#so instead of getting stuck finding clips for the laughter i just cut it oh well

[writingbeary]

Kingdom - Reborn (pt.2)

Minyoung’s Outfit

Note:

Texts placed inside brackets are Kingdom’s show subtitles

Italicized texts are in English

Texts that are block quoted are interview cuts

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During the shoot before Round 2, the time when they got the experts’ evaluation for Round 1, ATEEZ revealed the reason behind why the chose iKON as the group they wanted to exchange songs with.

"Everyone wanted to do iKON sunbaenims' songs. San did his monthly evaluation with Rhythm Ta and Minyoung's video for her highschool admission was Bling Bling. It's like we're fated to do this." Hongjoong explained moving his hands to point towards the two metioned people.

Seonghwa nodded adding in his own experience "I really like iKON sunbaenim that I even performed it at my school event."

"That's true! There's even videos of it." Hongjoong chuckled while Seonghwa shifted uncomfortably knowing the editors would probably add in the said video

"Minyoung too. She was formerly a YG trainee, so she must have had to dance to at least one song?" Jongho turned to the girl who was uncharacteristically quiet

"Me? I was a trainee there when they competed in Mix and Match. Ah but we don’t really practice Korean songs a lot there. Although, it’s like a mentality of trainees? You want to learn all the seniors’ songs in the company in case you have to perform it suddenly." Minyoung looked as if she was hiding herself cringing at her trainee days, feeling a bit embarrassed.

"So what? You literally are a member of their fanclub! I’m sure you know their songs by heart." Wooyoung pointed out making the rest of the members laugh. This information prompted the production staff behind the camera to ask if she really was a member of the iKON’s fanclub.

"I am, I also attended their concert in Sydney before. I also have membership for SF9 sunbaenim and BTOB sunbaenim. Oh but I like everyone!" Minyoung quickly added afraid she'll get misunderstood

[Photo evidences that Minyoung loves K-pop!] Photos of Minyoung’s merchandise and being in concerts or fan meetings were shown after edit.

"Ah right! But your class performed with Killing Me during the festival." Yunho exclaimed, clapping as he remembered the performance

"Oppa! Don't!" Minyoung tried to shush him but she knew it was too late. She turned to the staff worried "You're probably going to dig up videos right?"

[Of course! Here it is!]

As if teasing the girl, the editors played a clip of said performance. At this point, Minyoung knows there's no escaping what she calls her dark past.

(Group Interview)

The staff asked the group if they have tried contacting someone other groups with Hongjoong answering that he will try to do that after the show ends.

“When we started filming for Kingdom, I decided to be close with Kim Jinhwan-sunbaenim.” Wooyoung confessed making the other members laugh as he did declare that he will do whatever it takes to become close with him.

“Why do you sound so excited?” San asked laughing

“I feel like I don’t want people to know that I know you when you act like this oppa.” Minyoung mumbled evoking laughter from everyone including Wooyoung.

“What do you mean by that? You’re also like this with the other seniors!” Wooyoung grinned teasing the girl, Minyoung stuck out her tongue playfully at him.

“Even before filming Kingdom, the only groups that I don’t have anyone I personally know is iKON-sunbaenim and BTOB-sunbaenim. I’ll work hard to change that and be a successful fan.” Minyoung answered smiling shyly

“You do know Chanwoo-sunbaenim though? Through Chani-sunbaenim right?” Yunho poked the girl chuckling

“Ah right. We haven’t really talked but when it’s possible, he said he’ll schedule for our group to have a meal together with iKON-sunbaenim.” Minyoung nodded making the members smile in excitement

“Are you thinking of making it a win-win scenario with iKON?” the staff asked and with no hesitation the whole of ATEEZ answered yes.

“I think it’ll be great if we could place 1st and 2nd with iKON-sunbaenim. That’s my wish.” Hongjoong answered as the rest of the members nodded.

“People complimented our narrative in round one and that’s because they could tell that we were pirates. When performing Rhythm Ta, we need an arrangement and choreography from which people could tell exactly what we’re going for.” Hongjoong explained his ideas to the group as they conceptualize the stage for the round.

“Let’s our heads together and come up with it.” Wooyoung stated as he looked towards the other members.

“Let’s really put our heads together” Jongho joked as Hongjoong asked them to say their cheer. “Say, 9 makes 1 king.” 

“9 makes 1 king! Fighting!”

(Preparation for the Stage)

“In the original song, ‘What’s up? Hurry up and nod your head.’ this is the part that I liked. It’s catchy.” Hongjoong said to the camera as he worked on the song. “I left that part in verse 1 and verse 2 but I changed the second part a bit to incorporate a Latin vibe.”

“Another thing we agreed upon is to have another movie reference for this performance. We borrowed ideas from ‘Pirates of the Carribean’ for our Round 1 performance and for this stage, we will borrow the theme from the drama called ‘Money Heist’.”

“So we’re becoming 8 pirates. It’ll be a prequel to <Wonderland>.”

(Phone call with Minyoung)

Hongjoong called Minyoung while he was arranging Rhythm Ta into their own color and was on the phone with her as the cameras were recording. Hongjoong: Minyoung-ah, so I was thinking.. Minyoung: Oh no. What is it? *nervous tone* More high notes? Oppa stop thinking. That’s bad for my heart. *laughs* Hongjoong: Instead of high notes, I'd like you to rap.

Hongjoong laughed hearing Minyoung groan over the line and there was a pause before Minyoung spoke again.

Minyoung: Oppa. Don’t do this to me. Save me. Please. I'll do the high notes or stunts Hongjoong: We have to showcase everything Minyoung-ah. You're a rapper. You already showed Atiny that you can do it. Minyoung: I knew it. Giving in to Atiny’s request for that cover was bad *sighs before letting out a laugh in resignation* Understood. I'll do it. I have to do it. I did say I'll follow your decisions all throughout and I don’t go back on my words. Hongjoong: Also, you know that we’ll be adding narration right? Minyoung: Ah no. I’ll go along with your rap request but I won’t do the narration. Hongjoong: Why? It’s in English and you’re our native English speaker. Minyoung: It’s because I’ll most likely laugh if I do it besides don’t you think having the leader do it would paint a better picture? Like you’re leading ATEEZ into a revolution. Hongjoong: *convinced* Oh you have a point there. Alright. Thanks bun. Come record your parts tomorrow and bring Seonghwa with you. Minyoung: Mhm. I'll come with Seonghwa-oppa. Fighting Joong-oppa! I’m hanging up. Bye bye~

“Let’s do it from the start.” The choregrapher called out as he counted out loud while the members dance. San laughing after they finished a part.

[Main dancer losing his mind]

Nodding, the choreographer clapped and called out “Okay let’s try the second part”

"Let me catch my breath first." San asked the choreographer

“We’re not going to jump. We’re not using our steps.” as they run through their dance routine only to find out the choreographer is doing the footwork while all the members laughed

"It's what we've been doing anyway. It's just the base footwork." the choreographer commented laughing when he saw the members' faces "Just roll your feet"

"I feel like I'm getting conned." Wooyoung laughed as he too was trying to catch a breath

Minyoung laughed as if she is losing her mind. "Why is this so difficult? This rolling is insane." before singing the song Rollin�� as she attempted the move again.

[Another one who is losing her mind.]

“I feel like we’ll all be sore after this stage.” Wooyoung remarked as the others laughed knowing that it’s going to happen.

“Where are we?” San asked as they walked into an establishment

“We’re here to practice for Kingdom.” Hongjoong answered as he explained what they need to do. They all agreed that it is important to try the action with one’s own body and Wooyoung pointed them to a place where they could practice those movements. The group went to a BB gun shooting place and played around.

“Ah. But won’t Minyoung have an advantage?” San grinned ready to tease the girl

“Why? What about me?” Minyoung asked tilting her head a bit.

“You’re small. You can hide behind almost everything here.” San got ready to block the girl’s slap laughing

“That would also mean Yunho-oppa is a great target though. Besides I can’t win if I stay cooped up in one place.” Minyoung shook her head slapping San’s arm “But rest assured. I’ll make sure to hunt for you oppa.”

“Everyone, aim for Yeosang.” Hongjoong reminded everyone of their goal today

“Okay.” “So it’s a 7 v 1 then.”

[It looks like they came here to have fun]

“But why are we aiming at Yeosang-oppa?” Minyoung asked as they shoot Yeosang who tried expressing how being shot by bullets felt like.

“<Rhythm Ta> is the title of the song right? We need to get the rhythm and enjoy the stage to the fullest. I think people will like it if we could perform while laughing and having fun like we did today” Hongjoong explained to everyone after the day of playing

The group went for their rehearsals with the props for a final time, everyone taking their places. San and Minyoung were together as they have to lead the last group dance together.

"What are you doing?" Minyoung could be heard asking San in the background as he was talking to the camera, then feeling embarrassed with his actions.

As Minyoung was practicing the dance for her solo part, she limped slightly when trying to change positions, the staff asked her if she's doing okay. "I am! I don't think it'll affect my performance during the show, I just have my knee wrapped as extra protection."

"She hurt herself during one of our rehearsals. It's nothing serious but to be safe, she was told not to strain too much." San explained for Minyoung who returned back to practicing her routine

[The choreography as expected is intense for all the members but she continues to practice despite the injury]

Noticing the camera focusing on her, she shared what was on her mind "More than this, I'm more nervous rapping in front of the seniors live. I’m worried that people wouldn’t take to well to me rapping and I'm especially scared that iKON sunbaenim might not like it. But I have to do it, I just need to do my part well since everyone else would surely kill theirs."

[The pressure must be heavy for the 22-year old girl to face but she continues on with a smile]

As the staff asked if they could win, San confidently answered “Win? If we do what we have to do properly, if we show what we got, I think it’s possible.”

“There was some pressure but I think we could prepare it with energy solely because we ranked high.” Jongho confessed during the group interviews.

“Right. I feel like we could prepare for the stage and just purely enjoy the process because the pressure isn’t as bad as before.” Minyoung said chiming in

“We were preparing for the next round energetically because we want to achieve another good result this round.” Jongho concluded

“I’m most curious about iKON-sunbaenim’s reactions” Hongjoong piped in making Yunho nod adding in “If we’re acknowledged by them, we already succeded a bit.”

“As we won first place in the previous round, we should show a performance fit for that title. That’s what we kept on thinking.” Hongjoong smiled as the other members nodded in agreement.

“A performance fit for the winners?” San asked

“We should meet their expectations.” Hongjoong nodded

“Shouldn’t we go above their expectations?” Minyoung asked making the whole group laugh as they end the interview.

"There were a lot of new things we tried for this performance. San doing b-boying and Minyoung would have more active parts in the choreography. You also have to look forward to her rap too." Hongjoong answered confidently smiling during the interview for Round 2.

When the music played ATEEZ’s version of Rhythm Ta, Minyoung felt adrenaline pump through her body as she felt herself suddenly no longer nervous, just excited. 

Everyone was surprised to hear her voice whispering their opening and even more when she rapped the pre-verse after Seonghwa's lines.

BTOB Eunkwang: She also raps? She’s insane! Didn’t she do the high note last round? BTOB Minhyuk: Right. Isn’t she a vocal?

SF9 Chani: She’s going all out, huh. *chuckle* 

Minyoung took center position for the first chorus as she sang “igeon gunyang noraeniggan rhythm ta” the cameras closing in, focused on her facial expressions before panning out to their group dance.

Stray Kids Han: *excited shout* Minyoung-ah! iKON Yunhyeong: She’s an all-rounder. SF9 Dawon: What’s scary is her facial expressions. How is she this good? It’s completely different from her usual aura SF9 Inseong: She’s an actress. But I agree, her facial expressions are fascinating. All of them do but she’s standing out in this performance.

As Hongjoong finished the Money Heist speech, Minyoung and Jongho sang together for the bridge with Minyoung supporting his high note before the dance booster where San lead the dance. For the ending, Minyoung once again took center position before doing a high kick in time for the last beat and smirking at the camera as the music fades to the intro of their Round 1 performance.

THE BOYZ Hyunjae: Minyoung is crazy. Pick one thing to be good at! Goodness.

SF9 Chani: *claps, standing up* SF9 Inseong: Minyoung-ie looked impressive during that last bit

Stray Kids Han: That's my friend right there! *laughs* Stray Kids Changbin: *laughs* You sound like you’re a proud parents 

iKON DK: They killed the stage. Like how we made our own from their song, they also created their own Rhythm Ta.

BTOB Eunkwang: They really made it their song. It was totally ATEEZ’ song.

 ATEEZ bowed and thanked the backup dancers and the staff after their performance, all smiling as they all thought they did perfectly.

Minyoung now feeling the high from their performance settle down a bit, finally felt the pain in her knee. Yunho noticing that’s she is having a hard time walking, crouched down in front of her. "Let's go and no, it's either you get on my back or I carry you over my shoulder Young-ah." knowing she'd refuse.

Sighing, she went on his back getting carried to the backstage to get their microphones taken out and treat Minyoung.

"Did you hurt it again?" San asked approaching the two with Jongho beside him, still trying to catch his breath.

"Same old. I just feel a numb pain but nothing too serious." Minyoung smiled trying to reassure the members that managed to gather around her and their manager who gave her a cold pack for her knee.

"If it's too much, sit out the rest of the filming-" Hongjoong started to say but the girl quickly rejected the idea

"No! I want to watch the rest of the stages too." Minyoung pouted trying to win over their leader with aegyo

Laughing, Wooyoung patted Minyoung's back lightly. "Okay case closed. Minyoung is staying for the performances. Hongjoong-hyung can never resist Minyoung when she does that."

"Fine. But you have to get that checked after the shoot and you have to tell us immediately if it gets too painful." Hongjoong sighed knowing how stubborn Minyoung could get when she wants something.

(BTOB’s stage)

“Okay. Another stage that I’m looking forward to. When Stray Kids picked BTOB-sunbaenim, I was already thinking of what songs could match well with them.” Minyoung stated as she made herself comfortable in her seat, playing with the wheeled chair a bit.

“Since <God’s Menu> was already performed last round, they probably won’t pick that.” Seonghwa laughed as he watched as the girl roll around her chair using her good leg

“What if it was <Hellevator> or <Double Knot>? That would be really cool!” Minyoung exclaimed clapping her hands “They could go for a complete 180 of the song. Imagine that.”

Hongjoong laughed at her excitement as Wooyoung grinned “Yeosang-ah, you and Jongho should probably get your ears ready if she squeals.”

“A bit too late for that warning.” Jongho laughed as Minyoung lightly punched his arm in protest

As BTOB started their stage, the camera was focused on the floor label ‘Stage 1’. Minyoung pointed at the screen. “It looks like a backstage..Omo! Are they going to perform <Back Door>?”

“Oh! <Back Door> <Back Door> <Back Door> <Back Door>” Yunho exclaimed excitedly with Wooyoung when Eunkwang pretended to warm up his vocals for their performance

“This is totally rock. The style actually suits Changsub-sunbaenim a bit.” Minyoung noted as Changsub opened the song with his verse “How does he go high that easily?”

Yeosang looked at the girl chuckling “You also go up that high. You and Jongho do that easily.” to which Minyoung deadpanned “Maybe Jongho but for me, I die whenever there’s a high note in my part.” at this answer all members of ATEEZ shook their heads, disagreeing with her but decided not to say anything and just focus on the performance.

“Wow! Crazy!” Wooyoung had his mouth open during the high note while Seonghwa could be visibly scene having the time of his life at the side

“Omo!” Minyoung let out a light squeal when Minhyuk came into the screen in his robe. Seonghwa suddenly switching from a fanboy mode to a protective mode and trying to block Minyoung’s view.

“What’s with everyone showing off their physique? We cannot win that!” Wooyoung laughed

“Peniel-sunbaenim’s rap is a bit…provocative?” Minyoung mumbled as she nod along to the music. “I guess they changed the theme quite a bit.”

“Oh! They’re finally going up the stage.” Jongho pointed out as the group walked out to what looks like a concert stage

“I want to go there too! I’ll be a backup dancer for them and just vibe up the stage.” Minyoung pointed at the screen copying the movements of the backup dancers

“Omo. Here it goes. Here it goes. BTOB-sunbaenim’s harmonies” Minyoung clapped excitedly as both Changsub and Eunkwang harmonize.

The rest of the stage was spent by the whole of ATEEZ just being the fans that they are, raising their hands up and down just like the dancers on stage. Most of them had their mouths wide-open as they’re amazed by the whole performance brought by BTOB until Minhyuk ripped his shirt off prompting Minyoung’s surprised gasp and Seonghwa’s frantic hand going to cover Minyoung’s eyes.

Wooyoung laughed at the two of them. “They’re at it again.” Seonghwa trying to cover Minyoung’s view while Minyoung trying to remove Seonghwa’s hand while laughing.

(Stray Kids’ stage)

“<I’ll be your Man>? This is song is so high though! I wonder how they changed it up. Also, Stray Kids’ openings for both of these rounds sounds so..” Minyoung paused trying to think of the word “you know the feeling you get during horror movies when they suddenly turn down the music?”

“Eerie? Mysterious? Creepy?” Hongjoong listed words that the girl could be thinking of.

“Eerie. That one. It feels so eerie but like you’re anticipating something but the general tone is just so solemn or something.” Minyoung commented as she watched Seungmin’s part in the opening.

“Han Jisung aye~” Minyoung smiled as Jisung did vocal parts right after Seungmin.

“So is this the part of Kingdom where the rapper sings and vocals rap?” Hongjoong chuckled glancing at Minyoung “You rapped today when you’re usually vocals then Han sings when he usually raps.”

“Minhyuk-sunbaenim did it first on this show though and Jisung has been doing vocals parts in their songs too.” Minyoung shook her head as she pointed it out to her leader

“You should give her more parts is what I’m hearing right now.” Jongho laughed, shaking his head before returning back his focus on the performance.

“it’s a difficult song. This one.” Yunho pointed out looking forward to the stage

When the screen changed, Minyoung got startled and jumped a bit in her seat as Changbin’s rap section started. “Changbin-sunbaenim’s parts always sounds so heavy. Oh but I meant it in a good way.”

Minyoung gasped with her eyes wide when Changbin fell from the platform. “Omo!” Wooyoung who was sat at the end grinned, proud of his friend. “My friend.” making Yunho laugh at him as Hongjoong praises Changbin for his rap.

“The kid disappeared!” Minyoung exclaimed making Yeosang chuckle at her. “Are they like dead? Is that why the dancers are wearing white? What is happening?”

“He’s gone!” “Where did he go?” both Wooyoung and Yunho gasped and spoke at the same time

As soon as Han took center and sang the chorus, Minyoung clapped excitedly in her seat. “Go get it! Let’s go!” then during Felix’s parts Minyoung couldn’t help but point at the screen shouting his name “Felix! Yes, go make use of your deep voice and dig deep underground.” as all of ATEEZ let out a sound in awe.

“Wait why are there axes and spears? Omo! They’re dragging him..I did say to dig deep but..” Minyoung gasped in realization “Omo! Is he like a devil?”

Noticing the backup dancers, Minyoung mumbled under her breath “So are all backup dancers in JYP this fit? It’s like they all have toned bodies.” Yeosang who was seating next to her let out a laugh, getting the attention of the rest of the members as he waved them off indicating he’ll tell them later.

“Is that blood? Are they going to summon Felix?!” Minyoung incredibly invested at the performance would have scooted closer to the screen if not for Jongho who was holding her chair back. “What is this? Did they sacrifice the kid? Or are they trying to save the kid?”

If Minyoung was excited during the first part of the performance, imagine that being doubled when both Seungmin and Han did the high notes. She was practically beaming, proud of her friends her attention on them before noticing the heavy rapping of Changbin in the background when Wooyoung pointed it out.

“I got goosebumps” Seonghwa confessed as Wooyoung exclaimed “Changbin, he’s super cool!”

“Our I.N-ie!” Minyoung raised her hands up high when Jeongin did the last bit of the chorus. “Oh! I’ve got goosebumps.” Jongho noted as the performance ended.

“So did they like sacrifice their blood to summon Felix and then save the baby?” Minyoung asked still a bit lost

“I think so. The statue seems to represent the kid in the beginning then they gave it a heart to save him.” Hongjoong nodded clapping for the last performance of the day.

“So did they save the kid? Or was the kid a ghost? I need answers!” Minyoung pouted as Yeosang chuckled and patted her back. “I believe it’ll be up to the interpretation of the audience.”

Outtake:

After everyone has performed, Minyoung laughed to herself gaining the attention of the rest of the members. “What’s funny?” Hongjoong asked her

"Should I just take it off too? Everyone ripped their shirts off and stuff." Minyoung asked patting her jacket, shocking the other members making them jump from their seat and yell out "No!" in unison. Minyoung laughed surprised at how loud they got.

"Why would you want to do that?" Seonghwa asked frowning a bit, trying to think up a reason to discourage whatever idea is on her mind.

"I don't want to hear that from you and San-oppa. You exhibitionists." Minyoung countered jokingly making Jongho and Wooyoung laugh. "It's not like I'll actually go topless that’ll be real bad. Maybe wear something sexy. I've already tried it during <HALA HALA> and <THANXX>...kind of? anyway, so it's not like it's anything new."

"After all this time? Why?" Yeosang asked curiously as there were lots of time when fan would question her stage outfits. She would always get something that doesn’t show that much skin, take her stage outfit for today. She has layers of clothing which worked in favor for the group since they won’t need to be on the look-out too much for ill-intentioned people. After that incident during their <Wave> promotions, everyone took turns on sticking by Minyoung’s side to avoid another incident.

"I mean everyone's been ripping their shirts off or showing of their physique and by everyone I mean including the backup dancers. They look good by the way.” Minyoung reasoned, taking her phone out already looking at potential outfits.

Jongho laughed as he patted Minyoung's back "Your image. Try to protect your image, you fangirl." making Minyoung laugh shrugging

"A bit too late for that Jongho. I'm pretty sure Atiny already knows that I have my fangirl moments. Besides, when could I ever enjoy myself like this other than off stage? I’ve had my fun with hair colors so maybe I could have fun with outfits as well."

"Why not her do what she wants? Better to agree and decide with her rather than her surprising us about it." Yeosang shrugged, chuckling when Minyoung raised her thumbs up exclaiming "You know me too well oppa"

"If you're comfortable with it...it’s not like we can completely stop you from doing what you want " Hongjoong sighed in resignation, patting Minyoung's head. He would have ruffled her hair if not for the thousand pins on your hair.

"Young lady, I am going to make sure it isn't scandalous. You better let me see the outfit first." Seonghwa wagged a finger trying to look threatening but only making Minyoung laugh and agree. "Like I said, you and San-oppa are the last ones I'll want to hear those words from. Well especially San-oppa. His clothes keep getting lesser and lesser." cracking up everyone

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ATEEZ Minyoung Masterlist

Disclaimer: This is just a work of fiction. Any portrayal of real people is a combination based on what we could see on cameras and imagination of the author. This is purely fan fiction written for entertainment. Thank you for understanding.

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Writing Beary Corner

That’s it for the Reborn Round! I’m not sure if it showed but I had a lot of fun writing this round as everyone did a great job and this was the stage I looked forward to the most. 

I’m a bit busy this week so I cannot finish my drafted posts but I’ll post as soon as they’re ready. ♡♡♡

Thank you for reading!

-Mimi

20

[kpop-zone]

Blackpink reaction to their s/o being insecure because of shippers

Jisoo

Jisoo had noticed that something was bothering you for quite some time already. You didn’t speak up about your worries though and she didn’t want to pressure you into talking. Therefore, she kept quiet and simply opted to observe you in case your state would worsen. But overall, you seemed to be fine, so weeks passed without Jisoo ever figuring out what was wrong, and it took a stupid TV commercial to open her eyes.

The two of you were watching some TV when the teaser for the upcoming KBS Music Festival came on which caused Jisoo to chuckle.

“Great, now the shippers will go crazy again.”

She laughed amused, because the clip was cut very unfavorable and showed Jinyoung and her in the same scene.

Since they had been the special MCs for an award show together, countless dating rumors circulated, and a surprisingly high number of fans actually wanted to see them together. For Jisoo, this situation was really funny. She liked Jinyoung, he was a decent guy, but she couldn’t ever picture herself with him. Mostly, of course, because in her head, you were a fixed part of her future, but also because she didn’t think that Jinyoung and her were a good match. Therefore, she sometimes read all the weird conspiracy theories by the fans when she wanted to have a good laugh.

Apparently, however, you weren’t able to laugh about this situation. When Jisoo glanced at you, she could see that you were gulping thickly as if you were choking down some tears. Her demeanor immediately changed, and she reached out to grab your hand.

“What’s wrong, Y/N?”

She asked concerned, but you only shook your head in response.

It was clear to Jisoo though that something was bothering you. Intently, she thought about what could have caused your sudden mood change until the penny dropped at last.

“Jagiya, you’re not worried about Jinyoung and me, right?”

You stayed quiet for a while, confirming Jisoo’s assumption which made her feel guilty for not realizing it sooner.

“I’m not worried that you’ll cheat on me. But the rumors always remind me how much better than me you could do and that your fans would probably tear me apart if they knew that you are dating someone like me.”

Your words knocked the air out of Jisoo’s lungs, and she almost gasped in shock.

“What are you talking about? Please don’t say something like that ever again. You are the only one I want to be with and the only one that can make me happy.”

She stated clearly, wondering whether she hadn’t made her love for you obvious enough in the past.

“If you want to, I can talk with the management and ask whether they can make an official statement, denying the rumors.”

Jisoo wouldn’t let any possibility slide to make you realize that the rumors were absolutely ridiculous and that she didn’t want anyone else beside her but you. If those shippers were making you sad, she had to find a way to handle them.

Jennie

“What’s wrong, baby?”

Your question ripped Jennie from her train of thought, and she cursed herself inwardly for not being able to hide her emotions better.

“Nothing, I’m fine.”

She smiled, hoping that you would believe her. It would be selfish of her to complain about a thing that she knew was making you insecure. Exes were a delicate topic in every relationship, but those conversations were even harder when there were thousands of people out there that still wanted to see you together with your ex.

“I can see that you’re lying, Jennie.”

You softened your voice and laid one hand on her thigh in order to catch her attention.

In defeat, Jennie sighed, but still avoided your gaze. She couldn’t make a scene now, but if she saw the concern in your eyes, she knew that she would probably break down.

“It’s nothing important; just the same old. Rumors have spread again about...Kai and me. Just because we’ve been spotted in the same part of the city on the same night.”

Only saying those words were making Jennie feel nauseous. They brought back the memories about all the hate that she had received during her dating scandal and now every ship with another idol that she was being associated with made her anxious.

“Oh.”

You answered simply, causing Jennie to feel guilty for bringing it up.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I swear, I would have never gone to that restaurant if I had known that he was in the area too.”

She immediately apologized, feeling tears starting to pool in her eyes.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Jennie. None of that was your fault.”

You tried to flash her an encouraging smile, but Jennie could still see the insecurity in your eyes.

“I’m so sorry that you have to go through all of that because of me. If I could make it all stop, I would.”

She grabbed your hand and you squeezed hers tightly.

“It’s ok. I guess we both have to learn how to live with all those rumors.”

You sighed while smiling sadly.

Jennie wished that there was a way to stop people from stirring up both of your insecurities over and over again, but there was none. The only thing you could do was to try giving each other strength. Therefore, Jennie pulled you into a hug while apologizing once more for causing all that trouble.

Chaeyoung

New dream couple? 10 reasons why BTS’ Jungkook and Blackpink’s Rosé are a perfect match

When Chaeyoung read the headline of the newest article on one of South Korea’s most popular news pages, she rolled her eyes. For some reason, there seemed to be an army of shippers out there that wanted to see her and Jungkook together and were analyzing every little “interaction” of theirs to the smallest detail. In the beginning, she had ignored them, because there were a million rumors about her going around and she couldn’t pay attention to all of them. But when the voices of the people claiming that they were dating got louder and louder, she began to be bothered. Not because of herself, but because of you.

It was obvious that you were starting to feel insecure, because of the countless fans and reporters that were claiming that Jungkook and her were the perfect match. This article would only rub salt into your wound once more, causing Chaeyoung to feel endlessly guilty. Therefore, she immediately rushed home after work with your favorite takeout and some flowers in her arms.

“Hey baby.”

She greeted you happily right when she entered the apartment before snuggling up to you, causing you to chuckle.

“Hi to you too. What have I done to deserve all this love?”

You joked, but Chaeyoung just played it off.

“I love you and only you. That’s all.”

She smiled, but in that moment, you seemed to have realized what all of this was about.

“So this is about the article...”

Your expression changed immediately, and instead of your cute smile, a heavy frown was decorating your face now.

“I’m so sorry about that, Y/N. I don’t know where that is coming from again. I swear, I haven’t done anything. You are the only one for me. I would never do anything to fire up those ridiculous rumors. Please don’t worry about them.”

Chaeyoung started rambling, but she simply needed to make sure that you weren’t feeling upset. She knew where those insecurities of yours were coming from and they were absolutely valid, but she still wanted to free you of them; not only now, but sustainably.

Therefore, Chaeyoung started to be even more careful in the future. Not that she would have done anything to encourage the rumors in the past, but now she was paying even more attention to everything she was saying or doing. At award shows, for example, she always made sure to stand as far away from BTS as possible, so that there was not a single picture released that showed Jungkook and her in the same frame. In return, however, that lead to a number of opposing headlines.

All about the breakup of Jungkook and Rosé

Why do BTS and Blackpink hate each other?

Chaeyoung couldn’t care less about those articles though. As long as they helped to ease your insecurities, she would bare the hate.

Lalisa

“Which one sounds better, babe? LaBam or BamLisa?”

Lisa laughed while reading the newest articles about another addition to her countless ships; with her best friend BamBam. It was really amusing to her to watch all those fans colleting evidence to prove her relationship with the other Thai idol. Although she had to admit that if she wouldn’t know better, she might have believed those rumors too. Their stories sounded pretty conclusive sometimes.

“I didn’t even notice that I was looking at him!”

Lisa gasped before giggling when she looked at another Twitter post that made it look like she was looking at her friend in awe.

Her amusement soon died down, however, when Lisa realized that she wasn’t hearing any laughter from you. Confused, she averted her gaze from her phone to pay attention to you. You were staring ahead while the glistening in your eyes almost made it seem like you were about to cry.

“Y/N?”

Lisa called out your name in order to shake you from your trance.

“You would make a cute couple, wouldn’t you?”

You smiled, but the sadness in your eyes was giving away that you weren’t joking.

“What?”

Lisa asked perplexed, being caught off guard by your insecurities. She had never known that you were thinking about such things. The two of you were so happy together and Lisa had never even thought about dating BamBam.

“Oh, it’s nothing. Look, Leo is climbing up the curtain!”

Quickly, you tried to play off your statement by drawing attention to the cats, but while Lisa had to rush off to save her curtains, your question was still stuck in her brain.

This didn’t come from nowhere; you must have been seriously insecure all this time. A massive wave of guilt immediately washed over Lisa and she knew that she had to make it up to you. Therefore, she got off work early the next day in order to spoil you and treat you to a nice, homecooked dinner later that night. It took her several hours and some tries to get it right, but in the end, she managed to make some dishes that were actually enjoyable, and everything was ready for you when you came home.

“What is this??”

You gasped astonished and Lisa immediately wrapped her arms around your waist to pull you into the apartment.

“A token of my love and a thank you for always being by my side. I wouldn’t want to conquer this crazy world with anyone else.”

Lisa smiled, causing you to blush cutely.

It seemed like she had to surprise you more often from now on.

[valwrite]

empty lighter; daveed diggs

masterlist

summary: it’s fascinating, the things people leave behind in our lives. memories, possessions, scars, emotions. over the course of his life, daveed had collected so much from people who he’d left behind. but all he has left of her is a lighter and a broken heart.

warnings: angst, fluff, suggestive content, way too many cigarettes.

fic style: oneshot.

word count: 11.4k

author’s note: ah! it’s finally here! my first ever oneshot on this blog. hopefully, you guys enjoy reading it. is it the best writing in the world? no. but it doesn’t matter, i’m so proud of myself for actually getting back into writing, to the point where i was able to start and finish an 11k word fic. i’ve edited this over 10 times, so if there’s still an error in it, i’m going to cry. feedback, likes and reblogs are 100% appreciated!

December, 2015

Sweat was in the air and, with it, a scent one would hardly call enjoyable. With his behind comfortably sat in a cushioned bar stool, the man done his best to ignore the scenery of the busy club: the ever moving mass of bodies on the dance floor; the headache inducing remix of California Girls, which the evening's DJ was playing for what felt like the millionth time that night; the sight of his best friend hitting on some poor unsuspecting girl just trying to order drinks for herself and her friends. Instead, he focused on the drops of condensation and the pattern they left behind as they dripped down the side of his glass.

The speakers began to play yet another remix. Daveed rolled his eyes and welcomed another sip of his drink, this time not returning the glass to the counter top until the caramel liquor was all gone. The burning feeling was familiar and anchored him down in reality, a bitter yet accepted reminder that, once again, he found himself in the same situation he'd been in for over a year: alone, while being surrounded by sweating bodies. Sat at a bar, his friend off chasing some nameless girl and nothing but his loneliness, which only grew with each breath he drew, to keep him company.

His friend, Rafael, made eye contact with him and beckoned him over. So he stood but made no attempt to approach and discover whatever plan Rafa had in store for him. He knew the blonde haired man just a little too well at that point. He knew that the man was desperate to get his friend back to the state he'd been in four months prior, where every night was a thrill and an opportunity to get tangled up in some sheets with a pretty stranger and some pain numbing lust. In Rafa's weak defense, he had no idea what had switched in his friend to revert him back into a self pitying mess. He hadn't bore witness to the scene Daveed had stumbled upon all those months ago, a scene which sent him rapidly spiraling back to the rut he'd been stuck in the first two months after the break up.

Daveed shook his head, his wilder than usual curls bouncing from side to side as he focused on getting his mind off of the break up, off of the ring store, off of her. He couldn't afford another night of wasted tears. He headed in the opposite direction of Rafa and found himself breathing fresh air for the first time in hours as he stepped out on to the busy New York street. A car honked in the near distance and the street lights just about matched the neon lights which had lit up the club but Daveed felt as though a weight had been lifted off of his chest. Clubs had always been a part of his social and professional life yet recent events had left him feeling claustrophobic inside them. Maybe it was the fact that he didn't like that this was his social life again. Nights spent in clubs, mornings spent with uncaring strangers, afternoons spent in regret and nausea. Where had the nights of home cooked meals gone? The mornings he'd spent shielding his beloved from the harsh light of the rising sun? The afternoons where it didn't matter what wasted the time away, all that mattered was the hand clasped tightly in his and the woman it belonged to? He wanted them back.

Daveed wanted her back.

He'd been so consumed in his own thoughts that, when he finally focused in on his surroundings again, he was only a block away from his apartment and the club was long behind him. He figured he could text Rafa once he got inside, he'd understand why Daveed walked out. He probably already knew. A shy voice calling out his name caught his immediate attention and Daveed paused mid step. The voice seemed familiar, comforting, adoring. His breath caught in his throat and he swore he was dreaming. It took a moment or two for him to turn around and face his pursuer.

Disappointment burst forth inside him but he had to conceal the drop in his smile, especially when he noticed the young girl who was smiling at him with a gleam of excitement in her eyes and a familiar logo printed on her black t-shirt. He hadn't been dreaming, just delusional.

The fan was kind enough. She'd shyly asked him for a picture before gushing over how excited she'd been at one of last week's shows at the theater. Her brief mentioning of clipping. had meant more to Daveed than anything else she'd said, which he knew was a little selfish of him but he couldn't help it. Clipping., unlike the current Broadway show he was a part of, was truly something that was his to own. Sure, there were two other guys involved along with him, but the words he spat and the emotions and meanings laced within them were all Daveed's. To have it gain praise was a direct boost to his ego.

With a happier feeling installed in him, Daveed found himself unlocking the door to his apartment. He didn't bother untying his laces, his shoes simply being kicked off and left near the front door as he made his way into the familiar apartment. He ignored the state the place was in and dropped down on to the comfort of the leathered loveseat, finding some form of tranquility in the disorganization of his own belongings. It somehow made the place feel closer to home. Despite the fact he'd been staying there since pre-production of Hamilton, Daveed still felt disconnected. Not just to the apartment but the whole city. Perhaps, he felt too loyal to the Bay area to allow himself to get too comfortable with living on the east coast. More likely, it had to do with the fact she wasn't there with him, like she was supposed to be, like they'd both agreed.

Engraved in his mind was the memory of Y/N 's face, lit up with glee as she strolled in and out of the different rooms of the place, her voice rising in volume as she ranted and raved about all the ways they could set up the apartment- their apartment, a first of many homes together; god, just thinking of it brought a smile to his face and a dizzy feeling to his head-, and her list of all the ways they could spend any free time they could get: the little cafes they could visit, the monuments they could see, the streets they could walk. He could so vividly remember pulling her into his arms, his lips confidently claiming her own against them. He held her there for their own little infinity, one hand fisted in her hair, the other splayed out against her lower back as her own softly grabbed at his jumper and held him down to her, as if he'd ever dream of leaving her. Her soft laughter had echoed off the walls as she pulled away. He couldn't stand having his mouth off of her and settled with peppering kisses down her exposed neck whilst she jokingly accused him of just wanting her to shut up. He didn't even know how to begin to explain how far from the truth that was. That, in reality, he'd just felt such a desperate need to have her against him because he wasn't entirely sure if she was real or if the life and relationship they'd built together had been nothing but a cruel dream of his. She was too good, her love was too good and he, a man who's career was built off of his eloquence and mastering of word play, was at a complete loss for words when it came to loving her. Heavy breathing and discarded clothing was the way he'd chosen to express his love that evening, breaking in their new apartment. The very same apartment where their relationship would come to an abrupt end no more than two weeks later.

There was a pain growing in Daveed's chest, which he could only imagine was a side effect of his shattered heart attempting to continue beating. His phone buzzed in his pocket. He already knew it was Rafa before he even looked at the screen and answered the call.

“Hey man!” Rafa's cheery voice burst through the speaker and Daveed pulled the phone back from his ear, not having expected the volume of his friend’s voice or the questionable Cotton Eyed Joe remix in the background. “Where'd you go? I got a couple girls here that were looking forward to meeting you!”

“Yeah, I... I'm meeting Oak early tomorrow, got some magazine the cast is doing a shoot for.” In his own defense, Daveed wasn't lying. There was a photo shoot and he was meeting Oak in the morning but that wasn't the reason he'd left.

If Rafa knew his friend was evading the truth, he thankfully kept it to himself. “Ah, so the princess needs her beauty sleep? Your loss, man.”

“Yeah, yeah. Stop wasting your time on me and go enjoy yourself.”

“Have fun with your face masks and beauty creams! Oh, and Daveed?”

“Yeah?”

“Don't try shaving yourself tomorrow, leave it to the professionals. Don't want any nasty cuts on that precious face.”

Having hung up, Daveed carelessly flung his phone down on to the couch and watched it bounce once before laying flat on it's screen. The walls of the apartment were beginning to suffocate him, so much unfilled and unused space now suddenly feeling like it was caging him in, mocking him, taunting him with every echo of his own breathing that bounced off the walls. There was an itching in his lungs and his fingers had began to fiddle with themselves.

Daveed wasn't a particularly anxious person. Yet, anxiety was swelling in his throat and he ashamedly knew why. With his head hung low, Daveed blindly reached for the square packet and the cylinder lighter and headed straight for the balcony door. Opening it, he allowed the outside world to infiltrate his senses once more and it stole away some of his loneliness. The noise and lights and traffic were all a sign of life beyond his own, evidence that he wasn't truly alone in the world. Any loneliness he faced was product of his own creation, an isolation he'd comfortably settled with.

He hadn't put his whole life on pause. No, Daveed wasn't that careless. He woke up every morning and walked out the front door, prepared to face the day with as earnest of a smile as possible. He'd laugh with friends, speak with fans, give his all in his performances. But the feeling of longing would never truly leave him. Rafa could see it, most of the Hamilton cast too. They all knew there was an unspoken part of Daveed that was in denial of her absence. They could see it in the way his eyes never lingered much on beautiful women; in the way he kept her picture in his dressing room; in the way he still carried his part of their matching keyrings. But, what else could they do other than be there for him? She'd walked out with his lifeline and had left nothing but a Daveed shaped shell, hollow and devoid of life, just waiting for the day she walked back into his arms. He was pathetic. Foolish. Selfdestructive.

And so painfully in love with Y/N, even though it no longer seemed fair to feel that way.

The metal handrail was cold to the touch as he let his hands run over it, his eyes gazing down at the active nightlife below. His hands robotically opened the packet and out of it he pulled a cigarette. The nicotine stick found itself resting between his plush lips. The lighter was sparked up, the cigarette set a light and an inhalation of sweet smoke was taken. He'd always felt smoking alone was one of the most solemn of experiences. A couple more drags were taken before he became fixated with the lighter in his hand. He lit it up just to watch the flame dance, not a care in the world for the wasted lighter fluid. It didn't take much longer for his treacherous mind to drift towards the empty lighter inside his sock drawer and, most importantly, the memories attached to it.

A younger Daveed, freshly off stage and with sweat drying into his skin, had pushed past the drunken messes and the grinding pairs to escape for a breath of fresh air and a cigarette. Standing up in front of a crowd was a thrill, truly, but Daveed was still shy at his core and the hyperawareness of his own performance brought on a stress only nicotine could soothe.

The exit had taken him out into a back alley. The bass of whatever song was playing indoors could still be felt but the street was thankfully pretty calm, no one else there but another smoker and a couple making out further down from the door. A few steps out into the alley and he stopped, bending his right leg at the knee to perch his foot back against the brick wall as his hands occupied themselves fishing out a cigarette.

“Shit.” A curse escaped him as the realization hit that he'd forgotten to bring a lighter with him. He pulled the cigarette from his mouth and huffed, a hand running through his curls. Maybe he wouldn't be getting that stress reliever that evening after all.

“Need a light?” Daveed nearly jumped at the unexpected voice, his foot slipping off of the wall and his back straightening. When his eyes landed on a girl, who was wrapped up in an oversized jacket and had her arm outstretched with a blue lighter dangling between her fingers, he was certain she hadn't been there when he'd stepped outside. Egotistically, he wondered if she'd perhaps followed him. Stupidly, he wished she had.

Daveed caught himself before he could stare at her for too long, reluctantly pulling his eyes away from her face down to the lighter she was still offering. With gratitude, he took it from her grasp and put it to good use. Seconds later, his lungs were filling with poison and his face with relief. Turning his attention back to her, he found the girl already staring at him. Unlike most, she didn't avert her gaze in shame of being caught. She only focused more intently on him, a ghost of a smile presenting itself on her features. “Thanks, uh, pretty lucky you came out here.”

“If you want to label me following you as luck, then sure.” The calmness of her voice, the way she shrugged so nonchalantly, the way her side was resting up against the wall and her eyes were shamelessly trailing over him were a hypnotic mixture strong enough for Daveed to nearly miss the words she'd spoke. Had he missheard or had she actually followed him? Freaked out would be the normal response. Flattery is what took it's place in Daveed, though. “That was quite a performance, very... lively.”

“Yeah,” A chuckle escaped him and his free hand shot up to rub the back of his neck. “that was one of our tamer crowds, believe it or not. Glad you enjoyed it.”

“I never said I enjoyed it.” The smile had slipped from her face, visually punctuating her words. Then, much to Daveed's relief, she broke out in a fit of giggles and the friendliness in her voice had returned. “I'm only messing! You were amazing but, honestly, the other two of your group are the unsung heroes. They really held it down.”

Daveed wasn't about to deny her statement, knowing fine well just how vital the two men were to him. If he were the ink, they were the paper he wrote on and the pen that encapsulated him. Her praise for them only made Daveed enjoy her company more.

From there, the two continued to partake in casual conversation: her asking about how long clipping. had been a thing, him asking her about her studies and the cold air of the night slowly urging the two to stand closer and closer and closer. There was laughter in the air and comfort in their bones, almost as if the two had been lifelong friends catching up and not two strangers meeting in a back alley. Daveed had long finished his cigarette and he knew his friends would be wondering where he'd disappeared to but he wasn't ready to walk away from the conversation, from her, and so out he pulled another, perching it between his lips. He hadn't had the chance to ask for her lighter, she'd beat him to it and sparked it up. He bent at the knee a little as he leaned down, both of them sharing eye contact whilst she held the flame to it. This time around, Daveed offered the cigarette packet out to her, hoping to repay her in some way.

“I don't smoke, but thanks.”

“You don't smoke, but you carry around a lighter?” His head tilted off to the side and a cheeky grin overtook his face. “You're kinda weird.”

“And you're a charmer, aren't you?” She rebutted, though no offence was really taken. “You're not the only smoker who forgets to bring a lighter. My boyfriend has a habit of doing it, so I carry one around for him.”

The window of hope inside of his mind was shattered by one simple word. Boyfriend. Of course she was taken. She was the kind of girl who you met in the morning and were in love with come the evening.

“Anyways,” Her voice interrupted his disappointment. “you distracted me from the reason I followed you out here!”

“Yeah? And what reason was that?”

“My friend thinks you're hot. Well, no, actually, I believe the exact words she used were "If he can rap that fast, I wonder what else he can do with his tongue. I don't usually climb trees but I could make an exception if the tree looks like him."” She'd used air quotes to signal just what her friend had said and, for the first time since the two had met, Daveed felt bashful. He hadn't expected her to say such a thing, even if it was just mimicking her friend.

“And you wouldn't happen to be this friend?” Daveed teased.

“I prefer my men on the shorter side, thank you very much." Her tongue darted out at him and he laughed. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had someone stick their tongue out as an insult. Maybe in third grade? "My friend wants your number, though. And also wanted me to subtly convince you to invite us to come sit at your table but I'm really too tired to be subtle so, please just invite us.”

They'd returned inside not too long after, together, and off she'd gone to grab her friend to drag her over to Daveed's table. And while her friend was beautiful and flirting with Daveed the whole night, he found himself staring over at the girl from the alley every chance he got. He'd watched her do shots with Jonathan, watched as she and Rafa competed in a thumb war, watched as she'd knocked back a shot as her forfeit for losing. At some point in the night, Daveed had asked for her name and, at another point, she'd told him it was Y/N. And when he finally stumbled back into his own bed that night, his eyes staring up at his ceiling as he flipped the blue lighter in his hand, he thought of her.

Wetness dropped onto his hand and tore Daveed away from the memory playing on repeat in his mind. A single tear sat atop his hand and, in the other, a finished cigarette. Stubbing it out, he dropped the bud into a nearby ashtray and centered himself. Tears stung at his eyes and his breath was shaky but he was determined to push through and talk himself out of a full on breakdown.

Hours later, when sleep was finally coming for him and the warmth of his duvets embraced him instead of her arms, his wandering hands reached deep inside his drawer and pulled out the blue lighter as his eyes slipped shut and his mind drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

A blaring song and a loud buzzing noise woke Daveed up in a startle. He sat up, eyes still half shut and the duvet slipping down his naked chest. The noise persisted and he realized it was his own ringtone, playing from the pocket of his discarded jeans. He cursed under his breath when he stepped out of the bed, his foot landing on something uncomfortable before eventually meeting the soft carpet and giving him the leverage to reach the bottom of his trousers, dragging them over to find his phone screen lit up with Oak's name painted across the screen.

“What do you want?” Daveed was never a morning person and had no shame in this, especially when his sleep was interrupted.

“Good morning Oak! How are you? Oh I'm fine Daveed, how are you?” The overly chipper voice of Okieriete birthed a groan out of Daveed as he dropped back onto the bed behind him.

“It's too early for this, dude.”

“It's ten minutes away from being noon!”

“I rest my case.”

“C'mon man, we were supposed to be catching a ride together to head to the shoot. Now our car is ten minutes away and I arrive at your doorstep to find you're not even awake, never mind ready.” Oak's words were followed by a series of knocks, which Daveed could hear through the phone but also coming faintly from outside his bedroom.

“Shit.” Realizing that, amidst the flurry of pity and nicotine, he'd forgotten to set his alarm, Daveed begrudgingly pulled himself out of bed, tired legs with muscles stiff from sleep carrying him all the way over to the front door of his apartment, all the while Oak berated him over the phone and knocked away at the wood. Twisting the keys, Daveed pulled the door open at last and found Oak stood there, fist raised in mid knock.

“You look like shit.” Oak proceeded to brush past him and, after closing his front door again, Daveed followed the man to find him with his hand knuckle deep in a tub of peanut butter.

“Please, make yourself at home.” It was no more than a mutter under his breath but Oak had heard it and responded with a peanut butter coated middle finger.

The crappy coffee maker was switched on and Daveed went back into the messy bedroom. He'd just pulled some sweatpants over his legs when he heard Oak calling out to him from the kitchen. Slipping one of his t-shirts on, from his ever growing collection of Oakland attire, he made his way back over to the man and the freshly brewed coffee- which, without a doubt, was not going to be warm enough nor sweet enough- only to find his friend had abandoned the jar of peanut spread and instead was flicking through his mail. Despite this, a sip of underwhelming caffeine was more of a priority than questioning Oak.

“Who's Raquel and why is she inviting you to her wedding?” Now that, that was certainly more important than coffee.

Dropping his mug back onto the counter with almost enough force to shatter it, Daveed dove forward and ripped the envelope out of Oak's hands. Just like he'd said, inside of it was a wedding invitation from one Raquel Castro. The very same girl who'd once sent her friend to ask for his number. The very same girl who'd helped him plan out his first date with her best friend. The very same girl who'd been sneakily finding out what Y/N's ring size was only two months before his world came crashing down.

Given the memories he'd recalled the night before, part of Daveed couldn't help but think this invitation was more than a simple coincidence. A week after the break up, Raquel had called him. She'd been angry and accusatory with her words but it stemmed from her own confusion and inability to comprehend why things had ended so hastily between him and Y/N. Daveed couldn't understand it himself either. The call had ended up being the first thing to make him smile in his new found singleness. The two had maintained frequent contact from there on out, casual texts sent between them both just around once every month, Raquel had even taken a trip into New York with her fiancé and stopped by one of the Hamilton performances. But this invite, it had to be some sort of sign from the universe, a sign involving Y/N. Unfortunately, Daveed had not a single clue how to interpret this sign.

It took him a total of nine days to RSVP for the ceremony, playing out the pros and cons of his attendance. The fact Y/N would likely be there was the only pro that was also a con, and vice versa. Maybe he'd find some closure or, at the very least, answers to the questions he'd had on his mind since the day she'd slammed the door shut on their love. More likely, he'd spend the whole night alone at the singles table, nursing some old whiskey and watching her dance the night away in another man's arms.

January, 2016

This time, the DJ seemed to be enamored with some niche European techno music and Lin, a sweating mess on the relatively small dance floor, had become his number one fan. Next to the dancing maniac were the so called Schuyler Sisters, Jasmine and Reneé were busy taking turns dancing with the long haired man whilst Phillipa was losing herself in laughter between videoing the lot of them. Scattered along the club were the rest of the cast and crew. In fact, most of the people Daveed held closest to him were there, all banding together to celebrate something they had in common: him.

For them, it was the celebration of his 34th birthday. For him, it was a pity party for his 2nd birthday in a row without Y/N by his side.

He'd made a vow to not be bitter that night and focus on being grateful for what and who he did have in his life. Thus far, he'd done a good job. For the first night out in months, Daveed hadn't spent the night sat at the bar alone. He'd danced with friends and done shots with strangers and flirted with beautiful women. But it was hard to ignore the elephant in the room. All of his friends were there with their significant others whilst he was there with his bottle of champagne.

Tilting the bottle back, Daveed welcomed the bubbled drink in and gulped several times before dropping it back onto one of the many tables they'd all occupied. Just as he made the decision to stop thinking about her, destiny or the universe or whatever higher being was out there decided it was time for his birthday present.

He could hear the group of girls long before he could see them. A ruckus of screeching and slurred words was approaching and, from the neon bracelets and the sashes draped across scantily clad chests, it was clear as day to him that a bridal party had just entered the building, and they were far from subtle.

His curious eyes found themselves scanning over each girl of the bridal party as they filtered their way over to the other side of the VIP lounge. They were a sea of nameless faces, hooting and cheering like a bunch of frat guys on a night out and, as easy as it would be to find them irritating, Daveed couldn't help but chuckle and enjoy the fact that other people were having a great night. Until his eyes drifted to the back of the group.

At first, it just felt like a coincidence. A dress, laced with familiarity and the color red, which he was sure he'd seen before. But, then again, there were tons of red dresses in the world. Then, the girl looked up from her phone and Daveed felt the wind get knocked out from beneath his feet. Clinging to the table in front of him for support, he watched her smile at her friend.

It was the kind of smile he used to pull from her, whilst they were both spread out on each end of the sofa and a terribly romantic movie playing in the background of their happiness. He'd cheesily recite lines from the movie to her and revel in the way he could still make her blush, even if she hid it with a cringe. And when he'd agree to stop, he'd always tell her he loved her. No cheesy lines, no big words or unrealistic speeches that took place in airports. Just a flat out, honest, sincere “I love you”. Y/N would just smile and he'd already know she loved him back, no words needed.

“Wow buddy, you alright there?” The distinguishable voice of Anthony Ramos cut through Daveed's reminiscing yet his eyes never left her. He was frozen in time, hyper focused on each gesture she made. Most of all, he was desperately trying to spot the ring on her finger. “You look like you've seen a ghost.”

Daveed bit back a comment about the ghost being from his past, of a life he could have had. Grabbing a half filled shot glass, he threw it’s contents down his throat, not even grimacing as the liquor stung his nerves. “I'm great. Just tired. S'been a long day, y'know?” His words were a little more unsteady and slurred than he would have preferred but Daveed was sure he'd sounded convincing enough.

“Shots! Shots! Shots!” Anthony chanted enthusiastically over the music, gaining a few glares and side-eye glances from surrounding tables. He truly was the human equivalent of a beagle: energetic, kinda short, great with kids. “Let's go do some! Shots always work great if you're feeling tired.”

“How 'bout you go order us some then, Ant?” Daveed said, at last tearing his eyes away from Y/N and her red dress. “I'm just... Gonna go to the bathroom real quick.”

Daveed would have felt bad for lying to Anthony, he really would have, but he just needed a breath of fresh air. And maybe a dose of poison in his lungs. Out of everyday in which he could have ended up in the same city, in the same club, in the same section as Y/N, of course it had to be the night he'd sworn off thinking about her. How cruel fate seemed to him, not allowing him a break from sorrow.

The January air had a chill to it when it embraced Daveed as he stepped out on to the small balcony, which was really just a metal enclosure that looked as if it was violating some kind of health and safety code. The club music was still audible but it was playing in sync with noise of the city. A siren was ringing in some distance. He placed his vice between his lips, ready to light it up when-

“What's the birthday boy doing out here all alone? Not throwing a pity party, I hope.”

Daveed jolted and watched as the cigarette, now having slipped out of his mouth, fell to the balcony floor and dropped through the metal caging. Biting back a curse, he finally noticed the black satin and a familiar head of blonde hair. She hadn't changed much since the last time he'd seen her. Yet again, it hadn't been long since she'd come to see Hamilton. “Raquel!” His enthusiasm was honest, as was the care he put into the hug he pulled her into.

“If only everyone was this excited to see me, the world would be a better place.” Raquel exclaimed, drawing back from his embrace and cautiously leaning against the handrail, tilting her head down as she looked over the edge. “Didn't mean to startle you, sorry.” A sheepish smile appeared. “But, hey, at least Y/N can no longer claim that I enable your smoking!”

Daveed realized then and there that it was no coincidence that Raquel had come up to him. Sure, it was his birthday, and sure, they were friends. But Daveed had been blatantly staring at his ex, her best friend, and clearly he'd been caught. If if weren't for the calming nature of her voice or the way she looked at him with equal amounts of kindness and pity, Daveed would have walked away from the conversation before it could even begin. But, it was too late now.

“Remember that trip we all took to Cancún? Where she threw the cigarettes you bought me in the bin?” For the first time, Daveed was sharing memories of her with someone else. For months, his reminiscing had been silent, not unnoticed but not shared either. It was almost like he'd been in mourning for so long and, now, he was finally ready to start celebrating the life he'd lost.

“How could I forget? She still owes me ten dollars.” Raquel laughed and he followed, even if he didn't find any humor in their conversation. His was an empty laugh. “Oh! Right! I actually needed to talk to you about something!”

“I'm all ears.”

“It's about the catering at the wedding. I know you're Jewish but I can't remember if you're kosher. Just in case you want us to mark anything non-kosher at the reception.”

“Ah,” Daveed nodded, silently appreciating that she'd even taking the time to ask him. “Don't worry, I'm not that strict about it. Honestly. Thanks for asking though.” By then he'd drawn and lit a cigarette, this time managing to not drop it. He let his eyes scan over her and he found himself unable to stop the small smile which took over his face at the sight of her bridal party wear. “The wedding isn't until August, isn't it a bit early to start up the bachelorette party?”

“This isn't my party, Diggs.” She rebutted, bumping his shoulder with her own as she stole a sip from her champagne flute. “It's a friend of mine's. That's actually why we're in New York.”

They didn't need to define who we was referring to, Daveed knew it was Y/N. If it were even possible, his heart stuttered over a beat. The question was at the tip of his tongue, longing for him to just get it over with. Rip the band-aid off, open up his wound and let it bleed out. Is it her wedding? Somehow, the answer seemed scarier than the question. “Seems everyone's getting married off then, huh?” Like a coward, he never asked.

“What about you, mister Broadway? Any lucky lady in your life?” Surely she knew the answer, considering he hadn't added a plus one on to his wedding reservation.

“No, uh, been too busy. Shows 'n stuff, y'know?” He said, not even convincing himself of his own excuses. And, from the pitiful look she was giving him and the hand she'd placed on his forearm, Raquel wasn't believing him either.

“Have you talked to her, at all? Since things ended between you guys...” She paused, as if searching for the right way to word things. “I just think you guys at least deserve some closure. Your relationship didn't even properly come to an end. One day, you guys were together, the next, well, you were over. Two years of building a life together can't just stop all of a sudden.” Daveed remained silent and Raquel took this as a sign to keep talking. “Sorry if you think it's not my place to say all this. I've been trying to tell her for months now to talk to you but she just won't listen. Not even when we came to your show.”

That had spiked his attention and his eyes widened. His show. The theater. Hamilton. She'd been there, somewhere in the mass of the audience. In anger, he wished he'd spotted her. In pain, he wished she'd have let him know. Now here was their friend, her friend, asking him to talk to her and get closure for them both. Even if it hurt him to think that Y/N was suffering, it hurt him more to think of them truly being over. And that's exactly what closure meant. The end of things. Daveed wasn't ready for her to become a part of his past yet. Besides, last time he'd seen her, Y/N seemed to be doing just fine, with or without closure.

Both of his hands were full from the tray of beverages in to-go cups he'd been sent to purchase for the cast, meaning Daveed had to shoulder his way out of the corner cafe, all the while cursing the fact he'd ever agreed to take part in the childish game of rock, paper, scissors. He'd drawn rock and wound up losing to the rest of the cast's papers. Laughter had echoed as he walked out the theater with a list of everyone's order.

A frustrated sigh escaped Daveed as he lowered the trays onto an outdoor table. Sitting unevenly on the pavement, the table wobbled. Those short three seconds had Daveed near crippled in panic as he watched the drinks shake, some almost toppling over completely. Luckily, they all stayed up right and he wasn't about to find himself buying a whole new order.

“C'mon, c'mon, hurry up.” He muttered under his breath, fingers drumming against the side of his legs, eyes staring down the street with a desperation to spot the familiar face of a fellow Hamilton cast member. He'd texted the group-chat just about ten minutes ago, someone should have been on their way to help him carry the order back.

The blaring of a horn had Daveed looking up from his phone screen. An elderly man was cursing out some taxi driver as he crossed the road, stick waving in the air as unfiltered words fell from his lips. Maybe, if Daveed hadn't stared at the scene before him for so long, he would have never noticed the jewelers directly across the street from him.

Maybe he would have never noticed a man and woman inside the store. Him, with his arm around her shoulder, and her, with her eyes fixated on the display of rings in front of her, and both with smiles brighter than any collapsing star. He watched, throat dry and limbs heavy, as the attendant in the store helped the woman slide on the ring. The engagement ring. She nodded, just one nod, and that's all it took for Daveed's world to implode. Of course, the couple were completely unaware of the heartbreak they were causing as they waited for the ring to be wrapped and bagged. The man had eagerly pulled out his credit card, as if he couldn't wait a second longer to purchase it, and the woman welcomed the bag into her waiting hands, like she was desperate to return the ring to it's rightful home: her left ring finger.

It was selfish, Daveed knew that, but he'd been hoping Y/N was just as torn up by their break up as he still was.

Instead, she was engaged. To another man, another future.

“There you are! God, this place was further than I expected.” Daveed turned his head to see one of the ensemble members, Ariana, approaching him. She smiled and he done his best to return the gesture. “Alright, what ones am I carrying?”

“Oh. Uh,” He blindly grabbed two of the sets of drinks, offering them to her. “these ones. I got the rest.”

“Okay! Let's go, pretty sure poor Leslie is gonna pass out from exhaustion if he doesn't get his dose of coffee soon.” Daveed hesitated following her and, instead, stared back over at the other side of the street. He found the store was now empty of customers and Y/N was no longer there. “Hello? Earth to Daveed!”

“Huh?”

“You okay there? You were just staring off into space for like, 2 minutes.”

“Yeah. Yes.” He swallowed the ball of emotion pent up in his throat and walked over to her, ignoring the little voice in his head telling him to look back. It just wanted to torture him some more. “Just,” He sighed. “thought I saw someone.”

“If she doesn't want to talk, then there's no reason for me to do it. Maybe it's just better for us both if we keep to ourselves.” The reality was that Daveed didn't think he'd be able to get through talking to her even if she did want to speak about it. Not when he'd spend the whole time staring at her hands, at the rock resting on her finger, at the pledge of love and fidelity she'd given to someone else. “So, how's wedding planning been treating you? You excited to just get it over with?”

“A hundred percent!” Raquel laughed and he relaxed, thankful for the fact she'd let him change the topic of conversation. “Don't get me wrong, some of the planning has been fun. Cake tasting? I highly recommend it. And I've got her learning salsa for our first dance. But, yeah, venue planning and the cost of it all has been a bit of a bummer. I'll be glad to never have to do that again.”

“Salsa? Great choice, bring a little flavor into the whole traditional wedding dancing.”

“Yeah! Fuck swaying side to side awkwardly, I'm putting on a performance! It's been a messy journey, planning everything. Even just something as simple as seating arrangements, who the hell knew it was such a process to organize all that crap?” She threw her hands up, the remainder of her champagne sloshing inside of the glass. “But it'll be worth it when I walk down the aisle with her. We're gonna put all other brides to shame in our dresses. Shit, sorry, all I talk about recently is the wedding! You can tell me to stop if you want.”

“It's fine, no worries. You're happy, it's nice.” He felt a tug at his heartstrings all of a sudden, very aware of the fact of how much had changed since the two had first met. It really did fill him with joy to see her so happy. “You deserve it, Kelly.”

“You know I hate being called that, David.” The two old friends laughed in unison after she lightly kicked him with her heeled foot, not even hard enough to leave a scuff on his jeans. “It's crazy, you know, that just about four years ago I was trying to get in your pants. And now I'm a few months away from getting married! To the love of my life! I mean, she's honestly the best thing that's ever happened to me, D, you have no idea.”

He had an idea and it was somewhere else inside the busy club, wrapped in red and the familiar scent of coconut- it had always been her favorite - but he wasn't sure he was allowed to speak about her like Raquel spoke about her fiancé. That was reserved for someone else now. He also held back on pointing out the pitiful fact that it seemed people who pursued him would wind up engaged afterwards.

At some point, they both went their separate ways, back to their respective groups. Daveed eventually threw caution to the wind, a fresh wound on his soul after having seen Y/N urging him on. Every drink he was handed ended up down his throat and, somehow, Lin managed to rope him into dancing to the shitty music with him. They all danced, cramped together in the limited space like canned tuna. When the last song was played, when the last drink had been poured, when the last cab had been hailed, a very intoxicated Daveed found himself stumbling into the apartment of a stranger wrapped in red. The fact she smelt like sweat and lavender was the only downside.

If he hadn't drank so much or gotten so reckless and careless, perhaps his phone wouldn't have been left abandoned among glitter and emptied glasses in the deserted club, it's screen lit up with two notifications:

00:49 am (+81) 03-3***-****: happy birthday, d. i'm glad to see you're having a fun night!

02:18 am (+81) 03-3***-****: you're wearing my favorite shirt of yours.

August, 2016

The sun setting over the horizon burned at Daveed's tired eyes as he stepped off the plane, thankful to be home yet dreading the next day. The whole flight over he'd practically gone through the works of all possible emotions he could feel towards his impending future. Excited, saddened, nervous, happy, frustrated, nervous again. Every possible scenario had played through his mind, ones where the two did not speak, others were they done nothing but speak and one, shamefully, where they done something but it was not speaking.

The wedding was one sleep away and he was no more prepared to be in such close proximity of Y/N than he had been the night of the club or the day on the sidewalk.

His dad had picked him up from the airport, lending him a hand with his limited luggage and pulling his cherished son into a warm hug. The whole drive back to his father's home had been filled with playing catch up, Daveed sharing stories of his cast mates and his father telling him about his new hobby of coaching a local junior basketball team. Daveed was grateful for his dad not asking about Y/N. If it had been his mother, all intentions pure and caring, she would have began to question him on the matter the second he was strapped in to his seat and unable to escape.

His parents had always liked Y/N, that was for sure. And, while it had been a blessing during their relationship to see his mother dote over her like she were her own daughter or to witness her beat his dad at guitar hero, it had become a curse when things had ended. The way things ended did not make matters any better. His own mother had given Daveed the silent treatment for a whole two days after he explained to her how things had gone down.

He fell asleep that night, his bag opened yet not unpacked, in the guest bedroom of his father's home. A belly full of pizza and beer, mind full of worry and doubt.

Hours later, after a shower, a shave and a shit ton of stressing as he pulled on his suit, Daveed found himself parked outside the venue. Finding a parking space had been stressful enough but it was nothing compared to the on-going battle between him and his crooked tie. It had only hit him that morning just how long it had been since he'd had to tie his own tie, too accustomed to his new normal of having a stylist dress him for most formal occasions. Before that, he'd had Y/N.

A few months into their relationship, when he finally felt confident enough to meet her parents, she'd went out of her way to learn exactly how to tie a tie and she'd wordlessly done it for him that evening, his hands too shaky and his nerves too on edge. From there onward, he'd purposefully mess up only to have her stand so close, where he could comfortably lay his hand to rest on her lower back as she worked away at sorting the piece of cloth around his neck.

“That's as good as it's gonna get.” The quiet of his car was filled with his disappointed voice as the less crooked tie stared back at him through the rear view mirror. Despite his words, he gave it one last tug and stepped out of the car.

He hadn't expected to be recognized by so many familiar faces. He probably should have expected some though, these were people who'd been friends to him once upon a time ago. To add tension to an already tense situation, everyone that felt the need to come up to him was dancing around the fact things had ended between him and Y/N and that was why they'd stopped talking to him.

“It's been so long since I've seen you! I've just been swamped with work, you know? And, New York! You were on Broadway. How's Broadway? Must be exciting to be on Broadway!” They'd all have the same excuses to avoid the obvious: they were Y/N's friends first and they'd be hers till the end.

Daveed wished he believed it when he told himself he didn't mind that.

The venue of the ceremony was breathtakingly beautiful and, now sat among (luckily) unfamiliar faces, Daveed took the chance to fully appreciate the scenery.

It was being held within a greenhouse, and in almost every inch of the place there was a strike of greenery. The surrounding walls were made up solely of glass windows, serving as a source of natural light. At the end of the aisle, where the exchanging of vows, crying of happy tears and giving of rings would be taking place, was a beautiful water display, with water so fresh looking it appeared drinkable. And the air? It was smothered in the scent of life: blossoming buds and flourishing flowers and ripening fruits. Splashes of red and yellow, of blue and lilac, of pink and orange effortlessly added more class and detail into the green venue.

If the venue was breathtaking, the ceremony was heartbreakingly tender.

The two teary eyed brides had walked down the aisle with the person they'd chosen to give them away and, by the time they were both facing each other at the makeshift altar, Daveed could already see a stray tear falling down Raquel's cheek. At that, he smiled. And stayed smiling throughout the whole ceremony. Until it came to Raquel's vows.  At some point in her big proclamation of love, she began speaking about how her and her bride had first met, about how she hadn't even realized she was being hit on by her and how, when she was asked for her number, Raquel thought she'd just wanted to be friends. She spoke of how two dear friends of her's told her she was being asked out on a date, not just to hang out as friends.

For the first time during the ceremony, Daveed finally looked directly at where Y/N stood in front of the other bridesmaids. He watched as a stray tear slid down her cheek, one she quickly tried to brush away, and her hands tightened around the bouquet they were wrapped around. His own eyes were welling up with tears in just a few seconds. While they weren't the only two in the room carrying tears in their eyes, they were the only two who's tears were made up of missed chances and broken promises and pure, untamed sadness. After all, they’d been there to witness the first meeting of the brides. They’d been together then and now, they were further apart than the stars above.

He'd told himself he'd just steal one last glance at her, remember her as she was next to the altar, all dressed up and looking beautiful albeit sad. His eyes lifted. And there was Y/N staring right back at him, a couple more tears already having fallen from her eyes. The eye contact never wavered between them both and, for the first time in a while, Daveed felt like he was actually being seen for who he really was. And when she smiled, he fell apart.

A tear finally escaped it's cage but Daveed made no attempt to wipe it away.

One luxurious meal later, and quite a few drinks from the open bar, Daveed sat in the very same situation he'd predicted. At the singles table- which was pretty depressing given who his company for the evening was -, with some girl he'd met about an hour ago talking his ears off about her job which he hadn't even asked about, a drink he’d been nursing for half an hour in his hand and his eyes hyper-focused on the dance floor. Taking another sip, he drowned out the stranger’s voice and watched how Y/N laughed at something her dance partner had whispered in her ear. 

This was how Daveed had chosen to enjoy the reception: playing a game of “Guess Who’s Marrying The Love Of Your Life?” with every man who so much as approached her. He was thankful her duties as maid of honor kept her so busy, she’d yet to have the chance to notice his incessant watching. 

Deciding he’d spotted the fiancé of his kryptonite- the man she’d been dancing with for just over twenty minutes, who she’d been sat next to during the meal, who seemed to make her laugh just as hard as Daveed once had - he pushed back his chair, straightened out the jacket of his suit and headed for his destination. 

Heavy footsteps, fists clenched, breathing erratic, Daveed stepped out into the fresh air and made his way over to the concrete railing of the balcony, a balcony far more sturdy and well designed than the one he’d stumbled onto back in January.

The silence and lonesomeness wrapped themselves around Daveed like the softest, warmest blanket on a winter's eve. For the first time since he'd arrived at the wedding celebrations, he'd found a window of peace for himself to take a moment and breathe. Recalling the conversation he'd shared with Rafa before he left for the airport- in which Rafa had been hyping him up and reassuring him he'd enjoy more than regret attending -, Daveed had to admit to himself that he was proud of how he'd done so far. Maybe not in the past hour of self pity with a side of substance abuse, but other than that he'd held himself together pretty well.  He'd congratulated Raquel and her official wife, even sharing a dance with both of the women; he'd rekindled friendships, once he and they managed to push past the original discomfort of not having spoken in so long; he'd met some interesting strangers with fascinating stories; he'd ate some of the most lucrative meals he'd ever tasted and bore witness to a demonstration of pure love.

He was enjoying himself.

The only thing that made the evening unpleasant was when he'd finally zeroed in on Y/N and her smile; and the way the lights were making her eyes sparkle; and the way her dress was draped over her skin effortlessly.

The alcohol was beginning to take an effect on him, his mind becoming a little resentful towards Y/N. He'd never once hated her, even if it had been she who'd called quits on them, but he couldn't help blame her now for his situation. How was it fair that she got to move on with her life while he still could barely sit in the same room as her and keep his eyes from watching her every move, her every gesture?

“Shit.” Daveed huffed out over the sound of crickets and the muffled sound of the celebratory music, just as his lighter gave up on him and decided it would not be lighting up the cigarette for him this evening.

“We need to stop meeting this way.” He hated the way the resentment left him with as little as seven words. “People are going to start calling us predictable.”

Sure enough, when Daveed spun on his heel to face the balcony doors, there she was in all her glory, arm stretched out and lighter in hand. He wondered if she carried it around for her new man. Out here, her eyes were a lot less sparkling, her dress a lot less light, her smile a lot less wide but Daveed didn't find her any less ethereal. He never did.

“Uh,” She'd cleared her throat and Daveed felt embarrassment creep in. Here she was, perfectly composed and unaffected by him, whilst he was just as nervous as the day they had their first date; the day he'd first told her he loved her; the day he asked her to move to New York. “thank you.” He plucked the lighter from her and hit the clipper.

“No problem.” She took a sip of the glass in her hand and approached him more, till they were stood in parallel, shoulders an inch away from brushing, staring off into the dark abyss of the night that lay past the grounds of the vibrant wedding. “I see you got stuck sitting next to cousin Delia. On a score of one to ten, how bad is your headache?” Why was it so easy for her to joke around with him?

“Probably a solid seven. She talks a lot but at least there's never time for awkward silence with her.” He pulled in a drag and held back a groan when not even the nicotine could untense his muscles. “The ceremony was beautiful, you must be so happy for Raquel.”

“Yeah.” She sighed dreamily, head turning back to look at the balcony door, as if she were remembering just how beautiful indoors was. “I'm so glad everything went smoothly, they were both so stressed during the planning but it turned out exactly how they wanted.”

“They're lucky to have each other.” Why couldn't he see her engagement ring? Was she hiding it from him, out of pity? Did she know he was hung up on her? Daveed had spent so many months missing her only to resent the time he was spending with her. Stood on that balcony, hardly any space between them, Y/N had never felt further away. “So, how've you been? Like, work and shit.”

“I've been... good. Yeah, good.” There was a pause and they stood in silence, her staring off into space, him staring at her face. “I took the job, in the end, so there's that. Moved to Japan, got to have some new experiences and make new friends. Tried Sashimi, realized I do not like Sashimi. Oh! I got to watch cherry blossoms bloom. Just, yeah, I've been good.” She didn't tell him what he'd wanted to hear about. “How about you?”

“I've been great. Honestly. Work has been on the up and up since the show opened on Broadway, I’ve got some acting jobs lined up. Done some photo-shoots, made more music. Every night, there was another celebrity in the crowd. I mean, the President invited us to perform in the white house. I've been great in other parts of my life too, made some incredibly interesting friends.” Is everything Daveed wishes he said.

Instead, he said this: “Awful. I've been doing shit, for a while now.”

“D.” He couldn't help but hate the fact she called him by that. “I don't think we should get into this at Raquel's weddi-”

“Then when, Y/N?” Oh, he had not meant to sound so confrontational. Unfortunately, the little voice in his head that made up his ego was enticing him to keep going. “Ten years from now? Fifty? Oh, or should we do it at your wedding? I can't put this off any longer, alright? I'm miserable and,” He tried to compose himself, eyes squeezed shut and hands shoved in pockets. “and it's your fault. So no, we're having this conversation. You don't get to just meet someone new and act like what happened between us meant nothing, whilst I'm left frozen in a time where a reality TV star isn't our President and you're mine. Ok? I need to move on but I can't if we don't get closure.”

“It's my fault? Meet someone new!?” She was using the same tone of voice she'd used that night, when the fight to end it all first broke out. “Daveed, you ended things between us, not me. Or did you forget?”

“Weird, I don't remember breaking up with a guy named Daveed and slamming the door shut on my way out.” He stepped back, dropping the wasted cigarette into an ashtray. “But I remember you doing something along those lines.”

“Well, do you remember the part where your girlfriend told you she'd just been offered her dream job and all you had to say was that you two needed to break up?”

“The job was in Tokyo!”

“Oh! So, it was okay when I made the sacrifice of moving to New York with you but you couldn't just deal with some long-distance dating?”

“What did you want me to say, Y/N?” Up until then, their voices had been rising in volume but this time Daveed was softly spoken. “I was happy for you. But I also realized how much things wouldn't work between us. Between Broadway and you being all the way in Japan and the time difference, when would there be time for us?”

“If you really want something, there's always a way.” Y/N said, resting her back against the balcony ledge. “Maybe you just didn't want us, enough.”

“You didn't have to leave though.” He followed suit, back against ledge and feet crossed. “Yeah, I messed up and said something I didn't mean out of fear of losing you, but you didn't have to take my advice and actually walk out the door.”

“How was I supposed to stay after that? It stung, D. I thought you had more faith in us. But you weren't wrong, I guess hearing you say we'd have to break up made me realize just how much the job change would really effect us both. I think we both played our part in ending things- Oh my god, I'm so sorry!” One second, Daveed had been quietly reflecting on her every word. The next, spilled champagne was seeping through his white shirt.

“It's, uh, fine. No worries. I'll just go try get this off me.”

“Let me help!”

As a man, Daveed was shocked to see just how perfectly clean and nice smelling the female restroom was. Everything seemed to sparkle in the light. He had traded leaning his back against the balcony banister for leaning it against the counter top of the sinks, his own hands wiping at his shirt with paper towels Y/N was handing him. She'd quickly and carefully dragged him into the toilets and stripped him of his suit jacket, all the while apologizing again and again for having soaked him.

Surprisingly, he didn't care.

“You can be honest with me, you know.” He glanced at her before refocusing on his shirt. They'd been talking lightly, of things that held no real value but were preferred over the discussion on the balcony. “You can tell me if you found someone new.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Nothing, really. I just, I saw you. A few months ago. You were getting fitted for an engagement ring with some man at your side.”

“Do you mean my cousin? Who was planning a proposal for his girlfriend?” He could see the amusement on her lips as she handed him another paper towel. He felt his heart rate pick up. “My turn. Why didn't you answer my text? If you were doing so bad, wouldn't you want to talk it out as soon as possible?”

“Text? What text?”

“The one I sent you on your birthday? We were in the same club but, I don't think you saw me.”

“Oh, I saw you. I think you were all I saw that night.” He instantly regretted what he said. “I mean, I lost my phone that night. Haven't seen it since.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.”

Silence kept them apart for the rest of the time. Eventually, Daveed decided his shirt was as dry as it was going to get. Then, he felt it. Y/N, without missing a beat, reached up and adjusted his tie. Both their breaths caught in their throats. The silence between them became tension. In a matter of seconds, everything was turned around, literally. She was hoisted up on the counter and he was stood between her spread legs, his hands on her hips and hers going back and forth between running through his hair and gripping on to his damp shirt. They were doing their best to keep quiet, swapping moaning out for heavy breathing.

Daveed was struggling to think straight, between the familiarity of her skin and the scent of coconut, it was as if they'd spent no time apart. Suddenly, anyone else he'd slept with between their break up and now hadn't really counted and this was the first time he was being touched in years.

When it was over, he was speechless and she was incapable of not speaking.

“Okay, so, um, I'll sneak out first and then you just, wait in here for five minutes. Then slip out. That way, no one has to see us both exit the bathroom together. Okay, great catching up, see you when I see you. Bye!”

By the time he came back to his senses, he was stood alone in the female bathroom, the top button of his shirt undone and his tie discarded on the floor. He shoved it into his back pocket and slipped on the jacket of his suit, not bothering to even discreetly leave the toilets. Luckily, no one noticed him.

Returning to the event hall, he instantly began his search for Y/N but he failed to spot any sign of her. Had she vanished into thin air? Had she even been there?

“If you're looking for Y/N, she just bolted out of here like the floor was on fire. Pretty sure she called a cab but you didn't hear that from me.” He turned to find Raquel staring at him, a smile on her face. “Stop wasting time on staring at me and go get her, lover boy.”

Daveed did not need to be told twice, his history with running track kicking in as he raced out of the hall. He sped down the corridor, dodging any oncoming guests before he burst out of the doors, stepping out into the fresh air. He could see her in the distance, standing with her arms around herself as she shifted from side to side.

“Y/N!” Daveed yelled out as he ran over to her. When she made no attempt to move away from him, he felt hope begin to rise in his soul. “Why'd you leave?”

“Daveed, we don't have to do this. In fact, we shouldn't do this.”

“Have coffee with me.”

“D, I don't-”

“One coffee, that's it. You can even get it in a to-go cup. Y/N, it's just coffee, I'm not asking for your hand in marriage.” He loved the way she was struggling to hold back a smile. “So, what do you say?”

August, 2020

The world from his garden felt calm, peaceful, as if everything wasn't falling to shit in the midst of all kinds of disasters.

It was the middle of the night and, no matter how hard he tried, Daveed couldn't sleep. Even after having more or less quit a few years back, he could tell there was only one thing that was going to calm his nerves. So, creeping out of bed cautiously, he'd reached into his bedside drawer and grabbed the little packet he kept hidden beneath his socks. Maybe it was just the recent times taking a toll on him, quarantine beginning to exhaust him, but Daveed had been feeling more stressed out than ever.

He sighed, one hand rubbing at the sleep in his eye and the other trying to light up his cigarette. Then, he noticed the blue plastic and a whispered “Fuck.” escaped from him. If he'd considered heading back indoors to find his functioning lighter instead of the empty one, it didn't matter because the cigarette and it's packet were plucked away from him by smaller hands.

“You shouldn't be smoking, D.”

“I know, I know, it's bad for my health. Just, a little stressed.” He welcomed the way she wrapped her arms around his waist, molding herself into his side as he wrapped his own arm around her shoulder. “Better now that you're here.”

“Hmm.” She hummed sleepily, squeezing her arms around him some more. “You're so warm. Like, a human hot-water bottle.”

“Just say I'm hot, I already know you're thinking it.” His lips rested on her forehead and the scent of coconut consumed him.

“Why did I agree to marry a man with an ego the size of the Statue Of Liberty?”

“Because that man's love for you is the size of Mount Everest.” He soothingly rubbed her back, feeling himself finally wanting to fall asleep. “Plus, he has really good hair.”

When he fell asleep that night, it was in the same way he'd fallen asleep for the past few years, and how he wanted to fall asleep every night that remained in his time alive: with her between his arms. He'd gone from being as useless, soulless as an empty lighter without her by his side to now, where he never had to worry about not being able to spark up again. He had Y/N and he wouldn't let anything change that. Not distance, time, health, anything.

[glitchh3d]

Halloween Party (Terushima x Reader) [HTF]

So, I didn’t proof read this. My apologies. 

Also, it’s not the best because I’m not the best at writing and i’m very tired and sad because my halloween went to crap but y’know. whatever. 

Ily guys!! Here you go! 🥰

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: Cheating but not really. Language. Talk about sex. Talk about drugs. Alcohol and other college party stuff. 

Masterlist

(Y/n), Terushima, Futakuchi, Atsumu and Taichi walked into Kuroo and Bokuto’s house later than expected, but there was a round of cheers for them as soon as they were noticed. Kuroo bounced over excitedly, his drink spilling over the edge of his red solo-cup as he pulled (Y/n) away to lead her toward Matsukawa and Hanamaki who were waiting for her in the backyard with Oikawa and Iwaizumi. 

She giggled upon seeing them in their costumes. Hanamaki had darkened his hair somehow so it was red but Matsukawa had left his, instead styling it slightly. 

“Oh my god, you two-” She fell into a fit of laughter as they strutted around and showed off their legs that were covered in thin white tights. She pulled them into a tight hug, thanking them for doing the group costume with her. “I love you guys, thank you so much!” 

Hanamaki and Matsukawa both laughed and shrugged it off. 

“Anything for you, (Y/n). You’re our girl.” Matsukawa said, slinging his arm around her shoulder. Makki wrapped his around her waist and Oikawa flailed his arms around excitedly. 

“Let me get pictures!” He shouted, his halo nearly falling off as he jumped excitedly and rushed towards them. Iwaizumi rolled his eyes but smiled at his friends. 

(Y/n) giggled at his annoyed look, curious on how Oikawa managed to convince him to do a couple costumes with him. They were an angel and a devil. Iwaizumi looked like he didn’t really care though, only wearing a red tight fitting t-shirt and black skinny jeans with a little devil tail clipped to his belt loop and a devil horn headband on his head. 

Oikawa on the other hand, was wearing a pure white robe that had gold accents. His cheeks were dusted with gold and he had a halo headband on. Gold bracelets went up his arms and he had big angel wings on. 

“He looks ridiculous, huh?” Iwaizumi asked as he caught (Y/n) eyeing his boyfriend's costume. She smiled and shrugged. 

“It’s cute. Yours though, mister. Holy shit. Who gave you the right to be that hot.” She asked, making him blush. Oikawa snapped a couple of pictures of the trio in their costume and then turned to admire Iwaizumi with (Y/n). 

“Iwa-chan is hot, isn’t he? But stop ogling my boyfriend! Go ogle your own!” Oikawa said, shoving his cell phone into Iwaizumi’s pocket. 

“Hey-” 

“Oh shush. You’re my pockets for the night, deal with it.” Oikawa demanded. (Y/n) smiled at them and then saw Terushima, Taichi, and Atsumu walk into the backyard. Terushima smiled at her lovingly before approaching. 

His costume, Boomer from the Rowdyruff boys, looked good. They went for more of an e-boy route so he was wearing a black and white striped long sleeve shirt under a blue t-shirt that had the iconic black stripe across the chest. He was also wearing black fishnets under his ripped skinny jeans. He stuck his tongue out and winked at her as he approached. 

“Hey baby girl,” He said, pulling her away from Hanamaki and Matsukawa who raised their eyebrows at him. 

“Look at this tool,” Matsukawa said as Terushima wrapped his arms around (Y/n)’s waist and rested his chin on her shoulder. He cocked his head to the side and winked at them. 

Taichi and Atsumu approached on either side of them. Taichi looked bored, but Atsumu was grinning. 

“Wow, lookin’ hot Matsukawa.” He teased. He’d gone with Butch from the Rowdyruff boys but instead of wearing a long sleeve striped shirt, he was wearing a black hoodie under his green t-shirt. And he had dyed his hair back to black just for the night.

(Y/n) had tried suggesting to just use some wash out spray to do his hair but she was a few minutes too late. 

Flashback to the night before

(Y/n) walked into her apartment after a busy day at work, Taichi trailing after her tiredly. They had been on the closing shift for the night. 

“Teru! Atsumu! Ken? You guys here?” She called into the apartment. She heard a loud crash in the bathroom and hurried towards it, dropping her bag on the floor in her rush. “Holy shit, what happened? Are you oka….y?” 

In the bathroom, Atsumu was sitting on the toilet with a towel wrapped around his neck and shoulders. Terushima was holding a bottle of hair dye and Futakuchi was laying in the bathtub, watching. 

“Why the hell didn’t you just use the halloween hair dye spray that washes out?” She asked as Taichi peeked in over her shoulder. He groaned and turned and walked away. 

“...I didn’t think of that.” 

END of flashback

“Fuck, I know.” Matsukawa said back, a grin rising to his face. They fist bumped. 

Hanamaki grinned at Taichi who shook his head. 

“Don’t.” Taichi said. He was Brick and he absolutely hated it, even though he didn’t wear anything out of ordinary. He was in a red jumper with singular black stripes on the upper arms. He had a lock and chain necklace on and a single dangly cross earring on.  He also was wearing a black beanie and he looked cute in (Y/n)’s opinion. 

“But Taichi, bro! You look good. We’d make a picture perfect couple, don’t you think?” Hanamaki asked, batting his eyelashes at him. 

“I’m going to find Semi.” Taichi disappeared after that. Hanamaki pouted but turned and grinned at (Y/n) again a second later. 

“I’m gonna go harass him,” Hanamaki said, making everyone laugh as he sprinted off. Atsumu and Matsukawa followed after him, leaving Iwaizumi, Oikawa, (Y/n) and Terushima alone. Oikawa smiled at Terushima but it was a bit forced. 

“You two look good. Don’t they, Iwa-chan?” Iwaizumi stared at the couple then he shrugged. 

“(Y/n) looks good. I dunno about Terushima though,” Terushima gasped and pulled away from (Y/n), glaring at the two older men. 

“You two are fucking rude.” He said making (Y/n) snort. “I’m going to grab a drink, alright babe? I’ll be back in a few, yeah?” (Y/n) nodded. He kissed her cheek goodbye and then walked towards the glass sliding door that was wide open. (Y/n) smiled after him and then turned back to her friends who were watching her with fond looks. 

“What?” She asked defensively. They shrugged. 

“You just look really happy is all,” Iwaizumi said, crossing his arms. Oikawa nodded in agreement. 

“You do seem happy. I’m glad. You deserve it, (Y/n)-chan!” She smiled at them and pulled them into a hug. 

“Aw, you guys…” She said as they both hugged her back. Iwaizumi was the first to squirm away, claiming he also needed a drink. Oikawa and (Y/n) let him go with little pouts but when they curled up on chairs next to the fire pit and chatted to themselves.

“So (Y/n)-chan. You and Teru have been together for a few weeks now, yeah?” 

“Yup!” 

“And he treats you right?” Oikawa asked, eyes narrowing. She nodded. 

“Of course he does. He gets a simp of the year award.” She said with a smile. Oikawa nodded and fist bumped her. 

“Iwa-chan does too. He’s very sweet behind closed door,” Oikawa winked and she snorted. “Speaking of behind closed doors. Have you two-” 

“No.” She replied quickly making Oikawa freeze with wide eyes. Then he smirked. 

“My my, (Y/n)-chan. That was a hard no, wasn’t it?” He asked and she rolled her eyes, pulling her legs to her chest as she stared at the flickering flames of the fire. “Why’s that? You’ve had sex before haven’t you?” She shrugged. 

“I- I guess I’m scared?” (Y/n) said, not looking up. 

“Why?” Oikawa frowned. 

“Because Yuuji has this image, right? He’s popular. Nice. Funny… I’m scared that once he gets all of me then he’ll leave because he’s had better and-”

“Sorry, I’m gonna stop you there.” Oikawa grabbed (Y/n)’s hand and squeezed it gently. “I don’t know Terushima too well, but from what you tell me, he seems like a great guy. One who respects you and cares about you a lot. I don’t think you need to rush to have sex or anything but I don’t think you should be scared to have sex either.” 

She nodded and smiled back at him. 

“Yeah… You’re right. I just-” (Y/n) was cut off by the back glass door getting slammed open. Iwaizumi was fuming and his hair was dripping with water as he walked towards them. “Oh shit, what happened Iwa?” 

“I swear to god I’m going to kill your boyfriend (Y/n).” 

“What? Why?” Her heart was racing.

“He fucking- that bastard just almost drowned me in that stupid apple bobbing bullshit!” (Y/n) and Oikawa laughed as Iwaizumi ran his hands through his hair. He flicked droplets of water at them and then sat in the small gap of the chair next to Oikawa before pulling his boyfriend onto his lap. 

Oikawa whispered something into Iwaizumi’s ear and the ex ace began to turn red. (Y/n) smiled and looked away from them as they started having their own little private conversation. She didn’t want to intrude so she stood up, saying she was going to grab a drink. 

“Hey hey hey! What’s up, (Y/n)!” Bokuto asked as (Y/n) entered the house. She smiled at him and patted his arm as he pulled her into a side hug. 

“Hey Bokuto! I like your costume!” He looked down at her confused. “I LIKE YOUR COSTUME!” She shouted over the music. He laughed and nodded. He was a sexy firefighter, wearing only the pants of the costume with suspenders and the helmet. 

“I like yours too!” (Y/n) smiled at him and then eyed Akaashi who was standing next to him, wearing a lifeguard costume (aka just a shite t-shirt with a red cross on it and red swim shorts). He had sunscreen smeared on his nose and a cheap flimsy whistle around his neck. He smiled at her as she got done looking him up and down and then also pulled her into a small hug. 

“Hello, (Y/n)-san.” 

“Hi Akaa-chii! He smiled at the nickname and patted her head before he was dragged away towards a beer pong table by Bokuto who was screaming at Kuroo and Daichi for a re-match. 

She chuckled fondly and kept maneuvering her way through the crowd of unfamiliar faces and costumes. She dodged angel and devil wings and even a long dragon tail. She also had to avoid the ass end of a donkey costume that was dancing wildly on the dance floor. 

She sighed as she got to the kitchen, reaching into a random cooler to grab a drink. She popped the cap off the bottle and took a long swig, her face contorting in disgust at the taste of whatever she grabbed. 

“Hey, (Y/n).” Futakuchi said as he entered the kitchen. She smiled at him. 

“Hi Ken,” She smiled at him. “Where are the others?” 

“Ah, Terushima is dancing in the living room I think and Taichi and Atsumu are doing keg stands in the game room.” She nodded and thanked him, heading towards the livingroom to try and track down her boyfriend. 

Upon entering the living room, she immediately spotted him. There in all his glory he was dancing with their newfound friends. Suga and a bunch of people she’d never seen before were hyping him up, dancing and jumping around with him. He was in his element. 

“Do it! Do it! Do it!” A chant started and Terushima laughed along, rolling his eyes. There was a girl with blonde hair standing next to him that grabbed him by the back of the neck, yanking him down and into a kiss. 

At first (Y/n) didn’t realize what was going on. And then it clicked. 

Terushima had just kissed someone. 

Her boyfriend just kissed someone that wasn’t her. 

Her boyfriend willingly just kissed someone that wasn’t her, in front of her. 

“What the fuck.” (Y/n) said, her hand that was holding her beverage falling limp against her side. Everything felt like it was in slow motion. 

Everything aside from Terushima was blurred as he laughed and joked with the girl he’d just kissed. Like he didn’t do anything wrong. 

(Y/n) realized that the only reason everything was blurry was because of the tears gathering in her eyes. But if Terushima was going to act like nothing was wrong, then so was she. So she left. She set her bottle down on the counter as she walked towards the door. Kuroo and Semi both tried calling out to her but she ignored them, exiting the house quietly. She wrapped her arms around her bare arms as she walked down the sidewalk and towards the unfamiliar city of Tokyo. 

She didn’t know where she was going, but she knew Kait was somewhere within the giant city. She just hoped that Kait had her phone on her.

(Y/n) walked a little further to a little empty park, sitting down on the empty swings. By now all the trick or treaters were gone and the streets were empty aside from a few small groups of teens who were laughing and teasing each other. 

“What the fuck,” (Y/n) repeated to herself as the image of her boyfriend kissing another girl replayed in her head. She didn’t want to believe that it was true, but she’d seen it with her own eyes as Terushima pressed his lips to some blonde girls. 

She didn’t realize that the tears were falling until they dripped down onto her lap and through her thin dress. She was shaking from the cold but she didn’t care. She only had to wait 15 minutes and then she’d be with Kait and they could figure things out together from there. 

Would she break up with Terushima? 

Did he not love her? 

Was he just using her? Did he get bored that fast? Maybe if she’d done more he wouldn’t feel the need to go off and kiss someone else. 

She tried to be enough, she really did. 

School and work filled a lot of her schedule but she always tried to make as much time for him as she possibly could. 

Why was this happening? 

“(Y/n)?” A voice called out. Was that Kait? Had it been 15 minutes already?

 (Y/n) looked up as she heard Kait’s voice call out to her.

“Kait?” 

“Oh (Y/n),” Kait rushed forward, followed by three other figures. (Y/n)’s lip quivered as she stood up from the swing. As she met Kait halfway the tears she’d been holding back broke free and she let out a choked sob as Kait enveloped her in a hug. “Oh, honey, no…” 

_____________

Terushima laughed as he tossed back another shot of something clear. He knew it definitely wasn’t water as it made the back of his throat burn but he was okay with that. 

It was halloween night and he was at a party, the point of this entire night was to get drunk and have fun and that’s exactly what he was doing. 

“Yo, Suga! You were holding out of us with this guy! You knew he existed and didn’t tell us?” Tanaka laughed as he danced next to Terushima. Noya was jumping around excitedly next to them, screaming the lyrics to whatever song was playing on the speaker. 

Tanaka was wearing a blonde wig, an entirely pink outfit, imitating Regina George from Mean Girls. His girlfriend, Kiyoko was Aaron Samuels, wearing a simple blue mens polo shirt and some baggy jeans with her hair pulled back into a low ponytail. Noya was Gretchen Weiners but his brunette wig had ended up falling off when he did a keg stand earlier and he was just too lazy to put it back on. They had convinced their friend Kinnoshita to be Karen Smith but he was currently puking his guts out in the bathroom upstairs accompanied by Ennoshita and Narita who were Cady Heron and Janis Ian. 

“Yo I could kiss this man right now,” Terushima said as Tanaka poured him another shot. Noya smirked. 

“Do it!” Suga rolled his eyes but nodded in agreement. 

“Do it! Do it!” 

And soon enough the entire room was cheering for the two to kiss. Tanaka rolled his eyes but reached and grabbed Terushima by the back of his neck, pulling him down into a quick kiss. When they separated, they laughed and fist bumped, taking another shot. 

After a few more minutes of dancing, Terushima made his way towards the kitchen where Semi and Kuroo looked concerned. 

“What’s going on guys?” He asked as he pulled a beer can from a cooler. He popped the tab and took a sip as they exchanged looks of concern. “Hey, either of you two seen (Y/n)? I left her in the back with Oikawa and Iwaizumi but I haven’t been back there and-”

“Terushima, (Y/n) left.” Semi said, making Terushima freeze. 

“What?” 

“We both just saw (Y/n) take off out the door a few minutes ago. She looked like she was about to cry,” Kuroo said, making Terushima enter panic mode. 

“And neither of you tried to stop her?” 

“I- we called out to her. We thought she was just getting some fresh air or something, calm down. I’m sure she’s fine.” Semi said, making Terushima shake his head. 

“No, I gotta go find her. She doesn’t know her way around Tokyo. None of us do, what if she gets kidnapped?” 

“What’s going on in here?” Matsukawa asked as Terushima slammed his beer can on the counter. He pulled out his phone and started texting (Y/n). 

“Did you see (Y/n) leave?” 

“(Y/n) left?” Oikawa asked as he and Iwaizumi entered the kitchen. Terushima shook his head as he got no response. 

“She’s not answering me. Oikawa, text her.” 

“What? What the fuck is going on?” Iwaizumi asked as Oikawa pulled out his phone and began texting their friend. 

“(Y/n) took off a few minutes ago and now she’s not answering her phone.” 

“Okay so check all the rooms and stuff. And check outside. Try and find her around the house before we go out looking, yeah?” Kuroo said, making everyone in the kitchen nod and split up. Terushima and Semi went out the front door, calling (Y/n), hoping to either get her to answer or to hear her ringtone but there was nothing. 

“Fuck!” Terushima shouted. “I lost my fucking girlfriend and she’s probably scared and upset and-” 

“Do you think someone drugged her?” Terushima’s head turned at lightning speed and he glared at Semi. 

“Why would you even say that?” 

“I- what! It happens!” 

Well. That happened. 

Another post tomorrow <3 

Love you guys! I hope you had a Happy Halloween! Goodnight! 

Taglist: @kaitycole, @cosmicmermaid25, @sempiternal-amour, @99astrid, @hidden-otaku-stuff, @vicassa, @elianetsantana, @ankl3s, @newfriendjen, @oikawa-simp, @dakotacecily, @axolotleyeliner, @heyyourecute, @tchalameme, @toobsessedsstuff, @marinovakovich, @disaster-rose, @tacosforexo, @sleep3deprived, @prettyinblack231 (Open)

[eury--dice]

history, huh?

chapter one: principium

(or: the Red, White, and Royal Blue TRC AU, but no knowledge of the book is needed to read this! ao3 link in the rb)

Adam knew he was in trouble when he found himself covered in cake, champagne, and shattered glass while clutching onto someone’s sleeve.

Admittedly, the memory of the night as a whole is a bit fuzzy around the edges, softened by jet lag and overwhelming anger and a few flutes of champagne worth more than the house Adam grew up in. But he remembered enough to recall some key details: one, it was no ordinary reception, it was the royal wedding; two, the cake covering him was the 75,000-dollar royal wedding cake; and three, that he clutched onto His Royal Highness, Prince Ronan Lynch-Mountchristen-Windsor, while covered in the remnants of his champagne flute.

It was an international relations nightmare that a rational Adam Parrish, the first son of the United States, would pay to avoid at all costs. Even the slightly-inebriated Adam could feel a distant spark of fear over what Maura and Calla were going to say to him once he was not covered in frosting and brawling with a treasured member of the English monarchy. (Well, “treasured” was a relative term. Prince Ronan was more of a recently-reformed scandal than a treasure.)

But as he caught a glimpse of Blue’s expression, a carefully constructed mask of surprise for the cameras that only those who knew her personally could read the amusement behind, Gansey’s hand wrapped around his wrist and yanked Adam off of the ground. 

He must have abandoned his conversation with Roger Malory to come and bail Adam out; deep down, beyond the adrenaline and anger and alcohol pumping through his veins, Adam was touched at the gesture. Guilt also hit him with the knowledge that Gansey hadn’t had a chance to talk to Malory since he left England as a teenager and now Adam had ruined that, but he tucked it away to examine at a later moment.

Adam thought he might have heard Ronan mutter “Oh my fucking Christ” from somewhere behind him in his stupid posh accent. Slinging an arm around Adam’s frosting-coated shoulders to steer him towards the Secret Service Agents already surging forward, Gansey leaned his head towards Adam’s and whispered around a smile, “What the fresh hell did you do?”

And, well. It was a good question. He glanced back at Ronan where he lay on the ground, already brushing off the help of the royal guards and climbing gracefully to his feet, the bead of blood on his cheek sparkling in the majestic royal lighting. Just a few minutes before, the Prince had stood by himself, a dark contrast to the pristine tiered cake and tiny buttercream flowers and gleaming champagne fountain behind him. And Adam, who was rarely angry over anything but could easily go too far when provoked, decided to engage.

“If it isn’t His Royal Highness,” Adam had said, drawing Ronan’s eyes to him. He could see the moment Ronan realized he wasn’t himself, taking in the curled hand and slightly flushed cheeks. Adam was a convincingly sober drunk, and something about Ronan being able to see through it pissed him off. And the fact that Ronan had spent more than half the night hiding away from the cameras and drinking himself didn’t help. Adam would’ve expected to find him dead on his feet and barely standing, but clearly Ronan was less of a lightweight than he was.

Ronan’s lips curled in what might have passed as a smile but looked a little too much like a predator baring its teeth. “Mr. Parrish,” he said, all clipped vowels and stiff politeness that made Adam want to scream. His lips lingered on the ‘h’ shape for a moment too long. “I’m surprised you’re speaking to me.”

Honesty was the last thing Adam had expected. “Why, because you monopolized Blue and treated her like some kind of...toy to ignore?”

His nostrils flared suddenly. “No, I do not... use people. But you have been avoiding me all evening when I’ve done my best to be civil.”

Adam laughed too loudly at that. “Civil? Yeah, okay,” he said, his mouth curved into a smile. “Most civil member of your family, I’m sure. Declan and Ashley would agree.”

Ronan went silent, swirling his champagne around in his hand and raising an uncoordinated hand to run over his shaved head. When he spoke, he grit his jaw as though holding back some impulse like the good repressed English boy he was. “I’d suggest you to go drink some water and find your way out before you do something you regret.”

“Or what?”

Ronan stepped closer to Adam so that they were nearly chest-to-chest, his two-inch height advantage only pissing Adam off more. “I said I’d advise you to stop.”

And Ronan, so subtly that he doubted any camera could pick it up, pushed Adam away with one hand. It would have worked splendidly had Adam not back-tracked and grabbed Ronan’s sleeve, sending them both falling.

And now they were both covered in frosted roses and shame, Adam stuck with Gansey’s voice on the plane saying please table your rivalry for one night reverberating in his head.

What the fresh hell, indeed.

***

Silence hung over the West Wing briefing room like a wet blanket. Maura Sargent stared unblinkingly into Adam’s eyes from where she perched on the edge of the table. Adam, from his seat at the head, stared back with every ounce of courage his mother’s PR campaigns taught him. Maura seemed to be studying him, and Adam simply didn’t know how to look away.

“Blue,” Maura said finally. On Maura’s other side, Blue wordlessly handed over a stack of newspapers, her gaze shifting from Maura to Adam as though watching a ping pong tournament. Adam knew of Maura’s “no restrictions” policy at home with Blue, but everyone knew this policy in no way related to her work life. Still, Blue watched attentively with knitted brows as though trying to guess the outcome or will a better one into existence.

“Gansey?” Maura asked, all without removing her eyes from Adam’s. The touch of anxiety in Blue’s expression didn’t even begin to reach the anxiety in Gansey’s face, as he stared at Adam like he was a lost puppy. Still, Gansey had more poise than most politicians did, and he managed to smoothly relinquish a stack of magazines into Maura’s free hand. Maura combined the stacks into one in her right hand before dropping them into Adam’s lap with a dull thwap.

“These are just the ones being sold outside this morning, not to mention what’s circulating in the British tabloids,” she said, finally turning away and reaching for a mug of coffee. “Read them.” She muttered something that sounded suspiciously like Jesus, but Adam didn’t try to discern it. He went for the stack instead, glossy pages almost slipping through his thin fingers.

    THE $75,000 STUMBLE greeted him on the front page of The Washington Post.

    BATTLE ROYAL: Prince Ronan and FSOTUS Come To Blows at Royal Wedding

    CAKEGATE: Adam Parrish Sparks Second English-American War

Everywhere he flipped, images of he and Ronan covered in sparkling broken glass and frosting assaulted his eyes. The images and headlines blurred together, and he flicked his gaze back up to Maura. All he could see for a moment was Ronan’s rumpled suit and the sliver of red on his cheek. He blinked three times in rapid succession and Maura returned, her brown eyes cool and calculating over the rim of her travel mug.

“Isn’t this a topic for the Situation Room, Ms. Sargent?” He asked. His mother, seated across from him, and Blue both pursed their lips, although for entirely different reasons; Blue appeared to be holding back laughter while his mother must have been holding back something else. Maura narrowed her eyes, oblivious to Gansey’s tightening expression behind her.

“Don’t Ms. Sargent me,” she replied, her tone cool. “I knew all your secrets, kid. I’ve been watching you since you were five. The sass will get you nowhere.” She snatched the Sun article from out of his hands, flipping it open to the correct page and hiding Ronan’s buttercream-smeared frown behind her fingers. “‘Sources inside the royal reception report the two were seen arguing minutes before the cake-tastrophe. But royal family insiders claim the First Son’s feud with Ronan has raged for years. A source tells The Sun that Ronan and the First Son have been at odds ever since their first meeting at the Rio Olympics--’” here Adam made an odd, strangled noise -- “‘and the animosity has only grown—these days, they can’t even be in the same room with each other. It seems it was only a matter of time before Adam took the American approach: a violent altercation.’”

Adam locked eyes with Gansey at the last line, watching Gansey’s lips thin just as he felt the blood drain from his own face. His eyes slid over to Blue, who yielded much of the same reaction. His mother, surprisingly, didn’t change her posture. If she was thinking of Robert Parrish like the rest of them, she had a better poker face.

“They’re blaming this on Ana’s administration,” Maura continued, pushing on through the stony silence. “Please, explain the joke to me.”

“He started it,” is all Adam was able to say, which was probably one of the worst ways to defend himself. Sounding like a petulant toddler helped nobody, but he had made his bed and so he would lie in it, too. “He shoved me and I grabbed his sleeve to-”

“Adam,” his mother said, raising one hand to cut him off with the smooth, brown skin of her palm. He quieted at once, recognizing her demeanor as half-presidential and half motherly. Ana’s voice was caught somewhere between the sugary drawl that lulled him to sleep as a child and the All-American southern twang that helped win her an election. “You know I trust you, sweetheart, but the press sure as hell doesn’t give a fuck about the nitty-gritty of who started what.”

“Ronan definitely touched him first,” Gansey said, his voice unhurried but his face clearly eager to shift some of the blame off of Adam. Maura shot a cool look in his direction.

“He-said, she-said, that doesn’t matter. The press thinks and we can’t change their mind, we can only prove them wrong.” She held out a hand again, and with a sigh Blue acquiesced a new, thick file. Maura dropped it in front of Adam like a hot potato. “Here’s damage control. This rivalry with the prince of England ends now.”

“It’s not a-”

“Rivalry, we know,” his mother interrupted wryly. The tone was odd from her president-mode self, her wayward curls tamed into a perfect ponytail and her face made up instead of the more casual expression she normally had when joking. “But, sugar, if it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck, it’s probably a duck. You can call it whatever you like, but it’s always gonna be seen as a rivalry.”

Adam sat silently, flipping through a section entitled TERMS OF AGREEMENT. Maura continued. “You’re flying to England on Saturday and spending the weekend with Ronan.”

It took a moment for the words to sink in, but once they did he couldn’t stop thinking of them. Dread settled just below the surface of Adam’s skin. He looked at his mother. “I’d prefer to fake my death, actually. Or just really die. I know Calla would be willing to help with either, and Persephone is good with that stuff, right? Death of a son should boost your polling. The voters love a sympathetic case.”

“Don’t tempt me,” she warned. She looked to her watch with a heavy sigh and leaned over to kiss him on the head. “I’m too overscheduled for this. Adam, listen to Maura and don’t ignore her plan. You two,” she gestured vaguely at Blue and Gansey, “Make sure he doesn’t do anything irrational while we’re wrapped up.”

Blue lazily saluted while Gansey nodded reassuringly. With one last glance at Adam, Ana was gone, her heels clicking away from the heavy doors. She slipped away from being Ana Parrish, Adam’s mother punishing him for stupid behavior, to become President Parrish, leader of the country. Adam envied her compartmentalization.

Maura leaned over the table, flipping pages in the file. “We’re releasing this statement in conjunction with the Crown as soon as they approve. It was an accident, no harm was intended, all that jazz-”

Adam lifted one eyebrow. “So the truth?”

“Call it what you’d like. And we’re clarifying that you and Prince Ronan have been close personal friendships for several years despite conflicts in schedule making it difficult to appear publicly.”

Blue laughed out loud at that, clamping one hand over her mouth. Maura didn’t even look over to her, but Adam’s expression must have been similarly dumbfounded because she sighed resignedly, taking another sip of coffee. “Look, it’s better for all sides if your tussle just looks like some...frat boy joshing.” Blue’s laughs crescendoed louder, and Maura shot her a cool look. “If you need to step out, please feel free to, Blue. I’m sure Gansey will fill you in later.” Adam looked to Blue and her wave of dismissal, gripping onto the wrist of Gansey’s blazer to steady herself. Maura turned back to Adam.

“I know he’s difficult. You can hate him for all I care. In privacy, feel free to construct intricate arguments for his removal from this earth. Fantasize about dumping yogurt on his head. Compose songs to drive him insane. But, for the love of God, you will act like he hung the moon with nothing but yarn and a sewing needle whenever there’s the slimmest possibility of a camera or another living being witnessing it. Kapeesh?”

It wasn’t like he was allowed any true reaction, but he nodded all the same. His powerlessness was because of his own actions, not Maura. It was his own fault, and he would own up to the consequences. Even if the thought of willingly spending time with Ronan made his stomach turn.

“Your job is to not piss anyone off and to gush about Ronan. You’ll memorize this fact sheet-” she slid another page from the file and tapped it, “-and be prepared to answer any question with these as an answer. Your deal includes a minimum of two social media posts a day about Ronan and your visit. On Sunday, you have an on-air interview with ITV This Morning, and you’ll be fresh as a daisy with nothing but sunshine to say about Ronan’s competitive yachting hobby. There are only two photo ops, one in private where you can bitch and one charity appearance. That’s it, you’re free.”

Adam opened his mouth.

“Don’t care,” Maura said before Adam could make a noise. “You ruined the Royal Wedding and a cake that’s worth a year of college tuition. He’ll attend a state dinner in a few months for his part, and you will pay your penance now.”

Adam nodded slowly. He gathered the file in his hands along with all the decorum Gansey taught him over the years. He smiled a small smile at Maura. “Well, it will be an experience, won’t it?”

“I’d expect it, yes.”

“Thank you, Maura. And I’m sorry.”

She waved her hand. “Don’t apologize. Your apology will be not screwing this up even more.”

“I’ll try.”

Adam rose, Blue and Gansey following his lead. As he turned to walk away, Maura spoke again. “Oh, and Adam?”

“Yes?”

The corners of her eyes crinkled, and she looked younger, somehow. Almost amused. Guilt panged in his chest at the thought that he’d caused the tiredness on her face before. “Try to have a little fun. It’s a trip to Europe and you’re not even missing class.”

He paused, thinking of Ronan and his shaved head and cruel smile in front of the wedding cake. He tried to imagine what fun might be for him - whether to trust the fact sheet proclaiming fencing and yachting as Ronan’s pastimes or the tabloids that traded stories of illegal drag racing and getting black-out drunk. He wasn’t sure which version of Ronan sounded worse. “Sure,” he agreed quietly. “I will.”

***

Those who work in the White House know a few things about the First Family’s habits, but they never know the full truth.

They can observe things the average citizen would die to know; they see staffers pacing the halls and tearing their hair out over Instagram captions, overhear expletive-laden and fond familial conversations, and occasionally see the pristine members of the executive branch with dark crescents burning under their eyes and old high-school sweatshirts adorned like the newest fashion. But none were more elusive and two-sided than the White House Trio.

In their case, two-sided didn’t necessarily mean something bad, only something drastic. Blue Sargent, Richard Gansey, and Adam Parrish presented the perfect dynamic for the press to eat up: three attractive early twenty-somethings inside the White House who were notoriously open to the public about their lives. There were veneers crafted and stories concocted every day, all designed to get the perfect media response without sharing too much. There was Blue, the Indigenous American daughter of a single mother and prominent staffer, barely five feet tall but laser-sharp with any numbers you threw at her; there was Richard Campbell Gansey III, better known as the single-named Gansey who came from the billions that funded the Vice-Presidency but wanted nothing more than to give it all away, always ready with his winning charm and a new polo shirt to distract the press from his scathing op-eds; and there was Adam Parrish, a true American Dream born from a father from the Heartland and a mother from Mexican immigrants, a single First Son set to graduate valedictorian from Georgetown amid a political campaign with an ease most of the country only wished to possess.

Together, they hit every demographic that they could without even trying too hard. Their progressive politics were helped along by their identities, and so they aided their parents by nature of existing within the White House walls. White House staff saw these versions of them, but only glimpses of what lay beneath - Blue wandering the halls in self-created shirts and dresses with stacks of newspapers clutched in her arms, the scent of mint clinging to Gansey everywhere he went at all hours of the day, Adam’s frequent requests for coffee at midnight and propensity to wear coca-cola tee shirts.

They all knew very well that no one really saw the full picture of them, but that was how the White House Trio liked it.

The three of them spread out in the music room, one of their only haunts where they could be truly alone. For once, they weren’t a marketing ploy of their own creation or a group of kids on a pedestal; they were just Blue, Gansey, and Adam. After that meeting, they had to be.

Adam sprawled on the couch, laying exactly horizontal, flipping over the HRH fact sheet.

“You’re on the cover of Us Weekly, Blue,” Gansey called across the room, undoubtedly fulfilling his guilty-pleasure hobby of obsessively tracking their tabloids. “Full portrait of your Royal Wedding outfit.”

“It’s about time,” she responded from her perch on the windowsill, a bottle of red wine and a bottle opener in her hands. “I wore that lace to catch attention, thank you very much. It’s been at least four months since a solo cover.”

“Well, they do mention the cake-tastrophe in the corner.”

Blue waved her hand dismissively. “That was bound to happen. Scandal sells, but so do I.”

“Okay, ew,” Adam said flatly.

“They’re speculating about you two again, you know.” Gansey scrolled to a new part of the magazine, lifting a thumb to rub against his lower lip. “‘Tryst with a mystery brunette: Heartthrob First Son Adam Parrish caught sneaking back to the W hotel for an amorous rendezvous in the Presidential Suite. Sources say the brunette is none other than Blue Sargent, the twenty-two-year-old member of the White House Trio.’”

“Less than a month!” Blue exclaimed, popping the wine open. “You owe me, Gansey. Pay up.”

He ignored her, dropping the hand from his face. “You didn’t really…”

Neither Adam nor Blue responded. Gansey knew very well that their short-lived relationship on the campaign trail was due to die a quick death, but something - perhaps the lingering stares he seemed to throw Blue more and more often - was making him touchier to the subject of their former relationship. Of course, Adam and Blue did nothing of the sort, only watched the West Wing and made sex noises at young Rob Lowe with a bottle of champagne passed between them. Confusing the tabloids was an added bonus to their game. Blue took a swig directly from the bottle of red.

“You’d think they’d be talking more about your spat with Ronan than your possible sex life,” Gansey said, returning his focus to Adam. Adam finally looked away from the HRH fact sheet and towards Gansey’s squinting eyes. He really needed to put his glasses on, but far be it from Adam to mother Gansey. It had to be the other way around.

“No one cares about what happens over the pond.”

“Don’t they?” Blue said, scrunching her nose in a similar fashion to Gansey. “They seem to follow the royals pretty well. Tabloids were in a tizzy over the Prince’s lack of date.”

“In a tizzy,” Adam mocked. From where she sat on the floor, Blue stretched her short frame as far as possible to nudge Adam’s leg with the toe of her socked foot. “Why does anyone care? It’s not like he’s, you know, interesting.”

Blue and Gansey were staring again, he could tell. “Adam, honey,” Blue started, her southern accent heavy and thick. Gansey reached for the bottle and she relinquished it easily. “I know you hate him, but he’s probably the most interesting royal out there.”

“Wasn’t he caught in a club with his underage brother right after their father died?” Gansey asked, taking a prim sip from the bottle of wine.

“Apparently has a huge sucker of a tattoo on his back, too.”

“Isn’t that against royal etiquette or some shit?”

“Probably.”

Adam waved the fact sheet around, spinning himself so that his head hung off the edge of the couch. “Explain this, then. He’s more wonder-bread than Gansey, and that’s saying something.” Blue spluttered out a laugh, and Adam slung an upside-down apologetic glance at Gansey. “Sorry, man. No offense.”

“None taken,” Gansey said, reaching for the fact sheet and plucking it from Adam’s grasp. “What’s wrong with these? Charles Dickens as a favorite author? What do you have against Charles Dickens?”

Adam and Blue exchanged a glance. “Nothing in theory. It’s just a bunch of garbage I don’t need in my brain.”

Blue snorted. “No thoughts, brain full of GDP calculations.”

“You know I just finished my macroeconomics midterm.”

“That’s the point,” Blue said, snatching the bottle back from Gansey and peeking at the sheet. Her nose scrunched again, squinting her eyes as she always did when drinking. “Mutton pie? Who loves mutton pie?”

“It’s a very versatile meal,” Gansey defended.

“I mean, sure, these are boring as hell,” Blue conceded, ignoring Gansey’s scandalized look. “But this is clearly slapped together by his PR team to make him look like the perfect prince.”

“So?” Adam said, unimpressed.

“It’s not a reason to hate him.”

“Oh, I know. I hate him anyway. But I have better use for my brain space than facts about His Royal Dick.”

“That just sounds like you’re talking about Gansey.”

“To be fair, Adam,” Gansey said, “it’s your fault. You fought him.”

“What happened anyway?” Blue asked. He knew the question was coming, but all the same, he didn’t want to answer. “He was fine when I danced with him.”

“Fine,” Adam said curtly. “Cold and severe sounds more like it.”

Blue’s eyes scanned over him with an uncanny feeling she could see into his thoughts. “So you were...defending me? God, please don’t blame me for this.”

“That’s actually kind of nice, Parrish.”

“No,” Blue interrupted, a hard edge to her voice.. “Not if he does stupid shit because of it. I’m perfectly fine on my own.”

“I know!” Adam rushed to say. “Believe me, I know. It was…” he withered under her look. “...An excuse?”

“Look at me,” Blue said, voice firm. He did. Her lips were thinned with seriousness. “Don’t protect my honor again, please. It’s a weird-ass fishbowl world we live in, but if you do, I will leak to the press that your favorite song is Africa by Toto.”

“Please do,” Adam said, scoffing. “It’s a bop.”

“And do you want it dogging your every step?”

“Maybe I do.”

Blue shrugged. “Your funeral.”

“This is quite Shakespearean,” Gansey said, most likely in hopes of interrupting their budding argument. He gestured grandly to the gaudy tapestry-ridden walls and golden tassels on the furniture, although Adam imagined that Gansey thought it would look more impressive in his head. “Two sworn enemies forced into friendship for the sake of tension between their countries.”

“We’re not enemies,” Adam said. “That implies we’re...on the same level. Have actually spoken.”

“Exactly. Shakespearean.”

“Then let’s hope I get stabbed at the end of this. Blue, will you do the honors? I know you’ll do it mercifully.”

“Oh, cheer up now,” Blue said in a false British coo. “You’ll be the darling of England before Sunday even rolls around.”

“What does it matter?” Adam said, not lifting his gaze from the fact sheet. “They just think I’m another violent American over there.”

He could feel the weight of Blue and Gansey’s stares above his head. No one needed to say the words themselves to invoke the double-wide of Adam’s earliest years, where blood covered most of the carpet. “They don’t mean it like that, Adam,” Gansey said finally, breaking some of the tension with his reverberating voice. “They mean it like… UFC fighters, or rioting after the Patriots lose the Super bowl. Or win.” Gansey’s frown deepened. “I can never figure out how they’re doing.”

“Yeah, I know,” Adam said, lips twisted downwards. He regretted bringing it up. “I know.”

Blue nudged him again with her foot. “Want to watch Parks and Rec and make fun of the Prince’s fact cheat-sheet?”

“God, yes.”

She snatched the sheet from Gansey, reading it over again. “Drinking game: drink whenever Prince Ronan’s interests are laughably terrible.”

“Counter-offer: drink whenever Adam overreacts to his interests.” Gansey offered. Blue passed him the bottle to reach for her laptop instead.

“Either way, we’re getting alcohol poisoning.”

“Oh, definitely.”

“We’ll quiz you,” Gansey offered Adam, just as Blue pulled up an episode of Parks and Rec. “Not season seven, Sargent, what the hell are you thinking?”

“Season seven can be great!” Off of Gansey’s glare, Blue complied, clearly not wanting the fight. “Fine. Season three?”

“Now you’re talking.”

Blue balanced her laptop on an old piano bench and joined their huddle near the couch, beckoning the bottle back.

“Alright,” Gansey began, eyes settled on the top of the sheet. “You better be ready to learn something, Parrish.”

***

None of them succumbed to alcohol poisoning, but they did learn several facts about Prince Ronan.

There was the basic information, things Adam knew already: his mother, Queen Aurora, took the throne with a dreamy demeanor and high hopes at the age of 19 after her parent’s untimely death and her twin sister’s abdication. The year before, she married Niall Lynch, an Irish actor, and practically upset the whole place. Niall died in 2015, not too long before the Rio Olympics, and Aurora’s public appearances had dwindled ever since, leaving the press to have a field day with rumors of illness and mental breakdowns. Ronan had a raven (why, Adam could not fathom) named, of all things, Chainsaw. His best friend, Henry Cheng, was heir to Cheng Industries and managed their charity branch.

Gansey actually knew both Cheng and Ronan, having spent a year at Eton in high school, and Adam just rolled his eyes at Ganey’s relentless knowledge of every human person.

His music tastes were listed as baroque, death metal, and Irish jigs, a combination that left Blue wheezing. “His Royal Highness may be my new favorite person,” she insisted, leaving Adam scowling.

The week came and went, and Adam found himself on a private tarmac following a trans-Atlantic flight with a man in an impeccably pressed suit and a cup of tea nestled into his hands. Calla, one of Blue’s pseudo-aunts and a secret service agent accompanying him, pressed forward to shake his hand and exchange a few words under her breath with him. He almost pitied the man. Calla, with her high bun of perfectly-contained curls and steely gaze, oozed intimidation out of her very being. But to his surprise, Calla actually smiled at the mystery man. She wasn’t quite warm, but he received considerably kinder treatment than everyone else subject to Calla’s jurisdiction. When she stepped back, the man turned his gray eyes on Adam. He smiled without any mirth.

“Mr. Parrish,” the man said, reaching out his free hand. Adam shook it, trying to keep it short and firm as his mother taught him. “It’s a pleasure to have you with us in England. I’m Mr. Gray, Prince Ronan’s equerry.”

“It’s very nice to meet you. I apologize for the turn of events that led to this weekend.”

“Well,” Mr. Gray said, turning and beckoning Adam to an Aston Martin with blacked-out windows, “once you reach my age, Mr. Parrish, you’ll find that these matters are quite simple to see coming.” Adam barely had a chance to blink in response before he was sliding into the back seat of the car, the rumbling of the tarmac shut out succinctly with the door’s closure. A lull in conversation settled around them; Adam, after clicking his seatbelt in, favored looking out the window to London’s scenery over making conversation. The blur of grey and white passed for a few minutes before Mr. Gray finally informed him of his role.

“There are a few matters of paperwork to go over before entering Kensington Palace. They’re currently next to you, and signing them is of highest priority before we begin this weekend.” Adam was no stranger to non-disclosure agreements and confidentiality paperwork; he’d expected the practically novel-length stack. By the time he’d finished signing on all the correct lines, the car slowed to a crawl. “Prince Ronan has just finished his tennis practice, and we’re here to escort him to our first activity.”

“Splendid,” Adam whispered under his breath, unconsciously mimicking Mr. Gray's crisp voice.

The English countryside hit Adam full in the face as soon as he stepped from the car; fresh air, the kind you never find in DC, welcomed him like an old friend, and though the English air was nothing like the air he remembered growing up with in Virginia, it felt nostalgic all the same. He suddenly wanted to be back there, in the home he remembered so well. He wanted to be anywhere but England with the goddamn Prince of Wales loping his way towards him in an all-white outfit, a racket swinging in his hand.

Jesus, how pretentious could he be?

Annoyingly, Ronan was not sweating and not fatigued looking in the slightest. He actually looked incredibly refreshed, the harsh lines of his face softened and a flush under his cheeks, his blue eyes charged and alight. Looking into them, Adam felt startlingly as though he was staring out at the horizon on a cloudless day.

“Parrish,” Ronan called, jogging the remaining distance quickly and closing the gap between them. “You've found the directions, I can see.”

“It’s difficult to miss,” Adam replied tightly, holding out a hand for Ronan to shake. “Extensive wealth tends to smell for miles around.”

Ronan took his hand, and his smoothed palm slid uncomfortably against Adam’s calloused hand. An unpleasant jolt started in his stomach. Ronan affixed his same unkind but not terrifying smile to his face, looking ridiculously like Declan for a moment, before continuing their conversation. Both knew to disconnect their words from their faces, conscious of the photographer unsubtly circling them. “It’s a rather pleasant odor, yes? I prefer it to fried food and pollution.”

“London, known for its fresh air, right?” Adam laughed, the charming laugh that beguiled TV hosts and entranced his mother’s constituents. “Excited for the days ahead?”

“I’d rather lie on the NASCAR racetrack, or even concede an argument.”

Adam slipped his palm from Ronan’s, choosing instead to slap him jovially on the arm. “I never thought I’d see the day where we agree on something, Your Highness.”

“Fuck off,” Ronan said, the words slipping through his unkind but certainly camera-friendly smile with practiced ease, and oh, there was the difference between this weekend and all their other interactions: Adam couldn’t speak of their interactions at all, locked behind an NDA. Ronan could swear as much as he pleased and not face retribution from his family.

“Gladly,” he replied through gritted teeth.

“The car is ready if you’re ready, then,” Mr. Gray said from behind Adam.

“Perfect,” Ronan said, any hint of his bleached teeth disappearing. “The sooner this is over with, the better.”

And they set off, side by side, for the car.

[chatonne-rousse]

The Pole Kit and Kaboodle

Written for @smutember, Day 3: Striptease

@tsuki-chibi, I owe you one for all your encouragement and the great ideas you provided.  You’re the best!  ♥

This can also be read on Ao3.

They break apart for air, heaving breaths amplified in the silence of Adrien’s cavernous bedroom. Marinette’s hands still clutch at his back beneath his t-shirt; he lowers his head to her bare shoulder and sucks a possessive mark into her skin.

Her sundress is long gone, unbuttoned an hour ago by eager yet careful hands and parted reverently to reveal the lacy bra that now hangs from one shoulder.

Lips and tongue and teeth explore that same shoulder now, claiming every inch of skin up, up the curve of her neck and oh! The jolt of arousal that zings down her spine has her hips pressed to his of their own accord, while he soothes the spot his teeth have just nipped.

“You like that, Mari?” He purrs, huffing a pleased laugh against her skin before dipping back down to do it all over again just behind her ear.

She can practically hear the smug grin in his voice, but imagining it on Adrien’s sweet face seems wrong somehow. It’s a look more suited to a certain black cat, whom Marinette has no intention of thinking about while her boyfriend tugs her bra strap further down her arm and follows its path with kisses.

This is wonderful, of course, and her senses sing with delight at the smell of his shampoo, the taste of his minty lip balm still on her tongue, the delicious weight of his body between her legs and his soft skin beneath her fingertips. But when her bare thighs rub against his jeans as her hips search for more friction, it’s not difficult to notice the disparity in their states of undress.

He’s just freed her breast from its confines when she decides they need to even the score a bit.

Her hands glide whisper-soft down the plane of his back, and she’s gratified by the surprised gasp she hears (and feels) at her chest. She takes a quick detour just below the waistband of his jeans to feel the warm skin and tight muscles there before grabbing his t-shirt hem and starting to pull it up so it can join her dress on the coffee table.

It’s a shame he has to pause the magic his tongue is working right now, but the sacrifice will be worth it when she can feel their bodies pressed skin to skin, a pleasure she’d imagined in fantasy but still hasn’t gotten used to the wonder of in real life.

When he realizes what she’s trying to do, he makes a noise of disapproval against her skin before quickly sitting up and tugging his t-shirt back down.

It happens so fast that Marinette is left wide-eyed in surprise, the cool of the room making her still-wet nipple harden further.

This does not go unnoticed.

“I’ll be back for you,” Adrien reassures her bare breast, pointing a finger at it, “And I haven’t forgotten you,” he reminds the other, still tucked behind lace.

It’s one of the most ridiculous things she’s ever witnessed in her life, and she can’t stop the bark of laughter that bubbles up in her chest, cutting through the sting of his sudden retreat.

She quirks an eyebrow and gestures between them. “I'm feeling underdressed. Care to even things out?”

“Uh uh uh,” he sings, wagging his index finger dramatically like a ticking metronome. At the confused furrow in her brow, he deflates a little, his hand moving instead to the back of his neck.

“I, um, had an idea,” he says sheepishly.

“O…kay?”

His answering grin is pure elation, his playful swagger returning as he leaps from the sofa.

“I think you’ll love it!” She hears him call from the vicinity of his desk.

Her heart swells, her smile returns.

Oh, this boy.

She pulls her wayward bra strap back up onto her shoulder and resituates everything comfortably. Whatever he has planned will probably lead them back to the sofa - or the bed, or his desk, or the skate ramp - and her underwear will be added to the clothing pile in a few minutes anyway. At least, she hopes so.

Intimacy isn’t brand-new for them, but it’s still as thrilling as it was those first few times they’d explored each other’s bodies and discovered just how euphoric it could be to fall apart against the fingers and tongue of another, turning love into something tangible by way of racing hearts and trembling hands. Alone time in the quiet of her loft was eclipsed forever the first time she saw his climax cross his face at the same moment she felt it inside.

They’re still clumsy sometimes, still learning about sex and each other, but the shine hasn’t worn off yet, and she hopes it never does.

Peeking over the sofa, she finds him holding his desk lamp in one hand and scrolling frantically through his phone with the other. She smiles to herself when his face lights up upon finding what he was looking for. He lifts his head and finds her watching him, his eyes going soft with adoration at the same time his lips quirk in a sly grin.

Seriously. This boy.

He pushes the foosball table toward the corner with his hip before tucking the base of the lamp between the rows of players and setting his phone on the turf beneath their feet.

Looking around for a nearby plug, he has to push the table back in the other direction until he can find a spot the cord will reach. He finally switches on the lamp and maneuvers the adjustable neck to create his own spotlight as Marinette watches with amusement as the scene unfolds. That is, until he fumbles it and shines the bright light directly into her eyes.

She shrieks and hears him curse before running over to her.

“Shit!” he mutters again, placing a finger under her chin and tilting her face toward his. “I’m so sorry, Marinette.”

It takes a few blinks to clear the blinding spots from her eyes, but the relief in his gaze is a sweet consolation once her vision clears. She rises just enough from the sofa to press her lips to his and delights in his sigh against her cheek.

“I’m fine, Adrien,” she assures him as she settles into the sofa, tucking her legs beneath her and propping her elbow on the back cushion. She shoots him a cheeky wink. “You certainly have my attention.”

His lips quirk in a crooked smile and he rubs the back of his neck as he returns to the foosball table, reaching down and pressing play on the song he’d chosen earlier. A slow and sultry melody begins as he takes his place and strikes a pose that makes her giggle.

“Are you ready, Mari?” He asks with an eyebrow wiggle.

“You have the floor. Seduce me, beau gosse.”

His cheeks pinken but he catches the rhythm of the song’s intro and starts to sway his hips with the music. A moment later, he bends down to quickly untie his shoes, still punctuating each beat with a shake of his behind, even as he struggles with the laces.

Marinette bites the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing, thankfully keeping the warm smile on her face when he pops back up to meet her gaze again.

He shucks one shoe, which she watches sail toward his desk before landing with a thunk. The other shoe is kicked off just as the words to the song begin, but neither of them pay attention to the English lyrics as they watch the orange plimsoll head straight for the television. It clips the top edge before tumbling to the floor behind, leaving the giant television rocking precariously for several long, long moments until it finally settles back in place, unharmed.

Crisis averted, Adrien continues unfazed.

His socks are quickly discarded, mercifully without incident.

Next comes his t-shirt, which Marinette doesn’t think will be any trouble since she’s watched him tug it over his head by the back of the collar numerous times in their haste to undress and come together again.

She is wrong.

In the momentary struggle to remove his shirt from where it’s somehow become stuck on his head, Marinette is treated to the sight of his very, very chiseled abs, muscles rippling as he flails his arms above his head. She’s always wondered how on earth he got so ripped - when does he have the time? - but she’s definitely not complaining.

Finally free, Adrien gleefully throws the shirt to his solo audience member, who catches it with a laugh and clutches it to her chest like the prize that it is.

This striptease is proving two facts she already knew: One, he is an absolute doofus, and two, she loves him beyond measure.

Refocusing on her beloved doofus while shamelessly inhaling the familiar scent of his t-shirt, she watches him begin to unbuckle his belt and feels a little fluttery all of a sudden.

When a few sweet kisses while watching an anime an hour ago had led to roaming hands and discarded clothing and his body pressing hers into the sofa, the destination was clear. However, the entertaining detour of the last few minutes got her sidetracked. Suddenly, the clink of his buckle has her very much looking forward to the removal of those last few articles of clothing.

Buckle undone, hips still swaying languidly with the beat, he takes a moment to unbutton and unzip his jeans before whipping his belt from its loops with a flourish.

Just as the singer croons, “Throw your clothes on the floor,” Adrien’s jeans fall to the hardwood.

Marinette’s jaw is clenched, lips pressed tightly together, practically vibrating with her attempt to keep from laughing.

Undeterred, he steps from his jeans to the tune of “I’m gonna take my clothes off, too” and promptly trips, falling toward the armrest of the sofa and just barely catching himself with one hand instead of his handsome face, though his knees hit the floor with a heavy thump.

Marinette jumps up, nerves alive with adrenaline and worry, and rushes around the sofa toward him.

“Oh my god, Adrien! Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

He’s clearly mortified, blushing from the tips of his ears to the top of his chest.

“No, no, I’m fine,” he hastily assures her as he gets to his feet again and kicks his traitorous jeans under the foosball table, sending a withering glare in their direction.

Marinette perches on the sofa again, but she’s still wound tightly after watching him fall.

The song nears its end, trailing off in a medley of warbling voices. After a pause, the slow and sexy intro builds again as the song repeats.

Adrien matches the rhythm with his hips once more, now clad in only black boxer briefs, and dance-walks to the fireman’s pole.

"No..." she whispers under her breath.

"Yes!" he sings, drawing out the vowel on a long, dramatic vibrato.

He grabs the pole with one hand and leans away, letting gravity take over as he spins once, then twice around it.

In the next moment, he's shimmying to the top, only his bare feet visible beneath the mezzanine floor. Suddenly, his upper body drops through upside-down, his head missing the metal by inches. Right knee wrapped around the pole, his right hand grips loosely as he slides slowly toward the floor.

The look of sheer joy on his face is contagious. Marinette squeals with laughter and applauds his showmanship when he unhooks his knee and flips to the floor, throwing his arms in the air like an Olympic gymnast who's just landed a perfect dismount.

Clearly soaking up her approval, Adrien spins lazily around the pole, this time locked around it by the crook of his elbow.

Soon he scrambles up the pole again, calling down to her, "Hey, Marinette! I'm Père Noël!"

When he pops up against the mezzanine railing, he finds her face looking up at him scrunched in confusion.

"I'm at the North Pole!"

"Boo!" she heckles, rolling her eyes. "Two out of ten. You can do better."

He's still laughing on his next descent, this time going for a "Look Mari, no hands!" approach. He leans his entire body away from the pole and slides down on one hooked knee, using the core strength that must be hidden in those sculpted abs she enjoys so much to keep his torso nearly perpendicular to the pole.

Now, that's at least relatively impressive.

Marinette whistles her appreciation, judiciously ignoring his crash landing.

"Bravo, bravo!" She blows him a flurry of kisses as he bows. "You make a great case for why every child should grow up with a stripper pole in their bedroom."

His face falls into an indignant pout. "It's a fireman's pole and you know it," he huffs.

She waves her hand. "Semantics."

This is quickly devolving into a nearly-nude comedy routine punctuated by feats of strength and agility, but the sultry music still plays in the background, the song now entering its third encore.

Adrien shakes his head at his girlfriend in mock solemnity.

"I should've known you weren't ready for the pole shebang."

She bites back the immediate and obvious retort that comes to mind on a wave of red and black and green déjà vu. There's no way she's heard that awful joke before...right?

Marinette shakes the thought of her superhero partner from her mind and focuses instead on watching - okay, appreciating - Adrien's delicious backside when he bends forward and grips the pole with both hands. Although this current view of a muscled back, strong thighs, and black-clad ass that could've been carved from marble by a Renaissance master is eerily reminiscent of her longtime partner, she is absolutely not thinking about Chat Noir right now.

No. Way.

Except she is. She can't help it.

Because when Adrien hops from the floor and uses the strength in his upper arms to hold himself upside down, knee hooking around the pole, she knows she's seen this before.

Long ago, on a dark rooftop in La Défense, high above the city, two teenage superheroes out way past their bedtime talked and laughed and ate day-old pastries, sharing a thermos of hot tea.

"Hey, Bugaboo! Watch this!"

Famous last words, she thinks, giving him an amused half-smile and shaking her head at the disaster that's certainly to come. He's such a try-hard. Such a dork. No one could be a better partner than he is.

Chat Noir walks to a spot beneath an air duct that crosses the roof about fifteen feet overhead. He presses the button on his baton, and it creates a vertical tension rod between the ground and the metal above. He tests its sturdiness before cracking his knuckles and grinning at his partner.

It's almost impressive, watching him climb upward using only his hands and his Miraculous-granted strength, back and legs perfectly parallel to the pole until he gets to the top and slides back down in a curving arc to the roof below.

Ladybug claps politely when he bows but can't hide her grin.

"Well, what else can you do, Acrochat?"

"Ha! Good one, My Lady! Prepare to be amazed." He claps once to psych himself up before taking to the pole again, this time holding on with only one hand as he kicks out from the ground in a spin, whirling around the pole like a superpowered human tetherball. He catches the pole with his other hand after a few rotations and uses the momentum to bring his legs up over his head to hook one knee around the pole. Dangling upside-down, he spreads his arms wide with exuberance.

She giggles at his antics and claps again, this time adding a little cheer for good measure. It was a pretty cool trick, after all.

"That, Bugaboo," he says cockily, shooting her upside-down finger guns, "is the pole kit and kaboodle."

Ladybug rolls her eyes and groans. "That was bad, even for you, Minou."

She wonders how he'll get down from that position, but isn't left wondering for long. He grips the pole with both hands close to the roof above his head. This looks...precarious. When he unhooks his knee, he tries to hold himself up with his arms, but gravity is too strong for even a superhero sometimes.

He flops to the ground, then konks his elbow on the baton when he tries to stand up. He shakes out the tingles and grabs his staff with his other hand, shrinking it to its stowable size.

Howling with laughter, Ladybug whips her yo-yo from her waist and opens the communicator, typing the number 10 in a large font on the screen. When he turns to face her, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck, she holds it up high, hollering, "Woohoo!"

The true, celestial stars really aren't visible above major metropolitan cities like Paris. But tonight, Ladybug sees them in her partner's eyes as he laughs along with her. Moments like this with your very best friend don't come along every day, especially for two 16-year-old superheroes carrying the weight of the world.

"You might want to practice that dismount, Chaton," she wheezes.

"You know what, My Lady? I think I can do that."

It's a precious memory, and Marinette is reliving it right now.

Adrien's knee is hooked around the fireman's pole that's inexplicably part of the decor of his bedroom and not a superhero's baton wedged beneath a commercial air duct. But it doesn't matter. The sheer joy on his face, the way he spreads his arms wide and gazes at her upside-down - it's Chat Noir through and through. She didn’t know it two minutes ago, but she knows it now with an ironclad certainty.

And she knows exactly what he'll say next.

"That, my love," he declares, finger guns and all, "is the pole kit and kaboodle."

Marinette laughs because there's nothing else she can do.

When he grasps the pole above his head to prepare the dismount, Marinette reaches for her phone on the coffee table and opens the text app. This time, he lands on his feet, though he still konks his elbow on the pole as he stands up.

"Why does that always happen?" He mutters under his breath as he shakes the tingles out of his arm.

Adrien turns toward the sofa but stops in his tracks when she holds up her phone, a large-font perfect 10 lighting up the screen.

"You might want to practice that dismount, Chaton," she says softly, voice trembling with both nerves and the hysterical laughter she can barely suppress. "You did better than last time, though."

She watches the emotions cross his face one at a time - surprise, confusion, shock, and a dawning incredulity - before he looks from her eyes to her phone and back again.

"My...Lady?"

She nods, wide-eyed, blushing, her pulse roaring in her ears. There's no way this is happening. There's no way she's sitting on Chat Noir's sofa in her bra and panties.

Adrien stares at the floor and rubs the back of his neck. (Of course he does. In all these years, how did she not see it? How did she not see it in every little thing he did?)

"I..." he trails off, taking a deep breath. "I forced myself to get over you...because I'd fallen in love with you."

Marinette nods again.

"And I turned you down over and over because I was in love with you."

Forget him talking to her chest. This exchange is the most ridiculous thing she's ever witnessed in her life. Wild laughter bursts from her again unbidden, and this time she can't stop.

Hundreds of moments and memories of the past five years crash over her, friendship and love and heroic duty, anguish and joy and everything in between. Four separate lives become two before blending into one incredible relationship.

Holy shit.

She’s been dating Chat Noir for more than a year. She’s been sleeping with Chat Noir for six months! She is, in fact, intending to have sex with Chat Noir in approximately the next ten minutes.

She’s...truly, wildly, deeply in love with Chat Noir.

Of course she is. Of course.

Tears spring to her eyes even as she laughs herself toward hyperventilation.

Adrien - Chat Noir! - kneels on the floor in front of the sofa, his beautiful features painted with worry, and takes her shaking hands in his.

“My Lady? Marinette? Talk to me, please. Are you--?”

“I’m fine,” she manages to croak. “I promise.”

Several deep breaths later, she’s almost gotten herself under control. Her pulse is racing, but that’s probably not going to settle for quite a while, especially if he’s still amenable to what she’s now nearly-desperate to do in the next few minutes.

The relief in his eyes when she smiles and reaches out to caress his cheek makes her heart ache.

“I love you so much,” she whispers. The words are spoken without thought, as though they’ve come straight from her heart and bypassed her brain entirely, but the statement shines with the same truth it held the first time she said it to him and every time since.

“Still?” He asks quietly.

Oh, Minou.

“More,” she answers. “Always.”

He surges up on his knees, wrapping her in his arms and pressing his lips to hers in a kiss so full of passion it sends a shiver down her spine.

Marinette responds in kind, willing him to feel every bit of love she has for him, no matter what name he goes by.

This is beyond her imagination, and she'll undoubtedly freak out about it later, but right now, in Adrien's arms, it's shockingly easy to slot the two together, her partner and the love of her life. Of course they'd been in love with each other all this time. They're meant to be partners in every facet of life, it seems.

There is a very important discussion in their future, but it's already waited five years, and it can wait until they show each other exactly how much they love one another. Moments like these don't come along every day, especially for two young adults in love, who also happen to carry the weight of the world on their shoulders.

The blissful, lovestruck look on his face as he enters her is stamped on her memory anew each time they find themselves entwined like this. It’s so beautiful, and only, ever, always for her. Tonight when he fills her and she gasps, “Yes, Chaton!” against his lips - oh, his expression is priceless.

From the other side of the room, Boys II Men quietly sing “I’ll Make Love to You” on an endless loop. And Marinette delights in letting Adrien do just that.

[voidendron]

The Outside: Chapter 64

Series Ask Blog: @asktheoutside

Chapter 64: Coffee Chapter Warnings: Swearing Characters: Chase Brody, Bingiplier, Google Oliver POV: Chase Brody

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

April 30, 2031, 10:03 AM Los Angeles, California

Eyes pinned on the television, Chase thrummed his fingers over his knee. Jim was on. He was talking about the ongoing investigation of the murder of Jay Ross. The Septic had to admit: Jim’s poker face was flawless. Damn. He knew exactly who’d killed the guy and there he was deadpan at the camera, acting oblivious to anything but the information in front of him.

“Today marks one month since the murder. Detective Jesse Clarke has been leading the investigation,” Jim stated into the camera. “He was available today, so we’ll hand the show over to Melissa for an interview.”

The screen cut to an alleyway. There was police tape behind the on-camera pair, but the crime scene looked empty aside from them.

Clarke was a severe-looking man; it didn’t appear that he’d smiled a day in his life. His gray eyes were harsh and tone clipped. Even the interviewer looked fed up with him the longer the questions went on. What he said wasn’t really rude. He kept things to the point but was patient and explained when the need arose. But his tone and expression paired with his words really gave mixed signals. Like he’d trained for interviews and had a surprising level of patience, but would really rather be somewhere else had he the option.

“Happy dude,” Bing snorted.

Chase jolted at the voice. “Jesus, man. When did you wake up?”

“Mm…few minutes ago?” He detached his charger, then folded his arms behind his head. “Anything amazing happen while I charged?” He nudged Chase’s shoulder with his boot.

“You gotta keep your shoes off the couch, man.” A roll of the eyes and he pushed the android’s foot away. “Not really. I don’t get how Jim stays so straight-faced when he talks about the investigation, though. Like, seriously!” He threw his hands up. “The Twins are giggly bitches, and look at him!” He waved at the screen, then blinked.

Bing laughed. “Uh. Hate to break it to ya, but that’s not Jim.” No. That definitely wasn’t. The detective was still being interviewed. “He does look like a giggly bitch though, huh?”

“Oh, shut up.” He shoved Bing’s feet off the couch, then burst out laughing when the android threw his hands out to catch himself.

Chuckling, Bing reached down to adjust how his jeans tucked into his boots. “Hear anything from Ollie yet? I thought you were gonna meet him downtown today.”

“Haven’t gone yet. I actually didn’t think you’d be awake when I did go, so wanna come? Bet he’d be happy to see you!”

Chase couldn’t help but laugh when Bing nudged him with his shoulder. “Duh! Haven’t seen Ollie in fuckin’ forever, man! When you leaving?”

Phone lighting up when he turned it on, Chase shrugged. “Eh. ‘Bout half hour if we wanna take an Uber. Ollie’s walking, so we don’t have to rush.”

A quick text to Anti (who was hopefully still upstairs with Jameson and the kids) to tell him they’d be leaving soon, and Chase reclined back into the soft cushions of the couch. “How you think Ollie’s doing without all the repairs?”

Bing huffed through his nose. “He’s said he’s fine, but I’ll bet it’s drivin’ him crazy. Y’know how awkward it is to move a limb when you can’t fuckin’ feel it? Surprised he hasn’t accidentally crushed something yet.”

“Crush somethin’?” Chase snorted. “It’s his leg.”

“And? Goes to nudge somethin’ out of his way, he could break his foot right through it.”

“Okay, okay, you’re right.” He could…actually rather easily see that happening now that he thought of it.

On glancing back to the television, Jimmy was on (or “Tim” as his name tag said). Was the interview over? Or just on pause or whatever? Regardless, the Iplier had a bright smile on his face as he went over the week’s weather predictions. How did he make something so boring so amusing to watch?

“C’mon.” Chase hopped to his feet after turning the TV off and shoving his phone in his pocket. An Uber would be arriving shortly. Damn were those convenient.

The chains on Bing’s boots clinked as he followed the Septic down the sidewalk to wait for their ride. He’d gotten new shoes recently. Chase still wasn’t quite used to the sound they made. They fit him, though. Bing just seemed like the type of guy to wear boots like that, he thought. Bing had his sunglasses on—the ones Amy had picked up for him months ago—but the case with his glasses from Oliver was sticking out of the pocket of his hoodie.

Despite them, Chase knew the android’s eyes were probably as bright as his smile. Literally.

The drive to the little diner was short. They could have walked, but then they would have been late. Being late would have meant Oliver had to sit and wait for a good long while for them to actually arrive.

As it were, their Uber pulled up on the curb just as Oliver was reaching the corner for the crosswalk. He was hard to miss. While he wasn’t tall by any means, his raven-colored hair faded into an odd straw yellow like a botched dye-job where it fell past his shoulders. It was easy to pick out among the crowd.

He grinned when they met at the entrance.

“How are the kids liking school?” he asked.

“They start next week,” he answered. Well, Kyler and Sophie did. Yan had decided last-minute to remain at home, but would have one of his classes at the school. Chase grabbed the door and attempted to push. All he succeeded in was running into it as both androids tried their best to stifle their snickers while the Septic glared at the “Pull” sign right next to the handle. It seemed like every goddamn business had a different door, he thought with a roll of his eyes as he yanked it open.

“They’re excited, though,” he added as the trio went to find a table. “Hopefully they’ll make some friends.”

They started nudging each other when they reached a booth to fight for getting a seat to themself. Chase ended up victorious and grinned smugly as he sat opposite the androids.

Bing ordered a black coffee. Oliver, a Coke. Chase couldn’t help the little twitch at the corner of his lip when the Google said that to the waitress. A part of him almost wanted to say The Phrase. God. How long had that meme survived among the fans? He cleared his throat when the woman turned to him expectantly. An iced tea sounded good.

Somewhere during the drink orders, Bing had swapped out his sunglasses for the thick-framed spectacles Oliver had given him a while back. Looking at them side-by-side, Chase noticed that it actually made their eyes very similar golden browns when they both had the glasses on. Then again, yellow-orange and dark yellow were pretty similar to begin with. He had to wonder if that meant Red’s eyes would be a darker brown.

“Hey.” Oliver was rolling his eyes when Chase finally snapped to attention. Had he been talking that whole time? “Where’s your hat?”

Patting the top of his head like he’d only just realized it was gone, Chase blinked. Where was… Oh! That’s right. “Sophie stole it. Again,” he laughed. Drinks were brought shortly thereafter. Chase was the only one to give a food order.

“Should get her one,” the Upgrade suggested as the waitress wandered off. He ripped the paper off his straw and stuck it in his drink; his eyes followed it as the carbonation lifted it back up, only for him to shove it back down. It reminded Chase of a little kid playing with their drink, but he cleared his throat to stifle his laugh. Oh, Oliver.

“I’ve thought of it,” he said instead, “just need to find her one that has somethin’ she likes on it.”

Bing leaned back in his seat, coffee pulled close to his chest. “Bet you could find one from one of those medical shows she likes online. She’d love it to bits!”

That was…a good idea, actually. He’d look into it. Maybe for her birthday, he thought.

Chase’s eyes drifted up toward the TV near the cash register. It was one of those boxy old ones that hadn’t gotten the memo that it was outdated as it happily chugged along to show the news in…well, not full color. The screen was grainy and things on it seemed desaturated. It was definitely past its prime, poor thing.

Jim was on again, giving missing persons reports. “You worried?” he asked the Upgrade without looking at him.

A shrug. It was all Oliver offered for a while. Then, quietly, “Not really? I mean, how it anyone going to figure out who did it? No fingerprints, no blood from the suspect. At least, not what they would know is blood.” Oil was what he meant, of course. What human in their right mind would ever think oil could be blood? “They will search for a good long while, and then the case will be filed away as unsolved. Simple as that.”

“Have you seen the dude investigating it?” Bing asked with a shake of the head.

Oliver snorted. “Yeah. Looks like he has a pole wedged up his—” he trailed off to take a long drink from his soda.

Chase couldn’t stifle his laughter that time. “You—you almost swore! Oliver almost swore!”

“C’mon dude, say it!” Bing nudged the other android, but only got a huff in answer. “Come on, man! The worst I’ve ever heard from you is fuckin’…dammit and that ain’t even a curse.”

Oliver made a face, nose scrunched up and all. Then proceeded to ignore the fact he had a straw to drink right from the cup and crunched the ice he got as a result.

A shudder passed down Chase’s spine. “Eugh—no! Don’t do that!”

A smug grin passed over Oliver’s face just then.

Crunch.

“Ollie!”

[mymusehatesme]

Silver and Gold

Words: 1322

Part: 4 of 7: In which you meet a new friend.

   Part one, two, three, five, six, and seven.

Summary: A beanstalk in the woods and your curious brother are not a good mix.  He steals from the giant that lives in the floating castle and you are left to deal with the consequences. [Gender neutral reader.]

This is an at least half-white Mixed!Reader, as their mother is Kelly Kline, but the father is not described.

Warnings: Sarcasm, anxiety, trust issues, yelling, and over-protectiveness.

Masterlist

Air.  Air, not water surrounding you.  Dry sand at your back, drying on your skin; not floating weightless in an endless blue.

Distantly aware you weren’t breathing.

Your mouth was open slightly and cool lips pressed against yours.  Something strange touched the tip of your tongue and electricity lit up your insides.

Your eyes shot open and the person pulled away, pushing your head to the side and pressing down on your abdomen to make you breathe out.  Heaving up all the water in your lungs, you heard a male voice gently tell you, “That’s it, get it all out.  It’s okay, you’re okay.”

Coughing up the last bits of water, you curled in on yourself and held your hands to your chest as you trembled.  A cool hand ran up and down your back in a soothing motion.  It felt nice and you didn’t want it to stop.  You didn’t want to open your eyes and accept the past week had truly happened.

Water in your lungs. You remembered drowning.  Shining eyes in the darkness as cold hands pulled you down, down, down-

If you kept your eyes shut, you could pretend you were asleep in your bed high an insanely high fever and that hand at your back was your mother trying to make you feel better.

“It’s gone now,” the strange voice said.

“You sure?” Balthazar.

“Yep!  Lungs are able to breathe air now instead of water,” the stranger chirped.

A sigh from Balthazar. “Thank you,” he replied softly.

Exhaustion seeped into your bones and you drifted off.

When you came to, everything hurt.  You groaned, shifting against the sandy surface you were lying against-

Your eyes shot open and you sat bolt upright.  It was dark, a sliver was left of the moon, the waves lapped against the shore, and the stars twinkled kindly from the heavens.  Not taking your eyes off the sky, you got to your feet and smiled widely.  Then you burst out laughing.

You were alive!

Your laughter cut off short and your smile dropped.  Wait.  Where was Balthazar?

Spinning around, you took in your surroundings.  It was an island – fairly large with a small forest.  The air was warm and the sounds of the ocean calmed you.

“He almost died, you know,” a voice said, startling you.  You spun around and looked for the source.  “Down here,” the voice offered.

You looked down and saw a man half-submerged in the water.  He snapped his fingers and fireflies started blinking, giving some light for you to see.

He wasn’t wearing a shirt.  He had kindly golden eyes, slicked-back hair, and a tail.  When he smiled, you saw his mouth was full of razor-sharp teeth.

You gasped and scrambled backwards.

He laughed slightly, as though he was expecting your reaction.  “He said you might be jumpy – what with everything that’s happened to you,” he offered in a soothing voice, careful to cover his teeth with his lips, “Balthazar will be back shortly,” he waved a hand in a dismissive manner, “It’s all right, you’re safe now.”

You blinked as you remembered how Balthazar was talking to the stranger.  “You, uh,” you stammered, “and Balthazar, you.  You’re friends?  Know each other?”

“Pfffft,” he rolled eyes dramatically and chuckled, “Friends?  Was that what he told you?”

“Sir,” your voice was clipped and thin, “Literally all I know about him is that he plays the harp, was willing to jump out a window to be free of a curse, and knows how to engage with mythical creatures.”

The man blinked at you a few times, his face carefully calm as he took in your words.  “Oh, wow,” he breathed, “You have no idea what’s going on, do you?”

Anger sparked and flared in your chest, forcing you to take in a deep breath to make the red in your vision go away.  “Yes. I mean no.  No, I don’t know what’s going on. Look, a few minutes after meeting him, he pulled me out of a window.  A window… of a castle in the sky! When I was falling through the sky, I had to accept that I was going to die without having my last words to my living family members being, ‘I love you.’ That was my first day with him. The second through the fifth was on a ship.  Which we got thrown of off.  And I almost drowned and he almost died, so.”

He was silent. Quietly studying you.  Then he reached out to you, extending his hand, “My name’s Gabe.”

You hesitated a moment before moving toward him, getting to your knees and sitting on your heels as you took his hand.  “I’m Y/N.”

He smiled widely and crowed, “Well, it’s nice to meet ya!”  He shook your hand enthusiastically and chattered on, “I gotta say, I haven’t met anybody new in a while and sailors aren’t that keen on starting a conversation with a mer, so you’re a most welcome change!”

Footsteps approached and you turned to find Balthazar walking toward you.  “Ah.  Y/N, this is Gabe; Gabe, Y/N.  I mean, I trust you’ve already introduced yourselves, but you know.  Just being thorough.”

Gabe waved a hand at him.  “Cover all your bases, Balthy,” he said jovially, beaming a close-lipped smile at the blond, “That’s what I taught you, after all.”

“Yes.  Yes, you did.”

“How,” you asked slowly, looking between the two of them, “do you know each other?”

“Long story. Involves a few curses,” Gabe offered, giving you a look, “My curse, to be precise; and it can only be broken by a kiss.”  His expression turned slightly smug.

You blinked at him. “Uhmm, okay?”

He pushed himself on his elbows, moving his head closer to yours.  “C’mere,” he nodded, tapping his cheek twice with the tip of his index finger, “Give me one.  See if it works.”

You hesitated. Then, seeing no reason not to, you leaned forward and planted a kiss on his damp cheek.  When you pulled back, his eyes were closed and he had a ridiculous smile on his face.  He opened his eyes and looked down, his smile only dropping slightly.

“Huh.  I guess that didn’t work.  How about we try on the lips this time?”

You blinked again. While you weren’t opposed to doing that, per se, you’d never had someone just… up and say, ‘Kiss me, please.’

A hand clapped on your shoulder.  “Gabe, that’s enough, you’ve had your fun.  Come along now, Y/N.”

Gabriel stuck his tongue out.  “Spoilsport.” He pushed himself back further into the water and away from shore.  “Get some rest.  I’ll get something to help you out.  Leave it to me!”  He winked at you again and then dipped beneath the waves.

Balthazar sighed and helped you to stand.  “Come,” he said gently, “We’d best do as he suggests.”

You followed him to a stone-ringed campfire that had two piles of leaves on either side of it. You asked in disbelief, “Did you put this together while I was out?”

“Of course I did,” he said, lying down on his makeshift bed, “What did you think I was doing?”

You shrugged and laid down on your back on the empty one.  Crossing your arms over your stomach, you looked up at the stars and listened to the crackling flames.  “Hey, Balthazar?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you going to tell me about how you and Gabe know each other?  And pretty much... everything involved with how we ended up here?”  There was too much you didn’t know.

What curse was Gabe talking about?  How did Balthazar end up saving you AGAIN?  How did you both get to this island?  What curse kept Balthazar in the giant’s castle in the first place?

He sighed softly. “If you wish.”

You laughed slightly. “Thank you,” you said, relaxing into the leaves.

“You’re welcome. Now, get some rest.  You’re going to need it.”

< part three     part five >

[spared-sans]

United in Hell

In which Mercy finds herself siding with Talon.

[Okay so

I got carried away.

Overwatch fanfic hath arrived. Enjoy~]

The unease began as soon as the recall was issued. Angela of course joined her comrades at their former Gibraltar base. Winston, Tracer, Reinhardt and herself were all that had arrived as of now. They were happily catching up on 10 years of stories and she could hear their laughter as she made her way down the dim hallways.

Rounding a corner, Angela entered her old medical lab. Everything was as she’d left it, if not a little dusty from the years. It was almost nostalgic as she ran her fingers along the counters. A decade away and it was almost exactly as she’d left it. Beakers in their cupboards. Everything in its place. But something nagged at the back of the doctors mind. Something was missing. Something important. She couldn’t quite place her finger on it. Perhaps she was just tired from the trip. Or perhaps not. Something pulled her forward to her old desk as she sat down and pulled open the drawers. They stuck slightly, but opened after a little wiggling, a small plume of dust making her cough softly.. 10 years felt like forever and no time at all. Her memories weren’t nearly so clear and they’d left the base in such a hurry. Still, Angela knew everything in her lab. Knew where everything was. She was meticulous in her organization. So why was she having such a hard time figuring out what was missing?

As she moved aside a small stack of papers her eyes widened. “No…” Of course. Why hadn’t she realized before now? The pieces clicked into place as she took in the room again. The dusty room. Everything was covered in a thin layer of dust. But her desk wasn’t. Not even her monitor or computer tower.

Angela stood quickly from her chair, it rolling back a few feet as she scanned the room. Winston had said he didn’t go into her lab. He had his own area and Athena kept tabs on his vitals, so why- Her gaze halted on a corner of the room bathed in shadow, a figure shifting slightly before moving forward and Angelas eyes narrowed.

“Moira. How did you get in here?” Her voice came out harshly toward her ex comrade.

As the scientist stepped further into the light, she crossed her arms, a pleased smile on her face. What could she possibly be so smug about? Breaking into overwatch? Somehow getting past Athenas security- No… Let through. Moiras smile widened as realization crossed Angelas features. The recent attack on Gibraltar. Of course.

“It’s nice to see you again, Angela. It’s been far too long. I’m glad you accepted the recall too.” She chuckled as the doctors eyes narrowed further. “You forgot? I was just as much a part of overwatch as you were, doctor. Did you not miss me?” Angela hissed softly. There were three people down the hall that could help her, but if Athena was corrupted, they’d be clueless unless one of them came to find her. She wasn’t nearly so defenseless, however. As much as she hated fighting, this was a battle she wouldn’t lose easily. Her Caduceus blaster was unclipped from her side and pointed at Moira in a split second, but she didn’t pull the trigger yet.

“You still won’t talk to me? No more words? You used to be better than this. Ask questions first. Heal those in need. What happened to you?” Moiras tone was a mix of condescending and… pain? No that couldn’t be right.

“You know damn well what happened, O'deorain. You sold out to Talon. Overwatch got shut down because you betrayed us. Betrayed me.” Her tone faltered for a second, but she steeled her nerves. Sentimentality would only blind her right now. No matter if her and the scientist used to be close. They weren’t anymore.

“I didn’t betray you. I found an opportunity to advance my research. You know better than anyone how much my work means to me.” Moira took a slow step forward and Angelas pistol straightened firmly, her grip tightening.

“Stop. I won’t listen to your dreams of megalomania, Moira. We’ve been through this.” The doctor watched as Moiras arms unfolded, her palms held upward.

“They’re no longer dreams, Angela. I can end this war. The advancements I’ve made can stop the fighting. Can fix everythi-“

“I said stop!” A blaster shot echos in the room as it singes the shell of Moiras ear, halting her completely. “I don’t care. Whatever you’ve done, I don’t want to hear it. You lost your chance over a decade ago when you sided with them.”

Moira seemed almost at a loss, the shot having shocked her more than anything else. She’s silent for a moment before her gaze meets with Angelas. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you, if you’d just listen. Talon is shifting its movement. It’s motivations are changing as my work progresses.”

Angelas blaster lowers just slightly as she processes Moiras words. Changing? She knew she shouldn’t even entertain the idea of listening, but something in her old comrades face and tone made her hesitate. She was so cocky a few moments ago, now suddenly this? The doctor didn’t understand. She really should be calling for Winston. Instead her arm drops and she gestures to a chair, expression set hard.

“Fine. Sit.”

Moira took the offered chair, folding her hands in her lap, though angela stayed standing. She wasn’t ready to trust any of this or relax completely, but she’d listen. Best case, she got information on talon. Worst case, Moira was lying and this was a distraction. Her old fondness of the scientist made her want to believe, no matter how much she hated everything she’d done.

“Changing how?”

“Talons goal has always been purity of the human race through conflict. That is both before Akandes lead, and up until the past few months.” Moira began. “Since my recent discovery, we’ve learned of a far better way of purifying humanity and growing it to its highest potential.”

Angela was already finding herself disgusted. She knew of talons motivations. Humanity didn’t need to be purified. Moira noticed this look and held up her hands in a sort of surrender. “Listen, Angela. I never cared for their views. My only goal has been-“

“I know what your goal has been.” Angela cut her off sharply. “Get to the point.”

The scientist sighed softly, returning her hands to her lap. “My point is I’ve shown them humanity need not be purified. Not through conflict. Most of them want power. They have it. Some want only misery for others. Those people have been snuffed out. The only way to change their view completely and stop this endless war,” Moira seemed to stare into Angela, and she wasn’t sure how to feel about it. “is if you agree to help.”

Angela was completely taken aback. What could possibly make them listen to her? She’d fought against them and tended to those they’d wounded for years. Why all of a sudden now did they care for anything she would have to offer? “I don’t believe you.” Her blaster rose again, lining the barrel with Moiras forehead.

Moira didn’t flinch, keeping eye contact with the doctor. “I know you don’t. They’ve never stopped before, so why would they stop now for you, right?” Moira raised her right brow. “Because you are the only person in the world who is superior to me, and you always have been. If you show them the same results I’ve received, if not better, they’ll have no choice. The council will usurp Akande and Talon will disperse.”

She couldn’t believe a word of this. It had to be a trap. A fabricated lie to trick her into walking willingly into talon.  Angela steeled her nerves once more as Moira sighed and stood, moving around the doctor. “I get it. You think it’s a trap, and I don’t blame you. You have no reason to believe me. At least think about it.”

Her blaster followed Moira as she moved and she hissed under her breath. “Don’t take another step, Moira! I will shoot you.”

That made the scientist pause with an incredulous laugh. “Then do it.” A long moment of silence passed between them before the scientist glanced over her shoulder. “You never could. Call me should you decide to believe me. My number’s in your desk.”

Angela cursed as Moira vanished into smoke, the doctor dashing to the door of the lab. Her head whipped to look down both directions of the hallway, but there was no sign of her. “Damnit!”

She smacked her hand against the door frame as she walked back to her chair, sliding heavily into it. She pinched the bridge of her nose as she set her blaster onto her desk, Moiras words running through her mind. Of course she didn’t believe her. Couldn’t. The uneasy feeling washed over her once more. Why was she even considering this? She knew why. Because her and Moira used to be close once. Because she was tired of this war. Tired of seeing her friends and comrades injured and dying. Because she would gladly take any opportunity to break talon apart. She was seriously considering it. She needed to take her mind off this.

Angelas distraction came in the form of a chipper British voice startling her from her thoughts and nearly out of her chair. “Hey doc! You do know there’s beds you can use if you’re tired. Oh. Sorry, didn’t mean to scare ya.”

She forced a smile as her gaze met Lenas. “It’s alright. Just a lot on my mind. Too many memories here.” Angela stood, pushing her chair back to her desk and clipping the blaster back onto her hip. ���I heard you brought earl grey with you? I could use a cup, Lena.”

Lenas eyes seemed to light up and she beamed at the doctor. “Absolutely, doctor Ziegler! I’ll get right on it!” A flash of blue and the pilot was gone.

Angela made her way to the door, hesitating as she looked back to the desk. A few short steps and she opened the left bottom drawer on a hunch. A sticky note was inside with a number written on it. Moira always stuck important notices in that drawer when they worked together. Of course she wouldn’t have forgotten about that. She stares at the note before picking it up. Everything told her to burn it or throw it away, but she stuck it in her pocket and headed toward the dining hall. She could burn it later, after her tea.

[crestedcurls-blog]

Come Home To Me

A commission piece for the lovely @idiotcrusader

SFW, Reaper76, some violence in the beginning.  

6.6k words

Read it on AO3

Los Muertos was a plague on the small town of Dorado. They had intercepted several weapons shipments and had used them to terrorize tourists and extort protection money from local businesses among other crimes. Their spree of violence had gone unchecked by the officials who were spread too thin to deal with the threat. It required an outside set of skills.

The vigilant had moved quickly after the first reports came in, moving from his search in Canada for answers to the warm streets of Mexico. After renting out a small hotel room--paid in cash, under a false name--he began his search, following the movements of the criminals. There was one skirmish involving a little girl and a grenade, but nothing had come of. He was simply left with some new bruises and the girl’s voice, ringing in his ears: You’re one of those heroes, aren’t you?

He was no hero. Not anymore.

76 geared up for another assault. This time, he would be ready for them.  A shipment was being moved and he needed to get ahead of it before the weapons could be used to hurt more. Oh, how he claimed he didn’t care, that he worked solely for himself and his own interests, but that was a damn lie to himself. 76 cared about every person who his actions saved. Which is exactly why he was here, and why the weapons needed to be stopped.

Into the darkness he moved, using only the glow of the visor to define the world. Los Muertos was not a quiet gang and he could hear the laughter of the grunts loading the expensive tools of war into crates before moving them onto the transport. Rapid fire Spanish echoed down the alley, a joke before sharp, barking laughs. Serious tones took over, and something about the guns were mentioned--god, 76 wished he remembered more Spanish. Despite his itchiness to head into the firefight, his training stayed his hand, forcing him to remain down the alley, out of view.

After minutes passed, his patience was rewarded and 76 was able to gain a better understanding of what opposed him. A team of gangbangers, armed with heavy weapons and perhaps a little too much of whatever drug had hit the market recently. Without taking his eyes off the scene, he took stock of his weapons--a couple of biotic canisters, several extra pulse clips, and a Beretta strapped to the outside of his thigh.

This was doable.

His inventory stocked and prepared, 76 waited for another minute, listening to their movements. His restraint was rewarded in the form of one of the scouts stumbling slowly down the alley that hid 76--it was go time.

Soldier 76 moved all at once, appearing from the shadows to grab the scrawny man by the jaw and slam his face against the wall, hearing the bones in his jaw and cheeks crack under the pressure. 76 didn’t stop to listen to his screams, climbing up the nearby fire escape before the fallen criminal’s friends could investigate too closely.

Three of the gangbangers moved into the dark alley, toting oversized weapons that even an experienced 76 regarded as lethal. Once they were below him, 76 dropped from the rusty metal, already firing his pulse rifle. The three barely had time to make a noise before high-powered shots slammed into their bodies and they fell to the ground.

Bullets peppered the ground around his feet, hardly missing the worn boots as 76 threw himself to the side. At the entrance of the alley, a man stood with a large minigun, and it was already spinning up for another onslaught, sure to shred the little cover that the vigilant had managed. Quick thinking led Jack to the fallen man that had originally tested his luck, and the belt of grenades slung so casually around his chest.

Grab, pop, throw and go.

He didn’t even look at the bomb hit the ground, blowing up the man with the impressive weapon and another who had been approaching as backup of sorts, toting additional ammunition for the gun.

That left only two more lackies and the two big guys who seemed to be calling the shots at the moment; Unsurprisingly, they remained back by the shipment in order to protect their precious stolen goods.

Turning, 76 barely had time to raise his rifle again before a bullet sliced through the skin of his right shoulder, cutting it in two down to the bone. With a grunt and a gasp of pain, he raised the pulse rifle with his non-dominant hand, feeling the pull of skin and muscle,  and blindly sprayed the alley, connecting with the taller of the two lackies and dropping him beside his fallen friends. The clip was now empty and one arm was solidly out of commission, but he had managed to cut down the crew that much more.

As the final underling advanced down the death-ridden alley, looking nervous, 76 cast aside his precious rifle in favor of the pistol strapped to his thigh. A full clip and the practiced ability to reload with one hand made for a better close-quarters weapons. The brute had three bullets emptied into him, killing him instantly. Rapid Spanish filled the air, the remaining few gang members growing concerned for their friends who had met their fate in the narrow alley.

76 rounded the corner to a hail of curses and bullets. Languages were never really his thing--there was no need for a foreign language in the fields of Indiana--but 76 managed to pick up on a few of the phrases from his time with--No, no.  No distractions. His friend was gone, he wasn’t worth 76 losing his life over too.

Dodging behind a pile of trash and old broken boxes, 76 let a curse slip from him. Jesus, he was too old for this anymore. How long could this firefight go on before someone gave up? Before everyone was dead? Before even he was running on total empty? It had been days since he had slept soundly, and the meager meals he had managed made it difficult to feed his super-soldier metabolism. Could he really keep this up?

The next second found him rolling forward, spraying bullets as fast as his sidearm would fire. One nailed its target but the others missed widely. 76 cursed the injured arm for his failure.

Almost in slow motion, 76 watched the large rifle nestle against the shoulder of the brute, watched him take aim and fire. Then, pain, raw and visceral, exploded in his left shoulder. Two more of the shots connected with 76’s legs, one with his stomach.

Soldier 76 let out a scream as he hit the ground.

Despair began to replace that resilient, bitter flame of hope that he had managed to keep kindled since the explosion. Now, death lurking at the corners of his eyes in an inky black smog that threatened to choke him. Bitter and unyielding, the soldier stayed on his knees, trying and failing to rise to his feet once again. Sensors in the visor picked out the backs of the escaping targets as they sped off through the streets with the stolen weapons. He failed to protect himself or the streets. He had failed the mission, failed the objective. 76 had lost.

God damn it.

The old soldier felt a tear slip down his face. That little girl, the shopkeepers, the homeowners, they were all relying on him to clear this evil out, to extinguish the crime spree that put all of their lives at risk. And now he was bleeding out in several places. Instinct told him to reach for a dwindling biotic canister, but exhaustion stayed his hand. Maybe it was his time. Maybe he could finally rest, and be done with all of this bullshit. 76 had been fighting it for so long, but now he was stuck. Nowhere to go, nothing to do. Even Reaper, his ultimate adversary, had vanished like the ghost he was. And now 76 couldn’t even defeat a small gang in Mexico.

Pathetic. He could hear the voice of his old commander from the army screaming at him in his ear. The mission’s not over until you get your guy.

“The mission was long over,” 76 argued with the dead man in his head. “I failed, and my family paid the price. Let me rest.”

The mission’s not over until you get your guy. Reaper’s still out there. Go finish this.

Maybe it was the voice of the man who changed his life, who had saved him from a life on a dusty farm that had 76 reaching tiredly for one of the biotic canisters. Maybe it was just angry old spite and a need to finish something, anything, before he dies. Maybe it was just because he was too lazy to let himself bleed out and ultimately too scared to pull the trigger himself. Hell, who knows if the serum would even let him die then? No, it was much better to remain on his feet, even for a bit longer.

But his hand never made it to the small canisters at his hip, interrupted instead by the sensation of a shotgun resting against the back of his head. 76 didn’t move any further, just froze as much as the injury in his arms would allow him to. Looks like Death had found him in more ways than one.

“Soldier 76.” That ruined voice rasped at him.

“Reaper.”

“Didn’t think I’d find you cleaning up the trash in Méjico.”

“I figured you needed a break from me chasing you. But I guess you ended up chasing me anyway.” 76 bit back a grunt as more blood leaked from him. It had struck him that the old CO was right, he didn’t want to die, not yet, not like this. One hand creeped further toward the the canisters, hoping that Reaper might take this small mercy for him. “Can I just--”

The shotgun pressed harder against his skull, grinding into the bone. “I don’t think so.”

76 began to grow angry with the arrangement. It wasn’t meant to be like this; they were meant to meet on fair fields, faced off in a duel to a death. Not Reaper preparing to murder him, execution style. Twisting to look up at him, 76’s lips twisted up in a scowl; not that Reaper could see behind that mask, but the emotion was still there, clear in his voice. “Either kill me or tell me what you want, asshole.”

Behind the porcelain mask of his own, Reaper’s face gathered into a snarl as well. How dare he talked to him like this, this disrespectful little sh--

76’s face blanched, the blood loss making itself known. Screw the gun to his forehead, he was going for the canisters. And to his surprise, Reaper held his trigger finger. The crimson hands cracked the tube and bathed both of them in a golden hue, beginning to erase many of the fresh wounds and repleting his energy some.

The vigilant now distracted by the sudden relief and with dark eyes obscured by the hooked visage of the owl mask, Reaper gazed over the body that seemed so familiar. Stolen intel had referenced the fact that 76 may be the hero of before, the golden boy immortalized in a permanent statue. Funny how permanence had no place anymore. But here, now… Reaper’s suspicion had been confirmed. This was him, this is the man he once protected and cared for, a partner he had once loved. Once upon a time...

The gun against his head seemed to waver for a second. 76 glanced sharply up at the man, confused as the deadly weapon slipped from his forehead and back into a cloud of smoke. What was even more concerning than was watching the shadowy form fall to his knees facing 76, bowing his head in what seemed like a sorrowful gesture.

“I’m so sorry, Jack.” The rasp was less pronounced, the words more familiar this time.

76 pulled back sharply, confusion lacing his brow. That voice…

“G-gabe?” He reached out toward the man, hands wrapping around his shoulders--The texture was bizarre, solid, but wispy around the edges.. “Gabriel Reyes?”

The hooded form nodded. “It’s me, Jack.”

“You’re a-alive.” Jack managed out, wounds still making it hard to focus. “What… what happened to you?”

Alarmed at the blood that refused to cease, Gabe chose to dodge that question in favor of wrapping himself around Jack, supporting his battered body. “C’mon, Jack, let’s get you safe.”

                                                      …

Jack was set carefully on the bed of the dingy motel room. The former strike commander enjoyed the security of the streets, of being anonymous, but nothing could beat a hot shower and a semi-decent bed and for as long as he planned on staying in Dorado, having both was a advantage to his cause.

He had fallen asleep as Gabe carried him back. Perhaps the blood loss was greater than he thought, or the day’s emotions were just too strong. Either way, Jack dropped off shortly after Gabe had scooped him up in those all-too-familiar broad arms. At the sensation of being set down into the cool sheets of his hotel bed, Jack slowly cracked his faded blue eyes. From behind the red visor, Gabe was regarded with suspicious eyes as the wraith bustled around, pulling the first aid kit and a glass of water from the small bathroom.  

Jack tried yanking the kit from the figure and insisting on doing it himself. Gabe couldn’t be trusted, not yet, and Jack was always the better medic of the two. But that wasn’t obvious by looking at Jack; he was tired, drained, and the boring eyes of Gabe didn’t help the crooked stitches and the gentle stabs with the tools that were meant to help, not harm. Where was Mercy when you needed her?

“Let me help you, Jack.”

“I don’t need your damn help.”

But nothing deterred Gabe as he settled down next to a wounded Jack. Something about this felt more familiar than either one of them would have liked to admit, but neither one commented on the eerie similarity to the past years. Jack watched him carefully as Gabe pulled out a knife, designed to cut away the ruined fabric of his pants. While he was aware of what Gabe’s goals were, it didn’t make the sensation of his enemy brandishing a weapon over his form any easier.

Gabe ignored the way that Jack reached automatically for the comforting feeling of the now-missing sidearm. Jack’s weapons had been collected by the wraith, sitting in a pile in the corner to be cleaned and fixed up, and to avoid Jack shooting him. He’d get the weapons back, later. For now, Gabe set to the gruesome job of slowly cutting away the ruined material, revealing the two major holes in Jack’s legs. Blood still leaked weakly from the bullet wounds, forcing Gabe into action before he could help with the rest of the battered soldier.

With the help of a set of tweezers and some sterile thread, Gabe was able to remove the bullets and close the wounds. Jack’s face had gone ashen silently, as he faded in and out of consciousness. The super soldier never attempted to escape. Healing needed to happen and honestly? It was nice to have someone else taking care of him.

Once satisfied that the injuries in Jack’s legs would heal, Gabe moved up to unzip that gaudy leather jacket with 76 depicted on the broad shoulders. Internally, he reminded himself to tease Jack about the ridiculous call sign later, after the danger was removed. Jack’s eyes flashed open behind the visor, but the man was too weak to fight Gabe off; He’d just have to have faith that he was here to help, not to harm.

And slowly, the old soldier was patched together again. Once satisfied that Jack wasn’t going to bleed out from the major injuries, Gabe cracked one of the biotic canisters in order to clean up some of the smaller scratches and bruises while Jack napped. Reassured that the vigilante would survive the night, Gabriel got up, gathering a small spread of snacks for the two and booted up the old TV to play some old novella while Reaper attempt to rest.

“Gabe?” Came the weak voice from beside him as he settled back into the bed. “What happened to you?”

“I was in the explosion. That witch Moira had been playing around with some of these nanites. Gave ‘em to me before a major mission in Dubai. Been using them since, but after the explosion--” Gabe remembered it bitterly, body burned and crushed under a piece of the Overwatch logo. He recalled the blood pooling in his mouth, in his shoulder, pain sparking from every nerve. Gabe desperately screaming, trying to get his hands to turn to wisps in order to free himself. It was only as he felt the life fading from him that Gabe’s entire body had splintered into pieces and escaped the embrace of twisted metal and concrete. He had never been able to maintain the same body again, too ruined to get every piece back where it should be. Now he was just some grotesque husk of a man once was, an abomination of humanity and death.

Shaking himself, he returned to the conversation at hand. “I was scattered into pieces after something fell on me. I’ve been piecing myself back together since but… It hurts. And I can never maintain it for long. I can never really go back to the way I was.” Gabe finally managed out the truths that had locked themselves away in his head for so long. “What happened to you, after the explosion?”

Jack laughed, a bitter, soulless laugh that hurt his stomach. “Everything. I was a mess. I just ran, Gabe. I just fucking ran. Been surviving, running, since. Trying to figure out what happened, but it’s just not there yet. I’m missing something and I have no idea what.”

Gabe nodded; he knew the feeling. Thankfully, Jack hadn’t mentioned anything about Gabe’s own viglianting, about the masked figure only known as Reaper. Gabe was scared to go back, scared to show what was left of the once powerful Blackwatch commander. He had signed on with Talon, if only to have O’Deorain there to maintenance the nanites. Since joining, Gabe had hidden behind the mask and cloak to prevent his identity from getting out. Anonymity was his protection.

Glancing over at him, the former Blackwatch Commander opened his mouth, just to close it again. A smear of red on Jack had caught his eye, something missed earlier. The large gash began just above his eyebrow and disappeared downward in a slant over his nose. “Jack, your face--!” Gabe reached out, claws moving slowly to Jack’s face, but the vigilant jerked away before he could touch him.

“Don’t touch it.” His voice was grim as he shifted away on the bed, carefully. Shit. That broken glass behind the boxes; he was too preoccupied by the gunshots at the time, the pain hadn’t registered. And now Gabe wanted to take the mask.

Jack had never told anyone about the poor eyesight that plagued him after the explosion; the smoke and bits of glass had shredded his corneas, rendering him completely blind at the time. The sight had returned somewhat, over the years, but everything remained blurry, colorful shapes.  The only thing that helped was the red visor, stolen from a locker in a long-forgotten Overwatch base. It had been made for him years ago, in case of a hands-free mission, but now provided his aid in day-to-day activities. Very rarely did the man go without it anymore, and never in the presence of others. Especially not Gabe.

Gabe sat up, brow furrowing under his own mask. Self-esteem issues plagued him too--a face that never seemed to be solid greeted him when he lifted up his own mask. It was a mockery of what he once was--handsome, with a strong jawline and a broad nose ever-so-crooked from the years of abuse that he endured in the military. Now, it was a mish-mash of a dead man reanimated, a travesty of who he was before.

It took concentration to keep his face together. Tiny wisps of inky black smoke billowed from it, the nanites keeping him alive burning off and regenerating at rates faster than he could keep track off. Without focusing, his face could be engulfed by the inky smoke, ruining his features and turning him into stuff of nightmares. A fair amount of mirrors had been broken over the new look. And so, the man devised his own disguise. A harbinger of death, someone to seek out the guilty and enact as judge, juror and executioner. It was a mission to hell paved with good intentions. After a while, Gabe lost sight of who was the good guy and who was the bad. And now he was just the Reaper, angry and lost, wandering the streets in search of a clue to his past life and what happened to Overwatch.

Gabe sucked in a breath, watching Jack carefully through the slits in the porcelain mask. It was obvious that the idea of being without his mask in front of Gabe made him uncomfortable, so it was up to Gabe change that. Clawed gloves rested over Jack’s hands, gently guiding them to his own white mask. Trust starts somewhere, and Gabe was willing to extend that olive branch.

“Are you sure?” Was Jack… concerned?

The pointed chin dipped down in a nod. It was time. Together, the old partners removed the owlish mask and set it aside.

At first, the space behind the mask was blank, a wall of inky darkness that resembled nothing that Jack had ever seen. After a couple of beats, though, Gabe’s face slowly began to solidify in the darkness. Smoke dripped from mounding nostrils as the blackness hardened to form tired eyes and a sagged face. Gabe released Jack’s hand, resisting the urge to hide himself from view.

Jack resisted the urge to pull back. The face was seemingly intact, but whatever lurked behind it was a smoky mess, wisping out from behind the hood to create a ghost-like effect. It was as monstrous as it was familiar--a hard jaw, peeking out from the elements, the half-curve of his lips into an amused smile, a richness deep within the man’s eyes. Jack had been in love with him since their days in the SEP but it was only after their promotions that his desperate pinnings had been realized.

In the back of his head, Jack remembered the first time they kissed; in his office, after Gabe had gotten back from a particularly dangerous mission. After weeks spent in the infirmary, Gabe had shown up with that infuriating half-smile and Jack found himself pinning him up against the wall, taking his lips angrily, hands roaming an injured body. It was only after a few minutes of kissing that they had broken apart, gasping and laughing.

Gabe had loved him.

In a way, Jack still loved him.

“Yeah, it’s pretty bad, huh.” Gabe interrupted Jack’s thoughts with a bitter laugh, running rampant of those hours spent in his office together. “Kids call me a monster. Maybe I am.”

Jack reached out with one hand, almost nervously. Red leather brushed against Gabe’s face as the long fingers of the super soldier curled around his jaw, resting his thumb on his nose and gently rubbing it. Though the mask could help him view, this was a better way to see. Gabe was alive. Hidden by his own visor, Jack began to weep, tears filling ruined eyes and dripping down a hooked nose to collect somewhere below his view.

��Easy, Jackie, I’ll put it back on. I know.” Gabe had cried, too, when he first saw himself. Or at least tried to. He couldn’t distinguish between tears and smoke anymore.

“N-no. Leave it off.” Came the command, thick in his throat. “I love it like this, love you like this.” His thumb rubbed carefully over Gabe’s face, mapping it out--as if it was impossible for Jack to have forgotten it in the first place. Jack spent the next minutes taking in his face, the scars and changes it had underwent since they had last seen each other, so many years ago.

After the moment had past and Gabe had shifted under Jack’s hands--clearly uncomfortable at the attention--Jack removed his hand. It was time for Jack to reciprocate the man’s trust and allow him to work on the gash that laced his own face.

With a similar nod, Jack indicated that he was ready for the removal of the visor. The claws came up to rest against the red glass, ready to catch it, as Jack reached back to undo the clasp that attached it to his face. With a click, it came undone and rested in Gabe’s hand for a moment, before he pulled it away from 76’s face and set it to the side of them, next to his own mask.

Milky blue eyes didn’t look up at Gabe. His face had been ruined by the explosion, debris burying itself in the soft flesh of his head and neck. Jack still remembering the metal pole that swung down, slicing his face in two as he pulled desperately at the rubble pinning him to the ground. Blood had blinded him, spilled into his mouth, choked him out. He had panicked, screaming and sobbing, but the oppressive darkness refused to respond, didn’t help him. Just miles and miles of crushed concrete, blood, that damn blue jacket…

He shook himself, bringing himself from the nightmares of the past that had left him with years of claustrophobia and blindness. Without the visor, Jack only had vague, colorful shapes to define his world; to go without it was a nightmare, but Gabe was right, he needed to clean the wound. Yet another scar slashed into his face--so handsome, in his youth--that would need to be cleaned up. Usually, he’d do it himself, cleaning the blood from his gear and stitching up the ruined skin by feel alone; But this time, smooth hands came up to brush against his face, making him jump nervously.

“Be calm, Jack. I’m not going to hurt you.” Gabe had removed his clawed gloves, revealing hands that certainly looked like his, but were too frighteningly flawless to be his. The nanites had forgotten the calluses and scars from years spent fighting, leaving only cold, too-soft skin. Knuckles brushed against Jack’s cheekbone, remembering the exact moment when he fell in love with his SEP partner.

It was just after they were deemed successes by the SEP scientists. Gabe and Jack had been deployed on a mission somewhere in South Asia to take care of a small group of insurgents who had been kidnapping and executing the local people there. Jack had volunteered to be some kind of distraction while Gabe had snuck around the back to successfully free some of the kidnapped. But before long, they had caught onto the trick and grabbed the nearest person, a girl no older than fifteen, and placed a gun to her head. Jack had volunteered himself, traded his life for the girl’s, and it was in that moment that Gabe got the satisfaction of putting a bullet through the insurgent’s head. It was also in that moment that he realized he was falling stupidly in love with the wide-eyed golden boy from Indiana of all places.

Gabe retrieved the first aid pack, practiced fingers wiping away the dried blood and removing the contaminants from the gash. The needle was strung and the ruined skin was pulled back together.

So far, Gabe hadn’t guessed the man’s weakness, but Jack wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t soon. Jack was a twitchy mess, jumping slightly every time the creeping hands brushed against his face. Between his inability to see more than a cloudy shape near his eyes, and the fact that Gabe was Reaper, the current bane of his existence, Jack wanted nothing more than to sink through the bed and disappear. The pain of the needle barely registered; the old soldier was too distracted by his thoughts to even think about the minor prick against war-leathered skin.

Azure eyes finally looked up at Gabe shortly after he finished with the stitches. There was a pause as Gabe’s gaze devoured the man’s face, taking in each scar and bump, seeing the stories of the years between the explosion and now, the pain and weariness lurking just behind a carefully-constructed wall. But his eyes--there was something wrong. They weren’t the bright blue that took away Gabe’s breath as a young commander, the ones who burned memories in his brain of tired nights looking blankly over war plans, of weeks spent on the battlefield, serious and angry, of the time spent together when Gabe tried to teach Jack how to dance and then they were laughing and falling over each other, rough lips embracing each other in the early hours of the morning where nothing could touch them for those ten minutes--

“What happened to you?” Gabe finally managed out, around the torrent of memories that washed over him.

“War. What else?” Jack had been rasping like that since the explosion, doing everything he could to hide his identity. Today, he’s just Soldier: 76. He couldn’t go back to Jack Morrison even if he wanted. “Things have changed since we last saw each other.” Quietly, he prayed that Gabe didn’t see the way he tried to lean away, to hide his face.

“Jackie.” Gabe caught his chin and pulled his face back toward him. “Are you--the explosion… Are you blind, Jack?”

There was a long pause. Jack closed his eyes and released a long breath. If he didn’t talk about it, if he didn’t acknowledge it, then it wasn’t true, it didn’t happen. But here came Gabe, destroying those foundations. Shit.

He didn’t realize, the one small tear that leaked from his ruined eyes. Jack hadn’t cried since the explosion, since extracting himself and turning his back on everything that he helped to build since he was a young adult. The crystalline drop fell from him, falling onto the blanket below. More followed it, just silently slipping from the closed eyes.

Gabe sat and watched the display for a couple of seconds before gently scooting forward and wrapping his hands around the man’s jaw and cheek. Jack didn’t fight him for the first time since they met. Ghostly hands, dripping in smoke, brushed over his nose, wiping away the tears, catching Jack as he leaned forward into the man’s hands. And just like that, Jack lost himself in the arms of the man he once loved, quietly crying with their foreheads pressed together.

They stayed like that, two old soldiers pressed together, holding each other through the horrors of the world once again. They were the seawall in the storm, standing strong together, finding faith within each other, weathering everything the world had to beat them down with. Nothing could touch either of them now.

Jack was the one to pull away and carefully wipe the rest of tears away. Cloudy eyes opened again and he could almost detect a smile where Gabe’s lips should be.

“I missed you, Jack Francis Morrison.”

Jack snorted at the use of his middle name. Gabe was the only one, aside from the legal documentation, who knew his full name. A name that he had left behind in Indiana, on a farm in the middle of dusty nowhere, where he wanted nothing more than to escape. Now, the only thing he wanted was to go home, but he wasn’t sure where home even was anymore.

“Ya know, Gabe, you never told me what your middle name was.” Jack laughed a bit, moving past the tender moments of before.

“Don’t have one.” The man shrugged, laughing with him. “Parents never gave me one.”

Jack slowly fell silent, the laughter disappearing from his face as the stitches pulled uncomfortably. “I’m not totally blind. Can see alright with the mask, but when I take it off…” A hand waved in front of his face. “It’s all gone. Just blurry shapes and colors.”

Gabe sat quietly next to him, introspecting, before slowly taking the vigilant’s hands. Jack tensed but didn’t pull away, moving forward with Gabe. Gabe carefully placed Jack’s hands on his chest before letting go, allowing Jack to feel him, to feel the sensation of his body disintegrating and repairing constantly. It took effort for him to maintain the shape of Gabriel; the nanites wanted to simply fall apart into a ghost-like matter, but for now, Gabe would keep the energy up to allow the man to feel him, feel what happened to him.

Jack pulled back a bit, shocked to find the man’s body thrumming beneath his hands. Jack had been with Gabe long enough to understand the full extent of what the super soldier bodies could do, but this was… too much. Frighteningly too much. It felt like there was a buzz of a current, throbbing beneath his touch.

“I’m a monster, Jack.”

“You’re my monster, Gabe.” A wry smirk touched scarred lips. “I still can’t believe you lived.”

“I wasn’t supposed to. It was everything that Moira did, that witch. Suppose I could thank her, but this life isn’t worth thanking her over.”  

The pair fell silent, thinking about what could have been, where they were in life now, and what’s to happen next. Jack would need more help than this, and his face still had to heal before he could go back out there. Gabe wasn’t welcome back with Overwatch, he figured, so the world awaited; after all those who caused the fall of Overwatch were still out there, and they still needed to be punished for what happened.

There was a sound next to him--Jack had fallen asleep. The day’s trauma had finally caught up with him. His body, though super, had faced enough trauma that just the act of relaxing was enough to push him over the edge into unconsciousness.

Gabe laughed in his smoky way and settled in next to him. The old ghost didn’t need to sleep anymore, but it was nice to play the illusion.

                                                         …

Gabe was up before him, having never gone to sleep. Not to be fooled by Jack’s tricks, though, he snatched the mask up from the bedside table, to prevent him from stealing out and leaving while Gabe was making some kind of food.

Minutes later, the sound of panic pulled him from the hot plate where eggs were cooking. Jack was on his feet, hands darting wildly around for his mask, for his only sense of vision that he had left anymore, that was clutched loosely in Gabe’s left hand. Unknowing of where he was in those few seconds, Jack snatched up his rifle from where it had been left, and pointed it squarely at Gabe.

“Where is it?!” There was a mess of red in Gabe’s hand, that could have been the mask. He considered diving for it, but Gabe would react too fast. If only Jack could see.

“Easy Jackie, easy. It’s right here.” Gabe lifted the mask, with the other hand outstretched slowly reaching for the barrel of the impressive weapon. Once he managed to point it toward the ground, Gabe handed Jack the mask back. Even the sensation of snapping the mask back into place relaxed the man some; Gabe was thrown into sharp relief against the light, and Jack felt himself soothed. The gun was replaced on the bed and Jack slowly moved forward, investigating what Gabe was making.

“Why’d you take it?” He asked warily, following the ghost-like shape into the other room.

“I didn’t want you to leave on me; we have to talk about what happens next, after all. And you’re notoriously slippery, Jack.”

“Ha! I always was the sneakier of the two of us.” The joke was light, a stress reliever of sorts.

At that, Gabe laughed out loud. “I was the one leading a covert strike team under cover of darkness and media blackout, and you had a goddamn statue. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

The pair sat down to the eggs that would soon go cold. Neither one of them needed to eat much. For Jack, it meant going without the mask for even longer in order to eat, and that was out of the question for now. His sight was too important for that. But for now, the pair just sat over the quaint breakfast and continued their conversation, desperately yearning for some semblance of normalcy in a world wracked by war and anger.

“What happens next, Jack?” Gabe asked, sipping quietly at his coffee. Unlike Jack, Gabe didn’t mind going without his mask, so long he managed to avoid any reflective surfaces. Watching himself constantly disintegrate and regenerante was not his idea of a good time.

“I don’t know, honestly. Overwatch wants me back, wants us all back. Talon’s been getting too close, and Winston’s already faced them down twice. But at the same time, I don’t know if I can give up all of this.” Jack waved vaguely at the air around him, talking about his current profession of faceless heroism. If he were to step back into the eye of the world--even illegally, as the current Overwatch state was--Jack would be forced back into control, forced to take the helm of a sinking ship. That is, of course, if he revealed his identity. For now, Jack Morrison was enjoying the freedom that being dead gave to him. The thought of losing it scared the hell out of him.

“Heh, yeah. The monkey was always faster than I took him for.” Gabe mumbled softly with a small smirk. “I didn’t want to hurt him. He got in my way, everytime. If he just let me get past him, let me in, I would have taken the information I needed and been on my way.” At Jack’s questioning look, Gabe took another sip of his coffee. “I work independently of Talon. Sure, I work for them occasionally, as a contractor of sorts. Help them get what they need, while they help repair me when the nanites can’t. It’s a trade of power. they don’t have anything on me that I don’t want them to have.”

Jack nodded, quiet for a moment. He was thankful for the return of the mask, so his expression remained anonymous. “I want to go home, Gabi.”

“Me too, Jackie. I miss them.”

“I wonder if they’d accept a couple of old soldiers.”

“Something tells me they’ll take all the help they can get, even from a dead man and a ghost.”

                                                          …

And so they had began their journey back north, to where Overwatch was starting their roots again in the scorched Earth of where the former organization used to tower. Stops came along the way--raids on Talon bases, sidetracked days where they’d hunt down small cells of terrorists and gangs, helping the odd family in crisis, but they always trekked north. Something about it seemed so right; sleeping by day, moving under the cover of darkness at night, but being together and whole and right again.

There’s a Greek myth that humans used to come in pairs, with four arms and legs. Fearing their power, Zeus split these humans in two, dooming them to travel the world, constantly searching for their other half, their soulmate. And though Jack was no longer a religious man, he could understand the myth. He had found his other half.

Jack Morrison and Gabriel Reyes were whole again.

[marmotsomsierost]

(i totally read this backwards at first, so this is instead 'death's family meeting regular mortal's family for the first time')

"Thane!"

"What?!"

He turns to see Suze staring pointedly and angrily at the table to his left where the massive bouquet of mixed yellow roses, white and purple anemones, and eucalyptus was carefully packed and waiting. The operative word being 'was,' as they were...well. Not dead, not yet, but definitely faded. Petals were already littering the burnished wood beneath the arrangement. He turned back to Suze with a wince. "...Sorry, Suze."

"Keep it together! For one dinner! Fuck!"

"Hey, I'm not the one who had to revive their neighbor's dog because she got a phone call from their girlfriend's dad and panicked."

"Oh, you want to star-" Roger stepped between them, folding his arms across his chest. Some variant of this dance had been repeating itself frequently since they'd been invited to dinner with the Huldersons, and he was beyond tired of it.

"I'm not listening to this for the fifth time in three days. Stop freaking out. It's just dinner." Laughter from behind him ruined the stern glower he'd been indulging in to cover his own nerves. Inge leaned out from the mudroom, kicking their boots off behind them as they waved hello, still chortling.

"You should see your faces, it's like a children's book. 'this anthropomorphic personification's smile is too small! this anthropomorphic personification's smile is too angry! this-" They had to dodge a wilted rose and sighed, picking it up off the floor. "C'mon, don't take it out on the flowers. you should've planned for that." They watched the head rise from its droop and the color return with a bit of focus before sticking it carefully through the clip holding their hair.

"Okay, not all of us won the personfication lottery like you did, sue me for thinking Thane could keep his-" Suze broke off in an aggrieved screech. Roger watched in resignation as his siblings once again devolved into a wrestle-slap-fight before turning back to face Inge properly.

"I assume you have some sort of plan, then, since you're over 30 minutes late and not dressed nicely and..." He blinked, looking more closely at their forearms. "...covered in dirt??"

"Yeah, whatever, it'll wash off fast. It took me forever to find some nice enough, it's totally the wrong season."

"For what? More flowers that are just gonna wilt in minutes because Suze is head-over-heels in happiness and none of us want to ruin it for her?"

"Yeah! Wait, no. Not like- hold on." Inge darted back towards the mudroom, returning to thump (gently) a large cardboard box on the table. "Flowers aren't the problem! Cut flowers, that's hard, they're already on borrowed time & highly susceptible to changes in just general environment, much less Thane being moody." Thane paused in his attempt at getting past Suze's curls for optimum noogie-strength to raise a rude gesture their way, leaving an opportunity for Suze to hook a heel around and drop him to the ground.

"That's why I found these!" They said proudly, lifting a shallow earthenware pot out of the box. It was filled with precariously shaped and piled dirt wrapped in some kind of silvery moss. A smallish green shrub stuck up out of the dirt, with five or six small yellow roses in varying stages of blooming tucked between the canes. Inge grinned at the three of them. "See? They're active, right, alive and growing and they've got their own dirt & water & sunlight, so not even Thane could make 'em wilt without actively meaning to. Plus if the Huldersons like 'em they can plant it right in their yard and I know where there's a whole bunch, they can have a whole hedge if they want!"

Suze was staring at the bowl with a bemused frown, distracted enough that Thane was able to shove her off, hopping gracelessly to his feet and straightening up his clothes. "Is that Grandma's lekanis?"

"Yes," Roger answered for Inge, closing his eyes as though that would change the view when he reopened them.

"What? All the pots at the store were too big or too boring or too fancy, and it's not like Grandma ever uses it, especially after she lost the lid. She's not gonna mind."

"Too fancy- Inge, that's almost 2,400 years old!"

"So? It doesn't look it, we've taken great care of it, it's fine." Suze was still staring at it as though it were some potential mimic waiting to eat their faces off. "I thought you'd like it," Inge added, a bit more quietly.

"Inge, that's a wedding gift."

"No, Grandpa bought it for Grandma after the third time they got drunk, ended up on Knossos, and needed rescuing by her parents."

"No, I mean- it's often a wedding gift," Thane explained, "The lekanis, not the roses."

The brief silence that oozed into the room after that sentence felt portentous, at least until Thane made a fist and banged on the wall behind him. "C'mon, Del! Stop eavesdropping! You're leaking again!"

The heaviness to the room cleared abruptly, followed by a muffled "It's not my fault y'all are loud and panicky! Keep your shit together, it's just dinner- which y'all are gonna be late for unless you leave now, there'll be traffic on the bridge."

Four gazes met, briefly united in a different kind of panic, before breaking away in all directions: Inge, to pack the plant back in the box carefully but quickly before grabbing a garment bag and box of wetwipes from the mudroom; Roger, to dash out the door to start the car; Thane, to run for the neoprene carrier containing two bottles of wine and sparkling pomegranate cider; and Suze, to indulge in a brief moment of silent contemplation about running the other direction until she ran out of landmass. Then she considered the level of 'i'm not mad, i'm disappointed'-face she'd get from Livia after she caught up with her, groaned, then flinched as her phone buzzed in her pocket. She fished it out, eyeing it warily until the contact appeared on the screen. Del's roommate? Suze answered it, but before she could speak they were already talking.

"You better get a move on, Del's muttering about yelling out how long til release and in what plot direction the next book in that series you like is gonna go."

"I'm gone, I'm going, I'm-" the line was already silent. Suze booked it out the front door, pausing only to check her reflection in the window on her way out. Thankfully Thane hadn't screwed up her hair too badly- a few swipes with her fingers and the streak was back to being neatly contained, an accent rather than a mad scribble-cloud. It'd be fine.

Assuming nobody realized Inge had stolen roses from the arboretum, again, and sent a basilisk after them. Was that still a thing? No, whatever, it didn't matter! It was just dinner with her girlfriend and her girlfriend's family and her family, like normal people do. In a normal restaurant, in public. With other normal people.

Oh, no.

No. Suze shook her head as she slid into the car, glaring at Thane until he scrambled out of the passenger seat into the back. It was going to be fine.

You’re a regular mortal with a regular family. After a very odd “meet cute,” you’re now dating the anthropomorphic personification of Death. You got to meet their family, and it went really well. Now they’re going to meet yours and they are terrified that they’ll make a bad first impression.

[mikotyzini]

What Defines Us - Ch. 32

Gotta run, but managed to find time to post this morning!  

“Weiss?” Ruby asked as the platform locked in place - her feet giving a little jolt against the ground as it did so.  

Glancing at the new environment, she found that the platform they’d taken into the arena was now a seamless part of the battlefield - which was nothing more than a massive oval covered in large, white tiles that shimmered with hidden energy.  Surrounding them were huge risers that towered into the sky.  The seats of those risers were filled with spectators - most of whom were on their feet as loud cheers rained down to the arena floor - whistles, claps, shouts, and everything in between.  

The seemingly never-ending cheers kickstarted Ruby’s adrenaline and filling her with an urge to fight and be awesome for everyone in attendance.  She was ready to do her best - no matter how good or bad that might be.  

But, she was also confused as heck.  Because why was Weiss here?

Oh.

Well, duh.  Of course Weiss came to take their teammate’s place.  Why had it taken Ruby so long to figure that out?  It was exactly the type of gesture she expected from Weiss - who was, without a doubt, one of the sweetest people in existence.

As her heart swelled with gratitude for the girl standing in front of her, she smiled.  

Who cared if her partner was too busy to make the trip?  Weiss showed up like she always did.  Whenever Ruby needed something, Weiss was there to be supportive or encouraging or just really, really pretty to look at.  Those were only some of the reasons Ruby liked her so much.

And honestly, she’d rather spend time with Weiss anyway.

“You’re gonna fight with us?” she asked, taking a step forward and reaching out.  But this time, unlike all the previous times, Weiss didn’t move closer.  Instead, she stood rigidly in place and never broke Ruby’s gaze.

“Oh look!” one of the announcers shouted from above their heads, making Ruby looked up in surprise to find groups of large speakers placed around the giant arena.  “The whole team’s here!  Put the photo up on the screen, Ren!”

The whole team?

“I’m not in charge of that -”

“Someone put the photo up!  Team RWBY is back!”

What did they mean by the whole team?

“Weiss?” she asked again, taking a step closer only for Weiss to remain fixed in place and nod to something above Ruby’s head - towards the ceiling of the stadium.  Following Weiss’ gaze, Ruby found a video screen hanging high above them with ‘TEAM RWBY’ emblazoned on it for the audience to see - with a video clip playing underneath showing -

The four of them.

Wait, it was RWBY?  Not RUBY?

W...as in, Weiss?

W as in what??

“Yes!  Ok, I wanna do the intro - let me do the intro, Ren!  We have the fiery Yang Xiao Long in yellow, and her feisty partner, Blake Belladonna, in black.  I’ll tell ya - don’t make EITHER of them mad.”

“You would know, Nora…”

A ripple of laughter rolled through the crowd as the announcers’ voices echoed from the loudspeakers.  But Ruby found it just a little bit difficult to focus on what they were saying because...the video...it was kind of showing...

“And thennn we have the super poised Weiss Schnee in white, and her partner, aka team captain extraordinaire - the one, the only, the super speedy, Ruby Roseeeee!”

The crowd erupted in cheers at her name - their applause becoming a wall of movement that blurred together around her.  But what she’d just heard - Weiss Schnee in white.  Her partner -

“This year we’re not giving you guys any cover!” the girl announcer explained before laughing gleefully.  “There’s nowhere to hiiiiideeee!”

“The first round will be Beowolves -”

“And they look hungry!!”

On cue, Beowolves began materializing from thin air around the edge of the circular platform Ruby was standing upon.  Ten, twenty, thirty, forty - too many to count.  The creatures let out growls and howls that sent shivers of anticipation down Ruby’s spine while the crowd gasped.  A large timer appeared on the video screen, counting down from thirty to the beginning of the first round.

Cool, Beowolves, but that was nothing compared to what she’d just learned.  

Even though there were hundreds of Grimm and thousand and thousands of people watching, the only person she cared about was Weiss.  And Weiss was watching her closely - her eyes never leaving Ruby while waiting for a reaction.  On the outside, Weiss looked calm, but Ruby could see that her free hand - the one not clutching Myrtenaster - was trembling.

Glancing up again, Ruby took a good look at the video playing on a loop above their heads.  That was her - and that was Yang - and that was Blake - and that was definitely Weiss…

“I’m sorry I’m late,” Weiss finally called out, raising her voice to be heard over the crowd.  “This wasn’t how I wanted you to find out, but...it took me a while to find the courage to be here.  I hope you can forgive me.”

It was true??  

“Wait,” Ruby said, shaking her head in disbelief.  All the signs pointed at one conclusion, but sometimes it was smart just to come out and bluntly ask.  “You’re our teammate??”

All this time it was Weiss?  But that didn’t make sense!  

Or did it?

Raising Myrtenaster to just below eye level, Weiss gave a tense, sad smile while the audience counted down from five.

“The best teammate you ever had,” she said softly before racing towards the Beowolves when the timer reached two.

Dumbstruck, Ruby turned to Yang for answers or...something.  But Yang just shrugged and tapped Ruby on the shoulder as the timer reached zero and the Beowolves lunged forward in unison.

“Come on, Ruby - let’s show ‘em you haven’t lost a step.”  

Pounding her fists together, Yang raced off to engage the nearest pack of Grimm, leaving Ruby to turn to Blake for advice.

“Fight now, talk later,” Blake recommended before tearing off after Yang.

Fight??  How was Ruby supposed to fight right now??

The first Beowolf to reach her lunged towards her head, but she cut it down in two quick moves.  

“You guys!” she whined as the next Beowolf disappeared just as easily.  Defending herself on autopilot, she searched for Weiss at the other end of the arena.

Weiss.  Her partner.  

Three Grimm leapt towards Ruby at once, forcing her to use her semblance to spin herself in a series of rapid circles that caught them all in her blade.  Without Thorn, that move had been impossible because the force of the motion tore Crescent Rose from her grasp - now it was as easy as eating pie.  

Turning in a half circle, she launched her weapon into a crowd of approaching Beowolves, watched them disappear, then summoned her weapon back to her.  Catching Crescent Rose in one hand, she swept low then high to dispatch a group of Grimm that thought they’d gotten the drop on her.  They hadn’t, obviously, because now they were dead.  Er - or gone.  

Even though this was a simulation, it was lifelike enough to get her adrenaline pumping.  And with her adrenaline pumping, it felt like she was prepared to fight a war on this slick and empty arena floor.

Maybe fighting would be easy.  So what if a bomb had just been dropped on her life?  She could focus on the enemies. That wouldn’t be hard to do, especially with the swarms of fake Beowolves in all directions.  Plus, she loved fighting with Weiss!  Maybe because -

Nope.  Focus, Ruby.  The fight!

Picking a clump of Beowolves, she blasted into them and sliced them to bits in seconds.  More replaced them as soon as they fell, but that only meant there were more for her to kill!

The simulated Grimm looked real - and their movements were real - but when they were destroyed it became obvious this wasn’t real at all.  A cloud of black didn’t disappear into the air like in the wild, but instead the Grimm shattered into shimmering pixels that vanished in far less time.  The effect was actually pretty cool - it was like a shower of silver confetti!

Letting a group of five surround her, she jumped in the air and used her semblance to blast herself in circles - extending Crescent Rose to create a circumference of death.  A shower of silver glitter burst into the air before her feet even touched the ground.

Beowolves were pieces of cake.  Not literally, although that’d be much more scrumptious.  But they were easy to slice through - like butter!  With every jab and pull and spin, more fell.  More replaced them, but then they fell as well.

In a brief interlude, Ruby picked out her teammates to make sure no one needed help.  Blake and Yang were fighting together, and Weiss - Weiss froze a line of eight Grimm to the ground before using a glyph to shoot through them like an arrow.

So cool.  That was Ruby’s partner.  

Oh!  Should she be fighting next to Weiss, like Yang was with Blake?  The plan had been everyone for themselves, but partners stuck together, right?

Spooling up her semblance, she decided that maybe she’d take a lap around the arena and see if Weiss needed any help.  It was pretty obvious that she didn’t, but Ruby could still offer, right?

Crouching her knees before blasting towards the nearest Beowolf, she destroyed it with a single slash of Crescent Rose before continuing in an arcing path that swept her through as many Grimm as possible before nearing the side of the platform Weiss had on lockdown.  

Out of the corner of her eye, Ruby noticed a huge group of Beowolves spawn in the middle of the map and race towards Yang and Blake.  Figuring that her sister had that situation under control, Ruby cut through another Beowolf and flew towards an isolated group of three at full speed.

Lifting Crescent Rose into an attack position, Ruby was just about to take care of this last section of Grimm when they suddenly disappeared - and left Weiss standing in their place.  

Slamming on the brakes, Ruby tried and failed to stop in time - and collided with Weiss instead.  Not hard enough to knock her over or anything!  But hard enough that it was a weird forced hug of sorts.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Ruby mumbled while quickly separating herself from Weiss and blushing profusely.  

That had been a lot of touching…

“It’s alright,” Weiss replied with a blush of her own before briefly turning away and scanning for more enemies - although there were none nearby since she’d just cleaned up the last of them without Ruby’s delayed attempt to help.

After staring at each other for a second too long, they both flinched in surprise when a massive explosion shook the arena.  Turning towards the sound, Ruby watched a giant fireball shooting into the air - taking the rest of the Beowolves with it while a loud chime rang out.  Glancing up, she saw that their countdown timer had stopped as well.

Apparently, the Grimm got a little too close to Yang.

“Kaboom!!  I told you not to make her angry!”

“Er...good job!” Ruby said to Weiss while Blake and Yang regrouped with them for the next stage.  

Wow, she felt awkward.  About as awkward as Weiss currently looked while rubbing at her elbow.

“Thank you…”

Ruby’s focus had been so tunneled in on the Grimm that her attention to the rest of the stadium had faded to the background.  Now that the enemies were gone, the noise of the crowd came back to her ears - cheering and clapping and whistles of appreciation.

“This one time I beat Yang in an arm-wrestling competition.  She was so mad, she pushed over a wall in the cafeteria!”  

“Nora, that was you.”

“I demand a rematch!”

When the crowd laughed, Yang chuckled - her eyes still red from battle as she swung her arms back and forth.  

“How’re you doing?” she asked Ruby.

How was she doing?  Well, there was that whole Weiss thing, but when they only had thirty seconds until the next round started - time that was already ticking away - right now didn’t seem like the best moment to talk about that.

“That was great!” she said instead, focusing on the fight and not all that other stuff.

She’d been worried about making a fool of herself or getting them disqualified in the first round, but they’d made it through no problem!  And now her veins were practically vibrating with energy. So much adrenaline!!  That first round hadn’t been bad either - it was actually pretty easy!

“Team RWBY breezes through round one, as expected.”

“I’d say Team RWBY ‘schneezed’ through round one!”

“No, Nora.  We’re not doing that today.”

“What’s next?” Ruby asked while bouncing on her toes.  She was ready for more pretend Grimm - or something to keep her mind occupied for a bit longer.

Low, dangerous growls were her answer - the deep rumblings causing the crowd to collectively draw in a breath.  Pumping one fist, Yang then pointed over Ruby’s shoulder.  

“Hell yeah!  Ursa!”

On the bright side, at least someone was excited to see the rows and rows of giant, towering Grimm with cinder blocks for paws.  Seriously, their claws were probably longer than Ruby’s arm. Ok, that was an exaggeration, but not by much!

“Those are big…” she muttered to herself, clutching Crescent Rose in anticipation while the Ursa shook their heads and sniffed the air before letting out more growls that sounded really, really angry.  

Big was only a good thing when used to describe pieces of cake or bowls of ice cream.  Big Grimm usually meant powerful Grimm.  And powerful Grimm meant hard to kill Grimm.

“They’re clumsy and slow.”

Turning to her right, Ruby was surprised to find Weiss standing near her elbow.  Not too close, but close enough that it would look like they were standing together to an outside observer.  

Because they were standing together!  And why was it surprising that Weiss was here?  Of course she was here!  She’d come to fight with Ruby, just like Ruby wanted.  

But she’d also wanted to meet her partner - which she’d already done like forever ago when Weiss showed up at dinner.

Ugh.  This was so confusing.

“Uh, well I hope so!” Ruby replied, sparing a quick glance towards the rapidly disappearing time until the potentially-deadly Grimm decided standing around wasn’t fun anymore.  

Turning to the side, Weiss gave Ruby a small smile.

“Use your semblance to get behind them, and you’ll be just fine.  Promise.”

Wow, that was super easy.  With one simple promise, Weiss wiped most of Ruby’s nerves away.  Of course, she already knew how Ruby should handle the Grimm because - yeah, nevermind that for now.  Use her semblance, get behind them. Sounded like a piece of cake!

“Thank you, Weiss!” she replied with a grin.  Her gratitude was genuine, but Weiss responded with only a half smile before turning her full attention to the Ursa horde in front of them.  

If the Ursa were clumped together like this, that probably meant that as soon as the round started…

When a chime rang out, the Ursa did exactly what Ruby expected - meaning they all charged forward as one giant wall of angry Grimm.  One Ursa was intimidating...this army was formidable, to say the least.

“I’ll keep their attention.  You guys get behind ‘em!” Yang shouted over the growls and thumps of stampeding feet.

She had no idea how Yang was going to ‘keep their attention’ by herself, but she trusted that her sister knew what she was doing.  Seeing no other options, Ruby did what Weiss suggested - searching for an opportunity to sprint through the oncoming Grimm.  Her eyes were glued to the incoming horde while looking for a sliver of an opening that she could burst through without getting caught between two or more Ursa.  The opening didn’t have to be very big.  It only needed to be enough for her to slip through - there!

Darting forward, she squeezed her way through the first two rows of Ursa before skipping to the side when the Grimm in back blocked her original path.  For the briefest of moments, she was stuck in the center of a deadly mass of claws and glowing red eyes, but the back rows presented an alternate path that she took without hesitation.  Brushing past several Ursa, almost knocked off balance by several more, she managed to make it through unharmed.  

Well, almost unharmed.  Their awful stench hurt her nose!  That was one added bit of realism she could’ve gone without.  The sounds were great and the designs were awesome, but did they really have to add the smells?

The second she found fresh air, she slammed Crescent Rose into the ground and propelled herself through a quick about-face.  Tightening Thorn when the momentum attempted to separate her from her weapon, she released perfectly and kicked up her feet as she flew forward - drilling into an unsuspecting Ursa’s back.  At the speed she was going, there was enough force in the blow to knock the Ursa into the one in front - three of them colliding and tumbling to the ground like bowling pins. Strike!  

Huh...maybe it’d be cool to have drills or some kind of weapon in the bottom of her boots to do more damage!  

One of the Ursa in the back of the crowd noticed her, so there was no time to think through that idea before engaging the creature.  As expected, Weiss’ advice was spot on - they were slow and kind of dumb.  Ruby was a lot faster.  

Ducking under a huge paw flying towards her head, she burst behind the Ursa so quickly that it nearly tumbled to the ground just trying to track her movement.  WIth the creature off balance and exposed, it only took five perfectly-placed blows to send silver sprinkles into the air.

That was her first real-fake Ursa kill!

Most of the Grimm had continued to Yang, who was managing to hold them at bay while Weiss, Blake, and Ruby thinned them out from behind.  She had no idea how Blake and Weiss had gotten through the horde, but they must’ve catapulted over somehow.  Could they jump that far?  Blake probably could.

Solving that mystery would have to wait because what mattered right now was killing Grimm as fast as possible.  That was definitely something Ruby could do!  And, since they were only simulations, she didn’t need to be concerned about her health!  Well, she should be a little worried...she didn’t want to get knocked out of the round by doing something stupid, but for the most part she could fly around killing Grimm with everything she had!

One Ursa, two Ursa, three Ursa, four.  Distracted by Yang, the big Grimm were surprisingly easy to get rid of, and their ranks dwindled by the second.

Now Ruby understood how Yang planned to hold their attention - by allowing them to surround her then relying on her strength to physically push them back.  It seemed just a little dangerous, but she was handling it ok so far!  Plus, at the rate they were moving - with Blake and Weiss knocking down one Ursa after the next - Yang only needed to hold out a little longer...

In the middle of zipping around, then through, another Ursa, Ruby suddenly felt her feet skip unnaturally across the ground while hearing a weird clank-ing noise beneath them.  

What the heck was that?

“Ruby!” Blake shouted over the sound of Ursa growls before ducking underneath a paw.  “The arena’s going to spin!  Hold onto something!”

“Spin?”  

That didn’t make any sense, but Ruby still tried to search for something while also dodging a huge set of claws hurtling towards her head.  What was there to hold onto though?  The entire platform was nothing but flat, white, super-smooth panels.

In crazy unison, her teammates all skipped away from the Ursa - Yang jumping and planting both feet into a poor Ursa’s face before propelling herself out of the crowd.  Blake immediately plunged Gambol into the ground while Yang landed a safe distance away and punched her arm through the floor.  Weiss used Myrtenaster to create her own lever to hold onto.

By the time Ruby thought to use Crescent Rose, her feet had flown out from underneath her and she hit the floor - sticking her arms out at the last instant to soften her fall and keep her from potentially breaking her jaw.  The remaining Ursa had also fallen over - not that it mattered because the next second she was sailing off the edge of the arena towards the risers filled with people.

The Ursa instantly disappeared once they slipped from the platform, but Ruby wasn’t bound by whatever program ran the show.  Nope.  She flew right towards the crowds - until an ice white glyph appeared directly in her path. Without thinking, she spun, planted her boots squarely on the glyph, and rocketed back to the arena.

Just like the grapes had done!

And, just like the grapes, she was now shooting entirely-too-fast towards the still-spinning platform.  

She tried to stick the landing, but all she ended up doing was tumbling forward before sliding towards the other edge of the arena.  With no leverage to use Crescent Rose, she tightened Thorn’s fingers - causing an awful screeching sound to rip through the air until the reinforced metal broke through the floor panels and stuck tight.  Locking Thorn in place, she hung on until the world finally slowed to a stop.

Of course, her world was still spinning when she got to her feet.  After taking one wobbly step forward, she stopped and leaned on Crescent Rose for balance.  Her ears were still working though!  Fine enough that she could hear applause over the sound of one of the announcers giggling.

“They had NO idea that was coming!”

“Ruby almost flew into the stands, but got last-second help from her partner.”

Upon hearing the word, Ruby immediately sought out Weiss - finding that she was walking over to join them.  Each step looked like it was measured, as if she was trying not to stumble like Ruby knew she would if she tried to walk right now.  Blake was walking normally, of course, but her balance was crazy good. And Yang was stumbling, but she made it to Ruby first.

“Should’ve known it wouldn’t be that easy,” Yang huffed while dusting debris from her hand.

“That’s probably what got the first team,” Blake added before her eyes drifted up to the clock and then back to Yang.  “We need to be ready for it to happen again. Or else Ruby will get to say ‘hello’ to her fans.”

“I mean, that’s fine with me!  But I’d rather no land in someone’s nachos!” Ruby answered before laughing and turning to a rather silent Weiss.  “Thanks for the assist, Weiss.  You really saved me there!”

“Of course, Ruby,” Weiss answered with a smile and small nod.

“This is pretty easy!” Ruby observed, avoiding that topic while swinging Crescent Rose from side-to-side.  “I kinda thought we’d get knocked out already!”

“The first two rounds are usually easy.  This is where it gets interesting.”

As Blake spoke, two giant creatures began to form on the arena floor - one on either side of them.  Coiled like garden hoses, the Grimm grew larger and larger by the second.  Their identity was revealed when unmistakable forked tongues, huge fangs, and red eyes appeared.  Ruby’s own eyes followed the snakeheads as they rose high into the air, towering above the arena floor and weaving back and forth while locking onto her and her teammates as prey.

“Oh...my...god…” she breathed out.  

It was a King Taijitu.  Two of them. And they were huge.  Like really, really, really huge.

“Ohhh Ruby loves these!”  

Ruby turned towards the speakers - the source of the commentary - before looking back at the snake in front of her.   

“I don’t think so…” she muttered to herself.  

How could she possibly love these things?  They made her skin crawl.  And look at them!  There was nothing lovable about them.  Ursa were kind of cuddly, like bears.  Beowolves had the whole ‘somewhat relatable to dogs in a weird way’ thing going on.  King Taijitus had none of that. They were scaley, and big, and had two freaking heads!

“Split up?” Yang suggested, looking to Ruby for approval.  “You guys take one - Blake and I take the other?”

When Ruby numbly nodded, Yang grinned and slapped her on the back of her shoulder.  A little hard, but that was only because Yang was so amped up right now.

“We’ll take the left!”

“They’re fast.  Be careful,” Blake added before turning towards the left King Taijitu with Yang.

“Goooo Ruby!  Tie ‘em in knots!”

The chime sounded, the round started, and Ruby watched the snakes slither forward.  But they approached far more cautiously than the Ursa or Beowolves had.  So...they were bigger, faster, and smarter.

Eh, so that confidence she’d just been feeling was now gone!

“They’re fast, but you’re faster,” Weiss said quietly while they watched and waited.  “You can do this, Ruby.”

Without another word, Weiss slid smoothly to one side, drawing the attention of the white snake’s head.  The black snake remained focused on Ruby - unnervingly, unblinkingly focused.  When she took a step to one side, the head moved with her.  Moving to the other side, again it followed.  Unlike the Ursa and Beowolves, this Grimm was waiting for her to attack first.  It wasn’t going to throw itself at her willy-nilly - it was strategizing as much as she was.

Which was interesting.  That meant she’d have to outthink it.  This wasn’t just plowing through Grimm fodder - this was a game of who’s smarter.  That did make this a bit more fun than the first two rounds - strategery was always fun!

When Weiss was in place on the opposite side of Ruby, the King Taijitu stopped moving with both heads trained on them.  They were standing just outside of where the snakes could lash out and reach them.  At least, she hoped they were standing far enough away.

But time was wasting away.  They needed to get this done fast, but she didn’t want to rush into anything and get destroyed!  The sound of shotgun blasts rang out from behind her, interspersed with rapid bullets and an occasional hiss of anger while the crowd cheered in earnest.  Yang and Blake had just engaged their King T. - now it was time for Ruby to stop waiting!

Tie them in knots...actually, that was a good idea.  If they were fast, maybe they were too fast.  That was a problem she had a lot of the time.  That’s why she ran into stuff a lot (at least, that’s the excuse she used).

With red eyes trained on her, she began jogging in a slow circle around the beast.  The eyes followed as the head swiveled to track her progress.  The white snake’s head hardly acknowledged her when she passed behind Weiss, but the black snake trailed her the entire time.  Perfect.

Picking up the pace for the next lap and moving within striking distance, Ruby kept a lookout for the incoming attack out of the corner of the eye.  Another lap was made without incident, so she moved even closer and hoped that Weiss understood what she was trying to do. The bait had to be perfectly timed…

Fangs suddenly shot out towards her - faster than she’d expected, but thankfully not fast enough that she couldn’t blast forward out of the way.  The King Taijitu flew past behind her and immediately turned to follow as she raced towards Weiss.  

Right on cue - even though there’d been no cue - Weiss feinted forward and taunted the white head into an attack.  When it flashed forward, both of them dove out of the way and the two heads collided together with a smack.  Rolling back to her feet, Ruby briefly smiled when the sound of laughter reached her ears - but there wasn’t time for much else as the giant snake struggled to reorient itself, shaking both heads and hissing in very loud, very scary anger.

“Don’t give it time!” Weiss shouted while sending streams of red Dust towards the eyes to prevent them from locking on again.  Nodding, Ruby raced towards the creature at its nearest point to her - prepared to attack.

That’s when she heard it again - a clank as her feet stuttered against the ground.  

This time she reacted instantly, slamming Crescent Rose into the ground and locking Thorn in place as the floor suddenly spun in the opposite direction as before.  This instance was much shorter than the first, and she released herself the second the platform stopped - timing it perfectly and propelling herself straight towards the white King Taijitu with Crescent Rose raised in greeting.  The Grimm jerked backward as she slashed at it - making her miss by mere inches before her feet jumped again.

Leaping away as a set of fangs whipped past her ear, she waited until the last possible second to plant Crescent Rose in the ground as the arena spun - using the momentum to swing herself around and launch herself back to the creature the instant she’d lined up the perfect trajectory.  

The arena was still in motion - the King Taijitus ducking their heads while spinning in a rapid circle - and Ruby was now flying through the air as one of the creatures unwittingly approached her path.  

A matter of milliseconds before they collided together, one red eye locked onto her and immediately attacked.  A giant mouth snapped towards her - jaws open, fangs fully extended.

Drawing Crescent Rose back, she flung the weapon forward and watched it slice through the soft, exposed skin of the Grimm’s inner mouth.  Immediately recalling her weapon, a second blow was delivered from behind as Crescent Rose shot back to her and a last-second blast of ice shoved the white head to the side before she ended up inside its mouth.  

As the white side of the King Taijitu began to fall, Ruby caught Crescent Rose and spun in the air to strike out at the black head pursuing her while she fell to the ground.

At least she’d been planning to attack, but a white blur shot through the snake’s head from below and sent a shower of silver in the air as Ruby landed and slid a step backward before everything came to a complete stop.  A few seconds later, Weiss dropped from the sky and landed in a crouch with Myrtenaster still at the ready.

She looked so cool.  Like a huntress from the movies or something.  It was rude to stare, but Ruby couldn’t help it.  Weiss was so poised and pretty and awesome!

After briefly glancing at Ruby, Weiss turned to the other side of the arena.  Ruby’s gaze followed to find that the other Grimm was already half crippled and had somehow gotten one of its fangs stuck in Yang’s grasp.  While it struggled to escape, Blake sent a flurry of blows to cut it down.  In a matter of seconds, she must’ve hit the beast hundreds of times - and she could’ve done even more if it hadn’t disappeared in a cloud of glitter an instant later.

But they were done.  They’d done it!  The crowd was cheering and everything!

“That wasn’t so bad!” she told Weiss, both of them breathing a little heavily from exertion.  When Weiss smiled in return, this time it was a real smile.

“I knew you could do it.”

“Not without you!  Teamwork!”  Giving a little hop of joy and a grin, for a split second it felt like nothing had changed.  It wasn’t until Yang and Blake rejoined them that Ruby remembered that tiny little bombshell from a few minutes ago.  But this was still awesome and fun!  And she was glad Weiss was here versus some stranger.  Plus, they made a good team - what with Weiss pretty awesomely taking out that King Taijitu right when Ruby had caused enough distraction that it was vulnerable.

“Team RWBY has little problem with the arena this time - dispatching those King Taijitus easily.”

“They need to spin the floor faster!  Can they do that?  Can I be in charge of that?”

“For the safety of our contestants, I’m going to say no -”

“Oh nevermind, I thought of one!  The ‘RW’ part of Team RWBY will make you ‘rue’ the day you messed with them!”  

“Really, Nora?”

“This is fun!” Ruby said, bouncing up and down while the announcers bantered and the clock rapidly ticked down to the next round.  Not having any type of cover was a little weird but made things more interesting.  And the spinning was actually pretty cool now that she knew when it would happen!  Plus, the simulated Grimm were just awesome in general.  Could they get one of these things in their backyard?  She wanted to fight Grimm at home!  That’d be the best thing ever!  Although it might freak the neighbors out...

“Ren, I’ve been wondering - could they ‘BY’ anymore ferocious?”

“Alright - time for round four.”

“How do you think we’re doing on time?” Yang asked while glancing at the clock, slightly breathless.

“We’re not going to have much left.”

“Damn.  What’s next?  I wasn’t paying attention.”

Yang was still speaking when their next enemies materialized on one end of the arena.  The yellow stingers held high in the air immediately gave the creatures away - Death Stalkers - a lot of them.  Big ones, too.  As soon as they were fully formed, their claws clacked together in anticipation while they shuffled side-to-side on those strange rows of tiny legs.  A few whipped their stingers forward like they were warming up - the speed enough to send an audible snap through the air. Their thick armor plating was pristinely white and marked with veins of glowing red.  

Almost too perfectly marked, but that didn’t make them any less intimidating.  They were big.  And something about that clacking sound made Ruby’s stomach turn.

“Weiss…” Yang said, her voice carrying that same warning tone Ruby recognized from whenever she was thinking about doing something stupid.

“You’ve got them,” Weiss replied, lowering Myrtenaster while Blake and Yang flew across the field when the chime rang out.  Ruby watched in dumbfounded awe as the Death Stalkers tried to swarm and collapse on the two girls, but between Yang’s fists beating them back and Blake’s shadow clones and ribbon twisting Yang about, the Grimm could never get a drop on the pair.

The crowd roared when Yang grabbed ahold of one of the stingers and Blake seamlessly separated it from the creature before Yang slammed it into another.

But while they were fighting, Weiss seemed perfectly content to stay on the far side of the arena.  Which was confusing. Why would Weiss want to stay here? Ruby wanted in on the action!  Her adrenaline was still running full force, but she also didn’t feel like she could leave Weiss’ side.  They were partners!  In every sense of the word!

Undecided, Ruby turned back and forth several times while weighing her options.  They were running out of time, but Weiss wasn’t moving!  Leave her here and help Blake and Yang?  Or stay here until Weiss decided to move?

“You want to go?” Weiss finally asked, turning towards Ruby with a knowing expression.

“Uh...yeah, kinda,” she answered honestly.  There were Grimm to be killed, and she wanted to do the killing.

Nodding, Weiss placed her palms together and briefly closed her eyes.  A glyph spun around her feet before swirling into the air in between them; another one appeared further away towards the Death Stalkers.  When Weiss opened her eyes and looked at Ruby, it was with eyes clearer than she’d ever seen.

“Want to try something new?”  

There was a hint of a smile on Weiss’ lips as she tilted her head towards the glyph.  Grinning at the invitation, Ruby bent her knees, spooled her semblance, and rocketed towards it.  

Weiss’ glyphs were like beautiful works of art with so many hidden secrets.  What Ruby knew about them was that they could bounce grapes really well, kept her from flying into crowds of people, and allowed Weiss to move around like she was on skates.

Now it was time to find out what they could really do!

Leaping through the air as she approached the first glyph, she tucked her legs and spun around to land her feet squarely in the center.  Bouncing off, her speed increased - like finding a nice, smooth patch of ice to slide across...only ten times better.

Quickly understanding the potential, she pushed her semblance harder towards the next glyph Weiss had created - this one leading Ruby directly to the nearest Death Stalker.  This time as she spun and planted her boots firmly on the glyph, she pulled Crescent Rose in front of her while preparing to strike.  

The poor, poor Grimm never saw the attack coming.  It was only after Ruby flew past and struck out with Crescent Rose that the creature lashed out at her with its stinger, but she was already headed in the opposite direction thanks to the second glyph Weiss had prepared.  Another attack, and another.  It took five total blows to the creature’s underbelly before it disappeared in silver confetti.  

And that was Ruby’s first real-fake Death Stalker kill!  Courtesy of Weiss Schnee, the incredible glyph-maker.

There was no time to rest though - because Ruby was already blazing towards the next closest Grimm.  Bouncing between Weiss’ glyphs like a super fast pinball, Ruby sliced and diced the Death Stalkers wherever she saw the chance.

With Weiss guiding the way, Ruby never had to think about where to go next - the only thing she had to do was find the next glyph, which Weiss had already placed in the perfect location.

And Ruby was flying.  So fast.  Her semblance was spraying rose petals like a fire hose sprayed water.  Really, how was Weiss even able to track anything at this speed?  She must have some crazy fast mental reflexes.

Crazy fast and crazy perfect.  The Death Stalkers never even came close to touching Ruby, but she got close to them!  Their unarmored underbelly was ordinarily tricky to get to, but at the pace she was going there were inevitably opportunities that opened up - like when they raised up in the air and tried to snatch her with their giant claws.  Precisely at moments like those, Weiss zipped Ruby down to the ground and flew her underneath for several deadly blows before whisking her away.

This must be how Yang felt using Blake’s ribbons - the ability to change directions on a dime was awesome and so helpful!  Plus, there was this...trust might be the best word.  Trusting that Weiss was making the best strategic decision from afar, all Ruby had to worry about was what was directly in front of her.  

Attack, get to the next glyph, attack.  It was so easy.  Maybe that was one of the reasons having a partner was so awesome.

For every destroyed Grimm, the crowd cheered - loud enough to briefly break through Ruby’s concentration as a tiny blip on her radar.  Knowing that people were watching only made her want to be even better and go even faster.

Now she understood what Yang had been walking about - they were here to impress!  They were here to show how skilled they were so that everyone could sleep at night.  Have no fear - huntsmen were here!

Spurring her semblance into an even higher gear, Ruby pinged through the glyphs like she was on fire - destroying Death Stalkers in the process.  The angles Weiss chose were perfect.  Some were clever; others were straight genius.  A lot of them Ruby wouldn’t have seen from so close to the battle, but Weiss saw each tiny window and sent Ruby to exploit it.  The gaps were sometimes microscopic, but they were quick, efficient, and deadly.  

Halfway between two Death Stalkers, something caught Ruby’s attention out of the corner of her eye.  When the crowd collectively drew its breath, she knew it was something worth watching.  

Risking a peek towards the shape, her jaw dropped as a giant soldier formed out of thin air - towering above the arena with his massive sword clutched in one hand.  His white armor shimmered majestically, while his posture was poised and ready for whatever would be thrown his way.  

Ronnie - the name Blake suggested.  It made Ruby grin just to see him - with his goofy, not-at-all scary name.  He was still the coolest thing she’d ever seen.  

Suddenly, the glyphs rotated and led Ruby directly toward the soldier, whizzing past Grimm and drawing more and more attention as she went.  The creatures turned and snapped out at her, but never caught more than air and maybe a few petals left in her dust.  There was a strong urge in her chest to keep engaging the Grimm, but she trusted Weiss and followed the glyphs anyway.  With a tumbling horde of skittering feet on her heels, she was bringing a small army of the Death Stalkers directly to Weiss’ soldier.  He was going to do something cool, right?  Had to be.

As she approached, running straight towards him at full speed, he bent down on one knee and held one giant palm open for her.  Not even blinking, she hit the brakes and slid right into his hand. Now, running into the clutches of a giant wasn’t usually recommended, but this was Weiss!  Er, Ronnie! Ruby trusted both of them completely.

The next second, her feet were jerked from the ground, and she was given a light toss back the way she’d just come.  ‘Light toss’...it sent her soaring at least fifty feet above the ground while Ronnie smoothly stood and took a wide swing at the Death Stalkers underneath her feet.  Twisting her body around in midair, Ruby saw that she was going to land behind the Grimm - whose attention was now solely drawn to Weiss’ soldier.  

They’d lost track of Ruby flipping behind them.  Brilliant.

Landing in a crouch and sliding several feet backward before coming to a stop, Ruby hardly had time to straighten before two blurs shot past her.  With the Death Stalkers preoccupied, Blake and Yang were taking advantage of the weakness.  

And Ronnie served as an excellent distraction - absorbing the Death Stalker’s attacks similar to what Yang had done with the Ursa.  The Grimm tried to crowd around him, snapping their stingers forward like whips while clambering over each other to try to catch him in their grasp.

Bursting forward with her semblance, Ruby caught up to Yang and Blake - then the three of them plowed into the Death Stalkers from behind.  By the time the creatures noticed them, it was already too late.

Or it would have been too late if Ruby hadn’t suddenly felt a great weight press down on her shoulders, nearly forcing her to the floor.

Without warning, the arena shot straight up into the air - the upward momentum nearly plastering her and her teammates to the ground with a slew of Death Stalkers slowly turning towards them.  

As abruptly as the feeling had appeared, it disappeared.  The weight vanished, and suddenly Ruby was floating - her feet leaving the ground as she was left suspended in midair.  Briefly looking around, she found that they were outside of the arena now - high enough that she could see all of Beacon’s grounds in the distance.

Weightlessness only lasted for a second before she was falling - chasing the arena floor back to its starting point.  That’d be all well and good if she was falling by herself, but the Death Stalkers were still close - close enough that they could lash out with their stingers.

Lifting Crescent Rose to deflect a stinger that shot towards her, she was surprised to see a glyph appear in front of her at the last second.  The Death Stalker slammed its stinger into the glyph at full speed and shot it backward at itself.  

So...she was hurtling towards the ground at terminal velocity, but the Grimm was now disoriented from hitting the glyph.  There was no way she could pass an opportunity like this up.

Clutching Thorn around Crescent Rose, she drew back and threw the weapon as hard as she could towards the creature - making sure to account for the upward wind speed and her lack of leverage.  The blade sliced through the air and hit the Death Stalker exactly where she’d placed it, succeeding in separating the stinger from the end of the tail.

When a glyph appeared near her feet, she immediately shoved off of it and went flying after her weapon while tapping out the code to recall it.  Seamlessly catching Crescent Rose before latching onto a piece of the Death Stalker’s armor with Thorn, she attacked in rapid succession to dispatch the creature.

Meanwhile, to her side, she watched Blake rope one of the Death Stalkers and pull herself to it - fluidly looping around the stinger as it tried to attack before tugging Yang after her.  When the two dismantled the Death Stalker and moved to the next one in the same fashion, Ruby grinned.

They didn't even need to be on the ground to be awesome.

Her own feet found another of Weiss’ glyphs and sent her shooting to another Death Stalker, where she was surprised but also excited to meet up with Weiss.  Weiss deflected the stinger with Myrtenaster before Ruby followed up as fast as she possibly could - throwing herself off of the creature while hooking Crescent Rose around its tail and yanking her weapon free.  

Another glyph bounced her away from danger as the other Death Stalkers attempted to spear her, but...the ground was rushing up to greet them pretty quickly now…

“Look down, Ruby - get ready!” Weiss shouted as they re-entered the stadium.  Doing as she was told, Ruby looked down at the arena and watched as four glyphs swirled into existence.

Out of reach of the Grimm, Ruby watched as they plummeted towards the glyphs.  Timing her drop as best she could, she crouched her knees and felt her legs sink in, as if stepping into pudding or molasses.  Almost immediately after, she shot back up into the air - whereas the Death Stalkers continued their descent and crashed into the arena in a heap of Grimm that quickly became a hurricane of silver sparkles.

Except for one.

Dropping to the ground from a much more manageable height after using the glyph, Ruby found the sole remaining Death Stalker dazed and disoriented by the fall - which it had only survived by landing on the backs of its former companions.

“I got it,” Blake said before sprinting towards their last foe.  When Yang obediently stayed behind, Ruby did too.  

They watched the creature swipe at Blake, hitting nothing but clone.  Its tail struck out at another before it swung its entire body to the side trying to pinpoint Blake’s position.  Nothing but clone, clone, and more clone.  

Suddenly, there were a lot of them.  More and more clones appeared and disappeared in rapid succession around the Death Stalker.  Soon there were so many that the Grimm was blocked from view - the only thing they could see was a massive growing cyclone of spinning clones and darting blades.

A flash of silver and the shadows instantly disappeared, leaving only Blake standing on the arena floor where the Death Stalker had once been.  While the crowd cheered, she gave Yang a smug look that clearly said, ‘There.  Was that good enough for you?’

“Wow,” was all Ruby could think to say.  She’d never seen so many shadow clones before!  

Yang let out a laugh that was part surprise, part pure glee.

“I’m so in love with that girl,” she said before bounding off to join her partner.

“A clonado, Ren!!  That was awesome!!”

“That was very well done.”

“Oh lighten up poo-poo head!  That was one of the coolest things we’ve seen!”

The announcers were right about that!  A tornado of clones!  

Watching Yang lift Blake off the ground, it was out of the corner of her eye that Ruby noticed Weiss walk up beside her.

“That was pretty cool, huh?” she asked, her breathing slightly labored from the energy expended that last round.  Weiss nodded but didn’t say anything while watching Yang and Blake celebrate.    

“Your glyphs too - those are awesome,” Ruby added, but Weiss only gave a small smile at the compliment.  

“I’m glad you like them,” she replied with a slight dip of her head.

Urg...were things going to be this awkward forever?  It felt like everything was ok there for a second, but now it was all weird again!  Hopefully this wasn’t going to last for long.  They were almost out of time, and then they could talk.  They probably needed to talk.

“As usual, speed isn’t an issue for Team RWBY.  They have ten seconds left for the final round…”

“They’ve already blazed past the other teams here today!  Get it?  Blazed?  Ren, you get it, right?”

“There will be one announcer’s position open after this, if anyone would like it.”

“Awww don’t be like that!”

While Blake and Yang jogged over, something began to form at one end of the arena - and it didn’t take long for Ruby to figure out that it wasn’t any type of Grimm she’d seen before.  For one thing, there was no black!  It was almost entirely silver and kept getting bigger and bigger and bigger…

“Wow.”  

That was all Blake had to say, which was a pretty appropriate reaction to what they were looking at.

“That’s big,” Weiss agreed with a nod.

It looked like a beefed up Paladin, with far more armor than necessary.  Like way too much armor.  And the guns - sweet Dust, the guns.  The rockets alone were enough to destroy multiple skyscrapers, but machine gun turrets too?  That was way overkill.  And were those grenade launchers??

It looked like someone had crawled into Ruby’s imagination and dragged out the most insane contraption of firepower imaginable.  It probably couldn’t move very well because of all the armor, but that wouldn’t matter with the damage it could spray in what looked like every direction.

“That thing looks awesome!  I wanna fight it!”

“Maybe later, Nora…”

A loud whirring noise filled the air as the turrets began to spin, combined with several clunking sounds of rockets being loaded into launching bays.

“What do we do, boss?” Yang asked, turning to Ruby for an answer.

Trying to come up with a plan, Ruby looked up at the video screen.  When the round started, they’d have ten seconds. That wasn’t much time at all.  Their only option was something drastic.  And fast.

Sizing up the machine, she said the first thing that came to mind.  Usually those were the worst, and therefore best ideas.

“Split him in half!”  

Clenching one fist, she gestured up in the air before drawing a line to Yang’s arm.  All three of her teammates looked at her like she was absolutely crazy until Yang started laughing.

“You know, that just might work,” she replied with a couple nods of appreciation.

“He’s all yours,” Blake said, smiling and standing back.  After pounding one fist into her palm, Yang set herself into a fighting stance.

“I’m ready for him.  Weiss, you ready?”

A line of glyphs appeared - marking a straight shot to their last enemy - and Weiss nodded.  Crouching down like a sprinter, Ruby ignored the sounds of the machine preparing to fire and instead listened to the crowd counting down to zero.  Every fiber in her body was ready to send her shooting forward as fast as possible.

If this didn’t work, oh well.  At least they’d tried!

Five!

Four!

Three!

Two!

One!

The instant the chime rang out, Ruby took the line of glyphs like she had rockets strapped to her boots.  Traveling in a straight line, she opened up her semblance and pushed herself as fast as she could go.  She needed to be faster than...well, bullets, basically.  Which she was.  

With Weiss’ glyphs giving her an extra bit of propulsion, she made it to the machine before the glowing rocket tubes were even able to fire.  There was a loud pop when she slammed Crescent Rose deep into metal and jumped with everything she had, using the glyph under her feet to launch herself into the air.  The crowd noise seemed to die away as she used her semblance to carry her up as far as she could, feeling the enormous weight of the machine dragging behind her.  

As her momentum faded, she reached the tipping point.  Again, she found that feeling of weightlessness as she briefly hung suspended above the stadium, but gravity quickly kicked in.  Rotating her grip and locking Thorn around Crescent Rose, she flipped around to face the ground and used every last bit of energy she had left to propel herself downward.  The added force dug her weapon deeper into the machine’s plating and cemented its impending demise.  With her semblance maxing out, she steadily gained speed while the ground rushed up to greet her.

“Ember One, this is Ember Two - coming in hot -” she murmured while exhausting the remnants of her semblance.

With a giant monster in tow, she leveled off the angle and tapped her last bit of reserves to burst forward across the arena floor.  She didn’t need to see where Yang was - she knew that her sister would be there as she dragged the machine at supersonic speed straight into a burning fist.  

It was like a freight train crashing into the wall of a mountain.

There was another loud pop as Crescent Rose suddenly broke free, and Ruby immediately hit the brakes - finally sliding to a stop on the far side of the arena.  The crowd was back; the people in front of her had their jaws dropped before they were on their feet clapping - the sound adding to the cheers going up throughout the packed stadium.

Turning around, she found one half of the machine lying where it had stopped dead at Yang’s feet, while the other half lay smoldering between them.

But that actually worked!  How ‘bout that??

“Wow.”

“That was INCREDIBLE!  Did you see that, Ren?  Did you see that??”

“I don’t think anyone actually saw it, Nora -”

“Imagine it then!  That was so cool!  One second, it’s there.  The next second it’s split in half!  Welcome back, Ruby!  We’ve missed your crazy self!!”

They’d done it!

When her ears picked up the crowd cheering for them, Ruby grinned.  “RWBY, RWBY, RWBY!” they chanted over and over again while her heart pounded in the same rhythm.  Spinning in a slow circle to look at the wall of spectators, she raised her gloved hand in a wave before her eyes fell back to her teammates.  Her team.

Beaming proudly, Yang raised one fist to Ruby in a ‘success’ gesture.  Walking up beside Yang, Blake placed one hand on her partner’s shoulder before giving Ruby a small smile, ears twitching happily.  And Weiss...Weiss watched Ruby carefully.  When they made eye contact, she smiled hesitantly, closed her eyes, and gave Ruby a half curtsy.

There was no good way to describe how she felt right now, as the chants of the crowd reverberated in her chest and her teammates stood in front of her.  Ecstatic.  Happy. Elated.  All those good things, but it also felt like something was stirring inside of her.  It felt familiar...like maybe she’d been here before.  Like maybe this feeling of success wasn’t as foreign as it should be.  

What Blake had said was true - Ruby could feel it.  She’d made it back.  Maybe these were only simulated enemies, but they were programmed to be lifelike in their difficulty.  Maybe this had been a controlled environment where she’d never been in any real danger, but she’d still managed not to make a fool of herself, and they’d finished all five rounds in the process.

She could do this.  She could be a huntress.  It had been her goal for such a long time, and she’d finally reached it.  The early mornings, the late nights, the endless training and physical therapy.  All the times she’d been so tired and sore she could hardly move.  All the times she’d been so frustrated she wanted to give up for good.  Somehow she’d found a way through all of that, back to this moment.

She’d once been a huntress, and she could be one again.  She could get back a part of what she’d lost.

But when her eyes were drawn back to Weiss, she felt a strange pull at her heart - one that was stronger than the cheers lifting her up.

Weiss - the mysterious stranger who’d shown up out of the blue.  The girl who’d quickly found a way into Ruby’s heart. Weiss was her partner.

All this time, Ruby never even tried to find her partner - not until the perfect opportunity had presented itself.  Still, how had she been so blind?  

In her defense, she didn’t have much information about her partner other than she was supposedly super smart, which Weiss was.  Nothing had been said about how sweet and kind she was.  Or how funny or how pretty she was. Or how when she smiled, it felt like the sun started shining no matter what the weather was.  And if she laughed -  

Oh crap.  

Ruby had a crush on her partner.

[captainderyn]

“I know I say this a lot, but…I love you.”

Thank you for the ask @delavairesslegacy!

Cullen Rutherford/Tucdela

Cullen considered himself a man of routine. Whether it be the Templar training or just his structured personality he performed some tasks the same day in and day out, and that was how he liked it. One such task was keeping track of and putting away his armor at the end of the day so that come dawn he wouldn’t need to rummage around the cold stone floor in his barefeet and bedclothes trying to find a stray gauntlet. There were, of course, sometimes complications to this routine, mostly of elven nature if a certain Inquisitor had her way, but that, at least today, was irrelevant.

Today, his armor was conveniently missing from its stand, every bit, from mantle to boots. Thinking that maybe one of his soldiers thought to have a laugh and steal their commanding officer’s armor he made the quasi walk of shame–shameful in only that he felt quite bare in Skyhold’s cold morning air in his boots, trousers, and loose tunic shirt–down to the training court.

His troops were all gathered in a circle as he approached, unusually awake at this hour of the morning, without their usual grumblings of falling asleep on their feet, watching a smaller figure attempt to swing a sword much too long for them around.

As he drew closer he caught sight of familiar dark red waves and the elegant point of elven years curving from beneath her dark hair. She tried to heave the sword up again, familiar accented voice rising into the still mountain air. “You just need to whack it really, really hard.” As if to demonstrate she aimed towards one of the training dummies and the sword fall into the straw and cloth shoulder, sending up a puff of dust. It stuck, and she had to pull extra hard to get it out. “See, really hard.”

“Tucdela,” Cullen called, momentarily forgetting to call her by her title first–as had become habit in the initial period that he hadn’t let himself entertain the thought of her being anything other than his leader. Title notwithstanding his soldiers have already sniffed out the gossip that their Commander and her Inquisitorialness as Varric called her were spending an ample amount of time together– and there was laughter in her voice when she whipped around, nearly tumbling to the ground. His boots–and now he knew where his armor was as she’s requisitioned all of it, no matter how big,–are much too large for her feet, he can see that she can’t really lift them, instead shuffling along the ground. Somehow she’s clipped and tied his gauntlets around her arms and fastened her chest piece around her lithe figure, even if she’s swimming in the abundance of metal.

He has seen her in the fur mantle and cloth under piece to his armor, after all her usual armor around Skyhold was in fact a cut and tucked version of the over piece he draped around her in the snow of Haven, minus the heavy fur now. Now, however, his, fully not sewn to fit her proportions, hangs down to her knees and dangles loosely over her brown undershirt. Now it hangs down to her knees, danging distractedly loose around her brown undershirt.

“What’re you doing?”

In a split second where she seemed shocked to see him without his armor, despite she herself wearing it, her eyes drifted over the loose but thin fabric of the one shirt he had been able to find in his haste before dragging to his face. Then they narrowed, a smirk quirked her lips and she barked in her best imitation of his voice–ridiculously husky and low and still clipped with the Dalish dialect. “Recruit Rutherford, you’re late!”

He couldn’t play around in front of his troops, they were already snickering behind their hands at the stand off between their commanding officer and their Herald. But she crossed her arms, cocked her hip and waited for a response.

So, in his driest voice he asked, “What’re you teaching today, Commander Lavellan?”

Tucdela hauled the sword up, gesturing between herself, her ‘students’, and the dummy. From the look she fixed on him he might as well have had the thought process of that dummy in that moment. “How to fight with a sword.”

He can’t help it, the natural banter he finds himself himself reaching for when its only them breaking free, when he immediately shot back; “Can you even swing that sword? You’re an archer.”

There are muffled exclamations from the peanut gallery of soldiers and he can practically hear the coins shifting hands and bets being made. “Inquisitor?”

Tilting her chin up he pinpointed the moment her smirk widened and she celebrated a small victory, perhaps in losing the complete professionalism he keeps a tight handle on. “Is that a challenge, Rutherford?”

It was a breach of every rule he’s set for himself over the past years of the Inquisition but she has been telling him to loosen up in front of his troops, make himself one of them instead of holding himself at a cool distance. Well, none of his men should be challenging the Inquisitor to duels in their armor. If they were then they would have something more to worry about than beating Tucdela Lavellan in one on one combat.

“You find yourself challenged, Inquisitor.” Scanning the gathered troops and waving towards the swords of one of the soldiers that was close to Tucdela’s build, a young Orlesian that had joined forgone her countrymen’s fight after the Winter Palace in favor of the Inquisition, if his memory served him right, he said. “Eira, if you wouldn’t mind lending the Inquisitor your sword.”

She handed it over with a pushed down amusement filled grin and he turned to hold it out to Tucdela, quirking a brow. “You might want to take off the armor before you bring harm to yourself.”

Stepping closer than strictly necessary to grab the sword she pulled her lower lip between her teeth, keeping her voice between them. “Oh I can think of someone and some way better to remove this armor, Commander.”

Maker’s breath. With the relative calm that had come over Skyhold in planning their next blow and waiting for information to surface on their enemy, filled with odd jobs and resource gathering, much of the stress had lifted at least slightly from her shoulders; and while he thanked the Maker that she was no longer a husk of herself those green eyes looking up at him from thick lashes as she stepped back were almost to much.

It took her a few minutes of fumbling with the straps she’s crossed and recrossed before the armor came off, leaving her barefoot and just as under dressed for her rank or even just a duel as he is. Then again, with the rumor mill pumping furiously from Denerim about the fact that the King and Queen had dueled each other–for fun, nobles nearly lost their minds at such a concept–in their royal finery, dueling in shirts and trousers hardly seemed such an issue.

It took three or four blows for them both to realize that Cullen was correct, and that Tucdela was an archer by trade and nature and not a swords-woman. While not completely hopeless with blades, she did after all carry and know how to use two daggers were something to ever go wrong in combat with her bow, she was clumsy and unsure with a sword.

She lost gracefully, though not for lack of trying. With the weight of a sword weighing her down she couldn’t dance and flit around the way she could with her bow, couldn’t jump from spot to spot. Instead she would find her flank open, then her front, then her back; all faster than she could reach with her experience.

Finally she raised her hand in surrender, leaning on her sword. Her shoulders rose and fell quickly and she raked her hand through hair damp with swear. The loose brown tunic she had been wearing clung to her back but despite her tired and overheated look her eyes were gleaming with a light he hadn’t had to pleasure of seeing for a long time.

“I give.” With a wheezing laugh she rocked back and forth on her feet. “I’ve been humbled enough.”

Then she smiled at him, beaming and happy, and he couldn’t help but give a small, reserved smile in return. Motioning to his troops he gave them his most stern look. “Alright, you’ve all had your fun at the Inquisitor’s expense, go get ready for your actual training.”

“I don’t know, Commander. Her Ladyship might be able to give you a run for your job.”

Pointing at the smart mouthed soldier, though his tone remained light he shooed him off. “I didn’t ask for your smart mouth, ser, that’s an extra three rounds for you.”

With excessive grumbling the troops ambled away to prep for their real drilling, pushing and shoving back at each other. When it was only the two of them Cullen turned to Tucdela and offered a real smile. “Are you alright?”

She waved off his concern, straightening up and relinquishing the borrowed sword as her cane. “Pssh that? I’m fine. It’s only the most work I’ve done in months.”

Cullen wandered to the pile she had made of his armor, starting to sort through it and untangle straps. “Even with the dragon you and Bull slayed in the Approach?”

“Maybe less than slipping and sliding on sand while trying to avoid dragon breath.” Tucdela mused. “Though this is a close second.”

He jumped when suddenly her arms were slung around his shoulders, her head resting against his. “Thank you, for doing that, even with your troops there. I think it’s the most fun I’ve had as ‘The Inquisitor’ lately.”

Pulling at the straps she had adjusted to make work he turned his head and pressed a kiss to her exposed jaw. “Anything for you.”

Her low hum rumbled in his ear as she pulled herself closer for a moment. “Ah, I know I say this a lot, but I love you. And I really don’t want to go to my meetings now.”

Then she was dragging her arms from around his shoulders with a huff, looking down at her sweaty and dusty garments. “Josie’s going to flay me alive if I show up in this.” She sighed, then fixed him with a look. “I’ll see you after these morning meets? Office or battlements?”

“As always.”

[nookishposts]

Chicken Diaries June 21/20

We’ve had our hens almost 4 weeks. As first-timers we thought we would play it safe and get 6 ready-to-lay 18-week-old pullets instead of hand-raising cute baby chicks. They arrived in a green plastic crate and there exists a video of me opening that to release them into our carefully constructed chicken coop. Let’s just say they needed some encouragement. The process involved considerable cussing and laughter, some of it even came from me. But a few minutes effort and they began to come out of their conspiratorial little huddle in the corner and explore their new digs.

Instead of building a new free-standing structure, we decided to modify one end of the good-sized shed that came with this property. We cordoned off an 8 x 10 ft section , building a wall with wooden pallets and chicken wire, also wiring in the ceiling so nobody would be tempted to roost in the rafters and small prey birds wouldn’t have access. We installed 4 nesting boxes on a shelf approximately 3 feet off the ground, using plastic bins on their sides and screwed into the wooden framework. I’ve seen others screw plastic buckets to the wall, or use old record bins, milk crates, etc, and all research suggests it doesn’t really matter what they are made of as long as they are dark and cozy and quietly out of the way. I lined them with shavings and chopped straw and put a ceramic egg (golf balls can also be used apparently) to give the juveniles inspiration. I even hung an old towel cut into fringes over the top couple of inches of each opening, just as I have seen farmers do. Feed and water dispensers sit on a small platform. The next addition was a large cedar branch along one wall to serve as a roost. A 40 gallon feed bin full of laying mash was tucked tidily beneath. For someone with zero decorating or fashion sense I was quite pleased with myself. A good thick layer of wood shavings on the concrete floor. And the piece de resistance was the chicken door...cut into the side wall of the shed, about 18 inches up, snazzy ladders on either side lovingly crafted by my sister-in-law. It has a hatch that clips open and shut, and even a little shingled flap to keep out the weather. The outdoor pen to which this leads is a reclaimed dog run frame courtesy of neighbours down the road who just wanted rid of it. We cut it to a 8 x 12 x 6 foot size, freshened the wire and top against predators, added another roost, a water trough and a tarp for shade. Oh, and yes, there are human accesses to each area. I couldn’t fit through a chicken door even in my salad days. So, the birds had good food, water, shelter, and a nice new home. Eggs would come by the time the girls reached 21 weeks old according to the experts.

Thus our education began. Notice I said “our”.

First step was teaching them how to get out into the yard. It made sense to trail a little mash up the ladder rungs. They just stood alongside and pecked it off. So I gathered one girl up and put her on the little landing just inside the hatch. I got cussed out and flapped at for my efforts , but she calmed down enough to think it over, and then fell out the other side into the pen. Let’s call it a partial success. As chickens can fly, I figured I would just shove them out the door; they could soften their landing in feathery parachutes and then just figure out how to get back in on their own. It took a few tries but we all grew into it. They practically tap-dance up and down their ladders now, the little show-offs. Each morning when I open their hatch they shove one another out of the way in a race to be first into the yard. And like any other young-ins, they lead me a merry chase to get them to go to bed at bedtime. When they do get settled in, they are all lined up and fluffed out, 6 feathery dirndle skirts in a row on their roost, drowsy-eyed and singing one another to sleep. It’s pretty adorable.

I try to spend a little quality time with them each day, sitting on a block in the chicken run with treats, so they readily hand-feed and get used to being handled. I can keep an eye on the health of beaks and claws and general well-being. There have been times when there’s a bird on my shoulder, another on my knee and a third on my foot. I have yet to be pooped on, but that too will come in time. Not that I am in any rush. They love rotten bananas, strawberry tops, and cheese curds. They are nuts for radish greens and lettuce. Potato peels are ignored and cucumber kicked aside. Most chickens will eat a variety of kitchen scraps but we seem to have 6 little Kardashian divas on our hands...picky girls demanding quality. I am merely a vending machine in crocs...as I approach they see me coming and get all coo-ey and sweet. Unless they see me on a water run but otherwise empty handed. Nobody here will fess up to teaching them that kind language. Divas they may be, but they ain’t ladies. I serve, they lay.

And now we come to our biggest point of contention. 

Those are damned nice laying boxes. Clean, soft, cosy, basic black. Add a string of pearls and you could wear them anywhere. At the correct height. Softly bedded. A little snack in the corner of each one, because, you know, delivering potential offspring is exhausting work. Or so I’m told by my own Mother Hen. Anywho....at 20 weeks we had our first egg and I managed to find it while it was still warm from the oven, tucked neatly into a low corner of the coop. I ran with it into the house, proudly showing it off like a first grader with a finger painting. My Beloved and I celebrated with a three-way selfie; us and the pretty little peachy-brown perfect orb of poultry protein. We had been warned not to eat the first few eggs if they were at all soft, misshapen, or in any way unusual. This one was Oscar-worthy and it sat in pride of place on the kitchen island for days while we sighed in admiration and patted ourselves on the back. We’d have displayed it on the fridge door if we could have figured out how. 

For a few days, I gently lifted the growing girls into the 4 nesting boxes, praising and petting them, making sure they saw the ceramic examples. To absolutely no avail. We found eggs everywhere; in the corners, on the frames, behind the feed bin, next to the water dispenser, even one in the yard. The boxes remain undisturbed by volunteers except the odd scrounging chipmunk  cleaning up maternity snacks. A few eggs have been bomb-dropped from the height of the roost and decoratively splattered onto the floor. Chickens clean these up themselves thankfully. We told ourselves they were still young and learning. In one particularly popular corner, I stuck a cardboard box filled with shavings, out of curiosity. Sure enough, a couple of little gems glistened there the next morning. Aha! So logically I took one of the fancy boxes from it’s ledge and stuck it in the same corner, leaving the cardboard box on top out of the way. Yay!

This morning, entering carefully as always in order to avoid stepping on or in anything untoward, I peeked around the door to behold the following: one hen perched in the cardboard box, having just delivered her duty, whilst a second girl perched directly on top of the first was doing her best to comply. We had layered layers. Sure enough, egg number 2 dropped into the butt feathers of the bottom girl and rolled gently off into the bedding next to egg # 1. The hens smiled. There may even have been a winged high-five, I’m not sure.

I surrender.

We are averaging 6 eggs per day every day now, with only the odd misfire. Serving a frittata to my Mum, (who is here to visit for the first time as we could keep things pandemically safe enough to do so), from eggs laid the very same morning was a stupidly proud moment for me. I no longer care where the birds deposit their booty, as long as I don’t have to step in it. There’s a For Rent sign on each of the four custom nesting boxes.Perhaps there’s an introverted mallard out in the wetlands looking for a new home. I’ll just continue to be the vending machine with the poopy shoes. I know my place.

[thischicklits]

another fever, another book

Every Friday morning, a well-dressed executive stops at a flower store across the street from her office to buy a bouquet of flowers from the surly staff member with arms covered in flower tattoos, who never assists but always watches her like she’s going to break into the fridge and steal the roses. feeling awkward, she tends to ramble on and on - his only contribution to the conversation is the final price, and the ding of the register. one morning, he isn’t there, and a peppy part-timer offers to have the flowers delivered at the end of the day instead. after a particularly long day, the exec is startled to see the owner himself there, bouquet in hand, sitting in reception and waiting for her, wearing cut-off jeans that display a prosthetic leg, decorated with tattoos that match his arms. ... “Miss Caine,” the usually apathetic receptionist has a lilt to her voice, “Your boyfriend’s here.” He sees me - our eyes meet, and he stands. I hurry over, my heels clicking on the floor. 

“Marley, right?” he fingers the business card I left with the part-timer. “You didn’t have to bring them over yourself,” I say, grabbing the bouquet so roughly that a few petals flutter to the floor between us. “I could have come by after work, or...”

“Not a problem,” he replies. His voice is low, with the hint of mockery I’ve become accustomed to. He slides his now empty hands into his pockets. “We do deliver, so.”

“Oh,” I fumble for my purse. “I should tip you...”

“Don’t worry about it,” he cuts me off, turning towards the elevators. His gait is pretty smooth - smoother than mine in these heels, that’s for sure. I follow behind, and he turns to me with a smirk, as if he agrees with my thoughts.

“I’m heading home, too, so,” I say brusquely, waiting with him for the elevator. I’m not used to seeing him standing this tall: he’s usually seated behind the counter at the store, slouched over and glaring at me. “I didn’t know about...” My mouth dries, and he glances at the numbers above the elevators. Nice, Marley, I chastise myself but my mouth is moving faster than my brain: “You know, your... Are you alright? Of course, of course you’re alright,” the elevator dings, and I bite my lip to keep from rambling on.

The doors open.

“After you,” he says, and I scuttle in sideways. I go to the back corner, press myself so far back I feel the railing against my butt.

“Sorry,” I say, refusing to meet his eyes as he presses the ground button. “I didn’t know.”

He shrugs. The elevators jolts a bit when it starts moving. I’m prepared for it, but he slips a bit, stumbling backward.

“Woah!” I reach out a hand to steady him. “Are you alright?”

We both glance at my hand on his arm, brown fingers curling over a tattooed crysanthemum on his bicep. “Yes,” he whispers steadily, in a calm voice, like I’m a child. 

He goes to move my hand, but I pull it away first, try to hide it in a pocket before realizing that my skirt suits all have fake pockets, to avoid bulk and make my curvy frame look smaller. I wrap both hands around the bouquet instead, as if it’s his neck, and squeeze.

There’s something almost eerie about the guy. He’s lean, but muscled, with long fingers and clipped nails. He’s got short, dark hair and a thin set of serious lips that are usually so expressionless they used to remind me of a skeleton. But now there’s a hint of a  smile on them. His tattoos 

When the doors open again, we’re on the ground floor. We both move to the door, and brush shoulders. I turn a corner, and so does he. We’re both heading in the same direction: he, to the store; and I, to the bus stop. I’m carrying flowers, and everyone must think - we’re together. They must think, I realize as he gestures for me to walk through a door first, that he’s the reason I left Taj.

“You weren’t in the store today,” I say suddenly.

He stops walking, and I turn in time to see a thought pass across his face. “You ordered your flower arrangements from our store.”

“Oh, shit,” I turn back to him, my voice low but urgent. “Did we not cancel in time? Are you out a lot of money?”

“I thought you’d be in Aruba, or something...”

“Paris,” I mutter.

“On your honeymoon.”

“We... called it off.” I shrug, as if that is the sort of thing a runaway bride would do.

“I didn’t think you’d be in, and Sara took my shift, and...” His mouth lifted at one corner, in a smile he was trying to suppress. “You weren’t wearing your ring.”

I run a thumb over my barren finger. I had worn the damn ring for two years, and the impression of where it used to be stuck to me like a ghost. “We called it off, I say again.

And I don’t know what he’s thinking, but the smile has won the battle. It’s a grin, actually - almost bashful, with a crooked tooth at the front. And there’s nothing skeletal about it - I’m warm all over. 

...

Marley brings the flowers to the grandmother who raised her, who has dementia, and can’t remember Marley ever being engaged at all. She thinks Marley is her mum, come back from a trip abroad that, in reality, she did not survive.

...

For the next few weeks, Tom isn’t in the shop.

“Did he do the thing where he pretends he’s fallen?” Sara rolls her eyes. I feel the warmth of his bicep under my palm, and my cheeks burn.

“Does he do that to all the girls?”

“Only the pretty ones,” Sara mutters, tapping on her phone. “But don’t worry, you’re the only one he wants to marry.”

My eyes widen, but when I turn to her for an explanation, she’s breathless with laughter. Only, I’m not sure if it’s at me, or her phone.

...

Marley has her henna done to attend Taj’s sister’s engagement. She didn’t remember recommending the flower shop for the arrangements, but there he is - setting up. Even here, he steals glances at her like she’s going to ruin something. When Taj and she exchange a few heated words, she steps outside, and finds him there.

They sit on the back steps together. Marley is a bit tipsy, and undoes the button on her too-tight, borrowed skirt and abandons her heels. He’s leaning against a walking stick, the prosthetic packed away. In the moonlight, with his tattoos, and her arms covered in henna, she thinks they are quite the match.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Marley accuses.

“Only because I like you so much,” He jokes, his voice as soft as moonlight.

Marley snorts. “Yeah, right. That’s why you glare at me all the time...”

“Hmm.”

“And make fun of me.”

“Hmm.”

“And did that fake stumble thing in the elevator?”

He grins. “You caught that one, did you?”

“Oh, god, you do like me!” I giggle. I can feel the champagne making the tacky fairy lights look romantic, and the dark back alley feel cozy. “You probably want to kiss me.”

I snicker as I look up at him, and his eyes are glinting in the dark.

“Eww,” I try to say. But it’s all breathy whisper, and my pounding heart drowns out his answer.

...

The first week after they kiss, Marley shows up to find the flower shop closed. She keeps an eye on it all day, but it doesn’t open. She calls Tom, but his phone ring outs.

...

That Monday evening, he’s waiting for her downstairs. He’s not wearing the prosthetic, and is leaning against the crutches. 

“I fell,” he says, by way of explanation. “I overdid it with the prosthetic, and had to rest on Friday.”

“I tried calling you.”

“No cell phones in the hospital.”

He looks gaunt. Like he hasn’t slept. Like he’s really had a rough time of it.

“Fine,” I accept the flowers, and take a deep, rosey breath. “But she hates roses, so you’re coming with me to make my excuses.”

“She?”

“That’s right, mister,” I throw him a smile over my shoulder. “And she hates tattoos.”

...

Marley’s grandmother is not impressed by the roses, or the tattoos. She prefers daisies, she says. But she does praise Marley (who the thinks is her daughter) for finding someone other than the good-for-nothing that is Marley’s dad.

“Don’t worry,” Marley says, her hand swinging casually between them. Her knuckles brush his, and she does it again, linking her little finger with his. “She probably won’t remember you, and you can wear sleeves next time.”

Tom frowns. “You’re taking it weirdly well that she doesn’t remember you.”

“I love her,” Marley says. “She lived with me as long as I could care for her. She’s the only mother I’ve ever known. Do I miss her? Yes... I really miss her. Especially after everything with Taj, you know? But does seeing her still make me happy? Yeah, it does. I’ll take what I can get of her.”

He pauses to adjust their hands, so their fingers are linked around the crutch.

...

One day, as Marley is feeling the pressure of reuniting with Taj, she and Tom get into an argument.

“Taj wants to marry me.”

“So do I.”

“No, he really wants to marry me. Like house, and kids, and all that.” Even as I say them, the words feel bitter in my mouth.

“So do I,” Tom says. “I love you.”

“You barely know me.”

“I know you, Marley,” Tom growls. “I know you bring flowers to your grandmother every week. I know you hate your job and your pointy shoes. I have listened to you go on and on about music, and books, and podcasts for the past seven months. I’ve probably learned more about you than he has in the past two years!”

“Those are just... facts...” I’m feeling breathless, and lightheaded. My heart is pounding so hard I don’t know if I want to leap for joy or run out of the shop.

“I know you’re the kindest, most beautiful person I’ve ever known, and I know I don’t want to spend a single day of my life without you.”

“Well,” I say, feeling as breathless as he looks. “That’s a lot.”

“I’ve scared you,” he says, inhaling deeply, as if he can take all of the words back. “I don’t mean now. I know you don’t feel the same, I’m just asking for a chance. A maybe. Just a little bit of hope.” His eyes dip to my fingers, and I remember the way he said it - you weren’t wearing your ring. Hope.

...

Marley needs some time to think. She avoids them both, accepting a long business trip. Then her grandmother dies.

...

Tom is at the funeral. So is Taj - he is clinging to her. Tom is just watching her. He is wearing sleeves, and is holding a bundle of daisies. Everyone asks her about him, and she can’t explain it - who is he? how do you know him? what happened to him? Marley avoids it all.

At the end of the day, Tom is the last one there, sitting at the edge of the stair case. Marley cracks, and cries into his chest.

...

Marley doesn’t need to buy flowers anymore. One day, she finds Sara at reception, arguing with the receptionist. Sara finds Marley, and tells her she has to come to Tom’s birthday party.

“I don’t know if I should do that, Sara,” Marley sighs. She feels sick to her stomach. “I don’t know how I feel about Tom, and I don’t want to hurt him by showing up uninvited...”

“It’s at our parent’s house, where I live, so I’m inviting you,” Sara ticks answers off of her fingers like a to-do list. “You would hurt him if you didn’t show - he secretly hopes you’ll stop in every day,” she levels her with the kind of acid look only teenagers can give. “And you don’t.”

“I---”

“Not finished.”

“Okay...”

“You don’t have to love him, yet.” Sara smiles, and Marley recognizes her older brother in it. “Our parents forced Tom to work at the shop after the accident. They said it would be good for him, blah blah. You know parents.”

I didn’t really, but that didn’t stop her.

“Anyway, you started coming in, and he started smiling. And looking forward to seeing you. You talked about dancing at your wedding,” Sara rolls her eyes, but there’s no venom in it. “And he started going back to physio.”

“I... he never told me...”

Sara just shrugged. “Boys are idiots.”

...

Marley goes to Tom’s birthday party, and meets his friends and family. She learns about the accident through his friends’ good-natured joking. His parents know her name. When everyone’s gone, Marley stays to help tidy up. With the music on, they share a birthday dance in the backyard. He kisses her cheek, and she turns into his lips.

“Waited forever for that.”

“Worth it?”

“Definitely. In fact,” he pulls her fingers to his lips, “We should wait another year for the next one.”

She laughs, and he tilts her chin to kiss her again.

...

[superprincesspea]

Knock, Chapter 10

You find out the sex of your baby but that isn’t the only thing that surprises you on your trip to Hilltop. 

Simon/You, Fluff, Pregnancy

Words: 2241

Chapter 1    Chapter 2    Chapter 3    Chapter 4    Chapter 5  

Chapter 6    Chapter 7    Chapter 8    Chapter 9

It was stubborn pride that had given you the final push through Simon’s door and some days you wondered if you’d made the right decision. Even three months later you’d find yourself catching his eye and quietly wishing he’d pull you back into his arms like you hadn’t walked away.  

With a sigh you pushed the idea to the back of your mind, it was no good dwelling on past decisions and you didn’t want to spoil today. You’d been looking forward to this day for weeks and you’d spent a great deal of time convincing Dr Carson to convince Simon that it would be an excellent idea.

You were running early. The excitement to finally get a chance to not only leave the Sanctuary but also see your baby had made you spring out of bed this morning. Well, maybe not spring. You didn’t exactly spring anymore. At almost five months pregnant you rolled.

Your hand was rubbing absent minded circles on your rounded belly when you stepped into the mess hall, almost accidentally bouncing into Fat Joey as you spotted Simon already waiting for you.

He was sitting on the edge of a table, his laughter filling the room and making your heart leap at the sound of it. A girlish grin was right on the brink of filling you face when you spotted a waify redhead eating up his every word. She had her long hair curled around slender fingers, her jeans cut low enough to show more than an inch of washboard abs while you stood in the doorway feeling like a baby manatee and not in a cute way.

You might have thought that a man expecting a baby with another woman would have taken him off the market but it had only seemed to make him more desirable or maybe you were just noticing it more. This wasn’t the first time you’d spotted the shy flirty smiles of a women looking to find her way into his trousers and you found yourself wondering if he’d accepted any of the offers that had surely come his way. That idea lead you to curl your fists into balls, your spine straight and your jaw clenched as you stormed across the room.

It was probably fortunate that the redhead slinked away before you had the chance to say anything and potentially embarrass yourself. But that didn’t stop you from standing in front of Simon and demanding, “who was that?”

Simon slid off the table, towering over you, his smile unwavering. “That was Penny.”

“Well I don’t like her,” you spat, your hand on your hip in a way that reminded you of your mother.

Simon snorted, “you didn’t even know her name until ten seconds ago.”

Maybe it was the hormones, sure, you could blame the hormones for what came out of your mouth next. “I don’t need to know her name to know she’s a whore.”

He rested his hand on his belt, cocking one eyebrow as he carefully looked you up and down, “have you lost what was left of your damn mind?”

You glanced away, the sting of his words making you realise that this wasn’t you. You didn’t call women whores and you certainly didn’t get possessive but you were in no mood to back down. “We’re having a baby so that means you should be thinking about what kind of girls you're spending your time with.”

“Last time I checked I was a free agent. You said yourself, there’s nothing between us until the baby’s here so that gives me four more months of doing whatever the hell I want.”

“The baby is here,” you snap pointing to your swollen belly, “it’s here right now so you better think about that before you start fucking all these random women.”

“Wait a minute,” he says pointing his finger at you, his laugh rumbling slowly across his chest, “is it at all possible that you might be jealous?”

Your cheeks heat and he begins to laugh a little harder like you’ve proven his point.

“Maybe I am jealous! Jealous that you get to act like nothing’s happened while I’m lumbered with this,” you gestured to your belly once again and his laughter stops.

“Well I’m sorry to lumber you,” he says, grabbing his jacket and walking away so you can only catch a glimpse of the way his face has fallen.

You clench your teeth together, frustration curling your fists into even tighter balls. You’re overreacting and saying everything wrong and if you were completely honest you were also being a total bitch. You didn’t feel lumbered, lumbered wasn’t the right word at all. In fact, right now what you felt was… horny. Insatiable. The idea that Simon might fuck another woman annoys you in more ways than one.

Silently cursing your big mouth you follow him outside to where the Jeep is waiting and when you’ve both taken your seats you can see the way his eyes keep flicking to your belly, his hesitation to take you to Hilltop is palpable before he even begins to speak. “I know Carson said it would be better for you to see his brother for a sonogram but now I’m thinking it might be better for everyone if I bring the other Doc here instead.”

“No,” you say quickly, your hand gripping his forearm. “Please don't change your mind about this. I’ve been stuck in the Sanctuary for months and the drive to Hilltop is so pretty and... I wanna see the fields and breathe the fresh air and not feel like I’m trapped here.”

You were gripping his arm even tighter now and even you hadn’t quite realised how stir crazy you’d been the past few weeks. Now that your sickness had pretty much disappeared, you were finding life inside the walls like being in a prison. Everything was so dark and grey and your room felt smaller now that you were bigger. When you’d gone up to the roof to see over the walls all you’d seen was tarmac, concrete and the dead.

“Take me, please,” you pleaded, your voice dripping with desperation and somehow sounding as sweet as you ever had.

You notice the exact moment Simon caves. His puppy dog eyes melt like chocolate buttons and a small smile creases into his cheeks. “Okay. I’ll take you but if anything happens when we’re out there then you have to promise to do exactly what I say. I mean it. I don’t want you getting out of this Jeep until I say you can and I definitely don’t want you fighting.”

“Okay,” you chime, clipping your seat belt into place and grinning like a kid at Christmas.

The drive is everything you hoped. Sure, there were the occasional roamers but beyond that there were fields filled with lush green grass and wildflowers growing untamed. The smell when you roll down your window is rich and fresh, the scent of springtime orchestrated by birds chirping in the trees.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your hand landing on his knee and both of you sharing the same look of surprise before you quickly turn away, your heart thumping so hard you feel like he can hear it. If he can he doesn’t say anything and if he did you’re not sure you won’t say something awful and ruin things.

When you reached Hilltop you didn’t have to wait to be seen by Dr Carson. Having your own armed guard took care of that sort of thing and when he begins to gesture you inside his medical room you realise Simon is still waiting with the others.

“Aren’t you coming?” you call, the eyes of all the Savior’s focused on you and then Simon.

He hesitates, glancing at the others before walking close enough so only you can hear when he whisper, “I thought you wouldn’t want me to.”

Your stomach sinks and you it’s shame that’s make you feel this way. He’s the father to this baby and you’ve pushed him so far away that he’s willing to miss out on this special moment. “I do want you to,” you whisper, feeling sheepish.

“Yeah?” he smiles and you feel even more guilty than you did before.

“Of course I do,” you say, leading the way inside.

While Carson sets up the machine you lay on the medical bed and your gaze can’t help but keep wandering to Simon who’s sitting besides you. Today is the first time you’ve really spent together since you’d left his room. He’d topped up your points and you knew he spoke to Carson about your checkups but other than that he’d stayed away just like you’d asked.

When he catches you looking at him he smiles and before you can say or do anything Carson says, “are you ready?”

You roll your shirt over your belly, gasping when Carson squeezes a huge dollop of ice cold gel onto your skin.

“Sorry,” he chuckles, pressing the probe against your belly with a surprising amount of force and for a moment you think you might actually pee your pants but then a grainy imagine flicks onto the screen and you can’t think of anything else. It’s a baby, your baby and it’s really there.

“It’s perfect,” you blurt and you’re not sure who makes the first move but suddenly Simon’s hand is wrapped around yours.

You can see the profile of its button nose and the way its little legs are kicking around. And even though you knew what this imagine was going to look like you had no idea what seeing it was going to feel like.

Simon kisses the back of your hand, whispering, “I can’t believe we made that.” And you can’t believe it either.

“Everything looks good,” Carson says eventually. “I’d estimate you to be around 19 weeks pregnant so you’re already pretty much half way there. I don’t see any reason why you can’t have a normal, healthy delivery so we can start thinking about your birthing plans in another couple of months but for now would you like to know the gender? ”

It’s weird but you hadn’t even considered finding out the sex of the baby, you’d just been so excited at the prospect of actually seeing it moving around in there. You look at Simon and with an unspoken agreement you answer, “yes?”

“Hell yeah,” Simon adds with his boyish smile.

“Okay, well I’ve checked it a couple of times to make sure and it looks like you’re having a baby girl. Congratulations.”

A girl. A wave of emotions washes over you and you burst into tears. “Oh my god,” you say dumbly. Somehow knowing the baby is a girl adds another level of realness and when you look at Simon he’s grinning from ear to ear.

“I was wanting a girl,” he admits.

“You were?” you sniffle, dabbing your eyes with the tissue Carson has handed you before wiping away the gel that’s coating your bump.

“I figured a little girl will belong to her Daddy and I want at least one lady who lets me spoil her,” Simon gushes, his eyes glazing over with a far off expression that leaves you feeling a little jealous of your own baby.

When you start to pull your shirt over your belly he holds his hand out, “can I?”

You nod, pulling your shirt back up and barely breathing as his palm rests on your bump. His hand feels rough and warm, just the way you remembered it and your skin tingles for more while a barely noticeable wiggle of movement curls inside your belly and reminds you why he’s really here right now.

“I was jealous,” you admit, staring at your sneakers instead of Simon. “I was jealous that you were talking to somebody else and I think no matter what you do, or who you do it with then you’re be a great father. This baby is lucky to have you.”

His hand slips from your stomach and you pull your shirt down, sliding off the table with as much finesse as you can manage. You don’t know why you think this but you’re hoping that Simon will just let you say what you’ve said without the sort of reaction that might make you say more. Of course he doesn’t, he turns you to face him and he tilts your head so you’re looking him in the eye.

“You never have to be jealous,” he says like he knows just how to break your resolve. “There’s no one else,” he adds as if you might not have understood his meaning.

“Okay,” you squeak, sounding very unlike yourself and feeling on the brink of saying something ridiculous like you might be falling in love with him. Is that what’s happening? Or is it just the hormones speaking?

Dr Carson returns from wherever he had disappeared to and hands you a stack of baby photos, giving you the perfect opportunity to look away from Simon. “She’s gonna need a name,” you say, changing the subject.

Simon chuckles, “well I don’t mind what you wanna pick as long as it ain’t Negan.”

You laugh, loud, feeling less like you’re on the brink of blubbing some emotional nonsense and more like yourself as you bat your hand across his chest and say, “I think baby Negan is a great name.”

Thank you for reading!! The voting was super close between them having a girl or a boy but the girls just pipped it. Let me know if you want tagging in this series!

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