#soundproof room i could go to to sing in and nobody ever hears me and i could just scream sing in there

[nomaishuttle]

so embarassing when i go to lyrics post and then realize with great shame that ive lyrics posted that exist same lyric like 5 times b4

[wri0thesley]

sparring practise - sorbet x reader x gelato

you realise how helpless you are after an attempted burglary, and sorbet and gelato attempt to help you defend yourself. things do not go as planned. 

warnings: not sfw. reader is gender neutral and neutral of body. mentions of fighting, guns, knives, blood, home invasion, choking, cannibalism, serial killing, violence, general sorbet and gelato type warnings. 

yes this is self indulgent no i do not care

The home you share with Sorbet and Gelato is cloaked in civility. It’s in a nice neighbourhood that has a low rate for crime, and Sorbet dutifully tends to the flower beds – Gelato paints your front door in a shade of yellow that makes the neighbours whisper under their breaths even more than the nature of the relationship the three of you share, but nobody comes out and says it because as a whole, you seem like three perfectly well-adjusted and functional members of society who keep to yourselves.

They figure that Sorbet and Gelato work nights, perhaps as a security guards or some kind of manual labour – in the dark, bloodstains can look like all kinds of different things. They greet you when you go to the supermarket and gather your shopping, not blinking when you buy another new sharpening steel with the laugh that all three of you are foodies, and you seem to have an unfortunate habit of breaking them--

The house is your domain. The careful windows, the flower boxes, the neatly vacuumed carpets and the sigh as you stare at Gelato’s muddy boot prints in the entrance hall. They do their best – but sometimes, it is half past one in the morning, and they are weary and simply want to come to bed and embrace you.

The basement, though . . .

That is Sorbet and Gelato’s domain, and you are very rarely in it.

Not because you disapprove of what they do – but because they worry about you, you think. You are smaller than they are, not as scarred, not quite hardened by the years of their past.

“It’s better if you don’t get involved in Passione shit,” Gelato has said, a hundred times. “We need you here, amore! Who fuckin’ knows what we’d do without you?”

“He’s right,” Sorbet has intoned, wrapping his arms around both of your waists. “Bad enough we’re involved.”

“You love it!” Gelato accuses, leaning into Sorbet’s shoulder despite it. Sorbet’s mouth tilts at the corners, a small smile on his face. You know that a hundred men or perhaps more have had that smile be the last thing they see, Sorbet’s eyes dark, his face streaked with blood. It should strike fear into your heart – but all it ever does is make you want to poke his cheek, kiss him until you can feel the curve of his lips echoing all over you.

“Yes,” he says simply. “I do.”

Sorbet and Gelato keep their weapons down here, mounted on the wall. There’s an iron-topped table like the kind one would find in a butcher’s shop beneath the knives, shining brightly despite how often you’ve poked your head down there to tell them dinner is ready and seen it practically bathed in blood. The training mats to one side of the room, a table and chairs and fridge on the other side. Opposite the side of the room with the table and chairs are four iron manacles set into the brickwork, for times when hits have to be taken home and interrogated before being brought to an end – and for some of Sorbet and Gelato’s other outside of work activities, though they don’t talk to you much about those.

And tonight, you are here too.

“You leave me a gun in the bureau,” you’d said to Gelato, a night after a would-be attacker had attempted to burgle you, seeing that your house was neat and pretty and hearing on the grapevine that one homeowner was often alone. “But if someone overpowers me, I’m useless--”

(Sorbet and Gelato had not treated the man kindly. The basement is soundproofed, but you had still heard rhythmic thumping, and the next morning Sorbet had come into the kitchen with several unusual cuts of meat.

“They won’t fit in the fridge down there,” he’d said. Sorbet does most of the cooking. His meals are always delicious.)

It had been Sorbet’s idea to try sparring with you.

“We could leave you some knives too,” Gelato had suggested. “Maybe some other guns? A chainsaw?” and Sorbet had had to point out that none of those things would actually assuage your fears – in fact, if the perpetrator managed to wrangle them off you, you were left much worse off facing a chainsaw than you would be if you had never had one in the first place.

Gelato is closer to your height, so Sorbet makes him wrap his fists and take off his shirt. You do your best not to stare at his torso too much, though he is all lean, wiry muscle dotted with scars and starbursts that you have kissed a thousand times over. He sees you looking and gives you one of his most manic grins, his teeth all sharp – you repress the shiver that runs through you at that, trying to remind yourself you are here to learn and not merely to ogle your boyfriend. Though he does look very good, with his gold hair all tousled and a rush in his eyes that you always see when he feels like he has the dominant position.

Sorbet had taken a seat at first and told you to approach Gelato as if he were hostile, to see if you could get a punch in and so they could work on that – you had made a valiant attempt, despite every bit of common sense you had immediately whispering that Gelato was a predator and you were a prey animal.

You had not been surprised when he had flipped you easily, and you had landed on your back on the training mats with a great thump of air, all of the breath knocked out of you. One of Gelato’s heavy military grade boots had landed, gently, on your abdomen, as he’d bent over you with his eyes glinting in the fluorescent lighting of the basement.

“You look cute like that!” He’d laughed. “Come on! You can do better than this, tesoro!”

He’d been delighted as you’d dragged yourself back up, and as you had made attempt after attempt to get ahead of him. All of them had inevitably ended with you on your knees, or on your back – or once against a wall with a knife far too close to your back for comfort, Gelato’s hand easily around your throat.

That one had almost pushed you to the brink, your breath coming in little pants, a hot jolt of arousal coursing through you at just how Gelato was looking down on you. Gelato had obviously felt it too, because his grin had widened just a little, pressing closer to you so you’d felt the stiff, hot heat of something in his fatigues pressing heavily against your thigh--

“Come here,” Sorbet says. He’s stood up from the chair now, his hands coming to unbutton his own shirt. He is not quite as covered in scars as Gelato is – the blond is more reckless, and you have gathered his previous military experience was more dangerous than . . . whatever Sorbet did, after leaving his church school. That does not make any difference to the fact he is broad and muscled, sculpted from training and years of violence. “You’re not starting right. Your stance is all wrong.”

“I started that last one sittin’ on the floor to give ‘em a chance,” Gelato says, breathlessly, as he peels himself away from you and your hand flies to your throat, recalling the echo of Gelato’s calloused fingers. It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve had one of their hands about their necks, but . . . well. It never gets old, does it? “’N I’m doing fine.”

“You have experience behind you, caro,” Sorbet’s tone is patient. “Of course you do.”

Gelato grins as he gets back into position opposite you, clenching his fist.

“Sorbetto,” his tone is sing-song, wheedling. “You’re not gonna tell me what a good job I’m doin’? C’mooooon--”

Sorbet chuckles, crossing the room to wrap an arm around Gelato’s smaller form, using one hand to tip up his face and place a chaste kiss on the tilt of his crooked nose. Gelato’s had two broken noses in the past six months.

“You know you’re doing wonderfully,” he coos at his boyfriend, who dutifully reddens despite asking for the praise. “But that’s not what we’re here for, is it?”

“No,” Gelato admits, with a sigh – he looks at you, and he gives you a nod. “You’re not doing too badly! Look, Sorbet could knock me down without blinking, if you’re gonna learn from him, some low-life fuckin’ thief is gonna be a piece of cake.”

Sorbet kisses him on the sweaty mass of his pale curls and comes to you.

“Here,” Sorbet murmurs, getting in very close to you. “Your feet are too far apart.” One of his feet kicks gently at your own, forcing you to widen your hips. He grabs a hold of those next, rearranging the tilt, his body so close that you can feel the heat radiating from his chest. Your breath catches as he takes your wrist, helping you curl your fingers into a fist. “Not too tight, don’t put your thumb inside or you’ll break it--”

He’s bent over you, his dark gaze on your hand – and you feel the puff of air he dispels in a breath, warming your neck and shoulder. You can barely breathe. Your heart is beating ten to the dozen.

You know Gelato is turned on – you’d felt that when you were pinned against the wall. You hadn’t realised until Sorbet had come up behind you that watching you was doing the exact same thing to him.

“Alright,” Sorbet says. “When you throw the punch, aim to get it through him, you’ll need the follow through.” You nod, but your throat is dry and your head is spinning.

“Yeah,” you say, “I will.”

Sorbet gives you a pat on the shoulder, before pausing and leaning in to whisper against your ear;

“Aim for his ribs. He’s got a weak spot, left side. You should be able to kick him and sweep him off-balance too.” A hand on your hip drags down, squeezing your ass. “If you manage it, he’ll fuck you into next week.”

“Don’t give ‘em too much of an advantage,” Gelato says. “Can I rush on them now?”

Sorbet gives a small smile again.

“Be my guest,” he says, but he does not go back to his chair – instead, he steps to one side so he can observe. Gelato bounces on the balls of his feet, all buzzing and unrestrained energy. You keep your fists as Sorbet told you to, re-running everything you’ve been told about punching today--

And Gelato moves like a wild animal, chaotic and quick. You dodge one of his blows by inches, sliding your foot forward towards him to alter your balance slightly, your dominant hand coming out with as much force as you can muster, everything you can remember about how to hold your fists running through your mind as it connects hard with Gelato’s left rib and the blond sputters.

Kick. Sweep. Under the ankle, despite his heavy boots--

Gelato stumbles to one side, balance lost, coughing – and then Sorbet is in the fray too, pushing you down in between the two of them so that you’re trapped between two of his legs and topple onto Gelato. The blond snarls hungrily, grabbing a handful of Sorbet’s hair and dragging him into a hungry kiss.

Sorbet’s stiff erection digs into the meat of your ass whilst Gelato’s digs into your front, stuck between the two of them, your glory at getting Gelato off of his feet seeming much less important than the frantic beating of your heart.

“You told them about my ribs,” Gelato grumbles. “Asshole.”

“Your asshole,” Sorbet reminds him, and kisses him again, before pulling away to wrap his arms about your middle instead. “Besides.” Sorbet’s voice turns low and smug. “You can’t tell me you didn’t notice . . .?”

Gelato snickers. He lets go of Sorbet’s hair to cup your face roughly.

“Cucciolo mia,” he says. “How long have you wanted to be fucked?”

Your face grows hot, but that just makes him grin harder, sparks fly from his dark eyes. He grinds his crotch into your thigh and you swallow the thickness that rises in there.

“M’sorry,” you say, after a moment, as Sorbet joins in with the bullying, grinding his hips against your ass. “I--”

“Nothing to be sorry for,” Gelato says, with a laugh like a rusty iron grate. That’s one of those laughs that his victims hear – one you should be scared of, but that makes nothing rise in you except want. “As you can probably feel--” Sorbet’s lips brush your ear, teeth worrying at the earlobe so you moan aloud. “We’ve got the same kinda problem ourselves. Y’know.” His teeth flash, sharp, bright, and you imagine them coated in blood. “If y’wanna help out some.”

You don’t respond to him in words. Instead, you press your lips against his hard, and when he bites hard enough to draw forth blood you moan.

---

When everything is over and done with, you lay sweaty and panting in between both of your boyfriends – Sorbet’s front pressed protectively against your back, Gelato clinging to your waist as he tucks his head beneath your chin.

“Next time,” Gelato breathes, already looking ahead, as if you three did not just spend several hours tangled hot and heavy within each other, biting and moaning and groaning and making the entire basement smell like sex. “We should teach ‘em to fire a rifle. I think they’ve got potential.”

“Mm,” Sorbet says, very low, making his chest reverberate against your spine in a way that has you shivering. “I think you’re right.”

[shewritestheblues]

The Elevator Bae x Chapter 8

Chapter EIGHT

Erik x Black OC (Phoenix)

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

“I missed you so fucking much, baby girl.”

“I missed you too, E.” Phoenix huffed between words. Erik’s heavy figure above hers. His head rested in the crook of her neck as he placed wet kisses on her skin. She dug her fingertips into his back as he stroked her slow and deep. Her eyes stuck shut, moan trapped in her throat when she felt a vibration under her body. Where is this coming from?

Phoenix’s body jerked up and she looked around, realizing she was on her couch. It was dark out now and her tv screen paused with Netflix asking if she was still there. Her phone was ringing under her. That’s when it all hit her. She was dreaming. This was the third night in a row that dreamt of him. Three dreams, night after night of Erik doing all of the right things to her. Why is this happening to her?

Erik had been gone for ten days. The first few days, she poured herself into her work. She set up her equipment in her living room and did the best that could. remixing beats she already had and doing some writing. But has the days went on, she found herself thinking about Erik more and more. Thinking about how good he felt when she kissed him. Missing him, but she did everything but actually admit that to herself. She started watching Naruto because it was his favorite show, but she told herself it was because Netflix suggested it. She went out and bought two cases of Merinelli’s Apple Juice. But of course, not because he liked it, but because she ‘enjoyed the juice of apples.’ She told herself that he probably wasn’t even thinking about her. He’ll probably come back and not even bother talking to her again. Two weeks was more than enough time for him to realize that she wasn’t it and she should just prepare herself now, for it.

None of it worked, though she refused to accept the truth that she missed Erik. It ate her up inside that she couldn’t talk to him. He stayed in her mind constantly. She hated to like it.

“This is ridiculous.” She said to herself as she felt under her legs for her phone.

One missed call from Coby. She swiped the notification, selecting Call Back. When he answered, she could hear nothing but pure joy in his voice.

“PHILLY!” he yelled into the phone.

“Hey!” She pulled the phone away from her face and put it on speaker phone.

“My studio is done.”

Phoenix sat up, snatching the phone, bringing it closer to her face. “What! Say swear!”

“I swear. It’s finally done. You gotta come break it in.”

Coby had been working on building a studio in his home. Fully equipt. He promised that when it was done, she’d be the first person her called and she would be the first to record something in it. Before Phoenix could even express her excitement, Ava had taken over the phone call.

“Yeah, Philly. You might as well pack you a bag or three and come on.”

“A bag? Fuck she need a bag for?” Coby says.

“So she won’t have to leave. You know damn well y’all are about to be living in that damn room.”

“Bet!” Phoenix said. “I’m on my way.”

“Yay! We’re having a sleepover!” Ava yells into the phone. “See you when you get here.”

Phoenix ends the call. She rushes into her room to pack some clothes. She may or may not have packed enough to practically move in. She stuffed as much as she could in her giant Victoria Secret PINK duffle. Along with her face and hair products. She looked around to make sure she had everything. Her laptop was on the floor. She could NOT leave without that. She put it in her backpack with its charger and an extra phone charger and headed out the door. She texted Ava.

Phoenix: Be there in 20 minutes.

-------

Coby’s studio was her dream studio. It was huge. As soon as she walked in, purple lights glowed along the bottom of the soundproof glass that separated them from the recording booth. Coby turned on the lights that revealed all black decor and dark, hardwood floors. Phoenix walked in stroking her fingertips along the new equipment. Ava came in, sitting on the couch.

“You peep that?” Ava says, pointing to something inside of the recording booth. Phoenix goes inside to see. She looks up to see a huge black and white picture of her and Coby from when they were in the studio some time ago. One of Coby’s photographer friends had stopped by and took a few cool shots of them. Coby has the picture enlarged on a canvas and placed on the wall inside of the recording booth.

“Oh my gosh, Coby!” she grabbed his arms, shaking him.

Seeing her jump with joy, brought on the biggest smile that man has ever worn. “You like it?”

“I love it! What made you pick this one?”

“Well, we’re a team now, remember? I figured it was only right to put up a picture of me and my partner.”

“Aww… we haven’t come up with a cool name yet though.”

“We’ll figure that out in due time. But you like everything?”

“YES!”

Coby showed her around to look at everything that he had installed. Of course Phoenix’s favorite part was the fully stocked mini fridge and weed cabinet that held all of their smoking necessities. Phoenix wouldn’t be quiet about how proud of him she was. He had been working on this studio for months. He designed the entire thing himself.

They immediately got to work. Phoenix was so excited about the studio, and to be with her friends, she finally got her mind off of Erik… for now.  She was able to zone into her work. They created their first beat from scratch in the new space. Just as Ava had predicted, once Phoenix and Coby were in the studio, they were there for the rest of the night. After a few hours, Ava left them and went to bed. It was well into the next morning before the two of them had fallen asleep in the studio. They refused to leave.

--------

The next afternoon, Phoenix enjoyed a hot shower and co-washed her hair. She lotioned up with her favorite vanilla shea butter. She moisturized her hair and washed her face. She put on some sweatpants and a t-shirt. Just as she was applying some chapstick, Ava facetimes her.

“Morning!” Ava cheerfully says into the phone.

“Morning, love.”

“Get down here. I made food. I wanna see you before I leave out.”

“Where you goin’?” Phoenix says as she starts walking out of her chosen guest room to meet Ava and Coby down in the kitchen.

“I have a brand meeting.”

“Alright. I’m coming down the stairs.”

Ava ends the facetime call. Phoenix walks down the large staircase and through the hallway. She can see Coby sitting at the kitchen table. She joins him. They share a look before both breaking into smiles.

“You want eggs?” Ava asks Phoenix from the stove.

“Sure.”

Ava brings Phoenix a full plate of food. Phoenix pours herself some cranberry juice, mixing it with orange juice. Coby watches her mix the two drinks with furrowed brows. “Why do you that? That’s weird.”

“It’s delicious actually.” she takes a sip. “You should try it.”

“Nah, I’m good.”

The three of them sit and eat their food. Ava asked them about what they created in the studio and the way their faces lit up was enough to let her know they had a great session, breaking in the new studio. They played her the song they made. As the beat broke through the speaker, Phoenix’s voice rides the beat effortlessly. Ava squealed in excitement, hearing her friend singing.

Just me and you, nobody gon' break this up, this magic

My nigga, my babe, nobody comes before me and you

Numero uno, you know you my baby

What had these bitches off you lately?

“You sound so good!” Ava says. “You should drop this yourself.”

“I told her ass last night, that she should drop some music.” Coby adds.

Phoenix shakes her head. “Y’all crazy. Ain’t nobody trying to hear me sing.”

“You’re crazy! You telling me that you’ve never thought about releasing some of those songs you have locked away? You have a pretty voice, Philly. I think people would love you.”

“It’s crossed my mind, but I’m good.”

Ava rolled her eyes at her. Coby checks the time on his phone. “You better get out of here before you’re late. Traffic probably already crazy.” Ava takes one last sip of her drink. She gets up from the table, picking up her dishes and taking them to the sink.

“Don’t worry about those. I got it.” Coby says.

Ava leaves her dishes and starts out of the kitchen. “I’ll see y’all in a couple hours.”

Coby listened out to hear the front door open and close. As soon as he did, he looks at Phoenix. She’s so into her food, that she didn’t notice at first. When she did, she locked eyes with him and they stared at each other until one of them blinked first. Phoenix’s eyes couldn’t take it and she blinked. “Fuck!”

“I don’t know why you think you can beat me.”

“Nobody should be able to go that long without blinking. Something is wrong with you.”

Coby continues to stare at her as she eats. As he watches her, he notices that she checks her phone every few seconds. She’s not usually the type to be so caught up with her phone. She checks it again, this time, locking it and flipping it over.

“What’s up with you?” he asks.

“Hm? What are you talking about?”

“You keep checking your phone. You expecting a call or something?”

“No.” she says quickly.

Coby smirks. “You waiting on Erik to text you?”

Her face drops and she rolls her eyes, trying to avoid looking in his direction. “No. I was-- I was just checking the time.”

Coby notices the change in her demeanor and the protector in him activates. “What happened? That nigga do something?” His words came out slightly louder than how he was talking before. They were stern.

“No,” she waves him off. “Nothing happened. I haven’t even talked to him.”

“Why not?”

Phoenix looks at him in disbelief. She feels like she’s getting grilled by her Mom. “He’s away right now… for work.”

“And he can’t talk to you? What the fuck do he do?”

Phoenix isn’t getting out of this conversation so she surrenders and figures she’d just answer Coby’s questions. She sits her fork down and leaned back in her chair. “He’s in the Navy. He had to leave for two weeks.” she says, figuring it was the safest answer. She can’t be telling people he’s hired to take people out.

“Hm. When did he leave?”

“Last Tuesday.”

“You must have gave that nigga some good-bye pussy or something.”

“Wha-- No!”

“Then why you actin’ weird?” Coby tries to catch Phoenix’s eye to see if she’s lying. She avoids him by looking off at nothing in the kitchen.

“I’m not acting weird. You are. Asking me all of these damn questions.” she snapped.

“You are acting weird. I’m just trying to make sure you good and I don’t have to kill that nigga. I bring his name up and you get all tense and shit.”

Phoenix doesn’t respond. She looks down and picks at her fingers. Coby patiently waits for her to give him something. When she doesn’t, he tries to push a little more. Phoenix is good for keeping things locked in. But not on his watch.

“Aye,” she looks at him. “Talk to me. What’s the problem?”

She takes a deep breath. “I’m just… I don’t know.”

“Phoenix.” his voice was stern.

“I think I’m scared.”

“Scared of what?” Coby leaned onto the table, all ears.

“I- I can’t believe I’m about to tell you this.” He motioned for her to go on. “I’ve only ever been with one person and that clearly didn’t end well, and--  I don’t really want to allow someone to hurt me again.”

“That’s not fair Phoenix.”

“What’s not fair?”

“Erik ain’t your ex. It’s not fair to hold what that lame ass nigga did against him. You have to let that shit go.”

Phoenix looked away at nothing again. She knew he was right.

“Aye…” Coby tapped the table. Phoenix looks at him. “I’ma tell you this, but keep it between me and you.” Phoenix agrees with a nod. “My ex, she wasn’t shit. Fucked around on me with half the niggas in the industry. We were supposed to get married and everything but I called off all that shit when I found out what she was out here doing. Everybody knew but me.”

“Wait!” Phoenix interjected with wide eyes. “You were gonna get married, Coby?”

He kissed his teeth. “Yeah man. That was a few years ago and it has nothing to do with my point.”

Phoenix through her hands up in surrender.

“Anyways, as I was saying. I was done dirty but I didn’t let that shit stop me from going after Ava. I still found it in me to care about somebody. I treat her crazy ass like the queen that she is because that hurt shit is the past. Ava is my fresh start and clearly Erik is yours.”

“What makes you think that?”

“It’s all in  the music, Phoenix. I’m not stupid. I can always tell what you’re feeling based off what you write. You like Erik. Just let the shit happen.”

Phoenix nods. “I cannot believe you didn’t tell me you were engaged.” she says, trying to steer the conversation away from her and her alleged feelings for Erik.

Coby stands up from the table, picking up their plates. “Happened before I met you. Don’t like talking about it.”

He washed their plates and pans on the stove. Phoenix got up and started walking out. “I’ll be in the studio.”

-----------

The next few days, anxiety filled up in Phoenix. She counted the days down until Erik came back. She continued her stay at Coby’s with him and Ava to distract herself as much as she could. Erik’s return day came and went with no sign of him. He hadn’t texted her. She figured he would. But maybe he was tired and just wanted to rest. But when two more days passed and still no text from him, she figured she would take this ‘L’ like a champ and move on. She didn’t want to talk about it with Coby or Ava and she had lost her desire to make music. It would all be about Erik anyway. She didn’t want to do that to herself.

Phoenix stood over the bed in the guest room that she had rightfully deemed her room and packed up all of her stuff. Ava sat on the bed, watching her.

“You should just move in, Philly. Then we can all be together, all the time.” Ava says.

“You don’t even live here!” They hear Coby yell from his room, down the hall.

“Ain’t nobody even talking to you!” Ava yells back. Her and Phoenix share a look before laughing. “He be killing me, not minding his business.”

“But, speaking of you not living here. When was the last time you went home?” Phoenix asked.

Ava looked up to the ceiling in thought. “It’s been a couple weeks. I should probably go back though. I’m sure the food in my fridge is done for and I definitely need to wash some clothes.”

“Ew, A!” Phoenix laughs. She just shrugs. “Welp… I’m all packed up.”

Ava gives Phoenix a very dramatic sad face. “I’m gonna miss you.”

“Relax, love.” Phoenix places a petty hand on Ava’s shoulder. “A couple more weeks and we’ll be ass out on a beach.”

“Yes and then right after that… it’s your birthday.” Ava pokes her in her sides between words, tickling her.

“Stop! No need to be extra. It’s not that big of a deal.” Phoenix throws on her hoodie and slip her feet into her sneakers.

“You bet not say you don’t wanna do anything, because we’re doing something for your birthday.”

“Y’all can’t do it here!” Coby yells.

“SHUT UP!” “BE QUIET!” they yell back. Both rolling their eyes. Why was he listening so damn hard?

Phoenix goes down to Coby’s room where he’s playing 2k and she says her goodbyes to him. She tries to kiss him on the cheek and snaps back, away from her. “Gone with all that shit, Philly. Don’t you see I’m in a game?”

“This game can’t be that damn important if your ear hustling on what me and Ava talking about.”

“Nah, y’all niggas were loud. Which is why y’all need to get out my house.”

Ava storms into the room. “Fuck you! I ain’t going nowhere.” She smacks him in the back of the head, making him pause the game.

“Don’t be putting your little ass hands on me. You can get ya’ shit and leave with your friend.”

Ava leans down to his ear and whispers something to him that makes his eyebrows raise up into his hairline. He clears his throat. “You know what… you can stay, bae.” He looks to Phoenix, “I love you, Phoenix, but you have to go now. This was fun. It really was, but Ava will show you to the door.”

Phoenix is disgusted. “Y’all are gross. I’m out.” She turns on her heels, heading back into the guest room for her bags. Ava follows her downstairs and walks her out.

“Let me know when you get home, okay?” Ava gives Phoenix one of those long, auntie hugs. Back rubs and all.

-----

Phoenix sat at a red light when her phone started ringing over the speakers. When she looked to see who it was, she almost choked on her spit. It was Erik. He was facetiming her. He’s never actually called her before, let alone facetime. They only talked in person or text. Her palms become sweaty at a new record speed. She wiped her hand on her hoodie and hit the green button to answer. The street lights lit her face up enough for him to see her. She looked down into the phone to see his face almost covered with a hoodie over his head.

“Hey.” his voice was deep and raspy.

“Hey.”

The light turns green and Phoenix drives off, quickly looking away from the phone on the mount. He just watched her for a moment as she focused on the road and traffic. “You going somewhere?” he finally asked.

“I’m on my way home. Just left Coby’s.”

“Oh.”

She could tell he wanted to say something more than just ‘Oh.’ As she came to a stop at another red light, she focused her attention back to the phone. “What’s up, Erik?” her tone came out frustrated. He’s been back for days now and he hadn’t texted her at all. He randomly facetimes her and barely has anything to say. She was definitely annoyed with how this was going right about now. He could sense her frustration.

“Can I see you?”

“Sure.”

“How far are you from here?”

She drives off once again. “Like ten minutes.”

“Alright.” There’s movement on his end of the phone. “I’ll wait for you in the garage. See you when you get here.”

“Um… okay.”

The call ends and Phoenix is every bit of confused as to how she should take this. He hasn’t talked to her and now he wants to see her. What the fuck was happening right now?

She arrived in the parking garage of her apartment and Erik is waiting, standing outside his car. She decided to leave her bags in her backseat and gets out to go to him. As she approaches him, he motions to the car, opening the passenger door. “Ride with me somewhere.” Phoenix very hesitantly gets into his car. He gets in and drives off. The ride was silent. He was distant. Not the Erik she had become use to. He was so closed off and she wanted to ask, but didn’t really know how. She didn’t know what to say. She just rode. She laid back into the seat and just looked out the window. The car ride wasn’t long. They pulled into a parking lot and as Phoenix searched around, looking out of the windows, she realized they were at the beach. There weren't many people out. Just a few bodies walking around. Erik turned the car off and opens his door to get out. Phoenix follows. He spares her a look and starts walking onto the sand, toward an empty picnic table. Phoenix doesn’t follow him immediately. She watches him walk and takes note of the slight dip when he takes a step. He turns looking for her and expecting her to be right behind him. When she’s not,  he stops to wait. She slowly begins her journey to him. When she approaches him, he takes her hand in his and guides her the rest of the way to the picnic table. Erik steps up onto the table, sitting on the top of it. He leaves just enough room between his legs for Phoenix to sit. He pulls her up on the reserved seat. As she settles into her place between his thighs, he wraps his arms around her torso and rests his face on her shoulder.

Silence.

Neither of them talk. They sit. The moon’s light sits on top of the water before them and faint sounds of the city in the distance. The few people roaming the beach had left, leaving just them with one another. Phoenix listened to Erik’s steady breath in her right ear and the sounds of small waves in the left. She felt calm. The slight irritation she had with Erik had subsided.

The late night breeze flowed right off of the water and a shiver crept up Phoenix’s spine. Erik felt her shake and wrapped his arms around her body completely, holding her tighter.

“Better?” his baritone voice spoke low in her ear.

“Mhmm.” she rested her head back on him.

“I missed you.” he whispered.

Without thinking, Phoenix’s words flew from her mouth. “Then why didn’t you text me?”

“I just needed some space… some time to decompress or whatever.”

“I get that. I just would like to know that you’re okay.”

“I’m sorry. Not really used to having to check in with anybody.”

Phoenix lifted her body from his and turns to look at him. “Well, you don’t have to check in with me then.” she snapped.

Erik sighs. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’ll let you know next time.”

“Nah, you don’t have to worry about it.” she faces forward but folds her body into her lap. Erik pulls her back to him. She resisted at first but eventually submitted. Resting her body against his chest again. She felt defeated. He wrapped his arms around her again, placing his face in her neck. He doesn’t do anything. He just lays there, lips barely grazing her skin. Phoenix silently prayed he’d move, though she wanted him to stay.

“It won’t happen again. I’m sorry.” he said into her neck.

She took in a deep breath. Coby’s words popping up in her mind. ‘Let that shit go. Let Erik be your fresh start.’  

“I missed you too, Erik.”

His lips pressed firmly on her neck then. Her body melted more into his.

“Why are you so understanding?” he asked.

She shrugs. “It’s just who I am, I guess.”

“I don’t deserve you.”

“Why would you say that?”

He lifts his head, looking out at the water. Phoenix’s head falls back onto his chest. His grip around her loosens. “I’m no good for you. You’re too much of a good person for a nigga like me. I do terrible shit and you still find a way to be understanding about it.”

“...Erik.”

“Everything I touch dies, Phoenix. I don’t wanna ruin your life.”

“Shut up, Erik.”

“Phoenix--” She cuts him off and turns to face him again. She pulls the strings on his hoodie and moves her face closer to his. They’re eye to eye.

“I’m a grown ass woman. I make my own decisions, so if you ruin my life, it’ll be because I let you. I’m not scared of none of that shit you’re talking. I had my chance to cut you off when you told me that you’re basically an assassin. You mark your body for every fucking kill Erik. I tried counting them damn scars on your arms and I lost count… three times,” She dramatically throws up three fingers. “I’m understanding because I know what it’s like to only have yourself. I’m understanding because somebody has to be. Somebody has to be a safe space for you.”

Her words hit him right in the chest. Somebody has to be. Nobody had ever tried to be understanding of him. Nobody wanted to be and here this girl is, wanting to be that somebody. He felt a sense of safety with her that he couldn’t explain before and this confirmed everything he was feeling. This woman was special and the only explanation for how he got so lucky was that Bast herself, sent her to him. If that’s what Erik had to tell himself to accept what Phoenix was offering, he would. All Erik could do in this moment was smile. He hadn’t smiled once in the weeks he’d been gone.

Phoenix clutched her pearls. “Erik Stevens without his gold caps? Never thought I’d see the day.”

“Shut up.” He grabbed her face, squeezing her cheeks and connecting his lips with hers. He needed to do this. He wanted to since she met him in the parking garage. The kiss turned hot, very quickly. The smacking of their lips seem to quiet out the sounds of the waves hitting the shore. Phoenix gripped his hoodie, pulling him closer. Their awkward position making it hard to do so. She lifted her body from between his legs and straddled his lap. She didn’t miss a beat. Their lips never parted. Erik’s hands gripped her ass, holding her in place above him. Just as Phoenix sucked on his bottom lip, he pulled back.

“Fuck, girl.” he shakes his head, trying to come back to reality. Erik has kissed many, and I mean MANY of women. But none of them felt like this. She made him want her in every way possible. He wasn’t used to this feeling. But, Phoenix has a history of making him feel things he’s not used to feeling. Like, well… feelings. Erik never wanted to just be with someone just to be with them. If it wasn’t about sex, he didn’t care. But, Phoenix… he wanted to sit next to her, talk to her, hold her hand, watch tv with her. The simple things.  

“What I do?” she grinned.

“I want you so fucking bad.” the lust in his voice sent heat to her lady parts. She wanted him too. “But… if I’m gonna do this, I have to do it right.”

“What do you mean?”

“I would love to bend yo’ ass over this table right now and just…” He thrusted his body up into hers. Her mouth dropped in shock. He laughed at her reaction. “But, I wanna do right by you. I wanna take you out. I wanna show you a good time first.”

“You wanna court me, Stevens?” she smiles, linking her hands around his neck.

“Yeah. All that shit.”

“Damnn, okay. A bitch ain’t never had that before.” she says in her hoodrat voice.

“Me neither.” He laughed at her and pulled her back in for a few more pecks on the lips.

They continued to sit in this position. Phoenix laid on his shoulder and he rested his face in her neck, still gripping on to her thighs. She rubbed the back of his neck. They sat quietly with the sounds of the night traveled around them.

“E,” she whispered. He moaned in response. “Why the beach? What made you wanna come here?”

“I like to come here to clear my mind.”

“I’m enjoying this. I really am. But, I’m cold.”

His body bounced under hers as he laughed. “Well, I’m good now so we can go.”

Phoenix stands. Erik moves to stand up but pauses and sits back down. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

He drops his head in laughter. “Oh my God, man.”

“What!”

He slowly stands up and his erection is VERY visible through his light grey joggers. Phoenix’s mouth drops and she laughs. She knew he was big from when he chilled with her at her place and she breifly sat on his lap, but seeing this nigga print in these pants, let her know she slightly underestimated him. “And I Oop…” They both leaned over in laughter. Phoenix’s funny reaction was simply a way to stir her brain from the many questions she wanted to ask herself. Was she able to handle that? Ya’ know… when the time came? How big was this nigga? Has he murdered anybody by dick in his past? But she’ll tackle that one later. They were okay. Things were normal.

Erik readjusted himself and they walked back to his car. The ride back to their apartment was different than the ride to the beach. Phoenix connected her phone to his car’s bluetooth and played her music. The air was lighter on their drive. Erik’s hand found its place on her thigh and they both sung along to the songs that played.

-----------

Phoenix and Erik picked up right where they left off. He texted her every morning and they’d text through the entire day, ending the day with a facetime call. The nights she’d be up and in the studio, they’d text until he fell asleep, only to facetime him when she made it in and they’d both sleep with the other on screen until their phones died. It was like they were teenagers again. The butterflies, the cute text. They enjoyed each other.

——-

Phoenix was currently standing in her hallway, locking her door. Before making her way to the elevator she texted Erik.

Phoenix: What’s your code?

She was feeling bits of nervousness. This would be her first time going up to Erik’s apartment. The couple of weeks that Erik had been back seem to have flown by and  her vacation with her girls was coming up quick, Erik told Phoenix he wanted to see her before she left. They haven’t seen much of each other since he’s been back with her schedule being hectic. Phoenix had a lot of work and meetings to get through before her trip. She wanted to enjoy her vacation without any work related distractions. Her and Coby had been working tirelessly so the only time she could really see Erik was on their nightly FaceTime calls. He’d always miss her on the elevators.

Erik: 8176.

She pressed the elevator call button.

Phoenix: Great. My goons will be up in a minute to rob your ass.

Erik: Play with me if you want to. I’ll drop you and them niggas.

Phoenix: you wouldn’t do that to me. You would miss me too much.

Erik: maybe I would. Maybe I wouldn’t.

DING! The elevator doors opened and Phoenix stepped on. She typed in his code to enter the Penthouse floors. 8..1..7..6. The twelfth floor light lit up and the doors began to close. She texted Erik back.

Phoenix: I’m not coming up then.

Erik: stop playing baby girl. You know I would miss you.

Erik: I miss you right now.

Phoenix sticks her tongue out, blushing. She locks her screen. The closer she got to his floor, the tighter the knot in her stomach. She could feel her hands getting hot. She tried taking some deep breaths. The cabin stopped and the doors opened. She stepped out and looked to her left and to her right. There was an apartment door in both directions. Erik didn’t mention which direction his door would be. She unlocked her phone, calling Erik.

“Hey baby girl. Where you at?”

“Um, I’m in the hallway. You never told me if your door is to the left or right of the elevators.”

“Oh shit. My bad. The right.”

Phoenix goes right and the door begins to open. Erik steps out with a smile sitting beautifully on his face. He made Nike shirts look like the most exquisite shirts on the market. His dreads were pulled up into a pineapple. The smell of seasoned chicken flowed out into the hallway meeting Phoenix as she greeted him with a hug. He steps aside, letting her in. First glance and Phoenix was stunned. The sleek and modern black and gold decor was designed perfectly. The high ceilings and floor to ceiling glass windows gave the most amazing view of the city. She walked in, looking around, noticing the African Art along the walls.

“Ohhhh, he got moneyyy!”

“Would you like a tour?”

She whipped her head around to him. “Yes, actually. I would.”

“C’mon.”

She follows him as he leads her more into his penthouse. They walk through his huge living room where he has the largest sectional couch that Phoenix has ever seen. It looked so comfy and she couldn’t wait to get lost in it. A 90” tv set on a stand in front of it.

“Full bar over there.” he points to underneath the stairs. “Dining area. Kitchen.” He takes her hand and leads her past the kitchen into a hallway. There are two doors to right. The first is a guest bathroom. The second door is a guest bedroom.

“Damn, Stevens! Your guest room is bigger than my living room. Go off with your rich ass.”

“You’re silly, baby girl. C’mon, we’re going upstairs.”

They make their way back into the main area to go upstairs. She follows him up and notices his pants hanging low on his waist. This nigga has cake.

“Damn, you kinda thick, E.” she pats him. He stops mid step and turns to give her the straightest face.

“Don’t do that shit again.”

She puts her hands up in surrender. “My bad big booty E.”

“Chill.” They continue their trip up the stairs and the space before them was big enough to be another living room. There were some workout equipment, neatly stacked against the wall.

“Oh this is where you be growing ya’ cheeks at.”

“Phoenix, you got one more time to mention my ass before I put you out.”

“Alright, alright. I’m done.” she smirks at him.

He takes her through some sliding doors that lead to his bedroom. The walls were white with a dark grey accent wall behind his bed. A TV was up on the wall between his large windows. The shades were down, blocking out the cities lights. His california king bed dressed in black and purple. A large black panther picture hung on the wall.

“I have an idea, E.” Phoenix says, rubbing her chin.

“What’s that?”

“I move into this room and you take the one downstairs.”

“You sound crazy. You could just join me in this one.” he winks at her.

“Nope. I need all of this to myself.”

“Nah. I come with it. All or nothing. If you don’t like it, you can stay in your shoebox downstairs.”

Phoenix’s mouth drops and she clutches her chest. “First of all, I love my shoebox.”

He wraps his arm around her shoulders. “C’mon, we’re almost done with the tour.”

She walks with him to the other side of his room and through another set of sliding doors. They step into his master bathroom. His shower had three shower heads and a bench. The tub sat in front of a large window and another tv was on the wall in front of it. “I’m sold. I might have to take you up on your offer now.”

“Oh now you want me?”

“Technically,” she put a finger up. “I never said that I didn’t.”

“You’re something else.” He walks out and she follows him. Right outside the bathroom’s doors was a small hallway that lead into his closet. He turned on the lights, revealing his amazing collection of clothes, sneakers, jackets, and a jewelry case full of chains and watches and few pair of earrings. Straight ahead was a large mirror. Phoenix walked right passed his clothes. Fuck his clothes honestly. The white light in the closet made for good lighting and the mirror called her to take the perfect picture.

“OH! It’s picture time.” She pulled out her phone, snapping a full cute pics, catching her body at all of the right angles. As she tried to get a new position, she noticed Erik leaning against the wall behind her. She hadn’t realized that he was visible in her pictures before. She stopped and looked at him.

“What?” he was lost as to why she was giving him the stink look.

“Get out my picture.”

He rolled his eyes, stepping out of her camera’s view. She snapped a few more pictures.

“Are you done?” he called out. She walks back to him.

“Yes. All done. Thanks.”

He turns off the lights and they both leave out of his room. As they walked toward the stairs, he points to a door on the other side, “That’s my office. I’m redoing it right now so it’s a mess in there.”

They go downstairs and into the kitchen where the food Erik had cooked sat on the stove. He made stuffed chicken, cheesy, garlic potatoes and grilled asparagus. Phoenix sat in the wooden barstool at the kitchen island as he prepared their plates.

“Red or White?” he asked without turning around.

“Hmm, white.”

Erik placed two plates of food on the counter in front of her. He grabbed two wine glasses from a cabinet, placing one in front of her. “You’re a sweet kind of woman aren’t you?”

“Yes. How did you know?”

“Lucky guess.” He walks away out of her sight. When he comes back, he has a bottle of Moscato. He effortlessly pops the cork and pours into their glasses. He takes his seat next to her, pulling her seat closer to him. He grabbed her chin, bringing their faces just a breath from each other. He licks his lips and places a peck on hers, making a small closed mouth smirk appear on hers. “Eat up, baby girl.”

Phoenix pulled away from him. “You don’t tell me what to do, Stevens.” She picks up her fork and starts eating. He watches her with prey like eyes.

“We’ll see about that.” he finally says with a low tone before digging into his food.

As they enjoyed their meal, they talked about random things. How they’re sick of the construction outside of their building. Phoenix has a hair appointment the next day. Nothing major. Well about halfway through dinner, the conversation shifted.

“So,” Erik sat his fork down. “Your birthday is coming up. You and your crew planning something?”

Phoenix sipped her wine. “My crew? No. This vacation is enough for me. I don’t wanna do anything really.”

“I thought the trip was Camrens’s birthday gift?”

“It is. But, I don’t know, it’s right before mine so I’m okay with just that.”

“Why?” He was watching the side of her face.

“Not really a birthday person.”

“I’ve never met a woman that wasn’t a birthday person.”

She finally looks at him. “I mean, as a kid, I was. But the older I got, it just seemed so… extra. I would only do something because my brother wanted to.”

“Brother?!” Erik’s eyebrows raised high. “You have a brother?”

Phoenix rolls her eyes. “Yeah. A twin, actually. Zion.”

“You’ve never mentioned having a brother.”

“Because…” she takes a sip. “We don’t talk. He don’t fuck with me and I don’t fuck with him.” Her demeanor changed. Phoenix is tense now. She clenches and unclenches her jaw and the slight eye rolls as she talks let Erik know that her brother is a trigger. He waited patiently for her to figure out her words before she continued. “I don’t hate him. I just-- I don’t know.”

Erik turns his body to face her and let her know that she has his full attention. “You don’t have to talk about it.” She cups her glass with both hands, slowly taking sips. There’s a beat of silence.

“I’m here.” She began. Her voice small. “I’m living a decent life, doing what I love to do and he’s not.” she shrugs. “He hates me for that.”

“Hate is a strong word.”

“He hates me, E. He said it. He’s convinced himself that I just have hella money and because I won’t move him out here and pay his way through school or fund any of his ideas, I’m not a good sister. He’s the only boy in the family, so everybody has always babied his big ass. I’m not doing that. I’ve worked hard. I’ve earned everything that I have. He can do the same.”

“I understand that. Ain’t shit free.”

She looks at him in disbelief. Everyone (her family and old friends from back home) felt like she was being too harsh on her brother for wanting him to put in some kind of work. They had always just given him what he wanted, no matter the cost. Phoenix had worked for everything. She had a job at 16 while her brother did whatever he wanted. He was given his first car from an uncle while Phoenix saved up her money to get herself one. That same car she saved up for is the same car that she drove to California. Everyone excused her brother actions because he was just a free spirit. Phoenix was too but she still had some discipline.

“Why you look at me like that?” Erik asked.

“Because… you’re the first person to actually agree with me.”

“Hell yeah, I agree with you! That nigga better get a damn job.” That made her laugh. “Phoenix and Zion though. Interesting names for twins.”

“Our names were gonna be Zues and Megara since Hercules was my mama’s favorite movie.” Erik burst into laughter. “Thank God my grandma threw a bible at her ass and put a stop to that.” Phoenix joined in on the laughing.

Erik wiped a tear from his eyes, his laughter calming down. “Oh man. Speaking of names though. Can I tell you a secret?”

“Let me guess, Erik isn’t your real name or something?” she says, jokingly. Erik just looks at her, eyebrows raised. His silence answering his question. She slams her hand on the counter. “ERIK ISN’T YOUR REAL NAME?” she starts to raise up from the barstool. “Oh, fuck this. I’m out.”

Erik stops her, grabbing her arm. “Hold up. Hold up.” she snatches her arm from his hold. “Hear me out.” she motions for him to continue. “Technically, Erik is my name, but I also have my Wakandian name.”

“You better not be fucking with me.”

“I’m dead serious. I’m Erik Stevens but my real name is N’Jadaka.”

Phoenix takes a deep breath, staring at him like he has three heads. A whole minute passed with her just looking at him.  “I need more wine.” she finally says.

“Nah,” Erik stands, taking Phoenix’s hand, “ I know what you need.

Some dick! Her brain screamed at her. “What’s that?”

She followed him to the couch. He turned on the tv and picked up a blunt from the coffee table. They lean into each other, shoulder to shoulder as Erik lights the blunt, taking two drags of it and passing it to Phoenix. She takes a hit, holding in the smoke longer than she needed and slowly blowing it out. They passed the blunt back and forth until it was gone. They settled into the couch as Naruto played on the tv. Phoenix had come clean during one of their late night facetime calls that she started watching the show while he was gone and that she really liked it. They agreed to watch it together and here they were. As their highs hit them more, Erik dimmed the lights in the living room and got comfortable laying on Phoenix’s lap. They remained in this position until Phoenix’s legs were numb. She repositioned herself under him to lay fully on her back and he placed his body over hers, resting his head on stomach. He was heavy but she liked it. She wanted him to stay there forever.

Phoenix had been absentmindedly playing in Erik’s locs for an entire episode. When she realized what she was doing, she stopped. His hand came out of nowhere and placed her hand back in his hair. She giggled and continued rubbing his scalp again. She looked down at him and noticed that his eyes were closed. This man was falling asleep.

“Erik…” she called him softly.

“Hm.” he moaned.

“Are you sleep?”

“I’m resting my eyes.” his voice was low and raspy. He was definitely asleep. Phoenix waited a couple minutes before calling his name again, but this time she didn’t receive a response. She pulled out her phone, opening her front camera and took a picture of them. Erik’s face buried in her stomach and her fingers, tangled in his locs. She then opened her Instagram, swiping to make a story. A boomerang of course. She made one with the caption ‘Niggas be like, I’m just resting my eyes.’ She posted it and sat her phone down on the floor. She was pretty tired herself but the truth is, she didn’t want to leave. She wanted to stay right here, under him. So she did.

--------

Erik naturally woke up a little after  7am. He wanted to lay with Phoenix longer but his body was so used to waking up early, he knew he had to just get up. As soon as he moved from off of her, she curled up into the fetal position. He grabbed a blanket, placing it over Phoenix’s now balled up body. He stood over her, admiring how peaceful she looked while sleep. He then headed upstairs into his bathroom to brush his teeth and wash his face. He changed into some compression pants and basketball shorts. He remained shirtless and went out to his workout area and began his at home workout.

An hour later, he was sweaty and tired. He checked over the railing to see Phoenix still asleep. She was still balled up in the same spot. He laughed to himself remembering that she never wakes up before noon. He goes back into his bathroom to shower and change into some fresh clothes. He left his locs to lay wildly over his face and came back downstairs to clean up last night’s dishes. The clanking of the dishes and ruffles of the dishwasher still didn’t get Phoenix to wake up. She was a hard sleeper. The opposite of Erik. Maybe it was his Navy training, but Erik could hear wind shift directions in his sleep. It was still early, just after 10. He’s let her sleep in some more.

He sat near her on the couch to watch some tv and lazily scrolled through his phone. He opened the Instagram app and the first thing he noticed was Phoenix’s profile picture at the top of his screen, glowing pink. He tapped it and the boomerang of them played over and over. He looked at her from the corner of his eye. He did everything he could to conceal the grin that threatened to appear on his face as if someone was watching. He watched it more times than he would care to admit. Phoenix began to stir in her sleep. One of her feet poked out from under the blanket. Her sock was missing and her neon pink toes struggled to find shelter under his thigh. He picked up her foot, setting it on his lap and started massaging her foot. He did this while watching tv until his fingers were tired.

It was approaching noon and Phoenix still hadn’t budged. She had a hair appointment in a few hours and Erik knew it was time to wake her. He softly shook her leg, calling her name.

“Philly. C’mon, baby girl. Get up.”

“Hm?” she moaning from under the blanket.

“Get up.”

He had to shake her a little harder for her to actually wake up. She sat up, stretching her arms over her head. She looked disheveled-- her hair were all over her head, she looked confused about where she was and she was missing a sock.

“Morning, baby girl.” He sat back, rubbing her unsocked foot again.

“Morning.” she yawned. She stared blankly ahead, trying to process that she’s awake now. The fresh scent of his body lotion traveled under her nose and she looked at him, taking in the fact that he was fully dressed and looked damn good.

“You smell good.” her tired voice rung out.

“Thank you.”

“How long have you been up?”

“Like seven thirty.”

She shook her head, “Early as fuck,” She rubbed the sleep from her eyes. “What time is it now?”

“Almost noon. Figured I’d wake you up so you’re not late for your hair appointment.”

Phoenix shifted her body and laid her head on his lap. “I don’t want to go to that.”

“Nah, Phoenix. Get yo’ ass up. You’re not about to blame me for your hair not being done later.”

Phoenix moaned in protest. He slipped his hand in her curls, rubbing her head. “How am I supposed to get up and you’re doing shit like this?”

He stopped and lifted her up from him. He held her chin, “Because… you need to go wash your hair, wash your face, brush them teeth and put some lotion on this ashy ass foot you had on me.”

She swatted his hand from her face. “You can suck my ass, Erik. My foot ain’t ashy.”

“I’ll do more than suck your ass, baby girl.” he licked his lips. Phoenix watched closely as his tongue grazed his lips. She had zoned out, flashing back to all of the dreams that she’s been having of him doing just what he said. Her breathing hitched and pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. The snapping of his fingers in front of her face, snatched her from her mind.

“Hm?”

He raised a brow at her. “You were thinking about me sucking your ass, huh?”

“What-- No!”

“Mhm.” he chuckled.

“I see you want to start with me early today.” she says as she stands and searches under the blanket for her sock.

“Early? Girl, half the damn day is gone.”

“Whatever. It’s early to me.” She finds her sock and sits down to put it on. She fills on the floor for her phone, checking it and seeing that the group chat with her friends is currently up in flames with 23 unread messages. She swipes to open the thread and finds that she’s butt of their jokes.

Mica: I know Phoenix up. She’s avoiding us right now.

Camren: lmao. That’s because Erik giving her that morning wood.

Mica: Right! “Niggas be like” head ass.

Ava: She think she slick too. Y’all notice how she made sure you couldn’t see his face?

Camren: yessss! No face. No Case.

Mica: lmfao.

“Oh my goodness.” Phoenix drags a hand over her face.

“What’s wrong?”

“My crew as you call them, they’re lighting my ass up right now about something I posted on Instagram.”

“Oh, that boomerang?” Her head snapped in his direction. “Yeah, I seen that.” he bit his lip to stop himself from smiling.

“How did you see that?”

“I follow you.”

“What? When-- when did you follow me?”

Erik shifted his focus to his phone, looking unbothered at the fact that he just snitched on himself. “I been following you.”

“Since when?”

“Don’t worry about all that. Stop being fake bougie and follow me back.”

Phoenix was stunned that she didn’t know this information. She felt exposed. “This is weird. What’s your name?”

He snatched her phone from her hands and searched his name @Kingkill_ . His page was private so he requested a follow from her page. He exited out of the app and opened her messages, going to her group chat. Phoenix watched, confused as to what he was going to do. He tapped the photo icon and the camera popped up on screen.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

Erik pushed Phoenix down onto her back, and straddled himself over her. She tried to grab the phone but he held her wrist in place and tapped the red button to record. He started dramatically humping her and laughing.

“Get off me nigga.” she shouted.

“Hold on, baby. I’m almost done.”

One of Phoenix’s hands broke free from his grip and she swung on him, reaching for her phone. He jumped up and ran. She pushed herself up from the couch going after him. He ran into his guest bedroom and locked the door. Phoenix banged on the door, shouting for him to open the door.

“I will break this bitch down. Open the door Erik.”

“Try it if you want to.”

Erik leaned his large figure against the shaking door. He proceeded to send the compromising video to her friends in the group chat. After hitting send, he unlocks the door and Phoenix stands there looking pissed with her arms folded over her chest. He hands her the phone and she snatches it and storms off.

“You really mad?” He goes after her.

She tries her best to not break her fake mad face. But seeing him laugh at her, she couldn’t hold it. “You play too much. They’re about to drag my ass.”

“C’mere.” He grabbed her and wrapped his arms around her, placing kisses all over her face. “You like it on the low.” She pushed herself off of him.

“I have to go get my hair done. I’ll see your childish ass later.”

As she turned to go put on her shoes, Erik smacks her on her butt and follows her to the door. All ready to go, she goes in for a hug and quickly gripped his face in her small hand and blew her breath in his face. The smile on his face dropped and snatched his face away. “You nasty! Get out of my house.”

Phoenix broke down in laughter. “That’s what you get for playing.”

[calamity-callie]

New Beginnings ~ Wiztober Day 1

Edited by @spiralcompendium

“So.” The single, stern word broke a heavy silence that had been present since their private airship left the port in Hamamitsu. “How was your first year at the Imperial City Dragon Academy?” Alia flinched. They had been hoping and praying that this question would never come but knew it was inevitable. ‘Why did it have to be this soon though?’ they cried internally, cursing themself for not already having a full speech prepared for this. “Well?” their mother snipped impatiently, interrupting Alia’s thought process. Under pressure to deliver positive results, they opened their mouth to reply and a flood of words poured out.

“Dragon Academy? Oh, it was great!!! The Imperial City is such a cool place, and I loved seeing the inside of the Imperial Palace - did you know it contains 75 bedrooms?! 75!!! Also -”

“Alia,” came the first interruption.

“Also it turns out I have a natural talent for gardening! See I joined the gardening club and I was the only first year in the history of the school to actually raise a maelstrom snap dragon to elder! A Maelstrom! Snap! Dragon! That’s senior level stuff!!! Oh oh also -”

“Alia…” their mother interrupted again, this time with slightly more insistence.

“- alsoalsoalso it turns out I’m real good at alchemy, too! So much so that a potions vendor in the city took me as an apprentice! My first job, and something I love too! Can you believe it?!?!? Also also oh oh also also also -”

“ALIA!” The third interruption came as a full on yell. They gasped, taken aback by the intensity. “You know exactly what I mean. I don’t care about your extracurricular activities, your clubs, or how many bedrooms the palace has. Your grades. Let me see them.”

“Well, I got one A, uhhhh...” Alia trailed off, panicking. Their off-the-cuff plan hadn’t turned out quite how they hoped. As they desperately tried to brainstorm ways to stall for more time though, their mother, growing ever more impatient, demanded yet again, “Show me your grades. Now.”

Defeated, a crestfallen Alia opened up their bag, pulled out an official looking envelope, and handed it off without a word. The seconds felt like hours as their mother peeled off the wax seal, opened the top flap, and pulled out the parchment inside. Her face morphed from concentration, to confusion, to rage. She opened her mouth as if to yell, but at the last second changed her mind. Putting the sheet back into the envelope, she simply said, “We will discuss this with your father when we get home.” Not a single word was uttered for the rest of the flight.

Some hours later, the two arrived at their home in Kembaalung. Their father initially greeted them with a smile and open arms, but their mother quickly trotted over to him and they began talking in hushed tones. After a moment their father turned with a grim face and said, “Alia. Go to your room. We will call you when we are ready to talk.” 

“Talk. Great. They want to Talk.” Alia laid on their bed, speaking their thoughts aloud, thankful for the magical soundproofing their parents tended to use during their private conversations. Looking over at the bookshelf on the opposite wall, they contemplated how things ever got to this point. The shelf was full of thick tomes on dragon magic: grimoires they could remember being forced to read and memorize for hours at a time, beginning as soon as they learned to read. They had every word of every thick volume on that shelf memorized, but not a single line made any sense. This collection of facts served them well enough to pass the entrance exam though, and they held out hope that maybe actual teaching would be the missing link; maybe seeing these incomprehensible concepts in action would be all it took to help them finally understand this strange breed of magic. Unfortunately as the school year wore on, they only found themself falling farther and farther behind, and though they aced every written test, they never managed to cast a single spell.

“I really just am a failure aren’t I,” they muttered, burying their face in a pillow. Their mind began to race with all sorts of possibilities. “I’m going to get lectured, I’m gonna be confined to the indoors for the whole season reading these awful books again and again, I’m gonna be kicked out, they’re never going to want to talk to me again, I’m a disappointment to the whole family…” Their thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a loud knock. Jolted out of their downward spiral, Alia slowly crawled out of bed and opened the door. Their parents, stiff and stern as ever, marched in as Alia sat back down on their bed. The silence was thick with tension when their father opened his mouth to speak.

“We are��� disappointed in you, Alia. You failed every class.” The lecture began in a smooth yet stern tone, but Alia wasn’t fooled. The escalation was imminent. “I just… I just can’t believe you failed every class!” A thick lump began to form in their throat as his speech heated up. “You studied those books every day! You had everything memorized and aced the entrance exam! All of our hopes were riding ON YOU, ALIA!” As the lecture finally escalated to full on yelling, they felt tears begin to well up but tried their best to force them down as the lecture continued. “Have you forgotten that we are the oldest clan of warrior monks in all of Mooshu??? And now thanks to THIS-” he held up the parchment, displaying all seven failing marks, and the single passing grade “- OUR TRADITION IS OVER!! OVER!! DO YOU UNDERSTAND HOW MUCH YOU HAVE FAILED US??? WHERE DID WE GO WRONG!?!?!?!”

Alia stood up and burst into tears. “I don’t know what more you want from me okay??? I read your stupid books, I memorized your stupid facts, I did everything you wanted me to do, but you never even cared about what I WANT!” Her father prepared to yell in response, but before he could Alia shouted again, “I never wanted to be a STUPID FUCKING WARRIOR MONK ANYWAY! I HATE YOU!!! I HATE YOU!!!!!” With that, they stormed out of the house, leaving a deafening silence behind.

Dusk began to fall as Alia sat on a bench next to a frozen lake. Though it was the middle of summer, Kembaalung was always cold and snowy, and this night was no exception. They huddled in a blanket and began to sob uncontrollably. How had their life come to this? Through the frozen tears their mind began to wander into dark places again. “Where will I spend the night? Nobody here will take me in, they’re all monks… I don’t even have any friends… Does anyone even really care? I could just sit here on the bench and freeze…” 

Their thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a splash of green in their peripheral vision. They turned to look and, despite the freezing temperatures, a single young plant had sprouted out of the snow. Alia got up, walked over to it, then kneeled down, cupping their hands around the base. “You understand what it’s like, don’t you?” they muttered. With a pang of empathy, they cupped their hands closer and started softly singing. The snow around the plant began to melt as a single sunbeam materialized, piercing the night seemingly from nowhere. Alia sang louder and closed their eyes, truly becoming engulfed in their song, letting the melody flow through their entire body. As if channeling power from old Bartleby himself, the sprout grew, slowly at first but then quite rapidly. When the song came to an end, Alia, feeling calm and peaceful for the first time all day, opened their eyes. Before them was a now tall, proud sunflower towering in defiance over the whole cold landscape. They stared in awe for a short time, but were again snapped out of it upon hearing footsteps in the snow from behind.

“So it seems you do have a knack for gardening then.” The sharp voice instantly brought Alia back to reality. They turned their head and saw their mother standing there, arms folded. “I’ve come to collect you. Now, come.” Alia began to protest but realized that they didn’t have much choice. They grudgingly began following her back to the family home. 

The next morning, Alia trudged downstairs, awaiting the fallout of yesterday’s scene. As expected, both parents were seated and silently gestured for Alia to join them. As they sat down, their father began speaking. “Your mother told me of everything that happened at the lake last night. You channeled the Song of Creation, didn’t you?” Alia gasped, but before they could speak, their father continued. “We have decided you will enroll in Ravenwood, effective immediately. You are free to choose your own path from there.” Alia’s face lightened up for a moment as her father continued. “But there will be conditions. You may no longer associate yourself with our family. You no longer share our last name, you no longer share our lineage. You will be welcome here for short visits until you come of age, at which point you will be expected to find your own way. Do you accept this arrangement?”

 Alia sat, dumbstruck at what had just laid out before them. Leaving their home forever was a terrifying proposition, but after only a single minute of thought, they confidently said, “Yes. I accept.”

For the first time in their life, Alia saw shock on their parent’s faces. It was soon wiped off and replaced by the typical stony looks, but it was unmistakable. “V-very well,” their father stammered as the shock wore off. “We depart immediately. Your first day is tomorrow.”

------ One Week Later ------

Alia sat alone at a table in one of the many Wizard City student dining facilities, again deep in thought. “Was it even worth coming here?” they asked themself. “Classes are fine I guess, but I haven’t met any friends here, I don’t know anyone who lives here at all, my parents will probably never want to see me again… Oh, what have I gotten myself into this time… Maybe they’ll take me back if I ask -” 

“Mind if I sit here?”

The voice snapped them out of their spiral of thoughts as a girl who looked to be about the same age as them sat down. “First week’s rough, huh? I struggled to adjust at first too, but don’t worry, it’s gonna be great! Heyyyy, now that I think of it, I’ve seen you in some of my classes, haven’t I? You’re Alia, right?”

“Yeah, that’s me,” Alia responded somewhat hesitantly, holding out their hand to shake.

“My name’s Keira,” she said as she ignored the hand and went in for a full hug. “And I can already tell we’re gonna be best friends!”

[dreamgirl4certain]

The Elevator Bae

SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

Erik Stevens x Black OC (Phoenix)

A/N: Just some cute shit here. | Song lyrics referenced are not my own. They are from a song by MILA J x Me and You. **I will be referencing lyrics from her music in the future. I picture her style of music when Phoenix’s is writing music. And I barely did any proofreading so my bad from the bottom of my heart.

Word Count: eh, idk. a lot.

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

“I missed you so fucking much, baby girl.”

“I missed you too, E.” Phoenix huffed between words. Erik’s heavy figure above hers. His head rested in the crook of her neck as he placed wet kisses on her skin. She dug her fingertips into his back as he stroked her slow and deep. Her eyes stuck shut, moan trapped in her throat when she felt a vibration under her body. Where is this coming from?

Phoenix’s body jerked up and she looked around, realizing she was on her couch. It was dark out now and her tv screen paused with Netflix asking if she was still there. Her phone was ringing under her. That’s when it all hit her. She was dreaming. This was the third night in a row that dreamt of him. Three dreams, night after night of Erik doing all of the right things to her. Why is this happening to her?

Erik had been gone for ten days. The first few days, she poured herself into her work. She set up her equipment in her living room and did the best that could. remixing beats she already had and doing some writing. But has the days went on, she found herself thinking about Erik more and more. Thinking about how good he felt when she kissed him. Missing him, but she did everything but actually admit that to herself. She started watching Naruto because it was his favorite show, but she told herself it was because Netflix suggested it. She went out and bought two cases of Merinelli’s Apple Juice. But of course, not because he liked it, but because she ‘enjoyed the juice of apples.’ She told herself that he probably wasn’t even thinking about her. He’ll probably come back and not even bother talking to her again. Two weeks was more than enough time for him to realize that she wasn’t it and she should just prepare herself now, for that.

None of it worked, though she refused to accept the truth that she missed Erik. It ate her up inside that she couldn’t talk to him. He stayed in her mind constantly. She hated to like it.

“This is ridiculous.” She said to herself as she felt under her legs for her phone.

One missed call from Coby. She swiped the notification, selecting Call Back. When he answered, she could hear nothing but pure joy in his voice.

“PHILLY!” he yelled into the phone.

“Hey!” She pulled the phone away from her face and put it on speaker phone.

“My studio is done.”

Phoenix sat up, snatching the phone, bringing it closer to her face. “What! Say swear!”

“I swear. It’s finally done. You gotta come break it in.”

Coby had been working on building a studio in his home. Fully equipt. He promised that when it was done, she’d be the first person he called and she would be the first to record something in it. Before Phoenix could even express her excitement, Ava had taken over the phone call.

“Yeah, Philly. You might as well pack you a bag or three and come on.”

“A bag? Fuck she need a bag for?” Coby says.

“So she won’t have to leave. You know damn well y’all are about to be living in that damn room.”

“Bet!” Phoenix said. “I’m on my way.”

“Yay! We’re having a sleepover!” Ava yells into the phone. “See you when you get here.”

Phoenix ends the call. She rushes into her room to pack some clothes. She may or may not have packed enough to practically move in. She stuffed as much as she could in her giant Victoria Secret PINK duffle. Along with her face and hair products. She looked around to make sure she had everything. Her laptop was on the floor. She could NOT leave without that. She put it in her backpack with its charger and an extra phone charger and headed out the door. She texted Ava.

Phoenix: Be there in 20 minutes.

-------

Coby’s studio was her dream studio. It was huge. As soon as she walked in, purple lights glowed along the bottom of the soundproof glass that separated them from the recording booth. Coby turned on the lights that revealed all black decor and dark, hardwood floors. Phoenix walked in stroking her fingertips along the new equipment. Ava came in, sitting on the couch.

“You peep that?” Ava says, pointing to something inside of the recording booth. Phoenix goes inside to see. She looks up to see a huge black and white picture of her and Coby from when they were in the studio some time ago. One of Coby’s photographer friends had stopped by and took a few cool shots of them. Coby has the picture enlarged on a canvas and placed on the wall inside of the recording booth.

“Oh my gosh, Coby!” she grabbed his arms, shaking him.

Seeing her jump with joy, brought on the biggest smile that man has ever worn. “You like it?”

“I love it! What made you pick this one?”

“Well, we’re a team now, remember? I figured it was only right to put up a picture of me and my partner.”

“Aww… we haven’t come up with a cool name yet though.”

“We’ll figure that out in due time. But you like everything?”

“YES!”

Coby showed her around to look at everything that he had installed. Of course Phoenix’s favorite part was the fully stocked mini fridge and weed cabinet that held all of their smoking necessities. Phoenix wouldn’t be quiet about how proud of him she was. He had been working on this studio for months. He designed the entire thing himself.

They immediately got to work. Phoenix was so excited about the studio, and to be with her friends, she finally got her mind off of Erik… for now.  She was able to zone into her work. They created their first beat from scratch in the new space. Just as Ava had predicted, once Phoenix and Coby were in the studio, they were there for the rest of the night. After a few hours, Ava left them and went to bed. It was well into the next morning before the two of them had fallen asleep in the studio. They refused to leave.

--------

The next afternoon, Phoenix enjoyed a hot shower and co-washed her hair. She lotioned up with her favorite vanilla shea butter. She moisturized her hair and washed her face. She put on some sweatpants and a t-shirt. Just as she was applying some chapstick, Ava facetimes her.

“Morning!” Ava cheerfully says into the phone.

“Morning, love.”

“Get down here. I made food. I wanna see you before I leave out.”

“Where you goin’?” Phoenix says as she starts walking out of her chosen guest room to meet Ava and Coby down in the kitchen.

“I have a brand meeting.”

“Alright. I’m coming down the stairs.”

Ava ends the facetime call. Phoenix walks down the large staircase and through the hallway. She can see Coby sitting at the kitchen table. She joins him. They share a look before both breaking into smiles.

“You want eggs?” Ava asks Phoenix from the stove.

“Sure.”

Ava brings Phoenix a full plate of food. Phoenix pours herself some cranberry juice, mixing it with orange juice. Coby watches her mix the two drinks with furrowed brows. “Why do you that? That’s weird.”

“It’s delicious actually.” she takes a sip. “You should try it.”

“Nah, I’m good.”

The three of them sit and eat their food. Ava asked them about what they created in the studio and the way their faces lit up was enough to let her know they had a great session, breaking in the new studio. They played her the song they made. As the beat broke through the speaker, Phoenix’s voice rides the beat effortlessly. Ava squealed in excitement, hearing her friend singing.

Just me and you // nobody gon' break this up, this magic My nigga, my babe, nobody comes before me and you Numero uno, you know you my baby What had these bitches off of you lately?

“You sound so good!” Ava says. “You should drop this yourself.”

“I told her ass last night, that she should drop some music.” Coby adds.

Phoenix shakes her head. “Y’all crazy. Ain’t nobody trying to hear me sing.”

“You’re crazy! You telling me that you’ve never thought about releasing some of those songs you have locked away? You have a pretty voice, Philly. I think people would love you.”

“It’s crossed my mind, but I’m good.”

Ava rolled her eyes at her. Coby checks the time on his phone. “You better get out of here before you’re late. Traffic probably already crazy.” Ava takes one last sip of her drink. She gets up from the table, picking up her dishes and taking them to the sink.

“Don’t worry about those. I got it.” Coby says.

Ava leaves her dishes and starts out of the kitchen. “I’ll see y’all in a couple hours.”

Coby listened out to hear the front door open and close. As soon as he did, he looks at Phoenix. She’s so into her food, that she didn’t notice at first. When she did, she locked eyes with him and they stared at each other until one of them blinked first. Phoenix’s eyes couldn’t take it and she blinked. “Fuck!”

“I don’t know why you think you can beat me.”

“Nobody should be able to go that long without blinking. Something is wrong with you.”

Coby continues to stare at her as she eats. As he watches her, he notices that she checks her phone every few seconds. She’s not usually the type to be so caught up with her phone. She checks it again, this time, locking it and flipping it over.

“What’s up with you?” he asks.

“Hm? What are you talking about?”

“You keep checking your phone. You expecting a call or something?”

“No.” she says quickly.

Coby smirks. “You waiting on Erik to text you?”

Her face drops and she rolls her eyes, trying to avoid looking in his direction. “No. I was-- I was just checking the time.”

Coby notices the change in her demeanor and the protector in him activates. “What happened? That nigga do something?” His words came out slightly louder than how he was talking before. They were stern.

“No,” she waves him off. “Nothing happened. I haven’t even talked to him.”

“Why not?”

Phoenix looks at him in disbelief. She feels like she’s getting grilled by her Mom. “He’s away right now… for work.”

“And he can’t talk to you? What the fuck do he do?”

Phoenix isn’t getting out of this conversation so she surrenders and figures she’d just answer Coby’s questions. She sits her fork down and leaned back in her chair. “He’s in the Navy. He had to leave for two weeks.” she says, figuring it was the safest answer. She can’t be telling people he’s hired to take people out.

“Hm. When did he leave?”

“Last Tuesday.”

“You must have gave that nigga some good-bye pussy or something.”

“Wha-- No!”

‘Then why you actin’ weird?” Coby tries to catch Phoenix’s eye to see if she’s lying. She avoids him by looking off at nothing in the kitchen.

“I’m not acting weird. You are. Asking me all of these damn questions.” she snapped.

“You are acting weird. I’m just trying to make sure you good and I don’t have to kill that nigga. I bring his name up and you get all tense and shit.”

Phoenix doesn’t respond. She looks down and picks at her fingers. Coby patiently waits for her to give him something. When she doesn’t, he tries to push a little more. Phoenix is good for keeping things locked in. But not on his watch.

“Aye,” she looks at him. “Talk to me. What’s the problem?”

She takes a deep breath. “I’m just… I don’t know.”

“Phoenix.” his voice was stern.

“I think I’m scared.”

“Scared of what?” Coby leaned onto the table, all ears.

“I- I can’t believe I’m about to tell you this.” He motioned for her to go on. “I’ve only ever been with one person and that clearly didn’t end well, and--  I don’t really want to allow someone to hurt me again.”

“That’s not fair Phoenix.”

“What’s not fair?”

“Erik isn’t your ex. It’s not fair to hold what that lame ass nigga did against him. You have to let that shit go.”

Phoenix looked away at nothing again. She knew he was right.

“Aye…” Coby tapped the table. Phoenix looks at him. “I’ma tell you this, but keep it between me and you.” Phoenix agrees with a nod. “My ex, she wasn’t shit. Fucked around on me with half the niggas in the industry. We were supposed to get married and everything but I called off all that shit when I found out what she was out here doing. Everybody knew but me.”

“Wait!” Phoenix interjected with wide eyes. “You were gonna get married, Coby?”

He kissed his teeth. “Yeah man. That was a few years ago and it has nothing to do with my point.”

Phoenix through her hands up in surrender.

“Anyways… as I was saying. I was done dirty but I didn’t let that shit stop me from going after Ava. I still found it in me to care about somebody. I treat her crazy ass like the queen that she is because that hurt shit is the past. Ava is my fresh start and clearly Erik is yours.”

“What makes you think that?”

“It’s all in  the music, Phoenix. I’m not stupid. I can always tell what you’re feeling based off what you write. You like Erik. Just let the shit happen.”

Phoenix nods. “I cannot believe you didn’t tell me you were engaged.” she says, trying to steer the conversation away from her and her alleged feelings for Erik.

Coby stands up from the table, picking up their plates. “Happened before I met you. Don’t like talking about it.”

He washed their plates and pans on the stove. Phoenix got up and started walking out. “I’ll be in the studio.”

-----------

The next few days, anxiety filled up in Phoenix. She counted the days down until Erik came back. She continued her stay at Coby’s with him and Ava to distract herself as much as she could. Erik’s return day came and went with no sign of him. He hadn’t texted her. She figured he would. But maybe he was tired and just wanted to rest. She was so confused about how she should feel. But when two more days passed and still no text from him, she figured she would take this ‘L’ like a champ and move on. She didn’t want to talk about it with Coby or Ava and she had lost her desire to make music. It would all be about Erik anyway. She didn’t want to do that to herself. 

Phoenix stood over the bed in the guest room that she had rightfully deemed her room and packed up all of her stuff. Ava sat on the bed, watching her.

“You should just move in, Philly. Then we can all be together, all the time.” Ava says.

“You don’t even live here!” They hear Coby yell from his room, down the hall.

“Ain’t nobody even talking to you!” Ava yells back. Her and Phoenix share a look before laughing. “He be killing me, not minding his business.”

“But, speaking of you not living here. When was the last time you went home?” Phoenix asked.

Ava looked up to the ceiling in thought. “It’s been a couple weeks. I should probably go back though. I’m sure the food in my fridge is done for and I definitely need to wash some clothes.”

“Ew, A!” Phoenix laughs. She just shrugs. “Welp… I’m all packed up.”

Ava gives Phoenix a very dramatic sad face. “I’m gonna miss you.”

“Relax, love.” Phoenix places a petty hand on Ava’s shoulder. “A couple more weeks and we’ll be ass out on a beach.”

“Yes and then right after that… it’s your birthday.” Ava pokes her in her sides between words, tickling her.

“Stop! No need to be extra. It’s not that big of a deal.” Phoenix throws on her hoodie and slip her feet into her sneakers.

“You bet not say you don’t wanna do anything, because we’re doing something for your birthday.”

“Y’all can’t do it here!” Coby yells.

“SHUT UP!” “BE QUIET!” they yell back. Both rolling their eyes. Why was he listening so damn hard?

Phoenix goes down to Coby’s room where he’s playing 2k and she says her goodbyes to him. She tries to kiss him on the cheek and snaps back, away from her. “Gone with all that shit, Philly. Don’t you see I’m in a game?”

“This game can’t be that damn important if your ear hustling on what me and Ava talking about.”

“Nah, y’all niggas were just loud. Which is why y’all need to get out my house.”

Ava storms into the room. “Fuck you! I ain’t going nowhere.” She smacks him in the back of the head, making him pause the game.

“Don’t be putting your little ass hands on me. You can get ya’ shit and leave with your friend.”

Ava leans down to his ear and whispers something to him that makes his eyebrows raise up into his hairline. He clears his throat. “You know what… you can stay, bae.” He looks to Phoenix, “I love you, Phoenix, but you have to go now. This was fun. It really was, but Ava will show you to the door.”

Phoenix is disgusted. “Y’all are gross. I’m out.” She turns on her heels, heading back into the guest room for her bags. Ava follows her downstairs and walks her out.

“Let me know when you get home, okay?” Ava gives Phoenix one of those long, auntie hugs. Back rubs and all.

-----

Phoenix sat at a red light when her phone started ringing over the speakers. When she looked to see who it was, she almost choked on her spit. It was Erik. He was facetiming her. He’s never actually called her before, let alone facetime. They only talked in person or text. Her palms become sweaty at a new record speed. She wiped her hand on her hoodie and hit the green button to answer. The street lights lit her face up enough for him to see her. She looked down into the phone to see his face almost covered with a hoodie over his head.

“Hey.” his voice was deep and raspy.

“Hey.”

The light turns green and Phoenix drives off, quickly looking away from the phone on the mount. He just watched her for a moment as she focused on the road and traffic. “You going somewhere?” he finally asked.

“I’m on my way home. Just left Coby’s.”

“Oh.”

She could tell he wanted to say something more than just ‘Oh.’ As she came to a stop at another red light, she focused her attention back to the phone. “What’s up, Erik?” her tone came out frustrated. He’s been back for days now and he hadn’t texted her at all. He randomly facetimes her and barely has anything to say. She was definitely annoyed with how this was going right about now. 

“Can I see you?”

“Sure.”

“How far are you from here?”

She drives off once again. “Like ten minutes.”

“Alright.” There’s movement on his end of the phone. “I’ll wait for you in the garage. See you when you get here.”

“Um… okay.”

The call ends and Phoenix is every bit of confused as to how she should take this. He hasn’t talked to her and now he wants to see her. What the fuck was happening right now?

She arrived in the parking garage of her apartment and Erik is waiting, standing outside his car. She decided to leave her bags in her backseat and gets out to go to him. As she approaches him, he motions to the car, opening the passenger door. “Ride with me somewhere.” Phoenix very hesitantly gets into his car. He gets in and drives off. The ride was silent. He was distant. Not the Erik she had become use to. He was so closed off and she wanted to ask, but didn’t really know how. She didn’t know what to say. She just rode. She laid back into the seat and just looked out the window. The car ride wasn’t long. They pulled into a parking lot and as Phoenix searched around, looking out of the windows, she realized they were at the beach. There weren't many people out. Just a few bodies walking around. Erik turned the car off and opens his door to get out. Phoenix follows. He spares her a look and starts walking onto the sand, toward an empty picnic table. Phoenix doesn’t follow him immediately. She watches him walk and takes note of the slight dip when he takes a step. He turns looking for her and expecting her to be right behind him. When she’s not,  he stops to wait. She slowly begins her journey to him. When she approaches him, he takes her hand in his and guides her the rest of the way to the picnic table. Erik steps up onto the table, sitting on the top of it. He leaves just enough room between his legs for Phoenix to sit. He pulls her up on the reserved seat. As she settles into her place between his thighs, he wraps his arms around her torso and rests his face on her shoulder.

Silence.

Neither of them talk. They sit. The moon’s light sits on top of the water before them and faint sounds of the city in the distance. The few people roaming the beach had left, leaving just them with one another. Phoenix listened to Erik’s steady breath in her right ear and the sounds of small waves in the left. She felt calm. The slight irritation she had with Erik had subsided.

The late night breeze flowed right off of the water and a shiver crept up Phoenix’s spine. Erik felt her shake and wrapped his arms around her body completely, holding her tighter.

“Better?” his baritone voice spoke low in her ear.

“Mhmm.” she rested her head back on him.

“I missed you.” he whispered.

Without thinking, Phoenix’s words flew from her mouth. “Then why didn’t you text me?”

“I just needed some space… some time to decompress or whatever.”

“I get that. I just would like to know that you’re okay.”

“I’m sorry. Not really used to having to check in with anybody.”

Phoenix lifted her body from his and turns to look at him. “Well, you don’t have to check in with me then.” she snapped.

Erik sighs. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’ll let you know next time.”

“Nah, you don’t have to worry about it.” she faces forward but folds her body into her lap. Erik pulls her back to him. She resisted at first but eventually submitted. Resting her body against his chest again. She felt defeated. He wrapped his arms around her again, placing his face in her neck. He doesn’t do anything. He just lays there, lips barely grazing her skin. Phoenix silently prayed he’d move, though she wanted him to stay. 

“It won’t happen again. I’m sorry.” he said into her neck.

She took in a deep breath. Coby’s words popping up in her mind. ‘Let that shit go. Let Erik be your fresh start.’  

“I missed you too, Erik.”

His lips pressed firmly on her neck then. Her body melted more into his.

“Why are you so understanding?” he asked.

She shrugs. “It’s just who I am, I guess.”

“I don’t deserve you.”

“Why would you say that?”

He lifts his head, looking out at the water. Phoenix’s head falls back onto his chest. His grip around her loosens. “I’m no good for you. You’re too much of a good person for a nigga like me. I do terrible shit and you still find a way to be understanding about it.”

“Erik...”

“Everything I touch dies, Phoenix. I don’t wanna ruin your life.”

“Shut up, Erik.”

“Phoenix--” She cuts him off and turns to face him again. She pulls the strings on his hoodie and moves her face closer to his. They’re eye to eye.

“I’m a grown ass woman. I make my own decisions, so if you ruin my life, it’ll be because I let you. I’m not scared of none of that shit you’re talking. I had my chance to cut you off when you told me that you’re basically an assassin. You mark your body for every fucking kill Erik. I tried counting them damn scars on your arms and I lost count… three times,” She dramatically throws up three fingers. “I’m understanding because I know what it’s like to only have yourself. I’m understanding because somebody has to be. Somebody has to be a safe space for your dumbass.” She lets go of his hoodies strings. “Even though I couldn’t get a damn text letting me know you were still alive.” she says sarcastically. 

Her words hit him right in the chest. ‘Somebody has to be.’ Nobody had ever tried to be understanding of him. Nobody wanted to be and here this girl is, wanting to be that somebody. He felt a sense of safety with her that he couldn’t explain before and this confirmed everything he was feeling. This woman was special and the only explanation for how he got so lucky was that Bast herself, sent her to him. If that’s what Erik had to tell himself to accept what Phoenix was offering, he would. All Erik could do in this moment was smile. “I said I’m sorry.” He hadn’t smiled once in the weeks he’d been gone.

Phoenix clutched her pearls. “Erik Stevens without his gold caps? Never thought I’d see the day.”

“Shut up.” He grabbed her face, squeezing her cheeks and connecting his lips with hers. He needed to do this. He wanted to since she met him in the parking garage. The kiss turned hot, very quickly. The smacking of their lips seem to quiet out the sounds of the waves hitting the shore. Phoenix gripped his hoodie, pulling him closer. Their awkward position making it hard to do so. She lifted her body from between his legs and straddled his lap. She didn’t miss a beat. Their lips never parted. Erik’s hands gripped her ass, holding her in place above him. Just as Phoenix sucked on his bottom lip, he pulled back.

“Fuck, girl.” he shakes his head, trying to come back to reality. Erik has kissed many, and I mean MANY of women. But none of them felt like this. She made him want her in every way possible. He wasn’t used to this feeling. But, Phoenix has a history of making him feel things he’s not used to feeling. Like, well… feelings in general. Erik never wanted to just be with someone just to be with them. With other women, if it wasn’t about sex, he didn’t care. But, Phoenix… he wanted to sit next to her, talk to her, hold her hand, watch tv with her. The simple things.  

“What I do?” she grinned.

“I want you so fucking bad.” the lust in his voice sent heat to her lady parts. She wanted him too. “But… if I’m gonna do this, I have to do it right.”

“What do you mean?”

“I would love to bend yo’ ass over this table right now and just…” He thrusted his body up into hers. Her mouth dropped in shock. He laughed at her reaction. “But, I wanna do right by you. I wanna take you out. I wanna show you a good time first.”

“You wanna court me, Stevens?” she smiles, linking her hands around his neck.

“Yeah. All that shit.”

“Damnn, okay. A bitch ain’t never had that before.” she says in her hoodrat voice.

“Me neither.” He laughed at her and pulled her back in for a few more pecks on the lips.

They continued to sit in this position. Phoenix laid on his shoulder and he rested his face in her neck, still gripping on to her thighs. She rubbed the back of his neck. They sat quietly with the sounds of the night traveled around them.

“E,” she whispered. He moaned in response. “Why the beach? What made you wanna come here?”

“I like to come here to clear my mind.”

“Hm, well, I’m enjoying this. I really am. But, I’m cold.”

His body bounced under hers as he laughed. “Well, I’m good now so we can go.”

Phoenix stands. Erik moves to stand up but pauses and sits back down. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

He drops his head in laughter. “Oh my God, man.”

“What!”

He slowly stands up and his erection is VERY visible through his light grey joggers. Phoenix’s mouth drops and she laughs. She knew he was big from when he chilled with her at her place and she breifly sat on his lap, but seeing this nigga print in these pants, let her know she slightly underestimated him. “And I Oop…” They both leaned over in laughter. Phoenix’s funny reaction was simply a way to steer her brain from the many questions she wanted to ask herself. Like: Was she able to handle that? Ya’ know… when the time came? How big was this nigga? Has he murdered anybody by dick in his past? 

But she’ll tackle that one later. They were okay. Things were normal.

Erik readjusted himself and they walked back to his car. The ride back to their apartment was different than the ride to the beach. Phoenix connected her phone to his car’s bluetooth and played her music. The air was lighter on their drive. Erik’s hand found its place on her thigh and they both sung along to the songs that played.

-----------

Phoenix and Erik picked up right where they left off. He texted her every morning and they’d text through the entire day, ending the day with a facetime call. The nights she’d be up and in the studio, they’d text until he fell asleep, only to facetime him when she made it in and they’d both sleep with the other on screen until their phones died. It was like they were teenagers again. The butterflies, the cute text. They enjoyed each other.

——-

Phoenix was currently standing in her hallway, locking her door. Before making her way to the elevator she texted Erik.

Phoenix: What’s your elevator code?

She was feeling bits of nervousness. This would be her first time going up to Erik’s apartment. The couple of weeks that Erik had been back seem to have flown by and  her vacation with her girls was coming up quick, Erik told Phoenix he wanted to see her before she left. They haven’t seen much of each other since he’s been back with her schedule being hectic. Phoenix had a lot of work and meetings to get through before her trip. She wanted to enjoy her vacation without any work related distractions. Her and Coby had been working tirelessly so the only time she could really see Erik was on their nightly FaceTime calls. He’d always miss her on the elevators.

Erik: 8176.

She pressed the elevator call button.

Phoenix: Great. My goons will be up in a minute to rob your ass.

Erik: Play with me if you want to. I’ll drop you and them niggas.

Phoenix: you wouldn’t do that to me. You would miss me too much.

Erik: maybe I would. Maybe I wouldn’t.

DING! 

The elevator doors opened and Phoenix stepped on. She typed in his code to enter the Penthouse floors. 8..1..7..6. The twelfth floor light lit up and the doors began to close. She texted Erik back.

Phoenix: I’m not coming up then.

Erik: stop playing baby girl. You know I would miss you.

Erik: I miss you right now.

Phoenix sticks her tongue out, blushing. She locks her screen. The closer she got to his floor, the tighter the knot in her stomach. She could feel her hands getting hot. She tried taking some deep breaths. The cabin stopped and the doors opened. She stepped out and looked to her left and to her right. There was an apartment door in both directions. Erik didn’t mention which direction his door would be. She unlocked her phone, calling Erik.

“Hey baby girl. Where you at?”

“Um, I’m in the hallway. You never told me if your door is to the left or right of the elevators.”

“Oh shit. My bad. The right.”

Phoenix goes right and the door begins to open. Erik steps out with a smile sitting beautifully on his face. He made Nike shirts look like the most exquisite shirts on the market. His dreads were pulled up into a pineapple. The smell of seasoned chicken flowed out into the hallway meeting Phoenix as she greeted him with a hug. He steps aside, letting her in. First glance and Phoenix was stunned. The sleek and modern black and gold decor was designed perfectly. The high ceilings and floor to ceiling glass windows gave the most amazing view of the city. She walked in, looking around, noticing the African Art along the walls.

“Ohhhh, he got moneyyy!”

“Would you like a tour?”

She whipped her head around to him. “Yes, actually. I would.”

“C’mon.”

She follows him as he leads her more into his penthouse. They walk through his huge living room where he has the largest sectional couch that Phoenix has ever seen. It looked so comfy and she couldn’t wait to get lost in it. A 90” tv set on a stand in front of it.

“Full bar over there.” he points to underneath the stairs. “Dining area. Kitchen.” He takes her hand and leads her past the kitchen into a hallway. There are two doors to right. The first is a guest bathroom. The second door is a guest bedroom.

“Damn, Stevens! Your guest room is bigger than my living room. Go off with your rich ass.”

“You’re silly, baby girl. C’mon, we’re going upstairs.”

They make their way back into the main area to go upstairs. She follows him up and notices his pants hanging low on his waist. This nigga has cake.

“Damn, you kinda thick, E.” she pats him. He stops mid step and turns to give her the straightest face.

“Don’t do that shit again.”

She puts her hands up in surrender. “My bad big booty E.”

“Chill.” They continue their trip up the stairs and the space before them was big enough to be another living room. There were some workout equipment, neatly stacked against the wall.

“Oh this is where you be growing ya’ cheeks at.”

“Phoenix, you got one more time to mention my ass before I put you out.”

“Alright, alright. I’m done.” she smirks at him.

He takes her through some sliding doors that lead to his bedroom. The walls were white with a dark grey accent wall behind his bed. A TV was up on the wall between his large windows. The shades were down, blocking out the cities lights. His california king bed dressed in black and purple. A large black panther picture hung on the wall.

“I have an idea, E.” Phoenix says, rubbing her chin.

“What’s that?”

“I move into this room and you take the one downstairs.”

“You sound crazy. You could just join me in this one.” he winks at her.

“Nope. I need all of this to myself.”

“Nah. I come with it. All or nothing. If you don’t like it, you can stay in your shoebox downstairs.”

Phoenix’s mouth drops and she clutches her chest. “First of all, I love my shoebox.”

He wraps his arm around her shoulders. “C’mon, we’re almost done with the tour.”

She walks with him to the other side of his room and through another set of sliding doors. They step into his master bathroom. His shower had three shower heads and a bench. The tub sat in front of a large window and another tv was on the wall in front of it. “I’m sold. I might have to take you up on your offer now.”

“Oh now you want me?”

“Technically,” she put a finger up. “I never said that I didn’t.”

“You’re something else.” He walks out and she follows him. Right outside the bathroom’s doors was a small hallway that lead into his closet. He turned on the lights, revealing his amazing collection of clothes, sneakers, jackets, and a jewelry case full of chains and watches and few pair of earrings. Straight ahead was a large mirror. Phoenix walked right passed his clothes. Fuck his clothes honestly. The white light in the closet made for good lighting and the mirror called her to take the perfect picture.

“OH! It’s picture time.” She pulled out her phone, snapping a full cute pics, catching her body at all of the right angles. As she tried to get a new position, she noticed Erik leaning against the wall behind her. She hadn’t realized that he was visible in her pictures before. She stopped and looked at him.

“What?” he was lost as to why she was giving him the stink look.

“Get out my picture.” she barked at him.

He rolled his eyes, stepping out of her camera’s view. She snapped a few more pictures.

“Are you done?” he called out. She walks back to him.

“Yes. All done. Thanks.”

He turns off the lights and they both leave out of his room. As they walked toward the stairs, he points to a door on the other side, “That’s my office. I’m redoing it right now so it’s a mess in there.”

They go downstairs and into the kitchen where the food Erik had cooked sat on the stove. He made stuffed chicken, cheesy, garlic potatoes and grilled asparagus. Phoenix sat in the wooden barstool at the kitchen island as he prepared their plates.

“Red or White?” he asked without turning around.

“Hmm, white.”

Erik placed two plates of food on the counter in front of her. He grabbed two wine glasses from a cabinet, placing one in front of her. “You’re a sweet kind of woman aren’t you?”

“Yes. How did you know?”

“Lucky guess.” He walks away out of her sight. When he comes back, he has a bottle of Moscato. He effortlessly pops the cork and pours into their glasses. He takes his seat next to her, pulling her seat closer to him. He grabbed her chin, bringing their faces just a breath from each other. He licks his lips and places a peck on hers, making a small closed mouth smirk appear on hers. “Eat up, baby girl.”

Phoenix pulled away from him. “You don’t tell me what to do, Stevens.” She picks up her fork and starts eating. He watches her with prey like eyes.

“We’ll see about that.” he finally says with a low tone before digging into his food.

As they enjoyed their meal, they talked about random things. How they’re sick of the construction outside of their building. Phoenix has a hair appointment the next day. Nothing major. Well about halfway through dinner, the conversation shifted.

“So,” Erik sat his fork down. “Your birthday is coming up. You and your crew planning something?”

Phoenix sipped her wine. “My crew? No. This vacation is enough for me. I don’t wanna do anything really.”

“I thought the trip was Camrens’s birthday gift?”

“It is. But, I don’t know, it’s right before mine so I’m okay with just that.”

“Why?” He was watching the side of her face.

“Not really a birthday person.”

“I’ve never met a woman that wasn’t a birthday person.”

She finally looks at him. “I mean, as a kid, I was. But the older I got, it just seemed so… extra. I would only do something because my brother wanted to.”

“Brother?!” Erik’s eyebrows raised high. “You have a brother?”

Phoenix rolls her eyes. “Yeah. A twin, actually. Zion.”

“You’ve never mentioned having a brother.”

“Because…” she takes a sip. “We don’t talk. He don’t fuck with me and I don’t fuck with him.” Her demeanor changed. Phoenix is tense now. She clenches and unclenches her jaw and the slight eye rolls as she talks let Erik know that her brother is a trigger. 

Erik turns his body to face her to give her his full attention. “Why not?” She cups her glass with both hands, slowly taking sips. There’s a beat of silence. 

“I’m here.” She began. Her voice small. “I’m living a decent life, doing what I love to do and he’s not.” she shrugs. “He hates me for that.”

“Hate is a strong word.”

“He hates me, E. He said it. He’s convinced himself that I just have hella money and because I won’t move him out here and pay his way through school or fund any of his ideas, I’m not a good sister. He’s the only boy in the family, so everybody has always babied his big ass. I’m not doing that. I’ve worked hard. I’ve earned everything that I have. He can do the same.”

“I understand that. Ain’t shit free.”

She looks at him in disbelief. Everyone (her family and old friends from back home) felt like she was being too harsh on her brother for wanting him to put in some kind of work. They had always just given him what he wanted, no matter the cost. Phoenix had worked for everything. She had a job at 16 while her brother did whatever he wanted. He was given his first car from an uncle while Phoenix saved up her money to get herself one. That same car she saved up for is the same car that she drove to California. Everyone excused her brother actions because he was just a free spirit. Phoenix was too but she still had some discipline.

“Why you look at me like that?” Erik asked.

“Because… you’re the first person to actually agree with me.”

“Hell yeah, I agree with you! That nigga better get a damn job.” That made her laugh. “Phoenix and Zion though. Interesting names for twins.”

“Our names were gonna be Zues and Megara since Hercules was my mama’s favorite movie.” Erik burst into laughter. “Thank God my grandma threw a bible at her ass and put a stop to that.” Phoenix joined in on the laughing.

Erik wiped a tear from his eyes, his laughter calming down. “Oh man,” he tapped on the counter, looking as though he had something else to say.  “Speaking of names though. Um, can I tell you a secret?”

“Let me guess, Erik isn’t your real name or something?” she says, jokingly. Erik just looks at her, eyebrows raised. His silence answering his question. She slams her hand on the counter. “ERIK ISN’T YOUR REAL NAME?” she starts to raise up from the barstool. 

Erik stops her, grabbing her arm. “Hold up. Hold up.” she snatches her arm from his hold. “Hear me out.” she motions for him to continue. “Technically, Erik is my name, but I also have my Wakandian name.”

“You better not be fucking with me.”

“I’m dead serious. I’m Erik Stevens but technically, my real name is N’Jadaka.”

Phoenix takes a deep breath, staring at him like he has three heads. A whole minute passed with her just looking at him.  “I need more wine.” she finally says.

“Nah,” Erik stands, taking Phoenix’s hand, “ I know what you need.

Some dick! Her brain screamed at her. “What’s that?”

She followed him to the couch. He turned on the tv and picked up a blunt from the coffee table. They lean into each other, shoulder to shoulder as Erik lights the blunt, taking two drags of it and passing it to Phoenix. She takes a hit, holding in the smoke longer than she needed and slowly blowing it out. They passed the blunt back and forth until it was gone. They settled into the couch as Naruto played on the tv. Phoenix had come clean during one of their late night facetime calls that she started watching the show while he was gone and that she really liked it. They agreed to watch it together and here they were. As their highs hit them more, Erik dimmed the lights in the living room and got comfortable laying on Phoenix’s lap. They remained in this position until Phoenix’s legs were numb. She repositioned herself under him to lay fully on her back and he placed his body over hers, resting his head on stomach. He was heavy but she liked it. She wanted him to stay there forever.

Phoenix had been absentmindedly playing in Erik’s locs for an entire episode. When she realized what she was doing, she stopped. His hand came out of nowhere and placed her hand back in his hair. She giggled and continued rubbing his scalp again. She looked down at him and noticed that his eyes were closed. This man was falling asleep.

“Erik…” she called him softly.

“Hm.” he moaned.

“Are you sleep?”

“I’m resting my eyes.” his voice was low and raspy. He was definitely asleep. Phoenix waited a couple minutes before calling his name again, but this time she didn’t receive a response. She pulled out her phone, opening her front camera and took a picture of them. Erik’s face buried in her stomach and her fingers, tangled in his locs. She then opened her Instagram, swiping to make a story. A boomerang of course. She made one with the caption ‘Niggas be like, I’m just resting my eyes.’ She posted it and sat her phone down on the floor. She was pretty tired herself but the truth is, she didn’t want to leave. She wanted to stay right here, under him. So she did.

--------

Erik naturally woke up a little after  7am. He wanted to lay with Phoenix longer but his body was so used to waking up early, he knew he had to just get up. As soon as he moved from off of her, she curled up into the fetal position. He grabbed a blanket, placing it over Phoenix’s now balled up body. He stood over her, admiring how peaceful she looked while sleep. He then headed upstairs into his bathroom to brush his teeth and wash his face. He changed into some compression pants and basketball shorts. He remained shirtless and went out to his workout area and began his at home workout.

An hour later, he was sweaty and tired. He checked over the railing to see Phoenix still asleep. She was still balled up in the same spot. He laughed to himself remembering that she never wakes up before noon. He goes back into his bathroom to shower and change into some fresh clothes. He left his locs to lay wildly over his face and came back downstairs to clean up last night’s dishes. The clanking of the dishes and ruffles of the dishwasher still didn’t get Phoenix to wake up. She was a hard sleeper. The opposite of Erik. Maybe it was his Navy training, but Erik could hear wind shift directions in his sleep. It was still early, just after 10. He’s let her sleep in some more.

He sat near her on the couch to watch some tv and lazily scrolled through his phone. He opened the Instagram app and the first thing he noticed was Phoenix’s profile picture at the top of his screen, glowing pink. He tapped it and the boomerang of them played over and over. He looked at her from the corner of his eye. He did everything he could to conceal the grin that threatened to appear on his face as if someone was watching. He watched it more times than he would care to admit. Phoenix began to stir in her sleep. One of her feet poked out from under the blanket. Her sock was missing and her neon pink toes struggled to find shelter under his thigh. He picked up her foot, setting it on his lap and started massaging her foot. He did this while watching tv until his fingers were tired.

It was approaching noon and Phoenix still hadn’t budged. She had a hair appointment in a few hours and Erik knew it was time to wake her. He softly shook her leg, calling her name.

“Philly. C’mon, baby girl. Get up.”

“Hm?” she moaning from under the blanket.

“Get up.”

He had to shake her a little harder for her to actually wake up. She sat up, stretching her arms over her head. She looked disheveled-- her hair were all over her head, she looked confused about where she was and she was missing a sock.

“Morning, baby girl.” He sat back, rubbing her unsocked foot again.

“Morning.” she yawned. She stared blankly ahead, trying to process that she’s awake now. The fresh scent of his body lotion traveled under her nose and she looked at him, taking in the fact that he was fully dressed and looked damn good.

“You smell good.” her tired voice rung out.

“Thank you.”

“How long have you been up?”

“Like seven thirty.”

She shook her head, “Early as fuck,” She rubbed the sleep from her eyes. “What time is it now?”

“Almost noon. Figured I’d wake you up so you’re not late for your hair appointment.”

Phoenix shifted her body and laid her head on his lap. “I don’t want to go to that.”

“Nah, Phoenix. Get yo’ ass up. You’re not about to blame me for your hair not being done later.”

Phoenix moaned in protest. He slipped his hand in her curls, rubbing her head. “How am I supposed to get up and you’re doing shit like this?”

He stopped and lifted her up from him. He held her chin, “Because… you need to go wash your hair, wash your face, brush them teeth and put some lotion on this ashy ass foot you had on me.”

She swatted his hand from her face. “You can suck my ass, Erik. My foot ain’t ashy.”

“I’ll do more than suck your ass, baby girl.” he licked his lips. Phoenix watched closely as his tongue grazed his lips. She had zoned out, flashing back to all of the dreams that she’s been having of him doing just what he said. Her breathing hitched and pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. The snapping of his fingers in front of her face, snatched her from her mind.

“Hm?”

He raised a brow at her. “You were thinking about me sucking your ass, huh?”

“What-- No!”

“Mhm.” he chuckled.

“I see you want to start with me early today.” she says as she stands and searches under the blanket for her sock.

“Early? Girl, half the damn day is gone.”

“Whatever. It’s early to me.” She finds her sock and sits down to put it on. She feels on the floor for her phone, checking it and seeing that the group chat with her friends is currently up in flames with 23 unread messages. She swipes to open the thread and finds that she’s butt of their jokes.

Mica: I know Phoenix up. She’s avoiding us right now.

Camren: lmao. That’s because Erik giving her that morning wood.

Mica: Right! “Niggas be like” head ass.

Ava: She think she slick too. Y’all notice how she made sure you couldn’t see his face?

Camren: yessss! No face. No Case.

Mica: lmfao.

“Oh my goodness.” Phoenix drags a hand over her face.

“What’s wrong?”

“My crew as you call them, they’re lighting my ass up right now about something I posted on Instagram.”

“Oh, that boomerang?” Her head snapped in his direction. “Yeah, I seen that.” he bit his lip to stop himself from smiling.

“How did you see that?”

“I follow you.”

“What? When-- when did you follow me?”

Erik shifted his focus to his phone, looking unbothered at the fact that he just snitched on himself. “I been following you.”

“Since when?”

“Don’t worry about all that. Stop being fake bougie and follow me back though.”

Phoenix was stunned that she didn’t know this information. She felt exposed. “This is weird. What’s your name?”

He snatched her phone from her hands and searched his name @Kingkill_ . His page was private so he requested a follow from her page. He exited out of the app and opened her messages, going to her group chat. Phoenix watched, confused as to what he was going to do. He tapped the camera icon and the camera popped up on screen.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

Erik pushed Phoenix down onto her back, and straddled himself over her. She tried to grab the phone but he held her wrist in place and tapped the red button to record. He started dramatically humping her and laughing.

“Get off me nigga.” she shouted.

“Hold on, baby. I’m almost done.”

One of Phoenix’s hands broke free from his grip and she swung on him, reaching for her phone. He jumped up and ran. She pushed herself up from the couch going after him. He ran into his guest bedroom and locked the door. Phoenix banged on the door, shouting for him to open the door.

“I will break this bitch down. Open the door Erik.”

“Try it if you want to.”

Erik leaned his large figure against the shaking door. He proceeded to send the compromising video to her friends in the group chat. After hitting send, he unlocks the door and Phoenix stands there looking pissed with her arms folded over her chest. He hands her the phone and she snatches it and storms off.

“You really mad?” He goes after her.

She tries her best to not break her fake mad face. But she couldn’t hold it. “You play too much. They’re about to drag my ass.”

“C’mere.” He grabbed her and wrapped his arms around her, placing kisses all over her face. “You like it on the low.” She pushed herself off of him.

“I have to go get my hair done. I’ll see your childish ass later.”

As she turned to go put on her shoes, Erik smacks her on her butt and follows her to the door. All ready to go, she goes in for a hug and quickly gripped his face in her small hand and blew her breath in his face. The smile on his face dropped and snatched his face away. “You nasty as hell! Get out of my house.”

Phoenix broke down in laughter. “That’s what you get for playing.” She opens the door, stepping out into the hallway. Erik is being extra, pinching his nose and waving her out. She winks at him, “See you later, N’Jadaka.”

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

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[julietandcinderellavocaloid]

Determined Alice Chapter 6

Big Al woke Meiko just as the train came to a halt in the Capital. Together they snuck out of the cart and blended into the background before anyone else could notice that they were there.

The Capital was, without a doubt, the nicest place Meiko had ever been. With the buildings themselves emitting light, technology that had existed for years now but Lady Zora never bothered to have it installed outside of her precious Capital, it was as bright as day in the never-ending night of winter. Most buildings were cream-colored, and the mirrors on the corners not only reflected the light but also the warmth. Even though she was outside, Meiko and Big Al began to warm up enough to remove their coats.

Machines designed to shovel the snow off the streets passed through hourly, leaving both the red brick roads and charcoal sidewalks clear. Smaller shops that sold things such as clothing and food had shorter buildings but larger display windows. Meiko's eyes lingered on a pair of gloves for a moment or two before she jogged back towards Big Al as to not lose him.

As they advanced the busy streets, Big Al and Meiko searched for a place they could talk and plot in private.

"A motel?" Meiko suggested.

Big Al shook his head. "No point since we will only need it for an hour."

"We don't even have a plan yet, not to mention any idea when we'll need to act it out."

"Just because we have money to spend doesn't mean we need to spend it."

"Spoken like a true dad. I still can't believe you had all of it on you when we fell from the craft."

"As if you didn't keep your wallet on you too."

"Yeah, but I only have my money, not the whole team's."

Big Al didn't respond. Meiko shrugged and began thinking of other places the two could talk without fear of being overheard. When an idea finally came to her, Meiko shoved aside her smug satisfaction so Big Al would listen to her before deciding whether or not she had a good suggestion.

"Do you think there are any karaoke places nearby?" she asked as she pretended to pull lint from her sleeve.

"Now is not the time for fun and games, Sakine," Big Al answered, no longer using Meiko's first name as he did the night before.

"I was only wondering if those walls are really as soundproof as I hear they are," Meiko casually commented. She shifted her gaze towards Big Al to see him studying her. "After all, there are a lot of people who love to sing but can't sing to save their lives. This way, those singers can have their fun, and nobody has to suffer."

"Now that you mention it," Big Al muttered in response, "that is something I would like to know whether it's fact or fiction."

It took all Meiko's willpower to hide her pride of Big Al considering her idea. Getting too excited would give the impression she wasn't as mature about the matter as she ought. However, that didn't stop Meiko from internally placing the accomplishment on a shelf and having a mini victory dance inside her head.

They had to ask around, but eventually Meiko and Big Al found a karaoke studio. Either the rumors of soundproof walls were true, or the place was dead. Regardless, it took only a few minutes to rent a room for an hour, settle inside, and begin plotting.

"There aren't a lot of guards," Meiko repeated the lad from the night before, "but they make up for the low numbers by being some of the best."

Big Al scratched his chin. "How do you know what that kid told you was true?"

Biting her lip, Meiko admitted, "I don't, but we can still work with it. For all we could know, we'll be going up against the best of the best. They are expecting us, after all. Better to prepare for such a challenge and hope these men aren't as much an obstacle as we anticipate them to be. As for quantity . . . You wouldn't happen to have any smoke bombs on you in case of an emergency, would you?"

"This isn't a spy story."

"So that's a no then?"

"No, it's a yes, but I would much rather you not depend on smokescreens as if they're really that effective."

"Fine. How about we just locate every exit and mark every escape route possible?"

"Now you're getting it." Big Al pulled a tablet from his shirt pocket – Meiko didn't even know he was carrying it – and lied it on the table between them, the hologram karaoke song selection scrolling just above. Activating the tablet, logging onto a program, and searching through a list of files, Big Al opened a 3D blueprint and circled the portion on which he wanted Meiko to focus.

"This is the underground prison," he pointed out, and Meiko leaned in to get a closer look. "Our man should be kept somewhere in the middle."

"To make a breakout all the more difficult."

"Exactly." Big Al zoomed in to the middle of the court. "This right here is where the executions take place. So from here to here, guards are going to be leading our man away from the belly of the prison to right outside the doors. We're going to let them do the hard part for us."

"Or we were before I got us knocked out of our hovercraft," Meiko muttered. She expected Big Al to agree with her and remind her how much this was all her fault. Only he did no such thing.

"How do you think you and I are going to get out of there while the rest of our guys are swooping in, grabbing what they want, and flying away before anyone can think to give chase?"

Meiko was surprised Big Al asked her a question, a question in which she was given the opportunity to find a solution to the problem. For a moment, Meiko couldn't think. Then she overcame her initial shock and began to ponder possible ways out.

"We need to get close to our guy," she stated softly then repeated with confidence. "If we're close to him, our squad can grab us while they're snatching him up."

Raising a brow, Big Al replied, "Not a bad idea, except how are we going to get close to him in the first place? It's not as if anyone is simply going to let us go up to him and walk him towards his own execution."

"I have some suggestions, but that's going to have to require researching a bit further and calculating the possibilities and odds of us so much as coming close to pulling this off without our heads scheduled to land on the chopping block next."

Big Al spun the blueprints around and stared at certain parts of it. Turning his tablet off, the blueprints vanishing as a result, he turned to Meiko and said, "I'm going to need you to be ready to run towards the exits at all times. If something were to go wrong, you need to get as far away and as fast away as possible. Don't try to be a hero."

It felt as if a balloon popped inside of Meiko's chest. What? I thought I was proving myself. I thought he was finally beginning to trust me. Why is he pushing me aside now?

This time, Meiko didn't lash out or argue. Past experiences proved how futile this was. Yet that didn't stop her from asking, "Why?"

"If we get captured, we will be tortured," Big Al bluntly answered. Before Meiko could respond, he added, "You might not know a lot, but you know how to find us. You know where one of our locations is hidden. We can't let anyone else know. That's not a risk worth taking."

Trying with little success to hide the bitterness from her voice, Meiko snarled, "So you can withstand being tortured, but not me?"

Without hesitating, Big Al replied, "They won't be able to torture me. Not with the fake tooth filled with poison that will kill me instantly if I break it and swallow its contents. You, however, haven't had our Last Resort placed in the back of your mouth. With this mission, nobody would have thought you would need it."

Meiko began balling her fingers into fists, but for a different reason now. If things went wrong, Big Al would commit suicide. She, in turn, would have to run away and hope the enemy doesn't find and capture her. This wasn't the rescue mission it was supposed to be when she had been assigned. Thanks to her foolishness, this was now a mission of life or death.

In order to avoid suspicion, Meiko and Big Al waited out the hour until they left the karaoke room. They spent the last five minutes hyping themselves up, pretending that they just spent the past sixty minutes singing at the top of their lungs and not planning to crash an execution. If anyone suspected anything off about this duo of customers, nobody showed it.

"Looks like we should have gotten a motel after all," Meiko muttered as she and Big Al left the karaoke in search of someplace to spend the night. They had their idea, but they still needed to work out the kinks. The execution was early the next morning, and they needed their plan ready with enough time to prepare.

Big Al swore, prompting Meiko to add, "Hey, the karaoke room wasn't that expensive. Adding a motel room to the expenses won't hurt our pockets too badly."

"No," Big Al corrected, and Meiko stopped at his voice. He stood in front of the tablet store, eyes locked on the window.

Frowning, Meiko drew closer to see at what Big Al was staring. It was a news report, and Meiko froze when she read the headline. It was her turn to swear.

REBEL GROUP CAPTURED. POSSIBLE EXECUTION WITHOUT TRIAL.

With the headline under the reporter, an image of the rebels appeared beside her head. Meiko didn't hear the words. All she did was stare at the image.

It was her and Big Al's legion.

[hitchell-mope]

(Film three. In Auradon. Bal’s apartments in the castle. After “best day of my life”. Mal’s in a pair of Ben’s boxer shorts and a doctor who T-shirt. Standing there)

Ben (looping his arms around her waist): hey

Mal: hey. How are you?

Ben: good. Good. And you

Mal: oh so much better now (she turns around) and is this all for me?

Ben: mmmmmmaybe?

Mal: well I greatly appreciate it whoa

(She’s turned around to get a better look at him. He’s, just like her. In boxers. Longish purple hair. And literally nothing else)

Mal: oooh I’m feeling very matchy matchy and very much mismatched

Ben: well there are two ways of remedying that. I could put a top on. OR. I could lock the door and soundproof the room and

Mal: lock the door I’ll soundproof

Ben (very happy): okay

Mal: oh my god!

(Under Ben’s shoulder blades are two jagged cuts from which are growing beating miniature mounds of flesh in a dark blue colour)

Ben: what’s wrong?

Mal: your back!

Ben: what! What is it. What’s wrong?

Mal: I. I. II don’t. Know. It looks like somethings growing out of your back

Doug (walking in briskly with Evie right begins): it’s probably dragon wings. The ember sped up the process I think

Mal: and how do you know that?

Doug: Hierachy And History: all levels of magic and their effects and uses. First edition illustrated.

Bal: can I?

Doug: yes you can borrow it. Hell. Keep it. I’ve got plenty

Mal: how do you know all this?

Doug: I uh bought literally every book about magic when you brought it back. Physical copies and on kindle

Mal: ohhhh. For a minute I thought you were mansplaining to us.

Evie: he’s not chad. He actually knows things. And why the hell aren’t you dressed?

Mal: well sis. We almost died a couple of hours ago so Ben and I were about to engage in a bit of glad to be alive

Evie: eww shut up

Mal: oh like you and Doug haven’t

Evie: that’s besides the point.

Mal: why are you here?

Evie: why do you think. Ben put a top on or something

Bal: no

Ben: I’m comfortable

Mal: I’m relaxed when he’s like this

(Evie sighs and looks defeated)

Doug: so what’s the plan

Mal: yeah about that. I’ve been thinking and I think I’ve connected the dots

Doug: oh?

Mal: yeah and it’s got to do with you and I sis

Evie (horrified): no

Mal: yah

Evie: no

Mal: yeah

Evie: nonono

Mal: yesyesyes

Evie: NO!

Mal: yes! Face it E we might be related

The boys: what?

Mal: think about it. Our mothers are the most self centred vainglorious batshit crazy bitches that side of the river Tiber. They would want the most powerful. Chernabog is a recluse and an altruist. The headless horseman has no mouth so can’t sing their praises. So all that’s left is the god of the dead

Evie: but I’m beautiful

Mal: and what am I. Corned beef?

Ben: I’d still marry you if you were corned beef if that helps

Mal: it does help surprisingly

Evie: but didn’t Maleficent say your dad was human?

Mal: villains lie E. That’s why I was always a disappointment

(Ben hugs her)

Adam (sauntering in like he owns the place): well isn’t that sweet.

Evie: what the hell are you doing here?

Adam: I’ve come to discuss the appalling situation that you let happen.

Mal: I’m sorry?

Adam: so you should be. Ben I have a plan. Put them all back and close it permanently

Doug: what

Adam: go back to the mine. It’s where you belong dwarf

Ben: ok you get out.

Adam: what?

Ben: you heard me. You’re not king. And you have no control over me my actions or my friends. So please. Get out

Adam: fine. But you should at least hear what happening since you had to have him save you

Doug: my names Doug but go on.

Adam: the people are in a panic. They’re terrified. If hades can escape others will try to. If you ask me

Bal and Devie: we didn’t

Adam: if you ask me I personally think it’s high time you do away with this ridiculous endeavour once and for all

Ben: no.

Adam: I wasn’t talking to you boy. I was talking to the future queen. Your people are scared. And even the poor are scared they lash out. Either way you’ll end up back where you cane from. You Carlos and the rest of the technicolour freaks that are destroying the property values that I painstakingly created. You are a “vk” are you not?

Mal: I’m not uh I uhm I don’t consider myself a vk anymore

Adam: then who? That is who you are right. Cradle to grave and all that rhetoric. Face it Mal. You are not an Auradon girl.

Elsa: oh you are so right beast. My daughter is not an Auradon girl. She’s the soon to be the queen of Auradon and isle AND she’s the princess of Arendelle. So that’s three titles to your zero. Meaning you’d do well to shut up

Adan: to what do I owe this...thing

Elsa: my daughter was hurt. So I’m checking on her. Like you should be doing for Ben. Or has belle finally ridding herself if you rendered you void of the most basic compassion for your son as well as everything else?

Adam: as I was saying. If my reasonable suggestion goes unheeded the people will rise up and there’s (a phone blasts out “backstreets back”) OH WHAT NOW!

Ben: it’s my cell phone. Doug would you be a dear and grav it for me

Doug: sure. But only if you put a top on?

Ben: I’ll think about it

(Doug snickers and answers the phone)

Doug: king Ben’s personal cell phone the major-domo speaking. Yes. Yes. Oh shit. Thank you for informing us (he hangs up) the wand, the spindle, Jafar’s staff and the magic mirror have been stolen from the museum

Bal, Elsa and Evie: what?

Mal: when?

Doug: two hours ago. There’s no security footage. The cameras were busted. Ten guards are dead. Two have had the hearts crushed. The rest were cut to pieces by glads shards

Adam: ok then. It’s decided. Round them up. I’ll get the trucks ready. We can have you and them all back by sundown

Elsa: you realise who you’re sounding like right now?

Adam: the only sane man. As it has been for years. Now Mal my dear. Your choice. Anarchy or order. Where’d she go

(Mal’s teleported away)

Evie: you poked the dragon.

Ben: I’ll go after. See if she’s ok

Elsa: no I will. This is a mother’s job

(She teleports after Mal and finds her in the dining room hyperventilating)

Mal: I can’t do it. I I can’t

(Elsa pulls her into a cool down hug)

Elsa: shhh shhh now. Don’t listen to him.

Mal: but he’s right. I’m going to be the queen. I should be thinking about these things. And ten people are dead. And some nutbag has some of the most powerful magical relics in existence

Elsa: but you still have the book and the sceptre. And the book. And if your hunch is correct. You’re half god. So

Mal: so, what?

Elsa: so...beast cannot lay a hand on you or Ben or anyone you care about. Not without your say so.

Mal: so what you’re saying is I hold all the cards

Elsa: essentially yes

Mal (weak laugh): why doesn’t that make me feel better

Elsa: because your upbringing had left you scarred and unable to make decisions that could impact people you care about

Mal: ... harsh but true

Elsa: listen

(This is when “brave” happens)

Mal: I can be brave. I can tell Adam where to stick it.

Elsa: I’ll supply the barge pole

Mal (cackling): please let me see that when it happens

Elsa: hmmmmm maybe

(Back in bal’s living room)

Evie: you’ve hated us all since the moment we arrived. You couldn’t stand the fact Ben chose my sister over the Hunan balloon animal you picked out.

Adam: sometimes the parent really does know best

Evie: said Gothel. Said Madame Mim. Said Jafar, Cruella, my mother, Yzma, Gaston, Maleficent and every single shitty parent we had to deal with over there. You’ve joined their ranks plain and simple

Adam: I am not one of them. You are. Upsetting the well defined status quo on a whim.

Ben: you were a bastard of a father and now you’re a bastard of a human being. The kingdom has me now. And I shan’t make the same mistakes errors and blatant crimes against humanity that you did

Adam: then you’ll be a disappointment as king.

Evie: oh for once in your life shut up and let others speak

Adam: PRETTY THINGS SHOULD SIT STILL AND REMAIN SILENT!

Evie: oh there’s my mother again. Doug honey did you know that she said that exact same thing to me when I stared talking?

Doug: oh my god I’m so sorry.

Evie: eh don’t be. I’m over it. Well mostly. But the fact that this idiot is saying it says plenty about his perceived moral superiority

Adam: if you can’t listen to reason I can always force you.

Evie: once again. My mother. Maleficent. Gaston. Jafar. Cruella. Mim. Medusa. Yzma. Hearts. Need I go on?

(In Ursula’s grotto Uma’s working on something)

V!Harry: what are you doing. Well. I know what you’re doing. I’m you. I’m just asking for the benefit of those out there

Uma: who?

Harry: nothing. Don’t worry.

Uma: ugh whatever. I’m working on an escape. If she thinks she can stop me she’s sorely mistaken

(This is when “speechless” happens)

(Mal bursts back in to the room)

Mal: alright here’s what’s going to happen. Ben, Evie you guys still wanna continue with the program?

Ben: yes

Evie: absolutely

Mal: then you do that. Because, Adam, we aren’t closing the barrier. You got that?

Adam: I really don’t think

Mal: I don’t care what you think. Nobody here cares what you think. You’re no longer king. Hence superfluous to the narrative. You’re nothing. The chain of command goes Ben, Doug, me, Evie

Evie: uh excuse me?

Doug: sorry hon. She’s right.

Ben: yeah. King, major-domo, queen, chancellor.

Evie: shit

Mal: so you can scream shout moan complain. But we’re not closing off the island. EVER!

Adam: you’ll regret this.

Mal: pretty sure we won’t.

(Adam stalks off)

Mal (immediately deflating): man I need a drink. Amethyst wine anyone?

Evie: do I even wanna know?

Mal: probably not.

Ben: it’s great. Just like the butter bars

(Evie turns green around the gills)

Doug: I’m probably gonna regret this but what’s in it

Mal: white wine. Vodka. A quarter pound of sugar. And it’s all mixed together with juiced violets. Hence the colour

Evie: that sounds disgusting.

Ben: oh it is. But we made it with magic so the potency is through the roof

Doug: meaning?

Ben: meaning it’ll get you blackout

Mal: shitfaced

Bal: blindingly drunk

Evie (forcing back a disgusted look): ahahaha. I’ll pass

Bal: suit yourself

(They commence drinking. In the isle chadeficent is looking on as Ursula goes belly up)

Chadeficent: need some help?

Ursula: my wretch of a daughter blew up my grotto and escaped with that mouth breathing pirate spawn. Of course I need help

(Chadeficent sends eerie magic hands, the exact type that ripped out Ariel’s voice, plucks out Ursula and drops her on the pier)

Ursula: now that that’s all settled. Who the hell are you

Chadeficent (now only using Maleficent’s voice): you tell me sea witch.

Ursula (unsurprised): you’ve literally never looked worse

Chadeficent (in Chad’s voice): hey watch it bitch!

Ursula: excuse me

Chadeficent (still in Chad’s voice): I mean seriously you look like a desaturated smurf.

Ursula (eyes glowing teal): Do you wanna say that again kid?

Chadeficent (in Maleficent’s voice): no he does not

Ursula (smirking): who’s body?

Chadeficent (both voices now): the son of Cinderella

Ursula: oooh a new meal?

Chadeficent: no. A tool (Maleficent’s voice) in more ways then one

Ursula: how’d you get here.

Chadeficent (both voices): the elongated horseless carriage

Ursula: so the limo

Chadeficent: yes.

Ursula (very much unimpressed): mhmm. Why are you back?

Chadeficent: I’m starting a coven. I assume you want in?

Ursula: eh what the hell. Wouldn’t be the first time we teamed up to ruin lives

Chadeficent: remember when we ruined for children’s lives simultaneously?

Ursula (mad): oh you mean that time my daughter was publicly humiliated and gained a dehumanising epithet all because your daughter acted out in anger at something the witches daughter did that left the freckled thing to be tortured by the furrier for a month?

Chadeficent: yes

Ursula (bark laughing): HA. Good times good times. So. What’s the plan

Chadeficent: we are going to break my daughter

Ursula: mind? Body? Soul? Spirit?

Chadeficent: all four

(In Auradon. Adam’s just sat down at the bar of a tavern)

Adam: double scotch on the rocks

Bartender: coming right up sir

Adam: never have kids Moliere

Bartender: my names not Moliere sir

Adam (not even listening): you raise them. You teach them. You impart your wisdom. Your values. And what do they do? Take a giant steaming shit on all you worked on and turn everything completely upside fucking down in the name of goddamn “progress”. Know what I’m saying?

Bartender: ohhhhkay?

(Adam gets off the stool and starts the jukebox. This is when “gold” starts.)

Bartender (very very scared now): sir. Your majesty are you ok?

Adam (pensively): no. No I’m not a majesty. Not anymore. Well. Not yet at least.

(He runs out of the tavern without paying)

Customer: what the hell was that all about?

Bartender: I don’t know. But I have a feeling little benny needs a warning.

[halfasleepoetry]

#15

from where he’s standing leaning against the door frame joe can see the emptied closet and the packed suitcase sitting beside it. he sips tea from the mug he’s holding and mulls over the heaviness in his chest, he knows what it is; a violent onslaught of dread and desperation of not wanting to be left alone, because it has been twenty-two days now, today, that he has unlearned the art of being by himself—walking, eating, drinking, laughing, sleeping and dreaming alone now all seem like a distant, unrecognizable memory, something he does not want to be reminded of or welcome ever again—and he is screaming it underwater behind a thick glass.

beyond that thick, soundproofed aquarium, is his calculatedly calm figure, shifting his leg as he leans closer to the door frame, folding one arm closer in front of his chest, staring into the now empty mug, resigned to the inevitable loneliness. after all, it’s an old friend that he has spent most of his life living with; but unfortunately for him it is now no longer comfortable, warm or familiar.

ben shuffles across the room, folding his bomber jacket once before putting it on top of his suitcase, only to change his mind and picking it up again, holding it in his hand. staring at the jacket in his hand, he turns on his heel slowly, facing the doorway.

he can feel ben’s eyes on him.

joe. a pause. can i be honest with you?

he looks up to ben now and knows—with the conviction of a seasoned actor who has been doing this since the age of 5—that his eyes are unreadable. and he knows that the younger man is uncomfortable whenever it happens. ben’s gaze does not waver, however.

i don’t want to leave.

ben’s deep, husky voice sounds so gentle and a little breathless when he says it, that joe almost, almost caves in. what he wants more than anything right now is to tell ben, me too, i don’t want you to go—don’t ever fucking leave, and he would say it while looking straight into those green-blue eyes and then he would press his lips on ben’s and they would kiss—

—but what he does, is to straighten up from where he was leaning just now and brings down the empty mug to his side.

we’ll see each other again, silly.

he doesn’t like the way he must have sounded or looked like when he smiles and says it.

come on, ben, you have a flight to catch.

how unthoughtful, how cruel, how cold. as if ashamed of what he had done, he turns and heads to the kitchen, every step feeling like dragging unspeakable weight on his feet. when he does reach the sink, he turns the tap on and rinses his mug longer than necessary. then, wordlessly and gingerly, as if he is a piece of china that might break, he feels the younger man’s arms encircling him, and warmth spreading everywhere on his back. he does not pause or let anything slip. the tap is turned off, mug placed on its drying rack. ben’s hold tightens, however, and he realizes he wouldn’t be able to move anywhere unless he puts up some resistance. and he will, he is going to, only that he’s already feeling so tired now. he realizes that he has been wrestling with his thoughts ever since he woke up today, and it’s just so fucking tiring. so he puts both hands on the edge of the kitchen counter now, stares blankly at the white tiles neatly lined in the space between the counter and the cabinet overhead.

he could see a glazed, blurry reflection of himself and ben on its surface, and the contrast created by the younger man’s well-built figure, so softly pressed against his lankier but stiffer figure. ben presently has his nose buried in joe’s shoulder, eyes closed. they must have remained like that, as if frozen in time and in the silence of the house, for a good five minutes. joe doesn’t even remember at which point in the minutes that he has brought his right hand up and places it over ben’s. by then, perhaps their image, so closely pressed with each other, is already permanently printed on each of the tile’s glistening surface, embossed like a lucid dream that is only visible in his mind. he wonders which part of him that is hurting so badly now, that feels like breaking apart, only held together by ben’s arms around him and his warm and broad figure behind him. he wonders what will happen if the man in the thick-glassed aquarium breaks free, wonders if that man would not be choking on his words and feelings like what is happening to his calculatedly composed counterpart right now.

he hears a muffled sound of his name, said against the fabric of his t-shirt.

he wants to say yes, but he is startled by how large and painful the lump inside his throat is. it makes him blink, and then he realizes there’s wetness in his eyes as well.

promise me you’ll think about what i said last night.

last night. of course.

after they had one last dinner with rami and lucy last night, they found themselves walking along the promenade, ben’s favourite place, overlooking manhattan and the brooklyn bridge. they must have walked the promenade almost every night for the past three weeks, just walking and talking, and occasionally, ben would smoke as they sat on one of the benches lining the walkway, or stood against the metal railing separating the promenade from the water ahead.

sometimes they would hold hands. most times, they walked bumping shoulders, the back of their hands and fingers grazing each other’s. there were two times that they had kissed, both times when they were out walking late past midnight, and there was nobody else around at the promenade within eyesight.

the night was clear and the air crisp and chilly, but they were warm from walking and was having the most animated conversation about woody allen and his films. joe was explaining to ben about the various ways that new york has been framed and immortalized in his movies, and how the sentiment and feeling he created for each spot of the city featured in his films were sometimes consciously or unconsciously brought forward into other, more recent movies.

the guy’s up there with all the fucking legends, if you ask me.

i’m not arguing with you on this, really, said ben, looking sideways and smiling at him.

oh, how come? i thought you always have something to say about my opinion, benjamin, he countered, and ben laughed.

you’re all about the first star wars trilogy, you memorized lines from jaws and hey, you’re the kid from jurassic park. your opinion on movies is alright, ben said with a dismissive air, taking one hand out from his coat pocket and made a gesture of balancing his palm on air, nodding and squinting at the same time.

joe laughed loudly at this, and swatted ben’s hand as if offended. the younger man, however, used the opportunity to catch his hand, intertwining their fingers together and in one smooth movement, slipped their joined hands into joe’s larger coat pocket, effectively preventing him from pulling away, and at the same time, bringing them even closer together.

joe raises his eyebrow at ben.

it’s cold tonight, ben brought his shoulders up a little on a pretend show that he’s cold.

cute, joe said, squinting his eyes in an equally pretend show of annoyance.

ben’s smile was ear-to-ear however, and joe couldn’t help but smile too. they fell in leisurely steps as the lights from the city and the bridge lined their peripheral vision. the silence is comfortable, and settled like a warm blanket against the cold night. for the first time since a long time, a point of time which joe could not even recall, he did not feel the need to say or do something with this quietness, and it is as bizarre as it is so normal whenever he is with ben.

he looked sideways and he could see the younger man smiling, the kind of smile one has on without thinking, without intent, it is just there out of happiness or contentment, and it made his heart do a jittery jump when he realized that his own smile must be mirroring that of ben’s.

it’s rude to stare, you know, ben said without looking at him, his smile turning into a smirk and then a grin.

wasn’t staring at you, loser, he replied, bumping their already-touching shoulders together, almost throwing both of them off the rhythm of their matching steps.

ben laughed, but joe felt him tightened his grip on their joined hands, as if to steady themselves in case their stumble turned into a fall. joe wondered how did that happen, when did this happen, this green-eyed, wavy-blonde haired man who literally blushed as they were making out the first time on his couch, who was so unsure about whether they were going to or not going to kiss, even when his whole body wanted it without him having said anything; this man whom joe could read like an open book, every nuance and change in his emotions and moods reflected in his eyes, so green and yet so different every time. so disarmingly beautiful and deceivingly pure, so mature at times and so shy sometimes, but always so in tune with his own chaotic impulses and quieter moods. this man whose smile is both reserved and radiant, his gaze so gentle and burning hot, all at the same time.

benjamin jones, who drives him absolutely insane sometimes but most times is the only person who knows how to ease his mind, how to quiet all the overlapping voices and ruckus inside his head, and make them sing to him instead.

joe wondered when did he fucking drop his fucking heart right into ben’s fucking hands.

when there’s a great view behind you but a better one in front of you, ben said, barely containing his laughter.

quoting your own instagram post, how classy.

at least i always mean what i say on instagram.

you think i didn’t?

i don’t know, did you?

always, joe wanted to say, but he decided not to say anything. he just looked squarely into ben’s eyes instead.

they have stopped walking and stood against the metal railing, close to the bridge. joe brought their clasped hands out from his coat pocket, now slightly over-warmed.

you want to know what i think.

it wasn’t a question, it was a statement, and it was met with a shrug from the older man.

ben sighed, smiling a little, and it made him suddenly look wiser beyond his twenty-eight years of age.

i think you’re at your most honest about something when you’re joking about it, he began. joe switched on a mode somewhere in his mind where he did this thing with his eyes and they become unreadable. ben blinked, and he felt guilty, almost.

you like to hide behind your jokes, ben offered, visibly swallowing. he shook his head a little, looking down. do you know what scares me sometimes?

what, joe asked.

whenever i look into your eyes and cannot see anything there—it scares me bloody shitless.

joe shook his head, smiling. why would you—

because you’re the most important person to me, that’s why.

there’s a quiet desperation in his voice that joe has never heard before, has never even thought he would ever hear, until today. he’s taken aback by it, to say the least. but a man like him, who has been mostly stumbling in and out of relationships, just mostly misses instead of hits, nothing lasting or concrete, nothing even working out the way he thought they would, is a creature trained in defense mechanism. dull the heart in order to not feel the pain, in order not to feel anything at all. why stoke a flame that might burn him one day, why take off his armor so he can be wounded?

why not just hand a knife to this young man standing in front him, eyes partly shaded, partly burning with blue fire, worrying his lips with his teeth, this young man joe wants nothing else but to kiss so that he will shut up and not say anything else that would throw him off; just give him that damned knife and let him stab my heart now, because eventually, that’s exactly where all this is leading to, sooner or later.

i’m not asking for anything, really.

ben shifted his gaze downward now, and joe wanted to tell him to shut up, we are not having this conversation, i know where this is all going to and i can tell you ten things that would go wrong the moment we finish talking about this. they’re all on top my head, hovering dangerously. we should just kiss instead.

and they did kiss. it was long, drawn out and open-mouthed, with a hint of desperation. joe stepped into the space between them and brought his hands inside ben’s jacket, slipped them under his sweatshirt and the t-shirt underneath. ben shivered a little at the touch, pushed their bodies closer. when they finally broke apart they were both breathless and a little disoriented, and joe wished they were not here on the promenade, overlooking the spectacular night view, but in his apartment instead, preferably in his room, where things can take a more favorable turn.

and they did kiss again, barely making it through the door, legs stumbling, hands fumbling with keys, doorknob, clothes; too many layers. no talking, except for when you scream my name, he whispered right into ben’s ears before he started nibbling and biting on the lobes, earning a moan from the younger man. there is always something exquisite about wanting to feel and touch another person so desperately, skin to skin, like this; something so feral and alive, like watching short circuit bursting, like starting a fire. and joe knew what he was doing, as was ben, they have spent enough hours and times touch-mapping skin with fingers, lips and everything else in between. they were not in a rush, but there was no lack of desperation either; each of them wanted more and more, closer and closer, and joe thought he would have all the different ways ben called out his name—joe, joseph—throughout, etched forever onto his memory.

last night ended when it was too late to even call it a night. the day would break in a couple of hours, they fell asleep with joe half-draped over ben and ben refusing to let his hand be anywhere else except in his grasp.

just so you know, joseph, i’m not planning on ever losing you.

joe woke up first when the sun was already hot on the side his face, as the other was on the pillow, and next to him, ben. their hands were still touching. he pried his eyes open and with his other hand, rubbed sleep off them. he took a deep breath, and felt a sharp pain in his chest as he did so.

so it is the day, he remembered thinking vaguely, and feeling like collapsing into himself, forgetting everything else.

they did get up, one because the day was getting brighter and hotter, two because there is an actual flight that ben needed to catch. while joe showered and got ready in his room, ben used the spare room, where his things were, although he barely even slept in the room throughout his stay, except for the few times they ended up sleeping there.

they went out for a quick brunch, both with sunglasses on, neither feeling like talking. joe ordered their usual and ben was just glad he didn’t have to make any effort at talking. when the waiter walked away they began a staring contest from behind their sunglasses, neither acknowledging that they’re staring at each other, nor uttering a word. ben heaved a sigh finally, and joe slid his feet towards ben’s, until their sneakers touched at the toes.

hey buddy, he started, you want to hear a dinosaur joke?

joe, ben sighed, but he was already smiling. okay, go for it.

what do you call a dinosaur with sleep apnea?

ben furrowed his brows together and pursed his lips, thinking. oh, i don’t know—he began, putting the tip of his pointer finger on his lower lip. you?

joe feigned disappointment in his sigh. 

number one, he started, putting a show of finger counting, i’m not a dinosaur; two, he added another finger, i don’t snore, thank you very much.

it’s dino-snore, isn’t it? the answer. ben started laughing. how do you know that you don’t snore? you don’t sleep with you. i do.

then swear on your heart and tell me that i do, in fact, snore.

ben grinned. no, you don’t. you’re just adorable when you sleep.

adorable? joe was incredulous. adorable? am i five?

ben laughed. you are, sometimes, joe.

their food arrived before joe could say anything, and since they were actually starving, they ate and finished their food in silence.

the walk up back to joe’s apartment too, was engulfed in the same silence. it’s slightly more oppressive than it is comfortable, but at least he has ben beside him, walking matching steps.

when they entered his apartment, there’s about an hour left before ben was supposed to take uber to the airport.

i feel like tea.

not me, thank you.

they set to task in silence again, ben packing his suitcase in the spare room, joe making tea in the kitchen.

and eventually, it’s time—but neither of them are willing to let go just yet; they’re kissing slowly, languorously, joe leaning against the kitchen counter, ben with his arms around joe and joe with his hands in ben’s hair. when they pull apart they keep each other still very close, touching foreheads and mingling breaths. and they kiss again; shorter ones this time, each sweeter and more painful as they come, counting down the seconds and minutes until they ultimately have no other choice but to let go.

no words were exchanged, and finally ben closes the door behind him. it feels like the pooling wetness he last sees in ben’s eyes would haunt him forever, if it does not make the fact that he is neither here, within the vicinity of his apartment, nor in joe’s arms, more real than it already is.

joe wonders when will it hit him, the anxiety of separation and the bitterness of longing, and if it would seep in like rainwater, or it would hit him like a freight truck.

what is more painful than goodbye is the uncertainty of a reunion, and if and when it does happen, what of us would have remained and what would have changed.

joe must have stood still as minutes go by, on the spot where ben had left him, five steps from the doorway, as if transfixed onto the moment and the lingering feeling of the younger man’s arms around him and their kiss still ghosting upon his skin and lips. gradually but sternly, he reminds himself that he has a film event to attend to later in the evening, and he needs to be ready for it. he shifts and turns around, the late afternoon sun shining bright and full on him through the large windows of his apartment. as he looks around he concedes that nothing has changed; the window sitting-nook, the leather couch, the neatly stacked manuscripts on his work desk, his macbook on charge and iphone beside it. bottles and containers, microwave and toaster lining the kitchen counter neatly. if he goes into his bedroom now it will look like it does any other day; bed made and laundry put away in the hamper. the spare bedroom, with its neatly made bed and empty closet, as they were twenty-two days ago. he looks at his hands, brings it to his face, rubbing the scruff along his jawline; nothing has changed, and yet, nothing feels the same.

until we meet again, then.

a/n: oh god this took so long! also, i owe this to @ssasakii who never gets tired talking with me about these boys and helping me refine their characterization in my head. the dinosaur joke is there because i’m a fan of caesariish from ao3 (i wish i know her tumblr, if she has one) also! how could i forget, @hey-holtzy who literally handed me the prompt for the walking together scene along the promenade ❤️ the rest is just my always-fluffy, chaotic imagination working overtime–i love comments and feedback, please ❤️

tags: @ssasakiiwrites @oniriquex @hey-holtzy

[bcdrawsandwrites]

Neither Can You Rating: T Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Family Characters: Héctor, Ernesto, Imelda, Coco, Julio, Pepita, Dante, Miguel, Óscar, Felipe, Victoria, Rosita… possibly others. Warnings: Violence, broken bones Description: “Do you care about your familia… more than your music?” Héctor didn’t have to think twice to answer yes. But the grin on Ernesto’s face sent a chill down his spine as the man continued, “Are you willing to put that to the test?” View all chapters here! FFN Link | AO3 Link | dA Link

Chapter 12: The Sound Summary: In which Ernesto prepares his next move.

His phalanges danced effortlessly across the strings, coaxing the same notes out of the guitar that had won over the hearts of millions. Well… the notes plus the sound of his voice, of course, but he wasn’t much in the mood for singing right now.

Honestly he wasn’t much in the mood for playing, either.

When life gets me down, I play my guitar.

The memory of the line left a bitter taste in his mouth. While they’d always allowed him a little creative liberty over the scripts, that was one bit the writer had been so proud of, and everyone else had agreed that it was a lovely line. And, always one to keep up good relations, Ernesto had let that one slide, even if he couldn’t fully agree with it. True, playing his guitar did tend to ease his pain… but only when people were there to listen.

And here in an apartment three towers down from where his mansion stood, there was nobody to hear him play. No one aside from that stupid neighbor of his who would hit his broom against the ceiling if Ernesto played too loud, anyway.

Heaving a sigh, Ernesto moved to set the guitar aside, only to give a sharp gasp at the sound of something scratching at the side of the chair—

Scratching, kicking, scraping, screaming—

No, no, that’s not what it is. Shuddering, he glanced down at the floor to find Diablo looking at him with his big eyes. “What, you want me to keep playing?” he asked, and the alebrije wagged his tail eagerly. He couldn’t help but smile at the sight, and stooped down to scratch the chihuahua behind the ears. “Well, I suppose you’re a better audience than none at all.”

He re-settled the guitar in his lap, starting up a different song this time—a more energetic one. Even without singing along, he could still hear the words in his head as he played:

Senoras y senores

Buenas tardes, buenas noches

Buenas tardes, buenas noches

Senoritas y senores…

You like it, hermano? I wrote it for us! We can start with it as our opening num—

His hand seized up and abruptly he stopped playing, setting the guitar aside and rising to his feet.

Basta—that was enough practice for one day.

Gritting his teeth, he crossed the room and strode into the kitchen. The other alebrijes—who had been intermittently whining at him all day—immediately charged after him, yipping the entire time. Ernesto automatically went to fill up their food bowls (cheap plastic ones that he took a moment to scowl at—their nicer ones were still at the mansion) before pouring himself his third cup of coffee for the day.

Not his usual comfort drink, but that would probably lull him into a doze, which he did not want right now.

Ernesto watched the alebrijes chomping at their food, glad to see them apparently satisfied for the time being. He loved his pets—he truly did—but ever since he’d been forced to take a temporary leave from his mansion, they’d been insufferable. Constantly whining, constantly upset, constantly trying to pull him around to different places… He couldn’t blame them for being upset at suddenly being moved to a newer, much smaller home—he wasn’t particularly happy with it either—but it didn’t make them any easier to deal with.

“Soon we’ll be back home,” he said absently, not entirely sure if they understood or were even listening to begin with. Though Clara did look up at him, cocking her head for a moment before resuming her meal. “Soon everything will be taken care of, and we can go home, and go back to sharing our music with the world.”

He hoped so, anyway.

Exhaustion tugged at his bones as he leaned against the counter, resting his head in his hand.

It had all been… more difficult than he’d expected.

At the start it wasn’t too hard—more annoying than anything. He hadn’t lost his money or any of his possessions, exactly—he’d been moved out of the mansion for his own protection for the time being. He still had what he needed to pay his guards and his… associates… and it wasn’t like he was actually in trouble with the police. No one was ever punished for crimes they committed in life—death was supposed to be a “fresh start” of sorts.

Not that people wouldn’t still hold those crimes against you, of course.

But more than that—he hadn’t, exactly, done anything illegal that night. Nothing any more illegal than he’d done before, anyway. A few of his paid “friends” already knew about the cenote and how he used it, and as for the child… well, there were no laws against harming the living. (There were now, but retroactive punishment wasn’t really a thing here.)

No, none of that had been the problem. He’d committed no crimes, and the police really couldn’t do anything to him, in spite of what the newspapers said. (“DLC Still On the Loose!” read one headline a month ago, as though he were actually on the run.) The problem wasn’t any of that—it was the public’s perception of him.

That entire mess had been recorded, somehow, and there was little to be done about that. Oh, he still retained some loyal fans, thank goodness—those who denied that he’d actually murdered anyone, or who could easily see there was no proof that he’d stolen anything, or who just didn’t care either way and only wanted his music. And that was nice, at least—he still retained some of his familia.

But it wasn’t enough.

Those who now hated him far outweighed those who still supported him. It was a PR nightmare, trying to figure out what to do about that recording. At the very least, he’d been told, he’d never actually admitted to the murder of Héctor or the knowing theft of his songs, but his attempted murder of that stupid child was a different matter. Right now they were trying to work on some solution to that—perhaps that he had been so overly-stressed from the event, from such serious accusations, and from the surreal experience of meeting a living child that he had temporarily lost control of his actions. A flimsy excuse, but… perhaps one that had some truth to it. He had been stressed—that child was trying to ruin his entire career, his reputation—and when under stress, people may resort to… extreme measures.

Ernesto knew a lot about that sort of thing.

But even if they managed to convince the public that the decision had been made in a moment of extreme stress, all of that would still leave a bad taste in their mouths. Not many wanted anything to do with him anymore aside from shouting at him in the street or even trying to attack him, at a few points. He couldn’t get near enough to any place to actually play music.

Unlike a certain other musician.

Taking a deep gulp of coffee didn’t quite wash that bitter taste out of his mouth. Héctor had been living the dream since then—the press was all over him and constantly wanting interviews, he had a growing fanbase, and he even had that little bonus of getting his familia estúpida back. Yet he wasn’t performing concerts, or even singing or playing a few choruses for his fans! A perfect waste of his talent—some things never changed. Or maybe they would—maybe Héctor would start throwing concerts for his beloved fans. Whatever the case, all eyes were on him, now.

And that was where the hardest part had started.

Once again Ernesto swallowed down another mouthful of coffee, and rubbed his forehead against the oncoming headache. Ay. It wasn’t supposed to be so hard. This wasn’t like when he’d made that fatal toast with Héctor, or even when he’d tried to get rid of that child. There was no murder here—not even an attempt. There were no fatally poisonous drinks, no bodies to hide, no friendships to permanently end. It should have been easy.

Tracking Héctor down had been easy. Finding out when he typically left the house, where he wasted his time—none of it was particularly difficult, with the media following him around anyway. They’d quickly found out about his visits to the shanties, and one of his men had mapped out the route he took. Then it was just a matter of finding the right spot, placing the fake order, and…

He pressed the heel of his hand into his head.

When he’d poisoned the drink, he hadn’t been entirely sure what would happen. Héctor could have dropped dead, or he could have gotten so sick that he couldn’t possibly board the train. Ernesto had been prepared for either case, but the former was what had happened. He’d done what he had to do, and that was that. The guilt had been there, but success and tequila had mostly chased it out—ultimately, it had been worth it. The nightmares had come, filled with the bitter taste of tequila, the smell of burning coal from the train, the feeling of dead weight in his arms.

But never with those sounds.

It was the one thing he’d failed to prepare for. He’d had the threats planned and ready to follow through with, his men had gathered the required tools, others were made aware of the situation, and they’d found the best location, but the sounds—why hadn’t he prepared for the sounds?!

He should have gagged him, if that were possible. He should have muted him first (but then there was that rattling and rasping and gagging and—), or broken his ribs first (crack, crack, crunch), or soundproofed the other room so he at least couldn’t hear what they were doing, or…

Every time he fell asleep they were there. Even when he was awake the noises were there; he’d hear the slightest scuffle or yelp that was just close enough and they would morph into those sounds—

Ay, Héctor never made anything easy.

Ernesto’s hand trembled with a specific pain he’d never felt before last night, and he stood up straight, massaging his palm. That, at least, he knew how to deal with. He’d felt a near-constant nausea back when Héctor had first died, but it left in time. Soon enough the pain in his hand would leave, too.

Just like Héctor’s fans would soon grow tired of waiting for their beloved musician to play for them. They’d miss those songs, eventually, and Héctor would never be there to perform them. They’d turn to other musicians, other bands, other mariachis, but it wouldn’t satisfy them. No.

Soon enough, they would come back to him, and all of this suffering would be worth it.

“Yip! Yip!”

Ernesto looked down to see that the alebrijes had finished their meal, and now Lobo was barking at him, both his little paws on his pant leg. Sighing, Ernesto reached down to pet the dog, only for him to duck away from his hand, darting off to another part of the apartment.

He had a feeling where the dog was leading him.

Rubbing the metacarpals on his right hand, he followed the dog through their little apartment. The other alebrijes seemed to catch on to this and bolted after Lobo as well, Zita yapping all the way. And, sure enough, they stopped at the closet door, all of them pawing and jumping and barking and whining all at once.

“No, no,” Ernesto said, wincing. “I’ve told you, those bones are not for you.”

That only seemed to make them bark louder, and he turned away quickly, heading back for the kitchen. That had been another oversight—of course the dogs would want bones. They could probably smell it from out here. Even if he wanted to dispose of the wretched thing right now, he wasn’t going to do it that way and risk the poor dogs choking. He needed to call Luis and ask him to pick up some bone-shaped dog treats from the store, and perhaps then they’d quiet down until the week was up.

To his surprise, the moment he reached for the phone on his wall, it began ringing.

He jumped back, giving a cry of surprise, only to roll his eyes at his own skittishness. Honestly, he shouldn’t be so on edge right now. Taking a moment to prepare a fake accent if he needed to, he picked up the phone. “¿Hola?”

“Señor de la Cruz, it’s Rafael,” came the voice on the other line, and Ernesto relaxed a fraction.

“Sí. What is it? Did something happen?” He twirled the phone cord in his fingers absently, eyes flicking down when he felt Zita tugging at his pant leg.

“We, uh, got word from Heraldez.”

His hand clenched around the cords and he hissed a curse into the receiver. Immediately Zita yelped, scampering away. “Oh, wonderful. And what did that ‘investigation’ turn up?”

“Uh… well… that Rivera woman and some other relative—an abuelo or something, I don’t know—of hers gave statements about finding you-know-who weeping in a doorway. They went to the spot, acted all thorough, and were gonna lead ‘em to say there was nothing there, but that abuelo caught on to the cleanup.”

Ernesto gritted his teeth. “And?”

“And… well, Heraldez said that they’d need a statement from him.”

His chest tightened, as did his grip on the phone cord. “And what did he tell them?”

“Uh… he didn’t, last I heard.”

“Which was?”

“About ten minutes ago.”

Heaving a sigh, he felt the tension leave his ribcage. “Good,” he said, releasing the phone cord and letting it thwap against the wall. “I’ll need one of you to come over here.”

“…Sí. Will I need to bring anything, Señor?”

Ernesto’s gaze drifted across his apartment, past the playing and yipping alebrijes and over to the closet door. “Anything you think will be useful in serving as a reminder.”

“…Sí. Anything else?”

In a moment, the sounds filled his mind: bang, bang, snap.

Shriek.

“…A large wad of cotton, if you would.”

“Si, Señor de la Cruz. I’ll be there in half an hour.”

[waveridden]

FIC: i’ve seen the waters that make your eyes shine

Carefully, he picks up the note and unfolds it. It says, in neat, curly handwriting, You sound great! Good luck on finals! (A college AU. Jamie/Mimi, background James/Parker. 2k.)

AUcember || title lyric

#

The secret to getting into the practice rooms during finals week is going first thing in the morning.

Jamie finds this out totally by accident - like, really by accident, because he doesn’t do mornings. He doesn’t even really need the practice room, because he’s not a music student, but it’s nice to have some time to sit down with a guitar and sing when nobody else can hear him. It’s not like dorm rooms are soundproofed. The practice rooms aren’t soundproofed quite as well as they could be, but at least everyone’s used to hearing other people’s music.

And he’s not planning on going, but then Parker’s alarm goes off at seven in the morning for his final, and he doesn’t wake up, because Parker sleeps like the dead. It takes Jamie three times to wake him up, and at that point, he’s already thoroughly awake.

“I’m sorry I woke you up,” Parker says for about the sixteenth time. He’s rushing around the room, getting ready to run out to his first final of the day. Jamie doesn’t have any finals today. Jamie was really, really looking forward to sleeping in today.

“No worries, man,” he says, because he’s not an asshole, and Parker clearly has better things to do than worry about waking him up. “Good luck on your test.”

“Thanks!” Parker, with a backpack slung over one shoulder and half a granola bar in his mouth, waves at Jamie and runs out the door.

And, well, Jamie’s not going to get back to sleep before his final in a few hours, so he grabs his guitar and goes to the music building. It’s early enough that it’s quiet, which is always a weird thing. He only comes here when he has the time to spare, but it’s always bustling, full of people playing sonatas and singing arias or whatever it is that music students do.

When he gets to the practice rooms, he can only hear one other person: a violinist, playing scales. It sounds like they’re at the far end of the hall so he sets up shop in the room closest to him. It’s just him, his guitar, and the faint sounds of violin music if he listens for it.

Jamie sits down on the bench in front of the piano and strums out something slowly. Normally he tries and plays songs he knows, or even write his own, but this time he just… plays. It’s not music as much as it’s stress relief.

He loses track of time, like he always does. The violinist moves on from scales to something slow and mournful, and then something zippy and complicated. Jamie moves from chords to finger-picking. He starts singing after a while, first humming and then making up nonsense lyrics. And then lyrics about people he knows.

He’s in the middle of trying to write a song about this morning - what rhymes with Parker? - when the door cracks open. Jamie barely has time to stop playing before someone throws a folded sheet of paper inside, and then the door is closed again.

Carefully, he picks up the note and unfolds it. It says, in neat, curly handwriting, You sound great! Good luck on finals!

When Jamie opens the door and looks around, the violin music has stopped. And there’s nobody in sight.

He goes back to his guitar, but he doesn’t want to write about Parker anymore. Instead, he tries to think about what the violin sounded like earlier. Soaring, and a little melancholy, and the only other person in the quiet building.

#

It’s a nice story. Like, he shows the note to Parker when they’re done with finals, and Parker awws at him, and that’s what it’s going to be. This cool thing that happened to him once.

Except then Jamie wakes up at seven in the morning on Tuesday, too, and there’s fuck-all to do before his final in two hours, so he goes back to the music building.

The violinist is there again, and this time, Jamie goes to the room next to them. The soundproofing is about the same no matter what, and he might as well get a better spot to listen to them.

This time, he tries to accompany what he hears. Not super well, of course, because there’s only so much he can do. But he can figure out key signatures quickly, and he ends up strumming and humming as the violin zips through the same piece they’d played yesterday.

He can tell when they realize it, because after running that piece a couple times, they play a simple line from the piece. It’s slowed down a little, but they play it. And then again a minute later.

Carefully, Jamie plays a few chords in return, and he can hear the violinist laugh. It’s more of a giggle, really, something bright and tinkling. He barely has time to smile at the sound of it before they play something back.

They go on like that for… well, Jamie doesn’t know how long. He plays something, and they play something back. And then, abruptly, he hears something that sounds like a muffled curse word, and then the clunk of wood on wood. And then the door opens, and someone shouts “It was nice playing with you!”

Jamie rushes to open the door. The violinist is running down the hall, her case slung over her shoulder, skirt fluttering behind you. “You too!” he calls,” and he’s rewarded when she smiles over her shoulder as she rushes around a corner. She looks… bright. She has short hair and a smile that he could feel from a dozen yards away.

Jamie closes the door again and starts playing the chords from yesterday. When he starts singing again, just abstract notes, the melody is a lot crisper than it was. Something is taking shape here.

#

When Jamie opens the door to his apartment, he’s hit with a wave of… something pungent. “Is something burning?”

“No,” Parker’s boyfriend James shouts, and slams a lid down on the top of a griddle. “Nothing is- no burning!”

“No burning,” Jamie repeats, and shuts the door behind him, setting his guitar on the ground. “Is Parker here?”

“Asleep.” James lifts the lid of the pot, and a plume of smoke billows out. “Shit. I was going to surprise him with pancakes-”

“How did you get in our apartment?”

James scoffs. “Please, dude,” he says, as though that answers anything. “Do you know how to make pancakes?”

“I can help you make pancakes if you promise not to burn the building down.”

“Deal.” James steps away, taking the smoking griddle with him, and then eyes Jamie. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you awake this early.”

“I just couldn’t sleep in,” Jamie half-lies. Sure, he probably could’ve squeezed a little more sleep out of the morning, but going back to the violinist was… better.

“What were you doing?”

“Practicing guitar.”

“Are you a music student? No, you’re not, you’re film studies, what am I saying?”

Jamie nods and pauses. “You’re minoring in music, right?”

“Yeah, dude.”

“Do you know any violinists?”

“Not super well. You looking for a violinist?”

“I met one this morning.” Jamie frowns and sets a saucepan on the burner. “Well. Sort of.”

“Cool, who was it?”

“I was hoping you knew.”

“Do you not know?”

“No, we were sort of…” he sighs. “She was kind of short, black hair, really nice smile.”

“Ahhh,” James says wisely. “No idea who that is, dude.”

“Thanks,” Jamie mumbles.

“Who don’t you know?” Parker says from the hallway behind him. Jamie glances over his shoulder; he’s rubbing his eyes, but he beams at James when he sees him. “Aw, hey.”

“Hey,” James says, and goes over to kiss him on the cheek. “Your roommate met a girl.”

“Whoa,” Parker says. “What girl?”

“I think she was the one who gave me that note yesterday.” Jamie flips a pancake over warily. It looks a little runny, but at least it’s not burned.

“The finals note?” James says, because Parker tells James basically anything. “So she plays violin and she’s nice?”

“Nice violinist,” Parker repeats. “Oh, I know her.”

Jamie glances back at him. “Really?”

“Yeah, she’s in my medieval history class. She’s always running in late because she works in the mornings, but she brings homemade cookies sometimes. And a violin, sometimes.”

“Do you know her name?”

“Kiki? Mary? Something like that.”

“Kiki or Mary,” James repeats. “Kiki or Mary?”

“I’m bad with names, you know that.”

“Are you only dating me because I have the same name as your roommate?”

Jamie slides the pancakes onto a plate and turns just in time to watch Parker’s eyes widen. “No, I- I mean, it definitely makes life easier, even if it’s also a little harder when you’re in the same room, but-”

“That’s a yes,” James says. Parker groans and buries his face in his hands. James just winks at Jamie before dragging Parker’s hands away and kissing his cheek. “Don’t worry, I would totally live with someone else named Parker just to make life easier.”

“That’s sweet,” Parker says. He’s still painfully red, but he’s at least smiling now.

Normally, in moments like this, Jamie feels a spike of loneliness not unlike he’s being actually stabbed. But this time, all he thinks about is a violinist running down a hallway, wearing bright colors and smiling at him.

Maybe that’s the same thing as loneliness. Or maybe it’s something better.

#

The third day, Jamie gets up early on purpose. It’s not strange to be in the empty music building anymore, right up until he gets to the practice rooms and there’s no violinist playing.

He goes down to the same room as yesterday and sets up anyways, humming to himself the whole time. He sets up his phone to record and starts singing, because the words are coming, today.

When he checks his phone again, he’s been there for forty minutes, and the violinist still isn’t there. But he has lyrics now - actual lyrics for this song. And a melody, and chords, and he wrote a song. During finals.

He’s halfway through transcribing the words when the door to the practice room swings open. He looks up sharply and there she is, gasping for breath, looking terribly worried.

“Hi,” he says, because he’s not sure what else to say.

“Hi,” the violinist says, and sets her case on the ground. “I’m sorry, this- I don’t know if this is weird, if you wanted to keep up with this whole next-door thing or actually talk or see each other or-”

“I’m okay with talking,” Jamie says. He can’t take his eyes off her. She’s dressed in bright red, and her hair is mostly straight except for a lock near her cheek that’s wavy, almost curled. And she smiles, looking a little frantic, and he runs out of words for her, all of a sudden.

“Good,” she says, and pushes the door shut. “That’s good. I’m Mimi.”

“James. Or Jamie, if you know too many people named James.”

Mimi beams at him and sits down next to him on the piano bench, pulling her case onto her lap. “Nice to meet you, James or Jamie. Really meet you, I mean.”

“You too.” Jamie smiles, and she smiles back, and he doesn’t know why he says it, but suddenly he says, “I wrote a song for you.”

Mimi freezes. “What?”

“Or I didn’t,” he says quickly. “If that’s… weird, you know, because this is our first conversation.”

“No!” Mimi sets her violin on her lap. “Can I hear it?”

“Do you want to?”

“Of course I want to.”

“I’ll play it,” Jamie says, “and if you don’t like it I’ll buy you coffee to make up for it.”

“What if I do like it?”

“Then I’ll take you out for lunch instead.”

Mimi laughs, just as bright as it was yesterday, and Jamie can’t help but smile at her. “Okay, deal. Let me hear it.”

She likes the song. (They go out for coffee anyways.)

[witchymarvelspacecase]

Voiceless Pt. 5

Summary: (Reader Insert) Reader is a mutant/inhuman with a powerful voice (works a little like a banshee / a little like a siren). She’s had it a little tough since discovering her powers. She is found and taken in by Tony Stark and the remaining Avengers after the events of Civil War

Word Count:1425

Warnings: Swearing, confusion, plot twist!

A/N:A giant “Thank you” to @17sullivan who read my idea for this fic, then read this chapter and is an all around wonderful person. Thank you for the push love! And another to @writingwithadinosaur​ who continues to beta read for me even though I am SURE she has better things to do... Drea, you are the BEST!I would be lost without you!

And to the anon who told me this was one of their fave things I’ve written, I had no idea anyone really cared about it, but since you mentioned it, here is an update :)

Voiceless Masterlist

More hands and eyes hadn’t turned up much more on the search, but had resulted in Thor being found. You weren’t sure if you had wanted to know how Natasha had done that, but given the information that Thor had been able to provide, you also weren’t sure you cared.

Thor had pointed to a being named Thanos, who had been poking around in universal affairs for a while. Thor said that Thanos wasn’t directly involved, but that some of his followers were; namely the teleporter. A man by the name of Mordo was the one responsible for Tony’s abduction. Thor didn’t know too much about him, but he knew someone else who did. Along with Jane, and Thor’s mysterious friend, the team was now tracking Mordo’s whereabouts, and potentially, Tony’s.

You hadn’t been able to help much. There was nothing an enhanced waitress could do that the Avengers couldn’t. Natasha had taken over your training, and you were grateful. Although Tony and Rhodey had been training you, Natasha’s fighting style was more adapted to your size, and muscle tone. Plus, Tony and Rhodey relied on weaponry, Natasha relied on her own body; she was more physical than either of the boys had been. You frequently left the gym sore, and bruised, but you were becoming more confident. Clint had taken to showing you how to shoot and even let you try your hand at archery. You weren’t wonderful at it, but he said you weren’t hopeless, so you figured that was a start. Still, you weren’t a lot of help to anyone. So when you weren’t training, you’d taken to holing yourself up in either your room or the booth.

The booth was a 100% soundproof room that Tony had outfitted for you. It had a keyboard, guitar and sound system, along with some seriously comfy chairs.

“You like to sing don’t you?” You’d nearly cried when Tony showed you the room for the first time.

“Yeah… I- I love it. Does this mean I can? I can sing without it affecting anyone?”

“That was the idea, yeah.” Tony looked so proud of himself when you smiled, and you could tell you shocked him when you threw your arms around him, but how could you not?

He’d gone out of his way to make a space just for you. A space where you could do what you loved without fear. He gained nothing by doing that, and you hadn’t asked him to do it, he’d just done it.

Nobody had gone out of their way for you like that before, and you didn’t know what to say, so you’d hugged him and thanked him so many times you’d lost count. After a second, Tony returned your hug, his arms tightening around you.

“You’re welcome, kid.”

The booth worked a dream; it kept the others safe, but granted you your sanity.

“Sometimes the weight is more than I can hold,

I’d rather fail than never really know.

If it takes for-ever,

I will die trying.

If it takes for-ever,

I will die trying.

I will die trying.”

As the last chord faded, a knock sounded on the door, you opened it to see Bucky on the other side.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Were you singing just now?” he asked.

“Um yeah. Wait, could you hear me?!”

“A little.”

“But it’s soundproof!”

“Serum enhanced hearing,” he said gesturing to his ear.

“Oh shit! I could have been influencing you. Fuck! I’m so sorry!” You were panicking now; you’d never intended to influence anyone, but your control may have slipped given how stressed and tired you were. Oh no, if Bucky could hear you, then so could Steve. What of you’d influenced them both? Oh, they’d never trust you, and you wouldn’t blame them. Shit! And you’d been doing so well…

“Y/N, Y/N! Doll, snap out of it!” Bucky was yelling. Then you realized his hands were both on your shoulders, and he was shaking you slightly.

“Shit, sorry. Sorry,” you repeated, raising your hands to cover your face.

“Nothin’ to be sorry for. I told ya, you didn’t influence me or anything.”

“I- I didn’t?” your brow furrowed, “what about before, when I found you in the gym?”

“I don’t think so,” Bucky released your shoulders, and ran his metal hand over the back of his head, “I didn’t feel anything. Your voice was soothing, that’s all.”

Your eyes widened. You had been actively trying to influence Bucky before, if that hadn;t worked… What if your power was gone? Okay, okay. What should you do?

What would Tony do?

Experiment.

You asked Vision, Rhodey and Natasha if you could test your powers on them. Surprisingly, they all agreed. The three of them sat in the booth with you and Bucky while the others sat just outside. You started with a small influence; an itch. Everyone but Bucky scratched their noses.

Trying again, you sang and pushed the desire to stand. Again, all but Bucky stood up.

“Okay, I am going to try and get you three to sit down. Fight the influence this time,” you instructed before humming with the intention of getting Vision, Rhodes and Natasha to sit back in their chairs. Natasha was the last to sit, but they had all sat down within a minute.

Everyone else was waiting in the hallway, and when the four of you left the booth and you explained what had happened, they all shared a shocked expression.

“Is it even possible for someone to be completely unaffected?” you muttered in disbelief; you’d never come across this before.

“It stands to reason that if there are people who are more susceptible to your influence, and less susceptible to it, that there would be the possibility of a person being completely immune,” Vision answered in his ever calm voice as you looked to Bucky.

“Maybe it’s the serum,” he suggested, shrugging.

“Dunno, Buck. My serum made me more susceptible,” Steve said.

This started a whole slew of questions you couldn’t answer. With more questions, you decided to experiment a little more. You tested the effect on all of the heroes; Wanda was the most affected, Natasha was the least, besides Bucky. Even Thor was affected. How was it possible that your voice influenced what counted as a god, but not Bucky?

“I just don’t get it,” you said, staring at the holoscreen in Tony’s lab. A simulation of your voice was playing across it; even the computer couldn't explain how it was that Bucky remained unaffected.

“Does it matter?” came a voice from behind you. You looked over your shoulder to see Steve and Natasha in the doorway.

“No, I guess it doesn’t. I’ve just always thought that everyone was susceptible. That I was a danger to everyone. I don’t know. It’s… nice to think that someone isn’t affected. Even if it’s just one person, ya know?”

Steve nodded as he came over and leaned against the desk next to you, crossing his arms over his chest. Natasha walked just past you to another holoscreen, and turned it on.

“I think Bucky’s just as surprised as you are. Figures the serum and all of HYDRA’s messing around would have found a way to make him immune. At least there’s one good side effect.” Steve grinned at you. You were about to reply when Natasha spoke up.

“What’s this?” she asked. To you, she sounded like she may have already known what she was seeing, that she was seeking confirmation rather than clarification.

“Looks like vital stats,” Steve said, peering around you to see Natasha’s screen.

“Yeah, but whose? No one is in medical,” Natasha said, typing away at the keyboard. “Y/N, do you know the passwords?”

“I can guess, but I don’t think Tony gave me the masters.” That would have been ridiculous. He barely knew you.

Then again, he had let you into the compound and the tower; his homes. And he’d brought you into the Avengers; his family. You knew quite a bit about him already…

And the passwords that you entered, unlocked the computer.

Video feeds opened, showing a long metal tube that sort of resembled a coffin. One feed was a wide shot, showing the whole tube, the other was a close up. The close up looked in through a clear panel at the top of the tube, at the face of the man inside the tube.

“Holy shit,” Steve gasped.

“What?” you asked, coming closer, “who is that?”

“That’s Wanda’s brother.”

I’m not sorry, this GIF is too perfect!

Perma Tags: @buckyappreciationsociety @17marvelousfreak @melconnor2007 @feelmyroarrrr @addictionmarvel @writingwithadinosaur @whenallsaidanddone @hello-sweetie-get-the-salt @umwhatandrea @pineapplebooboo @thefridgeismybestie

Voiceless Tags: @lostinspace33 @kaitymccoy123 @davros2004 @owhatshername1 @bad-wolf87 @saysay125

[rainforest-rosegold]

Day 4: Selfishness

Read it on AO3! http://archiveofourown.org/works/12153255

“Why am I so useless?” Lance shouted to no one, the one-way soundproof nature of his cabin ensuring that none of the others would hear him.  With an utterly defeated sigh, he flopped onto his bunk, staring at the ceiling.

That day’s battle aboard the Galra battle cruiser had objectively gone extremely well.  When the time had come to make their escape, Shiro and Keith had led the charge with energized arm and dual swords, respectively.  Pidge had hacked into the battle cruiser’s defenses to turn them to the Paladins’ side, while Allura, still in a Galra guise, had carried the highly unstable prototype quintessence converter they had stolen.  Meanwhile, Lance and Hunk had protected their backs.

“There are too many of them!” Hunk yelped as another wave of sentries rounded the corner.

“Can we make it back to the Lions before they catch us?” Lance asked anxiously.

“Maybe…”  Pidge didn’t exactly sound hopeful.

Suddenly Allura appeared at Lance’s side.  “May I borrow that?”

“What, my bayard?”

“Yes.”

Lance was so taken aback, he handed it to her without even thinking.  Immediately, it morphed into the energy whip she had wielded in her brief but effective time as the Blue Paladin, and she charged the sentries, still keeping a grip on the prototype in her free hand.

The Paladins -- those who had weapons, anyway -- fought with renewed vigor, and soon the path back to their Lions was clear.  As they split off for their respective crafts, Allura handed Lance his bayard before joining Keith in Red.  “Thanks, Lance!” she called over her shoulder.

“You’re welcome.”  Lance’s voice held little enthusiasm as he climbed aboard Blue and took off toward the Castle.

Lance winced at the memory.  Everyone present had played a vital role in the battle -- everyone, that is, except him.  They didn’t need me there at all.

Restless, Lance stood and headed for the bridge, not so much because he wanted to see anybody, but because he had nothing better to do.  Finding it deserted and the Castle in standby mode, he brought up the holographic map of the universe.  Locating the dot that represented the Castle, he found that they were surprisingly close to Earth -- close enough to be there within a quintant without using the teludav.

The seed of an idea planted itself in Lance’s mind.  He could go home to his family, and most likely, nobody would miss him.  After all, they already had a better Blue Paladin than he could ever be, leaving no place for him among Team Voltron.  His mind made up, he headed to his room, packed the things he wanted to keep, and grabbed a pen and a piece of paper, figuring it would be polite to let the others know where he had gone.

Dear everyone, I’m leaving Team Voltron.  It’s pretty obvious after today that you don’t need me, and since we’re close to Earth, I’m going home.  Allura can claim her rightful place as the Blue Paladin, and you won’t have to worry about me being a burden.  Good luck out there. All my love, Lance

Satisfied that the note conveyed everything he needed it to, Lance left it on the central console on the bridge and slunk down to the pod bay.  Selecting a pod, he climbed in and set a course for Earth.

As the pod launched, Lance felt Blue calling to him, begging him to stay.  “Sorry, girl,” he murmured.  “You’ll be better off without me.”  He forced himself not to look back at the Castle as he drifted farther and farther from Voltron and closer and closer to Earth.

Drifting through space alone in a small space was excruciatingly boring, Lance soon found.  His first thought was to try some of the car games his family had always played on road trips, but it was difficult to play the alphabet game without billboards, and spotting license plates didn’t work without cars.  He tried singing, which lasted maybe half a minute before his own tone-deafness drove him to stop.  Maybe I’ll just close my eyes for a few seconds…

“Lance!”

Lance jolted awake at the sound of his name being shouted in his ear.  “Wha-huh?”

“What do you think you’re doing?”  By this time, Lance was awake enough to recognize the voice as belonging to Pidge, and she did not sound happy.  “What were you thinking, running off like this?”

“Didn’t you get my note?” Lance asked.

“Yes, we got your note.”  Pidge’s voice was tinged with acid.  Lance noticed a blinking button with a camera icon on it and pressed it, regretting it immediately as a screen appeared to display the Green Paladin scowling ferociously at him.

“So?  What do you want?”

“What do I want?”  Pidge’s face flushed with anger.  “I want you to come back!”

“What’s the point?” Lance grumbled.

“Team Voltron needs you,” Pidge insisted.

Lance rolled his eyes.  “Right.  Because what every team of defenders of the universe needs is a second-rate Blue Paladin who’s useless at everything he tries to do.”

“A Blue Paladin that we need!  You’re being selfish!”

“You have a Blue Paladin!” Lance snapped, losing his cool completely.  “I don’t care if I’m acting selfish, it’s the truth!”

Silence.

“Pidge?”

“Fine.”  Pidge took a deep, shuddering breath.  “I guess this isn’t something I can argue with you.”

“So you’ll let me go?”

Pidge sighed.  “I still think Team Voltron needs you, but even if they don’t… I need you, Lance.”

Lance stared at her image on the screen.  “What?”

“Maybe it’s selfish of me to try and keep you from going home, but I want you to stay.  I don’t know how I’d make it through each day without your stupid jokes, and your constant smiles, and the way your eyes light up whenever you’re excited…”  Pidge sniffled and turned away from the camera.

“You… you really think that way about me?”  Lance was dumbfounded.

“Of course.”  Her voice cracked a little.  “I don’t know what I’d do if you were gone.”

Lance could only stare at her, her amber eyes glimmering with barely repressed tears, and it occurred to him just how important she was to him.  How could I have thought of abandoning her?  He took a deep breath, taking a last look in the direction he thought Earth lay before resetting the pod’s course.  “I’ll never try to leave you again,” he promised.

[ramblinganthropologist]

Writober 19 - Secret Identity

Summary: It’s not easy, being part of S4. Luckily, Tsukamoto Lena has a good way to work out some tension. Metal music might not be the most conventional therapy, but it works wonders. 

---

“Everyone, thank you for coming today!”

The audience screaming in front of the stage was a rush of red-tinged penlights. They matched the spotlights and the glitter on stage in front of them as the girl on stage smiled and waved at her fans. She was wearing red too – a bright red coat, topping off the famous 4 Star Academy S4 uniform. It was the dream for any 4 Star Student.

For Tsukamoto Lena, it was Tuesday.

“I hope to see you all back real soon!” She winked and flashed a thumbs up to the cheering crowds as she disappeared behind the stage. As soon as nobody could see her, she let out a massive sigh of relief. Her shoulders dropped almost as fast as the sweat dripping down her brow like a river. It got hot under those lights, even more when she started moving around.

If only the Aikatsu system had a built in fan...

Slowly, she plodded down the hallway from the stage to S4's dressing room. Given how she could still hear the crowd, the live had been a smashing success. Of course, S4 always brought it when they came on stage. That was their job.

“Man, I'm tired.” Lena brushed sweaty lavender hair out of her face and watched as it fell back. “Better dry off and get going.”

She found the dressing room, labeled with the names of S4 members. When she opened it, it wasn't really a voluntary action; the girl more or less fell against the door to get it open, then held on for dear life as it swung open. Right after a solo stage, that was all the energy she had.

“Good job today, Lena-chan!” a bubbly voice sounded from the side. A girl in a similar outfit was seated at the table, drinking from a water bottle. Her senpai, Nijino Yume, always managed to have more than enough energy. How she managed to look so perfect after a full set was still a mystery to the younger idol, but she admired it all the same.

Lena managed to smile and nod. “Thanks, Yume-senpai. You were really awesome up there with your Sun Wings. Everyone loved it.”

“It really worked the crowd up!” Yume handed her a red water bottle as she sat for a few minutes to breathe. “You look like you really got into it out there.”

Was it the sweat and messy hair that had given it away? Lena kept her smile as she took a sip of the water. Soon she had her towel and was wiping off the massive amounts of sweat. Luckily, their actual uniforms were still hanging up. These were just the stage versions – they would get too sweaty otherwise.

Speaking of – her phone beeped in the pocket of her actual uniform jacket. It took quite a lot of effort for Lena to stand up, but she managed it to cross the small distance. Her phone was an easy find, still tucked into the left pocket where she'd left it.

Ema: Yo, Tsuna. You coming or what tonight?

Shit.

Lena glanced at the clock. She had two hours to get back to school, then make it to her next work location. It was hard, but doable. Nothing she wasn't used to as she typed in a response one-handed, still clutching her towel.

Tsuna: Yeah I'll be there. You better be on key this time, dude.

“Senpai, I'm going to head back. My next job's coming up. Tell Ako-senpai and Mahiru-senpai they sounded great for me.”

Yume nodded as Lena headed back out into the hallway to catch a ride back to Four Star. It was something they were all used to – the demands of being an idol meant they were always on the move. Sometimes you couldn't stay behind to talk to your friends – even if you really wanted to do it. That was just part of being an idol.

It wasn't a pleasant part, but she had learned to accept it.

---

“You look like shit, Tsuna.”

“I ran all the way here, give me a break.”

It was another backstage, a smaller one covered in band posters. Outside of the room, loud metal music blared through speakers to a screaming crowd. There wasn't a single glow stick to be found among the bunch, just a lot of raised fists and throwing up the horns.

She loved it.

“Ever heard of the bus?” A girl with a guitar – Ema – adjusted her jacket. “You're lucky you're good in gym class, that'd kill me.”

Lena nodded, careful not to move her hat too much. She had ditched her school uniform for jeans and a red hoodie. Her face was currently hidden by a dark wig and a beanie that kept everything together. If she spoke in her lower register, nobody looked twice. To them, she was just a pretty damn skilled middle schooler.

Just the way she wanted it.

“It's about the only thing I'm good at.” She paused to peak out. “Damn, that crowd is huge.”

Not nearly as big as the one she had been singing in front of before, but it had a more entertaining energy. Something about it just felt... real... to her. She could never quite describe it, but something about standing in front of that wild crowd gave her enough energy to keep going.

Lena had found the band she fronted for months ago through a paper someone had tacked to the wall at a recording studio. The girls of Thornslash were older middle school and high school, but they had accepted her readily. Now they were like something of a second family to her.

A secret family that didn't know what she did during the rest of her week... so maybe they weren't that close.

“Hope you practiced that growl, we're on in five.” Their drummer, the founder and a high school first year named Mari, was already practicing with her sticks. She often did that when they weren't performing; it was her tick.

The bassist, a middle school third year, scoffed lightly. “Don't be too worried, the next group is all idol-y. I guess they think they're the next Babymetal.”

“They wish. They're just two bit idol wannabes.”

Lena swallowed hard as the band chuckled. Another reason to have a secret identity. She had never asked how the group specifically felt about idols, but it probably wasn't too great. After all, Ema's sister had tried to get into 4 Star. She had grown up hearing audition songs and the angst of not getting in after all that practice. Apparently her family didn't talk about it anymore. As a younger sister, she could only guess how the guitarist felt and well... she didn't want to poke that bear.

So she'd keep her sparkly coords to herself, thank you very much.

She didn't have much time to think about it, though. The band before them had left the stage, meaning it was their time up. On the way up, they passed the so-called idol band chatting. Definitely sparkly enough, though Lena didn't pick up any auras. Most likely, they were just girls with a color scheme.

Cute girls, but not idols. Easy rookie mistake.

The crowd was already riled up as the band took the stage. Lena stood at the front, mic in front of her. Behind her, the rest of the band tuned and prepared to start playing. She took a deep breath as she surveyed the crowd, so different from her usual ones and yet the same in one way. They were there to see her perform, and she was going to give it her all. It didn't matter what she was singing – when she stepped on stage, it was to play for keeps.

And she was a stubborn asshole.

Behind her, the drum beat started and soon the guitar and bass roared to life. Their song pounded through the speakers, loud and jarring and so completely opposite from the idol tunes she spent days practicing for.

At least she didn't have to dance here.

Lena smirked as she grabbed for the mic. When it was her time to come in, she came in hard with her chest voice rather than the head tone she had to use in her normal day job. Really, the best part about being a secret metal singer was that she got to scream at people without getting yelled at. It was the best therapy there was.

She lost track of time, screaming into that microphone. One song followed another, until they had worked through the entire short set. Sweat dripped down her brow once more as they finished the last song, the crowd screaming with them. It was a wave of sound crashing down on them, screaming the band's name as they finally left the stage for the next group.

Lena felt boneless as she leaned against the wall, sweat dripping off her chin and onto the floor. “I think we rocked it.”

“Almost feel bad for the band that's coming next. Poor idols can't handle something like that.” Ema punched her lightly in the shoulder. “Damn good screaming out there, Tsuna. You're going to be killing death metal by high school at this rate.”

She grinned and punched back. “Hope you'll still be able to keep up on backup vocals once I get there.”

High school – that was a whole other beast for idols. Lena didn't even want to think about that then as she joked with her band mates. Right then, she was just a middle school metal head. Anything else could come later.

“Don't get cocky, kid. You're still like 12.” Ema was all smiles as she and the rest of the band headed off in their separate directions. Lena watched them go, waiting. Then she went in her own direction, towards the bus stop. After that, it be the direct line back to 4 Star.

Her schedule was beeping in her back pocket, reminding her that she had two interviews and a radio show in the morning tomorrow. Then there would be practice for her solo live, and then afternoon classes with the rest of the dance group. If she was lucky, she'd be able to get some metal practice in after, in one of the soundproof practice rooms. They were good for screaming.

Just looking at her schedule made her smile fall. Lena sighed as she rubbed the back of her neck. The whole week was going to be like that, and the week after that. That's what happened when you were a top idol.

“Shit.”

Shoulders sagging, she sat down on the bus stop to wait. There went her good mood. It was back to reality now. At least here, nobody would mind if she didn't smile. That would be a requirement when she was back in uniform. Until then, she could just be herself.

So she treasured those few quiet moments. They kept her as sane almost as much as screaming into a mic did. That probably wasn't a great sign for her health, but... well... she couldn't complain. She had brought it on herself.

Another day in the life of a popular idol, she supposed. And people actually wanted to be in her spot?