#which is impressive givin I can barely take them

[scriv3lloirl]

ur art is super epic awesome !!!

Awww, thank you. Thas' very sweet of ya t' say heh🫶‼️🦷

[devilscreekballad]

Commission for BirbWaifu

With @birbwaifu ‘s permission, here’s the writing commission done for them <3

Thanks again for commissioning me.

If you wanna commission a story as well, check out the pinned post.

Enjoy

"Ya think they know?"

It wasn't an easy-to-answer question Nobu was posing there, but he felt a heavy weight lifting off his shoulders as the words finally left his mouth.

Charlie put his book down and pulled himself up into a marginally more upright position as they laid cuddled together in their train compartment's bed, reading.

"How d'ya mean?" he wondered, blinking down at the man resting against his chest.

Nobu drew a breath to answer, but paused. He knew the way he worded that question could mean a couple of things, and all of them had been weighing him down.

"About... all of it, I guess," he thus answered, looking briefly up at Charlie before listening to the other man's heartbeat again. "About me, 'bout you, us... this whole misadventure."

"I wouldn't call it misadventure, Nobu," Charlie said softly, playing lazily with the other's short hair. "I mean, look at what we achieved. But as for that... I don't think me family knows 'bout it. Nothing ya really put in the papers, right? An' what might make it into the papers... There's not really much o' a connection to us, is there?"

Nobu nodded.

"An' they already know 'bout ya," Charlie continued, gently caressing the other's cheek. "No one uttered a bad word 'bout ya since the wedding, so no need to worry there." Charlie shuffled and pressed a kiss onto the crown of Nobu's head. "And trust me, if anyone would have a problem with ya, Ada would rip'em a new one."

Nobu chuckled softly, and sighed.

"But what about us being together?" he wondered.

"Same deal," Charlie shrugged, giving Nobu's arm a squeeze. "But we'll find out for certain soon enough."

Something about Charlie's tone wasn't right. Nobu shifted a little to look at his lover once again.

"Yer alright?"

Charlie blinked once more, nodding.

"Am. Just still tryin' to wrap my head around everythin'. This was a bit bigger than anything we did before."

"It sure was."

And Charlie sighed.

"Wanna hear the punchline? The bit I find hardest to grasp is that ya actually love me back, and confessed first. All these years, we rode together and..."

Now Nobu sat up and smiled, bemused.

"We're both two oblivious fools, ain't we?" he said, now resting his head against Charlie's shoulder.

"Oblivious and both in bloody denial, Nobu," Charlie answered, taking the smaller man's hand. "But I'm glad you said something. I'm not certain I woulda had the courage to do so."

Now Nobu blinked.

"Ya really think so?"

Charlie nodded, smiling bitterly.

"With all that happened, I guess if you would not have said anything there and then... I woulda started tellin' meself that ya don't have the same feelings for me. 'Cause when all that crap didn't encourage ya to say anything..."

"It wouldn't have encouraged ya either by the sound of it," Nobu deadpanned, looking a little grumpy. "And yer the more courageous of the two of us."

Charlie awkwardly cleared his throat.

"Well... I..." he began, but Nobu gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

"But I get ya. I... I think I woulda jumped to the same conclusion 'bout ya had I not said anything."

Charlie smiled and put the book away, turning to Nobu to gently kiss his forehead.

"We're a match made in... God knows where..." he chuckled, cuddling into the pillow.

Nobu did the same.

"Ya think we'll ever see the others again?" he wondered as Charlie turned off the small lamp. "I mean, they said they'll stay in contact, but..."

"I'm quite certain 'bout Mrs. Meadows. Can't imagine Blayne won't keep his eye on us, and she'll be the best way to do so. With O'Brian, Burke an' their brethren, I'd say it depends on what the world has in store for'em. Miss Florence will certainly write." Charlie hummed in thought. "I think the only real tricky one will be Lynwood, what with him moving to England. He'll either write eagerly or will get wrapped up in work again."

Nobu nodded gently. This sounded about right.

"Those were some weird weeks," he said.

Charlie sighed in agreement.

"That they were. But one can't argue we didn't end our career as outlaws on a high note."

"As if you'd actually give up on gamblin' and hustlin'."

Charlie laid his arm around Nobu, pulling him closer.

"I'll cut it down for ya, an' ya know that," he said, giving Nobu a loving squeeze. "But now we should sleep. I'd like to be awake properly when we meet me family."

"Yeah, not riskin' givin' them any advantage."

Both men chuckled, and Nobu leaned up to kiss Charlie's cheek.

"I love you."

"I love you too." Charlie returned the kiss. "Good night."

"Good night."

~~o~~

The next morning came, and Nobu woke to the conductor knocking on the compartment door, announcing that they'll reach their destination in less than an hour.

Nobu sat up, yawned, and looked down at Charlie, watching the other man's chest rise and fall gently. And after a moment, Nobu playfully ran a hand over Charlie's stomach. Charlie stirred awake, blinking blearily at his lover.

"G'morning," he slurred, squirming a bit. "Ya really took a liking to tickling me awake, didn't ya?"

Nobu sighed and searched Charlie's eye.

"I..." he began. "I guess I'm tryin' to tell meself this ain't a dream."

Charlie smiled and reached up to caress Nobu's cheek.

"I get that. I think I told ya that I'm still wrappin' me head around all of it." Charlie cocked his head. "But I get the impression yer really worried 'bout things."

"Am," Nobu admitted. "We got a new life ahead o' us, and..."

"Yer scared, no matter how much ya wanted it?"

Nobu nodded, and Charlie pulled him into a gentle hug.

"Look, Nobu, I can't promise ya that life will be outrageously easier now. But it should be a less rocky road. An' we've weathered so many storms together already, I think we can weather the next few as well."

Nobu nuzzled his face into the crook of Charlie's neck, humming gently. It took a moment before he sat back up, looking down at Charlie.

"Yer counting tellin' yer family we're together as one of'em storms?" he asked, all perfect innocence. And Charlie snorted a laugh.

"Oh, that depends on how obnoxious they'll be about it," Charlie answered, stretched and clambered out of bed. "But I ain't tellin' ya nothin' new when I say ou'll fit right in with the bunch o' altruistic hens that me family is."

Now Nobu laughed as well, watching Charlie get dressed.

"Ya warned me before," he joked then, getting up himself.

It wasn't until everything was packed and the train slowed as it neared the station that Charlie fell thoughtful again.

"Penny for yer thoughts?" Nobu asked.

Charlie looked at him, and then at the window, watching the scenery go by.

"Told ya, still lettin' things sink in. Right now it's mostly the fact that I haven't seen me family in person since Grace's wedding."

Nobu nodded.

"We sure got a lot to tell'em..."

Charlie smirked.

"I reckon those tales will be a good warm up till we get to the big reveal."

"Ya mean that we saved the world or that we got together?"

Charlie pretended to earnestly ponder this.

"Yes," he then said with a cackle, and earned a gentle elbow to the side for it. But Nobu chuckled as well.

"We should go then," Nobu said as the train stopped, shouldering his bag. "I'm certain I saw Ada and Oscar waitin' for us."

~~o~~

Now, Charlie was never the kind of person to get overwhelmed too easily. But arriving at one's family's home and being greeted by around a dozen-something friendly faces will very easily do the trick.

Charlie had barely gotten off the carriage when he was swarmed by various nephews and nieces, and while Oscar carried their luggage inside, Ada took the opportunity to have a small heart-to-heart with Nobu a bit away from the group.

"Whatever ya did after Potter's Springs musta been a big one to get Charlie to come home for good after all this time," she said, watching Charlie for a bit.

Nobu smiled askew.

"Don't be like that. Ya know how much he'd have loved to be here more often. An' yer one to talk. Yer always out an' about yerself." Then Nobu realized something and his eyes grew wide. "Wait, how do ya know about..."

"Potter's Springs? Josie wrote to me when that Pinkerton agent of yers got ya stuck in town for a bit." Ada smiled slyly. "Can't believe ya an' Charles worked with a bloody Pinkerton."

Nobu sighed.

"Neither could we."

"Did ya leave him to rot in the end?"

Nobu furrowed his brow.

"No. Truth be told, he... he's not that bad a person. And he quit his job."

Ada chuckled.

"Good call." She patted Nobu's back. "Come, ya gotta meet the other new members o' the family."

Nobu nodded and followed her, only to stop dead in his tracks when he realized something else.

"W-why did ya word it like that?"

With a smirk, Ada waved him to follow.

"I'll tell ya when Charlie's in hearin' range. Would spoil all the fun otherwise."

By all means, Nobu couldn't say that that sounded promising, but there was nothing else he could do but follow.

About ten or fifteen minutes later Nobu and Charlie had been introduced to all the new members of the family, and another ten till they were seated on a large and nicely decorated breakfast table.

Something that made Charlie squirm with a bit of embarrassment.

"Ya did this all for us?" he asked, to which his mother ruffled his hair after putting a basket of boiled eggs down.

"Ya been away from home for so long, Charlie, and ya pulled quite a stunt in New Hamelin." As you and Charlie blinked a little confused, Charlie's mother smiled and retrieved a newspaper from the shelf, handing it over. "We do get the papers out here, Charles. An' yer not goin' to tell me this kinda thing isn't right up yer alley."

Charlie cleared his throat quite abashed, putting the paper back down.

"Well, yes..." he began.

"Glad to see ya ended on a high note," Ada noted. "One last big thing before you an' Nobu settled down. So, what are yer plans now?"

Charlie quirked a brow.

"Get a job, I guess."

"As what?" Ada teased. "With yer skillset ya'd be best suited for politics, but ya got too good a heart for that."

Charlie snorted a curt laugh and leaned back.

"Yer kind as always, Ada. I was thinking 'journalism'. Maybe writing. Good respectable work, that."

Something about this made a smile tug on Nobu's lips.

There was some agreeing murmuring, some nodding and some eyerolling around the table, before Ada looked at Nobu.

"An' you?"

Nobu winced, taking a deep breath.

"I dunno yet. I-I mean I'm no good with words an' all, but... maybe I can find something at a bookstore in the city. A library. Ya know I like to read."

"Well, good to know Charlie will have someone to read what he put out," Ada quipped, grabbing the breadbasket and helping herself to a small tower of rolls. "But that aside, why don't ya tell us the whole story."

"Yes," Grace chimed in. "What happened that made ya finally decide to settle down with Nobu."

"Well, it's quite a long..." Charlie began, but then narrowed his eye at his sister. "Why did ya word it like that?"

Grace giggled in response, while Ada did her best to not start laughing out loud. Charlie cast Nobu a suspicious glance, and Nobu, albeit just for a moment, wished the ground would open and swallow him whole.

"I think they know," Nobu mumbled, and Charlie frowned.

"We suspected," Ada corrected. "Since Grace's wedding, the way the two o' yer been with each other..."

"Why didn't ya say anything?" Charlie protested, to which Grace spoke up.

"Charlie, that kinda thing is something the two of ya had to come to terms with for yerself," she said. "But to tell the truth, if ya wouldn't have gotten together by now Ada woulda set out to screw yer heads back on right."

Charlie and Nobu turned their gazes to Ada, who smiled back self-satisfied.

"Look at ya two," she said. "Ya've been workin' together so well since ya met, and one would have to be really oblivious to not notice that." He smile softened. "But I know yer both... yer both the kind of people who deny themselves that anything good can ever happen to them for a longer time. But..."

Charlie waved her off, taking a deep breath.

"We... already figured we're oblivious fools, no need to rub it in," he said, clearing his throat.

"That you are," Ada agreed, and smiled. "But we're all happy ya finally figured it out."

Charlie smiled at Nobu, and Nobu smiled back, nudging Charlie's leg below the table.

"But now let's eat," Ada called, "before it all gets cold."

"Can't argue with that," Charlie muttered, getting Nobu to chuckle.

~~o~~

"Charlie?" Nobu asked as they sat on a bank in the house's small garden, catching their breath after breakfast.

"Mhnn?"

"I've been thinking."

"About?"

"What do ya think?" Nobu smiled, resting his head against Charlie's shoulder. "About what yer family said. About us. We been so busy with wrappin' our heads 'round what happened in Devil's Creek, an' us being two godforsaken fools that we didn't even think about just what we're goin' to do now."

Charlie smiled, leaned his head against Nobu's and laid an arm around the other man.

"We still had a good answer to it, don't ya think?"

Nobu pondered this.

"Yes, but... I mean I can imagine ya writin' books, but I-I can't see myself sellin' any... or anything."

Charlie pressed a gentle, careful kiss to Nobu's temple.

"I'm sure ya can," he said, squeezing Nobu's shoulder. "An' we got time now. We're not on the run anymore."

"There's still people who have a bone or two to pick with us."

Charlie nodded with a sigh.

"I know. But we can handle them. Settling down doesn't mean lettin' one's guard down, now does it."

Nobu nodded.

"Are ya scared," Charlie asked softly.

"A bit. Not just about that... about everythin'."

"Me too, that much I can tell ya." Charlie looked forlornly at the sky for a moment, caressing Nobu's shoulder absentmindedly. "It's weird, innit?"

"Mhnn?"

"All the things we've been through an' this is what we're scared 'bout the most."

"Well," Nobu began, pondering. "I guess it's 'cause we've never been in such a situation before. It was always 'us and where we go from here for the next hustle'. Now it's... Us and where we'll go from here for us."

Charlie chuckles gently.

"Yeah, it is." Then he shuffled around, looking at Nobu. "Well, where do we go from here?"

Nobu blinked.

"Didn't we just talk 'bout that?" he wondered.

"I mean literally," Charlie said, leaning back again and looking up at the sky wistfully. "The world is big, Nobu. There's a lot of places to go an' see, an' about as much to stay there for a bit longer than we usually do. So, where do we go from here? See the world? Build a small house somewhere on the frontier? Go back to civilization?"

Charlie's gaze was gentle and free of any sarcasm as he looked back at Nobu. And Nobu just smiled, just as gentle and honest, before he cuddled against Charlie again, laying the other man's arm around his shoulder once more.

"I don't know yet. I guess I'll see," he said, entwining his fingers with Charlie's.

Charlie chuckled softly, giving Nobu's hand a soft squeeze.

"Yes... But... it's funny. I know one thing for certain." He smiled and cupped Nobu's chin, pressing a tender, loving kiss onto the other's lips. "I won't go anywhere without you by my side."

[mamabearcatfanfics]

Be My Baby

Was going through AO3 to see if there were any new comments I hadn’t answered, and I came across this, which I wrote way back in March 2019. Doesn’t that seem like forever ago? I need to get back into writing for Fairy Tail. I miss Natsu and Lucy. And even though I don’t know if I’ll ever write this Dirty Dancing AU, which is still at the scribbly planning stage, I still loved writing this. Mutual pining rich girl Lucy and rough around the edges dancer Natsu - what’s not to like? I’m tempted to do a piece of art to go with this.

If you prefer, you can read this on AO3

Natsu stood straight and poised, his arms stretched outwards. “Now, the most important thing to remember in lifts… is balance.” He rose up onto his toes and jumped straight up suddenly, the fallen tree trunk they were both standing on shuddering under the sudden pressure as he landed. Lucy squeaked, immediately dropping to grab onto a convenient branch, giggling as she sat down and watched Natsu shuffling around to regain his balance.

“I got it now”, he grinned.

She watched as he walked gracefully along the fallen tree spanning the stream underneath them, the dappled sunlight highlighting his tanned skin, almost sighing at the smoothness of his movements. It seemed unfair that any one person could be so attractive and at ease in his own skin. A sudden thought struck her. “Where’d you learn to be a dancer Natsu?”

“Well, this guy came into this luncheonette one day, an’ ya know, we were all sittin’ around doin’ nothin”, he shrugged, sitting down on the log, ruffling his rose-pink hair nonchalantly with one hand, watching her interested expression as he answered her question. “He said that Fairytail was givin’ a test for instructors. So, if ya passed they’d teach ya all these different kinds of dances, show ya how ta break ‘em down, how ta teach ‘em, ya know?” He placed his hands in front of him and jumped back to his feet in one fluid movement.

Lucy’s eyes widened as he bent his knee, lunging forwards in a fencing pose and flicked his finger towards her with a smirk and a glint in his eye.

“What?”

He grinned at her, his finger beckoning first to her and then to the spot right in front of him.

“No”, she said, without hesitation, shaking her head at him so her blonde hair tumbled around her shoulders. Was he insane? She had trouble doing the dance steps on level ground, let alone standing on a tree trunk thinner than a balance beam.

Ignoring her protests, he strode forward and reached down to grab her hands, helping to balance her as she wobbled, looking down with trepidation at the drop below them. She suddenly realised that the water in the stream below them really wasn’t very deep, and those rocks looked bone-breakingly jagged. Why on earth were they up here again? Oh, that’s right, because Natsu had absolutely no concept of how normal awkward people tended to fall off things and hurt themselves.

“Good – don’t look down, look here.” She felt gentle fingers brush her chin momentarily as he tilted her face upwards and gestured towards his own eyes. “Right here.”

Swallowing nervously, she placed her hand on his bare muscular shoulder, left uncovered by his black singlet top, trying to remain outwardly calm, but internally blushing up a storm. Out here, away from the pressure of the dance studio, it felt different. The warmth of his slightly damp skin under her nervous fingers made her heart ricochet in her chest, and the warmth in his dark green eyes seemed to pull her in... She wondered, not for the first time, if she had been temporarily insane when she had agreed to do this.

Arms locked in the correct position, she grinned up at him as he began moving, and couldn’t help cackling as she lost her balance almost immediately, breaking her dance frame and clutching onto his shoulders. He steadied her, grinning like a Cheshire cat, guiding her forwards until they were almost at the centre of the trunk bridge. He let go of her arms, and then winked at her roguishly, standing with his feet together.

She nodded, placing her own feet together, the base steps of the mambo chanting through her head. “Left forward, together, right backward, together”, she muttered under her breath, arms held out to keep her balance, beginning the steps, her head watching her feet for a moment until she figured out exactly where the edges of the log were. She still felt a little bad about losing her temper with him before in the studio, even though he had kinda deserved it.

She had to remember she wasn’t doing this just for Natsu. She was learning this dance for Lisanna too, taking Lisanna’s place so she could make it to that appointment at the abortion clinic. Her heart still burned at the injustice of it. She knew she was naïve, a doctor’s daughter who had lived a privileged life, but she also understood that it took two people to get a girl pregnant and couldn’t understand how Dan could put a girl he’d been intimate with in that position and not take responsibility for it. Noticing her serious expression, Natsu tapped her lightly on the shoulder.

“Hey, lighten up Luce. We came out here to make this fun, remember?”

She smiled at him, watching as his usual graceful movements became silly as he wiggled his hips, rolling his fists and then doing the monkey. She giggled, doing her best to dance alongside him on the narrow trunk, her heart warming as he steadied her wobbles with his strong hand yet again.

She tried to lose herself in the moment, but she just couldn’t. She needed to know this dance in two days, not only know the steps, but look professional while doing it. She didn’t know if she could pull this off. If she didn’t deliver this could cost Natsu and Lisanna their job; it was her first look at how the real world worked and it wasn’t pretty. Natsu’s voice snapped her out of her reverie.

“You’ve got that look on your face again, you weirdo.”

She sighed. “It’s just… there’s only two days left Natsu”, she said quietly, looking down at her bare feet again. “Two days. I don’t want to let you down. I know how important this is for Lisanna, and I know I’m clumsy and awkward and probably the last person you would ever choose to do this with, and we haven’t even tried doing the lifts yet and it’s… it’s freaking me out.”

Natsu’s gaze softened, and he rubbed her upper arm in a comforting way, making her raise her eyes to his. “That’s not true Luce. I’m sorry if I’ve given you the impression that you’re not good at this. You’re doing really well for someone who hasn’t danced like this before.” He sighed. “Even though Lisanna and I haven’t been a couple since we were in school, I still care about her, ya know? I want to make this right for her, and it’s not somethin’ I can fix by myself.” He swallowed, looking away from her as his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat, a dull flush rising in his tanned cheeks. “I don’t like feelin’… powerless. I’m sorry if I’m puttin’ that pressure onto you. The fact that you’re willing to help us like this, it’s… you’re… amazing.”

A fiery blush tinted Lucy’s cheeks and she squeaked as Natsu took her hands. “Right. We can’t practice the lift here, let’s go back over to that field where I parked the truck.” Lucy nodded, still speechless, carefully following him off the log and back down the slope to the soft grass.

_________________

Lucy stood poised, ready to run at Natsu, wiping her sweaty hands on her white jeans. She was never going to be able to do this! She was gonna fall on her arse, and quite possibly crush Natsu in the process. She forced herself to try and concentrate, listening to Natsu’s last instructions.

“Now, bend your knees, and go up. Go, go.” His arms were held out for her and she ran towards him and jolted to a stop as his hands went to her hips. She heard his grunt as he half raised her in the air, and then lowered her down again. “Good try.”

Lucy shook her head as he backed away to put some space between them, biting her lip. She just knew this wasn’t going to work. Natsu took in her worried expression and smiled encouragingly at her.

“Hey, it’s okay. That was just the first try. But you’ll hurt me if you don’t trust me, all right?”

Lucy breathed out in a big whoosh, but nodded her head, ready to try again.

“Now, go, go. Go.”

She ran again, jumping at the correct time and he lifted her a bit higher, grinning at her. He lowered her back down and backed away again, giving her a longer run up this time.

“Good job, Luce. Now, I’m gonna go up.”

He nodded at her encouragingly and she ran towards him again, feeling his strong fingers digging into her hip bones as he lifted. All of a sudden she felt her centre of gravity change and she instinctively fought it, screeching as she tipped forwards, landing on Natsu’s chest with a thump, as they crashed to the ground, leaving him momentarily winded.

She rolled off him, giggling uncontrollably, her legs flailing, trying to apologise but unable to speak for laughing.

Natsu propped himself up on one elbow and sighed at her, a mock serious expression on his face at the laughter at his expense, but after a moment he couldn’t help breaking into a smile.

“You know, the best place to practice lifts is in the water.”

That stopped Lucy’s giggles. “What do you mean, in the water?” she said, looking at him nervously.

“You’re worried about falling right? You don’t trust me to catch you. Practicing this in the water should take away that fear.”

All of a sudden a very different type of fear hit her in the gut. Her and Natsu, alone in the water. She licked her lips nervously. Her thoughts flicked back to that first night she had met him, when he had beckoned her out onto the dance floor of the party in the staff quarters, all raw masculinity, wrapping her arms around his neck and rolling his hips against hers, showing her a world she’d never known to exist.

She realised she was moving further and further away from her original reason for doing this. It was no longer only to be helpful. Her innate need to see a problem and find a solution, to fight against injustice, was being replaced by a growing hunger to be near Natsu, wanting to feel the heat of his hand on her back as he moved her body around the dance floor, wanting to earn those small words of praise when she did well.

She flopped back against the grass, feeling like her well-ordered world had just been turned upside down. This was getting more than a little out of control. What would happen after the dance at the hotel was over? Where would all these feelings go then? She was pretty sure Natsu considered her a child, not a potential romantic partner. What would happen when her family went home? She could feel her heart cracking a little already.

Natsu dragged her up, pulling her to her feet. “C’mon Luce, I know just where we can go.”

__________________

Natsu pulled off his black singlet and dropped it onto the bank, wading barefoot out into the cool dark water of the lake until he was waist deep. His black jeans dragged on his hips, pulled down by the weight of water. He turned back just in time to see Lucy sliding in, squealing and almost slipping a little as her feet hit the sludge near the edge. She’d taken off her flowy button up shirt and was now only dressed in a white singlet and white jeans. Taking a breath, she held her nose and ducked her head underneath the water.

“Fuck.” Natsu held his breath. When her head had broken through the water when she came up for air, he felt like he’d been punched in the gut. Water dripped down the now darkened blonde hair, falling in rivulets over her shoulders and down into the valley between her breasts, now clearly defined as her drenched singlet clung to her like a second skin. He could see her lace bra through the wet white fabric, her hardened nipples pushing against it. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to mentally erase the image, but it only seemed to make it more ingrained. Probably because every ounce of blood and willpower he possessed was making its way southward.

He’d been fighting this attraction for a while now. He’d only dragged her out onto the dance floor that first night to tease Sting for bringing a guest back to the staff party. He’d thought she was cute and that was as far as it went. But then when she’d agreed to help them, had committed time and effort to help his friend even though she could have just turned her back and returned to the safety of the world she had always known, his esteem had skyrocketed.

She was pretty, sure, but it was her soft heart, her sense of humour, her willingness to work hard and treat him like any other guy she might have met in the rich boy circles her family moved in, even though he was a nothin’ whose skill at dancing was the only thing he had going for him. She was a guest, one of those people with time and money to selfishly spend on themselves, but here she was, sweating alongside him, throwing everything into learning a dance that was gonna save his job and Lisanna’s career. He was so close to breaking that cardinal rule of not falling for guests, in fact he was pretty sure he was careening down the slippery slope with no hope of stopping. This was going to end badly for him if he didn’t nip these feelings in the bud right now.

“Natsu? Are you okay?”

He opened his eyes and forced a grin onto his lips. “Sure thing. You ready?”

She bit her lip, then nodded determinedly.

“Just bend your knees.” His hands moved towards her hips, wanting to linger on her curves of her waist but forcing himself to be all business. “And… go.” He lifted her up into the air as he felt her push upwards, raising her up above his head. “Good, good. Now, hold the position. Hold it. Good. Don’t break! Don’t break!” He felt Lucy’s centre of gravity slip behind him and they both splashed into the dark water, falling down into the chill.

Lucy spluttered back to the surface, laughing and shivering. Natsu reached out his arm, dragging her back to where it wasn’t too deep for her to stand and she clasped both arms around his neck, giggling, her eyes bright with laughter, smiling at him. It suddenly struck him that today was the first time he’d ever seen her laugh like this. He wanted more of it. Her fingers around his shoulder were cool, chilled by the water, but he felt a warmth in his heart that he couldn’t remember feeling for a long time. He helped her stand up, swiping his wet fringe out of his eyes, watching her do the same. He nodded at her, placing his hands back on her hips.

“Let’s do it again. One, two, three…”

He lifted, and she straightened her legs and arms, wobbling a little as she found her balance. “Oh, sorry…”, she murmured, struggling to hold the position.

He squeezed her hips a little as he held her above his head, trying to convey that she was doing well. “Good.” Then she shifted a little too far one way. “Keep… no, don’t…” And they splashed into the water again.

He watched her push up out of the water again, already smiling. Tugging her towards him, listening to her laughter as she hung one arm around his neck, he realised it was already too late for him. He’d fallen for her, wanted nothing more to be part of her life, be by her side. He didn’t know how the fuck that was gonna work, but he was gonna try. He was gonna risk his heart, because she was worth fighting for.

She stood in front of him, grinning, wet hair plastered over her face, singlet and bra falling off one shoulder, teeth chattering slightly in the cold. His hand moved without thinking to slide her shoulder straps back up her arm just as her own hand moved to fix it herself. And then the look she gave him. He realised it wasn’t only his heart on the line, and he was simultaneously elated and terrified.

She smiled softly at him. “One more time, Natsu?”

Reaching out his hand, he tucked a wet chunk of hair behind her ear, feeling her head tilt its weight into his hand. He wanted nothing more than to kiss her, right now, but he didn’t know if he’d be able to stop at just a kiss. They would work this out, somehow. They just needed to get this dance over with first.

“Okay Luce.” He placed his hands on her hips again as she straightened herself, ready to work with him. “Over my head. Go.”

[hlvrai-loving]

Tricks, Treats, And a Falling Out

"Spooky scary skeletons~" Josh softly hums, dabbing a bit of white face paint onto his cheeks. He wouldn't be doing his whole face, of course, but what little he did put would serve as a nice nod to the Batter's monochrome appearance.

"... send shivers down your spiiine~" Then again... monochrome is black, white, and gray, right? There's probably another word for just the two opposing shades...

His phone buzzed on the countertop, a message reminding him to bring water and to be ready in five. Well, what luck it was that he was already dressed, wasn't it? As for water... Josh decided to bring his backpack for any refreshments he'd inevitably end up carrying, starting with a few bottles filled to the brim with cold water.

With most of his costume ready in advance, Joshua placed the cap on his head and checked in on his room, just to ensure he hadn't forgotten anything.

And it was then that his eyes fell on the aluminum bat.

Things... Stakes, you could call them, seemed to be mounting these days. Whatever the hell happened with the eyes and... that man... they wouldn't stop just for the sake of a holiday. He'd kept himself from bringing it to school, of course, but... trick or treating would be different. Even with his friends and Tiff around, he wouldn't be safe... Even if he'd hate to admit it, Joshua knew it'd be better safe than sorry.

And so went the bat into the bag, for later protection.

After that little debate with himself, Josh made his way to the device, explaining to CB and his "friends on the other side" that he'd be unavailable for the night and that he wished for them to take care and keep an eye out. And with that, another buzz of his phone let him know the time had come.

Tossing the bag onto his back, the teen hit the lights and left the room.

Upon opening the front door, he was greeted to the sight of Allen, a jumpy tune coming from his person as the visualizer displayed on his jacket danced. "Yo yo yoooo~! Wassup Dorkman? Ready to purify?" He let out, causing Josh to giggle.

"Yeah yeah, just about. What is going on theeere?" He questioned, referring to the animated clothing. Al grinned, glancing down at it.

"Awe, this ol' thing? Just a little something foster Pops helped me out with. It's connected to the music on my phone and lights up to the beat. Hook in a few speakers here and there and you've got the KING OF DUBSTEP, BUDDY! Heh, same thing's going on with the glasses, but, uh, can't really see shit when it's going off so I'm only turning that on when I really don't need to use my eyes anyways."

"Ghdfff!! What!! You're telling me you just invented a new kind of jacket like it was nothing??"

Al shrugged. ""Invented" is too strong a word for something like this. I'd rather call it "pushing the limits of reality". Much more humble."

J laughed softly. "H-humble my ass, you douche! God damn it, Al."

"Mweh mweh, can we getta move on? The girls are waiting for us a little ways down the road."

"Ey, don't you tell me what to do!"

"Oi, you talking back ta me? Ya givin' me liiip?" The pale teen made sure to pop the "p" as best as he could. Josh couldn't help but smile, shutting and locking the door behind him as he made his way out.

"Wouldn't dream of it, Al."

The night air hung cold, Autumn managing to chill even this town it seemed. As far as Joshua knew, this was the first time he could recall actually shivering upon heading outside. Allen seemed to notice this, lightly hitting his arm.

"Cold cuz you haven't been out in months, ey Joshie?"

"Oh shut it, I'm not cold. Just... It's a bit chillier than I remember."

"Yeah yeah, Mr "I wear a blanket while cruising the space-web"!"

"Shut uuuupp! I do nooot!"

"Do toooo! I saw you when I visited!"

The teen lightly punched his friend's arm right back. "Hush it, would you? Now, where're the girls?" He pondered, resulting in Allen taking him by the wrist and leading him forward as a new song started.

"Riiiight over here, Dorkman."

And sure enough, there they were. Clera was gushing over Tiff's modern take on the stitched together monstrosity, while Tiff was doing her damndest to deny that it was really anything to be impressed over. Upon seeing the boys arrive, Clera quickly made her way over, excited as ever. Her black top and adjoining skirt were riddled with hearts and flowery patterns, which shimmered ever so slightly in the light of the street lamps.

"Joshie!! Hiiii! Your costume looks great!" She chirped out, her contagious enthusiasm causing even Joshua's woes to fade onto his mind's abyss for a little bit longer.

He smiled. "Hahah, it's really nothing. Especially not compared to yours! Did you make it yourself, Cler?"

Her eyes lit up at his kind words, fingers trailing the lace hem of the skirt. "Ehehee! You know it! I sketched it out then I coloured it and me and dad had to go out to get the right fabrics for it, then we went ahead and made it proper! I had to buy the shoes though."

"Wow... How long'd that take you?"

"Around a month!" She giggled.

"Jesus, just a month? Where'd you find the time to make it?" Allen butted in, rather surprised.

She shrugged. "Ooh, but mine's nothing compared to Tiff's!! Give it a looook! Doesn't she look great?" She cheered, the other girl bashfully turning away.

"Cler, mine's not that gooood! Stoooop!" She pleaded, looking away. And, true, it wasn't much. Just a leather jacket, an electric blue shirt, some torn black jeans, and the more "monsterful" additions the studs, makeup, and spray dye gave. It was for the most part the bare minimum one would need to say they were in costume, but... it was still a costume nonetheless.

May as well praise the effort.

"Yeah, hah, she looks amazing, Cler." Josh smiled. Allen, on the other hand...

"Well... It's not exactly creative, is it?" He grinned, earning an annoyed glare from Tiff and an unamused pout from Clera.

"Sooo? She still did her best! I think it looks incredible!" The petite witch told, reassuringly holding her girlfriend's arm.

"Yeah, at least I'm not a walking light show. How was that creative?" Tiff retorted.

"Ey ey, excuse my goddamn French, but did you just diss the drip, Tiffy?"

"That is not "drip"! That's a jacket that lights up! You may as well have gone as a lamp!"

"Oh ho ho! Is that whatcha think?? Well, listen here-"

"Guys!" Joshua interjected. Evidently, it seemed something may have happened between the two beforehand to cause such tension... "Let's just... wh-why don't we just get started, huh? We're, uh, h-here to trick or treat, aren't we? S-so, heh..."

At Tiff's side, Clera uncomfortably shifted. The taller teen let out a sigh. "Fine fine. Might as well... My folks want me to be home at 11, so we're better off not wasting time."

"We won't. I promise you, we'll have more than enough time to get all the candy we could ever need before 11." Josh gave a small smile as Tiff coldly stared down at him.

"Yeah yeah..." She muttered, heading to the house nearest to them with Clera. Before he could follow, Josh pulled Allen aside.

"What was that about?" He asked.

"What'dya mean?"

"Al, don't play dumb with me. Did you and Tiff have a fight or something? You looked like you were both on the verge of throwing hands or something!"

Allen shrugged, clearly uninterested in providing an actual response. "Dunno... Didn't you just say a second ago that we have to start? Shouldn't we join 'em before they hit up too many houses?"

Joshua sighed, figuring Al would just keep denying it if he continued. "Fine, but I'm not dropping the subject."

"Oh, you will." The pale boy reassured, patting Joshua's shoulder as he passed him by. He frowned slightly. Later, he would get to the bottom of this, but for now?... For now, he supposed he had no choice but to follow his friend and truly start their night of candy hunting.

With a quick glance at the emptiness behind him, Joshua made his way forward to their first house of the night.

~~~~~~~

"Never thought I'd see the day." Al smirked, tearing open a chocolate bar. "Figured full-sized treats were but a legend these days!"

"Dude, aren't you supposed to, like, look through those?" Tiff regarded, dismissively running her fingers through her hair.

"Pfft, why? Not like anyone would bother tampering with these." He sneered, messily devouring the entire confection as the girl turned away in disgust.

The group had decided to take a short break, hydrating and taking a short sit on a park bench. They'd amassed quite an impressive stash of sugary goodness, as well as more than a few snide remarks surrounding their age, but the latter wasn't important at the moment.

Instead, Joshua's attention was focused solely on the empty playground ahead, the swings swaying softly in the gentle breeze. Seemed like only yesterday, he was still having fun in a set just like this. He and his friends would play for hours, making up silly games with whatever imaginary rules their minds could come up with. Running around, getting scrapes and bruises and thinking it was the end of the world, as if that was the worst they would ever get hurt...

He sat back against the bench, feeling more tired than ever. Things... were practically unrecognizable now than how they were when he was a kid. The idea of play and fun forever being within his reach had withered into nothing years ago, and the fears he had then couldn't hold a candle to whatever monsters kept him up on particularly stressful nights. It was all surreal... Unfamiliar, yet...

Josh shook his head slightly, he'd worry about all of that when the time came. It always did in the end. Might as well deny that bridge when he inevitably came to it, right?

"Joshie, hey..." Clera lightly nudged him, tearing the boy from his thoughts. He gave her a glance, and she happily showed him a chocolate witch someone placed in her bag. "It's a me!"

Joshua couldn't help but laugh. Once again, Cler unknowingly saves the day. "It sure is. Could do with a lot more hearts though, huh?"

"Ehehe! You know it!" She placed it back into her bag, lightly swinging her legs. "... So, Joshie?"

"Yeah?"

"What do you do all day when you're not at school?"

"... Ah, I..." He began playing with his fingers. "... Just... c-coding, mostly. Nothing m-much else, why?"

"Mmm... We don't get to see you much anymore."

"... R-right, I... I'm real sorry about that, I just-"

"I even had good ideas on what we could do together." She continued, her head down. "Better than the mall and a movie, i-if that's why. I can come up with better ones too if you don't like them."

"... Clera, you... I haven't stopped hanging with you guys because I didn't like it, I'm just... I'm going through a lot right now. Things that I... I can't explain to you correctly. I hardly-"

She cut him off, fidgeting slightly. "Because I wouldn't understand, right?"

He fell silent for a few brief moments, "I... C-Clera, it's more than th-that... I'm... It's a f-family matter... You know, p-personal. I haven't told a-anyone."

The girl remained unresponsive for a few moments, staring down at her feet. Then, she only answered with a quiet "Oh."

"... Hey, we... we've still got a few more houses to go before 11. Why don't we get back to it, huh?" He forced a gentle smile. "Maybe someone will give you more chocowitches..."

Clera gazed up at him with sad eyes, but nodded regardless, picking up her candy bag, standing from her seat, and brushing off her skirt. Josh went ahead and informed the other two that they were ready to head off once more.

And unseen from a nearby rooftop, a skeleton sang out a few notes of blue as it watched them leave.

[ask-mrradiodemon]

Valentine's Day ~ A Radiodust Story

A/N: This story is largely based on the canon of my RP blog, which I'm posting this on now, and the things that have developed here over time, rather than actual character canon. Having said that, each individual should be in character, and I hope you're all able to enjoy nonetheless. Cheers, everyone

Ao3 Link (since SOME people found it early-)

TW: Brief mentions of alcohol and believing love is unrequited

Baking and cooking are often time consuming activities that can take a toll on anyone's health. Doing so for twelve hours straight three days in a row only makes matters worse, and would cause any normal person to pass out. Of course, the radio demon was far from being a normal person, rarely ever needing sleep. But without a moment's rest, exhaustion was bound to take over at some point. Alastor nearly failed to arrive to the venue on time.

But not quite.

The room in question was something that had previously been old and abandoned; a ballroom in the back of the hotel, complete with a stage up front and a floor made for dancing. It took Niffty nearly a full day to clean up the cobwebs, dust, and creatures that had made it their home, but with the light shining in that space by the end, it was more than worth it. The empty room wasn't enough, though, of course. Decorations had to be put around as well, and with Alastor busy with the food preparations, that task was assigned to none other than...

"Charlie, you've done splendid! Absolutely marvelous!" It was more than a relief when she heard that her decorations were up to Alastor's standards. During the hour of him inspecting each individual piece, only a few tweaks were made. Moving a banner two inches to the left, tightening the knot that held a balloon to the ground, going so far as to change the color of the tablecloth where the food was meant to be placed. Charlie hadn't been nearly as busy lately, but she still worked hard as hell on that. With her work in place and finished, Alastor dismissed her to go get ready for the evening's events.

"So are you gonna fuckin' tell me why you're doing this to begin with?"

Ah, the telltale voice of a drunk man. Not that Alastor was surprised, of course. Without hesitation, he simply made his way over to the barman's table, upon which laid a dozen different drink types. Coffee, hot chocolate, lemonade (pink and regular), tea, juice, and even the soda Alastor had hazardously taken from the upper world's. Under the table, just barely hidden by the cloth, was a large bottle of fine wine: Husk's motivation to be here.

"Well I believe I've said it before, my dear! I've never celebrated an event such as this, and a dance is the perfect method to encourage camaraderie and building relationships among staff!"

Husk was not the least bit impressed. "Right, so that's your canned response you've been givin' to everyone for the past two weeks. In case you don't remember, I've known you longer than these assholes, and you're not like that. So spill."

Alastor didn't respond immediately to the… Question? It was more like an order. Either he had to think of a convincing enough lie, or tell the truth. And since the latter was not an option, and Husk had already broken through several of the excuses Alastor had given, there weren't many options left.

"If you're just gonna give me more bullshit, then don't even bother saying anything." Ding.

"Very well then! I won't! Make sure you're on time this evening, six o' clock sharp!" With that, Alastor simply walked away, with Husk facepalming in the background.

Only ten in the morning! There's so much left to prepare! Hot chocolate couldn't be made more than an hour early, and many of the foods had to be fresh and warm to ensure they were at top quality. At least the cookies, cake, and appetizers had been finished the night before; things would be slightly easier today.

--------

Alastor was never grateful to have an extra pair of hands assisting him. Or, well… three pairs.

"So? You got it figured out yet?" While Arakniss worked on following the recipes that had been laid out for him, Alastor was gathering ingredients for the ones yet to come. Many of which, he promptly dropped after hearing that question. That gave Niss a much needed chuckle; no matter how many times they talked about this, it never failed to send Alastor short circuiting.

“Yes, well… I believe so? Things have been… Written out, and… Well the decorations are gorgeous, you should see them!”

Niss only rolled his eyes at the nervous deflection. “You’re gonna do fine, dance lessons will come in handy soon. Be dancin’ with my fratello before the night’s over, easy.”

Somehow, the thought of that wasn’t as comforting as it should have been. For that to happen, Alastor would actually have to go through with his confession, and Angel would have to actually accept it. Even with that low likelihood, if it managed to happen, Alastor’s online lessons in tango may not have been near enough to actually perform it well. In front of everyone else that was invited.

"There's a very good chance I could step on his feet. Hooves are a bit more rough than normal shoes."

Niss gave a half laugh, half scoff at that. "Look, you're gonna do just fine. I know it pretty decent, you need some last minute practice?"

Alastor glanced up to the clock. Three hours left, and most things only took a few minutes to prepare…

"That would be quite nice."

--------

So far, things had run smoothly. Husk wasn't offering anyone alcohol, Niffty was cleaning up the little spills and crumbs, and the dessert table was quite the success. Almost all the savory and sweet things had been eaten, with Angel seeming to take a particular favor to the strawberry cookies. Though, if Alastor had been honest, he wasn't paying much attention to everyone else. With Angel's plus one being Cherri, they'd had enough fun with all the energetic songs to make time fly past. Alastor had tried choosing the playlist for the evening, but Vaggie took over that quickly once she saw the old things he was choosing.

Thirty minutes left until everyone's curfew. Thirty minutes left until the end of the event. And Alastor hadn't said a single word to anyone besides Husk, about refilling the drinks when things ran low, and Charlie, assuring her he was keeping an eye out for any damages while she enjoyed the night with her girlfriend.

It was now. Or it was never. Alastor gave a gesture to some stranger that had been volunteered to run the music, and it was cut off as the radio demon made his way onto the center of the small stage.

"I hope you're all having an enjoyable time here. I simply wish to say a few words, a toast, if you will, without the drinks. To our honorable staff members, that worked hard to make this event what it was." Only Charlie was the one aware that was bullshit, that Alastor had planned everything out himself and only allowed the others to help if absolutely necessary. He'd done a very good job of hiding the bags under his eyes, she noticed.

“As you all know, I have given many speeches throughout both life and death. Though many have been broadcast, many a time has it been an intimate gathering among those I… used to consider my friends. As one might predict, never in those speeches have I been at a loss for words or needing to plan things out. Until of course… Now. Perhaps it is because you are no longer strangers, and yet you are far from friends either.”

“I told you we couldn’t trust him.” As quiet as Vaggie’s words were, Alastor’s ears picked them up easily. His smile faltered for only a second, unnoticeable to anyone besides his newfound friend Arakniss, standing in the doorway out of sight.

“You see, in the many months since I joined this staff, I have grown to consider you all as…”

...of course. Alastor knew this was going to happen. Each time he tried to show any kind of gratitude, his throat closed up and he was unable to say the dreaded, emotional words. At least, this time, he had prepared.

“Family.”

To say that everyone was shocked, not only at the appearance of Alastor’s shadow clone standing proud next to him, but at the words it said, would be a terrible understatement.

“It is no secret to most of you that I have… unusual levels of difficulty expressing certain emotions, whereas my “friends” here have no trouble at all.” The last part of that phrase was said with slight menace, though not towards any of the members of the hotel; he was quick to learn how his shadows had been finishing his thoughts recently, filling everyone in on the feelings he would rather have kept hidden. There was a reason most of them, all except Al’s own, were banned from the event.

“As such, I am placing my trust in my other half,” accented with a bow while Alastor gestured towards it, “to help me today, and to ensure my meaning is not changed due to my own inability to speak my mind. Beginning with Charlie…”

As soon as the name was spoken, the shadow was no longer by his side, now standing in front of Charlie with a smile. Naturally, Vaggie reached for her concealed knife, but the shadow simply reached out a hand to take Charlie’s own, placing a small kiss on the top of it.

“When I first arrived here, I did not hesitate to let you know exactly what I thought of this idea of yours. Though I still do not believe the end to your means is possible, you have still managed great success, in your own way. Just look around!” Alastor twirled in a circle, using his microphone to gesture to the crowd in front of him. “More and more people are smiling like they never have before! Whether your ultimate goal ends in complete failure, or minor success…”

Silence. And then another gesture with his microphone, this time to the shadow, who spoke in his characteristic deeper, distorted version of the radio demon’s own voice.

“Your kind heart has made a great influence on many people. Hell is lucky to have someone such as yourself to be next in line for power.”

Ignoring the shocked expression on each face, the shadow moved on before anyone was able to comment on the uncharacteristic compliment, stepping to stand in front of Vaggie and perform the same gesture. Or at least, attempting to do so before she pulled her hand away. In response, the shadow simply crossed its hands behind its back.

"My dear, I'm well aware that I have done very little in an attempt to impress you, or not rebut the many tales you've heard of my name. In truth, I'm gar more used to having enemies than friends. If anything, you had the most expected reaction!" With that came a chorus of laughter, all background noises created by Alastor himself. Surprisingly, she didn't consider this situation funny.

"But, regardless of your views on me, allow me to share my opinion of you. Rather abrasive, tough, and perhaps too defensive." Vaggie looked as though she was ready to run upstage and punch him, only held back by Charlie's hand on her arm. "Yet undoubtedly, you are strong-willed and protective. Indeed, an admirable quality, one that I self proclaim to share." A quick bow and gesture of the microphone, a humble gesture though it contradicted the previous phrase. "It is for this reason that I greatly… respect and admire you.  Perhaps one day, I can earn your favor, as you have mine."

The shadow moved with obvious intention past Angel Dust, but if anyone in the crowd noticed, they didn't comment. Rather, it made its way straight to the bar, quickly summoning a bottle of fine wine rather than attempting any sort of contact.

"Husk! My old friend! I trust that you've warmed up to me more since your arrival, my part in recent events having /nothing/ to do with that, I'm sure."

The resulting middle finger gave Alastor all the hint he needed; keep it short, the relationship was Arakniss wasn't public knowledge yet. "But regardless of that, or the intoxicating reasons you've chosen to say, you've done each individual here- a great service by staying, and we are lucky to have you."

The shadow didn't need to approach Niffty; she had been following it around since the beginning, and now its eyes were on her.

"My darling, you're quite the hard worker at this establishment. Enjoy it or not, you've likely done more work in a day than I ever have as co-owner! Though your job isn't what I'd like to mention." If anything, she was more confused than anyone else. "You're rather invasive, you like to listen in on my private conversations, and you are very persistent in matters that are, frankly, none of your business.” Niffty looked almost heartbroken. “However, in doing so, you are never critical or judgemental. Rather, you are kind, encouraging, understanding. For each of these reasons combined, you are the obnoxious, lovable little sister I never had.” The shadow dissipated as she tried to hug the incorporeal being, but a hand ruffled her hair to reduce the disappointment regardless.

“As for the final member of our staff-” The shadow quietly approached Angel before Al held out a hand to stop it. “We will speak another time.” The quiet whispers in certain patches showed that he wasn’t the only one who knew precisely what that phrase meant, but of course the shadow couldn’t simply leave things up to fate. Rather, he told a hold of angel’s face once the crowd’s attention was redirected, whispering “mon cher” in his ear, so quietly no one but Angel could hear. He may not have spoken a word of french, but with the odd seductive tone, he at least hoped he could figure out the meaning.

“But, enough of the sappy things. It’s a wonderful night! Célébrer, my friends, celebrate!”

Angel was quick to run as the peaceful buzz started and anyone could ask questions, as was Arakniss, but to stop Alastor from collapsing as soon as he was out of sight. His knees buckled and Niss was the only thing stopping him from hitting the floor.

“...what have I just done?”

Arakniss didn't have a fast enough answer before Angel came in through the back door, looking unusually pissed off. "Al, what the fuck was that about!?" Immediately, Alastor stood up and pushed away the guiding arm that was intended to steady him.

"I- My apologies, but-"

"You're really gonna go and say nice shit to everyone but me? And make it fuckin' obvious? Geez, if you really hated me that bad you shoulda just said so." Angel had a lot more to say, but with Niss standing behind Alastor motioned for him to shut the fuck up, he kept quiet for only a second.

"I… did not wish to… say certain things in front of the staff, is all."

"Well go on and spit it out then, I'm listening-"

"This is quite difficult enough without your argument, if you would please allow me to speak."

Something about the sincerity, and unusual level of fear, in Alastor's voice made Angel fall silent as Arakniss excused himself out the back door. A quick memory came of the phrase the shadow had said to him, though it didn't last long once it showed up again, taking Angel's hand as it had Charlie's.

"You're very… irritating. You're overly lewd, and brash, and there's many things about you that spark my wrath easier than anything." Alastor couldn't get any further than that, and an awkward silence followed. Angel staring with a mix of anger and confusion, while Alastor felt his face growing brighter red with each passing second. They had a script to follow. Just like the ones he had written for everyone else. Yet he couldn't remember a single word of it. Part of him just wanted to run, allow Angel to finish enjoying his night, and never speak of this moment again. Part of him also knew he'd never forgive himself if he did that.

"You're enchanting." No going back now. His shadow had full control, and all Alastor could do was stand there and watch. "I can't express how much I care for you. My eyes have been on you since the first day we met. Your eyes, your voice, your personality… All beautiful. I'd give you the world should you ask for it. I've been enamoured with you since the day we met, and I'd be honored if I could call you mine."

There was silence for about a minute, and no one moved. Angel held an unreadable expression, and Alastor's heart broke when he eventually pulled the hand away. Here comes the rejection he knew would happen. At least now, he could be able to move on.

"Look, Al… you're… really amazing, like… Holy shit, I…" Angel laughed and shook his head, pushing back his hair with one hand. "If I had any kinda common sense I'd shove ya against the wall now and kiss ya, but…" He nervously glanced at the shadow, and Alastor's heart rose into his throat as he realized what might need to be done.

"It's… Weird. Not havin' you say it. I mean it's you, but… Not really. And it's kinda hard to believe it's real if I'm not hearing it from you."

Alastor wasn't sure what exactly Angel expected him to do. But what he actually did was nod silently as his smile began to fade, and walk out the door, leaving the distraught shadow behind with a shocked expression.

"Don't look at me like that! It's fuckin weird, like if my brother had just gone and told him all the stuff I think about him. You can't blame me for that!" It didn't respond, fading out into the darkness. Angel didn't have much choice but to head out back to the party, where the final song was playing. A tango. Hand-picked, for the dance that Alastor had spent over a month learning, not that Angel would ever learn that now.

For the first time, Alastor allowed himself to cry in front of someone else as soon as he met Arakniss outside.

He cared. He really did. Angel cared for him.

But that meant nothing if Alastor couldn't learn to say the words out loud for himself. Such a bittersweet feeling. Besides the occasional choked sobs, not a sound left his mouth. If he couldn't learn to say the words, all his work will have been for nothing. Somehow, knowing that was worse than if he had just been turned down.

It had been over two weeks since Alastor had attempted to sleep, and four days since he had any rest at all. Too busy.

"When you allow your heart to lead you, it drives you off a cliff."

[whumpster-fire]

Whumpmas In July - Day 12 (Belated): “Do it.”

CONTENT WARNING: Female whumpee, minor whumpee - and I don’t mean “can get a driver’s license but not vote.” Character is 18 days old at the time of this incident, and mentally a child. Read at your own risk.

The Animator’s voice was low and calm – irritatingly calm. His brown eyes stared down through his glasses with barely a spark of anger. “If you ever – and I mean ever – pull a stunt like that again, you’ll be disposed of. The Resistance needs weapons, not liabilities.”

Wendy Weasel, Human Resistance Toon Weaponization Program Number 15, scowled up at him, flattening her ears partway and baring her pointed teeth. “What, you givin’ me this goddamn lecture now? Couldn’t you have done it...” she glanced around, looking for a clock. When she didn’t find one, she made a watch appear on her wrist, then remembered she didn’t know exactly when the event she was referring to was anyway. “...Yesterday morning? Or were you scared Herschel was gonna turn that hammer on you too if you interrupted him?” She wasn’t scared of Lowell. He was one of the two Animators, and de facto leaders, of the Human Resistance, but he wasn’t the one who’d drawn her. He didn’t have the guts to create something like her.

Lowell’s brow furrowed, stretching the skin on his shaved-bald head. “I know you’re trying to turn Herschel and me against each other, Number Fifteen, and it’s not going to work. I’m not going to be baited into badmouthing my colleague and closest friend to a toon. Herschel has a short temper, but his actions were warranted given yours. The only thing I have to question is whether he went far enough.”

The man was so composed and non-threatening it was boring. He was almost three times Wendy’s height, of course, but she doubted he’d ever been in a fight in his life, unless you counted getting shoved into a locker. And size was nearly meaningless against a Toon. Mental and emotional strength was what counted. Any human was helpless against her physically, but she couldn’t exactly take a mallet to her superiors or she was as good as dead. What she could do was mess with their heads, and Lowell seemed to think if he showed the emotional range of a bowl of wet sawdust she’d have nothing to use against him. “Besides,” he went on, “I don’t think you were in any state to hear me then.”

“Exactly,” Wendy said with a smirk. “Would’a been better for everyone that way. I wouldn’t have to listen to you, and you could pretend you were the one making an impression.” But her gloved hands clenched. Yeah, like she needed to be reminded that Herschel’d beaten her into a bloody pulp, which it wasn’t supposed to even be possible to do to a toon. But the Resistance had invented a special plastic that completely suppressed her reality warping abilities, and a fluid that didn’t dissolve toons’ flesh like Dip did, but it made it break and yield and not bounce back… like a human’s. She rubbed her wrist where the cuffs had dug in, and her chin where he’d broken her jaw. The damage was gone now, of course, now that her powers were back, but it was still sore. Her throat hurt too, from Herschel forcing the damn stuff down it and then her puking it back up along with half the ink in her body and maybe a couple internal organs. It was almost impossible to permanently injure a toon, but the problem was, the line between thoughts and reality was so blurred for them that the memory of pain could be almost as bad as the real thing – sometimes could even make an injury reappear, or take way longer to heal, if you couldn’t get it out of your head. Lowell bringing it up again was a dick move. He was really pissing her off now. She wanted to kill someone – or something. Not like she was allowed to kill humans anyway. Even enemies of the Resistance she’d need a direct order to harm. And other toons, the creatures she was made to kill, were in the ‘something’ category. Like her.

But there was tension in Lowell’s face too. Good. Prick. Like she needed a repeat of the same fucking lecture, except not even entertaining.

“Fifteen...”

“Ooops! Was that last bit out loud?” Wendy’s voice was still hoarse and scratchy. It had barely been an hour since she’d finally been let out of the cuffs and the straitjacket and muzzle.

Lowell sighed and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Apparently you do,” he said through gritted teeth. “Although you’re right, I doubt it will sink in anyway, which is why I’m in agreement with Gene and Lawrence that you should have just been Dipped. And you should know, I’ve discussed it with Herschel, and he’s only resistant to the idea because -”

“Because I’m the daughter he never had?” Wendy interrupted.

“No. If you’re trying to shock me, forget it. I’ve known about Herschel trying to create a Toon as a surrogate child for years – his story was part of what opened my eyes about Toons. I’ll admit when he created you and Number Six with such… childlike forms, I was worried he still had some sentimental tendencies, but even if he did I doubt they survived contact with you.”

Wendy’s smirk got bigger. It had taken all of five sentences to get him ‘badmouthing’ Herschel. Although he hadn’t exactly said anything juicy.

“Listen. The reason you’re still alive is because Herschel’s afraid. He’s afraid of you, he’s afraid of another feedback event like the one when you were created, and he’s always been a bit overly cautious. But remember this: you represent about a week’s work for either of us – maybe two. You aren’t irreplaceable, and you aren’t invincible. I’m not afraid of you, and I’m not afraid of getting rid of you. Six, Eleven, and Eighteen can all fulfill your role for a few days, and once Herschel’s and my next creations are animated, there’s nothing stopping us from -”

“Blah, blah, yadda, yadda.” Wendy feigned a yawn. “Come up with some new material, and then get somebody else to threaten me with it, ‘cuz your delivery’s a lost cause. And so’s your animation talent. You think Eleven can replace me? The moron I got to deep fry himself when I was just drawn? Ya know, calling me replaceable’s really the pot calling the kettle black when all your toons are good for is making Dip soup.” Her smirk grew to a vicious grin as Lowell’s face finally contorted in anger. He made a grab for her. She nimbly stepped back, waited for him to blink, and reappeared behind him. “And so’s calling Herschel too cautious. At least he’s not some spineless dickweed who can’t draw up any toon with the balls to reach down and scratch ‘em without asking permission first, because he was terrified of Elmer Fudd as a child and now he relives his boyhood nightmare every time he looks in the mirror. Face it Lowell, you’re the replaceable one around here, not me! If Herschel died tomorrow the Resistance’d be fucked. If you died tomorrow, they’d just have to put up a classified ad for some animation college dropout – ack!”

Oh, she was dead. That had felt good to say, but he was soooo dead. She’d been letting him get a little closer with each lunge, reveling in how angry she’d gotten him, reveling in how she’d completely ruined his calm demeanor, reveling at the fact that whoever checked the security cameras was going to get a good ab workout laughing at Lowell’s expense. But she’d dropped her guard a little too much, and he’d moved faster than she’d expected. He seized her by the throat and slammed her against the concrete wall. It wouldn’t have even been enough to get her adrenaline pumping if it wasn’t still sore. And even so… why was having her ability to breathe cut off like this making her pulse jump like crazy, and not in a fun way?

“Fifteen, I swear… I swear to God… I’ve spent ten years of my life dreaming of wiping your species off the fucking Earth, but I’ve never wanted to kill a Toon as much as I do right now...” His glasses were askew. His eyes were mad, the pupils unevenly sized. An occupational hazard. Bringing a toon to life was kind of like sticking your head in a microwave. Everyone in the profession had some kind of brain damage, Herschel had said. Some just hid it better than others. “I want to melt that smile right off your fucking face...”

“Go ahead then. Do it.” Wendy pried his hand away just enough to get the words out. “If you want me dead that bad, then kill me.” Yeah, right. She knew he was bluffing. Oh, the Resistance’s leadership weren’t happy that she hadn’t technically 100% done exactly what she was supposed to, and the mission hadn’t technically been successful, but they also knew she’d mopped the floor with Acme Looniversity’s star pupils, and Riley – Number Six – had barely made it out of a one-on-one fight alive. That kind of power was too valuable to throw away, not when they didn’t know if the Animators could replicate it.

But suddenly, that power vanished. Wendy felt the horrible cold feeling of one of the plastic cuffs snapping shut around her neck. Tight. Too tight. Suddenly everything was weak. She couldn’t pull her head free, or even squash and stretch her neck so she could breathe freely, or create a crowbar out of Hammerspace to break the lock. She’d felt this awful, helpless feeling once, and she’d sworn she never would again. But she hadn’t even made it a couple hours.

“Uhh… just… just kidding, Lowell...” Wendy gulped. The calm was back, icy and satisfied, as he dragged her down the hall towards the elevator. “Hey, I got legs! Put me down, you fucking -” She kicked and clawed at the cuff. It felt like a truck was parked on her windpipe.

The elevator rose one level. Level Four. It didn’t necessarily mean anything. Dip wasn’t the only thing the Resistance made there: there were also weapons, spare parts for the ACME Machine, and other equipment they couldn’t exactly buy at a hardware store. But when Lowell had two other guys blindfold her, and tie her hands behind her back, she knew.

He was going to kill her. He was actually going to kill her. The harsh chemical smell of Dip, the one substance that was lethal to her kind, burned her nose and sent icy veins of instinctive panic coursing through her body.

“Morning, Lowell,” an older man with a rural midwestern accident said. “What’ve you got there?”

“A discipline problem,” said Lowell. Wendy could hear his scowl. Then, he hastily added: “Oh – good morning to you too, Bill!”

“Fuckin’ dweeb,” Wendy muttered under her breath. Not like they could hear her over the ventilation fans anyway.

“What’re you bringing it up here for, then?” Bill – one of the Resistance’s chemists – asked in an irritated voice. “I’ve told you guys I don’t agree with you letting your little Frankenstein’s Monsters run around this place, but – well, living quarters are one thing, this is another. I gotta remind you, even if your plan’s a total success you still need Dip to finish a toon off, and there’s a lotta fragile equipment on this line.”

“Actually, I was wondering if I could borrow a bucket.”

“Aaahhh...” Bill whistled. “Ah, that kind of discipline problem. About time if you ask me. I’ve been sayin’ you oughta melt that thing down before it kills someone.”

Wendy’s fists clenched. She glared daggers through the blindfold in the direction of his voice. A hundred comebacks and insults ran through her head, and it took all her willpower to bite her tongue. But right now, the anger was being blotted out by an emotion she’d hardly ever felt in her life. True fear. Her whole body felt weak, like her bones might dissolve and she’d melt into a puddle even before they finished her off. She heard Lowell saying something to Bill that she couldn’t make out over the hum of the fans and the pounding of her own heart. She felt sick to her stomach – although that could’ve been just the smell of Dip. She wanted to be anywhere but here – to vanish and reappear somewhere else in the underground complex. She wanted to pull a hacksaw out of Hammerspace to get rid of the cuff choking her, or failing that just blast it to pieces even if it meant setting off enough explosives to level a city block in her own face. Hell, she wanted to make Bill try it on for size on his fat fucking neck. The result would probably be like putting a bunch of rubber bands around a watermelon, but if they were going to kill her anyway, did it really matter if she got a parting shot?

But she was completely helpless in this goddamn thing. No teleportation, no hammerspace, no playing tricks on the humans’ minds. She should have had the strength to whip the two men’s legs out from under them and take them apart like Tinker Toys, but instead she was almost as weak as a creature her size should have been if it obeyed normal laws of physics.

A boot caught her under her ribs, hard enough to lift her off her feet and throw her across the room. It knocked the breath out of her, but it didn’t really hurt much. Even with the cuff cartoon physics still applied if something else hit her. But it did hurt that the blow had come out of nowhere. She’d been completely unable to see it, avoid it, or even brace herself.

She tried to run when she heard the bucket being filled – the sloshing of liquid, the squeaking and clanking of the handle. The smell was almost overpowering. But something tripped her, and she was dragged back by her tail and thrown against a concrete wall. That gave her an idea. She thrashed against it, dragging her temples along the rough cement to try to pull the blindfold free, but it didn’t budge.

“Come on, guys, you know I was joking, right? Right?” she fidgeted nervously, waiting for the fatal blow. “You’re almost as good an animator as Herschel, and I’m really sorry I said you were scared of Elmer Fudd. And Bill, I’m sorry I stole all your socket wrenches and replaced them with left-handed ones.” Metal scraped against cement. The bucket was being lifted. Wendy’s blood froze. She froze, pressing herself back against the wall. “Fuck! Don’t kill me, don’t kill me, don’t kill -”

She was cut off by the shock of cold liquid hitting her. She instinctively closed her mouth and ducked her head as best she could trying to protect her nose and eyes, but she knew it didn’t matter. She knew what Dip did to toons. A direct hit like this would dissolve her alive within seconds. Every muscle tensed, and she didn’t dare breathe as she tried to brace herself for what would surely be indescribable agony. A flood of panicked emotions  melted her brain from the inside out. She was dead she was dead she was dead!

Only… she wasn’t. The pain never came. There was a little numbness, but it was just from the cold. Her fur was soaked to the skin, but it wasn’t melting her, just freezing her.

There was a howl of laughter. The blindfold was ripped away, and she stood there blinking and shivering in the fluorescent lights. A clear puddle was running down to a drain in the floor. Bill stood there holding an empty bucket, but there was a second one sitting nearby, full of caustic green liquid. That son of a bitch. It was water. Ordinary fucking water, but they’d even been smart enough to fill one with real Dip so the smell would fool her. He’d tricked her. He’d tricked her!

“Hoo! Man, did ya see the look on her fuckin’ face? I still think you should’ve dipped her for real, but damn, bet those couple weeks of life flashed before her eyes, huh? That oughta straighten ‘er out!”

Lowell smiled and gave a soft chuckle. “Don’t be fooled. They imitate human facial expressions and body language, but they’re no different from -”

“HAL 9000, like that scene in the movie where he’s telling Dave not to unplug him?”

“Exactly. Toons have a basic self-preservation instinct, but it’s not the same as human fear. We were unsure about whether to eliminate it from our creations, but they wouldn’t be nearly as effective in combat without it. And there are only two ways to motivate and discipline a creature with no capacity for empathy or morality: blind, programmed obedience, and fear. The first on its own would, again, make them too susceptible to mental manipulation.”

Wendy couldn’t make herself say a word as the animator knelt and reached out for her throat with a magnetic key. She was afraid her voice would break. Her breath was already catching in her throat in a way the pressure on her windpipe couldn’t cause, and silent tears mixed with the cold water dripping down her face. She couldn’t stop shivering. She hated cold. She hated it. She was so goddamn sick of how the compound was always at fifty-five degrees or something – maybe warmer in here with the heat given off by machinery and chemicals, but still always uncomfortably chilly.

Click. The cuff opened. The instant the cuff was released from her neck, Wendy snapped the zipties binding her wrists. She winced and rubbed her throat, and wrung out her soaked gloves. She fought the urge to shake herself dry; she’d probably get punished for that, too.

“Get the message, Number Fifteen?” Lowell said icily. “The next time, it won’t be water.”

Wendy nodded, and swallowed hard. Painfully. “Yeah. Whatever. There’s not gonna be a next time.” There was a concerned look. “Because I won’t screw up again.”

“This isn’t about your actions. This is about the attitude that lead to them.”

“I know.” Bullshit. What did he want her to do, bow before him and polish his shoes? He’d said it himself, the whole reason she was made was to have a toon in the Resistance’s arsenal that wasn’t a sniveling toady, that was completely devoted to her purpose and sure of herself enough to carry out her mission even if the humans that were supposed to be commanding her got killed, or worse – that was smart enough to disobey if her superiors fell under the enemy’s power. And that was exactly what she’d done – minus getting carried away a little bit. If Lowell had a problem with her attitude he could take it up with Herschel, not her.

But she couldn’t say any of it. That confidence had just evaporated. All that was left was ice-cold fear and burning anger and hatred that met in a deadly explosion. “Sir.” Goddamnit, why couldn’t she stop shaking? She spat the word out and glowered up at him. She clenched her fists, and a little smoke rose from her gloves. “I...” Fuck it. “I’ll be good.”

She snatched the empty bucket out of his hands and darted off around the corner. The moment she was out of sight, she folded space around her and her next step took her into the small concrete cell that passed for her quarters.

“Son of a bitch,” she snarled. A lit stick of dynamite under the upturned bucket shredded it like tinfoil in a blender, but that didn’t satisfy her. She wanted to kill something. She wanted to wring the neck of the next toon she saw and shove its face into a barrel of Dip herself. She wanted to die, but not enough to actually do it. The next words were just a whisper. “I didn’t even do anything that time.”

Just like she predicted, Wendy’s voice broke. It was freezing in the cell, and the water made it worse, but she didn’t have the mental energy to create something that would dry her off properly. She just pulled a threadbare towel from behind her back and wrapped it around herself, and shrank back into the corner, shuddering. Almost died. She’d almost died. For nothing. Just because she wouldn’t stop running her mouth. Just for behaving exactly how she’d been drawn to.

She knew she’d have a chance to release this anger, sooner or later. Being blown into a thousand pieces wouldn’t let her next target escape. It didn’t matter if they were toon or human, they were gonna die screaming. But the pain, the humiliation, the unfairness, ran too deep for the anger to burn them away. And she didn’t know what to do with them.

Faked emotions. Imitated expressions, basic instincts. The least Herschel could’ve done was made her not fool herself into believing her own lies. This was why she was glad she wasn’t human, even if it meant she was inferior, just a monster made to kill other monsters. She didn’t want to know what the real thing was like.

____

My first ever Tumblr prompt response fiction, yay! Meet Wendy Weasel, from my Who Framed Roger Rabbit (setting, characters are mostly from Animaniacs, Tiny Toon Adventures, and Looney Tunes) fanfic La Resistance. Basically she’s a Toon who was created by a genocidal terrorist group that wants to wipe Toons out, and for all intents and purposes a child soldier. When she’s not making life hell for the protagonists, she’s pissing off her own side as much as possible because she’s bored / wants attention. She’s way too cocky and aggressive for her own good.

This is the epitome of what I said in another post about liking whumpees who are dangerous to the whumpers. Power-suppressing cuffs and Dip not withstanding, there’s nothing but psychological conditioning between Lowell or anyone else in the Resistance and a shoebox funeral if Wendy turns on them, and they both know it. The problem is neither of them actually understands the true nature of that conditioning.

[candidcanine]

Chances and Cherry Blossoms

My lone entry for 2doc week, for Day 6- Birthday (and for Day 5- Vacation, I’m too lazy to create separate entries so I fused them, shhhhh). Happy birthday to Murdoc, my favorite pickle man!

Fic Summary:

Murdoc gets lost in Kyoto with 2D. It isn’t the worst birthday he’s ever had, but it’s certainly shaping up to be his most interesting.

Not gonna lie, this is just a poor excuse to write tooth-rotting fluff about these two going on a (not so) romantic date in Japan. Sue me.

“Alright, so if we take a left turn at this corner, we should see a bus stop. Then we hafta board the bus going… clockwise, which is the number 34 one. It’ll take us to a street which should be a twelve minute walk away from the temple entrance… Maybe.”

“Maybe?” Murdoc echoes, crossing his arms as he watches 2D wrestle with an extremely rumpled map. “You’re not sure? Can you at least check the map on your mobile instead of using that rubbish? It’s the 21st century, Stuart, ever heard of GPS?”

“I’m saving the battery, I forgot to charge it yesterday. It’s for emergency calls.”

“Call Noodle.”

“No.”

“Then for the love of all things unholy, please tell me we’re going the right way.”

“It’s hard navigating in a foreign country,” 2D says defensively, his eyes firmly glued on the map. His strides lengthen as they near their supposed destination. If Murdoc wasn’t so exhausted, he would’ve found 2D’s misplaced determination to be downright hilarious. “We’re not lost, I promise.”

“Really? Because you keep saying that, and I end up getting disappointed every time,” Murdoc pants, struggling to match the other’s strides. Eventually he gives up and leans against a telephone pole, trying to soothe the burn in his aching muscles and lungs. He watches in amusement as 2D’s lithe form speeds away without him.

“Slow down, Stu, not everyone has the same freakishly long legs as you. I feel like I’m taking two steps for each one of yours.” 2D looks up when he hears Murdoc’s complaint, jogging back with an apologetic grin when he sees Murdoc had stopped walking. They continue at a slower pace.

“Sorry, I just got a little excited. I think I found the street, we just need to go left and we’ll be at… the bus stop…”

When they round the corner, they find no buses nor bus stops. Instead of seeing a busy street filled with hordes of people, they were greeted with a dead end road lined with small houses, shops, and convenience stores. There were barely any signs of life, save for a stray kitten splashing around in a rain puddle and a group of kids chatting and playing video games. One of them looks up and stares at Murdoc and 2D, unsure of why foreigners were in their little neighborhood.

“Erm…”

“…Well? Where’s it at?”

“It’s supposed to be right here.” 2D scratches his head in confusion. He consults his map and points out a clearly-labelled bus stop for Murdoc. “Maybe we’re at the wrong place? What street is this? Muds, can you check if there’s a sign—”

“There is one. But I can’t read it,” Murdoc says flatly, jerking his thumb at the unreadable characters on the sign. “It’s in Japanese. Y'know, because we’re in Japan?”

“What? They always have English signs ‘round the touristy places—”

“D'you see any tourists around?”

2D huffs, clearly displeased with how unhelpful he was being. He stalks away from Murdoc, his gaze flitting around as if he’d see a hint in the area that pointed to the right direction if he looked hard enough. When he approaches the children, the whole group dispersed like a flock of pigeons encountering a cat. Murdoc bites back a laugh when 2D returns with the most petulant look etched on his face.

“Those kids are so mean, I just wanted to ask for directions. Maybe they got scared off by my looks?”

“Stu, the chances of them even speaking a lick of English are next to nil. Of course they can't— or won't— help. Just admit it, you can’t read directions to save your life. Give me the map so we actually have a chance to get to wherever the hell it is we’re going.”

“No!” 2D clutches the map to his chest like a lifeline. “I can read a map, just give me some time—”

“We’ve already wasted hours of my precious time today because of you. I have to draw the line somewhere, 2D. I don’t appreciate being led around blindly like a dog on a leash. Let me take a look at it.”

“I told you, I want our itinerary to be a surprise. It’s more fun that way—”

“Oh, some fun we’re having, right? Spending over an hour in a cramped train from Osaka to Kyoto instead of taking a bloody cab, taking the wrong trains and buses and having to double back when we miss our stops, eating watery ramen at a dodgy noodle shop 'cause we couldn’t find somewhere better to eat…”

“At least we got to Araishiyama, and we got to see that bamboo grove,” 2D protests weakly. “It was pretty.”

“It’s pretty, I’d give you that. But there’s only so much you can do at a sodding bamboo grove, Stuart. We spent all of five minutes in that forest before you got bored and told me you wanted to leave.”

“Well, I thought you were bored, so I wanted to move on to somethin’ more interesting…”

“…Where did you even get the idea to go all the way to Kyoto without Noodle? Hasn’t it occurred to you what a terrible idea this was?”

“Well, err—”

“We’ve never been to Kyoto before,” Murdoc continues. “So how the everliving fuck did you expect to get around with your sense of direction? It would’ve been better if we went sightseeing with her. Maybe you should’ve scrapped this whole trip altogether. Think about it. We could be back in Osaka with Noodle, roaming Dotonbori and having a pint or two, or eating grilled crab legs—”

“I’m a vegetarian—”

“But no, we had to go at it alone, and spend the better half of a day running around Kyoto like headless chickens. I think I’ve seen enough of Japan’s railways and bus stations to last an entire lifetime.”

2D’s face falls with every word that came out of Murdoc’s mouth.“I’m– I’m sorry, Murdoc, I really am. I think I was too focused on givin’ you the best birthday to think about specifics. Maybe… maybe we should’ve just stayed in Osaka with Noodle. You’re right, let’s head back.”

2D’s voice quivered as he spoke. By the time Murdoc had realized his mistake, it was too late. 2D silently walks back the way they came from, looking almost like a chastised puppy.

Don’t be a grade A twat. You’ve changed, remember? he tells himself, following after 2D. He winds an arm around the other’s waist and pulls him close in an attempt to mitigate the damage he had done.

“Wait, Stu, I didn’t mean it like that. I know you worked hard on this day trip, and I appreciate it, I really do. It’s just… you didn’t really have to go through all that effort for my birthday, y'know? There’s loads of things to do in Osaka.”

“I know, I know, 2D says, but the look of dejection on his face doesn’t disappear. "I guess… I just wanted to impress you, just a tiny bit. I wanted to give you a better birthday than last year.”

“What d'you mean?” Murdoc asks, confused. “I spent my last birthday in sodding prison. The bar isn’t set that high. We could’ve spent this entire day watching paint dry and it’ll still be better than the hell I went through last year.”

2D winces at Murdoc’s blunt honesty. “I mean, I wanted to make up for last year. I know I didn’t even greet you on your birthday—”

“No cards, or letters, or anything, while you an’ the rest were off having the time of your lives without me—” Murdoc adds unhelpfully. He couldn’t help it, he still felt a bit betrayed.

“I’m sorry, Muds, I was still really angry at you then. I won’t ever ignore you like that again,” he assures. “It’s the whole reason why I wanted to make up for it. I mean, I practically jumped at the chance when Noodle told me she wanted to go back to Japan to visit a friend. We haven’t been outside Tokyo yet, and we haven’t had a vacation in ages. It seemed like the perfect way to spend a birthday.

"But I didn’t like the idea of spending all our time with other people. I wanted us to have some… alone time.” 2D’s face flames. “So I started planning a little side trip, just for us.”

“Wait… are you saying this trip was all just some elaborate ploy to get me away from Noodle and her friend?” Murdoc wonders aloud, smirking at 2D. “Wanted me all to yourself, didn’t you?”

“Maybe,” 2D confirms with a bashful smile. “It’s been a while since it was just the two of us out in public. I wanted to spend the whole day with you. I planned it down to the second, but it didn’t really pan out, did it?”

“No, it didn’t,” Murdoc chuckles. “Well, you didn’t have to get us stranded in a foreign country if you wanted to spend a day with me. I’m sure if you asked Noodle, she would’ve let us explore Osaka by ourselves. No need to go all the way to Kyoto.” 2D makes a noise at the back of his throat, turning his head away and mumbling an inaudible reply to Murdoc.

“What?”

2D repeats it reluctantly. “I said, I wanted to go to Kyoto… because I read somewhere that the scenery here was better. They have prettier gardens and pavilions and temples here, and rows of cherry blossom trees too, it’s beautiful…” his voice trails off when he sees Murdoc’s grin.

After a beat of silence, Murdoc erupts into fits of laughter. “Oh, you sap. You romantic. You cheesy—I see what this is. Pffft— Let me guess what you wanted to do. Did you want to hold hands while exploring the temples like newlyweds? Frolic in the pavilion gardens and smell all the flowers? Take each other’s pictures while we kiss under a cherry blossom tree?” Murdoc guffaws when 2D’s face turns red again.

“Did you want to ride one of those two-seater carriages we saw back in that bamboo grove?”

“Muds,” 2D says, hiding his face behind his hand.

“How about hanging one of those charms in a shrine? You know, one for luck, good health, love—”

“Muds.”

“Or maybe pick sakura petals out of each other’s hair, like we’re in one of those goddamn cartoons. What’s it called again? An anime? But it’s not even the right season for—”

“MUDS!”

Murdoc laughs and pulls him in a tight embrace, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Sorry, I’m just playing with you, D. I didn’t know you’d be so sentimental.”

2D frowns. “Stop making fun of me. I know it’s cheesy, but I just wanted the both of us to have a good time, alright? Those were all on the lists of couple-y things to do in Kyoto when I searched it up.”

Murdoc snorts, deciding not to comment when 2D shoots him a glare. “Didn’t say I didn’t like it, bluebird. I just never expected it from you. Sure I’d love to do all those things with you.”

“Yeah, I would’ve, too,” 2D says bitterly, growing more and more despondent. “But then I got screwed over by Japanese public transport, and now it’s like past five in the afternoon and we haven’t done anything. This is probably your worst— err, second worst— birthday ever.”

2D falls silent again, his eyes downcast. Murdoc sighs when the silence stretches on for far too long.

“Stuart, look at me.”

When 2D meets his gaze with inquisitive eyes, Murdoc takes the chance to press his lips against the other in a kiss so tender and feather-light that they both barely feel it at first.

It held no heat, was a spur-of-the-moment decision by Murdoc, and was over as quickly as it had begun, but it seemed to do the trick in comforting 2D. The other man, who had frozen when Murdoc had kissed him, soon melts like putty. When they finally draw away from each other, 2D blinks at him dazedly as if he was still under a spell.

“Bluebird, any day I get to spend with you is great. Whatever I’m doing on my birthday— whether it’s staying at home, getting plastered at a bar, or yes, getting lost in Kyoto for hours on end, it’s better with you there. No, it’s bloody fantastic. So it's not the worst birthday I’ve had, not by a long shot. In fact, today might just be in my top five.”

2D’s lips quirk into a smile. “Top five?”

“Okay, might just be exaggerating a lil’ bit. Top ten for sure. And besides—” Murdoc hooks an arm around 2D’s waist again and leans against the other man. “—It’s nice to get away from the tourist traps sometimes, don’t you think? It’s quiet here.”

“Yeah, it is.” 2D smiles more fully, his arm slinking around Murdoc to rest at the small of his back. “So… I guess we don’t need to follow the rest of the itinerary then? Since you’d rather be in our hotel room in Osaka and we’ve spent enough time in Kyoto? D'you want to go back?”

“Thought you’d never ask. Yes, I want to go back. If we hurry, we might be able to catch up with Noodle.”

They continue walking in amicable silence, taking in the unfamiliar scenery that they hadn’t been able to enjoy in their mad dash to the bus stop. The train station that they had left behind creeps into view, the hustle and bustle of tourists and locals alike growing louder. When they reach the steps of the station, 2D suddenly pauses as if he remembered something.

“Just one problem,” 2D says after a moment.

“What is it?”

“Well, I don’t really have any way of getting home from this stop. Err—I didn’t think we’d quit halfway through our trip, so I don’t know if there’s a shortcut from here.” 2D looks at him with a sheepish grin. “Should we just double back again?”

“Oh, for chrissake. Would you just swallow your pride for once and fucking call Noodle already?”

2D only nods in embarrassment, fishing out his phone and scrolling through his contact list.

It would be ten minutes before Noodle picks up, twenty five minutes before 2D and Murdoc figure out Noodle’s instructions, a full hour and a half (and several attempts) before they get it right and board the train to Osaka, and three hours before they finally arrive at the correct station and walk back to their hotel.

By the time they reach their room, Murdoc’s too exhausted to do much else other than drink all the beer in their minifridge and snog an equally drunk 2D, passing out cold on top of him after a long day of accomplishing next to nothing.

It was a happy birthday, indeed.

[youseissi]

𝚂𝚞𝚒𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚂𝚚𝚞𝚊𝚍 현실판에

Chapter 2 - Tell Me Who You Who Am I

Word Count: 9110

Chapter 1 ✧ Chapter 2 ✧ Chapter 3 ✧ Chapter 4 ✧ Chapter 5 ✧ Chapter 6 ✧ Chapter 7 ✧ Chapter 8 ✧ TBC ✧ AO3 ✧ Masterlist

Everything had settled into a peaceful routine that went on totally undisturbed for barely over three months since they started living together. That is until they got caught up in it again.

On a night like any other, Yunho had just hit the button to look for a match on the game he was currently hooked on at the time. He usually had a few nights per week for himself and he spent it doing just that, playing games to forget how tired college actually made him and everyone else in the whole building.

The pop up to accept the found match appeared the same time as his phone started ringing besides him on the bed, it was Hongjoong calling. He picked it up immediately bringing it to his ear, but he only heard the sound of the other hanging up on him. Weird. The screen lighted up on his hand showing a new text notification out of many many he had missed before, apparently his roommate had been blowing up his phone for a while.

He hit cancel on the game’s dialogue box that counted down incessantly still waiting for him.

8 p.m

joongie

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

dude anser me

its serious

finally

look i need you to come save me

8:01 p.m

you

wym

8:01 p.m

joongie

i don’t have much time to explain

cardinal at the mall

the one next to the museum we went last week

i tried running but this kid got lost

she said she lost her parents

was crying

i couldn’t leave her

now we’re hiding on the second floor

cuz everything is happening t the first floor

if i move she cries

very loudly

you gotta come help us idk what to do

if you come thru the stairs from the parking lot i think no one will see you

the cops aren’t here yet

please

8:01 p.m

you

got it

omw now

don’t move

8:01 p.m

joongie

couldn’t even if i wanted to

we’re not in a good spot

too close to the ledge

but i can see the stairs from here

joongie is now sharing his location

The way there felt like hours, when in reality it didn’t take more than ten minutes since the location was so close that he could run there by foot. Around the mall a commotion was starting to form with a few police cars and media vans setting up camp, but thankfully the place wasn’t sealed up yet as Yunho managed to sneaky in through a back entrance into the garage floor.

It was unsettling, for the first time in a while the fear creeping up around him was no one else’s but his own while walking around the empty the floor. Going through the door and up the stairs, that were clearly never used beyond emergency situations, only made him feel worse. The unnatural light and silence filled the all white space giving it a bad atmosphere.

Once he finally made to the second floor doorway he understood what Hongjoong meant by bad spot. The floor they were in cut off in a circular shape above the downstairs entrance hall with a small glass ledge to give a clear view of what each side had to offer. It didn’t work in their favor as the exit in which he stood was between storefronts making the only path besides the edge.

Yunho risked taking a peek beyond his hiding spot behind the shielding door. Downstairs

people stood filling the hall spaced out like an army formation waiting for orders, The Cardinal was easy to spot, dressed in a wine red velvet suit and sitting on a chair from a nail kiosk placed in front of his temporary minions. He looked inattentive scrolling through his phone. The other guy wasn’t anywhere in sight. Not good, Yunho thought.

In comparison to the missing invisible man, Hongjoong was easy to spot which was an even worse sign. If the villain downstairs did not continue with his back turned, he would be noticed right away. The small man hid away behind a plant pot, a small silhouette behind him barely visible as well, Yunho assumed that was the little girl he was trying to protect. They also were stuck in front of a sealed wall between storefronts.

Objectively thinking Yunho was there only to make sure they weren’t controlled, he couldn’t do much else protection wise. Would be so convenient if he just could teleport them out, but all they could do was rush to sneak away before that tall guy appeared. They couldn’t waste time. The other met his eyes and gave a nod with worry shaping his face.

Yunho tried rushing quietly towards one of the hallways by his side, which wasn’t easy with his huge body having to crouch while also trying to stay the farthest away from the exposing ledge as possible. Nonetheless he made it, not wasting time to stand straight and run further in, trailing through the maze of halls to make a covered path back to the other side in which his friend was waiting at.

The distance was short, but not simple as an obstacle appeared when he took a sharp turn and almost bumped into the until now missing sidekick. He cursed under his breath as he went back pressing himself against a wall close to the corner. He took a peek yet again waiting to see what direction the big guy went, but the man only continued to roam around for a while. As if he was looking for something. Again.

He turned his back and Yunho took the chance to take off towards the next hallway, expecting to circumvent him, but of course the phone in his pocket fell right at that moment. He stopped in his tracks practically as an instinct to try and save it, his shoes screeching against the floor so close from being out of a sight.

“Hey!” he heard a deep voice call out although he didn’t stop to get even more confirmation  that he was now being chased. He ran at full speed not minding the noise he made anymore, trying to make distance between him and the loud footsteps that seemed to keep getting closer. Finally, he made it full circle and reached the edge again now close to his target.

He stopped where the hallways and the balcony met looking behind him for the first time. The tall man just now turned the corner  with some distance between them that didn’t give him much time to reach Hongjoong and back.

“Run, go go go!” Yunho yelled at the his friend that was watching his disheveled arrival with alarmed eyes. It took the other only a small moment to register it, grab the kid and sprint forward, impressing Yunho a bit with his quick reflexes. The small girl cried loudly in his arms and he could be seen clearly from downstairs, but after how loud Yunho yelled their stealth mission had already been considered a fail anyways.

The man chasing him now already less than two meters away was ready to catch them, and Yunho didn’t really wanna wait to see whatever he was going to do with him when he did, so he lunged forward trying to push the other back enough to make an opening for himself to run as well. Unexpectedly he got grabbed and got himself pulled forward towards him.

Yunho clearly wasn’t a fighter, his long limbs more of a deterrent than a vantage in trying to get himself loose from his grasp. His opponent however had some experience and it wasn’t long till Yunho was being immobilised with his arms behind his back on the floor, the other holding him down.

He proud himself in at least putting up what he considered enough of a fight. That is until he looked up to see Hongjoong still standing there looking torn, lowering the kid down. Yunho cursed his idiot friend for not leaving him behind when he cleared told him to run, like this he would be caught for nothing.

The small man looked ready to get involved and start off the fight all over again but the tiny girl hugged into his leg yelling and weeping then, the big guy on top of Yunho focusing on her as well. For a second the world stopped, none of them knowing how to make their next move when a voice behind them robbed all of their attentions yet again.

"What do we have here?" asked The Cardinal himself now standing a few feet away watching the ordeal. His voice was pleasing to the ear, his head tilted slightly in curiosity and eyes almost gentle beneath the mask. If everything about him didn't impose a impression of superiority, or arrogance as the two civilians perceived it as, then you could almost believe he had good intentions as he eyed the child clinging to Hongjoong's leg.

Everyone was frozen in place as if paralysed by the sudden intrusion. Even the kid stopped her cries, the villain now going towards her.

"Don't move." He told the kid's current protector that started to protest.

"What's your name?" He asked crouching in front of the little girl that promptly bursted into tears as a response.

"Don't cry." He ordered her and she stopped, easy as that. "You have to calm down and be strong now, okay?" He continued in a less authoritarian tone, cooing over the girl like a parent.

"What's your name?" the villain tried, but the girl didn't speak.

"Answer me." Yunho could hear his impatience growing through his more commanding tone. His mind raced as he waited for the right moment, when his assailant was distracted just enough for him to move again.

"Haseul" the little girl let out, her voice a bit hoarse from crying so much.

"That's a pretty name. Is this your brother?" The villain's tone was now back to being soft at the child's forced compliance.

"No." The kid answered and the mask covering the villain's face moved as he furrowed his brows.

"Did you come here with him?" He tried a different route than just guessing their relation to one another.

"No."

"Who did you come here with?" the villain started a interrogation now, going back and forth with the little girl, trying to figure out what to do with her.

"With Mama."

"Do you know where she is?" he continued to ask softly.

"No"

"Okay." The villain let out a sigh at that. "Do you know where the toy store is downstairs? The one right by the entrance?"

"Yes"

"You're gonna take that elevator, press the button number 1, walk straight ahead to the toy store and sit down on the couch by the playpen, okay? Do you understand me?" the command back in his tone, he tried giving clear instructions that even a child could get.

"Yes."

"You'll forget you saw me and forget that this happen. I'll send your mom to find you soon, be a good girl and take a little nap while you wait. Now go." He finished and the girl went on towards the elevator, not crying anymore as the villain watched over her till she was already inside and the elevator moving.

"Now, first problem solved. What's next?" The Cardinal said turning towards them again. " I guess you were here trying to help that kid." He said slowly his indicator hitting Hongjoong chest.

"And you." Yunho thought he was now talking to him, but his eyes went past his. "Why am I seeing you right now?" He enunciated slowly again tilting his head.

"Uh…" the guy practically straddling Yunho didn't seem to have a answer ready for that so the villain moved on.

He put both his hands on either sides of Hongjoong's face, cupping his cheeks and looking into his eyes as he starts his orders for the shorter man.

"Go downstairs, stand by the other people and wait for my next order. Understood?" He always spoke in a steady slow tone, coating every word with what Yunho could feel as his power manifesting.

While The Cardinal's power didn't affect him personally, it still reach and manifested all around him and it felt almost like what he would experience as an emotion. It left his mouth with an unpleasant feeling as if he had taken a spoonful of honey, thick and hard to swallow, a faint taste of wine made him feel light and his head felt full of cotton. His perception slowed down as if he was underwater for the few seconds the sound was resonating in the air, although he wasn’t really bound by any real weight he didn't trust himself to be sharp or precise with his moves while hearing it.

Hongjoong didn't answer immediately, his shoulders trembling slightly. He was seething with anger and Yunho imagined that at that moment he must’ve been trying his best to resist the enchantment. The people that were being controlled didn't give off any emotion, their auras a dull weak grey and Yunho could only assume that meant they were fully numb during the influence.

He had to do something fast before his friend went away, what would happen to Yunho when they realise he can't take his orders? Was his acting skill good enough to pretend he did? The fact that the big guy wasn't invisible already messed up his credibility. His thoughts raced as he tried to think of a way out of this situation.

"Answer me. Do you understand?" The villain's tone was harsher and more commanding this time, even more heavily coated with power.

It was almost pitiful seeing his friend's fingers curl up into fists as he tried his best to oppose his orders. Yunho knew how awfully the feeling of being controlled affected the other, the helplessness of the past incidents already developed in the form of a trauma in his mind.

He felt the pressure over him give in just slightly, his opponent either tired or distracted, and that was enough for him to push his weight up,not wasting any time in trying to spring towards his friend.

It wasn't even funny how he immediately got pushed down again only being able to free one arm that he stretched out pathetically as if he could reach the other. If only he got a bit further. But he couldn't, he was too far away. Tears formed in his eyes out of frustration, feeling the helplessness himself now.

The Cardinal didn't even flinch at his sudden outburst, still focused on Hongjoong.

"Yes, I understand." Yunho whimpered at how low and weak Hongjoong's voice sounded as he answered, feeling like he just got punched in the stomach.

He came here to save Hongjoong and if only he hadn't screwed up they wouldn't be going through this. If only he could touch Hongjoong for just a second. If only his outstretched arm could reach him. If only his power wasn't bound to him, he would gladly give it to Hongjoong that would use it for so much better.

As tears overflowed and his desperation only rose, he trashed under the weight of the villain's sidekick focusing on these ifs and his own power. He could feel his power surging in his hand, something Yunho had never noticed before. It coursed through his body, running up his arm until it reached and accumulated in his fingertips, his digitals feeling hot almost burning.

If only it could go beyond himself and reach Hongjoong.

But the short man's back already started to distance himself from his blurred vision, taking his first steps away from the whole ordeal.

"Second problem solved." The Cardinal now had his attention to the teary Yunho on the floor and he could only feel embarrassed at himself being seen in such a state.

His piercing eyes held curiosity as he inspect his prisoner's face in silence.

"Now what do I do with you?" The villain mused out loud. "So many questions, so little time." He held a hand to his own cheek deep in thought, gaze still focused on his prey.

Suddenly The Cardinal fell backwards, pulled with force by the back of his shirt’s collar and not being able to regain his balance. His companion reflexively moved to help forgetting about the trapped boy beneath him. Yunho took his chance again to push him away with his own weight again, this time a pair of hands helping him by pulling their opponent as he pushed.

Free from their grasps, Yunho now ran forward taking several moments to process that it was Hongjoong that opened this breach, the other running by his side. They made their escape before the villainous duo could recover and chase after them.

✧

The next few days Yunho mused over the happenings that lead to their escape. Hongjoong felt a miracle woke him up, sure that his willpower to resist had already completely ran out by then. Yunho tried focusing on his power often trying to replicate that surge he felt.

He always thought of his own power as a passive skill. He didn't need to do anything to activate it, it was always on. Now that he knew how it felt he tried to really feel it as an entity rather than just a concept. It was like breathing or blinking, imperceptible unless you put thought into it.

It flowed through him warmly giving him the impression of what it would be like to feel your own blood circulation. He concentrated it in his hand and, without the stress and threats around him, he could feel it dissipating outwards as if heat was coming off of him.

Although he never wanted this power, he not once thought about turning it off. Now he tried to do exactly that and meditate the power to stop and flow out of his system with his mind. It worked while he kept his eyes closed, the constant invading silhouettes of colorful lights not appearing in the dark of his eyelids like before. It was short lived ending as soon as he opened his eyes.

The moments of peace would be welcome as he went through crowds or heated arguments in class if not so fleeting. He sighed, unable to escape the overwhelming amount of feelings surrounding him constantly.

As time continues to fly by, he practices it without a certain objective, just the flow of it. One day The Cardinal appears on TV and his sidekick is clearly plastered across the whole frame. It sparks an idea in his head.

Hongjoong jumps from the couch turn to him.

"It's him! It's that invisible guy! Is he not hiding anymore? Why aren't they talking about him?" He exclaimed as he walked to Yunho's side at his desk.

Yunho was focusing his power to flow towards Hongjoong. This time he could feel a thread of energy connecting them, unlike the sloppy burst of power that was all over the place last time he tried using it on him.

"Ah!" The taller boy was about to tell him about his findings when he felt the ring in his hand break apart and fall down.

"Oh, he became invisible again." His friend commented in confusion as he bent down to pick up the remaining of his busted ring.

The ring was lowkey important to him which kinda sucked, but he was more curious about why it broke unprompted. The pieces felt powdery and fragile in his fingers and he smashed the rest without much effort.

Had his power done that? Had it gone through the ring? Perhaps this was proof that it indeed took a physical form. Could he maybe capture it?

If it was energy similar to heat he was out of luck on something permanent, but it was a start. Yunho looked at the tv still showing his opponent from last week and he turn to Hongjoong that now stared at him worried.

"Hey, do you have a ring that you can lend me?"

"That would fit on your fingers? Probably not." He answered, mock on his tone.

"No, just get me a ring that you don't like that much. I wanna try something real quick." He insisted rolling his eyes.

As expected of his fashionable roommate, Hongjoong grabbed from a drawer a transparent box full of rings separated into tiny slots and brought out a few he wasn't too fond off.

Yunho grabbed one that looked more cheap and held it with a closed fist while trying to imagine the energy concentrating into it. A few moments passed before he let it go, not really knowing what to expect or when to stop.

"Put it on." He said while handing the ring back to the shorter boy.

"Why? What did you do?" He looked skeptical, but was already positioning the ring on his finger as he spoke.

Yunho immediately knew it worked because from the moment the other touched the ring he couldn't see his aura anymore. There was no dancing lights surrounding him, no worry or confusion or pent up stress or any other emotion filling up the air that Yunho breathed and weighted down on his shoulders. Only his own. That were ecstatic right now.

"Why are you smiling like this? You're start to creep me out a little." The older asked with caution, confused.

"Joongie, look at the tv."

"That guy again! Wha- ah, is it the ring?" Yunho nodded at him, a smile on his face. "Yunho that's amazing! Now we're safe, The Cardinal can't control us anymore!" His roommate exclaimed with a smile on his face and Yunho felt fond of the way he said ‘we’ even though Yunho already couldn’t be controlled.

As he said those words, he grabbed onto Yunho's shoulder in excitement and the ring fell with the sudden movement. A quick look confirmed it was broken, it's texture weak and crumbling without much pressure.

"I'm pretty sure that ring was pretty sturdy before you touched it. You kinda own me a new ring now." He pointed out, his excitement dwindling a bit. "But you can just do it again, right?"

"That's why I told you to get one you didn't really like. I can do it again, but I'm afraid it'll just end up in the same way. It might still take a while to perfect it, but I already have a few ideas on what to do next to improve it." Yunho said, mind racing with the possibilities of it. Now he wouldn’t have anymore risk of getting caught up in this incidents involving the villain and neither would Hongjoong. That made him feel tons lighter, even more thinking about the break he would get from his friend’s overwhelming feelings.

"That's great already." Hongjoong continued with a mischievous look. "With that we can finally stick it to that arrogant prick."

"I mean, it would be nice if we just never saw him in person again. Even if the ring was unbreakable it wouldn't protect you from getting beat up, you know." He interjected, frowning at the other eagerness to affront The Cardinal.

"Yeah, I guess so." He quiet down after that, deep in thought and Yunho again wished he could turn his power off on his own, guessing what the other was thinking by his feeling.

He wanted to protect Hongjoong, but now he worried he might be opening him a path into even more trouble.

✧

The next few days, Yunho waited. Some of his classes were soon gonna move to the lab for more practical classes and an excuse to enter the labs was exactly what he needed. Until then he could just focus on his normal life and deflect Hongjoong’s nagging.

The older one now used a few accessories Yunho had “enchanted” as he called it. Yunho didn’t particularly felt that was the right word for what he was doing, but he still couldn’t describe it better. Metal seemed to work best, so maybe it could be considered forging.

That had also given some better perspective on the items lifetime, when Hongjoong used it out of his view it lasted with no problems whereas around him everything wore off quickly. It probably had to do with actively repealing Yunho’s power which wasn’t a good sign if it was supposed to be used against the villains that seemed to have way more aggressive powers than him.

As much as his roommate wanted to be protected, he was clearly getting tired of losing his accessories to his experiments. Yet Yunho pushed him to keep using them around him, summing up some lames excuses to just have a break from feeling way too intense emotions that weren’t his.

Yunho made that much effort to live alone before for a reason. Feeling everyone else’s feelings twenty four seven was exhausting and Hongjoong in special was a constant rollercoaster of emotion. The other just always felt so intensely all the time, it didn’t give him a break.

Usually the power holder could identify two or three types of people when it came to this. The most common were the people that lived mildly just going step by step, emotion by emotion not bothering him much.

Then there were people that were moved by reacting, feelings constantly activated and affected by their surroundings, living bound by their own perception of others. He could tell this type easily by how often he’d feel worry and relief from them, the clear anxiety keeping him on edge, but overall they were easy to get used to and he knew how to deal with them well, showering them with validation gave him great payback.

And then there was the type of people like Hongjoong that were just actively feeling all the time, regardless of anything else and laced with confidence in his own self. He just had a fire in him that didn’t dwell down, opinionated and vocal about everything he was involved in.

And Yunho felt that fire, he felt Hongjoong’s usual distraught at the news and his excitement while he worked on reforming clothes to his style and his huge satisfaction when his intuition was right and how inquiet he got when him or one of their friends was going through a down phase that had nothing to do with him and the boy couldn’t help.

It was just so strong and it never stopped.

Yunho mused that the other was someone to look up to with the way he lived to the fullest even when they were just college students getting beat up by student life. A great motivator, you could just look at him and feel inspired which was great, but sometimes Yunho felt invaded.

As if everyone’s feeling was being pushed onto him so much that he couldn’t notice his own anymore. And he knew that sooner or later that’d explode on him if he wasn’t careful. He had learned the hard way that his feelings had to be tended to, as a kid it was hard to distinguish what were his emotions and what wasn’t when he was still not self aware.

Life is a pursuit of happiness, yet no one could feel happy all the time, right? But young Yunho had started to believe he could, if everyone around him was happy he could feel happy too even if he himself wasn’t. It wasn’t long till he grew up compressing his real feelings, pushing them away for better ones. Even if his weren’t half bad, so so was not enough when he could just feel pure joy from someone else.

The drop when he couldn’t brighten the mood around him would affect him more than it should. Being alone felt empty and numb. It took a long depressing time and a feel heartbreaking situations to understand what was wrong and he still couldn’t handle serious situations well.

Now having Hongjoong not filling up the room with his emotional presence he could breath and take a second to just feel in peace with himself.

✧

It was still one of those waiting days that Yunho saw his suspected lifelong nemesis again. He wasn’t expecting it at all and the thought of the situation still made him feel unsafe at his own living space as one day he opened the door to their room coming back from class and just saw the gigantic silhouette going out the window.

He might’ve thought it was an animal had the room given to them not been in the fifth floor. Looking at the direction it had come from, in Yunho’s bed laid an phone on top of his messy covers. Not any phone, his phone. The one he dropped around a week ago.

A single notification popped up as he turned on the screen, a message from an unknown number.

12:30 pm

unknown

Stay away from the cardinal or there will be consequences.

12:45 pm

you

don’t worry i don’t wanna anything to do with all this

12:46 pm

unknown

Good. We’ll be watching you so don’t even think about trying anything funny

The thought that they knew who he was and that now he was under surveillance was frightening, specially the fact that the guy had been there inside his room. Yunho didn’t really know how to react to that. At hindsight he should’ve told Hongjoong, it was also his room after all, however he didn’t wanna give the other even more reason to feel personally attacked by the villains.

He couldn’t get it out of his mind the rest of the day though, as the initial shock faded his own curiosity rose up. He didn’t want anything to do with it, but now that he had a contact to text, why not, he guessed.

14:57 pm

you

so you’re the invisible dude right

The typing indicator came up a few times, but after an hour Yunho wasn’t expecting an answer anymore.

17:33 pm

unknown

I gave you a warning, seriously it won’t end well for you Yunho.

Don’t contact me again

Okay, not really up for talking I guess… After that he dropped it, slightly creeped out from seeing the other calling him by name.

He didn’t want to be involved, but he was still curious about the invisible guy’s origin, because realistically it would be too much of a coincidence for him to be his brief childhood friend. Nonetheless, the thought persisted on his mind that there could be a chance that it was the same person he knew of and it had him intrigued beyond his usual caution.

Maybe it was his guilt conscience that had his interest peaked. He didn't like to dwell on his regrets, but his initial reaction of running away from that kid years ago was something he wished he hadn't done. At least not so lastingly, after all their powers may have been different, but their overall situation wasn't so much.

If anything Yunho might’ve been the privileged one for the first time in his life, for having such easy to hide powers. Both were scared to show their true selves and be rejected for being different, but Yunho could just pretend it wasn’t his case while the other most probably could not.

Powers like theirs didn’t come with an instruction manual, even now at twenty years of age he kept finding out new aspects to it still. To him the potential now felt unlimited as he learned more and more exciting things he could do with it, to control it, but that was a perspective of his adult self.

As a child they had no control over it, powers were like an involuntary act like blinking or breathing and the kid just didn’t know it was abnormal or ‘wrong’. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like growing up invisible, how the other must’ve struggled at being thrown into the world not even understanding his own self and already having to deal with the consequences of it.

And to top it all off, the only person that could see him shunned him away the moment they noticed he was like that. Yunho felt like trash thinking about it.

✧

Finally the lab days arrived, and Yunho had so much planned out already. At first he cursed having those chemistry classes, he was coursing a computer engineering degree and he didn’t think it was particularly useful to get the same generalised class as all other engineering courses, specially when he just wanted to write some code or explore game design.

It did pay off now tho, giving him enough insight to know what he was looking for and what to do with it. Sneaking in with his access code later on in the day, he swiftly took up a spot in front of a microscope and rushed to take out his research material out of his backpack, not wanting to stay there not even a moment more than necessary.

Switching two pieces of the same ring under the lenses, he analysed the difference closely. Yunho had been hoping he could identify what his power did to make them break so easily, and if he was lucky signs that his power had any physical form.

And lucky indeed he was, it seemed his power made the material structure more spaced out with little invisible to the eye grainy crystals forming in between any microscopical free space they found.

He tries forcing more of his power into it and that explained why things would become porous and dissolved like sand, with this tiny shards expanding into it until they overcame the original material.

That meant he could definitely make something more sturdy with better material. He’d have to study a lot of atomic structure and boring stuff like that and it made him groan at the thought of it but he was willing for the pay off.

Suddenly the door opened with a loud thud, interrupting his thoughts and almost giving him a heart attack.

“Hey, found anything useful?” The fashion major said making his way to Yunho without much discretion.

“Ah… you know, it’s rude to come in without knocking” Yunho ignored his question still grasping his chest and trying to recover from the jumpscare. His roommate laughed at the exaggerated reaction, stopping to sit down next to him. “I understand how this works better now, so soon I’ll make something durable and stop breaking your accessories.”

“That’s great, I was running out already. Care to explain what am I looking at?” Hongjoong asked a bit sarcastically as he leaned into his space to look at the microscope himself.

“Do you see those little clear dots? It’s probably my power, it grows till it takes too much space and makes the ring break.” The taller said towering over the other’s back to look too.

“I see” Hongjoong hummed. He sat back and watched Yunho gather the things he brought over back into his backpack. “So, I was thinking…”

By the other’s aura Yunho already knew whatever it was, it was trouble. The yellow hesitance swayed in his vision with sprinkles of orange and red fierce tones, fitting of Hongjoong’s ever so warm visual presence.

“I was thinking, if you can make it last, couldn’t you make something to stop The Cardinal as well? Maybe sprinkle some of those crystals on handcuffs or something? I know you said it was hard to approach him, but that was when I couldn’t see the other guy. And I’m not thaaat defenceless I’m sure I can put up a good fight if I can see my opponent.” Hongjoong went on, continuing to list reasons to convince Yunho that they could win with his power.

The younger was appalled at Hongjoong eagerness to take on both of the villains like this, but he’d be lying if he said that his curiosity wasn’t peaked at making a device that could stop The Cardinal’s power.

With his power taking physical form it was indeed possible, even if temporary. If he could make a device that rendered the other powerless for just a while…

Developing something like that presented itself as a puzzle way too stimulating for Yunho’s mind, already scheming what would it take to make it for real, what approach he should take that would be the most effective and he had to grip the table and stop himself for a moment before he fell into that rabbit hole.

“I just hate it, even if I get to be immune to his power I don’t think I can stand by as everyone else is dragged into it. Yunho, please you’ve got to help me. I understand the risk I’d be taking, I’m not dumb. Just give me something to fight with and I swear I won’t bother you about it again.” Hongjoong pleaded, and Yunho hated the feeling overwhelming him, pure, desperate and selfless.

“I think this will be a mistake, but if my best friend asks me like this how can I say no.” Yunho answered with a sigh giving in and Hongjoong smiled widely practically bouncing off his seat to hug the younger.

“ But ,” Yunho continued holding up a finger before the other got too excited. ”I really don’t want anything to do with this past this part. You can go play batman, but I refuse to be your Robin, okay? Consider me James, I’ll try and see if I can give you some equipment that works against them. After that you’re on your own, I refuse to go get my butt kicked with you.”

“And who said I’m getting my butt kicked?” Hongjoong retorted with a pout, but the corner of his mouth couldn’t contain his lasting smile. “I get it you don’t want to fight, that’s your choice and I respect that. You’ve already been doing more than enough by protecting me all this time with your powers, I’m thankful really.”

Yunho couldn’t help but smile too at the other words.

✧

Turns out building little prototypes for Hongjoong was way more fun than Yunho had predicted. The younger already had a natural hand with technology and his creativity combined with years of reading comic books filled his head with ideas not only of ways to apply his own power, but of plain weapons to help the other fight and capture the villain.

If The Cardinal was a supervillain then Hongjoong would have to be his antagonising superhero, and so that inspired the fashion major to work on an uniform to make himself easily recognisable, but also cover his identity.

Much of their enemy’s tactic fell on swaying the public’s mentality and the last thing Hongjoong wanted was to be publicly recognised by his little internet following. Standing up to the other was sure to earn him a spotlight over all types of media and he hoped it would work out in his favor, raise the moral of those that had been controlled before.

That being said his uniform wasn’t flashy or anything of the sort, just a very stylistic and accessorised black suit, followed by a mask and hat covering the lower half of his face and shadowing his eyes.

In a week he had it done, Yunho finishing some of his projects soon after, thanking the god’s for the college’s facilities offering so much for his course. It was truly amazing what you could do with a 3d printer plus some chips and cables.

Hongjoong was dressed up in his attire, showing off his designer skill to his friend in their room when Yunho presented him with his first set of gear.

“So I made these three items so far, they are still prototypes and need testing, but are ready to use already.” Yunho started dropping the tech on the table.”I’m making something more permanent to deal with their powers for good, but that might take a long time still.”

“Okay, walk me through it.” The new hero asked.

“So those earphones, I made them embedded with my power. I made them hollow inside so that the piece of rubber I added inside has space to expand well before it becomes too much. So it’s not like it’s unbreakable or anything, but they do have a trick to them to help you out in that case.” The technician started explaining, Hongjoong looking slightly lost, but understanding for the most part humming along.

“They are completely noise cancelling, all you hear will actually be filtered by a mic, that way if the duration runs out the mic breaks as well and you’ll hear nothing. It’ll be a pain, but it should be enough for you to make a escape without hearing The Cardinal’s voice.” He continued.

“Ah I see, you thought it out so thoroughly, I’m impressed.” Hongjoong stroke the other’s ego seeing how excited he looked talking about his creation, making him bashful to the the point of his ear reddening.

“Yeah, I mean, nothing I make can last forever so we’ve got to consider what to do when it breaks. I made this one rather easy to do maintenance with refills for the inside though so I would rather you didn’t let it get to that point. Also if you press the button here on the side it calls me. You know, for emergencies only.” He finished describing his most fond masterpiece.

“Got it” The older nodded. ”Next.”

“Okay, those gloves then. Easy to explain, they are basically a weak taser. Mainly to take care of the big guy, they give a nice stun for you to get past him. Just use it as a last case scenario trick up your sleeve since they don’t have much charge. I’m working on something better and long ranged, but maybe in the meantime you should actually go out and buy a taser.” Yunho explained, and Hongjoong hummed in response.

The older had mentioned not wanting to use any heavy weapons, taking the ethics of the heroic role seriously, and so Yunho was trying to accommodate his wishes, although it was hard to escalate the effectiveness without also escalating the pain.

“The last one is just a charm for you to put on in a bracelet or necklace to use in daily life. It’s easy to open and refill so you can use it around me as well.” Yunho explained handing him a little tiny star.

Hongjoong swirled the tiny sparkly item on the tip of his finger analysing it from every angle.

“It’s so pretty.” He mumbled, a soft smile falling on Yunho’s face. “You know, sometime you need to really explain to me why I should use it around you. We never talked about your power since we first met.” The smile in his face faded as fast as it came. “I just don’t want to make it harder for you, if you need me to use this there must be a reason, right?”

Yunho sighted at that, knowing the time to open up would come. He just never knew how to talk about serious things like that, his power specially.

“I just see and feel things in a different way and it can be overwhelming sometimes.” He answered not really wanting to get deeper into it.

“You know you can talk to me about it if you need to. I’ll try to understand whatever it is.” Hongjoong said softly leaving the tiny star on the desk, his emotions now noticeable again. The soft orange hue of his compassion warming Yunho up and breaking through his walls, just a little bit.

They had been rooming together for a while now, he might as well open up. He only hoped the other didn’t think he was praying onto his feelings, he was sure this should be a major privacy invasion. Not that he could do much about that.

“Have you ever heard of empaths?” He started off dreading it already.

“Like people that can understand other people’s feelings well?” The older turned back to him while taking the outer layer of his suit to put it away.

“Not quite, it’s not just understanding. I- I can feel it myself, the emotions of other people. In a very different way than normal people would feel them.” Yunho was hesitant to continue explaining, but Hongjoong waited patiently for it.

“With every sense I can feel it, I see auras and I feel it in the temperature, even in the smell in the air and in the taste on my tongue and sometimes I can even hear a ringing in my ear when it’s too strong. It’s tiring and invasive and I can’t really turn it off. That’s why it gives me a break if you use it.”

He ended spilling his secrets way too easily, glad to get it off his chest, barely stopping himself before saying how Hongjoong’s emotional was specially exhausting.

Hongjoong stretched a hand to touch his shoulder, looking at him with a soft expression in his face as he said his own thoughts.

“I see, that explains a few things. Yunho, I know it must be hard for you to open up about it, but I just want to let you know you can trust me. I won’t judge, I just want to help. So next time I hope you feel comfortable to tell me anything you’re struggling with earlier.”

Yunho hummed in response, a pout on his lips to hold back the teary sensation overcoming his face. The other seeming satisfied with his own speech and went away to change the rest of his clothes.

Hongjoong sometimes felt like a father figure to Yunho, already knowing his troubles before he even said anything, but waiting patiently for him to come to him for advice instead of intervening by himself.

And Yunho was glad for it, to have someone solid in his life that he could always rely on and fall back onto when he needed help or it all became too much, that didn’t push him too hard or demanded more than he could give.

He just wasn’t used to being vulnerable like that with someone else and it would take more than just a few months to reach a point where he would be comfortable venting out his inner struggles, specially after internalising it for so long.

✧

The first time Hongjoong actually went out to fight the villain came sooner than he expected and Yunho was a ball of nerves, yet he didn’t back down on his decision to not get caught up in it.

It was still early into the night as they saw the news, The Cardinal shouting into a megaphone from a varanda of a low building, stopping a whole avenue with just his voice.

His attacks seemed to follow a pattern now of growing in scale, installing fear in the citizens heart, continuing to record it through the wide web. It supplied them with a previous test of their equipment when he started a ig live a few days back, so now they were all set knowing the earphones worked.

He was getting greedy and his roommate that had been itching to just go there and punch him in the face got ready in record time, jumping through the window into the fire escape to not attract any attention to his suspicious outfit.

Since Yunho forged those little gadgets to help him out and he finished his own uniform, Hongjoong had been out “patrolling” as a “superhero” a few time. Yunho found it cringy to just think about it, but the other had a point that he needed to practice, both using the gadgets and porting himself like a vigilante, as well as fighting and being inconspicuous.

He managed to even catch a few petty thieves and drunk harassers on the street to his best friend surprise. It wasn’t that Yunho doubted Hongjoong, but he didn’t expect the other to own up to this persona so well.

In theory his part was to just be mindful of his phone in case Hongjoong fucked up too bad, otherwise he was supposed to be free of responsibility. That didn’t make him any less nervous and he knew he wouldn’t be able to calm down on his own, neither focus on anything else so he just made sure his phone was ringing as loud as it possibly could and took a couple of pills to sooth his anxiety and maybe rest his eyes a little bit.

He just couldn’t concentrate enough to do anything else after all. Not his smartest idea, he gets that, but they talked beforehand about not overdoing it too much on the first time and being cautious, so he just choose to trust that Hongjoong would have an ounce of common sense and not need him to intervene so early on.

Not even fifteen minutes later tho his phone rang, startling him and he groaned as he held it up, already mourning the fact that he would have to leave his comfy covers and go out in the cold weather.

The message on the screen wasn’t what he was first expecting though.

09:37 pm

unknown

Yunho I’m serious don’t get involved in this or you’ll regret it.

09:37 pm

you

im not involved

im literally in bed rn playing hearthstone on my phone

i could not be less involved even if i tried

09:38 pm

unknown

I’m not an idiot there’s no way this is not your friend right there

09:38 pm

you

it’s not him

i can testify we both here tucked in bed on our phones like good boys seriously

“Oh, really?” a deep voice sounded from his window and the frightened high pitched screech that came out of Yunho didn’t sound neither human nor manly as he almost feel out of bed jumping from surprise, his heart beating so fast he was sure it’d stop at any moments.

“You can’t lie to me, Yunho.” The invisible boy commented as he walked to the end of Yunho’s bed to face him.

“I wasn’t lying, I’m really not involved.“ Yunho said with a pout, bummed at both being caught in his lie and getting scared like that. He should be more seriously frightened, but for some reason he didn’t feel much more than just a few butterfly in his stomach, maybe the meds.

“What about your friend?” The other asked with an eyebrow raised, looking down on him.

“Ask him yourself, how am I supposed to know?” he looked away still pouting. The danger of the situation still not sinking in, although there was a feeling of vulnerability in him sitting up in his bed covered with his comforter up to his waist now.

The man in front of him let out a sight. He hesitated a second before making a move to seat there at the end of the bed. Yunho quickly moved his feet making space for him and suddenly the other didn’t look so intimidating now at his eye level, moonlight hitting his face in just the right angle to make Yunho feel some type of way even with the dark mask over his mouth. His eyes held a soft but distressed emotion that he couldn’t pinpoint.

“Look, your power… It may help you not be controlled or to see me, but that’s not enough. If you get in his way you will lose. I…” he started in a coaxing tone that Yunho wouldn’t expect  someone that was supposed to be his enemy to talk in, but soon hesitated and looked away. “We don’t want any conflict.” he finished quietly.

“I’m sorry” the taller boy answered slowly, surprising even himself. Maybe it was the fact that he was embarrassingly sleepy for that early in the night, his brain hazily trying to catch up with the situation still, or maybe it was the gentle attitude and how pained the other looked at the prospect of Yunho pushing forward that made the words spill mindlessly from his lips.

Unfortunately that wasn’t the answer the other was expecting he noted as he saw him sigh again and get up.

“Wait” he called out as an impulse. The man looked back at him while he could only dumbly stare trying to form a coherent thought. “Have we met before?”

The stranger looked away for a moment then back at him mumbling a no before going through the window off into the night. Yunho was left to silently collect his thought and chastise himself for the dumb question.

For a second, he felt like he could recognise the boy from his memories. The invisible presence in his high school that sparked into his view once in a blue moon, but at this point he couldn’t say for sure if the boy in his memory and the man that had just left were really similar or if it was just him projecting one onto the other in an attempt to make sense of either of them.

It later felt like a wasted opportunity to let him walk away like that without asking anything useful. His brain was now filled with questions, most of them more about the man himself than the conflicting situation they currently found themselves in. His reluctance to fight in addition to the care his few words held intrigued him, and he would be lying if he said he wasn’t even a bit attracted to the intruder in his sleepy stupor.

He would like to at least believe it to be a simple momentous acknowledgment of the other’s physical attributes rather than him being so naive that he’d catch a serious infatuation for any handsome caring stranger.

Sometimes you look at the tv and find the bad guy hot and that was just that, he told himself pushing the thought away.

Looking back at his phone a few texts from Hongjoong popped up at the screen informing of his success and that he was coming home soon. The newbie hero’s texts were filled with hurried details about how he managed to scare the villain away, bravados of how he’d catch him next time and praise for Yunho’s first set of gadgets.

Yunho only quickly scanned through them adding a curt answer at the end before laying back again to try and clear his thought filled head before the other arrived. He decided to keep his own villain encounter to himself.

[kimarchive]

When Saweetie landed a viral hit with her boss-up anthem “ICY GRL,” it was the product of unchecked confidence and limitless ambition. As a student at the University of Southern California, the Bay Area native already knew she could rap and used her Instagram account to prove it. Videos of Saweetie freestyling in the front seat of her car, along with a hyperactive SoundCloud page, eventually led to a record deal and her debut EP, High Maintenance. She flaunted her ability to weaponize words and spray them unsparingly at her exes and cynics on songs such as “B.A.N.” and “Good Good.” And even though her career is a product of the internet, the 26-year-old rapper, born Diamonté Harper, remains a student of hip hop’s pre-digital heyday. Her biggest hit, “My Type,” samples Petey Pablo’s “Freek-a-Leek,” and her most recent EP, this year’s ICY, is an old-school ode to getting the bag. Her respect for the history of the genre is why, when she spoke to her idol Lil’ Kim for the first time, she could barely contain herself.

LIL’ KIM: Hey, sexy girl! Where you at? SAWEETIE: I just flew from L.A. to San Diego. I have a show here tonight. Where you at? KIM: I’m in Jersey. So, first of all, how did you get so freaking dope? SAWEETIE: Oh my gosh. I’m sorry. I’m having a moment. I can’t believe it’s you. You sound just like your songs! KIM: I don’t think they saw you fucking coming. And I still don’t think they see you coming. You feel me? SAWEETIE: Yeah, I feel you. How did I get so dope? Writing has always been my thing, and a lot of people don’t know that entertaining is a whole other thing. That was never my strong suit. So I was looking at a bunch of performers, wondering what I could take from them and make my own. One thing I really love about you is that when you walk onstage, you might not be rapping and you might not be dancing, but just your presence—I’m like, “Damn.” That’s what I want to have onstage. KIM: If you take anything from me, you’re going to take this and you’re going to hold it in your hand and put it in your heart and lock it, because I don’t say shit I don’t mean. When I watched you perform at Summer Jam, you were my highlight. Even though you were out there for a short period of time, guess what? It was short and Saweetie. You captivated me. SAWEETIE: You’re giving me butterflies. My heart is beating so fast! My choreographer told me a story about you. I forget which award show it was, but Puff was talking to an artist, and the artist didn’t want to do something, and then you came in and you were like, “Oh, you don’t want to do it? I’ll do it, because our job as performers is to entertain.” I’d never thought about it that way. It’s not just about reciting the lyrics and doing the one-two step. The goal is to entertain. KIM: Girls go out there and they perform, but they may not captivate people. But when I watch you onstage, and look at your Instagram, I noticed that mama is a fashionista! Bitch, you be givin’ lewks. SAWEETIE: Every year I write down goals for myself, and I was like, “I really hope I find my Misa Hylton [Lil’ Kim’s stylist] this year, because I would love to have looks like Kim had.” You guys were a lethal combination, and, girl, maybe three months after that, I found my stylist. No matter where I go, I’m trying to put on a look like Kim. KIM: You remind me of me. One of the things that I love that you adopted into your routine is the whole girly cheerleader thing. It’s so sexy. And then you were doing this dance at one show, you were doing this little butt move, and it was the perfect butt move because it was something I would do. When you recorded “My Type,” did you like the beat right away? When Puffy brought me “No Time,” I hated that freakin’ record. SAWEETIE: Really? KIM: I hated it, girl. But he’s my big brother and I looked up to him so much that anything he told me to do, I did. And he was very protective of me. He always said, “Kim, you do better when I give you a record that you don’t like.” I guess I was trying to prove something to him. Were you super excited when you first heard the “My Type” beat? SAWEETIE: I was actually in the studio when they made it, because I was missing one more song off of my EP—I was missing a slap. We were about to sample something else, but I was like, “What is something from my childhood that I couldn’t get enough of?” And I remembered being 10 or 11 dancing to that Petey Pablo song. The sample gets me every time. KIM: You give the song a whole new life, the way you attacked it. You just went in on it because you loved it. Is it certified gold or platinum now? SAWEETIE: My first song, “ICY GRL,” is platinum and “My Type” is gold. KIM: How does that feel? SAWEETIE: It feels amazing. I feel like everything is just coming together, and the fact that I’m getting to interview with you, it just makes everything so surreal and dope. KIM: Interview published one of the biggest magazine photos for me, so they became like my extended family. We have this history. The girls you dance with onstage, are those your friends? SAWEETIE: One of them is my best friend, and the rest are her friends. It’s all homegirl vibes. KIM: That’s so dope. You can tell there’s a friendship there. Sometimes girls go onstage with dancers and you can tell they don’t know them. SAWEETIE: When you work on my team, I want everybody to feel at home. Music is my career, but dancing is their career, and I want their career to be as fun as mine. KIM: My best friend danced for me for years. I have a television show on VH1 called Girls Cruise, and she’s on it with me. Now she has her own clothing line at Neiman Marcus. She’s a boss bitch. What’s your sign, Saweetie? SAWEETIE: I’m a Cancer. Just like you. KIM: Oh my god, I can’t take it! SAWEETIE: Girl, let me tell you something. Every sign got hella celebrities aligned with them. So I was like, “Who’s a dope Cancer out there?” Girl, when I saw your name on the list, I was like, “Kim’s a Cancer and she’s a rapper, so I know I can be a rapper, too.” KIM: Who are your top-three dream collaborators? SAWEETIE: I’m a huge J. Cole fan. When I was trying to come up, I had no way of getting my music out there, so after one of his concerts, I waited by his tour bus and rapped for him. The second one would be Rihanna, because I grew up on her. For my third, well, this is what happened. When I was coming up, I noticed a lot of female rappers had lighter voices than mine. I have a deep voice when I rap. So I was listening to my music catalog, and I noticed that you also have a deep voice when you rap. I don’t know if I’d ever be able to collaborate with you, but I always wanted to sit in a studio with you just to see how you record. KIM: We could do something so dope, and it would be unexpected. So that’s done. I think you and Rihanna would be the sexiest combination. I just love that. But, girl, you already got me. You and I are gonna be hanging out. I can see it. I know these things. What’s your favorite makeup? SAWEETIE: Lip gloss. I’m actually coming out with my own lip gloss line, and I’m gonna send you all the colors. I basically took all of my favorite characteristics of lip glosses that I love, and combined them into one. KIM: You gotta give me one. No, wait, I’m going to buy one. If I had to pick two, it would be my lipstick and my eyebrows. My lashes would be my third thing. SAWEETIE: I’d be out here looking like a bald eagle without my lashes. I have two questions for you: What’s your favorite Lil’ Kim song, and what’s the best bar you’ve ever rapped? KIM: My favorite Lil’ Kim song by myself is “Qu— SAWEETIE: Wait! Wait! Wait! Are you about to say “Queen Bitch”? KIM: Yes! That’s my song! “Kill a nigga for my nigga by any means bitch! Murder scene bitch!” SAWEETIE: My favorite bar by any female ever is yours: “Tryin’ to impress me with your five G stones, I give you ten Gs, nigga, if ya leave me alone.” LIL KIM: I’m not gonna lie, Saweetie, I be forgetting shit. I have so many songs that I can’t even think of my favorite bars on the spot, but I love that one. SAWEETIE: How did “Queen Bitch” come about? LIL KIM: I have to give props to the King himself: Biggie was there with me every step of the way in the studio. He always loved Wu-Tang, and there was this beat that they had. I was his honey, so he was like, “My honey got to have a beat like this.” That was one of my favorite moments. SAWEETIE: Girl, you got too many, for real. I hope I have that one day. LIL KIM: My Saweetie, this was amazing for me. SAWEETIE: I’m sorry if I got a little too hype. LIL KIM: I’m gonna send you my info and you could send me yours and we’ll keep in touch. Enjoy your show tonight. Have fun and kill ’em, because I know you’re gonna kill ’em. I don’t know you, but I love you. SAWEETIE: I’ve loved you since I was 13.

[sumptuoushstyles-blog]

Harry and Y/N have the same complicated job.

or, Harry and Y/N are partnered up at the BAU, with a few (or more than a few) obstacles in the way.

Word Count: 1.7k

Requested?: NOPE!

Warnings: idk if there really is any just talks about murder but besides that nothing

a/n: ahhh! I know I said I was going to start something when I was on winter break but I decided to get a head start on my first series! I don’t see a lot about like agent!harry, even less with agent!y/n so I thought it would be interesting :’) let me know how you guys feel about it! also, I’m posting this at 3am my time because I’m too excited :’)

You’re parking the car when you realize that this is the start of a new life for you. You’re starting your first day at your new job. It has been your dream job since you were a little girl, following in your father’s footsteps by joining the BAU. He’s always given you tips throughout the years, helping you impress the professors and trainers when it came down to testing.

Because of your father, your name was known, therefore you were meant to impress always, not wanting to lose the reputation as being one of the best, just like your father was.

You weren’t forced into this type of work either, which is why it’s also such a big deal to you. You did this because you wanted to find the bad guys and help the good ones, not because of the reputation you brought. Your father never failed to remind you that you did this yourself, that if they only want you for your name, then they didn’t deserve you, and that’s stuck with you ever since you’ve graduated.

“Detective Y/L/N!” Your name is yelled by your boss as soon as you walk into the building. Walking over to him, you watch as he gestures to the person on the right, both of you go to shake hands as a greeting, smiling softly. “This is Harry Styles, he’ll be your partner until I decide he’s not.” Agent Larson says, a small smile on his face. You and Harry part and you give your attention back to your captain.

“Harry has been here for a little over a year now, he’s one of the best agents here. His last partner had some problems, which is why this spot was opened up so quickly. He’ll help you with the in and outs of the force, helping you with what you should be doing and what you shouldn’t. Is that clear?” He asks.

“Yes, sir!” You exclaim and nod, him giving you a hard nod himself before walking away. You look at Harry and watch as his smile is cleared off of his face as soon as the captain turns his back.

“You’re Y/L/N’s daughter?” He questions, you barely get out a “yes” before he cuts you off.

“Yeh understand I’m not gonna treat yeh any different than I would with anyone else, righ’?” You smile, tilting your head to the side with content.

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted, Styles. Now, can you show me where my desk is so I can start working please?”

--------

You are not what Harry was expecting. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but he wasn’t expecting someone to be so excited over a job like this. The Behavioral Analysis Unit could look exciting when you’re in college and in training, but not when you’re living in the reality of it.

“This is your desk.” He says, pointing to a desk that’s in front of his own. “‘M over here, so yeh know. If yeh need me I’m righ’ here.”

He had just got done giving you the tour of the building. Where the conference room is, where all the computers are, where Agent Larson's office is, and so on.

“So,” he sighed, “Any questions?”

“Is there any work for me to do?” You inquired, putting your briefcase down on your desk and shrugging your jacket off.

“Well, I have some work that needs to be finished if yeh-”

“No.” You cut him off, startling Harry in the process, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion.

“Pardon?” He questions, not understanding fully why you told him ‘no’ in the small fraction of time that you’ve known him.

“You could treat me like you would anyone else, but I’m not anyone else. I’m here to do my own work, not finish off yours. So, is there any work for me to do, partner?”

He clenches his jaw, his mind trying to wrap around the fact that you just gave him attitude, on the first day he may add! He can’t get a word out before he’s interrupted by agent Larson.

“Styles, Y/L/N, we just got a call from the offices in New York. Conference room, now.” He states, swiftly walking through the conference room doors.

You both walk in, and you begin to pull a notebook and pen out, and Harry is confused as to why you would, considering the team gets the files anyhow.

“Agent Horan, begin talking please.” That’s when he sees you writing. He watches as you neatly but quickly jot down Niall’s name, well, “Horan,” and describe what he looks like. He has to admit, it’s something he wishes he did when he joined the team. It would’ve saved him the embarrassment of mixing up people’s names, turning him into a stuttering mess for a whole week.

“So, as you’ve heard, the New York offices called and they need our help, there’s been another victim, Sarah Brown, making her the 5th kill in 2 weeks. All of them have been women, in their mid-20s with the same hair color, brunette. All clothing is removed besides their bra and underwear, with no clothing left at the scene.” He announced, handing out the files of the victims that include their pictures of what they looked like on the scene, as well as pulling it up on a big screen.

“They’ve all been murdered in the same way as well. Practically out in the open with a broken neck and a range of stab wounds, less stabs as more victims were killed. Doesn’t make any sense.” Niall mutters out, looking at the pictures in confusion.

“He breaks their neck because it’s quick, and then talks his guilt out by stabbing them repeatedly.” You speculated, squinting at the pictures as well. All heads turn to you. You snap your head up and give a small smile, “Hi, Agent Y/N Y/L/N, I’m new here.”

“So you’re sayin’ that the more he kills, the fewer stab wounds we’ll see?” Niall questions you, and you nod, “Why?”

“Because as he’s getting used t’killing people, the less guilty he feels.” Harry began, “meaning he’ll be harder to find if all he’s doin’ is snapping necks.” He mutters out, closing the files harshly, you nodding in confirmation.

“Which really means that time is running out. We need to stop him before it gets to that point of only snapping necks.” Agent Larson says, the room muttering out their agreements.

“Do the women have any correlation with each other?” A redheaded girl asks.

“They all went to NYU.” And the whole room groans. New York University has over 50,000 students in it and considering that the victims graduated 4-5 years ago, it’s not going to be easy.

“Okay team,” Larson starts, “We have lives to save, grab your stuff and let’s go.”

As you’re settling down in the jet, you learn who everyone is. Horan, who goes by Niall or his last name, is the person who gets the information and talks to the press and such. The redhead, Claire, is Liam’s partner. Liam is someone that Harry briefly introduced you to on the tour of the office, a good work friend of his. They basically do what you and Harry do, but they just hold more of the information and lack some of the skill, that’s what Harry tells you anyways.

That’s where you and Harry come in, with the brains and skills. There’s no offense to Claire and Liam, they’re trained and all, it’s just they’d be more hesitant with pulling the trigger than you or Harry.

Since the victim was found this morning, you and Harry were instructed to go to the scene to scope things out as soon as the jet has landed. You were given a car and address to go, and Harry gets in the driver's seat.

Harry begins driving before he talks, “Listen,” he starts, Y/N turning slightly to face him, “I want t’get along. I’m sorry if it sounded like I was just givin’ yeh my scraps, but I jus’ wanted to show yeh what kind of work you’d be gettin’, never wanted yeh to do it for me, love.”

You gasp, “Harry I’m so sorry!” You apologize, “I’m just used to people wanting to walk all over me because of my dad, I just wanted to be clear about what kind of person I am before you got a chance to do whatever you wanted to me, I’m really sorry.”

Now Harry feels guilty about making her feel bad. “No, don’t worry about it! Hi, I’m Harry, the best partner you’ll ever have.” He states cheekily, grinning as he takes his eyes off the road to glance at his partner before bringing his attention back to the road.

You giggle, “I’m Y/N, a pleasure to be working with you.”

--------

Harry’s talking to a police officer at the crime scene, while you’re walking around the scene. As you’re walking, you notice something on the body. “Harry! C’mere.” You shout, squatting down to get a better look.

“What’s up?” He wonders, putting sterile gloves on and squatting with you.

“That’s not blood on her cheek.” You observed, pointing to the exact spot you’re talking about without touching it. Harry looks at the cheek intently, nodding as he seems to understand where you’re going with that accusation.

“Lipstick.” He states, you nodding before asking if the police could run some tests in their labs on the lipstick stain for a confirmation.

He takes his gloves off and reaches for the files of the previous victims, them all having the same “blood” mark on their cheeks. You walk over and peer at the documents, noticing what he just saw.

“It’s not a he.” He states. You shake your head and smiling. “Nope!” You agree, “It’s a she! Gosh, this just got so much more interesting!” You smile, giddy with excitement.

Harry laughs at you in amusement, “Sure it did, Y/N. Nice work.” He smirks, walking back to the car as you smile to yourself. You can already tell that you and Harry are going to make great partners, and it’s only the beginning. But before you think about the future, you need to think about finding the killer on the loose. 

[brooklynislandgirl]

[Lorcan and Beth] ❤♡❥ღ💕💘💝💓💌💟💙💚💜💛

Heart Eyes || -Selectively- Accepting

❤: who is more affectionate in public? in private?The biting. The scratching. The ambushes in alleys, the limping home afterwards to patch up the wounds. Every inch was a bloody war waged with little care for Collateral Damage, a phrase Beth has always hated. Whatever cruel savagery Lorcan came up with, she did her best to outdo him, feeling the magick in her veins boiling over.And behind closed doors? If anything, it’s worse. It’s brutal. There’s no affection in any sense of the word, she isn’t built that way any more and he never had been. Things are thrown. Words are snarled. If anything, there’s even less respect between them. 

There was a term for it back during the age of sail… No Quarter Asked or Given.And for the life of her, she can’t make herself regret it.

“I…don’ unnerstan’ da question.”

♡: who is the bigger romantic openly? secretly?

A feral smile graces her lips.Romantic. As in Legions locusting their way across unconquered territories, decimating entire swathes of people, taking spoils in the form of exotic beasts and gold and slaves and wives, burning and salting the land as they go to ensure nothing rises up again in its place, supplanting the native culture with that of the Empire...oh yes, Lorcan is far more romantic than Beth.

But she’s always been a fast learner and he’s not getting away completely unscathed any more, is he? That leering smile of his is becoming a little harder to come by.

“I mean…depends onna day, really.”

❥: who is more likely to plan something big for valentine’s day?

For Valentine’s day, he’d gotten her an box of candy hearts. More correctly it was a box of human hearts cut into bite sized bits and dipped in some kind of spicy, dark chocolate coating.Andy was tasked with the manhunt for the killer who left no less than twenty heartless bodies scattered across New York City. After weeks of no leads, a special unit of the FBI had come in to take over the investigation. She only belatedly realised it had been a Technocratic cabal, and that their mission had been to sanitise the situation. At least that was the rumour. She almost had to laugh because they’d never find him. And her brother looked incompetent.

Maybe that was the best gift of all.

And what did she give him in return? She kept his secret.

“Absolutely Lorcan.”

ღ: who is more likely to initiate hand-holding in public?

She snatches at his wrist. Coils fingers around it like vines and holds it in an iron grip. A flick of her thumb and there’s a razor thin slash across the softer skin and his blood flows free. There’s a moment of surprise in his eyes before they narrow on her and he bares his teeth. A promise threat to be consummated at a place and a time of his choosing. She doesn’t bother to apologise.

She soaks her fingertips in his viscera and makes a design on the brick wall. Something eldritch and arcane in a language that…wasn’t. He’s intrigued and she knows it. And when she pushes on the last brick and the wall dissolves into green mossy woods that haven’t existed in more centuries than even he can fathom, she knows she’s got him completely. So what does she do?

She digs her claws in deeper. Until they’re deflected by the actual bones in his arm before she rips them away.And then? Then she slips through the portal…and she runs.“Dis one gonna hafta say is really all me.”

💕: who is more likely to make huge declarations of love in front of other people?

She almost chokes on the word. She’s sure if he were in her place…but no, he wouldn’t have allowed such an interrogation. What they have…what they do isn’t love. It’s not even close. It’s…necessary. It’s nature at it’s darkest aspect, the survival of the fittest, and they haven’t yet figured out which one was going to walk away, and which one wasn’t.“Nex’ question.”💘: who developed a crush on the other first?

She can’t quite remember. It’s like waking up from a vivid dream but the second your eyes open it all starts to fall away until all that’s left are the emotional impressions and none of the imagery. But she’s sure that the accusation was that Lorcan had been born out of the loss…of a woman she might have been lifetimes ago. That he’d been a consolidation of agony and grief and a rage so bright, so pure, that it threatened to destroy everything around it. But Beth? She knows that’s a lie. A beautifully and tragically created one. “I guess ya could say…him.”

💝: who spends more time (possibly overthinking) what presents to get the other?

Again, she laughs. What do you give a god when you worship…nothing. When your belief in all things has thinned so much that you’ve become an impenetrable island of your own making? He leaves her ever increasingly disturbing gifts, usually of the organic and very much bloody kind. She leaves him new scars without a thought. And what she really wants from him? He withholds. Toys with the promise of it. Enraptures her with the idea of just how easy, just how quick he can make it all…then dances away before she blinks.

He makes her scream.Someday, she’s going to make him cry.“We both do, in our own ways.”

💓: who initiates most physical contact?

It happens. Every. Single. Time. The second he gets a chance, he slips in behind her. Cuts into the hinge of her jaw with claw or fang before running his tongue along the brittle edges of her and up to her ear. His breath hot and damp like a tropical storm waiting to happen. Pushing. Always pushing. Trying to get a rise out of her and she never fails to disappoint him.

And for her part? She’s learned how to cut and run, both figuratively and metaphorically. Guerrilla tactics because she can’t stand toe to toe with him despite all of her magick. As he likes to point out…she isn’t an Oracle yet, and he doesn’t have to obey a damn thing. So she gets as close as he lets her and uses tricks. Poison here. Cold iron there. Her own natural fangs and claws honed to razor sharpness.

And sometimes… well, anomalies happen. The time she soothed a palm across his back because his grief was more painful than anything she could do. The time he watched over as she slept off the worst effects of someone else’s assault, and feathered his fingers through her hair.

“Take turns, really. Maybe da mos’ normal kine about us, really.”

💌: who is more likely to send cutesy texts to the other?

Luka shows up on her doorstep, half drunk and half maudlin. There’s new bruises. There’s cuts and healing bones. He’s exhausted and doesn’t put up a fight when she lets him in ~some day, he’ll use the door~ and she can’t help but wonder if he uses the fire-escape because the rickety old thing is technically cold iron. She peels his shirt off slowly and trails her fingers along the wounds which some are already half healed. She patches up what isn’t and narrows her eyes behind his back, as she’s staunching a particularly deep cut. To anyone else, these would look like self-inflicted wounds. She knows better.And the longer she ignores him, the worse it’s going to get.“Uhm. I guess…you could say it’s Lorcan.”

💟: who spends time reading their zodiac compatibilities?

“Seriously? For reals?! Yeah, go ahead. Make one single moon joke. I dare you.”💙: who is more protective?

‘Lorcan, please.’He was going to do it. He was actually…going…to do it.Her heart squeezed itself in her chest and she couldn’t draw a breath.

He hunkered down over the edge of the roof, one arm extended outward. From his tenuous grasp, his claws sank into her brother’s throat, and Andy dangled at his whim, hands clutching desperately at Lorcan’s forearm. Andy’s face was turning shades that she couldn’t even begin to describe, the veins in his brow pulsing with adrenaline and for the first time she can remember… there was genuine fear in his bloodshot eyes.

‘Jus’…pu’ him back onna roof, please…ya no can…’For a moment he turns his head back over his shoulder. Glares at her with a madness in his eyes that surpasses anything she has seen before. They gleam lambent in the moonlight as he snarls at her, strands of saliva spanning the space between his fangs.

‘Please? Jus’ dis once. F’ me?’

She’s absolutely certain he’s going to let go and this time nothing she can do will keep her brother from splattering over the pavement seven storeys below.That multitude of voices he speaks with sends ice down her spine. She barely catches the words over the choking sounds Andy’s making again.

‘Ye e'er be touchin’ ..e'er be lookin’ at ‘er any way bu’ proper princlin’…oi’ be givin’ ye o’ repeat o’ who burned ye kingdom an’ e'erd'in’ ye loved ta d'ground around ye corpse.’Beth shivers.“Definitely Lorcan.”

💚: who tends to get sick more often? who is better at taking care of the other?

The moon’s turned again, hiding its light from the world. The tides are at their lowest, sea and blood alike, and he’s fallen victim of his own melancholy. He never talks about himself in these moments, but what is otherwise so terrible and fierce, grows thoughtful and full of sorrow for these three nights. She doesn’t have to look at the sky beyond his hollow to know this. And what can she do but sit there quietly. Let him rest his head in her lap and stroke those fiery strands away from his face. This is the closest that Lorcan gets to sleeping, to dreaming, all of him curled up protective of his own ribs and internal organs, eyes barely slitted open and surely unseeing.

It’s not a sickness either, but maybe it is. A malady of the mind. Whatever it is, she’ll watch over him those nights. And she won’t speak of it afterwards.“Me.”

💜: who said “i love you” first? or, if neither has said it yet, who is more likely to say it first?

“He calls me Beth.”

💛: who believes in soulmates?

The door slams open. It makes the Man in White’s face pale because there was no alarms. No screaming. No sound of chain-guns firing through the corridors. He starts to stand up and in a blur of motion, faster than her eyes can track, there’s a flash of shadow. A slick, wet sound that ends in a gurgle.The Man in White is now soaked crimson, and some of the arterial spray splashes across her face. She watches almost dispassionately as the body falls in two separate pieces.

For just a split second, she thinks he’s actually going to leave her there. The leer on his maw suggests it, dripping red and wide in a close approximation of a smile.

“Raicleach.”She narrows her eyes.“Maugrim.”

Primium shackles were designed to bind the changing breeds. To ward off ghosts and hamper fae. To counter a mage’s Sphere Magick and prevent them from working their will. They weren’t meant to be proof against the divine.She rubs at the raw flesh of her abraded wrists.

“What took you so long?”“Were ye poi'nin’ o'way d'loss o'me?””No.”“Good. Now, move yer arse, woman.”

[our-smooty]

Take Me to Church Chapter 9: Whatever You want

Fandom: Gorillaz

Rating: Explicit

Relationships: 2doc

Tags: Car Accidents Angst Hurt/Comfort Drugs/Alcohol Implied/Referenced Suicide SuicideHealing Everything Hurts

Summary: The band is back together, but things are… weird to say the least. But when a crisis arises, can they pull it all together and be a family again?

Link to other Chapters on my Blog!

He was on a ledge, ocean crashing against the rocks below. The never-ending squawking of seagulls rang in his ears and he wished they would just shut up for five minutes so he could think. It was like being on Plastic Beach again, only this time the sea was less foreboding and more welcoming, calling to him.

Murdoc… Murdoc....

It’d be so easy, so easy to take one step forward and fall into the sea, to sink into her depths and end this never-ending squawking, this never-ending feeling. He was named for the sea after all, and he always seemed to come back to it, it was only right that she would end it for him.

With more resolve than he’d felt in years, he took a step forward off the cliff, feeling the gut-punch wretch of gravity pulling him down down down towards those sharp rocks and black waters. Suddenly the sea didn’t look so inviting, and he felt panic course through his veins. This was a mistake he didn’t want—

Murdoc woke up suddenly in a cold sweat, his heart racing. He swore for a second he could still hear the seagulls—was he back on Plastic Beach?—but it turned out to be 2D snoring beside him. What the hell was 2D doing in his bed again; they hadn’t fucked last night, had they? Well, other than the time before dinner. He couldn’t remember so he must have been awfully drunk, and Stu didn’t strike him as they type of guy to take advantage. But then again, you could never really know.

Still, he had his pants on and didn’t feel sticky so the singer must have been there for another reason. Maybe he really had had a nightmare this time and crawled into Murdoc’s bed for comfort? Made about as much sense as anything else.

The adrenaline from the dream was wearing off and Murdoc suddenly realized that he felt like crap. That special type of crap feeling that came only after either a really good night or a bad one. Judging by the fact there was a bucket of vomit beside him and no lovely ladies around, it was probably the latter.

“Urgh,” Murdoc groaned as he tried to sit up. His mouth tasted and felt like a bog and his head ached something fierce, nevermind the fact he was absolutely bursting for a piss. Narrowly avoiding sticking his bare foot in the sick bucket, Murdoc trudged through the room and out to the bathroom.

Thanking Satan it was free he walked in and stood in front of the toilet, not bothering to close the door. With the most pressing matters taken care of, he stopped to brush his teeth and take some paracetamol. He would have loved something a bit stronger, but he remembered 2D had had his panties in a bunch over Murdoc ‘borrowing’ too many pills lately.

He sighed in resignation and stared into the mirror. Bloodshot eyes, saggy skin, and stubble greeted him with all the enthusiasm of a dead skunk.

“Satan, I look like shit, ” he said. Bits and pieces of the night before were coming back to him now in the harsh lighting of the bathroom. He’d intended to watch some TV while 2D was napping, maybe have a few beers, but medical dramas lose their interest when someone you care about’s in the hospital. So he’d tried to watch some of his favourite soap opera The Bad, the Badder, and the Baddest,  but of course they’d been airing a special where the main character was in a coma. After that he’d given up on watching TV and had instead doubled down on drinking. One thing had led to another and then… Well, then he didn’t really remember anything except that it had been dark and a little cold.

He was still staring vacantly into the mirror when a loud bang sounded in the hallway. Before he could investigate 2D, dressed only in his pyjamas burst into the washroom looking stressed.

“Oh! Murdoc! You’re in here that’s good,” he exclaimed, looking around the bathroom wildly. Murdoc wasn’t impressed.

“What the bloody hell are you doin’ Dents?” he asked. 2D looked relieved but still antsy, wringing his hands together in front of his chest.

“W-well I woke up an’ you weren’t in bed so I came to look for you!” Murdoc wasn’t buying it.

“So what’s that got to do with you stompin’ about like a hippo in heat?” 2D flushed, suddenly more interested in the tile grout than Murdoc.

“Well, ah, after las’ night I was a bit worried about you…”

“Last night?” So something had happened between him and 2D last night. Hopefull,y nothing else endlessly embarrassing that the singer could hold over him.

2D looked confused, then sighed. “You were pretty drunk… Murdoc I found you on the roof.”

“And?”

“An’ you were gonna jump off!” 2D shouted suddenly angry. Satan, all this emotional back and forth was going to give Murdoc whiplash. Now he remembered. After he’d run out of beer he’d switched to stronger spirits to take his mind of things, but it hadn’t worked. He got into an unfortunately pensive mood and ended up on the roof where 2D must have found him. It wasn’t that big of a deal.

“I doubt it dullard, I'm sure you’re just overreactin’ as usual,” he snapped, eager to get back to the bedroom. He pushed past the lanky man and was making a beeline for his bedroom when he heard Russel’s door opening. Great, now the two of them were going to be all over him.

“What the hell is goin’ on out here?” Russel asked, looming over Murdoc. The bassist scowled and crossed his arms. Just what he fucking needed, another nosey asshole.

“2D’s been actin’ like my fuckin’ nanny all week and I damn near sick of it!” Murdoc snapped. 2D threw his hands up in frustration.

“I found him on the roof, drunk off his ass last night Russ,” he explained. Russel let out a deep sigh and turned to Murdoc.

“Murdoc… what’s goin’ on with you man?” Murdoc could feel himself getting more and more angry at his bandmates.

“What’s going on with me?! What’s going on with you? Everyone’s all in my business all the time!” 2D looked angry, his fists clenched and eyes cold. Russel looked more confused than anything.

“We’re jus’ tryin’ ta help you Murdoc! Ever since the accident, you’ve been doing all this crazy shit and we’re worried!” Stu shouted and that was the final straw. Russel stepped forward as Murdoc whirled around and stalked towards the singer.

“Newsflash, dullard! I do crazy shit all the time!”

“Shit like jumpin’ off the roof an’ ODin’ in the hospital waiting room?”

“Yes! But usually in private!” Murdoc shouted back before he could stop himself. He felt Russel come up behind him and lay a large hand on his shoulder and fought not to jump.

“OK guys, calm down and we can talk about this like adults,” he said, steering Murdoc towards the stairs. “Let's sit down in the living room and talk this out.”

Murdoc shook the hand off his shoulder and held his ground. “Fuck off, both of you, and let me get into my room. I ain’t talkin’ about shit.”

“Murdoc I really think we should ta—” Russel started but 2D interrupted him.

“We’re gonna talk about this whether you like it or not Muds,” he threatened and Murdoc was a little surprised at the firmness of his tone. Some of that dominance he’d seen the other night when they’re fucked was leaking into 2D’s everyday persona, and it was off putting.

“And since when do you get to tell me what to do, Faceache?” Murdoc growled, getting right up in Stu’s face. Stuart didn’t back down.

“Since I started havin’ to stop you from fuckin’ dying all the time!” he said, frustrated.

“Well no one asked you to!” There was a pounding in his ears and a squeezing in his chest that was building rapidly. Murdoc felt the nausea and headache from his hangover worsening and all he wanted to do was go lie down in his own bed and sleep. “I didn’t ask you to stop me Stuart I—”

“Enough you two!” Russel interrupted. “Stu go downstairs and put some coffee on, it’s too early for this shit without coffee. Murdoc, go put some clothes on and meet us downstairs in 10 minutes.”

“Rus—”

“And you best believe,” Russel said, giving Murdoc a stern look, “that I will come up here and drag you down the stairs by your ratty-ass moptop if you don’t.”

Murdoc growled and pushed past the drummer and slammed into his bedroom, not caring to look back at 2D.

“FUCK!” he shouted at the top of his voice, kicking one of the bottles on the floor into a wall. It shattered spectacularly but did nothing to make him feel better. The two men outside could probably hear but he didn’t care.

The room still smelled of vomit and it made him gag. He didn’t want to do this now, or even ever. What were they going to talk about anyways? That the fame, the women, the money? It all made him feel empty. Or how about how he’d been trying to off himself for years but had never really got it to stick? Why were they both so fixated on him when Noodle was the one in real trouble?

Whatever. Russel said he had to be downstairs in 10 minutes, but not that he had to be sober. Throwing on a probably a dirty shirt and a definitely dirty pair of jeans he used the next 8 minutes to drink as much as possible. Which was a lot.

By the time he made it down the stairs and into the living room, he was stumbling and feeling much calmer. Russel was seated on the couch with a cup of coffee in his hand and he could hear 2D bumbling around in the kitchen.

“Glad I didn’t have to drag you down here,” Russel said, eyeing the bassist over his mug. Murdoc didn’t answer and instead sauntered into the kitchen to get his own mug of caffeinated sludge.

“Oh, you actually came down,” 2D remarked as he wobbled in. Murdoc busied himself with pouring a mug without giving himself 3rd degree burns instead of answering. “Are you really givin’ me the silent treatment?”

“No.” The stream of coffee kept dodging his cup and splashing all over the countertop. 2D watched him for a few moments before sighing.

“Give it here, Murdoc. Before you waste it all.” The singer snatched the carafe and filled the mug, going so far as to add cream and sugar before handing it back. “How did you even manage to get this drunk in 10 minutes?”

“Determination,” he answered and 2D laughed a little. At least he wasn’t angry anymore.

The both wandered back into the living room and sat down. 2D sat down beside Russel and Murdoc settled into the comfy armchair Noodle usually occupied. All three men sipped coffee for a little while before Russel broke the silence.

“So uh, I think we have a lot of stuff that needs to be talked about today, that we’ve been ignorin’ for a long time. So does anyone wanna start talkin’?” The drummer looked between 2D and Murdoc.

“Nothin’ t’talk abou’,” Murdoc said, rolling his eyes. He was starting to wish he’d brought down some rum to add to his coffee. 2D sighed—he’d been doing that an awful lot recently—and set his mug down.

“Murdoc you said upstairs... Well you implied that…” 2D babbled. Russel eventually took pity on him and interrupted.

“Murdoc, what D’s tryin’ to ask is if you’ve tried to kill yourself before? And why?” With so much alcohol in his blood, the blind panic he expected to feel was muted and distant.

“Why d’you care?” he heard himself ask. Both 2D and Russel looked upset.

“We’re your friends, Muds, of course we care, I told you that the other day,” 2D said, quietly. Russel nodded in agreement.

“I know you’ve had a rough life, Murdoc, but I didn’t know you were feelin’ like this.”

Even his anger was muted. “A rough life? You don’ know t-the half of it, so fuck off tryin’ t’act like you care.” Both men on the sofa look like they were at a loss for what to do.

“What about Noodle, Murdoc? You know she loves you to death,” 2D pushed. A feeling of dread and sadness washed over Murdoc as he thought of their little girl.

“Wha’ about her? If s-she knows wha’s good for her she’ll hate me jus’ like everyone else.” Oh Satan, he didn’t mean to say all that. Maybe getting drunk wasn’t such a good idea.

Russel looked at a loss for words, but 2D stepped up. “We don’t hate you Murdoc, you’re family.” Fuck he was too drunk cause he could have sword 2D said—

“He’s right. You’ve done some shitty stuff in the past, but what family doesn’t have some skeletons in the closet?” Russel said, smiling.

“Literally, there’s a skeleton in the hall closet, I think,” 2D laughed, but Murdoc wasn’t really listening. He couldn’t focus on anything, voices slipping into and out of his mind like water through a colander. The dread from before that was breaking through the haze of alcohol and turning into full blown panic.

“N-no. It’s not like tha’. You can’ jus’...” Fuck he was getting emotional. He’d thought of the band as a family before, hell he’d outright adopted Noodle, but not since before Plastic Beach. He’d been under the assumption that ever since he’d royally cocked that whole thing up they were just putting up with him as a financial necessity. His chest hurt.

“Mate, you’re not lookin’ too good. You gonna puke?” 2D asked. Russel didn’t bother waiting for an answer and left the room, presumably to get a bucket. “Muds, what’s goin’ on mate?”

“Why d’you care ?” he asked again. It didn’t make sense, there was no way that they still thought of him like that, he’d fucked up so bad so many times.

“I told you mate, you’re family. An’ you’ve been doin’ a lot better since we got here, you don’t really hit me or nothin’.” Because he’d been spending all his time away from the band. Away from them so they couldn’t leave him first. He dropped his head in his hands.

“S’not tha’ easy…” It couldn’t be. But 2D shook his head.

“No, it isn’t. There’s still a lot of stuff we gotta deal with but… well we can try to deal with it, if you wanna.” He did, sort of. Losing the only thing he’d ever had that was even close to a family wasn’t something he wanted. But he didn’t know where to start, or how to even try. There wasn’t enough air, he couldn’t breath, he couldn’t breath . 2D noticed and jumped up.

“Oh shit, Murdoc calm down mate,” Stu said, coming to stand in front of the bassist. Murdoc wanted to tell him to fuck off but he couldn’t fucking breath. Thoughts flew through his head at a mile a minute; maybe they’d forgive him maybe he had a chance, how could he be so stupid , this was all some sick prank.

“Hey! Murdoc, look at me ok, jus’ take some slow breaths. Breath with me, ok?” 2D was kneeling in front of him now, he could feel the singer’s body heat. He pressed the palms of his hands harder against his eyes, rubbing hard enough to see stars and for 2D to grab at them.

“Murdoc, jus’ look at me alrigh’?” Murdoc did, ever movement feeling like a struggle. He didn’t have control of his body right now, and it took every ounce of strength to meet 2D’s pupiless stare. “Jus’ like me, in, an’ out, ahhhhhhhh.”

2D held his hands in a light grasp, his long fingers twiddling and fidgeting against Murdoc’s own. He focused on that; it helped.

“Good! You’re doin’ good Muds. It’s gonna be ok,” 2D cooed and Murdoc wanted to hit him so badly.

“S-shut up,” he gasped and 2D nodded, but didn’t let go. Secretly grateful, Murdoc tried to breath through the waves of anxiety. His busted nose didn’t exactly lend itself to even breathing, so he panted through his mouth. By the time Russel came back with a bucket, his breathing was steadier and more controlled.

“Everythin’ all right in here?” Russel asked and 2D let go of Murdoc’s hands to turn around.

“Yeah Rus, I don’ think we need that bucket though.”2D sat back down on the couch and Russel followed. Were they going to start up again with the 3rd degree? Murdoc didn’t think he could handle any more questions.

“OK, well,” Russel paused and took a sip of his now cold coffee. Murdoc did the same, wetting his throat in anticipation of more questions, “maybe we should talk about this again tomorrow after we visit Noodle.”

“Wait what?” Murdoc asked, confused enough to push through the ebbing anxiety and speak up.

“The doctors said we could go and visit Noodle tomorrow! I was tryin’ to tell you that las’ night!.” 2D said excitedly. Murdoc’s ansixty began to ramp back up.

“Is she awake?” he asked. Russel shook his head.

“No, they aren’t gonna wake her up yet but they said if we were real quiet and didn’t stay too long we could go see her.” That made him feel conflicted. It wasn’t good that Noodle was still in a coma, far from it, but as long as she was still out she couldn’t disown him.

“O-OK,” Murdoc breathed. “If we’re done here I’m gonna—”

“Jus’ one more thing Muds,” 2D interrupted, looking nervous. “Russ and me were talkin’ and, well, we don’t think you should be alone too much after the las’ couple incidents.”

Murdoc wanted to be angry but he was just tired. He hadn’t even been awake for 2 hours yet and already he wanted to crawl back into bed with a bottle and finish the day. “Whatever, jus’ don’ bug me.”

Both Russel and 2D looked relieved that he hadn’t put up more of a fight. “We’ll try not to Muds,” Russel answered and Murdoc rolled his eyes.

“Are we done now? ” Murdoc asked. 2D and Russel shared a look but they nodded and Murdoc got up, stumbling. “Then I’m goin’ back t’bed.” 2D followed him. Satan was he going to have to deal with the dullard trailing after him everywhere? Russel stayed where he was, turning back to his coffee and the TV.

Murdoc ignored the singer and climbed the staircase slowly and with an iron grip on the bannister. He could feel the idiot close behind him, hovering, but he tried to focus on the goal: sleep. When he made it to the landing he walked as quickly as he could to his bedroom, leaving the door open behind him. 2D walked in not seconds later and idled in the middle of the room.

“Well, do whatever you wan’, I’m sleepin,” Murdoc mumbled, falling face first into the bed. The pillow 2D had been sleeping on was right under his nose, and he inhaled the faint smell of butterscotch and weed that clung to the singer. Speaking of, Murdoc felt the bed dip and 2D make himself comfortable, not laying down but sitting up against the headboard.

“Have a good sleep Muds,” he said, but Murdoc was already half conscious. His last thought was that he should probably tell 2D to empty the puke bucket he’d left beside the bed, but sleep claimed him before he could get a word out.

[neganandblake]

I think I liked you better when you didn’t have a knife in your hand, Peaches... Chapter 137 - A Run Out

When Blake finds herself sold out to the Saviours by her abusive fiancé, she realises that she's certainly not on her own anymore and finds an unlikely friend in Negan. And Negan does NOT like men who beat their girlfriends, one tiny bit….

MASTERLIST

Chapter 137 - A run out

[Negan wakes up to find Blake and Mia are gone. But when he finally runs into the blonde woman, she has a request for him.]

Then next morning, Negan awoke to find the bed beside him empty of the two girls he normally shared with.

He let out a grizzled sort-of huff into his pillow before easing himself up onto elbows and staring around.

He had had a surprisingly good sleep and didn't remember being woken even once during the night, but he saw no sign of either Blake or Mia now, lifting his hand and running it down his sleepy face.

“Peaches?” he called out, wondering if maybe she was in the bathroom next-door, but there came no reply.

It was so like her to just disappear without telling him where she was going. She was a pain in his ass like that, but he still liked that about her. She was like a goddamn constant challenge to him. Keeping him on his toes, whether he liked it or not.

Giving a groan, Negan pushed himself from the bed and ambled into the bathroom, running his hand through his dark, mussed-up hair as he went.

He switched on the light and moved over to the washbasin, grabbing his toothbrush from the plastic tumblr beside Blake's, getting down to brushing his teeth, gazing at his reflection in the mirror above the sink as he did so.

Negan had truly never thought he would slot back in to this kind of life again.

After Lucille he had resumed his bachelor ways, fulfilling every fantasy he had with a near endless string of woman along the way. But that had soon become tiring and even the excitement of sleeping with a different woman every night had quickly become stale and boring.

For it was a life like this he had truly yearned for a long time.

Having a fucking family.

Something real.

And Blake had given him that.

Sure it had taken them a long long time to get here, but they had. And every moment of happiness she gave to him, made all the pain and sadness of everything else, worth it.

Negan finished up at the washbasin, stripping swiftly out of his boxers before heading over towards the large tiled shower at the far end of the large bathroom.

And within ten minutes he was out again,  shrugging on his leather jacket over a white t-shirt and grey pants, and grasping up Lucille.

But Negan had barely made it across the room, heading towards the door, when it was swiftly shoved open…..and in walked Blake, eating an apple.

Negan grinned at the sight, immediately cocking an eyebrow up at her. “Early bird catches the fuckin’ worm, huh?” he commented, as Blake gave him a smile in return.

She looked in a far better mood than yesterday, which of course might have had something to do with the tension-relieving fun they had had in that bathtub last night.

“I don't know about a worm,” she smirked. “But I got us breakfast.”

And with that, she tossed him a second apple, which the dark-haired man promptly caught, grinning as he did so.

“You seem pretty fuckin’ chipper this mornin’, Doll-face,” he growled lifting his chin a  little and gazing at her. “My fingers really do that good of a job last night?”

Blake offered him a smile at his words. “Oh most definitely,” she purred, walking over towards him now, her free hand reaching up and toying with the zipper on his leather jacket.

Negan narrowed his chocolate eyes at her.

Yeah, granted, his performance, as always, had been pretty fucking impressive, but Blake was certainly in a better mood than she had been in a  while.

“Beansprout, alright?” he asked in a bemused voice, staring down at her.

But the blonde woman just smiled.

“Yeah she seems much better today,” she replied, with a small, contented sigh. “Tanya and Michelle have already collected her. They're making princess crowns. Mia’s already decided.”

Negan quickly chuckled at the sheer cockiness of the three year old toddler.

“That mean I get Mamma-bear all my damn self today?” he uttered nudging her nose with his.

But Blake's lips curved into a wide grin at his words, as she pulled her face away from his a little teasingly, pursing her lips together, as if thinking hard.

“You can…..” she said slowly, her eyes peering up at his. “But maybe not here.”

A frown twitched its way between Negan’s eyebrows, but Blake spoke again before he could question her.

“Listen, we’ve not exactly been on the same page lately,  and with everything that’s happened, Mia coming back, me...well…” she reached down placing a hand to her stomach. “Well, we haven’t really had much time together. Just you and me. And I thought it might be good to get away from the stress of this place. Even if it's just for the day.”

Negan stared at her.

“Oh yeah?” he said, a little taken a aback. She had obviously been thinking on this for a while. “An’ where exactly were you thinking?”

But Blake just smiled and shrugged, coming to rest both her arms over his shoulders, as his, still holding onto both Lucille and his apple, slid their way up her slender sides.

“I don’t know. Anywhere.” she murmured, wrinkling her nose lightly. “Just somewhere we can get away from everything...just for a few hours. I’ve been a hormonal bitch this last week or so,  and I want to make it up to you.”

He could hear the hint of pleading in her voice, her obviously knowing that after his actions yesterday he was likely to say no.

Ok, Negan had been a hard-ass. But it was only because he wanted to keep the woman he loved, carrying his baby, safe.

But he understood now that she needed her own breathing space. And being cooped up her wasn't good for either of their sanities.

The pair of them had been arguing a lot lately. Mainly about the smallest and most petty of things, and as much as Negan knew that that that type of shit was normal in any fucking relationship, it still sucked-fucking-ass. Totally and utterly.

He missed the good old days when it was just the two of them pissing the other off,  with the only reason behind it being because they wanted to. And not because either of them were scared, or worried, or frustrated for any reason.

“So….what do you think?” Blake asked him hopefully, tilting her head to the side and causing her long blonde hair to trail down one shoulder. “Daddy up for taking me out on a road trip?”

Negan was silent for a lengthy moment before the corners of his bearded mouth suddenly twitched up into a wide grin.

“Oh most fuckin’ definitely,” he said grinning. “As long as Momma is up for givin’ Daddy a damn blow job in the front of his fuckin’ truck, we are good to. fuckin’. go.”

He watched, chuckling, as Blake rolled her eyes.

“Hmm, well we’ll have to see about that one…” she purred with a smile, giving him a sudden sharp, yet playful, shove away from her, before heading over towards their closet.

Of course half her shit was here now, outfits tangled in with his. Not that he minded that one little bit.

“Alright then, well I guess I’d better go get loadin’ shit up, seein’ as the damn queen’s given her orders,” said Negan in a goading voice, giving a faux-heavy sigh, as Blake opened the closet door and stared at him in the reflection in the full length mirror hanging inside the door.

“Just make sure you pack some tomatoes for lunch for me,” she said pulling out a black sweater.

But Negan waved an easy hand at her.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he sighed. “Can’t keep Peaches from her damn cravings now can I?”

But Blake merely smirked in his direction, as Negan turned on his heel chuckling again before taking a big bite of his apple and heading swiftly out the door, shutting it closed behind him with a small snap.

……………………………………………………………..

“You off somewhere, Boss?”

Almost a half hour later and Negan, who had been standing outside in the drizzly lots that surrounded the Sanctuary, was loading not only Lucille, but an entire range of numerous weapons into one of the nicer pickup trucks.

Negan knew that if they were going out there, then there was no way he was letting his guard down. Not for one goddamn second. Not with Blake carrying his goddamn offspring inside of her.

And sure he wasn’t stupid enough to vocalise his worry for her out loud again, not knowing how much it irritated the hell out of her. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t gonna keep a close eye on any fucker, dead or alive, who tried to cross them out there.

Negan quickly swung around on his booted- heel to see Simon stroking towards him, thumbs hooked through his belt loops as he surveyed the leader of the Saviours and the shiny dark blue truck behind him.

“Peaches, wants to go grab some fresh air,” he replied stiffly. “An’ I, not bein’ fuckin’ idiotic enough to argue with a pregnant lady, have agreed to escort her outta here for the day.”

Simon offered him a chuckle.

Negan knew it wasn't often that he was seen leaving his people, especially without an entire damn convoy of Saviours to back him up anyway. But he would make an acception on this occasion. And he knew the place would run smoothly without him here. For today at least.

“I’ll be takin’ my radio, so if shit just happens to hit the fan while I’m gone,” he continued. “Make sure you call me. Do not leave me hangin’, Si, you understandin’ me?”

Negan stared at his tall and mustachioed right-hand man for a long moment, pursing his bearded lips together.

He and Simon had had their moments in the past, and on a few occasions Simon had tried to take the lead from Negan. Tried to be the bigger fucking badass. But he had soon learned his place was at Negan’s side. Although Negan still needed to remind him of that from time to take, pushing him back into line.

But on this occasion, to Negan’s relief, Simon gave a prompt nod of his head.

“Loud and clear,” he said obediently. “But if I were you, Boss, I’d go west if you’re taking your gal out. The outposts tell me they’ve seen people from the Hilltop and Rick’s place, scouting as far north as Haley Ridge-”

“An’ I don’ wanna be runnin’ into any of those cock-suckers and their goddamn fuckin’ vendettas now do I?” Negan cut in, clenching his jaw.

Running into anyone else today and risking Blake and his unborn kid’s life was not particularly high on his list of priorities for today, so Negan knew he should take Simon’s advice and head west instead.

He clapped his second in command on the shoulder proudly, lifting his chin, just as a sudden figure appeared just behind the mustachioed man.

“So I’ve got bottled water, snacks, a gun-“ said Blake suddenly strutting over towards them, dressed now in a navy jacket throw over a black sweater and jeans, her long blonde hair tossed over one shoulder as she looked down into the pack she carried in her hands.

But at her words Negan leant right back on his long legs, eyeing her.

“Now where’d the FUCK you get a gun from, Peaches?” he said in a loud voice,  almost marvelling at her.

Fuck, she really did have the fucking run of this place didn’t she?

“What? You think I don’t have access to your guns cache?” she said narrowing her eyes at him. “I’m having your baby, Negan. I own half of your shit now.”

And there it was- the reason he fucking loved her.

Negan whined out a laugh, as she moved to the pickup truck, shoving her pack onto the passenger seat through the open window.

“Yeah you fuckin’ do, Darlin,” the dark- haired Saviour muttered. “But I guess that mean that I own half of this too-“

And with that, he suddenly grabbed her round jean-clad ass and gave it a hard squeeze, causing her to jump on the spot, shooting him a look.

Her eyes darted to Simon in embarrassment.

“Ouch….Negan….” she reprimanded with a mumble, rubbing at her sore ass cheek, as he retracted his hand with a throaty chuckle.

But at their side Simon gave a grin of his own, nodding at the pair of them.

“Have fun,” he said before turning around and sauntering back over towards the large looming factory buildings just as the rain began to fall a little heavier all around them.

Negan watched as Blake looked skyward, suddenly looking disappointed.

“Oh….no…..I thought we could have a picnic or something….damn it….” She whispered.

But Negan nudged her, strolling around to the drivers side of the truck and pointing at her with a gloved finger.

“Well that’s your fuckin’ fault for bein’ too damn optimistic, Doll-face,” he said curtly. “An’ I don’t think any sort of fuckin’ picnic out there is gonna be very relaxin’ with those dead pricks on our tail the entire time.”

But Blake shrugged, pulling open the passenger side door.

“You’re probably right,” she mumbled letting out a heavy sigh. “I was just thinking of something romantic.”

But Negan’s gave a huff of his own, as they both hopped into the pickup, slamming the doors closed behind them.

“Well, y’know,” said Negan offering her a poignant look and turning the key in the ignition. “If its romance you’re lookin’ for, like I said, I am still up for you blowin’ me in the front seat, Darlin’.”

And with that he gave a grin gesturing to the space between his legs.

Blake, of course, gave an immediate roll of her eyes at this, leaning her elbow against the passenger side door.

“Ugh, now who’s being optimistic. And I don’t think getting down on my knees for you while your driving is really gonna help with my morning sickness,” she said pressing a hand to her temples and rubbing away some excess rain water that lingered there.

The engine spluttered into life as Negan quirked an eye at her for the smallest of moments.

“That why you were up so early this mornin’?” he asked sounding a little concerned.

But Blake just looked back at him, smiling softly.

“Partly, but Mia was up and getting a little fussy anyway…” she said gently.

Negan’s eyes searched Blake’s face now, as rain began to hammer down upon the windscreen before them.

He knew how fucking tiring this must be for her and that was probably a good fucking excuse for her rattiness towards him this last couple of weeks.

But as though reading his mind, Blake looked at him with those big green eyes of hers. And for a moment Negan was transported back to that first time, out there on the road together, in the front of that van on that rainy night.

He had had a fucking soft spot for her back then, but he hadn’t fucking realised that this would be the woman that would be carrying his child. His fucking kid.

She was truly fucking incredible. And he was truly in awe of how far they had fucking come.

But Blake looked at him a little sadly now, shifting in her seat.

“I’m sorry,” she said suddenly her voice earnest. “For being such a pain the the ass these last few days.”

Negan blinked at her now, but she continued before he could say anything.

“I think I’m just a little anxious…” she confessed, pulling at a thread on the sleeve of her jacket absentmindedly. “A-After those miscarriages and after David….well, I just didn’t think I’d ever get the chance to be pregnant again. And it’s all happened just so fast…”

Negan stared back at Blake now, with hard eyes, as she trailed off, her gaze falling into her lap.

“You havin’ second thoughts?” he asked, lifting his chin slightly, and feeling his chest constrict.

But at once Blake shook her head, her eyes reaching his once again.

“No. Not at all,” she said hurriedly. “I just…”

Rain hammered down on the roof of the truck.

“I’m happy…” she said her face suddenly full of hope. “But I guess I’m not used to feeling like this. Having you, having Mia, having a baby...I guess I’m just scared of being too happy….in case it all falls apart again. I-I can’t lose you...o-or Mia again. I just can’t. And I’m sorry if I’ve been pushing you away. I know that all you’ve done is care about me. But I’ve just not been talking to you...I-I’ve not been talking to anyone…”

Negan knew she was right.

He could see the fear in her eyes sometimes when she obviously thought no one was looking.

He had chalked it down to annoyance with him, obviously raising her hackles the moment he brought it up.

But Negan with one hand on the steering wheel, merely stared at her now.

“You ain’t gonna lose us Peaches,” he said with a meaningful growl. “I ain’t fuckin’ goin’ anywhere. And all I fuckin’ want is for you not to have the goddamn weight of the world on your shoulders. Look, we’ve got a long few fuckin’ months ahead of us, an’ hell, I ain’t got a fuckin’ clue what I’m doin’, but you’ve gotta realise that you ain’t alone. An’ I am gonna be right here, day or fuckin’ night.”

He grinned at her,  licking his lips now as he continued, cocking his dark head to the side.

“If you want a run out, I’ll get you a fuckin’ run out. If you want a damn foot rub at 2am, then you just wake me up, Sweetheart. An’ hell, if you want fresh tomatoes from that damn garden of yours, then I will go down there an’ fuckin’ pick them for you.”

At his words, Blake smiled, her hand moving over her abdomen lovingly.

“Thanks, baby,” she said in a soft and gracious voice.

But Negan, smirking, merely reached his hand out and grabbed for hers, before pulling it to his lips and pressing a kiss to her smooth knuckles.

“Don’ mention it, Peaches,” he eased out in a low voice. “Although I’m gonna take back what I said about goin’ into that damn garden and pickin’ tomatoes for you. Hell, I’ve got a reputation to uphold, an’ I don’t want my people seeing me as a mother-fuckin’ goddamn farmer.”

Blake gave a small laugh, now, shaking her head.

“Oh I don’t know…” she purred. “I could see you dressed in a flannel shirt and some gardening gloves, on your knees, gettin’ all down and dirty.”

But Negan just grinned back at her now, as he gave a single shake of his own dark head, pressing his foot onto the gas driving the truck out of the lot.

“Nu-Uh. Not in a million fuckin’ years, Sweetheart.”

(Gif credit belongs to the owners.)

@collette04 | @attorneyl | @charoly | @princessmoonspunky | @mssharingisfun | @shimmerybutt | @yellatthetopofyourlungs | @daydreamsandchai | @onemorebeautifulnightmare | @arwa-alii | @letsdosciencekids | @maggiesourie | @blumenkind72 | @toloaughistolove | @alonna-oxoxox | @brebre149 | @baked-potatoes| @elinyaes | @jmackie1983 | @starbabysparkle | @christynjay | @mwesterfeld1985 | @letseatandsleep | @xxqueenofisolationxx| @lovesjdm | @uselessdarylblog | @soursuckers | @padmeisgay| @waddiwasi44 | @karlbourbonismyhero | @lfsbitencourt | @toxic-ink | @laaadygisbooornex3 | @cutiedaij| @warriorqueen1991 |                     @ask-kakashihatake | @haybuggle88 |  @beast-by-name | @cutiedaij | @ourtenderescapes   | @itstheamandashow | @side-xix-men | @adriannawiggins  | @dessie | @ariannaroba97| @ivanna6026 | @soythedemonqueen | @lovelynerdytraveler | @joelssmugglingservice | @rissbennett | @kourtneyxgirl | @sophiestru24 | @intensemindorgasms | @jenn0755 | @nerdygirlwithacrush | @ali-in-fandomland | @littlesiskitten | @spn-mudkip | @neganismyobsession | @ryantherandomhero | @masterpiece222 | @neganslilbitch | @theofficialduke | @i-fallapart  | @xagateophobiax | @nu1freakshow | @simplysirius | @negan5589 | @blondielovesr5-blog | @ididntchoosethislife | @iashleyhood | @andreainfla618 | @yezzyzzz | @teaspent | @jessiellong1987 | @likearaindropfilledwithgoldust | @kristenallison04 | @vanilla-negan | @simplysiriuslyjoking @shannmiw | @jamespotterisbae | @qhbr2013 | @uncharte-dlove | @nerdaspe | @thedeadwalks | @pizzaisrelationshipgoals| @kalista225 | @saved-by-fiction | @nerdywriter| @hayleighloatx | @miss-cap21 | @julietdanielle08 | @teamnegansaviors | @getlowharold | @christynjay | @haileyk2601 | @peoplealwaysleave89 | @nyakozhovur  | @theunwantedwriter | @kateyasher | @myrabbitholetoneverland| @topthis808 | @aenuloracaeram | @depressed-teenagekids | @curlyhairedblueeyedangel | @band–psycho | @edbabygrl86 | @artisticlales | @messybitch802 | @itstotalyblue | @luciferandaleks | @queenofthesole | @athena1504 | @sighsophiia | @make-things-beautiful2 | @lynn1712 | @thamberlina | @batmanlover1593 | @jdmsgal | @queenslandlover-93 | @neganrpblog | @michellevalvona | @roguesandsaviors

[albionscastle]

First Impressions 7 - New Friends and Old Enemies

I’m writing slowly but I am writing!!!! I’m working two jobs right now so updates will be slow, but still coming.

There brief mentions of domestic violence, past, in this chapter.

Disclaimer: I actually really like Zac Efron but I thought he had the perfect look to be a Wickham character so there we go. 

FIC MASTERLIST

FIRST IMPRESSIONS 7

NEW FRIENDS AND OLD ENEMIES

LIZZIE

Colin Ryan being back in town was an unexpected and decidedly unpleasant turn of events. It had been 3 years since she’d last seen him, hightailing it out of town after she’d threatened to expose his true nature. She still shivered in fear when she thought about that last day with him, how she’d finally gathered the courage to leave, the bruises on his ribs a stark reminder of his temper. Oh, he’d slapped her, pulled her hair, screamed in her face, but for the first time she’d felt strong, strong enough to get out. With all the proof she’d gathered there was nothing that he could do except let her go and get out of town.

She’d dealt with the fallout for a year, the gossip and the finger pointing, the bill that Colin’s parents had stuck her with for the wedding, not to mention the constant lamenting of her mother. The only person to ever know what had really happened was Maya, and as far as anyone else was concerned, well it was none of their fucking business.

Though now she knew for a fact that Lydia had known about it all along and after the incident with Colin the day before she was pretty sure that Jack and Tom had cottoned on to it too. She had shrunk, all her strength had gone until the moment Jack had taken her hand. Disgusted with herself and stunned at his thoughtfulness, Lizzie had spent the whole night tossing and turning, unable to quiet her thoughts, even with her medication.

Tiptoeing into the kitchen, she passed Maya and Lydia sound asleep on the couches. For all the issues Lyds had, she was staunchly loyal to her sisters and had been able to make her laugh. Waking her before 9am however merely guaranteed you a slew of obscenities and a bitchy mood for the rest of the day, didn’t matter who you were. Maya, though, woke to the smell of the coffee maker, shuffling into the kitchen quietly.

“How are you doing, Lizzie?”

Lizzie shrugged, taking another sip of her Death Wish under her sister’s disapproving eye.

“I didn’t sleep much.”

“Drinking that crap won’t help. Did you take your meds?”

“Yes, mom, I did.” Lizzie rolled her eyes and kept sipping her coffee.

Maya was definitely the only one, other than her doctor, who knew about that. Lizzie even went so far as to have her prescription filled at the next town over, just so no one could add to the gossip. There was still so much stigma attached to her condition and the cause of it that it was best just to stay quiet.

“I’m sure he won’t be here long.”

“I don’t understand why he’s here at all. His parents moved away, retired to Aspen or some such shit. There’s absolutely no reason for him to be here.”

Maya nodded sympathetically, getting up to raid the fridge.

“Knowing that jerk I’m sure we’ll know sooner rather than later. But we aren’t going to let him get to us, right Liz?”

“Don’t worry about me, Maya. It was a shock seeing him yesterday, but now I know he’s here I can handle it. I won’t let him get to me again.”

“I’ll fucking kick him in the nuts if he ever comes near you again.” Lydia muttered, dragging herself  over to the coffee machine.

“Language Lydia!”

“Bite me Maya.”

“Stop it you two.” Lizzie muttered.

After breakfast, which was more pleasant than expected with Lydia full of caffeine, they finished a rough draft of her paper and attempted to talk some sense into her about her wardrobe. As always it was a waste of time, but Lizzie would never stop trying.

They were meeting mary and Kate for lunch at the park, the first time all the sisters had been together since Kate’s birthday party. Mary’s job and the band meant she rarely left the city and kate had been kept fairly cloistered since she entered the convent, only able to communicate through letters. Lizzie missed them both terribly and unashamedly cried when she hugged Kate, looking both like a child and a grown up in her brown habit, her eyes as big and serious as ever.

“You look happy Katie.” Lizzie whispered, not willing to let her sister go.

“I am happy, Lizzie. The convent is so peaceful and we do so much outreach. It’s perfect for me.”

Kate, or Sister Mary Kate as she would soon be known, was the center of attention. From the city Mary was in contact almost daily, especially with Maya who went to class close to where she worked. Seeing her was a happy extension of the texts and calls that were normal. Her girlfriend was a little hesitant at first, but Kate was ecstatic to meet her and quickly erased her fears of being accepted. It was just perfect, sitting on their blankets, eating and talking, just the 6 of them. Any residual ill feeling that Lizzie had about Colin was swept away in the balm of her sisters.

A soccer ball suddenly flew towards them, expertly caught by kate before it could destroy their picnic. Hot on it’s heels was a man, shirtless and so well built that even katie was gawking open mouthed.

“Sorry ladies, it just got away from me.” His perfect white smile spread across his face as he took in each of the girls in turn.

For her part, Lizzie had never seen a more gorgeous man her whole life. He turned that megawatt smile onto her and she couldn’t help but respond in kind, her cheeks flushing as he looked her up and down before holding out his hand.

“Hi, name’s Brad, Grad Wick.”

JACK

Jack couldn’t sleep, he was still wide awake at 2am, his brain refusing to shut off. He tossed and turned, kicking the blankets off then pulling them up again. He warmed milk in the tiny suite microwave and even counted sheep, but nothing worked. Every time he closed his eyes all he could see was Elizabeth cowering in front of Colin Ryan.

It pissed him off.

If there was one thing he hated it was men who abused women. It didn’t matter which woman, he abhorred it. Had Caro come to him saying she’d been hit he would have felt the same way, despite how much he disliked her. There was no excuse for violence in a relationship and least of all against someone as small as Elizabeth Bennet. He didn’t even want to imagine the extent of the abused, but his mind of course had other ideas. Instead of sleeping he’d been he’d been laying there while increasingly worse scenarios had flashed in his head.

With a 5 am call time he decided there was no use in trying to sleep any longer. He stumbled out to the bathroom, hanging his head under the cold shower spray to try and clear the cobwebs. What the fuck was wrong with him lately? Honestly this shoot couldn’t be over quickly enough in his opinion, he needed to get home, walk the glenns and get his shit together. He was a grown man, successful, in demand and yet this one bloody woman had managed to derail his peace of mind. It didn’t matter how pretty, smart or nice she was, they were from two different worlds. When he left Indiana in November he would never see her again.

The twinge he felt in his chest at that thought was something he was going to ignore.

She’d hugged him though, held his hand.

He tried to tell himself it was just the situation, that she would have done the same with Tom. The part of him that he wanted to shut up disagreed, that traitorous voice was telling him that Elizabeth might actually like him. They were both adults and maybe her prickliness was just a product of her former relationship. He just had to be….less aggressive, more….

“Don be an eejit.” he muttered as he dressed. “The last thing ye need is a fuckin woman complicatin the shite outa things.”

Lizzie wasn’t a roll in the hay type of woman and that’s all he wanted. One and done, no complications, no emotions, no phone calls, no nothing. He’d vowed he’d never let another woman close after Lisa and he needed to keep to that. No distracting redheads. He would be polite and nothing more.

If he ended each day imagining how good she might feel beneath him, or astride him, her hair falling around them both, then so be it. Taking himself in hand was infinitely preferable to the fallout that would come from being intimately involved with a Bennet.

Determined, and his mind made up, Jack was feeling a lot better when he arrived on set. Even Caro had backed off enough that he didn't dread being at work anymore, all he had to do was get through the next six weeks and he’d be home. There were any number of discrete, gorgeous women he could entice to bed if he wanted. By Christmas all this bullshit would be in the past.

“Jack!” Tom was trotting to catch up with him as he left the set for the day. “Do you want to do for a run?”

Jack was pretty sure that Tom’s new love of running was based more on necessity than a desire to exercise. With the lovely Maya no longer sharing his bed every night, the lad needed to run off all that sexual frustration.

And so did he if he was completely honest.

The late September weather was a welcome relief from the sweltering heat of July and August in Indiana and Jack barely broke a sweat as they jogged around the lakefront park. His endorphins had him feeling much better and the physical exercise would certainly ensure a good night’s sleep.

“Hold up mate!” Tom panted, bending over to catch his breath.

“Ye ain’t givin up already are ye lad?”

“Just give me a second old man.” Tom groaned. “Not all of us have your stamina.”

“Hence why ye still have the body of a teenage boy.”

“Shut it Angel Face.”

Jack winced slightly, apparently some fans had likened his unshaven face to something like a cherub and Tom hadn’t let it go since. His aversion to the comparison was a constant source of delight to Tom, who seemed to love nothing more than getting under his skin.

Snarky cunt.

He pushed Tom a little further before taking pity on him and slowing to a walk. The park was full of people, families picnicking and using the playgrounds, couples walking hand in hand. If he felt a twinge of envy, he quickly shoved it down deep. Alone was better, alone was safe.

“Tom! Jack!” Lydia’s loud call couldn’t be ignored and he groaned inwardly as Tom trotted off in the direction of the Bennet sisters.

All five of them were there, but Jack saw only one. Elizabeth sat, leaning on her elbows and laughing at the man who sat with them. He had never seen her smile like that at him, in fact he was pretty sure this was the first time he’d ever seen her really laugh.

His gut twisted.

Tom was already sitting down, an arm around Maya, commenting on Mary’s tattoo. Kate, the novice nun, smiled warmly at him and he moved closer. The memory of Elizabeth’s hand in his bolstered him, even though she was no longer laughing. He raised a hand in greeting, getting a curt nod in response.

“How are ye all doin?” Jack was about to sit down when the breath was knocked out of him in shock.

The man beside Elizabeth turned and Jack felt himself freeze, anger and disgust rolling through him.

What the fuck was that piece of shit doing there?

He looked at Elizabeth who seemed confused, then at Bradley Wick who sat there smirking, daring him to say something.

That would have been a mistake.

Instead he turned, without saying a word, and walked away.

LIZZIE

He really was a rude bastard. She watched as Jack walked away, a stunned looking Tom hot on his heels. Just when she thought there was a slight that she might have misjudged him, he had just merely reinforced her dislike of him.

Arrogant, uptight assclown.

“Nice to see some things never change.” Brad remarked wryly from beside her.

“You know Jack?”

“Shit, I’ve known him since drama school. He was just as big a cock back then.”

Lizzie’s eyes narrowed, something in Jack’s eyes had seemed deeply shocked when he’d seen Brad. there was definitely more to this story.

“Bastard never liked me. Too full of himself to pay attention to lowly nobodies like me.” Brad laughed quietly.

“Seems like there might be some history there.” Lizzie cautiously, curious despite herself.

“You noticed that did you?”

“Kinda hard not to.”

Brad’s handsome face looked sad as he took a deep breath. Lizzie instantly felt sorry for him, having a feeling that what he was about to say hurt him.

“Jack was a year behind me at drama school, we met when we were both going out for a play. He seemed like a great guy, until I got the part instead of him. Then he found out that I’d grown up in an orphanage in Leeds. After that he did everything he could to ruin me. He’s talented, don’t get me wrong, I would have been more than happy to share roles, but no. It escalated in his second year, he was cast as my understudy in a play. It just got worse until eventually he got me fired, he stashed coke in my dressing room. I had a record from when I was a teen so when he told the director, well I was done. I got booted out of school for that too. Jack ended up with an agent and a slew of offers.”

“That’s awful.” Lizzie admitted.

She honestly hadn’t imagined that Jack was that much of a prick.

“I made do.” Brad shrugged. “He was young, insecure, and a lot of people do worse in our line of work.”

“That doesn’t make it right!” Lizzie sputtered. “Was that the last time you had contact?”

“I wish.” Brad murmured, looking at the ground. “I ran into him again last year on set. He didn’t recognize me at first, not for a few weeks. The girl he was with, Lisa, sweet girl. He treated her like shit, I found her crying one day and sat with her, he saw me with her and dragged her off. Next day I saw her getting in the cab to leave, her lip was all busted. I was fired the same day.”

Lizzie felt sick to her stomach, her head spinning. It was worse than she’d ever imagined, she never would have thought that he was violent. A vision of him standing beside her the day before, facing off Colin, came unbidden. The fucking nerve of him! To act like that when he’d done the exact same thing himself!

Her stomach protested for the rest of the afternoon as she fought to engage with her family. Brad had left soon after Jack, apologetic and charming. He’d offered to take her to dinner, something she’d rain-checked. What she wanted to do was to talk to Maya, to try and process what she’d just heard.

After they’d visited their parents and Lizzie had been forced to listen to her mother informing her that she’d run into ‘dear Colin’ at the store, she finally managed to take Maya aside, imparting everything she’d learned from Brad. She’d been as shocked as expected, her eyes wide as Lizzie spoke.

“I always thought he was just prickly.” Maya gasped. “Figured he would warm up eventually.”

“As if, he’s been a dick since the day we met him.”

Maya looked thoughtful as Lizzie paced back and forth in a tizzy.

“I can’t believe the fucking nerve of him. Where does he get off acting like he’s so much better than everyone else? It makes me sick Maya.”

“Maybe Brad was mistaken?”

“I doubt it Maya.” Lizzie snapped. “The guy was practically in tears when he was done. What possible reason could he have to lie?”

“I didn’t say lie, Lizzie, but maybe Jack wasn’t responsible for all his bad luck.”

Lizzie leveled her sister with a hard glare, she really was naive at times.

“You can’t talk him out of this one Mai, you just can’t. He hit his girlfriend!”

“Yeah, I guess you really can’t argue with that. But what about Tom? Why would he be his friend?”

“I’ll bet any amount of money that Tom has no idea. Jack’s an actor, he can make himself into anyone he wants.”

“What do we do?”

“Nothing. He’ll be gone in a few weeks. Just don’t expect me to have anything to do with the asshole. I love Tom to death, but not even for you will I associate with an abuser.

“I understand. I’m just so sorry this happened.”

“I’m not, because now we know the truth of what he is.”

Even Maya couldn’t see the good in him now, and she was the one who liked everyone. By the time Lizzie got back to the apartment she’d apologized several times in text for sticking up for him. It didn’t matter, she thought sourly as she sat in her living room window, she never had to see him again unless she chose to. She was just grateful she’d found out now, instead of after she’d invited him to lunch to say thank you. He didn’t deserve a thank you, he deserved to be outed. Why Brad never had she understood, Lisa was an actress and he’d wanted to spare her the scandal. Besides Jack probably wouldn’t hesitate to ruin them both if the truth was even so much as hinted at. As much as Lizzie wanted everyone to know what a creep he was, she wouldn’t do that to Brad.

“How did everything get so fucked up?” she sighed, realising for the first time how utterly unsatisfied she was with everything.

Her life had been in a holding pattern since she’d called off the wedding and if Brad could overcome what he had then there was nothing to stop her.

It was time to stop being afraid to live.

JACK

Bradley Wick! Just when he thought he’d seen the last of the cunt here he was, as always, just in the shadows of his life. Everywhere he’d stepped in the last decade Wick was there, at least in his mind. The bastard haunted him, the mistake of attempting to be the man’s friend and co-worker was something he lived with everyday.

Seeing him with Elizabeth made his blood boil, it was as if the man knew exactly who would hurt him the most and that’s who he targeted. The only reason he’d walked away was so the ladies didn’t have to witness him pounding Wick into a pulp. That and the assault charge stemming from that would ruin his career. Brad would of course come out smelling like roses, just like he always did.

“Jack, mate. Are you going to tell me what that was about?”

“Nope.” he took a shot of whiskey, weighing up the pros and cons of just drinking from the bottle.

“Seriously man, I’m worried. I’ve not seen you like this before.”

“I’m fine Tom.” another shot. “I have history with Bradley Wick, thas all. None of it good.”

“That’s all I’m going to get?”

“Yup.” If he played his cards right he could be blind drunk before it even got dark.

“I don’t like this Jack. This isn’t like you.”

“Too bad, is me now. Take me or leave me, I donna care.”

Tom just shook his head, disappearing out the door, no doubt to see Maya.

It bothered him.

The fact that he liked Elizabeth Bennet bothered him.

He was jealous of Tom, who could give himself so easily.

The fact that he couldn’t read Lizzie bothered him, her elusiveness both enticing and infuriating.

Bradley Wick suddenly being in town enraged him.

Everything had gone to shit.

Himself included.

He couldn't wait to leave this shithole, not that he had much to look forward to in London, but it was better to miserable in familiar surroundings. As far away as he could get from Elizabeth, Brad, all of them. Callum would knock some sense into him over Christmas he was sure, his little brother never failed to be the logical one. Had he listened to Callum in the first place, the two years he'd wasted with Lisa would never have happened. None of his family had ever really liked her and made no secret of their feelings, Jack had just been too stubborn to listen.

Look where that had landed him.

He didn't have the stomach to finish the whiskey, drinking the night away had gotten old in his early twenties. Losing his head was also most certainly not the way to deal with the situation?

Should he warn the Bennets?

They wouldn't believe him, no one ever did. Wick had this fucking gift of charming his way out of every situation and he already had door in the door. Nothing Jack could say now would hold any sway, plus he would have to admit his own guilt and shame in past events. He wasn't ready for that, for the disappointment and the accusation, he got enough of that from his own mind.

He found himself wandering, the sun dipping below the horizon, the breeze from the lake chilly. Jack told himself he was just going to get dinner at the only good restaurant in town and that it had nothing to do with the place being directly across from Elizabeth's movie theatre apartment.

He kept telling himself that as he sat alone in the window with his food, watching her shadow as she read a book behind the curtains. He watched her lights go out at 8:30, tipped his waitress well and shuffled back to the hotel, ready to fall into an exhausted, dreamless sleep.  

Hoping to escape from himself for just a little while.

[monabela]

yeeees it’s denest week and I love denest sO I am here to contribute to day one with a story about music/singing that reads like a romcom! since est working in music production is a frequently recurring theme when I write about him, it seemed fitting. enjoy :D

(i just wanna be) part of your symphony

characters/pairings: Denmark (Magnus)/Estonia (Eduard)

word count: 3297 summary: Eduard is getting sick of the irritating street musician out front of his music studio, but it turns out that maybe the man can teach him something.

It starts on a Monday. Eduard remembers this vividly. A clear, sunny Monday morning in May, when for once his coworkers don’t look as though they want to rip his head off when he greets them as usual.

The woman he is working with today arrives right on time, which Eduard chalks up to the fact that they are producing her first album, and she hasn’t yet developed the overdramatic flair that so many of the more seasoned artists he has worked with at the studio seem to have. Without fail, it includes being late to everything. Eduard has high expectations of the woman’s career, and of today – they’re recording the main vocals – until the Disruption starts.

He’s discussing some arrangements in a meeting room, with a session guitarist who is working elsewhere in the building, recording for one of their bigger names, when he stops in the middle of a sentence and holds a hand up to signal for silence from the man. Eduard strains his ears and frowns. The guitarist looks vaguely amused.

“What is that?” Eduard asks in distaste.

“Sounds like a kazoo to me.”

It does sounds like a kazoo, the shrill sound drifting in through a window that’s open a crack. Agitatedly, Eduard strides to the window to open it fully, and he looks down into the street. There aren’t many people out at all – this is a rather touristic part of town, and it is only a Monday morning, after all – but there is a person standing right out front of his building, hopping around as they play the kazoo.

As Eduard watches, they stop and start singing in a voice that sounds little different from the instrument. He bristles, pulling his head back inside.

“Top notch entertainment,” the guitarist jokes, but Eduard is not amused. He can’t have someone out there potentially ruining his studio’s hard-won reputation with their bad singing. That is just unacceptable.

“Excuse me for a moment,” he says, and walks into the adjoining office to phone down to the reception and tell them to send someone to convince the person to go elsewhere with their ridiculous act. What if people think they are with 2222 Studios? He has worked so hard to build this company up.

When he gets back, the guitarist raises his eyebrows at him and gestures at the window from where he is now sitting with his feet propped up on the table.

“Did you really just have kazoo guy sent away?”

“Yes,” Eduard answers shortly. “Now, where were we?”

The second time it happens, the musician has a guitar instead of a kazoo, and – no, they also have a kazoo, great. Eduard sighs. Perhaps he should have made it clear that they were not to return. When he looks out of the window, he sees that there are some people gathered around, watching and listening.

He tells the receptionist again to send the person away, and watches still as someone from security comes out and asks the musician to leave. Eduard nods to himself, pleased. They probably get the message now.

The musician does not get the message.

“Mr Mets?” his assistant asks, poking her head around the door of his office. Eduard looks up from his work, eyebrows raised. She knows not to interrupt him.

“What is it?”

“The, ah, the kazoo player is outside again. Well, he’s not technically playing the kazoo right now – he’s singing – but I thought you would like to know…” She trails off and fidgets with her skirt. For a moment, Eduard watches her and wonders why she seems so nervous. He’s not… Scary, is he?

But then the message filters through, and he stands up abruptly, sending his desk chair rolling back into the wall.

“Alright, I will go tell him to scram myself,” he says. His assistant quickly scuttles back to her desk when he has passed, but he barely notices, striding his way to the elevator and riding it downstairs. He doesn’t look at his reflection in the mirrored back wall. He never does.

In the lobby, he can already hear the guitar being played. He notes with dismay the receptionist bobbing his head along as he types busily. When the man looks up and sees Eduard, he stiffens. Eduard shakes his head and goes outside.

Alright, there is the culprit. It’s a man who’s just a bit shorter than him, wearing a leather jacket and bright red jeans, which clash horribly with his coppery blond, spiked hair. His guitar is an old one, covered in stickers, but Eduard has to admit he’s at least tuned it right.

“Sir?” he starts loudly. Luckily, there aren’t many people watching the man perform. He has no desire to cause a scene.

He looks at Eduard without stopping his strumming, strikingly dark eyebrows raised. For god’s sake, he has the kazoo on a length of rope around his neck.

“Yeah? Got a request?” He grins.

“As a matter of fact, I do. I would like to request you leave this place, and don’t return.”

“Really?” The man turns fully to Eduard, still playing a soft melody. “Ya know, I got a license for this ‘n everythin’. This’s the third time they’re tryin’ to send me away. It just ain’t happenin’. This is a good spot.”

Eduard pushes his glasses up, trying to breathe deeply.

“You know you are in front of my recording studio?” he asks.

This time, the man does stop playing. “Your recordin’ studio?”

“Yes. And I kindly ask you to go play somewhere else.”

“But why? Aren’t ya supposed to like music?”

“I…” Eduard frowns. “I do. But I’m not sure what you’re doing here can be qualified as such. It gives off a bad impression, you see.”

The man opens his mouth and tilts his head with a frown, but he doesn’t say anything. After a few seconds, he strums his guitar again. The sparse audience claps. Eduard glares in their general direction, but they only clap louder. Someone whistles. The musician grins.

“I don’t think I’m the one givin’ off the bad impression here, my man.”

“Please, sir.”

The man just looks at Eduard, downturned eyes assessing. Eduard has to wonder what he sees.

“Alright, I’ll leave if it makes ya happy. Can I just finish my song?”

“Fine. Thank you.” Eduard turns to go back inside, back to his paperwork, but the musician calls out.

“Hey, what’s your name?”

“Eduard Mets,” he says hesitatingly.

“Alright, Mr Mets. Wish I could say it was nice to meet ya. I’m Magnus Nordskov.” He salutes cheekily and goes back to his guitar, starting a jaunty tune. As Eduard walks inside, he can hear him joining in with his awful singing. He tunes it out.

Barely a week later, Eduard jolts out of his chair during a meeting with the singer, who has now almost finished recording her album and is visibly excited. It makes Eduard tired to watch her.

“Sir?” she asks, when he abruptly stands up and throws the window open, letting the warm summer air into the meeting room along with the sounds of guitar music and nasal singing.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Eduard grumbles, pushing the window shut again. He offers no explanation to the singer or any of the other people in the room before stomping out, taking the stairs two at a time, and flinging the front door of the studios open. He sees Magnus Nordskov glance his way, but the man doesn’t acknowledge him otherwise until Eduard positions himself right in front of him.

“Mr Mets, so nice to see ya,” he drawls.

“What are you doing here?” Eduard hisses, leaning over to him. He smells rather overwhelmingly like hair gel and coffee.

“Playin’, Mr Mets, what’s it look like?”

“Breaking a promise, is what it looks like, Mr Nordskov.”

With a wicked grin that shows far too many crooked teeth, he says, “I ain’t breakin’ anythin’. See, my song ain’t finished just yet. It’s very long. Lotta rhythm changes, key changes. Sometimes I even change my instrument. No tellin’ how long it’ll take to finish.”

Eduard breathes deeply once more. He can handle this. The man thinks he’s being clever. Fine. No problem. He leans more forward, into Nordskov’s personal space.

“Look at it like this. A potential client of mine walks up to here. The only entrance. They see you. What will they think?”

Nordskov raises his eyebrows. “‘Hey, that guy looks like he’s havin’ fun’?” he suggests. Still, his fingers move on the strings of his guitar.

“Music is not about fun,” Eduard bursts, and now, the musician stills. He holds Eduard’s eye steadily, dark blue boring into him.

“Do you hear yourself?” he asks.

They are silent for a long while, just staring at each other. Eduard breathes through his nose, trying to calm himself. His chest feels painfully constricted.

“Think about that,” Nordskov eventually whispers, leaning even more over to Eduard before stepping back and continuing his song as if nothing happened. The crowd cheer, and Eduard sees no other option than to leave.

If the singer upstairs looks at him with disapproval writ plainly on her face, he pretends not to see.

Magnus Nordskov is outside again, for the first time not wearing the leather jacket. He’s got a ukulele this time. Eduard leans against the windows in his office and looks down at the musician, the people coming and going around him. It’s been pretty busy around town lately, and Nordskov seems to enjoy the attention. Of course he does.

Eduard hates it.

The tune he’s playing is light, and his voice actually doesn’t sound so bad, but Eduard still hates it. He’s a street musician in front of recording studio.

“Mr Nordskov!” he calls when he walks outside this time.

“Mr Mets!” the man replies, fitting the name into the melody of his song. He continues, “I wish I could talk, but ya see, all o’ these people are here just for me.”

“I will call the police.” Honestly, Eduard hasn’t even thought about doing any such thing.

“I ain’t the one disruptin’ work in progress; matter o’ fact, that’s you, Mr Mets.” He launches into a chorus of repeated la-la-las, which the crowd soon joins in with. As they continue and he plays the ukulele, he tilts his chin at Eduard, obviously beckoning him over. Eduard goes with a sigh.

Nordskov licks his lips. “Right, listen, even if ya call the cops, they can’t do anythin’ about me bein’ here. Like I said, I got a license. I’m not bein’ disruptive. No reason for them to send me away or anythin’.”

“I know, I know,” Eduard replies agitatedly.

“And I know I ain’t the best singer.” He laughs disarmingly, which Eduard only hates him more for. “I wish I could be Johnny Cash, ya know? Wish I could be Volbeat, but it’s more Axl Rose on a bad day. I know. But I ain’t bad. And I’m havin’ fun. These people are havin’ fun.”

Eduard opens his mouth, then shuts up, biting his lip.

“So really, Mr Mets, what’s your deal?”

“I’m not having fun,” he says, but it comes out in a much lower voice than he expected, or wanted. He pushes his glasses up, looking around at the street. It’s crowded with people in light clothes, and nearly all of them smile as they walk past Nordskov.

“Right. And whose fault is that?”

Eduard hates how soft the man’s voice is all of a sudden, but he just looks at his neat black shoes, shakes his head, and turns to go back inside.

Eduard loves music. Or so he thinks.

He knows for a fact he used to. After a fairly strict upbringing, he enjoyed listening to all kinds of music, including many things his parents would disapprove of. From reggae to death metal to eurodance, he’d listen to anything.

He tries to remember when the last time was he actually sat down and just listened to something, and comes up empty. Unless he counted the Eurovision Song Contest, but even that has not been so enjoyable the past years, for some indiscernible reason.

Has he ruined music by turning it into his job? Is that even possible?

This time, Eduard waits in the lobby of the studio for Magnus Nordskov to show up, and goes outside to catch him before he starts to play when he does.

“Oh, fuck, ya scared me,” the man says when Eduard calls his name. He clutches his chest dramatically. “Ya goin’ to tell me to leave again?”

“No, I’m— No.” Eduard chews on his lower lip. “I want to ask you a question.”

Nordskov makes a go-ahead motion while he opens his guitar case and takes the instrument out, hanging it around his neck and gently tuning it.

“Why are you here?”

The musician looks at him with one eye. There are laugh lines around it, visible even though he isn’t precisely smiling right now. Despite them, he can’t be much older than Eduard. A year or two at most.

“That’s the big one, ain’t it?” he asks. “Why are any of us here?”

“Nordskov…”

“I get it, I get it. Well, for starters, it really is a good spot. People who come from the station are gonna come through here first, ya know?” He smiles down at his guitar in a surprisingly gentle way. “I also like windin’ people up, so there’s that.”

Eduard opens his mouth to say something indignant, but is forestalled.

“And you’ve been kinda intriguin’ me, Mets. How can someone who runs a recordin’ studio hate music so much? I really wonder.”

“I don’t hate…” Eduard trails off.

“C’mon, coming from the guy who told me music wasn’t supposed to be fun? What am I supposed to think here?”

Eduard looks down at his sincere blue eyes, the freckles covering his entire face and his arms. The beat-up guitar. Long fingers plucking at the strings.

“I don’t even know what I think, Nordskov,” he confesses, still looking at the guitar.

“Are we havin’ a moment? If we’re havin’ a moment, please call me Magnus.”

Eduard looks at his face incredulously.

“Seriously.” He grins widely. “Maybe ya should figure out what ya think. Smash some plates or somethin’, I hear that helps.”

“What would you do?” He is unsure why he asks. Like he will give any useful advice.

The grins widens. “Me? I’d just play some music. Might do ya good too, Eduard.”

Eduard listens to country music and jazz and rap, and then he cycles back through country music to power metal, and after that to pop. He has told his assistant not to disturb him unless it is an emergency. He has no idea what time it is.

He tries to let go, but is finding it difficult. It sounds like work, all of it. He’s listening for imperfections even on tracks he didn’t produce, on sixty-year-old songs that crackle through the speakers.

Music is supposed to be fun, he thinks.

What happened to that?

This time, Eduard doesn’t say anything. He just picks Magnus Nordskov’s guitar case up and motions for him to follow.

They walk into the studios amid confused gazes from Eduard’s employees – and Nordskov himself probably isn’t better.

“What’s goin’ on, man?” he exclaims when he is seated in a recording booth. “I mean, hey, this is awesome, always wanted to get in here, but it feels a little like you’re gonna murder me, ya know?”

“I – what? No. I want you to play something. Anything. Whatever makes you happy.”

“Oh, in that case, I really like Twister, and I’d like to see ya try…” He trails off and wets his lips. “Alright, so this is serious business, I get it. What is this, a Disney movie? Are ya tryin’ to find your spark or some shit?”

“What if I am?” Eduard asks defensively.

“You’re gonna need to help.”

He frowns, fidgeting with the buttons of his sleeves.

“Play any instruments? Ya could use my guitar, but it might be difficult, what with you bein’ left-handed.”

“You noticed that?”

Nordskov grins.

“And, I play the piano.”

“That’s awesome! Any chance ya could teach me? Yes, no, shut up you’re ruinin’ the mood Magnus?”

Eduard just raises his eyebrows and asks, “Am I making you nervous?”

“Yeah,” he admits readily, but he grins. “Kinda a big deal knowin’ ya could be the spark in a Disney movie, ya know? Big dream, comin’ true.”

“I don’t even know what you mean,” Eduard says, laughing.

“He laughs! C’mon, let’s go find a piano for you, Eduard.”

Which is how Eduard finds himself seated at a keyboard in another booth, with Magnus squeezed on to the bench next to him, hands hovering over the keys for the first time in years. He breathes deeply. His hands tremble. Magnus is silent, which seems to be rare.

“I used to love music,” Eduard says, for some reason.

“Hmm, I’m sure ya still do,” Magnus says. “’S hard to stop, really. All part of the makeup.”

Eduard looks over at him, confused.

“Genetic makeup,” he clarifies, smiling. “And, I mean, the rest o’ yours turned out quite nicely, so.”

Before Eduard can process that, the man is strumming his guitar and humming along. A folk song, one Eduard knows. He brushes his fingers over the keys.

He presses down, and the keyboard makes a noise that sounds like a fart. Magnus abruptly stops playing and laughs. Eduard tries hard to be indignant, but in the end, he gives in and collapses into helpless laughter, leaning on the other man. The smell of coffee doesn’t seem so bad now, really. It’s quite comforting.

“C’mon, play it!” Magnus encourages, pressing a few high notes on the keyboard. He giggles like a teenage boy.

And so, Eduard does. He plays the folk song without worrying that it sounds like farts, or like an ominous choir when Magnus decides to change the instrument halfway through, and after some hesitation, he even joins in when the man starts to sing.

After a while, he realizes Magnus has fallen silent, and he stops, feeling self-conscious all of a sudden.

“What?”

“No, just… You’re a really good singer.” Magnus grins. “And also, you may have found your spark, Eduard. And it wasn’t even me!”

“Will you shut up about the spark?” Eduard says, choosing to ignore the rest because he has no idea how to react to it. He sang a lot when he was younger, but hasn’t done so in a long time.

“No, I will not.”

“Alright then. Alright.” Eduard looks at him. “Thank you. You were part of it.”

“Now just keep fannin’ those flames,” he advises. “And really, it was my pleasure, especially if you’ll just let me play out front now.”

Eduard huffs. “I might.”

“Good.” Magnus stands up, running a hand through his hair, which springs back up immediately. “I’ll see ya ‘round, then, Eduard.”

Eduard also stands up, and grabs the man’s arm. Magnus, who wasn’t going anywhere, looks down at his hand, surprised, then up at  Eduard with a questioning look.

“I’ve been rude to you,” Eduard says. “And you helped me, and I want to thank you and how do you feel about dinner maybe?”

Magnus smiles ever so slowly, a pleased sparkle in his eyes. Eduard thinks he’d be happy to see more of that.

“That sounds like a good way to fan the flames.”

“Well, if that’s what you say… You’re the expert.”

Magnus clasps Eduard’s shoulder. “Not really. I just have weird ways of flirtin’.”

Eduard can’t believe it worked.

[texanredrose]

Celebrity Matchmaker (Part 7)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 (here) / Part 8  

"Well, Remnant, there you have it!" Coco cut in at that moment, stepping around the four to address the cameras and the audience beyond. "Our daring romantic lead has made her decision. Will Blake, Pyrrha, Yang, and Weiss enjoy their happy ending? The choice is yours, Remnant, here on Celebrity Matchmaker!" A cold weight dropped into the bottom of her stomach at those words; despite having come to a satisfying conclusion, whether or not they would get the opportunity to pursue it still hung in the air. "Now, using the mobile app on your scrolls or our CCT website, cast your vote. Give our daring foursome a thumbs up to approve this celebrity union or a thumbs down to end the happiness now!" Blake pushed closer to her side, offering her comfort and desperately needed support, and Pyrrha and Yang quickly followed suit, the four of them huddling together and waiting with bated breath. "Everyone has twenty minutes to cast their vote, but don’t go anywhere! We'll come back after this commercial break to deliver the verdict on this season's finale of Celebrity Matchmaker!"

A few moments later, they were off air, with the audience breaking out into a chattering mess as they all pulled out their scrolls and began voting. They weren't the only ones- the camera crew, those helpers standing off set, even the host pulled out their scrolls and let their voices be heard.

"Guess we just gotta wait out the rest, huh?" Yang offered, reaching up to fiddle with the hair tie holding back her unruly mane.

"So it seems." Pyrrha hummed, looking at the movie star. "I'm sure everything will turn out fine."

"I'm not so sure." Weiss bit her bottom lip, trying to keep the racing thoughts swirling through her head from stampeding out of control. While she thought she had a firm grasp on the odds when making her original decision, now there existed a whole slew of variables that put everything into question. How would the purists react? Could Remnant handle something so far from the mainstream ideal of romance as a polyamorous relationship? And then there was their careers to consider- how would their fans react? Would any of them even have careers after this? So caught up in the euphoria of a solution that didn't mean sacrificing the bonds she'd forged with each of her potential partners, she hadn't stopped to think of the ramifications of such a decision. "What if-"

"Stop." Blake's voice, calm and steady, was at odds with the flush still present in her cheeks. "There's no need to ask those questions right now."

"She's right, Princess." The rock star chuckled, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder and squeezing gently. "We've got less than twenty minutes until the decision comes out, and worst case scenario we keep any interactions between us out of the public eye for three years. Ducking the paparazzi is, like, old hat by now, right? We'll be fine."

She winced, lowering her gaze sightly. "Actually, my contract with the show is worded a bit... differently." At the three curious looks she received, Weiss sighed and began a truncated version of the events leading her to this position in the first place. "I only agreed to do the show under the condition that, by completing the show's full run and remaining compliant with the finale's decision, it would remove my father as my agent and handler. As such, my contract lasts... considerably longer. If I attempted to exit the show or the relationship produced by it, my father regains his position and complete control over my life."

Blake and Pyrrha’s brows shot up, obviously surprised by the rather... extreme measures included in her contract. The blonde, on the other hand, looked a tad horrified.

"Wait, time out, can we go back a second?" Yang's brows furrowed, her expression screwed up in confusion. "Like, ten minutes ago, you were going to choose none of us. Wouldn't that have voided your contract anyway?"

"Yes," she replied, running a hand through her bangs. "My decision to not choose one of you wouldn't have fulfilled my obligation, so my father would've become my agent again." Holding up a hand, she prevented the inevitable follow up question by simply answering it without prompting. "I realize I could've chosen any of you and fulfilled the contract's requirements, exited the rather toxic professional relationship with my father, and simply approached the other two after we'd left the set... but... it honestly didn't occur to me to do things that way. I’m not as... familiar with the concept as you two are.” She nodded towards Blake and Yang. “Even now, I’m still not sure it would’ve occurred to me. Choosing just one of you... I wouldn't be able to escape the sensation that it would negatively impact our relationships regardless; I wouldn't want anyone feeling like they were the second choice, or the runner up, or... something other than the truth. I couldn't bear that, not even for a moment."

It probably sounded a tad bit ridiculous. It was true, of course, but in hindsight, perhaps the terrible anxiety eating away at her gut might've been avoided entirely had she simply abided by the expectations of the audience and chosen only one of them. Of course, she also hadn't truly considered the four could be together, on equal terms, and that would be agreeable to all parties, and there really was no way of her knowing at the time, but-

Suddenly, a finger gently tipped her chin up, so she could see Blake's tender expression. "All these years, they should've been calling you Ice Cream, considering your soft heart." As soon as the words left her mouth, the Faunus' face fell into one of despair. "Wait, did I just-"

"That was a pun!" Yang clapped her hands together, looking entirely pleased. "You just made a pun, Kitty Cat!" She reached up, pretending to wipe a tear from her eye. "I'm so proud." Blake rolled her eyes but didn't resist as the blonde threw an arm around her shoulders. "Seems like all my hard work has paid off."

"Great, you're slowly tainting all of us with poor humor." Weiss dryly commented, ignoring the way Pyrrha chuckled, as if she genuinely enjoyed both the joke and the ensuing exchange. "We're already beyond saving at this point."

"Aw, sounds like you're already givin' up, Princess."

"I guess you could say she's... met her match?" Pyrrha managed to cut the rocker off just in time, a sly smile on her lips.

Not even Weiss could resist laughing that time, having barely contained it when Blake's unintentional one slipped out, and she was joined a few moments later by the others. Maybe it was just their breaking point or a brief moment of levity everyone felt compelled to join in on given the situation, but before she knew it, she was surrounded again, catching her breath and looking at those who had grown so dear to her heart in recent weeks. Yang, on her right, with her wide smile and shining eyes, Blake on her left, with her ears up and out in relaxed enjoyment, and Pyrrha standing just behind her, a strong and comforting presence at her back.

"I suppose there's nothing left to do except wait, hmmm?" The movie star sighed, finding two hands slipping into hers and a set of arms encircling her waist, a chin resting atop her head. "We've done all we could."

"And we're not out of the fight yet." Yang pointed out, her voice much softer than usual. "If you honestly think we're just going to take whatever decision gets handed to us without a fight, you're dead wrong, Princess."

"We are the ones who decide our fates," Pyrrha said, brushing a soft kiss against the top of her head. "Our destiny is crafted by our choices and our deeds, and I think we're meant to be together. Therefore, we will be. One way or another."

"A compelling argument." Blake noted, squeezing her hand lightly. "And we're all committed enough to see it through."

"Yeah, someone promised me a kiss when we're alone, and like hell I'm letting her off the hook that easy!"

Amid the Faunus' groan, Yang's laugh, Pyrrha's chuckle, and the all encompassing embrace, it was difficult to feel the pressure of Remnant's imminent decision. At the very least, she could shove it to the side and simply bask in their presence, allowing her idle mind to drift towards the future, crafting little scenes she direly hoped would play out. Standing just off stage with Pyrrha and Blake while Yang 'rocked out' with thousands of screaming fans, sitting in box seats watching Pyrrha compete while Blake and Yang cheered beside her all decked out in team colors, attending a release party for one of Blake's books with all of them dressed to impress and Yang struggling to remain on her best behavior while Pyrrha and Blake slipped in and out of conversations easily, coming off set to find three pairs of arms just waiting to hold her while she prepared for the next scene, the four of them in the living room of a house they could call their own, curled up on the couch to watch a movie or simply reading while the blonde picked at her guitar- the possibilities were endless and she direly wanted to see them come true. It would be hard, of course, even harder than when she imagined the scheduling conflicts just two of them would have, nevermind four, but... damn it all, she would move countries and oceans to make it work.

"Hey, you four." She didn't even noticed she'd closed her eyes until Coco's voice called her back to the present, finding the host approached them bearing a familiar little basket. "Figured you might want these."

Contained within were their scrolls, which they'd naturally turned over at the onset to keep their opinions unbiased- and to reduce any anxiety regarding the ridiculous antics of gossip magazines. The first few weeks were stressful, being unable to check on any pending business relating to their careers, but they'd all come to enjoy the vacation, as evidenced by the slight reluctance in reclaiming the devices.

"Thought we weren't getting those back until after we wrapped up?" The blonde raised a brow at hers- battered and beaten from being dropped a few too many times- before preparing to tuck it away.

"Yeah, but I figure if all of Remnant gets to vote on your relationship, maybe you should get the option, too." She glanced over her shoulder. "Plus, no one's paying attention right now; the producers are catching hell from the illustrious Mr. Schnee."

"For not specifying the number of candidates a romantic lead can choose or for not making me follow through with my initial choice?" Weiss reclaimed hers, flicking it open and pulling up the website rather than wasting time with the application that would do the same. She would consider it a lesson learned to download all available external sources for any show she agreed to be on in the future, flicking her gaze between her screen and the amused little smile on Coco's lips.

"A little of column A, a little of column B, and a little of column the producers could care less about his objections because our ratings are through the roof." She shrugged. "Something about the drama bomb really got people tuning in; I wouldn't be surprised if we set a record or two tonight."

Casting her vote- and wishing there was some sort of preview function so she could see how the whole thing was going- and handing her scroll to Blake for safekeeping, the movie star turned her attention back to Coco. "So the producers..."

"They're on your side, trust me." She winked. "Seems like your old man can't claim breech of contract no matter how much he yells." A small relief, she thought, even as Pyrrha gave her scroll to Yang for the moment. "We're about to come back live. You four ready?"

"Do we have a choice?" The Faunus sighed, tucking her own scroll away the same as Yang and smoothing out her jacket.

As they went about preparing themselves for having the eyes of Remnant upon them again- smoothing out fabric, fiddling with hair, and it was so very nice to have someone else to help this time around- Weiss noticed one of the crew slip onto the set and deposit two more ring boxes on the pedestal. Now, there were four, and it made her heart leap into her throat to think how close she was, how close they all were to a tangible reality.

"Where should we get married?" The question sprang to her tongue and left almost before she could register it but now, she wanted to know. And, it was actually a very good question. They all hailed from different countries, different parts of Remnant- where could they hold a wedding between the four of them that would be equally meaningful?

"Vacuo," Yang replied immediately, smirking. "Not that I've done extensive research on the subject or anything, but they definitely allow for unions of more than just two people. And, since none of us are from there, we can all have a happy memory to claim it. Think of it as the next step in our plan to take over the world."

The Faunus laughed, shaking her head. "That is the silliest thing you've said so far."

"But she has something of a point." Pyrrha acknowledged. "We're in four unique fields that could possibly overlap and from four different countries, where our fanbases are largest. It does stand to reason we embody the phrase 'power couple' more than just about any other union in Remnant."

"Except for the 'couple' part," Blake replied, though she had a smile curling her lips. She also seemed too happy to be embarrassed by all the attention, her blush beginning to die down, but it could easily be the furrow in her brows as she searched for a word. "What would it be instead?"

"A quad, typically." The blonde seemed to not even register the questioning look she received, rolling right along while checking her hair tie again. "Three is a triad, four is a quad, five is a... quint? Although most people just go with 'moresome', which is cute, but I've never really considered having that many partners before, honestly. Triads and quads are more my style, so that's what I have experience with, really."

"Well, at least one of us knows what she's doing." Weiss offhandedly offered, reaching up to bat Yang's hands away. "It's driving you insane keeping it up like that, isn't it?"

"Just a little." The rock star puffed out a sigh. "But, ya now, it looks more formal and I was really trying."

Looking over her shoulders, Weiss noted the identical looks both Pyrrha and Blake wore. "Down?"

"Down," they both replied, and the redhead quickly reached over and, with careful fingers, pulled the hair tie out, allowing golden locks to rest freely against the woman's shoulders.

"Better?"

"Oh, so much." She ran her fingers through her hair, relief showing plain in her face. "I hate having my hair tied up, period."

They knew. The nearly identical looks the three of them bore said as much and Weiss almost couldn’t believe she’d missed it before.

"Alright, we've got thirty seconds!" Someone announced, and the four exchanged a few quick looks as the reminder of the looming results threatened to steal away the calm they'd managed to forge. But then Coco strode up to them, demanding their attention with a few quick commands.

"Alright, let's move you four this way. Come along, we don't have much time." She pulled them towards center stage, just behind the pedestal. "There we go, Blake up a little more, Pyrrha a half step back, Yang turn towards me a little, Weiss just a hair to your left, alright, there." The fashion designer stepped back, peering at them for a moment before nodding. "Good. Stay just like that. And a little PDA wouldn't hurt. There's still another ten minutes left of voting and people are still logging on; if you want to win this, now's not the time to hold anything back." She started to turn away but stopped, looking back at them- well, one in particular. "And no, Yang, that wasn't a suggestion for something lewd."

"Aw."

"It'd probably get your fans' attention, though." Blake acknowledged with a thoughtful hum, fidgeting slightly. "Perhaps we should-"

"Kitty Cat, if you're about to suggest something we haven't done already, don't worry about it." The blonde flashed a smile. "We don't need to dig that deep for this, promise. Princess already tried the whole 'valiant sacrifice' thing and I don't pull the same stunt twice."

"Much to our never ending concern," Pyrrha said, though there was a hint of a smile around the edges of the words.

Weiss wished she could turn around, because looking at the three was a good deal easier than the camera at present, the audience beyond kept barely shrouded by the lighting even as the man behind the camera counted them back in, meaning the deadline drew every closer no matter what they did or didn't do. She'd never felt so nervous, straightening her shoulders as Coco launched into her spiel, hoping a retreat into her calm facade would bring with it a measure of comfort.