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eleni-cherie · 2 years

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8 mile ✨ || myg au - chapter 1.3

"Thanks to you I could make my dream come true."

first time yoongi laid eyes on soyeon was eight years ago, at a rap battle in a rundown club. how could they know the effect they would have on each other ever since?

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masterlist: here

— genre: musicians au, romcom, humour, fluff, angst, strangers to friends to lovers s2f2l

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"So, what do you think?" Yoongi turned around in his chair to see Soyeon's reaction. Her hands were folded in front of her lips. She was thinking. Hard.

"Something is missing," she stated unemotionally then. Causing his brow to arch. He hummed then before turning around, facing his display and playing the song one more time. And they sat there in silence, before Yoongi spoke up again. "It's the beginning, right?" "Yeah." "Okay wait." His fingers glided over the keyboard in front of him as the program on his computer was recording him. His eyes focused on the black and white keys. He didn't seem to notice his head and foot tapping along the beat playing in the background. And Soyeon carefully observed him compose a new bridge in less than five minutes right in front of her. She was in awe. Again.

"Wait, try that," she interrupted him then and got up. He instantly stopped and backed off from the keyboard. Watching her positioning herself in front of it, placing her delicate fingers on it. "Try an A# instead of A," she mumbled. Repeating his melody by replacing this one note. His eyes rested on her side-profile for a moment, before he nodded. The intense stare on her eyes while composing being an interesting sight to him. "Sounds better," he said. She smiled hearing his words and went back to the couch. Letting him record it again with her adjustment and building the new bridge part into the previous melody.

She wouldn't admit it, but the fact he had listened to her opinion made her a little proud.

"Okay, let's see now," he mumbled and pressed play. The beginning of the song being repeated for the third time this night. They quietly sat there listening to the new version. Arms folded in front of their chest. "That's it, I think," Soyeon grinned widely at Yoongi as soon as it ended. He turned around, nodding at her with a content smile. "I think so, too." For a moment they remained silent, just smiling at each other. "You know," the boy spoke up again, rubbing his eyes. Soyeon noticed they were slightly red. Maybe because of all the hours staring on a display. "I really like your flow. It's quite dynamic. I like it." "That's quite ironic," she laughed under breath. Quietly sinking into her seat. Regretting her words when realising she had spoken them out. Watching him frown at them. "Huh why?"

"Because," she sighed. A sad but also slightly embarrassed look on her face as she was thinking about what she was about to confess. "When you thanked me for letting you win.." Her voice trailed off as she pursed her lips. Eyes falling to the ground. "The actual truth is, I didn't let you win back then." Her sudden confession causing him arching a brow at her. Waiting for her to continue. "I got insecure. I knew you were better than me. I had seen you rap before, I knew you were capable of more. And I.. I don't even know why I tried competing against you. I guess I just wanted to prove to myself and the others that I could do it. That I could beat you." Her fingers began nervously fumbling with her shirt. Replaying the old memories and feelings in her mind's eye. "But I realised I couldn't, so I just didn't want to give those guys there any more reasons to make fun of me. That's why I ran away like a coward."

"That's bullshit," Yoongi retorted then. Making Soyeon perk up a little. Giving him a questioning look. "I wasn't better," he softly smiled at the girl then. "I just had more confidence. That's all." She was about to protest but didn't. She wanted to believe him. It sounded like a compliment, somehow. Even if it most likely wasn't true. She was thankful for his words. "Maybe you're right.." Her lips tucking into a grin then. "And well, I do have confidence now."

"Soyeon.." he said then before pausing his words. Contemplating how to phrase the question that had been stuck on his mind these past days. After all, he had probably been overanalysing things. Still, he needed a clear answer. Otherwise it would leave him restless. "When you said you liked me.. you meant.." Furrowing her brows, she lightly cocked her head at him. "As a friend?" she slowly replied. Unsure of where his question was leading to.

He nodded in relief. "Okay, good." For a moment, she kept her eyes on him. Curiosity rising inside her. Begining to understand the reason of the unusual question. "But let's say, hypothetically, I wouldn't have meant it as a friend." She watched him arch a brow at her. "What if I did like you more than a friend?" "Hypothetically.." Yoongi started, trailing off as his eyes wandered around his equipment. Carefully shaping his response, before answering honestly. "I'd have said it's a bad idea. We work for the same label and you're about to debut soon.. It wouldn't be a good idea." "Huh. And why so?" she enquired scooting closer to the edge of her seat. Finding it entertaining to see his cheeks get tinted in a slight shade of pink. Even if he kept his cool.

He shrugged then. "I wouldn't want to endanger your debut in any way." And with that he turned around in his chair. Facing his computer screen again and leaving her with the view of his back.

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next chapter: here

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serenityseventeen · 3 years

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Love & Letter: To The Thirteen Boys I've Loved Before

The First Letter

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To: Choi Seungcheol

From: Y/N

Hi, Seungcheol.

I know that in your life, I've probably been a side character. A classmate in your autobiography or life movie. I don't expect to become anything more than that because now, I don't think I have a chance.

We've known each other since we were young. We've known each other for all of our life basically, right?

I can still remember what a cute kid you were back in kindergarten. You were such a nice little boy and whenever the other kids picked on me, you would stand up to them and say, “Hey! I'll tell the teacher and I'll also tell Y/N's parents about everything!”

I don't know if you remember that, but I do.

When we went to middle school, I think that's when I first began liking you. Even though we live just a block apart from each other, we didn't talk a lot outside of school. Since we were both classmates and knew each other's house location, it was a bit awkward for me, but thank you for talking to me when we waited for the bus at the bus stop together. Sometimes you would just briefly mention my hair or the small details like new shoes or socks.

Thinking about it still gives me hope that you like me.

Throughout middle school, you always fed me hope. Maybe because in general, you were just a charming, manly, attractive, and caring guy. Maybe I'm still misunderstanding too many of your actions.

I can remember so many times that my heart fluttered and my stomach filled with butterflies because of you, Seungcheol. Since this is a letter to you that I won't send, I guess I'll just write them all down here to keep as a memory, just in case I ever miss you or feel nostalgic. You're my first love, after all, Seungcheol.

There was this time when we were in 6th grade. In 6th grade, both of us didn't talk much, and surprisingly, we didn't get a lot of long-term projects together. I don't think we got any at all actually.

Anyway, it was the middle of spring and both of us were just hanging out with our group of friends. You were throwing around a paper ball, playing a game of catch with your friends during the break. I was just being the usual me, listening to my friends talk while drawing dancing cartoons in the empty spaces in my notebook. Sometimes I would glance up and catch a glimpse of you catching the ball.

Despite being in middle school, you had really large, muscular arms. I was watching you and your friend play catch for a bit. Your friend was right next to me, catching the ball, and you were on the opposite side. I turned back to my notebook then all of a sudden, the ball flew right in my face from your hands.

I let out a small “ouch” even though it didn't hurt. Your friend asked me if I was okay, to which I replied that I was fine. Just then, I don't know when you came, but you came in front of me and took my face in your hands. It only hit my forehead but you examined my cheeks, chin, nose, turning my face in all sorts of directions while asking “Are you okay? Are you hurt?” and saying “I'm so sorry” repeatedly. As I'm writing this, the lingering feeling of your warm palms holding my head and the side of my neck still makes my heart race. I didn't think my heart could beat so fast but it did. I think that's when I was sure I liked you more than a one-sided crush. It became a one-sided love for another two years.

There were way too many times my heart fluttered because of you but because this letter is already so long, I will only express my side of three of those times.

I hope this is an event that you remember. It was the day when you, me, and two other friends went to an amusement park. I think of this day as a double date. I can still remember my friend joking about how you and I looked so good together. I don't know if you noticed but I was so shy. She was also joking about how ‘this was a double date’ and because I was being paired up with you like that, I was just feeling over the moon. You didn't even say anything to deny it, you just laughed as I did.

I remember how your friend was convincing you to ride some rollercoasters but you were so afraid and whining. I remember just thinking you were so cute even though the memory is a bit blurry.

After that, because I wanted us to get closer, I said, “I'll ride it with you, it'll be okay.”

You were still skeptical but to me, it looked like you were giving in. I always wonder if it was because of me or if you were annoyed by your friend's continuous convincing. If it was because of me, then, I might regret not telling you my feelings.

Anyway, I rode the rollercoaster with you and I was, evidently, really scared. I was so scared to ride that thing that I was unintentionally screaming with you with my eyes shut. My hand was holding tightly onto the bar that secured us and I couldn't open my eyes at all. Just then, I felt your hand on mine and I could feel the courage to open my eyes. When I finally stopped yelling and opened my eyes, I saw that you still had your eyes squeezed, gripping my hand tightly.

You looked so cute, Seungcheol. If you opened your eyes, you would have seen how brightly I was smiling. Later that night, I remember, I rolled around in my bed and wiggled thinking back on it.

However, whenever I tried to get close with you, I always backed out because even though there are small moments like those I mentioned, there are more times where it seems like you don't like me the way that I like you. I don't know your heart and I know better than anyone that being friends with you would only make my love for you grow deeper.

It's the first time I'm feeling this way for anyone and I don't know what to do. I want to get closer and explicitly tell you that I like you and want you to date me, but at the same time, I don't know which decision is right. We're both still young is the only excuse I can think of, but still, I can't bring myself to tell you how I feel. All I know is that I might be in love with you and you make my heart race.

This is the last thing I'll share in this letter, even though you won't receive it. I just want to tell you my honest feelings that I can't tell you about physically. Yes, I'm being a coward and writing a letter like this.

You know, Seungcheol, you always had this strong aura to you. You can be so cute but you're so masculine too. I like how caring you are, always taking care of your classmates. I admire you for having such a great sense of responsibility. You always remind me when I'm on cleanup duty. Not to mention how charismatic you look when you rap alone at the bus stop. Your deep voice is beautiful when you sing too. I don't think you know how much I know about you. I don't want to seem creepy because these types of things are just things I can't help noticing. I don't even know why I'm writing this down, it just crossed my mind just now. I might as well pour out the rest of my heart to carve you out, right?

There was this one time last year, at the bus stop, when I arrived before you did. Usually, you always came to the bus stop first, and honestly, without you there made me feel uneasy. It made me realize a lot that your presence gave me feelings of reassurance and comfort. Without you there, I was so paranoid that I took out my headphones just in case my headphones would block out the sound of someone coming. I just remember feeling so scared, clenching my cold fists in my lap. The morning was gloomy and it was even raining.

I remember my mind racing, waiting for you to come. However, I was getting even more scared at the fact that I probably wouldn't be able to hear anything so I just wore my headphones again and listened to some music. I was looking down the sidewalk in the direction of my house, wondering if I should ask my father to drive me to school instead, when all of a sudden, you yanked out my headphones.

You were panting, covered in rain. I stood up because I was shocked and nearly wanted to hug you for coming but because we weren't close, I knew it'd be awkward if I thanked you or something. However, what you said to me, has always lingered in my head.

“Hey!” You shouted in a scolding tone, placing your hands on your hips. “What are you doing out here all alone? Why didn't you go back home and get an umbrella, it's raining so much! Plus, you could have waited until I came first until you decided to sit here alone with music blocking your ears! What are you, stupid!?”

At that time, I just stood, frozen. I was wondering why you didn't have an umbrella meanwhile my heart was fluttering. I was wondering why you were scolding me. Were you worried for me? Do you like me? Those questions still float around.

After scolding me, you sighed and apologized.

“No, it's okay,” I said quietly. I couldn't tell you that I was scared because I just didn't know how to say it without making it awkward. If I did say that I was scared since you weren't with me, would things change?

In the end, you were still soaking wet so you called your dad to get you an umbrella. Why was that? Why didn't you just come out with an umbrella?

I have so many questions about so many seemingly minor things you do to me. Are you worried just for me or are you worried for everyone, including all our classmates? Do you find me a source of comfort or were you just too scared to think on the rollercoaster?

Since the questions will never get answered like how this letter will never get mailed, I will conclude negatively, that you don't feel the same way. The main reason I'm writing this letter anyway is that I'm deciding to get over you. I know we're probably going to be stuck in the same high school but I'm going to stop loving you foolishly like this.

Thank you for being my first love. You being yourself made me feel so many different kinds of feelings, so many different emotions. I fell in love for the first time and I'm glad it was with someone like you, even if the ending is bittersweet. After summer break passes, I'll make sure to get over you.

I won't forget you though. I won't forget the way you cared for me. I won't forget the way you are.

You're an unforgettable first love, Seungcheol.

Sincerely,

Y/N

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6/18/21 - 3:39 pm

a/n: I'm in love with the entire Your Choice album!!! Ready to Love is such a beautiful song, gosh, I'm in love with it!!! Seventeen always has superior B-Sides and ANYONE is my new bias wrecker + The members posted on Instagram today for the first time in forever (except for Seungkwan)!!!

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orionares · 3 years

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BTHB: Comatose

Law and Order: SVU

@badthingshappenbingo

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“Can I ask you something?”

He flinches at the small voice from across the room. Blue eyes similar to his eyes stare at him blankly beneath brown curly hair with the same tenacity and strength he'd worked side by side with for twelve years.

Elliot nods slowly, prompting the ten year old to slide out of his chair and cross the room to stop inches from the foot of his mother's bed. Noah Benson rests his hand on the foot of the bed and eyes Elliot cautiously. "Did you do something to my mom?"

Elliot chokes on his breath and pushes himself from the huddled position in his chair to face Noah. He stifles a need to burst into tears and instead answers in a cracked voice, “What do you mean?”

“If you were the one that got her hurt,” Noah muses, “you’d be in jail. But- but you aren’t arrested and you have a badge. So you're a cop. Right?”

Elliot can feel his heart shatter as the boy eyes his mother, lying unconscious in one of Sanai’s hospital beds, hooked up to a handful of wires. He himself can’t bring himself to look at her- no, not after what had happened. The guilt alone-

“Do you work with my mom?” Noah’s question comes as he steps closer to Elliot, causing the older man to flinch. “I’ve never seen or heard about you before.”

“You're inquisitive,” Elliot stammers. Noah cocks his head to right and mutters, “What’s itiquative?”

“Inquisitive,” Elliot corrects. He scratches the back of his neck and sighs, “It means you ask a lot of questions. You also like to ask the right questions. Like your mom.”

“That’s what Uncle Fin says.” His face falls as he turns towards the bed and sniffles, “Is she going to be ok?”

A knuckle raps on the door as Fin Tutola ducks his head into the door before stepping in. He pauses to stare at Olivia for a moment before shaking his head in disbelief. Even though he had dropped off Noah an hour earlier, he still finds himself shaken at seeing her in this state. “You ready to head out, Noah?”

Noah doesn’t peel his eyes from the bed. “Why hasn’t she woken up yet?” he answers softly. Behind him, Fin and Elliot exchange a worried look.

“Do you remember what we talked about yesterday?” Fin asks. He walks to the side of the bed opposite Elliot and Noah. He places a hand on Olivia’s forehead and sighs as one of his closest friends doesn’t react to his touch. Noah nods slowly and furrows his brow as he recalls the day prior’s conversation.

“She hit her head on the sidewalk when she and-” Noah quickly whips his head back to Elliot, “Detective Stabler was trying to leave the hospital. It’s a….it’s called a…”

“Cerebral edema,” Elliot finishes. “Brain swelling. They induced a coma to help the swelling go down. It’s going to take a few days for her to heal, buddy.” Using the word ‘buddy’ stings for Elliot- hell, he doesn’t deserve to use that term for the son of the woman whose heart he broke.

Noah shakes his head. “Oh, yeah. Can I stay a little longer? ‘Cause I want to be here when she wakes up.”

“Well, Elliot will be here-”

Noah’s eyes widen and he turns once more to Elliot. He mirrors his mother’s investigative scan at his badge and face. “My mom says your name in her sleep. A lot.”

Fin snorts unexpectedly at the boy’s comment. “Okay. Maybe this is a conversation for another time-”

Elliot finally pulls himself out of his daze and holds up a hand in defense. “No, I-I can head out and-”

“You didn’t answer my question,” Noah counters. “Can I talk to Elliot, Uncle Fin?”

Elliot glances up to Fin, who’s staring at Noah with contemplation. Even after ten years, Elliot can recognize the planning in the sergeant’s eyes. After a minute, Fin looks down to Olivia and whispers to her, “It’s your kid and you know I can’t say that to that face. He’s going to ask a million questions unless we nip it in the butt.”

“Fin-”

“Why don’t you take Noah down to the cafeteria?” Fin suggests, cutting Elliot off. He checks his cellphone to see 7:36 on the lock screen. “I think the cafeteria closes by 8 and he hasn’t had dinner yet.”

“Wait, maybe-”

Noah’s already moving towards the head of the bed where an empty chair sits close enough for him to climb onto the bed. He sits on his knees and begins chatting to his mother, “Mom, I’m going to be right back, ok?”

“She heard you,” Fin says. “I’ll keep an eye on her.”

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In the cafeteria, Noah slides into one of the cafeteria’s booths with a plate of a hotdog and French fries. Elliot stands next to the table and watches the boy slide off his jacket and begin eating hungrily without a word. The detective hesitates before easing down into the booth and sliding across to sit directly across from him.

“How’s the food?” Elliot finally asks after a few minutes of silence.

“Good.”

“I’m glad.” Elliot rests his hands in his lap and asks, “So your question about if I did something to your mom….what made you think that?”

“I heard Auntie Amanda and Uncle Sonny talking about you when I stayed at Auntie Amanda’s apartment,” Noah answers. He takes a bite of his hot dog and continues, “They were talking about how her ex-partner came back and how someone….named Chief said that she should stay away from you. What’d you do?”

“I- '' Elliot inhales and exhales slowly, replaying the many ways he had predicted having a conversation with Olivia’s son. “I was her partner at work for twelve years. We were inseparable and then I left her….without saying goodbye.”

“Why?”

Elliot pauses to formulate his answer. “Adult reasons.”

Noah moves onto his French fries and mumbles, “Adults always say that. It’s dumb.”

“Touché. I was married until a couple of months ago when my wife died,” Elliot explains. Saying the words ‘my wife died’ still stings. “When your mom and I were partners, I…..um…”

“You loved my mom?” Noah’s eyes widen before he shrugs his shoulders at Elliot’s sudden look of disbelief. “What? It happens in the movies all the time.”

“You are too smart for your own good,” Elliot chuckles. “I did but I was married. That’s a complicated line even for adults.”

“Then….why’d you leave?”

“Because I was afraid. Things became complicated so I did what cowards do and ran, Noah.” He ignores the instinct to stop spilling his guts to a ten year old and pushes on. “ My family and I moved to Italy and I cut her out of my life.”

Noah suddenly stops eating, pushes the plate towards Elliot and scowls at the man. “That’s stupid.”

“What?”

“I don’t get why adults do stupid stuff like that. My friend Phillip’s parents hated each other but they stayed married. Philip said they should have gotten a divorce a long time ago but didn’t. He moved away last year with his grandparents, I think. It’s dumb that you left.”

Elliot settles back against the booth, speechless. The observations and opinions shared by everyone in Olivia’s life spilled out by her son in a ten minute conversation. “It was and will be one of the greatest regrets in my life.”

Noah takes another fry off of his plate. His next question comes in a timid voice. “Do you still love my mom?”

Elliot swallows hard and feels tears forming in his eyes. “Why do you ask?” he chokes out.

“Because you keep staying with her at the hospital. And you look like people do when people they love are hurt.”

Elliot nods and chuckles. “You should be a detective when you grow up.”

“I want to be a dancer. Do you?”

Elliot smiles for the first time in days at Noah. “More than anything. More than anything.”

Noah takes another fry before stifling a yawn. “You should tell her...if she...if she…”

“Hey,” Elliot quickly slides out of his side of the boot and moves to sit next to a suddenly tear eyed Noah. Elliot rests a hand on his shoulder and says softly, “Your mom is the absolute strongest woman I ‘ve ever met. She’s going to be ok. You can’t give up hope, okay?”

Noah buries his head against Elliot’s shoulder and whimpers, “Okay.”

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"They're letting me stay the night," Elliot says softly as he settles back into his chair he had been sitting in for the past two days. After parting ways with Fin and Noah, he had returned to the hospital room to find a blanket , a pillow and a nurse giving a nod in approval. "I think they assume that we've..that we're…together, I guess."

Hw can't bring himself to look at her battered form in the bed. The moments of leaving the hospital after the Chief and IAB had dismissed Bell, Olivia and him to go home replays over and over every time his mind wanders.

"Elliot, I don't need protection!" Olivia growls as the three head towards the parking garage.

"Wheatley got to Angela in a hospital! I'm not going to let him get near you!" Elliot counters. Behind him, Bell's eyes are occupied on her phone, brow furrowed at the information she's just received from Jet.

“I know how to protect myself and my son. I’m a police captain,” she argues back. There’s an anger behind her statement that he can’t quite place but-

Bell suddenly holds up a hand and exclaims, “Hold up! Jet’s just sent me a-”

His sergeant doesn't finish as a concussive force slams into his body , propelling him and the two women across the pavement and into unconsciousness.

Elliot shakes off the memory and continues to talk. “I think it’s because I’ve spent a total of six hours away from you since the explosion. Liv, I can’t- ever since I’ve come back, I’ve put you in danger, caused you stress and….got Kathy killed.”

In the back of his head, he imagines the Olivia of ten years ago, sitting next to him with a cup of coffee and a comforting hand on his shoulder, saying, “El, you can’t blame yourself for something that was out of your control.”

“But I left you and that was in my control,” he answers the voice. He rubs a hand over his face in frustration. Another bit of memory- the briefest moment of consciousness after the explosion replays in his head.

He’ll never forget opening his eyes to her lying unconscious a foot away from him on the pavement with blood running from her ear onto the ground.

“I know I don’t deserve this but,” Elliot whispers, “but don’t leave me please. I didn’t deserve Kathy and I sure as hell don’t deserve you….but” he finally looks up to the bed and can’t stop the sob of guilt that comes. The tubes, cuts and her stillness break him. Elliot stands up and walks to her side, letting the tears fall. The tears don’t fall only for her, but for his wife, his kids, Noah and everyone he’s impacted since returning to New York.

“I love you,” Elliot whispers. He rests his forehead against hers and repeats the words he hopes he can say one day again. “I love you.”

#olivia benson #elliot stabler #law and order svu #bensler #bad things bingo #bad things happen bingo

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spiteful-bomb · 2 years

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Charlotte sinks further behind the blue haired boy. Spite, Garcello, Sunday, and Carol coming over to check out the commotion. Cam looks back at the demon behind him. She was… afraid? That’s a fucking first.

“Get out. From behind him. This is our battle. Not his.”

“Cam do something!”

Cam stands his ground. Mostly because she wouldn’t let him move.

“F-Fine!”

Cam cringes, coughing harshly. Oh that felt weird- she was forcing him to get into a rap battle position.

“Of fucking course you coward. Hiding behind someone innocent.”

Tabi looks at Cam and sighs.

“Don’t worry. I’m gonna get you out of this, alright man?”

Cam nods slowly. Spite and Carol walk over to stand on the side of the speakers Tabi was on. Meanwhile Sunday and Garcello stood near Cam. Charlotte nervously sitting on the speakers.

“This is my battle, after all. Not yours.”

And with that. The music starts.

Insert My Battle

#🍒💔 // ic #🎤 // ic #🎸 // ic #💣// ic #🚬 // ic #🐏 // ic #🖤 // ic #story mode // lore

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over-under-through1 · 4 years

Note

greens headcannons greens headcannons greens headcannons greens headcannon-

Anon, thank you you’ve finally given me an excuse to make this post

HERE WE GO

Butch is BC’s bitch. there, i said it. this boy is BEYOND whipped

BC is so protective of Butch and if anyone (this includes his brothers, yes BC has told Brick off for being too much of a dick to Butch) fuck with him she’ll mess them up

Butch steals things from Buttercups bag in class until she notices cause he wants her attention likes to annoy her

before they get together Butch gets weirdly jealous when BC calls either of his brothers hot, but he doesn’t understand why (yes he does he’s just too much of a coward to admit he likes her)

Butch can rap, Buttercup dies whenever she hears it but tries to contain herself

BC is more dominate in the relationship than Butch

Buttercup once convinced Butch she could speak Italian by speaking pig latin around him and she got all of their friends and family in on the joke so now Butch just thinks she knows Italian

Butch’s nicknames for BC are Butters, Cuppy, Fire cracker, Tic tac, and Freddy Krueger. there is a story behind every single one of those names that i may share one day

Buttercup’s nicknames for Butch are Dumbass, Jack ass, Butchy Boy, Alien head, Asswipe, Spike, and Bitch. Butch will respond with no hesitation to any of the above, but if anyone else calls him those he will *intense Butch glare* at them until they feel threatened and/or uncomfortable

in my AU the Powerpuff Girls (and Rowdyruff Boys because they joined their team, thanks) have like... a fan base. i mean, how could they not? they’re famous monster fighters. so, said fan base makes art of them. and a token shirt BC wears in most of this art is the “Nut daddy” shirt. she got so much fan art of this that Butch ended up commissioning Bubbles into making it into a real shirt and gave it to Buttercup as a gag gift. she loved it. like a lot.

this fan base also makes fan fictions because once again, they’re famous so like... it’s a given. Butch indulges in reader x Buttercup fics and refreshes the Buttercup Utonium/Butch tag on AO3 at least 4 times a day

Buttercup sits on Butches lap

they’re super straight forward with their feelings, resulting in barley any fights, but when they do fight they give each other space for the day and meet up at the end to apologize. 9 times out of 10 they’ve cooled down and forgiven each other

their dates are just sitting on the couch or Buttercup’s bed watching B rated horror films, or sparring sessions

when they get together they never actually say it out loud or tell anyone, they just let people figure it out for themselves (it’s not that it’s a secret, they just don’t care about what others think of it enough to actually make an announcement). this creates a townsville betting pool surrounding the status of their relationship

the only people who know for sure are their siblings, Mitch, Mike, Robin, and Pablo but they keep their mouths shut because A.its super funny watching all of townsville freak out and B.they know it’s not their place to tell

Butch is very clingy and likes to be touching BC at all times in any way, even if it’s small. most of the time it’s subtle but if you look very carefully you can spot Butches finger sneaking its way into the sleeve of Buttercup’s hoodie

Butch and Buttercup know each other so well that they can basically read each other’s minds. yup. i’ll die on this hill, you can rip this headcannon from my cold lifeless hands

okay fine i’ll expand on it. they can’t literally read each other’s minds, they can just read each other’s facial expressions really well. Buttercup’s eyebrow raises slightly? she’s intrigued by what someone said/did. Butch’s lip twitched? he’s pissed off, time to cool down the irritable green rowdy. and so on and so fourth

i’ve said this a lot to basically everyone i know so i’ll say it again here: when they first say “I love you” they literally don’t even notice. it’s on the way out of the apartment they share as they’re about to go to class and one of them, halfway out the door, says “okay bye love you” and the other just replies “love you too see ya”. they don’t realize they said it until 3 hours later in the middle of (separate) class(es), where their heads bolt up then they just go “oh my god i- huh. okay. cool. well anyways back to school”

CHILDREN HAHAHAHA THIS IS ONE OF MY FAVORITE HEADCANNONS

Butch and Buttercup avoid the whole “b name” thing like the plauge. they purposely don’t name any of their kids (they have three if you’re wondering) b names. but in the process of avoiding it, they get so distracted with what NOT to name their kids that they don’t even notice when they accidentally give them all J names. Bubbles and Boomer point it out while Butch and Buttercup are in the middle of making fun of them for naming their own kids all B names. this causes Butch and Buttercup to freeze then blow up, threatening to go to city hall and change their kids names

they’re the type of parents to curse around their children and Bubbles hates it

she’s outraged when their first born’s first word is shit. Buttercup and Butch just scream-laugh while the reds are in the back quietly chuckling as Boomer tries to calm down his seething wife

this was fun! thanks for the ask, maybe i’ll do the reds and blues in the future (also sorry if some of these seem off, it’s 2am over here and i’m tired)

#anonymous ask #ask #grace answers #the powerpuff girls #the rowdyruff boys #butch ppg #buttercup ppg #butchercup #greens ppg #blossom ppg #brick ppg #bubbles ppg #boomer ppg #blossick #boomubbles #as time goes by ppg #sbj more than human #ppg #rrb

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destiniesfic · 3 years

Photo

132 Hours, Chapter 4:

“I think I have a plan. But…”

Cardan sits forward. “But?”

“I don’t know if it’ll get you out.”

Read chapter 4 on AO3, or read below:

“You know what?” I ask abruptly, some time later.

Cardan picks up his head. “What?”

“I need to use the bathroom.”

His brow furrows, and then he looks vaguely panicked for the first time. “Um, right. Well, it’s not a big space, but I can turn around—”

I sigh. “No. Why don’t you go knock on the door and ask them to take me outside?”

Cardan blinks at me. “Oh,” he says. “You don’t want to try that yourself?”

“You’re the alpha.” I shrug. “They’re more likely to listen to you than to me.”

“Huh. Yeah. Good point.” He looks at me a little longer, head cocked, and then a grin breaks across his face like a sunrise. I feel my cheeks warm and hate that some cruel trick of fate assures that even though I know he is one of the world’s worst human beings, a small, primal part of me will always find him attractive. “How’s it feel?”

“How does what feel?”

“Bossing me around. Seems to come pretty naturally to you.”

I roll my eyes. I don’t need anyone else reminding me that I’m the world’s worst excuse for an omega. Being valedictorian sealed that. Valerian sealed that. My smart mouth sealed it, too. “Shut up, Greenbriar.”

His grin widens. “That the best you got?”

I glare. “Stop talking if you want the part of you that apparently makes you so ‘superior’ to me to remain intact.”

“A little vague, but we’ll workshop it.” Cardan pushes himself to his feet. With his long legs, it only takes him two strides to cross the room to the door. He glances at me. “If they shoot me, it’s your fault.”

“I’ll cry big, fat tears at your funeral.”

“You’d better write a kick-ass eulogy. You’re a good speaker, right? I don’t really remember graduation.”

Probably drunk, I think. Or high. “Can you just knock?”

Cardan raises his hand and deals the door three hard raps, so loud I nearly jump. He waits a beat, then says, “Oh, no answer. Well, I guess I’ll—”

“What is it?”

This time it’s a woman’s voice that comes through the door. Cardan and I glance at each other. “Bathroom,” he calls. I notice the way he instinctively pitches his voice a little lower, trying to sound more adult, more alpha. “Both of us. And I’m thirsty.”

There’s another pause, then the woman says, “Step back, then. Against the far wall.”

Raising both his hands, Cardan retreats until his back hits the wall. I stand, too, awaiting whatever might happen when the door opens.

But when it does, I am momentarily taken aback. A small woman stands there, holding a different pistol, one better suited to her hand than the man’s. Like the scarred man, she too has a distinct appearance: her brown skin is dappled white from vitiligo, and her hair, too, is a shocking white cloud of curls around her face. She’s pretty, I realize. Totally out of place holding a gun in a hostage situation.

She is holding a gun, though—smaller than her companion’s, so they aren’t trading off—and keeps it fixed on Cardan even when she looks at me. “You first,” she says. “Through the door. Come on.”

I do need to pee, but this is what I really want: a chance to get a glimpse of the space outside of our small room. I nod and take cautious steps, edging myself around her and out of the door, careful not to make any moves that would seem threatening and spook her into firing that gun. But she keeps it trained on Cardan until I am out, which is when she finally turns away from him.

She keeps the barrel of her pistol aimed at me as she secures both locks, and I look around. It is a larger open area and in the middle is a round plastic table with four chairs. In one of the chairs sits the scarred man, playing Solitaire. He looks up. “What’s this?”

“Bathroom break,” says the woman, taking my arm. It’s comical—she’s tiny, barely comes up past my shoulder—but she’s the one with the weapon. I let her lead me through the main space, which is mostly bare. Aside from the table and chairs, I see a mini-fridge plugged into one wall, and stairs that lead out of the basement.

I hope my escort is going to take me upstairs so I can get a sense of the situation, but I am not that lucky. Instead she steers me past the tables to a short hallway on the other side of the main space. There are two doors, and she motions me toward the first one.

“In there,” she says.

I don’t thank her, because what point is there in thanking my abductor? I just open the door and go inside. The bathroom is just a bathroom, but it has toilet paper and a functioning toilet and a sink and paper towels, which is all I need at the moment. There is also a shower stall in the corner with a frosted glass door, which makes me think that this is the basement of a house after all. The room we are being kept in might have once been a very small guest bedroom, or a storage room.

Someone has left bar soap in a little tray in the sink. It looks old and grody, its color faded to an unattractive pale green, but I soap my hands up anyway after I finish my business, and then I splash water on my face. I always keep a spare elastic around my wrist and use it to pull my hair, now an unruly tangle of loose curls, back from my face. I am glad I thought to wear a sweatshirt over my black tank top—I’ll probably need that to stay warm when night falls. I stare at my face in the mirror until my vision splits, and then shake my head. I cannot crack now. I can’t. I will get through this. I have been through worse. A terrible car wreck, a rocky transition to a new home, years of bullying that culminated in something worse. I can survive this, too.

So I go back outside, where the woman takes me by the arm and leads me back to my prison. I don’t protest. I am quiet, and hopefully look dazed and a little scared. No one can know I’m already planning to escape, that I still have my wits about me.

My escort undoes the locks, then pushes me back into the room, and, with the gun trained on Cardan, she says, “All right. You next.”

Cardan, who had taken up his position in the corner again, scrambles to his feet. His eyes flick over me, head to toe, like he’s judging me for looking disheveled when he himself isn’t much better off. I listen for the click of the locks, and am only a little disappointed when I hear them.

Blessedly alone, I sit on the edge of the mattress, inventorying what I know. The main obstacle will be whatever lies upstairs, but I don’t think there is any way to convince our captors to take me out for fresh air. Maybe I can claim a condition? Asthma? I doubt they would buy it.

It only takes a couple of minutes for the door to open and Cardan to come back in, the small woman at his back. He holds a bottle of water fresh from the mini-fridge, condensation already gathering on its surface. I am glad to see the water, hoping I can steal a swig and banish the greasy feeling of cold McMuffin from my mouth once and for all.

“In,” the woman urges Cardan, and he takes another step inside the room so he’s well clear of the door. I think it’s weird that he doesn’t protest, or talk back to her like he did to me, but he had been stalling then, and now there’s actual danger.

I am starting to realize that when he doesn’t hold power in a situation, Cardan Greenbriar is kind of a coward.

This should make me feel smug, but I would rather have a brash alpha to use as a shield while we make our escape. It’ll be fine. Alpha or not, hopefully I have enough brashness for the both of us.

The woman looks from me to Cardan, then back to me. Her eyes look almost kind. “I am sorry about this,” she says. “We were only meant to take him.”

“Um,” I say. “Oh.”

“It shouldn’t be too much longer.”

“That’s… good.” I look at Cardan, who seems as baffled as I am. “You could always just let me go?”

The woman sighs. “The boss says it’s not an option anymore. But don’t worry. If you keep cooperating, you won’t be in any danger. Either of you,” she adds, looking at Cardan.

“Good to know,” Cardan says. “Although I’m not sure why I should trust the promise of a person who kidnapped and drugged us.”

Her lip twitches. “Fair enough,” she says, and then she closes the door and locks it.

We both exhale our relief. Cardan sits back down in his corner, takes a large swig of water, then screws on the cap and rolls the bottle across the floor to me. “Good thinking,” he says. “One, because it would suck to have to pee on the floor, but two because now we have a sense of where we are.”

“Yeah,” I said, only half-paying attention. I unscrew the bottle cap and take a sip of cool, clean water. Then I lower my voice. “I think I have a plan. But…”

Cardan sits forward. “But?”

“I don’t know if it’ll get you out.”

He frowns, but somehow doesn’t sound surprised when he just says, “Oh.”

“Haven’t you noticed? They’re only scared of you. They only train the gun on you. They don’t think of me…” I shrug one shoulder. “Well, at all, but definitely not as a threat. I just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. As far as they know, I chose the wrong boy to kiss on a beach.”

“Yeah.” Cardan rubs a hand over his face. “Yeah, okay. So I’m the big, bad alpha… and the decoy, while you slip under the radar. And then I get to follow you, maybe. If we’re lucky.”

I am surprised to find that I feel a little bad for him. A few hours ago, I would have been fine leaving him to rot, but then we spoke more words to each other than we have maybe in our entire lives, and now I’m not so sure. I say, “You probably get to follow me, it’s just not a guarantee. But I still think it’s worth trying.”

“Anything is,” he says, surprising me. “You know why?”

“Why?”

“They’re not wearing masks.”

I stare at him for a moment, then dread pools at the bottom of my stomach, a cold egg someone’s cracked open in my chest. “Either they’re consummate professionals who’ve managed to wipe themselves from every database, or…”

“Or we’re not supposed to be around to tell anyone what we’ve seen.” Cardan’s mouth presses into a thin line, grimmer and more serious than I’ve ever seen him.

“Okay,” I say, trying to ignore my heartbeat as it speeds up. “Okay, let’s—okay. So we make our plan and carry it out. That’s what we do.”

“We carry out our plan,” he says, a gloomy echo, “or die trying.”

Silence falls over the room like a blanket of snow, but I take a flamethrower to it by asking, “Really?”

“What?”

“Being dramatic doesn’t help. We have to focus on getting out of here. So.” I wave my hand. “Stop that. No one’s going to kill you, except maybe me if you keep getting on my nerves.”

He looks at me, his eyes darker now, in the unlit basement, than they were even last night on the beach. “Who’s going to stop them from killing us? You? A little omega girl who doesn’t know when to quit?”

“I’m not little,” I snap. God, why is he like this? “And yeah, it’s a good thing I don’t know when to quit, because apparently that’s all that stands between you and suicidal sulking. So stop being so Shakespearean tragedy and help me.”

“I could never do theater,” Cardan muses aloud, letting his head fall back against the wall. “Wasn’t alpha enough for me, apparently.”

I frown at him. “Plenty of alphas do theater. Our school had a great theater program.” I would know—I volunteered as a stagehand enough times as a freshman and sophomore. It was something else to put on a college application, and I liked moving in the dark, not being seen but making everything run smoothly. But eventually I had to stop, too. Madoc never said outright that it was a waste of time, but…

“My brother didn’t like it,” Cardan says, like he’s finishing my thought. He picks at some loose plaster on the wall.

I end up just looking at him for a minute, mostly because I am shocked to hear him sound wistful. I didn’t know he was capable of it. “I think you would have been good,” I say, surprised to find I mean it. I mean, he has the looks, and he’s certainly proven to have a flair for the dramatic.

He turns his head to look back at me, and just like that we had zigzagged back from enemies, or rivals, or whatever we were, to allies. “I always thought so, too.”

---

“So,” Cardan says. “I stand in the door.”

“You do,” I affirm. “You make sure that whoever opens the door, all they see is you.”

“And you’ll be beside the door, out of sight,” he recites. “So you can grab them, disarm them, and pull them in.” He blinks at me. I’ve begun to notice the gold edging his near-black irises, the whole spectacle framed by dark eyelashes. I feel like if I look long enough, I might be able to pick out other colors in them. Eyes like black opals.

“Jude,” he says, like it’s the second time he’s said my name. “Earth to Duarte, hello. Can you actually do that?”

I blink too, shake out of it. “In theory.” I’ve only had to use what I’ve learned on martial arts mats or in boxing studios a few times outside of my lessons, and never on anyone actually armed. But I’m relatively small, so I’ve been taught specifically how to go against people stronger, taller, faster. And I’ve only ever frozen once.

“What if it’s two of them at the door?”

“It won’t be. It’s been one at the door, one at the table all day. You noticed too, right?”

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “So, the tricky part. You lock person one in the room, I go for whoever’s at the table.” He sneers. “‘Go for.’ Like, what, a linebacker?”

“Again, you’re an alpha.” I did not in my life ever think I would be giving Cardan a pep talk, much less this pep talk. “Use those reflexes.”

“My reflexes are rusty.”

“You’d better oil them fast.”

He exhales audibly. “Okay. So I grapple with—whoever’s at the table, under the hope that they’re surprised enough when their buddy gets grabbed that they’ll be slow getting out the gun. And if they do?”

“You’re too valuable to kill until they have your money.”

“They could wound me.”

I roll my eyes. “I could wound you. Suck it up.”

Cardan chuckles softly and touches his side like he’s already imagining bruises blossoming there. “Ouch.”

“You’ll only be without me for a few seconds,” I reassure him. “You draw focus, keep them on the ground, and then I’ll show up, hopefully armed. Then we’re good.”

“And if we’re not good, you just leave me. You just run.” He gives me a weirdly intense look. “Right? I’m the one they want, anyway.”

“It won’t come to that,” I say.

“But if it does.”

“Cardan.”

“I have concerns.”

I bite the inside of my cheek before I can tell him he’s an idiot if he doesn’t have concerns. “What are they?”

“The third man. I haven’t seen him since yesterday, and you haven’t seen him at all. We know what the other two are like, but you have no read on him and I don’t really trust mine.”

That is a good concern, although I’m loath to give Cardan any credit. It had crossed my mind too, along with the possibility that Cardan might have been too drowsy while he was coming out of his drugged haze and made a mistake. But even if he was in a stupor, it isn’t likely that he mistook a scarred man of medium height or a short woman for a tall man with no scars at all.

“Maybe he’s the ringleader,” I suggest. “He might have left once we were settled in.”

“Might have,” Cardan agrees, but he sounds unconvinced.

We pass the rest of the day like that, in our precarious truce. When one of us has an idea, we speak up, trade it back and forth for a while. And then silence again. It would be incredibly boring, and almost is without my phone, except that Cardan is right: this might be literally life or death.

Our captors let us out a few more times to use the bathroom. In the evening, they bring us cold, dry pre-packaged deli sandwiches from a supermarket and an extra pillow and blanket for Cardan, because I am on the mattress and there was only supposed to be one of us. Cardan just accepts the bedding and food, quiet for once. I know he’s wondering the same thing I am: whether they still mean to kill us, or whether we’re worth more alive.

When the light has totally vanished from our tiny window and we have both exhausted our store of potential plans, Cardan unties his shoes, props his pillow in the corner, and starts making himself as comfortable as possible on the floor.

“What are you doing?” I ask, before my brain catches up to my mouth.

“I think this is called ‘sleeping,’” he replies. “I thought everybody did it, but I guess with all those AP classes and mock trial and…”

I roll my eyes. “It’s a big enough mattress,” I say. “Just don’t touch me.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.” I scoot to the side of the mattress, the one closer to the wall, and turn onto my side, away from the spot I’m vacating for him. “Before I change my mind.”

Cardan seems to realize I actually do mean it, so about half a second later I feel him crawl onto the mattress and flop down. And just as he’s groaning, “God, that is better,” even though the mattress is old and stained and doesn’t smell great, I realize I’ve made a gigantic mistake, because my body is a live wire and not even for the reason he’d think.

I glance over my shoulder at him, and although it’s hard to make out details in the dark, I can see that he is also on his side with his back to me, his midnight curls a stark contrast against the pillow. Breathe, I tell myself. For about five years, Cardan could not have been clearer that he does not want me in any conceivable way, and we’re not in the danger zone yet. There is no “safe” in our situation, but I am at least protected from that.

“I can feel you staring,” he says to the empty air.

Startled, I almost bite down on my own tongue. I turn back around and curl my knees to my chest. I don’t want to ask. Asking would be the worst thing in the world. Asking would be admitting to fear, and naming fear gives it power.

But I am spared when Cardan says, unprompted, “I’m not going to try anything, Jesus.” The Don’t you know that? hangs unspoken in the air between us, because I should know it, seeing as he’s been telling me I stink for years. That while his kind ostensibly was made to dominate mine, my chemicals do not agree with his, and so he would never stoop to that level.

I get it. And sure, it stings to be unwanted, but not so much now, because I can sleep through the night with Cardan at my back and really, truly not worry about being prey. “Right,” I say. “Good. Because you’re the last person in the world I’d want that from, anyway.”

“Yes, you’ve made that clear.”

Never mind that he made it clear first. I burrow into my pillow as best I can. “Well, enjoy your uninterrupted sleep.”

I expect a smart remark from him, but there’s nothing but a sigh. Then, because I am listening carefully, I hear his breathing grow long and even, and I realize he actually has fallen asleep. He isn’t too nervous, too tense to be kept awake. I am both of those things, but also exhausted, so I guess I can understand that eventually, exhaustion has its way.

It’s weird that twenty-four hours ago he was one of the people I hated most in the world, someone who stood in for the system that had scorned me my whole life. He still might be, outside these walls. But for now he’s just a boy, sleeping at my back.

I close my eyes, and sleep too.

#jurdan #judecardan #jude x cardan #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #the cruel prince #the folk of the air #tfota #the wicked king #the queen of nothing #jurdan fanfic #mine: fic #fic: 132 hours

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curiosity-killed · 3 years

Text

evidence of a lost past part 3

(chronologically before part 1 or part 2)

“Xie-gege?” Lang Ying calls from behind the cold storage. “You’ve got some friends here for you.” Frowning, Xie Lian straightens up from where he’d been crouched to organize the oatmeal shelf and dusts his hands off on his jeans. He doesn’t really have friends, to say nothing of people who would surprise him at work. He steps around the shelving unit at the same time that Lang Ying brings the visitors through the crowded entry hall. Spotting them, Xie Lian freezes. Skepticism is painted in broad strokes across Lang Ying’s face as he looks up at the men beside him before turning toward Xie Lian. “So,” he starts, eyeing the two sidelong again. “Nan Feng,” Feng Xin blurts out, as if answering a question, “and Fu Yao.”

Lang Ying’s eyes narrow a moment, but he just gives a slow nod. “I’ll be in the pantry if you need anything, Xie-gege,” he says. Xie Lian smiles reflexively, a silly sense of gratitude easing through him at Lang Ying’s quiet protectiveness. Aside from the cold storage, the pantry is the closest room to this back storage. “Thanks, a-Ying,” he says, waving him on. When he’s left, Xie Lian takes a bracing breath and turns to his old friends. He doesn’t know if there’s a polite way to tell them that no one in this community center would recognize the names of ballet stars, no matter how prominent. If anything, their fake names and…disguises make them far more suspicious: Mu Qing is wearing a suit, clearly tailored and accented with silver metallic embellishments, while Feng Xin wears a windsuit set that would better belong to a 90s boy band. “Ah,” Xie Lian says, struggling to think of anything to say, and rubs his forehead with the knuckle of his thumb. “Hi.” “You work in this place?” Mu Qing demands. His arms are crossed, bunching up his jacket, and the tail of his long ponytail catches on his shoulder. The last few inches are a surprising platinum blond, and Xie Lian vaguely recalls hearing something about a commercial deal last year or so. “Why do you have to say it like that?” Feng Xin demands. “So what if he works here? What do you have against a—a…” “Community center,” Xie Lian offers when it’s clear he doesn’t know what to call it. “And I do. Puqi’s been my home for the past year or so.” Feng Xin’s face does something complicated at that which Xie Lian can no longer wholly read. He thinks part of it at least is embarrassment, which is alright. It must be strange for them, to see him here in jeans stained with gravel dust around the knees and a t-shirt with a tubby cartoon tiger declaring ‘STRIPES ARE BEAUTIFUL.’ “Here, would you rather sit? There are some chairs in the lounge we could pull in,” he says. The lounge isn’t really a lounge so much as the storage room for donated furniture. Still, sometimes he and Lang Ying will take a breather back there and split a sweet bun from the bakery down the block, and it feels like a secret spot just for the staff. “No,” Mu Qing says immediately. His lip has pulled back a little, as if disgusted by the prospect. “We aren’t staying.” Oh. Xie Lian can’t quite help the disappointment that sinks through his chest at that. It’s not like he expected them to stay or try to be friends again, not after how he left things, but—well, with them coming here, he’d almost thought— “Oh, that’s alright,” he says with a bright smile. “Is there something I can help you with?” The two of them share a look that Xie Lian really can’t read at all. Back when he left, Feng Xin had only been speaking to Mu Qing to tell him to fuck off, and they certainly hadn’t been sharing any meaningful looks unless they were glares. It’s…it’s good, that they’ve found a friend in each other. He wishes they’d gotten along better when they were young, but it’s nice that they can be friends now. “Jun Wu said you were here,” Feng Xin says, grudging, dropping his gaze. “And we just—well, it’s been a long time. Figured we should check on you.” That phrase again. Eight years feels like a millennium, long enough that his past life feels more dreamlike than real most days. Long enough he certainly wouldn’t expect them to check in on him. He smiles. “Ah, that’s very kind of you,” he says, “but there’s no need to worry. I’m quite well, and you two must be so busy. Rehearsals for Nutcracker must have started by now, haven’t they?” He remembers when they were all young and dragging through endless rehearsals, when Feng Xin would grumble about having Tchaikovsky’s score stuck on his head all hours of the day and Mu Qing would scowl at him from across the costumes he helped sew as an after school job. “Yeah,” Feng Xin says. “They have. We get Sundays off for now.” Xie Lian nods, maintaining his polite smile. He’s really not sure what they want from him or why they’ve stopped by. This stilted half-conversation can’t actually be it. “You really live like this?” Mu Qing demands. “Puttering around this concrete floor, looking like…that.” Blinking once, Xie Lian folds his hands together and firms his spine. He’s gotten used to the trajectory of his life by now, and it doesn’t bother him even if no one else understands it. He knows why he’s here, knows he made the right choice for himself. Before he can answer, the bell over the front door chimes, and bootheels clip across the concrete floor. There’s a polite rap at the doorframe leading into the storage area where only employees are allowed. “Gege?” Xie Lian flushes at the way Mu Qing and Feng Xin stiffen and whip around toward the door and silently exhales a breath of relief at Hua Cheng’s timing. Probably his arrival won’t make it less awkward, but he’d rather have Hua Cheng here than handle this alone, even if that makes him a coward. “Ah San Lang, come in,” he calls. “There are just a couple visitors.” “San Lang?” Feng Xin echoes, twisting to gawk at the door. It’s obvious the moment he spots Hua Cheng, because his entire back goes tight and still, and Mu Qing bristles like a cat, fingers digging into his jacket sleeves. Hua Cheng passes around the far wall of shelves and doesn’t pause even as he gives the two of them a quick, unimpressed once-over. “Hey gege,” he greets, brushing past them to smile at Xie Lian. Xie Lian can’t help returning the look, delight bubbling up in him at the easy happiness Hua Cheng wears in his expression. “Hi San Lang,” he replies. “These two are—um. Nan Feng and Fu Yao. Old…school friends of mine.” Hua Cheng doesn’t bother looking at them before turning to Xie Lian with an eyebrow arched as if to ask ‘are you serious?’ Xie Lian is helpless to respond except for a casual shrug. If Feng Xin and Mu Qing insist on using false names, he’ll respect their wishes no matter how nonsensical it seems. “You—!” Feng Xin hisses, hands balled up into fists at his sides. “Me,” Hua Cheng agrees flatly. “Gege, are these new volunteers? I bet that one could sweep out the storage rooms while I take you to get lunch.” At the obvious look Hua Cheng sends him, Mu Qing’s lips pull back in blatant disgust and indignation. Biting his lip, Xie Lian holds in laughter. It isn’t nice to tease like that, but—well, it is kind of nice to have someone willing to do it for him. “Ah there’s no need,” he says quickly. “They were just stopping by to say hi.” He thinks. He’s still not really sure what’s going on here. “Oh?” Hua Cheng says. “So you’re leaving, then.” He says it straight to Feng Xin and Mu Qing, and despite their spluttering, Xie Lian has to hold in a startled laugh. He tugs gently at Hua Cheng’s elbow. “San Lang,” he scolds without any heat. The grin Hua Cheng tosses him is carefree and boyish, and it makes something funny and bright burst in Xie Lian’s chest. Maybe it’s alright to tease a little, if it earns him such cute looks. “Fine,” Mu Qing says. “Whatever. I have work to do.” He pivots on his heel and starts stalking toward the door without waiting to see if Feng Xin is following. Left behind, Feng Xin hesitates a moment, lips parted as if to speak. Finally, he swallows and purses his lips. “Just—be careful, okay?” he says like an order instead of a request. “If you need anything—I mean. I still have the same phone number.” A softer smile slips across Xie Lian’s lips at that, and he gives a little nod. “Me, too,” he admits. “Be safe getting home.” Feng Xin grunts and waffles a moment longer before hurrying after Mu Qing, his windsuit pants rustling away. Xie Lian can hear him all the way to the door. When the bell chimes, he sighs and turns back to see Hua Cheng leaning against the corner of the wall with his eye narrowed in amusement. “You get such interesting visitors, gege,” he says cheerfully. “San Lang ah,” Xie Lian complains, helpless. It’s impossible to feel at all cross when the whole situation was so absurd and Hua Cheng seems so childishly pleased. His grin broadens and turns brighter, more honest, as Xie Lian finally lets himself laugh at it all. “Ah, enough,” Xie Lian says, covering his eyes briefly. Shaking his head, he drops his hand. “Have you eaten? I brought some leftovers we could share, if you want.” “Gege’s cooking?” Hua Cheng asks, offering out his arm like a gentleman. “It must be my lucky day.” Xie Lian laughs at that, bright and easy, and lets himself be led.

#tgcf #tgcf fic #heaven official's blessing #hob fic #tgcf au #dance au #xie lian #hua cheng #feng xin #mu qing #my writing #story: evidence of a lost past #guess where i spent my evening #anyway #making fun of fengqing is very fun

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neonwizardheehee · 3 years

Text

Universe Hipsters Fanmeet

210114 (pics and captions from twt)

First of all: I never imagined that the MV would get THIS many views and we’d make it for the goal for 1mio in 24h!!!! It still feels unreal and I stg I never streamed this hard (EFLs are known for being bad at streaming)

>>>> Fast forward we actually got a date for an online fanmeet!!!!!

Our dearest Universe Hipsters/Cowards actually sang their 2 others songs - and made everyone cry out of feels!

“HE LOOKS SO GOOD I’M FAINTING”

They looked THIS good. Both of them T.T

“a reminder that when heechul went to the police station to sue malicious commenters, he kinda looked like this“

Hanryang has a strong lyrics and seeing that reminded me of what a tough year 2020 was for him and Petals! We didn’t get to see him for a long time and had to hear the nastiest things from other fandoms (I actually lost a friend bc we fought so much bc of that oof). I clearly remember the live when he went to the police station and I was SO proud of him! He’s so strong and didn’t let the haters get to him. Over the year I learned so much about how to deal with haters - from himself. And I’m so grateful for that bc I clearly live a more peaceful life now and don’t get frustrated anymore!

DINDIN IS DINDIN!!!! This so is sooo my jam and I lost it when he came in and performed it T.T (my friends had to tell me to stop singing with him hahha!)

“dindin in his classroom waiting with his dads for the parents-teacher conference“

At this point I was just buffering in happy! Even tho I didn’t understand a thing it was the best thing I’ve seen - plus all the jokes about Dindin looking like their kid!

“bibi ma’am how can you be this gorgeous“

me and the whole tl were simping over her YET AGAIN - bibi we already adopted you <3<3<3 you’re so cool and precious

“elfs collecting babies”

And the family jokes kept coming XDDD

fun fact: Bibi is 1cm taller than Dindin

Heechul 83liner, Bibi 98liner, Dindin 91liner, Kyunghoon 84liner

“why was i thinking super junior’s gonna appear and perform burn the floor bc of the light“

Suddenly a black screen!!!! AND THEN ATEEZ SHOWED UP! Their performances were so cool T.T Afterwards Kyungchul cared so much for them - MY HEART. The way they adopted Ateez - Elfs found new friends in Atinys who made this possible. With their streaming this was only possible and I am so so thankful for them!

The Hanryang Stage was just everything! Ateez were soooooo hyped and happy to be there!!!! Kyunghoon was so so comfortable (usually he can be quite awkward), Bibi was being the queen we deserved and Dindin was so cool T.T

Heechul tho.. as a petal I couldn’t stop smiling. This felt so good and so right! Seeing him happy singing and rapping - smth we didn’t get to see last year to this extent! Also he said he remembered loads of things from when he wrote raps and rapped for Suju and was once again reminded how much he likes making music (Sir, we’re waiting for that Flower Petal album hihihi).

Esp for me who’s not initally sold on ballads this was even more a win for me and I’d be lying if Heechul’s deep voice doesn’t send shivers down my spine!

Seeing him being a natural and effortless MC, making sure everyone is comfortable and looking THIS good - this felt like heaven. Maybe I am so overwhelmed bc I witnessed friends seeing concerts and their ults last year while I couldn’t - so now I KNEW this was even more special and the closest and most center Heechul I’d ever get. It truly felt like more than a livestream bc of all the surroundings!

It was made even better bc in contrary to a year ago I wasn’t alone! Our squad today was quite fun tho:

My girl who loves Bibi so much,

a friend who ults Ateez

and me who fell for Dindin a year ago

and we all simped so much for Heechul here! It was smth I experienced for the first time and BOI it felt great - I am so grateful.

Another thing: Kyunghoon. Oh boi I was so intrigued and crossing my fingers for him during the show - he is a ballad singer who hadn’t done hiphop before. He was struggling a lot but WOW the way he improved SO much and made smth so so beautiful??? My mind is blown! I can’t even comprehend what a win this is for Rockins’!!!! You guys rock and Buzz ist truly a great band T.T

So in the end it was THAT experience for me I’d never thought I’d get. I even had my Suju bong with Chullie’s name on it! When I got it and put his name on it I was so sad bc I’d never though I could wave it to him singing his own song. That changed now and I can’t believe I was THAT lucky T.T

Thanks to everyone involved and everyone who helped to make this possible! I think we’re over 5 fandoms who got together through this and I am once again reminded how great Kpop can be - sharing the loves for our favs!

#heechul #kyunghoon #super junior #ateez #hanryang #universe hipsters #kyungchul #bibi #dindin #knowing bros #ask us anything #atiny #suju #THANK YOU EVERYONE #space cowards

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teetlesandnimjas · 4 years

Text

Give Donnie a musical number cowards. HE ONLY GOT A LITTLE RAP- it’s not enough. I want a full Broadway-style musical number. WITH a rap bridge. A whole musical number. J U S T F O R H I M. He had his two lines in Snow Day, he had one short rap and the beginning of a second one before blowing up a statue. It was great, I love him, thank you. NOW GIVE HIM A WHOLE SONG. YOURE GOING TO GIVE DRAXUM A SONG OVER D O N N I E? Don’t get me wrong, John Cena singing a musical number was amazing, loved it. BUT I WANT MY BOY TO- as he puts it- DAZZLE AND SHINE! Let him do it COWARDS. He deserves it. Literally let it be about anything, I don’t care. But LET HIM SING AND RAP AND PREFORM. Cmon he can do a full split, you bet your A S S he can full out preform. Dancing, singing, maybe not acting but he TRIES HIS BEST. He’s a bad liar it’s okay. DoESNT MATTER NOW. I know you’re scared of the power he holds through song, we all are. And we don’t deserve it. BUT WE NEED IT. PLEASE. LET 👏 HIM 👏 S I N G 👏 YOU 👏

C O W 👏 A R D S 👏

(But no pressure I trust you guyses sjsjsjsj I do want a musical number for my boy tho so if you have the time and the budget I would like it please)

#tw// swearing #i said ass and i feel bad #i always tag the swearing for reasons #i say fuck alot so #i just want people to feel safe snsjsjsjsjsjs #anyways #rottmnt #rottmnt donnie #important #V E R Y important #please i am begging #givedonnieamusicalnumbercowards

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femmeharringrove · 3 years

Text

so we all know dream on is billy's snapping point song, but we don't have one for steve and i personally think it should be i don't care anymore by phil collins.

steve used to play the drums a lot. he's a guitar dude now but he still bangs out a beat every now and again, usually drumming against his thigh or a desk. when the drum in a song is good, he can't help but tap out the tune, muscle memory and trained ear guiding him through it.

and phil collins, well, he's simply the best drummer.

and he's good at catching steve's emotions in his songs. he's perched in the safety of his car in november - things are sort of back to normal, will isn't possessed and he drives kids around sometimes and passes by tommy's house and remembers that he fucked that up, he avoids billy hargrove as much as he can, avoids nancy and jonathan in spite of their efforts to hang out, he avoids everyone really. the town's golden boy is tarnished now and it's an isolating experience. he doesn't really have anyone anymore.

it's one of the last rain storms of the year and he glares at the rain streaming outside of the car, eyes hard with unshed tears. his knuckles and fingers move in a pattern he's aquatinted himself with over the years, and his voice sings along, barely above a whisper.

"well you can tell everyone i'm a down disgrace, drag my name all over the place, i don't care anymore. you can tell everybody 'bout the state i'm in, you won't catch me crying 'cus i just can't win, i don't care anymore. i don't care anymore, d'you hear?"

thunder growls at him and he blinks at the lightning that follows. he's so fucking tired.

"i don't care what you say, i don't play the same games you play."

he didn't come from the happy argumentative family of the hagans, or the sort of settled wheelers. and they didn't carry the name harrington on their shoulders, the weight ever-present and dragging him further and further down. he had never been like any of the people he'd grown close. and if they'd never been the same in the first place, how could he expect them to stay? to love him, to want him? steve's voice creeps up slightly in volume.

"'cus i've been talking to the people that you call your friends, and it seems to me there's a means to an end, they don't care anymore."

he thinks bitterly of every bastard in hawkins high who ever pretended to love king steve and spits a bitter chuckle as he pushes forward, tapping the drums against his thigh.

"and as for me i can sit there and bide my time, i got nothing to lose if i speak my mind, i don't care anymore, i don't care no more."

who'd listen to him anyway? steve's learned not to share his darker emotions because they get overlooked every time. so what would it hurt if he told nancy she was bullshit? if he told billy he was a coward, of he called tommy a flake and yelled that he'd trust the Devil before he trusted a single person in that school? nobody listened to steve, his voice is always drowned out by a roaring storm.

"i don't care what you say, we never played by the same rules anyway."

that's it, the whole key. steve gives his all to people who don't know how to keep it. and then he ends up like this - heart hollow amd stomach churning and eyes burning from the pain welling within his chest.

"i won't be there anymore, get out of my way, let me by, i got better things to do with my time, i don't care anymore, i don't care anymore..."

in the process of bringing a hand up to scrub at his cheeks, steve hits his hand against the wheel and it hurts. but it's good, so he leaves his tender thigh alone and raps his knuckles against the wheel. his knuckles may not appreciate it later, but - well, he doesn't care, does he?

"well i don't care now, what you say, 'cus everyday i'm feeling fine with myself, and i don't care now what you say, hey i'll do alright by myself, 'cus i don't -"

there's a battle being fought between his will not to cry and the emotion bubbling and festering in his chest, and he's losing. steve's drumming gets harder and his voice gets louder and he doesn't want to care but, god, he does. and the world's crying outside his car, loud and angry, why shouldn't he do the same?

why couldn't he?

"'cus i remember all the times i tried so hard, and you laughed in my face 'cus you held all the cards, i don't care anymore, and i really ain't bothered what you think of me, 'cus all i want of you is just a let me be, i don't care anymore, you hear i don't care no more!"

and yeah, he's yelling. and he is crying, and he hasn't cried in so long and it's like every hurt and fear he's faced is just pouring out, and he's banging against the wheel with more force than he needs to be using but he's so frustrated that it's all he can do. but it's still not enough.

because life's fucked him over at every turn and he's been hurting and scared and lost for longer than he's been dealing with monsters and it's not fair. steve doesn't understand what he's doing wrong, and for once he's angry at the world on his own behalf. he doesn't want to hurt, he doesn't want be get abandoned, he doesn't want to care.

but here he is, hurting and abandoned and caring so much he thinks it'll kill him.

and suddenly it's not enough to keep in the car. steve haphazardly turns the volume up loud and stumbles blindly out of the car and he screams the lyrics now, choking on sobs, he wants the world to listen this time. he wants hawkins to hear his heart breaking and he hopes to god they know it's their fault.

"i don't care what you say, i never did believe you much anyway, i won't be there no more, so get out of my way, let me by, i got better things to do with my time, i don't care anymore! i don't care no more! you hear me, i don't care anymore! you listening? i don't care no more!"

and as phil belts with the crescendo steve just yells, because nobody's listening anyway and he's struck with the realization that if he did leave, if he wasn't there anymore, nobody would care anyway.

and somewhere between the screaming and the crying he ends up on his knees and he thinks he's broken something inside of himself emotionally because he's never felt so much pain at once and it makes him cry like the grief is trying to claw it's way out of his chest. and he doesn't know when the song ends, if it ends, how long he sits there weeping, and roaring with the storm, but someone finds him at some point.

he's too charged to take note of who, but someone's on their knees with him, and he looks at blue eyes pooling with a sort of understanding he's not used to, and steve doesn't think twice before curling into their embrace, their bulk sheltering him from the rain.

"that's it, pretty boy, let it out," they soothe, and steve tries telling him he doesn't care anymore but all that keeps coming are those painful cries. and the whole time he cries, the other stays with him, and he feels less alone in that moment than he has in a while.

#have yall tried this it feels fucking good to scream in a storm #go feral babes!!#steebie writes #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington #harringrove #because yall know who shows up at the end #also i'm just really obsessed with phil collins right now what is this

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sweetmisschesire · 3 years

Text

Pt 3

Eve

Her fight is similar however there is way more fighting

Between the brothers

Between eve and west

Between eve and zuke

West’s bitterness and jealousy comes out

While zuke’s frustrations about how his brother treated him after college and everything else comes out

Z: her art has really changed

W: i think it looks great

Z: it does but it’s like it’s missing...her. It’s missing nadia

“My name is eve. And my district would disagree. They prfer this art. The other kind was taking to long to make.”

Z: do you even get to enjoy your art anymore

“That does not matter anymore.”

They manage to beat eve with her retreating into her realm

Zuke and west argue some more but manage to somewhat reconcile and zuke follows eve

They talk like they do in the game till one point

Z: she’s right i do owe you an apology and more than that. I wish i could make this up to you but you dont need me, you complete yourself.

“I hate this art, but it’s all i can make anymore.”

Z: you shouldn’t let your fans control you, remember they dont complete you, only you can complete yourself.

Zuke goes to leave when eve speaks

“She’s not a bad person, she’s actually very kind. But she can never be herself.”

Z:... why not

“She’s scared, it’s all she was ever taught. We’re all scared.”

Interlude

during the walk back the brothers talk some more and discuss things more civily

While it doesn’t completely fix things, this talk and the revolution have defintely repaired thier relationship by a lot

Tatiana

Again like the canon fight but dialogue changes

“You dont have what it takes to power the city youre music will never be enough, especialy not on its own”

W: we’ll see about that, lets show this woman what rock and rap can do

“You still just dont understand.”

The fight continues up to the point where it gets revealed that shes Kul Fyra

W:...who?

Z: ugh west.

W: what?!

Z: shes a rock star, one of the best. Or she was.

“No i am not Kul Fyra, i will never be her again. She was weak, unable to be what her fans wanted of her. But now i can provide so much more than she could.”

Z: at what cost though

They fight as they talk some more

Z: seriously the nsr artists, they cant take anymore i dont think you can either

“ YOU dont THINK? What would you know? They have powered Vinyl City for years. Practiced their arts and skills for years. Were granted powers for their dedication! They provide the people their needs!”

W: what about thier needs? The needs of your artists?

They manage to beat Tatiana and see that they haven’t even reached half capacity for power

“See you cannot do it.”

Z: neither can you. Any of you.

“How dare you.”

Z: you all are going to kill yourself! Yinu and the sayu team dont get to be kids, djss lost part of his dream, neon j never stops working and knows nothing beyond it!

“They are strong minded and capable how would you-“

Z: eve- hell part of thats my fault cause im a coward but she doesn’t get to enjoy her art or put herself into it. She just keeps shelling it out without any heart and its affecting her badly!

Z: and i don’t even know even where to start with maysibelle. She’s afraid of her own emotions and is even more scared to show her face! Thats not okay!

“That is enough!”

Z: no you listen-

Kliff(k): she’s right zuke, that is enough.

The conversation between kliff and tatiana is the same mostly save for the fact that kliff doesnt beleive in the negative effects of idol worship, nor does he understand that what he feels is obsession not devotion

Z: what the heck is wrong with you kliff? Didn’t you listen to me when i was talking about what it’s done to the nsr artists?!

K: hah there’s no such thing, just weak artists who can’t handel the devotion thier fans show them

W: that isn’t devotion it’s obsession

So kliff argues with them and when he can’t bring them to his way of thinking he gets angry but it’s zuke who makes him snap

Z: hey everyone out there in vinyl city i know you can hear me. Look at your artists, look how exhausted they are. They do everything you want and you still demand more. They’re human.

Z: They have to be able to rest and gave time to themselves. They should be able to make mistakes and express themselves. They shouldn’t have to lock way their emotions. Just show them some respect. They don’t need worship, they need to be seen as human.

Kliff snaps and calls them traitors before turning to tatiana and speeing outbhis lines about hus devotion and then brings the satelites down

The brothers help and return the districts to the nsr artists as theyre taking the boys decline joining nsr

Z: i- don’t think we’ve earned that right yet. Maybe one day. Will you all be slright.

Tatiana: perhaps one day. We can only hope the people of Vinyl City listened to you. And in time perhaps things will change for the better.

And this is where the main part of the game ends, there’s still recovery needed to be done on the nsr artists part after all of this after all

Please feel free to ask question i would love to answer them

#no straight roads #nsr #nsr au #no straight roads au #no worshiped roads #nwr #nsr zuke #nsr dk west #nsr kliff #nsr eve #nsr tatiana

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sugarbutterbroadway · 4 years

Text

King Of Manhattan

A/n Since newsies has been living rent free in my head and keeping me up at all hours of the night take the Sprace fic.

He knew this day was coming, it was inevitable. He knew one of these days Jack wouldn’t be there to lead, he knew he got far too comfy in his position as Jack’s second, he knew and he knew and he knew. But it still came to him as a shock when Jack pulled him from his gambling and asked if they could take a walk. So here they were, walking, and talking. Well, Jack was talking. Race’s mind was going a mile a minute. My time is up kid, the boys is yours now, make me proud. The sentence was simple enough,straight to the point, it was very Jack. But that didn’t stop his stomach from sinking. These boys is mine now, it was playing in his brain on a loop.

“J-Jack I can’t-”He stammered, his heart thumped against his chest.

“Yes you can”Jack said, “You’s my second for a reason Race, these boys need you”

These boys need me. He felt his heart thumping in his ears, how was his heart in his ears?

“Race”Jack said, or did he even say that? It felt like he was underwater. “Race!”

He tried to speak, but that posed a new issue. He couldn’t breathe, why couldn’t he breathe? Without a second glance he turned and took off. He could hear Jack calling him and maybe he ran too but all Race could focus on was getting the hell out of there. His brain switched off and the only thoughts going were Jack's words.

My time is up kid

The boys is yours now

Make me proud

These boys need you

He was a coward, god he was a coward. He could never show his face in Manhattan again without getting soaked but he just can’t. He knew and he knew and he knew but he didn’t know he was so short on time. He didn’t know the first thing about being a leader, that was all Jack and Davey. He barely knew how to be a second, he just knew that he had a good right hook and was the only one besides Davey who was allowed to get mouthy without getting popped. He knew how to flirt and to sell his papes and to gamble, but what about the little ones? He didn’t have a responsible bone in his body! What if someone got sick on his watch? What if one of his boys got soaked? Good god what if one of them died? No he couldn’t, not again, he’d take a swim with weighted shoes before that happened--He was cut short by his face meeting a brick wall and a weight against his back.

“Oh Spot’s gonna ‘ave a lota fun with this one”

Spot? He was in Brooklyn?

“Should we soak ‘im?”

“Nah, let's wait for what boss’ gotta say”

“But I wanna soak ‘im!”

“Keep it togetha shorty, you know how boss feels ‘bout soakin’ random people

“But I-”

“It’s bout past your bedtime anyways, you wan’ me to tell ‘im bout that too?” Race could almost feel the shift in their tone. Reminded him of when he got into his ma’s bag of sugar as a kid, oh this little brat was in for a scolding. He heard a huff from shorty—if that was even their name—and a chuckle from the older person. Shame flooded him, it was getting late. He should be with his littles tucking them into bed, not runnin like a coward. He was spun around quickly and met with wide eyes. He had half a mind to brace himself for a soakin but all they did was stare.

“You’s Spot’s boy, yeah?”They said. His face flushed and he nodded hesitantly. Sure they were closer than your average pals but being labeled as Spot’s boy made his stomach flip. The boy laughed and dusted off Race’s chest, still a little hard because the blonde had to bite back a wince.

“You see”He said facing towards the little girl, “This is why we don’ soak random people. Boy Spot woulda had my rear for sure” he turned back to Race and tipped off his hat, his hair was black but a white tuft stuck out towards the front. “The names Blanco, this is shorty.”

“A pleasure”Race said carefully. “It was great to meet you’s but I should be-”

“Nah you’s not goin nowhere”Blanco said, “Spot would really kick my as-rear if he heard you was in Brooklyn and didn’t stop by. It’s late anyways, you was lucky bumpin into us but not all of us take too kindly to Manhattan boys, Spots or not”

Blanco had a point. If he was going to be the new leader that meant he got to do what he wanted, right? One night out without being on Jack’s radar wouldn’t kill him, it was exciting even. He nodded and gestured for them to lead the way. Blanco smirked and put his cap back on, Shorty’s hand in his.

“Glad we agree”

The walk to their lodging was long, he mustn't have been that far across the bridge. Or maybe his legs were ready to give out because he was exhausted. His heart had finally stopped beating so hard and all he wanted to do was sleep for a few days. Blanco must’ve noticed because he walked slower.

“I’d carry you but littles come first”He shrugged. Shorty had tapped out a while ago and was fast asleep on Blanco’s back. Race nodded and bit back a smile, they were kinda cute.

“She yer sister?”He asked. Blanco let out a loud laugh and shook his head.

“By blood? Nah. this girls’ blonder than them theatre gals with the powdery wigs. By principle? Yeah, all these littles ones is my brothers and sisters. Not sure how you’s all do it in Manhattan but we’s family here in Brooklyn”He said. Race wanted to snap back that they were family in Manhattan, just...not like this. Sure they covered each others asses and made sure everyone who needed to eat did but this...this was different.

“We’s family in Manhattan”He said quietly, “You just look like you’s love her or somethin”

Blanco gave him a strange look, “I do love her, don’t you’s love each other in Manhattan?”

Race cringed and focused his gaze on the ground, he wasn’t sure if he really loved anyone. He loved his Ma when she was here, and his Pa and his sister, but that had been a long time ago. You didn’t do things out of love, you did them because they were right. It would be terrible to leave them poor boys starvin or cold. He didn’t realize the boy was waiting for an answer until he cleared his throat.

“I dunno”He said in the same tone. It was silent for a bit as they walked, but he couldn’t help himself. “How do you know you’s love someone?”

“Well”Blanco said, sparing a glance at Shorty. “You’s love someone when you’d do anything for them,when you want to make sure they’s safe and they’s eatin. But there’s different kinds of love too, I don’t love my beau the same way I’s love Shorty”

Race nodded slowly, he could understand that. Blanco continued. “I’d do anything for both of them, in a heartbeat. But my Beau and I hold hands and go see the races, Shorty and I play tag in the park and I’s make sure she does her take home work. It’s different but similar, ya know?”

He nodded again, things needed to change in Manhattan. He wanted what Brooklyn had, his boys deserved it. Sure they were friends but they can be closer than that, they could be family. When he got home he’d tell Jack everything about it. He tried to stifle a yawn but failed miserably.

“We’s almost there kid”Blanco said, it made Race feel warm when he said it.

“How old’re you Blanco?”he slurred.

“ ‘m almost nineteen kid”He said. Race’s eyes popped out of his skull.

“Lies!”He exclaimed, “Ain’t no one sellin past eighteen, Jack said so!”

“If ya look young, no one can tell”He said with a wink. “Ain’t no one rat me out yet, ima keep sellin until I can afford me a place”

“That’s insanity”Race said in awe.

“It works”He shrugged, “You looks like you fourteen, and i’m hoping you’re not cause then Spot and I would need to have a long talk-”

“Alright keep yer pants on, i’m sixteen!”He snapped. “I don’ look that young”

“Lookin young ain’t bad, it sells”He said.

“Why’re you telling me this?”Race asked.

“Why would I hide it?”He said. He wanted to answer but as the lodging house came into view all his mind could think of was Love. Spot. Bed. and he was off like a rocket. He heard Blanco laugh but he didn’t care as he rapped his knuckles on the door. He continued doing so until it was thrown open. His chest pounded as the smaller boy looked up at him with murder in his eyes.

“Surprise?”He said weakly.

“You’s gotta lot of explainin to do Racetrack”Spot said, his voice was gravely and his eyes were still partially shut. “And you better not be here alone, or i’m soakin-”

“We’s home”Blanco said, possibly saving Race from the worst scolding of his life.

“You had ‘im?”Spot asked.

“Found ‘im at the bridge, Shorty almost soaked ‘im ‘til we realized he was your boy”

Spot grunted and kicked the back of Blanco’s leg as he walked inside, “He’s not my boy. Go put Shorty to bed and get in one yerself before you’s sleepin on the roof tonight”

“Aye aye boss”He said. He sent a wink Race’s way and carried the sleeping girl up the stairs.

“Spot-”

“What the hell ‘re you doin in Brooklyn?”Spot demanded, “It’s almost midnight. If i wake up to Jack’s ugly mug busting down my door ima-”

“Jacks stepping down”He said quickly, he balled his fists up to keep them from shaking. “A-and I’s his second so that means…”

“I see”Spot said, his voice deceivingly calm. “So he told you and you ran.”

“Yeah”He breathed, Spot always made things easier to say.

“That was a bad move Higgins”Spot said clicking his teeth, “you know how he gets when one of his boys is missing”

“I...I..”He felt that familiar tightness in his throat but this time his eyes burned in tandem. His knees buckled underneath him and soon he was looking up at Spot through blurry eyes. He felt horrible.

“Race…”Spot sighed.

“He’s gonna soak me good when i get back”He sniffled, “He’s gonna soak me a-and realize what a shitty second I am and how much of a coward I am and that I can’t even take care of myself and how am i gonna keep these boys alive!-”

“Racetrack”Spot snapped. Race looked up at him and felt like crying harder.

“And now i’m just here cryin like a loser”He said. Spot pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Get up”Spot said.

“But-”

“Race get up or i’m carryin you. You want me to carry you?”Spot asked. It was supposed to be a threat but Race couldn’t help but nod, he was so tired.

“You’s gonna be the death of me”Spot mumbled. With a surprising amount of ease he was hoisted over Spot’s shoulders and carried up the stairs. They passed the two dorm rooms and Race made a noise of confusion.

“You’ll see”Spot hummed. They went up a shorter flight of stairs and stopped before a room Race had never seen before. Spot twisted the knob and walked inside locking it. It even had a lock, fancy. Race felt his back hit a springy bed and the world was suddenly upside down as his legs folded towards his chest.

“Did you just throw me?”He chuckled.

“Yes I did”Spot said matter of factly. “Now tell me who I’s gotta soak”

“What?”He asked, tilting his head. Spot let out a sigh of annoyance.

“Who’s been callin you all that shit”Spot said impatiently, “let me know so I can soak ‘em”

“No one!”he said quickly, “but Spotty, no one’s gotta say it for it to be true”

“Racetrack Higgins you are so fucking dense”Spot snapped. He muttered an apology but Race was still tense. Spot only spoke all proper like when he was pissed.

“I mean you’s probably right, but ‘m not followin”He said slowly. Spot took a seat on the bed and ran a hand over his face.

“It’s just-you-ah!”Spot exclaimed, but he was laughing.

“Makin me nervous Spotty”he said, eying him weirdly.

“You are not a shitty second”Spot said instead. “Jack ain’t gonna soak you and do you realize how good you are to those boys?”

“Um...no”He said carefully. Spot rolled his eyes and shifted his legs so he was facing Race.

“You’s worried about taking over when Kelly leaves, right?”Spot said. He nodded.

“You got nothing to worry about, Race”Spot said. “Them boys adore you. You’s gonna lead ‘em just fine”

“No”He said shaking his head, “You don’ get it”

“Then make me get it.”Spot said, a fire blazed beneath his sleepy eyes. “We got all night”

“You need to sleep”He said instead, “You look dead”

“I’ll sleep when I get it”Spot said. “You may be the king of poker but I’m the king of arguing”

“And Brooklyn”He said half heartedly.

“And Brooklyn”Spot said with a little grin. “But come on Race, we ain’t never kept secrets”

“Yeah, about what dames we was kissin”He scoffed. Spot raised a brow and gently grabbed his hand.

“You kissin other dames?”

“You callin yourself a dame?”

“If the shoe fits”Spot shrugged, “Answer the question”

“No I ain’t kissin other dames!”He exclaimed, he was lucky Spot couldn’t see his cheeks redden in the darkness.

“Good”Spot said, and there he went again with that unreadable face. It was going to send Race into an early grave.

“Good?”He echoed.

“Good”Spot said, “But seriously Race, let me know what’s going on”

“Spot-”

“Race.”He said and squeezed his hand.

“Fine”He said. “It’s just…’m not Jack, ya know? I can’t make them boys listen or rile them up like he can, I can’t give ‘em words of wisdom like Davey...It feels like I'm not good for nothin. Like all I do is waste my days away gamblin or sellin or hidin here, feels like all I can do is make ‘em laugh and then once they’s done they forget about me. I ain’t important”

“You’re right”Spot said after a few beats, “You ain’t Jack or Davey” Race felt his heart shatter. “But that don’t mean you ain’t just as good. Jack ain’t always rational, he riles them boys up without a plan, and sometimes Davey talks too much an scares ‘em. They may be good at what they do but it don’t mean they ain’t got faults just like the rest of us.”

“I mean sure”He said, “But what’s that got to do with me? I’m useless”

“Don’t say that”Spot said immediately.

“Wh-”

“Antonio for the love of god promise me you will never say that about yourself again”

“I-I promise—Spot what the hell!”his chin was tilted down roughly so him and Spot were eye to eye.

“You are not useless”Spot spat. “If you could see yourself the way I see you you’d have an ego the size of New York! Racer you are one of the best things to happen to those boys, you’re gonna make Manhattan better! You’re way too kind for your own good and you’re smart as hell so never ever say you’re useless”

“I don know what to say Spotty”he said quietly.

“I know you’s scared Race”Spot continued. “And being scared is a good thing, if you’s scared to fuck things up then there’s a good chance you won’t. It means you care enough about your boys and you want the best for them, I know you’s gonna do good by them.”

“I don wanna do it alone”He said finally.

“You won’t have to”Spot said, “You already know if you ask Albert to be your second he’d say yes in a heartbeat”

“I know”He said, “Just...just forget I said anything, goodnight”He rolled over on the twin sized bed and faced the wall. His head felt clearer but his heart still felt heavy.

“You got Brooklyn in your corner too,”Spot said suddenly. “We ain’t abandoning you just cause the strike is done”

“Your kids don’t even like Manhattan, give it a rest”He scoffed.

“My kids answer to me”Spot said, “And what I say goes. You got Brooklyn, end of discussion”

And there was that famous Racetrack temper rearing its head. “W-well maybe I don’t want all of Brooklyn!”

“We’s one of the biggest boroughs, of course you do!”

“Well maybe I just want you!”He exclaimed. He clamped a hand over his mouth. Maybe he should’ve just gotten soaked and sent home earlier. He waited for Spot to say something, anything. But he was just met with silence.

“Spot I’m sor-”

“No”Spot said shaking his head.

“I should’ve said anything-”

“No Racer”Spot said firmly, “Just...just gimme a second, you know I ain’t good with words”

“Okay”he said quietly.

“I um...oh my god”Spot said with a slight chuckle, “You snuck up on me Racetrack”

“ ‘m not following again, am I getting soaked or not?”He said. Spot waved him off. “I ain’t gonna hit you Race”

“Okay great”He sighed, “Then what the hell does that mean?”

“You just..I never planned on no one like you.”Spot said, shaking his head, “I had my whole future planned out, marry a dame, work in a factory, have a few kids. Girls are nice I guess, but they ain’t you”

“Do...do you love me?”He said innocently.

“Hell Race, I don’t know!”Spot exclaimed, “maybe?”

“When Blanco called me your boy you denied it”He said, “I don’t get it Spot”

“I didn’t know if that’s what you wanted”Spot said honestly. “I ain’t gonna force you to be with me”

“I want to”He said, “I wanna be your boy”

“Yeah?”Spot said in a shaky tone.

“Yeah”He said, pulling Spot so his back hit the bed, “We can do what Blanco and his Beau does. We can hold hands and see the races...and kiss and stuff”

“We already kiss and stuff,”Spot said, raising a brow.

“Yeah but now that you’re mine it’ll be better”He said, “I thought I knew what love was before I met you...now it’s...it’s so different”

“Do you love me Racetrack?”Spot said, shifting so his head was against Race’s chest.

“I think I do”He said softly, “Blanco said you’d do anything for the people you love and Spotty I’d...I just...you make me wanna be better, for myself and for our boys”

“You make me wanna stop bein so damn angry all the time”Spot said, “Seein you just makes me wanna slow down for a bit, take my time”

“I wanna kiss you”He said, running a finger through Spots hair. “Wanna make you feel how much I love you”

“We got plenty of time for that, we gotta get some sleep”

They sat in silence, Race combing through Spots hair as the sound of the city went on below. He was almost sure the smaller boy had fallen asleep before he felt a tap at his chest.

“Race?”

“Mm spotty?”

“I ain’t good with feelings either, but i’m fuckin gone for you.”

“I love you too, Spots. Honest”

—————————

Spot woke before the circulation bell started to ring. The sun had barely made its way into the sky, but he had to get Race back to Manhattan. He just wanted to sit there and take in the sight before him. The boy-his boys, blonde curls were all awry and his lips were parted as he slept soundly. They had a late night, he had half a mind to just let Race sleep it off, but the thought of Jack showing up here kicked his ass into motion. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to Race’s forehead, and another one to his cheeks.

“Sweetheart”He whispered, he blushed as the words left his mouth. He never thought of himself as the sappy type, it was weird. He peppered a few more kisses across the boys face before he started to stir. One blue eye peeked open and then another, Race was smiling before he knew what hit him.

“Good morning my angel”He whispered, combing his fingers through Race’s hair. “You ready to be king of Manhattan?”

“ ‘m your angel?”Race said in a sleepy voice.

“Yeah”he said with a grin, “Yeah you are”

“You’re a sap”

“Shut up”He said flicking Race’s skull “get up, we gotta get you back to Manhattan”

“No”Race whined and clung to Spots undershirt, “wanna stay here with you, just got you to myself…”

Spot's chest felt a little funny when he said that and he tried his best to shake it off, “Sweetheart, Jacks gonna worry…”

“Don care”Race mumbled, “Wanna spend today with you, love you…”

He bit back a squeak and quickly rubbed at his eyes. Maybe it was because he was fully awake but fuck did he love the way that sounded coming out of Race’s mouth.

“Oh you’re dangerous”He said under his breath.

“Come lay down”Race said, “We can cuddle-”

“Race”He warned. “And kiss-”

“Race, please-”he begged.

“I’ll even do that thing you like when I-”

“Alright alright”he said quickly. “Don’t gotta be evil about it”

“I win”Race said happily and wrapped his body around Spots once again. He let out a content sigh when Spots hand found his hair and scratched at his scalp.

“You’re a housecat”He said.

“I thought I was your angel”Race said with a yawn.

“That too”He said, “Get some more sleep, today’s about you and me”

Race nodded and Spot soon found out he slept like the dead. If he couldn’t feel him breathing he’d assumed Race had straight up died. He continued stroking the blonde’s curls and found himself unable to do anything but stare.

“No I never planned on no one like you”He sighed, “But you’re gonna be the death of me Antonio”

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