Another collection of 2nu stories, specifically for requests from 2nu-alliance on tumblr/discord. make sure to check it out!

This one's for ushimooshi: Noodle being harassed by drunk male fans and 2D stepping in

Enjoy!

i: protection

Some artists have the habit of gracing their fans with their presence after shows, slipping out the backdoor to take pictures and give autographs. They were never the kind to partake in such activities, though they will stop to pose for a selfie or two if they run into fans on the streets or in the airport. After their show, their return to the limelight after years of lying dormant, Murdoc thinks it's a good idea to go greet their admirers and boost their popularity a little more. They agree and so the band treads though the backstage, stepping over wires and evading the staff in their route to the street.

The air is chill tonight and her skin prickles with goosebumps. A suggestion from Russel made them pick the outfit for the night as the ones they wore in the music video for Saturnz Barz, which earned them excited screams from the audience upon stepping on stage for the first time in so long, together. Somewhere between the heat of the songs and the dancing whilst playing, Noodle had discarded her fuzzy, blue jacket and settled for rocking for the rest of the night in a simple black dress that clung to her slim figure like a second skin.

Now tired and away from the bright lights, she yearns for her jacket again. Still, she discreetly rubs her arms to keep them warm and smiles brightly at the cameras and the mass of loud fans waiting for them. The flashes are hard on her tired eyes, and Murdoc starts talking over all the noise until the thrilled shouting shifts into a conversation at a bearable volume. The group parts ways and the fans flock to their favorite members like moths to a flame.

Noodle plays with the cap of her pen and grins at her female fans that circle around her, shoving shirts, posters and CDs in front of her face to get her autograph. She writes her name in thick, intricate Japanese characters followed by a tiny heart, and tries her best to give them all equal attention. She leans into a fan's side and winks at the camera, and goes back to signing the same word over and over until her already stiff joints feel a little number. The guitarist bears it all with a smile, though, relishing in the joy of doing what she loves again.

She spares a few seconds to look at her bandmates – or what she can see of them above the heads of the people around her. It sucks to be so short and the heels of her ankle boots do very little to aid her. She can see Russel's red beanie at a distance and hears more than sees Murdoc with his fans. 2D is the easiest one to spot, also the one closest to where she stands. He bends down from time to time for pictures and smiles graciously at the fans looking at him with stars in their eyes. She bites the inside of her cheek to keep her fond smile to herself and diminishes it to a slight quirk of her lips when their gazes meet.

Adjusting her large pair of sunglasses on her face, Noodle entertains the idea of releasing her hair from the pigtails to keep her ears warm. Some male fans approach her with roses, some more mangled than the others, and she balances them all in the crook of her elbow, expressing her gratitude as she cranes her neck up to look at them in the eye.

The fans around her start to dissipate and she masks her weariness well as she bids them goodbye. A new wave of people comes towards her to replace the ones that just left. Noodle takes a little comfort in knowing that within an hour, she will be in her hotel room where she can take a shower and then slip under the covers of a bed. She cats a glance at the backdoor, half hoping to get a glimpse of her jacket. If anyone from the staff met her gaze now and managed to read her mind, she would be forever grateful to them.

Noodle turns back to the fans and starts the process over again, doing her best to keep her smile from looking like a grimace. They should have stipulated a time limit for this. There are too many people in here; they can't possibly pay attention to every single one of them, and her feet are starting to hurt too much to ignore.

A handful of men push through the group and tower over her. Her skin prickles again, but it's not from the cold. Noodle has lived enough to recognize the smell of alcohol from a distance, and has been around her bandmates for too long to recognize the telltale signs of drunkenness. She eyes the group warily, grips the pen a little tighter.

"Can ya autograph my forehead?"

She blinks at the slurred request, but complies, reaching up to slide the felt tip along sweaty skin. She signs a muscled bicep next, then tanned pectoral muscles, and various other body parts. Some men have her name written in three different spots or more, and they keep asking. Noodle tries to back away and ask them to let other people have their turn to talk to her, but they insist on approaching and she feels cornered. One of them takes the marker from her hand and uncaps it, says something to his friends that she can't understand due to the white noise in her ears, and leans down to write on her.

The pen touches her collarbones and Noodle feels suffocated. Her body feels hot and cold at once, and her palms are getting clammy. In the back of her mind, she knows she can fight them off. A few well-placed jabs and she would have these men on their knees or backs in less than twenty seconds, but they're too close. Too damn close and that old, familiar sensation of being trapped surges through her along with memories she has tried so hard to suppress. Her body isn't responding to her instincts and their laughter is darker and distorted in her head, the colored lenses of her glasses making the experience worse. Too many hands are touching her at once, on the arms, on the back, on the waist, and Noodle can't seem to find the strength to fight back. She feels like a teen again, lost in a place full of vile creatures, fighting for her life.

"Oi!" She whips her head around frantically, searching for the source of the voice that pushed through the buzz in her ears. The felt tip of the marker leaves her skin and there's some space, some fresh, cold air she breathes in shakily. "What're yeh lot doin'?"

At the singer's intervention delivered in the form of a harsh shove that had the intoxicated man stumbling back, the fans that had been standing by idly begin to direct the drunken men away from her. Her limbs are shaking and she fights the urge to grab her hair. The roses she received from loving fans lay by her feet, destroyed. Russel is walking towards them, Murdoc a few steps behind, but 2D is already guiding her back inside. She flinches at his touch, but doesn't fight it, because he's warm and steady, and she's so cold and afraid and oh God.

He takes her to a shadowed corner. His hands leave her body and she misses his presence as she takes a seat on top of a crate, falling upon it like a dead weight. Something soft falls on her shoulders, barely applying as much pressure where his palms had once been, and Noodle buries her nose into the familiar material after 2D is done fixing the jacket. He doesn't say anything, but crouches down before her with her hands in his, thumbs rubbing along her knuckles in a soothing gesture.

Noodle exhales shakily, disrupting the fuzzy blue that tickles the underside of her nose, and peers at him through pink and green lenses. A frown mars his handsome face, but he smiles softly when he meets her eyes, squeezing her hands. She wishes he could hug her tightly, envelope her with his body, shield her away from the world as they have done many times before in private, but they can't do this, not here, not now.

She squeezes his hand back and holds it like a lifeline.