#Ben plays the piano

[boomboxfic]

Music - December Drabble 5/31

Pairing: Mike Logan/Ben Stone

Rated: T

Notes: Mike’s POV, no dialogue

Prompt list (@creativepromptsforwriting):  here

AO3 link to December Drabbles: here

Summary: Mike is attending a Christmas party at Max’s house, and is astonished at who is playing the family piano. 

Mike Logan walked up the familiar walkway to Max and Marie Greevey’s home, a bottle of Jameson still in the gift box. Max had invited his work partner over for a Christmas get together, Donnie Cragen and his wife Marge were expected there, alongside some old colleagues. Mike had expected the get-together to be mostly cops, cops’ wives. 

He intended to bring the girl he had been seeing for a month, but when an old girlfriend left a message on his machine - well, it didn’t take a genius to see that chapter on his prolific dating life had come to a close. Just as good that she didn’t hear the saucy message a guy he had hooked up with (before he started seeing her - Mike had some principles) had left the day before. That would have blown her socks off. 

Mike should’ve brought that guy along, he thought wryly. That would’ve made for some gossip in the squad room. 

With a chuckle, Mike let himself in without knocking. He’d been over the Greevey’s numerous times over the 4 years he’d been partnered with Max. 

He was family. 

===

Upon entering, Mike was immediately greeted by Max, who strongly approved of Mike’s gift. He ushered his partner in, grabbing his coat, saying the party was just getting started. 

The first thing Mike detected was the Frank Sinatra Christmas album playing over the hi-fi. Good choice, Max. The second observation was that someone was actually playing the Greevey family piano. Max often remarked that his kids rarely played the piano, despite taking lessons. Curiosity piqued, Mike needed to see who was playing, because whoever was playing was good.  

At first glance, he wasn’t able to see who was behind the piano. It seemed like everyone had congregated around the piano, singing along with whatever was being played. Turns out, Piano Player was also leading the singing. 

Nevermind Frank Sinatra, this guy could sing too. 

Eventually, the crowd parted a crack, and left Mike in for a big surprise.  None other than Ben Stone, the EADA that he and Max were working with, was tickling the ivories. And he was good. 

Mike realized that it was more than a cop affair, Max had also invited Paul Robinette and his fiancee. Mike was incredibly surprised to see DA Adam Schiff at the Greevey house as well; he didn’t think elected officials mingled with their folk, but showed what little Logan knew. 

The piano ended becoming the centerpiece of the night, carols were being sung, hell, and he was sober. Dinner was served potluck style, which helped to encourage a loose and friendly affair. Marie was a kind and gracious host, making sure everyone kept eating. Max was holding court by the minibar, serving drinks, making sure his old partner Don Cragen kept nursing his club soda. 

In the middle of it all was Ben Stone drawing everyone together on the piano. It was a slightly bewildering experience for Mike, and he ended up stepping away for a little. Max had opened the bottle and offered Mike a glass. Paul Robinette was with Max as well, and all three of them marveled at the scene. Paul mentioned something about Ben saying he used to play piano in jazz clubs during university. Adam had mentioned trying to get Ben to play for some get-togethers, but he’d always refused. It was clear to Mike that music was a way for Ben to unwind, to bond with those he cared about. 

Mike considered how little he actually knew of Ben, the honor-bound, justice seeking prosecutor. He always thought Ben to be rather uptight, so seeing him cut loose caused Mike to reconsider his assessment of the man. For the past few months, Max and Mike had been working alongside Ben and Paul and it was going surprisingly well. He and Max had been hesitant about having the DA looking over their shoulder,  but for the most part, it was less of a nuisance than they’d expected. 

===

Later that night Mike approached Ben with a glass of Jameson, and was greeted by a sweet smile from the prosecutor, bright blue eyes and an easy grin. 

For the next few days, it was all Mike could think about. 

The voice too - that voice, if Mike could record those smooth tones, he would. Ben could give his Sinatra records a run for their money if he wanted. 

A few days later, Max told Ben that his piano was finally getting some attention. Mike found himself blurting out that Ben should record his own music, and when Ben chuckled, Mike was proud that he didn’t blush. 

[operationandre]

as we know, cal was involved in the band program at his school (i love that for him as a band kid myself)

do you think andre ever showed up to any performances of cals?

(i like to think andre teases cal for being in band but shows up to his concerts to support and watch him while he plays :3 )

i’m a (former) band kid too!!

i think andre came to all of them unless they interfered with track practice. that rarely happened, though, because the school would schedule concerts that don’t conflict with anything. cal used to tell him he didn’t have to come to concerts and would avoid telling andre when they were because he was embarrassed. he gave up on that quickly because andre would find out either way.

andre totally teases him for it. he teases cal after every rehearsal they have, but cal knows he doesn’t mean it. andre is honestly jealous he can’t play anything while cal can play both guitar and sitar.

normally andre takes cal out to eat after a concert, but once they start dating, andre brings him flowers. of course, he doesn’t bring them in. he keeps them in his backseat and hands them to cal as soon as they get in the car. even though he gets cal flowers every time, cal still gets excited and thanks him endlessly.

andre thinks cal is brilliant. the music is cool too.

[msnihilist]

How the fuck do Ben and Gwen keep running into self-centered bitches with the worst prioritizing skills known to man 😭

[sunburnacoustic]

In the world of rock, Queen stands out as a good example of the clash between guitar and piano in songwriting. I think that’s where you stumble across those more unusual arrangements and chord structures.

In my heart I want to do more hard rock music, but at the same time, I’m much more attracted to the piano. I think that automatically causes something unusual to happen.

Also Smashing Pumpkins, even though they’re not piano-based. I always found their arrangements interesting, like on the album, Siamese Dream. In terms of guitar, I also like Rage Against the Machine and Jimi Hendrix.

But in terms of piano, I love Ben Folds, but to me, that’s a very different style of music. I love the low, heavy piano bit in “Jackson Cannery.” It made me realise if you want to get heavy, you have to get down there and hit some large chord.

Matt Bellamy on his influences and making a big sound | "Innocence And Absolution", Keyboard Magazine, June 2005

[gaiaxygang]

living in a miserable miserable world where i can rephrase my enamafu thoughts and suddenly its just benchopper or kanghansailom watch this

"niigo gave ena a reason to not give up on art despite what her dad and yukihira sensei tell her" -> "sailom gave kanghan a reason to work hard despite his dad not having any faith in him"

"despite both having issues that stem from their parents, ena and mafuyu are unable to understand each other because of their different personalities and differences in exactly how their parents treated them. this causes them to fight but eventually ena starts to empathise more with mafuyu" -> THIS IS JUST CHOPPER AND BEN I DONT WANT TO WRITE IT OUT BECAUSE IT MAKES ME UPSET :(

[storyteller-ish]

begging the Never Let Me Go team to stop showing neung's hands while he's playing the piano if they aren't gonna have the music play remotely in sync sjbfdj

[airenyah]

so i just watched ep 2 of never let me go and is anyone else tempted to post the music parts in lingling40hrs for twoset to see gkgkkg

[doyoulikethissong-poll]

Ryan Gosling - I'm Just Ken 2023

"I'm Just Ken" is a song performed by Canadian actor Ryan Gosling for the 2023 film Barbie. It was written and produced by Mark Ronson and Andrew Wyatt and appears on the soundtrack album Barbie the Album. After Gosling recorded his vocals, Ronson sent the track to Guns N' Roses guitarist Slash, who found it "cool" and agreed to play guitar on the song. Guitarist Wolfgang Van Halen and Foo Fighters drummer Josh Freese also played on the track.

It won Best Song at the 29th Critics' Choice Awards and was nominated for Best Song Written for Visual Media at the 66th Annual Grammy Awards and Best Original Song at the 96th Academy Awards.

Gosling performed the song live at the 96th Academy Awards on March 10, 2024. The performance paid homage to the "Diamonds are a Girl's Best Friend" sequence from the 1953 film adaptation of the stage musical Gentlemen Prefer Blondes starring Marilyn Monroe. Gosling was joined by Ronson on bass, Wyatt on piano, and Wolfgang Van Halen and Slash on guitar, as well as his Barbie co-stars Simu Liu, Ncuti Gatwa, Kingsley Ben-Adir, and Scott Evans. The performance was choreographed by Mandy Moore, who also choreographed Gosling in La La Land.

70,7% felt the kenergy! Previous Ryan Gosling polls: #15 "Put Me in the Car"

[plussizefantasia]

Don't Cry Over Spilled Lemonade

Anthony Bridgerton x f!reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: None that I can think of, this is kinda angsty tho

A/N: Surprise post IG I wrote this in my notes app because I couldn't sleep so if there are spelling or grammar issues I'm sorry. let me know if you want a part two because I wouldn't mind continuing this.

Anthony adored how close you were to his siblings. You had become a close family friend ever since you defended Daphne against some creep at her first-ever ball out in society, it was your second season and you had taken it upon yourself to keep an eye on the diamond, looking out for her quietly in the background.

You weren’t going to intervene at all, just offer her some advice woman to woman if the need arose but when you saw Baron Taylor grab the redhead by the wrist you couldn’t hold back.

Anthony himself was only seconds away from coming to his sister's aid when you ‘accidently’ tripped into the man spilling your glass of lemonade down the front of his vest. 

“Perhaps my Lord if we kept our hands to ourselves certain… interventions might’ve not had to happen. Don’t you think?” When Anthony had seen your raised eyebrow and defensive posture all aimed at the scumbag who dared lay a hand on his baby sister he couldn’t help but fall a little bit in love right then and there. Not that he’d ever admit it to himself or anyone else for that matter.

A day later Daphne had invited you to tea at their family house in order to thank you for the rescue and potentially make a new friend and ally within the marriage mart.

Ever since that day, you’d been a regular in his home, but you were never there for him as much as he’d have liked you to be. No, you were always there for one of his siblings. You were there to talk with Daphne, first about her counting of the duke and then slowly transitioning into how she felt about being a married woman and then a mother. He could also find you sketching in silence next to Benedict, the two of you after attending to draw the same scene and then critiquing each other's work when you were done. You would trade books and ideas with Eloise, listen to Fran play the piano while working on your embroidery, and the scenes which would warm his heart the most, you’d come around to chase after Greg and Hyancith playing with them in the gardens and keeping a watchful eye to make sure they stayed safe. 

Anthony adored how close you were to his siblings, and he loathed how much of a distance there seemed to be between the two of you. 

You were cold to the Viscount, you had been since the evening you came to Daphne’s rescue, he had attempted to give you his thanks and you had simply excused yourself, “My apologies my Lord but I seem to be down a glass of lemonade presently and I find myself to be quite parched, excuse me.” Your tone was cold and Anthony spent the rest of that night and the next two years trying to figure out what he possibly couldn’t done to make you so icy towards him.

“I do not understand it Ben, she is so kind and lovely to the rest of you but is like a stone wall when it comes to me, what could I be missing?”

“Perhaps she just doesn’t like you brother have you ever thought of that?” Benedict was too preoccupied with this still life to deal with his older brothers pining at the moment. 

“That is not possible, I’ve done nothing but be the perfect gentleman to her.” 

“Anthony I have no idea why dear Y/N does not like you but what exactly will you whining in my studio do about that?” 

“I resent that. I am not whining I am simply asking my dearest brother for his advice on a matter I care very much about. I thought that was what brothers were for.”

“You want my advice, Anthony? Think. Think long and hard about what you want and how you’ll get it because Y/N has no patience for wishy-washy men.”

“That is horrible advice, Ben.”

“When then perhaps you can find better advice from your other brothers. Which will it be Anthony, the one who has been blindly in love with his best friend for years, or the ten-year-old?” 

“I hate it when you’re right.”

“I know. Now leave, that storm cloud above your head is casting shadows on my fruit.” Ben pointed his paintbrush at the bowl of fruit balanced atop a stool. Anthony huffed and knowing that it would bother his brother, he grabbed the apple off the top of the pile and took a bite of it as he strode out of the room

Ben had told him to think, but Anthony didn’t know what to think about. He knew that he craved your attention. He knew that he enjoyed seeing you around his house, interacting with the people whom he loves. He enjoyed hearing your witty comebacks and the way that even if you were not doing anything in particular you still fill the space you’re in.

He wanted her in his life, and if he was being completely honest with himself he wanted more than that. 

It’s during his musing that he runs into her in the hallway, you have a book clutched within your hand, and your head is held high. You don’t stop your stride even though he knows that you saw him. He bites his lip and tampers down a smirk. Add another thing to that list of things he likes about you, you have fire, he just wished that it wasn’t always aimed at him.

“Lady, L/N which one of my dear siblings are you spending your day with today?” He attempts to match his pace with yours catching up to you so that the two of you walk shoulder and shoulder.

“Actually, Lord Bridgerton, I was having tea with your mother this afternoon she invited me over so we could discuss what to do about Frannie’s debut next season.”

This was not something that normal family friends do, you know that and he knows that. His sibling’s entrances into society are a matter which the viscountess must handle, something his mother has had to continue to do because of his lack of a wife. 

“That was very kind of you to help her with.”

“Well, she doesn’t have anyone else to help her.” Your words cut him down, not for the first time. 

“Lady L/N may I be frank?”

“It is your home, you may do as you please.” You turn to face him, your face a mask of indifference. 

“What have I done to cross you, for the longest time I have known you you have been cold to me and I do not understand why?” 

“I had figured that you did not remember, either that or you had purposely forgone trying to speak with me about it.”

“About what?” 

“Our first meeting My Lord.” 

“I remember our first meeting very clearly, it is one of my fondest memories seeing you stand up for Daphne and ruin Lord Taylor’s vest.” He tilts his head to the side and smiles at the memory.

“That was not the first time we met My Lord, the first time we met you snubbed me in front of the entire ton and sparked rumors that did not leave me until two seasons later.” She was harsh in her words and the tightness in her shoulder’s belayed her desire to flee.

Anthony was speechless, surely he had not? He would’ve remembered her, would’ve remembered turning down one of the most beautiful women he had ever met, intentionally or otherwise. 

“I- I beg your deepest forgiveness Y/N I do not remember and if I had I would’ve tried to make it up to you tenfold by now.”

Your eyes began to gloss over and you looked at the wall beside his head, “It was my first season out, Lady Danbury’s ball, and I had seen you standing there surrounded by other gentleman. I had thought you a very fine figure and despite the rumor mill telling me you were nothing but a rake I had tried to begin a conversation. All you did was turn to me and laugh. I wasn’t asked to dance for the entire rest of that season and it was only until my Mother forced the son of one of her garden party friends to dance with me was that streak broken. You were the first and only man I had ever attempted to pursue and you laughed in my face. Were it not for my deep need to help those I see in need I would never have talked to you or any member of the Bridgerton family for the rest of my life.”

“You must know that I regret that, I regret everything I have ever done to hurt you and I will spend the rest of my days working for your forgiveness.” If Anthony was a weaker man he would’ve fallen to his knees and begged for your forgiveness until his last breath, right there in the hallways of his family’s home.

“I appreciate your words Anthony, but that’s all they are… words. I am unmarried, one year from becoming a spinster in the eyes of the entire ton, and you, you are the only one I can blame.” You don’t wait for his reply, just stalking off and wiping the tears from your eyes.

Anthony resolved himself in that moment. He would do whatever it took to make it up to you, to bring a smile to your face, and to cast away the hurt he had caused.

Part 2

[zepskies]

Lost on You - Part 11

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Supe!Reader

Summary: 1983 is a big year for you. You’re finally chosen to join the ranks of Payback, led by the most (in)famous supe in the world: Soldier Boy. He’ll never admit that he’s trying his damndest to figure you out. You’ll never admit that he’s actually growing on you. But the problem with this game is deciding who’s the predator, and who is prey.

AN: In this episode, we're in for a team up, Greek mythology, and possibly the biggest reveal yet…

Word Count: 3.2K

Tags/Warnings: Angst, mentions of abuse/torture, PTSD, violence, and another cliffhanger (sorry).

🎵 YouTube Playlist || Spotify Playlist

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Part 11: Heroes and Monsters

The only thing the TNT Twins ever bought with their money was a lavish mansion in Vermont. It was high on a hill, flanked by forest, and therefore perfectly secluded when Ben and Donna broke through the oak wood doors of their house.

“Hey, kids,” said Ben. He strolled into the living room with a smooth, purposeful gait.

The twins jumped with a start on the couch. A loud and crass action movie was playing on the screen.

“Ben,” Tessa gasped.

“Donna?!” Tommy said, pointing from Donna to Ben. “What…what’re you guys…how did you get…”

“Ooh, is that Pulp Fiction? I wanted to see that one,” Donna remarked. Her brows furrowed. “But wait, it’s still in theaters. How’d you get a VHS?”

“Oh, um, Tarantino gave me a copy as a favor, so we wouldn’t have to sit in the theater with all the mouth breathers,” Tessa said, with a wrinkle of her nose.

Tommy’s face slid into a smirk. He raised a conspiratorial hand to his mouth and pointed at his sister.

“She sucked his dick.”

That tidbit of information was accompanied by a lewd hand motion, and gagging sounds. Tessa angrily punched her brother in the shoulder.

Ben raised a brow. He made slow steps forward with an edge of menace. The twins caught on and stood up straighter, but somehow looked even more like cowards as they immediately started groveling.

“We’re so, so sorry, Ben,” Tessa tried.

“It wasn’t our idea,” Tommy added. The twins backed up near the glass doors, Tommy nearly tripping on the Persian rug.

“Of course it wasn’t,” said Ben. “You idiots barely have two brain cells to rub together.”

“Please don’t kill us,” Tessa pleaded. “Or at least, not me. I didn’t really do anything—”

“You bitch!” Tommy said incredulously.

“Shut the fuck up!” Ben snapped. “Here’s what’s gonna happen.”

He was stopped short by a rigorous shootout on the screen as the movie played. The sound of it was like a machine gun, bullets spraying over and over. It made his breath hitch. His eyes began to glaze over as a memory overtook his vision. Of being strapped to that metal slab, and Eisenstein and his team trying to find out what could actually hurt him, on the inside.

Ben’s chest grew impossibly hot. Distantly he heard voices calling his name.

Before he even realized what he was doing, the smell of burning filled the air, and that terrible, nuclear power escaped from his chest.

When he came to, he blinked the gaudy living room back into frame. Except now, it was burnt to a crisp. There was a large gaping hole where the French doors and most of the wall used to be, leading to a sunny day.

The TNT Twins were gone.

Shaking the fog and blackness from his mind, he turned and only saw Donna. She’d been cowering behind a piano. Slowly she came out of her hiding place with wide, horrified eyes.

“What the fuck did they do to you?” she whispered.

Instead of answering her, Ben strode out of the ruins and grabbed her arm, hefted her to her feet, and took her back to the car. She slid into the driver’s seat and started the car with shaking hands. He settled in the passenger seat and got out the cell phone he'd stashed in the dashboard compartment.

“Yeah?”

“Arthur, it’s me,” Ben said.

“How’d it go with the TNT Twins?”

“They can’t help.”

“What? Why’s that?”

“Because they’re fucking charcoal, that’s why,” Ben snapped. There was a pause on the other line.

“Okaaay,” Arthur said. “Well, I’m still working on some leads on Sirena. In the meantime, I found Gunpowder. He had a little unfortunate incident at a gun show in Texas, so he’s on some mandated R&R.”

Ben blew out a frustrated breath, but he nodded. “Where?”

“Kempton, Pennsylvania.”

Ben and Donna arrived at the Hawk Mt. Shooting Range. There were several steps up to the main building, then even more forest behind as it surrounded the base of a mountain.

“There’s literally a Hawk Mountain Sanctuary not even an hour from here. It’s like going to Sea World to hunt Shamu,” Donna groused.

“Would you shut the fuck up already?” he said. “I don’t want to hear any more of your tree-hugging bullshit.”

“That’s another thing. You’re always so fucking belittling,” she said with a glare sent his way. “Does Sirena like that about you? Or is she just deaf and blind?”

Ben grabbed her arm and yanked her to a stop. He raised a warning finger.

“Keep her name out of your fucking mouth,” he said darkly. “One more smartass word and I’ll sure as shit make you regret it.”

Donna’s mouth snapped shut. She was still angry, but she had the presence of mind to avert her eyes. When he was satisfied, Ben released her. They kept walking, but no matter how he tried to shut her words out, they kept filtering back into his mind.

You’re a bully. A fucking monster. And sooner or later, she won’t be able to stomach you anymore.

He managed to push that thought to the back of his mind as they entered the building. Donna either knocked out or killed the handful of staff members, while Ben continued on to the back of the shooting range.

Well then. Someone ate their fucking Wheaties.  

Gunpowder was a bit bigger since Ben last saw him. He hardly recognized his former sidekick, now a grown-ass man in his late 20s. At least he wasn’t so scrawny anymore.

And he heard the moment Ben stepped into the outdoor range. After he fired off one more birdshot, Gunpowder whipped around with a large shotgun in hand. His face fell into shock when he saw Ben.

A dead pigeon landed on the ground between them.

“Charlie,” Ben greeted, with a tilt of his head. He stalked forward. The man opposite was frozen in shock, but it wouldn’t have mattered if he’d pulled the trigger on his gun anyway.

“S-Soldier Boy—”

Ben ripped the weapon out of his hand. He closed a hand around the younger man’s throat and walked him back until he hit the fake mountain wall that framed the shooting range.

“Ben, he didn’t even know!” Donna said from behind.

Charlie shook his head in agreement. “I didn’t! I swear—”

“Oh, I know. But I bet you didn’t ask any fucking questions, did you?” Ben said.

He remembered that day with perfect clarity. He remembered how the rest of them turned on him.

Except for you.

“But you’re gonna make it up to me,” Ben said, with a grim smile.

Charlie was shocked, as if he’d expected a quick death. “H-How?”

“You’re going to help me find someone.”

“Who?”

“Sirena.” Ben’s lips twitched humorlessly at the ashen look on Charlie’s face. “You remember her, right? She’s the other teammate you guys sold out and giftwrapped for the fucking Commies.”

Ben slammed him harder against the wall, and his chest began to glow. Charlie’s face fell further into fear and horror.

“Ben!” Donna warned. She didn’t dare touch him, but Ben could feel her close by. He glanced at her over his shoulder.

“The TNT Twins were probably useless, but we need him,” she reminded him. “We need every body we can throw at this.”

Ben hated to admit it (so he wouldn’t), but she had a point. It took him a minute to wrangle in his ire, taking deep breaths to try and calm the power inside him. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t.

This time, it actually worked.

His hand fell back to his side, letting Charlie breathe freely.

“Let’s go.” Ben turned on his heel and headed out.

“Where, uh…where’re we going?” Charlie asked, rubbing his sore neck.

“Looks like we’re getting the team back together,” Ben said grimly.

He tilted his head.

“Well. What’s left of it.”

Two weeks seemed to be an eternity in this cell. Somehow it was even more dull than when you were in Siberia. At the very least, the torture broke up the day.

Vogelbaum had taken a few vials of your blood to analyze, but otherwise, you were left alone.

Your only companion was John, who you discovered was just a ten-year-old kid. He was occupying one of the untold number of cells in this lab. You couldn’t pinpoint exactly where he was, but he felt close by.

You two had been having daily conversations. He told you that he’d grown up on this compound, in the very room they held him in. He didn’t remember his parents, if he had any. He only remembered Dr. Vogelbaum, some guy named Marty, and a few others in the facility.

All of them had run experiments of their own on him. It had broken your heart to hear it from a child.

They’ve burned me a lot, he admitted once, with a sniffle. It never leaves a mark, but…it hurts.

I know, bud. I’ve been burned before, you said, disheartened for him. They wanted to find out how strong you are, huh?

Yeah, I guess. What about you?

Not very, is the answer. I’m more durable than the average human, and I heal a little faster, but…not that strong. My powers don’t really help me as much physically.

What’re your powers?

Well…I’m a siren.

You sensed his confusion. He didn’t know what that was, though he maybe didn’t want to admit it.

Have you ever seen adventure movies? You know, the ones about pirates and buried treasure? you asked.

Um, I’ve seen movies, but Vogelbaum called them documentaries.

What were they about?

Pioneers in the Wild West. The old South. How we conquered the Indians, and why America’s the best country in the world. Stuff like that.

You grimaced. So that wasthe kind of education he was getting in this place.

Okay, a lot to unpack there later, you said. But anyway, you read books, right?

Yeah. They give me a lot of books.

That, you could work with.

Okay, have you ever read The Odyssey? Greek mythology.

Y-Yeah. I remember Odysseus. He’s a hero.

Right, exactly. Well, one of the creatures he comes across on his journey are the sirens. In the story, they live on an island. They’re beautiful women, with beautiful voices. They lure sailors in with their songs and their magic, and the men fall under their spell, every time. They end up wrecking their ships and falling to their deaths.

So…the sirens are monsters.

Yeah, they are, you agreed. Your shoulders deflated with your deep sigh.

I can…compel people. If I touch them, I can make them do whatever I want. Especially men. I know when they’re lying. I know what’s in their hearts when they look at me. And I’ve used that to my advantage. To use them.

That fell between you two for a moment. You could sense John thinking, processing.

Do you like your powers? John asked.

You smiled humorlessly.

No, you answered. You’d never admitted that to anyone before. They’re meant to manipulate people, to hurt people.

I don’t want to hurt people, John said, after a beat. But…I um. I did a couple times. You know, on accident.

I’ve known people who hurt others on purpose, because they can. Because it’s fun. You don’t sound like one of those people.  

I don’t want to be. They…want me to be a hero one day.

His voice sounded small again, and almost scared. Like he was afraid of what he could do, and possibly, what Vogelbaum and Stan Edgar and everyone else wantedhim to be.

Well, that’s good. You should never hurt someone just because you can. Or even, just because someone hurt you, you advised, even knowing you were a hypocrite.

Then, an idea formed in your mind. How many times had they burned him without leaving a single mark?

Are you strong, John? you asked him.

Yeah, he replied.

For the first time since you woke up in this nightmare of a place, your smile was genuine.

How strong?

Ben claimed the master bedroom for himself. Charlie and Donna took root on the couch, catching up and reminiscing on how their careers had shaken out after Payback was dismantled. Donna mostly complained about being a permanent fixture at Voughtland.

“At least they got you set up with something stable,” Charlie said. He passed a blunt back to Donna after a long puff. “I never know where the hell I’m gonna be, week after week. Always putting me up in some piece of shit hotel.”

“At least you don’t have to take pictures with snot-nosed kids all day,” she replied, though she eyed him with a smile. Charlie caught the look, with a smile of his own.

“You look good,” he said. “I like the haircut.”

“Oh, stop.” She absently toyed with a strand of her shoulder-length hair. She’d been dying it a deeper red lately. “You really grew into that helmet though.”

He chuckled bashfully. Said helmet was resting on the coffee table, next to the big bag of weed Ben had bought on the way to Virginia. Charlie leaned closer to her and pointed a finger toward wherever their esteemed leader had fucked off to.

“He’s smoking like a chimney, even more than he used to,” Charlie said.

“He’s self-medicating,” Donna nodded. “The Russians did a number on him.”

Part of her maybe twinged with guilt, but even now, she felt justified in her decisions. It wasn’t like she could go back and change anything. Still, if she had known that it would all end up here…

“Christ,” Charlie shook his head.

They stopped their conversation when Ben’s heavy boots thudded back into the room. It seemed that he’d finished his nap, and now ventured out in search of booze. He grabbed the whiskey bottle on the dining table and a glass from the kitchen to give himself a generous pour.

“Uh, I’m thinking we could get some food,” Charlie broached. He got up from the couch. “I don’t mind grabbing something for us.”

“Sit your ass down,” Ben said sharply. He nodded at the landline phone. It sat on an accent table next to the couch. “Order something that delivers, because no one’s going any-fucking-where.”

Charlie pressed his luck one more time. “I’ll be right back, I swear—”

Ben sent him a look of warning. It was enough to make the younger man deflate in surrender.

“Pizza it is,” he said. When Ben turned to head back to his room, Charlie couldn’t help muttering, “For the third time in a row.”

Ben heard him, of course, but he just rolled his eyes. He returned to the bedroom and cracked up the radio on the nightstand. He couldn’t stand hearing any more of Donna and Charlie bickering about what to put on the pizza or what to watch on TV. In a way, it reminded him of old times.

Fuck old times, he thought. He didn’t even much enjoy them the first go around.

He set his glass down on the nightstand and laid in bed over the covers, folding his hands over his chest. He closed his eyes, but rest wouldn’t come to him. He thought of you, and where those bastards at Vought might be keeping you. He could only imagine what they were doing to you, and by now, he had a good imagination.

His jaw clenched with anger, and he drew a hand over his face in frustration.

He felt like he’d already failed.

He’d promised you that you weren’t going back to a cell, that he wouldn’t allow it…and that he’d protect you.

Believe it or not, Ben knew what he was; or more accurately, what he wasn’t. Despite how he’d propped himself up otherwise, deep down, he knew he wasn’t a hero.

But if he could make just one honest save in his long, long life, he’d be damned if it wasn’t you.

No matter how you tried to convince him, John was reluctant to try and escape his cell. You sensed that he didn’t want to leave the facility, even after everything they’d done to him.

At the end of the day, you realized, this was the only life he knew.

Look, I know you’re scared, but we can help each other, you tried to reason with him. I have a…well, I have a boyfriend. His name is Ben. I know he’s looking for me, but I’m not sure he’ll find me here. I need to get back to him before Vought tries anything else.

John didn’t answer you. You sighed. Maybe a softer approach…

What scares you most about leaving? you asked.

I don’t know! Look, just…just leave me alone!

John, wait—

I said leave. Me. ALONE!

The force of his shouted thoughts made you wince. The connection snapped back on you like a rubber band as you lost focus, giving you a stinging headache that radiated behind your eyes. You gasped and rubbed at your temples.

You felt bad for pushing him, but you really needed his help, damn it.

Just when you were about to try and reach out to John again to apologize, and hopefully soothe him, the door of your cell opened.

Vogelbaum was back with a couple of guards armed with tasers and guns. This time, the doctor had a few more empty vials.

“Good afternoon,” he said.

You pursed your lips, but you made no moves to evade him when he came over to sit beside you on your cot. He swabbed at the inside of your arm where he intended to pierce a vein with the needle he held, followed by vials one, two, three, and four of your blood.

“What are you taking my blood for, exactly?” you demanded to know. This was the second time already. “What happens after I fulfill your objective as bait, and you try to set your little trap for Ben?”

Vogelbaum glanced up at you. “We’re not going to hurt you, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Somehow, that still didn’t make you feel any better.

“And why is that?”

“I’m taking your blood to run additional genetic tests,” he said, for the moment ignoring your question.

“Why? What genetic tests?” you pressed.

“Well, this is something we haven’t seen before. It’s going to require a closer look, and some close monitoring of your progress.”

Despite his stoic expression, you sensed a spark of interest in him, of clinical fascination. It reminded you of Dr. Eisenstein. Immediately you were set on edge. Prickles of unease crept down your spine and made you feel cold.

“What do you mean? The Russians’ experiments didn’t do much of anything,” you lied.

“I’m not talking about that,” said Vogelbaum. He finished taking your blood, removed the needle, and cleaned you up.

“Then what?” you snapped. You were losing patience and getting even more worried.

Vogelbaum applied a small bandage where he’d pricked you with the needle, then stepped away.

“Congratulations,” he said in his usual monotone, as he pocketed the vials. “You’re pregnant.”

AN: 🫣 hides until next week lol

Next Time:

We come to Payback's Avengers: Civil War moment!

“Look, we don’t have to do this,” Charlie tried. “Just let him get Sirena out of there. After what you guys did, she doesn’t deserve that.”

Ben glanced at his former sidekick. He actually seemed sincere.

Too bad Noir wasn’t about to go for it. He had Vought’s dick so far up his ass, he wouldn’t likely take a shit without Stan Edgar’s say so. He crouched into a fighting stance and unsheathed his katana. The rest of the guards poured in to flank around him and Mindstorm.

Ben rolled a crack out of his neck.

“Fine. If it’s a war you want, it’s a war you’ll fucking get,” he said.

Noir started charging at him first, but Donna shot off a fireball in his direction.

Chaos ignited from there.

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 12

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[bluesidez]

Gym Rat Miguel Part 12

content warning: Miguel is very dramatic in this one, mentions of food

word count: 4k (SHOUTOUT TO MY BETA!! @slushycoookie 🩵)

Prev | Next ✩°｡ ⋆⸜ 🎧✮ Masterlist

DISCLAIMER: This story is not canonical. 😒 Most, if not all, of the characters used are OOC. I literally can not stress this enough.

GymRat!Miguel who tries not to dwell on the fact that it’s been just about a month since he’s seen you. It’s the middle of the week and if he thinks about it too much, he’s going to go crazy.

It feels odd because you’re on the same campus as him. You’re not across the country. You’re not out of the country. You’re literally a short walk or drive away and neither of you have time to see each other.

He’s considering printing your pictures out and walking around with them like a forlorn lover looking for his lost soulmate. It feels like he’s back in his bedroom staring at your pictures for hours like a man at war aching for home.

He’s exhausted all of his options.

The couple-lunches have all been rain-checked, the weight of your workload trapping you in the Art building.

Your sleep schedule was terrible, if the late night TikToks and reels were anything to go by. He knew you had morning classes too so he could only assume you’ve had a few hours of sleep during the weeknights.

The weekends were for rest and he didn’t want to disrupt yours.

Your dorm tracked visitors which means he’d only have a few hours with you before curfew if you were even there.

GymRat!Miguel who misses you so bad he’s temporarily replaced his gym playlist for the one you gifted him.

His face is set hard, feet heavy as he sprints over a curved treadmill. After a few minutes he stops, takes a small break, and runs again.

Even the melodic and somber voice playing over a groovy piano couldn’t soothe his thoughts.

His heart rammed in his chest as sweat trickled down his face, his tank drenched and clinging to his chest.

Just a few more sprints to go.

GymRat!Miguel who slides the ear of his headphone off because Xina is standing in front of him, blocking his path.

“Anymore sprints and you’re going to pass out,” she hands him a towel.

“Maybe I want to,” Miguel grumbles, nabbing the towel and rubbing his face like someone spit on it.

Xina grabbed her ponytail and pinned it up, loose hair sticking to her neck. “Don’t say that. It’s not funny. I can only manage pulling your body to the entrance to the gym.”

Miguel snorted.

GymRat!Miguel who fills up the time that he used to spend with you to get to know his friends and meet others.

This meant having game nights with Peter and Ben. They were so close, not really, to convincing him to join their DND parties.

If he wasn’t with them, he was occasionally calling The Geek Squad and catching up. A Friendsgiving date was now tentatively on his calendar because of it.

Of course, his robotics team was still going steady. Aaron was interesting, if nothing else, and Margo was like the little sister he never had.

Then, there was checking up on Gabriel like a Tamagotchi. Was he eating ok? Did he need some money? Is he trapped in the subway? Did a rat eat him?

Gabriel had sent him a screenshot of his contact with his name being changed to “Mom #2.”

Miguel only scoffed and told Gabriel his name was going to get changed to “pain in my ass.”

The newest development, however, was Xina. Her transferring here felt like middle school when they used to be attached at the hip.

They had their programming class together two days out of the week, biweekly study sessions, and the occasional late night excursion.

It also explains why she’s eyeing him from the stairmaster while he heaves over the handles of the treadmill.

GymRat!Miguel who thanked Xina as she handed him his jug of water. He sat up from the bench to let her take a seat.

“So,” she started.

“I’m not helping you hack your professor’s dashboard. While you could do it, it’s not a good idea and quantum physics isn’t that-“

“It’s not that, you dick,” Xina pinched his side. “It’s you. What’s up with you?”

“Nothing is up with me.”

“Miguel.”

“Xina.”

“Now, you’re being a brat. Something is definitely wrong.”

Miguel picked at the peeling Game Over sticker on his bottle. He needed to tape it down or he’d lose it.

“I miss her.”

“Miss who? Your mom?”

“What? No. I miss my girlfriend.”

It was quiet between them, the sound of chatter and the clanking of equipment filled the white noise.

Xina tilted her head, “That bad?”

Miguel nods.

“When’s the last time you saw her?”

He takes a dramatic breath, “Our anniversary date. Last month. I feel…”

“Like you can’t function? Like it’s hard to think?”

“Is that pathetic?” Miguel winces. “I have a feeling you’re going to say that it is.”

“No, I don’t think that.”

Miguel pouts as he looks up. Xina shrugs and slides her hands on down her leggings.

“Remember the times I went boy crazy? All the times I came crying to you after they screwed me over, even when you already warned me they weren’t good guys? I think you deserve to be crazy about your girlfriend.”

“Thanks,” Miguel blinked. “You were way too nice to those first guys.”

“I learned though, didn’t I? I know a good guy when I see him, now,” Xina pushed at Miguel’s shoulders with hers.

“And now those self-defense lessons won’t go to waste, right?”

Xina snorted as she recalled the time she managed to flip Winston on his back at Miguel’s instruction.

GymRat!Miguel who watches Xina’s eyes grow in shock when he tells her how long he’s been dating you.

“Dang,” Xina stops in her tracks. “A year?”

Miguel puffs up his chest and stands a little straighter, a confident stride in his step, “One year and counting.”

“That’s,” Xina turns and waits for a car to go by. She readjusts her gym bag. “That’s awesome, Hare-Hare.”

GymRat!Miguel who feels the mood shift by the time he drops Xina back off. He’s not sure what’s brought it up, but now he’s nervous about upsetting her more.

He taps on the wheel, after he pulls into a park.

“You sure you don’t want me to get you anything? You don’t need to go anywhere?”

Xina unbuckles her seatbelt, “Nope. All good. See you tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” he watches her close the door before he can even finish. “See you.”

GymRat!Miguel who obliges when Xina texts him the next day to switch up their study session location.

Miguel wanted to keep the busy calm of the 1st floor of the library but Xina insisted on giving him a change of scenery.

“It’s good for you! You stare at the screen all day when you’re coding,” Xina slams Miguel’s car door to which he sneer at her for. “You need to look up and smell the coffee sometimes.”

“You just want a reason to not do your work.”

Xina turns around and walks backwards in front of Miguel, “And that’s completely fine. We should live a little.”

She trips over the edge of the sidewalk with a yelp and Miguel is quick to catch her, the panic on his face evident.

“See,” she grins as she pulls herself up by Miguel’s shoulders. “Living!”

GymRat!Miguel who lets Xina order for him while he finds a table.

The cafe was bright, white wood accenting the walls with vines and plants adorning the area. Salmon pink brought a pop of color to the sandy-looking tables and fairy lights hung in the corners of the room.

Miguel’s eyes grew as he saw the variety of desserts on display, his mouth itching to take a bite.

“No, no, no. Go away. I’ll pick something you’ll like,” Xina blocks Miguel’s lingering eyes.

Miguel clicks his teeth, “If it’s not good, I’m going to be really upset.”

“I doubt it.”

GymRat!Miguel who walks deeper into the cafe. He’s dodging ceiling plants left and right, but he’s sure that the best seats are in the furthest of the building.

He shuffles around a corner, eyes adjusting to the sun coming through window.

He blinks a few times and takes in the spacious area.

That’s when he sees you.

He walks fast, the strides of his steps wide.

The closer he gets, the stronger the smell of peaches builds. The sun was shining down like it granted Miguel one the greatest gifts of his life. Its rays danced across the spot that you're in.

He gets to your chair and pulled it out with ease, the sound disrupting the hushed corner.

A pen falls to the floor, voices are cut short, and arms are flailing but Miguel’s nose is buried deep into your neck.

Your arms tighten around his neck and your voice skips across his ears.

“I-” a kiss across your face, “missed you so much.” Miguel looks at you like you hold the stars in the sky within your palm.

“You scared the shit out of me, Miguel,” you say with no really malice in your voice. Your thumbs run across his cheeks, watching as he beams at you. You kiss him once or twice, heart fluttering as your feet dangle in the air.

“I hope there aren’t many people picking you up in the middle of establishments,” Miguel mumbled across your lips.

“Guys, there’s people staring at us,” a voice creeps in from the side of Miguel.

Miguel’s eyes follow it to see a deer-looking kid with hoodie pulled up over his ears.

“Who is this?”

GymRat!Miguel who is introduced to Miles, your freshman classmate that you’ve taken in.

He’s sitting across the table nodding along to you as you rave about Miles’ work. The entire time, his right hand didn’t leave your left one.

“So,” Miguel chimes in when there’s a pause. “Have you both been coming here a while?”

“Nah, I just dragged her out here recently. She never leaves the art building when a deadline is near. It’s kind of depressing-“

“You know, Miles.” You're holding back an eye roll. “There are times when you could just not talk.”

“No, actually tell me more,” Miguel insisted, attentive.

GymRat!Miguel who hurries to help a struggling Xina when she rounds the corner with a tray full of goodies.

A cinnamon roll, a lemon tart, a tall purple drink, and some warm tea is placed on the table while you and Miles clear the area.

You sit up straighter to watch Miguel pick up the tea cup and blow over it. “Tea? No milk with a pinch of coffee?”

“Amor…”

Xina looks over to his cup, “Did you want something else?”

“No, this is good, I haven’t had this in a while,” he takes a sip and hums while explaining to you. “I’ve been on this sweet drink kick since she let me try her frappe last year.”

“That’s rich because you always hated it when I got those.”

“To be fair, you downed like four of those in one day. I’m surprised your body didn’t go into shock.”

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “Four in one day must have meant you were going through it.”

Xina smiles and nods her head, “Exactly. And I told him-”

“We’re not doing this,” Miguel grumbled and stabbed his fork into his roll. “Four was way too much and she was bouncing off the walls all day just to crash and throw up on my shoes.”

“I said I was sorry about that!”

GymRat!Miguel who cuts pieces of his dessert to feed to you. You look at him incredulously as he insists on giving you bite after bite.

“Is it good?” Miguel asks chewing his own piece. You nod and he grins, happy in the bubble he’s created.

When Xina reaches for his plate for a piece he slides it away with ease, a move he knows too well.

“Why can’t I have some? I bought it.”

“You didn’t even ask!”

“Neither did she!”

Miles leans over to you, “I feel like I’m watching a fight between me and my baby sister.”

Miguel is pushing Xina’s hands away from his plate while she laughs up a storm. You think that it does mirror something like Gabriel and Miguel’s relationship, but something about Miguel isn’t the same.

GymRat!Miguel who continues his Tom and Jerry act with Xina even when the food is gone.

They were bickering over some formula that you couldn’t begin to figure out by yourself. To Miguel, it’s easy. To Xina, the setup makes no sense.

“How did you survive Ivy League without me?” Miguel asks as he reaches over and erases an error on her page.

“Like I do anything else, with peace.”

“So what you’re saying is,” Miguel points his pencil at Xina, “you hate me and I am not needed for problems 4 through 10.”

“No!” she panics, pushing his pen back to the paper. “I need you to start this one. I don’t understand it.”

“We just did one like this, though. It’s just the imaginary number all over again.”

Xina groaned and slumped in her chair while Miguel just turned back to his on work.

GymRat!Miguel who peers up from his computer to watch you work. You eyebrows pinch as your wrist moves across the large sketchpad in front of you. Your hand is moving fast and you’re so focused. Miguel hasn’t seen you like this before. In your element.

He leans his head on his hand, cheek squished and staring at you like he’s never seen you, like you were something to be admired.

You were pretty today, a sweater with some cartoon on it and some jeans that flared out at the bottom. Your bunny necklace was dangling around your neck and your glasses were falling down your nose.

You push them back and a smudge of charcoal from moving Miles’ artwork gets on your cheek.

“Stare at her any harder and she might grow something freaky,” Miles whispers.

Miguel falters and grabs a napkin, leaning to wipe your cheek, “She has something on her face.”

GymRat!Miguel who tries to be even more discreet as he watches you fill up the page. It’s mesmerizing seeing what you come up with.

He’ll type a little bit then look at your sketches, he’ll click a few links then look at your face. Sometimes, you would catch him looking and smile at resulting in his heart picking up.

Occasionally, Miles would ask your opinion on something and you would give him pointers, the two of you discussing something about focal points and rule of threes.

Miguel just wanted to put his stuff up and listen to you all day.

“What are you working on?” Xina asks, her voice breaking the silence. She’s staring directly at your drawings, fingers tapping against her notebook.

You perk up and flip your pad around, “It’s some ideas for one of our bigger projects! The theme is reinventing a classic, so I’m thinking something like a spin on Lady Godiva with a haunted theme and darker palette. Or The Fallen Angel with a bird’s eye perspective of him on the ground.”

You took a breath and flipped the page, “And then there’s The Kiss which I wanted to actually do a glaze to really give it that ‘mosaic’ look.”

Miguel leaned in with Xina to take a closer look.

The sketch was exceptional to say the least. Miguel wasn’t too sure how the original painting looked, but your drawing detailed a woman wrapped in these angular, moving shapes. Her face was angled up and a far-off look adorned her features. To her right sat a man whose lips were on her neck and his attention solely on her.

It was soft, yet strong. How you managed to put so much intimacy onto a single page was beyond him.

The feeling of it was familiar and when he looked up at you, he knew.

Miguel opens his mouth, “It’s..”

“Boring.”

“Beautiful.”

He turns to Xina with a frown on his face as she flips back to the front page.

“I mean, I think one of the other two is better, you know? More of a twist on the originals. The last one feels safe.”

The table is quiet as Xina’s comment marinates. She’s flipping further into your book and Miguel promptly snatches it from her and closes it a bit harder than he needs to. Miles shifts in his seat, chewing on the straw of his drink.

“Can you explain why it feels safe to you?” your fingers pick at a nail.

She looks up, “Well, don’t you want to stand out? Out of the others, I don’t think this one is that unique.”

“The point isn’t to stand out,” Miles chimes in. “The assignment is about remixing a classic and all three of these do that pretty well.”

Your smile is small, “Thanks, Miles.”

“So which one do you think is better?” Xina asks.

“The last one,” both Miles and Miguel say.

“It carries the emotion of the original while also bringing more focus to couple rather than the abstracted cloth. You can see the love between them in a way that the original doesn’t have and it’s not even painted yet,” Miles talks with ease. “But! That’s just my opinion.”

“I think it’s powerful,” Miguel hums. “You should go with that one.”

You nod, thumbing over the corner of the pages.

GymRat!Miguel who watches Miles nearly fly out of the cafe.

Something about catching the bus to go see a friend perform.

“Poor thing,” you mumble. “He didn’t even buy the tickets yet.”

GymRat!Miguel who can almost see the stress coming off of you in waves the later it gets in the evening.

“Are you alright?” Miguel places his hand over yours.

“Yeah, I think I need a nap.”

“Need me to drive you back?”

“No, it’s fine. You need to drive Xina back.” You start to pack up. “I brought my car anyways.”

Miguel follows your movements, hands putting his laptop up as well.

He hurries to pull your chair out and you thank him with a quiet voice. He follows you from the table to the door to your car. The scene is almost comical the way he’s in your peripheral.

“Will I see you again soon?” Miguel leans on the hood of your car, body practically falling onto you in the driver’s seat. “We gotta set up a date.”

“I’ll see what I can do, baby,” you rub his face and kiss the kicked-puppy look off of his face. “I’ll text you once I get back.”

“Please.”

GymRat!Miguel who throws his backpack in the backseat and slumps over the wheel once he’s certain your car was down the road.

“What now?” Xina patted Miguel’s back. “You miss her again?”

Miguel just dug his head onto the horn, the effect alerting anyone within 50ft radius.

“Ok, ok,” Xina yanked him up by his shoulders only for him to drop back down again. She sighs and grabs the back of his head with a slight yank to his hair.

Miguel swats her hand away with a grit to his teeth and a pinch to his brows.

Xina only holds her hands up with a grin lining her lips, “Calm down.”

“You’re really annoying me today.”

Xina drops her hands and her smile falters. Miguel straightens up with an apology on the roof of his mouth before Xina picks back up with joy.

“What I think you need is an awesome rager for your birthday.”

“No.”

“Why not? It could be fun!”

“I’m all partied out until next year.”

“Not even with your friends? People from your department? A couple of classmates? The robo nerds?”

“That’s robo rockstars to you.”

Xina laughed and buckled her seatbelt.

“I think it could be great, seriously. We’re doing it.”

Miguel only groaned and turned on the ignition.

GymRat!Miguel who wanted to use his Sunday for relaxation, a cheat day, maybe a game or two with Gabriel, Peter, and Winston.

Instead, he’s lying on his bed listening to Xina rant about one of her roommates using the sink as a trash can.

“Like we have a ridiculously expensive trash can that’s less than a foot away from the sink. It’s a simple spin and drop.”

“Ok, I get this is really gross, but don’t you have other friends you could bother?”

Xina pauses, and points her finger at him, “Hey, I’m here to help you out. If I wasn’t here, who knows how down in the dumps you’d be.”

“This isn’t helping me.”

GymRat!Miguel who answers his phone while Xina has managed to pull Peter into a game of Overcooked on his Switch.

“Hey, Ma.”

“Miguel! How do I connect your father’s computer to the TV? He found a movie that we could watch but the screen is so small.”

“He found a movie but can’t connect cords?”

“Just answer the question, mijo.”

Miguel sits up, prepared to spend at least forty minutes trying to explain what an HDMI cord is.

“Yeah.”

Xina gasps, pauses the game leaving a displeased Peter, and hops into the corner of Miguel’s phone.

“Hi, Mrs. O’Hara!”

“Hola, mi dulce niña! Hace mucho que no te veo. ¿Que tal te ha ido?“ (Hello, my sweet girl! I haven’t seen you in a long time. How have you been?)

“Más o menos, pero me alegro de verte.” (So-so, but I’m happy to see you.)

“No, Xina! ¿Qué tienes?” (What’s wrong?)

Miguel just plopped the device in Xina’s hand, “I like how you both started a conversation on my phone.”

“We’ve got important things to discuss,” Xina waved him off while she and his mother continued to fawn over each other.

Miguel just slid off the bed and joined Peter.

GymRat!Miguel who doesn’t get his phone back until curfew hours are around the corner.

Xina and his mom discussed everything from reality TV to recipes to her time up north. Xina left happier than when she came in which Miguel didn’t mind. He just wished he could have had the room to himself.

GymRat!Miguel who doesn’t see your message until he’s about to go to sleep.

“Baby”

“Let’s do something together on your bday”

Miguel unpeeled his eyes and typed swiftly.

“YES”

“YEESSSS”

“Best birthday ever already”

“Someone’s excited”

“I haven’t even said what we’re doing yet”

“What are we doing”

“Tell me please”

“Pleasepleasepleaseplease”

“Mmm”

“No”

“It’s a secret 🙂‍↔️”

“I can wait”

“That you are”

“Sometimes”

“😗”

“But mi luz I think Xina is trying to plan something too”

“Oh”

“Should we raincheck then?”

“NOOOOOO!”

“I can do both”

“I’ll literally split myself in two”

“You don’t have to choose”

“My gift is small”

“I want you to have fun on your special day”

“Can you come to the party?”

“I don’t want to miss it but I’ll have to see”

“If anything it’ll be much later”

“As long as I get to see you I’ll be happy”

“Good night bebé”

“Night!”

"Love you"

“Love you more"

divider by: @plutism 🩵

a/n: I have no notes other than school is starting back up so my posting schedule will be even more irregular. 🤠 Please bear with me.

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[jason-please-see-a-psychiatrist]

so ive got this headcanon that reginald didnt just make viktor learn the violin, all of the siblings had an instrument they had to learn (he was just more harsh on viktor and focused more on music with him than with the others) so here are what i think they play

luther: piano. boring just like him

diego: clarinet. i dont know either

allison: voice. emmy raver-lampman mainly works in musical theatre so i feel like it works

klaus: french horn. dont ask me why it just has the same energy as him

five: trumpet. my god does he have annoying trumpeter energy

ben: cello. i can 100% see him and viktor having little private jam sessions as kids

[allyjoe755]

Family Ties Pt. 1

Benedict Bridgerton x reader (no use of y/n)

request: from @caspianobsessed, "Can u please write about benedict and sharma sister reader , she comes to visit kate and meets ben for the first time. They meet one year later during reader's season and fall in love"

WC: 1541

a/n: This was so much fun to write. I have no idea what 19th century ghost possessed me to write the dialogue like I did but I'm not mad at it. There will be a part two! I hope you enjoy. And if you would like to be tagged in any future parts, please let me know.

warnings: none

o-o-o

Love was a challenging concept, because hearts— they were fickle things.

You had realized as much after your sister, Edwina’s, first social season… where she had been courted by Viscount Bridgerton only for your eldest sister, Kate, to ultimately become his wife.

But oh, were they in love. You could see it in their eyes on their wedding day— how they stared deeply at one another, as if no one else mattered in the world, as if their entire world, indeed, was standing right in front of them.

It was beautiful. Magnificent, truly.

You could only wish that something as magical as that might befall you one day.

You were a year younger than Edwina, and as such, a year out from your societal debut. You had not been present during the social gatherings or your sisters’ time spent at Aubrey Hall– due, in part, to you traveling with some extended family or other during that time. Besides names and vague descriptions granted to you through writing and on your return, you truly did not know any of the family your sister was marrying into.

And even then, you barely met any of them on the wedding day. A quick conversation introducing you to the now Dowager Viscountess Bridgerton, and a nodding of heads acknowledging a few of the girls– Francesca and Eloise?– but that was it.

Viscount Bridgerton you knew, of course, but any of the others? Perhaps on looks alone you could pick out the eight of them from a crowd, but you did not know who was who.

Maybe that was why your heart thrummed so violently in your chest as you exited the carriage and stood in front of Aubrey Hall. The unknown. Yes, you were visiting your sister, but you feared less a chance encounter with a pack of ravenous wolves than the family Bridgerton, for at least you knew what to expect with the former.

You were sure they were kind– or at least amiable, as you doubted your sister would tolerate much less join a family that was not at least one of those things. That one piece of hope allowed you to tamper your nerves enough that when you arrived at Aubrey Hall, you were able to wear a placid smile as the footman escorted you to the drawing room.

He had not even finished announcing your name when your sister stood from where she was and practically dashed over to you, enveloping you in a hug. You both laughed, and tears came to your eyes.

“My dear, sweet sister,” Kate said, her smile bright as your embrace ended. “How I have missed you.”

“I have missed you as well!” You exclaimed. “Viscountess Bridgerton.”

“Oh, none of that here.” She waved her hand dismissively. “Come. I should introduce you to everyone.”

She turned around and you now had a clearer image of the drawing room– or rather, who was in it. The Dowager Viscountess– you recognized her– stood and nodded her head to you. You nodded and curtsied in return.

One girl sat in a chair with a book in hand. She was one of the children you had met at the wedding… Eloise, you believed? Yet the others you were not sure you entirely recognized.

“At the piano is Francesca,” Kate began. “Please, do not stop playing on our account; my sister and I are both lovers of music,” she told the young woman. “Over there is Eloise, and of course you know the Dowager Viscountess… Anthony is away on some business at the moment, but should be joining us for our meal. And, of course, the duchess is not present, as she is in Hastings.

“And here,” she said, bringing you to a table toward the end of the room, “are Gregory, Benedict, Colin, and–”

“Hyacinth!” The young girl announced, standing to do a quick curtsy to you. “It is a delight to meet you; we’ve heard so many great things!”

You couldn’t help the smile that began to blossom on your face. What had you been worried for? Only a few minutes, and you could already tell they were a wonderful family. “I’m so very glad to hear it,” you returned. You looked down at the table. “What game are you all playing?”

“It is a very simple game,” Hyacinth grandly explained, “in which one seeks the highest scoring hand by trading their cards until the round is over."

You smiled. "Trade and Barter?"

"Colin says it is called Commerce in France," Hyacinth responded, "which I think is a far more clever name." She looked up at you, and you thought that if this was how all of the family was, you would like the Bridgertons very much indeed. 

"Would you care to join us?" Colin offered.

"If there is room for one more," you said.

"Of course there is room," he replied, and there was a momentary shuffling of chairs, a command for Gregory to grab another seat, and suddenly you were sat between the youngest at the table and the oldest as your sister went back to sit with her mother-in-law.

Assuming, of course, that Benedict was in fact the second oldest and Hyacinth the youngest, if their names and your common sense had anything to tell you.

Another thing your common sense told you: the Bridgertons were a beautiful family. You read Lady Whistledown, of course, and had heard of the Bridgerton good looks, but seeing them in person…

You were being ridiculous, you knew. This was your sister’s family– Kate’s family. You should not have been noticing anything besides their friendliness.

You definitely should not have been noticing how you thought Benedict the most handsome, with his chestnut hair and gleaming eyes and soft smile, or how butterflies flapped in your stomach when your seat was placed next to his, or how nice he smelled when you sat down.

It was Gregory's turn to deal. Once your cards were dealt, you picked them up, glanced at them, and held them close to your chest.

Benedict leaned toward you ever so slightly. “Be sure to keep a neutral look about you. The younger ones do have eyes like hawks about these things.”

You let out a laugh. “You must remember my sisters,” you replied. “Edwina and Kate and I have had a fair share of card games ourselves.”

And so it went like that, around the table taking turns, watching the other players in hopes that their faces would reveal their hands, with laughter echoing in the drawing room.

“How is it that we haven't met you before today?” Hyacinth asked as she scooped over the pool of coins to her personal stash.

“I was traveling with family,” you explained. “Although I was at the wedding; it was just a busy day and so we did not get to meet.

“Where did you travel to?” and “So you are not out in society yet?” were the next questions asked, by, to your surprise, Colin and Benedict respectively. They then both apologized in tandem, and you pressed your lips together to stifle a giggle.

“No, I am not out in society yet–” you answered Benedict first– “but my debut will be this next season. And we were just in the countryside, mostly, but I did think it a rather splendid trip. There were many libraries and parks where we stayed, which I thoroughly enjoyed.”

“You enjoy reading?” Benedict asked yet another question, and you would be lying if you didn’t say that you were giddy by it.

“I would say that I rather enjoy all the arts,” you said. “Reading, writing, music… I can play the pianoforte, but not nearly as well as your sister. Her mastery is a true gift.”

“And what about visual arts?” Colin asked. “Drawings and paintings and sculptures… are you a fan of those as well?”

You nodded. “Of course. I was told there were great art exhibits in London. My mother and I are planning on visiting some of them when we are there for my season.”

“Perhaps Benedict could join you!” Hyacinth exclaimed. “He is a lover of art. In fact, he is quite the artist himself. He was a student at the Royal Academy of Art.”

Benedict let out a rather awkward laugh, and you felt your face grow flush. Hyacinth did not know what she was proposing– but a debutante and a bachelor on an outing, during the social season?

It was preposterous, and suggestive, and almost romantic.

Yet you loved the idea of it.

“A student?” You said, hoping to ignore Hyacinth’s other comment and continue with the conversation. “You must have very nice work.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” he quickly responded, and then cleared his throat. His eyes met yours for a fleeting moment before you both looked away.

“It might be time for our meal soon,” Colin announced, standing up from his seat and saving you and his brother from any more embarrassment. “Hyacinth?”

“Yes, brother?”

“We shall leave it up to Benedict and our guest to determine what they would like to do during the social season.” He began towards the door, opened it, and turned to address the rest of the group. “Shall we?”

[blood-stained-lollipop]

the pastas if they had a normal life

BEN- Gamer boy who lives in his parent's basement. You saw it coming. Ben would literally spend his days living off energy drinks and chips. Brags about his game collection even though he doesn’t have a job. He doesn’t care that he doesn’t have a job, but he should.

Jeff- He never moved on from the emo renaissance. He has posters of MCR and other emo bands up on his walls. They’re chipped and wilted, but he’ll be dead before they get taken down. Definitely uses a pair of broken wired earphones because he thinks he’s too cool for AirPods.

Eyeless Jack-Jack would be the most pretentious male manipulator sorry. Donna Tartt would have a field day with him. He exclusively only listens to music from the 80s and mansplains everything. He is intelligent though, and he dresses immaculately. 

Toby- That friend who has never been calm in their life. One second he’s at home, then the next he’s in Portugal on a solo holiday. Should not be allowed a bank account. Always the life of the party. People wonder how he’s still alive. 

Helen- Weird art kid. Spends all of his time in his room, either playing piano or painting. He thinks he’s destined to be the next Picasso. Has good grades and big dreams, but no friends to tell them to. 

Liu- Probably the most normal. Good grades, decent social life. He’s not popular, but he’s not a loner. Kind of mainstream. Always drinking coffee, probably works like two jobs. Has connections everywhere. 

Jane- She walks down the street and like 90% of heads turn to look at her. Quiet, but not shy. Has a small group of friends, but feels like none of them know her. Probably has a glass of red wine every Saturday night. Has a cat. 

Nina- The town's bravest girl solely because she’s single-handedly bringing back scene-core. Doesn’t care that people give her weird looks on public transport. Makes kandi bracelets and gives them out to strangers. Literally SO sweet and for what. 

Clockwork- No one wants to get on her bad side. She has like two friends but she loves them with all her heart. Doesn’t give a fuck about grades. She probably works out a lot but never drinks water. Lives alone. 

[citrus-lamb]

hey!! do you think you could write some ben (sbg) x reader who is also really into music (maybe plays guitar) headcannons? thanks!!

a/n : i did a short story and head canons! i hope you enjoy as i really love this concept. i love ben's character so much and i hope i did him justice! please enjoy!

song : you and me (TadanoCo & KTKT)

Ben first noticed that you liked music when you were constantly wearing headphones like Ashlyn.

You always hummed along to the songs, though not for long as you quickly noticed and got embarrassed.

One time when you guys were hanging out and everyone else was talking he asked you about the song you were listening to through his notebook.

You got excited and started talking about the meaning and the name of the song, specific lyrics you liked, and analyzing everything it was about.

Ben listened very intently the whole time, and afterwards asked if he could listen.

You said yes and you guys fell asleep listening to your playlist.

In the morning you guys made a shared playlist that you both listen to.

That was the start of your friendship.

Ben was very excited. He felt like he found someone who actually understood music like he did, instead of “I like the beat”, as Aiden says.

You guys were your own duo in the group, and they mostly left you guys alone unless one of them recognized the song you guys were talking about.

You ended up talking so much that you learned sign-language to have better communication with him.

After the event at the arcade the group went back to your house for a while since it was the closest.

They were hanging out in your room, doing their own thing or hanging out.

Aiden was snooping through your closest and found a lot of your old instruments.

A bass, a guitar, a drum set, and piano sheet music.

“Wow, I never knew you played any instruments!” Aiden said excitedly, interrupting your conversation with Ben.

“What do you mean… oh.” You looked over to him, standing in the door way with your old blood red bass strapped on, “I don’t really play anymore, it’s not super special or anything.”

“It’s cool!” Aiden beamed, getting the attention of everyone else. “You should play something for us! To calm our nerves. I think we need it after… earlier events.” He smiled. How could you say no. You looked over to Ben, who looked excited as well. He signed, ‘Only if you want to.’

You took song requests for about an hour before your hands got so tired that you felt like they were going to fall off.

Ashlyn’s dad came to pick them up afterwards, but Ben texted you into the night about how amazing you were.

You continuously got compliments from the group about your playing and you began to do it more often.

You learned everyone’s favorite songs and played for them whenever they were nervous.

Ben really appreciated it.

His angry quickly died down when you played, and you noticed.

It was like a whole other language that only you guys could understand.

[babysukiii]

how long can we be a sad song? (till we are too far gone to bring back to life)

modern day high school au

// your girlfriend lottie has always made it clear soccer is her main priority. when nationals near and she begins ignoring you, your final straw seems to be when she lashes out at you. //

warnings: angst but kinda fluffy at the end, breakups, asshole!lottie, jock!lottie, she’s mean for like a minute lol

you let out a quiet sigh as you sit on the bleachers and watch your girlfriend and laura lee continue to practice on the soccer field. even though practice ended an hour ago. finally, laura lee announces she needs to get home, and she waves at you as she makes her way off the field. you look over at lottie who’s offering you a smile. it’s way too late to go and watch that movie in town you wanted to see, so you know now your only option is hanging out at one of your houses.

you stand up, making your way down the bleachers and over to your girlfriend. “did you still want to hang out?” lottie asks, “i’m a bit tired, maybe we can just catch the movie tomorrow?” lottie offers and you feel your entire mood sour even more than it already was. “i just waited two hours to hang out with you.” you point out, and the raven haired girl frowns. “i never asked you to wait. i told you i have to really focus on nationals.” lottie states sternly, and you nod. “i know that. i know nationals is super important to you… but you’ve blown me off for three weeks now because of it. i just thought… i don’t know, you’d make a little time for me too.” your voice is quiet, and soft. you don’t sound angry but you sound disappointed.

lottie feels a wave of guilt wash over her. “i’m sorry. tomorrow i’ll leave as soon as coach ben ends practice. promise.” she insists, sounding so sincere you actually believe her. your dismal expression is quickly replaced by a happy one. you nod, “okay. can you meet me at my place tomorrow after practice? i have a piano lesson at my house so i can’t watch you practice.” you admit and she nods, flashing you the same smile you fell in love with. “of course, babe. come on, i’ll drive you home.” she offers kindly, and your heart skips a beat as she reaches for your hand, interlocking her fingers with yours.

the next day at school you spent the entire day eager for it to end. you couldn’t wait to see the barbie movie, and you had been going on and on about how excited you were about it. you even missed going with your friends, in order to see it with lottie because she promised. after school, you give lottie a kiss goodbye and made your way to your sisters car.

what you expect after your piano lesson is lottie to text you that she’s outside and waiting for you. but what happens is you get ready for your date, and you end up waiting two hours. two hours and not a single text or call from lottie. you don’t even bother texting her more than once because you feel so emotionally exhausted. she’s been putting you aside all year for soccer, and sure, at first you understood. this could get her a scholarship… but she’s rich! she could afford to get into any school, and play on any college team…

maybe she just doesn’t want to hang out with me.

“honey, why are you all dolled up? you have plans?” your mother asks you, walking out of the kitchen wearing an apron that’s stained with some sort of red sauce. “no. not anymore. i was supposed to hang out with lottie today, but… she canceled for soccer practice again.” you confess hesitantly and your mother nods. “that girls gonna burn herself out with all the practice she does.” she comments jokingly, but you’re not in the mood to laugh. your mother realizes something is wrong right away.

“mom, do you think… do you think lottie likes soccer more than she likes me?” you question, your voice laced with insecurity. your mother laughs as if you’ve said the funniest thing on the planet. “that’s absurd, mija (sweetheart), that girl once walked all the way here just to give you flowers.” your mother reminds and you feel a pang of hurt hit your heart. “she… she just doesn’t do those things anymore. she’s always been so serious about soccer but this year? god, she’s been a nightmare. did i tell you allie broke her leg during a practice scrimmage? that’s how serious they’re taking this…” you trail off and the older woman’s eyes widen a bit at the revelation.

“she’s just a different person these days. it doesn’t feel like she likes me very much anymore.” you admit sadly, and your mother frowns. “have you talked to her about this?” she inquires uncertainly, and you nod. “not all of it, but i have told her i feel like she puts soccer before me and our relationship a lot.” you explain, “she always says it’s just in my head, and that she loves me… but she stood me up again after promising she wouldn’t and i—“ your voice cracks and your mother rushes over to you. “honey, no. this— this isn’t right. you need to talk to her about this. all of it.” the older woman says sternly, and you sniffle as you wipe a tear away. you’ve always been so sensitive and this entire situation was getting to you.

“what if— what if we break up? or what if she confirms that she does think soccer is more important? i… i don’t know if i can handle that.” you whisper the last part and the raven haired woman shakes her head. “well you’re going to have to, because the longer you let this fester, the worse you’re going to feel.” she comments stringently, causing you to look up at her with sad eyes. “y-you’re right. i’ll talk to her tomorrow.” you assure her, and just as your mother is about to respond, your phone starts vibrating.

the screen lights up with texts from lottie, and you look at your mom. “it’s her.” you say, and she shrugs. “don’t respond for a few hours. come help me with dinner, it’ll get your mind off her.” she suggests, and you press your lips together. “isn’t ignoring her just as bad?” you question and she shakes her head, “you’re just giving her a taste of her own medicine. come on; leave the phone there and come help me.” your mother insists, helping you off the couch and gesturing your towards the kitchen.

all your mother let you do was chop up some zucchini, and set the table. still, talking with her about other things than lottie was nice. and talking about lottie definitely gave you some perspective. you were definitely going to talk to your girlfriend about this, and you were going to put your foot down. you weren’t going to make her choose between you and soccer; you’d never even consider doing that. you just wanted a little time, and to maybe be prioritized a little better.

after dinner you end up going upstairs, taking a shower, washing your face, and brushing your teeth. you wander around your bedroom, nirvana blasting on your speaker as you dry your hair. your phone chimes again, signaling you got another text.

(7;56 p.m) lottie: tai made us practice late again, i’m sorry. can we reschedule?

(7;57 p.m) lottie: this saturday is all yours! i promise!

(8;12 p.m) lottie: hello?

(8;15 p.m) lottie: my texts are delivering, so i know your phones on.

(8;20 p.m) lottie: i’m really sorry about the movie

(9;33 p.m) lottie: no phone call tonight?

(9;35 p.m) you: hey, i got caught up with piano practice, and helping my mom with dinner, and then being stood up by my girlfriend

you know your response is petty, and unlike you, but you were still upset. lottie has never just pushed you aside like this, and to do it so consistently all of a sudden made you feel so bad. especially about yourself. it made you wonder if she was losing interest. if maybe she was only using soccer as an excuse to stop hanging out with you.

(9;38 p.m) lottie: well, i’m glad you’re alive. i didn’t stand you up, you know how tai gets when she decides something. i have to take nationals seriously.

you scoff at her response, and quickly get to typing.

(9;40 p.m) you: i understand that. but you’ve promised me four different times about this movie, and at this point i don’t even want to go anymore.

(9;42 p.m) lottie: i know you’re upset and i’m sorry. but if i want to win nationals i have to practice really hard. harder than usual. right now that’s my main concern

you toss your phone onto your bed, not even bothering to respond. it was like talking to a brick wall. tomorrow you’d have to face her and talk about this in person. the thought alone causes a nauseous feeling to settle in the pit of your stomach. there was this wave of dread that washes over you, and for the first time in your relationship with lottie, you feel as though you two aren’t on the same page.

the next day at school was hell for lottie. you barely spoke to her; you didn’t sit with her and the team during lunch. she knew you were upset but she didn’t think you were this upset. you’ve always been so understanding about her passion for soccer, and you’ve never acted this way before. but… then again, lottie has never taken practice this serious. she just doesn’t want to let her team down, and she can see how much the girls want this. she wants it too, but she knows they have more on the line. tai wants a scholarship, and going to nationals will look great on a college application.

you’ll get over it. lottie tells herself. that day she sees you waiting for her by the bleachers; there’s an unrecognizable expression drawn onto your features. she just finished changing into her practice clothes and cleats, and she tries to smile at you, but it doesn’t quite meet her eyes. “hey.” she says as she leans in to kiss you, but you tilt your head to the side in order for her lips to land on your cheek. “hi… we should talk. i’ll make it quick.” you promise and she nods uncertainly, a feeling of unease creeping up on her. “i don’t really like the way i’ve been feeling lately…” you start, and she opens her mouth to talk but you stop her.

“… i’ve always felt like you and i have been on the same page, but lately i just feel like your mind is strictly on soccer. for the entire year you’ve been spending extra time practicing, and you barely talk to me about anything other than it. you blow me off for practice and you’ve missed all of our date nights for the last three months.” you point out, and lottie shakes her head. “y/n, do you understand what’s at stake here? not just my future, but all of my teammates. i’m not just working this hard for me, it’s for my team. i’m sorry if you’re feeling a little ignored and craving attention, but until nationals are over, you’re just gonna have to suck it up and deal with it.” she states, sounding a bit frustrated.

you look shocked with her words; she’s never been that blunt and cruel. here you were telling her how you felt and she was being like this. lottie can see the look on your face, you look as though you’re about to cry. though she’s much too stressed to care, so instead of deciding to apologize like she normally would, she scoffs. “i don’t have time for this. every day is another problem with you. it’s getting annoying.” lottie snaps, and you try to blink away the tears as you clench your jaw. she sounds so much like her father (who she hates), it nearly makes you laugh.

“well, i’m sorry for wanting to spend some time with you. i’m sorry i actually believed you when you promised me you’d make time and put in the slightest bit of effort for me. that was clearly my mistake. don’t worry, matthews, i promise i won’t be a problem for you anymore.” you hiss, tears in your eyes as you sound angry and hurt. lottie watches you leave and she stands there, feeling like a complete asshole. before she can even consider chasing after you, coach ben blows his whistle, signaling for all the girls to get on the field.

so here’s the thing, when you promised lottie you wouldn’t be a ‘problem’ anymore, she wasn’t exactly sure what you meant. but the next day, you came to school with a small box of her things in your hands. you march right up to her, there was nothing but determination on your face. lottie wasn’t stupid; she knew what this meant and it causes her heart rate to pick up anxiously. “the rest of your stuff you can come pick up whenever. it was too big to bring to school.” you say, keeping your voice quiet so no one can hear. lottie looks like a kicked puppy, “wh-what do you mean?“ you almost feel bad about the clear fear in her tone as she realizes she’s losing you.

“it didn’t fit in the box, so you can come and pick it up whenever.” you repeat more clearly, as if you hadn’t been clear as day the first time. “i know that… i just mean— why are you giving me my stuff back?” she asks, completely afraid of the answer. you don’t respond, and the silence tells her everything. “you’re breaking up with me over a fight?” she asks a bit angrily, and you shake your head; your poker face faltering. “i’m breaking up with you because you act like you don’t want to be with me! i’m not asking you to stop prioritizing soccer, i just wanted a little effort, lottie. you couldn’t even give me that.” you point out, pushing the box into her arms.

“like i said, you can pick up your other stuff whenever you’re not too busy.” you practically hiss at her, before you turn around and leave her standing there. lottie feels as though she’s been slapped in the face. the one person she had figured would always be there, was now walking away from her and disappearing into the hoard of bustling students. natalie, who had been watching the entire ordeal from her locker, walks up to lottie. “what was that about? it looked serious…” natalie starts cautiously, trying to make sure her best friend is okay. lottie looks worse than when becky martin started telling the entire school about lottie being schizophrenic. but you were there for her throughout all of that; never caring about her diagnosis or thinking of her any differently. she was always your lottie. but now she wasn’t your anything.

lottie starts to tear up, and natalie’s eyes widen at the sight of the broken-hearted girl. “she dumped me.” lottie admits in a frail tone, a tone natalie has never heard from the raven haired girl. “shit… seriously? what happened?” natalie asks, and lottie proceeds to tell her best friend everything. she tells her all about how she began neglecting you at the begin of the year, and you being you, always let it slide. yet as she became more and more emotionally and physically unavailable, she began leaving you alone.

she tells natalie about how these last few weeks she was a total nightmare. she even forgot to text you some days. natalie looks shocked at this revelation; you two always seemed like such a great couple. you hadn’t even let anyone know there was trouble in paradise. the bell rings, and natalie clasps lottie’s wrists and begins to lead her towards the schools exit. natalie knew the last thing her friend needed was to be surrounded by a bunch of annoying students in class.

as soon as they get to the bottom of the bleachers, natalie flashes her a stern look.

“alright matthews, you screwed up, but i’m gonna help you fix it.” lottie looks shocked at natalie’s declaration, and she shakes her head. “why? why do you wanna help me?” she questions, and natalie shrugs. “you’re my best friend. plus y/n is a good person who actually gives a shit about you. you’re never gonna forgive yourself if you don’t fix it.” natalie’s voice is stern, and lottie nods in agreement.

“what should i do?” the yellowjackets sweeper asks uncertainly, and natalie offers her a mischievous smirk. “i have an idea that could work.” natalie admits, as she begins to give lottie a list of ways she could romance you. lottie listens, clearly very interested.

that weekend is the hardest. lottie has never gone longer than a day without hearing your beautiful voice. you two never really fought throughout your relationship; you learned pretty early into your friendship with lottie that her home life was mean and harsh enough. you never dared add any hurt to her life. when lottie was upset she quickly realized she could talk to you about anything; you were so easy to open up to, and no matter what you were doing you always made time for her.

the entire weekend lottie feels like trash. she realizes that she doesn’t even know how you’re doing. you two barely broke up, yet it feels like she hasn’t truly talked to you for months. god, maybe she was a terrible girlfriend. she put soccer before you, and now she doesn’t even feel like going to practice. though she knows she has to. she has an obligation to her friends and team… but she can’t help but feel like she let you down, and you didn’t know it but you were one of the most important people in her life.

now she fears that if none of natalie’s ideas work, she’ll lose you for sure. she’s tried to text you nearly every day since the breakup on friday, but you refuse to answer any of her texts. she even tried calling you on saturday night, but you didn’t pick up. when monday rolls around lottie comes to school with a huge bouquet of sunflowers and red roses. your two favorites. she hasn’t felt this nervous since she first asked you to be her girlfriend, except right now she knew you didn’t want to talk to her or even see her.

everyone looks at the raven haired girl as soon as she walks into school. surely everyone knows about your breakup by now, because mari is your best friend and she also seems to have the biggest mouth. not to mention she had been glaring at lottie all throughout practice on friday evening. she could tell you told mari everything and by the looks she was receiving she could tell everyone else knew now too.

as soon as she sees you standing by your locker talking to mari and akilah, mari’s eyes zero in on the tall raven haired girl making her way up to you. your best friend taps on you, and nods in lottie’s direction. you turn your head, and instead of your eyes lighting up at the sight of her and the bouquet, your large orbs fill with dread. her step falters a bit but she keeps her head high as she approaches you. “y/n… these are for you. i’m really sorry.” lottie’s voice is small, and you shake your head.

“they’re beautiful, but they aren’t going to fix anything.” you deadpan and lottie frowns. “i know that. but i thought maybe they could be the first step to fixing things?” she suggests and you glance at akilah and mari. you reach for lottie’s free hand and lead her to a secluded spot in the hall. “why are you doing this here? in front of everyone?” you ask her with supplicating eyes, and she knits her brows together. “because you won’t return my calls, and i haven’t stopped thinking about you. y/n, if you’d hear me out, i know i could fix this.” she pleads with you, and those eyes nearly make you cave.

you quickly remind yourself how you both ended up here, causing you to shut your eyes and take a breath. when you open them, lottie has a hopeful expression etched onto her features. “i gave you plenty of chances to fix it when we were together. for the last two months i’ve given you nothing but chances. you told me time and time again that soccer was your priority, and i respect that. so please respect my decision and leave me alone.” you whisper the last part a bit harshly as you turn around and storm away.

lottie stands there, heartbroken and ashamed. she looks at the flowers that seem to be taunting her. she crushes the stems in her hand as she approaches the nearest trash bin, tossing them in. so much for flowers and a heartfelt apology. lottie feels like a fool for even trying.

a week goes by and lottie is practically a walking zombie. she’s barely been eating or sleeping. she was so used to falling asleep on facetime with you, or falling asleep texting you… now she can barely get a wink of sleep. all she can think about is how mean to you she was the day before you two broke up. god, she can’t get that sad, puppy dog expression you flashed her out of her head.

“come on, lottie! where’s your head at!?” tai snaps in the middle of a scrimmage. lottie had been paying less attention to anything that didn’t have to do with you these days. it’s ironic, it took her losing you to realize what she had. her notes for her classes were empty lately, her parents didn’t even notice she was barely saying a word at home, and practice was the worst. lottie was so used to seeing you in the bleachers during most of her practices; you’d be watching her with this big smile on your face, or doing homework. you always looked so pretty. now you weren’t there and lottie never realized how happy seeing you sitting on those bleachers made her. how important she felt that you spent time watching her practice because you didn’t want to be away from her.

lottie doesn’t get her head in the game even after being yelled at by tai. in the locker room, its worse. “what the hell, lottie?? we’re this close to winning nationals and you choose now to start slacking??” tai asks harshly, natalie steps in before lottie can respond. “hey, leave her alone she’s had a shitty week.” natalie states sternly and tai rolls her eyes. “so have all of us! newsflash, the world doesn’t stop because lottie matthews is going through a breakup. we’re a team, meaning you need to get your mind together and focus on the game.” tai’s voice is angry and demanding.

lottie feels a surge of rage wash over her. “not everything is about soccer!” she snaps back loudly, taking the curly haired girl and most of the girls by surprise. “god, you’re all so worked up over this fucking game next week that we’ve all been nightmares! jackie, you and shauna have been at each offers throats for weeks, tai you’ve barely talked to van about anything other than nationals, laura lee has been praying to god for nothing but us winning, mar’s been a bigger cunt than usual, natalie is stress drinking again, and my girlfriend dumped me because i was ignoring her for months! for a sport i used to have fun playing, with a team who used to actually give a shit about each other!” lottie lets it all pour out like a leaky faucet, and everyone stands there dumbfounded by the outburst.

“lottie—“ tai starts but lottie slams her locker shut. “fuck this.” she hisses as she swings her nike duffle bag over her shoulder and storms out of the locker room. she doesn’t even bother changing out of her uniform. lottie’s blood is boiling and her teeth are gritting all the way to her car. she feels as though in a week her entire life has spiraled downhill. she’s been downhill more times than she can count, but she’s never been there without you. this sucks.

she seems to be so upset that she doesn’t even realize she’s driving in the direction of your house. she feels so lost, and it seems she ended up where she feels the safest. with you. lottie aimlessly approaches your door; she’s still in her soccer uniform and her hair is in loose pigtails. the way you always said made her look undeniably cute. she knocks on the door and looks down at her dirty cleats. she thinks about how unhappy you’re probably going to look to see her; she isn’t used to that. she hates it.

her eyes well up with tears and she sniffles, the door swings open before she can think to cover up the fact that she was crying. you had seen her through the peephole, putting on your best angry face before you answered the door. but as soon as you saw the broken girl in front of you, and you heard the sad little sniffle, your face softens immediately. “are you okay?” even though you know it’s a dumb question, you still ask because you don’t want to sound harsh. she doesn’t look like she needs anymore of that.

“i— i didn’t know where else to go.” she admits lowly, roughly wiping her tears away with the back of her hand. you give in quickly, stepping aside for her to come in. “what happened?” you ask her as she steps inside, taking her shoes off politely in a way that makes you smile. even in her sad state, she still remembers your mothers rules. “i got into a fight with tai… you were right, lately we’ve all been terrible. i’ve been terrible. to you especially. i’m really sorry, y/n.” she sounds sincere and sad, you can see her staring hopelessly at you; waiting for you to say something.

you press your lips together before letting out a sigh, turning your head away from her. “it’s okay. i understand. nationals are a lot of pressure, and i just think maybe right now it’s better if we’re just friends. i want a normal relationship, and i want my girlfriend to be as excited about prom as i am. i want to be able to go to the movies and have date nights without worrying about getting in the way of your schedule. i just think we want different things now.” you explain, trying to keep your voice light but she can hear the sadness laced through your tone clear as day.

lottie shakes her head rapidly, standing up and inching towards you. “i want those things too. i love our date nights, and you never get in the way of my schedule. i promise. i am excited about prom— at least i was… when i knew i was going with you.” lottie’s response is quiet and low, making you frown. “you never even asked me to prom, lot. it’s next month!” you point out and lottie flashes you those puppy eyes you could never resist when you were together. why does she have to be so cute?

“please go to prom with me.” she insists and before you can decline, and goes on. “i want to prove to you we still want the same things! if you still don’t want to be with me after prom… okay. i’ll respect your decision. but you have to let me try. please.” lottie sounds desperate, and she’s borderline begging. you let out sharp exhale, “fine. fine. i’ll go to prom with you, matthews. but i swear to god if you mess this up again, we’re done.” you warn her and she nods eagerly, reaching for your hands.

“i promise! i’m not gonna let you down this time!” she swears as she leans in and places a kiss on your cheek. “this times gonna be different.” she assures you, and you allow her to pull you in for a hug. you melt into her embrace, and you hesitantly wrap your arms around her. you can’t hope but help she’s telling you the truth this time. you suppose the only thing you can do is wait and see.