#He left a microphone to take but not reins

[turnleftaticela]

Phil did not “take the reins” when Peter left because Peter did not leave any reins to take

[voraciousvore]

Bucky's (42/44)

Chapter 42: Aftermath

As gruesome as the sight of a man with his torso blown open from the inside was, Ronny felt compelled to snap photographs with his phone. If they were going to take down Big Corp Inc. and Bucky’s, people needed to see with graphic clarity how horrible and dangerous the pills really were, so they would be opposed to their widespread circulation. The display sickened Tanya and Ronny, but they stayed with the survivors until the paramedics arrived. 

Tanya checked on Little Debbie, to gauge her injuries. Apparently, when Leon expanded in size, she had been smashed up against the stomach wall before Mr. Wolfe ripped open. She had a broken arm and leg, and probably at least one broken rib as well. She was in so much agony that she had lost consciousness. With no way to help her, Tanya asked Ronny to return her to the desk so she could finish sending out the emails. 

When the paramedics showed up, they were astonished by the brutal display but quickly got to work tending to the wounds and loading up the unconscious people into stretchers. Tanya was surprised to see they came prepared with human-sized equipment for Little Debbie. She reasoned that human injuries must happen in a disproportionate amount to the quantity of humans inhabiting the large side of the city, simply by virtue of the inherent dangers of sharing space with Giants. The thought saddened her as she snuck a glance up at Ronny. 

The media weren’t far behind. Martin had diligently sent everything straight to the TV stations, radios, and newspapers, and all the nosy reporters wanted an exclusive scoop on the big scandal. Once the outlandish story of what happened upstairs came to light, the mob of reporters rushed to capture the moment, cataloguing every second as the blood-soaked victims were carted away by paramedics to an ambulance waiting downstairs. Ronny and Tanya found themselves swarmed by cameras and noise. Ronny, concerned for Tanya’s safety, tried his best to keep her hidden in his hands, but his reaction was delayed: The little blood-smeared human had been sniffed out, and the sharks were circling, hungry for a meal. 

Initially, Ronny tried his best to take the reins and explain, but he wasn’t the most articulate or interesting, and his patience wore thin quickly, making him gruff and snippy. The Giant reporters wanted to interview the human instead. Tanya realized how critical this moment was to take down Bucky, so she pushed open his fingers so she could be seen. She knew she was taking a huge risk, being a fugitive from the law and a target for Bucky, but she needed to tell her story. She was deeply intimidated when she witnessed the swarm of energetic, humongous strangers around her, with all their attention on her, but she didn’t back down. As titanic microphones were shoved in her face, and camera flashes blinded her, she related the salient portions of her story and answered questions shouted out to her. 

Her head was spinning by the time the mob of Giants finally left her alone. Ronny flopped down on one of the couches with a heavy sigh and ran a hand through his hair. “Are you sure that was wise, Tanya, to allow yourself to be seen like that? I hope you don’t get targeted now.” 

She shrugged and looked down at her hands. “It needed to be done,” she mumbled. She gazed up at Ronny, her eyes overflowing with emotion. “I needed to do this. I couldn’t just cower and hide when I knew there were still humans in danger whom I had the power to help.” 

Ronny smiled down at his teeny girlfriend, tucked securely in the folds of his curving hand. “Wow, Tanya… I truly admire you. I don’t think I’d have the courage to do what you did, if I were in your position. You’re an incredible woman.” Tanya beamed with his praise, and his heart melted. He raised her up to his lips, gave her a sweet kiss, and held her against his chest. 

Eventually, Ronny got up and headed downstairs to rejoin Martin and Candy. They congratulated Tanya on her valiant success, relieved to see she was safe and unharmed. Tanya gave Candy back her phone, which miraculously escaped any damage. With all the excitement, the office was a flurry of activity. Their direct supervisor Leon was gone, and the CEO was dead, so work didn’t seem important anymore. Everybody was gossiping about the email leaks and poring over all the scandalous findings.  

Somebody turned on the TV in the break room to the news channel. Already, the big story was breaking, accompanied by gory, but carefully censored, footage of Leon, Little Debbie, and the dead CEO. Tanya flushed with embarrassment when she saw herself on TV being interviewed. Candy assured her she did a good job in front of the cameras. Ronny turned away, not wanting or caring to see himself on TV. He grasped Martin by the shoulder and pulled him aside. 

“What is it, Ronny?” Martin asked. 

“I’m worried, Martin,” Ronny admitted. “Somebody broke into my apartment yesterday. They didn’t take anything, but I suspect one of Bucky’s minions, if not Bucky himself, was searching for Tanya. And now, Tanya’s with me on the TV. They’re going to see her, and know she was trying to sabotage them, and they know where I live.” 

“Oh dear,” Martin responded. “That’s not good. What are you going to do?” 

“Well... look, I know you probably despise me, so I’m not asking for myself. But... if you could at least let Tanya stay with you and Candy for a while? Just keep her safe, until this whole thing blows over? All I know is, I can’t keep her at my apartment,” Ronny concluded. 

“Of course!” Martin agreed. “But aren’t you worried they’ll come after you too?” His brow furrowed with concern. 

“Y-yeah,” Ronny admitted. “But I’ll figure something out. I can handle it.” He uttered the last statement without much confidence. They could easily find him and kill him, or do horrible things to him. In the past, Ronny may have been consoled by the fact that he wasn’t small like a human and couldn’t get eaten, but now that wasn’t true anymore. With the new pills, Bucky could shrink Ronny and devour him. Both Leon and Ronny had already been eaten, after all. Ronny was scared, but he didn’t want to admit his concerns to Martin. 

Though Ronny failed to vocalize his thoughts, Martin could guess what he was thinking. He placed his big hand on Ronny’s shoulder. “You can stay with us too, Ronny,” he conceded. “You’re special to Tanya. She’d be devastated if anything happened to you.” 

“Really? You’d be okay with that?” Ronny asked, mildly incredulous. 

“Don’t get the wrong idea! I don’t care about YOU at all, Ronny! Just Tanya!” Martin jested. He smirked and punched Ronny playfully in the side. Ronny couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Besides, I’d never hear the end of it from Candy if I rejected you. You know she’s got me on a tight leash!” Martin continued, chuckling. Ronny laughed harder. He thought it comical that a little thing like Candy had so much control over a Giant man as physically imposing as Martin. Then again, he had a similar relationship with Tanya. He would do literally anything for her. Ronny realized, in that moment, he had a friend in Martin. Purely by circumstance, they had bonded over their mutual desire to protect, as well as respect and love, their tiny girlfriends. Ronny felt warmth inside him. With his snarky, abrasive attitude, he had intentionally pushed most people out of his life. He hadn’t had a friend in a long time.  

“Thanks,” he said gruffly. “I appreciate it.” He felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Martin slapped him on the back in acknowledgement and the two Giants rejoined their girlfriends in the break room. Tanya and Candy were talking excitedly to each other. Tanya was relating her adventures to Candy, who listened and commented with rapt attention. 

“Ugh, I hated Mr. Wolfe so much,” Candy expressed. “He was a repulsive fiend. I remember when he allowed Mr. Hardon to eat me. And he almost let Bucky take me! I’m glad he’s gone.” 

“Now, if we could just get rid of Bucky…” Tanya grumbled, crossing her arms. 

“Hopefully, your efforts will get him arrested,” Candy chimed in. Tanya nodded in agreement. 

“Excuse me, Candy, my little cupcake?” Martin interjected, kneeling down in front of the table so he was level with the humans. Tanya took a hesitant step backwards. Candy came over to Martin and placed her hand on his cheek, brushing his coarse stubble with her fingers. 

“Yes, sweetie?” 

“Um, Ronny was asking if he and Tanya could stay with us for a while, since Bucky knows where they live,” Martin explained. 

“Why, of course! It’d be our pleasure!” Candy replied, beaming at Tanya. She stood up on her tiptoes and pecked Martin on his lip. He smiled and kissed her gently back. Candy was ecstatic. She enjoyed having a human friend to talk to, especially one with similar experiences to her own. She wanted to get to know Tanya better. 

Ronny stood back with his hands folded together. Candy looked up at him and the corner of her mouth twitched into an uncertain, nervous smile. She was still a little frightened of him, due to their rough history, but she wanted to be friendlier and make amends, especially after she learned that he had been the one to save her from Mr. Hardon’s clutches when the evil Giant had nearly kidnapped her. Ronny swallowed and scratched the side of his face, turning his eyes away. He still felt awkward around Candy, even if she was willing to put the past behind her. 

After work, Ronny figured it would be safe to stop by his apartment to collect some of their personal effects. Martin and Candy accompanied the couple, just in case. Ronny was relieved to find his door locked, as it should be. He hurried inside, packed his own clothes and toiletries, along with Tanya’s, and hastily left. He double-checked the lock to ensure it was secure. He felt justified in his paranoia. He stayed on high alert all the way to Martin’s apartment. 

Ronny and Tanya were surprised by Martin’s substantial collection of mini model vehicles upon entering his domicile. “Wow, Martin, I never knew you were such a fucking nerd,” Ronny scoffed with a smirk. Martin laughed heartily and dropped Candy on the couch. 

“My apartment’s much cooler than your lame, basic bitch apartment. Wouldn’t you agree, Tanya?” Martin bantered. Tanya giggled. “Make yourselves comfortable. I’ll start making dinner.” 

Ronny sat on the opposite side of the couch from Candy, so as not to loom over her and make her uncomfortable, and set down Tanya beside her. The two tiny woman happily gabbed on with each other while Ronny stayed gloomy and silent. He didn’t know how they could be in such great moods when he was so anxious. He rested his cheek on his fist, tapped his foot, and looked around the apartment, studying his surroundings with his dark eyes. 

Martin finished cooking dinner and set the table. Candy and Tanya sat at the tiny human table on top of the Giant table, while Martin and Ronny sat opposite each other. Martin tried to engage Ronny in discussions, but Ronny wasn’t used to holding a conversation and mostly just answered with short responses and grunts as he munched on his food. The two humans had no problem with chatting, and eventually Martin gave up on Ronny and talked with the ladies instead. Ronny had not realized until that point just how much his social skills had deteriorated. He hadn’t been invited to anyone else’s house in ages. He felt uncomfortable and awkward. He was grateful, at least, that Tanya was having a good time. 

After dinner, Martin served everyone some ice cream for dessert and then gave his guests a tour of his apartment. He didn’t have a spare bedroom for them to sleep in, so they would have to sleep on the couch in the living room. Ronny and Tanya were fine with this arrangement. Ronny still felt mildly guilty for imposing, especially on his former enemies, but he didn’t say so out loud. Martin turned on the TV, so they could see if there were any updates with the situation with Big Corp and Bucky. As the news sank in, people were calling for arrests of the corrupt politicians and Bucky. Tanya was hopeful. 

Ronny’s phone rang. He glanced down at the screen. The number looked familiar, but he didn’t recognize it. “Hello?” he answered. 

“Um... is Tanya there?” a female voice timidly asked. 

Ronny raised his eyebrows in surprise. He remembered the number and voice now: It was Tanya’s mom. “She’s right here.” He lowered the phone down to his lap, where Tanya was sitting. “It’s for you, Tanya.” She looked up at him, confused, but answered the call. 

“Tanya!” her mom shouted frantically. “I just saw the news! Why didn’t you tell me you were on the large side of the city? Are you okay?” Her dad said something indistinct in the background of the call. 

Tanya flushed. “Sorry, Mom. I didn’t want you to worry.” 

“Well, dang it, girl, now I’m very worried! I see you smothered in blood on the TV, being held by a Giant, and you expect me not to be concerned? Who is that Giant anyway? Are you with him now? Is that who answered the phone?” 

“Yeah. About that. Um... he saved my life. We’re actually dating now,” Tanya admitted, wiping her forehead. 

Tanya’s mom was a talkative lady, but even she was stunned into silence by this news. Tanya’s dad seized the phone from her. “Let me talk to him,” he growled. 

Ronny blinked, but picked up the phone and placed it against his ear. “Hello?” Tanya couldn’t hear the specifics of the conversation, but her dad’s voice sounded stern. Ronny’s face twitched. “Yes sir. Of course.” He blushed slightly. “Never!” He gritted his teeth with tension. “Yes sir. No sir.” A long pause as her dad gave him an earful. “Yes, I promise. Okay. Here’s Tanya.” He returned the phone to his lap with an irritated scowl. 

Tanya talked to her parents for a while, ensuring them she was fine. Her parents were chomping at the bit to come see her, but Tanya didn’t want to put them in harm’s way. She couldn’t travel to the small side of the city yet, as the police were still looking to arrest her, and she didn’t want to take that risk. She sighed and rubbed her face once she finally hung up the phone. 

“I need a hot shower,” she proclaimed. Candy and Martin were more than happy to accommodate the needs of their cherished guest. Tanya felt better after she cleaned up, but she was exhausted. Once everyone was ready for bed, Candy and Martin retreated into their bedroom and Ronny and Tanya snuggled up together on the couch. Ronny stroked Tanya with his fingers. The familiar feeling of her small weight on his chest, living and breathing, filled him with calm. For now, Tanya was safe. He covered her gently with his hand like a blanket. He needed to do everything in his power to keep her protected. 

Chapter 43

Chapter 1

[sour--disposition]

Drunken Words, Sober Thoughts

-

harry x fem!reader

-

Request: OOoO what if you do one where reader similar to Harry and is friends with talia and the other girls, but has never met the sidemen yet and gets invited to do a drinking video with them and they don’t know that reader can hold her liquor and Harry is at awe watching her smash the drinks and pins after her

please check my masterlist to see if requests are open

“Hey, are you busy on Thursday? Simon wants to know if you’ll be in a moresidemen video”, Talia asked as soon as you picked up the phone.

“Well, hello to you, too”, you laughed into the phone. “Yeah, I’ll just make sure I get my editing done by Wednesday night. Let Si know I’ll be there with you. What are we doing?”, you asked her.

“I think he wants us to do a say it or shot it. They wanted to do a lie detector but they couldn't find anyone to administer it or lend out the equipment”, she said.

“Yeah, sounds good”, you replied. “Just make sure someone tells me when and where, yeah?”.

It was Sunday evening, which meant you had 3 full days to film and edit a video that you were happy to put out. Being a a fast-growing youtuber, you tried to stick to a consistent schedule when you could. Along with streaming most nights, staying on top of your content kept you pretty busy.

“So, if I film tomorrow, I’ve got tomorrow night, Tuesday and Wednesday to edit. Need Wednesday night free for a shower to be ready for Thursday. There’s the stream with Talia tomorrow night and hopefully Gee on Tuesday. If I clear Wednesday night out... Okay. Seems good!”, you mumbled to yourself as you tried to make a game plan for the next two weeks.

Talia: youtube studio space, be there for 11am xx

Me: so im getting peppered mid-day or spilling all my secrets to like 5 million subs? lavely xx

Talia: shut up its bc you love me xx

Knowing you’d set yourself a schedule from tomorrow onwards, you set about enjoying your night. You had a bath, ordered your favourite take away and sat and watched your favourite show. The next few days were going to consist of hard work if you wanted to keep on top of streaming and getting a post-worthy video up by the end of the week.

-

By Thursday morning, you had a video you were proud to post, a few more hours of streams logged and were ready to face the moresidemen shoot in all its glory. You met Talia outside the Youtube studio space with a few minutes to spare before the guys were expecting you in there.

“You’ve not met Harry, have you?”, Talia asked as she pulled the door open for you.

“Thanks”, you smiled. “No, I think I might have been in an Among Us video with you lot that he was in, but other than that, no”, you confirmed, holding the next door for the two of you to go through.

“You can’t hide that blush from me by opening a door, Y/N”, Talia grinned, poking at your side.

“Oh, shush. Just because he’s cute...”, you trailed off, walking into large room. Immediately, you and Talia were ushered over to some of the crew, having mics strapped and clipped to you.

“Hey”, Simon said to the two of you as you finished being fitted with your mics. “Thanks for doing this”.

You were both pointed over to a table with assorted bottles on it, two Krox shot glasses and three chairs around it. There were a handful of chairs to one side of the space, a few of the guys already sitting down. “So I’m gonna ask the first questions and then the guys are probably gonna pitch in a few once those are done with”, Simon told you.

You and Talia both made noises of agreement, walking over to the chairs and sitting down. Simon started with his intro to the video, explaining what was going on and who you were. “Okay so, you either answer the question or you take a shot of your choice out of what we’ve got in front of you. We’ve got questions from instagram and twitter, and then our lovely audience are going to be able to ask questions themselves. Are we ready?”.

The questions started relatively tame, most of them were about your friendship with Talia, Gee and Freya or the guys, and most of Talia’s were about her and Simon. You didn’t even think about pouring a shot until Simon had sacked off the instagram and twitter questions for not being ‘juicy’ enough.

“What’s the weirdest sex story Y/N has told you?”, JJ asked Talia. 

“I will take this shot for you if you even consider telling anyone this”, you told Talia immediately. She rolled her eyes as she grinned at you, reaching for the vodka bottle next her shot glass and untwisting the cap. “Thank you”, you sighed.

“Y/N, what’s the story that you won’t let Talia tell us?”, Ethan asked from next to JJ, the two of them breaking out into giggles as soon as you let out a huff. You reached for the closest bottle to you, pouring out a shot and throwing it back straight away.

From then on out, the questions started going downhill. The guys kept it somewhat reined in for Talia, probably out of respect for Simon and knowing how awkward it could end up being with the two of them sat right there. You, though? No ground was left untouched.

Bra size? Asked. Favourite position? Asked. How many one night stands? Asked. Have you ever faked an orgasm? Asked. Ever had an STI? Asked. There were some questions you had to drink to just so they could make it into the video. 

Talia leaned over to Simon, tipsily giggling as she whispered something into his ear.

“Y/N”, Simon stated, setting his eyes on you. “Who’s the best looking out of the Sidemen, in your opinion?”, he asked you.

“Oh, that’s easy”, you shrugged. “Harry”, you answered bluntly. It was only when Talia’s eyes widened slightly that you realised you’d actually said it out loud. You smacked a hand over your mouth quickly. “I didn’t actually mean to say that out loud”, you whispered to Talia.

The guys had broken out into a ruckus behind you, cheering Harry and shoving him around lightly, seemingly amusing Talia and Simon. You were the only one out of the three of you with your back to the boys, and you daren’t turn around now. 

Talia leaned over to you whilst the guys were still poking at Harry. “I only got Simon to ask because Harry hasn’t stopped staring at you since you started drinking”, she whispered to you, sending you a little wink.

“I - er - think it’s about there that we wrap it up”, Simon laughed sheepishly from next to you and Talia. 

You were directed over to the same people who strapped you into your mic to help you out of it. The woman finished fiddling with the microphone on your collar and got you to turn around, bringing you face to face with Harry.

“Oh, hi”, you blushed. He smiled back, seeming surprised you were speaking to him. “I wanted to apologise, I didn’t mean to just blurt that out. I clearly drank quicker than I’m used to”, you laughed awkwardly, reaching up to scratch at your neck nervously.

“Ah, no need”, Harry laughed lightly, scratching at a spot on his upper chest. “You handed the shots really well, if you ask me. Half of how many you drank would have had most of these guys on the floor, it was quite impressive”, he told you with a smile.

“Thank you, I was terrified coming in here that I was going to make a massive fool out of myself”, you admitted.

“It’s part of being on a Sidemen shoot, unfortunately”, Harry chuckled. 

You were both finally released from your microphones and wires, being told you could go on your way by the crew members. Just as you were about to leave, you heard harsh whispers behind you. Turning around, you saw JJ and Ethan both spurring Harry on to do something.

“Uh - er. Before you leave, could I get your number?”, Harry asked quietly, hand returning to the spot on his upper chest.

You smiled, walking over to him and holding out your hand for his phone. “Of course you can”, you told him, typing your information into his contacts. “I better get a text though”, you told him cheekily.

“You can count on it”, he told you, watching as you turned to Talia and linked arms with her before walking out of the studio space.

“I so totally saw that”, she told you, poking at your side with a massive grin plastered across her face.

“Just let me be happy and tipsy, Talia”.

[nethandrake]

Blood In The Water

stevethortony. mcu. rated t. 1.8k words.

based on this fanart i commissioned from​ @justlous-art

also on ao3.

*****

Press conferences, in Clint’s opinion, are one of the worst things he has to experience.

Every time the Avengers has to host one (which is usually almost every fucking week), it’s always the same old reporters throwing accusations, the same old debates being tosses around, the same old headaches and boredom creeping into his mind. They always end with everyone in a shitty mood.

The only upside Clint could see is that he only needs to speak up if a question’s directed his way. Otherwise, it’d be their co-leaders’ job to fend the wolves off.

Their co-leaders who are currently and unfortunately answering another stupid question from the press.

“Yes, Stark Industries will be footing the bill,” Steve says tiredly.

“We always do,” Tony chimes in. “Now, you with the green-striped tie. You’re up.”

The journalist in question straightens, fixing his tie. Clint doesn’t remember seeing him at any of the conferences but he looks awfully familiar.

“He’s from Fox News,” Natasha supplies next to Clint.

It takes everything in Clint to not bash his smash his face against the conference table. “Shit.”

“Shit indeed.”

“It is no secret that Mr Stark is, to put it lightly,” Fox Man begins, his reedy voice making Clint’s skin crawl, “promiscuous—”

“What does this have to do with the giant squid we took down?” Steve interrupts.

“—and have been known to get into relationships with men, women—”

“What is the point of this?” Thor cuts in, his cool demeanor now turned irritated. “We are deviating from the—”

“My question to you, Captain,” Fox Man continues, unperturbed, “is, what are your thoughts regarding Mr Stark and Mr Odinson’s…relationship?”

Tony stills as murmurs begin to fill the room. Pepper immediately whips her tablet out.

It’s not the first time Clint’s heard of rumors of the Avengers dating amongst themselves but it’s never been brought up during their press conferences.

First time for everything, he supposes.

Thor jumps to his feet, slamming his hands on the table. Outside, thunder crackles.

“You dare—”

Steve isn’t doing much better to rein his temper in, leaning forward with a dangerous glint behind his eyes. “I’d be careful with what you say next. Rumors of the Avengers fraternizing isn’t new so—”

“Oh, this isn’t just a rumor,” Fox Man says coolly. He jumps to his feet, holding out his phone. “I happen to have…proof.”

In a flash, Happy strides over, most likely to block the man’s path like the good Head of Security he is. Steve waves him off, beckoning for the device to be handed over to Clint.

On the phone is a picture of Thor and Tony kissing in a dimly lit alleyway. Or at least, men who are supposedly Thor and Tony. It’s hard to tell since the quality’s crap.

Then again, they’re both bathed in a soft blue glow. A soft blue glow that Clint’s come to associate with the arc reactor.

“That isn’t photoshopped,” Fox Man claims. “If you swipe left, you’ll find a video.”

True enough, there is one of Thor pushing Tony against the wall and god, that’s so gross. Who knows what’s on that wall—

Natasha snatches the phone out of Clint’s grasp, giving it a long once-over.

“Thoughts?” Clint murmurs.

“It looks authentic,” she admits.

Well, then. Fuck.

When the phone ends up in Steve’s grasp, Clint swears cracks form on the screen.

“I would like to know if there have been…issues between you and Mr Stark,” Fox Man continues like the oblivious idiot he is. Clint’s ready to reach pluck an arrow from his quiver and pin the asshole to a wall. “You come from a different time, a time where traditional and wholesome American values are valued. Mr Stark isn’t known for possessing such values. And it is widely known that you and Mr Stark did not get along. And with this…alien—”

“I get it,” Steve growls. It’s been a while since Clint’s seen in this furious. He looks ready to pounce, if Tony hasn’t stilled him in place.

Steve’s features meld into something soft, a look that Clint’s privately coined as the ‘Tony Look’. Oddly, it’s the same look he flashes Thor. The three of them trade glances, glances that only a super soldier, a god, and a genius would know. Tony’s lips curl into a reassured smirk. The other follow suit.

Clint wonders if that’s how Natasha and him are like. Because damn, he gets why people think it’s eerie.

“First of all, let me be clear about this,” Steve begins, “I will not let you or anyone disrespect my friends like that ever again. This is a warning to the rest of you all as well. You, however, I’ll make sure you’ll be banned from the next conference. And don’t think I won’t remember your face. Because I will. I have a good memory. As for your question, I don’t have anything to say about that. But I do have something to show you.”

Without hesitation, Steve leans over to capture Tony’s lips in his.

Clint would’ve toppled over if Natasha hadn’t steadied his chair.

“That’s…”

“Bold?”

“I was gonna say unexpected,” Clint says. “But yeah, sure. Let’s go with that.”

It’s an open secret among the Avengers that Steve and Thor have been hopelessly pining for Tony for months, even going so far as trying to outdo each other with their efforts of wooing Tony.

Judging by the way Tony’s cupping Steve’s face as they make out and the shit-eating grin Thor has plastered on as he saunters over to the two, it seems like they’ve come to a mutual agreement. A silent mutual agreement.

How the fuck did this escape the rest of their notice? Of Clint’s notice? Steve and Thor are two of the least subtle people around. The fact that they and Tony could keep their relationship on the downlow is blowing Clint’s mind.

Steve and Tony part with a quiet smack. Tony turns in his seat to fist Thor’s shirt to give his own kiss.

“I think my brain’s short-circuiting.”

Natasha scoffs. “You’re acting as if you’ve never seen two men kiss in your life.”

“Well, I’ve never seen my friends kiss each other,” Clint hisses. “You gotta cut me some slack here. I mean, look at Bruce.”

“Bruce looks fine.”

“His eyebrows look like they’re gonna climb off his forehead.”

Steve’s cheeks are flaming red when he shyly turns back to the stunned crowd in front of him. His expression quickly turns icy when he meets Fox Man’s eyes, who looks torn between hiding in a hole or lighting the rest of them on fire.

“Does that answer your question?” he challenges. “Or do you need me to give you another demonstration?”

Thor doesn’t let Fox Man reply, smirking as he inches over to Steve. “I dare say we have not finished his question, my love.”

And with that, he seals Steve’s lips with his.

Clint almost passes out.

“Okay,” Natasha says. “Now, that? That I didn’t see coming.”

Tony’s all smiles as he watches his boyfriends (boyfriends!!!!!) make out in front of everyone. It’s the smuggest and proudest he’s ever seen him.

“Suck it,” he says into the microphone, casually flipping off Fox Man, who looks like he’s ready to explode.

For some unexplainable reason, the rest of the journalists zero in on Clint after that.

“Don’t look at me,” he says, hands held high. “I ain’t kissing them.”

Natasha smirks. Bruce covers his grin behind his sleeve.

Out of the corner of Clint’s eyes, Pepper rubs her temples and pops a pill.

*****

The next day, Clint and the rest of the Avengers pile into one of the stuffy conference rooms on the helicarrier because according to Tony, ‘Eye Patch is in the mood to ream their asses’. Which is so, so unfair since Clint wasn’t the one who made out with his boyfriends in front of the press. Why the hell did he need to face Fury’s wrath when he wasn’t the one to out himself to the press?

Much to no one’s surprise, said boyfriends don’t show up.

Fury’s scowl is much more steely than usual when he storms in, slamming a newspaper onto the table.

Emblazoned on the front page is a picture of Tony flipping the camera as Steve and Thor make out in the background. Avengers: Gay Orgy?!, its heading screams.

“Is there something you people wanna tell me?” Fury begins icily.

“There is no orgy going on between the six of us,” Natasha immediately answers.

“Or five,” Bruce adds.

Clint nods his head, gesturing towards the newspaper. “Yup, yup. The only Avengers having an orgy are them.”

Fury raises an eyebrow. “And what the hell do you call this, then?”

“A threesome,” Natasha replies.

Clint frowns at her. “But that’s not even a threesome. They weren’t even having sex.”

“Threesome could mean three people as a group,” Bruce offers.

“Ah.”

“Speaking of threesomes, where the hell are Stark and—”

A resounding crash cuts Fury off, jolting everyone in their seats.

Everyone hustles out and makes a beeline for the conference room next door. Clint gets into position, readying himself to let his arrow fly.

He expects AIM beekeepers, HYDRA goons, or even Doombots. Instead, they’re greeted by the sight of the conference table cracked, the room in disarray, and the other half of the Avengers in a tangle of limbs.

Tony has sandwiched himself between his boyfriends as he sucks the soul out of Steve. Next to them, Thor glances up at Clint and the rest, beaming and flashing them a thumbs-up before Tony drags him into a kiss.

Clint’s going to need bleach for his eyes when he gets home.

“Are you sure the squid didn’t spray them with sex pollen or something?” he begins tentatively.

“Nope,” Bruce replies. “We got checked over, remember?”

“Twice,” Natasha adds.

Steve has the decency to look ashamed when he catches sight of them. He pries his boyfriends apart before jumping to his feet in haste. “Director! I– We were just—”

“Late,” Tony continues for him. “Sorry about that but—”

“We were distracted,” Thor declares.

“I’ll pay for everything,” Tony adds.

Fury looks absolutely murderous.

Clint clasps his hands. “Well! I think it’s safe to say that we all need a break. Or bleach. How about we adjourn this meeting for a while and—”

“Three of you are dismissed. But you three,” Fury jabs his fingers at Steve, Thor, and Tony in turn, “stay. We need to talk.”

Steve’s cheeks darken. Thor puffs his chest. Tony grins lazily. Their hair is disarray, their clothes wrinkled, their lips red and puffy and— Clint is not going to think about that. Nope. Not at all. Not if he wants to sleep at night.

Natasha immediately makes a beeline for the door. Bruce wipes his glasses with his shirt, following after her.

Out of the corner of Clint’s eyes, Fury rubs his temples and pops a pill.

*****

True to his word, Tony ends up paying for all the damages incurred on the helicarrier. All twenty thousand dollars’ worth of damages.

Clint couldn’t look at Conference Room Three the same way ever again.

*****

also on ao3.

[fleeting-queen-of-pepperland]

Love Me Everytime

Jim Morrison x Fem! Reader

Category: Fluff

Warnings: Some language, alcohol and smoking, some angst and pregnancy scare

Word Count: 3K

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

The room was perfectly quiet. Outside, the sun had yet to make its appearance in the east. Your breathing was tranquil and rhythmic, and you hadn’t noticed the empty space beside you on the bed. Suddenly, the door began to open slowly with a soft creak, a faint ray of light finding its way inside the room momentarily before a figure stepped in and closed the door after him. 

Jim knelt next to the bed and briefly scrutinized your sleeping shape with a glint of a smile on his face. However, he quickly remembered he was on schedule and proceeded to slide his arms under your shoulder blades and the back of your legs to pick you up as gently as he could, trying his best not to wake you up. 

He carried you inside the elevator and crossed the lobby of the hotel all the band was staying at, reaching the entrance in just a couple of seconds, thanking any deity that was listening for the lack of people whose noise could disturb you. 

A small car stopped in front of the hotel, driven by a bellhop who stepped out and handed the singer a set of keys with a smile. 

“Here’s the car you requested, Mr. Morrison,” he informed with a whisper. 

“Is everything packed up already?” Jim asked similarly, gesturing with his head towards the trunk of the vehicle. The young man nodded with a polite “yes, sir”. Jim thanked him and made his way towards the car, finding the blanket and pillows he had requested laying on the backseat. He carefully placed you on the makeshift bed and went on to the front seat. However, before starting the car, he remained still and in deep thought. His fingers tapped the wheel nervously as he drew in a deep breath, a single thought crossing his mind.

“Oh my god, what the hell am I doing?” 

Despite being nothing but a bundle of nerves at the moment, he never felt tempted to back down. That same thought had crossed his mind a lot during the last couple of months, but it always felt like a dare to himself rather than an actual concern. It only took one short glance at you from the rear-view mirror for him to start the car and speed down the empty streets, reminiscing of the night you met in what felt like a century ago. It was hard to believe it had been less than two years ago. 

There was no such thing as a “slow” night at the Whisky. If the music of the band of the day wasn’t blaring through the speakers, the constant chatter of the people who occupied the tables filled the air and gave the nightclub its signature undying effervescence.  

And, of course, one never knew who they might come across as many revered stars frequented the place. 

Jim Morrison, the young lead singer of rising band The Doors, was uncharacteristically nervous. Of course, he’d rather drop dead than let any of his bandmates see that, and so he retreated to a small corner of the place, next to the kitchen door. Sitting on a wooden stool he had found, Jim searched the pockets of his jacket hastily, fetching a nearly empty box of cigarettes. He put one between his teeth before diving his shaking fingers back inside, searching for his lighter. 

This was ridiculous. Sure, that was the first time the band would play at the Whisky and a place with such a reputation could be their big chance or the beginning of the end, but he was no stranger to many of the faces he saw among the crowd. Some of them he even knew from college, and they had heard the band play once or twice. 

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” he scowled when it became obvious that his pockets were empty, and the brief memory of the lighter resting atop his nightstand crossed his mind. 

Then, a figure crossed the back door and walked past him towards the kitchen. 

“Hey,” he called out, a little too harshly for his taste despite his bad mood. The figure stopped and turned back to face him. 

Back in the present, Jim shook his head with an embarrassed smile at the way he was taken aback by your eyes. When you both reminisced of that moment, you swore you hadn’t noticed and you hadn’t, but only because you were still unfamiliar with Jim’s nonchalant ways. Now that you had gotten through that facade, whenever he asked with that sultry smirk of his how he looked when he first laid eyes on you, your response was a mischievous “like a deer in the headlights.” 

Quickly recovering, Jim cleared his throat and lifted the white cylinder between his fingers. 

“Have you got a lighter?” he asked. You nodded and rummaged inside your bag, fetching the small, metallic rectangle you never went anywhere without and offered it to the singer. Grabbing it with a soft “thank you,” he finally lit the cigarette and took a long drag, releasing the smoke with a long and relieved puff. Now it was your turn to be said deer, staring at the smoke that delicately spiraled all over his features. His strong jaw, curly hair, and melancholic blue eyes.  

“Are you okay?” You couldn’t help but ask at the almost cathartic way with which he took another drag. He nodded, almost stubbornly and folded his arms, lightly tapping the cigarette to let the ash fall to the floor. 

“I’m fine,” he said, his aloof demeanor stinging your pride a little. You added nothing else and just reached out your palm, unable to refrain from rolling your eyes at the man sitting before you. He looked at your extended hand and then back at you, placing the lighter on it in an unexpectedly gentle and nearly ashamed manner. You gave one firm nod before throwing it back in your bag and turning to walk into the kitchen. Waitresses couldn’t afford being late on their first day. However, before you took one step, a voice stopped you. 

“Wait,” he said, “sorry, that...that was not okay.” he apologized, lifting the little box in your direction. You clamped your lips indecisively, wondering whether you should tell this devilishly handsome stranger to go fuck himself, or just be the better person and avoid any further conflicts. “Oh, what the hell,” you thought, shrugging and accepting the cigarette before fetching your lighter again. It didn’t go unnoticed by you that he observed you carefully as you lit it up and leaned against the wall next to him. 

“You’re new, aren’t you?” The singer asked as he stood, shoving his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. When he stood right in front of you, it became evident that he towered several inches above you. 

You nodded and dared to look up, right into his eyes, refusing to be intimidated so easily. 

“To the city too, huh?” Jim further inquired. 

“Yeah,” you replied with a shrug “Is it that obvious?” 

“Anyone who doesn’t carry a jacket with them during this month obviously doesn’t know shit about this city. What did you think? You’d be safe and warm in LA?”

You felt your cheeks burn at his statement, and your obvious ignorance of Californian weather, because that was exactly what you had expected. And as such, there wasn’t a single jacket in your hastily packed wardrobe. 

“Here, you’re gonna freeze to death out there,” he said before taking off his own jacket and throwing it around your shoulders before a voice reached your ears. 

“Hey, Jim!” a man shouted from above the stage, making him turn around just in time to miss a new wave of crimson spreading over your cheeks. “It’s time, get up here!”

“I have to go, but how about I buy you a drink later and you forget this whole me-being-an-asshole incident?” he asked with a boyish smirk that made it impossible for you to refuse. You nodded trying to appear as casual as you could, and he just smiled back before sprinting towards the stage and taking his place in front of the microphone. 

Little did you know that one single drink became two, then a date, and your unbeatable chemistry made it take off effortlessly. And then Jim asked you to come on tour with the band once it began to gain recognition nation-wide. 

He’d never say it, but he loved how you could perfectly understand whatever he was trying to convey to you without saying one single word, his quiet, private ways fitting yours perfectly. You could count with the fingers of a single hand how many times either of you had said “I love you” throughout your entire time together, and yet you’d never doubted how crazy you were about each other. And how, when the situation required it, both of you could break out of those silence walls and have a good laugh. Better than any he had in his entire life. 

And now, you were asleep on the back of his car while he drove, mountains filling the surrounding landscape as the sun began to emerge from behind them, filling the sky with a palette of beautiful shades of red and orange. 

Jim took an exit and began making his way into the mountain range, taking a road that snaked around the mountains, slowly ascending. The view was so breathtaking that he felt tempted to wake you up so you could see, but he reined himself in and kept driving. 

He drove past a sign that displayed the distance left until the exit that led to some waterfalls nearby. That brought a somber memory back to the singer’s mind. Ironically, that dreadful night was when he first concocted the idea that led to his little road trip. 

He had decided to take a break from touring and go on a little vacation with you, and Niagara Falls was the chosen destination. However, he had realized you were a lot less thrilled than he thought you’d be. Lately you had been distant, always lost in thought, refused to go out for drinks with him as you used to and one night he was sure he had heard you cry in your bedroom as he got home, only for you to lock yourself in the bathroom and turn on the shower as soon as you heard the front door open. No matter how much he tried, you always assured him everything was alright. But he knew you too well for that. 

For a moment he wondered if it was guilt over something. Perhaps there was someone else? He didn’t think you’d be the cheating type. And yet, it wouldn’t count as cheating, since you had never put into words the true nature of your relationship. Jim thought it was implied...but maybe he should’ve made it clear? 

He was surprised at how much the thought of you having someone else affected (and even afflicted) him. 

The singer was sort of hoping this little get away could provide both of you with the privacy you needed to figure this out. 

So, that night he gathered all his courage and, after a whole afternoon of walking around the Falls and having dinner, Jim took you back to the hotel room. 

“So? What did you think?” he asked, throwing his coat over a chair. 

“What?” you asked absentmindedly “Oh, they were beautiful. Better than any postcard, that’s for sure,” with a half-hearted laugh, you sat on the bed and anxiously toyed with the sleeve of your shirt. 

“(Y/N)...I need to talk to you about something.” Jim said, dragging the chair so it was before the bed and sitting on it. 

“Actually, I needed to talk to you too,” you said, pursing your lips together and forcing yourself to rest your palms on your knees. Jim said nothing and simply stared at you, which you took as a chance to continue. You had been worried sick about it for nearly three weeks now, you had wondered if it was even a good idea to say something, and in the end you had decided that given how much this could possibly concern him, it was only fair that he knew. 

“I’m late,” you simply blurted out. At first, he didn’t react. He just furrowed his eyebrows, like attempting to comprehend what you were saying. Finally, a wave of realization came over him, and with a soft “oh”, Jim looked down at his hands with an absent expression on his face. 

“Is that all you’re going to say?” you asked after two whole minutes. 

“What do you expect me to say?” he replied. 

“Jim, I just told you I might be pregnant with your child. Can you elaborate a little bit more on what ‘oh’ means?” you replied, standing up as you began to grow impatient. 

“Are you sure it’s...it would be mine?” he asked. He was torn between regretting what had come out of his mouth or treating it as a real concern. 

“Am I sure…? What are you talking about?” you asked, the hurt and confused look in your eyes sending a sharp pain through his chest.  

“Yes, I mean…(Y/N), we never discussed how...exclusive this was.” 

You knew he was right. As months went by, you never mentioned anything about a relationship, and neither did he, but when you began to notice how the other members would bring the occasional girl back to their rooms while Jim kept asking for one room where he stayed with you every night, it was sort of wordlessly settled. At least for you, apparently. 

Was it not like that for him and you had it all wrong? 

Had he been with other people since…? 

The thought was too much for you to handle, and you began to make your way to the door. However, he quickly followed you and stood in front of it, blocking your exit. 

“Jim, get out of my way,” you dryly said, attempting to walk around him. That only prompted him to grab both of your shoulders firmly enough to keep you from walking away. 

“(Y/N), have you been with other people?” 

“Fuck you, Jim,” you spat out, feeling tears dwell up in your eyes. 

“Have you?” he asked sternly, without raising his voice. 

“No, I haven’t!” you bursted, “I haven’t, I just...I never saw you with anyone else, even during tours like Ray, Robbie or John did, and so I figured...I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have just assumed things were like that-”

“I haven’t either,” Jim cut you off. However, when you looked up at him, you realized he wasn’t looking at you. His eyes were lost somewhere slightly above yours, as if what he had just said wasn’t meant for you but instead was some sort of personal realization. “I haven’t. I didn’t want to.” he repeated. When he finally looked at you, Jim cleared his throat and nodded, gently bringing you close and engulfing you in a hug. 

“We’ll figure this out. Both of us.” 

That short sentence was the most reassuring thing he could’ve told you. 

And despite the whole thing having ended up being nothing but a scare, it had set that whole plan in motion. Finally, the car came to a halt and Jim couldn’t hold back a smile as he reached out behind him to softly shake you. 

“Baby, wake up,” he said before leaving the car and opening your door. “Come on, rise and shine sweet girl.” 

You groaned and blinked groggily, blinded by the light of the morning sun. You looked at your surroundings confused, slowly realizing that you weren’t in the hotel room anymore, and all those swaying movements you had felt were not part of a dream as you had thought, but rather it was your insane boyfriend taking you to god knows where in the middle of the night. 

“Where are we?” you asked, sitting up and yawning. 

“Come out here and see,” Jim said, a tinge of excitement in his voice. 

You obeyed, and as soon as you stepped off the car a loud gasp left your mouth. You were standing atop a cliff, with the most amazing view of the Adirondack mountains displayed before you, the brown leaves coloring the landscape gorgeously. 

“Remember you told me there was a cabin your parents rented when you were little and that you’d give anything to spend one more weekend there?” 

“Oh my god, no, you didn’t!” you exclaimed, turning around excitedly. 

“No, I didn’t. I asked, it’s now private property and I didn’t want to get arrested today, but I found another not so far from here that can’t be that bad.” he replied with a mocking grin. You were too happy to take any retribution against his terribly placed joke, and simply hugged him tightly. 

“Hey, there’s a camera in the glove box, why don’t you go and get it so I can take your picture?” Jim asked. You nodded and raced back to the car, leaning over the driver seat to open the compartment and search for said camera, only to find it completely empty. 

Except for one thing.

A small, metallic object that laid right in the middle. Something that you recognized immediately and rendered you motionless, with barely the ability to take it and turn back to find your boyfriend standing before you. 

“Jim, what is this?” you asked. 

“Come on baby, you know this one,” he asked, attempting to make his signature smirk but failing miserably out of nervousness. Before you could add anything else, he simply took your hand and the ring. You were silently grateful that he didn’t do the whole sink-down-on-one-knee thing. This was him. Simple, unexpected, and yet so meaningful. 

“I don’t want to be with anyone else. If anyone had told me two years ago I’d ever propose to someone, that someone would come along and make me want to be with them and just them for whatever time I have left in this fucked up world, well...you already know what would’ve happened. But if that someone is you, then I wouldn’t want it to be any other way. So, what do you say? Are you willing to put up with me for a little longer than we expected?”

The only thing you could do was hastily wipe the tears that threatened to fall down your cheeks and kiss him like it was the first time you had done so in months. 

“I love you,” you said against his lips after a few seconds. He smiled and kissed the edge of your lips before adding. 

“I love me too, who wouldn’t?” 

This time, proposal or not, he earned a well-deserved slap on his arm. 

[overwatchredemption]

The first meeting [Part 3]

This is the events of the first Overwatch Redemption meeting as told through the recounting of Dr. Angela Ziegler, part 3 of the retelling.

The next Hero to arrive was Zarya, who said nothing as she walked in, sitting down towards the front on the left side where Talon was sitting a few rows back. She said nothing until Sombra came over and began talking to her. I could hear them definitely talking about something to do with Volskaya Industries and Zarya's involvement in the Russian Defence Forces. They ended up talking for quite a while, which left Symmetra to work in peace. She looked like she needed it.

Next to arrive all the way from Egypt was Pharah. I was very glad to see her, so I personally went over to greet her. Pharah, my assistant, and I had some catching up to do since my work in Egypt, and I was glad to see she was able to bring her Raptora equipment. Brigitte was very excited to see it in person, so I allowed them to get to know each other as I finalized my things for the presentation. Pharah also went around getting to know the other heroes before taking a seat.

Following not long after Pharah was Baptiste, who apologized several times for being so late. I happily told him he wasn't late and he seemed relieved. Despite his smile, I could tell Baptiste was nervous. If I were previously on the run from most of my new co-workers, I think I would be nervous too, so I can't say I blame him. He stood up on the stage with all the other healers, and I nodded to each of them.

"Alright everyone, let us get started!" I said into the microphone. It was a bit louder than I meant to have it, so I adjusted the volume as everyone turned to look at the opened auditorium doors. Tracer had just zipped into the auditorium, and into a seat next to Winston. "Sorry I'm late everyone! Had to pick up the old folks." She smiled, as two old friends of mine walked in the door: Soldier 76 and Ana Amari.

He had his gun on his back, and a visor mask covering his face, but I knew that body language all too well. "Good to be back folks." He said before sitting next to Reinhardt. Rein greeted him warmly, as did the others who had worked with him previously. He waved and nodded politely, but saw that we were attempting to start so he didn't speak much. I could tell he was being cautious, I couldn't hold that against him in an unknown environment like this. This whole operation was balancing on thin trust, but it was all we really had.

Ana quickly jogged through the doors, waving briefly to Pharah as she climbed onto the stage. "Sorry we are late, poor Lena had to pick us both up." She explained as she hugged me softly. It was a warm hug I had rather missed, and she looked as healthy as ever. Ana broke the nod as I happily forgave her for being a bit behind, and I moved back to the podium, checking the last box on attendance.

"Please quiet down, there will be plenty of time to catch up in the following days. Now, let's finally start this shall we?"

Everyone was here now. Project Overwatch: Redemption actually had more people than originally planned for, and I could not have asked for a better turnout of future heroes. After all, the world could always use more heroes.

This is what happened prior to the meeting, and if it is requested, I will discuss the specifics of the meeting.

Mercy, signing off.

- Mercy [Angela Ziegler]

[dreamescapeswriting]

BTS Reaction | Revealing Your Child [Request]

A/N: @akakasvx​ I hope this is okay for you! I know you said misbehaving but I already had a scolding your child one so I thought I would try to make things different.

Seokjin:

You and Jin already had another son together but when he was born you kept him hidden away for a while, deciding together that it would be better to spend more time together as a family before announcing him to the media and Army but it hadn't worked out that well. Many people didn't agree with the way you had handled things and thought it would be better announcing your child right away instead of waiting as you had done before. So this time it was different, a week after coming home from the hospital with your daughter, you, Jin and your son all get ready to do a family VLive to show Army you new daughter and talk to them about her.

"What do you think of your little sister?" Jin questioned, he was reading questions as fast as he could but the chat was moving way too fast for you to keep up with so you had no idea how Jin was managing it.

"She's so small and cute," You smiled at your son who was currently holding his baby sister in his arms, he was only five so you and Jin were both watching him carefully.

"I'll protect her when she's older, uncle Namjoon told me I have to protect her." You held back a giggle as you remembered the conversation they'd had one day, you walked in to find Joonie telling your son all the tricks to being an older brother as well as the responsibilities that came along with it.

"Do you want more younger brothers or sisters?" You asked as you took your sleeping daughter back into your arms and rocked her a little,

"Yes! I want a big family, with 10 little sisters and 5 brothers." You choked on the air you were inhaling and Jin started laughing so hard that the phone was shaking.

"T-That's- No," You laughed making your son laugh but you were sure he had no idea why he was laughing along with you, he just didn't want to feel left out of the fun you and Jin were having.

"Any more questions?" You asked Jin, trying to skip over the 15 more kids that your son wanted you to have, Jin was still laughing in the background while trying to find questions for you all to answer.

Yoongi:

It was your first pregnancy and you'd been blessed with twin boys which at first, seemed daunting but it was fine in the end. You and Yoongi were always making it work and had been for the last four years.

"Do you think they'll be okay?" You asked while nervously staring out of the black SUV window, you were at the airport to take your boys on their first holiday and the placed was filled with cameras. Your son's had only ever been caught on camera once and that was when you were leaving the hospital, all of the other times they would be hidden from cameras. No one was allowed to upload their photos onto the internet and no one was allowed to take photos without explicit permission first. It was all for their privacy but now they were getting older it was harder to hide them from the reporters and so it was time for them to be seen. You were more nervous about it that Yoongi was but you were ready, today wasn't about the cameras. It was about their first-ever holiday.

"They'll be fine, are you?" You nodded and the door slid open to reveal that the main entrance to the airport was flooded with reporters, it reminded you of when the boys or any idol went away on a plane.

"Let's do this," You whispered taking your first son by the hand while Yoongi took your second, they both held hands in the middle and you all walked calmly towards the entrance. Smiling and waving the cameras as you used to when you first started dating Yoongi. The boys kept turning to look at the reporters - fascinated by what was happening around them, while you and Yoongi focussed on keeping them from falling over.

Your child's photos were all over the internet and printed magazines everyone was talking about how they had inherited different aspects, they had Yoongi's eyes but your nose or ears. It really warmed your heart to see everyone talking to the kids well, eve Army who had held off on seeing them for so long was tweeting about how it was worth the wait.

Hoseok:

Your daughter had always wanted to go and see her dad in concert, she knew what he did for a living but the concerts were always so late whenever they had them so you promised to take her to a soundcheck instead. You were waiting backstage with her so she could watch from the side but she was getting agitated about not being able to watch it properly like everyone else. You would have taken her out into the small crowd of people that had gotten soundcheck tickets but she was only 3 and had only been seen by Army a couple of times before this. Hoseok wanted to wait until the right time to reveal her to everybody.

"Wait here princess, Daddy is doing his job." But she was getting to the age where she was too crafty for her own good, she slipped out from the reins you had her on and made a quick escape for the stage. Rushing out and grabbing onto Hoseok's leg as he spoke into the microphone, you stood at the side of the stage not knowing what to do. Hoseok bent down and smiled at everyone in the small crowd.

"I guess now is a good a time as any." He chuckled looking at you and nodding for you to walk towards him. You bent down so you were standing on the other side of your daughter who was now blushing and hiding her face in her dad's arm.

"Do you want to introduce yourself?" Hoseok held the microphone to her lips and she shook her head, hiding further into his arms as everyone ''awe'd'' at her.

"She's a minx, escaping from her reins." Hoseok laughed noticing that they were abandoned at the side of the stage where you had both been standing.

"Do you want dad to sing your favourite song so you can dance?" He questioned and it seemed to brighten up your daughters mood and remove her shyness as she started bouncing up and down and getting ready to play her part.

(If I was Hobi I would have died...I have an irrational fear of anything with wings...)

Namjoon:

This was something that had been asked for by Army for a while now and it was finally happening. A Run episode which was family-themed. Each boy was paired up with their partner and family and you all had to do certain different tasks or challenges together. This was going to be the first time your child - and the other boy's kids - would be shown on camera for a long period of time. They'd all been caught by photographers before but nothing like this, this was a whole camera crew shooting and everyone was going to see your family.

"You're nervous about the episode aren't you?" Namjoon questioned when he caught you watching your son and Jin's son playing together, you weren't nervous as such. You were just worried about putting your son's face all over the internet.

"Not nervous, just-"

"Want him to grow up and have a normal life?" You nodded and Majoon took your head so you would lay it on his shoulder. You knew that not one aspect of his life was going to be normal but you figured you could try and keep it as normal as possible until it could no longer be avoided.

"He'll be fine, I promise." You smiled softly at Namjoon and you both walked over to your son to get ready for the first task together.

"Who can build the best sandcastle, me or you dad?" You questioned your son who, without hesitation, pointed at his father and left you blinking blankly into the camera that had been filming you both.

"Why?" You questioned after a couple of seconds and your son started laughing,

"Because when we're done he lets me destroy them like a monster in a movie." You started laughing as Namjoon shook his head at your son. He'd watched Lilo and Stitch one time and he thought he could be stitch in the scene where he creates his own town to destroy.

Jimin:

Another day another fan signing, you were sitting backstage with your two daughters while you waited for JImin to finish and come backstage to you. Normally you would have waited at home but his schedule had been so jam-packed that he decided to bring you all along with him today. Your first daughter and your 3-month-old daughter who still hadn't been shown to media outlets or fans just yet. You were in the middle of talking to a stylist when you felt your eldest daughter starting to rock the pushchair - this was nothing new since she did this a lot to help her younger sister sleep.

"Can I take her for a walk?" You looked at her and smiled, she was 9 years old and loved taking care of her sister. Walking her around the venue in the pushchair and being a good older sister to her.

"Sure sweetie, do you know which way to go?" She nodded and took off in the direction of a small walkway which led back to you in a large circle, she was great with her.

It wasn't until you heard a bunch of people 'awh'ing' that you realised what was happening, you and the stylist ran towards the curtain that separated backstage to the boys and saw Jimin standing there holding his baby girl and your daughter was sitting on the table looking at fans. You rushed out onto the stage and Jimin chuckled,

"She just wanted to show off her sister, isn't that right?" You daughter nodded and looked up at you. You never could stay mad at her since she had her fathers eyes but you were nervous about what management would have to say about all of this.

"Does anyone have any questions for my girls?" You smiled backing off the stage and leaving the boys and your daughters to do their own thing while you watched from behind the stage. You hoped it wasn't going to be a problem with management since everyone in the room was enjoying in imprompt q&a with Jimin's family.

Taehyung:

You stared down at the Happy Holiday card with a smile on your face, it was the first Holiday card you would be sending out with your new little family on it. Before it was normally just you and Tae, or you, Tae and the boys but this year it was you, Tae and your daughter who was asleep in your arms - dressed up in the cutest little outfit.

"Show me again," Taehyung chuckled as he came into the living room. You handed him one of the cards and he chuckled taking it over to the cupboard you had under the stairs. Inside was filled with memory boxes from your daughter's life already, there was her first pair of shoes and socks that she'd grown out of, as well as her baby wrist band from the hospital.

"She's growing up too fast," You complained as you watched him slid the card into a folder of photographs of her.

"We can always make more." You groaned at the thought of being pregnant again, it wasn't going to happen for a long time. You were still trying to forget the pains of her kicking your ribs at all hours of the night.

The holiday cards had been sent out to family, friends and staff members and some had been sent to fans who had the fan membership with BigHit, all personally signed by both you and Taehyung. Everyone adored the way you had revealed your child to everyone and found it adorable the way she looked in the little costume you'd both picked out for her.

Jungkook:

"One photo and don't get me in it." You groaned to Jimin who was standing at the end of your hospital bed begging for a photo of you, your son and Jungkook altogether as one big happy family.

"You have to be in it, it's a family photo. It's for us anyway," You whined as Jungkook laughed at you being so picky about this. But you looked like you hadn't slept in a week and you'd just given birth four hours ago. You wanted to do nothing but sleep and spend time with your baby, not have a small photoshoot with Jimin and Jungkook. It was your first son and you wanted to spend all the time you could with him and his father before he had to leave again. The camera snapped the photo and you went back to smiling down at your sleeping son, you were enjoying how quiet he was but if he was anything like his dad he was going to be one of the loudest kids on the planet. Not to mention crack headed just like his dad is.

"Shit." You both looked up at Jimin to see what was wrong when your phone started to buzz in your handbag.

"You didn't..." You whispered not even having to look at your phone to realise what Jimin had done. Jungkook took out his phone to check,

"He did." On the screen was a photo on the official BTS twitter, you, your son and Jungkook all sitting together on the hospital bed.

"Manager Sejin is going to have your head on a stick." You laughed looking at the photo, your son wasn't supposed to be revealed for another month to give you time to settle down into your newly found family.

"It was an accident, I meant to send it to the private account and I just slipped." You let out a whine and Jungkook started laughing about it, you were glad he was seeing the funny side of it because you knew his manager wasn't going to.

Tagline: 

@writingdreamsnottragedies​ @yoongisdumplingcheeks​ @snowy-meowl​ @lynnthevirgo​ @jooniesdarlingdimples​ @chimchims-stories-and-tales​ @fan-ati--c​ @lyoongx​ @mitzwinchester​ @callingmyangel​ @btsiguess-kpop​ @rjsmochii​ @kneel-begyourpardon​ @taestannie​

[silvercrystalwhump]

Horse Trails

Here's some more Vincent Shield and Dmitri

Vincent belongs to @ashintheairlikesnow

TW: broken bones, falling from a horse, blood

-

The wind whistles through the trees like classical music that drifts through the walls into his dressing room. Bird sings choruses to rival any musical, pairs coiling around each other’s notes like two solos harmonizing.

Vincent’s fingers work around the leather of the reigns. Chick Pea, the horse Dmitri’s uncle lent him to ride on the trails with Dmitri, walks over brambles and leaves. Dmitri rides a few feet ahead of him walking down through a stream. Today, while the sun waned in the sky as it dips for winter, we bask in the fall chill as we head up for a cliffside to have lunch.

“I remember doing trails like this with my Dad,” Dmitri says as he guides his horse, Thrasher, up and over some logs.

“It’s nice,” Vincent replies absentmindedly, his thoughts as far in the clouds as they were in the woods. “What was it like?”

“Like this,” Dmitri says as he wraps the reins around the horn of his saddle, “He gave me a lot of life advice on these trails.”

“That's nice.” Vincent pulls some on the reigns, steering towards the trail. A little bit of anxiety nibbles at his fingertips. Dmitri and he rode around the field around his uncle’s barn a few times before but he was always close enough to civilization so if anything happened he could get help. Now, they were nine miles from Dmitri’s truck, and 50 miles from any hospital. It did not help that he saw Dmitri get thrown the last time they were riding around.

“How did you learn how to ride?” VIncent asks as his fingers knit into the saddle, “It's a bit nerve racking the first time you really go somewhere.”

Dmitri laughs, it’s a warm sound that always brings a smile to Vincent’s face, “Oh yeah, my first time Dad drove out to a valley and threw me on Vortex and I had to figure it out on a 20 mile trail.”

“What!”

“Yeah,” Dmitri chuckles, “Also was the first time I fell off a horse too, horsefly bit Peppers and I went flying.”

Vincent laughs nervously, “That's… something.”

“Don’t worry so much Vee,” Dmitri reassures, “ChickPea is an old mare, I highly doubt she has the energy to throw someone off anymore.” Dmitri slows his horse and rides next to Vincent. He reaches over and rubs Chickpeas pale fur. A beaming smile brightens the entire trail.

“It’s nice to get away,” Vincent murmurs as he passes the reins mindlessly from one hand to another. He adjusts the straps on his helmet and falls into the rhythm of the horse’s gait. “No one follows you with a camera and a microphone.”

Dmitri smiles, “Yeah, just nature and the occasional angry buzzard.”

“Angry buzzard?”

Messing with Thrasher’s bit, Dmitri winces, “Once I came out on a trail with a cousin and my presence angered a buzzard, I smelled like a carcass for a week.”

Vincent chuckles, “I would have paid to see that.”

His eyes flick to the bags tied to Thrasher’s back, He wonders how they have not spilled open since Thrasher has been the furthest from clam this entire trail. Vincent’s eyes wander to the tree line.

ChickPea rears, throwing her front legs in the air. Vincent grabs vainly at the reins. They instantly slip from his fingers. He falls back and a foot escapes the stirrup.

Time stalls for a second before going too fast.

Every drop of oxygen rips from his chest. His ribs scream as they slam into the dirt. He rolls and drops into a stream channel.

White vision as a spiking pain rips at his rib cage. Vincent gasps for air to replace the air that fled his chest. Warmth spreads across the underside of his shirt. VIncent can not see anything but white. He hears footsteps and his voice but everything is slurred together.

There’s a hand on his chest.

It’s pulling up his shirt.

Nonononononononono

Vincent’s hands fly up and push away at the hand on the hem of his shirt, “Wait- stop, please.” Panic biles in his throat as the warmth spreads across his chest. Pain, as hot and piercing as the solstice sun consumes the very fiber of his flesh.

Please not again.

Motor oil. The faintest smell of motor oil brings Vincent’s mind back to the surface. His vision clears just enough for him to make out Dmitri’s features.

“Vee!” Dmitri says, finger wrapping around the hem of his shirt, “I need to look at your chest.”

“Wait wait w-what.”

Vincent looks at himself and sees a pool of red staining his shirt around his ribs. His breath shortens as he shakes his head, “I-I’m bleeding.”

“I know sugar,” Dmitri says, calming himself and taking one of Vincent’s hands, “I need to see your chest to see what’s making you bleed, okay?”

“But- don’t take it off, please. I can’t-”

Dmitri interrupts, “I won't, I promise, I just need to see what is making you bleed.”

Vincent nods, his vision spinning around everything but Dmitri’s face, “Y-yeah but don’t take it- it. He-”

Dmitri gives Vincent his hand and Vincent takes it and squeezes it. Knuckles whitening around Dmitri’s dark fingers. Tears run down his face as emotions and memories fill his mouth with bile.

Dmitri looks under his shirt and his jaw sets. He reaches up and undoes the bucket on Vincent’s helmet and sets it next to him. Vincent’s eyes wander to the helmet, a large dent looms at him from the floor.

That could have been my skull.

“Vee, I need to go and get ChickPea and Thrasher because one of them has bandages in their bags. I need to go get them.”

Vincent nods, breath heavy as the pain in his chest weighs on him like sleeping under a hydraulic press. He looks up. Vincent is sitting in a dry brook, a three-foot drop is behind him.

How far did I fall?

The rocks surrounding him dig through his clothes. Wet tears dry on his cheek as his vision clears and the pain stays in his chest. Vincent becomes very aware of the crimson pooling under his shirt and something embedded in his chest. All the while, something underneath sends sharp pains through his body with every pulse.

Horse hooves echo to his left. His hearing feels slightly clouded like a delay between a video and a broken pair of headphones. Vincent blinks and his vision darkens and then suddenly Dmitri is over him again with bandages.

“I need you to hold up your shirt while I get this rock out of your skin and bandage you, can you do that?” Dmitri says as soothingly as he possibly can.

Vincent wraps his hands around the hem of his shirt. He, taking a deep breath, lifts the hem. His hands shake violently. The longer he holds it, the more fanglike memories nibble at his ears. Thoughts of Owen threaten to devour him and tear open his throat.

“That’s not good, Vee this is going to hurt, alot.”

Water hits the skin around the wound. Vincent screams. The pain whitening around his vision and he slams down his shirt. Tears pour freely from his eyes as he sobs.

“Please it hurts so much, please stop.”

Dmitri kneels at his side. Vincent’s sight blurs and spins once more, for a moment he swears that it’s Owen kneeling next to him. He tries to scramble back but it hurts too much to move.

“Vee, there’s a rock embedded too far in your chest to remove safely here and two of your ribs are broken. I have a first aid kit in my truck. I am going to wrap the wound up and we are going to ride back, I’m going to redress the wound and then take you to the ER okay?”

Vincent shakes his head. The only thing grounding Vincent to the fact that it is Dmitri at his side is the faint smell of cheap woody cologne and motor oil. “I- It hurts too much to ride.”

“I know sugar but it’s either two hours on horseback or three on foot. We need to get you to a hospital as soon as possible.”

“But-”

“Vincent, please we need to get you back. I know it hurts but you need to see a doctor okay.” Dmitri scoops up Vincent and walks towards Chick Pea. Vincent’s fingers grip into Dmitri’s shirt, fear building in his eyes.

“What if I get thrown again!”

Dmitri presses a kiss onto Vincent’s forehead, “There was a rattlesnake that spooked her, and I will make sure she doesn’t do that again.”

Vincent shakes in his arms, tears pouring from his eyes and a glaze of terror covers his gaze. He sobs as the pain in his chest thumbs with his heartbeat. Dmitri works the helmet back onto Vincent’s head. Guilt sits in his joints like deadweights.

Dmitri puts one of Vincent’s feet into a stirrup. He helps him onto ChickPea once again and takes the reins. Guiding Vincent’s hands down to the horse’s mane, Dmitri orders, “I need to hold onto her mane, it’ll keep you upright and it is stronger than you are, I am going to guide ChickPea back to the truck. You are going to be okay.”

Vincent nods and grips onto the horse’s mane. He sobs, gasping for air that does not hurt to breathe. He does not get what he wants.

Dmitri swings back onto Thrasher and starts back for the truck.

Vincent doesn’t remember the two hours of pain that it takes to get back.

[paintingwithdarkness]

"i run the night slot on campus radio and some jackass keeps calling in to insult my music taste and request high school musical songs instead” with BluePulse please!

“Good evening, Tigers! You’re listening to Houston U’s nightly segment. I’m your host, Jaime Reyes. Y’all just listened to ‘Today is the Day’ by Yo La Tengo. Next up we have ‘Seven Nation Army’ by The White Stripes.” Jaime pressed a button on the console in front of him, starting the next song before adding on to his commentary. “If anyone has any requests, don’t hesitate to call in!”

Jaime switched off his microphone and let the song play, flopping back in his chair. Running the night segment of the Houston University campus radio was a pretty chill gig. It paid him above minimum wage for every hour he worked, he only had to work six hour shifts, and it was only five days a week. Besides that, it was a solo job, and no one was there to tell him what to do. Obviously there had been some ground rules when he’d been hired— no cursing on air, and he had to take call-ins from students— but other than that, he had free rein of the radio frequency and he could play whatever music he wanted from 6 pm to Midnight, Monday through Friday. All he had to do was press buttons on a control console, sit back, relax, and occasionally answer the phone.

Speaking of which... Jaime checked the time. 10:28 pm. Great, that meant it was almost time.

With a groan, he raised a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose in exasperation, eyes squeezing shut. Every night for the past two weeks at exactly 10:30 pm, without fail, the same jackass student had been calling in to insult his music taste and request High School Musical songs instead. The first time it had happened, Jaime had been shocked at the audacity of the student, but had granted the song request anyway. (He had to. It was part of his contract. If a person called in with a song request, Jaime had to grant it. The only exception was if someone requested a song that was inappropriate to air. As long as it had clean/sensored language, and was free from overly explicit themes, Jaime queued up the song).

He mentally prepared himself. ‘Seven Nation Army’ was just about over, and Jaime already had his next song selected. If he timed things right, he could take the annoying student’s call during the next song, and wouldn’t have to subject himself to humiliation where everyone who was listening to his station could hear. It had only taken Jaime three nights to catch onto the trend.

As the guitar faded out, Jaime switched back on his microphone and addressed his audience, “That one’s a classic. ‘Seven Nation Army’ by The White Stripes. Hope y’all enjoyed that one. I’ve got a few more songs in store for y’all with the time we have left-”

The tell-tale ring of the phone interrupted him. Jaime had to bite his tongue to prevent the string of Spanish curses that wanted to fall from his lips from actually coming out. He had spent too long talking, and now he had to take the dreaded call on-air.

He took a deep breath, and had to layer on the enthusiasm thick as he ‘cheerily’ exclaimed, “It looks like we have our first caller of the night!” Jaime picked up the phone and gave the scripted greeting, “Hello, fellow Tiger! You’re on-air with Houston U’s nightly segment. Care to introduce yourself to all the listeners out there?”

Like all the nights previous when Jaime had asked this question, he got the same response. “Nah. I think I’ll stay anonymous. Keep things interesting. Though if you want a clue, I’ll tell you; I’m on the track team.”

Jaime scrambled for his notebook. That was the biggest clue he’d gotten yet about this mysterious student caller. It was almost like some kind of game. So far, every night when this student had called in, they’d said they wanted to remain anonymous, yet would give a clue about their identity. So far, Jaime had a bulleted list of eight items, with ‘track team’ being number nine. The other clues he’d received were ‘hates Indie Rock’ (which was Jaime’s favorite genre of music, thank you very much), ‘favorite movie is High School Musical 2’ (which was blatantly obvious, based on the songs this jackass student always requested), ‘favorite color is red’ (which told Jaime squat about who this kid was), ‘favorite food is chicken whizzes’ (once again, jack shit), ‘red hair’ (which was the first major clue Jaime had gotten), ‘green eyes’ (now it was obvious the kid wanted Jaime to figure out who he was), ‘5’9”’ (somewhat helpful), ‘Freshman’ (which eliminated 3/4 of the students on campus this caller could be), ‘mechanical engineering major’ (another somewhat helpful clue), and ‘gay’ (which, wow, Jaime would never out himself live on the air. This guy had some balls...).

After the mad scramble for a pencil, Jaime flipped the notebook open and single-handedly jotted down the new piece of information, balancing the phone against his ear with the other hand. When he was finished, he leaned back in the big leather chair, kicking his feet up against the edge of the desk in front of himself, feeling satisfied. Jaime knew he had enough information now to track down this annoying student and put an end to these stupid calls interrupting his radio show every night. Tonight would be the last time ‘We’re All in This Together’, ‘Bop to the Top’, or ‘Get Your Head in the Game’ would play during his segment, and Jaime was RELIEVED.

“Is that why you feel the need to call into my show every night?” Jaime fired back at the student. “So you can rope all of your track mates into singing ‘We’re All in This Together’ while you run in circles?”

An airy laugh was the response. And there a slight second where Jaime thought to himself, ‘Wow. That’s actually kinda cute,’ before his brain rebooted and he realized how counterintuitive that was. This guy was an annoyance that had to be dealt with. So what if he had an attractive laugh? It didn’t erase all of the other judgements Jaime had already formed of this student. And they were that this guy had terrible music taste and needed to find another hobby besides calling in every night to bug the shit out of Jaime.

“What better song to commemorate mutual suffering?” The other man laughed again.

Jaime scowled. ‘Mutual suffering’? Sure, Jaime knew the vexing student was talking about his track mates, but he couldn’t help catching the irony in the choice of words. As far as Jaime was concerned, the only one doing any suffering was him.

“So is that your request for tonight?” Jaime just wanted to get this over with already.

A contemplative “hmmm” made its way down the line, before being followed with, “Well, I was originally gonna ask for ‘Get Your Head in the Game’ but ‘All in this Together’ works nicely, too.”

“Por Díos,” Jaime mumbled under his breath. “¿No puede este idiota tomar una decisión?”

“Woah, hey, is that Spanish?!” Apparently Jaime’s mumblings hadn’t been quiet enough. “Yo hablo español!”

Jaime cringed. The pronounciation was terrible, but the enthusiasm was endearing. And dammit! He shouldn’t be thinking things like that. His train of thought was off the tracks again.

Without saying anything else, Jaime turned to his computer, quickly punched ‘We’re All in this Together’ into the song search bar, and hit play. He switched over the audio connection so that the only thing his audience could hear was the music, took a deep breath, and then made his rebuttal to the annoying student.

“You might want to work on that pronounciation, ese.”

The response was whiny. “Aww, it’s not that bad!”

Jaime cringed. “It’s not great, either.”

The student on the other line sighed. “Fine. But at least I have good taste in music!”

“That’s debatable.” Jaime didn’t know why he was dragging out the conversation. Usually after he granted this annoying caller’s request each night, the student rattled off a final jab at Jaime, before just hanging up. Why was he staying on the line tonight? Maybe Jaime just had to direct the conversation in that direction?

“My music is better than what you play every night. I’m doing you and your radio station a favor!” And yep, there it was.

“I don’t think people are tuning into my station to listen to the one High School Musical song you insist I play every night.”

Jaime could practically hear the smirk through the line when the other student responded. “Even if people are tuning in to listen to your crappy music, my song is still the highlight.”

Jaime groaned. He was growing weary of this conversation. “Do you listen to anything besides terrible High School Musical songs?”

That cute laugh caught in Jaime’s ears again. “Doi. A guy needs to have a little variety in his music. I’ve also got ‘Can’t Stop Singing’, ‘Turn Up the Music’, ‘Determinate’-”

Jaime’s eyes rolled skyward. “I’m gonna stop you there. Does your playlist contain any songs that aren’t from Disney Channel movies?”

A horrified gasp marked the beginning of the indignant response. “What’s wrong with Disney movies? High School Musical is the crashest movie series in existence.”

Jaime didn’t have enough time to think over the choice of the word ‘crashest’ before the other student continued rambling on.

“What other kind of music do you need?! Disney movies have great numbers, teach you about life and friendship, and growing up, and you gotta be kidding me if you don’t think Zac Efron is hot playing Troy.”

Jaime snorted a laugh for the last amendment to the other student’s statement. He’d only watched High School Musical once, and that was enough for him. And despite occasionally finding other men attractive (being bisexual himself), Zac Efron had never really done it for Jaime.

“I wouldn’t exactly call those ‘musical numbers’ as you put it, any type of masterpiece, however, I suppose you earn a pass for the friendship and growing up part.” Jaime smartly decided to skip the Zac Efron comment altogether, “I would say I’m more of a fan of the Disney animated movies. At least I can tolerate the Lion King and Aladdin sound tracks.”

A little puff of a chuckle, and then, “You should really get a better hobby than bashing on Disney movies.”

Jaime scoffed and immediately fired back, “You’re the one who calls me every night to bash on my music.”

“Oooh.” The other student made a hissing sound, as if a flame were being extinguished. “Caught red handed. But—” And here, Jaime could sense something dangerous was about to be said— “how about we settle this once and for all. You obviously don’t get out of the radio studio enough. What say you come to the next Houston U track meeting? We can settle this music debate once and for all.” Yep. That was a challenge.

Jaime took a few seconds to deliberate. He was curious to see who this mysterious caller was. Besides, what harm could it do? Jaime was not the type to back down when he was challenged. He had his pride and dignity. He would not be bested by this asshole. He was going to go to that track meeting.

“You’ve got yourself a deal, ese.” If the other student were there in person, Jaime could imagine shaking his hand to seal the contract.

“Alright,” the other student said, and if Jaime wasn’t mistaken, he sounded rather gleeful that Jaime had taken the bait, “I’ll see you there.” And then the line went dead.

Jaime ran a hand through his hair as he hung up the phone with the other. What had he gotten himself into?

The next Houston U track meeting was a week and two days since the fated phone call. Since that night, the mysterious student caller hadn’t rung Jaime’s radio station. It was a power move, and a good one at that. He had put the ball in Jaime’s court (or passed him the baton? That was a track thing, right?), meaning all responsibility was on him. In all honesty, Jaime was tempted to skip out on their ‘deal’. Sure, he’d agreed, but only because Jaime’d thought it was the key to get the student to stop calling. Now that the calls had stopped, Jaime saw no reason to get involved and draw attention back to himself. Maybe if he didn’t go, the annoying student would just leave him alone.

On the other hand, if he didn’t go, wouldn’t that just give the other student more incentive to start calling him again? Not only would Jaime continue to get bashed for his music taste, but then the other student would also be able to expose him as a liar. That was definitely NOT the reputation Jaime wanted to have. He had no choice. He HAD to go to that stupid track meeting.

It didn’t mean he didn’t drag his feet the whole way to the field though. Even with his ticket and getting there five minutes early, it was near impossible to find a seat. Jaime had no idea a sporting event like track would be so popular. What was so special about a bunch of guys running around in a circle?

It took a little shoving and some mumbled “sorry”s and “excuse me”s before Jaime was finally able to plunk down next to a young couple, in one of the only empty seats left. They seemed like nice enough people; the man even tried making small talk with him once Jaime sat down; but Jaime’s shy demeanor prevented the conversation from launching into something deeper.

Once the couple was no longer paying him much attention, Jaime surreptitiously slipped his little pocket notebook out of his jeans and flipped it open to the page where he had noted all of the little clues his mystery caller had given him.

Unfortunately, only some of them were usable in this context. Clues about the other student’s personality and preferences wouldn’t help Jaime identify anyone. Only the clues the track star had given Jaime about his physical appearance would be of use. He was looking for a redheaded, green-eyed, 5’9” Freshman. Should be simple enough.

When Jaime glanced down to where the runners were stretching by the starting blocks, he immediately noticed three boys with red hair. Luckily, this track meet was only a Houston U event and other schools weren’t participating. That meant one of the three was his mysterious caller.

From this distance, Jaime couldn’t judge eye color, and height was difficult to gage. He supposed he would have to wait for the announcers to give the names and grades of the competitors. Hopefully only one of the redheads would be a Freshman, and Jaime could find his culprit.

Within a few minutes, a runner was at the blocks for every lane. The first event was the 100m sprint. Everyone on the team would be participating. Only six could go at a time, and the announcer said that there would be three heats. Unfortunately for Jaime, the announcer didn’t bother with the names of the competitors since everyone was running, but he hoped that at least the winners would be announced, in case his redhead happened to be one of them.

In the first heat, two of the three red-haired boys were lined up at the blocks. Jaime trained his eyes on them. The first boy was in the second lane, and the other in the sixth lane. Hopefully one of the two would win so that Jaime could narrow down his suspects.

When the starting gun fired, all six runners took off like rockets. The pure speed was quite a shock for Jaime to witness. Within fifteen seconds, all six runners crossed the finish line.

“Winner!” The announcer shouted, once first place for the heat had been determined. He held up the arm of one of the redheads Jaime had been watching. “Senior Wally West with a time of 10.8 seconds!”

An elderly couple three seats over from where Jaime was sitting sprang out of their seats cheering. “Yeah, Wally!” shouted the man. His wife was enthusiastically clapping.

When they sat down again, the couple next to Jaime (conveniently sandwiched between him and the cheering couple) turned to face them.

“Wow!” the blond man next to Jaime exclaimed. “That’s his fastest time yet!”

The other blond man laughed (and it was then that Jaime noticed the striking resemblance). “He’s been working hard. Of course, he’s no match for Bart, but just maybe Wally might have a shot at beating him in the 3200m.”

The brunette woman of the younger couple hummed, a smirk resting on her lips. “I don’t know about that one. Our Bart’s got Thawne blood, too. He’s got runners from both sides. Wests... not so much.”

“Mel!” the man next to Jaime gasped, scandalized. “I thought we said no family rivalry at track meets?”

Immediately the brunette woman, Mel, appologized. “Sorry, sorry.”

“That’s right,” the man from the elderly couple interjected. “You have to remember Donny’s got some West blood himself. Iris was a West before she married me.” He slung an arm around the graying red-haired woman sitting beside him.

It was then that Jaime was able to piece it together. The young blond man— Donny— sitting next to him, was the son of the elderly couple— Iris and her husband (unfortunately Jaime didn’t have his name yet). The younger brunette woman— Mel— was Donny’s wife, and one of the runners— Bart— was their son, and the grandson of the elderly couple. Wally— the runner who had just won the first heat was a relative (?) of the two couples.

By the time Jaime was done puzzling out the relations, the next heat of runners was already at the starting blocks. Unfortunately, the other redhead, whom Jaime guessed was Bart, was not in this heat.

The starting gun fired, and the race was over within fifteen seconds again. The winner was announced, and the runners of the third heat took their places.

Jaime’s gaze zeroed in on the redhead in the first lane. That must be Bart. Mel and Donny were balanced on the edges of their seats next to Jaime.

As soon as the gun fired, Bart was nearly a quarter of the way down the lane. He was insanely fast. Jaime wouldn’t be surprised if he hit an Olympic time. His teammates stood no chance.

When he was announced the winner, Jaime had to do a double take at the 9.63 second time blinking on the screen behind him. That was more than a second faster than Wally, who had won the first heat.

“‘Attaboy, Bart!” Donny yelled.

The exclamation caused Bart’s attention to be drawn towards them. He waved proudly at his parents, and then his gaze caught on Jaime. Even from this distance Jaime could see the electric green eyes trained on him. There was no mistaking it now. Even with the other redhead to consider (since Jaime hadn’t heard his name or grade announced yet), he was certain Bart was his mystery caller. There was something in his eyes— a knowing glint— that made Jaime nervous. Could Bart know who he was?

It wasn’t completely impossible. Because he ran the campus radio at night, Jaime had a page on the school website. His name and picture were plastered right along side Cassie and Gar’s. Cassie had the morning shift from 6 am to noon, and Gar’s comedy segment ran from noon to 6 pm, when Jaime started. All Bart had to do was look him up and he would know exactly who Jaime was.

In retrospect, Jaime easily could have done the same to figure out who his annoying caller was. Once he’d received the track team clue, he could have pulled up the roster and narrowed his suspects down. He could have ruled out Wally because he was a Senior, and possibly even the other redhead based on his year. The announcer had said that Bart was a Freshman when he’d announced him as a winner, so Jaime figured he was the most likely of the three to be the caller. He matched all of the physical descriptors.

There were two more sprinting events that followed, each doubling the distance of the previous. After witnessing the 100m event, Jaime wasn’t surprised when Bart came in first for the 200m and 400m. It was honestly impressive. Bart was talented both in the art of running and annoying Jaime over phone calls. Truly difficult feats.

Once the sprinting events were finished, the competitors moved onto the field. Unlike the sprinting events, some members of the team sat out. Jaime noticed only six members of the team were participating. Two for discus, two for shot put and two for javelin. Neither Bart nor Wally was one of the six. The other redhead on the other hand, was lined up at the javelin throwing line.

Jaime paid him little mind. As soon as the announcer introduced him as a Senior, Jaime tuned out completely. Now there was absolutely no doubt whatsoever. Bart was his mystery caller.

While the field events took place, Jaime watched Bart stretching out on the side of the track. He was surprisingly limber. And Jaime had nothing to blame but the part of his mind attracted to men when he watched Bart bend over in his running shorts to stretch out his hamstrings. He had really nice legs, among... other things.

Jaime shook his head. He shouldn’t be thinking things like that. He’d come here to put Bart in his place because of the annoying phone calls. Not admire his amazing calves.

When the field events were over, some members of the team moved back onto the track for the hurdle events. Again, Bart was not amongst them.

“He doesn’t do hurdles either?” Jaime accidentally mused aloud.

Donny turned to look at him. “First track meeting?” he asked, kindly.

Jaime felt a blush crop up on his cheeks. He hadn’t meant for his comment to be out loud.

“Yeah,” he admitted, despite his embarrassment.

Donny gave him a smile. “They each only do one event plus the sprints. You’ve got the three field events, hurdles, and long distance.”

“Oh.” Jaime nodded to show he understood.

Donny outstretched his hand. “I’m Don.”

Jaime shook Bart’s father’s hand. “Jaime,” he returned.

When Don took his hand back, he used it to point to his wife. “This is my wife, Meloni.”

The brunette woman waved at him.

“And my parents, Barry and Iris.” He gestured at each member of the older couple as well.

Jaime ducked his head shyly. “Nice to meet you all.”

The pop of the starting gun drew their attention back to the track where the hurdlers had just taken off from the blocks. Jaime watched on in interest, amazed at the skill that had been displayed today. He’d never imagined a track meet being this entertaining.

After a few moments, Don turned back to him. “Who’re you here for?” He pointed down at the track members surrounding the edge of the rubberized circle, cheering on their participating teammates.

Jaime felt that blush bloom on his cheeks again. Should he be honest? He was sitting right next to Bart’s parents. What if they started asking questions he didn’t have the answers to?

“Uh, I-I’m here for Bart.” He didn’t really have any other options. He didn’t know the names of any of the other track members.

Donny’s green eyes suddenly lit up. “Bart didn’t tell us his boyfriend was coming! It’s quite a coincidence we ended up sitting next to one another!”

Jaime gave a hard blink, processing the sentences that had just exited the blond man’s mouth. “Uh, we’re not-”

Meloni cut him off. “Oh! You’re the one who runs the campus radio! I knew your name sounded familiar. Bart talks about you all the time!”

The first thought that went through Jaime’s mind was, ‘Does he now?’. There was no mistaking it. Bart was 100 percent the annoying student who called into his radio segment each night. And Bart knew who he was. As soon as this track meeting was over, Jaime was definitely going to have some words with him.

“It’s so nice to finally get to meet you!”

Jaime didn’t know whether he should burst their bubble. Don and Meloni seemed like genuinely good people, and they were happy for their son having seemingly found a relationship. Although their assumptions weren’t true, Jaime knew he would feel extremely bad telling them otherwise.

Luckily, there wasn’t much time for him to dwell on the subject. As soon as the winners for the hurdling events were determined, the obstacles were cleared off the track and the next set of runners were lining up at the starting blocks. Two heads of red hair immediately caught Jaime’s attention. Bart and Wally were lining up in lanes one and two, while a few more of their track mates joined them in the other lanes.

“Who do you think it’ll be this time?” Barry posed the question aloud.

“I think Bart’s got a running shot.”

Everyone groaned at Don’s poor-quality joke.

“I apologize on my husband’s behalf,” Meloni mostly addressed Jaime, “What he meant was that Bart’s been working on his pacing. He’s the fastest on the team, and has always taken first in all of the sprinting events, but Wally always gives him some good competition for the long distance stuff.”

Jaime nodded thoughtfully. Bart had definitely been fast; no doubt about that. But he was curious to see how he would do in an event that required more endurance. Apparently he would actually have some competition this time, unlike in the sprinting events where Bart had left all of his teammates in the dust.

When the starting gun fired, Jaime found himself actually holding his breath. This first distance was 1500m, just shy of a mile. Jaime could remember having to do the one mile run in P.E. back in high school and how much of a pain it had been. The best time Jaime had ever gotten was just over six minutes.

For the first lap or so, Wally and Bart were neck and neck. The rest of their teammates were about half a lap behind. Then, when they went into the second lap, Bart kicked it up a notch, pulling ahead. Wally kept his own even pace, a schooled look of determination set over his features, while Bart’s lips transformed into a confident smirk.

By the final lap, Bart and Wally were shoulder to shoulder again. It was clear that Wally had the superior skill when it came to pacing, as he had been able to keep the same speed the whole time, whereas Bart’s speed had varied in spurts, depending on his level of endurance. It was unclear which one of them was going to win.

When Jaime looked around at the stands, he could see fans eagerly debating which one of the redheads they thought was going to win. The general consensus seemed to be Wally, but Jaime had a feeling his High School Musical-song-loving caller had a trick up his sleeve.

When they reached the last 100m or so of the race, the stadium burst into cheering, each person of the audience shouting encouragement to their respective runner. Against all odds, and to the surprise of many, Bart burst into a full out sprint, easily overtaking Wally, and crossing the finish line with an enthusiastic whoop.

Jaime was absolutely shocked to say the least. After running three laps, how had Bart found the energy for that last burst of speed?

A time of 4.02 minutes flashed on the screen behind them as the announcer proclaimed Bart the winner. Meloni and Don broke into cheers beside Jaime, and Barry and Iris clapped as well to show their support. Even Jaime found a small smile working it’s way onto his lips as he clapped, in awe of the impressive speed Bart had just displayed.

There was a few minutes between events while the results of the race were recorded and the next set of runners lined up at the starting blocks. Again, both Bart and Wally were among the competitors. This time, the distance was more than double what they had just run at 3200m. Jaime was curious to see how Bart would hold up against the longer distance.

When the starting gun fired, all of the runners took off as a group, rather than Bart and Wally distinguishing themselves from the pack right away. With eight laps to go, Jaime supposed it made sense. No point in going all out during the first half of the race, only to burn out when it really mattered. Bart and Wally would probably wait until the final few laps to burst ahead of their teammates.

Around and around the track they went, keeping pace with one another until the sixth lap. As soon as they passed the starting line, all of the runners kicked it up a notch, and gaps between the competitors became more noticeable. As expected, Wally and Bart pulled ahead of everyone else, and chatter broke out amongst the crowd about which redhead it would be this time.

Barry and Iris seemed to have their money on their nephew (Jaime had finally pieced it together when Barry made the comment about Iris being a West before marriage), whereas Don and Meloni, being the proud parents they were, were betting on their son to come out on top. Jaime couldn’t help being biased, and was also rooting for Bart. After all, he was the whole reason Jaime was at this track meet to begin with.

Bart was giving his all. Halfway into the last lap, he was ahead of Wally by a few steps. It seemed like he had the win in the bag. Then out of nowhere, Wally pulled the same stunt Bart had last time.

Jaime could see Bart do a double take when his cousin passed him, but there was nothing he could do. Bart’s strength was his speed; not endurance. He was only able to give about 80 percent, whereas Wally had paced himself better, and could pour 100 percent of his speed into the last leg of the race.

While Jaime was disappointed to see Bart take second, he was still impressed overall. Wally had beat Bart by two seconds, but Bart had beat the rest of his team by nearly ten seconds, meaning he and Wally had had quite an impressive lead.

Barry, Iris, Don and Meloni were engaged in a chat about the outcome of the latest race, but Jaime found his eyes glued to his not-so-mysterious (anymore) caller. Despite losing the last event, Bart seemed to be a good sport. He and Wally were standing on the sidelines, getting a quick drink and catching their breaths before the final event was set to start. Between gulps of water, Jaime could see the cousins teasing one another, egging each other on, and hyping one another up for the competition of the next race.

When they were called over to the track for the last event, Bart elbowed Wally in the ribs with a cocky smirk on his face, and Wally retaliated by pulling the smaller man into a headlock to ruffle his hair. Jaime didn’t quite know what to make of it, other than that Bart seemed to have a cocky, playful personality. It explained why he had been so adamant about playing the stupid identity game he had roped Jaime into over the phone during his radio segments each night.

The last distance was 5000m, or approximately 12 laps. Just thinking about that much running made Jaime want to cry. Needless to say, he wasn’t a huge fan of running. Other sports, sure, but running was not something Jaime enjoyed for himself. He would have to give massive kudos to Bart for having enough dedication to running to put himself through the 12 lap race.

Again, all of the runners stayed in a pack for the majority of the race. By about lap eight, it was clear who the real endurance runners were. The six competitors had spread out, a few feet behind one another, with Wally leading. There was a black-haired guy on his heels, and following behind him were Bart and another black-haired runner, a little shorter than the man in front of him. Two more runners were taking up the rear.

Laps nine, ten and eleven passed without much change. It wasn’t until they got into the final lap that Bart mustered the energy to pull ahead of his two black-haired teammates and take up the trail behind his cousin.

Wally’s winning time of fourteen minutes and two seconds flashed up on the scoreboard, followed by Bart’s time of 14.08. Jaime almost had to do a double take. When he calculated the math, it meant Bart had averaged a time of approximately a minute and eleven seconds per lap, and Wally had been faster still!

While the judges and officials were confirming the results of all of the events that had taken place, the stadium around Jaime burst to life as audience members began to make their exit down to the track to meet with and congratulate the athletes they had come to support. Beside him, Don, Meloni, Barry and Iris stood from their seats and gathered up their belongings, preparing to go congratulate Bart and Wally on their wins in today’s events.

“You should come with us, Jaime,” Meloni suggested when Jaime didn’t stand up with the rest of them.

Immediately, a stone sank in the college student’s stomach. What would Bart think if he saw Jaime with his parents? He and Bart hadn’t even met yet. How would Jaime be able to explain if Bart’s parents brought up the boyfriend issue?

Reluctantly, Jaime got up to follow the two couples down to the track. He was sweat-dropping. He really hoped Bart’s parents wouldn’t make things awkward.

As soon as he was in range, Don slung an arm around his son’s shoulders, congratulating him on his multiple wins. Meloni also smothered Bart in a hug when she got her opportunity, cooing over how well he had done. Beside them, Barry and Iris were doing much of the same to their nephew, expressing their awe of Wally’s endurance in the long-distance events. Meanwhile, Jaime stood awkwardly by, waiting for a chance to hopefully have a chat with his not-so-mysterious caller.

When the Allens finally separated from their son, Jaime locked eyes with Bart. There was a glint in those green irises that Jaime couldn’t place. It wasn’t good or bad per say; Jaime could only describe it as making him feel on edge, ready to tip one way or the other.

As soon as Meloni noticed the stare between the two boys, she immediately turned on Bart, much to Jaime’s horror.

“Bart! Why haven’t you introduced us to your boyfriend? He’s such a handsome young man.” She used an insistant hand to push Jaime forward, so much so that he almost stumbled and fell into the chest of his supposed “boyfriend”. Luckily, Bart’s hands came up and caught him by the biceps before that could happen.

Both his and Bart’s eyes widened. Pink burned hot on each of their cheeks. Jaime took a quick step back. He felt like he wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

“Well?” Don goaded. “Don’t be shy! I’m glad to see my son’s finally been able to put the Allen-family charm to use! How long have you two been together?”

Jaime could feel the color in his cheeks getting darker by the second. Bart was still giving him this weird look, as if it weren’t his parents who had instigated this whole conversation in the first place. The prolonged awkward eye contact was making Jaime uneasy, and he was tempted to just speak up and shut down Bart’s parent’s idea about him and their son being in a relationship, but before he had the chance, Bart was clearing his throat to speak.

The track star raised a hand to the back of his neck, and Jaime had to do a double-take at the innocent “embarrassed” façade he was now putting on. “Well,” he said, playing bashful, “Guess the cat’s out of the bag, Babe.”

Jaime’s eyes widened to the size of dinner plates upon hearing the pet name. Bart was just going to go along with this?!

Without preamble, the redhead slung his arm around Jaime’s shoulders, crushing him into his side in a display of “affection” for his parents’ benefit. “Jaime’s a little shy,” Bart said, when Jaime failed to fill in the silence. “He wanted to keep our relationship a secret. I’m actually a little surprised he came to the track meet today.”

Bart subtly bumped Jaime’s hip with his own, which was a cue for him to talk. It took a moment for the raven-haired boy to scramble for a response. He would play along... for now.

“I had to see if you were as good as you were making yourself out to be,” Jaime had noticed Bart’s encoded message; he hadn’t expected Jaime to take his phone call seriously and show up. Jaime was giving his own back in return (I had to discover who the annoying caller was).

Bart chuckled. “Would I ever lie to you?”

Jaime had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. Now the guy was just laying it on thick.

“Of course not, Chiquito.” The pet name came out from behind clenched teeth.

Luckily, Mel and Donny seemed to buy their act. When it was clear they were in the clear, Bart asked, “Mom, Dad, is it okay if I have a few minutes alone with my boyfriend?”

Meloni and Don shared a look before Don said, “Okay. But no hankey-pankey behind the bleachers!” He waved a finger at them, teasing smile in place over his lips.

Jaime felt himself going pink. “Of course not, Sir,” he managed to get out, in spite of how mixed up this situation had gotten.

Bart grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him a little ways down the track so that they were out of Meloni and Don’s hearing range. As soon as he had the opportunity, Jaime whirled on him.

“What the hell was that back there, ese?” Jaime hissed.

Bart shrugged. “They bought it, didn’t they?”

Jaime felt his eyes narrow into a glare. “Why didn’t you correct them?”

Bart did another shrug, this time with a knowing expression on his face. “It’s not like you said anything either.”

Jaime’s glare fell apart under the truthful accusation. It was his fault for not immediately shutting down the idea when Don had first brought it up to him in the stands.

Bart placed his hands on his hips and began rocking back and forth from the balls of his feet to his heels. “In all honesty, I’m actually surprised you showed up.”

Jaime emulated Bart’s pose, resting a fist against his hip and gesturing with the other. “Well, I couldn’t risk you calling back during my segment tonight and accusing me of being a liar in front of my entire audience, now could I?”

Bart tilted his head in such a way that Jaime had to repress the thought of ‘Oh, that’s cute,’ before it accidentally slipped out of his mouth.

A faint pink blush rose to Bart’s cheeks. “I guess I did kind of back you into a corner, didn’t I?” He raised a hand to the back of his neck, and it was the moment that Jaime realized Bart was genuinely sorry for having done so. While he may have wanted Jaime to show up today, it was clear now that he wouldn’t have used Jaime’s absence as blackmail against him if he had decided not to show.

Not wanting Bart to feel guilty, Jaime shrugged it off. “No es gran cosa.”

A smile worked its way onto Bart’s mouth. “I have no idea what that means, but I’m guessing by the look on your face, you’re not actually all that bothered by it.”

Jaime sighed. “Well, besides inviting me here so I can tell you how much I hate granting your High School Musical requests every night, what exactly is the reason?”

Bart scoffed. “I can’t believe you had the audacity to say that to my face!” He was trying to deliver the line seriously, but the smile on his lips told Jaime that he wasn’t actually offended.

Jaime shrugged, a small smirk working its way onto his own lips. “What can I say? Disney Channel movies are cheesy, and their sound tracks are even worse.”

Bart chuckled. “Your music is too depressing. You need something more upbeat. Less lyrics about death, sad childhoods, and oppression. ‘We’re All in this Together’, right ah-me-go?”

Jaime cringed, both at Bart’s pronunciation and at the stereotypes. His music was more complex than what Bart was making it out to be. Besides, Jaime wasn’t here to argue anyway. Bart had invited him to this track meeting with ulterior motives, and Jaime was determined to figure out what they were.

“Not all of my music is depressing,” Jaime countered. “Besides, you ignored my question. Surely you had some kind of motive in inviting me here besides to just discuss your terrible music taste. I want to know what it is.” Jaime raised both eyebrows.

An unexpected pink blush rose to Bart’s cheeks, covering up the freckles sprayed like paint across his Caucasian skin. “I wanted you to notice me.” Jaime nearly missed the words, for they came out of Bart’s mouth in a whisper.

“You wanted me to notice you?” He repeated the statement, hoping for a bit of an explanation.

Bart’s blush deepened, skin in competition with his hair for reddest feature. His green eyes were piercing the ground, seemingly in an effort to burn a hole big enough to burry himself in to avoid such embarrassment. His fingers twisted harshly against one another. His whole aura had changed from the confident runner he had been on the track to nervous schoolboy.

“We’re in the same physics class.” Bart’s sneaker kicked up a puff of dirt as he ground his toe into the sand.

Jaime blinked. He’d never seen anyone like Bart in his physics class. Was he that non-observant that he had missed him?

“I-I usually sit behind you.” It sounded like Bart was struggling to admit something difficult. Usually Jaime was the shyer one in conversations, so he completely understood what it felt like having to lead a difficult conversation. But he wanted to get to the bottom of this. Bart was on the edge of a confession, and Jaime had to know what it was.

“I noticed how a-attractive—” Bart’s blush deepened yet again— “you were pretty much as soon as I laid eyes on you. I-I wanted to get to know you better, so I asked around a little. Turns out Cassie’s a mutual friend of ours. She told me a little bit about you, from working with you at the radio station, and I did a little bit of research on my own. I looked you up on the school website. I started calling in to your station. I kept asking Cassie if she could find out more about you for me. Your favorite color, food, movie... Any hobbies, or things you like. I started piecing together this picture of you in my mind, using our conversations on the phone to confirm or deny my theories about you. Eventually, I couldn’t take it anymore. I was desperate for you to notice me, so I started dropping hints on the phone, hoping you would take an interest. But you didn’t. And I-I can understand if-if you don’t feel the same way but IthinkIaccidentlyfellinlovewithyou.”

Jaime blinked hard. “¿Qué?” That last bit had left Bart’s mouth in an unintelligible jumble of sounds. Had Bart just admitted he was in love with him?

When Jaime snapped out of his confusion and looked back at Bart, he saw that the track star was struggling to hold back tears. A salty droplet fell from his chin and landed on the ground between them, creating a dark spot in the dirt. His shoulders were trembling with the effort to not let out a cry.

Guilt settled hard in Jaime’s stomach, like a boulder being dropped into a lake. The aftershocks were still rippling through his system. The pieces were slowly coming together.

Bart was in love with him, and wanted the feeling to be mutual. He had called in to Jaime’s radio station, hoping that he could get Jaime to take an interest in him. He wanted Jaime to pursue him, that way he would know for sure that Jaime felt the same way. And Jaime had taken an interest; he’d just done a poor job at showing it.

Hesitantly, Jaime reached a hand forward in an effort to get Bart to look up at him. “Por favor, no llores. Lo siento, I-”

Bart took a step back, angrily wiping his tears away with his fists. “No. I-it’s stupid. I built this idea of you up in my head, and it’s probably not who you are at all. I was just desperate and wanted you to like me back. And I know that me calling you every night was probably annoying and that you probably aren’t even into guys-”

Jaime surged forward, grabbing onto the other boy’s bicep with one hand and cupping his cheek with the other, and did something that surprised himself probably even more than it surprised Bart.

Bart froze, teary eyes wide in shock as Jaime’s lips smashed against his own. He was too surprised to react.

As soon as Jaime realized what he had done, he pulled back, blushing madly. Despite his embarrassment however, he couldn’t help the truth that fell from his lips.

“I am.” When Bart still looked confused, Jaime rushed to clarify. “Into guys. Into... you. I’m bisexual.” He raised a hand to nervously rub at the short raven hairs along the back of his neck, chuckling awkwardly.

Bart seemed to snap out of his stupor. “You’re into me? I didn’t think you were interested. I thought you only came today because I was blackmailing you.”

Jaime’s awkward laugh turned amused. “If you think I showed up today because of your so-called ‘blackmail’, you need a new definition for the word.” He moved his hand from his neck, slipping it into his pocket to pull out his notebook. Jaime flipped it to the page where he had taken down all of the little clues Bart had given to him over the phone and turned the book around to show it to the track star. Bart’s green eyes widened slowly as he read over all of Jaime’s scrupulously written notes.

“I wrote down everything you told me about yourself.”

Bart’s gaze slowly ascended from the page, an awed look in his eyes. Hastily, Jaime closed the notebook and placed it back in his pocket. He shifted his weight from foot to foot in consideration before finally saying, “I’d like a chance to get to know you. I want to give us—” Jaime used a finger to gesture between himself and Bart— “a chance. If that’s... crash?” He tested out the word he’d heard Bart use during a few of their phone calls.

The redhead’s face lit up like a child’s after receiving a piece of candy. “Yeah! That’s totally crash! When are you free?”

“Uh-” Jaime pulled out his phone to check his calendar, and nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt a hand clamp down on his shoulder.

“Time to get this show on the road, Kiddos.” When Jaime looked up to see who the hand belonged to, he saw Bart’s father standing between them, his other hand grasping onto his son’s shoulder. “Who knows what you two would get up to if Mel and I left you alone any longer.” Don playfully shook his head, before turning the eyes Bart had inherited from him on his son. “Your mother and I were college sweethearts, too. We know what kind of things kids your age get up to.”

Both Bart and Jaime blushed at the implications.

“Dad!” Bart groaned in embarrassment.

Don chuckled, as if it were all in a day’s work embarrassing his son. He turned to Jaime. “We usually go out as a family after track meets to celebrate. Everyone’ll be there. It’s a good opportunity for Bart to introduce you to the family. If you’re up for going, Jaime?”

The raven-haired student shared a look with his boyfriend? friend? person-he-thought-was-very-attractive-but-wanted-to-get-to-know-a-little-better-before-dating? Bart shrugged.

Jaime felt put on the spot. He and Bart had just discussed the possibility of beginning a relationship, and now he was supposed to meet the ‘rents? Not that he hadn’t already, but that was beside the point. Going out for a meal with Bart’s parents, grandparents, cousin and who-knows-who-else, and having to pretend that he’s madly in love with someone he was just meeting for the first time today? This had the potential to kill any chances he and Bart had at actually beginning a real relationship.

“I’m sorry, I already have plans,” was what Jaime wanted to say. Instead, he said, “Sure. I’d love to get to meet your family, Cariño.”

“Good evening, Tigers! You’re listening to Houston U’s nightly segment. I’m your host, Jaime Reyes-”

“-and his amazing boyfriend, Bart Allen-”

Jaime had to stifle an ‘oomph!’ as his boyfriend of three glorious months slung an arm around his neck and plopped down on his lap, leaning in close to the microphone so that he could be heard, too.

“-Next up we have ‘Flourescent Adolescence’ by Arctic Monkeys-”

“-And after that, ‘I Can’t Take My Eyes Off of You’ from High School Musical!” Bart slammed a finger into the ‘play’ button, starting the next song in the queue, before swinging his leg around so he could straddle Jaime’s lap and drag him into a kiss.

When they pulled apart, Jaime had a pout on his lips. “Who let you in here?” Bart wasn’t supposed to be in the studio, especially when Jaime was live on the air.

The younger smirked deviously. “Cassie might have loned me her key so that I could pay my boyfriend a visit while he was working...”

Jaime shook his head. “Of course she did.”

Bart booped his nose with a fingertip. “Don’t act so put out. You know you looooove me.”

Jaime shook his head, trying to keep a poker face. “Nope. You just tainted my reputation by saying that we’re gonna play High School Musical songs voluntarily. How could I love someone who would pull such a slanderous act against me?”

Bart poked his nose again. “You looooove me.”

Jaime shook his head. His lips threatened to quirk up into a smile. His poker face was cracking. “Nope.”

Bart hovered his lips dangerously close to Jaime’s own. “Admit it, Babe. You love me more than anyone in the world.”

Jaime’s mask crumbled. “Yeah,” he finally admitted. “Te amo con todo mi corazón.” He pulled Bart that little inch forward to kiss him again.

Unfortunately the phone cut their loving moment shorter than either boy wanted. Jaime picked it up.

“Hello, fellow Tiger! You’re on-air with Houston U’s nightly segment. Care to introduce yourself to all the listeners out there?”

“Yeah, Jaime, it’s Gar. I’m glad to hear that you finally found yourself a good partner, but next time you might want to make sure your mic is off before making any declarations of love while you’re live.”

Crimson bloomed to life across the entirety of his face while Gar hung up on the other end of the line. Immediately, the radio host leaned forward and flicked off the switch to his microphone. Jaime buried his face in his hands.

“I hate you!” He directed at Bart in an embarrassed moan.

Bart chuckled. “Nah. You looooove me.”

Here it finally is @purple--waffles! I’m so sorry it took me so long! I’ve been slowly working on it since the day your request arrived in my asks. Life is crazy, and I haven’t had a whole lot of time to write recently, but I really wanted to finish this for you. My mind ran with the prompt, and even though it took me awhile, hopefully the length makes up for it??? Maybe? Anyways, I hope you enjoy it!

[stanzoeywade]

Queen B Mamma Mia!AU pt.3

Summary: This chapter will be about Poppy and MC, with Poppy having the role of Sam from Mamma Mia. After this I will be writing the endings, where I will write about MC’s future with Chloe, Veronica and Poppy. Trying to give all the stans what they want. Hopefully, I nailed Poppy’s character. Please tell me what you thought.

Taglist: @somewillwin @belvoiresqueenbee @origmansello @clownery-is-a-new-personality @kamilahtrash @poppysminion @poppysimp @minsinclair-lee @poppysmc @iiizdumb @uselesslesbianfr @scattered-to-the-winds @idiot-justidiot @toyhenoctus @begoniathotia @otakufangirl-12 @malvinghlein @ariaminsinclair @queenpoppyminsinclair @lavenderrtown

Warnings: smut, nsfw (not safe for clowns)

Play I HAVE A DREAM.

•You were making your way around the island after being dropped off by Veronica, and as you were exploring the many sights to be seen, a small little house catches your attention. You make your way towards it and enter, the place may look run down and old but you can already imagine how it would look if a little bit of TLC was used to build it up again.

• You can already imagine it as a popular hotel for people to visit, boosting the popularity of the island and hopefully increasing the economy for the people who lived there.

• There was a staircase and out of curiosity, you decide to go up and explore upstairs, it was dusty. The house clearly hasn't been used or cleaned for years. In all your excitement, you slide down the staircase which causes it to fall. Letting an awkward giggle you run away, hoping no one heard you.

• As you were making your way towards a small barn, the rain starts to pour and you can't help but think about what Veronica said. "A storm is coming." You just laugh in delight, as you run in the rain. You reach the stables and the building begins to creak and you're about to make your way out until you hear the sound of an animal in panic.

• You go in to see a panicking horse and seeing that you wouldn't be able to calm it down by yourself, you quickly reassure the horse that you'll be back with help. "I'll be back, I'm just coming to get someone to help, stay there okay."

• You quickly run outside, desperately hoping for anyone to pass by in the storm. You yell out desperately "I NEED HELP, ANYONE!", hoping to attract anyone's attention.

• You hear the sound of a motorbike, and a blonde woman stops in front of you. "Is there anything I can do to help?" she says and you're immediately awed by her beauty, even with her hair a mess from the rain and her clothes dripping, she still manages to look gorgeous. Her brown eyes glimmer in anticipation, as if eager to help.

• You quickly explain that you need her help to take care of the horse, she immediately follows you inside the stables, and the two of you carefully approach the horse, making sure not to startle it.

• "Well this is gonna be easy, I'm a veterinarian." she says and you're immediately relieved as you ask "Really?" She just looks at you with a wry smile and as she says "No, I'm not, I'm an architect." You just shake your head and say "Okay, just talk to horse gently, to make them feel at ease." She gives you an affirmative nod as she gently calms the horse down. "This would be easier if I was calm" she says.

• You take the reins off and immediately open the gate to let the horse out from the shaky building. You can't help the relieved sigh that comes out as you get out safely. You look at the stranger and say "Thanks, also it's nice to meet you. I'm Rosie Hughes by the way."

• She looks at you as she flashes you a charming smile "Poppy Min-Sinclair, the pleasure is mine Miss Hughes." The two of you smile at each other, and you suggest that you find a place for the horse to stay.

• The two of you decide to tour around the island together, and you both make your way to market, and you're looking for new clothes. Poppy makes conversation by asking "What brings you here?" and you just shoot her a smile as you say "I don't know, I just wanted to explore the world and this place is absolutely beautiful. Plus I wanted to piss off my mother, she's always touring." Poppy looks at you with something akin to understanding as she says "Your mother sings?" You nod at her. "Yes, with a voice as sweet as sugarcane."

• She sees a dress and is about to tell you "This will suit -" she's cut off as you appear in front of her wearing overalls. You laugh at her as you say "You really, don't know me at all."

• The two of you head down to a local pub, and you're immediately entertained by the band that is playing. "I absolutely, love this place, oh my God." you say as Poppy just gives you a questioning look that says "Are you serious?!"

• The two of you start to talk and you talk about your personal lives and Poppy asks "Your mother wouldn't miss you?" You just look and smile at her. The smile not quite reaching your eyes as you say "She's not that kind of mother." Poppy looks apologetic and she's about to apologise when you cut her off. "Don't be sorry, it's okay I'm not angry at her, it's not a sob story."

• Poppy tells you that her whole life has been planned for her. "I'm only here because I wanted to get away and finally achieve freedom. I'm not going to be able to stay forever, but hopefully, I find something to make me stay."

• Poppy hesitates and looks like she's about to say something important but you were already distracted by the band finishing their song. "That was amazing! I loved it!" you turn to the bar and speak to the lady. "Are you the owner?" she just points forward as she says "My son the owner, because no one else let his band play."

• The owner approaches you and says "Thank you, how do you like the island?" You practically vibrate with excitement and Poppy can't help but think that you're cute. "I love it here, it's very relaxing. I also love your band, you guys are amazing. I would love to sing with you guys and my friends from home." He looks at you as he says "You sing?"

• You're about to shyly deny, until Poppy interjects and says "Yes she sings, sweet as sugarcane." The man looks at you expectantly as he hands you the microphone. "Sing." he says and you're flabbergasted "Just like that? I need time to prepare." He just replies with "Here on island, everything just like that."

Play Andante Andante.

• As soon as you get up on the stage, your voice starts to fill the room, and Poppy's eyes are drawn to you. The whole pub becomes more lively as people start to sing along with you, and you're happy because you love singing. After, he says "You're hired!" as everyone claps.

• After that day, you and Poppy get a little bit closer, the two of you got out for long walks basking in the moonlight, where you both have your first kiss. The funny thing is that your first kiss was also in front of where you met.

• The two of you decide to go on a date, Poppy rowing, and you're off to go to on a picnic. For someone so small, Poppy can be strong. "I don't think you know what you're doing Pop." Poppy just laughs at you as she says "I'm hoping that if I keep rowing forward we'll bump into land. There's another island over there, I was hoping we might go for a picnic." You look at her, curious "Where are we going to get the food?" and she just says "I was hoping we can catch it on the way."

• Your expression turns serious, and you struggle to form the words until a sudden burst of courage overtakes you. You clear your throat. "Uh, we should probably talk about last night. I don't usually do that, I mean hardly ever. Well, sometimes. A bit recently in fact. But, on the whole, not." Poppy looks at you, clearly amused by your sudden shyness. "I thought it was miraculous." she says with a gentle smile.

• You bite your bottom lip shyly as you say "Um, I'm gonna say something, and you're probably going to think that I'm crazy but you should shut up as I'm saying it." Poppy tries to cut you off but you just keep going "I want to stay here, and I think you should too. I think we should choose to do something radical, wonderful, and amazing. To live in this extraordinary place with someone miraculous."

• Poppy looks at you entranced and you notice the way she was staring. You shake your head slightly as you say "I told you, you'd think it was crazy." Poppy makes eye contact, sadness hidden in those brown eyes "I just don't think it's that simple. Nothing usually is."

• "Everything is. When you break it down." you say voice unwavering, and Poppy looks away and it's clear that she's thinking. She chuckles as she says "I don't think it's crazy."

• Poppy starts to take photos of you, and she knows that she's become smitten in the short time you've spent together. The way the two of you look at each other with such affection in your eyes makes it obvious that you adore each other.

Play THE NAME OF THE GAME.

NSFW UNDER CUT

• Whilst Chloe was soft and sweet, Veronica passionate. Poppy was everything you wanted, the two of you knew exactly what the other needed and it was addicting. She was like a drug you can't quit or get enough of.

• The two of you spent the night together. For someone who looks as elegant and proper as Poppy, you're surprised to know that she can be quite the little minx in bed.

• It starts off with a bang, both of you can feel electricity with each kiss, neither of you know who kissed who first. The kisses start off slow and gentle as if you're just getting used to each other. Your hands find their way to the small of her back, and you start to circle your thumb against her.

• Poppy's moans into the kiss, and you're left wanting more because Poppy sounds so good. Her hands start to wander, and she reaches your lower back, which she gives a firm squeeze and you can't help the groan that escapes your lips. Poppy looks at you with half-lidded eyes and pupils blown as she starts to strip you until all that's left is your underwear.

• She deftly moves a hand to cup your breast, whilst the other unhooks your bra. Her mouth trails down from your jaw to your breasts where she nips and sucks at every patch of skin she can reach. You both stumble into bed, and Poppy's mouth finds your nipple, which she gently starts to tease with her tongue.

• The sounds that come out of your mouth is pure sin, a mixture of muffled moans and screams as you cover your mouth with the back of your hand. Poppy notices and she's quick to take your hand away. "I want to hear every noise you make. Don't be shy." she says huskily and it sends a wave of arousal down your inner thighs. This causes you to rub your thighs together. Poppy notices the moist fabric, and her fingers trail down to touch the strap of your underwear. You're already left whining at the contact because you want her to touch lower.

• "What is it that you want Rosie? Do you want me to touch lower?" she says voice dropping an octave. You're whining mess underneath her, and you know there's no point in playing hard to get so you just nod your head so fast it could have caused a normal person whiplash.

• Poppy moves her hands lower, and she removes your underwear. Her fingers find your clit and she presses the pad of her fingers on it. Desperate for any kind of friction your hips grind against her. Poppy holds your hips down as she makes a displeased noise. "Tsk tsk, Hughes, I'm in charge, you're only allowed to moved when I tell you to." Your head is spinning and you're, really desperate but you follow her wishes.

• Poppy starts off by teasing you, slowly tracing her fingers on your pussy, and as she feels how wet you are, she lets out a satisfied groan."You're so wet for me, how much did you want to do this?" she says as she slowly starts to insert her index and middle finger into your core.

• A sob escapes your lips and you have to bite your lips to stop moving against her finger. Poppy notices how needy you look and she says "What do you want me to do? Tell me clearly." Your voice sounds shaky as you stutter out the words she wants to hear "Poppy, please I need you to move your fingers, I'm begging you please."

• Poppy's eyes light up as she hears you beg, suddenly she leans forward to kiss your neck. "Anything my baby asks for she gets." She starts to thrust her fingers in and out at a steady pace, she can see your face contorted into a look of pleasure. "Does that feel good?" she asks and your answer is only to pull her in her closer. She gives you a noise of approval as she works you up faster. When you're close Poppy stops and you whine.

• She looks down at you and says "Grind" and you follow. You start to grind on her fingers as she thrusts it inside you. You can feel your muscles go taut, and your vision begins to turn white. Your body starts to spasm, as you reach your climax, letting out a scream as you do so, only to be muffled by Poppy kissing you.

• Poppy looks satisfied until she sees the troubled look on your face. "What's wrong? Did that not feel good?" she asks, worried. You just shake your head at her. "I want to make you cum too." Poppy flushes and she's about to deny you until she feels you tugging on her arm. "Sit on my face, princess."

• Poppy's whole body turns red and you laugh as she settles herself down on your face. "This is gonna be fun" you say as you lap at Poppy's cunt, eyes rolling back at the taste. Poppy's hands make their way to your hair where she tugs. "Fuck you taste so good Poppy. I could get addicted." you say as you let Poppy grind her hips against your mouth. You tease her entrance and flick her clit with tongue. The noises that escape Poppy are intoxicating, you don't think any song can compare." You can tell Poppy's about to cum when you hear her ragged breathing and her hips jerking faster.

• Poppy climaxes with a loud moan, so much so you're pretty sure everyone in the vicinity heard you. Poppy falls forward and has to put her hand against the wall to keep herself from falling. You catch all of her cum with your tongue, and it tastes uniquely of Poppy and you know its something you can't forget.

• Poppy gets off you and as she lies down on the bed, you can see her chest heaving and Poppy gasping for air. The two of you share a fond look, as you both bask in the afterglow. After a few minutes, Poppy drifts off to sleep and you know that you're falling for her really hard.

Play KNOWING ME KNOWING YOU.

• The next day, as you make your way to the kitchen to make some breakfast a journal catches your attention. Curious, you open it to see a photo of Poppy with a man and a ring on her finger. Anger and rage fill you as you wake Poppy up to confront her.

• Poppy wakes up with a jolt. "When were you going to tell me that you were engaged?!" you yell angry tears falling from your eyes. Poppy looks at you and say "I can explain, please let me talk." You look at her, silent fury visible in your eyes. "Yeah you can talk, I have three questions for you and you're going to answer them for me" you say as calmly as you can.

• "Are you engaged to that wonderful man?" and she replies with "Yes." voice shaky as if she's scared to lose you. "And did you tell me about it?" you ask. She shakes her head at you "No" and you just throw your hands in surrender as you say "And did you seriously think that I was going to forgive you?" you say as you turn away from her. "Wait, please I can explain!" she pleads and you're done "No more talking, go!"

• Poppy packs her things as she gets ready to leave the island. She sees you as leaves, your figure fading in the distance, and she knows she blew it. She doesn't think that she can love someone else the way she loved you.

[artxyra]

Lose You to Love Me | Song!Fic

So, I’ve been meaning to use this song for a while now and I finally have gotten to it. Once again my uploads are going to be once in a blue moon, I’m working on a script that I want to put into a competition and let’s just say original ideas take me the longest to formulate and write. 

The crowds grow wild as the music begins to play over the large pink speakers. Yells of excitement vary across the crowd. The chanting of a singular name, Reinette, chorus through various mouths of ravenous fans. 

However, little did the crowd of fans knew, their pop star is on the verge of a breakdown.  

It was the anniversary of her life crashing down around her. Everyone in her private circle thought they made it past this, but they were wrong. The cries of a broken heart echo through the walls. 

“Will she be alright, love?” I certain rock star ask his daring wife. The wife looks up to him and smiles softly. They may view the pop star as their daughter but even they knew the hardships she had to endure to get to where she is now. 

“I sure hope so, but you know how she is, Jagged. She’ll put on a show despite her wellbeing.” The wife answers, taking her husband’s hand into her own. 

“Maybe it wasn’t so rock ‘n roll to have a concert during this time of the year. Though, you are right. She wouldn’t want to disappoint her fans. They have supported her through so much.” 

“From the first video, she ever posted to now.” 

The couple shares a chuckle. 

It was then that the echoing cries fade into silence. Everyone behind stage waits with a sharpened breath.  

The door opens to reveal a dark-haired, pink low light, young woman in her early twenties. Her face caked with make-up but still able to look natural. Her performing out dazzling in the limelight. 

“Reinette?” The wife cautiously asks. 

Reinette turns to the woman, her pale blue eyes twinkle, though the wife believes it because of the tears that were once falling down her cheeks. 

The couple rushes over to the young woman and embraces her into their arms. 

“Marinette?” The rock star whispers knowing that no one would dare come near them. 

“I’m fine, I promise.” She replies with an uplifting smile, but the couple knew her long enough to know, that she wasn’t fine. 

“Do you want to go through with the performance?” The wife asks, looking between the singer and rock star, as she is hoping for answers. 

With a deep breath, Marinette--no Reinette, nods. “Thank you for everything, Penny.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, Nettie.” Penny then turns to the crew behind, playfully pretending to work. “Alright, you heard the woman. There will be a concert tonight.” 

The crew burst out cheering. 

Reinette tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and goes to pick up a free-standing microphone. She quickly makes her way over to her guitarist, an old friend. 

“Hey, I was wondering, can you play…” She starts off asking only to be shushed by the guitarist. 

“Say no more, Rein, I got you.” He answers only to then puck a feel of the strings to create the melody of the song. 

Reinette smiles, but even he knew that it was fake. 

“Thank you.” With a friendly kiss on the cheek, she walks away to prep for her performance. 

It was long until Reinette enters the stages. 

Standing tall amongst all her fans, she brings the microphone to her lips. 

“Thank you all for coming. For those who have been following my journey to frame over the years, all know that this is the hardest time of my life. So, to start this off, with what started all of this.” Reinette speaks with a sincerest that her real fan had fallen in love with. 

“You promise the world and I fell for it…” As the words left her lips, Reinette could feel the familiar tug of forgotten memories. The pain, her suffering, the betrayal, all wash over her as she continues to sing. “I put you first and you adored it.” 

Five years ago, not a lot of time has passed since then. She remembers the feeling of being elected as the class representative ending the reign of Chloe Bougious. Making clothes, presents, banners, and even baked goods all for her friends at the time. Those were the days. Of laughter, of fun, no selfless act can beat.

“Set fires to my forest and you let it burn.” There were moments. The way her friends reacted to her crush on Adrian. Making her look bad if not worse than what she already was. Back then, those were laughable memories, but now just a painful reminder of her early teen years. 

“Sang off-key in my chorus 'cause it wasn't yours.” She never asked for anything in return, just their friendship and they took advantage of that. Advantage of her generosity her personality under the influence that it would help her succeed. Yes, at the beginning she may have abandoned them with her duties for Ladybug duties, nothing more than that. 

“I saw the signs and I ignored it. Rose-colored glasses all distorted.” She wishes she had seen the signs long before Lila came along. The expectation of her to do something. Mlle. Bustier asking for her to be the example. To be the leader when she wasn’t ready. She did so much for them. It only clicked when she opened her eyes and saw them for who they truly were. Childhood friends mean nothing to them as long as they receive a prize at the end. 

“Set fire to my purpose and I let it burn. You got off on the hurtin' when it wasn't yours, yeah,” They broke her nearly beyond repair. Made her question her existence. The fire became ablaze when her parents gotten involved. Not trusting their daughter, someone they raised over a psychopathic liar. They supported her, crazy ideas and all until that point only to question soon after. Nothing in that household felt the same. The fresh bake goods lost it luster. The business boomed only to slow down. They blamed it all on her. 

“We'd always go into it blindly. I needed to lose you to find me.” And lose them she did. Her parents, her classmates, they all had to go. It was toxic and no matter what people told her, she never looked back. Finding comfort in the man that made her an honorary niece, comfort in the friends--Luka, Kagami, Marc, and Aurore--she found the strength to be herself. Forgoing fashion designing as her career of choice. Becoming the psychologist, she wanted to be.  

“This dance, it was killing me softly. I needed to hate you to love me, yeah.” It took her years to find that strength. A multitude of therapy sessions. Various amount of covers to express herself. For the first time, she let out all the anguish she carried. The emotions she had packed up in fear of being akumatized. Nothing prepared her allies for the emotional breakdown. 

“To love, love, yeah. To love, love, yeah. To love, yeah. I needed to lose you to love me, yeah.” Opening her eyes, she can see the smiles of her friends fade away into terrifying smirks only to be blown away by the light. She repeats the lines one more time. A small smile sneaks up onto her lips. Her voice slowly becomes stronger, but it still holds it’s soft tone. However, a memory that she had long forgot tugs to the forefront of her mind. 

“I gave my all and they all know it.” It was when the lies that Lila was spurring became too much. This wasn’t like the time she was nearly expelled, no, this was much worst. It’s what finally broke the spell that Adrien had over her. Adrien Agreste, a simple rich-boy with no sense of a dangerous situation. He had been her hold, the person she could rely on. 

“Then you tore me down and now it's showing.” He hadn’t been the one to tear her down, it was the boy’s father that had done it, instead. Lila had used one her designs and gave it to the older Agreste, who then blacklist the younger designer. Adrien didn’t say a word, how could he. The one person who had been her rock finally shatters in a million pieces. 

“In two months, you replaced us. Like it was easy.” They had replaced her with Lila, as their everyday Ladybug and honest friend. She will never forgive them for that. At first, it was fine, but now it was a lost cause. 

“Made me think I deserved it. In the thick of healing, yeah.” Reinette could feel the tears trickling down her cheeks. The memories tied to this song always does that. From the good to the bad, and the ugly. Her only solstice is that of those that had supported her.

The closer she came to the of the song, that smile that had been hidden for far too long, slowly creeps onto her face. She turns to the guitarist; he’s smiling at her as if she should make a statement. Allowing the stress, the pain, and the sadness be lifted off her shoulders, her voice echoes through the speakers. 

“And now the chapter is closed and done.” She looks at the crowd before her. Everyone holding each other trying not to cry. Some waves their phones in the air creating a lighting effect that she has seen repeatedly. These are the people that help her grow stronger, stuck with her through thick and thin. 

“To love, love, yeah. To love, love, yeah. To love, yeah.” Let her message run deeper than any has done for her. Creating Reinette was the best choice she has ever made. Others would say Ladybug has made her stronger, but no, Reinette was the one who truly did it. Wallowing in the past has made her weak but it has made her stronger in the long run. It was time for her to close this chapter and move on. 

“And now it's goodbye, it's goodbye for us.” To Alya, to her parents, to Lila, to her peers that long have forgotten her, this is goodbye. Goodbye to the pain she has endured. Goodbye to the hard work she has done to prove herself to them. No more. 

Standing strong against her audience, applauses rings throughout the venue. Reinette swallows the bile that had built up in her throat. The butterflies in her stomach slowly dissipating. The applauses rings in her ears that she barely heard Jagged Stone walking up behind her. He places a firm hand on her shoulder. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Reinette!” His voice echoes through the speakers causing another round of applause.  

Reinette bows to her audience, pushing back of strand of hair that had fallen from her ponytail. Standing tall and with the mic closer to her mouth, she thanks the crowd for everything. 

[niaxbts]

Change Your First Love  Namjoon & Yoongi

Chapter 3

Pairing: Namjoon x Yoongi X Reader

Summary: One day your friend Jungkook invites you to a bar where that night two of his best friends will act, which will happen if they can not let you go.

-Do you never tire of him, Arlet?

- Constantly Do you want to change your life? I go up on stage and you go to work with him.

- Are you good at rapping? -He looks at me impressed.

- Well, the truth is that I would say that I am not bad at all and so I can give free rein to my wonderful musical imagination.

I pretend to make rapper gestures comically as I start to say the verses of my favorite song.

- Wow, I really didn't expect this from you, you have quite a good musical taste . -Smiles at me and stands up.

While I turn around looking at everything and seriously I say: - I love this environment, although it cannot be denied that it imposes enough, this little tension that exists before going on stage is why it is worth living, it is exciting. You understand what I want to refer to, don't you? That adrenaline is the best feeling.

Jungkook looks at me in surprise while Namjoon nods, has understood what I was trying to explain.

- Of course I feel it, whenever I find myself composing since I remember various experiences or when I am about to go out on stage in front of all those people, that great feeling of adrenaline runs through me, it is a feeling that makes you feel alive.

It really makes me a little envious, I wish I could be in his place again, I know how he feels and I miss him a lot. Hopefully you will be back on stage in front of an audience that really enjoys what you believe and ignore those who criticize you since you have the support of those who truly appreciate and love you. Namjoon and Jungkook leave the room in silence again and I start snooping through it, not every day you can be in a room full of instruments that remind you of your childhood and adolescence, they were always with me in difficult times and it's a nice memory. Many times I miss that feeling that the music I composed and played every day caused me to divert attention from criticism.

The stage is still deserted except for some instruments that were already installed and the microphones, contemplating the stage comes the memory of when I went up to it with the lights focused on me during my performances, I want to feel that adrenaline, those nerves, people again supporting you and that feeling of liberation when enjoying, sharing your music.

The music many times surpasses the love that a person can feel, none of my previous partners has managed to make that emotion return like when he played the piano.

In front of me I find a box and I'm going to open it in case I can help by finishing putting some things missing for the performance, inside it I find a lot of notebooks and when I go to take one to see what they are about, it takes me away from there quite hard, my back hits the wall that was quite close and Namjoon's notebook escapes from my hands falling on the floor, making the sound resonate throughout the room due to the great silence that had been created a few minutes ago. , a hand is holding mine and a silhouette rises in front of me, I cannot distinguish him because of the low light in the room, his face is hidden but his black hair and eyes with a furious shine make him stand out in the living room.

My body does not respond, I know that nothing bad can happen to me in that room. What's wrong with this boy? his fingers tighten my wrist and he approaches my height, in his steps you can see his anger. My heart is racing, his face is so close to mine that now I can see his eyes perfectly, and I lose myself in them for a few seconds, little by little it makes me feel more nervous. His knee slides between my legs and he puts an arm over my head. I feel how his fury runs through his body, it is a strange feeling, how can a look like that affect me so much? I come out of my little trance when noticing his face very close to mine, my heart does not stop pumping in such a strong way that I feel as if the heart is going to escape from the chest. How can a boy in just seconds provoke this sensation in me? I find it hard to breathe, my mind is blank I can't think of anything. Suddenly a rather forced smile appears on his lips. I try to say something to apologize but he cuts me off:

- Are you lost? - His voice is hoarse and deep, I look him in the eye and it disturbs me, his contact against me arouses many sensations. Why is he so angry, he was just looking at the contents of the boxes.

- N ... Not me ... You're hurting me a little ...

- Well, it doesn't seem like it.

His lips stretch into a smile, his mouth comes dangerously close to my lips, but a noise sounds in the room and makes him separate from me, but without releasing my hand. The boys when they see us, stay still but Namjoon jumps:

- Hey! What are you doing? She is not one of our fans so drop her, she comes along with Jungkook to see the concert and she is a great friend of hers.

They approach us.

- Yoongi has come with me, she is a friend of mine.

Jungkook says and the one who seems to be supposedly Yoongi ignores them, doesn't look at them, is totally focused on me, doesn't let go of me and says:

- Even if it is your friend or any of your friends that you have every two by three, it should not be here, especially if you start gossiping things that do not belong to you.

I feel ashamed, I just want to hide anywhere else away from this idiot, I feel so insulted, I have left like a wet panties in front of them, like I'm a GROUPIE What a jerk!

- I was waiting for Jungkook and Namjoon to come back while they collected some things outside and I was only taking care of things for your friend.

I point to the open notebook on the floor, Yoongi looks down at where I point and when he looks at me again he scans me, I feel naked under his gaze.

- I see you can take good care of my friend Namjoon's things. -He says with enough sarcasm in his voice.

- It was you who gave me a scare and you grabbed my hand.

I look for Namjoon to help me.

- So she's not a fan?

Finally he releases my hand and moves away from my body, but he doesn't stop looking at me and smiling. Now I can see him better, not only is he handsome, he gives off an aura that attracts me to him. Her black hair frames her face that looks as white as porcelain, her lips are appetizing. I quickly take my eyes off him, it is clear that he knows what provokes women. He turns around and takes the box from Namjoon's hands and says curtly:

- I don't want to see her again here.

The door closes and I think "I'm going to kill him slowly" is an asshole. Namjoon sighs, I don't know what to do I feel very confused and Jungkook approaches me, I don't understand why he was so angry if he wasn't doing anything wrong. It's just a box with old notebooks ...

[ljandersen]

Damsel in Distress

Pairing:  FemShep/Kaidan Alenko, Mass Effect 3

Summary:  Celebrating the victory on Rannoch, Shepard has too much to drink.  Not everyone aboard has Shepard’s best interests at heart.  Someone sees opportunity.

~*~*~

Shepard teetered to her feet and braced a hand on the card table.  “Whoever said you couldn’t fight a reaper mono a mono?  Answer’s Kaidan, by the way.”  She threw back the shot.  “Salud!”

The portside lounge was overcrowded, full of booze and celebration.  Most of the senior crew were here.  Orbiting Rannoch, finishing up peace talks, it was nice having something worth toasting.  The geth and quarian were on the same side for the first time.  She didn’t want to think about the sacrifice to get there.  That was for another time.  Tonight, light years from a port, it was shore leave without leaving for shore.  Well earned.  Needed.  Granted, some responsible parties still held the reins upstairs.

“Haha!  You’re learning, Lola.”  James reached over the card table and clinked Shepard’s glass.  “Salud!” 

“Is it normal for a military vessel to carry this much alcohol?”  Liara hovered over the card table.

Most of the partiers buzzed around the bar across the room.  Others lounged over the furniture and crowded by the door toasting and talking over each other.  Only a few were willing to go head to head with James at the card table: Garrus, Tali, Kaidan, Dr. Chakwas, and Shepard herself.  Dr. Chakwas was a card shark, but a sleeping one at this point.  She rested her face in the crook of her elbow breathing in a steady snore. 

Tali looked up at Liara.   “This is a special – hic hic.”  Tali put a hand to her chest.  “Special – hic – Special occasion.” 

James laughed and pointed at Kaidan.  Kaidan sat at Tali's side.  “Got your work cut out for you, Major.  Your student’s about to fall off her chair.”

“We’re hustling you.”  Kaidan folded his arms and tipped back in his chair.  “Your call, Vega.”

Behind her, Joker and EDI sat on the couch rewatching footage from Rannoch.  Adams regaled Cortez, Donnelly, and Daniel with the genius of the quarian fusion generator he’d seen on the flotilla tour.  No one looked as interested as Adams himself, who offered up his own questions in a rhetorical fashion and then answered them.  

It made Shepard smile seeing them all cut loose for a while.  A little unconventional, maybe rebellious, but they had forty-eight hours of hang time until the quarian and geth finished up talks.  The navigator had the bridge covered.  Who knew when they’d be in port again?  By that time, there could be more losses than wins fueling the tab.  Shepard wobbled down onto her chair.

“Read ‘em and weep, Sparks.”  James spread his cards on the stable.  “Straight.”

Garrus threw his cards on the table.  “Every time.”

“Eh, I knew you had nothing, Scars.”  James didn’t spare him a glance.  He leaned forward, his eyes on Tali.  “Well?  Gotta show ‘em some time.  Don’t let your Jedi master use the hood of your suit for wiping his tears.”

Kaidan rolled his eyes and tipping back further in his chair.  “Go ahead, Tali.”

Tali held the cards close to her mask.  She looked between them and James’s straight laying on the table.

“Hmm.  Can’t tell.”  Tali put an elbow on the table, maybe to steady her wavering cards.  “Just can’t – hic – tell.”

“You don’t need to tell,” James said.  “Time for figuring it out is over.  I called.  Now it’s time to show.  You teaching her nothing over there, Major?”

“She’s beaten you a few times,” Kaidan said.

“Luck.  Come on, Sparks.  Lay ‘em down.”

Tali snapped one card down at a time and pulled her hands back.  James stood and squinted at them.

“That is higher?”  Tali tapped a card.

“Dammit!  No way. How with the --Then the -- Holy damn.”  James plopped down in his chair.  “You were twisting the fabric on your suit.  The left wrist.”

Tali turned to Kaidan.  “Fell for it.  Hic.”

“What?” James said.  “Alenko’s red herring deal?  Dammit.  Major, you got to keep some tricks in your own bag.  You want to be writing your paycheck to me and Tali.  Do not let the student surpass the master: Poker by Vega 101.”

“A class with that philosophy isn't worth the tuition.” Kaidan got to his feet.  He put a hand on Tali’s shoulder.  “Let me get it.”

“You just – hic – I didn’t knock over – hic – that much last time.”

“All quarians get this hiccupping?”  Garrus craned his head and looked at Tali over Kaidan’s arms.

“Quite normal,” Dr. Chakwas said.  Shepard jumped.  Dr. Chakwas lifted her face from the crook of her elbow and yawned.  “Quarians have tender digestive systems when it comes to ethanol.  Not uncommon to have a little intestinal rebellion.  Where are my chips?”

“Dr. Chakwas.”  EDI came to the table.  “As you were incognizant, it was suggested your chips be exchanged for digital credits.  I have made a direct deposit into the account specified on your Alliance paystub.”

“You can see our paystubs?” Traynor turned from the group at the bar. 

“I have access to all Alliance accounts.  This information is confidential.”

Joker slouched back on the couch with a sigh.  “I’ve tried getting her to tell me how much Kaidan makes.  She won’t.”  He caught Kaidan’s sharp frown.  “What?  Just curious.  Shepard’s CO of a starship, but you’ve got the lapel chits.  Who wouldn’t want to know?  Right?  James?”

“Whoa.  Ha.  I’m not getting into that.”

“Liara,” Joker waved at her, “you’re academic.  Don’t you – Oh.  Wait.  You probably already know.”

“I do.”  Liara strolled to the bar.  “Speak to one of my brokers with five thousand credits ready, and we can talk.”

“What?  No favors?  You all forgot my birthday this year, by the way.  Not even a card.”

Shepard rested her forehead on the table.  Legion should be here.  She pulled her mind away from that trail.  No, it was a good day.  If she didn’t focus on the positives … She didn’t want to think about where that would go either.  Shepard toyed with the refilled shot by her face.

“Salud!”  She raised the glass then dribbled it into her mouth.

~*~*~

Shepard lurched upright in her chair.  A card fluttered off the sticky skin of her forehead.  She was still in the portside lounge.  Dr. Chakwas snored softly with her cheek against the table.  James slumped in his chair with closed eyes and an open mouth.  Garrus was sleeping facedown in the center of the card table, fully stretched in a chalk outline of poker chips.  She looked forward to hearing that story.  

Bodies lay across the furniture or on the floor slouched against the wall.  Donnelly looked particularly uncomfortable, folded like an accordion in the crevice between the couch and wall.

“Commander Shepard.”  EDI glided from her statured pose against the wall.

“We weren’t drugged, were we?”  Shepard laughed into the back of her hand.  The room sloshed around her with her wave of laughter. 

“Ethanol poisoning can be a serious medical condition,” EDI said, “but I do not detect levels near the threshold needed for lethality.”

“Guess that’s good.”  Shepard stood.  She stumbled forward and caught herself on EDI shoulder.  She gazed around them.  “Where, uh – they’re all here?  No.  Wait.  Who’s missing?  Don’t tell me. It’s Waldo again.”

“We do not have a crew member by the legal registered name of Waldo.  Is this colloquial for a more formalized version of another name?”

“You mean, like EDI is?”

“That is a correct example.”

Shepard patted EDI’s shoulder then used her as leverage to search the floor.  She found her comm halfway under the table and popped it into her ear.

“If you are still interested in the results of your earlier inquiry, I can update you on crew location throughout the ship.  For instance, Major Alenko –”

“Oh, yeah.  Right, right.”  Shepard wobbled around to face the table.  His chair was empty.  “Where’d he go?”

“Major Alenko is in engineering.”

“Huh?”  Shepard staggered across the room, bumping into chairs, and tripping over empty cups.  “Good night, EDI.”

In the elevator, Shepard swayed on her feet staring at the buttons.  Her cabin sounded good.  Engineering sounded better.  She punched it.  She had to check on her crew after all.  She’d just taken inventory of all her senior staff members minus one.  The elevator stopped, and she tumbled out.  The buzz of a hovercam made her look up.

“Commander!  Excellent timing.”  Allers’s stilettos clicked across the floor from her studio.  “Viewers were enthralled with footage of you taking down the reaper.  I’d love some live Q and A.”

“Oh.  Of course, of course.”  Shepard tugged on her uniform and tried to stand tall.  The floor kept moving, so it was harder than she remembered.

“Excellent.”  Allers clapped her hands and rushed to Shepard’s side.  “Any questions off limits?  Viewers like candor though.  Transparency.  Raw reactions.  Maybe some, uh, personal questions?  Just a few?”

“Give the viewers what they want.”  Shepard focused on the bot overhead.  It kept going in and out of focus.  Damn thing.  “I look at the lens, right?  No changes?”

“No changes.”  Allers clicked a button on her microphone and turned to the camera.  “Welcome to a live impromptu question and answer session with Commander Shepard aboard the SSV Normandy.  We have unrestricted access to discuss the now-infamous reaper takedown on Rannoch: Commander Shepard on foot, staring into the eye of annihilation.  We’ll discuss the liberation of Rannoch and the tenuous peace between machine and master.   Commander Shepard has also agreed to open up about her childhood, life on Mindoir before the attack, time in foster care, and the devastating massacre on Akuze.  Welcome, Commander.”

Shepard gripped Allers’s arm to steady herself.  The microphone filled her face.  “This is Commander Shepard.”

“Uh, indeed.”  Allers pulled the microphone back.  “Let’s start at the beginning.  Mindoir.  Your parents.  You had extended family there.  Tell us about them.  What was life like?”

“Mindoir?”  Shepard scrunched her face.  “Well, uh – I guess.  Got some photos.”  She fumbled with her Omni-Tool.

“Excellent.”  Allers’s eyes glowed.  She looked over Shepard’s shoulder at the screen and waved the camera bot closer.  “Perhaps a family picture?  Your parents and –”

“Commander,” a male voice snapped.  “Alliance Command is on the comm for you.”

Allers’s mouth tightened.  She forced the corners up with a perky warble in her voice.  “Ah.  Humanity’s other Spectre.  Major Alenko.  Perhaps you can—”

“An emergency, Commander.  You’re needed right away.”

A hand grabbed Shepard’s wrist.  He spun her around to face him.  Her Omni-Tool screen dropped.

“I almost found it,” Shepard huffed.  “There’s an emergency?”

Kaidan gave her a pointed look.  “Alliance Command.  Immediately.”

“Just one question.”  Allers elbowed between them and faced Shepard.  “When Mindoir was—”

“I should go.  Emergency.”  Shepard decided.

Allers frowned.  “Can we just see that photo?”

“This way, Commander.”  Kaidan yanked her away.  They rounded the corner into the main engine room and shut the door.

“Kinda loud in here.”  Shepard clutched his arm.  “Why’s the floor like this?  Moving.  Is that the emergency?”

“I got you out of the emergency.”

“Alliance Command though …”

“Bluffing.”

“Oh.” 

Shepard’s legs gave way.  She slipped, and Kaidan caught her under the arms. 

“I can tell when you’re bluffing, you know.”  She tapped his chest with a finger.

“I know.  Why do you think I offered to teach Tali instead of playing?”

“You smell good.”

“Thanks.”

He helped her to the floor.  “Guess I should’ve put you in the elevator, not dragged you back here.  Allers’s probably circling the door now.  You want me to get you to your cabin?”

“What?  No, this is good.  I kind of like the way my skin feels in here.  Eezo.”

Kaidan slid down next to her but left open space between them.  He wasn’t going to be able to hear her from there though.  Shepard scooted over.

“Whatcha doing down here?” she asked.

“Aah.  Not in my ear.”

“So loud down here though.”

“I can hear you.  Doesn’t need to be in my ear.”  He laughed but scooted over a space.  “Why am I down here?  Because all your engineers are blowing bubbles against the carpet upstairs.  Came down to check on things.”

“Why aren’t you blowing bubbles?  And why won’t you sit by me?”

“At least one experienced officer should be sober.  Consider me the designated driver.”

“And?”

“And, I saw where things were going with the drinks, so I only dabbled.”

“Not that.  The other question.”

“Any closer, you’d be sitting on me, Shepard.”

“Not true.”  Shepard shuffled up against him.  Their arms stuck together.  “Ha.  See.”

“Drunk Shepard doesn’t have a personal bubble, hm?”

“Nope.  I’d rather sit close.”  She tipped her head against his shoulder and pulled up her Omni-Tool screen.  “That’s my dad.”  She raised her wrist to his face.

He pulled her hand down and turned off the screen.

“I was trying to show you something,” Shepard protested.

“You’re drunk.  You want to show me that, show it to me when you’re sober.”

Shepard relaxed her muscles and slouched against him.  She tapped the picture up again on her Omni-Tool and studied it in her lap.  “I miss him.  Sometimes when I wake up in a sky car – it’s going fast, up and down, jerky turns – sometimes, before my eyes clear, I think he’s there.  In the pilot’s seat.  He’ll tell me he was dodging a flock of gavas, but I’ll know that’s a lie.  We’re close to home, and he wanted to wake me up.”

Kaidan unstuck their arms and slid his arm around her shoulders. He didn’t say anything, just squeezed her arm.

“You were right about the thresher maw.”  She rested her cheek against his chest.  “On Tuchanka.  The ground rumbles, and I remember.  Killed so many of them now.  I think, if only I knew then what I know now, how to do it, if I could go back …”  Her finger circled a spot on his chest by her face.

“Shepard.”  He caught her hand.  He curled it back to her lap.  “Don’t let what Allers said get under your skin.”

Shepard drew in a deep breath of his aftershave.  His chest was warm under her cheek.  It felt like old times in some ways, except for this damn uniform in her way.  She wanted the smooth skin of his chest against her face, wanted him to quiver when she pressed her lips to it.  She wanted to hook him by the back of the neck and drag him to her lips. 

She lifted her eyes.  “Kaidan, I never told you, but –”

“No, Shepard.  Unless it’s a knock-knock joke, I don’t want to hear it.  Whatever it is.  Not like this.”

“Just one thing I wanted to –”

“Come on.”  Kaidan lifted her to her feet.  “Let’s go.  I’ll check for Allers.”

Shepard tripped along behind him holding the sleeve of his shirt.  “I kept thinking as we played cards.  You know, I should stop.  Last one, last one.  I think I had too much.”

Kaidan peered around the corner toward the elevator then guided Shepard ahead of him.  The elevator doors opened.  He pushed the button for her cabin and stepped back.

“Kaidan, come with me.”  Shepard put a hand out.

Kaidan folded his arms.  “Night, Shepard.”

The doors slid shut.  Shepard slouched back against the wall.  He smelled so good.

~*~*~

From “About Mars”:

AO3:  https://archiveofourown.org/works/21369139/chapters/52243954

FFN:  https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13428855/1/About-Mars-Mass-Effect

[fmdtaeyongarchive]

↬ what scene will you be?

date: early 2017 / january 2020 / august 2020.

location: some random apartment / ash’s home studio.

word count: 1,875 words, not including lyrics.

summary: n/a.

triggers: passing mention of alcohol.

notes: creative claims verification. mentions of youngjoo 🥴 but in the least angsty context yet! some parts in the middle are repurposed from a defunct verification.

early 2017.

the concept of the song first comes to him early in his relationship with youngjoo. there’s something about the beginning of a new relationship that never fails to bring out inspiration for a flood of love songs from the depths of ash’s mind, and youngjoo is the perfect muse for his poetry in the midst of the fluttery, dreamy feeling of their honeymoon phase.

they’re watching a film, a surprise date night planned out by ash that had involved talking a senior friend into letting him have his apartment for a few hours that evening (which, he’d like to note, had been incredibly hard to do when he couldn’t explain why he needed it). he’d set up a projector in the living room and a film he knew she liked and he’d gotten an expert opinion on a good wine pairing for the dinner he’d made.

it’s strange, dating youngjoo, but it has nothing to do with discomfort in his feelings for her. she’s youngjoo. smart, successful, talented, kind, interesting in a way that keeps him captivated from the moment she walks into a room, and gorgeous in a way ash hadn’t been able to ignore even when friendship had been all there was between them. he could listen to her talk for hours about anything in the world, and he wishes he had the time to do just that. she’s every color in the world and ones that haven’t been discovered yet, and he watches her more than he watches the movie. 

every time a slight smile curves on her lips, his heart beats faster and he swears goosebumps raise little peaks on his skin.

the greatest film on earth couldn’t possibly compare to an evening spent in youngjoo’s presence. given the chance to own all of the greatest art in history, he’d reject it if he could spend evening upon evening with youngjoo by his side instead.

he loves her.

he hasn’t told her yet. it feels too early, but he knows he does. there’s no other way to describe the elation that fills him at the mere thought of seeing her or the fact that she’s his last thought every night before he tries to sleep.

he writes the chorus in his mind as he sneaks glances at her, and he puts it down onto paper that night after returning to knight’s dorm, a rare smile on his face and the feeling of their kiss goodbye lingering on his lips.

january 2020.

the song had been abandoned in ash’s files after he’d broken up with youngjoo, deemed unlikely to ever be dug out again.

he finds it again on an old hard drive he digs out from a box he still hasn’t unpacked after coming home from another meeting with bc about the singles he’d be releasing throughout the year.

these kinds of meetings with this frequency had only become common in the lead up to fatalism. he hadn’t had so many meetings for daydream, he’s sure, but then again, he’d put a halt to all of those when he’d injured his ankle that year. he can’t quite remember the frequency of meetings for i’m young, but that had been his first album and his first chance to prove himself. by now, bc and the other producers should have more faith in him than they seem to.

they’d talked again about image. sexy had been their plan for fatalism, but it hadn’t been the success they’d wanted and ash is known for his heartbreak ballads after the success of “untitled, 2014”, not to mention “d (half moon)” outcharting anything that could be considered sexy on his last album. it’d be terrible business practice to abandon that entirely for a new image that ash had been pulled into simply because sexy performance soloist is currently a less competitive market than acoustic love song ballad singer-songwriter. there are so many of those, but the performance soloist category is more dominated by female soloists these days, so by growing his image, they could assure ash is able to become a household name instead of just another disposable singer, they’d said. the company wants to bring in the kind of brand ambassador money that comes with standing out instead of blending in. with the way he works day and night at events that drain him of every last ounce of social energy to please brands, ash would think they’d be happy with his current status, but it’s a mistake to think a company can ever be satisfied in their greed. ash doesn’t want to care, but he can’t help but feel a little prideful that they’d apparently been wrong... if he ignores the success “troublemaker” and “now” had had last year.

it’s been a couple of months now since ash had had to fight for his own input for the album concept. some of the tension in the reins has been slackened in response to romanticism not being the smash hit they’d wanted. ash is still struggling to pull himself out of the mindset he’d had to live in for fatalism, though, and it’s rare something entirely fresh comes to him.

this isn’t fresh either, technically. it’s nearly three years old and based on feelings long past, but as he listens to the track, he’s struck with the feeling he’d been onto something and he saves it to the computer in his studio to come back to before checking that his schedule is clear for some time, so he can and hole himself up in his studio with some hope of being able to work uninterrupted. 

this isn’t going to be the song he’s supposed to be working on. maybe it could work for his spring single, but that seems far-off now.

he sets to work and the song soon expands its references to a lover as a film he can’t take his eyes off of. he hadn’t latched on to the initial metaphor too deeply when he’d first heard it since the memory that had inspired it is so far in the past now, but the feelings that start to crawl their way out of him so naturally keep the idea from going entirely neglected. more than the lyrics, he focuses on what to do with the instrumental. the original draft had been simple in melody, acoustic and sweet, like a lot of his music had been when he’d only been in the beginnings of creating anything good enough to win bc’s approval. (it’s bitterly funny how that’s a battle he’s still fighting in spite of his style changing so much since then.) now, a more refined composer and producer, ash switches up the style entirely to something more unconventional and syncopated and in a style he’s wanted to try but has never gotten the chance to up until now. 

it’s upbeat enough to be make bc happy with the possibility of a more choreographed stage (though, in ash’s opinion, it’d be a good song to stand and sing on stage with only a microphone stand and background projections), but in a way that’s not shoe-horned in for the sake of achieving what anyone else wants. he’s written so much heavy music lately, weighed down by angst or lust or anger or resentment, but this is pure. not pure in the way he would have thought to make it three years ago, but it’s love re-invented, taken from a confessional letter to a musical story of a man he doesn’t entirely identify with anymore.

it’s a project he spreads out over a few weeks, coming back to it whenever he wants to play around with something exciting instead of nailing himself down to another song that’s too much like something he’s made or heard before. as more work comes in with deadlines, at some point in the working process, he abandons it. be it fun to work on or not, he’s a seasoned professional now and it’s more critical to meet deadlines than finish some conceptual track that probably won’t even be used.

august 2020.

months later, ash is more focused on the creation of his next album than anything else. it’s been pushed back once already and every time he tries to make something new, it comes out the same: an alternative r&b track and heartbreak or longing. he’s getting nowhere, so, one day in his studio, he re-opens that “concept track” he’d left to the dust and spiderwebs months earlier. he already knows precisely what he needs from it.

he has a vision for the full song now. it should be the sound of a relationship that’s still passionate and hesitant like early love so often is. a movie that draws in the eye and the ear and the mind from the very beginning, but as it progresses, it turns inward.

if a lover feels like every great film every written, how long can it last before you’re left questioning how that’s something you deserve? if a lover is every color in the world, how do you ever know what their true colors toward you are?

when he’d first begun writing the lyrics, it’d been so hopeful, but he knows now where that hope had led him.

the song isn’t meant to be dark, so he keeps the wonderous tone, letting the worry set in only as the song leads itself out.

what scene will you be? some day, will our story be told by others? who will be the next lead? what if i’m just a cameo? should i just sit in my seat? 

all that the song really needs now is some additional production work from him and it could be submitted to be slotted into his new album. it’s different in tone from everything he’s submitted so far, but that could be exactly what the album needs that it’s evidently so direly missing to be truly complete. 

he sets to work recording final vocal tracks for the song, or what will be final unless it’s approved and bc sends him in for a cleaner take. he keeps his delivery light and entranced, like he’s whispering to himself out of fear of being overheard. the more he tries to connect to the song, the more he realizes how hard it is to do so without thinking of youngjoo. it’s so uniquely her. or rather, uniquely him when it comes to her. the feeling of someone entrancing him so completely, like someone he isn’t deserving of experiencing, is one that he’s never felt in the exact way the lyrics and music convey with anyone else.

so, he lets himself think of her, of their past and their present and how fleeting any moment in time has ever been between them, if only for the sake of getting a successful recording.

the ending of the song hits a little too strongly when he does that and his delivery becomes more rushed, barely keeping in time with the beat as the questions rush out of his mouth. he takes a break and stops himself from getting too deep into the insecurity he’s trapping himself into needing to access.

he considers changing the end of the song, but he can’t imagine it ending any other way. that’s the story that has to be told and he needs to tell it, even if it all hits closer to home even now than he’d like to admit.

[chilly-me-softly]

Too Young • Giovani Lo Celso

Borrowed Too Young by Louis Tomlinson for this actually I could write something for every single song in that album, had the idea for so long now and hope you like it x 

"And now with her brand new single from the album coming out next week, (Y/N)!" Gio settles better on the couch, the phone forgotten almost immediately next to him just hearing her name. He didn't know she would be a guest of the award show, he had left that channel just because he hadn't found anything else so interesting and in the meantime he was wasting time on the phone.

Silence descended in the auditorium as a light hit her on stage, sitting on a stool strumming her guitar. The boy had read somewhere the new album would be entirely written by her, that she felt much more mature and confident to do it and he could only be proud of it. He was the first one to push her down that road after all, giving her her his first notepad, and she promised him that one day she would write something for him. Not silly verses that just made him laugh, but an actual song. And even though things hadn't evolved in their favour, he kept following her career because she was and is very talented and deserves all the success she's having all over the world.

The guitar was a good choice too, she always called it her life partner. That instrument keeps her safe from people's glances, so it was only fair that she shared the stage with it for her author's debut.

The first notes of the song start to echo from the television and a close-up on the girl's face makes him almost open-mouthed. She looks really beautiful that night, with that blue shirt that falls softly on her body and those heels he's almost sure she wore just because she would have been sitting for the performance.

We were too young To know we had everything Too young I wish I could've seen it all along I'm sorry that I hurt you, darling, no We were too young

Her voice is soft and delicate through the microphone, an excited expression on her face as always when she performs and also tense for fear of making mistakes. But no doubt what prevails is the emotion as he listens and looks carefully to everything.

I've been looking back a lot lately My and you is all I've ever known It's hard to think you could ever hate me But everything's feeling different now

There's something about it that won't let him take his eyes off the screen. A voice that echoes deep inside his head to which he doesn't want to give free rein. He doesn't want to listen to it, because he knows he'd have more than valid reasons to believe what he's thinking.

Oh, I can't believe I gave into the pressure When they said a love like this would never last So I cut you off 'cause I didn't know no better Now I realize, yeah, I realize

We were too young…

The chorus starts again and the camera cuts through some people around there who have signs for their favorite singer before returning to her. The fingers move expertly on the strings of the guitar and he can't hold back the memories. If he could, it would have been easier even years earlier. Scenes of the last time they saw each other as a couple fill his mind, when he smiled happily watching her strumming that guitar - which he refuses to believe is still the same by the way - and he still didn't know it would be the last moments they spent together.

Both of them were eighteen, he was wanted by some club overseas she was gaining more and more notoriety as a singer. The pressure was high. She didn't want to miss that opportunity, everyone seemed to want her as a guest to meet the star of the moment and it would be complicated and difficult to arrange their careers to spend time together. So she cut him out of her life, thinking it was the right thing to do in spite of everything. No hard feelings though, they both kept cheering for each other in silence. Hardly anyone knew about their relationship when they weren't someone yet, so it all seemed like a secret to share and treasure forever.

Face to face at the kitchen table This is everything I've waited for Now we can finally have a conversation That I wish we could've had before

As time went by, they both realized maybe that was the right decision. If it hadn't been made at that time, they probably would have ended up bringing that thing back and forth forever and then cheating on each other and finding out about it through some newspaper. And that's when they would have ruined everything they had built.

It was hard and painful, you never forget your first love after all. But they had no trouble admitting it, sitting across from each other when they met again one day. She had actually surprised him, she had known he had signed a contract with a team in London and she had been living there for some time and what better occasion to meet again.

Their eyes had looked for each other, several genuine smiles had been exchanged as they caught up on this and that. They had laughed and joked like in the old days, clarified many things and a lot of things made more sense now. Bitter smiles at the thought of what their life could have been like if... as if, yeah. They had fixed things up thanks to that carefree talk they would have liked to have before, but they were too young and feelings always get the better than mind. It takes time to fully understand a choice for both those who make it and those who suffer it.

It's been two years since I've seen your face Tryna find some better words to say Before I let this moment slip away 'Cause now I realize

And there were so many things she wanted to say at that moment, her head was working at a thousand miles and she was convinced he could see the smoke coming out of her ears at any moment. But instead in all that confusion inside her mind, she was silent on the outside. Almost making him believe that she no longer cared about him, that she had no arguments to fill the embarrassment building up.

And then that evening the words had spoken to her and she had written as she had never written before in her life. The ink had formed those words one after the other to which she had then added a melody and she had never been so nervous and excited to hear a track in her entire life. Because it was personal, it was hers.

We were too young To know we had everything Too young I wish I could've seen it all along I'm sorry that I hurt you, darling, no We were too young 

And he would understand that after years she had kept her promise.

[another-blog-bites-the-dust]

Not in the script.

Summary: While working alongside Gwilym in 'Hamlet', the final performance has everyone's emotions running high- especially his.

Warnings: swearing, lil bit of angst, fluff, ugh Gwil in period clothing tho 😩🙌

A/N: Okay I'm a sucker for Shakespeare and Gwilym so I combined them together in a Gwilxfem!reader fic. The lines of 'Hamlet' and other plays are in bold italic! I hope you enjoy! 💖

You died in his arms every night and occasionally some afternoons.

Like heaven itself was cradling you, and for your character it was. You were starring in 'Hamlet' playing the title role for the last four months in the west end with an incredible cast. The whole show was dubbed as controversial from the start because Hamlet was going to be played by a woman with everything else, including the pronouns in the script, staying the same. But that's why you and everyone else in the show were so excited to do it. It made the old play fresh and new.

But tonight was the final night and you were all reminiscing of the very first rehearsals before you all headed off to get ready for the last performance. You all started this journey six months ago and it was coming to an end in a matter of hours.

"Remember when Daisy dropped the prop skull when she was taking a look at it on the first day and it shattered everywhere!" You giggled, knees to your chest sipping away at a coffee while sitting next to your Horatio. You didn't know until you turned up to rehearsals that Gwilym Lee was cast as Horatio.

"Ugh that's going to haunt me forever!" Daisy playfully groaned. She was Ophelia and had quickly became a wonderful close friend of yours. "Oh Y/N! Remember you kept accidentally calling Gwilym 'Brian' at the start!" She giggled and you went bright red, Gwilym gently poked your side with a grin on his face.

You could vividly remember the day you stepped into the rehearsal room and gasped when Gwilym came up and shook your hand. You were a huge fan of Queen and Bohemian Rhapsody. "Holy shit! Brian May!" You had said before slapping your head in realisation "No! Gwilym! God! Sorry! You're Gwilym Lee!" Gwilym took it on the chin and laughed about it. In fact, he was rather flattered.

Hugh, who was playing Claudius, clapped his hands together. "Well we better get ready! Final night!" It was bittersweet for you all. But it was going to be especially painful for Gwilym to say goodbye to the show and the cast...and to you. He'd miss you the most. He had spent practically every single day of the last six months with you. Two months rehearsing and then four months performing. He had grown very close to you, especially as your two characters were so close and intimate and emotionally invested in one another. Gwilym found it hard not to fall for you.

"Y/N..." Gwilym gently said you name as he stood, nervously twiddling his fingers.

"Ye-" you were cut off by the sound engineer regarding your troublesome microphone. You turned back to Gwilym "Oh..."

He waved his hands "I'll speak to you after, it's alright. It can wait." He tightly smiled.

You grinned and let out a small sigh of relief. "Thanks, Gwil!" You squeezed his arm and he felt his whole body heat up at the brief contact. Like every other time you touched him or hugged him. He loudly and deeply sighed. Daisy noticed.

"Gwilym...why don't you just tell her already?" She quietly asked. Daisy had noticed for the last few months the tension building between you both. It was confirmed when Gwilym had confessed to her after a few drinks how he really felt about you. The next day he practically begged her to keep it to herself- he didn't want to jeopardise the professionalism between the both of you. "I know she would be over the moon if you told her how you felt."

"It's just so hard to convey into words how much- ugh I can't even do it now!" He ran a hand through his hair "I'll tell her tonight at some point. Tonight's my last chance."

Daisy pointed a finger at him "You better, Lee! And you better treat my beautiful, yet troubled, Hamlet, good!" He chuckled at her words. She smirked to herself "Make tonight count, Gwil. Go get your girl!" They both parted ways when they went to get changed. Where Gwilym's dressing room was meant he always passed yours, your door was shut over but he could see light and shadow seeping out of it at the bottom and he could hear you going over your lines aloud. Gwilym knew you'd probably be in your black dress, the one he could barely take is eyes off of when you wore it in the first few scenes.

He hesitated, bringing his fist up so it was hovering beside your door. But he couldn't chap it. He decided to just get through the final performance and try to keep his untamed feelings reined in for now.

•••

Everyone gathered at the righthand wing of the stage and huddled around. The whole cast was wearing their traditional clothes and you had to physically tear your eyes of Gwilym in his outfit. He always looked so good in it. "Last night everyone!" You ecstatically grinned "Hands in!" Everyone put their hands in the centre, Gwilym's was on top of yours and you swore he gently stroked it before all the the other hands landed on top. You all chanted and pulled back with a cheer.

"Final night- let's smash this!" Harry, who was playing Laertes, roared out and everyone giggled. "Go easy on me tonight, Y/N!" He joked, you knew how much your final fight scene exhausted him despite the many times doing it and the lengthy sword rehearsals before that.

"You don't know how much joy I'm going to get kicking your ass again, Harry. Until you stab me, of course." You playfully jabbed his side and he let out a chuckle. Gwilym tried not to let jealously bubble away inside him, in fact, it melted away when he felt your hands on his lower arms. He glanced up and found you looking at him with a smile. "My darling Horatio," he happily grunted as a response "One final time."

Gwilym nodded "My darling Hamlet." He squeezed your hands. "One final time," you went to walk away but he held onto your hands "Although working with you, Y/N...I feel like this whole experience will never die inside my heart." He whispered and you felt your own flutter and wildly beat as a response.

"Gwilym...that's so lovely of you to say! I've really loved working with you. So much! So, so much." You sent him a toothy smile and he opened his mouth to say something but was called to take his place. "We'll talk after?" You suggested and he nodded, leaning forward and giving you a quick kiss on the forehead. You stood in shock while he dashed off, he had never done that before. But it was the final night and everyone's emotions were running high. At least that was what you told yourself.

You had just finished a scene with Daisy, one where you spun Ophelia in your arms before she gave you a sweet, lovestruck kiss. She made you clutch a flower in your hand before she giddily dashed off after her father, Polonius. When she left, you had to toss away the flower to the side with a sigh and tried to be all melancholy.

That was until Gwilym hesitantly entered onto the stage like he was directed to. He walked over to you, your back facing him before tapping your shoulder. "Hail to your lordship!" He said and you turned around ecstatically gasping with a huge smile on your face. He picked you up in his arms while giving you a huge hug, spinning you one-eighty degrees before putting you down and holding you close.

You placed your hands on his cheeks and Gwilym gulped- like he always did. It was getting worse every single time. All he wanted to do was lean in and kiss you. Tonight he felt himself doing so and almost did until you spoke your line. "I am glad to see you well Horatio, or do I forget myself?"

Gwilym snapped out his little trance "The same, my lord, and your poor servant ever." You scoffed and tapped his cheek and then made the mistake of looking into his eyes. Those deadly eyes. They had put you off and distracted you more times than you knew. A timed clearing throat from Marcellus broke your characters apart from their moment. It was supposed to be intimate but perhaps not that intimate.

You shared a small, unscripted smile with Gwilym before focusing on the scene.

A few scenes later, you were on stage with him again along with Andy who played Marcellus. The three of you had spotted the ghost of your father and you were supposed to follow it but the two boys had to keep you back. Marcellus stood behind Gwilym with his hands held out as if to invisibly push you back while Horatio actually had his hands on you to try and keep you in the one place while you wriggled and writhed to escape and go to the ghost.

You didn't really want to leave Gwilym's hold- you never did. Anyone who wanted to would have been out of their mind. He held you so tenderly and gently but it looked like he was brutally trying to keep you away from the entity.

As an actor, and as just Gwil, he always amazed you.

"It waves me still," you clawed at the air. "Go on; I'll follow thee."

"You shall not go, my lord!" Marcellus warned.

You found yourself almost being picked up by Gwilym you were pushing forward so much. His hand unintentionally moved to the top of the back of your thigh and you jumped a little, sending him a small look as if to say 'That's not meant to be there.' He moved his hand back to your waist, slightly to your dismay. "Hold off your hands!" You said in a demanding tone. Time after time Gwilym almost moaned at that voice.

He looked down at you, he was at a perfect angle to just reach up and let your lips cra- "Be ruled," he said authoritatively and you crashed back into reality "you shall not go."

The scene carried on and after speaking to the ghost of your father, Marcellus and Horatio returned after catching up to you and questioned you about the spirt. You were on your knees staring off passed the heads of those in the audience with glossy eyes. Gwilym kneeled down next to you and tenderly took your hand in his and comfortingly squeezed and stroked it. He didn't used to do that when you first started, it happened over time. It made you wonder if he was acting out his movements or allowed them to flow freely. After a few more seconds of staring you turned to him and managed to let a fake tear fall. He reached up and slowly wiped it away- you could hear sniffles from the audience.

You looked into those delightful, dastardly eyes again, your heart leaping in your chest. His eyes held something a little different in them. There was a twinkle- something you never saw before.

You reached up and placed a hand on his cheek before slightly hunching over while releasing a sigh and then returned to your original position. He moved his hand from your face and placed it on top of yours that was on his cheek- something he hadn't done before. Andy raised a subtle, inconspicuous eyebrow at the interaction. Gwilym noticed your eyebrows creasing ever so slightly but he was too engrossed with you to care. "There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy..." you perfectly recited and Gwilym found himself press his head further into your hand. He loved the contact of your skin on his. You continued on and wrapped up the scene "So, gentlemen," you stood up "With all my love I do commend me to you: And what so poor a man as Hamlet is mat do, to express his love and friending to you, god willing, shall not lack. Let us go in together;" you took Gwilym's and Andy's hand "still your fingers on your lips, I pray." You placed your finger on their lips like you always did. Andy was unfazed by it but it always sent Gwil into overdrive. "The time is out of joint: O cursed spite, that ever I was born to set it right! Nay, come, let's go together." You pulled them off stage with you and then the next scene began. You dusted off your knees with a delighted smile "That was so good!"

Gwilym nodded "One of my favourite scenes...I mean, all of my scenes with you are my favourite." He bashfully confessed and you felt yourself blush, luckily the wings were dimly lit so he didn't really notice. "I've got to get changed," you did too "See you in a bit!" He smiled and headed off to his dressing room.

You let out a small, adoring sigh with a massive grin and then noticed Andy sending you a knowing smirk "Oh be quiet..." you nervously grumbled feeling his teasing glare. He had always asked when you were going to finally bite the bullet and ask Gwilym out. You never found the confidence to. Gwilym was gorgeous and such a sweetheart- he could have any person he wanted.

That's why you always questioned and doubted yourself- Gwilym could have anyone so why would he pick you?

Gwil watched in awe like he always did seeing you perfectly recite the infamous 'To be, or not to be' soliloquy. He quickly brushed away a rouge tear that slipped down his cheek. "She's incredible," he whispered to Daisy who was standing next to him watching, ready to jump on in a moment. She looked between you and Gwilym and fondly smiled at you both before lightly gasping and practically throwing herself on stage, too focused on her two friends who were mad about one another than the scene she was about to act in.

A little while later, everyone was getting ready to watch the reenactment of Hamlet's fathers murder. You called for Horatio and Gwilym walked on stage with a smile on his face "Here, sweet lord, at your service." You gave him a hug and he hesitated to let go.

Placing a hand on his jawline you let out a breathy chortle, then you had to rest your head against his chest while he held you. "Horatio, thou art e'en as just a man as e'er my conversation coped withal."

Gwilym had to act all flustered, but that wasn't an issue with you in his arms and his chin being tickled by your hair. "O, my dear lord..."

You chuckled and pulled back, patting his cheek and pointing at him "Nay, do not think I flatter." You smirked and sent him a wink before continuing on with your lines. Gwilym was helplessly smiling at you, being taken away momentary with your voice saying such poetic things. Continuing on, you all watched the players perform their parts and then the scenes carried on and you eventually, accidentally, killed Polonius.

Then you were sent off to England and a small interval began, giving everyone a little break and time to change. You practically flung on your clothes, the next scene you were in was mainly with Gwilym. You didn't see him again until you met by the wings and wrapped your arms around one of his, holding onto him tightly as you walked into a graveyard together. Your head rested against his bicep and Gwilym wondered if he'd still get the same kind of butterflies if you clutched onto him like that when you weren't performing.

He had a funny feeling that he would.

The two of you then had to hide away, but still in sight to the audience, as you watched Ophelia's burial. Gwilym's eyes flickered across to you as you stared intensely at the scene unfolding in front of you. There was only half an hour of performance time left. He didn't want it to end.

After causing a scene in the grave with Laertes- him fighting his fathers and sisters honour while you were fighting to declare your love for her- the final, tragic, scene finally arrived.

As everyone poured in and stood to the side of the stage to watch Hamlet and Laertes fence, Harry had one of the Lords assist him with putting on fencing gear while Gwilym helped you put on yours. His hands brushed against your waist and thighs as he secured the velcro of the padded fabric to you. You sent him a brief smile before he placed on your helmet and you got into position.

You and Harry fenced back and fourth until you got injured by Laertes' poisoned fencing sword and then you stabbed him back after getting into a fight with him. Then you had to throw away your helmet and run to your mother after she had been poisoned, holding her in your arms with false tears flowing until she died. You placed her down gently and stood up then started to act out the effects of the poison, clutching your 'wound' and you stomach.

Laertes then tells you that you have been poisoned and that Claudius was behind everything. You kill Claudius before letting out a pained wail, stumbling into Gwilym before he slowly fell to the ground cradling you. "Heaven make thee free of it! I follow thee. I am dead, Horatio. Wretched queen, adieu! You that look pale and tremble at this chance that are but mutes or audience to this act." You writhed in his hold and cried out in pain. Gwilym was choking up- but he wasn't acting. This scene always moved him to tears, even more so because of you. "Had I but time as this fell sergeant, death, is strict in his arrest. O, I could tell you...but let it be. Horatio, I am dead; Thou livest; report me and my cause aright to the unsatisfied." You weakly begged and traced your fingers tenderly across his jaw.

Gwilym shook his head, propping you up a little but still lovingly holding you. "Never believe it. I am more an antique Roman than a Dane! Here's yet some liquor left." He tried to drink the rest of the poisoned wine that your mother had drank.

"As thou'rt a man, give me the cup: let go; by heaven, I'll have't!" You snatched it before he could drink it and downed it all, letting the bright, crimson liquid stain your lips. He let out a sob as you let out an antagonising cry- you could hear more sniffles from the audience. "O good Horatio, what a wounded name, things standing thus unknown, shall live behind me!" His character was supposed to lean forward and attempt to capture your lips to try and derive some of the poison from him but before he could, Hamlet pressed his fingers to Horatio's lips to stop him. But Gwilym was a little too fast for you tonight and his lips just caught your own. That certainly was not in the script. You both froze with shock for a moment- you were certain you had heard Daisy gasp before you blinked back into reality and carried on with your lines. "If thou didst ever hold me in thy heart," you shakily spoke, a slight buzz flowing through your veins and nerves. Gwilym was looking at you with wide eyes as if to silently appologise for doing that. "Absent thee from felicity awhile, and in this harsh world draw thy breath in pain, to tell my story." He seemed just as shocked as you that he gave you a ghost of a kiss. But a part of him was overwhelmed with joy that he finally managed to feel your lips- even though it was very brief and faint. But it was no less magical. "O, I die, Horatio; The potent poison quite o'er-crows my spirit: I cannot live to hear the news from England; But I do prophesy the election lights on Fortinbras: he has my dying voice; So tell him, with the occurrents, more and less, which have solicited." You cupped his face and brightly smiled through your 'pain'. "The rest is silence."

Then you died in Gwilym's arms once more for the final time. A death you were happy to endure.

Gwilym hugged you, rocking you back and forth while crying. "Now cracks a noble heart. Good night sweet prince: and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest!" He kissed your forehead- that kiss was scripted. Horatio and Fortinbras then talk of what had happened and then, as quick as it had begun, it was finally over.

Gwilym helped you upright and everyone took a bow as the audience clapped and cheered. All your cast mates then turned to you and clapped, you bashfully hid your face in your hands and chuckled. Then Hugh emerged with a bunch of flowers for you and you almost burst into tears. You reached up and kissed his cheek and then turned to Daisy and gave her platonic pecks on her cheeks, giving your Ophelia a flower from the bouquet before you all took a final bow and disappeared from the stage.

You didn't see Gwilym after coming off the stage, you were drowning in a sea of people congratulating you. But you managed to escape back to your dressing room and shed Hamlet's clothes then changed into your own. Daisy appeared and told you they were all heading to the afterparty. "I'll meet you all there soon," you tiredly smiled from your chair, your leg tucked underneath yourself. "I just need to organise my stuff out- I'll be an hour tops."

Daisy nodded "Alrighty! You were incredible, Y/N. It's been an absolute joy being your Ophelia. You and I are going to discuss that little delightful hiccup of Gwilym's earlier!" She pointed, referring to the kiss and you shook your head with a grin. "See you soon!" She blew you kisses then shut the door behind her, but not completely.

You sighed and picked up your bloodied fencing gear and sadly smiled. Gwilym was passing with his backpack thrown over his shoulder, he noticed the faint yellow glow pouring out of your dressing room door that was left ajar. He delicately chapped it with his knuckles before peering around the door. You looked up and silently encouraged him to come in, he did and shut the door over behind him, placing down his backpack and sitting across from you on another chair. You were still holding your fencing outfit.

"Just saying goodbye..." you admitted and half heartedly folded the outfit. Gwilym had a crooked smile on his face. Being immersed in such a pivotal and intense role was going to be hard to let go of- Gwilym had Horatio withdrawls already. You reached down to your bag and pulled out a script. "And then hello to Lady Macbeth." You couldn't hold back a wide, ecstatic smile.

Gwilym went wide-eyed and gasped "You got the part?! That's amazing! I'm so happy for you!" He was almost as excited as you. You had told him how much you wanted the role since you auditioned for it two months ago.

"Thank you," you placed down the script, looking at it while you spoke to him. "Macbeth hasn't been cast yet- still holding auditions. Maybe you should go?" You suggested "You'd probably get the part."

You saw out of the corner of your eye Gwilym shrugging his shoulders. "I don't know..." he did hear the part was up for grabs.

You turned to look at him "If you do get it you'd get to properly kiss me on stage..." You saw his whole body tense and he opened his mouth, desperately trying to say something but all his mouth could do was open and snap shut over and over again. "It's alright!" You softly laughed and took his hand, lacing your fingers with his. Gwilym was wondering if this was all a dream- that he'd fallen asleep in his dressing room. You squeezed his hand and he then knew he wasn't dreaming. "You know, if you wanted to kiss me...you could have just asked."

Without a second of hesitation Gwilym moved forward "From the moment I met you, Y/N, I have adored and admired you with all my heart. I like you, so much more than you'll ever know. Can I kiss you?"

"Yes," you smiled and felt his lips perfectly- and a little desperately- crash against yours before starting to move in sync.

He pulled back after a few moments, cupping your face with his soft hands "I have wanted to do that for so long- I swear I've almost kissed you on stage a hundred times!" You both laughed. You rested your forehead against his and looked in each other's eyes before peppering one another's lips with kisses.

"They aren't expecting me to turn up for a little while and I've got a perfectly good bottle of champagne in my mini-fridge that I was saving for tonight." Your suggestion made Gwilym grin. "The only thing is I've got no glasses, only teacups."

"That's alright," Gwilym softly laughed and kissed you again "You have whichcraft in your lips..." he lowly murmured before hotly kissing you, sending a wave of ecstasy and a jolt of electricity through your body.

"We're onto Henry V now are we?" You teased and stood up, popping open the champagne and pouring it into teacups. You clinked them together and took a sip. Gwilym sat down on the sofa that was against the wall of the dressing room and then reached out to you, pulling you towards him and onto his lap. One of his hands rubbed your thighs and you contently sighed.

"I’ll make my heaven in a lady’s lap..." You playfully rolled his eyes at yet another Shakespeare quote- this time from Henry VI part three. He placed down your cups and you both shared another kiss. "I feel like I'm in heaven here with you." You wrapped your arms around one another and remained like that on the couch for a little while until you had to go to the party.

You had died in his arms again only this time in way that made you feel more alive than ever.

———————–————

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