#and so he covers himself up in lies and leather and performs on stage. and nobody thinks anyone is standing there but Santiago

[laniidae-passerine]

decided that in my own personal canon, Santiago’s maker looked similar to Louis, simply because Ben Daniels stated that Santiago was very likely in love with his maker. and wouldn’t it be some kind of torture to fall in love with the man who murdered your first vampiric love? to then watch him fall in love with another, who bears an eerie resemblance to that first love? to be witness to something tender and affectionate blooming, every moment a memory of how none of those you’ve adored have ever wanted you back? it would be agony. it would be torture. god, you would just hate them to pieces, loathing even as you loved them. and you wouldn’t know peace - not until the whole pack of them learnt the horror of love, just as you have.

[izzysillyhandsy]

A cool death - Ed's theatrical, performative suicide

"You know, I thought I'd have a cooler death than this. Something like being eaten, eaten by a tiger, or massaged to death by mermaids, or… belly-flopping into a volcano."

It seems I'm not done analysing The Scene from S2E2. It is a wonderful scene, perfect for rewatching - the music, the lighting, the double meaning of the things being said and the things unsaid, and the way it almost feels unreal, artificial and staged.

This is Ed's arranged suicide and he is playing by his rules, expecting Izzy to go along with it (as per usual). And at first, Izzy responds to it.

It is obvious to everyone that Ed is a highly dramatic person who loves the fantastical, symbolism and storytelling; he has a rich imagination and loves to perform. With Izzy, this is more hidden (especially in S1) but in S2 it becomes clearer and clearer that, in that regard, he is not that different from Ed. Both of them creating Blackbeard (their greatest fuckery) is only one example. The Kraken and the Shark is another.

For almost their whole lives, Ed and Izzy have been performing, creating theatrical illusions of their preferred realities to keep them safe, in charge and help maintain a certain lifestyle. But these illusions also helped in covering up their weaknesses (Ed can't kill, Ed can be unstable, Izzy loves Ed far too much, they're incapable of letting the other go, etc).

So is it any wonder that Ed, at his lowest point and just wanting everything to be over with, views his own suicide as a form of fuckery? He needs someone to kill him (the no killing rule extends even to himself) and so he arranges reality in a way to make that happen.

And for Blackbeard, it can never be an ordinary, boring, basic death. His death has to be cool and pretty intense.

Luckily, he has just the right person for the job - the master of real, sincere intensity: Izzy, who would do anything for him, who'd play along and follow him right into the fantasy, who has been with him for so long that he'd just get it.

And Ed makes it completely clear from the start - "I had a dream about you last night. I dreamt that you killed me." - this is about Ed and how Ed wants to die, dreamt up to the last detail. He holds Izzy's gaze. "It was good for me." - please do this last thing for me. He softly touches Izzy's (ungloved) right hand while standing up and getting into position - "I was standing. Just like this."

Izzy, probably half delirious from bloodloss and pain, follows Ed's every move with rapt attention.

So, how does Ed arrange his death? How does he imagine his last ever fuckery, his last shared fantasy with Izzy?

The execution of a mythical creature

Ed positions himself very carefully, at a good distance to Izzy and between Izzy and the stairs leading up to the door, with rays of sunlight coming from above.

From Izzy's POV, Ed must look like an angel ascending to heaven. Ed's posture and especially the way he holds his arms - almost a crucifixion pose - add to the impression. The sunlight frames him like a halo.

Contrary to the beginning of the scene, Ed turns his back to his executioner and calmly closes his eyes. He stands tall, proud and beautiful, accepting his fate with grace.

Perfect, beautiful and untouchable

Ed might be at his most beautiful and sublime in this scene. He is calm, dignified and regal. Izzy isn't granted the same status.

While Ed is a statue of perfection, Izzy lies on a filthy bed below him, drenched in his blood and god knows what else.

He's sweaty, his hair sticks to his face and his clothes are rumpled (and Izzy is normally so well groomed). His leather vest and even his omnipresent right glove are missing, as well as half a leg. He's so weak, he probably wouldn't even be able to sit up properly.

Also, in stark contrast to Ed, Izzy is almost hysterical. He's laughing maniacally, his face is contorted, and he's wildly emotional.

Ed is above it all, tragically beautiful and serene.

Surrendering to his fate

Ed almost projects the image of a hero or a revolutionary being executed by an evil henchman. He's Ed here - not the Kraken or even Blackbeard. His fate is decided by Izzy, Blackbeard's first mate. I think in Ed's mind, it is fitting that the man who "egged Ed on" to stay in his Blackbeard persona finally kills him when he can't do it anymore.

When Stede left him, Ed returned to Izzy without any plan what to do next. When Izzy kind of decided for him (at least that what Ed tells himself I think) Ed realized that he couldn't be what Izzy wanted him to be any more. He escalated the Blackbeard fuckery to become essentially Izzy's worst fear and nightmare.

Now, at the end of it all, he's back to being Edward, Edward who just wanted to be himself. And the man who had controlled him for decades gets to execute him. One last time, Ed is at the mercy of Izzy.

It is a compelling fantasy.

And Izzy finally, finally decides to stop playing.

At the beginning, Izzy seems entranced, a little hopeful, nostalgic and maybe even elated (even if everythings fucked to hell, at least this Ed wants to share with him). But as soon as Ed gets into position and expects Izzy to act executioner to his theatrical, arranged suicide - he just can't do it anymore.

Izzy could never kill Ed in any circumstances, but this must have been like a slap in the face (or, to be as dramatic as Ed, a dagger through the heart).

Izzy destroys the fantasy by essentially treating Ed like a little kid - "Ooh, you scared, Eddie?" and "Clean up your own fuckin' mess". He's not playing the part Ed chose for him, this is not who he is.

Izzy is not Ed's executioner. He is not a maniacal puppetmaster. He's not a higher power and Ed's not at his mercy. Ed is not a perfect, untouchable mystical creature and Izzy is not a hysterical wretch.

When Ed leaves (slightly disappointed, but not surprised, maybe even grudgingly approving), Izzy kills himself. Without any fuckery, theatricality and without an audience.

With his trusted scene partner gone, Ed immediately abandons his dignified hero fantasy. He throws himself into his next fuckery - the deranged killer. I'm quite sure that one wasn't as meticulously planned.

But when Izzy inexplicably comes back, the tables have turned. Izzy, who has finally taken control over his part in their shared destiny, appears on deck in the midst of lightning strikes and thunder. Now it's Izzy who is calm, dignified and untouchable - a mythical creature himself. Back from the dead, indestructible, disarming Ed with an impossible shot.

And Ed? Ed is visibly impressed. God I love those two. For the last time, Izzy is giving Ed what he wants, but on his own terms.

Finally, the crew kill Ed in the most dramatic way possible, in the middle of a fucking storm, on a ship doomed to sink with every soul on board.

Ed and Izzy can be proud - this was the most impressive fuckery of their lives.

[jaehotbuns]

idolboyfriend!mark

♡ 2.6k, fluff  =^._.^= ∫

you first met Mark on a Nature Republic photo shoot where your friend was a hair stylist 

she called you frantically because the SM staff caught multiple employees from each department posting on their personal social media stories the location and whereabouts of the members and dismissed them from the site

they were shooting at an island in the middle of nowhere which you were conveniently writing a thesis on different landscapes of South Korea 

you had no experience of styling other people and only did it for yourself but you knew you couldn’t leave your friend deserted so you came to help in any way that you could

half of the staff were fired on the spot so they immediately pushed you towards the members to prepare them for their next shoot after threatening legal action if you decided to act as stupidly as the other stylists did 

you saw your friend quickly adjusting the collar of theHawaiian shirt that was roughly put on Jaehyun and she gave you an apologetic look and mouthed a ‘thank you’

you were assigned at styling Mark’s hair, which you were scared of because you had never styled a man’s hair before never mind a celebrity but you squared your shoulders and hoped for the best

he was already used to the chaos but he was slightly concerned at how well you would perform considering that your eyebrows were furrowed and had sweat rolling down your temples as you scrunched the ends of his hair with mousse to create beachy waves

every stylist that he met was always either professional and stoic or overly friendly to try and get with the members romantically but he tried to suppress his laughter when he saw your distressed face under your medical mask

in such a stressful and hectic situation, he would never talk to the staff to help them focus but he couldn’t help but strike up a conversation with you

you looked younger than him too so he felt more comfortable

“first time?” he asked with a smile on his face as he looked up at you

your hands stopped in the middle of combing the fluffy mousse through his hair and your face dropped slightly, “you could tell?”

Mark covered his laugh with his hand as he didn’t want to discourage you but couldn’t help but chuckle at the cute expression on your face 

“yeah,” he answered but then realized that it came out meaner than he had intended

“but you’re doing a great job! Keep going!” He tried to encourage you by motioning with his hands to continue

you patted his hair into place for finishing touches but you pouted under your mask when you realized, “how would you know? You can’t even see it” 

there were no mirrors in sight except for the hand mirrors that stylists held on their belt

he choked on his saliva out of embarrassment and rubbed his hand awkwardly on the back of his neck

“well let’s see then!” He exclaimed and you begrudgingly gave him the hand mirror to see 

you were bracing yourself in case he thought you made his hair into a bird’s nest and demanded you to be fired on the spot but he let a “wahh” escape his mouth as he admired the hairstyle 

“this actually looks great!” He said a little too excitedly 

“we were both expecting it to look bad then, huh?” You joked but really you were relieved that he thought it didn’t look atrocious 

Mark shook his head to deny but you held his shoulders in place to not disrupt his hair 

his face went pink and you realized that you just touched a client, a very influential client 

you lifted your hands off of him quickly and stepped back so that he could stand up from his chair and go in front of the cameras to prepare for the shoot

“thank you” he said and you both exchanged bows before awkwardly getting back to work 

you stayed on the set with your friend for the rest of the day until the sun went down and the sky turned a bright pink from the previous ocean blue 

luckily, that was the last hair and clothes change that NCT needed and everyone started to pack up after the photographer and managers shouted “thank you for your work” and everyone bowed and clapped to each other 

while each member started to load into their vans to get back to the city for their next schedule, Mark ran up to you and asked if you were apart of the SM staff or were for hire from another beauty boutique

“oh, I just came last minute,” you said 

“I’m not actually licensed for this I came to help”

he let out a disappointed “oh” and decided not to take your number down since it was unprofessional and knew that after the fiasco today that there could be anyone around to expose him if he did 

“good night, see you around,” he said in hopes that he would see you again

you doubted that he would see you around but you repeated what he said and waved at him as he ran into the van 

the other members were confused as to why he ran off to greet you and were ready to tease him since they noticed that you were his type physically 

but he knew that they were about to so he lied and said that he forgot to take a bracelet from you and pretended to fall asleep so that they couldn’t question him further

you thought about that was a once in a lifetime experience until 2 weeks later the campaign was a hit and everyone was fawning over Mark specifically since he looked like boyfriend material in a white button up shirt and blue jeans with messy beach hair 

your friend called to tell you that she recommended you as a freelance hair stylist after they asked her who did Mark’s hair 

as a broke college student living in another country you took the offer but felt guilty getting an amazing job with no credentials so you got licensed at a beauty school within 2 months 

the next time you saw Mark was on the Punch music video set 

he had everything on except makeup and hair 

you were taken aback at how different he looked with the leather pieces, chain jewelry, and overall bad boy vibes

he was sitting in front of the dressing room vanities and his face lit up when he saw you stand behind him with your cart of hair products and tools 

usually he’d stay still in his chair but this time he turned around to face you, “hey! I thought you said you weren’t even licensed?”

“I decided to after getting offered a job” you smiled 

he turned around and looked at you through the mirror’s reflection, “or did you come back because of me?” 

you coughed through your mask and felt the heat creep from your neck all the way to your cheeks and temples

Mark smiled to himself when he saw your bright red face and was even more excited for the music video shoot knowing that the stylist he thought was cute would be doing his hair on a regular basis and could see him act cool on stage

to not let you out of his sights again, Mark pulled his phone off of the vanity table in front of him and went straight to his Instagram search page, “can I have your Insta by the way?” 

you were combing the translucent gel through his hair when you tilted your head out of curiosity of why he would want your socials 

“I send what kind of hairstyles and concepts I’d like to try to stylists on here,” he said 

in actuality Mark wasn’t one of the idols that really cared of how his stylists dressed him like Johnny or Jaehyun but he wanted an excuse so that his interest in you was too obvious

“oh sure,” you spelled out your Instagram handle and you saw him follow you right away

for the rest of the shoot for the two days that it took place, Mark would admire you every time you came up to him between scenes to wipe the sweat off his forehead and to spray his hair with setting mist 

although you were a fan of the group, you didn’t want to make them uncomfortable so you invested all of your focus on making them look their best

Mark appreciated that; you weren’t completely cold and professional but you also didn’t cross any boundaries by asking him about his personal life or interviewing him like some new stylists did 

when you got home you decided to look at Mark’s profile and saw that he was only following his family, friends from Vancouver, idols friends, and a few celebrities that he looked up to 

you were the only staff member that he was following other than his managers

but you didn’t think for a second Mark liked you

even though during promotions he would text you on his time off about your day and ask you about yourself 

“because I don’t want to be to formal” was his excuse to his unofficial game of 21 questions 

even though after promotions when he was on his break, he’d ask you to go shopping with him “to get some inspiration from uh hair stuff” 

at one point he was bold enough to ask you to go to a cafe because he said he felt like you two were friends at one point

behind the scenes, Johnny caught on quickly at how Mark was on his phone more often when he’d usually just use it to play mobile games or listen to music 

“I don’t think you left the bracelet with the pretty stylist,” Johnny would tease Mark one day when he saw him re-reading your texts and smiling to himself 

“you left your heart,” he’d say and slap himself on the knee from laughing too hard at his own joke

“can you get out of my room?” Mark would retort in embarrassment but it was worse for him from there

Johnny told both floors that Mark had a big fat crush on the young stylist and was flirting with them 24/7 

Mark wasn’t really the type to get in his feelings 

sure he’d find different celebrities or employees that he’d work with attractive but he knew it was for business or that they’d just be really good friends in the industry 

but you felt like home 

like he could imagine that if he was back in Vancouver that you two would meet at a library or something and he’d ask you for a coffee after you asked him to watch your bag to go to the washroom 

that was what he’d imagine before he went to sleep at night anyways 

half of the time he’d stay up thinking about asking you out officially and keeping your relationship as a secret and the other half of the time he’d kick his blankets scolding himself for even thinking that because it would put both of your careers on the line and he didn’t want you to feel the burden of dating in secret

you also had feelings for Mark but thought that he was just friendly and flirty 

even if he did have feelings for you, you thought that it would be best to just stay as friends because you didn’t want to get in the way of his career

one day Mark couldn’t take it anymore and went to the convenient store by himself instead of riding bikes with Haechan and Renjun like he originally planned to 

they noticed that he didn’t get embarrassed or annoyed at the teasing anymore and just kept to himself so they followed him to the store and found him outside on a bench with a beer in his hand

both of them sat beside him and Haechan grabbed the beer and took a swig, “just tell her” 

Mark placed his elbows on his knees and ran his fingers through his hair in frustration, “I don’t want to ruin it for us… Or for her”

Renjun placed a hand on his shoulder reassuringly, “if you both have strong feelings for each other then it’ll always work out in the end” 

Mark shook his head although he appreciated the support, “what if the stress gets us to break up? What if I make it awkward for her at work?” 

Haechan stopped him and told him sternly, “I see the way you two look at each other and I know that she’d accept if you asked. If the press or pressure causes you to break up then at least you tried.” 

Renjun added on more gently, “do you just want to continue suffering forever? What if she’s waiting for you too?” 

Mark didn’t want to think about it any longer and as a lightweight, the 2 cans of beer in his system were already giving him courage

if he had another night to think about it, he’d probably never confess to you so he decided in his tipsy state to confess right then 

with urgency, he told you to meet you at Hangang River right away 

“thank you guys,” he said while standing up too quickly 

he stumbled a little bit before starting to walk towards the meeting place, “I can do it!”

“you can do it!” Renjun laughed while holding up too fists to show his support

Haechan on the other hand held up his phone and started to record Mark walking clumsily towards the river, “don’t mess up loser!” 

you were finishing up on your readings when you got Mark’s text 

it sounded like he was going to confess but you shook the thought out of your head at the thought of a global star asking you out 

“probably wants to de-stress with a friend,” you thought before putting on a hoodie and jeans before walking to Hangang

when you arrived you could smell a mixture of beer and mint in his breath

His face was flushed pink which was a result of the alcohol and the 2.2km he had just walked

“why did you call me out all of a sudden?” You asked 

“will you go out with me?” He said a little bit too loudly

you quickly looked around to make sure that no one was within a kilometre near you too and asked in a hushed voice, “what?”

“I like you!” He nearly shouted, not aware of his volume due to the nervousness of the chance of rejection

“I tried not to like you ever since I met you but I can’t get you out of my head,” he avoided your gaze and couldn’t believe how cheesy he sounded

Mark continued regardless, “I know that we have to date in secret if you do like me but I promise to protect you and I won’t regret my decision if anything happens. So uh-”

“yes,” you grinned. “I’ll go out with you”

he was surprised at how you accepted with ease, “oh wow I wasn’t expecting this. Thank you for listening to me talk on haha, I don’t even know what to say I-”

to stop his blabbering you held onto his arms to steady yourself for when you went on your tippy toes to peck him on the lips

“that’s not fair” he pouted

“what’s not fair?”

“that’s it?” He murmured under his breath 

“then get some more” you teased

his hands cupped the sides of your face and bent his neck down to reach your height

your hand wrapped around his waist to pull him into a hug while his warm lips pressed onto yours

[sunjaesol]

i’m getting old, it makes me reckless

canon compliant juke | angst | title: when we were young // adele

The band ended their last song in a clash of instruments and vocals, roaring above the audience yelling the lyrics right back. It was the biggest venue yet, the arena stretching far and wide and holding more people than Julie could imagine. Her throat was aching, but it was all worth it. Every note savoured. Every lyric tasted till it staled on her tongue.

It was the gig before she left for college, leaving a whole lot more behind than this arena with the thousands of adoring strangers.

All four were drenched in sweat. Alex, with his hands red from an insanely elaborate three minute drum solo. Luke, with his callouses aching and slick, barely holding on to the strings. Reggie, no longer wearing his leather jacket and hair come undone. Julie, glitter on her cheeks mixed with the sweat and hair like a raging lion. They looked and felt maniacal. They played the concert of the year. The absolute euphoria they experienced wouldn’t be gone for a while, though her blush would quickly fade.

Now, she could still pretend Luke and her were still together. Now, even Alex and Reggie were kept in the dark from their long dreaded decision. Now, the idea that she stood on stage with the loves of her life was enough for a satisfied smile to bloom on her lips.

“Thank you!”, she bellowed into the mic. The audience didn’t stop. Screaming, whistling, asking for more. Encore, encore, encore! They were all out of songs though, having played their anthem again when they asked for it the first time. Covers seemed like a lackluster ending to the night, the band members shooting each other doubtful looks. The finality of it all ached her.

Luke’s gaze caught hers; troubled, unable to keep the sorrow at bay. Had this been any other concert, she would’ve kissed him backstage and remind him that feeling empty after giving it his all was normal. That she felt that too. She wouldn’t do that though. And she also had an inkling his expression wasn’t about that.

Words pushed themselves out of her throat before she thought about it. “I have something. It’s a cover though. Do you guys like covers?”

Another salvo of applause and shrieks, a sea of phones getting whipped out to capture every move. Reggie approached her with a slight frown.

“What’re you thinking, Julie?”

She moved away from the mic. “Is it alright if I do a solo cover?”

His casual nod caused nerves to coil in her stomach, only now realising what she did. What she was about to do to herself. The bassist made a sign at the boys to get off stage, Luke’s fingers ghosting her back (not entirely, never entirely, she has never truly felt the atoms of his hands touch her) and following the boys into the wings.

Curiosity buzzed around the concert hall, Julie making her way to the grand piano on the left of the stage and attaching her mic in the designated stand. When she looked into void, it instantly quieted down. Her timid voice was like a sharp thread slicing the air.

“This next song, uh…” Swallowing back the feeling of loss that simmered right beneath her skin, she took a deep breath. A needle could drop, so silent everyone heard her pained intake. “I’ve taught it myself a while ago. It’s quite melancholic, but I’ve always been a bit like that, I guess.”

Her feet found the pedals, fingers the well-loved keys. The lights were hot on her skin, yet a certain person’s stare felt more fiery than anything else.

Julie took another steadier breath. “Thank you once more for a beautiful night, LA. This is ‘When We Were Young’.”          

The beginning notes caused another uproar from people recognising the song, lighters and phone flashlights flickering up one by one like stars. She sunk into the notes, let her hands find the familiar path as all she could think about was Luke. Every word would be laced with the memory of him.

He wasn’t gone, but he might as well had stolen her heart and vanished into the night with it.  

With her eyes shut, the first lyrics uttered melodically from her lips.

Everybody loves the things you do From the way you talk, to the way you move

(A fifteen year old Julie watched as the crowd ate up Luke’s guitar solo, the riff an electrifying ensemble of unique sounds that shouldn’t work but somehow did. He played it for them, but his torso was twisted her way, like his body couldn’t decide who he preferred. Back then, Julie presumed it was the crowd, obviously. Music was everything for Luke. Music and nothing more. Sure, that included her and the boys, but she had accepted quickly on she’d never claim that top spot in his heart. And she was fine with that. It hurt a little, except then she’d remind herself of her own love for music and what a gift it was playing in a band like theirs. To be the name people sought out online.

Luke shot some winks to the first row, dropping to his knees to get him even closer to the fans. Alex caught her eye when she turned around, rolling his good-naturedly. Luke being Luke, it meant.

“It doesn’t inflate your ego, does it?”, she teased hours later, slumped on opposite sides of the couch.

He scoffed, a smile edging his lips. “Are you jealous?”

“It is-” she pulled herself upright, brown peering into the curious green. “-merely an observation.”

“An observation.” He mimicked her, all of a sudden not so far away. Their legs were brushing and if she leaned in, she could kiss him. His head tilted, never one to stop teasing. “Right.”

The high of a good performance made her say it. “Do you want me to be?”

When he kissed her, she expected his lips to be cold. Ghost-cold. Instead, they were warm and soft, like in her dreams, and he smiled when she kissed him back - also like in her dreams. It had been short, the way his nose brushed hers a promise for more.)      

Everybody here is watching you 'Cause you feel like home, you're like a dream come true

(They quickly found an escape from the hysteria in Griffith Park. It was closeby Julie’s house and its sweeping nature left enough places for Julie and Luke to hide and be with each other without disturbances. It was a bit unorthodox for a teenage couple to burrow themselves in the forest, but she supposed she threw normality out the window the moment she decided she wanted to date a ghost.

Luke sighed, body dropping on the soft grass and pulling her with him. His beanie fell off, a pleased smile quirking on her lips as she raked a hand through his locks. It was always a cause for celebration whenever he got rid of the hat, the impending doom of baldness something she’d warn him about had he still been alive. Julie pushed the thought back. She couldn’t think that way. A finger curled around a soft strand of hair.  

His nose pressed in her cheek, coaxing her closer until she snugly fit in the curve of his body. Lips moved against her skin. “Can I keep you here? Screw homework.”

Julie chuckled. Her meandering hand sloped to his chest, circling the soft fabric of his sweater. “Unfortunately, calculus and I have a date tonight.”

“You’re seeing someone else?”, he gasped. “Julie!”

“I know.” His laugh reverberated, the sound melting into her skin as she pushed herself impossibly close. Adding, her voice was muffled: “Very sneaky of me.”

Luke’s arms fully wrapped around her, humming contently at their new position of having her half-sprawled on top of him. If it wasn’t for the slight flush on his cheeks, she’d think he completely cool about this. It made her smile. He may act all tough sometimes, but he was just as new to this as she was.

She tapped against the red. “The macho is gone.”

He rolled his eyes, though it held a glimmer of fondness. It was for her, she giddily remembered. The way he faltered in quiet awe, soft and timid, was for her. Reaching to kiss him, the blaring declaration that he was home rang in her head.

She didn’t tell him that. Ever.)    

But if by chance you're here alone Can I have a moment before I go? 'Cause I've been by myself all night long Hoping you're someone I used to know

(“Sixteen,” he bellowed. “Is there a song about being sixteen?!”

She laughed. “Ellie Goulding has one, I think. You wanna sing me a song about being sixteen-”

“Cause you are sixteen!” He hoisted himself on the grand piano, grinning at her from across the studio. She tried as best as she could to match it.

Birthdays have felt like taboo ever since the boys came into her life. She aged, they didn’t, and eventually they would have to disband. Eventually, everyone would notice how they were frozen in time. Eventually, she and Luke would be too far apart in ages.

Julie has dreaded her birthday since the first time her heart skipped a beat at the sight of him.

Sensing something was off, the frown replaced the grin. “You okay, Jules?”

“Yeah,” she dismissed, waving him off with an air of nonchalance. It was easy for her, something she became an expert in after her mom passed. “Just tired from school.”

He poofed in front of her, hands massaging into her shoulders. She couldn’t look at him. And then she said it anyway.

“Are you okay?”

The unsaid was clear, him stilling as his jaw locked in place. It was then that something cracked between them. Unnoticeable, like a small line in a ceramic cup. They were fine after, but never before had they stamped an expiration date on their relationship. Her simple question changed everything.

He coughed, struggling with the smile. It felt rehearsed. “Course,” he muttered. “I’m good.”)  

You look like a movie You sound like a song My God, this reminds me of when we were young

(He breathed into the kiss like she himself gave him life, hot and open-mouthed and tongues caressing to feel more. Her arms were wrapped around his neck, legs straddling his waist in the safety of her bedroom. He left no space between them. Flush together, fingers pressing into her back, breaths and grins mingling when they parted for air. How she got him breathless, she wouldn’t ask. The fact that he did, was enough for her. He never felt like a ghost to her. Not before they started dating and certainly not now.

Each kiss was like music to her ears. Each touch alighting her skin with sparks of affection and need.

“God, I love you,” he whispered.

Her dazzling smile stretched against his jaw, halting in place. She giggled. “You love me?”

Their eyes met, his hooded from passion as he slowly tracked her face. “It’s not obvious?”

“It is.” A tender kiss brushed his lips, thumbs swiping his cheekbones with that boundless devotion she never wanted to let go of. It was the most blissful feeling in the world.

Julie uttered it right back. “I love you too.”)    

Her voice exploded into an anguished belt, head rolling back as the lyrics flew into the sky. If she hit her notes, if she was making any sense, if the audience was worried - it didn’t matter. Julie needed this. This was her goodbye.

Let me photograph you in this light In case it is the last time that we might Be exactly like we were before we realised We were sad of getting old, it made us restless It was just like a movie It was just like a song

(Julie jumped on top of him in a sneak attack. Armed with her Polaroid camera, she swerved out the way from his grabby hands as she took shot after shot. Her laughing boyfriend snatched her by her side, fingers like spider tickling her until she relented with tears in her eyes. Strewn around them were the pictures, still processing.

“What’re you doing?”, he chuckled.

Julie plucked a Polaroid from her mattress and began waving it around. “You look so cute,” was her simple answer. His grin widened at that.

“Only now?”

“I wanted to capture you just like this. When-” When we’re like this, so goddamn happy and in love. “When you look all…” While Julie mimicked his face, Luke planted his hands on the mattress to pull himself up and give her a chaste kiss.

His smirk eradicated her previous thoughts. “Can’t make a silly face after I have sex with my beautiful girlfriend?”

She hummed, all mushy from his actions. “You can. That’s why I’m taking a picture.”

Luke kissed her again, letting that ‘silly face’ run free and craning his neck to watch the picture develop.

He cried when he didn’t appear. Another crack in the cup.)

I was so scared to face my fears Nobody told me that you'd be here

(An outsider looking into the Molina household would think there was funeral going on. An insider would be even more confused, as Julie Molina just got accepted into USC and rather felt like crying for three full days then celebrate with her friends.

It settled then. She’d go to college, like she always wanted, and have her life radically change once more - not like she wanted. The band was solid, she and Luke were solid. College would change everything. Alex assured her that it’d be fine, that minor adjustments wouldn’t ruin them, but Julie had her doubts.)

And I swear you’d moved overseas That's what you said, when you left me

(He hardly looked at her when she turned seventeen. She couldn’t blame him. Her doubts, fears stacking on top of one another at rapid pace, surged to the forefront. They were the same age. Tomorrow, she’d be 364 days closer to eighteen. Closer to being older, to surpassing him, to hitting their expiration date.

His troubled expression resolved a little later. Back to his bouncy, enthusiastic self, he showered her in kisses and dedicated all the songs at their gig in Raven’s Nest to her. The boys even sang her ‘Dancing Queen’ by ABBA, her appropriately dressed in sparkly flared trousers and matching top. Her fears were forgotten then. Later too, when she giggled as he pulled her into a laughing kiss, the glitter of her clothes staining his own.

Luke was so alive in that moment. Sweat brimming his forehead and buzzing with adrenaline and each kiss rougher than the next. He was real, real, real, real, real, real.

The lie brought her temporary comfort.)

Julie repeated the chorus, body trembling from all the memories hitting her at once. Soon, the numbing final strike would bring her ease. For her sake, for his, for the band. The refrain flowed through.

When we were young When we were young When we were young When we were young

(“What about ‘when we were young’?”, Julie proposed, blue pen pressed into her songbook. Luke sat next to her, slouched against the front of the couch as his eyes were fixed on the ceiling, mustering for the muses to gift them genius lyrics.

“When we were young?” He chuckled. “That’s a joke, right?”

She paused, pen clenching between her fingers as her head turned to look at him. “What?”

He caught her tone, straightening his back with a shrug. “Nothing.”

“No, why do you think that was a joke?”

They’ve been on edge ever since her dad bought her all the USC merch the online store offered. The sea of red draped across her room got him upset, once his favourite colour now his biggest enemy. It wasn’t like they were trying to hurt each other, but…

Julie didn’t know what to do anymore. Songwriting was their usual remedy and even that didn’t diffuse the tension. She wished her mom was here, for advice, except would she be able to give proper words of wisdom when a relationship with a ghost was unprecedented?

All she wanted was go back to the start, when flirtatious jabs were thrown around and they danced around each other. To kiss him for the first time again. She wanted to go back and then continue to go back every time they hit this point. To love him in a loop; to not age.  

He sighed, scribbling an annotation in the margin. “Do you really want me to answer that, Jules?”

Her lips thinned. “No.”

She taught herself the song she was singing right now that night, after he and the boys went off with Willie to some obscure concert. When she woke up the next day, he apologised for his shitty behaviour. It became harder to let love lead when cracks met them at every corner.)

It's hard to admit that everything just takes me back To when you were there, to when you were there And a part of me keeps holding on just in case it hasn't gone

A choked breath caught the fragile note, barely audible for anyone but her.

‘Cause I still care, do you still care?

(“Jules, you’re going to college in a week. You’re gonna turn eighteen and you’re gonna meet other people and you will not wanna tell them you’re dating a hologram that doesn’t fucking age!”

The raging spiel left him in one breath, face red and tears spilling with each hitting word. His shouts were heavy and tinged with devastation. The studio, once a safe haven, was now a warzone. He’s been sitting on those ugly truths for a while, Julie realised, willing herself to not cry. They had the biggest gig of their lives in a few hours and she couldn’t fuck up her face.

Luke didn’t mean to do it either. Both were hyper-focused the day of a gig. Normally, at least. It was simply a cardboard box too many in her bedroom, another proud comment from Ray, another nostalgic remark from Reggie. The fears stacked up for him as well; she should’ve known he’d explode sooner than later.

Her quivering lip gulped back the nausea edging her throat. She couldn’t breath. “You don’t think I know that? I was just- I just-” A traitorous tear slipped out. “I was hoping we’d have more time. Why did it go so fast?” Why did our expiration date race us to the finish line?

Her boyfriend she loved with all her heart stood right in front of her, yet it felt like they were oceans apart.

Trembling hands slid up her arms to her shoulders, pulling her into a tight hug. Tearless sobs wracked her body, jaw slack in agony as his action was enough confirmation. This is the end, it meant. They have reached their last chapter. He made up his mind and she wasn’t allowed to change it.

If she did, they’d burn the band with them too.

“I’m sorry,” he cried, face wet with tears pressed into her neck. “I’m so sorry, I’m so fucking sorry.”

Julie gasped for air. “Don’t. Don’t apologise.”

He shook his head, blotched and with a look she never wanted to see again. “If I could change anything, it’s this, Julie. I want to be alive for you so badly - feeling it isn’t enough anymore. You deserve better.”

Furiously blinking, she felt moisture cling to her lashes. “I deserve you,” she warbled. “I love you.”

When he didn’t say it back right away, another tear smeared across her cheek. Her mouth shaped into a please, but he shook his head, shuddering with remorse. “You deserve to be loved out in the open, Julie. Not just in the dark.”

“Please, Luke,” it barely came out, pain squeezing her lungs. “Please. You’re real to me, you’ve always- it was never in the dark.”

He let go of her. The loss of contact made her freeze. His arms hung limp by his sides. Time, for one singular moment, stood still. Her wish came true. Why did it feel like he just disappeared right then and there? Julie bit her lip, waiting for it to happen. It didn’t, but she didn’t dare touching him in case the magic was lost. Luke seemed fearful too, his shivering breaths like knives on her ears. She left before he could say anything else.

Julie wailed and redid her make-up in the backseat of her car until it was time to go.)

The rough vibrato pinched her throat once more, pushing through for the final chorus.

We were sad of getting old, it made us restless Oh, I'm so mad I'm getting old, it makes me reckless

(The year prior, Julie plucked his maroon henley from her bedroom floor as Luke was sound asleep behind her. She shrugged it on and examined herself in the mirror. If she could have it all, she’d wish to never age, to never surpass seventeen and be with Luke forever.

If she could have even more, she’d wish to grow old with him. It was a scary thought to feel so confident about at sixteen, but Julie knew. She just knew. A gut feeling should always be allowed, her mom used to say. This was it.

Julie wished she could do this every day. Stealing his shirt and seeing it fray over time. She wanted stains and holes and fabric thinning from washing it so much. She wanted messy. She wanted real.

Crawling back in his embrace and placing a soft kiss on whatever skin she found that early in the morning, she wished for him to be real until she fell back asleep.)  

It was just like a movie It was just like a song When we were young

The last note settled into arena like a heavy blanket, everyone watching with baited breath as the wrecked singer stumbled out of her seat and muttered another thank you. Her shaky smile didn’t waver while the deafening applause washed over her. It was when she reached the wings and noted the horrified looks of Reggie and Alex, that she realised Luke wasn’t with them.  

“He just…” Alex’ foot swiped across the floor where Luke once stood, aghast. “He crossed over.”

They were always selfish loving one another. To fall, to love, to be in love. The inevitable never stopped being inevitable, and yet they trucked on. Maybe they had become cocky, thinking their hearts were stronger that they actually were. It was all too apparent now. Her heart wasn’t this spiritual thing. It wasn’t made of fairy dust and magical ghost powers. It was made of flesh and blood and it was bleeding.

Luke’s never would.

The arena lights dimmed.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

@blush-and-books @willexx @bluefirewrites @ourstarscollided @sophiphi

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Shaw’s Scorching Waves Date (Eng Translation)

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for an S2 date, 炙浪之约, which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

Features S2 Shaw!

[ This date was released in CN on 28 Sep 2020 ]

MC: Mister, this is the place!

After paying the passenger fare, I hurriedly get off the car, but find that the entrance of Live House is already very crowded.

Sweeping my eyes across the area, I receive a shock.

Whether they are male or female, everyone here is donned in punk style: ripped shirts, leather outfits, jackets with rivets on them... A few people even have cool mohawk hairstyles.

At the side, the words “Rock ‘n’ Roll Night” are spray-painted on a wall. Below them is an eye-catching line--

"No entry if your attire doesn’t match the theme”

MC: ...

I look at my surroundings, then lower my head to look at my own officewear... Clearly, under such circumstances, I won’t be able to enter.

With uncertainty in my heart, I take out my phone and make a call.

After a few dial tones, Shaw’s languid voice drifts into my ear. 

Shaw: What’s up?

MC: I’m at the entrance of Live House now.

Shaw: You really came?

His sentence ends with an upward lilt, as though a little surprised.

MC: Yeah. Over the phone last night, didn’t you tell me to come over after my meeting? Since it’s a formal invitation from you, and you’re performing a new song, of course I couldn’t miss it.

Probably not expecting that I’d rush over in time, Shaw pauses at the other end of the line for a while.

Shaw: ...you’re pretty punctual. Are there many people outside? 

MC: Yeah. But the doors don’t seem to be open yet.

Shaw: Of course. After all, I just reached too. Who knew that Old Man would drag out the lesson...

MC: But what do the words on the wall mean? I didn’t know there was a dress code to watch the performance.

Shaw: You didn’t actually wear business attire over, did you?

Shaw’s laughter of ridicule drifts to my ear. Slightly angry, I grip the phone tightly. 

MC: If you keep laughing, I’m leaving!

Shaw: Tch, try to leave if you can. All right, wait where you are.

Shaw pauses, and the soft sound of breathing can be heard from the other end of the line. He seems to be stretching.

Shaw: I’ll pick you up.

-

Because of the way I’m dressed, a few staff members I walk past along the corridor to the break room can’t help but cast sidelong glances at me.

Entering the break room, I discover that there isn’t a single person inside.

MC: Eh, where are the other band members?

Shaw: They’re still on the way.

Shaw closes the door, then lies down on the sofa lazily. I once again check the time.

MC: But the performance is starting in half an hour. Don’t you guys need to rehearse?

Shaw: We’ve been prepared since a long time ago. Heading straight to the stage afterwards is fine. Come to think of it...

He tilts his head, looking me over.

Shaw: This is the first time I’m seeing someone wear business attire to watch a performance. 

MC: The fact that I could rush over already means a lot. Be contented.

Shaw: In that case, prepare yourself to be “saluted” by others later.

I lower my head to look at my outfit. It truly doesn’t suit the crowd.

Also, since there are so many people today, it wouldn’t be convenient to move around later on.

Just as I furrow my brows in vexation, Shaw suddenly speaks. 

Shaw: Hey, I have a suggestion.

Meeting his mischievous gaze, a bad feeling arises in my heart. 

MC: ...what are you planning to do?

Shaw: Since I didn’t notify you in advance, I thought of an idea.

He suddenly stands up and walks towards the wardrobe at the side.

After rifling through it for a while, Shaw takes out a black coloured leather jacket.

Shaw: Try it.

MC: ...is this yours?

Shaw: Why do you care about so many things? Just try it on.

I take the jacket from him. Skeptical, I bring it to my nose to give it a sniff - it has a faint peppermint scent. Looks like it’s pretty clean.

Watching my actions, Shaw gives me a subtle look, and releases a soft “hmph”.

Shaw: If you don’t want to wear it, forget it.

MC: Who says I’m not wearing it.

I snatch the jacket back. Although there are still some concerns in my heart, I can’t be picky considering the current circumstances.

The jacket is a little large, and hangs on my body loosely. However, it’s able to cover my short shirt. 

MC: How’s this?

Shaw: The way you’re dressed...

Shaw pauses, then chuckles softly.

Shaw: Looks pretty punk.

MC: I never thought watching a performance would be so troublesome... Why did you guys suddenly think of having a theme?

Shaw: Because it’s fun.

Shaw responds instantly.

Shaw: People who watch the performances range from working adults to students - all sorts of people. But after changing their outfits, no one will care about their identity. Before music, nobody’s different.

I look at Shaw, a little surprised. I originally thought this activity was just a spur of the moment for them, and didn’t expect that there’d be such a meaning behind it.

Just when I’m about to say something, the lights above my head suddenly flicker.

MC: What happened? Is there a problem with the lights? 

With a glance, Shaw answers indifferently.

Shaw: The voltage isn’t stable, that's all.

Before I can probe further, a series of knocks come at the door. A staff member opens the door, and tells Shaw--

Staff: Get ready, the performance is about to begin.

-

In Live House, there are a mass of bobbing heads as the restless crowd congregate near the stage.

After a short while, I’m pushed to the back.

MC: Do I have to squeeze through the crowd...

Looking at the crowd before me, which is so packed till there isn’t a single crevice, I'm at my wit’s end, and stand in place.

Man A: That bass player is quite interesting. My girlfriend likes him a lot.

Man B: Oh? You’re very magnanimous. Not jealous?

Man A: She just appreciates his musical abilities. He plays really well. See for yourself later.

The conversation between the two man standing in front of me drifts over to my ears. I can’t help but laugh. 

If Shaw knew how he was being commented on, I wonder what he’d think of it.

I whip out my phone, taking a few pictures of the scene.

“There are so many people here today! Seems like quite a number of them are here for you.”

After penning my text message, I send it to Shaw along with the photos.

The performance is about to begin. Despite thinking he wouldn’t reply, my phone suddenly vibrates.

A sentence flashes on the screen.

Shaw’s message: Why are you so far behind?

After a few seconds, another message appears. 

Shaw’s message: Don’t move around. I’ll look for you later.

I’m just about to reply. At this moment, the lights extinguish. The entire venue dives into pitch darkness, and the background music stops.

Without the hyping up of a host, and along with a flurry of shrieks, the band members enter the stage.

Purple light streams down slowly, shrouding the entire stage together with faint mist.

Shaw walks in last, his steps indolent. But his figure is tall, straight, and proud.

He hangs the bass over himself casually. Exchanging a glance with his bandmates, his fingertips flit across the strings lightly.

Along with the first sound from the drums, the performance officially begins.

Without unnecessary cushioning or embellishments, the music goes straight to the theme. The rapid and fierce melody propels the hearts of everyone to beat along with the rhythm and notes.

I’m standing below the stage, my eyes fixed on the people above it. 

Just like the first time I watched him perform, I almost forget to breathe in the midst of the shocking music.

Shaw’s fingers fly back and forth on the strings. He is so skilled in his techniques that even if you were to keep your eyes wide open, you wouldn’t be able to see how he moves his fingers clearly.

The lights and shadows intersperse like an illusion. He sways along with the rhythm, the light in his eyes even fiercer than the swift melody from his fingertips.

I grip the jacket on me. In the crowd - as what Shaw said - I have forgotten my own identity in this very moment.

Just like a normal rock lover, I can’t help but raise my hands in the air.

The climax gradually nears, and the entire crowd waits for the explosive point, their insuppressible shrieks surfacing one after the other.

At this point, the lights hanging on stage suddenly release a “PA” sound, and sparks appear in the air.

The audience in the front row cry out in alarm. The lights continuously flicker, and the buzzing sound of electricity can be heard.

Audience A: !! Did something happen?

Audience B: Seems like a problem with the lights. Could this be a stage malfunction...

People on and off the stage seem to notice this unforeseen event, and chaos erupts in the venue.

Suppressing the panic in my heart, I lift my head to look at Shaw.

In the middle of the flickering lights, I see a bewildered expression on his face too.

After a moment, he seems to think of something. He suddenly lifts his eyes and looks at the audience, his probing glance sweeping across them.

My heart jolts. Subconsciously, I give him a wave.

The surroundings are filled with the clamour of people. After sweeping past numerous profiles, Shaw’s eyes fall on me.

The moment our eyes meet, his frown smoothens out. Under the ever-changing lights and shadows, he reveals a flamboyant smile.

Shaw: Scared?

What’s there to be afraid of? Baffled, I shake my head.

Shaw holds back his smile for a moment, and he seems to be making a soft “tch” sound.

The crowd is still in chaos. Quite a number of them even squeeze towards the entrance, planning to leave the venue.

A staff wearing a name-tag is currently maintaining order in front. My eyes brighten, and I hurriedly squeeze myself over to him.

MC: Hello! The lights have been flickering, and I think it could be because the circuit over there has some issues. 

Staff: All right, thank you!

The clamour from the crowd seems to cover the music. I lift my eyes to look at Shaw, and discover that he’s currently staring at the flickering lights, and I can’t tell what he’s thinking about.

Suddenly, he lifts his hand, and a bright light reflects from the pick between his fingers.

Shaw: Hey, catch up!

He steps on the pedal, matching the rhythm of the flickering lights. A few band members start to react.

The drummer raises his drumsticks in the air, tapping them together a few times. The band members exchange glances, cooperating with the rhythm to commence a spontaneous performance. 

When the audience notice that the performance is continuing, they start cheering enthusiastically. Without realising it, I also start to cheer. 

Shaw pulls out the wire connected to the bass. He walks to the side of the stage, his gaze sweeping across the crowd slowly.

He stretches out his index finger, pointing at the most raucous part of his audience, his eyes burning with fiery light.

The mood of the audience is instantly ignited, and they respond to him with gestures.

Shaw takes two steps back. Then, he turns around fiercely, jumping into the air.

At this moment, the hanging coloured balls open and countless ribbons drift downwards.

The glaring lights stop flickering, and they are all focused on Shaw.

Standing at the back, I see Shaw being lifted by the crowd. Along with the surge of the crowd, he draws closer to me.

The performance on the stage continues. The turbulent music excites every single cell in one’s body in an unparalleled manner.

The performance reaches its peak, and everyone excitedly waves their hands in the air. It’s as though the earlier incident was nothing more than for performance effect.

Shaw and I exchange glances. Even though we’re separated by the crowd, he looks at me with an unbridled smile.

My heartbeat speeds up in my chest along with the sound of the drums.

The thin coat of sweat on his collarbones, his intense gaze, and that hand reaching towards me--

All of them render me unable to avert my gaze.

-

In the break room, I shut the door, cutting myself off from the merriment outside.

With twenty minutes left for the performance, Shaw suddenly handed his bass to me, and asked me to wait for him in the break room.

I look around my surroundings, but don’t see Shaw.

MC: Why is he always like this - deciding things for himself...

I sigh softly, looking at the bass in my arms. My mind flashes back to images of him performing.

I can't help but raise my hand. Based on the melody in my recollection, I try plucking on the strings, humming the tune softly.

??: Hey, you’re out of tune.

I jolt. Turning around, I meet Shaw’s sly gaze.

MC: ...didn’t you manage to recognise what I was playing? It shows that I’m not lacking in talent.

Lowering my head, I continue strumming the strings in indignation. But my wrist is suddenly grabbed from behind.

Shaw: You can use one finger to pluck the strings. That way, the timbre will be more even.

Before realising it, Shaw is already standing behind me. I feel his breath on my ear, and it carries the same fresh peppermint scent as the jacket on me.

I pause, then follow his advice on how to play the bass, realising that there’s indeed an evident change in the timbre.

Shaw: How is it? Isn’t it much better?

Before I can respond, footsteps are heard at the door.

In the next second, the door is pushed open. A band member enters, teasing him good-naturedly.

??: Shaw, are you able to rush your assignment before the deadline...

His voice suddenly halts. The moment he sees me, a few band members freeze.

When they notice the jacket on me, their expressions abruptly change, looking as though they’ve seen a ghost.

Adam: Isn’t that...

Jensen: All right, let’s not disturb their interaction and studies.

Jensen’s voice is genial. A few of them who tacitly understand his words start laughing.

Jensen: Shaw, catch!

A silver coloured object flies in an arc through the air, and a set of keys fall squarely in Shaw’s hand.

Jensen: We’re off. Remember to lock the doors.

In the blink of an eye, they’re all gone. 

MC: Is there something about this jacket?

Shaw rolls his eyes, walking over to the side to tidy up.

Shaw: Don’t bother about them. Let’s go.

-

There’s nobody in the main hall of Live House - a complete opposite of the lively atmosphere just now.

The loudspeakers and musical instruments on the stage have yet to be kept. A sole spotlight is turned on, and messy electrical cables are on the floor.

Thinking about the nice yet interrupted new song just now, a faint sense of regret surfaces in my heart.

MC: Shaw, could you play the bass again?

Shaw pauses in his footsteps. He turns his head to look at me, his expression baffled.

MC: That new song today - you only played it halfway before having to stop. I want to hear you play the full song.

Shaw: Right now? You really know how to order people around. Forget it, I'm in a good mood today. Wait here.

Shaw: Wait here.

He tosses his bag at me, then takes large strides to the front, hopping up onto the stage. 

He picks up the bass casually. Plugging the wire in, he lowers his eyes and sweeps a glance at me.

Shaw: This time, you’ve got to listen carefully.

With this, a melody gradually flows from his fingertips.

Although it’s the same song, it’s different from his performance earlier. He plays every beat unhurriedly, his posture casual and relaxed. 

I’m sitting on the floor, quietly listening to the low sounds of the bass, humming along with the music.

The timbre of the bass beneath his fingers is low and unruly. The occasional pauses and increases in speed are reminiscent of himself and how he does things as he pleases.

There’s a strange tugging of my emotions as memories of the past echo--

A very long time ago, underneath similar dim lights, I had watched Shaw’s performance for the first time.

I tug on the jacket over me, immersing myself in my thoughts, not noticing that Shaw has furrowed his brows above the stage, slightly upset.

Shaw places the bass to the side, then suddenly jumps off the stage.

MC: !

The thud of his feet making contact with the ground pulls me back to the present.

Amid the blurry lights and shadows, the image of him hopping off the stage and the image before me overlap.

In the quiet evening without a restless crowd, Shaw walks towards me, every step especially clear. 

He stops before me. I lift my head to look at him, but am caught off guard when he flicks my forehead. 

MC: Ah!

Shaw: You couldn’t keep your eyes off me when there were many people around. Why do you start losing focus when there are fewer people?

Shaw: Tch, you don’t know how to cherish this.

His face is within reach. My heart beats erratically in my chest once again, just like it did when he was surfing the crowd towards me.

MC: When was I unable to keep my eyes off you...

Shaw arches his brows, his expression reading: “Don’t even think of denying it”.

MC: I was just wondering why you thought of hopping off the stage earlier.

Shaw: What? 

MC: Just now, during the performance. If you had waited for the staff to fix the lights, you wouldn’t have needed to go through such trouble, right?

MC: Also, do you like getting off the stage like that? Isn’t it good to use the stairs?

Shaw: But it’s cooler like this.

Shaw’s tone is confident, and the corners of my lips tug upwards involuntarily.

Shaw: Also, this time is different from before.

MC: How so?

Shaw: It isn’t an accident this time.

He takes the bag in my hands, then walks towards the entrance. 

Shaw: Why are you still standing there? Let’s go.

-

The streets in the wee hours of the morning are tranquil and empty. The streetlights outside Live House cast small, round halos.

Shaw doesn’t speak. A lively melody drifts from his earpieces, and he’s humming a certain song from his band softly.

Shaw: Hey, your car’s here.

I nod, my eyes falling on the skateboard beneath his arm.

MC: You don’t plan to ride the skateboard home today?

Shaw: The board needs waxing. Oh yes, remember to share your location with me when you’re in the car.

We bid each other goodbye with a wave, and I enter the car. With the clinking sound of metal buttons, I realise that I’m still wearing that black coloured jacket.

I roll down the window, and exclaim at him.

MC: Shaw, thanks for your jacket!

Shaw appears to pause in his steps. After a while, he lifts his hand and waves it in the air casually. He doesn’t turn around, carrying the bass.

Shaw: Remember to wash it before returning it to me next time. 

Moonlight falls on the ends of his hair, coating it with a tender halo. Shaw steps into the tranquil night, and it seems like his footsteps have become slightly lighter.

-

🎸 MOMENTS 🎸

Shaw’s Post: The first time seeing someone wearing business attire to watch a performance. 

MC: You’ve already said it once!

Shaw: Saying it twice isn’t enough to express my surprise.

-

Shaw’s Post: The first time seeing someone wearing business attire to watch a performance

MC: And with high-heels. My feet were close to giving up when I reached home...

Shaw: You should have mentioned it earlier. I have a pair of shoes in the break room.

-

Shaw’s Post: The first time seeing someone wearing business attire to watch a performance

MC: Are you touched? To watch your performance, I didn’t even have the time to change my clothes.

Shaw: A little. Hope you can continue in your efforts the next time.

-

Phone call: here

[prose-for-hire]

The man behind the monster

Pairing: Spike x reader

Request: Opera Phantom Spike Imagine. And for the side of his face could be the vampire morph side

Requested by: @everlastingartist​

Warning: Blood mention. Biting. Spike pushes the reader.

A/N: I guess this is an amalgamation of scenes loosely inspired by the phantom of the opera. I wanted a comforting moment from the reader to Spike surrounding his vamp face though and there’s no other person. Just spike and reader. This is an au. Hope it’s okay, I give you Spike in the Vampire of the Opera.

You danced and acted in the opera house. You were part of the ensemble, you had been grateful to land such a role especially as you hadn’t been training for as long as the talented people that you worked with. You were in the background most of the time, but you worked hard and decided that one day you would land more central roles.

Little did you know, you were already playing the central role of someone’s affections. You had long since heard the rumours. Of a monster or a spirit that haunted the opera house that you worked in.

He watched every performance you were cast in, from the shadows. There was little else for him to do but he found himself enjoying the way you moved. Held yourself. You weren’t like the others. Stuck up and taking themselves too seriously. You were real. You were going to be his.

You were in his dreams, in his every thought. Every evening he would look forward to the curtain call. To seeing your face once again from the box he reserved next to the stage. He loved the way your voice would carry, a melodic confession of love straight into his ears. He could pick your voice out above anyone else’s.

There had long since been rumours of the vampire of the opera. A demon that haunted the opera house. Hidden away from the rest of the world for reasons unknown. He used the audience as people he could feed from, his life blood. With the occasional rat if there was a quiet period. He lived in the underground dungeons, only coming out to catch a glimpse of you.

He would often leave you his handwritten poetry in your dressing room. The only contact you had with him throughout the last year. Describing the way you would glow. His affection growing every second he saw you. The way he watched you onstage, his eyes never able to move from your form.

One evening, you were feeling lonely. You heart aching for something you couldn’t yet put into words. You had no plans or anywhere to go after the performance. You absentmindedly looked towards the mirror and it was the first time you saw his face. There he was. Slicked back white blonde hair, a mask covering one half of his face and a long, cloak-like leather duster. He took your hand, through the mirror, bringing you below. To the place he called home. You were stood taking in your surroundings. It was an underground cave and you found yourself feeling at home. Because he was there. You were drawn to him, like a moth to a flame. Knowing you could get burnt at any moment. The potential danger rolling off him in waves. But the desire for his touch, his love was too strong.

Spike had now moved behind you, gripping your hips. His strong hands were now roaming over you. Your hips. Your thighs. He ran his hands over the material of your outfit, his body flush against yours as he spoke. You closed your eyes, relishing his touch. Leaning back, pressing your body into his as he whispered a string of hushed confessions into your ear, “Touch me, love. I need you to trust me… to devour this. The touch we share” You nodded, sighing at his words. Words you felt within your very soul. The words that had been written in the poetry left in your dressing room. It was him. His words. His love.

You were drawn to him. Your feelings bubbling towards the surface as his passionate embrace swelled your affections further. He spoke lowly in your ear, “I’ve seen you, where your heart lies. I know you now, you belong here in the dark with me” he insisted, “Let your darker side give in, love” He pressed this into your skin with a kiss against your pulse point. You shivered, leaning your head back against him. Leaning the side of your face against his.

The sensual touch making you bite back a moan. You reach up to the side of his face with one hand, his form still behind you. You moved your hands, resting on your body and he swiftly moved both of his hands to rest over yours. His eyes closing briefly at the pure pleasure he felt at having you here, responding to his pleas. His passionate demonstration of his feelings. He felt so deeply for you. Would kill for you.

You felt yourself wanting to stay with him. Wanting to embrace the darkness, so long as it meant being by his side. You nodded softly and his undead heart rose. His eyes widened slightly in wonder, searching your face to confirm this further. You gave him a tight-lipped smile and moved from his hold slightly. You walked around, with him closely following, exploring the underground that he had now made into a home.

You moved the curtain as he spoke lowly, telling you of the affection he had held for you since he had seen your face. When you opened the curtain, you were staring back at you. A doll with your face. A life-like figure. He had designed a version of you. To keep him company. You didn’t know whether to weep or embrace him once more. Instead, you merely gasped in shock, falling back against him. Fainting. He pulled you into him, carrying you toward his bed. It was grand, but you didn’t see it until you woke.

He stroked the side of your face as you slept, his blue eyes scanning your form. He had dreamt of you in his bed, longed to see you this way. He lingered for a moment before he left you to rest, drinking from his bottle of liquor and moving away to a different part of the dungeon to give you some space.

 When you woke and walked towards him, he was hunched over his desk, feverishly writing. He could sense your movement and he relaxed when he heard that your footsteps were slowly coming towards him rather than running away. You run your hands along his shoulders, he closed his eyes at your touch. He had dreamt of you for so long. You pressed your face against his once more. This time, it was the side that held the mask. You frowned, moving back slightly and peeling away the mask. You slowly take the mask from the side of his face. He snarled, almost overturning the desk. Turning swiftly and pushing you from his face, the mask still in your hand. He growls as he pushes you away. You land on the floor, eyes widened in horror at his temper.

“You stupid-! You bloody horrible– is this what you wanted? To laugh? To jeer at the monster?” He shouted, “Oh yeah that’s right, everyone look at Spike and his hideous demon half” he continued, kicking at the metal gates in the corner of the room. He was covering one side of his face as he spoke, but you could see the fangs now on that side of his face.

You pulled yourself back to your feet, the mask still in your hand. You could see that his eyes cast towards you, pain in his features as he saw what you did. He expected you to turn and walk away, although he wasn’t sure he would be able to let you walk off. Instead, you surprised him. You move back to his side instantly, willing him to feel your comfort.

“You’re not a monster, you could never be a monster to me” You say softly, swept up in the passion that never dissipated, “Your words are so beautiful, no doubt your heart is too. I can feel it”

“Oh yeah?” He raised his eyebrow, moving his hand away to prove you wrong. You saw his face, one half of his face had been twisted. He was paler, with purple veins lightly showing on the side of his face. Contorted at the forehead that was ridged and textured in a way that stuck out. There was also a piercing yellow eye now evident where you hadn’t noticed one before.

You reached to touch the roughly textured but he grabbed your wrist, a firm grip keeping your hand in mid-air. You take an intake of breath, shuddering at his cold touch only in temperature. But the warmth that spread through you from this action was one that couldn’t be denied. You shook your head softly and he released your wrist, allowing you to continue.

To anyone else, it may be shocking, grotesque even. But you stared in a way that could only be described as lovingly. He had cowered slightly, waiting for you to laugh. To begin to make fun of him for both his affection and his form. His insecurity had gotten the better of him again.

You reached to stroke his face and this time he let you. Your hand contacted his face, running gently over his forehead. You had expected it to be rough, but it was smooth like the rest of his face. You stroked him softly your touch feather-light. The adoration evident to him. 

“I love you, y/n”

“I love you too, Spike. I’ll never stop” you confirmed. Everything had moved so fast but if this was what love was you wanted more of it. You wished to drown in it by his side. You leaned in and pressed a kiss to his forehead, to that side of his face.

As you leaned in again, he moved so that his lips were now hungrily on yours. Parting your lips, moving urgently against you. His lips felt so good you never wanted to break apart from him. It was a revelation, his love pouring into you. His hold on you tightening as your emotional attachment grew further. Your lips on his feverishly, willing him to feel the honesty of your love. The intimacy that both of you had longed for for what felt like your whole lives. The amorous exchange becoming increasingly desperate. Both of you swept in the passion of the moment. In the attraction you couldn’t escape.

He pressed you against the wall, pulled you to the side. Moving your head so your neck exposed to him. He landed a kiss along your neck before he moved back. His fangs more visible as he held you in place, his hand firmly in the crook of your neck. You gasped and he gripped you tighter. Pulling you into him as he pierced your skin. His fangs sinking into the side of your neck. He drank deep. Your blood slowly dripped down your neck as he tasted you.

Now you would be his, forever.

[sunnyscribble]

Et Pater Filium

Artemis is always bored during his father’s meetings.

They sit across the room from him, his father and another man. Their eyes gleam in the dark office, each going over numbers, figures, schemes to grow in wealth. Artemis knows the answers to their calculations before they do, but he knows he is not supposed to speak them. Father has told him to sit and listen- “learn to do business” as if Artemis has not already demonstrated an intellect that will soon outshine even his father’s.

He finds himself wishing he was at his mother’s side. While Mother was never entirely attentive, he knew that she would at least pretend to understand what he was saying, and nod along for a while- at least until Father entered the room, and her scarce attention would be snatched elsewhere again.

Perhaps when this meeting was over, he could find Butler. He always seemed to have time to listen to Artemis’s visions, even if he never quite grasped what he was talking about.

No longer listening to the two men talk business, Artemis twines his hands together, allowing his focus to drift elsewhere. No matter what Father would say, he would learn nothing here.

————

The lights of the stage are dazzling, and his fingers grip the violin bow tighter as it slides across the strings, filling the air with the notes of his latest composition.

The audience sits in silence- even the most dull of his classmates’ families seemed to be enraputured. While his chosen talent was hardly the most original, Artemis knew he had more skill when it came to the arts than any other child in his school. He supposes that he must sound quite good- he had practiced a lot at the Manor(enough that Father had demanded he do so outside) and Butler, ever the listening ear, had nothing but positive comments.

And yet, he is not satisfied.

Because once more, the same as every previous performance, neither Father nor Mother was there. Their empty seats stood unfilled, and he found himself mourning how little he saw them lately. He had assumed, incorrectly, that they would come, if for no other reason than to brag the talents of their son. But alas, it seems, as usual, their focus lies elsewhere. On matters other than him. He would be lying if he said it did not sting a little.

As if by magic, his interest in his performance withers, and he continues to play the music with nothing but a hollow feeling in his chest.

The auditorium would soon be packed, seeing as he was only the first musician scheduled, but he doubted he would be staying long once he finished. Butler would already have the car pulled up- what reason did he have to stay?

Perhaps Juliet would like to hear him play.

————

The Manor sits heavy against the cloud-scudded sky, rain pattering off the stones, and Artemis can feel the sadness emanating through the halls.

In his hand is clutched an old, leather-bound book of Irish fairytales, the text long since worn from its cover. It feels warm in his hands- he holds it tighter, the memory of the one who gave it to him almost too strong to bear.

He can see Father out of the corner of his eye, slumped in an armchair, head in his hands. Mother is nowhere to be seen- he supposes she has gone back to her work helping others. A sour feeling settles in his stomach.

Artemis stands, slowly making his way over to his father. The man looks more empty than he has ever seen him, his hair unkempt and his suit slightly wrinkled. It is so unlike his father that Artemis briefly wonders if his father will take ill from the ordeal, and if he should find the Major and express his concern. The older man had always trusted Artemis’s word, much more than Father, and he would know what to do. The Butlers seemed to have a much better grasp on emotion than any of the Fowls.

But the Major was not there, so Artemis would have to suffice.

“Father?”, he whispers, careful not to raise his voice. He doesn’t want to sound upset, or distressed. That was unlike a Fowl. “Are you alright?”

Artemis Sr. raises his head, his normally bright stare dull and grieved as it meets Artemis’s own. He doesn’t answer, instead turning his gaze to the smoldering fireplace. Artemis found himself feeling uncharacteristically useless.

“Do... Do you want this?”

He holds out the book, wondering if his father would find any comfort in the tales it told. If Grandfather had taken such joy out of reading the stories to his grandson, certainly he had shared them with Father.

He realizes his mistake when Artemis Sr.’s face sharpens like flint. He turns to glare at the item with an expression of fury. Taken aback, Artemis flinches. Seemingly without thought, his father sneers.

“Oh. Of course he gave you that.”

Artemis blinks, startled, pulling the proffered book back. His father’s gaze is cold and derisive, glaring at the tome as if it was the lowest thing on Earth. Artemis tucks it against his chest, suddenly protective; he knows now what this will be about.

“As if you need any more of that nonsense filling your brain.”

Artemis winces, blue eyes immediately flicking elsewhere. Now is not the time for this, and Artemis briefly wishes Butler was around; it had been foolish to send him away. Now there was no one around to prevent the inevitable argument.

For a glimpse of a second, he considers backing down. It’s late, he’s exhausted, and they are both grieving. They are both Fowls. There is no chance that there will be a winning side.

But Artemis is nothing if not stubborn, and he is hurt. He is angry, and he opens his mouth to argue.

“I hardly think stories based upon ancient mythology are nonsense, Father. Not that I’d expect you to understand.”

Artemis knows it is unfair to be angry with his father. They are both distraught, grief-stricken people, who by all accounts should be finding comfort in each other.

Artemis Sr. sighs, voice dripping with disdain.

“You’re right, Artemis. I don’t. I don’t, and I’m disappointed that you do. Always spouting nonsense about ‘fairies’ and ‘elves’- you have such a wonderful mind, Arty, and all you do is waste it.”

Artemis shrinks back, brow furrowing. He presses the book against his chest. His father’s words hurt.

“I’m not... That’s not true.”

His father’s eyes narrow, turning back to the fire. Dismissive. Artemis can feel his anger begin to boil over.

“I never should have let him fill your head with such idiotic stories.”, his father continues. “You shouldn’t be interested in anything but the family business, you are a Fowl, but no, it’s always fairy tales and engineering and violin music at six in the morning! I didn’t raise you up on childish things-“

“Sometimes I think you haven’t ‘raised’ me at all.”

The venomous words escape him before he can reign them in. Artemis takes another step back, his anger burned away. He feels hollow and ashamed and exhausted and wounded- Far, far too many feelings to be dealing with at once.

Artemis Sr. stiffens, but his ice-cold gaze does not turn from the fireplace, hands clasped in front of his face. Artemis can see his knuckles are white. He wishes he would look at him.

“I... I’m sor-“

“That’s enough, Artemis.”

His father’s voice sounds so angry, so cold, that Artemis feels the apology die in his throat. He steps back once, and then again, turning on his heel. He flees the room, something breaking in his chest, with his father only continuing to stare emptily into the fire.

He leaves the book on the table.

————

Artemis is twelve now.

His violin sits abandoned, dusty, untouched in years. Though Artemis’s fingers occasionally twitch with the urge to play the compositions that fill his mind at night, he abstains. There is no enjoyment in it anymore, he has no time for silly music. A useless hobby that only crowded his time, distracting him from more important matters.

He passes his mother’s room, careful to keep his footsteps light. He didn’t want to disturb her. Angeline barely slept these days, and recognized him even less, so he didn’t bother with stepping in to check on her. Butler insisted it was Juliet’s job now, and Artemis agreed. It was better for the both of them.

He nods at Butler as he passes by. The bodyguard, ever vigilant, nods back with a small smile. Artemis enters his office, shaking off the early morning chill of the Manor, and sits in front of the countless monitors that line the desk. The light is harsh in the gloom of the space, and he winces briefly, before turning his attention to the lines of text scrolling across the monitor to his right.

Business appears to be good, with all of the more urgent emails answered the night before. Nothing important there. The cameras viewing the Manor grounds look normal, with nothing out of place. His mother’s huddled form can be seen on one of the darker screens, and he sighs. At least she’s sleeping.

The screen behind him drones quietly, and Artemis tries his best to ignore it. If his father was found, he would be the first to know, but that didn’t mean he could waste his time staring at the news all day. Family business was more important. The ever-increasing acquisition of funds was more important.

With nothing important to attend to, he allows his focus to slide, knowing that any attempts to redirect his attention will be useless. His head feels full of static.

Before, it was visions of grand machines, calculations that stretched on and on into the metaphorical distance. Of music spilling over the pages, notes that filled the air with a cacophony of beautiful sound. Now, he found himself quelling these thoughts on instinct, seemingly unable to find interest in them like he once did. His mind was colorless and devoid of anything but the tasks of the day, each centered around maintaining the little empire his father worked so hard to build.

He misses them. He misses enjoying those things, as childish as it was. His world felt boring, stressful, and empty now. While the Butlers provided a little light, some days it was all Artemis could do to leave his bed. How unlike a proper Fowl.

He feels no pride in the family name these days.

On impulse, he opens the drawer, rummaging around for clean paper and a pen. Might as well work ahead if he had nothing better to do. He pauses when his hand brushes against something, small and familiar.

Artemis carefully pulls out the book, running his fingers over its leathery surface. A small flicker of warmth fills his chest as he briefly remembers the man who gave it to him. It wanes as he then remembers the day he lost it. He had never been able to find it again, after that argument.

The pages are worn. Artemis opens the cover, the paper smooth under his fingers. It had been so long since he bothered to read something other that documents.

Father would be disappointed. Artemis knew that, and it stung deeply. That fact stung so bad it nearly brought tears to his eyes.

But Artemis was so tired of being a stereotypical Fowl. He wanted his curiosity, his ambition back, and as much as he would deny it, a small part of him still very much believed in the stories that that little book told.

It was childish. It was ‘nonsense’. But nevertheless, Artemis began to read.

————————

@xxfangirlanonymousxx asked to be tagged, so here!

[ace-in-a-shopping-cart]

Day 19

Prompt: Everyone is born with a compass on their wrist, the needle of the compass points towards your soulmate.

Word Count: 2,161

Main Taglist: (Send an ask to be added or removed!) @starlocked01,​​​ @spoopy-turtle,​​​ @lizluvscupcakes,​​ @more-fandon-than-friends​, @i-cant-find-a-good-username, @vindicatedvirgil, @star-crossed-shipper, @justaqueercactus, @gayboopnoodle, @sanderssidesweirdo, @the-sympathetic-villain, @8-writes, @lizzy-lineart, @battlebunnyteardropsinthesun, sirprplsnail

Soulmate taglist:(Send an ask to be added or removed!) @elizabutgayer, @melodiread, @tsshipmonth2020, @mikalya12, @8-writes, @lizzy-lineart

Virgil’s thumb ran over the compass needle, comforted by the raised skin telling him he wasn’t alone. For as long as he’d been aware of it, he’d loved it. Loved knowing there was someone on the other end of it, loved knowing he wasn’t trudging through life alone, that no matter how broken and messed up he thought he was there was always going to be someone out there destined to love him.

He was jostled out of his thoughts by the sound of someone calling his name. Looking up, he found it was his turn to present. He took a deep breath, let his thumb brush over the compass one last time, and moved to do it. Once he was up there, he performed with minimal flaws.

He collapsed back into his chair, mentally exhausted already and the morning wasn’t even over yet. He stared at his compass needle, watching the tip waver slightly but stay steady in the same direction, off to his right and behind him slightly. He smiled at the thought of his soulmate being the north for his compass.

He tuned back into the meeting as his supervisor stood. “Now, we’ve only got one last order of business.” Roman said, hands on his hips as he tried to grab everyone’s attention. “We have a new member on the development team so if you could all give him a warm welcome, that’d be appreciated.”

Virgil shrugged and clapped half-heartedly. A man stood as Virgil watched his compass shift, following the man’s movements as he made his way to the front of the room and stood beside their supervisor. He straightened his tie, allowing Virgil to notice that his compass was covered with a wide leather cuff. “Salutations. My name is Logan Kelsey and I’m pleased to have joined the team.”

An hour later, Virgil was staring at his wrist. He twisted in his chair, watching the needle swing back and forth, staying steady on Logan across the room. He still had Roman’s voice ringing in his ears, asking Virgil to partner with Logan for the project the man was already halfway done with, showing the new guy the ropes and all that.

The man that was now advancing across the room, straight for him. Virgil turned his wrist over and put it palm down on his leg. “Can I help you with anything, Kelsey?”

Logan nodded, looking down at him. “I’d like to begin working on the project now, if you have the time.”

Virgil smiled, swinging the chair around and scooting into the desk. “Sure! Pull up a chair while I get this set up.” He wiggled the mouse, causing the screen to power on. Clicking through a few files, he set up the next stages of what he’d been working on before the meeting.

A chair rolled over and Logan sat beside him, a notepad propped up on his knee and a pen in his hand. “You’re going to have to brief me on what you’re working on as I was given no directions on what I am to learn from you.”

Virgil nodded, picking up a pencil to twirl between his fingers. “I’m just working on a simple graphic at the moment. Really, this could have been done by one person.” He glanced to the side. “Are you working more on the graphics department or the slogans? I’m asking because you look like you belong in the finances department instead of down here with everyone else.”

Logan looked at him then, eyes dragging over Virgil’s frame. The emo felt like he was being judged, as if his comfortable hoodie and ripped jeans were suddenly inadequate to Logan’s slacks and dress shirt and tie. Logan shrugged. “I don’t see the problem. I didn’t know the dress code was more casual than other departments. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Virgil couldn’t help but let out a laugh at that. “No, there’s no dress code here.” He paused. “Do the other departments have dress codes?”

Logan bobbled his head. “Yes and no. They don’t have official dress codes but everyone is pretentious and stuck up so they think they’re better than everyone else and dress like it.”

Virgil nodded. “I like you better than I thought I would.”

Logan coughed into his fist, his eyes darting down to the notepad on his lap. “We should probably get started.”

“Right!” Virgil directed his gaze back to the screen and briefly ran over what he’d done to get to this stage of development for the ad before explaining his process as he did the next few parts.

The next day, they picked up from where they left off. Virgil pulled Logan into the decision making, asking him what colors he thought would contrast well and why, asking where he would put the text, and slowly getting him used to making these kinds of decisions himself.

Soon, a month and two projects had gone by. The pair had bumped into each other in the parking garage and rode the elevator up, talking about personal interests and other things. When they got to the floor, they were pulled into a meeting by Roman. Most of the team was already there with a few others trickling in around them. As they waited, the conversation turned to soulmates.

Logan nodded to Virgil’s wrist, the compass covered by a leather cuff since that first day. “May I ask why you decided to cover it?”

Virgil shrugged. “I met him already and I have no idea how he feels about me. So, I covered it. I’d rather be accused of having a broken compass than actually have a broken heart.”

Logan nodded. “I can understand that. I’ll admit, it scares me a little, knowing there’s someone the compass points to. So, I cover it, not wanting to look at it. I don’t know why I’m so scared of the inevitable.”

Virgil internally released a sigh of relief, knowing now why Logan covered his wrist. “It’s not like that for me. In the beginning, I was glad to have the compass. I have pretty bad anxiety so it was nice to be able to run my fingers over it and know someone was there for me, that someone would always be there on the other end, waiting just for me. Now that I’ve met him, I don’t think he’ll feel the same about it. So, I covered it.”

Before Logan could respond, Roman called the meeting to order. “So, it seems that Mr. Kelsey now knows what he’s doing when it comes to graphic design. Is that correct, Mr. Storm?”

Virgil nodded. “Sounds right to me, sir. He’s a fast learner and a hard worker.”

Roman nodded, smiling. “With that in mind, it’s time to say goodbye to Mr. Kelsey as he’s now off to the advertisement department.”

Virgil looked at his soulmate. “Is that true? You’re leaving us?” He shouldn’t feel so hurt or betrayed by this revelation but here he was, his heart feeling like it’d been torn to pieces.

Logan had an apology in his eyes that never made it past his throat as Roman called attention back to himself. “I know it’s sad to see him go. However, we have to realize that he was always going to be with us for a short time. We should learn to appreciate the time we’ve had with him.”

Virgil smiled, sadness lingering at the edges and tears damming behind his eyes. “Yeah, appreciate him.”

Logan looked over at him, probably wondering how he was, but Virgil turned away. He ignored the man for the rest of the meeting, focusing on keeping the tears inside and trying to pay attention to Roman.

When it was over, he was the first to leave. Before Logan came that wouldn’t be abnormal but ever since the other man had been there, Virgil had socialized a bit more, he’d become friends with Logan in a way he’d never done with anyone else. He’d trusted the man, not knowing he was leaving.

He walked away, the heels of his hands swiping at his eyes. He heard a voice behind him, someone calling his name, but he ignored it and continued on. He pushed through a door, not knowing where he was going. The voice sounded again but he was barely paying attention.  A hand landed on his shoulder, spinning him around as Logan said his name for the third time. 

“Virgil, is there something wrong?”

Virgil covered his face with his hands, knowing he was being childish. “No, nothing’s wrong.” He lied.

Logan’s hand stayed on his shoulder. “Then why won’t you look at me? Or even say goodbye to me?”

Virgil squeaked at the mention of his soulmate’s imminent departure. His hand fluttered, wanting to curl around Logan’s tie, wanted to keep him from leaving, but he knew that wasn’t an option. So, the hand never landed, just went to his side as the other hand stayed over his tear-tracked face.

Logan sighed, pulling him into a hug, one arm around his waist and the other hand cradling his head. “Talk to me, please.” His voice was a whisper in his ear, easily making itself heard over the roaring battle between fears in Virgil’s head.

Virgil leaned his head on Logan’s shoulder, the hand covering his face coming down to grip weakly at his own belt loop. He wanted to explain, to say he felt betrayed, but didn’t have the words. So, he stayed silent.

They stayed like that as Virgil’s tears slowly dried and his breathing went back to normal. Some time into the hug, Logan’s hand had started rubbing the length of Virgil’s spine in a soothing manner, the other hand staying still on his head. When Virgil’s breathing evened out, he felt Logan pull away, hands coming to cup the graphic designer’s face.

“Will you tell me what’s wrong?” His voice was still soft so Virgil wasn’t sure if he imagined the tone of impatience hidden beneath it.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving?” Virgil had no way of explaining his feelings, so he asked about the root cause of them instead.

Logan’s face revealed his surprise before it softened. “Don’t you remember? You were told at the very beginning that I was only here temporarily.”

Virgil thought back to that day, when he was still in love with the idea of a soulmate rather than actually in love with his soulmate. He had a vague memory of Roman mentioning a temporary member of the team. He felt heat rise to his cheeks as he knew this was his inability to listen correctly that had caused this. “Oh.”

Logan chuckled. “I’m sure this is also a communication error on my part. I should have told you rather than rely on Roman’s less than stellar memory.”

Virgil giggled softly as he used his hoodie sleeve to scrub at the salt crusted on his cheeks. “So, what do we do from here?”

Logan looked around. “Maybe we should go back to your desk and talk about why you had this reaction to news of me leaving. Besides, I’m not leaving until the end of the day anyways so we might as well get some work done.”

Virgil nodded and the pair headed back to Virgil’s desk. Virgil dabbed a bit of water from his thermos onto a nearby tissue and scrubbed the lingering salt from his cheeks. Logan sat silently and patiently, waiting for him. When that was done, Virgil stalled by booting up the computer and flicking open the files they’d need for the day. Logan softly said his name to get his attention.

Virgil sighed, his hand moving from the mouse to unlatch the cuff on his wrist. Logan watched, curiosity in his gaze. He revealed the back of his wrist and quietly muttered, “I got attached to you, you idiot,” before turning it to show him.

Logan pulled it closer, turning it left and right as he tried to see if it was true, that he was Virgil’s soulmate. At last, he put Virgil’s wrist down and unlatched his own cuff. He chuckled at Virgil’s words. “To tell the truth,” his voice was louder than Virgil’s but no less sincere, “I developed feelings for you as well.” He turned his wrist to show Virgil his compass, the needle firmly fixed on Virgil.

Virgil smiled but it was still tinged with sadness. “But you’re still leaving.”

Logan laughed, reaching to draw Virgil close, pressing their foreheads together. “Two floors up. I'm heading to advertisement.”

Virgil frowned. “What do you even do?”

“I survey the different departments to see how they use their budgets. I actually have an office three floors up.”

Virgil laughed, pushing his shoulder just hard enough to rock him but not enough to push him away entirely. “You jerk.” Still, he tilted his head for a kiss that was quickly granted.

[aquaticalay]

Siren .Chapter Five.

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes fancies you, a singer who performs at a local bar every Monday and Friday night. After a few months of attending your gigs, Bucky finally got the chance to talk to you. One problem: you are New York's sonic screaming vigilante. And the avengers have been trying to figure out who you are for months. (Post-Endgame)

Warning/s for this chapter : cursing, a teeny tiny bit of violence

Warning/s for the series: cursing, violence, eventual smut (which you can skip)

Word count: 1300+ 

Disclaimer: I do not own the Marvel characters. Note: I'm late again, I know. I reuploaded this a couple of times, but it still wouldn't show up in the tags. Just a heads up, if this doesn't show up in the tags again, I am deleting it again and trying agai tomorrow :'))))))

I will post a new chapter every two days. Let me know if you'd like to be on the taglist!

The next morning

"Buck, you need to calm down," Sam said, trying to help and cool the insatiable frustration of his friend. 

Bucky was pacing around the avenger's lounge, his metal fingers crushing a stainless steel water bottle, a physical manifestation of his anger. Sam, seated in the couch, felt like Bucky’s frustration was seeping off to him. It was almost contagious. The only person in the room who didn’t know what was going on was Scott, who just came back from a mission. He was munching on a tooth-ache sweet cereal in the island kitchen, and he was quietly eavesdropping on the Falcon and The Winter Soldier.

“No, Sam,” he breathed, “Whoever the Siren is, they couldn’t have gotten too far. Even if they did, they must’ve used something to get away, but I don’t see any signs of transport. No cars, no bikes.”

“Maybe they used the subway?” Scott chimed in, taking in a spoonful of colorful breakfast marshmallows.

Bucky laughed cynically, annoyed at Scott’s remark. “No, Scott,” he breathed out, “If I were an outlaw, the last thing I’d do was take public transport!” He exclaimed, and Scott was slightly taken aback.

"Well," Scott raised his eyebrows a little, chuckling, "Someone's grumpy."

Bucky finally sat down, "Sorry," he dragged the word halfheartedly, "I just— I need to do better if I want to find out who she is."

"She?" Sam glanced at Bucky curiously, "How did you know she's a she?"

Bucky looked like he just zoned out. Why did he say that?

"I… don't," he said, trying to figure out why he did what he did.

"You just assumed?" Sam asked, pressing the matter even further.

"No," Bucky shook his head, "I- I guess I have someone else on my mind."

"Who?" Sam raised his eyebrows. Bucky shook his head, "I bumped into someone on the mission. It's not important."

"Everything is important," Sam retorted, "because everything is a clue." Bucky only shrugged, "I ran into (Y/n)," he admitted, "The singer—"

"From the bar," Sam finished, rolling his eyes, "Yeah, I know. You told me a couple hundred times."

"What was she doing anyway?" Scott asked.

"She was going back home from a record store," Bucky answered.

Sam squinted his eyes, "I wasn't aware there were any record shops in that part of Brooklyn."

"Me neither," Bucky agreed, "Maybe they just opened." Bucky turned to Sam, "Anyway, did you find out anything about the gun?"

"The 19x?" Sam asked, "No, not yet. Friday's going to notify us when she finds anything. In the meantime, you should probably rest. In case we find any tracks on the Siren again."

Bucky nodded, knowing that when news of the Siren arrives, he has to be ready.

He escaped to his room to get some shut eye, but he can't help thinking of a certain someone he ran into last night. Their paths keep crossing. It can't be a coincidence, right? Bucky wasn't one to believe in fate, but maybe, just maybe…

Didn't (Y/n) say her band is going to perform tonight?

He grabbed his phone and googled her band name.

The Submariners.

The Mermaid's Tail website was the first search result, as they were a weekly act.

A few other bars were on the results. He scanned the page for a date or a day, anything to find out where they were performing today.

One website was out of place. Why did Viseur.com show up in the search results? 

Bucky knew Viseur. The Avengers just closed a deal with the company.

Yes, Viseur was a research company, but their recent weapon engineering breakthrough was so innovative, the Avengers had bought a couple hundred weapons, set to be delivered somewhere in the next three months.

Why was Viseur in the search results? It seemed too random, even for google.

He clicked on Viseur, but it only redirected him to their homepage. It didn't answer any questions.

Bucky shook his thoughts. 

The answer to this could wait. Now he had to try and find the gig.

-

"Nothing tonight?" You asked Lando.

You notice his haircut. He gave himself a buzzcut, his black hair almost blended with his dark skin. It looked a little too neat for his personality, but you're sure it'll grow back quickly. He gave you a confused look, "what do you mean? We've got a show in ten minutes."

You rolled your eyes, "The other thing."

Knowing what you mean, Lando shook his head. He chuckled under his breath, amused at how enthusiastic you always become when you put on the suit. It's almost as if you were born to become the figure behind the mask. "Give me a few days to decipher the data, then we'll decide what's next," he told you.

You nodded. Seeing Vince and Luna approach, you waved a little. There was something off about their demeanor, lime they were both surprised and concerned. As they were getting ready to go on stage, Luna bent down and placed her mouth next to your ear. "Loverboy's here."

You were confused at first, but you recognized the look on Luna's face. It was the same frozen, scrunched-up look she had when she found out that the mysterious man named James was The Winter Soldier.

Bucky's here.

"Fucking Christ," you curse. Lando raised his eyebrows, "what's up?" He asked. 

"I'll explain it to you later," you dismissed, "We're on in 3 minutes."

-

You hadn't been able to perform the way you usually do. Slightly less energetic, slightly less carefree. There was a voice at the back of your mind that kept reminding you that the man with the leather jacket in the back of the room, the man with the most charming smile in all of New York, was an Avenger hell-bent on hunting down your alter ego. And he was here because of you. Because of your playful games that you didn't think he'd take seriously.

After going off stage, instead of talking with your friends, you excused yourself to talk to Bucky. You had to do something about it, but you didn't know what. You had to think of something along the way.

"Hey," You heard him say as you approached him.

You managed a smile and sat at the stool next to him, "You came."

"I didn't have anything else to do," he shrugged. He tried to play his presence off as casual, but you know there was something else. His hair was tied to a bun, making him only slightly less recognizable. If anyone did recognize him, they didn't care. A few strands of hair were lazily left out, framing his sharp features perfectly. He was still wearing his gloves, covering his metal arm.

"Really? No schedule for kicking bad guys ass?" You teased, once again easing into his conversation as if he baited you into it. You had to find a way to tell him softly not to go to your shows anymore without making anything suspicious, but you're not sure how. And not that you're face to face with him, you're not quite sure you have the heart to. You're not sure if you want to.

Bucky chuckled, "No, unfortunately," he leaned his arm on the counter, "Have you had dinner, by the way?" He asked, catching you off guard.

"No, why?" You decided to say, mildly surprised.

"I know a nice restaurant a few blocks away," he offered, "We could get something to eat together."

What? 

Your intention was to make things right somehow, but now he's asking you out?

"I…" you trailed off, trying to calculate the risks. One time can't hurt right? 

You shrugged, a convincing smile painted on your face, "Why not?"

-

As you exit the bar with Bucky, you found yourself indulging in another conversation with the supersoldier. This was so fun. It was fun in the way becoming the siren was fun. It was risky and dangerous, that's what always appealed to you. Having an alter ego was wrong in all the right ways. Bucky felt so wrong in all the right ways. You could never turn down situations like these. It was a challenge you can't say no to. 

You felt your phone vibrate. Looking to see who it was, you read the contact name.

It was Lando. You decided to hang up. Soon after, your phone vibrated again. You checked one more time. It was a text from Lando.

'What the hell are you doing?' It read. He had always been the caretaker of the group, the person who kept you in check when you go too far. You knew he was either angry or worried, if not both. You weren’t quite sure if you should care.

"Something wrong?" Bucky asked worriedly after noticing your eyes glued to the phone.

"No," you lied, turning off your phone completely. 

You've broken so many of your own rules for Bucky in the short span of two days, but just one dinner can't hurt, right?

-

@thejourneyneverendsx @ispepeagain @magykal-777 @sfxsucker @moli1497 @justanothergirlwithdemons @ciochesono @allonszassbutt @hennessy0274-blog @chubby-dumplin @talk-geek-to-me @sebastian-i-stan @iwishthatiwasbuckysgirl @thelureabove @womanontheedgeofnothing @snugglemedaddy @perrythefrickinplatypus @missursulacalmet @angryknightstatesmantrash @tintinnabulary

[ubernoxa]

A Stupid Dare - Chapter 11: A Pair of Idiots 

A Guns N’ Roses FanFic

Chapter Summary: Duff and Delilah being cute. That’s it. That’s the chapter

“Good morning,” Delilah woke to Duff’s hot breath on her back.

“Good morning, Duffles,” Delilah giggled back at Duff’s confused reaction.

“Duffles?”

“Yeah, Duffles,” Delilah replied messing up his already messy bleached puff of hair.

“I’m gonna go make some breakfast,” Delilah wiggled her way out of Duff’s arms. Once she stood up she immediately felt Duff pull her back down.

“Hey!” Delilah squealed as she fell back onto the mattress.

“What’s up?” Duff asked as he wrapped his arms gently around her waist and rested his chin on her shoulder.

“Hopefully the roof, I’m not a fan of getting rained on,” Delilah replied earning a chuckle from Duff and a frustrated groan from Slash.

“Sorry I didn’t mean to wake you,” Delilah said as Slash’s eyes fluttered open.

“It’s okay,” He lied as he rolled over and covered his head with a pillow.

Once he heard her leave, Slash threw his pillow over towards where Duff sat.

“what the fuck!” Duff easily caught the pillow that was thrown at him.

“I’m not saying that I want you two to have sex in your bed because I don’t wanna see that, but you seriously need to fuck her or something,” Slash said in a hushed tone, so Delilah wouldn’t hear him.

“Dude,”

“Seriously, it was absolutely painful watching you last night. Don’t get me started on this morning. How long were you watching her sleep. That’s creepy shit if I ever knew it,” Slash defensively held his arms up as he spoke.

“Slash,” Duff sighed as he plopped back into his.

“I don’t care how fuckin cute she looks. Just fuck her. Fuck her then date her. Date her and then fuck her. I don’t care just do something. If you won’t I will,” Duff threw the pillow back at Slash nailing him in the face.

“Chill out Duff, I’m only fucking with you. Just be more blunt with her about your intentions,,” Slash laugh before rolling back and went back to sleep.

Delilah stood in the kitchen searching through the cabinets hoping to find something to make for breakfast for the guys.

“Looking for something?” Delilah almost jumped as someone wrapped their arms around her waist.

“Food,” Delilah’s words were no louder than a whisper.

“What are you making?” Duff quickly opened the fridge to look through the food that Mags and the other girls had bought for them.

“I don’t know, maybe breakfast bowls?”

“Delly, what’s that?” Delilah’s heart skipped a beat when she heard him call her Delly.

“Well Duffles,” she paused and looked at the sly grin that was plastered on his face. She smiled to herself as she noticed that he might actually like her nickname for him. Little did she know that Duff would let her call him anything.

“A breakfast bowl is a bunch of random meat, potatoes, eggs, and vegetables. My brother and I would make it all the time back home. It looks like you don’t have any eggs, so random meat and potatoes it is,” Delilah shrugged as she found a bag of potatoes in a random cabinet.

She looked cute with her hair an absolute mess. Duff gently tucked a long strand of hair behind her petite ear. They locked eyes for a moment and both of them froze.

Delilah was panicking. She was internally screaming. Should she say something? Should she mess with his hair? Should she go and cook?

“Hey Del, are you making us food?” Axl’s words caused Delilah to take a step away from Duff and turn towards Axl. It was like the spell that had been casted over her and Duff had been lifted.

“Breakfast bowls,” Delilah smiled when she received a smile from him.

“Duff, are these potatoes good? Or have they gone bad?” Delilah rambled as she handed one of the potatoes to Duff. He immediately sniffed it and shrugged.

“Seem fine to me,” he shrugged back to Delilah.

“What do you ever know about potatoes?” The words sounded sour as they left Axl’s mouth. He clearly wasn’t a morning person.

“They don’t give the last name McKagan to the French,” Duff cockily replied.

———-

Delilah stood in Mag’s bathroom staring at her reflection. If only her parents could see her now, a smirk unknowingly formed on her lips.

“You should wear this,” Mags handed Delilah a ‘skirt’ as Mags called it.

“Mags this ‘skirt’ is barely longer than the one I wore when we first met,” Delilah protested as she held the fabric in her hands.

“This skirt, unlike the fabric you wore that night we met, is form fitting and won’t flash every living soul,” Mags quickly rebuttaled as she walked into the bathroom.

“Why can’t I wear pants?” Delilah wined leaning back on the toilet.

“Because it’s going to be 104 degrees Fahrenheit out tonight. I dont want you to pass out or melt from the heat!”

“Don’t underestimate me, I once wore a floor length dress with long sleeves in 90 plus degree weather,” Delilah teased back earning a laugh from Mags.

“Oh Honey,” Mags shouted emphasizing the O in honey.

“Unless your dress was made of leather, it’s not comparable. Your dress let your skin breathe. You will BOIL if you wear those pants. I love you Del but COME ON,” Mags replied as she comically waved her arms in the air for added dramatic effect.

“Plus girl you got legs that are to die for. Why not show them off?” Mags added earning a smile from Delilah.

“Fine!” Delilah agreed and put on the skirt. Even though this skirt was only a little longer than her old one, she almost felt comfortable in it.

“So who is Motley Crue?”

“They are the band the boys are opening for tonight. They are all borderline insane and from some of the shit I see them pull, I don’t know how they are still alive,” Mag’s laughter filled the bathroom where the two of them were getting ready.

“Oh,” was all Delilah could reply.

“This one guy Nikki, I have seen him light himself on fire both on stage and at parties. Im also pretty sure their guitarist is a vampire or alien or something. Their singer is hot though, but he knows it. I honestly don’t remember the last time I saw him without a girl literaly swooning over him. Their drummer is a sweetheart at times though, BUT those are the ones you gotta watch out for. They are a little much for me, so I usually stay away from them,” Mags focuses on the mirror as she spoke trying to fix her makeup. She wanted to look perfect for Derek tonight. Also known as the guy who she has been spending every other night with. She was excited to introduce him to Delilah and Stevie.

“A little much?”

“They make great music, but they are comple sleze bags too. The Nikki guy who lights himself on fire, he is the worst,” Mags added leaving the bathroom leaving Delilah alone.

“Hey it’s my favorite girls!” Delilah smiled as Stevie hugged the two of them as they entered the back stage area.

“Wow this place is nice,” Mags commented on the clean doors and mirrors. On top of everything there were even multiple rooms backstage.

The girls quickly followed Stevie who was in no way sober to a door that had a piece of torn paper with Guns N’ Roses written on it in sloppy handwriting.

“Look what the trash dragged it!” Stevie yelled as he walked into the small room.

“Cat not trash Stevie. Nice try though. It might help next time if you were a little less drunk,” Mags teased.

Everyone was sitting around drinking, well everyone except Axl and Izzy.

“Hey Delly!” Delilah smiled at Duff who motioned for her to come sit next to him. She walked over towards him without hesitation and plopped down next to him. To say she had been waiting all afternoon to see him was an understatement. She even wrote a couple of puns to hopefully get a laugh out of Duff.

Mag quickly shot her brother a raised eyebrow as she watched Delilah or ‘Delly’ sit next to Duff who immediately shrugged and sat down next to Slash. He loved his sister dearly, but he wasn’t gonna cock block his band mate for the rest of his life. He tried, but some things will always find a way. Atleast it was Duff and not Axl.

“So are you girls coming to the party tonight,” Slash asked only shortly realizing what was going on. He was too preoccupied with his guitar earlier.

“Party?” Delilah asked as Duff pulled Delilah onto his lap earning a glare from Mags.

“Yeah with Crue. They always have these big parties at their place after they play. Are you coming?” Duff asked as he mindlessly played with her hair.

“Mags you going?” Delilah asked across the room.

Mags wanted nothing more than to say no, and forbid Delilah from going. She sighed. She wasn’t Delilah’s Mom and it wasn’t her place. The least she could do was look after the girl.

“Hell yeah” Stevie turned towards his sister, and this time it was his turn to send a confused look her way. Mags hated the boys of Motley Crue more than she hated Axl. Why did she agree to go?

Little did he know that Mags wanted to yell no. She wanted to ‘forbid’ Delilah from going because she knew what happened at those parties, but she couldn’t. If she said no it would bring both unwanted drama and stores she would have to share which she was in no mood to share, so she agreed to go. At least this way she could also keep an eye on Delilah.

—————

“You were amazing!” Delilah cheered as Duff and the rest of the guys walked in from the stage.

“Not tooo shabby!” Mags gave her brother a hug after a performance well done not giving a care in the world about him being drenched in sweat. She was proud. It was about time that all of his hard work was paying off.

Stevie and Mags led their small group back to their room backstage or as Delilah earlier called it the kingdom of booze.

Before Delilah could walk away and meet up with Mags at the front of the line she felt Duff’s fingers intertwine with hers. She froze and shot a confused looked towards him.

“Come Delly, walk with me,” he whispered into her ear before placing his cowboy hat onto her head. She looked even cuter with the giant smile that formed on her face. She was beautiful.

She obliged. Her heart felt like it was going to explode. She assumed only drunk Duff saw her as attractive, and sober Duff only saw her as a friend, nothing more.

“Did ya like the show?”

“Yeah, I just told you I did Duffy,” she giggled back.

“Well I like you saying that you liked the show,” his smile was setting her heart on fire. Butterflies were causing chaos in her stomach as she tried to form some sort of reply.

“Hey, did you hear about the new restaurant on the strip? It’s called Karama and they don’t have a menu!” Delilah asked Duff mentally preparing herself to make sure she didn’t mess up the joke.

“How do you know what to order?” Duff asked curious into where she was going with this.

“There’s no menu because you get what you deserve,” the two of them laughed like idiots.

Izzy and Duff groaned as they heard Delilah’s pun. “Ohh God it’s a match made in hell,” Izzy muttered under his breath so only slash could hear.

“What’s that?” Mags asked as she pointed to Duff and Delilah holding hands.

“My bassist and your friend,” Stevie causally replied as he poured himself a drink waiting for her to freak out.

“Were you...I don’t know...supposed to cock block him and your entire band?” Mags sarcastically asked stealing her brother’s drink. Was she happy? No. Not even in the slightest.

She then watched as Duff and Delilah walked in giggling about what Mags could only assume to be one of his stupid puns. That’s when her heart melted a little. Only a couple of hours ago was Delilah on the verge of tears about leaving her family and her old life behind.

Stevie smiled as he noticed Mags relax when Duff and Delilah walked into the room laughing and giggling without a care in the world. How was he supposed to keep those two apart? Hell he would bet that they would lighten a dark room.

“Well I did at first, but this isn’t what happened last time. From what I heard they’re taking it slow. Duff might do stupid things, but I trust him to watch over her. He’s a good guy. Plus how am I supposed to keep those two apart,” Stevie pointed over towards Delilah who currently had a strand of Duff’s hair places above her upper lip like a mustache. They were acting like a pair of idiots.

Mags remained silent as she watched the two of them giggle. Delilah needed this. Mags knew Delilah needed someone to distract her and cheer her up, but she just wished it could have been her instead of Duff.

“Hey Mags,” Delilah shouted across the room noticing her friends saddened mood. Delilah went to return Duff’s hat, bur he quickly gave it back to her whispering into her ear, “Delly this looks way better on you,” followed by a quick kiss on her cheek. He could feel Mags stares across the room.

“Wanna go and listen to the show?” Delilah added as she finished her drink and walked over towards Mags who quickly followed her. Delilah was hoping that watching Motley Crue would raise Mag’s spirit. She hated seeing Mags down.

The two girls walked towards the stage. The original plan was to watch the show from the audience, but Mags quickly changed her mind when she noticed how packed the bar was. She always admired Crue fans, but they were ‘alot’ and Mags didn’t want Delilah to feel uncomfortable. She heard that a could girls were taking their bras off and throwing them at Vince during the show. They found a spot backstage where they could clealy hear the music while keeping out of the groupie’s way.

About half way through the set, Mags finally got the courage to ask Delilah the question that had been burning at her, “so you and Duff?”

“I have no idea. He so sweet and kind and funny, but I don’t know if he likes me back. What if he is just being nice?”

Mags laughed at Delilah’s cluelessness. “Del, first off he calls you Delly. He is making lists of real bad puns and jokes for you to laugh at. Don’t get me started on the way he looks at you,” Delilah blushed at Mag’s words even though they came out more of frustrated than sweet.

Mags froze for a second and wondered if Duff was Delilah’s first crush. She never heard Delilah once mention any guys outside her ex fiancé.

“So you’re not a fan of Duff,” Delilah raised her eyebrow.

“Ugh, how do I explain it,” Mags grunted and leaned back against the wall.

“He is going to be a rockstar. I’ve been on this strip long enough to know what happens here,” Mags watched as all of the excitement that once filled Delilah evaporate. Mags was mentally scolding herself. Why did her mouth deceive her like that?

“I just thought,” Mags watched as Delilah pull her knees into her chest.

“Well how about we make a deal,” Mags paused waiting for Delilah to look up.

“A deal?”

“You can date Duff, but if he hurts you I will beat the living hell out of him,” Delilah nodded and laughed as Mags hugged her.

“Come on let’s get back to the guys, cow girl. There is a huge after party that you are not going to want to be sober for,” their laughter filled the hallway as the walked back towards the room.

[runin-reads]

❛ under my umbrella ❜

— tendou x reader oneshot

W/C: 1.5 k

TAG(S): @mushfairy​ since this is a collab with her!

SYNOPSIS: “So what do you say, Sa-to-ri? You up for the challenge?

“You’re on”, he replies with a grin.

In which you jokingly challenge Tendou to perform in the up-coming talent show. You don’t think he’s actually going to do it, and Tendou is hell bent on proving you wrong. 

Inspired by this song and performance

Breathe, you’ve got this.

Tendou is out backstage, waiting his turn to perform for the long-anticipated talent show. The other dancers, both male and female, are waiting alongside him, waiting with bated breath. The vocalists, the bands, and the stand-up comedians have already performed. There’s only one more performance from the martial arts committee to really get the adrenaline pumping within the audience. After they finish, Tendou and the rest of the Miyagi City Dance Crew would debut to the awaiting crowd. 

He catches your eye from a gap between the curtains from where you’ve just been seated at the front row, and he thinks he’s not doing a bad job at facing your challenge.

“And up next, it’s the Miyagi city dance crew, dancing to singing in the rain by Gene Kelly,” the announcer declares. 

Make the audience yours. Dance as if you own the stage and the complete attention of the people watching you.

There was a silence… and then the curtains were drawn. 

There he is, Tendou Satori in the flesh, wearing a pinstripe suit and a smart, wide brimmed hat. The music playing was cheerful and vintage, the smooth, velvety vocals echoing through the stage as he skipped about with a spring in his step and hand on his hat. He knows this is just the beginning. He does a good job at spinning around and tapping his feet, putting on a show for all eyes to see. Underneath his hat, his eyes are shining. Underneath the grip of his hand, is an umbrella.

The music changes. It changes into a steady beat led by percussion that duels with breath-taking vocals, as lights flash and fellow dancers in black bodysuits come on stage from the sides. The song that’s playing now is Umbrella by Rihanna, and when Tendou comes out from behind a wall of umbrellas --that are held courtesy of his teammates-- his suit is off, he has the same umbrella in hand, and on his body? A fucking leather bodysuit that ends mid-thigh.

He looks like a hired dancer for a private show. Along his shoulders are thin leather straps attached to an equally as black tank top, leading down to shiny shorts that streamline his body and draws attention to his actions in a way that the old volleyball uniform fails to do; tight enough to showcase his figure, not enough to restrict movement. There are frills along the hem of the shorts that put emphasis on his legs, the same legs that are covered in fishnets that lead down to black ankle boots. The lingering stares he earns makes him feel like a palace courtesan from a time long gone, but that doesn’t matter right now.

Make the audience yours. 

Tendou repeats the words in his head, and does exactly that.

The crowd is already cheering, high-pitched whistles and excited whoops that get drowned out by the music. Tendou starts strutting to the beat and steps into a new persona. Tonight he isn’t the ex- middle blocker of one of the best volleyball teams of the nation; he's just Tendou Satori, a red-haired dancer tasked with making the entire venue fall to their knees. 

With the electrifying music that’s just the right blend of passion and longing, he turns his body into a weapon of well-practiced moves, a weapon of seduction set to kill. He doesn’t have time to contemplate the wide-eyes of his friends, or the way his movement made your jaw drop -- because whatever it is you’re feeling at the moment, he doesn’t think it’s disgust.

Instead, he throws himself into his dancing, as if he was part of the dance club he teamed up with, as if he was born to move for his lover, for you and only you. His legs strut to the music and his hips move like even Shakira can’t match his tempo. He’s constantly on the move, dropping down to run a hand up his leg, throwing his head back and moving his torso to do a complete body roll that’s directed towards flushed faces and parted mouths. He’s spinning the umbrella between nimble fingers, and holding that same umbrella between his legs as he sways his body to the beat.

He falls deeper into the mania of the performance. He dances in sync with the rest of the crew. The flashing lights and the roaring crowds become a blur once he really gets into it; it’s as if he’s in his world, it’s as if the only spotlight is on him and you and whatever lies in between. Tendou wants to cross that distance, and so he does. 

“You can run into my arms

it’s okay don’t be alarmed

come into me…”

Rihanna sings with a voice that’s straight from the heart, and as if on cue he cat-walks to the edge of the stage where you’re sitting close-by, he does so with his head thrown back and his glistening neck on display. His arms are wide open as if sending an invitation:

Are you really that unaffected? Why don’t we find out, he seems to say, even with his mouth shut and in the form of a tantalizing grin. 

He doesn’t look for an answer to this question. Rather, he drops to the ground, onto his back, and arches his back upwards in order to feel the burn of leather across his ribs. His eyes flit to your face, he sees the stiffness in your jaw, sees your knuckles clutching onto the armrests for dear life, sees your usual icy eyes and is faced with nothing but fire. He doesn’t glance at your face again, he lets you burn. He slinks back into the formation, and continues his performance. In the background, Rihanna continues her heartfelt singing:

“So gon' and let the rain pour

I'll be all you need and more…”

Following the bellowing voice, the dance becomes more intense and all of a sudden there’s water pouring down, supplied from the special effects team. Tendou uses the water to his advantage, splashing it forward using his hand, slicking his hair back with the streams running down his body. 

He ends the routine with a forward flip onto his back that quite literally knocks the breath out of him and the people watching. There’s a definite roar as the audience responds, people screaming names, shouting their disbelief and throwing out compliments like it’s going out of style. He sits up as blasts of confetti are falling through the air, streams and whirlwinds of different colors obscuring his vision, yet the only color he can focus on is the red of your cheeks and your smile which may as well be a whole fucking rainbow on it’s own.

That’s enough, Tendou thinks. You’re all I needed to see.

Now that the performance is done with, there’s only one thing left to do:

He takes the umbrella that was lying on the floor, he opens it and holds it up his head. With a low bow to the audience, he links arms with his brothers and sisters in arms, and they saunter off of the stage. He feels eyes on the back of his neck and down the curve of his spine. Paired with the sweat on his back and water running down, it feels like he’s become one with the sky and rain. He sends one last lingering look towards you, and with a jerk of his head he manages to convey one simple message:

Meet me outside, I got something to say to you, and because the two of you are in sync, always will be and always have been, that’s exactly what you do. You meet him outside with butterflies in your stomach and your heart on your sleeve. When you finally spot him standing in a warm coat, comfy sweatpants and the same umbrella he used to perform in his hand. You move to make way towards him, only for Tendou to spot you first.

“Hey! So how was my performance, hm? Did ya like it? Did I blow your mind outta the water like I said I would?” he asks excitedly, and you watch with amusement as he waves wildly before making his way towards you. 

“I did this for you, ya know. Now do me a favor and can you actually get to the part where you praise me?” The look on his face as he says this is proud, yet underneath you can see a genuine desire to hear your thoughts and words of affirmation.

“You did fucking great, Sato-kun. You fucking killed it and I doubt there’s anyone out there that thinks otherwise.”  You say this with as much adoration as you can, and you stuff your hands in your pockets as he beams at the use of his nickname. 

The two of you start walking home side-by-side, the sound of his voice being enough to drown out the rain. At some point, the rain gets heavier and Tendou’s only response is to use one arm to press you flush against his side. I could stay forver like this, you think, with a warm hand on your shoulder and a familiar face still buzzing with excitement paired with an umbrella overhead to keep you dry from the rain. In the background you hear thunder and you flinch, only for Tendou to lay a hand on your head to tuck you near his chest. From this up-close, you can hear his heartbeat grow steady. From this up-close, you can hear a familiar tune being sang:

“You can stand under my umbrella-ella-ella, eh, eh, eh. Under my umbrella-ella-ella, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh-eh…”

A/N: what do you guys think? I spent a long time on this, so feedback is greatly appreciated. Let me know your thoughts on this, and what I can do to improve. Take care everyone!

- Trish

[tbr-agency]

hidden feelings.

summary ⟶ Hyunji was worried about going to Virginia for 5 months while Yugyeom is worried about his own feelings.

timeline ⟶ October 2019

characters : Bang Nara, Yoon Hyunji (The Bloody Roses), Got7, Kim Yugyeom (Got7)

❝ I’m here, you know. You can always talk to me, ❞

“And - that is the last luggage,” Nara smiled to herself, rubbing her hands in satisfaction as she zips up her luggage.

“Is it necessary to bring 7 luggage with you?” Hyunji commented while wearing her leather jacket, as she was judging her roommate who was busy packing up.

“Hyunji-ah, we are moving into a larger house and secondly, we will be going abroad for 5 months. It’s not a short duration,” answered Nara as she turned towards the young one, her expression quickly changing.

“I can't believe it,” Hyunji muttered as she looked at her own room. It was almost empty since both of them managed to stuff everything into their own luggage.

“There are tags on my luggage, so I think it would be easier for the workers who will be helping us with the luggage, to know which is which,” Hyunji added, earning a nod from Nara as she sat on her own bed.

“Yeonji said that we will be getting our own rooms and it has been painted and decorated just like how we wanted!” Nara said excitedly and Hyunji pouted.

“I’m gonna be lonely,” mumbled Hyunji.

“Dude, our rooms are particularly next to each other and we are roommates when we are in the Virginia dorm house!” stated Nara while rolling her eyes in response, earning a chuckle from Hyunji.

Ahrin and Eunhee had a discussion regarding whether they wanted to stay or find another house since Eunhee’s lease is going to expire. 

Ahrin didn’t mind if they extended their lease, but Eunhee decided to find another house and in just a day, she successfully made her transactions. 

Today was not her day as she had things to do which are going to the new house to unpack and meeting someone, before leaving Korea for 5 months.

“You’re meeting Yugyeom for the last time?” Nara inquired and Hyunji frowned a little, as she looked at her phone, checking the time and it was her queue to go.

“Maybe, I’m not sure. I was planning to surprise visit him on the day he was filming for the new comeback,” Hyunji shrugged.

“Chin up, Hyunji-ah. You’ll see him again - five months later,” teased Nara, and Hyunji slightly glared at her.

“I’ll get going then. See you at the new house!”

Hyunji kept mentioning to herself that 5 months would pass by fast. That’s what she was hoping.

The first thing Hyunji did when she received the letter from Eunhee was she instantly drove to her parents’ house, without giving them a heads up since Eunhee wanted her and the other girls to make the final decision within 2 days.

“Oh my god! Hyunji-ah! This is a good opportunity! Blessed Mrs Ahn and her daughter for giving you this scholarship!” Her mother squealed and Hyunji’s face started to tense, and her 2nd oldest brother noticed the change of her expression.

“I don’t think Hyunji wants to go,” Her 2nd oldest brother, Hajoon, voiced out and their mother instantly looked at her, noticing her own daughter looking a little tense.

“What’s wrong, baby? You don’t want to go?” Her mother approached her, embracing her and Hyunji chuckle, her own mother treats her like a kid.

“It’s not that. I want to go, but I’m scared,” muttered Hyunji and Hajoon widened his eyes.

“Hyunji? Scared!?” Hajoon scoffs as he covers his mouth dramatically, earning a glare towards him.

“Hyunji, are you hearing yourself? You’re telling me you’re scared of going abroad to study but you didn't feel anything when it comes to hunting down a criminal, in another country, for more than 5 months?” Hajoon exaggerated and Hyunji instantly frown to hear what her annoying brother had said.

She was about to fire back at him but he was right. 

Their mother looks at Hyunji, seeing her in a state where she can’t reply to him.

“Is it because of the Yugyeom guy?” 

Both Hajoon and Hyunji look at their mother, seeing her looking innocently at Hyunji.

“Wait.. So it’s true?!?! You like Yugyeom from Got7?!?!” babbled Hajoon and Hyunji let out a long sigh.

Hyunji sigh as she suddenly remembers the conversation she had with her own brother and mother. 

She came there to seek comfort but she was being teased in the end, thanks to Hajoon.

But she eventually manages to have small talk with her father and mother.

“You will be fine, Hyunji-ah. You will have fun. Most of the courses suit your interest,” her father advised as he gave the letter of acceptance back to her, confirming that it was really from the university.

“Trust me, my dear. Your mother and I have gone to that university, and you will love it,” added her father as he ruffled her hair.

“You don’t have to be scared. The other girls will be there with you, baby. Just have fun,” added her mother as she pinched Hyunji’s cheeks, looking at her with adoration.

“But if you’re worried about that certain someone, my advice is you better have an honest talk with him - it works.” continued her mother, making Hyunji instantly look at her with widened eyes.

A confused face was seen from her father as he turned towards his wife, then back to his daughter.

“And which certain someone do you girls refer to?”

Hyunji sighs as her brows begin to furrow. 

She was wondering why she was bothered by what her brother had said, and she began to question her own feelings towards Yugyeom.

She never felt like this when she was on or off duty. This was her first time and it was obviously her first experience of being shy and having a nervous feeling whenever she sees her client.

Instead of calling him her client, Yugyeom is now one of her close-friends aside from Bambam. 

Whenever there’s Yugyeom, there will always be Bambam and vice-versa.

There was once Hyunji was being dragged by Yugyeom, because he himself was dragged by Bambam, who was on a date with Nara but Bambam had an idea to invite Yugyeom.

Yugyeom didn’t want to be a third-wheel and that’s when he called Hyunji.

Hyunji didn't regret following the couple, because, at the end of the day, she had fun. 

Unfortunately for her, that's when her feelings for Yugyeom started to develop.

“Hyunji-ah!”

A voice exclaimed and Hyunji quickly looked up to see Yugyeom running downstairs, then running towards her as usual giving her a welcoming hug. 

“I’m sure we planned our meet-up around midnight. You came pretty early!” teased Yugyeom and Hyunji rolled her eyes.

“I know. I came here to see the rehearsal.” 

Yugyeom chuckled as he saw her being the usual annoyed self, but somehow, Yugyeom could feel there was something wrong, just by the atmosphere he was feeling. 

It was obvious since he could tell by Hyunji’s face.

“Can I see how you guys practice then?” questioned Hyunji as her eyes were to the black curtains and Yugyeom instantly smiled.

“Yeah sure! We’re continuing in about 15 minutes' time!” answered Yugyeom, looking a little too hyper and excited, earning a small chuckle from Hyunji.

“Lead the way please,”

Yugyeom was sweet enough to tour Hyunji around the rehearsal arena, and lastly they stopped at the entrance of the arena and from far, the other Got7 members could see Yugyeom and Hyunji, passing by the tables and seats.

“Hyunji-ah!”

Someone yelled and Hyunji could see Jackson waving excitedly, followed by the others. 

“That’s my cue for me to continue with the rehearsal! In the meantime, maybe you could stay in our waiting room? I feel bad for leaving you alone,” said Yugyeom who was pouting a little, and Hyunji raised an eyebrow.

“I’ll just stay here and watch you guys. Staying in the waiting room is more boring,” offered Hyunji, and Yugyeom’s lips curved up into a smile.

“Yay! Well, it can get a little loud--

“YAH! Yugyeom-ah! Hurry up and stop talking to your girl--

Bambam was being cut off by Jinyoung who was covering his mouth, Jinyoung had the cat-whiskers smile followed by an awkward chuckle while waving towards Hyunji.

The other Got7 members were somehow looking at Yugyeom’s way with cheeky smiles. Hyunji can’t help but give Yugyeom a side-eye.

“I think I know what you mean by loud,” mumbled Hyunji as he was scratching the back of his head, unsure what to say about his hyungs. 

“1 minute to the final rehearsal!”

That was an announcement from the stage producer and Hyunji forced him to group on stage, though he was reluctant to go up, in the end he joined his hyungs and Hyunji watched their performance.

Her eyes lowkey glued towards Yugyeom since he was the main dancer but his visual attracted her.

Hyunji has watched his ‘Hit The Stage’ performances and he really is the best dancer she has ever met so far. 

She unknowingly has a smile on her face as she quickly took another phone to snap some pictures of the boys, and sent them straight to the group chat.

But Hyunji realized that most of the pictures she had taken were all Yugyeom. 

God, what the heck is wrong with me today? 

Why do I keep thinking about him?

Hyunji quickly put her phone away, as she stood up going straight to the exit door, not realizing a few eyes were on her ever since she stood up with a huge frown on her face.

“Yugyeom-ah, what did you say to her?” Jinyoung suddenly turned towards the tall maknae as he too looked concerned for his bodyguard who looked troubled. 

A minute ago, in his eyes, she was smiling widely as she was taking pictures of them hence they were being extra knowing she was recording and taking pictures of them.

But now her smiles were changed to a frown and a pout.

“I didn’t say anything, she was fine when I’m with her,” confessed Yugyeom and his other hyungs were confused too.

“Well, she is going abroad in about a weeks time and you will be spending time with her, maybe you can ask her,” Jaebeom advised, and Bambam patting the younger one's shoulder as he began to feel sad, the leader made him remember that his bodyguard is going abroad for 5 months.

“It’s my dream to join NIS,” muttered Hyunji as she slightly turned towards Yugyeom who nodded a little, his eyes were downcast.

They were sitting on a bench, near Got7’s dorm. 

Hyunji was being considerate since Yugyeom was tired although he denied it, it was obvious by looking at his eyebags. 

Hence she suggested hanging out near his dorm, which is the park located behind his dorm building.

“So you were interested in being an investigator ever since you were young?” questioned Yugyeom curiously and Hyunji tilted her head slightly.

“Hmm, yes.. But my parents played a huge role, as you know they are working under KNPA,” replied Hyunji with a small smile and Yugyeom nodded, remembering the day where they were having a deep and open talk where both of them ask random questions and they would answer honestly.

Yugyeom loves that session as he gets to know more about her, and he did. 

It was more than enough for him.

“You should take this chance. Good chances don't come often, they say,” advised Yugyeom and Hyunji turned towards him, seeing him smiling at her.

Hyunji quickly looked away from him, as she sighed a little.

“Yeah.. but I feel uneasy,” muttered Hyunji as her eyes went towards her curled fingers. 

Yugyeom was staring at her face, seeing how concentrated she looked and a slight frown plastered on her face. 

She always had that look when she was talking to one of the JYP staff, him knowing she was troubled.

“Something must be troubling you.” Yugyeom voiced out and Hyunji instantly smiled a little, kind of impressed that the boy knows what she is feeling.

“Well... you’re not wrong,” mumbled Hyunji and Yugyeom frowned a little, his back quickly straightened as his eyes never left hers.

“I’m here, you know. You can always talk to me,” offered Yugyeom and Hyunji’s body quickly turned towards him. 

Her eyes were roaming onto his face, though his cap was covering his features but Hyunji could remember clearly.

“I know. I guess I’m just worried about what's waiting for me in Virginia,” shrugged Hyunji, letting out a smile towards him. 

Yugyeom instantly let out a forced smile, masking his true feelings. 

He was honestly devastated as soon as he heard the news from Hyunji, through a text and Yugyeom immediately called her, probing her why she needed to go abroad and Yugyeom immediately went quiet after he heard her explanation.

Yugyeom can’t stop her, it was her groups’ dream.

Yugyeom was thankful to Hyunji because he was the first one to be notified by her and 2 days later, he heard his hyungs talking on the phone with their own partners, he could still remember the trembling voice of his Jackson hyung as if he was about to cry when he mentions about Chaeun going to stay in another country for 5 months.

“Everything will be fine, Hyunji-ah. You will be fine, I can feel it.” Yugyeom ruffled her hair, letting out a soft smile towards Hyunji.

But deep inside, Yugyeom wasn’t feeling fine at all.

masterlist : Got7 Bodyguard Au

[ringa-starr]

What You Mean to Me Pt3

A/N: Hey dudes and dudettes! Whew! You guys would not BELIEVE the blood, sweat and tears that I have put into this chapter all for you guys! The readers! My followers! All of you amazing people! You guys are the reason I write like a mad woman and I appreciate every like, comment, reblog...really from the bottom of my heart thank you thank you thank you!

I hope this chapter was worth the wait and I really REALLY wanna know what you guys think about it because, no lie, I have worked for two days straight on this and even lost a night’s sleep over it.

But that all being said please enjoy and stay tuned for part 4! Things are gonna really get cookin’! ;)

As always stay excellent and breathtaking and be excellent to each other!

-Love, Deidra

WARNING: SMUT!! DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 18!

A/N: Party outfits!  ☝️

A pick-up truck filled with high school kids, including the cargo bed, slammed into the Prestons’ mailbox sending it flying across the yard the next night as it pulled into Bill’s driveway, his party already in full swing and obviously going strong.

Pump It by the Black-Eyed Peas was blasting from inside Bill’s home but it was so loud the music could be heard all over the neighborhood…perhaps even further.

Teens hung out in the yard and on the front porch, red cups in hand as they danced, talked, smoked, and/or made out.

River hopped out of the cargo bed and smiled as he took his girlfriend Ashley’s hand, helping her into the yard.

Once she was out of the truck, River smiled and placed a loving, gentle kiss on her cheek as well as the back of her hand.

That night, Ashley’s outfit consisted of a black top that read Caffeine Queen in bold white letters, pale blue jean shorts, and black Converse shoes along with a dark green jacket which she sported around her waist thanks to the hot, wet, night air.

Ashley’s shoulder length, bleach blonde hair hung loose, dark blood-red lipstick on her mouth and just as dark eye shadow around her gray, yet sometimes green, eyes.

Of course, it didn’t matter what she looked like.

River always thought Ashley was beautiful.

“You look great tonight”, he complimented her with a smile.

Ashley saw her boyfriend’s lips moving but she couldn’t make out what he was saying due to the loud, vibrating music.

“What?!” she cried, moving her head closer so she could hear him.

“I said you look great!” River repeated a bit louder in her ear.

Smiling, Ashley turned her head and kissed River’s lips, wrapping her arms around his neck.

River kissed her back, smiling into the kiss as he ran his fingers through her soft hair.

After another moment, River slowly broke the kiss and took Ashley’s hand, entwining her fingers with his as they opened the front door, music hitting them like an on-coming speeding train and the ground beneath them shaking and vibrating due to the massive bass of the stereo.

Loud cheers, whistles and yelling could be heard from all angles, the whole downstairs area of the house dark except for the rotating 9-color crystal ball filling the dark rooms with neon colors.

River and Ashley scanned the enormous crowd of San Dimas High students for their friends, River smiling and pointing out Bill, Deidra, and Ted center stage with their instruments, adding extra sound to the song.

Ashley and River moved further into the crowd to get a better look at their friends’ performance.

A/N: I recommend listening to 2:20-2:31 of this song https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PvlaZBxY6i0 )

Bill hit a few cords on his guitar before moving closer to Ted’s microphone, his best friend playing a sick guitar riff.

“Damn”, Bill sang into Ted’s microphone before slightly moving his head away.

“Damn”, Ted and Deidra chanted, Deidra having her own microphone attached to her drum set.

“Damn”, Bill sang again, a hot, seductive look on his face as he bent his knees a bit lower.

He had spotted Emily in the crowd and had his eyes locked on her.

“Damn”, Ted and Deidra echoed.

“Damn!” Bill breathed, bending a little lower, his heart pounding in his chest not just from the song’s energy but from the sight of the girl who held a special place in his heart.

He could put his feelings for her in one word at that very moment:

“Damn!” Ted turned his head and gave Deidra a look as if to indicate to her what Bill was trying to do.

“Damn!” Bill was now on his knees, gripping the guitar neck so hard his knuckles were turning white under his black leather fingerless gloves.

“Damn!” Deidra and Ted chanted for the final time, knowing smiles on both their faces as they watched their friend.

“Damn!!” Bill cried in song; his eyes squeezed shut as he leaned his head forward until it was touching the hard-wood ground.

His feelings for Emily had become far too much for him to handle at this point.

Deidra and Ted eyed Bill with slight concern until their friend found his way upright again, taking his place beside Ted.

As soon as the song was over, the sound of applause, whistles and cheers didn’t even seem to faze Bill.

He didn’t think he could get his guitar strap off fast enough before running off the stage he and Ted had set up hours before and disappearing in the crowd; only to reappear, his friends would find out soon enough, at the large refreshment table at the very far end of the room.

“Dude!” Bill heard Ted cry as he, Deidra, River, and Ashley ran up to him. “That kicked serious ass!”

Ted’s goofy smile slowly faded when he realized that Bill was not smiling back.

Instead, he was breathing hard, sweat pouring down his face, a hard, determined, and some-what angry look on his face as well, his eyes shining.

“Bill?” River asked, a bit nervous.

He had never seen his friend look like this before.

“Are you ok?”

Instead of answering River, Bill downed the cup of Pepsi he had just poured himself before throwing it across the room, his eyes never leaving his friends.

“I can’t take this anymore!” he cried, his hands gripping his blonde curls. “I’ve gotta tell her how I feel! Tonight!”

“Tell who what?” came a familiar female voice, causing the hair on Bill’s neck to stand straight up.

Emily walked up and stood in between her brother and Ted, giving Bill a curious smile.

Emily was sporting a white tank top with two black palm trees on either side, dark blue jean shorts, black sneakers, and a black beanie with the words Bad Hair Day on the bottom in white letters.

Her long blonde hair hung loose down her back with aqua blue highlights on the tips.

Suddenly, Bill felt lightheaded and dizzy.

He could hear his heart pounding in his chest so hard and so loud that he placed a hand over it, in case of the illogical event that it was to fly out of his chest.

A sudden sense of queasiness hit the teen’s stomach as well, the soda inside not helping matters much.

“Bill?” Ted questioned.

Even in bright, color changing neon lights, he could see Bill’s face getting paler by the minute.

“Are you alright, dude?” Ted tried again.

Breathing even harder, Bill wanted to say something but instead all he did was run off, heading for the downstairs bathroom.

Ted followed close behind him, hearing the bathroom door slam shut.

Feeling concerned, Ted pressed his ear against the door only to hear his best friend’s heavy breathing.

After hearing Bill gag a few times, Ted cringed and squeezed his eyes shut, his teeth clenched as he listened to Bill getting sick on the other side of the door.

A few minutes later, Ted heard the toilet flush followed by the door opening and Bill walking out, a small bottle of mouthwash in his hand, wiping his mouth with the back of his free hand.

“You okay, Man?” Ted wanted to know, placing a comforting hand on Bill’s shoulder.

Bill nodded before putting the open bottle of mouthwash to his lips, swishing the mint blue, germ-killing liquid in his mouth several times before spitting it out on the ground.

“Yeah”, Bill breathed with a sigh. “I-I’m fine dude…really.”

Ted smiled, wrapping an arm around his best friend’s shoulder as Bill continued to look at the floor.

“You really like her, huh?”

At the question, Bill’s head shot up, making eye contact with Ted.

The two were so close that sometimes they didn’t even need words to understand each other.

After a few moments of just solid eye contact, Ted’s smile grew wider causing a smile to form its way across Bill’s face.

“Excellent!” the duo cried out before doing their guitar move again.

“I’ve never felt this way before, Ted”, Bill confided in his best friend as they walked back into the living room.

“When I see Emily a-and think about her I…I just feel happy! Li-like I’m floating on air or something!” Bill’s voice grew a bit more excited with every passing word.

“You’re in love, dude!” Ted cried, happy for his best friend.

Bill didn’t think he could smile any wider, but he did.

“Yeah”, he agreed. “I-I guess I am!”

The duo soon spotted Ashley and River in their own little space dancing together to Michael Jackson’s P.Y.T, Emily dancing with Deidra nearby.

Bill watched as the girl he adored hung her head low, her long hair covering her face only for her to throw her head back, her hair falling perfectly back into place only in Bill’s eyes this happened in a slow, perfect motion.

His breath caught in his throat as he watched a smile form on Emily’s face as she slowly opened her eyes halfway, looking right at him.

Bill was so lost in his trance that he didn’t even notice that Ted was shaking his shoulder extra hard in order to get his attention.

“Huh?” Bill asked, feeling the same way he did when he was asleep in class and his teacher called on him. “What?”

“You’re drooling”, Ted laughed, pointing out the drool dripping off Bill’s chin and onto the floor.

Bill was thankful for the red neon light hitting his face at that moment because it masked the color of his face perfectly.

“Dude, you remind me of my uncle’s dog!” Ted laughed even harder as Bill wiped the now coagulating drool off his chin.

“Shut up, Ted!” Bill snapped, laughing a little despite himself.

It was after midnight and Bill’s party hadn’t died down in the slightest.

In fact, it was doing the opposite.

Lil Jon’s Outta Your Mind shook the whole house, the entire party looking and feeling as if it were now split in two halves, watching as students took turns dancing; some just dancing to show off their moves, some dancing seductively to impress the hot/popular kids, others twerking, and some even exposing themselves to the various groups of drunks around them.

Sometime during the party when Bill’s head was turned, all the sodas had been spiked with some of the best white wine San Dimas had to offer.

No one in Bill’s group of friends seemed to notice the slight change of taste to their drinks…and it seems like they didn’t even give a fuck themselves.

Deidra poured herself another cup of Sprite, this being her 10th cup of the night.

Placing a hand on her head to steady herself, Deidra turned, the room spinning in all directions around her as she took a long drink from her cup before taking a few stumbling steps.

Emily, who was a little tipsy herself, reached out and grabbed her friend’s arm as she saw her walk by.

“Dee”, Emily said, concern in her voice. “I think you should go upstairs and lie down. You’re really drunk, babe.”

As if her friend’s words went in one ear and out the other, Deidra harshly pulled her arm out of Emily’s grasp.

“Who the hell do you think you are?” she slurred loudly. “My fucking mother or somethin’?”

She threw her head back and downed the rest of her drink before standing back upright and throwing the empty cup as far as she could.

Deidra stumbled to the empty stage, the microphone making a loud, vibrating, whining sound as she griped in tightly in her hand, struggling to keep her balance.

Emily watched sadly as some students around her laughed at her best friend, and some, Emily noticed, pulling out their phones to record her.

“Attention ladies and gentle-dudes!” Deidra announced into the microphone after someone had cut the music off.

She now held the whole party’s full attention.

‘No good can come from this’, Emily thought to herself sadly, feeling hopeless and defenseless in her friend’s situation.

“I would like…to…s-sing a little song I-that I wrote just for this-o-occasion”, Deidra slurred before bowing her head and taking a deep breath.

She lifted her head up and stifled a burp that was wanting to come up, knowing she would throw up right there on that stage if she did.

Some student’s laughs could be heard at the sound as Deidra took another deep breath.

“Hear that lonesome whippoorwill”, Deidra sang in a loud, tone-deaf, southern accent.

“He sounds too blue to fly!”

Tears filled her eyes.

“And as I wonder where you are-“she sang louder before pausing to point at a male teen randomly.

“I’m talkin’ to you Jeremy!” she cried, sending daggers in the confused teen’s direction.

“I'm so lonesome I… could cry!”

Deidra barely got the word cry out before gripping the microphone so hard it whined again causing a lot of students to laugh even harder, some laughing so hard they fell to the floor, holding their stomachs, while others covered their ears trying to block the noise.

“Why would you leave me in that fucking rodeo?!” Deidra sobbed as she screamed.

Emily had had enough as she felt River gently touch her arm.

She turned her head to see her brother giving her a look that said, ‘Help her.”

Emily nodded before pushing past the crowd of hysterical party guests and running onto the stage, gently wrapping an arm around Deidra’s waist.

“C’mon Dee”, Emily softly said in her friend’s ear as she led her off the stage. “It’s ok now.”

“E-Emily”, Deidra breathed. “I-I don’t feel so good.”

Emily didn’t have time to react before Deidra bowed her head again and threw up where she stood, the students all around her jumping back to avoid being hit, a few girls screaming in disgust as the vomit splashed onto them.

“Heh”, River laughed softly from his spot beside Ashley who had her mouth covered with her hand in surprise. “Serves ‘em right.”

River, along with Ashley, Bill, and Ted eyed Deidra with concern as Emily walked over to the group, almost having to carry her friend herself.

“Bill”, Emily said, her voice filled with concern, “can Deidra lie down in your room?”

Without a moment’s hesitation, Bill nodded.

“Of course, babe”, he replied.

Without thinking, Emily leaned over and kissed Bill on the cheek before helping Deidra upstairs and into Bill’s bedroom.

Downstairs, Bill’s jaw dropped, his hand on the cheek Emily kissed.

He slowly looked at Ted who was giving him a large, goofy grin, his own eyes as big as plates.

“EXCELLENT!!” the boys screamed in unison before doing their air guitar move for the third time that night.

~~

Everything was returning to normal now as the music blasted again, most of the party guests barely remembering that anything happened.

Except Ted, it seemed.

He sat in a large circle of his classmates in Bill’s living room, ready for a game of 7 Minutes in Heaven.

Bill smirked as he came back from the kitchen with an empty root beer bottle.

He sat it in the exact middle of the circle before taking his place beside Ted.

“Okay, you guys know the rules!” he announced enthusiastically. “Someone spins the bottle and whichever lucky person it lands on gets to go into my parents’ room and do whatever they want for 7 whole minutes!”

“Or longer!” one of the football players cried out before letting out a loud cheer and slamming his fists in the air, earning him whistles and applause.

Ted slowly stood up from the circle, all eyes on him.

“Hey, where are you goin’, dude?” Bill asked. “Aren’t you gonna play?”

“You guys go on without me”, Ted replied. “I’m gonna go check on Deidra.”

That comment earned him a series of ‘Ooooohhhh’s from the circle but Ted ignored them.

Upstairs in Bill’s room, Deidra lay on Bill’s bed, rubbing her still queasy stomach.

Her head throbbed with pain and the music downstairs wasn’t helping matters any.

The room spun around her as she carefully turned her head at the sound of Bill’s bedroom door opening.

“Dee?” Ted’s voice said quietly as he carefully walked in the room and shut the door. “You ok, Dudette?”

Deidra groaned a little, seeing two of Ted as he spun around her in circles.

Ted sat on the edge of Bill’s bed, a concerned look on his face as he stroked his friend’s forehead.

“Ted?” Deidra said softly, still a little drunk, his touch filling good to her. “W-Would you hold me?”

Ted looked a little surprised by the question, taking a moment to take in what his friend said to him.

Finally, he gave her a tiny smile and nodded.

“Sure”, he replied, scooting closer on the bed and lying down beside her.

Deidra’s head was killing her as she slowly scooted closer to Ted, but it was worth it when she felt her pounding head on his chest.

Ted gently wrapped an arm around Deidra’s waist, being careful of her upset stomach.

Without saying a word, he gently lifted Deidra’s t-shirt a bit and began rubbing soft, careful circles on her belly.

She flinched a little at his cold his hand was.

“You ok?” Ted asked, feeling her tense up beneath his hand.

“Yeah”, Deidra replied softly. “It’s just that….”

She smiled a little. “Your hands are cold.”

Ted chuckled, giving her his cute, crooked smile. “Sorry, babe”, he apologized.

Deidra could only smile back as she felt her entire body relax.

“Ted?” she said after a few minutes of silence as he continued to rub her tummy.

“Mmm-hmm?” Ted replied.

Deidra blushed, her heart pounding again as she tried to find the words.

She stared into Ted’s beautiful brown eyes, wanting so badly to move the stray piece of dark hair that hung in his face.

“I…I…well…I-“she leaned up slightly, gently moving the loose piece of hair behind Ted’s ear before gently cupping his cheek with her hand.

“I love you, Ted”, she admitted softly, combing her fingers through his soft, dark hair. “I love you so much.”

Ted remained silent for a few moments, making Deidra feel like she was going to be sick again.

What if he doesn’t feel the same way? she thought.

What if he laughs in my face?

Dedra fought her hardest to keep the tears that were wanting to show back, every second of silence making her feel worse and worse.

Finally, Ted smiled genuinely, the fear in his eyes softening slightly, as he lowered his lips to hers.

Ted lifted her eyes to see his and without a word he lowered his lips on to hers again.

It was sweet, gentle...a touch that Deidra had craved for years now, soon her hands began to explore his body.

She felt his tight arms and broad shoulders and ran her hands down his back.

Deidra pulled his shirt off and drew planes on his chest and lowered her hand down to his pants.

She was surprised to have them so tight and then she blushed scarlet red when she realized what was happening.

Not wanting to chicken out now, Deidra pulled them down leaving Ted in nothing but his underwear.

Ted blushed too when Deidra took his pants off and held himself up over her to try and get them off all the way.

Ted's rough hands stroked Deidra's stomach and his hand went up on her body.

He began to lift her shirt over her head, and she froze.

The self-conscious feeling was creeping up again as she thought about her naked body in front of his eyes.

Ted must have picked up on her thoughts because he started to kiss her stomach and then moved his way up her body until he had finally worked her shirt over her head.

Deidra lay there and didn't meet his eyes.

"Deidra, you look beautiful." Ted assured her and began to cover her body with kisses again.

He worked up her body and down and she sighed in pleasure and delight was his lips raked against her skin.

Ted pulled her pants down and off with little trouble and soon was over her again.

He looked her very point in the eyes until she would meet his stare.

"Are you sure you want to do this? Just so you know I've never done anything like this before and I don't really know what to expect." Ted blushed slightly at the end and looked down.

Deidra was so nervous and scared she didn't want to speak in fear that her voice would shake and give me away.

Instead in response she took off her bra and pulled her underwear down and off all the way.

Then she was just there, she had become totally vulnerable and open to him.

Deidra bared all and she was relived.

Ted's eyes looked over her whole body and while Deidra wanted to hide she fought it because the look in his eyes made her feel like she was worth something.

He looked at her like he was looking at the most precious thing in all of San Dimas.

Slowly and awkwardly Ted pulled his underwear down.

Deidra let out a small gasp when she saw his manhood.

This was a whole new side of him.

Slowly Ted positioned himself over Deidra and her entrance.

Her body had a strange reaction while she waited for him and suddenly, she couldn't wait anymore.

Deidra grabbed Ted around his neck and pulled him down on her, he guided himself inside and she let out a sharp gasp as he penetrated her for the first time ever.

The tearing was almost too much and tears began to fill her eyes.

This is not what she thought it would be.

Ted looked at Deidra's face and quickly jumped off her.

"Deidra! I'm so sorry babe, I didn't mean to hurt you, God I'm such an idiot!" He brushed her hair back from her head and apologized repeatedly.

"Ted, stop. It's ok. I knew it would hurt at first, please. Can we try again?"

Deidra had heard girls talk about the brief pain and then the wonderful sensation afterwards and if this small pinch was all it took to make Ted wholly hers then she would tough it up.

This wouldn't last long.

Ted reluctantly got back on the bed and positioned himself over Deidra again.

She could tell he was about to rethink it again so before he could talk, she pulled him down on her and crushed her lips on his.

Deidra moved her hips to meet him and he was inside of her again.

This time it didn't hurt so badly, and she could feel the warmth beginning to rise inside her.

Ted took a few short thrusts at her until he finally found a rhythm to keep and he slowly pulled his head back up, he used both arms to steady himself and Deidra pulled her legs around his waist and anchor herself onto him.

Consequently, this did wonderful things to her insides and it felt even better.

Deidra could feel Ted losing himself in her and soon all kissing stopped.

He thrust again and again, and she felt a tingle inside her work its way down until she erupted in euphoria.

Ted collapsed on Deidra a second later and she laughed at his exhausted features.

He had a thin sheet of sweat on him and his back felt clammy.

Deidra knew she felt the same way and she loved it.

They laid next to each other until Deidra couldn't handle to separation anymore.

She half climbed on him, so they were closer and laid her head on his chest.

Deidra felt her head move up and down with his rapid breathing and closed her eyes.

This is what she's needed.

For the first time in a long time Deidra felt safe and whole as she dozed off in bliss.

She and Ted stayed wrapped up in each other that night with their naked bodies intertwined.

~~

Meanwhile downstairs, it was Bill’s turn to spin the bottle.

He spotted Emily sitting directly across from him and she noticed him, giving him a kind smile.

Bill felt his heart pound faster as he said a silent prayer before spinning the bottle as best he could.

‘Emily, Emily, Emily please Emily!!’ Bill prayed in his head; eyes squeezed shut.

A series of more ‘Oooohhhs’ filled the circle, causing Bill to open his eyes in dread…

…only to find the tip of the bottle pointed at Emily.

Inside, Bill was on Cloud 9 but there was no way he was going to let that show on the outside.

Instead, he slowly stood and, heart like a jackhammer, held out his hand.

Emily returned Bill’s shy smile as she took his hand, following him to the nearby closet, wolf whistles and cheers following them.

It was quiet for a few moments as Bill and Emily stood in the solid darkness in utter silence until Bill was startled by Emily’s angelic voice in the dead air.

"Bill?" She asked softly, almost reluctantly.

"Um," Was his soft reply.

"How… how do you feel about me?" He heard the true need behind the question.

The need of the truth and love.

"Emily, I… I…" He paused and took a deep breath. "I love you."

Her head shot up, her eyes were wide as saucers.

"Y-you love me?" She stuttered.

"Emily, I don't care if you don't feel the same way. I just wanna b-"

He was cut off by Emily slamming her lips onto his.

The kiss was passionate yet soft and hesitant.

It was also short.

Emily pulled back unwantingly and to Bill's dismay.

"How could I not love you, you moron?" She demanded more than asked.

Bill was too stunned to answer.

Emily really loved him.

"How could I not love a goddess like you?" Bill chuckled when Emily blushed before kissing him again.

This time Bill wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her onto his lap, so she was straddling him.

She felt his lips move across her cheek to her ear, where he nibbled on her ear lobe causing her to moan.

"Emily," He whispered into her ear.

"Hmm?" She sighed/moaned, bending her head against his shoulder, closing her eyes.

"Did you really mean that you want to leave school as a virgin?" He asked moving his mouth away from her ear.

"I would rather than sleep with every guy I can." She lifted her head and stared into Bill's green eyes. "But if there was just one guy I could love and count on, then no." Emily smirked.

"Really?" Bill raised his eyebrows. "Is there any chance that guy is me?"

"No." Emily simply said.

She laughed at the shocked look on his face.

"There is no chance because it is you." She kissed him. "And I want my first time to be with you."

"Same with me." Bill said picking her up and he started to walk to the stairs, Emily behind him.

When they got to his parents' room Bill kicked the door shut behind him and placed Emily on the bed.

But instead of joining her, he stepped back to admire her just sitting on the bed.

"What?" She asked with a smile.

"Nothing." Bill walked up to Emily and traced the contours of her face with is hand.

His warm breath tickled her neck making her spine tingle.

"Emily…" He said lovingly. Bill pushed her softly against the bed with his hand supporting her neck.

He pressed his body against hers with his head buried in her shoulder.

He phased her shirt and bra off to reveal her pale skin and threw them across the room.

Bill gently nipped her collarbone, earning himself a gasp.

He smirked against her skin.

He pulled himself up to look at her.

The way her skin shimmered in the moon light coming through the window and the shine in her blue eyes made her look like a goddess.

Having Bill look at her with such intense eyes made her shiver all over her body.

Emily could feel his eyes scan her body, carefully taking in the view of her exposed chest.

Her hands wanted to cover herself, but they couldn't.

Bill's strong arms held them firmly above her head.

Bill dipped his head down and licked her earlobe, making his princess twitch.

His lips trailed down the side of her face leaving a trail of fresh kisses.

Finally, his lips made it to hers.

When they were right above hers, he crashed them down with hunger.

Bill begged for entrance as his tongue liked her bottom lip.

The woman under him moaned into the passionate kiss, leaving an opening.

With his first chance, his tongue darted in deepening the kiss.

Their tongues soon began to fight for dominance.

After a while they broke apart to catch their breaths.

One of Bill's hands let loose of Emily's arm as it traveled down.

He heard Emily moan silently as his fingers played with one of her peaks.

His head slowly crept down to take in the other peak into his mouth.

His tongue swiveled it around making her moan louder.

Then he began to suck on it making her make more erotic sounding noises.

It excited him, making him nip her hardened peaks.

After a while, his other hand traveled down to her round hips.

Bill phased her shorts and underwear off at once and threw them to join her shirt and bra on the floor.

He used his hand to push her against his hardened manhood showing her his need.

Emily felt it poke her thigh roughly.

When she looked down, she saw a massive bulge growing.

When Bill nipped her peaks again, she arched her back into his body.

Bill's mouth left her breast as it traveled back up to her face.

He kissed her again but this time much softer.

He felt two arms snake around his neck deepening the kiss.

He also felt one of her shapely legs wrap around his waist.

Bill soon felt her grab at his shirt and Emily threw it across the room to join her clothes.

Bill used one arm to prop himself up and the one placed on her waist began to travel somewhere else.

He soon found her entrance that was dripping with her sweet nectar.

Emily felt a great wave of pleasure emit through her body as something entered her maiden hood.

She realized it was Bill's fingers slowly pumping in and out of her.

Her fingers dug into his back as she arched her body into his again.

Then she felt him shove in another finger.

A moan escaped her lips making him enter another one.

"Ahhh…" She said loud enough to drive him mad.

Bill's pace picked up as soon as he heard her moan out in ecstasy.

He felt her body grind into his hand in unison.

He kissed her as she moaned into his mouth.

He could feel her about to reach her climax.

As she drew nearer, he lowered his head until he was in-between her legs.

Bill quickly retracted his fingers and replaced it with his mouth.

He began to kiss it making her scream out his name in pleasure.

"Bill… ahhh!" She screamed as she felt a wet tongue enter her and swirl around.

Her body arched a final time before sinking back into the bed with a final sigh.

A rush of fluids exited her core as he lapped it up.

She tasted like honey; how would she feel?

Bill removed his pants and underwear, revealing his throbbing manhood.

He placed himself right above her with both arms placed at the side of her head supporting him.

He lowered his body until his manhood was placed at the entrance of her womanhood.

Before Bill entered her, he kissed her with passion.

He pushed himself inside of her with all his self-control he had left.

When he came to her barrier Bill broke the kiss and looked at her.

When Emily nodded, he kissed her again and broke through her barrier.

When he was completely rested inside of her, he broke the kiss to look at her.

When Bill saw the pain on her face, he closed his eyes and cursed himself for hurting her.

When he felt her arms re-wrap themselves around his neck, he opened his eyes and saw her smile up at him.

"It's okay, Bill." She whispered and he started to rock his hips.

When he pulled himself halfway out, he pushed his self-back in.

As his pace began to pick up, he felt Emily join him in a rhythmic pattern.

Bill growled as he could feel his partner about to reach her climax for the second time that night.

He had her moaning once again.

"Ahhh… it feels so good," She moaned into his ear. "Ahhhhh!" She screamed as her walls tightened around his shaft.

Bill soon followed her as he reached his peak.

His body lightly collapsed onto hers.

Both of their sweat mixed together as they embraced each other.

"Emily", Bill panted before kissing her forehead.

"Yes, Bill?" Emily panted, her blue eyes shining.

"W-Will you be my princess?" Bill breathed as he moved an aqua blue strip of hair from his beloved’s eyes.

Emily smiled and, as if answering his question, she kissed his lips tenderly, Bill cupping the side of her face with his hand.

Taglist:

@celestiaelisia @shhh-no-ones-home

[charnamefic]

Once again, there’s a transcript below the cut.

Halfway down the hill the bundle began to cry: the air-raid siren wail of the newly born. High. Wordless. And old.

 --------------------

 There was something deeply unfair about being an Earthbound demon, Crawleigh reflected, as he started the 2CV and clunked it down the waterlogged country road. From what he could see, most people, ordinary human people, seemed to do far better than he did when it came to adding to the sum total of human misery.

 He gripped the wheel miserably. Where He’d gone wrong, of course well, of course, He went wrong all the time, it was His job. Where He’d gone particularly wrong was in making Crawleigh human. It subjected you to all kinds of little pressures, no wonder most of them were several coupons short of a toaster, you ended up feeling sorry for them, the poor bastards.

 It wasn’t that he didn’t want to ruin the lives and souls of strangers; it was just that after he’d given them nice cups of tea and homemade cakes, and listened to their problems and helped them balance their cheque books, and got their kittens down from trees, there simply wasn’t the time.

 The road to heaven, he would reflect gloomily, is paved with bad intentions, and resolve to break his ways. Starting, well, tomorrow. Probably.

 He stuck out his chin. Enough of that. No more messing

 about. From now on he was going to be bad. Worse than Michael Jackson. The thought turned his mind to something better in the way of in-car entertainment than the sloshing of the windscreen wipers. The radio would do nothing except crackle in Danish, so he fumbled for a cassette and pushed it into the slot.

 It was The Best of Queen. It always was. Crawleigh suspected that any tape left in a car for more than a fortnight metamorphosed into a Best of Queen album.

 He nearly stopped for a hitchhiker; but at the last moment he remembered the child asleep on the back seat, and sped past the woman hitching by the side of the road, drenching her. Pride and embarrassment struggled within him. Pride won. One of the windscreen wipers was swept away by the rain.

 The tape was bleating about someone who kept Moet and Chandon in a pretty cabinet. Crawleigh, in that dreamlike state that afflicts all car drivers in the pouring rain at night, found himself wondering who Moet and Chandon were.

 And then he wasn’t. Suddenly Freddy Mercury’s voice was talking to Crawleigh.

 WE ARE RELYING ON YOU, it said. DO NOT FAIL US, CRAWLEIGH.

 “No, Lord.”

 NO...WHAT DID WE DO TO YOU AFTER THE ATLANTIS DEBACLE? REMIND US.

 “Half an aeon, O Master of the Nine Hells, partially dismembered, suspended in the flaming cesspits of Abbadon. There were internal stoats in there somewhere as well. And after that l was Earthbound until further notice.”

 YESSSSS. WE TELL YOU THIS, CRAWLEIGH: LISTEN WELL: IF ANYTHING, ANYTHING AT ALL GOES WRONG WITH THIS VENTURE YOU WON’T FIND US ANYWHERE NEARLY SO LENIENT. GOT THAT?

 Crawleigh shook in his seat. He nodded violently.

 GOOD. I see a little silhouetto of a man scaramouche scaramouche will you do the fandango...

 A hole in the sunroof chose this moment to make its presence felt. The rain dripped onto Crawleigh’s head. He didn’t care. All he had to do tonight was to swap over two babies. What could be simpler than that?

 --------------------

 The maternity hospital was fairly quiet, if you didn’t count the screams of women in labour.

 Mr Brown knew what his role in the actual physical action of having babies ought to be. He should be pacing the corridors, puffing nervously on his pipe, making small talk with the other fathers. Then a matronly nurse with a twinkling eye would pop her head around the door and say Mister Brown? It’s a boy or a girl, or twins, or something

 and he would hand around the cigars he had bought for the occasion, congratulate Deirdre, and go off and get stinking drunk. He‘d done it twice before, and you soon got the hang of it. It was like shelling peas.

 The No Smoking sign was the first hurdle. Deirdre was the second. Mister Brown blamed Woman’s Hour.

 He felt strongly that it wasn’t his place to sit next to Deirdre and exhort her to breathe. She knew how to breathe. He was pretty sure about that. He had done his bit nine months earlier when a power cut had sent them to bed earlier than planned, and he didn’t see why he needed to go to classes on ‘Constructive coparenting’ at his time of life. And he didn’t see why he had to tell Deirdre to do something she’d been doing for years. And what was he meant to do with the cigars?

 It wasn’t like this in the old days.

 In the old days Deirdre had done little more than bustle around the house arranging flowers, with occasional spurts of shopping thrown in to liven up the day before the Women’s Institute meeting. Then one morning he had come down to breakfast to discover Deirdre in a smock that would have not looked out of place on a Nativity play shepherd, if the actor playing the shepherd was five foot eight and was the kind of Shepherd who had a NUCLEAR POWER NO THANKS badge pinned to the right hand side of his bosom. And there was muesli. Not kippers. Not sausages. Bacon was right out. Bacon was practically the Eighth Deadly Sin. From that day

 forward it had been muesli all the way. And Mrs Brown’s confinement had been mystically transformed into the most joyous and sharing experience that two people can have.

 Well, he hadn’t got anything against joyous sharing experiences. Here’s to joyous sharing experiences. Joyous sharing experiences were all right by him. It just that, as far as he was concerned, Deirdre could have this joyous sharing experience by herself. He’d sidled out of the labour room, and was now huddled by a service entrance puffing at his pipe. He was sheltered from the rain, but not from the cold or the wind.

 He shivered. It happened to them at a certain age. Your father never warned you about it. Suddenly they started ordering their own newspaper, the sort with pages with names like Lifestyle and Options. They started to join things, and did these robotic exercises in pink socks with the feet cut out. They started to blame you for not having had to work for a living for twenty-five years. It was hormones, or something.

 A Citroen 2CV drew up by the dustbins. The young man who got out was wearing a raincoat and carrying a large bundle. He ran across the car park getting wetter with each step. When he reached the service entrance Mr Brown said, “You’ve left your lights on.”

 “Damn. It’s supposed to have this thing that bleeps. Here, hold this.” He thrust the bundle into Mr Brown’s arms and dashed back across the car park to wrestle with the car's

 door and lighting system. Mr Brown was surprised to find that the bundle seemed to be a small carrycot, with a cover over it.

 From the weight there was a baby in the carrycot. Strange, thought Mr Brown, most people take babies away from Maternity Hospitals...

 “Thanks,” said the young man in the raincoat, who was by now soaked through. He took back the bundle and winked. “Is it happening yet?” he asked.

 Deep in the leather armchair of his soul Mr Brown felt vaguely proud to be so instantly recognisable as a parent.

 “Yes,” he admitted, “She’s in labour, if that’s what you mean.

 “Already? Any idea how long we’ve got to go?”

 We? Obviously a Doctor With ideas about coparenting. “Not long now,” said Mister Brown, “She was, uh, doing it when I had to pop out...” He gestured vaguely with his pipe to indicate pressing calls of nature.

 “Shaitan! Now? Why didn’t you say so?” Crawleigh shouldered his burden of waterproofed carrycot and headed for the green swing door. “Oh blast I’ve forgotten. What room’s she in?”

 “Room Three,” said Mr Brown “It’s at the top of the stairs.” He fumbled in his pocket for the packet. “Would you like to share a cigar experience?” he called, but Crawleigh was already running through the doors. Mr Brown sighed,

 and put the cigars away. Then he returned to his pipe.

 It had gone out.

 --------------------

 If you have ever watched a slick stage magician perform a three-card trick, or been hustled by a respectable gentleman with a pea and three shells, you will know the ease and dizzying slickness with which three similar objects can be swapped, exchanged and transferred from place to place, so that you lose any knowledge of which was where to start with.

 This was nothing like that, although the principle is sort of the same.

 Watch carefully. We will stop the action:

 Mrs Brown is giving birth in Maternity Room Three. She is having a dark-haired male baby we will call baby A.

 The wife of the American Ambassador, Mrs Harriet Dowling, is giving birth in Maternity Room Four. She is having a dark-haired male baby we will call baby B.

 Nurse Hodges is a devout Satanist. As a child she went to Sabbat School regular as prunes, and although she won several black stars for things like handwriting and liver she was never particularly bright. She is being handed a dark-haired male baby we will call The Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Great Beast that is

 called Dragon, Prince of this World, Father of Lies, Spawn of Satan and Lord of Darkness.

 There. Got it? Ok, roll ‘em:

 “Is that him?” said Nurse Hodges, staring at the baby. “Only I’d expected maybe funny eyes. Or teensyweensy little hoofikins. Or a widdle tail.” She turned him round as she spoke. No horns either. The devil’s child looked ominously normal.

 “Yes, it’s him,” sighed Crawleigh.

 “Well, I knew it must be, what with you saying he was and all. Coo. Fancy. Me holding the Antichrist. Me bathing the Antichrist. Wiping his little botty and tickling his little toesywoeses...”

 She appeared quite carried away, and was now addressing the child. Crawleigh waved a hand in front of her face. “Hello? Nurse Hodges?”

 “Sorry, sir. He is a little sweetheart. Do you think he looks like his dad? I bet he does. I bet he looks like his daddywaddykins...”

 Crawleigh sighed. “She’s in maternity room three, and she may already have had the baby. Be on standby I want the exchange made as soon as is possible. Got it?”

 “OOO’s a widdledumpydumpywumpyden? OOOOOOOOOO’s a widdlerumpypumpydumpyden? Room three is it, sir? Righty-ho.”

[primrooks]

Wands of a Feather: An Elena of Avalor/Sofia the First Crossover

[Chapter 1] // [Chapter 2]

*One of the most surprising and fun aspects of writing this story has been creating all sorts of different OC's, sometimes right on the spot! Quarry, Isadora, Hiba and Raadi are all my characters (as far as I know, we never do meet the royal wizard of Khaldoun in StF), and I was especially excited to tap into the idea of deaf mages and non-verbal magic within this universe. I'm not part of the deaf community myself, so if anything looks off, do let me know!

AO3 link here!

Chapter 3: The Tri-Kingdom Showcase

The lone figure suddenly formed into two, one a few inches taller than the other. The first presenters stepped into the spotlight, another stage effect courtesy of Isadora. The shorter of the two was a kindly middle-aged woman, wearing a midnight-blue robe and draped with a shimmering silver cloak, her head covered by a knotted white headscarf. Next to her was a teenage boy with freckles dotted across his brown skin, clad in an elegant teal robe and a patterned russet turban. A leather satchel hung from his left arm.

Both bowed deeply before the crowd, then the elder wizard stepped forward to gauge her audience.

Her hazel-eyed gaze held some kind of gravity that pulled at Mateo’s attention. Nothing in it was scrutinizing, just attentive. Quietly aware of the people before her, and silently asking them to share in that awareness.

The woman gave a tender grin, and then began to gesticulate with her hands, smoothly forming various signs while never tearing away her gaze.

“Welcome, friends. I am Hiba, Royal Wizard to His Majesty King Nasir of Khaldoun,” interpreted the young boy, who’d stepped up to Hiba’s side.

“This here is my apprentice, Raadi,” she signed, at which Raadi gave a small nod.

“I am humbled to be performing this morning for all of you, though I must say, the journey from our country to the isle was… more eventful than perhaps our company hoped,” Hiba continued. It amazed Mateo how Raadi matched his voice to the subtle inflections of his master’s gestures and facial expressions, with only cursory glances away from her hands.

Then as if on cue, Raadi took a couple steps to the side, while Hiba extended her left arm and summoned a tall staff out of thin air. The top of the bronze staff was adorned with gilded feathers curling around a bright sapphire orb, and the body was carved with rows upon rows of delicate engravings. Mateo vaguely recognized some of them as runes, but most of the writing seemed to be calligraphy native to Khaldoun. Another wave of Hiba’s hand caused the engravings to glow a purple light, and as they did, Mateo noticed the various jeweled bracelets and swirling golden bands that decorated Hiba’s forearms.

A swirling array of lavender lights emerged like ribbons from the staff, coalescing with one another and steadily taking solid shape before their eyes. The lights took the likeness of a giant thirty-foot serpent, its eyes blank as snow and its maw lined with jagged teeth, with enormous tusks curving out of the sides. The illusion looked big enough to ram its head through a fortress, and it eerily stared down upon the audience while gliding through the air. Its jaws opened and closed just slightly as it prowled in a circle, and Mateo couldn’t help but gulp as it passed above his head. No one made a sound, even as the serpent stopped above Hiba’s head.

“Our ship happened to be passing through a pod of these serpents, and some feared the worst,” Hiba signed.

She then turned toward Raadi. “My dear apprentice confessed that he thought his life was forfeit right then and there.”

Raadi dutifully interpreted his master’s last comments, before he shot back at her with a piqued expression.

“Leave it to Madame Hiba to never skimp out on the details,” he spoke, turning so that he directly faced his master with his signs. Hiba chuckled, as did the audience. But then the spectral serpent curled upwards, and the laughter stopped as it towered above them at its full height. The room grew tense once more as it stood with its eyes unblinking, mouth agape, and then…

It started to sing.

Waves of a soft and ominous melody filled the air, like a shell horn’s strain ringing through a cave. The effect was similar to how Mateo had heard Naomi describe whale songs back at school. Its voice carried echoes of some dark and fathomless part of the ocean, its melody as unhurried as the tide. Mateo then remembered one other thing Naomi warned about serpent calls: many an untrained sailor had met their watery fate by mistaking their song for a whale’s.

Serpents travelled in large pods beneath the water’s surface, using their song to guide their brood during summer migrations to the north. If boats lingered too long in the migration path, they were met by the viciously territorial serpents. The lucky ones knew to make a swift and quiet escape with their ships, and she meant lucky. Even Naomi’s mother, a master of the seas, had vessels nearly capsized by their tusks and tails.

The sound carried beyond the theater area to the further corners of the pavillion, and Mateo briefly turned his head to see if anyone outside this crowd had noticed. There were a few curious faces (mainly children and their parents) who looked up at the illusion in awe, though others carried on unperturbed.

He turned back to the serpent, and saw that more light illusions had flown out of Hiba’s staff. They formed a few smaller serpents, brighter in color, which flocked close to the first serpent as it led them higher above the stage. Isadora’s spotlight followed them as they swam through the air in synchronized twisting and swirling patterns, joining one another in song.

As they circled closer around the theater area a couple of times, showing off well-timed maneuvers that earned bursts of applause from the spectators, Mateo caught Hiba in the corner of his eye. From her billowing sleeves she drew a small square of paper inscribed with thin ink lettering. She flicked it into the air, and the paper burst into a flash of fire.

And just as quickly, the whole pavillion dissolved from Mateo’s sights. Stalls, trees and solid ground had vanished, and all background noise was covered by a pregnant hush. Darkness surrounded them, until an array of tiny lights blinked and swirled into being. Before long, the crowd found themselves sitting in the middle of a galactic cluster, where the brightest star of all shined above: the North Star.

“The crew on our vessel managed to pull us out to safety, but I grew curious as to how often such encounters occurred.” Raadi stood by Hiba once more, holding her staff as she continued her speech. “I asked the captain for records of the sea serpents’ migration patterns, and he gave me an even more invaluable asset.”

Raadi drew three pieces of paper from his sleeve, folded into neat boomerang-like knots. He tossed them one by one into the air, and the papers morphed into their own streaks of light. As with Hiba’s illusions, the streaks gathered like strings rolling up into a ball, and expanded to become different sea creatures: blue caballos marinos, green tortoises, even a gigantic scarlet kraken. They each joined with the serpents as they looped around one last time, before gliding upwards to the North Star.

The crowd’s applause broke out louder, before being quelled by a sharp knock upon the stage. Hiba gave three gentler taps with the staff, and the light illusions she and Raadi conjured formed into a luminous, emerald-colored orb. The orb ballooned into a large globe, and white lines formed around its surface, mapping the various continents of the Ever-Realm.

“The captain showed me all the records of different migration patterns that he and past generations of Khaldounian sailors had collected through their many voyages.” Moving her hand in a curling motion, Hiba conjured an illusory sun, casting light upon her globe.

“The creatures of the sea follow where the cold and warm waters flow. They track the seasons as we still sometimes do with the stars.” Hiba stretched both of her arms out, and summoned her sea beasts once more, in smaller versions that ducked in and out of the surface of her globe. The globe then started to rotate on an axel around the sun, tracking the seasonal paths of the creatures with the sun and the North Star as their constant guide.

As he stared up at the map, Mateo vaguely recalled Abuela and Mamá’s stories about the North Star, how the star’s different positions in relation to the Ever-Realm horizon acted as a compass to early Avaloran sailors. The most fascinating stories recounted how the ancient Maruvians created calendars and predicted turns of fortune from the night sky.

He once tried to map the sky himself, and although he found the process a bit too precision-based (resulting in many scribbled-out and ink-stained parchment notebooks), he loved to just look at the maps from school and compare them to the star and moon charts in his Abuelo’s archives. While the calculations behind the charts felt weighty and tedious back when he was nine years old, something about his Abuelo’s notes on the constellations and the stories they told would keep him up for hours past his bedtime.

“My hope with this Astral Atlas is that all who sail upon the seas will instantly know where and when the most dangerous creatures of the sea might cross their paths, and to see how all life, no matter how monstrous its appearance, follows the same patterns as we do,” Hiba explained, giving a knowing smile.

With another sharp “TACK!” from her staff, her illusions - the globe, beasts, star field - vanished in an instant. Mateo blinked, gathering his senses back to the canvas-filtered sunlight and the general murmur of the exhibition hall. His confusion was shared with some of the younger sorcerers, but the elders looked more quietly impressed with Hiba’s showcase.

“And before you ask: no, you won’t need that whole light show to use the atlas. In fact, one shouldn’t have any trouble carrying one of these around. And yes, everyone will get one to take home,” Hiba finished, eliciting a number of excited whispers.

After he was done interpreting, Raadi reached into his satchel and pulled out a black board segmented into two. He folded out from the part, and from its surface popped out an animated atlas just like the one he and Hiba conjured, though on a smaller scale. The detail was no less impressive on the model, and the board itself was as thin as a school slate.

At a small nod from his master, Raadi closed the board and placed it back in his bag. He joined Hiba in bowing to the audience, who responded in kind with elated applause. Mateo even saw some of them give a standing ovation.

He looked back at Hiba and Raadi, who were signing between themselves, grinning ear to ear as they exchanged words that he wished he could follow. But their expressions carried all the clarity he needed: while Raadi appeared bashful, in contrast to the collected front he presented on stage, his master couldn’t be more proud.

+++

“Incredible...” Cedric muttered to himself.

He’d been watching the Khadounian wizards’ performance from a hidden seating area backstage, located off to the side from the main platform. The longer he thought back to Hiba’s star map, the more his stomach felt like a black hole, warping him from the inside. He wanted to pace around, but he stood stock-still, afraid of making a spectacle.

He’d have expected no less from a wizard of her caliber, but Hiba had created an invaluable aid to sailors and adventurers of all stripes. How could his trick match up? What was a gussied-up child’s toy compared to that?

He hoped that Quarry wouldn’t take notice of his nerves, as the eagle-owl busied himself with treats while resting on his own perch.

“Heh. And she had the mettle to tell me that she came up with all that last minute,” chuckled a sagacious voice from the bench next to his.

Wu-Chang was seated with his oak staff laid across his lap, stroking his long white beard as he looked over Cedric’s shoulder. Hiba and her apprentice were now making their exit towards the opposite end of the stage, while the young master of ceremonies stepped up to the center in a dazzling dash of pink.

As she began raving over Hiba’s act to hype up the audience for their next performer, Wu-Chang stood up and leisurely smoothed out his gold-and-veridian robes.

Cedric could recall a few times in his childhood when he’d seen the Royal Sorcerer of Wei-Ling perform, either for King Roland I or in shows with Cedric’s own father, Goodwin the Great. Goodwin was not a man known for his flattery, and one thing that used to (somewhat) quell Cedric’s anxiety over his father’s approval was that, however critical he was about his son’s magical education, Goodwin would apply the same eagle eye for error on his own rivals.

Wu-Chang was one of the rare few to escape any scathing appraisal, and Cedric could see why. The elder sorcerer was a master of the traditional arts, held a storied record of service, and performed for royals and subjects alike with the same gentle reverence that eased his crowds into some truly wondrous spectacles. For all his years of service however, Wu-Chang rarely spoke of retirement, which made Cedric wonder how he himself would fare the further he got along in his years.

“Hopefully I won’t lull our guests too well,” Wu-Chang joked, standing by the curtain leading up to the main stage.

Cedric tried to laugh, but the pathetic exhale that came out of his mouth sounded more like a wheeze.

“Is your throat alright?” asked Wu-Chang, clearly concerned.

“It is, it is,” Cedric assured him. Out of habit, he cleared his throat, immediately undercutting his claim.

“Do you need to sit down?”

“No, thank you, I’m fine.” Then Cedric plopped down on the bench, briefly spooking Quarry. In place of smacking himself on the forehead for making a fool out of himself, Cedric gave a blithe shrug.

“Oh, perhaps I didn’t get as much sleep as I thought.” His words weren’t doing much to save face, judging from Wu-Chang’s slightly raised brow. Cedric avoided his gaze, trying to seem distracted by giving Quarry another snack.

“They wouldn’t be out there if they didn’t want to see you,” said Wu-Chang.

“Pardon?” Cedric asked, looking back up.

Wu-Chang gave a small smile. “I’m just recalling what my old master told me. He said that all I could do was give them the show I prepared. Whatever I did, be it a success, failure, mediocrity, was still a learning experience, and after that I only had to focus on how to make my next act even better.”

Cedric bit back a groan. However well-intentioned, he was not in the mood for a pep talk.

“I should say so,” Cedric stated, effecting a proud tone and stance. “A Royal Sorcerer must strive for nothing less than excellence.”

“An admirable goal, in theory. It would depend on how one measures the concept of excellence,” Wu-Chang countered.

“I think that neither you nor I have little to worry about in that regard. Experience and expertise should speak for themselves,” Cedric touted. Quarry flew up to his shoulder and gave two happy hoots.

“I can see that. You’ve improved considerably since you were a child, Cedric.” Wu-Chang had replied with nothing but sincerity, but that didn’t stop Cedric’s shoulders from tensing nor his throat from tightening.

“Oh, you… you remember me from back then?” Cedric uttered.

“How could I forget? Your dear father and mother always had so much to share about you.”

“Ah, as I’d expect,” he sighed.

“And! Without further ado! We’ve got another spectacular guest lined up and ready to go! Let’s see who’s behind Curtain Number Twooooo!” boomed the emcee. Cedric had taken note during rehearsals, but that young woman’s voice could fill a canyon.

“I bid you luck,” said Wu-Chang.

“Yes, I-” Before Cedric could finish, the other sorcerer vanished with a snap of his fingers, leaving a puff of scarlet smoke. The red smoke quickly evaporated, though Cedric still had to fan some of it away from his eyes.

“-To you as well,” he finished drily. He didn’t have to see the ecstatic welcome Wu-Chang was getting from the crowd. Their cheers were proof aplenty.

“Greetings. My name is Wu-Chang, Royal Sorcerer to His Imperial Highness Emperor Quon of Wei-Ling.”

As the introductory speech went on, Cedric sat back in his bench, and Quarry settled onto his lap. He gently stroked a hand down Quarry’s crest, letting his familiar’s quiet hoots fill the space.

He couldn’t let his nerves get the better of him, not after all those days of planning and practice. He never felt more prepared for a performance, and he especially didn’t want his new familiar to look bad because of him. Unfortunately, one thing hadn’t changed: the waiting was always the worst part.

[mayanangel]

Oohhh fluffy and cute frian/maycury please! I alawys thought they are a LOT like Lilly and Marshall from HIMYM the longer you think about it the more sense it makes! Could you do Something with that pretty please?

Hey, anon! Thanks for the request! Unfortunately I’m not the biggest HIMYM fan, so while I do know OF Lilly and Marshall, I’m not like, the biggest expert on their relationship dynamic. 

So maybe I can offer you some fluffy and cute modern!AU Frian instead?

And by “fluffy and cute modern!AU” I mean something that somehow became a makeup artist!AU, because I’m a terrible person :(

Again, sorry for the suuuper late fill, but I hope you’ll like it! And of course, feel free to request something else if you want to. XOXO

x-x-x-x-x-x

“Don’t move.“

“I’m not.”

“I just sai-..! Brian! I said don’t move!” Freddie half-laughed, half-complained, grabbing his boyfriend’s fluffy - and giggling - face between his hands. “Now look what you’ve done - your eyeliner’s gone all crooked!”

Brian laughed. “I’m sorry, babe, I really am. Can it be fixed? I’ll be still this time, I promise.”

Freddie narrowed his eyes at his boyfriend, sneering jokingly. “You sit on a throne of lies, you liar.”

Brian chuckled, shrugging at the camera. “Well, I tried.”

Freddie flipped him the bird, while rummaging through the mess of cosmetics on his filming vanity for a makeup wipe. "And… I’m out of makeup wipes too, apparently.”

“Oh, are those the wet tissues you make Roger and I use after we perform? They smell nice.” Brian spun idly on his boyfriend’s spinning stool, a delicate finger just barely scratching at his nose. He knew better than to just rub at the itch the way he usually would; the last time he did that, they had to pause shooting altogether, due to Freddie almost bursting into tears over Brian ‘ruining his contour’.

Enter John, swooping in with an emergency cuddle while Roger laughed his ass off behind the camera.

“Ugh, whatever. Fuck those wipes! We’re doing this old school with a q-tip and some makeup remover. Now stay still, love!”

Brian practically held his breath as Freddie cupped his face with one hand, and then very carefully worked a wet q-tip near his eye with the other.

It was a strange sensation, having someone prodding around so near to his eyeball - but he trusted Freddie with his life. And to be honest, he really did try to keep perfectly still - after all, Freddie had been begging him to do this video for weeks, and he wanted nothing more than to make his boyfriend happy - but he just couldn’t help being both curious about everything Freddie was doing to his face, while also just appreciating his boyfriend’s very focused, and almost uncharacteristic seriousness, while he worked his magic.

And could you blame him? His boyfriend was gorgeous.

Today Freddie had done his own makeup hours before they even started filming, and like always, Brian had been distracted from the moment he saw him fully glam’d up. He just… he looked like a fucking work of art. Exactly how his boyfriend managed to look both prettier and more handsome at the same time when he was all dolled up, he had no idea. All he knew was that, beyond all the eye shadow and lipstick, he was just as mesmerised with this part of his boyfriend - or ‘Melina’, as Freddie dubbed his feminine persona - as he was with Freddie himself.

Sure she was a force of nature to contend with, his Melina; just as much a runaway storm as his Freddie. But he couldn’t stop loving either if he tried.

Fully dolled up, or hair slicked back, dressed head to toe in leather - Brian was hopelessly enamored with his boyfriend in his entirety.

Of course their fans knew about Freddie’s dabbling in makeup and the occasional drag. And of course, there were those who tried to make Freddie feel bad about it. But he and the others had decided long ago - before Freddie started his Melina youtube channel - that they would stand by their lead singer no matter what. God knows the amount of times he’s walked in to find John calming an irate Roger down from another screaming match with his laptop screen - all because some troll had commented about how Freddie was the death of decency in rock music.

As if rock and roll was ever 'decent’.

Those bastards could fuck off.

But Freddie - oh how his man just kept on being amazing and outstanding, despite the shit people were throwing at them.

Instead of giving up on drag and makeup, their lead singer had instead gotten even better at his craft, and eventually started his own youtube channel, where he could be honest and open about being queer and doing drag, while also being a rockstar. His makeup tutorials were especially popular; and as they grew as a band, Freddie began to grow as an exceptional makeup artist.

Told you my bloody art degree would come in handy, he once told them, and Brian couldn’t agree more. He’d practically lost track of how many times he’s watched Freddie paint his face, and yet the process still never failed to take his breath away.

The way every movement, every action, every deliberate touch - slowly transformed all that was Freddie, until Melina finally took her place; it was fucking artistic poetry in motion. In fact, he even suggested once that Freddie do their shows in drag, but his boyfriend had laughingly declined.

'Melina’ isn’t made for singing on stage in a rock band, dear, he had told him. Melina was beauty, Melina was glam. Melina was fantasy.

But Freddie however - Freddie was made for the stage. Freddie was music, Freddie was performance. Freddie was for their fans, who had stuck by them, from their days of singing cover songs on Roger’s youtube channel, to performing original material on their official band channel, to them releasing their album and touring the country performing live almost every other day of the week.

For those fans, Freddie was Freddie, and Freddie enjoyed keeping it that way. Perhaps Melina could drop by once in a while, he mused, but at the end of the day, if he was going to stand on stage and sing while Brian, Roger, and John played their hearts out, he was going to do so as Freddie Mercury.

Besides, he cheekily added, he very much enjoyed being unmistakably male when teasing Brian during his solos.

Kept the thirsty ladies (and boys!) in their audience suitably reminded of their places, should any of them get the dreadful idea that his boyfriend only really 'liked’ him because he wore makeup and occasionally did drag.

Well, joke’s on them. Brian’s boyfriend may like to wear makeup and wear lingerie - but he still had a dick, so there.

Without even meaning to, Brian felt a fond smile form on his face. In front of him, Freddie finally stepped back to assess his work, eyes darting left to right to check whether Brian’s eyeliner was finally even. Brian hoped it was - he really didn’t want more things poking near his eye.

Freddie whooped. “Perfect! Done! Now, we just need to fix the foundation a little - as you can see, some of it’s come off around here - but other than that, I think we’ll just need to pop on some mascara, and then mayyyyyybe some fake lashes? What do you think, babe? Does this… supermodel, slash Hollywood starlet, slash Fairy Queen fantasy need some fake lashes?”

Not gonna lie, Brian kinda liked how Freddie described him as some sort of cross between an ideal and fantastical beauty. Made him feel like a real showstopper - a stunner.

He turned to the camera, puckering his lips and striking some semblence of a pinup pose. “Then I’ll finally be prettiest of them all?” he asked demurely.

“Oh please,” Freddie grinned, pecking a brief kiss onto his lips. “You know you’ve always been pretty, love.” He giggled when he saw that some of his lipstick had transferred to Brian’s cupid’s bow. “How else did you think you convinced me to date you?”

Brian straightened in his seat, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Well, I was thinking it was because of my big pe-…”

Freddie gasped, dropping his mascara and scrambling to cover Brian’s mouth. “BRIAN HAROLD MAY, DON’T YOU DARE!”

John and Roger broke down into peals of laughter off camera.

Brian snickered behind Freddie’s palm, gently removing it so he could smile indulgently at his boyfriend. “I was going to say PE-rsonality, love. Personality. Honestly, Fred. This is a family show, calm down.”

Freddie responded by rubbing indignantly at the trace of red on his lips, feigning annoyance and muttering under his breath.

“Yeah, Fred, let Brian tell us more about his 'big personality’!” Roger hollered off camera.

Freddie swiftly turned towards his giggling bandmates. “Shut up, Rog!” he mock scolded, embarrassment and amusement breaking out all over his face. “We are not doing that, okay - NO, sto..- John stop encouraging him! - I repeat, NO ONE needs to know about my boyfriend’s… personality or whatever, alright? This is a makeup tutorial - and you BASTARDS are trying to get me banned from youtube, when I’m not even halfway done with his face! Shame, the lot of you!”

Brian laughed heartily, taking Freddie’s hand to get his attention.

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry, babe, I’ll be good now, I promise. No more talk about… big… personalities.. Whether they be mine or yours!” He turned towards the camera, pointing a finger at their imaginary audience. “No more!”

“You insufferable knob, I hate you!” Freddie hid his face in his hands, eyeing Brian through the gaps between his fingers.

Brian batted his perfectly painted eyelids at his boyfriend. “Liar. You love me.”

Freddie pretended to consider for a moment, cheeks burning red, before giving in and looking up with a bashful smile.

“Fine, you’re right. I do. I love you.” He leaned in for a kiss, stopping halfway to grab a tissue to press over Brian’s lips, then planting a firm smooch on Brian’s tissue-protected face. Brian grinned at his boyfriend’s ingenuity, wholly impressed when Freddie pulled away smiling and lipstick transfer-free.

“Oi! Get a room!”

Brian took the tissue from Freddie and threw it in John’s direction, the other man scurrying to hide behind an equally giggling Roger.

Freddie laughed, flipping off their friends for good measure. “Alright, enough! Let’s get back to work!” He reached for his mascara, manhandling Brian’s head back into the perfect position.

“Now, you need to sit perfectly still and hush, alright? For real, this time! - or I swear I will stab you in the eye with my mascara wand, and let Roger turn you into one of him memes.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Try me, love.”

Brian grinned, already thinking about the many ways he could use those words against his boyfriend later. “Very well. Do your worst, babe.”

Freddie smirked. Roger and John rolled their eyes.

“Gayyyyyy~!”

“Shut the fuck up, Rog!”

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

“….And this is the final look, guys! What do you think, Brian? Did I do a good job?”

Brian stared at his reflection in the mirror.

“Oh my…Fred, you did amazing! I look… oh, I look gorgeous! This is… oh wow. This is fantastic!”

“Really? You really like it?” Freddie asked earnestly. Brian nodded with enthusiasm.

“Freddie, babe… I love it!”

Freddie beamed, feeling probably the proudest he’s ever felt since coming out to their fans all those years ago.

To think that they would be able to have a moment like this after everything they had all been through, was humbling. Queen was doing great, his boyfriend was literally the best boyfriend in the world (John can kiss his ass if he thinks otherwise, no offense to Roger), and their fans - as far as he knew - loved and accepted all of them just the way they were, no questions asked.

Freddie honestly could not have asked for a better moment to bask in.

Well… then again.

He watched as Brian gingerly poked and prodded at his masterpiece, still enthralled by his new face. Freddie bit his bottom lip. There was one other thing that he’s been dying to ask of Brian. One other thing that he’s been dying to have Brian do for him.

Something that his wonderful boyfriend has consistently - albeit politely, because Brian - declined to do ever since he first offhandedly suggested it.

But then… considering how well he was taking the makeup thing - perhaps now would be a good time to ask?

“Uh oh.” Brian was turned towards him; mirror put away, camera still recording.

“What?”

“I know that look.”

“I didn’t even say anything!”

“But you were thinking it, and I love you, but the answer is no.”

Freddie pouted. “But Brimiiiiiiii…”

“No, Freddie.”

“But-”

“I already let you put me in makeup, babe, what more could you want?”

Another pout, but even closer to his face, because Freddie was now dangerously close to sitting on his lap. “…..Please?”

Brian sighed. “Freddie…”

“Just for one night! I promise it will be amazing, love! You’ll be amazing!”

“Freddie, I- I… you know I can’t dance…” Now it was Brian’s turn to pout, insecurity looming it’s ugly head. Of course he knew what Freddie was suggesting. He’d been suggesting it for almost as long as he’s been begging him to do this video. And it wasn’t that he didn’t like the scene or anything - hell, he probably enjoyed it more than Freddie did!

It was just… the whole over the top theatricality of it all could be so intimidating. He enjoyed watching Freddie and their other friends when they were into it, but he just couldn’t see himself ever having that kind of confidence to pull it off.

Freddie was having none of it, though, reaching out and lifting his boyfriend’s beautiful face to look at him.

“You stop that right now. You know as well as I do that it’s not about dancing, it’s about being and enjoying yourself. And in my personal opinion, darling, I think you’d be magnificent at it!”

Brian blushed. “You really think so..?”

Before Freddie could answer, Roger beat him to it. “I mean… if it’ll make you feel any better, John and I would definitely join in if you agree to it, Brian.”

“Yeah, Brian,” John added. “Roger’s been begging me to put him in drag for ages now, we could make a night out of it. What do you say?”

Freddie smiled, hopefulness blooming anew on his face. Brian worried his bottom lip, tasting lip gloss on the tip of his tongue. It tasted like sweet peaches.

“So… what do you say, Brimi? Ladies night out at a drag club in full drag? I’ll make sure you’re extra pretty.”

Brian smiled softly despite himself, already knowing that he had lost this fight. Who was he kidding? He never stood a chance.

“Fine.” He agreed, taking Freddie’s warm hands in his. “On one condition.”

Freddie lit up exponentially, already thrumming with excitement and ideas. “Anything, love.”

“Promise me…. that we’ll be prettier queens than John and Roger.”

Freddie burst into laughter, throwing his arms around Brian while their two friends protested loudly off to the side.

FUCK OFF AND GET A DAMN ROOM, YOU WANKERS.

Brian joined his boyfriend laughing, kissing the side of his head as he held him close. A bit of lip gloss stained his temples, but Freddie couldn’t care less. He was just elated to be sharing another part of his world with Brian. His beautiful, sensational, and wonderful lover, Brian May.

He pulled away with a final kiss on Brian’s lips, then turned towards the camera.

“Well, that’s it guys! I just did my boyfriend’s makeup, and you heard it here first! Queen will be doing a drag night out - Coming to you soon!! Keep a lookout on all of our social media, which will be linked below in the description, and make sure you subscribe…”

Brian smiled to himself as he watched Freddie close out the video. He looked positively giddy, grinning from ear to ear, mind probably already designing the outfit he wanted Brian’s drag persona to wear. Well, he thought, he’s already been many things. A good son, good kid.

School nerd, space nerd. Rock musician, rock guitarist.

A closeted fool who once pined for another’s love; and now, an out and proud fool who was shamelessly in love with the love of his life.

Honestly, what harm could it possibly bring to add another thing to that list?

Besides, he thought to himself as Freddie slid onto his lap, if it made Freddie happy, then it was well worth doing, wasn’t it?

He saw Roger in the corner of his eye throwing his hands up in exasperation as John rushed to stop the camera’s recording; the set lights going dim a few moments later. John had all but dragged Roger out of the room by then, no doubt to get some alone time of their own - the horny bastards.

His attention was brought back to the man his arms when he felt Freddie leave his lap, moving to clear a space on the makeup table - just enough for him to hop up on, and beckon to Brian, legs spread apart oh so invitingly.

Brian wasted no time to stand between them, hands on Freddie’s hips while Freddie leaned back on his elbows, shamelessly smudged bottom lip between his teeth. Undoubtedly Brian knew his own makeup was probably ruined, but judging by his boyfriend’s reaction, it was far from an issue at that very moment.

In fact, it might well be the exact opposite of a problem.

Brian smirked. Oh yeah. Definitely worth it.