#i had my choir a few years ago but the director moved away and the new one made it less chill and fun

[halfalgorithm]

I miss singing in a choir so bad 😭

#i had my choir a few years ago but the director moved away and the new one made it less chill and fun #and also she just doesn't have the vision for the group the old director had #so it wasn't fun anymore :( #plus also I'm living an hour and a half away from the group now so. alas. #i sing all the time on my own but... singing along with a song and singing chorally hit different #anyways. moral of the story is if i could read sheet music better and such I'd attempt starting my own version of that choir here in my area

[willownoir1112]

Hello beautiful people of Tumblr! Wyn here with day one of White Rose Week 2021 to break my silence! I hope everyone enjoys, and I'll see you tomorrow with day 2!

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Love Bites

Summer Rose vanished, and Ruby suffered.

All her life, all Ruby has ever wanted was to belong. She tries so hard to fit in, first with her older sister's friends. But, they all told her to go away. That she's a baby compared to them. "Why would I want to bring you too?" Yang would always declare. "You're still just a baby!" Her friends would laugh with her, call her names as well, and leave her behind just like Yang did.

Her sister's words hurt her, and destroyed any chance of them having a sisterly relationship.

She tried so hard to be a good daughter. But, her father spent more of his time worrying about his troops, his responsibilities, his duties to Goddess and Country. "One day you will understand, Ruby." He would always tell her. "One day, you'll have to make the same sacrifices for a family of your own." His words never changed, nor his actions. He would be gone constantly, leaving her and Yang alone for weeks or even months at a time, meaning she had to grow up far too quickly.

Her father's priorities hurt her and robbed her of her childhood.

She tried so hard to be a good student. But, subjects like english, history, anything really to do with reading simply didn't make sense to her. She could stare at the page of a book for hours and all she could see is a jumble of letters. Everyone called her simple, stupid, a waste of time. "Oh look, it's little Stupid Ruby!" Cardin Winchester would declare every day at school. He and his cronies would torment and belittle her, and once even cut her long hair off. She suffered in silence, her arms the only evidence of her inner pain. Arms she always kept covered even in the worst heat of summer.

Her peers hurt her with their words, with their actions, and made her withdraw further into herself.

She finally stopped being a good sibling. She shut her sister out of her life first, Yang never noticing that Ruby stayed closeted in her room constantly. She was the bright shiny sun of everyone else's lives, with her outgoing and boisterous personality. Everyone's but Ruby's. If Yang is the bright sun, then Ruby has become the darkest moon of the family, and she likes it that way now.

She finally stopped being a good daughter. She did her chores without complaint and without needing to be told, save late at night when her father would already be in bed or Yang too preoccupied with her latest significant other. He never noticed that his younger daughter dresses in nothing but blacks and reds, or that she never let her hair grow back longer than above her shoulders. The career he chose to continue to support his family had a long ago casualty, and Ruby keeps it that way.

She finally stopped being a good student. She kept going to school, despite all but failing in everything. She went through the motions, ignored everyone when they called her things like Queen of Darkness or Salem's heir, or even worse. She ignored the shoves, the bullying, everything done to her until they all finally grew bored of it and her. She was finally left alone to sit in the deepest corner of all her classes, doodling to pass the time until she could return to her room and her solitude.

But then Ms. Peach, the choir director, invited the secretly shy and lonely girl to her class one day and encouraged her to sing. From the moment she heard the piano play, her soul became exultant, and her voice rose in response. Even Principle Ozpin, who was walking by at that moment stopped and listened as the shy, moody, rather dark girl who kept to herself was in possession of a voice that could bring even him to tears. Peach was enthusiastic in teaching her how to read music, how to project her voice, how to truly appreciate her hidden talent for music.

But, Taiyang finally noticed when he was forced to retire. He noticed the true state of his family, and decided to take firm control. He destroyed her growing dreams when he declared she and Yang both were to join Beacon Military Academy to finish school. That they needed discipline and not freedom to thrive like he once did. That neither of his children will follow in his long disappeared wife's footsteps, and lack the discipline needed to succeed where she obviously failed.

He was furious when Glynda Goodwitch admitted her as Ruby, allowing her to keep that one small bit of freedom.

She suffered like never before at Beacon. She was admitted two years early as a favor to her father, and she hated it. Her hate translated itself into her becoming a powerful fighter with her chosen weapon, a red and black fifty caliber sniper scythe she named Crescent Rose, and soon where she was once either dereided or ignored, she was now feared. Even her own sister fears her now, and that makes her happy.

She is the Darkest Reaper of Vale, and she hates them all.

But one person did not fear her. One person saw past her pain, her grief for her denied life. Weiss was from Atlas, a mysterious, inclusive land far to the north, where they say even the Grimm do not tread. A land of dark magic, of creatures even fouler than the enemy of the world. A land even the demiurge Salem has forsaken. Weiss did not fear the Darkest Reaper, and took an odd delight in hearing the whispers about her, about them both.

She has her own secrets, secrets Ruby will know all too soon.

She cannot help but to feel an attraction to the white haired girl from the north. Her porcelain skin is always smooth and cool to the touch. Her brilliant blue eyes are like the clear blue skies she would once sit under with her long departed mother while they laugh and imagine whimsical beasts and imaginary places. Her long white hair moves like the finest of silk curtains as she walks from class to class, her nose turned up to their peers as if they are all beneath her. All except for her. She treats the Reaper with respect, with courtesy, and after a time, holds out a hand of friendship to her, one she takes willingly.

She finally has a friend, a real friend. Someone who cares for her, Ruby Rose.

But certain things stand out to her as well. The way she barely eats anything but meat, and even then almost bloody and nearly raw. The way she approaches every mock battle with the cunning of a predator on the hunt. The skill with which she wields her rapier, a dust revolver styled weapon she has named Myrtenaster, with near lethal intent even during the simplest of spars against anyone willing to challenge her. She is the only one who can stand against her, her own formidable rage and loathing a match for the heiress's feral cunning and ferocity.

But one late night, during a restless night they both secretly shared, a truth is told, and their lives are changed forever.

She herself couldn't sleep. It was the one thing she could always count on being able to do. It was her refuge from the reality of her world, and she retreated to it every chance she could. But tonight, she tosses and turns, she begs and pleads with the treacherous brain that won't stop thinking, and finally surrenders and gets dressed. Taking up her scythe, she easily steals away into the Emerald Forest, the guards ignoring her out of fear. She runs deeply into the darkened woods, no fear for the Grimm that hide in the shadows as well as whatever other creatures may dwell within.

She never realizes that a pair of blue eyes follow her, belonging to the single person who doesn't fear her. The only person who is beginning to secretly adore her.

She finally stops near the old temple to the Brother of Light, which has been long abandoned when he left Remnant to it's fate. Sitting down, she begins to cry deep tears of pain and sorrow. She hates her life now, she hates being taught to kill, to end the lives of others. She despises the fact that she is good at it. She never wanted this. All she ever wanted was to be a good sibling, a good daughter, a good student. All she ever wanted was to belong, to love a certain white haired girl and be loved in return.

She almost screams in terror when the great white furred head lays in her lap, with sad blue eyes that reflect her pain.

She stares at the great beast, marveling at the fact that a wolf has appeared here. One of the few things she has managed to remember from her poor studies is that the Grimm killed all the wolves when they first came to Vale. None were spared, and somehow she knows this one knows that. To her surprise, she begins to pet the wild creature, smiling softly at the way it's tail begins to wag as it whines. And then she begins to talk to it. She talks about her mother, her father, her sister, her life. She is soon sobbing in grief at the sadness of her life thus far, and is surprised to see tears in the white wolf's eyes as well.

But she forgot that sorrow is a feast for the Grimm, and they soon gather around her and the white wolf both.

She makes her decision. She throws her scythe to the ground and gives in completely to her sorrow. She is so tired. She is so tired of being turned into someone she wants nothing to do with. She's so tired of hoping people will finally love her instead of hate her or fear her. She is so tired of dreaming of a pair of blue eyes that will never look lovingly at her. She is ready, and the Grimm will feed well on her. But she doesn't expect the snarling, the sudden sounds of battle. Opening her silver eyes, they widen as she sees the once four legged wolf has vanished, a naked Weiss snarling in her rage as she wields Myrtenaster against the foul creatures.

"YOU KILLED THEM ALL!"

She stares at the rage filled young woman. She's never seen her fight with this much savagery, this much hate. Even in battles in which she is outclassed or outnumbered, she is still controlled. She uses superior tactics, the icy calm she is infamous for, and her obviously hidden rage to still rip victory from the jaws of defeat.

"ALL THE PACKS OF VALE ARE DEAD!"

She picks Crescent Rose back up. The white haired girl is beginning to frighten her, and she does not frighten easily. She watches in growing terror as an Alpha Beowolf appears, howling in challenge, Weiss's answering howl frightening her to her very soul. She watches as the white haired woman tosses her sword to the side and begins to growl as she grows. She listens to the popping of bone and sinew as fur begins to spring from her bare skin. She stares on in horror as the one friend she has ever made turns into…

A werewolf. A creature from Remnant's darkest stories has come to life before her, and is defending her while taking vengeance for the long dead wolves of Vale.

"You will not hurt my Ruby…"

She screams as Weiss leaps towards the Alpha, her fangs bared and her still hand shaped front paws slashing at the creature of darkness. The Alpha charges her as well, it's own jaws wide open to bite and tear at the white werewolf, it's own claws slashing at her unarmored and exposed flanks. She hears her friend's scream of pain as the Alpha strikes harder than she can, and causes more damage than she can possibly manage in return, and she finally leaps into action. Weiss is the first person to be her friend. She is the first person to treat her like a person. She is the first person she's allowed herself to start having feelings for in her short life.

She may be ready to die, but she will not let Weiss die for her own selfish desires.

Crescent Rose strikes the Beowolf quickly, breaking the Alpha and the werewolf apart as the Grimm leaps back to avoid the deathblow Ruby aims at it. But Ruby is enraged now. She sees the bright red blood upon the moonlit ground, and it adds to her fury. She hears the whimpers of the injured wolf, and it increases her rage. She roars in her righteous anger as her scythe becomes a blur, the Alpha soon howling in pain before Ruby's final blow comes in her scythe hooking around its neck before she pulls the trigger, decapitating the beast with one final roar of triumph. It takes her a moment to calm herself, a long moment in which she has forgotten her anger, her sorrow, her self loathing. And then she finally remembers Weiss. In a panic, she begins to look for her friend, desperate to ensure that she is safe.

It doesn't take her long to find her, and her scream of anguish can be heard back at Beacon.

Weiss has managed to get back to a small cave, her clothes as well as some supplies stacked neatly in the back. She herself is panting heavily as blood flows steadily from her injuries. But her tail thumps on the ground weakly as Ruby slides to the ground in front of her. She doesn't hesitate, but begins to treat the slashing wounds, bandaging them carefully while doing her best to ignore the pain filled shrieks from the badly injured werewolf.

"Oh Goddesses, I'm so sorry, Weiss. I'm so so sorry!" Is her litany as she keeps at her work, until the blood finally stops. Until the white wolf goes silent save for her panting.

The sun rises, then sets once more, but Ruby has yet to leave the white werewolf's side. Weiss has slept the entire time, but she has stayed awake. She is too scared to close her eyes, terrified that if she relaxes her vigil for even a moment, she will lose the most important person in her life. But her body's needs will not be denied, and she finally falls asleep, the large canine head still in her lap and her grip firm on Crescent Rose's handle.

She dreams of white fur and sky blue eyes. Of days spent watching the skies and laughing. Of feeling loved once more, and being confident in being able to return that love.

She moans as she feels the urgency of the lips on her own. Of the feeling of cold skin upon her own now bare skin. Of cold hands exploring her body and her own hands wandering across smooth, uninjured skin in return. She moans in longing as lips caress her skin with feather light kisses. As her own fingers discover places on the other willing body that bring moans of pleasure from a voice she has come to adore since beginning at Beacon.

But she moans loudly as teeth sink into her collarbone, a tender, almost loving bite from the woman she knows she loves deeply.

"Ruby…" Her voice is husky as she releases the love bite, full of longing and need. She can feel a certain heat against her leg that is foreign to the cold that the rest of her skin belies. She herself feels so hot, so needed. She has never felt like this before, and she wants more. She needs more. But her eyes widen as she catches her lover's hands as they grab at the hem of her panties, her face full of fear once more.

"Weiss… I…"

"I know, Ruby." Weiss smiles softly at the Reaper. "I know what you are. But I have wanted you for months now. Since I saw your strength for myself. Since I got to know the real you, and not your mask of anger and self loathing that you hide behind."

"Weiss…"

"Ruby, I am the last of my pack." The werewolf informs her sadly. "I came to Vale seeking the packs that once roamed here, hoping to join them and be safe." She sighs sadly, her blue eyes dimming. "I am beginning to fear I am the last of my kind."

She sits up and pulls the werewolf into her arms. She knows all the signs of sorrow, being well acquainted with them herself. "I… Weiss I'm damaged. Why would you want someone like me?"

Their eyes meet, quicksilver staring into sky blue. "Because I have been alone since I was a child. But you make me feel like I am home now." She cuddles deeper into the Reaper's arms. "I feel safe with you, and I know I can trust you with my secret."

Ruby takes a moment to think, to gather her thoughts while considering everything she has been told. But her thoughts always return to a pair of sky blue eyes she loves to look into. Coming to a decision, she lifts the werewolf's face by her chin with a single finger and kisses her deeply, while her free hand pulls her even closer.

This may be a mistake, but it is going to be the best one she ever makes.

The cavern is soon filled with their moans, their cries of pleasure, their whispered words of love, their need for one another. Their lovemaking is tender at times, frenzied at others, and intense throughout. Morning found them once again asleep, this time in each other's arms and in a tangle of limbs, a part of Ruby still inside the white werewolf, who smiles as she sleeps deeply. They wake upon that glorious morning and decide that Beacon has nothing left for them, and decide to seek their fortunes elsewhere. Someplace where no one knows either of them.

Someplace where their future children can grow up safely…

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Weiss declares her love for her, and for the werewolf, she will throw everything away for a future with her...

Ruby opens one silver eye, smiling at the blue eyed pup staring back at her eagerly as she whines. Sitting up, she yawns as she stretches, her mouth opening wide as her fangs gleam in the light of the morning sunlight. Bowing her head down low, she nuzzles the white haired silver eyed pup tenderly before the two of them leave the comforts of the small, modest home she and Weiss have built together. It has been a decade since she and the white werewolf left Vale far behind and traveled to Mistral. To their surprise, as they explored the deepest parts of the wilds of Anima, they encountered a village full of others like Weiss, led by a lioness named Pyrrha Nikos and her own mate, a human woman named Nora.

She had heard of Pyrrha, who had been reported killed in a massive battle at Haven Academy. A report fabricated by the woman herself so she too could escape with her own mate and their hard won freedom...

They had met so many others, who had fled the destruction of their own packs and prides, their own groups and hutches. They met Velvet, who was a kind and gentle soul of a wererabbit and her mate Coco, who was the heiress of Mistral's largest corporation and their secret benefactor. They met Blake, a panther who loves to read, and her chameleon mate Ilia. There had even been a tearful reunion between Weiss and her older sister Winter, who had also barely survived the destruction of their pack and had also fled. They even met a pair of birds who squabbled constantly, an overly violent Raven and her dusty, drunken Qrow of a brother.

But the biggest shock comes when they reach one small cabin in particular, where a lonely woman lives. A lonely woman long thought vanished by the young woman, but who in truth had been forced to leave by the man she thought loved her.

Ruby sobs as she rushes into her mother's arms, Summer Rose holding her tightly as she too weeps in joy. A mother and her daughter are reunited to their eternal joy, and Weiss cheers in her happiness for them both.

They talked late into the night, the white werewolf asleep in her mate's lap as mother and daughter catch themselves up on years of their lives. Summer is livid at how Ruby has been treated, how she has suffered for so long because of her absence. Ruby had been furious to discover that her mother had been driven off due to a twist of fate, as she had been bitten by another werewolf during a mission. She had been bitten to save her life, and had been punished for it.

Ruby made her own decision that same night, and smiled as her beloved sank her fangs into her skin in a love bite that would change her forever. She turned willingly, determined that Weiss, her sister, and her own mother will not be the last of their kind.

She quietly cheered her mother onward as she found the courage to move on with Raven, who adored her and treated her with kindness, respect, and love. She had happily held her baby sister when she was born two years later, Weiss still at her side and a smile on her own face to match the look of peace in her eyes. She and Weiss had themselves celebrated the birth of their twin pups a year later, naming them after both their mothers.

But the biggest surprise is still to come.

She still checks her scroll from time to time, she and Pyrrha both agreeing that they cannot remain ignorant of the outside world. There is still danger out there, both from the humans and faunus as well as the Grimm, and all while quietly offering safe haven to others like them, as well as their families. They as well as Raven and Nora are the defenders and leaders of their small community, and they take their responsibilities seriously. But Ruby had been surprised to find an email waiting for her one day, when she had travelled far to the south before turning it on, a feat she can accomplish with ease thanks to her semblance and now enhanced senses and superior stamina.

She never expected to hear from her sister ever again.

Downloading it, she returns to the village and her mate, asking her to read it for her. Weiss of course does so, having been the one who finally helped the Reaper figure out that she was not stupid like everyone in her life claimed, but struggled with severe dyslexia. She and Summer have been helping her learn to finally read and write, but it is a slow process, one she still finds herself getting frustrated with as well as embarrassed. Opening it, she soon stops to summon Summer, the two of them sobbing at the state of the brawler's life since they fled. Tai has placed his blame on his eldest for her disappearance, and she has suffered greatly for it. Her life is a disaster now, and she has already been in a failed marriage. She begs Ruby to at least reassure her that she is alive, that she is at least doing well, that her suffering is worth it if it means that the sister she long ignored is finally happy.

That they have traded places, and that her sister is finally whole in spirit and at peace.

Pyrrha does not hesitate to give her permission to bring Yang back. To allow them to reunite, so that she can see for herself that her wishes are indeed true, and that Ruby is happy and thriving. She goes and meets Yang at Mistral's airship port, where the two of them meet in a long overdue hug between sisters, and not the strangers they have been all their lives. They return together, where Yang is also overjoyed to be reunited with her own mother, Raven. Ruby herself nods in satisfaction that her sister is on her way to a peace of mind she now enjoys, and is grateful that she too settles into life in their village, calling it home as well.

Only she and Weiss bear witness to Winter sinking her fangs into Yang's flesh, the two of them falling in love in this place they too call home.

Summer and Luna play happily with the other children, who include their cousins and their aunt. They are gentle with their younger brother, and fiercely protective of their newborn sister. Ruby and Weiss have slowly become the leaders of their still growing safe haven, and lead both by excellent example as well as with hard learned wisdom and knowledge. They share a deep, beautiful commitment to one another that many envy, one forged in mutual understanding and undying love.

Weiss Schnee came into Ruby's life, and she has prospered...

#White Rose Week 2021 #white rose #ruby rose #weiss schnee #Day One #werewolf Weiss #Trans Ruby #here we go!

[purpleyellow]

When my love blooms

BTS 8th member

Sunny’s masterlist

“Sunny's expeciences during When Our Love Blooms”

a/n: JUST FYI, Jinyoung plays a dude named Jaehyun and Sunny plays the character named Jisoo.  Your opinion is very important for me, send feedback and requests anytime 💜 Also, don’t be shy and interact a little, ask box is always open

DAY 1

Looking at herself in the mirror, Sunny fixed her now brown hair and snapped a quick picture. Sending it to the BTS group chat with an “I should have bangs more often :p” she quickly locked her phone and put it away, leaving the small changing trailer the stylists had led her to.

“Sunny, let’s go this way so you can do a table reading before we start shooting” One of the producers called her to one big room where most of the staff were already seated in a big table.

Looking for her name tag, she saw her empty spot next to Got7’s Jinyoung, who was already seated playing on his phone. The few times Sunny had met him before, they never really interacted that much, since she usually stuck to talking to Bambam because they’ve known each other since trainees. Bowing respectfully, she sat down next to him trying not to stay too close.

“Excited to start shooting?” Jinyoung tried to make the atmosphere less awkward, turning towards her as he took a sip of his coffee.

“Yes, a little nervous as well” Sunny nodded, suddenly trying to remember all of the acting classes she had taken the week prior.

“You’ll be fine, table readings are a great way to get used to the storyline and build confidence in your character” he smiled sweetly at her.

Smiling a thanks to him, she paid attention as the director and producers started giving out tips to the actors and fully explaining the storyline to every little detail. “It’s important all of you get in sync with the ages you’ll be interpreting” was a sentence heavily repeated, since the story would be set in two different times.

After about two hours, when the meeting ended, the two idols stood up and grabbed their stuff from the table. “Your character is really in love with mine” Jinyoung nudged her with his elbow smirking.

“He’ll be just as whipped for her in less than two episodes” Rolling her eyes, Sunny joked back and started walking side by side. 

Looking around to see if anyone was paying attention, she decided to share one of her worries with him. “I know this might seem out of nowhere, but I’m dating Sehun from EXO. And by what they said a few minutes ago there will be a lot of kissing involved. Do you think I should tell him about it?” 

With wide eyes at the sudden confession, Jinyoung assessed the situation before speaking “Does he know you’re acting and I’m the love interest?” After Sunny confirmed he shrug his shoulder, face back to its relaxed state “Then it’s implied. Mentioning it to him would only make it look like it’s a bigger deal than it actually is”

Still a bit unsure about it, Sunny tried to assure herself it would be fine, Sehun had never been the jealous type and he looked very excited when she told him about the project. Sensing her uncertainty, Jinyoung placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Look, seventy percent of the shots will be manipulating camera angles and lighting, we’ll just need to stand very close to each other” She rose an eyebrow at the last part and he sighed “I swear everything will be strictly platonic, just try to look like you’re in love with me when the cameras are rolling” With a breathy laugh, Sunny calmed down a little.

DAY4

Stepping out of the fake bedroom, the girl grabbed a tissue handed by a staff member and started to dry a few tears. Waiting for the director to tell her what to do next, she looked around and found a very excited boy jumping and waving her way. 

“Okay everyone, that’s enough for today” The middle-aged man shouted and Sunny took off towards J-Hope. 

Engulfing her in a hug, he patted the top of her head and smiled brightly “I missed you so much. You’ve been working a lot lately, we barely see each other on the dorms since you always leave way too early and come home very late”

“It’ll only be for a couple of weeks. Here let’s go to catering, I haven’t eaten yet” Sunny grabbed his arm and took him to a bunch of trailers parked. 

After she got her lunch, they sat down in a table and she started eating with him stealing a couple of bites here and there. “Jungkook said he will pay you a visit as well, he’s trying to set a date with Yugyeom so they can come together”

“He’s really tight with his 97 friends huh? I wonder if he would come at all if Jinyoung wasn’t in this” Sunny rolled her eyes remembering the many times she had to repeat what she had said because Jungkook was too absorbed in his group chat to pay attention.

“Let’s just be happy he’s making friends” Hobi smiled and Sunny laughed “I’m being serious, you were very quick to befriend other idols and do your thing, I thought Kookie would never leave our side” 

“But he did talk to other people” Sunny tried to reason with him.

“Yeah, only when V or Jimin was around, the boy took introverted to another level” he looked around and reverted his gaze to her. “And you, have you made more friends here?”

“I talk with a few actors and the staff are nice I guess” Sunny shrug her shoulders “You just said I made friends easily, why so worried out of nowhere?”

“Because I know you” Hobi smiled gently at her “You probably spend most of your day worrying about doing a good job and studying the script. Not trying to break this to you, but I don’t think you’ll ever get the chance to do this again, do you really  want to let the experience pass instead of making connections and having the time of your life?”

Sighing, Sunny placed her arms on the table and looked around as well “It’s just, people here are always working. I know that seems like heaven for me, but it gets tiring only talking about techniques and obsessing over the storyline. Also, I don’t think other people are interested in talking with an idol. I’m like a choir kid who wanted to try out the drama club”

J Hope laughed at her comparison “I’m glad you’re not leaving Bangtan to become an actress then” He smirked and she rolled her eyes with a small smile “How about the other actors? I guess Jinyoung’s on the same boat as you”

“I guess so. We talk in between shots sometimes, he’s probably the closest I have to a friend” as she said that the boy raised his arms in victory.

DAY6 (yes, it was on purpose)

“Okay, cut” The director yelled and Jinyoung retreated his lips from the corner of Sunny’s mouth “Please don’t leave the phonebooth, I’m going to check if we need to do that once again”

With the amount of space restricted, Sunny rested her back on the glass and the Got7 member tried to back away as much as possible, but it wasn’t enough to be a respectable space. 

“I’m sorry if this is awkward,”  Jinyoung said looking everywhere but at her. Not that Sunny knew because she was literally doing the same. “I’d open the door, but I’m sure he’d yell at me for doing so”

The girl didn’t have time to respond back, as someone yelled they were done for the day. Finally breathing properly, she stepped out of the small place and saw Yugyeom and Jungkook on the back watching the staff work. 

Looking at Sunny with wide eyes, her groupmate walked very fast towards her and dragged her somewhere more secluded. “Do you know how intimate that looked?” he said like he was scared making the girl laugh.

“Well, it is a romantic drama. I’m sure it was supposed to look like that” she said shrugging her shoulders and leaving to get out of her costume.

Grabbing her arm again, Jungkook prevented her from moving “Still, it’s awkward. Aren’t you uncomfortable with it? We can talk to your manager and get them to change the script or something”

“Are you crazy?” Sunny put her hands on his shoulders and shook him a little, getting him out of his shock “They signed me to play their character, I’m sure they would straight up fire me if I did anything even remotely close to changing the scenes”

“Well… I-I’m uncomfortable with it” He stuttered a bit but ended up crossing his arms and fixing his posture as if he was some kind of authority, all Sunny did was raise an eyebrow at him “Sehun Hyung won’t like this either. Plus you’re like a child, isn’t this like, illegal?”

“I’m literally a year younger than you” she reminded him,

“Well, it’s legal then” He nodded “But, Sehun? Does he know this?”

“Of course, I’m not going to lie to him about where I spend most of my day”

“I’m not talking about that” it was Jungkook’s turn to raise an eyebrow, making Sunny sigh.

“I haven’t told him about the kisses, if that’s even what they are, but he does know I have a love interest” She linked arms with him and started walking towards a trailer, she desperately wanted to get out of those clothes and go home “I’m scared if I talk too much about it it’s going to seem like I care too much about what’s going on”

“But if you don’t it might seem like you’re trying to hide something” Jungkook pointed out being led by her “If it were me I’d want to know. I would probably become petty though”

“Yeah, you would” Sunny smiled at his personality.

“What do you mean by those not being kisses by the way?”

“Oh. Fake kisses are so boring, like, lips aren’t even fully touching. Plus, the real feeling of-”

“That’s enough” He cut her off flustered “ I already know that I don’t know why I needed for you to say it. Please forget I even asked”

DAY 7

“So, that’s what has been going on” Sunny said to her phone. Pacing from one side to the other on the empty makeup trailer.

“Okay” She heard Sehun’s muffled laugh on the other side “I already know you would be doing stuff like that. It does worry me a little that something made you feel like you had to tell me this now”

“I had talked with Jinyoung about this and he told me it wasn’t a big deal, but Jungkook came yesterday and said it would be better if you were aware”

“Oh, so you asked your fake boyfriend what to do about your real boyfriend?” Sunny could feel him smirking through the phone and unconsciously rolled her eyes.

“This really isn’t going to become a problem right?” She stopped pacing and faced her brunette figure in the mirror.

“Trust me it isn’t. You’re going to give me double the kisses to make up though” Sunny smiled at his silliness “I have to go right now. I love you”

“I love you too” she blew a kiss and he hung up.

Leaving the trailer, she saw Jinyoung also walking towards the set she was going to. “Hey, settled everything with the boyfriend?” 

“Yeah, and he said he already expected it” Sunny started walking with him, the space between them enough to fit another person.

“I told you, you should have trusted Sunbae” Jinyoung smiled at her, using his nickname from the drama, and Sunny rolled her eyes once again.

“Keep talking like that, and I’ll have to start calling you Jaehyun” she spoke with a mischievous grin and it was his turn to roll his eyes.

“Aah Jisoo, your friendship means the world to me”

2 Months later

Sunny was laying on her bed while scrolling through social media and checking out people’s reviews on the latest episode when her notification bar rolled down showing a new message from Sehun 

“Come to my place, we need to talk”

(please don’t kill me, pt 2 will be coming soon)

#bts 8th member #bts fanfic #bts female addition #bts female member #bts female oc #bts oc #bts au #bts addition #bts additional member #kpop addition #kpop oc #kpop au #kpop female oc #k pop oc #k pop au #k pop addition #female!addition #female!oc #female!kpop #female!koc #koc #Sunny

[musedblues]

Always Something There To Remind Me [Part: 3]

summary: Home is where the heart is. You're working on finding yours. After a handful of misfortunes, your old friend Joe helps to unravel life's greatest mystery while adding a bit of extra grief to the mix.

warnings:  A few mentions of panic attacks, and getting sick a but also dare I say a bit of fluff?!

w/c: 6k

a/n: This has been one of my favorite chapters to write so far. Thank you for all the lovely feedback, lads!

taglist: @im-an-adult-ish​ @mrsmazzello​ @lettinggosthehardestpart​ @the-moving-finger-writes​ @imtheinvisiblequeen​

Part 4

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

On the walk across the street with your mother, carrying matching bottles of wine, you worried this Christmas Eve was going to be dramatically different than all others that came before it. That you were too far out of the loop to ever fit back in.

But you were at ease the second you passed through the Mazzellos front door. Joe and his mother were the only people bustling around the kitchen, so early in the evening. You'd expected tonight's reunion with your old friend to be even more sensational than the last, but it wasn't. Joe simply greeted you with a grin, taking the bottle of wine from your clutch and spinning around to find a cork right away. Your mothers began spouting gossip near the already set up table, while Joe poured the two of you a drink.

As you followed your old friend toward the living room, you couldn't help but notice how alarmingly normal this routine seemed. This felt much more like coming home than landing at the airport to your teary-eyed mother had, for some reason.

But lots had changed since the last time you'd spent celebrating with the Mazzellos. And you couldn't wait any longer to hear about the things Joe mentioned being apart of the last you saw him. Not long after you settled on the sofa to the tune of his exciting storytelling, you asked for faces to match the names of his new cast of friends he had yet to stop buzzing over. Joe wasted no time pulling up a group photo of himself mixed in with a pretty bunch of actors.

"Lucy is actually the funniest person I know, besides yours truly of course." Joe boasted about a girl who looked as if she was made of porcelain. You had no reason to doubt she was just as flawless in real life. Before you could ask more of her, Joe was already on a roll. "Ben is the love of my life. I mean, come on, look at the guy." Joe proceeded to ramble for a long time about the blonde, telling you how the man with emerald eyes was a loyal and passionate friend, someone Joe had come to trust and admire. "Rami, well, you know him, don't you?" Joe shrugged, glancing your way as he sipped some wine. Oh yeah, you did. The guy was in another production with Joe, back when he facetimed you weekly. Rami had ended up in the background of enough of those facetimes to give you a few meaningful greetings when you called to check-up. You wondered if the superstar remembered you at all. "And Gwilym is-" "Welsh?" You let out a breath of a laugh. Gwilym. There's a name you'd hadn't even known existed until a few summers ago when some old fella down the road kept getting his mail switched up with yours. Joe matched your unexpected chuckle with one of his own, almost like he wasn't sure if he should have acknowledged your remark. So you just shrugged and offered your friend a small grin "Small world."

Thankfully, Joe's muddled expression softened. As you began to wonder one thousand things, he went on...

"He is the best of us. Heart of gold." Joe's bragged as the pair of you focused on his phone screen. There the five of them were, all dressed up, strutting across a lavish purple carpet. Just when you both polished off your glasses of wine, the doorbell rang. Cousins and aunts and uncles started to show up with dessert trays and gift bags. Most of them remembered your name and hugged you like always. It was almost like no time had ever passed, like this Christmas Eve picked up where the last one you attended left off. The most exciting reunion came just before dinner time as Joe's siblings showed up.

John and Mary arrived together, with their spoused and gaggle of children, all of whom you'd never met. A couple of the more rambunctious kids raced up to their grandmother, while John stopped in his tracks when he noticed you.

Growing up, you went to all of his baseball games. You helped him with his homework and bought him birthday presents. He might as well have been your own little brother. But since you'd graduated, Joe's updates about his kid brother stopped coming when his own did, too.

"Oh my God!" John practically tackled you in a hug that everyone around you chuckled over. "I didn't, why did- when did you come back?" John laughed, clearly surprised by your random appearance at Christmas Eve dinner for the first time in forever.

"Is this really happening?" Mary moved toward you. She was pretty as ever, dark hair and bright eyes. You always looked up to her, and she always looked out for you. She rescued you from bad first dates, taught you how to drive and told you highschool secrets, like your own older sister. Now, she shoved John away and hugged you even tighter. You wondered how you'd gone all this time without seeking Mary's counsel and support.

Both of their spouses watched on in confused glee, happy that everyone else was so happy. John's wife was the first to bite.

"Hi! I'm Eva." The pretty brunette smiled at you but cocked her head, clearly lost to why her husband was so excited to see you. Then she said, "How long have you and Joe been...?" Eva pointed to where your best friend stood in the archway of the kitchen, and your mother let out a chortle in passing.

"Ah yes..." You turned to Joe with a sly smile. Maybe you'd been sipping too much pre-dinner wine.  "I'll never forget the day he untied me from those train tracks!" You reached out to latch onto Joe in a comical way, and even though he winced for show, he held onto you like he might have actually wanted too.

"Who's the actor here, y/n?" Mrs. Mazzello joked, batting your arm with a laugh.

"Joe has just been using me for my many talents all these years. I taught him everything he knows." You shrugged with one arm still looped around your friend's neck.

"Those were the days." Joe reminisced with a snicker, keeping his relaxed hold around you.

John was quick to disperse your make-believe bubble to explain to his wife exactly who you were.

"This is y/n. The girl in all our pictures in the hallway." John gestured toward the corner where dozen of snapshots hung of their family at parties and graduations. A handful of which you and your mother happened to sneak into the background of over the years. "She's practically a Mazzello."

"Oh my God." Eva's face fell, and she turned to you with a serious gaze. "I'm so sorry, I've heard so much about you but never- oh, come here." And she pulled you into a hug all the same. John and Mary gathered their excited offspring and made them each introduce themselves to you, well besides the tiniest babies who couldn't. You barely had time to gush over the families before dinner was served.

Everyone devoured plates full of well-cooked food, laughing over things you somehow still understood. Christmas hadn't felt so warm in years. You and Joe moved through even more wine, sharing glances like a secret code when his weird uncle started rambling about politics. When dinner was over, everyone was still happy to linger around together.

When everyone gathered in the living room, you excused yourself to the bathroom. On your trip back down the hallway, a tiny giggle stopped you from rejoining the party just yet. Mary's littlest babe was clinging to the open doorway of Mr. Mazzello's office, a space with oak bookshelves and a writing desk to match. Joe's father could be found there, working until it was time for dinner.

The baby was babbling, pointing into the dark office. He stumbled into the shadows and turned his head before he shifted and looked at you. The baby screwed his brows together and started to ask a question using the only syllables he knew to use.

And somehow, you realized he was looking for Joe's dad. The little boy spun in the doorway again before he wobbled right toward you. Simultaneously, Mary floated down the hall with a baby bag over her shoulder. She must have been looking for the kid. He was reaching up and pulling on your sweater, now.

"I think he wants to go in there." You spoke softly, watching Mary's baby point back toward the dark office. When you looked back up toward Mary her eyes were glossy. She shared a silent glance with you before she bent down to her boy's level. He kept babbling and waving back toward the office.

"He's not there, sweetheart," Mary whispered, smoothing back her baby's hair and breaking your heart. She lifted the kid to her hip and cocked her head, a signal for you to follow.

The office was warm and smelt like cinnamon, not because of Christmas time, but because it always did. Mary flicked the Tiffany lamp on and the room filled with spots of amber light. There were papers scattered on the desk and a chair filled some costumes in the corner like someone was meant to come in and do work at any moment.

"Dad used to let the kids sit in here while he worked." Mary sniffled, while the baby in her arms reached out to touch the book shelve before him. It was filled with awards and photos and crafts.

"I was always afraid to come in and interrupt business." You breathed a laugh, floating closer to monitor the shelve. Right between a photo of Joe and his father at the grand canyon, and a handpainted candle vase, something caught your eye.

There was a Polaroid. You had a camera for a month before one of your friends stole it. With it, someone had taken a photo of you with Joe's dad at play practice. Joe was away that summer, filming and you needed something to do. Your highschool was putting on a production of Grease, the ancient choir director conveniently passed away a week before your first rehearsal, so Joe's dad stepped in to help, last minute. Somehow you ended up as a Pink Lady, without a name or any lines. Joe's dad let you keep that jacket. You gave the Polaroid to Mr. Mazzello as thanks, during the wrap party. Despite having no lines, you were a shite actor, but Joe's dad took it easy on you. That was just one example of the way he'd always sort of looked out for you, you realized.

Mary noticed the photo your gaze was fixated on and said: "You're family, y/n. And I'm glad you're back home."

You couldn't tell if she knew what you'd been through but above all things, you knew Mary was wise enough to read you like she always had. Her baby had retracted away from curiosity and curled into his mother's arm. She noted that it was probably bedtime for all the kids and started to leave her father's old office. You were left alone to turn the light off. Leaving that room on your own terms was the first goodbye you'd said in months that brought you any kind of peace.

///

Your mother left home in a sequined shaw with a camera around her neck. At midnight, a new year would begin, but someone was getting married before then. She invited you along to help take photos, But just days before, you'd made plans of your own. With Joe. He said there were some people from town throwing a party and he'd been invited long ago. Joe asked you to join him, saying something about how he probably would only go if you came along. Something about that made you agree.

So you slipped into some old dress you'd bought in Wales and made a mental note to go on a shopping spree, soon. Joe showed up at your door, dressed for the occasion too. Tonight felt like more of a step outside of your comfort zone, than a simple New Year's Eve party. But even so, falling back into your old spot at Joe's side was natural, and you didn't have time to dwell on the inner workings of things while he sang along to some old Britney Spears album the entire car ride, begging you to join in. By the time you arrived at the party, you almost forgot that Joe's version of carpool karaoke wasn't the main event of the evening.

He kept one hand steady on your shoulder as you walked from the parking lot and into some modernly styled club. Inside, clear bulbs were strung from one sleek pilar to another. One too many bodies occupied the dance floor while those left behind took up nearly every table and booth insight. Joe directed you toward the bar top where two miraculously free seats called your names.

Just then, someone recognized your friend. A tall man in a dark suit called Joe's name as you eased onto the bar stool. You didn't recognize the guy, and the bartender was asking what you wanted. So you ordered two of the same bourbons and turned back to see Joe rolling his eyes while the stranger was walking away.

"I can never remember his name," Joe admitted, leaning toward you. You chuckled and started to respond when another voice cut through the crowd.

"Joey!" The high pitched squeak hurt your head, and when you turned to see who it belonged to, nothing made sense. Lacy Duval was prancing toward the both of you in a tight sparkly dress. The only thing you knew about Lacy Duval, was that in high school, she was two grades below you, but somehow always ended up mingling with everyone in your class. So it wasn't surprising to see she'd recognized one of you, but it was a bit unsettling to see how excitedly Lacy dashed your way. And it was furthermore of a shock to you to find Joe waving to her with a wide smile, like they'd really known each other.

"I'm so glad you could make it, I've been looking around for you all night!" The girl with silvery blonde hair and a matching bright smile gushed. The bartender slid your drink near your elbow and you grinned his way as thanks.

"Well, it is only 9:30." Joe laughed. Then he reached over and rested a hand on your knee. "You remember y/n right?"

"Of course I do." Lacy turned her smile toward you.

"Hi, Lacy." You smiled back, raising your bourbon for a sip. Another set of faces emerged from the party, and you vaguely recognized them. They knew your name and warmly greeted you. But their interest lied in Joe, of course. They talked him into coming with them to meet someone on the other side of the room.

"Don't worry, I'll save your spot!" Lacy giggled in a way that made you kind of want to leave and go back home. But you just sipped your bourbon and smiled at Joe when he turned to you with a sorry shrug. Lacy slinked past Joe as the strangers pulled him in their tow. Somehow while the only person you knew disappeared into the crowd, you managed to down your bourbon until it was gone. You asked for another.

Then, without prompt or consent, Lacy crossed her silky legs and began to tell you a story you never asked to hear. She explained how a couple of summers ago, Joe was in town filming his very own movie. You knew all about it. You were still in touch with him then. But according to Lacy, she was there. She twirled her hair around a finger while she told you how Joe and his cast would sometimes stop in the all-night diner she worked at back then, and how she would hang around with them when no other customers stopped in. According to Lacy, Joe personally invited her to the wrap party.

"We hung out a lot." Lacy propped her elbow on the bar and her head in her hand. "We didn't see much of each other until his dad got sick, or whatever. We did hang out more when he was home for that."

Your bourbon was gone again. So you asked for a shot of whiskey.

"About time he showed up tonight." Lacy smiled, her teeth sparkling like the glitter her dress was made of. "We've had plans."

"Well, Happy New Year." You smiled. Was she finally done talking?  Someone just as scantily clad and pretty spotted Lacy and hurried up to her for a hug. Your whiskey arrived as the girls scurried into the crowd arm in arm without so much as a goodbye your way. You watched Lacy work the room as she moved through it, keeping that giant smile turned up all the way even when no one was looking. Before you could look away, Joe appeared as if he was making his way back to the bar. Lacy had spotted him too, apparently, and moved like a cheetah to corner him on the dance floor.

So, you were alone now. You could be home alone, but you weren't so, you took your shot of whiskey to try and calm your nerves. This party was way out of your league. You didn't know anyone, not even the people who seemed to vaguely remember you. And the music was pretty obnoxious. But as soon as these thoughts plagued you, a familiar face came into view. Some boy you'd known from high school took Lacy's spot on the barstool at your side. He was your first student, the year you taught your peers to play the piano for some extra cash, freshman year. The guy seemed genuinely glad to see you now, and you had always wondered what happened to him after high school. After catching up for a while, asking a few questions you always wanted to ask him, the guy had one of his own.

"Aren't you married, or something? The last time I saw Joe, he said you were living with some guys in the UK."

Whoa, you were not ready for that one. You sort of hoped everyone had decided you fell off the face of the earth. That thought always eased your mind when it began to wonder what people might ask you, when you moved back home. You hadn't properly prepared an answer for times like these...

"Oh, nope not married." You managed to remain cool under pressure, as the guy nodded in understanding. But of course, he didn't really understand. And he didn't know your throat was going dry at the thought of Kris. You politely excused yourself and headed toward the restrooms.

It wasn't even eleven o'clock, yet but the place was packed with party animals and the only people your recognized were across the floor. Lacy was looping her arm around Joe as she motioned for him to meet someone you couldn't see. The rest of the crowd were blank faces.

Maybe it was the drinks you'd downed so quickly. Or the fact that you still felt like shite at the simple thought of what happened to Kris. You had stopped missing him sometime long before he died; when he skipped town on your last birthday and gave you a present a few months later like an afterthought. That's when you really stopped feeling much for Kris at all. But you never got to end things between the two of you on your own terms. That left a million unimportant arguments burning in the back of your mind. By now, you were just pissed that the situation still had such a massive effect on you. Tonight being no exception at all,

Thank God the restroom was empty. You hurried toward the yellow stalls and prayed no one heard you getting sick. The tile floor was sticky and it hurt your knees. Every moment of this night was more uncomfortable than the last... After some time, you stood to better yourself but felt still felt dizzy as you leaned against the sink counter. The party boomed on and your head pounded. Then the bathroom door creaked open.

"Y/n?" Lacy's shrill pitch echoed through the tiled walls. You felt nauseous again.

"Yeah?" You tried to sound normal, bringing the back of your hand to your lips.

"Did you just...?" She trailed off, and you could only muster a tiny nod before hurrying back to the stall to barf again. Lacy's heels clicked toward the door and it slammed shut. Who would want to watch some girl throw up alone on New Year's Eve? You took your sweet time drinking from the faucet and taking deep breaths in the mirror. You decided that the moment you stepped foot back in the party that you were going to have a good time. Or at least pretend a little harder too.

But after you pushed open the restroom door and started to walk into the crowd, a hand grabbed you and spun you back around. It belonged to Joe, and he was pulling you toward the exit.

"We're going home." Joe decided loudly over the annoyingly loud music.

"Oh no, why?" You pretended to dread. He only pulled you close and guided you through the front doors. A few strangers watched on as you left before midnight. The city streets were empty and quiet, and Joe's car looked warm form the outside.

"Lacy said you got sick?"

"Oh, yeah." You shrugged. Your goal wasn't to ruin the party. "We don't have to leave because of me." You felt sick again.

"First of all yes we do. It wouldn't be fun if you feel bad. Secondly, it was already no fun. They were only playing Katy Perry."  Joe seemed truly disturbed. You had to laugh. The ride back home was quiet.

Joe parked outside your front door and followed behind as you walked up your porch steps. You stalled with your hand on the doorknob and announced that you planned on starting the new year off with a bubble bath. But declaring the peaceful plan didn't make you feel any less horrid. Then Joe softly assured you that he'd be across the street if you need him.

"You aren't gonna go back to the party?" You wondered. Why wouldn't he?

"Why would I?" Joe furrowed his brow, truly confused. You only chuckled and shook your head as you slowly twisted your doorknob and thanked Joe one last time. Then you went inside, even though it looked like Joe had something to say. He could tell you in the morning, you thought.

You felt better in the stillness of your home, surrounded by warm bubbles and candlelight. You changed your sheets and put on an oversized sweatshirt from Australia, one Joe shipped you as a Christmas gift the year he spent filming there. You watched the time on your phone turn to midnight and wondered if Tegan was having a good time. Last year, she helped you throw a party in the pub, and you didn't shut down until five a.m. This year you were snug in bed, high off the scent of your freshly cleaned sheets and relishing the quiet.

You must have succumbed to sleep, but it wasn't long before you shot awake with a tightness in your chest. Sometimes the nightmares faded as quickly as they appeared, leaving you with a racing heart all the while. It was still quiet and you were still alone. Your phone read two in the morning, and there was a text from your mother announcing she booked a room across the city after her wedding shoot. She wished you a happy new year, and that's when everything really started to crumble for you.

Something about being all alone, in a new space and time made your throat close. Your hands buzzed and tears stung your eyes. Every time you tried to close them, the worse your heart sped up. You had no choice but to let yourself cry a little but still couldn't fall asleep when you learned to breathe again. So you scrolled mindlessly through your phone hoping the internet would distract you long enough to fall asleep again.

Your Instagram feed was flooded with photos of friends in new year party hats with drinks in hand. There was a video of someone's baby comically dancing to auld lang syne, and a series of firework boomerangs. Then- a picture that caused your eyes to roll.

You didn't even realize you were following Lacy Duval. But lo and behold, the newest post on your feed was one of her very own. It was a selfie of her and Joe, from tonight. Her arm was tight around his neck, and he looked happy under the red-tinted lights. There were a few hundred likes, and the first comment you saw, read: "You two again! Looking good as ever."

What the hell did that mean? You wondered enough to click on Lacy's profile. Sure enough, between rows of facetuned selfies, there was a slew of photos of Joe on Lacy's feed. One photo of him wearing her bedazzled sunglasses, another of the two of them sharing a booth at the diner Lacy mentioned before.

Your bedroom suddenly felt like a trap, like your mind wasn't the issue. You felt like you did when you'd been grounded as a kid. So you got out of bed and descended the staircase, flipping a lamp on in the living room. Somehow the change of scenery completely changed your mood. You sank into the sofa among decorative pillows and a quilt you'd left behind some days before.

You nestled there, flipping on the tv and decided to play Parks and Recreation in search of a reason to smile. Then your phone buzzed from the coffee table where you tossed it. It was a text, from Joe.

Hey, you still up?

You glanced up to the telly, then back down at your phone, wondering why he was. You had just been on social media. Maybe Joe noticed you were active. Maybe he'd gone back to the party after all.

Yep. You good?

A few minutes passed until he responded again.

Want some company?

A tiny laugh escaped your throat. Why would he want to come over at two in the morning? You couldn't understand how Joe had known to offer his company in this moment when you felt the loneliest you had in a long while. You could help but type back that you were unlocking the door and for him to come in whenever he felt like, if he really did.

You sat back down among the den of comforts that was your old sofa, and watched Parks and Recreation with a wandering mind. You weren't even sure what you'd been thinking of until the front door jostled open, and you snapped back from your zone out.

"Happy New Year!" Joe excitedly boasted. He was dressed in joggers and an old sweatshirt, and he held a paper sack close to his chest as he shut the door behind him.

"What's up your sleeve?" You laughed, stretching your arms as you sat up all the way. You watched Joe cross the room to rest his mysterious bag on the coffee table and sit near you on the edge of the sofa. It wasn't quite like your friend had come over for a visit, but rather like he was finally home after a long day. A warmth bloomed in your chest at the thought of Joe existing back in your orbit, and being happy as always to do nothing together.

"Doctors orders." He spoked as he reached into the paper bag. "We've got some overpriced drug store candy. A bag of ginger cookies. A magazine I found with Bruce Springsteen on the cover, and this." Joe named all the things he revealed from the bag one at a time, ending with a small envelope he handed to you. It was a card with the words "Get Well Soon" scrawled in outlandish cursive. Inside was blank, besides the doodled Joe had drawn of a frowny face wearing a droopy party hat. You laughed out loud, glancing up to your friend who looked quite proud.

"Thank you, Joe. You didn't need to come bearing gifts." You gave him a look as you rested the card on the table in front of you. You hadn't even felt sick since after your bath, anyhow.

"Uh, of course I did. Now shut up and try one of these. This was like, twelve dollars." Joe chuckled, reaching for a golden tin of suckers that came in elaborate flavors like ginseng, lavender, and cinnamon.

"You're out of control." You mocked, shaking your head but peering into the tin all the same. "Simply ridiculous."

"So you're saying you don't want one of these?" Joe jeered, pulling the tin away right as you started to reach in. You scoffed a laugh, moving your hand to shove his shoulder in protest.

"'Course I do! You've truly saved the day." You softened, really meaning it. You were having a really rough go of it until he showed back up. Joe reached in for a sucker and you did too, pulling one that was honey flavored. When you settled back into the sofa, happy with your choice, Joe followed suit. His shoulder pressed against yours and a new episode of Parks and Recreation was starting.

"Sorry the party was so lame." Joe pipped up, pouting as he watched the opening theme play through.

"It's okay." You decided after a beat. You could have assured him it wasn't so bad, but it wasn't great. And you really appreciated Joe's efforts to make your night more enjoyable, whether he realized that's what he was doing or not.

"Do you wanna watch something else?" You offered, suddenly realizing you had nothing left to offer him as thanks for everything. Joe shook his head and stuck in sucker in his mouth like a little kid, and you had to laugh over how much this felt like highschool. Then you settled closer near him, enjoying your candy just as well. Joe's arm fell warmly across your shoulders while a couple of episodes played through with Joe's occasional added commentary and bursts of giggles. You laughed too, but your eyes grew heavier with each passing scene. You hadn't even realized you were falling asleep until you felt Joe take your sucker from you loose grasp. Your head had fallen to his shoulder, and your eyes couldn't stay open one second longer. Parks and Rec’s familiar theme song echoed through the room as you dozed off in a flash, the easiest sleep you'd had in weeks.

///

Your home was quiet again when morning came. You were laying on the sofa with your favorite quilt gently draped over you. Joe was gone. When you stretched into the morning, you noticed a note on the coffee table, where Joe's slew of presents were left from the night before.

"Happy first day of the rest of forever. Thank's for letting me crash for a while. Maybe next week we can have a real party. This has all been an elaborate excuse to use one those fancy quill pens your mom keeps around. x o x o."

You snorted at Joe's thoughtfulness, always going out of his way to let you know how he felt. What had you done to deserve his remarkable friendship after all this time? You dwelled on the thought as you tidied up the living room and went about your day.

///

Your mother had started traveling for work. She was currently somewhere in Denver, taking photos of some happy couple. Leaving you alone to jump over the last of many legal hurdles you faced after coming back home. All you had to do was get from one place to another, delivering some business to the social security office, to confirm you were living back in the states.

The winter's thickets blanket of snow had been reduced to sheets of melting mush, but last night's bitter winds froze the mess to the ground. You waited around the house long enough for salt trucks and rush hour to wear down the roads before you hopped in the jeep your mother left behind. No big deal, you'd driven dozens of times before... just not for a while. You decided your reward for this nerve-wracking mission would be getting dinner from the best pizza place uptown.

You drove down the block with white knuckles, and onto the highway without even thinking. When you realized how far you'd safely made it, you relaxed enough to sing along to Billy Jole as you drove. This was way easier than you'd hoped.

After successfully delivering your paperwork,  you parked in the pizza place lot and ate a piping hot slice behind the wheel while scrolling through social media. Your phone was near dying when you decided to head back home.

Billy Jole was still a great company as you felt your self grow more comfortable behind the wheel. You were in complete control and everything was fine.

Until a loud unsettling POP came from somewhere outside your vehicle. Your car had obviously just blown a tire, slumping to the left in the middle of the highway. As you held your breath and tried to slow down, your remaining tires lost traction on a rouge patch of ice.

"Shitshitshitshit!"

Your car gracefully slid off the road toward a speed limit sign, scraped against the pole and spun around to a halt.

"Damn it!" You cried, tearing your white knuckles from the wheel and covering your face in your hands. Your heart was pounding and your throat closed shut, but a pathetic cry still managed to escape.

A couple of cars breezed by, leaving the highway otherwise empty while you sat trying to pull yourself together.

You weren't hurt. The radio was still blaring Scenes From An Italian Restaurant. It was a little cold, but you were okay. That's what you kept repeating over and over until your hands stopped shaking and you could breathe a little better than before.

"Oh shit." You whimpered, hopping out of the car to monitor the front left tire. The rubber smoking, peeling away from the rim. You hurried back in your car and found your phone was only at nine percent. Who were you even going to call forty minutes away from home? Oh, that's right, no one lived there anymore. Joe was in the city again. Mary was a lawyer and John-

You pulled your phone to your ear as it rang.

"Hello?"

"John? Hey, you live uptown don't you?" He said so at Christmas.

"I do! Stopping by to reminisce?" He laughed.

"I have a really huge favor to ask."

"Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, well, I'm having some car troubles." You explained where you had been left stranded on the highway and how it all happened. How your phone was dying and you needed to call a towing service.

John promised he was right on his way, and you were able to call a service to come and get your car while you waited for a ride of your own.

His blue Buick slowed and eased off the side of the road only fifteen minutes later. John stepped into the frost-covered grass and leaned toward your open driver's window as you collected your things.

"Did you get through to a towing service?" He asked right away.

"They should be here in no time." You assured, and right as you had, a truck came creeping toward you from the other side of the road. By the time everything was sorted out and you eased into John's passenger seat, it was nearly nightfall. He cranked up the heating vents as you glanced around, noticing a car seat in the back, piled with a few bright children's books.

"Man I can't believe baby John has his own baby now." You beamed, turning to face Joe's little brother. He chuckled, stealing a glance your way while pulling back onto the road.

"Almost four, I wish he was still a baby."

"Yeah," You halfheartedly agreed. You wished you could have been around to know the families as they grew. You'd missed out on so much, and for what?

"So what's it like being back? Christmas felt like it always used too." John smiled, easy-going as always. Funny how he saved the day and went on chatting as if it wasn't a big deal, you thought. Weren't you the one supposed to be rescuing him from silly little mishaps like these? Maybe this was an all-new alternate reality.

"I was glad to be there. It had been far too long." You breathed, glancing out the window to the cold grey highway.

"Eva still feels bad for not recognizing you right away." John laughed. You couldn't help but chuckle, too.

"Oh, how could she?" You wondered. You hadn't been around. But you didn't want to dwell on that anymore. "It's not the first time someone thought I was Joe's hot date." You chuckled light-heartedly.

"I'm sure it won't be the last." John rose a brow, like he might have had more to say. But after a beat, he went on rambling about how glad he was that you'd been at the first Christmas his dad was absent from. How things felt less grim than he expected. And how he was glad to know space nor time could keep you from crashing the party.

When John dropped you off back home, you couldn't decide whether to laugh or cry. You concluded that the indecision was better than falling into your usual downward spiral, and hoped things would only get better from here...

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

#joe mazello x reader #joe mazzello imagine #joe mazzello fanfic #joe mazzello

[nonsensicalobsessions]

A Symphony without Strings, Coda

Author’s Note:

In music, a coda is a passage that brings a piece (or a movement) to an end.

Charles Burkhart suggests that the reason codas are common, even necessary, is that, in the climax of the main body of a piece, a "particularly effortful passage", often an expanded phrase, is often created by "working an idea through to its structural conclusions" and that, after all this momentum is created, a coda is required to "look back" on the main body, allow listeners to "take it all in", and "create a sense of balance."

(Charles Burkhart is an American musicologist, theorist, composer, and pianist. He holds the title of Professor Emeritus in the Aaron Copland School of Music, Queens College, and the Graduate Center, City University of New York.)

The above has been lifted shamelessly, word for word, from Wikipedia. It explains succinctly and gives authenticity to my decision to not give this last* view into Merry and Tom’s life as an epilogue.

I thank every one of you for reading, commenting, reblogging, and privately reaching out to me, letting me know how this idea of mine connected with you. Saying “thank you” is so inadequate, but it is all that I have...

Thank you-- NonsensicalObsessions.

You know the musical drill by now.

Trigger warning: Leukemia

Selection the First: https://youtu.be/6n5YH1Y0rHE OR https://open.spotify.com/track/4iFjfJGjqh6ixgy6vFCjAk?si=3p7hx-6jTeq7vKiA4PHZaQ

Merry celebrated the first official anniversary of her remission by finally giving in to Tom’s quiet but persistent pleas to marry him:

“Tom, you know I love you, and that’s never going to change. I’ve added your name to Liam’s birth certificate, you are legally his father. He is now William Thomas Skye Hiddleston. Why does this mean so much to you?”

“Why do you keep refusing me?” Tom countered, as they walked hand in hand, following Liam who still wanted to feed the ducks, although he had grown so much he was no longer as concerned if they were greedy.

“Because I don’t understand! You have me. You have Liam. What difference does it make?”

“Because I want to make you mine, in every possible way I can. Because I want to tie you to me with another string, my darling. Yes, Liam now carries my name...and I want the world to know Meredith Yvette Skye, renowned musician, conductor, aspiring composer, and leukemia—”

“Stop,” Merry interrupted him sharply, and placed her hand over his mouth. “I’ve told you, Thomas! You simply cannot say things like that! I know what you were going to say, and you just...can’t.”

“Is that what this is all about? You’re afraid to marry me because you’re afraid of a relapse? Merry.” His face was reproachful. 

“I don’t want to make you a widower, Tom.”

“Merry. Whatever the future holds, we can’t change a thing...but we can be happy now. In this moment. Darling, please...will you agree to be my bride? Say you’ll be my wife.”

When she didn’t immediately refuse, as she had done countless times before, Tom stopped in front of her, and saw her torn expression. Slowly, he got down on one knee, and pulled out of his pocket the box he kept on his person at all times, in readiness for the moment when he finally wore her down.

“My sweetest Mozart...will you marry me? Please say you’ll honor me, and be my wife.”

The sun caught her hair, short, but still a riot of curls, a much darker red than before, but still created a halo around her head. “Yes, Tom,” she answered with a smile at last. “Yes, I will marry you.”

“Papa? What are you doing?”

Liam watched his father slide a ring onto his mother’s finger, oblivious to the crowd of onlookers that had gathered and were taking photos, cheering and shouting out congratulations.

“Something I should have done a long time ago, son. Are you ready to go home?”

“Uh huh. I ran out of bread. Greedy ducks.” 

The three of them walked home, Papa Bear, Liam, and Mama, animatedly discussing what would be for supper.

“We need to text Luke,” Merry sighed.

“Why bother? I’m sure he already knows,” Tom replied cheerfully.

Merry sighed, and reached for her phone, but before she could even reach it, Tom’s began to buzz like a hornet.

“See?”

Merry celebrated the second official anniversary of her remission by holding a small benefit concert in New York for Sloan Kettering, to benefit leukemia research. She hand selected the musicians, and was surprised by the interest generated. She had to find a larger venue twice.

Merry celebrated the third anniversary of her remission by being the soloist for Aiden’s wedding to Catherine Walsh. Aiden never expected to fall in love. In fact, he never had moved out of the small, unusual family home, even as Tom and Merry’s relationship became more solid, her health continued to improve, and she and Tom even wed in an very small, private ceremony. He was simply too bonded to Liam, and Liam to Aiden. Both Merry and Tom would never have countenanced trying to weaken or break their tender connection, and would have fought anyone who would have attempted to do so. 

As Liam was now in school, Aiden was free to do as he liked during the school hours, and decided he wanted to pursue teaching at the same school Liam was attending, as there was an opening. Once there, he fell head over heels—literally—when he was knocked over by a choir director who was overloaded with stacks of music. 

Liam was too old to be a ring bearer, but just perfect for standing alongside his beloved mentor and handing him the rings at the appointed time. The best man, Tom Hiddleston, thought this was completely appropriate.

Merry celebrated the fourth anniversary of her remission by forcing her beloved husband into taking a much needed vacation. He had been working a crushing schedule for the past year, and she had had enough of being apart from him. While she was very understanding and patient, and wanted to see him take the roles he desired, the projects that meant the most to him, and was fiercely proud of the honors and awards he achieved, she was also very frustrated with seeing how depressed Liam was with his Papa’s continual absences, Tom’s persistent weary appearance on their frequent video calls, and her trying to juggle Tom’s schedule with Liam’s schooling and her occasional guest appearances with different musical groups and working on her own compositions. Tom was aghast when he realized how badly his son was missing him, how thin Merry had become trying to keep everyone happy as well as worrying about everyone but herself, and even how he wasn’t taking the best care of himself in the absence of his doting wife. When he saw how wan Merry was, he actually became frightened and insisted on her scheduling an appointment with Kelly as soon as they left their island retreat. Kelly saw through Merry’s new tan immediately, and ran every test twice.

To Tom’s immeasurable relief, Merry still showed no sign of the leukemia having returned...but he felt Kelly’s eyes on him, mutely judging him for allowing her to become so worn down. A few casual statements about “the price of success” and “the value of family” and he could scarcely lift his head from the shame.

When the appointment was over, Merry teased Tom, “I told you I was fine, worry wart. I was just tired, that’s all.”

“That flu you battled didn’t help. You dropped weight you could ill afford to lose,” Kelly mildly reminded her, and Tom winced imperceptibly, even as he turned to face his wife. 

He smiled, and kissed Merry. “You are worth everything to me,” he answered honestly. “It was worth the peace of mind, to have Kelly take a look at you.”

“Merry, why don’t you stop by the music room, and I’ll let everyone who is ambulatory know you’re around for a quick few pieces, if you’re amenable,” smiled Kelly.

“Of course,” agreed Merry. “I’ll go freshen up and meet you there.”

Once she was gone, Kelly dropped the affable expression and simply...looked at Tom.

“Music room? That’s new,” Tom said, hoping to stall the inevitable.

“No, it’s been around for about a year now. You didn’t know about it?”

“Should I have?” 

“Considering it was your wife’s idea, she spearheaded the fundraising, organized the purchasing, and wrote the philosophy and goals behind it, I would think so, yes.” Kelly stood and looked at him, her face blank. “I’m disappointed in you, Tom.”

He reared back as if he had been slapped.

“Do you have any idea how lucky you are? How phenomenally blessed? That woman is a walking scientific breakthrough. They are citing her case and will be for years to come. Do you know what the average survival rate was for adults with ALL? Only 25% to 35% of adults were able to live five years or longer. And when she came to you, Tom, she was already at year four...on experimental trial, conceivably her last chance. Do you even remember what poor condition she was in, or have you blocked that out already?”

“I remember,” he answered tonelessly.

“I would almost rather you had forgotten. It would make the condition that she is in now easier to understand.” Kelly sighed. “I know, I know you have amazing opportunities. I know too that she makes it easy for you to forget. But I didn’t think you’d be this complacent. I truly didn’t.”

Tom remained silent, just ran his fingers along the underside of her desk.

“Just stop and think about what success really means, Tom. And what you really need to be happy.” Kelly stopped. “But I’m up on my soapbox again. Come see what your wife has been up to while you’ve been away. I am not denigrating your work. I know you make millions of people happy. That is important. Please don’t think I am unaware of it.”

She guided Tom to an area he had never had a reason to visit, and as he approached, he heard laughter, music, and squealing of children.

“You know Merry, she’s never happy if she can’t be making music,” Tom remembered Aiden saying once.

He walked into an area that looked like a scene from...well, a movie.

The walls were a combination of windows to let in natural light, and whimsical murals of sheet music, with happy, smiling quarter notes, half notes, rests and treble clefs and sharps... there was a piano, and stringed instruments hanging carefully from the walls, with sign up sheets for lessons...headphones with beanbag chairs and recliners, for anyone to just lie back and enjoy listening...Merry was seated in the center, with a cello, and a group of children running the gamut of ages, with a handful of adults, some clearly patients, some visiting family members.

Merry was being hit with a deluge of questions, but as Tom looked about, he saw a plaque on the wall that simply read, “The Music Room” and underneath in a smaller font “Where words fail, music speaks: Hans Christian Andersen”. 

Tom deliberately remained in the back of the room. He did not want to be noticed. This was a place where people, young and old alike, came to find some healing in music. His beloved wife had arranged for this temple to be erected, and now, she graced it like the goddess she was. Far be it from him to distract the devout.

He smiled as he heard the clamor for her to play, and she laughed and agreed to play for awhile. He leaned against the glass, angling himself so he could watch her in the reflection as she tuned the cello quickly and began.

Not surprisingly, her first piece was a rollicking jig that set the youngest set dancing if they were strong enough, and those that felt they were either too tired or else too grown up just laughed and clapped along. Tom smiled as he looked at his shoes, wishing for his spoons. Such was the joy she inspired.

Her second was a waltz. He actually turned and caught her eye, surprised. His heart and conscience tugged at him, as he wondered when was the last time he had danced with his wife. He’d forgotten. Listening to her lilting notes, he was drawn with the strong urge to whisk her up and begin dancing with her himself, remembering how he would do so as Liam would laugh and laugh as he did so.

The third was soft, and gentle, but not melancholy. He saw where she deliberately chose selections that would not leave anyone’s spirits feeling lonely, or anxious. A wave of love crashed over his heart. She knew grief, abandonment, and weariness, and was making sure that in this place, she would not add these burdens to her small audience.

“All right, last one,” she said. There was a small outcry of “awww”s and she rested on her cello for a moment as she confided, “I don’t know if you are aware of it, but I was treated here too...just down the hall there. Yes, it’s true,” she added when there were a few that expressed their surprise. Merry was not in the best of shape, maybe, as Tom looked at her with his eyes newly opened with guilt and a strong resolve to make sure she became stronger and sleeker under his loving, watchful gaze...but she was here.

“Like all of you, there were days I felt sick to my soul...so tired, and just over it all...but then I would hear this song, and I would find enough encouragement to pick my head up, and keep on keeping on. I’m going to share it with you, and I hope it helps you when you’re feeling like you need a pick me up. If you know the lyrics, sing along, all right?”

Tom was intrigued. Merry had never mentioned any of this to him...

Before she started, she dragged over a wooden box that held a collection of musical toys, and winking at one of the kids, quickly rigged it into an impromptu...foot powered drum?

Merry, what are you up to?

Once again, he caught her eye, his eyebrow lifted in blatant curiosity. She simply gave him a small grin, and began.

He fell in love, all over again:

Selection the Second: Reader’s Choice: Instrumental--https://youtu.be/rYQLXeDZ3lw OR https://open.spotify.com/track/3eAYt2sZZSyqBM2LllwPJg?si=Px-xv-uPTHyAq7LbiucFwQ  

OR Vocals https://youtu.be/xo1VInw-SKc OR https://open.spotify.com/track/37f4ITSlgPX81ad2EvmVQr?si=shhYva9cQUmuIjMWJn_igQ

Like a small boat

On the ocean

Sending big waves

Into motion

Like how a single word

Can make a heart open

I might only have one match

But I can make an explosion

And all those things I didn't say

Wrecking balls inside my brain

I will scream them loud tonight

Can you hear my voice this time?

This is my fight song

Take back my life song

Prove I'm alright song

My power's turned on

Starting right now I'll be strong

I'll play my fight song

And I don't really care if nobody else believes

'Cause I've still got a lot of fight left in me

Her voice started off alone, quiet but sure, but then another voice picked up, and then another. Her foot was keeping time fiercely with her makeshift drum. Children were jumping and dancing. Adults were standing and swaying, some with their hands over their heads. Some had tears on their faces, others were laughing, still others were singing with triumph written all over their faces. By the end, Tom saw everyone was singing, including Kelly, who was taking turns dancing with different patients and family members. The music was more than just notes, it was a manifestation of the spirit of everyone present, refusing to bow to the odds, defying weakness and pain and suffering. 

She turned to Tom once when she sang, 

And all those things I didn't say

Wrecking balls inside my brain

I will scream them loud tonight

Can you hear my voice this time?

He saw the memory of the pain in her eyes, all the nights she couldn’t sleep, and her mind must have gone round for round, all the words she wanted to say, but never had, second guessing herself, playing the “what-if” game...he mouthed, “I love you,” to her, and saw a smile fill those same eyes, and promised himself he was going to make sure tonight her eyes held nothing but joy.

When the singing stopped, Merry looked at everyone present and repeated, “Cause I know I’ve still got a lot of fight left in me...and so do you.”

Oh yes, my Mozart. You do. And I’m not going to be complacent anymore.

Selection the Third: https://youtu.be/8L-Bk28Ra6Q OR https://open.spotify.com/track/1iyMfyCRzkcW3x7CGEckgY?si=rIf8VY5BQiislFRKsJ3Z8g

Merry celebrated the fifth anniversary of her remission by participating in the third annual benefit concert for Sloan Kettering. What she had begun to celebrate her second anniversary had grown so huge she was unable to continue it on her own, and gratefully turned the entire thing over to the New York Symphony’s auspices. 

It was an extremely emotional experience for her. Not only was it what many saw as a coveted milestone, (although there was a lot of debate as to whether five years was the milestone or ten, to be considered as “cured”), but Merry, absolutely quaking and gripped with stage fright for the first time in her entire life, stepped in front of the New York Symphony Orchestra to conduct her own composition, A Symphony with Strings, in C.

She was repeatedly asked about the quirky title, “Don’t all symphonies have strings?” which led her patiently answering, repeatedly, how “strings” referred to a metaphor about connections, and how certain themes began in the opening, then changed, grew and matured throughout the composition, just as in a relationship.

The fact her main “string” had a name—William Thomas—she kept to herself.

Tom was the only person that asked what she considered the real question:

“Why C major?”

It was after the performance, and the after parties. Merry was lying down on a massive hotel bed, hair (glorious once more) spread across a sinfully decadent pillowcase, a cool cloth across her eyes. Tom had all the lights off, and the drapes open, so the lights of the city skyline were visible. Aiden had Liam with him and Catherine two floors down, so they could enjoy being blissfully, unapologetically nude after enjoying their own after-after party.

“Because I wrote it.”

Merry’s voice was lazy and content.

“That is...as clear as mud.”

“Well, darling husband, I guess if you had written it, it would have been in the key of E...? Or maybe G...” she yawned. Her head was aching as she was coming off all of the champagne she had consumed. “Drink more water,” Tom ordered her as he refreshed the cloth, “and try explaining that one again, please?”

Merry rolled over to her side, arm extended, as she gratefully accepted the facecloth.

“C for Chai, Tom...rather than Earl Grey.”

Merry celebrated the sixth and seventh anniversary of her remission quietly. She and Tom had settled down in a lovely neighborhood in London. Tom had decided he was going to do more theater, and if and when a project came along he simply could not turn down, he did his level best to either take his family along, or else manage his time away so there were plenty of opportunity for visits. Gone were the months and months of time spent apart. No one was happy, and Tom recognized no role, no award, was worth losing so much time with his family. He would never forgive himself if a movie, or a play, caused his family so much grief. Nothing was worth it.

Liam, like his mother, was an extremely talented musician. Merry never pushed Liam beyond his capabilities, nor beyond his passion. She also did not try to teach her son, rather acted as his confidante, advisor, and above all, his doting and loving mother...who still would take no excuses for rudeness or poor behavior.

Aiden and Catherine remained in the States, and it was a painful wrench when the odd little family separated themselves by an ocean. However, between daily video calls, incessant texting, and frequent visits, the pain was eased. Aiden knew he and his family was always welcome at the Hiddleston home, which was really by extension his home. He remained close to Liam, and his role segued into that of a loving older brother, rather than father figure. Liam kept in daily contact, as did Merry. Tom also blew up his phone on a daily basis. Aiden never felt as though he had been cut off or evicted...and when his own family began expanding, Liam was thrilled to finally have little “cousins” to love and boss as often as he could.

Merry never again went back to conducting. She knew in order for her to regain her edge, she would have to put in massive amounts of time and practice. Even six and seven years after her battle with leukemia, she still revisited Sloan Kettering on a regular basis. Every time she bruised, Tom’s face paled, and any illness, weight loss or fatigue meant an immediate trip to the doctor. Merry’s love for music was still keen, and she played the cello, the piano, and the violin more often than she did anything else. After her symphonic debut, she was approached to compose for a variety of reasons, but she refused most of the commissions, choosing to write only when she felt moved to do so. She was just as focused on her music, and as unfocused on anything else that wasn’t her family. She still needed to set multiple alarms at times, and while she didn’t need as many sticky notes around the house as she did as when Tom first met her, both Liam and Tom knew frequent reminders were often a good idea.

Merry celebrated her eighth anniversary by making the conscious decision not to celebrate her remission anniversaries anymore. Rather, she would celebrate every single day as exactly for what they were: gifts she would enjoy and cherish, for the rest of her life, however long it may be. Counting days was restrictive. Who did that?

Encore:

Tom had just won his first Academy Award for Best Actor.

He was frozen in his seat. Cameras around the world saw his stunned expression, how his PR agent and longtime friend, Luke Windsor, physically grabbed and pushed him towards the stage.

He accepted the coveted trophy and hugs from the two presenters, and stood by the microphone.

He licked his lips, the ran his hand through his hair repeatedly.

“Um, wow,” he managed, to applause and laughter.

Finally, he opened his glasses as he took a folded piece of paper form his sharply tailored tuxedo jacket and began:

“In light of my history of speaking of the cuff for long periods of time, you will be happy to know that my long suffering agent, Luke Windsor, stood over me and made me write this out in advance, even as I whined it was unnecessary, because there was no hope of my winning. He timed me and everything...and my son, Liam Hiddleston, is currently tracking me with a stopwatch. Keep me honest, Liam.”

Cameras panned to a handsome young man, who smiled, rolled his eyes as only a preteen can, and made a, “get on with it,” hand motion as he kept his eyes trained on his watch. More laughter erupted throughout the famed theater.

Tom was perfect. He thanked everyone, in his precise and eloquent fashion: the cast, the crew, the writers...he then thanked his mother, and his sisters.

“Doing all right, Liam?” Liam gave him a “thumbs up.”

At this point, Tom tore his notes up, and Luke audibly gasped. “No, Tom. No. Nononono...”

“Liam...I’ve done a lot of things before I saw you for the first time...and while I am proud of them, they don’t hold a candle in my heart compared to that one moment. The best thing I can hope to do with my life is make you proud of your old man, because the best and most important role I’ve ever gotten is being your Papa.” Tom’s voice was becoming markedly thicker, but he was still able to continue speaking. “I am going to stop embarrassing you now...No I’m not. I love you, son.”

Cameras flashed back to Liam, who was blushing, and grinning, even as he kept making his, “keep going,” hand signals, faster now.

“And now...to my beloved Merry. My wife.” Tom took a deep breath. “Darling...words cannot begin to say how much I love you, so I am not even going to try...” Tom’s voice failed him for a moment. “You are always in my heart...I knew this project was going to be challenging, filming half a world away, but I had no idea, I couldn’t know, Mozart, I didn’t...” Tom’s voice failed him again. The silence in the theatre was so complete, the microphone picked up his intake of breath as he tried again. “You made me into a better man, just by being in my life. You showed me what success truly is. You set the standard for grace, courage, and strength...I could go on and on, but our son is letting me know I’ve run out of time, and that’s the crux of it, isn’t it? So, all I can do for now, is this.” He pressed his lips together into a thin line as he looked upwards from the podium, then blew a kiss out into the sea of lights and faces, because the one face he wanted to see was not there. His voice cracked as he concluded, “You have my heart tonight, tomorrow, and for all time. My God, how I love you, Merry. Thank you.”

The theme music for his film that accompanied his exit off the stage seemed less brassy than usual. After the world, let alone the entire auditorium, witnessed Tom Hiddleston break down so profoundly as he professed his love for his wife, it would have seemed somewhat in questionable taste, even for Hollywood.

Luke was pulling his hair as he was waiting for Tom behind the curtain. “Why, Tom? Why did you do it? You had a perfectly good speech...why did you tear it up?”

Tom was wiping his face with a damp cloth someone had handed him. “Because it didn’t begin to say what was in my heart, Luke! It felt wrong! It was wrong!” As he spoke, his eyes kept darting around wildly. “What’s wrong with speaking what was on my heart?”

“Because, my dearest, you kinda made me sound like I was dead,” Merry answered apologetically. She wrapped her arms around her husband, resting her head against his chest as he firmly gathered her into his embrace. “Between Luke grabbing you and pushing you onstage before I could even give you a kiss, and then another person taking my hand and rushing me backstage...I feel as though I missed the overture and the finale!”

“Darling, I had no idea this film was going to stress our family as badly as it did. You never even told me how ill you were with the flu...Kelly just looked at me, and I realized how far I strayed from my promises, to you and Liam both...Christ, Merry, if I’d lost you? No award would ever make up for that. It would all be ashes in my mouth...”

“But you didn’t lose me. You finished an important work, Tom, with an amazing cast, that is all waiting to celebrate with you...now go on, you silly puppy. You worked so hard. Go play. Meet with everyone who is waiting on you.” Merry stood on her tiptoes and kissed her husband on the lips, her eyes shining with love as she patted his chest.

She was unaware their photo was being taken as she did so, his arm around her waist, her hand over his heart, and the captions all were a variation on the theme:

“A tender moment shared by Academy Award Winner Tom Hiddleston and his wife, classically-trained musician Meredith Skye-Hiddleston. Hiddleston sang praises to his wife, affectionately nicknamed ‘Mozart’ in tribute to her many musical talents, in his acceptance speech. Later in the evening, Skye-Hiddleston wryly commented, “There is a reason Tom needs to stick to the notes as they are written. He’s not ready for cadenzas just yet.”

So Merry, Liam, and Papa Bear?

They lived happily ever after.

TAGGING: Lifetime Memberships @hopelessromanticspoonie​ @yespolkadotkitty​ @just-the-hiddles​ @vodka-and-some-sass​ @winterisakiller​ @theheartofpenelope​

Symphony Season Ticket Holders: @jessiejunebug​ @alexakeyloveloki​ @scorpionchild81​ @tinchentitri​ @theoneanna​ @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi​ @blacksuitofdoom​ @mishaandthebrits​ @wegingerangelica​n @rjohnson1280​ @ms-cellanies​ @noplacelikehome77​ @villainousshakespeare​

* simply because Aiden has quite politely asked his side of Chapter 7 be told. We shall see.

Dedicated in loving memory of Christine. Your fight song will never be            silenced in my heart...but my God, I miss you so much.

#tom hiddleston #a symphony without strings #tom hiddleston rpf #tom hiddleston x ofc #tom hiddleston angst #tom hiddleston x oc #look Christine I did a thing #Nonsensical Writes

[becasbelt]

Chapters: 7/12 Fandom: Pitch Perfect (Movies) Rating: T Relationships: Chloe Beale/Beca Mitchell

* * *

CHAPTER 7

The sound of clustered piano notes rings through the empty rehearsal hall as Beca is pushed up against the piano. She moans at the feeling and fumbles behind her to find the fallboard, bringing it down to cover the keys. Chloe’s hands bracket her hips where they rest on the lid, and Beca brings her own hands up to tangle in Chloe’s hair.

They really hadn’t meant to start this in the rehearsal hall. It’s just, Chloe had borrowed a t-shirt with the sleeves cut off from Beca, and she looked really good in it. And Beca maybe hadn’t been able to tear her eyes away from the way Chloe’s ass looked in the leggings she was wearing, which Chloe had definitely noticed and used to her advantage. And when all the other girls cleared out pretty quickly after Aubrey called it a day, Beca just couldn’t help herself from stealing a kiss before heading back to her room….

Except one kiss had led to many kisses, and now Beca was seriously questioning why she ever thought leaving Chloe to go home was ever a good idea.

Beca bites down lightly on Chloe’s bottom lip, to which she is rewarded with a small whimper. Chloe separates from Beca with a gasp to catch her breath, and Beca takes advantage of the moment of weakness to flip their positioning, pushing Chloe’s hips into the piano with her own. She smirks at the surprise on the other girl’s face and starts on the task of kissing Chloe’s neck.

Chloe’s still breathing heavily as she brings her hands up to hold the back of Beca’s head to keep her close. Beca doesn’t mind one bit and nips at Chloe’s thudding pulse point. Chloe inhales sharply and tilts her head farther to the side.

Beca can’t help but smile against smooth skin for a moment because she can’t believe that this is actually her reality right now. For the last two weeks, they’ve been doing this- this being making out whenever they got the chance. They hadn’t put a label on what they were yet, which Beca was fine with; she knew that she liked Chloe, and that Chloe liked her, and that’s she really needed at this point in time.

Plus, if they put a label on it they would probably have to start telling people that they were together, and Beca didn’t want to pop the bubble they were in just yet.

“Bec,” Chloe breathes out, and Beca feels the hands in her hair pull slightly to direct her back into another kiss. Beca grins into the kiss, and soon the two of them are essentially just pressing their smiles against each other. Chloe pulls back with a giggle. “What prompted that?”

Beca raises an eyebrow at Chloe’s coy tone of voice. “Don’t pretend like you don’t know, Beale,” she tells her, reaching down to rest a hand over the swell of Chloe’s butt. Chloe gasps in fake surprise.

“I would never use my feminine figure for my own personal benefit,” Chloe claims teasingly. Beca just hums in reply and leans in to steal a few more kisses before pulling back altogether, sitting down on the piano bench.

Chloe pushes away from the piano to join her on the bench and Beca uncovers the keys once more. She puts her foot on the pedal and tinkers around on the instrument, not really playing anything in particular; just letting her fingers take her wherever they want to go.

“How can you just play without having any sort of music like that?” Chloe asks beside her after a moment, sounding amazed. Beca glances at her out of the corner of her eye.

“I dunno,” she shrugs, shifting her left hand down an octave. “It’s something that I’ve always just been able to do, I guess.” Beca arpeggiates up the piano, crossing her left hand over her right a couple times to play in the upper register of the piano. She smirks at Chloe. “Years of practice helps, too.”

Chloe shakes her head a little with a chuckle. “Show off,” she admonishes good-naturedly while she continues to watch Beca play.

They remain silent for a couple minutes while Beca makes up with a soft melody. Chloe is the first one to speak again. “I wish you could make us a new set list,” she whispers, almost as if she doesn’t want Beca to hear.

Beca hears her loud and clear, though, and immediately stops playing. She turns to look straight on at Chloe, who’s biting her lip with uncertainty. “Do you really mean that?”

Chloe hesitates for a moment before nodding. “What we’re doing now isn’t working, and I feel like you could come up with something way better.”

“Well, I mean, I definitely can,” Beca snorts. “It’s not hard to come up with something better than ‘The Sign’.” Chloe squints at her slightly, and Beca flushes and hurries to amend herself. “Which, you sound great in, by the way, but you have to admit it’s a little dated.”

Chloe’s fake glare dissipates and she lets out a chuckle. “No, you’re definitely not wrong,” she sighs, looking down and reaching out to poke at the piano keys in front of her. “I just wish there was something we could do to make us better.”

“There is, you know,” Beca says, and Chloe turns to look at her again with curiosity in her eyes. “You’re a captain, too, Chlo. You could get Aubrey to change the set.”

Chloe shakes her head. “I couldn’t do that to her,” she says quickly. “That would-”

“Stress her out, I know,” Beca finishes for her, rolling her eyes. “I still think it’s worth a shot, but you can do what you think is best, I guess. If you ever do decide that you want to challenge Aubrey, just know that I’ll be in your corner.”

Chloe seems to soften at this. “Thank you, that means a lot, actually,” she says gently. “And hey,” she nudges Beca’s shoulder, “I’ll always have your back, too.”

Beca smiles at her in gratitude for a moment before turning forward to start pecking at the piano again. She glances over at Chloe when she feels her eyes still on her. “What?”

“Since when do you care about the Bellas so much?” Chloe asks, a teasing lilt to her voice.

Beca scoffs and looks back at the piano. “I don’t.”

Chloe’s hands reach out to take Beca’s hands, stilling them. “Oh, but you totally do!” Chloe says excitedly, a wide grin stretching across her lips.

“I don’t care about anything,” Beca grumbles, pouting.

Chloe giggles and places a quick peck on Beca’s cheek. “Sure you don’t, grumpy.”

Beca doesn’t want to tell her that she actually doesn’t care about the Bellas all that much. Sure, they’ve somehow become some of her closest friends, but she still isn’t invested in them enough to care if they move on after semi-finals or not. Yet, Beca does want them to be better, because Chloe wants them to. Beca couldn’t care less what happened to the Bellas for herself, but deep down she knew that they had to do well for Chloe’s sake.

But that would be too cheesy to say out loud.

“Whatever,” she says instead, ignoring the victorious look in Chloe’s eyes. “Want to learn how to play a song?”

The loud, excited noise that Chloe responds with is enough to make Beca flinch, but she can’t help but smile at the other girl’s enthusiasm. She helps Chloe place her hands where they’re supposed to go and slowly begins to teach her an easy song, ignoring the fact that she’s pretty much already completely head over heels for the girl sitting next to her.

* * *

Beca looks out hopefully into the audience. It’s her first concert as a freshman in high school, and to say that she was excited would be an understatement. Her choir teacher had been so impressed when she auditioned that he put her in the top choir- a feat nearly unheard of. When Beca had told her parents, they had been ecstatic for her, telling her over and over again how proud they were of her. Her dad had taken them all out for ice cream, which is the first time they had done something as a family in months.

Now, as Beca searches the large audience, she can’t help but wonder if her dad had ever actually been excited about her accomplishment at all. Her mom sits all alone amidst the mass of people, a jacket draped over the empty seat next to her reserving the space for her absent husband.

Beca’s heart plummets when she sees that her dad isn’t here, and her mom catches her eye. She gives Beca a sympathetic look, which makes Beca quickly avert her gaze. Beca didn’t want her pity.

Besides, she had been looking forward to this concert since school started, so she had to try and ignore the disappointment she felt growing in her gut. Beca forces a smile on her face as the director cues them to start and loses herself in the music and the familiar rush that singing always brought to her.

When the final notes of their performance ring out through the auditorium and the audience starts cheering their praises to the choir, Beca can’t help but let her eyes slide back over to where her mom is sitting- well standing, now, along with the rest of the audience. The seat reserved for her dad is still empty.

The thundering of applause doesn’t feel quite as satisfying as it did moments ago.

*

Later that night, Beca sits alone at the piano. The rest of the house is quiet; her mom had gone to get ready for bed fifteen minutes ago, leaving Beca to entertain herself for the rest of the night.

Their front room that houses the piano is dark, save for the lamp in the corner that illuminates the room just enough to see the keys of the piano.

Beca is sits in front of the piano with her hands in her lap, trying her best to control the emotions raging inside. There are so many of them that she doesn’t even know what she’s feeling- sadness, disappointment, anger, all swirling around in her mind and taunting her to lose control.

She wants to scream, to cry, to hurt something so that she won’t feel so hurt herself. Beca had gone to the piano in hopes that she could soothe the pain by playing for a little bit, but now she finds that she has no desire to even set her hands on the keys.

So now she sits alone, fighting a war inside that is ultimately leaving her feeling empty. Hollow.

Numb.

Numb is a good way to think of it. Beca figures that numbess is a good way to cope with out of control emotions. Why feel too much when you can just feel nothing at all?

Beca is so disconnected that she only barely registers the sound of the garage door opening. She only becomes aware of what's going on around her when soft footsteps approach her, stopping beside the piano bench. “Hey, Bug,” her dad says quietly. Beca doesn’t look at him, just continues to stare at the keys in front of her in a daze. Out of the corner of her eye she sees a bouquet of flowers being set on the lid of the piano.

Beca chooses to remain silent.

Her dad sighs. “Listen, I’m sorry I didn’t make it to your concert. I know you were really looking forward to it. I got busy grading some papers at the school, and then I got busy making some revisions on my thesis, and then my coworker needed help with…”

He continues talking, making excuse after excuse as to why he wasn’t there, but Beca drones him out. She didn’t want to hear his reasons, and she didn’t know if she wanted to forgive him quite yet. He had said he was sorry, which meant that she should tell him that it was okay, but honestly? Beca didn’t know if it was. He had made her a promise that he would be there, no matter what, and he broke that promise. So it really wasn’t okay that he missed the concert, not really.

Still, Beca knew that she needed to forgive him. He was her father, after all, and Beca knew that he always tried to do what was best for her, even if he wasn’t successful all the time. There would be other concerts, ones that he would for sure make it to.

Plus, Beca knew that her mom was probably going to chew him out later, so it might be better if both of them weren’t mad at him.

“It’s okay,” Beca says after he’s done talking, tearing her eyes away from the piano to look up at him. She pretends it doesn’t bother her how he doesn’t actually look all that apologetic. “You’re a busy guy, I get it.” Beca shrugs her shoulders and looks down at her hands. “There’ll be other concerts.”

Her dad pats her on the shoulder. Places a kiss on top of her head. Beca fights the unfamiliar urge to pull away. “Thank you for understanding, Bec. I don’t know what I did to deserve a kid as good as you.”

Beca forces a stiff laugh out of her mouth. “I do what I can,” she attempts to say lightly. Her dad chuckles in reply and starts making his way out of the room, but Beca spins around on the bench to stop him at the last second. “Do you want to play piano for a little bit before going to bed?” she asks him quickly with wide eyes, causing him to stop and turn to look at her. “It’s been a while since we’ve played together.”

He brings up a hand to scratch at the back of his head. “I don’t think I’m up for playing right now. I’m kind of worn out,” he tells her, avoiding eye contact. “I think I’m just going to head to bed.”

“Oh,” Beca says in a soft voice, feeling her heart sink again. “Yeah, okay. Sounds good.”

“Maybe later,” her dad says noncommittally.

“Maybe later,” Beca echoes unbelievingly.

“Goodnight, Bec.”

“Night, Dad.”

He walks out of the room and Beca hears the sounds of his footsteps on the stairs shortly after, which Beca knows is a prelude to the shouting. She squeezes her eyes shut and breathes deeply; trying to reach that blissful numbness she had felt before.

Beca turns on the bench to face the piano once more and opens her eyes. The keys stare back at her, just asking to be played. Beca reaches out a hand and gently lowers the fallboard, covering the keys for the first time she can remember.

A lone tear rolls down Beca’s cheek, but she hardly notices through the uncomfortable hollowness swallowing her up from the inside.

* * *

Beca stares out the window of the bus, watching the scenery pass by, yet not actually processing any of it. There’s a warm weight resting against her right arm that belongs to Chloe, who’s been leaning against her for the better part of half an hour now. Beca’s unsure if the surprisingly quiet senior is asleep, so she focuses all her energy into holding as still as possible so she doesn’t disrupt her.

The bus had been fairly quiet ever since Fat Amy had been by Bumper’s burrito, as if they were all mourning the loss of Amy’s dignity. Amy, however, has held her head high since the incident, seemingly unbothered by the attack. Beca isn’t sure whether that’s due to pride or ignorance, but either way it’s kind of admirable.

Aubrey calls Chloe’s name from a couple rows back, and Chloe sits up to face her, answering Beca’s question as to whether she was asleep or not. Chloe pulls out an earbud to engage in conversation with Aubrey, and Beca watches her for a second before looking forward. She glances at Amy, who is in the driver’s seat in front of her, and notices a splotch of leftover burrito fillings behind her ear.

Beca quickly looks around to see if anyone’s watching before leaning forward in her seat slightly. “You got yourself a little something there,” she informs the Aussie, gesturing to her ear.

“Just leave it,” Amy tells her seriously. “It fuels my hate fire.”

Beca grins a little before leaning back to sit in her seat again. Chloe is facing forward now, both headphones in and humming along quietly to her music. Beca huffs a small sigh and resists the urge to lean over and press her lips against the ginger’s cheek. She goes back to staring out the window instead.

“I hopped off the plane at LAX with a dream and my cardigan,” Chloe suddenly starts singing beside Beca, causing her to look over at the other girl.

Cynthia-Rose joins in with a higher harmony. “Welcome to the land of fame excess.” Chloe looks back at Cynthia-Rose and smiles. “Am I gonna fit in?”

The rest of the Bellas join in on the next line, adding in background parts and additional harmonies. Even Aubrey, who Beca would have thought had never heard the song before, started singing along, though she was obviously trying to act more proper about it.

Beca rolls her eyes and fights to keep the smile off her face, keeping her eyes focused straight ahead of her. The volume rises when the girls start on the first “And the Jay-Z song was on” and Beca glances over to see Chloe, Aubrey, and the rest of the Bellas all closing in on her. She lets out a startled noise, laughing a little.

They all pause in their singing, staring at Beca expectantly. Stacie wiggles her fingers. Aubrey gives her a playfully stern look. Chloe, who’s taken out one earbud at this point, nods her head in encouragement and pokes her side lightly with a grin on her face.

And honestly, Beca really can’t say no to these girls. Not after everything they’ve been through this year.

So Beca rolls her eyes a little, smiles, and starts belting out the words along with the rest of the Bellas.

Beca allows herself to let go all the way and completely jam out to the dumb pop song, which she only feels slightly dumb for doing, but the huge smile overtaking Chloe’s face and the happy look in her eyes is enough to make any embarrassment Beca may feel vanish.

They sing together for all of about twenty seconds before the bus starts making clunking noises, causing all of them to slowly stop their jamming in confusion.

“It’s a… It’s… uhhh…” Amy trials off in her singing, looking down at the gas gauge. “Whoa.”

“What the hell?” Aubrey asks.

“Umm it’s pretty cool, actually,” Amy says lightly. “I think we’re just runnin’ out of gas.”

“No, that can’t be!” Aubrey insists. “You just filled the tank.”

“Yeah, I did,” Amy replies. “And, yet, maybe I didn’t… because I got hit by flying Mexican food.” The rest of the girls shoot worried glances at each other while Amy slowly pulls the bus over. “Aaaand we’re out.”

“Aca-scuse me?” Aubrey asks in disbelief.

“Aca-believe it,” Fat Amy tells her. “Man, what are we gonna do?”

Besides Beca, Chloe closes her eyes and puts her head in her hands, taking deep breaths in an attempt to stay calm. Beca rubs a hand soothingly up and down her back.  Chloe speaks up softly after a moment. “Maybe we could call-”

“No!” Aubrey immediately cuts her off. “Don’t even say it, Chloe. How dare you.”

Beca narrows her eyes at Aubrey.

“No, actually that is a really good idea,” Amy innocently says from the front. “I’ve got Bumper’s number.”

“Why do you have Bumper’s number?” Aubrey asks, exasperated.

Amy starts trying to come up with an explanation, and Beca takes the opportunity of everyone’s attention being focused on that to reach down and take one of Chloe’s hands. Chloe looks up at her gratefully, and Beca squeezes her hand reassuringly before bringing their joined hands up to her lips to brush a quick kiss across Chloe’s knuckles.

And if anyone saw her do that, Beca honestly doesn’t think that would be the worst thing in the world.

* * *

The worst thing in the world, as it turns out, is an hour long bus ride with the Treblemakers.

Beca spent the ride wedged between Chloe and Jessica, listening to Bumper and Amy’s banter while becoming increasingly more and more agitated the whole time. When they finally arrived at their destination, Beca was just about ready to kiss the ground outside the bus.

About an hour later, the Bellas ready themselves for performance and gather backstage. The group going before them, the Footnotes, is good- like, really good. Their lead singer looks about 14, and the way he keeps shooting flirtatious looks at Beca indicates that he acts 14 as well.

Beca hates them.

The longer the Footnotes perform, the more anxious the Bellas seem to get. Most of the girls alternate between pacing, making flustered comments, and nervously watching their set.

A guy comes up to tell Aubrey that they have five minutes, and Stacie whirls on the blonde. “Where’d he come?” she asks worriedly.

Aubrey just shushes her.

Behind her, Beca can hear Amy whispering to Chloe. “It’s over. There’s no way we can beat the Footnotes and the Trebles.”

The Footnotes finish up their set and the audience reacts with thunderous applause. Aubrey beckons them all into a huddle. “We will be fine as long as we do the set list exactly as we rehearsed,” she says sternly, looking right at Fat Amy. “Okay? Exactly.”

Amy nods her head a little and averts her eyes. Beca shakes her head at the bullshittery of it all.

“Hands in,” Aubrey orders, glaring daggers at Beca.

“On three or after three?” Stacie asks.

Aubrey’s nostrils flare. “Screw it, let’s just do it.”

The announcer on stage introduces them and the Bellas walk out to polite applause, (forced) smiles on their faces. Aubrey blows into the pitch pipe, counts them off, and then they’re off on their boring old set.

Beca briefly wonders if it’s possible to throw up just from the thought of going through their set again.

She bets Aubrey could do it.

Beca’s actions go on autopilot as she lets her eyes look out into the audience. Their faces are unexcited, uninterested, and all around unimpressed. The DJ pulls out his phone and starts swiping through it, head propped up against his hand. She glances to her left to see the Footnotes dancing mockingly to their arrangement.

Anger and embarrassment overtakes Beca, and a terrible idea flashes through her head. It’s honestly a horrid thing to think of, but Beca has just enough angry adrenaline coursing through her body to be spontaneous and go through with it.

As soon as Chloe’s done with her solo, Beca quickly wets her lip in preparation and starts to sing at the same time Aubrey’s solo starts. “Bulletproof” may not be the easiest song to lay over the top of Ace of Base, but Beca thinks she pulls it off pretty well.

Chloe shoots a shocked – but delighted – expression over her shoulder, and it encourages Beca to keep going, despite the way Aubrey turns fully around to glare right at her.

Actually, maybe the glare is enough by itself. Beca grins cockily at Aubrey and sings even louder.

She sees Amy stumble a little on the choreography next to her, but the other girls don’t seem phased at all by Beca’s addition. Out in the audience the judges are nodding their heads in approval, which gives Beca all the validation she needs to know that she made the right decision.

Beca stops singing the mashup when they switch into “Eternal Flame” and side eyes Aubrey when she feels the blonde staring harshly at her. Beca can’t keep the pleased expression off her face, but continues on with the rest of the set as planned.

As soon as their performance is done, Beca quickly makes her way backstage, already anticipating Aubrey’s wrath. She and Amy exchange goofy looks with each other as they speed walk away, Chloe not far behind them. Soon enough Aubrey comes storming up to Beca through the rest of the Bellas.

“What the hell, Beca?” she demands, pushing her way through Stacie and Cynthia-Rose. “Were you trying to screw us up?”

Beca is immediately on the defensive. “Are you serious?” she asks, a small amount of bite to her tone.

“News flash, this isn’t the Beca show,” Aubrey fires back.

Beca recoils. “Okay, I’m sorry that I messed you up, but in case you hadn’t noticed, everybody pretty much dozed off during our set.”

“It’s not your job to decide what we do and when we do it,” Aubrey tells her haughtily. “Why don’t you ask the rest of the group how they felt about your little improvisation?”

Beca has no comeback for that. Her eyes immediately shoot to Chloe, only to see that their so-called “Co-Captain” was pointedly avoiding her gaze. Hurt flares through Beca, because Chloe had promised her that she would always have her back. Yet now, at the moment of truth, it appeared that all Chloe was full of was empty words. Beca turns her attention towards Fat Amy instead, hoping the bold Australian will be brave enough to speak up.

“Amy?” she implores desperately.

Amy looks at her uncertainly. “It was cool,” she starts timidly. “But, it did take us a little bit by surprise.”

“Yeah, a lot by surprise!” Aubrey immediately jumps in. Beca only glares at her in response. Aubrey straightens her uniform. “I told you she wasn’t Bella.”

“Aubrey, don’t,” Chloe tries to counter weakly, and anger bursts inside Beca.

“No, that’s okay,” Beca says before Chloe or Aubrey can say anything, causing the redhead to look over at her. “You don’t have to pretend you’re allowed to have a say in the group, right?”

Beca can see the way her words affect Chloe, but she can’t find it in herself to feel bad about it. Chloe looks down at her feet and she visibly deflates, sinking in on herself.

Aubrey wasn’t quite done yet. “Your attitude sucks, you’re a grade-A pain in my ass, and I know you’re hooking up with Chloe and I don’t like it.”

Usually these words coming from Aubrey didn’t cut through Beca as much as they were right now, but they hit differently after everything that’s happened in the last minute or so.

“You don’t have to worry about Chloe, Aubrey,” Beca says through gritted teeth. She stares blankly at Chloe, and the other girl looks up to meet her eyes. “Because there is definitely nothing going on there.”

Chloe’s eyes fall away again.

Footsteps approach from behind her, and a familiar voice speaks up. “Hey, is everything alright here?”

Jesse.

Beca whirls on him. “Can you back off?” she snaps.

Jesse holds up his hands in surrender and takes a few steps backwards with wide, concerned eyes. Beca turns back to face the Bellas, resisting the urge to punch Aubrey’s smug face.

“If this is what I get for trying,” Beca says dejectedly, though she doesn’t finish the thought. She spares one last glance at Chloe’s crestfallen expression before pushing through the Trebles and out the backstage door.

The sting of tears threatens her eyes, but Beca only hardens her expression and swallows down the urge to cry. Nobody she’d just left behind was worth any of her time or emotions, and she doesn’t know how they ever tricked her into believing otherwise.

#fanfic #pitch perfect #bechloe #beca mitchell #chloe beale #life is not a love song #the angst is upon us folks #v sorry

[idkhyuck]

21 DAYS OF CHRISTMAS WITH NCT

DAY 4 MARK  *two days late. 

MARK LEE x READER AU! 

SUMMARY: what if Mark Lee was still that normal boy playing guitar in church. church boy!mark lee x reader have a prestigious Christmas eve duet in front of their entire church

tw// MENTIONS OF RELIGIOUS CELEBRATIONS IDK I DON’T WANNA HURT ANY ATHEISTS I LOVE Y’ALL TOO. 

I sat through the sermon trying my hardest to pay attention but all that’s was on my mind was how good mark looked today. He walked in with his guitar, his hair damp from the snow, cheeks rosy from the snow. A literal Angel. The Choir and the Band were meeting after mass to discuss the Christmas masses coming up. If I was able to not pass out maybe I could ask mark out for a hot chocolate, not that I’ve failed the past 15 times I’ve tried to talk to him.

 “Y/N I want you on to do O Holy Night this year.” The choir director said shocking me and everyone else in the room “You’ve grown so much this year, and you’ve earned it.” O Holy Night was the solo performance everyone fought for every Christmas. I never thought I would ever get a chance at it; I didn’t even put my name in the box of names the director put out.

“Really?” I asked.

“Yes, and Mark will accompany you.” He said, “I’ll over see a private practice every second day leading up until Christmas mass.” He said “Two weeks you guys can do it. Come get the music.” He motioned towards both of us. I walked up and picked up my sheets and turned to smile softly at mark, he returned my smile and I felt lightheaded. Oh, my goodness how am I supposed to survive. I went back to my seat and studied my music. This piece wasn’t easy, but I knew if I worked hard enough, I could pick it up easily, I just had to not be nervous around mark of in front of the crowd for that matter. Holy shit a solo on Christmas eve mass.

 I was sitting in the Café down the road from the church, the snow lightly falling, the cold wind blowing the snow around wildly, I had my first practice with mark in a 20 minutes and my best friend was sitting across from me trying to calm me down.

“You’ve got this in the bag, you don’t even need to practice.” She said “you slayed practice today. Your voice is already warmed up, so it’ll come easy.” She said matter of factly sipping at her latte “You’re the best singer in our choir.” She said, “Mark is the best guitarist in the band.” She said “two God gifted people celebrating the birth of the lord on Christmas eve in song. Father may cry” she laughed. I shoved her and stood up and took a deep breath “I’ll be here waiting for you to come back.” I waved at her and grabbed my tea and made my way back to the church. Mark was getting out of his parents’ car when I pulled up

“hey partner.” He said smiling at me as he got his guitar out of the back of the car

“hey.” I said quietly. “you ready?” I asked as he waved goodbye to his dad.

“Lead the way.” He said pointing to the door, I opened the door and we made our way quietly down the stairs into basement of our church where all of our practices were held.

“hello! Right on time.” Our director said, “We’ll work on just running through it once.” He said “don’t’ worry about mistakes that’s what were here to fix.” He said, “We’re all friends here anyway.” He laughed and we both laughed nervously. Mark looked a little nervous like me, was he worried about this too. He took out his guitar and started tuning it and this is when I would warm up my voice, but I had actual choir practice not even an hour ago and a huge cup of tea. “okay, I’ll play the piano, mark join in when you feel ready. Y/N. start.” I took a deep breath and looked down the first few words quieter than I thought they would be “projection y/n. the church acoustics can only do so much.” He laughed “From the top.” He started again deep breath and this time it came out much louder and clearer. By the second verse I could hear mark start strumming at his guitar, my heart picked up and apparently so did my singing because “tempo guys keep it together ba ba ba, ba ba ba.” He said tapping the top of the piano, I didn’t dare look at mark, but I could feel his eyes on me. My voice was a bit strained as I got to “Fall on your knees” because I wasn’t breathing, and I could hear a few out of tune plinks from marks guitar “okay. Enough.” The choir director said, and Mark and I looked at each other. “it’s obvious we have some nerves here.” He said, “remember to breathe y/n and Mark remember the tempo, it’s not a race.” He said grabbing a metronome from the top of the piano “we’ll work on you first.” He said pointing to me. “you got a bit fast in the middle.” We went through the song a few times acapella and I could really feel it, this song was much harder than I thought it would be. “that’s enough for you today. Just harmonize with marks playing for the rest of the hour.” He said as he turned to mark. He helped mark figure out the best finger placements and they sat there strumming through the song so many times. My fingers were sore from just watching them. It was such a dream to see mark like this, he was wearing a hoodie, his hair pushed back. He was always dressed in the band clothes. He was so focused when he was playing, his face would scrunch when he messed up. He’d smile when he got through a piece. He looked so soft and huggable when he was playing. I still remember the first time he joined the band; I was 15 and had been in choir for a year now. He moved here with his family and was looking for somewhere to play so his family suggested the church band. We went to the same high school but never talked. The time we spent in church together was my favourite. It’s like he was different here and it connected us. When we graduated last year, I was worried he’d move away for college, but he was still here. Our parents actually talked a lot, we just never did mostly due to my awkwardness which has gotten progressively worse as we’ve aged.

 Practice came to an end and we were packing up our things “you uh did great.” I heard behind me, I turned and blushed

“you too.” I said glancing up at him then down again.

“do you have a ride home?” he asked me as he put his picks away in the bag on the bench

“yeah, I’m actually meeting y/f/n at the café down the road for a bit.”

“ah, okay.” He said, “I’ll see you Thursday then.” He said putting on his hood and grabbing his stuff

“yeah.” I replied as I fumbled with my coat and then we both awkwardly made our way up the stairs. I was already halfway down the block when I heard

“hey wait.” I froze and turned to see mark rubbing the back of his head “can I get your number? Just in case we want to work on some things or whatever.” He said, “it’ll be easier.” He said running down the block to meet me

“oh, yeah, of course.” I said as he handed me his phone, I put my number in and “I’ll uh see you.” I said awkwardly doing a finger guns and turning. I wanted to die, I heard him giggle as I walked away. Crap, I didn’t get his number. I was mentally torn to shreds by time I got to the café and all My best friend could do was laugh at me.

 The following Tuesday

“Okay! This is our last practice before the mass sunday.” The director said. “We’ve got to get it all together.” He said. I pretty much had the song down acapella. It was when we tried to piece it together that’d we’d mess up. Mark and I were not in heavenly harmony, and it made me sad. “I’ll see you guys sunday.” The choir director said. “Put in some practice and take care of your voice.” He said to me specifically. I walked home that evening worried beyond belief that we’d never get it. I was just finished dinner when my phone beeped, an unknown text came up

“y/n?”

“it’s mark.” Came in a second later, my heart picked up slightly

“Hey, what’s up?” I asked

“wanna meet for an extra practice?”

“right now?” I asked

“yeah. My bible study group just let out, I’m still at the church, come and I’ll let you in.” He said of course he took bible study, goodness I might love him.

“I’ll ask my parents.”

“I’ll drive you home after.” He said, my heart fluttered.

“okay. I’ll see you in a few.” I said I ran down the stairs and put on my coat and made my way towards the church, the snow was falling lightly and the cold bit at my nose as I ran down the road. I stood outside the church taking a few deep breaths and trying my best to remain calm. The door bust open and a few kids from the high school came out. I snuck in; I heard the guitar coming from inside the church. I walked in and saw him sitting there on the stool in front of him with his eyes closed he was playing through our piece with such concentration it was beautiful. I felt weird just standing there so I walked in slowly and sat in the pew in front row. The creaking of the pew scaring both him and I. I laughed and he placed his guitar down

“sorry, I didn’t hear you come in.”

“no worries. Those guys let me in.”

“k cool.” He said pulling his stool over to me “okay. So, I was thinking we could practice in here like it was an actual church day. Get a feel for how we’ll really sound.” He said pulling his hoodie sleeves up.

“that’s genius.” I said standing up

“okay. So you need to warm up or anything?” he asked

“I’m still pretty okay.” I said clearing my throat.

“okay. So I’ll count us. Stand right here.” He said tapping his foot in front of him. I moved over and awkwardly stood in front of him. he counted and started playing I came in right on que a little quiet. The empty pews kind of intimidating to look at my voice cracked

“you okay?” He asked, I turned and fiddled with my sleeves

“yeah, it’s just it’s pretty empty in here.” I laughed “and like I’m used to it being full and standing with the choir and idk I just feel really alone. And that sounds so stupid.” I said laughing awkwardly playing with my sleeve.

“no, I get it.” He said, “I’ve been kind of freaking out too.” He said, “I’ve never played solo before.”

“I’ve never sung a solo before.” I said

“we’ll technically we’re not solo.” He said smiling and looking down “We have each other.” He said quietly. “Here.” He said standing up “Look right at me.” He said grabbing my arms and standing me in front of him I couldn’t hide the blush that rose on my cheeks.

“okay.” I said looking up at him. his brown eyes so incredibly comforting and absolutely sparkly in the lights of the church. I counted us in and tried my best to maintain eye contact with him. I got so lost in marks eyes and the sound of the guitar playing that I didn’t have time to focus or worry that I hit the note easily. His eyes lit up; realization hit me

“OH MY GOD. OH, MY GOODNESS!” I said putting my hand over my mouth because I just used the lords name in vain in the church. He laughed at me then pulled me into a hug.

“YOU DID IT!” He said excitedly. I was frozen, it was such a new feeling being this close to him, The faint smell of his cologne? Soap? Shampoo? It was intoxicating His arms wrapped around me. He then realized what he was doing he let me go then held me at arms length. His eyes were lit up and his cheeks were blushing furiously. “sorry.” He said. I hoped to the good lord above he couldn’t hear my heart beating 100 miles per hour.

“it’s okay.” I said looking down. “Can we try that again?” I said “The signing. I mean.” I said stumbling over my words.

“Yeah. Of course.” He said sitting back on his stool with his guitar. “okay. I’m right here.” He said I nodded and then we played through the song 3 more times each time I gained more confidence; each time mark would put his arm around me or pat me in excitement.  I wish I could be as comfortable with his as he seems to be with me. “I think we’ve pretty much got this.” He said looking at his watch “If we head out now I’ll buy you a hot chocolate in celebration.” He said standing up and gathering his things then straightening up to look at me “if you want.”

“that’d be nice.” I said walking to gather my music and my coat.

“k cool.” He said loading his backpack with his bible study stuff. “I’m parked on the side so watch it might be icy.” He said as he slipped on his coat. He grabbed his guitar case and we were off.

Once inside his car he cranked the heat and turned the radio to a Christmas station. He blew on his hands then grabbed the wheel as he backed out a bunch of papers fell from his dashboard

“sorry.” He said reaching for them touching my thigh in the process “sorry.” He said again “My homework.” He said. I reached down to pick up the papers out of reach from him. “I was studying before I went into the church.” He said as I passed them to him.

“What’s your major?” I asked him

“um I’m double majoring.” He said, “music and a writing degree.”

“oh wow! And you lead youth group.”

“I like to keep busy.” He said, “I work full time at my dad’s café too.” He said, “I’m saving so I can head out and travel and do music somewhere.” He said quietly “but what about you? What do you want to do?”

“me.” I said dreading this. He was a literal saint and I was halfway through my gap year unable to pick something to do about 5 minutes away from applying to the psychology major program just so I can do something “um. Well I’m taking a gap year.” I said, “I’m not sure what I want to do.” I said “all I’ve ever really done Is go to school, and work and church and choir.” I laughed “I don’t have many hobbies outside of choir.” I said

“well why not that?” he said

“me? Be a singer?” I laughed

“You’ve improved so much in just the two years I’ve known you.” He said

“I don’t know I never thought about it. I still feel like that scared little 15-year-old girl in the backrow every time I get up there.”

“you’re the O’ Holy night angel this year.” He said incredulously

“is that what were calling it now?” I asked

“only because it’s you.” He said. Oh, he’s getting brave

“oh.” I said hoping he couldn’t see my blush “that could be something to look into. Why do you want to do music?” I asked him

“I just really love writing, lyrics, poems, stories everything.” He said “And music is something I obviously love so why not do something I love. I’ve moved around quite a bit so like that’s kind of what kept me sane. I just really love it and just maybe one day I’ll have that same effect on some kid just like me. It’s stupid I guess.” He said, “but it’s what I wanna do so I’m trying my best.” He said

“Mark that’s incredible!” I said, “I’ll remember you when you’re out there performing to millions.” I said reaching out to put my hand on top of his. “do you have any music that you wrote?” I asked, “I’d love to hear it.” I said

“I’ll show you sometime.” He said as we pulled into the coffee drive thru. He placed the order and paid then we were off “you wanna go to like a karaoke room sometime?” He asked

“uh sure.” I said, “I’ve never been.”

“do you only sing church songs?” He asked side eyeing me jokingly

“no.” I said back “I’ve just never done much singing outside of church.”

“We’re gonna fix that.” He said picking up his phone “gimme an artist.”

“uh I don’t know.” I said panicking

“here.” He said passing me his phone “play me your favourite- non church- song to sing to.” He said I put on a Disney song. “now sing!” he said I started out quietly “it’s just me and you in the church.” He said and I couldn’t stop the smile that formed on my lips as I sung along to the song. “See.” He said smiling at me “singing is definitely your thing.” He said

“you really think so?” I asked him taking a sip of the hot chocolate, He nodded beside me as he turned the heat down

“i think it’d be a waste of talent NOT to pursue singing, the worst that’ll come of a music degree is you become a music teacher.” He said, “and even that isn’t a horrible gig.” He laughed

“thanks.”  I said looking down. We pulled into my block “I’m this one right here.” I said “Thanks for the drink. And the ride. And the practice.” I said

“no problem.” He said, “See you Sunday Christmas angel.” He said I leaned over to kiss his cheek and that took his newfound confidence down a notch he sat there looking down with his cheeks blushing as I got out. I walked up my driveway, I turned to see him siting there his hand on his cheek.

 Sunday morning Christmas eve mass #1

“you’ve got this.” Mark said to me as we walked into the church. Our parents not far behind us. Mark and I talked nonstop since our private practice on Thursday. We hung out yesterday at the café. He showed me all the cool things he was able to do within his study at the university. I hung out and listen to him as he did homework. We’re not dating but I could definitely see it going that way someday and that thought made me so happy. My mom surprised me with a dress for today I felt so bad to have to wear my choir robe over.

“you look beautiful!” out choir director said, “do not put that on.” He said, “you’ll stand centre today, We haven’t a moment to waste.” He said rushing me over to the risers. We ran through our warm and up and discussed the schedule for today. We had an hour between each mass. Soon the church was filling for the first mass, it was only the first mass but there was more than the Sunday usual already. I tried my best to keep my nerves are bay I looked at mark

“You and me baby.” He mouthed and I blushed and nodded. We opened with our normal hymns. I prayed really hard during mass for guidance into the new year as I thought more and more each day about pursuing music and mark. Soon it was time for me to sing my heart out for the first time today. Mark started into the song I and I stepped off the riser towards the front of the altar. I was really comfortable singing the song now. I looked out and saw my parents sitting right beside marks parents. Both our dads discreetly recording us our mothers beaming with pride. We finished the song looking into each others’ eyes. Father stood up clapping and all the other people started clapping.

“That was beautiful. Thank you, my children.” He said standing in between us his arms around us “two of our brightest stars with pure god given talent. Give them another hand.” He said we bowed and made our way back to our spots. The mass closed out and then We were free for an hour. I went over to mark unsure of what to do as people left. People were coming over to us and thanking us for the performance and praising us. One of the regulars -an older lady who used to bake cookies for Sunday school- came over to us

“you two are a beautiful couple. I can tell the lord has big plans for you guys, such angels.” she said as she shook both of out hands “may god bless you both.” He said We thanked her. Mark didn’t deny us being a couple, then again neither did I. did this mean anything? Idk. Soon my mom came over to hug me

“That was beautiful my darling.” She said, “And you.” She turned to mark offering him a hug “such talent.” She said as she pulled away. We made our way down to the basement where lunch was being served. My best friend and I sat on the stage singing Christmas carols with the Sunday school kids. Mark came over with his guitar and played for us. Mass started again the nerves were gone from me completely. After our performance father came over and held us again “That’s even better the second time.” He said, “I’m so blessed I get to hear these two perform 4 more times today.” He said as we walked back to our spots. More blessings and praises, more carols in the basement. It wasn’t until after the fourth mass that I started feeling tired and overwhelmed mark must have noticed

“wanna go for a drive?” he asked me as we followed the people out of the church

“yes.”  I said. We grabbed our coats and not even 10 minutes later we were in the Tim Hortons parking lot me with a cup of tea him with a coffee and a cookie. “Thank you.” I said

“I was getting pretty tired.” He said, “you’re doing great, absolutely killing it.” He said

“I’m proud of us.” I laughed “I’m so tired oh my goodness.” I said leaning my head back.

“Me too.” He laughed “we’re killing it.”

“I swear father is gonna cry yet.” I laughed

“I’m surprised my mom hasn’t cried yet.” Mark said taking the final bite of his cookie.

“I’m just shocked they’re sitting through all the masses.”

“Can I be honest?” he asked looking at me “I blanked out these past two masses, I don’t know how father does it the same mass 6 times in one day, same sermon, Same songs.”

“same.” I said, “I’ve sat through it four times already and I’m certain I’ll never forget the readings.”

“Can I be honest again?” he asked turning towards me.

“yes.”

“all I’m really thinking about right now is kissing you. And I don’t know why I said that.” He said taking a big sip of his coffee his face blushing and looking anywhere but at me

“well kiss me then.” I said bringing his chin up, so his eyes met mine. He leaned across the console and held my face in his hands. They were a cold clammy, I was sure mine would be shaking if I didn’t have them balled into fists as I wrapped my arms around his neck. He looked down at me his eyes soft and sparkly as usual. His breath was warm on my face a mix of chocolate and coffee. I closed my eyes as I closed the gap between us. I still tasted the chocolate on his lips as we met, We moved soft and slow against each other, it’s been so long since I’ve been kissed and honestly the first time I’ve felt this way I wanted to kiss him more and longer and forever. His arms moved from my face to wrap around my sides I held him close to me by the back of his head. I wanted to run my fingers through the soft hairs that tickled at my fingers as we moved in unison. I had to pull away to catch a breath. I looked at him his eyes were lit up; his cheeks were flushed. His lips were red and covered in my gloss. Oh my god… he was beautiful. I pulled him back into me and kissed him again. He pulled back so I was leaning over the console and him, my phone was ringing in the distance we kept kissing his hands holding my up by my sides. My hands one around him in his hair on his chest holding myself up. It rang again. I pulled away this time and looked at it was my mom. We had 8 minutes to get back to the church.

“oh no.” He said looking at his phone.

“Go back through the drive through we’ll get them coffees too.” I said pulling his mirror down to look at myself, my face was just as flushed and my gloss was all over my face. I grabbed at the napkins and tried to clean up only to realize I didn’t have any to reapply because I left it at the church. Mark was busy ordering for coffee as I texted my mom where I was.

“Are you with mark?” She asked

“yeah.” I replied. No reply I couldn’t tell if that was good or back. We sped back to the church mark wiped off any remnants of lip gloss from his lips and carried the coffee in. The procession was lining up ready to go in when. We bowed and made our way to our respective spots. I could feel my best friends gaze on me as I smoothed out my dress to sit down. We made It through the service and found ourselves in the basement once again.

“one more.” Mark said sitting down beside me on the stage.

“one more.” I sighed taking a sip of my now cold tea. I looked at him and his hair was still standing up in the back I laughed “Your hair.” I said quietly. He blushed and started patting at the back of his head. My best friend came over

“I could not be prouder of you too.” She said sitting beside us.

“thanks.” I said

“Your parents were freaking the heck out when you two disappeared last mass, I thought father was gonna have an aneurysm when you were late”

“The line at Tim Horton’s was insane. I guess lots of people stop there after mass.” Mark lied

“I guess.” She said. We sat there talking about our Christmas plans a few more hours and we ‘d be home.

Midnight mass, Arguably the biggest most important mass in all the church year. Everyone and their mother show up to midnight mass even if it’s the only mass they go to all year. I tried not to let crowd get to me as the church filled. We had extra duty singing as the church filled. There were the little kids doing the nativity play out in the lobby, they’d come in and sit as the live nativity as mass went on. Mass started and I really paid attention again after tuning out the last few masses. Father was really giving his all. All the kids acting out the actions as the story of Jesus’ birth was told. It was my turn, I went and stood beside mark, I looked right at him as he played, I didn’t dare look out at he crowd. He smiled at me as we sang. This was the last time I’d sing this this year, so I really tried my best to give it my all. I hit the final note and my chest was heaving for air, Mark was smiling at me ear to ear, the church erupted in applause and father came over wiping at his eyes “The presence of the lord has been felt with you two here all day. Thank you.” He said I hugged mark and bit my cheek so I wouldn’t laugh. We bowed and wished everyone a Merry Christmas, we walked out of the church following the procession, Our lips meeting as we stood in the lobby kissing each other softly not caring who was watching.

#MARK LEE AU #MARK LEE X READER #CHURCH BOY!MARK #NCT 127 #SUPER M #MARK LEE CHRISTMAS

[fic-for-fic-sake]

Singing Valentine’s

A/N: I know it isn’t Valentine’s Day but I was watching the Valentine’s episode of Glee and got inspired. Also don’t judge too harshly, I wrote this in like ten minutes

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Senior year of college was everything you thought it would be, well...almost everything. You had hoped love would find you some way or another during college but it seemed that the cards weren’t in your favor, so to speak. That was, until you met Professor Barnes. 

You had come back from the winter holiday a few days early to hang out with friends before the madness of your final semester started. You decided to trudge your way through the snow to go to a cafe downtown. When you stepped inside the inviting warmth of the coffee shop you noticed that every seat was taken. Dejected, you almost gave up when someone motioned for you to join them. 

“Thanks.” You replied, putting your coat behind your seat before sitting opposite the kind stranger. 

“Don’t mention it doll, not like I was usin’ it anyway.” He replied, you noticed his Brooklyn accent and quirked an eyebrow. What was someone from New York doing here in your small college town? Interesting. You managed to flag down a waitress and asked her for a latte. 

You and the stranger got to talking and he told you his name was Bucky and he had just moved here and was teaching a few classes this semester, though he forgot which ones. You and he had a lovely conversation that even veered towards flirty at times. You griped about having to walk in the increasing snow back to your apartment and he offered to give you a ride there. 

When he dropped you off at your door he had asked if he could see you again. You told him your number before he drove off and you went inside feeling better than you had this morning. 

On the first day of classes you noticed that you had Romanian 100 last. Normally, you wouldn’t take the language as your minor was Spanish but the class was one credit and it was offered to people whose major or minor was a romance language. The idea was that you had already learned one romance language so a second one would come more naturally to you. As you walked into the small classroom you noticed that there were only five other people there, making you the sixth. 

You were just about to double check the roster to make sure you were in the right place when you heard the door close and a pair of footsteps make their way over to the blackboard to write on it. 

“Hi everyone, my name is Professor Barnes, welcome to Romanian 100.” an all too familiar voice said. You snapped your head up to meet the familiar icy blue eyes that belonged to Bucky. His expression changed to shock for a fraction of a second before he smarted himself and looked elsewhere. 

That was a month ago and you were in despair. Obviously Bucky hadn’t reached out to you because that would be inappropriate, he was your professor after all. But that didn’t stop the two of you from exchanging flirty glances each others way when the others were doing their work. 

Your friends were hearing you gripe about it for what had to be the millionth time when you headed to choir practice that evening. You were in one of the many choral groups on campus. Some people said your group was the most elite but all you saw was a group of people who through the years became your friends. 

“Why don’t you tell him how you feel?” Christian asked. You rolled your eyes, Christian was many things, a hopeless romantic was one of them. 

“Yeah, he’s my professor so I don’t think that’ll work.” You retorted, taking you seat in the alto section. The director was making sure everyone was accounted for before he began. 

“Now, I know everyone is excited about Valentine’s Day and I am too. Which is why I’m bringing back a tradition that this group hasn’t done in a while.” The director announced. Excited murmurs filled the room as you all guessed about what tradition was coming back. 

“Is it spray painting the statue?” Christian guessed, raising a hand. 

“I’m pretty sure we would get expelled for that.” You replied. 

“It’s singing Valentine’s! You’ll be in groups of six and go around campus spreading the cheer.” Your director explained. “People will pay to have a Valentine sung to someone special. I’ve already put flyers up around campus and have lists for everyone.” 

The next two hours were spent in a flurry of excitement. Your group was yourself, Emily, Marissa, Christian, Ryan, and Aiden. The six of you would be singing “L-O-V-E” by Nat King Cole. After you all felt like you had a good handle on the song you agreed to meet at the campus library tomorrow at 9am to start singing. 

So now here you were, 10am and done your singing list for the day. If you were being honest with yourself, your throat hurt from singing and your feet hurt from walking. You were about to release everyone from their task before Christian whispered something in your ear. 

“You should have us sing to Professor Barnes.” 

“What?” You shot back, “Why?” 

“Tell him how you feel, in song, no time like the present. Plus, none of us have class for another two hours.” Christian answered. He had a point, well several. You straightened your back as you told your group you had one final stop to make. You led them down the winding path that led to Bucky’s office. 

You could feel your cheeks heat up as you walked past several other professors and administrators before you knocked on Bucky’s door. Being the only Romanian professor at the university he had an office to himself. 

“Come in.” You heard his husky voice call from inside. You took a final breath before you opened the door and walked in, followed by the rest of your group. 

“Y/N, what a pleasant surprise, what can I do for you?” He asked, blue eyes surveying everyone before landing on you again. It was unnerving. 

“Well Professor, it’s close to Valentine’s Day and my choir and I are tasked with singing around campus to people. Mind if we give you a sample?” You asked, like it was the most normal request in the world. 

“Sure doll, sing away.” He responded, voice cool as he gestured for you all to begin. You took a deep breath before you gave the starting note and everyone began to sing. You had the solo so you smiled before you started on the melody. 

L is for the way you look at me, O is for the only one I see. You sang as Christian grabbed your hand and playfully twirled you around. You smiled at him before turning your attention back to Bucky, who incidentally was eyeing Christian like he wanted to kill him. 

V is very very, extraordinary, E is even more than anyone that you adore. You walked in front of Bucky’s desk and placed your palms down on it as you leaned over to get closer to him, hoping he would get the message. 

Love is all that I can give to you, love is more than just a game for two. You circled around to his side of the desk and even though you knew it was risky you sat on it and crossed your legs. Bucky kept his eyes glued to yours, seemingly captivated by the beautiful melody coming out of your mouth. 

Two in love can make it, take my heart and please don’t break it. Love was made for me and you. You hopped off of his desk, gave him a wink, and then trailed back to the rest of your group. 

Love was made for me and you. You sang the final words as you looked right into the icy blue eyes that you dreamed about night after night. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day professor.” You whispered, before you and your group promptly turned around and left the office. You were just about to head out the door when your phone buzzed with a message. It was Bucky. 

Come back up to my office, I need to see you.

#Bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #professor barnes au #song fic #avengers fanfic #mcu fanfic

[legobiwan]

Gotta to ask, do have any TV show, book o fanfiction reviews (especially Losing So Much and Undead Chosen One AU, love those fics) for these pressing times?

So for fanfics, I made a rec post a few days ago that might be instructive. Also, if you search my blog for #fic rec or #fic recs, anything not in that post will show up. As I’ve said, I’ve been a little out of the fanfiction consumption side of things the past few months, which is why I have reached out for suggestions. 

TV! Okay, so a rundown of shows I have enjoyed that are non-Star Wars. 

Psych (hilarious and at times poignant. The whole cast is fantastic, but James Roday especially is a damn good actor and shines in the few-and-far-between serious moments on the show. Plus, I am a complete sap for stories focusing on the relationship between parents and their adult children.) 

Russian Doll (captivating story and an easy binge. Think Groundhog day, but with more drugs and cats and based in New York.)

Santa Clarita Diet (season 3 lags a little, but it’s a great twist on the whole zombie thing and Sheila and Joe’s relationship is actually really fun to watch. Lotta gore, though.)

Slings and Arrows (Canadian show featuring Paul Gross as an eccentric theater director in a faux-Stratford Shakespeare Festival organization. Each season features a different play as the backdrop of the show, and if you’ve ever worked for an arts non-profit as a performer or admin or both, you will definitely appreciate how they portray the ever-present war between both sides and the eternal struggles of art vs. business. Plus, it’s just damn funny and you know, Shakespeare.)

Due South (speaking of Paul Gross. This is an oldie, but a goodie, 1990s-style buddy-cop/fish-out-of-water show that is both funny and heartfelt. I grew up on it and it holds a special place in my heart.)

Bojack Horseman (holy shit, this show. What started out as a zany portrayal of entertainment life in LA turned into one of the most piercing social commentaries on gender issues, death, addiction, mental health, sexuality, and inherited trauma. It gets dark in the later seasons, and the next-to-last episode of the whole series is one of the most haunting existential things I have ever watched on television. But it is fucking brilliant and funny and really holds no punches. Plus, if you are familiar with LA at all, the little references are especially hilarious.)

Umbrella Academy (I’m probably preaching to the choir here, but this is a great show if you haven’t checked it out yet.)

Agents of SHIELD (If you’re not in the Marvel fandom, I don’t know how much you’ll dig this, but I personally enjoyed a lot of it, especially Phil Coulson. The first few seasons are a little campy, but it gets darker later on with the digital reality arc and I really found myself enjoying it. Also, this was the first show I treadmill-binged, so it has a place in my heart for helping me to totally reimagine my gym routine.)

Dead Like Me (so someone recommended Dead to Me, and because I’m Very Smart, I ended up starting the wrong show. But this has been an intriguing watch, a very different take on life-after-death which is quite raw at times, but always interesting, especially as it kills off the 18-year-old protagonist at the start. Season 2 isn’t quite matching up to Season 1, but I’ll finish it off sometime in the next week or so.)

Farscape (this is quality Scifi television. Weird, amazing characters, amazing arcs, amazing aliens - definitely an underrated show of its genre)

Daria (ah, this one. There are a lot of reasons this show is personally hilarious to me, but let’s just say that it’s a full-on 90s disaffection cartoon that is smart with a highly relatable protagonist.)

Metalocalypse (this show is 100% over-the-top weird and I am here for it. Plus, Mark Hammill is a VA in it!)

Broadchurch (David Tennant in his glorious natural accent in a British detective series. Season 1 is amazing, emotionally raw and captivating television. I had a hard time trying to get through Season 2 and actually haven’t finished. But the first season is definitely worth it.)

Frasier (ah, a classic. The later seasons after “the event” aren’t as good but Seasons 1-5 are excellent and the humor is out of this world. Great show and one that stands up to multiple viewings.)

There are other shows I enjoy, like Brooklyn99 and 30Rock that I assume are more well-known on this site, and thus I haven’t included them on this list. I’m also not including the shows I watched that were fine, but I didn’t feel enthusiastic about (Witcher, Jessica Jones are the first two that come to mind). I’m also sure I’m forgetting something or somethings. 

Books! I read too many books. I have no idea how to rec books except in terms of things I’ve read recently (at least, books that aren’t specialized music-academic offerings). Olga Tokarczuk’s writing is fabulous, I highly recommend any of her works. Going older, I read Ralph Ellison’s Invisible Man a few months back and that was superb. Another book I read a while back that stuck with me was Tom Wolfe’s Bonfire of the Vanities. Olivia Laing’s The Lonely City also sticks out as a recent favorite. Neil Gaiman’s American Gods is also great, and to be honest (here comes some heresy), it’s a better book than Good Omens. Since I move a lot, I tend to read books and then give them away, but beyond my Shakespeare, Tintin, and Harry Potter collection, one of the few books that I always carry with me is David Mitchell’s Cloud Atlas, which is a singularly haunting and fascinating novel and I am transfixed every time.

In terms of Star Wars books? That’s pretty easy. Kenobi, Dark Rendezvous, Plagueis, Master and Apprentice, and - pending the conclusion - Thrawn. Shatterpoint was also excellent. There are other SW books I’ve enjoyed, but these have been the easy standouts of the lot.

#Anonymous #hello there #ask legobiwan #recs #of all sorts #i'm totally missing things #especially in bookdom as i tend to blow through books #but the ones i listed are the ones that i still think about #STAY SAFE OUT THERE FRIENDS

[mr-stjames-icon]

Words Fail: Self Para/Starter?

@imcooperanderson​

Jesse laughed softly at her question. “What was I like in High School? God, that takes me back.” He chuckled string his iced tea with his reusable straw. The sound of the ice clinking against the glass filled the air as his smile slowly vanished. He gave a small shrug and shook his head reflecting on his time at Carmel. “I… I wasn’t a nice guy. I had one goal and that was to be the best. Better than anyone else. I joined the best show choir in the country. I rose to the top of the ranks and we won. Year after year and year. We won four consecutive National Titles and it felt… Amazing. To know everyone in that audience is cheering for you? There’s no greater feeling. The rush of going onto stage to belt out those first notes, the way the heat touches your skin from the lights… It’s ecstasy.” He began softly. “You know what was the best? Coming home with that trophy. Showing my folks I did something that awesome. I guess I always felt like I had to prove I was better than who I was to them because I was never really theirs…” He didn’t meet her eye knowing that perhaps she might feel the same. “It was amazing entering school with that trophy. Everyone loved you.  Everyone wanted to take a photo with you and everyone was dying just to be close to you… I thought those times would never end.” Jesse admired his hard work back then, he was proud of almost everything he had done. 

His thoughts turned to Rachel and how he had hurt her. How he had chosen a trophy over a relationship that actually made him feel something back then. He threw it all away for a fourth consecutive National Title. For a first trophy, sure but he had always regretted the actions of his former self. “Okay Sea Monkey, I’m going to go start dinner…” He sat patting her shoulder gently as he hid himself away in the kitchen, 

Jesse looked out of the window of the kitchen and to the garage where Cooper was. Had he been doing that now? Was he still choosing a trophy over love? In his eyes their relationship had always started with a drunk kiss which evolved into so much more. Cooper was the reason Jesse knew he liked dudes. Cooper was the person to make him feel that way Rachel made him feel all those years ago. But there was no trophy this time, at least not one that was obvious to him. 

He had noted his absence of late and his mind couldn’t help but wonder if Cooper did worry he didn’t like him. It was understandable, he was harsh, rash and critical. But that was how he had always been. Carmel demanded the best and there was no room for weakness. It was lessons he had carried with him, even into his adulthood. It had made him a great director and a fantastic actor willing to take on as much feedback as possible. He was tough but only because he cared. 

Jesse turned on the oven and started to busy himself with the food as he reflected further. The fights they had, the arguments, the tears that they had both shed. They had both been through a lot together. The ups and downs, the ugly and the beautiful. Jesse had always found answers in Cooper, answers to questions he didn’t even know he had. He would have never moved back to LA, not after the first time around. The embarrassment of being kicked out of UCLA. The way people talked about him, like he was some kind of idiot, a kid who had a pretty face but nothing upstairs. But here he was. Living in a house and now coaching a new show choir. It was something that a few months ago he would have found absurd. In fact, he had only ever had hopes of living and dying in New York. It was his home but he had come to the realisation that his home wasn’t New York. It wasn’t Broadway and it certainly wasn’t their old apartment. It was Cooper. 

Their family was expanding beyond anything he had ever dreamed. He had Moriah who he loved, of course. But now they had a teenage foster-daughter, a kid that needed a lot of love. Jesse admired that girl beyond anything he would care to admit, even to himself. Ramona would be in foster care still if the two of them hadn’t come along. They would have an empty room filled with meaningless trophies where a bed currently lay. 

It was nice to feel loved. To wake up every morning next to someone and see their face, just knowing that they trusted and loved you was a blessing. Waking up next to Cooper was the best part of his day because he was still by his side. They had both gambled in this life but his best risk had always been that brown eyed boy. Perhaps he had been too harsh in recent times, perhaps the quarantine was to blame or perhaps it was time to let down those walls. Cooper was the man he had decided to propose to. The man who he wanted to give marriage a try with again. He trusted him, didn’t he? 

Of course he did and he knew Cooper trusted him in return. While he had never been good at being emotionally supportive, he appreciated the trust that Cooper had put into him. Perhaps it was time to lower the guard. Jesse opened the fridge and poured himself a glass of wine. He swirled the liquid in the glass and quickly downed it. Would it kill him to be honest with Cooper? 

Jesse lowered the oven’s heat and left the house making his way to the garage. He was about to knock and enter when he stopped himself. Did Cooper even want him here? The two had seemed quiet and indifferent with each other of late and he wasn’t sure why. All he knew was that things had changed. 

He took a step back and looked at the door in front of him contemplating knocking and telling him that he loved him. Deciding the best way to tell him how much he truly loved him. More than anything. But that voice was being pulled down back into his throat by the tiny hands of the devils from years long ago. 

Jesse ran a hand through his hair as the words ‘man up St James’ flooded his head. ‘Pull yourself together. We can’t win this with you being emotional.’ He brushed a tear from his eyes and kicked a nearby bush cursing under his breath. Why couldn’t he do this? Did he even need to do this or was it all in his head? 

That was when an idea struck him. Jesse rushed back into the house and found Ramona still on the sofa where he had left her. “Ramona, I need your help.” He grinned happily in his checkered navy shirt. 

*

It took a lot of doing to keep Cooper out of the house, a lot of convincing and a lot of distraction, but the two had managed to do it. Jesse had turned the living room into their own personal fort filled with all the nerdy shit he loved. There was printed posters of Star Wars on the walls, black curtains with cut out stars placed around the blanket walls of the fort and candles safely lit to provide that natural glow of life within the fort. He sprayed soft vanilla around the room and selected Disney + on the TV apps. He loaded up the first Star Wars movie and finally, he headed out to Cooper. 

Jesse knocked and only when he was told to enter did he do so. “Okay, so here’s the thing: Doofus. I love you and I know you’re not an idiot. Myself and Sea Monkey have deliberately been keeping you out of the house today and that’s because I have a surprise for you. 

He took his hands softly in his and led him into the living room to show off their handy work. The Star Wars theme was playing in the background courtesy of their digital assistant and Ramona stood proudly by their homely fort wearing her hair in Leia’s signature buns. 

“You tell anyone I did this and I’ll kick you in the nads.” She teased lightly as she admired their handy work on her hair. 

Jesse took both of Cooper’s hands in his and looked at him. “I know I’m hard on you sometimes and I’m sorry. I think I’ve been a little too mean on you recently and I’m sorry… God, this is killing me to say that word so many times in such a short time…” He paused. “I’m sorry for that comment. But right now, I want you to forget about anything other than Luke Skywalker finding out he’s a jedi. Going to fight Darth Vadar on the Death Star to rescue Princess Leia and meet Han Solo and the carpet. I haven’t been honest with you Cooper. I watched all those dumb movies the day you told me that you were cast in Mandalorian. I support you in everything you do and I want for you, right now to join us in a family film night watching the first movie. Well, technically we’ll be watching the fourth movie in the series but the first to be released into the world. Did you know originally it was going to be called Blue Harvest and that it was only ever called Star Wars not Star Wars: A New Hope?” He clicked his tongue proudly. “That’s right, I did my research.” He turned to Ramona mouthing; “Did I get that right?!” Only for her to shrug. 

“Pizza is on the way, I made sure to order your favourite, plus there’s a cold bottle in the fridge with your name on it. We can’t go out for date night so baby, I brought date night to you. Will you be my date?” He asked innocently. 

#self para #thread #thread: cooper #1704 words #my wrist hurts and its 430am

[blurglesmurfklaine]

Mixed Signals

Summary: Blaine Anderson is the new transfer at McKinley High. He quickly becomes fast friends with Kurt Hummel—Glee Club diva, straight A student, Cheerio extraordinaire. He plans to win his heart, but there’s just one problem: he can’t make heads or tails of Kurt’s personality, as it seems to change every hour or so...

A/N: So uh, I don’t really know what this is I haven’t written anything in literal years and I just popped this trash baby out so... yeah enjoy

* Blaine follows his new show choir director into the choir room, which he notes is significantly less grandeur than the one at Dalton, but he digressed. McKinley was supposed to be a new start and although leaving Dalton isn’t something he was ever too keen about, he knows he has to try and find the silver lining of it all, at least for his parents’ sakes.

Said silver lining presents itself in the form of a pale skinned, blue eyed boy wearing a cheerleading uniform who caught Blaine’s eye as he took center stage of the room to introduce himself. “Hello everyone,” he waves to the eclectic group of students with one hand and keeps the other safely in his pocket. “I’m Blaine Anderson. I just transferred here from Dalton Academy.”

It seems he has unnamed male Cheerio’s attention, he can practically feel the boy’s gaze quickly traveling up and down his entire body, as if assessing him. “Let’s all give Blaine a warm welcome,” says the teacher—Mr. Shue, he remembered. He gestures to the chairs in front of them as the thirteen other members applauded. “Take a seat wherever you’d like.” It doesn’t m take long for him to make his way towards the empty seat next to Cheerio boy and claim it. It also doesn’t take long for the rest of the New Directions to exchange a multitude of glances that range from surprised to suggestive to sly.

The boy offers Blaine a hand and an almost bashful smile. “My name’s Kurt,” he introduced himself. “Kurt Hummel.” After fifty minutes of solos, rehearsing, and casual chatter, Blaine is definitely intrigued by Kurt, to say the least. He learns that Kurt and Finn are step brothers after the latter had come up to him and asked what they were having for dinner. “Oh, you two are dating?” Blaine had asked, not so smoothly and unable to keep his interest discreet despite his best efforts. This caused the tallest of them all to laugh heartily, throwing his head back. “No, we’re brothers. Kurt’s dad married my mom. I used to be kind of a dick, but our brotherhood kind of changed that. Did you know that grilled cheesus never said anything about gay people—“ Finn goes on for several more minutes about all he’s learned about gay rights in support of his brother, and Kurt watches and listens with equal parts pride and amusement. Not everything he says is entirely accurate, but neither Kurt nor Blaine have the heart to tell him that. Instead, they just exchange bemused glances every time it happens and let the leader of the New Directions continue on, blissfully ignorant. The bell finally dismisses them, and before Blaine leaves, his new friend is practically bouncing over to him. Blaine notes the hopeful look on his face as he gnawed on his bottom lip nervously. “I know this might be a little forward, but,” he reaches out and pulled his arm towards him, rucking up Blaine’s sleeve. He tries to stay calm as he watches the purple pen move furiously, scrawling out seven digits on Blaine’s forearm. “We should hang out.” He can’t keep the smile off his face. “We should.” * The next time Blaine sees Kurt, he’s changed out of his Cheerio’s uniform and opted for a subdued gray tee shirt paired with a blue hoodie. He can’t say he’s not surprised at the disconnect between Kurt’s effervescent personality and muted fashion sense, but he’s excited to share calculus with him nonetheless. He throws his hand up in a friendly wave towards the boy and is slightly confused when he receives nothing more but an angrily puzzled glare in return. Offset, but not entirely discouraged, he sits right behind him. The lesson continues and Blaine is taking immaculate and thorough notes about the square root of negative integers when Kurt bursts out in disbelief. “Woah, woah, there are imaginary numbers now?” He scoffs, and Blaine is startled at how much lower his voice is. “Are there unicorns in the next lesson?” “Mr. Hummel,” the teacher scolds, folding his arms. “Are we going to need another chat with principal Figgins?” “No but we might need one with the people in charge of educating the nation’s youth.” He mutters. Blaine is absolutely floored at the jarring contrast between the Kurt he met two periods ago and the one sitting in front of him right now. Still, he doesn’t want his new friend to get into trouble, so he places a gentle hand on his shoulder, earning a flinch from the other boy. He whips around to face Blaine. “What?” He hisses. “Nothing, I just... don’t want you to get into trouble.” He admits.

He looks at Blaine like he’s never seen him before this moment, absolutely bewildered. “Thanks,” he says, not an ounce of actual gratitude in his voice. “But I can handle myself just fine.” And he turns back around to face the board. Blaine sits there, stirring in his confusion. He hadn’t know Kurt could be so... abrasive. At least, not based on his interactions with him earlier that day. He brushes it off with a shake of his head. Maybe he was just having a bad day. He’s sure it’s a one time thing. * It’s not a one time thing. Blaine slowly realizes over the course of more than a few days, that it’s an actually very regular occurrence. And normally, this would be the sort of thing that makes Blaine run for the hills, but the fifty-percent of the time Kurt is being his normal optimistic self (he quickly thinks, what if he just assumes that’s Kurt’s default personality because it’s the first one he met, but he pushes the thought aside) he is really into him. He hasn’t been this into a guy since... well, ever. He’s seen Kurt stand up to several jerks with comebacks that had the power behind them to instantly disintegrate anyone who dared to try and shoot any homophobia in his direction. He isn’t used to this kind of bravery, mostly because it wasn’t needed at Dalton, but here it definitely is, and Blaine admires courage like that. Kurt was there when he had first gotten slushied, willing and more than prepared with all the needed grooming supplies to help get the sticky sweet ice out of Blaine’s unfortunate hair. They had even sung a few—admittedly flirty—duets for their glee club assignments. That was the Kurt he liked. But he’s also seen Kurt crumple up the cute note he’d left for him on his desk and immediately toss it into the wastebasket. He’s seen him mock fellow Cheerios when he’s not in uniform with “Two, four, six, eight! Heard you like to fornicate!” and a sarcastic grin. But what he can’t fathom is how Kurt from glee club, who never fails to ask “Mr. Shue, may I?” ever so politely, and Kurt from history, who refers to Bill Clinton as “came-a-lot”, are the same person. He’s made serval mental notes to help him unravel the enigma that was Kurt Hummel, dividing the two versions of him into “Glee Kurt” and “Calculus Kurt”. Glee Kurt likes to talk, likes to learn everything he can about Blaine. So he tells him everything from piano lessons at age four, to his annoying older brother Cooper. He also likes little intimate touches—a hand on the thigh after a good joke, the grazing of each other’s hands, leaning into each other’s shoulders. Blaine never complains about this, if anything, he encourages it by reciprocating every sign of interest Kurt shows, especially since they’re gone just as easily as they come. Calculus Kurt speaks in a lower register than Glee Kurt, and after trying to reach for his hand during the few minutes before class and earning an outraged swat in return, Blaine’s learned to practically avoid any contact with him at all during that class, whether it be verbal or physical. He only steps in when he thinks Kurt’s snide remarks might get him into too much trouble. It’s confusing, to say the least, but Blaine Anderson is not a quitter. * “God my brother is driving me crazy,” Kurt moans as Blaine walks him down the hallway. Blaine chuckles, unable to imagine what Finn could have possibly done this time. “Was his late-night Call Of Duty tournament keeping you up too late?” Kurt looks puzzled. “He doesn’t play Call Of Duty,” he replies. Blaine’s forehead creases in confusion because he’s sure he’s heard Finn boast about his marathons on that video game on more than one occasion. “No, his laptop died and he refused to give me back mine so he could work on his journalism project.“ Blaine had no idea that Finn was so passionate about writing, but he supposes Kurt knows his own brother better than he does. * It takes a few weeks, but Blaine finally figures it out. It’s the Cheerios uniform.

He’s been sheltered by all those years at Dalton, so when he came to McKinley he didn’t understand right away, but now he does. Status is everything to the kids at this school and if you’re wearing a Letterman jacket or a Cheerios uniform, nobody’s going to screw with you.

But if you’re not... well, Blaine is certain that Kurt’s built up walls of his own to protect himself from the idiots like Azimio and Langanthal when he doesn’t have the Cheerios uniform to do it for him.

It’s the only logical explanation.

At least it is until he walks into the choir room and Kurt is wearing black jeans with a bright yellow raincoat.

“Wow,” Blaine greets him, mostly out of surprise from how different this outfit is from Kurt’s normal wardrobe. “Do you like it?” Kurt takes his usual seat next to Blaine.

“I-I think it’s great,” Blaine stammers, hating how hard it is to make heads or tails of the boy sitting next to him. “It’s just so different from your usual get up.” “I know.” Kurt chortles. “Sue had them sent out for dry cleaning, so we get to freestyle dress today.” So, Blaine supposes, it’s not the Cheerios uniform. * Blaine sighs as he walks into calculus. This is a bad idea. He knows it’s a really bad idea because Kurt is always in a bad mood for this class, but he doesn’t care. He’s hoping that if he can get Kurt to act like his normal self now, he can do it indefinitely and he won’t have to worry about it anymore. He takes a steadying breath and walks right up to him. “I usually know to wait until you’re out of this class, but I can’t take it anymore. Will you go to dinner with me?” Kurt looks up at him like he’s the dumbest creature on earth. It stings. “Sorry,” Kurt spits without an ounce of remorse in his voice. “I’m not gay, but if I were, I don’t think you’d be my type.” Blaine feels like he’s been punched in the gut. His hurt quickly morphs into anger and he retorts back, “You know, I get that you’re capricious, but I never took you for a coward,” before pushing past him and taking a seat in the very back of the class. He doesn’t see confounded look on the other boy’s face and doesn’t hear him whisper, “What the fuck,” to himself. * The situation gets a hundred times more confusing when Kurt comes up to him in the hallway a few days later. “Hey!” He calls out to Blaine. Blaine tenses. He so does not want to have this conversation right now, and certainly not in the middle of the hallway. He keeps walking, keeps avoiding Kurt. “I am talking to you!” Kurt finally catches up with him and grabs him by the shoulder to force Blaine to face him. “You’ve been avoiding me for days and I want to know why!” Blaine is dumbfounded. “Look, Kurt,” he scoffs. “If I had known you were still in the closet, I would’ve probably backed off. But you came onto me! I get not being ready to come out, but I really like you and I don’t know how much longer–hmph!” Before he knows what’s happening, Kurt is pulling on the front of Blaine’s jacket, bringing their faces together. And it’s... nice. It’s really nice. The pressure of Kurt’s mouth against his own is warm and even, and for a moment Blaine forgets all the crazy that seems to revolve around Kurt Hummel because all he can think about is the world of possibilities this kiss is opening up. Kurt pulls away, leaving him in a daze. “Would someone who’s in the closet do that?” “I guess not.” Blaine responds airily, head still spinning. * When Blaine sees Kurt at the end of that day, shoving some books into his locker, he can’t keep his stupid grin off his face. Blaine comes up behind him and grabs his waist playfully, spinning his around. “I’ve been wanting to do this all day.” He says before pulling them together. If he’s being honest... it’s not very good. He can feel Kurt grimace and tense up by the time their lips meet, and he’s about to pull away and ask what’s wrong before Kurt beats him to the punch. He shoves Blaine’s chest, splitting them asunder. “What the fuck was that?” Blaine can see that Kurt is absolutely seething. “I just thought- after earlier today—” “In case I haven’t been very clear before, I’m gonna be completely transparent now,” he fumes. “I never want to see your face again. Stay the hell away from me!” Blaine watches in a melting pot of emotions as Kurt turns around and all but sprints away from him. What the hell was that all about? * Blaine knocks on the Hudson-Hummel household door vigorously. He knows Kurt told him to stay the hell away from him, but his stubborn frustration tells him they are going to talk about this god dammit. The door opens and Finn can barely get out a friendly greeting before Blaine busts pats him. “Where’s your brother?” He demands. “Uh, which one?” “Don’t play dumb, Finn!” The taller boy only looks at him expectantly. “Kurt!” Finn sees the look in Blaine’s eyes and knows he’s searching for some kind of answer, probably one he can’t give him. “Uh, Kurt!” He calls. “Your boyfriend’s here and he looks kinda pissed off.” Kurt comes down the stairs, face lighting up when he sees Blaine. “Hey—“ he starts, but Blaine wastes no time getting to the point. “Are we gonna talk about that kiss or not?” “What?” “I should go.” Finn points out uncomfortably. “I thought it was nice, right?” “It-it was not nice.” Blaine exhales. “You said you didn’t want to see me again.” “Am I missing something here?” “I have no idea why I’m still here.” “I’m getting a lot of mixed signals from you, Kurt!” Blaine finally explodes. “In glee club all you want to do is flirt and hold hands and banter which I am all for, believe me! But then in calculus you seem like you want nothing to do with me!” “Calculus?” Kurt’s face twists up in a lack of understanding. “We don’t have that class together. I don’t even take calculus, I’m in statistics—“ And then it hits him. He doesn’t take calculus, but there’s one person he knows who does. “CARSON!” Kurt screeches so loudly that even Blaine, seething just a moment ago, is startled. Blaine hears another set of footsteps rush down the stairs accompanied by a familiar voice. “I swear to god if you called me down here while I’m in the middle of editing my college entrance essay to tell me how unflattering my wardrobe is again I’m gonna—“ The boy stops dead in his tracks when he sees Blaine, and Blaine blanches. “Oh, my god.” He mumbles. Standing in front of him is an exact replica of Kurt, wearing the same blue jacket he’d always donned in calculus. He looks at Kurt, then back at—Carson. It all makes so much sense. Kurt didn’t have a dual personality, Blaine was just an idiot. Twins. Fucking twins. “Oh, my god,” Carson says, turning to Finn and Kurt. “It’s that weirdo I was telling you about!” “Wait, this is the creepy guy who has a crush on you?” Kurt asks in bewilderment. “I thought you were just expressing your closeted homophobia a la Finn circa sophomore year?” “Oh,” Finn rolls his eyes. “You just have to bring that up again.” “You know I’m not homophobic,” Carson retorts, ignoring his stepbrother. “This is that guy that gave me that note, asked me out, then kissed me without warning!” “You kissed Carson?” Kurt and Finn ask in unison. “I thought he was you!” Blaine defends himself. “For a month?” Carson asks, unconvinced. He scoffs. “Convenient.” “Don’t flatter yourself,” Kurt growls back at him. “Dude,” Finn interjects, voice beginning to bubble up with laughter. “They look nothing alike.” “Finn, they are literally identical twins!” “What, did you just think Kurt was really fickle?” Carson asks incredulously. Blaine opens his mouth to respond but snaps it shut immediately because even though he now realizes how utterly absurd that sounds, it’s exactly what he thought. “Oh, my god.” Finn, Kurt, and Carson all chorus in realization. The horror of the situation dawns on Blaine and a white-hot embarrassment starts burning in the pit of his stomach. “I have to go.” He says, eyes wide as he turns to leave. Kurt grabs his hand. “What? You don’t have to leave,” he explains. Blaine shakes his head incredulously. “You’re not done with me? After all that?” “Of course not!” He laughs as if it’s the craziest thing he’s ever heard. “Do I think you can be a little ridiculously oblivious? Of course. But I really like you, Blaine. Besides, this will make a great story one day.” From behind them, Carson rolls his eyes. “Can I fucking go now?” Kurt shoots his brother a glare then immediately turns his attention back to Blaine. “But if you ever kiss my brother again, we’re through.” Blaine lets his head fall forward and huffs out a laugh. “Deal.” 

#klaine #glee #wow look at me im writing! #im honestly so nervous to post this bc i know it came out shitty #and i havent written in forever #just like #ugh #idk why im so nervous lol #ive posted much worse shit on here #sbl #glee/sbl

[ethereal---spirits]

For about a month I had posted on Twitter some translations from the interview with MALICE MIZER that was in Rock and Read 083. Since it would take a lot of time and work to make the whole interview readable to everyone, and because I am not a trained translator nor do I get paid to do this, I decided not to put the whole interview online, but to share some of the more interesting quotes. I’ve decided to put those quotes here, along with a little more. The formatting is the way it is because there were tweets with that character limitation, since I was doing one tweet a day. So here is a bit from the Rock and Read interview with Közi, Mana and Yu~ki. 

Közi: (on the R&R magazine cover) "I was surprised. (Hmm, why this timing !?) Last year, I did a 25th anniversary live and it will be released on DVD, but it wasn't like I was (with a revival!)."

What influenced Deep Sanctuary VI? Mana: "To put it in a nutshell, I played the MALICE MIZER "au revoir" instrumental at the finale (of DSV). Then Közi says "Motto". . .Then there was a great chorus of (Au Revoir) from there.

Közi: “The live is over, and three of me, Mana and Yu~ki are on the stage for a curtain call. Just when it was time to go back and forth, the background music of (Au Revoir) flowed. At that time, there was a microphone in front of me. Then I suddenly said “Motto (more)”, got off the stage and then that great choir happened.

Mana: “As Közi said, it was not a preparation, it was a coincidence.

Yu~ki: “Everybody sings (Au Revoir), l listened on the side, together, three people. . . . It was certain that warm feelings had started to grow at that time. When I said (I want to meet everyone's expectations), I felt that the feeling was OK. It was a suggestion from Mana-chan, that was the basis for more, but there was no reason to refuse it (that's right).”

Yu~ki: “How to make new things, I think that (leader) Mana had professional ideas. But Mana told me "Közi and Yu~ki, you are fine artists. Do what you want to do."

R&R: "Was your idea Yu~ki to fly in the air at the Shibuya Public Hall performance just before the major debut?"

Yu~ki: "That's right. I was also in charge of theater, so I made a lot of effort in directing."

Regarding self-production in the 90's Mana: "I had never thought of getting someone to pull me on (label or such). I was developing activities by being able to complete by myself, so I was able to go alone with them by myself."

About what MALICE MIZER was able to complete by themselves and their communication with each other Yu~ki: "I think the relationship between the members was good. We went to eat curry often." Közi: "Clam ramen and so on."

Mana: "I did not lock the house I lived at that time, so some members came in and out. It was a time when there were no mobile phones, so I came in without a foreboding. Roadies also came well. KAMIJO talked about it at DSVI MC, all roadies lived within 5 minutes of my house." Mana: "I can't think right now (lol). The members came on their own, there was no shelter and there was no privateness, like it was their own home. It wasn't too large for a 1K room, and I was impressed that I had lived like that." Közi: "...It was a octopus room (lol).

R & R on Mana's apartment: "Even though the decor is Gothic and decorative, it was not an elegant life (lol). Mana:"It was not. It can be said that everyone gathered around one kotatsu." Yu~ki: "(imagewise) Can you say kotatsu?" Mana ". . . (lol)"

About Deep Sanctuary VI Mana: "This time, I wanted to reproduce the (active) time as much as possible." Yu~ki: "This time, there was a direction of (festival) as a major premise. I wanted to make it a stage that everyone can enjoy, even for those who have never seen MALICE MIZER"

R&R: "In terms of reproduction, Sakura was the only image of Kami." Közi: "I was completely haunted." Yu~ki: "I was surprised at the time of rehearsal.... He put the orange hair extension and wore the cap backwards as well, as Kami did it. That was Sakura-kun."

On how Sakura must have researched Kami's appearance and playing style Mana: I think maybe. I didn't ask for something (we want it this way) for us. There were a lot of suggestions from Sakura, and for example, the chorus mic. He said that he wanted to reproduce the way of Kami

On Kami's drum kit being used for DSVI Közi: The drum settings and tuning were completely the same as Kami. Mana: We also used the drum set from Kami. Közi: That's right. The drums were taken (from Ibaraki). I went to Kami's alma mater to borrow them.

About what Sakura said about Kami at DSVI Yu~ki: "...I didn't know that those two men had such a deep love of brother and brother, and I was not able to measure how much thought Sakura had put into the songs. I was able to play comfortably just because I really appreciated it." Közi "...Sakura's love for Kami is really great. I think that I was really looking at that kind of awareness. It was also a suggestion from Sakura to post an article on Pearl's homepage and to make a Kami drumstick and put it for sale. And in fact, moved it towards realization."

R & R: "What did you not do? Did you ever think about it?" Yu~ki: "As former director, I have a unique world view of MALICE MIZER. There is a feeling that I wanted to show. I wanted to fly and fly (lol)." Közi: "You will fly away from the stage. (Thank you!) What? (lol)."

On the MALICE MIZER 25th Anniversary Deep Sanctuary VI and Yu~ki not getting to fly   Yu~ki: "But this time it was just a festival. It was a direction of having roadies sing and having fun playing old songs."

R & R: "The MC of Kozi and Yu~ki was also surprising. At that time (in the past), non-vocal members had little talking on the stage." Yu~ki: "There was a struggle, but it's a festival (lol)." Közi: "It was hard! We talked about doing our best (lol)!" Yu~ki: "I think the roadies also spoke well, even though I have my current position." Közi: "You prepared a lot of episodes. But one thing I thought was that the roadies were speaking of good episodes of Mana and Yu~ki. Even though with me, there were no good stories (lol)."

About the MALICE MIZER 25th Anniversary Deep Sanctuary VI roadies' MCs Mana: "I think it was good because I could hear quite a few secret stories that only the roadies knew. I did not ask what they would talk about in advance."

R&R: "Different stories appeared for the two days. It was not informed in advance what kind of episodes would come out?" Mana: "Yes. So, I also heard many for the first time, there were a lot of surprises during the shows."

About filming the MALICE MIZER DSVI DVD Mana: "The design on the final day was almost untouched, but in fact the video shot is only on the final day. I had no plan to film, so on the first day I didn't make room for the camera. I mean, I really didn't want to have two days."

Why only one night Mana: "I wanted to make it a one night legend. After all, when it comes to two days, the contents you did on the first day will be spoiled (for the second day). Because of that (25th anniversary overnight shock), I felt strongly that I wanted to do one night."

Why add a second night? Mana: "However, I heard that many people were drawn to the lottery, so I did it for two days. As a result, it was good to do it for two days. Many people came from afar."

R&R: "There were also customers from overseas. Have you made any changes from the configuration you originally thought by having two days?" Mana: "At first, (Ma Cherie) was not planned."

Mana: "In fact, it was planned to end with (Au Revoir) that I did before (Ma Cherie). Two years ago, the audience moved in response to the excitement of the chorus of (Au Revoir), so I was thinking of closing with (Au Revoir). At first, I thought that it would also be singing."

Mana:  "The day I entered the studio with Kozi and Sakura, while aligning the sequence and checking for problems, I put together songs one after another. At that time, there was no (video) image that the song could enter (Au Revoir). So I quickly decided to make it vocal-less."

Mana: “With (Au Revoir), we might have streamed a live video at the Yokohama Arena on the back screen. At first it was not on the schedule. If you watched Közi and Sakura playing in a rehearsal, I really want to link a special song for us (Au Revoir) with Kami. So, I thought that I wanted to synchronize the live performance with the video that Kami was playing at the Yokohama Arena. Then the production side is...When synchronizing sound and video, the originally planned time changes... However, the result (playing Au Revoir with no singer) worked well, and I thought it was good to have that direction.” 

I hope to have a little more tomorrow. The talk about the future that I did not put on Twitter.

#malice mizer #rock and read #kozi #mana #mana-sama #yu~ki #jrock #visual kei #gothic rock #music interview

[tending-the-hearth]

my decade highlights/important moments

2010: I joined an all-girls choir group in fifth grade that saved my life. The bullying at my school was at it’s highest, and if I hadn’t made friends outside of my classmates, I would have most likely taken my own life at the end of the school year. I’m grateful every day for that choir.

2011: I started to read “The Heroes of Olympus” series, which rekindled my love of Percy Jackson, and which also provided me with another way to escape my bullies. This was also the year that I began to write.

2012: The Sandy Hook shooting happened, which happened only 30 minutes away from my own elementary school. That moment, while we were in lockdown, I just remember being confused and wondering as to what was going on. That night I sat on the couch with my mother as we both cried over the news.  

2013: I was accepted into my high school during Christmas break, and I realized that I would finally be able to escape from the people who had been bullying me for the past six years. 

2014: For the final few months of middle school, the bullying finally stopped. I started to write fanfiction in January, and in September, I went to my first day of high school and met some of my best friends in the entire world. I also was able to see Kara Lindsay as Glinda in Wicked on Broadway.

2015: I began to fall in love with Broadway, and I found a new outlet for my creativity through the musicals at my high school and my brother’s high school. Over the summer, I also reconnected with one of my friends that I had lost touch with when my family moved in 2007. 

2016: I got to perform in my favorite musical, I was able to go see Aladdin on Broadway, and I also was able to see Jessica Vosk in Wicked, and I cried for the first time at a show because that was the moment that I could see myself possibly performing on a big stage one day. 

2017: I was accepted into my top college and I got to see Anastasia on Broadway. I got passed over by my director in favor of a junior for my senior show, and I struggled a lot in school as I kept my grades up both as a senior and a junior. 

2018: I graduated high school, and I got to see Come From Away on Broadway. “Prayer” in Come From Away has the Prayer to St. Francis as one of the major parts of the song. That prayer was my great grandfather’s favorite song, and he passed away a few weeks after I went to see the musical. Now, I have a way to always remember him because of that song. 

2019: I fell in love with Cats, and I’ve met some absolutely amazing people because of that musical. The biggest thing for me this year was that, five years after leaving the toxic environment that was my middle school class, I finally went to therapy and have been getting help for the trauma that was caused all those years ago. I’m finally getting help, and I’m finally starting to feel like me again. 

Here’s to 2020 and the new decade!

#2020 #happy new year my dudes #make it a great one

[imwithmars]

Flaunt Magazine 2004 interview

David Fincher – “It goes kind of like, ‘How   can you tell when Jared is lying? His lips are moving.’”

Rock & Roles –

Flaunt Magazine, by Shari Roman

December 2004

“This is fantastic,” murmurs Jared Leto as the relentless Moroccan   sun sears destiny into his bronzed, bare skin. He is sweating under his tight  armor. His dark horse, Mateo, quivers beneath him and paws the ground nervously. A signal is given.

Leto howls a great animalistic yowl straight from his belly to the ears of   the gods. There is another howl, then another. Thousands of voices fuse into   one animal cry. A legion of alpha males surges forward to meet the enemy, Leto,   blond hair hair streaming past his shoulders, muscular thighs gripped bareback   on his galloping horse, rides hard into the thick of a bloody combat. His sword   cuts through all who oppose him.

This is the filming of Oliver Stone’s Alexander and the legendary battle of   Gaugamela, Alexander’s greatest victory over the Persians - a turning point   in his conquest of the known world. Stone’s sweeping historical saga charts   the life and the legend of one of the greatest figures in world history. The   story is an epic that is a daring and ambitious as its subject, a relentless   conqueror who, by the age of 32, had amassed the greatest empire the world hade   ever seen.

Through the clouds of dust, Leto can see Colin Farrell as Alexander the Great,   his massive blade slicing into flesh and sinew. There is the director, Oliver   Stone, shouting, moving rapidly behind the camera line. There are hordes of   men bellowing, bleeding, bodies everywhere. On the fringes lurks famed military   trainer and Stone cohort, Captain Dale Dye. Today, the Captain isn’t wearing   his favorite T-shirt emblazoned with the motto: “Pain is weakness leaving   the body,” but Leto needs no reminders.

Leto has always propelled himself into physical extremes to live inside a character.   As the champion runner Steve Prefontaine, he bled his feet to the bone. In the   drug-fueled Requiem For A Dream, he reportedly swore off sex (with then girlfriend,   Cameron Diaz) and lost 28 pounds to play a junky. Then there was Fight Club   (he’d been recommended for the part his friend, fellow pretty boy, Brad Pitt.),   in which he begged to have his angelic face beaten to a pulp by a jealous Ed   Norton to prove his fealty. Suffering, pain, causality, creation through transformation.   Leto has pledged himself above and beyond to those epithets years ago.

“Killing people face to face for a living, that was their job,” explains   a laidback Leto a few months later from a low-key restaurant in Southern California.   It’s early afternoon. His clothing is relaxed and he looks pleasantly tired.

“It’s not jet lag. I’m over that. I just couldn’t sleep.” It’s not   due to time spent with his (purported) new, luscious It-girl Scarlett Johansson.   He’s been concentrating on working on some new songs for his band, 30 Seconds   To Mars, taking meetings between rehearsals before he heads off to New York   and South Africa for three months to play another aggressor of sorts - an arms   dealer - in the film Lord of War, with Nicolas Cage and director Andrew Niccol   (Gattaca).

He is still pretty tan, making those pioneering blue eyes even more startling.   His long, blonde warrior-god locks are gone now, dyed and clipped into a light   brown Erik Estrada-style shag for the new movie. But there is still a trace   of the Irish lilt he took on for Alexander. (Aside from gearing it toward Farrell’s   natural tones, Stone’s rationale for the accent was that historically, the Macedonians   were to the Greeks what the Irish have been to the English.) Most of the 15   pounds of muscle weight that he strapped on for the six-month shoot has slipped   from his slim frame. Even so, the intensity of that experience is still on his   mind and in his body.

“The film has plenty of f***ing and fighting and killing and death and   blood. My job was to murder people and stand by Alexander.” who, according   to history, was his best friend since childhood, and his lover.

“Hephaestion, the character I play, and [Alexander] have a really special   connection. It’s a strong, strong relationship. I don’t think there is a term   we have today to define their relationship,” he says, deliberately muddling   around the oft-asked erotic question.

Farrell says, “There was no term for 'bisexuality’. It was just the way   society was. People made love to men and women. It was only later on you had   to pick one side of the fence.”

“But I promise you, in the film,” Leto teases, despite the magnetic   charms of Farrell, and costars Rosario Dawson and Angelina Jolie, who play Alexander’s   wife and mother, “the only kiss I gave out was to my horse. My one true   love.”

He takes the tape recorder and places it gently against his chest, which holds   within it the soul of a man who many have tried to reveal before. “I always   tell the truth. What else do you want to know? What do people really want to   know? What is the truth?” His face is a pure cheeky choir boy dare. “When   have I ever not told you the truth? How can you tell that I’m lying?”

I remind him that the last time we met, he told me he owned three Uzis, that   the first girl he kissed was a 47-year-old tranny named Jorge, that he was 19,   raised by circus performers, and that he studied art at the American University   of Paris for a semester, but was booted out when he wouldn’t give in to the   attentions of the headmaster. And he wouldn’t back down to any of those “facts”.

He laughs. “Really? As Ronald Regan used to say, 'I have no memory of   saying such things.’ ”

Says producer/director David Fincher, who worked with Leto on both Fight Club  and Panic Room, “When it comes to his acting, he is beyond method. He gets  into this whole image of his character. It is interesting how that kind of pain and sacrifice can translate. I mean, look at Requiem. I wish I had 100 Jareds   working for me. He was amazing.

"Jared definitely strives not to be a victim of his genetics. On the films   we did together, he was the guy who is constantly curious, the one you couldn’t bottle up. The one who wouldn’t hit his mark. He was like, 'Hey, I’m living it! Over here!’ But he does like to tell stories. It goes kind of like, 'How can you tell when Jared is lying? His lips are moving.’ ”

Leto, who prefers to see his playful fibbing as a way to keep his private life   private, was born the day after Christmas, 33 years ago, in Bossier City, Louisiana. His mother was an artistic soul, and with his father out of the picture, he and his brother, Shannon (who is also in 30 Seconds To Mars), traveled a great deal while they were growing up. After a stint at New York’s School of Visual Arts, he says, he came to Los Angeles around 12 years ago with a couple hundred bucks in his pocket, no friends, and nowhere to stay. For awhile, he slept on Venice Beach. Then kaboom! a role on television’s My So-Called Life (opposite Claire Daines) and for the next few years, he reigned as a teen pinup - a tag   and a look he has been successfully living down ever since.

According to Leto, “Luck is the residue of destiny.” It’s a phrase   he’s heard which he likes very much. He feels it means that we can get caught up in so many things, but the world has what it has for us. That, in our natural state, everything is the way it’s supposed to be - free and joyous - and that our own insecurities get in the way of all that. It’s an idea which could be   applied to his early life.

“When I was young, all that traveling was exciting,” says Leto. “You   do develop an ability to read people more quickly. You have to learn to adapt to whatever comes along, to survive. Maybe the way I grew up is why I’m drawn to acting, to different characters. From film to film, I’m constantly finding myself, reaching different places outside and inside myself. I want to change, to morph into something else.” To be able to do that for Oliver Stone is a gift, says Leto. “He is one of my f***ing heroes. He is a great man. Present, connected, very physical. I find his way very endearing.”

To work with Stone, he traveled to Morocco, where the oncoming sunset had turned the world orange, into the color of dark rust. But the sky was growing dark, the golden scorpions were scuttling under the rocks, another sandstorm was moving toward the camp, fast.

Within moments, Leto, wearing his usual training gear - a T-shirt, tight shorts,   boots covering his calves - couldn’t see two feet ahead of him. The sand whipped raw against his skin as he made for his tent. Inside, he tightened the flap and listened to the wind howl. He had switched off his cell phone, his e-mail. He hadn’t spoken to anyone in the U.S. for months. Apocalyptic fantasies crowded his brain. Many in the cast had already been horribly sick. There was a virus in the dust. His tent was next door to the latrine and he could hear cast and crew heave by the dozens.

One night, Leto got so sick, he thought he was going to toss a spleen.“I lay in bed for a couple of hours staring at the stars, just breathing really   slow, willing it away. I fell asleep dreaming strange, surreal dreams. When   I woke up, it was gone. That’s the desert.”

Says Dawson, “It was beyond primal, all those men bonding - horse training,   fighting, all buffed up wearing nearly nothing. And as soon as a woman came   on set, the energy was so damn erotic.

"One time Jared came to visit the hotel [where women stayed]. He was so   happy to be there. He got to take a shower, have some proper food.So he’s talking, sitting there, and just sort of adjusting the package, not sexually, but in   this slow, languorous way, like there was no one else around.It was all suited   to his character, but I was like, 'Hey dude…’

"And he was like, 'I’m sorry! We’re out there in our underwear and boots   all the time… maybe it’s got us a little too relaxed.’ Maybe. But it was all   good.” She bats her eyes.“It was wonderful being around that kind of really masculine environment.”

“Oh, Rosario,” responds Leto, “she is so beautiful. Such a great   woman.” He drops his head, smiling, not exactly asking for forgiveness.“Working on Alexander was an amazing experience. It’s all about connectivity. There is an old saying that the greatest leader is the servant of them all. Meaning, you are the most powerful when you are giving.”

“I think that as an artist, in any kind of expression of creation, that   you must have to be in love with the process. It is the most exciting part of the work, and that if you have a desire for greatness, you will have to be willing to f***ing bleed. I think it’s true for me.That’s what drives me.”

He claps his hands over his face. “F***. People are going to read this   and think, 'What the f***? Is weirdo Leto on crack? Hitting the old acid tab again.’ But honestly, it’s what I believe. One of my favorite things about getting older is that my intuition is often wrong.To me, it means I’m uncovering something   new about the world.

#flaunt magazine #jared leto #2004 #interview #did i ever post this? #he used to give great and funny interviews

[fics-for-my-heart]

Art and Drama

Summary: Everyone can see it but the two of you.

Word count: 4512

Warning: Swearing, awful writing

A/N: This kinda sicks. Half way through I had some awful writers block but I still wanted to post it. This was for the Teacher prompt/idea thing I posted (here). Hope your guys enjoy.

Masterlist

 “Class, don’t forget that we have the field trip to Road Art tomorrow. Please remember to bring a lunch. I’ll send reminder messages tonight. Does anyone have any questions?” You scanned the faces of the class in front of you waiting for a hand. “Alright. Well, work on your projects till class is over. We will meet out front at first bell tomorrow.”

  All the Arts and Humanities teachers had decided on a field trip to a traveling art exhibit that was stopping at the local University. There would be different art pieces, instruments, and even plays. It tackled all the subjects of the arts so it was perfect.

 Before you could walk away a hand went up, it was Ginger, one of the sophomores in your class . “Ms. Y/L/N. I have a question, but it’s not about the field trip.”

 “What’s up?” You asked, walking over and sitting beside her while everyone else started on their projects.

 She looked at Niki, another sophomore in the class before looking at you and giggling. “Have you seen Mr. Holland?”

 “Ginge, I work with the man, of course I’ve seen him.” You rolled your eyes, you knew where this was going, all the girls loved him, mostly for the fact that he was cute and from England.

 Mr. Tom Holland was the drama teacher. Being from the same department, the two of you saw a lot of each other, plus you both joined the staff three years ago. The two of you shared a few late nights here and there setting up different events or going over test and assessments. He alway wrote the best plays, and you always helped with the set design. He was cute, but that wasn’t something you were going to share with a group of gossiping teens.

 “Is he single?” The girl snickered, her eyes wide waiting for your answer.

 “I’m not sure.” That was a lie, he had expressed many times before that he was single, but again, not something they needed to know.

 Ginger sighed. “Ya know, Ms. Y/LN, the two of you would be cute together.”

 “Alright. That’s the end of this conversation. Get to work on your projects.” You shook your head laughing at the girls. They weren’t the first ones to say that. Some of the staff were worse. Like Addy Russell, your best friend, and choir director. The first time you and Tom had stayed late together you didn’t think you would hear the end of it.

 The rest of the day was quiet. It was almost the end of the quarter so you let the kids work on their projects or other work. At the end of the day, you stood in your doorway to monitor the halls. Some students would come in and use the art class for an hour or so, or run up and ask you questions so the door was the prime spot for everything.

 “Good afternoon Ms. Y/LN.” A familiar voice spoke behind you, causing your mouth to spread into a smile against your will.

 “Good afternoon Mr. Holland.” You turned, facing the brown eyes man.

 He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, and a smile matching yours on his face. “How was your day?”

 “Oh, ya know. Lots of paint, oil pastels, makers. Same old same old. How was your day?” You rested your head on the doorframe looking at him as he watched the kids laugh and chatter down the hall.

 “Dramatic.” He laughed at his joke while you rolled your eyes. “Actually, I’m working on a new play.” His eyes locked with yours, that same brightness to them he always got when he was excited about a new project. “Want to read over it? You’re the only one I trust to work on the set and backdrop.”

 Just as you smiled, a giggling group of girls walked by, Ginger in the middle very unsubtly winking at you. “I’d love too.”

 “Sick. Well, I’m going to go make you a copy of it. I’ll stick it in your mailbox.” He pushed himself off the wall, walking backwards towards his door a few down from yours. “See you tomorrow Ms. Y/LN.”

 “Have a good evening Mr. Holland.” You waved, watching the last of the kids empty out the hall before turning into your room.

--

 “Alright guys, when we get there the coordinator is going to talk to us and answer some questions, then you are free to roam around the building and visit the exhibits. Anyone seen in an area they aren’t supposed to be in will receive a write up. Am I clear?”

 “Yes Mrs. Russell.”

 “Good. Now go line up with your teachers for roll and we will be on our way.” She hopped off the bench she was on as the kids started walking around.

 After ensuring everyone from your class was present you lead them to the bus and counted them again and found a seat.

The seat beside you dipped. “Good morning Y/N.” It was Harrison, the Gym teacher and Tom’s best friend since they were in schools.

 “Good morning, Haz.” He wasn’t big on having the kids call him by his last name so they all called him Mr. H. “How are you?”

 “I’m swell. I’m glad you guys asked me to chaperone because Tom hasn't stopped talking about this and I really wanted to go.”

 As of on cue, Tom bounced onto the bus. He instantly found the two of you but narrowed his eyes at Harrison as he made his way down the aisle. “I thought we would sit together?” His question was directed at you, his bottom lip out a bit.

 Harrison draped his arm over you. “Sorry mate. I was here first.”

 “You guys suck.” He whispered before making his way to the back of the bus. Moments later both your phones buzzed.

 Tommy Boiii in Work Hoes: Haz u suk m8

 Hazzy Boiii: slow feet loose ya seat

 You: now now, are we in middle school?

 Tommy Boiii: High school actually

 You: l8r h8r

 When the buses arrived at the Universities Art Center, you and Abby lead the group to the theater where the coordinator would be speaking. Once all the kids were seated, you scanned the rows for an empty seat only to be met with Tom standing in the back row looking right at you. He nodded his head and pointed at the seat beside him.

 “I was going to yell your name if you didn’t look at me.” He laughed when you sat down.

 “Oh shut it.” He opened his mouth to speak at the same time the coordinator started and you stuck a head up. “No. Really. Shh. I want to hear what he says.”

 He introduced himself as Mel Robertson. He gave a short introduction on himself, and about each of the exhibits set up throughout the building. The painting and music exhibits held pieces from from different time periods and two different plays would be performed on the two stages with a chance for everyone to see them. After the short intro, he opened the floor up for questions.

 “How long did it take to set this up?”

 “About two years. There was a lot of rehearsals for the plays, and having to contact the right people in order to obtain permission to show the art pieces. Collecting the instruments was probably the most difficult part. But, it was well worth it because it’s been three years now and we always have amazing turn out.”

 “Are any of the art pieces originals?”

 “Sadly, no. It was too expensive insurance wise to be able to get originals. But, it was also safer to present copies because of the risks of damage while traveling. However, the copies we have are all professionally done and are almost indistinguishable from the originals.”

 The questions rolled in for a few more minutes till Mr. Robertson looked at his watch. “Well, I believe it’s time to get started. I’ll let your teacher take it from here. If any of you have any questions feel free to ask.” He waved as he and Abby traded places.

 “You guys are free to roam. All I ask is that you please be respectful and that you stay in the building. There’s a cafe in the basement if you guys want to eat, and we will make an announcement over the intercom when it's time to leave. Now, off you go, have fun.” All at once, everyone was up and making their way to the exits.

 “So.” Tom started, taking a map from one of the people by the door. “Thanks. Where to first?”

 You looked over his shoulder, pointing at the area for the paintings. “Obviously.”

——

 In all honestly, you were surprised in the best way at the variety of artists and art they had displayed. Everything from pencil sketches to textiles, from Van Gogh to Raphael. The coordinator was serious about the pieces looking authentic.

 “Wow.” The moment you walked in you were drawn to a Van Gogh piece. “This is incredible.”

 “This is Van Gogh, right?” Tom asked, stepping beside you and examining the piece.

 You pointed at the small label at the bottom. “Yeah. It’s “The garden of the asylum at Saint-Rémy”. It’s one of my favorite pieces he did.”

 “Tell me about it.”

 Your eyes scanned the colors as you spoke. “He painted it in 1889 while he was receiving treatment at the asylum. He did a lot of paintings there, all centered around the grounds of the building. The colors are my favorite part.” You point at the top of the tree. “The way he captures the different shadows from the light. This attention to the colors and the amount of detail takes my breath away.”

 “It is beautiful.” Tom was almost whispering and in the room full of chatty teens it was almost inaudible. He moved, brushing his elbow against your arm as he looked at another painting. “Woah. Can you tell me about this one?”

 You pulled your eyes away and followed his finger to another painting that was just as amazing as the first. “Oh my. That’s a Frida Kahlo piece called “The Broken Column”. She painted it in 1944 after she had surgery on her back. The white around her is said to represent the metallic corset she had to wear, and the column that’s broken is her back.” You were silent a moment, just taking in the painting. “The way you can almost feel the pain just by looking at her eyes. It's incredible how much emotion she can have someone feeling.  A lot of her art was self-portrait. Another piece she did called “The Nurse and I” depicted her as a infant being breastfed by a wet nurse. It’s a very interesting piece, I’ll have to show it to you sometime.” You glanced over at him, he was already looking at you, a smile on his face. “What?”

 He blinked, shaking his head while laughing to himself. “Nothing. I just enjoy hearing about art from you.” He extended his elbow. “Tell me more.”

 He escorted you through all the exhibit. There was a fuzzy feeling in your stomach as he asked you about different pieces, and it was clear that he really was interested in knowing about them. It was nice to be able to talk as much as you wanted about the difference between the brush strokes, or the way the colors were mixed a certain way to achieve the color.

 Tom loved hearing you talk about the art. He loved your voice if he was being honest with himself, and he loved how excited you were when you’d talk about your favorite painting or sketch. The way your eyes would light up, and how you would squeeze his arm slightly when you would get super excited about a fact. He wanted to keep you talking about art as long as he could, so he was a bit sad when you reached the last painting.

 The two of you joined Harrison and Abby lunch in the cafe, then toured around the musical instruments before heading to watch the plays. This was what Tom was excited about. He loved everything about theater.

 “It’s the way you get transported into the story of a well written play. And how you can be another person if you’re performing in one.” His eyes were bright in the shadows from the lights on stage. Excitement filling him much as it had filled you earlier.

 Watching his face change throughout the plays was almost as entertaining as the plays themselves. Much like when he was watching on of his own plays come to life, his face was a mixture of emotions. Brows knitted together or up in his hair. Lips either between his teeth or stretched into a smile. His foot tapped along to the beat of musical numbers while his fingers tapped across his leg. Watching him was like watching a one man play.

 “What?” He asked when he glanced over at you. It was much like earlier when he was watching you.

 “Nothing, I just enjoy watching you watch plays.” You shrugged, poking him with your elbow and watching a slight pink cross his cheeks.

 When the second play was over. Abby’s voice filled the building announcing it was time to go. You and Tom walked together and he had his class meet beside yours, determined to sit beside you this time. But the time the busses arrived back at the school it was time for last class so everyone went their separate ways. For you, that meant a planning period so you stopped by your mailbox and headed to your room, planning to enjoy the next hour alone.

 Your mail was mostly announcements and flyers for different school events, but there was something in a Manila envelope marked “-T”. When you opened it you remembered Tom had given you a copy of his script. Sitting back in your chair you started reading. It was the story of a struggling artist who was constantly being belittled by the people around him. But, he never stopped, even while being broke, he never stopped painting. You were instantly pulled into the story, so into it that you missed the sound of the bell for the end of the day. It wasn’t until someone cleared their throat at your door that you looked up.  

 “Alright there, love?” Tom asked, his smile widening when he noticed his scripted in your hands.

 You held it up as he made his way to your desk. “Tom, this is amazing.”

 “I knew you’d like it. I’m thinking of trying to get it going soon, have it be the final play of the year.”

 “I’ve already got tons of ideas for backdrops. I’ll sketch some up this weekend and we can meet up Monday after school?” You face was bright, ideas buzzing around your mind of different ways to set the scenes.

 “I’d love that.” He tapped his knuckles on your desk before turning on his toes. “Have a lovely weekend Y/N”

 “You too, Tom!”

—-

 When you returned to school Monday, you were almost too excited. You had spent the entire weekend designing different ideas for buildings, different paintings for the main character to do, and different odds and ends to help set the mood. Tom knew you well, he had scribbled some of his own ideas and visions in the margins which is always a nice help.

 The final bell rang and you were literally bouncing around you room. You grabbed your art binder, scribbled out a quick sorry note for the door, and weaved your way through the crowd of kids to Tom’s room. He was still at his desk when you entered, shutting the door behind you. He looked up at the sound of the hall muffling, a smile taking over his face as he saw it was you, with an equally big smile.

 “Well good afternoon Y/N. How are you?” He set his pen down and watched you walk to his desk.

 “I’m fantastic. I finished the script and went right to work and I think you’ll like some of these ideas.” You handed him the binder, suddenly a bit nervous.

 He stood, making his way to the long table in the front of the room. Slowly he opened the binder and spread out the papers. He brought his hand up to play with his bottom lip as he examined them individually, eyes scanning every detail. Brows pinched in concentration. Your heart fluttered at how beautiful he was.

 “Y/N.” His voice snapped you out of your trance. “These are incredible. You always manage to get things how they were in my head.” You slowly joined him at the table, watching as he looked back at the sketches. “Seriously, these are amazing. When do you want to start working on them?” Excitement laced his voice as his bright boyish face looked at you.

 “Well, this week is finals and next week is the start of break. I don’t have any plans of you want to start then?” Seeing how excited he was brought the excitement back for you too.

 “You got yourself a date.”

 The week blew by. Grading finished projects and submitting final grades. Between class visits with Tom to talk about a tweak here or there on a design. Before you could blink, you were walking into the empty building to start prep. The only sound in the hall was your shoes squeaking as you made your way to Tom’s room only to find he was there.

 You: Where are you?

 You: I swear if you forgot about our plans.

 Just as you were about to call him music started from the auditorium. As if the school wasn’t already spooky, muffled music made it worse. Slowly, you made your way to the end of the hall, stepping quietly inside. Your breath caught. Tom was on stage, a rather tight tank and sweats on. He was dancing. Spinning and leaping to the rise and fall of the music. It was beautiful and hypnotic. When the music ended, he landed the final leap, chest heaving and forehead shiny with sweat.

 “Bravo!” You clapped, causing him to nearly fall over.

 “Shit. Oh my god you scare me.” He bent with his hands on his knees as you made your way to the stage.

 Looking up at him, you smiled. “That really was amazing.”

 His cheeks were flushed as he smiled. “Thanks. Now, get up here and let's get to work.”

 The two of you spent the day going over the script and setting up placement for people, props, and set pieces. It was the most important first step and Tom set each scene on its own paper. Every move was planned first, then as the set pieces were introduced he would make adjustments. It was fun. You represent each character, letting Tom move you where he wanted you to go. His hands were nice, but there was work to do so you pushed the thought out of your head.

 As the week went on, the two of you made your way through the script, getting a rough idea for placement. There were also lots of trips to hardware stores and local restore stores to get things to help with preparing the set. Spending so much time together was nice. Neither of you really knew just how much you liked each other.

 When school started back up Tom got to work setting up auditions while you recruited students to help with set. Most work was limited to after school, but where were a few times Tom would be so excited about an idea that he would bust into your classroom to tell you. Of course, by this time everyone knew you were helping with the play more than before. Tom was coming directly to you with ideas. The two of you sat close in the cafeteria running through things.

 Set building began, and so did play practice. By this time, you and Tom were with each other every day. Your feelings were growing and growing. Tom would wipe some paint off your face and your knees would go weak. He wasn’t much better, the paint on your face made you even cuter. You were both so blinded by nerves that you couldn’t see that you liked each other. But everyone else could tell.

 “Ms. Y/LN.” Gingers hand was in the air, fingers wiggling. “Are you and Mr. Holland dating yet?”

 “Ginger.” Your face warmed as the class giggled. “Why would you ask that?”

 “Please. He clearly likes you! My brother is in his class and apparently you’re all he talks about!”

 You shook your head. “I’m not discussing this. We aren’t dating.” You kept your face stern, ending the conversation, even though your insides had turned to mush.

 It was true though. Tom had started mentioning you a lot more in class. Especially when a new idea would pop into his head. His first words would be “I need to tell Y/N!” And out the door he would go. The class didn’t mind, they enjoyed watching everything play out. But, with you both unknowing of the other feelings, it was making things go agonizingly slow.

 “You know, you and Tom are the talk of the school.” Abby mentioned one weekend while setting up a movie. “All the kids have a ship name for you. And pretty sure I’ve heard something about a running poll on when you guys will finally kiss.”

 “Oh please.” You body warmed at the thought of kissing him, but Abby didn’t need to know that.

 Abby made a tisk sound while joining you on the couch. “Y/N. Come on, you’re telling me you can’t see it?”

 “See what?”

 “Tom likes you.”

 “Bullshit.” You laughed, taking a handful of popcorn. “You’re worse than the kids.”

 “I’m being serious. I happen to know from a very reliable source that it’s true. Also, I’ve seen the way he looks at you, and the way you look at him. Y/N he comes to you first with ideas, and don’t think I didn’t see you guys walking arm in arm at Road Art. He was literally beaming at you the entire time.��

 “Whos this ‘reliable source’? Also, duh we are working on the play together.”

 “Who do you think told me? Who, beside you, does Tom spend most of his  time with?” She gave you her teacher look. Eyebrows raised and lips pursed.

 “Harrison? How do I know you’re being forreal?”

 She groaned. “Stop being so stubborn. Whatever. I told you what I know, what you do now is up to you.” She rolled her eyes and played the movie.

 After the talk with Abby, you started to notice the little things more. Tom sat a little closer, stayed later to help you clean up. His text were more frequent and not always about the play. Without fail he was by your door between classes and at the end of everyday. You still couldn’t bring yourself to believe that it was because he liked you. No matter how many times you imagined grabbing his face and kissing him, there was still a bit of doubt.

 Soon it was time for the first show. You were probably just as nervous as the kids.

 “Everything looks wonderful Y/N.” Tom said, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. You’d been double checking everything, making sure things did what they were suppose to, and that everything was in its place.  “Thanks.” You rested your head on his shoulder. You’ve been a lot of help getting this stuff done.”

 “I should be thanking you. This would have all still been in my head had you not helped. This is mostly possible because of you.” He squeezed you closer, kissing the top of your head causing the butterflies in your stomach to go crazy.

 All three days went off perfectly. So well in fact, there was another day added, as well as one last performance for the school. The show for the school was the best one of them all. All the kids were excited to put on a good show for their friends, and the rest of the students were excited to see finally see the play. By the end, you had tears in your eyes both from how proud you were of the kids and how sad you were that it was over.

 “Guys! I have a few things to say!” Nick, the lead roll, said while waving his arms to get everyone's attention. “Firstly, this was probably my favorite play to have done, and the group of people I was able to do it with made it even better. Secondly, as a Senior, I’m so glad that I was able to have this play be my last one of my high school career. Thirdly, can Mr. Holland and Ms. Y/LN come out please?” The two of you shared a look before joining the cast on stage. “This play wouldn’t have been if it wasn’t for the two of you. You have both been such an inspiration to all of us, so we wanted to do something special for you.” Nick turned and motioned for someone backstage. Tom’s hand reached for yours and you intertwine your fingers.

 “All of your classes got together and we secretly sold goodies and other things to help raise money for next years play.” Two other seniors had joined the front of the stage, a huge check in their hands. Tom’s hand squeezed yours, a huge smile was planted across both of your faces. Excitement flowed through you both as Nick took a moment before he continued. “Together, we raised $4,391.”

 Your eyes grew wide and your mouth dropped. Tears were freely flowing down your face now. The fact that these kids cared enough about the plays absolutely warmed your heart. Tom wore a matching expression to yours. The auditorium was full of cheers, your body was so warm and fuzzy that you almost thought you were dreaming. Tom tugged on your hand, pulling you into a hug, and meeting your lips with his. What?

 Everyone cheered even louder. Whoops and hollers and shouts of finally. But for you, everything stopped. When he pulled away, his face was full of shock

 “Oh my. Oh no. I’m so sorry.” He frantically scanned your face trying to gauge your reaction. “I’ve been want omg to do that for so long. And there was just so much happening just now that I kinda lost myself. Oh man. I hope I di-” You put your finger over his mouth to silence him.

 All the kids on the stage had circled around you, laughing and full of excitement that the two of you finally made a move.

 “Just shut up and kiss me, Mr. Holland.”

#tom #tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #teacher tom

[valkyrieofsmut]

All I want for Christmas is a priest   Part 1

Kurt Wagner x Non mutant! OC

Types: Smut, Romance, some angst, holidays

Overall series warnings: Smut, religious references, Priest!Kurt, debauchery of a priest in training, probably inaccurate Catholic references, mentions of past sexual abuse, German (translations provided, but I have bad grammar… Sorry native speakers…) 

A/n-   There are a lot of song lyrics in the story. You can let them wash over you, try to find them, ignore them and think the OC is weird, or just go with it. <3 yous, and merry Christmas, part 2 should be out tomorrow.

 Masterlist

Story!

Kurt straightened his cassock, looking at himself in the mirror, his fingers touching the empty spot where his collar would go. He wouldn’t get it until he was ordained, but the date was drawing closer.

He’d left the X-Men a few years ago, deciding that he would be better able to serve the mutant community by giving them hope and the knowledge that God didn’t hate them.

He looked at the contacts that made it look like he had pupiled, more normal eyes to make sure they were in place, then his eyes moved to his cheek, closely examining the flesh colored make up there to make sure that his blue skin was fully covered. He had hated it at first, but had gotten used to it over the three and a half years he had been in the seminary, training to get to where he was. Now he only had the last six months of practical training, or interning, which he had started a few months ago with a priest, Father Connor, who was about ten years older than himself and knew of his strange appearance.

He opened the door and stepped out of the office leading to the choir seating, only to be washed over by singing. It wouldn’t have been so strange if the church hadn’t been empty except for himself and the priest before he’d gone into the office.

Kurt looked around, seeing a hooded figure in a long coat walking down the aisle, singing. He had frozen, hearing the words.

“Hoppe hoppe Reiter, und kein Engel steigt herab, mein Herz schlägt nicht mehr weite, nur der Regen weint am Grab, hoppe hoppe Reiter, eine Melodie im Wind, mein Herz schlägt nicht mehr weite, und aus der Erde singt das Kind…”

The German was rolled, rounded, practiced, but the words slightly off, as someone who hadn’t had enough practice speaking the language itself sang them. The low voice was off, as well, like a man speaking in falsetto, only reversed. Maybe a tenor singing a bass’s part, stretching to drop that extra octave to match the low notes.

The hooded figure continued down the aisle, stopping and looking up at the front, dropping to a knee and standing in one motion before heading to the back where the priest’s main office was, never missing a word of the song.

Kurt looked after the figure, wondering what the whole thing was about. He had never seen anyone coming into church in such a manner, and the figure hadn’t seemed very accustomed to Catholic traditions, knowing enough to touch a knee to the ground, but maybe not knowing, or caring, enough on how to do it properly.

The doors to the church opened again and a few ladies entered, giggling among themselves and making their way up to the choir seating. More people filed in, making their way to the chairs waiting for them so they could begin practice.

Kurt watched them, glad that they had accepted him into their church enough to not mind him being so close, but his mind kept straying back to the figure, wondering what they could want, thinking over the whole walk as they went down the aisle to the back office. He couldn’t even be sure of the person’s gender, though the voice and shapeless looking form made him lean heavily toward male.

There was a laugh from the back, and Kurt turned to look as the priest and the hooded figure made their way to the choir seating. Father Connor put a hand on the figure’s shoulder and looked to him.

“This is Kurt. He is new, and we have put him to work as the choir director to help get ready for Christmas.”

The figure waved, but Kurt couldn’t see any features, since the person kept their face down. They turned and walked past the chairs, going to the stairs, pulling the hood back slowly, revealing furry ears.

Kurt was horrified; it appeared that this person was a mutant, physically affected, and they were showing it in front of everyone!

His cheeks started to burn in regretful embarrassment as he remembered that he had spent years fighting with the X-Men, fighting so that physically affected mutants could feel safe and comfortable enough to show themselves without hiding. Still, it was dangerous…

Maybe he had just gotten too used to trying to fit in with makeup...

“Nice hat, still,” one of the ladies commented, a bit of rudeness not really hidden in her tone.

“Not easily offended, know how to let it go, from the mess to the masses...” was the trailing off reply.

The voice was higher now, and Kurt felt more unsure of the gender of the person. He looked away and when he looked back, the person had sat down in one of the chairs on the top row, between the tenors and altos, holding the music in front of them to study it.

Kurt ran the choir practice, paying attention to the music, and not to the mystery person.

As the practice ended, though, Father Connor stepped to the person and stopped them. “Kurt, I’d like you to introduce yourself to our friend.” With that, Father Connor went to where a couple of the patrons were trying to get his attention.

“Hallo,” Kurt greeted, his hands clutched together to let the difference remain unseen.

“Hello,” came the voice, feminine, he thought, or maybe just high for a man… “Reindeer, hello snowman, hello Santa, happy holidays,” the figure finished in a mumble.

“I’ve never seen you here before,” Kurt offered after a stunned moment.

“I’ve never seen you either, but I’m like Santa. I only come for Christmas,” was the explanation to Kurt’s silence.

“You only come to church for Christmas?” He asked. “None of the other masses or celebrations?”

The figure looked uncomfortable, looking to the side instead of the floor where they’d been focused. “I don’t belong here... I don’t belong here…”

Kurt hesitated. “Everyone belongs here,” he said.

“No, I mean I don’t go here. I’m not part of the church; I just like singing…”

Kurt tried to get a better look, or any look at all, really, from the figure’s face. He smiled to try to put the person at ease and said, “You must like singing very much.”

“Yes… I’m a second alto, so if you need a tenor, you can ask me.”

“Second alto, hm?” Kurt asked, making note that the person was a woman.

“Yes…”

Father Connor came back to stand next to them as the last of the other choir participants made their way out. “You should stop hiding,” he commented to the woman.

She reached up and tugged off her hat, giving him a look. “I’m not hiding, Father Connor, your church is just very cold.”

Father Connor chuckled. “Yes, I’m sure. You should actually speak to him. Remember what we’ve talked about.”

She rolled her eyes and turned them to Kurt, unzipping her coat and taking it off to let it fall on the floor. She held out her hand for Kurt to shake, looking polite. Kurt carefully took her hand so she didn’t notice that it was different.

“Hello, my name is Liesel, I’m a second alto, so please, call on me if you need another tenor.”

Kurt looked into her mostly green eyes, flecked with brown as they looked at him, not quite connecting. Her shirt was loose around her, leading to show that she carried a little extra weight, and her longish brown hair fell messily around her shoulders. “Liesel?” Kurt asked, surprised at the unusual, and German, name.

“Like the Sound of Music,” she supplied.

“Ah. Is that your favorite musical?” He asked.

“No. I like others more.” Father Connor gave her a look and she rolled her eyes slightly again. “Like the Rocky Horror Picture Show, Hairspray, Nightmare Before Christmas, Little Shop of Horrors…”

Kurt smiled. “Yes, those are some good ones, as well.” Her lip lifted a little. Probably at the thought of a soon to be priest watching the Rocky Horror Picture Show.

“Kurt, perhaps you can talk to Liesel.” Liesel gave Father Connor a look.

“Oh?” Kurt asked.

“Yes, she has been singing with us for, I believe this is the third year? But, I still have not been able to convince her to come to a regular mass,” he answered.

“Is there a reason?” Kurt asked her.

“Please excuse me, I’ll leave you to talk, I’ve some business in my office,” Father Connor told them.

Liesel sighed and picked up her coat and things, then moved to sit down. Kurt looked at her in question. “He won’t let me be until we talk for at least fifteen minutes,” she told him.

Kurt sat next to her. “Are there any questions you have?”

“No,” she answered. “I’m not part of your church, but I don’t have anything against you. I respect your religion, even if I don’t partake.”

Kurt smiled. “That’s very Christian of you.”

Liesel shrugged. “Sure.”

“Liesel, why is it that you like singing here so much?” He asked.

“I just like singing with a group. I sing with the local city choir, too, but they don’t sing the hymns, like Ava Maria and the like.”

“You like singing hymns?”

“Yes,” she answered.

“What is your favorite?”

“Hard to say, Mary Did You Know isn’t as moving to listen to as it is to sing, I think, but… Hm… Ave Maria, Angels We Have Heard on High, Hark the Herald Angels Sing… Things with a good four part harmony… I’m rather fond of Still Still Still, but I don’t think that counts as a Hymn.”

Kurt nodded. “Liesel, why is it that Father Connor wants you to talk to me, do you think?”

Liesel’s lip twitched up. “He wants me to be nice to you, because being silent can be construed as rude.”

Kurt’s brow raised. “Oh?”

She nodded, then turned to look into his eyes. “I’m also supposed to look you in the eye or face.”

“Is it something you’re trying to work on?”

“I suppose,” she answered.

“What do you mean, you suppose?” Kurt asked.

“That, I believe, is private, due to some law about confession,” Liesel told him, blinking and looking away as her eye twitched. The dry wintery air was starting to make them dry and itchy, even though it was just starting to get to winter temperatures.

Kurt nodded in reply to her, a slight wincing smile lifting his lip as he wondered what she had confessed that would make trying to be socially interactive something she was working on.

A beeping sound came from the woman’s person and she dug through her pocket, pulling out a phone, asking for him to excuse her. “Hello?” She answered. “Well, no- oh! I didn’t- Yes, I’ll be right there,” she told the person before hanging up the phone. “Please excuse me, I’ve got to get going,” she told Kurt, standing and pulling on her coat and eared hat.

Kurt stood and smiled as well. “I’ll see you in a few days for practice, then.”

“Yes, a few days,” she answered, wondering how she’d forgotten that today was the first meeting for the city choir to set up practice.

...    ...    ...     

A few days later, after practice, Kurt stepped to Liesel, knowing that Father Connor wanted him to talk to her, hoping that she’d join the congregation, maybe find what she was missing or something to help her. “Hallo, Liesel.”

“Hello,” she answered quietly.

“May we talk again?” Kurt asked.

She looked up to his eyes, as though appraising him. “I suppose. What do you want to talk about?”

“How about movies?” He asked.

She assented, and they spoke for a while, not noticing that the time was quickly passing them by. Kurt was glad that she seemed to open up a little more, being still hesitant to share and strangely a little standoffish, but less so, especially after they had discussed movies and found that they had quite a few tastes in common.

Kurt made a gesture with his hands, and Liesel's eyes followed one, taking in the appearance, but as soon as his hand disappeared back down, behind his back in nervousness, she looked back to his eyes.

“Yes, but you’ll hear how much better the book was.” Kurt nodded, worried that she would realize that he was a mutant, and then would become afraid and belligerent. “I always try to walk into the movies expecting nothing, accepting that it is a different way to tell the same story. That way, as long as it stays pretty true to the lore and rules in the book, I don't take it too hard.”

Kurt nodded again. “That is a good way to think about it,” he agreed.

Liesel blinked hard, noticing how dark it had gotten. “I should go,” she told him, standing. Kurt stood as well and walked her out.

...    ...    ...    

The next time they spoke about books, and the next about movies, books, and plays they liked. They spent a few weeks like that, and got to know each other more. Slowly, Liesel relaxed around him, becoming more comfortable in his company.

After about a month, Kurt found that he was very fond of the time he got to spend with Liesel, glad that they had been able to become friends.

Liesel also felt some happiness at the amount of time she was getting to spend with Kurt, for some reason looking forward to it, despite knowing that it was only because it was Kurt’s job as a clergyman to attempt to help the downhearted.

.

Snow had fallen thickly over the few days since the last practice, and Kurt was marveling at the beautiful blanket of fresh snow in the courtyard, thinking happily that choir practice would be soon, and he’d get to spend time with Liesel after.

Liesel hefted her foot over the pile of snow next to her car, irritated that she hadn’t had time to change at work. If they would let her off on time instead of making her stay as long as the kids wanted a picture with the Santa crew, she wouldn't be stuck in the ridiculous costume.

She shivered as she hurried to the church, finding Father Connor in the front hall. “F-f-f-f-Father C-Connor,” she greeted.

He turned to her and smiled. “My, don’t you look festive,” he commented, looking down her fuzzy red dress, frilly skirt, elfin tights, and heavy black boots.

“Y-y-yeah… Do you mind if- if I change in the- office?” She asked, trying not to stutter as she rubbed her hands together to try to regain feeling in her numb fingers.

“Of course,” he told her.

“Th-thanks,” she gratefully told him, taking her bag of clothing and heading to the office off of the choir seating.

She quickly pulled off the boots and tights, her frozen and previously wet skin clammy. She bunched up the tights, feeling the wet feet as she pulled the shorts from around them, and pulled the shorts on again before stuffing the tights into her bag. She reached behind her and unzipped the dress, pulling the thing over her head.

Kurt walked down the hallway, eager to get to choir practice and spend time with Liesel after. He stopped in the hall, looking at his hands quickly to make sure they were still covered with makeup before opening the door to the office behind the choir seating.

He looked up, stopping in shock at the beautiful female body in front of him.

Long legs.

Trim figure.

Arms held up.

The red velvet material came off of her head, and long, glowing brown hair cascaded down around her shoulders and ample breasts. Breasts surrounded by silky looking fabric, stomach bare, small shorts over her hips and thighs, bare, smooth legs…

So beautiful…

Kurt’s eyes jumped up to Liesel’s, which were wide in something that looked like terror, as she held the red fabric in front of herself. “I-I-I-” Kurt blushed and looked down. “I’m sorry,” he murmured and stepped back out of the room, closing the door and leaning back against it.

Liesel’s arms fell and the dress landed in front of her as she fell to her knees. She blinked rapidly, looking around. The panic and fight or flight were still flowing through her body. “It’s ok,” she whispered to herself, pulling herself back up. She looked at the door across from her, the one that lead to the hall, and hurriedly pulled her clothes on.

Maybe… Just maybe…

.

Kurt ran the practice, avoiding looking at Liesel, embarrassed about walking in on her, but also embarrassed that her nearly nude body was burned in his mind.

The choir participants started filing out, and Kurt blushed, but stepped up to Liesel as she walked to go past him. “Liesel…” She paused, keeping tabs of his position relative to hers, though it looked like she wasn’t looking at him, and he took that as a sign that she was listening. “I-I’m sorry,” he told her. “I didn’t mean- I didn’t know you were in the office…” He explained, feeling his face heat under the makeup caked over it.

Liesel looked up at him. His hands were twisting nervously, his eyes were sincere, his shoulders hunched in embarrassment, but also in sincerity. Maybe… Maybe he was ok… Liesel felt a slight smile lift her lips. “It’s ok…”

Kurt let out a barely audible sigh of relief. “I’m glad… Liesel… What would you like to talk about today?”

.

Liesel had left, and Kurt had gone to his room, undressing for a shower. He paused, looking at where the makeup stopped, leaving a strange swirling between the flesh color and blue on his forearm.

He stepped into the shower and turned on the water, turning it toward cold as the image of a beautiful, nearly nude Liesel filled his mind.

He had judged her wrongly; she wasn’t plump, as he’d expected. Her breasts were large, making her shirt hang loosely around her and give her the illusion of extra weight, but she was well fit; not too skinny, almost chubby, but right in that perfect spot before, just his preference.

He felt himself reacting to the sexy image, and shook his head, but that only brought the image of her hair falling all around her shoulders and breasts. He drew in a breath, trying to steady himself.

He hadn’t felt the pleasure of his hand for about three years, falling to temptation once or twice just after joining the seminary, and feeling the pleasure of a woman had stopped even longer back.

Kurt turned the water colder and took another breath. He had to keep his wits about him…

She was his friend, and while he would savor the chance to touch her beautiful body, hear her singing in pleasure, he was nearly finished with his training to become a priest; hardly three months left. It was impossible, besides, she was supposed to see him as a support, a bridge to God, a friendly, concerned, but benign presence, helping lift her faith.

.

Kurt awoke the next day, glad that he had denied himself; if he had thought of her while pleasuring himself, he felt he would have greatly regretted it this morning.

He spent his day taking care of his obligations, ignoring the down feeling that he wouldn't get to see Liesel today, and just how greatly he was looking forward to tomorrow when he would see her again.

.

Liesel stretched as she stood with the group, spending a little longer stretching as the other people started walking away.

This time, however, they were discussing something they were planning, a toy or money drive, items for donation to the homeless, running a soup kitchen, they hadn’t decided yet, but they were hanging around in clumps, and Liesel walked down, pausing by a pew, hoping Kurt would still come to talk to her. She brushed out her coat while she waited, wondering why she was standing there.

Kurt greeted a group of women who stopped him.

“What do you think, Father Wagner? Do you think a soup kitchen, or a clothing drive would be better?”

“I’m not sure, ladies, I believe Father Connor would be better at evaluating the need of the community. I don’t think I’ve been here long enough to have a enough of an idea.”

The women tittered and murmured to themselves as he walked away toward Liesel, his eye bothering him more this afternoon than it had this morning. He rubbed at it, but could find little to no relief. “Hallo, Liesel,” he greeted as he rubbed his eye a little harder.

“Hello,” Liesel greeted. She was easily looking him in the eye, something she’d had to work at for the first little while. He smiled, opening his eye with a little more comfort. Liesel blinked and her eyes widened. “Um… Your eye…” Kurt blinked, unsure of what she meant. “Your… contact?” She suggested, not sure if it was the right thing.

“Oh,” Kurt rubbed at his eye a little more, and felt the contact come free onto the  back of his knuckle. He closed his eye to look at her, nervous of the others so close as well. “Ahm… Ja, it has been bothering me all day…”

“Do you need a mirror to put it back in?” She asked.

“Ah, no, my fingers are… dirty…” He told her, looking down at the makeup covered hand holding the contact.

“I- I could help you,” Liesel told him, reaching into her small bag and pulling out a travel size bottle of saline.

“You just carry that around with you?” Kurt asked as she took the contact from his hand and washed it in hers.

“The winter air dries out my contacts,” she told him.

Kurt’s breath caught in his lungs as Liesel stepped closer, putting a hand on his cheek and focusing on his eye.

“You’re going to have to open your eye if I’m going to get this contact back in,” she lightly teased.

Kurt opened his eye and she pulled down his lid. She was very close to him as she raised a brow at noticing the dark purple color inside his eyelid. She spent a second putting the contact in before telling him, “blink. Again.” She pulled her hand away and nodded. “You’ll probably have to look around for a second to get it settled in place.”

Kurt did and it was much more comfortable. He was hesitantly quiet, unsure of her reaction. He’d hopped that she hadn’t quite caught how different his hand was before, maybe it had been too dark, but now, she had  stood almost close enough to touch him, staring at his eye in the light…

There was no way she’d missed it. But… She wasn’t saying anything… “I- I hope you… Won’t hold it against me…” She turned her head a little as her face reflected her confusion. “That… That I’m a mutant…” He murmured so the others wouldn’t hear.

“I hope you won’t hold it against me that I’m not a member of your church,” she returned with a sly smile.

“Never,” he shook his head.

“Ditto,” she replied.

He smiled in relief. She was so kind and thoughtful, more so than quite a few of the patrons of the church, he thought grimly.

He was thinking a little fondly of her, perhaps…

Liesel blinked and stepped back, feeling how her chest had become uncomfortably tight. She looked away, her cheeks heating a little as she bit her lip. Why was she thinking of him this way? Sure, she liked him; he was nice, and they had a lot in common, but she couldn’t think of him as anything more than a friend. He was a member of the clergy.

Kurt was relieved that Liesel didn’t seem to care about him being a mutant. Thinking back, he was fairly certain that she had seen how different his hands were and just hadn’t said anything.

He enjoyed their time together as they spoke, and eventually Liesel had to leave. Was it just his imagination, or was she hesitating to go?

“Well… I guess I’ll see you next week,” she told him, leaving through the doors.

“Next week,” he agreed. He watched her go, until she got into her car and pulled out of the parking lot.

“Kurt, it’s getting late. Have you been speaking to her for all this time?” Father Connor asked.

Kurt’s cheeks heated, and he was glad for the makeup that hid it. “Yes, we were a little engrossed in our conversation,” he admitted.

Father Connor chuckled. “You seem to be rather fond of her,” he commented.

“She is… very nice.”

“You seem to have much in common,” Father Connor offered.

“Yes,” Kurt agreed.

“Do you, perhaps, care for her a little more than is normal?”

“No,” Kurt quickly rebutted. “No. She is just a very nice young woman, who seems sad… Lonely…”

“She has seemed less sad lately,” Father Connor commented.

“Good,” Kurt commented back. “No one should be sad at Christmas time.”

Father Connor nodded in agreement.

...    ...    ...    

Liesel wrapped a present, hesitating with a piece of tape. “Can I help you?” She asked the man standing at the counter.

“Is Andrea still here?” He asked.

“Andrea,” Liesel called toward the back.

The young blond hurried to the front room. “Yes? Oh! Richard!” She cried, rushing forward and around the counter. The two wrapped their arms around each other, kissing.

Liesel set the finished package to the side and looked up at them. She wished that someone would kiss her.

It had been a long time since she’d been able to get that far with a man. Scars on her heart and trust made it hard, but she tried not to think about the past and what her stepbrother had done to her, forcefully and painfully. She was feeling more confident than she had in a long time, in no small part due to singing with the choirs, she knew, but still, she wanted someone to kiss her, and maybe if she found someone she could trust-

An image of Kurt floated in her mind’s eye.

Liesel gave a slight jump. No- no, not Kurt, he was a priest; definitely off limits, and probably not interested in her more than trying to be her friend and help her not feel alone. But still, it would be nice if she could find someone to kiss her like Richard was kissing Andrea…

Passionately and lovingly…

Kurt’s image popped up again.

Liesel’s eyes widened as she stepped back from the table and turned to grab the next package needing gift wrapped, but her hands stopped, resting on it.

Why was she thinking of him like this? She shouldn’t- couldn’t! He was a clergyman, and though she wasn’t part of his church, she respected his position and all he’d had to sacrifice and swear to to obtain it.

Still, she couldn’t help but think of him, his smile, the way his eyes looked at her warmly… Her heart was beating a little faster, and she bit her lip. She had a crush on him. She shook her head to free it of the shock. Normally, a crush wouldn’t be anything to worry about, something normal and healthy, but now…

She couldn’t think about Kurt like this. He was a holy man and thinking about him, about kissing him or anything else that wasn’t platonic, was inherently dirty, making her like a wicked, conniving, betrayer of God…

She took a deep breath, trying to remain calm. Wait, she thought. It’s just a crush, it’s not like I’m actually trying to get him to kiss me. It’ll probably just go away by itself… Yeah… I’ll find someone more appropriate, and this will be in the past…

.

Liesel sat in a pew at the back of the church, hoping she would remain unseen.

She ducked down as the office door at the back of the church opened. Father Connor walked out and pulled his coat on, getting a shovel from the closet across from his office before heading down the hall away from the hall.

The door to the choir director’s office opened as well and Kurt- Father Kurt- Father Wagner walked out. She took a breath and hid deeper in the pew. She shouldn’t be here alone with him…

The door opened and some other choir people came in. She waited until they had passed and followed behind them up to the seating, saying hi as Kurt greeted all of them. She sat in her spot as they waited for everyone to gather.

Soon enough, they had all come and practice was finished.

Kurt waited as the majority of the choir group filed out, looking at Liesel as she made her way down. He looked away quickly as the thought of her in lingerie filled his head. “Liesel,” Kurt greeted when she reached him.

“Father Wagner…” She hesitantly said.

Kurt paused in surprise. “Ah, you may still call me Kurt,” he told her. Her cheeks turned a little pink, and he was at a loss for why.

They sat as the rest of the group discussed their winter charity with Father Connor, and Kurt’s eyes had to focus on staying away from her body, neck, lips, or the way her hair fell around her shoulders.

They talked, taking pleasure in each other’s company, and reminding themselves that they couldn’t be thinking the things they were.

Father Connor turned the lights on above them, and Liesel realized just how dark it had gotten. She looked at her phone for the time and stood quickly. “Wow, I can’t believe how late it is.”

Kurt escorted her out, making sure that she arrived at her car safely before turning and seeing that Father Connor was still there.

“Kurt,” he greeted.

“Father Connor…” Kurt answered unsurely.

“You do seem to have a good time with Liesel.”

“Yes,” Kurt answered, not sure what to say. Father Connor smiled to him.

“She seems to be rather taken with you as well.”

Kurt walked toward him, giving an unsure nod of acknowledgement at his attempt to start a conversation. “She does enjoy talking about things, unfortunately, much of the American music is unfamiliar to me, and she seems to be very fond of it.”

Father Connor nodded. “She could have an entire conversation by quoting songs,” he confessed to Kurt. “It was quite disconcerting when she first came here. She seems to be doing a lot better since talking to you.”

Kurt couldn’t quite stop the smile tugging at his lips.

They made their way to their rooms, Kurt going to wash off the makeup caked over his skin. A shower was always the easiest, as he felt chunks of the stuff fall from him in the rushing water, and he stepped in. He closed his eyes and scrubbed at his face, letting the false skin be washed away.

Liesel looked up at him shyly.

Kurt’s eyes snapped open, trying to get the image out of his head.

If he were honest, he would confess about this, but he was afraid of Father Connor finding out about how he was feeling, knowing that it was an improper thing for him to be thinking about her like this. He would fail and be kicked out of the church for sure…

And yet, Liesel’s body seemed to be there next to him, her hair impervious to the falling water, but her body letting it glisten down her. Down her breasts, over her stomach, along her thighs-

Kurt shook his head. He couldn’t think this, and yet…

He couldn’t get the thought out of his head. He thought of her as a beautiful young woman, a kindhearted friend and good conversational partner during the day, but when she wasn’t there, as soon as the sun had gone down and he’d stepped into the shower to rid himself of the caked on makeup, his body started making its desires known. His body wanted her, craved her and needed her like he’d never thought of wanting any woman, thing, or even food or water, in his life.

He refused, night after night, reminding himself that he had sworn to celibacy. He had to keep strict; there was no telling what would happen to his relationship with Liesel if he couldn’t control himself. He may be unable to stop from confessing to her of his improper thoughts, and she would surely be unable to ever look him in the face again.

His hand had drifted down his abs in his distraction, desperate to rid him of this frustration, but he caught it before it could, slamming it against the wall as he groaned in anger and helplessness.

The frustration would last another day.

...    ...    ...    

Days passed and his frustration grew. It had been two, nearly three, weeks since he’d walked in on her, and every night, the memory of her beautiful skin haunted him. It was driving him mad. His body needed her, needed release, needed attention as a man! He turned it down, over and over, refusing to give in.

.

It was Friday, the last of the practice days that week, and Kurt reflexively smiled at seeing Liesel sitting at the top of the stairs. She was so beautiful.

Kurt dismissed the group and stood in his spot at the front, waiting for Liesel to come closer to him.

Liesel looked up, her cheeks pinkening. “Hi, Kurt… I have to hurry to city choir practice today, so I can’t stay, but…” Kurt felt his heart squeezing. She couldn’t stay and talk to him. It was going to be days before he got to see her again, next Thursday, to be precise, as the choir practice would temporarily be put on hold so that the church could run it’s clothing drive. Liesel turned back to him from her small bag. “I made this for you, um, so you could- it has some music on it-” Kurt took the offered cd, looking at it in confusion. “I’m sorry,” she blurted. “I don’t even know if you have a cd player, I mean, Father Connor has a computer and it should work on there-”

Kurt smiled and put his hand on hers. “It’s great, thank you.”

Liesel let out her breath in relief. “Well… I’ll see you next week,” she told him, and he nodded.

Kurt watched her walk away. It would be nearly a week until he saw her again. His fingers tightened, holding the cd case against him.

The group had dispersed, and Father Connor and he were the only people left. They cleaned the church, had a drink of cider together, and said good night to adjourn to their studies. Father Connor was reading his scriptures and preparing for his sermon on Sunday, Kurt was sure, and he took his bible from his desk drawer for study after his shower, and when finished, sat at his desk, opening the bible to the page he had left off on.

The next day Kurt helped get the church ready for mass, dusting, shining, sweeping, and vacuuming, making sure there were bibles enough in all the pews. He helped to complete the rest of the chores, too, and by the end of the day was glad of his shower, even though Liesel’s image was waiting there, making his body beg for release.

As Kurt stared at the page in front of him, he realized that he was lost in thought, and his vision slid to the cd Liesel had given him.

He closed his bible and stood, going to the closet where his things were and dug into the box where the things he didn’t use much were and pulled out an old discman, pulling the headphones free and starting to stuff them in his ears as he went back to his desk and sat as he took the cd from the case and swapped it with the one in the discman.

The cd player actually still worked, surprising him, and the music started. It was upbeat, catchy, the lyrics meant something, or were just fun… it was interesting. He’d heard one or two before, but a lot of them were new to him.

There were twenty five songs, and somewhere in the middle, he changed from the chair at his desk, to his bed. He laid back, listening to the music, letting the sound wash over him. His eyes closed, and he drifted off, thoughts of Liesel filling his mind.

.

A shrill alarm sound filled the room, and Kurt’s eyes snapped open. The batteries had died and silence came from the earbuds in his ears. He pulled them out and started his routine for getting ready for mass.

The mass was lovely, a touching sermon about loving one another, the season, and charity. Kurt felt filled with peace and hope, and his mind filled with thoughts of Liesel. After the sermon, he helped take confession, talked to the people who stayed to help clean the church, and discussed the charity with the people who were mostly in charge.

When he got into the shower, Liesel was still there, her body tempting him. He finished the shower as quickly as possible and turned to Corinthians. “But whoever is united with the Lord is one with him in spirit. Flee from sexual immorality. All other sins a person commits are outside the body, but whoever sins sexually, sins against their own body.” Kurt paused and read it again. He tried to let it sink in deeper before continuing. “Do you not know that your bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God? You are not your own; you were bought at a price. Therefore honor God with your bodies.” He had to keep his body and mind pure.

.

Monday he volunteered to do the shopping for them, and made a special stop at the battery section to get some for his discman. When he got back to the church and had put all of the groceries away, he went to his room and pulled the discman from his desk, quickly putting in the batteries and stuffing the earbuds in his ears. He turned the player on and listened to the songs as he laid on the bed. Visions of Liesel went through his head with the music, making him restless.

He turned off the cd and went out to fix dinner for Father Connor and himself, after which they went their separate ways and Kurt climbed into the shower. He saw Liesel there, as usual, and his body begged him for release.

He ignored his body, reciting Corinthians to himself again. His stiffness didn’t leave, so he ignored it as he finished the shower, hoping it would go away. It still didn’t, and he continued ignoring it as he pulled on pajamas and laid in bed, putting the earbuds in his ears.

He tried to focus on the music, but the songs made him think of Liesel, and as he started drifting off, his brain starting to think of things he wanted to do to Liesel, and what he wanted her to do to him…

Kurt tossed and turned, trying to ignore his body’s desires, but had trouble.

Kurt awoke in the morning, feeling as though he’d gotten no sleep. The first thing he did was read Corinthians, the second was to slather his face with the makeup that made him look like a normal human. The third was to go do his daily chores and help Father Connor with visits to the members of the church who weren’t able to make it to the mass regularly, or who were temporarily unable to attend. He helped clean a few places, cook a few meals, gather groceries and supplies for those confined to their homes, all of the things he should be doing as a part of the clergy, and yet, he couldn’t stop Liesel from popping up in his mind randomly.

She teased him with her mostly green hazel eyes, her shining brown hair, her full lips, her round breasts, full, plush looking, and hidden under her baggy shirt. He had to pull his mind from where it shouldn’t be a lot more than was reasonable.

Kurt walked with Father Connor back to the church, surrounded by silent reflection until Father Connor broke it.

“You look troubled, Kurt.”

“Ah, no,” Kurt denied.

Father Connor paused, but came at him from another direction. “You are missing choir practice, aren’t you?”

Kurt hesitated, but answered, “yes.”

“You know, there is just under a month until Christmas.”

Kurt’s head jerked up. It was true, there was just under a month of time that they would use to practice for that day, and then they would return to regular hymns.

And Liesel would leave.

Kurt’s chest felt tight, and he subconsciously touched it.

That night, Kurt laid in bed, listening to the cd Liesel had given him. His body was calling for her, hoisting the fabric of his pants high like a flagpole with his stiffness. He tried to ignore it, lying motionless on his back, focusing on the music, but the inner turmoil was roiling.

It was late. Father Connor was undoubtedly asleep, as he should also be. The whole town was most likely asleep. But Kurt couldn’t sleep. His body demanded things of him he couldn’t do. It demanded to be touched, it demanded that he let it be touched.

I can’t! He thought desperately.

“Then let me…” Liesel’s eyes slowly opened as she looked up at him, clothed in only her bra and panties as she straddled his hips.

Kurt took a deep breath. No, I can’t! He thought in a near panic for losing his control as his heart pounded in his chest.

“I’ll help you, Kurt,” Liesel whispered seductively to him.

Kurt felt his hand moving down on its own. “No,” he murmured, his eyes contorting in concentration.

“Please let me help you, Kurt, I want to help you… I want to help so badly…” Liesel told him as she leaned forward and rubbed up his body.

It had been so long, his member jumped, fairly leaping to painful attention at the touch of his hand rubbing against it through his pajama pants. Liesel’s image slid down his body, rubbing against his rod stiff protrusion. It felt good, and she moved back up. Kurt’s hand was rubbing up and down with her body, pressing a little harder in some spots.

He shouldn’t be doing this, none of it; not touching himself, not letting himself be distracted by sexual thoughts, and definitely not thinking of Liesel while doing it! But her breasts were pressed against him, teasing him just so, just right, he wanted to touch them, lick them, make her moan and cry out, God, he needed to taste them, her, all of her-

“Uggh!” A guttural sound was jerked from Kurt as he suddenly spilled wetness over himself and his pajamas. He looked down at the mess spreading across his hips, a feeling of defeat filling him. He’d finally lost the battle.

He laid back for a few minutes before taking off his headphones and going to his bathroom to clean up. He pulled off his pajamas and boxers, rinsing them in the sink before he stepped into the shower to give a quick wash to his hips and thighs, but as his hands tried to pass over him inoffensively, his cock sprang back up and to life.

He looked down at it in shock. It was an extremely fast recovery, he hadn’t seen anything like it since maybe his teen years. He tried to ignore it, trying to wash around it, but his body was not giving up.

Liesel was standing next to him, looking at him and smiling sweetly.

He closed his eyes in defeat. He couldn’t stop her beautiful face and body from taunting him, even by giving in and giving his body what it wanted. He wrapped his hand around his again stiff cock, his arm relearning how to move, pumping up and down as he felt more and more fuzzy about why he shouldn’t be with Liesel in real life. His body was trying to convince his mind that it was good and right, ok and necessary. His hand tightened a little as it moved, quickening the pace until he fell over the edge, coming again and panting as he leaned against the wall.

He was so dirty, so unclean and impure. The opposite of what he should be to be a priest. He was a failure, something corrupted and depraved. Kurt fell to his knees and looked up into the spray of water, praying to God for forgiveness.

...    ...    ...    

Kurt felt the guilt tearing holes in his soul as he watched Liesel sing. She was so innocent and pure, she needed his compassion and kindness, but he’d turned her into some sort of lust object in his mind, having not been able to stop from pleasuring himself multiple times over the days since he’d first done it.

He’d uncontrollably masturbated, followed by furiously begging God for forgiveness for his transgressions against his body and the beautiful woman haunting his thoughts, shower, and bed.

The crowd pushed to get down to the floor, somehow pushing Liesel to the front and onto the floor first, making her duck to the side and escape down a side hall and out of the side door leading to the courtyard. She gasped a breath and let it out in relief. “Like a stampede of cattle,” she muttered to herself.

Kurt stood at the side, watching as the crowd bundled Liesel away, surprised at their excitement to leave. But, then, there were only a couple of weeks until Christmas, and shopping was most likely on their minds.

“I believe your conversational partner escaped that way,” Father Connor told him with a grin.

Kurt nodded in thanks and headed down the hall he’d pointed to, following it and stepping out onto the sidewalk next to the garden by one side of the parking lot.

There was Liesel, standing near a pile of snow, looking down at what patterns had been dripped in by the icicles on the roof.

Kurt stepped next to her and she looked up at him before gesturing out to the line of cars slowly leaving the parking lot. “‘Tis the season for rush and consumerism,” she commented.

Kurt smiled at how her thoughts seemed to echo his. He wasn’t even imagining them this time. His cheeks heated at the reminder that he often day dreamed about her, and in less than honorable ways.

She looked back to him. “Do you do any Christmas shopping?”

“Ja,” he answered. “I have a few people; Father Connor, and a couple of friends that I used to work with.”

She smiled, and he felt his insides warm. “I wrap a lot of presents, but none of them are from me,” she told him. He lifted a brow, and she admitted, “I do gift wrapping for a department store. When I’m not working at Santa’s village, anyway.”

He smiled. “You must be very good at wrapping presents.”

She shrugged and looked away. “It’s the only thing I’m good at, aside from singing.” She stuffed her hands in her pockets and turned toward the parking lot. “My skills are only going to be useful for another few weeks, though,” she murmured softly.

Pain struck Kurt’s heart again; a few weeks were all he’d have with her. She’d leave after Christmas, he’d finish his training and be moved to his more permanent church, who knew where, and while she’d be able to return next year to sing, he would be unable to leave his post.

A slight panic filled him, clouding his judgment.

He’d never be able to see her again. He’d only have the cd she’d made, and the memories of her smile, eyes, lips, and body. And the agonizing need to touch himself as he thought of her every night.

Kurt’s hands reached out and took hold of her shoulders, pulling her closer to him.

Liesel looked up to him in surprise, only for her eyes to widen as his lips crashed into hers.

He was gentle, but insistent, his soft kiss asking her lips to open, and letting his tongue slide in when they did. His arms wrapped around her, his hand on her side as his other fingers tangled in her hair to hold her close.

Liesel had been kissed before, but she had always felt so nervous, worried that she’d react badly or straight up freak out because of the past, and she had ended up a mess, not really able to enjoy it much, but this... This was different.

He was soft and warm, insistent, but not demanding, asking, but not forcing, it felt good, he tasted good, and he knew how to kiss, which was surprising for a priest.

Liesel’s eyes sprang wide again in shock. Her hands rested against his chest and shoulder, having moved there on their own, and they didn’t want to leave. She wanted to keep kissing him, but- he was a priest! She was kissing a priest!

She was one of those women, a temptress to turn the holy into the wicked, leading the pure astray and dragging them to the depths of Hell.

Whore-

Devil’s plaything-

Jezebel-

She pulled back, her lips parted, her eyes wide in horror.

Kurt looked down at her, desire visible despite his cloaking contacts.

Liesel pushed back from him slowly, stepping back despite her body crying at the loss of his. She turned and ran down the sidewalk and around the edge of the building to the part of the parking lot where she had left her car.

Kurt stood, watching the direction she’d left, seeing her car pull out and speed off. His heart felt as though it had torn to small pieces.

What had he done?

The answer was very simple. He’d kissed Liesel.

The rest of the very simple answer was that he’d destroyed everything; she would never be able to feel safe or comfortable around him again, she’d never be able to trust him, she’d never be able to look him in the eye, he’d broken his vows again, now, making him a disgrace to the church and humanity, plus mutants… All his fault.

And he couldn’t help but wonder numbly; what had he done?

He'd destroyed everything.

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