#am so tired of my very rare fit of crying like that being kind of dismessed | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

arcadejohn127-9 · 3 years

Note

ALSO- I have a request! Brothers (+royals if you want) reacting to an MC who is extremely affectionate once they like someones- gives hugs, praises often, gives gifts, does their best to help when they can- but if any of this affection is returned they cry. Hard. Because they're emotionally constipated and any affection or love they receive overwhelms them- this also embarrasses them extremely-

Damn.... didn't think I'd feel called out by a prompt request XD it seems my time has come!

I'm guessing royals are Diavolo and barbatos so I added them but if you ever request again and someone you wanted wasn't here, feel free to comment and I'll make sure to add them

Brothers + Diavolo & barbatos with an overly affection MC with issues

Lucifer:

He grew use to your affection ways

The words of praise when you notice he finished a work load

Or when you'd pat his head when he was tired

At first he wondered why you would handle or touch him likes he's a fragile doll but he grew to love how gentle you were

Subconsciously he'd lean his head down whenever he completed a task expecting a head pat

Even if you weren't there but if he's caught he'll just pretend he was tired

Lucifer wasn't always the most affectionate, especially as he rarely shows how much he genuinely loves the people around them

He decided to return the gesture, you recently got a high grade in a class you were struggling in

He patted your head, giving it a light ruffle

"You did good, you're improving alot - it's very promising."

Didn't expect you to start crying, aggressively shoving away your tears

"what's wrong? Did something-"

"I just- this is embarassing- you patted my head and people don't really do that for me and I just-"

"Ah, I see, then I shall do it more often."

"even in public?"

He was never a public man, wanting to get his softer side hidden in the protection of his soul and the walls surrounding his room

But here you were, crying because he simply caressed your cheek

He wants you to be happy and feel as loved as he does

So he'll happily push his walls down for you

"if it means this much to you, then yes but let's keep it appropriate."

Mammon:

"How's my handsome super model?! Did it go well? Aww you look tired, let's get you rested, okay?"

He's so in love

No one has ever made him feel this mooshy and love sick and he's ANCIENT

He's use to his brothers always insulting him - he likes a good tease and making a rude remark about each other but they tend to push it

They hit his Insecurities and think he can handle it because they're demons

But he wasn't always

Then you came along, giving him head pats and words of praise

Always standing up for him

He fell for you so quickly and so hard

He basically turns into a puppy when he's with you

When you left with Satan to get groceries he had to be forced to not go with you, waiting at the stairs for you to come back

As soon as Satan left with even your bags included, he came bolting for you

Leaping into your arms and squeezed you tight, insisting he didn't miss you but just got bored

The way he's nuzzling your cheek says otherwise

When you began crying he immediately panicked

"Did Satan do something to ya?! I swear I'll beat-"

"I'm just not use to others being as affectionate as I am back to me - it's okay."

"Huh?! Well I guess the greatest demon of all time has to be that person, that's me! Don't forget it, okay?! I'm going to smother you."

Mammon is already a touchy person but knows to be respectful, since that day his hands are always on you

Either holding your hand, touching your shoulder, petting your hair or just Hugging you

Levithan:

Levithan isn't one to give or receive when it comes to affection

He tends to get overwhelmed by just a head pat and gets embarassed if his fingers accidentally brush against yours

You're an overly affectionate person

He's a simple man who needs self worth

It's definitely a good duo

You've learned to be more vocal about your praises and affections, still testing the waters with physical touch

But from time to time he'll ask to get a head pat if he's really proud of himself

Has made you call him your little pog champ

"Levi are you- oh sorry you're streaming- I'll just leave these here."

He was confused until he saw the section dish filled with different snacks with a energy drink in the middle

He almost teared up

"No! Stay with me, they'll like you!"

In an act of no thoughts and boldness, he pulled you into his lap

You fell awkwardly and was half straddling half on his side

As soon as you got comfortable you hide your face In his neck forcing back tears

Not wanting to cry on stream

"You're so sweet, levi, I'm sure your followers can agree."

He literally short circuited

Hiding his face in your shoulder as he got flustered

"You're sweeter than me, you're always being nice to me - I really lo- like you for that."

Anyone who watched that stream now ships you - the non believers didn't believe all the stories he told about you but now they had physical proof

That stream was re-upload so many times with comps filled with him gushing about you

Levithan is determined to make sure you never see them but it's too late and you cried with joy in your room

Next time you saw him you kissed his cheek and he immediately melted

Did kiss your cheek back though but did it so quick and harsh that you stumbled backwards

Satan:

Someone being gentle to him????

Someone who doesn't keep away from his because of his sin????

Who??? What??!!

You're the who! he was SHOCKED you were so happy to get close to him and just treat him so kindly

He made a theory on the Devildom detectives group that you're actually an angel but it backfired by demons just telling him he's got feelings for you

He does but he didn't expect to get called out on a whole forum

"You're really smart, thanks for always helping me with my studies - I've found It alot easier to study and remember all my notes now, you're a good teacher!"

He's so smitten with you

You could be saying the most disgusting or insulting thing and he'd still smile and nod

He needed help getting food for this secret but really not so secret pet cat and you gladly accepted to help him

When you two were just spending time together in his room and when suddenly picked up his cat

You didn't think too much of it but grinned when he booped the cats nose onto yours

"thank you for being so kind to me- it means alot."

the cat was like you; overly affectionate so it didn't surprise you when it started gently pawing at your face and giving you little kisses

"I feel embarrassed by admitting this so I'm letting Chaos show how I feel."

He avoided looking at you

It would be for the best as you started crying, taking the cat from his hold and kissing it's head repeatedly

"and that's how I feel about you trying to move through your discomfort and be open with me."

His cheeks are BURNING

Holds your hand throughout the rest of the hang out

Asmodeus:

You're being gentle and affection despite Everyone perceiving him as a sex hungry annoyance?

You're immediately his favourite - sorry Solomon

You always understood his protectiveness over his appearance

Fixing his hair and pushing back stands if you ever pet it

You didn't need to but you always told him you washed your hands before touching his face

You always did these simple things to make him feel at ease

But he loved your touch

No matter any comment he makes; he adores you and just being able to have these tender moments with you

He knew you were special to him when you walked in on him

Barely awake, hair messy, no makeup or moisturizer - he didn't look even the slightest bit appealing

And just smiled, looking at him no differently even when his voice came out tired and croaky

"You're really pretty even when you just wake up, it's so unfair - what's your secret?"

"because it's me, darling! I always look good~"

Internally, he was freaking out about how you liked him at what he deemed - his most unattractive state

So it only made sense he became more touchy and grew closer to you

"are you sure I look good in this? I know you're very up to date with fashion."

"You look stunning, I haven't seen a bad look on you yet, perhaps your charm is just as high as mine."

He was holding your hips, smiling as you both looked in the mirror

He wrapped his arms around you, leaning on your shoulder

"I think you look good all the time, you're just amazing like that."

You tried to hide your tears but he could see them, immediately asking you what's wrong

"Nothing- I just- that means alot coming from you and you're always being so affection towards me....its really nice."

He just hugs you tighter, smiling

"I just treat you how you treat me, you're a real angel."

Beezlebub:

This guy is worried about so many things

He's scared of hurting you

He's worried if he gets carried away with touching you he'll make you uncomfortable and his gluttony will act up; wanting more of your tender touch until he feels full

The last thing he wants is to make you uncomfortable or you feel forced to be affectionate to him because he could throw a fit

He's always ashamed of his hunger tantrums

But when he does do affection it's either carrying you or holding your hand

But was so happy whenever you cuddled hi against him or when you gave him praise

He could spend the whole day with you running your fingers through his hair, telling him he's a good demon and that he means something to you

"Can you finish this for me? I'm not feeling that hungry right now."

You offered your bowl to Beel, he happily took it

As you two spent time with each other he noticed you eyeing some of the more sweeter things set out on the table

He gently pushed it towards you

"Eat if you want it, I'll share."

You waved your hand, not wanting to take food from him

"I'm just snack-ish, I can't eat a meal right now."

You knew how hungry he could get and didn't want to leave him peckish

You knew that small feeling could easily turn into something bigger

But he just nudged it closer to you

"You eat what you want, I'll have what you don't finish."

You finally agreed, knowing he was insisting on you to eat with him

He patted your head, smiling as he watched you eat

"are you sure you won't still feel hungry?"

"you make me feel full, it soothes another type of hunger in me, it's nice."

He grabbed your hand, nuzzling his cheek against it, he couldn't stop smiling as you just looked at him in surprise

You finally grinned, tearing up and shook your head, you leaned against him and continued eating

Gripping his hand tighter as you pushed back your tears

Belphegor:

He was spoilt

Beel was always looking after him, helping him get ready for school and drying his hair, carrying him around when he was too tired to walk

And you were only fueling his spoilt nature

You always showered him in affection

Petting his hair whilst he laid his head on your lap, combed his tail, told him he looked cute

"My precious little belphie, are you feeling okay? I noticed you were struggling to sleep today at lunch."

Whilst he believed he looked intimidating with his heavy bags and sleepy grin

You found him adorable, treating him like a sweet innocent boy on those special nights of just you two cuddling

It's been a long time since he's felt innocent

You were always checking in on him

Making him feel special and cared for

He was a soft mess in your hands

"Hold me more, your hands feel so nice~"

He placed his hands on yours, making you gently squish his cheeks

"Don't you wanna cuddle?"

He raised a brow, a smug smile growing on his face

"it seems you want to."

"we don't have to-"

"If you wanna be held just ask, I'm more than happy to hold you."

He wrapped his arms around you, shifting his position and buried his face into your chest, humming as your hands ran through his hair

He gave you a small squeeze

"It feels good to be the one hugging you, you're always so comfy~"

He began murmuring how much he loves this time with you, drifting to sleep as he praised you, letting himself mindlessly go on about how wonderful and sweet you are until he started to snore

You let your tears fall

Holding him closer as you softly thanked him for his words

He just hugged you tighter in his sleep, his smile growing

UNDATEABLES↓

Diavolo:

This man is TOUCH STARVED

the fact you're unafraid to be with him and around him is already amazing but you freely hold his hand and pat his head

He thinks he's knocked his head and been taken to the celestial realm

People are intimidated by his title as prince and having you so care free in his company is new for him

So of course he enjoys how affectionate you are!

He embraces all your touches and praise!

He's even had you sitting on his lap during meetings, letting you hug him after a tiring day of studying

"You did great today, I really felt your passion for this new project, I think the students will really enjoy it!"

He gets so happy everytime you even look his way

Your smile alone fuels him for the whole day

"Meet me in the castle today, there's something I need you to do for me."

You agreed, not thinking much of it; most likely a new update on the school fair

What you didn't expect was to be greeted by shopping bags and gift boxes and even a human sized teddy bear with demon horns, you tried to ignore them as Diavolo came jogging down the steps

"What did you need me for?"

"I want you to see what you like, I bought as much as I could before Barbatos stopped me, I hope they're up to your liking."

You were speechless

You felt as if you touched the gifts you wouldn't be able to hold back; you were excited to see what he got but you didn't want to seem too excited

"Please, go ahead - it's all yours unless something is not up to your liking."

You finally went through the shopping bags; there was clothes, products, jewelry, shoes and all other sorts of items

You hugged the giant close to your chest, choking back on your tears

"thank you-"

"No need to thank me, you're always so kind to me I just wanted to return the favour."

Barbatos:

You were a like a breath of fresh air, someone he could just go to

He can unwind and be rewarded for his efforts and others normally don't notice

Whilst his lord was always praising him, it felt different with you

It felt so joyful

You would brush through his hair, always thank him even if he's just doing his job and always seem to be in awe at what he does

He'll never forget the gloves you gave him, sleek and a perfect fit with a cursive 'B' stitched to the edge - they were enchanted to warm up whenever he got cold

"Wow! You prepared all this?! That must of taken you ages! You're really amazing, Barb."

"I'm simply doing my job but your praise makes it all worth it."

Often invites you to the castle for tea

He'll make any excuse to have you come see him; the prince wants to talk, he wants a hand with a recipe, he needs an outsider's opinion on something

Whatever he can come up with; he will use it

You might as well just stay in one of the guest bedrooms because you're always coming to the castle

Speaking of excuses; today Barbatos decided to thank your lovely behaviour

Convincing you to come to the castle and meet him in the dining hall

"I saw you eyeing some recipes whilst helping me in the kitchen so, I made you them AND wrote down how I did it exactly so you can make them any time you like."

"I- you didn't have to do that! Thank you for this, they look delicious."

"I always wanted to give you this."

You couldn't even ask what it was

He already held it up for you to see

It was a box of gloves with your the first letter of your name stitched onto the edge

They were heat up gloves!

"I thought you'd appreciate your own as they'll always be handy but the gesture of matching with someone you're close to is very appealing."

He helped you put the gloves on, pinching the tip of your fingers to make sure they fitted properly

He held your hand, admiring how it looked in his

You couldn't stop a few tears forming, smiling

You felt abit silly crying over heat up gloves but you couldn't help it

"I want to match with you more often, perhaps one day it'll end up being a ring."

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mid-weast · 3 years

Text

Will you keep it down? | Jeon Jungkook

Summary: You and Jungkook attend the same university and have been neighbors for 3 months now. It drives you crazy that he plays loud music at 2AM, and it drives him crazy that you barely acknowledge his presence.

Pairing: Jungkook x Female!Reader; Black!Reader

Words: 2.6K

Genre: enemies to lovers, student!jungkook, student!reader, fluff, mention of smut, angst? (in the form of bickering back and forth).

Authors note: Hi hi! This is the first fic I’ve ever written so if it’s bad I’m sorry. Also it is unedited so if there's grammar / spelling mistakes I'm sorry again! Also this is catered toward the reader being Black but I hope it can be enjoyed by everyone. Thank you for reading! Feedback is appreciated ok love u bye!

“Y/N? ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME??!? Open this door RIGHT NOW!”

Even though you were studying in your room, his knocks were so loud you nearly jumped out of your skin. You had expected a reaction, but not a full-on explosion.

You and Jungkook have been apartment neighbors for about three months now, and a constant problem is that he blares his music hella loud late at night. Of course he’s a music major so he listens to music a lot, but at this point you don’t care. It doesn’t even seem like he’s working on composition homework anyway, just being an asshole with no regard for his neighbors peace. Now don’t get yourself wrong, you're not just some uptight bitch who complains about everything. Well, you do have several pet peeves but over the years of going to school in Korea you’ve picked and chosen your battles very wisely. In most cases you let things slide. You wouldn’t care at all about someone playing the music loudly, but it is 2 AM, and while you’re up studying you know a lot of your other neighbors are trying to sleep.

You tiptoe toward your front door and twist the knob slowly. You only open the door wide enough to be able to see his face. It’s not that you’re scared that you’re in danger or anything, and you rarely back down from people giving you a hard time. But you were tired, wearing a big ass t- shirt and short shorts (your regular sleep attire), and it was late at night. So if anything was going to pop off you felt pretty vulnerable. Even though you’re the same age, he towers over you and you find his size kinda intimidating.

As usual, you have to crane your neck to see his face, and your view of him is limited by the narrowness in which

you opened the door.

“Can I help you, lil boy?”

From what you can see of him, right away you can tell that he is pissed. Dawning his usual attire of a black sweatshirt with the hood up, black sweats, and stomp a hoe boots, he stood extremely close to your apartment door with his arms crossed. His usually wide, puppy dog eyes are now pressed in narrow slits. His normally pouty lips are formed in a hard line, and his jaw is so clenched you could carve an ice sculpture with his jawline.

"Who the hell do you think you are? You called the cops on me? Are you INSANE???" Jungkook shouts.

Obviously he's mad, and despite the amount of times you've gone back and forth he's never raised your voice at you. The old you would have screamed back at him, but over time you've tried to respond to anger with calmness. Also, you were a little scared because this mf is kind of big.

"I already told you if you keep blaring your music at 2AM, I was going to do something about it!" You respond in a hushed whisper, slightly concerned that your elderly neighbors will be even more disturbed by the noise. "I've told you this a million times, and you barely do anything about it. If anything, it's gotten worse like you're doing it on purpose. People are trying to sleep and I'm trying to study, why is this so hard for you to understand?"

He sucks his teeth. "You're such a little snitch. And I've already told YOU that YOU can't tell me what to do."

"I know I can't...but they can," you nod toward the exit, referring to the police officers that most likely just left out that way with a tiny smirk growing on your face.

If it was possible, he clenched his jaw even harder and you think that he's going to pop a blood vessel. He pushes his way into your apartment, which sends you stumbling back and you grab the door handle to regain your balance. This causes you to close the door shut.

"Hey! What the hell do you think you're-"

He steps right up to you and leans down into your face.

"Who the fuck do you think you are, seriously??? Why are you such an annoying little brat? Just because you're a nerd with no friends who gets no play doesn't mean you can take your bitterness out on me.”

You have to laugh in his face at this point because hello??? First of all, who is he talking to? Second of all, you have told him a BUNCH of times to turn his music down late at night. You didn't think that was too much to ask. As far as you were concerned, being aware of your noise level when you live in an apartment is the universal bare minimum for being a human being.

"ME? Who do you think YOU are? Actually let me tell you. You're an entitled little rich boy who thinks he runs the world. I don't give a fuck about how popular you are on campus, how many people fall at your feet to be around you, and how many hoes you have, you cant talk to ME like that. And how are you going to try and tell me about myself when it's too much of a task for you to be a decent neighbor? I've never done anything to blatantly bother you, so why can you just.." You started to panic because usually when you raise your voice out of anger, your voice cracks and tears threaten to pool out of your eyes, but you tried to get a grip and not back down..."why can you just be nice to me so we can live in peace? Is that too hard for you???"

He looked kind of taken aback by your question. Being nice to you? It never crossed his mind. Also, you kind of had a point. When the semester started and you both moved in on the same day, you would shoot him a small, friendly smile in passing but you never seemed interested in getting to know him. He always wondered why that was. It's not that he had a problem talking with girls, since all he had to do was breathe and girls would come flocking around him, but you would flat out ignore him. Even at all the major parties at the beginning of the year and on Thursday nights when students take over the clubs in the city, you'd barely even acknowledge him. He KNEW that you had seen him too, since you would make eye contact, but you acted like he was just another guy at the club.

And he'd be lying if he said you weren't fine. You had thick thighs, a beautiful face, nice curves, and always wore outfits that hugged you in the right places. He always wondered what it would feel like to wrap his arms around your body and press it against his own. He would constantly sneak peaks of you throughout the night at the club, but something stirred in him when he saw that you were chatting up other guys. Was he...jealous? Jealous that you were so eager to pay attention to these dudes who, in his opinion, were decent looking but they were nowhere near his level, and you never even gave him a second thought? One night he even saw you leaving with a man he knew through mutual friends, and he had to physically stop himself from breaking the glass he was holding, because that guy, while objectively handsome, was nothing compared to him. Jungkook wasn't blatantly cocky, but he let his talent, charm, and looks speak for themselves. He was THEE Jeon Jungkook, and nothing ever really bothered him....except you.

Was he....interested in you? Nah, that can't be it. You were some random chick who happened to be his neighbor, who also is one of the only girls he's met that doesn't give two fucks about even having small talk with him, and that infuriated him for some reason. So the first time you came knocking on his door in an adorable pink satin pajama set with a matching bonnet complaining about his loud music, he knew the game he had to play.

He's still standing over you, centimeters away from you face, but you notice that his eyes soften a little and so does his jaw. He unclenches the fists he was holding crossed against his chest

You continue, “I don't care what you do, and I'm DEFINITELY trying to run your messy ass life. Believe me," you scoff, "you don't have enough money to pay me to do that. But when your dickhole behavior fucks with MY life is when it's a problem. And it's BEEN a problem."

He rolls his eyes. "Whatever, little girl, maybe I should call you little mouse now, since now I know that you'll go squeaking to the cops now, don't fuck with me or my music again.”

Without moving your head you look him up and down with a confused expression. "Am I supposed to be scared of you? No seriously, you look like you cry during Disney movies while wearing footie pajamas, and now here you are throwing a fit because I forced you to stop bothering the entire wing with your music?"

Girl...what are you saying??? This man just barged into YOUR place, is in your face, and is strong enough to pick you up and throw you, and you’re insulting him? But you figured if he's going to be rude, you'll throw it right back because you're tired of his bullshit.

Whatever softness he was feeling for a fleeting moment immediately left, and annoyance once again washed over. He straightens up a bit and puts on that annoying confident smirk he wears when he thinks he's won arguments between you two.

"You should be nicer to me, all it will take is for me to tweet one thing about you, and you'll be the most hated person on campus."

At this point, any suspicions that you had about him annoying you on purpose were confirmed. You've concluded that this mf is a bully and you, small and shy but not one to take mess, will put him in his place to-motherfucking-night.

You take a step toward him, now crossing your arms tightly against your chest, but he doesn't even move a hair backwards.

"Clearly you need a rude awakening so here it is. I don't know what type of people you've dealt with all your life, always saying yes to you, letting you boss them around and taking whatever bullshit you dish out, but let me tell you I am not the one. Never have been and never will be. Unlike the other fools around here who cream their pants at the mention of your name, I don't care about who you are. You'll respect ME and MY peace as long as we're neighbors, you get me?"

Now y/n, you have never so boldly stood up to someone, where did that come from, babes? You've tried to not let this entitled little boy get to you this whole time, but with him standing in front of you in the middle of your apartment with that extremely annoying, yet handsome, smirk on his face, and after all the crap he's said tonight, he had you all the way fucked up.

After you said that, he just laughed and looked away. Now you’re standing there fuming and confused...was there a joke you missed? You were being dead serious!

"Something funny?" you ask, narrowing your eyes.

"Nothing, just thinking about how I want to face fuck that annoying little mouth of yours so you finally shut up.”

Your jaw almost dropped to the floor. You've never had a guy say something so blatantly rude and vulgar literally inches away from your face. But again, you weren't going to back down.

"Oh really?" Scoffing and tilting your head to the side a bit while narrowing your eyes even more, "I'd very much like to do the same. Maybe then you'll learn your place."

"Oh please, princess, you probably blanch when someone around you even mentions the word sex." He chuckles and leans down close toward your face again and cocks his head to the side, scrunching his nose and in a pouty voice said, "you're fooling no one, but keep trying, maybe you'll get there.”

You're even more annoyed than you were before, if that was even possible. But if he wanted to play this game, you might as well go there with him. It's true, you were a bit more prudent than more, but it pissed you off that he could tell. Regardless, you do know some things to say that could have him leaving with his tail between his legs.

You pouted your lips and in a babying tone said, “Aww sweetheart you have no idea. You think you're big and bad but like I said, you probably cry watching Disney movies. The same way you'd be crying, begging me to let you cum down my throat as I mercilessly toy with your cock for hours.”

Now it's his turn to go pale. Y/n, his stuck up neighbor who has barely even spared him five seconds of her time just threatened to edge him into submission? He has to pinch himself because he must be dreaming....

“Well I-“

“But I don't even think we’d make it that far, hun” you continue, “because in order to humble your egotistical, disrespectful ass, I'm gonna have to ride your face until you suffocate. And when the paramedics come and I have to explain how you died, I won't even hesitate to tell them that you were a punk ass loser who LITERALLY drowned in my pussy!”

You don’t know who this person speaking is, but it is not you. All of the pent up hostility you’ve held towards him just flooded out of you and you couldn’t stop the words from coming out. To be honest you shocked yourself, but you still stood there with your arms crossed and your face unfaltering, just waiting for him to say something smart back.

He stared at you silently, eyes wider than you’ve seen before and his mouth hung slightly open. He wasn’t expecting you to respond with so much fire, but now he wouldn’t be able to sleep until the image you painted came true. His brain said fuck it, and his lips crashed down onto yours. The kiss is sloppy but passionate, and you swore you heard him quietly whimper.

When he feels you starting to kiss back, he smirks into the kiss. Your lips are moving against each other in tandem, and all thoughts about how much you despise the prick fades away. As you uncrossed your arms and placed them on his chest, you could feel his heart beating wildly. Was he as nervous as you were this whole time? You wonder. You knew he was a player, so he was experienced. But the thought that you made him nervous gave you a tiny confidence boost. His hands slowly slide up the sides of your body to sneak behind your back, to pull you further into his chest. As much as your brain was telling you to resist him and push him away, you couldn't help but fall victim to how soft his lips felt against yours. Suddenly you feel airborne as he swiftly reaches down behind your thighs and picks you up. You instinctively gasp but he doesn’t miss a beat, simply biting your lower lip and locking your lips together again.

“Maybe we should test that scenario of yours, and if it comes true, that wouldn’t be the worst way for me to go” he says, doing that annoying but soul-crushingly handsome smirk he likes to wear as he carries you off to your bedroom.

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sailorhyunjinz · 3 years

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I always wonder how skz would react to an s/o with a LARGE SEX DRIVE SHSBDBS idk like guys r usually super horny but imagine if u were hornier than them HAHA

BRRRAH QUICK REACTION POST!

warnings: mostly dom!skz x gn!reader. impact play, nicknames, hickies, masturbation, exhibitionism, overstimulation, slight dacryphilia, sex toys, daddy kink, riding, degradation, dumbification.

Bangchan:

The thing is not that he wouldn’t like it,,, more like he would be tired?

Sure,,, he has good stamina but he would more prefer longer sex sessions that are more intimate and romantic rather than a bunch of quickies.

but thats like... 95% of the time, the remaining 5% is dicking you down so hard you won’t be able to walk because “you asked for it, you dumb fuck”

BUT THATS RARE

you would really have to get him worked up in order for that to work

and even then he would only go for maybe 2 rounds

“c-chan... one more time~” you said after cumming for the third time that night. “y/n, arent you sleepy?” he says, chuckling. you shake your head, “just one more time!” you say all giddy to which bangchan sighed.

Minho:

ok now hear me out, im not gonna mix astrology in here,,, but i am going to mix astrology in here lmao

this boy a scorpio

a scorpio

meaning his intimate parts rule over his body (JUST SAYING TAKE IT OR LEAVE IT)

so he loves this. A LOT

any opportunity to be inside of you he’ll take

he’s hella horny and would like a s/o that matches that aura so HEY! fits perfectly (thats what she said)

show any sign of a sexual act and he wont hesitate to slam you against a table

legit as small as licking a lollipop

“stop that unless you want my dick in your throat” he says, not even looking up from his phone as the sounds of you sucking a lollipop fills the room. you don’t stop, no, you go even harder. he looks up from his phone. “is that a yes?”

Changbin:

ahh... binnie binnie is head over heals for this

he finds it extremely hot that you initiate the sex most of the time

it shows that you really want him

and he likes attention and feeling appreciated so this works

also has kind of a firey attitude

meaning that he gets worked up real quick

just like minho it doesnt take much for him to notice your sexual signs

“binnie~ i need you” you whisper in his ear as he’s working on something on his computer. you drag your lips across his neck and nibble on his ear before he turns around and glares at you with dark eyes. “princess/prince wanna play that game huh?”

Hyunjin:

shy to initiate so this makes it easier for him

his stamina is relativly high

but i feel like there would be kiiind of a gap between the two of you since he’d be completely exhausted after a couple of rounds but you beg for more.

leaving him with no other choice but to give it to you

since he loves you too much to say no ><

i feel like he’d make fun of you for it

LMAO I DONT KNOW WHY BUT JUST HE’D FIND IT FUNNY THAT YOU’RE ALWAYS SO DESPERATE

“hyunjin,, please!” you says in the nicest tone you could muster but only being mocked by hyunjin copying you in an annoying voice

“HyUnJiiinNn~” you burst into laughter, hitting him playfully on the shoulder. “thats what you sound like y/n!!”

but nah most of the time he will take it but always with some playfulness first.

Jisung:

HORNY TEENAGER JISUNG AGENDA

all the time

no matter where or when

some of yall are about to be real mad at me but it must be said HASHAHAH STOP CHER STOP

he just gives me this hormonal teenager vibe

and so there’s a lot of fucking in a lot of unconventional places

simply because his angel wants it

it even borders to him being even hornier than you but you find joy in that

you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve caught him watching porn or masturbating BECAUSE IT HAPPENED OFTEN

and everytime it would lead to heated sex that could last for hours

“h-help me y/n! dont just stand there s-staring” he says, blushing a bit as he openly strokes his dick infront of you. you shrug your shoulders, closing the bedroom door and inching closer to the warm boy.

Felix:

tough one to read... hmmm....

honestly he wouldn’t mind

sure he’d be tired

and therefore he’d rather prefer seeing you ride a dildo or something

because then you’re satisfied and he doesnt have to do much

NOT THAT HE’S LAZY

just that he likes to cuddle and chill more than being inside of you all the time

he’s sensitive which has its pros and cons

pro: easy to get horny

con: easily overstimulated

WHICH SURE you’d find it fun to torture him by keeping him cumming over and over again

but poor boy would be crying in the end

which only added to your horniness OOP

“y/n,, s-stop please im begging you,, ahhgh..” he moans from underneath you, you putting him through his fourth orgasm which is causing him to shake and cry as you didn’t stop riding him. “mhm... but I wanna cum once more, not fair... you can cum so many times but I can’t! be a good boy and shut up, maybe i’ll let you go after this round”

Seungmin:

giving me that same energy that chan has

but this time instead of 95:5 its more like 65:35

meaning 65% romantic puppy that wants to take his time with you, roaming his hands all over your body and really connecting with you

and the other 35% well... more like relentless pounding, all covered in love bites and hand prints (im drooling)

he becomes all hard dom when he’s stressed and soo...

you get him stressed which ok you feel bad about but... he gets to release all his stress (and cum) on you and you get what you want

DING DING DING! win-win situation!!

so yeah he would like it most of the time especially when you’re stressed and especially when you’re a brat

turning him on by rubbing on his lap but running away the next second

he likes to make you obey rather than you already obeying.

he was watching tv peacefully when you suddenly plopped down on his lap, starting to squirm about when watching a tv show. he held you down by the waist. “shh stop” he says once with a bitter tone but you didn’t listen, only continuing to move and feeling his member getting harder. “Is d-daddy getting hard?” you coo at him with a mischievous voice to which seungmin sighed, his hands snaking around your upper body and wrapping around your neck, pushing your back against his chest. “little fucker wanna play with daddy”

oml why did this become so aggressive i have a lot of pent up sexual frustration ASHASHS

Jeongin:

he’d find it really hot in the beginning

but what he didn’t realise was how tiring sex is

yk teenagers! learning as they go (i like how im talking about this as if im older than him LMAO)

catch his search history being: “is it normal to have sex everyday”

he’d be sore :((

and when he told you that he probably needed to just cuddle he felt bad because he always wanted to please you

but the two of you would find your ways around it

vibrators EHHEHE

especially those remote control ones

he’d just go ham with those I KNOW IT

because just like felix, you’d be satisfied and he could chill for the time being

beg pretty enough and he’ll give you the real thing

“b-but i need you now jeongin! stop with that fucking controller!!” you try to snatch it out of his hand but fail. “say please” he says, looking at you with sweet brown eyes. “pl-pleaseeee~!” he melts into a puddle of blushes as he speaks “alright but only because you’re a good one”

HEY THIS WAS SO MUCH FUN WRITING!! send in sum more, i’ll make them into short reactions like these because my requests for the “official” reactions is closed (will probably open shortly) but YEEEAH

thank u anon for your very very smart brain and for requesting HEH ><

also this is not proof read so ignore any mistakes OOP

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wildsunscorpion · 3 years

Text

How Bum Geon Woo communicates through his body language (Plus how he's actually giving the special treatment Eui Joon's been yearning for)

I reread DCS for, like, the tenth time now. Yes, I'm obsessed ohmygod! I'm liking how these two characters are written so far. I originally wanted to break down just Chapters 20-24 of DCS because the first time I read it I got just a little annoyed with how Geon Woo (a.k.a. Ahjussi) was, let's say, just kind of pushing Euijoon's limits. But I ended up doing more than just Chapters 20-24. Dios mio.

I was just a little tired of seeing the same trend with guys in manhwa. They always seem to be domineering, especially if their partner is the "sweet and naive" archetype. (Eui Joon, I think, does not really fit into this mold.) Of course, that's usually because they're dealing with their own issues, and I don't really blame them.

But I like DCS because it justified that kind of behavior in Geon Woo when he was having sex with Eui Joon (in Chapters 20-24, particularly). Lol I'm probably the only one who realized this later than I should have ehehe. I'm still posting this tho.

WARNING: SPOILERS AHEAD‼️‼️

His antics speak volumes. It's amazing how I missed all those details just because the sex scenes were. Steamy. As. Fuck. Good lordy! Geon Woo is definitely a man of few words (He once said Eui Joon makes him talk like he would for a whole year, haha!), so it would make sense to communicate whatever's going through his mind in a situation through body language.

I also want to add the times that he makes the effort to hold a conversation with Eui Joon. Geon Woo doesn't really talk when he doesn't need to, so it's important to pay attention to his actions.

☙ ☙ ☙ ☙ ☙

Chapters 0-12

The first time we get a glimpse of Geon Woo's side of the story was when Eui Joon finally confesses to the person who's been his crush for 3 effing years, Hyeon Woo. Eui Joon is inexplicably happy when Hyeon Woo says he'll consider and comes to the convenience store in good spirits. Geon Woo, keen as always, notices, and when Eui Joon tells him what happened this is what we get:

It's the way it was framed. How we see his reaction from behind rather than from the front. He turns away, seeming to go inward and brood once again.

Afterwards, another gangster comes. The guy challenges Geon Woo for taking too long at the front of the line. Geon Woo asks Eui Joon if he smokes, and when he replies that he doesn't, Geon Woo "borrows" the lighter on the countertop and uses that to throw a stronger punch to the man behind him, who temporarily falls unconscious. Geon Woo turns back to Eui Joon, seeming to have something else to say. But he sees the frightened look on Eui Joon's face and decides to keep it to himself before leaving through the door.

"And..." He pauses, turning to Eui Joon. "... Never mind. Good work."

JUST WHAT WAS HE ABOUT TO SAY?!?!?!

In the succeeding panel, Eui Joon is nonplussed. He wonders out loud, "What is happening?" Couldn't have said it better, girl. Geon Woo was just taking out his frustration and he had the perfect opportunity at the moment.

The second time was when Geon Woo invites Eui Joon to drink after the incident with Hyeon Woo (who basically asks Eui Joon to cheat with him and inebriates him—probably with the intention to take advantage of him). From the side stories, we learn that Geon Woo has taken an interest in Eui Joon after seeing him for the second time, and when he comes by through the hallway—finally discovering they were neighbors—and witnesses the two, he sees it as a chance with Eui Joon.

He invites Eui Joon out to drink, after Eui Joon's suggestion for a dinner at 2 in the morning fails to entice him. Eui Joon rambles his questions away, wanting to get to know him better, but Geon Woo doesn't immediately answer and catches him off guard when he "casually" inquires after his sexuality. Not the smoothest move there, lol, but in the side stories we see that wasn't really his intention.

"Damn it, why did I ask that question? It just slipped out..."

He answers Eui Joon's questions afterwards, surprising Eui Joon with the fact that he's actually been listening to what he's been saying for the past minute. We're starting to see just what kind of a person he is (Listening skills are always a plus in my book).

A little later, we see them on their way back to the apartment. Eui Joon asks Geon Woo to tell him anything interesting because he's been the one talking all night. Geon Woo acquiesces, asking a question that may have been part in consideration of Eui Joon's vulnerable state, and perhaps also part due to the possibility that he worried about him.

"Come to think of it... School has already started. Isn't it tiring to work 'til dawn? Aren't you working too much?"

Geon Woo's face is a little hard to read. So every subtle change in his expression says something. If you read the manhwa, you'll see the slightest bit of concern in his eyes. It's hard to catch until you've read the side stories (at least for me, haha).

One more thing I like about Geon Woo is that he doesn't meddle when it's not his business. He knows the state of Eui Joon's family—their inability to afford his college tuition, his hospitalized brother—and he knows he can help. I mean, I don't know how wealthy and powerful he is as a gangster but he probably has the means to. But he rarely opens the topic to Eui Joon.

Aaaand onto Chapter 8! Just before the first sex scene in the entire series. Eui Joon is crying because he had a shitty day both at school and at work, poor thing—all because of Hyeon Woo. He cries even more when he notices that Geon Woo, who came to the store every day, didn't come to the store that day. When he encounters him outside, he breaks down, catching Geon Woo off guard.

Geon Woo tells his lackey to leave and asks Eui Joon to stay. Eui Joon tells him he was fine and proceeds to go back to his room, but Geon Woo frightens him when he says he was already being nice. And then we get this:

"Ah, I don't mean it that way... Just a while."

That gentle tug is honestly so uncharacteristic of the usual ruffian behavior we often see from Geon Woo. It's a nice sweet detail that proves what he says in Chapter 26 (when he finally confesses) that he treats Eui Joon differently from others.

Eui Joon cries his heart out to Geon Woo, and Geon Woo just lets him. Afterwards, Eui Joon resolves to forget about Hyeon Woo. By finding someone, hmm, more physically endowed.

"I must find someone more good-looking than him. With a nicer body... And a bigger dick!"

Clueless guy basically described the man beside him.

To that, Geon Woo says:

"How long have you known me? You really dare to say anything like that in front of me?"

Which comes off as slightly hostile at first. The next panel shows a dark aura surrounding Geon Woo, which Eui Joon interprets as distress from his implications of doing it with him—whose sexual preference so far remains ambiguous (In the side stories, we learn that Geon Woo himself struggles with figuring this out.). But then, he surprises Eui Joon when he slowly leans in to kiss him.

CUE SEX SCENE! I pitied Eui Joon a little because he wasn't really in the best state when Geon Woo offered this. In Geon Woo's defense, though, from the moment he found out that Eui Joon was gay he saw doors opening. When Eui Joon said something like that, I think his attraction to Eui Joon finally caught up to him and he couldn't resist the opportunity. He definitely wasn’t distressed by the implication of Eui Joon’s words; he was distressed by the decision he had to make—to go through that door or not. Because he knew he wanted it, even though he was constantly denying it from the start.

“This dirty thought wasn’t something that I have planned from the beginning.”

The day after, Eui Joon is a little rattled. He doesn’t know how to treat Geon Woo after that—not when he realized that sex could be that hot and satisfying (uwu). Geon Woo appears to be unaffected while Eui Jon’s brain is in knots about everything. But the questions Geon Woo asks tell us that he’s beginning to show Eui Joon a little emotion. He asks to see Eui Joon’s face to inspect the healing bruise he got yesterday (the one that Geon Woo covered with a bandaid—which was so sweet, huhu). And then, he asks if he was tired after school.

“Let me see your face.”

“School classes. Are you tired after taking them?”

From my perspective, he wasn’t just asking for the sake of being nice to the person he slept with. The story still hasn’t covered much of Geon Woo’s history to know whether he had been like this with his previous partners. Although there was a moment in Chapter 27 during one of their conversations when he gave us a little glimpse:

Geon Woo: It's normal to cry over pathetic things at your age. Eui Joon: Have you cried like that before too? Geon Woo: No. Eui Joon: Then how do you know that? Geon Woo: I just... know. Because there was a guy like that around.

From the time Geon Woo invited him out to drink, I think Geon Woo was genuinely concerned when he asked how Eui Joon was doing.

☙ ☙ ☙ ☙ ☙

Chapters 13-26

Geon Woo's love language, I think, is his actions. He fights off the gangsters that bully Eui Joon into giving them discounts or even paying for them from his own pockets so they won't have to. He gives Eui Joon food and medicine when he finds out he was sick (the morning after having sex with him in the car for hours, lol). He likes taking care of the person he likes. So in Chapter 26, when he "confesses" to Eui Joon, that was Geon Woo pointing out that he's been doing the same thing all along.

"I mean, look at me just once... What kind of person I am. How I treat you. Take a good look at it. If you think that I'm good, then pick me. If not, you can throw me aside." "But. Before you do, you should understand this. Until then, I don't intend to let you get away."

This "non-confession" (he actually tells Eui Joon it wasn't a confession) actually says a lot about Geon Woo. His attitude towards their relationship is very blunt and straightforward. Once he's made a decision, he stops listening to his doubts and stands by it. I don't really know when Geon Woo decided that he liked Eui Joon. It was more slow-growing. In the side stories though, we see him considering this big-time when this thought crosses his mind:

"There's the common phrase of having the opportunity to meet your fateful love. If there's a sign for it, would it be possible to stay vigilant?"

AHJUSSI YOU SOFT-HEARTED ROMANTIC I CAN'T T^T He becomes more bold with Eui Joon afterwards, but he's still a little prickly. He's constantly weighing his options, trying to figure out in what way will doing the things he does for Eui Joon benefit him, if at all. In Chapter 13, when a customer comes inside the store and forces Eui Joon to pay for what he bought, he's on the scales. But then the memory of that morning flashes through his mind, and he remembers how the simple act of Eui Joon giving him his number had made him smile like an idiot. He beats the customer for him, taking the money he owed, and gives it back to Eui Joon. He even manages to casually ask him out on a date. The guy can be smooth as fuck.

Eui Joon: Are you saying... we should eat together? Geon Woo: Sure. I guess I've done something worth compensating. Will you give me my reward?

Take notes, people! At this point, Eui Joon has gotten him wrapped around his finger, and he didn't even know it! Of course, Eui Joon still thinks their relationship is only purely sexual, but then Geon Woo begins doing these uncharacteristically tender gestures that Eui Joon initially interprets as Geon Woo giving him special treatment.

"Let me see your face." "School classes. Are you tired after them" "I'm thinking that... You'll look good in short hair, too."

And Geon Woo even tries to initiate a conversation with Eui Joon when he feels like Eui Joon couldn't take the awkwardness. A good example was when Geon Woo treats him dinner at the restaurant.

"...." "Is this your first time coming to this kind of place?"

Somehow, these things he does still feel kind of forced, like he was genuinely annoyed at Eui Joon and everything he did. Even when he asks to do it with him again and Eui Joon refuses because he was still sore, there was a moment of frustration that shone through.

It was a sign that Geon Woo was still confused about the things he was feeling towards Eui Joon. He knew he wanted him physically, but then he doesn't take up the woman's offer that evening after Eui Joon refuses him. It wasn't actually written on paper, but knowing Geon Woo's character he might have felt uneasy about going through with it. Not particularly on Eui Joon's behalf, but it may have been unconscious because of his budding feelings.

His feelings were something that rattled him, and he was usually undeterred in any kind of situation. What rattled him more was that Eui Joon didn't know anything about what he was going through.

"Being naturally attracted to you, and going through unfamiliar emotions. This feeling should only be felt at an adolescent age."

We're seeing him from behind again. The use of this perspective in manhwas / mangas / comics usually makes you feel like can't tell what the character's thinking about, but most importantly that they're most likely about to go do or SAY SOMETHING DAMN IMPORTANT. Like, maybe, telling their feelings to the person they like!?!?!

"Eui Joon-Ah. I like you."

ASDFGHJKL DID ANYONE SEE THAT COMING?!?!?!

That actually surprised me hella lot. I'd originally thought Geon Woo was the tsundere type, but he was more honest with his feelings than I believed. However, he hadn't been completely convinced by these feelings until Eui Joon had offered to break it off. Suddenly there was an exit to his situation, but he didn't really feel happy about it. He was frustrated at not being able to properly understand what his words made him feel. Because the truth was he didn't want to break things off. He just wouldn't admit to himself at the time that the reason was he actually wanted Eui Joon.

We could see him debating it himself, poor thing:

"I didn't expect myself to be in a situation where I couldn't even understand my own feelings. I should've figured it out the moment I couldn't understand my sexual preference. I'm not that young anymore... What is this?" "No... It could also be a spur of the moment... It doesn't seem to be like that. It might also be due to pride, but I feel it's not necessary for these kinds of feelings to affect my pride... But even when it's like this, I still want to..."

Geon Woo decides to "have a little fun" before conceding to Eui Joon's request to "end their entanglement". But I've noticed that whenever something bothers Geon Woo too much, he takes a smoke. When Eui Joon makes the suggestion, Geon Woo does just that.

The slightly rough way in which Geon Woo treats him afterwards shows his frustration. He grabs his arm roughly and pulls him towards the car, but he doesn't realize he was hurting Eui Joon's wrist with his own watch until Eui Joon whines in pain—at which point Geon Woo just laces his hand through his instead. Which I thought was so sweet T^T

When Eui Joon freaks out about doing it at the school where he studies and asks Geon Woo to consider it for him, Geon Woo says, "Do I have to consider that for you too?" And when Eui Joon asks for him to do that, Geon Woo replies, "I guess I've been too nice to you." THE MAN WAS FREAKING FRUSTRATED!!! Geon Woo even challenges him to stay quiet, telling him no one will hear them if he does. Throughout the whole thing, Geon Woo wanted to dominate him, daring him to take what pleasure he could give him, but with an aggression that bespeaks the storm in his heart and mind. Reading it back, I realized just how damn hot that scene was. I mean, goddamn. After Geon Woo admits his feelings, there's a serenity about him afterwards. He no longer has to second-guess taking care of Eui Joon or expressing what he felt towards him. He gives him food and medicine the next day since he caught a fever. He "invites himself" to watch a movie with him since they both had nothing to do for the rest of the day. The guy was basically courting Eui Joon, haha. Not a confession, my ass XD

And then, when Eui Joon opens up about how he rejected Hyeon Woo, Geon Woo tells him he'll also wait for him for around three years T^T

MY HEART I CAN'T T ^ T ☙ ☙ ☙ ☙ ☙ So that's kiiind of a long breakdown. I included as little pictures as possible. Copyright and all that. I just really like this series so far. I want to be able to read the original someday. Hopefully I'd be able to learn Korean T^T. If you like this as much as I do, chat me up =D would love to hear other thoughts.

#dangerous convenience store #dcs #bum geon woo #ahjussi #yeo eui joon #bl manhwa

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ladymelisande · 2 years

Note

Ask game: is it me or does MCU is improving in terms of storytelling. Like look at nwh and loki

Weeeeell, I think that this year has been a mixed bag for Marvel, to be honest, it depends of who you talk too. For example, people don't consider Loki to be very different from other Marvel products, even when it is because it's clearly meta-fiction and as far as my memory goes, that hadn't happened in any MCU movie. Not mentioning that people kind of forget that Loki was clearly planned with more than one season in mind, they knew it was going to succeed, so they clearly did it with the long way in mind, they are not stupid. And then No Way Home an unexpected fit of brilliance too.

Something that I think Marvel has really improved in Phase 4 in the majority has been the directing, at least when it comes to Wandavision, Loki and No Way Home. I can't say about FaTW because I didn't watch it nor I will because it sounds bland and boring and I don't like Wilson and Barnes, nor his actors, I found them the weakest characters and performances of the MCU, even Hawkeye is better. If I compare any of these shows with the movies made by the Russo like, oh god, the difference is abismal, the new directors are actually letting the actors emote like normal human beings, something that the Russo rarely did (they only let Scarlet Johansson cry normally in the very movie she was going to die but in the movie before that with them she had to do the Russo's Stoic Crying Face). I don't think any of the big name actors of the MCU are bad even if some are not spectacular But bad directing is catching when those same actors are way better in other movies in the same universe but by other directors. I think one of the biggest mistakes that Feige did was to keep the Russo and their two idiotic script writers after CATWS. The fandom worships that movie but I found it one of the most boring things ever. Not only I found it emotionally dry for me but it was so boring to look at, same with CACW, like those movies were shot so fucking grey and it seemed to be problem of the Russo's team because Doctor Strange looked way better and the actors were allowed to emote more.

I think that in some ways, the MCU has both improved and kept some bad habits: Wandavision having an interesting premise but a completely boring resolution, weak-ass villain and cuddling Wanda and giving her a cheerleader crew again. TFATWS... existing with all its tone deaf glory worthy of the CA movies. Shang Chi being generic. The Eternals being too cramped.

But on the other hand we have Loki being a meta-fictional sci fi show and doing a romance the centre of the emotional core and No Way Home using the multi-universal plot devise as a good way to introduce character development and also having time to let the scenes breathe.

People complained that Loki had an only talking scene with the finale but I actually liked it because it was a clear confirmation that the story wasn't in the least over, sometimes anti-climax are necessary. Tropes are Tools, guys. Also, wasn't the fact that it had a big final fight with powers one of the main complains about Wandavision's finale?

However, despite the pleasant surprises about Loki and No Way Home, I don't have high hopes for Doctor Strange after watching the trailer. It looks like a crowded movie and more like a way to bust Wanda's popularity and introduce America Chavez, two characters that have no emotional connection with Stephen in the MCU and we know that he is not gonna train them but actually needs their help because god help us if female characters are not perfect, autodidact and all knowing. I have zero interest on watching Stephen say how amazing and powerful they are while putting himself down, I am so tired of that trope. I rather the Doctor Strange movie being about, you know, Stephen Strange? The protagonist? And the relationships he had with his franchise's characters that were left hanging in his first movie? Like, say what you want to say about the Spiderman movies but at least Tony and Peter had an established and personal relationship since before the first movie. This is Stephen's second movie, I want the relationships he had in his movies, I don't give a fuck about Wanda or America, they can go to their own stuff. It's only his second movie, why are they cramping people now? Like, my worst prediction for this movie is that they are gonna explore zero about Stephen's character and his possibility for darkness or how what he did in Endgame affected him like they tease and only concentrate how those two are better than him because of course they will.

So, after all this word vomit, I think the MCU has improved in some parts but I think it will also sadly keep the bad habits. It really doesn't depend of Disney, ironically, it depends of the creativity of the writers and directors, as we saw in No Way Home and Loki, they are perfectly capable of creating decent stuff, they just need people with the creativity and passion to do it.

#may answers #mcu #spiderman no way home spoilers #doctor strange multiverse of madness

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latte-fairytaekwoon · 4 years

Text

Ateez: GF Having PMS

PMS: Pre-menstrual syndrome. Aka, those 1-2 weeks before a girl gets her period, they have symptoms like acne, bloating, cramps, food cravings, fatigue, increased sexual libido, mood swings, tender breasts and irritability among other things. It's not actually when you are on your period, for those of you who don't know. Also girls: it's totally normal and don't feel bad about any of these symptoms or talking about them ♡♡♡♡

Kim Hongjoong:

Hongjoong didn't know what was going on with you. One minute you're happy and wanting to cuddle, and then a minute later you're mad for no reason. It was making him angry honestly. You two have been dating for almost a month, he thought you were past the push and pull game already.

"What is wrong with you Y/N?!" He blurted out one day when your mood swings were too much.

He felt really bad when you started crying though.

"I'm sorry... it's not your fault. I get like this when I'm PMSing and I don't even notice...I'm sorry." You said while wiping tears out of your face.

Now it clicked in his brain and he felt even more bad. Carefully he sat down next to you and rubbed your back.

"Hey it's ok, don't worry. I didn't mean to raise my voice at you, so I'm sorry for that."

He pulled you into a hug and just held you there till you stopped crying.

"Better now?" He asked once you calmed down to which you nodded.

"Good. Now do you wanna go get ice cream?"

He got better at dealing with your mood swings every time they happened. He learned to back off when you were irritated and to hold you when you were sad.

Park Seonghwa:

Technically you weren't on your period, but for some reason you only got cramps during PMS and they were horrible.

All Seonghwa heard was "cramps" and he was very much on it. He ran out the door to the nearest store, bought a heating pad, bought chamomile tea to make for you, ibuprofen for the pain and even picked up a cute teddy bear for you.

So then Seonghwa handed you the bear while he placed the the heating pad on your tummy and gave you a glass of water for you to take one of the pills. The tea was already being brewed in the kitchen. Making sure it wasn't too hot to burn you, he took it to you and insisted on helping you sip on it.

"Are you feeling any better?" He asked you with a lot of tenderness.

You nodded and smiled at him. "Yes I am. Thank you, you're the perfect boyfriend."

You asked him to cuddle with you, which he was happy to oblige. However he made sure not to squeeze you too hard, worried that he might accidentally put pressure on your tummy and make your cramps worse.

Jeong Yunho:

You were fatigued, just laying on your bed, blankets covering you. It was well past 11 a.m and you still didn't feel the energy to get up. Your plan was to lay in bed for the whole day, or if you had to get up, do very minimal activity.

Suddenly a loud door slamming open and a loud:

"Honey! I'm home!!"

Yunho's energetic voice resonated through the house.

"Baby?! Where are you?!" He asked loudly.

You groaned, unable to even tell him where you were.

"There you are! So I got the day off and I thought we could- is something wrong?" He was worried when he saw your low state.

"I'm just really tired that's all. I don't feel like getting out of bed." You responded.

He was really worried though, wondering if you were sick or something. That's when you explained you just had fatigue due to PMS and just wanted rest.

"I'm sorry we can't go out like you wanted to."

"No! It's ok. We can just stay indoors and watch movies all day long. I'm always in a cuddling mood you know." He said as he joined you on the bed and wrapped his arms around you.

Kang Yeosang:

Movie nights with your boyfriend were a regular occurrence. You guys rarely payed attention to the movie, you both ended up talking very comfortably to each other. This particular night, your PMS symptom of tender breasts was acting up more than normal. Usually, you could go about your day without it bothering you, tonight it was too much though. And unconsciously your hands went in your shirt, kneading at them.

"Uh.....what are you doing?" Yeosang's voice snapped you back to reality.

"Oh.....my boobs are sore." You simply answered.

Yeosang just nodded like he understood and just looked back at the tv as he sipped on his apple juice. Wanting to mess with him a bit, you asked:

"Want to help me out?"

The juice box suddenly flattened as he sucked in all of the juice, flustered at your question. He looked at you with a look that asked "seriously?" You simply pouted at him.

"Ok." He shrugged and put his juice down.

"Wait what?" It was now your turn to be flustered.

Choi San:

Days leading up to your period were super annoying. Not only did you get killer headaches randomly, but your body decides to bloat out of nowhere and so the jeans that fit you perfectly yesterday now couldn't zip up.

"Oh fuck off!" You huffed out when the zipper ended up breaking from you pulling on it so much.

"I didn't even do anything??" San's voice from the bedroom reminded you that you weren't alone.

"Not you! I was talking about my jeans!" You explained.

"Why what's wrong?" He asked.

"They don't fit and the zipper broke." You whined.

San came inside the bathroom, seeing what the problem was.

"They fit fine yesterday?" He was confused about what happened.

And so a mini lesson on your body changes during PMS ensued. San ate up all the information for next time.

"Why don't I just buy you stretchy pants so you're more comfortable?" He suggested.

"Aww that's so nice of you." You awed at his kind gesture.

"But between you and me, I'd rather have you with no pants on." He winked at you.

You grabbed a towel and threw it at him.

"Choi San! Now you fuck off!"

Song Mingi:

You were avoiding seeing your boyfriend for the past 2 days, feeling embarrassing about the tiny breakouts that popped out on your cheeks. You didn't like looking at them and hated if anyone saw you like that. But Mingi was clingy and couldn't go one day without seeing you and so one day you were startled when he tapped on your bedroom window and then proceeded to crawl his way in.

"What are you doing here?!" You screeched as you covered your face with the blanket.

"I needed to make sure you weren't dead or kidnapped!" He responded as he got up from the floor.

He looked at your weird position and asked what it was about, and you refused to answer. Mingi just strode over to you and pulled the blanket off you.

"Don't! I look horrible!" You tried reaching for something else to cover up.

"You look fine. What are you talking about?" He was genuine confused what you meant.

"No I don't! Look at this! Stupid breakouts! I hate it!" You crossed your arms and looked down.

Mingi's heart dropped at your words.

"Honey listen.." He sat down next to you and held your hand. "Those things are totally normal. Everyone gets them once in a while, so don't feel bad. You're still beautiful no matter what."

He smiled brightly at you, hoping to cheer you up. You smiled back and didn't feel so self conscious about it anymore.

Jung Wooyoung:

Wooyoung honestly loved annoying you with his love. Usually you were very patient with him, except when you were PMSing, then you were irritable almost every day and had no patience for anyone, including him. If you think that'd stop him and leave you alone, you're wrong. That's when he likes annoying you the most. He thinks you look like cute whenever you yell at him to stop or to leave you alone.

"Who's the cutest kitten here?" He said in a sing song voice as he ruffled your hair.

"Stooop!" You whined out, getting annoyed.

"Oooh feisty kitten! Maybe if I tickle your-"

"Noooo!" You moved away from him when he tried to touch your face.

"Y/N baby.." He continued.

"Go away!" You swatted his hand away and marched to the bathroom to cool off for a little bit.

Wooyoung laughed at you stomping away in annoyance.

"One day she might actually kill you." Yeosang pointed out.

"Nah she won't, she loves me too much. Besides, isn't she hot when she's angry?" Wooyoung said.

"I seriously hold onto my theory that you're a masochist and a weirdo." Yeosang shook his head.

Choi Jongho:

Honestly you felt blessed that your only PMS symptom was weird cravings that turned you into a foodie. You had heard horror stories from your friends about how their PMS was unbearable, so you considered yourself lucky. In fact, sometimes you even forgot it was a PMS symptom.

Jongho never noticed anything unusual about your cravings, thinking you were hungry or something, until you pulled out a really weird combination that seemed to last days.

"You're eating that again?" He asked as he stared at the food in front of you.

"Yeah. I've been really craving it recently."

Jongho's heart stopped for a moment, panic rushing through him.

"Oh my God! I think I got you pregnant!" He exclaimed, his hands going to his head.

You bursted out laughing at that.

"What? No you didn't you silly goose." It was so amusing to you that he came to that conclusion.

"Then how else do you explain it?!" You honestly felt bad at how he was freaking out.

Pulling out a chair, you gestured for him to sit on it.

"Make yourself comfortable Jongho. Time for a little biology lesson."

Gifs not mine, credit goes to their respective owners.

#ateez #ateez reactions #ateez hongjoong #ateez seonghwa #ateez yunho #ateez yeosang #ateez san #ateez mingi #ateez wooyoung #ateez jongho #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines

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kurt-nightcrawler · 4 years

Text

Baby Bird

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐈𝐈𝐈 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Request: i kinda had this idea for a warren x reader and if you were intrested or had time i’d be very appreciative 👉👈. (warren has his apocalypse wings) so the reader is a new student she’s very like shy and timid but very sweet and her only friend is jean, she just like refuses to converse with others. and her gift is her wings and they’re exactly like warren’s except black (kinda like he was the bad boy with white angel wings and she’s the good girl with black wings,sorry i love opposites 😂) and be just hates her because it’s a reminder of his old wings and mistakes. fast forward to like a day at school or party someone is messing with r because she never shows off her wings and then like push her or something and jean freaks out and tells warren r doesn’t know how to use her wings (super sad childhood with very anti-mutant parents) so then warren saves her and they talk more and get closer.

A/N: this is so late! I am so sorry! But I am finally getting around to all my requests and this wasn’t in my ask box so it got kind of lost and I forgot about it for a hot minute! I hope you enjoy it though! 🥺💛

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: underage drinking, teasing, anxiety, and mentions of poor home life

“Your grades are phenomenal, yet your class participation is lacking.” (Y/N) picked at her nails, looking down. Xavier called her into his office to “discuss her grades” but she knew that was the last thing on his mind. “I don’t want to push you into anything you’re not comfortable with, but at some point, everyone has to socialize.”

Her head shot up, “I do! I do socialize.”

Sure, she ate lunch alone under the trees, would rather be alone than have a partner for class projects, and she didn’t have many friends— but she was new! Being the new kid was hard. Not to mention her parents were more than thrilled to get rid of her and her wings.

Her big, black, feathery wings, that she didn’t even know how to use! She hid them under baggy sweaters, no matter the weather.

Xavier gave her a look, “You don’t have any friends and you hide your beautiful wings.”

“Dr. McCoy and Mystique hide their true selves… and if Kurt had the chance he’d want to look normal too.” Charles sighed. “Look, um, Professor, I do— I do have friends.”

“Who?”

“Jean Grey.”

Saying Jean was her friend wasn’t a lie— however, Jean was her only friend. (Y/N) didn’t like to talk, and Jean read minds— easy friendship right there.

Jean had other friends and even a boyfriend. (Y/N) felt like she weighed her down or was charity work, but Jean always said otherwise.

Sometimes (Y/N) would sit with Jean and her friends. They were all kind and welcoming, despite her not saying anything. The only one who seemed standoff-ish was Warren.

Warren was tall and extremely handsome. Jean had teased (Y/N) for losing her train of thought more than once for looking at Warren and thinking he was pretty.

He had these huge metal wings and tattoos on his face. (Y/N) thought they could possibly be friends, mostly because they both had wings, but that didn’t go so well…

—

The one day (Y/N) wore a t-shirt, with holes in the back so she could flaunt her wings, everyone looked at her. She didn’t like the attention, but she couldn’t blame them for staring.

Jean’s friends showered her with a mixture of surprise and compliments with her wings.

“Can I touch them?” Peter asked. (Y/N) nodded, making eye contact with Warren for a moment.

He rolled his eyes and scoffed. (Y/N) quickly looked away and frowned. Everyone liked her except for Warren.

Was he the honest one of the group though? What if all of Jean’s friends actually hated (Y/N)? What if they just put up with her because Jean made them? She was sure Scott didn’t like her much either, even if he never showed it. He was dating Jean and her friendship with (Y/N) probably cut into their time… Oh, God… They just think my wings are neat and soon as I stop showing them they’ll get bored of me…

Warren was glaring at something, and then he got up as left. Just like that!

“Is he okay?” (Y/N) asked Jean.

“He’s just being dumb. You know how boys are.” (Y/N) nodded, but she was pretty sure Warren wasn’t just “being dumb”. He probably hated her.

—

It was finally the weekend, and (Y/N) was hunched over her books on a Friday night. Normal for her, as Jean and her friends usually went out somewhere.

A knock at her door interrupted her work time, and she opened it to find Jean and Jubilee standing in the doorway. Jubilee was bouncing and had a bag in her arms.

(Y/N) let them in. Jubilee set the bag on the floor and started going through it— it was full of makeup and hair stuff. “What’s going on?”

“We’re going to a party tonight, and you’re coming with us.”

(Y/N) glanced over to her work pile, “But I’ve got a paper due—”

“Two weeks from now. I have the same class.” Jubilee answered.

“Jean…” She whined.

“One night out won’t kill you. Neither will a little makeup and a cute outfit.”

“What?”

“Here, put this on.”

She examined the lump of fabric in her hands.

It was a dress.

“People will see my wings!”

“Yeah, that’s like the whole point,” Jubilee said.

(Y/N) sighed and slipped off her sweater, putting the dress on in its place.

“You look so pretty!” Jubilee cooed.

“Thanks.” (Y/N)’s immediate reaction was to fold her wings in tightly to her back, so they weren’t visible from the front.

“Relax,” Jean told her, soon as she noticed what (Y/N) was doing. Jubilee signaled her to sit down on the floor next to her, amidst a hundred different makeup products.

“I’m just gonna do some light, subtle makeup. Enough to enhance your features.”

“Thanks?...” The brush tickled (Y/N)’s skin, making her nose scrunch up.

“Relax your face. This doesn’t hurt.”

“Sorry. Sorry…”

“It’s okay.”

—

Everyone somehow managed to fit in one car— except for Kurt and Peter, they were racing to see who could get to the party first— Jean and Scott in the front, Warren, Jubilee, Ororo, and (Y/N) in the back.

(Y/N) couldn’t help but notice Warren looked a little flushed, “Is Warren okay?”

“Yeah, why?” Jean asked.

“His face is flushed. Is he just like, hot or something?”

“Or something…” Jean smiled, trying to act nonchalant. (Y/N) gave her a deadpan look through the rearview mirror. “I can’t tell you, but he’s fine.”

“You okay, (Y/N)?” Scott asked, looking back at her through the rearview mirror.

“Yeah.”

Scott nodded awkwardly.

—

Once parked, everyone quickly tumbled out of the car. Music could be heard from the inside. It was loud.

“I want to go home.”

“(Y/N) we just got here— dance with Jubilee or go sit outside with Ororo and Warren.”

“Warren doesn’t like me.”

“Not true… He’s just quiet.”

(Y/N) started to retaliate but Jean walked into the kitchen with Scott, and (Y/N) tried to not interrupt her time with her boyfriend, so she shut up.

Peter was playing beer pong with some kids. Jubilee and Kurt were dancing and both had cups in their hands. There was some wanna-be punk band playing.

(Y/N) decided to join them.

“Hey, (Y/N)!”

She waved her hand.

“You look nice,” Kurt said.

“Thanks.”

“I did her makeup,” Jubilee bragged.

Kurt giggled slightly, “Nice.”

The band was mostly playing covers, but they were pretty good. (Y/N) was letting loose and dancing along with Jubilee and Kurt.

I'm burnin' through the sky, yeah!

Two hundred degrees, that's why they call me Mister Fahrenheit…

I'm traveling at the speed of light.

I wanna make a supersonic woman of you!

(Y/N) accidentally hit Jubilee with her wings. “I’m so sorry!”

“It’s fine! They’re soft anyways.”

Don't stop me, don't stop me, don’t stop me. Hey, hey, hey!

Don't stop me, don't stop me, ooh, ooh, ooh…

(Y/N) was actually enjoying herself. She was dancing and chanting incoherently along with the lyrics. She almost felt free.

The last time she had felt like this was as a child. Before her wings grew in. Before her parents deemed her a monster who had to hide. Before she lost everything she had. Before she decided to speak less was better for her.

She didn’t even think about any of it. She didn’t even think about how Jean was probably making out with Scott in a bathroom, or how Warren had been acting. She was having fun, and that was the only thing that mattered to her.

—

At some point during the night, (Y/N), slightly tipsy, made it up onto the roof with a few other kids. Everything was fine at first, but they were way too drunk.

“Why don’t you jump off the edge?” One of them asked.

“What?”

“Fly off the edge, birdie!” The other laughed. “Jump! Jump!”

“Jump! Jump!”

In the rooftop kids efforts to get (Y/N) to jump, people on the ground started chanting too.

“What’s going on?” Warren asked. Jubilee shrugged.

(Y/N) was terrified, wings folded in tightly to her back.

Jean came running up to Warren, “(Y/N) can’t fly! She can’t hear me either, she’s too nervous, lost in her own thoughts.”

Warren wanted to ask what he could possibly do, but he never got the chance.

(Y/N) fell off the roof.

Or maybe she was pushed off. Either way, it didn’t matter because she was screaming and falling and no one was doing anything.

Warren bolted and flew up so he could catch her in his arms. She looked so weak and tired in his arms. She was crying and his heart dropped seeing her like that.

Warren carefully brought her to the ground, making sure she could walk on her own. “Come here,” He gave her his jacket and wrapped an arm around her, letting her cry into his chest.

“I hated that—” She sniffled, “—I’m never doing it again.” Warren nodded understandingly, holding her close to his side.

“Let’s go home, okay?” (Y/N) nodded, still in a state of shock.

—

The halls of the mansion were like a ghost town, everyone was either out, asleep, or couped up in one of the many rooms. Warren and (Y/N) were alone as they walked up to her room.

“Why did you save me?”

Warren blinked, looking at (Y/N). She rarely spoke to or around him.

“Jean said you couldn’t fly.”

“Oh…” She avoided Warren’s eyes in embarrassment. So Jean told him to save me because I’m useless. Of course…

“You could have died, falling from that high up,” Warren’s voice was stern, but he wasn’t angry.

“Sorry…” She mumbled.

Warren furrowed his brows, “Sorry? What are you sorry for?”

“I inconvenienced you…”

“What? No!” He stopped to stand face to face, holding one of (Y/N)’s hands. “You could never.”

(Y/N) felt fuzzy inside. Was she getting sick? Was she allergic to Warren? Why is he so nice? Why am I so nervous?

“I’d do the same for anyone.”

Oh. Yeah, no, he doesn’t really like me… nobody does… “Right.”

Warren noticed her mood change, but he didn’t call her out for it.

“I’m gonna go to bed. Thanks for bringing me home…”

“Of course…” He coughed for a moment, clearing his throat. “If you need anything, um, my room isn’t that far—”

“Thanks, Warren.” She forced a smile. “Good night.”

“Good night.”

—

Warren slipped off his t-shirt, discarding it on his desk chair. He laid in bed, thinking about (Y/N).

What if he hadn’t caught her in time?

He shook the thought away as he tossed in bed, slowly falling asleep.

Warren didn’t hate (Y/N). He just hated her wings… they reminded him of his old wings. The one thing he wanted most in life… his new ones were a constant reminder of his past mistakes, they were the wings of a monster.

But Warren had changed, or so he thought. He hated seeing (Y/N)’s wings, despite them rarely being out. He was jealous and angry. Mostly at himself.

But (Y/N) didn’t know how to use her wings…

That was strange to Warren. Maybe there was more to her than he thought.

—

(Y/N) awoke to a knock on her door.

“Hggggg… Just give me a minute.” She groaned. She rolled out of bed and opened the door.

“Jean? What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to make sure you were okay! We got back late and Warren said you were already asleep.”

“Oh… Well, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay… Do you wanna come down for breakfast?”

(Y/N) glanced at her pajamas. “Can I get changed first?...”

“You look fine! Most of the group is still in their pj’s anyway.”

“Okay.”

Jean led (Y/N) down the hall to the kitchen where her friends were. Most of them were chatting amongst themselves or shoving food into their mouths.

“Hangovers?” She asked.

“Yeah some, I’m surprised you don’t have one.”

“I never said I didn’t.” (Y/N) got herself a cup and a plate, taking some of the food and drink available.

“(Y/N), are you okay from last night?” Jubilee asked.

She nodded.

Peter let out a breath, “Thank God. Xavier would have killed us if you’d gotten hurt.” (Y/N) nodded again, trying to just focus on the food on her plate.

“You’re lucky Warren was there to catch you,” Scott stated.

“Yep.”

“Is everyone going to keep talking about last night?” She asked herself.

“Probably. You could have broken your legs, or sprained an ankle— plus people like to talk.”

“Gossip, you mean gossip.”

Jean didn’t respond, she was too focused on whatever Scott was saying. (Y/N) rolled her eyes.

Typical.

Warren trudged into the kitchen— his curls tangled, wings almost dragging against the floor, and he wore the world’s most wrinkled t-shirt— he looked like he didn't want to be there.

He opened up a cabinet and took out a mug. He closed the cabinet door and moved over near the coffee pot on the counter. He took it and poured plain, black, coffee into his mug.

Then he took a sip straight from the mug.

“There is creamer and milk in the fridge,” (Y/N) reminded him.

“I know.”

“Oh.”

(Y/N) focused on her plate again, trying to pretend the awkward interaction didn’t happen.

“Hey, uh, I was wondering—“ (Y/N) quickly looked up at Warren as he spoke. “I could like, help you learn to fly.”

“Um…”

“No one would see us. If you’re worried about that.”

“Oh my god! You should say yes!” (Y/N) quickly twisted her head over at Jean and almost gave her the finger, but Scott was watching. So she just glared.

She didn’t want Jean in her head all the time. Especially at a time like this.

She looked back at Warren, “Sure. I have nothing else to do.”

“Cool. I have some stuff to do, but I’ll get you in a few hours.”

(Y/N) nodded, “Sounds good.”

—

(Y/N) looked through her closet, trying to find something she could wear to fly in. Most of her tops weren’t exactly wing friendly. She sighed.

She didn’t even want to do this— she just wanted to hide her wings forever and move on from last night.

No. No, that wasn’t true in the slightest.

She needed to learn to use her wings, they were a part of her, whether she liked it or not. She had her old life ripped away from her in exchange for the big black heaps of feathers on her back, weighing her down every day. She had to embrace them somehow. They were all she had.

That and Jean… sometimes. And eventually, she’d have to leave the nest and talk to other people.

Warren knocked on her door. (Y/N) glanced at her reflection— she still had her pajamas on!

He knocked again, “(Y/N)? It’s me.”

“Sorry! Give me a sec!” (Y/N) hurried and shut her closet, then opening her door to let Warren in. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine, are you—“ He glanced at her clothes. (Y/N) instantly tensed up, insecure by his gaze. “Why are you still in your pajamas?”

“Uh… I don’t really have anything good for flying—“

“Just wear some shorts and a shirt with holes in the back. Nothing fancy.”

“You don’t understand, I have one shirt with holes in the back, and it’s in the laundry.”

“You sleep with your wings tucked in?” Warren gawked.

“Sometimes.” She defended.

Warren glanced at something shiny in the corner of his eye. “Grab a shirt you don’t care about.”

“Okay…” (Y/N) grabbed an old Xavier’s school tee.

“Give it to me.” She handed it to Warren. He took the scissors from her desk and quickly cut slits in the back of the t-shirt. “There. Now you have something to wear.”

She just stared at Warren.

“Are you gonna put it on or?...”

“Can you step out of the room then?”

Warren’s eyes widened in realization on what he’d set himself up for. “Right! Right, um, do you need any help getting your wings through the holes?”

“If I do, I’ll ask. Now leave so I can get dressed.”

“Yeah, right, right.” Warren quickly stepped out into the hall, shutting the door behind him.

(Y/N) huffed and slipped her large nightshirt off, throwing it on her bed. She grabbed the shirt Warren cut up and put it on without a second thought.

Head pops out through the first hole.

The arms go through the sleeves.

The shirt slips down and covers the chest and torso.

But the wing holes were new. (Y/N) tried to push one of her wings out but she struggled. It took her a bit of reaching back with her hands to spread the fabric a bit so she had more space before she could get it through the slit.

The second wing she had more trouble with.

(Y/N) couldn’t reach her arms back as easily to spread out the slit. And her whole wing wouldn’t go through since it wasn’t the loosest of shirts.

(Y/N) opened her door and peeked her head out. “Hey, I need some help…”

Warren perked up a little, following (Y/N) into her room.

“Just like, hold the two sides of the slit out, and then I can get my wing through.”

Warren did as she asked.

“We’re they too small?”

“A little, but also this isn’t baggy like most of my clothes, so…”

“I can make the holes bigger if you want.”

She dismissed him, “It’s fine. I’ll do it later.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I already wasted enough time getting ready. We should go out.”

Warren nodded, “Yeah. We’re gonna be out for a while.”

—

They were standing on the roof of Xavier’s, looking out onto the grassy campus.

“So, uh, flying once you get the hang of it, is like a reflex almost… But uh basically, you just need to flap your wings, so you keep yourself afloat of sorts. Does that make sense?”

“Kind of.”

“Okay, um, just like, run off the edge—”

“Runoff the edge?!” (Y/N) asked, terrified of falling to her death. Scared of having a repeat of the night before.

“Just flap your wings, and if you mess up I’ll catch you.”

(Y/N) stood at the edge, peering down at the ground below. “Are you sure?”

“Maybe back up a bit, get like a running start first.”

(Y/N) did as he suggested, running off the edge. When her feet left the roof, she tried to flap her wings as Warren had told her.

She felt herself flying like a wonky baby bird. Somewhat lopsided with each flap, but she was doing it!

“Oh my gosh! Warren! Warren I’m doing it!”

She could see Warren still on the roof. He gave her a thumbs up and some encouraging cheers.

(Y/N) smiled, struggling to fly, but flying nonetheless. She looked down for a moment, and then suddenly realized she was many feet above the ground, in the air. (Y/N) panicked, and stopped flapping her wings for a moment, before she started to fall.

“Shit!” Warren flew off the roof to save (Y/N).

But it was a false alarm, for, by the time Warren was about to catch (Y/N), she’d regained herself and was no longer falling to the ground.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Um, it’s just really high up, I’m scared of falling again, like at the party.”

“Hey, hey, relax, don’t focus on the ground or your wings. Just— focus on me, okay?”

She looked at his face— his blue eyes, his plush pink lips, the dark lines adorned all over his face, and how he had a few untamable, blonde curls that framed his face— she looked at Warren’s wings and tried to copy how his fluttered and kept him aflight.

“You’re doing it!” He told her.

“Really?” (Y/N) was almost in disbelief.

“Yeah, you’re doing great!”

(Y/N) looked at her wings, realizing what she was doing. She was worried she’d fall, but it never happened.

“I’ll race you to the mansion next door.”

“Next door? That’s like several acres.” Warren gave her a knowing look, and then it all clicked. “Oh! Oh, you’re so on!”

Warren laughed and they both flew off at high speed, away from school.

—

They got back to the mansion after sunset, both giggling and playfully fighting about who won the race.

“I think I won—”

“Oh, yes, beginner’s luck, Baby Bird.”

She raises her eyebrows and points at him, “Aha! So you admit I won.”

“I may have let you…”

(Y/N) scoffed, “Yeah, right.”

“Yeah, you got me. I wouldn’t go too easy on you.” Warren was headed for the kitchen, but (Y/N) was going in the opposite direction.

“I was gonna get a bite to eat. Wanna join me?”

“Um, I was going to shower first…”

“Oh… I’ll see you later then?”

(Y/N) was suddenly very awkward and nervous, “Um, yeah! Pfft, of course, uh— yeah. Yeah!”

“Great!” Warren was also suddenly somewhat nervous.

“Great!”

The two were on their separate paths, before (Y/N) turned back for a moment.

“You good?” Warren asked.

“Yeah, um,” (Y/N) kissed his cheek. It didn’t last long, but it left her heart pounding and Warren flustered.

“Thanks for today. I’m gonna go shower.”

#warren worthington iii x reader #warren worthington x reader #x-men x reader #x men x reader #xmen x reader #angel x reader #archangel x reader #warren worthington iii x you #warren worthington iii oneshot #warren worthington x you #warren worthington oneshot #x-men oneshot #xmen oneshot #my writing #ben hardy x reader

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ginkgomoon · 3 years

Text

I Like You A Latte- Gavin ☕️

Happy blog birthday to @cheri-cheri. Another gift would like to present itself to you! 💙

“The exam is officially over,” you sigh.

All those years of studying and recurring late nights pouring the blood, sweat and tears for you push towards the finish line were all worth it.

You are now free.

Kind of… but not really.

For once, you were outside not catching the train to go university, heading off into another library or exam room. You had thought to savour this rare time to yourself before heading off to find a job. Thankfully, public transport is convenient enough to take you just about anywhere in Loveland City.

With only your phone, wallet and keys in hand, you stroll along the all too familiar building blocks near your home, pondering on where to go for the long awaited first day out by yourself. Should you go for some udon? Bingsoo? Pudding, perhaps?

While breathing in the sweet air of freedom, you admire the city that you grew up in, absorbing the view from down below and up at the infrastructure that the city was so renowned for.

The height, distance and those buildings haven't changed. But you- the stages of your life, experiences and perspectives have. The city almost seemed a little bit more… brighter. More alive. Or maybe… would it be for just this once?

This, you fear.

The glare of the sun continues beating down, its light reflecting off the glass buildings passing its judgement on the entire city. The heat is suffocating and you long for a cool drink or nice air-con to rely on to keep you sane.

A vision suddenly intrudes, presenting the clean pastel coloured store-front of the café that had just opened up nearby. You remember that you had power-walked right past the “WE ARE OPEN” sign on your way home from a past exam to prepare for the final one a few days ago.

You know you rarely enter any cafés at all, but your love for coffee and urge to explore someplace new begin to steer your legs into the walking direction of where you had remembered it to be.

As you soon reach the entrance, the sign you saw from the peripheral of your memory greets you.

“BRUNCH CAFE. WE ARE OPEN.”

You push open the heavy glass door, instantly entering a world of relief. Still in between the two opposing temperatures, you hastily swing the door back and encase yourself in paradise.

You take a moment to briefly scan your surroundings. The café, although it claims to be open, has everything but the barista. It wasn’t as big as the Starbucks down at the shopping centres, but it was humble enough for its size and able to fit all the requirements a café needs.

Soft instrumental music starts to reel you in further, like a siren hypnotising a sailor. You feel... peaceful. Though you wonder if you were hearing the non-diegetic music of the film occurring right in front of your eyes instead of your almost-dream café.

The minimalist designs, the ambience, and the extremely posh and elegant windows that you didn’t admire enough the first time strikes your appeal. You also confirm with yourself that this was the café that you would choose to break the cycle of drinking instant coffees everyday.

Just this once.

On the left side, those posh windows were flaunting on display, and to the right had little cubicles laid out perfect for providing spacious privacy. You marvel at what a genius idea the store owner had to create such a comforting and unique interior for a café. There was not a thing out of place.

Except of course, the barista.

You head over to where the cubicles were waiting and as you turn into the corner, you almost trip over something that looks like… a foot?

Following the coffee-stained sport shoes, your eyes slowly drift up on its owner, locking on a sleeping figure on the seats of the cubicle.

A young man with a soft aura.

You squint in confusion.

The poor cubicle clearly wasn’t big enough to fit his entire body. His hair seems to have fallen into place like dominos having slightly covering his eyelids, and appears to be breathing in a gentle rhythm with his chest following in sync. Your eyes also end up emphasising his jawline as you continue to stare.

His chest- wait.

A little badge on the right corner of his shirt immediately becomes the salient object.

So, he is the barista.

Barista… Gabin?

You lean closer at the words printed out on it.

No, it’s Ga-vin.

Apart from how attractive he looks, you question yourself- why is the barista sleeping during opening hours?

The man’s eyes slowly crack open, like a shell opening to display the pearl from inside, and you finally see his eyes of beautiful amber squinting back at you. Though, you can’t tell if it was because of the bright lights inside the cafe, or if he was solely observing you- and why you were so close to him at this very moment.

“Oh, I am so sorry,” you cry, instantly retracting from your forward-leaning position. Your brain tries to racks up reasons why you two were in this situation incase he asks.

“There was something on your face” or “your foot was in the way” could work. No- “sorry, I’ve never seen another human being before” sounds a lot more believable.

Gavin, the barista, furrows his eyebrows in confusion then seemingly in frustration.

Your body tenses.

It’s coming.

“No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep…” he sighs softly.

You do another quick scan and take that only the two of you were in the cafe now, unless there was another sleeping barista somewhere else you didn’t notice.

“If you're here for coffee, it’s on the house. An apology for what you saw just now…. Just don’t tell the boss if he’s here,” Gavin lightly coughs.

“Oh okay... Thank you. A latte please,” you say, rather not wanting to question it further. For now. But free coffee made by this gorgeous barista? How could anyone refuse this offer? All you did was stare. In that case, you would gladly do it again.

You settle your belongings on the table and catch Gavin rolling up his sleeves, putting on the display of his toned forearms. Luckily, your cubicle entrance was facing the direction of the workbench allowing yourself to watch him set up.

You start to wish for your coffee to be as hot as him.

Scalding hot.

Gavin steadily handles the jug and effortlessly pours the milk into the latte glass with the espresso already inside. Despite your sight of his expertise, he still can’t hide the subtle droopiness of his eyes and the slight furrow of his eyebrows again.

You figure it would be better if you come up to him instead so he wouldn’t have to travel the whole way to your cubicle with his current state being like this.

You gingerly make your way to his workbench while fumbling for a topic to break the awkward silence in your head.

“Is it just you working here today or…?” you ask.

“Is there another hot sleeping barista I should know about?” you continued in your head.

Gavin hands you the transparent cup accompanied by the saucer, a little spoon, a packet of sugar and a complimentary ginkgo-shaped cookie on the side.

The art displayed formed a symmetrical heart with perfect one centimetre foam to present the perfect latte.

“There’s the chef who’s actually the boss of this place but sometimes he dashes in and out. Especially when there’s no customers as of late. I have no idea where he goes, actually. Right now is no exception,” he replies, sweeping the remains of the coffee grounds into the knock box.

“And you do all the work for him? That doesn’t seem fair. Does he allow you to make your own cup of coffee at least?”

“Well, not exactly. I just work over-time till late. Plus, I think my body is practically immune to caffeine by now,” Gavin laughs.

"Me too," you comment.

As tired as he looks, he still has the energy to light up a smile, even with a stranger. His mouth forms an effortlessly handsome arc and you feel something emerging from within your heart, so subtle that you almost think that you could have mistaken yourself as the protagonist in a romance novel.

Though working overtime till late… at a brunch cafe?

You don’t question him any further. You take a whiff at the single delicate-looking plain ginkgo cookie and have a bite. This moment of peace and serenity was offering the much needed break from all that tension and pressure you were under- apart from Gavin being here, though he didn’t seem to mind your presence.

You lean forward to place your elbows on the counter and stare at the coffee in front, frowning a little at the reality of ruining the beautiful heart. You rip open the sugar and pour in half, then give it a stir with the spoon. The foam is perfectly silky and frothy, fusing with the crema like a starry galaxy.

You remind yourself that "it was okay" because this moment would forever remain in your own heart instead. Delicious, creamy arabica coffee.

Like those ginkgo leaves dancing in the wind that autumn day.

You smile at the memory before multiple begin to overlap with another. Ones where you had passed by the senior classrooms catching a glimpse of a boy staring out of the window or down in a random alleyway on your bicycle.

You didn’t think much of it back then either, but he had always looked familiar and seemed to be everywhere you were too. Crossing paths in hallways and even at the library, reading. That upperclassman boy named-

“-Gavin?”

He looks up.

“From school?”

You wonder why you hadn’t realised.

His facial features are now more defined, sharper, and still a head taller than you. Who would have thought the hot barista was actually an old schoolmate. You put your coffee down and internally scream.

“You remember me?” he softly asks.

“Just a little bit. Wait, do you know who I am?”

“Just a little bit.”

Gavin smiles.

You break eye contact and continue drinking, not wanting the coffee to get cold during this exchange. But even now it tastes different than before.

“So, what brings you here?” he asks.

“Taking a break before I find a job. See if any place will accept me…”

“Of course they will. You’re brilliant at what you do. I have no doubts that you will be successful.”

You smile in response, taking in the last of the remaining coffee.

“How do you know? We haven’t seen each other in so long. And I don’t think we’ve ever interacted this much in the past."

“I just do… Trust me.”

You look back up. His eyes light up with so much sincerity that could power a whole entire city’s electricity.

"I never thought I'd see you again," you say.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know. You seemed like... you were just so difficult to figure out, especially for people like me who don't know you that well. So I never gave it a second thought either. And now here you are, making my coffee. Anyway, this is probably not making any sense..."

"No, I understand," Gavin states. "In your opinion... what kind of man am I?"

Before you could formulate a proper response, hot heat suddenly finds its way in, corroding with its cooler counterpart and signalling the entrance of another person.

Your eyes catch sight of a tall and handsome man, his aura so dominating that the heat you feel could just be from him instead.

“That’s the boss,” Gavin whispers.

The boss saunters his way in straight towards you two. His black hair matches his suit and tie, making him appear more like a CEO than of a chef.

“Don’t worry, I’m just going to the back to restock some things, I’ll be right back,” Gavin says, shooting you a comforting smile.

While trying to process all of this, your eyebrows are the ones to furrow now instead. How could this boss treat an employee like this? Working overtime without proper breaks? This to you was appalling and certainly see this as an act of injustice. Being the good and lawful citizen that you are, you decide to treat this like one.

“Excuse me.”

Before he enters the kitchen, he turns, offering his full attention to you. You thought you had a good grasp on what you wanted to say, but it seems that your head had disconnected from your voice box.

“Your employee…” you begin, “he seems very fatigued. I think you should be sharing the workload equally instead of leaving the cafe. Haven’t you ever heard of a collegial workplace before?”

His eyebrow lifts- in amusement, mockery or consideration, you don’t know. After all, your words carrying the “sense of justice” did sound a lot better in your head.

“I don’t interfere with anyone’s personal lives,” he said, his deep voice shattering your “prosecution”. But before you could have another go at him, he retreats into the kitchen.

Gavin returns with takeaway cups and lids and sees you standing flabbergasted at your interaction with the boss.

“You okay?”

You reply back with a little “humph” at the direction of the kitchen then turn to Gavin restocking the items on the cup warmer of the coffee machine.

"I-it’s nothing."

After all, this was your first and last time here, and maybe you shouldn't have acted so impulsively on a situation like this. Plus, how would Gavin react if you push the topic further?

You sigh. Hopefully the plan to have a drink and catch up with an old friend later in the night will settle the agitation you feel.

A soft ding is heard from your phone reminding you to get ready to leave.

Perfect timing.

As you reluctantly pack your things, you glance at Gavin’s way, who looks like he’s about to end his shift for the day as well.

You don’t want to be supporting a business owner who treats his employees like this, but yet seeing Gavin this way made you feel helpless. It’s a shame that you won’t see another handsome barista like this again. Or see him again. Or probably enter another cafe at all after this.

“I have to go.”

Your voice interrupts his workflow, and he frowns.

“Now?”

“I have somewhere to be, unfortunately.”

Gavin takes a moment to process this.

“Why don’t you wait till I leave? That way, I can see you off. It will only be a minute.”

More like a minute's time to sob about this man who could have been your boyfriend in a parallel universe. But as long as you won’t be late to meet up with your friend, you agree to wait for Gavin to finish up.

You linger by the entrance, not wanting to intrude his workspace again and steer clear from the awkwardness that could arise from watching him up close.

But after that literal minute, he steps outside with you and the heaviness in your heart starting to simmer back up again. The air already seems to have to cooled down, providing a thankful comfort to your surroundings.

Looking at him now, you almost change your mind. You could maybe see him again when you have time in the future. To... catch up.

Just maybe.

“Thank you for today," you say. You remind yourself to not get too attached, having really not know if you would be ready for all of that, especially for what was to come in the future.

You slowly walk backwards into the direction of your home, back where you need to get ready for the night out again.

“Thanks for coming. It was nice meeting you again,” he replies.

As you turn to leave, in your peripheral vision Gavin tracks forward to cover every step you took away from him, pulling a hesitant arm up to say something more.

But by then, you were already turning the corner and out of sight.

-And after all this time, your thoughts keep returning to those moments.

A couple of hours pass and your mind still orbits Gavin and that café. You wonder if there was something more you could have done or said. Hopefully he didn’t mistake your hurried steps for something else.

You soon arrive at the venue that you and your friend unanimously agreed on, though as you tippy-toe your way through the crowd to spot her, it seems that she hasn't arrived at the agreed time yet.

As you wait, you fiddle with the side of your dress. You decided to go with the classy minimalist look- a black dress and simple ginkgo drop earrings you bought recently. You didn't want to draw any attention to yourself, but you were satisfied that you were well-dressed enough to feel glamorous for the night. However, wanting to avoid the additional heat of the weather sticking on your body like a tattoo, you decide to head in first.

The music gradually becomes clearer and definitely louder as you weave your way through the hallway entrance towards the heart of the club, with the lights dimly lit and its walls enclosed for the darkness to rule.

You haven’t been in a place like this for so long, especially when you got used to the quiet and calm environment of libraries, the home, and the café earlier…

You could feel everyone’s body heat from a good healthy distance away, even at the seat of the bar. You don’t plan on getting drunk tonight, but you know your alcohol tolerance is so low that you figure it would be best if you should order a little fruity mocktail first instead then perhaps have a real drink with your friend when she arrives later.

You give a quick text notifying her of your location and place your phone back into your purse, ready to order.

Darkness continues to stir as you struggle to locate the bartender.

What kind of bartender is this person if they’re not at the bar?

Lights rotate and blind its way in every direction. For a fleeting second, it lands on the person across from you, illuminating those unforgettable eyes and smile of its owner.

His eyes are just as wide as yours.

"It's you."

The barista- no, bartender, was Gavin.

#I had so much fun with this one #happy birthday Cheri #I CANT WAIT FOR YOU TO READ THIS SIDISJSJS #3k words!!#THIS WAS THE SPECIAL POST I WAS TALKING ABOUT #mlqc #mr love queens choice #love and producer #恋与制作人 #gavin #mlqc gavin #mlqc fanfic #Gavin week

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softbiker · 4 years

Text

Bucky Barnes Oneshot

Warnings: some language, excessive sun exposure, nudity (but no smut)

Word count: 5.4k (why am i like this)

A/N: This fic is very self-indulgent - it’s short on plot and long on summer vibes. Also, this is a reader insert fic, but I hate writing Y/N and using second person narration, so reader has been given an ‘Avenger alias’. Hope you like it. :) Basically, Bucky deserves this, and we deserve for summer to never end. <3 I hope you all enjoy it, and as always let me know what you think!!

P.S. here’s the playlist inspired by this fic

“Geronimo!”

Sam’s battle cry is the only warning before he takes the plunge; Bucky scrambles from his place on the boat deck, shielding his book with his towel and his hands in a last ditch effort to save the pages from water-logged ruin. He scowls as Sam resurfaces, breaching the water with a laugh and blinking to clear his eyes.

“Hey - watch it, bird brain.” Thankfully, his copy of Ender’s Game remains safe and dry, despite Sam’s carelessness. Wiggling his hips, Bucky scoots further back on his towel, away from the edge of the boat and hopefully out of the splash zone.

“You’re the one complaining about getting wet at the lake, Barnes,” Sam quips back, lazily swimming towards the ladder. “I’m not to blame here.”

“Doesn’t mean I want my book getting wet,” Bucky mutters. A bead of sweat slides down his neck - several beads actually; he can feel how flushed his face is in the dog day heat of a July afternoon. As he lays on his belly, pineapple printed beach towel spread underneath him; his sunglasses slowly slide down the bridge of his nose, his face too slick with sweat to hold them up properly.

“C’mon, guys,” Steve sighs. He couldn’t look less concerned if he tried - long limbs sprawled in the water, his star-spangled ass wedged firmly in a neon blue floatie, a can of beer in one hand. A pink patch of color has bloomed on his chest and spreads across his shoulders with each passing hour, despite regular reapplication of his sunscreen. “Can we not do this all weekend?”

“Mm, I’m with Steve,” a voice pipes up, languid and sleepy, from the sun deck along the top of the boat. “I don’t wanna listen to you two bickering for the next three days.”

Bucky’s mouth goes even dryer and his cheeks burn with a different kind of heat, tongue thick in his mouth at the sound of her voice. Embarrassment creeps up in him - why does he always let Sam’s ribbing get to him, damn it?

“Hey - he started it, Angel,” Sam holds up his hands in surrender, his own towel draped across damp shoulders. There’s a crystal droplet of water on the tip of his nose. “I’m just trying to have a good time.”

She peeks over the ledge from her coveted sunbathing spot, pushing her oversized sunglasses up on her head so she can fix him with a skeptical pout. Bucky rolls a couple inches sideways, leaning on one elbow to lift his gaze up to her. The sun blazes behind her, casting a vivid white corona of heat; the baby blue lurex of her bikini glitters against her skin, her limbs shining with coconut oil and sweat. She’s gathered her hair up on top of her head, but a few adorable baby hairs have escaped at the nape of her neck and her temples, curling sweetly in the humid, hazy air.

She’s only been with the team for a few months - new to the Avengers, and to superhero-ing in general. Operating alone for years, and cleverly flying under the radar, she’d found Tony Stark waiting for her in a refugee camp on the coast of Greece with a disturbingly complete dossier on her, as well as a job offer. Within moments of meeting her, the team dubbed her “Angel” - in slight awe at the way her glowing fingers healed Clint’s broken ones during their brief introductory handshake. From then on, she’s been their undisputed MVP, saving their accident-prone skins so many times they’ve already lost count.

“You know - that smells like bullshit, Sam.” The barest hint of a smirk tugs at her mouth, and even squinting in the sun her eyes are bright.

Sam sputters, playing at mock offense.

“Excuse me?” he says, a hand pressed to his heart.

“Just leave Bucky alone,” Angel rolls her eyes, letting her sunglasses drop back to shield her from the glare off the water. “And Steve? You might want to use a higher SPF, or you’ll need me to heal that later.”

Satisfied, she stretches back on her towel up on the sun deck, one arm long and lazy above her head, the other reaching for her phone - restarting one of her podcasts, Bucky thinks. Tiny wireless headphones tucked in her ears, she’s always listening to them; there’s a true crime one that she loves, but he can’t remember the name. Looking down at his chest, Steve seems to just notice the ripening sunburn on his skin. With a sigh, he flips himself out of the inner tube and into the water, swimming the short distance to the boat and pulling himself up the ladder in search of sunscreen.

Bucky ducks his head back down to his book. He tries to read, focus his eyes on the words in front of him - but, surprisingly, he’s almost too relaxed. He feels heavy, lazy, down to his bones; his eyelids droop and the words on the page run together. It’s not unpleasant, though - the heat has soaked right through his muscles, and for the first time in ages he finds that he’s not sore, not aching. Just a little tired, like a cat in the sun. Stretching and settling on his towel, he tucks his head in the nest of his folded arms and closes his eyes.

When Angel had proposed a lake weekend, inviting the team out to her family’s place in the woods, everyone had leapt at the idea. A few days spent in pure laziness, hours wiled away on the water or with a book, with no one to rescue and no battles to fight - it sounded too good to be true. Pure summer paradise.

Beneath him, the boat rocks dully on small waves. He feels himself lulled into a trance as his body sways gently in the same rhythm, back and forth. Paradise, Bucky thinks as he drifts off.

**********

That night, the sun lingering late in the sky, cicadas humming in the trees, the guys grill out on the deck at the cabin. It smells like heaven, fresh corn and burgers and mushrooms; inside the house, Wanda slices tomatoes and Angel stirs caramelized onions on the stove. At the island, Natasha patiently mashes avocados for her famous guacamole - made famous by the fact that it’s frequently her only contribution to family dinners.

“Wow, Nat, I think you actually got a tan,” Wanda smirks. “Right there, on your arm?”

“That’s just a freckle,” Nat scowls. “Which is why I use high SPF and don’t lay in the sun for hours.”

“Hey, at least you won’t get skin cancer,” Angel laughs, not looking up from her onions. Their smell wafts through the kitchen, mouth-watering and tangy sweet, mixed with the fresh and smoky air from the open window to the deck. Outside, the laughter around the grill bursts in a loud crescendo, Sam slapping Clint’s back as he doubles over in a fit of giggles.

“Sounds like they’re having fun out there.” Nat raises a sarcastic eyebrow as she glances out the window. Angel turns to look, too, her eyes pulled to the soft glow of the porch under the string lights overhead, the setting sun just beginning to burn red and gold through the trees.

Sliding off her barstool, Wanda skips over to the sliding screen door that leads out to the deck, pulling it open just enough to stick her head through.

“What’s so funny?” she asks, nearly shouting to be heard over the boys’ loud hoots of laughter. None of them answer, still caught in the flush of whatever hilarity had set them all going. Rolling her eyes, Wanda tries again. “Hey! Are we at least ready to eat? I’m starving.”

“Yeah, yeah, kid, we’re pulling ‘em off the grill right now,” Clint sighs, wiping his eyes. Even from her place by the stove, Angel notices Bucky’s bright open smile, so rarely seen it makes her do a double take. His color his high, his tanned cheeks flushed an adorable shade of pink; his hair is still wet from the shower, combed back from his forehead in a way that’s almost boyish, the tips just beginning to dry in soft brown curls.

Swallowing thickly, Angel drags her eyes back down to the onions and turns the burner off.

They gather around the long picnic table on the deck, sliding and shuffling around each other, a veritable summer feast laid out in front of them. The boys at the grill didn’t disappoint: Sam proudly slides a platter of corn on the cob next to the kebabs he made, while Clint carries a tray piled high with fresh burgers (and turkey burgers, at Nat’s request). Toppings and sides come single file from the kitchen - fresh sliced tomatoes, crisp lettuce, fried plantains and guacamole. Bucky’s mouth waters with each new dish that arrives at the table, his knees jammed underneath the table next to Steve.

“This spot taken?”

Angel smiles as she slides into the seat across from him; she had washed her face when they got in from the lake, fresh and clean, and pulled an old college t-shirt over her swimsuit. The scent of her coconut lotion drifts across the table. Bucky clears his throat.

“N-no. Go ahead.” He wishes his smiles were half as warm as hers, half as easy and sweet.

Her nose scrunches as she beams a little wider at him and stretches her legs underneath the table, her ankle resting against his calf. The brush of their skin sets Bucky’s nerves on fire, and he keeps expecting her to move, to flinch away. But her leg stays where it is, resting against his, as they laugh and eat with their friends; and every so often when her eyes catch his he wonders if he’s imagining the spark in them.

**********

If it’s possible to get a concussion from tubing, Sam will have one by the end of the day.

Bucky’s head is already swimming and dizzy from being thrown from the inner tube half a dozen times, skipping across the surface of the lake like a stone - he’d always thought Steve was a wild driver on a bike, but in a boat, with two of his friends pulled behind and gripping the handles of a rubber tube? Steve is an absolute maniac.

Inside the boat, Angel leans against Steve’s seat and grips the railing to keep her balance, watching the boys behind them on their wild ride from hell.

“Are you sure you should be going this fast?” she speaks up, a little nervous. “Do you even have a boating license?”

“Don’t need one - I was born before the cutoff date, got grandfathered in,” Steve yells back over the engine and the rush of the waves underneath them. Glancing back and seeing Bucky and Sam still hanging on, he cuts the wheel sharply, the boat arcing through the water in a donut that sends them cutting over their own wake. From the boat, it’s a mild discomfort, the deck bouncing on each wave; from the tube, it’s game over.

She winces as it happens - the two of them go completely airborne on the tube, and with a final scream Sam loses his grip and tumbles sideways, knocking Bucky off into the water with him. Without their weight, the tube sways in the wind for a moment before it drops back to the water, upside down and empty.

“They’re down!” Wanda laughs, and Steve cuts the throttle down, idling slowly back to where the bright blue and green of life jackets bobs in the water a hundred feet away.

As they pull up alongside Sam and Bucky, Wanda drops the ladder and Angel makes her way to the back of the boat, pulling the rope to bring the tube back up to the boat.

“Oof,” Sam huffs as he hauls himself up the ladder, immediately unsnapping the buckles on his lifejacket. “I think I’m done - yeah. Yeah, I’m definitely done.” He shrugs the lifejacket off his shoulders and drops onto a seat at the front of the boat. “Hey, why don’t you get out there and let me drive, Steve?”

“Nah, I’m good,” Steve smiles innocently behind his sunglasses, his hair windblown and spiky. “I think I’m just getting the hang of driving this thing.”

“I think you need a little more practice, punk,” Bucky groans from the ladder. “But not with me back there. I thought Hydra scrambled my brains enough but-” he grabs a towel and scrubs the side of his head, trying to shake the water from his ears. “-you’ve got me mixed up like a fruit salad up here. Jesus.”

There’s always a downbeat, an awkward breath, when he makes jokes about Hydra. Steve winces a little, and Sam purses his lips; Wanda looks away, pushing her hair behind her ears. Bucky feels his cheeks flush, frustrated and embarrassed.

“It’s probably just early-onset Alzheimer’s,” Angel giggles, breaking the silence. “I mean, you’re pushing 102? 103?”

Chewing the inside of his cheek, Bucky narrows his eyes at her.

“I don’t look a day over 30, you know,” he huffs, feigning offense as he hip checks her on his way to the cooler for a beer.

“Ok, boomer,” she sighs. She’s wearing a necklace today, a single cowrie shell nestled at her collarbone, and she’s changed out the blue bikini for a tie-dye one that makes him thinks of cotton candy. With his metal hand, he snaps the cap off his beer and takes a swig, raising a brow towards her in question. Angel shakes her head. “I’m good - but I’ll take a water.”

They pass around the bottles of water, and a couple of snacks; it’s only early afternoon, and they’re loathe to waste any of the beautiful day, all of them sprawled across the boat, sunning themselves liberally. Wanda wonders aloud what they should do, if everyone is done getting roughed up on the tube.

“Well, we could drive around to the waterfall - maybe go cliff jumping,” Angel suggests, wiping watermelon juice from her chin. The huge Tupperware bowl of fruit they brought has gone down swinging between her and Steve, Sam picking through to find the strawberries.

“There’s a waterfall?” Steve sits up, a slice of cantaloupe in his hand. Angel nods, picking a seed from her teeth.

“Yeah, it’s around that way - not too far from here,” she turns and points around a bend in the shoreline, towards the north end of the lake. “We could at least just take a drive over there - the breeze would be nice.”

They all agree on that - it’s a cloudless day, brilliant and sweltering without the slightest wind to stir up the air across the water. Sam swipes his brow, more damp with sweat now than water, and takes a swig of his beer.

“Let’s go, Angel.” He raises his bottle in salute. “Before we all die of heatstroke.”

It’s a small waterfall, just a stream coming down from the hills surrounding the lake, and running faster today because of the last week’s rain; but the cove is lush and blooming with trees overhead, humming with the lazy buzz of insects and busy calls of birds. Angel kills the engine near the entrance and lets Steve drop the anchor - the water here is clean and deep, and the cliff face rises stark and bright out of the water, the rocks stained with age.

“Oh, wow - it’s so pretty,” Wanda smiles, snapping a picture of the waterfall with her phone.

“And quiet,” Bucky observes. He can’t hear the sounds of other boats on the water, the cries of other swimmers on the lake.

“Yeah, nobody ever comes back here,” Angel shrugs. “It’s kind of a secret little place - my family are always the only people here.”

One by one, they peel off their shirts and tug their lifejackets on, diving into the sun-warmed water. Angel leads the way towards the waterfall, showing them all a small break in the rocks with a natural set of steps and handholds she found with her brothers, and they climb up the rocks bit by bit, happily exploring.

“You ever climb all the way up there?” Sam asks, pointing to the top of the waterfall, where an outcropping of the rock juts out over the water.

“Yeah, a couple of times,” she nods, looking up. “We used to jump from the top. I never liked it much - I’m a little scared of heights.”

“Race you Tin Man,” Sam punches Bucky’s arm, and without waiting for confirmation, takes a running head start at the cliff wall, jumping up to the first handhold he sees and working his way up bit by bit. Bucky scowls, but not one to ignore a challenge, he follows close behind, overtaking Sam in a matter of minutes as he scales the wall with just his hands.

Hauling himself up over the edge, he stands above the waterfall, looking out over the lake. It’s still only mid-afternoon, and the glare of the sun on the water is nearly blinding. Far away, tiny boats circle and weave across the surface, their paths leaving figure 8’s in the waves. Below, he hears Wanda and Steve and Angel talking, cheering Sam on as he climbs the last few feet to the top.

“I win,” Bucky smiles as Sam’s huffing and sweaty face appears over the edge of the rock.

“I hate you,” Sam pants, but he takes the hand Bucky offers and scrambles up to stand beside him.

“Hell of a view.”

Sam props an arm on Bucky’s shoulder, an endlessly annoying habit he has, but Bucky refrains from smacking his hand away. They stare out at the water as Sam catches his breath.

“Yeah, it is.”

**********

When they finally make their way back to the boat, the sun has crept along the horizon towards the late afternoon angle, and their arms and legs ache from climbing the cliff walls over and over. Wanda massages her shoulders, slicking her hair into a little wet bun on top of her head. Angel follows behind her, dropping her lifejacket on her seat and wrapping a towel around her shoulders.

Last one up the ladder is Bucky, his arms heavy in the water, eyes stinging, but happily tired from a long day spent doing nothing important. He can’t remember the last time he got to do something like this - just be, just have fun, nothing hanging over his head and no thoughts of tomorrow. He pulls up the ladder after him, folding it onto the deck, and perches on the edge of a seat next to Angel, wondering where his towel has gone.

“Oh - oh, Bucky, you’re hurt,” Angel sits up and leans closer to him. He holds his breath, her face inches from his own - but her eyes are down on his hand.

His flesh hand, which is currently bleeding all over his bright blue swim trunks.

Shit. He hadn’t even noticed - hadn’t felt it at all, but he must have cut it on the climb. The cut runs cleanly through the pink flesh of his palm, welling blood that trickles down his wrist, mingling with the water that still clings to his skin. It triggers something, makes his brain stumble, the bright stain on his thigh - his shorts are probably ruined. He opens his mouth and starts to say something, but the sound sticks in his throat.

Smooth, soft fingers slide over his as Angel grabs his hand. Covering his palm with her own, she frowns down at the wound, as her hand starts to shimmer and glow. He feels the heat of her power soaking into his skin, brighter than the sunlight overhead. It starts to flow down his wrist, and he wants more of it - he wants to bask in it.

Too soon, though, it’s over. The cut wasn’t all that bad, and it only takes a moment to heal. But her hand lingers, palm brushing his, the tips of her fingers tracing his pulse on the delicate underside of his wrist, where the pale pink stain of blood lingers.

“Better?” she asks, looking up at him, long lashes shading her eyes. Tentatively, he allows his own fingers to trace her wrist.

“Yeah. Thank you,” he smiles.

“Any time.”

**********

That night, as the sun sinks down and the fireflies float lazily up from the warm ground, they gather around the fire pit in front of the house. Spread out in canvas lawn chairs, they toast their marshmallows on wire coat hangers, squishing them between graham crackers and chocolate squares. Steve is suspicious of the treat at first, unsure about the pairing and perpetually wary of sweets.

“Just try it,” Wanda rolls her eyes. “It’s the perfect treat, trust us.”

Skeptical, he sinks his perfect American teeth into the crackers, through the gooey marshmallow chocolate layer, the melted treat sticking to his lips as he pulls away. He chews thoughtfully, quietly, wiping the corner of his mouth with his thumb as he considers. The rest of the group awaits his verdict, nestled in their chairs with their own s’mores.

“Yeah, okay,” Steve agrees, shoving the rest of the dessert into his mouth. He licks his lips appreciatively. “You’ve got a point there.”

“You know, I think you would’ve had to give up being Captain America if you didn’t like them,” Clint smirks, one cheek stuffed full. “I mean, who doesn’t like s’mores?”

“Yeah, but is that technically an American thing?” Sam wonders, reaching for the package of graham crackers.

“Well I’ve never had them anywhere else,” Wanda counters. She’s nursing her second pineapple ale of the evening - a drink she discovered when they stopped into a grocery store for supplies, and insisted on buying 2 packs to bring to the cabin with them.

Bucky isn’t paying attention to the Great S’mores Debate, not even a little bit. He can hardly hear them talking; he stares across the fire, warm sparks drifting like the fireflies above, as Angel licks chocolate from her fingers. The bright pink tip of her tongue darts out against her fingertips, savoring what’s left of the treat; he finds that his own mouth is parched and dry, a curious kind of hunger growling low in his belly, despite having had his own fill of dinner and s’mores. As she slips her pinky finger into her mouth, her eyes catch his from the other side of the flames, the firelight dancing in her eyes as she holds his gaze. The corner of her mouth twitches up just slightly, and she winks.

She winks.

Then, as the conversation takes another twist towards some kind of dessert or another, she quietly slips from her chair and walks away unnoticed, picking her way down the familiar trail to the dock in the dark.

Bucky glances around the group, and gauging that their conversation should serve as enough of a distraction, mutters some kind of excuse about needing the bathroom before getting up to follow.

Seconds later, Natasha turns to look at them - Angel’s form just visible between the trees and Bucky trailing along behind. She smiles widely over her beer, before settling back into her chair with a sigh.

“Finally,” she huffs, taking a sip. “Took them long enough.”

“Oh my god, right?” Sam raises his hands in exasperation. “I thought I’d hit my 100th birthday before that dickhead made a move-”

**********

She’s sitting at the edge of the dock, past where the boats are moored for the night, one knee tucked up under her chin as her other leg dangles with her toe in the water. She must hear him coming, his footsteps intentional and loud to his own ears on the wooden planks, but she doesn’t turn around. The lake is soft and still, wearing moonlight like a a silk robe, rippling reflected light across the surface. Above them the sky is cloudless and star-filled, cooled to a rich deep blue after the blazing bright day.

“Sometimes I would come down here at night with my dad,” she says, when he stands right behind her, unsure if he’s allowed to sit, if he should ask. She tips her head up over her shoulder. “We’d fish a little - threw them all back, though.”

“You didn’t keep ‘em?” Bucky asks, settling down beside her on the dock, letting his legs hang over the edge.

“No,” she shakes her head, scrunching her nose. “I felt sorry for them. Didn’t wanna hurt them, you know?”

He just watches her, the soft line of her profile in starlight, a smile blooming in his heart.

“Always been an angel, huh.” He doesn’t mean to say it, at least not out loud, but once it’s out he finds himself glad.

She looks at him then, not answering, but searching out his gaze with her eyes - they flit between his own, pupils wide in the dark. He licks his lips, wonders what she’s looking for, what she sees.

“Have you ever been night-swimming?”

Her question comes out of the blue, catching him off guard. He blinks - her mischievous eyes never leave his face.

“Um. I-I don’t remember,” he fumbles. “I think so. Way back, during the war. Not so much for leisure though,” he smiles ruefully. “I just knew I smelled awful and didn’t wanna risk being caught with my pants down, literally, in broad day.”

It startles a laugh out of her, a loud one, and his pride swells, inflating in his chest. The smile stays fixed on his face as he looks back out at the lake.

“Wouldn’t mind sometime, though,” he hints. “It’s beautiful out there at night.”

“Let’s go then,” she grins, using her hands to push herself up to stand above him. He blinks up, dumb at the flash of her smile.

“But, well…” he falters. “I should run back up to the house, I don’t have my trunks-”

“So?” she interrupts with a careless shrug. There’s something in her smile, and he doesn’t quite understand what she means until she reaches for the hem of her t-shirt and-

Oh. Oh.

Easy as that, smooth as a wave, she peels her shirt over her head, tossing it to the side. Her soft cotton bralette comes next, unhooked and slid down her arms, dropped onto the pile with her shirt. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, he swears, but he can’t bring himself to lower his gaze. She turns away with a little smile as she shimmies her shorts down, kicking them behind her to join the rest of her clothes, and he thinks he might combust if, oh god, there go her panties-

The cool splash of water as she jumps in jolts him back to himself, wakes him from the trance he fell into at the display of her body, her sweet summer skin, still smelling of coconut and watermelon. Her head bobs up a couple of yards past the dock, treading water.

“You coming or what?” she dares, feeling less bold now, but what the hell - she made her move. The water has cooled since the sun went down, and a little shiver runs through her. Yes, she certainly made a move. She bites her lip and watches him, waiting, hoping.

When he stands, she holds her breath - will he leave? Will he turn her down? Will he still be her friend? Then he reaches a hand behind his back and tugs his shirt up over his head, throwing it down onto the dock next to hers.

He’s every bit as beautiful by moonlight as he is in broad day - she’s always thought so, but kept it to herself, not wanting to make him uncomfortable. Now though…she admires him, as she allowed him to admire her; watches closely every long line of his body revealed to her as he undresses, the golden tan he’s earned the last few days on the lake, the course hair covering his chest, the sliding shadows of muscle beneath his skin…

Before he can second guess himself, Bucky dives in and joins her, popping up out of the water just a few feet away and slicking his hair back from his face. She smiles, playfully backing away; he grins right back as he gives chase, following slow but determined.

“See? Fun, right?” Angel giggles, feeling her heart beat a wild rhythm and hoping he can’t hear it. Bucky chuckles back, not answering, swimming just a few inches closer. The outline of her body glows in the moonlight, though he tries not to stare beneath the water.

“You’ve definitely convinced me,” he agrees. They drift out a little further - still not too far from the dock or the shore, but their little game of cat and mouse leads them out several yards. “You bring all the boys out here? Is it gonna be Sam’s turn tomorrow?”

“Hm…I haven’t decided yet,” she muses, pretending to consider it. “I think I’d ask Steve first - unless you think he wouldn’t be game for it.”

“Trust me, I know Steve Rogers,” Bucky laughs. “He’d die of embarrassment.”

“You’re probably right,” Angel grins. “Then maybe it is Sam’s turn.”

“Aw, you’re breaking’ my heart, Angel,” Bucky pouts, giving her the full force of his baby blues, a look he only ever reserved for his mother. Angel doesn’t fall for it; instead, she rolls her eyes and splashes a handful of water right in his face.

“You’ll be fine,” she shrugs, but hides her smile by ducking her head half down, nearly concealed in the water.

“No, I won’t,” he insists. He’s barely a foot away from her now. “I’m wounded, Angel. Really. I’m real hurt - I need your help.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah - I may not survive. You gotta help me.”

“Well, I think that’s in my job description.” Her eyes are full of moonlight, her face inches from his own. “Where are you hurt?”

He grabs her hand and places her palm firmly over his heart.

“Right here, honey,” he whispers, silly grin firmly in place. “You hurt me real bad.”

On cue, her palm starts to glow, the light filtering up through the water in glittering ripples that flicker across their faces. Just over his heart, his skin warms at her touch, a surge of energy and light and life straight into him, deep and true.

“Anywhere else?” she asks, her own voice so soft, barely heard over the cicadas in the trees.

“Yeah…here.” Taking hold of her other hand, he draws her arms up around his shoulders. His smirk twitches. “Must’ve pulled something climbing those cliffs.”

“Uh huh, sure,” she rolls her eyes, but ignites her hands anyway, the healing warmth soaking into his sore muscles and the ever-tender skin surrounding his metal arm. Not one to complain, he never mentions the trouble it causes, constant weight on his shoulders and neck, often giving him tension headaches at the base of skull. But here she is, melting it all away with a touch.

Slowly, cautiously, he lets his hands slide around her waist, thumbs gently brushing her last rib. Beneath his palms he feels her breath stutter and catch, her heart picking up. Their feet accidentally kick one another as they attempt to keep treading water, and she lets him wrap one of her legs around his waist to keep from kicking her.

“Anything else?” she whispers. He traces her face with his eyes, unable to distinguish her own glow from that of the moon beaming down on them. With a slow nod, Bucky rests his forehead against hers, shares a breath.

“Here,” he says, and tilts his head the last couple of inches until his lips meet hers.

In an instant, he feels warm all over; though his eyes are closed, he can see the light behind them like sun through closed blinds. It nearly burns, hot and holy and aching sweet, and his toes curl with it. She breaks away for a moment, just to smile so blindingly, sunbeams breaking beneath her radiant skin - and dives back in, laughing into his mouth as he tightens his hold and her hands go to his hair.

Adrift in a summer-warm lake, under a swollen July moon, they kiss and laugh and touch and play.

Under a moon half as bright, they glow.

#bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes one shot

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spaceorphan18 · 4 years

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Kurt Hummel Solos Ranked

Ever since I finished the Kurt Hummel Meta Series - Finding Kurt Hummel - I’ve been wanting to talk about the music a bit. Well, here we go. I have four different categories -- Solos, Duets, Small Groups Numbers, and Large Group Numbers, and I’m starting off with Solos.

Kurt didn’t have a ton of solos on the show, but that made them special when we did get one. Kurt’s solos are usually integral to his story line, and usually hold a great deal of emotion one way or an other. And while not all of them are 100% tied to his own plot - I think they all show bits and pieces of his character.

As a note - there are a few songs on here that may not initially be counted as a solo, but I’m doing so anyway -- either there’s a studio version with just his voice, or the tiny bit of someone else singing I’m kind of ignoring. For this discussion, I’m counting them as solos.

There are two songs, however, that I should mention first -- two short solos that didn’t have a studio release --

1. Pink Houses (Laryngitis, 1x18)

I still find this number quite hilarious. Kurt’s attempt at emulating his dad, and therefore singing John Mellencamp, to seem more ‘masculine’ is not only a great comedic spot, but shows us really what the opposite of who Kurt is. While, clearly, not a great song for Kurt -- we do at least get to hear Chris’s low register for once, and get a rare moment when we get to see Chris be actually comedic during a musical number -- something that didn’t happen all that often because Kurt’s musical numbers were usually serious in nature and involves a lot of crying. It’s not a great performance - but it’s a damn entertaining one.

2. Music of the Night (Choke, 3x18)

Another non-studio release for what is an extended comedic moment. Kurt’s right - his rendition of this is pretty bland, and you can tell he’s not putting forth his best effort. There’s clearly no emotional connection to the song that is a hallmark of his songs, especially his solos. That said - the scene itself is pretty entertainingly comedic -- from his ridiculous choreography, to Tina’s bored version of Christine, to the massive amount of candles on stage. The scene is a lot of fun - even if it’s not meant to be a serious performance.

So, with those out of the way....

Kurt Hummel’s Solos Ranked:

I should preface this with, these are, obviously, my own objective opinion. While I am taking into account performances and effectiveness of the song, at the end of the day, these are my own opinions, and everyone will have their own version of the list.

17. I’ll Remember (Goodbye, 3x22)

I don’t think that there are any bad Kurt solos. There are ones that I don’t think work all that well, and this is one of them. First off is the fact that I’m not a big fan of the song, originally done by Madonna. While the song does fit the moment lyrically, and I do buy Kurt singing it, the song itself isn’t that great. The performance is fine. Despite all the tears and wistful looks, it’s a bit standard of a performance that doesn’t lend itself to being all that memorable. Also, there’s the fact that this song is dedicated to all the men in the room. Ug, Glee your plot points suck sometimes.

16. Don’t Cry For Me, Argentina (Special Education, 2x09)

This is the first of a few songs on the list that are technically sung by two people, but this has a Kurt-only studio version, so it’s here as a solo. Kurt does relatively well vocally with this song. But it’s clear that it’s not his song at all. This is a Rachel song, which is made clearer as they sing it side by side as a comparison. While Kurt sings it technically and proficiently fine, he doesn’t embody the song the way Rachel does in the scene. (And that’s fine - the point is that it doesn’t fit him correctly.) Kurt is a little stiff and uncomfortable with this song, with a sense of emotion that doesn’t quite connect. And while fine for the scene that they’re doing - it lands this one low on my list.

15. I’m Still Here (Bash, 5x15)

This is Kurt’s last solo of the series, and, unfortunately, the only representative of season 5 (and 6), which is why it really pains me to put it so low on the list, but, also unfortunately, there are a lot of issues with it. First of all, at this point in the series, while old Diva Broadway numbers were his bread and butter - he had been growing past them, and while the song choice works for the story (mostly), the selection feels a little tired. Vocally, he’s proficient enough, though it lacks some of the grittiness and understanding of, say, an actual old school Broadway Diva. (I can see Rachel Berry singing this when she’s 80 a la Elaine Stritch.) The choreography is a little weird at times - but they did let Chris do the choreography of this one nearly by himself, and it shows a little.

One weird nitpick I have about this number is actually a production thing -- it’s clear that in the close ups Chris is doing better acting and giving more of an effort than he’s doing in the wide shots. It’s a weird thing to notice but between that and the tepid performance in general, it brings this one way down on the list for me.

14. Some People (Funeral, 2x21)

This one is a huge step above the others on the list, as the rest of this list is really a bunch of fantastic performances. Chris really brings it in this one (and fun fact, he helped do the choreography on this one), as Kurt’s energy is high and all of his moves here are quintessential Kurt classics. It’s like all of standard Kurt Hummel in one song, especially since it’s a classic old diva Broadway standard. While I don’t have any complaints about the performance, the reason it’s so low is for two reasons. The first one is the context -- it’s for an audition for a solo and not directly connected to any meaningful Kurt storyline. And secondly - it’s just not a favorite song of mine. But, Kurt at least gets to have a peppy and physically entertaining solo, which doesn’t happen very often, so it is worth a watch.

13. You Are The Sunshine of My Life

Honestly, the only reason this as low as it is, is because I’m not a huge fan of this song. There’s actually a lot of great things going on here. For one, this is a really sweet performance for Kurt as he sings a sentimental song for his dad. The choreography is silly, but it’s intentionally childlike as little Kurt came up with this with his dad. Kurt sounds really good when he’s in his lower register (I actually love his lower register - which isn’t complimented enough). And one thing I really like from second half of the series Kurt is that he’s less choreographed Broadway style and more reflective of the quirky weirdo that he is. And this performance is exactly that.

12. A House is Not a Home (Home, 1x16)

This is an interesting one, because there are a lot of great things going on here that bring it up the list, but a few things that very much drag it down. First of all -- it’s the first showcase in the show of something I don’t see Chris get much credit for (outside the fandom bubble). The fact that he’s able to act while sing. It’s a difficult thing that Chris does masterfully here -- it’s not easy to make a solo next to a piano visually enticing but he really sells it. Anyway - the way Kurt’s emotion bleeds through the song is perfect, it’s not too overt or too subdued. And we really feel everything Kurt is feeling in this moment. It feels real, in a way that isn’t apparent in a lot of the other characters when they sing songs (coughrachelcough). This song is a fantastic reflection of Kurt’s emotional stance, and fits into the story wonderfully.

Bringing it down... first of all, technically, Finn sings a verse of this. And while I don’t consider this at all a duet (duets, I feel, are sung together), it’s still there, and still a glaring ear-sore. (Sorry Cory.) It sticks out like a sore thumb that Finn’s voice is not suited for this material, and while I see what they were doing with the story, it’s cringey when it gets there. The other thing about this song is that it’s kind of uncomfortable to watch. Kurt sells all of his emotion, but it’s focus point is an unrequited love, and the discomfort on Finn’s face, as well as a few others, makes it not an easy watch. Still -- overall, this is a great number and a fantastic performance.

11. I’m The Greatest Star (I Am Unicorn, 3x02)

This is kind of an interesting one to talk about because there are a lot of conflicting things going on. It’s one helluva performance, it’s a terrible interpretation of the song, and it’s not a great choice of audition song for West Side Story (all of which was the point), but that doesn’t mean I don’t agree with Coach Beiste, that Kurt made the song his prison bitch. If nothing else -- this really showcases just how talented Kurt is -- not only can he act while he’s singing, he has other talents as well, such as climbing scaffolding and using sai swords. The comedic/tragic element of this song, for me, is the fact that Kurt’s trying to show off everything he’s able to do in one song -- and in effect, while being an incredible spectacle, kind of backfires for him. (If he had done this one for his NYADA audition - I would have bought Carmen Tibideaux’s remarks.) I think this is often an underrated Kurt solo due to the high level of proficiency that’s needed to pull this off -- but it’s also not the best Kurt has to offer.

10. Bring Him Home (Diva, 4x13)

This is another one of those Kurt/Rachel comparison numbers that I count as a solo because there’s Kurt-only studio version and because it’s not really sung together but side by side. What I really love about this number is that subtle delicacy that Kurt brings to the number. It’s sung with a restrained emotion that’s perfect for the number that is a pleasure to listen to when compared to the over-emoting mess that Rachel is doing next to it. The other fascinating thing I’m learning, as I do this list, is that there’s a sense of maturity about Kurt’s voice that I’m finding in the later seasons - which is really neat to listen for. My only real reason it’s as low on the list as it is - is because there’s the song holds no real weight for Kurt’s story. I kind of wish the Midnight Madness song had not been the popular number of the year thanks to Les Mis, but something more meaningful to their friendship - but ah well, for Kurt, it’s still masterfully done.

9. Le Jazz Hot (Duets, 2x04)

This is a fun number that really showcases Kurt’s talents and ability. I really love the moment at the end when he sings his entire range. Like I’m The Greatest Star and Some People, it’s a showoff number, but I think more so than those other two, Kurt really brings it extra in this one as the choreography and costume additions are incredibly inspired. It’s not his greatest vocal solo, or the most meaningful, which is why it’s a little lower on the list, but it’s quite entertaining to see Kurt push in so much on himself, especially when forced to do so by the story, and thus makes it a memorable solo.

8. I Want to Hold Your Hand (Grilled Cheesus, 2x03)

I believe with this one we’re getting into the iconic Kurt-solo territory. The show already knew that Chris was a great pretty crier, and that was used to great affect in this entire episode. The one really great thing that Kurt (and Chris in his acting) does is not over emote. He sings songs with great emotion, but it’s usually controlled and right under the surface, making it incredible compelling. (By contrast - Rachel is always over-emoting, and always giving the same kind of over emoting that feels bland the more you see it.) The fascinating thing is that Kurt draws you into his world and his pain with song, and while he’s not doing much but standing there, he is letting you get a glimpse of what is behind the guarded shield he uses so much. This is why Kurt solos are special, because they’re rare, and a rare glimpse of what’s going on in a character who blocks himself off so much from the outside world -- especially in the early years. While I just happen to like the other solos on the list more, I believe this is one of the best performances on the show.

7. Defying Gravity (Wheels, 1x09)

So. This is the last of the side-by-side comparisons that I have on the solo list. And I want to start by saying that vocally, even minus the intentionally botched note, it’s not very good. Honestly - go listen to the season 5 version, and you hear how much better a vocalist Chris became, and it’s really a treat to hear him grow into his voice. And I do think Rachel won this competition. However... there is something magical about this performance. First of all, the song is deeply resonant for Kurt (and for Chris) and that comes through clearly in the song. He embodies the emotion of the song in a way that Rachel (and I’ll argue Lea) doesn’t. The lyrics are meaningful, and are acted out superbly. And on top of that is a layer where Kurt is debating with himself as to whether or not he’s going to throw the song. The vocals might not be there, but the acting is, and the emotion is, and on that alone brings this song so high on the list. This is a character defining song if there ever was one.

6. Blackbird (Original Song, 2x16)

Do yourself a favor - go on Netflix and watch this one, the youtube version cuts off Kurt’s head, which really is a disservice to the song and the performance, but it’s the only link I could find.

First of all, I’m biased, because I really love this song. Kurt sings it beautifully, too, which helps. But really -- I think it’s an incredible story element on multiple levels. Kurt’s singing a eulogy for a dead bird, which is bizarre when written out. But this moment is perfect. It’s a moment where Kurt’s restrained emotion is channeled beautifully through song, and we see, again, an element of Kurt himself, who has been caged throughout the whole Dalton arc. So, it’s not only about the death of Pavarotti, but about the death of Kurt trying to be something he’s not - and the freedom that comes with allowing yourself to be you.

On top of that, it’s a pivotal moment in the Klaine story, where Blaine finally gets to see the raw emotion of who Kurt is, and realizes he’s in love with him. The fact that this song is so multilayered on top of a great and beautiful performance is really what makes it one of my favorites.

5. I Have Nothing (Dance With Somebody, 3x17)

This might be the most controversial choice on this list, but I’ll stand by it because it is one of my favorites. Yes, Kurt is straining to get to some of those high notes, vocally it’s a bit raw and forced. But my god, it’s one of the most stunning displays of emotion that he ever gets to do. Not only is this song about him, and the type of person he is, it’s also about love, and how Kurt expresses love.

Like so many of his best performances, there are a lot of layers going on here. Not only does it have the emotional intensity that A House is Not a Home did, but it has a razor sharp, singular focus that the other song lacks. Kurt is expressing himself, the best way that he can, to communicate to Blaine -- and the two of them have an unspoken dialogue during the song, which is really incredible. (The acting chops for both Chris and Darren here are really remarkable.) It is the most romantic performance on the list, and one of my favorite moments on the show.

4. The Boy Next Door (Choke, 3x18)

Believe it or not, this is one time I’d actually recommend the studio recording over the show performance. Despite lacking the Gold Lame Pants of Infamy, the studio version really showcases just how amazing this performance is. But anyway - unlike Carmen Tibideaux, who clearly doesn’t know our Kurt Hummel, there is nothing surface level about this performance. And unlike I’m The Greatest Star - this isn’t Kurt trying to shove everything he can do into one performance, it’s showcasing who he is as a person and a performer. Vocally, it’s fantastic, and I’m glad the later seasons allow Kurt to do more songs settled in lower registers - as that part of his vocal range is really quite beautiful. Visually, this is Kurt emulating a bit of Hugh Jackman while retaining some of his own, unique elements. This performance is truly special because it’s a time when Kurt realizes that it’s okay for him to be himself, and lets that shine through song.

3. Rose’s Turn (Laryngitis, 1x18)

Kurt’s first real big solo in the show, and it’s absolutely stunning. The fascinating thing about this one is, again, just how much is going on here. Kurt slowly gets to unravel, shaking off the expectations that he thinks society is putting on him, and blossoming into who he really is. This song is perfect for him as a character in this moment. While the vocals are a little shaky at times (I’m noticing that a lot about season 1 Kurt) the performance is not. We never really get to see Kurt be angry and gritty through song again, but I’m glad we do have this moment to show how it would go. I love everything this number chooses to be, and everything that it says about Kurt, which is why I feel it’s one of his best numbers.

2. Being Alive (Swan Song, 4x09)

There is something kind of magical about this song. And this is the reason that I find it tragic we don’t get an emotionally powerful song from Kurt after this point. (Though - after this point, we don’t get a long going individual Kurt arc either, so I suppose it makes sense.) But here’s the thing about this song... It is Kurt going inside himself, and reflecting on all the pain and heartache that his life has given him, and all the struggles he’s had in the change from child to adult, and almost unknowingly, as the song continues on, getting lost on that emotion as he reflects. It’s very hard for, I believe, for a musical number such as this to work on TV -- that relies on more action and visuals than other mediums. But as I’ve stated in all of these other entries -- Kurt (and Chris, really) is the master of reflecting all these different, conflicting emotions on his face, and making it visually compelling, even if it’s one person in a room, and nothing else going on. The emotion, the complexity, the story is all there in a performance much more mature than anything that had come before it. This is really one of the most beautiful and richly developed performances on the show, and truly one of the best that Kurt has to offer.

1. As If We Never Said Goodbye (Born This Way, 2x18)

I debated for a while which would take the top spot, and what I kept coming back around to was that while Being Alive is the most technically proficient, and deeply profound of Kurt’s solos... As If We Never Said Goodbye is the epitome Kurt’s character and story all wrapped up in one. It is his most iconic solo, and for a reason. It’s all of the emotion, vulnerability, and deeply layered story telling we get so often from Kurt Solos. It perfectly describes the journey this character has been on and where it’s going, as well as just being a fantastic performative piece. It’s helped by the fact that the show allows the whole five minute song to be sung, where we get to follow Kurt as he moves from one stage of his life to the next, again another song about coming out of his shell to reveal his true identity and what is buried in his heart. This song is why I love the character, and why I love his story. The fact that it’s subtle and refined, but having so many layers if you’re willing to look. It’s beautiful and imperfectly perfect, just like Kurt Hummel.

#finding kh #kurt hummel #kurt solos #glee #there ya go!#i'll be getting to the other categories later on this week

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clairecrive · 4 years

Text

“Comfort”- Ron Kray x reader [Requested]

the lovely @onl-you sent a while ago the prompt “Stop being a fucking dick” and I’ve also got a few requests about the Krays. So here are the two combined! I’m not 100% happy with this but oh well, hope you like it <3

Tag list: @deaflikehawkeye, @mollybegger-blog, @br0ck-eddie, @of-love-and-of-the-sea, @evelynshelby, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @sopxhiea, @fuseburner, @shadow-of-wonder, @fandom--0verdose (let me know if you wanna be added or removed)

Warning: mainly angst but got fluff at the end.

"Y/n, I'm home. You've no idea what a day I've had." Ron's voice was heard loud and clear throughout the whole house that was usually quiet. Whenever it neared the time where Ron was about to get home, y/n would always get things started for dinner. Ron would probably have to head out again to go to the club while her work tired her out so that she could never wait for him. Dinner was the only time when they could enjoy each other with no rush or time pressure and since they got together they quickly learned to take advantage of that.

"Ron? What are you doing here?" Y/n's voice came from the sitting room where Ron found her. She looked confused, or rather startled. Like she was abruptly snapped out of a daydream. He knew she did that a lot.

"What do you mean, what am are you doing here? You invited me over for dinner, last week." Hanging his coat he looked to see her shaking her head.

"Oh dear, I'm so terribly sorry Ronnie but I'm afraid I completely forgot."

"'s okay," he mumbled taking a seat on his chair. Something was off, Ron could tell, even he couldn't exactly pinpoint what it was. "Are you alright?" he asked her lighting a cigar.

"Of course, sweetie. Well, get yourself comfortable while I go and put something together for dinner."She offered and stood up to do exactly what she said. "Would you like a cup of tea, while you wait?" Her voice called for him from the kitchen after a while.

"Sure," he spoke out. However, there was no need because y/n was walking his way with a cup in her hands before he had finished talking.

"Here you go," she softly smiled at him after having sat down the cup on the table in front of him. Ron looked at the cup first, took it in his hands to inspect it and then moved his eyes over her. Y/n was already walking back into the kitchen, completely clueless. If before this Ron wasn't sure what was going on, this had proved that there was definitely something wrong.

"Honey..." he called for her while joining her in the kitchen so he could show her the water-filled cup.

"Yes?"

"There's only water in here," and to back up his statement he lifted the cup under her eyes.

"Oh goodness. I forgot to put the tea in it," her eyes widened at her mistake, her cheeks red with embarrassment, "I'm so so sorry, I've my head in the clouds today." She emptied the cup and put the kettle on to make tea. Before Ron could inquire about her strange behaviour, the phone rang and when she made no inclination to answer it, he did.

"Hello?" Annoyed for the interruption, he growled at whoever had called.

"Ron? Is that you mate?" Hearing his twin's voice made Ron furrow his eyebrows in confusion. He had just dropped him off, what could he possibly want now?

"Of course it is, who else would it be at y/n's home?" but Reggie completely ignored his brother's jealousy.

"What d'you called for?"

"Oh right, I called to check in on y/n. How is she?"

"Since when do you check up on my girl, mate?" If the fact alone that his brother was calling just after he had left him hadn't upset Ron enough when Reggie mentioned y/n, he really got angry.

"Would you stop being a dick, mate? Frances told me the news so I called. Y/n's family." Ron couldn't see him but he knew that Reggie was probably rolling his eyes at him and his behaviour. He couldn't care less though.

"What news?" This new piece of information made Ron push his anger aside for a moment. Apparently, his girl was keeping something from him.

"So she hasn't told you then?"

"No, but I figured that something was up. She's a mess, forgot that I was coming over and stuff," he mentioned to his twin to demonstrate that yes, he wasn't completely clueless.

"Yeah well, it would have upset me too. A lot actually, so be nice to her, alright?"

"I don't need to be reminded of being nice with my girl." Hearing his twin growl Reggie knew that his time had run short so he got straight to the point.

"Just don't be a dick like you usually are. I'll talk to you soon, bye Ron." The line went dead and Ron was stood there, phone in hand, head a mess.

Between the two, Ron was the one who was always quiet, he would only speak if he needed to. Or if he had something to say. Y/n was more chatty, granted she enjoyed her quiet time too otherwise Ron didn't think they'd work well together but she also came always to him whenever something was wrong. The fact that she hadn't and was acting weird, made Ronnie realise that this news had upset her a great deal.

Putting the phone down, Ronnie adjusted his glasses while he went looking for Y/n. Her house wasn't that big so Ronnie didn't think it such a hard task like it was proving to be. Where could she have gone? His call with Reggie had lasted a minute long, at most. Where could she have hidden in such a short amount of time? Calling out her name didn't help either so there was only a place she could be, Ronnie realized as he neared the ladder that led to the attic.

The squeaking of the wood and Ron's groans as he climbed and tried to fit his broad shoulders through the narrow opening were more than enough to alert y/n of his presence. However, as Ron spotted her near the window, she didn't move nor even flinched a little. Straightening his shirt, Ron walked up to her to join her in the sightseeing she was doing. Not that there were much to stare outside of the window but Ron knew from experience that looking at the lined up rooftops in the distance had a somewhat calming effect.

One of the other things that Ron and y/n had in common was that neither of them liked useless words. What was the point of saying things that one knew were ineffective just so that they could fill the silence? There was nothing wrong with being quiet. They both agree on that. And so, words of courtesy were never used between them when the other was feeling low for whatever reason. They simply stood by the other, letting them know that they were there and that whenever they were ready to speak, if they wanted to, they'd be all ears. So that's what Ron did.

Y/n had never told him but she had always found his presence comforting. He had something about him, maybe that stoic composed look he was always sporting did the trick. Y/n didn't really care for pointing out why it was, she just knew that he did and was very grateful for having him in her life. Resting her head on his arms, since she was too short to reach his shoulder, y/n tried to let her gratefulness slip to him. As his hand held her, y/n sighed knowing that she had to talk. Clumming up was a tendency she had, a rather toxic one and she had made a promise to herself to try and avoid it.

"I got bad news," she started quietly and continued when Ron grunted in support, "I... my mum is sick, Ron." y/n felt her throat constrict as she let the words out of her mouth. Feeling Ron's grip on her hand helped a little, but he knew that it was not nearly enough. y/n's relationship with her mother was really similar to the one Ron had with his. So he could perfectly understand what she was feeling and actually thought that she was handling it a lot better than he would.

"What did the doctor say?"

"They said she had cancer," only the word brought tears to her eyes, sniffling she pushed them back, " they don't know how serious it is but I mean it's cancer so it must be pretty serious right?" Now y/n turned to look at him, maybe she was hoping to hear him disagree with her, to assure her that it didn't necessarily mean that it was serious. But Ron couldn't know for sure, who the hell would he know, he was a schizophrenic gangster after all, he knew nothing about these things. What Ron could do though was offer some kind of comfort, a shoulder for her to cry on, gentle caresses and affection.

As everybody in London would say, he wasn't the affectionate type. If there was another thing that Ron loved more than silence was his personal space. However, contrary to popular belief and despite his mental problems, Ron wasn't incapable of love. Maybe the fact that he saw the world in a different way and the fact that he was a lot more sensitive than the average man, was what gives him the intel about love. y/n had never complained about this side of their relationship. Ron had a way to make very clear his emotions and feelings, even without using any words. She never felt dubious about his feelings for her for that very reason but also because whenever she would doubt herself or go through a hard time, Ron would always come through and face it all with her.

Meeting her eyes, Ron gently took her cheeks in his hands. Seeing the look of absolute despair and sadness, watching the tears that she failed to prevent from falling staining her beautiful face, he felt words failing him. What could he say to make her feel better? Absolute nothing, he knew. So he didn't bother. He gave her a soft peck and engulfed her in his arms in one of his rare bear hugs that y/n was always yearning for. The intimacy of this gesture was what made her break, though. Hugging him close to her, y/n couldn't stop herself from crying anymore.

The only thing that Ron whispered to her was that there was still hope, there was still a possibility that it wasn't that bad until the doctors didn't tell them otherwise. Maybe giving her hope wasn't the best thing to do but he felt like he had to remind her of this possibility. The warmth of his body and his gentle hands on her, after a while, succeeded in calming her. Pulling back a little so that he could look at her face, Ron saw that her tears had stopped too. Still with a soft voice, he offered to draw her a nice bath, he was even willing to join her if she wanted him too. His eyes softened when he saw a little smile tugging at her lips and felt incredibly proud of himself for that. Looking at her now, he realized that this is the only thing that he could do to help here: give her comfort.

#ron kray #ronnie kray #ron kray imagine #ron kray one shot #ron kray x reader #ronnie kray x reader #ronnie kray one shot #the krays #mobile legends #ron kray angst #tom hardy #tom hardy imagine #ron kray fic

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pedros-mustache-main · 4 years

Text

back to the hedgerows

summary: every relationship has its difficulties, you know that. but it just so happens that the first significant problem in your marriage to gwilym is more of a mountain than a molehill.

word count: 6k+ (oof she thicc-ish)

warnings: angst to the gods!, language, innuendo, assumed infidelity, allusion to child abuse, did i mention angst? like there is literally nothing but angst here and i’m absolutely living for it

a/n: hi, lovelies! super super excited to be sharing this collab fic i wrote with @almightygwil! as i am the self-proclaimed Queen of Angst, i’ve written the first part and ellie wrote the second (which is amazing), which will be coming out soon. we hope you enjoy and sorry in advance. :)

(side note: i do want to make it really clear that this is simply fiction. i don’t believe gwilym would do some of the things outlined in the fic below in real life. just fiction, y’all, and makes for good make-up smut a la ellie!)

you blame hulu for ruining your marriage.

unless it’s gwilym’s fault; maybe it’s yours. perhaps even charlie’s. whoever is ultimately at fault, you do know that if it hadn’t been for hulu, if it hadn’t been for ‘the great’, you wouldn’t be hastily packing your bags, shouting through tears for your son to gather his belongings and put them in the damn suitcase.

if it hadn’t been for hulu, you wouldn’t be on the verge of losing your husband for good.

“mama?”

you turn at the sound of charlie’s voice, small and shy, filled with concern. he stands in the doorway of your room, clutching his raggedy teddybear. the poor animal is threadbare and stiff around the edges. it is worn with seven and a half years of love, and try as you might to wean him off it, he won’t let go. so you don’t push the matter anymore. after all, a boy who has endured as much as he has deserves to love a stuffed animal for as long as he wishes.

“yeah, baby?” you hope your face isn’t as red and splotchy as it feels. but god you’re tired, tired of waiting by the phone like a fool when you know he won’t call, tired of wondering, tired of crying into your sleeve.

“is daddy gonna meet us at grandma’s?” his question is innocent enough, but it stirs the fire in your belly. your fists clench around the shirt in your hand, and you shake your head.

“no, he’s not.” you switch the subject, afraid that if you continue further, you will lose control. “have you packed your things?”

charlie nods. “come see!”

with a sigh, you drop the clothing in hand and follow. your legs are weary, as is your heart. it’s been a long week. if you’re being honest, it’s been a long few weeks. ever since you kissed gwilym goodbye at the airport, the days have grown longer and your loneliness has only increased. it’s rather sad, how much you depend on him, but he’s your husband, and you love him.

even this week, some part of you loves him still.

charlie’s room could be photographed and used in the dictionary as a reference photo for ‘pigsty’. in an effort to pack his suitcase, he’s unearthed everything in his possession and scattered it across the floor. you’d smile, but you’re too tired. instead, you pick a pair of trousers off the lampshade and step over a mountain of toys.

“i don’t know who you think is gonna be cleaning all this up,” you say, dropping the trousers in the suitcase, which is empty of clothes and full of toys and books. “also, i think you’ll need at least one pair of clean clothes at grandma’s. something besides these books.” you lift the first book you see, and a fresh bout of tears prick the corner of yours eyes.

brian’s first gift to charlie: a book on stars. the pages are dogeared and stained with food. memories—memories of brian and gwilym and charlie in the back garden, stargazing like a trio of schoolboys—fill each page. you set the book down, sure that if you open it and reread the heartfelt note from brian on the inside cover, you will burst.

“here, we’ll take this.” haphazardly, charlie lifts a pile of clothes from the floor and dumps them unceremoniously in the suitcase. for extra measure, he adds his favorite pajamas—a dinosaur onesie, given by joe. “we need to leave most of the room for toys.”

for the time first in days, your face softens. you reach out to cup your son’s freckled cheek. he truly is the light of your life. if you had to go back and do it over again, you would still say yes. even if it eventually led to losing gwil, you would always pick charlie.

“i’m sure grandma has toys waiting for you.”

“but not these toys.”

“no, not these ones.” you glance around the room and search for the muster to tell him to clean before going to bed, but the muster isn’t there. you don’t even have the heart to properly fold the clothes in his suitcase. “brush your teeth and get in bed. we have an early morning.”

charlie pouts and slumps against the bed frame. “but i can’t brush my teeth without daddy,” he whines.

“you’ve had to brush your teeth with him for weeks now, charlie.” your voice is tight, on the edge of rage, so you clear your throat and nod toward the bathroom. “hop to it.”

he drags his feet, but soon you hear the water running and the buzz of his electric toothbrush.

for a moment, you stand in the center of his room. you can still remember the day you moved in two years prior—newly married, newly a mother, everything so exciting and raw with potential.

charlie had stood in awe of the empty space, his teddybear tight against his neck. you’d watched him from the doorway, heart in your throat, and leaned against gwilym’s chest when he held your shoulder.

“i don’t think he’s ever had a room this big,” you’d whispered. “or one to himself.”

“how do you want to decorate it, charlie?”

at gwil’s question, charlie spun on his heel. his eyes narrowed, still wary of his new father. his gaze had slid to you, and you’d nodded in encouragement.

finally, speaking only to his shoes, he’d said, “i want planets.”

gwilym had laughed, shaking his head. “he’s gonna fit in just fine.”

you can still feel gwil’s hand on his shoulder and his breath on the curve of your neck. you can still feel the way his love for charlie in that moment made you marvel. no other man would be so willing to marry his girlfriend of seven months and adopted her former student three months later. but he’d been willing, and he’d been excited to start a new chapter.

father, mother, and son.

but perhaps now your worst fears have come true. perhaps gwil’s woken from the dream, realized his mistake in marrying you so fast, in agreeing to father a child not his own. perhaps that’s why he hasn’t called or reached out in four days.

you can only assume that’s why. assuming anything else might kill you.

when charlie reenters the room, toothbrush in hand, you palm at your wet cheeks and smooth a hand across your twisting stomach. you force a smile and take the toothbrush.

“i’ll put this in my bag,” you say. “where it’s safe from all the dinos.”

“mama,” charlie chides as he crawls into bed. “dinos need to brush their teeth too.”

“oh, of course! i just mean you don’t want to share dino germs. it’s bad for you.”

charlie rolls his eyes and tugs his comforter to his chin. “how do you know? have you read my books?”

“only a hundred times.” sitting by his side, you tuck the covers around his small frame. you release a slow sigh and study his face. “grandma is going to be so excited to see you,” you say.

“is she nice?”

“always.”

“why haven’t i met her before? i’ve met daddy’s parents, and grandpa brian and grandma anita. why not your mummy and daddy?”

you shrug. “life’s been crazy, and they live very far away. but they’re bursting to finally meet you.”

“but daddy’s not coming?”

you snap before you can stop it. “i wish you’d stop asking that! daddy is not going to be there!”

when you open your eyes, charlie’s are filled with tears and his lower lip quivers. it’s rare that you lose your temper. months of counseling before and after adopting him taught you to control your anger—however justified it may be. his home before yours had not been kind, and any hint of unhappiness sets him on edge.

cursing under your breath, you lean forward, pressing your hands to his shoulders. “i’m sorry, baby.” the pools of tears in your own eyes match his, and you wonder if it is possible for tears to run dry completely. “i’m sorry. i’m not mad at you, sweetheart.”

a fat tear rolls down his cheek, and you brush it away, swallowing past the lump in your throat.

“daddy’s at work,” you say. “he can’t come. but i bet—i bet he’s missing you right now and wishing he could be there.” the words taste like a lie, bitter and sinful. still, you say them, hoping they will ease charlie’s fears.

“well, maybe he’ll surprise us.”

clenching your jaw, you nod. “maybe he will.” rising, you kiss his forehead and ruffle his sandy hair. “goodnight. fall asleep fast because before you know it we’ll be leaving.”

with a yawn, he curls onto his side. “i’ve never been on a plane before,” he whispers.

“there’s a first time for everything.” you kiss his temple again and tiptoe out of the room, but not before tripping on a mislaid firetruck.

in the solace of your bedroom, you drop to the carpet beside your bed. your head falls against the firm mattress. your fingers itch to reach for your phone but you stop yourself. it’s a bad habit, always has been. you check your phone too often because the worrier in you is convinced if you aren’t attached at the hip, something dreadful will happen and you’ll miss it. this past week, it’s gotten worse. every few seconds you flip your phone over and wait for the screen to light up. the photo of gwilym and charlie—charlie on gwil’s shoulders, ice-cream smeared all over his cheeks—is always devoid of any new messages. well, any new messages from gwilym, and that’s all you’re looking for.

you knew keeping in close contact would be difficult; you weren’t that naive. you’d expected periods of silence on either end. charlie was a handful and, with school ending for the summer, your full-time job became keeping him out of trouble. gwil was thousands of miles away in a different timezone, not to mention working odd hours. you could handle a day, maybe two, with simple texts—a short good morning or hasty i love u written as you run out the door—but it had been four full days since you’d last heard even a murmur. and that wasn’t counting the week before when day by day his responses grew shorter and his calls more infrequent.

god, you hate him.

aside from your mother, your reason for leaving the country remains secret. you’d tell your cousin, katie, but she’d get too worked up. hell, she’d probably board the next flight and rough gwil up herself. you’d tell joe, ask if you could crash in his apartment with charlie on your layover in new york, but you’d rather not subject him to your marital issues. you’d ask anita for advice, but you can’t stomach the idea of crushing the good image she has of gwilym.

so, you stay quiet. suffer in silence. it’s easier for everyone else that way.

just as you’re about to stand, shower off the layer of disgust forming on your skin, your phone pings. the way you dive toward the bedside table is pathetic. your fingers scrabble, shaking, as you lift the phone. flipping it over, the screen lights up, that stubborn sliver of hope in your heart coming to life as you wait.

a text from the airline. confirmation of boarding numbers.

your eyes flutter shut. you should feel disappointed, but you aren’t. it’s what you’ve come to expect. you’d given up two days earlier, finally decided that if gwilym wasn’t going to answer any of your voicemails or texts, then you’d simply stop nagging him. clearly, he wasn’t interested in being a husband or a father at the moment.

dropping the phone to your bed, you head for the shower. the water is too hot, scalding your skin, but it feels good. it feels like something. you press your hand to the steamed glass and allow the water to run down your face, fill your eyelashes, stream off your nose. you breathe hard against the pain in your chest.

an image—your wedding day—flickers to mind: katie’s backyard, covered in string lights; your gown, hastily bought from the local dressers; the night sky, alive with stars. aside from your cousin and gwilym’s family, the ceremony had been next to empty. you needed to get married fast in order to speed the adoption papers along, and you didn’t mind the small gathering. charlie had sat on katie’s lap the entire time, rolling the ring cushion between his hands. he’d been so small then—five years old and already so scarred by the world. but gwilym had held out his hand, beckoning charlie over during the vows; he’d crouched, looked deep into charlie’s eyes, and promised to love and care for him as his own—the memory made you choke on a sob, the sound echoing around the shower walls.

god, you hate him.

you slip into bed, hair wet and unbrushed, with a groan. travel to prince edward island and your parent’s retirement home will be long and exhausting. an eight hour flight from heathrow to jfk, a six hour layover in new york, and then another flight to charlottetown. your head already aches, and you haven’t even reached the airport.

despite everything in you screaming don’t do it, you check your phone one last time. it’s blank, but you pull up gwil’s name in your messages anyway. as quickly as you can, averting your eyes from the long line of unanswered texts, you type your message:

headed to pei. taking charlie. don’t have a return date yet.

message sent, stomach churning, you fall into a restless sleep.

you’re antsy. after eight hours on a plane, your legs are tight and you long for fresh air. charlie’s in much the same state. though he’d enjoyed the novelty of a plane ride for the first hour, for the remaining seven it was a chore just to get him to sit still. now, he’s bouncing on his heels, teddybear in hand, humming a nonsensical tune far too loud in the line to the toilet.

“charlie.” you squeeze his hand tight. “shush.”

the line inches forward, and charlie blows a raspberry with his tongue. “i’m tired, and i’m hungry.”

you sigh. “i’ve just got to go to the loo and then we’ll find something to eat.”

“are we going to go into the city?”

“no, i don’t think we have the time.” it’s a lie—you have six hours to kill—but you can’t think of anything you’d do that wouldn’t make you pine for gwilym. it’s easier to stay in the cool airport, plug charlie in with a movie, and read your book.

“doesn’t uncle joe live here?”

“yes, he does.”

leading charlie into the bathroom, you corral him to the nearest open stall. he pushes his forehead against the stall door, his back turned to you as you relieve yourself.

“we should go see him.” his voice is muffled against the door, and you try not to think of all the new germs crawling over his face.

“i told you, baby, we don’t have the time.”

after washing your hands and exiting the bathroom, you find an empty table and sit down. charlie sits next to you, his legs swinging back and forth. he watches the people passing by, and you wonder if he’s picked the trait up from gwilym.

he looks so much like gwil it’s startling. maybe it’s because you’ve watched them side by side the last two years, but charlie truly does look like gwilym’s natural born son. it’s in his face: the soft eyes, strong nose, full lips. it’s in his mannerisms: his easy smile, soft voice, eagerness to listen. not for the first time, you wonder if you’ll have any more children and if they will take after their father. you used to hope so; now you’re not so sure.

shaking your head, you clear your throat and reach for your phone. you’d left london to get away from the house so full of memories and sweet times together. you’d left london to have a moment of peace, cry in the arms of your mother, and figure out what to do next. you didn’t leave home just to have it all follow you.

sliding open the phone, you search for joe’s name in your contacts list. you dial the number, glancing at your son as the phone rings in your ear. some part of you hopes he won’t answer, so you don’t have to answer any questions. another part of you wants—needs—a familiar face.

he picks up on the third ring. “[y/n]! to what do i owe this great honor?”

you find yourself smiling at the genuine happiness in his voice. “well, it’s short notice, but charlie and i are currently sitting in jfk. we’ve got a six hour layover...” you let the implication hang in the air, knowing full well he’ll pounce.

you can already hear his keys jangling on the other end. “i’ll be there asap.”

an hour later, you’re sat in a restaurant overlooking times square. you hadn’t planned on going into the city, but joe insisted. he wanted to show his nephew the sights—as many as he could in a few hours time—but charlie insisted he be fed first. now, sitting across from your son and joe, plates laden with overpriced food, you notice a lightness in your chest you haven’t felt for some time. it’s nice to see someone you care about, and joe is unusually tactful in his conversation. he’s tiptoed around the topic of gwilym and ‘the great’ and for that, you’re thankful.

“so, charlie’s told me all about school, which, apparently, rocks,” joe says between bites of a burger. “what’s up with you, [y/n]? how’s married life treatin’ you?”

you know it’s partly a jest—he’s asked the same question nearly every time you’ve spoken since you married gwilym—but there’s also a level of true interest in his query. but you shift in your chair, wincing as you turn to look at the busy street below. and perhaps he notices because he hurries to say instead:

“seen brian lately?”

this you can answer without crying or shouting or slumping low in your seat. nodding, you look to charlie. “we went over for dinner a few nights ago, didn’t we? tell joe what grandpa bri said.”

charlie keeps his focus on his mac & cheese as he speaks. “he said if i tried really hard i could have hair like his, but i told him i don’t want to look like a poodle.”

joe laughs, his head tossed back, his hands clapping together in sheer joy. you laugh, too, despite remembering the utter embarrassment you’d felt at brian and anita’s dining room table.

charlie grins, his eyes darting back and forth between each adult’s reaction. he’s pleased with himself, the pride on his face all too real. “mama made me say sorry.”

“i hope she did,” joe says with a chuckle. “that’s brutal, charlie.”

charlie’s forehead puckers in a frown. “daddy says always tell the truth.”

“yeah, but you gotta...” joe waves his hand, shaking his head. “never mind.”

a moment of quiet falls over the table. you’ve barely touched your salad, finding that, although your stomach growls with hunger, you don’t have the energy to eat. joe’s looking at you with open curiosity, and it makes you squirm. he knows something’s up, but now is not the time to unburden yourself. not with charlie sitting so close, not with your heart as tender as it is. one wrong move and you knew you’d fall into joe’s arms, a sobbing mess in the middle of the restaurant.

what dignity you have left, you’d like to preserve.

“what do you think about going to the park?”

joe’s eyes narrow across the table. “central park?”

“you said you want to show charlie the sights.”

joe glances at your unfinished food then your face. still, he says nothing. instead, he pays for the meal, even though you try and slide your card over his when the waiter comes by. you leave your salad and grab charlie’s hand as you exit the restaurant. you’re possessive that way—always needing to hold on to some part of your son; you’re the same with gwilym. neither seem to mind, so whenever you’re able, you hold charlie’s hand while crossing the street or you run your nails gently over the back of gwil’s neck as he likes it. you suppose, with charlie, it’s a mother thing. one day he won’t lean into your shoulder when you wrap an arm around him, so you take every chance to hold him that you can. you suppose, with gwil, it’s a wife thing. though you aren’t a huge fan of pda, you like letting others know he’s yours.

you hope he still is.

the day is warm, sticky with humidity. as you walk the few blocks to central park, joe points out his favorite landmarks. charlie seems interested enough, though he’s much more concerned with pointing out every pigeon than he is responding to joe’s explanations of the buildings around him. a fine pool of sweat gathers under your arms, and you soon shed your cardigan. the frigid air conditioning of the airport will be a welcome feeling once you’ve returned to jfk.

joe leads you to a playground, tucked away behind overgrown hedges. charlie drops your hand and rushes for the jungle gym, his faithful teddybear flinging in the wind behind him. with a soft smile, you collapse on the nearest bench and reach for your water bottle. after a sip, you offer it to joe, who shakes his head.

you know what’s coming. he’s going to ask about gwilym, and you’re going to have to come up with a suitable answer. you don’t have a suitable answer, not one that would keep your issues private but at least clue him in somewhat. finally, when the silence is overbearing, you give a short sigh.

“well, out with it, mazzello.”

he feigns shock. “out with what? i’m enjoying the sound of the birds.”

“you’ve been studying me all through lunch. tell me what you’re thinking before i scream.” you know you sound petulant, but it’s hot and eight hours on a plane with a wiggly child was hard. more than anything, you want to be home—not in london. the last two weeks have been hell, walking through the halls, visibly watching gwilym slip away, and having no clue what to do. no, you want your mother, and her home—whether it be prince edward island or the ridiculous summer home in lyon—is your home.

joe glances sidelong at you, his face drawn tight. when he speaks, his tone is serious, one you don’t hear from him often. “is there something going on? between you and gwil?”

despite knowing it was coming, the question still makes you want to wretch. you look away, curling your hands around the water bottle. it cracks between your fingers.

you decide to lie. it’s easier that way.

“no... no, not really.”

joe tries, but fails to catch your eye. “it’s just that... you seem really depressed. i thought maybe with him being gone...”

he’s given you an excuse—maybe on purpose, maybe on accident—but you jump for it, cursing yourself for not thinking of it on your own. “i mean, yeah, it’s been hard. it’s been—fuck—nearly two months now.”

“that’s a long time.”

you nod and return your attention to charlie, who is swinging on the monkey bars with ease. “yeah, it is, but he should be due for a few days off soon. he might be able to come back for a long weekend.” you grit your teeth against the words. they taste sour, and you take another sip of water to wash away the bad taste.

“[y/n]—”

twisting on the bench, you give joe a look that shuts his mouth with a snap. “we’re fine, joe,” you say, though, now more than even, it is clear you are not fine. you hold his gaze, daring him to push further.

he doesn’t. he just stands, hands in his pockets, and shuffles over to charlie with a nod.

wrinkling your nose against the sudden sting of tears, you lean back against the bench. a branch from the bush behind you digs into the skin of your shoulders, and any breeze which drifts your way smells vaguely of piss. that’s new york, you suppose: people as prickly as branches and the persistent smell of bodily functions. altogether, not terribly different from london.

your phone pings, but for once, you hold still, your tongue clamped between your teeth. your heart tells you it’s gwilym, finally woken from whatever slumber he’s been under, apologetic and eager to make amends. your mind tells you otherwise; it’s likely the airlines or your mother or katie. never gwilym; not anymore.

the message on your screen is from instagram, and you ignore the traitorous twinge of disappointment in your chest. frowning, you open the app, certain you’d turned notifications off long ago. what loads first in your timeline is a series of five photos. days off in pompeii, gwil’s caption reads. you don’t bother to swipe through the photos. you exit the app, delete it for good measure, and slide the phone back into your purse.

rising from the bench, you find joe and charlie hunkered beneath a slide. they’re imagining dinosaurs and jeeps and dangerous missions in the forest. with a smile, you drop to your hands and knees and join them, intent on enjoying what time you have left.

joe drops you off at the airport with plenty of time to spare. in the cell phone parking lot, you gather around the hood of his car for a final goodbye. joe slips charlie a fresh five dollar bill for the snack machine when he thinks you aren’t looking, and it’s the most uncle move you’ve ever seen. it warms your frigid heart, so much so, you nod to the back of the car.

“make sure you haven’t forgotten anything, love. we don’t know when we’ll be back if you’ve left something.”

charlie ambles his way behind the car, inspecting his new money, and when he’s out of earshot, you turn to joe.

“i’m going to talk,” you say. “and you’re going to listen and say nothing when i’ve finished. is that understood?”

his eyes are wide as he nods.

“i haven’t heard from gwil in nearly five days now. last week, his texts got shorter and more infrequent and he stopped calling. this week, he hasn’t responded to any of my messages, voicemails, or otherwise. so two days ago, i gave up and i stopped reaching out. it’s been radio silent since, and i don’t know why. so, that’s what’s going on, and why i’m so goddamn depressed. but if i find out that you’ve called him and tried to make him see sense, i will never forgive you, joseph. do you understand me?”

his only response is a shocked blink, but it satisfies.

“it’s my marriage,” you continue. “i have absolutely no idea what i’m doing, but it’s my marriage, and i’ll figure it out whatever way i can.”

there’s a pause then joe crushes you against his chest before you can stop him. his hug is painful. your left arm is caught between his chest and yours, your right shoved across his shoulders awkwardly. his arms tighten the strap of your purse against your neck, and you’re sure there will be a harsh red line when you pull back. but you don’t care. you let joe hug you. there’s pity in the embrace, but more than that, there’s love, and you feel it. love for you, for gwil, for charlie.

charlie’s voice breaks the moment, for which you’re glad. a second longer and you’d have started crying. “i didn’t leave anything but i found a dollar.”

wiping the underside of your eyes, you push away from joe and turn to your son with a smile. “wow—six dollars in one day! what are you going to do with all that cash?”

charlie shrugs and shoves the bill in his pocket. “i dunno. maybe buy my own plane.”

“so fiscally responsible. i’m proud.” joe ruffles charlie’s hair, grinning. “will you let me take a ride for free?”

charlie looks joe up and down then nods. “i guess. you did buy me lunch, so it seems like a fair trade.”

“we’d better go.” you reach for charlie’s shoulder. “thank you, joe,” you say, hand curling around the handle of your suitcase.

his smile fades around the edges, and you see a sigh lift his shoulders. “take care of yourself, [y/n].”

“i always do.”

he rolls his eyes. “you know what i mean.”

you look away, but nod. “tell your family we said hi.”

joe sticks his hand out to charlie, who shakes it with some trepidation. “look after your mom, charlie.”

“yeah, okay.”

you leave, bags dragging behind you, slamming against your ankles, with a wave. it hurts to watch joe stand there, hands in his pockets, ratty baseball hat on his head, looking so forlorn. you know that, if you asked it, he’d find gwilym and make him set things right. but this is your fight. no one else’s.

an hour and a half later, you’re strapped in your assigned seat, charlie’s head on your lap. his cheek is hot against your thigh, his chest rising and falling to the gentle rhythm of sleep. as the plane takes off, you glance out the window and watch as the world fades from view. you can’t help but think that somewhere below is a family much like yours.

you imagine them sitting down to dinner, laughing, catching up on the day, looks of love shared across the table. you imagine the mother and father, finding a moment of stolen passion against the pantry door as the son settles down for an evening movie. you imagine her laugh as he mumbles filthy things against the skin of her neck, things that set her heart ablaze. you imagine the way his hand strokes over her leg throughout the movie, his eyes meeting hers every now and then over their son’s head. and you imagine him laying her down on the bed, caressing, loving, worshipping her until they are spent.

some time ago, your life had looked similar. it doesn’t anymore, and you aren’t sure why or what you’ve done wrong.

the flight attendant pulls you from your thoughts. “can i get you anything, ma’am?” she asks.

a flood of answers rise to your chest. a phone call, an answer to prayers, my husband. instead, you shake your head. “no, but thank you.”

your parent’s home is picture perfect, like something out of a magazine: the long, winding drive framed by lush trees, the pale stonework crawling with ivy, the faded green shutters, and chipped picket fence. you’ve come once since it was bought. your parents, ever the world travelers, surprised you when they announced their move to their maritime provinces, and due to your teaching job, new relationship with gwilym, and concern for your student charlie, you’d only had the chance to visit for a short weekend.

as your father pulls up the drive, you nudge your mother with your shoulder. “if i didn’t know any better, i’d say you were trying to be anne shirley, mother.”

your mother tosses her head back with a laugh. her sunglasses are overly large, but you can still see the laugh lines around her eyes. “of course i am, dear. much to your father’s chagrin.”

from the driver’s seat, your father merely huffs. he makes a face at charlie who, buckled tight in the passenger seat for the last few miles of the journey, giggles behind his hand.

your mother slides her hand across the bench. her fingers tap the bone of your wrist, and you look away from the window. she’s pushed her sunglasses over her hair, and her painted lips are drawn light.

“we’re so glad you’re here, sweetheart.” her tone is soft, apologetic.

the corner of your mouth twitches into something close to a smile. “me too.”

“okay, last stop. everybody out.” your father parks the car and pops the trunk.

you follow your parents to the front door as charlie races around your legs, babbling questions and comments as if he’s never spoken a word in his life. your father, who bears the brunt of charlie’s attention, takes it all in stride. tim, your brother—god help him—blessed your parents with eight grandchildren before you managed to give them one of your own. anything charlie has to throw at your parents, they will surely be able to handle.

after a light supper, charlie convinces his new grandfather to take him to to the river at the base of the property. he’s eager to find worms and, if your father can get free labor in return for fish bate, he’ll take it. they walk off, the sun dipping closer to the horizon as the day draws to a close. your mother stands in the doorway and nods her head toward the garden.

“come help me.” her request is more of a command, but you listen, grabbing a watering can from the back stoop as you trail after her.

the air on the island is fresh, slightly salty but sweet. you breathe deep, reveling beneath the open sky, unobscured by wires or skyscrapers or aircraft. your mother’s garden sprawls across the backyard. a ladder rests against the apple tree in the corner, heavy with fruit. raised flowerbeds with soft brown dirt sprout with tomatoes and snap-pea vines and peppers. a strawberry patch, struggling but alive, stands on its own. there’s a foam pad on the ground, and your mother kneels on it, reaching for her gardening tools.

“there should be some grape tomatoes ready,” she says, pointing to the plant. “gather what you can in this.” she passes you a paper container, and you set to work.

the birds twittering and the unhurried breeze work to soothe the ache in your soul. you could get used to this, a simple life here. the thought startles you, and you drop the tomato in your hand. it lands on your foot with a splat, covering your toes in sticky juice.

coming here, leaving london, you never thought for a moment it would be permanent. you just needed a change of scenery, a place to clear your thoughts. you have no intention of leaving gwilym. god, though he’d ripped your heart out, until he said the words, you’ll stay by his side forever.

“sweetheart? [y/n]?”

you look up. “huh?”

your mother frowns. “you’re just standing there.”

“am i? oh, sorry.” you turn back to the tomato plant and rip whatever red bubble crosses your eyeline. the tomatoes drop to your container with a muted thud, echoing the fragile beat of your heart.

“do you want to talk about it?”

you meet her gaze, and the worry, the concern, the love there nearly drives you to your knees. for days on end, you’ve been shoving it down—the fear. it’s not helpful, not to you or charlie or anyone else. for days on end, you’ve been choking back your anxiety, telling yourself it’s all just a misunderstanding. now, in your mother’s garden, with the weight of the world bearing down on your shoulders, you break.

the tomato container falls to the ground as your hands clamp against your mouth. you cannot stop the sobs which shake your frame, but you can at least muffle them against your fingers. the world becomes hazy, a blurry mess as your tears flow free and steady. vaguely, you’re aware of your mother’s arms around you, holding you tight; her hands rub soothing circles over your back. she smells of vanilla and shampoo.

you don’t know how long you cry, but when you finally step back, the sky is a dark red. you wonder if charlie’s come back from the creek, if he’s seen you in such a state. you pray to god he hasn’t. gently, your mother leads you to a wooden bench tucked against the fence. you sit together, your head cradled between her chin and shoulder. she smoothes your hair with one hand and holds your other.

“i’m so afraid, mum,” you breathe. your throat is clogged with emotion, your nose, too.

“of what?”

sniffing, you wipe your nose. “that he’s gone and met someone else. that he’s forgotten us.”

you feel her shrug against you. “well, i’ve only met the lad once, but he doesn’t seem like the type.”

“he’s not,” you say, stronger, clearer. “he’s not. but it’s been five fucking days. five days! and he’s been half-there for longer.”

“i don’t know what to tell you, love.” she twists to look at your face. “your father and i... we’ve had a good run of it, but that doesn’t mean we’ve not had our own issues. sometimes—sometimes people hurt those they love most.”

“did dad ever disappear on you?”

“no, i can’t say he did.” she sighs. “but he did shag my best mate cheri.”

“aunt cheri?”

nodding, your mother looks into the distance. “i nearly chopped his balls off.”

“why didn’t you?”

“because we love each other. we worked it out.”

with a scoff, you look away. “you’re in the minority.”

“you can be in that minority, too.” she grabs your hand. “your relationship... everything you’ve had with him has been so much so fast—”

“i know.” your head drops as a fresh flurry of tears rise. “that’s what i’m afraid of.”

“you didn’t let me finish.” your eyes lift to see her watching you, a faint glow of motherly pride on her cheeks. “everything you’ve had with gwilym has been so much so fast, but every time i see your photos or your videos, he looks like he’s about to fall over because he loves you so much. i don’t pretend to know what’s going on in his head; i’d reckon he doesn’t know either. but you have something worth fighting for, [y/n]. i’d hate to see you give that up.”

“i don’t want to,” you whisper.

“then don’t.”

you kiss charlie’s forehead and slip out of the guest room, shutting the door behind you. the house is quiet, asleep before ten thanks to the excitement of the day and the weariness of travel. you find your bedroom, cozy, tucked away in the third floor attic. your mother claims she had it redone just for your visits. the window seat framed by bookshelves and the wrought-iron bed frame remind you of your childhood room, yet there is an elegance here your room lacked as a child.

after readying yourself for bed, you glance about the room. the rug beneath your feet is soft to the touch, and the upholstered chair in the corner has a fresh set of bath towels. there’s an exposed brick wall with three photos nailed to it. you step closer to inspect.

three photos.

a family photo from age nine, your parents side-by-side, your brother’s arm slung around your shoulder. much of your childhood consisted of moving from country to country, always following your father’s job. you’d been happy, though, and looking at the photo now, you feel a surge of gratitude.

a photo of your first classroom, the students sat at your feet. charlie stands directly to your left, his face leaning into your hip. you hadn’t known then, what he would mean to you know. you run your finger across his face, still pudgy with baby fat.

the third and final photo, a picture from your honeymoon. the austrian mountains tower over you in the background, the sky effortlessly blue and picturesque. gwilym is well-dressed and handsome, smiling down at you, his arm curved around your waist. you’re looking up at him, laughing, holding the straw hat against your head as a gust of wind attempts to whisk it away.

your chest expands with love, for your family, your son, even your husband.

you aren’t sure how things will turn out. for all you know, gwilym very well could have met someone else; he could be making plans to leave you as you slide under the covers. yet something tells you—maybe it’s hope, maybe it’s foolishness—that’s not the case.

you check your phone. empty, as per the usual. this time it doesn’t fill you with as much dread as normal. he’ll come around. one way or another, things will get sorted. you’re willing to fight for that.

#gwilym lee #gwilym lee x reader #gwilym lee imagine #bohemian rhapsody #borhap fic #j writes #fic collab

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themissinggenius · 3 years

Text

Part 2/2

Another conversation was coming, but it was avoided for the time being. Clarice showered in the guest bathroom; earlier, she had tried peering around the house—still mad but a bit embarrassed by the outburst. The door had been put back into place since she showered, and the water had been cleaned off of the floor. Hannibal was nowhere to be found. I really did it this time, she thought. Her body relaxed, and her face softened. She didn’t think it was appropriate to laugh, but the thought still surfaced, prompting a sad smile. I pushed around the violent centerpiece of the FBI’s Ten Most Wanted list. And he just cried. Shithouse mouse. The smirk dissipated as she ruminated further... She had hit him. Being a domestic abuser wasn’t just rude; it was boringly common.

She moved the thoughts about violence to the side and shifted her attention to the cause of the scuffle. I don’t know what he expected. Hannibal knows the depth of my old relationship with Jack, as much as he hated him. He told me to say goodbye to my father, so why not Jack?

Your daddy and Jackie Boy aren’t the same, she reminded herself. At this moment, she was both grateful and resentful that her internal voice of reason was that of her husband. At least it was helping her see his view. Okay, so the relationship isn’t necessarily comparable. But why would he think I wouldn’t come home? Did he really read my intentions so incorrectly?

Clarice laid awake in the guest bedroom for hours.

Hannibal Lecter relies on his intuition; it may just be his most famous attribute. On rare occasion, though, his cunning will fail him. On the day that Jack Crawford died, it most certainly did.

However, he doesn’t know that yet. Instead, he is reclined in repose at the seat of his harpsichord which he does not play. As he is off in one of the ill-visited quarters of the home, Clarice would be unable to hear the notes carrying from her position in the guest room; even so, he does not play. Hannibal gleaned a look of disgust and frustration from her earlier, and thus, he was certain his Starling would take flight by the morning for reasons known but difficult to accept. There is no reason for him to play.

Poised on the bench, he disappeared to his memory palace without struggle. The difficulty came when he walked down the halls, closing each door that had belonged to her. Hannibal contemplated as he walked: There is a certain symmetry to this—an appreciable one. Clarice’s hotheadedness had been a defining feature of hers, whereas he relied on coolness. He chastised himself for his own emotional outburst; it was unlike him to breakdown, and though he had allowed himself to become vulnerable to his wife, with her likely departure, he had to withdraw from all this fragility. He had to shut down. He had to be the ice to meet her violent fire.

Thus, he closed her doors, sealing the emotional ties within each.

Hannibal emerged at the sound of her voice. He had not heard her approaching in nor had he smelled her.

A few paces away from the harpsichord, Clarice stood. Hannibal had been contemplating whether to address her as Clarice (Perhaps too informal at this point...), Agent Starling (But even when she goes back, she won’t be an agent...), or Miss Starling (Ummmm, I don’t like this one very much...) when she interrupted.

“Hannibal,” she started.

“Ah.” He paused but spoke again before she could continue. “I see you’ve finally decided to join me. Had enough tossing and turning up there, or did you come down to use me as your personal punching bag again?”

“No, no. I just think-”

He cut her off again. “You know what I think, Ex-Special Agent Starling?” Oooh. That works, he thought. “Well, actually I wonder. I wonder if that was how Daddy took care o’ Mommy when she wouldn’t shut ‘er yap.” His imitation of her accent—which she had long abandoned—made her flinch. “If Ma didn’t have dinner on the table at five-o-clock, yes siree, she’d be in some kinda trouble. And boy, does Clarice still wanna be like her Daddy! No matter what,” he emphasized with a drawl, “she’s gonna stand by him. It sure do seem that way tuh me!” Hannibal smirked, and his face betrayed no warmth.

The room had felt colder to Clarice when she had walked in. She had expected him to be upset, but she hadn’t expected this. The woman paused and considered the implications: her musings were correct. He really did misread her, and now he was trying to drive her away. Well fuck that.

In their years of marriage, the couple had picked up on a few of each other’s traits. For one, Clarice was not going to allow a bit of intimidation break her. He came close to doing so in Baltimore, but he would not again. She steeled herself, adopting a bit of his icy demeanor.

“No, Hannibal. My father did not hit my mother. I think I would’ve told you by now, don’t you?”

He didn’t answer right away; rather, he just pursed his lips and smiled.

Then, he began: “As you know, I don’t try to predict you because it often proves fruitless.” He looked off before setting his gaze squarely on her. “However, considering these... outbursts of yours and the contempt plain on your face, I have bought you a ticket back to Arlington in time for dear Mr. Crawford’s funeral. For my safety, I will also be leaving, but not to Virginia. I know how much you must miss Jackie; please, give him my regards when you go. Maybe if you scream and pound on his grave hard enough, someone will hear and they’ll finally find you... Three years after you were reported as a missing person.” Lecter’s eyebrows shot up, and he shrugged. “Though I doubt you’ll be reinstated, as you haven’t kept your resume up to date. It will be no problem for you, though, Clarice.” He gave her a kind, patronizing look. “You’re a very smart girl. When you rediscover that the FBI has no use for your intelligence, try showing off your trophies from the firing range. Maybe even tell them about your skills in hand-to-hand combat... I could write you a glowing reference!”

Hannibal was perfectly still in his seat with his wife just beyond him. He waited patiently for her to break. He wanted no end to be left untied when she left. Your turn.

“I see you still try and lick tears after you’ve tired of tasting your own.” Clarice took a slow step toward him. She needed to crack his facade quickly. “Fortunately or unfortunately, I have no intention of moving back to the States. I find that I’m quite happy right here.”

Only she could have noticed the slight twitch of the doctor’s right eye upon this admission. And she did.

Starling inched closer. “Now, about this ‘contempt plain on my face’...” She mirrored his voice and flat expression; her imitation was even better than his had been. “Did ya happen to consider that it’s because you just tried to tear me apart—unsuccessfully, I might add? Let me tell you what I know, Doctor.” She hammed up the formality in her tone. “I know you’re not comfortable feeling worried about another person. I know that you felt vulnerable when I was gone, and I know you didn’t like that.”

She paused, remaining collected. She raised her voice a tad for this last bit. “Lastly, I know that you ASSUMED. And if there is one—just one!—good thing that goddamned Jack Crawford taught me over the years,” she laughed, “it’s that, when you assume, you make an ASS out of U and ME. Trust me, baby, you did just that. And despite what your intuition told you, I’m not going anywhere.”

She did it. The true stoic’s face had broken, and Hannibal the Cannibal sat, dumbfounded. He opened his mouth and then closed it. She continued.

“I’m sorry that you misread my motivations. I spent yesterday reflecting on how I had gotten to this point, and I had come home feeling glad. I was planning on going upstairs to find you, drawing a bath for the both of us, and then dancing later on in the evening. Your assumption got us a bit sidetracked, though.” Looking down at her watch, it was 2am. Holy crap. She focused back on him and noted that he was still unmoving but appeared less rigid than before. The room felt like it had finally warmed up.

Clarice took a last step towards her husband. Now above him, looking down, she said, “I am sincerely sorry for hitting you, Hannibal.”

Finally, he stirred. “Clarice, I have not once so much as laid a finger on you in anger...”

“I know. Ironic, right?”

“I don’t think so.”

His wife smirked at that, and he returned the favor. “No, I guess you wouldn’t. Anyway, I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. You know what else won’t happen again?” She held his chin and spoke softly. “You doubting us. I’m with you for the long haul. Where the hell did you even think I was going?”

“Ummmm. To be candid, I’m unsure of what I thought your plan was. I assumeddddd,” he looked up at her teasingly, “that you were leaving because of a change in heart.”

“My, Dr. Lecter, you didn’t have every one of my steps planned out before I could even think of them? What have I done to you?”

“I can now definitively say that you bring out the worst in me.”

Clarice laughed and sat down next to him. “Crying? And worrying?” She was feeling more relaxed, placing her hand on his leg as she started laughing harder. “Why am I not surprised that you consider that to be Hannibal Lecter at his worst?”

Her husband just smiled back at her. She saw his cheeks blush almost imperceptibly, which then prompted a further fit. It wasn’t long before they were both laughing.

“You had better... go back... into that memory palace of yours... and open up my doors ASAP,” Clarice ordered while catching her breath.

“And how did you—?”

“You were sitting on that bench for quite a while before I called out to ya. Try not to forget about me so soon, huh?”

“I wouldn’t even think of it.” Never again, he added silently. “But I must ask... Would I be incorrect in assuming you still want to dance?”

Clarice smiled widely. Hannibal shifted in his seat and began to play.

#fluff+angst=whatever the fuck this is #THE FLUFF IS UNREAL OMG #it went from 100 to 0 so quick #clannibal #Clarice #clarice starling #hannibal #hannibal lecter

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