#singing along the words to her even though he knows he has a terrible voice and hates to sing | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

Tumblr Inc. is funded by 13 investors.

#singing along the words to her even though he knows he has a terrible voice and hates to sing

multi-fandom-imagine · 1 year

Text

A/n: I’m doing it!

When you first told Simon that you were pregnant the man froze, he went silent and stepped into the other room. You couldn’t blame him, you two never discussed children and you knew of his past, of the abuse. You were sure that it would take a little for this to hit him. For him to get used to the knowledge about being a father.

It took him a few hours to finally talk to you, for him to apologize and hold you.

“I’m scared….I’m scared I wont be a good father. That I’ll some how be like my father.”

Heart clenching, you hated the thought of the man thinking that low of himself. That he could ever think that he’d be such a terrible father. Placing your hand on his cheeks you smiled. “Simon, you are nothing like your father. You will never be like that horrible bastard. You are a good man, a wonderful man that is a wonderful husband, a man that cares about his team and I know you’ll be a loving father.”

Closing his eyes, Simon slowly wrapped his arms around your waist tugging you in close, your words calming him down.

+•+

Simon seemed to become more protective of you once you became further along in your pregnancy. The man doting on you, taking care of wherever needs you have, going out to grab whatever you might crave.

He loved taking care of you, his fingers now messaging out any knots you might have in your back. “How’s that love?” Waiting for a response, Simon then tipped his head forward to see what was wrong though a chuckle escaped his lips seeing that you had fallen asleep. “Let’s get you to a proper bed.”

Lifting you up, he then carried you off to the bedroom. Gently laying you down he placed a kiss to your cheek then gave your belly a kiss. “Daddy loves you. I do hope you’ll be like your mother.”

Getting himself comfortable, he let his arm wrap protectively around your belly as he slowly fell asleep next to you.

+•+

“Simon”

While he may be on leave, Simon was never one to stop from working as he read out a few reports for Soap to take care of. “Yes love?”

“I want sex.”

Blinking, he placed the reports down. He pinched the bridge of his nose then ran his fingers through his hair. “Again?”

“Yes again! It’s not my fault I’m horny all the time.Bedroom! Now!”

Pushing away from his desk he nodded his head watching you walk though it was more of a waddle now away. “Yes love.”

+•+

It was a long birth, the man never leaving your side.His hand holding yours, know matter how much you screamed he did his best to stay strong, he did his best to reassure you how well you were doing. Though he finally felt like hr could breath again hearing his child cry.

A girl, a beautiful little girl, Simon has cried only a handful of times in his life and once his newborn was placed on his arms he couldn’t help but shed a few tears.

“My little girl, you’re finally here.”

+•+

Simon did his best to make sure you took it easy at home. He would change the diapers, feed her at night because he did not want to wake you. He felt like he was doing a good job at being a father.

Stepping near his daughters crib he slowly lifted her up, she was crying and not wanting to wake you he smiled for a moment cradling her to his chest. Sitting down in the rocking chair she let him grab a hold of his fingers, little sobs escaping her lips.

“Hush now bunny. Pop is gonna sing to you, now I may not have a beautiful voice like your mother but…we’ll my own mum used to sing me this song.”

Waking up to singing on the baby monitor was something you didn’t expect to happen, seeing that it was your husband was the one that was singing. You couldn’t help but melt watching him cradle her close.

Not wanting to interrupt the sweet moment you fell back asleep.

Simon Riley was nothing like his father, he was someone even better.

2K notes · View notes

cuffmeinblack · 1 year

Note

Hi~ is it okay if I request a Fluffy oneshot of Ominis gaunt x fem Hufflepuff Mc?

Like she’s generally a very soft spoken girl (tho she got sass for days) and maybe Ominis stumbles upon her while she’s singing “Secret Garden- Sleepsong” in the undercroft, because it’s a family lullaby and she’s feeling a little homesick.. (Post good ending, Sebs spending the weekend with Anne & his uncle)

He’s so entranced by her singing.. he ends up making notes on when she seems to go down there to sing, just so he can listen to her.. (also he’s a bit nervous about letting her know, that he knows she can sing. So he’s done all this in secret.)

And maybe sometime later a mean-girl group from the frog choir corners MC, talking shit about how she probably has a trashy voice or something.. Ominis ain’t having that!!

He just blurts out that ACTUALLY she has the voice of a GODDESS!! and they aren’t even worthy enough to listen to a Dogbog snor!

Maybe MC’s a little confident after his little stunt so she gets super flirty~

Seb’s gonna be so confused when he gets back to an unusually flirtatious MC constantly making moves on a VERY flustered Ominis.. 👀 but he’s happy for them at least.. and won a LOT of Galions, but that’s beside the point!

Basically all cute shit.. Ominis deserves SO much Love.. 🥺

Two little words

Ominis Gaunt x f!reader

Tags: fluff | Hufflepuff reader

1k words

A/: Hello, thank for your request 🖤 I enjoyed writing this from Ominis' point of view. Hope you enjoy.

I'll sing you to sleep and I'll sing you tomorrow

Bless you with love for the road that you go

Ominis knew he wasn't alone as soon he stepped into the Undercroft—he immediately jumped back and pressed himself against the cold stone wall upon hearing the noise. Quite what made him hide, he wasn't sure, only that the moment he had stumbled upon seemed personal and intimate.

May you sail far to the far fields of fortune

With diamonds and pearls at your head and your feet

The voice could only belong to one person, the only other one who knew about the Undercroft besides himself and Sebastian. She sang with a gentle lilt, the melody was sombre and sweet and tinged with sadness. Ominis knew he should either make his presence known or leave, the longer he left it the more awkward his discovery would become, but he found himself unable to move, partially from fear but a greater desire to hear her sing more.

And may you need never to banish misfortune

May you find kindness in all that you meet

The sweet song stopped suddenly and Ominis' gut twisted uncomfortably when he realised why—she was crying. Her breath hitched and she tried to stifle the sobs, breathing deeply and sniffing through her nose. Ominis felt intensely guilty for intruding—he didn't think she would appreciate the intrusion, even though he wanted to comfort her, she had clearly come here for solitude. Regretfully, he felt his way along the wall and back out of the door.

Ominis knew she often roamed the castle or fled into the forest or Hogsmeade, she was hard to keep track of, but he started to notice a pattern to her behaviour. She would receive an owl from her parents every Monday, and that evening she would disappear, walking through the central hall and sneaking off to the Undercroft. The second time he found her, he had intended to confront her and offer his support, but once again found himself distracted and enchanted by her sweet voice. He knew she wouldn't willingly sing in front of him, and he so wanted to listen.

She sang a different song every time he visited, though it was often a sad and slow tune. Ominis thought she must miss her home terribly and wondered about her life away from Hogwarts—a shy and intensely private person, much like Ominis, she didn't often mention her personal life, preferring to devote her conversations to her studies and friends' lives. Every time he heard her sing, standing in the shadows, his heart raced and on more than one occasion he felt wet hot tears sliding down his face.

All good things must come to an end, and for Ominis that was on a Tuesday afternoon a month after he had first heard her sing. He walked across the courtyard on his way to Herbology, his wand held aloft and listening to the chatter surrounding him. His ears heard her voice, now so familiar and comforting, though it was full of hurt and anger.

"There's no need to be so horrible."

"We're just giving you some criticism, if you can't take it then you shouldn't be singing at all," a second voice rang, ugly and rough in comparison.

Ominis followed the conversation.

"Telling me I sound like a banshee isn't criticism, it's needlessly mean. I don't know what your problem is," she said, her voice breaking at the end of the sentence.

More voices, cruelly laughing. The second voice chimed in again.

"Just give up, you'll never make the choir with your voice."

Ominis leaned against the pillar of an archway, his hands shaking in anger.

"I happen to think she has the voice of an angel, and we can all agree I have much better taste than you," he drawled.

He heard a shuffle as the group found the source of the insult.

"Nobody asked you, Gaunt," the ugly voice said.

"I spend my life listening, and let me tell you that she would be the best thing to happen to your pathetic little choir."

The silence that greeted his retort let him knew he had won the exchange. Several huffs were expelled and he heard the sound of footsteps retreating. Her sweet voice filled his ears, asking a question he didn't want to answer.

"Thank you, Ominis. When have you ever heard me sing?"

Ominis blushed, trying to find words that wouldn't anger or embarrass her.

"I have to confess, I found myself listening as you sang in the Undercroft. I apologise for not showing myself, I should have."

"I thought you must have. Next time…tell me when you're there?" she replied.

"Next time?"

"If you want. I'll see you later, Ominis."

The response surprised him, and he spent the next few hours utterly distracted from his lessons, turning the conversation and his memories of the Undercroft over in his mind. Was it an invitation? Should he turn up next week? He wanted to more than anything, but he worried he had somehow misinterpreted her interest.

That doubt was put to rest by the time he reached the great hall that evening. He followed Sebastian to their usual seat, where she sat waiting. Some of the Slytherins despised that a Hufflepuff often sat at their house table for meals, but they didn't comment anymore lest they find themselves on the receiving end of Ominis' ruthless sharp-witted insults, or the end of Sebastian's wand.

"Hello, you two. Good afternoon?"

"Fantastic, blew myself up in Potions," Sebastian said sarcastically, "You?"

"Not bad, it got better after I saw you, Ominis."

Ominis blushed, the heat rising in his cheeks, smiling bashfully as Sebastian started choking next to him.

"I'm glad. I'm sorry they were so awful," Ominis replied, ignoring the coughing coming from his friend.

"My hero," she said in a breathy voice.

Yes, Ominis often found himself thinking about her singing but those two little words might have been the the most beautiful he had ever heard.

#ominis gaunt drabble #ominis gaunt fanfiction #ominis gaunt imagine #ominis gaunt x reader #ominis gaunt #anon ask

532 notes · View notes

vidalinav · 4 months

Text

Part 2 of the Nesta gets sick, acofas re-write thing

This is not my best work honestly. It's more of my quick writing. But you know what? It is what it is. Not everything can be a masterpiece and I should post things even when I don't think it's perfect. Keeps me humble and keeps me brave. This was a pep talk for me.

Part 1

The icy wind scars his face, but it's a small form of torture. Her name sits on his tongue, but he has yet to see if the mountains will hear him or if the people of Velaris will point the way.

Which tavern? Which music hall? Which book store? Which person's bedroom will he find her in?

How drunk will she be?

Cassian wishes he was drunk right now, but...

Has he ever been sober since he's seen her face?

Cassian sees her and the words spill out his mouth. Nothing honest--no. If he were telling the truth, he'd have sunk to his knees. Human, fae, or... death.

She breathed life back into him.

Now Nesta's being haunted by her thoughts, drinking them away, so they may be silenced, so the ice on his face--the piercing slice of winter, is a small price to pay. A small sacrifice. A small revenge for he deserves more than this.

"Nesta!" he yells, but Cassian's sure the wind swallows his call, howling like a wolf to the moon.

Cassian doesn't like the thought of her traveling in this. The city is bright, but he's unsurprised that many of the businesses are closed. It is a holiday after all. Thankfully, the taverns are alight with patrons and noise. He's almost glad it's open if only to offer Nesta reprieve.

Because she isn't at home when he knocks on her door. He can't sense her at all. Cauldron knows her apartment must not have good heating, or at least the door felt as cold as ice. Quiet and mocking. For that alone, Cassian's sure she'd be somewhere here.

So which tavern will it be?

He clenches his fist, but he tells himself it's to warm them and not because the thought of her uncared for goads on his nerves. Not because the thought of her cared for in another's bed makes him want to gut someone brutally.

"We haven't seen her, my lord," the barkeeper says.

"Cassian," he quickly corrects, though he knows none of the workers will do as he asks, formality running heavy throughout town.

"We haven't seen her in a couple of days actually," a younger fae, who offers to pour him a drink, notes. "She usually sits right over there, nearest to the musicians. They've been traveling, you see, so perhaps she's tried another tavern."

"We hope she comes back, my lord. Our high lady's sister is always welcome."

Cassian is sure she is, since he's seen the bills collected on her behalf. "Do you know where she might be?"

The barkeeper shrugs, "maybe Blue Mill? Have you tried the Wolf's den?"

"She's not there," he says, though Cassian offers his thanks and moves on to another tavern down the way, much tamer than the last.

Nesta's not at that one either. The snow sprinkles down and it packs the ground in deep white. He can feel it in his boots.

Where can Nesta be?

Perhaps, he should have told Azriel to send his shadows, but he does what he knows, so he shoots to the sky, not bothering to think about how much his wings will ache from this weather.

He doesn't know how long he searches, before something starts eating at his gut. Something pokes and prods at his chest. Something is not right.

Something is terribly wrong, and it is not this storm or the sting against his wings. It's not the fact that the city sings even from above, as if nothing but him can sense this.

Nesta is nowhere in sight.

She's not at the bridge, the taverns, the trail to her house, the walk to the bookstores, along the Sidra. There is nothing that says that Nesta lives here, all he sees is white.

White is the color of death, he finds, and something morbid calls him forth.

Nesta. Nesta. Nesta.

He thinks the wind calls her name, an echo of his voice. A chant. Cassian thinks of death gods. Of monsters. Of villainous people.

What is happening to her?

Why can't he find her?

Cassian circles the mountain, pulling at his hair.

There.

A scarf circles around a lamp post and it looks like the one Elain gifts to Nesta for her birthday last spring. Light blue and waving hello, come find me, I need you. When he grasps it, Cassian can catch the slightest whiff of her scent.

"Nesta," he calls, peering at the space as if she'll come out of hiding. He sees piles of snow, no footprints in sight. All he can smell is wind and winter and cold. "Nesta!"

He finds a shroud near the stairs, her head lying against the stone. Touches of brass and pale skin. Snow has already begun to pile on her body. A blanket of white. A funeral.

"Nesta," he gasps. "Nesta. Nesta!"

She is so perfectly silent, it fills him with dread.

"Talk to me, Nesta," he demands as he grasps her shoulders, and then her hands, blowing into them as if that my warm her from the inside out.

Her cheeks are a budding pink and her lips are tinged in blue. Cassian thinks of death, corpses, and pale flesh. He can't help it. Nesta lays so still, he wants to throw up.

Her heart beat is faint, but Cassian thinks it might just be the wind drowning out any noise. At least he keeps repeating that to himself, because pulling out his own won't help hers beat louder or stronger.

"I'm going to take you to the house," he says, though she doesn't make a sound. Nesta's head lulls into his neck as he holds her to his chest. Cassian's surprised to find a touch of warmth at her skin and for that he sends a thousand thanks to the Mother.

"I've got you Nesta," he says, kissing at the top of her head without thinking. "I've got you."

I'm never leaving you alone, again.

You see I have a very good memory, so I had this book series memorized like the back of my mind. But then I went into a PhD program, and brain dumped it all. SO I cannot remember some details or at least I can't remember which things happened in what book... just like SJM ( LOL ). So if this is not bookly accurate, just ignore it. Nothing about this is bookly accurate anyway.

Also this is hella dramatic. I should have really just started off with... he found her with no explanation... which is what I usually do. But I tried to give explanation. And... it's dramatic. But whateva.

You'll see her actually sick in the next part.

#nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #nessian sick fic #vidalinav

103 notes · View notes

kiwisbell · 6 months

Text

Las Mañanas || Chapter 7 [javier peña]

She’s a waitress in a little café. He’s a DEA agent who likes the coffee. Just the coffee. That’s all. Or, slices of life (and sometimes pie) shared between Javi and his wife, including his tireless journey to making her his wife.

series masterlist | my masterlist

pairing: javier peña x f!reader

rating: 18+ (mdni)

tags/warnings: javi getting the fucking love he deserves, coffee shop AU if you squint really hard, soft and sweet!javi, protective!javi, grumpy!javi, simp!javi tbh, alcohol, smoking, so much fluff, nobody fucks with javi's girl, overuse of spanish pet names, poorly-translated spanish, "she" pronoun used throughout, oral sex (m and f receiving), chucho being peak dad, lorraine is pretty chill, texas!javi comes with his own warning, The Flannel Shirt, mentions of swinging, jealous!javi, like very jealous!javi, extremely possessive sex, bathroom sex, sex during a wedding, baby fever, lube, anal sex, mirror sex, dirty talk, slight degradation (slut), fingering, squirting, "papi" used

word count: ~ 8.8k

a/n: this chapter is always and forever dedicated to @northernbluess and @tieronecrush for being especially passionate about the *activities* in this chapter. love you besties xoxo

chapter seven: granted wishes from your maker

They hold a second wedding party the day after they touch down in Texas, though it's too small to be called a party at all.

Javier’s father hosts, too insistent on finally meeting his daughter-in-law to allow anything else. Her mother flies down from New York on Javier’s money and holds her daughter with such fervour, such wet-eyed joy, that it wrenches his chest open and tugs out his beating heart. It's just the four of them. It's small, and it's perfect.

Chucho loves the new addition to his family, predictably. He's been talking to her once a week for a few years now, but there's something about seeing her in-person. Javier’s father is excitable as a sheepdog, waiting on her and her mother hand-and-foot even though they protest every second of it. At one point, though, Javier catches his dad and his wife together in the kitchen, washing dishes together over Gloria Estefan.

She sings happily along with Chucho, letting him spin her around with laughter in her lilting voice as he sings right back to her. Javier watches from the living room while her mother comes up behind him. “When she first told me she found someone new,” she says, “I was so worried you'd be like Nicolás. She never told me the terrible things I know now, but she didn't need to. It was a mother’s intuition.

“You're a good man, Javier,” she tells him. The resolve in her voice reminds him of her daughter. “I know what you did in Colombia. I’ve never liked her being in a place like that. It's done nothing but hurt her. But I’m grateful for her to finally have someone who loves her the way—” She cuts herself off. There are tears that ache to fall from her eyes.

He knows what she wants to say. The way I loved her father.

Javier pulls her into a hug even he isn't fully prepared for. “Don't tell her I got sappy,” she sniffles into his chest. “Not a good look for me.”

“Our secret,” agrees Javier. “She's my whole life.”

“She’s mine, too.” Her mother smiles up at him, her daughter’s smile. “I will kill you if you hurt her, Javier.”

More people have threatened his life over her than the war on drugs. He gets it; he would do, and has done, the same.

Javier squeezes her shoulders, and she squeezes his hand. They part ways—her going to inspect Chucho’s bookshelves in the living room, him going back to admiring his dancing wife—with the mutual understanding that they both care so much about the woman in the kitchen that they would give their lives for her.

Javier slips into the kitchen, unnoticed, watching with his hands in his pockets as he leans against the wall. It's the most heart-wrenching sight he's ever seen. Not for the first time, he wishes desperately that his mom were still here to see the way he's carved out such a good life with this woman in front of him.

She spots him first, halfway through another spin, and beams. “Come dance with me, Javi.”

“Take her, mijo,” says Chucho. “My hips aren't like they used to be.”

“You're doing just fine, Chucho,” she says fondly, kissing him on the cheek. “I just want your son to make himself useful and help me with dishes.”

Javier is already behind her, bringing his hands around her waist and resting his chin on her shoulder. He nips at her throat. “I can be real useful. I’ve got it from here, Pop.”

Chucho ruffles Javier’s hair the way he's always done. “Conseguiré los álbumes de fotos,” he says, a scheming grin beneath his white moustache as he leaves for the living room.

Javier grimaces, but she grins eagerly, turning in his arms to slide her arms around his neck. She begins a slow half-dance, half-sway. “I can't wait to see you as a little baby. Those little cheeks…”

“Careful, honey,” he says into her ear. “Might give you a kid if you keep saying things like that.”

She's still grinning like a cat. “We may need more practice,” she whispers right back. “Don't think you quite got it last time.”

“No?” He nips at her lobe. “Doubting my skills?”

“No,” she giggles, wiggling her hips in his grasp. “Just love when you come inside me.”

His vision goes white for a moment. “Christ. Don't say that.”

“Why not?” Her eyes are like a doe’s.

“I’m hard as a fuckin’ rock, smartass,” he grits out, keeping their hips pressed together. “You know exactly what you're doing.”

“I’m washing dishes,” she says with a shrug, turning back around and bumping her ass, accidentally, against his erection. She picks up a plate and begins to scrub. “You just can't keep it in your pants in your own father’s home.”

“Very funny, honey.”

She reaches into her pocket when the plate is snug on the drying rack and produces a half-full pack of Nicorette. She plucks out a piece of gum and says, “Open. You’re grinding your jaw.”

He huffs, but relents, opening his mouth. “Wish you’d just kiss it into me,” he grumbles. “Feel like a baby bird.”

“That’s disgusting, Javier, and you’d feel even more like a baby bird if I spat a piece of gum into your mouth.” She takes his jaw between her thumb and fingers. “You’re doing so good.”

Javier talks a big game, but he is hopeless to resist the potential of getting to fuck his wife. He’s especially responsive to her praises. So, he grabs a dish and helps her clean.

Looking through photo albums of Javier’s childhood may be her new favourite hobby.

“Couldn’t let him out of my sight for two seconds, or he’d be drawing on the walls.” Chucho indicates the picture of a diaper-clad, pacifier-sucking baby Javier looking innocently into the camera. Behind him is a wall covered in black scribbles, which incidentally match those on Javier’s hands and nose.

His wife is laughing so hard that tears well up in her eyes. “Oh, but look at those cheeks,” she manages through her fit of giggles. “Javi, you were so sweet.”

Javier tugs her legs over his lap on the sofa. “I’m always sweet,” he grumbles.

She flips the page, and Javier catches a glimpse of a time he would rather forget. “No,” he says, reaching for the album. “Absolutely not.”

His wife gasps, her eyes glassy with new tears, lifting the book out of reach. Javier is ready to tackle her into the cushions. “Oh. My. God. You were in a Christmas play?”

Chucho and her mother laugh together. “Best Christmas tree Laredo’s ever seen.”

Javier looks like he wants to sink beneath the cushions. She leans into him and kisses him on the cheek. “Amor,” she says, “you are the cutest baby I’ve ever seen.”

He pouts, just so she will kiss him again. And she does, properly, on the mouth. “Please tell me,” she begs Chucho, “he had to sing.”

“Like a pequeña ave,” replies his father.

Javier groans.

She flips to another page and coos at the image of a five-year-old Javier making a snowman. “This wasn't in Texas,” she says in disbelief.

“Dios, no,” says Chucho. “The three of us took a trip up to New York. He was always a flight risk. Looked away for two seconds and he was running out the door. Thought a vacation would do him good.”

“My adventurer,” she muses, beaming at her husband. He flushes under her attention and brushes his knuckle under her chin.

They look through the albums until it's nearly midnight. She falls asleep on her mother’s shoulder on the couch and Javier doesn't have the heart to wake her. The next day, she and her mother say good-bye, and he rubs her feet in the bathtub over a shared glass of wine. It's quiet living here, and the sun rises on the ranch and the glittering river below, and the rooster croons. It's nothing like Colombia. It's why he can hold her so tightly and fall asleep, dreamless, breathing in her soft scent, without a gun in the bedside drawer.

“We got a problem.”

Javier emerges from the shower into his childhood bedroom, ruffling his dripping hair with the towel, stark naked. His wife eyes him up and down without shame, but fairly, he’s doing the exact same to her. She’s sitting cross-legged in front of the floor-length mirror, brushing her hair in only a flimsy lace bra and panties.

“What?” She frowns.

“Pop didn’t exactly splurge on a new bed for when I came home to visit,” he explains. “And this one squeaks like a motherfucker.”

Her lower lip juts out. “But you look so good,” she says, abandoning her hairbrush and getting onto her knees with her hands in her lap. “So handsome.”

It might be the most erotic sight he's ever seen. He dries his hair as best he can and meets her where she kneels, cupping her chin. She tries to bring her hand up to his hardening cock. “Ah, ah, cálmate. Tell me what you want.”

“Wanna lick you all over,” she says breathlessly, her tongue wetting her bottom lip. He’s hard and aching by now, watching her so eager and ready for him. “Want…”

“I’m listening, baby.”

Her eyes are on him, filled with so much love and trust he feels like he's brimming with it.

“I want you to fuck my ass, Javi.”

His hand, once twirling his digits around locks of her soft hair, now tightens unwittingly until he’s jerking her head backward, forcing her to keep her eyes on him. “Jesus,” he groans. “You fucking serious?”

“Mhm,” she says, nodding frantically. “Wanted it for so long. I’ve been—getting ready. I want it to be good for you.”

He wants to tell her that it’ll be good for him no matter what, that she’s his wife and she’s perfect, but her wish has pushed a golden key inside him and unlocked something wild. “You want me to fuck you in the ass, right here on the floor? Huh? That what you want, baby? In front of the mirror?”

She squeaks out a small noise of affirmation, her pupils swallowing her irises. It isn’t good enough for the creature inside him. His nostrils flare down at her. “You want it?”

“Yes, baby,” she sighs, “please.”

He smirks. “Sit back and spread your legs. Let me see how badly you want it.”

She’s eager to comply. She leans back against the wall, next to the mirror, keeping her eyes on Javier as she eases her legs open. Two fingers slip down her body, achingly slow, from her throat down her sternum to the waistband of her panties. She teases him as much as herself, tracing the delicate lace with the pads of her fingers until she finally pulls them aside and lets him see the glistening core of her. Javier steps up to her feet and sinks to his knees, grabbing hold of her ankle and bracketing it around his hip. “Eso es mio,” he rasps, his hand lowering to warm her belly. His thumb briefly brushes her clit.

“Todo tuyo,” she says softly.

He shuffles closer to her until her thighs wrap around his hips. Her wetness glimmers in the darkness and her eyes are lustful pits he wants to fall inside. For a moment, they watch one another breathe, their chests heaving, synchronised, hearts pattering. Anticipation crests like waves over rock. Javier presses two fingers to her cunt, sliding up the slick wet slit. Her breath shudders. “Big talker,” he hums, leaning in and slanting his mouth over hers at the same time he pushes two fingers into her. She gasps, and he pushes his tongue against hers at the opportunity, sliding his free hand around her back and unclasping her bra. It slips off her shoulders and frees her tits, nipples hard and breasts pushing out along with her needy whimpers.

“Mmm, Javi,” she pleads, turning to putty at the way he fingers her, his other hand pulling at her nipples, squeezing her tits, feeling every inch of soft, smooth skin he finds. He’s obsessed with tasting her, licking along her jaw until he finds her throat, her pulse point, and sucks on her soft skin. “Oh, my—oh, please, please… ‘m so wet, Javi…”

“Sé, mi amor,” he grunts. Her hips are writhing of their own accord, seeking out his cock which taps relentlessly at his stomach, craving the hot tightness of her body. “So fucking needy. Real desperate por tu esposo, huh?” She yelps when he smacks the side of her thigh and immediately brings the hand over her mouth. “Be quiet about it, baby. Gotta be quiet.”

He curls his fingers inside her and grins when her eyes roll back in her head. Her body tightens under him, his thumb at her clit making her tremble and lose all thought of biting his hand like a brat. She falls apart on his fingers, covering them with her slick arousal, biting her tongue with the effort not to cry out. She grabs onto his shoulders when he begins to pull away, but he just jerks her panties down her thighs and flings them aside. “Look at you,” he says, his eyes reverent in their path from her cunt to her sweaty, heaving chest to her lidded eyes. “Turn around. Hands and knees.”

Her core coils in giddy anticipation as she kneels facing the mirror. Javier shuffles around behind her and produces two pillows: one for her knees and another for his. They aren't teenagers anymore. “Need to get you ready for me,” he says, ever her sweet husband, dipping his fingers back into her wetness. She pushes her ass back into him, desperate to feel him move inside her, but he kneads the flesh there and says gruffly, “Be good and stay still. I’ll give you what you need, amor. Fuckin’ paint you with me.”

She watches him in the mirror as he admires her body from behind, but nothing prepares her for the first touch at her other hole. He's traced and teased it while fucking her from behind, but never more than that. They’ve both wanted it—she has craved the feeling of him claiming the only place left on her body he hasn't christened, and he's ached to stake his territory there, filling her tight hole with his cum like he's done with the rest of her. She gasps when she feels his slick finger prod that delicate flesh. The touch alone makes her keen against him, biting down on her lip at the shockwave of surprising pleasure it gives her.

“Anyone ever fuck you here?”

The question comes out rough, his eyes not meeting hers. They're fixed on her ass, where his finger begins to disappear inside her.

“No.” It comes out in an exhale. “Never let them. Never let him.”

That undoes him. It feels like a privilege to be the one who gets to fuck her where no one has. Something surges up inside his chest and lodges in his throat. His voice sounds like it's been dragged over coals. “You’re gonna let your husband take you,” he says, pushing his finger inside until he’s knuckle-deep, smoothing his free hand over her ass, up her arched spine, until he places pressure at her shoulder blades. She follows his whims without hesitation, her upper back dipping until her cheek brushes the floor. “Fucking perfect. Mi esposa. My perfect girl. I’m gonna fill you full, baby. Gonna stretch you out.”

He's babbling, overcome with the lust curling in his gut, her soft, gurgling moans only fuelling his fire. When he adds another finger, she cries out with the stretch, her cheek resting on the floor and her fingers curling into nothing. “Oh,” she groans, trying to stay quiet, “‘s good, Javi. S’good.”

He chuckles. She's drunk off his touch already, thighs trembling and lips parting in a series of desperate whispering gasps. “One more,” he says. “Tranquila. Let me in, amor.”

She shudders as her spine decompresses, her back arching deeper, her arms giving out entirely. She's butter in his hands when he slips a third finger inside her, easing her open. She hides her face in her forearm to keep herself quiet. “That's it,” he urges, chest sore with pride for the way she takes him without complaint. “Ready for me, baby?”

She nods frantically into her arm. “Papi,” she whimpers. “Dámelo. Por favor.”

Javier’s cock spurts precum on her round ass, as intrigued by the nickname as he is. He wraps her hair around his hand like a tourniquet and yanks her head upward. “If I’m going to fuck you in the ass,” he says, “I want you to watch. ¿Claro?”

In the mirror, their eyes meet, and hers—heavy and hazy with lust—glimmer at him. She nods. “There’s—there's lube,” she pants. “In your bag. Bought it yesterday.”

“Bad girl,” he tuts. He scrambles backward and rifles through his bag until he's squirting some of the clear stuff onto his palm and slicking up his cock with it. Javier slides his head up through her drenched slit, making her squeal with the coolness, and nudges the head at the entrance to her puckered hole. She keens against him. “Nnghh” is vaguely the sound he hears from her throat.

“Breathe,” he whispers, easing himself slowly into the threshold. He hisses, overcome with the sudden hot tightness, grip ironlike on her hip to keep himself from jerking forward and hurting her.

Bringing herself back up to her hands, she lets him open her up until he's balls-deep in her, gritting his teeth and stilling so she can relax around him. She pants, watching him in the glass. Javier’s eyes drop to the place where their bodies meet, where she swallows and chokes his cock, her hole pulsing around him. “Fucking Christ. Fucking tight , fuckin’—Jesus, baby. Let me—” He grabs her hips to stop her from squirming, to keep himself from coming too soon.

“Feels… oh, shit,” she whispers. “You're so big, Javier. So deep.”

The praises force his hips forward, driving deliciously deep inside her. She moans low in her chest and claps her hand over her mouth. “Shhh. Take it, just a bit more. You can take me, baby, can't you?” Javier soothes her with his hands, caressing the softness of her hips and her ass and her back.

“Yes,” she says, reaching back and squeezing his wrist. “I can take it. Fuck me. Please.”

“Good. Good girl.” He feeds her his cock again, grinding his hips up against her ass. Her eyes slip toward the back of her skull. “Eyes. On. Me.” He punctuates every word with a thrust, hitting deep and hard, making her knees buckle and her tits swing.

She can feel him in her guts, her throat, like this. He reaches deep with every thrust and knocks out all the strength in her limbs. He fucks her with a steady rhythm and never lets his grip on her falter. He's caring and gentle where it counts, but getting fucked like this is a dream. It’s rough and so, so good. Her breaths shove out of her with every punch of his cock inside her ass, and when he reaches between their bodies to rub her clit, she gasps out, “Cover my mouth, cover my mouth!”

He obeys happily, covering her body with his and humping her like a dog as he slips his hand over her mouth and holds onto her jaw. His pace increases until he's thoroughly wrecking her. She's so close that stars are bursting in her eyes, but he does not relent. All she can manage are muffled gasps behind his hand as her thighs begin to shake and her elbows give out. Javier catches her before she can fall to the ground, rocking back onto his haunches with her back flush with his chest. “See that?” he pants into her ear. “See how good I fuck you?”

She watches him rub her clit in the mirror until she explodes with the force of her orgasm, her entire body electrified, static, dust. The glint of their wedding rings catch in the moonlight. She shudders and sobs and soaks his hand with her tears as her cunt soaks his cock, his thighs. He fucks her through it and grunts like a rapid animal in her ear when he follows suit, burying himself deep and emptying every spurt of hot cum into her ass. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he rasps, biting down on her jaw as he tries to calm the shockwaves that thrum at his spine.

He eases them both to the ground, lying on his back while he settles her beside him, half-on top of him with her face nestled in his throat. She bites him there, gently. “How do you feel?” she whispers.

“Like I fucking died and went to heaven, baby.” He squeezes her side. “You okay? Did I hurt you?”

“Just enough,” she teases, brushing aside his still-damp hair. “You were perfect, Javi. That was perfect. My perfect esposo.”

He’s never understood how a woman like her can love him, but he's learned long ago never to complain or question. He can only drag her closer and kiss her hard on the mouth. “Amor de mi vida.”

He pushes the words into her tongue and makes her swallow them. He wants her to know it every hour of every day. She grins uncontrollably until their teeth clack together. “We need another shower.”

He grabs a handful of her ass. “Mala,” he grumbles, “getting your husband to fuck you in the ass in his childhood bedroom.”

“I couldn't help it,” she hums. “He looked so delicious. Had to have him.”

Javier kisses her nose. “He's a lucky fucker.”

“Yeah, he is.” She stretches out with a delighted sigh, her tempting body spread like a lounging cat. Javier exhales a little too hard through his nose.

“I need to clean you up,” he says.

“Carry me,” she offers, closing her eyes and turning onto her stomach. Slowly, she stretches backward until she's in child’s pose, her ass on display for him—alongside the white droplets of cum leaking from her abused hole.

“Fucking…” He sits up and, with a thumb, swipes the mess from where it's fallen to her pussy and slips it back inside. She gasps. “Keep that in there, and I’ll carry you wherever the fuck you want.”

She giggles. “You have yourself a deal, Mr. Peña.”

He huffs. “Mi linda camarera. Never knew you'd be such a little slut for me, Mrs. Peña.”

“You and only you, vaquero,” she says, cupping his cheek with that wicked smile on her face.

He turns his head to the side and kisses her palm. “Said I would carry you, baby. C’mere.”

She clicks her tongue, rising to her feet. “Javi. Your back isn't what it used to be.” She helps him to his feet, the both of them drenched in sweat and each other's scents and the haze of sex. “Want me to carry you?”

Fucking fox.

“Stop teasing me, bonita.”

She looks back at him and rolls his eyes, reaching backward for his hand. “I’m just walking, hotshot.”

“That's the problem.” Javier catches up to her so he doesn't have to keep ogling her ass underneath that pretty dress. It’s a sundress, accounting for the Texas heat, deep red to match the flannel he wears, and it fits her nice and snugly in the way that shows off her curves. He’s grumpy before they’ve even stepped foot inside the venue, but it’s mostly because he can’t feel her up too much at a wedding. “I need a fuckin’ cigarette,” he says into her ear.

She brushes her thumb over his chin. “Keep on chewing, my love. We’ll get through it.”

We. He slides his hand down her back and pinches her ass, making her gasp and glance around for witnesses. “Let ‘em see. Nobody’s got it as good as me.”

“I have to meet your ex today,” she says with a huff. “I’ve got it less good.”

“You’ve got something in common.” She lifts a brow at him, and he grins. “Terrible judge of character.”

She slaps him on the chest, but Chucho finally catches up to them on the steps in front of the door. “He’s got a point, mijita.”

“So,” she says, “Danny works in construction, Lisa’s a real estate agent, they’ve got two kids—Annie and Mary—and the maid of honour and best man are Victoria and Luis.”

“You got it, baby. Avoid the father of the bride, though. Tito. He’ll be drunk off his mind, and I don’t want him feeling you up or trying to recruit you to sell dick pills.”

“I can sell dick pills,” she says proudly. “I can sell anything.”

Javier kisses her knuckles. “I know you can.”

She beams. “I’ll be hanging around the kids, anyway. I miss kids. I miss Livi.”

If Javier knows anything about his wife, it’s that she gets baby fever. While Steve and Connie were still in Colombia, she was obsessed with their baby Olivia, gave her anything and everything she asked for and always held her. Rocked her to sleep and fussed over her like a true mom. It’s why he knows he’s got to give her a kid.

She stopped using birth control about a month after they arrived in Texas. They’ve discussed it at length and they know the consequences, but neither of them have suggested he stop finishing inside her. The prospect of knocking her up excites him too much; he wants that life with her, wants to give her a baby and be a parent. He never thought he was ready for a thing like that, not even when he briefly thought it would become real with Lorraine, until he met her. Now, he’s insatiable. He’s going to give his wife a child someday, he’s going to watch her grow round and glow, and she’s going to crave all sorts of weird shit. He’ll give her all of it.

They are met with multiple sets of eyes as they step inside and weave through the crowd, hand-in-hand. It’s been years since he’s stepped foot back in Laredo, and the last time he saw so many of these people together in one room, he’d abandoned his fiancée at the altar and he hadn’t dipped so much as a toe in the war on drugs in Colombia. And now, he was returning after seven years, discharged for conspiracy and married to a new woman. He understands their curiosity, but he isn’t particularly fond of the way they eye up his wife. Still, most people try to be discreet about it. They look, certainly, but they turn their heads and re-engage in conversation as the Peñas find their seats at a round table. Chucho is up again before he can fully sit down, excusing himself to speak with a neighbouring ranch hand.

Javier tugs on the legs of her chair to slide her closer. “You look beautiful,” he tells her, bringing her in for a kiss.

She nibbles his lip quickly, like it’s a secret she gives him, before she pulls away, grinning. “So do you. Let’s take you shopping for more plaid shirts sometime, hmm?”

Javier doesn't suspect there's a single article in his wardrobe she doesn't like, but he takes the compliment with another kiss. “Heads up,” she mumbles into his mouth.

“Javier!” says a male voice. “I’m glad you came.”

Javier looks up at the man and frowns. It’s the energetic gleam in those blue eyes he recognises first. “Danny?”

The man is in his early twenties, dark-haired and wild with excitement, grinning broadly and twisting his hands about. “Getting married and everything.”

Javier shakes his head. “Jesus, I’m old.” He claps the man on the shoulder. “Congratulations, Danny. You’re a good kid.”

Danny grins and shakes hands with Javier’s wife. “It’s really good to meet you, Mrs. Peña. Your husband used to babysit me, you know.”

“I… certainly didn’t,” she says, a laugh escaping her mouth. She says her congratulations and lifts her brows at Javier once Danny makes his way over to Chucho on the other side of the ballroom. “You were a babysitter?”

“First job I ever had,” says Javier. “Taking care of that bundle of fuckin’ energy.”

She licks her lips. “I want you inside me so badly right now. Oh! There’s Lorraine. I should go bite the bullet.”

She bolts upright and crosses the room while Javier is left sitting, stunned, and suppressing an imminent erection. It’s going to be a long night.

“Lorraine?”

The blonde woman turns around, a twelve-year-old attached to her leg, and smiles. “You must be Mrs. Peña.”

She introduces herself properly and shakes Lorraine’s hand. “It’s so nice to meet you. And what's your name, beautiful?” she asks the young girl clinging to her mother.

“Samantha,” says Lorraine, in that sweet southern sting, “come say hi. She's shy. Lots of people.”

“Oh, so am I.” She kneels down and waves at the little brown-haired, wide-eyed girl. “You know what my pápa used to say to me? Even if there are a hundred people around you, it's a hundred people too busy worrying about themselves to worry about bothering you.” She pulls a lollipop from her pocket, one she swiped from the table, and offers it to the girl. “But here I go, bothering you. Will this make it up?”

Samantha giggles and accepts the sweet. “Thank you, miss.”

Lorraine strokes Samantha’s hair. “Sammy, sweetie, go find your dad.”

The girl scampers off, and Lorraine watches her go fondly.

“She's beautiful.”

“She is,” says Lorraine. “You know, pretty much the last thing I was expecting was for Javier to come back married. Thought he would drown down there. I’m glad he didn't.”

She's somewhat unsure how to reply to that. “I… He's strong. He's a good man. It wasn't me that got him through it, but I’m glad, too. He's been through a lot.”

Lorraine snorts good-naturedly. “It was you, honey. You see the way that man looks at you? Shit, he's doin’ it right now.”

She glances across the room and finds her husband, mid-sip from a bottle of beer, watching her with an appreciative glimmer in those rich dark eyes. She warms; not a day has gone by he still doesn’t make her nervous and giddy. Her fingers find the skirt of her sundress and playfully swirl it around her thighs for him. He grins widely and lifts his brows at the flash of her thighs.

“Never saw him so happy,” says Lorraine. “Ain’t it sickening?”

She smiles at the woman. “I think I’m pretty sick, too.”

“He got lucky with you. Never was lucky with me.” Lorraine shakes her head with a self-deprecating laugh. “We were kids. Real stupid. I made a mistake. You seem a lot smarter than that.”

“Sometimes,” she says, “we screw up. I married a guy who nearly got me killed. It’s where we are once all that shit’s over that matters. I like where I am now. And you… Lorraine, you’ve got a beautiful family.”

The woman watches her husband lift their daughter into his arms. “You ever think about having little ones?”

“Did you?” she asks. “With Javi, I mean?”

Lorraine looks at her wryly. “I don't think we were ever adults when we were together. Symptoms of a small town. But he's a good guy, always wanted to see the world while I wanted to stay in my own—we both fucked each other up, if I’m bein’ honest.”

“For what it's worth,” she says, “I want to do right by him.”

“Oh, honey, you already have. More than I ever hoped to.” Lorraine snorts, lifting a glass of champagne from the table nearby. “To doing better the second time around.”

She swipes a glass herself and toasts. “To family.”

When she returns to her husband, she slides the champagne in front of him. “What's the occasion, bonita?” he asks, leaning in close and nudging her cheek with his nose before kissing her there.

“It’s a wedding, honey,” she says. “Besides—what if I’m pregnant?” She clicks her tongue. “Not doing anything to hurt your baby.”

She isn't pregnant; she's been taking tests weekly since she quit birth control. But it's fun to watch his pupils darken his earthy irises. He reaches for her like the touch gives him oxygen and squeezes her thigh beneath the table, beneath her dress. It must be the way she says your baby.

It's the way she says your baby that has Javier squeezing her like he's kneading dough. “Te voy a follar esta noche (I’m going to fuck you tonight),” he whispers in her ear, “y me daras una bebe (and you’ll give me a baby).”

She shivers, turning her head to slant her mouth over his. “Mi amor,” she mumbles, cupping his cheek and pulling away to look at him fondly.

“Was she nice to you?” asks Javier, attempting a casual tone.

“She was perfectly civil,” she scolds gently, “and she’s doing well. Says I make you happy.” She bites her lip when she grins at him. “That true, baby? I make you happy?”

Javier is inches away from taking her to a bathroom and fucking her inside a stall. “You make me”—he smiles back, squeezing both her thighs—“real happy.”

“I’ll make you even happier tonight,” she promises. His cock jumps in his jeans, but she stands abruptly with a wicked gleam in her eye. “I should go mingle some more.”

Javier nearly jumps to follow her like a puppy, but she’s gone and a body blocks his way before he can. “Don't be a hermit, mijo,” says his father. “Tu esposa is better at talking than you.”

Javier knows he's right, but he's having trouble suppressing his erection after her little promise in his ear. He clears his throat. “Sí,” he grumbles, staring longingly after his wife in her beautiful red dress, finding Danny and Lisa’s daughters, Annie and Mary. Her stunning smile is knocking them dead, and he feels pride swell inside him at how well she navigates this new town, this new family.

Something else rises to his throat, a choking feeling that makes him lightheaded and worsens the issue in his jeans. She's so good with those kids, happy with them, letting them lead her around by the hands and skirt and playing along with their games. When they call someone on their toy phone, she picks it up and starts a dramatic fight with someone on the other end.

Love scratches at him like a real bitch.

He does end up mingling from crowd to crowd, accepting handshakes and thanks and congratulations, as if he personally untied each of these people from railroad tracks. He doesn't deserve the way they clap his shoulder and smile and schmooze. Thank you for all you did over there, Javier.

Over there.

Like it was a fantastical world, something elusive and mystical. Exotic, exciting. He nods and smiles, moving through the room like he's prized cattle. He can bullshit his way out of red tape and death threats and deals gone sour. He can't bullshit his way out of people thanking him for a job well done.

“For a former varsity athlete, you handle attention like a turtle.”

When he turns his head, Lorraine is grinning like the cat who got the cream. He snorts, but it's scarcely heard over the music and chatter. “Good to see you, Lorraine.”

She embraces him and frowns. “You smell like mint.”

“Trying the Nicorette thing.” He grimaces.

“Why in the hell would you wanna do that?” She shrugs. “I guess I know why.” Her eyes flit toward his wife, still playing with Annie and Mary on the other side of the ballroom, and a smile lifts her mouth. “She's a catch, Peña.”

Her husband Randy materialises, their daughter Samantha on his shoulders. “Randy,” greets Javier, shaking his hand. “How you doing?”

“Good, man.” Randy grins up at his daughter. “Can't complain. I see you got hitched. Good for you.”

Apparently, it's the talk of the town. “Thanks,” says Javier. “Seems like you two got it pretty good.” He smiles at Samantha, whose apple cheeks flush as she returns his smile with a tentative wave. There's a shrunken lollipop in her hand.

Randy departs to take his daughter to the bathroom. Javier clears his throat. “Listen, Lorraine… I know what I did.” He tries to meet her eye, but his gaze keeps flickering back toward Samantha. The little girl he once thought was his. “We both fucked up. But I’m sorry. I shouldn't have done it like that.”

Lorraine sighs, lighting up a cigarette. “I’m sorry, too, Javier. But I can’t pretend like I’m not glad it happened. We were damn bad together.” He offers her an amused look. “I never should've lied to you. But it led me here, and it led you… well, there.” She smiles at the woman in the red dress who's carrying two four-year-olds on her hips and dancing with them to Gloria Estefan. “She loves you somethin’ fierce.”

He knows. God, he knows. “I don't deserve her.”

“And I don't deserve my little Sammy,” she says. “But I can't breathe without her. I think it's good to be a little selfish now and then, ain't it?”

Javier smiles, and something warm and gentle settles in his chest. “Might be right.”

The wedding is sweet and humble. She and Javier hold hands throughout the ceremony, and she cries even though she hardly knows the bride and groom. “Cariño,” he whispers in her ear as the bride and groom seal their vows with a kiss. He does the same to her, kissing a tear right from her cheek. “You want a ceremony like that, baby?”

She knows he'll give her anything if she wants it, even if he doesn't love the attention. But she shakes her head. “I have everything I want,” she tells him. “I’m looking at him right now.”

She offers to get drinks at the open bar for Javier and Chucho, sliding into a stool and ordering a whiskey and mojito. There's a lineup, but she has plenty of patience as a former waitress.

“I'd offer to buy you a drink, but it's free, so maybe I could just slide one over to you and pretend I paid?”

This comes from a man she doesn't recognise. He's tall and broad, wearing a nice grey suit and a head full of salt-and-pepper hair. He sits next to her, a perfectly pleasant smile on his face.

“You're very sweet,” she says, “but my husband might get the wrong idea.” She lifts her left hand and shows off the diamond.

He just watches her. “Is your husband here?”

Shit, she thinks. He's one of those. He may be joking, but Javier has been watching her all night, keeping an eye on her in that dress, and if he's been watching then, he's certainly watching now. And he'll see this man ignore a blatant refusal.

“He is,” she says evenly. The bartender, a Southern-comfort woman with a dimple and a curly up-do, signals at her with her eyes when she slides the drinks over, but she just smiles and shakes her head. One way or another, this will be handled soon.

The man flashes his own wedding ring at her, and oh, she thinks. He's one of those. “My wife’s here, too. You, uh… interested in sharing?”

“No.” Javier’s voice is short and rucked with irritation, that rasp of impatience that always makes him sidle up a bit closer to her, squeeze her waist a little harder. Her grumpy old dog. He doesn't even look at the swinger while he pushes his face into her throat and kisses her just below her jaw. “You're cold, baby.”

She isn’t cold at all. He shucks off his plaid shirt, leaving him in a grey T-shirt, and places it over her shoulders. and she wants to laugh at how purely and unabashedly territorial the action is.

“Javier, this is…” She lifts her brows to prompt the man, trying to remain polite.

“Mike.” He lifts his hand to shake Javier’s hand.

Her husband just glares. “You wanna fuck my wife, Mike?”

“Javi…”

Mike raises his hands as a mediating gesture. “I didn't mean to step on any toes. My wife and I… We just wanted to ask.”

“We know,” she says softly, sliding off the stool and pushing a drink into her husband’s hand. “Thank you for the offer, Mike, but we don’t share.”

He nods his understanding, a bit too vigorously, thanks to Javier’s deathly stare. “Of course. Sorry. Have a good night, you two.”

She practically drags Javier away from the bar and back to their table, but he just puts down the drinks, mumbles about the bathroom, and takes her hand. He pulls her along so fast she has to jog to keep up. “Javi, please,” she says, “slow down.”

He’s fuming by the time he pulls her into the fancy little bathroom and manhandles her against the door. His nostrils are flaring and his chest heaves even though they've walked about twenty feet. He's fucking mad. It shouldn't be sparking hot like stones in her core, making her body seek him a little more, her lips parting to take in more air.

“Javier.” It pushes out of her mouth like a desperate prayer.

He sighs real hard, his hand lifting to brush her hair behind her ear. She suspects it's the last-ditch effort at being gentle. She knows what's about to come.

“You've been teasing me all night,” he says lowly, not meeting her eye but instead tracing the pads of his fingers over her shoulder. They ghost over her collarbones, the hollow of her throat, the touch reverent but possessive. His eyes are black holes. “This fucking dress… You're so beautiful, baby.”

She shudders when his fingers drift down to her side, finding her thigh and hitching up the side of her dress. He wants to make her squirm, and it's working. She writhes in his grip as his fingers skirt her panties but never make a move to slip beneath them. “Suave,” he mutters. When he finds her pink lace panties, light enough they could be white, he swears. “You wear this for me?”

“Well, you look so good in pink,” she says. “Thought I’d try it out.”

He gives her ass a gentle slap. “Does this match?” he asks, a curious hand drifting up her ribs to where her bra should be.

“Not wearing one,” she says.

He bares his teeth like he wants to chew on her and squeezes her tits right through her dress. She sighs with the feeling, his greedy touch a balm to her skin, his fingers circling her hard nipples and his exploration drenching her core all the more for him. And yet, he's barely touching her.

“No one can see you like this,” he says. His wife is a work of art. She belongs in a museum. But he's a selfish man, and the thought of others admiring, lusting after, feeling her makes him grind his teeth for a cigarette. “No one but me. Tu esposo. ¿Claro?”

If he wants to tease her back, she'll match him.

“What if I wanted it?” she says breathlessly, sliding her hands up his strong, capable arms. “What if I was about to say yes?”

He recognises the game right away, but it doesn't amuse him. His hands shove her hips up against the door. He's done being gentle. “You wanted him to fuck you, huh?” His fingers finally dip into her panties and swipe through her slick cunt. “That what got you so wet? Thinkin’ about another man?”

“She wanted you,” she says, grasping his shoulder so she can steady herself. “His wife. You're so handsome, strong, sexy… She'd be stupid not to want you. What if you wanted her, too?”

He frowns deeply and buries his mouth in the curve of her throat. “Don’t give a shit about anyone’s wife but mine. Don't want to look at anyone else. Don't want anyone else looking at you.”

She doesn't want to torture her husband, not when he begins to rub circles on her clit. “Please, baby…”

“He thinks he can touch my wife,” he grunts, jaw clenched. “Thinks he can take what’s mine. You’re mine.”

The words drench her in sweat and want. Want, want, want. He pushes hard on her clit and she cries out. “Shhhh,” he says, nosing along her cheek until he finds her mouth but doesn't quite kiss her. Two fingers prod inside her, soak themselves in her wetness. He knows it's all for him. He's too damn cocky not to. Her head thuds against the door. “This body’s mine,” he grits out, punctuating each word with a roll of his thumb, a curl of his fingers. “This pussy’s mine. Nobody fucking. Touches. My. Wife.”

“Javi!” she whines, spiralling up toward her peak so fast she doesn't even see it coming. She coats his fingers with more slick and pants into his cheek, her legs buckling. He sucks a bruising kiss into her throat, growling against her skin. When he removes his fingers, the squelching sound makes her crumble like sand between his fingers, her wetness flooding her panties. She's still arching against him when he pulls them all the way down to her ankles and, when they're off, tucks them into his back pocket.

“Turn around and spread your legs.”

His voice, dark and demanding, makes her do it without question. She braces her hands on the door and feels him crowd her, hands on her hips and lips on her shoulder.

“Muy dulce,” he says into her skin. “You're not a fucking whore for other men to fucking use. Malparido… thinking I’d share this. I don't fucking share.”

“Only you,” she sighs, a hazy smile on her face at the feel of him draping himself over her. “It’s only you, amor. Mi esposo. Don't wanna share you with anyone.”

They don't have much time before someone comes looking, so he shoves his jeans down just enough to pull out his cock and collects her wetness on the head. She hums, ass pushing back on him. “Stay still,” he hisses, notching himself at her dripping hole. His animal half—the part that wants to mount her and fuck her so deep, so hard, that she feels him forever—itches up his throat and makes him grab at her with possessive hands. His fingers will bruise her hips, and she moans at the way he handles her like a doll.

“Should go back and knock his teeth out, looking at my fuckin’ wife like that.” Javier bottoms out inside her, feeding her his cock until he's pressing at her womb, his trembling hand snaking around to rest at her belly. All of him is trembling with impatience and rage, and a strained choke leaves her when he fucks into her deep. “That's it. Take it, bonita. Fuckin’ take me, good girl—”

He loses himself in his ramblings once he sets a pace, and it's a punishing one. For all his big talk, he goes non-verbal when he's inside her, slamming his hips against her round ass, watching it bounce, watching himself disappear inside her sweet, wet cunt. His cunt. He's obsessed with her: her body, her noises, the drag of his cock against her walls that suck him in so deep it's like they're trying to keep him there. “I’m yours, Javi,” she says, her breaths stuttering out as he slams his hips against her. “God, fuck, I’m yours. Take—take me like it.”

She knows what he wants, and she gives it to him happily. He needs to fuck all the anger out of his system, the rage he feels at knowing other men want her, that other men will try to take her from him, right fucking in front of him. She's a siren, beautiful and gentle and sweet, and he's a goddamned monster. He fucks her like one, and she coos at him softly through it all, telling him it's okay, take what you need, it's all yours, I’m all yours. No one else.

He makes her come again, the pressure on her belly and the aching rhythm of his cock pounding her deep, the wet noises of sex penetrating the room and fogging up the mirror. It's filthy and it makes her come all the same. She stiffens and gushes, her juices dribbling onto his length and down his balls, while she moans and gasps and tries to breathe.

He bares his teeth and sets a faster pace, bringing her body up against his chest as he puffs into her neck and reaches deeper, harder, somehow. She whimpers at the unexpected surge of pleasure she gets from being used like a toy for him to dump his cum inside. Just for him. He's normally so considerate, so gentle, and the rough edges he's working out now are chipping away at her. Now, she's coming again, suddenly, unaware of it until it's upon her.

“Ohhhh,” she moans, shivering, a spray of wetness soaking his cock until it's so slick with her that he's nearly slipping out.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” he pants, working her limp body for himself, pushed ever closer to the edge by her gush of cum all over him. It's so easy to tug her hair, bite down on her shoulder, push his cock so deep inside her it kisses her womb. It's so easy to use her and bend her when she's like this, pliant and hazy in her orgasmic state.

“I'm the one who gets to fuck you like this,” he says, smacking the side of her thigh. “I’m the one who gets to give you a baby. Want me to give you a baby?”

She's muttering, yes, yes, yes, over and over, and he only comes when he's pressed as much of himself inside her as he can. He spills endlessly, hot cum spurting inside her and dripping out around his cock. There's so much of it that he pulls out until only his head is left inside, watching it twitch and pump its load into her used pussy. Then, he pushes himself all the way back inside and finishes at her womb, hissing at the way she rolls her hips against him to collect more of what he's giving her.

"Ávida,” he grumbles, kissing her cheek and the corner of her mouth. “So good, baby. I’m… shit, I’m sorry.”

She giggles, drunk on cock. “Sorry? But I love when you fill me up.”

He pulls out and turns her around just so he can look at her. She looks like she's been fucked, hard. Her eyes are red and rimmed with tears, her lips puffy and her cheek rosy from being pressed up against the door. Her pussy is dripping his spend down her thighs, which tremble from the force of his need for her. “When you say things like that,” he says, swiping his thumb across her chin, “you make me wanna fuck you all over again.”

She just giggles again. Javier cleans her up and slides her panties back up her legs so nobody sees her bare ass. He secures his jeans over his hips and buttons up his flannel over her shoulders. “You like me wearing your clothes,” she says.

“I like you all the time.” He kisses her. “Did I hurt you?”

“Only in the ways that count, vaquero. I won't break that easily.” She brushes her hair with her fingers and beams at him. “I like you showing me what's yours.”

He pulls her in by the waist. “No shithead swinger is gonna take you from me.”

Everyone knows what they've done when they walk out together, looking mildly more sweaty than they were when they arrived. Still, the party goes on. People fuck at weddings all the time.

It's what he tells himself when his father looks sternly at him and Javier feels like he's fifteen all over again. His wife looks just as sheepish, but it doesn't stop him from reaching for her hand under the table and holding it for the rest of the reception.

“Javi!”

Her shaky voice comes from the front hall, and it shifts Javier’s senses into red-alert. He bolts out of the kitchen and meets her at the front door, ready and eager to tell someone to fuck off. But she's alone. Staring down at a piece of paper.

“Baby? What's wrong?” He caresses her arms from behind, squinting at the small print of the letter. He isn't wearing his glasses.

“They…” She turns in his grasp and he finds uncertainty in her eyes. “They signed off. To bring you back.”

prev | next

#kiwisbell's fics #las mañanas #javier peña #javier peña smut #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña fic #javier peña x reader #narcos fic #narcos fanfiction #narcos

132 notes · View notes

dewedup · 8 months

Note

Anon here again. Upon seeing one of your reblogs, I know what to request :) Rain/Dew daddy Rain. Go wild. <3

you said go wild and i took that to heart

i was going to use this as an excuse to try my hand at writing some absolutely filthy smut, i hope you enjoy!

earthly delight (raindrop)

“Thank you,” Dew whispers, looking down to the ground submissively. Rain’s gloved hand wraps tightly under Dew’s chin, tilting his head back up to stare directly into his eyes.

“Thank you what?” Rain snarls, his lip curling back to reveal his fangs in a predatory manner. If Dew wasn’t already turned on, the look of disgust on Rain’s face would have him rock hard instantly.

“Thank you, Daddy.”

or Rain's just in the greenhouse trying to get some peace and quiet but Dew is bored and horny.

18+ ONLY

Pairing: Dewdrop x Rain (Raindrop)

Fandom: The Band Ghost

Words: 2,490

Tags: Daddy Kink, Face Slapping, Improvised Sex Toys, improvised lube, Spit Kink, Facials, Come Swallowing, Come Eating, Spanking, gardening kink?, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Explicit Sexual Content, Anal Play, Semi-Public Sex, Dewdrop Is A Little Shit, Smut, Overstimulation, Daddy Rain, Bratty Dew

Read below the cut or AO3 link

a massive, love-filled shoutout to @jimothybarnes for being the best beta, smut-writing guide, cheerleader, for talking about ideas and motivating me to work this out and catching things my terrible eyes missed (any remaining errors or mistakes are all me though!)

Something about the feeling of burrowing his hands into soft dirt, cradling the roots of a new bloom with a touch so delicate it could ghost the surface of a body of water without creating as much as ripple, gives Rain the deepest sense of peace. He knows exactly why Mountain chooses to spend so much time in the greenhouse, the fresh oxygen tinged with the gritty smell of fertilizer is calming. It’s why he doesn’t hesitate to take Mountain up on his offer of helping with repotting some of the seeds that had started to take root.

He's a natural, and his ability to sense the level of hydration in the plants comes in handy, instantly learning how much water would suffice for each species. He even found a plant identification textbook in the library and will lay in bed at night, absorbing the information like a plant absorbs the sunlight.

Mountain left a little while ago, Aurora was trying to build an IKEA shelf for her room, but it was getting a little too tall for her to reach. Mount, taking pity on the vertically challenged ghoulette, left Rain to his own devices in the greenhouse.

Rain places the seedling into the larger pot, covering the hole with dirt and singing softly to the plant in ghoulish as he restores it to its former glory. Mountain insists that singing inspires the plants to grow and Rain hasn’t read that in his textbook, but as a novice gardener he has no right to question Mountain’s ethics. He therefore calls forth the soft lullabies of his childhood for the lives he holds in his hands.

Rain startles as a handful of dirt hits the back of his neck, knocking over the watering jug beside him in his surprise. He turns around to see Dew smirking from a few feet away, brushing his hand onto his pant leg to remove any lingering debris.

“How long have you been there?” Rain demands, his voice cracking slightly in embarrassment at having been caught by surprise. Dew shrugs his shoulders, taking a few steps closer as his claws trail along the leaves of the plants in his direct vicinity.

“I’d say I’m at least three songs deep,” Dew chuckles, coming to a stop in front of Rain. “I haven’t heard those in centuries, do you take requests?” Rain flushes brightly at being caught in the act. Mountain was definitely fucking with him about the singing, he’d have to address that later.

“I’d like to request that you fuck off and go bother somebody else,” Rain replies, irritation seeping into his tone at the interruption of his peace and quiet. He realizes his mistake as Dew’s eyes flash dangerously, the challenge written in the way his lips tilt upwards.

“Oh yeah you’d like that wouldn’t you?” Dew teases, reaching out to push the hand trowel Rain had left on the counter, knocking it onto the floor while never breaking eye contact. Rain’s entire body tenses as Dew smiles up at him innocently. He takes a deep breath through his nose, taking his time to respond as Dew continues to stare at him, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

“Pick it up.” The authoritative tone Rain uses seems to be exactly what Dew’s looking for as he grins up at the water ghoul. But then again, he also isn’t one to give in that easily.

“I don’t think I will,” Dew argues, but the words have barely left his lips before a resounding smack echoes across the greenhouse, Rain’s palm making firm contact with Dew’s left cheek. The fire ghoul’s head snaps to the side at the force and he shakes it slightly before looking back up at Rain’s stoic face.

“I said, pick it up.” Rain repeats, using a gloved hand to point to the ground where the trowel lays. Dew swallows loudly as he breaks eye contact, ducking his head as he slowly lowers himself to the dirt-covered floor, kneeling to pick up the tool he knocked off the table. He remains on his knees as he holds the trowel in his palms, raising it to Rain. The water ghoul runs his eyes over the offering, seeming to weigh the meaning of the gesture with an almost bored look. Dew tenses in anticipation the longer Rain towers over him in consideration, his cock hardening in interest at the blatant display of disregard, as if he’s not even worth Rain’s time.

Rain seems to reach a verdict, his hand snapping out once again, making contact with Dew’s cheek again. The back of his knuckles hit the hardest and Dew’s a little disappointed that Rain’s still wearing gardening gloves, he relishes the sweet sting the pretty rings he wears leave with each brush against his cheek.

“Thank you,” Dew whispers, looking down to the ground submissively. Rain’s gloved hand wraps tightly under Dew’s chin, tilting his head back up to stare directly into his eyes.

“Thank you, Daddy,” Dew corrects, shifting slightly as the water from the spilled jug seeps into his pants at the knees, cold and uncomfortable as Rain just watches from above with disinterest. He takes note of Dew’s discomfort but makes no move to let the ghoul rise from his position, instead watching as the wet patches spread over the material of his pants.

“Good ghoul,” Rain praises, moving his hand from Dew’s chin to his cheek, caressing where it’s stained red from the attention he’s given it. “A treat for such a good boy,” Rain murmurs, circling Dew’s mouth with his thumb before resting it on his bottom lip. Dew eagerly bites down on the material, keeping a hold of it as Rain tugs his hand back. They repeat this process with each finger, Dew’s teeth clenching around the fingertips of the gloves as Rain works his hand free until the glove falls off completely, Dew letting it hit the ground as he readies for the second glove.

The backhand across his cheek is more powerful than the previous, the rings no longer being covered leave two small cuts on Dew’s cheekbone as he looks up at Rain in confusion.

“I didn’t say to drop it,” Rain drawls in disappointment, gesturing to the glove on the ground. Dew reaches to grab it but freezes as Rain tsks, the sound of his tongue echoing in the empty greenhouse. "Not with your hands.”

Dew glances warily at the glove, now sitting in the same puddle of muddy water that he is currently kneeling in. Rain growls low in his throat, the warning clear as Dew braces his hands on the floor, lowering his upper half to the ground as he stretches his neck, teeth securing the glove for a second time. He returns to his kneeling position, the glove dripping dirt-tinged water onto his clothes as he presents the prize back to Rain, feeling more like a dog than a ghoul as he waits. Rain pauses for a minute, before reaching out, pinching the glove by a small, clean corner as he raises it to his eye-level, observing the object longer than necessary as Dew looks up at him, waiting eagerly for the next instruction.

“It’s dirty,” Rain declares, lowering the glove back to hang dauntingly before Dew’s face. The fire ghoul hesitates briefly before he darts his tongue out, licking tentatively at the piece of clothing. The water tastes earthy on his tongue; the grittiness of the dirt is mixed with a slight tang that must be the Miracle-Gro Mountain denies using. Dew thanks his lucky stars he’s a ghoul and not human, his superior body able to break down the toxins that would surely leave a flesh bag with some lasting side effects. Dew looks up at Rain from beneath his eyelashes as he continues to clean the garment, the water ghoul’s eyes glued to every flick of his tongue. Just when he’s getting into a rhythm, Rain pulls back with a satisfied look.

“Is that good, Daddy?” The words come out in a desperate plea as Rain adjusts the obvious bulge in his pants. Dew absolutely preens as Rain smiles down at him, the sight as gorgeous as it is every time Dew’s on the receiving end of that look, filled with love and adoration. Rain offers a hand down to the ghoul, which he gladly accepts, being pulled up from his kneeling position.

As he rises the smile shifts, Rain’s lips tilting into something else, mocking the beautiful smile he’d worn only moments before with a devilish twist.

In one swift movement Rain spits onto the glove, pulling Dew close and shoving it into his mouth. Dew makes a noise of surprise that’s muffled by the makeshift gag as Rain turns him around and bends him over the edge of the worktable.

“You know you were being naughty,” Rain drawls, his fingers making quick work of Dew’s pants and exposing him to the humid air of the greenhouse. “And you know what happens when you’re being naughty, don’t you baby?”

The ‘yes Daddy’ is unrecognizable with the glove in his mouth, but Rain can put two and two together. His hand runs teasingly along the ghoul’s ass before he raises and brings it down firmly, the skin-to-skin contact tingling his palm with the force exerted. Dew moans loudly into the glove, wiggling in pleasure. Rain coos softly, rubbing at the red marred flesh. An idea hits him as his eyes land on the forgotten trowel and he’s grabbing it in the next second, admiring the tool as Dew looks back over his shoulder in anticipation.

“I think your punishment will be that you don’t get my cock,” Rain muses aloud, ignoring the muffled whine the fire ghoul releases. He tuts softly as he bends down scooping up a handful of mud from the floor. He coats the handle of the trowel in the mixture, making sure it’s completely covered, before bringing it to Dew’s tight asshole.

Dew’s eyes widen in surprise as he watches the best he can, his dick twitching at the malevolent look on Rain’s face. Rain pushes the handle, forcing Dew to open up to let it in. Dew lets out a hiss at the breach, the handle is big enough to burn without any prep and the grittiness from the mud catching his skin in a stinging pain. Rain eases it in, twisting and pushing as he works open the ghoul below him, the layer of filth around the puckered hole building the further he pushes in. He brings his hand down again, spanking with the same palm he used to gather the ‘lube’. The dirt leaves a perfect image of his hand on Dew’s ass cheek, the splattering flecks surrounding it creating the most beautiful work of art.

Rain wishes he had a camera to capture how perfect his ghoul looks right now.

“So good for Daddy,” Rain purrs, and Dew clenches tightly around the handle of the trowel. He’ll need at least three showers before he feels any semblance of clean again, but the added texture of the dirt feels unholy now, as Rain starts to fuck into him in earnest with the gardening tool.

Dew can feel the drool that manages to escape the glove sliding down his chin, every pant and moan coming out like ancient ghoulish, unrecognizable. His eyes roll back into his head as Rain angles the trowel so that it’s brushing right against his prostate, pleasure sparking all the way to his fingertips from the inside.

Dew yelps as Rain’s hand finds it’s home around his painfully hard cock, the dirt adding to the sensation as he jerks him off furiously, the overstimulation of both movements pushing Dew over the edge almost instantly.

Rain doesn’t let up, continuing to move his hands as Dew writhes under him, flinching with each movement.

“C’mon baby, do it again for me,” Rain begs, Dew mewling pathetically in response as every touch feels like an electric shock. He knows he won’t be able to cum again so soon, but fuck would he do anything to please the water ghoul above him. Unintelligible babbles leave his glove-filled mouth as Rain continues the torturous touches, milking his already spent cock.

Rain finally releases the ghoul before him, removing the hand trowel and leaving wet open-mouthed kisses along Dew’s neck as he runs his fingers over his slim frame, resting them lightly on the dip of his hips. He pulls the ghoul into him, using the sharp edges of Dew’s body to bring himself closer to the edge of his own pleasure. Dew whines at his lack of involvement and Rain shushes him, turning his body around until Dew is kneeling before him once again. He carefully removes the glove from Dew’s mouth, the fire ghoul licking his lips with the new-found freedom before he discreetly wipes the drool from his chin.

“Are you thirsty, baby?” Rain purrs, running his claws delicately down Dew’s cheek, brushing over the cuts from earlier, earning a hiss from the fire ghoul. Dew stares at him, eyes wide, and nods his head.

“Yes, Daddy,” Dew whimpers, pleading eyes staring up at Rain from underneath his lashes and Rain has to bite his lip to stifle the filthy groan that tries to escape. His gaze drops down to Dew's lips, and Rain can't help but admire how pink and inviting they look. He licks his own lips unconsciously, and Dew's eyes follow the motion.

Rain’s hand moves from Dew’s cheek to his chin, grasping tightly as Dew keeps eye contact as he slowly opens his mouth, stretching as far as he can and sticking his tongue out slightly. Rain leans closer and spits directly into his mouth, the saliva landing on Dew’s tongue and he swallows like he’s been in the desert heat for days without water.

A hungry roar rips from Rain’s throat as he jerks off furiously, pointing towards Dew’s open mouth as he comes with a shuddering groan. Dew tries to catch everything on his tongue, opening as wide as he possibly can. Rain watches in fascination as Dew uses his tongue to push the mess almost spilling out of his mouth, before he swallows slowly, sticking his tongue back out to show Rain his hard work. Rain’s breath hitches at the deliberate movements, his lips spreading into a delicious grin before he leans down, stopping in front of Dew’s mouth, before licking out at the corner, collecting some of the seed he hadn’t managed to get into the hole. He keeps the mess on his tongue, showing the fire ghoul his own cleaning skills before he swallows down the taste of himself.

#thank you for the ask!!#thank you for the request!!!#the band ghost #the band ghost fanfic #the band ghost fanfiction #raindrop #raindrop fanfic #dewdrop x rain #dewdrop/rain #dewdrop ghoul x rain ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #rain ghoul #gloom writes #fic request #daddy rain #bratty dew #gloom answers

46 notes · View notes

hypnotisedfireflies · 5 months

Note

Your honor, I am requesting TessJoel & Tess’s assistant supporting Sarah at a really terrible musical she’s in. This is a challenge because you hate fluff. But we, your loyal audience, adore your fluff.

You have made me relive some high school trauma, my friend. I listened to the soundtrack and it took me back places I never, ever wanted to go again. I cannot vouch for anything I've written. In fact, there's a chance that below the cut is just:

"all Joseph and no play makes Arien a dull girl"

over and over. I just don't know.

Go, Go, Go Joseph!

Between Chapters 41 and 42 of Snowqueen of Texas.

Ji-Min was on Tess’s left and Joel on her right and the moods between the two could not have been more different. Ms Positivity and Light was poring over the program and chattering enthusiastically about her school musical experiences. Joel was quiet, uncomfortable. He smelt the horrors yet to come and was helpless to parent his daughter out of the danger.

“I actually have kind of an amazing voice,” Ji-Min continued. “I did this when I was in school, can you believe that? I played the Narrator. I still know all the words. And then the next year I got to be Sarah Sister Brown in Guys and Dolls. Ha. Can you imagine? And the year after that –”

Tess leaned sideways into Joel and pulled his hand into her lap. “Are you gonna make it?”

“It never gets easier,” he admitted, staring at the seat in front of him. “If anything, it just gets worse. Every year, they get worse.”

“How did Tommy get out of this?”

“Work dinner with Maria,” he answered. “Thing is, Tommy actually likes these fuckin’ things.”

Ji-Min squealed and thrust the program in their faces. “Look, there she is! She looks so pretty, Joel!”

And there was Sarah’s smiling photo. Sarah Miller is NAPHTALI.

“I would never have picked Sarah as willingly joining a musical,” Tess commented, passing the program back to Ji-Min.

“Her fuckin’ friends,” Joel muttered. “Poppy and Taissa, specifically. You know what really pisses me off, though? Taissa didn’t even get cast this year. There was a whole thing between them about it.”

“Oh – is that what that was about?”

Ji-Min leaned over, nodding enthusiastically. “Yeah, Taissa wanted her to quit and tell Miss Oswald to cast her instead. Keep an eye open for Joseph. Everyone’s chasing him.”

“Sarah?”

“No,” Ji-Min folded her program back and fanned herself. “She’s dated the Baker a couple of times.”

Joel looked at Tess’s profile. “You know about that?”

“No, of course not,” Tess lied, squeezing his hand.

The lights dimmed and gentle music filtered down. A single spot washed out a girl in a tuxedo, her hair slicked back.

“Some folks dream of the wonders they'll do Before their time on this planet is through…”

Ji-Min was passionately mouthing along. The girl’s voice wasn’t bad, but this was going to be hard to listen to for the next …. However long they were trapped here. The prologue finished and a soft calypso beat filled the auditorium.

Sarah had told Tess about Scott, who played Joesph. Scott was the lead singer of the school’s resident metal band and while his voice was … fine … it wasn’t really geared toward a matinee musical. The softness of Any Dream Will Do took on a new edge. By the time he neared the end of the number the innocence was lost and his voice had taken on a raspy, electric edge.

“Why is he wearing leather pants?” Joel muttered. “Those are leather pants, right?”

“He’s gonna regret that under that spot,” Ji-Min murmured, almost looking frightened for him. “I saw someone get stuck in a pair of leather pants once. They had to cut him out. With nail scissors.”

The band nearly knocked them out of their seats with noisy, overly loud fanfare.

“Oh sweet Jesus,” Tess whispered.

The Narrator was almost shouting to be heard over the top.

“JACOB!! JACOB AND SONS!!”

Ji-Min interrupted her own sing-a-long to point. “There she is!”

Sarah had appeared on the side of the stage with the rest of Jacob’s sons.

"...AND RED AND YELLOW AND GREEN AND BROWN AND SCARLET AND BLACK AND OCHRE AND PEACH AND RUBY AND OLIVE AND VIOLET AND FAWN AND LILAC AND GOLD AND CHOCOLATE AND MAUVE AND CREAM AND CRIMSON AND SILVER AND ROSE AND AZURE AND LEMON AND RUSSET AND GREY AND PURPLE AND WHITE AND PINK AND ORANGE AND BLUE!”

Every colour was like a fresh blow across the head.

“Wait, Joseph’s supposed to be the good guy?” Joel muttered in the next song.

It was all kind of downhill from there. It rapidly became clear that the band had only moderate success with learning how to play all the songs together. The first few numbers were pretty tight and then it began to unravel at a frightening rate. It was painfully under rehearsed and too loud. The drowned out the softer singers and the bolder overcompensated. The choreography was standard, framed around the few solid dancers they had, who took up most of the space and sometimes just gave over to wild dancing that was all about showing off skill, regardless of whether it suited the scene or not.

By Go, Go, Go Joseph, Joel brought Tess’s fingers to his lips and closed his eyes. He tilted their heads together.

“I am so fuckin’ sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“Please don’t leave me.”

Tess’s witty response was swallowed up by her giggles. What else was she supposed to do? They still had all of Act II to contend with.

Ji-Min leaned over. “When I need to really pick myself up, I sing this to myself. I mean, not all of it. Just the plucky bit. Doesn’t it just make you feel like you can do anything? It packs the same punch as Flashdance.”

Joel covertly gestured to her PA. “You willingly made friends with this woman?”

“GO, GO, GO JOSEPH YOU KNOW WHAT THEY SAY HANG ON NOW JOSEPH YOU'LL MAKE IT SOME DAY SHA LA LA JOSEPH YOU'RE STILL IN YOUR PRIME YOU AND YOUR DREAMCOAT AHEAD OF YOUR TIME!”

“What if I asked you to learn this for me?” Tess whispered in his ear.

“I’d leave you.”

Intermission began. Ji-Min got chatting to one of the teachers involved and Tess pulled Joel aside. She glanced down the empty corridor lined with lockers and pulled him along with her.

“Tess, no,” he weakly protested. “We’d get Sarah expelled.”

“Shut up,” she laughed. “You’ve got a dirty mind.”

“No way I can get it up anyway. No way I can ever get it up again.”

Tess stopped around the corner, a darker corridor. She reached into her handbag and fished out a little flask.

“I came prepared. I thought weed might be better, honestly, but they’re trained to sniff that shit out in places like this.”

“What is it?” Joel took the flash and uncapped it. “Whisky?”

“Mm hm.”

“Fuckin’ godsend,” he muttered. Joel kissed the top of her head and they shared a few clandestine nips before heading back to the auditorium to suffer through Act II – though perhaps now they had the fortitude to survive it.

Act II seemed longer, but everything wrong with the horrendous musical was suddenly a little easier to bear. They giggled through the Pharoah’s song and Ji-Min was most encouraged by their change of heart until she caught a whiff of the whisky.

She tutted at them. Then: “Any left?”

Tess passed her the flask and she slouched down in her seat to finish it off over the course of the song.

“Why is he Elvis?!” Joel finally asked, scandalised.

Tess pressed her hands to her face. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “Why are they so loud!?”

“COULD IT BE, COULD IT BE COULD IT BE, COULD IT BE COULD IT BE, COULD IT BE COULD IT POSSIBLY BE BENJAMIN? YES! YES! YES!”

Ji-Min leaned forward and gaped. “It’s getting worse! Is it getting worse?”

“I thought you were enjoyin’ it!” Joel hissed across Tess’s lap.

“My musical was the living end, Joel. The living end. There is no therapy that will fix your daughter after this. Or you. You’ll be singing these songs for weeks.”

“You’re singin’ along!”

“I’m reliving my trauma!”

Tess squinted at the colourful stage. Nobody seemed to know what they were doing anymore. The Narrator was doing her level best to hold it together but most of the kids were looking at each other to guess what they were supposed to do next.

And then it seemed to be mercifully over – but no, it was just a repeat of that song again, the namesake song. At least they all kind of knew what they were doing with that one, though. Then there was an indeterminable flurry of bows and thanks to this person and that. But by then, Tess was just looking at Sarah. She was giggling with two of the other brother roles and looked so alive, so thrilled with herself. She was a smart girl. She knew it was garbage, and she was still having the time of her life up there.

They met Sarah outside. Ji-Min rushed to grab her and handed over the big bunch of flowers she’d left in the back of the car. Sarah’s flushed, pleased face peered out from above the tulips. “Thank you!”

“You were great!”

“How bad was it?” Sarah asked, looking from one face to the next.

“It was pretty bad,” Tess admitted.

Joel and Ji-Min looked at her in horror.

“Oh come on, she knows.”

“It was so bad,” Sarah agreed and began to laugh, pushing her face into the flowers. “Oh my God. I am so glad that is over. I am done. I am done forever.”

“We need to get out of here,” Ji-Min said, and turned to the car.

Tess leaned over and kissed Sarah’s cheek. “You were amazing, though.”

“Fully technicolour?”

“Let’s not push it.”

Tess got behind the wheel. Ji-Min was texting and complaining about her sister, but Tess’s gaze was on the rearview mirror. She watched Joel and Sarah talking. She beamed at him and he pulled her in for a tight hug under one arm, kissing the side of her head repeatedly. The car bounced back and forth as they climbed in.

“Can we get milkshakes?” Sarah asked.

“You haven’t asked enough of me for one night?” Joel asked. He grinned at her and then swung to Ji-Min. “You want to come, too?”

Ji-Min nodded distractedly. “Yeah. I just – gotta call my sister. She’s freaking out again.”

It took ages to get out of the carpark. Tess put the foot down once they were clear and headed to Sarah’s favourite milkshake spot. Her fingers tapped on the steering wheel until Joel reached across to stop her at the lights.

“Don’t. Don’t do that.”

“IT WAS RED AND YELLOW AND GREEN AND BROWN AND SCARLET AND BLACK AND OCHRE AND PEACH AND RUBY AND OLIVE AND VIOLET AND FAWN…”

#driftersverse #asks #tlou #tlou fanfic

19 notes · View notes

x0x0josephinex0x0 · 6 months

Text

fire & ice | sunghoon

High school au, bsf->bf, all fluff, bday, bullying mentioned

You sit in your classroom, your pencil tapping rhythmically against your notebook as the teacher's words blur into the background. Just thirty more minutes of this, and then it’s lunchtime, you remind yourself. Thirty more minutes until freedom. Your stomach grumbles in anticipation, and you try not to think about the meal your mom has waiting for you at home in celebration of your birthday.

After what feels like an age, the bell finally rings, releasing you. You sling your backpack over your shoulder and make a beeline for the door, one step short of sprinting from the school building. However, just as the doors to the outside world enter your line of sight, someone steps into your path, and you collide with him. “Whoa,” he says, and you feel hands reaching around your shoulders to steady you as you bounce backward. You immediately recognize the voice of your best friend, Sunghoon. “In a bit of a hurry, I see.”

You look up at him sheepishly. “Sorry,” you say, giving him your best apologetic smile.

He chuckles at your expression. “Headed home?” he guesses.

You nod. “Mom made fried chicken.”

He makes an approving face. “Happy birthday to you.” He throws an arm around your shoulders. “Well, as the only person present with a driver’s license, I think I should drive you home,” he says.

“I know you just want the chicken,” you say, rolling your eyes and grinning. “Although, you know who else wants you to have the chicken?”

“Your mom,” Sunghoon says, nodding. “I know I’m her favorite.”

“You really are,” you say, smiling wider despite yourself. “I bet if we ever stopped being friends she’d adopt you just so she could keep feeding you.”

“I’d honestly be down. Your mom is an excellent cook,” he says, steering the two of you out the doors into the parking lot. “We’ll never stop being friends, though. So no adoption is necessary.”

He holds out his hand for a fist bump before releasing your shoulders so you can climb into the passenger side of his car. He checks that you’re buckled in before driving off. His music is far too loud -- as always -- and you roll the windows down as it blasts, singing along with him, the both of you terribly off-key. By the time you arrive home, your hair is crazy from the wind, and he looks equally ridiculous, his normally carefully styled hair sticking nearly straight up in the front.

“Wow,” you tease. “Handsome.”

He looks in the car mirror. “You know, I’m impressed that I can even make this look good,” he says, studying himself with humor in his voice. “Should I return to school like this? Make it a trend?”

“The worst thing about that is that you probably could convince people this is a good look,” you say, leaving the car. “Come on, the chicken won’t eat itself.”

Your mom is predictably thrilled to see Sunghoon. She makes you both a plate of food and then leaves you alone at the kitchen counter to eat and talk. Once he’s sure she’s out of sight, Sunghoon turns to you. “So, I have a present for you.”

You look at him, surprised. “You do? You’ve never gotten me a present before.”

And suspiciously, he looks uncharacteristically shy for a moment. “Well,” he says, seeming to choose his words very carefully, “we’ve been through a lot together this year, and I wanted to say thank you, I guess.” He blushes.

You try to keep yourself from laughing, knowing he’d be mortified. He isn’t wrong -- this year has been full of ups and downs. Just a couple months previously, there had been a girl who liked Sunghoon. This was normal -- he was handsome and charming and kind, and since you’d become friends in seventh grade math class, plenty of girls had liked him. But this girl also came with a mean streak, and she was wildly jealous of your friendship with Sunghoon. It had taken a lot of communication and commitment to keep your friendship intact through the rumors she had started about you. A few weeks ago, she had actually been suspended from school for bullying.

Sunghoon, for his part, had stuck by your side through all of it -- even when his own group of friends had believed the rumors and had shut you out. You felt awful, but he seemed unbothered. “What’s a friend group without your best friend?” he’d told you one night after a particularly traumatic moment. You, in tears, had suggested, in a dramatic confrontation under the bleachers, that maybe he was better off without being friends with you, and his response had been both comforting and heartbreaking. He’d given you a huge hug, holding you for far longer than he needed to, and when you’d pulled away, he was smiling. “I’d rather have you than have a lot of friends. So don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere.”

You’d been friends for a long time, but this was the first time he had given you butterflies. It wasn’t just his loyalty to your friendship. It was also how self-assured and confident he was in the face of losing his other friends. You admired how much he didn’t need their support to feel valued or worthy. Although you hadn’t ever told him, you thought he was one of the most amazing people you’d ever met.

“Okay,” you say. “What is it? The present, I mean.”

He smiles to himself. “Well, I’m planning on showing you. Tonight at 6. Are you free?”

“Oh,” you say, taken aback. “Uh, yeah. I’m free.”

“Sweet,” he says. “I think you’ll need your mom to drive you. Is that okay?”

“Why can’t you drive me?” you ask, now mildly alarmed.

“If I tell you that, I might give it away,” he says. You keep expecting him to grin or laugh, but he looks serious and a little nervous.

This is so unlike him that you just find yourself staring at him. He looks away from you, playing with his water cup, and the corners of his mouth are upturned in the tiniest smile. “I am worried about you,” you finally say, and the smile gets wider.

“Good,” he says, getting up from the counter, leaning in, and giving you a kiss on the forehead. “I’ll see you tonight.” And with that, he shoulders his school bag and strides away.

Did he just kiss me? You think to yourself as you watch him go. A part of you wants to call him back and make him explain everything to you — whatever just happened, whatever this pounding in your heart must mean — but you sense he needs the space right now, so you don’t.

Your mother allows you to skip your fourth-period class, where you TA for one of your favorite teachers. You find yourself searching for things to do to fill the time until 6pm to distract you from how nervous you are. You have never been nervous to hang out with Sunghoon, but this feels different — weightier somehow.

Finally, it’s time. Your mom chatters happily to you while she drives you. It’s a minute before you realize you have no idea where she’s going. “Mom, where are you taking me?” you ask.

She laughs. “Sunghoon told me not to tell you.”

“He texted you?” you ask incredulously. She nods. You shake your head. “I am amazed at his preparation.”

“He’s amazing,” your mom agrees.

When she finally pulls up to the building where she’s dropping you off, you recognize it. You turn to your mom with wide eyes, and she smiles knowingly at you. “No way,” you say.

“Yes way,” she says. “Get in there.”

You are flooded with nostalgia as you step inside the ice rink for the first time in five years. This was the place where you met Sunghoon and befriended him — in ice skating lessons at age twelve. Unexpectedly, the normally busy rink is completely empty but for a lone skater on the ice. The lights have been dimmed, and the twinkle lights strung over the ice are glimmering, reflecting off the smooth, freshly buffed surface.

And there he is, wearing a jacket to protect him from the cold, looking at you with stars in his eyes — Sunghoon. He skates over to you, and you immediately notice how comfortable he seems on the ice.

“Hi,” he mouths from behind the wall. He points at the changing benches, where you can see a jacket, a beanie, and a pair of skates for you.

Your jaw drops. You go over to the bench slowly, tugging on the jacket and beanie, while Sunghoon comes out to greet you. He bends down and helps you into the skates. They are old and pliable, but clean — the perfect robin’s egg blue color, with new blades that you have a sneaking suspicion Sunghoon has recently replaced for you. He smiles at you as he laces them up. “Surprised?” he asks, his voice teasing.

You give a nervous laugh. “I don’t know if I’ve ever been more surprised in my life.”

He stands up, holding out his hand, and you take it, letting him guide you onto the ice. He keeps your hand as you do a slow lap around the rink, trying to recall the long-forgotten lessons. You’re not bad, but within minutes, he is skating backwards while holding both of your hands. “Since when did you get good at ice skating?” you ask him, a little indignantly.

“Well, my mom never pulled me out of lessons,” he explains, his eyes on your face as he skates. “And if I’m being honest, I knew you really loved it. Maybe more than I did. And even though you never said it, I could tell you really hated not to be doing it anymore. So I decided to learn to skate so I could teach you.”

You laugh. “You learned figure skating so you could teach me?” you say incredulously.

Sunghoon gives a knowing smile before letting go of your hands, pushing himself backward into a smooth glide and then twisting into a perfect triple axle. You are so shocked that you stumble on the ice, slipping and falling onto your butt with a painful thud.

When he turns to look at you, he laughs. “What happened?”

“I was so bamboozled that I fell down,” you admit, your face red, but your sense of humor intact. You look up at him as he skates over to you, crouching down to meet your eyes. The frigid water is seeping through your jeans, but you fix him with a serious gaze.

“You really learned all that for me?” you ask him softly.

He looks down at his gloved hands. “It’s the least I could do for the best friend I’ve ever had,” he says quietly, avoiding your gaze. “I would’ve done this for you years earlier, but I didn’t think I was good enough yet.”

You roll your eyes. “So when were you gonna tell me? When you got a gold medal in the Olympics?”

He finally meets your eyes, and he’s smiling. “I’ve been teaching seven-year-olds early morning skating lessons, so I figured I finally had the necessary experience to teach you, too.”

You gasp, and then slug him lightly on the arm. “That is so rude of you,” you tell him, and he laughs.

“That, and,” he continues, “this really seemed like the right year to do it. It felt significant, you know?”

You eye him ruefully. “I know what you mean.”

He extends his hand to you again, and pulls you to your feet carefully. Then, he takes up position behind you, holding your arms extended. “Try to skate in time with me,” he instructs. You glide alongside him, feeling more steady in his arms, and let out a giggle. You had forgotten how much it feels like flying.

Over the next hour or so, you practice various simple skating skills, with Sunghoon watching carefully and catching you before you fall. Afterward, you collapse into a bench in the hockey penalty box, breathing hard, but feeling happier than you have been all year. “I can’t believe I didn’t know this about you,” you say to Sunghoon as he joins you. “You’ve kept this secret since we became friends, almost five years ago.”

He nods, pleased. “Isn’t it awesome?”

You put a hand on his knee. “It’s incredibly awesome,” you agree. “Thank you.”

He slips his hand over yours. “Anytime,” he says quietly, then takes a deep breath in. “Do you remember our first skating lesson?”

You frown, concentrating. “Honestly, not very well,” you say. “Why?”

He looks out to the ice, pointing to the entrance corner. “I stayed there the whole time. I was terrified of falling. But you…you were bouncing off the walls. I mean literally, you were colliding with the plexiglass and other skaters and it seemed like every five seconds you were wiping out. But you were so happy to be there that you popped right back up and kept skating. And that’s something I’ve seen in you over and over again, that I really admire. You enjoy doing new things poorly, which makes you happy even when you don’t win.”

You blush. “That is so kind. Thanks.”

Sunghoon looks down at his hand on yours. He slowly interlocks your fingers, then looks you in the eye. “What if I told you,” he says slowly, deliberately, as though simultaneously terrified of how you’ll react and terrified you’ll misunderstand, “that since that first day, I feel our roles have switched?”

“Huh?” You ask.

“I’m not scared of falling anymore,” he clarifies. “Because I fell hard, and it was just as wonderful as you made it look.” He searches your face to see if you understand. “But I think you’re afraid of falling, even now. Even right now.”

You stare at him, trying to figure out what he means — and then he begins to lean in. “What if I asked you to fall with me?” he whispers. “Because I’m already falling, and I’m not scared of it unless I’m falling alone.”

A lightbulb goes on in your head. “Sunghoon,” you say, “are you trying to tell me you fell for me?”

He rolls his eyes. “Obviously,” he says.

You run an agitated hand through your hair, although you haven’t pulled your hand away from him. “Why?”

He smiles, and for the first time you notice how smitten his eyes are when he looks at you. “Well, aside from your undeniable beauty, you are also funny, kind, understanding, mature, and occasionally quite fearless. I admired you when we were children. Now we’re almost adults, and I cannot stop thinking about you. Every day when I wake up, you’re the first person I think of.”

He finally pulls his hand away. “I know this is probably a lot,” he says. “I’ll give you some time.”

But as he stands to walk away, you grab hold of his hand, pulling him back down.

“This isn’t some joke? You actually feel this way?”

He beams. “Of course I do!”

You give his hand a squeeze. “What if I don’t need time? What if I’m still not that scared of falling?”

Sunghoon’s jaw drops. He quickly recovers, though — he grabs the collar of the jacket he gave you and pulls you in for a deep kiss.

When you finally break apart, he holds you in his arms, warming you against the cold air. “Next year, I think we should symbolically go sky-diving. Nothing is a better metaphor for falling for each other. And we’ll both be eighteen!”

You laugh. “Not a chance,” you say, leaning in to give him another kiss.

#sunghoon #enhypen fluff #enhypen imagines #enhypen #sunghoon fluff #sunghoon imagines #ice prince sunghoon

31 notes · View notes

that-fanperson-meg · 8 months

Text

A Golden Afternoon

So before I begin this, I would like to thank @george228732 for the wonderful work that is the Wonderland Au, and since the main series has ended, I decided to write a little thing with Twilight Knight (and a couple other OCs!

Now, lets get into it!

The world was cold, or at least the parts of the world that he could still feel, were cold.

He knew that he’d been shattered- or at least that was the last thing they’d remembered.

They’d watched in silent horror as everyone around him just- disappeared.

It was so loud.

Hundreds of thousands of cries and languishes rang out in a terrible cacophony.

Their antennae amplified all of it. So badly he wished that it would stop, that it would all quiet down and they’d wake up.

That’s what this all was, right? A bad dream.

In just a couple seconds, Ava would be pounding on his door half ready to throw the knight out the window.

A second later, Verin would convince her not to do so, and a minute afterwards, they’d all be out in the garden painting the never ending maze of white roses to red.

…so then why wasn’t that happening?

The terrible noise crescendoed, and began to drive Twilight as mad as the Hatter.

Until suddenly, it all stopped.

However silence proved to be a greater determinant for the fragments of knight’s mind that still remained.

But fortunately, that silence didn’t remain for long and somehow, Twilight felt his body reforming.

Though from what little they knew, that shouldn’t be possible.

And yet, there he was.

———————

Twilight Knight awoke with a jolt, as a thorn of one of the roses made contact with their skin.

They looked around them instinctively, and remembered what he’d been doing before they’d fallen asleep. Now reenergized, the knight took up the tin of red paint that laid beside him and dipped the brush stained with the same hue into the can and began painting the roses red.

As they did this monotonous task, he began to hum a tune to himself.

“Little bread and butterflies kiss the tulips,” they sang.

The knight continued the melody, “And the sun is like a toy balloon,”

“There are get up in the morning glories,”

Twilight smiled from behind his mask as they completed the song, “in the golden afternoon!”

He continued humming the tune, making up words as they went along. And not too long after, he’d fully painted one side of the rose bush red.

In the back of their mind -where his last couple of brain cells remained- they wondered where Verin and Ava had run off to. They did almost everything as a group, and it was rather jarring to the knight to be fully by himself.

Or at least they thought they were alone.

“That’s a very pretty song! Dolly’s never heard anything like it, where’d you learn it from?” A warm and light voice asked as they rounded the corner.

Immediately Twilight Knight’s posture stiffened up like he’d been taught to do so in the presence of the Queen of Hearts.

However, they realized that he was not in the presence of the old Queen, but rather a doll with golden yarn hair and red dress decorated with hearts who’d just recently been dubbed the new Queen of Hearts.

Even with that realization in their mind, the knight still remained motionless -this time out of embarrassment.

“Uh- greetings, my queen! I- um…didn’t know you were out here.”

Dolly smiled like she always did, “yeah! Dolly decided to take a walk through the garden and heard your lovely singing!”

Silence then set in as the knight was stunned by the compliment, it was also at this time that the queen had noticed the bucket of paint and the brush in their hand.

“Sir Twilight, you can stop painting the roses red if you don’t want to! Dolly actually likes the way they look!”

Upon hearing the doll’s words, the knight dropped their brush and set down the can of paint.

“If you say so my lacy- I mean, my lady!” He said, correcting themself like he often did.

Though a moment later, the knight spoke up again. “If I may speak out-a turn for a moment, I actually do like painting the roses! It reminds me of the day I met…” his sentence trailed off.

From behind their mask, an emotion that he often pushed down, surfaced again. The queen somehow noticed this and waited for them to finish his thought.

“Oh-um my green- I mean my Queen! Don’t worry yourself with whatever I was thinking. I assure you I don’t have many thoughts!” Twilight Knight said, trying to play off their mood with a joke.

Though instead of laughing, she simply smiled. “If you have something to say, Dolly wants to hear it! Queen Dolly promised to be the best queen everyone’s ever had, and if listening to you would help, then Dolly wants to listen!”

Twilight Knight sighed, “ok then..! I was gonna say that when I paint the roses, it reminds me of when I met Club- I mean Fylass.” The knight looked on, and for a brief moment, the queen’s face saddened.

“I know this is gonna sound weird- but when I met them, it felt like I knew them from somewhere! And they also knew my name, which was pretty weird too. But when Somnia was going to…” they trailed off once more, his focus landing on one of the rose bushes dripping with red paint.

It took a moment for him to continue, but still the queen listened. “I felt like I’d betrayed them, I wanted so badly to go save them, give my life for theirs- and…I don’t even know why.”

Twilight Knight’s vision blurred, like they were looking through water -which in a way, he was.

He almost didn’t register it, but the queen had laid a hand on their right pauldron in a gesture of support.

“If you like painting, Sir Twilight,” Dolly began, “then come with Dolly! The other knights found some unused canvas the other day and Dolly’s sure we could find some paint!”

The knight smiled and followed the queen back into the castle, where the two spent the rest of the golden afternoon painting together.

Dolly by @ilikesillythingswooo

Ava by @avathestarwarrior

Verin by @the-chaos-axolotl

Wonderland Au and Fylass by @george228732

(mentioned) Somnia by @stardustshimmer

#fylass in wonderland #Kirby oc #kirby original character #twilight knight oc #thanks for reading!

22 notes · View notes

spudangle · 4 months

Text

Blood Apricots

Astarion and Fiona don't know how to communicate and things turn awkward, but maybe it's for the better?

Pairing - Astarion x Fem!Durge (named Fiona, not super descriptive about her appearance, if at all)

Rating - Mature

Warnings - 18+, Sexual content, Fluff, Angst

Word Count - 2,2k

Author's note - Heyy, so this is the first piece of fanfiction that I've ever written. As I said on Ao3, I don't really know what I'm doing, but I wanted to try and write something, because apparently this game just has that much of a hold on me.

Also, any critique would be appreciated, like is my grammar way off, or do I make the characters far too ooc (Astarion in this case).

Anyways thank you for your time!! <3

Ao3

Fiona groaned, a low strained sound escaping her lips.

She was out of breath, her head was throbbing, and her throat felt dry. Had she not already been lying down then surely she would have passed out by now.

She was trying to enjoy the pale elf’s ministrations, she really was, but her body didn’t seem to agree with her wants, all tense, and no pleasure.

Earlier that evening at camp Astarion had proposed that she come to his tent. He had put on his best act too, using all of his best lines just for her. And she, always eager for his attention, had played along. She did, after all, find herself entertained by his sense for the dramatics, though she couldn’t deny that she had been a little hurt by his insincere usage of the sentence, “I love you.” which he had so easily laughed off. But if this was how she could get close to him then so be it.

Gods only knew how badly she wanted to be held by him, to have his approval.

And so, just like their first time together, she had bared her neck to him, assuming that he would just take a quick sip. But this time, much like the first time he had drunk her blood, he had gotten carried away, and so she hadn’t been able to focus on, nor enjoy the physical intimacy that he had offered to her.

Thus, in an attempt at gaining pleasure, Fiona without thinking, had tensed up her body, desperately following Astarion’s lead, focusing so hard on the sex that she had forgotten to relax, causing her heart rate to rise. That mixed with the excessive blood loss had however done little good for the experience.

So now she felt like…well she felt terrible, like shit, probably looked the part too. All she could feel was an aching sensation in her head while her heart hammered away.

“Could we stop?” Fiona breathed as she stopped mimicking the rhythm that Astarion had set.

No response.

His gaze seemed to be miles away.

“Astarion, can we stop?” she tried again this time a little firmer. She put her now clammy hand on his arm trying to coax him out of whatever had taken his attention.

Then finally he looked down at her, “Hm…what…Of course.”

He had lost his composure for just a second, not expecting her to want him to stop, but as always, he was fast to regain it, quickly putting on a sultry smile.

“What’s the matter darling, not enjoying yourself?” he purred at her with an almost sing-song quality to his voice. But as he got a better look at her he paused. Apparently, he hadn’t been able to pick up on her discomfort before now. He really must have been miles away then.

“Hells Fiona you look like…well you look like shit.” he remarked, brows now furrowed together in mild concern, “You’re practically shaking all over. Why didn’t you say anything sooner?”.

Astarion quickly slid himself out of her, lifting his weight off her, allowing her to relax more easily.

He looked utterly miffed as he sat down next to her, brows knitted together with concern, and Fiona didn’t know what to say. She felt bad, embarrassed even. She felt like she had ruined what could have been a perfectly good night, and gods knew that they needed it with everything that was going on around them. She needed it.

But it wasn’t her fault. He was the one who hadn’t been able to control himself while drinking from her, but then again, she hadn’t been able to say stop before just now, and she hadn’t even really wanted to say stop. She didn’t want him to stop touching her. She was so touch starved that she would take anything that he had to offer, and currently that either seemed to be nightly bloodlettings or sex.

Anything to have him cup her face, or stroke her arm, to have him close enough for her to breathe him in, but she could surely not explain that to him. Such thoughts were simply far too fluffy for him to possibly take seriously, if anything he’d just tease her for it, she certainly knew that.

So instead, she just apologized.

“Sorry, I should have said something sooner” Fiona tried, the dryness of her throat making the words sound weaker than she had intended, but perhaps that had worked in her favour as Astarion’s features softened – he almost, almost, looked like he was taking pity on her. She could work with that.

“I just didn’t want to ruin the mood” Fiona continued her eyes wide and pleading, this time trying to take advantage of her sorry state, hoping that it would soften him up further.

“Well, aren't you just considerate? Keeping your miseries all to yourself.” Astarion tutted. He wasn’t buying it, “You certainly managed to do that just fine anyhow.”

Right. He wasn’t going to give in to her.

Fiona sighed, a mixture of frustration and embarrassment as Astarion’s sarcasm sliced right through her feeble attempt at gaining his pity. She knew that she wasn’t going to get much sympathy from him so she might as well save the last bit of her dignity and leave his tent. Besides this sordid headache wasn’t going to take care of itself.

“Sorry. We should probably just call it a night then” Fiona sighed, sitting up reaching for her chemise so that she could regain her last bit of modesty, and leave the situation for good, only for the little blood that she had to rush out of her head. Everything started to spin as though the world was crashing down on her. Black spots began dancing in her vision and she gritted her teeth feeling like her head could split open at any moment. Gods it hurt, and gods she felt stupid. Probably looked stupid too. Astarion was probably not going to get anywhere near her after this. The thought only made her all the more desperate to get out of there, but she couldn’t see for the spots, and she couldn’t find her chemise, and she was starting to panic, causing her to become short of breath which only made her panic more. “Shit shit shit.” she muttered under her breath as she fumbled around. This was pathetic.

And she truly must have been a sorry sight, for the next moment she felt Astarion’s cold hands on her shoulders, pushing her to lie back down on the bedroll, “Don’t be silly now dear, I was only teasing.” he began as he handed her her chemise, “I’m obviously not going to let you stumble around out there. Besides, you'd probably just trip and bash that pretty head of yours before you even reach your bedroll, and then where would we be?”

He still sounded somewhat displeased, but Fiona sensed something softer to his tone now. So maybe he was concerned for her after all?

“I’m sorry. I probably seem like such a fool.” Fiona sighed, her voice a little shaky. At this point she just felt like crying, but she had already put on enough of a show, so she did her best to avoid Astarion’s ever-analysing stare as to not let him set her over the edge.

“Well yes, you certainly do,” Astarion laughed, then huffing as if not sure about whether he should continue, “but I do find that rather charming about you, you know.” he finally said, his voice now soft without a hint of sarcasm.

“That I’m a fool?” Fiona said, not sure that she understood what could be so charming about that.

“No,” Astarion laughed, “but you’re so responsive. I can so easily tease you. It’s endearing.” Fiona felt his cold hand swiping a stray hair away from her face urging her to finally look up at him, “However I shouldn’t have teased you just now…” Astarion trailed off.

It was a tender face that she was met by. Red eyes looking at her, not through her, not looking at her like they wanted something from her. For the first time she felt seen by him. So this was what a genuine compliment from the vampire sounded like. She felt like she could get drunk on his words, just from the soft tone alone. He found her endearing. She was endearing.

“Besides,” Astarion continued, shifting his gaze away from her, brows furrowing slightly as though he realized that he had been vulnerable, “were it not for me you wouldn’t be in such a sorry state to begin with, so I’d be a poor bed mate to let you go out like that.”

It was barely an apology, but Fiona still appreciated it, and she was far too dizzy to tease him for it anyhow, so she just smiled weakly up at him.

But her silent appreciation didn’t seem to please him as he looked back at her with an air of mild impatience if not annoyance, she couldn’t quite tell, but the silence was seemingly too intimate for him as he shifted uncomfortably before clearing his throat, “Right well can I get you anything?” he asked.

Now feeling more composed, Fiona carefully sat up again so that she could slip her chemise back on, the cool fabric soothing her clammy skin. The world had finally stopped spinning, but her throat was still dry and her head still throbbing. “Some water would be nice.” she said sweetly, still smiling at him.

“Right then.”

With practiced ease Astarion swiftly put on his briefs and trousers before making his way out of the tent, leaving Fiona to herself, and as the tent flap closed she laid back down, doing her best to relax on the bedroll.

Perhaps the situation hadn’t been so terrible after all. Of course, she could have done without the awkward sex and the splitting headache. But, Astarion cared, in some way at least. He had shown that exact softness which Fiona so desperately yearned for, but that she so rarely got to witness from him.

She wondered what it was about her that made him care, what it was about her that had made him approach her in the first place. In fact, at first she had thought that he disliked her, with him constantly criticizing her for being too nice, criticizing her for constantly stopping to help other ‘ragtags’, claiming that it would only slow them down. And yet he had still approached her during the party with the tieflings, inviting her to have sex with him. But why? What did he see in her? Besides the fact that he found her endearing, what about her attracted him? Had her ‘niceness’ somehow still managed to captivate him? Well, she certainly wasn’t going to stop being nice, that was for sure. Being good was the only thing she could do to make up for those vile, disgusting, sadistic thoughts that haunted her mind.

No.

No, she would not think of that. Not tonight. Not when she had been doing so well for the last couple of days.

Fiona took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. This was why she preferred not thinking when she was by herself, even if it was just for a moment. It didn’t do her any good.

Even though he had only been away for a moment, Fiona was relieved when Astarion finally returned to the tent again.

With him he brought a waterskin as well as a small pouch, both of which he handed to her, “This should suffice.” he quipped as he settled down next to her.

“Thank you” Fionna murmured softly propping herself up before taking a sip of water, the cool liquid instantly soothing her throat. Curious about the extra item that he had brought for her, she opened the pouch.

Dried apricots?

Why had he brought apricots for her? She wasn't particularly hungry, quite the opposite if she had to be honest, her current condition doing little for her appetite.

Her befuddlement must have been apparent on her face because Astarion promptly explained “Sugar is good for the blood darling. It will help alleviate your headache.”

“Oh” Fiona muttered, slightly taken aback by the unexpected thoughtfulness behind the fruit. She took a piece of apricot to nibble on. It was sweet and tart, the flavour bringing warmth to her cheeks – or perhaps it was the gesture behind the fruit. Nonetheless she took another one.

This was nice. Being in the presence of Astarion in comfortable silence and enjoying something as simple as fruit. He also didn’t seem to mind the silence now, contently watching her as she ate. And there it was again, that look in his eyes again, like he was seeing her.

“Feeling better?” he asked.

“Mhm” Fiona hummed as she used the back of her hand to wipe the last bit of sweetness from her lips.

“Then I suggest that you get some rest.” Astarion said, urging her to lie down.

Fiona settled down on the bedroll making herself comfortable with a blanket. She looked up at him for a bit, feeling happy and content in his presence. Tonight, she had realized that there was something more to the sharp-tongued elf than his usual sarcastic demeanour, something that he wasn’t eager to let out, but he had shown to her anyways.

She enjoyed the joking, the sarcasm, and the sex, of course she did, but maybe their relationship could be more than those things.

She wasn’t quite sure yet, having no knowledge of what a relationship based on attraction was supposed to look like, as she had no memories to pull such knowledge from.

But this…this could be nice.

#my own personal trash #text #fanfiction #Astarion #Tav #Durge #Dark Urge #Astarion x tav #Astarion x Durge #Astarion x Dark Urge #Baldur's Gate 3 #BG3 #already posted this on Ao3 back in October #but ive been real slow about setting up this blog #so im first posting it here now #my writing

7 notes · View notes

moibakadesu · 1 year

Text

Hi all, I have some Milgram observations to bring in the table.

Thos came to my mind in light of Muu's second MV release and there being a new increase of people being very ... "oh no, how can you mischaracterize a character so much, bohoo" going around.

This is absolutely not only a thing that applies to Muu, but it became especially apparent again, because opinions there seem to be quite heated.

So what we want to take a look at here is:

The inability of people to read tone of voice

That first sounds a little mean, but I don't mean it that way at all. Reading a person's tone correctly can be a problem for a lot of people, especially people who are on the autism spectrum and similar. So it's not uncommon at all. So it comes at no surprise that this highly influences how some people might read a character and that it comes to differences in opinion.

I will use Muu here as the prime example, because she has A LOT of emotion to her words, which makes it easy to showcase. First, we have to start with my stance on Muu though. In the beginning I had her coined as a character I might quite like, but once I got to listen to her first VD my suspicions began to rise already. And at this point I can say Muu is a character I very much dislike, because all my suspicions just got proven right with each new relevation that happened.

So what threw me off in her first VD that gave me a hint that she might be not just "the poor pitiful bullied girl"? It was the threat towards the end towards Es. The "I won't forgive you if you don't vote me innocent."

People also like to consider it a bad take when I claim that Muu is very clearly lacking in remorse and compassion/empathy. But I think it's very obvious? The WAY she is speaking is not like a traumatized teen, she is not weaseling her way out of the blame as a defense mechanism, she just ... simply does not see anything wrong with her actions. Let's take a look at another voice line for that, from the t1 voice trailer, her distorted voiceline. "It's their fault for doing terrible things to me first." Along with a little giggle and said pretty cheerfully for such a statement. Well, by now we know that this is not only a lie, with Muu having been a bully first before she got a taste of her own medicine, but also it always seemed very not genuine even without that context. Muu sees nothing wrong with murdering her victim at all, that is her belief. And if Rei (yay, we finally got a name for her yesterday) really just stood up against Muu and exposed her for her bullying ... well, I'll just say, that is already a good reason to dislike Muu a fair bit.

Even more of "tone of voice speaking volumes" we have in INMF. So much indeed. The song is very much Muu showing her true colors to us, now the she got affirmed, she is not demonizing herself, that is how she is and she is not afraid anymore to show it. There is a lot of high and mighty in the way she is saying/singing things here, very good examples being the "You know the consequences, right?" parts, but also just overall. The way that she likes to present herself as whiny with fake-crying behaviour to garner pity from people is also very apparent here, with what got translated as these drama queen lines ... a bit free form, but it actually hits the tone well. Best example is the line right after we see her stabbing Rei, where she just absolutely sounds like a whining child.

I could also go into a lot more with her second VD and how it showcases perfectly does she does not care about people as people, but as convenient tools, but for that I would have to go into a lot more detail than just the tone she is saying things in, and that's not the plan here right now.

Fuuta is another one who got hit with the whole problem. When people started to claim that he is not feeling sorry, I was just like "did you not hear his terror and panic in Backdraft and ESP in his second VD??" The man is absoluty terrified about how his actions got so out of hand, of course he is feeling remorse.

There are more fine nuances here, and I could ramble on some more, but I think I got the core point across.

And no, this is not meant as a Muu hate post or anything, it's just my opinion and observation. And before anyone claims that: no, this is not about Haruka either, his involvement might add some fuel to the fire for me, but you could completely take him out of the equation and I would still dislike Muu for all the same reasons.

#milgram #milgram project #muu kusunoki #kusunoki muu #fuuta kajiyama #kajiyama fuuta #just and observation #no hate here people I mean it #how the hell do I do the read more on mobile #going to fix this at home #sorry for the long post in the meantime

21 notes · View notes

giggly-squiggily · 2 years

Note

Omg omg squiggly has writings open it’s tiME TO ZOOM-

I think that Tanjiro likes to sing, despite being canonically tone deaf. And Zenitsu, being a super accurate singer, likes to try and correct him all the time.

I’m gonna say non-tickles for this one!

I am so excited to see how you continue this on. 😭

Please take your time with this!! I love you!!

Stay hydrated and happy :)

~~Send Me A Headcanon and I’ll write a dabble for it! ~~

DUCKY! Your so sweet, thank you🥰 This was such a fun prompt! NGL, I'm a Tanjiro IRL, completely tone deaf yet utterly shameless when singing along to my favorite songs rjelkarjeajkkjra

I love prompts like this, and I got to reference this for the dabble! (It's such a pretty cover of "Runaway" I highly recommend it!) I hope you like it! :D Remember to stay hydrated and happy aswell! :3

“And I was running far all day, will I write on the the world someday~” Tanjiro sang happily as he folded clothes, sorting through bed sheets and making a neat stack beside him. “Nobody knows, nobody knows and,”

Zenitsu tried. He smiled. He nodded along. He hummed along even with Tanjiro’s terrible singing. It wasn’t even that part that bothered him. No, it was-

“I was fighting in the rain, getting wet but I can’t complain-”

“Tanjiro!” Zenitsu finally had enough, dropping the sheet he was working on to glare at the other. “If you're going to sing, please get the words right at least!”

Tanjiro was mid-song, posed with the sheet in the air and mouth open to carry on. “Oh, those aren’t the lyrics?” He blinked, laughing sheepishly as the blonde shook his head. “Sorry- it’s such a catchy tune; the lyrics get mixed up in my brain.”

“You're fine, Tanjiro. I like your version.” Shinobu smiled from her spot nearby, her own stack of laundry just as neat. “Though I will say- I believe that’s the third time you’ve corrected him, Zenitsu. You must be quite the music critique.”

“I wouldn’t say that- just…look. If you want to sing, sing. I’m all for that.” Zenitsu nodded, even when he cringed at the idea of Tanjiro’s cracking voice. “But the lyrics…the song goes like this. ‘And I was running far away, would I run off the world someday, nobody knows, nobody knows, and~...You see what I mean?”

Tanjiro was staring at him. As was Shinobu. “Erm…what?”

“Keep going.” Tanjiro told him. “Sing more.”

Zenitsu blinked. “Erm…okay?” Feeling alittle self conscious, he started again. “And I was running far away, would I run off the world someday, nobody knows, nobody knows and~”

He felt bolder now, losing himself in the song as he closed his eyes. “I was dancing in the rain, I felt alive and I can’t complain, but no take me home, take me where I belong, I can’t take it anymore.”

When he opened his eyes, the room was full. Nezuko and Inosuke were by the door, watching him. Shinobu had dropped her sheet with a hand on her chest, a soft smile on her lips. Aoi and the others were standing nearby, clearly intrigued.

And Tanjiro…

“Wow…” He breathed, the sound sending a wave of chills across Zenitsu’s skin. “You should sing more often. It’s really pretty.”

The blonde cleared his throat, suddenly aware of how warm his face felt as he picked up his discarded sheet. “R-Right. But yeah, that’s how the song goes.”

Tanjiro proceeded to butcher the song the rest of the afternoon.

I hope this was good!

#headcanons to dabbles #demon slayer #zenitsu agatsuma #tanjiro kamado #non tickle #dabble #singing #I love the idea of Singer!Zenitsu #It goes well with the instrument he can play in season 2 #implied Zenitsu x Tanjiro at the end?#Can be taken in a platonic sense too!

20 notes · View notes

restless-witch · 2 years

Text

varieties of exile - indulgent geraskier in drabbles - pt 2

Witcher 3 + Netflix / This part is rated G / Incomplete

The first time he had the dream, somewhere before the road to find Cirilla, he didn't think much of it.

He knows it’s a dream from the start because everything’s just a little too ideal. His soft memories always have a fond edge to the problems of reality- the snap of a chill in the air or weary relief to a smile.��

Jaskier’s there, playing a song Geralt doesn’t remember, it's a strange one: soft and vulnerable and mature.

It’s after the third or fifth or twentieth repetition that he starts to wonder where the dream comes from. It's recurring, though not terribly often. Wonders if it’s some kind of illusion sent to confuse him: the work of a Doppler and a mage perfectly designed to lull him into a deeper rest, to distract him from reaching his child surprise. He tries to free himself from the dream for a while after that, before he realizes it’s not the work of a Doppler at least. The Jaskier in his dream isn’t a copy- the perfect replica of a person. It's not that any of it is wrong, but the Jaskier he sees isn't the real Jaskier.

After a while, he realizes the Jaskier in his dream is Jaskier’s favorite parts of himself and their journeys. His lute is the tawny color he fancied when it was re-lacquered a decade ago (no luther had been able to match that color since). His sleeves are rolled up higher than usual, displaying evenly colored forearms free from pox scars. Jaskier’s face is framed by the softest loose curls that only formed when there was ocean in the air.

They’re walking along an impossible road, swells of rolling hills bereft of the dots of civilization or sprawling wilderness, though Geralt would place it in Redania. The full richness of spring in the air- the perfectly temperate breeze carrying the heady scent of pollen in the air mixed with the sweet fragrance of nearly-autumn pear. He’s on Roach, her withers gleaming brightly as they do when she’s had a thorough brushing, and eating a black walnut. The treat doesn’t even stain his fingers- though he can feel the juices running down his palm to his miraculously dry and unblemished shirt cuffs.

Sometimes he has the presence of mind to look around more; absently noting where the sun is in the arc of the sky and the planets that are mere specks in the daylight, turning the fruit over in his hand to see the spotted flesh, relishing the perfect lack of thirst or hunger.

He starts to welcome the dreams: he’s always well rested after them. After the mountain- he craves this borrowed time with Jaskier. Stolen, really. He never should have stolen so much of Jaskier's fleeting time on earth, but the dream can't hurt Jaskier more than Geralt already has.

He takes time to relish all the details he didn’t notice before- the way Jaskier’s voice is intimate and echoing, the perfect acoustics that only existed in Oxenfurt’s graduate halls somehow manifesting in the rolling pastoral landscape. The routine is always the same even if he has a measure of control over the minor details; the dream eases around him like a dip in the springs and he hears Jaskier’s tuning carefully morph into the opening chords of the song.

If he teases Jaskier about a flat note, the bard will stick his tongue out and grouse about “literal superhuman hearing” before he starts to croon into the open air. If he slows Roach’s pace; Jaskier will continue on ahead, walking backwards after a few steps so Geralt can see the lightly teasing roll of his hips and the lopsided smile overtaking Jaskier’s face.

He tries, a few times, to dismount and tell Jaskier to cool off in the stream with him- hoping he can somehow stretch out the escape from waking reality- but the bard walks on and sings as though Geralt hadn't said a word. Merely croons, as always:

Every word sounds like a siren Into the town, breaking the silence It's a good life, wait and it's over Everywhere, ever, oh

We never would have in mind Here for next time

If there was doubt It's getting colder In a new light I'd turn it over I can't decide If there's another Hand on your fate, never

We never would had mind Here for next time We never would had mind Here for next time

A/N- Thank you all for the kind things you’ve said and tagged! They really made me want to write and I really really appreciate the encouragement! (so keep it up if you’d like more ;) )

I didn’t expect y’all to actually like this so heads up: I did put it on ao3 here but looser drafts are going to find their way on tumblr first so like bits and bobs that aren’t always ready to be a chapter will be shared here. I’ve got a bit written out that’s already cross posted, but tumblr is where unedited things will probably appear first

On my blog the chapters/drabbles will be tagged “actual fic varieties of exile” because the tag “varieties of exile” already has inspo stuff in it too

Thanks for reading, friends!

#geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #gerlion #gaskier #geralt x jaskier #fanfic #fan fic #actual fic varieties of exile #varieties of exile #geralt #the witch writes

6 notes · View notes

dreamyfanfix · 2 years

Text

Chapter 2: Compromising

Previously on the Bachelor. The contestants were introduced to this season's eligible bachelor and it was none other than Genevieve who won the first rose, for her outstanding first impression [insert Genevieve intro scene]. Sienna and Maria Rosso stunned Anthony with their vocal talents and the cousins were able to win the second and third roses of the night [insert Sienna & Maria Rosso singing and receiving roses]. But unfortunately, it was not a spark at first sight for eight contestants and they were sent home [insert upset and crying contestants].

Today, the girls are tasked with putting on a play. The girls have separated into two teams of eleven and have to shine in their respective roles to win the attention of the Bachelor. The prize? A chance at this season's first one-on-one dates and a shot at getting not just a rose at the end of the night. [insert scene of Anthony telling a contestant he finds them intriguging].

But don't worry dears, Lady Whistledown will be watching.

Kate was having a pretty good morning. Unlike Sophie and Ben, Kate hadn't lost a contestant during the first episode, so it was a success. Kate cringed a bit at suggesting that maybe one of her contestants, Sienna, start showing off her vocal ability especially when her cousin thought it a perfect time to join in. Luckily Sienna is ever the professional and took it all in stride. Ben had lost three of his contestants and was shocked when Anthony seemed even turned off by some of his contestants that had stayed. The person who lost the most contestants was poor Sophie five contestants meant the poor new girl had only half her contestants left to chaperone. Kate told her though that it does get easier the fewer contestants you have because then you can be a bit more precise with your advice. Sophie seemed not as affected by the first rose ceremony as Benedict and she seemed in pretty hopeful spirits this morning.

"Wow, Pen that was nicely written," Sophie said. "Thanks although it would be nice if the Julie Andrews impersonator would stick to the script," Pen responded walking away from the monitor. "Ahh Sarah giving you a hard time again?" Kate asked. "Yep, I am trying so hard not to hate her," Pen said with her hands making a strangling motion and Kate chuckled. "Is it such a big deal?" Sophie asked quietly. "Yes!" Pen continued "She dips and out of formal tone, it makes the writing seem sloppy. I want to be a screenplay writer, I want to write Pride and Prejudice level romances and for that to happen I need evidence of how good I am as a writer. She's butchering my work," Kate sipped her chai in one hand and used her other to rub circles along Pen's back as she knew it relaxed her "It's not that bad Pen. Didn't Colin say that he would put in a good word for you with that producer friend of his?" Kate wasn't sure what she said but it must have upset Pen because Kate could immediately feel Pen's back stiffen at the mention of Colin and got up to leave. Kate hesitated because she hated cold tea but put her cup down and went after Pen. "Pen! Pen! Come on talk to me. What did I say?" Pen stopped walking when she made it outside her office door and said "You didn't say anything bad. It's just Colin…" "What about him?" Kate asked. "Colin has zero plans to help me," Pen said in a quiet voice. Kate wanted to ask why but she knew that Pen just a needed a breathe so she waited and Pen continued "Colin is busy chasing after my cousin Marina to be concerned about helping me," "Marina? After all that happened? How do you know this Pen?" Kate asked. Pen sniffed "He said as much at last season's wrap party. He was talking with his friends about me and one of them was the producer, Blake Jeffords. He laughed at the idea of being with me and thought the work we do on the show was terrible. He only became a producer to meet women, like Ben, and then he said he finally met the woman he wanted and he would do anything to keep her," Kate winced, she knew about Pen's feelings for Colin "I'm guessing this is Marina he is talking about?" Kate asked. "Yeah," Pen said staring sadly "The worst part is that I turned down a job with Eloise cause Colin told me he would whisk me away from this place and I believed him. El hates me now because it seems like I picked Colin over her and don't have a leg to stand on because she's right," "No she's not," Kater interjected. "Yeah, she is," "No. She's not. Look Pen, Eloise won't understand what you are experiencing, what I have been experiencing my whole life. Earning your way in this world. Eloise and her volunteer feminists are all rich girls with trust funds who can afford to spend all day, on their blog, raging against the machine that is their families and then turns around and party in their family estates," Kate felt bad about talking like that about Eloise but it was true, Penelope worked hard on the show for years but it wasn't until the second year working on the show did Kate find out about how Pen was estranged from her family, for many many reasons but the main of which involved Pen recovering from an eating disorder brought about by her mother and countless family members' comments over the years. Penelope Featherington packed up her belongings one day and left the cushy life she knew because she would rather have mental peace than money and honestly Kate respected her so much for it. "I need the money and after Colin said what he said I just can't help but wonder if I am going to be stuck here forever," Pen said with a sigh. "Penelope. You are too young to give up on your dreams. If you really want to do this then I will help. Just say the word," "Thanks, Kate. Talking to you helped," Pen paused and Kate could see the young girl swallowing her tears and continued "It feels nice to have someone to talk to," Kate got emotional and embraced the young girl and then left to go get her, probably cold now, tea while Pen entered her office for a nap.

Colin Bridgerton was such an oddity in Kate's life. When she met him he was standing outside her dorm playing music for the girl who had dumped him. He was quite a romantic although a bit naive. Colin did not seem like his brothers despite his words, he seemed more interested in wooing and courting a woman than conquering but uni was a weird place to be acting like an '80s rom-com but Kate found herself endeared to the man despite herself. When Kate was in desperate need to get a job after her father's death, Colin recommended her to Elle Danbury and Kate was so thankful for him. Colin, Benedict and her worked as the three producers for the first two years she was here and then Colin quit before the third year.

It turns out Colin was dating Marina in secret the entire third year, when news of their relationship broke out, the world was ablaze. Many commended Colin for being so 'progressive' in dating Marina (insert eye-roll) and others loved the Cinderella-like story. In fact, the frenzy is what gave Kate the idea for her contestant picks this season. What Kate didn't know but Pen did, was that Marina had a fiance waiting for her at home. Marina wanted to use the fame and connections provided by being near the Bridgertons to amass her following and cultivate a brand. The girl was ambitious Kate could give her that but when it was leaked about her secret fiance, Marina's reputation was in shambles. Turns out the leaker was Penelope. Kate was shocked. Pen got reprimanded but at the end of the day, it truly did not hurt the show's reputation at all so it didn't mean anything.

That being said her followers still went up because Marina was still beautiful and even Kate could admit that Marina was taking advantage of a system that was taking advantage of her. Marina's grandfather was shunned from proper society ages ago when he married a Black woman who had sought asylum during Apartheid in South Africa. This was obviously before people in the peerage started to pretend to be open to modern ideologies like interracial marriage and queerness. It meant that not only was Marina and her family distant but there was no love from Marina when the Featheringtons finally welcomed them back.

'It was a different time' people said but Kate knew from interacting with nobility enough that style and laws may have changed but people with power and money often don't need to. When Simon Hastings was the Bachelor, Marina appeared on the show, she slowly became a crowd favourite and in the final episodes had a breakdown about her family history, see Marina came on the show as Marina Featherington but after spilling her guts she wanted to be known as a Thompson. Marina's social media follows skyrocketed with people condemning the Featheringtons and praising Marina for being so strong to stand up to her family. Kate felt for the girl but it was then that she figured out that the 'breakdown' was staged. Of course, the story was true but Marina only did so to give -herself a leg up in the show and it worked.

Social media was of course then in outrage when Marina was eliminated in the next rose ceremony for many reasons but mostly because Marina opened up about something to be considered so personal but also because she was the only woman of colour in the top 10 and many people hoped that with a Black Bachelor they could finally see a woman of colour make it far in the contest. Kate knew that men like Simon had a type and it generally wasn't their own women but in this case, Simon thought Marina's confession was genuine emotion and meant she was feeling something for him and he freaked out because Simon Hastings had no interest in taking any of the relationships he had with the contestants serious and he was just here for a good time.

Kate knew Colin was naive but if he truly was dumb enough to be chasing after Marina, despite all the messiness that went down last year then Kate could only feel bad for Pen.

Kate was still on her way back to get her tea when she could feel someone behind so she turned around. Anthony was standing and scowling at her. "Why are you looking at me like that?" She asked him. "I heard you talking with Pen about Eloise and I don't like the way you spoke about her," Anthony said marching towards her angrily. "Well, that was a private conversation you should not have been listening to," Kate said a bit annoyed. "It doesn't matter if I should not have heard it. You should not have said those things," Anthony said louder and Kate looked around to see if anyone was around, it seemed that it was still too early in the day for people to be working. "As much as I am sorry for you to have heard it. It's not like what I said wasn't true," Kate shrugged. "Eloise is genuine and means well and trust me when I say that her feminist ideologies mean a lot to her," "I know she means well but…" Kate sighed "Oh come on Anthony even you can admit that she comes across a tad bit condescending," Anthony crossed his arms and Kate could not help but divert her eyes to his muscular arms for a second "So would it be better if she did not champion her causes?" "Why is it that every time someone questions a white ally they threaten us with their apathy?" Kate asked and then spoke again before he could answer "You know what? Don't answer that. Instead, tell your little sister that if she wants to have a conversation about racist and misogynistic power structures with those less fortunate than her, she might want to check her billionaire privilege at the door," Kate gestured to the left of her and had taken steps closer and closer to Anthony and now there was barely any space between them. "You know you are not so different from Eloise," Anthony said with a smug smile. "Excuse me?" "You stomp around vomiting your beliefs and judgements on everyone and yet I am to believe my sister is the only one who needs to be less smug?" Anthony asked with a raised eyebrow. Kate did not like how heated the action made her feel. Kate rarely had a debate this thrilling as most men did not like her verbal combative nature "If I'm smug then so are you," Kate declared pointing at him. "Oh so mature," Anthony said closing the gap between them with one step, Kate could feel his breath on her face now. "Yes I am mature and so are you. How old are you again? Chasing after 20-year-olds on national television looks exactly like a mature move, DiCaprio," Anthony looked taken back her words and Kate felt victorious but then Anthony looked at her with his almost molten eyes. He almost looked lustful and Kate felt herself get a little turned on at the thought. "Maybe, you're just mad because you're not one of them," Anthony said with a raised eyebrow, the heat-filled look still in his eyes. "No. I'm just mad at the idea that women can truly be fooled by a pretty face, some money and nothing else," "So you think I'm pretty?" Anthony asked, his smug smile had returned. "I think the opinion you have of yourself is way too high," "You didn't answer my question though? Do you think I'm pretty? You know what? Scratch that," Anthony leaned in and whispered, "Do you want to know what it is like to be one of the women who succumb to my charms?" Kate could feel the vibrations of Anthony's voice and his breath on her cheek and Kate had to steady herself by grabbing his arm. It was then that she heard someone clear their throat. They both turned to see who had been watching their heated exchange and simultaneously exclaimed "Daphne?"

Kate was mortified. Not only was she caught in a compromising position with the Bachelor of the season but she was caught by Daphne, Anthony's sister.

Usually, Kate was not such a prude about being caught in public showing PDA but any form of sexual activity with the contestants and Bachelors/Bachelorettes is forbidden. It was probably why Colin quit the show after meeting Marina, come to think of it. The problem with the producers getting into these kinds of relationships comes down to it being a bit of a power-dynamic mess. Producers can make or break a contestant's chances on the show and the Bachelors/Bachelorettes need to be focused on the contestants, not the producers.

The real problem was that this was not the first time Kate had been caught in a similar 'compromising' situation. In fact, it was the reason why Thomas Dorset, who was heavily favoured by Philippa, was surprisingly placed second last season.

#the unreal viscount

3 notes · View notes

queen-of-writing-bad-things · 2 months

Text

Henry Danger Reader Insert | Captain Man x Reader: SEASON 5

Episode 21: Henry Danger The Musical Part 1

~ Henry's house~

The sun rose over Swellview, as it did every day, and for Henry Hart, as he slept soundly in his bed, nothing was wrong in the world. He was warm, safe, and snuggled under his bedsheets like nearly every kid in the city on a Saturday morning - silently content that a day of no school meant no work, no responsibilities and, best of all, no alarms.

Ring.

But, of course, Henry wasn't like most kids, and his Saturdays were never so simple.

His eyes opened slowly and groggily, his sluggish mind clocking that the rude, annoying intrusion on his slumber was his phone. Not one to leave whoever hanging, the kid slid a hand out from under the covers and reached for the vibrating device, vaguely aware that there seemed to be a faint tune playing in the back of his mind.

"What?" he answered with a yawn, forgoing the need to be polite since only Charlotte was ruining his perfect lie-in--only for an excellent reason.

"Henry, you gotta get over here!" she sang at him in an elegant tone that made her friend on the line freeze. Wait, singing? Charlotte never sang, not to him or anyone, and certainly not on the phone at this ungodly hour. Was he still dreaming?

"Why are you singing?--Why am I singing?!" he asked, only to realise that he responded in the same musical rhythm, no matter how much his brain said no. Now that he sat upright and thought about it, the music that had hummed in the back of his mind was thumping in his ears and forcing him to sing along even though he didn't want to.

"Just brush your teeth and get over here!"

"Can you smell my breath through the phone?" the boy grew pale at her instructions, not thinking clearly since he was thinking about a million different things all at once, which all involved his surprisingly good voice.

"What?! No, listen! Someone put a musical curse over this town!" Charlotte told him, stressing every syllable as she sang, and her words caused Henry to frown. Could someone do that? And why?

"Really?"

"Really!" She insisted, causing him to panic about what kind of sicko they were facing here. His thoughts went to everyone else in town; his family, school friends, his work friends, Ray, (y/n), Schwoz, Jasper--were they okay? He didn't know about anybody else, but the woman hated singing in front of others, probably because it brought so much attention; although, according to her fiancée, she wasn't half bad in the shower - an angel, even if he always said that.

"Has it infected everybody else?" the kid asked, his sidekick instincts shining through as his body banished its want for more sleep in favour of duty.

"Go downstairs and see for yourself!" The girl advised him, unable to stop herself from using a high note on the last word as she swept her hand upwards in a particularly musical way. God, this singing stuff was both embarrassing and exhausting.

But she wasn't wrong; the entire Hart household was in chaos and confusion, thanks to the musical curse, and Henry rushed out of bed to get dressed and see the damage. Downstairs, his family prepared for the day as they always did, although all became stunned when the voodoo shit started, turning what was a typical morning into a sing-along.

"Something's going on!" Mrs Hart sang as she waltzed across her home, helpless to stop her feet from skipping across the carpet like she was on stage. And it wasn't just her.

"There's a musical curse over Swellview!" Piper told her mother worriedly, not because she thought she sounded terrible. Oh no, Piper was renowned for being the perfect songstress, but the fact that no one could stop made her face creased with concern.

"I'm stuck in a song!" Mr Hart announced in a deep baritone as he burst through the door with an equally perturbed expression. He'd nipped out of the house on some errands, only to find himself belting out a ballad on how much he hated getting stuck in traffic, making him freak out and return instantly.

"There's a musical curse over Swellview!" His wife and daughter sang together in harmony, looking longingly off to the side as if searching for the few people they knew could help them. Or perhaps as if they were performing for an audience.

"Captain Man, Miss Danger, can you hear us?" They begged together as they circled the couch with their hands raised in panic, hoping the superheroes could hear them before their throats became sore or they collapsed from exhaustion.

"I'm doing this against my will!"

"Yeah! There's a musical curse over Swellview!" Mrs Hart chirped at Mr Hart as he ungraciously plodded around to the beat in their heads. It was never-ending and headache-inducing, but they couldn't stop performing for the furniture.

"This is so not chill!"

"There's a musical curse over Swellview! Hey, Kid Danger, did you hear us?" They chorused as Henry trotted down the stairs with a horrified expression.

Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined seeing his family strut and pose as if they were part of a West End show, but it was happening right before him. He knew he needed to get to the Man Cave as soon as possible so he and his friends could figure something out, but that meant he'd have to get out without them noticing.

But unfortunately, as he grabbed the door handle, they turned around as part of the spontaneous choreography and spotted him.

"Henry, where are you going?" Mrs Hart questioned her son in a less sing-songy way, but there was still a chirpy, overly enthusiastic tone, which could only be found in a musical, and it caused the boy to freeze as he inched the door open.

"I hate to be a jerk, but I gotta go to work. You know, sell the junk and the stuff," he excused himself, throwing a thumb over his shoulder as if his leaving during a crisis was no big deal. Oh yeah, like he could work in the store whilst serenading customers; that would convince them.

"But, Henry, haven't you heard? We're singin' every word!" "Like this!" Mr Hart belted out, waving his hands manically like his wife as he stretched his vocal cords far out of their comfort zone. And it wasn't like Henry didn't want to help; he honestly did, but he couldn't tell them that he had to leave to do so. Therefore, he could only push away their terrified faces and firmly carry on.

"It's totally out of our control!"

"Sorry, fam, I gotta ro-oll!" he winced as his voice climbed higher and higher until there was a fundamental change, much to his parents and sisters' distress. The signing was getting out of control, especially as Henry closed the door firmly behind him, and the news flickered on to show that no one, not even those on television, was safe from the curse.

"In case you're just tuning in, there's a musical curse over Swellview!" Trent Overunder said to the people at home, all of whom were horrified to see the news anchors squirm under the pressure of being on TV and singing in a double performance.

"My middle name is Debbie!" Mary added, her usual random and quirky style unaffected by the overwhelming urge to sing, even if it wasn't the time or place, given the gravity of the situation in the city.

"Dear God, Mary--There's a musical curse over Swellview!"

"Mary Debbie Gaperman!" Trent tried to carry on as usual, but it was challenging when his cohost kept singing her middle name over him, and it was only when the camera panned out that the news' true message got out.

"Captain Man, Miss Danger, can you and the Kid save us?" The entire production team begged into the camera as they squeezed into the shot, from the camera operators to the sound guy to an on-location reporter. The city's greatest crimefighters were needed more than ever, and all they could do was hope they were listening as they moved on to the following lyric that appeared in their heads.

"In other news, a Swellview woman is pregnant, but not with what you'd expect..." Trent started the next story, trying to retain as much professionalism as possible despite the novel situation, but suddenly, the screen glitched. To everyone's shock, the broadcast was hijacked and in its place was a live stream from the formerly hottest spot in town - The Frakini Klub. Wait...

"We interrupt this program for...me!" And low and behold, the man himself appeared on the screen - Frankini - looking as much of an over-groomed poodle as he ever did, only this time, he had a mischievously victorious glint in his eye. What had he done this time?

"Citizens of Swellview, it is I, Frankini the Grand!" he sang, looking much happier than everyone else in the city to be singing along to more upbeat, rave-type music as he shimmied around his lair. In the Man Cave, Schwoz, Charlotte and Jasper crowded around (y/n) as she watched the saturated video with a stormy expression, temper flaring at the thought of him being the culprit.

"In case you didn't notice, there's a musical curse o'er the land! My bad or good? 'Cause, this is the way that it should be!" the villain cried joyfully as he scampered to retrieve a hideously vibrant, scarlet fur gilet. Henry watched, too, on his phone as he screwed his nose up at the overuse of hearts and sparkles on the screen and the deluded man twirling around.

"I have control of all of your speakers, and I'm blasting a special low frequency!" Frankini explained as he danced to the music of his own creation, but he didn't mind that. To him, life should be one big, happy musical and rather than seeing his heinous actions as a crime, he thought he'd done everyone an excellent service.

"And now, Swellview is perfect--musically extra perfect! Just like meeeee!" he spun round and round in glittery boots as he sang his little black heart out, loving every second since his plan had gone off without a hitch. He loved the singing, dancing, drama, acting, costumes, and fame that came from musicals; if he loved it, everyone else had to.

"Ta-ta for now!" he grinned one last time at the camera as his twirling ended. With a final wiggle of his fingers to his "adoring" fans, he sank out of sight, leaving everyone watching with a heavy feeling sitting in their stomachs.

"Oh no!" Swellview harmonised together, every citizen feeling the same dread as Frankini's broadcast ended, leaving them in grave danger. Well, when I say every citizen, there was one who never knew what was going on, as was his doofy way.

"Sweet girl, you weren't in bed. What did I miss?" Ray asked as he appeared from the sprocket with a puzzled face, ruffled hair, and a dressing gown wrapped tightly around his body.

He'd just rolled out of bed and left in a panic when he went to bring his girl back into his arms, only to realise she wasn't there. However, when he found her in the Man cave, looking worried but as beautiful as always, his heart stopped thumping--just for it to pick up again when the words tumbled out of his mouth like a...song?

"Frankini's taking the piss," (y/n) replied dryly, looking up at him with concerned eyes from what she'd just witnessed and been forced to do.

Whilst she adored the sight above her - her darling doofus rumpled and sleepy-eyed with his dressing gown hiding his bare body from the night's shenanigans - the idea of being forced to sing was horrible. She could barely hum in front of Ray - how could she do it in front of her friends or strangers?

Ray frowned at the news, not liking to hear the name Frankini in his Man Cave since he still thought that punk needed a punch in his perfect teeth, but since they took him to jail all those months ago, he'd never gotten the opportunity. However, now that he did, he was torn. While he hated that guy, loved his sweet girl, and wanted to help, he didn't.

A dark, menacing fear that he had buried deep down many years ago surfaced at the song that fell from his lips, and he did what he always did when facing his fears. He fled. His friends and lover watched in confusion as he stomped back through the sprocket, mumbling something about "musicals", "childhood", and "trauma", but that wasn't important.

The only thing they could focus on was finding their enemy, preferably before the singing started again.

~A while later~

"What are we gonna do?" That thought was premature.

As Charlotte, Schwoz and (y/n) frantically pushed and flicked every switch and button at the supercomputer; they found themselves panicking and singing. Again. As one melody ended, another started, so they went with the flow and lamented the struggle to locate the craft villain as Jasper joined in, pacing as he tried to find Henry, who still hadn't shown up yet.

They were all doing something useful, even if the smart ones kept treading on each others' toes, but at least they weren't Ray - poor, melancholy Ray. The man skulked back into the main room twenty minutes after he disappeared, looking as miserable as ever, but that wasn't helped by his outfit, which caused them all to burst out laughing the moment he strolled down the steps like a mourning widow.

Frankly, he looked like Kris Jenner. He'd combed his floofy hair down and over his eyes in an emo-like style, highlighting the smudged eyeliner rimmed around his lashes. His sweet girl baulked when she saw that and demanded to know if it was hers, to which he shyly nodded and played with the sleeves of his black turtleneck.

Paired with black trousers and shoes, he looked ridiculous, but no matter how often she tried to approach him, the man remained stoic and aloof whenever (y/n) tried to talk to him. So, she left him to his moping by the tubes, seeing that he was too upset to speak, no matter the reason - she had work to do anyway.

"I'm trying to find Frankini!" Charlotte sweetly exclaimed as she tapped at the console to hone in on the signal left over the criminal hacked into the news network, but he was sneaky and didn't leave much of a breadcrumb trail to follow.

"What are we gonna do?" they sang again, worried they'd never find him, and the city would be plunged into a musical nightmare...forever.

"He's gotta be hiding somewhere!" Schwoz insisted, chanting in his resonant, foreign accent as he scoured Swellview, too, only to come up with nothing. The woman beside him threw her hands up in defeat, groaning in frustration as the newest police reports came with nothing; no sightings, no hints, no mentions of Frankini. Did the cops even care what was happening?

"What are we gonna do?" They sang sadly for the final time just as the elevator dinged, and out stepped Henry. Dear God, he was a sight for sore eyes--or black eyes if you were sulky Ray.

"Finally!" (y/n) breathed out as she turned around to see her fellow sidekick throwing his backpack to the floor. He had a good enough excuse for being late to work, but if only he'd accounted for Jasper and his overly enthusiastic clinginess.

"Sorry it took me so--"

"Ooh, Hen, you'll never believe what happened!" his best friend exclaimed as he bounced up to him, moving to an equally bouncy tune that came out of nowhere. He put his arm around his shoulders, intent on telling him everything as if Henry was the only kid in Swellview who hadn't realised what was happing, but no matter how much he told him, Jasper wouldn't quit it.

"No, I know!"

"There's a musical curse over Swellview!"

"Yeah, I know!" The sidekick tried to butt in after every line, but as they took two steps forwards, they took one step back in a bit of dance that hindered his attempts as much as his friend's chattiness.

"And you'll never believe who did it!"

"Frankini?"

"Frankini!" The kid was like a stuck record as they went around in circles, much to the amusement of Schwoz, Charlotte and (y/n), who thought their ditty was quite catchy.

"Yeah, I know!"

"Ooh, Hen, you'll never believe how he did it!"

"The speakers!"

"He took control of the speakers!" Jasper sang, believing he was helping his friend catch up with everything that had happened in that last hour or so, but Henry didn't want to know what he'd already experienced. He was more interested in why Ray looked like a background actor in a play.

"Yeah, I know!"

"And then put out a weird kind of frequency. And now we have to sing!" That was the final straw for the boy, who didn't need to be told that they were singing, so even if it was mean, he snapped at his friend just for a moment of silence.

"Jasper!"

"Yeah?" his head innocently tilted as he looked at Henry, wondering if he needed help with anything else after explaining all of that, and try as he might, Kid Danger didn't have it in him to chew him out.

"Thanks for filling me in."

"Sure!" he grinned as Henry caved, thinking it was better to let him believe he'd done something good. It was easier that way, and now that it was over, everyone could get back to doing the essential things, such as finding that walking glitterball.

"Let's see if we can trace the source back to Frankini's last livestream," Charlotte said to her fellow smarties as they swiftly moved on from the musical episode between the boys, instead focusing on the task at hand whilst they had a minute's respite.

But, the brief pause from the music in his head thoroughly confused Henry, who hadn't been awake long enough to realise how everything worked.

"Find the source. Then we can hack his system--"

"Hey!" he butted in, causing Schwoz and the others to turn around at his sudden outburst, "Hey, why aren't you singing? Why aren't I singing?! Is it over? Did we break the curse? We broke the curse!"

"I'm glad we broke the curse. I was panicked at first--wait, what? Now, I'm singing again!" Henry exclaimed happily, dancing for joy during the brief, glorious moment when he thought they were free, only for it to be tarnished when his dancing became forced and his singing voice returned to full power.

"Hen, do you not know how musicals work?" (y/n) asked with a small, curious smile as she stepped away from the computer for a minute, her lover watching her every movement with longing eyes. She'd seen enough musical rom-coms with Ray to know the characters got minor breaks, even if it was just for a minute or two. "Sometimes, there's a small moment between songs where people can talk normally."

"Okay..." the boy sighed, saddened that they weren't out of the woods yet.

"But it usually doesn't last very long. 'Cause soon they break into sooo-ooong!" Schwoz sang, his key changing again, much to Jasper's amusement since he loved hitting all the high notes, but for one man in the room, that was enough.

"No, no, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop!" Ray snapped from across the room, and their heads whipped in his direction at his angry tone. Oh god, the music in their minds returned as he slowly and dramatically stood up, only this time, it was slow and poignant, perfect for the drama queen.

"Please, be seated," he said to them all over his shoulder as the lights mysteriously dimmed, a moody frown etched onto his features that made his precious girl's heart clench. She wanted to soothe his worries, anger and sadness, but knowing where they stemmed from made it tricky--those scars ran deep, and he kept pushing her away to remain in his self-pity party.

"When I was a boy, I auditioned for a musical..." he began, his voice soft and nostalgic as he turned his thoughts back thirty years to a moment he'd rather forget but couldn't. Out of nowhere, a spotlight fell on him, confusing the others save for (y/n), who was too busy admiring his muscular figure in that stupid outfit and how the light made his eyes sparkle. The curse truly worked in strange ways.

"It was a musical about cats!"

"Was it cats?" Charlotte foolishly interrupted as Ray pretended to bear fangs and claws, not realising how much of a tender moment this way for the prancing man, who elegantly stepped here and there as part of his blue routine.

"It doesn′t really matter, Charlotte. I'm trying to tell a story here. Please listen. Thank you. Anyway..." Ray replied sharply before carrying on, punching out each sentence with furrowed eyebrows that were scary enough to make the girl back down. Jeez, she could tell that someone didn't get any that morning.

"On the day of the audition, I wore underwear, underwear with cats like in the musical... That's how I knew this role would be mine--stat!" He sang, pouring every ounce of passion into the song, sparing some for his sweet girl since he always had enough for her. But, like the girl next to him on the couch, Schwoz didn't know how much it meant to his boss, so he felt it was okay to chit-chat in between.

"What is stat?" he asked, much to Ray's annoyance, to which (y/n) sent him a sympathetic smile.

"Uh, it means, like, soon."

"Yeah, like ASAP, kinda," the teens explained as Ray practically pulled out a fistful of hair. Did he talk when they sang? No, he didn't because he was respectful, unlike them, who disregarded his mournful clothing and teary eyes for something so trivial.

"Oh, gotcha, gotcha..."

"Are you guys done? I'm kind of pouring my heart out here," he said sarcastically, which made them all button it awkwardly, the group realising that he was in one of his diva moods, where only (y/n) could love him through the tantrums.

"Anyway, I meowed--Oh, I meowed like I'd studied cats at Yale! Meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow!" he belted, pawing the air as he recalled all the feline training he'd put himself through, which led to heartbreak in the end.

"And I shook my tush like my tush had a bushy little tail!"

"Do cats have bushy tails?" Jasper asked, repeatedly interrupting Ray's catlike movements - and ass-shaking that intrigued his girl - on a technicality, which angered the man again.

"Yeah, don't embarrass yourself, bro.

"Squirrels? Rabbits?" And, out of everything they could've said to disrupt his song, it just had to be an argument about which animal had a bushy tail. Ray couldn't make this shit up.

"What's with all the side chats?" He questioned in a strained voice, the mysterious lighting gone now that they ruined his gloomy setting. No one wanted to face his wrath as everyone knew that whilst he didn't sound pissed off, experience said he undoubtedly was, so Henry and Schwoz encouraged (y/n) to go up and talk to him. After all, he wouldn't bite off the head of the girl he was in love with.

"Sweetheart, it's just that they can tell what happens in the end," the woman descanted in a melodious voice as she stood up to go to his side, placing her palms flat against his chest once she was. Her serenading and touch seemed to impress her friends and calm the hero, even if he remained stubborn.

"Ha! That I doubt!" Ray argued, throwing his head back with a laugh, which would offend anyone else, but (y/n) knew him and the story better than that. She knew how broken little Ray felt after being turned down, how he swore never to try out for the stage again, and how he broke down in her arms after telling her the story when "insomnia" kept her awake one night as his best friend.

"You didn't get the role. It went to someone else who tried out," she reminded him of the predictable truth, knowing that her fiancée needed to hear it more often so he could come to terms with it, but even so, the reality was still raw to the touch.

"Irregardless!" The hero scoffed, trying to sound all confident and assertive as she gave him a sad but loving look, yet he knew that she saw through the mask. Still, he was secretly grateful for the strength and comfort she brought, so he pecked her cheek before ushering her to sit again.

"Not a word, doofus," (y/n) muttered to herself as she flopped onto the couch again, sighing since she'd tried her best. Ray felt a tad better (she could tell that much from the kiss burning on her skin), but he still needed to keep singing as the lights dimmed and the spotlight returned.

"Ever since that day, I've had a hatred for musicals. So, whoever caused this curse--" he crooned into the distance, staring wistfully at the wall for extra drama, although no one quite knew why he was so theatrical. It must've been the curse, or maybe it was just Ray. Probably just Ray.

"You know it was Frankini."

"Doofus, we've been singing this all along."

"Yeah, he said it in the news."

"Pay attention," his family interjected, causing the man to smile bashfully as they caught him out. Right, he'd listened to every sweet sound his gorgeous girl sang because, usually, she was so shy, and he never got to hear that angelic soprano of hers. He just loved the drama nearly as much as he loved her.

"Oh, yeah...So Franki-i-i-ini..." Ray moved on, his voice mellowing as he dragged out the note, and Schwoz, who always used to watch those musical rom-coms with (y/n) when Ray said they were too cheesy until he realised they were the perfect excuse to snuggle with her, sensed what was coming.

"Oh, God, I smell a high note! Plug your ears!" the genius hissed to the woman and kids, who quickly did as he said since they didn't want bleeding eardrums. She loved him with everything she had, but even (y/n) knew that Ray's tenor couldn't go high, no matter how hard he tried.

"Will payyyyyyyy!" the hero screeched, going so squeaky that only dogs could hear him, and the others were thankful for the fingers in their ears when the high pitch shattered a vase with a pretty bouquet behind him.

"Ayyyy, that was my favourite vase!" Schwoz cried as he scrambled off the couch to inspect the damage, and (y/n) quickly followed him, annoyed with her doofus, albeit for a different reason.

"You have a favourite vase?" Jasper asked the small man, who faced him and grumbled that he did. Now, all that remained were the fragments of glass, which were now utterly useless and irreparable, even by his technology's standards.

"Screw the vase! Raymond, you only just got me these flowers!" the heroine whined as she crouched near the mess and carefully salvaged the bouquet without nicking any of her fingers on the sharp shards. The vibrant roses and delicate baby's breath arrangement was his surprise a few days ago after he returned from a short trip to town, and nothing made her happier than seeing them in the main room every day - a symbol of his pure love for her.

He was lucky that none of the stems snapped, and all the flowers were intact. Otherwise, she'd pout all afternoon, and his moodiness had nothing on hers, mainly since it meant no kisses for him.

"Hey, guys! Frankini was just spotted outside of Swellview Park!" Charlotte gasped as she casually flicked through Twitflash, only to see several reports that the cocky villain dared to venture outside, despite the entire city hating him.

"Bold move showing his face in public," Ray commented as the news washed over him, causing him to forget about his depressing solo and enter a more heroic state of mind.

"We're gonna show his face our fists and stop this musical curse!" Henry declared, feeling pumped already as he rose from the couch to bump fists with Ray - who certainly loved the idea of punching that glowstick of a man.

"Nice..." (y/n) grinned too as she rested the flowers on the cabinet near the tubes and made a mental note to get Schwoz to put them in water before they shrivelled up. Once that was done, she stepped over to her doofus and wrapped her arms around his bicep, squeezing it to her chest as the excitement got to her.

"Wait! The Swellview Summer Market is going on at the park right now, isn't it?" Jasper butted in, showing his remarkable talent for stopping Ray just as he was about to lean down and kiss his girl's honeyed lips. God, why was he like that?

"Yeah, so?" Charlotte shrugged, not seeing the relevance, especially when her friend looked off into nothingness with a nostalgic smile.

"Oh, man, the times I had there..." he sighed happily, memories flooding in as a chirpy, slightly country tune began in their heads, much to everyone's disturbed confusion. "...Every summer, we would go down to the park. The long days would fade into the--"

"Yeah, don't go there."

"No!"

"No-go, no-go!" His friends exclaimed as he began to sing and groove to the music, unaware that they had neither the time nor the energy to sit and watch him proclaim his love for the Summer Market. So, they shook him by the shoulders until he snapped out of it - dazed and confused about what was going on.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, not the time. Not the time," he bashfully replied as they went their separate ways. Maybe he'd have his moment because Jasper Dunlop had so many glorious things to sing about, and just not when Captain Man, Miss Danger and Kid Danger had to rearrange a guy's face.

Ah, the park was beautiful. The birds were tweeting; the butterflies were dancing, and the sun was shining - all in time to the pleasant yet grating music playing in everyone's minds.

The park vendors just wanted to work and sell their wares, but, of course, Frankini's curse forced them to whistle, sing and waltz around the place like idiots as they did. And that was fun at first; however, after doing it for hours on end, sweating in the heat and watching their customers slowly become exhausted, the novelty soon wore off.

"Ice cream, ice cream! "Fresh corn on the cob!" They sang angelically and had it been under different circumstances, the people browsing the stalls would've loved it. But, they found themselves singing along, too, meaning no one could enjoy the warm, sunny day.

"I got hot dogs!" "Beans, pinto beans!" Well, that's what they thought. Who could love a never-ending musical? Frankini--and here came the mastermind, looking like a renaissance doily.

"Listen to them sing! I'm bursting at the seams! They're having so much fun. Do you know what this means?" he piped as he pranced around the market, misunderstanding everyone's singing as admiration for him - blind to the citizen's glares. By his side, as ever, was Goomer, who grinned blankly and did as Frankini told him, mainly because he was just happy to be a part of something.

"They're hungry?" he guessed, watching his boss twirl in his ridiculous outfit. After yet another costume change, the villain had gone for a more theatrical fit, donning a strange period shirt, waistcoat, leggings and heeled boots, complete with a large flower pinned to his left shoulder, a lace train flowing behind him and a lace parasol - because he wanted to go for an understated look.

"No, they love me!"

"Oh, I'm hungry!" Goomer wilted when he heard Frankini's sharp reply, feeling his tummy rumble when the smell of hot dogs, beans and ice cream wafted over from the vendors.

"Here. Go get some beans--Stop singing, just go!" The criminal sighed and slapped a few bills against his minion's chest, chastising him when he felt the need to hum his happiness. Honestly, some people didn't understand the magic of musicals.

"Frankini?!" A voice gasped from across the grass, and when the aforementioned man snapped his head in its direction, he saw a pretty yet unremarkable girl glaring frostily at him -- Piper. Boy, she did not look happy to see his face; how dare he have the gall to show his face.

"Well, no need to be star-struck! Even though the star is here! Well, I just came by to see how much everyone is loving the musical gift that I've graciously given to Swellview! So..." he smirked at the girl, walking circles around her before bending down to her level, a hand cupping his ear. Did he want her to say something nice?

"I'll sing for the group," the girl said sharply, wanting to shout, scream and curse at him, but with the curse in effect, the best she could do was belt out some insults. Oh, well - it was better than nothing.

"We hate it. We hate it! We hate your stupid curse. We're sick of all the singing and think you're the worst!"

"We're sick of all the singing and think you're the worst!" Piper sang with the vendors as her backup whilst she shoved Frankini a few times to emphasise her disgust at his selfish actions. Several boys, scattered around the park, bobbed up and down in a dance they didn't want to do as the villain pretended to faint at such a cruel thing to say, feeling flabbergasted that they didn't love the constant singing as he did.

"That's not what he wanted to hear!" Goomer told them as he caught his melodramatic boss in his arms, knowing he wanted to be adored, not hated.

"I don't understand!" Frankini whined as he picked his head up and sniffled before Goomer put him back on his feet for yet more pouting. "How could anyone not find delight in this musical utopia?"

"Want an example?"

"Sure!" the man nodded when Piper offered, and without a second thought, she grabbed his hand and dragged him across the park, intent on showing him all the chaos his machine caused—starting with the boys who were far too athletic and laddish to strut about all day.

"These bro guys, these jocks! They're stuck here in your trance. They wanna throw the football but are forced to dance!" the girl sang with the vendors as the boys moved in time with each other, swinging their arms and feet in a hip-hop-y style that would've looked cool if they were a troupe. Sadly, they were simply kids hoping to have some fun on the field, which couldn't happen, thanks to Frankini.

"Well, it's not my fault that some people are boring and don't understand the concept of whimsy!" he complained, rolling his eyes at having the finger of blame pointed at him. He had so many excuses - none good - but he'd have to try a damn sight better than that as some familiar faces finally arrived on the scene.

"Step aside, Frankini!" A heroic voice called out, startling the villain into looking up from his perfect manicure as the innocent bystanders felt their hearts beating fast.

"Enter the heroes!" the vendors chirped, their heads snapping in one direction and then another before they faced Captain Man, Miss Danger and Kid Danger, who strutted toward their enemy with scowls on their faces. God, he looked just as annoying as he always did.

"Well, well, the sidekicks, the captain! So nice of you to show!" Frankini sang powerfully and smirked when he saw the trio approaching, glancing at them up and down at their confident auras - and he made sure to get a good look at Miss Danger.

"Sorry, but, Frankini, it is time to go!" They told him in harmony, making Ray feel foolish since he couldn't help but sing. Even if he was holding his sweet girl's hand - a comfort to him and her - it still felt as if everyone's eyes were on his, waiting for a mistake like all those years ago.

"The heroes tell the villain that it's time to go!"

"That's right..."

"Yeah!"

"Pretty much sums it up," The three nodded awkwardly after the vendors finished singing their chirpy add-in, and the tension only got worse when everyone in the park snapped their faces towards the battle. Frakini versus the crimefighters; no one could look away, so it was up to Ray to step in first, even if he considered himself musically inept.

"Listen, Frankini. We've all had a wonderful magical sing-songy day!"

"Not!" He sang with Henry, both inspiring (y/n) with the confidence to jump in whenever she could to make sure the villain knew everyone hated him and the curse.

She liked singing in the shower; the loofah was her microphone, Ray's rubber duck was her audience, and the cubicle was her stadium - and that's how her doofus always knew when to join her in the shower. The entirety of Swellview, however, was not, and even though her voice was still clear and soft, her guts were doing somersaults.

"That's right, Kid Danger. I was being sarcastic," Ray gloated, a smug smirk painted on his lips when his eyes met his lover's. He winked at her, causing Miss Danger to blush and suppress a smile since that was his subtle way of teasing her for finding his angry hero persona attractive - a fact she should not have told him since he knew to look out for it now.

And that sure gave the crowd something to giggle and whisper about.

"My sidekicks and I will decide not to fight you if you make this curse go away."

"Hot," she flirted, forgoing her shyness when singing so she could subtly tell him how her tummy was tingling at the sight of him taking control. Another boost to his confidence made Ray stand up straighter and clench his fists, with pride blooming in his chest as Henry cleared his throat awkwardly. Honestly, he couldn't take those two anywhere without them causing a scene for the tabloids.

"Well...You've stated your case, and I'll swear to your face. You'll stop singing at eight on the dot!" Frankini bargained, seemingly thinking about Captain man's threat for a moment as he circled the hero and his beloved sidekick. It was easy to run rings around him; it made him wonder what the lady saw in someone so drab and fashionably clueless.

"Great!" Henry grinned, falling for the promise, which (y/n) deemed too good to be true on second thoughts.

"Not!" However, his smile dropped when the villain immediately went back on his word, just as (y/n)'s tummy predicted. And as if that wasn't bad enough, Ray's temper began to boil over when he dared to boop his sweet girl on the nose when he finished twirling, causing her to screw up her face in disgust.

"Then you'll be fought!" the hero growled, pulling his fists up to his chin to show Frankini that he and his sidekicks meant business - both mimicking his actions as their enemy, and the crowd gasped at the threat.

"The heroes and the villain couldn't strike a deal. So, they are squaring off to fight, like, for real!" the sellers sang, swirling around their stalls as Ray, Henry and (y/n) prepared to battle with Frankini, which was more challenging than they first fought since the music in their heads commanded dancing, not fighting. Still, they were determined, so even as they pranced about like idiots and crisscrossed their feet, they clenched their fingers and aimed.

"His arm is drawing back! Here comes the punch attack! One, two, three!--" each side jumped forward on the count, Frankini smirking as he and his unwilling backup dancers met the heroes, but even more so when Ray threw his fist...only for his punch to fail. He threw it with as much force as he always used, but just as it was about to touch the man's cheek, his muscles became loose, and he instead shook his hand like a moron. What the...?

"Uh, Captain Man? What's the delay?" (y/n) asked nervously as she leaned into her fiancé's side so she didn't embarrass him, but honestly, Ray couldn't explain what had just happened.

"I say..." Sensing her nerves, Ray tried again, throwing his arm straight for Frankini's face, but it happened again. His fingers involuntarily wiggled as if they meant no harm, but that couldn't be further from the truth. He wanted to punch that smug laugh right out of him.

"Does this happen often?"

"I think you know it doesn't!" Ray snapped and flexed his useless hand, allowing (y/n) to massage his palm and stretch his fingers as if it would help. He could never deny her anything like that, especially since it made the walking tissue in front of him press his lips in a firm, unimpressed line. A small victory, but he'd take what he could get.

"I got this. Face kick!" Henry exclaimed, pushing his boss into his fiancée's arms since it looked like there was nothing more he could do, and he was always happiest there anyway.

So, as (y/n) dealt with his bruised ego, the kid went in for a roundhouse kick, only to do some weird, elaborate dance routine where he managed to throw his leg in the air and wave his hands about - highly hilarious for Frankini to watch.

"Sorry, guys, but you don't have a chance! The only fights in musicals are fights through dance!" he told them, puffing out his chest before putting an arm around Kid Danger and Captain Man's shoulders. Miss Danger found herself in the middle, with Frankini's face far too close to hers for comfort as he huddled close to her and kicked his legs in the air.

"They cannot hurt Frankini 'cause--"

"We got it, shut up!" (y/n) snapped when the annoying stall owners piped up again, and she knew her boys didn't need a reminder of how sucky they were at fighting with the curse. Yet another disadvantage for the criminal to mock them over, and she didn't have to look at her doofus' face to know he was livid.

"Sorry!" Still, they had backup plans; no hero ever went into a fight without taking along a gadget or two just in case.

"Also, before you try shooting me with one of your little lasers..." Frakini, however, had thought about that. So, as Captain Man and his sidekicks drew their laser controllers from their belts, he decided to warn them, even if it was still gloating.

"All weapons in musical theatre are props!" he cried, throwing his arms up happily when all the lasers did was fire confetti and streams. Nothing lethal about that; it only added to his merry game and worsened their moods.

"That does it!" Ray shouted in anguish and angrily threw the useless weapon to the ground, where it nestled amongst the streamers as he returned to his roots. When in doubt, punch your way through your problems, and if that doesn't work, fight until you can't fight anymore. That was his motto.

"At this point, they should know that fighting will not work! They'll have to find another way to beat this jerk. Frankini set the rules. Our heroes look like fools!" They knew how to rub it in, but the superheroes had to say--the vendors were right.

Frankini led them around the park, and they danced if he danced. If he twirled, they twirled. If he stepped lightly, so did they. And Ray (y/n) and Henry were just along for the ride, pumping their arms in the air before Frankini held onto the boys to reenact the can-can.

Before they knew what was happening, he kneed Ray and Henry in the gut, so they doubled over in pain and roughly pushed them and Miss Danger to the ground before she could do anything.

"Listen, I could do this little song and dance all day, But I could use an intermission, just like on Broadway! Goomer!" the former celebrity cried, dramatically calling for his henchman as the heroes lay winded on the grass.

"Beans?" the tall, goofy giant asked with a bright grin, once again not knowing what was happening.

"Catch me!" his boss instructed excitedly, and Goomer quickly had to get his head in the game as Frankini dashed towards him, expecting him to lift his petite frame skywards in a final move to wow the crowd. They were definitely wowed, and his enemies were utterly humiliated, which meant his work was over.

"Exit the villain!" And, in a puff of smoke and a flash of light, Frankini and Goomer fled in a genuinely dramatic departure. Stunned, the crowd descended into a hiss of confused whispers, and chesty coughs from the smoke whilst Henry slowly pulled himself together and got up. Ray helped (y/n) to her feet, too, and both looked around with wide eyes and an uneasy feeling in their stomachs.

It was over - but in what sense?

"All right, we defeated Frankini, and he ran away! 'Cause, we defeated him!" Ray announced with his signature Captain Man smile, the one he used to try and soothe crying children and traumatised people into thinking everything was okay. He tried to sound confident, squeezed his girl's hand and brought it close to his chest to try and convey that everything was fine, but no one bought it. Hell, he didn't even sound convinced.

"Not true, and you know it!" The vendors retorted, their formerly chirpy voices sounding more depressed to match their worried faces as they returned to work - hopefully with less singing this time.

"All right, fine!" Ray snapped, the tension in his body making his arms feel like concrete as (y/n) clung to one, and he admitted defeat. He wouldn't call that running away, more like a tactical retreat after giving them an ass-kicking as a warning; it was foolish to say otherwise, which meant he ground his teeth in irritation at the thought of being beat.

"Hey, doofus, it's not all bad," his sweet girl spoke up, talking to him in the soft voice she knew always soothed him as she rubbed his bicep--anything to make them go squishy again, "he said something about an intermission, right?"

"Yeah, maybe the curse will be over in the morning?" Henry nodded firmly, trying to pick up his boss's mood as she did, but it didn't help. All it did was raise the question of whether Frankini would keep his word, and his track record wasn't exactly squeaky-clean.

~The next day~

Oh, the sunrise over the city was glorious. The daylight broke over Mount Swellview, and due to Captain Man and his sidekicks' speculation, the people welcomed the dawn as they did every day, with groans about how tired they were and complaints that they had too much work to do before noon.

Or, for Ray and (y/n), the early hours were the best. No interruptions, no quarrels, no drama; just warmth, sleep, snuggles and strong arms curled around her body as they slowly came around. Yeah, the mornings were good, but that one, in particular, was shaping up to be pure bliss.

"Hey, sweet girl..." Ray muttered as he rolled onto his side, as bare as the day he was born, to find a comfier position, yet he kept his tiny fiancée close to him. He snaked an arm around her waist to pull their hips closer and encourage her to bury her face in his neck - a sensation that always comforted him and made the heroine crack open her eyes.

"Hey, doof," she whispered back, wriggling closer until every inch of her skin pressed against every inch of his, with her nose rubbing against his jugular. The room was still dark but slowly getting brighter and brighter, which would inevitably force them to get up in an hour or so, but that was ages away, and Ray, as always, knew how to fill the time.

"I'm so glad we're not singing," he confessed as his fingers trailed down her spine and towards her butt, tickling her sensitive sides as they went. He wasn't sure if he'd be able to cope if their early morning bliss turned into a sing-song and genuinely shuddered at the idea of such a turn-off. But, a small part of him admitted that hearing his precious angel openly for the first time was a treat, although he'd never tell the world that.

"Me too," she replied softly, smiling into his neck as she suppressed the urge to shriek when his fingertips ghosted over her ribs, only to smirk when they went lower. He was never original, always had the same plan every day, and she always pretended as if it was an annoyance - something she should've told her face.

"Don't you ever get tired of this?" (y/n) asked, feining an irritated voice when he suddenly rolled again to hover over her body and prop himself up with his forearm. Genuine disinterest would typically get her lover to back off, but he carried on, sure from the giggle stuck in her throat that his nipping at her sensitive skin was welcome.

"Nope--Could never get tired of you," he grinned, working down the column of her throat, which she instinctively stretched to give him more room, thus showing how she felt the same. The room suddenly felt scorching as he explored and took his time, and all she could hear was the blood rushing past her ears and a yawn falling from her lips.

"But it's so early," she whined through the yawn, still upholding the façade even as her hips bucked into his. Ray chuckled at her cuteness, growled at her wanton eagerness, and upped his game by swiftly moving past her collarbone and south. He felt greedy and knew that his patience wouldn't last if he didn't get his daily honey fix - and he knew how to keep his girl sweet.

"You look so beautiful this morning," he hummed, ghosting his lips over the hardened peak he kneaded and fondled with intense care and attention, even though his lust was burning him up from the inside out.

"Raymond...Only you would say that as I'm yawning," (y/n) giggled but froze when they realised something. Her tone was clear, serene and pitch-perfect, each note stretched and controlled to break the daybreak peace with song beautifully.

A damn song. Fuck.

"..." For a minute, they were silent. Ray's large hand stilled on her chest as his head snapped to her pale face, both sets of eyes wide and shocked since that wasn't supposed to happen. But it did.

"You just sang, sweet girl..." the hero breathed out, almost as if he needed to hear it to grasp it too. All (y/n) could manage was a shallow, slow nod, her body motionless as she lay underneath him and felt the goodness drain away.

The moment was lost, gone the second he heard the first sound leave her mouth, and despite everything, Ray couldn't find it in himself to carry on.

It felt...icky.

"Yeah...you know what this means, right?" she whispered, sounding small and scared after he moved his hand to clench the pillow under her head. His scowl said everything, and she'd never felt a coldness like it when Ray clumsily clambered back over to his side of the bed and out, leaving her to pull the sheets up to her chin with trembling hands and wobbly bottom lip.

"Ray?" Henry groaned into his phone, sounding as if he'd just woken up--mainly because he had. Ray didn't care; if he had to be awake, so did his sidekick because they had a real problem.

Of course, he'd spare him the details, but as he stood outside the sprocket, clad in just the robe he'd grabbed before storming out of his and his girl's bedroom, it felt justified. Two days, he'd gone without; by their standards, that was a lifetime, and it showed in his crabbiness, which Henry had the joy of hearing when he began barking down the line.

"It's not over!" the man growled, fed up with the bouncy tune in his head - he really should've noticed it earlier. His feet were cold; his hair was a mess; his eyes were watery from getting up so early, and his chest ached at the thought of the darling girl he'd left alone down the hall.

Frankini had a lot to answer for.

~Later that day~

A few hours later, the not-so-happy couple trudged from their bedroom into the main room, grumpy but determined to track down their enemy, who remained at large. No one had seen a sight or sound of Frankini, which made it extra difficult for the Man Cave team to track him down.

So, it was good that they had their best people working on it, namely Schwoz, (y/n) and Charlotte. And as they toiled and slogged at the computer and a remote PearPad, Henry and Jasper found themselves comforting, or instead, distracting Ray with a game of cards--y'know, since he kept biting people's heads off whenever they asked why he was so tense.

"Jasper, do you have a three?" the hero asked flatly, irritated by both the musical lilt in his voice and the fact that he could hear his sweet girl humming to herself behind him. It would be all too easy to get up and have her all to himself, but they'd either start singing, or she'd get antsy and stressed about not helping out - and he wanted neither of those things.

"Go fish."

"Rats!" It wasn't his day; Ray thought as he took a card from the pile in the middle of the table.

"Let's see... Henry, do you have a king?" Jasper moved on, staring at his cards and weighing up his options as he turned to his best friend, who wasn't paying attention despite loving a good, old game of Go Fish. "Henry? Henry!"

"Ah!" Henry jumped when he shouted in his ear, quickly returning to reality as the other boys stared at him. "Sorry, sorry, I'm just sick of this musical curse. I mean, what if it goes on forever, man? What if it goes on forever? Man? What if that? What if that? What if that? Man?"

"Calm down," Ray instructed, noting the kid's dull yet panicked ramblings getting the better of him. He was worried too, but he didn't let it get to him; there was no way the curse would last forever - they wouldn't let it get that far because if they did, that meant a lifetime of no more sweet girl action for him, and he couldn't face that.

"The Smarties are over there trying to track down the location of Frankini's lair right now."

"Yeah, well, the quote-unquote Smarties are taking a quote-unquote long time!" Henry snapped, flexing his fingers to mock the trio tapping away at their devices, which wasn't particularly inspiring for them to hear since he was doing nothing to help. All he'd done was sit there, and he dared to complain.

"Not helping!"

"The more you complain, the longer it will take."

"Don't you air-quote me," they told him coldly, refusing to glance at him as their work needed all their attention, and besides, he didn't know how hard it was to be a Smartie. The pressure, the expectations, the experience, the tenacity; he was clueless, so thank God, for once in his life, Ray wasn't.

"Kid, that's not how it's done!" he scoffed, giving his sidekick a sympathetic smirk since he thought that that was how to handle a clever person. Oh, he had so much to learn. "Watch and learn!"

"Hey Schwoz, what are you doin′ right now? Somethin' super smart, I bet!" the hero put on his brightest smile as he rose and stepped over to the three, who eyed him with confusion since it wasn't like their boss to get involved with tricky things or be friendly, for that matter. Only (y/n) could see what he was up to, beaming when Schwoz took the bait.

"Aww, well, I′m hackin' into the mainframe, so we can go find what's-his-name. Usin′ this appliance, science, science, science, breakin′ only one or two laaaaws!" the genius sang and danced a little as a jaunty piano played out of nowhere, and it seemed to get his energy and enthusiasm up.

"It really is impressive. How else can I express it?" Ray threw in compliments wherever he could, knowing from experience that people work harder when their egos are stroked - well, it worked for him.

"Aww, that's why you have a Schwoz..."

"Doodlee-doo!" the shorter man blushed as they hummed chirpily, backs pressed together as they uttered nonsense in a strangely touching moment. Confusing but touching.

"Doodlee-doo?" Jasper echoed, wondering where the hell that came from. He'd seen the man be soft, squishy, and vulnerable numerous times - most of them involved (y/n) - but he'd never seen him act so tender with his handyman, the guy he loved to "hate".

"Yeah, what's with you?" Henry frowned, too, mimicking Jasper with his arms folded tightly across his chest because the man in front of him wasn't Ray. He was too...kind and complimented those who were not sweet.

"The more you compliment them, the faster they′ll work. Watch!" Ray hissed to them, hoping The Smarties weren't listening (they were, but it was nice to hear him appreciate their work for once). The boys understood what he was talking about, but still looked hesitant, so Ray went again, this time aiming his crawling at Charlotte.

"Hey Char, bet you're pretty close to trackin′ Frankini down, huh? My little genius..."

"Aww, well...I did a scan of the whole town the night that everything went down. Soon I'll know the source, and after that, of course, I can show you the map with a staaaar!" Charlotte sang happily, feeling all fluttery and warm inside since she could count the times she'd been appreciated on the one hand. It was lovely to hear the usually tough man be kind to someone other than his future wife.

"Man, you are amazing, really trailblazing!" Ray grinned, aware that he was laying it on thick, but he knew it would work. And for that smile from their usually stern friend, Henry and Jasper could also get in on the action.

"I really like your brain, dude! Truly is insane, dude!"

" And not being sarcastic, your hair looks fantastic!" they told her, praising her more in those few seconds than they had in all their years of friendship, making the girl flush and grow bashful enough to sit on her chair again.

"Aww! That's why you have a Char!"

"Doodlee-doo!" she quickly returned to her searching with a smile on her face and fingers that tapped twice as fast, and Henry and Jasper began to understand what Ray meant, but he wasn't finished. How could he resist a chance to smother his precious fiancée in compliments?

"Hang on, guys, I'm not done yet," he smirked, holding his hand up to signify that their victorious smiles and whispers were premature. To the right of Charlotte stood an insanely beautiful, insanely hot and insanely intelligent young woman, and he'd be damned if he didn't crawl for her efficiency or affection, too.

"And finally, the sweetest girl in town! Hey, baby, why don't you tell us what's going down?" he asked coyly, waltzing up behind (y/n) to put his hands on her hips as she used the other end of the computer's console.

She didn't need to be a Smartie to know what he was up to, but to feel his giant's body pressed against hers after he bolted out of their bedroom earlier that morning, she played along.

"Raymond, I know what you're doin', but I'm tryin' to find some clues in the local press and news..." she told him, scrolling up and down Twitflash and KLVY's webpage for anything on Frankini and ever so slowly, she was beginning to piece things together.

"Anything on the websites?" the hero asked, kissing the corner of her shoulder to encourage her since she knew things and could do something he could only imagine.

"Mostly stuff on our fight, but I'll find those sparkly tights, even if it takes me all niiiight..." she promised him, shivering when his lips met her neck for a brief second before he pulled back to admire the stunning girl who held his heart. It was no wonder he fell for her; she was perfect.

"Wow, darlin', you've done so well, and here I thought finding him would be hell. Y'know, having you as my girl, sometimes it feels too good to be true..." he cooed, and (y/n) turned in his embrace as she could look into his adoring eyes and loop her arms around his neck.

"Awww, doofus...that's why I love you!"

"Doodlee-doo!" Henry and Jasper hummed to themselves, snickering when the big bad boss melted into the kiss they shared. He engulfed his fiancé, curling around her body as his hands cupped her face to move his lips against hers faster and hungrier, for him to whine when she pulled away to return to work.

Sure, he was nice to everyone else, but no one had him wrapped around their little finger as she did.

"Well, how do you know if you compliment them, they′ll work faster?" Henry asked as Ray returned to him and Jasper, a swagger in his step and a smirk on his face. That was his smug face - the "I have the hottest woman in the world as my future wife" look - and it got on their nerves almost as much as when The Smarties proved him wrong.

"Done!" Need Ray say more?

"A-doodlee-doo!" The hero's smirk intensified as the trio wrapped up their work and prepared to present, which left Jasper and Henry speechless whilst Ray walked away. He held out his hand for his sweet girl to take, and she happily bounced alongside him as he brought her knuckles to his lips, kissing her ring as he always did.

"Okay, we have determined that Frankini's frequency blast yesterday came from right here," Schwoz said as everyone gathered around a mobile monitor. On it, he showed them a map of Swellview, and in the centre, there was a small, flashing star to highlight where Frankini was up to no good - just as Charlotte had said.

"Wow, you really did have a star. You didn't just say that to rhyme with Char. Respect!" Ray kindly told Charlotte, who blushed again at her boss's words. Now she knew why (y/n) was so crazy about him - he was a real sweetheart when he wanted to be.

"You are so sweet today!" she told him, a hand on her chest to bestill her beating heart, and her friend looked up at her doofus with a proud smile.

"Isn't he the best?" (y/n) cooed, reaching to pinch Ray's squishy cheeky before she squeezed him in a tight hug from a sudden inrush of affection. Charlotte wouldn't go that far; she could list plenty of flaws about the guy too, but she didn't mention them, merely giggled with the woman as they returned to Schwoz's lecture and whispered about how she couldn't have found a better match.

"Yeah..." Ray shrugged, acting all shrewd and dismissive until he leaned back to gloat at Henry and Jasper with a tongue click. The minute they ended this curse, he'd be getting some—no doubt about it.

"Anyway, it looks like Frankini is hiding out in the abandoned karaoke club up on Alpine Street," Charlotte quickly moved on, promising (y/n) that she could swoon and chatter about how much she loved Ray later. They had to share their wisdom with those lacking in grey cells.

"Karry-Yoh-De-Lay-Hee-Hoo?" Jasper inquired, remembering when the club was the place to go in town before a bad investment ruined the owner and his business empire.

"Yeah, people online say they've been seeing and hearing some strange stuff around that area. The lights are on. People are going in and out. It's bizarre," (y/n) noted, thinking it was odd that an abandoned building was so busy. Someone had turned the electricity back, and two strange figures kept skulking around the entrance. She'd bet her left kidney that she knew who those figures were.

"I used to sing in the yodelling competitions there. First place got a trophy made of cheese," Jasper suddenly recalled, getting all misty-eyed and nostalgic as he remembered the young, carefree, yodelling days of his childhood. Well, that is until the building fell into wrack and ruin.

"You wouldn't think a karaoke club would have high-quality trophy cheese, but this place? This place was different," he mumbled, gazing off into the distance as the eery music from when he wanted to solo earlier returned: oh God, not the country, anything but the country.

"The best cheese that I ever, ever had! I used to go there with my dear ol'--" he started, getting ready to groove as he swung his hips around in a manner that didn't befit the ladies in the room, or the boys for that matter, so his friends hurriedly jumped in and told him to knock it off. They valued mostly having innocent minds.

"Yeah, not the right time again, huh?" he muttered and stared at the floor as his cheeks superheated to a temperature that rivalled lava. The poor kid awkwardly scratched the back of his neck as he wandered to the computer--any place where he didn't have to meet anyone's eyes.

"So...what's the plan?" Henry asked, eager to ignore the palpable tension and awkwardness, so his best friend didn't die of shame. Plus, it wouldn't hurt to prepare - everyone knew Frankini to be sneaky and coniving.

"Well, now that we know where Frankini is, I can hack in and shut down whatever machine he's using to send out this musical curse," Schwoz replied as he and Charlotte crossed the floor to return to the supercomputer.

(y/n) would've gone with them had it not been for Ray's arms wrapped tightly around her waist to prevent escape. He was needy for her attention; the other Smarties could handle it.

"It will take me, like, five seconds," Schwoz bragged, waving his hand to show that the task wasn't a problem, and he quickly got to work, so his impatient boss didn't start snapping. Not that he would; (y/n)'s soft neck was so much more exciting, and he couldn't resist nuzzling his nose against it--until the screens flickered to an entirely different broadcast.

"Uh, uh, uh! Uh, uh, uh! Uh, uh, uh!" Of course, it was him. On the screen was Frankini, standing in yet another glitzy outfit as he waggled his finger at the camera and tutted at those who'd predictably tried to hack him. Not so smart, after all...

"It might take me longer than that," Schwoz chuckled nervously as he slowly spun to see Ray's furious expression and how his hands tensed on (y/n)'s hips. He wasn't happy, and his mood didn't improve when a new notification appeared on the screen.

"Hey, we're getting a call!" (y/n) said as the computer buzzed, and a simmering feeling of worry set into her stomach. It was probably nothing - just her nerves like always.

"Yeah, and it's coming from..." As she tapped a few buttons to bring up the location, Charlotte gasped, "Karry-Yoh-De-Lay-Hee-Hoo?!"

"Frankini's calling us?" Jasper huffed with her, his embarrassment forgotten as he stood up and moved to the computer, too concerned with the much bigger problem.

"So, our whole song was pointless," Schwoz grumbled to the girls, who deflated when they realised he was right. All of their brainpower went on nothing; all those compliments, for what? Frakini humiliated them by outsmarting The Smarties - jerk.

"Not entirely pointless," Ray mumbled against (y/n)'s cheek as he wrapped himself around her to enjoy the last few moments of affection before they had to get serious. He moved across her skin and lingered on her jaw before trailing down her neck, eliciting tiny squeals from the woman as she squirmed at the ticklish sensation. And, of course, she wanted to work. That was there too.

"No, doofus--we--we need to concentrate on Fra--Fra-n--kini!"

"Let's just hide. Come on," Charlotte rolled her eyes at the sight of her friend and boss before she, Schwoz and Jasper exited through the secret door, wondering how they could remain so lovey-dovey even with the villain waiting.

Or, maybe, that was part of Ray's plan - to make him wait since he always tried to steal his sweet girl to make her the perfect wingwoman. No, he undoubtedly wanted to have her to himself; that was it.

"Okay, dude, put her down!" Henry instructed the hero flatly, gum tube in hand, waiting with learned patience as his kisses eventually stopped, and they separated with flushed faces, although he wasn't sure if that was shame or passion.

"Let's blow a ball..."

"And talk to Frankini!" Ray said gleefully as he shoved the gum into his mouth, not realising that the kid had initiated a sick rhyme, and he'd shot it down without even a good attempt. God, and he was supposed to be the one who liked to sound cool.

"Doofus, Henry, set you up perfectly for that. It was supposed to be, blow a ball and take this call!" (y/n) giggled as she chewed her gum, hugging his arm to her body from the overload she got from his adorable denseness. He was an idiot, but he was her idiot, and as she refused to let go, Ray looked down at her and smiled.

"I know, sweet girl. I know..." he replied, cutely smiling as if he planned to make her fawn over him all along. Maybe he was a genius - the world would never know.

They burst into their costumes, Ray and Henry pausing for a quick fist-bump before they solemnly walked over to the computer. One last glance at each other for confirmation, a brief second to tightly lace hands together, and the kid hit the button, each mentally preparing themselves for whatever the criminal threw at them next.

The call started and put them through to Frankini's lair, but the person on-screen wasn't who they expected. It was Goomer, wearing an alarmingly bright hoodie as he stood in front of a thick, velvet royal purple curtain and golden, tasselled rope with a note in his hand. Curious...

"Goomer looks at the camera and says, hello... Hello." he started awkwardly, reading every word on the cue card, even though they were pretty obviously directions written by Frankini for him to follow.

"Just introduce me!" Frankini's unmistakable voice could be heard off-screen, and his harsh tone had the heroes swapping looks. What game was he playing exactly?

"Oh, live from Karry-Yoh-De-Lay-Hee-Hoo, it's Frankini!" the tall man followed the snappy order and introduced the villain with all the splendour he could want. One tug of the fancy rope and the curtains parted, revealing the vibrantly neon backdrop - plus the man himself in another outfit.

"Hey, boys--and pretty girl!" Frankini greeted them, opting for a contemporary beat with backing drums, not that the trio cared. All they noticed was the singing - more damn singing - and how he seemed to have that mischievous air about him again.

"Nice running into you at the park. What a show, exclamation mark!" He squealed with far too much enthusiasm for (y/n)'s liking, not forgetting that whilst he loved the non-stop musical, she'd lost out on a morning of fun-filled bliss with her dorky fiancé.

"Mind if I?..." she asked her lover sweetly, fluttering her eyelashes despite knowing he'd give or do anything for her. She didn't have to beg, but she did anyway because she was his good girl.

"Go for it," Ray growled, hoping her heavenly voice would sort that guy out. And even if it didn't, he would. No one called her pretty girl except for him because she was his cute girl.

"Hey, Frankini, not a fan!"

"Yeah!" (y/n) began, glaring at the twinkling villain in his stupidly patterned jacket. Although, in his head, the only stupid person around was that idiot lover of hers as he tried to sing backup.

"So me, Kid Danger and Captain Man--"

"Yeah!"

"Are gonna find a way to make this curse kerplop!"

"Yeah!" Ray tried to make his involvement seem cool, anything to prove to that walking glowstick that he gainfully loved Miss Danger and wasn't up for sharing. However, despite his best efforts, his additions weren't helpful; if anything, they kept disrupting her rhythm and made Frankini smirk more than cringe.

"Hey, doofus?"

"Yeah?" he asked with an adorable head tilted that melted (y/n)'s heart and she didn't have it in her to be mad. All he needed was a small reminder.

"You gotta stop!" She told him, holding his hands and bringing them to her chest for a second as she gave him her best smile, which eventually snapped him out of the weird trance he'd put himself in.

"Yeah!--Yeah, sweet girl. You know, as I was doing it, it felt kind of annoying," he mumbled, stumbling over his words as he cleared his throat and stood straight. To annoy her was unthinkable, and he'd stop everything and try to get back into her good books, so as she turned around to face the smirking Frankini again, he squeezed his arms around her and pecked her cheek in a rare display of weakness for The Captain.

"Anyway..." the coy criminal murmured, storing the image of Captain Man fawning over his lover like a lost puppy. He'd heard the rumours about him being head-over-heels, madly and badly in love with her, but it was much juicier than he'd seen before.

The great hero was just like any other man; proud when it came to himself, a fool when it came to the woman he gave his heart.

"You tried to punch me yesterday, but Frankini, no play that way. So if you want to fight, and you do fo'sho, here's how it's going to go," he sang, acting all mysterious in a way that made the heroes antsy for what he'd say next. "six, seven, eight..."

"Meet me here tonight! We′re gonna have a singing fight! You can bring anyone you know. Out-sing me, and the curse will go!" The tempo increased, and so did Frankini's dance level. He crisscrossed his arms and legs as he stepped to the beat, explaining that he'd give them a chance to play fair and square, but only if they did it by his rules and at his place, so it was that fair overall.

"Did I hear you wrong? You and us are gonna fight by song?!" Ray asked incredulously, feeling his stomach plummeting because the last time he'd tried out for a singing competition, it hadn't gone well.

"But you can bring a friend with you. Out-sing me, and the curse is through!" he repeated for clarity, ending on a high note that nearly shattered their ears until he moved on to the second info dump. And, much to Henry, (y/n) and Ray's horror, when he danced, so did they.

"And we′re gonna livestream it. It'd be a shame to do it alone! Yeah, we′re gonna livestream it to the Swellviewers at home. Well, well, well, meet me here tonight! We're gonna have a singing fight. You can bring anyone you know. Out-sing me--"

"Yeah!" Goomer interjected, loving the show put on by the friendly superheroes and his boss, but Frankini didn't appreciate his goofy laugh interrupting his powerful vocals. Kind of like how Ray didn't enjoy how his stomach churned at the thought of singing in a competition in front of an audience. Oh, hell no, he couldn't do that again.

"Shut up, Goomer!" he screeched, breaking his musical character for a second before returning for the big finale, "out-sing me--out-sing me, and the curse will go!"

"No, no, no, no!" the heroes chanted as they fought against the instinct to dance, but it was too strong. There went their chance at chewing out their enemy.

"'K, thanks, bye!" And with that, Frankini dipped, literally and figuratively, as Henry pressed a button to end the call, meaning they were free to catch their breath and think about what had just happened.

"We have to...sing?" (y/n) nervously asked as she shook off the feeling of embarrassment from hopping around the Man Cave like a moron, only for pure terror to set in at the thought of singing in front of an audience. Millions of people were watching, all of them waiting to hear her voice, scrutinising her every move, waiting to post on Twitflash that she was the funniest thing on TV - she couldn't do that, not without vomiting first.

And it seemed Ray wasn't so keen either. As the question left her mouth, he hunched over and loudly groaned, fists clenched so tight that his sidekicks could hear his gloves creaking. Millions of thoughts were swirling through his head, all of them taunting him, telling him that the past would return to haunt him, whispering that trying again was futile, threatening that all he would do was humiliate himself and those he loved most in the process - he couldn't do that, not without wrenching out his heart first.

"I need to use the bathroom...for a steam...shower," he announced abruptly, dropping (y/n)'s hand like a hot potato and rushing towards the secret door without a second look at his friend and beloved. He looked so pale and peaky; it made them worry, but when they called out, he couldn't answer. What kind of man was he?

"Dude, what are you--"

"Doofus, are you okay? I can shower...with you?" Henry and (y/n) asked behind him, wondering why the need to shower had come up so urgently--so urgently that he hadn't even kissed her on the cheek before he left. He always did that, no matter the day, time or place; he always left a reminder of his love before he left, and he'd ignored her offer of soaping her up--unthinkable. How badly did he need to steam?

"Guys, we saw everyth--jeez, watch it!" Charlotte gasped as she scrambled into the room, closely followed by Jasper and Schwoz. However, as they scuttled out from the secret door, Ray bolted into it, nearly knocking them over like skittles as he raced away from those who loved and cared about him. What was his problem?

"We saw everything! What are you guys going to do? Who are you going to take? Are you going to fight Frankini? Can you even sing like that?!" Jasper questioned as he barrelled up to the sidekicks, who were just as confused and panicky as he was. They couldn't make any solid plans until Ray returned, and even then, they didn't have any ideas.

"Don't know. Don't know. Yes, what other choice do we have? And we have no idea," (y/n) answered succinctly, hoping the rapid-fire responses would be enough to quell the boy's curiosity, but if anything, it made it and their nerves worse.

For ten minutes, fifteen, thirty, an hour, or maybe more, they didn't know, they paced around the Man Cave. Perhaps if they thought hard enough for long enough, someone would think of something, but as they bounced ideas off each other, they knew all they were doing was wasting time.

They knew nothing, and they had nothing. No plans, no backup, (y/n)'s tummy still hadn't stopped feeling like a bag of cats, and what's worse--they felt a song coming on.

"Who are we gonna bring? " They suddenly harmonised, throwing their concerns together as they began pacing grooves into the tiles. Couldn't they punch Frankini? At least that would make them feel better.

"We need help to fight Frankini!" Henry said to his fellow sidekick, and she wholeheartedly agreed. The only question was, who did they know would be good enough, willing to sing and ready to help them out?

"Who are we gonna bring?"

"By fight, he means out-sing!" (y/n) added, gulping the lump in her throat as she tangled her fingers together. Usually, she'd have them trapped with Ray's, but since he was taking a suspiciously long time in the bathroom, she had to settle for twisting her engagement ring instead.

"Who are we gonna briiiing?!"

"Ooh, I know!" Schwoz suddenly said, his eyes lighting up like the lightbulb in his head, and he swiftly scurried to the supercomputer. "I'll call my ex-girlfriend. She's a singing teacher!"

"Wait, didn't she say she'd break your legs if you ever tried to reach her?" (y/n) noted as quickly as he hurried over there. She remembered that girlfriend, the one he'd dated on and off when she and Ray were starting as a couple. She had a great voice, legs, and the ability to snap a man's femur like a toothpick after Schwoz broke her heart.

"She was just kidding!" Schwoz chuckled, but his gaunt face said everything. He remembered that girlfriend, too, significantly how she cut up his clothes and torched his inventions for saying her D major sounded like an E flat. "But, yah, let's be safe and keep thinking..."

"Guys...where's Ray?" Charlotte asked unexpectedly, clocking on that her friend had squirmed for long enough, yet the man still hadn't returned, making her suspicious. Sure, he liked long showers, everyone did, but he didn't like long showers without her, and even though the thought made her sick, the explanations she turned to made it worse.

"He said he was going to go take a steam shower," Schwoz reminded them cheerfully, thinking nothing of it, despite (y/n) twisting her ring so much that her finger was now sore. She didn't even know she did it until she looked later to see the red mark under the rose gold, but either way, the worry from not having him there to soothe her troublesome tummy was eating her from the inside out.

"That was like an hour and a half ago," the girl replied, thinking that his casual remark and (y/n)'s eery calmness wasn't right, but perhaps they were trying to see the best of things.

"Yeah, so he's, like, halfway done. That's how long it usually takes us," the woman replied absentmindedly, seeing nothing out of the ordinary since taking showers so long that the hot water ran out was normal for them. Whilst it was gross for the teens to hear, it raised an important point for Charlotte that she hadn't noticed in her little bubble.

"Yeah, when he's with you. Why's he taking so long by himself?" Charlotte pointed out, causing (y/n) to freeze her fingers around her ring and think - long and hard. Shit, she was right; what on Earth was Ray doing that meant he had to sit in the shower for that long? He might've been upset, scared, hurt, angry, lonely, confused or perfectly all right - she didn't know.

And that made her nervous - again.

"I should go check on him," she swallowed, telling her panicking mind that he'd probably lost track of time under the warm spray and would no doubt invite her to join him when she poked her head around the door so he could wash away the stress.

So, she moved for the sprocket, mumbling about calming down when the computer began to beep again, signifying another message...from a highly strange sender.

"It's a video message from Ray," Henry said as he read the on-screen text, frowning at the peculiar message. It didn't make much sense as they gathered around - unknowingly rallying around (y/n) as her stomach began to boil over. Something wasn't right; it felt like something was about to happen, but she couldn't grab it.

"He's sending us a message from the steam shower?" Jasper asked, also sounding sceptical, and the idea of seeing her boss naked, wet, naked, soapy and naked freaked Charlotte out.

"Nope," she said bluntly and immediately turned around and walked in the opposite direction. She'd listen in, but for all her love for (y/n), she couldn't watch Ray in the shower. It might've been a treat for the heroine, but she liked nightmare-free sleep.

So, the boys and (y/n) gathered around the computer as the genius pressed play on the video. Wait a minute... There he was, Ray, sitting in his civilian clothes with his hair all floofy, in some booth at what looked like a classic diner, judging by the fifties decor and spirited music.

"Hey, everybody...sweet girl," he started weakly, looking pale and drawn as sweat stuck to his forehead, and he nervously stared into the camera - or (y/n)'s soul since that's what it felt like. They stared at him with open mouths and beating hearts, wondering what he was playing at when they had work to do.

"You may have noticed by now that I am not in the steam shower. You have also noticed that I am not singing, and there's no music playing in the..." he said slowly and carefully as if every word was painful. However, he slipped up when the wireless behind him played the lively tune, contradicting his words and interrupting the sombre mood he tried to create.

So, he did what any heartbroken man would do - he punched it. And the music stopped instantly.

"And there's no music playing in the background. The reason I'm not singing is because I have left Swellview," he revealed, causing his friends to gasp in horror. Maybe it was a little showbusiness-like, but Henry's hand on (y/n)'s back was genuine and comforting as she trembled, unable to comprehend what he was saying.

"I don't understand..." she whispered, more to herself than anyone else since they were lost too, just not in the same way she was. Ray was her doofus and soulmate, and they were always together - what would she do if he wasn't there?

"Now, I know what you're thinking. Oooh, Ray's just running away because he's ashamed of what happened yesterday at The Swellview Summer Market!" the hero sneered in a whiny voice, acting all tough and uncaring, even though those were his exact feelings, which his family could easily guess. It didn't ease the heartache for (y/n).

"That's not why I left. I'm not ashamed. I left Swellview because I can't punch or kick my way out of this problem. You saw what happened yesterday at The Swellview Summer Market--I'm ashamed!" he snapped, and in true Ray fashion, his feelings began to surface in uncontrolled outbursts. That wasn't news to his friends, who shouted at the screen for him to wake up and get a grip, but it wasn't that simple.

"And (y/n), my sweet, sweet (y/n)," Ray swallowed, emotion gathering thickly in his throat as he swallowed and fought tears for the most challenging part of his rehearsed speech. He never thought he'd have to say such cruel things - never thought he'd heave to tear all of his hard work and heart to shreds - but it was a coward's bravest way out. To save a lady from a lifetime of misery.

"You know I love you more than anything, so I can't say this to you in person. It would just break my heart, darlin'," he paused and licked his dry lips, blinking his watery eyes as droplets fell to the table. If only he knew he was breaking hers...

"You deserve more than a man who runs away from his problems, and you deserve more than a coward who can't look you in the eye and say, I'm sorry, but...I can never return to Swellview."

"What?" she breathed out almost silently, frowning at his admission of self-imposed exile and how he so willingly through everything - his life, career, them - out of the window. He wouldn't--couldn't go back on every promise he'd ever made to her, could he? She loved him...

"I'm...letting you go, sweet girl," he forced out the words before they wedged in his throat and choked him, "you don't want to marry this," he carried on, gesturing to himself, "I've left you the Man Cave, the store--everything is yours, so go have a good life."

"Find someone who'll take care of you and make you happy. And believe me, it'll be their privilege 'cause you were my best twelve years..." Ray laughed bitterly, ignoring the pain in his throat and chest at the thought of someone else living his happily ever after by her side. But it was for the best; it had to be - he didn't deserve her purity after taking the easy route out.

"I love you. Always have, always will," he finished, knowing that if he didn't stop somewhere, he'd stretch the goodbye forever. He had to draw the line somewhere, and he carved the groove under the final thought he always returned to before clicking off the video. Her.

"What are we gonna do?" The family chanted as the screen faded to black, leaving their hero, God knows where, and they were stranded without hope or a prayer. (y/n) stood numbly as she carried on, staring at the monitor where she took the last few glimpses of her doofus.

Around her, she could hear the faint voices of her friends, wondering what their next move should be and how they would help get him back, but they sounded like they were underwater. Maybe she was drowning. It sure felt like that - the need to breathe and the struggle for oxygen, only to find it was gone when she needed it most.

His last words were, I love you, and after dwelling on them for what felt like hours, (y/n) found herself with a new determination.

Surely, that had to mean something, or at least she hoped it did; otherwise, this would be a lonely existence. She'd promised herself a long time ago that no matter what Ray did or where Ray went, she'd follow him to the ends of the Earth, tugged along by the invisible string tying her to him.

He was her soulmate, and she was lost without him. So, she wouldn't rest until she found him, not until she got to say those three little words back.

0 notes

bejoomi · 1 year

Photo

( ref vid - joomi as yeonjun)( with @behaneul @bejinyoung @kouxbe @bexcam )

it’s only been a short time but you continue to improve with every performance. it’s been amazing to see you come into your own over these weeks and we’re excited to see how you continue to develop.

that was the feedback seo ran gave him after his team’s performance of spark. he still feels...moved by it, but not enough to cry this time. strangely, he doesn’t feel pressure either. instead he feels a strange sense of...agreement. he can tell he’s grown, too, both in ability and confidence, the difference between his mentality for my turn and spark night and day.

a new challenge comes, though, as his team wins the round, and he’s safe from elimination: performing frost; singing and dancing at the same time once again. he hopes he doesn’t make seo ran eat her words.

the good news is most of the team from spark comes with him over to the team from frost. they’re missing seojun, but haneul felt like the glue that kept the team together then, and kou was much needed comic relief that lightened the atmosphere, something that was greatly needed sometimes. they’re the ones that join him, along with cam, and...moon jinyoung.

working with him proves nearly as challenging as combining singing and dancing during practice. there is an awkwardness that joomi wasn’t quite expecting. sure, they got off on a terrible foot, but joomi thought they made progress since then, and were friends, albeit tentatively. it doesn’t feel that way, though, with jinyoung so at ease with everyone else and so...cold around him.

it bothers him at first; far more than he wants it to. their parts, though, force them to work closely together. joomi realized that only after they settled on them, each of them assigned to a cosmo member so they could spend less time on line distribution and more on practicing. joomi has a part that has enough vocal lines, but not too much time in the center dancing. that means eyes should only really be on him while he’s singing, and that’s what he wants.

he also wants to remix the song, and thankfully, the rest of the team is open to it when he brings it up. he knows, in theory, he should dedicate any time he spends messing with the track to improving his dancing instead, but it’ll be a nice break and opportunity for him to fall back on what he loves most. it’s something special he can contribute, too, and a skill he considers one of his best that he hasn’t shown off on next gen at all yet. he wants to do it at least once.

he’s pretty free to do what he wants, and ends up making their new instrumental even darker than frost’s original, more dramatic and a little creepy. he thinks it’s what they need, though; performing frost as it is at this stage in the competition feels lackluster, especially when he suspects the other teams will be taking advantage of their own creative freedom and switching it up.

when he nervously presents the demo of his remix, his voice over the new instrumental, the rest of the team likes it. joomi’s relief in that moment rivals the relief he felt when he was finally finished with my turn.

they talk more then, about their concept: the slow descent of princes into madness, but...zombies. it matches the slight lean of joomi’s instrumental towards horror, and it’s unique. it’s exciting.

as the days go on, he and jinyoung become a little more comfortable with each other, too. or joomi makes that up in his head so he can practice with him without that lingering frustration and anger that only proved as a distraction. they aren’t as friendly as joomi would like, or thought they might’ve been able to be, but they can work together, and for this purpose, that’s all that matters. jinyoung helps joomi with his dancing, and joomi helps jinyoung with his singing, and despite everything, they both improve.

on the day of the performance, strangely, joomi feels at his most confident yet. maybe it’s not necessarily confidence, but it’s excitement; excitement for everyone to see their performance, albeit nervous that they won’t like it. at least they tried to do something unique to stand out, though.

he’s barely even afraid he’ll mess up his dancing. it’s still tiring to make it through the entire routine of singing and dancing, but not nearly as difficult as it was before, and joomi knows he won’t forget the moves. they’re ingrained into his mind and muscles by now; it’s just a matter of staying on beat and in synch enough with the others.

he thinks he can do it, though, and if not, he’ll do his best. he can’t do worse than he already has on this show.

he has that familiar feeling he did when he performed my turn, though, when he gets into formation on the stage, waiting for their track to start: the new burst of nerves, but he tells himself they’ll go away once the performance actually starts. it’s like the build up of a roller coaster; anticipation that is equal parts good and bad.

maybe it’s scary because he is the one in the front to open up the performance.

their track plays. it’s ambient noise first, then static, and he stands up slowly. by the second static sound, he tries to feel it in his entire body, and jerks forward with it. come the third static sound, he does the same, and buries his face in his hands. one more, and he violently rolls his neck, then steps aside, sure to give the camera a wild look as he does.

he felt stupid at first, practicing expressions and trying to appear so crazed, but once he got over the initial weirdness, it was sort of fun to get into it. it’s the same now, and then the attention is onto jinyoung for a moment, and joomi can take a brief breath. then, jinyoung’s hand is on his throat, and he falls to the floor.

he sings the first real lines of the song, too.

spring's here but warmth is nowhere to be found sharp needles sprout out the window

jinyoung takes over then, and his voice has grown significantly since the start of their practices.

meanwhile, joomi gets to sit on the ground for a little longer and take in as much air as he can before he stands up, gets into line with the others, and starts dancing.

focus is on him again for the prechorus, where he stands in the middle of the others. he tries his best to look sufficiently deranged and jerk his head to the right in time with the others, because after all, he sings,

faint voices don’t know why my fate is what? what’s the right answer? really lost my mind really really really lost it

then, for the chorus, all he has to do is dance in the back. thank god. it’s not too difficult, and the fact that he can even think that borders on miraculous.

it’s in the post-chorus instrumental that he has to step up to the plate again, and he puts that crazed look back on his face in advance. he should probably just keep it on the whole time, actually. admittedly, it’s a little hard to stay in character and make sure he breathes right to get through the performance without sounding too out of breath.

kou starts off the second verse, and then comes the part that joomi is actually most afraid of: jinyoung grabs his shoulder, and he turns around, grabs jinyoung by the back of his neck himself, and rotates them. then comes his nemesis: the spin, however easy it should be. it proved a challenge for him all throughout practice, and his voice still isn’t remarkably steady as he does spin (is it even possible?) but he doesn’t overspin, and ends up in the right position. he does it all while singing:

only freezing wind to greet me somber flower in lightless ice

more relief comes when it’s over, and cam takes over the singing.

his next part comes in the prechorus again, that same joker-like smirk on his lips.

really lost my mind really really really lost it

haneul leads them in the second chorus, and joomi ignores how tired he feels and tries to compensate by keeping some of the darkness of their performance in his eyes, so he’ll at least look into it if anybody, for some reason, looks at him dancing in the back.

the end of the song is actually his favorite part; at least sonically. the bridge is light and elegant compared to the rest, and when the music pause a beat for him to say,

am i ready for this?

he really means are you ready for this? because he thinks the build up to the final chorus is good and dramatic and fitting for the finale of their performance. still, he tries to keep in mind that this is their final form, too: crazed zombie, final shreds of their humanity fading.

the outro, essentially a dance break, is difficult with how tired and heavy his body feels, and he’s not in the back this time, even if he’s still not the central focus. he hopes it’s fine, though, if his body looks a little tired; he’s supposed to be a zombie, after all, and he still gets through all the moves until they drop down to the floor.

maybe the hardest feat of the entire performance is standing back up for their final pose, the goodbye of the back track, and one final deranged look at the camera.

unlike my turn, he actually makes it off stage without collapsing immediately afterwards. he’s just looking forward to getting to sit down.

#be:ngs1p4 #–– solo #–– nextgen #–– frost

0 notes

Last Seen Blogs

kthlq

baby boy

jxoxsxsxi

misslouder

Misslouder

spriesisme

SPRIES

yagizkck-blog

öylesine kurulmuş bir hesap fazla şey etmeyin