#she acts exactly like an obsessive fan would if they somehow got put into an anime with all their favorite characters | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hansensgirl · 3 years

Text

push it to the limit.

summary. | As he watches you ogle the man who would pop champagne moments before touching heaven, he puts his foot on the gas pedal and his hand on one of the levers, ready to push it to the limit. Maybe this time, you’ll finally notice him.

warnings. | Non/Dubcon, watersports, obsessive behaviour, coercion, bribery, dark themes, drinking (champagne), hate fucking, unprotected sex, rough sex, public sex, dumbification, degradation, dirty talk, humiliation, breeding kink, choking, allusions to anal, reader is really rude (so is Niki), *sexism/misogyny/paying for sex (see a/n), and more. 18+, MINORS DNI.

word count. | 8.4k

pairings. | Dark!Niki Lauda x Reader, James Hunt x Reader (it’s one-sided).

author’s note. | please enjoy, and please don’t forget to reblog! if you take ANY inspiration from my fics (i’ll know, trust me) and you don’t give credit, you will be blocked and i’ll let others know. *he talks about paying you for sex as a way to degrade you, it’s brief and in german! it does not reflect anything about me or my blog. we are pro-sex work here! it’s just fiction.

“Look! There he is!” a small voice tells you, pointing somewhere with a great distance. You’re not sure how he manages to spot his favourite racer from so far. Among the sea of heads, your younger brother sits on your shoulders. You can feel him touching you down to your bones, and you try to ignore the pain just for him. “You sure? You said that five times before, y’know,” you denote, and you hear the six-year-old groan. “Yes, I’m sure! Look, he’s drinking that nasty stuff like always,” he adds, and you realize he’s talking about James’s signature champagne.

“It’s not nasty,” you mumble under your breath, remembering the way the pleasant liquid felt and tasted against your tongue. Sticky gold is what you’d describe it as, and you recall how it stained your skin. Shaky hands are bound to tremor even more under pressure, and your friend is an absolute clutz. It’s no wonder she made such a mess, as it is one of her best traits. But a particular pair of hands that seemed to have Midas’s touch cleaned you up, and you still to this day wish you were awake to thank them. You have many regrets, but that’s just a small one.

“Can we go closer to the fence? I want to try and talk to him,” your brother politely requests, and you let out a heavy sigh. Your mouth is pressed in a line, and you begin to shift your feet. You’ve got boots made of suede, a brown colour that always seems to go best with your all-black outfits. There’s a matching jacket on you as well, and it has fur on the cuffs and collar.

“What’s the marvel of watching it in person rather than watching it on television? Out here, we struggle so much, and you can barely even watch them properly. On the television, well, you see it all, and you can be as comfortable as you want,” you wonder out loud, and the child holds onto you tightly. He squeezes your head tightly, and the ribbon in your hair begins to fall in your face. It’s white silk, with a lovely hem to it. You save it for these races your sibling always wants to go to. Your other coloured ones are left for daily excursions, and sometimes a good party, too.

“Excuse me!” you loudly call out, and other women cast you nasty glares. You’ve seen those same looks one too many times, and you don’t pay any mind to them. If they truly care about their spots, they’d stand up and fight for them. But they’re just like babies with a piece of candy in their tiny fists. Maybe a jellybean, or perhaps even a pack of those oh so enjoyable Sour Patch Kids. “Why do you like only him?” you ask, raising both your eyebrows as you get closer to the fence. “I like James and Niki!” he exclaims loudly, and you loop your fingers between the holes of the fence.

“Niki? As in Niki Lauda? That arrogant, Austrian asshole?” you question in shock, not minding your foul language at all. “Yes! The guy that Dad hates. He’s cool, and he’s fast,” he explains, rolling his eyes. “Honestly? There’s nothing cool about him. He’s just… fast. James is the cool one,” you argue, and you can hear him groaning. “You like James Hunt because he looked at you that one time,” he snaps back in annoyance, and you sigh dreamily in remembrance. “Exactly! Now I need to look for Niki, I wanna say hi to him!” your brother exclaims, and your eyes scan the entrance area for Niki Lauda.

“Don’t just say hi to him; ask him for an autograph! We can sell it to one of his fans afterwards. They’re always dying for anything of his,” you propose, and your brother simply ignores the swindling ways that you’ve inherited from your grandfather since you were a kid. It’s the reason why you tend to find purses with deep pockets and smooth zippers that don’t pinch on the inner fabric. You reach into your bag, and you grab a marker that you’ve always got with you.

The crowd gets louder and louder, almost as if you’ve got headphones on your head and you want to turn down the volume, but you keep hitting the wrong button. A woman shrieks in your left ear, and a man whoops in the other. More bodies press against you, and with the marker in between two of your digits, you hope that you don’t return home with billions of bruises. On the big screen, recaps from the previous races are being played. It’s win after win, all on behalf of Niki Lauda and his incredible luck that doesn’t seem to have any end.

You’re finally able to make out what people are screaming; the curly-haired man’s name. “Niki! I love you!” they all shout, and you wonder if any of them like James. It seems like you haven’t found your people, and maybe just for today, you’re the odd one out. “Seems like you’re not the only one that has Niki amongst their favourites,” you grumble, and your brother lets out a giggle. A few moments later, he sits up far more proper on your shoulders. The hand with the marker in it grabs onto one of his legs, and you make sure he doesn’t fall down and ends up being the true loser of this race.

“Niki! I’m your biggest fan!” he shouts at the top of his lungs, using his full voice and then some. You look over to the entrance, and you spot the brooding Austrian wrapped in red walking out with a deep frown on his face. You fight the urge to roll your eyes, but your brother doesn’t care about your deep annoyance towards his idol. Niki shoots a look over to where you’re both standing, and your brother waves his arms from side to side, trying to get the racer’s attention. Even if he doesn’t, you have a feeling that Niki will be more displeased than anything.

It only makes sense, as he always acts that way with his fans though they’re the only people who appreciate him.

His nose is upturned, and he tries to pinpoint your brother and his powerful screams. High-pitched yet so loud, it’s no wonder why his tantrums are the root for almost all household headaches. “He’s looking over here,” you tell him, and your brother nods. “Yeah, because of me! He’s going to come, and I’m going to meet him!” he squeals, somehow connecting none existent dots to fuel a form of hope that dwindles inside him. You can be mean, but you’re not cruel. So you won’t be a realist, and you’ll let the youth on your shoulders believe what he wants to think.

“And when you meet him, ask him to sign something,” you advise, not letting go of your chance to make a few hundred dollars. He doesn’t say anything, but you know he’s pondering whether or not he should do it. “Niki! I love you!” the woman next to you screams as if she’s using every bit of her energy to get him to notice her. Your head already starts to ache just a bit, and you wish you brought some form of a pain killer. Niki saunters over to the fence, and for some reason, you don’t feel proper behind the fence.

It’s the way he carries himself with the highest of heads, a sort of confidence dragging with his every step. He knows he can do anything right now, and everybody except you would love him for it. He could make an entire turn and not greet his fans, and they’ll laugh it off. You’ve witnessed his haughtiness, and there’s no doubt inside you that you’ll see it again. “Niki! Good luck on the race!” a person says, and the rest of the crowd laughs at them.

“Dude, he doesn’t need your luck,” someone next to them says before elbowing the poor fan’s ribs. You can hear them wince in pain before they start to scream at the racer once again. Niki raises his hands up to his chest, almost as if he’s surrendering to something. That bratty smirk of his is replaced by a cheerful smile, and while everyone adores it, you see right through the façade. “Hello, everyone!” he greets, and you already want to roll your eyes until they fall back into your skull.

Niki stands right in front of you, and you try to look somewhere other than his face. Your view darts wildly until you finally settle on looking at the exceptionally boring asphalt underneath your feet. The screaming quiets down, and you wonder if everything is okay. “Uhm, Mr. Niki Lauda? I love you! I’m such a big fan! I watch all of your races, and I try to go to them all! Can I have an autograph?” your brother gleefully expresses, and you snap your head up at his words.

Much to your dismay, you lock gazes with the man you hate most in this entire stadium. His eyes are rather dull, yet they’ve got a sort of darkness in them that makes you feel just a tad bit uneasy. Both begrudgingly and excitedly, you hand the marker to your brother, who, in turn, gives it to his idol. Niki takes it gratefully, and he raises his least dominant hand. The other fans try to reach for it, for him. But he ignores them, and he gives a high-five to your brother.

You can’t hear the sound of their palms meeting because the displeasure of the crowd drowns it all out. “What do you want me to write it on?” Niki questions, taking the cap off of the marker. “Uhm, my shirt?” he offers, stretching the red fabric towards the elder. You observe as the racer awkwardly signs his name on your brother’s clothing, and you know that your Mother is going to be more than angry. Your Father, on the other hand, will be filled with pride and excitement.

“Thank you so much!” the child squeals, and Niki simply waves his hand as if it was no big deal to him. But you know that deep down inside, he was probably a bit annoyed. “Do you want an autograph, Miss?” Niki asks, and you take note of how his demeanour has changed. His features are softer, and his eyes seem to be lit up. “Oh, uh, no, thank you. I’m waiting for James. I love him a lot,” you tell him, pushing your shoulders back in confidence. The people around you let out gasps, and they follow their sounds up with whispers that aren’t so hushed.

Niki’s face drops, and you give him your fakest smile. He stares at you, almost as if he wants to lash out and scream. Maybe even call you a name or two. “That’s alright,” he assures after a while, and you have the urge to say something snarky. He hands the marker back to your brother, who is too busy being in awe of his favourite racer to listen to you being on your worst behaviour. Niki walks off, but this time, his stride lacks his boldness. “He’s so cool!” your brother squeals, staring at the Sharpie. You sigh, knowing that you two will constantly butt heads over Niki.

“Well, I beg to disagree.”

“Niki! Is everything okay?” one of the mechanics asks, and the star nods his head mindlessly. Instead of pressing him for some sort of answer, he leaves Niki alone to mull all by himself. There is not one person who dares to talk to him before the race unless it has to do with the car or the competition itself. It’s out of pure fear because nobody likes to face the Austrian’s wrath. From screaming way too loudly to piercing, uncomfortable stares, he never knows how to properly communicate with others.

He gazes at you from just a few mere metres away. His eyes are like ice, and he hopes you can feel the coldness from where you are. He really fucking hopes you do. You’ve got that sultry look to you, and it’s not cast towards him. No, it isn’t at all, and it irks him all the way to his bones. You ogle James fucking Hunt. Of all the other inferior racers there, you choose to admire James, and Niki hates you both for that. At every single race, he’s seen you show up to, you never look at him.

You don’t acknowledge him at all. It doesn't just hurt his ego; it also breaks his heart. Your preference and love for the Englishman injure those butterflies inside Niki’s stomach, and yet they still continue to flutter. The funniest, most ironic part of everything is that the races you attend always end with Niki being the winner. Never James. But you still idolize him over the Austrian, and he’s tired of it.

“Make sure it goes fast, okay? Fast, but nothing should catch on fire or malfunction,” Niki tells his technicians, and they halt what they’re doing. “But, Sir-” one of them starts, and Niki closes his fist for them. “No,” he simply states before crossing his arms once again. Niki looks back over to you, and you’ve now got a smile on your face. He loves the sight, but he knows his adoration will turn sour in a few seconds once he follows your line of gaze. So he chooses not to, and he decides to use you as his motivation.

The racers all go to their cars, and they pull their helmets on. Some are dressed in black, some in white, and only two in red. James and Niki. Niki is surrounded by his team, and James has twice the number of people next to him. Along with mechanics are girls in short skirts with jackets similar to yours. Deep down, you wish you could switch places with one of them, but maybe it isn’t as good as it seems to be. Perhaps your spot behind the fence with your younger sibling is what’s meant for you.

Your neck is more than exhausted. Your shoulders have a unique pain to them, one that not even doctors can begin to describe. Your bones are in desperate need of a crack, and your muscles crave a lengthy stretch that’ll leave you shaking. Yet, you continue to stand there with no complaints ready to fly off your tongue. The whooping behind you is so loud, but you’ve gotten used to it. “C’mon, Niki! You can do it!” your brother cries out, clapping his hands in excitement.

Niki flashes a thumbs up, and he looks at you one last time. As he watches you ogle the man who would pop champagne moments before touching heaven, he puts his foot on the gas pedal and his hand on one of the levers, ready to push it to the limit. Maybe this time, you’ll finally notice him. Perhaps this time, you’ll realize he’s the best racer there is. He takes a deep breath, and he reassures himself that he’ll win as always.

“I have a feeling Niki is going to win this one,” the lady next to you says, and her friends nod their heads in utter agreement. You want to ask why she thinks that, but you’ve already left a bad taste in the crowd’s mouth. “Do you think Niki will win?” you ask your brother, looking up at him as best as you can. “I think so, but maybe James will surprise us!” he predicts, and you nod your head. “I hope James wins,” you whisper under your breath. Your bottom lip falls victim to your teeth, and you gnaw on it out of stress.

You keep your sights on James, and occasionally, you glance at Niki. Perhaps it’s simply just morbid curiosity that’s eating at you because there’s no way you’d just casually look at a man you despise with all your heart. As all the racers go to their designated spots in their cars, excitement fills your stomach. But it’s mixed with fear, as anything can go wrong at these tracks, and that’s the last thing you want to happen. You get lost in your thoughts, thinking about all possibilities.

Who will win? Who will get hurt? Who will get angry? Who will become sad? You ask yourself all these questions that don’t truly matter much to your life, and yet you still try to find an answer inside of you.

Suddenly, the sound of engines revving and then taking off fills your ears. Screams follow them up, and you realize that the race has started. You wait until every single car leaves your view before looking at the scoreboard. You can’t bear to watch them risk their lives while you stand not so comfortably yet safe behind a fence. “Oh my God! James is in the first place!” you squeal like a kid in a candy store, and your brother claps.

Some of the people around you cheer for James, and others for Niki. But you ignore them, and you simply focus on what the orangish-yellow neon lights say. Some names switch spots rapidly, perhaps too quickly for you to keep up with. But you stay trained on the upper two; I. HUN, II. LAU. The former stays on top for most of the race, and the latter switches with him every now and then. “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon,” you nervously mumble, hoping that the Englishman stays on top.

“Seems like your favourite is going to win,” the known lady cleverly smirks, and you give her the side-eye. “Yes, because he’s good at what he does,” you confidently agree, hoping that you won’t have to eat your words in the next few minutes. She chuckles before shaking her head. “No wonder you don’t like Niki Lauda,” she expresses, shaking her head practically in some form of awe. “What are you talking about?” you annoyingly press, already growing tired of whatever conversation she’s trying to make.

“You’re both egotistical and full of yourselves. You do it because that’s who you are, and Niki does it for his own reasons, like pure enjoyment. It’s so obvious for you to dislike him because he’s a reflection of you, and you hate that,” she states, proud of herself for whatever reasons. “That’s dumb, and so are you. He does it because that’s who he is. I do it because I don’t like some people—such as yourself—and because I have plenty of reasons to be prideful. Not egotistical,” you snap, and she raises her hands as if she’s surrendering.

“Sure, whatever you say.”

Your mood has turned absolutely irritable, and the bitterness has claimed you entirely. You realize that you haven’t checked the places since before speaking to the lady, and you get excited. Flicking your head up, you expect to have your preferred person’s name at the very top, but instead, you see the name of the one and only Niki Lauda. I. LAU, II. HUN. “No, no, no!” you panic, watching as James stays in second place. None of the names change places at all, and you find yourself to be absolutely crushed. “Yes, yes, yes!” the crowd cheers and your face has fallen in disappointment.

Niki’s name gets announced, and everyone is absolutely elated. Everyone apart from you. Your brother celebrates the win from his high spot, and everybody jumps for joy. You stay silent, and you try your hardest to not swallow your pride. Each driver gets out of their cars slowly, and they congratulate the Austrian with smiles on their faces. You stare at him callously before you notice that James is still grinning. Despite not winning entirely, he never actually lost. So there’s no reason for you to be so dull and gloomy.

He walks off with his posse of men and women, and you realize maybe it’s time for you to head home as well. “So, your favourite won,” you say to your brother, and he giggles. “Yep! And yours lost!” he jokes, and you let out a forced giggle. “Yeah, yeah,” you brush off, making your way through the energetic body of people you strongly dislike.

Niki is engulfed in overly suffocating hugs. Some hands shake him, and some even slap him on the back, not so lightly. He doesn’t know which pairs belong to which bodies, and yet he goes with them all anyway. “You did great, Niki!” one voice praises. “Yeah, great job, Niki!” another adds. He thanks everybody in one sentence, and he pulls away once they start to mingle amongst themselves. The fantastic win of his isn’t what’s on his mind. It’s the thing that’s been etched and burned into his brain for him to think about, even though it should be appreciated now.

No. You’re what’s on Niki’s mind, and he has no intention of letting you leave.

He looks over at the swarm of heads that may have drowned you, and he can’t find you there. Not one trace of you is left behind, and his blood boils. Do you truly hate him to the point where you can’t even stay back for a few more seconds? Niki swears in Austrian under his breath, and he frustratingly walks over to the crowd. Fingers that aren’t yours reach out for him, and he ignores them all. “Have any of you seen that woman with the little boy on her shoulders?” he angrily questions, cracking his knuckles in anticipation.

His heart is still clamouring wildly in his chest, practically beating against him to be let out. “Uhm, she just left… She went that way! But I could easily replace her if you want…” a woman flirts, and Niki completely ignores her words after he gets what he wants. He leaves abruptly, and they are still yelling after him. “So eine verdammte Schlampe. Ich kann es kaum erwarten, dir eine Lektion zu erteilen, du hast darum gebettelt, seit ich dich gesehen habe,” he grumbles, walking through the crowded entrance.

Niki emerges with perseverance and even more anger than before. He searches through the sea of racing enthusiasts, and he spots you being bent over. It’s a wildly lewd position for you to be in, and Niki finds himself feeling flushed and displeased at the way you let others leer at you. He should be the only one to see you that way, nobody else. The Austrian wants to storm his way to you, to grab you and drag you somewhere more private so that he can put you in your place, but he knows the current setting isn’t right.

“Uhm, Mr. Lauda? Would you like a drink in honour of your win? It’ll be on us!” a shy waitress offers, appearing out of nowhere. He jumps in fear, but he quickly calms down. “Well…” he ponders, even though he’s not a fan of drinking after a race. In a trice, the lightbulb in his brain goes off. It shines brightly, and a clever idea starts to nag him. “Do you, uh, mind doing me a favour? I’ll even pay you extra,” he quickly prompts, and the waitress smirks. “Sure!” she agrees, carefully balancing the glasses on her tray.

“I need you to take all these glasses—maybe add some more champagne and make sure they’re really full—to that person over there,” he instructs, pointing to where you are. He watches as you wave to your family, who drives off without you. “The one with the brown jacket?” she double checks, and he nods in assurance. “Yeah, that one. Take them to her, and tell her they’re from someone who adores her and her love for champagne quite a bit,” Niki directs while trying to hold in a villain-like laugh.

“Ok! Then I just leave?” she asks, tilting her head innocently. “Yes. And don’t mention my name or anything about me at all,” he adds quickly before placing a hundred-dollar bill on the tray. The waitress slips it into her pocket before walking to where you’re standing idly. Niki watches the innocent worker make her way towards you until he realizes he should hide away before she makes a mistake.

“Excuse me, ma’am? Hi, I have something for you,” a waitress tells you, and you furrow your eyebrows in confusion. “I- What? I never ordered anything, I think you have the wrong person,” you tell her, turning your back and facing elsewhere. “No! I have the right person. They said they’re someone who adores you and your love for champagne!” she gleefully clarifies, and only one person comes to mind. James. You let out an excited, eager gasp. One that can’t be rivalled by any of Niki’s fans from his win.

She hands you the two full glasses, and you can just tell that the golden liquid is of high quality. You get drunk quickly, perhaps a little too easily. But that’s never stopped you from enjoying yourself at all. “Thank you so much! Oh, and I’m sorry for being rude at first,” you softly whisper to her, and she simply waves you away. “No worries,” she reassures, and she walks off before you can finish your first glass.

Tilting your head back, you bring the first flute to your mouth and you down everything it has to offer in just a few gulps. The drink slides down your throat with such ease. It’s brut, and it has a sort of bitter yet sweet taste to it. Sighing, you smack your lips and take whatever is left of the first glass gratefully. You then switch the glasses around with shaky yet skillful hands. “Thank you, James, for being such a lovely guy,” you murmur to yourself, dragging out the last letters of each word.

The alcohol quickly settles inside you, and it starts to distort you as always. Blurry eyes and a hazy mind, you’ve turned into a drunken mess in a matter of a few seconds. You slowly sip on your second and last glass before your temptations grow tired of your sluggishness. You down the entire thing until there’s a small drop at the bottom that just won’t budge. You let out a tiny sound of amazement, and you find yourself wanting to have some more. You lick your lips, trying to search for a slight hint of the sort of melon flavour until it goes away.

“Uhm? Does anyone know where that waitress went?” you ask loudly, and those who hear you shake their heads ‘no.’ “Damn,” you frustratingly mutter, lightly stomping your foot against the concrete. You roll your head backwards, in both a stretch and a habit. Your mind feels heavy, but your bones and muscles are even more burdensome. You bring your skull back to its normal position, and you decide to go look for her. Stumbling clumsily, you walk back into the dreaded arena where everyone is still celebrating Niki Lauda’s victory.

Niki watches you amongst a crowd of fans who are trying to form some sort of discussion with him. They hound him with all kinds of questions, some about the race itself and some about the esteemed racer and his personal life. Like a hunter stalking his prey, his eyes stay trained on you until you disappear behind the red door that leads to rooms that only named people are allowed to go to. “So, what are you going to do now, Mr. Lauda? How are you going to celebrate?” one of them asks, with a sort of sultry tone to their voice that he fails to notice.

“I have plans with a friend of mine for tonight,” he briefly states before pushing through them and following you into the stadium. “Can I join?” another asks, and he simply ignores them as they call after Niki with even more curiosity. It’s not hard to spot someone in bright red overalls suddenly walking into somewhere he shouldn’t be, but it’s easy to pay no mind to him because he’s a champion and most people who see him aren’t.

“Where, where, where are you, kleine Maus?” he hauntingly calls out, and his voice echoes back. Niki can hear the sound of your shoes clicking against the ground, and he decides to follow it. He tries his hardest to calm his heart down, but it’s hard to both hold your breath and make sure you’re not nearing cardiac arrest. The racer quickens the paces of his feet, practically jogging towards you as you decide to turn around and forget about the champagne.

Your jacket slips off your shoulders as you whip your body around, and suddenly, you’re pushed against a wall. The brick is painted over with a sort of cream colour. You begin to panic as strong hands keep you from fighting your attacker. “Du bellst wohl nicht nur, kleine Maus,” he notes out loud, and you don’t understand a word of what he’s saying. The voice is familiar, though, except for the fact it’s a few octaves deeper than you last heard.

“Niki?” you question, halting your flailing fists and restless legs. “Yes, kleine Maus?” the man questions and your jaw drops in shock. “What the fuck?! Are you insane? Get off of me!” you scream loudly, and his hopes of getting you still begin to die like a flower in the wintertime. Niki grabs ahold of your wrists in his dominant hand, and he swiftly turns you around and stomps on your ankles. “Help!” you cry out, but his other hand presses your face against the wall.

“Shut up, shut the fuck up,” he orders in your ear, pushing your white ribbon out of your face. You listen to him, but you disobey his commands at the same time. Writhing around, you try to escape the claws that squeeze you tightly, and you fail miserably. “Cute. Now stop fighting me, or else I’ll hurt you so badly you wouldn’t be able to go to anyone for help,” he threatens, and you gulp thickly in fear. Your saliva tastes of alcohol still, and you regret ever coming to the race.

“Good girl. See? That wasn’t so hard. All you need to do is listen to me,” Niki instructs, talking down to you like you’re some child who doesn’t know any better. “Why?” you choke out through gritted teeth. Your cheekbones rub against the brick, and the pain is gruesome. “Because I need to put you in your place. Do you seriously think you can just mouth off to me like that? To disrespect me like that? To prefer that pathetic racer over me?” he asks, and you let out a whimper. Each of his words sinks into you like needles filled with anesthesia.

They numb your mind until you realize what’s really happening, but by then, it’s too late.

“Well, obviously, I prefer James over you! Look at you, you’re rude, and you’re a horrible, shitty person. Now get off of me!” you lash out, even though your body doesn’t move. Niki simply laughs like a maniac, and you find yourself wanting to take back your words. “Maybe I’m so rude because I like you. Like how little boys tease little girls when they have crushes. You do know what a crush is, right? Just making sure since you’re so cold-hearted. Bet you don’t know anything other than hatred,” he spits, and you’re pretty offended.

“I know what you’re talking about! I’ve had feelings for people, okay?” you bite back, and Niki becomes curious. “Really? Let me guess. James Hunt? Some old boyfriend of yours? A man at a party who cleaned you up because you don’t know how to take care of yourself?” the Austrian questions, and you don’t realize who he’s talking about until you look at his hands. They’re the same as those gracious ones, except they’re more rough and lack gentleness. “That was you?” you ask, and you’ve lost all fight in your body at the realization.

“Well, of course, kleine Maus. Someone had to watch your back, and that someone is me! Du bist nicht so klug, wie du dich selbst darstellst, ganz ehrlich. But that’s okay, it’ll be okay. It’ll be just alright now that I’m here to put you in your place,” he reassures you, and you don’t even have the energy to ask him what he means. “Look, I’m sorry, I really am. I’ve learnt my lesson now, can you let me go? I won’t tell anyone, Sir, I promise!” you plea and your words start to blur into one another.

“I don’t think you’re sorry, kleine Maus. I need to do what’s necessary because I’m fucking tired of you and your bullshit,” Niki snaps, and you whimper from the harsh tone of his words. His change in behaviour gives you whiplash, and you realize that there’s no way out of whatever he has planned for you. “So careless, so mean, so ignorant… So clumsy. I guess you aren’t as independent or as strong as you claim to be,” he whispers, and he causes tears to sting your almost empty eyes. They hurt, and they carry such maliciousness to them that you can’t help but be terrified of Niki.

A hand comes up to the waist of your jeans. They flare out at the bottom, and well, they look pretty damn good on you. But maybe a little too good because they make Niki think wild thoughts. He expertly takes the buttons out of their holes, and he unzips your rusted zipper. “P- Please, Niki,” you beg one last time, but Niki ignores you. He pulls down your pants against your protests, and he lets them get tangled with your tired feet. Your bare ass is exposed to the cool air of the arena, and goosebumps begin to rise on your skin.

“Such a lovely ass, kleine Maus. Maybe I should fuck it instead of doing what I had planned. Would you like that?” Niki politely asks, and your eyes nearly fall out of your skull. “N- No, thank you, Niki,” you shakily reject, and he nods. “You see, unlike you, I’m not so mean. So I’ll spare you, but only this once,” he cheerfully tells you, acting as if you’re supposed to start jumping up and down at his words. The closest thing to gratitude he’ll ever get from you is silence.

Niki still has a tight grip on your hands, and with your legs now immobilized from the mess by your feet, you can’t do much to save yourself. He wraps his arm around your waist, and he grabs at the crotch of your panties with no care at all. The cotton bunches up, and his fingers graze lightly against your folds. You try to ignore his touch, but he does the opposite and forces you to focus on it. He’s frozen, and you’re waiting for his next malevolent move. You can hear his heavy breathing, and he angles his digits upwards so he can touch you even more.

You press a fist against the wall, and you try to brace yourself as best as you can. Unexpectedly, a fierce pain strikes you in your hips, and it hurts more than you can describe. His hand has left you, and you can feel the air breeze against your pussy. Your panties are on the floor, ripped into a shred of fabric that no longer has any good use other than reminding you of how you could’ve avoided this entire situation. “I’ll get you better ones, don’t worry,” he reassures you in a humorous manner, and you squeeze your eyes shut in annoyance.

Instead of having your hips jut out for easy access, he pushes your torso against the wall until there’s a pressure inside your stomach. Instead of pain, it’s a sort of tingling sensation that makes your eyes bulge out in shock. “Uhm...” you hesitate, and his ears perk up. “What is it?” he frustratingly asks you, and his harsh tone snivelling. “N- Nevermind,” you mumble, and you just try to take deep breaths. “Are you ever going to shut up?” Niki questions as his other hand skillfully unzips his red overalls.

He’s wearing a simple pair of shorts and a t-shirt for the hot weather and occasional coolness. You keep quiet, not sure if you should answer him or not. Niki grumbles in another language that you don’t understand, and you realize that no matter what you do, you’ll always make him angry. Even your begging doesn’t bring you any fruits of labour. Only disappointment.

His shorts join the pile of clothing on the ground, many colours clashing that leave his eyes to be sore. Sunset pink panties, pale blue jeans, vibrant red overalls, and black shorts. It’s a fashionista’s worst nightmare. His hard cock is left in his boxers, and he’s just too impatient to fully undress. He throbs out of want and need, with a swollen tip that leaks with pre-cum. “I know this isn’t so… What’s the word you people use? ...Ah, romantic! I know this isn’t so romantic, but it’s not supposed to be. I’m the only one who’s supposed to enjoy this, not you. So I don’t care if you want to fake a smile or anything like that, all you need to do is not say anything,” he explains, and you nod your head.

“O- Okay, Niki,” you assure, and he lets out a groan that is followed by his tongue clicking against his pearly teeth. “Dumb whore,” he spits, and his hand wraps around your throat. You’re inebriated beyond belief, and you don’t realize he can crush your windpipe in a split second until he whispers in your ear. “Can’t do one thing right, can you?” he retorts. The grip he has on your wrists suddenly loosens up, but you’re too sluggish to fight him. And even if you try, you’ll end up a pathetic loser with even less honour than before.

The fat tip of his large cock presses against your mildly slick pussy. “You’re already wet for me, kleine Maus! Oh, such a whore. You say you don’t want this, yet your little cunt is telling me otherwise. Maybe you should use it to think instead of your empty brain. You’d end up in better places if you did so,” he advises, and you try to tune him out. But he’s like an alarm that just won’t stop until you do something, and yet, you’re helpless. “Ich kann es kaum erwarten, dich zu meiner Hure zu machen. Wie viel verlangen Sie? Einen Dollar? So oder so, du wirst von mir gefickt werden,” Niki snickers, and you have a feeling his words lack kindness.

But who the hell are you to worry about kindness?

Niki pushes his hips forward as his cock slowly sheathes itself inside of your tight pussy. The way you hug him makes him moan immediately, and he wonders if he’s the first you’ve ever had. “Jesus Fucking Christ, you’re so right, kleine Maus,” he groans, slowly bottoming out inside of you. You’re biting down on your wobbly bottom lip, trying your hardest to keep quiet and not let out any cries. The pain is searing. It’s the worst thing you’ve ever felt, and it ingrains itself into your mind until it’s all but an illusion. You’re practically about to be torn in half from his cock, and you’re at an impasse.

The racer curses as his balls rest against your ass, heavy and swollen. He’s deep inside you, filling you up until you’re bursting and you don’t know what to focus on; the pressure in your stomach that just seems to grow with each passing second, or the pain that leisurely turns into pleasure you’ll be addicted to? Everything is so much all at once. “Feel that, kleine Maus? Do you feel how deep inside you I am? Good, because you’ll have to get used to it,” he tells you, and you writhe around.

“So desperate already…” he whispers, watching as you can’t stand still at all. Niki’s hand leaves the base of his cock, as he thrusts his hips forward to elicit a reaction from you. He holds onto you tightly, and your body jerks from his movement. Your swollen stomach is pushed further against the wall, much to your dismay. You let out a gasp, and you try to close your legs as much as Niki will let you. He chuckles before he drags his cock backwards. His tip is the only thing inside you, and he suddenly begins to pump into you roughly. “Oh my God,” you whimper quietly, and your words are drowned out by the sound of skin against skin.

He thrusts up into you at a quick pace, one that your fingers or past lovers could never rival. It seems as though he’s fast when it comes to almost anything. “Die beste Muschi, die ich je hatte,” Niki whispers. Your pussy slickens up as he fucks you, coating him with your sticky wetness. The sight is something to behold, and his cock slips in and out of you with each thrust. “Make some pretty noises, kleine Maus. I want to hear how much of a slut you are for my cock,” he demands, and a loud moan moves past your lips without warning. It’s lewd and pornographic, yet it’s not as debauched as the sounds your wet pussy makes.

“Yeah, that’s more like it, hure,” Niki praises, and you mewl once his cock begins to touch that sweet spot of yours. It makes you go dizzy and hazy, and it also makes your legs weak. You involuntarily stop clenching your thighs together. Each thrust brings you against the wall, and you feel like you’re about to explode. Your pussy clenches down on Niki’s cock tightly, and his motions stutter. “Are you going to come already, my little slut?” he questions, slowing down his thrusts just to see you get frustrated. But the reaction you have is quite the opposite of what he wants, and he’s confused.

You let out a shaky breath that is filled with relief. You try to cross your legs together and push your ass backwards so that you’re far from the wall, even if it means that you’re closer to Niki. Your efforts don’t do much, and you want to wail in defeat. Niki observes you carefully before he shoves you back against the wall. You cry out before whispering a simple ‘please’ to him. He doesn’t realize what you’re talking about until he watches you place one of your hands on your stomach. You splay your fingers out delicately, and Niki chuckles.

The hold he has on your hips goes away, and he reaches for your hand. “Shh, it’s okay,” he reassures, and you furrow your eyebrows in both confusion and surprise. Niki pulls his cock out of you until you’re an empty, gaping mess. Suddenly, he presses down on your bladder until warmth trickles down your legs, soaking the fabric at your feet. A few tears leak from your eyes, and Niki watches as you burn up with embarrassment and shame. The pain and pressure in your abdomen go away as you finally alleviate yourself.

“Dreckig, dreckig, kleine Maus,” he degrades, and you don’t have it in you to be offended. The streams of liquid eventually come to an end, and you’re so ashamed. You press your face against the wall and wait for Niki’s next word. But he doesn’t say anything at all. Zip, zilch, nada. Instead, he pulls his hand away from your stomach and uses it to silently guide his cock back to your drooling, aching hole. “Couldn’t help yourself, I know. It’s okay, it’s not entirely your fault, liebling,” Niki tells you, even though he’s more patronizing than comforting.

“Es ist nicht deine Schuld, dass du nicht weißt, wie man etwas richtig macht. Keine Manieren, keine Höflichkeiten... Ich verstehe, dass du so bist, aber ich bin hier, um dich zu ändern. Ich bin hier, um dir beizubringen, dass du unter mir stehst und dass du nichts anderes tun solltest, als meine Hure zu sein und mich zu verehren,” he continues, and you’ve decided to give up entirely. You forehead rests on the white brick, and Niki begins to fuck you roughly once again.

He pounds against your sweet spot relentlessly, not one error in his rhythmic thrusts. “Poor little thing acts all tough until it comes down to it… And now look at you, you’re a complete mess with my cock stuffed inside this perfect pussy,” Niki grunts, leaning his body forward. His chest is right up against your back, and his chin rests on your sweaty shoulder. Your white ribbon is a tangled mess, the two ends of it twisting together and falling in your face. The silk material is no longer cooling, and the styling purpose of it has lost its touch.

The plunges of his cock are more deep than quick, and each shove of his hips sends you spiralling in pleasure. “F- Fuck,” you moan, seeing stars in your vision as your legs twitch from overwhelming gratification. “Yeah, you like that? You like the way my cock makes your pussy feel, kleine Maus?” he questions, and he further pushes his head down until his mentum digs into your skin. You wail loudly out of pain before nodding your head desperately. Niki squeezes the sides of your neck even more, but he also pushes down on your windpipe until you’re gasping for air.

You wheeze resoundingly, and the sound of you suffering for breath sends even more blood down to Niki’s pulsating cock. “Say it, tell me how much you love my cock and how much of a slut you are for me,” he demands, and you grasp at whatever’s left in your vocabulary. “I- I love your cock, Niki. I’m such a slut for you and your cock. You make me feel so good. I love your cock so much,” you pathetically mewl, and you can feel a form of tightening building up in you. Your lower abdomen burns up with searing flames, ones that trail all the way down to where you’re both connected.

You get wetter and wetter, more loud and desirous as your climax builds up. It’s like a staggering tower that reaches up to the sky and past the clouds; it has an end, but it keeps growing. “Are you going to come, kleine Maus? Are you going to come around my fat cock? I know you are. C’mon, do it,” Niki urges, and you moan his name loudly. “Do it, come on my cock right fucking now, or else I’ll make this worse for you,” he demands, and your back arches violently. You let out a gasp as your jaw goes slack. Red fills your vision, and you’re clamping down on his cock.

You moan his name loudly, and your juices coat his already sticky cock. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you mewl, digging your nails into your skin as you struggle to keep quiet like he ordered you to do. Your pussy spasms wildly, and your clit throbs, desperate for a few fingers to rub it. Your legs shake just a little bit, and you find yourself meeting Niki at his every thrust, desperate to keep going. Your ass moves backwards, and his hips move forwards, and the Austrian fucks you through your orgasm. Your nerves have sparks flying from them, and every part of you is sensitive.

“You’re so pretty when you come, kleine Maus. You look just like a desperate whore,” Niki grunts, and he can feel himself inching closer to his own climax. It’s like the light at the end of a tunnel or the chequered flag that usually waits for him at the race track before he’s announced to be the winner. “I’m gonna come inside you, kleine Maus, even if you don’t want me to. I’m going to fill you up with my seed and make you all nice and round. That way, you’ll know who you belong to, and you won’t be whoring around for the James Hunt you love so much,” he whispers in your ear, and you rapidly shake your head.

No, no, no, no.

“Yes, yes, yes, kleine Maus, you’re going to take my seed because I said so. Now stop fighting me,” he moans in your ear, and his thrusts grow sloppy and lazy. Niki shallowly fucks into you, and his balls begin to tighten up. His chest rises and falls, and he can feel his high beginning to climb up to the sky. Up, up, up, and away. Niki moans out the little pet name he’s applied to you, and he entirely shoves his cock inside you until he can’t move anymore. Growling, he comes inside you without a care in the world.

The raging, red tip of his fat cock is so deep. White ropes of his seed shoot into your womb, filling you up until you’re an upset, messy cumdump. “This is all you’re good for, kleine Maus,” Niki whispers in your ear, reminding you of your so-called place that he believes you belong in. His cum drips down your inner walls and leaks past his cock, and your fluids mix with each other. Niki’s cock twitches inside of you, but he remains as hard as a rock.

“Can’t wait to see you with my baby, kleine Maus. And I can’t wait to see James’s face when he sees you with me. Er wird so schockiert sein, dass sein Gesichtsausdruck unbezahlbar sein wird,” Niki laughs wickedly, and you can’t imagine you’ll ever meet anyone as cruel or as twisted as he is. “Can you get off of me now? I want to go home, and I want to stay as far away from you as I can,” you snap in both annoyance and exhaustion. “Nu-uh,” he tuts in a disciplinary manner. “You’re not going anywhere, kleine Maus,” Niki tells you. He tilts his head up until his lips touch the skin of your ear.

“I still have to celebrate my win with you, and I’ll make sure to push you to the limit, kleine Maus.”

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bruhstories · 3 years

Text

Dazed and Confused

Summary: You and Connie have been friends for ten years, crushing on each other like a bunch of idiots who can't confess their feelings for one another. Until you go on a trip with your friends. Pairing: Connie Springer x Fem!Reader Warnings & Content: 18+, language, oral sex (female & male receiving), unprotected sex, weed smoking, alcohol consumption, f l u f f Word Count: 4.2 k

A/N: I got so pissed at that last anon that I finished this oneshot quicker lol. @fiaficsxo here it is!

You loved parties. Not the loud music and thick smoke, not the booze and smell of vomit, but your friends. Every time they gathered at someone's place, your heart fluttered, filled with happiness and content and long-lasting memories.

Connie had the brilliant idea of spending a week in the mountains during your spring break, and you wasted an entire night searching for the perfect cottage to rent. Luckily everyone was down with his suggestion, the only problem was how you'd sleep. Historia obviously wanted to share a room with Ymir. Mikasa and Eren were an item now, so they'd have to sleep together. Armin wanted to try his luck with Annie, so no one objected to that. Jean declared that he wanted to bunk with Connie, like the two eligible bachelors they were, and that left you and Sasha to share a room together. You didn't mind it, in all honesty you loved Sasha with all your heart — but you secretly hoped someone would pick up on your feelings for Connie and let you sleep with him. You weren't that lucky.

You packed your bag the night before the trip, obsessively ticking everything on your list and double checking every item and pocket. It was ready, with one item missing — the white lace babydoll smoothed on your dorm bed. You chewed the pen cap, debating whether to bring it with you or not. You bought it for special occasions, but you haven't had a dick appointment in a long time, and you doubted you'd have one this week. With a shrug, you decided to bring it — you never know what might happen. Nighttime passed quickly and you soon found yourself all dolled up, albeit still sleepy from all the tossing and turning, excited to make more memories with your friends.

The train station was packed with people, especially students who went back to their hometowns for the break, and you were relieved to find Armin and Mikasa there. You three were always punctual, followed by Jean and Annie. Eren, Sasha and Connie were always late, which is why you told them the train leaves at 7 am instead of 7:30. It was a dirty strategy, but no one wanted to miss such a fun opportunity because of those lazy fuckers. And lo and behold, they decided to appear at 7:15.

"That was some good thinking." Jean shook his head, hand sympathetically placed on your shoulder.

"I'm only glad you guys rolled with it." You laughed without noticing the way Connie stared at you, and even he didn't understand exactly what he felt. Was he grumpy because he hated morning, or was it Jean's hand on you that irked him?

"It's not polite to stare." Sasha pulled Connie out of his thoughts.

"I wasn't staring, I was looking." Connie rolled his eyes, gripping the handle of his suitcase a bit too tightly.

"I just don't get it why you don't tell her you like her." The girl popped a bubblegum baloon, proceeding to chew it very loudly.

"Are you kidding me? She obviously likes Jean. Look how she's laughing!"

Sasha placed an arm on his shoulder, a sheepish smile on her face. "You, my friend, are a dumbass."

"Takes one to know one."

To say that your friends were loud during the train ride was an understatement. They didn't really care about the nasty glares other passengers shot at them, opting to talk, sing, eat and practically embarrass themselves. But two hours later you arrived, and the fresh, crisp air of the mountains was a blessing. You didn't regret coming, all of you deserved a break after all the exams, studying and all-nighters you guys pulled.

"We could visit the military museum!" Armin suggested, but Connie scrunched his nose.

"We came here to get high, drink and spend time together, why the fuck would we visit some old ass building?"

"I'd like to go to the museum." You awkwardly smiled, earning a 'see?' from the blond. Mikasa, Eren and Annie backed you up, and since it was a democracy, you ended up leaving your bags at the cottage and touring the small town to find the military museum. The building wasn't massive, and inside it was dark, with crimson carpets and dim lights. It was actually quite a romantic atmosphere, had it not been for the weapons and armours displayed in glass cases. Connie watched you intently, taking in every movement, every flinch, every hair tucking, every scrunch of your cute nose. You absorbed the information, hungry for knowledge. This was something you and Connie didn't share — yes, you were down to drinking and smoking, but you were also eager to learn and study, while he always preached how 'you can always retake an exam but you can't relive a party.' He wasn't stupid by any means, but unlike you, Jean, Armin and Mikasa — who alwaysstudied and never skipped lectures — Connie would wing it and somehow end up getting better grades. His strategy didn't always work, and sometimes, when you were in college, he'd ask you to tutor him. Now you were second year undergraduates, and while you were studying different subjects, you still made time for each other.

"That's a nice, uhh..." Connie squinted, "...shotgun."

"It's a musket." You chuckled, your fingers accidentally brushing his as you turned around to face him.

"Shotgun, musket, same thing."

"Actually, muskets are muzzle-loaded and fire a single bullet, but shotguns pack multiple pellets in one shell." You explained. "I'm sorry, you're probably not interested in my ramblings."

"No, no, it's... interesting. I just wasn't expecting you to know so much about guns." He rubbed his nape and smiled at you.

"Well, I do study history, in case you forgot."

"How could I forget that?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" You awkwardly elbowed Connie. Why was it so hard for you to just tell him your feelings? Oh, right, because you've been friends for ten years and if he didn't like you back, it would only ruin a great friendship.

"It means you brag about it so much it's kind of hard to forget." He told you, quickly realising just how insulting that sounded.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know that's how you felt..." You sighed, eyes darting back to the weapons.

"No, I didn't- forget it." Connie shook his head. Well played.

Back at the cottage, with enough food and booze to last the group a month, you decided to stay in your room for the rest of the day. It wasn't the first time you had embarrassing moments with Connie, but this particular one made you anxious to be around him. Did he really dislike you that much, or was it just friendly banter? If you were to ask him, you could find out, but every scenario in your head had a bad outcome, so avoiding him for now was the smartest choice. Sasha pleaded with you to spend the evening in the living room with everyone else, but you brushed her off, telling her you weren't feeling quite well.

"Text me if you need anything." She told you before leaving. It was immature to act this way, you knew that all too well, but it wasn't like Connie cared, right? You eventually decided to go downstairs after finishing a long episode of your favourite tv show, your stomach begging for nourishment. As silently as possible, you tiptoed behind the couch. The hallway was dim, the sun had already set, and the only lights were the ones from the wide TV screen in the living room where your friends were watching some corny horror movie. You could cut the suspense and tension with a knife, and when you dropped a teaspoon, everyone jumped.

"Sorry, sorry! It's just me!"

"Jesus Christ, Y/N, you almost gave me a heart attack." Jean got up from the floor and walked behind the couch. "How are you feeling? Sasha said you're ill."

"I'm fine, don't worry." You picked the spoon up and threw it in the sink. "It's just a headache, I'll sleep it off."

"Good, we need you here." The man wrapped an arm around you. "You're missing how Connie's crapping his pants at this shitty movie."

From the outside it would seem like you and Jean were a couple, but the truth was far from it. You two grew up together, his family was friends with your family, and what you had was nothing more than a brother-sister relationship. Jean's little remark earned a disgruntled look from Connie, you quickly picked up on that, and so you playfully jabbed him in the stomach.

"Connie's crapping his pants? You're the one who almost had a heart attack." You grinned.

"Oi, that was only because you dropped your stupid spoon. I was invested in the movie."

"Mhm, sure you were."

"Hey, you sure you don't want to join us?" Mikasa waved at you from the living room. You pondered over her question. Perhaps it wouldn't be too awkward to sit with them.

"Alright, sure, why not?"

"Come, sit next to me." Sasha shuffled to the side, but what she really meant by that was 'sit next to Connie', because she shuffled to the otherside.

The following two nights were surprisingly quiet, all you did was play board games, watch movies and walk around the town taking pictures. The tension between Connie and you seemed to dissipate, and you both forgot the unpleasant interaction you had on the first day. But on the fourth night, that's when shit hit the fan. Annie and Armin left for a date, and Eren and Mikasa wanted to spend the night alone in their room, leaving you, Sasha, Jean and Connie unsupervised, bored and tipsy. There was absolutely nothing good to watch on the TV, and you almost wanted to scream when your friends wanted to play truth or dare. It was one of those games you despised, because the whole point of it was to put the players in uncomfortable situations. And you didn't like being uncomfortable, unlike your friends.

"Jean, truth or dare?" Sasha beamed.

"Dare, duh."

"Alright, I dare you to switch roommates for the rest of the week." She sipped her blackberry cider.

"Okay? So, I'll stay with Y/N, then."

Good lord, if looks could kill, Connie's would annihilate Jean and Sasha off the face of the Earth.

"No, no, you'll stay with me. Y/N will stay with Connie."

"Eh? Why does your dare involve us?" You asked, confused and curious of your friend's proposal.

"Because." She shrugged. "Don't pussy out."

"I'm not pussying out. A dare's a dare." Jean scoffed. "I'm gonna go take my shit in your room and shower."

"Y-yeah, I'll go bring mine, too." You got up, using this time to hyperventilate alone. What the fuck was Sasha even thinking? Was this some stupid joke? But your friends wouldn't harm you, so why would she suggest such a stupid thing?

You took a quick shower before curling up in the bed, blankets covering you from neck to toe. Connie wasn't back yet, and you didn't want to go after him, that would just be odd. You were hoping you'd fall asleep before he returned, to avoid any unnecessary fuss, but just as you closed your eyes, the door opened. Maybe you could pretend you were asleep? He struggled to find his pyjamas in the dark, stumbling over furniture and knocking things down, and you turned the bedside lamp on to ease his search.

"Did I wake you up?" Connie bit his lower lip, and through the dim light you watched the way his grey eyes glistened, the way his short brown hair was ruffled, and how the sage green t-shirt hugged his toned abdomen.

"No, no, 's alright. I wasn't sleeping. I can't exactly fall asleep." You clutched the blanket at your chest as you shook the intrusive thoughts away. Connie was your friend, damn it, there was no room for romance between you.

"I can sleep on the floor if you want."

"Oh, God, no, it's... stiff."

"Um, yeah, it kinda is. Alright then, I'll jump in the shower real quick before going to bed." He stumbled into the bathroom and you really wanted to fall asleep now.

But you couldn't. Every time you closed your eyes, Connie's face popped in your head. So much for resting. You tossed and turned on the mattress, trying to find a comfortable position to sleep in, but nothing helped. It didn't take long for him to finish his shower, and you mentally chastised yourself for not falling asleep when you felt him shuffle under the same blanket that was covering you. For a minute, you didn't utter a word, you barely breathed, afraid to disturb the silence in the room.

"Are you asleep?"

"Nope." You heard the click of Connie's phone and turned around. You couldn't see him, but you could hear him.

"Do you wanna talk about something? Until we fall asleep, I mean." You suggested.

"Hmm, sure." He turned on his side and you felt his breath fanning over your cheeks. You were too close to him. "Actually, d'you wanna smoke?"

"Aren't the others gonna be mad if we smoke without them?"

"They don't have to know. Besides, you and I never smoked together." Connie was already up, rummaging through his backpack with the flashlight of his phone. "And then we can talk as much as you want."

"Alright, I'm down."

You laid on the floor, your head next to Connie's as you looked at the ceiling, smoke leaving your lips. He took the joint from you, fingers touching yours and you blushed, the haze of the weed melting your worries away.

"Do you want me to skip the song?" Connie asked, and for a moment you forgot there was a song playing.

"No, I like it." You confessed. "I didn't know you liked Led Zeppelin."

"There's lots of things you don't know about me, Y/N." He passed you the joint.

"Okay, tell me something else I don't know."

"I like it when you randomly say historical or scientific facts."

"Didn't you say I brag too much about it?" You took one final drag before you stubbed the joint out in a makeshift ashtray filled with a bit of water. By this point you were high as a kite, every trace of rationality gone.

"That doesn't mean I don't like it." Connie smiled and you could feel it in his voice. "Now you tell me something I don't know about you."

"I can't sleep with open doors. It freaks me out." You sat up, a breeze blowing through the window sending shivers down your spine. "It's a bit cold, do you mind if I close the window?"

"Go ahead."

You got up and picked the ashtray up but before you could close the window, you stumbled over a chest of drawers, the ashes mixed with water spilling over your t-shirt.

"You okay?" He quickly crawled to you, concern written all over his face.

"Yeah, I'm just clumsy." You laughed it off and waved your free hand. "I'll go get changed, I should have a spare shirt."

But you didn't have a spare shirt. All you had was that stupid white babydoll, and anxiety seeped through your veins. You couldn't exactly show up in that in front of your crush. And you didn't want to ask him for a shirt either. Fuck it, what else could you do?

You peeked out the bathroom door and saw Connie back in bed, lazily scrolling through his phone. God, this was embarrassing.

"You look like you've seen a ghost." He laughed, but when your facial expression didn't change, he frowned. "Y/N?"

"Um, so, I didn't have a spare shirt and- Jesus, this is awkward." You opened the door and his eyes widened. "Is it alright if I sleep in this?"

"Oh, I get it now." Connie scoffed.

"Get what?"

"You were hoping you'd share a room with Jean, right?" He sounded almost disgusted.

"Excuse you? Where did you even get that idea?" You slammed the bathroom door shut, arms folded across your chest.

"I'm not stupid, Y/N. I've seen the way you two act. Do yourselves a favour and just fuck already."

You were speechless. Completely reactionless. The weed amplified your anger, but his words brought tears to your eyes.

"You... you fucking asshole! You think I brought this for Jean? I brought it for you!"

"Eh? M-me?" Connie was confused, and you were pissed.

"Yes, you. Jean's like a brother to me, oh my God! Ew!"

"Wait, so you and Jean are not in love with each other?"

"In love?? Connie, how high are you exactly?" You walked closer to the bed, arms still crossed.

"But- Fuck, I am stupid." He shook his head, the memories of you flirting with him flashing before his eyes. "I fucked up, didn't I?"

"A bit..." Your muscles relaxed and you sat on the mattress. "Really, Connie, I... I like you. A lot. But you're always giving me mixed signals."

"That's because I always thought you liked Jean!" He threw his hands in the air in exasperation.

"No, you're the only one."

"Huh, guess I've really been dazed and confused."

Calloused fingertips ran across your hips leaving goosebumps in their trail. Your hands roamed his back and the way Connie kissed you was better than any high you've ever experienced. He was touch-starved, and you were just as needy. His knee found its place between your thighs and you moaned when it barely brushed your cunt.

"I've been dreaming for this moment for as long as I can remember." Connie breathed into your neck, the hot breath tickling your skin.

"Me too, you blind bat." You laughed and he turned you over, hovering over you.

"'M sorry I didn't notice quicker." He kissed you again. One hand travelled lower, pushing your underwear to the side before he pushed two fingers between your folds. "Fuck, you're so wet."

"Well, at least now I don't have to finger myself thinking about you." You whimpered with a grin.

"Oh?" Connie arched a brow. "Is that what you've been doing?" He curled up his fingers and you threw your head back with a moan. "I thought you were a prude."

"T-there's lots of things you d-don't know about m-me!" You replied back between oh’sand ah’s, imitating his words from an hour ago. That only earned a sneer from Connie, his head dipping between your thighs. "Wait, what are you do- ooh fuck!"

His tongue lapped at your cunt, fingers pumping in and out of you, and you completely sunk into the mattress, moaning his name over and over again. You gripped the sheets, flexing the muscles in your legs as you squirmed and thrashed. Connie stopped and you almost crushed his skull with your thighs at the empty feeling. He pulled your underwear down and shoved the cotton panties in your mouth.

"Don't wake everyone up, Y/N. You don't want them knowing what a little slut you are, do you?"

You shook your head and Connie went back to circling your clit with his tongue, adrenaline rushing through your entire body with each lick, each suck. Tears of pleasure pooled at your eyes, nose and cheeks red from the thrill of your incoming orgasm. The way he was sloppily eating your pussy and moaning while doing it drove you insane, and within seconds you came undone, thighs trembling with delight. In fact, you were so sore you had to push his head back, begging him to stop so you could return the favour.

"You taste so sweet." Connie licked his lips. You don't know what possessed you to pull him into a kiss after you removed the makeshift gag, but he was right, you were sweet.

"Can I...?" Your eyes drifted down to his twitching cock, your voice soft and quiet.

"You wanna suck it?"

"Yes."

"Later. Right now, I wanna fuck you."

Connie gave you no time to protest, his elbow pushed one of your things to the side, the blushing tip of his cock grazing over your overstimulated clit, up and down your slit. Inch by inch it disappeared into your cunt and he let out a satisfied sigh. You bucked your hips, manicured nails digging into his shoulders with each thrust.

"Shit, you're so fucking tight!" Connie growled, head lowering to kiss you. You could still taste yourself on his lips and that only made you clench your spongy walls around his cock. That seemed to please him, because he rocked his hips harder and faster. "You like it?"

"Oh, God, yes!" You gasped, beads of sweat forming on your forehead as you clawed his back.

"Fuck, I want you to ride me." He gripped your hips tighter and turned you over. You tried your best to get in the new position without letting his cock slip out of you, and when you finally adjusted yourself, it was a whole new challenge. Gravity pulled you down, and his tip brushed your cervix, your eyes squinting at the slight pain. "If it hurts, stop-"

"No!" You cried out, your hands resting on his chest. You bounced up and down, the uncomfortable feeling slowly replaced with pleasure. Connie's hands traced your thighs as you rode him, another wave of heat flushing through your core. His palm met your cunt, thumb circling over your clit. "I can't c-come again!"

"Yes, you can. And you will cream on my cock."

The disgust words worked like magic and you flexed your thighs, bouncing faster, head thrown back, hair cascading down your back. "You're so beautiful, Y/N."

"Connie, I-" The words stopped in your throat, the pressure too much for you to handle.

"You what?"

"I'm- oh, God!"

"Atta girl!" He praised you when he felt your silken walls relaxing and your thighs quaking. The second orgasm was so intense you let yourself fall over his chest, dizzy and tired. You thought he'd give you a break, but Connie wrapped an arm around your back, holding you in place before giving your oversensitive cunt a few more thrusts. "Now you can return the favour."

You mustered up some strength to get up and kneel in front of the bed, between his legs.

"Please don't come in my mouth." You asked him before wrapping your pretty lips around his cock.

"Gotchaah-" Connie choked on his words when he felt himself in your hot mouth. You bobbed your head up and down, cheeks hollowed and eyes on him. You didn't break eye contact when you pulled away and spat on the tip, hand pumping his cock to smear the spit. "Hot." He mumbled before you went back to sucking. You felt the throbbing, tightening your lips around him and picking up the pace. "Y/N-"

It all happened in a flash — Connie yanked your hair and pulled your head back, thick ropes of milky white cum shooting all over your face and neck.

"Eew!" You scrunched your nose, hand under your chin to stop it from dripping down the floor.

"What do you mean ew? That's, like, a billion kids!"

"Actually, a fertile man produces around-"

"Don't start. Do not." He pressed his index finger over your lips. "Let's get you cleaned up."

You woke up sore, especially between your thighs, but damn, was it worth it. Connie wrapped an arm around your waist, mumbling something about how pretty you are, but you assumed he was still sleeping — or still high. The sun shone through the blinds and you squinted, annoyed by the brightness, and so you turned around, watching the way your crush snored peacefully.

"Cute." You smiled and planted a kiss on his forehead, waking him up. "Oh, I'm sorry!"

"Why?" Connie rubbed his eyes. "Waking up to you is a blessing."

You couldn't hide the tinting of your cheeks and the grin on your lips. "I didn't think you were the romantic type."

"There's lots of things-"

"I don't know about you. But I'd like to know those things. If you let me, of course." You bit your lower lip, eyes filled with hope.

"Can I be your boyfriend?" He sat up, his eyes serious.

"I thought you'd never ask."

Okay, so maybe Sasha knew a thing or two when she dared Jean to switch roommates.

You walked into the kitchen after getting ready for the day, with Connie following behind you. Everyone was eating their breakfast, and Jean instantly dashed to you.

"Connie, bro, take me back. Sasha's leaving crumbs all over the bed! I can't sleep like that!"

"I can't, man, I wanna spend the rest of the week with my girlfriend." He sneered and you elbowed him.

"I forgot to mention Jean's overprotecti-"

"Your what? Hands off my sister from another mister, you creep!"

"Creep? You're the one who was sexting someone's sister last night." Sasha chimed in, mouth full of cereal.

"Thanks, Sash." Jean rolled his eyes. "For real, how did this happen?"

"You see, mate, when a man and a woman love each other-"

"Nope. I will not hear this."

#connie springer #connie springer x reader #connie x reader #aot #aot x reader #aot smut #aot x you #aot x y/n #connie springer x you #connie springer x y/n #snk #snk x reader #snk smut #snk x you #snk x y/n #connie x you #connie x y/n

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xoruffitup · 3 years

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Annette: The AD Devotee Review

So I saw Annette on its premiere night in Cannes and I’m still trying to process and make sense of those 2.5 hours of utter insanity. I have no idea where to begin and this is likely going to become an unholy length by the time I’m finished, so I apologize in advance. But BOY I’ve got a lot to parse through!!

Let’s start here: Adam’s made plenty of weird movies. The Dead Don’t Die? The Man Who Killed Don Quixote? There are definitely Terry Gilliam-esque elements of the unapologetically absurd and fantastical in Annette, but NOTHING comes close to this film. To put it bluntly, nothing I write in this post can prepare you for the eccentric phantasmagoria you’re about to sit through.

While the melodies conveying the story – at times lovely and haunting, at times whimsical, occasionally blunt and simple – add a unique sense of the surreal, the fact that it’s all presented in song somehow supplies the medium for this bizarre concoction of disparate elements and outlandish storytelling to all coalesce into a single genre-defying, disbelief-suspending whole. That’s certainly not to say there weren’t a few times when I quietly chortled to myself and mouthed “what the fuck” from behind my mask when things took an exceeding turn to the outrageous. This movie needs to be permitted a bit of leeway in terms of quality judgments, and traditional indicators certainly won’t apply. I would say part of its appeal (and ultimately its success) stems from its lack of interest in appealing to traditional arbiters of film structure and viewing experience. The movie lingers in studies of discomfiture (I’ll return to this theme); it presents all its absurdities with brazen pride rather than temperance; and its end is abrupt and utterly jarring. Yet somehow, at the end of it, I realized I’d been white-knuckling that rollercoaster ride the whole way through and loved every last twist and turn.

A note on the structure of this post before I dive in: I’ve written out a synopsis of the whole film (for those spoiler-hungry people) and stashed it down at the bottom of this post, so no one trying to avoid spoilers has to scroll through. If you want to read, go ahead and skip down to that before reading the discussion/analysis. If I have to reference a specific plot point, I’ll label it “Spoiler #___” and those who don’t mind being spoiled can check the correlating numbers in my synopsis to see which part I’m referencing. Otherwise, my discussion will be spoiler-free! I do detail certain individual scenes, but hid anything that would give away key developments and/or the ending.

To start, I’ll cut to what I’m sure many of you are here for: THE MUSICAL SEX SCENES. You want detailed descriptions? Well let’s fucking go because these scenes have been living in my head rent-free!!

The first (yes, there are two. Idk whether to thank Mr. Carax or suggest he get his sanity checked??) happens towards the end of “We Love Each Other So Much.” Henry carries Ann to the bed with her feet dangling several inches off the floor while she has her arms wrapped around his shoulders. (I maybe whimpered a tiny bit.) As they continue to sing, you first see Ann spread on her back on the bed, panting a little BUT STILL SINGING while Henry’s head is down between her thighs. The camera angle is from above Ann’s head, so you can clearly see down her body and exactly what’s going on. He lifts his head to croon a line, then puts his mouth right back to work.

And THEN they fuck – still fucking singing! They’re on their sides with Henry behind her, and yes there is visible thrusting. Yes, the thrusting definitely picks up speed and force as the song reaches its crescendo. Yes, it was indeed EXTREMELY sensual once you got over the initial shock of what you’re watching. Ann kept her breasts covered with her own hands while Henry went down on her, but now his hands are covering them and kneading while they’re fucking and just….. It’s a hard, blazing hot R rating. I also remember his giant hand coming up to turn her head so he can kiss her and ladkjfaskfjlskfj. Bring your smelling salts. I don’t recommend sitting between two older ladies while you’re watching – KINDA RUINED THE BLATANT, SMOKING HOT ADAM PORN FOR ME. Good god, choose your viewing buddy wisely!

The second scene comes sort of out of nowhere – I can’t actually recall which song it was during, but it pops up while Ann is pregnant. Henry is again eating her out and there’s not as much overt singing this time, but he has his giant hands splayed over her pregnant belly while he’s going to town and whew, WHEW TURN ON THE AIR CONDITIONING PLEASE. DID THE THEATER INCREASE IN TEMPERATURE BY 10 DEGREES, YOU’RE DAMN RIGHT IT DID.

Whew. I think you’ll be better primed to ~enjoy~ those scenes when you know they’re coming, otherwise it’s just so shocking that by the time you’ve processed “Look at Adam eating pussy with reckless abandon” it’s halfway over already. God speed, my fellow rats, it’s truly something to witness!!

Okay. Right. Ahem. Moving right on along….

I’ll kick off this discussion with the formal structure of the film. It’s honestly impossible to classify. I have the questionable fortune of having been taken to many a strange avant-garde operas and art exhibitions by my parents when I was younger, and the strongest parallel I found to this movie was melodramatic opera stagings full of flamboyant flourishes, austere set pieces, and prolonged numbers where the characters wallow at length in their respective miseries. This movie has all the elevated drama, spectacle, and self-aggrandizement belonging to any self-professed rock opera. Think psychedelic rock opera films a la The Who’s Tommy, Hair, Phantom of the Paradise, and hell, even Rocky Horror. Yes, this film really is THAT weird.

But Annette is also in large part a vibrant, absurdist performance piece. The film is intriguingly book-ended by two scenes where the lines blur between actor and character; and your own role blurs between passive viewer and interactive audience. The first scene has the cast walking through the streets of LA (I think?), singing “So May We Start?” directly to the camera in a self-aware prologue, smashing the fourth wall from the beginning and setting up the audience to play a direct role in the viewing experience. Though the cast then disburse and take up their respective roles, the sense of being directly performed to is reinforced throughout the film. This continues most concretely through Henry’s multiple stand-up comedy performances.

Though he performs to an audience in the film rather than directly to live viewers, these scenes are so lengthy, vulgar, and excessive that his solo performance act becomes an integral part of defining his character and conveying his arc as the film progresses. These scenes start to make the film itself feel like a one-man show. The whole shtick of Henry McHenry’s “Ape of God” show is its perverse irreverence and swaggering machismo. Over the span of what must be a five minute plus scene, Henry hacks up phlegm, pretends to choke himself with his microphone cord, prances across the stage with his bathrobe flapping about, simulates being shot, sprinkles many a misanthropic, charmless monologues in between, and ends by throwing off his robe and mooning the audience before he leaves the stage. (Yes, you see Adam’s ass within the film’s first twenty minutes, and we’re just warming up from there.) His one-man performances demonstrate his egocentrism, penchant for lowbrow and often offensive humor, and the fact that this character has thus far profited from indulging in and acting out his base vulgarities.

While never demonstrating any abundance of good taste, his shows teeter firmly towards the grotesque and unsanctionable as his marriage and mental health deteriorate. This is what I’m referring to when I described the film as a study in discomfiture. As he deteriorates, the later iterations of his stand-up show become utterly unsettling and at times revolting. The film could show mercy and stop at one to two minutes of his more deranged antics, but instead subjects you to a protracted display of just how insane this man might possibly be. In Adam’s hands, these excessive, indulgent performance scenes take on disturbing but intriguing ambiguity, as you again wonder where the performance ends and the real man begins. When Henry confesses to a crime during his show and launces into an elaborate, passionate reenactment on stage, you shift uncomfortably in your seat wondering how much of it might just be true. Wondering just how much of an animal this man truly is.

Watching this film as an Adam fan, these scenes are unparalleled displays of his range and prowess. He’s in turns amusing and revolting; intolerable and pathetic; but always, always riveting. I couldn’t help thinking to myself that for the casual, non Adam-obsessed viewer, the effect of these scenes might stop at crass and unappealing. But in terms of the sheer range and power of acting on display? These scenes are a damn marvel. Through these scenes alone, his performance largely imbues the film with its wild, primal, and vaguely menacing atmosphere.

His stand-up scenes were, to me, some of the most intense of the film – sometimes downright difficult to endure. But they’re only a microcosm of the R A N G E he exhibits throughout the film’s entirety. Let’s talk about how he’s animalistic, menacing, and genuinely unsettling to watch (Leos Carax described him as “feline” at some point, and I 100% see it); and then with a mere subtle twitch of his expression, sheen of his eyes, or slump of his shoulders, he’s suddenly a lost, broken thing.

Henry McHenry is truly to be reviled. Twitter might as well spare their breath and announce he’s already cancelled. He towers above the rest of the cast with intimidating, predatory physicality; he is prone to indulgence in his vices; and he constantly seems at risk of releasing some wild, uncontrollable madness lingering just beneath his surface. But as we all well know, Adam has an unerring talent for lending pathos to even the most objectively condemnable characters.

In a repeated refrain during his first comedy show, the audience keeps asking him, “Why did you become a comedian?” He dodges the question or gives sarcastic answers, until finally circling back to the true answer later in the film. It was something to the effect of: “To disarm people. It’s the only way I can tell the truth without it killing me.” Even for all their sick spectacle, there are also moments in his stand-up shows of disarming vulnerability and (seeming) honesty. In a similar moment of personal exposition, he confesses his temptation and “sympathy for the abyss.” (This phrase is hands down my favorite of the film.) He repeatedly refers to his struggle against “the abyss” and, at the same time, his perceived helplessness against it. “There’s so little I can do, there’s so little I can do,” he sings repeatedly throughout the film - usually just after doing something horrific.

Had he been played by anyone else, the first full look of him warming up before his show - hopping in place and punching the air like some wannabe boxer, interspersing puffs of his cigarette with chowing down on a banana – would have been enough for me to swear him off. His archetype is something of a cliché at this point – a brusque, boorish man who can’t stomach or preserve the love of others due to his own self-loathing. There were multiple points when it was only Adam’s face beneath the character that kept my heart cracked open to him. But sure enough, he wedged his fingers into that tiny crack and pried it wide open. The film’s final few scenes show him at his chin-wobbling best as he crumbles apart in small, mournful subtleties.

(General, semi-spoiler ahead as to the tone of the film’s ending – skip this paragraph if you’d rather avoid.) For a film that professes not to take itself very seriously (how else am I supposed to interpret the freaky puppet baby?), it delivers a harsh, unforgiving ending to its main character. And sure enough, despite how much I might have wanted to distance myself and believe it was only what he deserved, I found myself right there with him, sharing his pain. It is solely testament to Adam’s tireless dedication to breathing both gritty realism and stubborn beauty into his characters that Henry sank a hook into some piece of my sympathy.

Not only does Adam have to be the only actor capable of imbuing Henry with humanity despite his manifold wrongs, he also has to be the only actor capable of the wide-ranging transformations demanded of the role. He starts the movie with long hair and his full refrigerator brick house physique. His physicality and size are actively leveraged to engender a sense of disquiet and unpredictability through his presence. He appears in turns tormented and tormentor. There were moments when I found myself thinking of Conan the Barbarian, simply because his physical presence radiates such wild, primal energy (especially next to tiny, dainty Marion and especially with that long hair). Cannot emphasize enough: The raw sex appeal is off the goddamn charts and had me – a veteran fangirl of 3+ years - shook to my damn core.

The film’s progression then ages him – his hair cut shorter and his face and physique gradually becoming more gaunt. By the film’s end, he has facial prosthetics to make him seem even more stark and borderline sickly – a mirror of his growing internal torment. From a muscular, swaggering powerhouse, he pales and shrinks to a shell of a man, unraveling as his face becomes nearly deformed by time and guilt. He is in turns beautiful and grotesque; sensual and repulsive. I know of no other actor whose face (and its accompanying capacity for expressiveness) could lend itself to such stunning versatility.

Quick note here that he was given a reddish-brown birthmark on the right side of his face for this film?? It becomes more prominent once his hair is shorter in the film’s second half. I’m guessing it was Leos’ idea to make his face even more distinctive and riveting? If so, joke’s on you, Mr. Carax, because we’re always riveted. ☺

I mentioned way up at the beginning that the film is bookended by two scenes where the lines blur between actor and character, and between reality and performance. This comes full circle at the film’s end, with Henry’s final spoken words (this doesn’t give any plot away but skip to the next paragraph if you would rather avoid!) being “Stop watching me.” That’s it. The show is over. He has told his last joke, played out his final act, and now he’s done living his life as a source of cheap, unprincipled laughs and thrills for spectators. The curtain closes with a resounding silence.

Now, I definitely won’t have a section where I talk (of course) about the Ben Solo parallels. He’s haunted by an “abyss” aka darkness inside of him? Bad things happened when he finally gave in and stared into that darkness he knew lived within him? As a result of those tragedies, (SPOILER – Skip to next paragraph to avoid) he then finds himself alone and with no one to love or be loved by? NO I’M DEFINITELY NOT GOING TO TALK ABOUT IT AT ALL, I’M JUST FINE HERE UNDER MY MOUNTAINS OF TISSUES.

Let’s talk about the music! The film definitely clocks in closer to a rock opera than musical, because almost the entire thing is conveyed through ongoing song, rather than self-contained musical numbers appearing here and there. This actually helps the film’s continuity and pacing, by keeping the characters perpetually in this suspended state of absurdity, always propelled along by some beat or melody. Whenever the film seems on the precipice of tipping all the way into the bleak and dark, the next whimsical tune kicks in to reel us all blessedly back. For example, after (SPOILER #1) happens, there’s a hard cut to the bright police station where several officers gather around Henry, bopping about and chattering on the beat “Questions! We have a few questions!”

Adam integrates his singing into his performance in such a way that it seems organic. I realized after the film that I never consciously considered the quality of his singing along the way. For all that I talked about the film maintaining the atmosphere of a fourth wall-defying performance piece, Adam’s singing is so fully immersed in the embodiment of his character that you almost forget he’s singing. Rather, this is simply how Henry McHenry exists. His stand-up scenes are the only ones in the film that do frequently transition back and forth between speaking and singing, but it’s seamlessly par for the course in Henry’s bizarre, dour show. He breaks into his standard “Now laugh!” number with uninterrupted sarcasm and contempt. There were certainly a few soft, poignant moments when his voice warbled in a tender vibrato you couldn’t help noticing – but otherwise, the singing was simply an extension of that full-body persona he manages to convey with such apparent ease and naturalism.

On the music itself: I’ll admit that the brief clip of “We Love Each Other So Much” we got a few weeks ago made me a tad nervous. It seemed so cheesy and ridiculous? But okay, you really can’t take anything from this movie out of context. Otherwise it is, indeed, utterly ridiculous. Not that none of it is ever ridiculous in context either, but I’m giving you assurances right now that it WORKS. Once you’re in the flow of constant singing and weirdness abound, the songs sweep you right along. Some of the songs lack a distinctive hook or melody and are moreso rhythmic vehicles for storytelling, but it’s now a day later and I still have three of the songs circulating pleasantly in my head. “We Love Each Other So Much” was actually the stand out for me and is now my favorite of the soundtrack. It’s reprised a few times later in the film, growing increasingly melancholy each time it is echoed, and it hits your heart a bit harder each time. The final song sung during (SPOILER #2), though without a distinctive melody to lodge in my head, undoubtedly left me far more moved than a spoken version of this scene would have. Adam’s singing is so painfully desperate and earnest here, and he takes the medium fully under his command.

Finally, it does have to be said that parts of this film veer fully towards the ridiculous and laughable. The initial baby version of the Annette puppet-doll was nothing short of horrifying to me. Annette gets more center-stage screen time in the film’s second half, which gives itself over to a few special effects sequences which look to be flying out at you straight from 2000 Windows Movie Maker. The scariest part is that it all seems intentional. The quality special effects appear when necessary (along with some unusual and captivating time lapse shots), which means the film’s most outrageous moments are fully in line with its guiding spirit. Its extravagant self-indulgence nearly borders on camp.

...And with that, I’ve covered the majority of the frantic notes I took for further reflection immediately after viewing. It’s now been a few days, and I’m looking forward to rewatching this movie when I can hopefully take it in a bit more fully. This time, I won’t just be struggling to keep up with the madness on screen. My concluding thoughts at this point: Is it my favorite Adam movie? Certainly not. Is it the most unforgettable? Aside from my holy text, The Last Jedi, likely yes. It really is the sort of thing you have to see twice to even believe it. And all in all, I say again that Adam truly carried this movie, and he fully inhabits even its highest, most ludicrous aspirations. He’s downright abhorrent in this film, and that’s exactly what makes him such a fucking legend.

I plan to make a separate post in the coming days about my experience at Cannes and the Annette red carpet, since a few people have asked! I can’t even express how damn good it feels to be globetrotting for Adam-related experiences again. <3

Thanks so much for reading! Feel free to ask me any further questions at all here or on Twitter! :)

*SYNOPSIS INCLUDED BELOW. DO NOT READ FURTHER IF AVOIDING SPOILERS!*

Synopsis: Comedian Henry McHenry and opera singer Ann Defrasnoux are both at the pinnacle of their respective success when they fall in love and marry. The marriage is happy and passionate for a time, leading to the birth of their (puppet) daughter, Annette. But tabloids and much of the world believe the crude, brutish Henry is a poor match for refined, idolized Ann. Ann and Henry themselves both begin to feel that something is amiss – Henry gradually losing his touch for his comedy craft, claiming that being in love is making him ill. He repeatedly and sardonically references how Ann’s opera career involves her “singing and dying” every night, to the point that he sees visions of her “dead” body on the stage. Meanwhile, Ann has a nightmare of multiple women accusing Henry of abusive and violent behavior towards them, and she begins growing wary in his presence. (He never acts abusively towards her, unless you count that scene when he tickles her feet and licks her toes while she’s telling him to stop??? Yeah I know, WILD.)

The growing sense of unease, that they’re both teetering on the brink of disaster, culminates in the most deranged of Henry’s stand-up comedy performances, when he gives a vivid reenactment of killing his wife by “tickling her to death.” The performance is so maudlin and unsettling that you wonder whether he’s not making it up at all, and the audience strongly rebukes him. (This is the “What is your problem?!” scene with tiddies out. The full version includes Adam storming across the stage, furiously singing/yelling, “What the FUCK is your problem?!”) But when Henry arrives home that night, drunk and raucous, Ann and Annette are both unharmed.

The couple take a trip on their boat, bringing Annette with them. The boat gets caught in a storm, and Henry drunkenly insists that he and Ann waltz in the storm. She protests that it’s too dangerous and begs him to see sense. (SPOILER #1) The boat lurches when Henry spins her, and Ann falls overboard to her death. Henry rescues Annette from the sinking boat and rows them both to shore. He promptly falls unconscious, and a ghost of Ann appears, proclaiming her intention to haunt Henry through Annette. Annette (still a toddler at this point and yes, still a wooden puppet) then develops a miraculous gift for singing, and Henry decides to take her on tour with performances around the world. He enlists the help of his “conductor friend,” who had been Ann’s accompanist and secretly had an affair with her before she met Henry.

Henry slides further into drunken debauchery as the tour progresses, while the Conductor looks after Annette and the two grow close. Once the tour concludes, the Conductor suggests to Henry that Annette might be his own daughter – revealing his prior affair with Ann. Terrified by the idea of anyone finding out and the possibility of losing his daughter, Henry drowns the Conductor in the pool behind his and Ann’s house. Annette sees the whole thing happen from her bedroom window.

Henry plans one last show for Annette, to be held in a massive stadium at the equivalent of the Super Bowl. But when Annette takes the stage, she refuses to sing. Instead, she speaks and accuses Henry of murder. (“Daddy kills people,” are the actual words – not that that was creepy to hear as this puppet’s first spoken words or anything.)

Henry stands trial, during which he sees an apparition of Ann from when they first met. They sing their regret that they can’t return to the happiness they once shared, until the apparition is replaced by Ann’s vengeful spirit, who promises to haunt Henry in prison. After his sentencing (it’s not clear what the sentence was, but Henry definitely isn’t going free), Annette is brought to see him once in prison. Speaking fully for the first time, she declares she can’t forgive her parents for using her: Henry for exploiting her voice for profit and Ann for presumably using her to take vengeance on Henry. (Yes, this is why she was an inanimate doll moving on strings up to this point – there was some meaning in that strange, strange artistic choice. She was the puppet of her parents’ respective egotisms.) The puppet of Annette is abruptly replaced by a real girl in this scene, finally enabling two-sided interaction and a long-missed genuine connection between her and Henry, which made this quite the emotional catharsis. (SPOILER #2) It concludes with Annette still unwilling to forgive or forget what her parents have done, and swearing never to sing again. She says Henry now has “no one to love.” He appeals, “Can’t I love you, Annette?” She replies, “No, not really.” Henry embraces her one last time before a guard takes her away and Henry is left alone.

…..Yes, that is the end. It left me with major emotional whiplash, after the whole film up to this point kept pulling itself back from the total bleak and dark by starting up a new toe-tapping, mildly silly tune every few minutes. But this last scene instead ends on a brutal note of harsh, unforgiving silence.

BUT! Make sure you stick around through the credits, when you see the cast walking through a forest together. (This is counterpart to the film’s opening, when you see the cast walking through LA singing “So May We Start?” directly to the audience) Definitely pay attention to catch Adam chasing/playing with the little girl actress who plays Annette! That imparts a much nicer feeling to leave the theater with. :’)

#Adam Driver #Annette #Cannes 2021 #driverdaily #Annette spoilers

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jjaeong · 4 years

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And If I Still Have Feelings, Will You Accept It This Time? (Triple Threat Confessions).

Series: KPOP Girl Group: 이달의 소녀 (LOONA).

Pairing: Kim Hyunjin & High School Student/Idol Female Reader.

Summary: Y/L/N Y/N was never the center of attention when she was a student, she was never really recognized by her peers because she blended in so well in the academy—until news broke out after their graduation that she was debuting as a soloist under a big company. With that, Y/N’s name grew into the entertainment scene, her songs topping the charts—even having enough credit to be called in to guest MC for a KCON event, which the idol did not even think twice about accepting. As rumors of Y/N being assigned to the Global Girl Group LOONA’s event, both artists’ fans were thrilled with the interaction. Well, you could say other than Y/N and LOONA’s second member Kim Hyunjin—who blatantly had confessed to having feelings for the soloist before they she had debuted.

“You’re looking again, Y/N-ah? Really? You do know about the dating rumors between her and Jeon Heejin.. Right?”

Your eyes stayed glued on the view outside the window, chin resting on the palm of your hand as you continued to watch the Track team jog down the field—particularly on the laughing brunette who won’t stop smiling to herself while she pushed a few of her teammates, teasing her for some reason you could only wonder about. The girl made a turn around the track so your view of her flushed features were blocked, giving you the opportunity to scan the field for the figure that usually lingers somewhere around the area. And there she was, impossible to miss—stunning visuals even from your view through the window of the fourth floor, Jeon Heejin, on her phone as she talked to her friends and a few followers flocking around her.

She didn’t seem to be paying attention to her best friend at all, almost as if she just decided to drop by and talk to the Track Athlete—who also doubled as the second member of the idol’s recently debuted girl group—before leaving and continuing about her day, coming back after classes to walk home with the girl.

“Seriously, if I was Kim Hyunjin I would be worried that you’re my Sasaeng or something..”

“Will you cut it out? She’s just watching—God, you act like Y/N is obsessed with her. Everyone’s acting like they’re obsessed with Kim Hyunjin and Jeon Heejin!”

They were right about one thing though, about everyone being obsessed over those two, you couldn’t entirely understand it but you had guessed that everyone suddenly wanted to be friends with the two because they were idols. But through your eyes, they were just like you—just two girls finishing their last year in High School, and excluding the fact that none of your schoolmates knew that you had already signed a contract that locked you into the idol life after you’ve graduated. But some of your closest friends knew, and the said close “friends” being ITZY’s Shin Ryujin—who was actually the one that told you about being friends with the two, and endlessly raved about them as you mentioned that you were schoolmates.

All of this happening while these girls around you, these "friends" of yours who knew nothing about how you’d cover it up to them that your late night expeditions were just cram school but in reality—it was actually practice.

Though watching this was insane to you, the sudden spike in recognition—people they’ve never talked to acting like they’ve been friends forever, being pulled to the side for a picture, all the attention they’ve never had suddenly there because.. They became a figure. You could say that you were watching the two not because you were in awe, but rather—taking notes, what to do and what not to do, and you were learning a lot. And with the information you gathered, you’ve concluded that Kim Hyunjin and Jeon Heejin really are good people, but for now at least—you didn’t want to be associated with them.

Just for the entire potential pre-debut drama that might come with it after you’ve debuted.

“They’re really pretty.” you commented, just to entice whatever reason it was for your classmates trying to converse with you for. They were never really your friends, and definitely are not after the continuous spiteful remarks they’d pitch in whenever they’d hear about the two idols.

It wasn’t that you hated these girls, but you just can’t be friends with people that are overpowered by envy.

“Of course they are, they’re idols, Y/N. Ugh, whatever—I’m going back to my seat.” you didn’t even bother to check if they actually had left, but you just kept your eyes locked on Kim Hyunjin who was now sitting on the field. You continued to observe until your teacher entered the room, which made you tear your eyes away from the scene to stand up to greet her along with your classmates.

Completely missing Kim Hyunjin’s piercing gaze directed on your figure through the window from the field.

“Come on! Aren’t you the least bit excited? You’re debuting in three days!”

You had stayed in school for a bit longer after being called into the faculty, your adviser reminding you about the award that would be given to you in the ceremony for your debut date—asking you if you were still going to go for it, and congratulating you along the way. And just as you were slipping your shoes on, Ryujin called to suddenly bombard you with congratulatory messages—all while you can hear the speakers behind her blasting ITZY’s songs which had meant that the girl was currently practicing, but decided to call you through her break.

As if you weren’t going to get Tteokbokki later once she’s finished, something about it being an advanced celebration for both of you graduating and your own debut day—because you would both be too busy on the said date.

“I’m too hungry to think about that right now, you know how I’ve been on diet since last week's photoshoot—this is the only time my manager said it’s okay to eat whatever I want..”

“He’s scared of me, as he should be. I’ll beat him up if you pass out in the practice room again..”

“Seriously, Ryujin you are—”

“Kim Hyunjin!” you stopped just before the entrance of the building, tentative steps pulling you closer to the side of the building. The back of an unfamiliar schoolmate of yours was the first image that had greeted you as you peeked—making you clamp a hand on your mouth, stepping away from their view once you saw the dark look casted on the face of the track-suit wearing idol who looked down at the girl with the yellow letter in hand.

“Please accept my feelings, Kim Hyunjin!”

Your heart hammered heavily in your chest, quickly tapping the red button on the screen of your phone—something that you can only apologize to Ryujin for later, but that isn’t important right now. As of the moment, you knew you weren’t supposed to be lingering—you should be willing yourself further to leave the area because this was something private, it was a situation that can only be resolved by the two people involved, but all you could think of was that..

You wouldn’t know how to deal with this either, this was a girl and—it wasn’t entirely wrong for idols to have same sex relationships because even the opposite would be considered a scandal. If Kim Hyunjin were to accept this.. If she were to even consider this.. Right now just when she had just debuted..

“Why?” Hyunjin’s cold voice pierced through the silence, the tone even making your own heart drop but your mind quickly raced to find an explanation you would use if you were in the idol’s place.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to sound so harsh—I just can’t be in a relationship right now, I’ve just started my career..”

“I—well, you’re cool! And you’re pretty! You like the things I like—”

“I’m really sorry, maybe we could at least be friends?”

“No! There’s more! There’s..” the girl pulled her phone out to show Hyunjin something, making the idol lean a bit closer to stare at whatever it was and from the way her lips pulled into a frown—it was something that had made her even more upset, somehow, “I went to your first fan signing event, and look—even the 1/3 one too! Look, if you would just give me a chance—”

“And that’s enough for you to say you love me?” your fingers clenched around your phone at the dry laugh Hyunjin let out, your patience wearing thin as the idol continued to push the poor girl. The girl stammered for a moment, making you slightly peek to find a look of disbelief on Hyunjin’s face—not at all seeming to be mocking the girl but actual concern, as if she wanted to actually get into the root of why she had confessed in the first place.

For a moment, once you heard her dry laugh—you thought that the girl had really lost it, with her idol mask dropped. But how she had carefully stared at the girl, how her fingers seemed to dig themselves into the hem of her jacket.. She was worried.

“You only love me.. Because I’m an idol?”

“Stop—I didn’t say that! You’re putting words into my mouth—why are you being such a bitch!?” Hyunjin visibly flinched at the sharp tone of the girl who fumed at her statement, making you also tense up in your spot.

This.. This isn’t supposed to be how it’s supposed to go. The unknown girl was just supposed to walk away crying, something along those lines but not hate on the girl—she says she loves her but.. This isn’t..

“Your name is Yoon Jiyeon, right?” the idol asked, inhaling deeply as the toxic girl stayed silent—giving Hyunjin enough time to straighten herself and give her a polite smile, “Jiyeon-ah, thank you for being my fan. But I think you should consider how you treat people first, be kinder to them—because if you end up actually liking someone, and this is exactly how you treat them.. Jiyeon-ah, you’ll end up alone.” you could feel the blood draining from your face at Hyunjin’s unfiltered words, knowing that it was enough to put the final nail in her career’s coffin if it ever got out.

And with the sharp sound of the girl’s hand connecting with Hyunjin’s cheek, your phone dropped in your hand and the sound made Hyunjin’s vacant eyes snap to yours, which quickly widened as she realized that it was you.

“I got that all on voice record—I knew this would happen, say goodbye to your career Kim Hyunjin!” the girl sneered at Hyunjin before turning to leave, which made her face you—the annoyed look on her face flashing into shock for a moment, until it snapped back to annoyance once more.

“What are you looking at, loser? Get lost!” she hissed as she walked closer to you, aiming to walk past you as your eyes stayed locked on the phone she shakily held in her hand.

What were you thinking?

“Yah! Give it back!”

You should’ve just minded your own business.

“No—How dare you humiliate me! You bitch!”

You just wanted to watch, like the usual.

“Run!” you felt a hand grab yours, dragging you away from the girl and the crushed phone by the side of the wall as your feet did it’s best to keep up with the speed of the girl that pulled you past the school gate—with the girl that you both had just left screaming as she practically pulled her hair out. The burning in your thighs didn’t cease, your head turning to face the image of the girl you had always watched from the fourth floor window—smooth dark brown strands of hair lightening just as the sun setting in front of you two caressed them, the cold evening slowly creeping in but that didn’t matter at the moment.

You just ran, wherever the girl was leading you through the side-walk with her laughter in the background—you just followed.

“..I can’t believe that just happened!”

She’s even more prettier up close.

“I really thought I was done for—you’re crazy, Y/N!”

Her voice.. How is it so soothing?

“I need to get a new phone..”

“Ah—give me a second,” you looked back at Kim Hyunjin who was now sitting next to you on the bench outside of the ice cream store, both of you holding onto a popsicle that was her treat as she fished something out of her pocket, reaching over to grab your free hand and place your phone which now had a cracked screen on it. You frowned at the sight which made Hyunjin laugh, leaning back on her seat as she looked across the street and to the view of the sun setting over the river—her eyes moving back to your figure as you sighed in relief when the device seemed to still be working, opening a series of spammed messages which you quickly replied to.

Hyunjin wondered who the contact name Ryujin was.

“I’ll get you a new phone on my next paycheck.” your alarmed eyes quickly snapped to Hyunjin’s unbothered ones, making you shake your head as the sides of her lips almost pulled into an amused smile—but she had stopped herself.

“That’s not necessary—I was actually on my way out when I decided to snoop around, It’d make me feel bad if you’d think this is your fault..”

“So? Feel bad then.” you gaped at the bluntness that came from the idol, not expecting that she wasn’t all cookie cutter—even with how she handled the girl from earlier, she didn’t have to act like this with everyone.. Or can she?

“Y/N-ah, you’re from class 1B right?” Hyunjin asked nonchalantly, as if you didn’t really have to reply because she knew everything already. Though it almost felt that way, you can never be too sure so you just nodded—looking at the scene in front of the both of you.

She didn’t really need more people staring at her at this point.

“This might sound stupid, since Heejin and I’s name’s are practically always mentioned during every assembly but—I’m Kim Hyunjin. Nice to finally meet you.”

Finally?

“How did you know my name? Hyunjin?” Hyunjin didn’t reply for a moment, so you turned to check up on her—apparently, she was just caught up staring at you before she blinked, forming an ‘o’ shape with her mouth. Furrowing her brows and looking as if she was trying to remember where exactly she had heard your name from, and when she had finally recalled it—she smiled at you.

“I was checking out clubs when we first transferred, you were the only one in the music room and a member approached me before I could talk to you. There weren’t any meetings that day apparently, they told me your name.” you knitted your brows in confusion, not being able to recall a memory of her—other than when you started watching them from your window of course—but this was oddly surprising, that she had known you way before you knew her apparently.

“Did they tell you, or did you ask?” you bit a piece off of your popsicle, not really seeing the question as a serious one—just a simple way of getting to talk with her more, but since Hyunjin didn’t respond you decided to apologize and tell her it was a stupid question to ask. But before you could even speak, Hyunjin laughed—more to herself than at your question, making you look at the grin plastered on the girl’s face.

“This can’t be real..”

“What can’t be real?” Hyunjin looked at you, something meaning to be said deep behind her eyes which made her laugh again and rise from the seat, glancing down at her melting yellow popsicle as she stood in front you—the sunlight casting an orange glow at the gentle eyes that had directed themselves at your curious ones.

“What?” you pressed further, making Hyunjin lean over to get in eye level with you as you did your best not to slightly move back because the position somehow made you a bit uneasy.

“I asked,” Hyunjin answered, making you release a barely audible hum in reply—counting down the seconds until she could finally give you some space to think, but as Hyunjin’s grin got bigger when you avoided her gaze she decided to give you what you want. Leaning back to her height and staring at the road behind her, “because I thought you were pretty.” she shrugged, making you almost drop your popsicle in your hand.

“But then I started to look for you everywhere, you know—not just in school, but mostly in school. You’re really hard to look for, do you know that, Y/N?” you gripped the wooden stick in your hands as you tried to think of what to reply but Hyunjin got back down to your level, hands resting on her knees as she eyed your popsicle stick and her own before trying to get you to look at her.

“You’re always in your classroom, in lunch you barely stay in the cafeteria with your friends—I see you in the library, in the courtyard, but after a few minutes you’re moving to another place. Y/N, the year is already over and you’re still all over the place, around this time you should already be home—”

“I was in the faculty, my adviser said she needed to talk to me.” you mumbled, which made her raise her brow and sigh as she looked at you—who continued to refuse to meet her eyes. How was it that the girl you've been watching from afar since her debut—was actually watching you at the same time? Even before you had been watching?

“..right, but you do know what this means right?” you turned to look at the expectant gaze of the idol, an inquisitive look on her features as you stared back with an contemplative expression.

“You’re confessing to me?”

“Yup, I know it sounds weird but—I just feel it, and I don’t even know you that well so.. There has to be a reason, right? I was planning to confess in graduation too!” you sighed, looking away from the girl as she stood back up on the soles of her feet to finish up the remains of her half-melted popsicle as she waited for your reply.

“Is it.. Because I’m cool? I’m pretty? Because I like the things you like..?”

“Hey! That’s not fair—” Hyunjin’s heart fluttered at the sight of your lips pulled up into a grin, followed by a laugh at the recollection of what had just happened and how that was practically the most odd thing that had ever happened to you—other than being scouted to be a soloist for one of the biggest idol companies in the entertainment industry.

Which reminded you..

“I’m sorry,” the idol tensed in her spot, the light feeling in her chest slowly disappearing as your smile turned into a somber one, “You don’t deserve to have your career hurt for liking a person of the same sex as you are.” you stood up from your seat, eyeing the darkened sky before meeting the look of disbelief on Hyunjin’s face.

“Is it because you’re.. Straight?”

“What? No—it’s because you’re an idol—”

“So? You’re not, is it because I’m—"

“Hyunjin, please listen,” you had placed a hand on her shoulder which made the girl’s wry smile quickly wiped from her face at the sight of the look of frustration on your features, inhaling deeply before shaking her slightly, “it’s not that I don’t feel anything for you—but this is not the right time to be thinking about yourself. There are literal lives on the line if you let yourself have this—it’s not just you, not just your members.. But your team, your employees, your fans that only wish the best for you until you reach the top.”

“I have feelings for you, Y/N. Can’t you see that—”

“I can see that you do, Hyunjin. But,” you stared at your hand on her shoulder, trying to find the right words to say as she continued to stare at you in anticipation—no matter how much it had pained her, she had seemed to need to hear it from you unless she wanted to carry it with her until her last breath. Taking your hand off her shoulder and staring at her with a determined look on your face, meeting the clear dejection in her eyes, “not right now, this can’t be about us—because we’re almost there. We’re so close to reaching our dreams and.. We’d just both get in the way of that, you need to let this go.”

Hyunjin just stood there, staring at you as you reached for your bag on the ground—taking in a deep breath before meeting her eyes for the last time, thinking if you should say any more to the girl that stared at you with a blank expression on her face.

“You’ll achieve great things, Kim Hyunjin. I’ll see you around.”

You stared down at the cue cards in your hand, biting the inside of your cheek before looking away from it to look through the windows and find your fans and LOONA’s fans excitedly waving at you—it was heartwarming to see, both of you and the group’s fans in such good terms under such bad weather conditions yet they still looked thrilled to be watching this unfold. The main MC stood next to you on the stage for an opening speech about the group as you plastered a small smile on your lips as she did so, completely clueless about the whirlwind of thoughts you were currently having at the memory that had played nonstop in your mind since your team had mentioned which group you were assigned to.

Ryujin’s cackles echoed through the memory as well, remembering how you had met her in the Tteokbokki place with distraught features—looking absolutely stunned as you sat there in front of her and told her what had just happened. And once it was publicly announced that you had gotten LOONA.. Maybe you shouldn’t have picked up that phone call from your best friend that had her laughing through most of your conversation, and she even called you earlier to wish you the best of luck—but to also laugh into the receiver as well.

Though you and Hyunjin had never spoken to each other since her confession, it didn’t stop you from giving her group your support. It wasn’t hard at all, they were great and you actually were into their concept accompanied by the lore—you even went out of your way on one of your lives to converse with your fans about their theories, and of course this had reached the members.

And with the members hearing about you, singing a few of your songs—Heejin mentioned that you did indeed come from the same school, that you were in the class directly in front of theirs. There were numerous questions directed at Hyunjin in that live as well but you were quick to leave the clip, not wanting to see if she had actually ended up hating you or whatnot. But as you went about your days, your fans hadn’t mentioned anything so you had guessed that the girl didn’t really speak much of you—which was great, that means that what happened that evening was just between the two of you and had involved no one else.

Though it did have you wondering if this was her purposely brushing the encounter off, if she had done this because she knew this would hurt both of your reputations—or she had really saw you in a different light, the opposite of how she had seen you back then. It didn’t matter now, really—idols have disputes, it happens, but in truth it would sting if it’s between you and Hyunjin. You were only looking out for the girl, you were more concerned about how she had seen her career than you had wanted to keep yours clean—you saw the surprised look on her face once you were crowded by paparazzi in the ceremony, she should’ve known your intentions were clear by then.

But if she ended up hating you for it, there wasn’t really anything you can do.

“Im Yeojin!” the MC announced as the nine other members stood on the sides, the Maknae waving in a formal manner to everyone and even going out of her way to walk over to you and shake your hand—which had you laughing in no time, shaking your head as the girl threw a heart sign at the camera before it was your turn to announce the next member.

Of course, it had to be you.

“Kim Hyunjin.” you couldn’t meet her eyes so you settled on looking down at the cue cards, hoping that both of your fans hadn’t caught up on your aversion by going through the words written in them just before the woman next to you announced Heejin’s name. You looked up from the cards in your hand, expecting to find Heejin already in place—only to directly look into Hyunjin’s eyes, making the both of you quickly look away from one another, with Hyunjin almost tripping on her own feet as she scrambled to stand next to a concerned Yeojin.

“Unnie, are you okay? You look pale.”

“Be quiet.” Hyunjin shushed the member, the mic catching the nervousness in her tone that echoed through the feedback of everyone’s earpieces—making her members glance at the girl just as they did their usual greeting before looking at the main MC who continued introducing the girls as you smiled at the camera.

“So how are you feeling right now Y/N? With this being the first time you’re guest hosting?”

“I’m a bit nervous, actually—it’s the cue cards that I’m afraid to mess up, I’ve always been a fan of LOONA so..” Chuu squealed from her spot while Yves grabbed onto Olivia Hye’s arm to start dramatically singing your most recent song, the intimidating girl making you flustered when she returned the girl’s energy. The members ended up trying to one-up one another for your attention—except for a silent Kim Hyunjin who had a small smile on her lips as she just nodded—so the main MC quickly asked them to take their seats before it got too much about you than the group. The event had passed faster than you’d expect it to, even though you and Hyunjin barely had any interaction—her members were too soft to ignore, they made your first hosting experience go smoother than you could have ever imagined it.

But if you thought you could easily slip out of the girls’ hold that fast, you should think again—because just before they were supposed to make their way to the dressing room to get ready for their performance, they were quick to engage a conversation with you which almost felt as if it would never end until their staff called for them. So you took this as your cue to leave, bowing before turning to head to the stage when you felt fingers wrap around your wrist—making you turn in your heels as you were dragged into a less crowded area in the set.

“What—”

“I still have feelings for you.” you choked when you met Hyunjin’s glare, your eyes locked on the idol who looked almost as if she sprinted from the dressing room the second she was done getting changed—because she had donned her stage outfit, contrasting her members that just lingered to talk with you.

“This isn’t the right time to be talking about this—”

“You told me to forget about it, right? But how can I do that if I see you everywhere, hear you everywhere—do you hate me this much? Y/L/N Y/N!?” Hyunjin’s grip tightened around your wrist but you didn’t wince, the image of the girl’s eyes slowly brimming with tears made you glance at the staff who passed by yet didn’t seem to see you two at all—so you made a move to shift the distraught girl even further out of view so you stood in a way that blocked her from being seen by anyone. Placing your hand on her own that were on your wrist to give her a calculated look.

“Don’t cry here.”

“It's still about them? After all these years you still don't think about yourself? Y/N—"

"I was watching you, before—the same way you did with me," you carefully told her, watching her angered expression slowly turn into a look of confusion as you felt her fingers loosen around your wrist. A small smile on your lips as you scanned her features, "after that evening, I found myself doing the same thing you did—with looking for you everywhere."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Hyunjin grumbled, sniffling as you melted at the sight, even though it was a painful scene to watch. Reaching over to tilt her head up so her tears don't smear her makeup, she looked even more confused but still let you place your fingers on her chin.

"I guess you can say that your confession made me realize that I wasn't only watching you because I wanted to prepare myself for when I become an idol," you swallowed sharply, trying your best not to lose your train of thought at the sight of Hyunjin continuing to stare at you, "I think it's just funny how the first thing that came to my mind after I debuted was that I needed to talk with you. You know, after I told you to forget about it."

"Is this.. You confessing that you like me?" Hyunjin took your hand off her chin, holding it firmly as she squinted her eyes at you as if trying to see if you were kidding or not.

"Why? Does it sound like a setup? I'm trying to tell you I like you back, it took some time to think—"

"But you still won't date me?" you opened your mouth to reply as Hyunjin raised her brow, swiftly grabbing ahold of your neck to pull you closer to her and making you yelp, almost actually falling into her hold—but Hyunjin was strong enough to hold you both in place, the closeness of your faces making your mind flash back to that evening but also fully recognize how mature her face has gotten.

"But you still can't kiss me?"

"H-hey, I told you—I've just come into terms with liking you, you're pushing your luck, Kim Hyunjin—"

"You're the one pushing your luck, I've liked you for years and you think I'd just let you get away with acting like this?"

"Yah! Kim Hyunjin! Where did that girl run off to.." you had reflexively pushed Hyunjin off of you, making her stumble back as you turned to face a clueless Haseul who had her brows knitted—but as soon as she saw you her eyes lit up and a warm smile eased your flustered state.

"Y/N! Have you seen Hyunjin anywhere? She left the dressing room earlier looking a bit under the weather, but Vivi and Gowon are almost done.. If you see her can you—"

"I'm here, I'll catch up later." you felt your heart stop once Haseul's eyes moved from you to her member, to then move back to you—making her smile turn into a smirk before she nodded.

"Right.. Later." Haseul snorted before waving at you and meeting Heejin down the hallway who was complaining about Yeojin bothering her—the sight looking almost like a sibling fight.

"So.. Where were we?"

"Goodbye, Kim Hyunjin."

"What? No! You can't do this to me—I want my payback! Y/N!"

Long time no see, long time no see~

A week passed by too quickly, I thought I posted a few days ago—turns out it’s been a week and three days? But I’ve been very busy this week so it was honestly weird how I went in and out of the writing mood when I had so much on my plate, I wanted to write to relieve some stress but I guess it just frustrated me even more—it’s funny lmao.

New template! Do you guys like the inverted borders or.. Through my screen it looks better than the first one—maybe more cleaner? And I like it better because of that? Oddly enough when I changed it to the new one it reminded me of this version of Lightning Mcqueen.

(Did I ruin the OS for you guys? Yes? Ok, sorry then—Lighting’s staying though lmao.)

Also, new template because I got into photoshop, and now there is no way you’ll ever see the gifs in non-high definition form no longer—I’ve also learnt how to color change objects in videos for my gifs, (and when I tell you guys that I’ve thought of another Jinsoul OS that I thought would be a cool concept.. I keep Jinsoul-baiting I’m so sorry, she just has the greatest ideas from me, she’s not even my bias but her power.) and I’ve also learned how to change the header colors in the actual color hex of the members. All that while I’m balancing my irl life in a span of a week! Still can’t believe that even on my free time—I’m still pushing myself to be productive.

Also! By the way—we’ve reached 100 you guys! And with that—a blog that I’ve binge read obsessively before I made this blog is part of you guys. I’m too shy to tag so if you’re reading this..

IreallyloveyourworkandIhopeyouwritemoreaboutloonabecauseIlovethemsomuchandIwentanononyourblogtorequestonceanditwasablackpinkonesoI’msureitgotthroughbecauseitwaswaybackwhenyouhadroséinblackpinkhouseasyourpfpthankyouforyourserviceIcan’tbelieveyouactuallyfollowedthisblog.

How about you guys, what have you been up to? Did the week pass by smoothly with you guys too? I really feel like something shifted in this week for some reason, but maybe that’s just me you know? But damn, you guys really grow fast don’t you? I remember feeling so shy when we just had around 10 but—you guys..! :(

I want to keep writing more for this blog, I have so many ideas yet it’s as if only time will tell when I’ll write it exactly the way I want it to.. Because fics like this was done in one seating and—I want to put more thought into it so it would be clearer! More expressions! But for now.. We can settle for this, yeah? At least we know she’s still writing, that’s a place to always start.

Laters (hopefully for not more than a week again),

JJ.

>ovc: loonatheworld (170329)

https://youtu.be/o25-mCo2RkM

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awu-wangxuan · 3 years

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I've watched the first two episodes of the veil (kdrama) and I'm obsessed ???? hence I need to get some thoughts off me because ASJDVKFJGFK this drama seems to be sooooo good and interesting and I'm already hooked to its premise!

so first of all: I was not expecting and nor was I ready for such a huge snack to be given to us as a male lead. I am absolutely not familiar with the male actor, I personally have never seen him acting and omg. the shock I had when he appeared for the first time ??? this drama needs to put some warnings ahead and not for the gorey or more disturbing scenes, BUT FOR HIM. like watch out, this dude is gonna come with his huge ass and ripped af muscles and do the utmost to make you feel like he's impregnated you through a screen. i was left speechless, astonished, incapable of putting together any coherent thought and yeah. just watch out for him.

secondly, it was really long since the last time I watched a spy drama/tv show, so the fact that the veil seems to be very well made and nicely paced is already super intriguing for me. I love spy dramas and I love them even more when the male lead is as good looking and hot as nam goong min. besides his looks, he is also super fitting for the role that he's playing, like there wasn't a single minute where I doubted his ability in playing a spy. he looks like he was born for this role, idk he's just so perfect!!! also we have gangs and drug lords involved, lots of action, a little bit of disturbing / more gorey scenes which make the whole thing look a lot more real ... I mean, just looking at quality, it seems like you're watching a western tv show or movie and I'm in no way saying this because those shows are better, but mostly because of how explicit / fast pace the content is. the action scenes are phenomenal as well, and I love how we have a male lead that's not your typical kdrama male lead that solely goes down the road of goodness and kindness and whose only aim is to protect those who are weak, but more like a hunk that wouldn't think twice before punching you if that would get him closer to his aim. he's super goal-oriented and cold and aggressive, but I also appreciate how they didn't shy away from showing his weaker sides. like his loneliness, his ptsd, depression, everything which comes along with his job. it feels much more real and authentic to watch something like this, so truly, good job to the script writers!

they didnt show much of the other characters but I'm already in love with yoo je yi!!! now tbh I didn't understand who is the actual female lead of the drama, but if it's her it would perfect!! she gives the right amount of contrast with han ji hyuk's character and I already love those little glimpse of chemistry we got from the first two episodes!! I believe that, if well developed, they could make a really interesting couple and I don't necessarily mean it in a romantic way (although I would like it better if they had a little bit romance ... it's just that I don't think this is where the drama wants is heading towards). I mean, she has the right personality to make him open a little a bit but also to oppose his black-and-white way of looking at things, his recklessness and toughness. so I'm really looking forward to whatever these two will do as partners and to how staying with each other will change their personality. also, I think soo yeon is the other female lead of the drama, but I don't kinda get her role so far. hopefully they'll give us more hints on whether she's going to be a positive or negative character, in all frankness I'd appreciate the second option more, just to have more variety in the cast.

regarding the plot, the premises were laid in a very stable way, the storyline doesn't seem to be rushed and I feel like almost everyone was given a good enough introduction and time to be 'settled down' as characters. I'm absolutely loving the dark vibes, the politics and the intrigues, the whole idea of guessing who's the traitor inside the organisations, etc (so cliché, but this shit gets me every time). some things aren't exactly clear to me, as the fact of why on earth does a top class spy have his identity, name, face and position revelead to the enemies and is still somehow allowed to work on the field, knowing he could get killed in any moment, but oh well that's kdrama for you.

so, to sum up: I'm loving this drama so far and I hope it will keep its initial pace and level of intelligence and not just turn into trash after few episodes. it does seem to be very promising in my opinion and the fact that the total number of episodes is 12 is kinda relieving me from the fear of them dragging the story in the second half. I definitely recommend it to all of you, especially because I'm craving for more thoughts / opinions / fan content from y'all <3

ps I see how in kdramas 2021 is slowly turning into the year of the dilfs, I see it and I'm absolutely not complaining

#the veil #kdrama #han ji hyuk #seo soon yeon #yoo je yi #nam goong min #park ha sun #kim ji eun #pls hmu if you're watching the drama as well. lets talk about nam goong min's muscles #mbc the veil

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dreadpoetssociety · 4 years

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Fevers Don’t Exist

TW: Fever ? (I’m not sure what counts for triggers so pls lmk if I miss anything)

Prompt: hi!! could u do one maybe where like, the reader is an actress on supernatural and she plays like their younger sister on the show or something and she gets sick at a con or something? Thanks !!

NOTE: Hey guys, I’m alive!!!! I know I have a lot of Spencer prompts atm, but it’s really hard to write them when I’m not like, hyper focused on Criminal Minds. I am going to try though! So sorry I’ve left so many of you in the wind, I am a very inconsistent person, my bad. But here’s this! It’s REALLY bad because I’m terrible at being realistic but like idk it’s something.

I really don’t even know what to put for tags on this.

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Ah, September. You knew what came along every September, and looked forward to it for the first eight months of every year. Secaucus, New Jersey. You loved every con you went to, truly. Everyone was so nice, you love staying in hotels, panels are such a great time, the whole thing. It's a great experience outside of the set to get connected with fans. And, they loved you almost as much as you loved them. You were typically closer in age, since you were still just a teenager. You also started out as a fan of the show before somehow snatching a role, so you really were with them at one point. Everything that excites them excited you just as much. And, you loved making friends with them. You weren't allowed to be reckless with your phone number, so you made a snapchat that you shared exclusively with con goers, whom you made swear to secrecy. It was like a club, and you just enjoyed genuinely talking to everyone. But, when you woke up that first morning, you knew it was going to be a long day. Your body ached, and you were still pretty exhausted. You had a fever, but didn't really know if it was a fever because you were still young, and God forbid you ever decided to recognize the signs of you being sick. It was almost like a form of denial, not knowing. You were sweating, but freezing, and your throat felt particularly dry. Your headache rested underneath your eyes for the most part, to which you just blamed on being tired. Your stomach didn't hurt, but you definitely weren't hungry. Even though you hadn't felt exactly 100% the past days before, and you obviously weren't feeling right now, you just deduced that it was all because you were tired, and had a late flight in. As a responsible person does, of course. You didn't even bother taking any medicine for it, because hey, you obviously weren't sick, you'd feel better in a bit, and you didn't have any, so why waste the time, right?

You groggily got dressed and met up with "the boys" (even though they were all older than you) for the free breakfast downstairs, in a separate room, since fans did happen to stay in the same hotel. You grabbed some Cheerios, only to conspicuously throw them away after.

"You good, Y/N?" Jared asked out loud, gaining the attention of Jensen, Misha, and Alex. You could feel their eyes burning through your skin. Or, maybe that was the fever. It had to be their eyes, you convinced yourself, you didn't have a fever. You were fine.

"Yeah, why?" you asked, faking the perk in your voice and confused eyes. Your eyes felt really heavy, you noticed.

"You just... You look exhausted. And pale." he said, "And you threw away that cereal without eating any of it."

You looked down at yourself as an effect for what you were about to say, "Wow, well that's one way to make me self-conscious. I thought I looked kind of poppin'." you laughed slightly, trying to play it off.

"W-wait, no that's- that's not what I meant! You look fine, I just-" he was embarrassed. You and the others chuckled.

"I'm kidding. I'm all good, just went to bed late, y'know?" you smiled. It was hard to try and mask the rasp in your voice, and doing so made you feel the need to cough, so you downed some water until it dialed down a bit. He nodded. In your mind, you blessed your acting skills, thinking you got away with it. What you didn't know was that Misha, Jensen, and Jared, as fathers do, knew every trick in the book, and each noted to keep an eye on you. Not to mention, they'd been acting far longer than you had, and could just tell when one switches into a character. They all figured that if you weren't sick now, you would be in days to come, and exchanged glances with each other, while Alex innocently continued to chew on his toast.

"Well, if you're tired, I don't think you have a panel or anything for another hour or something, maybe you could catch up on some sleep then." Jared suggested. You shrugged.

"Nah," you said, "I've got photo-ops in like, twenty minutes. I should actually probably get going. I'll catch up later!"

You left with a wave, and disappeared into the hotel somewhere. You stopped in your room, allowing yourself finally to set free the coughs living in the back of your throat. You blamed it on your throat being dry since you didn't drink enough water. Not on germs. So, you grabbed two water bottles from the small fridge in your room, and left, making your way towards the convention center.

You felt slightly better during photo-ops, which just confirmed in your mind that it was impossible that you were sick right now. You smiled and talked to everyone. There was one girl, who introduced herself as Meredith, who stuck out in your mind. She gave you this super cool hand painted keychain, which you very excitedly put on your keys instantly.

"Dude, I've been looking for a cool keychain. Not just one of those janky ones you find at like 7-11, like a cool one. This is so exciting." you smiled genuinely. You had just recently bought yourself a car, and thought that your keys looked a little lonely, and searched for hours on Etsy for something to spice it up a bit. A weird obsession, thinking about it now.

She laughed, "I'm glad you like it!"

"Hell, yeah! Now, are there any poses you wanna do? Or do you just want to hit that casual look? I could make it look like I'm meeting you." you stupidly rambled. One of your traits that was so widely known was how funny and awkward (in a good way) that you were. It took you a long time to get to that point, though, because you were always anxious about meeting others. You still are every now and then, but it's different here.

"I was just hoping to get a hug." she said, "If that's okay with you."

"Yeah, that's cool!" you wrapped your arms around each other and shot the camera a grin. The girl looked a bit confused.

"Hey," she said, quietly, "are you like, okay? You feel really hot."

Nervously, you replied, "Oh, no, yeah totally fine. I'm just wearing two layers, and it's getting spicy in here."

"Yeah," she answered, "don't push yourself, okay?"

"I won't, thank you. It was really nice meeting you!"

"You, too! Thanks!" she waved goodbye and you moved on to the last few people in line. She was right, though. You realized that you felt worse than you did when you walked in. You thought it had gone away for a while, but now it was just amplified. You noticed you were cold again, but that you were sweating as well. It must've just been the temperature in the room. These conventions aren't always able to keep a steady temp in the entire building, right?

This day, you didn't have much to do. Most of your events were on the other days to come. You had one panel in a few hours, and then a panel with Jared, Jensen, and Misha a few hours after that, and then bam, the day was over. You just had to get through those two events. Just two.

Two, events. And both were an hour. So, two hours out of the day. Rookie work. Yet, as your panel approached, the headache had expanded from under your eyes to anywhere that there was space to hurt, your throat ached and so did your lungs from how much you were going off somewhere to cough in privacy, your body felt heavy, you couldn't tell if you were hot or cold at this point it was some weird combination of both, your stomach hurt just slightly, the world was moving around you a bit more than it usually would, and the fever you "didn't" have had climbed a degree, probably two. And, at some point during the day, you got pretty congested. You felt like you could just fall asleep at any moment. Jared and Jensen happened to be walking by where you had been waiting by yourself, away from any congoers or employees, and noticed that even though you were leaning against a wall, you somehow were still swaying.

"Y/N?" Jensen called out, worried. You heard him, you knew you were supposed to respond, but didn't know how. Maybe you did have a fever, and maybe you sort of let it out of control. It was like you were comprehending them, but not at the same time. You heard everything, but it just swept right through your feverish mind. The walked in front of you and examined you within seconds. You felt Jared's cold, really abnormally large man hand sweep your hair back and land on your forehead.

"J, she's burning up." you felt another hand on your face. You, quite exhaustedly, swatted it away. They couldn't figure out how it'd gotten so bad so quickly. You were sick this morning, but not to this degree. They knew then that you had just shrugged it off all day, and your teenage fever brain probably didn't even think to take any kind of medicine or anything for it, even if you were trying to hide it.

"I'm good. Just tired. Fevers don’t exist." you finally mumbled, taking a few deep breathes, which you hadn't really been able to do in a bit without being rudely interrupted by a bone-shaking cough. It felt nice, almost. The boys sighed at you and shook their heads.

"Y/N, you should go back to your room and get some rest. We can bring you some stuff that'll help." Jared suggested. You shook your head and opened your eyes, which somehow felt even heavier.

"Nah," you said to them, "I've got a panel, I think, in like, I ‘dunno, some minutes or something. Something I-" you pushed yourself off the wall to try and make your way somewhere, but stumbled a step or two, which result in Jensen and Jared instinctively to grab you in order to keep you steady.

"Like hell we're letting you go to that, Y/N, you can't even form a sentence, or stand for that matter. You're out of your mind. We're going to bring you back now, we'll take care of your panel thing." Jensen stated pretty sternly. You were about to fight back, and they could see it, but you coughed a few times, and they could almost feel it in their own chests. You just nodded in defeat.

"Yeah, maybe I could just like, sleep, for an hour or two." you whispered, tiredly. The two were still holding you steady, and could see you already falling asleep before even going anywhere.

"Or six, by the looks of it." Jared joked lightly.

"Poor kid." Jensen said to Jared as the were walking out of your room. They helped you get there, and you were gone before you even saw the bed, "Why do they always have to pretend like they aren't sick? Look where it gets them."

"Don't know, man. You can't talk, though. You literally tell people you are immune to illness." Jared laughed quietly, shutting you door.

"Well I am. I am the perfect example of health. I don't get sick."

"Yeah," Jared rolled his eyes, "Right. Watch you catch what Y/N has. You practically carried her all the way here. There's no way you're escaping it." Walking towards the center, the back way of course, Jensen scoffed, "Please, germs take one look at me and know not to mess this up. And, by the logic, that means you're already infected, too. So, tell me, princess, what sort of soup do you want spoon-fed?"

Again, Jared rolled his eyes, and the two laughed. They weren't making fun of you, they were making fun of each other, and knew that you would've wanted in on that action.

"Y/N probably would've destroyed us if she heard that. Something along the longs of 'You want me to tuck you in? Carry you bridal style?'" Jared pitched his voice a tone higher for it. Again, the two men laughed.

They made their way backstage of what's supposed yo be your panel, and informed the crew about what was going on. They were just going to fill in for you, probably tell a few embarrassing stories.

When they made their way through the curtain, the crowd shouted. They were obviously excited to see the two leads, but also were obviously confused. "Alright, you're probably confused." Jensen stated the obvious, "Because obviously, we look nothing like Y/N, and thank God she does not look like us." The crowd laughed.

"Anyway, Y/N can't make it today. She's really sick-" the crowd cut Jared off with a unison "awe." People yelled out that they hoped she felt better, tell her to take care of herself, and so on.

"Yeah, poor kid looked like she was just going to fall asleep right where she was standing. She literally tried to come anyway, like, kid, you're making no sense. Y/N couldn't really fight against us, though, so she's sleeping now." Jensen explained, "So we came here to chat in her stead, but just know she really was planning on coming. That kid loves you guys." and again, the "awe" rolled through the crowd.

"If she wasn't sick, she could totally kick both your-" the last word was cut off, but was implied anyway, someone screamed from the crowd, which resulted in laughter.

"Yeah, probably. Even if we were stronger than her," sarcastically, of course, "she'd still beat us. Kid's too fast, and I'm too old." Jared laughed.

In the last ten minutes of the panel, Jared decided to give you call. Not only to check in on you, but so you could at least say hi to your crowd. When you heard the phone ring, you groggily opened your eyes and aimlessly reached for it.

"Hello?" you answered. Jared almost frowned at how sick you sounded, even with just one word.

"Y/N?" Jensen stepped in, "It's Jensen."

"Unfortunate." you sighed exhaustedly. It was joke, a really tired one, but still enough to make the crowd laugh.

"We're here at your panel, we thought you might want to say hi." Jared said loudly, holding the speaker of his phone to the microphone.

"Panel?" you asked. Panel? What panel? Your delirious mind was clearly confused, "Who's that?"

"Y/N, the con. The convention panel?" Jensen actually sounded worried. They probably should've thought to give you some sort of medicine to do something about the fever you had before they'd left.

"Oh," you closed your eyes again, almost falling asleep, before remembering finally what it was they meant, and after a moment, "Oh! Crap, the panel thing, I'm late."

"No, Y/N, stay there, we've got it covered remember? You can't come. You can say hi to them, though." Jensen interjected quickly.

"Okay, hi guys." you just followed as told.

The crowd responded with a series of hello's.

"'M really sorry. I hope they aren't boring you." the two men could practically hear you closing your eyes. The crowd responded in inaudible chatter. Jensen and Jared walked from the mic for a second.

"Sorry if we woke you, kid." Jared apologized, having just realized they probably could've left you alone, "W also just wanted to check in. See how you're doing."

"How are you feeling?" Jensen asked, but got a mumbled word in response, "Alright, well, just go back to sleep, we'll be up there soon."

Jared hung up the phone, and the two began to answer the last few questions and close up. They waved their goodbyes to the crowd, and started heading back your way.

"Jensen, you got any over the counters with you? Thermometers or anything? All I've got is Advil, and I don't even know what's really bothering her yet other than that cough and being tired."

"Yup. Danneel always makes me carry literally an entire medicine cabinet, just for these moments. I'll go get 'em and meet you there. It'd probably do her some good to eat something, too. I don't know if she's got like, a stomach virus thing going on, though." Jensen answered.

"I'll see what she'll say and let you know."

The two parted ways, and Jared made his way to you. Even though he'd only talked to you just a few minutes before, you were dead to the world by the time he opened the door. The room was boiling, and Jared looked over to the thermostat to see that you'd at some point put it on to 90 degrees.

"Jesus, Y/N, I know you've got a fever, but damn." he said, more so to himself than to you. He looked over at you after turning it down to see you curled beneath what looked like any blanket you could find. He came over and started removing the blankets slowly, and shook you gently to wake you up.

"Y/N, wake up for a minute, it's Jared."

"'Mm." was all you said, until you realized your layers of warmth had been moved, "What're doing? It's cold."

"Y/N, you're dripping in sweat. It's the fever making you cold."

"I don't have a fever." you retorted, "I'm good. Just tired."

"Kid, you've been tired the whole day. You've been sleeping this whole time." he tried rationalizing.

"I have?" you questioned, closing you eyes again. Jared put his hand to your forehead again. Somehow, it was warmer than the first time he'd done it before the panel. It was then that Jensen finally appeared, a whole bag of things in hand, "Could you bring the thermometer over?"

"Yeah, gotcha." He walked over and rummaged through the bag at the same time, pulling out a thermometer.

"Y/N, we need to take your temperature." Jensen said.

"No need." you said, "'M not sick."

"You are so obviously sick, I'm not asking." again with that stern voice. Jared gave him a "Hey, she's sick, back off a little" sort of look, but it had worked, and you let them take your temp. They were almost shocked when the thing beeped at 103.

"Should we take her to a hospital? That's way too high." Jared asked.

"If it gets any higher, yes, but let's see if we can bring it down first." Jensen replied.

"No hospitals." you demanded, opening your eyes and glaring at them.

"We aren't bringing you yet, Y/N, but I need you to eat this so you can take some meds." he held out two pieces of toast that he must've brought from his room. You hated toast even when you weren't sick.

"I'm not really hungry."

"I know, but it'll help. You haven't told us what's bothering you yet, either." Jared responded.

"Nothing's-" you coughed a few times, a bit violently, "bothering me." "We can see that." Jensen said sarcastically.

"Everything's bothering me." you whispered, giving up.

"Your stomach hurt?" Jensen asked. You waved your hand from side to side to signal a so-so, "Think you'll get sick at all?"

"No, it's not like that, I don't think." you breathed out, another cough escaping you. You took a few bites out of the toast. It made you uncomfortable, but it was then that you realized you probably felt that way since you really hadn't eaten much that day or the one before, which probably contributed to the splitting headache. It didn't go away after, either though. You pushed yourself up. You almost fell over, but Jared put a hand out for you.

"Alright, good. Take this. I'm going to be frank, it tastes disgusting." Jensen handed over a small cup of liquid, "Sometimes, if you take it like a shot, it helps. But you shouldn't know how to take shots, but if you do it, I won't judge." And so you did, causing the two to chuckle slightly at you.

"You were right, about the sleep thing." you slumped back onto the bed heavily, like a brick.

"When am I ever wrong?" Jensen asked, "Don't answer that, actually."

But you were already sleeping again, and the boys decided to stay nearby for now. The next panel wasn't for another few hours anyway, and they just didn't want you to be alone. Also, incase you were wrong about the toast, and it decided to make its return. Jared's phone began to ring loudly, to which he very quickly tried to answer so his obnoxious ringtone wouldn't wake you up again, not that you wouldn't have just fallen back asleep anyway.

"Misha? Hey, what's up?" Jared answered. Jensen walked over to hear what was going on on the other side of the line, but Jared just decided to put it on speaker.

"Where are you guys? I haven't seen you all day. Felicia, Alex, and I are going out for lunch, we were wondering if you guys want to come. I tried calling Y/N, but she didn't answer, so." he rambled.

"That's because Y/N's not feeling well." Jensen said, giving him a solution to his predicament of not being answered, "We're with her right now, so we'll have to pass."

"She's sick? Is she okay?"

"Yeah, I think so. She's just got this crazy fever we've been trying to bring down. Thinking about it now, Jensen, we should probably check it again."

"A fever?"

"It's been at 103 degrees for like, two hours. At least for what we know of. She's probably had one all day, but as a dumb teenager does, she just tried to ignore it."

"If it goes up you should-"

"Yeah, we know," Jared said, "we're trying really hard to avoid that, though. Also, she'll definitely fight against it, I don't know."

Jensen, from the other side of the room at the sound of a beeping thermometer, could be heard on Misha's end, "It went down, finally. 102.2."

"Thank God, I was getting worried."

"Should I come there? Do you guys need any help?" Misha asked.

"I mean you can, but I think we're good. She's just been trying to sleep it off the whole time, so not much is really going on." Jensen was closer to the phone now, "Like, she's got this cough, a headache, and you can hear how congested she sounds, but mostly I think she's just exhausted. I honestly don't know how because she's just been sleeping for hours."

"Fatigue."

"Yeah, poor kid. I don't think I've ever seen her so tired, it almost makes me tired to be honest." Jensen joked.

"Maybe you're just getting sick." Jared slipped in.

"Not possible. I am immune."

"Nobody is immune, Jensen." Misha sighed.

"I'm not nobody." he shrugged.

"Alright, well, we're going to get lunch then. If you need anything let me know, and tell her I hope she feels better." Misha concludes.

"We will, thanks Misha." and with that, Jared hung up. For a few more hours, the two hung around. They were there when you woke from some fever dreams, and when you needed a cough drop, or twelve, and wake you up every now and then to check your temperature, which raised and dropped and raised and dropped, but currently was at a very steady 102.4. But, soon enough, it was time for them to leave for the last panel of the day, and unsurprisingly, you tried to follow suit.

"Y/N, we gotta go, but we'll be back in about an hour from the panel." Jared said. You took a deep breath and sluggishly pushed yourself to the side of the bed. Having been sick, and not having sat up in a few hours, the blood rushed from your head, leaving you dizzy.

"What're you doing?" Jensen asked.

"The panel. I missed the last one I should go to this one. I feel okay." you yawned, then coughed slightly.

"Y/N, really, you shouldn't even think about pushing it like that." Jared said. Jensen walked over to you, half on the bed, clearly trying to steady yourself just from the movement of sitting up. The spinning room honestly almost made the toast make a reprise, and you hiccupped, and held your breath.

"Hey," Jensen grabbed a can quickly, noticing, "are you going to be sick?"

Giving it a minute, it went away, and you shook you head no, causing a huge tension to leave the room.

"Alright, well, remember how you said I was right all the time earlier?" Jensen pun the can down.

"No, must've been the fever." you half joked, causing Jared to laugh.

"Alright- well- okay, shut up. We agreed I'm always right, and that I was right about needing sleep, so I say you need some more." Jensen demanded rather than suggested.

"Yeah, or at least lay around and do nothing. I can't imagine ever sleeping as much as you just did." Jared joked, pushing you very gently back down, with his hand on your back, knowing you would just hit the bed without it. Your eyes were heavy again, and your throat was painfully dry, and you coughed. Your aching head also agreed with the two of them to your dismay.

"Maybe just a bit more." you mumbled, "A few minutes."

"Yeah a few minutes, sure." Jared smiled, knowing you were probably going to knock out for a few hours once again. You opened your eyes again.

"You think," you coughed, "that they'll be mad?

"Who?" Jensen asked.

Feeling pretty sick, you said, "That I don't go? I don’t feel really good."

Ah, the fever comes to play once again, it seems, but the two felt some sort of triumph now that you've at least admitted to being sick, even if it's been hours. It concerned them, though, if you felt bad enough to admit it.

"No, they'll be fine about it. We'll be back soon. Misha or Alex might come in to check on you, alright?" Jared answered, to which you nodded.

They weren't gone long. You spent half the next day sleeping, too, until you could stand without swaying. You did sneak back to the con, against Jensen and Jared's orders, since you really didn't break that fever and cough for a few more days, only to be caught after a tweet of you at the con was trending and the cast caught wind of it. But, eventually, you were better, and got the chance to help Jared take care of an "always immune" Jensen. And he was more stubborn than you were.

#jensen ackles x you #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles x y/n #jared padalecki #jensen ackles #jared padalecki x you #jared padalecki x reader #y/n #supernatural #supernatural x you #supernatural x reader #sickfic #spn #spn cast

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lilikags · 4 years

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ೃ‧₊› a b o u t t h i s p o s t° ➮ Pairing: Miya Atsumu x reader ➮ Oneshot ➮ Tags: fluff ➮ Word Count: 2182

A/N: This is for @serowotonin! [for Luna’s Valentines Day collab] Ik I said I was doing Atsumu bc “I was bored” but I always say “imagine being bored” and truly, I haven’t been bored for so long. I forgot that this was for the collab for a fat moment then when you saw the preview I was like, “Wait- no- it’s a surprise.”

Premise: You and Atsumu are cleaning out the apartment, when you find a few letters you thought you would never see again…

“Oi, (y/n), look at what I found,” you heard Atsumu say, leaning over the contents of a drawer he had been sifting through.

“What?” you walked over to see what he had found. The two of you were cleaning out the apartment, as you were going to be moving out soon. Atsumu had a habit of keeping things that connected him to an important memory of his, unless he wanted to forget it- and this was one of them. You didn’t know he kept them- actually, it did make sense of him to, but you had simply forgotten about it and you somehow expected the same for him. You looked down to see what he had in his hands, and your face literally went emotionless as you saw the letter in his hands.

You really didn’t mind the letters, for the most part. Actually, they held dear to you. However, that first one… you were grateful for it, but you also remembered just how bad you wanted to buy a grave space and bury it for eternity back then...

Miya Atsumu.

This was a dare. This is a love letter. For Valentines. Happy valentines day. If you have extra chocolate, send me some.

Sincerest thanks, (y/n).

Atsumu usually threw away the letters he received every Valentines. It wasn’t that he was trying to be rude; it was just that there were too many letters for him to read (and reply to), so he usually just threw them out. Osamu often teased him for this; he boasted that he at least read his letters.

“Oi, ‘Samu, look at this one,” Atsumu called out to his brother.

“What?” Osamu looked at him, with a face of disbelief. “Yer actually lookin’ at them?”

“Nah, not really, but this one’s hilarious,” Atsumu laughed.

“Okay, not funny, keep yer lame humor to yourself.”

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

“(y/n), truth or dare,” (b/f/n) asked.

You smiled, “Dare.”

“Hmmm… alright, send a love letter to Miya Atsumu- it has to be at least one line long.”

“I’m- okay then.”

You brought out a piece of paper, wrote the first things that came to mind, and once you reached one line, you stopped. You folded the paper and grabbed whatever envelope you could find and sealed it with tape. The dare required actually giving the letter, much to your dismay, but it wasn’t like you could back down from a dare. After all, it was (b/f/n), and the nonstop teasing would definitely occur if you failed to complete the dare.

Dearest (y/n),

I did in fact receive your rather interesting letter, and I have decided to bring you some chocolate as you wished. I wish you, as well, a very happy valentine’s day this year.

Most sincerely, Atsumu.

Atsumu was intrigued enough to write a reply; in fact, he decided to write in the most formal way possible. He knew from the letter that you were either a tsundere or someone who was actually dared to do so, and decided that it would be fun entertainment for the both of you.

When you received the letter, you were surprised to see a reply. It was known he didn’t send out replies, yet you had received one. As you read it, you felt a need to reply; you’d simply feel bad if you didn’t. However, what was there to talk about? How the chocolates were good? He had stuck it on your first period desk, out in the open. And you also sincerely wondered what was with the overly formal tone. You do remember writing the most shitty letter you’ve ever written to him, and that volleyball-obsessed dude just writes something formal to you? Baffles the mind.

Well, then, if he was going to reply, you would too.

Miya Atsumu,

Thanks for the chocolate- your fans make pretty good chocolate, I have to say. Bet I could make better chocolate than ya, ‘cause all ya focus on is just volleyball. Anyways, what was with the overly formal tone- ya like me or somethin’? Would be funny if ya did and I turned ya down. XD

(y/n)

You never really thought of Miya Atsumu, but this really sparked your interest. It was amusing, his reactions. It was definitely something you didn’t expect- you actually didn’t expect a reply at all. The reply you received was definitely out of the ordinary as well, one you never thought a hotshot volleyball player would write. It seemed he was interested in you in some ways- and you as well.

(y/n),

Pfffft, you think I might like ya? I just thought yer letter was interestin’, that’s all. Ya really think I can’t make chocolate? Bet I could make better chocolate than ya, I’ll show you. I make you chocolate myself and we’ll see how it tastes. Just you watch, I’ll make ya say I make the best chocolate ever!

Atsumu.

You saw that in your shoe locker the next morning- and everyone saw it. You were beginning to regret actually replying to him, but there was no backing out now. (b/f/n) really hit the goal here, for her. People were probably talking about it. It’s always some event that involves romance that catches everyone’s eye. And since it was just after valentine’s, everyone would automatically assume it was a love letter. In reality, it was simply a little bit of playful banter.

You wondered if people actually knew who it was. You hoped not; it would gather way too much attention for your liking. You’d have an entire fanclub after you, and it was definitely (b/f/n)’s fault that you got into this entire mess. You had absolutely no idea if anyone saw him slip that into your shoe locker, since it had probably been there for a good hour or so before you and most of the other students got there. In any case, there was nothing you could do about people knowing things they already know, so you headed onto class. It was exam week, and you sighed; it would be a long day.

When you arrived at homeroom, you were not-so-pleasantly surprised with what you found at your desk. You just wanted a quiet day; go to school, take the tests, and get out so you could relax at home. But no, you just had to see this and you knew there was a thing called rumors you had to deal with. Well, you could just be like “whatever” and not care, but you definitely knew who’d be after you, for real. Atsumu’s fanbase was quite scary, and definitely large- a group of people one would regret messing with.

“Ugh- what am I going to do with this chocolate now, he gave me a lot yesterday…”

“(y/n)! Oiiii, you got chocolate?! From who from who-”

“(b/f/n), if you say a word, you are going to be dead to me.”

“...” she looked away, but then turned to you again and whispered in your ear. “So, Miya Atsumu, who has a fanbase, likes you.”

“I’m- no-”

“But what I’m seeing says otherwise?”

“Ugh, you’re coming to my house and you are going to pay for that dare.”

“Oh ho ho, seems like I started something…” “Bet you did.”

Pisshead Atsumu

LMAO bet ya didn’t make the chocolate, yer terrible at lying <///3 seen this chocolate before. And like wtf you put a box of chocolate on my desk with YOUR NAME on it. Ya know that people will do a thing called assuming things, right? Smh, think before you act. Anyways, I’m counting on ya to fix up this mess.

(y/n)

When you finished class, the first thing you did was write the note. You were absolutely paranoid with this mess, and you were going to have Atsumu fix it. Yes, you did technically initiate contact first, but that was (b/f/n)’s fault and this could’ve avoided this if he hadn’t pulled off a whole stunt.

It was already around 6 when he saw the note. A small smirk filled his expression, he was so sure that he would be able to get a good reaction out of (y/n). It was written on scrap paper, the back of a phys. ed worksheet. You wrote it in a rush, very obviously. That wasn’t really what caught his attention though; he was puzzled as to how he would fix this. Tell his fans to fuck off? Osamu would tease him for eternity.

“Oi, what’cha starin’ at?” he heard Osamu nag. “Mom’s waitin’ for us for dinner.”

“Hey, ‘Samu… ya know how to fix this?”

“... ARE YOU AN IDIOT- YOU ARE AN IDIOT.”

“I AM NOT! YOU ARE THE IDIOT HERE!”

“SAYS THE ONE WHO GOT INTO A MESS LIKE THIS!”

“Oi, ya shouldn’t be fightin’ at this hour,” the two heard Kita say, as he gave them a certain look. “... ‘m sorry…” the twins apologized.

Even after a fulfilling dinner made by their mother and a nice, hot shower, Atsumu still couldn’t think of a solution. Osamu almost snitched on him, but he decided that there was enough on their mom’s plate of problems at the moment.

“What if ya said you were dating?” Osamu offered.

“HAH?! ARE YA INSANE?!” Atsumu yelled at him.

“That would explain what happened at valentine’s.”

“But there’s nothin’ between us-”

“Yer fanclub wouldn’t really believe anythin’ else.”

“Yeah…”

(y/n),

Can we meet when practice ends at 6 on Thursday?

M. Atsumu.

“... I’m- Is he just going to apologize then run away? Tch.” you sighed. You had the idea that Miya Atsumu was overconfident and carefree, but not to this extent. The least he could do was fix this- he had power over his fandom and what people said about him, unlike you. You had to go, it wasn’t like you really had much of a choice if you wanted to talk it out and fix it.

“Hey, (y/n) are you and Atsumu dating?” one of your classmates asked, and a bunch of others hovered around the table, waiting to hear a response. (b/f/n) had told you rumors had spread around the entire school; you figured that would’ve happened. Any topic related to the twins spread like wildfire, especially the blonde-haired one.

“... Can you not try to pry into my private life?” you replied, which you instantly realized was exactly a wrong answer to give. This implied that you were in fact dating Atsumu secretly, and you just made your life 10x worse. You figured you should just tell everyone what had happened, then the blame would be on (b/f/n)- it should preferably be placed on Atsumu, since he started it, really.

When you met him at 6pm, you expected no contribution from him. Instead, you were met with a solid plan for something you weren’t really happy about, but it seemed the easiest to convince the public of a story they put out.

“(y/n)... let’s tell them that we’re dating.”

“Hmm… well, they already think that…”

“I’m sorry… I wasn’t thinking…” “It’s fine. All we can do is move forward, I guess.”

“Yeah… ‘Samu gave me this solution; it’s all I have, I’m sorry if it’s-”

“It’s fine. Let’s go through with it. Just protect me from the crazy fangirls; that’s all I want.”

“Ya.”

“And we’ll need to put together a coherent story; what’s yer number?”

“Ahaha, seriously, maybe (b/f/n)’s a prophet. She told me that she was aiming for somethin’ to happen between us,” you commented, remembering what happened years and years ago.

“Ya were just so unnecessarily worried about the fangirls,” Atsumu mentioned.

“Oi! Yer fangirls were hella scary back then…”

That night, you stayed up coming up with a story, which ended with the two of you breaking up so that you could go on your separate ways again. However, the story didn’t last too long, as (b/f/n)’s parent’s investigations went a little too far and spread the truth a little too much. (b/f/n) is one thing, but you had almost forgotten her parents were another, seriously. They’d been a little busy over the last few years, thus the lack of investigations of local drama, but they had been doing so for decades, what could you expect from them?

Nothing was Atsumu’s fault to the fanclub, unless he seriously convinced them that it was. You were guilty until proven innocent. Unbeknownst to you until after, he gave them a whole (to be honest, not-so-great) speech on how he kind of went too far with the joke, but also placed the blame on everyone else for assuming things. People were absolutely ridiculous; their ideas and their insane imagination should learn that the left side of the brain exists too.

“Funny how we met again after college, after all that time.”

“Ya… a real wonder”

Another A/N: OMG THIS IS MY FIRST TIME WRITING FOR ‘TSUMU FORGIVE ME IF I WROTE HIM LIKE, WRONG IN THIS AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

『••✎••』 Extra Info * ˚ ✦ ⇢ If you would like to read some of my other works, find them here! * ˚ ✦ ⇢ Taglist: @serowotonin @luna-la-ley // send me an ask if you would like to be added!

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu oneshots #haikyuu imagines #miya atsumu #atsumu x you #atsumu imagines #atsumu x reader #atsumu x y/n #atsumu fluff #atsumu oneshot #atsumu fic #hq x reader #hq imagines #hq x you #hq love letters

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i-need-air · 4 years

Text

King & Queen. – Bakugou Katsuki x F!Reader.

Summary: Fluff, Baku being extra while confessing, social media shenanigans.

Word count: 1784.

It's 4 AM, I'm a mess but I needed to get this off my chest. I'm testing the waters with my writings, it's been forever since I wrote anything and I wanted to throw myself a little bit into the fandom I've been obsessed with for the past months. I do hope you enjoy it. ♥

Bakugou Katsuki took pride in having such a large following online. Ever since the first year UA Sports Festival, both his Twitter and Instagram accounts got thousands and thousands of followers, mostly crushing over him and others just hating on him, and in both ways he loved the attention.

The Aesthetics™ he had were always on point and his Twitter was just filled with one sentence tweets, re-tweets of famous heroes, a somewhat dry, dark and/or sarcastic meme from time to time, only and only if it fit (again) his aesthetics. Sometimes he'd engage with the Bakusquad, specially Kaminari and Mina, both very active users, and [Y/N], answering to her tweets with a one word roast and little more.

After the second year UA Sports Festival though? His social media reached the 100k mark, skyrocketing into a small celebrity as he won the first place for two years in a row. But what made him reach such a large number was the way he won. Their battle for the first place was insane, such a difference compared to what he had to deal with Todoroki in the past. [Y/N] put an amazing fight, there's no doubt to that, but the woman overused her quirk and he knew her weakness, mostly since he sometimes (rarely, almost never, pft) observed her train with Icy-Hot or Deku. It was a spectacle to watch and it has even been televised for a whole week afterwards, critics applauding how promising UA's students were. And that's how it all started.

The shipping.

Images and even fucking edited music videos of their fight were everywhere. It was so obvious both of them enjoyed the fight, the little grins they shared as they attacked each other, the small comments both threw and the camera and mics everywhere picked, the look Bakugou Katsuki gave [Y/N] when she kicked his ass. Such an adoration, followed by his insane grin, ready for a challenge. The look [Y/N] gave him, as he took the first place medal with pride from Endeavor, thriving at the applauses from the public. Stars were put to shame compared to the sparks in her eyes. Oh, and the moment their orbs made contact exactly after that? The chemistry.

Bakuy/n was one of their names online, apart from variations of their hero names mixed together. The fandom was slowly picking up a name, mostly going with the first mentioned. And Katsuki? He was fucking aware of everything. Her social media was on radio silence, but this event made him think. Actually think, not half-ass an idea and just throw himself head on into it. And the conversation he overheard was just making him plot now.

Mina and [Y/N] were actually discussing this exact topic. The pink girl was thriving for it. Her Twitter account was now filled with subliminal messages about love and it made her poor friend anxious. Basically because this issue hasn't been addressed at all with Bakugou and she planned to keep it that way. Yet Mina, sweet, adorable, loving Mina was just pressing on it really badly, but thankfully she never did when both sides of Bakuy/n were in the same room/conversation.

"Isn't it like so romantic?" Mina's eyes shined, hands clapped, her gaze looking somewhere in the distance, daydreaming.

"No, it's not, it's weird..." her [h/c] haired friend answered, falling more into the couch of their living quarters, trying to hide from the world.

"It would be if it wasn't obvious you pin for each other!"

"Oh, god, please stop saying that."

"You're not denying it though!"

"MINA!"

Laughter coming from the pinkette filled the room as the blond man decided not to interrupt and leave, small grin on his face as [Y/N]'s groans just told him what he needed to hear. She definitely did not deny the attraction and whatever chemistry they had.

Which leads to the current situation.

The girl was sitting in the cafeteria, waiting for Ochaco and Mina to come around, phone in hand as she scrolled mindlessly through Twitter, watching as her most recent tweet, the first one in ages, was getting attention. She giggled at Denki's stupidity, as he just posted a selfie of himself drenched in Diet Coke clearly in the UA bathrooms. Checking his replies she saw the boy she's been [kinda, lowkey, just a lil bit] trying to avoid for the past days.

[@BakugouKatsuki:]

"Dumbass."

[@MissPinky:]

"So THAT'S WHY U NEEDED MINTS!?!!!!!?? 🤣

She giggled again, entertained by her friends when her interactions just exploded. App actually crashed as she blinked while munching on some french fries dumbly.

As she tried to open her app again, both her friends landed by the table, joking about Kaminari and his never ending stupidity. Notifications popped again and again, legit confusing the girl to no end, making her ignore her two friends as they asked her what was going on, mainly because of her expression.

"The hell...?" she muttered, throwing the phone down while Twitter took its sweet, sweet time to load and open and just as she opened her mouth to answer Mina, she made eye contact with some very intense red eyes.

Clasping her mouth shut and ignoring Ochaco as she took [Y/N]'s phone to see what's going on, the girl could only focus on Bakugou, sitting a few tables away, facing her direction. She almost shivered in place under the intensity he was giving away, although his position was laid back, phone in one hand, chin in the other. And, again, gaze on her. He barely even blinked, his neutral expression giving nothing away and she knew she was blushing. Why was she a blushing mess under his gaze? Well, answer was obvious for everyone, even the whole internet now, but oh, she wished Bakugou Katsuki wasn't that sharp. Who are we kidding though?

Ochaco started to shake her out of her daze, interrupting the intense eye contact battle as she shoved her phone in her face.

"Oh. My. God." She muttered, stuttering her following words "Please, look at this, I can't believe it... Mina, check Twitter."

"If Kaminari threw Diet Coke and Mints in one of the bathroom toilets to 'experiment', I'm done with him." Mina responded but froze in place, just as [Y/N] looked away from the explosive boy. "Wait... WAIT!" her eyes almost popped out of her skull. "WHAAAAAAA–?!"

On the screen of her phone was the profile of the guy she's been crushing for... A year now? The guy that at first ignored her, then screamed at her, then beat her ass in training, then got his ass beaten by her, that scoffed at her shitty jokes, that actually chuckled at her shitty jokes, that studied with her, that smiled at her... The guy that complimented her when her quick improved. The guy that took her opinion seriously even when acting like he didn't care. The guy that stole her heart when he showed little glimpses of his complex persona only to her. The guy that fucking retweeted:

[@onlybakuy/nhere:]

"King & Queen."

And a picture attached, them shaking hands after their battle, ready to go get prepared for the podium. Bloodied, sweaty, yet both smiling at each other.

"I can't believe this–[Y/N]–" The brunette started rambling and fangirling besides her, but... With a careful glance, she peeked under her eyelashes to look at the boy again, her heart almost stopping when noticing he was still observing, small grin on his face hidden behind his hand, perfectly angled for her to see. "There's another one!"

Everything started to make sense, as she quickly checked her notifications to see the Internet™ just going crazy over that retweet. People started mass-following her, fans and stans just living for it, tagging her username with a screenshot of the retweet and now it hyped up again with... pictures of his profile? Did he change his description? He... changed his description. While there was absolutely nothing in there, now there was one single word. King.

Her eyebrows just rose so high her forehead hurt, the 3 braincells that were still somehow functioning were catching up to what the hell was going on and now she was positive, 100%, without a doubt that she was blushing like a mad-woman, a smile forming on her lips as she hit the retweet button on the same tweet he did and instantly opening her profile to edit.

Both her friends were freaking out by her side, accusing her of being way too calm in this situation, to explain but [Y/N] knew she couldn't utter any word, or even look up at them or at him. If she did, she'd break the spell, the moment, and as she deleted her description and only wrote a single word in her profile, her smile only widened. Hearing Mina screech after seeing her retweet, the girl giggled like an idiot.

Bakugou Katsuki was loud, brash, maybe a little bit emotionally constipated, rough around the edges, incredibly smart, observing, caring, awful with words but straight to the point with actions. And he was, without a doubt, fucking extra when doing things.

As she pressed the button Save on her profile, she caught him looking at his phone, being patted on the back by Kirishima, that somehow appeared in the frame yet was so distant in her field of vision as only he mattered at the moment. Waiting his reaction patiently and waiting for the internet to start freaking out again, her chest was hurting from the drumming of her heart. Hell, she knew she looked like a disaster with a flushed face, phone gripped so hard in her hand that it could break, a group of girls forming around her, noisy yet so distant. The world going in slow motion, seeing his crimson eyes widen for a fraction of a second, hiding more of his face in the palm of his hand as he still tried to look so casual, Kirishima's "Yeaaaaaaaah!" filled her ears as he tapped his finger on the screen, destination already clear. And when he saw what he needed...

He got up, leaving his tray of food behind, shit-eating grin basically parting the sea of people forming around them both as he marched towards where she was seated, and for the third time they made eye contact. His cheeks flushed, such a boyish expression coveting his normally angry features, mischievous and happy, relieved, just... Perfect.

Everything went in slow motion for her, his march, decisive and bold, as he always was, took to an end as he got to her, just giving her a hand and a raised brow, inviting her to leave with him anywhere but there.

And she took it without hesitation.

#bakugou x reader #Bakugou katsuki x reader #F!reader #bakugou katsuki #Mha #Bnha #Twitter #Social media #my hero academia #Boku no hero academia #Fluff #Bakugou is fucking extra #♥ ♥ ♥#Noire writes

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sassyduckqueen · 4 years

Text

Miraclous: Rise of Anatis 42

Yay! New Chapter and we got a new character. Felix is officially here and there's a little Easter egg at the end. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter :D Also Puppeteer 2 will be the next chapter. I want to get that one out of the way since I'm not a big fan of it but hey, let's see if I can do a better version :D Oh, There is a reason why I switched Juleka out for Nino. Juleka will be akumatized twice in this part of the story. Once as Reflekta and the other is a surprise but I thought she could do with a break before that all happens... Also I know it’s a bit late but happy new year! Hopefully 2021 will be better!

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Chapter Forty-Two: Felix

"Today is one year since Adrien's mother disappeared," Nino stated as everyone was sat around the stage on the Liberty. He was pacing along with Marinette while everyone was watching them. Alya was sat next to Rose and Luka while Juleka was stood behind them next to Max while Kim was sat in front of them. Alya held a tablet which had the rest of the gang plus Lila on call. Alix was with Nathaniel and Marc at the park while Mylene and Ivan were checking in from a protest while Chloe and Lila were checking in from their rooms and Kagami was on call while she was in the car.

"Right! And we can't leave Adrien all alone on a day like this!" Marinette piped in, making everyone nod in agreement.

"True that," Alix agreed, causing Nino and her to stop. "But there's no way his old man is gonna let us see him,"

"Alix is right," Alya stated, making both of them frown before Marinette made a thinking face.

"Aha!" She stated, pointing at them. "Why don't we make him a video and tell him how much we all care about him?"

"Great idea, Marinette," Alya grinned, holding up her tablet. "We can take turn in making messages,"

"Then send it to him," Nino grinned, holding up his hand for a high five. Marinette slapped it as she grinned. "So who wants to go first?"

"Marinette! You should go first," Alya grinned, pointing her camera at her and making the girl squeal in surprise. "Ok! Go!"

"Uh! No, no! Someone else should go first!" She gasped, pressing her fingers together. "I still need to figure out what I'm gonna say!"

"Ok, girl," She said, shaking her head before moving it to Nino, who fixed his cap. "So, Nino, ready?"

"Yup," He grinned, nodding.

"Action!" Alya declared, pushing the record button.

"Hey, my dude!" He stated as she filmed. Once his message was done, she filmed Rose's then Max. Juleka and Luka did a message together and Kim declared that he would be there for his friend. Alya paused it before handing it to Nino so he could film hers. He grinned at her and pressed record as Marinette paced in the background. She had no idea what to say. After all, much couldn't be said on a day like this. Kwami knows how she would feel if her mama disappeared and her father acted cold and unfeeling. She bit her lip as Luka moved over to her, causing her to jump a little at his presence.

"Penny for your thought, Melody?" He asked, making her look at him and smile a little. She sat next to him and let out a little sigh as he strummed on his guitar. Instantly, she recognized the tune as her melody and just like her, it sounds conflicted and unsure. "Trying to decide what to say on the video?"

"That obvious eh?" She asked, smiling a little as Luka changed the melody a little so it was more calmer. She felt her inner song match it's tempo. "I just don't know what to say to him, you know? I can't imagine what it must be like for him..."

"Speak from the heart," He stated, making her look at him. He said it like it was so simple and maybe it was. Maybe... as usual... she was overthinking things. "As long as it's full of love and support, you can't go wrong,"

"That's... actually really good advice," Marinette smiled, gently leaning over and kissing him on the cheek. He smiled shyly as Alya wrapped her video. "Thank you, Luka,"

"Your turn, girl," Alya grinned as Nino held it up to her. Marinette took a deep breathe and faced the camera before feeling freaked out. She could not talk from the heart in front of everyone.

"Uh... would you mind if I recorded it... on my own?" She asked, causing a number of her friends to look at her. However, Luka didn't seem surprise as she looked around. He continued to play the melody and gave her a supportive smile. Nino nodded and handed her the tablet, allowing her to rush off into the bridge area of the boat. She sank down and took a deep breathe as Plagg flew out.

"Ooh, we making a video for Blondie?" He asked, making her look up at him.

"It's the anniversary of his mother's disappearance," She sighed, making the little cat god frown. "And I have no idea what to say to him,"

"Why don't you follow the blueberry's advice?" He stated, making her look up at him as he threw up a chuck of cheese and swallowed it whole. "What was it he said?"

He flew in front of her and placed his paw on his heart before holding the other out with his eyes closed.

"Speak from thou heart, sweetest maiden!" He mocked, making her giggle a little bit.

"Luka did not say it like that, you little monster," She grinned, making him grin back as she reached out and stroked his ears. "But he is right... I should speak from the heart,"

She held up the camera and took a deep breathe before pressing record. She looked into the camera with a soft look.

"Adrien," She stated calmly as she listened to her heart. "I love you. I'll always be there if you need me,"

She managed to press the record button, finishing her recording before she realized what she said. Her mind began to race, thinking off all the worst case scenarios. What if he hated her after this? What if Kagami decided to cut her into tiny pieces and turn her into Marinette skewers? What if Luka somehow found out and gave up her, thinking she was in love with Adrien? She was slightly alarmed at that last thought as it had seemingly came out of no one where and she was in love with Adrien... right? She just said it after all. Her wording was 'Adrien, I love you' but did she really mean it? Her eyes widen as realization hit her like a tidal wave. Sure, she liked Adrien but did she love him? She did but not in the way she thought she had. When she thought over their interactions and their relationship, it began very clear to her exactly what her feelings for Adrien were and they weren't what she thought they were. Sure, she loved the sunshine child but not in a romantic way. When she thought about it, she only 'fell' for him because he showed her kindness. Something she wasn't use to at the time but as she thought about her friendship with him, she realized she hadn't really loved him. Not really. She loved her idea of him but it wasn't really him or real in general. She had put him on a pedestal. She had been obsessive and competitive. She thought she had to like him but she was starting to realize that while she clearly cared for him, it wasn't in a romantic way. Not like how she thought about Luka. She never felt the need to act weird around Luka or to follow some crazy plan. It was just calm and natural with him. She didn't need to impress him or be jealous of girls in his life. Hell, she wasn't even jealous of Rossi when she tried to hit him. Sure, she had shouted at her but that was because of the way he was reacting to her. Luka had been uncomfortable and she would not stand for that... but she had been board-line stalkerish with Adrien, even when Luka came into her life. She had only recently started to back off, after the whole Desperada thing but certainly didn't justify her actions. She covered her mouth as she realized her own actions and where her heart truly lied, causing Plagg to look at her with concern.

"Dollface, are you ok?" He asked, forcing her out of her thoughts as she nodded. She wanted to tell him but she heard Alya yelling for her before she could. She got up and opened her purse for Plagg, who flew in and walked back onto the deck, a little wobbly and pale from her revelation. Alya walked over to her with concern on her face.

"What's going on, girl?" She asked, frowning. "Are you feeling sick or something?"

"I came to a realization..." She muttered before holding out the table. "Anyway, I've done my video so you can send it,"

"Awesome, girl," Alya grinned, taking the tablet. "I hope it was a good realization,"

She winked before walking back to the others, declaring that they had all of the video. Marinette let a little sigh, shaking her head. It wasn't a good realization but she was grateful she had came to it. She needed to be a better friend to Adrien, because she now knew that's all they were. It was time to move on. She took a deep breathe and when to join the others, who were happily chatting but she noticed Luka had disappeared. She frowned a little and moved over to Juleka, who was hugging Rose.

"Where did Luka go?" She asked, making the two girls look at her.

"Oh, he went to his room to play guitar," Juleka mumbled, making Marinette nod. "Social gatherings like this aren't really his thing. We're lucky to have gotten half an hour out of him,"

"Oooh but I'm sure he would like some company!!" Rose gushed, making Juleka smile a little. "You should go and see him,"

"You think?" She asked, causing the two to nod. She bit her lip but nodded and headed into the liberty. Hearing the sounds of a guitar, she followed it towards Luka's bedroom. The door was ajar a little so she carefully knocked. "Luka, it's me. Am I ok to come in?"

The music stopped, causing her to frown.

"Sure," He replied, causing her to push the door open as he began to play again before he stopped again. "Huh... your heart... it's changed..."

"It has?" She asked, sitting down on the bed as he began to play again. It was her normal tune but it seemed crisper and clear. The chords seemed to line up in almost perfect sync and it rang with realization and clarity. She closed her eyes and placed her hand on her heart as she listened. The music sang softly of love and understanding as well as hope and a small longing. It only strengthened her resolve. Gradually, the melody came to a stop and she opened her eyes. "Wow... you're amazing..."

"I only play what I hear," He muttered with a shy, modest look on his face before he glanced at her. "But this is the clearest I've heard it. It's almost like you've come to understand something that was confusing you..."

"I have," She admitted, looking at her hands. "The video I made for Adrien... I took your advice and spoke from the heart... I told him that I love him... and I thought what if he returns my feelings? Or what if he hates me? Or just likes me but not in that way?"

"Well, I'll be happy for you and Adrien if it works out," He smiled, moving so he was sat next to her as he played. "And if it doesn't, I'll be here for you,"

"Thank you, Luka," She smiled as he played his guitar. "But that's kind of the thing. You know what my mind is like. It races and it kept racing. I'm mean he might be dating someone else and we don't know and I thought what if they discover I said I love him?.... but then I started to think if I really meant it and that's when I had a revelation... "

She jumped up and looked at him.

"Luka... I don't think I'm not in love with Adrien..." He looked at her with surprise because that was the last thing he expected to hear but she wasn't done yet. "I mean... I like him... I definitely like him but can it really be considered love?"

She began to pace as she spoke.

"And do I really like him in a romantic way? I'm not so sure anymore... my behavior regarding him hasn't exactly been good, you know... and when I think about it, I don't even really know him... like I can't talk to him like I can talk to you... I get my words confused and can't think properly around him. I have his schedule and stole his phone for crying out loud!"

"Hey... it's ok..." Luka gently placed his hands on her shoulders as her melody changed into the hectic mess he was familiar with. She looked on the verge of a melt down. "Take deep breathes,"

She nodded and did as told before slowly calming down. Luka gently made her sit down as he knelt down in front of her.

"Marinette, I'm gonna be very honest with you ok?" He stated, getting a nod of her. "Stealing his phone and having his schedule is extremely and stalkerish-"

"I know..."

"But the fact that you are able to realize where you've gone wrong is good," He smiled, making her look at him. "It means you can fix your mistakes and that is a good thing and love is a complicated thing but it's not just for couples, you know. Love is something anyone can feel. You can love your family and your friends, love a hobby or a place and love a pet or a person but we sometimes mix the different types of love for something else,"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, platonic love can be mistaken for romantic love and vice versa," He explained, getting a confused look of her. "Well...like you and Alya for example... do you love her?"

"Well, yes but she's my friend..."

"Exactly. That is platonic love," He explained before he moved and sat on the bed. "There are so many different types of love, Marinette. It's not just exclusive to romantic feelings,"

"So I could love Adrien but as a friend?" She asked, feeling like that made sense but Luka shrugged. "Hey, come on! You know feelings better then anyone I've ever met,"

"True but maybe this is something for you to learn for yourself," He stated, making her pout. "Hey, now don't give me that look. I only read and feel emotions... unfortunately, I don't have all of the answers... if I did, I'd give them to you..."

"Well, you have helped," She grinned, making him smile. "So I suppose I can forgive you for not having all the answers... seriously though... thank you,"

"No worries, Marinette," He smiled, making her smile back before frowning.

"You don't think I'm creepy do you?"

"Nope," He replied, strumming the guitar. "Rossi is creepy, not you,"

"I'm glad," She smiled as their phones pinged. Luka opened his and showed her. Adrien had sent a video reply to the group chat. Marinette moved a little closer to Luka as he pressed play before they watched Adrien's reply. At first, it seemed normal but then he began to act cold and mean. Marinette frowned deeply as they watched, matching Luka's frown. This didn't make sense to either of them. For one, Adrien came across as a gentle kind soul and two, he didn't know the full extend of Luka's empathy so he couldn't block it out plus he wasn't that much of a good actor. Even as Apsik, he was still a sunshine child. Just a little bit more wild but still kind and gentle. Marinette looked at Luka and met his puzzled expression. "That's not Adrien..."

"I agree," He replied, frowning. "But this is on the group chat-"

"Oh no! The others!" She gasped, jumping up and rushing out. Tikki flew over to him as he jumped up and followed. Marinette ran up the stairs and onto the deck to the others, just as Kim pointed out that they didn't really know him. Alya frowned and added that he was friends with Chloe before they knew him and while she had changed, it was only after the heroes had appeared, not before, meaning that when Adrien had become friends with her, she was mean. "Don't believe this video! There's no way that's Adrien!"

However, Marinette was too late. An akuma entered Alya's tablet, causing purple masks to appear on Rose, Nino and Alya who were all holding the tablet. Marinette gasped as Luka caught up with her.

"Oh no..." He gasped as they listened to Hawkmoth before transforming into Bubbler, Lady Wifi and Princess Fragrance. Luka grabbed Marinette and pulled her inside the Liberty before running to the back of the boat. He pushed her into his room as she took a breathe. "Hide in here,"

"But... they're gonna take it out on Adrien!" She gasped, worried as Luka frowned.

"I'll contact Anatis but stay here," He ordered before closing the door as Marinette tried to argue but she didn't put much of an argument as she could use this as a chance to transform and that's exactly what she did. With her transformation complete, she climbed out of the window and onto the roof of the Liberty as Lady Wifi paused Juleka, who was trying to defend Adrien.

"You're not punishing anyone, Wifi!" She declared, taking her fighting stance as the trio looked at her. "Time to log you out!"

"Not now that I've got satellite connection," Lady Wifi grinned, throwing a pause at her. Lady Noir jumped off the roof as she dodged before Princess Fragrance fired at her, causing a pink smoke cloud to surround everyone. However, she covered her mouth and nose before she could breathe it in. The same could not be said for Kim and Max, who fell under Fragrance's spell. She ordered them to attack her, causing Max to charge at her. She tripped him up but Kim grabbed her, causing her to struggle with him. However, a yoyo hit him between the eyes, causing him to let her go. She kicked him and restrained him as Anatis jumped down and grabbed Max who was about to charge at her. However, the trio used the chance to escape, causing Lady Noir to let out a sigh as Anatis tied up Max and Kim.

"Nice timing, bugboy but our trio of punishers are after-"

"Adrien Agreste I know," He nodded, making her nod. "I say we should get there first,"

"Good plan, bug-a-boo," She grinned before the two of them took to the rooftops and made their way to Agreste Manor. The two of them ran as fast as they could, jumping across different roofs as citizens cheered at them. Anatis swung forward and landed on a roof, opposite the manor but held up his hand as Lady Noir landed next to him. He took out his yoyo and zoomed into Adrien's open window to get an idea of what was going on. However, the scene that greeted them was a confusing one to say the least. Bubbler, Lady Wifi and Princess Fragrance were fighting Natalie while two Adriens sat by and watched with confusion and fear. "Uh... am I seeing double?"

"No... two Adriens...." He muttered, clicking his fingers. "One of them must be an impostor,"

"Of course... that means the impostor made that video," She gasped, letting a sigh of relief. "It wasn't the real Adrien,"

"The trio must have realized that right now but they don't know which one is the real Adrien..." He muttered, making her frown.

"Neither do we," She muttered as he nodded. "Plan?"

"Grab an Adrien each and get them out of there," He replied, getting a nod of her. The two of them dived into the open window, getting the villains attention. Almost instantly, they attacked Anatis, causing him to fight them as Lady Noir jumped over to the boys. She blinked as Anatis threw Lady Wifi into a wall and blocked Princess Fragrance and Bubbler's attacks.

"Rose-" He stated, trying to get through to her but she kicked him sending him flying into the wall. Lady Noir gasped as he got back up and fought them with Nathalie's help. "Lady Noir! Get them out of here!"

"Yes, boss!" She grinned, grabbing both of the boys and jumping to the window. However, Bubbler managed to grab the ankle of one of them and pull him back in as she jumped. She landed on the roof and looked back as Anatis grabbed and threw him into the wall. Lady Wifi dived at him but he tripped her up and threw her off him. Lady Noir bit her lip and jumped away, planning to return for the other one once she got this one to safety. She carried him to the Grand Paris hotel and landed onto the roof, placing him down. "You'll be safe here but I have to get the other one,"

"Lady Noir! Wait!" He gasped, grabbing her hand as she went to jump away. She looked at him in surprise as he looked at her like she was the love of his life. "I've... I've always been in love with you, you know"

"Uh... that's nice..." She mumbled, pulling her hand away. "But I can't return your feelings, Adrien... I'm guessing you're Adrien..."

"Ah... if only you'd let me..." He replied, walking towards her. However, she felt extremely uncomfortable and backed away as he moved forward, trapping her between him and the wall. He placed his hand on the wall as he smirked at her in a dark manner. "How about I give you some courage before you go,"

"Uh... wait... what? No!" She gasped as his eyes moved to her lips. He leaned in to kiss her but she ducked under his arm and moved away from him, hissing at him angrily as she held up her fists. "Ok! Which part about the word No did you not understand?!"

She punched him, sending him fall onto the ground as he gripped his mouth. She glared down at him as he moved his hand, showing his lip had been busted. He looked up at her with a bit of fear, which made her feel a little better.

"Gross! You're not Adrien!" She declared, glaring at him still. "He would never be so pushy,"

The sound of a yoyo caught her attention before Anatis jumped up and landed on the roof, next to her. He glanced over at the boy on the floor before turning to Lady Noir, who was still fuming.

"Are you ok?" He asked, concerned.

"That creep decided to try and kiss me, despite me saying no!" She growled, making Anatis click his fists but she placed her hand on his. "Don't worry, Annie. I already punched him..."

"S-She started-" He didn't get to finish that sentence as Anatis slugged him as well before grabbing him by the shirt and pulling him up to his feet.

"I hope you've learnt the importance of consent, Felix," He spoke in a calm voice but it held the feeling of the calm before a storm. Both Lady Noir and Felix could felt his rage, despite the fact that he was really holding back. He smiled at Felix as he set him down and smoothed out his shirt. "Because if you haven't, I will have to teach you it and well... my methods aren't exactly soft. Understood?"

"Y-Yes..." Felix replied, shaking as Lady Noir walked over.

"Felix huh?" She asked, glaring at him. "Why do he look exactly like Adrien?"

"They're related," Anatis replied. "Cousins... Adrien told me everything... seems like you've made a lot of enemies in one day, Felix,"

"Hmph! Probably doesn't have a lot of friends with the way he acts," Lady Noir declared, crossing her arms and holding her head to the side. Felix looked down and sad as she clocked the trio, frowning. "They're coming, Annie,"

"Better prepare then," He declared, throwing up his yoyo. "Lucky charm!"

He caught the can of whipped cream as Bubbler landed on the swimming pool cover.

"You really think covering us with whipped cream will save you from been punished, Anatis?" He asked, pointing his wand at him as Princess Fragrance landed next to him and pointed her gun at Lady Noir.

"Want to smell like fish for the rest of your life, kitty?" She asked as Anatis attempted to look around but his vision wasn't lighting up anything. He had no solution.

"Do anything and I'll pause you for good," Lady Wifi declared as she landed behind them. Lady Noir looked ready to fight as she glared at them.

"You spend way too much time on your phone!" She declared as Anatis tried to look around again. "Annie... got a plan?"

"Uh... no..." He replied, making her frown. "Nothing's lighting up..."

"What do you mean nothing is lighting up?!" Lady Noir gasped, as Anatis held up the can to Reflekta. "Is your power not working?!"

"I don't think so..." He replied, making her frown. "I think something is missing..."

"Like what?!" She gasped, getting a shrug of him. However, Felix suddenly jumped up and kicked Lady Wifi's tablet out of her hand and jumped away with it. Lady Noir turned to him as he held it. "Felix, break it and this nightmare will be over!"

"What makes you think I want it to be over?" He asked, smirking darkly at him. Anatis held back a growl as he started to shout. "Hawkmoth! Can you hear me, Hawkmoth? You want Anatis' and Lady Noir's miraculous, don't you?"

"It's official," Lady Noir snarled. "I am going to kill him,"

"Murder is illegal, Kitten," Anatis stated, making her frown. "However, if he gets caught in the crossfire... that's not our fault,"

"And what do you want?" Lady Wifi suddenly stated, making everyone look at her. She had the purple mask over her face.

"I'm after a piece of jewelry too," Felix declared, smirking. Normally, he wouldn't deal with such a man but he would do anything to get his mother's rings back. Anything. "How about we make a little exchange?"

"Get hold of the miraculous first," Bubbler declared.

"We'll discuss the rest later," Princess Fragrance continued, making Felix smile.

"You've got yourself a deal," He stated, glaring at the two heroes. "Now I think it's high time that Anatis and Lady Noir were punished,"

He turned to hand the tablet back to Lady Wifi, causing Anatis's luck vision to kick in. Princess Fragrance and Bubbler lit up, followed by Lady Wifi and Felix then the can of cream. Smirking to himself as Lady Wifi jumped towards them, he threw the can of cream under her feet, causing her to trip. He stepped out of her way, causing her to knock into Bubbler, who accidentally trapped Princess Fragrance in one of his bubbles. Felix looked shocked as he saw the whole thing come apart and when to run but Lady Noir threw her baton into him, causing him to trip back and fall over the edge of the hotel. He screamed as he fell to the ground but before he could hit it, Anatis threw his yoyo and wrapped it around him, allowing the tablet to fall and break in half, freeing the akuma. The trio turned back into their normal selves and looked around, confused as Lady Noir moved over to the edge and picked her up her baton. She leaned over and smirked at him.

"How's it hanging, Felix?" She teased as he swung. Anatis began to pull him up but decided to mess with him a little by pretending to drop the yoyo, causing Felix to scream. However, he pulled up over the edge and captured the akuma before releasing it. Lady Noir pressed her baton next to Felix as it looked like he was about to escape and the heroes weren't done with him yet. She knew Anatis would want words with him. Anatis grabbed the can of cream and threw it into the air, releasing the cure before turning to the three victims.

"We'll bring you back to your friends' boat but first..." He turned to Felix and clicked his fingers. "I need to have a chat with Felix here,"

"Felix?" Alya asked as Rose and Juleka frowned. "So it wasn't Adrien?"

"No, it wasn't," Anatis replied before walking over and crossing his arms as he glared down at Felix. "Where do I even begin?"

"I wan-"

"Shut up," Anatis snarled, making Felix go quiet. "I have met so real messed up people since I began came a superhero but you... oh, you are a whole different level of crazy! I mean first, you impersonate your own cousin to make him look back in a city known for a terrorist who preys on bad emotions, which resulted in getting his friends akumatized and putting your cousin in danger then you try to force a kiss on my partner, despite the fact that she said no. News flash, Felix! That is sexual harassment! And as if that wasn't bad enough, you then try to work with Hawkmoth and attempted to capture me and Lady Noir! And what for?! A piece of fucking jewelry! I mean that must be some damn special jewelry, Felix! Like a miraculous or something! Is that what is?!"

".... No...." He mumbled, looking to the side. He did not expect the superhero to call him out of his actions. "It's a family heirloom..."

"A family heirloom?!" Anatis practically shouted before pinching his nose. He glared at Felix, who felt small in the hero's gaze. "Let me tell you something! No piece of jewelry is important enough to try and work with a fucking terrorist, Felix!"

"I-"

"No, I am not done!" Anatis growled, making the boy shut up. "Do you understand what could have happened today? If you had succeed and taken away our miraculous! Hawkmoth would have won and Paris would have burnt, your family with it! And there would be only one person to blame other then Hawkmoth! And that person would be you, Felix!"

"I wasn't really going to give him your miraculous!" Felix gasped, looking at the hero. "Look, I'm sorry but-"

"Are you?" Anatis questioned as the girls watched him. Felix frowned and blinked before looking down. "Felix, I get that those are important items but that does not mean you can mess with other people's feelings. You made your cousin look like a horrible person on the anniversary of his mother's disappearance and you made his friends hate and target him. Your actions caught their akumatization. They could have really hurt Adrien or you... is that what you wanted?"

"What?! No!" Felix gasped, offended as he looked up at the hero. "Look, I really am sorry,"

"It's not me you should be apologizing to, Felix," Anatis stated, still glaring down at him before he pointed to Nino, Alya and Rose. "It's them and your family. Your behavior is selfish and horrible,"

"I... I lost my father-"

"That's no excuse, Felix," Anatis growled, making him look at him. "Adrien lost his mother and he doesn't behave like you,"

Finally, Felix had nothing to say. He looked down as he felt the hero's glare before Anatis sighed.

"I should hand you over to the police for aiding a terrorist..." He stated, making the boy look up at him with fear.

"No, please don't!!" He gasped, getting to his knees. "I'll do anything but please don't give me to the police! I'm sorry!! I didn't plan to work with Hawkmoth!! I just saw a chance and took it!! Please, forgive me!!"

"Anatis, are you really gonna give over to the police?" Alya asked, making the hero frown. "I mean no one is hurt..."

"Lady Noir, would you mind bringing them home?" He asked, holding back a comment to Alya. It took all his will power to not roll his eyes at Alya. He really would have to have a talk with her at some point. Lady Noir nodded and led the three of them away. With the four girls gone, Anatis turned back to Felix, who was still on his knees. "Felix?"

He looked up at him with regretful eyes.

"I will give you one chance and I expect you to use it to change for the good," He stated, glaring down at the young man. "I will be keeping tabs on you and if you decide to throw away this chance, I will punish you and hand you to the police, is that understood?"

"Y-Yes, I won't let you down!" Felix gasped, wiping the tears away from his face before standing up and held out his hand. Anatis looked at it with distrust before carefully shaking it. To his relief, Felix didn't try anything. He just shook it as Anatis' earrings beeped. "I'll try my best,"

"Good," Anatis nodded before sighing. "I have to go. Will you get home ok?"

"Oh, I'll be fine," Felix smiled. "I'll get The Gorilla to pick me up,"

"Alright but I mean what I said, Felix," He stated before throwing his yoyo and disappearing into the city. Felix nodded and took out his phone, dialing The Gorilla's number.

~A Few Days Later~

Felix sighed and stretched as he woke up to his alarm. He got up and headed into the bathroom, splashing his face with water before drying it. He headed back into his room and began to getting ready for the day, thinking as he did. He had honestly expected Anatis to go back on his word but the hero proved to be telling the truth. No police came for Felix and after apologizing to Adrien, he forgave him. Uncle Gabriel, on the hand, was as distance as ever, even after Felix decided to stay in Paris. He had seen how lonely Adrien was and decided to stay to keep him company. It was a small step towards been a better person but it was a start. However, there was no way he was going to stay with Uncle Gabriel. He knew that man hated him and the feeling was mutual. Luckily, there were other people he could stay with. He checked himself in the mirror, nodding before walking down into the kitchen where his aunt and uncle from his father's side were. His father's brother looked up from his news paper with cold eyes and a black coffee in his hand. The resemblance between the two was almost unreal. Felix may look exactly like his cousin but he also looked like his uncle. The only real difference been their age and their eye color. Felix inherited the Graham de Vanily green eyes where his uncle had cold blue eyes. Both, however, favored smart clothes and black coffee. They even shared the same first name. Felix. However, the younger Felix had his mother's surname where as the Older Felix had his father's surname. Culpa.

"Good morning, Uncle Felix," He smiled as he sat down as a woman came in. She was dressed in a white shirt and blue shorts. Her long hair was tied back into pigtails and she had sparkling blue eyes. She was Felix's wife... though he wondered how Felix managed to get a woman like her. She was too kind for his moody uncle. "Good Morning, Aunt Bridgette,"

"Hey, Felix!" She grinned, making a coffee. "Are you ready for your first day at school?"

"Yes," He smiled, nodding. "I'm looking forward to joining Dupont High,"

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

Next Chapter: https://ultra-sassyduck.tumblr.com/post/639716531389054976/miraculous-rise-of-anatis-43

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flyingstar360 · 4 years

Text

Bittersweet Memories

So, Happy Thanksgiving and I’m really sorry for Alex angst/ooc. There’s a little bit more adult-ish content in it, and by that, I mean we have boys kissing, mentions of teenage drinking, a few colorful words I may have forgotten to edit out, and mentions of some pretty serious homophobia topics. Also, I’m straight, so I’ve never had to come out or anything, and this is my first time writing openly gay characters. Hopefully, I did okay, and I don’t offend anyone! Any way, it’s a long one, so sorry!

Bittersweet Memories

Alex twisted his drumsticks between his fingers. Julie and her family weren’t home. She told the boys she was going to go volunteer with her dad and brother, but honestly? Alex’s anxiety post Orpheum had been at an all time high. Between secret meetings with Willie, trying to avoid Caleb and save Willie’s soul, band practice and their growing fan base, and the fact that the holidays were coming up? Alex felt like one of the strings of Luke’s guitar, right before it snapped.

He knew Thanksgiving had always been Reggie’s favorite holiday. It was the one day his parents didn’t scream all day, because there was just enough distraction and alcohol to keep them from going after each other. He and his brother would play flag football and watch the parade with their cousins. The delight was practically oozing off him as he and Luke were curled in front of Julie’s laptop, rambling on about the musical acts performing. Ironically, it was a show about hell, or something?

“Dude if musicals had been like this? Yo, I would never have given you a hard time about them.” Luke said to Alex, looking up from his spot on the ground.

Luke’s relationship with Thanksgiving was a little more complicated than Reggie’s. It wasn’t his favorite, but he didn’t hate it. Plus, now that they were dead, Luke had never been closer to his family. Even though they had no idea Julie was actually helping him leave little clues around for them to know he was there with them.

“Are you gonna go see your parents today?” He asked Luke.

“Already done. Julie helped me leave a little message for my mom.” Luke grinned.

Alex rolled his eyes. “Please tell me it has nothing to do with cranberry jelly.”

Emily Patterson made the best homemade cranberry sauce Alex had ever eaten. The Thanksgiving he’d spent at the Patterson’s was one of the best meals Alex had ever eaten. But Luke, for some reason, didn’t like the cranberry sauce his mom made. It was one of those fancy ones, with real cranberries and orange in it. To Alex, it smelled and tasted exactly like he always dreamed the holidays would. Sweet, with a hint of spices. But no.Luke wanted processed cranberry jelly. Alex remembered seeing the two of them arguing about it the last Thanksgiving they’d been alive. Luke had run away a few weeks later, and they’d died in July.

“Julie got me a can of cranberry jelly to leave on the counter. Mom’ll know.”

Alex hated canned cranberry jelly. All he could think about was the way it had clung to his button down shirt the last Thanksgiving he spent with his parents. He remembered the sounds of the plates crashing, the way the glass pie plate had shattered as it hit the wall and smashed next to his face, and the way his father’s voice spit out the words as he- No, Alex didn’t want to think about it.

Alex hated Thanksgiving, actually.

It was two Thanksgivings ago- or two Thanksgivings before he died, instead. His dad’s coworker had come over with his family. Alex didn’t mind. Mr. Marsters’s son was a little older than him. And he was cool. Seth Marsters was a baseball player at the fancy private school in town. He was class president. He was handsome. He liked good music. And he was honestly really nice. Alex never minded spending time with him, and their parents were good enough friends that it happened pretty frequently. The two had ended up in Alex’s room while their dads talked work and their moms finished the dinner and drank wine. Sometimes they’d play Super Mario Kart on Alex’s Nintendo and the TV he had in his room. Other times, the boys just sat around and talked and listened to music.

“Okay.” Seth had said as he opened the tape deck Alex had in his room. “Don’t laugh, but I made you mix tape with some of the other songs I thought you’d like. I would have burnt you a CD, but Dad wouldn’t let me use the computer, because he was too busy with work.”

Alex grinned and flopped himself across his blue bedspread as he watched Seth fiddle with the tape deck. Alex didn’t have a lot of friends. His anxiety made it hard to make friends at school. So, the guys in band were his best friends- and so far, the only people who knew he was gay. Luke had actually been the first guy Alex ever kissed- after they’d snuck a bottle of something that had made Alex’s eyes water and throat burn out of Mr. Patterson’s liquor cabinet. Reggie would turn up at the backdoor in the middle of the night sometimes, with cuts or bruises Alex never questioned but would clean up nonetheless. And Bobby would show up at lunch with extra food packed for the guys, and his mom always made sure Alex had something without nuts in it. It was that kind of stuff that made Alex feel normal. And not like a freak. Even though he knew he was different from everyone else. But besides the guys, he didn’t feel comfortable with almost anyone else. Except Seth.

“Okay, but I can’t promise not to laugh until I hear what songs you picked.”

Seth grinned back and hit play as he plopped himself next to Alex, resting on his elbows, face to face with Alex. It took everything Alex had not to blush as Seth went on and on about why Nirvana was a better band than Poison. Nodding dumbly, he didn’t even register what was playing- until he heard a familiar voice whose CD was hidden behind his copy of The Hobbit on his bookshelf.

“I’m sorry, is this Whitney Houston?” Alex sat straight up. Seth was the one blushing now, as he fumbled to skip the song.

“Yeah, it’s dumb, I just-“

Alex reached out to stop him. “Dude, I love Whitney Houston. She’s got a killer voice.”

Seth turned a shade redder than before. Alex had never seen him flustered at all before. Seth was normally the one all put together, and Alex was the anxious mess. It was honestly pretty endearing, and Alex felt the butterflies in his stomach. “I heard this on the radio and I kind of thought of you instantly.” Seth said quietly. “It just.. well. It makes me think of you every time I hear it, I guess.”

Alex just kind of blinked for a moment, processing what that could mean, as Seth watched him carefully. But Before Alex could really say anything, Seth leaned in and pressed his lips against Alex’s.

Oh.

OH.

Alex closed his eyes as Seth wrapped his hand around the back of Alex’s head and pulled him in closer. His lips were soft and Alex thought he could taste a hint of Chapstick, and root beer. It was a million times better than the clunky teeth and lips kiss he and Luke had shared. This was like a movie kiss, in Alex’s opinion. The butterflies in his stomach, the way his heart was pounding- suddenly he felt like he really got why the guys in the band were so obsessed with girls Being able to have moments like this, feel like this, without anyone judging you? Without anyone thinking you’re spreading a deadly disease? It felt almost as good as playing music.

“And I will always love you-“ Whitney’s long hold of the note drowned out the sound of Alex’s mother’s heels clicking down the hall, but not the screech she let out after pushing his door open and seeing the two boys’ moment.

Alex wouldn’t forget that sound. Or the sound of the front door slamming as his Dad sent Seth and his parents away without even eating.

“Dad, it’s not his fault.” Alex said as his father stormed back into the dining room where Alex stood next to his mother. As his dad started to yell again, Alex cut him off. “Dad! It’s not his fault. I-I kissed him back.”

His father froze, eyes wide, face purple. Veins were bulging on his neck. Alex hadn’t meant to say that.

“I’m gay, Dad.”

He sure as hell hadn’t planned on saying that. He took a deep breath and continued. “Look, I know it’s upsetting, but I’ve known for a while and I didn’t know how to tell you guys. I didn’t want to disappoint you, and-“

That was when the glass pie plate with his mom’s famous cherry pie hit the wall next to his face. Alex ducked to avoid the plate of cranberry jelly that followed it. His father only stopped hurtling dishes at Alex because his mom stepped in between them and told him to leave the house. He ran out, shirt covered in cranberry goop splatter and cherry pie filling. He must have looked like he’d murdered someone when he’d shown up at Bobby’s house. Bobby’s mom brought him clean clothes and let him spend the night. After that Thanksgiving, Alex noticed Luke’s parents looking at him strangely after church. Reggie’s parents didn’t let him come over anymore, not that he did much anyway. And Seth got accepted to a “boarding school” that Alex had heard whispers about. He never saw him again.

“Alex?” Julie stopped just inside her bedroom, by the door. Alex jumped up from where he was sitting by the window. Somehow, during his trip down memory lane, he’d wandered into her room, absent mindedly tapping on the bongo she had by her window.

“Ah- Sorry. Boundaries. I know.” He mumbled, putting the bongo back on her windowsill.

Julie shook her head and sat on the edge of her bed, opposite the chair Alex had found himself in.

“It’s okay. Carlos told me he heard drumming coming from in here and went to distract dad. When I didn’t see you in the studio, I just figured you went to spend Thanksgiving with Willie or checking in on your family or something.” She looked at him intensely and he shifted uncomfortably. “Are you okay?” She asked quietly and reached her hand out to rest on top of his. It slipped right through him, and he pulled away, embarrassed. Here she was, trying to be a good friend, and he was lying to her and being an anxious wreck again. He started to protest, tell her he was fine, when someone knocked on her door. Ray stuck his head in.

“Hey, niña.” He smiled at Julie. “Pizza should be ready in about ten minutes.” Julie nodded. “You did some good work today. Thanks for coming to help out.” She smiled back at her dad.

“You know it’s always been my favorite part of Thanksgiving.” She told him. Alex noticed Reggie and Luke peeking out from behind Ray. “I’ll be down in a minute.” The guys slipped through the door as Ray closed it, both standing awkwardly.

“We’re sorry, dude.” Luke started. “We kinda both forgot that Thanksgiving isn’t a great day for you.”

“I got really excited because it’s always been a good day for me. I didn’t mean to brush off your feelings.” Reggie shifted his weight from side to side. “I just really love the parade and I heard there were puppies after it now and puppies are way better than football and-“

Julie cut Reggie off. “You don’t like Thanksgiving?”

“You work on Thanksgiving?” Alex countered. He knew he was being a little short, but there was no way he could handle Julie looking at him the way other people did when they found out he was gay.

“We volunteer at Marsters House every year. We serve dinner and hang out.” She said. “And you’re avoiding the question.” Alex stiffened in his seat when Julie mentioned the word “Marsters”. Luke and Reggie went pale. Julie noticed all of it. “Please don’t tell me the Marsters’s stole music or something from you guys too.” She groaned. “It’s bad enough knowing Carrie’s dad isn’t who I thought he was, if Seth and Cory are liars too, I couldn’t handle it.”

Alex was pretty sure he was going to throw up. Could ghosts even throw up? He tried to take a few deep breaths. “Julie.” He whispered. “I need you to tell me where this place is.”

She jumped up. “No. No way. Last time you guys were upset and I told you where something was, you got sucked in by Caleb and I almost lost you to those stamps. No way!”

“We’re going and you can’t stop us!” Alex raised his voice at Julie. “Wait, what are you doing?”

Julie was grabbing her sweater. “I’m not letting you go alone. I’ll take you there. But you guys aren’t going alone!” Alex looked over at his bandmates.

“Okay.” He said.

“Dad?! I just realized I left my phone at Marsters’ House, I’m gonna go grab it!”

It sounded like the aftermath of Thanksgiving dinner from just outside the building. There was yelling at football games and possibly video games. There were lots of people inside- most of them around his age. But the man who opened the door was decidedly not his age. But it was absolutely Seth.

“I’m so sorry to bother you, but I think I may have left my phone in the kitchen?” Julie lied without a blip in her demeanor. Alex was both impressed and terrified. Looking over at Luke, Alex would be willing to guess Luke felt the same way. As they went inside, Alex knew he wouldn’t be going to the kitchen. Instead, he turned down the hall, and followed adult Seth into an office. On Seth’s desk was a photo of him with another handsome man- blond. Seth had a type.

“Alexa?” Seth said, as he settled himself down at his desk. “Play Alex’s Mixtape.” Suddenly, Whitney Houston came from the speakers. Alex couldn’t breathe. Someone grabbed his hand. Julie. She squeezed it tight.

“Thanks Seth! Happy Thanksgiving!” She yelled over her shoulder as she pulled Alex away. Reggie and Luke were waiting outside. He brushed past them for a few yards, pulling his hand free of Julie’s grasp, before having to stop. He crouched on the ground, arms wrapped around his knees, rocking back and forth as sobs ripped from his throat. He felt the rest of the band catch up, wrap their arms around him. He turned his head and sobbed into Luke’s flannel. Reggie rubbed circles on his back. After a few moments, as the sobs subsided, he realized Julie was murmuring something to him.

“Alex, it’s okay. You’re okay. We love you, and you’re okay.”

He inhaled and wiped his face and looked right at Julie.

“I’m gay.” She blinked a few times. Gave her head a little shake Looked at Reggie and Luke, who were holding their breath next to him.

“I- Was-was I not supposed to know that?” She asked.

All three boy’s jaws dropped.

“You knew?” Alex asked. “How long have you known?”

Julie shrugged. “Since like, day one? Anyway, you talk so much about Willie too, so I just assumed that-” She stopped suddenly. “Seth. You’re Seth’s Alex. Oh my god.” She stood up and took a few steps back, then started pacing. “There’s no way. None. I don’t understand.” She looked at the guys. “Seth has seen the video my dad made for Edge of Great. How did he just not notice?”

“I noticed.” A voice came from behind her. Julie whipped around. “Your dad called. Wanted to make sure we found your phone. I told him you had left already, but I figured I’d check to see how far you’d gotten. Didn’t expect you to have company.” Seth stuffed his hands into the pockets of his trousers.

“Can you see them?” Julie asked.

Seth shook his head. “No. But I mean, you’re talking to air. And it sure sounds like you’re trying to talk Alex out of an anxiety attack. Lord knows I’d done that a few times.” He got quiet for a minute. Alex stood, and walked slowly until he was face to face with Seth. He had more wrinkles around his eyes than Alex remembered, but of course. He was twenty-five years older. “Is he here?”

“Tell him I tried to take the blame.” Alex turned towards to Julie. “Please.”

She nodded. “He says he tried to take the blame. He didn’t want his parents to blame it on you.”

“I mean, I did kiss him first. Anyway, they were going to send me for conversion therapy no matter what.” Julie winced. Alex looked back and forth between Julie and Seth.

“What’s that? They sent him to a school. That’s what they told me”

“No, Alex.” Julie said quietly. “It wasn’t a school.”

Seth sighed. “Of course, that’s what they told him.” He looked at Julie and the empty space around her. “Um, where…”

“Oh! Um, A little towards your left, just kind half turn, and he’s right in front of you.”

Seth shifted and looked at Alex. “It wasn’t a school. It was a group of people who thought that, through a bunch of therapy and medical procedures, they could make me not gay anymore. Clearly, it was not successful, as I am still a flaming homosexual.” Julie giggled at that, and Alex couldn’t help but smile as he saw Seth’s face break into the familiar grin he once knew. His heart ached a little as it faded away. “I was worried they’d sent you to one too. And when I heard you had passed away from a bad hot dog, I worried- well, I was scared that it was a cover-up. That you’d… Anyway.” He trailed off. “I have no idea how you’re here. Or why. But I’m happy. I love Colby. He reminds me of you sometimes. You’d have been great friends. We met at a Whitney Houston Concert in DC when I was in college. He spilled his beer on me during I’ll Always Love You. I said you were sending me a sign.”

Alex blinked back tears. “It was the best kiss of my life.”

Julie smiled. “He said it was the best kiss of his life.” Luke pouted and crossed his arms as Julie’s eyes got wide.

“It is a long story.” Alex laughed, as he wiped away some tears.

“Want a ride home?” Seth asked Julie. “Something tells me you’ve got a lot going on.” Julie nodded.

Later that night, there was a knock at the studio door. Alex did not expect to see Julie, in her pajamas and with a blanket and pillow outside the studio.

“Hey! Are you okay?”

Julie nodded. “We’re watching a movie.” She held up a copy of The Bodyguard on DVD. “I knew my mom had a copy somewhere.”

As they snuggled on the couch, Julie’s back against Luke’s chest, her legs draped over Alex’s lap, Reggie sitting on the ground in front of them, holding Julie’s hand and leaning against Alex’s legs, he realized something.

Maybe Thanksgiving wasn’t so bad after all.

#julie and the phantoms #jatp fanfic #Alex #alex jatp #I am the cruise ship of willex #even though I gave him an OC in this #i love my dead gay son #I love my emotional support ghost band #fanfiction #Julie and the Phantoms Fanfiction #Thanksgiving

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l8rhader · 4 years

Text

I'm sorry. I just...Bill had no sooner pressed submit on the design and laughed as he pressed the button to purchase 8 of the t-shirt. Richie Tozier '20. He was thrilled with the outcome and positively giddy at the thought of his friends receiving their gifts. Ever since Richie had engaged in a Twitter beef with Kanye, Kelly Conway, and the President, the idea had been stuck in his head and he had to see it through. In his mind's eye, the group would all wear them to his next show and then toss one onstage at him during a break.

However, his mind's eye was blind to the fact that Richie’s husband-cum-interim-but-probably-permanent-manager got a Google alert every time his husband's name was used. Looking away from his computer and down to his phone, his eyes narrowed. "Stan, I'm gonna have to call you back. We have a funeral to plan."

"A funer-" he started, furrowing his brow. It didn't matter because Eddie was gone.

Pressing the 3rd speed dial on his phone, he was connected to Bill in a flash. "Hey, Eds. Funny you should call-"

"If he ends up in the oval office because of some stupid prank, I'm going to hang you by your toes from the top of the Washington monument, William Alexander Denbrough, and I will get away with it because, somehow,” he rested his head on his palm and groaned, “Somehow, in your pinnacle of horror cliffhangers, you will have made Richie Tozier president and I will have a damn country to run!" When he paused for a breath, Bill's snickering was suddenly audible. "This is not funny! Do you remember what happened last time? We're not fourteen anymore and this is not a mock election for student council! We're adults and between the pair of you and Ben and Bev, you have enough followers to conceivably make a go of it and this cannot happen, Bill!" He rubbed his temples and closed his eyes. "You know I'm gonna hear about this forever, right?"

Bill sighed and shook his head. "You know it's not that bad, right?"

"You know you're an asshole, right?" He sniped through the phone with no real bite.

"You know you have to wear one to his the show, right?" Bill countered.

That was the image that broke Eddie. He barked a laugh. "Yeah, I know. Love you, Big Bill."

"You too, Eddie. See you next weekend," he said, finally starting to gather himself. That is until his phone lit up again with a picture of Stan. He took a deep breath and pressed the button to accept but was greeted, instead, by the banshee-like yell that signaled to the Losers that they had done something so truly hysterical that Stan was nearing aneurysm territory. He was so ready for the payoff.

When Richie strode out onto the stage amidst the announcer's booming voice, ready to take on his new special, Bev gasped, catching a glimpse of the black t-shirt with Richie Tozier ‘20 gleaming across the chest in red and white as it peeked out beneath his blazer. She slapped Mike’s knee and leaned forward to look past him at Bill. Bill looked absolutely stunned. He glanced over at the man beside him accusatorily.

“I swear, Bill, I didn’t,” Eddie whispered, shaking his head. Of course, Richie had bought himself one. He watched, dumbstruck as Richie did his trademark walk, but tried really hard not to notice that his husband, bless him, seemed to forget that he’d recently bulked up quite a bit in the chest and shoulders. Finally, he leaned to his friend and whispered, “I cleared the notification and everything. The asshole must have searched his own name.”

Eddie shook his head. He should have known. It was too good for Richie to pass up.

Having gone to great lengths to avoid revealing his surprise, Richie flicked off his jacket with an excited "How're we all doing tonight?" Eddie’s nervous energy flowed through him and into the hand he'd clasped with Stan who gripped right back. It wasn’t Richie’s first rodeo. Hell, it wasn’t Eddie’s either, but somehow, he couldn’t help but be at least a little nervous about his live wire.

"Welcome to the Trashmouth National Convention. I'm proud to be your nominee this year," he boasted. The crowd gave a confused laugh. "Okay, seriously, which one of you dipshits made this?" He pointed up to the balcony. His fans always had ridiculous merch available online with quotes from his shows. This was new. He pulled the mic from the stand and strolled forward. "Because, I hate to be the one to tell you, it's the worst idea I'm officially obsessed with." He laughed and crossed his arms casually, almost thoughtfully. "I've already got my platform. It's really a 3 part system..."

As he spoke, his friends were almost floored. Of course, it was funny. He's Richie, that's what he does. But it makes sense. Even Mike, who stands just about as far to the opposite of Richie, personality-wise, is hard-pressed to find a flaw.

"Of course, my main platform is reclaiming the name of Richard in politics." He scowled and gave a patented double peace sign. When the grown-up portion of his audience laughed, he pawed them off playfully.

That's when he sees it.

That's when he sees that the entire front row was dressed in identical Richie Tozier '20 campaign shirts and the Trashmouth facade faded away into unrelenting laughter. "Okay, which one of you assholes did this," he coughed between peals. He pointed at Bev accusatorily. She threw her hands in the air, insisting innocence.

Bill called out above the howls of laughter and pointed to himself because he knew just as well as Richie that half of his audience comes in the hope that the Losers will be there and the comedy will delve into personal rhetoric and ridiculous stories about clowns and Paul Bunyan and knife-wielding bullies that exactly no one believes but they're so over the top that they can't help but laugh. Richie doubled over clapping and stomping his feet, his entire act disregarded. Moving to toss the shirt onstage, Bill fumbled and passed it to Ben who flung it effortlessly.

"The talent is supposed to be the one with the T-shirt cannon, Ben," Richie laughed as the shirt zoomed past him, having put no effort into catching it. He darted upstage to retrieve it and unfurled it, identical to his own and his friends. "You know, Bill, I was gonna make you my Vice President, but I'm not too keen on fragging, jerk. Guess it'll have to be Stan."

In tandem, Eddie and Stan folded their arms and shook their heads, sending him off on another bout of riotous laughter. "Okay, he might be more likely than Bill." He loosened his imaginary collar and pulled a face before returning to his routine. If there was one thing of which he was sure, it was that his own personal cabinet could and would never, ever put him under friendly fire.

...

Maybe.

#this is a real shirt that exists #richie tozier #finn wolfhard #bill hader #it #it chapter two #stephen king's it #reddie #bill denbrough #eddie kaspbrak #james mcavoy #jaeden martell #james ransone #jack dylan grazer

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riotwritesthings · 5 years

Text

Baby Crazy

WinterIron, 8k, E, crack | AO3

This is partially because of that video of Sebastian Stan being cute with a kid, and mostly because my friends are terrible influences. By which I mean they’re the best and I LOVE THEM. Here’s some crack. I’d say I’m sorry, but I’m really not. No shame 2020.

For some reason, the children of New York love Bucky Barnes. It’s heartwarming to witness, and it’s making it really hard for Tony to ignore his gigantic crush on the man. Especially because Tony can’t stop suggesting they maybe have a baby together. The rest of the Avengers just want a vacation.

Despite popular belief, Tony does actually think before he speaks the majority of the time. Maybe that doesn’t include when he’s a little slap happy after a fight, but he feels like that should be forgivable. Especially when he’s watching Bucky oh so gently hand a sniffling toddler back to a sobbing mother, and Bucky has to extra gently loosen the kid’s tiny fingers from his tac-vest. There’s only so much Tony can be expected to stand before his brain just checks out.

Tony leans heavier against the concrete barricade in the middle of the street and, completely without thought, quietly sighs out “ugh, just put a baby in me already.” Apparently not quietly enough though, because Bucky’s head snaps up and around to look at him, eyes wide and, if Tony’s not mistaken, the faintest hint of a blush across his cheek bones. Tony, on the other hand, has a horrible feeling that his own face is bright red as he ducks down behind the barricade with a grumble of “stupid enhanced hearing.”

It would be so much less suspicious if Tony could just play it cool, wave and wink and play it off as a joke instead of some kind of weird gut reaction that he really has no idea where it came from. But no, Tony has a big stupid crush, even worse, he has actual adult feelings, and he has already proved himself incapable of ‘playing it cool’ around Bucky. Mostly at this point Tony is just aiming for ‘not a complete idiot.’

He has a terrible feeling he’s failing miserably, and not just because he’s currently crawling away along the ground behind the barricade. “Don’t judge me,” he says as he crawls past Natasha, because he really does not appreciate the scathing look on her face. Then she shakes her head sadly, which is somehow worse, and Tony pouts as he continues his totally manly and mature crawling flee.

He spends the rest of the day avoiding Bucky, telling himself it’s fine. It’s all fine. It’s just because his head got rattled around in that last fall, he’s not obsessed with the idea that Bucky would make a great dad, that Tony would really like to see that up close and personal. Nope, not even a little bit. This isn’t a problem.

And it wouldn’t be a problem, right, Tony says weird shit all the time, it should be swept away under a constant stream of other weird shit, except... Tony can’t seem to stop doing it.

No one is exactly sure when or why it happened, but somehow the Winter Soldier has become the favorite Avenger among the children of New York. Tony gets it, he really does, Bucky has the whole ‘strong silent’ thing going on most of the time, he’s cool and sweet and just the right amount of a smartass. (It’s possible Tony is projecting, just a little bit.) But then the problems began when the kids actually started to approach Bucky, because nothing could have prepared Tony for the sight of Bucky crouched down and patiently letting a bunch of kids poke and prod at his arm.

Tony was already compromised, how could he not be, watching as Bucky smiled gently at an adorable group of children, but then Bucky had looked up and met his eyes, looking confused and excited and terrified and a million other things all at once. A million things that Tony could read in an instant and he’d immediatly lost himself in about a thousand different day dreams of raising a family together, what the fuck.

It had really forced Tony to deal with the fact that his ‘stupid crush’ is more ‘actual adult feelings that will never go away and will probably eventually ruin his life’, because there’s nothing like watching the man he’s terrifyingly in love with interact with small children to finally and officially ruin his denial. Tony had spent two days locked in his lab stress-building after that little revelation, ignoring the fact that apparently he’d been spending so much time with Bucky lately that Tony was missing him after even a couple hours, and come out of the whole thing almost convinced that he would be able to handle this. He could act like everything is normal, like nothing had changed.

Tony had been very, very wrong. He cannot handle this, and he absolutely cannot act normal. How can he possibly act normal when the second they leave the tower to get some lunch Bucky is swarmed with excited children, and Tony gets to watch Bucky’s small grin bloom into something wide and warm and soft? Tony is only human, okay. One of the kids tugs at Bucky’s pant leg until he kneels down and lets the kid whisper something in his ear, and Tony whines under his breath as he clutches at his stomach.

“Bruce help,” he mutters, quietly enough that he almost definitely won’t be overheard this time, “I think my ovaries just exploded.”

“I’m not that kind of doctor,” Bruce responds absently, and then apparently actually registers the sentence because he looks up from the takeout menu he’s been pouring over to fix Tony with a flat look. “You need help,” he says seriously, “please just talk to the man like a reasonable person.”

“About putting his baby in me?” Tony asks hopefully, then pouts when Bruce just shakes his head and walks away.

“I’m going to get lunch, you can join me when Bucky’s done with his newest fans and you’re ready to act like a human,” Bruce calls over his shoulder, heartlessly.

Tony’s head whips back around at the sound of Bucky’s quiet, rumbling laugh just in time to see the kid’s face light up proudly, and Tony makes another strangled sound deep in his chest.

As a general rule, Tony does not enjoy PR stunts. He just might be able to excuse this one though, seeing as how it is in Central Park, and he gets to actually enjoy some sunlight rather than being shoved in another room full of socialites. And this one is for children, who Tony generally like way better than socialites or the press anyways.

It is both a gift and a curse, really, because now Tony is sitting at a picnic table watching a bunch of giggling kids braid flowers into Bucky’s hair under a tree about thirty feet away. Flowers. Into Bucky’s hair. Tony is charmed, and a little jealous, sure, because he wants to play with Bucky’s hair too damnit, but mostly Tony is just hopelessly charmed.

Tony groans pathetically for the third time in as many minutes and slumps down across the table, barely avoiding face planting into a half eaten cake that, ironically, has all their faces on it. "Real question,” Tony says out loud to no one, “do you think he'll have my babies?"

"I don't... think that's possible, Tony," Steve says slowly, and Tony jumps a little because he maybe forgot Steve was there. When he looks up Steve is making a weird scrunched face, like some kind of prude, as he says “what-"

"Then I'll have his babies, I don’t give a fuck," Tony huffs, dropping his chin to his crossed arms and fixing his eyes back on Bucky. Who is now letting a beaming little girl place a flower crown on his head and Tony doesn't even care that he’s probably going to have to pay for all those ripped up flower beds.

"I don't... think that would work either,” Steve says, breaking into Tony’s swooning again, “seriously, what-"

"But,” Tony interrupts, raising one finger as he turns back towards Steve, “what if he fucks me really, really hard?”

"I don't think you know where babies come from," Sam says and Tony jumps again, because when did Sam get here?

"You wont know if you don't try," Clint points out cheerfully, and when did that asshole get here?!

"Don't encourage him, I don't want to think about any of this," Steve says with a groan, pushing away his plate of food.

Tony finally sits up properly to look around the table in confusion as he asks "when did you assholes get here? Don’t you need to go charm parents or something? I already did my shift.”

"We've been here the whole time, man," Sam says and great, now they're all giving him weird looks, "you need to get it together, there are kids around."

"He needs a basic sex ed class," Clint says, and when Tony looks over Clint is rearranging the remainders of the cake to Frankenstein together what’s left of their faces. Tony doesn’t understand how he’s the weird one here.

Tony has a response to all of this negativity, it is a clever and scathing response and he forgets it instantly when Bucky turns towards the table, waving at them with the chubby little fist of the kid he’s now holding in his arms.

Tony slumps back down across the splintery wood with a garbled groaning sound that turns into a sigh of "fuck I want his babies inside me so goddam bad."

"Gross," Sam says while Steve makes exaggerated gagging noises and pushes his plate further away. “Man up,” Sam says cryptically, patting Tony on the shoulder and Tony groans again. At least it’s followed by the sounds of everyone getting up and finally leaving him alone to his misery / daydreams of how adorable babies made by Bucky would be.

At the sound of approaching footsteps Tony looks up again to ask if they’re sure he can’t have Bucky’s babies only to squeak instead because oh look, it’s Bucky. Still holding a child, both of them smiling hopefully at Tony and Tony’s heart lurches dangerously in his chest.

“Hunter here has something for you,” Bucky says, his voice soft in a way Tony has never heard before and the kid nods eagerly before wiggling around to dig his little hand into the giant pocket on his tiny little cargo pants. Bucky has to shift his grip constantly to keep the kid from tumbling out of his arms as Hunter pulls out a sheet of paper folded over itself multiple times and Tony’s not about to sob, he’s not. Everything is fine.

It’s a welcome distraction when the kid abruptly throws his weight forward, arms outstretched, and Tony has to reach out to grab him as Bucky makes panic face and just tries not to drop the over-excited kid.

“Woah, okay, what do you have for me?” Tony asks, twisting sideways on the awkward picnic table seat so he can settle the kid in his lap and then help to unfold the paper.

It turns out that what Hunter has is an impressively and hilariously accurate drawing of their fight with the giant frog last month, and Tony instantly loves it. He loves it more and more as the kid stutters through an explanation of every painstakingly included detail, like Thor covered in slime, and the exact moment Tony came bursting out of the frog’s chest in a spray of red crayon.

“Hunter, I can’t lie to you,” Tony says seriously once the kid has finished explaining that the Hulk is purple because his dog ate the green, “this is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Amazing. Are you sure I can keep it? This should be in museums.”

Tony grins wide when Hunter bursts into delighted laughter, pushing the paper harder into Tony’s hands. When he looks up again Bucky is still standing there, smiling down at them all soft and warm, purple and yellow flower crown sitting a little lopsided on his head, and Tony’s heart lurches again.

"Are we ready to go?" Tony asks, looking around one last time even though FRIDAY has already confirmed they’ve successfully rounded up all the tiny, vicious alien mice.

"Almost, Bucky is taking pictures with a couple kids who snuck past the police barricades," Natasha says, looking entirely too proud of random thrill-seeking kids as she points somewhere behind Tony.

Tony does not turn to look, because that sounds dangerously adorable, and instead just tips his head back with a heavy sigh as he asks "but when is he going to give me a baby?"

"What was that?" comes a voice from behind him, and Tony spins on his heel so fast the armor gouges into the street a little to find that yep, Bucky is right there with an expression that Tony kind of wants to call bemused teasing. Or maybe just confused amusement.

Tony definitely can't run away this time, mostly because the stupid tiny alien mice got into his boots and chewed up the important wires. He’s also pretty sure he can hear Natasha snickering at him, so he figures hey, fuck it, might as well double down. “I said," Tony repeats with an over-exaggerated roll of his eyes, "when are you going to give me a baby?!”

He’s not sure how he actually expects Bucky to respond to that, because Tony has not thought this through at the fuck all, but he’s definitely not expecting Bucky to look surprised for a split second before giving Tony a smirk that is honestly filthy, how dare he make that face in broad daylight. “Maybe once things calm down at work,” Bucky says lightly, patting Tony on the shoulder as he walks past on the way to the transport vans.

“Some of us aren’t getting any younger here!” Tony calls after him, and it’s probably ridiculous to want to pout just because he couldn’t actually feel Bucky’s hand on his shoulder through the armor. He is anyways though, because frankly it’s way easier than dwelling on the fact that okay, apparently they joke about this now. That definitely won’t make Tony’s problems worse or anything, not a chance.

“Well you certainly look like ya are,” Bucky says, pausing to toss Tony a wink before clambering into the back of the van.

Tony is too busy stuttering and blushing to notice he’s moving, and then he’s walking straight into the side of the van with a tellingly loud clang of armor against metal. Natasha outright laughs at him, and Tony is pretty sure he can hear laughter from inside the van, too. Life is so unfair.

“You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?” Steve demands with slowly dawning horror.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Bucky says flatly, but Steve is not an idiot, and he absolutely sees the way Bucky keeps glancing across the road as he hoists a laughing child up to sit on his shoulder. In fact, Bucky appears to be staring straight at Tony, who’s slumped back against his parked car with an expression that Steve wants to call half pain and half longing. And half stupid.

Steve has already had more than enough of this, thank you very much, but his attempt to storm off down the street is thwarted by Tony chasing him down, clutching at his arm, and frantically whispering “I want his baby.”

“It doesn’t work like that Tony,” Steve says miserably, trying and somehow failing to pry Tony’s grip loose, “that's my best friend, please stop saying these things to me.”

“Okay, but I want it,” Tony whispers back, clearly not listening at all and still staring at Bucky with wide eyes, “I want his baby inside me, and I want him to put it there. Vigorously.”

“Please go back to whining about how pretty his hair is, that was way better than this,” Steve begs, which are some words that he never thought he’d say and these pining morons might actually be the death of him. He never thought he’d miss the days when they just silently made heart eyes at each other from across a room.

As they both watch Bucky boosts another kid up onto his other shoulder while their equally excited dad snaps approximately a million photos on his phone, and Tony nearly sobs out “fuck me, I just love him so much.”

Steve rolls his eyes with a sigh, then snaps his head around to stare at Tony with one eyebrow raised. “Wait,” Steve says slowly, a smirk growing on his face because this is certainly a new development, “what was that last part?”

Tony blinks dumbly at him for a second, like he legitimately hasn’t been listening to himself when he speaks, and then his eyes go wide. “I said he’s hot and I want to have his babies!” Tony says, probably too loudly considering they’re still standing on the street and Steve has to resist the urge to laugh. “I didn’t say that I have feelings! There are zero feelings here, fuck you!” Tony continues, looking more and more panicked by the second and Steve almost feels bad for him. Except for the fact that he does not, not even a little bit.

”Very convincing,” Steve says, patting Tony on the back. Down the street Bucky carefully sets both kids back on their feet and waves goodbye, and Tony makes a strangled sound.

Sometimes, Tony thinks back fondly on when things in his life made a single bit of goddamn sense. Mostly though, he’s accepted this interesting new form of insanity.

Like when he walks into the kitchen to find Bucky and Peter sitting at the kitchen table, Peter giggling to himself as he sticks what appears to be Mario magnets all over Bucky’s left arm. Why wouldn’t this be happening?! Tony can’t help the short laugh that bursts out of him before he manages to smother it down, and Bucky turns to him with a baleful look.

“I’m not crazy about the kid from your first marriage,” Bucky says flatly, and Tony loses control of his laughter again as Peter makes a squawking sound caught somewhere between offended and confused.

“Well, he’s part of the deal,” Tony says with a shrug, and smiles brightly as Peter makes a couple more meaningless noises. He refills his coffee mug, then fixes Bucky with a serious look even as he starts backing out of the room and says “you want some better ones, we better get started on making them.”

“I’ll put it in m’ calendar,” Bucky says with a wink, and Tony pretends to swoon so that hopefully no one will notice that he’s actually swooning a little bit, cheeks warm and everything.

“I am scared and confused,” Peter volunteers, green shell magnet still clutched between his fingers, and Tony laughs his way out of the room as Peter squeaks “am I being adopted?!”

Steve walks into the living room to find Bucky sitting on the couch in the near-dark, face buried in his palms, and is instantly on high alert. “Bucky?” Steve asks, looking around the room, but the TV is currently showing a geico commercial and somehow Steve doesn’t think that’s the problem. “What’s going on- what’s wrong?”

When Bucky lifts his head and looks up at Steve his eyes are wet, and Steve is about to panic right up until Bucky opens his mouth and says “Steve. He’s so fucking precious, Steve. What the fuck.”

“What,” Steve says flatly, because what the fuck is Bucky talking about. He looks around the room again, hoping this time he’ll find some kind of answer, and oh look at that, the commercials have ended and apparently Bucky has been sitting here watching the highlights of last night’s press event. More specifically, the interview Tony had done with a tiny well-dressed child outside the actual event. Because of course that’s what Bucky is nearly crying over. “I hate you both,” Steve says with a sigh that feels like it comes from the very depths of his soul.

“Steve,” Bucky says again, eyes back on the TV, “Steve, do you think Tony’s kids would be as pretty as him?”

“I want to disown both of you,” Steve says, and then huffs in annoyance because Bucky is clearly not listening.

“He has an entire wall of art and letters from kids in his workshop,” Bucky continues on, completely unphased by Steve’s hate, “he can still tell the story behind each and every one of them. Bet he’d make the prettiest fuckin’ babies.”

“I’m leaving,” Steve says, but before he can actually move Bucky is whipping his head back around with a distressingly hopeful look on his face. “No-“ Steve tries to say, because he has a terrible feeling he knows exactly where this is going, but Bucky talks right over him.

“Steve,” Bucky says and completely ignores Steve’s desperate head shaking as he asks “do you think Tony would have my babies? We would make the cutest little babies on the entire fuckin’ planet, I just know it.”

“Nope,” Steve says loudly, finally spinning on his heel and stomping out of the room, “nope nope nope, I don’t want to be a part of this. I’m taking the quinjet, if anyone needs me, don’t, because I will be back in the damn ice.”

“Steve!” Bucky shouts after his retreating back, “don’t you think our babies would be cute, Steve?!”

Tony isn’t sure why people seem so determined to hand Bucky their babies lately, but he’s certainly not complaining. By which Tony means that he is absolutely complaining, because just once he would like to go out for dinner with his teammates without his heart exploding over the sight of Bucky cuddling a chunky little infant close to his chest.

“I want to have his babies,” Tony sighs, hands clutched to his chest, and it really should be more concerning that he’s barely even aware he’s doing it anymore, doesn’t realize the words are out until Steve sighs heavily beside him.

“Tony please, stop,” Steve says, eyes closed and expression pinched like he’s getting a headache, “why can’t you just talk to each other like normal people.”

“I talk to Bucky all the time,” Tony objects, because he really does, he spends more time with Bucky than just about anyone these days. He just doesn’t talk about pointless, useless things, like his feelings, or the fact that his biological cock is apparently chiming like Big Fucking Ben.

Steve just sighs again, looking around like he’s trying to find help but Rhodey and Sam had left them behind almost as soon as they had stopped, the bastards. Tony is helpless to look away as the baby raises one tiny hand to pat at Bucky’s cheek, and when Bucky turns his head, meeting Tony’s eyes as he pretends to bite and then gently kisses that chubby little baby fist Tony makes a squealing sound deep in his chest that finally has Steve walking away too.

Tony goes home at the end of the night and sobs into his pillow. More or less. He collapses across the couch in his suite and presses his face into the armrest as he whines “it’s like he doesn’t even care that I have a heart condition! How am I supposed to live like this?!”

“Then fuck him or die already,” Rhodey says heartlessly, sprawled across the armchair and flipping obnoxiously through a magazine. Tony doesn’t even know where he got a magazine, because it’s certainly not Tony’s.

“It’s like you have no sympathy for my pain,” Tony says, finally pulling his face away from the arm rest to glare at his so-called best friend.

“Ran out of it months ago,” Rhodey agrees, loudly turning another page and Tony is pretty sure he brought that magazine himself, just so he could do this. Tony has to admire that level of dedication.

Tony blasts one of the flying monkeys, actually, real flying monkeys, out of the air as it tries to swoop down at Bucky, and this is one of the times that the insanity level of their lives is a little too high for even Tony’s standards. It’s almost worth it though, because Bucky looks up at him with a quick flash of a grin and his voice is warm through the comms as he says “thanks sugar.”

“You know how you can make it up to me?” Tony asks, ignoring the flush working its way across his face in favor of smirking widely because he can already hear the rest of the team groaning in protest. And hey, great thing about a metal suit, no one can see you blush.

“How’s that, sweet thing?” Bucky asks, also ignoring the rest of their team and Tony can hear the grin in his voice even as Bucky leaps over to the next rooftop and takes aim at another swarm of flying monkeys. Flying. Monkeys.

“Don’t,“ Sam says, and there’s a grunt as he kicks one of the pests out of the air, “this stopped being funny so long ago.”

“You could put a-“ Tony starts, only to be cut off by a combination of his own laughter, Sam’s protesting sounds, and one of the monkeys crashing into him and trying to pry his helmet off.

“Tony please I am begging you-“ Steve tries, and Tony would swear he can actually hear Steve’s soul leaving his body.

“Put a goddamn baby in me!” Tony finishes with maybe a little too much emotion, knocking the monkey and away and blasting it with great prejudice.

“Alright it’s funny again,” Clint says around a burst of giggles, but Tony is much more interested in Bucky’s quiet laugh. It has him smiling all through the rest of the fight, even if it is with goddamn flying monkeys.

“Bruce, I need to ask you something,” Steve says, bursting into the library and he feels bad when Bruce startles hard. Bruce nods though, still looking a little rattled, so Steve decides to launch right into it. “So you know how Tony and Bucky are being extra obnoxious with their super obvious pining lately?”

“Unfortunately,” Bruce says with a pinched expression that Steve knows all too well. He’s pretty sure that’s what his own face looks like all the time lately.

“So I realized, there’s still a lot I don’t know about the world these days, I am constantly learning new things, and it occurred to me-“ Steve pauses, chewing on his lip for a second before he decides to just blurt it out. “They can’t actually make a baby, right?! Because I’m pretty sure they’re just being dumb but I also don’t want to be wrong, and- Bruce, am I going to be an uncle?!”

Bruce just blinks at him for several long, silent seconds. Then he shuts his book with a decisive thunk, pushes himself to his feet, and firmly says “I need a vacation.”

“That’s not an answer to my question!” Steve protests, because at this point Bruce is basically the only person Steve can trust to not fuck with him about this. And Steve has learned his lesson about diving too deep into google looking for answers. That way lies madness.

“Vacation,” Bruce says again, then politely but firmly elbows his way past Steve and out the door.

“I’m not ready to be an uncle!” Steve calls after him, and pouts when Bruce refuses to come back and answer his questions.

Tony did not start the day thinking he’d end it getting crushed by an air-born taxi during what should have been a routine fight, but it looks like that’s what’s going to happen. Because of course the latest bad guy just has to go down in a blaze of exploding glory that knocks Tony to the ground, disables his suit, and flings every vehicle parked along the block flying.

The taxi is just a blur of yellow as it approaches, and Tony squeezes his eyes shut. He peeks one open hesitantly when several seconds go by and he still hasn’t been crushed, and then chokes on his breath at the sight of Bucky standing above him, holding the majority of the car off the ground with no apparent effort.

“Please put a baby in me,” Tony blurts, entire body flushing hot and he’s so far past caring if that’s somehow become his gut reaction to just about everything Bucky does, he’s never meant anything so much in his life.

Bucky smirks slow and filthy, which is unfair to begin with, and then holy mother of god switches to holding the taxi with one hand so he can pretend to tug at his belt with the other as he asks “right now?”

“No!” Comes several shouting voices through the comms, and Tony laughs weakly. It’s probably a good thing the fight is over, because he doesn’t think he has the brainpower to even stand right now and wow, this armor is not erection friendly.

When Tony looks around it’s to see Steve sitting on the curb with his face in his hands, and if he listens closely he can just barely hear Steve muttering something under his breath that sounds like the word ‘stupid’ over and over again. Clint is standing nearby with what appears to be his phone held out, like he’s recording Tony’s mini-crisis here, and Tony would be upset if it didn’t mean there might be actual footage of Bucky catching the car. Which Tony would really like to see. For reasons. Natasha is just shaking her head like she’s ashamed of all of them, and from the looks of it Sam has already flown away.

“Maybe later,” Tony says regretfully, and tries not to moan out loud when Bucky easily shoves the car away.

Bucky offers him a hand and Tony to his feet, steadying him when Tony’s legs threaten to give out and Tony really hopes he can blame that on the unpowered suit.

“This is why I can’t have anything nice,” Tony says with a heavy sigh as Clint tackles Sam off the couch, one of their controllers flying across the room in the process to clatter loudly into the wall.

He turns at the sound of quiet laughter from behind him, because Tony would know that laugh anywhere, and sure enough he looks up just in time to watch as Bucky launches himself over the back of the couch and lands right beside him, arm still stretched out along the back and so close to being wrapped around Tony’s shoulders.

“I don’t know why you want more kids,” Bucky says, grinning over at him before shooting a pointed look at the oversized children still wrestling on the floor. “The ones we already have are terrible.”

“I resent that,” Natasha says from the safety of the armchair, easily winning now that all her competition is thoroughly distracted, “some of us are perfectly pleasant.”

“You’re on thin ice,” Tony tells her, punching absently at the buttons of his own controller because he can’t look away from Bucky’s stupid beautiful face, and his stupid gorgeous smile. Finally he gets it together enough to tell Bucky “that’s why we need more, these are the worst children. We need to replace all of them. If at first you don’t succeed try, try again, and all that.”

Bucky turns back to him with a toothy grin that has Tony flushing hot all over and says “wanna replace all of ‘em, huh? Sounds like a whole lot of tryin’.”

“Get a room,” Clint says, voice muffled because his face is currently stuffed into Sam’s armpit, his own finger shoved into Sam’s ear for some reason.

“That’s what we’re trying to plan here,” Tony says, but it gets drowned out by Natasha’s cheer of victory and the ensuing fight as Clint tries to tackle her out of her chair too.

“Bucky,” Steve says, as reasonably as he possibly can, “you gotta put the baby down.”

“No. Why?” Bucky demands petulantly, clutching the baby closer while it giggles and coos.

“Because Tony is in the corner literally sobbing and looking at cribs online and this is getting out of hand,” Steve says, and when he looks over at where he’d left Tony all he sees is the top of the man’s hair where it’s peaking up above one of the tables lining the edges of the room, and apparently Tony is now hiding behind furniture. That might actually be better, somehow. At least he’s not wandering around asking people for input on baby clothes anymore. “Please put the baby down and just go ask him out like a normal person,” Steve begs.

“I’m not putting the baby down,” Bucky says stubbornly, even as his attention is now firmly fixed on the top of Tony’s head, “did you even see his tiny little bowtie?”

“I did see his little bowtie,” Steve says, taking a deep breath and trying to summon all of his patience. He can’t start yelling in front of a baby, in the middle of a black tie charity gala, no matter how much he wants to. “I also saw Tony basically burst into tears the second you picked up the baby, and if the two of you don’t get it together soon you’re going to drive us all insane. Please just ask him out.”

Bucky looks down at the baby again, bouncing it a little in his arms and Steve kind of hates that Bucky still manages to find a way to look unsure about this. “What if he says no?” Bucky asks, barely loud enough for Steve to hear him.

“Are you fu- are you fooling with me right now?” Steve demands and there he goes, he’s about to completely lose it in front of all these nice because because his best friends are just so stupid.

“Don’t swear in front of th’ baby,” Bucky chides him.

“I’m not swearing in front of the baby,” Steve grits out, “now go ask out the man you’ve been offering to impregnate for longer than any of us are comfortable with.”

Bucky still isn’t looking at him, barely even manages a smile when the baby tugs at his tie and makes an unbearably adorable gurgling sound. “He’s just kiddin’ around,” Bucky says, voice quieter than Steve has ever heard it, “he- he doesn’t mean any of it.”

Steve glances over at the corner again, where it looks like Natasha and Rhodey are trying to talk Tony out of whatever online shopping spree he’s on. Then Steve takes a long, deep breath. “Put the baby down,” he says to Bucky calmly, “so that I can punch you in the face really, really hard.”

Tony knows Bucky is in the living room watching old cartoons for some reason, because he always is on Thursday afternoons, so Tony pours a second cup of coffee and carries it in from the kitchen.

“Coffee for you, oh father of my disaster children,” Tony announces as he rounds the couch, Bucky’s favorite mug outstretched, “I even made it disgustingly sweet the way you like, even though it actually hurt my soul a little bit. I felt real pain.”

“Thanks doll,” Bucky says, easy as anything, leaning forward to take the mug from Tony’s suddenly numb hand. His smile is warm and happy and gorgeous and it makes Tony’s heart start beating triple time in his chest.

“You know how you can make it up to me?” Tony asks, and his own voice echoes hollowly in his ears because he has an idea, and it’s probably a terrible one, but he thinks he might just go through with it anyways.

“How’s that, darlin’?” Bucky asks, grinning wider and he’s waiting for the same old joke but there’s something in his eyes, something Tony knows. Something that has him stumbling a half step closer, licking his lips nervously and shivering when Bucky’s eyes track the movement.

This is it, this is Tony’s last chance to chicken out, to not ruin his friendship with a sweet, clever guy that Tony’s not sure he could actually live without at this point. Tony doesn’t back out. “You could kiss me,” he says instead, voice shaking, clutching his own coffee mug to his chest like it could possibly protect him.

Bucky blinks at him slowly. “You know that’s not how babies are made, right?” He asks, one eyebrow raised, expression slowly shifting from confused to hesitantly hopeful.

“Yeah,” Tony agrees, nodding a little wildly, “but, I thought- you know, I figured it might be a good start.”

Bucky calmly sets his coffee down the on the table. Then he surges to his feet, takes Tony’s face between his big palms and finally, finally kisses him deep and hungry. Tony’s own mug goes crashing to the floor and Tony does not care at all, not when he can finally wrap his arms around Bucky without wondering how long is too long, without worrying that he’ll give himself away. All of Tony’s cards are already on the table here and Bucky is apparently right there with him, fingers sliding back into Tony’s hair and a low, desperate noise rumbling through his chest.

So Tony just holds on, tangles his own fingers in Bucky’s hair, digs his fingers into the thick muscle of Bucky’s shoulder and kisses him back. Tony kisses him back for all he’s worth, because if Bucky still thinks this is a joke then Tony is at least going to pour everything he can into it, going to do everything he can to memorize the feeling of Bucky’s lips against his, Bucky’s nails scratching at his scalp when Tony teases his tongue along the roof of his mouth.

Except Tony is starting to think this was never a joke, not to either of them, because when they break away panting Bucky’s just drags his hands down Tony’s back, pulls him in closer and sighs out “oh- Tony-“

”Also, you should put a baby in me,” Tony blurts, because how can he not, laughing giddily.

Bucky does not laugh. Instead Bucky lets out a low groan, hands sliding lower to palm at Tony’s ass as he growls “I’m gonna fuckin’ try.”

Tony is still laughing as Bucky pulls him into another kiss, and then he stops laughing, gets lost in just trying not to melt as Bucky licks into his mouth, kisses him deep and filthy. Tony completely fails, melts easy as anything under Bucky’s attention and the next thing he knows they’re on the ground, barely avoiding the spilled coffee as Bucky shoves his way between Tony’s thighs.

Bucky bites at Tony’s lip and along his jaw, slides a hand under the small of Tony’s back and hitches his hips up so Bucky can grind against the curve of his ass as he growls out “fuck, babydoll- you been tryin’ to make me think about fuckin’ you all the damn time?”

“Were you?” Tony asks, breathless and delighted, arching his back harder and grinding up against Bucky’s stomach with a shaking moan. “Because that was not an intended side effect, but I am also not complaining.”

“Still thinking about it,” Bucky says on a soft groan, nearly shoving them both across the floor with how hard he’s grinding himself against Tony, “fuck, sweet thing I have been dyin’ t’ get inside you.”

“Then fuckin’ do it,” Tony moans back, fingers scrambling at Bucky’s shoulders, yanking him into another kiss and moaning again when Bucky’s fingers slip down the back of his sweats.

Tony doesn’t even notice the approaching foot steps until he hears the voice of patriotic disapproval, screeching out “hey Bucky are you still in- oh what the fuck guys?!”

“Get the fuck out, Steve!” Bucky yells, voice rough and it sends a shiver all down Tony’s spine.

“We’re trying to make a baby here!” Tony shouts at the same time, tightens his thighs around Bucky’s hips and doesn’t stop grinding up against him.

“I hate you both and I’m so happy for you!” Steve screams back as he high tails it out of the room.

They both dissolve into laughter, and it warms Tony’s heart as much as his pants to feel Bucky’s quiet laugh rumbling through his chest and into Tony’s. He kisses Bucky again, light and sweet even though they’re both smiling too wide to really make it work, and then says “we should probably get out of the living room. I propose my bed, it’s the best.”

“Counter proposal,” Bucky says and then stands up, lifts Tony straight off the ground and up into his arms, “we find the closest room with a fuckin’ door.”

“Hnng,” Tony says in response, and Bucky laughs against his throat, digs his fingers into Tony’s ass.

They end up in the pantry, which is not ideal but definitely the closest option. Bucky presses him up against the shelves and it’s not exactly comfortable but Tony doesn’t care, because Bucky kisses him deeply and starts tearing at both their clothes. And Tony can grab ahold of the shelf above his head, try to rock himself down into it as Bucky starts fingering him open with some kind of oil from a bottle that’s currently abandoned on the floor, spilling everywhere.

“C’mon, fuck-“ Tony gasps out, thighs shaking around Bucky’s hips as Bucky’s fingers press into him again, deep and demanding. “Fuck- please hurry the fuck up, I have been- ohh-“ Tony gets a little distracted from what he’s saying when Bucky finds his prostate and decides to play with that new discovery for a minute, doesn’t let up until Tony’s entire body is flushed hot and tingly, ragged whimpers tearing from his chest and already embarrassingly close to the edge.

“What was that, sugar?” Bucky asks and oh, Tony can just hear the smirk in his voice even if he can’t see it because Bucky is doing his best to turn Tony’s neck into an impressionist painting. When Tony opens his mouth to reply Bucky slides a third finger into him, sucks hard to Tony’s pulse and it turns his words into more garbled moans.

“Fuck me already,” Tony finally manages to snarl out, digging his heels into the small of Bucky’s back and tugging him closer, “god- please honey I have been going crazy thinking about getting your cock in me and- ah, yes fuck god- and I swear if you don’t hurry the fuck up-“

Bucky cuts him off with another kiss, sloppy and breathless and Tony whines as Bucky spreads his fingers a little more, stretches him a little wider. “Been thinkin’ about this too,” Bucky says, swipes his tongue over Tony’s lip and growls when Tony shakes and clenches around his fingers, “spreading you open jus’ like this, fuckin’ you every possible way, stuff you so full you get every one of those damn kids you want so bad.”

“Bucky-“ Tony whines desperatly as every word sends another hot spike straight to his gut and fuck that shouldn’t be so hot but fuck it really is. “Please, please- fuck I swear I’m ready just fuck me open already-“ Tony trails off again when Bucky withdraws his fingers, makes whining noises of protest until the head of Bucky’s cock nudges against him, slick and huge.

And then Bucky starts pressing into him, cock spreading Tony open a little more with every hard roll of his hips while Tony moans his head off, knocking everything off the shelves as he tries to brace himself, tries to shove himself further down onto Bucky’s cock, tires to take him deeper.

“Patience, babydoll,” Bucky says, breath shaking against Tony’s jaw, “gonna fuck you just the way you want I just- damn you feel good- just gotta do this part nice an’ slow an’-“

“Fuck that,” Tony decides, finally gets his hand braced properly and shoves himself down hard, wailing breathlessly as his Bucky’s hips slam against his ass, his cock sliding so deep that Tony swears he can feel it everywhere. “Yes, god, fucking perfect,” Tony sighs and yeah that burns a bit, and yeah he’s definitely going to be feeling it tomorrow, but it is so worth if for the feeling of Bucky’s cock throbbing inside him, the slightly dazed look on Bucky’s face even as he grinds a little deeper.

Bucky’s grip is bruisingly tight on Tony’s hips, pulling him into it as Bucky rolls his hips a little harder. “Wanted it that bad, huh?” Bucky asks, scraping his teeth over the shell of Tony’s ear and tightening this grip to stop Tony from trying to fuck himself on Bucky’s cock.

“Yeah, let me have it,” Tony whines, tightening his legs around Bucky’s hips and he doesn’t care that Bucky’s jeans are digging into his thighs, that his own sweats are still hanging off one ankle, that they’re still in the goddamn pantry. All he cares about is getting properly fucked, the way he’s been dying for, and the fact that Bucky isn’t just giving it to him. “Please honey, fuck me already, make me feel it, fill me up and then fuck me again, gimme everything you got.”

“I’ll give you everthin’,” Bucky promises, warm and earnest against Tony’s lips, then withdraws and thrusts back into Tony fast and hard, knocking a loud moan out of his chest that only gets louder as Bucky immediately starts up a brutal, perfect rhythm. “Gonna give you exactly what you want,” he growls between thrusts, dropping sharp, toothy kisses along Tony’s jaw, “fuck you so full you’re leakin’ with it, an’ then do it everyday ‘til I knock you up good and proper.”

“Holy fuck,” Tony groans, finally releasing his hold on the shelves to grab for Bucky instead. Something goes crashing to the ground, definitely breaking, but all Tony can focus on is the aching pleasure of Bucky moving inside him, thick cock rubbing over his prostate and pressing so deep inside him that his every breath comes out as a warbling moan. “Please, please- oh fuck that’s perfect, you’re so perfect-“

Bucky’s next thrust is hard enough that everything on the shelves rattle, a couple more things falling to the ground and Tony nearly screams before Bucky smashes their lips together again. He licks hungrily into Tony’s mouth and pulls him impossibly closer, until he’s basically just fucking Tony up and down on his cock while Tony wails and clenches around him.

“So fuckin’ good,” Bucky gasps when they break apart again, his thrusts going short and uncoordinated, hips slapping roughly aginst Tony’s ass, “so tight and warm, take me so fuckin’ perfect, tell me you’re close sweet thing, wanna feel you come on my cock.”

“I’ve been close since the living room floor,” Tony says with a sound that’s somewhere between a laugh and a sob, tangling his fingers in Bucky’s hair and pulling him into a kiss that more sharing air than anything, “please, please-“

Bucky presses him harder into the shelves and gets one hand between them, rubs his thumb over the head of Tony’s cock and Tony is fucking gone. He comes with a loud, garbled moan that was intended to be Bucky’s name, orgasm washing through him in heated waves until everything goes a little warm and hazy.

“Tony, Tony- fuck-“ Bucky groans, fucking Tony into the shelves with short, hard thrusts, grinding deep and Tony can feel the way Bucky’s cock twitches inside him, “Tony-“

“C’mon honey,” Tony slurs out, rocking his hips into the next thrust and tugging at Bucky’s hair, “put your fuckin’ baby in me.”

Bucky laughs roughly against his throat, both arms wrapping tightly around Tony and grinding into him hard. “Fuck yeah doll, gonna fill you up so good, knock you right up.”

“Ohh fuck,” Tony moans, shaking as Bucky continues to rub against his prostate mercilessly and it sends shock after shock of agonizing pleasure up Tony’s spine, “c’mon, give it to me.”

“Shit,” Bucky gasps, then sinks his teeth into Tony’s shoulder and comes with a low groan, shelves rattling again as he shoves into Tony hard, comes inside him with several hot pulses that have Tony shaking and whimpering all over again.

“Fuck,” Tony says eloquently, finally going limp in Bucky’s hold and letting his head thumping back against the nearly cleared off shelves as he tries to catch his breath and let his heart rate slow back to something a little more reasonable.

When he forces his eyes open Bucky is right there, smiling at him warm and fond and Tony doesn’t know how he’s just now recognizing all the love in that expression. He really hopes Bucky can see it on his face too, because Tony doesn’t have the breath or brain power to try and put it into words right now. Bucky must get it though, because he smiles wider and cups Tony's cheek again, kisses him soft and sweet like they have all the time in the world. He doesn't seem to be in any hurry to actually set Tony back down and Tony is not complaining. Mostly because he can't quite feel his legs. Partially also because he’s still enjoying the feeling of Bucky buried deep inside him.

They break away from the kiss slowly, still sharing the same air, right up until Bucky shifts his weight and something crunches loudly beneath his foot. Tony giggles, which quickly turns into a pained groan when his head thumps back against the shelves, and then a happy groan when Bucky laughs and it shifts his half-hard cock inside Tony, messy and amazing.

“Can’t believe we finally did that,” Bucky says with another soft huff of laughter, nudging his nose against Tony’s with a goofy grin that Tony can now absolutely admit makes him go all soft and wobbly.

"Neither can I!" Comes a muffled shout from the other side of the door, and Bucky’s metal arm tightens around Tony’s waist as they both jump slightly. Then they’re both laughing, nearly drowning out the sounds of Steve’s All-American Offense as he basically screams “we can all hear you in there!!”

“In front of literally all of our food?! Really?!” That would be Clint’s voice chiming in, and Tony has to tuck his face down against Bucky’s shoulder to try and smother his combination of laughter and breathy gasps.

He can feel Bucky’s come starting to leak out of him, and he tightens his thighs around Bucky’s waist in an attempt to pull him closer. And they’d been having such a nice moment before the assholes arrived. Tony figures the least he can do is talk some shit. “Hate to break it to you puritans,” Tony calls, lifting his head again, “but this is far from the worst thing I’ve ever done.”

“That’s what I told them,” comes Rhodey’s voice, and he does in fact sound unphased. Thank god for college friendships. “Please at least put your pants back on before you come out of there, I know how you are.”

“I just want my Oreos,” comes another voice, and that would be Natasha, and Tony winces because Natasha’s special peanut butter Oreos are definitely one of the things on the ground.

“We were here first,” Bucky points out, voice still low and rumbly in a way that is giving Tony ideas.

”It’s the communal kitchen!” Steve shrieks, and if he doesn’t calm down soon his poor old heart might just give out on him.

Tony laughs, only wincing a little when he hits his head again. “Oh, I’m sorry,” he calls gleefully, “did the community want to get in here then, get in on this?”

“Fuck no,” Bucky snarls against Tony’ throat, arms tightening around him and Tony would swear he can even hear the low grumble of a growl escaping Bucky’s chest.

“Oh ho ho, possessive,” Tony says, delighted, running his fingers through Bucky’s hair and tugging slightly, “I can work with that.”

“Give you somethin’ to work with,” Bucky grumbles and Tony can feel his smirk as Bucky rolls his hips, cock sliding through the slick mess of his come, teasing over Tony’s over-sensitive prostate and almost fully hard again.

“Fuck- yes,” Tony gasps and he’s not sure Bucky even actually went soft, and they are going to have so much fun. “Want it- want you to fuck me so full I can’t move with it- Bucky-“

“Anything you want,” Bucky promises, kisses him again and thrusts his hips forward, presses Tony back into the shelves with a slick, obscene sound and swallows down Tony’s shaking groan.

On the other side of the pantry door, Rhodey shakes his head and says “we should just leave.”

“But-“ Steve starts, only to be cut off by a loud moan that he could have gone his whole life without hearing.

With one last look at each other, everyone scrambles to get out of the kitchen as fast as they possibly can. Steve is going to make them run so many drills for this.

#buckytony #starkbucks #winteriron #crackfic #okay slight apologies #but they WOULD make pretty babies okay #fanfic

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lady-divine-writes · 4 years

Text

A Change in the Weather AU (inspired by Cacophonylights's A Change in the Weather) - Chapter 30

Read on AO3.

(Author’s note - the above cover gives hint about this chapter, and chapter 31 :D)

Kurt appreciates drama.

He appreciates it to a degree rivaled only by his dad’s love of NASCAR and Finn’s obsession with grilled cheese sandwiches.

It might even be said, by a select few, that he possesses a flair for the dramatic.

Kurt isn’t, however, a fan of the fact that drama seems to follow him wherever he goes, comes courtesy of big ticket items, and hangs over his head like a sword held aloft by a single thread of red rope licorice.

That he doesn’t appreciate.

The drama Kurt does enjoy happens to be genre-specific, goes hand-in-hand with sweeping, over-the-top, romantic gestures, and maybe a dance number or two.

Like the situation he’s currently in, preparing to perch atop a magnificent red roan mare. Kurt has never been up close and personal with a horse before. The first thing he notices is they’re so much taller - and wider - in real life than they seem on screen. He also didn’t know he’d have to be introduced to his horse before he could mount it (though when you use a word like mount, the need for an introduction makes sense).

Their groom teaches Kurt how to brush his mare’s mane (which he is determined to braid somewhere along the way, get it out of her eyes). Then he earns her favor by feeding her sugar cubes. She plucks them one by one from his outstretched palm, and Kurt falls instantly in love.

If his future as a Broadway phenom ever hits the skids, equestrian sports are beginning to look like an acceptable replacement.

But there is a problem.

Everything about potentially riding this horse terrifies him.

Sebastian rented the horses from a stable nearby, one the Smythe family frequents whenever they’re in town. The horses don’t belong to the Smythes, but according to the man who saddled them, they might as well, as Sebastian’s family reserves the exact same beasts every summer.

Sebastian mounts his own mare with the skill of an accomplished equestrian because of course he does. Kurt, on the other hand, requires the assistance of two bubbly blond stable hands (who remind him enough of Brittany and Sam that he has to do a double take) and a large wooden block. Sebastian watches the calamity go down from his own saddle with intense interest and a twinkle in his eye. Between trying to maintain balance and not roll his ankle, Kurt spots Sebastian sporting his signature smirk and braces for the taunts guaranteed to come, which he plans to volley with comebacks he’s already preparing in his head. But when Kurt finally finds his seat, Sebastian gives him a smile that appears to have nothing devious hiding behind it.

“All set?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Kurt manages, panting from the exertion of pulling himself up and throwing a leg over, doing both so enthusiastically he nearly propelled himself clear over the other side of his horse. “All set.”

“Everyone’s first time goes like that,” Sebastian reassures him with a dismissive wave and only a sliver of innuendo.

“Even Julian’s?” Kurt asks bitterly, his ego stinging. He imagines the older Smythe boy launching himself onto a stallion’s muscular back from the ground using only the saddle horn to boost him up, then galloping off into the sunset, leaving the rest of his family in the dust.

But Sebastian dashes that image with a nod. “Yup. Julian excels at a great many things. But for some reason, horseback riding isn’t one of them.”

“A-ha. Somehow I don’t believe you.”

“I’ve got no reason to lie, babe. And besides - I have videos.” Sebastian bounces his eyebrows, apparently relishing the fact. “Lots of them.”

Kurt’s left eyebrow bobs up. “So you gather blackmail material on your brother, too?”

“I don’t see why you’d assume he’d be immune.” Sebastian’s horse, itching to get on the trail, shifts her weight underneath him. He strokes her neck, shushing her to keep her still. It’s such an endearing gesture, so unlike the Sebastian Kurt once despised … but so much like the Sebastian he’s grown to love. “It’s tit for tat, really. Lord knows he’s got tons of stuff on me. I’ve got stuff on Liv, too, but I’m smarter than to use it.”

“Why’s that?”

Sebastian barks out a laugh that, underneath the surface, is laced with genuine fear. “Are you kidding? She’d murder me in my sleep!”

“Then why have it?”

“As leverage against Julian.”

“And that works how exactly?”

“If I let something I have on Livvie slip but I can convince her that Julian is responsible …” Sebastian sucks a breath in through his teeth, his eyes going distant, like he’s imagining the outcome of such an act, the gruesome devastation that would ensue. “But I’d only do that as a last resort. Julian would have to do something particularly heinous for me to go that far.”

Kurt shakes his head disapprovingly. Poor Olivia. Kurt wonders if she knows that she’s Sebastian’s nuclear option. Sebastian and Julian must be rubbing off on Kurt more than he knows because he also wonders how much that information might be worth. “Oh what a twisted life you lead. You are truly a criminal mastermind.”

“You know it,” Sebastian says, throwing Kurt a wink. He clicks his tongue and leads his horse away, Kurt’s mare following behind as if she knew that was the plan all along.

Sebastian takes them to a rise overlooking the beach, the trail to get there narrower than Kurt likes. He’s sure his horse knows what she’s doing. This isn’t her first time walking this trail, after all. But again, Kurt’s mare is a big animal, and she lists from side to side. This trail, flush up against the cliff side, is one Kurt would think twice about taking on foot before calling it quits, doing an about face, and going off in search of the nearest coffee shop. Since there are no seat belts, the only thing keeping him from sliding off and falling to his death is the strength of his thighs.

Kurt thought his thighs were strong. Only now does he see that cutting the 30 Minute Buns and Thighs video he used to do religiously from his cardio rotation was a huge mistake.

Fear for his life aside, the view from the overlook is spectacular, but the height vomit inducing. Kurt leans forward, barely budging in his saddle to peek over the edge, and his stomach lurches up into his throat.

He has to trust his horse. She wouldn’t go running off this cliff for no reason. She wouldn’t do anything to hurt herself. But what about him? Would she buck him off? What motivation would she have to do so? Horses, like dogs, can sense the good in people, can’t they? Not just the shallow good like, “I put a dollar in a Salvation Army bucket once,” but the deep down, selfless good. Kurt isn’t a bad person, but he can be a bit inconsiderate at times, especially with wait staff.

If this horse decides to judge him, his inability to stop snapping at waiters will be the hill he ends up dying on, he just knows it.

The path takes his mare nauseatingly close to the edge for a brief second, and Kurt bites his tongue to keep from screaming.

“Whoa, Nellie,” he says in a wobbly voice, pulling up beside Sebastian’s mare, stopped on a ledge wide enough to accommodate both animals … and the two of them should Kurt decide to crawl off his horse, lay flat on his stomach, and hug the ground.

Sebastian, watching Kurt’s silent crisis run its course, points out, “You do know your horse’s name is Desiree, right?”

“I do. And by the way, I have questions about that. But whoa, Desiree doesn’t have the same ring to it.”

Sebastian shrugs. “You’re not wrong.”

“So,” Kurt starts, swallowing half a dozen times to stop his voice from shaking, “does your exceptional riding proclivity qualify you as a ‘horse boy’ then?”

Sebastian chuckles. “No. No, Livvie is the horse person in our family. Always has been”

“That’s right,” Kurt says, wrapping the reins around his hand for security so tightly he’s afraid his fingers might turn purple. “She got the pony.”

“Mm-hmm. Pony, private riding lessons, the whole bit. The trails around the beach are perfect for horseback riding. So when we’d come out here, my dad and mom would take her, and Julian and I were forced to tag along. To teach us important life lessons, they said. I think they just didn’t want to leave us alone, afraid of the trouble we’d get into unsupervised. Needless to say, Molly here and I have a special relationship.”

Kurt eyes Sebastian coyly through lowered lashes. “Should I be jealous?”

Sebastian eyes him back, wearing a way-too-suggestive smile considering the subject matter. “Tremendously.”

“I’ve always wanted to learn to ride a horse,” Kurt admits. “I think a lot of kids do.”

“Did you picture yourself as Liz Taylor in National Velvet? Or Robert Redford in The Electric Horseman?”

“More like Viggo Mortensen in Hidalgo.”

Sebastian gives that some thought before commenting, green eyes aimed at the sky, peering at strings of clouds overhead. “I can see that. I think you’d look rather distinguished in a Stetson Diamante.”

“I’ve always thought so,” Kurt says, pulling himself up in his stirrups, a proud expression on his face.

Sebastian’s eyes, tracing the clouds, find the ocean, stare off into the sunset as the tide rolls up the sand. “Julian teased her endlessly for it.”

“Julian did?” Kurt asks with a dubious tilt of his head.

“Yup. Just Jules. I didn’t.”

“Why not?” It sounds like an odd question after Kurt asks it, grilling his boyfriend to find out why he didn’t cut down his older sister over one of her favorite hobbies.

“I envied her her love of riding,” Sebastian replies without turning to look Kurt’s way, the way Kurt had expected. “You know, when kids ask their parents for a pony, it’s usually because they think it’s going to be fun and exciting, make them look cool, turn them into a superhero or something. Not her. She loved riding for the sake of riding and for no other reason. She loved horses simply because she wanted to take care of a horse, even before she ever sat on one … or so my parents tell me.” He looks at the reins pooled in his hands, the horse’s mane beneath them chocolate brown, close to the shade of his own hair. Sebastian sniffs … or Kurt thinks he does. He only sees the subtle movement, doesn’t hear from where he and his horse are standing. “I don’t think I’ve ever loved anything that way.”

Kurt nudges his horse closer, feeling too far away with the few feet of space between them. “Not even your car?”

“Oh, well, cut me to the quick, I guess.” Sebastian throws his head back and laughs. This time Kurt definitely hears him sniffle, sees him wipe a tear from his cheek with the back of his hand. But there must only be the one because when he turns to look at Kurt, his cheeks are dry. “No, Olivia is special. When you take riding lessons, the first thing your instructor tells you is that riding is less about getting on a horse’s back and flying down the straightaway and more about taking care of something other than yourself. You put your horse first at all times. Its comfort is paramount.” Sebastian looks back at the ocean, clears a catch from his throat. “To ride a horse is to put your trust in someone else, and have someone else trust you back. Whatever you do, you do to bring out the best in the animal you choose to ride. If you hate horses, you’re going to be a lousy horse person. Olivia doesn’t see things the way they are,” he says after a pause. “She sees things the way they could be. People, too. Always finding the best in everyone. She’s not a cynic like me and my brother. She inherited the lion’s share of my parents’ optimism and goodwill. She didn’t leave any for the rest of us. And she knows what she wants, has since she was little. She launches into life with both feet. So does Julian, though, in his case, he doesn’t always land on them.”

“What about you?”

A hint of the cynicism Sebastian mentioned comes to rest in the corners of his mouth, pushing it into a half-grin. “I’m not quite as brave as they are.”

“I think you are.”

“Reckless isn’t the same as brave, babe.”

“I think it depends on how you look at it, on how you define reckless. But you have so many opportunities available to you. And a built in safety net. You can afford to be reckless.”

Sebastian chews his lower lip, seems to contemplate his next words carefully. “Because I have money, right?”

“Right,” Kurt answers quickly, then suddenly feels like he’s taken a wrong turn down a one-way street.

“Money doesn’t help when you don’t have a path.”

“Yes it does!” Kurt says, wondering why it is that Sebastian doesn’t see his wealth as a boon when it’s as clear as day to Kurt. Enjoy all the things his wealth can buy him. Sebastian had repeated that sentiment last night when they were talking about Kurt going to NYADA, and taking that $10,000 check so he could get there. Which proves that wealth can definitely buy a future. A good one, even if Sebastian might be on the fence about which way to go. “It can help you build your own path. It can build you a dozen paths!”

“But where would they lead?” It’s a rhetorical question, but one that sounds like he’s pleading with Kurt to give him an answer. Not in general terms, but a specific destination. “If I don’t know which direction I want to go, what good does a path do me?”

“It gets you started going somewhere! Anywhere!”

“And what’s wrong with staying where you are when you don’t know where to go?” Sebastian asks, his voice so thick under the weight of his emotions, it cracks. This isn’t just a friendly discussion they’re having anymore, Kurt realizes. This is something else. Something Kurt doesn’t fully understand. “Isn’t that what they teach you in wilderness survival? Stay where you are until someone finds you? Hug a tree and shit?”

That remark strikes Kurt as so absurd considering the context of their conversation, he almost bursts out laughing. “Do I look like I would know the answer to a wilderness survival question?” But then that context becomes clearer, and Sebastian’s remark even more absurd. Wait … is he thinking about … staying in Ohio!?!?

“Do you think money solves everything, Kurt? Do you think those rich people on the Titanic could buy their way off that sinking ship?”

“They kinda did,” Kurt says sheepishly, face scrunching apologetically knowing that’s not the answer Sebastian wants to hear. “They were the only ones allowed on the lifeboats, so …

“Yeah. Right. Okay,” Sebastian says, each word clipped within an inch of its life. He turns away in frustration, focusing on the sunset as if he has to watch every last minute of it or suffer dire consequences.

“But you’re not on a sinking ship,” Kurt continues, watching his step with every word. “You can literally choose any direction and go. You wouldn’t have to know what’s there or even have a reason why. Just pack a bag and start walking.”

“You make it sound so simple,” Sebastian mutters grimly, followed by something else Kurt doesn’t catch, although he does hear the words know what you want to do.

“It sounds to me like you’re making excuses,” Kurt counters but not unkindly, “and I don’t know what for. To tell you the truth, I feel like I’ve entered an argument already in progress.”

Sebastian bristles, his back going rigid. Kurt holds his breath, unsure what he’s about to do. Would he turn his horse around and leave without a word, abandon Kurt there on the top of this rise in the dark?

No. Kurt is confident he wouldn’t. Sebastian isn’t that person. Not anymore. He wouldn’t do that.

Besides, Kurt’s mare would simply follow his. He’s really in no danger unless Sebastian comes up to him and shoves him off his horse.

Kurt isn’t convinced his thighs would protect him.

Kurt’s words seem to take the steam out of Sebastian. When he turns around to face Kurt, he looks tired. Worn down. “I’m sorry. Kurt. I’m not trying to start a fight. And don’t think I don’t understand where you’re coming from. I do. I really do. Maybe not from first hand experience but I get it. And you’re absolutely right. When you don’t have money, when you have to worry about where your next meal is coming from or how you’re going to pay your rent, it sucks. Money greases so many wheels, can take you to so many places. I’m fortunate. So fucking fortunate. But there’s something to be said about having an identity that doesn’t revolve around money.”

“I don’t … I don’t think I understand.” Kurt says it, but then he realizes that’s not entirely true. On some level, he does. For a good portion of his high school career, he had to contend with being known as the one out-and-proud gay kid. To most people, it was his sole descriptor. But there’s so much more to him.

Just like there’s so much about Sebastian’s situation that Kurt doesn’t understand.

“No matter where I am, if I’ve been there longer than a week and you ask someone about me, ask them to describe who I am, they’ll tell you I’m some rich douche. That’s it. That’s what I am. That’s who I was at Dalton. It doesn’t matter that I was a straight A student, 5.0 GPA, on the lacrosse team, that I was a Warbler, or any of that. I’m an asshole and I have money. That’s it. That’s my identity. But not you,” Sebastian says, his voice becoming hard and soft at the same time. “You’re Kurt Hummel. You’re a trail blazer. You’re compassionate and brave and talented ...”

“Who told you that?” Kurt interjects, squashing uncomfortable laughter with disbelief.

“Blaine for one,” Sebastian admits, though from his expression, he would rather pry up his fingernails than say that name. “The Warblers, your friends at that public school you went to, your teacher Will Schuester, your father, your stepmother, Finn and Puck. You do your own thing no matter what other people say. And even if they knock you down, you stick up for them. You ran for student body president on a platform of stopping bullying. I would never do that!”

“You don’t want to stop bullying?” Kurt asks, appalled enough to overlook the fact that Sebastian knows any of that. But when Sebastian shoots him a You have got to be kidding me! look, Kurt is immediately confronted with the reality of who he’s talking to. Sebastian was a bully! He blackmailed and schemed. He photoshopped vulgar pictures of Kurt’s stepbrother, and tried to steal his boyfriend. He’s only recently redeemed himself for any of that. There are people who would still consider him a bully - Kurt’s friends, people he loves - who haven’t had the opportunity Kurt has to get to know him.

But it’s also an unfair question. From what Kurt has learned, Sebastian wasn’t always that way. The person he was while he was at Dalton - that person was created, and by someone other than himself.

“I would never run for student body president in the first place!” Sebastian yells. “I don’t care about other people’s problems! I can’t be bothered! If I went to your school God forbid and people bullied me, I wouldn’t want to help them! I’d want to watch the place burn to the ground!”

“That … that’s not true!”

Sebastian leans towards him threateningly. But not threatening to hurt him. Threatening to make him see the truth. “Isn’t it!?”

“I …” Kurt puts a hand to his head and closes his eyes. Sebastian’s words pound in his brain. They connect a bunch of dots, but they also leave other sections of the overall picture blank. “I’m sorry, I … I don’t know what’s going on. We’ve gone from horses to your sister to student body president to arson and I … I think … I may have missed the point somewhere.”

“The point I’ve been trying to make,” Sebastian says slowly, bringing his mare closer to Kurt’s, “and very badly is that money is a wonderful thing to have. But it shouldn’t be your identity. You need to be something more. Money will never make you a whole person if you can’t be one without it.”

Kurt nods, relieved to have it summed up so nicely before either one of them accidentally says something they’ll both regret. With his own deadline of NYADA looming, Kurt forgot that Sebastian said he hasn’t chosen a college yet. What if that’s not the entire story?

What if he doesn’t know what he wants to do with the rest of his life? And what if that scares him?

“Okay,” Kurt says, accepting Sebastian’s hand when it finds his. “I … I think I get it. That makes sense.”

“I’m glad. Because believe it or don’t, I didn’t bring you up here to start an argument. I just wanted to watch the sun set. Show you one of my favorite thinking spots. To be honest …” Sebastian shakes his head “… I don’t know where half of that came from.”

Kurt gives Sebastian’s hand a comforting squeeze. He hopes that Sebastian might be willing to bring this subject up again at the beach house when they’re both a little more level-headed, better equipped to handle it. “Where would you say you fall on that spectrum? Between being whole and being not?”

“I’d have to say I’m extensively ventilated …” Sebastian brings Kurt’s hand to his mouth for a kiss, disarming smile locked back in place. “But on the mend.”

Kurt watches Sebastian run his thumb over his knuckles, hesitant to give his hand back, even with the darkness settling in around them. “You know,” Kurt says, “this picture you’re painting of who you are … if I wasn’t here, seeing it for myself, I don’t think I would ever believe any of this about you.”

Sebastian frowns, looks like he’s about to rush to his own defense, but he stops. “I guess I didn’t really give you the chance to find out for yourself.”

“Why isn’t this the foot you put forward all the time?”

“Because … I don’t like being vulnerable with people.”

“You don’t have to be vulnerable. But nice would be …” Kurt searches his head for the perfect word, but only comes up with “… nice. You know what they say - more flies with honey and all that.”

Sebastian sputters. “There you go again with those archaic expressions! Who on earth wants to be surrounded by flies? Being this version of me is too much work for too little pay off most of the time. For what I usually want, my methods get me results quicker.”

“So … what does that say about me?” Kurt asks. “You and I have been at this for months. And it’s not as if I rolled over for you the first chance I got.”

Sebastian tugs Kurt’s hand, brings him close enough to give him the whisper of a kiss against his cheek. “That says you’re worth the effort.”

***

It’s been well over a week since the Smythes descended on the beach house, and as much fun as it is having them there, Kurt is steadily becoming paranoid. He wouldn’t have had Olivia not made that remark about keeping an eye out for her mother. Now he’s convinced that every look Charlotte tosses his way holds significance.

A silent warning.

That she knows about him and Sebastian, and that the two of them are royally screwed - Sebastian more so than he, of course. Only she’s too nice to shred him to pieces in front of the family, so she’s waiting to do it in private.

He won’t know for certain until she corners him and they talk.

So he does the mature thing.

He avoids being alone with her at all costs.

He doesn’t hide behind curtains or vault over furniture when he sees her approach. He simply makes certain he’s never by himself for longer than a few minutes. That amounts to trips to the bathroom and any time he needs to change clothes, which (and he’s not proud of this) he’s done twice as an excuse not to talk to her. With Sebastian’s new found need to be with Kurt every conceivable second, that takes care of every time else. Still, in the confines of the beach house, Kurt knows it’s impossible to dodge Charlotte forever. He just hopes he can figure out what he’s going to say when the time comes, how he’s going to defend his and Sebastian’s actions.

How he’s going to make being a boyfriend-for-hire in order to deceive her in specific sound not so bad.

Sitting on Sebastian’s lap on the porch swing, Kurt’s favorite place in the house to be hands down, he’s finding it difficult to relax. Even though she’s nowhere where she can see them, Kurt feels her eyes on him. Several times he pops his head up and scans the beach to see if she’s walking along the shore, but no. She’s not there.

This is all in his head. He knows it. He’s building it up to something bigger than it needs to be. But if he doesn’t deal with things soon, he’s going to give himself a nervous condition.

“Hey, babe. I have to run to the bathroom,” Sebastian says, sliding his hands underneath Kurt’s rear and relocating him to the far side of the swing.

“O-okay,” Kurt says, a knot starting in his stomach, like a stop watch zeroing out before a tie-breaker race. “Don’t take too long.”

“Yeah, alright. I … won’t,” Sebastian says, giving Kurt an odd look before heading towards the door to his room. Kurt watches him go, crossing every finger on both hands and his toes in his socks, praying Sebastian returns before Charlotte discovers he’s alone and swoops in. Kurt doesn’t see her, hasn’t seen her for most of the day actually. He’d be hard pressed to say whether or not she’s even there.

Kurt and Sebastian ate dinner on the porch, intend on sleeping out there, too, in the tent still set up in the far corner. Did he see her before dinner? Or did Greg take her out to eat? They’d been discussing an Italian place not too far from the beach. They could be there, enjoying a romantic evening alone, with not a single thought to the deceptive practices of her son and his boyfriend. Or did she go shopping with Olivia? Olivia mentioned wanting to hit Yankee Candle for apple pie scented wax melts after stumbling across one of Kurt and Sebastian’s vanilla scented votives. That’s a possibility.

Unfortunately, there’s only one way for him to inconspicuously check. He’d have to go inside and take a peek for himself. If he texts Olivia, he runs the risk of her coming out to ask him what’s up with her mother in tow.

Kurt gets so wrapped up in thinking about where Charlotte could be that he misses her sweeping through the door right as Sebastian leaves, stopping her son to give him a kiss on the cheek.

“Hey, Kurt!” she says brightly, striding across the porch toward him, wrapped in the coziest looking, camel-colored, cashmere duster. He’s been looking for one just like it - not super chunky the way knitted dusters tend to be. This one looks soft, and clingy in all the right places. And that color - super complementary. Once she’s done verbally disemboweling him, he’ll have to ask her where she got it. “I was hoping I’d get you alone! You and my son seem to be locked together at the hip lately! I’d need a crowbar to separate you two!”

“That seems to be the consensus,” Kurt says, banishing the image of sweet matriarch Charlotte Smythe wielding a crowbar. He shouldn’t be this nervous around her. She’s never given him reason to be. She treats him like he’s part of the family. Besides, Sebastian and Julian both agree that Olivia is the scary one. Not their mother.

Then again, where do they think Olivia gets it from?

“That’s not a bad thing. I remember being your age, locked at the hip with my boyfriend,” she reveals, a speck of wickedness coloring her smile. “But as much as I adore my son, I was hoping I could talk to you - one on one.”

Kurt’s stomach flip-flops the way it did during his NYADA audition. The only difference is, at his audition, he had a pair of gold pants to give him strength. He loves borrowing Sebastian’s Ralph Lauren lounge pants, but it’s not the same. “Absolutely. What’s on your mind?”

“Well, I feel like you may be avoiding me … just a little,” she says, bringing a hand up, putting her thumb and forefinger together for emphasis.

“Oh, uh … no. No I haven’t. Not … consciously,” he fibs, but she stares him down. Even if she doesn’t know about him and Sebastian pretending to be boyfriends, she knows that Kurt has been lying about something. Charlotte is an intelligent woman. Kurt is not about to disrespect her. “I’m sorry if it seems that way. That wasn’t my intention.”

She stays silent a moment longer, scrutinizing him the same way Carole does him and Finn when her motherly instincts tell her not to trust them. And Carole’s instincts are pretty much consistently on the nose. But Charlotte may not feel comfortable scolding her son’s boyfriend.

She may have decided to let the guilt eat Kurt away for her.

“Sebastian says you have quite a fondness for this old swing,” she says. “But before you came along, he’d never come out here. Ever. You would think he was afraid of heights or something the way he avoided it, and my son is definitely not afraid of heights. In fact, if someone were to ask me what Sebastian is afraid of, I’d have to say there isn’t a thing … except losing you. And your good opinion of him.”

Kurt goes temporarily speechless. He wants to say he knew that, but he can’t. Because he didn’t. “Really?”

“A-ha. So imagine my surprise when I found out that the two of you weren’t actually an item.”

Kurt’s eyes pop open. He hopes he looks stunned, hurt, maybe even a little too scandalized for words. But he knows he’s not that good an actor. Not yet. Give him a couple of semesters, maybe a year abroad …

But right now, he probably looks exactly the way he feels.

Busted.

“That’s … that’s not …” Kurt tries, but he can’t get the rest of the words out. They physically refuse to leave his tongue.

“It’s not what?” Charlotte asks in that stern way mothers do when weeding out the truth.

When they know for a fact that they’re being duped.

“You’re … you’re right.” Those words are a bit harder to say but at least they come out. “We weren’t a couple. B-but we are now,” he adds, praying that makes everything right, that he didn’t inadvertently toss Sebastian under the bus and lose him everything.

“As of …?” she presses.

Oh God, Kurt thinks, losing the feeling in his entire body. Even his tongue goes numb. Nope. He didn’t lose Sebastian everything before. But he may right now. God, he wishes he’d thought to talk to Sebastian about this! Gotten some sort of story straight. “A…after the gala?” More like after they got to North Carolina, but Kurt is not about to split hairs.

Charlotte, who had been sitting with her legs crossed, an elbow resting comfortably on one knee and her chin cradled in the palm of her hand, straightens in surprise.

Oh no! Kurt panics, knowing by the look in her eyes that she’s putting two and two together, time lines readjusting, figuring out just how long they haven’t been a couple.

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry for lying to you! It’s … it’s all my fault!” he says, hoping that if he keeps her attention locked on himself, that if he can somehow spin it so he’s the perpetrator here and not Sebastian, she’ll forget that they were going to empty out his bank account and take back his tuition money. They can’t do that! Not after what Sebastian told him today! Not after everything he might be afraid of! “Are you angry? Disappointed? I’ll make it up to you somehow! I swear!”

“Calm down, dear.” She has an exquisite poker face. Kurt has to give her that. He doesn’t have a clue what she’s thinking. But the parts of her expression that aren’t blank are slightly sad. “I’m not disappointed. Or angry.”

“If you don’t mind my asking,” Kurt says, feeling like he’s walking on eggshells made of plate glass and battery acid, “how did you figure us out?”

Charlotte smirks. “Well, whether they like it or not, I know my children. And to be honest, because he’s my youngest, I probably know Sebastian best of all. Which is how I know this arrangement the two of you had …” She wiggles her forefinger between Kurt and an invisible placeholder that represents Sebastian “… whatever it entailed, wasn’t your idea. But I can appreciate you throwing yourself on that grenade, and don’t think I don’t know why.” Kurt is about to launch into a new line of disagreeing, but Charlotte sighs uncomfortably, and that makes him hold back. “Kurt, I’ve walked in on my son mid-coitus more times than any mother should, and what I saw when I walked in on the two of you … that wasn’t Sebastian. Not the one I’ve seen torturing himself with different sexual partners for years. The giggling, the smiling - that was different. It was honest. It’s what I’ve wanted for him for longer than I can tell you. And I was so happy to see it. But in a way, because of that, I knew it wasn’t real.”

“But … why didn’t you say something earlier?”

“Because of all the boys my son knows, he chose you. So he had to have a reason. And aside from that, I like you, Kurt. My husband husband likes you. We think that you’re good for our son. So I thought that, given enough time, what you two were pretending to be might become real.” Charlotte smiles. “As it turns out, it did.”

“Yes, it did,” Kurt agrees shyly.

“And I don’t want you to worry. Sebastian is safe. And that’s not contingent on you or on anything the two of you do. Gregory and I, we both bear some responsibility for Sebastian hatching this little scheme. Ultimatums don’t always work the way you intend them to.” That should sound like she’s admitting defeat, but the wink she gives Kurt admits anything but. “Just make sure you get what he promised you.”

“I did,” Kurt assures her. “It and a lot more.”

“Good,” she says. “Very good. You know, being a parent, you raise your kids the best way you know how, in the hopes that they grow into adults that can make good decisions on their own. I may not agree with all of the decisions my children have made, but they are their decisions to make. I can’t micromanage their lives. I have to trust them.”

“I think my dad would agree with you,” Kurt says, thinking back on all the times his father stressed that Kurt was an adult, that he’d be out of the house soon, and that his decisions were his own. And as much as Kurt appreciated the sentiment, the look in his father’s eye when he said it, one he probably thought he was covering so well, gutted him.

“Your father is a good man,” Charlotte says, giving Kurt’s hand a pat. “And from what I can see, he did a wonderful job raising you.”

“Thank you,” Kurt says, feeling way more at ease now than he did when this conversation started. “For what it’s worth, I think you guys did an amazing job as parents, too.”

Charlotte’s smile dips, wobbles at the corners, and Kurt wonders if he said something wrong. She sits back in the swing, turns her head slightly away. She gazes down the beach, the same way Sebastian does when he thinks about something sad, watching the water rush in to meet the shore, then out to join the waves. “Thank you, Kurt,” she says finally. “That does mean a lot.”

***

Julian’s demeanor has been changing in increments.

Kurt thinks he may be the only one who notices since he’s spent time alone with every member of the Smythe family and no one else has mentioned it. But Julian has become sullen.

Downright sulky.

He hasn’t gotten on Sebastian’s case recently half as much as when he got there, hasn’t flirted with Kurt in the past few days other than to tell him he looks good wearing his clothes (a black Henley Kurt thought was Sebastian’s, which had found itself in Sebastian’s room due to an unfortunate dry cleaning mishap).

The change started about the same time Kurt began to notice that the long phone conversations Julian had been having with Cooper - the ones that started in the family room or in the kitchen after dinner but eventually sent Julian outside searching for privacy - seemed to happen less and less, and with no estimated time of Cooper’s arrival in sight. Kurt reminds himself that Julian and Cooper’s relationship has always been a volatile one, so maybe this is just the way things go between them.

But it’s still heartbreaking.

Julian seemed so happy when he first arrived, first told them about Cooper spending the summer with him, and now ...

Kurt hopes that their flame hasn’t burned out so quickly, the way he feared his with Sebastian would, the thrill of the chase gone, the shine of the taboo beginning to take on a matte finish.

“Hey, gorgeous,” Julian says, catching Kurt off guard and staring as he makes his way up to their towels spread out on the beach. Kurt wasn’t staring at Julian, even though he’d been looking in the man’s direction. He was just staring, lost in his own thoughts. But he’ll never convince Julian of that. “Why don’t you take a picture? It lasts longer. In fact, I have a few I can text you, save you the trouble. They’re organized by various states of undress …”

“That’s a surefire way to end up with a broken screen,” Olivia says while Sebastian scoots his towel over, scoops up his boyfriend.

“Happen to have any of you in a Franciscan robe?” Kurt counters. “Maybe even a kaftan?”

Julian smirks, and even though it makes him look as handsome as ever, it doesn’t brighten his face, doesn’t reach his eyes. “You know, I might.”

“I wouldn’t put it past him,” Olivia snickers, “so be careful what you ask for. Even if he does, nothing says it’ll be PG.”

“Speaking of, what are you two gentlemen doing tomorrow night?” he asks. “I mean, between the sex, sex, and more sex.”

“Have they been having a lot of sex?” Olivia asks offhandedly while she scrolls through her phone.

“As far as I can tell. I don’t know one hundred percent. They haven’t invited me to join in.”

“We don’t have any hard and fast plans,” Sebastian says, diverting the topic of conversation away from his and Kurt’s sex life. “Why do you ask? And before you say anything, threesomes are out.”

“Airiel Down is playing at Red Hat,” Julian says, reaching into the pocket of his shorts for his phone. “I got two tickets. I was going to take Cooper, but he hasn’t …” Julian’s voice waffles, goes minutely hoarse.

Olivia’s eyes dart his way.

No. That didn’t go unnoticed, Kurt thinks when her gaze shifts to Sebastian, and then Sebastian looks at Kurt. All three of them had heard the same thing.

“Anyway, anyway,” Julian says, pushing past it, “no reason for them to go to waste.”

“Are you sure? I mean, you could still go. Scalp the other ticket,” Sebastian suggests, but from the tone of his voice, it sounds like he’s asking another question entirely.

“I’m sure, little bro. No worries.” Julian chuckles, but it’s as dry as the sand they’re sitting on. They watch in silence as Julian types out a text and attaches the electronic tickets. A second later, Sebastian’s phone in his pocket beeps. “Your boyfriend here needs a night out, and exposure to some of our fine North Carolina culture.” Julian grins. For a moment, he’s closer to normal than he’s been in days. “Besides, you two need to give that beautiful ass of his a break.”

#acitw #acitw au #kurtbastian #sekurt

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batarangtotheheart · 5 years

Text

Different (Batmom x Jason Todd)

SURPRISE, BITCHES. Bet you thought you’d seen the last of me, but nope!

Pt. II to Blood

Summary: Batmom is Bruce’s new girlfriend. After a while, she got Dick and Damian to like her. Now she tackles Bruce’s mysterious and angry son, Jason.

Warnings: references to death, swearing

It had been a month since the auction and Damian had started to warm up to you. In fact, all of his kids had. Or at least, the kids you’d met. Apparently Bruce has many, many more kids and you grew exhausted at the thought of trying to get them all to like you. Of course, you'd spend countless hours trying to make them accept and maybe even like you, but perhaps one at a time.

One kid you were particularly excited to meet was Jason.

Of course, he was the most unruly and quote, unquote “ruder than Damian” but you just smiled through the fear and anxiety at the thought of someone being ruder than the kid who called you a harlot within five minutes of your meeting.

“Dick, honey, I don’t think you have to worry. I don’t know about Bruce’s plans but I plan on being here for you kids while we are still together. I mean, even Damian warmed up to me.”

Truth be told, every kid Bruce had was basically an orphan before Bruce took them in. Nobody had a purely positive figure in their life, especially not one of a mother. They all searched for that figure in their own way and the smallest part of you believed that maybe you could fill that void in them. Dick smiled at your words and nodded before coming closer to hug you.

Out of all the kids, Dick was the nicest and warmest. He was also the easiest to get to know and to accept you. You definitely wouldn’t say you filled any such void within the poor guy, and you might not ever. But he tries to be open and welcoming to you and you had to admit that you were starting to bond with him. He was definitely the most dependent. You came to enjoy his ‘emergency’ calls when he needs help learning how to properly do laundry at 2 AM because he spilled ketchup on his Nightwing onesie. You came to know him as the biggest Nightwing fan. He had to be. What kind of man in his 20s has a onesie for a superhero and isn’t totally obsessed with them? “I’ll see you later.” He smiled at you once more before leaving. You took a deep breath in, nervous for tonight.

Ah yes, tonight. The night where you’d finally meet the mysterious son of Bruce. Jason was his name and apparently he has had issues ever since he had to fake his death to avoid a stalker when he was a kid. You didn’t know much about him other than he really resented Bruce and that he liked to make jokes about his “death”.

You put on a knee length dark blue dress and black kitten heels and nervously made your way downstairs just as the doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it!” You yelled, not wanting to have Alfred be interrupted while he cooks.

You opened the door to see a young man who looked to be around 20 or 21 dressed in a red dress shirt, black pants, black shoes and a black leather jacket. The man liked black, apparently. Just from that you already knew who it was. “You must be Jason. I’m Y/N, Bruce’s-“

He interrupted. “Fling. I know.”

You pursed your lips and nodded. You could tell he would be a challenge just like Damian. But you were someone who enjoyed a challenge.

“I was going to say girlfriend but I guess we all have our own words.” You tried to joke, but he just stood there, unamused.

You smiled and gestured for him to come in. He looked you up and down before walking inside with a blank face. You could tell he was a lot like Bruce, probably more than either men cared to admit.

“So Jason, how old are you?” You asked, following him into the dining room. He just slumped down in an empty chair and examined his nails. “Probably not that much younger than you, if I know Bruce.” He chuckled to himself. You felt your anger rise but held it in and nodded. Be patient, Y/N.

“I’m only three years younger than Bruce, actually.”

Damian came down after a short moment of complete awkward silence. “Y/N. Todd.”

There was a clear distaste when he said ‘Todd’ but Jason just grinned chaotically. “Hey, little tot.”

Damian glowered. “I may physically be a child, but at least I do not act like one.” He carefully sat in the chair next to you and crossed his arms. Jason rose an eyebrow. He definitely didn’t know Damian to be someone to warm up to anyone, especially not Bruce’s flings. “Who invited you, anyway?”

Jason tilted his chair back and crossed his long legs. “Bold of you to assume that I need an invitation. But if you must know, Bruce’s sugar baby here did. I was just as surprised as you.”

Damian looked at you, betrayed, but kept quiet. He figured you must have some plot to get Todd to like you, but if Damian knew Jason, he knew that he definitely was never going to warm up to you.

You were just about to snap at “sugar baby” when Alfred came in with the food. You could always trust his “Oh god, shit’s about to hit the fan” senses. “Dinner is served.”

Jason scoffed. “Where’s the old man? Too unbothered to come to dinner? Wow, he must reaaallyy like you.” He turned to you.

You were really going to smack this guy. He was different than what you assumed, he wasn’t anything like Damian. Damian was not bitter, he was just a kid who was always called a monster, a demon, and under those layers of toughness he just wanted to be accepted. But Jason was plain disrespectful and rude because nobody had the guts to stand up to him. Just as you were about to stand up to him, Bruce arrived. He gave you a quick kiss on the cheek as a greeting and sat down at the head of the table. “Jason. So nice of you to join us.”

“Nice of me? What about you? Last I checked, you were supposed to be here like, ten minutes ago.”

Bruce tucked a napkin into his shirt and calmly looked at Jason. “Business call.”

“You’d understand Todd,, if you had a proper job.” Damian quipped under his breath.

You quickly diffused the situation. “It smells delicious, Alfred. Thank you.”

You urged Damian to grab his helping before touching anything, wanting to make sure he had enough. The boy usually didn’t eat very large helpings and you were always fretting over his health. “Get as much as you want, Dami.”

Damian just nodded and put another spoonful of spaghetti on his plate. You smiled and Jason just about died of shock. You were definitely different than Bruce’s other flings. But he wouldn’t let himself start to like you. He knew you’d end up just being some crazy assassin or some gold digger. But you just turned to Jason. “Are you not going to eat? I invited you here for dinner because I know that apartment living isn’t exactly a 5 star restaurant. Trust me, I lived on ramen and Cheetos for years.”

Jason nodded. “So you’re with Bruce because you just couldn’t handle your poor lifestyle anymore, then. I figured you out.”

Bruce spoke up, “Jason, that’s enough.”

You patted Bruce’s hand and laughed.

“Trust me, if I was with Bruce for fancy meals and money I wouldn’t have asked Alfred to make spaghetti.”

Jason just stared blankly with an annoyed look in his eyes. He had to admit, he liked your patience and calm, quick wit.

“Nice bracelet. How many days were you dating Bruce before you begged him to buy it?”

Damian threw down his fork and stood up. “I won’t have you harassing her, you absolute fool. Would Father even be with her if she was the money grabbing trollop you insist she is?”

Jason was shocked at Damian’s defending you and shut up, angrily biting into his spaghetti.

You smiled and patted Damian on his shoulder. “It’s fine, Dami. Jason just met me, I’m sure there have been other women that your father has dated that he liked and they ditched him.” Damian sat down but continued to glare at Jason.

“Well, you’re right about the other women. He’s dated a lot of women. What number is she, like 127?” Jason laughed.

Bruce shot a warning look at Jason. “She’s different, Jason. And your whole act isn’t working. She isn’t like the other women I’ve dated.” Your heart was swelling at the two most stoic men you know defending you so wholeheartedly.

“And you are right, I admit I have dated lots of women. But Y/N is nothing like them. She makes me a better man, Jason. And I hope she can make you a better one too, because the man you are right now is disappointing.” He calmly but fiercely explained.

Jason seemed a bit hurt and just stood up. “Well, thanks for the dinner, Alfred. I need to get going. Nice to meet you, hope you last another week.” He quickly grabbed his jacket and left.

You sighed at that shook your head. “Bruce.” You gave him an annoyed look and got up, rushing to the kitchen before coming back out with containers in your hands and rushing out the door. It was the dead of winter and you were freezing but you pushed on, yelling Jason’s name. “Jason, wait!”

You slipped on a patch of ice just as he turned at you. His eyes widened and he rushed to you. “Are you okay?”

You winced but nodded and held out the containers of leftover spaghetti. “You forgot the leftovers. Like I said, you can’t just live off Cheetos.”

Jason felt his tough facade crack and he furrowed his eyebrows. “You literally nearly broke your ankle over leftover spaghetti.”

You looked up at him before bursting out laughing, forgetting the pain in your ankle.

Of all the reactions he expected you to have to his attitude that night, this definitely wasn’t one.

“Are you nuts?” He questioned, helping you off the cold ground and allowing you to balance yourself on his shoulder.

You grinned and winked. “Guess so, but who isn’t even a little crazy?”

Bruce was right, you were definitely different. Jason just picked the containers that somehow didn’t spill and nodded. “Right. Well, see you next week. What about Tuesday? What is Alfred making?”

You grinned up at the tall boy. You totally won him over and both of you knew it. “Whatever you want.”

Jason’s cheeks were dusted red from embarrassment at his own behavior. “Listen, uh, I’m kinda… sorry.”

You laughed it off and hit him on the shoulder. “No hard feelings,” your voice deepened and you gave a glare worse than the infamous Bat-Glare. “But if you ever call me a sugar baby again I will beat you with my shoe. Well, I’m freezing. Night, Jason! Be safe!” You turned and Jason watched you go, the warmth from the container warming his cold hands. “Night.” He quietly called after you.

Bruce and Damian were both completely confused when you came in and pumped a fist into the air, smiling. Alfred just smiled.

Yeah, you were definitely different.

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