#SIT DOWN YOU PRETENTIOUS FUCKS IM AWARE
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Oh my fucking god the coffee influencer girlies on Instagram won't LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE after a comment I made on a post MONTHS AGO
I have never seen a group of more pretentious people harassing someone who LITERALLY WORKS in a coffee shop (ME HELLO YES HI I work in a coffee shop, used to work for SB, don't like their company or union-busting) and if that isn't white coffee girlies with their full narcissism on display then I don't know what is
#i wasnt even?? being pretentious like OTHER BARISTAS IN THE COMMENTS#DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY PEOPLE I SERVE IN A DAY THAT ARE LIKE “oh i used to work for starbucks we do it differently” OR#“oh thats bot the traditional way” IN A DAY??? A FUCKING LOT#AND I SAID THAT IN A RESPONSE TO SOMEONE BEING AN ASS LIKE “i literally deal with pretentious mfs like you all the time just let them make#coffee how they want“ AND IM STILL GETTING HARASSED#BY PEOPLE WHO CANT READ#MAYBE READ WHAT I REPLIED INSTEAD OF BEING RUDE TO A STRANGER#WHERE I CLEARLY STATED THAT YES THERE ARE OTHER FORMS OF MAKING COFFEE THAT ARENT HIGHLY COMMERCIALIZED LIKE STARBUCKS#BUT FOR THE PURPOSES OF SOMEONE ASKING HOW TO ORDER A DRINK IF THEY WENT TO SB I COMMENTED TO HELP THEM OUT#“hey to order this asked for a reverse (iced) macchiato :))💚”#AND THE AMOUNT OF PEOPLE THAT S C R E A M E D “THATS NOT A REAL MACCHIATO” “YOURE THE REASON PEOPLE ORDER DRINKS WRONG”#SIT DOWN YOU PRETENTIOUS FUCKS IM AWARE#BUT TO MAKE MY JOB AND THEIR ORDER FUCKING EASIER THATS WHAT I WORK RECCOMEND THEY ATTEMPT TO ORDER#GET YOUR PRETENTIOUS COFFEE STANDARDS AWAY FROM ME I DEAL WITH ENOHGH OF YOU PEOPLE AT WORK#JUST LET PEOPLE ENJOY WHAT THEY ENJOY#I WOULD SOMEONE ORDER A “REVERSE MACCHIATO” THAN THEM MAKE A FUCK TON OF ADDITIONS AND CHANGES AND BE EVEN MORE PRETENTIOUS#the crazy part is half these people were claiming to be baristas YEAH FUCKING RIGHT as if someone that worked a service job at least one#fucking day in their life would be THAT pretentious to other service workers#get a fucking grip its just a drink#white women i swear to god#remind me to never utter the word coffee on instagram again#im just trying to serve people as quick as possible with as little headache please just let me do my job#and if telling someone to order an unmixed latte as a reverse macchiato makes it easier than i'll do it every day#“im a barista too and that doesnt exist” where bitch in beverly hills#im a queer person in the deep south making minimum wage i do not give a single fuck#mine#just let katie call her separated latte a reverse macchiato so i can take the next order i do not give a fuck about the details#“um actually🤓” then you come make it bitch#no i dont work for starbucks but i dont work for a high end coffee shop either and we certainly dont have a manual espresso machine#so we cant even MAKE a traditional macchiato be so for real
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killshot
im nayeon x fem!reader ; smut!!
synopsis: your roommate is aware that you hate her and she likes irritating you but oh no she just now realizes you’re hot and wants you so bad
warnings: kinda porn w no plot ; smut!!! ; mentions of alcohol ; hate fucking(???) ; degradation kinda ; insulting each other as they fuck yesss ; face riding ; comp sci major!reader *shivers and shakes* ; fwb-ish but not really ; nayeon is umm lowk manipulative but only if you squint , maybe? ; not proofread as always
wc: 5.1k
a/n: computer science major slander (i'm jealous) and also i don’t like the pacing but oh well maybe u guys will (i'd be such a great writer if i weren’t lazy af... )
with a groan, you lift yourself off the bed after hearing a loud thud. tiredly, you blindly reach for your phone and check for the time with squinted eyes: 1:04am.
a low “fuck” leaves your lips while you struggle to sit up, still hearing the impact of bodies crashing against the walls and the faint sounds of a woman and man groaning through the bedroom door.
nayeon is home.
this is a bi-weekly occurrence; your roommate nayeon stumbles into the apartment all hot and heavy from the alcohol that was in her system, and then you can hear her getting all intimate—against your will—with some random person she’s found at the various clubs she cycles through. to be completely honest, you don’t care for her midnight rendezvous, just as long as they don’t bother you.
however, this night she’s bothered you greatly; you’re fucking irritated.
just when you had finally sought solace in the arms of sleep after hours of laboring over a project, your few minutes of rest are abruptly shattered by the intrusion of nayeon. —all drunk and insatiable—who’s barging into your room whilst some average guy latches onto her neck. he doesn’t look like he knows what he’s doing, but it doesn’t matter because nayeon’s senses are too fucked to really pay attention to that.
“get the hell out of my room.” you yell angrily towards the two. to say you were annoyed would be an overwhelming understatement, you were furious.
“ah—fuck, sorry y/n,” she responds, voice all airy and light whilst the man’s hand slides down to play with the edge of her dress. “wrong room baby, let’s go.” she says whilst pushing the man off her a bit, much to his dismay.
they both leave the room, still attached to each other with their hands roaming and gripping at anything. to make matters even worse; they didn’t close the door behind them.
“fucking whore.” you scoff, falling back down on your bed and groaning.
-
im nayeon is an indescribable pain in your ass and unfortunately, she also happens to be your roommate.
for the most part, you generally pride yourself on your composure and tolerance, but living with nayeon has truly put your patience to the test. she's irresponsible and unreliable, which regularly pushes you to your limits. you find yourself frustrated sharing an apartment with someone who’s always falling hort of your expectations. she's falling far from them, really, and it’s almost impressive.
she has a knack for disappearing into the lurking in the apartment while you're away, often entertaining friends and leaving behind a mess in her wake. the audacity she possesses to neglect simple chores like doing the dishes or tidying up after herself borders on infuriating, you’re fighting the urge to bodyslam her into the mattress sometimes. it's as though she expects the cleaning fairy to magically swoop in and restore order while you're left to pick up the pieces of her irresponsibility, maybe she thinks you’re the fucking cleaning fairy.
living with her was hell, you don’t even know how she managed to keep up with her courses and stay sane with how she lived her life. she was a pretentious, sassy little thorn stuck in your skin.
but still, there are two things that keep you tethered to the apartment, even if it's a bit embarrassing to admit on factor. one: the rent is cheaper, and your shared living space is nice. two: nayeon’s fucking hot.
the truth is: nayeon is the epitome of physical allure, the hottest person you've ever laid eyes on. as much as you resent her for her shortcomings, you find yourself unable to ignore the pull of her undeniable visuals, which whispers against the urge to pack your bags and leave.
you despised the stupid allure of her face, the way her figure teased and tempted, and the fact that she held the power to have you on your knees if she poked you in the right ways. it grated on your nerves to know that you weren't the only one drawn to her; half the campus seemed to be either enamored with her, aspiring to be her, or eager to get into her pants. and she wielded her beauty like a weapon, using her "pretty privilege" to her advantage.
the feeling you had towards her was bitter, but the attraction you had made things complicated.
it was easy to mask your little attraction for your pretentious roommate with annoyed comments and irritated glares, but deep inside you wanted her in ways that you could never admit out loud. countless daydreams and very questionable thoughts about her invaded your mind at the worst times possible, espeically when she was near.
-
-
your irritation mixed with attraction was mutual. nayeon felt the same way about you; what a match.
at first, nayeon found herself irritated by your stuck-up demeanor and seemingly perfect self. your involvement in various extracurricular activities, dedication to your studies, and honestly majoring in computer science major as a whole contributed to her initial impression of you as someone who had it all together. it was a stark contrast to her own carefree attitude and laid-back approach to everything, which built friction between the two of you.
(nayeon could never do all of that, study for hours and keep her shit together. and god, especially watching you type for two hours straight already made her head swirl. how does someone do that without losing their shit? she wonders if you’re okay)
from nayeon's perspective, you were nothing more than a stuck-up bitch in her shared home, always fussing over cleanliness like a relentless clean freak. it striked a nerve every time you scolded her for leaving behind a couple of dishes or a few stray bottles of alcohol. if it bothered you so much, why not just pick up after yourself instead of constantly complaining?
despite the irritation you stirred within her, nayeon couldn't deny the undeniable truth: you were actually pretty cute for a nerdy, uptight roommate. in fact, she'd even go as far as to admit that you were pretty hot.
nayeon has seen the people in the computer science department, most of them are men who look like they’ve never spoken to a woman or gone outside for more than thirty minutes a day. you on the other hand were quite the sight, someone nayeon would describe as “eye candy.”
and yeah, she kind of overlooked the fact that you were her type after you had yelled at her so much, but then there was this one little moment that changed her mind. maybe she could tolerate you more.
(maybe nayeon had to put looks first in this case.)
--
--
some thursday afternoon, while you typically would be found either buried in books at the library or enjoying the afternoon at a café, nayeon found herself in a predicament—she couldn't find one of her favorite t-shirts. with frustration growing, she decided to take matters into her own hands and went into your room to see if it had somehow ended up there, given that you were supposed to be out.
to her surprise, she discovered that you were most definitely home, a fact that caught her completely off guard—especially when you’re home in your room, in the middle of taking your pants off.
she barges into your room to see you with your shirt off and the fly of your pants down, revealing some of the logo of your victoria’s secret underwear. your cheeks flush a dark hue of red when you realize she’s invaded your privacy, and you quickly cover your chest—which, is already covered since you have a bra on, but god is this whole situation embarrassing.
after you literally push her out the door—slamming it shut with embarrassment—nayeon stands outside the door with a newfound interest.
nayeon couldn't fathom that someone who dedicated their sanity to lines of numbers and letters on a screen could look so good. there was something mesmerizing about the subtle groove tracing down your stomach, hinting at the definition of your abs, or the glimpse of your bicep as you hastily covered yourself and scolded her for intruding, maybe even the hint of muscle on your shoulders. whatever it was—all nayeon knew was that the little mishap of you not locking the door and giving her the chance see you like that piqued her interest without doubt.
and after seeing you half naked? the image of you, with your shirt off and the hint of your physique tantalizingly on display? holy shit you had her fantasizing a little (a lot) more than she already had been; she needed some of her fantasies to come true.
your roommate had already been attentive to your quick—and evident—glances on her body and her lips. she also noted the subtle bite of your lips when she swayed by, your eyes barely caught her, but she noticed it all. getting her fantasies to become a reality seemed easy enough—probably—and she was determined to make it all happen.
she knew she already had you starting to wrap around her finger, just by those observations, so it should be easy enough to get you hot and heavy, right?
-
“oh look who’s finally fucking awake.” you mutter, turning around to see the hungover, marked up woman emerging from the hall.
nayeon rolls her eyes at you like always and simply responds, “oh shut up, don’t be a drag.”
“i’m a drag? i’m not the one barging in at one in the morning the same night my roommate stays up to actually do their school shit. not only that, but that fucking guy—”
“was a terrible kisser,” nayeon cuts you off, pinching the bridge of her nose. “i kicked him out so can you please just—”
“no!” you scoff, surprising nayeon with this burst of anger. you’re much more irritated than usual, which is weird. nayeon suspects that it’s because she’s never accidentally stumbled into your room, and to be fair; this was kind of intentional.
you see, nayeon thought that if she could make you a little jealous, it’d increase the chances of you intervening. just what she wanted.
“i couldn’t fucking sleep and i have a really important assessment today.”
“yeah yeah, move over i need some tea.” nayeon says tiredly. upon hearing her response, you clench your jaw tightly and lean against the marble counter, gripping it with one hand tightly to suppress your annoyance.
your roommate looks at you and a laugh slips out accidentally. after hearing that, there's probably a vein visible on your forehead, maybe your neck—somewhere.
that was your last straw.
angrily, you lift yourself off the counter and swiftly advance towards nayeon, pinning her against the fridge with force. the impact reverberates through her as her back meets the cold surface, while you lean in closer, your eyes narrowing with intensity.
now, this should not be turning nayeon on—she’s going to blame it on her hangover and whatnot, and maybe the fact that whoever that guy was and whatever he did didn’t really satitate her—but it does.
with barely an inch of space separating you, your height advantage allows you to tilt your head down, locking eyes with nayeon with a glare. the tension crackles between you like a firework, it’s thick and palpable, your look shows restrained anger. despite how furious you look, there's an unexpected allure to you, drawing nayeon in even as she senses the little reprimanding you’ll give her.
“don’t give me that fucking attitude nayeon. you’re fucking unbelievable, you’re a fucking slut, you know?”
“yeah?” she says, a smirk tugging at her pretty, plump lips.
you feel your body tense as soon as you start to take in the proximity of the two of you. gulping lightly, you move yourself away just an inch, but nayeon pauses you, pinching your collar.
“oh don’t get so timid now, you were just fuming earlier pretty.” she laughs. “keep going. this is cute, i like this. what did you call me again?”
as nayeon's eyes flicker from yours to your lips and back again, the tension between you is like pushing down on a spring, and it’s about to pop back up any moment. sensing an opportunity, nayeon skillfully navigates her way out of the looming scolding, her allure becoming a potent weapon against your mood. she begins to weave her charm, coaxing a reluctant softening in your expression. despite your initial anger, you find yourself drawn to her, you can’t let yourself slip up, not now, not when she’s the reason you might fail your assessment.
“you’re— you’re so... fucking irritating…” you mumble the last part of your sentence, voice getting smaller. you push yourself away from her and shake your head, trying to conceal your blush. nayeon giggles before going back to making her tea, the tension in the air like an invisible weight pressing down on you, and this whole morning might just completely flatten you down from how distracting it’ll be the whole day.
nayeon’s relieved, at least you’re not scolding her while she dips her chamomile bag in and out her little mug of hot water.
-
the day is filled with the events of the morning, with you struggling to finish various lines of code because the feeling of nayeon toying with your collar lingers, and nayeon trying to force the thought of you finally snapping in her head.
seems like the two of you are trying to avoid the same thought, despite how badly you two want it.
it's palpable that there’s something in the air that needs to be swatted away, and nayeon knows you’re too much of a coward to really do anything about it, so she’ll figure somethign out.
one thing about im nayeon: she always gets her way, no questions asked, no matter what it takes.
-
nayeon finds you on the couch typing away later that night, probably doing some homework.
nayeon plops down next to you, intending to tease and push you over the edge. you turn your head after feeling the cushions under you shift, immediately grimacing once you see your roommate.
“what do you want?”
“what, i can’t sit next to my roommate?” nayeon questions, “i’m just going to watch tv, if you don’t like it you can leave.”
“whore.” you mutter under your breath, quiet enough so she doesn’t catch what you say.
your roommate lounges lazily on the couch and rests her head against the armrest. as she reclined, her hair spilled over, framing her face like a halo. nayeon's gaze wandered lazily around the room before settling on the tv, and with a languid movement, she turned to lay fully, bending her legs so they didn't intrude into your personal space.
your jaw tensed, a visceral reaction to the sight before you. the light from the tv in the dimmed room accentuated the allure of nayeon's figure. you couldn't help but steal a glance, your attention momentarily torn away from your screen by the annoyingly captivating vision in your periphery.
casual sweatpants adorned her figure, the looseness of the bottoms from brandy allowing for comfort yet teasingly hinting at the eye-catching curves of her terribly alluring figure beneath. the fit of her tank top—cropped just enough to expose a sliver of her toned midriff—effortlessly made your gaze linger. the fabric clung to her silhouette in all the right places, revealing the subtle contours that sent a subtle jolt through the room and your veins. you completely forgot about pretending to be irritated in that brief trance.
the tank top, snug against her skin, revealed a gentle dip of her collarbone, an enticing invitation that you took note of. the image staying in your head even as your attention returned to your screen. a flush settled on your cheeks as you tried to focus again. the ambiance of the room, however, remained penetrated with the downplayed sensuality that lingered in the air. you huff lowly. she's winning whatever game this is without even trying.
after typing at your laptop for a bit, you hear the faint sound of people talking in the background. you look up from the screen and see some show playing, then turn to see nayeon’s head turned toward the tv.
shaking your head, you redirect your attention back to the assignment in front of you; the task is quite easy, but it’s insanely tedious and for some strange reason nayeon’s presence isn’t helping you.
nayeon shifts on the couch and sits upright against the cushion, you don’t bat an eye. your roommate is sick of you being academic, she’s bored and wants your attention. needs it, maybe.
“when’s that due?”
without turning your head, you respond, “next week.”
“why do it now?”
“why do you care?” your tone is impatient. “and besides, it’s better to get things done earlier.”
“nerd.” nayeon sighs. she scoots over and peers at your screen, putting her hand down beside you to prop herself up and when she leans over, her boob smushes against your arm a little.
you glare at her. “aren’t you usually out? it’s a friday night.”
she shrugs. “didn’t feel like it.” and after she scans the screen one more time, she leans away (to your dismay) and continues on with whatever drama she had been watching.
the thought of her boob being smushed against you lingers, embarassingly it’s almost tattooed in your mind for the next half an hour.
when you finish your assignment, that’s when you let out a big, hefty breath and close your laptop.
nayeon's annoyingly melodic giggle dances in the air as you sink into the plush couch, surrendering to its embrace that eases the pain in your shoulders. after savoring your few seconds of tranquility, your thoughts drift to the comfort awaiting you in your bedroom, your bed, peace and quiet, being enveloped by the blanket.
as you start to stand up, a delicate yet firm grip clings to your forearm, delaying your departure. nayeon's touch, like a sirens call, invites you to linger, gently coaxing you to stay a little longer.
she bats her eyelashes at you. “stay here.”
you brows knit. “why would i stay with you?”
“watching shows alone is boring, and i know your ass isn’t going anywhere tonight.”
you groan in response and decide to give in—you might as well lounge on the couch for a bit—earning a smug smile from your roommate. she unpauses her show and you allow yourself to ease into the cushion, then watch with her (against your will), only to immediately tense up at the scene that unravels before your eyes.
two girls appear on screen, and they’re kissing each other.
they’re close, kissing, and then fifteen seconds pass and boom—they’re eating each other’s mouths sloppily, groaning and everything, tongue and all. you shift in your seat when you feel a weird pulse down at your core.
“y/n,” nayeon starts, “have you ever even kissed someone?”
“of course i have.” you respond, crossing your arms.
nayeon turns her head in surprise and tilts her head. “seriously?”
“yes, is it that surprising?”
“well, you’re always cooped up in the house and whatnot… didn’t think you had any game.”
“i hooked up with someone last month for your information. i'm not a homebody.”
“yeah? sure, you did.” she laughs, shaking her head. you roll your eyes at her.
“fuck you.” you mutter, keeping your eyes on the tv and watching the two girls undress each other. “do you always watch shit like this?”
“why, does it turn you on or something?” nayeon asks, shifting closer to you. a lump forms in your throat.
you shoot a quick glare at her and lie, “no.”
nayeon laughs in amusement after pink dusts your cheeks. “you seem pretty flustered baby.”
what the fuck?
as you meet her gaze, a wave of surprise washes over you, mirroring the hunger that burns in her eyes. nayeon's laughter tumbles from her lips, enchanting and playful, as she places her hand delicately on the couch. leaning towards you, she ignites a spark that makes your heart skip a beat. feeling a sudden urge to be closer, you subtly shift in your seat, captivated by the exhilarating simplicity of the moment and giving into nayeon’s intentions.
“i don’t believe you.” she says.
“what?”
“you’ve never kissed someone, hell, like you could even fuck someone.”
“excuse me?”
she just laughs at the mix of emotions coming from you; your cheeks are dusted pink, but your tone and expression displays that regular irritated look of yours.
then she bites the corner of her lip, finally easing into the reason she even bothered you in the first place. she leans a little closer, lips hovering near your ear lobe, and giggles again.
“how about you prove that you’ve fucked someone, hm?” nayeon suggests, raising her brows. “that you even can.”
your breath trembles slightly, you’re stiff in your place.
“if it’ll shut you up then... fine.”
she clicks her tongue, then pulls away from your ear. now she’s looking at you with a shit eating grin, you want to wipe it off her face.
the air stilled, your breath shook, and nayeon’s hand inches to your forearm. her other hand grabs the collar of your shirt, pulling you in and your lips meet in the middle.
she tastes like cherry, well, her lip gloss does.
your hand finds its way to the back of her neck, pushing her deeper into you so your lips can hungrily slide and suck and gosh, everything, all of the above, both a and c, you name it.
the last thing you had on your mind for the friday night was kissing your roommate aggressively. initially, you were just going to finish the assignment and take a nap or something, but this? it’s much better than what you had planned originally.
nayeon practically takes your breath away after simply kissing you, just the way your lips lock makes you greedy. you groan accidentally, embarassed until you have nayeon groaning into you too, even louder for that matter.
you pull away for a brief moment, voice a little shaky and out of breath. “is this why you bothered me? are you that horny that you wanted me to fuck you?”
“oh shut up, it’s not like you’re against it.” nayeon’s right, you’re not. not in the slightest.
“fuck you” is uttered from your lips before you crash your lips against her again, taking the air from her lungs again.
the kissing quickly escalates and your tongues are in each other’s mouths. you’re both unashamedly moaning and groaning into each other carelessly, it’s funny how quickly everything escalated within seconds, the boundaries between whatever you two had dissolved like sugar in boiling water. you shift yourselves over so that nayeon is under you, both your knees on either side of her legs. you reach over for the remote to pause the two girls who were mirroring the two of you—well, the two of you started going at it after they did so maybe it was the two of you mirroring them.
each subsequent kiss felt as electrifying as the crackle of sparks dancing in a bonfire. the more nayeon deepened the kiss the more it drove you crazy, irrationally enough to continue kissing her and slip your hands under her shirt.
nayeon sighs blissfully as you kiss down her neck, her fingers tangle with your hair while she claws at it aggressively, and still, the pain from her grabbing your hair only turns you on more.
“fuck,” she groans when you suck on her neck, sinking her nails into your tricep.
“slut.” you mutter, smirking against her. “so easy to rile up.”
unashamedly, nayeon begs and begs for you until you’re biting down on her skin, repeatedly uttering your name until you’re leaving marks that’ll have her friends wondering who ruined her this time—and this time, it’s not some person she’s run into at the bar while tipsy.
still, she could get drunk just off of you.
you start to undress her, starting with her top and taking a moment to gaze at her undeniably alluring figure. strands of hair just barely stick to her forehead as she gazes at you breathlessly with eyes full of lust. she moves her slender fingers to work at the edge of your shirt, urging you to take that stupid t-shirt you have on off so she can get a sight of your surprisingly exciting figure. maybe she’ll get a better, longer view of what she had seen that night she walked in on you changing.
“fuck, why have you been hiding this?” she mutters, sliding her hand down your side. “god you fucking bitch.”
“if i didn’t you’d be all over me, you fucking horny mess.” you spit back harshly, but the way you moan when nayeon latches her lips onto your neck completely rids of that fake, irritated tone of yours.
nayeon ends up on top of you in a matter of seconds, thenyou’re groping her ass shamelessly as you two devour each other’s mouths again. hands tug at whatever else covers your bodies until it’s just the two of you skin to skin. everything that had just happened in the span of ten minutes was for sure ten times better than whatever else had been going on in the movie.
you can feel her grinding desperately against your thigh as you kiss her, feeling the moisture from her needy cunt that dampens your once-dry upper leg. you palm her breasts blindly and feel her gasp against you, and then nayeon forgets how to breath when you press your thigh up and against her, adding more stimulus.
she moans frustratedly, the feeling of just your thigh against her throbbing pussy is far from what she needs. so, she’s putting her hand on the middle of your chest and pushing you down to lay flat on your back. she bites her lip blatantly before lifting her hips away from your skin.
you furrow your brows in confusion and begin, “what are you—”
“shut up,” she grunts, shoving one hand in your head and gripping your hair so rough that you whimper. she shifts over so that her pussy is directly above your mouth and orders: “just eat, bitch.”
this is something you can’t argue with her about, and fuck you’re hungry.
there’s a meal waiting for you that you’ve been craving, you can’t just lay there and starve.
eagerly, you lift your head up a bit to meet the aching in between her legs; she’s so wet and you’re definitely teasing her about this later—but who knows how long it will take until it’s later.
she moans louder than ever and it surprises the both of you, it only leaves you wanting more of her, wanting to hear her when she’s at her limit. your nails sink into the flesh of her thigh as you devour ravenously, taking note of what makes her twitch more and what earns lewder noises. what earns noises that turn you on more than ever.
it doesn’t surprise you how shameless she is during sex—clearly, she isn’t ashamed of seducing her roommate—the way she rides your face so desperately gives you enough to know how she is.
nayeon likes when you suck on her clit, she grips your hair tighter with each “pop” sound that’s made after you release the suction. she’s easy to read, her cunt is easy to adjust to.
“fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” nayeon moans, leaning back little while she continues to ride, head tilted back and face almost parallel to the ceiling. “god-- fuck, oh my—shit, keep going,”
you can see her tits from your view, nipples all perked up while you grip onto her thighs tighter, feeling her shake in your grasp.
nayeon's like an alarm clock, ticking and ticking away until the alarm rings, her cry echoing through the room, hand gripping at your hair tighter than ever as her head falls back. you continue to savor her arousal even after she came, earning little whines and whispers of your name.
“oh, y/n, just like that...”
you're doing all the work now, which only helps with your aversion towards her, but still, you’ve made her moan, cry—all of the above, so at least there’s something to use against her.
and then she lifts herself off of you, letting your head rest back against the seat of the couch so you can catch your breath.
when she looks down, all she can make out through fuzzy vision and overwhelmed senses is the puff of your lips, hooded eyes, and fucked up hair; everything about the sight of you is a product of her desires, a fantasy that’s been lingering in her mind now come true.
“slut,” you mutter, almost breathlessly. “you’re really loud, you know.”
“fuck you.”
“already did.” you retort, giggling. “let’s go for another.”
“oh so now look who’s a horny mess.” nayeon responds, moving over to sit on your lap.
you sit up, holding yourself up with your hands placed behind you. “you just never shut up, do you?”
nayeon smiles before tracing her finger along your skin. “do you me want to?”
you look at her amusingly before shifting positions so she’s laying down flat on her back, with you hovering above. the two of you kiss again, nayeon savoring a the traces of arousal off you, a muffled hum of delight vibrating against your locked lips.
she pulls away, thumbing your nipple and making you groan surprisingly. you pull away to glare at her.
nayeon laughs, “wow, you’re so--”
you cut her off by shoving your ring and middle finger in her mouth, she almost gags, but the way she sucks obediently is enough to tell you that she’s enjoying this.
“you just never shut up,”
in response, she moans with your fingers still in your mouth, right before you pull them out, skin coated with her saliva.
you bring your fingers down to her cunt, teasing her folds.
“let’s change that.”
#miinatozakiii#twice x reader#kpop x reader#twice imagines#nayeon x reader#im nayeon#im nayeon x reader#twice smut#twice nayeon
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Malcolm and Marie live blog
I don't usually do liveblogs for movies but yea.
Spoilers ahead!!
I love that its modern timed but very 70s stylized.
A tune indeed.
When you are high and drunk on success and
How the white critic reacts is why I feel like gatekeeping my scripts. At the same time some things I do make are about race or involve.
Marie sitting on the patio smoking is a mood whenever men are talking.
So he's pretentious and unaware.
Whoever chose the music for this, I feel like we would be Spotify mutuals.
Can this nigga stop pacing.
Also can he stop talking;
Marie is so tired and unimpressed.
Also little booties matter and are to be bitten.
Oooo the tension and the jazz.
Title Card over mac and cheese.
Shitty boxes mac and cheese but still mac and cheese.
Tbh i always wonder if spouses/significant others get upset when their spouses don't acknowledge them during speeches.
John sounds so much like his dad but I really hope his acting style differs from his dad a lot.
Guilty confession?
He did not profit off of his partners backstory and then not even acknowledge her.....I.....
If that ever happened to me catch me cussing my partner out during the beginning credits, the end credits, in the car, and at home.
GASLIGHTER!
The way I'm excited for Zendaya to give me some, oooo can she work with Regina King. Please on my knees I pray.
Um no that's not your job to coddle your lead.
He's a dick and the type of dick who makes himself look like a good person around other people.
If Sam Levinson is trying to make his viewers more of misandrist, it's working.
I feel like Marie has her flaws probably a lot of them and we will surely see as this continues, but Malcolm needs to learn how to apologize sincerely.
70s vibes! 70s vibes!
Them kissing and talking about criticism and dreams makes me miss a partner. A partner that I've had and haven't had.
Women really are behind every great man.
Yea sir you fucked a happy moment.
Oh visual allegories for looking in from the outside and cat and mouse chasing and looking from the outside in.
She's saying she doesn't feel noticed by you.
Gas lighter :0 he called her an emotional support dog, bruh.
I would LOVE to co-write or take a writing class held by Sam Levinson. The fights i write are very much in this same realm of reflection and anger and monologue.
Sam.....sam.....are all the sides inside of you doing okay sir?
The ugly side of dating and being in a relationship with someone who struggles with their own demons.
Honestly I could close my eyes and listen to this script being read without seeing these characters visually. Just close my eyes and get a sense of these characters like it was a radio story.
Oh. Oh this is a new wheelhouse of Zendaya acting; a different voice is like breaking through here and her expressions aren't the same we are used to. You can literally hear another character in there....hmm.
Mans is outside really fighting with his invisible demons lmfao.
Selfish ass, how after everything she said you came out of it thinking about your own craft and self instead of how you hurt her.
So she's conditional.
Me: did sam (a white man) say nigga this many times in his script or are the actors adding their own inflections. Not just the lingo used but the topic of race and directing etc. being written by a white writer about black characters is always gonna be a critique when you're writer is a white person.
Alexa play Broken Girls by Saba
He is so hurtful.
A clown nigga a clown look in the fucking mirror you bozo head ass looking like you need some Mehron clown white and a size 16 in clown shoes.
John is doing a really swell performance and reading of these lines.
He is reading her for her insecurities by bringing up his experiences with other women and that.....is yikes.
Arguments can get messy like this in real life but it takes a lot of maturity and control to either not let it get to this point or have a healthy conversation afterwards.
This film is really shot on some very crisp lenses.
They sitting there like 🚬🧍♀️🧍♂️.
Leftover Mac and Cheese and unfinished cigarettes.
The nyt etc. pay walls are so annoying, but there is a work around look at the articles on incognito or add a period at the end of the url.
He sounds like his daddy so much here, weird, this is the only part I'm eh on the dialogue it feels real but a bit out of pace in how they are bouncing off one another.
Nail scissors? So the end is not the only part he based off of Marie. 🙄
ITS A GOOD REVIEW YOU DINGUS but also its a full review they are going to critique things. She isn't wrong though he did profit off of a woman's story that was not his own to profit from.
Yes Malcolm because unfortunately all marginalized people look through a lens of life that is inherently political because of the world they live in.
He is so mad and upset and had a lot on his chest. But I think he Malcolm and Sam are talking about something thats an issue and a non issue. Being critiqued for you art is hard but also Malcolm is not super self aware. He's like a stand in figure of for example rich depop sellers who wanna be oppressed so badly they yell at others instead of examining their own personal behaviors and ethics.
Oh Marie, when you know the spark is gone and you pick fights because.
He ain't even ask her to read?
One critic I have for most of hollywood actors is they learn their cry and that is it. A change from this is Margot Robbie, I adore her fluctuations of crying being similar but the crying is carried differently for each character. If I had to say any actor that does a cry scene amazing its this woman right here (Amy Adams)
You stole her story from her and gave it away, she has a right to be upset and angry and a rubber band ball of emotions.
Citizen Kane, not the cinematography, but the story is it even that good? (Unpopular opinion but meh, maybe in my rewatch it will be better.)
But that is what people want authenticity and whatever authenticity means to them. What is real for one is false for another.
To be honest look at the criticism of Euphoria, well earned, but a lot of people were like this isn't real even though he literally wrote about his own life. People said it was inauthentic like....wtf.
Ahh the smoking is just a habit, he quit and she didn't.
CAST ZENDAYA IN A HORROR MOVIE PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF EVERYTHING. Get Lupita and Zendaya and some more black actors preferably less known ones in a horror movie. One with a interesting script and story, directed by Regina King. Please and thankyou.
I love Marie yep that was amazing.
Behind every great man is a greater woman, one that deserves her credit for how she has stood behind. I wonder the stories of those women, what they have sacrificed or not sacrificed. Their thoughts and feelings when the world is surrounding their partner and views them as a plus one. (I'd write a short script about this but I think do I have the time, can I, or am I equipped ?)
He is a shitty person for bringing up his exes, like she even said I don't wanna know any of that.
Imagine being on anti depressents and rarely having a sex drive and then when you do your partner starts talking about their exes and tearing you apart for all your faults.
I love when you see peaks of Zendaya's cadence in roles.
Tension, what if's and he didn't even bring her up in his speech.
Marie to herself and the audience:
He is not afraid that he will loose her but as my character says in my unreleased story, "i can't wait til you give me a fucking reason to leave your ass." Malcolm expects everything in order for not even doing the bare minimum and she is only asking him for something as simple as consideration. She just wants him to be considerate. He wants to get married and considers their relationship like rolling down a hill at full speed and he cannot apologize, he cannot be considerate, and he cannot admit his wrongs. He can only offer her I love yous that he probably does mean but he does not back up outside of what he's done for her in the past. The past which was more of her experience than his and he sees his part in it as a burden. He doesn't use his own vantage point of the past to further his career he uses her. He does all of these things without a real apology or thankyou because he is not afraid to loose her.
The restrictions of quarantine and the panorama have made Sam's writing very no frills. I wonder how other films from other directors and writers that are filmed in small contained crews like this will be structured. But this was a very good movie gonna add to my letter box 3.3-3.5
Oh shit this is my song,
Ratings/overall thoughts:
Script is like a C+, B- : I could go into my heavier big brain thoughts on the script but I don't feel like it. You catch hints of it above it centers conversation on race and privilege, mainly the writers and questions i have that won't be answered but Sam did make me grow disdain for Malcolm over a short time. Which is sometimes hard to do because im one sympathetic person but the sympathy i have for Malcolm is at 0. Maybe a 2 at some scenes but then it quickly goes back to 0. Some parts of the dialogue miss the mark or hit the are off balanced. While some of it like Malcolm's bathroom speech albeit mean is really strong or their conversation when he comes back from peeing really shines for me.
Performances: B+ to A- because they carried the script further than it could of gone with less talented actors. The monologues do well to showcase their current skill levels which are already high af and leave room for anticipation in where these actors go next.
Zendaya holding a knife: A+ with a gold star. That switch on and off and on is delectable.
John being a shitty boyfriend but following Marie like a lost puppy: B+ with a good job written at the bottom of the paper, Malcolm being nervous a frantic dialed up with more realistic nervousness would have sold me completely on Malcolm's anxious waiting.
Cinematography: A and a participation award.
The mac and cheese: A+ for the easy mac. Wish it was like Annie's or Velveeta.
Cigarettes: Participation award and their picture hung up for student of the month. Why the grill lighter? Everytime Malcolm opened up his mouth Marie was like sparks fly.
The music: A++ with a prize. Whoever picked the music probably makes good Spotify playlists.
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If They Get Married I'd Be Your Uncle
Masterlist
Warnings: swearing, mentions of sex, flirting, Bruce is frustrated
A/n:So been in a dc mood today and couldn’t get this out of my head i really hope you enjoy it xx
Bruce meets you when you both get called into the school and instantly wants you to himself.
If They Get Married I'd Be Your Uncle.
You grumbled as you walked up to the pretentious school pissed that it wasn't near any bus routes, cos these type of people don't use that sort of thing. The walk was long and arduous especially after the 10 hour shift you just finished cos some stupid little twat decided he didn't feel like coming in today and called in 'sick' at the last minute even tho you heard his giggling girlfriend in the back ground. Sighing you pulled out your hair tie slapping it up into a neater messy bun as you made your way into the school reception stopping ,you raised an eyebrow at the receptionist as she gave you a side glance pretending not to notice you. You looked up to the ceiling praying for some restraint because you'd had just about as much as you could take today and didn't need the snobby attitude of these people. After a few moments you looked at her.
"Excuse me I'm here to see Mr Koleman I'm running a bit late so could you sign me in?" you said as calm as possible she rolled her eyes.
"Mr Kolman doesnt take personal meetings on the school grounds" she said snidely dismissing you , you growled at the implication.
"I'm Jack Cookes sister you phoned me earlier?"
"oh? you have an appointment?" she said. you grit your teeth.
"Trust me if I didnt I wouldnt be here" she gave you the once over then reached a perfectly manicured hand beside her screen lifiting a clip board
" and your Mrs?" you shook your head
"Miss Cooke with an e" a chuckle and whispers rippled through the office as she checked you in and handing you a visitors pass. You snatched it and made your way down to the hall to a mini reception outside the principles office. As you opened the door you spotted your little brother supporting a bloody nose ,cut cheek and eyebrow. Ignoring everyone you ran across the room stopping before him and his best friend.
"Oh for fuck sake Jack, here let me look" you said tilting his face this way and that you looked beside him swivling on your feet pulling the boys face up.
"Damien are you ok- seriously you to?" you cut yourself off seeing a dark bruise on the boys jaw you tutted rummaging through your bag pulling out a pack of ibuprofen and small bottle of water passing it to them both.
"here take these" stopping as the principles secretary snapped at you.
"Miss! you cannot give medication to other student's god knows what they are!!" you rolled your eyes giving the sleeve of tablets to Jack who then popped out two and gave them to Damien before taking his own.
"Happy?" you quipped at her with an innocent smile then turned to Jack
"Jack please please tell me you still have all your teeth" he smiled showing a full set then looked at Damien who copied. You sighed in relief smoothing both boys hairs then placed a kiss on each of their heads. You continued coddling them unaware of the man behind you watching shocked as damien sat still letting you fuss over him. Bruce didnt know you from adam but damien apparently did
"Was it them again? I told you if your gonna retaliate keep it off campus!" you said kneeling in front of them hand on either boys knee.
"We didn't start it." your brother stated and you believed him , he and Damien get themselves into trouble I mean there a couple of teenage boys there bound to act up but he doesn't just 'verbally disrespect people and attack other students' as the teacher on the phone had put it.
"Ok what happened?" you asked they both looked down Damien spoke up first
"They started calling us names again, kyle tripped and blamed Jack for it getting him told off so i called Kyle out on it then they started calling us names again we told Mrs Hatt and she laughed saying sticks and stones" . Jack continued
"So I called her a drunk fat bitch who was at best a fucking baby sitter, kyle slammed my head into the desk for it cos he's a little ass lick." you sighed as Damien took over
"SoIi punched kyle in the face knocking him on his ass and Clarence hit me and Jack headbutted him then we were pulled apart"
"yeah were did you learn to punch like that? he went down like a sack of shit" Jack asked laughing damien joined him laughing you deadpanned as they high five'd one another.
"Ok guys thats neither here nor there the point is your teacher sat back and watched?" they nodded there teacher seemed to have a problem with your brother due to your social class, he'd been accepted as part of a new law that all private schools must accept a certain number of full scholarship students to give everyone 'an equal opportunity' you'd been complaining to the school about the bullying and the teachers attitude but nothing has been one it seems.
"So you didn't hit them first?" you asked Damien shook his head at you. you believed them they were good kids.
"Good but you know fighting isn't the answer right?" they shook their heads you stood up fully taking a seat beside them.
"Damien thank you for helping him and Jack fuck sake don't you know headbutting hurts you more than the other guy. I'm sorry this is still happening guys but I'm gonna take care of it ok? trust me?" they both nodded at you still looking a little sorry for themselves you swung around in your seat only now seeing Bruce sitting opposite you.
"Bruce Wayne, you must be Jacks sister Y/n was it?" you nodded as his hand devoured your in a hand shake.
"Yep that's me. sorry your boy got dragged into this" he chuckled waving it off
"He will always find trouble at least this time its for sticking up for his friend, im glad to finally have a face to put to the name they talk about you alot" you nodded at that couldn't help your breathing hitch slightly at his smile his eyes seemed to burn into you analyzing you. You flushed slightly under his gaze
"Good things i hope" he nodded at you licking his bottom lip damien sighed you loked away before smirking at Jack.
"You really called her a drunk fat bitch?" he laughed proud of himself
"Yeah, sticks and stone and all that thought id test it" you laughed out loud
"To quick for them huh? I see where your going with it tho smart ass" he smiled sheepishly
"Well it worked for you, had to give you a leg to stand on" you laughed high fiving him . Bruce flinched as the display made you look your age. your relationship with your brother was a strange one. One moment you had to be the 'politically correct parent' the next you could return to being his 'cool older sister', there was 12 years between you but it didn't bother either of you , it wasn't that long ago that you were in school so you understood him. You struck up a conversation with the two boys, Damien had been the only one in the school to get along with Jack and you were thankful that they found each other two peas in a pod and he seemed to be coming round constantly it hadn't taken long before you started mothering him to. They were always together at your house or the manor but youd never met bruce jntill today sure damien had spoke about him, convinced that the two of you would hit it off, you just laughed him off saying it was wishfull thinking, but you couldnt help but wonder as you sat across from the handsom man well aware of his eyes watching your every move. Bruce watched fascinated as you seemed to be on the same level as the boys , if he was honest he was happy to see Damien relaxed around someone. Damien constaly gushed about you to him and he could see why as his eye scanned you up and down taking everything in , you was certainly beautiful petite and slightly heavy set you had a young carefree air about you that still held a nurturing aspect , probably what drew damien to you the boy had never had a motherly type of women around him, hell even he felt drawn to you in more ways then one, he noted as he felt,his blood rush south. It had been a while since any woman had coaxed such a strong reaction from him. He'd never been one for the young domestic type but there was something in him that wanted you. He tried reasoning that it was because of the way you had coddled his son, or maybe it was that he missed that motherly affection himself, but no there was something more then that a deep atraction pulling at him.He could see why Damien had taken a shine to you he'd be lying if he said he hasn't already been thinking of a reason to meet up with you outside of school. It was rare that someone caught him by surprise and you had defiantly caught him by surprise. Clearing his throat he re-position himself on his seat as his boxers became tighter embarrassed and admittedly a bit confused as watching you mother the two teens had begun to arouse him. You looked over to him with concern.
"Are you ok Mr Wayne?" he inwardly groaned at the name and way you looked at him so innocently ,no idea what you were doing .fuck. He forced a charming smile
"Yes just wish they'd hurry up." you sighed pouting slightly
"It seems a bit stupid calling this an emergency then making us wait this long. twats." you snipped crossing your arms across your chest huffing he chuckled hearing the barely held back irritation, imagining just how bratty you could be, and exactly how he could deal with said bratty behaviour a shiver ran down his spine, he sucked through his teeth as his cock twitched at the thought his mind racing to other tempting scenarios of you and him, shaking his head he had to snap himself out of it. The door opened and you were both called in. He watched wide eyed as you rose your demeanor changed completely, gone was a fun loving motherly young woman and there stood a less than impressed mama bear under 5ft tall but walked like a giant. He blinked and staggered in behind you thankful that he opted for a longer blazer that helped cover his 'situation' once in the office you set down in front of Mr Koleman the principle a stout balding man that was king of his own little castle and like to let everyone know it.
Mr Koleman looked at you with distaste then smiled shaking hands with Bruce.
"Ah Mr Wayne good to see you again tho I hoped it was on better terms. Miss Cooke I'm glad you could come down today I wasn't sure you'd make it this time." he said condescendingly you smirked putting on your polite 'adult' voice.
"well I've been trying to get an appointment with you about these issues that I'm sure your fully aware of, however you seem fully booked so I'm glad I finally have the opportunity to straighten a few thing out" he grimaced as he took a seat behind the desk.
" Yes well I am a very busy man." he said
"Yes I noticed that when the receptionist mistook me for a personal visitor." you hear Bruce cough covering a laugh as the principle opened and closed his mouth speechless.
"Any way what was it you wanted to discuss Mr Koleman?" he scowled not used to being shut down by a young women. He leaned forward shuffling papers
"yes well we've been having problems with Jack for a few months as your aware-"
"Yes I'm aware that he is being targeted by his teacher and bullied by other students in the class which is being over looked and in some instances encouraged by the staff at this school. but go on." you interupted him staring at him unblinkingly Bruce gapped before collecting himself sitting back to watch the show the distinct feeling that you were going to rip this man a new arsehole.
"Uh-oh i was not aware of that"
"do not lie to me" you growled 'and here we go' Bruce thought he'd been with enough women to know that all hell was going to break loose as the quiet sweetheart form out side became a little spitfire in the office and couldn't help the a quick fantasy of you being this fiesty for him in his office. You pulled out a small red diary from your bag turning to dates in it.
"On the 4th of March I phoned the school and spoke to a Mrs Hatt to discuss cases of bullying she said that it was being taken care of and that I had no reason to worry. March the 12th Jack came home with bruises on his back caused by the same students they had tied knots in there ties and whiped him with them while getting changed for p.e, I had raised concerns about it nothing was done. I phoned again and once again was fobbed off by Mrs Hatt that there was nothing happening, then Jack comemhome with a sprained wrist, then it was bruised stomach, then a cut forhead and a brokennfinger from them smashing it in a door etcetera these incidents continued and I continued to report them and it was always the same names that popped up, the same three boys. I'd had enough on May 21st I phoned and asked to speak to you instead I got through to a Mrs Hamsten? the vice principle?" you watched as his face became paler and paler as you spoke he nodded. Bruced leant back eyes blown finding himself getting hotter as he watched you tear down the man infront of you.
"Yes and she said that the boys had been put into detention for it which turned out to be a lie another student confirmed that nothing had been done. I then put my issue in writing, I wrote a letter sent by recorded post to you about the issue and received a reply, sighed by you, that you have a no tolorence policy and would look into it, nothing has been done and now you have the audacity to call me up and have me come in here because he finally had enough and stuck up for himself because this little shit split his face open on a desk whilst the teacher watched? tell me Mr Koleman do you still want to pretend you dont know what I'm talking about because I've recored all the calls I've made about this." you tore into him as he shrunk further and further into his seat not prepared for you to come at him so direct. Bruce didnt know what the fuck happened to the sweet little thing he saw outside but what he did know was that was one of the sexist things he'd seen as you asserted yourself beautifully not giving the man time to respond. If it wasn't for Mr Koleman sitting behind the desk he'd already have you spread out on it underneath him. 'Another time'he thought to himself he licked his lips tugging at his trousers again trying to ease the ache in his cock as it strained against its confines.
"Ah yes well, now that I think about it I do remeber a letter" he stumbled over his words you nodded your head
"Yes I'm sure you do. Today was the inevitale blow up." He collected himself looking at Bruce for some sort of back up instead the billionaire scowled at him.
"Be that as it may there is no excuse for calling a teacher a drunk fat bitch." you nodded
"I agree how ever it was for science. Your member of staff who has neglected her duty to keeping my brother safe on school grounds ,has brushed off his bullying useing 'stick and stones' so he decied to test that theory by calling her a drunk fat bitch, turns out names do hurt and caused her to become agitated that she allowed him to have his face smashed into a desk by another student cutting open his eyebrow, cheek and bloody his nose. I dont think she should be able to teach if she cant practice what she preaches and certainly shouldnt be left incharge of children if she is that unstable that she would allow an attack to happen because her feeling were hurt."
"yes well he dragged Mr Waynes son into this-"
"Damien and Jack are friends Damien saw Kyle attack Jack and defended him which is more I can say for the staff at this school. I'm warning you Mr Koleman sort it out before I go to the press. How do you think that would look? when your school board find out that Mr Wanyes son was injured defending his friend when the teacher didn't lift a fucking finger. You wanna go there? cos I fucking will I've had enough." he sat up straighter alarmed, Bruce moaned deep in his chest but watching you was really doing it for him he didnt know why or care in all honesty he just wanted more of you.
"No, no theres no need for that. We can sort this out between us no need for the governors or press. Mr Wayne is there anything you'd like to add." he said trying hard to wrap up this meeting. You looked at Bruce who frankly you forgot was even there he shook his head looking strange, shifting in his chair uncomfortably.
"I think Miss Cooke summed everything up wounderfully, and she has my full support sort out these kids, I know that they have been causing Damien problems name calling getting him in trouble such and he has said the teacher dosn't do anything about it. I wont stand for it any more , if its not sorted out by the end of the week I will bring Miss Cooke with me and we will speak to the school bored in person." You let out a breath you didnt know you was holding relief flooded you as he said this slightly worried that he'd throw you under the bus. He locked eyes with you his pupils were blown wide and he was breathing heavy he winked subtly, you flushed looking back to the man behind the desk as he cleared his throat.
"Right well I will see to it personally and it will be sorted by the end of the week, you both seem to have concerns with Jack and Damien's teacher so as of tomorrow I will have them moved into another class whilst I investigate. I will phone you both up to check in with the boys I'm terribly sorry that it has been left this long." he stood motioning for you both to do the same ending with.
"The boys can leave early today while I deal with this." Bruce opened the door letting you through growling as the principle made a point to oogle your ass as you left, quickly standing between you blocking his veiw of you he glared at the fat prick his message was clear. That hot little spitfire is mine so back off. He stared down at him chest puffed out standing taller and broarder intimidating the little weasel until he looked away. Bruce smirked then left the office slamming the door behind him finding you explaining to the boys what was happening, joining you as they stood up getting there bags .
"you boys go out and wait by the car while we sign out at the front." Bruce instructed they nodded running ahead to the school enterance.
"The car?" you asked looked up at him shyly
"Yes i will give you both a lift" he said leaving no room for argument. You thanked him then spoke quietly looking down trying not to freak out as he stood closer then you thought was neccasary.
"Thank you for sticking up for me in there, I dont usually get like that but you know I get a bit protective." he chuckled at you showing off a brilliant smile
"Its no problem, to be honest I found the whole mama bear thing very sexy your lucky we we'rnt alone" he said winking you blushed
"Wh-what? sh-shut up" you squeeked out he shook his head at you as he put an arm out over you holding the doors to main reception you thanked him queitly skipping through feeling small catching yourself breathing deeper to smell more of his fresh scented cologne.
"No I'm serious any where else and well" he wiggled his brows at you making you giggle
"and the way you are with damien?ive never seen him like that" he asked trailing off
"Yes well he is a sweet kid, he comes over quiet a bit as you know Alfred drops him off and the boys go off doing their thing, just sort of started to mother him a bit sorry" he smirked at you
"Well if I'd known how stunning you were it'd be me dropping him off. And dont apologize I'm not mad just a bit jealous. Tho not for long" he said handing his pass to the snooty receptionist who gave him bedroom eyes before glaring at you for keeping his attention.
"J-jealous? of Damien why?" you stuttered then bit your lip blushing. He groaned the site of it as he throbbed agin nearly cumming as his cock rubbed harshly agains the soft cotton of his boxers, he just couldnt control it. oh he was definatly gonna have you for himself, somehow you turned him into a horny teenager all over again.
"Well he got to have all your attention earlier, hurts a mans pride when his son can capture a beautiful woman's attention and he cant." you looked away from him giving your pass to the secatary who snatched it with a snarl.
"Im hoping you'd show some mercy and come out for lunch with me?" you gasped snapping your gaze at him.
"Wh-what you mean to talk about the school?"
"No as in a date" he explained you froze feeling butterflies in your tummy looking at the gorgeous man.
"Date? now? like right now?" he nodded smirking thoroughly enjoying you being so flustered.
"yes now I dont have anything else planned for today." you gulped when he gave you a heated look you felt like a meal taking a step back
" I'd love to but I have to clean up Jack and-." you began your excuse only for him to cut you short.
"Nonsense he can come to the manor and spend the day with Damien, Alfred is a good nurse he will patch them up." you blinked trying to think of another reason as he stood staring you down at you waiting to for to decide feeling like a deer in the head lights you realized this alpha of a man wasn't going to give you much of a choice.
"O-ok if your sure alfred wouldn't mind watching him." you nodded shyly Bruce gave a triumphant smirk and threw an arm across your shoulders tucking you against him walking to the main doors.
"Alfred wont mind watching the boys." you both walked outside to the boys Damien sighed at his dad before Jack spoke up.
"Told you he was looking at her ass"
"JACK! He was not!" you screeched at him damien laughed and bruce unlocked the range rover
"I thought I was being subtle about it" you gaped at him speechless as he opened the passenger door the boys gagged getting in the back. You got in the car pouting to yourselfand Bruce climbed in.
"Fucking hell I've never seen her speechless, how'd you do that?" Jack said Damien scoffed
"Dad just keep your boner in your pants until were out of the way."
"Yer shes my sister dont need to see her sucking face." You blushed trying to shush the boys
"DAMIEN! He does not have a boner!"
"Uh yer he does look."You tired not to look you really did but it just sort of happend you squeeked covering your mouth faceing forward and jumped as bruce leant over buckling your seat belt whispering in your ear.
"I did tell you the mama bear was sexy" puljng away he spoke to the boys
"Dont worry boys, we will behave until your out of ear shot" You gapped as they cringed with cries of 'ew dad no' and 'come on thats my sister' he laughed at them patting your thigh before pulling out of the school
"So you asked her on a date yet Dad?" Bruce raised and eye brom looking at him in the rear view mirror pulling out onto the main road.
"Well we are dropping you both off at the manor does that answer your question?"
Jack groaned not sure if he likes the idea of his sister dating his best friends dad.
"dont you hurt her Mr Wayne I know where you live" you smiled at that finding it cute him trying to be the protective little man. The drive was quiet for a while before jack piped up.
"Holy shit if they get married I'd be your uncle" you groaned holding you face in your hands bruce only laughed
"Jack its one lunch date jesus"
".....Can I walk you down the isle?"
"JACK?!"
"What she means is well cross that bridge when we come to it" you stared at Bruce as he smirked enjoying teasing you the boys snickered in the back. You sat back wondering just what you'd gotten youself into.
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bee, love, don’t apologise, please, it’s okay, and first and foremost, are you alright?? i hope you’re taking care of yourself, love, but i understand, i don’t think there’s been a year since third grade that i haven’t gotten pneumonia in the winter. I hope you’re feeling alright!!
honestly, dead poets society is one of my only personality traits anymore, i find myself drawing parallels to it constantly, for no reason but i love thinking about it. i’ve watched it so many times at this point, it’s,,, concerning. those tests always take me way less time than they give me, and i used to feel really awkward, i remember i took a bio one once, four hours they gave me, 45 minutes in, i was finished, and the moderator didn’t believe me. i aced it too, like the silly little neil kinnie i am. i’ve gotten used to the ‘worse’ side of being a neil kinnie, and honestly, now that my mum isn’t as controlling about everything as she used to be, it’s easier to deal with. i remember once, i’d gotten an 89 in algebra, and she threatened to pull me out of the fall show. that was a neil perry moment if i ever had one lol. the biggest thing these days is just imposter syndrome, imposter syndrome like oh you’re not hispanic enough, but also, you’re not queer enough, nonbinary enough, things like that. It’s exacerbated some days, but i try.
i watched the it movies on my cousin’s hbo,,, i may or may not have used it without her permission since she forgot to log out of my computer, but that’s neither here nor there. i remember having such a hard time taking the first one seriously initially, because of all the new kids on the block jokes, having a mum who was obsessed with them made it hard, especially when i actually got them all- in truth, the only midnight premiere i’ve been able to make was the force awakens, and i had school the next day too. i’m definitely a richie kinnie, and i have the internalised homophobia (only towards myself though) to prove it /hj my waterbottle has both a sticker of neil on it and a sticker of the r + e carving on it. in case there was any doubt about me lmao. stan kin makes sense for you, honestly, i can see it, i can see it.
okay so listen- no really, i’d bought them with the intention of only drinking half of one that night and spreading them out like that, but then came 9:45pm, and i had a research paper (on womens’ pockets/lack thereof) due at 10am that i simply hadn’t even started, so i downed them all in an hour and got the paper turned in at 5:56 in the morning. but i scare you huh? /hj bee, you’re too sweet, in truth, i’m fairly inelegant, but i try, as for the comforting and cosy, i’ll take you at your word, since that is something only someone interacting with me could discern. i do try to be kind to others for the most part. mainly i think because i’m usually on the other end of mean people.
i’m just perceptive like that bee, i dunno what to tell you, something just tells me, you know? /j and thank you, i always feel a little silly talking about it, because most of the tattoos i want are dead poets society tattoos, i guess some part of me, within the part of me that feels so incredibly tied to it, feels as if if i were able to get a tattoo i’d owe it to the movie in some way, if that makes any sense. i’ve already begged a friend of mine to go with me to get my first once i get to new york, the question though, is what to get first. i’ve got time to make a decision (for once in my life) i just spend a lot of time thinking about it.
honestly, i have never known a school rule to make sense. banning ripped jeans? banning dyed hair? it’s almost as if if they don’t stifle everything natural about kids expressing themselves they dont feel like they’re doing anything. but i digress. the same-sex couple rules were. awful. 12 year old me had enough going on without having an administrator yell at my friend and i for hugging in the courtyard and not leaving until we were a foot apart, but hey.
okay, jumping over a fence to go to a mcdonalds? how coming of age indie movie manic pixie dream girl of you /hj
200k words, is that a challenge? also ahaha not at all like my italian uncle up there just opened a ‘pizzeria’ /hj but mob!star au? might be a project i should start… granted, i’m not as good a storyteller as you, but i can try.
when i was little, i wanted to revolutionise things, i guess. i even actually wrote out a campaign, i wonder if its still somewhere. thank you for believing in me, but these days, bee, i’m thinking less about changing the world, and more about making it the next few weeks, and then the ones after that. little star was aware of so much, but also so little. i wonder what they’d think of me now, honestly.
i did, in fact, teach archery, it was so fun but my arms got SO SORE, and the kid who challenged my archery skills seemed surprised when i actually,, hit the bullseyes. my inner susan was happy then. incidentally the experience is also why i made a playlist called “touchstarved and wanting to teach you to shoot a bow” which low-key slaps when i’m lonely. and bee omg i cannot believe you said im better than susan pevensie i will be thinking about this for the rest of my life thank you- and yes, yes it was named aslan, however did you guess? /j prince caspian<33333
i’ll let you know my results from the tournament, as soon as they come out, and i say this having just put on pjs after taking off my suit, and sitting in the room with my cat in my dear evan hansen hoodie, frantically refreshing the results page because i’m anxious and impatient.
i hope you have a good night, with fitful and restful sleep, i’m sorry this got to be so long, but you know me, i certainly can talk. i’m honestly shocked i even made it to finals, considering i was running off four hours of sleep, having gone to bed at three last night. whoops.
all my love, hugs, and a warm mug of tea,
yours,
star✨
p.s i said yes so that?? happened?? it honestly feels surreal but we’re not gonna be in the same place anymore come the end of this year, so that’ll be something to deal with
P.p.s might just start adding spanish or latin or russian phrases to these if i keep having to translate your cute french bee /lh /hj
star my love, i know you said don't apologise, but i think the word 'sorry' makes up about 60% of my vocabulary. i'm okay!! was just a bit icky, but luckily i've recovered now!!
that's so nice - and again, makes so much sense for you. i think you would work perfectly in welton, i know it. i love bringing the messages from that film into my own life, as silly as it may sound. i'm astonished, and so fucking jealous of you. i used to finish tests maybe half an hour early, but hours is so impressive??? fun fact i did finish my physics final in about 45 minutes and slept for the other hour <3 neil would b proud my love!!! oh my god - i'm so sorry that happened??? but that is also so neil kinnie??? it seems futile me saying this, but i assure you that you are hispanic enough, and queer enough, and non-binary enough. you are enough, period. more than enough even. imposter syndrome is the worst, and i'm so so sorry you're dealing with it.
she did that to herself, you just saw an opportunity /lh a midnight premiere of the force awakens sounds so cute though omg - i hope you had the absolute best time. the r + e carving actually broke me. as a die hard reddie shipper since 2017, seeing the movie make it basically canon?! had me a mess in the cinema.
you are ridiculously comforting and cosy, everything about you feels like a warm hug from a familiar face and i love it. and the way you write is so smooth, it makes me think of a quill smoothly gliding across parchment, the deep black ink unsmudged and pristine. that seems a little pretentious of me, but oh well.
i also want some dps tattoos!! i desperately want "and still we sleep" from todd's poem, and was also so so tempted to get an outline drawing of meeks + pitts dancing on the roof. i love that, and i can't wait until the day you get it, whichever one it may be. my one concern is becoming addicted to them and making my bank account suffer - at least my piercing obsession is a little easier to fund /hj
i've NEVER gotten that - they claim it's 'distracting' but how on earth would it be?? when i got to college, no one was distracted by my dyed hair, and i certainly wasn't distracted by other people's outfits or painted nails. you were yelled at. for hugging. a friend.. what the fuck is wrong with these people??
just call me ramona flowers star /j it was possibly the highlight of my school career, sans hiding in the back room of the music room to avoid a maths test
i bet you're an amazing storyteller, if these letters are anything to go by. it would be a new york times best seller, i know it
we all have to take things one step at a time, i think. that's the only way i really get through things if i'm honest. one day after another and the cycle repeats. i love wondering what young me would think of me now - i'd probably be intimidated of myself, but i like to think i'd be proud that i'm still here, pursuing something i love
that playlist. sounds nothing short of sheer perfection. i too am touch starved and want to teach someone to shoot a bow - even though i.. cannot shoot a bow... but i can wield a sword so, it's close enough.
i saw your message about the tournament results - im so fucking proud of you!!!! you deserve it so so much and i couldn't be happier for you. see, your words and ideas are changing the world, even if you don't realise it.
ps; that is so fun???? omg im so happy for you star, you deserve tis <33 i hope towards the end of this year whatever happens leaves you both happy, no matter how far the distance.
pps; omg no.. please don't do that.. aha that would be awful... definitely wouldn't make my heart race.. haha not at all
all of my love, star. pardon the pun, but you are out of this world ;) i'll leave you with one of my favourite quotes;
il n'y a qu'un bonheur dans la vie, c'est d'aimer et d'être aimé <3
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good vibez only
Perhaps it’s not in like, the festive spirit or whatever, but Dex refuses to feel shame in reactivating and skimming through his array of dating apps the second his flight gets delayed.
nursey/dex, tindering in an airport au, 1.6k. For @ellienchanted! thanks for the help with this and happy new year :D on ao3
Perhaps it’s not in like, the festive spirit or whatever, but Dex refuses to feel shame in reactivating and skimming through his array of dating apps the second his flight back to New York gets delayed. What else is he going to do? Read a book? Talk to the people around him? Not likely.
And like, he’s just maybe been feeling slightly more desperately alone than usual, after the holiday period spent with family. His parents were his parents and even his shithead brother had been lovey-dovey with his admittedly very nice girlfriend, not to even mention the bloodbath that was social media.
It’s only midday on New Year’s Eve, but Dex can sense in his old-man bones that it’s already ramping back up again after a few days of quiet after Christmas. Picturesque, loving content as far as a guy can scroll, most likely.
Not that Dex is bitter. He has friends, has love in his life and shit. He’s on his way home to show his face at Ford's party, after all. Except the plan is to prove he didn’t die en route, get smashed as efficiently as possible, then probably get kissed platonically by six people at midnight because his friends are like that, before ultimately heading home alone and passing out alone.
Dex is, in short, just acutely fucking aware of his singleness right now.
In the heart sense and in the dick sense, unfortunately. Whatever. He’s got a few boring hours stretching ahead of him; even if he doesn’t match with or message any of the many dudes he can swipe through, at least a good twenty percent of them are hot enough to pause for a whole second.
One guy, after some fifteen minutes of mindless, semi-horny swiping, warrants more time than that.
He has a tattoo. It wraps around his very nice bicep and Dex’s mouth goes dry. His name is Derek, and he has a couple shirtless pics, a hockey one, a few ones Dex figures are trying to convey culture – museums and art and like, sweeping landscapes – and ends it with a meme.
Which is like. It’s kind of funny, and this dude is super hot, but really? But also he is so, so hot. In like, a hot way, and in a beautiful way, so Dex can at least entertain the idea of their boning. Then Dex reads Derek’s bio:
‘what i want is what i’ve always wanted. what i want is to be changed.’
im pretty and my meat is huge. good vibez only, no haters ✌️
Dex doesn’t smile a little. He doesn’t. He definitely just rolls his eyes hard and swipes left. That quote. He doesn’t have the patience, not even for someone that looks like that.
“Ouch,” says a voice from over his shoulder. “Hard no for that one?”
Because of course, because his flight is delayed and the drive to the airport had been shit anyway, because of course – it’s the dude. He’s not just nearby, he’s literally right there. Derek. Sitting in the row of seats backed up against Dex’s, twisted round to watch over Dex’s shoulder in a flagrant disregard of like, normal fucking behaviour, and somehow even hotter in the gross airport lighting. He’s doing some kind of smirk thing that Dex isn’t into at all.
His voice is like– It’s nice. Dude has a nice voice.
And of course, instinctively, result of being a grumpy fuck since birth and years in the big city, Dex’s immediate response is, “Fuck off, asshole.” Then, back up instinct, result of his mom’s loving care and years in a small town, he adds, “Shit, sorry, that was- I didn’t mean- um.”
Derek’s smirk solidifies. Something natural rather than an expression he’s holding there, not that Dex would’ve recognised it wasn’t completely assured and legit until then. “No worries, man. It’s chill. Sexy pic with the lobster, though.”
-
Nursey absolutely, completely, fucking two thousand percent should not have said anything. He’d almost be surprised at himself, watching this whole thing happen out of body, except this is the least surprising behaviour from him ever. Like he’s ever been able to let a minor hurt pass without poking at it until it’s something unbearable and he has to nope out like that’d been his plan all along.
Whatever. It’s chill. He’s got this. They’re in an airport, so Nursey can nope out whenever he likes, and more effectively than usual. It’s going to be fun.
“Excuse me?” says Will.
Will, who Nursey had first noticed for his massive ears and exhausted vibes, then absently clocked as attractive, and then clocked some minutes later as the same dude whose profile he’d just come across. Will who Nursey had just swiped right on, though not before screencapping his profile and sending it to Chowder, captioned ‘a straight???’
Like. Okay. Nursey doesn’t want to stereotype, or whatever, tries really hard not to, but when a dude sees a bio like I'm Will. I like hockey and lobster-fishing and good beer. We should get to know each other? He's not proud of it but questions start arising.
“Sexy pic with the lobster,” Nursey repeats. It had been, honestly, in a kind of weird display-of-masculinity way that Nursey doesn’t want to unpack right then but definitely would with some weed.
“Thank you?” says Will. A pause. “Are you making fun of me?”
“No,” Nursey replies honestly. But that feels like some kind of defeat, because this guy is cute and freckly and like, certainly has hands, but he also just dismissed Nursey’s careful construction of self while Nursey watched, so he continues, “I mean, I’m a vegetarian? So I kind of do disagree with the concept of trapping and killing an innocent animal for your own consumption, or whatever.”
Will snorts. “Of course.”
Nursey’s stomach sinks. He should’ve known. Pretty eyes or not, it wasn’t going to be fun with a guy who is a self-proclaimed hockey and good beer fan. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing,” says Will.
Nursey doesn’t want to get into a full-blown argument in the middle of an airport, so he lets it drop. But he also doesn’t want to sit here in awkward silence or have to get up and haul all his shit over to somewhere else. “So, while we're both sitting here, any pointers for improvement?” he asks instead.
“What?”
“For my profile, dude. Gotta up my game, clearly.”
"Why?"
"Self-improvement is my new year's resolution," Nursey replies easily, only half-lying; it's been his new year's resolution for like, five years straight, whatever. "I'll start: you need a better bio, or just scrap the whole thing. You're just about cute enough to pull it off, but it does you zero favours, dude. Bland as fuck."
Will goes pale, then red, then says, "What the fuck? Who asked?" Nursey waits, unsure if he should keep pushing or if he's maybe crossed a line, and after a long moment or two Will sighs. “Okay, fine, I hate doing description things and I'm shit at it. But yours also sucks. You could try with less of the pretentious quote shit, for one thing.”
“Less Mary Szybist?” Nursey asks, only having to up his aghastness a little. “Mine does not suck. I’m trying to convey an inner sensitivity, bro. Poetry is a window to the soul.”
Will frowns. “I thought that was eyes.”
His frown is cute. Shit. “First, a little thing called poetic license? Second, you said I was pretentious.”
“It’s Shakespeare,” Will says, unimpressed. “You didn’t do Shakespeare in high school?”
“Sure,” Nursey agrees, “but clearly it didn’t stick,” which is a lie. “Haiku, though. That’s the good shit.”
“What?”
“In my bio. It’s a haiku, five-seven-five syllables?”
Will visibly goes through Nursey’s bio, mouthing out the words, which, hey. It left an impression, at least. “That’s not five-seven-five,” he says.
“I’m pretty and my / meat is huge. Chill vibez only / no haters. Peace sign,” Nursey recites easily, clapping the syllables out like they taught in elementary school.
Will snorts out a laugh and can’t quite seem to reign his face back into looking unimpressed. Nursey smiles back and can’t quite reign that in either. The bitterness from watching Will swipe past him seeps almost entirely away at last, Nursey finally able to unfold his arm from around his stomach; Will’s shoulders come down from around his ears, too.
“Um. I did actually like your photos,” he says after a moment, almost hesitant, those same ears flaming. “Like, a lot."
"Ditto," says Nursey, as casual as he can. Will is pretty great in pics, if unfortunately blind to his angles, and even better plus assholeish irl, which is a beauty of a combination.
"But you’re cheating your syllables with that peace sign bit, pretty sure,” Will adds.
Nursey rolls his eyes, ignores the warm glow. Not a straight, definitely. And Will thinks his pics are good, at least, which is a success of sorts. He doesn't know what flight Will is getting, but his own back to NYC has been delayed by a few hours, so maybe he should try and shoot his shot one last time.
He chucks his stuff over to Will's side of the chair-row, then hauls himself over. Pulls his sweater back down. Fuck this twisting around in his seat nonsense.
Will blinks, face pink. "Hi," he says, a little hoarse.
“I think you mean bye. I said no haters, didn't I?”
Will laughs again, full and warm this time. “Fuck off, asshole,” he says, and this time Nursey laughs with him.
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meri pyaari tony
okay so @iam93percentstardust got me rly excited about this new au and even though im never going to write it i just wanna write a lil so enjoy everybody!! (hopefully this will clear up what i meant by not a happy ending but also not an unhappy ending)
//
The phone rings once, twice before it cuts off, and James’ back stiffens.
On the table, his mother’s fingers have stilled - frozen in the action of pushing the birthday card for his 10 year old nephew into an envelope.
The phone rings again, just twice, long enough to be unmistakable but too short to actually answer.
He looks out to the heaving rain, and without even thinking of reaching for an umbrella, he’s already sprinting across the grounds of his house, uncaring of how soaked he’s getting as he pushes himself up and over the gate of the neighbouring house and into the attic.
In the molten, rusty room, on top of an old suitcase that he’s seen Tony sit on countless times with his feet swinging off the ground - is a 6 year old boy; fiddling with the buttons of his jacket.
James runs his hands across his face, wiping off the water that’s collected in the creases of his forehead, and walks over to the kid.
He must look a state to the kid, sopping wet and uncharacteristically happy despite said dampness, but he can’t bring himself to care.
“I’m really hungry,” he says to the boy, grinning, “do you think I can borrow one of your fingers to eat?”
Instinctively, the boy puts his hands behind his back, shaking his head fervently and James pouts, “not even the one? You have 10!”
The kid is saved from answering from a call of “Peter!” ringing outside the attic, and James turns, watching Tony fumble with closing an umbrella and he pushes into the attic.
Its a scene that James has imagined a thousand times over, watching Tony meet him in the attic where their childhood selves because friends all those years ago - and yet his imagination somehow didn’t do justice to the scene in front of him.
It takes Tony a couple of seconds to realise that James is there, and his face splits into a hesitant smile thats over-run with a frown when the kid barrels into his leg.
Tony runs his finger through the kid’s hair, “go find your Papa Peter - I’ll be down in a couple of seconds”
He waits until the kid’s disappeared down the stairs to turn back to James, “so, are you guys bestfriends yet?”
“No,” James says, smiling that private smile he’d reserved for Tony, “but you know me - I grow on people”
“Its good to see you Rhodey,” Tony says, and its only the fact that he’s carrying his bodyweight in water while Tony is wearing an expensive suit that keeps him from crossing the room and wrapping his arms around Tony.
“I forget,” Tony says, settling down on the suitcase his son vacated, “was it 2 rings or 3 rings? Our emergency code?”
“2,” Rhodey says, lifting up his fingers, “but then again - everything was an emergency for you so we never had any other code”
“Dad told me you’d stopped by,” Tony says, “didn’t realise you cared so much about this old dump”
Rhodey chooses not to answer that, “So you’re finally taking Major Stark to your house huh? Took you long enough”
“I know,” Tony huffs, “we’ll be at each other’s throats by the end of the week, but what can you do?”
Tony gestures around the attic vaguely, “I wanted to give Peter a chance to see this house before he sold it though - let him see where his Dad grew up”
“Peter?” Rhodey raises an eyebrow, “like Peter Pan? And here I thought your child would have one of those weird names with an unnecessarily pretentious pronunciation”
Tony raises his hand to swat at Rhodey, and for a second its just like old times.
Rhodey settles down next to him, shoving him with his hip until Tony shifts enough to make space on the suitcase for him.
“Do you know how long I’ve waited for this moment?” Rhodey says softly, “I’ve imagined it 1000 times over. ‘Course, in my version you were in distinctly less clothing, on your knees begging for forgiveness while an epic revenge tune played in the background”
Tony chuckles, eyes crinkling into familiar crow’s feet, and Rhodey thinks that for all the years he spent hating Tony - nothing can compare to the decades he spent loving him.
“So, New York Best Seller Writer huh? You finally did it Rhodey,” Tony leans in with a conspiratorial look on his face, “I walked out on you way too early”
you shouldn’t have walked out on me at all, Rhodey thinks, but this isn’t the right time for that conversation.
(he wonders if there ever will be a right time for that conversation)
Instead, Rhodey asks, “have you read any of them?” and Tony scoffs, “have you met me?”
“I can barely get through the first couple of pages of essential stuff like manuals, do I look like I can read?”
“That being said,” Tony says, “with a cover that says The Wild Washerwoman will wash you away, and - fuck what was the other one?” he scrunches up his nose in thought, “Tricycle - it will puncture your life, how could I resist?”
It warms something dead inside Rhodey that Tony reads his books, that Tony knows them well enough to recite the gaudy catchphrases his PR team used to sell them.
“Yuck man,” Tony says, “honestly how far have you fallen for a couple of sales. I gotta say though, extremely entertaining”
“Yeah well,” Rhodey shrugs, “horror is easy. I’ve been trying to write a love story for the past three years now and I’m not sure how to end it”
the why goes unspoken, hanging in the air and making the room thick with tension.
Tony reaches out and cups his cheek, and it takes everything in Rhodey to not lean into it.
“you’ll finish it,” Tony says softly, “You’re my Rhodey - ‘course you’ll finish it”
Rhodey pushes off his seat suddenly, making it half way to the door before he remembers to turn around and tell Tony to “stay put, don’t move I’ll be right back”
And he runs through the rain again, ignoring the shouts of his father and his manager to grab the manuscript on his bed.
He pushes it under his jacket roughly and runs back, where Tony is still sitting on the old suitcase - legs dangling just above the floor.
He puts the manuscript in between his hands, and says in one short breath, “read it”
and so Tony does - though he does flip through large portions of the book and crucial plot points.
Its okay though, because Tony lived through those moments, so he’s allowed to embellish and skip to the end.
When he flips the last page and looks back up at Rhodey, there’s tears in his eyes - but Rhodey’s known him long enough to know that these are happy tears
“This is your version Rhodeybear,” Tony says, “mine would be a little different”
Rhodey shrugs delicately, thinking about the night he tore through 10 pages trying to get that final last first kiss right, “a happy ending sells right? Why - what would be different in your version?”
“Does it matter?” Tony’s voice is wet, “I like your version better”
“But you found your Mr Right,” Rhodey says matter of factly, and Tony just shakes his head, “more like Mr Right place right time”
“But,” Tony wipes away the stray tear on his cheek, “he gave me Peter so I can’t complain. You should see me as a dad platypus, it’s like I was made for this role. Being a dad, thats the one thing I’m not a disaster at”
Tony holds out the manuscript, but Rhodey pushes it back gently shaking his head, “I don’t want anyone else reading this. Not my manager, not your husband, nobody else. The story in those pages, that’s ours, just ours.”
Tony leans up and presses a soft kiss on Rhodey’s cheek, featherlight but its what makes Rhodey reach out and say.
“I can still take you away if you want. Just say the word and I’ll carry you over my shoulder - away from all of this”
Tony opens his mouth to reply, but he’s cut off by Peter barrelling in, making grabby arms at his father.
Tony hefts up his son, arm caught around Peter’s waist and he looks at Rhodey with a mixture of nostalgia and regret, “I think I might be a bit too heavy for you now honeybear”
Tony leans in and rubs his nose against Peter’s cheek and in Rhodey’s mind, he’s right there with Tony - arms around the two most important boys in his life.
But in reality, there’s a distance between them, a space that try as he might, Rhodey can’t cross.
For the first time in almost 5 years, that doesn’t make him sad anymore.
you should see me as a dad platypus, Tony had said, and Rhodey’s seeing it now.
Oddly, it doesn’t hurt quite as much as he always thought it would.
“We have a party to get to right?” Tony says finally, setting Peter down so that they can walk down the stairs, “your nephew’s 10th birthday is it?”
The rain hasn’t let up, but in all fairness to his family - neither has the party because Rhodey and Tony make their way down to see a gaggle of uncles and aunts dancing in the grounds anyway, music coming from a speaker hidden away safely from the porch.
Peter runs across the field to a man with blue eyes and blond hair, who instantly bend down and picks him up - spinning him around and smiling when Peter shrieks about how wet he’s getting.
“One dance?” Rhodey asks, extending his hand out to Tony, “for old time’s sake?”
The look that Tony sends his way cannot be described as anything but pure adoration when he accepts Rhodey’s hand, giggling when Rhodey uses the momentum to pull him in close to his chest and snag an arm around his waist.
He’s consciously aware of the weight of the metal band around Tony’s finger pressing into his as they sway to the music, but it doesn’t bother him anymore.
To the rest of the world, he’s always be a Mr someone - but to Rhodey, he has and forever will be, his very first love, Tony.
Fin
#my writing#rhodeytony#ironhusbands#meri pyaari bindu au#bollywood but make it gay#meri pyaari tony#they're in love#but its not enough#and thats OKAY#because tony found someone who made him happy#and rhodey flourished in his career#and they have this bond that nobody can ever break#and they got their happy ending even if it wasn't with each other#also the distinction between james and rhodey#is cuz to the rest of the world he's james#but to tony - he's rhodey
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Day Two: Swap
Normal high school AU where Baz is new to Simon’s English class but Penny is the one that gets assigned a seat next to Baz. Aka English nerds in love.
Words: 3457
Note: this is unedited and super rushed but its something!
No warnings apart from a lot of swearing. Enjoy!
_____
SIMON
“Alright so I posted the seating plan on the class page, did everyone get a chance to see it?”
While everyone scrambles to look at their laptops, I’ve already seen Ms. Possibelf’s seating plan and can I just say… What. The. Fuck. She’s sat me across the room from Penny (honestly fair since we never get any work done) next to some random girl named Trixie; she seems nice enough but so bloody boring. How am I supposed to make it through a whole year of English without Penny? I can hear the complaints layering up in the tiny classroom and I can see the teacher ignoring every single one of them. I don’t think I’ll bother asking for a change. Though, maybe she’ll listen to Penny?
I nudge Penny’s arm, I guess she’s already seen the seating plan too because she makes no effort to look at her laptop and moves towards her assigned seat.
“Surely the fuck not?” I don’t bother whispering.
“I think you mean surely the fuck yes. I’m not failing this semester because you want to tell me a gross story about your arms smelling like Cheetos mid class.” I’m smirking and she looks like she’ll bite my head off. That makes me smile more.
“That was once!”
“It still happened, and I’d rather hear about your smelly limbs at lunch time - or better yet, never.”
We’re cut off by Ms. Possibelf starting the class, or at least trying to.
“You should’ve all written a draft of your persuasive orals over the holidays, now you must refine them and prepare a final copy. These will be presented in two days.”
Okay as much as I’m a clown in English, I’m actually decent at it. I’ve already written and edited my script, so I really have nothing to do. I sit in my seat and glance at Penny, it looks like she’s done too. I’m fairly sure she’s playing fire boy and water girl, she’s playing both parts (because I’m not there) and she’s taking up the entire table, her desk mate looks so uncomfortable squashed into a corner. Who is he, by the way? The name on the roll was Tyrannus, what the fuck kind of name is that? So pretentious.
I open up Instagram on my laptop and text Penny.
Penelope Bunce – Simon Snow
Simon Snow [10:04]: who is heeeeeee
Penelope Bunce [10:04]: who?
Simon Snow [10:04]: the guy ur sat next to whats his name?????
Penelope Bunce [10:05]: got a bit of crush huh :0
Simon Snow [10:05]: oh fk off I haven’t even seen his face,,, whats his name??
Penelope Bunce [10:06]: he said to call him baz
Simon Snow [10:07]: hmm weird but cool name
Simon Snow [10:07]: what schools he frm?
Penelope Bunce [10:07]: idk do ur work Si
Penny stops typing, she looks me in the eyes then turns to speak to Baz, shutting her laptop. That’s such an odd name, right?
They talk, she’s laughing, he’s just sitting there so composed. He doesn’t look bored exactly, just that he’s better than seeming overly excited. Dickhead it is then.
Even though I think I’ve already decided I hate him, I don’t stop looking at them. He’s got long hair, its black and loose just above his shoulder, his skin is this gorgeous caramel that doesn’t need tanning and his eyes, they’re so grey a mix of green and blue I think and – fuck. We’re making eye-contact, not in like oh oops, more like oh shit why is this guy staring at me. He must think I’m a fucking creep. Shit.
It’s not like I care though, he probably thinks he’s better than everyone in this room anyway. But he’s just smiling at me? Fuck that’s a good smile. I think I’m smiling back, I can’t help it. He turns back to speak to Penny, they seem like they’re in deep discussion about something, I wonder what? And suddenly, I catch myself wishing I was her. Um, what?
The rest of the period flies by. Too quick, I think, not that I need more time to work, I just kind of wish… whatever.
Penny, as per bloody usual, is taking her precious time packing her stuff away. I walk up to her table, hyper aware of Baz’s presence there,
“Planning on leaving anytime soon?” I ask, trying to seem as nonchalant as can be, but my eyes keep glancing to him. I think Penny must’ve picked up on it because then she says, all smug,
“But then you wouldn’t get to meet Baz,” she gestures to Baz, who’s raising his eyebrow and smiling a little against his better judgement I think, then she gestures to me and then back again, “Baz, Simon. Simon, Baz. There we go.” He’s full on smiling now. Fuck, how can someone be so pretty?
“So nice to meet you, I’m Baz Pitch.” He puts his hand out for me to shake it – that’s so proper. I’m not even convinced he’s 17. He’s so calm and put together, these are not words you use to describe a 17 year old guy.
“H-hey, yeah, Simon.” Of course, I trip over my words, I’ve always struggled with that but I’m also really fucking nervous for some reason.
“Do you wanna have lunch with us, Baz?” Penny’s throwing her bag over her shoulder, looking at me like she knows what she’s doing to me and then back to Baz with genuine eyes. Penny doesn’t usually get on with people like that, that’s why we’ve been friends for so long, she really doesn’t have other options (not like I do either).
“That’d be nice.” He says, the corner of his mouth inching up, giving his cool exterior away. He’s not a pretentious git, is he? He’s just a boy on his first day of school; that’s fucking daunting.
We walk out the classroom – finally – and Baz starts telling us about himself and his old school. Mainly just answering Penny’s questions. Does he have siblings? Yeah, four half siblings. How come he moved schools? dad moves a lot for business. Oh, is he going to be moving again? Probably not until after high school, by then I could move out anyway.
I’m not usually this quiet. Usually I’m more social than Penny. I don’t know what’s come over me, I wish I could be her right now.
Lunch happens, Baz doesn’t really eat. Not like I was watching him. Well he was sat right in front of me and I just noticed that he wasn’t eating anything. Surely that’s normal.
I finally ask Baz what other classes he’s taking; other than English we don’t share any classes and then I let myself say, “that sucks.” But only because its normal, its not flirting. You can want a friend to be in your class. Penny still looks at me anyway.
But then he says, “I’ll just have to look forward to English,” and my heart melts.
______
I try not to think about Baz right now, in bed, but I am anyway, and I remember him telling me his full name; so naturally I’m suddenly typing it into the Instagram search bar. Aha! He’s not on private, thank the gods of social media.
I start scrolling through his feed, careful not to tap anything of course. There are a few photos of him alone, they’re gorgeous; he dresses so nice. Penny says I can’t dress myself. In one photo from a month ago he’s in this incredible suit, taking a mirror selfie in a bathroom that looks nicer than my whole house. His hair is slicked back (I think I prefer it loose – still so bloody fit though) and his cheekbones are so defined, he’s got that same face he had when we first met today – eyebrows raised, little bit a smirk, beautiful eyes.
I scroll down to the next photo, this one is different. It’s not a hot mirror selfie, its him carrying a little girl – his little sister? – on his shoulders looking up at her with a smile, a real big smile. He’s dressed a bit more casual too, still nicer than anything I own though it’s just jeans and a black button down. I keep coming back to the jeans. How can someone look so good in jeans?
I scroll through a few more photos, some with friends, some more of just him and a few of books he’s reading or places he’s visited. I feel like I know him a little bit better now – less in a stalkerish way more in a… well I can’t think of the write word. I can never think of the write word.
My phone vibrates all of a sudden and I literally drop my phone, so I don’t accidently like anything.
Penelope Bunce – Simon Snow
Penelope Bunce [23:13]: up thinking bout prince charming?
Simon Snow [23:14]: shut up
Penelope Bunce [23:14]: don’t blame u he’s v cute.
Penelope Bunce [23:14]: And smart.
Penelope Bunce [23:14]: you have my blessing
Simon Snow [23:15]: bugger off,, as if he’s even into guys
Simon Snow [23:15]: I was literally such an idiot today he probs doesn’t even wanna be my friend
Penelope Bunce [23:16]: AHA SO U ADMIT IT
Simon Snow [23:16]: did I even have to
Penelope Bunce [23:16]: ofc not. For what its worth I think u have a shot.
Simon Snow [23:17]: sureeeee
Simon Snow [23:17]: fuckkkkk im gonna be so dead tomorrow,, gn love u
I turn my phone off, pull my glasses off chucking them somewhere I probably won’t find them tomorrow and roll over to fall asleep.
______
We’ve got English first period today. I don’t think I’ve ever been this excited for English, but then I remember I don’t even get to sit next to him.
I walk into class and he’s already in there, we make eye-contact – way less awkward than yesterday – and he gives me a nod. Its friendly, it’s nice, it’s already a bit familiar. I give him a little wave with my right hand below the books I’m carrying but then I’m nearly dropping then, and my laptop starts sliding through my arms. It’s a shit show and it’s too early in the morning to embarrass myself, but I don’t get a say do I? As a say good bye to my laptop that is threatening to smash in the ground any second now – and any possibility for anything with Baz – I hear a chair scraping at the floor then not being pushed in. Suddenly, Baz’s hand is on my shoulder; the other grabbing my laptop that’s basically just resting on my belt buckle at this point. I beg myself not to blush, not now.
Baz is laughing. We’ve – he’s – saved my laptop and now he’s carrying it and my books; he insisted I was not to be trusted.
“Alright, special delivery all the way to your seat. You sure you’re okay Snow?” He’s using my last name because he thinks it’s ‘such a waste to not make use of such an iconic surname’. I like the way it sounds on his lips. I think I just like his lips and anything after is automatically perfect. Perfect.
He taps my shoulder, “you okay there?”
“Huh? Yeah yeah, just a bit tired. Didn’t sleep very much last night.” That’s not a lie.
Baz nods and says he’s gonna go get started on the work, I watch him walk away. The school trousers, they’re no jeans but he looks good in everything.
I try to do some work, making cue cards for my presentation, but I keep letting myself look over to Baz. Penny just caught me and stuck her tongue out.
Penelope Bunce – Simon Snow
Penelope Bunce [08:31]: ur staring
Simon Snow [08:32]: am not,, go away
I go back to working on my cue cards after making a show of shutting my laptop in front of Penny. I get through two more cards before I see a pair of shoes approaching my table. I look up and sure enough its prince charming – I mean Baz. He clears his throat and says,
“I hear you’re good at English”
“There’s no way Penny said that,” I laugh.
“True, she said ‘he thinks he’s better than everyone else.’ But I take it for good reason.” He smiles while doing air quotes, I smile back at him because I can’t help myself.
“Well, I definitely don’t suck.”
“Good. Do you mind reading over my script, please? I feel like it needs a little bit of editing.” He hands over his laptop, “don’t drop this one okay?” he chuckles.
I honestly don’t know how to act around him. I’m the epitome of those ‘act normal’ memes. He hands me his laptop and I start reading. His presentation is on single use plastics and it is so well written, he definitely doesn’t need my help. My neck is getting warm and I hope I’m not blushing at a script on environmentalism just because it was written by a hot guy. That’s pathetic.
But he’s not just a hot guy, is he? He’s smart – so smart – and he’s so kind even if you wouldn’t think so; when he helped me with my books today, I couldn’t help but think back to that photo of him with his sister, so much warmth and kindness expertly hidden under a cool and calm facade. I get to the end of his conclusion and look up in awe but he’s standing just behind me leaning forward waiting for my response. That explains the warmth I was feeling.
Baz doesn’t seem like the kind that would ever doubt himself but if you could see him now, you’d think he cared about what everyone thought about everything; and maybe he does, maybe he just hides it really well.
“Baz.” I make eye-contact with him, finally on purpose, “this… its incredible. I don’t even know why you’d ask for feedback. Your arguments are excellent, and your use of inductive reasoning is really fitting.”
His face lights up, a kind of innocent smile creeps up on his face and for the first time I think I want to kiss him. But even more so, I want to be responsible for more of those smiles. “Really?”
“It’s perfect.”
I look away because I don’t want him to see me blush. Penny is looking straight at us, she gives me one of her reassuring smiles.
______
It’s been two weeks of school; all my classes suck but it’s our last year and soon enough we’ll miss it. At least that’s what Penny keeps saying, Baz agrees with her.
Baz has been spending more time with us; we hang out at lunch time, he’s joined us for frozen cokes a few times in the past few hot days. It’s nice. I can actually talk to him now too.
He’s so smart, smarter than I had thought. He’s not just academically smart, he knows more than just surface level knowledge. Yesterday, on our walk to English he was talking about some article he read on the relationship between sleep deprivation and blood alcohol concentration just for fun. Though its nerdy and just a bit lame, the way his eyes light up when he talks about things he cares about, I’d listen to the summary of a thousand dumb articles to see that again.
Right now, Baz isn’t here though, and all my brain can do is think about him.
“Pennyyyy!” she’s lying on my bed while I do my art homework on the floor, she always comes home with me on Tuesdays, I don’t know when that started.
“Si, I already said no like three times.”
“Why not? Do you not love me?” I asked her to swap seats with me in English. I just wanna sit next to Baz, I can say I need extra help or something.
“I love you of course but I don’t want Baz to think I’m avoiding him, and I certainly don’t want Ms. P to fail me for disobeying her one rule.”
“Just please.” I give her my best puppy eyes and pouty face, “I fink I’m in wuv,” I say mockingly. She
throws an old stuffed toy in my face. I guess that’s a no.
______
The next day I see Baz at the school gates, he’s holding a cup of coffee and his hair is up in a bun today. Flawless.
“Fancy seeing you here,” how can he look so perfect at eight in the morning. I don’t even feel awake yet.
Baz bumps my shoulder with his and we start walking to our lockers. We talk about the English reading we were set, we’re reading Lord of the Flies and Baz is going on about how he and Penny think the book would be drastically different if it had female characters.
“Golding said he didn’t add girls to avoid sex being a subject.” I say, and Baz just looks at me with his eyebrow raised. I call this the signature Baz look now.
“Oh, come on, as if every single kid on that island was straight.” I choke on nothing for a second. Baz and I have never talked about relationships or sex or sexuality. It’s not really a matter of discussion I guess but hearing him acknowledge the idea of guys being together, I don’t know, it gives me hope. That makes no sense obviously, he’s taking about characters from an English novel not himself and really its more an act of Baz’s resistance than it is a nod to gay rights or whatever. But, still, it gives me hope.
“True,” is all I manage to get out.
We get to English extra early after home room, and I start making my way to my seat. Ever since Baz started hanging out with us outside of class, English is back to being plain and boring, nothing special. So, with my shoulders slumped I mutter a goodbye to Baz as I walk to opposite way to my seat but then I feel something on my hand. Oh my god, its his hand. Its Baz’s hand. On my hand. Pulling me towards him. Its not especially romantic or anything. But its something!
“Hey! Swap seats with Penny, come sit next to me today,” surely this is a dream, I must’ve hit my head. “I need your uhhh help with the essay.” Baz doesn’t help, he just discussed key themes of the novel for breakfast. I feel it again, lingering in my chest, hope. “It’s okay if you don’t want to…” he says a bit quieter now, trying to seem as cool as possible. How Baz of him. Fuck I still haven’t said anything.
“What no no, I want to. I’m just not sure what Ms. Possibelf will say; or worse, Penny.” He pulls at my hand. He still hasn’t let go of my hand. He still hasn’t let go of my hand.
“What? Scared Snow?”
“We’re not in Harry Potter, Baz.”
“True. I’m wayyy better looking than Draco Malfoy and you wouldn’t be a very good chosen one. The worst chosen one who’s ever been chosen.”
I hear myself saying, “what so I’m not more better looking than Harry Potter?” Is this flirting? He squeezes my hand. He still hasn’t let go of my hand.
“You needed me to point that out? I thought it was a given. You’re well fit, Simon.” Simon. Hope.
I hum in response and with one final tug at my hand, he lets it go. I follow him (I’d follow him anywhere).
“Sit, I won’t bite,” He grins at me.
“Yeah but Penny will,” she better not ruin this for me. For us. I sit next to Baz and we start working on our essays. He doesn’t ask for help once.
Penny walks into class, glances at her seat, sees us and walks to my – her – seat next to Trixie.
Penelope Bunce – Simon Snow
Penelope Bunce [08:14]: u win. Enjoy!
I can’t tell if that’s sarcastic or not.
Baz notices I’ve changed my window to Instagram DMs and nudges me, “how come you don’t follow me?”
“Huh, I don’t know? What’s your user name?” As if I don’t know.
Baz grabs my laptop, “I’ll just type it in.” I let him because I’m lazy and I like watching him type but then he clicks on the search bar and has the biggest grin on his face. Fuck. He can see my search history, “looks like you already know it.” How could I forget about that?
I must look mortified because he places his hand on mine. Second time today. “It’s all good. I already have yours too.”
Hope.
#this is so bad#and doesnt actually fit in with the role reveral bit of the prompt#im just using the swap bit bc i hate role reversal fics#the tone suddenly changes bc i wrote this over two days#carry on countdown#coc 2019#snowbaz#baz pitch#simon snow#Penelope Bunce
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83 with davenzi for the prompts!!
me @ me: you can use these prompts to make short lil drabbles to get back into writing!
me: writes 2k on one prompt
also im sorrrrrry for taking so long i was on vacation and then got hella unmotivated but i hope you like this!!!!
83. “Do you want to be my valentine?”
“Do you want to be my valentine?”
Matteo startles, banging his head on his locker. The metal rattles, mimicking the feeling of his brain inside his skull from the impact.
“Ow,” Matteo murmurs, reaching up to soothe the bump that would inevitably form on his head. “Wait, what?”
David’s standing behind him, looking apologetic and nervous. He’s playing with his fingers and avoiding eye contact.
“Will you be my valentine?” he repeats sheepishly.
Matteo’s heart thumps in his chest. He can’t believe that David’s asking him this, after so long of Matteo pining and presuming that David didn’t return the feelings, after having come out on his own and having to deal with the backlash from Sara-
“I need to get Leonie off my back,” David explains hastily, as if sensing Matteo’s hesitation as displeasure.
“Leonie?” Matteo asks quietly. Either he’s just slow or the hit to his head has greatly affected his ability to understand what the fuck was going on.
“Yeah,” David says slowly, nodding his head encouragingly at Matteo. “You know, the girl who has a massive crush on me but isn’t getting the hint that I don’t like her back that way?”
“Yeah…” Matteo remembers. It’s honestly a little sad, if anything, to see Leonie trailing after David at school or at parties, her expression longing. Matteo really hopes he doesn’t look that sad.
“Right, okay,” David continues, finally looking up to meet Matteo’s eyes. “So, I overheard her talking to Sara saying that she was going to ask me out for Valentines Day, and I wanted to spare her the rejection.”
Goddammit. Even when David’s rejecting someone he’s so fucking nice.
“So…” Matteo trails off, his two braincells finally starting to click together. “You’re asking me out?”
David flushes bright red, biting his lip. “Not really,” he says quickly. Matteo raises his eyebrows. “I mean, I know we’re just friends and you don’t like me that way. I was just hoping that we could pretend to go on a date or whatever so that Leonie thinks we’re seeing each other… yeah.”
I do like you that way, Matteo wants to say. Instead-
“Um, yeah okay!” he says, feeling his own cheeks flush bright red. “Like, a fake date, right?”
“Yeah, exactly,” David replies, breathing a sigh of relief. Matteo’s heart shatters just a little bit more. “We can call it off afterwards. I just want to sell it to Leonie so that she won’t be as upset. Is that okay?”
“Yeah, totally!” Matteo’s totally digging his own grave right now.
“Thanks, Matteo,” David smiles. Matteo attempts to smile back, but it’s probably somewhat more of a grimace. “I’ll text you.”
“Okay.”
Matteo watches as David turns the corner. Matteo breathes out the breath he wasn’t aware he was holding.
Fuck.
There’s a Valentines party on Friday, courtesy of Kiki, who seemed really adamant on celebrating the American tradition. Of course, Matteo is roped into going to support Carlos.
Most of their friends are going. Which, of course, includes Leonie and Sara. And David. Who’s since decided that they should have their fake date at the party.
Matteo can already foresee the trainwreck.
David comes over to the flatshare early for pre-drinks. Matteo’s decided to skip out on hanging out with the rest of the boys. He can’t handle their comments tonight.
So it just leaves David and Matteo, sitting in the living room in semi awkward silence. Matteo clutches his beer tightly, taking sips way too often to try to settle the knots in his stomach.
“So,” David says, breaking a pause that’s been slightly too long. “What are we going to tell Leonie?”
“What do you mean?” Matteo asks, cursing himself as he feels his heart start to speed up.
“I mean, like the logistics?” David responds, shrugging his shoulders casually, as if this doesn’t bother him at all. “Like, when we started dating, who asked who out, stuff like that?”
“Oh, yeah,” Matteo murmurs. He looks at the condensation on the outside of his beer bottle.
“I… asked you out?” David offers, probably realising that Matteo isn’t offering any suggestions of his own. “I had a crush on you and I finally just decided to ask you out?”
“Mmh,” Matteo nods in confirmation, not exactly trusting his voice at the moment. He takes a long sip of his beer.
“And uh,” David pauses, his voice hesitant. “We’re taking it slow because you’ve only just come out, which is why we haven’t told anyone?”
I don’t want to go slow, Matteo thinks, but he nods anyways.
“Anything else?” David asks, nudging Matteo’s socked foot with his own.
Matteo looks up from the condensation. David’s eyes are open and earnest, his eyelashes fluttering. He’s gorgeous.
“Sounds good,” Matteo squeaks, his cheeks flushing involuntarily.
Oddly enough, David’s own cheeks are beginning to flush as well.
“Good,” he says shyly, now looking down at his own beer bottle. “Then we’ll do that.”
We’ll do that, apparently means staying glued to each other’s side for the whole party.
Matteo’s hardly complaining, because after all, he’d spend all of his free-time with David if he was allowed. However, he can’t stop his heart from fluttering irregularly at every minute touch, at every brush of their fingers.
Matteo swears he’s going to have a heart attack.
They’re sitting on the couch, arms pressed together. David’s skin is sticky from the heat of the room, but Matteo doesn’t care.
“Has she noticed?” Matteo murmurs into David’s ear over the music.
David’s breath stutters, and he jerks his head away, looking around the room.
“She’s looking at us, yeah,” David replies, turning back to face Matteo. He bites his lip hesitantly. “She looks confused.”
“How do we clear things up, then?” Matteo wonders, looking down at David’s lips involuntarily. He honestly can’t even help himself, not with David so close to him.
“I…” David trails off, his eyes darting around nervously. They finally settle back on Matteo. “I’ve been trying to do that.”
“I know?” Matteo scrunches his eyebrows in confusion.
“Yeah, just like,” David pauses, biting his lip again and letting out a shaky breath. “You know when you really like someone but they’re just so oblivious about it?”
“Yeah,” Matteo mumbles. His heart pounds. David’s cheeks flush again, but it must be from the heat of the room.
“And like, you try to ask them out, but you really fuck it up?” David asks, his voice hesitant and shaky.
“You mean Leonie’s been trying to ask you out,” Matteo points out, ignoring the sinking in his stomach. It’s not David’s fault that Matteo reads into every single little thing.
“Fuck,” David groans in frustration, throwing his head back against the back of the couch. “I’ve been trying to ask you out, you idiot.”
Matteo freezes. The people around him surely must continue to exist, but Matteo pays them no mind. Despite the blaring trap music, the humidity from all the sweaty bodies, and the loud laughs, Matteo reckons they’re the only people in the room; in the world.
“What?” Matteo stutters out. It feels like icicles are traveling down his back, despite the heat of the room.
“I’ve been into you for the longest time,” David rushes out, his cheeks never losing their flush. “And I was trying to ask you out because I figured I had nothing to lose but then when I tried you just looked so confused, and so I thought, oh shit, he’s not into me, so then I lied about the fake dating thing and-”
“You’re rambling,” Matteo blurts out. He doesn’t think he even has control over his body at the moment.
“Sorry,” David sighs, looking down at his hands in his lap. He looks back up at Matteo. “I’ve ruined our friendship, haven’t I?”
Matteo’s head snaps to look at David properly. “Ruined?”
“Yeah,” David shrugs pitifully. Matteo wants to kiss the frown right off his face. “Because you don’t like me like that, I got the message the first time.”
“I-” Matteo stutters out, clearing his dry throat. “I do like you like that.”
David gapes at him, his brows furrowed in confusion.
“I’m just, kind of a fucking idiot,” Matteo continues hesitantly, gauging David’s micro-expressions carefully. “And I thought that you didn’t like me. So I just didn’t say anything.”
“Oh,” David breathes out, looking down at his hands for a second, and then letting out a snort. “I guess I kind of made it look like that, didn’t I?”
“Yup.”
David lets out a long sigh and collapses against the backrest of the couch. Matteo follows him, letting out his own whoosh of air from his lungs. His t-shirt sticks to his back uncomfortably, but funnily enough, he has never been more comfortable in his life.
“You’re not an idiot, by the way,” David says, turning his head to look at Matteo with playful eyes. “We’re idiots.”
“Valid,” Matteo shrugs, unable to stop the grin on his face. He turns to David. “But-”
Matteo doesn’t even remember what he was going to say, because the love of his life is currently kissing him.
Matteo smiles into the kiss, leaning forward on unstable hands to get closer, always closer, to David, to breathe in his scent. David reaches up to tangle his hand into Matteo’s hair, tugging on the strands slightly, and Matteo’s brain shuts off.
All he feels is his heart pounding, his stomach dropping in the best way possible. He feels open, raw, vulnerable. David sighs shakily against his lips. Matteo can feel David’s heart pounding against his own, and suddenly, he doesn’t feel as vulnerable anymore. This is David. The same David who’s a total nerd for pretentious films, who teases Matteo relentlessly, whose hair looks like a stalk of broccoli when he’s just woken up. He’s David. He’s the one who has been just as open, just as vulnerable, right from the very start of their relationship. This is the boy that Matteo loves.
Matteo pays no attention to the heat of the room, and instead gets even closer, running his tongue along David’s lower lip. David moans (or at least, Matteo thinks he does) over the loud music and opens his mouth, and Matteo slides his tongue in-
“You owe me ten euros!” Screams a feminine voice, startling Matteo enough to jump back.
He whips his head over to meet Leonie and Sara, definitely drunk, excitedly bouncing up and down.
“Huh?” David says next to Matteo. When Matteo turns to look at him, he almost looks drunk.
Love drunk, Matteo thinks giddily.
“We had a bet!” Leonie giggles, throwing her arm around Sara’s shoulders to steady herself. “That you two would get together at this party! Sara thought you’d take longer, but it looks like I’m the winner!”
“I don’t even care,” Sara gushes, stumbling dangerously, almost knocking the both of them over. “You two are so cute, oh my god!”
“Um…” Matteo looks at David, who smirks at him.
“Anyways,” Leonie says, throwing her other arm around Sara in a tight hug. Sara wraps her arms around Leonie’s waist, her cheeks flushing slightly. “We’ll leave you two be! Be safe, use protection!”
The two girls probably walk away, but Matteo pays them no mind.
Not when David guides his chin with two fingers to place another kiss on Matteo’s lips. Matteo swoons.
“I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” David murmurs when their lips part again.
Matteo reaches up to cup David’s flushed cheeks. He places another kiss to his lips.
“Can we…” Matteo licks his lips nervously. “Can we keep doing it?”
He doesn’t say it out loud, but David seems to get it.
“If you want,” David shrugs, trying to look nonchalant but failing miserably.
“I want,” Matteo replies, giggling as David rolls his eyes fondly.
“My boyfriend’s such an idiot,” David declares, and even though he’s teasing, Matteo’s heart swirls.
“Damn right he is,” Matteo retorts, leaning in to kiss his boyfriend softly.
Whatever comeback David had is lost in a flurry of soft kisses, sweaty hands, and fluttering heartbeats.
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Constangreen The Proposal AU! I had to crank out a moodboard and ficlet for this idea. Dedicated to the lovely @agentmarymargaretskitz who needs a little fluff right now and the lovely folks at the Constangreen server. Love you guys!
Gary was late.
He’s slept through his snooze button, and so he barely had time to take a quick shower, dress, and attempt to fix his hair into something presentable. He was held up at this stupid pretentious tea café six blocks out of his way that his pain-in-the-ass boss just HAD to get a lapsang souchong with exactly one sugar cube in it, and it took forever due to how busy it was. But finally, with tea and his own black coffee with cream, he hurried to the publishing office, where he had to wait for the elevator to take him to the ninth floor. Of course, the elevator had to stop at EVERY. SINGLE. FLOOR.
“Cutting it close,” the receptionist Mona whispered to him as he passed her desk, and he shouldn’t have turned to reply ‘I know’ to her before Gary collided with Nate, spilling the tea all over the floor.
“Seriously?!” Gary exclaimed as Nate tried to apologize, sighing at the tea on his pants and on the floor, setting his coffee on the side of Mona’s desk and wiping up the mess. “Just great, he’s going to lose his-“
The elevator door opened again, and John Constantine walked out with purpose, eyes hidden behind sunglasses but his glare could still be felt through them. Nate quickly darted off and Mona went back to her phone. Gary sighed again, picking up his coffee and turning to John as he approached him.
“Good m-“
“Is Sharpie coming in today or not, darling, she didn’t answer her bloody email yesterday.”
“Ms. Sharpe is coming today, the meeting’s in three hours,” Gary said, keeping pace with him as the other coworkers dodged out of their way as they headed down the corridors. “I have your reports for it already in your box on your desk. I called your lawyer over the copyright claim, it’s being sorted out and she should be back with results by Thursday. Hey, um, so, you know the book I’ve been working on, the one that I gave a copy of to you? I was thinking-“
“Did Rory turn in the manuscript for the sequel yet yet, it’s over two weeks late. Wanker keeps that shit up again, tell him to get a new publisher because we’ll sell o-“
“No, he sent it in yesterday, that’s on my desk. I’m just bringing this up because I’ve been working for you for five years and you said I get one favor from you, so I was thinking-“
“I might have gotten up to more than I thought I would last night, have you-“
“I know, I already called your PR guy last night, John, they’ll spin it wasn’t you drunk in a pub crawl on a Monday night.”
John shoved his hair out of his face, breathing out and then grinning, “Fucking brilliant, Gary.”
Gary suddenly perked up, breaking out into a wide smile. “Oh, thank you! So, does that mean you’ll look at my- oh hey, no, that’s my c-“ he started to say when John took the coffee from his hand and drank from it before spitting it out into a cubicle trash can, then dumping the poor innocent Styrofoam cup in there after it.
“The hell is that, where’s my tea?”
“I don’t have it y-“
“I’m hungover, I feel like I’m gonna hurl on your desk, Rory hasn’t sent in his script, AND you don’t have my tea?! What do I pay you?!” John nearly yelled at him, and Gary rolled his eyes, shoving Rory’s manuscript against his chest.
He hissed, “Not nearly enough. Here’s the script, take it already.”
“What about my-“
“I’ll get you your tea,” Gary muttered, sitting at his desk and answering the ringing phone. “John Constantine’s office, how can I help you?”
He took down the message and watched out of the corner of his eye as John unscrewed his water bottle and took an Advil from Gary’s container on his desk. As soon as Gary hung up the phone he asked, “Need you for an event and the like this weekend. That an issue?’
Again, Gary sighed, “I was going to ask off to go see my family for my Aunt Stacy’s 90th birthday this weekend, so-“ John’s face didn’t change, Gary could see his eyes peeking out from behind his sunglasses, so he finished his sentence with a tired, “-I’ll cancel, I’ll cancel, it’s fine.”
“That’s the same lot that tells you to quit, yeah?”
Gary put on the fakest smile possible, picking up the phone and cradling it between his shoulder and his neck. “Every single day, boss.”
He nearly fell forward in his chair as John clasped him hard across the back with a laugh before heading back to his office.“Thanks, darling, don’t know where I’d be without you.”
Gary’s smile dropped and he rolled his eyes hard as he dialed the number, muttering under his breath, “Probably dead in a ditch. Or a bog of some sort.”
Mona came over after dropping off a tea to John’s office, leaning against Gary’s desk with a sympathetic smile. “Hey.”
“Hey,” Gary said around the red pen cap in his mouth. “You know his hangover days, you get used to them after time.”
“I don’t see how,” she sighed, shaking her head. “I’m amazed you haven’t snapped.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” Gary grinned at her, removing the cap and showing her the document open on his personal laptop. “Sadly, a blonde British warlock was the first to die at the hands of the monstrous hellhound.”
Mona laughed. “How’s the book going?”
“I’ve got it all mapped out, the first book is done, midway through the second.” Gary shrugged. “Only problem is getting it published, ironically enough.”
“He should owe you a favor by now.”
“The nicest thing he’s ever done for me is pay for a new suit when he threw up on mine,” Gary laughed, answering the phone and waving Ms. Sharpe and another woman into John’s office and getting back to his own work.
He didn’t think anything of it when he heard a loud crash from inside the office, too dull to shock caused by his boss at this point.
*******
“…what did you say?” John gasped, coughing on his words and taking his sunglasses off to rub his eyes.
“I’m terribly sorry, Mr. Constantine,” Federal Agent Gideon Ryder told him, not sounding sorry in the least. “But your worker’s visa from the UK has expired. I’m afraid you’re subject to deportation, as I’ve told Ms. Sharpe.”
John collapsed back into his chair. “It’s only over a few weeks or so since I forgot the paperwork, give me some time to go over-“
“I’m afraid the window has passed.”
“Then I’ll continue my work back in Liverpool, can do all communications online until-“
Ava’s mouth was in a pressed line. “John, when you’re deported, you can no longer work for an American company.”
John rolled his eyes at her, “All this work I’ve done for you and you’re hanging me out to dry, pet?”
“I’m not getting wrapped up in potential fraudulent behavior, John, you know that.”
John leaned back in his chair further, propping his feet up on the desk and rubbed at his temple. He chewed on the back of a pencil, wishing he could get up and smoke on the balcony, but he didn’t feel like another primary grade lecture on the danger of tobacco effects on the body from Ava.
This was bullshit.
He was fully content to sulk in his chair with his arms folded across his chest until five o’clock rolled around, when there was a knock at his door and then the office door opened and Gary stuck his head in. “Pardon the interruption-“
“We’re in a meeting, Gary,” Ava began, voice crisp and blunt, but John shushed her.
“Hey, hey, don’t snap at ‘im, pet.”
Gary rolled his eyes. “Yeah, that’s your job, after all.”
“Darling, as much as I hate proving her wrong, I’m in a meeting at the-“
“I’m aware you’re in the meeting I arranged for you, John. I’m just letting you know that when you’re finished you need to call Snart on his cell number.”
“Tell him I’m busy,” John argued, chewing on the eraser portion of the pencil until grit was between his teeth.
“I DID, John, I didn’t transfer him to your line right NOW,” Gary insisted through his teeth. A typical morning. “I told him you had a prior engagement. If you’re done arguing like a child, I’d like to get back to-
Engagement.
John tossed the pencil aside and mouthed, ‘you’re a bloody fucking genius, Gary’ at the man and gestured for him to come in. Gary sighed, but let himself in as John stood up from his desk and made his way over to him. “Thank you, for letting me know the situation,” he stated evenly to Gideon, standing right beside Gary. “But, don’t have to worry about that little expiration.”
“Why not?”
“Because - we-” John started, putting an arm around Gary’s shoulder and turning to smile at him. “-we’re getting - married.”
The room went silent.
Gary blinked at him once, then twice, then put on a usual corporate smile. “Hmm?”
“Getting married, yeah,” John smiled back at him.
“Who - who’s getting married?”
“Us, darling, You and me,” John laughed, sounding forced as he squeezed Gary’s shoulder hard, harder than necessary. “True love, he’s the one, the whole lot, ya know? So - we’re clear, all good, Sharpie, yeah?”
Ava looked like she was about to burst out laughing, a rare look on her. “You know what, John? You make it legal, we’re a-OK. Right, Gideon?”
Gideon’s lips were tilted up into a smile. “That would be correct, a legal marriage to a US citizen will allow you more time to restore your visa.”
Gary was too frozen to even think about moving, didn’t even think about it as Ava nudged his other shoulder on the way out with Gideon, laughing about ‘saving her an invitation’ and ‘of course you’d one-up me by getting married first’ before the door closed behind the two women. Then he shoved John’s arm off of his shoulder and hissed at him, “WHAT DID YOU SAY?!”
“We’re getting married, pick out a tux,” John said offhandedly like he was asking Gary to pick up his lunch for him that day. “Hey, d’ you swipe my pack again, dyin’ for a smoke right n-“
“I’m not - I’m NOT MARRYING YOU,” Gary snapped, snatching the pack out of John’s hands. “There’s not enough alcohol in the world.”
“Then be unemployed,” John snapped back, reaching for the pack only for Gary to move it away from him. “Because I get deported, you’re out of a bloody job, and you’re not making editor yet.”
“Low blow,” Gary scoffed, this time holding the pack up high over his head, standing on his toes just out of John’s reach. “You hit me, I’ll call HR.”
John sighed, rubbing his temple. “Holding my fuckin’ pack hostage, cruel.”
“Deal with it, I’m not marrying you.”
“Pretty please?”
“Hell no, my personal life can’t revolve around you like my professional one does.”
“You have one?”
“How would you know, everything’s been focused on YOU for five years!” Gary nearly shrieked. “I thought the worst thing I’ve ever done for you deal with your drunk ass after Stein’s retirement party, I will NOT do this for you.”
John worked his jaw as Gary started to leave the room, his hand on the doorknob. “Wait! I - your book.”
Gary paused. “What about it?”
“I can get you a deal, I can run it through the higher-ups,” John bargained. “I’ll handle everything, darling, I promise you that.”
Gary sighed, turning around to lean against the knob. “Are you serious?”
“Deadly, love.”
“This isn’t going to work out.”
“It only has to for about seven months.”
“SEVEN MO- no, that’s too much of you in my-“
“Your book. Published. Can draw up a deal right after the honeymoon.”
“Ew, I’m not - I’m not ‘honeymooning’ with you, I’ll catch something from you.”
“First, rude, I’m clean. Second, not what I was implying, for once. Third, we’ll shake on it,” John declared, sticking a hand. “Swear on my life, let’s do it.”
Gary stared at his hand, then looked back up at John’s face, a grin spreading across his face. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Then I’d like to be asked.”
“I just asked.”
“Nope, you didn’t. I’d like to be asked the right way.”
“Oh, for fuck’s s-“
Gary waved the cigarettes in front of his face. “You get these back when you get on your knee.”
“I’ll call HR on you for that, Gary Green.”
“Wh- no! That’s not-“
John laughed, grabbing a paperclip from the desk and bending it into a circle, getting on one knee. “Fine. Gary Green, marry me.”
“That wasn’t even a question, that was a request.”
“You cheeky fu- would you please marry me?”
Gary pinched the bridge of his nose. “You promise you can get me that deal?”
“Promise, Gary.”
“….then....yes, I’ll - I’ll marry you.”
John stood right back up from the floor, shoving the bent paperclip ring onto his finger and clapping his hand across his back again. “Fucking stunner you are, darling.”
Gary rolled his eyes again. “Am I allowed to go back to work, now?”
“Pass the pack.”
Gary was so glad he had terrible coordination, he hit John square in the twice-broken nose with it. John grabbed it, sending Gary a look before opening a window. “You’re dismissed.”
“Thanks, sweetie pie,” Gary muttered bitterly, stealing his stapler from his desk. “Don’t talk to me the rest of the day.”
And with that, Gary left the office and collapsed into his desk chair, resting his head on his arms with his desk. He didn’t get to rest as long as he would have liked before he heard Mona’s voice. “Got your Chipotle order.”
He picked his head back up, cracking his neck, and smiled at her. “Thanks, Mona.” His smile faded slightly when John left his office to grab his order from Mona’s bag.
“Thanks, love,” he told her, already opening the lid and sticking a fork in it. Cigarette smoke still clung to his clothes and assaulted Gary’s nose as he turned around to face him. “Darling, I have a conference call, put my other calls on hold. Run my inbox for me, too, gotta run now. We’ll talk after, yeah?”
And then the door was closing behind him again, and Gary rubbed at his temple again.
“What a prick,” Mona whispered, laughing at her own comment.
“I know,” Gary nodded, absently twisting the paperclip around his finger. “Can’t believe I’m marrying him.”
He was glad he’d taken to leaving an extra shirt at work, as Mona ended up spitting guacamole-slathered rice all over it.
#legends of tomorrow#constangreen#john constantine#gary green#this is crack#please enjoy#it was too much fun to write
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chapter 11.5 -- okay, 12, it’s chapter 12, fine, fine. I should stop trying to predict how long my chapters will be. I’m always wrong. the Fae AU keeps escaping all my predictions. it’s fine. it’s cool.
[Beginning] [Chapter Masterlist] [ao3]
It is not, as Apollo expects, the worst road trip he has ever been a part of. Trucy likes to sing along to the radio – she has a surprisingly good voice – which stops Clay from starting up his usual road trip tradition of bellowing out “Ninety-Nine Bottles of Beer on the Wall” and seeing how much he can get through before someone slaps him. Trucy claimed shotgun, as “the woman with the magic map”, meaning Apollo is shunted to the back with Ema, who upends her bag on the floor to pull from it a jumbo-sized pack of Snackoos and offer a handful to him.
“None for us?” Clay asks, pouting in the rearview mirror.
“Backseat privileges,” Ema replies.
Trucy cranks the radio up as a familiar guitar riff begins.
If it’s extortion, it works; she and Clay have not finished the first verse, Trucy’s almost-operatic interpretation running up against Clay’s off-key warbling, before Ema is shoving the Snackoos up between their seats, offering a trade of chocolates for an end to the car-vibrating force of Guilty Love.
“Not a fan?” Clay asks.
Ema groans. So does Trucy. “Don’t get me started,” Ema says.
“Yeah, please don’t,” Trucy adds.
“He’s a pretentious fuckin’ diva who—”
Trucy begins yelling out the chorus to the song over the second verse emitting from the radio.
They are all still arguing – Ema berating Clay’s taste in music while Trucy moves into an attempt to sing My Boyfriend is the Prosecution’s Witness to the tune of Guilty Love and Apollo tries to turn the volatile atmosphere anywhere else – when the song ends. Trucy shushes everyone, violently, smacking Clay on the arm and then flailing back at Ema, and turns up the radio. A DJ is in the middle of saying something.
“—announced today on their social media. While fans are disappointed, no one can say that the break-up comes as a surprise, after the sentencing of guitarist Daryan Crescend for murder in July, and the three months of, ahem, radio silence that’s followed. And earlier this week, leader singer Klavier Gavin’s brother was indicted on a second count of murder – I can’t say I blame him for maybe wanting to duck out of the spotlight. Gavin’s brother was previously charged in April, for—”
Trucy changes the channel. A commercial for a local furniture outlet doesn’t help break the awkward spell fallen over them. “Yeah,” she says, after a full minute, during which time they discover their new channel is a country music channel. “No real surprise.”
“Brother and bandmate,” Clay says quietly. “Hell of a year.”
“Hell of a six months,” Apollo says. And he was there for all of it – he was there for more of it than Klavier ever was. Klavier wasn’t there in April, not when Kristoph fell, not when any of them could have had any idea what was ahead. How much magic would surround them.
“If my older sister had been convicted of murder, I was gonna crawl into the dirt and die,” Ema says, “so I’m with the fop on that one, actually.”
There is a worrying lack of hypotheticals in the second half of Ema’s scenario. No “would have”s. Like she was where Klavier is, but the trial had a different outcome, and the frozen expression on her face, her eyes gone blank, she looks like she has caught up with her own words. Said too much. Apollo doesn’t know much about her as a person, her life before failing the forensics exam, how it was that she knew Mr Wright, but he can sympathize with that fear of having given away too much, turned the conversation down a path that should stay blocked off.
“You have a sister?” Trucy asks, turning around in her seat. “You seemed kinda ‘only-child’ to me.’
“Yeah,” Ema says quietly. “Older sister. Her name’s Lana. We don’t… talk much.”
Apollo doesn’t know why the name feels like it strikes something in his brain, the way Ema’s did when she first introduced herself.
“Oh.” Trucy visibly wilts. “Sorry.”
Ema shrugs, slumping back against her seat, her arms folded. “It happens,” she says. Her eyes are glazed over, settled in Clay’s direction. Her mouth quirks in the beginnings of a smile. “She took me to the Space Museum once, not long after it first opened.” The wistful smile has grown a little larger. “Back when I didn’t know what kind of scientist I wanted to be, so I wanted to go everywhere, and she was like ‘Ema I’m not taking you to the fucking tar pits again, how about space?’, and—” She shakes her head. “Sorry. Your jacket got me thinking. Do you work there or something?”
And that is the question that Clay most likes to be asked, that or literally anything else ever about space, and that is the end of any of them getting a word in edgewise – but while Apollo’s heard it all before, Trucy has questions galore, and Ema sits forward, slowly losing the pretense of not being enraptured.
-
They have driven for over two hours by the time Trucy directs them to pull of the highway at an exit that tells them there is nothing for them that way but another 38 miles until Kurain Village. “Is that where the Fair Folk live?” Ema asks dryly, in her voice none of the nervousness that people tend to have. Apollo hasn’t spoken much with her about magic, doesn’t know what she thinks – but, well, she knows Phoenix. That’s clue enough that caution comes secondary.
“Not really,” Trucy says. “They just named it that. It’s part of our world. Sometimes some of the fae do show up and hang around, I think – Maya tried to convince Daddy to move out here, once, apparently, but he wouldn’t leave the office.”
“Who’s Maya?” Apollo asks. Sometimes he realizes how little he knows about Phoenix’s personal life, too.
“Daddy’s friend. She’s – wait, stop! Here! Turn down this road here!”
“This is not a road,” Clay says, hunching over the steering wheel. “This is some dirt, off the road, not even in the shape of a dirt road.”
The car groans as Clay turns it off of the asphalt into the dirt. Trucy pops open the door and stands, holding herself between the door and the car roof and turning her face to the sky and the no-longer-distant mountains looming above them. She says something, muffled, and points into the trees. “We’re close,” she says, ducking back inside the car. “Let’s park and go – we’re close.”
“Park right here?” Clay asks, raising a doubtful eyebrow.
“Barely anyone comes this way,” Trucy says. “Like, one bus, except I’m not even sure if this is on its route. It’s fine.”
“I’m more worried that this is some sort of sacred ground that we’re stomping on,” Clay says, but he turns the key and then smacks his head against the top of the wheel. “How much are we going to regret just walking out there?”
“Probably we won’t,” Trucy says. She flings the door open and jumps out, stretching her arms up into the air. “C’mon already!”
“So what are we doing now?” Ema asks, crumpling the Snackoos bag back into her bag and tumbling forth from the car like a liquid spilled. “Just walking into the woods until we find treasure or a bear?”
“We do have a map.” Trucy waves it at her. “But yes. That’s what we’re doing.” She lowers the page halfway to her side and then stops, tilting her head back. “I’ve been here before,” she says. “Grandpappy and I – sometime – sometime after my mom died.” She takes a few slow steps toward the treeline, her movements uneven, as in a daze. “It was just the two of us. And we came here, and we buried—” She spins around, eyes wide, looking at all and none of them. “We buried his grimoire.”
Without another word of warning, she dashes into the woods, sending them scrambling to catch up to her. It’s colder here than in the city, though Apollo didn’t think they went up too far in elevation. Leaves thickly coat the ground; do they hide rings of flowers beneath them or do those in their magic break through? They finally reach Trucy when she, focused on her map, walks straight into a tree and takes some time to properly reorient herself.
“Do you know why here, of all places?” Apollo asks. “Is it because of the mountains, and he was…?”
He stops. Does Trucy know what her grandfather was? Phoenix didn’t say. Of course he didn’t.
“He said this is where he landed,” Trucy replies, crunching a leaf beneath her foot. “He said he fell, and this is where he landed.”
“Was he—” Clay’s sense, that question that they all know they shouldn’t ask, that question that Apollo has asked again and again anyway, wars against curiosity, against more than wanting to know – needing to know, to understand what is Trucy’s family. “Was he, erm, one of – Them?”
He can’t even bring himself to offer up one of the epithets. This close to the mountains, Apollo isn’t sure that he could bring himself to speak of them plainly like he has learned to.
“Yeah,” Trucy says. “But I’m human. Don’t worry.” She flashes a grin, one of her usual grins, but it is tempered by the speed with which is vanishes from her face again, replaced by a frown of concentration. “I think we must be close, but not quite yet.”
“Hey, Trucy?” Ema asks. She pushes a branch out of the way and it snaps back to nearly strike Clay in the face. “Not to pry, but – if your grandfather was one of the Fair Folk, are you the changeling, or was it your mother?”
Trucy stops.
“Wait,” Ema says. “Not a changeling – that’s the fae child. The human kid, the one swapped out. Is there a word for that?”
“I don’t think so,” Trucy says. She hops over a log. “I don’t think there’s a name for people like that.”
She doesn’t answer the first question. Maybe she doesn’t know, either.
“When you say you buried it,” Apollo says, aware that there is nothing subtle about this lifeline he is throwing to pull her away from questions best left avoided (am I a child stolen away, raised by the fae? Did they take me from the life I should have had?), “have we come all this way to be foiled for want of a shovel?”
“Oh fuck,” Trucy says.
“Hey!” Ema barks, her sharp rebuke the manifestation of that urge Apollo feels to scold her for that. “Language, young missy!” She folds her arms across her chest, her glare a fond one. “Where did you learn that?”
“My daddy’s a card shark,” Trucy says, countering Ema with a smug grin of her own.
“I thought he was a piano player,” Clay says.
“Only because you’ve never heard him play,” Trucy replies. “Easy mistake to make.”
“Considering it was all magic that hid the map,” Ema says, with nary a pause to acclimate everyone to the idea of throwing the conversation back past that latest sharp turn, “wouldn’t it be magic to hide it again, logically speaking?”
“Where’s the logic here?” Clay asks. Ema snaps a twig off a bush and flicks it at him. “And I mean, if it’s just covered up with some illusion, couldn’t anyone stumble into it?”
“Maybe it takes the map, too,” Apollo says. “Or maybe only a Gramarye can unveil it.”
He steps up onto a tree stump, like the extra five inches can grant him some kind of special insight or a better view in the forest of brown. Then he is falling, the wood rot giving way beneath his foot, a sharp jolt running up his leg from the twist of his foot. “Shit!”
Trucy winces. “Ouch. Poor Polly. I—”
“Apollo,” Ema says, very seriously, but somewhat muffled by her hand over her mouth. “Move. Move right now.”
“What?” He sits up, dislodging his foot from the stump, and looks about himself. The forest floor of dead leaves has cleared, as though by a strong, concentrated wind, revealing browned dead grass encased by a perfect circle of blue flowers. “Oh. Oh shit.”
Without an ounce of grace, still on his hands and knees, he scrambles and rolls his way out of the faery ring. “So according to the map,” Trucy says, and above his head Apollo hears the flutter of the paper, “I think we found it.”
“Only a Gramarye, huh,” Clay says dryly.
“That was only supposition!”
“So who’s gonna stick their hand in a rotten tree stump?” Ema asks, producing a flashlight from her bag and shining the beam down into it. “I volunteer Trucy, because she’s wearing gloves, and is our Gramarye.”
Trucy kicks up the leaves on her approach, searching for hints of another ring around the stump, more than just Apollo’s that sits adjacent to it. “If I get bit by a squirrel and get rabies and die, it’s your fault,” she says, kneeling down next to the stump and brushing her hair back to peer down into it.
“Statistically, your chance of getting rabies from a squirrel is negligible,” Ema says. “That shouldn’t be your worry.”
“What should I worry about, then?” Trucy asks. “Can you bring the light a little closer?”
“Bats, racoons, foxes, feral cats and dogs, and right now, probably non-rabies Fair Folk curses, since we’re fucking around by a ring.”
“I’m still concerned about bears,” Clay says.
“I’m not,” Ema says. “I’ve already got my plan, which is to trip you into its path.”
“General ‘you’, or me, specifically?”
“You specifically. Nothing personal, though. I just know Trucy and Apollo better than you.”
“This is way heavier than I thought,” Trucy says, falling off-balance and dropping something dark and rectangular. “Oof! Okay. Okay. We got it!” She lifts it up onto her knees, a thick book with a black cover and a character emblazoned in flowing purple script on it. “I knew I remembered this.” Her voice is quieter as she opens the book and flips through the rough-edged pages. “Grandpappy’s grimoire.” She closes the cover again, reverently, and keeps it balanced on her legs as she turns back to the stump. “Light again, please. I thought I saw something else.” Trucy has her head nearly in the hole, which can’t help her with her light situation, and she sits back and plunges her hand in again. “Yep! This is a – a funny-looking magatama?”
She holds it up, the blue stone sparkling in the flashlight beam, but also seemingly with its own interior glow, and Apollo gasps.
Three sets of eyes turn to him.
“That’s a mitamah,” he says, and to his own ears he sounds like he’s choking, but he feels like he’s choking too, and maybe the others don’t notice but he doubts it. “That’s someone’s soul.”
Trucy drops it into the leaves.
“What?” Clay looks suspicious – Trucy looks horrified. “How do you know?”
(“There’s no reason to give away your soul,” Dhurke told them, sternly, the sternest he ever got. “Never.” And then they tried to argue, to come up with reasons, because of course they did, and he hugged them both close. “You’ll make great lawyers someday, always looking for reasons and other ways, but this one – promise me. Nahyuta. Apollo.” He prodded each of them in the chest. “Don’t let someone else get their hands on your soul.”)
“The tail of it is different.” Apollo picks it up, brushing off the dirt and leaf particles that cling to it, and points to the longer, squiggling protrusion that extends from the loop. It doesn’t fully connect like a magatama, either, more like a hook than a circle.
It feels warm in his hand, humming through his fingers and up into his ears. It reminds him of the office – familiar, but disturbing, because there is no reason that it should feel so familiar and comforting.
“Could it be your grandfather’s?” Ema asks.
“Wouldn’t that mean he’s still alive?” Clay asks. “Is that possible?”
“It couldn’t be,” Apollo says. If he stares at the mitamah he thinks he can see flecks of gold within the blue, like stars on a constellation chart. “The Fair Folk don’t have souls like we do. They can’t sell them or manifest them like this.”
“Is that why they want human souls?” Ema asks.
“How do you know?” Clay repeats.
Apollo’s heart has stoppered up his throat.
“It makes them stronger,” Trucy says softly. “When they buy names, or souls, it makes their magic stronger. But this – this can’t be that.” She hugs the grimoire up to her chest. “It can’t just be that.”
“Should we just… put it back?” Ema asks. “Someone’s probably looking for it, right?”
“It’s been seven years and no one has come before us,” Apollo says. The humming isn’t as steady now, seems more like a song, and familiar, damned familiar. “No, we can’t just leave her here.”
In the silence, even the song seems to stop. “What?” Apollo asks. Their three sets of eyes are on him again, even more piercing, Trucy’s wide and Clay’s narrowed and Ema’s narrowing too.
“‘Her’?” Ema repeats. “Why ‘her’?”
“I…” Apollo swallows his heart. “I don’t know, but I… I know?”
“I don’t think you should be holding that in your bare hands,” Clay says.
But the alternative seems to be dropping her in the dirt again, and Apollo’s fingers curl tighter around the stone. He can’t do that, either. Trucy unties her scarf from around her neck and silently passes it to him, letting him wrap the stone up in the red fabric and then cradle it close again. The song thrumming in his ears ceases. “I guess we should take it to Mr Wright and ask him if he knows what to do,” Ema says. “He’ll know what to do with it. Her?”
Trucy’s gaze is unfocused, her head slowly drifting away from the horizon back toward the stump. “Trucy?” Apollo asks. “Are you okay?”
“He wouldn’t do that,” she says. “Just buy up someone’s soul all for himself. He wouldn’t. There had to be some other reason. It wasn’t just power, there had to be a good reason.”
(“There’s no reason,” Dhurke said. “Never.”)
“He gave me magic, as a gift,” Trucy says. “He was a good man.” She looks up at Apollo, blinking her blue eyes furiously. “Wasn’t he?”
-
It takes them another forty-five minutes to stumble out of the woods and find Clay’s car again. Ema makes everyone nervous talking about the odds of them stumbling across a body decomposing in the undergrowth – “I have zero desire to ever get caught up in one of your murder investigations,” Clay says, picking up a branch from the bushes and brandishing it like a baseball bat – and bears. The two of them are at least doing a good job of filling the silence left by Trucy, uncomfortably quiet, walking in a trace. Apollo tugs her by the arm out of the way of trees. He could put the mitamah in his pocket but hasn’t, has kept it held close to his chest.
The story that Phoenix spun of the Gramaryes is gnawing at him. A woman, on the bad end of a deal with Magnifi – Apollo doesn’t want to think about the possibility.
(Trucy must be thinking about the possibility, mustn’t she?)
She crawls into the back seat of the car, depositing the grimoire in the middle, and Ema makes a mad dash for the front seat, leaving Apollo to sit on the other side of the grimoire, separated by it from Trucy. The only time she speaks is to call Phoenix and ask him if he is at the office – he is, because she directs Clay to go back to the office.
It is a long, quiet ride home, some subdued conversation between Ema and Clay about their fields of science rising over the country music still on the radio. Trucy taps Apollo’s hand and beckons him to hand her the mitamah. She takes off one of her gloves and weighs it in her hand with an ever-deepening frown until she wraps it back up and passes it back to Apollo.
Ema shouts “Yellow car!” and hits Clay on the shoulder. He hits her back and tells her that she needs to specify no punch-backs next time.
-
Phoenix is sitting on the floor leaning against the couch with two notebooks and a stack of papers spread out in front of him, the coffee table shoved to the side, a pencil in his mouth and another tucked behind his ear, when they stagger into the office. Apollo is mediating an argument about the merits of Eldoon’s for a late lunch – Ema does not want to brave it, while Clay wants nothing more than to do so. Phoenix does not look up.
“Hey, Daddy,” Trucy says wearily.
His head snaps up, dislodging the pencil behind his ear. “What’s wrong?”
“You always complain about your back hurting, and now look what you’re doing.” Trucy’s words sound forced through a smile. Phoenix’s frown deepens. He watches Trucy walk past him to deposit the grimoire on his desk.
“We went looking into the envelope you gave her the other day,” Apollo says. “The real last page.”
Phoenix doesn’t look back from Trucy right away. “A full expedition team, huh?” he asks, raising one eyebrow as he looks over Ema and Clay. “Who’s this?”
“Er, oh, yeah. I’m Clay Terran. Apollo’s roommate.” Clay points with his thumb at Apollo, even though they all know there is only one Apollo that they know. “You’re Mr Wright, yeah?” He doesn’t do a good job of feigning enthusiasm.
“I know that look,” Phoenix says, standing with a wince and an audible crack of some of his joints. “That’s the ‘I’ve heard about you and it’s nothing good’ look.” He lets Clay splutter for a full two seconds before he grins crookedly and adds, “That’s fair.” Almost immediately, his expression flattens out to something stern and almost entirely foreign. “Trucy,” he calls. “What’s wrong?”
“We found my grandfather’s grimoire,” she says, sitting on the desk and holding it up, only for it to slip from her hands and crash to the floor. “And Polly has the other thing that was with it.”
Apollo unwraps the mitamah.
Has he ever seen Phoenix surprised? The man spent seven years an unbeaten poker player, and this past half-year absolutely inscrutable to Apollo’s eyes. There is nothing controlled in his reaction; his mouth falls open and his eyes go wide, turning blue immediately and staying blue, horror apparent in how they linger on the mitamah. “Oh,” he breathes. “That is – yeah.”
He reaches forward with trembling hands and scoops up the scarf spread across Apollo’s hands. He holds it cradled close, too, his free hand cupped beneath the one holding it, prepared to catch the stone should it slip, but still not having touched it with bare skin. “So,” he says. “The ‘source’ of Magnifi’s magic – that grimoire, and this soul.”
“But,” Trucy says, “that…” She stops. She chews on the inside of her cheek. Mr Hat, the wisp, is visible, bobbing frenetically around her shoulders. “It’s…” Her shoulders slump. “Do you know what to do with that, Daddy? Is there a way to know what person a soul belongs to?”
“Not from looking only at the mitamah,” Phoenix answers. His eyes still hollow blue when he turns them back to Trucy. “I am not particularly familiar with mitamahs, honestly, but I’ll look into it and see what I can do to get it back to her.” He takes the stone in one hand and offers Trucy her scarf back. “If the fae who has possession of a soul is still alive, they can just give it back – not that many are willing to, mind – but since he’s dead – well.” He shakes his head. “Thank you, though. For helping Trucy, and bringing this back.”
It’s a firm end to the conversation, not that Apollo knows what more to ask about a soul. Ema, though, is frowning, her arms crossed, her mouth twisting like she is puzzling out something. “We were gonna go get noodles at Eldoon’s,” Apollo says. “If – if you wanted to come, Trucy.”
“Oh!” She looks surprised, like she hadn’t expected to be addressed. “Um.” Her heels bounce against the desk. “Thanks, but I’m okay.”
Her hands, curled around the edge of the desk, shine red. Apollo doesn’t even need that to know she’s lying.
-
“We all agree she’s not okay, right?” Clay asks.
They were silent for a block down from the office, Ema not even complaining about losing the Eldoon’s battle. (Apollo was prepared to tell her that she didn’t have to come, but she had attached herself to them without a cursory protest.)
“Definitely not,” Ema says. “I guess she doesn’t want to believe that her grandfather was the double-dealing type of Folk – which, I’ve read the case file on his death, I’d believe that about him in a hot second. There’s nothing worse than a blackmailer like that. Also.” She plants herself firmly in the sidewalk. Apollo and Clay both bump into her. “None of us referred to the mitamah as ‘she’ or ‘her’, right? Like you were, Apollo.”
“None of us but Trucy even talked about it,” Apollo says. Clay nods. “Why?”
“Because Mr Wright did.” Ema’s forehead creases. “He said he would ‘get it back to her’. He wasn’t even touching it, was he?” Apollo shrugs. Ema shrugs too. “He knows something. More than he said.”
“He always does,” Apollo says.
They reach Eldoon’s, and Ema says that it’s weird to see the stand without a corpse attached. The look that Clay gives her makes her and Apollo both laugh. Once they have their noodles, they walk another few blocks to People Park and find a bench not far from where the noodle-stand crime scene once stood. Apollo has learned to be grateful for the mouthfuls of broth that taste of so much salt to sting. It feels a little more like safety, like salt across a doorway.
He starts to say what he’s thinking, that Trucy might be worried that the mitamah is her mother’s, or at least he is, but the words die on his tongue, shriveled by the salt. He doesn’t feel right to tell Clay and Ema about Trucy’s mother’s death, when he has no idea if Trucy knows or not. Phoenix has made him the guardian of family secrets that aren’t his and something about that feels wrong. Maybe necessary in some way, to understand the case, to understand what happened with Kristoph, but still wrong.
Instead, he helps Ema explain to Clay her earlier comments about Magnifi and blackmail. You can’t refuse, and we both know the reason why – Trucy can’t know he did that. She seemed to idolize him. What a hard way to fall.
He’ll text her tomorrow, Apollo decides. Check in, see how she’s doing.
(There’s probably someone else he should check in with, too, the events of this week all considered.)
#fic: the seelie of kurain#roddy fanfics#start your morning with some magic and gramarye fuckery wooooooooooo
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Hot take that exclusionists are NOT ready for but
I cant stand when exclusionists go "well we built our community you guys are just being lazy and trying to leech instead of putting in the effort!!" Because it's so fucking wrong and pretentious
First of all, no. Yall didnt "build the community". You guys had no part in that. People who share your identities did, before most of yall were even considered let alone conceived. A bunch of bitter ass 15 year olds absolutely didnt make the community, and yall dont have residual knowledge on how communities work just from being gay. Im sorry but its true. If anything, aces and aros do more actual community building than exclusionists because we have to constantly tell people again and again what our orientation is, dispell misinformation, make positivity for ourselves to combat hate, make terms to describe our experiences, and more.
Secondly, no part of the "inclusionist agenda" involves leeching. Aces and aros being included in the community isnt going to work any different than any other group being in the community being included. That is to say that while we are separated we all share general community resources and support. Leeching off of the community implies we are going out of our way to take from someone else when that's not at all the case. Yall say it like we want being ace to be an all access pass to any community or some shit.
And finally, this isnt laziness. If we were so lazy, you wouldn't find countless YouTube channels and blogs (not just on tumblr either) dedicated to asexuality 101. You wouldn't see any aces marching in pride parades, you wouldn't see any pamphlets or infographics that talk about aces, there wouldn't be an ace awareness week, you wouldn't know about the ace flag, and you wouldn't even be in ace discourse. Yall would think "aces arent LGBT and we wouldn't do anything except for maybe a few people thinking that's not fair. We are putting in the work and the time. That's why there are books about asexuality, that's why there are ace activists writing articles and going to schools to talk about their experiences and orientation. Effort is occurring. Yall just dont like it because we arent putting in effort to do what you want.
You say make a separate community. We have already been doing that. Every LGBT+ community is separated but allied regardless of how yall like to soup us together for the express purpose of excluding aces. What I face for being gay is different than what another member of the community might face for being bi. My being trans is different than lesbian experiences. My being intersex gives me different experiences than other perisex trans people!
This community as we know it today was built not just by the gays, but on the backs of trans women of color decades ago. It was supported and shaped from people from all walks of life and different identities as time went on, with the express purpose to be more inclusive and to acknowledge that theres no one LGBT+ experience. Literally every group in the community other than cis white gays and lesbians were excluded from the community and had to make the community except them and even now fucking cis bisexuals get intracommunity hate. If you want to call people ahistorical actually sit down and acknowledge the shitty rocky road the community was built upon and the fact the community is constantly changing. Realize that not doing things the way you want them doesnt mean things arent happening.
And to be quite honest at this point I'm not even trying to "change your mind" or make yall accept aces and aros as LGBT+ by virtue of their ace and aroness. But a lot of the main arguments you have against it are severely flawed and come from a place of either misunderstanding or deliberate misrepresentation of facts. I just want your arguments to be better instead of looking like whiny complaining because an acey stole the color purple or the moon.
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i should post SOMETHIN sometime huh
have a work in progress short story im tapping out for my creative writing class. its an obscured horror piece about 6 coworkers trapped in a hollowed out ex-lsd club while something mysterious happens outside
Ignorance (working title)
We found ourselves in a decommissioned missile silo as the world went mad outside. I, along with my five colleagues, fresh from a car crash, sat in rows of three against the concrete walls and said nothing to one another. What was there to be said? We were all strangers in a situation that was utterly improbable; there was certainly no easy conversation that could spring from these circumstances.
I was licking my wounds on a jutted piece of concrete wall near the only door outside. This point was advantageous to me for two reasons: one, I had a full view of the others as they peddled about the silo, and two, I had the quickest escape route in case original tensions reared their ugly heads again. Surviving a mysterious car crash in the desert to later be shot dead by a vindictive coworker was not how I imagined myself going out. It didn’t have the pizzazz I craved, the drama. I wanted an accidental blackout-and-trampling at a nightclub, or a drug-induced murder-suicide with a lover whose name I might have never known-- you know, something that belonged on a 70s late night talk show. There was nothing 70s about Greylith putting two bullets between my eyes over a philosophical disagreement.
The man himself was glaring my way as I dug around in my pockets for my lighter. Dr. Greylith Hardcastle Ph.D., semi-famous ghost hunter, philosopher, and the world’s most brilliant narcissist. He was the type of genius who was well aware of himself and thus felt nothing when given the chance to prattle on about his various achievements, doctorates, cars, etcetera. Beside him was Miles, who was curled up tight as if actively trying to keep his limbs from springing out in fright at every faint noise. His nose was a whistle-- clogged with snot, maybe, or blood. I had seen him smack his face against the dash when we crashed. Miles was some sort of journalist, or maybe just a superfan of Greylith’s. He was always writing down something when he wasn’t cowering in fear at the thought of human interaction or leaving the doctor’s side. Despite his blanched face and noisy nose, he looked unharmed. I could only assume Greylith cleaned him up at some point after everyone found a place to rest. I found my lighter as Greylith’s eyes seemed to cling stubbornly to my nose.
I said, “Got something on my face, Greylith?” And he scowled and whispered something probably utterly hilarious and pretentious to Miles, whose thousand-yard stare still focused firmly on the toes of his canvas shoes. I offered Greylith a smile when he glanced back up at me and I waved my lighter in silent triumph before getting to work on finding my next oh-so-precious item; tobacco paper.
“Does… Does anyone know what we hit?” Gino, who was sitting a few feet down from my concrete slab, asked suddenly. I, who had been in the far back of the Humvee staring at my phone, said nothing. The four others all considered their answers and I knew, somehow, that they all were as clueless as I.
“We hit something. I know we did. How the fuck did the car flip if we didn’t hit somethin’?” Gino said, “Sam, you were driving? You should have seen it.”
“Yeah,” Sam’s head lifted, “Yeah, I was driving, but I didn’t see shit. Nothing was out there, just sand. There was nothing.”
“There had to be something.” Miles said, “Something, anything. Didn’t you see what happened to… To Alex? A car crash can’t do that. A car crash can’t…”
I slipped some tobacco paper out from my chest pocket and began shakily rolling a blunt on the dusty floor below me. Miles had fallen silent, coaxed back into a panic attack by his own memories. We were, at that moment, the same. My high was fading and I could see, again, that sterile white past bleed red in my peripherals. I hadn’t the patience for memories, so I lit the blunt and breathed in as much smoke as my lungs could hold.
Just a few feet from me was Elias, who huffed and said, “Must you?” In that fancy little accent of his. The crinkle of his nose indicated a specific distaste-- and suddenly I was aware it was not towards the weed. I combed a hand through my greasy hair.
“Yes.” I said, “Medication.” And Elias turned away, not satisfied, never satisfied, but at least content enough to keep from prodding at me like a frog spread wide open.
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[Fulfilled] Seriously (Un)Interested
Prompt: Changki + hate to love high school au with Christmas theme. They hate each other, IM is a good student while KH is a "bad boy", they fight every day and fight even more when their class go to the mountains 3 days and they end up sharing room + they have sex (bottom KH)
Fulfilled by Moderator M~
Words: 17,106 (no typo!), 6 chapters, lots of plot and a chapter of smut! Complete!
AO3 Link
(Chapter 1)
Kihyun had known about this trip for weeks now; it was a special Christmastime treat for their graduating class to go on a short vacation up in the mountains to experience, what the flyers described as being, a ‘picturesque image of Korea during Christmas’ during the first few days of their winter break. He’d shrugged it off as being some lame normie shit, and certainly wasn’t planning on going until Minhyuk had casually approached him about it a few days before the sign-up deadline.
“Hey kid,” Minhyuk casually said, plopping down onto the curb outside of one of the wings of their school beside Kihyun. It was just after classes ended for the day, and Kihyun had grabbed a quick snack at the vending machine before he took off. Minhyuk leaned across Kihyun’s body, roughly grabbing the bag of chips out of Kihyun’s hands, taking several handfuls and shoving them down his throat. Kihyun side-eyed the boy, adjusting his ripped-to-hell pants before lurching towards Minhyuk, snatching the chips back with an annoyed yelp.
“The fuck do you want?” Kihyun asked, already peeved at the boy he called his best-friend, and he’d only arrived a few seconds ago. Minhyuk laughed, happy to see Kihyun was in high spirits today. He grabbed the rumpled flyer from his back pocket, unfurling it and passing it to Kihyun.
“Let’s go on this trip,” Minhyuk said, and Kihyun immediately began grumbling, shaking his head while he passed the paper back to Minhyuk.
“Nah, I’ve seen it around school. I’m not interested, what’s there for us?” Kihyun asked, flashing his black rimmed eyes to Minhyuk, his implications clear. Minhyuk hummed in acknowledgment, but clearly had a reply prepared for this argument.
“What else are you gonna do? Besides, this is the last shindig before the break- let’s get blackout drunk and do stupid shit in log cabins in the mountains! C’mon, man,” Minhyuk said, waggling his eyebrows in some attempt to convince Kihyun of his plans. “We just turned 19- we can easily bring booze with us, it’s gonna be fun. Hoseok-hyung and Jooheony are coming too, along with a few other cool dudes willing to have fun,” Minhyuk continued, and Kihyun nodded his head, starting to warm up to the idea.
“Hm,” Kihyun said, humming. At the sight of Minhyuk wiggling around in some attempt to be cute, Kihyun shook his head, shoving Minhyuk with enough force to topple him over. “Okay, okay, I’ll go. Just cut that aegyo shit,” Kihyun said, laughing despite his harsh words. Minhyuk giggled, and then jumped up, getting excited.
“YES! I’ll go let the others know, make sure you fill out the sign-up sheet! It’s in room A108, please, please, please make sure you do it!” Minhyuk said, immediately running off, as if all he came there to do was convince Kihyun to go on this trip, not even sparing a ‘hello, how’s it going’. Kihyun rolled his eyes, not even giving the slightly-older boy a wave as Minhyuk ran off into the distance, his thick titanium steel chains rattling off as he ran. Kihyun put his chin in his hands, but didn’t otherwise question anything, taking another bite of his chips before going to room A108 and filling out that form. I mean, what better did he have to do?
Despite having said that he was going to tell the others, Minhyuk was actually going to tell somebody that Kihyun liked a whole lot less: Changkyun. Kihyun and Changkyun were practically sworn enemies at this point, and it seemed like their resentment had no end. There was something else too… Minhyuk had broken up with Changkyun only a few days ago, and while the feeling was mutual, it was still weird to talk to him normally. Despite how weird it would be talking to him, Minhyuk knew something about Changkyun and Kihyun’s true feelings for each other, something that led him to finding Changkyun at the tutoring center and showing him the same flyer he’d shown to Kihyun.
Walking into the familiar room, Minhyuk glanced around, getting flashbacks to when him and Changkyun were still dating, and Minhyuk would pick up Changkyun after he finished his tutoring lessons here. Changkyun would greet him with the cutest little pure smile, it made Minhyuk almost feel guilty for exclusively being interested in what was below his belt.
“Changkyunnie,” Minhyuk called out, startling Changkyun as he was about to enter his tutoring room, holding a stack of papers to teach some underclassman what appeared to be Physics. Turning around and recognizing who was calling him, Changkyun blanched, looking clearly uncomfortable with the situation. He smiled nervously, stopping in his tracks to walk over to Minhyuk, his steps short and nervous.
“What’s up?” Changkyun asked, trying to look casual despite the awkwardness obvious on his face. Minhyuk licked his lip, his tongue piercing visible and making a tinge of pink rise in Changkyun’s cheeks. They weren’t dating, for a good reason, but Changkyun could still remember what that tongue was capable of—
“You going on the senior trip?” Minhyuk asked, interrupting Changkyun’s guilty thoughts. Changkyun raised his eyebrows, curious as to why Minhyuk came all this way just to ask him a seemingly random question.
“Uh, yeah, actually. I am,” Changkyun answered, adjusting his papers and giving Minhyuk a curious look. Grinning, Minhyuk nodded, already stepping away to leave the building. Not trusting this, Changkyun stopped him, suddenly getting a bad feeling in his gut.
“Wait, is Kihyun going on the trip?” Changkyun asked, thinking that maybe the two of them were planning some criminal shit on the mountain. He wouldn’t put it past them, especially since Kihyun had been especially dickish to him lately. Minhyuk turned around, an interesting light sparkling in his eyes.
“What do you want? Do you want him to be there?” Minhyuk asked mysteriously, his lips curled in a small, amused smirk. Changkyun flushed, jolting back in surprise.
“Of course I don’t, why would I want that asshole there to ruin my trip?” Changkyun asked, but his heart started pounding, racing at the mere thought of Kihyun’s confident smirk, and hot gaze peeking from his wavy, gray hair. He turned his head, cheeks darkening the more he thought about him. “I hate him,” he added, almost as if he was trying to convince himself. Minhyuk nodded, clearly not buying it as he continued his journey out of the room.
“Whatever you say, hun,” Minhyuk breezily remarked, the glass door of the tutoring center slamming closed as he left. Changkyun pursed his lips, staring down at the floor as he processed that whirlwind. What did his ex even mean…? Seeing the time on his watch, Changkyun’s eyes widened, and he quickly bustled into the tutoring room, realizing that he was a minute late to his appointment now. Whatever this encounter meant, he could figure it out later. Right now, he had other things to attend to.
A few days later, their winter break officially began, which meant getting up and attending the bus for the senior trip at 5 AM. Kihyun and Minhyuk rode together, arriving at the meet-up spot a few minutes late, neither really caring about punctuality for this trip. Walking into the bus and noticing only a few empty seats in the front, and none in the back, Kihyun chuckled, thinking these kids were already trying to test him and this trip hadn’t even officially started yet.
Eyes flickering around the interior of the bus, Kihyun’s eyes widened, noticing that the person he least wanted to see was here on this bus with them. Clenching his jaw, Kihyun walked down the slim aisle, approaching Changkyun’s seat in the middle of the bus. Spotting his shitty, pretentious stare, something broke in Kihyun, and he ‘accidentally’ kicked the side of Changkyun’s seat, reveling in the way Changkyun lurched to avoid him.
“Oops,” Kihyun half-heartedly muttered, continuing to walk down the aisle and feeling significantly better now. He should’ve probably guessed that good-boy Changkyun would be attending such a wholesome school trip, but it still put a damper on his good mood. Deciding to just let it go, Kihyun arrived at the back of the bus, lighting up as he sees his friends there. At the row beside them, Kihyun leans down, looming over the two kids that had the gall to sit in HIS seat.
“Get up,” Kihyun said, voice cruel and unrelenting. Aware of Kihyun’s reputation, the two kids scrambled up, running over to the front of the bus to avoid Kihyun’s wrath. Clapping Kihyun on the shoulder, Minhyuk started laughing, amused with his feisty friend’s antics. Jooheon and Hoseok smiled at the two boys, used to Kihyun’s temper by now.
“Glad you could join us,” Jooheon said, extending a fist for Minhyuk to bump, smiling casually at the two boys. Hoseok nodded, his cute, sweet expression tingeing with concern.
“Yeah, you two were late!” Hoseok said, and Jooheon chuckled, wrapping his arm around Hoseok’s shoulders.
“He was worried you two had decided not to come,” Jooheon explained, the brim of his cap nuzzling against Hoseok’s hair, eyes dark in the shadow of his cap. Minhyuk giggled, and then went into a dramatic regaling of how Kihyun had overslept and forgot to pack which, according to Kihyun, was actually the complete other way around. The other two bust out into a fit of laughter, finding their bickering amusing and a welcome source of entertainment.
Soon, the bus took off, headed towards the mountains to the north of the city. The ride was pretty boring, as one would expect being cooped up in a bus with the majority of your graduating class around you. As they reached the mountains and began their upwards ascent to the cabins they would be staying at, Changkyun stared out of the window, gazing absently at the snow that was gently falling down onto the edge of the mountain. As they rounded the corner, however, his eyes widened, and he gasped, now able to see the entire surrounding land that was covered in a beautiful sheet of pure white. It was a picturesque, dreamlike winter-scape, and Changkyun felt all of his negative feelings drip away at the sight, utterly enamored with the natural beauty.
Just as he was starting to really appreciate the serenity and peace, one of the teachers at the head of the bus stands up, clearing his throat loudly enough to startle Changkyun out of his daze.
“Alright guys, I know you’ve all been waiting on this. I’m announcing the rooming assignments for the next three days. Now, pay attention so we can make this easier when we get out,” he said, voice pleading as he said the last line. The entire bus looked up with interest as he began listing the names, the majority sounding like pretty standard pairings. Changkyun glanced over at Hyunwoo to his left, smiling gently over at the tan boy and wondering if he would get the assignment that he most wanted.
“Im Chankgyun and Yoo Kihyun,” the teacher said, his own voice faltering slightly at the odd pairing. Changkyun’s eyes widened and he turned around in his seat, glaring over at Kihyun. The entire class stared over at the two, hushed voices whispering as they tried to figure out why two boys that clearly hated each other would want to be roomed together. Meeting Changkyun’s gaze, Kihyun frowned, clenching his jaw as he slowly shook his head. He knew he shouldn’t try to pick a fight in a moving bus, so he held himself back, saving his anger for later.
Watching the two boys boil over in rage, Minhyuk chuckled, glad that his plan worked. He smoothed down the front of his shirt, eyes flickering to look out the window.
“I think a lot of things are about to change on this mountain. If nothing else, this is going to be an interesting trip~”
Chapters 2-6 can be read here! (link)
#changki#fulfilled request#smut#christmas fluff#christmas fic#christmas#christmas smut#im changkyun#yoo kihyun#monsta x#monsta x fanfic#fanfic#fanfiction#kpop fanfic
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I just read your Lemonhope/PB essay from a while back and it's really interesting, opened me up to how poorly PB treated basally all the lemons. So do you not think that Phlannel Boxingday was PB in disguise? It was ambiguous but I always thought it was pretty heavily implied that PB was the one in disguise trying to get Lemonhope to do what she wanted through deception, interested to hear why you think that wasn't her. Just neat stuff overall.
this answer got long but uh first off thank you??? i could talk abt lemon ppl forever they make me so happy, but when i try to write with proper grammar about them i feel like im being pretentious lmao anyways onto your question because holy SHIT:
IM A FOOL FOR NEVER THINKING OF THAT WHAT THE FUCK
i mean i suppose it totally could be….. similar color scheme/initials, same thing she did with finn about tearing off martin’s arm… but like…. idk. doesn’t sit right with me but i could buy it. her treatment of lh seems really different from how phlan treats him which makes me really feel like they’re different, he seems more like a truly kindhearted dude who just picked up a lost little kid than pb trying to convince lh to do what she wanted…… hhmm…. ghhhg
gotta think abt this huh
i guess her following after lh and messing around in a cloud before revealing herself to him makes sense
and like, hindsight is 20/20 so i could also see her realizing after lh runs off all the things she did that hindered him, and mentioning them through phlan as a way of roundaboutly apologizing (’ah lemonhope you learn with your hands not your head’ stands out to me mostly bc it seemed like a really nice thing for phlan to say to this poor kid who couldn’t do anything to please his teacher, but i guess i could see it being pb going ‘geez of COURSE he never learned to read…… i see why now, gotta make sure he knows it isnt his fault’)
i mean, also his whole ‘the way i see it youve got two options’ seemed like an outside perspective based on what lh has told him, but…… yeah i guess it does also seem like it could be pb going ‘youve got two options: suffer bc you cant live on your own obviously and youre wracked w guilt, or alleviate your guilt!'
this is literally the worst thing i cant believe my nice sweet son, the best Dad™ in at, could be pb, The morally gray Mom™
also im sad that if he is pb, we dont get the Worldbuilding™ of lemongrab having locked up his entire kingdom from everyone, not just people who are close to and familiar w the laws. loved that minor characters knew shit was going down in his earldom. but i also have a soft spot for characters knowing my favorite characters’ names, so idk.
hm
i guess also i gotta like. do this: assuming they are two different ppl, imagine the part where lh thinks he sees his family falling out of the greed lard and screams at phlan the stop and go back for them, bc like, phlan listens to him and reassures him that nothing bad has happened. because tbh… idk if i can imagine pb doing it so thoroughly. she might tell him 'no lh look it’s not them it’s just treasure’ but i cant see her turning the ship around, parking it, getting out and walking lh over to gently reassure him that everything’s alright and show him it’s okay. Maybe. could be, if she’s actively trying to not treat him the same way that clearly wasn’t working when he was in the candy kingdom. same when phlan has like coal or. smth i cant remember, and hes going on and on abt how excited he is to use them to make a love potion and stuff, and he accidentally drops them off the edge of the boat and goes like 'ah shoot,’ but when he sees lh looking upset he quickly goes 'hey, it’s not your fault buddy, i’m not mad’ like idk. i dk. im not a pb stan and idk all her characteristics but i cant see her picking up on lemonhope being upset and immediately jumping to 'that wasn’t your fault,’ but i could be wrong.
i guess what i’m saying is i could see it if phlan was just pb but i do nOT WANT TO because phlannel fucking boxingday is the nicest, most caring adult in adventure time i’ve ever seen in my life and i don’t want to believe he’s not still running around making lost kids feel good about themselves and see their own worth
esp since it clearly worked with lemonhope, but pb doesnt seem to have continued acting like phlan (speaking gently and evenly and being more patient and understanding with kids, even if just to get what she wants) even though lh definitely benefited from being treated like that. but tbf she (at this pt, after ‘you made me’) seems to be pretty aware of how lemon people don’t need the same things candy people do, so maybe she would think if lh benefited from it, candy kids wouldn’t? maybe she just hasn’t interacted with v many sad little kids since the lh special. idk. my knowledge of stuff after s6 gets kinda fuzzy since i dont have them on dvd to watch on loop in the background while i do stuff
idk this got long but i could talk about lemons and phlannel fuckin boxingday forever sorry tldr: i never Made that connection before, i can see how it might totally be true, but i really really like phlan and want to believe he’s still out there so i’m gonna stick to believing they’re two different people >:(
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Epic Movie (Re)Watch #106 - An American in Paris
Spoilers below.
Have I seen it before: No
Format: Blu-ray
1) The only person I know who shows up in this movie is Gene Kelly and that’s 100% because of his work in Singin’ in the Rain.
2) First line.
Jerry: “This is Paris and I’m an American who lives here.”
You know, I kinda figured that out from the title. But thanks.
3) Gene Kelly’s Jerry is pretty much the personification of so many art students.
Jerry [about people criticizing his work in English]: “They might be saying the same thing over here [in Paris] but it sounds better in French.”
4) If only more art students I knew were as honest as Adam.
Adam: “Im a concert pianist. That’s a pretty pretentious way of saying I’m unemployed.”
5) This whole relationship is a little bothersome to me.
Adam [about his friend’s lover]: “She’s a little young for you, isn’t she?”
Henri: “No! She’s only 19!”
The actor playing Henri was 36 and Gene Kelly - who played the other man in this woman’s life - was twice her age at 38. Not only that, but we learn the reason this girl (Lise) is with Henri is because during the war he took her in and looked after her while her parents were on the run. That sounds more like a father figure than anything else...and they have sex because of it.
(GIF originally posted by @centralperksource)
6) The use of ballet to introduce Lise and the contradicting parts of her personality (which, outside of the ballet, we don’t really get to see) is a unique device.
7)
Henri [about Lise]: “She’s the gayest girl in the world!”
Have you watched “Supergirl”? I beg to differ.
I’m sorry, I had to make that joke.
8) Jerry has this little monologue about how he’s depressed because he doesn’t have any money and what he does to get un-depressed involves the spending of money on things to cheer him up...which he can’t do because he doesn’t have money (which is why he’s depressed in the first place). Almost every art and college student alive can relate to that.
9) In most musicals characters are not aware that they are singing and dancing. In An American in Paris though, there are many onlookers enjoying the random song and dance numbers that take place near the cafe where Gene Kelly and company frequent. Which presents so many logic questions, the primary of which is this: how are they so good at randomly breaking into song and dance while having it be perfect?
10) Remember how I said Jerry is representative of so many art students?
Jerry [to a woman who was critiquing his art]: “If you say something nice it won’t make me feel better and if you don’t it’ll bother me.”
And then there’s this.
Jerry [when someone offers to pay him money]: “Gee, I don’t know.”
Milo [the woman offering the money for his work]: “You don’t know?”
Jerry: “I never thought it’d be an issue.”
11) There are a lot of great songs in this musical, but I have to say “I Got Rhythm” is probably my favorite. It just has a lot of fun and a nice positive energy.
12) I love Milo. She is a layered female character who is as interesting (if not more so) than the male characters and even reprimands Jerry for his fragile masculinity at one point.
I wish we’d gotten more of her. I wish she and Jerry would have ended up together, but there wasn’t any passion in their relationship. Just mutual respect (which is nice).
13)
Jerry [to Milo]: “You should get married again. You need it...everyone does.”
14) Ah the “meet cute” which is actually “meet creepy” because Jerry is just staring at Lise - a girl he doesn’t know - from across the club and then forces her to dance with him.
(GIF originally posted by @ohrobbybaby)
Lise: “Now please, I would like to return to my table.”
Jerry: “In a minute.”
No. NOW. She told you what she wants. You’re making her uncomfortable. This isn’t cute, this is you forcing her into a situation she has said she doesn’t want to be in so let her go dude.
15) This random woman at Lise’s work, well...
Wendy: “I always get a rash if I have to decide anything.”
You should have that looked at. Either by a doctor or a psychologist, because making decisions for yourself is like the most basic thing human beings need to be able to do. Do you get a rash whenever you have to decide what you’re going to have for breakfast? What you’re going to wear? Do you make any decisions for yourself? Am I reading too much into a one off line? Should I move on?
16) This movie - like many movie musicals - features someone tap dancing on a piano while it’s being played. Wouldn’t that mess up the sound of the piano?
17) Most movie musicals use a song as a break from the story (the best exception being The Nightmare Before Christmas) and An American in Paris isn’t really any different. It’s like the movie hits pause for a little while to give us this song and dance. It’s entertaining, but is it necessary?
18) This line may not have been so true if I didn’t watch this movie at the end of 2016.
Jerry: “Civilization has a natural resistance against improving itself.”
19) This lyric may not have been so powerful if I didn’t watch this movie at the end of 2016.
Henri [singing]: “I’ll build a stairway to paradise with a new step everyday.”
That’s a good motto for 2017.
20) There is this extended scene inside concert pianist Adam’s head where he is having a concert. In this concert Adam serves as pianist, conductor, audience members, and even some other random musicians. It’s an interesting peak into who he is as a character, while also being the most development we get for him.
21)
Adam [after Jerry is relating woman problems]: “Women act like men and still want to be treated like women.”
Or you know, people. They want to be treated like people.
22) When Adam realizes that Jerry is dating Henri’s girlfriend - something neither of them know - his reaction is absolutely hilarious. ESPECIALLY when Henri sits down and begins talking about Jerry’s love life without realizing who Jerry’s dating. Even giving romantic advice! And Adam is just freaking out, trying to smoke a cigarette, dropping it in his coffee, drinking his coffee, smoking the cigarette, etc. He even tries to change the subject!
Adam: “Did I ever tell you about the time I gave a command performance for Hitler?”
Watching Adam in this scene is what makes it and I love that.
23) Oh, and then Jerry and Henri sing a song about how beautiful the women in their lives are not realizing it’s the same woman in both their lives.
24) Lise [when Jerry asks him if she’s in love with Henri]: “It doesn’t matter if I am or not.”
FUCK THAT!!!! DON’T MARRY SOMEONE OUT OF A SENSE OF DUTY!!! ONLY MARRY THEM OUT OF LOVE!!! THAT’S IT!!!
25) The entire film has had Adam telling Jerry that Milo being his sponsor is a bad idea. Then Adam and Milo meet at a bar in a New Year’s Eve party and Adam starts bashing on Jerry’s sponsor saying it’s a bad idea.
Milo: “I’m Jerry’s sponsor.”
Adam: “I know you are.”
26) This final scene is...classic movie musical to a fault.
It’s this 20 minute ballet with no lyrics replaying a bit of how Jerry and Lise actually met and a bit of how he wishes things had gone, but is mostly just how the dude is feeling at the moment when she breaks up with him. If you’ve seen La La Land you’ll definitely see that it takes some inspiration from this scene artistically speaking.
But my feelings on something like this have always been that it is entertaining on stage with a live audience, when there’s that tension of the possibility of messing up, but when it’s in a movie it’s prerecorded. They’ve done it already perfectly or else it wouldn’t be in the film. So it’s not as entertaining to me and when it goes on for 20 minutes (and is basically the end of the film) it bores me a little.
I think this is just something that has become a victim to changing tastes, and was probably really well regarded in its time.
I liked An American in Paris. It’s not the best old school movie musical I’ve seen (Singin’ in the Rain might have that honor), but Kelly is entertaining as ever, the music is good, and the art design is very compelling especially during that last ballet. If you’re a fan of cinema as a whole or musicals specifically, you should see it at least once.
Up next: Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgundy.
#An American in Paris#Gene Kelly#Oscar Levant#Leslie Caron#Musical#Epic Movie (Re)Watch#Movie#Film#GIF
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