#holy cow. gonna have to check the word count on this. Sorry this is a lot nonnie but there is so much to talk about with them

[daincrediblegg]

I need all the lore about Lamb and Standish too. When did they become so dependent on each other? Did they ever get drunk together back in the day? Did they ever sleep together? We know he cares about her a lot and feels guilty AND protective over her since Partner, but does he actually love her and is he in denial about this? I have so many questions

OK OK OK SO. I just finished the first book (woohoo) and. I am honestly so thrilled to say that what little lore we got from the first book at least aligned a lot with some of the stuff that I had come to my own conclusions about from having watched the show... way too many times now. And I have to say- real credit to Saskia and Gary and Will Smith for putting it together in the show the way they did because man. I feel like they give us so many subtextual clues and they really capitalize on each and every one of them that it makes doing my job as a film scholar just super fun.

Anways- on the Standish and Lamb situation? I have lots of thoughts. Most of which I wrote down last night in a complete stupor because this is what keeps me up at night thinking about this character dynamic. So buckle up. We're gonna ramble our way through my own thoughts and ideas about all this.

Like to start, to me it seems that they really never had much contact at all back in the day, and that makes sense: considering Jackson's mostly in Berlin playing Moscow rules in the field while Standish is at home holding the fort for Charles, there's not a lot of overlap with each other physically but they did know each other as much as they needed to know at the time: Standish was Partner's drunk PA, and Lamb was the Joe of All Joes (can I make it any more obvious?). What little contact they may have ever had was certainly mostly through Charles, and the show gives us some insight to that giving us that little flashback that Catherine has where she seemingly meets Lamb for the first time after "Berlin's blown" (which could mean either the wall came down as Lamb says to Catherine in his half-confession, or that he's referring to the incident that he describes to Katinsky in season 2, and of these two options, my money is on the latter). That looks like a woman being very confused meeting someone she's never really seen before in her life to me (or perhaps has seen while drunk at one time, but doesn't much remember).

I mean most of the rest I feel like I can glean from the incidents themselves. Both of them getting relegated to Slough House after Charles' death seems natural- Catherine with her near miss of a treason charge and Lamb with the fact that he literally assassinated First Fucking Desk of MI5. And it's easy to see how the co-dependency came from there. Catherine as an alcoholic going through AA specifically, seems to revolve around structure to keep herself in check- the way she talks about Charles Partner in Season 2 helps with this. The fact that he payed for her treatment and in return- probably partially because of this need for structure- she latched onto her job as a way to compensate so that she doesn't end up in the same dark place again. So, then being Lamb's secretary, it's still the same kind of structure that she needs, even though this time it doesn't feel as rosy as it might have done with Partner.

- And this is a point that I think about a lot. She does view her whole relationship with Partner with rose colored glasses, even though if you listen to what she's actually saying in those flashbacks from season 1, she's done his laundry, is planning his outfits, put out his flowers- she was doing nothing more than some kind of glorified paid house wife kind of shit for him (and in FACT! I was fooled my first go around season 1 like I genuinely thought that she was deadass his WIFE or something. I think that misconception on my part says a LOT). And Lamb in parallel to that is a great come down from that mountaintop-that she sees herself and Partner as this idylic Q and Money Penny type of thing that she's romanticized in her head for the last 20 years- an illusion that Lamb on every level shatters and is - at least to his credit- honest about. As much as he inconveniences her and as much as he's his raw unfiltered self around her (which- he certainly is more of that around Standish than anyone else he knows. River gets a lot of brutal honesty from Jackson, but none to do with emotional sincerity- like the way Lamb tells Standish the half-truth of Partner's death, and why he *chose* slough house), as much as he's a bully he's still doesn't give her any illusion of what their relationship is or isn't, and no one would see that as a mark of respect on account of him being an "utter bastard", but is all of that really worse than Charles pretending to be her best friend and all the while planning to have her take the fall for him behind her back? (Personally? It's a different kind of bad but Charles is definitely the worst). And it's extra funny situationally because then all of the things she says about how Partner treated her is much more close to the mark to what Lamb did for her, and things that weren't superficial either. "I know that unlike you, he respected me" ("christ, Standish was right", always updates her on what he knows when appropriate and always has her sit in on debriefs when it's safe), "he showed me friendship"(he always pours out a drink for her that he ends up drinking himself, always when things are going to come down on her deals with it *himself* rather than relegate it to the fuck-ups, always has her up to date on things -unless it means blowing cover), "and he believed in me" (he gave HER the gun and let her delegate the hijacking of the MI5 car from Duffy and Webb, let HER do the cool agent stuff, also lets her do some of the investigative work- especially in season 2 when he doesn't interrupt her at ALL when she keeps up with the camera trail on- but also knows her limits, especially in the house of hell where he stuffs her in a closet knowing she can't be of more use because *he* knew he could kill Hobbs, but "now I won't shoot you dead, Mr. Webb,"), "and he kept me on, when anyone else would have thrown me to the wolves."(which is exactly what he did when Partner died, and all the information came out that Partner was going to peg it on her. It wouldn't surprise me if he took the hit for that too in some way. If him getting her treason charge dropped might also be part of why he ended up in Slough House - which if the op was sanctioned initially by David Cartwright might hold some weight. Maybe that was David cleaning up and covering arse like Taverner would do. Maybe Catherine *was* supposed to take the fall, but Jackson refused to let that happen? But that's just a theory. A Slough House Theory).

But the bigger question in this is of course: why? Why on god's green earth does Jackson Lamb give a shit, and why is he so dependent on Standish?

The solution to this feels multi-pronged. First: I think that he has a bit of a chip on his shoulder about innocent people getting caught in the cross-fire of the things that MI-5 get up to, and Catherine fits that bill better than anybody he knows. In season 2 when he talks about the women agents whose deaths he was directly responsible for, he describes it as something he "wishes [he] could unsee"- which for Lamb is saying a lot, considering that to most things (heads on tables, faces blown off with shotguns) he doesn't bat an eye, and even says he's seen worse. What happened to those women and the fact that what he said made that happen I think affected him more deeply than he lets on in that scene, because even though Charles Partner didn't know who they were at all outside of a codename, Jackson did, and probably knew them very well. And Charles as their shadowy overlord who was just moving them like pieces on a chessboard never had to pay the emotional price for that, nor did David Cartwright. But Lamb did. Because as much as he denies it to keep people looking the other way, Lamb does have a heart, and it's hard to earn but it's not impossible.

And he always does take the emotional fall for things! He says in season 4 that he "had a heart until he worked for [David Cartwright]" whom he also said "gave [him] a job once". The way those lines conflict in tone but also reveal a lot about how he views his own fall from grace says so much. David Cartwright got him into this business, but under his direction he hardened for it (something that I think connects him to River more than that boy will ever understand. Also is what makes Lamb a better mentor than Peepaw Cartwright, but that's another story) not to mention that for all intents and purposes, Lamb and Partner were actually good friends, and that this betrayal and the fact that he had to do it himself (even though maybe his feelings were mixed on the matter- that maybe he even loved Partner too in a similar way that Standish did at one point in time, but the lives lost from his betrayal weighed on Lamb more- and as we all know, from Catherine's own mouth, he'll do anything to get even for his Joes).

Which brings me to my second point: Jackson Lamb wants to be the hero just as much as his protege River Cartwright does, but the reality of their whole line of work is that there are very few instances in which anyone gets to be, but Catherine is one of the rare exceptions where he did, and all told, it doesn't feel good. Because there's a couple things at play here right? On the one hand yeah- he did save her from being thrown to the wolves after Partner died and framed her for his crimes! Yes he kept her from facing a treason charge, yes he covers her arse time and time again. But she still is the person who had to find the body. And as we know with Lamb, he knows how bad it is to have found the body better than anyone (I mean- I point to how he reacts to Min's death, and then to Bad Sam's in season 4- so enraged he storms out but also so depressed he steals his last bottle of booze). He didn't get to spare her from that, but he is trying to spare her from the rest of it too(an impulse he couldn't help but let go in the last episode of season 3- while still not incriminating himself, mind you), and that's hard! Because he's not supposed to have a heart ("What goodness? What heart?", "Oh have a heart, Jackson!") but he DOES! And he's taken it upon himself to break it time and time again just so he can keep himself at the top of his game- even though, and here's the secret: it's his heart that makes him the best at what he does! Because he does get involved! "I think your attention has been split between finding [Hassan Ahmed] and burning me!"- he does on some level actually give a shit about lives lost! Something Lady Di and Tearney and Duffy and even Cartwright Sr. don't consider when THEY play the game. And he cares about the kind of people that have everything to lose from the actions of the people at the top! And he'll martyr himself about it over and over again because he's got the skill better than anyone to do it and he knows it! And to make sure Standish stays right where she is- out of harms way- he'll fucking go to the ends of... idk England. Probably. To make sure she stays out of harms way where she belongs. And as a thread running co-current to that: I think he understands how much having found Partner's body haunts her every waking moment more than she knows- from his own experience, though he's definitely got a higher body count. They all weigh on him just the same ("By the time I was your age, I'd lost a baker's dozen. It was bad enough when the wall was up, but once they reduced it to bricks and rubble, everything went to shit. Whole networks of Joes, rounded up, blown. I haven't forgotten any of them. And I won't forget Sid.")

And then, on the other side of the dice, I think there's also a bit of a self-torture mixed with sadism that's a part of why he keeps her around too. I mean in a lot of ways it seems that it is absolute torture to him to keep Catherine around, considering she's always harping on about cHaRlEs PaRtNeR (who as we have established- it grates on Jackson that in Catherine's mind Partner is a knight in shining armor when really *he* did all of that way more than Partner ever did for her- though I don't even think Lamb would give himself the credit for that he can't stand that she sees him that way when he was disenchanted and knew all these horrible truths about what he did to his own people for money), and part of that co-dependency is (and I hate to say it) is that he needs to torture SOMEONE other than himself externally for his own friendship with Partner and literally Catherine is the only person with a shred of shared history that he can really do that to. And at the same time, she gets to do it to him. He gets to let her torture him also just a little bit ("What did your last servant die of?" "What did your last boss die of?"). He thrives off of that push and pull of torturing others while actually torturing himself. It's his own fucked up emotional bdsm basically.

Now of course to the biggest question of all: Is it love? Who's to say? Can Lamb ever cut the bullshit and admit to himself that his feelings about the whole Partner situation haunt him like his own shadow? Forever attached to his being? Can Standish ever see beyond her rose-colored glasses about Partner and give Jackson some forgiveness before he farts himself into an early grave for it? I don't know but they're on the fucking clock and I tend to swing back and forth like a pendulum on the notion (like I wouldn't say I ship them, but I wouldn't say that I don't either. Secret third thing: they're just really narratively fucking interesting and that gets me off just as well as anything else so? Yeah I guess).

[hutchersonsgurl]

Somethin about you Shane Walsh x reader

Paring yn greene with shane walsh

Synopsis you and Shane were together before the world fell and now you are meeting again when it ended. So now that the world has fallen you do everything in your power to protect your daughter

Special thanks to my bb @taylormarieee

⚠️ warnings blood smut 18+ graphic violence MDNI.

Word count:

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🥀Shane was the type of person where you can look at him and he'll either break your heart or fulfill it. You were one of those people who tried to guess. And believe it or not, the guess you made was completely wrong. He fulfilled your life with love. He didn't break it until later. Now the end of the world has happened and you could only imagine if he's either alive or one of these brain-dead zombies. 🥀

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You were outside milking the cows when your dad came outside to tell you that your daughter Faith had woken up you walk into the house as you pick Faith up you hear screaming coming from outside you walk outside the front door to see two people you never thought you'd see again

"Rick? Carl? Oh my God what happened?" you ask

"He's been shot, please help us," Rick says shaking

You don't even see who's running in the background you tell your dad to help Carl

You gave Faith to Beth to watch her as you helped your dad get Carl stable you walked Rick out of the room to go sit down

*Maggie goes out to find lori to bring her to the farm*

"Here you go," you say as you hand Rick something to drink

As you stand up you see Shane standing in the doorway

"Holy sh--------" Shane says as he sees you

You walk away to go check on Maggie Beth and your daughter

You hear Shane and Rick talking as you walk into your bedroom

You pick up Faith from the bed and you walk out to see what is going on in the living room Otis your dad and Rick are talking

"What's going on? "You ask

"I need a respirator to be able to do surgery on Carl "your dad says

"What do we do? "You ask

The old high school they should have supplies there Otis says

"Well I said leave the rest to me is it to late to take that back?" Shane says jokingly

I'll go with you I know my way around you otis says

"Are you sure?" Shane asks

"We can talk about this till the sun comes up or we can get it done right quick" Otis says

"I'd take right quick" Shane says

"I'm coming with you two" you say going to your room for your stuff

"Honey why won't you let the boys handle it" your dad says

"No dad they'll need back up and like momma always said never let a man do a female's job" you said

You walk over to maggie who's holding Faith "mommy is gonna be right back I'm gonna help some friends okay?" You say as you give your daughter a kiss on the cheek

You give your dad a kiss on the cheek and hug him as you turn around you see shane staring at Faith like he knows something

I can't thank y'all enough rick says

No problem rick you know I always have your and Carl's back

"Honestly yn you really don't have to go "lori say as she comes up behind rick

"I got this lori and If you could help keep an on faith that would be great " you say

"Of course lori says as she hugs you"

The three of you head outside and get into the truck

"Are you sure about this?" Shane asks

"Of course I am I ain't no damsel in destress" you say as you roll your eyes

"You two know each other? "Otis asks

"Yeah this is my ex boyfriend remember"? You ask

"Oh the dude who couldn't keep it in his pan- oops sorry" Otis says as he continues to drive

"You know something about you seems different yn" Shane says

"What's different besides the fact I ain't waiting on you to change" you respond back

The rest of the drive was quiet until you guys reached the high school

You open the door to get out grabbing your knife from your back pocket

"Yn you really should stay behind us" Shane says

"I'm good I can handle myself thank you" you say

"You really are your mother's daughter "Otis says

As you start to walk towards the back door you notice that there's two walkers hanging by the door

"Yn wai---" Shane says as he cuts off to chase after you

You walk up to one of the walkers and kick one in the knee and and stab it in the back of the head same with the other one

"Holy shit you took down two walkers "Shane says in shock

"Told you I can handle myself" you say as you walk into the school

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Part 2 coming soon

Not edited

Lemme know what y'all think

[thegryffindorprincess]

Two In A Bed//Draco Malfoy x Reader

A/N: Holy Cow I’ve finally reached 100 followers wow! Firstly, thank you! Secondly, I’ve promised myself I’m gonna post at least three days a week from now on, so feel free to send any requests you have my way! Enjoy this little cliche piece of ‘two exes have to share a bed’.

Set: Post War

Word Count: 1,550

Warnings: swearing, drinking, sexual tension, SMUT

Y/N Y/L/N dragged her black suit case behind her as she climbed the stone steps to the grand country hotel that towered in front of her. She hovered at the door, pausing to check her apperance in the glass before pushing them open. The grand hallway was decorated in silver and green- very Pansy she thought to herself as she wandered over to the check-in desk. 

“Hi, I’m a guest at Pansy and Theo’s wedding tomorrow?” The bored teenage wizard behind the desk flicked through the parchment guest list and once Y/N had told him her name, he handed her a small silver key; room three hundred and two. Making her way up the stairs, struggling a little with her suitcase, her mind began to wonder whether Draco would be attending. Since she moved to America for work, she’d heard nothing from her ex and was even slightly surprised to have been invited to Pansy’s wedding. When she reached her room, Y/N struggled with the lock before finally unlocking the door and throwing it open. As she lugged her suitcase in, eyes to the ground, she was shocked when her body hit into a much taller one. 

“What a pleasant surprise Y/L/N.” God, his voice was so smooth, Cheeks flushed red, Y/N met Draco’s bright, blue eyes, taking in his appearance. He hadn’t changed much, he was still tall, pale and well dressed. 

“What are you doing in my room?” Was the only thing Y/N could mumble as she attempted to avoid his fixed gaze. 

“My room, you mean.” Y/N huffed before showing him her key only to find out he was holding up an identical one. 

“There must be some mistake, we can’t share this room,” Y/N began to pace, “Merlin’s sake it’s only got one bed.” Draco laughed at her a little. 

“It’s not ideal for me either darling, Pansy didn’t want my wife here and now has me sharing a bed with another women.” He suddenly stood, gently sliding his feet into his shoes, “I’ll go and sort it out.” 

Y/N watched as he left, sitting down on the bed, raking her hands through her hair. She heard the door open and instead of seeing Draco, Pansy stood at the door, face contorted in a sneaky smile. 

“If this wasn’t your wedding, I would kill you.” Y/N warned as Pansy walked over to join her on the bed, Pansy giggling quietly. 

“I couldn’t help myself, you’re just still in love with eachother and I wanted to help.” She smirked. Y/N shot her a dangerous scowl, which Pansy rolled her eyes at.

“He’s married Pans, for fuck sake.” 

“Yeah, an arranged, loveless marriage.” The words left her mouth, causing Y/N’s jaw to drop to the floor, Draco entered, causing the two of them to quickly regain composure. He announced that the wizard at the desk had instructed him to talk to Pansy about his room problem. 

“Sorry Drakey, there’s no rooms left,” Pansy said slyly before making her way to the door, “so you two will just have to be very grown-up and share.” With that, she left, giving Y/N a small wink as she closed the door. 

Draco and Y/N sat in silence for a while before either of them decided to speak. Then they launched into deep conversation, talking about her travels, his work, their lives and it felt as if they’d never lost contact. Draco didn’t mention Astoria once. When dinner time rolled around, Draco got ready first, letting Y/N have the bathroom for as long as she needed. When she stepped out in her knee length green dress, Draco was unsure on where to look. Instead, he simply let Y/N take his arm as he led her to the dining hall to meet the other guests. The dinner was spectacular, Y/N wondered how much the whole thing had cost Theo’s parents. The alcohol was effectively unlimited and before long Y/N was beginning to feel a little dizzy. As guests began leaving, she attempted to stand, swaying on the balls of her feet. Draco ran to her rescue, one of his strong arms sweeping around her waist to help her up the stairs. When they reached their room, he helped her in, leaving her to stand while he fetched her water. 

“I’m going to get undressed now.” Y/N announced, half shouting, swaying in her seat as she sat down on the bed. “Don’t look freak.” Draco threw his arms up in mock innocence before turning around to face the wall while she took off her dress. “You can look now.” He turned back to look at her and audibly sighed when he saw her in just her underwear. “Liking what you see Malfoy.” Y/N teased. She stood and before she could stop herself she was standing in front of him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and leant in, closing the gap between them. Draco’s hands found her waist and he pulled her into him, returning her kiss with twice the passion. Then all of a sudden, he pulled back, pushing her from him gently. 

“I’m sorry, I can’t do this.” He whispered. He silently gathered his stuff from the room and sent her a sympathetic look. “I’m married.” Y/N watched him stuff his suitcase, still standing, saying nothing. Draco strode to the door, pulling his suitcase behind him. As he opened the door to leave he turned on his heal to look back at her. “I can’t fall in love with you again.” And with that, he left. 

XXXX

Y/N awoke to gentle rays of winter sunshine peaking through the gap in the curtains. She groaned as she remembered last night and realised her head was pounding relentlessly. Y/N stretched out in the kingsize bed before rolling over to look at the time. Eleven AM- shit. The wedding started in half an hour. She quickly jumped from the bed, sprinting around the room, perfecting her makeup, curling her hair and squeezing into her silver dress. She was finished just in time and sprinted down the hotel stairs and into the grand hall, throwing herself onto her seat. 

“Rough night last night Y/L/N?” Blaise teased as she let out a deep breath. 

“Fuck off Zabini.” She spat, he let out a chuckle. The wedding was beautiful, Pansy’s dress was stunning, the ceremony emotional and the wedding dinner as immaculate as the night before. Y/N barely drunk today though, regretting her actions last night. Draco was a no show to any part in the wedding, which left Y/N with a pit in her stomach, knowing he’d gone back to his wife. She left the wedding disco early, before anyone else, making her way back to her room at only eleven at night. As she flounced down her bed there was a soft knock on the door. 

“Go away Pansy.” Y/N yelled.  The door opened anyway, causing her to groan. 

“Not Pansy.” Draco appeared at the foot of the bed, causing Y/N to sit bolt upright. He nervously played with the family ring that snaked around his pale finger. “My wife’s fucking her boss.” He sat down next to her. 

“Oh,” Y/N sighed, “I’m sorry Dray...” 

“I’m not.” Draco suddenly turned towards her, placing his hand on her thigh, making her gasp a little. “It means I can do what I wanted to do yesterday.” With that he pulled her into him by her jaw, causing Y/N to release a shaky moan. “I’m going to file for a divorce,” He whispered while placing sloppy kisses onto her neck, “not that I ever loved her.” He swiftly fell to his knees, using a firm hand to part Y/N’s legs. “Fuck.” Y/N watched as Draco rolled and buttoned his shirt sleeves, showing off his forearm, the dark mark poking dangerously under the sleeve. With that he pulled Y/N towards him, nestling his head between her legs, dragging his ring finger over her clothed slit. She moaned again quietly, watching his every movement. 

“Are you sure you want this angel?” He asked, suddenly softly. 

“Yes. Draco I-” He suddenly moved her panties to the side before pushing his face against her pussy. He began to eat out so slow and sensually, Y/N felt like she was going to explode. Draco ate her until her legs began to shake, letting her cum on his face. Then he twisted her round, arching her back with his hands. His pale hand came down onto her ass with a smack before he teased her entrance with his tip. 

“Fuck me Draco, please.” Y/N moaned quietly. Draco needed no more motivation, pushing his entire length into her, causing her to writhe beneath him. He began to pound into her at a ridiculous pace, not giving Y/N time to think. Draco’s hand came down to grab her hair into his fist, pulling her neck back so that their eyes met. 

“Sorry princess, I just want to see your face when I cum in you.” With that Y/N’s legs gave way once more, her mouth screaming his name along with many profanities. With a few more thrusts, Draco came inside of her with a groan, pulling out and inspecting his work. Then, he leant down, placing a tender kiss to her forehead. 

“I should’ve never left.” 

[son-fuori-di-me]

"I had no idea I could change someone's life."

One Shot. Word Count | Around 3300. Description | <French female pov> you're visiting Rome for the first time, and you casually meet Damiano David the day before the Circo Massimo concert. The conversation takes a unexpected path.

Content | Real talk. No romantic development. * Expect French idioms and italian approximations from automatic translators

---

"Bordel, c'est immense !" ("Holy cow, that's big !") I said, looking at the Circo Massimo.

It was my first time in Rome. Knowing Italy a bit, I expected a hell lot of sun, a delicious bunch of ice cream for each meal, and tons of pretty things to snap with my phone. Well, that was the plan for my first two days there. Cause Saturday would be a very different day. Saturday would be Måneskin day.

I've been waiting for so long to do this trip. And what a blast it has been for now. Took only a bag, my external battery, some makeup and my favourite clothes to finally discover this astonishing city. This was my first solo trip. I've always travelled with my family or my ex, but never on my own. For once, I could decide what I wanted to see, what I wanted to eat, when to take a break. And as there are plenty of things to see in Rome, i wanted to enjoy every second of my trip. I could focus my last day there solely to the Måneskin concert happening that Saturday night. But as I didn't want to leave anything to chance, I decided to precisely organize my last day, so I could visit a bit more - a get a last fantastic meal before the concert.

I got myself a gold pit ticket. I guessed that would mean I had a special queue. So on Friday night, as I was back from a late tour in town, I decided to watch more closely the Circo, to check for the entrances, and see how I could sharpen my organization and schedule for the next day.

"J'espère que je vais pas avoir à poireauter toute la journée, avec la chaleur qu'il va faire." ("I hope won't have to hang around here all day tomorrow, the weather's gonna be hot as hell")

It was almost 10 pm. I was getting closer to the Circo, trying to read the boards, but all was written in italian and didn't seem to concern the concert. And a year fangirling over Måneskin clearly wasn't enough to become fluent. I saw no sign mentioning "gold pit". So I decided I would ask around, with Google translate ready in my phone in case I couldn't find anyone speaking English.

I saw a guy sit on a bench, smoking. He was dressed in an ugly dark sweater, with the hood over a cap. He was either a drug dealer or a hobbo. My instinct as a girl living in Paris got the uphand and I decided to ignore the guy and try to find a woman instead, or maybe a group of locals, to get me the information I wanted. Unfortunately, after a good 20 minutes walking around and asking people, no one could tell me how to make sure I find the right queue for the concert. I was about to give up and head back to my airbnb and I saw a silhouette still sitting on a bench, near the Circo. It was the same guy from earlier. "Bon, je tente, s'il est trop chelou, je me barre." ("Well, might as well take the risk, if he's too much a weirdo, I clear off quickly.")

"Scusi, do you speak English ?" i said, getting closer to the guy, but still from a good distance in case it turned wrong.

"Pretty good. You need something ?" He was searching something in his pockets and reached his pack of cigarettes. His voice was deep, but gentle. He did look funny but didn't sound dangerous - i still didn't get too close as I hate the smell of smoke.

"Do you know well il Circo Massimo ? I'm going to a concert here tomorrow and I want to make sure I find the right queue, but they haven't installed any sign yet". I asked, showing the structure of the stage behind me.

"Cute accent, where are you from ?" he answered, completely ignoring my question.

"Well, I'm French. So, do you know il Circo ?" I preferred to quickly repeat my question to let him know I wasn't interested in whatever he was trying to.

"Ah, Bonjour ! I speak a little French !" He said, now reaching for his lighter.

"Yeeaaaah cool, but how about the Circo ? I'd like to be here early enough, but I don't know wh-" I froze as he lighted up his cigarette. It was brief, but with the spark, I saw his face for a second.

"Hm ? You don't know what ?" He asked, with a smirky voice.

"Mais naaaan ?" ("Dont tell me -") I let out that typical French astonished sound without thinking. "You gotta be kidding me !"

He laughed as I was getting a little closer, staring at him. With one hand, he was putting his lighter back in his pocket, with the other, he lifted a bit his cap. It was him. It was Damiano.

I felt my spine shiver with that uncomfortable sensation of being around someone famous. As a journalist, I had my lot of interviews, so I knew there's no point in changing behavior around such people. But I still was flabbergasted to see him.

"Sorry, I didn't recognize you. Well, gotta say you're not dressed in your best outfit !" I chose the strategy of sass, to hide how impressed I actually was.

"That's my favourite sweater you're seeing me in, and I'm smoking hot in it" He said with a smirk, getting into the sassy game.

"Time off before the big day ?" I asked, completely forgotting about my initial request and switching to my interview mindset when I'm super focused about the conversation. "Shouldn't you be having a great night of sleep, to recharge your batteries ?"

"I don't feel like going to bed" He said, having no idea how the conversation would soon turn. Fortunately for him, I wasn't working in the music media industry. "That's quite a stage we're gonna play on."

I didn't know why he was talking to me about all of this. I didn't dare to ask him either. I just enjoyed the moment.

"Well, the Eurovision song contest was bigger, wasn't it ?"

"Hm, don't tell me about it, I still don't know how I managed that."

He suddenly had a strange tone in his voice. It didn't sound like the radiant and confident Damiano you see on Instagram stories or on TV interviews. I remembered where I heard him like that. In the 2019 documentary "This is Måneskin", the making of Il Ballo Della Vita album, in the sequence he's arguing with Vic on a train, as he tells her how anxious he can be get sometimes.

"Well, you did, didn't you ?" I put on a more serious voice. "And you had a ton more of pressure, representing your whole country ? So how a concert here in your home town could be worst than performing in front of all of Europe - not to say the whole world ?"

He was still smoking, listening in silence.

"Or maybe it isn't about how big the performance is but about performing in itself ? Why are you performing ? Why are you putting on a show ? All those fancy clothes and that makeup, who is it for ? For people to love you ? Or for you to love yourself ?"

Mais qu'est-ce que je branle ? Il va se barrer dans deux secondes, là c'est sûr (What the fuck am I doing ? He's leaving any second now.) I got a bit too excited about being able to share a few words with him. What's gotten onto me ? Well, let's go then.

"What is it you're running after ? Or running from maybe ? Some complex to compensate ? With all that smudge and confidence, that wouldn't surprise me."

He sat back on the bench. As he inhaled a deep breath of smoke, I saw a smile on his face. But I also saw his hand holding the cigarette shaking.

"Are you a psychiatrist or something ?" He simply said, as if he was trying to keep his voice as steady as possible.

I hesitated to tell him the truth. I was sure he would walk away the second he would know my actual job. Et puis merde, autant tout dire. (Well, fuck, might as well be honest.)

"Nope, I'm a journalist." I admited, as he looked right back at me with a surprised look. "Pretty much the same. We get appoitments with random people, listen to their life, observe their body language, and tell them our whole opinion about all of it, which might very well shape how they perceive themselves from now on."

"Only difference is that you don't have to keep anything secret. Right the contrary."

There. This was it. He was gonna leave now, for sure.

"Before you go, did I hit any truth ? Don't worry, I'm not in the music media industry, I won't write anything from our conversation." I hoped this information would save me a few more seconds with him.

He didn't answer right away. He didn't leave either. He kept looking at me, still smoking his second cigarette in a row now.

"Whatever it is you write about, I guess you must be good at it" he finally replied. "Cause you did score a few points."

Another short silence broke. As a fan, I was obsessed with his music, lyrics, and attitude. But catching a glimpse of what lied behind the glamour definitly caught my interest. I wanted to know more.

"Why are you here ?" I slightly deepened my voice, getting back to my interview tone, and kept on going with this as if that was usual business for me. "It's half past 10. You play on Rome's largest stage tomorrow. You surely better should be in bed, or be about to, before the big day."

In that moment, I had the upper-hand in the conversation. He was sat on the bench, I was on my feet in front of him, and therefore above him. Not the best approach to get someone's trust for an interview, but with a personnality like Damiano's, you gotta put your own show.

"I actually don't sleep much before big events like these" He finally answered, accepting his condition as an interviewee. "I don't sleep much at all."

"You're tend to insomnia ?"

"Not really, I just got used to 4-5 hours of sleep, that's it."

"Even during tours ? Cause this all sold-out European tour for Teatro d'Ira must have been exhausting".

"You have no idea, bellezza."

"So tell me." From there, I decided to change my strategy and sat on the ground, still in front of him, but giving him the upper-hand, to put on a more trustful atmosphere. "How are you doing ? And I don't mean, like casual 'yay, fine', I mean : how are you doing ?"

I still have no idea of my tactical move of giving him more space to express himself worked, or if he understood right away where I was leading him, but in the end, he still didn't seem bothered by this conversation we were having. In fact, it looked like he was enjoying it.

"I'm... content, I'd say." He paused, and I didn't interrupt him with another question this time. "I know I'm going through the life I wanted. The music, the tours, the praise. It's all I could have ever asked for."

D'accord, très bien, mais ? (Okey, very good, but ?) I stayed silent, but I couldn't help anticipating what he was saying.

"But surprisingly, sometimes it's still... unfulfilling. Like I can never be satisfied".

Repressing some Hamilton's lyrics from my mind, I innocently pretend I didn't fully understand what he meant - another journalistic technique, to get someone to repeat themselves with other words in order to get them deeper into their reflexion.

"What do you mean, "never be satisfied" ? You're on top of Spotify chart list, your albums are now platinum successes, you're winning awards. How is this not satisfying ?"

"It's just... What are all those things for ? Money ? Fame ? Yeah, I like those but..."

"Typical Capricorn" I muttered, to slide in the conversation that I actually knew pretty well my subject - my subject being him. He chuckled.

"Damn really ? Let me guess ? Aries ?"

"Pisces+Taurus, actually. So what, you don't like being famous ?" Getting back quickly into more questions - another technique to keep control over the rhythm of an interview.

"It's not that I dislike it. It's just... not always as fun as I thought it would be."

"What part of the job ? The writing and composing ?"

"No, that's the best part." He reached for a third cigarette. It was almost 11 pm now. "Vic, Thomas and Ethan. Måneskin. They're the best thing that ever happened to me".

"Then what, you feel like a fraud ?"

"Hell, no ! I'm exactly where I should be." He claimed, with a light pride tone.

"So, if you're proud of what you create, and if you love the people you create that with, then what is the matter ? If life is about getting the Bare Necessities, it seems like you got it all." Hitting with a universal - and musical - reference. Shoud do the trick.

"Hahaha ! Lo stretto indispensabile, si ! But life isn't that easy." He said laughing, as I felt he started to let go of the tension. "In real life, you get judged all the time, and people try to dismantle you, and spread rumors."

"I didn't think you'd be one to listen to people's comments about you".

"I'm not. I stopped giving credits to those. But it's still here, you know ?"

"From what I see, you're keeping it real, with lots of wisdom. I can't quite grasp what seem to bother you."

He paused, looking at his feet for a few seconds.

"I'm afraid it won't last." He finally confessed. "I'm afraid it all ends as quickly as it all started. I'm afraid people get bored. I'm afraid I become a caricature of myself. I'm afraid I can't write new songs. I'm afraid to be a shooting star, you see ? Very bright, but gone in a flash."

"Like, to be an Icare ? Or may I say "Ykaaar" like on your Instagram ?"

He chuckled again.

"Huh, I'm that obvious ?"

"Yeah, even a bit over-the-top, if I may dare say so."

"Well, I've always related so much with this mythological figure. I mean what's wrong with aiming for the Sun ?" He said, pointing a hand to the dark sky above us. From his attitude, I could tell he was way more relaxed than in the beginning. He even took his cap and hood off, so I could now see his face more clearly. His eyes were glittering. "Burning your wings... What's that morale supposed to teach us ? Be modest ? Be moderate ? Che noia !" (How boring !)

"Well don't be !" I felt almost like scolding him. "There's nothing wrong with seeking big dreams. As there's nothing wrong with this feeling of being outrun by your life. Savour the moment. Every second of it. It's because you can't know how long it may last that it tastes so good, so thrilling ! And you actually already are ten steps ahead ! Writing songs like ´Torna a casa' or ´Coraline' at, what, 19-20 years old ? You're the real deal, dude. And even if later on, you get blank page anxiety or write just good-enough songs, it's okey. You got plenty of time to make mistakes. Take the leap of faith. Failing and being a failure aren't the same. You learn, you grow from it. It's okey to doubt yourself, but please, don't ever doubt all the love and support you get."

I paused, hoping I didn't do too far and missed my point. But in a way, I could also feel I got it right. He was looking at the Circo, his eyes even more sparkling than before.

"I..." He got up, standing on the bench, looking as tall as a statue from my perspective. He came down and took a few steps. I got on my feet, starting to feel concerned about what I just said.

"I didn't know I needed to hear that." He finally confided. "I always wanna reach perfection. I'm aware I can be authoritative, sometimes even harsh, on the band. I can't accept to be a failure. But love and support, that, I can't get enough of."

I didn't respond. There was nothing to add. This instant felt like an hour. The wind was slightly blowing through the length of the Circo in front of us. His hair reflected the gentle light of the moon, only showing her first quarter. He broke the tranquility of the moment, turning and taking a few steps in my direction.

"Grazie mille" he said, his arms opened, calling for a hug.

"But, you're very welcome" I said approaching him, softly putting my arms on his back as he put his over my shoulders. The second before his face disappeared from my vision, i noticed a tear on his cheek.

"You've completed reset my mind. I feel like I can start all over again. I was anguished, trapped by my anxiety. But it's all gone now. You've changed me. Thank you, thank you so much" He affirmed full of hope, his voice shivering.

"Wow, well. I had no idea I could change someone's life." I answered, trying to hide how moved I myself was from the conversation.

------

It was almost midnight now. We kept talking for a while, comparing life in Rome and Paris, exchanging what was our best concert experiences. But he still needed to get back home to rest before the concert, and I didn't want to arrive too late at my airbnb - even if I could have spent the whole night talking with him. Yet, to enjoy our last few minutes together, he offered to walk me back to where I was staying. It was just a 15 minutes walk, along the Tevere river bank.

"So tell me." he asked with a smirk. "How does the Bare Necessities go in French ?" He started to muffle the melody.

"Oh no, you don't expect me to actually sing it ?"

"Hehe, you got me into a therapy session, so I can get a little song from you, no ?"

"Damn, you. This is blackmail !" But drunk on the moment, I took a deep breath.

"Il en faut peeeeeeu pour être heureux, ("Look for the baaaaare necessities,") vraiment très peu pour être heureux, ("the simple bare necessities") il faut se satisfaire du nécessaire !" ("Forget about your worries and your strife")"

I started dancing along, if I had to be ridiculous, might as well utterly be. But he actually followed my lead, clicking his fingers.

"In fondo, baaaasta il minimo, ("I mean the baaaaare necessities") sapessi quanto è facile ("Old Mother Nature's recipes") Trovar quel po' che occorre per campar ! ("That brings the bare necessities of life !")

We kept on singing Disney songs for a few minutes as we walked at a slow pace - I was shocked he never saw Tarzan and immediately made him promise to watch it as i told him Phil Collins recorded all the songs in five languages, including Italian. When we finally reached my destination, we exchanged a last timid hug as farewell.

"Well, I'll see you on stage tomorrow." I told him as I crossed the street.

"And I'll look for you in the crowd !" He shouted with the brightest smile on his perfect face.

** the end **

[jobean12-blog]

Top Shelf: Chapter 10- Recipe for Love

Pairing: Bucky x reader (Bookshop/Bartender AU)

Word Count: 2,064

Summary: You and Bucky decide to host dinner for your friends and afterwards you get the best idea ever...

Author’s Note: Thank you all so very much for sticking with me and continuing to read! This has really been such an escape for me and I can never thank you enough for reading and being so kind and supportive. Thank you all for reading and much love always ❤❤❤

Warnings: sweet fluff, soft smut, fluffersmut, fun with friends :) 

Previous Chapters 

Chapter 1: Enchantment

Chapter 2: Cookie Crumble

Chapter 3: Sweet Anticipation

Chapter 4: Read Between the Limes

Chapter 5: Secrets on the Shelf

Chapter 6: Love Between the Covers 

Chapter 7: Love Lines & Soul Finds

Chapter 8: Drunk in Love

Chapter 9: Pour in onto the Page

The rest of the night goes on in a blur of soft touches, heated kisses and whispered, “I love yous.” Now that the words are out it’s as if neither of you have anything else to say. The uber ride back to Manhattan is as sugary sweet as the cotton candy you’re licking off your fingers. “Oh my god, Bucky! I forgot how good this stuff is!” you exclaim as you pull off another chunk of the spun sugar. “I know!” Bucky replies, kissing some melting pink sugar off your lips.

You giggle, trying to refrain from poking him with your sticky fingers. “Sweetheart, if you get that sticky crap stuck in my hair, we’re gonna have a problem.” Your fingers reach toward him as you hold back laughter. Bucky quickly grabs your wrist and brings your hand to his mouth, slowly sucking the sugar off the tip of each finger. “I wish we were home already,” you breathe out.

When you finally fall through the door of your apartment, you’re surprised you’re still dressed, Bucky’s hands groping you from the moment you got out of the uber. He walks you backward until you bump the small island in your kitchen, his arms lifting you up and sitting you on the countertop. Your hands card through his hair as he kneels between your legs, pushing up the skirt of your dress.

His eyes watch you as he trails kisses up your thigh, his soft hair slipping through your fingers as you try to find a hold on something. With the languid movements of his tongue he takes you apart, your body completely sated as he stands to unzip his jeans. You waste no time, helping him get them to the floor.

He enters you slowly and you feel every inch, his forehead pressed to yours while you relish in the feeling of each other. The lights from the city cast a soft glow on your skin as Bucky’s hands and mouth explore every inch with a newfound reverence.  It isn’t long before you come undone, his name a quiet plea falling from your lips.  

The next morning you find the other side of the bed empty, but the smell of freshly brewed coffee permeates the air. With a satisfied hum you throw off the covers, covering your nakedness with Bucky’s shirt. “Do you always walk around shirtless?” you ask as you enter the kitchen, Bucky’s back to you as he stands over the coffee pot.

“Are you complaining,” he croons, throwing you a look over his shoulder. “Not at all,” you say, walking over and wrapping your arms around his waist. “That smells so good! I’m so glad someone is finally using the coffee pot. I usually just get it from the café down the street.” He turns and hands you a steaming cup, asking, “you mean the little spot on West 22nd and 9th Ave?” You nod as you take your first sip, moaning at the taste.

“It’s going out of business!” You nearly spit out the delicious coffee, “WHAT?” Bucky frowns, holding you against his chest, “yeah, the new Starbucks that opened nearby is killing them.” Now it’s your turn to frown, the realization you may have to start brewing your own coffee or paying way too much for one making you angry. You take another sip, eyeing Bucky over the mug, “that’s awful. I really liked that place!”

Kissing the top of your head he says assuredly, “you have me and since you seem to approve of my coffee making skills, I think you’ll manage.” With a contented smile you reach behind him for your cookie tin, picking it up and noticing it feels way too light. “Bucky. Did you eat the last of the peanut butter chocolate chip cookies?”

Hanging his head, he doesn’t answer but it’s all the confirmation you need. “I can’t believe you didn’t even leave me one!” He tries to look sheepish but fails terribly as he checks for crumbs along his mouth. “Well, they were amazing! And I was hungry this morning!” he says in defense. “You’re lucky I love you, you know that” you say. He takes your unfinished coffee from your hands and places in on the counter. “Actually, I’m the lucky one and I love you too,” he says, before stopping any further conversation with his lips on yours.

You spend Sunday afternoon at the bookshop with Bucky, organizing some shelves and just enjoying each other’s company. As per her usual Sunday visit, Grandma Betty strolls in shortly after lunch, her smile bright at the sight of you both. “Look at you two. You’re practically glowing today! I knew a night out would be good for my boy. Was it as fun as you remembered?”

Bucky sends a heart stopping smile your way before launching into a full recap of your night and how perfect it was. Grandma leaves with a smile that matches yours and a promise of some of your now famous peanut butter chocolate chip cookies.

After the visit you can tell that Bucky’s mood has dampened slightly, his teeth working over his bottom lip and his forehead creased in thought. “Hey baby, you think Steve, Peggy, Nat and Sam would want to come over for dinner next weekend? Maybe we can do it early before you guys have to be at the bar?” His spirits seem to lift at the idea, and he sends out a text to see if everyone is available.

Once your plans are made and you all settle on a time you ask him, “what do I make for dessert?” He laughs, raising his brow before he speaks. You cut him off, “I’m not making you any more of those cookies. In fact, I’m going to make a whole batch, give them all to your grandma and you can’t have any!” He pretends to pout which makes you laugh, his antics hard to resist. “I’ll bake something new! A surprise!” you exclaim, winking his way.

You spend almost every weeknight at Bucky’s apartment, except for Wednesday night because Nat insists she needs some girl time. “So. Does it feel different now that you guys said I love you?” she asks, sitting on the couch with her legs stretched out over yours while sipping her wine. “It just feels right. I can’t really explain it. It all seems so cliché when I really think about it, but I’ve also not felt surer about anything before.”

Nat tilts her head in understanding, her hand reaching over to squeeze yours. “I get it. I’m so happy for you.” With another sip of your wine you reply, “thanks, I love you. Now stop stalling and tell me about your weekend with Sam!” She giggles and you squeal when you see a light blush creep over her cheeks. “OH MY GOD! WELL??” She kicks you with her foot, scowling before she says, “it’s the wine! I swear!” You laugh, knowing full well she’s full of shit. “Yea right. You can’t fool me. SPILL IT!”

Saturday morning rolls around and you and Bucky leave his apartment together, you’re heading out for baking supplies and Bucky heading to the bookshop to open and prepare for his early departure. “If you need me to pick anything up on my way back just let me know, doll. I can easily make a stop.” You pepper his cheek with kisses, saying thank you in between before planting a good one on his lips. “I love you,” he murmurs, watching you walk down the street until you’re out of his sight.

You decide on making a coconut cream pie for dessert, checking beforehand that everyone is a fan of the fruit. It’s the first time you’re making it and you’re both excited and nervous. Once you have everything you need you head back to Bucky’s and start preparing, making sure to send him plenty of silly texts as you bake. Thankfully the two of you had made a sauce and breaded chicken cutlets the night before so all that had to be done other than the pie was frying up the cutlets and cooking the pasta.

Bucky arrives home right on time. “Wow. It smells amazing in here baby.” He gives you a tight hug, picking you up off your feet and kissing you soundly before running off to take a quick shower. Once he’s clean and ready you finish up the cooking and put the pie in the oven. Bucky sets the table and you prepare some small appetizers.

Steve and Peggy arrive first, and Peggy joins you in the kitchen for some gossiping and wine. You look over her shoulder to see Bucky and Steve on the couch plowing through the snacks. “Hey boys! Can you please try to save some for Nat and Sam??” They both look up guiltily, trying to hide their mouthfuls of food. “Sorry,” they mumble simultaneously.

Luckily, Sam and Nat show up only moments later and Sam can snag a few bites. Dinner goes off without a hitch and everyone sits with their glass of wine while they wait for dessert. “Nat has been going on and on about y/n’s baking all week! I can’t wait to eat this pie!” Sam shouts. “I know, Bucky said her cookies are better than my mom’s!” Steve chimes in, raising his eyebrows.

Everyone looks at Steve in shock, their mouths hanging open. “What the heck guys?” you say as you walk to the table holding the pie. “What happened?” Steve quickly speaks up, “nothing y/n! We were just talking about how good your baking is. That looks amazing!” You throw them a knowing smirk and put the pie on the table, serving a slice to everyone.

Sam shovels in a giant bite, moaning around the fork. “Holy cow, this is incredible y/n!” Steve follows suit, closing his eyes and mumbling something about heaven while he chews. Bucky looks up and gives you a wide smile, his eyes twinkling as he mouths “I love you.”

Before you can answer him Sam snorts, pulling your attention away as you watch him point and laugh. “Jeez, you two are sweeter than this pie.” You scowl at him and try to hold back your laughter but fail miserably when Nat chimes in and says, “that’s the best you could do. Really?” Everyone starts laughing and Bucky pulls you into his lap, feeding you a piece of the pie. “Wow. It really did come good,” you say, only loud enough for him to hear.

While everyone continues to eat Bucky makes some coffee, the smell drifting through the small apartment and perking everyone up. The rest of the evening goes by fast and before you know it, Bucky and Sam must leave for the bar. Bucky tries to help you clean up, but you shoo him out, looking forward to a little alone time with Peggy and Nat. “It’s fine Buck, don’t worry! We can definitely handle this!”

It doesn’t take the three of you long to clean up, afterwards getting comfy on the couch with a glass of wine. You hang out for another couple of hours before the yawning starts, the wine and good food catching up to all of you. “Thank you so much for coming, this was so fun!” They enthusiastically agree, telling you for the hundredth time how delicious the pie was.

An hour later you’re in the bath, relaxing under the bubbles and teasing Bucky by sending him sexy pictures. ‘Doll, this is so unfair…I know what’s under those bubbles and I want some.’ You giggle, placing your phone safely on the towel next to the tub. Grabbing the plate of pie you brought into the bath you take a bite, savoring every flavor as it swirls over your tongue. You mentally give yourself props, loving how much everyone praised your baking abilities.

Finishing the last bite, your eyes suddenly go wide, and you blurt out, “that’s it!!!” You drop the empty dish to the floor and grab your phone, trying to text Bucky as quickly as possible. “Shit, shit, shit!” you curse at your slippery fingers, wiping them off on the towel. ‘BUCKY! I KNOW HOW TO SAVE THE BOOKSHOP!’ The text goes through and you smile to yourself, excitement coursing through you while you wait for his reply.

@aesthetical-bucky @auro-ora @azurika-writes @bucky-on-my-mind @buckys-broody-muffin @bugsbucky @book-dragon-13 @devynsdiary @eurynome827 @hailmary-yramliah @godofplumsandthunder @hawksmagnolia @hiddles-rose @imgaril-lindru @ikaris-whore @itsunclebucky @jhangelface0523 @jewelofwinter @jewels2876 @loricameback @littledarlinhavefaithinme @littleredstarfish @mushyjellybeans @marvelgirl7​ @marvelandotherfandomimagines @metal-armed-cuddly-dork @nano--raptor @randomfandompenguin @sallycanwait68 @softpeachbarnes @scarletsoldierrr @the-wayward-robot @when-the-hell-is-bucky @throwmyheartawayagain @flyawaybay @amandatar-06 @nd1998sc @captainchrisstan @vherriepie @fire-flv @jamesbarnesappreciationclub @irishflutiegirl @rinthehufflepuff @moonybarnes @nordlysinthewoods​ @inflxmes 

[there-must-be-a-lock]

Hot Chocolate (and Goddamn Marshmallows)

Dean x Reader

Word Count: ~2530

Warnings: It’s SO FLUFFY. Straight up marshmallow fluff. Just a dash of angst for seasoning. Um. No warnings that I can think of. 

A/N: Thanks to @fangirlxwritesx67​ for checkin it over. For @katymacsupernatural​ and her 6K Golden challenge! Congrats Katy! 

“I fuckin’ can’t, man, I barely made it here to begin with, Baby was slippin’ all over the place,” Dean grumbles. He holds the phone awkwardly between his shoulder and his ear so that he can pour another glass of whiskey. He only has half a bottle; if he can’t get out tomorrow, he’s fucked.

Even aside from the alcohol situation, tomorrow’s Christmas Eve. He’s supposed to be at Jody’s, drinking eggnog and doing all the Hallmark bullshit with his family, but if the snow doesn’t stop early… well, fuck that, he’ll find a way. He’s gotta make it back for Christmas. 

“The cabin’s still stocked from the last time we were there, right?” Sam asks. 

“Yeah, I won’t starve to death, at least,” Dean says, trying to keep his voice light. It’s the truth, although the cabinets basically contain black beans, a couple packs of ramen, and some skunked beer. Dean won’t starve, but this is just not how he wanted to spend his night. This Christmas was supposed to be different. 

“Still not gonna tell me what was so important up there?” Sam says. 

“Nope.” 

It’s his own fault, really. Sam told him about the Christmas plan a month ago. It had taken Dean a while to figure out where Mom’s stuff had been stored without Sammy realizing what he was up to, and then their last hunt took longer than they’d expected… it was just one thing after another, and he’d been in such a rush to get up here he hadn’t checked the weather forecast. Typical. 

“Fuck,” Sam sighs. “It’s supposed to let up tomorrow, we’ll mount a rescue mission, okay? Donna’s got four wheel drive, I think.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Dean says gruffly, and he clears his throat, trying to sound cheerful. How many Christmases has he spent, now, telling Sam not to worry? It’s a Winchester family tradition. “I’ll figure something out. Give everybody hugs for me. Tell Jody she better save me some of that pork roast.” 

“Love you,” Sam says quietly. 

Dean kinda likes the big goddamn marshmallow who’s replaced his brother lately. Amazing what Eileen and a general lack of apocalypses have done for the kid’s temperament. 

“Love ya, Sammy. See you tomorrow, one way or another. Hey, don’t do it without me, okay?” 

Sam laughs at him. “Obviously. Bye, Dean.” 

Dean hangs up and looks down at the little box on the table. As much as this situation fuckin’ blows, Sam’s reaction is gonna be priceless. 

He opens the box again, peeking for the zillionth time before he slips it into his pocket. It’s still surreal to think about that ring on someone else’s hand. Mom stopped wearing it at some point after she came back, and Sam probably assumes it’s long gone. 

He’d said something about how Eileen’s practical, they talked about it, she doesn’t want him to go out and blow a bunch of money on jewelry, they can pick out the actual bands together when it’s time… but Dean’s pretty fuckin’ excited to see the expression on his face. And hers, of course. Practical as she may be, Eileen’s a goddamn marshmallow too. 

Dean’s happy for Sam, he really is. Sometimes he just feels a little lonely, watching the two of them; must be nice, having someone look at you like that. They just kinda fit. They finish each other’s fuckin’ sentences, sometimes, or sign the same things at the same time, moving in perfect unison, and Sam just smiles so much more than he used to. Dean looks at the way they are together and thinks it looks comfortable, like a warm fuzzy fuckin’ blanket, and he’s only just starting to realize that sometimes… sometimes he gets really cold, is all. Sometimes he could use a little more warm fuzzy in his life. 

Like, hey, now, for example. He shivers and drains the last of his glass, pours himself a fresh one, and then he shakes off the melancholy and goes to get a fire started. 

There’s no cable, or anything, but they hooked up an old DVD player to an even older TV a couple years back. Dean finds a stack of dusty DVD cases and shuffles through them, rolling his eyes at the selection. Love Actually? How the fuck did that end up here? 

Or… huh. Now he thinks about it, there’s a chance he might have bought it at the dollar store, one time, while feeling mildly tipsy and severely sentimental. He also has a vague recollection of he and Sam both getting a little bit teared up while watching it. Just a little. 

Dean looks down at his drink and sighs. It’s gonna be a maudlin drunk kinda night. Might as well just put on a chick flick, while he’s at it. He tops up his glass, puts in the disc, throws another log on the fire, and settles onto the massive, squashy couch. 

Fuck his fuckin’ luck, seriously. There’s just this cold, dull ache in his chest that won’t seem to go away, and even though he keeps trying to tell himself that it might end up okay, the snow might stop in time, he can’t seem to shake it. Baby’s not at her best in the snow, what are the odds? He can’t ask Sam to drive however many fuckin’ hours to come pick him up, he won’t ask, and he just wishes a single damn thing would go right, for a change. 

He knuckles at his eyes and pours another drink, but no matter how much whiskey he puts away, he can’t seem to warm up. 

***

About an hour in, as he’s eyeing the whiskey bottle and deciding whether he should just go ahead and polish the thing off, there’s a knock on the door.  

“The fuck,” Dean mutters. He’s stumbling awkwardly to his feet, reaching for the gun he’d put on the coffee table, when the door slams open, letting in a gust of freezing-cold air and a flurry of snowflakes. There’s a figure in the doorway: massive coat, bundled up, and they’re carrying two big paper bags, and Dean blinks stupidly for a second, gun still cocked. 

Is that -

“Holy shit,” he blurts out. He sets the gun down and rushes to help her, but she’s already kicking the door closed behind her, setting the groceries down, and by the time he gets over there she’s unwinding the scarf from around her face so that he can see her eyes, sparkling and happy, her flushed cheeks, her bright smile. 

“Good to see you, Dean,” she says, still breathless from the cold. He wraps her in a bear hug, stunned and speechless. 

“Holy shit,” he says again, eventually, as she pulls away to get her gigantic puffy coat off. There are snowflakes caught in her hair and she’s beaming at him, and she laughs at his look of disbelief; she’s got the cutest fuckin’ laugh, Christ. 

“Little birdy told me you might need some company,” she says. She’s giving him this impish smile and he wants to say something clever, but all he can do is wipe a hand down his face and shake his head. 

“Shit, how’d you even get up here? Roads were bad when I got in.” 

“Maybe for your little Baby,” she grins, shrugging off the big coat and stomping snow off her boots. “But it wasn’t a big deal for the truck. The plows will be out tonight, we can hit the road as soon as the sun’s up. I’d say let’s go now but I hate driving in the dark when it’s snowing. it’s like making the jump to hyperspace, y’know?” 

Dean blinks slowly at her. “Wait, seriously?” 

“You know, when the snow comes at the windshield and it looks- ”

“No, I mean, we’ll be able to get out? You’re really… you don’t have to drive me all that way, shit.” 

“I mean, unless you’re set on sticking around? Got big plans?” She glances pointedly over his shoulder to where Love Actually is still playing, and Dean makes a face, but he’s so relieved he’s getting a little bit choked up. 

“Options were limited.” 

“Hey, you’re in luck. I came prepared.” She grabs her big puffy coat and rummages in pockets until she pulls out a DVD case. Dean’s mouth drops open. 

“Die Hard? You’ve gotta be kidding me. You’re my favorite.” 

She rolls her eyes and shrugs it off, but she’s bouncing on the balls of her feet a little, like she’s pleased with herself. “Here, help me with these?”

She picks up the grocery bag and brings it to the kitchen, and Dean trails after her with the second, which (judging by the clinking when he sets it on the counter) is mostly booze. She pulls out a pie, first, one of the supermarket ones in its plastic box. His stomach does a happy little flip-flop, and he has to hug her again. He wraps his arms around her from behind and squeezes hard. Her hair smells the same as he remembers. 

“Did you turn into a marshmallow when I wasn’t around?” she teases, and Dean blushes. 

“Guess it runs in the family,” he says quietly, laughing, and he steps away. 

“Huh? 

“Never mind. I might’ve had a couple drinks. Gettin’ sappy.” He leans against the counter next to her as she starts to unpack more food. “Last I saw you, you were in New York. Are you back in this neck of the woods? You shoulda called!” 

“Just came back recently. I guess Jody heard through the grapevine, she’s the one who called me. My dad died,” she says matter-of-factly. “Been staying at his place trying to get everything sorted out.” 

“Shit, I’m sorry.” 

She shoots him a little sideways half-smile and pulls out a carton of eggnog, a bottle of Jack, and a bottle of peppermint schnapps. “Thanks. I don’t mind being back, mostly, but I’m glad she called. The holidays have kinda been a bummer this year.” 

“I know how that goes,” Dean says wryly. 

“Yeah. Nice to have something to do. When Jody found out I was gonna be alone she about had a cow, so I guess I’m having Christmas with you guys now. Anyway, I can never say no to rescuing a damsel in distress.” 

She winks, and Dean’s so goddamn charmed right now it takes a second to realize she just called him a damsel. 

“Hey,” he protests. He tries to look affronted, but she’s giggling, so it’s probably not working. 

“Should we start with the ‘nog? Or peppermint hot chocolate?” she muses. 

“Dealer’s choice.” 

“Hot chocolate it is. Boil some water?” 

Dean grabs the old kettle while she peers at mugs, trying to find a couple that aren’t too dusty. He sneaks a glance at her out of the corner of his eye; she’s pretty, Christ, and she’s all pink-cheeked from the cold, biting her lip absentmindedly, and… yeah. Dean maybe can’t stop staring. 

She catches him looking, but she just smiles back, shy and sweet, and starts pouring hot cocoa mix into two passably clean mugs. 

“You never told me what you’re doing up here,” she remarks. “Secret Christmas mission, Jody said?” 

Dean fumbles for the ring box and shows her. “Had to get something out of storage.” 

Her eyes go wide and shocked, and her mouth opens and closes silently for a second. 

“Oh,” she says, voice strained, looking down at her hands. “I didn’t realize you were…” 

“No, not for me!” he says hastily. “God, no. Not for me. For Sam.” 

“Oh!” she says, high-pitched. She laughs and fidgets nervously with the sleeve of her sweater. “Oh, okay.”  

Dean doesn’t think he’s imagining the look of relief on her face, and something in his chest goes all fluttery. 

“I am very single,” he says, and he can’t quite manage to keep his tone casual. “Just… to make it clear.” 

She nods, trying to hold back a smile, like she’s laughing at him but also maybe (hopefully) like she’s charmed at the same time. 

“Good,” she says softly. 

***

Dean doesn’t remember falling asleep. When he wakes up, sometime in the middle of the night, it takes him a moment to remember where he is. 

He feels sorta dazed, like maybe he’s still tipsy. That’s normal enough. What’s not normal is the person next to him; they’re curled around each other, fully clothed, and she’s tucked under his arm with her hand resting on his chest. They must’ve dozed off during the movie. Dean smiles to himself. 

The fire’s mostly embers at this point, and he should get up, put a log on, before it dies completely. Maybe he should just go to his room, too; find her a blanket and then give her some space. That’d be the gentlemanly thing to do. 

He takes a second to breathe, first. There’s something so perfect about the moment. He wants to memorize the way she feels, curled against his side, the way they fit together, the way her hair smells, the way her breath tickles his neck when she exhales. He feels boneless and heavy-limbed, like he could melt into the couch cushions, but there’s this tightness in his chest, the knowledge that he should enjoy this while he can, because it won’t last. It never does. 

He’s careful when he gets up, trying to slip away without disturbing her, and he’s quiet as he stokes the fire. When it’s blazing again, he grabs a big quilt from the back of a chair and covers her up, tucking her in gently. He turns to head to bed. 

“Hey, wait,” she murmurs sleepily. 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.” 

“Where’re you going?” she asks. When he looks back, the fire is illuminating the adorable grumpy pout on her face, and she’s all sleepy-eyed and pillow-creased and fucking gorgeous. 

Dean shrugs. 

“Come back?” she asks. 

He slides under the quilt, and she snuggles close. When she tilts her face up to look him in the eye, her skin glows orange-gold in the firelight. She leans in slow, pausing just before their lips meet, and when they kiss Dean feels it through his entire body, liquid heat curling out to his toes. Her mouth is soft, and she makes this sweet, happy sound when he sucks on her lower lip; it makes his head spin, and he cups her cheek in one hand, feels her velvety skin under his fingers. 

Her lashes flutter when she pulls back, her eyes still half-closed. 

“Go to sleep, Dean,” she whispers. “We’ve got a long drive in the morning.” 

She fits herself against his side, nuzzling into his neck, sighing contentedly, and he strokes her hair until her breathing evens out again. 

He likes the way she fits in his arms, and he likes the sweet smell of her hair all mixed in with the woodsmoke. He likes the weight of her on his chest and the heat of her body against his, the way she’s wrapped around him, the way she’s half draped over him like a living blanket. 

Warm and fuzzy, he thinks, and he’s smiling as he falls asleep.

.

.

.

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[minyoongijjangjjangmanboongboong]

You’ve Got Mail: Jungkook One Shot

Request: Hi! I really love your writings! If your requests are still open, can you pls write a Jungkook story? Ex-lovers in high school where he broke up with her because he got bored or something like that. Then they met again in university and wants her back again. (Angst but happy ending pls). Thank you!

Description: After a messy breakup with high school heartthrob Jeon Jungkook, you swore off dating once you got into college. Even though it left you lonely, it was easier than being hurt. But one fateful blind date changes everything for you, and you realize that maybe isolation isn’t the answer either.

Word Count: 12.9k

Pairing: Jungkook x (gender neutral) Reader

Tags: Barista!Reader, Graphic Design Student!Jungkook, Non-Idol!Au, Ex-Lovers to Enemies to Lovers (? I guess? Haha)

Genre: Whole lotta angst, fluffy ending

Warnings: None!

A/N: It’s been two weeks since I’ve posted wtf!! But I’m back and less than a week away from the Rose Bowl concert, holy cow. This ask has been in my inbox for MONTHS, so I need to say thank you to the anon who sent it for waiting so long! I really enjoyed this request, so I hope you guys like it too!

Also, if you want to follow me on Twitter please do so! My handle is @/plzpunchmebts. I would post a link, but rumor has it Tumblr killed links and I’m not taking any chances. I’ll be posting concert videos and pics there, so please give it a follow if you’d like to see that!

- Mercury

You were never too keen on blind dates. Everything about them felt…artificial. It wasn’t that you were a romantic, not especially, but you had to admit that being forced on a date by meddlesome friends took some of the magic out of dating. When Sua had mentioned a cute new boy in her class who was too busy studying to date, you had to admit the red flags began waving in your mind. Of course, you could relate. College was taxing and it was difficult to find time to even eat three meals, let alone date. Perhaps if things had cropped up organically, you’d have been more excited. But the forced union was a little cumbersome.

The nerves and the insecurity and the fear, none of it was especially fun. But Sua had been adamant that the two of you would hit it off, and with her eyes round and expectant, her brows raised, and her lips pouted, you really didn’t have any room to deny her. You figured one night of discomfort was better than months of guilt, and even though you figured things wouldn’t work out with this mystery man, you’d humor your friend. After all, making friends in college wasn’t easy.

Making friends in general wasn’t easy.

You sighed as you waited with your chilly hands clasped around your phone, standing at the entrance to the subway station where Sua had instructed. The mouth of the entrance was muggy with exiting passengers as the wave of people clambered up the steep stairs and onto the street, lined on all sides by buildings that reached the sky. Every now and again, someone would graze their shoulder against yours without apology, or perhaps step on the toe of your sneaker. You took a few inching steps backward, glancing over your shoulder to be sure you wouldn’t hit anyone. Not that they’d care. You backed up until you were out of the streamline and instead took up a quieter spot beside a fish cake vendor.

You checked your phone once again, furrowing your brow. Sue said eleven, didn’t she? You pulled up your messages and scrolled through carefully, head tilted to the side as you read her most recent text.

Sua: He said he’s running a little late, but he told me to tell you to wait.

You: I am waiting…

Sua: He says he’s sorry and that the subway is close to the terminal now.

You: That’s good.

Sua: He says sorry again.

Sua: You know, this is kinda dumb. Let me just give you his number so you can text him.

Sua: 51-XXX-XX24

You pursed your lips and crossed your arms over your chest. Sua was right, anyway. Making her your proxy wouldn’t really do you much good, considering she wasn’t here to help you in person. But wouldn’t it be a bit forward to just…text this guy? You didn’t know him yet. And besides, what could you say that Sua hadn’t? Hey, I’m doing this out of obligation, sorry to disappoint! or you can just go back home now and we can tell Sua things didn’t work out. You shook your head and rubbed your fingertip along the screen of your phone, working your lower lip between your teeth. You were just looking for an out. And really, you didn’t want to bail after Sua had gone through the trouble of setting things up. Still, just texting a stranger was a little…

But then again, he’d agreed to the blind date too, hadn’t he? It wasn’t like you were someone he was forced to talk to. He’d come on his own accord. Rubbing your bare forearm in the spring breeze with one hand, you used the other to tap the phone number and save it and, with only your index finger, drafted a slow message.

You: Hey, I’m Sua’s friend. I think we’re supposed to have a blind date today? Haha. That sounded kind of awkward…

Within seconds, your phone dinged with an incoming text and you jumped, nervous, before glancing at your phone once more.

Blind Date: Oh! Haha, hello. It wasn’t awkward at all. Ahh, I’m really sorry I’m late. I wasn’t looking where I was going and I bumped into a cyclist and he gave me an earful so I missed the first subway.

Blind Date: But I’m one stop away! You’re outside exit 2 right?

You: Yeah! I’m next to a fish cake stall. I’m wearing a red blouse, so you can’t miss me :-)

Damn, you thought, was that smiley face too much? You picked at the skin around your nail and glanced up to see the near-constant flow of people was still in full force, the subway exit spitting pedestrians onto the cement sidewalk in droves. You squinted a little, trying to keep a good visual on the staircase leading out. With a sigh, you leaned over your bag to slip your phone inside when it buzzed again. Despite yourself, your heart raced and you eagerly unlocked it to see if he’d responded.

Blind Date: Cute! Let’s get some fish cakes then before we go to the movie.

Blind Date: Ah, subway just pulled in! I’m only a few sweaty staircases away now~

Blind Date: :P

Without meaning to, you smiled a little. Your nerves settled as you leaned on your right foot, grinning softly at your screen. He seemed like a good guy, at least. You were relieved. After the jerks you dated in high school, you’d sworn off dating for a while. Maybe trying to cleanse your palate. It was…oddly refreshing to be talking to someone who didn’t make you feel like you weren’t all that important. Like you were disposable.

Still smiling, you responded with a simple text.

You: I’m excited to meet you :-D

“Y/N?” asked a familiar voice from beside you.

A voice that sent chills up your spine, and not the good kind.

You stiffened and turned, eyes wide, toward the one person you’d been hoping fervently to avoid for life. Standing with his big, brown eyes wide and his hair slightly windswept, Jeon Jungkook stared down at you like you were a ghost. Your lips parted and, heart hammering, you opened and closed your jaw a few times. What were you supposed to say to the boy who broke your heart when you were sixteen?

Years later and he was still the heartthrob he’d been back then, only now he looked…like a man. His cheekbones were prominent, strong jaw, heavy brow and a serious, toned build like he’d lived at the gym in the years between your meetings.

You swallowed hard and slipped your phone in your bag, crossing your arms and thus closing yourself to him. You glanced up at him with a furrowed brow. “Jungkook,” you said with a sigh. “I’m actually waiting here for someone and I don’t want him to get the wrong idea, so if you could-,”

“You’re on a blind date?” asked Jungkook, lips agape.

You shrugged, glancing down the sidewalk toward the open maw of the subway exit, squinting in the hopes of catching your date’s attention. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Wait, but-,”

You sighed and shut him up with a single look his way, sharp, venomous. “I’m gonna to wait someplace else if you’re gonna keep standing beside me.”

“No, it’s not-,”

You huffed and shuffled into the crowd once more, walking purposefully away from him, but Jungkook was hot on your tail and wouldn’t let you out of his sight. Every few paces, you’d glance over your shoulder and see him following you feverishly, angling himself through the narrow spaces between bodies. But you kept going, pushing through, until you were blocks away from the subway station and Jungkook was nowhere to be seen.

You exhaled long and slow, patting your chest to calm down, and veered off toward the shops on your right, taking cover beneath an awning. Something in your bag vibrated and you jumped. Shit. Your date. The spring day sun was warm on your hands as you fumbled with your bag, grabbing your phone once again.

Blind Date: Where did you go??

You gripped your nose bridge and exhaled through your nose. Of course he’d be confused. You were lucky he was nice enough to reach out at all after seeing you weren’t where you said you’d be. You typed your reply quickly, desperate not to hurt his feelings.

You: God, I’m SO sorry. I ran into someone…from a long time ago lol. I couldn’t shake him off, so I ended up down the street a few blocks. By a Burger King.

You: I’m making a really bad impression, huh? I’m sorry. Just…he’s the LAST person I wanted to see today, you know?

You: Or…well, ever haha.

You awaited a response with bated breath, brows knit, and chewed on the inside of your cheek. This blind date was a wild card, really. Since you didn’t know him yet, you didn’t know how he’d respond. And it wouldn’t be his fault if he decided you weren’t worth all the hassle. Honestly, you might’ve been a little relieved if that was the case. Running into Jungkook…it made you remember why you avoided dating.

But despite your expectations, your phone buzzed again and you jumped to grab it.

Blind Date: This person…you really didn’t want to see him?

You: No. It’s just a painful reminder of the past.

You: !!! God, I keep saying awkward things !!! Haha, please forget I said anything. Where are you?

Blind Date: No! It’s not awkward at all. I’m just…

Blind Date: I’m sorry you had to see him then, I guess.

You: Jeez…

You: You’re a really nice guy, aren’t you?

Blind Date: Haha! I don’t know about that…

Blind Date: How about we reschedule for another time? I get the feeling you wouldn’t really be up for a movie right now anyway.

You panicked, heart kicking up. Despite everything you told yourself, you were a little bit happy he was being so understanding. And even though you were scared, you wanted to see if…well…if maybe this guy might be different.

You shook your head. Of course you shouldn’t think that way. Putting your heart out there to be toyed with and thrown aside…you didn’t want to go through it. Not really. And what relationship could be worth all that? You sucked in your breath and typed a quick response, ready to cast Jungkook and this blind date into the banks of your memory to gather dust. Even if this guy did seem sweet…

So had Jungkook, at first.

You: Yeah. That’s probably for the best. I work at that coffeeshop on campus, so I’ll shoot you a text once I get my schedule. :-)

You: I’m sorry for all the trouble today. Seriously.

You sighed and turned on your heel toward the street. If you kept on this sidewalk for a few more blocks, you’d find exit 3. And from there, it was only a 20-minute subway ride home whereupon you could finally collapse on your couch and wait for this cursed weekend to be over.

But before you could take a single step, a text came.

Blind Date: It was no trouble. :D I just feel bad that you had an unpleasant experience…

You: Hey, it’s not your fault haha.

You: Oh yeah! I never gave you my name, did I?

Blind Date: No, actually. Haha.

You: It’s Y/N.

Blind Date: It’s nice to meet you again, Y/N.

Blind Date: You can call me Nochu.

You: … Nochu … ?

Blind Date: Haha, it’s weird huh?

Blind Date: It’s a nickname I prefer.

You: Ah! I see. I’ll call you that then.

You: Nochu.

Blind Date: Y/N :-)

You stood and placed your hands on your lower back and stretched, groaning, a week later. Classes had been dragging lately and with several coworkers sick with a cold, you were one of the only employees left who wasn’t too ill to work. Your body felt like it was slowly failing you. Even your feet were sore from constantly running from place to place. And the quiet coffee shop before you made you feel like taking a long and well-needed nap. Mismatched chairs and bistro tables littered the trendy place and students congregated around the windows or the fireplace or the used bookshelf. Nobody really bothered you except to order or ask for to-go coffee sleeves. Mostly, you just stood there. For hours. Watching everything and nothing at once.

But today the energy was a little different. You’d heard from Sua that the graphic design students were approaching an important deadline, and from the looks of the crowd it seemed that deadline was heavy on everyone’s minds. Laptops and drawing tablets and plenty of coffee littered the tables as students chatted in small groups, none of them looking all too happy. You wondered what the project was, but didn’t want to bother Sua with a useless question. So instead, you just watched over customer’s shoulders as they added thick white lines to separate sections of illustrations or grabbed whole images with slender styluses and slid them to new spaces.

“Excuse me?”

You jumped and turned to the queue which up until moments ago had been completely empty. You made sure to manage your expression with a tight smile and bowed your head. “Sorry,” you said quietly, lifting your eyes to meet the customer.

And, to your shock and horror, you saw a familiar face amongst the group of thee college-aged boys. Jeon Jungkook stood in the middle, a half-pace behind the guy who had roused your attention, and if his expression was anything to go by, he was just as horrified to see you as you were to see him. You felt your back go perfectly straight, eyes wide and lips parted through which only shallow exhales escaped. Your palms grew sweaty and your heart thump-thumped to an uneven cadence.

“Um, what can I make for you?” you asked finally, managing a tight smile at the speaker of the group whose attention was affixed to the sign above your head, reading the menu with squinted eyes. “If you need more time…,” you hedged, avoiding Jungkook’s gaze which you felt burning circles into your face.

“Ah, no I’ve got it,” said the first guy with a polite smile your way. “I’ll have a green tea latte.”

You nodded and wrote it down on your notepad, just to keep things straight. Had your coworkers been stronger in their constitution, you’d have given the order to one of them to get started on. Perhaps you’d even get started yourself and leave the cashiering to them. But alas, you were alone and painfully aware of it.

“Will you be paying separately or together?” you asked, a tinge of hope in your voice. Please say together, please say together, please say together, you thought over and over, like an endless mantra.

The first boy chuckled and gave Jungkook’s shoulder a firm punch. “Like I’ll pay for these good-for-nothings,” he joked before returning his attention to you, smiling. He had a kind smile, but even that did little to ease your anxieties. You simply nodded and took his card as he stretched it out toward you.

The second guy approached, another brown-haired college kid with a polite grin and baggy spring clothes, and hummed. “I’ll do the caramel macchiato,” he said with a nod, fingers still clasping his chin as he scanned the menu and you scribbled his order. “Ah!” he said, pointing at you. You jumped, still on edge with adrenaline coursing through you, but quickly settled with a smile. “And a slice of banana bread.”

“Banana bread,” you mumbled to yourself as you wrote it. “Okay.”

The second handed you a credit card which you swiped quickly, eager to get this whole encounter over with. He took it back with a bow and a smile which you struggled to return because the moment you glanced over his shoulder you caught Jungkook’s gaze, intense, warm browns peering at you like you held answers he’d been searching for. Despite yourself, you blushed and glanced back toward your notepad.

Finally, the moment of reckoning arrived and your nerves made your hands a little shaky as they clasped the pen and paper. Your eyes wavered around the space between your own hands, measuring the empty air, desperate not to look at Jungkook again.

“Um…,” he mumbled, voice a low rumble in his chest. You almost wanted to squeeze your eyes shut altogether, even though you knew how dumb that’d make you look. “Can I get a strawberry smoothie?”

You almost laughed. It was so like him to come to a coffeeshop and order something like that. It was so like him to still have a weak palate when it came to bitter things. It was so like him to chase after you that day, to show up here on coincidence. It was so like him to be exactly who you remembered him to be. Exactly who he was back then.

Slowly, once you’d written his order down, you lifted your eyes and looked at him properly at last. He was dressed well, casual as you expected, all black as you expected, handsome as you expected. His hair was half-styled out of his eyes, and those eyes were the problem really. Dark and depthless, staring down at you with furrowed brow, jaw clenched. If anyone had doubts you two knew each other before, they’d certainly know now with the way he was watching you. The way he hadn’t taken his eyes off of you for even a second.

“That’s all?” you asked.

“Um…yeah,” he responded, blinking at you like he had more to say.

By then, his friends had begun setting up camp amongst the mismatched sofas and recliners, setting up their computers. You caught sight of a drawing tablet as its corner poked out the top of the first boy’s backpack. So they were design majors too? Maybe your blind date had met one of these guys, then. But wait. If his friends were, did that mean…

“You’re a design major?” you asked, unable to stop yourself.

But once you said it, you wished to suck the words back inside like tapioca balls through a straw because across Jungkook’s face flashed a brief glimmer of excitement, eyes wide, mouth already open and poised to respond.

“Yeah!” he said, smiling a little. “I…uh, well you remember how I liked to draw.”

You nodded, typing the total into your cash register. “Yeah, I remember.”

“Listen, Y/N, I’m really sorry about-,”

“Let’s not rehash things here,” you said, eyeing him from beneath your lashes, scanning the shop like a conspirator in search of any prying eyes, any listening ears. “It doesn’t matter anyway. We’ve both moved on so let’s just keep it at that.”

Jungkook shut his mouth and, after a long moment, sighed. “Alright,” he said, sounding defeated. You hazarded a glance up at him and found his eyes long-sighted, gazing down at the counter between you without really looking at it.

“It’ll be 3,500 won,” you said, holding out one hand towards him.

He blinked and shook his head a little, as if returning to himself, and yanked his wallet from the front pocket of his loose joggers. He pulled out a bill and handed it to you. 20,000. Was that the smallest bill he had on him? You examined it with a thinly-veiled scowl. Of course, he was probably making good money doing something impressive. That was Jungkook anyway. The type of guy who just…made things come to him. Like the universe responded to his will. You sighed and went to work on the old register, punching in the amount and sliding the bill inside. You produced his change to find him already bounding toward his friends with his broad back to you.

Panicked, you rushed to the side of the barista station and called out to him. “Hey! You forgot your change!” you shouted, cupping one hand around your mouth. A few patrons turned to look at you and Jungkook.

He barely glanced back at you when he said, “You can keep it.”

And suddenly you were blushing for a very different reason.

That jerk, you thought to yourself as you watched him plug away at some ad he was working on on his tablet. Evening had fallen slowly upon the city of Seoul, and you wanted nothing more than to stroll out into the lavender evening, forgetting this whole unpleasant day. But instead, you had to wait for your coworker, Sora, to relieve you after making you work fifteen minutes past the end of your shift. Scowling, you kept a hawk’s eye on Jungkook and, unbeknownst to him, wished silent curses upon his head. I hope you go bald, you thought. Or worse, I hope you go out for fried chicken and you get only tendons. You crossed your arms and lolled your head to the side.

You shouldn’t have expected Jungkook to change. He’d always been a ‘my pace’ kind of guy. Maybe leaving that tip was his way of flexing his money to you. That he had enough money to just throw around at random baristas he used to hook up with in high school. Or maybe he was pitying you, looking down on you for working such a menial job. Either way, it made your blood boil. You felt the money crinkle in the pocket of your jeans with every step.

You’d briefly considered spitting in his smoothie, but you didn’t want to lose your job over Jeon Jungkook.

After all, you’d already lost your youth to the kid.

You glanced outside and watched the rainclouds gathering. Of course, you’d forgotten to bring an umbrella. It wasn’t like you’d checked the weather on the way out. Grumpily, you glanced down at your phone to check the time. Twenty minutes late now. What did Sora have to do that was so important? Normally, you’d complain to a friend. But Sua was about the closest you had these days and you weren’t sure you could trouble her with it.

But…were you really friends if you didn’t reach out to her from time to time?

Sighing, you glanced around the shop, making sure nobody was watching you, and unlocked your phone. So much had already happened that a quick message didn’t seem reasonable, but you couldn’t very well bury your head in your phone so after every few clicks you’d sweep your gaze around. You settled for an anxious few words between nervous glances at the rest of the shop. Realistically, you were off the clock anyway. But you didn’t want any bad Yelp reviews on your behalf.

You: Sua, on God today is cursed.

You waited a few moments for a response before growing impatient. Everything was taking forever today: that interaction with Jungkook, Sora taking over your shift, and now Sua not responding. Of course, she had no obligation to. She was probably busy with her own preparation much like the other graphic design students. You had no right to expect that of her.

Wasn’t that your problem from the start? Expecting too much?

Your phone buzzed in response as your mind began to drift toward melancholy thoughts and as you slid it open your eyes went wide and your fingertips chilled as the blood rushed to your cheeks.

Blind Date: Hah…I’m not Sua, but I am willing to listen if you need it…?

Blind Date: Was wondering when I’d hear from you.

Mortified didn’t even begin to cover it. You cupped a hand over your lips in horror, and just as you were about to melt into a pile of melted pride on the floor, the door swung open and a breathless Sora met your eyes with a nervous smile. You swallowed hard and pocketed your phone, offering Sora your full attention. He bowed his head to you, bending at the waist, as he approached the counter.

“I am so sorry for being late!” he shouted, loud enough for every patron to glance at him and, subsequently, you.

Your flushed face went beet red as Jungkook turned to stare at you, eyes wide. Of course, another embarrassing moment in front of that guy. “U-um, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it,” you said, waving your hands.

He sniffled and looked up at you, eyes red with impending tears. “I really didn’t mean to, but I fell asleep after class today and-,”

“Sora, it’s cool,” you said, removing your apron and hanging it on the rack behind you. “I’m gonna go now though so I can catch my subway.”

Sora stiffened and nodded, giving you a salute before scampering behind the counter and putting on his own apron. “I really am sorry!” he called after you.

You waved a hand and rushed out onto the sidewalk, lingering beneath the awning as the rain began to drizzle from overhead. You returned your attention to your phone, pushing your hair behind your ears so you could see properly, and swallowed your nerves.

You: I…am such an idiot.

You: I’m so sorry. I was at work and I’m not supposed to be on my phone, but I just…

You: Jesus, honestly you can just delete my number. I don’t think I can look at your contact anymore without cringing.

You were poised to take a step out into the rain when your phone vibrated again and you jumped to read it with barely shaking hands.

Blind Date: No! It’s okay. Seriously.

Blind Date: I can list dumber things I’ve done today alone.

Blind Date: Besides, sounds like you need someone to talk to anyway…?

You blinked at your phone screen a few times, cocking your head to the side. Somehow, his words had calmed you down, just a little. Your flaming cheeks were cooler now when you poked one with the pad of your finger. Your heart wasn’t a hammer against your ribcage. And as you glanced over your shoulder at the window into the coffeeshop, you found Jungkook was no longer in sight. With a few texts alone, things seemed a little better.

You: I won’t bore you with all of it, haha.

You: It was more of a Sua story anyway I think.

You: I’m trying to break through that kinda hesitant first stage of friendship with her and

You: Well anyway, I’m sorry to bother you. Hope you’re doing good?

Blind Date: Haha, hey I get it. Friendships are weird. Took me a while to make any real friends this year since I was so shy.

You: You were shy?

Blind Date: Oh big time. I still don’t really know how to approach people without saying or doing something wrong.

Blind Date: Like today. I think I came across like an asshole to someone.

Blind Date: That happens a lot actually -_-

Blind Date: Being nervous makes me act weird.

You: Really? You sound really confident over text.

Blind Date: Haha really? That’s good to hear at least.

Blind Date: I’m about the least confident person I know.

Blind Date: Whew, not exactly the impression I wanted to give to a possible date! Oops.

You smiled at your phone and began typing out a response when the door by your hip swung open and out walked Jungkook and his friends. Jungkook caught your eye as your smile was slipping into a scowl and you quickly righted yourself, looking away down the busy street. You held your phone close to your chest and popped a hip out to the side, feigning disinterest.

“See you guys tomorrow,” said one boy.

“Yeah,” responded Jungkook, and you saw out the corner of your eye that the guys parted ways. Jungkook lingered beside you underneath the awning, watching you keenly. “Who were you texting?” he asked.

You stiffened and glanced up at him with a frown. “Is that any of your business?” you asked.

He flushed a little, rubbed the back of his head, and let out a few breathy laughs. “Sorry. Guess not,” he said with a sigh.

For a few moments the two of you just stood there, silent. You weren’t sure what to do next without an umbrella, and you didn’t want Jungkook to think you were just…spending time with him for fun. But still, you didn’t move or make a sound. Just watched the steadily increasing rainfall splatter against the pavement, gathering in pools beside the sidewalk.

“Listen,” he began, turning to you properly. You eyed him from below with raised brows. “I really don’t want any bad energy between us, okay? I know things were messy before, but we’re in college now. It’s been years, right?” Some of the tension between you broke, but it was quickly replaced by a new tension: your outrage.

You blinked at him, working your jaw. “Jungkook, you don’t get to tell me when I’m allowed to stop being hurt,” you said, shaking your head. “Seeing you is a little painful, even though it’s been a long time. So…maybe just ignore me.”

Jungkook sighed and gripped the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry, Y/N. You know I am.”

You shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. I don’t really want anything to do with you,” you said, meeting his eyes. Your own calm surprised you. He looked desperate, brows knit and lips parted. “I don’t know why it’s so hard for you to just leave me alone.”

He blinked a few times, eyes wide. “I…I mean, we go to the same school now and everything. I just transferred this year and it’s…I don’t really know many people. It’s not like we’re strangers, so why should we act like we are?”

You swallowed your anger. “I’m gonna go now,” you said, adjusting your bag on your shoulder and walking out into the rain. You turned to look at him. “I don’t think you get what I’m saying, so it’s not worth repeating it again in a different way. Just…leave me alone.”

But before you could take a single step toward the subway entrance three blocks away, Jungkook was beside you in the rain, fiddling with his umbrella. “Wh-what are you doing? I just said to leave me alone!” you called at him over the sound of the rain around you.

Jungkook spat rainwater out from between his lips and shook his head as the umbrella finally popped open and the rain stopped pummeling you, now ricocheting off the nylon. You stared up at Jungkook underneath the dark umbrella, confined beneath it, confined to this small, enclosed space. Your chest was nearly touching his arm and his breath was warm as it fanned across your face. Strawberries. Like his smoothie. Rain was caught in his long eyelashes and his rosy lips were still parted, cheeks a warm pink. He stared down at you and for a brief moment, you felt a hot, shooting sensation running from the top of your head to your toes.

“Let me walk you to the station at least,” he said, scanning you.

You felt a little faint, and the sweet scent of his cologne only made you more disoriented. “I’m fine. It’s only a few blocks,” you said, but even you could admit your voice sounded weak.

He sighed, eyes falling to the ground. “I know I hurt you a lot back then, but…,” he began, then shook his head. “Even if it’s small, I wanna make it up to you somehow. So…let me walk you.”

You rubbed your bare forearm and inhaled sharply, shutting your eyes for a moment. “Fine,” you forced out and the two of you began walking.

“So…,” said Jungkook after a few moments of uncomfortable silence. “How was your date the other day?”

You groaned. “What we’re not gonna do is this.”

Jungkook chuckled. “Sorry,” he said, shaking his head. “Just curious.”

You watched your hands, clasped in front of you, and sighed. “It didn’t happen,” you said. If nothing else, at least your time with Jungkook made you remarkably comfortable talking to him about your thoughts and feelings. “We cancelled.”

“Why?” he asked, brows high.

You shrugged. “After seeing you, I was kinda crabby so…”

“It was my fault?” He pointed with his free hand to his own chest, eyes wide.

“I mean, yeah but not really,” you said with an easy exhale. “It’s for the best anyway. He seems like a really nice guy. I don’t wanna end up hurting his feelings or something.”

“You’d rather be alone than risk having things end badly?” he asked.

You peered up at him. “Wonder why that is,” you mumbled before glancing away.

He sighed. “Sorry.”

“Mhm.”

The rest of the walk was silent as the two of you were forced to simply live with the words you’d exchanged, unable to do anything to alter the events that led you here. All you could do was walk forward, united under a shared umbrella for just a moment, until you ducked out from beneath it and disappeared down the subway station stairs, not even pausing for a moment to wave or say goodbye.

Blind Date: Yikes, did I really scare you off?

You raised your brows at your phone screen as the subway bumped along. It was too crowded to find a seat, so you stood cramped between a stout businessman and a high school girl, all of you holding the railing overhead for stability. You couldn’t help it, but again you smiled. After all the craziness that had come from the day, this stranger seemed to help you feel at ease.

You: Haha nope! It’d take more than that.

You: I bumped into someone I didn’t want to see, so I had to take care of that.

Blind Date: !!! Same person as before??

You: Yeah, if you can believe it lol.

Blind Date: (o_O)

Blind Date: How unlucky can a person be?

You: That’s what I’m saying. (￢_￢;)

You: That’s actually one of the things I was gonna complain to Sua about.

You: Y’know, teenage heartbreak and high school angst. Etc.

Blind Date: Hey, I said it before. I’d love to listen!

Blind Date: Aight, that was too enthusiastic. How about: I wouldn’t mind hearing you out!

You: Lol, good addendum.

You: I mean, it’s not like it’s really that serious. Just…in high school I was really shy. I didn’t have very many friends and I thought that I was fine on my own, you know?

You: But I guess I was lonelier than I thought haha. There was this really handsome guy in my class who started sitting with me on the roof at lunch. At first, neither of us really said anything. Just…sitting together.

You: But after a while, we got pretty close. Half a school year maybe. He said he came up there because the air was nice, but I had a feeling it had to do with the fact that he was a little too popular for his own good. Everyone wanted to talk to him. But he was like me.

You: Introverted, I mean.

Blind Date: Sounds like you two were good friends, then?

You: Yeah, until I caught feelings lol. Mistake.

Blind Date: You confessed??

You: Hehe…yes.

You: After a while being close, I felt really comfortable telling him anything. I told him it wasn’t like I was expecting him to date me or anything. I just wanted him to know so he could be a little more careful around me.

You: But it seemed like he reciprocated.

You: We started dating…I guess?

You: Never put a label on it, which was another mistake on my part for not asking.

You: But we did everything couples did, just…not really in front of anyone from school.

You: Never asked about that either lol.

Blind Date: Oh…

Blind Date: I mean…that doesn’t sound so good…

You: Haha, it’s probably exactly what it sounds like because once we’d been together for about a year, he ended things really suddenly. We were getting ready to apply for colleges and he was gonna go for one in a different city. He said it wouldn’t work out.

You: I fought really hard for it, but he started saying pretty mean things and I didn’t want to get hurt so I ended up conceding.

Blind Date: Mean things?

You: Things I don’t really wanna type out haha…

Blind Date: Shit! Sorry, sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.

You: Hey, don’t worry! Old wounds. I should probably get over it, really.

You: No time like the present!

You: He said he never really liked me and he was only with me because he felt bad for me. Didn’t really love hearing that.

You: He said because I didn’t have friends, he pitied me. That was why he went to the roof to eat with me. Why he kissed me and all that. Took me on dates. ┐(￣ヘ￣)┌  Pretty dumb, imo, but that’s what he said and it seemed like he meant it anyway lol.

Blind Date: Y/N…

You: Hey, you asked!

Blind Date: That’s really shitty. You didn’t deserve that.

Blind Date: You carried that around with you all these years?

You: Hah, admitting it sounds kinda pathetic, huh?

You: I guess it’s not the sort of thing you just…get over. I think I really loved him too, so…

You: Anyway, seeing him now is really weird. Never thought I’d see him around here again, but suddenly he’s everywhere haha. Definitely doesn’t feel great, tbh.

You: Ew, sorry for laying all that on you. Not exactly small talk.

Blind Date: No!! Don’t apologize. I’m glad you talked to me about it. Honestly…I feel really sorry for you. It sounds like the whole thing affected you a lot. :-(

Blind Date: If it makes you feel better, I think I can understand you a little!

Blind Date: Like I said, I’m a bit shy myself. It’s not an issue of having friends, but finding good ones. It’s hard for me to socialize without saying something dumb and regretting it. So for a while, when I first started college, I isolated myself a lot. I didn’t want to make any more mistakes, you know?

Blind Date: But recently, I’ve met some people who are really kind. People who don’t judge me when I mess things up (which is often haha). They help me communicate better.

You: You communicate really well, I think :-)

Blind Date: Haha, thank you. I’m actually blushing a little, whew. Uh, I guess it’s because it’s easier to type things out. Speaking is hard because you can’t just reword things before sending them. You say it out loud and it’s forever, you know?

You: Yeah! Jeez, that actually happened to me today (—_—)

You: I’m glad someone else understands it lol

Blind Date: Yeah, me too.

By the time you received the last message, you were already back inside your apartment, soaked from the walk home. You’d used your bag to cover your phone as you walked and typed, so now the thing was slumped against your dining chair like a sopping wet creature. But still, you smiled at your phone. Even though the conversation with Jungkook had been jarring, you’d almost forgotten it after chatting with your blind date. It felt oddly vulnerable to reveal so much to him, but his reaction had been really reassuring. You set your phone aside and padded to the bathroom to dry yourself a little with a towel, catching sight of yourself in the mirror. Your cheeks were a little flushed, eyes clear, and still smiling. You shook your head, trying to shake off your grin, but when you glanced back at your reflection it was still the same.

With the towel dangling across your shoulders, you returned to the living room and saw your phone lit up with another new text. Smiling, you unlocked it and read what he had to say.

Blind Date: Off topic, but uh…

Blind Date: Did you happen to catch the most recent episode of Game of Thrones?

Blind Date: Because I need to talk about it or I might explode.

You raised your brows and, without meaning to, you laughed. Was this okay? Was it alright to become close to someone like this again? Was it alright to be excited about someone again? You were fearful, cautious, hesitant. After everything with Jungkook, you’d found it impossible to trust people’s intentions. Were they being nice to you because they liked you or because they felt bad for you? Would you get hurt if you trusted the goodwill of the people around you?

You: Um…

You: CAN WE TALK ABOUT ARYA???

You weren’t going to talk to him again.

Well…that was your intention anyway. But by Friday, you’d spent every night up late chatting with this Nochu guy. It wasn’t like you talked about anything all that interesting or profound. Music you liked, games you played, anime you watched. You’d spent the better portion of Thursday night talking about whether Fullmetal Alchemist or Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood was superior. You weren’t sure why you were compelled to respond every time his name lit up your phone. And you really weren’t sure why you were the one reaching out to him now as you sat watching your professor detail the process of molecular movement across a cell membrane.

Perhaps you’d missed making easy conversation with someone you liked talking to…

After high school, you’d become something of a recluse. You spent more nights in than out and despite doing well in your classes, you’d found yourself…slightly lonesome. That’s why when Sua gave you her number after you’d successfully finished a project together a few months ago, you’d been quick to take it. Even though it was a little scary, some small part of you wanted to trust people again.

And maybe that’s why too. Why you were sending this stupid text in the middle of your lecture.

You: Hey dude. You free today?

Blind Date: Hm? Why?

You: Idk, Burger King or smth?

Blind Date: Hehe, are you trying to revive our dead romance?

You: O.O Our romance died already? After one failed date?

Blind Date: Hahaha I mean…you can try giving it CPR if you want…?

Blind Date: Mouth-to-mouth ;-D

You: Yuck, I take it back. Our romance is dead and buried.

You: Anyway, you free?

Blind Date: Uh yeah probs later. I’ve got class until 4.

Blind Date: Does that work for your Burger King plan?

Blind Date: I know it’s hard to get a reservation at that place on short notice >.<

You: I take it all back.

You: I have plans tonight, soz.

You: Talk to ya later, weeb.

You smiled and set your phone down beside your notebook, refocusing on your professor.  But your attention was quickly assuaged by your phone vibrating once more. You smirked down at it and, covertly, read the slew of oncoming text messages with a chuckle.

Blind Date: !!! That’s rude !!!

Blind Date: You can’t just offer a Burger King date and snatch it out from under me like that.

Blind Date: I’ll be mad if you jerk me around >:-(

Blind Date: You see that face? I mean BUSINESS.

You: Calm down lol, I was kidding.

You: Let’s meet at the Burger King next to the ramen place near campus?

Blind Date: Hehe, sounds good :-P

Blind Date: Ah, but don’t be too surprised when you meet me, okay?

Blind Date: I don’t want you fainting when you see my handsome face 8-)

You: Mhm, I’ll be sure not to faint.

Blind Date: I mean…a little fainting is fine…

You: Haha shut up. I’ll see you there. Looking forward to putting a face to the texts!

Blind Date: Hopefully my face doesn’t disappoint lol.

You: Yikes, mine either.

Blind Date: Yours won’t.

Blind Date: Haha, I’m sure you’ll look great. That’s what I meant.

Blind Date: Ew, all of that was hard to read. Forget I said anything hhhhhh.

You smiled fondly at your phone before sliding it into your bag. “You look kinda smitten,” said Sua from beside you.

You jumped and glanced at her as the rest of the class began packing up. She was grinning at you like a co-conspirator, brows low, knowing grin on her face. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve been texting someone named Blind Date during every class period for a week,” she said, cocking a brow. “I take it you guys hit it off?”

You felt yourself go warm. Not like with Jungkook the other day, but like something else. Something a little deeper than a physical reaction. Nonetheless, you cleared your throat and smiled at Sua. “He’s a good guy. I think we could be good friends.”

“Friends?” she asked with a laugh, flitting her hand as the two of you stood together. “Sounds boring. Get a smooch or two out of it or it’s a bust.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I don’t really know if he’d be interested in me that way.”

“What about you?” she asked, eyeing you. “Would you be interested?”

You stared at her for a long moment, eyes wide, and opened and shut your mouth a few times. “I…,” you began, then glanced at your feet. You followed her out into the hallway where students hurried by in a flash beside you. “I mean…”

Sua paused her walking to stare back at you, her teasing grin replaced with a genuine one. “Wait, do you actually like him-like him?” she asked, eyes alight.

You stiffened, scratching your arm, and sighed. “Jeez, I don’t know! Maybe,” you said, waving your hands. “Forget it, I’ve got another class soon.”

She laughed as you maneuvered around her through the hall, calling after you. “You’re cute when you’ve got a crush!”

You sat at a booth by yourself at Burger King, waiting for your not-date to show up. It had only been a few minutes and already your anxiety was starting to speak in your ear. He’s not showing up, it whispered, You’re an idiot. And maybe you were. Looking around the fast food joint, you saw more than a few couples, sitting side-by-side or gazing at each other over fried chicken. You didn’t envy them. Not that way. Just…maybe it was the human connection you missed more than anything. Last time you’d been in this situation, you were still deeply in love with Jeon Jungkook.

You were sixteen and you sat twiddling your thumbs on a suburban bench overlooking Seoul. Trees swayed in the summer breeze and carried with them the scent of young hopefulness, naivety in the form of dogwood blossoms. You watched the uneven cityscape before you as it resisted the pull of the wind, and far in the distance, slightly glittering in the sunlight, the Han River. Jungkook had said he’d be there at exactly two. It was ten past, and you were getting a little nervous. You’d confessed not a week prior during the last week of school, and to your shock Jungkook had been receptive. He hadn’t said anything bold like ‘I like you too’ or ‘let’s date’ but he had invited you out for some ice cream and you figured that was much the same thing for him.

Maybe he’s just being nice, you thought to yourself with a sigh. You’d spent a long time picking out the right outfit, getting your hair to lay just right. And still, you didn’t feel quite up to par with him. Girls were always confessing their love for him. Guys too. What made you any different than the dozens of other hopefuls? He probably won’t come…

“Y/N!” called a voice from the winding, hilly street.

You jumped and turned, and your heart swelled as you saw Jungkook running down the sidewalk toward you, grinning from ear to ear. And that was what did you in. That sincerity, that vigor, that enthusiasm…all for you. You stood up to meet him and chuckled as he caught his breath, patting his chest.

“Sorry, sorry,” he said, panting. “My mom started lecturing me, so I got tied up.” After a few moments regaining his composure, he finally looked at you properly and when he did, you noticed his cheeks going red hot, eyes round. “Oh, wow,” he said, glancing away with a jittery laugh. “S-Sorry, you…you look really nice.”

You felt a little faint. You’d spent months pining after this kid, pining after this purity you kept glimpsing in him, and now…

He was saying you looked nice.

It was almost enough to knock the breath out of you.

You smiled at your shoes and rubbed your neck. “Th-thank you,” you said.

He laughed, nervous once more, and gave your shoulder a shove. “Hey, don’t get all clammy on me, okay? Nothing’s weird between us. Just…two pals…on a date.”

You jumped and stared up at him with unbridled surprise. “Date?” you asked, shameless hope in your voice.

He laughed, eyes turning to crescents, and nodded. “What else would it be?” Of course. Of course, since it was Jungkook, the answer was just that simple, wasn’t it?

You swallowed hard and tried to manage your expression, but you couldn’t fight the smile teasing your lips. “Oh,” you said, letting out a breathy laugh.

He examined you for a moment, scanning you. You weren’t used to going out with friends, let alone dating. All of this was new and exhilarating to you. But you felt a sudden wave of shyness that you couldn’t fight off, and a slightly pleasant self-consciousness. You felt him looking at you, and it didn’t feel like he hated looking. You became very aware of your body, each limb, each finger. Still smiling a little, you laughed again, unsure of what else to do. These were uncharted waters, after all.

“Hm,” he said, bending down to meet your eyes. You blushed and leaned away a little, but he was blushing too and it made you feel better knowing perhaps he was just as nervous as you. “Lemme prove it.”

Your eyes went wide, but before you could say or do anything, Jungkook closed the distance between you, tipping his chin so that your lips met. His lips were warm and soft. They tasted like chapstick and banana milk. You didn’t move, not a single muscle, and perhaps this worried him because he was quick to lean away and stare down at you, fresh insecurity on display in his warm brown eyes.

“Sorry! Was that too sudden?” he asked, laughing and glancing away, down the quiet street. “Jeez, I got carried away, huh? Ha, I’m sorry.”

Before he could spiral, you took a timid step forward and pushed yourself onto your toes. Gently, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling yourself nearer to him. He jumped and looked at you with stunned eyes. But you didn’t give him a chance to think too much, because before long you were kissing him, head tilted to the side, eyes shut. Without much pause, his hands found your waist and stayed there, respectful, unsure.

And somehow, you’d summoned the courage to do it. To kiss him back.

Because he showed up, after all.

He didn’t leave you alone…

Fifteen minutes now and you were beginning to worry. You reasoned that at least there were worse places to be stood up. A nice steakhouse, for instance. At least here you weren’t the only solo diner. But nonetheless, the feeling of a deep gut-punch was only growing. Dread and disappointment mingled into a bitter cocktail in the pit of your stomach. Wouldn’t this just be…poetic? Getting stood up for your first date after years of fear and emotional isolation?

Wouldn’t that be exactly what would happen?

Thirty minutes. At first, you tried to tell yourself he was probably just running late from a class. After all, the walk from campus alone was around seven minutes. Maybe he’d gotten released late. Maybe he’d gotten held up with a professor or classmate. You stared at your Whopper with dead eyes now, watching the cold burger as all the heat drained from it. It was too late to save it now. And perhaps it had never been meant for you to eat anyway. Maybe it was your destiny to become a vegetarian or something.

Nonetheless, you sent a text.

Even though it felt pathetic.

You: Hey, uh…we still on for Burger King?

You: No rush, haha.

You: Just a little worried…

Was this revenge for ruining the first date? Some elaborate plot to get back at you? He seemed like a really sweet guy, but so had Jungkook after all. After several minutes without a reply, you began to accept the fact that you’d been thoroughly stood up. Your throat constricted, eyes going a little hazy, and resolved to wait a little longer. Just a little.

Forty-eight minutes. No reply and no date. By then, plenty of customers had come and gone through the front doors, none of them him. You couldn’t bring yourself to take even one bite of food, the money wasted, the time wasted too. How much time had you wasted, really? How much of your life had you spent watering dead plants?

When Jungkook told you he wanted to break up, you’d been in disbelief. The two of you were close, so close it almost hurt, and the sudden end felt like a slap in the face or a jolt to the heart. You’d fought him in his room that night, the sunset turning the ends of his hair gold, turning his eyes gold too. He had no right being so handsome at a moment like that. You asked for a reason and he said he didn’t want any strings going in to college. He wanted to be unaffiliated. But you couldn’t accept that. You couldn’t accept that the time you spent together had meant so little to him, that the relationship was a dead plant from the start.

I was only dating you because I felt bad for you! he’d shouted once he’d had enough. Ever wonder why I never told anyone about us?! You’d been stunned then, stunned silent. Your brain was failing to process his words. He’d never spoken that way to you before. How much time had you spent in love? How much time had he spent pitying you? I was your only friend, for God’s sake! What did you expect me to do?!

Perhaps you’d been right after all. Perhaps giving yourself to other people was too dangerous, too painful. Perhaps loving someone wasn’t worth it, perhaps it could never be completely reciprocal. Perhaps any relationship you had would be a waste of time. Perhaps all you were destined to do was water dead plants until finally, you decided it was enough.

One hour. You stood up from your seat, wiped beneath your eyes as the tears you’d been fighting finally crested over your bottom eyelid, and carried your tray to the garbage. You slid your trash into the bin and, sniffling, wandered out toward the exit. Customers avoided walking too close to you, likely noticing the tears that were now tracking stubbornly down your cheeks. You would have wiped them, had you had the energy to care.

But all you wanted was to go home and be alone.

Alone for a while.

You pushed your way outside, taking in the fresh spring day. No more rain, even though you would have welcomed it. It could have concealed your crying, your red nose and swelling eyes. You could have cowered beneath a bus stop and nobody would have noticed you. Nobody would have noticed.

Instead, the spring day was gorgeous, teasingly beautiful. The sun was beginning to set on the horizon, and people milled about through the street, smiling and chatting easily. Sniffling, you wiped your nose and joined them, walking down the sidewalk toward the subway entrance near campus.

You were overreacting. You didn’t even know this guy that well yet. He wasn’t a boyfriend, he wasn’t someone you’d given your whole heart to. He hadn’t betrayed you, because deep down you’d expected this. Maybe that’s what upset you so much. Being proven right.

You exited the crowd of people a block from the Burger King and walked with your head down toward the subway entrance. You were about to step on to the escalator when you heard someone call your name.

“Y/N!”

You turned slowly, eyes bleary from all the crying, and rubbed your tears away to see them clearly. Again, like he had some sort of sense for when you were most humiliated, Jungkook stepped toward you. His face was contorted in worry, thick brows knit, mouth agape as he stared down at you, scanning you.

You sniffled and nodded. “What?” you asked.

“What are you doing?” he asked softly, taking you by the crook of the arm and leading you toward a more sparsely populated alley beside the sidewalk. You didn’t fight. Didn’t have it in you. “Are you okay?” he asked, his own eyes watery as he looked down at you, forcing your head up as he held it between two big, warm hands.

You kept your gaze on the dirty ground. “Let me go,” you said, but it was weak.

“Y/N…,” he whispered, smoothing his thumb against your cheek. “Jesus.”

“What?” you asked, looking at him quick, fierce. “Are you pitying me?”

His eyes went wide and he shook his head. Looking at him now, he seemed pretty shaken himself. Why did the two of you keep bumping into each other like this? “No! No, that’s not it.”

“Then what?” you asked, shaking his hands off your face. “What is it, huh? Here to show off your money? Show me how good you’re doing while I’m working minimum wage? Huh? Do you like feeling superior?”

He swallowed hard, his expression revealing some sort of hurt you couldn’t name. “No! Please, it’s not that! Let me explain-,”

“No! You don’t have any right to ask me to listen to you!” you said, sobbing. You wiped your eyes with your forearm and shook your head. “Just leave me alone! Everyone!” you shouted.

Jungkook took your shoulders in his hands to keep you still and you tried a few times to shake yourself free, but to no avail. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

You kept crying, the ancient pain welling up from inside you like some age-old reserve finally erupting. Your body rocked with the force of your tears. “Isn’t it pathetic? The minute I start trying to reach out, I get stood up?” you asked with a manic laugh. “Doesn’t that just make you feel so good? Aren’t I pitiable?”

Jungkook’s own tears were pooling in his eyes and you could see them there, threatening to fall. “Please,” he said quietly.

You shook your head. “Isn’t this what you want? Someone to look down on? Someone to feel bad for?” you asked, face wet from the tears. “Can’t you just leave me alone?!” you shouted, loud enough to rouse the attention of a few people on the sidewalk behind Jungkook’s back.

Jungkook, without another word, sniffled sharply and pulled you flush against his chest. You struggled against his strong hold for a few moments, writhing, before finally submitting. Without even meaning to, you wrapped your arms around his torso and sobbed into his black shirt. He held you close, resting his cheek on your head. You could have sworn you felt a few tears hitting your shoulder.

But before you could get too comfortable in his embrace, you pushed yourself away and stared at him, bitter, angry, from several feet away. You looked at him like a feral thing, like an alleycat. And the way he watched you was different than it was that day by the bench. It was worried now, like a shadow had crossed over his face.

“I’m sorry-,” he began.

You shook your head and shoved past him. “Don’t talk to me. Ever,” you spat as you walked by, rejoining the stream of people on the sidewalk toward the subway entrance.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” asked Sua as the two of you left class.

Half a week had passed, and you were eager for more time to distance you from that unpleasant day. You’d received a slew of texts from your blind date, all of which had gone unanswered. They ranged from the typical I’m so sorry texts to more in-depth explanations. Apparently, he’d gotten nervous. Cold feet, he’d said. Nervous for what, you didn't know and you wouldn’t ask. You were meeting at a Burger King for God’s sake. What could he have been that nervous about?

You glanced at her and offered a tight smile. “Mhm. I’m good. Just…uh…gotta get to work later so I’m thinking about that,” you said, over-explaining. Of course, lying just wasn’t for you.

Sua sighed and hooked an arm around your elbow, leaning close to you as the two of you walked down the hallway. You edged away just slightly, and it seemed she noticed as she turned to you with wide eyes. You hated to admit it, but everything with that Nochu guy had made you wary of even Sua. They did know each other after all. Had this been one big setup from the start? Were the two conspiring to hurt you?

You shook your head and patted her hand with a smile. Of course not. Of course that was crazy. But…something about this whole thing had you feeling crazy. “Sorry,” you said quietly. “Just…met up with someone from my past the other day and it didn’t feel so good.”

She raised her brows. “What? You never mentioned anyone like that before…,” she said, her brows lowering. She looked a little hurt.

You swallowed hard. “Ah, well it’s no big deal,” you said, flitting a hand with a choppy laugh. “It’s in the past for a reason.”

She pouted. “You know you can talk to me, right?” she said, eyeing you.

And with those words, your chest constricted a little and a small pang of guilt clenched your stomach. You didn’t want to end up hurting her. She was sweet and she wanted to be close to you. But what could you do if you just weren’t ready for that? How could you tell her you may never be ready?

Instead, you turned to her and offered a smile. “I know.”

Blind Date: Y/N…

Blind Date: Please respond. Please.

Blind Date: I really really want to explain everything to you.

Blind Date: I know I really hurt you, but I want to explain.

Blind Date: Isn’t that selfish of me?

Blind Date: To hurt you and then ask you to listen to me?

Blind Date: I’m sorry.

Blind Date: I’m selfish.

You sighed as you watched your phone. The coffeeshop was quiet, fewer patrons now that the design students had finished their projects, and you felt safer looking at the onslaught of texts that just wouldn’t stop flooding your phone. You know you can talk to me, right? That’s what Sua said. She had reached out her hand to you.

And you’d pulled back.

You eyed your phone for a long few moments. Wasn’t it time to stop running away because you were scared of being hurt? Wasn’t it time to stop expecting someone to walk all the way across the tightrope to you and start walking to meet them in the middle instead?

Wasn’t it wrong to punish people for something someone else did?

You: Hey…

You: Sorry I haven’t responded. I just needed space I think.

Blind Date: Shit, I know. I’m so sorry.

Blind Date: You know I care about you though, right?

Blind Date: You know I wasn’t trying to hurt you on purpose, right?

You: I mean, we’ve only known each other a few weeks haha.

You: Honestly, I probably overreacted.

You: After everything that happened with that guy I told you about, I think I’m just a little too sensitive. And I took it out on you. And that was wrong.

Blind Date: No, no! Please don’t apologize. Jesus. It’s entirely my fault. All of it.

You: Haha it’s really not. I shouldn’t hold you and him to the same standards when you’re different people. That’s on me.

Blind Date: Can I see you?

You: Huh? So suddenly? I’m working…

Blind Date: The coffeeshop on campus?

You: Yeah…

You: Don’t come right now though!

You: I won’t be able to talk to you anyway.

Blind Date: I’ll wait. When do you get off?

You: Nine…

Blind Date: I’ll see you at nine.

You blushed, staring down at your screen. Since when was he so direct like this? And why did it make your heart race, just a little?

Sua was right. You definitely had a crush…

You watched the front doors as you began cleaning up the coffeeshop. Closing time was coming soon, and with five minutes until nine you were beginning to feel that festering fear that you’d be stood up again. But as that voice returned to your mind, you were quick to quiet it. You wanted to believe in people again. You couldn’t live your life all alone.

So you swept beneath tables and propped chairs atop them. You cleaned the windows. You hummed a pop song to yourself, trying to keep your mind busy. When you glanced outside, you noticed the spring showers had returned and the rain was falling in bullets from the dark sky. With a sigh, you settled down on one of the recliners by the window, watching cars and buses and people speed by. You wondered which one would come inside despite the sign now reading ‘closed’. You wondered who this person was.

Before you realized it, you were dozing off, struggling to keep your eyes open as you reclined against the comfortable cushions. Your breathing became more rhythmic, deeper in your chest with each inhale, and you snuggled into the back of the recliner with a heavy sigh.

And that’s when you heard it. The distinctive ting of the bell dangling over the front door. Your eyes opened wide and you saw his reflection in the mirror beside you. Tall, dressed in dark clothes, hoodie up over his head and an umbrella in his hand, trailing droplets of rainwater onto the wood floor. You wanted to greet him right away, to get a proper look at him, but with your heart racing the way it was you couldn’t find the courage. It was enough for you just to respond to his texts. And now he was here, corporeal, right behind you.

You shut your eyes tight and feigned sleep.

“Y/N?” he called, and somehow you recognized his voice.

No way.

It couldn’t be…

You kept your eyes shut and curled your knees closer to your chest. Slowly, you heard him mill around the shop before pausing beside your recliner. His footsteps got closer, rounding the side of the chair to stand right in front of you. And, quietly, he laughed. And you were certain now. You knew exactly who he was.

You felt a warm, big hand press against the side of your head, smoothing your hair down, and heard a fond sigh. “Jeez,” he mumbled. You felt him crouch down beside your feet and his arm dropped to rest on the arm of the recliner. He gently rocked the chair back and forth for a moment, humming. “Don’t hate me too much, okay?” he asked in a whisper.

And, without another moment’s hesitation, you opened your eyes and stared right down at him. “Jungkook…?” you asked, scanning his face.

His eyes were round with shock and his whole person was wet. He gazed up at you from where he crouched on the floor and, mouth agape, said nothing. Wordlessly, you reached a hand out and touched his cheek with the pad of your index finger. Soaking wet. You sighed and pushed to your feet. Jungkook stumbled a little to accommodate you as you slipped past him to the counter. You rifled through the cabinets before producing a towel. By then, he’d followed you to the counter and was waiting on the other side. Sighing, you waved a hand, signaling for him to join you behind the register. He jumped and followed your silent command, and suddenly you were staring at his broad chest up close.

You swallowed your nerves and draped the towel atop his head. “Dry off,” you said, hopping up to sit on the counter. The lights in the shop were low, and the music still bumped lowly through the stereo. It might have been romantic, if it was anyone else. “Then we can talk.”

He nodded and fluffed the towel through his hair, obscuring his face from view for a few peaceful seconds. “I…I know I have a lot to explain.”

“Yeah,” you said.

He peeked out from behind the towel with one eye, watching you. “Are you mad?”

“Fuming, actually.”

He nodded and let the towel drop to his shoulders. “I expected that,” he said with a sigh. He came to stand in front of your knees, looking right at you with enough sincerity to knock the breath from your lungs. Just like that first date. “I don’t know where to start.”

“So you know Sua?” you asked, letting your heels bounce against the counter’s cabinets.

“Ah, uh, yeah,” he said, rubbing his hands together. “We’re in the same major, so…”

“And you transferred here?”

“Yeah,” he said, meeting your eyes. “It was…no good out in Busan. I missed home too much.”

You nodded, watching your thighs on the counter. “Figures.”

He chuckled wryly. “You know me too well.”

“Thought I did.”

Carefully, he took a single step forward and you jumped, meeting his eyes like a frightened prey. “I never meant for you to carry all that with you for so long,” he said, brows knit and eyes hazy like he may cry. “I didn’t expect you to be so hurt.”

“That’s stupid,” you said. “You can’t tell someone you were only with them out of pity and expect them not to be hurt.”

“I know, I just…Jesus, I’m just stupid,” he said, raking his fingers through his hair. “Since I was moving away, I didn’t want you to waste your time waiting for me to come back, so I wanted to give you a clean break. Since I knew you wouldn’t wanna break up just because of distance.”

You stiffened. “You…what?”

“I didn’t mean it,” he said. “Any of it.”

You felt like you’d been hit right in the diaphragm, like when you play dodgeball and someone throws a ball at your chest. You sat up straighter and stared at him, watching him carefully. “You lied?”

He nodded. “Yeah,” he said, meeting your eyes seriously. It really looked like he might have cried. “I didn’t think it was fair to keep you from meeting new people and making new connections.”

“Then why didn’t you tell anyone we were dating?” you asked, brow low, scanning him for any signs of insincerity.

His eyes went wide. “I…I told you before, my high school friends…they weren’t so great,” he said, shaking his head. “I meant it when I was texting you about all that. How t’s hard for me to find good people.”

“And you didn’t show up to Burger King last time because…?”

He sniffled. “I meant what I said about that too. I was…really nervous. I was scared you’d be disappointed when you found out it was me.”

You sighed. “Why weren’t you just honest with me from the start?” you asked, all animosity draining from your voice as you saw him wiping his red, swelling eyes. “Back in high school. Why didn’t you just tell me all of it then?”

He sniffed and looked away. “I was scared you’d think less of me if you knew I was so insecure. And I didn’t want you to wait for me in college, not when you could’ve been out making new friends.”

“Well, the opposite happened actually,” you said with a dry laugh. “I got really worried that any friends I made would be doing it out of pity.”

Jungkook stiffened. “You…you did?”

You nodded. “Yeah…”

“Shit,” he breathed out, gripping his forehead with two hands. “I’m so stupid!”

Distantly, the sound of the rain picked up outside. You nodded. “Yeah.”

“I’m so sorry,” he said, looking at you once more, startling you with his sincerity. “I messed up so bad. I messed up everything.”

You blinked at him, standing nearly at eye-level, and slowly reached out to wipe beneath his eyes with your fingertips. “Well, you were right about one thing. I wouldn’t have accepted it had you not said what you said.”

He furrowed his brow and leaned into your touch. “I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you,” you said.

He swallowed hard and you watched his Adam’s apple bob. “Really?”

“Well, yeah,” you said with a shrug. “Now that I know everything, it’s hard to be mad at you for being a jerk when you were really just being an idiot.”

He stared at you, inching forward so he rested just between your knees. “I’m so sorry,” he said again.

“Yeah, I know,” you said, letting out half a chuckle as you let your hands drop to his shoulders, giving them a pat.

“Really,” he said, nodding once as he stared right into your eyes.

“Jungkook, it’s-,”

Before you could finish, he had closed the distance between you, one hand grasping your jaw as he pressed a kiss to your lips. You jumped back, eyes wide, and stared at him in shock. He too looked shocked, like he hadn’t meant to do it at all. He shook his head, eyebrows knit, stuttering out syllables that didn’t add up to anything.

“I-I-you-I mean-,” he sputtered, irises shaking. You noticed no small margin of fear in his eyes, like he was terrified he’d messed things up again.

I didn’t want to make any more mistakes, you know?

The words he’d trusted you with through the screen, his sincere thoughts. He really regretted it a lot, didn’t he? Your expression softened as he continued struggling to find words, and, without even really meaning to, you wrapped your fingers around his neck. He didn’t seem to notice, or he was too spooked to comment on it, but you slowly pulled him closer. Just like that day in high school, just like it was when you’d first entered hopefully into this fateful relationship, you leaned in and pressed your lips against his, shutting your eyes. Stunned, he was completely still for a moment before eventually his hands moved to your hips, then slid along your sides, then hooked around your lower back. You hadn’t intended it, but the kiss was getting steamier with each passing moment. You felt his hot breath on your skin as he pulled back to adjust his position before crashing into you again.

As the fever settled down, Jungkook was the first to pull away, but only by a faction so he could speak. “I love you,” he whispered.

You stared wide-eyed at him, only inches away from you, eyes heavy-lidded and forehead resting just barely against yours. “O-Okay,” you said. It was all you could manage.

He chuckled once, still embracing you as he stood between your legs. “That’s it?”

“You expect me to say it back?” you asked.

He smiled, staring down at you. “I guess not.”

“You’re gonna have to give me some time,” you said with a nod.

He nodded too, shutting his eyes as he held you close. Slowly, he moved to rest his forehead against your shoulder, resting against the crook of your neck. “I understand.”

“Like…a lot of time probably.”

“I know.”

You let out a shaky exhale and only then did you realize your hands were shaking. As silly as it seemed, this reunion was pretty jarring to your system. The foundation on which you’d rebuilt your sense of self had broken down beneath your feet, leaving you to stand among the rubble once again. Just like back then. Everything you thought you understood had been proven wrong.

But nonetheless, you smoothed your palms against his back and rubbed gently. Not to comfort him, but to comfort yourself. To let yourself know that, even though it was scary, it was okay to trust people sometimes. Self preservation shouldn’t come at the sacrifice of human connection. And even though you knew the road ahead was going to be long and that trusting Jungkook again would take a long time and a lot of work on his end, you were ready to try.

So, as the two of you left the shop under one umbrella, you drafted a text.

You: Sua, I have SO MUCH to tell you.

[capsicletho]

#1 Why are we at a strip club?

Night missions will go smoothly and without any problems, right? 

Word count: 856

Author: @chrixa

Thank you for the request, @ashleykh! I hope you’ll like it. 

So, here’s what I have on the situation. We were on a night mission in which my partners are Peter Parker, Tony Stark (because he insists that he needs to keep an eye on both of his beloved and lovely “Avengers in training”) and Natasha Romanoff. But for some annoying reason which is mainly Hydra agents, we got separated so now I’m stuck with Peter. 

“Uh, Mr. Stark? Nat? Anyone on comms?” Peter pressed his finger to his right ear and grunts when he heard nothing but static. “Great, comms are down,” he sighs and sits across from me in the dark. 

I’m already sitting down since we got stuck in this dark and mysterious alley because somehow I got my left thigh grazed by a bullet. It’s not that bad, but it’s nothing pleasant either. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N, it’s my fault we got separated.”

“It’s fine, Parker,” I manage to say before wincing when I tried to move my position. 

“Are you hurt?” He scoots beside me and search for a wound in the dark, yet he managed to find it. I didn’t even ask how. 

“I’ll be okay.”

“Do you need anything?” He’s really worried I almost feel bad for him. Almost. 

“Beside getting out of here? Uh, pizza?” I attempt to get a small laugh from him and I did. 

“Right, pizza,” he chuckles. 

“Can’t you find some way out with your enhanced eyesight? Try some heat sensors maybe?” 

“Why didn’t I think about it before?” He mumbles under his breath and stands up, looking around. “Okay, suit lady, activate heat sensors? Woah, awesome!”

“What’s awesome?” I try to stand up with the help of the brick wall. Thanks, brick wall. 

“There are a lot of heat signatures down this alley! I’m gonna go check it out, stay here, Y/N!” He says, full of excitement.

“Yeah and leave me alone in the dark, wounded? I don’t think so, Parker.” 

“But you’re hurt.”

“I can walk, I’m fine. Let’s go.” He stands next to me and swings my arm around his shoulder. “Thanks,” I smile although I’m not sure he can see it. 

We walk silently in the dark, with the exception of my grunting and wincing and Peter’s ‘it’s okay’s and ‘I got you’s. Well, probably not that silent of a walk. Anyway. 

“Is there a door?” I unwrap my arm from him and lean against the wall while he checks for some kind of door. “It’s really loud in there, huh?” 

“Yeah, some kind of bar maybe?” He shrugs. “Oh, here’s the door. C’mon, Y/N, after you.” 

“Uh, Parker?” No answer. “Peter?”

“What’s wro- Okay...”

“Why are we at a strip club?” I can’t bring myself to look a him because I don’t even know what to do. 

“I- I, uh, I’m- Let’s just get outside.”

“I can’t believe we’re at a strip club,” I say only loud enough for him to hear. He’s now carrying me bridal style because apparently I planted myself on the ground and was unable to move. 

“Me neither,” he says as he pushes us in between topless bodies and skin tight dresses because holy cow is this place crowded as hell. He keeps on saying ‘excuse me’s and ‘sorry’s even though I know people won’t even hear us over the deafening music. 

“Okay, we’re outside now, we’re alive.” He places me down on the pavement but still holds on to me. “Are you all right, Y/N? I’m sorry you had to go through that I had no idea what that place was and I panicked and I-”

“Hey, Peter, I’m fine, okay?” I place my hands on the either side of his head and smile. “Calm down, alright? We’re gonna be fine.” 

He takes a deep breath and sigh, “Alright, okay, sorry.” 

“Let’s just get back to the tower.” 

“Okay,” he picks me back up again.

“And, Peter?”

“Yeah?”

“Let’s not mention this to anyone.”

He laughs and before shooting his web I heard him agree.

request here | prompt list

[tonydadisbestdad]

More than an Idol

Dad!Tony

Peter ParkerxReader

Word Count: 2814

Summary: You’re dating Peter and he talks you up to Tony and he wants to meet you and then you find out something you never thought was possible.

A/N: HOLY COW. I’m tired of this writer's block and this is shitty but here you go. I promise I’m not going to write another single thing until I get a request done. You know who you are and I am sorry I am taking so long. Anyways, here’s this for now. Enjoy!

Up until you were in high school you lived a rather sheltered life. It was you and your mother against the world. She trusted no one with you. You were her pride and joy, her little genius. You were her carbon copy in every way, except for one. When it came to your mind; your intellect, the way you acted, and how you did things, you were nothing like her.

You never even thought about those differences or what they might mean.

The only big difference you ever noticed was that your mother absolutely hated Tony Stark, but you, you loved him. You wanted nothing more than for him to notice your potential, but that was impossible since you were never given the opportunity to be seen. It was hard when you were homeschooled.

So, you nagged and nagged your mother’s ears off until she finally agreed that for high school, you could go to a real school instead.

That was where Peter came in. You met your first day. He was absolutely precious and he was always so excited about things, especially when you both started talking shop. You’d spend hours and hours talking sometimes. That wasn’t even the best part of it though, you both ended up falling hard for the other.

You never thought you’d find someone you’d enjoy this much. You never had the influence that this type of relationship really existed outside of movies and shows. Your mother never spoke a word of your father to you, nor did she date anyone, ever. So, the fact that you were experiencing something like this freaked you out.

But oh was it a wonderful thing that was beginning to happen.

Then Peter started to get weird with you, everyone, you thought it was because of you. Of course, you quickly figure him out. The small things that kept happening. The sudden disappearances all the time when something was going wrong. Then there were some notes he’d accidently left out one night when you were over studying.

You ended up fixing something for him, noticing something wasn’t right with it. He either hadn’t noticed, or never wanted to say something about it. But you figured out it was for webshooters, specifically the kind the new spider hero guy was using.

You fully confirmed your suspicions when he told you a guy named Steve punched him, giving him the bruise on his face after he had disappeared for a few days.

You were sitting on his bed and he was at his desk, leaning back in his chair. You didn’t even hesitate nor look up from your homework. “You let Captain America land a hit on you?”

The thud of Peter hitting the floor had you looking up.

“Are you alright?” You asked.

“Wh-what?” Peter asked, getting to his feet. “What did you say?”

You rolled your eyes at his dramatics. “I’m just surprised that Captain America hit you hard enough to bruise you. You haven’t really had so much as a scratch since you got these powers of yours.”

Surprise was written all over his face. “P-powers? I-I have no clue what you’re talking about. I don’t have powers, a-and it was just some guy, like Captain America would have a reason to hit me, psssh.”

All you had to do was arch a brow at him.

“When did you figure it out?” He asked, defeated.

“Right after you made your big debut. Next time you don’t want me to know about something, maybe try not leaving some bad schematics around for me to find and fix.” You chuckled.

However currently, Peter said he has a surprise for you.

“Come on, Peter. Where are we going?” You asked, he had blindfolded you, what felt like three blocks ago and you were baffled as to where he might be taking you. “Did you really have to blindfold me?

“We’re almost there,” He assured, tugging you along. “Can’t a guy surprise his super smart girlfriend without her deducing where he’s taking her?”

You didn’t answer because the sound of the busy New York streets got quiet and the concrete under your shoes changed and you knew you had arrived at your destination.

“Yet?” You asked, you were much too eager, Peter never did stuff like this.

Peter ignored you and kept moving.

When he reached up and pulled it off, you found yourself in an elevator. You looked at him, more confused than when he told you to put the blindfold on.

“Don’t freak out,” He said.

You quickly looked for a reason as to why you might freak out, elevators weren’t exactly your thing, so your first thought was something was wrong. But then you caught sight of the touch screen panel by the door. Your eyes could have popped out of your head. The distinct Stark logo was at the top of the screen.

“So, I may have told Mr. Stark some things about you… and he wants to meet you.”

You couldn’t breathe.

Peter scratched the back of his head. “Surprise.”

You grabbed the front of his shirt and kissed him. This was finally your chance, you were never going to be able to repay him. You pulled away and couldn’t contain your smile. “I can’t believe you did this.”

He smiled back goofily. “Yeah, well I know how much you look up to him, so I figured I’d put in a good word.”

When the elevator doors started to open, it really hit you. This was real, it was happening. You quickly pressed the close doors button.

Peter frowned at you. “Hey-”

“I can’t do this!” You whisper yelled at him. “Are you crazy? I can’t actually meet this man! I’m not ready for this!”

Warm hands cupped your cheeks. “Yes, you can. It’s going to be great. I promise he’s a really chill guy once you get used to him. Take a deep breathe, because I’m not letting you back out of this.” He didn’t hesitate to press the button to open the doors. He slid his hand into yours and pulled you out of the elevator into Tony’s lab.

The music was loud, it lowered as a voice spoke over it. “Mr. Stark, Mr. Parker and his guest have arrived.”

You swallowed at the lump in your throat, your hands shook, you were a mess on the inside.

Peter guided you through the lab, the music stayed quiet.

“Back here, Parker,” Tony called. His back was to the two of you.

Peter offered you a reassuring smile. “Hey, Mr. Stark,” He greeted.

The man turned around.

You couldn’t stop the nervous smile forming on your face. It was wiped away as Tony dropped the device he was working on when he looked at you.

It was almost like he had seen a ghost. He froze up for a moment before looking at Peter. He grabbed Peter by the shoulder and pulled him away. He held a finger up to you, as if silently stating they’d be right back.

You stood there shell shocked as your idol pulled your boyfriend out of the lab.

“Um, M-Mr. Stark, are you okay?” Peter asked. He looked back at the door he had just been shoved through, hoping you were okay.

“What did you say her name is again?” Tony asked, rubbing his hand with the other.

“Y/N,” Peter answered.

“No, Parker, her full name.” Tony corrected.

Peter was really frowning at him now. “Why? Does it matter? Do you know her or something?”

“Just tell me her last name, Peter.” Tony said, quickly. He was beyond freaked.

Peter ran a hand through his hair in confusion. “Y/L/N.”

Tony swallowed, thickly. “A-and she’s how old?”

“She’s the same age as me, Mr. Stark. Why is this important?” Peter’s face scrunched up. “Ew, nevermind gonna pretend I didn’t have that thought.”

Tony scowled at him, “I’m going to pretend you didn’t either.” He sighed and rubbed at his forehead. “What’s her mother’s name?”

“Y/Moms/N,” Peter told him. “Couldn’t you just look her up like you do with everyone?”

He couldn’t believe this. Out of everyone in the world, let alone just this city, Peter had to pick the worst person to be his girlfriend, to bring here. “I don’t need to…”

“Well yeah you just asked me a bunch of questions.” Peter answered. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on, but like she’s wanted to meet you for forever and she’s kinda alone in your lab and really likes to get into things, so we should probably get back in there.”

“No, no, no, no, no, I’m not going back in there. Tell her something came up. I’m leaving.” He stated, turning to go up the stairs that were behind him.

Peter’s eyes widened. “What? What do you mean? Why?”

“Can’t talk right now, Peter.” He said, not stopping.

Peter threw his hands up in exasperation.

“Get me a strand of her hair!” Tony called down the steps before leaving.

Now Peter was even more confused. He turned back to the door and went into the lab.

“This thing’s awesome,” You said, you were kneeling in front of the device Mr. Stark had dropped moments before.

Peter smiled lovingly at you. “I bet… so um look… Mr. Stark’s having a meltdown I guess… mind if we reschedule this?”

You frowned but nodded. “Yeah, I hope he’s okay. Do you want to go check on him?”

Peter shook his head and wrapped his arm around your back once you stood. “He’ll be alright.” He guided you back the way you came. He knew he’d have to get answers from Mr. Stark and soon.

Curious as to why Tony wanted a strand of your hair, Peter brought him one the following afternoon. Luckily he didn’t have to pluck it from your head, you spent so much time together he was constantly pulling your hair from his clothing.

“Before I just hand this over, why do you need it?” Peter asked.

Tony had yet to calm down. “No, I’m not telling you. If I’m right about something, then maybe I’ll tell you. I just hope I’m not right.”

Peter sighed and gave the strand over to him.

Tony left him with some work to do. He was gone the entire time Peter worked.

When it was finally time to go home, Peter had to hunt him down.

He was sitting in his livingroom, in the dark, nursing a drink.

“Uh, Mr. Stark,” Peter started.

Tony looked up at him. “Oh, you’re still here?”

“Yeah,” Peter answered. “What’s going on that you aren’t telling me?”

He was silent for a moment in thought. He was unsure of how to word it or if he wanted to word it at all. Finally he settled. “Peter, you’re… you’re dating my daughter…”

Peter laughed, “No, seriously come on, what’s wrong.”

The look Tony sent up to him was one you couldn’t fake.

Peter’s laughter cut off. “What? How?”

“Long story,” Tony answered, finishing off his drink.

“You’re serious?” Peter asked in disbelief.

Tony motioned to the papers sitting on the table in front of him. He wanted them in a solid form, he needed it to be real.

Peter read them over, they were without a doubt truth. “Oh man… s-sir what are we going to do? I have to tell her! This is huge!”

“No,” Tony said, quickly. “No, she can’t know. Don’t bring her back here, understand? I-I can’t be apart of that.”

Peter argued with him for half an hour before he convinced Tony that he had to tell you. Forget about all the circumstances before, this was important and you deserved to know.

Tony sat at his kitchen island the next morning, waiting. When F.R.I.D.A.Y. announced your and Peter’s arrival, he winced. He was not ready to talk to you about this.

“Morning,” Peter greeted, entering the kitchen, you right beside him.

Tony swallowed the lump in his throat as he looked you over. “God, you look just like her,” he mumbled.

Peter smacked his forehead.

You frowned and looked between them. “What’s going on?”

“She really never told you,” Tony asked.

“Sir, I’m sorry, I am very lost. Can one of you please tell me what you’re talking about?”

Tony sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Why did you want to meet me so bad?” He found himself asking.

You shoved some stray hair behind your ear. “You’re my idol. I look up to you. I-I aspire to be like you, in some ways, and honestly, better than you in others. But I wanted to meet you because I think you’re amazing. Now, can you please answer my question? Because I know something is going on and I need to know what it is.”

Tony nodded. He looked down at the papers sitting on the counter beside him. He picked them up and looked over them for the nth time. “Before I just go off on a tangent, or upset you somehow, I need you to know I’m not the one that kept this from you.”

You were really frowning at him now. “Sir, we just met, how could you be keeping something from me?”

“I wasn’t, your mother is.” Tony answered. He passed the papers over to you with hesitant hands.

You read them over, then read them again. You looked at him, in disbelief, then to Peter as if it was some kind of joke. “Real funny, Peter.”

Peter frowned at you. “It’s not a joke, I didn’t believe it at first either, but…”

You looked back at Tony.

The man sighed. “The truth is… Your mom told me she might be pregnant and I told her I didn’t think I was ready for that.” He started, unable to look at you. “I didn’t mean for her to take it as I wanted her to go… but that’s what she did. She left and never came back. I tried to find her but she didn’t want to be found. So, I moved on. She never tried to contact me, I figured if she did have a kid, then maybe someday… but I didn’t think it would be this way. I’m sorry.”

Tears filled your eyes. You weren’t even sure why, was it from the frustration, your anger, the hurt you felt for what the man in front of you must be feeling right now? You knew it was all of it. You couldn’t believe your mother. She hadn’t even tried to give him a chance. Sure he might not have exactly been happy about it, but she just dropped off the face of the earth. You finally realized why she hated him so much, why she didn’t like your obsession with him.

You had always felt drawn to him, since the first time you heard about him. The smart man that from such a young age could do incredible things with his brain, much like you could. You weren’t the only one in the world that was smarter than everyone else you spoke to. Now, you knew it was because he had given you that ability. If he wasn’t your father, you wouldn’t be the way that you are.

“I-I’m so sorry,” You said. “I-I never knew… I’m sorry you had to find out this way.”

“It’s not your fault. I don’t blame your mom either,” Tony admitted. “She knew I wouldn’t make a good parent, that’s why she left.”

“Mr. Stark,” Peter started. “I don’t think that’s true. I think, no I know you make a great dad…”

Tony couldn’t help the small smile that creeped up half his lips. “Thanks, Peter.”

“So, what now?” You asked.

Neither man answered you.

You let out an exasperated sigh. “Okay then, since nobody has a clue, how about we start with lunch? I’m starving.”

Peter rolled his eyes.

You earned a soft chuckle from your dad, you smiled to yourself. You could probably get away with calling him that, right? It was weird, but exhilarating.

Tony stood. “Where do you guys wanna eat?”

You smiled and followed him back to the elevator with Peter. You wrapped yourself around Peter’s arm and smiled up at him. “This is amazing.”

Peter smiled back at you. “I’m glad you’re happy about it, I was scared you’d have a melt down.”

“Oh no, that’ll come later when I talk to my mom. For now, let’s go get to know my dad.”

Tony smiled at both of you. He hadn’t ever noticed that he felt like he was missing something in life until that moment. He’d never really thought much about having kids after your mother left him. But now that you were here, he knew he had really missed out. He couldn’t wait to get to know you now.

@buckysendoftheline

[evenstevensranked]

#48: Season 2, Episode 8 - “Head Games”

Twitty becomes the star pitcher of LJH’s baseball team! He’s loving it until Louis starts to put pressure on him to win all the time. Elsewhere, Ren tries to sit next to Bobby Deaver on the bus come hell or high water.

But, I’m pretty sure the one thing everyone remembers from this episode is:

(^ I cannot find the source of that gif for the life of me. So, if it’s yours... I’m sorry. Tell me and I’ll credit you!)

This one opens at the baseball field! Kinda refreshing. And guess who the announcer is?! It’s ARTIE RYAN!!! Played by Jerry Messing from Freaks and Geeks. This marks his first appearance in my countdown! He’s basically this overweight and sort of apathetic character, who dishes out some hilariously dry humor. He’s unfortunately only in five episodes over the course of the series. Then again, maybe that’s a good thing. It’s never fun when a character actor is overused and subsequently goes stale... (*cough* Beans *cough*) 

What a guy!

LJH isn’t doing too hot with the current pitcher they have out on the mound. Louis is there with a radar gun, checking the pitcher’s speed and hanging around Coach Tugnut. When Tugnut asks where he got the radar gun Louis says: “Got it at a police auction. I would’ve got the jaws of life, it just didn’t fit on my bike.” He also rags on the pitcher saying “My grandma can throw a ball of yarn faster.” Idk why, but I kind of like these lines. They’re clearly pre-written and therefore feel a little cheesy as opposed to some gems we get from Shia improvising. But, there aren’t many other stand-out lines in this one. So, they’ll have to suffice. This pitcher really is doing a crap job though, so they switch him out for Twitty. Something that stands out to me is that Twitty is chilling in the dugout prior to this reading some giant book? Like? Is that supposed to be a joke? It just seems out of character. He should be sitting there — not paying attention, listening to music on his headphones and playing air-guitar or something. Not reading freaking War and Peace.

So... I looked closely. That is a fictional book called “The Brains of Men and Women.” What the heck.

Twitty gets up to pitch for the first time that season and rox everyone’s sox off. (Yeah, I said that.) His stellar performance helps lead LJH to a victory! Artie initially introduced him by saying “Alan throws right, bats left, and lives around the corner from Del’s Pizzeria” which is fantastic. Fun fact: Just because I’m weird, I decided to look up Del’s Pizzeria… and it’s a real family owned and operated restaurant that opened in 1973! AND it’s actually in California! Granted, it’s 4 hours outside of Sacramento… so, if we’re thinking within the shows universe - that’d be a bit of a commute every day for a middle schooler lol. BUT STILL!!! I bet one of the writers or someone involved actually lived around there. Little things like that make me happy.  

Ren and Bobby talk in the hallway and it’s extremely awkward. Ren brings up Canada and how their system of government is similar to America’s. I can’t. To be fair, they haven’t become “official” yet. That actually happens in the following episode! But, I honestly think Ren and Bobby are so uncomfortable to watch sometimes because they simply don’t belong togetherrrrr! (I think I’ve made it clear who I prefer for her.) Well.. that, and they’re in Junior High. Everything about middle school relationships is awkward and I gotta admit again that the Ren/Bobby stuff portrays that pretty accurately. Ruby tells Ren to not say a word the next time they talk and let Bobby take control. Kinda awful advice and gives me Poor Unfortunate Souls vibes… but ok. It works, though! Bobby invites Ren to sit next to him on the bus for their upcoming field trip. Something that bothered me: Ren’s so excited about the invitation that she moves a guy away from his locker to scream into it. The only issue is that it’s HER LOCKER. There’s a crapton of other lockers the extra could’ve used!!

Her locker seen in Season 1. 

The “random guy’s” locker she screamed into. 

Twitty’s super happy about pitching so well. He’s the new star player! Tawny asks “Twitty, how does it feel to be the new sports hero? I mean, not that I’m into sports or anything. I actually find it to be a waste of the human spirit.” I relate to that so much, tbh. But, yeah. It’s all fine and dandy until Louis starts telling Twitty that everything’s different now. That the entire school is counting on him to win all of their games. And here we get one of the most iconic lines of the whole series. Louis explains, “You’re the closer, the man! THE BIG POPPA WITH THE BIG MOPPA!!!!!” (the first gif.) I was so unsure of where to rank this episode, solely because of how memorable this line is. But, one great line doesn’t exactly save this episode from being a little flat otherwise. I had my mom watch it with me today for an outside opinion and she was like “Dang, this one is boring.” Sooo. Yeah.

Anyway, Louis really gets inside Twitty’s head and he starts freaking out during their next game. He’s sweating like a pig and can’t think straight. We see Twitty imagine Louis’ face on the baseball he’s holding, repeating the Big Poppa line. It’s honestly so hilarious seeing Shia’s face on a baseball like that I really cannot handle it. It’s something else that made me want to rank this higher.

Twitty took drugs before this game, right? 

Twitty pitches terribly and throws the ball pretty much everywhere but over the plate. He hits the peanut guy and Artie yells, “Oh! Right in the peanuts! That’s gotta hurt.” — A little cringy. But, Artie said it.. so, it’s ok. He also exclaims “Holy cow! Someone get me a hard hat!” when one of Twitty’s awful pitches knocks over the announcement speakers. I love it. LJH loses 29 to 2. Twitty blames Louis. After this, he starts choking at everyday things! Like pouring milk and putting on deodorant. Tawny and Louis go over to Twitty’s and try to snap him out of it. This is the one time ever in all 65 episodes that we get to see Twitty’s room! It’s on-point with his character, too. Kinda stoner-y, sporty, music-y, but also messy like a slightly neater version of Louis’ room. I like that they actually put thought into how it should look. When Tawny and Louis walk in, Twitty is lying on his bed all depressed. Louis tries to motivate him by screaming and clapping “Ya gotta get up! You got a game this afternoon. UP AND AT ‘EM! Up, up, up! Come on! Let’s get UP!” As if that’s gonna help someone who’s depressed. I love Shia so much.

The two try to help Twitty by giving him jellybeans when he thinks positively about pitching, and forcing him to smell Louis’ dirty socks when he has negative thoughts. At one point Tawny refers to the mound as “that stupid hill thingy.” I relate to her so much this episode. Their plan doesn’t work, so they call in Donnie for help. I really like Donnie. They bring him to Twitty’s room blindfolded and when they take it off he asks “…..where’s the surprise party?!” He’s so innocently dumb. It’s great. Once they fill him in on the situation, he recommends that Twitty relaxes at Big Al’s Spa — a place that once helped relieve him of sport-related stress.

Twitty’s room! (Guitars and surfboards not pictured, lol.)

There’s a 5 second bit I always liked where Louis grabs and eats a jellybean from Tawny and she just gives him this side eye. They’re so cute.

Nelson once again starts screwing things up for Ren. He sits next to her on the bus because according to his mother (and his hypochondria) that seat is the safest and he wants to live. He refuses to move. Wow. But, Ruby ain’t having it. She rearranges the ENTIRE BUS SEAT SCHEDULE in an elaborate plan just to ensure that Ren and Bobby sit together. 

What an inconvenience. 

The first time, something goes wrong and Ruby ends up next to Ren. This pisses me off. WHY COULDN’T SHE JUST SWITCH SEATS WITH BOBBY AFTER THAT?! It’s a very obvious and simple solution. But, no.. they just sit there looking at each other across the bus like “ugh, this is so difficult!1! This is like an impossible algebra problem… how will we ever solve it?! We’re worlds apart! :(“ 

So, instead of switching with Bobby.. She makes the entire bus swap seats again. Oh my god. This time Nelson ends up next to Ren, and Ruby ends up next to Bobby! SHE COULD EASILY JUST SWITCH SEATS WITH REN THIS TIME! But, they just helplessly stare at each other again. Seriously, how difficult is this?! Why couldn’t Ruby get it correct?! 

Thankfully, Nelson actually does something right and gets the brilliant idea to switch seats with Bobby! Wow! Genius! You could’ve done that the first time and saved everyone all the trouble. Jesus. So, yeah. Bobby and Ren get to sit together and they both admit that they get nervous around each other. Which is kind of cute I guess. Then Bobby says he “feels like a little kid again” because he used to get carsick when he was young. He proceeds to throw up into a backpack, lol. This guy is seriously not ~all that.~ Idk what Ren sees in him. He is literally so strange. Classically good looking, maybe. But there’s something off about his character. That’s the end of the subplot.

Twitty, Louis, Tawny and Donnie roll up to Big Al’s Spa and discover that it’s run down now and literally just a mud pit. You’re supposed to relax in the mud as if it’s a hot tub. No, thanks. Twitty really does not want to bathe in dirt either. But Louis says “Twitty, Donnie drove 50 miles… I’m spending $15… YOU’RE GETTIN’ IN THE STINKIN’ MUD!” I just love Shia’s shouty voice. Twitty gets in and they leave him there for an hour. He ends up taking a nap and wakes up super relaxed and refreshed… unfortunately, the mud hardened and he’s stuck.

I love Tawny’s outfit. I would wear that, honestly. I live in my Docs. Tawny is just me today. 

When Louis, Tawny and Donnie come back for him.. Twitty freaks out. He starts screaming “I’m trapped! I’m gonna be trapped here forever! And then I’m never gonna get to see my grandchildren!” Uh, Twitty… I’d be worried about not having your own kids first. It’s pretty funny, though. Twitty takes his anger and frustration out at Louis and yells “I swear to Bob, when I get out of here I’m gonna beat you up for a week!” …Excuse me? “I swear to Bob?!” Who is Bob??? Bob Marley? Bob the Builder? Bob Saget?!?! I mean really, “SWEAR TO BOB”?!?!?! Clearly, I’m assuming Disney can’t say “swear to god.” But, wow. They should’ve had him say something else in that case, because “swear to Bob” just sounds stupid.

Obviously, they’re able to dig Twitty out! As soon as he’s free, he starts throwing mud balls at Louis who hides behind a barrel that just so happens to have a target on it. Without noticing, Twitty hits the bullseye every time. In order to focus that anger during games, they put a picture of Louis inside the Catcher’s glove, haha. Hey, it works though! And according to Artie Ryan, “The Twitty-meister is back.”

It ends with Coach Tugnut relaxing at Big Al’s Spa, per Louis’ recommendation… Except he’s stuck in the hardened mud with no one to dig him out. Oops.

The end!

Like I said last week.. Season 2 is just kinda there. Episodes like this and the other Season 2 episodes that I’ve ranked already are examples of what I mean. There’s just a strange amount of slower, more forgettable episodes imo. Although “The big poppa with the big moppa” definitely helps this one stand out in people’s memories, I think. This one is also a Twitty plot basically! Which is kinda cool! But, ya know.. The show is called Even Stevens and he’s not a Stevens. So the episode as a whole feels a little off because of that. And Ren’s subplot is okay here. I definitely relate to wanting to sit next to your crush on the bus. Again, a very realistic Junior High situation. But, I swear to Bob… (whoever he is) the unnecessary seat rearranging gets on my last nerve!!!

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