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mochegato · 3 years ago

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Even the Losers

Chapter 17

Chapter 1 Chapter 16

Marinette shook her head and tried to hide her giggles. Red Robin had to have thought he was being discrete, right? Unless he was intentionally making himself known as a way to intimidate any more rogues from trying to get to her. He was discrete enough that the average person probably wouldn’t notice him, but anyone paying attention, looking for him, would see him easily.

She waited until he was looking down at her again and waved at him. He smiled and waved back before blushing, shaking his head, and motioning for her to continue. Marinette grinned and looked back at the map on her phone. The restaurant Jason chose was around here somewhere. One of the places he just ended up at a lot, he said. Low key and cozy, exactly the kind of place she needed right now.

After that, he said he was planning on following her around for the rest of the day. He’d said it in a joking tone, but she knew there was nothing joking about his intent. He would be shadowing her for the rest of the day. He couldn’t hide the gravity behind the statement. He couldn’t mask the concerned questions, no matter how casually he tried to play them off. The insistence on seeing her apartment, make sure the view was good enough and the kitchen was stocked enough. The way he casually suggested she teach him how to make a baked good she liked.

Honestly, she was shocked he let her walk there on her own, but he said he’d be have eyes on her anyway. She looked back up at Red Robin with a smile. Clearly, he wasn’t kidding. White lensed eyes. The smile quickly morphed into a frown when she couldn’t see him. He hadn’t been hidden this whole time, so where was he now? She squeaked and whirled around into a fighting stance when she heard someone land behind her. She barely had time to put her hands down before Red Robin was standing next to her, his hand on her shoulder while he looked around, eyes sharp and calculating.

Marinette followed his lead and scanned the crowd. In lieu of knowing what she was looking for, she kept her eye out for anything that seemed out of place. Everything looked normal though. Nothing seemed suspicious. There were a few people throwing them odd looks, but nothing that seemed hostile or calculating, instead it seemed more curious and fearful of what having a vigilante dropping down in the middle of the night meant for them.

Red Robin turned back to face her. “Let’s get you somepl…” his hand went up to his ear. “Shit!”

Marinette’s eyes widened in fear. “What happened? Did someone get hurt?”

Red Robin’s eyes looked around them again and narrowed at one of the buildings. He moved his arm to her back and firmly pushed her toward the building. “Nobody is hurt.”

She looked at him doubtfully. “But…”

“There’s just an issue that needs attention, but nobody has been hurt,” he assured her, looking down briefly to meet her eyes.

Marinette nodded uncertainly, not feeling calmer with his reassurance. She couldn’t see his eyes past the white filters to gauge his sincerity, and it was unsettling. “So my friend and brother, my… the Waynes, they’re… nobody is hurt?”

Red Robin paused almost imperceptibly. If she hadn’t become used to his constant pressure on her back, she wouldn’t have noticed. He looked back down at her as they walked, the tense muscles in his face softened considerably. “They’re all safe. Your friend and brother and family. They’re all safe. I promise. I just need to go assist someone, but I don’t want to leave you alone.”

Marinette raised an eyebrow at him. “I can defend myself you know.”

Red Robin gave her a deadpan expression. She’s sure if he didn’t have a mask, he’d have his own eyebrow raised at her. “After last night, you can understand that we and your family are a bit concerned and perhaps a bit overprotective just right now.”

Marinette rolled her eyes with a sigh but didn’t fight him. “So you’re going to, what? Hide me in some abandoned office until everything blows over? That sounds safe.”

Red Robin huffed out a laugh. “Absolutely safe. That is our standard approach. I’m glad you understand how we operate.” He gave her a look she couldn’t quite decipher with his mask in the way. “No. I think your family would hunt me down if I did something so reckless with you. They’re quite protective, you know?”

Marinette opened her mouth to say something but shut it quickly. He was a stranger. There was absolutely no reason to get into her family dynamics with him. “No,” he continued, oblivious to her uncertainty. “I’m going to stash you with someone we know we can trust.”

Marinette looked up at him with narrowed eyes. “A babysitter.”

The corners of Red Robin’s mouth quirked up. “Well, if you’re going to whine like a baby…” he teased.

Marinette gasped dramatically. “If you want whining, I can show you whining. I grew up with the most spoiled brat in existence. I can give new meaning to the word.” Red Robin actually laughed as he opened the door to the business. “You know, I’m supposed to meet my… um… br… brother,” she stuttered over the word. “Jason’s going to wonder about me.”

Red Robin cringed slightly. “You should probably text him. It isn’t a good idea for you to go out until this is resolved.” Marinette nodded and shot a text off to Jason letting him know she was okay and Red Robin was putting her somewhere safe for a bit.

They heard movement from the building, finally drawing Marinette’s attention to the business they had gone into. “Can I help… T… Red Robin? Marinette?” Roy asked pushing out from behind a motorcycle with its transmission in his hands.

“Hey, I was hoping you could watch Marinette while I take care of something. You’re a friend with the Waynes right?” Red Robin asked pointedly.

Roy stared at him for a few seconds before realization set in. “Yeah. Yeah, we’re like fam…” he looked over to Marinette, “well, not family family. But, uh, yeah.”

Red Robin cocked his head to the side and pursed his lips. “No, I’m pretty sure you are con…” he was cut off by something in his com. He paused for a moment to listen before turning back to Roy with what Marinette was pretty sure was supposed to be a glare. “I’m trusting you,” he growled. “There’s some madness going on.”

Roy’s face turned serious and he gave him a determined nod. “I’ll protect her. Go.”

Red Robin looked between them for a second then nodded and took off. Roy and Marinette watched him leave for a second before turning back to each other. Marinette gave him a shy smile. “Hi,” she waved sheepishly. “Sorry to just drop in on you like this.”

Roy gave her a welcoming smile and motioned to the garage bay. “Not at all. I guess you’re just visiting sooner than we anticipated. Can’t say I’m upset at all.” He moved some parts off of a stool and motioned toward it for her to sit. “I should say sorry that you have to hunker down here. You definitely look like you were going somewhere a bit nicer.”

Marinette looked down at her outfit analytically, a blood red, long-sleeved blouse, black skinny jeans, and black heeled boots. She’d wanted to wear ladybug colors after the previous night in the Riddler’s facility and the Wayne dining room. Ladybug colors always reminded her of the strongest, most resilient parts of herself. She looked back up at him, her eyes catching on the coat rack behind him. “Excuse you. All I need is that jacked over there and I’d fit right in. In fact, I’d match your baby.”

Roy looked to where she was looking, seeing his black leather jacket hanging up. He blushed slightly at the idea of her wearing his jacket. He could picture it on her, the jacket hanging loosely off of her significantly smaller frame, her clinging to him as they rode on his bike… He looked back at her with a soft look. “And you would still be too classy to be here.”

Marinette pouted at him. “You say that like I don’t fit in.” She didn’t want to say the ‘with you’ that was running through her head. Did he think she wouldn’t fit with him? “I can fit. I can even be helpful.”

Roy shook his head. “No, not at all just…” He motioned to his own clothes, an old tee, stained jeans, and a backwards ball cap that was just as stained with grease as his jeans, and then motioned to her.

Marinette looked between the two of them and grinned. “You underestimate my ability to get dirty. Give me a few minutes and I’ll be as dirty as you.”

Roy’s eyes snapped to the wrench in his hand. Based on the complete lack of amusement or sultriness in her eyes, she did not at all realize what she just said. He took a few seconds, it may have been minutes, to calm his heart and mind. “Okay, how about you prove it?”

Marinette raised an eyebrow at him. “Prove what?”

“That you can be helpful. Roll up those sleeves and help me with this engine.” He motioned to the transmission on the workbench next to her. “I can also get you some coveralls so your outfit won’t get dirty if you prefer.” He looked back at her with an amused glint in his eyes. “They’ll be a bit big on you…” Marinette narrowed her eyes at him but his eyes danced with even more amusement at her reaction. “Since you’re so litt…”

“You know what…” she cut him off, standing to get in his personal space. She stared up at him, her eyes meeting his for a moment before her cheeks burst into color. She looked away and cleared her throat. After a second to recover, she motioned to the transmission as she rolled up her sleeves. “Just tell me what you’re doing and how I can help.”

Roy grinned and twirled the wrench in his hand. “Yes, ma’am.”

He leaned over the transmission and started loosening one of the nuts holding the piece together. His hand faltered for a fraction of a second when Marinette leaned next to him, close enough for him to feel her breath as she let out a sigh, close enough to feel her body heat. Close enough he could easily wrap his arms around her and pull her against him. He had to tighten his hands to keep them from reaching over.

He took a breath to focus. Now was not the time. She had just been kidnapped and people could take a bit of time to recover from something like that, especially considering the things she had said about having a breakdown. He flicked his eyes over to her trying to assess how she was doing. Her eyes were intently watching his hands as they moved around the transmission. They were sharp and her body seemed to be relaxing the longer she watched him work. If he didn’t know better, he’d never know she had been kidnapped and threatened the night before.

She looked up at him questioningly when his hands stilled as he analyzed her. He gave her a small smile and motioned toward the tool box. “Um… I need… Can you, um, get me the, um… 5/16th wrench, please?” he stuttered.

Marinette jumped up to search through the wrenches in the box. She frowned, her lip jutting out as she searched. “I don’t see it here. Is there somewhere else it could be?”

Roy’s face scrunched as he tried to remember where else he might have used it. He’d been working on the bike almost all day. He looked back at the motorcycle trying to remember what he had done with it. He was broken from his concentration by Marinette’s light giggle. He looked over to her with a raised brow.

Marinette looked away quickly, another blush on her cheeks. She followed where his line of sight had been and searched around the motorcycle, focusing her energy on her search for the wrench instead of the adorable face he made when he was concentrating and the way his nose wrinkled up in thought and his lips quirked to the side. After a minute of looking she shook her head and held her empty hands out for him to see.

“Any other ideas?” she asked as she came back over to her stool.

Roy sighed deeply and scanned the workbench. He had a backup set of wrenches, but he knew he had used that one recently. It couldn’t have gone too far. His attention was brought back to Marinette when she giggled again, her giggles turning into full blown laughter. He gave her a confused look which made her laugh louder. She reached over the workbench, almost climbing onto it to grab the wrench that was behind the transmission. She held the wrench out to him triumphantly with a smug, teasing smile on her lips.

Roy fought choking on air at the sight of her climbing onto his workbench and all the images that immediately flooded into his mind involving that particular scenario, especially in his jacket… and nothing else. He took the wrench, hoping she believed the blush he knew was on his cheek was from embarrassment rather than where his thoughts had gone. “Thanks,” he managed to mutter out.

“Anytime,” she grinned back. “See?” she motioned to herself. “Helpful.”

Roy chuckled and shook his head fondly. “Guess I’ll have to keep you around then.”

Marinette chuckled and let her focus settle back on the part he was working on. She watched his hands move effortlessly and confidently over the pieces. “Flathead screwdriver,” he asked, holding out his hand for her. She quickly grabbed one and slapped it in his hand like he was a surgeon. He looked up at her with a grin. “Thanks, nurse.”

Marinette shook her head and let her gaze pass over the garage bay. She quirked her head to the side when her eyes settled on a bow leaning up against the wall by the door. “What’s with the bow?”

Roy’s head jerked up. His eyes immediately found his bow and quiver. He looked back at her with an almost natural smile. “Oh, I just… like to shoot.”

“It’s yours?” she asked perking up.

“Yeah… I just pulled it out… recently.” His eyes flicked to the cut on her cheek quickly before returning to the transmission.

Marinette looked back at the bow. “That sounds fun. I always wanted to learn. How did you learn?”

Roy’s eyes took on a far off look and a sentimental smile spread on his lips. “My father, my adopted father.”

“Oliver?” Marinette asked, confusion clear in her voice as she tried to reconcile the sentimental smile with his description in the bar.

“Ah, so you know,” Roy said quietly, eyes suddenly in focus and pointed at the transmission.

Marinette gave him a sympathetic smile. “Sorry. Damian… he um… thought I knew,” she stuttered out. She really didn’t want to get into that conversation right now. She was sure Roy would be upset and it was just something she wanted to leave between her and Damian, not someone else. “He just mentioned it yesterday.”

Roy nodded and flicked his eyes up to her for a second, gauging her reaction, waiting for the questions. There were always questions. Questions about Oliver, questions about their relationship, questions about their money. The exact combination might change but they were always there. “Sorry for bringing it up,” she said quietly.

Roy shook his head, with a small smile. “No. It isn’t your fault. No not Oliver. It was before Oliver. My birth father died saving me from a forest fire and a man named Brave Bow adopted me. He raised me. He was a really good man. He taught me how to be a good person and how to shoot… and just about everything else I know.”

The smile on Roy’s face made Marinette smile too. “He sounds like a good father.”

Roy nodded. “He was,” he said quietly. He looked over at her hesitantly before focusing back on the piece he was working on. “How are you feeling?”

Marinette quirked her head to the side. “Feeling? Not as useful as I could be. A burden on you more than a help, if I’m being honest,” she shrugged.

Roy snorted. “Sorry, I’ll try to get you to do more of my work for me.” He sent her a smirk that got an eye roll out of her. “And I would never call you a burden. In fact, I’d fight to keep you nearby,” he added quietly, no longer meeting her eyes. He tried to focus on the transmission but he could feel her eyes on him, making it impossible to think of anything else.

After a few seconds he cleared his throat. “I mean after,” he motioned toward her face, his hand still grasping the gear he had just removed. “How are you handling it? The Riddler’s no joke.”

Marinette scoffed and picked up a wrench. She spun it in her hand as a distraction while she spoke. “He really isn’t. I didn’t find him funny at all.” Roy gave her a flat look and returned to working on the part, letting her decide to continue discussing it or not. “How did you know?” she asked quietly.

“He broadcast it to all Gotham. Everybody knows. Everybody saw you deliver the verbal smack down of the century,” he grinned at her. “It was inspiring. You were amazing.”

“I was pissed is what I was,” she grumbled. She looked away and sighed, running her hand over her face and grimacing when she accidentally touched her cut. “I forgot everyone would see that.”

She stared at the wrench as she twirled it in her hands. She knew the Waynes probably knew she was taken. She’d called Jason to let him know she was fine, but had pretended she had to go talk to the police and cut the call short. She really didn’t want to talk to them after the scene at dinner. She didn’t want to have the conversations she knew they were going to want to have. She just wanted to move on. It didn’t have anything to do with them, especially the kids. It was her past, one they had no way of knowing about and no way of helping with. There was no reason to hash through it all again.

But she hadn’t realized they would get to see the full video. She frowned at the thought. She’d said so much while she was yelling and she couldn’t remember what all she had said. It was a moment of weakness that now the entire city, possibly the world now knew about. Thankfully she was positive she didn’t mention anything about the miraculous so to anyone watching she would have looked like any other normal, non-miraculous wielding person.

And on top of it all, she wasn’t sure if she was grateful or upset that M. Wayne hadn’t reached out to see if she was alright. All of the kids had even Lucius had, but not him… or Alfred. After the way she left, he might not feel like he’s allowed to. But still… he hadn’t bothered to check on her at all.

She looked up with a weak smile. “Guess I’ve truly experienced Gotham now.”

Roy grimaced. “Sorry about that.” He watched her as she seemed to work through her feelings on the matter, going from annoyed to hurt. He returned his attention to the engine part. “I think I need to start calling you Fire Flower.”

Marinette looked up at him curiously. “Fire Flower?”

“Yeah,” he looked up briefly with a spark in his eyes. “It’s like a fire cracker, but cuter. More impressive to look at.” Marinette blushed and looked down, accidentally dropping the wrench she had been playing with. Roy grinned widely at her before focusing back on his work. “You sure you feel safe?” he asked, still focusing on the engine.

Marinette nodded. “I have Adrien and Max. We might not look like we can protect ourselves, but we’re pretty good at it.” Actually incredibly well. She was possibly the best protected person in the world right now, but he didn’t have any way of knowing that.

“I’m actually pretty surprised Adrien isn’t with you right now or Max.” He looked over at her with a raised eyebrow.

Marinette nodded. “You’re not wrong. They would be but Max just started work and couldn’t really take a day off immediately and Adrien had a job interview in Metropolis today. And this is the one he’s really excited about. I was supposed to go with him and check out Metropolis, but then I wouldn’t have had anyone with me while he was in the interview and that made them a bit too nervous. Here at least they know I have the bats following me at all times so, they were pretty confident I was safe.”

“The bats are keeping an eye on you, huh?” Roy asked with a secretive grin.

Marinette nodded. “I’m not sure if they’re trying to be subtle, but yeah. I don’t know what kind of relationship they have with the Waynes. They mentioned… the bats certainly act like they talk a lot and know each other well.”

Roy froze for a second. Well, they certainly weren’t being as discrete as they normally are, it would seem. Although after last night, he could imagine they were pretty flustered. He had been and she was just an acquaintance to him. He wanted it to be more but… that wasn’t the point. But at this rate, she was going to figure it out before they told her and he didn’t imagine that going well for them. “So you’ve caught them a few times?”

“Caught is a liberal term for it. Is it catching if they aren’t really hiding? I think Red Robin might have been trying… maybe, but Batman was on our balcony, standing vigil all night last night.”

Roy glanced over for a second. “Batman was watching over your apartment last night?”

Marinette nodded. “Markov said he was there until Red Robin took over some time around breakfast.”

Roy paused for a few seconds then tapped the screwdriver against the workbench. “And… Bruce? Did Bruce check in on you?”

Marinette looked away and licked her lips before pursing them. She twisted the wrench around a few more times, focusing entirely on that, not meeting Roy’s eyes. “No,” she finally said in a falsely calm voice. “I… I didn’t… Dinner didn’t go so well.”

Roy moved closer to her until he was close enough to reach her comfortably but still gave her space so he wasn’t crowding her. He ducked his head to try to meet her eyes. She yielded quickly and met his eyes. “He’s worried about you. I guarantee you he is. He’s just… shit at emotions and reading a room.

“If you guys fought, I promise you he isn’t less worried about you, he’s just afraid that seeing him or hearing from him will upset you more. I promise you he’s finding out everything he can about how you are from anyone that will tell him. He cares. Your fight didn’t push him away. He’s just a fucking idiot. And an asshole, so there’s like a 97% chance if you did fight, it was his fault. And he probably knows that, just not how to make it up to you.”

Marinette huffed out a laugh despite her eyes suddenly turning glassy. “I don’t need him to make it up, just… it’s not even his fault. It was mine really.” She fiddled with the wrench in her hands, testing the strength, trying to bend it, focusing on that as if it was the most interesting thing in the room.

“I doubt it.” He sighed and readjusted his cap as he tried to come up with the right words. “I’ve found that when bad things happen at the manor it’s almost always because Bruce was being a controlling little bitch.” Instead of laughing, she frowned at the wrench. Right, calling her father, she’s trying to connect to a ‘controlling little bitch’ probably isn’t really helping. He sighed and looked back up trying to figure out how to remove the frown. It didn’t look right on her face. She should be smiling. Always. “Do you want a hug?”

Marinette finally looked up from the wrench in surprise. After a second she gave him a weak smile and shook her head, returning her focus to the wrench. “I’m fine.”

Roy lightly placed his hand on the wrench to stop its motion. “That’s not what I asked,” he said gently.

She blinked at him a few times before a smirk quirked her lips up. “I mean… I’m not going to object to a handsome man wrapping his arms around me,” she answered slyly, throwing his words from days earlier back at him. Roy grinned and wrapped his arms around her, gently at first but holding her tighter as the hug went on. His arms were strong and reassuring, giving a sense of warmth and safety and Marinette quickly found herself melting into his embrace. She nuzzled into his chest and dear God, she could feel his muscles moving through his shirt with every minute movement.

She tried to hide her frown when he pulled away after a few minutes. But, it turned into a smile when he stopped after a few inches, just enough to look down at her. Roy smiled softly and rubbed her cheek with his thumb a few times. Marinette leaned into his hand, captivated by the feel of his hand on her face. He started to lean down but jumped away with the sound of clattering right next to them. Roy moved in front of her, caging her in behind him as he looked for the source of the sound.

Marinette grimaced and leaned down to pick up the wrench that had slipped through her fingers when she was looking at Roy. He chuckled awkwardly and moved back to his transmission. He started working on it again a lot slower than he had been before. His hands were shaking slightly. He could still feel the traces of her on his fingers and around his chest, trilling through him. “Can you… um… the. Can you hand me the Phillips head, please?” he stuttered, unable to get his mind settled.

Marinette stared at him for a few seconds, her cheeks still bright red, as her mind tried to kick back into gear. She looked at the tools in the toolbox and back to him. “Is… that’s a tool, not like a horror movie thing, right?”

Roy blinked a few times before breaking out in laughter. Marinette smiled at his laughter, beyond grateful for the change of topic. “The one with the cross for a head,” he said motioning toward the screwdrivers.

“Oh,” Marinette nodded in understanding. “Tournevis cruciform,” she muttered to herself as she searched through the tools for the right screwdriver. “Americans and their naming things.”

Roy grinned at her outrage. “And what do you call it? The cross screwdriver.” he teased.

“That is literally what it translates to,” she deadpanned.

Roy puckered his lips in an attempt at keeping a smile off his lips and make his annoyed wrinkled brow more believable. “Oh, well I bow to your superior naming capabilities,” he snarked with a fake bow.

Marinette nodded graciously and passed the screwdriver to him. “Thank you. That’s all I ask.”

Roy laughed and returned to the transmission, pretending like he could focus on that instead of the kiss they almost had. Marinette watched, almost transfixed as he moved the gears synchronously on the transmission, creating intricate and ever changing patterns. She pulled her sketchbook and pencil out to capture a sudden idea.

“The wrench?” Roy called out, not looking up from the transmission. He held out his hand and waited for a few seconds before adding, “Please?” He waited a little longer before repeating it a bit louder. “Wrench, please?” He finally looked up when she still hadn’t handed it to him. “Marinette?” He looked over to her concerned. His face immediately softened when he saw her.

Marinette’s face was frozen in intense concentration on her sketchbook as she drew confidently and without hesitation. She held the sketchbook out and tilted it slightly. She narrowed her eyes at it and tilted it a different way. Her mouth curved into a satisfied smirk before she added in more details and notes. Her eyes lit up with inspiration, bright and clear. She shook her head to get a stray strand of hair out of her eyes, hands too busy committing her inspiration to paper to waste time with such trivialities. Roy shook his head, mentally berating himself for having backed off before. She had been right there and leaning toward him. Maybe Jason and Dick… and Tim and Damian, were right. He was an idiot.

Before Roy realized what he was doing, he had reached out to tuck it behind her ear, being careful to avoid her cut as his fingers brushed her face. Marinette jumped at the unexpected contact. She looked up at him wide eyed but a sheepish look quickly overtook her expression. She looked down in embarrassment, but that only pressed her face further into Roy’s hand, which made her embarrassed blush deepen but not due to embarrassment this time. “Sorry. Did you need a tool?”

Roy shook his head. He smiled and moved his hand slightly so it was cupping her face this time. “It’s fine. I was enjoying watching you get caught up in inspiration.”

Marinette looked down again and rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right. It is probably the most embarrassing face.”

Roy smiled softly at her, his eyes shining with sincerity and fondness. “No. It wasn’t. It was cute.” He took a step closer to her and leaned a bit closer, more intimately. “I wouldn’t mind seeing it more.”

“More of my too distracted to pay attention to you face?” she smirked and leaned closer to him.

“Any version of your face you’ll let me see. Although I would prefer to see it with fewer cuts,” he frowned at the cut on her cheek as he rubbed a soothing line just below the bruise that had formed around the cut. He leaned closer to examine the cut until his lips were centimeters from her cheek. He flicked his eyes to her half lidded ones and leaned to close the distance.

“Hey, guys!” Dick boomed as he came into the room. Marinette and Roy jumped apart, or rather Roy jumped away and Marinette straightened up on the stool, grabbing the workbench to keep from falling off. “Sorry I’m late. And sorry I’m here instead of Jason. He got… caught up in the attack. Not personally!” he rushed to assure Marinette when her eyes widened and body stiffened. “I meant he’s dealing with the fallout. Jason is fine. He’d just be really, really late and asked if I could come over here instead. If that’s okay.”

Marinette nodded, but her eyes were still slightly widened. “Of course. But you’re sure Jason’s okay?”

“Absolutely,” Dick shot her a charming smile. “He’s just going to need a bit of time to deal with things,” he lied smoothly. He looked between Marinette and Roy with narrowed eyes and moved between them as he hugged Marinette. “He really, really wanted to be here with you today. I think he’s planning on attaching himself to you tomorrow though.”

Marinette chuckled lightly. “That’s okay. We’ll have fun doing something.” Her face suddenly sobered. “Oh, no, wait. I have lunch with Duke and Cass tomorrow. I mean… I think I have lunch with them. We had planned it, but that was before…” she trailed off, not wanting to go into detail at all, but especially in front of Roy.

“I’m sure you still do,” Dick assured her. “They’re probably just waiting to get confirmation from you in case the last few days were a bit much and you wanted a break.”

“No!” Marinette exclaimed. “No. I’ll text them. Thanks.”

“But I get you for tonight. How do you feel about a movie marathon?” he grinned widely, already planning a full night’s marathon with her, Adrien, and Max. She had to love Disney movies, right? Who didn’t love Disney movies?

“I like movies,” Roy chirped with a teasing grin.

“No,” he answered sharply. He turned back to Marinette with a mock sympathetic smile. “You must have been so bored here.”

Roy narrowed his eyes back at him but Marinette jumped up to defend Roy. “Not at all. It was interesting watching him working on the bike. I got some good inspiration too.”

Roy raised a pointed eyebrow at him with a smug grin. “Motorcycles remind her of her grandmother.”

Dick looked back at Marinette who was looking back at Roy with a surprised expression. “Good memory.”

“I remember important things,” he shrugged.

Dick glared at him. “Uh huh. But not to check if things are loaded.” He looked back at Marinette. “You’ve got something just there,” he motioned to the cheek Roy had stroked earlier. “You might want to get that grease off.”

“Oh!” Marinette exclaimed grabbing her cheek, almost succeeding in covering the blush that flushed on her cheeks. “Do you have a bathroom I can use?”

Roy nodded and motioned toward the bathroom. “Just right over there.”

As soon as the door closed, Dick punched Roy’s shoulder. Roy frowned at him. “What?”

“What the Hell are you doing?” Dick hissed and motioned toward the bathroom.

“What?” Roy answered rubbing his shoulder. At least it was just Dick. If it was Jason, he’d be rubbing his jaw right now. “Tim dropped her off here. What was I supposed to do? Ignore her?”

“You were supposed to not hit on her,” he grumbled.

“That’s just unreasonable,” Roy rolled his eyes and leaned back against the workbench. He motioned to the bathroom. “Have you met her? She’s smart and sassy and really sweet. She's funny and obviously gorgeous. Who doesn’t want to hit on her?”

“Yeah. I’ve met her. Didn’t hit on her.” Dick let out a long suffering sigh. “Jesus, Roy! I’ve had her as a sister for like a week. I don’t want to lose her because I’m in jail for killing you.”

“You’re her brother, you don’t count in the hitting on her count. And please,” Roy scoffed, “you’re too good to go to jail for it.”

“True. Just…” he narrowed his eyes at him and pointed at him threateningly, “if you mess around and hurt her… I’ll choose her over you. And I won’t forget to load the magazines and Jason will be more than happy to use them.”

“That’s hurtful,” Roy groused. “One time. I forgot to load the magazines one time.”

“Yeah, in the middle of a mission!” Dick whisper hissed.

“You survived,” Roy shrugged. “Stop being such a baby. But I get it. I’d choose her over me too. Or you. But if you were going to kill anyone for hurting her, Riddler wouldn’t still be alive… or Bruce.”

Dick pursed his lips at the reminder of how Bruce had treated Marinette, of everything that had come up the night before. His anger quickly deflating. He looked toward the bathroom, his eyes softening. They really needed to work harder to support her, to assure her they weren’t holding her at arm’s length. Maybe talk to Bruce about telling her the truth. That seemed like the only possible way to salvage this. “How does she seem to be doing?”

Roy shrugged and watched the bathroom door to make sure she wouldn’t walk in on the conversation. “Actually doesn’t seem too bothered by the Riddler incident. She’s more anxious about the family knowing.” He pursed his lips and picked up a transmission piece, pretending to examine it. “Bruce hasn’t said anything or made any attempts as far as she knows.”

Dick sighed and massaged his temples. “That should surprise me more than it does.” He let out a heavy sigh. “Last night… dinner didn’t… some things came out that Bruce didn’t know. Things she had to go through. He’s beating himself up over it. Too ashamed to talk to her.”

Roy sighed and shook his head. Bruce was going to lose her before he even had her at this point. “That have anything to do with why she’s so unaffected by having been taken captive by one of the most dangerous rogues in Gotham?” Dick’s resigned sigh was enough confirmation for him. “Fuck,” he grumbled. “She thinks it’s her fault he doesn’t want to bother with her anymore.”

“Damn it,” Dick grumbled, drawing out the words in frustration. He ran his hand over his face and collapsed on the stool she had been on earlier. “Good to know. Thanks.”

Roy nodded and threw the part back on the workbench. “How’s Jay doing?”

“He’ll be okay. Tim got there in time to stop him from going too far, but he’s going to need a few hours, maybe the night to let the Pit Madness recede. And I think he’s really nervous about showing any part of that to Marinette.”

They both snapped their attention to Marinette when she came back. “My cheek look better?” she turned her cheek for them to see. “I mean obviously not the cut.”

“Yeah, you look beautiful.” Roy assured her and handed her purse to her.

Dick glared at Roy. “Could you stop hitting on my sister for five seconds?” he hissed low enough for Marinette not to hear. He turned to Marinette before Roy could respond. “Ready to go? I don’t know about you but I’m hungry.”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, okay.”

Dick walked ahead of her, pretending like he didn’t notice her lag behind. When he was almost out the door, she turned to Roy and gave him a lingering kiss on his cheek. “Thank you for babysitting me today and for the tour the other day. I’ve had a lot of fun.”

Roy nodded and handed her his phone with a spot for Fire Flower already started in his contacts. “If your plans ever get canceled again or you need to hide out or you need to borrow a jacket so you fit in, give me a call, Fire Flower.”

Marinette put her number in and passed it back to him with a grin. “You have extra you can just loan out?”

Roy grinned back and nodded. “A few jackets, suit coats, shirts, ties, clean pants, even a few pairs of coveralls, none of which would fit you, but if you ever need them… Or even if you don’t need anything, just want to talk or hang out, let me know.”

“Marinette! I thought you were ready to go?” Dick yelled.

Marinette shook her head and sighed. She waved to Roy as she rushed out. “Thanks again!”

Roy watched her leave until he couldn’t see her anymore. He let out a deep sigh and collapsed against the workbench. He looked at his phone and quickly sent a text with a smile.

Tags:

@maribat-bdbwm @jayjayspixiepop @redscarlet95 @alice-hazelwood @deathssilentapproach-blog @unoriginalmess @alyssadeliv @emotionalsupportginger @frieddonutsweets @when-no-wings-do-broomsticks @toodaloo-kangaroo @colorfulmongerpsychicranch @iloontjeboontje @wolf-for-life @maribatserver @aespades @prettylittlebutterflie @imarivers8 @ certainmuffinbagelcalzone @ritacrow-blog @unoriginalmess @demonicbusiness @kking13 @lady-bee-fechin @blur-of-colours @kittenmywaythrulife @kashlyn @loysydark

#maribat #bio!dad bruce #bio dad bruce wayne #roynette #Even the Losers #prompt - no miraculous au #this is the last chapter I have written already so updates are going to be more sporadic from here on out #mbdbwm2021

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spacedikut · 5 years ago

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how to ask a girl out ; spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid (criminal minds) x reader

summary: elle sees an opportunity to teach spencer about asking a girl out. 3275 words

a/n: based on this scene. this is the longest fic ive ever written so sorry if it’s a painful read��

Spencer feels creepy staring at you like this.

There’s no other way to put it. He feels like he’s twelve again, the youngest in his Las Vegas high school, staring at all the pretty girls that get his heart racing just by existing. But you’re more enchanting than those girls. He could watch you do anything, he thinks, because no matter what you’re doing you look picture perfect, like you don’t have a single bad angle.

Spencer still has the social skills of twelve year old him, though. Especially when dealing with cute people.

“You know,” The voice makes Spencer jump, “If you stare long enough, she just might notice.”

Elle is smirking with her arms crossed, shooting Spencer an incriminating look. He tenses.

Seeing his discomfort, Elle relents, “I’m teasing, Reid.” He visibly relaxes against the door frame he’s half hiding behind, half leaning against.

“I’m not trying to be weird.” He mumbles. Elle thinks he sounds like a kid that was caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“I know you’re not. Have you… spoken to her?”

You’re somewhat new to the unit. Some kind of assistant to JJ who joined several months ago (three months and three days, if Spencer counted correctly) (he did), which means the team don’t see you that much, just enough that you’ve been the topic of discussion a few times. It doesn’t help that JJ sings your praise, and Hotch recently revealed you made yourself available for babysitting his new-born if he ever needs it. Every time someone mentions you, it’s followed by some kind of compliment. Everyone loves you. Spencer has said all of five words to you, and he’s smitten.

“Hi. I’m Spencer. A doctor.”

When you were introduced you didn’t pay him much attention. He can’t blame you, it was overwhelming for you – being introduced to a whole bunch of FBI agents and then thrown head-first into sorting cases for them. But Spencer paid attention. He couldn’t tear his eyes away. Derek’s caught him staring one too many times, but it isn’t Spencer’s fault he can’t stop thinking about you. You enter the room and Spencer’s attention is pulled to you, like a magnet.

Derek thinks it’s time he made a move. Spencer agreed and maintained that confidence for all of fifteen minutes, until he heard your joyful laugh dance down the hallway and his tongue felt too heavy to form words.

That’s when Elle noticed.

Across the room, you’re laughing at something Derek said with JJ. Seeing you smile makes Spencer smile, and Elle nudges him.

“Have you considered approaching her? Rather than, you know, watching her from afar like she’s prey?”

Spencer huffs, “You think I haven’t tried?”

Every time he’s moved to start a conversation, he finds himself unable to complete a single sentence. After he says hello, then what? He dies?

Elle breathes through her nose in frustration. “She’s a nice girl. I’ve spoken to her a couple of times. She mentioned the other day she wants to visit the local museum, since she just moved and hasn’t really explored yet. Shame no one is available to accompany her, right?”

“Are you implying something?”

“Yes.”

“I-I don’t. I can’t-“

“You can’t or you won’t?”

Spencer’s always admired Elle’s ability to be blunt and fearless. But he isn’t Elle, Elle isn’t him, so to him it doesn’t feel like he simply chooses to pussy out of talking to you – it feels like he’s physically constrained. Like he’s fighting against the tide of the ocean to reach you, and he keeps getting pushed back, further and further away from you.

Elle’s eyes shift between you and Spencer, like she’s watching a tennis match. “Just go up and ask her. It’s that simple. If she says no, she says no. No big deal!”

Spencer shakes his head, “I can’t do that. It’s Y/N! She’s-she’s-“

“A normal human being. You know, like you and me? The second you start putting people on pedestals is when things start falling apart.” She pats him on the shoulder as encouragement, “Have some confidence, Reid.”

And she walks away, as if just telling him to have some confidence will make him suddenly have the courage to whisk you off your feet.

He wishes he could whisk you off your feet.

+++

The paperwork is never ending. Times like this, Spencer considers recanting his stance on technology – maybe having everything on an online database would be a good idea. The stacks upon stacks around him would agree.

A paper ball hits the back of Spencer’s head.

He turns, slowly, and Elle gives a wave from her desk. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

“Can I… help you?”

“Yes, you can.” She nods to the paper on the floor, “Read it.”

He leans and grabs the ball from the floor, opening it with furrowed brows.

Step 1: Actually talk to her.

Suddenly, Elle is standing right next to him, looking all-too-pleased with herself. She leans over him.

“What does this mean?”

“You wanna date Y/N? Talk to her. That means marching right up to her pretty little face and saying more than, like, a few words to her. You need to have a conversation with her to let her know you’re interested.”

Elle’s clearly confident in her plan, but it seems she’s forgetting an important detail – this is Spencer that she’s dealing with. Not Derek, who can charm anyone out of anything (or into anything), not Hotch who, when he wants to be, is the smoothest criminal ever. Not even Gideon, with his soft eyes that make anyone that stares into them feel safe. He’s Spencer Reid who, according to one guy, looks like a pipe cleaner with eyes.

Spencer’s hesitant to take any of Elle’s advice.

“What would I… say to her?” He asks. If he does talk to you, what does he even say? Do you even want to talk to him? What if you immediately hate him and JJ beats him up? She could do it. He’s seen her guns.

Elle looks at him incredulously, “Reid! C’mon! Anything! Ask how her day has been, if she had a good weekend, are there plans for this weekend… Literally anything.” Spencer gives a look of distrust, “You’ll know if she’s interested, trust me. She’ll reciprocate. If she doesn’t, she’s not up for it, and there’s your answer without even asking her out.”

At that moment, you and JJ appear from thin air, whispering to one another with your arms full of files. Both Spencer and Elle’s watchful gazes follow you right up until JJ’s office door is clicked shut and when you can only slightly be seen through the blinds, Spencer still stares. Elle hits him over the head.

“Pay attention!”

“She’s distracting!”

“She walked by you, not gave you a lap dance! Focus on the plan!”

With a sigh, he looks back to the crumpled paper in his hands. “What’s step two?”

The paper’s yanked out of his hands and Elle furiously scribbles something before handing it back to him.

Step 2: Make her laugh.

“I can’t do that.”

She scoffs, “Reid.”

“People laugh at me, Elle, not with me. The only way she’ll laugh is if I make a complete fool of myself and when I do that, I’m running away and never looking back. You’ll never see me again.”

Sick of the self-deprecation, Elle leans close to Spencer’s face and begins to whisper menacingly.

“Listen, bud,” She threatens, “You need to stop being so hard on yourself. You’re young, you’re inexperienced – that’s why approaching Y/N is so terrifying. Not because she’s out of your league, or you’re not good enough, it’s because you’ve never done this before. It’s simply a fear of stepping out of your comfort zone, so stop being so hard on yourself.”

Spencer isn’t sure how to respond, silently wishing something could get him out of this situation. He’s not used to being complimented so ferociously.

God answers his prayers. In the worst way possible.

“Incoming. Make her laugh, Reid.” Elle says, slinking off back to her desk.

Spencer quickly realises you’re approaching and his hands grip the armrests of his chair. He’s not ready for this. He wishes he had time to prepare, maybe google how to woo a woman, but you’re in front of him, all precious smiles with a manila folder in your hand.

“Hi, Doctor Reid.”

Your voices sounds like heaven. He can’t help but think, despite only listening to classical music, he could listen to your voice and only your voice if given the option. It’s like honey, sweet and smooth, and something inside him stirs. Everything about you is lovely.

He clears his throat and nervously wipes at his nose, “Hey. What can I do for you?”

“I was told to bring this to you,” You hand him the folder, “And JJ wanted me to check up on you. She said you’ve been working non-stop and that you probably consumed your bodyweight in coffee with enough sugar to give a small army diabetes. My guess is she wants to check your heart is still beating.”

Spencer laughs at that, which encourages you to giggle along. He freezes when he sees the way your eyes scrunch and smile widens when you laugh – he’d only seen it from a distance, up close it feels intimate and causes his throat to tighten. When your laughter dies, you’re left with an awkward silence as he stares. You shuffle your feet.

Elle is trying to look like she isn’t paying attention, but in her head she’s screaming at Spencer to say something!!!

“Sorry for disturbing you if you’re – um – if you’re busy.” You gesture to the mess on Spencer’s desk, and it’s then that he realises how his silence could’ve looked – to him, you quite literally took his breath away, but to you? He’s a weirdo that is still holding the file mid-air and hasn’t said a thing for far too long.

“No! No,” Spencer brushes his hair back, “Thank you for the file. JJ’s right, I should probably take a break-“

He looks up then. This is his chance, right?

“Are you busy right now?”

You glance around and your eyes find JJ’s office, where she’s signalling for you to come over, “Yeah. Sorry.”

It feels like a punch in the gut – is this rejection? – but there’s a look of sadness that crosses your face. Your mouth falls at the edges and your brows slightly crease – do you wish you weren’t busy?

If Spencer didn’t feel like he’s seconds away from vomiting, he’d ask. Maybe. That sounds a whole lot like flirting and he isn’t sure he can handle that.

You quickly leave, not before you tell him to look after himself (his heart swells), and the second you’re far enough away Elle is marching right over and throwing the paper at him, again, even though she’s standing right in front of him.

“She rejected me.”

“Yea- wait, what?” Elle starts to celebrate, but stops at her words, “No she didn’t. Did we see different things?”

“It sure felt like rejection. Felt weird.”

“That was the perfect chance to ask her to go out after work or maybe on the weekend, but, in your defence, that’s a Derek-level response and we’re not quite there yet. Step three, go.”

Spencer unfolds the paper ball begrudgingly, wondering if any of this is actually worth it.

Step 3: Get JJ to back the fuck up.

Spencer laughs.

“Either you tell JJ you like her assistant and ask for her help, or you tell JJ you like her assistant and that she needs to stop using her so much.” Elle sounds matter-of-fact and confident.

“You want me to tell JJ to stop giving her assistant work?” Spencer asks, face scrunched.

With a shrug, Elle says, “Or you could ask her to help you. She knows the most about Y/N.”

Looking up to JJ’s office, he realises how true Elle’s statement is. JJ knows you better than anyone else here, you’ve quickly become good friends, and JJ wouldn’t lie to Spencer about you if it involved his feelings. He trusts JJ like that.

But then you throw your head back in laughter, a hearty laugh that JJ follows with her own tinkling chuckle, and Spencer is reminded of the sinking feeling he’s had when he’s been rejected before. The emotional slap in the face that causes you to lose all confidence. In his head, he rationalises that attempting to ask you out is pointless. You won’t like him, scrawny profiler who follows his team members like a lost puppy, the guy unable to maintain eye contact for more than four seconds. The logical side, however, the side that runs the show when Spencer is on a case and hides his feelings, tells him he has nothing to lose. Morgan would be proud of him, not ashamed, because Spencer had the guts to ask someone out – Spencer! Elle would understand and tell him something about learning for next time, and the rest of the team wouldn’t really care.

He has nothing to lose and everything to gain. A date with you? A relationship with you? That’d feel like winning the lottery. It feels more likely than winning the lottery, too.

Then Morgan walks past him, more like swaggers, all good looks and charm and everything Spencer doesn’t have.

Spencer decides he’ll save himself the rejection.

+++

JJ gets involved without Spencer realising. He connects the dots on the way back to Virginia, after a case in which you were brought along instead of JJ.

There was a “family emergency”, apparently, after the debrief and right before take-off. Although it wasn’t your first case, it was your first time travelling with the team. When you pad in, sparkling eyes gliding all around the jet, Spencer zeroes in on the gruesome scene photos to avoid being caught staring.

You fit into the role flawlessly. It’s like you were born for the part, effortlessly slipping into the job of communicator between the team and the police force, standing fearlessly in front of the press as they piled on the pressure.

In the conference room where the team set up, he noticed you actively try to stay out of the way whilst simultaneously help in any way you could. You offered coffee every two hours (Spencer counted), cleaned up any and all rubbish the team left around – burger wrappers, useless post-it notes – and mothered the team by reminding them they need breaks, too.

At the hotel, you jokingly poked Spencer in the shoulder and said, “No more coffee for you. You’ll get a sugar rush and won’t be able to sleep.”

“Like a toddler?”

“Exactly like a toddler. Straight to bed for you.”

You grinned at eachother before you separated to go to your rooms. Around three am, Spencer instinctively went to make himself a drink but stopped and thought of you. He decided for that night, just that night, he could get a somewhat decent amount of sleep.

Now, on the flight home, Gideon pauses before his move in their third game of chess to stare at something behind Spencer’s shoulder. When he notices, Spencer turns to see what has his mentor’s attention and stutters when it’s you. You, looking like you’re straight out of a cheesy romance movie when you push your hair back while reading your book.

Gideon switches from staring at you to staring at Spencer.

“She’s a pretty girl, huh?”

Spencer knows where this is going.

“Elle told me you’re sweet on her.”

“Elle shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Elle has been watching you two the entire case.”

“Elle-“

Gideon clears his throat, making Spencer finally make eye contact, “You scared? Worried?”

“About what?” Spencer asks.

“Rejection. If she’ll laugh in your face, say something about never wanting anyone like you.”

Sometimes, Spencer is terrified of Gideon’s ability to read people. He swears he has this inhuman ability to take a peek into people’s minds, read their most intrusive and negative thoughts, and confront them about them. Like he’s doing to Spencer now.

“Something like that, yeah,” Spencer murmurs. He shuffles uncomfortably in his seat, “It’s your move.”

“I know.” Gideon nods to you, making Spencer look again, “Don’t you think, in twenty years’ time, you’d want to look back at this moment and be glad you asked? No matter the outcome? Rather than wondering if she’d said yes, asking all kinds of what-ifs…”

“You’re telling me to ask her out?”

Gideon gives Spencer a smile that fills him with confidence. He doesn’t know what it is, but he trusts Gideon with his whole life. If he tells him to go for it, then he should go for it, right?

“I happen to know the Virginia museum is having a deal on tickets if you order them online. Might be something to look into.” He sounds borderline smug now.

With one last look to Gideon, he stands and slowly waddles to the chair opposite you.

“Mind if I sit?” He asks, a hand gently resting on the back of the empty seat. You startle slightly at the unexpected voice, but gesture for him to sit with a smile.

“How are you feeling?” You wonder, squinting slightly as the sun shines in your eyes. It makes them sparkle, and Spencer has never understood wanting to drown in someone’s eyes until that moment.

“Just glad the case is over. You did a great job, by the way, filling in for JJ last minute.” Spencer is surprised that his voice doesn’t crack or stop completely.

You beam at the praise, “Thank you. JJ’s got some big boots to fill, even if it’s for one case.”

He shrugs and pulls a face as if you’ve said something ridiculous, “Don’t sell yourself short. When she realises how good you are, she’ll start taking all kinds of holidays.” He jokes.

He can’t help but grin when you laugh.

Elle passes. In the very brief eye contact they make, Elle’s eyes are wide and jumping from you to Spencer, Spencer to you. She’s sending him a message, and he bets Gideon is watching, too.

“Hey,” He starts, leaning on the table between you. You instinctively lean closer, too, which Spencer takes as a positive sign, “How would you.. like…”

He has to take a second to inhale a shaky breath and nervously push his hair behind his ears. You wait, all patient and divine, and his eyes dash around your face.

“To go to the museum with me?”

It comes out rushed and you look confused. “Huh?”

Spencer tries again, after clearing his throat, “How would you like to go to the museum with me? When we get back. As a date.”

“You’re asking me on a date?”

“…Yes?”

If you weren’t staring directly at him, he’d think you were making fun of him and about to unleash a nice bout of rejection.

You move one hand to lean your face against, moving in a little closer, “I would love that.”

Spencer is speechless. You would love that?

“Oh- wow. Yeah, thanks. Good.”

Who says thanks when someone agrees to go on a date with them?

You giggle.

“We’ll plan when we get back?” You ask.

“Yes. Definitely.” He nods three times.

You can’t help but bite your lip, he’s too cute, and it immediately draws Spencer’s attention.

Behind you both, Gideon turns to Elle. “Success.”

Elle rolls her head against the back of her seat and stares out the window, “Step four: Get Gideon to get the job done.”

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfic #mine #this is incredibly self indulgent because i would give anything to go on a museum date with spencer or mgg #also this was longer before editing and originally included a whole thing with a male police officer being interested in reader but it was #already SO LONG

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justasparkwritings · 4 years ago

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Codename Cupid: Chapter 10

Previous: Searching for Seokjin Pt. 2

Pairings: Light Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Secret AgentAU, AgentAU, Government Agent AU, Slice of Life

Ratings: PG13

Word Count: 2.7K

Warnings: Swearing

Summary: She finds Taehyung at the local dog park, an unfamiliar face by his side.

Tailing Taehyung

Present Day

I’ll be honest, this is my favorite part of the job. Music low, tinted windows, unmarked baseball cap adorning my head, GPS tracking my every move so I can retrace my steps. I’ve already downed a grande latte, two bagels and a family sized bag of sour skittles. But it’s the quiet waiting, the planning of every move, the sleuthing and interpreting, anticipating another person’s every move.

Kim Seokjin is predictable. He gets up, goes to work, comes home. There’s no romantic partner, no gym time, nothing. His office building, non-descript, standard skyscraper. It’s painful how predictable he is. Which is why after three days, I begin to search for another name on Euna’s list. Kim Taehyung.

He’s easier to track, beloved librarian, he works at the downtown branch where he packs the house for his weekly story hour. Costumes, characters, voices, he commands the room, never demanding adoration because it’s so freely given. His name at the Library, though, is not Kim Taehyung, but Jung Taehyung, as if he got married and changed his name without telling anyone. My only indication that they’re the same person are photos from Euna.

Tailing Taehyung is thrilling. He’s going to book launches, gallery openings, museum exhibits, clubbing, and on a few nights, stays late to close the library. Those are my favorite, he puts headphones on and dances around the library, re-shelving children’s books and shaking his ass. He lives across town from Seokjin, in a quaint house with a green door. He seems to have an abundance of friends, rarely goes out with the same people twice in one week. No partner on record, no flirting or taking someone home with him. He does have a dog, something he must’ve picked up after leaving the Lee’s.

Picking up Johnson from my sister’s house, I park near the dog park by Taehyung’s house, a frequent weekend spot. He might go to different clubs every Thursday or try a new restaurant with a pair of gentlemen, but he goes to the same dog park on both Saturday and Sunday, then to the coffee shop on the corner, where he tries a new drink on Saturday. If he likes the drink, he gets it again on Sunday, but if he hates it, he picks something new. He never orders coffee, only tea and juice concoctions. How he exists, with all that energy, and no coffee, I will never understand.

Another thing I will never understand is Johnson. A golden doodle with a slight limp, she’s both deeply loving and simultaneously polarizing. She runs hot and cold, licking you one minute, growling the next. There’s no reason for her split personality, her ability to turn on a dime, but I’d like to think Johnson is struggling with her identity and would really benefit from therapy. At two years old, still fully a puppy, she has gone to obedience school three times, and is only truly unkept when forced to be with humans for too long. The dog park is her happy place. She loves running around, sniffing everything, frolicking in the grass, no leash, totally free.

What a blessing to borrow my sisters fur baby to ensnare Kim Taehyung.

Maisy pulls me towards the dog park, excitement coursing through her body. It takes everything in me to not drop the leash and let her go, but she has a high chance of running into traffic and her death cannot be on my conscience. Within moments of stepping into the park, I spot Taehyung and his little pup. A black and gold Pomeranian, he weighs the same as Johnson’s front paws. Taehyung stands, sunglasses on, black hair parted slightly to reveal his honeyed forehead. He looks too cool for school, and I’d believe he was, if he wasn’t laughing energetically at the man to his right. The man is familiar, one of the usual men he tries a new restaurant with every Tuesday.

Setting Maisy free, I move around the park, monitoring her, hoping she’ll land exactly where I want her to.

The initial contact with a mark, or suspect, is the most precarious. I can’t come on too strong, can’t give too much away or seem too eager. I have to have every moment planned in order to get the information I need. In this case, it’s getting close enough that I can speak with Tae to find out what he knows regarding Lee Euna and her family, and maybe see if he’ll drop hints about her manifesto.

I circle the park, my eyes on Johnson and Taehyung, slowly moving closer to the man and his friend.

“Did you catch the end of the game last night?” The other man asks.

“No, was I supposed to?” Taehyung responds.

“It’s too early in the season to be calling it, but they’ve got a chance to go to the Superbowl,”

“Huh,”

“Excuse me, sorry to interrupt,” I say, turning my body to face them. “Is that your dog? The little one?”

“Yeah, it is,” Taehyung answers, smiling lightly at me.

“It’s so cute, what’s its name?”

“Yeontan, or Tannie,”

“Adorable, is that Korean?” I ask.

“Yes,”

“Very cool, my boyfriend’s Korean,” I lie. Jungkook isn’t my boyfriend. He’s just a guy I’ve slept with once and fallen asleep next to twice … or whatever.

“Nice, I wonder if we know him,” Taehyung said. “What’s his last name?”

“Jeon,” I tell them. I clock the miniscule movement in their brows, the exchanged glance, but I don’t know what it means.

“Not too many of those, what’s his first name?” The man next to Taehyung asks.

“Jungkook” I tell them. My eyes don’t leave their faces as they both nod, neither daring to share a glance.

“I don’t think I know him,” Taehyung says.

“Well, what are your names? I can ask him if maybe he knows you?” I offer. Take the bait, take the bait.

“I’m Taehyung, this is Jimin,” He says.

“Y/N,” I offer my hand to shake, which they each accept.

This is my moment, “This is going to sound crazy, but do you know Lee Euna?”

“Who?” Jimin asks.

I scrutinize his features, no slight quiver of the upper lip, no pupils dilating, no quickened breath. “Lee Euna, she’s part of the family that owns Lee Enterprises?”

“Oh, Lee Enterprises, I’ve heard of them, they’re brokers?” Jimin asks.

“Traders,” Taehyung responds.

“Candlestick makers,” I finish the rhyme, both men look at me quizzically, then laugh. “They do banking and stock trading for the top 0.01% of society, royals, billionaires, human traffickers, etc.”

“Ah,” Jimin nods. “Not my area of expertise.”

Agreeing, Taehyung nods, “Mine either,”

“Same,” I add. Maisy runs up to me and begins growling at the men I’m standing with. “Johnson Maisy Lou, knock it off,”

“Johnson Maisy Lou?” Taehyung laughs.

“I didn’t name her,” I shrug.

“Her?” Jimin continues laughing. He’s like, really pretty.

“Yeah, my sister’s dog. She gives no shits when it comes to gender norms. Johnson was a bet she lost though,” I inform them. I reattach Maisy’s leash and give her a good once over. “You ready?”

She wags her tail in response.

“It was nice to meet you guys, maybe I’ll see you next weekend?” I smile again, friendly and kind to a flaw.

“Yeah, bring your boyfriend, we might have some friends in common,” Jimin smiles again.

I wave before dragging Maisy back to the trail and slowly to the car. They know Jungkook, I don’t know how, or why, but something in their reaction tells me that they are more than just friendly with him. Maybe they went to school together? Or worked together before their respective positions at the library and whatever Jimin does? That would answer few questions but makes me feel uneasy.

When I return to my car, I’m met with a familiar sight. An envelope resting on my driver’s seat. Car locked, windows intact, it sits, waiting. My blood runs cold, chills down my spine as I stare. I swallow the bile in the back of my throat and survey my surroundings.

“The first was a warning shot. This is your last chance. Stop. Looking.”

I panic, glancing all around me, trying to find someone who stands out in the weekend shuffle. There’s no absurdly dressed person, no one in a weird hat or harboring a long-range camera, no one glancing at me in my sheer panic, fear pushing my fight or flight into overdrive.

Choosing a stance somewhere between fear and power, I walk swiftly towards the coffee shop. Ordering a concoction I’ve heard Taehyung order, I ask the cashier a leading question.

“That’ll be $3.57,” He smiles. I glance at his nametag, Robert.

“Thanks, Robert. Can I ask you something?”

“Of course!” He answers.

“You see that black car?” I point towards the general direction of my vehicle. “Have you seen anyone approach it in the last hour?”

“No, but I just started my shift twenty minutes ago,” Robert informs me.

“Okay, thanks,” I move out of the way and watch as other customers flit through the shop, the open concept rustic café is a hot spot, known for their tea infusions and gluten free pastries, it’s a hot ticket. The line is often out the door, and everyone who works here receives massive tips. I don’t know who gives their spare change, but I’ve seen the jar completely full on more than one occasion. Tipping for leaf water is preposterous, but then again, a good cup of leaf water is hard to find. I think, I’ve never really truly looked for it.

After giving myself 30 minutes to calm down, I head back to my car, taking the note and slipping it into an evidence bag. I drive the 15 to my sisters, knocking aggressively as I am positive Maisy is one bark away from biting me.

“Did you have to bring her back?” C asks, opening the door.

“I don’t want to be arrested for dog-abuse, that’s a serious crime,” I hand her Maisy’s leash, and she obediently retreats into the house, running towards her food bowl.

“Oh, I’ll stick the ASPCA on you for sure. How was she?” C asks, stepping back to allow me into the house.

I sigh, “Useful, did exactly what I needed her to.”

“That might be the first time in her life she’s listened to directions,” C laughs. “Water?”

“And probably the last, isn’t that right Johnson Maisy?” I ruffle behind her ears and take the can of Bubly from my sister.

“How’s your little man friend?” She asks, hope in her eyes.

“He’s not little, and he’s not a friend,” I correct her.

“Right, right, how’s lover boy?”

“Don’t call him that,” I squeeze my eyes closed, knowing full well where she’s headed.

“Oh, baby, how’s baby?” She does her best Jennifer Grey impression.

“You’re the worst. And he’s fine,”

“Have you been seeing him regularly? What’s his name again? JK? Did his parents just really like New York Undercover? Or I’m sorry, the Killing Joke?” C laughs at her own jokes, which makes me hate her cleverness even more.

“Jungkook, and yes you can call him JK,” I sip on the pineapple flavored sparkling H2O.

“And?”

“He’s great, he’s wonderful, he’s sexy and intelligent and thoughtful and kind and I could swim in his Bambi eyes forever, okay?”

She laughs at my tone, frustration evident as I blush profusely.

“You like him,” She sings.

“Too much it seems,” I roll my eyes.

“Are the feelings mutual?”

“He took me to breakfast, after dancing, we didn’t have sex, and then, he took me to dinner and a movie the next day, a ‘traditional date’ as he called it. It’s been a month? Not even, and I think about him constantly. I want to see him every second of everyday and I feel so sad when he’s gone. I’m literally handing him my heart to break and I think, all signs are pointing to him handing me his,” I bury my face in my hands, feeling the heat radiate onto my palms. Why is this so embarrassing?

“Are you going to take it?” C asks.

“Haven’t I already?”

C lets it hang I the air, my willing acceptance of heartache at the hands of this lionhearted man, my willingness to be absolutely gutted by him, and in return, his vulnerability to be tossed out like every other man who has ever dared to get close to me.

“Maybe he’s worthy,” C offers.

Shaking my head, “It’s not about being worthy, I don’t deserve anyone.”

“No, no one deserves anything except basic human rights, food, shelter, education, healthcare… but maybe you’ve found a guy who is actually going to be supportive and challenging, someone who isn’t scared of your callousness and thrives in your ability to love without bounds. Maybe he’s that person for you.” Her stare is knowing, and I hate how correct she could possibly be. I hate that I’m falling so quickly, and I hate that he might be falling too. It’s easier when one person has the upper hand, when a bluff pays off with a win. But if we both fold, then are hearts become collateral, and to whom the pieces go becomes a mystery.

“Can we please stop talking about him?” I request, the tears brimming giving way to my distress.

C smiles softly, her knowing sisterly gaze on my tears. “Absolute. How’s the case going?”

“Fine, I found another guy with Taehyung, they both seem to know Jungkook, but I don’t know how they know him or why they lied about it. Neither mentioned anything that was useful,” I wipe the few tears away and pick up my drink.

“Will you keep digging?” She asks.

“I’m not sure there’s much more to dig. Euna has her list, she knows what they did, she doesn’t want proof that they’re guilty, she just wants to know where she can find them.” I inform her.

“That’s the business you’re in, finding people who don’t want to be found?” C clarifies. She knows better than anyone what I do. Though I function in dark allies and make backroom deals, C follows the letter of the law and works for a branch of the CIA. Doing what, I do not know, but she understands the importance of hiding, and the lengths people will go to, to remain out of sight.

“It’s not my job to protect them, C, if I can find them, anyone can.”

“Why does she want to find them?”

“Revenge is my guess, why she had to come to me when she’s worth billions is beyond my understanding. She could’ve hired anyone, had a mole in the government search, literally anything other than showing up at my broken-down door,”

C pauses, “What if they’re in witness protection? What if she was abusive?”

“They’re not in witness, if they were, they wouldn’t use their real names or live in the same city she does. That and you would’ve found out. And, there are no records of abuse in the system, no restraining orders, nothing.”

“Could they be hiding from her?” C questions.

“In plain sight?” I counter.

She laughs. “Staring Mary McCormack now streaming on Amazon Prime.”

“I’m leaving,” I roll my eyes.

“Just, be careful, okay?” She reaches for me, and I enter her embrace. Sister hugs always carry more weight.

“I will be,” I say into her hair.

“Don’t dig a hole bigger than you can fill,” She kisses my cheek gently, her lip gloss sticking to my skin.

“That’s not a saying,” I reply as I wipe the goo from my face.

“Don’t care. Love you,” C stares me down, her words echoing through me.

“Love you, mean it,” I respond, and her shoulders relax.

We haven’t always had the best relationship, the most love, the most respect. She’s anal and controlling, I’m easy going and dare I say, happy? We’ve always been opposites, she loved analytics, statistics, history. I craved action, drama, constant stimulation. We both love puzzles, though hers remain recreational and mine professional. At our core, we’re cut from the same cloth. Mannerisms mimicking the other, eyes of similar shape, looking enough like sisters to never be questioned.

But she’s right.

Am I digging a hole bigger than what I can fill? Has Lee Euna, Euna Lee, set me up to completely fail? Do these men want to remain in hiding, and if so, what’s the level of risk I am putting them at?

Maybe solving the mystery of who the man was with Taehyung will guide me towards an answer.

Next: Codename Another Shot at Love Pt. 4

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malfoysqueen54 · 4 years ago

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In The Name Of The Father

Steve Rogers X OFC

Warnings: Character Death, Cussing? Thats it for now

18+ Only PLEASE! Beware my work can end up anywhere in smutville!!

Phil Coulsons daughter was devoted to her father, now in his death she devotes herself to Steve Rogers. In his memory. The girl she never felt he wanted no matter how she tried to be the super solider he dreamed of having as a son. Now as Steve's friend/ partner/ agent, she must deal with her baggage, but that chip on her shoulder is hard to remove. Even with Steve's charms.

She fell to her knees in front of her commanding officer and he approached to help her up with his lieutenant. Her father was gone—he was dead. She felt as if a huge slab of cement was laying on her chest. She couldn’t breathe. She didn’t know if she ever would again. Her eyes squinted at the bright desert landscape around her. The noise of the encampment was being drowned out by the rushing sound in her ears from her blood pumping so fast.

“You need to pack, Major. You're going home. Your ride is already here.” She looked up at the General, her vision still hazy, and he gestured to the opening of the tent behind her. She knew and got up running to the man who recruited, trained and loved her like a father. Her gaze met Fury’s after a few minutes of silent tears.

“Let’s go, Brooke. I got you.” His hand gently smoothing over her back.

Everything was a blur…she couldn’t even go to the funeral. The Avengers were there and she saw red because of that. It wasn’t their fault, but she was so angry. Plus, he would be there. The bane of her existence, even if they hadn’t met yet. Brooke couldn’t face that, not yet. Her activities were simple for nearly two months. Drink, barely eat, barely sleep, drink more. So, of course, the reinforcements came.

Fury never knocked and she heard his booming voice first. “Brooke! Where are you?” It made her hangover worse.

“Jesus Christ, Nick, really!” she snapped, pouring more vodka in a glass. It was breakfast; why the hell not. Nat showed up, grabbed the bottle and poured it out. Brooke groaned and rolled her eyes, and Nick took the glass from her.

That one eye of his judging her like it always did. “You look like shit,” he said gently, yet matter-of-factly.

“Well I feel like shit, Fury.” She saluted him with a sarcastic grin, and then leaned on the kitchen counter, holding her head.

Nat put her hand on Brooke’s arm. “This won’t bring him back. You know he would be pissed.” Nat’s grip getting a little tighter to get her attention

Brooke turned to her friend and glared gently. “I was never enough. He would always be pissed, no matter what I did.” Her retort was dry and sorrowful; she knew how true that was. She had been trained almost since birth. You name it, she did it, including Army Special Forces and S.H.I.E.L.D. Nope, still not good enough.

Nick looked at Natasha and then back to Brooke. “I need a handler/partner/agent for Steve Rogers.” It was to the point.

Brooke sobered like cold water had been thrown on her. She snapped her eyes up to meet his and Natasha’s. “Are you kidding?!” she practically screeched.

“No, and you are the one who knows the most about him. You know stuff we probably don’t.” He gestured between him and Nat.

Brooke pushed off the counter, running her hands into her hair, her blood boiling. “You want me to babysit that little shit!” Her stance turned angrily towards Fury.

“Actually, he is like six foot two, so he only beats you by like two inches. Unless you wear your heels,” the redhead replied.

Brooke snarled. “I know how tall the bastard is.” Brooke took deep breaths, the scenarios running through her head. She owed this to her dad. Steve Rogers was his idol. She closed her eyes. “Fine, but that jerk will not know my personal past. Work related, fine.” Her hands were on her hips, sternly looking at Nick and Natasha.

Fury nodded, folding his arms. “What do you want your cover name to be then?”

She smirked and scoffed a little. “How about Barnes?”

Natasha sucked in a breath through her teeth. “That’s just cold, Brooke.” Fury shook his head.

“Fine, Collins, same thing we have used before.” She rolled her eyes as she waved her hand dismissively, turning to go shower and sober up.

“Your first get together is tonight at S.H.I.E.L.D.” Nat informed her.

“Yippee,” was the only bored reply they got as she closed her bedroom door on them.

The director and agent took their leave. Natasha was nervous, though. It could be a nuclear disaster in the making. “Are you sure we should do this? Put them together like this? Steve can be just as stubborn as she is.”

“If anyone can handle him, it’s her. Plus, she needs this. Her grudge will have to subside. He’s a damn boy scout, for Christ sake,” Fury replied, opening the door of the SUV.

“And she has a personal vendetta,” Natasha said getting into the passenger seat.

Fury sighed, falling back into the driver’s seat. “You have known her for years, trained with her. You know she will do everything to her father’s memory and credit. So, I know she may hate it, but she would die for Captain America. She is a soldier, she is loyal and one of the best damn assets we have.”

Natasha nodded with a knowing smirk. “You're right.” She sighed with a gentle chuckle. “She’s gonna hate it.”

Steve blew out a breath as he stood before Fury, Nat, Clint and Tony. He still didn’t know why he needed agent backup, or a handler, as they were also known as. Nick just looked at him sitting there and gave a slight smirk to Clint and Nat.

“So- when does his babysitter get here,” Tony asked. Clint and Nat shook their heads while Steve just sighed heavily.

“It’s not a babysitter. You Avengers all have loyal backup and agent help. Captain Rogers is no different,” Nick corrected him, glaring him down with that gaze of his.

Tony shrugged. “Alright, well does this guy have the ability and skill to back up the Capsicle?” Steve exhaled heavily through his nose, narrowing his eyes at Tony. “Just looking out for you Cap.” The billionaire folded his arms with another small shrug.

Steve hated to admit it, but looked at Fury and wondered the same thing. “He has a point.”

Clint and Natasha glanced at one another, smiling as Nick picked up a file. “Well, Army Special Forces, Green Beret. A Major in the Army. Three tours in Afghanistan.” Nick glanced up and Cap nodded as Tony looked unimpressed and gestured him to go on. “Three black belts, mixed martial arts fighting and winner, mind you. Weapons training, including blades, knifes, Asian weapons, swords and HYDRA weapons, as well as archery. A licensed pilot, a trained spy with undercover ops in Russia, Iran, England and Germany. Fluent in fifteen languages, do I need to keep going on?” He threw the file down on the table.

“How old is this guy? I mean, that’s a lot. Can’t have a lot of life experience. I mean no serum making him young like gramps over here.” Tony jerked his thumb at Steve. Steve shrugged—sounded qualified.

“Agent Collins is thirty-one,” Clint raised his hand. “Why are you here again, Tony?”

“Oh, I was updating tech for S.H.I.E.L.D.,” he replied. “Wanted to look out for Cap here.” He smirked walking slowly over toward where Steve was seated.

“When’s he supposed to be here?” Steve asked ignoring Tony.

Agent Collins is here, Director.

They heard over the com on the desk.

“Show her into the conference room. We will be right there.”

“Her?!” Steve and Tony both exclaimed while Nat and Clint snickered at that.

“Yes. Her. Unlike you, Stark, I can trust Captain Rogers with a female,” Fury stated as Tony put his hand on Steve’s shoulder.

“Sorry, you will be stuck with a real dog.” Tony patted his shoulder as they set to leave the room to meet this agent Collins. Steve really wasn’t happy now. Fury picked up the folder and they all followed him to the conference room.

“Fury, really, a woman, why?” Steve huffed slightly.

“Because she’s the best, next to you guys,” the director replied

“She’s a real old, deadly hag- he means,” Tony chirped in.

“Enough, Tony,” Steve snapped at him.

Fury opened the door and they walked in. Her back was to them, sitting in the chair. Her blonde, or was it strawberry blonde, hair—Steve couldn’t tell in the lighting—was pulled up in a ponytail. She turned in her chair, not getting up, and looked at them.

“Are you kidding me?” Tony looked at Fury, flabbergasted.

Fury nodded as Steve looked at her face. She didn’t look like she was in her thirties. She didn’t look too young, either. He walked over to her. “You’re Agent Collins?” he asked, not too sure he could believe this woman was the one Fury just described.

She looked him up and down, and not in the usual way women did. Steve tensed under her gaze as if he would have to fight. Her eyes held contempt or was it arrogance? Anger—yeah, he was sure he saw that. She turned her chair and stood slowly, and Clint and Nat shook their heads as she met Steve eye to eye. Yeah, she wore the heels, just to let him know she would match him toe to toe. Steve’s eyes widened slightly as she smirked, and he glanced down over her and back up.

“Yeah, Mr. Rogers. I am Agent Collins.” She folded her arms in front of her smirking defiantly.

Tony’s eyes bugged a little and looked at Fury again. “Really? Are you kidding me? How tall is she? Did you find her at a Victoria's Secret show?”

“Six foot, to be exact, Mr. Stark. I am no model. Just a soldier and agent.” She looked at him blandly, turning to look at him.

“Play nice, Brooke. You know it’s Captain Rogers.” Fury eyed her. Steve kind of stared; this is what the army was churning out now? She couldn’t be that lethal, could she?

Brooke exhaled heavily, looking at him then back to Rogers and held out her hand. “Captain, I am Agent Brooke Collins. Yes, I am thirty-one, and yes, I am highly trained in a lot of things. Not all of us are lucky enough to get super solider serum.” She grinned sarcastically at him.

Steve raised a brow at her. The woman had some bite to her, and she wasn’t overly fond of him. Yet, he trusted Fury. He took her hand and shook it. They were soft, yes, but well worn. She worked with her hands and her grip was firm. “Major Collins,” he said, tilting his head slightly. “From what I hear, you don’t need serum. Now do you?” He felt her arm tense and her hand tighten in his, her eyes narrowed as well.

“Oh, this is going to be fun.” Tony smirked watching the two amused.

“No, it’s going to be work.” Brooke let Steve go and grabbed her file, tossing it at the table. “Clint.” She smiled brightly and hugged him, which he returned.

“Hey lady, you doin’ ok?” he asked without giving away anything. He knew she didn’t want anyone knowing who already didn’t about her dad.

She smiled and nodded.

Steve took her in as she hugged Natasha as well. She had on a simple black jacket and tank top underneath and jeans that hugged her, but were modest and showed the long legs adorned with black heeled boots. The look was unassuming , comfortable and gave her mobility in case of a fight. She wasn’t wearing makeup but then he thought she was pretty without it. She wasn’t superficial or materialistic, it seemed. Her posture was straight, hands placed behind her back. Yeah, she was a soldier. He could almost guarantee she had a weapon hidden somewhere as well.

Fury took in their stance and smirked. “So, can you work together? I need you to be Roger’s partner and back up.”

Steve folded his arms, watching her. “I think we will be fine.”

Fury looked to Brooke. She nodded. “From what I am told, he has no libido. So, I am fine, no worries for me.” She saluted Fury with a wink.

Fury let his head fall and shook it. “Um, question.” Tony raised his hand as Fury left for them all to talk and Tony followed. “Why does he get the snarky Christie Brinkley and I get a computer?” The doors cut off the rest of the conversation.

Steve walked up to her as she spoke to Clint and Natasha. “Have we met before? You seem to not really care for me. That’s odd if we haven’t met.” Clint and Nat glanced at one another before saying goodbye so Brooke and Steve could talk.

Brooke looked him over and took a deep breath. “You're right, I don’t care for you. Be that as it may, you are a huge asset to S.H.I.E.L.D. and America. So, I will do all I can to have your back.” She folded her arms across her chest once again.

Steve narrowed his eyes at her but nodded. “Alright, I trust Fury. Let’s give it a shot.” He nodded as he spoke, agreeing with himself.

@thorne93 @pegasusdragontiger @magellan-88 @buckysforeverprincess @forever-trapped-in-my-dreams @emoryhemsworth @st-eve-barnes @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan @superfanficnatural

#Marvel Fanfic #Marvel #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers angst #steve rogers fanfiction #Steve rogers x OFC

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ejzah · 5 years ago

Text

A/N: Basically, this is just turning into Kensi and Deeks flirting on the job all day long.

***

The Agent and the Lawyer, Part 11

Kensi was about to lean back in for a second kiss, when she heard the sound of footsteps and Eric popped his head through the doorway a few seconds later. Deeks quickly moved away from her, running his hand through his hair in a falsely nonchalant way.

“Hey, Callen needs you, Kensi,” Eric said, jerking his thumb behind him. “Oh and Deeks, I almost have your ID ready. You can come by and grab it before you leave today.”

“Great, thanks.” Deeks said. “Nice shirt by the way. Are those cacti?” Eric plucked at his button down, which indeed featured tiny cartoonish cacti, and nodded enthusiastically.

“Yeah, it was limited edition. I think they sold out by now.”

“Aw, that’s too bad.” Deeks turned to Kensi. “Don’t you think I’d look great sporting a little desert greenery?”

“Actually, I think you’re both ridiculous and can’t that grown men would choose to around dressed like that,” Kensi said, purposely not looking at Deeks. Eric didn’t seem to notice the tension between them. “Did Callen say what he needs.”

“Something about a translation. He’s waiting for you in the bullpen.”

After Eric had left, she glanced at Deeks out of the corner of her eye. She wasn’t sure what she would have done if Eric hadn’t come along. Part of her was annoyed at the interruption and another, saner, part of her was infinitely grateful.

“That was close,” she told Deeks who shrugged.

“I thought you said Hetty wouldn’t have a problem with us having...whatever it is we have,” he said and Kensi sighed.

“Hetty might be pretty forgiving, but even she’s going to have a problem with us making out on the job.”

“So, what I’m getting from this conversation is that if Eric hadn’t interrupted us, we would be making out right about now.”

“Ok, that was not...” Kensi pressed her lips together and tried to fix Deeks with a no nonsense expression. It was hard with his teasing smirk. “Let’s just agree to try and stay professional while we’re here, ok?” she requested.

“Fine. I will try and be a professional, as hard as that is for me,” he agreed, but raised a finger dramatically. “However, I expect excessive amounts of making out later on to make up for this.”

“You are ridiculous.” Kensi gave him a shove and he let her push him across the room. “Now let me give you the rest of the tour before someone else comes looking for us.”

***

“Explain to me again why I have to complete firearms training,” Deeks said to Kensi. It was a few days since he’d officially accepted the liaison position and in that time he’d filled out numerous forms (some of which horrified the lawyer in him), been bored to death by agency policy videos, and received a mixture of helpful and not so helpful advice from Sam and Callen.

Kensi had been by his side through all of it, which was both comforting and distracting. They hadn’t really discussed “the kiss” at all and it was simmering between them.

“Hetty’s orders,” Kensi explained simply. He’d already learned that the majority of Hetty’s orders were followed without question.

“Yeah, but I’m just supposed to be consulting. There’s no reason why I would need to fire a gun.” He shifted the plastic safety goggles Kensi had given him, definitely stalling now.

Pushing them back into place, Kensi snapped a pair of noise cancelling headphones over his ears. She gave him a once over and then patted his hair back into place, rearranging his bangs over his forehead. She tilted her head, smirking at him.

“You look adorable. And you should know by now that Hetty always does things for a reason,” she said. Deeks didn’t hear Hetty come in behind them and jumped when she suddenly appeared near his arm. Most of the time he wasn’t fazed by her, but he was accustomed to her apparent ability to apparate.

“It never hurts to be prepared, Mr. Deeks,” she told him gravely.

“But...”

“You never know when you might find yourself in a dangerous situation that you need to fight your way out of.” She gestured to Kensi. “Ms. Blye, why don’t you give Deeks a demonstration?”

“Sure,” Kensi said, throwing him a smirk as she snapped on headphones and goggles. With a level of familiarity that was equally terrifying as it was hot, she removed her gun from the waistband of her pants, sighted the target and shot several times in quick succession.

She lowered the weapon with a mildly satisfied expression as they all studied the paper target, now riddled with holes.

“Hm, not my worst,” she commented with a shrug.

“You shot it in the groin,” he said, gesturing to the target, which now had a massive whole where its non-existent penis had once been. “Who aims for the groin? And why?”

“It’s always good to be prepared,” Kensi replied calmly.

“Ok, now your really scaring me.” Hetty removed the target, ignoring his reaction and nodding at it appreciatively.

“It’s also a good reminder to stay on Ms. Blye’s good side,” she added, giving Deeks a sideways glance.

“Is it too late to quit?” Deeks asked.

“Nonsense. Now enough stalling.” Hetty gestured for Deeks to step forward. “It’s your turn. Kensi will guide you through the process.”

If Kensi was surprised by Hetty’s order, she didn’t show it. She placed a Sig in front of him, not her own he noticed, and then folded her arms expectantly.

“What’s the first rule for firing a weapon?” she asked, reminding him of his 2nd grade teacher. Though he had been a lot less attractive than Kensi was.

“Aim for the groin?” he guessed. Kensi gave him an unamused smirk.

“Ha, very funny. Careful, or I might just practice on you.”

“Well, it’s seems you two have this handled,” Hetty said, clapping her hands together in a satisfied way. “I will be in my office if you need anything.”

Once she had left, Kensi picked up the Sig again and balanced it in the palm of her hand.

“Ok, since we’re starting at the beginning let’s talk about safety. The most important things to remember are to always keep a gun pointed in a safe direction, that’s usually the ground, keep the safety on, and don’t put your finger on the trigger unless you actually plan on shooting something. Or someone.”

“That’s it?” he asked, thinking that there should be far more rules for handling a dangerous weapon. Kensi shrugged.

“For now. As long as you don’t shoot yourself in the foot, I figure you’re on the right track,” she said.

“It worries me that I can’t tell if you’re joking right now.” Kensi didn’t respond to that, but held the gun out to him with the muzzle facing down.

“Now it’s time to talk about hold and stance.”

Keeping his arms crossed, Deeks eyes it dubiously.

“I told you I’m not a big fan of guns,” he reminded her.

“I’m not asking you to be friends with it, Deeks,” she said scathingly, offering it to him again.

“I think I’d rather-”

“Just take the damn gun, Deeks,” she snapped. Reluctantly, he reached out and gingerly grasped the grip. It felt heavy and foreign in his hand and he stared at it distastefully. Kensi was watching him avidly, but he didn’t try to hide his expression. “Great, you still didn’t shoot yourself.”

When Deeks didn’t laugh, she cleared her throat awkwardly and then nodded at the gun.

“Ok, using your dominant hand-so your right-hold the base of the gun like this.” She demonstrated with her own gun, creating a v-shape with her thumb and forefinger. “Then wrap the rest of your fingers around the front of the grip.”

Deeks followed her directions, a slightly heavy feeling growing in his stomach. He hadn’t held a gun in years, he’d seen plenty in court and evident, but never actually touched one. Although he definitely wasn’t enjoying the experience, it wasn’t quite as bad as he’d been expecting.

“Now wrap your non-dominant hand around the front of the grip and support your dominant hand,” Kensi continued, closely following his every move. After Deeks had copied her, she nodded. “Good, now we’ll work on your stance.”

“No, you’re holding your hands to low again,” Kensi said about 20 minutes later and Deeks dropped his arms, the weapon bouncing slightly against his thigh.

“Last time you said I was aiming to high,” Deeks pointed out. “You nitpicking isn’t helping.” Normally, he found Kensi’s dedication to detail to be an attractive quality. Right now it was just annoying.

“Just do what I say.” She gestured for him to turn around and Deeks sighed, adopting the pose she had taught him. Kensi made a frustrated noise almost immediately. “Hold still,” she ordered, coming up behind him. Deeks froze as she placed a hand under each arm and then nudged his left leg forward with her knee.

He could feel her warm breath on his neck, her torso just barely pressing against his back. It sent a shiver down his spine and a flurry of very work inappropriate images running through his head.

“If you wanted to cuddle, you could’ve just asked,” Deeks murmured, turning his head slightly so their faces were just a few inches away.

“Shut up,” Kensi said, her voice a little rougher than normal. She adjusted her arms again and then took a step back. “Ok, keep your arms at that level, sight your target and pull the trigger.”

Pulling in a shallow breath, Deeks slid his finger over the trigger, hesitating. Blocking out the wave of memories that came with holding a gun again, he squeezed the trigger. The bullet ripped a hole through the target’s shoulder, just inside the lines and he jerked at the kickback.

He glanced back at Kensi, whose eyes were on him rather than the target.

“Why don’t you like guns?” she asked quietly. It was a blunt and unexpected question.

“I just don’t,” he said shortly. “I’ve seen all the damage they cause when in the wrong people’s hands and I’d rather not be a part of it.” That was certainly true, even if it wasn’t exactly the answer to her question. Kensi squeezed his arm,her expression sympathetic.

“I’m sorry that this is difficult for you and I wish I could promise that you don’t have to touch one again, but I can’t. Hetty wants you to have firearms experience and a single shot isn’t going to cut it.”

He sighed heavily, tossing his head back.

“This is not what I expected when I signed on to a be a legal consultant.”

“What were you expecting?”

“A lot more arguing about chain of evidence, pissing Sam off by telling him all the laws he’s technically violating,” Deeks said, shrugging and Kensi smirked.

“Well, there’s still time for that.” She nudged his shoulder and suggested, “Why don’t we call it a day on the target practice? That’ll give you a little more time to get adjusted to the idea.”

Deeks gladly handed the gun over to Kensi who returned it to the armory while he hung up his goggles and headphones on the wall. Peering in the plexiglass window, he fluffed his hair, pulling a face.

“I think I have headphone hair,” he told Kensi as she walked back in.

“And how is that different from your normal hair?” she asked as he continued to fiddle with it. Giving up, he turned back to Kensi with a lofty expression.

“I will have you know that this look is carefully curated to appear disheveled and carefree.” Kensi snorted at that.

“Well, you’ve certainly got that part down. It’s very beach bum chic.” She cackled at her own joke.

“Actually, I call it “Styled by Pillow”,” he informed her. Tilting her head, Kensi reached out and ran her fingers through his bangs, rearranging them and then smoothed down the back. She paused, considered him again and nodded, apparently pleased with the result.

“Much better.”

“I thought we were supposed to remain professional,” he reminded her.

“I was just making sure you look presentable,” Kensi said. “I mean, do you really want Sam to see you looking like you just rolled out of bed?” It was a good excuse, but Deeks didn’t buy it.

“Or maybe you just can’t keep your hands off me.” Kensi’s mouth dropped open and she fumbled for words for a few seconds.

“That is not-that is not true. I can totally keep my hands off you.” She was so eager to prove him wrong, it was kind of adorable. Crossing his arms, he leaned close enough that he could whisper to her.

“I bet you can’t go the rest of the day without touching me at least once.”

“Oh I would totally win that bet,” she said scornfully. “You aren’t nearly as irresistible as you think you are.”

“Really? Then how about another wager. If you touch me at any point today, we actually go out on a date,” he suggested. “At a restaurant.”

“And if I win? Which I will.”

“I’ll have Alejandro’s delivered to your door for a week.”

“And what exactly in your depraved mind constitutes as touching?”

“Anything that doesn’t involve directly saving my life,” he decided.

“That is too good to pass up,” Kensi said happily as she pulled her phone from her pocket.

“You’re pretty sure of yourself,” Deeks said, smirking at her.

“That’s because I actually have an ounce of self-control.” She wiggled her phone at him. “And Eric says we have a case.”

Deeks chuckled as she sashayed out of the room, singing about all the tacos she would be eating. As much as he wanted to take Kensi out, he was going to enjoy watching her try to win. He didn’t plan to take it easy on her.

***

A/N: Deeks learning to shoot is partially inspired by a scene from the show Castle. And once again, I don’t know how to shoot a gun. I googled it. It’s probably inaccurate. You’d think after watching 11 seasons of a show, I might have picked something up, but I haven’t.

#ncis la fanfiction #marty deeks #kensi blye #hetty lange #eric beale #the agent and the lawyer #part 11 #au #ejzah fanfiction

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pettyprocrastination · 6 years ago

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I Don’t Think We’re On Earth-65 Anymore Cop!Frank Castle x Spider! Reader

@wolfmothar @marvelobsessedteen @majorcdanvers @jarvis-ismy-copilot

Summary: Jitterbug learns more about the harsh anti-hero from this universe.

Chapter Twelve

“So, you're from another dimension?”

Frank had seated himself on an empty crate and watched the woman slowly examine the inside of the tarnished tech. When she began to work Matt had gone out to guard the building for cops and Frank asked if she needed any help. After seeing her “glitch” as she put it, he got protective and antsy, wanting to do what he could to keep her from harm's way.

“Sure am.”

“And what’s your name?”

She didn’t look away from her work to answer his interrogation. “Jitterbug.”

He raised a brow. “Certainly leaning into the gimmick, aren’t ya?”

She snorted and dropped the tools in her hand. “Oh I’m sorry. I should have picked something way more subtle, like The Punisher.” The man fell silent and she sent him a smug grin over her shoulder. “Nice vest by the way. Really gets your hot topic aesthetic across.”

Frank cracked a smile. He had a pretty smile, it reminded her of when her Frank would have his kids stop by the precinct.

She ignored the way the term Her Frank made her stomach twist into knots.

“I guess you got me there mam.” A silence lulled over the two as she worked. The Stark-tech was salvageable enough and if she worked hard then maybe she could get home. But the real question was whether she had time before her body disappeared into a scattered pile of molecules.

“So youre the uh, Spider-Man in your universe? What’s with the color scheme, somebody already snag up red and blue?” She could hear him smile at his dumb joke.

“Says the guy wearing all black.”

“Touche.”

Frank left his spot and walked over to her, sitting on the edge of the table as she worked.

“Red told me you're real fast.”

“That’s an understatement but okay.”

He chuckled at her boast. She was certainly confident. “Alright then, so why aren’t you using that spider-speed right now?”

“Going fast can be..too much sometimes.” She never took her eyes off of her work as she spoke, her hands moved fluidly along the machinery. Frank was impressed. “It can cause me to miss things, and right now there's zero margin for error.”

“Well, anything I can do?” She looked over and saw the concern on his face. She couldn’t help but laugh.

Frank scrunched up his brows. “What’s got you gigglin’?”

“Nothing I just-” She remembered her Frank having the same look on his face whenever she charged off to save the day. Granted his was accompanied by pulling his hair and shouting after her, but it was the same look of “Please don’t die” that she had learned to appreciate. “I can’t believe how different you two are, but still so damn similar.” She went back to her work. “It’s crazy.”

“Who, me and Red?”

“No. You and my Frank.”

The vigilante raised a brow. “Your Frank?”

“Yeah.” She paused for a moment and realized what her words meant. “I mean Frank from my dimension! Not my Frank as in my my Frank. Just, the Frank I know. You know?”

“Uh hu.”

“Stop that.” He laughed from behind her.

“Stop what?”

“You’re smug, I can hear it.”

He leaned against the table and shrugged. “Naw, just curious is all.”

“Curious of what exactly?”

She should be working. She really should. But seeing his cocky stance and taunting smirk, she couldn’t help but humour him.

It was almost like talking to her Frank-the Frank from her universe. Constantly snipping at one another but knowing that if shit hit the fan, they had each other's backs.

“What I’m like.” He explained. “Am I super hero like you? Spandex and all?”

She snorted into her hand. “God no! You hate heroes. Barely tolerate me to begin with.”

“That so Bug?”

She smiled. Even in a different username she still had that stupid nickname.

“You're a cop, actually.”

Frank scoffed pushed himself off of the table. “Get outta here.”

“No really! You're a real good one too, leader of the special crimes task force and everything. Bit of a hard-ass though.” She didn’t tell him that she and Gwen secretly called him Captain Tight-ass behind his back. Or the fact that she thought he actually had a pretty nice ass.

That little tidbit would just stay with her.

“Me as a cop?” He shook his head and smiled. “Hm, yeah that’ll be the day.”

She turned back to her work with a shrug. Thank God for whatever all powerful being was watching over her, because she had all the right tech laid in front of her to get it done. “Your kids really seem to get a kick out of it.”

Frank’s head shot up like he had been slapped. “What?”

“Yeah. I've seen ‘em visit you at the precinct before. It’s real cute.”

“My kids are alive?”

Jitterbug froze. “Of course they are. Why wouldn’t-” She turned to the man and what she saw shattered her heart. The once big and harsh hero turned small. His eyes wide and teary, broad shoulders sunk in and he just stared at her in shock. She didn’t know anything about this Frank Castle besides his use of guns and odd attire, she had been completely in the dark that his family had been massacred until that very moment. “Oh, fuck. Frank- I. I didn’t know I’m so sorry.”

“My wife.” His hand shot out and gripped her wrist, tugging her close. “My wife alive?”

“Yeah.” Jitterbug assured him. “Your entire family is. You-you had two kids, right?” Jitterbug prayed to God he did. She couldn’t just get his hopes up like that.

“That’s right. I did, little Lisa and-and Frank Jr.” He smiled through the tears and laughed.”My precious babies are alive?”

Jitterbug bit back her own tears. “Yeah, they're all alive Frank but,” She remembered overhearing some cop talking about their captain and the divorce he was going through. It had been a civil affair from what she heard. That they worked better as friends than lovers, and stayed family with no bad blood. But she didn’t think he’d understand that.

“But what?” His grip on her hand turned iron hard. “They hurt?”

“No!” She laid her hand on his chest in reassurance. “They're safe but, not,” She couldn’t look him in the eyes. To let him know his entire family was alive, but not happily married would surely break him.“-Not with you, Frank.”

He frowned. “The hell does that mean? Not with me? They-they missin’ Jitterbug? Is that what you're telling me? You tellin’ me that-”

“You got a divorce, Frank.”

He let go of her and fell back into his chair.

She took a cautious step toward the silent vigilante.

“Listen, it’s not that bad I-”

She jumped in surprise as he began to laugh. A loud, howling, belly-shaking laugh.

“Frank.” Her voice was a meak whisper, “It’s okay I-”

“Even when they're alive,” She could see the tears streaming down his face as he laughed at the bitter irony of it all. “I can’t be with them. Fuckin’ christ! Show me the irony in that, right?” His laughter slowly melted into silent sobs, each shaking his body as he mourned a new loss of his family. A sick twisted joke by God no doubt.

Frank Castle. A man destined to be alone, no matter what dimension or universe.

Jitterbug’s one way home was forgotten as she wrapped her arms around the larger man. He didn’t push her attempt of comfort away, he just stood still as she laid her head on his.

“If it’s any comfort. They really do love you.” It was a weak attempt to help him, but she honestly had no idea what to do in this situation. Her Frank never showed any emotion besides annoyance and concern.

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah thanks.”

“No really. You uh, you take them for rides in your car. Pick ‘em up from school like that and everything.” She smiled at the memory. She just stopped a robbery when she saw captain tightass himself drive up to a middle school in his squad car, loudly announcing for Lisa and Frank castle Jr. to come out with their hands up ready for a hug.

“They like it?”

She snorted. “God no! Theyre thirteen year olds, they get all red and embarrassed and pretend you don’t exist.”

“Yeah. I can see that.” He chuckled at the image. Surely Frank Jr. would stomp right by him into the car, grumbling about how he was the worst. Lisa would be embarrassed as well, but her smile would break through at the sight of her dad.

“You're such a dork.” She’d huff as he gave her a big hug.

“You know it sweetheart.”

“They really love you frank.” He looked at Jitterbug. She was kneeled in front of him, hands on his shoulder as she looked into his eyes. Her eyes were big and brown, filled with worry.

For a moment she looked like Maria.

“They're safe, Frank. Safe and happy and loved.” He blinked the image away. Christ, even her voice. So soft and cautious, like speaking to a frightened deer. It was just how his wife spoke when he first got home, nervous but caring. “That’s all you could want for them man. Believe me.”

This wasn’t Maria. She isn’t Maria. This was a completely different woman. One with a head of thick curls and the ability to shoot webs from her goddamn wrists. One from another universe, no connection to his loving wife and kids besides knowing his police officer counterpart.

Nonetheless. She had the ability to calm the caged beast, something he hadn’t felt since his wife’s sweet voice would anchor him to reality in his worst moments. Before it all turned to shit.

The moment was broken up when Matt walked into the building and cleared his throat. “Am I interrupting something?”

Jitterbug looked at him, then back at Frank. Surely it seemed...intimate. She cleared her throat and got up, groaning as she did. She always did have bad knees.

“Just swappin’ stories Devil-Dude. What’s up?”

“We got people coming, cops from the sound of it.”

“But I need more time.” She was nowhere near done and still had to test it to even see if it would work.

Frank gripped her arm. “It won’t be done at all if the cops catch us at the scene of the crime.”

“But what if-” She fell into his chest as she glitched once more, gripping his vest and shouting out in pain before she stabilized again. “Son of a bitch that smarts!”

He looked toward Daredevil, worry evident on his face. “Red we gotta get her out of here. Don’t think cops will see being from another dimension as a good alibi.”

She pushed herself away from Frank, pacing back and forth before groaning. “Fine!” Jitterbug webbed up her work from the last hour into a little white cocoon. She pointed a finger at Matt. “We’ll meet back up at your house and pray I can get this technological jigsaw puzzle working before my atoms start sizzling like an egg in a goddamn frying pan!” She shot a web to the ceiling, pulling her up and swinging out of an open window and sailing into the night sky.

A police siren alerted the two men to the cops presence, sending them sprinting out the back door and down an alley.

“You keep some weird company red.”

“I’ve started to notice.”

Another chapter! Woo!! I’m doing some one shot fics spinning off of this whole story about frank and jitterbug because i love my two crazy kids!! Anyways my inbox is open and it is ALWAYS open for frank and jitterbug babes. Have a lovely night!<3

#frank castle #frank castle imagine #frank castle x reader #frank castle headcanons #punisher #the punisher #punisher imagine #punisher x reader #idtwoe65a #jitterbug

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antivancoffeelover · 6 years ago

Note

I have a genuine question. How often do you actually deal with antis? I've been following you for a bit now and it seems every so often you bring up antis. I've certainly kept my interest about thorki shut and locked away in a box from my friends for the simple fact that all of them think it's incest. It's not an easy topic of conversation but you just seem to handle all the antis so well? Also on an off note about beast!Thor, his favorite pass time must just be rutting into Loki 24/7 🤔

when someone tells you that you're romanticizing abuse [bc i made a stockholm moodboard for a fic] I don't know what I'm supposed to say other than I don't condone it but I write about it? Is writing about abusive relationships bad in writing??? you're the only person i ask for advice so thank you for anything in advance

i’m honestly really glad you came to me. i really do like discussing this topic in this kind of way bc i’ll never reblog an anti or answer an anti ask. even if you’re arguing against them, i don’t think it’s worth it to argue against them if it means also spreading what they’re saying

the basic premise of all anti behavior and ideology is censorship. that’s all it is.

“i don’t like this topic, you need to stop writing it and making art for it. if you don’t stop there will be consequences.”

that is censorship and that is the kind of shit fandom has had to fight ever since there’s been fandom. women, poc, lgbt+ folks have been dealing with people telling us what we can and can’t write and enjoy for... well, probably forever. but we’re still here, creating the kind of content we want to see and indulge in.

as far as how to deal with antis, my advice is to ignore, ignore, ignore. they want what any bully wants: attention

you stop paying attention, you stop giving them time they don’t deserve from you, they’ll die off. there’s no point in fighting them directly. produce the content you want to see and enjoy what you want to enjoy. drown them out. you don’t owe them a response just because they come to you. they don’t have any qualms about being rude to you, so be rude back and just ignore them. i love blocking antis, personally. take out the garbage, y’know?

antis use the words ship and support as synonyms because they think that shipping is some radical call to action for lgbt rep instead of entertainment

shipping is not activism. shipping is about entertainment and enjoyment, nothing more

so this is why i have this very blasé attitude about antis. i just don’t give a fuck about them beyond making posts trashing their idiocy. because that’s what it is. it’s idiocy, but going deeper it’s puritanism at its finest. antis use fox news scare tactic logic under the guise of some pseudo feminist agenda because they don’t understand and don’t want to understand that enjoying dark fiction as entertainment isn’t equivalent to some greater moral stance

they use the same argument about shipping and fanfiction that WASP moms use against video games and loud music: that enjoying and consuming it will make you think it’s normal and there’s nothing wrong with it irl

okay, well, vlad the impaler never played CoD or far cry and caligula never watched hentai but we know why i’m bringing them up in this context without even heading over to wikipedia, don’t we?

they use the words abuse and pedophilia waaaaaayy too liberally and they’re doing more harm than good because they’re twisting and warping words that should have very specific meanings by using them so goddamn vaguely and irresponsibly

my own personal theory is that these people are terrified that if they don’t yell in opposition to these topics 24/7 and actively attack content creators that they’d probably enjoy it, and they’ve been so programmed by the echo chamber of tumblr and twitter that they think this means they’re bad people.

spoiler alert: that’s not what it means

i literally watched a circle jerk on twitter where screenshots of some mafia starker au got tweeted and retweeted w/ pictures of someone pouring bleach into cereal and people had asked to see more of the post. if you really don’t like something, you shouldn’t hate-read about it. it’s not productive, it does more harm than good if that’s the actual issue rather than some reverse psychology-style enjoyment they’re probably getting out of it.

they claim to hate this shit so much, but they’re reading hundreds and thousands of words and putting these images in their heads of their own free will. i don’t do that with shit i genuinely dislike. i avoid it.

i see antis say they enjoy thorki fanart because they think it’s cute, then they see it’s tagged thorki and they have an over the top reaction because the nature of anti ideology states you should never enjoy something like that, so if you do then you have to make the excuse of ignorance to prove that you’re still innocent and pure. enjoyment is apologism to them because they aren’t content to simply attack fan creators, they want to try and drive away the people who consume our art as well because they know you’re the cornerstone of fandom. consumers are why creators create. yeah, i write because i enjoy it, but i also write to connect to my readers and have people commenting on my fics when they like them.

it’s also worth noting that antis only ever talk about shipping. they only talk about sexual and romantic ships. i’ve never seen an anti talk about (often extreme) levels of violence in canon source material for the ships and characters they want to froth at the mouth over.

seeing someone bleed out and choking on their own blood after being stabbed or shot or bludgeoned? meh

seeing a character who was once a child have a sexual thought about a character who was also once a child and is also their close friend? omg why are we trying to make fandom unsafe for people?

personally, i’ve also noticed that fandoms with darker canon material tend to have more chill fandoms most of the time. i think it also depends on the average age in a given fandom. there’s a major difference between fannibals and steven universe fans, let’s just say that.

creating a moodboard for a dark fic is not “romanticizing abuse” and at this point antis honestly have no fucking idea what that phrase is. they use those words the way a bored CEO uses social media buzzwords and hashtags in a staff meeting

if antis want to see true romanticizing of abuse then they can go to serial killer thirst tags and spot the fucking differences between shippers and people who forget that ted bundy was weak, flaccid, cowardly piece of shit

writing something dark or violent or whatever else and condoning the act or doing the act are different. this is why stephen king isn’t under government surveillance or in prison.

make no mistake, this anti shit only applies to fandom. they’re attacking creators here because creators out at the professional levels don’t give a fuck. they’ve tried, and they’ve failed.

creators at the professional level understand something antis don’t: that being able to reconcile your enjoyment of dark media can be a sign of emotional intelligence and good emotional health. it’s cathartic. it’s allowed to be cathartic.

the most common consumers of dark fiction are members of minority communities and people who’ve been emotionally and/or sexually repressed for one reason or another.

antis want to say that fiction doesn’t exist in a vacuum and they are 100% correct! because writing fanfiction and original fiction that relates to parts of my life that nearly killed me gives me control over something that was beyond me in the original context. writing about fucked up codependent, violent romance allows me to process my shit in a way that’s healthy and produces something fun and enjoyable.

my therapist knows i ship thorki, she knows i write thorki. i’ve had her read pieces of fanfiction i’ve written in addition to pieces of original fiction. y’know what she said? “wow, baylen, that’s vivid. you have a way with words!”

i read her a line out of smart boy and told her what the story was about and this trained professional said “well it’s a productive way to process some emotion that you clearly need to let out”

but you know what? if someone doesn’t have the trauma i have? let them write it, too! let them create and enjoy the fictional content they want! more cake, y’all!

finally getting around to one of the first parts of your ask, lol. thorki is incest. thor and loki are brothers. they were raised believing they were blood brothers, even. loki being adopted doesn’t change a thousand years of personal history where thor looked at loki and thought that they came out of the same woman, y’know?

that’s his brother and in the comics his attachment to loki is even more intense. the mcu nerfed that shit. loki’s life has been intrinsically tied to thor’s ability to feel a full sense of joy.

enjoying an incest ship isn’t some sign of moral depravity. writing abusive relationships isn’t bad. gone girl was made into an award winning movie. art should look like life, and sometimes life fucking sucks. dark stories, sad stories, fucked up holy shit idk if i can go to sleep after i read this stories exist for a reason. we need them. we have to have an outlet for our frustration, our anger, and especially our fear.

so which is the healthier option of these

to write up a piece of fanfiction where two siblings are in love in a way that might be cute and soft or might be destructive, depending on your mood?

attacking strangers you don’t know online and threatening violence against anyone who doesn’t think like you do?

i know what kind of person i want to be.

ship and let ship, thanks for reading my doctoral thesis office hours are always

#anon #baylen chats

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squiddybeifong · 6 years ago

Text

A Page Turner

Fun fact: if you go to @ravensflockofrobins and search Bette’s name, there’s one (1) post at the time I’m posting this. And it’s not even a shippy thing rip this drowning paper boat

She didn’t know what compelled her to take a quick vacation, exactly.

Maybe it was the lack of crime. Maybe it was the disgustingly scorching heat that summer brought. Maybe it was that she needed a break before she accidentally zapped the TV and the horrid romance movie that Starfire was playing.

Whatever the reason, Raven made up her mind. opened her eyes and moved Silkie off her lap, teleporting to her room. She considered her options and started a particular spell, one that she’d admittedly used many times before. One of the few (very few, incredibly miniscule) perks of being Trigon’s daughter: interdimensional travel.

Sliding through the dimensions as easily as flipping pages of a book, a particular timeline called to her. It smelled of bookstores and crumpled daisies and Raven blinked as she stepped into this particular universe.

The Golden Age, she reminded herself, taking in the not-so-golden scenery around her. The world around her was the sheer definition of nostalgia: the colors muted in the most charming of ways, the whimsy of the backgrounds (she simply took the buildings fading into space at the edges as a perk), the blocked off rectangles where additions would be written.

Surely more of a comic book feel than the animated life she knew, but it felt right.

What didn’t feel right was the lack of yellow. Sure, some of the stores had signs with bold letters the color of pineapple flesh. And, yeah, the lemon paint job on some of the cars was impressive. But aside from the sprinkling of pollen from the just barely blooming flowers, Golden Age Gotham wasn’t the most golden of scenes.

Honestly, with such a heavy title this ‘golden age’ was falling flat.

Raven pulled her cloak around herself and sunk into the shadows, casually setting out to explore. She avoided the areas she already knew and delved into the thick of the city, grateful that their emotions didn’t press on her as strongly as her own dimension’s did. Food vendors, students clamoring on the sidewalks as they got the most of that wonderful time between school being let out and their parents calling them in for dinner, even some rats who scurried out from the sewers, all but sunbathing as they dragged dropped pieces of food and cigarette buds back to their hovels.

Not too different from the Gotham Raven knew, but she still stayed hidden, watching all that she could. A pout involuntarily curled her lips at the sight of her favorite pretzel food-truck, replaced with a dual newspaper and ‘shoe polishing on the go!’ stand.

There was a simultaneous groan from all the kids as a clock rang, their disappointment mingling with the adults’ sighs of relief.

Raven felt the muted mix of their emotions, her lips quirking up at how similar people were in their complaints, dimensionally different or not: “Man I can’t wait to get home,” a mustached man breathed as he observed his freshly polished loafers and tucked the afternoon paper under his arm; “What? You’re betting on the Yankees? Get outta here, ya freakin’ jag!” an incredulous teen cried at his friend, shoving his shoulder in horrified disbelief; “I swear, Debbie, all he ever says is ‘Aspic’s lookin’ good as you.’ Not tasty, or even pretty, but good! That carrot cake looks good but my aspics are gorgeous. The nerve of that man!” a big-haired woman bemoaned to her pencil skirt-clad companion.

Raven’s head tilted in confusion; what was aspic?

Before she could dwell on whatever food trends she obviously wasn’t privy to, the Bat symbol lit up the sky. At its appearance the crowd seemed to hustle home even quicker, the conversations muting to a murmur as the clouds darkened over Gotham.

The symbol was bright against the sky; one flicker, only a simple fix if this dimension was the same as her home. Raven hummed at the sight and melted even further into the inked on shadows, following the panels as she landed just beyond a bank.

An explosion sounded halfway across the city.

Half of the officers hesitated and the other half jumped into their cruisers, speeding towards the pillar of smoke. The rest glanced among themselves and followed. Raven frowned at them; it was probably a diversion.

Sure enough, she felt the giddy nerves of the bank robbers inside a few seconds later. The Titan laid her cheek in her fist and merely watched as they scrambled about, her head turning as she felt Batman’s unmistakable aura enter the page. A brow raised at the youth of his visible face, then her eyes widened to a comical size.

Oh. Oh.

The demoness froze in her spot, watching as Batman went gliding over the rooftops. But Robin wasn’t by his side. Neither was either of the Batgirls that she knew. No, this one must have been one she’d never met. Surprisingly, she didn’t display the Bat symbol on her chest at all; in fact, her crimsons and emeralds were a stark contrast to the rest of the comic, but her fit was odd.

Not quite made for being Batgirl, but inexplicably belonging in this golden age. How odd.

But her hair…

Raven swallowed the air in her throat. Well, that certainly answered why this place was the golden age.

Admonishing herself at the beginnings of a schoolyard crush that she could feel starting, Raven shifted in her spot. This wasn’t her dimension, she could potentially indulge with screwing everything up, right?

So, despite wanting to keep a low profile as she watched them fight, the empath turned into a bird and phased in just behind them, watching as this Batgirl fought. Not quite as endlessly sarcastic as Steph, not as eagerly critical as Babs, not as intense or skilled as Cass, but as excited as any Batgirl for the ability to fight alongside the Batman.

She didn’t even seemed fazed when bolded words popped up in unison with their punched and kicks. Both she and this Batman slid along the BAM!s, BIFF!s, POW!s, and WHAM!s that described their attacks without any hesitation, and within a few pages all the bank robbers were apprehended.

The blonde nodded at the police as they cuffed the men, tossing her pine cape over her shoulders. “Aw, too bad Robin missed this,” Batgirl grinned up at the cloaked vigilante, her bright smile making Raven’s heart flutter.

“We should team up more often, Batman!”

He glanced down at his sidekick for this fight, “Batwoman needs you far more than I do.”

The rejection didn’t deter her, although her grin did falter. Her hands went to her hips, “Then at least until Robin’s arm heals up. You shouldn’t have to fight alone.”

The dark knight’s head tilted in silent agreement.. “Hmmm, very well.” His masked eyes took in the groaning bodies and the sound of approaching police sirens, “Go continue patrol while I find out what these robbers know about that explosion.”

“On it!” She gave him a salute and sprinted off, a flash of blonde hair and christmas colors. She got a block away without trouble, her eyes glancing at the police as they zoomed by and her fingers curling into fists as she noted a bird following her.

Batgirl frowned. She zig-zagged through the panels but no amount of speed lines or ducking into the fading buildings stopped the little avian. So, the Gothamite dove just behind the city’s library. The secluded setting made the bird sloppy and the hero tossed two smoking batarangs, leaping and pinning the raven in place. There was a shift like one page flipping to the next and the bird’s eyes turned red. Batgirl gasped and jumped back, her fists up in a fighting stance as the bird morphed into a woman.

Blue eyes blinked, skeptical and amazed at the plum cloak and stunning lilac eyes. No, not a woman. A teenage girl, just about her own age. But Batgirl didn’t let this mystery girl’s looks perplex her for too long; she immediately sized Raven up, carefully watching how the shadows followed her every move.

This little excursion certainly wasn’t going to plan but something in the Gothamite’s face made the demoness decide to be honest, consequences be damned. A sigh escaped, then she awkwardly met the blonde’s gaze, “Uh, hello. I’m Raven.��

A stormy glare was her answer, then a terse introduction, “Bat-Girl.”

They both jumped as the Bat’s comm blared out. The empath let out a sigh, her words a bit strained, “I promise I’m not a threat.”

Bat-Girl narrowed her eyes and took out her comm. She kept the mystic out of the screen’s view as she nodded at Batman’s instructions. She noted how Raven paused as she quickly gave Batman her report, her stoic features blanching at the sound of the hero’s voice.

Raven bit back a shudder at how young the dark knight was, Certainly not quite to the point of being the gruff, sandpapery tough guy that he was in her dimension. For the first time Raven wondered if the Golden Age was on the same age basis as her reality was.

Bat-Girl signed off and tucked her comm away, muffling the one link back to the BatCave under three layers of pockets. Raven shook her head at the familiar sight, quietly musing to herself, “Figures Bruce would still be so obsessive this early on.”

She just barely dodged the kick Bat-Girl aimed her way, strands of black magic swirling around them and pinning the mortal to the bricks. Raven stayed out of arms’ reach and narrowed her eyes at the hero, trying not to spend any time taking too much stock in how defined her bare forearms were.

Refocusing, amethyst eyes searched the vigilante’s face. Raven crossed her arms over her chest, making sure that her magic didn’t squeeze the blonde to the point of discomfort. “Does Robin exist?”

A derisive snort was her answer, “You mean birds?”

“I mean Dick Grayson.”

Bat-Girl’s eyes glared behind her mask, the muscles in her arm twitching. Raven took that as an invitation to speak, “I’m a part of his team.”

“In the future?”

Raven shrugged, “Something like that.” She considered pulling back but the pulse of Bat-Girl’s emotions kept her close. The demoness raised a brow, “You don’t seem too surprised.”

“This is the golden age,” Her voice raised half a pitch as she let out an exasperated laugh, shifting under the tendril of magic pressed painfully snug to her throat. “We still get a narrator during our fights sometimes.”

She looked her animated visitor over, “Didn’t think Richie would team up with a…” She paused, taking a moment to consider just what kind of powers described Raven. “A spirit of some sort--no…” Her lips spread as she guessed, “A demon?”

“You’re perceptive.”

Blue eyes rolled but Bat-Girl didn’t stop the cocky grin from brightening her face, nonchalant to the hold she was in, “And you aren’t a threat.”

“I’m not.” The shadows that held her slunk away, “Dick and I are heroes in our dimension.”

She could feel the concern seeping out of the heroine, but still the blonde let out a sigh and rolled her fingers. If this Raven character really was a teammate of Richie’s, then perhaps she could let her guard down just a little. Although Batwoman and Batman would be disappointed in how quickly she was trusting this pretty face.

Bat-Girl rolled her jaw, “Well in this dimension I’m Bette. Bette Kane.”

Recognition lit up amethyst eyes but Raven didn’t speak and Bette didn’t question her. In fact, the not-yet retconned hero seemed to be opening up to the prospect of Raven being in her dimension, if just for a visit.

So the empath decided to test her luck. She jerked a thumb over her shoulder, “Would you mind showing me around, Bette? I’m not used to having to turn the page.”

“Pfft,” Bat-Girl snorted and Raven got the impression that she realized her words weren’t a metaphor. Instead, the teen readjusted her mask and motioned for Raven to follow, “Already got one sack of feathers to look after.”

“Well this one can take care of herself just fine.”

Her sleeved shoulders straightened at Raven’s words, affronted at the mere idea of not helping someone she could, “Doesn’t mean you should.”

“Spoken like a true bird, Miss Kane.”

Bette raised a brow, the movement moving her mask. But Raven didn’t explain and she shrugged, “Anywhere you want to see?”

“Anyplace with you there is fine with me.”

Bat-Girl ran a tongue over her teeth at the demon’s shameless attempt at flirting, trying and failing to keep a straight (hah!) face. An idea came to mind and her eyes lit up, watching as Raven’s gaze flicked to her mouth.

“You’re okay with other birds, right?”

When the superpowered teen merely shrugged she continued, “There’s a bunch of nests over on the gates around Wedgwood Museum. Gotham Academy’s music class has been holding their practices out in front.”

Raven smirked at that, “Taking advantage of tourist season?”

“Hey, tubas are expensive!” The blonde chuckled as she motioned for the Titan to follow her, the two of them easily gliding past the stiff backgrounds. Bette grinned at her flying guest as a flick of magic kept her grapple hook from falling out of a crumbling rooftop.

The sound of music got louder as they neared the gated house. Violet eyes shut as she tried to place where she’d heard that jazzy tune before, her attention on Bat-Girl as she murmured, “But they’ve really been getting better. Sometimes I like to listen in, feed some birds when crime is pretty low.”

Raven clicked her tongue at that. “Well I have some free time for a picnic, if you’d want.”

She glanced at Bette from the corner of her eye and felt that urge to be honest curl in her stomach again. A breath quickly escaped her before she was reminded of Batman’s instructions, “I read ahead. Apparently the robbers bought off the Riddler for a few of his bombs. Just a classic distraction case so they could get away clean.”

Bat-Girl tilted her head as Wedgwood came into view, lengthening her grappling hook until she skipped onto the ground. The two made their way towards the house in silence as Bette mused over her words, the mage’s shadows mingling with the tree’s shade to keep them from being spotted by any civilians.

“A picnic does sound nice,” Bette aimed a lazy smile Raven’s way, fiddling with the green triangles that adorned the ends of her sleeves. A gasp escaped as a disk of black magic appeared under her feet, lifting them up and levitating up to the large tree that hung just outside of Wedgewood’s gates.

Bat-Girl leaned against the mystic’s shoulder as they got settled just beyond the tree’s branches, hidden by the tulip tree’s waxy leaves. The tuba-heavy refrain started up again and Raven let herself get comfortable, clinging to the calming nerves that washed out of Bette. Her eyes slid open at the wave of nervousness and she turned to the Gothamite, “Is something wrong?”

She started to pull away, horrified that she might have made Bette uncomfortable. Bat-Girl’s hand wrapped around her wrist, preventing her from going too far. The blonde licked her lips, her words coming out faster than normal, “No, this is okay. But do you have to go after this?”

“Yeah, it’s probably getting late back at the Tower.” The cloaked teen sighed, sliding her hand down until her palm pressed against Bette’s. She weakly smiled, a lilt in her voice, “But I can always come back.”

Bette squeezed their hands, “Just to see me?”

“Just to see you.”

“Hmm,” Bat-Girl felt her smile widen as she guessed, “Perks of being a demon?”

She felt a heat curl up her face as Raven’s eyes flicked from her eyes to her lips and back again, “Something like that.”

#betterae #bette kane #raven #all the robraes #<-- means ALL of them #my writing #at first i was like.. fluff!!! then i was like no.. it’s e x p o s i t i o n time #i just?? i dont even know anymore. i’ll admit i have never read the golden age comics and i don’t know bette’s personality that well so im #wingin it. i feel like it came out pretty good tho #despite the fact that bette is bat-girl with a hypen. like none of the others separate it but she does so /shrug/#i assume the golden age was a few decades ago?? like big hair and yankees obv exist and hopefully aspics were still in season then #anyway PSA bc that sole pic of the batgirls really shows off bette’s arms. Like WOW dc we are sapphic af u can’t expect us not to notice #they went out of their way to put some definition in so appreciate it dammit. Actually you know what?#can i assign fanfic homework? go to randys robrae blog and search bette. go to the only post that pops up and look at those forearms #like holy sappho batman!!#visible arm strength AND a v neck?? sign rae tf up for krampus’ workshop bc there’s a goth elf that she’s got her eye on

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elizabethrobertajones · 7 years ago

Text

13x11 watching notes

I take back at least 5 of the recent snide comments about Sam's jacket. D:

... aaarghhh being non-US is a pain. For having to rely on downloads, anyway. Pretty much just that :P

well it's nearly 5 but I have a download which started with a bunch of static over Donna recap I don't need, and then in to a vampire recap...

I love that it shows us Dean being a vampire, and the time he was turned, just because it really ought to be more of a thing, even as a lighthearted "I got turned into a vampire once but I'm fine" like idk in 12x16 trying to reassure Claire or something :P Well, no, but you know what I mean. Typical Dean!girl complaint that they don't spend enough time harping on all the various traumatic things he's been through, even if some of them are 1 episode MotW things which don't earn mytharc "remember this?" nods 7 seasons later.

That was a very short recap, scratchy bit I skipped aside.

Well this is a horrifying open :D Nice serial killer basement you got there. The same playing music while doing something horrific thing as Athena in Davy's last episode, but she was just being an undertaker doing her job, and this is clearly the baddie of the week at work, with his serial killer wall and leaving blood splatters on all his dirty horrifying equipment.

Still, you gotta have music while you work.

I can't prove anything withthis level of CBA but the truck stop looks like the one Sam got snatched from in 2x21, just because it's small and single story and all. It's probably been a bunch of other things knowing this show, like, idk, 4x01 and 10x03 and no one's ever added it all up :P

Other thoughts: it's "manny's" but the Y is out turning it into "MANN 'S" which means once again I'm just gonna say toxic masculinity may be the bad guy and it's not exactly subtle :P

If this is Donna's niece I love her already because of her bumper stickers - anti-guns and "think globally act locally"... the anti-gun sentiment is especially amusing because of the jokes about Donna's arsenal... There's a social responsibility to actually advocate AGAINST guns, but the entire monster hunter subculture is indistinguishable from weirdoes in the woods with a stockpile of weapons, as Victor pointed out for us back in season freakin 2. As local law enforcement it's more likely Donna would have access to and comfort with weapons and an ideal scenario is that people know about monsters in general and are equipped to fight them, that is, the law enforcement like Jody and Donna and other hunter-cops who actually can turn it into a part of their regular job, with the emotional responsibility less about crazy revenge missions because no one else will do it... But you know, that and an anti-gun sentiment completely undermine the show's entire set up, which is why this show has a bizarre second face of being equally favourite of republicans and democrats, because the take-it-into-your-own-hands and collect guns for legitimate self-defence scenarios super appeals to them.

IRL there are no monsters except the ones we make, is all I'll say >.>

But in the context of the show, and especially as she's gonna get kidnapped, the fact this world has different rules aka legitimate danger to personal safety from monsters, means the show's social conscience is always going to be skewed and conflicted, and the fact she's against guns is potentially not going to look good given her status as an innocent civilian who has no idea of the irony of her stance being undermined by the existence of monsters and her aunt's legitimate giant gun and flamethrower collection being a lifesaving boon >.>

Oh, gross, close ups on eating, making it look really horrific, with red tomato soup (blood) and slicing into a steak with a squelch (self-explanatory).

This is gonna be an arty, violent, gross episode, isn't it? :P Mental note to try and catch the director. Because with this voice over about psalms or something there's definitely a sort of ~mood~ being set.

Christ, the population of this diner is basically the cast of The Adventure Zone's latest thing (which is playing some cryptids in the woods Supernatural D&D knock off literally called "Monster of the Week" and I'm gonna keep recommending it :P) - anyways if you've seen the fanart I've been reblogging there's literally a character people are headcanoning to look almost exactly like this person with the curly hair. Minus the bunny rabbit.

I like the Aliens Are Watching Us guy as well. There was a conspiracy guy in 12x15 (also Davy) so I guess he's not done with this concept of people enjoying the wacky stories without realising they're a shade off, Ronald Resnik style. (Perez is possibly competing to be the new Edlund, if Yockey is taking after Robbie in tone... aka gently petting existing characters on the head while introducing amazing one offs)

Anyways definitely feeling the vibe of Would Not Go In This Place Unless Truly Desperate they want us to get :P

Okay the cashier is super creepy up close, taking too much delight in his power over her ability to leave and his leisure to decide if her ID is valid or not and mocking her name.

(Pointing out that "Hanscum" is old English is asking us to go look it up and ponder how it relates, right?)

Oh boy and there's the request for her to smile that makes him a Grade A Creep whether he's the monster or not.

So many creepy trucks and vans, the "Jesus Saves" van looking anything but salvation, and probably ANOTHER fake out bad guy with the window washer, just here to scare her... Holding up the window washer thingy like an axe murderer.... Whether he is affiliated with the murderer or not, we get a lingering shot on him and a red STOP beside his head

Aaand someone slashed her tyre while she was there....

Oh no, caltrops. It's a trap :(

AAAAH scary masked guy!

not the same mask as in the promo pictures, just a bag over his head and goggles. This time referecing over to 13x05 and the plague doctor masks - the same huge dead eyed look they have without any of the style :P Theeemes for the season though.

Oh no, we start the episode on Sam trying to have a lie in... Already awake before his alarm then grumpily staying in bed another two and a half hours. #relatable

is he okay?

I mean I know in general he is Not Okay but I guess this is going to take some unpicking :P

...

OH NO he resisted PANCAKES.

Dean is up and about and enjoying being home with comforts around him, and Sam...

Is still in bed at 10. I may cry.

Oh thank god Donna is calling him to get him to move.

He's resisted food which means everyone narrowing their eyes at him not touching his lizard in 13x10 gets a cookie for pointing out his issues and how he handles them re: food. I know lethargy and not wanting to get out of bed are huge signs of depression but we rarely see that side of Sam manifest, and mostly just see him casually not eating or having much interest in food offered to him so I think it may be one of the first times the story is actually set up to genuinely call attention to him having a depression lie-in and refusing to come out and get pancakes that Dean is making to celebrate having a kitchen again.

Anyway, now we get Donna angst. Hearing her cry is the absolute worst.

It's such a sharp shock, tbh, to go from Wayward Sisters where she was shown off as the fun comic relief, and have her in the same coat and all suddenly speaking in such a tiny voice, and sitting helplessly in her great big D-TRAIN truck which was like the cavalry arriving and betraying a character that pretty much never DOESN'T want to make a fun entrance and lighten the mood...

Oh Donna. :(

(This is especially painful having watched all the WS episodes up to this point in the last few months)

"BREAKDOWN" appears over Donna pulled over to the side of the road, having her quiet breakdown over this, in an episode about serial killers engineering a breakdown on the side of the road, after we saw Sam having a silent breakdown this morning

Lovely.

Someone turned the angst dial all the way back up to 11 after the break it was taking.

The Impala rolls respectfully and quietly up to Donna.

She looks small :(

I'd guess she's apologising for calling them because it's pretty much The Next Day or thereabouts give or take driving time. Like, she'd be assuming they need their "Just back from a parallel universe" downtime.

Also because if we add any extra time instead of assuming it's been back to back since, like, 12x19, then the tension about Cas evaporates and they leave him for weeks.

So let's say they saw Donna like, 2 days ago max.

Oh no and she feels the guilt of inspiring her to go off on her adventure, because she had fun and talked about it. This is not how fault works, D-Train :( You did nothing wrong. It's the serial killer who took her, no one else.

Sam tells her to just focus on the case rather than think about it which is A+ coping methods and how you end up like how Sam was this morning

Ew, Doug is here

Oh no Dean is leaving Sam and Donna together. Dean, no, you're the chirpy pancake-making one today - you have to prop 'em up :P

Oh boy, this is the real FBI isn't it? They were in the promo...

"First off, I'm not your son." Dean straightening up and trying to fake-authority figure bluster past the confidence of real authority.

Doug diving in to rescue him may be the only way out he has?

"Company man. You should have told me." "Didn't get a chance."

I think Dean doesn't know the codes to pass as FBI with whatever they'd immediately say to identify themselves with casual ease - like in 12x06 where at the hunter party he doesn't know not to say wendigo? There's just some stuff he probably can't know without, like, literally being the FBI and having their specific swagger and way of talking.

e.g. I don't think Dean would say "Company man" without sounding like he got it from TV

Oh dear, he doesn't have the field office - yeah he just diiiives around that one.

Not here on official business, the victim is my cousin, I'm just here to get some answers.

Makes Donna on a close family level to them - or at least that she's another branch of the same family officially like what Doug might think watching this exchange, knowing Dean is not Donna's brother/husband/whatever else on the closest level would make them share a niece.

... Obviously also a lovely message about how Donna's business is family business for them

"You and Donna are related!?"

A COUPLE OF WEEKS AGO?

How long was Dean chilling and making pancakes and not calling Cas??? Asmodeus has HAD to have had an accidental "is Dean trying to sext Cas?" confusion over the texts he's been getting in this time period.

... the fact that Cas is back next episode and for all intents and purposes the promo pics and premise would make me think it's Buckleming but it's actually Yockey and BL have 13x13 is like the one thing keeping me going :P

I hope I have that the right way around... Literally panic-checking my 13x12 tag before I continue, just for Cas's sake

"Amanda Tapping directed the episode written by Steve Yockey" Mmmmmmmm

Okay, soul soothed, continuing to watch Dean blustering through pretending Wayward Sisters was a family reunion, which is also adorable that Donna used an emergency family reunion as the excuse to go.

Well at least the FBI already seem to have done most of the work with having a map with red string, names and other victims. This parallels directly to the serial killer's collection, the red string mirroring the blood splatters that guy was leaving on it.

Pretty much gonna assume Mr FBI is the serial killer, or else as much of a problem as him.

Donna looks so tiny in this room full of men.

"Troopers got an anonymous tip" aka there's something fishy about it being called in - if Mr FBI is the killer, it makes his job more effective than waiting around for someone to find the car so he can get his rocks off on chasing himself around in circles :P

Bleeech Doug putting a hand on Donna's back to reassure her.

If you hadn't gathered I'm super not a fan of Doug being back because I think it's ridiculous to inflict another Doug on Donna, and especially when you're doing a dark episode actually doing emotional stuff with her for once, it's dragging out a joke that was from her first episode when we didn't know anything else about her. Defining her by her Dougs

Oh yeah her niece is called Wendy - I think that name was made up for Peter Pan? Or else boosted its popularity through the stratosphere to the point that you can make up a fake fact that the name was invented in Peter Pan. Either way, Wendy Darling associations - growing up, but doing the gap year before college is essentially putting off becoming an adult aka having a Peter Pan year...

If Mr FBI is the serial killer, calling himself "the Butterfly" is the most inconspicuous way to go about it, than "yeah I named him myself he's The Badass Slaughter Man" :P

It makes sense, as well, the way he migrates for the winter and back.

The pause before describing what happens to the victims and Donna saying "go on", not wanting to be talked down to or having her feelings saved just because she's personally invested/female and prone to hysterics/both

He's been chasing him for TWELVE YEARS without catching him

Aka this is the easiest thing ever: just get paid to suck at doing your job to find yourself :P

If he turns out not to be the killer this was at least a hilarious diversion imagining this

Oooh they've re-used the yellow panels for the motel screen which have a serious pedigree of being the yellow panels in the motel - but almost always in crosses or inverted crosses in the empty spaces between them. The new pattern doesn't really have any negative space image I can see.

Dean knows trucker lingo.

I assume this is something you pick up if you literally grow up routinely visiting truck stops and being exposed to truckers as the other wandering workers you'd find on the road most often as a hunter.

There's plenty of headcanons out there about Dean and truckers and picking things up as well.

He calls Wendy "Alice in Wonderland" which might be trucker lingo but also overlaps with the whole Wendy Darling then when talking about Victorian kids literature

Sam says it's stupid to use the trucker radio and then starts trying to argue down the case because he wants to go home and not-sleep some more. (ARGH it being a couple of weeks means Sam has spent a couple of weeks not sleeping)

He has a point about being fugitives and wanting to stay off the radar, but I kinda think he's just finding reasons and yelling about them because he's irritable (depressed, angry, no sleep) and wants to stop even though he couldn't say no to Donna to start with, now they're here it's time to start looking for exit ramps.

Dean says "Dad used it all the time" re: the radio so we're also invoking his ghost with some point to make on top of everything else :P

"So what do you want to do? Call up Donna and say 'sorry about your niece, these things happen! Later!' and head back to the bunker to mope some more?"

OH NO I mean of course Dean has noticed but holy crap he's actually calling it out immediately.

(Reminds me of season 1 when they had so little else going on they were constantly side-eyeing each other's nightmares and grumpiness levels and commenting on it - Dean especially while trying to work out what was wrong with Sam before he came out with the visions thing.)

Anyways we have it established in the same episode that Dean calls it out that Sam is moping around the Bunker, which honestly should not impress me as much as it does, except that they have had a very passive-aggressive last... 11 years :P

Dean thinks it's weird that Sam got up at 10 because he's Mr Rise and Freakin' Shine, and tbh there were people last year bitching about Davy's characterisation of these guys, but he has a very very direct way of exposing them and picking which bits to show up to catch them at their worst angles and I LOVE IT from a meta perspective, but perhaps it comes off weird to people who aren't primed to think of the characters in certain ways. Especially that they may act out of their normal patterns. In 12x15 Dean started the episode disgustingly dirty and not caring about the car or their home environment, which is obviously out of character. Sam "sleeping in" is out of character but this time we see it unfold and at least immediately have a clue that it's because something is wrong and have it called out far more obviously than in 12x15 where it was left for us to interpret, and some people wildly missed the mark by assuming it was just bad characterisation, instead of identifying past characterisation and playing with it as an exposure of something new

Also... Dean made pancakes because he knew Sam was upset. My heart.

I mean Sam didn't go for them, but again, 13x05, Sam trying to make Dean feel better, 13x11, Dean trying to make Sam feel better.

Uhoh. I am scared to see what Dean lists... "I know you're in a dark place. We lost Jack, Mom is... I think about 'em too. All the time."

He doesn't know Caaaas is lost tooooooo

my heart.

ALSO it's dramatic irony again, as it was at the beginning of the season - Dean not knowing about Cas's current state, in which we are wildly more equipped to tell him how he should be feeling...

I mean look at bisexualdemondean's inbox over Christmas with all the jokey needling from people reminding him to check on Cas or coughing into their sleeves about seeing what Asmodeus is up to, and obviously demon!Dean casually being like pfft whatever and paying it no heed because the very in character RP is savvy to this plot that Dean has no clue and seems to think he has no reason to worry, even if he hasn't seen Cas in a while. The show is making the same reaction as the anons who want him to look and the show Dean is obviously completely in the dark, minus the wink wink fourth wall break from the blogger behind the demon!Dean blog that they know full well what the anons are implying because they've seen the show...

why am I using this as an example? Because the show's been incredible with the dramatic irony this season and as a way of creating an emotive response from us it can not be overlooked as an element of the season, but also has a knife edge from causing a BUNCH of wank from people who don't get it that this is something Dean doesn't know, that the pain of watching him not knowing all this stuff is basically permanently setting up SOMETHING at his expense this season and constantly using what he doesn't know about what's happening to Cas as the lever to boot.

And idk I find it totally fascinating, and awesome, and really clever, but when the show is super clever the fandom as a mass entity seems to struggle, for whatever reasons.

Non-judgementally, it's like that MIB meme about panicky mobs of people aka fandoms, just as a mass entity. If you're reading this I assume you've been reading the other posts I made per episode where I've talked about this literally every time it comes up so as individuals you're probably not part of this :P

Oh heck I should not have pressed play. "You can't let it eat you up. Look when I was broken up you were there for me. Well I'm here for you now."

I love SalmonDean in the exact right quantities and this is the sort of thing that makes my stomach hurt with affection for them

Dean gives Sam the same message of putting your head down and focussing on the work.

Repress repress repress!!!!!!!

I think the radio is going to put an end to this - yeah

lol Dean is midnight rider

sounds like a woman on the other end? the static makes it hard to tell but the dudes all laugh off Dean's request like it's a hook up request for Wendy or just don't care, then this woman radios in with info

score one vs toxic masculinity

"it's a date"

Dean says he'll go check it out and tells Sam to hang back, I think to enforce his obligation to Donna while also giving him a chance to rest until needed, which is a nice arrangement.

Sam does the "Look obviously I'm here for Donna" and doesn't have a "but" - though it's left hanging that he's struggling. Whatever else is going on, he is saying he doesn't intend to bail, despite his earlier attempt to argue to go home

aaaaand back to the serial killer basement.

More masks, and Wendy with her eyes covered too

Wendy screaming and getting screamed back at, and mocked silently with the serial killer miming tears at her - not using his voice, definitely falling into this persona of the monster with a disregard for her feelings... the "Boo hoo" attitude again takes me back to toxic masculinity as the bad guy

And he tells her to smile (again if it's the UFO creep from the Truck Stop although honestly he looked too small to be this guy) - if it's not him it's once again just men being creeps.

"Sorry I'm late," Sam says, showing up after reluctantly dragging himself into work

my heart is breaking for this guy

Donna has been handed credit card history for Wendy so they'll probably be at the creepy truck stop soon - if that's not where Dean arranged to go already (I didn't catch where they arranged to meet)

Huh, Mr FBI called in Bible Guy who I assume had the Jesus Saves van, of all the potential suspects in that truck stop.

He's suuuuper creepy but I assume at this point, probably not the bad guy, if he's already here 15 minutes in.

Although he did have Wendy's bloody shirt so who knows... Doesn't look good.

He's called Pastor Diamond something or other which goes with how there's a diamond motel neeext episode... or 13x13. Yeah. Anyways, theeemes

He's already called out for having a history of lewd behaviour, then we add being creepy enough to keep a bloody shirt even if he isn't the killer.

(I assume the killer wouldn't be dumb enough to be caught with it)

OMG Dean's dressed as a trucker.

Which is to say, his normal plaid with a puffy vest over it.

And yaaaay it is mowhawk lady from the diner aka one of the main characters from TAZ Amnesty I mean what no she isn't a magician with a bunny. I'm so confused :P

Oh no, she didn't stop to pick Wendy up, and she made excuses to herself for why she couldn't stop and help out another woman in distress, and now feels the Guilt. Everyone feels very bad about what happened to Wendy but it's not helping her >.>

Donna has to stop to gather herself when they pull out Wendy's picture and start talking about how great she is.

Pfft and then Diamond whatever fuckhead is super racist about a guy with a Mexican-sounding name. Well he may not be the serial killer to be brought in so early but this is very much a story of how all the humans can be monsters if they try hard enough.

(I love the "Humans are the real monsters" stories and this one is great because who can you trust in that scenario, and it focuses on all sorts of things, like the trucker's responsibility to help and being a bad Samaritan etc is a lesser evil and she's definitely one of the nicer-seeming people, because she said Manny's gives her the creeps as well so she's on our side about it, but at the same time she's still mixed in with the social responsibility for allowing evil to happen... this probably isn't social commentary about current America at allllll)

Dean enlists Doug's help which is... great... and Doug shows up trying to be all shady in a hooded coat. Donna's adapting to the grittiness well... Doug sticks out like a sore thumb

I like that Dean's already staking out Manny's anyways.

Ewwww Doug just saying "I love Donna" blech

He's asking if Donna will be okay after never seeing her sad before but almost the first proper interaction Dean had with Donna seeing her as more than local police but as a person was seeing her deep dark pit of sadness about how Doug1 treated her, and told her she deserves better. He KNOWS Donna has a lot of sadness and self-worth issues she doesn't let on, and if Doug doesn't know about them after a year, he's not someone Donna opens up to. She opened up to Jody immediately, in contrast :P

"Not sure what you mean."

Doug lists some really superficial things they talk about as talking about "everything"

"I think she's hiding something from me"

Dean is like... hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.

He tells Doug he's going to be there for Donna and to trust her.

Maybe I just really hate Doug more and more but Dean's starting to remind me of the Lester conversation in 10x02 but just in bafflement about how Doug could possibly ~get~ Donna.

Meanwhile Donna looks like she's about to school Pastor Dickhead

He's sitting there with the lighting giving him a halo while playing butter won't melt in his mouth

And she's playing friendly cute Donna facade while telling him he's gonna be had for dinner for 2 days in the cells while getting him to talk

She's awesome.

Well that's super suspicious that the cashier closed early and chased after Wendy... We're halfway through so allowing for monster nonsense to get added in...

At this point because it took so long to get to a download, my mum insisted we watch the episode together while we ate so I now know everything that happened. D:

Ugh creepy pastor. ugh. the least he deserves is being reduced to crying by Donna while interrogating him.

Mr Totally Not The Bad Guy being like "But the shiiiirt" and Sam and Donna are too smart to think it makes sense for a moment. Sam says almost exactly what I would have done - hurr blurr I evaded capture for 12 years but here I am with a bloody shirt in my van

I mean the pastor is probably someone they were sizing up as potential eating and just hadn't got around to him yet, so he also worked as a fall guy

Anyway blatant "but if it isn't him who is it" cut to the cashier

The plot makes mores sense with hindsight that he cracks and shows Dean the video because they'd recognised the Winchesters' car and so he wasn't just playing dumb that he happened to know the website but his albi was being over here while the live cutting up was going on but that he confidently had the reassurance they didn't know he was a vampire so he could go along with whatever while leading them into a trap, and thinking that his day ended with packing up bits of Winchesters to go.

The "how they do it in the FBI" pathetic slap and then the Look that Donna gives Dean and the shifty look he gives back before turning to Doug and giving him another "but yeah it is" nod to back it up is an amazing silent exchange

Whoops Doug finds out about monsters. Dean has another "awkward" look caught between them

At this point Wendy being auctioned is really just bait to make them come

I will forgive Sam for not being more suspicious of Mr FBI on account of him having a very bad day but the point where he shows up and helps them investigate and Sam, now knowing it's monsters, doesn't fob him off harder but just says "alright follow me" is where I call impaired judgement

The caged halo lights are back and the creepy mask guy doesn't get to stand under one but one is directly behind Wendy in the video clip of her screaming

The trick with the radio is good because it works on us too knowing the torture is currently going on with that music playing.

And then we go to Doug being roughed up and turned because it's time to do all the reveals now we have the fake out, so Sam gets knocked out and Doug left as a distraction and the cashier to hold them up.

Oops Doug is a vampire. Doug growling is weird

Pfft and he just immediately attacks Donna. Dean is very quick thinking to immediately grab dead man's blood as soon as things start going.

"Well thanks for making it easy for me."

The vampire comes back to gloat and tell Dean that Sam's been got.

I love that Donna has no patience and just shoots the guy's knee out because we need to sort things out and Dean's showy machete waving ways aren't her style :P

"No no no get further back. He's a big boy, we need a wiiiide lens" I know it's terrible but I laughed SO HARD

"Hell soon as I saw that fancy car I knew who you were"

... we do always say is it a good idea that they keep driving it around? no. but will they stop? Never. :P

"The Butterfly" giving Sam a rough estimate of how many monsters there are - 100s of thousands - says the ones Sam and Dean see are too mean or stupid to "pass" which does lend itself to a double-edged fear of every day people being monsters... I think the implication with a corrupt FBI guy and the monsters we see all being white peeps is not a racist implication but more commentary on society being awful and so on, and I think using the racist preacher as the absolute scum of humanity is a good way to avoid too much weird implications about monsters - the BMoL had that creepy Brexit parallel which sort of cast monsters as immigrants which of course, considering they might well eat people, wasn't the neatest message.

I think this is a bit more tuned to 2018 anyway :P My concerns about the social commentary from earlier have mostly evaporated.

He thinks he's saving good honest American lives by feeding only people who won't be missed to the monsters - and he mentioned that the Mexican guy had a family which means he WOULD be missed - he's just racist too.

He's good at the whole auction voice thing though.

They really toned down the vampire cure thing because Dean barfed his guts up with it and now he's letting Donna give Doug the cure in the car as they drive.

In the *car*

"Let's begin the auction for Sam Winchester's HEART"

lemme tell you, even coming in at like 500k that's still not as much as it's worth. That is a priceless artefact there.

I absolutely adore the "you had no idea your aunt could do that" fight sequence :D

Like, she knows Donna's a cop, but having her just bust in and kill the guy...

What an aunt.

"There are many pieces to Sam Winchester but only one heart"

Honestly, devoid of context, I wanna see that on like 8 different artsy Sam edits.

Fake out Sam getting shot. "Since Dean's out there, quick and dirty."

Not quick enough.

Sam having a "huh, I'm not dead," moment. After we see the close up gunshot and that's why Sam and "The Butterfly" were both down to their white shirts, because there's just a mo where we aren't sure which one of them we're seeing even though it was aimed at Sam's head so it's clear just from seeing a shot to the heart that it wasn't Sam.

Also he wouldn't just randomly die, I say in a season where Dean randomly died already :P

Dean does those quips just for Sammy's benefit

I think Donna and Doug maaay not have been dating but she kinda realised she might like him now they've had a sort of adventure together...

"I was a vampire!" "For a couple of hours"

Ah well, bye bye Doug, thanks for breaking Donna's heart, don't let the door hit you on the way out.

This was a bit drawn out but I think it was important for Donna even if Doug is really annoying so I don't like watching him struggle on screen.

I think Donna really hoped she'd found someone in the life

Sam just sees it as completely inevitable and good for Donna that she doesn't have someone she cares about in the firing line.

Ow.

Ow ow ow ow.

Oh Donna as well... :(

I'm just in so much pain for Sam and Donna. Dean needs to hug 'em both.

He just gives Donna the pat on the shoulder while she cries.

Buuut now she's Doug-free for Wayward Sisters, hurrah!

She and Jody can bond and discover something in each other they didn't even know they were missing :3

That Jody's name isn't "Doug" for starters.

Dean's still harping on what Sam said to Donna, both telling her to get used to having no one close to you and just in general, yikes it's never good to hear someone you care about talking that way about caring about people and he should know he's BEEN there.

This is like the dark opposite of 11x04's optimistic Sam and "someone in the life" stuff.

Sam angrily stands his ground because he's a grumpy goose today "Was I wrong?"

it seems like Kaia set off his latest mood but also in losing Jack in the process of looking for Mary, who, also, is still gone and not seen for weeks before that, presumed dead... I would guess the fact that he was miserable in The Bad Place was the start of this, before Kaia died, and losing her really just symbolised how shitty everything is, the cherry on top of losing all the people they care about over and over.

After Dean spent the first part of the season his terrible way, now Sam's got his overdue depression and breakdown (tiiitle drop) that has been lurking below the surface...

... if we're lucky, as Sam fans, this might not just be a one-episode thing but actually, like, something that's going to happen in an ongoing way for Sam??

Sam denies he's in a dark place because everything he's saying is true, but Sam normally does repress and get optimistic about finding ways to research their way out of whatever hole they get themselves into this time.

Which ain't healthy but is how Sam manages to skim over the top of being in a dark place most times, meaning this is really hitting him hard now.

He also mentions Cas in his list of having mom and cas back and helping jack, accidentally playing into the dramatic irony in another way, of not knowing Cas is currently in trouble now as well but still listing him among the ones they've lost and that he's lost hope over...

"This ends one way for us, Dean."

And with that, the ginormous, grimy, rusty cog behind the entire mechanism, finally clunks around a slot, turning it from Dean as the dying bloody mindset Winchester to Sam, for the first time in a long time, and in a very curious way that Dean, who states it all the time, is now forced to evaluate and to think, do I really agree with it? I say it all the time but WOAH THAT IS HORRIFYING TO HEAR COMING OUT OF SAMMY'S MOUTH WHAT THE HELL WHO BELIVES THAT?

I'M CARVING THAT FUCKER A SLICE OF THE APPLE PIE LIFE AND HE'S GONNA SHUT UP AND EAT HIS DAMN LIZARD. PIE. I MEANT PIE.

Anyway then we end of that awful shot of Sam from the outside of the impala looking in on him which just makes us feel helpless about not being able to hug him, in my scientific opinion of what that shot is implying.

#13x11 #season 13 spoilers #my stuff

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jimlingss · 8 years ago

Text

Date in a Box

Words: 9.7k Genre: Fluff. So much fluff.

Read more at Service Series

He called and you came running.

Knock Knock.

The door swings open; a boy dressed in a white shirt, blue jeans and timberlands greets you with frightened doe-eyes. “Are you-”

“Yes I am.” You push your way in, not having enough time to slip off your shoes politely. You take one quick scan of his apartment. “How much time do we have?”

“She’s coming in five minutes.” He says in alarm, scrambling to look at the clock.

“Are you paying cash or credit?” You hug the black duffle bag hanging off your shoulder closer to your body.

“I’ll pay credit.” He answers in a hurry.

You take out the payment terminal from your bag and as he scrambles for his wallet to swipe the card, you set everything down. “Your name is Jungkook?”

“Yes.” He confirms with a hard swallow. “Can you help?”

“I certainly can.” You smirk at him before crouching down and opening the bag. In one swift motion you drape a white tablecloth over the small table near his kitchen, popping the red wine and lighting a candle as a centerpiece. He watches with wide eyes, finished paying and handing you back the machine. You shove it back in the bag quickly, taking out the prepared plates of lemon pasta with medium rare seared steak.

“How?” He blinks twice at you in shock as you decorate the dinner table with the fine cuisine, ripping off the saran wrap covering the plates and throwing them back into your bag.

You smile proudly. “This is how we do business here. You don’t have to worry about a thing.” After a glance at him, you waste no time pulling out the clean wine glasses. “Can you do me a favour and drop down right now? I need you to do some push ups, jumping jacks and burpees.”

Jungkook frowns, utterly confused by your request but complied anyways, still panicking. He drops to the kitchen floor and begins doing multiple push-ups every second. “I brought a chocolate ganache cake for dessert.” You tell him, ripping away the saran wrap as you bring it to the counter.

One glance around the kitchen, you can already see the flaws in the plan or rather lack-of-flaws - it’s clean, too clean. You throw open every cabinet door until you find the pots and pans, taking out a few. He looks up in curiosity, still in stance for a push-up. “I’m going to make a tiny mess.”

There’s a silence as he continues, now moving onto burpees. “Alright. You’re the boss.”

You smirk at him, filling the bottom of a pot with water and leaving it on the turned-off stove. You place a pan in the sink after smearing butter all over it, dumping seasonings all over the counter while throwing rags near the on the floor and leaving utensils around. Of all things, you must say that you quite enjoy making a mess the most and by the time you’re finished, it looks like an absolute battlefield.

“Harder.” You turn around, eyes probing into Jungkook’s and he nods, intensely doing jumping jacks and huffing out. You dim the lights, making sure everything is in it’s perfect place and then there’s a-

Knock. Knock.

“She’s here.” Jungkook turns to you, frightened like a deer in headlights while panting for air. He’s a sweaty mess, droplets rolling down his forehead and exactly how you wanted it to be.

“One second.” You stop him, grabbing onto his forearm as his veins pulsate underneath your fingertips. You don’t dwell much before grabbing a small towel out of your bag and throwing it over his shoulder. Standing on the tips of your toes, you reach up and tangle your fingertips into his soft, black locks.

“Wha-”

You ruffle his hair up, making a big but sexy mess. “Act like you put a lot of effort into this. Good luck. I’ll find my own way out.” You step back, patting him on the shoulder. “If you work with us again and give us more time, the results will be even better. But thank you for calling our services, we hope to see you again.”

“Wait.” He grabs onto your arm with wide eyes, stopping you in your tracks. “What’s your name?”

You smirk, taking him in for a long moment - the first moment since you’ve arrived and when you’re finally able to breathe steady again. His chest is slightly heaving, still gasping for air as sweat rolls down his perfectly sculpted jaw. His hair is disheveled, towel over his broad shoulder but client or not, with his large eyes staring at you like that, you’ll have to admit that he’s pretty darn cute.

“Y/N.”

“Dammit. Dammit to all hell.”

You’re cursing your breath, looking around despite it being pitch black. It was perfect, everything was flawless up until the very last moment. When Jungkook turned around to open the door for his date, not making her wait a second longer, you were looking for a way to exit. Low and behold and purely from panic, now you were stuck in his closet.

You hesitantly reach over to the door knob, cracking it slowly open as to not make a sound. A beam of light shines through. “Did you hear that?” The girl tilts her head, looking around the apartment.

Jungkook nervously laughs. “Hear what?”

You cup a hand over your mouth, in awe at how the girl practically has a hawk’s hearing ability - you pray she doesn’t have hawk eyes either.

From where you were, you could see the kitchen and where the two were sitting at the table. The front door was impossible to get to, them being right in the way but your memory recalls noticing a fire escape when you came into the building. If only it were possible for you to somehow enter his bedroom….

“You’re a really good cook.” Her eyes light up, chewing the first bite. “Like...this is probably the most delicious pasta I’ve ever had in my entire life.”

He grins, taking a bite too and trying to downplay his reaction. It is very delicious. “You don’t have to say that.”

You snicker at how he takes credit for it all but you figure you’ll deliver the message to George if you ever get back to the office alive. George did have some type of way with food and being in the kitchen. “It looks like you put a lot of effort into it too.” She bites her lips in a wide smile, scanning the messy kitchen and his riled up hair.

“Ah...well...a little bit.” After your client responds, there’s complete silence, tense and awkward to the point where your toes curl together. She looks down at her food, takes another bite and then sips the wine. “So…” Jungkook clears his throat. “What are your plans in five years?”

You nearly choke on your own spit. What kind of question is that?!

Your palm slaps your forehead, wanting to curse out loud. After your beautiful set up and your huge efforts, he was going to mess it all up by running his stupid mouth off. “Ah well….” She wipes her lips with the tablecloth napkin. “I guess I’d like to continue with my career and-”

There’s no time to dwell on what a horrible conversationalist your client is or the new information on how terrible he is with dates - you need to find a way to escape or you’ll be spending all night in his closet or worse. You could get caught by his date or stuck listening to them go down on each other, though you’re doubtful of the latter since the date seems to be quickly falling south.

You back up in the closet, suddenly bumping into something hard and a few shoe boxes from the top shelf come tumbling down. “What was that?” She peers over and you curse underneath your breath, rubbing your sore crown. More importantly, you’re thankful that the closet is pitch dark and only a crack is open - she can’t see you even if she squinted.

“I-uh...I...I have a cat!” Jungkook raises his fingers, eyes lighting up with a horrendous excuse.

What was he going to do if she asked to see his non-existent cat?

As if you called it beforehand, she goes on to say- “Oh! Really? Can I see him?”

“Her.” He corrects with a stiff grin. “And um...she’s been a bit moody so...uh…..yeah.”

“Oh. Okay.” His date peels her eyes off from the closet and you breathe a sigh of relief.

“Do you like chocolate, Mina?” He changes the subject, looking up with doe eyes.

“I do.”

“I made some dessert.” He smiles. “Here come look.”

“O-oh, okay.” She gets up awkwardly from the table, the food still uneaten to follow Jungkook into the kitchen. You take it as your golden opportunity, a cue from him with their backs turned. For a moment, you swear Jungkook glances at you with a small smirk. “Wow. It really does look delicious.”

Mina upon hearing no response from her date, follows his line of sight to the closet but she finds him staring at nothing. “Is everything okay?”

“Hm? Oh yeah. I thought I saw my cat.”

You slip into Jungkook’s bedroom, glad that you still have your shoes on and duffle bag at your side. In one motion, you open his window and climb out onto the fire escape, running down the steps. You curse while climbing down the ladder, the duffle bag heavy on your shoulders. When you’re at a safe distance, you jump down completely, nearly busting your ankle. In the next heartbeat, you’re running down the street and disappearing as quickly as you came.

Date in a box. If you’re in a rush, if you’re in a hurry or if you’re terrible at dates like the rest of us, then we’re here to help you!

Supplying boxes since 1983, we provide you with everything you need for a flawless date! From food, champagne to even the music; we’ll give you everything you need and deliver in less than five minutes. Upgrade and we can personalize your date even more! Our workers are like friends, happy to assist or help you at any time, anywhere! Guaranteed 100%! Don’t be afraid!

Date in a box. Don’t fret, we’re here.

It’s a bright and sunny day, the sky void of clouds and a perfect afternoon to create a perfect date.

You were packing items into the box, cakes and champagnes, ready to go deliver them on your scooter but then you received a call. All it took was one week, the highest upgrade and a payment. The next thing you knew, you were pulling the entire crew out to the park.

“Glad to be working with you again, Mr. Jeon. You will definitely be satisfied with our services.” You give him a firm handshake, clipboard in your other hand and the pen tucked temporarily behind your ear. One scan of him from top to bottom puts a smirk on your face. “I’m glad you wore a suit like I asked.”

“Um...thanks.” He looks down nervously. “I pulled it out of the back of my closet.”

“Don’t worry. You look handsome.” You reassure with a nod, not missing his stunned expression on your compliment. His black suit was nothing out of the ordinary, rather typical and matched with a black tie but it hugged him tight, made his shoulders broder and he looked extraordinarily handsome, sharp and tall. It took a bit of effort and rationale to keep yourself from ogling.

“Last time you helped a lot…” He smiles nervously. “This time...it’s just..I…um...”

You pull the pen from behind your ear, scribbling some last minute notes down while nodding. “It’s alright. Many people come to us for help on several occasions. You don’t need to feel embarrassed. We’re here to help and guide you.”

Your eyes flicker to him with a small smile, aware of how terrible he is on dates but you’re not rude enough to say it and it’s not like he needs a jab to his already low confidence on wooing women. But you must admit - it’s sort of cute.

“Walk with me.” You begin and he stumbles a bit to catch up. “Correct me if I’m wrong but she is arriving in two hours?”

“Yes.”

“Alright. Rest assured.” You glance around at the park and he follows your line of sight. There are trees on both sides of the wide path, a bike lane and a clearing with a children’s playground. There are other people strolling about, walking their pets or taking a rest on the benches. It’s merely your average park but in your eyes, everything has already been laid to perfection.

There’s not a flaw in place.

“We have actors and actresses positioned in multiple areas, they’re part of my team. I’ll run through with you so that you’re not caught off guard but I’m letting you know now that there will be some things that I will not inform you about. It’s to keep you on your toes for the most natural reaction.”

He nods with a frown, trying to soak in all your words. “Actors?”

“Yes.” Your mouth is tight in a line, dead serious. “You’ll also be given an ear piece and I’ll be observing from a nearby distance, guiding you. Of course, all my words are just lines of advice but I know you requested from us the most help that can be given.” He nods. “You don’t have to worry about privacy, when I feel like it’s at a good point, I’ll disconnect.”

“O-okay.”

“Then shall we begin?” You stop, kitten heels clicking together and your clipboard held by your side.

“Begin?”

“A small test run.” You smile gently at his confusion.

“Alright.”

“A word of advice…” You mutter to him and he turns with wide-eyes. “Just keep calm.”

He nods and the both of you begin walking at the entrance of the city park; sounds of kids playing in the distance, cars driving past, some chatter blurring in the background and the birds chirping. Aside from that, there is complete silence between the both of you. “You can speak.” A tiny giggle slips through your lips as Jungkook looks at you.

“Oh! Uh..”

“Pretend we’re on a date.” You can’t help but grin at how disorganized he is.

“Oh okay.” He nods. “W-What are your plans in five years?”

“See.” You stop in your tracks, putting your hands on your hips and playfully tilting your head to one side. “That’s a horrible question!”

His eyes double in size. “Wait. What? Why?!”

“I don’t even know what I’m doing tomorrow! How am I supposed to know what I’m doing in five years.” You shake your head. “And if I knew, I doubt you’d want to hear me go on and on about things you don’t know about.”

Jungkook blinks. “I...someone asked me that once and I thought it was a pretty good ice-breaker.”

You smile. “Well, I’m telling you know that it’s a bad one.”

The both of you begin walking again. “Then what should I ask?”

“Hmm..” You hum for a second, looking at the office skyscrapers peeking out from above the trees. “What’s something you’re bad at?”

“Bad at?” He thinks, humming too.

A smile draws up on your lips and you nudge his shoulder. “What? Can’t think of anything?”

He grins, eyes crinkling with a tiny laugh. “To be honest...I can’t really think of anything.”

“Oh ho ho...cocky, aren’t you?” You playfully nudge him again and he laughs, shoulders easing. It feels a bit foreign to let your professional self go but you figure that Jungkook needs all the help he can get with this trial run. You have a feeling that if he relaxes, he’ll be a complete natural at charming girls.

“They used to call me golden in school.” He states as if he’s trying to be casual but you catch his side glance and the tiny smirk on his pillow lips.

You roll your eyes with a smile. “What about dating then?”

“Okay. I’m bad at dating.” Jungkook purses his lips together, admitting it with a tiny blush. “And maybe math and talking to girls in general.”

“There we go.” You grin.

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“What are you bad at?” He asks as if he’s genuinely curious.

“Dating too.” You answer with a sigh and hands behind your back.

He slightly frowns. “But you seem to know so much about it...”

“Doesn’t mean I’m not actually good at dating.” You shake your head.

Jungkook leans in, whispering next to your ear. “So, no boyfriend then?”

You giggle, feeling ticklish with his hot breath and he moves away with a huge smile a second later. “Smooth.” You nod, commemorating his boldness and how effortless the transition is. “And no unfortunately.”

“It’s not unfortunate at all.” He winks and you scoff, rolling your eyes.

“Are you sure you’re bad at dating? You seem to be pretty suave right now.” You cock your head to the side, the two of you still walking down the path together.

“It comes and goes.” He shrugs. “Sometimes I get too nervous.”

Before you can reply, you realize that you’ve completely lost track of the positioning and that you’ve nearly passed the first obstacle completely. “Excuse me!” An elderly lady from the flower stall stops you, panicking at how you almost walked past her. Jungkook innocently looks over as you stop in your tracks. “Would you like to buy flowers for your pretty girlfriend?”

“Oh.” He glances at you. “She’s not my-”

You frown, turning to him. “She works with us.”

“Oh.” He blinks at you. “So…”

You take his hand, holding it in yours while leading him to the stall. Jungkook is stunned but quickly follows. “When she calls out, take your date’s hand and buy her a bouquet of flowers. Don’t say that she’s not your girlfriend, just thank the old lady and tell her to keep the change.”

Jungkook nods, staring at the elderly lady who he can’t believe is actually part of this with you. He stares at her intently, wondering if it’s professional makeup or a mask that makes her look so old or if she’s actually that old.

The elderly lady smiles at him. “You and your girlfriend look so cute together.” She leaves the back of her stall and goes to the front, giving him a bouquet of red roses. “I think these suit the young lady the most. Red roses represent true love.”

He stiffly nods and you watch expectedly. He fumbles a bit but in less than a second, Jungkook takes out his wallet and forks over a bill. The elderly lady thanks him and begins to take out the correct amount of change. “Oh no. Just keep it.”

“Thank you so much dear.” She smiles.

Jungkook turns to you with the flowers, arm outstretched. “Here.”

“Don’t just say ‘here’.” You laugh, not being able to help it at how inexperienced he is. “Smile and tell her that they match her, that the flowers are as beautiful as she is.”

He nods and follows your directions, almost in a robotic voice with an inflexible smile. “They match you.” He clears his throat uncomfortably. “Uh...you’re as beaut..iful...as...beautiful as these flowers.”

You can’t help but burst in laughter again and he stares, gazing for a moment as if transfixed. You take the flowers from Jungkook’s hands with a tiny sigh. It would have to do for now. “Wait.” You put out your hand. “Don’t put away your wallet.”

The both of you begin walking down the path again, a few strides before you nudge him to the homeless man that’s sitting beneath the tree. “Fork over a few bills for him. It shows how kind and generous you are.”

“Is he-”

You already know what he’s going to ask. “Yup. He’s part of our team too.”

Jungkook shakes his head. “This is unbelievable.”

“Don’t worry. If any stranger gives him money, we return it.”

He looks at you. “You really have things planned down to the details, don’t you?”

You match his grin. “That’s how we do business here.”

He marches up to the man, giving him a few bills which he accepts gratefully. The stranger almost bursts into tears as he thanks Jungkook, making the latter man a bit surprised at how realistic all the acting is. The both of you continue on your walk and you glance at the time, realizing that it should be close to the end. “In two seconds, there will be a woman screaming and you have to catch her baby stroller. Don’t worry, the baby inside is a fake.”

“Wha-?!”

Right on cue, there’s a loud shriek that rips through the peacefulness. Several heads turn as the woman full on screams- “MY BABY!” -and exactly as you said, there’s a carriage barreling towards the both of you.

Jungkook in a panic, quickly catches the stroller in his arms and the crying of the child inside ceases. Everyone around is stunned, someone begins clapping and then everyone’s clapping, thunderous shouts of encouragement. “You’re a hero!” The fake mother runs up to Jungkook, embracing her fake bundle of joy. “Thank you so much!”

“Y-you’re welcome.”

You almost burst into more laughter at how surprised he is and you’re sure that the plan is perfect.

“One last thing.” You tell him as the run through the park comes to an end.

“What is it now?” He swivels his head around, bending his knees as if someone will jump out from the trees to attack.

You smile. “Don’t worry. Someone’s going to bump into your date and you have to catch her.”

“Catch-?”

Your words are the world’s command; right then and there, a rushing business man comes roughly colliding into your shoulder and knocking you off your feet. Despite you knowing it was going to happen, it’s harder than you expect and you begin to plunge downwards, not gracefully like you expected it. For a second you’re afraid of hitting your head on the pavement but then Jungkook grabs you in his arms, preventing your fall and leaning down with his lips millimeters away from yours.

“A-are you okay?” He searches your face quickly and you steady your breathing.

The sunlight hits the two of you but doesn’t blind your eyes since he’s there, overtaking the golden beams and sheltering your body with his bigger one. He’s so close that you begin to feel suffocated. You can see his every eyelash, the natural pinkness of his plush lips and his hair is nearly tickling your forehead as he looks down on you. The musk scent of his cologne fills your nose and makes you lightheaded.

“I-I’m fine.” You sputter back to him, your calm façade cracking as a flush raises on your cheeks. “It was a bit harder than expected.” You admit before a tiny smirk lifts on your lips. “For a second I thought you weren’t going to catch me.”

“Of course I would.” He responds back in dead seriousness that makes your heart stutter.

“You can let go of me now, Jungkook.” You murmur to him, feeling his arms tighten around your body. “I think people are staring.”

“Oh.” He stands you up and you’re surprised with the strength in his arms. “So...is that it?”

“That’s all.” You reassure. “A few surprises will be there but nothing you can’t handle. I think you’re ready. She should be here in...” You take a quick glance at your watch. “...in twenty minutes.”

There’s a silence after his nod, the two of you making your way back to the entrance. “Y/N.” It’s the first time he calls your name and it takes a moment for it to register. You look at him with big eyes, eyelashes batting back and forth as you stare at the well suited man. In one moment, he grins at you with crinkled eyes. “I’ll race you back to the entrance.”

“I’m wearing heels.” You lift up your foot for a moment, showing your professional shoes that occasionally likes to pinch your toes. Jungkook grimaces and you giggle. “Doesn’t mean I won’t race you!”

Without waiting for a response or sparing a warning, you slip off the shoes and cut through the plush grass of the park. He shouts a loud ‘HEY!’ and becomes lost for a moment at your running form. No sooner he’s racing behind you.

The two of you are laughing while cutting through the field back to the entrance and you realize how competitive he is. The sun is beaming down while you’re barefooted and he’s in a tight suit, limbs constricted. But in a flash, you’re both collapsed on a bench together while gasping for breaths.

“Don’t-don’t do it…” You inhale a breath into your burning lungs. “...don’t do this-... with your date.”

He smiles, breathless. “Why?”

“Girls aren’t usually up to do races…” Inhale. “...on dates while in heels….-or if they’re wearing a skirt.”

Jungkook tilts his head. “What about you?”

“I’m just different.” You grin at him, feeling victorious after the battle is settled at a tie. The boy can run fast but you’re far from being a loser.

Jungkook’s smile widens. “You sure are.”

What you’re most thankful for at this point of time is how many trees, bushes and hedges are lining the park, keeping you perfectly hidden from sight. What you’re not so thankful for are the sticks poking at your face, leaving some scratches on your legs and how they tangle in your hair. The worst is when the bugs begin to crawl between your toes but those are simply a few of the sacrifices you have to make with your unusual job.

“Why are you wearing a suit?” She giggles out, covering her mouth with her hand as she glances at him from head to toe. “I mean you look good but…”

Jungkook scratches the back of his neck. “I...uhhh…”

You’re peering out from the bushes, crouched down and you take the walkie-talkie in your right hand, pushing down a button as it beeps. “Tell her you just got off from work.”

“I just got off from work.” Jungkook deadpans with a little laugh trailing at the end.

“Oh I see.” She nods thoughtfully, the both of them continuing on their walk down the path of the city park.

You crawl behind the bushes to keep up with them, maintaining a perfect distance. There are binoculars around your neck in case they get too far and your ear piece connects to the hidden microphone in Jungkook’s suit jacket. The walkie-talkie in your right hand connects to his ear piece, hidden away in the opposite direction from her. It’s absolutely perfect conditions for you to stalk the two of them and perfect for him to receive your instructions.

There’s an awkward silence that fills the both of them. “Ask her about her day.”

“So how was your day today?” Jungkook asks.

“It was alright. A little bit busy. I’ll admit I was pretty surprised when you called me this morning to meet at the park.” Mina smiles politely.

“Uh...well…”

You sigh, wondering if he was going to need this much of your help. “Tell her you just wanted to see her.”

“I wanted to see you.” Jungkook says, adding on- “I missed you.”

It’s a little bit much to say that he missed her but you suppose he’s at least getting somewhere on his own. “You’re sweet.” She grins, a little flustered.

“Tell her that she looks gorgeous today.”

He frowns, murmuring quietly while turning his head away from Mina. “Isn’t that too much?”

“Are you okay, Jungkook?” Mina blinks at him and he nods at her.

“Yeah sorry. I’m fine.” He clears his throat. “You look gorgeous today….by the way. Just wanted to say that.”

“Thank you.” She beams back at him.

“Told you it would work.” You scoff into the walkie-talkie and Jungkook scoffs back, covering it up with a cough as his date looks at him again in deep concern.

“I have a bit of a scratchy throat.” He coughs another time to make it convincing.

Her brows furrow. “That’s terrible. Have you had tea? It’s suppose to help.”

“Oh, that’s a good idea.” He nods enthusiastically. “Actually, it was because of my cat. She sometimes gets too crazy with her demands that I strain myself like this.”

“That’s terrible.” Mina grimaces, sharing her sympathy.

You lift the device up to your mouth slowly, narrowing your eyes in suspicion. The words that leave your lips are barely a murmur. “You better not be talking about me.”

Jungkook laughs brightly, feeling the heat of your stare on his back as goosebumps raise on his skin. A second later, he coughs again and nods in reassurance to his increasingly worried date. With a sigh, you get back on track. “Okay, prepare yourself. The first mark is here.” You speak into the walkie-talkie then you lift the left one that’s connected to your team. “He’s arriving at the first mark.”

On your cue, everyone prepares themselves. “Oh my! Oh my! Sir! Why won’t you buy some flowers for your lovely girlfriend?” The old lady, whom you know as Seungyeon, calls out to Jungkook.

With your trial run, he already knows what to do and he slyly grabs Mina’s hand, leading her to the stall. The elderly lady rushes to the front. “You both are such a cute couple, I can’t resist!” The two exchange a shy look with each other. “I think you match so well. Here, red roses represent true love. I think they’re quite suitable for this young lady.”

Seungyeon takes out the bouquet and hands them to Jungkook. “You don’t have to…” His date murmurs but he still forks over the bill.

“Don’t worry.” He puts out his hand with a confident smile. “And you can keep the change miss.”

“Thank you so much, young man.” She smiles and then looks over at Mina with a wink. “He’s a keeper.”

Jungkook looks down at the bouquet of fresh, red roses and sniffs them. The fragrance fills his nose and he hands them to Mina. “They match you. Well..almost. They might be embarrassed for being less beautiful.”

You’re amazed at how the greasy words fall off his tongue and he doesn’t look at all uncomfortable, especially when the side of his lip is tugged into a tiny smirk.

“T-Thank you. I...that’s really sweet of you to say, Jungkook.” She shyly takes them in her hand and you peer through the lens of the binoculars, noticing the same shade of red on her cheeks. First mission - successful! You give yourself a fist pump.

“Good job.” You praise Jungkook through the walkie talkie and maybe it’s your eyes playing tricks on you but you’re sure his smile widens.

The two continue and as flawless as Jungkook’s memory is, he keeps the wallet up and excuses himself for a moment. Mina watches in confusion but then her confusion melts into a smile as Jungkook approaches the homeless man, who is really your co-worker, and gives him a bill. It’s a bit overtop dramatic how your co-worker thanks him and almost bursts into tears. You giggle a bit, wondering if he’s trying to earn a promotion or an oscar award.

Mina doesn’t say anything but you can tell she’s utterly impressed. “It’s time.” You speak into your left walkie-talkie. “Release the doves! RELEASE THE DOVES! RELEASE THEM!”

Some children behind you shoot you odd looks but you’re too concentrated on the hollywood-like scene transpiring and unfolding in front of you. A burst of white doves gets released into the sky behind some bushes across from you, flapping their wings right in front of the couple. There are a few gasps, others who stop in their tracks to point and even Mina freezes.

“Are those….doves?”

Jungkook blinks, startled too. He laughs internally, wondering if this is one of your many surprises. “I think so?”

You hold up the right walkie-talkie. “Laugh and tell her that doves represent peace, hope and….love.”

On your command he laughs. “Did you know that doves represent peace, hope and...love?”

She turns to him with a smile and an amused expression. “No, I didn’t know that.”

The date continues with giggles, stolen glances and tiny smiles. But it’s far from over. “It’s time. Release the puppies. Release them.” You announce into the left transmitter. With your order, a dozen golden retriever puppies come sprinting towards Jungkook. They all launch at him in big jumps, knocking him off of his feet.

“Oh my god.” Mina gasps, taking a step back as the puppies cover his entire body, licking his face with tiny, cute barks leaving their mouths. “Are you okay?”

Jungkook giggles, a bit hysterically as he puts a hand out signally that he’s alive. “I’m okay. I’m okay.” He laughs again, genuinely with crinkled eyes as he sits up and pets them. “I love dogs.”

You have to admit yourself, Jungkook on the ground with adorable puppies running all over him with their stubby legs, small paws and golden hair was a sight that could cure sore eyes. He is...- they are adorable; the puppies. Not Jungkook, of course. You shake your head furiously, taking away the binoculars for a second to get rid of the unnecessary thoughts clouding your brain.

While you’re trying to get a hold of yourself, a man comes running by and apologizes for the dogs getting loose. Jungkook helps round them up, putting leashes on them again as Mina watches with a huge grin, petting a puppy as she stares at her date with star-struck eyes.

“Now.”

At your words, the entire scene develops. A baby stroller comes rolling down the path and Jungkook heroically saves the (fake) baby, just as planned. You even laugh when he gets a bit cockier, sweeping his hair up and accepting the applause of the people nearby and the gratitudes of the mother with a huge grin. You’re as satisfied as he is, how everything is in your hands and you’re orchestrating the entire date flawlessly.

With your directions, the ‘children’ playing soccer accidentally kick the ball too far away. Jungkook kicks it back to them impeccably, even scoring an accidental goal to show off his athleticism. And every time you praise him through his earpiece - ‘good job’, ‘you’re doing really well’, ‘keep up the good work, Kook’ - his confidence and smile only seems to expand.

At this rate and the way Mina is gazing at him, you wonder if she’ll drop down and just propose to him.

An intense feeling begins to swirl in the pit of your stomach, one that gives you an irrational urge to march up to the both of them and peel Mina away. You don’t understand what it is, solely a surge of envy or rather, jealousy- no. That’s impossible.

“Cue the last event.” You speak into the transmitter before your thoughts get out of hand.

A dashing business man collides into Mina’s shoulder, shouting an apology behind his back before he disappears and Mina is left falling backwards with a yelp. Within a heartbeat of a second, Jungkook swiftly throws out his arms and catches her body. The two are millimeters away, eyes connecting.

“Are you okay?” He smoothly asks.

“Y-yeah.” She stutters, face rising with bright pink.

With a hard swallow, you rip your eyes away from the scene and remove the earpiece out. You switch off the right walkie-talkie, letting the two of them have their privacy for the rest of the date.

You lift the left walkie-talkie with a long sigh, eyes flickering to the lush green field. “Mission complete.”

You don’t understand why it’s so difficult for you to speak or why your heart suddenly feels so heavy. “Everyone clear out.”

Right when you thought things could return back to normal, you continuing your work flawlessly and Jungkook having his happy ending with the girl - things don’t. Instead, you can’t even escape the guy since he calls and books another event similarly to the park date.

“You do know that although we’re happy to work with you, you just can’t keep doing this?”

You laugh over the phone, keeping quiet since you don’t want anyone to hear you discouraging a client. Usually you’d keep to a professional tone of voice but this is the third time you’ve worked with Jungkook, more than the usual client and before you could realize, the relationship you had with him had naturally evolved into something more comfortable.

He likes to call occasionally, during the work day to ask for dating advice. It’s not your job but you help him to the best of your abilities. You hate to admit it but sometimes you even look forward to your phone ringing in hopes that it’s him on the other side.

“Why not?” Jungkook laughs.

“Well are you going to rely on me for every single date that you have?” You tease him with the shake of your head.

“Maybe.” He quips back and you can already envision his huge grin.

“I thought last time went well.” You inquire with a suspicious tone. “She seemed head over heels.”

“Well yeah…” His voice carries a bit of hesitation. “I’m just nervous that’s all.”

“You didn’t seem that nervous when you were with me.” You hum back.

“It feels a lot better when you’re there.” There’s a bit of a silence until he clears his throat. “I mean your instructions are pretty good.”

A smile creeps up on your lips. “Well, do you have any ideas of what you want to do with this next date then?”

“It’s up to you, boss!” He says in a playful manner.

You snicker. “Okay. How about a house party? Something to really seal the deal in.”

“Seal the deal?”

“So you don’t have to keep coming for us for dates….or me for advice.” You shift the phone to the other side, a bit of a silence. “Don’t you want to become official with her? Girlfriend-Boyfriend status.”

“Of course.”

“Well great.” You muster up a smile. “I’ll see what I can do and I’ll give you a call later.”

“I’ll be looking forward to it.”

“Me too.”

The walls are thumping with a base, strobe lights flashing in the living room and bottles of drinks crowd the table. There’s a beer pong game in the kitchen and George is mandating the bar, handing out special alcoholic mixes that taste way too good to be true. You figured that Jungkook’s last two dates were on the rather serious side and if you were going to work on another one with him, you’d let it be more wild and loose. You also figured that your co-workers deserved a fun break so, you killed two birds with one stone by hosting a house party.

Of course, there were rules in place and as the leader of your team, you restricted the alcohol consumption since you were all on a job but you’re not so sure if they’re obeying them with the way Seungyeon is grinding up on the new intern on the dance floor.

Everything is perfect and you’re even enjoying a drink, casually sipping on it. You were afraid that the neighbors would complain about the music but you swung by as a fake telemarketer and gave them vouchers to the new restaurant down the street. There was nothing that could go wrong. Jungkook had it in the bag.

“Wow.” The man that you’re thinking about appears, squeezing through the crowd and his eyes light up when they land on you. It’s as if he’s been trying to look for you. “This is pretty legit Y/N.”

“Of course it’s legit.” You snap at him playfully, finding it easier to smile and let go of the professionalism with the alcohol tingling your skin. “You know the typical things we do are just packing boxes and delivering them. Honeymoons, anniversaries, Valentine’s Day, Christmas...just for all sorts of things. But rarely do we get the biggest upgrades so it’s a lot of fun to make a huge scene and act and stuff.”

The giggle that leaves your lips and the flush of your skin makes him smile. “How much have you drank?”

“Not that much.” You shrug. “But this is not about me. Tonight is about you! We’re going to make it happen!”

Jungkook scratches the back of his neck. “Uh huh. Sure.”

“You’re going to ask her out officially and you won’t need my help anymore.” You dip your head to one side. “Of course, you can always contact me when you have your honeymoon or one year anniversary or something.”

“What makes you think she’s going to accept?”

Your eyes double in size and your mouth drops dramatically. “Have you seen the look in her eyes? The way they’re so big and they twinkle like they’ve seen a thousand stars?”

Jungkook grins. “So like the look you’re giving me now?”

You scoff, rolling your eyes and laughing. “What are you talking about?”

His lips close together but still upturning as he shrugs. “Nevermind.”

“Listen.” You slap a hand on his shoulder and he turns to stare at your touch before looking at you again. “You’ve liked this girl for a long time right? Isn’t she your co-worker?”

He hums.

“So you’re going to get the girl of your dreams!” You remove your hand, grinning and speaking a bit too loudly but everyone around already knows the situation. “Aren’t you excited?”

Jungkook sighs a long breath, barely mumbling past his lips. “I’m not sure if she’s the girl of my dreams…”

“Then who is?”

Suddenly there is a long silence between the two of you as he stares deep into your eyes, doe orbs that are the hue of darkened honey. The music continues to tremble the walls, the chatter and laughter of your co-workers never ceases but no one seems to notice. You’re standing in the middle of the kitchen with your heartbeat pounding in your ears, stunned and cheeks burning up. In the span of a few seconds, you’ve become more sober than before, more alert as you blink with widened eyes.

Still, Jungkook still refuses to look away.

It’s only when the doorbell rings does he rip his gaze from you and heads to the door.

But it’s still unsettling and most importantly - the question is left unanswered.

“And this is Y/N.” Jungkook introduces the two of you and you shake her hand with a smile. It’s a bit odd to see her in front of you, smiling back when you know a lot more about her than a stranger should.

“Nice to meet you.”

“And she’s….?” Mina looks at Jungkook warily.

“Oh! I’m George’s friend.” You glaze over your lies with another smile and she nods. Through your years of working at Date in a Box, you learnt that things were best kept simple. You and Jungkook decided to fabricate a tale of George being his one-month roommate that was moving out and that this was a ‘goodbye’ party. That way when you and the rest of the people at the party disappears from Jungkook’s life, she won’t wonder where you are.

Disappearing - the thought makes you suddenly nauseous.

“She’s…” Jungkook seems to have a hard time finding words to describe you, his eyes flicking up to the ceiling and he finally settles on- “...great.”

“Wow. Thanks for the great compliment.” You nag him and he grins.

“She’s also a great person to talk to.”

“I am.” You agree with him, raising up your cup. “But I’m just great at everything in general.”

“Really?” He cocks up an eyebrow, giving you a look of utter disbelief.

“I won that race at the park.” You remind him, proudly while lifting up your chin.

“We need a rematch.” Jungkook declares without a smile.

“So you can lose again?”

“I’m not going to lose!” He sighs with exasperation before a grin breaks through. Right when you’re about to retort, Mina giggles at the back and forth bickering and you’re reminded of her existence. For a second there, it felt like only you and Jungkook were in the room.

You curse inwardly, reminding yourself not to get carried away and that you’re on a business job, not to actually hang out. With a deep exhale, you manage a smile. “Let’s go sit.”

“So…” You lean on the couch with one arm propped upwards, smirking and leaning in close. “What do you think about him?”

The both of you are on the couch, Jungkook chatting with some other people after you signaled for him to leave. It was time for you to work your magic and make sure that he has a 100% success rate.

“About Jungkook?” She sips her drink. “Yeah, he’s nice.”

“Oh c’mon. You can tell me.” You nudge her playfully with a laugh. “I mean isn’t he attractive? Even a blind person would think he’s attractive.”

She smiles at you. “He’s pretty sweet.”

“He’s a great guy, really genuine with whoever he likes. He can be a bit shy sometimes but trust me that’s just the surface. He can get pretty crazy and competitive too.” You sigh, not realizing that your rambling at this point. Mina is staring at you with a smile as she continues to sip her drink.

“He’s just...well….” You finally turn to her with bright eyes. “Do you like him?”

Mina sets down her cup on the coffee table, shifting to you completely as she leans on the couch and whispers like it’s a secret. “I could ask you the same thing.”

You frown as she grins. “What do you mean?”

“Do you like him?”

“Me?” You point to yourself and a laugh of disbelief leaves your stiff lips. “What makes you think that?”

Her mouth subtly upturns and her eyes gleam over. “I could tell as soon as he introduced me to you. Just the way you look at him and the way he looks at you. Trust me, I can tell.” She winks at you as if it’s a secret sisterhood code that doesn’t need to be spoken out loud.

“Wait. Wait.” You bring out your hands defensively. The situation has suddenly become so much more serious. “You’ve got this all wrong.”

“I don’t think I do.” She gives you a meaningful look before abruptly taking your hand into yours. Mina sighs a deep breath while looking deep in your eyes. “I’ve been in your shoes before. I tried to be happy for someone else but I couldn’t lie to myself like that. I ended up regretting everything that I did and I couldn’t help but wonder the ‘what if’s’.”

You’re officially the worst wing woman on this entire planet.

“No- wait-”

“There was nothing on between us, so don’t mind me. I know we’ve just met each other in the past hour but I can see it in your eyes, Y/N. “ You’re absolutely baffled but Mina continues as she holds your hands with a sympathetic, soft expression. “You two look so cute and perfect together. The last place I want to be is in your way. Go and get him, tiger!”

You can’t even respond before Mina pushes you up and into the crowd. When you turn around she grins at you, encouragement streaming from her cheerful aura. You slide through the pack of people, stumbling on your feet and you accidentally bump into the last person you wanted to see.

“Woah there.” Jungkook puts a hand around your shoulder to stop you from falling over. “Did you have too much to drink?”

You look up at him without speaking a word. Mina’s voice rings in your ears over and over again, like an angel or devil - you’re not sure which one. Instead, Jungkook seems to glow in the dim kitchen lights, his skin is a bit rosy with the alcohol and his eyes have never been more doe-like. “Are you okay?”

“I’m..uh…” Your tongue gets caught, tied and you blink hard. Jungkook laughs as you shake your head furiously, trying to get rid of all the thoughts and it certainly doesn’t help the situation.

“Someone’s going to hit on her.” You manage in a weak voice. “Someone from my team and you should swoop in to save her. After that, go and have a dance. When you’re done go out to the balcony. You should make it official there.”

Before you can walk away, he grabs onto your wrist. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine.”

You’re really not.

It was just a crush. Some stupid infatuation for some stupid kid.

You remind yourself over and over again when your brain involuntarily drifts to Jungkook. After he brought her out the balcony, the two exchanged hugs and by that time, the party was over. You refused to talk to him as you and your team cleaned up his apartment, leaving with hands full of garbage bags. You bid a faint goodbye before rushing out and never looking back.

Except your feelings had other ideas. Your feelings liked to laugh and mock at your sensible brain and at any moment where you were vulnerable, it liked to play back memories of him laughing or the both of you in past conversations. Your feelings attack at the worst times, before you go to bed to when you’re eating lunch. For a moment there, you almost consider calling up Heartbreak Insurance but you’re not heartbroken. You and Jungkook weren’t even together.

It was just a crush. Some stupid infatuation for some stupid kid.

You repeat it to yourself again with clasped hands and closed eyes.

When and why did you ever let your professionalism slip? What was wrong with you? Why couldn’t you just get him out of your head?! UGH!

It was just a crush. Some stupid infatuation for some stupid kid.

“Yo.” Seungyeon slides her chair out, poking her head out from the cubicle while still holding the phone handset to her ear. “Jungkook’s on the line.”

“What?” The mantra shatters in your brain and you clutch your head in horror. Was this kid a demon? Why does he keep terrorizing your life?

“He keeps saying that you’re not picking up his calls.”

It was true. You were trying to ignore him. “What is he saying?”

With her next words, you instantly bolt out of your seat - “It’s an emergency.”

“What kind of emergency?” You grab your coat in alarm, scrambling for your things. “What does he need?”

“Just the basic.” She says with panic too and you lurch to grab the already prepared date in a box filled with champagne and sweet dessert, stuffing it in your black duffle bag by your feet. “He says you’ll understand this but...”

Seungyeon goes silent for a second, listening to him on the other line and a frown immediately sets on her face. “...five minutes?”

“Five minutes?!” You shriek, running out the door. Your phone is already marked with his location and you don’t look back. The corner of your lips upturn subtly, dam unleashed and brain now blaring with thoughts of him but you’re still in distress - you have five minutes.

Jungkook calls and you come running.

You push open the glass doors and they smash against the walls from your immense force. The worker shoots you a glare but you don’t notice, scanning the surroundings for the familiar black mop of hair.

“Oh Y/N!” You swivel your head over at the voice and he’s there in front of the desk, wearing a huge grin and carrying a pair of bowling shoes.

“What’s going on?” You rush up, wheezing with burning lungs. “Where is she? How much time do we have left?”

“Just put on the shoes.” Jungkook says calmly, putting them in your hands and you nod, following his instructions without thinking much. For some reason or another, the two of you are at a bowling alley and you don’t understand anything that’s going on, especially how he’s not panicked as you are when he said it was an emergency and gave you a five minute warning.

“Wanna bowl?” He suggests with another bright grin and he doesn’t wait for your response before he walks over to the lane, picks up a bowling ball and gives it a good throw. You’re still catching your breath, mind in a whirlwind as he gets a perfect strike and fists pumps the air.

Jungkook spins once on his heel, wearing a shit-eating smile as he turns to you. But then his lips turn into a straight line. “What’s wrong?”

You turn your head towards every corner, the black duffle bag falling off shoulder and onto the ground with a thunk. “Where is she? Where’s Mina?”

“She’s not here.”

“When is she coming?”

“She’s not coming.”

“What?” You frown, utterly confused.

The doe-eyed male casually shrugs. “It turns out that we don’t have much in common.”

“What? I don’t understand.” You shake your head. “Then why did you call me? What’s going on?”

He sighs in exasperation, shoulders slumping and his head downcasts. In the next second, he perks back up again, eyes connecting to yours with a mischievous smile and your heart stutters. Jungkook takes three long strides, closing the gap between the two of you. He reaches down to his bag by your feet and pulls out a bouquet of pink carnations.

“You ruin everything for me, don’t you?” He bites his lips, handing you the flowers. “And I’m not going to say any cheesy line. Just take them. Here.”

You reach over and hold them with hesitance, brain trying it’s hardest to understand what’s happening.

“I was suppose to say ‘you look really nice today, kind of like flowers’ and pull them out of a bag.” Jungkook scratches the back of his head, suddenly nervous and shy. “I wanted to take you out on a date and be all smooth. This is so embarrassing but I actually already pre-paid at a restaurant and everything. We were suppose to even go to a movie afterwards. And maybe if everything went well thenIkindawanttokissyousincethat’sallI’vebeenabletothinkabout.”

“Wait. Wait.” You hold out your other hand. “What did you just say?”

“If everything went well...then….I...want..to..kiss. you?” He mutters quietly, face becoming completely red. “Uhhhhhh……..”

“No before that.” A smile breaks on your lips as you look down at the flowers, finally able to comprehend what’s going on. “You want to go on a date with me?”

“That’s why I’ve been trying to call you.” He clears his throat nervously before grinning. “But someone’s not picking up.”

“Oh my god.” You put a hand over your mouth, not being able to resist the wide smile that goes all the way to your cheeks.

A knot instead forms between his brows. “Wait. Did you not want to go on a date? I’m so sorry I didn’t ask you. Fuck. I knew I should have. I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable. We can totally forget about all this and-”

“No.” You shake your head, meeting his eyes. “Is that why you said it was an emergency?”

He scratches the back of his neck, becoming more and more embarrassed by the second and it’s an absolute sight for sore eyes. You can’t help but let your smile widen and he grimaces. “You’re making this really hard for me…” He sighs, calming his nerves down. “I thought you would reject me if I didn’t say it was an emergency.”

“And you tried to plan this date out like how I plan dates?” You step closer, egging him on and biting your lower lip.

He stares at you for a moment, eyes flickering downwards for a second. “You’re making it really hard for me not to kiss you right now.”

“Then do it.”

In the next heartbeat, you’ve pulled him in and your lips meet each others. A smile expands across his cheeks and he tilts his head, bringing his arms to wrap behind your back. He kisses you softly, the warmth traveling through your body with the caress of his pillow lips.

It’s more playful than intense and lasts only a few seconds before a grumpy old lady interrupts with the loud clearing of her throat. You pull away and she glares, covering her child’s eyes with her hand as they try to peek through. When you look back at Jungkook, feeling a surge of bliss, the two of you accidentally bonk your foreheads together. He freezes and you lift your hand to the wound before you both simultaneously break out into laughter.

You shift away playfully before he can kiss you again and you turn on your heels, feeling his gaze pinned on your back. The adrenaline is still pulsing through your veins and you grab a bowling ball, sauntering up to the lane and throwing it down in one motion. With a loud clack, you get a perfect strike. Your jaw drops, the rush of the kiss still tingling your skin all the way to your toes and making you dazed, standing there for a second longer with your mouth agape. Did that really just happen? But when you swivel around, you mask your surprise with a sly smirk.

Jungkook’s eyes are as wide as saucers and you tap him on the shoulder. “If you win, I’ll let you take me out on another date if this one goes well.”

He smirks at you. “And if you win?”

“Then I’ll let myself kiss you again.”

He narrows his eyes playfully. “Oh, it’s so on.”

Unlike the basis of your entire career, being with Jungkook makes you realize that some dates don’t need to be perfect or planned at all.

#bts scenario #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fluff #jungkook scenario #bts jungkook #jungkook #DAMMIT JEON JUNGKOOK

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go-redgirl · 5 years ago

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Exclusive Excerpt—Charles Hurt: ‘Still Winning: Why America Went All In on Donald Trump—And Why We Must Do It Again’

Exclusive excerpt is from Charles Hurt’s new book, Still Winning: Why America Went All In on Donald Trump—And Why We Must Do It Again.

***

Donald Trump understood from day one that he could never win the presidency talking the way politicians talk. And he could never win by “acting presidential.”

People came to love his hilarious campaign trail shtick where he stands upright behind the podium and woodenly pretends to “act presidential” as he struts around the stage like a toy soldier, muttering meaningless politically correct bromides. It is a still-hilarious shtick that drives crowds wild. But more important, it demonstrates just how utterly useless it would have been for Donald Trump to run as some kind of normal political candidate.

No, this was a man who was out to crash the gates of Washington. And in order to do that, he had to radically upend the way the game of politics is played. He had to start by changing the language.

Such a change would not be easy. And it certainly would not be popular among politicians firmly ensconced in Washington. The royalty of the American political scene— known variously as “the Establishment” or “the elites” or “swamp creatures”—closely guard the language that is spoken in politics. It is a powerful tool in maintaining their grip on power. And the political press slavishly enforces these rules of language. (If you don’t speak the language, you don’t play the game.)

These people have spent decades establishing this vocabulary and hounding from politics anyone who veers outside the proscribed lines. They are forever culling the herd of politicians for saying things that are stupid, thoughtless, strange, or outside the acceptable range of political orthodoxy. The result of this ever-vigilant speech police is a stilted, meaningless political vocabulary that’s poll tested and riddled with preposterous euphemisms that provide for an infinite number of acceptable phrases that Democrats and Republicans yell back and forth—never actually winning any arguments and not accomplishing anything tangible for the voters they claim to represent.

Speech codes are nothing new. They have been popular among tyrants, despots, and demagogues since the beginning of human politics. Such a speech code was made famous, of course, by George Orwell’s dystopian novel 1984, published in 1949.

In Orwell’s fictional country of Oceana, the establishment “Inner Party” uses the official language of “Newspeak” to control the lower population of workers. The Inner Party uses all manner of media—two-way telescreens to microphones to spies—to enforce the Newspeak speech codes and report back any “thoughtcrimes” committed by the working proles. […]

The Lexicon of Lunacy

It is chilling to read 1984 today, seven decades after George Orwell published it. His ability to predict how established government authorities would use such “Orwellian” tactics to hold on to power is rivaled only by the ability of America’s Founders to ward off the very same abuses in some of their wisest elements of our Constitution.

In America, obviously, political leaders don’t enforce a “Newspeak” speech code and they certainly do not codify it. They don’t have a name for it at all, because to have a name for it would confirm its very existence. But others—outside the established “Inner Party”—do have terms for it. “Political correctness” is probably the most common description.

I call it the Lexicon of Lunacy.

The list of words, terms, and phrases in the Lexicon of Lunacy runs from the ridiculous to the deadly serious. Take the word “cisgender,” for example. I don’t actually know what it means but I know that we are supposed to use it when we are all tiptoeing around somebody’s severe midlife mental breakdown in which they decide to go under the knife to rearrange the sex organs God gave them.

Come to think of it, this is not at all funny. I feel genuinely sorry for anyone who finds himself, herself, or itself that thoroughly confused and lost in life. The only thing that could be worse would be if politicians decided to take that devastatingly depressing sorrow and weaponize it for political use.

Oh yeah, that has already happened.

So, how about this for an actually funny term from the Lexicon of Lunacy. “Overweight” has become a bad word because we don’t want to “fat shame” or “body shame” anyone. Instead we call the person “under tall.” Or, maybe “height- challenged.” Or “girth-oppressed.”

Those are funny. My children use them against me all the time.

Others are not funny at all.

The fuzzy term “pro-choice,” for instance, is the accepted euphemism for a political stance that favors killing a healthy, live human fetus that is living and developing in its mother’s body. In some cases, the term “pro-choice” can even mean the extermination and dismemberment of a healthy, growing fetus that might even be viable outside the womb. Who on earth hears of such a grisly procedure and thinks of the word “choice”? And, of course, the prefix “pro-”?

Less graphic but devastating in other ways are terms such as “free trade.” “Free trade” has become a mantra for hyperglobalization of the economy in ways that punish American workers, wildly enrich Wall Street and the captains of industry, and obliterate the ideals that have always separated America from the rest of the world.

The only group without a voice in this debate were millions of regular American voters. Until Trump announced his campaign.

Donald Trump saw all of this for exactly what it was. It was a fraud. Whether it was trade, immigration, wars, spending, or taxes—it was all a fraud. The American people were getting taken to the cleaner’s financially, and the American people were getting sold out as losers.

And Trump wasn’t even president yet! He was still just one of sixteen people vying for the Republican nomination. If you polled the media that day, every single reporter in all of politics would have given Trump a zero percent chance of winning the nomination, let alone the presidency.

After the speech was over, I called my office at the Washington Times and told my editor to scrap the column I had filed—that a new one was on the way. I endorsed Donald Trump, something I had never done before in a newspaper column. Because, after all, who gives a crap what I think about anything? But this was clearly something different. The speech was brilliant. It was daring, to be sure, but it also reflected an enormous amount of intentional thought. Trump had been listening very closely to voters. He had also been talking to some very smart people who clearly follow politics closely and understood the political landscape far better than any of the self-anointed geniuses inside the Beltway.

So I picked up the phone and called Steve Bannon, a friend who I knew liked to dabble in the more contrarian world of counterpolitics. We agreed the speech was great and, of course, Bannon told me he had been talking to Trump. A speech had been written. Bannon had seen it as late as the night before, he said. But the speech Trump delivered on live television to the country was entirely different than the one that had been prepared.

“Yeah, he didn’t read the speech,” Bannon marveled. “He got up there and just decided to wing it!”

Even at that point, Trump was not to be handled or scripted or managed or staffed. He was going on nothing but his own raw political instincts. And in the end, voters trusted Donald J. Trump to remain in character more than they trusted any politician to keep his campaign promises.

That turned out to be a pretty smart bet.