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mixtape-racha · 9 months

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YAYYYYYY 100 followersssss :) im so happy for youuuuu :)))))

okay, here is my request... hehe, im suchhh a sucker for hurt comfort and I loveeee fem 9th member au's. but like not smut or like fwb, just like a really juicy story y'know? I haven't been able to find any of those two categories combined tho, especially into like a longer fic, like it's always in the hundreds (I would love it if it was a little longer, no pressure tho :). literally, anything works, from some kinda mess up on stage to maybe you messing up a relationship w a member??? idk. I'm letting ur thoughts run wild here... THANK YOU AND CONGRATSSSS

(im sorry im really vague in requests lol)

YAYYYY THO IM LIKE REALLYYYY PROUD OF YOU<<<3333 LOV U BB KEEP DOING WHAT YOU DOOOO

thank you so much my lovely bae!! ilysm and i hope i did this request justice!! i kind of went off on a tangent and got carried away with the plot waaa <3

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sorry seems to be the hardest word

pairing: ot8 x fem!9th member!reader

warnings: angst, hurt comfort, reader snapping at the members, reader being physically unwell, fluff at the end

words: 2.29k

everything was going wrong today, and you truly meant every. fucking. thing.

somehow, you had managed to turn your alarm off the night before (probably because you fell asleep while on your phone, accidentally calling your mom in you sleep in the process), and none of the guys took the initiative to wake you up when they got up.

okay, sure, you couldn’t blame them entirely. you were a grown woman, and you could look after yourself. but weren’t you supposed to be a team? eight other people surrounding you, and none of them thought to check on you? especially when you were usually up and alert before they were? no, instead they were all out the door without even knocking to see if you were feeling okay. so much for being your brothers and best friends.

so god forbid, you were late this morning. you managed to turn up at the company for your vocal lessons only ten minute late, but it felt awful as you’d never been late before. you were so incredibly lucky to get the opportunity to debut with skz, especially joining the group later in their career and being the only girl. you wanted to do everything perfectly to show that you deserved to be where you were, and with the way today was shaping out you were so disappointed with yourself.

but then - it got worse. you, in your rush to leave the dorms, had forgotten your sheet music, leaving your vocal teacher to be short and snappy with you. yeah, you brought it up on your phone instead, but she was strict, and a firm believer in “good old-fashioned pen and paper over your silly little radio devices nowadays”. her attitude towards you for the remainder of your lesson affected you more than you liked to admit - excusing yourself to the bathroom to have a little cry before you headed to the studio.

for some reason, none of your schedules were properly coordinated today, leaving jisung to be the one in the studio with you - rather than chan, like usual - while you recorded your lines for the demos to be sent to the company later in the month, when you’d decide the songs for the new album you had upcoming later in the year.

jisung was always the nicest to you, especially when he could tell you were having a rough day - you were both very alike in that sense, very attentive towards each other as if you could tell what the other was feeling.

however, it seemed today that something had crawled up his ass and died. he was almost as snappy as your vocal teacher, and you were quite frankly sick of it. you kept messing up your lines; whether from the stress or the ache building in your throat (god you hoped you weren’t getting sick), you weren’t sure. but clearly, jisung wouldn’t stand for it.

“honestly, (y/n), you might as well just call it a day and come back to this with chan-hyung another day. i need to get on with other stuff.” he sighed, dismissively, as you bit back the tears fighting to escape your eyes. he wouldn’t even look at you, and your stomach was doing somersaults. was he really that mad? surely he could see how hard you were trying.

but instead of confronting him, you just grabbed your belongings and left after silently agreeing. no one answered your message on the group chat when you asked if anyone was down to get lunch together, even though you could see basically everyone had read it, so you retreated to the canteen alone before you had to go to practice with the boys.

as the ache in your throat spread to your joints, fatigue plaguing you, you trudged up to the practice room for rehearsals with the boys. you were learning a new dance - in fact, the already chosen title track for the new album, and deep down you were dreading it. it was more difficult than you had imagined, and definitely aimed more towards moves the boys could do compared to you. you loved the boys, but sometimes you felt like they forgot that men and women’s bodies worked differently.

surprisingly, you weren’t the last to arrive, squashing your fear of another thing going wrong.

but just as soon as practice began, your fear was reawakened. the ache in your joints was making the dance more difficult for you to execute, and you could feel the annoyance radiating off of minho’s body even if he wouldn’t admit it. you stumbled a few times, almost knocking into felix, who looked at you more frustrated than concerned.

“seriously, (n/n), what’s going on? it’s really not that hard. get your head in the game.”

you huffed, shaking out your limbs and telling minho to start the track again. maybe if you ignored your surroundings, ignored how you were feeling, then things would be easier. you could block out minho’s harsh criticisms - he was probably just tired. you could block out everything, knowing the boys were suffering just as much as you lately. but when the music stopped again, and everyone was talking at you, voice after voice lapping over each other you just couldn’t take it anymore.

“shut the fuck up! shut up, shut up, shut up! give me a fucking break, i’m trying my hardest!”

you honestly didn’t mean to snap, you were just so overwhelmed and couldn’t take anymore. when chan tried to put a comforting hand on your shoulder, you flung it off, all your annoyance and stress from the day building up at once.

“don’t fucking touch me. i don’t need your pity, i don’t need you to tell me that i don’t know how to do my job well enough. this is the fucking worst day of my life and you all keep making it worse!”

every fiber of your being was telling you to stop, to be reasonable, but it was like your mouth was making its own decisions. you couldn’t tell which member it was, but you were interrupting the gentle call of your name before you could even control it.

“and no, before any of you try to be funny, i’m not on my period,” you sneered, anger bubbling under your skin as you saw jisung look away sheepishly. “i’m just sick of feeling like i have to fight to prove i’m good enough, like i’m not one of you guys yet. we’re supposed to be a team, but all day i’ve been pushed to the side and treated like i don’t matter. i’m sick of it!”

you breathed heavily, grabbing your duffle bag from the side of the room and storming towards the door.

“i’m staying with yeji tonight, leave me the fuck alone.”

was all you said before leaving the boys stood in shock, confused as to why you were acting like you hated them.

regrettably, the minute you found yourself in yeji’s dorm and explained your day to her, you knew you were in the wrong. how could you let yourself treat your best friends that way? they didn’t deserve that, and you would be most understanding if they never forgave you. it was only when the throb in your head and ache in your joints became too much that you finally allowed yourself to sleep.

chan’s apology

luckily, you and the boys were granted a week off a while ago, and today marked the first day of that week. however, knowing chris he was probably still hauled up in the studio from the night before. it was around 3am (yeji shouldn’t have let you crash so early, your sleep schedule was going to be manic), so you pulled yourself together before making the decision to go visit him.

he may not even want to see you after your little outburst, but you could still try.

you stopped by the convenience store on your way to the studio, grabbing some snacks and some drinks just to be on the safe side. carefully checking the group chat, you saw that changbin was still in the studio with chan and you hoped you could get there before he left - it might be easier to kill two birds with one stone. you were just glad you bought way too much food for just two people.

you smiled politely, bowing at the security guard as he let you into the building, heart thumping in your ears as you carefully traced the steps to chan’s studio.

when you finally approached the door, you had to take a minute to prepare yourself to knock. you heard chan’s voice mumbling behind the door once you did, nervously waiting until he came and opened it.

he looked surprised to see you, frozen for a moment before quickly ushering you in and sitting you on the couch next to changbin. almost in instinct, changbin’s arm was slung around your shoulder - something he always did when you were close by, relishing in the fact he wasn’t the shortest in the group anymore.

you sheepishly held out the bag containing all the goodies you got at the convenience store to chan, a small smile on your face when he took it.

“got you some snacks.. kind of guessed you might have forgotten to eat.” your voice was quiet, ashamed. you just hoped they wouldn’t hold your outburst against you.

but when chan grinned, you knew he could never be mad at you for long.

“we were worried about you, y’know? that’s why jisung let you go early today - something seemed off and we didn’t want you to get too overwhelmed.” changbin said from next to you, the hand on your shoulder rubbing it comfortingly.

you couldn’t stop the tears from welling up behind your eyes again, but bit them back in fear they’d think you were looking for sympathy.

“i– i’m so sorry. i’ve just had an awful day, and i feel like shit, but that doesn’t excuse my actions, and i shouldn’t have snapped at you all - you couldn’t have known, and its not your fault.”

you explained why your day had been so bad to them (after some pushing from chan), and how you were feeling physically, causing changbin to look at you with great worry.

they indulged in a small cuddle session, feasting on the snacks you provided while they tried to help cheer you up. and honestly, it worked, just talking through how you were feeling, and gettin constructive feedback rather than just a shoulder to lean on was relieving.

you couldn’t apologize to them more, feeling so ashamed of your actions, but they were quick to reassure you it was okay - everyone had bad days, you were only human after all. you just needed to work on your communication a little bit.

when you finally got ready to head back to the dorm at 5am, you felt better than you had in a long time, actually.

apology numbers one and two: complete.

but when you arrived back at the dorm, head peacefully resting on changbin’s shoulder, what you weren’t expecting to walk into was what you all called a “cuddle pool” - the sofa bed pulled out, covered with pillows and blankets - and a spot waiting for you between felix and seungmin.

your eyes watered at the expectant faces of your soul-brothers, small sobs leaving your lips as your shoulders shook. god, the day had taken a toll on you - you couldn’t remember the last time you cried in front of the boys.

it was only then that minho - who you hadn’t seen standing by the door - scooped you into a hug.

“oh, angel,” he frowned, a hand pressed to your forehead. “you’re burning up. is that why you felt so bad earlier?”

words seemed to fail you, and all you could do was nod as your grip on his sweater tightened. it certainly wouldn’t be the first time you got sick from stress, but you hated being sick. you hated feeling out of control in your own body, and despised being doted on like you were unable. however, this time… you think you could let it slide. you just needed your boys close by right now.

they seemed to enjoy looking after you, and you felt you owed them that after the situation in the practice room.

minho was quick to place on you on the couch, felix and seungmin suffocating you in a bone-crushing hug. jisung handed you the tv remote, saying you could choose to watch whatever you wanted, and that everyone would be having a slumber party in the living room until you felt better.

minho and chan had gone to make you some chicken noodle soup - using felix’s mom’s recipe, which was known for being a lifesaver in your dorm. jeongin was quick to grab you your comfort plushie, taking his place on the floor by your feet - the two of you were 100% keen on physical affection, but having him close by helped.

within merely an hour, all nine of you were curled up, an animated disney movie playing, with soup and mugs of tea being passed around the room. it was nice, and it felt so good to have your boys so close and willing to help you.

you definitely took on changbin’s mention of needing to improve on communication, wanting nothing more than to improve yourself for the little family you had build around you. and yeah you were sick, and they would probably get sick too by being in such close proximity to you, but that was a problem for another day. you’d just return the favor of looking after them.

you just knew you were lucky to have them.

taglist: join taglist here @pretty-racha @chubbyanarkiss @taeriffic @mits-vi @chanssmiles @5kayzee @torixx80 @fawnpeaks @bangtanmix73 @savluvsmingi @boi-bi-ahaha

#mixtape-racha #mixtape-racha fic #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #skz 9th member #fem reader #chan x reader #minho x reader #changbin x reader #hyunjin x reader #jisung x reader #felix x reader #seungmin x reader #jeongin x reader #skz hurt comfort #skz angst

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bestmusicalworldcup · 1 year

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I've got another propaganda request. :) When I see StarKid/Tin Can/similar productions promoted, it's usually by describing the general plot a la "the spies are gay and in LOVE!" (or whatever), or else the accessibility ("it's on Youtube with ~subtitles~"). However, none of those tell me what's actually great about the shows themselves. Without referencing the fact that the musicals contain popular tropes and can be viewed online, why should someone watch a StarKid show?

The reason that you see Starkid productions and similar musicals promoted that way is because frankly that is usually enough to get most people to watch them. (Fully accessible musicals are on short supply as you know.)

The thing about that question is that Team Starkid has produced about a dozen full-scale musicals over the course of 14 years so their style has evolved significantly over time, with many of what were considered core traits and tropes of older Starkid musicals not even being significantly present in their newer ones. However, I have done my best to come up with a general answer:

Someone should watch a Starkid show because in addition to being quite humorous (some older folks may not agree), many of them also have strong characters, storylines with serious emotional weight, and quality songs hidden underneath. The Starkid cast and crew are also all incredibly wonderful.

All these points also apply to Spies are Forever, which is not a Starkid production, but which was referenced in your ask.

Of course that answer is still a bit vague, but at the end of the day I am only a casual Starkid fan, having only seen about half of the Starkid library, and so I am not be able to give a more precise answer.

If you are looking to watch a Starkid musical for the first time, I would recommend either Twisted: The Untold Story of A Royal Vizier, or The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals, generally agreed to be Starkid's two greatest works.

Twisted gives Aladdin the Wicked treatment, retelling the story from the point of Jafar. I would watch it because it has compelling characters, one of the strongest emotional cores of any Starkid musical and some of the best songs as well (the whole score parodies the sound of the Disney Renaissance). Its story also manages to balance being a parody of Aladdin (and Wicked to an extent) with acting as an analogy of the history of the Walt Disney Company in the early 2000's.

The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals features a normal guy who doesn't like musicals as his town is overrun by an alien hivemind turning his town into a musical. I would watch it simply because it is a fun musical with good songs. While it is perhaps not as emotionally potent as Twisted, the characters are still interesting and have some depth to them as well. Compared to earlier Starkid works, TGWDLM uses the traditional Starkid brand of college humor sparingly while still being quite funny, which should make it more palatable to those who are turned off by that type of humor.

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scribespirare · 10 months

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i’ve been thinking about miguel being a cat. like a mama cat whose kittens got taken from him but is left out on the streets. idk why but it fits him so much. and miles as the guy that’s kind enough to take a stray cat in

So idk if this is how you meant for this request to go but 👀 I am a slut for were creatures

Miguel has lived on the streets for a while now. It’s not exactly through choice but it’s not not through choice either.

He could shift. He could go back to being human. Find a job. Rent an apartment. Settle.

But he doesn’t.

Life is simpler when he’s a cat. Yeah he eats things his human side balks at, sleeps places no human would ever touch, smells like something the crawled out of the sewer. But there’s nothing to be anxious about in the day to day except survival. And seeing how Miguel is smarter than your average alley cat, that’s not much to be anxious about at all.

New York maybe isn’t the best place to be a stray cat, but it’s not the worst either. Lots of rats to catch and garbage to pick through for food. Sometimes people even leave kibble out for cats like him, which is why Miguel doesn’t think anything of climbing up a fire escape one night, following the scent of dry food. He finds it outside a window looking into the messy room of a teenage boy.

And that’s how it all starts.

Miguel feels a draw to Miles that he can’t explain. At first he thinks it’s the kid’s youth, that Miles reminds Miguel of the child he lost and the life he used to live.

Then he gets a good hit of the kid’s scent and…well. He’s certainly not comparing Miguel to his daughter anymore after that. Miles smells like warmth and home and spice and sex.

So yeah. Not a child surrogate.

Miles has friends that come over that Miguel feels a little more paternal towards though. Hobie and Ganke and Pavitr and Gwen. None of them smell like sex to Miguel, which is quite frankly something of a relief. They’re rowdy teenagers that Miguel wants to cuff around the ears and then feed.

But Miles? Well, the less said about what Miguel wants to do to Miles the better.

So Miguel keeps coming back to that window over and over again, keeps sitting on the fire escape and listening to Miles’ life play out. Even when Miles doesn’t put food out, Miguel is still there. Occasionally Miles even notices him, says a few words, asks him how’s he doing. He doesn’t name Miguel, which is nice, just calls him ‘That brown tabby tom. You know, the one with the big jowls? The one who looks like he’s listening and understanding me. Yeah, with the freaky red eyes, that one’. And Miguel enjoys these little interactions. He figures they’re all he’s going to get, and he’s fairly content with that.

Then one night he jumps up on the window ledge and yeah okay he’s dripping a bit since he’d managed to get himself caught in the spray from a car going by and it’s raining and thundering and isn’t going to be letting up anytime soon, but he still insists that’s not a very good reason to open your window and snatch up a stray cat.

If Miguel were a normal stray, he’d hiss and claw and bite the shit out of Miles. And quite frankly Miguel has to fight the instinct to do just that. Luckily Miles drops him pretty quickly, apologizing the entire time.

“I just can’t let you stay out there in that tonight, okay?” he says.

You’re an idiot, Miguel thinks.

“I’ll let you out again in the morning and you…try not to fuck up my room too much. Deal?”

Miguel doesn’t deign that with a response and instead focuses on trying to groom some of the muck and water out of his fur since he’s apparently staying the night.

Stupid fucking kid. Doesn’t he know he can catch disease from the claws and teeth of a cat?

Miles goes about his evening of doing homework and fucking around on his phone, feeds Miguel some dry kibble, then strips down and goes to bed. And Miguel…well, he’s only a man. Sometimes. Not any time recently, but still. He figures, well he’s not going to get this chance again. Miles is a good kid even if he is a bit naive and Miguel likes him a lot. He shouldn’t be rewarding Miles for letting dangerous, disease ridden alley cats into his bedroom but…Miguel still jumps up onto the bed anyways.

Miles starts then laughs. “Sorry, you scared me. Never had a pet before. Didn’t take you as the cuddling type either.”

Once upon a time Miguel very much was the cuddling type. But now he just takes the unused pillow next to Miles’ head and curls up there, relishing in the softness and the way Miles’ scent rises up around him. The rain is still coming down in buckets outside but for tonight Miguel is warm and safe and Miles is scratching him behind the ears before whispering good night.

This is in direct contrast to the way he yells, “What the fuck!?” as he’s falling out of bed the next morning.

Miguel sits up, alarmed, looking around for danger. Then he realizes that something doesn’t feel right. His senses are off, as is his equilibrium, and his vantage point is a hell of a lot higher than it was the night before. With a sinking stomach he glances down at himself and. Yep. Naked man.

Naked man in the bed of a terrified teenager staring up at him with wide eyes from the bedroom floor.

Miguel clears his throat awkwardly, rusty after so many years of disuse. He can’t remember the last time he’d taken this form.

Then he decides fuck it because there’s nothing he can say to make this situation better, actually. So he climbs out of the bed, throws open the window, and is shifted back into his cat form before his paws hit the fire escape.

He hears movement behind him, hears Miles yell, “Wait!” but Miguel is already gone.

#asks #requests #flowerfang

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twicecorner · 2 years

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Smoked Out

A/N: Smoking warning. AU-ish, this is all made up, I don’t encourage smoking nor do I think Jihyo would really act like this, but I saw a scene in a show and a little quickie idea popped up. I know this isn’t the TA series that a lot of you had hoped for, but the writing fuel came out and this is the small product. It’s different from my other works, not really smut, but maybe it could be, who knows.

2624 words; idek what genre to call this one lol angst? but not really? idk LMAO anyways enjoy🫣

Being a foreign worker in another country is never easy, but luckily you got to work with an amazing team at a nice company. You’ve been working at JYP with the world-renowned K-pop girl group Twice for about a year now. It’s only normal that you’ve found your place on their team and have finally started to be more involved with them in and out of the workplace setting.

One warm night the team, along with some of the girls, head out for some food and drinks after a long day's schedule. You’re surprised that they decided to go out tonight considering how long of a week it’s been and even more so surprised that even some members wanted to join in A nice Friday night of barbecue, soju, and beer, and the crew has become a loud bantering table at the small restaurant in the middle of Seoul. You’re laughing and making jokes with some of your co-workers and suddenly your phone rings.

“Hold on guys,” you take another shot of soju, “I’ll be back in a sec, I have to take this.” You stand up from your seat and head outside as the laughter slowly muffles when you close the door and head to the small alleyway next to the restaurant in the still Seoul summer air.

“Hello?” you question.

“What are you doing? Have you been drinking?” The other person responds quickly.

“Yes… it’s a Friday night and we’ve had a long week.” You meekly reply.

“What the fuck. Who’s we?? I thought you stopped drinking.”

“We as in my co-workers and I and quite frankly I don’t weally know why you’re bombarding me with questions right now… isn’t it like morning there?” Your words slightly slurring.

The person on the end of the line is the crazy ex that for some reason loves to keep tabs on you after your “messy” break up somewhere during your first month in Seoul. The initial phone call was made by you because you couldn’t handle the long-distance and that work was far too crazy to keep the relationship the way you wanted to, that breaking it off might be the best decision for both parties. Unfortunately, she didn’t pick up so you decided to leave a voicemail. A few days go by and you hear nothing from her. Your best friend from home calls you and tells you she’s been cheating on you ever since you left. 2 years of a relationship that you thought would be the last, down the drain. Your friends had always told you they’d seen red flags from her since you started dating, but ignorantly and “in love” you brushed them off. Now, you’re seeing the signs just a bit too late and clearly suffering the consequences. You took her silence as a sign of guilt or shame and decided to leave it at that. One phone call she made to you about 3 months after that incident is when she tried to explain herself, but you were having none of it, after hours of yelling and arguing and crying, you broke it off for good.

“You know how you get when you drink. This is why we shouldn’t have broken up. Why are you always out and ‘working’ don’t they give you time off? Do you even know what I’ve been going through?” She sounds like she’s about to keep yammering so you cut her off.

“We haven’t spoken in like months and you’re calling me now to complain? To yell at me? And for what?” It’s reached the point that this phone call has somehow managed to snap you out of your fun drunken daze and into a fed-up, upset mood.

“And what gives you the right to talk to me like that? For your information, I was calling to check up on you.”

“Oh really? And by doing what? Interrogating me on my life choices? I’m doing just fine here and I hope you’re doing well with that fucker from your office. You know I only picked up your call because some small fucking part of me still kind of cares about you and I thought maybe something had happened. But I guess not, so if there’s really nothing left to say, goodnight or good morning or whatever. Goodbye.” Click.

Fuck.. really out of all times she could have called. Bitch

You angrily shove your phone back into your pocket and pull out a pack of cigarettes. You told yourself you’d stop smoking when you left home, but sometimes the stress of the job was too much, and of course whenever you drank you’d have a smoke or two. Right now checked off both of those boxes. Fumbling with the pack and the lighter you manage to light one up.

Fuck god, I really can’t believe her you mutter to yourself as you slowly exhale your first puff of smoke.

“You know smoking is bad for you.” You hear a voice from behind you and it makes you jump a little.

“Oh shit-” you turn around and it's none other than Park Jihyo. And out of all people who could catch you now. “Oh Jihyo… Hi. Uh, I know, it’s just… I usually… you know.. Ah when I drink or I’m super stressed” You nervously hold the cigarette between your index and middle finger close to your leg, failing miserably at an attempt to hide what she already saw.

“Ah right, that’s what most people say hm?” She raises an eyebrow at you.

You let out a nervous laugh and shyly nod.

“So who was that? On the phone?”

“Oh did you hear? Sorry, was I too loud?”

“No, no I came out to get some air, it was getting hot inside” She replies.

“Ah, I see.” Your eyes look down at the floor almost like a kid that’s about to get scolded.

“You sounded upset. Are you okay?” She tries to meet your eyesight and you instinctively meet hers.

“Yeah…. Actually, no not really it was my crazy ex” You explain a short version of your breakup and the phone call to her. “Sorry, that was too much information, but I feel like I just had to get it off my chest.” After a breath you give in and take another hit from the cigarette, turning to face away from Jihyo.

“Oh wow. Okay yeah, that does sound stressful. I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

Another exhale of smoke. “Thanks. Um, I think I’ll finish this one and head back in, you should go back, and like you said, this isn’t good for you…” You’re a little ashamed, but truly this is not how you’d hope this night would go.

“You know, I’ve always wanted to try smoking.”

Her comment shocks you. “Really? But you’re a signer, and an idol no-less, this is like one of the top 3 things you never ever do.”

“My older cousins used to do it and I always thought it was kind of cool. They’d inhale it like you do.”

As she says that you coincidentally take another hit. Sucking it into your mouth, puffing your cheeks out once, and parting your lips slightly, re-inhaling the smoke through your nose. The French inhale technique. Before letting the smoke exhale back through your mouth and nostrils.

“Oh this… it’s a bad habit that I really intended on quitting when I came here and I was doing really well for a while before things got a little crazy and let my worst get the best of me.” Again you feel embarrassed. By now, the cigarette is about halfway finished.

“Can I try?” She asks.

“What? No! I can’t let you. Remember the whole signer, idol, kpop star thing.”

“Please just once” She looks at you with puppy dog eyes now.

“Jihyo no, you’re drunk and you’re gonna regret it.” You hold it even further away from her now.

“I’m not drunk I didn’t even have one drink. I have to take care of Nayeon and Jeongyeon who, when I left were competing to see how fast they could down their 4th soju bomb”

This back and forth goes on for about another minute until you give up. At this point, she’s playfully trying to grab it from your hand and you’re about to flick it into the street when she catches your wrist.

“Jihyo. No.” You hold her back with your other arm now.

“Make. Me.” She looks at you in the eyes with a stern sentiment.

“You’re not gonna stop are you?”

“Does it look like I’m the type to give up?” She quips back.

“Okay. Fine. But there’s a way that we used to do it back home that might hurt less for you. I’ve done this multiple times, just trust me.”

“Okay,” She flashes a gummy smile and pulls her hand off of you.

Leading up to this moment, you had to admit you’d developed a small crush on Jihyo after working with her and seeing how kind and talented of a person she is.

“It’s called shotgunning. And not the type with beer cans. I’ll take the initial hit and I’ll just blow a little bit of smoke into your mouth so you can emulate the sensation. Is that okay?” You explain the technique to her.

“Yes, I like the sound of that.” She replies.

“One time, and one time only. Do you understand?”

“Yes, yes let’s do it.” It’s a little puzzling how excited she is about this.

“Okay, here we go.” You take a final hit from the cigarette and hold the smoke in your mouth before dropping it to the floor and ashing it out with your foot. You continue the motions with the french inhale, but instead of exhaling through your nostrils as usual, you take a step closer to Jihyo and cup her face with your right hand. She leans up to meet you, face-to-face. With your left hand, you bring it to the other side of her face and gently part her lips with your thumb. You lean in closer, your lips brushing against each other now. You thought at this point she’d pull away, but she’s right there. You slowly exhale through your mouth, letting the smoke travel the short distance between your mouths. You only let out a little before blowing the rest out of the side of your mouth away from hers. Letting her naturally pull away, she playfully lets the smoke fall from her lips and she exhales the small puff. Closely watching her to make sure she’s okay, you instinctively place your hand somewhere on her lower back.

“Wow.” She looks with wide eyes at the small cloud of smoke dissipating into the air.

“Hm? Are you okay? Did that hurt? Burn?” You’re looking for any signs.

“No, it was okay. That was fun.” She touches her lips where your thumb parted them moments before. “I- I want to do it again”

“No, I already ashed it out. It’s gone no more.” You put your hands up in the air showing her there’s nothing there.

“N-no not that. That was a fun one-time experience. I’m glad it was with you” She seems a little nervous now.

“Then do what again? Oh, and I hope no one saw that, I don’t necessarily want to get fired for doing what feels like a crime.” You let out a light chuckle.

“This.” She steps back in front of you and grabs your arms, putting them back into the position they were in on her face. “Do that again,” Jihyo whispers and holds your thumb near her mouth.

You’re too stunned to speak at what you just heard. She wants me to kiss her? This is insane.

A slow nod is all you can reply with and you create the same motions, this time, her hands holding your forearms in place. You glide your thumb over her bottom lip as if asking permission and you bring your faces close together. Your lips brush over hers ever so slightly and you can feel her breath shakily exhaling and as if the feeling of butterflies make the same journey that the smoke did but in the opposite direction, you feel your breath hitch and your heartbeat speed up. Your eyes flutter closed and Jihyo seizes the opportunity.

She closes the thin gap between you and your lips collide. Her soft lips tangle with yours and you’re certain the fireworks are mutual. Like a movie kiss, it feels like time stops and the world stops spinning. The far memory of your ex dissipated with the smoke that left Jihyo’s lips and all you know is her lips on yours. A set of matching puzzle pieces, perfectly intertwining in this dimly lit alleyway. It feels like an eternity that you’re standing there kissing Jihyo and it may as well be, you’re content there with her. But the kiss comes to a natural end when you both pull away for some air.

“Wow.” She says under her breath, face inches away from you.

“I’ve been wanting to do that ever since I met you.” You confess, still gently holding her face.

“Me too,” Jihyo replies, looking deeply into your eyes.

You can feel yourself starting to take a few heavy breaths, processing what’s just happened and been said, but before you could, the two of you collide again. This time the kiss deepens quickly. Her hands now let go of your forearms and wiggle their way to hook behind your neck, yours move from their place on her cheeks and down to her waist, pulling her body to yours and closing every gap between the two of you. Her hands weave into your hair and push you further into the, now messy kiss. Tongues dance together, but you know you can’t do anything more than this now, especially in public even if it’s the late hours of the night here. But both of you want more, to feel more. She grabs one of your arms and squeezes it, a wordless “okay” as if to signal you. You realize how hard you’re holding her waist and let up on your grip, only to slide one hand down to cup her full ass. She moans into the kiss and takes a harder grip on your hair. As if the universe could see where this was about to go, you’re both startled when a loud car passes the alleyway. Instinctive speed kicks in and you separate your bodies, scared that you’ve been caught.

“Fuck…” you say catching your breath. Realizing now your pants are a little tighter than they were when you first stepped outside. Jihyo giggles when she also notices, “Wow that was fast”

“Yah! This is your fault!” joking as you motion towards your crotch.

“You’re lucky we live in the same place. I can fix that at a later time, but right now take a second to relax and hurry back inside, they’re probably wondering where we are. I’ll say we ended up taking a little walk to sober you up.” You’re amazed at how fast she’s able to process all of that and so nonchalantly bounce back to her leader persona. Jihyo skips back inside with a wide smile on her face.

Bringing yourself back down to earth, you pull your phone out and quickly block your ex’s number. And then you pull out the pack of cigarettes, emptying the pack onto a nearby trashcan, leaving one in the box along with your lighter, and shoving it back into your jacket pocket. “Just one. No more” you say to yourself, before heading back into the restaurant and rejoining the group.

A/N hi again… ik this isnt my usual smut-type work BUT imma have a solely smut oneshot coming out next in response to something I got in my inbox recently :D oh and im in the midst of editing and finalizing the first part of TA hehe as always thanks for reading <3 twc

#twice au #twice fanfic #jihyo au #jihyo fanfic

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cevansbrat0007 · 2 years

Text

Merry-Go-Round Magic: Andy's POV

Summary: Told from Andy's POV. Andy and Reader’s finally have their first date, but what happens when things don't quite go as planned? Andy Barber x Black!Reader

Read the original Merry-Go-Round Magic.

Read Morning After Magic.

*Warnings: Fluff, Slightly Insecure Andy Barber, Andy Barber Cuddles, Annoyed Reader, Confident Reader, Second Chances, First Date Floof, Cursing, Pet Names, Minors DNI

A/N: Please give me your feedback on this one! This is part of my ongoing Growing Pains Series. As always, please let me know what you think. Semi-proofread. Not beta’d. All mistakes are my own.

—

“Come on, man.” Andy mutters under his breath as he takes another sip of his whiskey. “Fucking talk to her before she leaves.” Trying his best not to be too obvious, his eyes stray yet again to the ebony haired pixie who was chatting animatedly with a friend less than fifteen feet away from him.

Known for his tenacity In the courtroom Andrew Barber was a force to be reckoned with, but for some reason he couldn’t get his feet to move. Letting out a resigned sigh, he turns his attention back to his drink, only to be surprised a few moments later when he feels a small hand on his shoulder.

“Hi there.” Her tinkling voice sounds even lovelier than she looks. “You look like you could use another one of those.” She gestures towards his now empty glass. “If you wanna be my friend, you’ll let me take care of that for you.”

Andy can’t help the smile that breaks out across his features. “Well, beautiful, If you want to be my friend then you’ll tell me your name and maybe have a drink with me. What do you say?”

“It’s Y/N. And yours?”

“Andrew. Andrew Barber, actually. But please, call me Andy.”

“Okay, Andy.”

The two continue to chat briefly before Andrew asks if he can maybe take her out some time.

“You know, my life has been kind of like a merry-go-round lately, but sure. Why not? I think I’m up for one more ride.” She grins, blessing him once again with her sweet smile.

“I promise you won’t regret it.” He assures her, his hand reaching for her own.

They thankfully manage to exchange numbers before her friend comes over to drag her away. And even though he doesn’t want to, he lets her go. He stares at her retreating form, silently noting how good her ass looks in that champagne colored dress. Then he tucks her number into his pocket and promises himself that he’ll reach out tomorrow.

You see, Andy was many things, but stupid wasn’t one of them. He’d felt the zing between them. There was no way he was going to pass this up, because if anyone deserved to feel a little magic…it was him.

Over the next two weeks, the two chat off and on via text. There was also the occasional phone call, but since they were both busy people, those didn’t happen often. And to be honest, he finds himself grinning like a little schoolboy every time his phone pings.

Tonight, the two were going on their first official date and he could not fucking wait. Time seemed to drag on and on. All he wanted was to fast forward through the day. The man cared about virtually little else.

He’d even offered to pick her up tonight but she had declined, opting to catch a cab instead. It was kind of a bummer, but he understood. He was a stranger and she wanted to ensure her safety. Frankly, he was proud of her for being cautious.

Even if it meant that he had to wait a little bit longer to be in her presence...

—

Later that day…

Andy patiently stands outside of Cibo Matto, a new downtown hotspot. Reservations were booked out at least a month ahead of time, but he knew a guy who owed him a favor. And tonight it was time to collect. This girl deserved only the best, and if he wanted a shot at a second date then he was seriously going to have to sweep her off her delicate little feet.

He bounces on his heels as he waits for her to arrive. She was close, he knew that much from her last text. But he’d been on pins and needles all day. He just wanted to see her, talk to her, hear her laugh…

Was that too much too soon? Maybe.

Did he care? Not really.

When her cab finally pulls up to the curb he jogs over to grab her door before she can, taking a moment to help her out of the vehicle. And then he motions for her to put her clutch away before leaning inside the passenger window to hand the cabbie a fifty dollar bill.

“Thanks for getting her here safely.” Andrew tells him. “Keep the change and have a good night.”

“Um, Andrew, thank you, but you didn’t have to do that. Let me pay you back –”

He cuts her off with a mock glare. “Don’t even think about it, Y/N.” He kisses her hand and then her cheek, before stepping back to get a good look at his date. Which, in turn, allows her to get a good look at him as well. God, this woman was spectacular.

“You look gorgeous, baby.” Andrew murmurs softly. “You have no idea how much I’ve been looking forward to tonight. I’m pretty sure I overloaded my poor interns today due to my lack of concentration, but damn was it worth it to see you like this.” His eyes roam over every inch of her, making her giggle.

“Let’s get you inside, hmm.” He offers up his arm. “And please, Y/N, call me Andy.” She offers him a dazzling smile for his trouble.

“Okay, Andy.” His responding grin is enough to make her heart stutter. “I’d, um, be lying if I said I hadn’t been looking forward to tonight as well. It was maybe kinda all I could think about.”

Andy grabs the restaurant door and ushers her inside. “Good.” He leans down to whisper in her ear. “You don’t know how happy that makes me.”

Having anticipated their arrival, the maître d' is quick to lead them to their table. After handing over the menus, he promises that their waiter will be with them shortly. Ever the gentleman, Andy pulls out her chair before seating himself.

Say something, man. Don’t fuck this up.

“Ah, um, Andy…” She coughs, feeling her cheeks heat all over again. “You’re staring.”

Shit!

“Sorry, sweetheart. I’m not trying to be rude, I just, uh…” One hand reaches back to rub the nape of his neck. “You’re just so beautiful that I get kind of lost, you know? It’s like I lose all train of thought.” He gives her a sheepish look.

She reaches over to grab his hand and gives it a playful squeeze. “I didn’t think you were trying to be rude. I was more concerned that maybe there was a spider in my hair or something and you were too afraid to tell me.”

“No, Y/N. No spiders, I promise. Now tell me, have you been here before?”

“Nope. I’ve heard good things though.” The waiter picks that moment to stop by the table. He introduces himself, only to leave and then return with a basket of fresh, warm bread and two dishes of infused olive oil.

“Ladies first. Go on and grab a piece, Y/N - their bread is fantastic.” Andy nudges the basket towards her. “You like it?” He asks, his eyes shining with amusement at the unconscious moan that escapes her lips.

“It’s so good, Andy. Like, nothing should be this good. I’m going to apologize in advance, but you’re going to need to get your own bread. This basket is mine.” She giggles before tilting the basket towards him.

He opens his mouth to say something when a man approaches the table. “Well if it isn’t Andy Barber! Good to see you!” Andy offers his date an apologetic look before standing and extending his hand to greet the other man. “Nice to see you, Dale.”

Now please kindly fuck off.

“I just wanted to congratulate you on your most recent victory in court. I didn’t see all of it, but I heard you were impressive as always.” The short, slightly balding man vigorously shakes his hand.

“I appreciate that.” Andy responds, looking mildly uncomfortable. “It was a tough case. But it wasn’t just me, a lot of folks were involved. A lot of hard work went into –”

“Ahh, nonsense!” Dale interjects. “Come with me for a moment. I’ve got a few people I need you to meet.” Andy’s eyes once again glance back to his date’s big brown ones.

“Look, Dale. Ordinarily I would, but as you can see, I’m on a date right now.” He gestures towards her way. “I’m sorry, I should have introduced you two. Dale Matthews, this is Y/N, my lovely companion for the evening.” She smiles and waves.

“Nice to meet you, dear. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to borrow our District Attorney for a moment. You understand.” He says dismissively, offering her a placating smile.

No, you pompous jackass. Not tonight. Andy thinks to himself. Tonight is supposed to be all mine.

“Dale, it’s just going to have to wait. I’m with this stunning young lady tonight and she’s my priority so –” Andy is once again cut off when another man joins them at their table.

What the fuck? Were they blind? Couldn’t they see that he was fucking busy trying to woo this beautiful woman?

“Hey there, Barber!”

Argh! If there was ever a time to forget my name, now would be it.

“I’ve been trying to find some time on your calendar to meet with you, but you’ve been booked solid. Dale and I have a couple folks we’d like to introduce you to. They’re right over there.” He points to a table located somewhere in the back, which is partially obscured from view.

Andy lets out a weary sigh. “I’m on a date, guys. Another time.”

“Nonsense.” The other man waves off his protests. “It’ll be quick. You understand, don’t you, sweetheart?”

No, she doesn’t. And neither do I. These douchebags don’t know when to leave well enough alone. But he did have a meeting with the Mayor coming up soon, so maybe it wouldn’t hurt if he just stepped away for the quickest of seconds.

Andy looks over at the woman across from him, clearly torn. “Y/N, I’ll be quick. I swear.” She nods, trying to hide her irritation. “I’m sorry, okay? Two minutes. That’s it.” Accepting her polite acquiescence for what it is, he leaves the table and walks off with the men.

She leans back in her seat as she feels the magic that had once surrounded the night begin to dwindle. The waiter stops by to ask if she has any questions about the menu, or if she wants to hear the specials, only for her to shrug and politely explain that her date had to momentarily step away.

As he leaves, she grabs another piece of bread and aggressively dips it into the oil, downing it in three bites. And then she picks up another. Once that slice is gone, she glances at her phone. She patiently waits another five minutes before getting up to go to the bathroom as she contemplates her next move.

—

Ten minutes later…

The longer Andy waits by the empty table, the more his feelings of panic grow. How long did a woman normally spend in a restaurant bathroom? She couldn’t have left, right? He stops their waiter as he goes to brush by him.

“I’m sorry, Francois, but did you happen to see the woman I came in here with? Beautiful, short, wearing a black blazer and pink blouse with –”

“Of course.” The gentleman clears his throat. “Apologies for interrupting, but the woman you’re describing spoke with Georgio before taking her leave a few moments ago. Would you like to keep the table?”

No, dipshit. Not unless it comes with my fucking date.

“No. No, I wouldn’t. Thanks.”

Picking up his phone, he gives into temptation and shoots her a text. So what if he ended up looking stupid? He was a desperate man willing to do whatever it took to salvage what was left of this fucking shitshow.

Andy: Shit, Y/N. Where’d you go?

Y/N: You seemed busy and my time is precious. Good night, Andrew.

Had she gone home already? No, no, no!

Andy: Sweetheart, I’m so sorry. Please believe me. Just tell me where you are.

She couldn’t have gotten far. He might still be able to catch her. Andy thinks to himself as he hits the “call” button.

Y/N: Keep your apologies because I don’t need them

Fuck! She’d sent him straight to voicemail.

Andy: Please answer, baby. At least let me know that you’re safe.

You: I’m a big girl who can take care of herself, Andrew. Now, in case you didn’t catch it the first time: Good Night.

That was it. He was going to track down his woman and demand that she give him a chance to make things right. Andy didn’t care if it took all night. In fact, he would almost prefer that it did. Because he wasn’t ready to give up on the evening just yet.

Now, where the hell could she have gone?

His eyes stray to Georgio, the maître d'. Yep, he’d start with him. He thinks as he pulls his wallet out of his back pocket before striding over to the older man.

It was time to make some magic happen…

—

Fifteen minutes later, Andy strolls into Obsidian. His intense blue eyes searching the spot for his little Y/N. His heart begins hammering in his chest when he finally spots her tiny form sitting at the bar waiting to cash out.

“Put her drinks on here, thanks.” He says, leaning over her shoulder to hand the bartender his card. She turns to face him, not bothering to disguise her fury. Yes, he’d pissed her off, but he could work with that.

He’d take anger over indifference any day.

“Y/N…” He breathes, looking down at her. “I -”

“What do you want, Andrew?” She huffs. “Better yet, how’d you even find me?”

He shrugs his big shoulders. “I might have bribed Georgio.” And he had, with a crisp $100 bill. His hair is all mussed as if he’d been running his fingers through it. Which he had been. Constantly. Ever since he’d realized she’d up and left the restaurant.

She blinks up at him.”Well, good for you. I can’t believe I have to say this for yet a third time, but goodnight, Andrew.”

“It’s Andy, baby.” His hand grabs her wrist as she turns to leave. “And I meant what I said. I’m sorry. I screwed up, okay? I tracked you down to ask you for a do-over. And…” He trails off when he gets a good look at her face. “Oh, Y/N, please tell me you weren’t crying.”

She tries to pull away. “I most certainly was not.” She tugs again but his grip, while gentle, remains steady. “And even if I did, it certainly wasn’t because of your stupid face, Andy.”

He lets out a deep sigh and uses just a fraction of his strength to pull her stiff body against his own so he can wrap his arms around her. “I’m sorry that you maybe, most likely, definitely did not cry because of me.” Her perfume smells like orchids and sunshine. “Let me fix this. I’m asking for a do-over. No, I take that back, I’m demanding it.”

This time he allows her to pull away. “You demand it? Is that right?” Her hands go to her hips as she gifts him with her most intimidating glare. Which he finds adorable by the way.

“That’s what I said, gorgeous.” He crosses his arms. “Any man worth his salt can and will acknowledge when they’ve fucked up, which is what I’m doing now. And in return, you’re going to let me feed you and show you the night I had planned for us before things went off the rails.”

She continues to glare at him for a moment as she weighs her options.

“What are you thinking about?” He asks, tilting his head to the side.

“Which shin I should kick you in.” She grumbles.

“Why choose?” He responds, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “I’ll offer up both of ‘em. The pain will be a small price to pay if it means having you back on my arm again.” Andy responds, wiggling his eyebrows.

Come on, sweet girl. Give me a smile. Just one.

She tries not to smile and fails. For now, she decides to blame it on the alcohol, not the big man’s charming personality or his swagger. “Argh, fine. But I don’t want to go back to where we were before.”

Andy offers her his arm, which she hesitantly accepts. “That’s not where I’m taking you, Y/N. I initially took you to that restaurant because I wanted to impress you, but I see I went about it all wrong. The point of a date is to get to know someone, so I want to take you to a place I go when I need to get back to my roots.” His large, slightly calloused hand briefly cups her face, his thumb stroking its way across her brow. “You game?”

Her eyes flutter closed as she nods. “Yes, Andy.” She breathes. “I want you to show me the real you.”

“Then let’s go.”

And just like that, magic had returned once again.

—

Arm in arm, a giddy Andy leads his lady down the street. He had a lot of making up to do, and he couldn’t afford to fuck up. He hoped to God he was making the right decision by taking her to his favorite place…

“Andy?” He looks down at her with a combination of relief and contentment on his face. “I think I should let you know now that these boots weren’t really made for walking.”

“Huh?” What did she mean? Her shoes looked perfectly fine.

“I mean that, while they’re nice shoes, they’re not necessarily the best when it comes to, uh, traveling long distances on foot.”

“Ahh, I see.” He chuckles. “Are they hurting you now?”

“Not yet.” She responds. “But I figured I’d put it out there ahead of time.”

Andy pauses mid-step to wrap his arms around her again. God, how he loved holding her. It was like she fit perfectly in his arms. “We’re almost there, but thank you for telling me. If it gets too bad at any point tonight, I suppose I’ll just have to carry you.” His eyes zero in on her lips, as if mesmerized. “I’ll settle for any excuse to hold you, baby.” Her flushed cheeks make him smile.

Honestly, it was good to know that she was just as affected by his presence as he was hers.

After another moment of heated silence, the two resume walking, eventually coming to a halt in front of a little hole-in-the-wall joint called Enzo’s. “This is it.” He murmurs in her ear, barely resisting the urge to nip the tempting flesh. “Let’s get you fed.”

The inside of the place is nicer than the exterior lets on. It’s clean and well lit, and it doesn’t stink of stale beer like some bars do. It’s busy, but not overly packed. Andy waves to the bartender, who happily greets him by name.

“Hey, Mitch. Good to see you, buddy.” He holds out his hand to the dark-haired man.

“Always a pleasure, Andy. It’s been too long. You gotta start coming around here more often, otherwise Camilla and Enzo are going to start thinking you don’t love them anymore.”

“Ah, well, we can’t have that.” Andy chuckles.

“And speaking of love…” Mitch trails off, his gaze straying to the woman at his side. “Who is this fine looking lady and what in the hell is she doing with you?”

“I’m Y/N.” She says, introducing yourself before holding out your hand. “Give me just a second, dove.” They both watch as he quickly washes and dries his hands. “Don’t want even an ounce of filth to touch you.” He responds when he returns to shake her hand. “Him I don’t care about.” That makes his lady laugh, a little harder than she probably should.

A little harder than Andy likes.��

Andy just rolls his eyes and tries to keep the tendrils of jealousy at bay. “Speaking of Enzo and Camilla, are they here tonight? I need the works, especially since I already struck out once and really can’t afford to screw up again.” He winks down at her.

“Yeah, I’ll let ‘em know you’re here. Your favorite booth is available in the back. I’ll bring you over a couple of menus in a moment.”

“No need.” Andy tells him. Mitch nods before turning to look at you. “And Y/N, if this man even steps so much as a toe out of line, you come let me know and I’ll throw his ass out the back door.”

“Thank you.” She murmurs with an amused grin. “But if he screws up again I’ll do it myself.”

“Oooh…I like her.” Mitch mumbles to himself.

So do I, pal. Now take your eyes off my girl already.

“Yeah, well that’s not happening. Let’s go, sweetheart.” He ushers her towards the back and into a booth.

Once they’re settled across from one another, she gives him a smile. A real, genuine smile. “I, um, I like this place much better, Andy. Now what are you feeding me, mister we don’t need menus?”

He reaches for her hand, intertwining your fingers. “Tell me, baby. Do you like lasagna?”

“Of course I do.” She responds eagerly.

“Good, because while it may not look like it, this place has the best lasagna in town. I’ll get two orders if you want, but one is generally big enough to split.” When the waitress comes over, Andy takes the liberty of ordering a bottle of Chianti, as well as the lasagna, the homemade meatballs, and an order of stuffed mushrooms as an appetizer.

“You should have led with this, Andy.” She tells him, her voice suffused with warmth. “This right here is the man that I wanted to meet.”

He lets his head hang for a moment. It was time for this hotshot attorney, the Bad Boy of Boston, to be honest here. “Y/N…I…I’m not good at this. It’s been a long time. It’s not an excuse, it just is what it is.”

“Hey.” She leans across the table to take his face in her hands. “It’s been a long time for me too. I don’t know what you’ve been through, and maybe if this goes somewhere one day you’ll tell me, but you’re doing fine.” She leans in to kiss his forehead. “I’m here with you, aren’t I? And it’s not because you demanded it, you ogre. It’s because I want to be, alright?”

He smiles at her then, one of the brightest she’s ever seen. And just like that, he could feel his confidence begin to return. He had this in the bag, all he had to do was be himself.

Y/N settles back in her seat just as the mushrooms and a set of plates are delivered to the table. Andy is quick to spoon some of the cheesy, sausage filled, bread crumby delights onto a dish. He cuts into one and softly blows on it before bringing the fork to her lips.

Her eyes never leave his own as she accepts the bite. The bread at Cibo Matto was good, but it had nothing on these mushrooms. She lets out an audible moan as her eyes roll to the back of her head.

“Good?” He murmurs as he offers her another taste, which she happily accepts.

“Better, Andy. This is fucking bliss.” He laughs at that. “Just wait for the meatballs, baby. If you’re not addicted to me yet, one bite of those and you will be.” He goes to feed her another piece of mushroom, only for her to refuse it under the pretense of wanting him to eat some too. Which was too bad, because Andy would happily feed his girl whatever she wanted for the rest of the night.

And the meatballs, when they finally arrived, were positively sinful.

While they waited for the next course, they talk about…pretty much everything. Their work, their families, what they liked to do on weekends. She talks about her love of cooking and trying new recipes, while he shares that he was hopeless in the kitchen. He confides to her about his love of musicals, while she tells him she prefers plays.

Andy casually mentions that he had been married once, and that he’d lost a child. He doesn’t go into it too deeply, not wanting to sour the mood. Thankfully, she doesn’t press him on it, but she senses his pain nonetheless.

They talk about the last books they’ve read. He finds it adorable the way she describes her favorite urban fantasy novel to him, almost as if she’s recounting it page by page. Honestly, if he had his way, he’d listen to her all night.

She shares her love of corny jokes, her irrational fear of birds, and her fascination with horror movies. Andy winces at that last part, muttering that he much rather preferred a good action flick or a comedy. But inwardly he resolves himself to the fact that if his lady liked horror, he would power through as long as it meant he got to hold her in his lap.

Why was he suddenly thinking so far ahead?

And then came the lasagna. Between the two of them, they manage to clean the whole damn plate.

Stuffed to the brim, Y/N leans her head back against the booth. “Oh Andy…” She moans before she can catch herself.

He looked forward to one day hearing her say his name like that over and over again…in bed.

After he pays the bill, he smiles and helps her out of the booth. “C’mon, Princess. There’s still one more stop left on this tour.” That has you groaning.

“Andy, I’m so stuffed I don’t know if I’m gonna make it.” Her hand goes to rub her belly before throwing her arms around him and pulling him close. “Thank you for dinner, darling. It was fabulous. Almost as fabulous as my dinner companion.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Now I guess I’ll try to power through. Where to next, Mr. Barber?”

—

Andy was having the fucking time of his life giving his girl a fucking piggyback ride…all because she told him her feet hurt. And he certainly couldn’t have that. Not on his watch.

“Andy.” She whines softly. “Are you sure, I’m not too heavy? I ate a lot of food back there…”

“Hush, baby.” He admonishes gently. “First of all you weigh practically nothing, and secondly, I ate just as much as you did. But let me tell you right now, I love a girl who can eat.”

She tickles his ears in response. “Stop that! I should never have told you I was ticklish.” What the hell did he care? If tickling him made her laugh, then she could damn well do it all night.

“You’re so strong, Andy. Bet you could bench press me.” She lets out another drunken giggle.

I sure as fuck could, beautiful. Please ask me to try.

“I’d be happy to try that on our next date, Y/N.” He can’t hold back the laugh that rumbles in his chest.

“Oh? You assume there’s gonna be a second date?” She goes to tickle his ears again, which prompts him to try to shake off her hands. “If I have my way, yes there will be. Now behave or you won’t get your surprise.”

Oh, who was he kidding? He was going to give her this regardless. He loved that she acted like a little brat when she was drunk.

His words make her settle down so that she rests her head atop his.

“Okay, Andy. I’ll be good.” Yep. He thinks to himself. Little brat.

A few moments later, he comes to a stop in front of what looks like an amusement park graveyard.

“Andy..?” Her pretty voice trails off.

“Shh, sweetheart. Wait for it.” Thirty seconds later, there’s a loud click and then a buzz as one of the rides comes to life. The merry-go-round is suddenly ablaze with lights, filling the park with a dazzling array of colors and music. And then the ride starts to spin, the differently decorated horses moving up and down.

“Andy…” Y/N slides off his back, her eyes glued to the spectacle taking place in front of them. “What is this?”

“It’s uh…I uh…” He strokes a heavy hand over his beard. Oh, God. Had his lame ass just screwed up again? “It’s just that when we first met, you mentioned that your life had been kind of like a merry-go-round lately, and not in a good way. And, um, I don’t know…I just thought maybe I would try to give you the fun kind.” He shrugs and looks away. “I’m sorry, it’s corny, I know.”

She continues to stare at him in disbelief, her eyes occasionally darting from him to the amusement ride. And then you look back at the lights. “You planned this…for me?”

“Yes, Y/N.” He lets out a deep breath. “For you.”

You had one shot, man. And you just blew it. What the hell had he been thinking –?

Andy’s forced out of his thoughts when he feels a pair of small hands take hold of his face. “You did this for me?” He nods, her thumbs briefly going to massage his temples.

“Andrew Barber.” She says with conviction. “I am going to kiss you now. I hope that’s not a problem.”

What did she just say?

“Why would that be -?”

She slants his mouth over his, doing her best to convey all of her appreciation and gratitude with every curve of her lips, every flick of her tongue. It’s not long before a stunned Andy takes over, cupping the back of her head, just in case she thinks about running off again. Briefly gathering his wits about it, he makes it clear that she is no longer in charge.

His tongue dominates her own, tasting and exploring every inch of her sweet mouth. They both moan into the kiss as she clutches at his shirt. His eager hands go to her ass, lifting her up so that she can wrap her legs around his trim waist.

She pulls away to whisper kisses along his face, his jaw, his throat - any part of exposed skin her mouth can reach. He pulls her back to his lips again, mumbling something about this being the best “thank you” he’s ever received in his life.

“I’m sorry.” She whispers when he finally lets her up for air. “That was aggressive and -”

“Don’t you dare fucking apologize.” He growls, his breathing heavy. “I’ve been wanting to do that all night. Now how about we go have some fun?” Andy lets out a whoop as she all but drags him over to the ride.

Together, they spend at least a good hour running round the platform, jumping on different horses - sometimes separately, sometimes together. And Andy is always right by her side, just in case. He’s there for every yip, every giggle, and every “oof”. He’s quick to learn that his lady can be kind of clumsy.

They dance and sway to the music, laughing as if they don’t have a care in the world. Because right now they don’t. It’s just him, Y/N, and a slew of ornately painted creatures.

“Andy, come on! Just one more ride before we go home!” Her laughter is infectious.

“It’s not going up and down.” She grumbles when he joins her on one last horse.

“It’s because the two of us together are too heavy, Princess. Let me get off so –”

“No, Andy. You stay on. Hold me and I’ll just pretend.”.

“As you wish, baby.” He buries his face in the crook of her neck and just enjoys the sound of her joyful giggles.

Eventually it’s time to go. One again, Andy hoists his now exhausted date onto his back. “Thanks, Al!” He calls over his shoulder to someone you couldn’t see. “I owe you one, pal!”

With that, he trots off towards the street where there’s a cab waiting. Andy hustles her inside, barely holding back a smile when she snuggles up against him. “Thank you, Andy.” Feeling possessive, he holds her head against his chest as if she were the most precious thing in the world.

And to him she was.

“Thank you for giving me a second chance, Y/N. Now let me get you home. What’s your address? Tell the driver.” She quickly rattles it off to the man behind the wheel. Andy also makes a note of it as well.

She falls asleep halfway through the ride back to her place, not that he minds. He hadn’t been joking earlier about looking for any excuse to hold her. Andy gently nudges her awake when they finally pull up in front of her brownstone. Once again, Andy pays her fare, shutting down all protests as he does. “Give me a second.” He tells the driver as he goes to escort her out of the vehicle and up the stairs of her home.

“Andy, tonight was amazing. Thank you. And I’m sorry I fell asleep on you. I didn’t realize how tired I was between the wine and the pasta and the horses.” She offers him an apologetic look. He lightly tugs on one of her curls in response.

“Thank you for giving me a chance. This was one of the best nights I’ve had in a long time.” He looks a little nervous now. “Can I see you again?”

She pretends to think for a moment, resting the side of her head against the ront door. “That depends.”

“On what?” His brow furrows, his eyes darkening with confusion and a hint of frustration while her hands go to his shirtfront. “Do you like to cuddle?”

What kind of game was this lovely creature playing?

“I fucking love it. Haven’t done it in a long time.” His voice is so serious it momentarily takes her aback.

“Settle down, Teddy Bear. You wanna come up?”

“Seriously?” He asks, his voice filled with surprise.

“Yep. You wanna cuddle…and only cuddle, you follow me. But that’s all we’re doing so -” Before she can finish, Andy turns to the cab driver. “Bye, buddy! Thanks for the ride - I’m gonna go cuddle with my girl!”

“Oh my god, you are ridiculous.” She rolls her eyes at him before holding out her hand, which he readily accepts. “Come on. We can discuss the possibility of a second date tomorrow. Depending on how good you snuggle with me.”

“Challenge accepted, baby.” Andy mutters under his breath as you lead him inside.

Challenge accepted.

—

Andy can barely contain his grin as she leads him up the stairs to her apartment. Tonight had been one hell of a whirlwind for sure. In a matter of hours, he had somehow managed to have the worst, followed by the best, date of his life. And now the little pixie with wild curls had invited him to stay the night.

Sure she had said that she only wanted to cuddle, and he respected that. But if she changed her mind, well…he respected that too.

As long as he got to spend time with Y/N he did not give a fuck.

“Well,” she says as she unlocks the door and gestures inside. “This is me, Andrew. Enter at your own risk. Oops - sorry. I mean, Andy. Enter at your own risk, Andy.” She throws him a playful wink over her shoulder.

Her place is a little on the small side and is tastefully decorated in shades of gray and pink. Closing the door behind him, an ever-curious Andy follows his date into the kitchen before gratefully accepting a bottle of cold water she pulls from the fridge.

He can tell she’s nervous. And truth be told, so is he.

“Remember,” she tells him, her determined although slightly shaking hand goes to rest on her hip. “Snuggles only, Big Man.” She quirks one dark brow as if daring him to protest. “This cookie is off limits until I say otherwise. You good with that?”

“Fuck yeah, I am. If it’s cuddles you want, then it’s cuddles you shall have.” Now it’s his turn to wink.

“Good.” The tiny sprite mumbles to herself. “So far so good.” But her hand is still shaking.

“Baby girl.” Andy coos softly. “Y/N, are you okay?” She clears her throat and then takes a long sip of her drink. “Just say the word and I’ll go.” Closing the distance between them, Andy reaches out to gently cup her jaw, the slightly roughened pad of his thumb stroking over the curve of her cheek. “So long as you let me come back in oh, I dunno, say five or six hours so I can take your beautiful self out for breakfast.”

At least give me that much, sweetheart. Please.

He’s relieved when he receives a blush and a giggle for his trouble.

“I want to do this, I do. I wouldn’t have invited you up if I didn’t want you here. I’m just protective of my space is all. This is my sanctuary, so you should feel lucky to have received an invitation, even though you’re not getting lucky tonight, handsome.”

“I’m a lucky man, indeed, Y/N.” He is quick to agree, lest he accidentally give her the wrong idea.

“Would you like another drink, Mr. Barber? Or perhaps the private tour of Casa Y/N/L/N? It’s kinda late, so I’m afraid this tour is going to have to start and end with my bedroom.”

“Water is fine, sweet girl.” He pulls her close, wrapping one brawny arm around her waist. “Let’s get you to bed.”

—

Fifteen Minutes Later…

After stripping off his shirt and pants, Andy sits on the edge of the bed to wait for his girl. Yeah, it was early, probably way too early for him to be thinking the way he was, but so what? Maybe if he played his cards right then his wish would be granted.

Now clad in only a pair of black boxers, he takes a moment to survey the cozy room, colored in various shades of pink and purples, complete with a matching wicker papasan chair in the corner. A few moments later she emerges from the bathroom wearing a pair of adorable Winnie the Pooh pajama shorts and a cami.

“Woah,” she breathes. Andy would have to be blind to miss the way she was checking him out. His confidence at an all-time high, he puffs out his chest a little allowing her to get a good, long look at his tattoo-covered torso.

“Like what you see, baby?”

“Yes. I mean wow. I mean hi.” She clears her throat. “Sorry, Andy. Your tattoos threw me off, I mean, I just didn’t expect you to have them, err, so many of them that is. Not that there’s anything wrong with – oh God. “It’s – they make you look unbelievably hot. Can I say that to you? Ahh, crap. I just said that part out loud didn’t I?”

He watches in amusement as she keeps going without showing any signs of slowing down.

“I have a tattoo too. I’ll tell you about mine if you tell me about yours. But you don’t have to. They just look so intricate and – did that one hurt? Fuck, I can’t seem to shut up. Sorry, shutting up and –”

“Baby, breathe.” Andy is suddenly in front of her, his big, warm hands going to gently grip her biceps. “There you go. Good girl.” He praises as he pulls her down onto the bed.

“Sorry,” she mumbles, unconsciously burying her face in the crook of his neck.

“Don’t be, Y/N.” He coos softly before repositioning their bodies so that they’re relaxing comfortably. “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know. Hell, I’ll even talk you to sleep if you want…”

Pulling away slightly, she gives him a soft look. “Did you just offer to tell me a bedtime story, Andy?”

“I did, so get comfy and I’ll tell you all about this one right here.” Gripping her much smaller hand in his, he helps her fingers trace the artwork marking his right pectoral. Her eyelids droop as he begins to speak. “So, I got this one when I traveled to…” Andy allows his own fingers to thread themselves through her curls as he soothes her to sleep.

“Good night, Big Man.” She murmurs as she drifts off.

“Good night, Sweet Girl.” He whispers back.

END

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sophierequests · 1 year

Text

the lights and noise are blinding // academic affairs part two

Navigation┃Main Masterlist┃Requests

Pairing: Jesper Fahey x gn!Reader

A/N: Back again with a Jesper x Reader fic! This is part two to a miniseries I started, so please read part one before this one. You can find the link to the miniseries masterlist right under the author's note :)

This is part two of an ongoing miniseries! Find the miniseries masterlist here!

Summary: The reader goes out to meet Jesper at the Crow Club to give him back his jacket. Or are there other reasons involved?

Genre: Fluff, a tad bit of Hurt/Comfort

Word Count: 5.6K

Warnings: Gambling, drinking, typical Crow Club shenanigans, poor proofreading

“Sooo, who’s the lucky guy or gal that managed to pry you away from the library every once in a while?” You almost choked on your tea in response, clearly not expecting your previously semi-serious academic discussion to take that turn.

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, don’t act dense, Y/N!” your friend groaned, grabbing the textbook out of your hands and tossing it to the couch next to you. You let out a dissatisfied huff, folding your arms in front of your chest to signalise that you were not about to be involved in any sort of gossip she was about to wring from you. “The jacket. It’s so not your style. Definitely not yours.”

She pointed to the rust-coloured leather jacket that you had slung over the backrest of your chair. Jesper’s jacket. It had been over three weeks since that fateful encounter at the institute and, regrettably, he had been on your mind ever since. You had no idea why it took him so long to come back to the University District, but you began to worry that something might have happened to him. Having an article of clothing that constantly reminded you of him only managed to distract you even more.

After the first week of him not showing up to see you, you began taking his jacket with you to university; just to have it at the ready once he came to get it back. You hadn’t intended on wearing it as often as you did, - quite frankly, you hadn’t intended on wearing it at all - but whenever your eyes would find it hanging on your coat rack in the mornings, you just couldn’t help yourself. By now it didn’t even smell like him anymore. The strong smell of gunpowder mixed with cinnamon and what you assumed to be his cologne had lingered in your flat for close to four days and you had to admit that you were a bit disappointed that it had ebbed away that quickly.

Saints, you sounded insane. You barely knew him!

“Well,” you stammered, your brain going into overdrive while you attempted to search for a believable lie. Your friend raised her brows almost comically high, a shit-eating grin spread all over her face while she watched you haggle for words. Maybe you’d just have to settle on telling half-truths instead of lies. “It’s not like that, Mila. He’s just a friend.” She snorted, giving an incredulous look which you tried to ignore as best as you could.

“A very good friend I assume?”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes. “Like I said, we’re just friends. He came by to visit me at the institute a few weeks ago and gave me his jacket for my way home because I had left mine at home. Nothing more and nothing less.”

Mila was visibly dissatisfied with your answer, still looking at you as if you had just told her something utterly otherworldly. “And he didn’t want it back?”

“He told me that he’d drop by to get it, but he obviously didn’t do that yet.”

“He’s probably still busy thinking about more ways to ask you out after his first attempt of giving you his jacket seemed to have flown completely over your head.”

“Mila!” you laughed before you bent down and picked up the previously discarded textbook, giving her a few gentle slaps on the shoulder with it.

“Okay, okay! I’ll drop it!” she yelped, blocking your assault by putting her arms in front of her. “But I have to admit, this jacket does look nice. You should genuinely think abo- ow!”

“Jesper, what’s going on?” Inej sighed, finally taking it upon herself to ask the sharpshooter why he had been acting even more erratically than usual during the last few weeks.

He looked up at her from his spot on the couch, biting the inside of his cheek as he thought about a possible explanation for his restlessness. The only problem was, that he really didn’t know why he felt so on edge recently; he only knew that it had to have something to do with your appearance in his life. He couldn’t stop thinking about the way your face had been lit up by the welcoming light of the oil lamp, the warm feeling of your hand on his thigh, or the wide smile you gave him when he gave you his jacket. It intoxicated him, made him reckless and stupid. He wanted to see you again, but he also needed to ensure that he could keep seeing you afterwards.

“What are you talking about?” he laughed nervously, tapping his foot to at least be in some sort of movement.

Inej sat down next to him, laying a hand on his knee which he promptly jerked away. He didn’t know why he did that, but something about her almost motherly behaviour ticked him off. Her gesture was very similar to yours, yet it just wasn’t the same. Inej wasn’t you.

Thankfully, she didn’t use this sudden reaction against him, merely giving him a concerned glance before pulling her hand away. “You’ve been acting…different recently, Jes. I worry about you, what’s on your mind?”

“I don’t know what you mean, nothing is wrong.” He had the urge to stand up and leave. Inej’s scrutinising gaze made his instinct to flee stronger than ever.

“I don’t believe you.” She didn’t catch his pleading eyes that begged her to drop it. Or maybe she did and just didn’t care enough to stop. “Ever since you came back late that one night three weeks ago, you started acting like you have something that is bothering you. Something happened and it’s been on your mind since then. I just want to know how we can help you, please.”

Jesper let his hand run over his face in exasperation. He knew that lying to the Wraith would be futile, she’d figure it out eventually anyway, but the nagging voice inside his head told him to keep this one secret. To keep you for himself.

“I promise you, there’s nothing wrong. I’m fine. You don’t need to worry.” There’s nothing any of you could do to help me anyway.

He could see the apprehension in her eyes. She didn’t want to leave him in this state, however, if he wasn’t willing to talk to her, there was not much she could do to change that. Unwillingly, she stood up, giving him a curt nod before turning to leave.

She paused at the threshold of the door, casting another hopeful glance at her friend. “Just so know, should you ever want to talk about…whatever it is that’s on your mind, I’m always there to listen.” With that, she was gone, soundlessly slipping through the dim cracks of the Slat like the phantom she always had been.

The room was draped in silence again, the weight pressing down on his chest and burying him underneath it. If he didn’t take the initiative to see you again soon, he’d probably never bring himself to do it.

For now, he needed another type of distraction though.

You hadn’t been able to focus on the books in front of you for the entire day, especially not after your friend had pointed out the fact that Jesper still hadn’t been back to retrieve his jacket. You were seriously starting to think about all the worst-case scenarios, ranging from him getting stabbed and thrown into the harbour to him being taken by the Dime Lions and tortured in some dim basement. Even though it was a terribly stupid idea, you decided to take matters into your own hands.

Quickly, you pulled on the most casual-looking outfit you owned, throwing it on carelessly before grabbing his jacket and leaving your flat. Going to the Barrel alone and in the middle of the night could definitely be added to the list of your less intelligent decisions, but you couldn’t help thinking about the damned sharpshooter and whether or not he was alright. You needed to see him with your own eyes to calm every erratic nerve pestering you about it.

The walk to the Crow Club was a bit longer than you had expected. You had been here before, right after your first semester ended and you and your friends wanted to go out to get drinks since the clubs in the University District were more like glorified cafés than actual bars. It wasn’t your kind of establishment though, filled to the brim with pushy men or other odd figures looming around every corner. Nevertheless, you tried to look past your previous experience and still find some entertainment in your uncharacteristic nightly expedition. You were here for a very specific reason this time. A charming, lanky reason, that is.

Upon pushing open the already battered wooden door that lead to the club, you were met with the pungent smell of cigarette smoke, spilt alcohol and what you assumed to be vomit. You looked around the room cautiously, rooted to your spot next to the door. A few people thrust past you, laughing almost maniacally as they staggered outside, visibly drunk. This really was not your kind of establishment.

It wasn’t as crowded as you had expected it to be, however, it was deafeningly loud. People yelled, laughed and quarrelled loud enough for the words to reverberate inside the cramped space around you. Jesper really did fit right into this mess of a place.

Speaking of the devil, when your eyes landed on one of the gambling tables at the other end of the room, you spotted exactly the person you were looking for. He sat at the head of the table, shaking a pair of dice inside his hands and letting them hit the crimson cloth with a certain skilfulness one mainly saw in people that frequented dens like this. You frowned at that thought. Him being a gambler would explain a lot; his relationship with his father, his indenture to the Dregs, the thrill of always seeking something to bring up his adrenaline. But it also reminded you of your father; a man lost in the game, barely ever having enough money to take care of himself and eventually getting swallowed by the constant need for something he just couldn’t win. Needless to say, this habit hadn’t worked out well for him.

Still, you decided to weave through the crowded room, avoiding the prying eyes of the other patrons who seemingly had nothing better to do than to stare at people that didn’t quite fit in here. The closer you got, the more of the table you saw. The other men sitting next to him looked decades older than him, sunken in faces, uncombed hair and crooked grins on all of their faces. There was also a younger boy standing next to him, leaning against the wall and casting woeful glances at Jesper. His hair was an eye-catching shade of red, some strands almost shimmering golden as the light hit him. He looked a bit too frail for the Barrel, small shoulders, shy eyes and a generally pretty defenceless stance, but somehow, he seemed to fit in better than you ever could. Occasionally, he tried to speak to the sharpshooter, who in return, only dismissed him with what you assumed to be a playful or teasing comment, leaving the younger-looking boy with flushed cheeks every time.

You approached the table slowly, mentally going through all the possible ways you could begin a conversation. None of your initial ideas felt right, judging by the fact that you literally only met him once. What could you even say to make this not completely awkward for the both of you?

Hey, I don’t know if you still remember me, I was the person that saved your ass a few weeks ago and with which you continued to talk for roughly three hours afterwards. Anyway, here’s the jacket that made probably everyone around me think that I have a boyfriend because I started wearing it while I waited for you to return.

Yeah, that sounded like a great plan.

While you were still busy contemplating your words, his head turned to face you. He initially didn’t see you, the flashiness of the Barrel providing enough distraction to swallow you whole, but after doing a double take, realisation dashed over his features. You watched as he said something to the others surrounding the table, giving his red-headed friend a pat on the back before scrambling to stand up. The friend in question looked at him with a befuddled expression before shaking his head and wandering off. You wondered what kind of relationship the two of them had.

Jesper didn’t give you too much time to think about that though, since he appeared in front of you in a matter of seconds. There was a wide smile painted all over his face, and he hadn’t even seen the jacket in your arms yet. Instead, he seemed to be absolutely elated to see you. The mere thought of you having that effect on him made your heart rage against your ribcage.

“Y/N?” he asked giddily, almost as if he couldn’t quite believe that you were actually in front of him.

His next move was a stupid one, but he acted purely on impulse. Without thinking about it, he leaned down towards you, wrapping his arms around you to engulf you in a surprisingly tight hug. You reciprocated the gesture, albeit a bit hesitantly, resting your hands on his back to not have them awkwardly hanging at your sides. Hugging him felt surprisingly welcome; you wouldn’t have complained if the two of you stayed like this forever.

After a few moments, he pulled away, a slight hint of embarrassment filling his eyes. “I, uhm, sorry, that was inappropriate. I’m just happy to see you again,” he stammered, taking a quick step back to put some distance between you. You were almost disappointed when he did so, but you couldn’t possibly pull him towards you again.

“Oh no, it was totally fine, don’t worry about it,” you tried to reassure him, smoothing over a few wrinkles on the jacket that was still draped across your arm. Suddenly, you remembered the reason why you came here in the first place. “I came here to bring back your jacket.” You held it out to him expectantly, waiting for him to acknowledge it.

His smile faltered ever so slightly, not enough for it to be noticeable to anyone else but him. Of course you weren’t here for him. He was delusional if he had genuinely believed that you cared enough for him to come to the Barrel just to see him again. He shouldn’t have projected his own feelings onto you this much.

He reached out to take it from you, his fingers accidentally brushing over the exposed skin of your wrist. It felt as if this brief contact sent an electric shock through him, causing him to quickly pull away, not noticing the way your eyes latched onto the spot he touched.

“Thank you again for lending it to me, it kept me from freezing my ass off on my way home. You didn’t come to pick it up, so I already expected that something was holding you back.” He didn’t miss the way your eyes flickered towards the cards table, swallowing thickly as he realised what you thought he did instead.

“I wanted to, I really did. But my boss wasn’t too happy about the fact that I was gone for so long. He forced me to watch the door basically every day since then as a punishment. I only got him off my back this week.” He bit his lip, not quite content with his rather clumsy delivery. “I’m sorry, I should have let you know or shown up a bit sooner. It was unfair of me to expect you to watch it this long.”

“It was no trouble at all, Jesper. I was just starting to get a bit...well, worried since you didn’t show up.” You wrapped your arms around yourself, suddenly feeling very empty without the jacket in your hands. “I hope you don’t mind that I fixed some of the bullet holes, I assumed they weren’t there for stylistic purposes. If they were meant to be there I'll be happy to open the stitches again.”

Jesper looked down at his jacket, immediately spotting a handful of stitches that closed the holes and rips he had been too lazy or busy to repair. He allowed his hand to trace the lines of your handiwork that were basically invisible next to the other seams of his jacket. His heart fluttered when he thought about you taking the time out of your day to sit down and sew together all of the damage he had caused. He decided to ponder all the other implications of this statement later.

“Y/N, you really didn’t have to,” he mumbled, still focused on the fabric in his hands. “That must have taken so long.”

“And you didn’t have to give me your jacket. I just wanted to even out our debts.”

“Even out our debts? I still owe you for saving me from the Dime Lions, my debt to you isn’t paid off in the slightest, sweetheart.” He bit his tongue instantly after finishing that sentence. Calling you ‘sweetheart’ was definitely pushing the limits, he was sure of it. Would you have been literally anyone else, he wouldn’t have minded. But you weren’t just anyone.

Much to his surprise, you either hadn’t noticed his slip of the tongue, or you simply didn't seem to mind. “Maybe I could accidentally walk into Dime Lion territory on my way home so that you can jump in and rescue me?”

“I’d rather you use it that pass for something less lethal.”

“Noted.”

Jesper casually slung the jacket over his shoulder, staring at you for just a little bit longer before opening his mouth again. “Care for a drink?”

You gulped; you hadn’t prepared yourself for that offer. You actually hadn’t prepared yourself for anything other than giving him his jacket back. Of course, you wanted to stay with him for a while longer, but drinking with him while you were still unsure of how you felt seemed like a terrible idea.

“I really don’t think I should, you’re probably really busy and I don’t want you to get into more trouble. I also should probably head back home now, it’s already a bit late.”

He frowned. Everything started off so well and now you wanted to leave? This was not how he wanted your second meeting to go. “I promise you won’t bother me.” Quite the opposite actually. “And you won’t get me into trouble. Stay here a bit longer. Please?”

“Fine,” you smiled, making his face light up in an instant.

His free arm found its way around your shoulder, stirring you into the direction of the bar as if you wouldn’t have been able to find it on your own. Your body was flush to his side, the warmth of your skin seeping through the two layers of clothes separating you almost effortlessly. When you looked up at him briefly, he could feel your hot breath hitting his neck, and even if it was just for a split second, it made a range of goosebumps rise in its wake. His heart was going crazy inside his chest, but he tried to downplay his panic as best as he could.

At the bar, he ordered for the both of you, quickly putting a stack of kruge in front of the bartender to keep you from attempting to pay for your own drink. “Drinks are on me,” he laughed, bumping your thigh with his and giving you a cheeky wink.

The bartender placed two glasses of whiskey in front of you, a few ice cubes swaying in the amber liquid. He shoved your drink over to you, almost spilling some of its content in the process. It made you wonder whether he already had a few glasses before you arrived here. Jesper lifted the glass into the air and you mirrored his gesture. You let the glasses clink, the ice inside them echoing the sound as both of you put them to your lips. You’d probably regret drinking something when you still had to find your way back home later, but that thought definitely wasn’t at the forefront of your mind.

“You know,” Jesper’s voice broke the comfortable silence between you. No matter whether it was his first or third drink, the alcohol did seem to have a slight effect on him. The lopsided smile that spread over his entire served as enough proof for you to believe that. “I quite like that outfit,” he said, his eyes wandering up and down your body as if he felt the need to underline his statement. “It suits you. And it’s good to know that even someone like you is able to let loose every once in a while.”

“Someone like me? What is that supposed to mean?” you snorted, feigning offence to hide how light-headed his compliment had made you. Or maybe it was the whiskey, you weren’t quite sure.

“I didn’t mean, uhm, I meant that I didn’t expect someone as smart as you to have something so fitting to wear for an…establishment like this.” He gestured around the room roughly, ignoring the muddled glances the other customers gave him.

“Aw, you think I’m smart?”

“Probably one of the smartest people I’ve met,” he replied with surprising sincerity. He hastily put the glass back to his mouth to keep himself from spilling any more of his honest feelings.

“You haven’t met many smart people then.” You could feel the heat rise up to your cheeks and hoped that the warmth wasn’t also accompanied by a physical manifestation.

The two of you kept talking for what felt like an eternity. He ordered a few more drinks, while you were still busy nursing your first one. Walking home drunk in the middle of the night didn’t seem like the best thing to do, so you wanted to keep at least an ounce of your previous sobriety. You wanted this conversation to last forever, despite the fact that you could do without the constant shattering of glasses or drunken yelling of names. It wasn’t a noise level you were used to, but one you’d definitely be willing to endure if it meant spending more time with him.

As much as you wanted to stay, after some time you felt the weight of the day have an effect on you. You were constantly suppressing a yawn and it became harder and harder to stay focused on whatever topic Jesper was talking about now.

“Tired much, love?” he laughed, but a faint hint of disappointment tainted his words.

“A bit,” you yawned again, not trying to hide it this time. “I should probably go back to my flat now, I have to get up early tomorrow and I don’t think a lack of sleep will help me with that.” He gave you an acknowledging nod, not trusting his voice to stay composed. “Thank you for the evening though, I enjoyed being here…with you.”

“I enjoyed myself too,” he assured hesitantly, sliding off his chair and offering you his hand to stabilise you while doing the same.

You accepted his offered hand, carefully getting back to your feet while trying to not stumble over your own feet. When you were back on your feet successfully, you kept his hand in yours for a moment longer, letting the touch linger until it became suffocating. You quickly removed it when you saw him pursing his lips, internally praying that he didn’t think of this as weird.

What left his mouth instead went in a completely different direction. “Would you like me to bring you back home? It’s not really pleasant to walk around the Barrel during this time of the day, so maybe you’d like someone to accompany you.”

Even though you wanted to tell him that it wouldn’t be necessary, the offer sounded so tempting that you just couldn’t bring yourself to refuse it. “I’d like that.”

With a dazzling smile, he threw on his own jacket; the same jacket you had worn only a few hours prior. But of course he didn’t know that. He led you out of the club, the noise immediately fading away as he shut the door behind you.

You walked next to each other, a fair amount of distance between you that was just close enough to imply that you were friends, but also just far enough to imply that you weren’t more. His pace was surprisingly secure, probably way securer than yours, even after more than a handful of drinks. You almost envied him for his skill of keeping himself this steady.

His pace faltered a bit when you approached a somewhat wretched multiple-story high building that had probably seen better days at some point. Two people stood in front of it, eagerly conversing about a topic you couldn’t quite make out. The man was completely clad in black, a sorrowful, almost annoyed, look on his face as he leaned on an extravagant cane with a crow’s head on top of it. You imagined that he wasn’t necessarily a pleasant person to have a conversation with and pitied the smaller woman that stood next to him. She, however, didn’t seem to be bothered by his glare at all, merely continuing to speak to him in a hushed voice. She was also dressed in black, but with a few hints of purple sticking out from beneath her cloak. Her long black hair was neatly plaited into a stiff braid that swayed behind her loosely as she moved.

“That’s the Slat.” Jesper leaned towards you, nodding in the direction of the building you had been looking at. “All the Dregs live there. It’s kind of trashy, but it’s home nonetheless.”

“You live there too?”

“Yep.” He pointed at one of the windows on what you assumed to be the third floor. “Right there.”

“And do you also know who-”

“Jesper!” A gruff voice cut you off rudely. It took you a second to realise that it belonged to the man with the cane, whose attention was now completely focused on the two of you. He raised his brow suspiciously when his eyes met yours. Simply making eye contact with a man this rough made the blood in your veins freeze.

Jesper sighed, giving you an apologetic look as he turned to look at the raven-haired stranger again. “What is it, boss?” he asked, almost making you choke on your own spit.

That was his boss? Suddenly you felt even worse for stopping him from getting back to work all those weeks ago. A man like this surely didn’t have much mercy when it came to punishments.

“Tell your…company to go back home on their own and get yourself ready,” his boss ordered, a certain amount of venom lacing his voice as he spoke. “We have a job on West Stave tonight. I expect you to meet us at the Crow Club in fifteen minutes. You better hurry.”

“But Kaz, I-”

“Jesper.”

“Okay, fine,” he groaned, watching as the man disappeared inside the building again. The girl stayed there a bit longer, mouthing something that you could only think of as a silent ‘sorry’ before also taking off to go Saints know where.

Jesper turned to look at you, his previously chipper and excited demeanour completely gone, replaced by a rather sombre expression you couldn’t quite follow. “Y/N, I’m so sorry, I didn’t-”

You put up one hand to get him to stop talking, an understanding look on your face. “It’s fine, Jesper. It’s work, and as much as I would have loved to keep talking, you should probably better get going. Your boss doesn’t really seem like he’d take it too kindly if you’re late.”

“He wouldn’t,” Jesper muttered under his breath, visibly frustrated. “You sure you can get home on your own? I can ask one of my friends to keep you company. At least until you're out of the Barrel.”

“I’m sure I can handle it.” You bumped his shoulder with yours, hoping to at least bring a little smile to his lips. The corners of his lips tugged upwards a bit before he cast an anguished glance at the door of the Slat.

“I should better get going then, or else Kaz might genuinely have my head for this.”

“Which would be a real shame for someone as pretty as you.” You wanted to take the words back as soon as they slipped from your lips, knowing that this kind of flirtatious behaviour was going way too far for people who only met each other twice. But he didn’t seem to mind, a genuine grin gracing his features.

“It really would be a shame.” He pursed his lips to say something else, but you beat him to it.

“Just in case you’re interested, the offer of you dropping by to visit me at the institute still stands. With or without your jacket.”

He stood still for a second, uncharacteristically still. You feared that you had said something wrong, maybe even something inappropriate. Maybe you should have dropped the comment about the jacket. Maybe that was a bit too straightforward, too pushy. Maybe-

“You’ll be so annoyed when I actually end up taking you up on that offer.”

“I think I’ll be able to handle myself,” you laughed, a weird sense of excitement overtaking you as you turned his words around in your head. “Now go, or else your boss might rip off my head instead.”

He gave you a mock salute before turning around to leave, barely unable to contain his newfound giddiness.

You were really in for it now.

“Who was that?” Inej threw an inquisitive look at Jesper while they trailed behind Kaz whose pace was unsurprisingly brutal today.

“Who was what?”

“The person you were walking with earlier. I haven’t seen them around here before.” She inquired carefully, not missing the faint blush that tainted his cheeks now. “You looked quite happy with each other. Are you friends?”

Were you friends? He wouldn’t call you a stranger, or even an acquaintance, but calling you a friend made it feel like things were moving way too quickly. And maybe they were. Time seemed to be nothing more than a concept since meeting you.

“They aren’t in the Barrel.”

Inej blew a harsh breath out of her nose, obviously dissatisfied with his less-than-sparse answer. “How do you know them then?”

“I, uhm, we’re friends…”

“Friends?”

“Friends from uni.” That wasn’t a complete lie at least.

“You managed to make friends in one week of barely going to your classes?”

“And they stuck around long enough to still be in contact with you now?” Nina chimed in as she hastily jogged up to them. Of course she wouldn’t let this sort of juicy gossip just pass by.

“Apparently they did,” Jesper grumbled. Why did they have to bring all of this up now?

“Wait.” Nina stopped dead in her tracks, narrowing her eyes while she kept on staring at the jacket he was wearing. “Isn’t that the jacket you ‘lost’ when you went on that job three weeks ago?”

“Like I said, ‘losing’ was relative in that situation…” At this point, he would have preferred walking next to Kaz.

Inej’s eyebrows threatened to shoot off her face as she began connecting the dots. “Jesper! Are you…seeing someone?” She sounded as if it would be inappropriate to suggest that he could, in fact, be in a romantic relationship that went further than the casual hookup.

Nina’s mouth stood agape, a wicked grin spreading over her face. “Oh my Saints, are you seeing that ‘friend’ from university? Did you give them your jacket? My, my, who knew that you were such a romantic?”

“I don’t see how this is any of your business,” he stammered, speeding up his pace to fall into step with Kaz.

The girls didn’t dare to question him again that night, but they sure as hell remembered this crucial piece of information to tease him with during the following days.

When Jesper fell into bed after their job, you were still the main focus of his thoughts. He couldn’t bring himself to occupy his mind with anything else but the intoxicating feeling of your smile, or the warmth of your body against his. He was so lost in thought that he didn’t even feel the need to take off anything other than his boots.

His head dropped onto his shoulder as he lay there, wrapped up in a terrible myriad of thoughts and what-if scenarios that just didn’t want to be still. However, something about the smell of his jacket sobered him up in a matter of seconds.

It was to be expected that it would smell differently after three weeks of not being in his possession, but this scent was strong. Stronger than it should have been. It smelled clean and homey, a mixture of scented candles, old books and some floral perfume he hadn’t smelled before.

No.

He had smelled it before.

Of course, it was your perfume.

He sat up straight, shrugging off the jacket and smelling it again. He was really starting to feel insane now.

The jacket smelled like you.

And he didn’t want it to change.

Taglist:

Grishaverse fics in general: @yesshewrites1 @dal-light @pomagranteseeds @treasureofmy-heart

Jesper Fahey: @ell0ra-br3kk3r @writingmysanity @fall-writes

#jesper fahey imagine #jesper fahey x reader #jesper fahey #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone imagine #netflix shadow and bone #shadow and bone #grishaverse x reader #grishaverse fanfic #six of crows x reader #six of crows imagine #six of crows

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chvoswxtch · 2 years

Text

we'll handle it together. (8/?)

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: eddie munson desperately needs to graduate this year, and you're the only tutor that hasn't turned him down. (this is part 8 of this series!)

warnings: cursing, some angst, steve harrington being precious, explicit sexual content (minors dni)

word count: 8.6k

a/n: alright my loves, here is part 8. I would like to formally apologize for breaking all of your hearts in the last part. you guys know i'm a slut for drama. as promised, this part is much nicer and fluffier and even spicy because you earned it. I would once again like to say how much I appreciate you all taking the time to read this series. all your little comments and messages mean so much to me. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated! please let me know if you would like to be tagged!

tags: @uraveragequeer @rosaline-black @willowss055 @lovsersclub @bellegirl16 @boeutiful @starryeyedkoko @korkisobsessions @fckyeahlames @mybeautifulprincess @softxmunson @superflannel

Nancy, Robin, and Steve didn’t leave my side for the entirety of the night. I woke up to the sound of my alarm clock, sandwiched in between Steve and Nancy and looked over to see Robin on the far side of the bed. I was quite frankly shocked we had all managed to fit on my full size mattress. Steve was the first to stir awake, groaning as he reached across all of us to shut off the incessant ringing. He stilled when he looked down to find me fully awake.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

“You uh..sleep okay?”

“I did, surprisingly. You make a great pillow.”

“Well, I don’t mean to brag but..I have had sources confirm that.”

I tried my best to smile, but I’m sure it had come off as a grimace based on Steve’s reaction. All the events from last night came flooding back, and I tried my hardest to keep it together. I felt Nancy lightly squeezing my hand.

“It’s okay, we’re here.”

I was suddenly overcome with guilt as fragments from last night started to piece together. Nancy finding me in the woods, Robin holding onto my hand the entire car ride, Steve carrying me because I couldn’t find the strength to walk. I felt so guilty that I had made them worry, that they had to take care of me because I had been reduced to a useless mess. I frantically searched each of their eyes, a fresh wave of tears rolling in.

“I’m so sorry, you guys. I’m so sorry about last night. I..I didn’t mean-”

“Hey, shh..it’s alright. You’re alright. You don’t have to be sorry. We just..we were so worried about you. We’re just happy you’re safe.”

Nancy brushed a strand of hair out of my face as she looked at me apologetically. I heard my bedroom door creak open and saw my mom standing in the doorway, glancing between each of us with concern. I took a deep breath as I gathered myself together. I owed them all an explanation.

As we all sat around our small kitchen table, I placed my acceptance letter in the middle of it and told them everything that had happened between Eddie and I since the night he found it. I had to take pauses as I got closer to what Eddie had said last night, feeling that lump form in my throat that threatened to restrict my voice. I explained why I hadn’t said anything about the letter, and what my reasons were. My mom pulled me into a tight hug, running her hands through my hair and told me that everything would be okay. Nancy, Robin and Steve all looked at me sympathetically. None of them knew what to say. I didn’t expect any of them to have all the answers, at that moment I just felt so immensely grateful that they were all here for me. Even poor Steve, who I had spent more time with in the past twelve hours than I ever had in my entire life. I apologized profusely for his involvement, but he simply waved it off and said that’s what friends were for.

To the surprise of everyone, I went to school that day. My mom had repeatedly told me I could stay home, but I couldn’t. I doubted the school would believe I caught the flu again in May when I had just had it last month. Besides, I couldn’t just stay home and wallow again. I needed distractions. I needed to keep myself busy.

Avoiding Eddie was easy now that our tutoring sessions had ended. We had no classes together, or even close to each other. I didn’t go to the cafeteria anymore for lunch, or even the library. I stayed in the newsroom with Nancy and found things to work on. I still felt hollow, but I did my best to make it through the day. I just had to keep it together until I got home. Sometimes I saw some of the boys during passing periods, each one of them offering me a regretful smile. I wondered what Eddie had told them. I did my best to coerce a smile, especially when I saw Dustin. I think I had missed him the most.

For the next two weeks, I fell into a routine. Get up, go to school, try to make it the whole day without breaking down, come home and fall apart in the safety of my bedroom. I tried really hard not to think about him, because then my chest would get tight and my vision would go blurry, and it felt like the wound was being ripped open all over again. There were so many traces of him, so many memories, lingering on every surface of my life. I had once tried to sit down and write him a letter, to just get out all of these feelings that were screaming to be released. I got as far as ‘Dear Eddie’ before it became a mess of wet paper and bleeding ink.

“Y/N!”

I turned my head to see Dustin running down the hall towards me, frantically waving a paper in his hand. He leaned against the locker next to mine, trying to catch his breath as he looked up at me.

“I need a favor. You’re really good at papers and stuff right?”

“Uh, yeah. Why, what’s up?

“I need you to look over this for me.”

Dustin handed me a stapled stack of three pages that had messy writing scribbled all over it. I glanced over it before looking at him quizzically.

“What’s this?”

“It’s the final draft for my English class. I need an expert opinion. I’m gunning for an ‘A+’ here. Look I gotta go, just meet me in the drama room at two with notes and we can go over it.”

“What? But I-”

Dustin leaned up to peck my cheek, flashing me a toothy grin before taking off down the hallway and yelling behind him.

“You’re the best, I owe you my life!”

For the first time in two weeks, I actually smiled. I glanced down at his papers, figuring I had the time to look over it during lunch. At least it would give me something to focus on. Settling in at a table in the newsroom, I took out my purple pen and got to work. However the more I read, the more confused I became. Dustin’s paper was littered with simple mistakes and errors. Dustin Henderson was a very smart kid, and I knew there was no way his final draft was done this carelessly by accident if he was “gunning for an A+”. It almost felt like he had done it on purpose.

I continued to re-read over my notes as I approached the drama room. My eyebrows were still knit in the center of my forehead as I tried to decipher why exactly Dustin had given me a purposely messy paper. I didn’t look up from the page as I opened the door and entered the room.

“Dustin, can you please explain to me why this paper is so-”

I instantly froze in place at the sight of the person sitting on the throne at the end of the table.

Eddie.

He seemed just as surprised to see me. I swallowed thickly as I glanced around the room, finding it empty except for him. I turned to him with confusion laced over my features. “Where’s Dustin?”

“Physics, I think. Why?”

My lips parted once it finally hit me. Dustin had set me up. I gripped onto his paper, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly as I sighed. Eddie watched me curiously, his head tilting to the side in question.

“I..he..he wanted me to look over his paper. I..thought he would be here. Um..can you just make sure he gets this.”

I placed Dustin’s paper at the far edge of the table. I was partly filled with anger at his meddling, but instantly softened knowing it had come from a good place. He just wanted to help. I readjusted my backpack over my shoulder, quickly turning around to book it out of the room, but Eddie’s voice stopped me in my tracks.

“Did you accept it?”

I turned around to look at him in perplexment, arching one of my brows.

“Accept what?”

Eddie stood up slowly, tapping the pencil in his hand against his palm a few times.

“Your offer letter.”

I clenched my fists at my sides, feeling anger beginning to seep into my veins. I had spent the past two weeks feeling heartbroken, completely ruined by what I’d had and what I’d lost. It was like I had been in mourning since that night in the woods. But all that pain was transforming into fullfleged vexation as I entered the third stage of grief. I wanted to throw the nearest object at him, grab him by his collar and scream at him for being so fucking selfish. For thinking it was his right to make all the decisions based on his feelings. I could see the apprehension growing in his eyes the longer he looked at me, like he somehow knew he had struck a nerve. Why even bother? He won’t listen.

“No.”

I grit out the word with as much incense as I could fit. I shoved the door open with the sheer force of my irritation and stormed off down the hallway. I could hear his sneakers squeaking against the tiled floor as he jogged to catch up with me, cutting me off as I rounded the corner. There was an intense look of determination on his features as he stared down at me, chest heaving up and down either from running or adrenaline, refusing to budge.

“You have to accept that offer.”

“I don’t have to do anything.”

“Y/N..we talked about this-“

“No!”

Eddie jumped back slightly, flinching as my shout cut through the empty hallway. I pointed my finger towards him accusingly, jabbing it into his chest.

“You talked about it. I didn’t get to say anything. You took it upon yourself to be the sole decider of the fate of our relationship. You wouldn’t even let me get a fucking word in Eddie, not a single fucking one. So don’t stand there and try to tell me what to do, or so help me God I will punch you square in the face.”

Eddie swallowed thickly as he stared down at me. His face was a mixture of shock and regret. He dragged his palm slowly over his face, holding his fist against his mouth. After a moment of silence, he took a cautious step forward and looked down at me pleadingly.

“I just..I don’t understand. I don’t understand why you’re not-“

“You would understand if you would’ve just listened to me.”

I wasn’t going to cry. Not here. Not in front of him, not again. I adjusted my backpack over my shoulder and turned to walk away. I was getting really fed up with everyone trying to tell me to do things that they thought were best for me. I was sick of no one asking what I wanted. Eddie grabbed onto my hand and gently pulled me aside into an empty classroom. I furrowed my brows as I stared up at him, watching as he crossed his arms over his chest after gesturing towards me.

“Okay, I’m listening.”

“Eddie, it's too late for that.”

“Don’t..don’t say that. Please. Just..just..tell me. I’m listening, I swear.”

I stared at him silently for a moment, wondering how the one person in the world who brought me so much joy had also been the source of so much pain. My fury fizzled out as quickly as it emerged. I just felt..tired. I dropped my backpack onto one of the empty desks, crossing my arms over myself protectively as I stared down at my shoes.

“Did I ever tell you why I wanted to go to New York so badly in the first place?”

“No, I don’t think you did.”

Eddie’s voice was quiet, soft. He leaned back against the desk behind him as he watched me silently.

“My dad used to tell me stories about it. He used to say the entire city was made of magic. That..as soon as you got there..you just shed the person you were, and finally got to become who you really wanted to be. All you had to do was find the magic. And I..believed that. I..I begged him to stay the night he left. I tried to hide his suitcase..his keys..tried to block the door. I tried so hard to make him stay. Did you know he still lives in Hawkins, just across town? He got remarried, he has new kids, a whole new life. He never calls or sends letters, never so much as a birthday or a Christmas card. I decided that night that when I was old enough, I was gonna run away to New York. I was gonna find that magic. I was going to be someone..so important..and shine so fucking bright that even my dad couldn’t ignore the light all the way here in Hawkins. I thought..it would heal me.”

I could feel myself getting choked up and I knew I had to keep myself together or I wouldn’t be able to get the rest out. I had to get it out.

“But I was wrong, Eddie. I was so wrong. I don’t need to be healed..because I already have been. Slowly, along the way, ever since that night. By my mom, Nancy, Robin, even Steve. But especially by you. You’ve all filled in that void in me that he had left behind. I don’t want to start over anymore. I like my life, just the way it is. I don’t want to lose it. I don’t want to lose everything I’ve worked so hard to build. I didn’t make that decision for you, Eddie. I made it for me.”

Eddie shakily rubbed his palm over his mouth as he looked down at his feet, closing his eyes tightly. I could see the tears glistening on his cheeks as he shuddered quietly. I took a deep breath as I wiped the tears off my own cheeks, taking a few small steps closer towards him.

“I can’t force you to love me, the way I love you. I can’t force you to want to be with me. If you truly feel that you aren’t good enough for me, then I can’t change that. But if that’s the truth, then you are not the man that I thought you were. Because the Eddie I love would not have given up so easily. He would’ve moved heaven and hell to prove to everyone that he was meant for me. I love you, but I will never, ever beg someone on my knees to stay ever again. You have a choice to make Eddie Munson. Make it.”

I didn’t wait for a response as I left the classroom, taking a detour outside to sit at one of the picnic tables alone. I tried to focus only on the feeling of the warmth from the sun on my skin. The pain in my chest still lingered, and maybe it would always be there, but I felt lighter..like I could breathe again. I couldn’t make Eddie’s decision for him, but I wouldn’t let it break me.

The sound of a horn honking repeatedly caught my attention as I exited the front of the school. I glanced over to see Steve waving me over through the passenger side window of his BMW. Cocking my head to the side in confusion, I made my way over towards his car and bent down slightly to look at him through the open window.

“Hey, what are you doing here?”

“Nance said she’s working late on the paper tonight and you would need a ride. Hop in.”

“Oh..you don’t have to do that. I could’ve walked.”

“Nonsense, come on.”

I pulled open the passenger side door and climbed in, setting my backpack down between my feet. I pulled the seatbelt across my chest and fastened it into the buckle as Steve began to drive away towards the direction of my house.

“You sure you don’t have anything better to do than drive me home?”

“Y/N, I have struck out with ten girls in the past two weeks. I work at the local video store, and have no career plans. And on top of that, I’m a glorified babysitter to four shitheads. So no, I have nothing better to do.”

I giggled softly as I looked over at Steve, who seemed completely unamused with his own confession. One of the silver linings to everything that had happened with Eddie is I had made a very good, but unlikely, friend in Steve Harrington. Once he had pulled up to the front of my house, he turned off the ignition as I grabbed my backpack from the floor.

“Hey uh, I wanna talk to you about something.”

“Oh..okay.”

I slung my backpack over my shoulder as I got out of the car, pushing the door closed gently. Steve rounded the car to stand in front of me on the sidewalk, crossing his arms over his chest as he looked down at me.

“Nance said you were thinking about skipping prom.”

“Oh..um..yeah. I just..I mean Jonathan is flying in to go with her, Robin finally asked Vickie..I just don’t want to third..or fifth wheel I guess. I don’t want to ruin their night, you know? It’s supposed to be like..magical. They shouldn’t have to babysit me all night.”

“Shouldn’t it be magical for you too?”

“I..I don’t know. I didn’t get a dress because I wasn’t sure if..if I could convince Eddie to go. And even if I did have one, prom is like next weekend. Even if by a miracle, there was one person at Hawkins High that didn’t have a date already, I don’t want to go with a stranger.”

“So don’t. Go with me.”

I searched Steve’s expression for even an ounce of playfulness, but he was completely serious. I sighed softly as I shook my head, glancing down at my feet.

“Steve..I’m not going to let you be my pity date.”

“Hey, it’s not a pity date. I want to go with you. I happen to think we’ll have a great time. And not to brag but, I take really good pictures.”

My lips stretched into a grin immediately as I rolled my eyes. I readjusted my backpack over my shoulder and placed my hand on my hip, arching one of my brows playfully.

“Sure you’re not just trying to see if you could win prom king again?”

“Added bonus.”

Steve shrugged as if it was the simplest thing in the world. As if going to prom with me was really that simple, and had no complexities behind it. My shoulders fell slightly as I thought back to how excited I had been for prom just a few weeks ago. I really thought I was getting through to Eddie, and that he had just been drawing out his teasing before he agreed to go. Steve took a small step forward and placed his hand on my shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Look I uh..I know how you feel. What you’re going through I mean, it’s uh..”

“Debilitating?”

Steve stared down at me blankly for a moment, his eyes darting from side to side before clearing his throat and blinking a few times.

“Right..exactly what I was gonna say.”

I wrapped my hand around his wrist and leaned my head against his forearm, smiling sadly up at him.

“It won’t be weird? Going to prom with your ex-girlfriend and her boyfriend?”

“You really gotta kick a guy when he’s down, huh?”

“I didn’t mean it like that! I just..you don’t have to go with me if it’ll be weird.”

“It’s fine, really. Me, you, Robin, Vickie, Nance..Jonathan. We’ll all have a good time, alright? It’ll be fun.”

I bit down on my bottom lip anxiously. I supposed it couldn’t hurt going with all of my friends. Maybe I wouldn’t get my Pretty In Pink moment, but I’d survive. Steve placed his hands on his hips and frowned as he looked at me.

“You’re really gonna make me do this, aren’t you? Alright, fine. I’ll do it.”

“Do what?”

Steve threw his hands up in the air dramatically before getting down on one knee, taking one of my hands in both of his. He sighed as he looked up at me, biting back a grin.

“Y/N Y/L/N, will you please do me the honor of going to prom with me?”

“Steve, get up.”

“No. Not until you say you’ll go to prom with me.”

“And if I say no?”

“Then I’ll..die here, I guess.”

I burst into a fit of laughter, rolling my eyes as I grabbed onto Steve’s arm and tried to tug him up onto his feet, but he wouldn’t budge.

“Okay, okay! Yes I will go to prom with you, Steve Harrington.”

Steve pumped his fist up into the air victoriously, brushing his perfectly styled hair back into place.

“Alright, I’ll go tell Nance the good news. She’s on standby to take you dress shopping.”

My smile faltered a little bit at Steve’s words and a crease formed between my brows. That twinge of excitement that was slowly building had been snuffed out.

“Wait..did she..did she put you up to this?”

“What? No, no no no. It was my idea, I promise. I just told her to be ready to take you since, like you said, there’s only about a week and a half for us to find something to wear, and I plan on making the entire school green with envy.”

Steve wore a proud smile on his face as he wiggled his eyebrows. I rolled my eyes so hard I thought they were going to get stuck in the back of my head, but I couldn’t hide my smile. If there was one thing Steve Harrington was good at, it was comforting people. I took a step forward and tilted my head slightly, looking up at him with a grin.

“How do you feel about purple?”

If you had told me I would be going to prom with my best friend’s ex-boyfriend, I would’ve laughed. Probably maniacally. Hell, if you had told me even four months ago that I would actually want to go to prom, I wouldn’t have believed you. I always knew Nancy would talk me into going, but I never really felt the desire to go until Eddie. I wanted to go with him. I hadn’t heard from him in over a week since we had last talked. I felt a pang in my chest at the thought of him. I just wished he could see himself, the way I did.

Nancy had helped me pick out a beautiful violet dress. The bodice was covered in duochrome pink and silver sequins, and had small violet flowers beaded throughout the entire top. The bottom of the dress was long and flowy, moving back and forth like a tide at every twirl. My mom had helped me with my hair and makeup, since that was her area of expertise. My hair was done in loose curls, the left side pinned behind my ear with a piece that matched my dress. She had been light handed in applying the cosmetics. I didn’t want to go overboard, I still wanted to look like me, just a little more elegant.

“Alright, all finished honey.”

My lips parted in surprise when I looked in the mirror. I had always struggled with my self confidence, but even I couldn’t deny that I looked pretty. I felt pretty. I did my best to hold back tears as I looked at my mom in the mirror, placing my hands on her wrists as she wrapped her arms tightly around me from behind.

“Thank you, mom. It looks incredible.”

“You look incredible, honey. I know..I know this night is not going exactly how you pictured it. But I really hope you have a great time tonight with your friends. You deserve it.”

The sound of the doorbell pulled us both out of our thoughts. My mom lightly squeezed my shoulder with a soft smile.

“I’ll get it.”

I quickly threw on some sparkly dangly silver earrings, a simple necklace, and the shoes my mom had helped me pick out. After giving myself a once over in the mirror, I took a deep breath and smiled softly at my reflection.

“You can do this. Just let go for tonight.”

Steve was wearing a dark gray suit with a tie that perfectly matched the color of my dress. His head turned in my direction at the sound of my heels clacking on the floor and a wide grin spread over his lips.

“Wow..you look beautiful.”

“Thank you. You..look beautiful too.”

Steve laughed as he shrugged his shoulders, fixing the top of his tie.

“Well, I had to keep up with you.”

After he slipped the corsage of violets onto my wrist, I carefully pinned his matching boutonniere to his suit jacket. Steve was right, he did take good pictures. He was basically a professional. After an ungodly amount of pictures, I had to remind my mom that we were supposed to all meet up at the Wheeler’s house to take another ungodly amount of pictures. We’d be lucky if we made it to prom on time.

“Alright, have so much fun sweetie. I love you so much. Steven, take care of my daughter. No drinking and driving. Now I realize you two are going as friends, but considering I was pregnant with you at my prom, I want to once again reiterate that I am not ready to be a grandmother.”

“Oh my god, mom. We’re leaving. Goodbye!”

While I was dying of embarrassment in the passenger side of Steve’s car, he was grinning like an idiot.

“Your mom is so cool. And hot.”

By the time we finally made it to the school, my vision was spotty and I swore I could still see camera flashes behind my eyes. The theme for prom was Starry Night, and the gym looked absolutely beautiful. I didn’t even recognize that it was the gym. There were dark blue and purple lights everywhere that cast a deep twilight glow over the entire room. Above us there were hundreds of wihte string lights with large silver stars hanging from the ceiling. It really did look like the night sky when you looked up. All the tables were decorated with candles and star shaped confetti. I was honestly blown away. The prom committee had really outdone themselves.

Throughout the evening, I found myself actually having a good time. I didn’t even have to pretend. For the first time in weeks, I wasn’t faking it. I had completely let go of all my inhibitions and allowed myself to just enjoy the moment. Steve and I had detoured over towards the refreshment table to grab some punch since it felt like we had been dancing for hours. There was a slight sheen of sweat on my forehead, and I happily guzzled the cup Steve gave me. He had abandoned his suit jacket hours ago, his sleeves now rolled up to his elbows. Somehow, his hair still looked perfect.

“Your hair defies all laws of physics, you know that right?”

“What can I say? I’m a perfect specimen.”

I giggled as I went in for round two on the punch. I felt like I was finally able to breathe normally again. Steve leaned against the table as he looked down at me with a warm smile.

“Are you having fun?”

“I am, actually. I’m having a great time.”

“Good, I’m glad.”

I was suddenly overcome with an intense sense of gratitude for Steve. I don’t know why I felt so emotional at that moment, but I discarded my cup and rushed forward to pull Steve down for a tight hug. He seemed to be caught off guard at first, but didn’t hesitate to envelop me in his arms.

“Thank you, Steve.”

“You’re welcome, Y/N.”

“I..I really hoped that I would get to spend this night with Eddie. But..I’m really glad I’m getting to spend it with you.”

“Well, the night is still young. Don’t give up hope yet.”

I pulled back slightly to look up at Steve’s face dubiously, but he wasn’t looking at me. His gaze was fixed on something across the room. I turned my head slightly to follow his line of sight, a shocked gasp tumbling from my lips.

Eddie.

I almost didn’t believe my own eyes. Eddie Munson had shown up to prom..and had on a tie. He wore a familiar ripped pair of black jeans, a black button down I had never seen before, his leather jacket without the denim vest on top, and a tie. I had to blink a few times to make sure I wasn’t imagining him. I quickly turned my head to stare up at Steve in bewilderment, only to find him already staring down at me with a soft smile. I was speechless.

A clearing of a throat had us both turning our heads in the direction of the sound. Eddie stood right beside us, eyeing Steve’s hands that were still on my waist before meeting his gaze with a slight nod.

“Harrington.”

“Munson.”

“You mind if I steal her for a dance?”

“That’s up to her.”

I glanced between the two of them, still completely stunned, as I tried to figure out what was going on. Steve released his grasp on my waist, flashing me a quick wink and nodding in Eddie’s direction. I swallowed thickly as I turned to face Eddie whose eyes were raking over me.

“Um..yeah. Okay. I’ll..I’ll be right back, Steve.”

“Take your time.”

Eddie held his large hand out for me to take with a timid smile on his lips. I slowly reached up to take his hand, still trying to process what was happening, and let him lead me to the middle of the dance floor. He placed his other large hand on my waist, causing goosebumps to arise over my exposed skin despite the heat of the packed gym. I raised a shaky hand up to grab onto his shoulder, letting him intertwine our other hands together. We began to sway from side to side together languidly. He was silent for a moment, his eyes trained directly on me. I shivered under his gaze.

“How did..you..I thought you didn’t get a ticket?”

“I didn’t.”

“Then how-”

“Steve sweet talked the girl at the front. Distracted her long enough for me to run like hell.”

I couldn’t stop the giggles that spilled from my lips. Eddie Munson was crashing prom, in typical Eddie Munson fashion. The thought of him bolting through the hallway as Steve hit on the girl at the front only made me laugh even harder, which caused Eddie’s lips to split into a wide grin.

“Of course you did.”

Eddie smiled lovingly down at me which made my stomach twist into knots. The smile on my face fell slowly, confusion bubbling around in my brain once again. There were so many questions I had, but one stood out in particular.

“Did you two plan this?”

“It’s a long story.”

“But-”

“And I don’t have much time. Steve bought me a small window, but it’s only a matter of time before someone spots the freak of Hawkins High and I get thrown out. But..I just..I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t get to have at least one dance at prom with the prettiest girl in all of Indiana.”

My breath caught in my throat and I felt my heart starting to race at Eddie’s words. Warm tears were slowly forming on my waterline and I had to close my eyes to keep them at bay. I felt Eddie’s arm wrap around my waist, pulling me in closer to his chest. My grip on his shoulder tightened as I took a few deep breaths, opening my eyes slowly to stare into his. His large brown eyes scanned my face cautiously, his tongue darting out to lick over his lips.

“Eddie..what are you-”

“Making a choice.”

Eddie let go of my hand so he could cup my cheek, tenderly brushing his thumb along my cheek bone. There was a sad smile on his lips as he stared down at me. I brought my hand up to wrap around his wrist. I could feel that familiar lump beginning to take over my throat.

“The right one this time.”

“Eddie..”

“You were right. I was being selfish, and a coward. When I found that letter..I panicked. I felt like I could see it all slipping away..see you slipping away. I thought..I thought I was doing the right thing, but I was wrong. All I did was hurt you and I’m sorry..I’m so fucking sorry, sweetheart. I never wanted to do that. I just..I only ever wanted what was best for you. But you..you were right. I didn’t ask..and I should have. I shouldn’t have made that decision for us. And I swear, I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you..and proving that I’m worthy of you. I’m the guy for you, Y/N Y/L/N.”

I couldn’t speak. All of the words floating around in my head didn’t seem to be enough. They weren’t anywhere near strong enough to describe how I felt at that moment. I couldn’t tell Eddie how I felt, so I decided to show him. I grabbed onto the back of his neck and surged forward to capture his lips with mine. I heard him groan in relief against my lips, felt all the tension in his body evaporate as he relaxed into my touch. His arms wrapped tightly around me like he was scared I would disappear if he put any distance between us. I didn’t care who was watching, because it felt like it was just Eddie and I in the middle of that dance floor.

I had missed this so much..I had missed him so much. Every ounce of desire, every painful inkling of need, every craving I had for Eddie Munson came flooding back with a vengeance. I made a choice that very second that tonight would be the night I would give myself to Eddie Munson. I pulled away hesitantly, staring up at Eddie like he hung the moon in the sky as I panted.

“Eddie..I’m ready to leave.”

I couldn’t remember if I had mentioned to Steve or Nancy that I was leaving but at the moment I also didn’t fucking care. I would apologize later. Eddie and I crashed through the door of his trailer, a mess of needy and fervent kisses as he led me down the hall to his bedroom. I pushed the leather jacket on his shoulders down onto the floor, grabbing onto the sides of his face tightly as his mouth devoured mine. I could feel his fingers fiddling around for the zipper on my dress. After a few moments, he pulled away in exasperation and spun me around quickly.

“Jesus Christ, how the fuck do you get this off?”

I tried my hardest not to laugh at Eddie’s vexation, turning my head to look at him over my shoulder. His tongue had darted out between his plump lips and his face became fixated in determination.

“Easy, don’t ruin it! There’s a clasp above the zipper that keeps it from coming down. You just have to unhook that first.”

“Did I tell you how fucking beautiful you look in this?”

“Only about a million times, but who’s counting?”

Eddie popped the hook off the clasp, taking the zipper between his thumb and index finger and pulled it down the seam along my back slowly. Eddie took a step closer, pulling me so that my back was flush against his chest as he began to pepper soft kisses along my shoulder and up my neck. I lulled my head to the side, sighing softly at the feeling of his warm mouth on my skin. His breath was hot against my ear as he whispered.

“Well consider this a million and one. You look so fucking beautiful, angel. But as much as I love this dress on you, I wanna see the rest of you.”

Eddie pushed the dress slowly down my body until it pooled around my calves. He grabbed my waist to hold me steady as I stepped out of it, turning around to face him. His eyes widened as he took in the sight of me. I had decided against a bra, wearing only a pair of white lace panties under my dress. There was an animalistic growl that sounded from deep within Eddie’s chest and it went straight between my thighs.

“Fuck angel..please tell me this wasn’t for fucking Harrington.”

I giggled softly as I stepped forward, taking Eddie’s tie into my hand and using it to pull him down closer towards me.

“No, Eddie. It’s not for Steve. I just couldn’t wear a bra with the dress and..these..made me feel pretty.”

Eddie’s hands ran down my hips slowly, reaching around to grab onto my ass causing me to giggle softly. He leaned in closer, brushing his nose against mine and trailing blazing kisses along the underside of my jaw.

“Why don’t you let me show you how damn pretty I think you look.”

“Please.”

As Eddie discarded his tie, my fingers made quick work of the buttons on his shirt, eagerly shoving it off of his shoulders. I dragged my nails lightly down the expanse of his bare chest which made him hiss and lean his head back, giving me the perfect opportunity to attach my lips to his neck. I nipped and sucked softly on the skin above his collarbone, basking in the sounds of the moans he let slip. He swallowed harshly and gripped onto my waist as I pulled his belt loose.

“God..you’re gonna be the fucking death of me.”

Eddie gently pushed me down onto my back, slotting his body between my thighs as he captured my lips once again and kissed me deeply. I pushed his jeans down his thighs, giggling as he struggled to kick them off. I was so worked up already I couldn’t stand it.

“Eddie..please touch me.”

“Fuck..I love hearing you say that. I love the way you say my name, angel. Sounds so sweet.”

Eddie teasingly brushed his fingertips along the edge of my panties, pulling needy whines and whimpers from my lips. He loved to hear me beg. I lifted my hips up slightly as I whined, my mouth hanging open as he finally granted me some relief and slipped his hand into my panties, thumb lightly brushing over my clit. Two of his fingers slipped into me with ease and I gripped onto his bicep as he began to pump them slowly.

“Jesus Christ, sweetheart. Already so wet for me. Don’t worry, angel. I’m gonna take care of you. Got a lot to make up for, yeah? I’m gonna start by making it up to this pretty little pussy.”

I was a complete mess as I writhed under him. I had missed his fingers. I had missed the feeling of his body on top of mine. I had missed the way he whispered sinful things into my ear. I was embarrassingly close to falling apart.

“Eddie..Eddie please..”

“Fuck I missed that sound. God..you sound so fucking pretty. Don’t be shy, angel. Soak my fingers. I need this pussy as wet as possible.”

I moaned his name loudly, rolling my hips upwards against his hand as his fingers continued to fuck me through my orgasm. I grabbed a small fistful of his curls, dragging him down to crash our lips together in a heated kiss.

“Eddie..please. I want you so badly.”

Eddie pressed his forehead against mine gently, staring down into my eyes as he whispered.

“Are you sure, angel?”

“Yes, yes I’m sure. I love you, Eddie.”

The corners of his mouth ticked up into a smile, brushing his nose against mine softly.

“Say it again.”

His smile was contagious, and I found myself mirroring it quickly.

“I love you, Eddie.”

His lips only spit even wider across his face, and my heart ached when I caught sight of his dimples that I loved so much. My heart swelled with so much love and adoration for him I thought it would burst.

“Again.”

I cupped his cheeks into my hands, bringing him down even closer so that I could stare into his beautiful brown eyes.

“I love you, Eddie Munson.”

Eddie kissed me deeply as he pushed my panties down my thighs, making quick work of removing his own boxers before he settled comfortably between my legs. He grabbed a condom from his nightstand, tearing the packet open with his teeth, and quickly rolled it down onto his length. He cupped my cheek in his large hand, panting softly as he gazed at me in wonder.

“I love you, Y/N. So fucking much. This is gonna hurt a little at first. If it’s too much, tell me and we can stop, okay?”

“It’s okay, Eddie. I trust you. I want this.”

Eddie nodded his head slowly, reaching between our bodies to line himself up with my entrance. I took a deep breath, giving Eddie a gentle smile as he looked up at me once again for confirmation. After I nodded my head, he began to push himself inside me slowly. I squeezed my eyes shut and let out a shocked gasp. It burned as Eddie sank himself into me. The further he reached, the more it stung. It felt like I was being stretched apart by him.

Eddie nuzzled his nose against my neck, letting out a strangled groan once he was fully inside of me. I gripped onto his back, breathing deeply through my nose as I tried not to focus on the pain. Eddie was panting softly in my ear, gingerly pressing kisses to my neck.

“Are you alright?”

“I..I’m okay. I just..just need a minute.”

Eddie gently nipped at the skin under my ear, causing me to shudder. He left a hot trail of open mouthed kisses down my neck, sucking softly at the sensitive skin there while whispering praises into my ear. He snuck one of his hands between our bodies and began to gently toy with my clit and I moaned softly at the contact. After a while, the pain started to melt into pleasure from the way Eddie was working me over with his fingers.

“Eddie..m-move..please.”

Eddie started to roll his hips forward into mine slowly, leaning back so that he could focus on my face. It was almost overwhelming. The fullness of him inside me, the way he was looking at me, the sensation of our bodies connecting over and over again. I wanted to cry at how good it felt. I lightly dug my nails into his skin, causing him to groan as he thrusted his hips a little harder. I cried out and let my head fall back on the pillows, wrapping my legs tightly around Eddie’s waist.

“God baby..you feel even better than I fucking imagined. So fucking good. Doing so good for me, sweetheart. Fuck..this pussy was made for me. You were made for me.”

Eddie continued to rub quick circles over my clit as he began to thrust his hips faster. He was still being gentle and holding back which sent my mind into a frenzy. I knew even if I begged him to lose control, he wouldn’t. Not this time at least. I felt excitement bubble in my belly at what our next time would be like.

“Fuck..m’not gonna last baby..feels too fucking good. So fucking tight around me. I want you to come with me, sweetheart. Can you do that for me?”

“Yes, yes, yes..”

I would’ve done fucking anything Eddie asked while he was fucking me like this. He swiped his fingers over my clit furiously and I felt my body tense up. Eddie’s pace began to falter, snapping his hips quickly in an unsteady rhythm the closer he got. That band within me was being stretched dangerously thin and I was seconds away from snapping.

“Eddie..fuck..I..I’m-”

Screams of my pleasure filled the small trailer as Eddie pressed his thumb down against my clit and sent me over the edge. My release triggered his as I clenched around him, and with one final thrust, Eddie was falling apart above me. A symphony of our moans filled the small space and I cursed myself for not being coherent enough to see the blissful look on his face. Eddie collapsed on top of me, and I wrapped my arms tightly around his neck. I didn’t want him to move. I could’ve stayed like this forever.

Once we were both able to calm down and get our breathing under control, Eddie fell onto his back beside me.

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

I burst into a fit of giggles as I turned my head to look at him. His messy bangs were stuck with sweat to his forehead and his cheeks were a deep shade of scarlet. His chest rose and fell quickly, a smirk forming on his lips as he shook his head.

“You’ve ruined me.”

“You ruined me first.”

Eddie opened his eyes to look at me, that beautiful goofy grin plastered on his mouth. I was about to speak when my eyes caught sight of a patch of gauze covering his shoulder. I furrowed my brows and sat up a little, brushing my thumb along it slowly. I had been so wrapped up in pleasure that I hadn’t even noticed it.

“Eddie, what happened to your shoulder?”

Eddie’s gaze followed mine before looking up at me with a sheepish smile.

“A surprise.”

“What..kind of surprise?”

I eyed him suspiciously as he sat up, carefully removing the medical tape and gauze to reveal a new piece of ink. My eyes widened slightly as I looked at it and my mouth dropped open in revelation.

“Is..is that-”

“An angel.”

My eyes snapped up to Eddie’s face. He had a gentle smile on his lips, reaching out to lovingly tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.

“Eddie..that’s..permanent.”

I let out a breathless laugh, still in shock as I stared at his latest addition. Eddie threw his head back in laughter, shaking his head as he leaned back on his arms.

“I know how tattoos work, sweetheart. I have a few, if you hadn’t noticed. I know they’re permanent.”

“But-”

“So is my love for you.”

Eddie shifted to move closer to me, wrapping his arm around my waist while his hand cupped my cheek gently. His thumb brushed slowly over my cheekbone as he smiled.

“I meant what I said earlier. I love you, and I’m the guy for you. I will spend the rest of my life proving that to you. You’ve had my heart from that first day in the tutoring center. You’ve always been the angel on my shoulder, and I’ll always be the devil on yours.”

“You are not the devil, Eddie Munson.”

“Only in the sheets.”

Eddie winked and flashed me a cheeky grin. I gasped as I playfully smacked at his shoulder, immediately giggling afterwards.

“Eddie!”

That beautiful grin stretched impossibly wider over his mouth. I bit down on my bottom lip as I stared at him, unable to stop the smile that took over my lips. He brought my hand up to his mouth, pressing a kiss to each one of his knuckles as he smiled in content.

“Does this mean I get to call you my girl again?”

My girl.

My face hurt from how much I was smiling. I leaned in to softly peck Eddie’s lips and gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

“I’d like that. But..I need to tell you something first.”

Eddie’s face fell into concern as he sat up a little straighter, his brown eyes scanning all over my body.

“What is it, baby?”

“I um..well..we were broken up..and I um..sort of..kissed Dustin.”

“You what?!”

Eddie screeched loudly, his eyes as wide as I had ever seen them. I couldn’t contain my laughter as I took in his reaction, shaking my head quickly.

“Okay, hang on. Let me rephrase. Dustin kissed me, on the cheek! It was that day I saw you in the drama room. He had asked me to help him with a paper, which was a total set up by the way. He told me to meet him in there at two because he knew you would be there.”

Eddie blinked a few times as he stared at me. He let out a deep breath through his nose, clutching onto my hand as annoyance flooded his features.

“Fucking Henderson. Jesus Christ, we break up for what, two weeks? And now I gotta fight Harrington and Henderson for you. Little shit.”

I giggled softly as I cupped Eddie’s cheeks, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips. I gazed into his eyes when we pulled apart, my lips stretched in pure adoration.

“You don’t have to fight anyone for me. I’m all yours, Eddie.”

“I’m gonna kill him.”

“Eddie! He just wanted to help.”

“I don’t see how kissing my girlfriend helps me. Fucker.”

I shook my head as I could hear Eddie grumbling under his breath. I laid back on Eddie’s bed, grinning as he pulled me into his side and kissed my forehead. I let out a soft sigh of content as I looked at him, brushing his unruly curls away from his face. We stared at each other silently for a moment. Eddie grabbed one of my hands softly and intertwined our fingers, placing it on his chest over his heart.

“Whatever life throws at us, from this moment on, we’ll handle it together.”

“Together.”

I whispered softly in agreement. All of my anxiety about the future slowly faded away. I didn’t have a set plan. There were still so many uncertainties. I couldn’t even begin to think how some things would work. But I shoved all thoughts of doubt to the back of my brain as I let Eddie’s promise soothe me to sleep.

Whatever life throws at us, we’ll handle it together.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson smut #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things smut #steve harrington #nancy wheeler #robin buckley #dustin henderson

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chicken-fifi · 2 years

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Super Junior Reaction (Maknae Line) - You Break Up With Them to Spare Them Spare Them from Worrying

Requested by Henry-anon: May I request the SuJu breakup scenario for their maknae line. (Kibum, Zhoumi, and Henry, too please.)

Eunhyuk: Hyukaje would seriously think he did something wrong but couldn't figure out what. He wouldn't reach out at first because he was busy trying to figure what it was that he did. When he does reach out, his calls aren't being accepted and so he results to going to your house. You're no longer living there which concerns him. On the day he planned to visit your workplace, your letter arrives and he's quick to open it and begin reading it. In the letter is a new number which he instantly calls.

"You could've told me. I would've been upset about it sure, but I would've respected you."

Siwon: I can't really imagine anything other than shock coming from Siwon at first. In my mind he would've been preparing to propose and make things as official and serious as can be with you. You were the person he'd decided to spend the rest of his life with. And then this happened. He'd quite literally be a walking bag of flesh and it would take him a few days before he felt brave enough to open your letter. He's writing his own letter to you and sending it off since you mentioned that phone calls weren't cleared due to fear of being tapped into.

"I have so much to say but I want to start off by saying that I understand why you did what you did."

Donghae: A literal mess. Donghae would be trying so hard to keep it together. In public he manages to put up a front, but once he's alone the waterworks start, and no one knows what to do to help him. He'd tried reaching out to you to no avail (and so had others). When the letter arrives, he too takes a while before he opens it, and it only causes him more pain because now he's worried about you. At first, he does try to find a way to get out to you, but that leads nowhere because flights have been banned for anyone who isn't working there, etc. After coming to his wits end, he realizes that you'd written a number on the back of the final page of your letter and calls it.

"(y/n)! You could've told me! I'm in pain here and I know I would've been in pain anyway but at least I would know."

Ryeowook: I can see Ryeowook getting mad at the situation. Not entire at you, but more so over the fact that you were being so secretive about why you broke things off. Communication had been a big thing for you guys and suddenly it wasn't. He'd be confused and angry and as much as he tried to leave it out of his work life it carried over sometimes. Your letter is ignored for a few days because he's afraid of what it could say and quite frankly cause he's angry. Eventually he does read it and contacts you with the number you've provided.

"So just breaking things off was better than talking things through? I don't understand how that was the best possible solution (y/n)."

Kibum: For Kibum it would also come as quite a shock. While the two of you hadn't been dating for long at the time, he'd felt things were great between the two of you and could even see a future with you. More than anything else, he'd be confused because of how abrupt and uncalled for everything was. You also failed to give him a valid/logical reason that wasn't a flat out lie (you were never good at lying to him). He receives your letter with an open mind not really knowing what to expect and quickly writes back to you.

"I understand why you did it, but I still feel as though it would've been easier to just tell the truth and let me worry."

Kyuhyun: Numb, angry, confused, Kyuhyun wasn't sure how to feel or react. The two of you were in a good place in your relationship and had been discussing meeting each other's families/parents and such. So how did it go from that to break up? He had more questions than he had answers/possible answers. And at first it seemed your letter wasn't going to answer any of them give the first few sentences and then it did. He'd take a few days to reach out not wanting the first time you two spoke to become an argument.

"I got your letter and I get it. I would probably do the same if I were in your shoes, but that doesn't make it okay."

Zhoumi: Zhoumi would also be in a state of shock and confusion. He wouldn't be as much of mess as Donghae, but he wouldn't be taking very well either. He'd find himself crying at the thought of you and when alone for too long he'd find himself getting lost in his thoughts as he tried to figure out what had caused the breakup since you didn't give him a reason or cause yourself. It was just a quick we're done, and you were gone. The day your letter arrived he'd debated on whether to open it or just leave it. He'd end up opening it and quickly calling you once he'd read it for a third time.

"I-um, are you safe? I mean like, as safe as you can be. Do you need anything? I won't look for you but at least let me help you in any way I can."

Henry: Henry would also be thinking he'd done something that warranted the sudden breakup. He'd be thinking back to every conversation you two had had in person, via text, phone calls, etc. to try and find an answer, any sort of reason. The second he sees you letter in the mail he's ripping it open trying to see if you were giving him any answers. His mind would calm down a bit before worry set in and he was leaving to go and find things to prepare a package to send you with some care items.

"I didn't know what to send - or if you would even accept them - but I still care for you and I want you to be as safe as can be. Even if those crackers can't exactly protect you."

Expansion: Bombings

#kpop reactions #super junior #super junior masterlist #super junior reactions #super junior maknae line #eunhyuk #siwon #donghae #ryeowook #kibum #kyuhyun #zhoumi #henry

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fireydude · 1 year

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(Screenshots courtesy of a reblog I got from my long time bestie, @itsmalachitenow)

To the creator and writers of the intensely cringey and horrifically unfunny “Velma” series on HBO Max, I have a little something to say.

I’m honestly amazed…

And before you misunderstand, let me clarify something, this isn’t me complimenting you on the level of “comedy gold” you deluded yourself into thinking you struck.

No, you see, what I’m trying to say is quite simple:

The sheer unabashed CONTEMPT you display towards not only long time fans of Scooby Doo like myself, but even your own target audience is something I quite frankly haven’t seen in a long while.

I have to legitimately ask you guys, just how did you lot of so called professionals managed to achieve such a level of unprecedented ARROGANCE as to think you’re better than us lowly animation loving plebs with “zingers” like that?

Do you all just get high off of your own flatulence and hope for the best when you’re writing these so called jokes?

Well, whatever the reason may be, I’ll never know. However, that doesn’t mean I won’t give you all a reward for what you managed to accomplish in earning my contempt for you and your show with just that line alone.

I do hope you enjoy it, because it’s a special gift from every single last adult who happens to enjoy animation:

youtube

#HBO Max #Youtube #Velma #I’m not putting in the name of the franchise this BULLSHIT is supposed to be based on #You know why?#Because it doesn’t deserve to be associated with something that’s actually good

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britesparc · 1 year

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I posted 54 times in 2022

51 posts created (94%)

3 posts reblogged (6%)

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I tagged 51 of my posts in 2022

Only 6% of my posts had no tags

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Longest Tag: 109 characters

#look i could have gone with as in being born but i sort of did that in the intro so what else did you expect

My Top Posts in 2022:

Weekend Top Ten #534

Top Ten Tom Cruise Films

So we return once again to the well of Listing an Actor’s Fillums. I quite like doing this, although I do wonder if it’s just going to show up glaring gaps in my film knowledge because I haven’t seen, say, Born on the Fourth of July. But anyway! Let’s plough on!

Tom Cruise, what a guy, eh? One of these genuinely larger-than-life actors, not just a movie star but a force of nature – the living manifestation of destiny, if you will. He’s legitimately good – Oscar-worthy – but he also has with him an aura of other-worldliness. Frankly, what he does seems not just impossible, but, like, implausible. He could make movies without jumping off things. He really could! It’s true! Adam Sandler manages it. But Cruise still does all these crazy things; he can’t fight like Iko Uwais or Donnie Yen – or even Keanu Reeves – but he still manages to pull off scenes that are just insane to behold. His films are events, and even if he’s making sequels to a beloved franchise, really the franchise is Tom Cruise Films.

So he’s a cool, charismatic leading man, with genuine acting chops, who somehow manages to always one-up himself in terms of a unwavering commitment to physically and mentally taxing stunt work (including, let’s not forget, flying jets for real in Top Gun: Maverick). But at the same time he tends to operate at this level of remove. We can’t fault him for his desire for privacy, but even setting aside specifics, he approaches everything with an almost messianic zeal and rictus grin that is, for some, off-putting. Whatever attributes he has – and to be clear, I like him a lot as an actor – he’s not really in that warm and fuzzy Tom Hanks zone, or even the nice-guy action hero mode of, say, Christ Hemsworth (I’m leaving that typo in because I have decided now that Jesus looks like this). He’s like this Hollywood monolith, immense and fascinating but also, in a funny way, alien and unrelatable. He does impossible things for odd reasons but they also, for the most part, turn out to be really, really great.

And here are my ten favourite films of his.

A Few Good Men (1992): oooh, an Aaron Sorkin film tops the list, big surprise David. But this really is an all-timer. A superb – superb – script, fantastically orchestrated by Rob Reiner at the height of his powers, a cast to die for, and Cruise at his best, channelling his two great attributes – cocky wankerism and earnest, soulful humanism – to weapons-grade effect.

The Mission: Impossible Franchise (1996-2024): gah, already I cheat. Yes, I don’t really see the point in splitting the franchise; there would probably be two or three separate films here otherwise. But Cruise’s performance as Ethan Hunt is probably the most iconic of his career, as he acts suave and cool whilst running up things or diving off them or clinging onto them. The variety of tones and styles and the increasingly bonkers stuntwork helps define a franchise that is going to be nearly thirty years old when Cruise finally bows out of it, and arguably has produced better films than Bond or Bourne. Oh, and for the record – with a re-watch sorely needed – I’d rank them Fallout, 1, Rogue, Ghost, 2, 3.

Rain Man (1988): arguably the hardest and most successful performance of his career, opposite Dustin Hoffman’s attention-sucking turn. Hoffman got all the plaudits back in the day, but Cruise’s slow-burn shift from, basically, entitled shit to empathetic and melancholy carer is beautifully, organically, realistically played out – and, I’d argue, has aged better.

Collateral (2004): Cruise has rarely played proper baddies (I’d love to see him in a Tarantino film), but he’s cool as ice here, with his salt-and-pepper do, coercing Jamie Foxx into driving him round an ice-cold pitch-black LA as he goes from kill to kill. A tense, gorgeous film, but a great performance from Cruise as the slick assassin.

Edge of Tomorrow (2014): cruise has an ease with charm and/or smarm, and often subverts it in interesting ways; such as the opening of this film, when he’s the slippery coward getting by on his flash and pomp. This gives way to earnest, hard-won heroism as the film progresses, but it’s a bold move; as is the trippy time-loop plot. Thoroughly underrated, this is probably the closest a Cruise film comes to “cult classic”.

Minority Report (2002): there’s a cold, aloof slickness to Spielberg’s direction in this one – lots of glass and lens flare and a desaturated palette – as Cruise’s grieving cop goes on the run. Cruise is very good at running, one of cinema’s all-time great runners, and he deploys that skill to fantastic effect here, managing to feel like the endangered everyman resorting to all manner of freaky sci-fi trickery to clear his name. Feels a little undersung, this one, despite its pedigree; those funky stun-guns deserve a lot of praise.

Magnolia (1999): a dense and complex ensemble of mixed emotions and varying degrees of tragedy, Cruise is shocking as the utterly hateful self-help guru preaching misogynistic bollocks to his crowds of arsehole followers. Yes, yes, we all remember his dialogue and all the swears, but it’s how his layers are gradually unpeeled by the plot that really hits home.

Jerry Maguire (1996): another case of Cruise undermining his own cool image, here as an agent in the midst of an existential crisis. He owns this film, carries it entirely, with a performance that is almost all outward bluster and internal angst, frantically struggling to keep above water. He utterly sells it, makes Jerry a compelling and convincing character, and I don’t care how cheesy it is, “you had me at hello” always makes me cry.

Tropic Thunder (2008): another shocking and surprising supporting turn from Cruise, here displaying comic chops we rarely see. His performance as an utterly awful mogul might have dated a bit, post-Weinstein, but it’s so completely out-there it has to be seen to be believed. In a film full of out-there stuff, it fits right in, and serves as an indication that Cruise has more range than he’s often given credit for.

Eyes Wide Shut (1999): a very strange and divisive film, I really love how Cruise’s intense, internalised doctor carries the narrative just by wandering round strange places, meeting strange people, and seeing some very strange things. It’s an entirely reactive performance with no show or bluster, very languid, almost serene; the calm centre in a storm of batshit intensity and soft porn shenanigans.

4 notes - Posted May 28, 2022

Weekend Top Ten #529

Top Ten Channel 4 Programmes

I’ve said this many times, but because I often like to tie these lists to things that are happening in the real world, or at least specific dates, it sometimes means that I shunt things around, or have a good idea but it has to get pushed back a bit to make room. So it was a couple of weeks ago, when The Powers That Be decided that for entirely partisan reasons, Channel 4 would be privatised. Like many others, I don’t think this is a good idea; Channel 4 has been home to some remarkable telly for the last thirty-odd years, and the way its funded and the way it develops programmes is not only special and unique, but it’s also specifically designed to foster and promote home-grown content (from the private sector, no less!). Quite simply, I can’t think of an economic or creative reason to privatise Channel 4, unless you stood to gain personally from its sale, or if you felt its exemplary news coverage would become more cowed and fearful under a corporate hand.

Hmmm.

Anyway, all this news has kind of blown over for a bit, as we focus once again on horrors abroad and righteous fury here at home. But it stuck with me, because I wanted to do something to celebrate, to praise Channel 4. For most of my life – certainly the bits where I think of me as me, which is to say from about the age of ten onwards – Channel 4 has been my favourite channel. It showed edgier stuff, funnier stuff; great home-grown comedies and quiz shows, awesome imported stuff. There was a while there where 6pm on a weeknight was almost guaranteed to give you some good stuff, and the whole “comedy from 9pm” thing on a Friday night was a reason to stay in when I was still too young to go out. They showed great films (hell, they made great films), they had interesting and provocative dramas, and – this is genuinely important – sometimes they were a bit rude.

More than just the quality of their programming, though, they shaped me, helped me foster my own identity. I very quickly gravitated towards Channel 4 and BBC2 as I entered my teens, finding interest and solace in the quirkier and edgier stuff they offered, away from the mainstream. Below you’ll find ten series that I adored, and that were hugely influential, and I’ll try to explain why; but beyond that, Channel 4 was a window to a wider world. I graduated from Roald Dahl to stuff like Michael Crichton and Stephen King almost overnight, I started reading Empire magazine, and I’d watch weird films on Channel 4, strange documentaries, programmes fronted by Jonathan Ross, who’d interview scabrous comedians I’d never heard of. It’s all wrapped up, for me, with discovering Quentin Tarantino and Kevin Smith, with hearing Jarvis Cocker and Nick Cave for the first time. Channel 4 was the gateway drug to adolescence, and I don’t know what that would be for kids nowadays. TikTok, presumably.

So here we go. Ten programmes from a fantastic channel. Oh, and by the way, they’ve got so much good stuff to choose from, that I’ve specifically isolated home-grown hits. Stuff commissioned (as far as I understand it) by Channel 4 themselves. Perhaps later I’ll do one about acquisitions and foreign imports, because the importance of watching US comedies on a Friday night can not be overstated. But that’s why Friends isn’t on the list.

Spaced (1999-2001): I came to this a little late, after it had wrapped up, but it immediately became an all-timer. Not just the way it nailed both late-nineties life (all videogames and X-Files posters), not just its depiction of early adulthood, and not just its hilarious scripts, full of clever wordplay, pop culture references, and great gags. It was the style of it all. There was ambition here exploding every which way, with young creatives who wanted to seize it all. it was unlike anything I’d seen on British TV, and in a way it still is; it’s sort of unsurprising that so many of its architects have gone on to be legitimate Hollywood talents, although it’ll always be weird for me to see Tim From Spaced stood next to Tom Cruise.

Vic Reeves Big Night Out (1990-91): “What’s at the end of the stick, Vic?!” Talk about stuff you’ve never seen before, this was a revelation. The most surreal, hilarious, and just plain daft comedy show imaginable; strange games, odd masks, glorious Teesside accents. I was immediately hooked on this weirdo done up like a fifties lounge singer and his strange compatriots, and I followed Vic and Bob avidly from that moment on. they might have refined the act in The Smell of… but its glorious, ramshackle origins were something to behold.

Garth Marenghi’s Darkplace (2004): another one I didn’t see till later (quite a bit later, as it was introduced to me when I was at CITV) but blimey, what a good ‘un. Like Spaced, it’s astounding how well it was put together, the pitch-perfect spoof of cheesy eighties TV, of horror movies, of pulp horror; but also just the comedy, the silliness, the gags. In a way it was straighter than Spaced but also more arch, more surreal; moments like the bicycle chase are seared in my brain, lines like “I know writers who use subtext, and they’re all cowards” still generate a giggle. And what a cast!

Father Ted (1995-98): not a revolutionary new format like Spaced or Darkplace, but as a traditional old-school sitcom, Father Ted was nigh-on perfect. Four perfectly cast leads, and – in Ted and Dougal – one of the great self-important buffoon/absolute colossal idiot double-acts of all time. With an Irish background, and having spent a lot of time over there, the various gags about parochialism, Irish culture, and Catholicism really hit home. Above all, though, it’s funny; it’s a bit surreal, it’s got a slightly nasty streak, but basically it’s hilarious. And for that I do have to give credit to Graham Linehan; his script, with Arthur Matthews, is genius, and makes his subsequent descent into batshit bigotry all the more upsetting.

Brass Eye (1997-2001): I’ve always loved fake news; or, rather, programmes that purported to be real. Here we have it done expertly, in a way I’d never seen before. The cod-seriousness, the sensational headlines, the stories that were only just too silly… but mostly it was the pranks and the stunts, the roping in of hapless celebrities, the “made up drug” of it all. It was genius, true, and it was done so damn well; but as a teenager, I adored it because I got the joke. I understood what it was doing and why, and that made me feel smart at an age when you like to feel you’ve gotten there under your own steam.

Whose Line is it Anyway? (1988-99): nothing fancy here, just comedy. Out-and-out, laugh-out-loud comedy. Four comedians given a premise, and away they go, improvising outrageous and hilarious flights of fancy. I loved this so much; I immediately became a huge fan of the likes of Mike McShane, Josie Lawrence, and Tony Slattery. More than that, I wanted to be on the show. It’s probably too much to say watching it gave me the acting bug, but the thought of improvising like that, of being that spontaneously funny, stuck with me. They could really bring this one back. I wish they would.

Black Books (2000-04): another delightfully surreal, skewed view of reality, and another one that’s a joy to revisit as we see the burgeoning careers of film and TV superstars. Dylan Moran’s Bernard Black is a wonderfully wicked creation, a mix of apathy, misanthropy, and wine. The supporting cast of Tamsin Grieg and Bill Bailey offer suitably different shades of sunshine and shadow, and the whole thing just falls together wonderfully. It’s bloody funny is what I mean.

The Big Breakfast (1992-2002): yeah, it’s not all sitcoms round ‘ere. I wondered which I liked best: the breakfast show or the evening show? This or TFI Friday? In the end I plumped for this, a revolution in TV formatting, a handheld whirligig of a wakeup call. Very bright, very loud, very fast, this was the perfect antidote to the smartly-dressed-people-sitting-down format that dominated breakfast telly (and still does, really); a kind of half-grown-up version of Live and Kicking, and much closer in tone to radio breakfast shows. And it had Zig and Zag, for god’s sake. What more do you want in a morning?

Eurotrash (1993-2004): ahem. Yeah, it was a bundle of smut, but it was done so entertainingly: German nudists given thick, matter-of-fact Brummie accents; stories about poop and saunas and folklore, or all three at once; Antoine de Caunes and Jean-Paul Gaultier (Gaultier for goodness’ sake!) trading camp bon-mots. It was so good-natured in its celebration of weirdness and muckiness, an eye-opener in more ways than one. It’s a friendly, warm embrace of a show, deliriously camp and resoundingly sex-positive, but also charming and quaint.

The Last Resort with Jonathan Ross (1987-88): if I’m honest, the show I most associate with pre-mainstream Wossy is Mondo Rosso, the fabulous BBC2 late-night series that dug into the weird filmland esoterica that he so adores. But it was here, in Ross’ debut, that I first appreciated (at far too young an age! I watched this when it first went out!) his humour, smarts, and cheek. Honestly, thirty years ago, he really was something new, a British spin on an American-style late-night host. He interviewed interesting people, told great jokes, and really was a modernised and youth-centric old-school presenter; Wogan for the Young Ones generation. I followed his early Channel 4 career before he jumped ship for the Beeb, eventually becoming Mr. Light Entertainment. I still prefer him when he veers into the tall grass to talk about something odd and random that he really loves, rather than when he’s interviewing Adele or whatever.

There you go, Channel 4. You may notice the focus on comedy and light entertainment here; I think that’s because the dramas, whilst I enjoyed them, came and went for me, even the really, really good ones; whereas the comedy just got sort of wedged in my brain, often watched over and over. So sorry about that, especially when you think about the great Russel T. Davies dramas. But anyway: Channel 4 is just great as it is, so let’s not cock it up.

4 notes - Posted April 23, 2022

Weekend Top Ten #557

Top Ten Tarantino Movies

In 1993 I started reading Empire magazine. I’d probably read it a little bit before then; my mum would pick it up occasionally and I’d have flicked through it (sidebar: several years ago I bought issue 1 of Empire off eBay and thought it seemed familiar; I mentioned this to my mum, and she said yes, in all likelihood she’d bought it in 1989 but hadn’t held onto it. I dread to think how warped my psyche would be if I’d been regularly reading it since the age of seven…). Anyway, in 1993 they put out an issue with Jurassic Park on the cover, and that was it; I was hooked. I’ve had every issue since and have subscribed for nearly twenty years now.

One of the things that happened when I started reading a film magazine every month – one that was, at its core, aimed at adults – was that I was exposed to the wider world of the film industry. The magazine, naturally, took for granted that its audience was familiar with certain concepts and characters from the world of film. Given the relatively irreverent nature of Empire, there was always a sense of fun and playfulness as they threw in references to Burt Reynolds, Satyajit Ray, and Richard E. Grant. It made me want to seek out new films and new experiences, and of course this all took place in my early adolescence, when I was increasingly fascinated by all kinds of things out there in the wider world.

One of the very first things I remember was discussion about the banning of Reservoir Dogs, and how best to source a bootleg VHS of the film. This was, most likely, my introduction to the works of Quentin Tarantino, and let me tell you, nothing will make a young boy more interested in a film than telling him that he’s not just allowed to watch it, but that it would be illegal to do so.

The years went on and the story of this nerd who worked in a video store and wrote fascinating and hilarious and violent scripts full of movie references, and who was now a lauded and respected filmmaker, absolutely lit a fire in me. Tarantino, Kevin Smith, Danny Boyle, even Bryan Singer (cough); these were young guys, who looked like I wanted to look and made filthy, funny movies with a cocky swagger to them. I wanted to be them, especially the likes of Quentin and Kevin who wrote their own movies. I had to write about my hero for a school project and I picked Tarantino, despite only having seen – at most – one film at that point, and being far too young for it anyway. He was probably the only filmmaker who ever rivelled Spielberg as being my number-one favourite, my go-to influence.

The years went by and the gaps between his films became longer. A certain outlandish eccentricity drifted into his direction; the scripts became, arguably, a little less quotable, a bit flabbier. After the blistering intensity of the stylised but mostly-grounded opening trilogy, his films became, quite often, wacky exercises in referencing and imagery and flights of fancy. Sometimes this works better than others. Mostly, though, the violence and grit that I loved so much in the nineties seemed excessive, gratuitous, and juvenile by the 2010s. We – the audience – became more attuned to what it took to put that violence on screen, how the actors were treated scene to scene, and exactly what Tarantino’s relationship with Harvey Weinstein was. It soured the experience a little bit, which wouldn’t have been so bad, but there were a couple of films there that, frankly, disappointed. Far from the do-no-wrong wunderkind, he’s as fallible as the rest, and as prone to egotistical grandstanding as many a director before him.

I can’t talk about Tarantino too objectively because – like Spielberg, or like The Transformers, or really like Empire magazine in general – he’s far too tied into my own psyche and development. And he made three films there in a five-year period that are just outstanding achievements, absolute masterpieces, showing a growing maturity and sense of screenwriting craft that – I’d argue – has been scant in the two decades since. He’s still one of my favourite filmmakers, one I’ll always want to see, one who always excites me; but now his films, like, say, Wes Anderson’s – are their own indefatigable thing. I think you’re either into him or you’re not, and whilst I still think he lets his writing run on a bit, and whilst I think his statements about violence – and his use of violence, for that matter – are nowhere near as profound as he thinks they are, especially given his own complicated history of treating female cast members on set, I think it’s fair to say that Quentin Tarantino will be remembered very fondly.

And, look. His films may be goofier and weirder, but that style was always there really, we just fooled ourselves into thinking he’d expand his flavours instead of doubling down. And once you sign up to the fact that all of his films take place in a parallel universe – where Django freed the slaves and Jewish soldiers killed Hitler – it all makes a lot more sense, and we can enjoy them as what they always were: alt-universe sci-fi movies. Sort of a pity he never did make his version of Star Trek, really.

Pulp Fiction (1994): building on the promise of Dogs, this sophomore film is a multi-layered, non-linear affair, juggling multiple characters across disparate yet interconnected storylines over a number of days. The witty intricacies of Tarantino’s dialogue are best displayed, from French fast food to Vietnamese prisons; it’s his most-quotable film. There are tremendous performances, with regular contributor Sam Jackson making his first appearance. But it’s the strength of confidence, of filmmaking rigour, of a cinematic force coming to full fruition, that lingers long after the stunning soundtrack has faded from our ears.

Reservoir Dogs (1992): one hell of a debut. A blistering, bloody affair, with a great ensemble of mostly non-stars and a taught, tight screenplay based mostly around one location. Drew attention – outside of its violence, which to be fair isn’t as strong as was made out; it’s just got a generally nasty atmosphere – because of its great script, of course, but to marshal such a cast in such limited circumstances – to make five guys in one warehouse seem consistently cinematic – showcased his directorial prowess too.

Jackie Brown (1997): an incredibly rare adaptation from Sir Quent, he nevertheless takes Elmore Leonard’s Rum Punch and makes it entirely his own, a Blacksploitation homage that’s neither gratuitous or foolish, centred on a quartet of aging characters despite Tarantino’s youth at the time. A mature, sensible film that’s also tremendous fun, despite an air of threat and melancholy, it promised a variety of tone from Tarantino that arguably never materialised. Was the first of his films to receive, I would say, genuine criticism despite it being absolutely bloody great.

Django Unchained (2012): ever since Tarantino cameoed in Pulp and unleashed a tirade of N-words, he’s had a complex relationship with race, heavily criticised by Spike Lee and defended by Jackson. After the affection shown in Jackie, he delivered this, his exploration of the slave trade and its place in the history of America. And it’s fantastic, very close to the master of his first three films; a dark, tense tour-de-force of brutality as Django goes on a quest for righteous vengeance. Utilising the tropes of classic B-Westerns – and, of course, the vast Django franchise – Tarantino threads the needle between exploitative cheese and intelligent discourse. Can’t believe Will Smith turned it down; biggest mistake he’s ever made.

Once Upon a Time in… Hollywood (2019): Tarantino’s most recent film feels like a love letter to cinema, and especially the era that seems to resonate throughout his work. Weaving in both real-life cinematic icons of the age – from Polanski to Bruce Lee – as well as one of its most notorious violent crimes feels entirely on-brand for Tarantino. What surprises is both the warmth and optimism of the story; whilst the central characters may be loveable idiots for the most part, they’re not the thieves and killers of prior films. Not since Jackie Brown have we celebrated niceness like this. And as a sprawling nostalgic epic, it’s sublime; it beautifully marries its own fictional story within the wider framework of cinematic history. In fact, I’d argue it would be right up there with the First Three if it weren’t for its misjudged, nasty, over-the-top edgelord finale, with some of the most brutal and gratuitous violence in Tarantino’s oeuvre. Tone it down, Quent; you’re not fifteen and we’re not impressed.

Kill Bill: Volume 2 (2004): after the First Three, it felt like a long time before we got a new Tarantino, and he returned with the epic revenge saga of Kill Bill, something of a gearshift from what came before. And whilst most people prefer the first Volume (see below), it’s part 2 that I enjoy more. Less outrageously exuberant, it still boasts a couple of excellent – and grittier – fight scenes, but it’s got a bit more of the Tarantino wit and wordplay about it, especially in the final scenes with Thurman’s Bride and Carradine’s Bill.

Kill Bill: Volume 1 (2003): so, yeah, Kill Bill is a much cartoonier affair than most Tarantinos; in fact, I think it’s canonically supposed to be an in-universe film. But with that comes some of the most outlandish action that ol’ QT has directed; most specifically a vivacious and violent assault as the Bride gets medieval on a roomful of sword-wielding assailants. It’s shallow and weird and maybe is the beginning of Tarantino running away with himself, but it’s damn good fun.

Inglourious Basterds (2009): this is a film of two halves. One half is an incredibly dark, tense affair, with Christoph Waltz’s eloquent but barbaric Nazi matching wits with vengeful cinema operator Mélanie Laurent. It’s serious, intense, full of Tarantinoid dialogue, and shot through with a love of cinema. The other half – about the titular Basterds and their quest – is looser, wackier, not quite as funny as it thinks it is. These two disparate entities collide at the end (and also, tonally at least, merge in the excellent bar scene featuring Michael Fassbender), a finale which is raucous and ridiculous and scary and, well, quite good fun really.

Death Proof (2007): weird and off-kilter, not necessarily in a good way, this feels like Tarantino in search of structure. The plot – serial killer Stuntman Mike offs people in his car – is fine; but we spend too long with not-altogether-interesting characters before they’re brutally murdered, and also too long, frankly, getting to know our trio of heroes. It has its highs – some insane car chases and stuntwork – and great performances, but frankly it’s a lot better when cut down as part of Grindhouse.

The Hateful Eight (2015): some people really go to bat for this, but I think it exemplifies the worst traits of Tarantino. It’s way too long, full of wordy but not very elegant monologues. None of the characters are likeable, but also they’re not really interesting or fun to be around. He fails to make the single location dynamic or tense in the way he did with Dogs. And it’s really nasty, mean-spiritedly so, with a rather unpleasant misogynistic streak. There are smatterings of fun to be had, and it’s got a stellar cast, but for me it’s long, excessive, and a bit boring.

You’ll note I didn’t really consider films he wrote but didn’t direct, like True Romance or Natural Born Killers. This is for three reasons: even excluding portmanteau Four Rooms, he’s made ten films as director, so I could do a full list regardless; it’s debatable how “Tarantino” his writing credits are, especially Killers, which I think was heavily reworked by Oliver Stone; and, well, it’s been ages since I saw them and didn’t feel it fair to judge (my memory of Romance is that it would sit just after Jackie Brown, if that helps). So there you go.

Now, Tarantino has said that he intends to make ten films and then retire, but he’s counting the two parts of Bill as one entity. So that means he’s got one film left in him. It doesn’t look like it’s Star Trek anymore, if that was ever genuinely on the cards; he’s spoken on and off in the past about doing a proper sequel to Kill Bill, but we’ll see where that goes (apparently he wants to get Maya Hawke to play the Bride’s daughter, who’d have seen that one?). Or maybe he’ll do something else entirely; a romcom or a musical or a Marvel movie. Hey, given how much he’s banging on about Peppa Pig recently, maybe he’ll make a kids’ film. That would be a hell of a way to end a career that began with ear-slicing and Madonna’s sex life.

6 notes - Posted November 5, 2022

Weekend Top Ten #520

Top Ten CBeebies Programmes

Ah, the wonders of timing. A couple of weeks ago, everyone was banging on about it being the twentieth anniversary of CBeebies, and I wanted to get in on that action. But, wouldn’t you know it, Valentine’s Day got in the way of relevance, and so we’re doing a birthday celebration a bit belatedly. Never mind. By the time you get to twenty, you should be able to wait a little bit.

I’ve thought about CBeebies a lot, and some version of this list – or one like it – has been percolating for quite a while. This is because I’ve worked in kids’ TV almost my entire adult life, and especially since my kids have been born, I’ve spent a lot of time working actually for the BBC, oftentimes making promos for CBeebies. So both personally – having small children who watch the channel – and professionally – making stuff for the channel – CBeebies has been a big part of my life in the past decade.

What’s given me pause, though, is the fact that I actually know some people who make programmes for CBeebies. I don’t wanna upset anybody! Especially, y’know, anybody who might want to give me a job. So what I’m going to say here is this is not a list of absolute quality; I’m not saying these are the best. But they’re the ones I’ve fallen in love with the most. That might be because I think the writing or production is genuinely sublime; it might be because we came across them at the right time in the right circumstances. Maybe my kids loved them! When your kids love stuff, really love it, you tend to soften on it, even if you weren’t very keen on it to begin with. This is brought to you by “I have totally come around on Minecraft YouTubers”.

Oh, and yes, there are omissions. That’s because, as my kids have gotten older, they’ve started watching, well, more Minecraft YouTubers than CBeebies shows. I’ve got friends with younger kids who go on about Bluey, which I’m sure – from the sounds of it – I would just flat-out love. But I’ve never seen it! My kids are too old, I guess. Or too into Avatar: The Last Airbender or whatever. Or – let’s be honest – they’re just playing Minecraft, or watching people play Minecraft.

So here we go: my Top Ten CBeebies shows; shows that mean a lot, one way or another.

Hey Duggee: is it the music, the artwork, the voiceover? The tone of wry whimsy combined with heartfelt preschool sentiment? Is it the genuine humour and excellent writing? Is it the raft of in-jokes and references, from The Life Aquatic to Apocalypse Now? Is it my minor role in making The Stick Songgo viral? All of this and more; the best children’s TV programme ever made.

In the Night Garden: simultaneously a very sweet and gentle imagery and music that lulls children into another world and, ultimately, to sleep, and also the most bonkers, batshit, balls-tripping stuff you’re likely to see. Nonsense songs! Size-changing vehicles! Dancing flowers! Symmetrical stone-stacking!

CBeebies Bedtime Stories: Jackanoryfor the 21st Century, the simple pleasure of somebody reading a story aloud will always work. The soft, relaxing presentation adds to the “bedtime” aspect, and a huge selection of impressive celebrity readers makes it an event programme for all ages. I mean, come on; everyone from Dolly Parton to Captain America is here.

Topsy and Tim: creating a kind of soap opera for nippers is a phenomenal idea, introducing them to ongoing narratives and stories about familial dynamics. There are all kinds of cool topics explored, from illness to bereavement, with a keen eye on its audience. The cute family and great performances help too. A common fixture round ours.

Show Me Show Me: I’m starting to think nobody is better at introducing the very young to the world of television that Chris Jarvis and Pui Fan Lee. Gentle, engaging, fun, and a perfect start to the day when your kids get you up too early.

Swashbuckle: the perfect kind of gameshow for young kids; really energetic silliness. But what lifts it up is the bevvy of terrific performances, from Gemma Hunt to the trio of pirates, telling incredibly silly and very funny stories amidst the slapstick, chaotic gameplay. Plus I got to go on set, so it gets extra points.

Our Family: there were a trio of programmes, all made – if I remember correctly – by the same North East production company, following the lives of the very young as they experience things anew. Our Family was one, but there was also a cooking programme and one dealing with “My First…” These were great windows into individual lives and shared experiences, and really sweet preschool documentaries.

Waffle the Wonder Dog: taking the Topsy and Tim preschool soap format but making it way sillier, we now have essentially a comedy-drama about a talking dog and his beleaguered family. Hijinks ensue, lessons are learned, and at the centre of it is a flat-out adorable dog.

My Petsaurus: here we have, perhaps, a lesser-known show, but one which was just huge in our house, albeit briefly. A short selection of shorts, it features a girl and her cute pet dinosaur. That’s it; a simple premise, really well executed. I’m a sucker for an interplay of animation and live-action, and this is a great example, with a really good young performance at its centre. Because my kids were into it a bit more, it’s just eased out the broadly similar Woolly and Tig, which is also brilliant.

Go Jetters: there’s a lot of chatter about Octonauts, which I’m not going to diss, but for my money you can’t beat Go Jetters. A preschool Thunderbirds with a globetrotting bent, where it succeeds for me is in the absolute disco swagger of all-knowing boss Ubercorn, and especially in the moustachioed grump Grandmaster Glitch. Two incredible performances from Tommie Earl Jenkins and Marc Silk.

See, I already feel really bad for having to miss out things like Balamory, Dinopaws, and the educational one-two punch of Alphablocks and Numberblocks. Basically, CBeebies is great.

I've made a very rare edit to this list (I hardly ever edit them after they're posted apart from to correct spelling and grammar mistakes!) because, like a massive idiot, I confused the titles Let's Play and Show Me Show Me - so in the very unlikely event that you were confused by me referring to Chris and Pui instead of Rebecca and Sid, that's why. Sorry to all involved! In fact, Let's Play itself was a very close-run thing, a fantastic show that my youngest especially loved.

13 notes - Posted February 19, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Weekend Top Ten #558

Top Ten “Weird Al” Yankovic Songs

In retrospect, I should have done this last week and the Tarantino list this week. But really, what is more Al than just randomly getting something very, very slightly off? Because there’s a fillum out and I want to celebrate. Weird: The Al Yankovic Story stars Harry Potter as “Weird Al” Yankovic in a hard-bitten biopic of drugs and excess that is only available on a streaming service you’ve never heard of that isn’t even accessible in the UK, and is both the true story of Yankovic’s rise to success and also completely made up. And as someone who’s been a huge Al fan for over twenty years, this is incredibly exciting, hilarious, and rather frustrating in equal measure. Anyway: to celebrate, here’s a list.

Yankovic is an incredibly gifted musician and performer, something that I think is often hidden by the fact that he’s most famous as a parodist. But it’s one thing to just change the words of a song to make a joke; it’s another to spend forty years adapting multiple genres and styles of music, as well as expertly recreating famous videos, as well as making parodic references to everything from Star Wars to Santa Claus. The breadth of his talent and musicality, to say nothing of how funny and effective he is as an overall writer and performer, is frankly astonishing; in his career he’s turned is hand to everything, from gangsta rap to piano ballads and all sorts in between, to say nothing of his legendary polka medleys of popular songs.

All this brings us to the list itself, which at the end of the day is just my favourite of his songs. And I tell ya, it was hard! This was one of the hardest ones I’ve done, I think! Like with all kinds of music, really, you veer towards different songs at different times, so how does one compare American Pie to Pretty Fly for a White Guy, the works of Billy Joel to the works of Coolio? So we just come to my basic criteria, which is: how much do I enjoy the song? How funny is it? And, if it is a parody, how well is it doing with the parodying? Because one of the things I love about Al is that, as well as homaging different styles of music or plots of films, he often peppers his songs with lyrics that reference so much stuff. It’s a delight unpacking them from a comedic standpoint. Sometimes it’s not even a reference, sometimes it’s just hilarious wordplay. So that’s all factored into my complex algorithm. And this is the result!

The Saga Begins (1999): whilst I was broadly familiar with his work, this is song that really made me a fan. I remember it being a news story on the Empire website, and trying to watch it on my flaky dial-up at the time – probably the first music video I ever watched online. And I still think it’s just hilarious. I think the funniest thing is that, unlike some other songs, it’s not really parodying Star Wars; it’s actually a fairly straight retelling of the events of The Phantom Menace, just sung to the tune of American Pie. But the lyrics are golden; “My, my, this here Anakin guy/Maybe Vader someday later now he’s just a small fry”. It’s so perfect that it’s not only damn funny, not only a beautiful love letter to Star Wars, but also it just works as a song. I’ve sung it so much I know all the words and it was actually a bedtime lullaby I sang to my kids. And however much I love some of his other songs, I can’t say that about The Night Santa Went Crazy.

Dare to Be Stupid (1985): is it possible that I love this one so much because it was the first Al song I heard? That it is, in fact, featured on the soundtrack to The Transformers: The Movie? Almost certainly yes, but I don’t care. I am not, in truth, very familiar with Devo, so the intricacies of its parody are mostly lost on me; I get that he’s doing a bit on their songs and the video is referencing them too, but for me it’s just a really catchy song full of terrific, hilarious lyrical gags and references. And it’s played when Hot Rod and Wreck-Gar are dancing on the planet of Junk.

Don’t Download This Song (2006): rather than lampooning a specific song, this is a satire on a genre, perfectly parodying the pretensions of those Band Aid-style charity singles by earnest celebrities. As well as skewering the style so succinctly, it also has a tremendous target for the early noughties – the downloading of “free” music from file-sharing sites. Whilst incredibly of its time, it’s full of on-point references, including Lars Ulrich’s famed disdain of downloaded music, as well as mocking celebrity excess. This is all incredibly hilarious for me as, after really getting into Al in 1999, it was finding more of his music via Napster when I was at university that really made me a huge fan of his back catalogue. And don’t worry – I’ve also bought it on CD, too.

Jurassic Park (1993): this song is probably unique in the annals of all parody songs by virtue of it being more sensible and making more sense than the song it’s a parody of. The genius realisation that “Jurassic Park” scans perfectly with “MacArthur Park” is just the start, as it runs through the events of the film in hilarious manner (“I admit it’s kinda eerie/But this proves my chaos theory”). Apparently the stop-motion video was approved by Spielberg himself! Nobody leaves a cake out in the rain, however.

White and Nerdy (2006): talk about your references, this is the motherlode; and, quite frankly, it speaks to me. A veritable spreadsheet full of nerdy ephemera, the hilarity obviously coming from the juxtaposition of edgy rap with, well, Al Yankovic, almost every geeky IP or pastime is namechecked: Star Trek, Wikipedia, D&D, bubble wrap… the exquisiteness of the lyrics and speed at which Al cycles through them means it requires multiple listens to catch all the gags. And it has perhaps my favourite of all his lyrics: “The only question I/Ever thought was hard/Was do I like Kirk/Or do I like Picard”.

Ode to a Superhero (2003): ah, now we’re back to the soft gentle ballads and another recounting of the events of a summer blockbuster. Somehow singing a song about Spider-Man to the tune of Piano Man is perfect; after all, both Peter Parker and Billy Joel are New York legends (one’s from Queens, the other’s from the Bronx). Like The Saga Begins, it’s funny not just because, well, singing about Spider-Man is funny, but also the specificity of the references; like Mary Jane preferring guys “who can kiss upside down in the rain” or Norman Osborn wearing a “dumb” mask but being “scarier without it on”.

It’s All About the Pentiums (1999): another fabulously fast-paced rap about something exquisitely geeky; except this time it’s honing in on millennium-era computing technology. It’s another example of playing spot-the-reference but one thing that I find increasingly delightful in this case is that it’s so fabulously outdated; references to Y2K, newsgroups, “a hundred gigabytes of RAM”, and even the very fact that it’s got “Pentium” in the name. I can’t help but feel that this one’s just gonna get funnier as it gets older.

Pretty Fly for a Rabbi (1999): again we see the comedy emerge from the collision between a fast-paced, hard-edged style of music (in this case, millennial American punk) and frankly ridiculous lyrics. It’s not just the silliness of something as benign as a rabbi being the focus of an edgy rock song; it’s also the incorporation of Yiddish and stereotypically Jewish turns of phrase into the lyrics. Partly responsible for my assumption that Yankovic himself was Jewish!

Amish Paradise (1996): an infamous Weird Al song in that, whereas usually the original songwriters are chuffed to have him parody them, this one actually pissed off Coolio (RIP). But it’s part of the genre of tough songs about silly shit, the gangsta rap ballad of inner-city life and crime transmogrified into the badassery of the Amish, raising barns and milking cows. Perhaps it’s a bit mean to the Amish, in retrospect; but “you know I’m a million times as humble as thou art” is still a cracking lyric.

Bedrock Anthem (1993): I don’t think I’ve really expressed enough just how on point his parodies are; how well he raps, how closely he mirrors the style of the homaged artists, even in videos. But this is exquisite; somehow Al even looks like a Red Hot Chilli Pepper. And it’s just bonkers; I mean, how on earth do you get The Flintstones from Under the Bridge? I’m guessing – and this is just a wild guess based on nowt – that it was doing the “Yabba-dabba-dabba-dabba-do now” to the chorus that spawned the rest of the song, but who really knows? And once again we have lyrics that give me such joy, especially the way he throws in – out of nowhere – references to Bedrock life, such as “got a baby elephant vacuum cleaner”. Joy!

Now whilst I am gutted I didn’t find room for Bob, Yoda, or Santa, I’m also a bit gutted that I never got round to one of his polkas. These are really impressive works, how he manages to translate such a wide variety of songs into a polka style, and then turn it into a big medley, bouncing from track to track and even from genre to genre within the same song. Seriously, the man’s a musical genius. Maybe that’s why only Daniel Radcliffe could play him; he’s used to playing wizards.

32 notes - Posted November 12, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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anthonysstupiddailyblog · 2 years

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Anthony’s Stupid Daily Blog (187): Sun 18th Sep 2022

Watched a trailer for an interview with Alex Jones (The crazy conspiracy Sandy Hook liar cunt guy not the lovely woman who presents The One Show, who must really wish she'd have known there was a fucking nutcase with her name so she could change it. She must have men telling her all the time how annoyed they are when they type her name into Google so they can jerk off to them only for dozens of pictures of a fat screaming American bloke to pop up). The bloke interviewing Jones wants to ask him about the recent trial he lost where he was ordered to pay $41,000,000 to the relatives of the Sandy Hook victims and he does not take it well. He immediately, sarcastically (I hope) proclaims that he is the Devil and he was personally responsible for the deaths at Sandy Hook and then claims responsibility for all the other atrocities that have happened throughout history including 9/11, both World Wars and jokingly (again, I hope) Bigfoot. I talk bollocks on a regular basis but of some of the bollocks I talked cost me $41,000,000 I'd probably think that was an indicator to stop talking bollocks. But these guy has some sort of sadomasochistic urge to humiliate and make himself look like a fuckwit. What he should have done is just fucked off. He's had a good run, he's been pulling this conspiracy bollocks for 30 years now and made a shit tone of money. He's screaming nonsense didn't change the world or over throw the powers that be in the way he wanted too, just call it quits mate. Just retire to an island somewhere and tell your pet volleyball all about how the Loch Ness Monster is real and is a Jewish invention designed to turn us all transgender or whatever shit you've come up with lately.

Continuing on my rabbit hole of human car crashes I for some reason decided to watch a documentary about Noel Fucking Edmonds and frankly I don't know how I managed to avoid slipping into a coma. I do have a bizarre fascination with Noel Edmonds because normally doing the same thing over and over again results in that person being able to do the task better but Noel Edmonds has been presenting for 50 years now and has round about the same abilities that he had back in the early 70's. It's almost like he's willingly tried not to get better because he thinks his banal presenting style is the best way to do the job. I've never understood why someone with such little personality as him specialized in making "whacky" TV shows like House Party and Telly Addicts. I can see why Michael Barrymore or Timmy Mallet would do that kind of shit but not Noel Edmonds. I genuinely tried hard to think of what kind of show Edmonds would be best fit to present but I couldn't think of one. My initial thought was that he should be a sort of current affairs presenter on something like Watchdog or You and Yours on Radio 4 but even the presenters on those shows have infinitely more charisma than fucking Noel Edmonds and he would stick out like a sore thumb. My main takeaway from this documentary (other than the fact that I'm wasting my life) is that I had no idea a guy died doing a stunt on Noel Edmonds TV show. When they started talking about a person who died on Noel Edmonds' show my natural reaction and I'm sure the reaction of anyone who knows Noel Edmonds was that I assumed a member of the audience died of boredom related suicide. But nope it turns out that one of his shows featured a segment where they would challenge ordinary members of the public to undertake dangerous stunts in order to earn some money. This one guy was attempting to do a stunt where he would be raised up in a box by a cherry picker, the box would then explode causing him to do a bungee jump and the bungee fucking snapped and he splatted on the ground 50 feet below! I am shocked that I didn't know about this because it is literally the most interesting thing that has ever happened related to Noel Edmonds (Except of course for that game of Deal or No Deal where the guy opened a box that had no number in it). Holy shit, Michael Barrymore hasn't been allowed near a TV show for over 20 years because someone died accidentally in his pool. Edmonds practically pushed some poor cunt off a cherry picker to his death and has been presenting (admittedly awful) TV shows ever since. I will admit that as baffling as it is to me that he has a career in television given his lack of any talent, this is exactly what contributed to making Deal or No Deal such a hypnotisingly so bad it's good show. I remember during my student days being transfixed to the screen whenever this game was on and it functioned as a sort of meditation for me. In meditation you’re supposed to think of as little as possible and genuinely whenever you're watching DOND your brain is practically dead and once it's over it's like you've done a week long silent retreat in the wilderness. If anyone with any level of charisma was presenting this show then the gameplay would stop you from switching off completely which made Edmonds perfect for this particular gig. So while Edmonds might not have any entertainment value he might be an unintentional source of relaxation and enlightenment.

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miraculouscontent · 2 years

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Anonymous asked:

MLB Reddit be like :

*Marinette manages to score a goal against a completely uninterested Chloe*.

Adrien/Cat Noir stans : OMG Why must Marinette be good at everything she does, it's so annoying.

*Meanwhile Adrien is a famous model, fencing champion, plays piano, speaks Chinese fluently ( something Marinette doesn't, despite being half Chinese ), can dive into a pool perfectly, can score a basketball hoop behind his back, has the best grades in the class ( better even than Max, the guy who literally built an AI ), is the second best gamer in school ( only behind Marinette ), can break dance ( shown in the latest Kuro Neko trailer ) and even knows frickin code Morse for some reason*.

Adrien/Cat Noir stans : *crickets*

( And if you try to confront them about it, they'll just say that Adrien is good at everything only cause his father forces him to be, which frankly doesn't change the fact he's still good at everything and then they'll also lie about Marinette not needing to try to be so good at everything she does, while Adrien needed years of practice to be so skilled. Like c'mon now, such lies would probably leave even Lila Rossi impressed ).

Anonymous asked:

I quit the reddit subreddit because people were pampering Adrien and singing his praises, even for all the bad things he did, defending him while salting over Marinette. I see posts and comments about her being a stalker, a Mary Sue, a terrible character, a bad person. But hey, quitting the subreddit wasn't exactly a big loss. I was only there for the updates, anyway. The fandom is filled with hypocrites, sexists, people who sexualize teenagers, unintelligent people who can't tell the meaning of a bunch of easy to understand words, and a bunch of 16 year olds who think boys with terrible personalities in leather catsuit are cool and hot. So yeah, I think I'll stick to your blog. Feels like you, me, and all the anons viewing here are in a whole different dimension to be honest.

Thank you! Couldn’t agree more, and I also appreciate the casual reminder to stay off of Reddit. The double standards, omg--

#category: salt #salt: fandom #other: ask and answer

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cinnamonest · 3 years

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Albedo idol girl darling thoughts M A N I F E S T E D

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Well, to be entirely honest, he thinks the whole idol thing is a little dumb.

For someone like him, at least. He's a PhD student in his final semester, lots of work to be done and all that. So, you know, he's a responsible, accomplished adult. Not the kind of person who gets into "that stuff," as he calls it in his head.

Nor does he even know how he encountered it... He just takes the occasional break from work to mindlessly open whatever app first pops into his vision and scroll through the feed. He's never watched anything like it in his life, so he's not exactly sure why he gets recommended some idol girl thing, and even less sure why he taps it without really thinking. Probably one of those videos that gets recommended to everyone. Well, can't be that, it doesn't have that many views... Probably loosely connected to some video game he's searched before or something. He's familiar with idols and what they are, and the subculture surrounding them, but he's never really cared about it.

Honestly, it's kinda pathetic that a bunch of grown adult men get so obsessed over these girls, he thinks as he watches. He's seen the type. Lonely, asocial dudes, most definitely virgins whose only female attention in their entire life is their mother, well into adulthood with no real social group to speak of.

...Not that he's much better off, but he hasn't quite sunk down to their level. The only reason he doesn't talk to people much is because they're busy, and he's even busier. He managed to make a few friends in undergrad years. Well, study partners who mooched off his notes since he was one of the top students, but same idea. They were people he spoke to more than once, which is what constitutes a friend, right? And for the record, one time in high school a girl in his class said she liked his hair. He hasn't changed the way he wears it since. Whenever he's sad, he thinks about that compliment from 10+ years ago, and it makes him feel a little better. But now, he's constantly slammed with work and research.

And his acquaintances are also all busy. He sees notifications every now and then from social media he never checks. Everyone is getting married at this stage in life, both friends and even other PhD students in his department. Not that he's ever been invited to a wedding, he just overhears a lot of conversations, sees notifications of posts. And he will too, eventually. He just has to finish up his degree, and then... Meet a girl. Well, that's actually the second step, step one would be finding out how to go about meeting a girl. He's... Never done it before. Probably does not happen sitting in the research lab at 11:30 pm on YouTube. He's talked to one of the other PhD students who's a girl before. And only stutters sometimes. He was even able to look her in the face while he talked to her once. That's a good start.

Ok, so maybe he is a little bit pathetic, but not as bad as... These guys. Reading the comments of the video actually make him feel a little better about himself, because frankly, they're kinda wild. The worship and fawning over girls is one thing, but they even have timestamps referring to various members like "she's super cute here!" Or "you can kinda see her thigh at 3:12!" Etc etc. Yeesh, creepy. And they get into comment fights over who is the best member, as if it even matters. It's fascinating in a human-social-experiment sort of way, the manifestation of a subculture and how humans interact with each other. On and on it goes, hundreds of commenters. He pays more attention to the comments than the actual video, but the song is kinda catchy in that annoying sort of way, and the girls are cute, just kinda... The typical thing he'd expect from idol groups. But the building will close soon, so he taps back to home screen and swipes the app closed.

Unfortunately, the algorithm remembers.

And he's not certain why he clicks the next one either, the following day. The lunch breaks he takes are usually pretty rushed. Not that he has specific class times at his level of academia, but he likes to get his work done. He intentionally eats either a bit later or earlier than the lunch crowd to avoid crowds and interactions. Finds a nice secluded little table tucked away. So when he opens it back up, what do you know, several more videos get recommended. It's absent minded when he taps on one, the kind of numb-brained entertainment every modern person indulges in, videos you wouldn't really be interested in but just watch because they're there.

Ok, this is really creepy. These dudes have made compilation videos of close ups of each specific girl. It's the same group as the video he saw before, same little lewd costumes. Admittedly the girls are kinda cute. He can kinda understand the appeal. But he's not like those guys, he would never become like, obsessed with them.

The song is actually really catchy. The kind of mindlessly addictive, repetitive pop music that's the same four chords over and over, each song is so similar you can't really tell them apart, but it gets stuck in your head anyway. This group has... nine members. Who needs that many singers in one group? It's not like a band or anything, they all just sing and do their little choreography. Guess that's a form of talent, even though he doesn't really get it.

Some of the groups he sees in recommended videos are cute and wholesome, and while this group is cute too, there's a very... Blatantly intentional lewdness to their poses and costumes. A hypersexualized sort of cuteness. Clearly marketed at lonely losers who have nothing better to do with their time than obsess over a girl who will never even know they exist.

He taps another video.

So many compilations, yikes. He has to give the guys credit, they're insanely loyal to the individual member that they decide to fixate on. Oh, and they even make official figurines and posters for these girls, that's... Something.

And a few days later he can kinda recognize the girls. They have color themes, you know, identical costumes except each girl's is a different color. This lead one is red, this main backup is blue, etc etc. Lots of bright colors. Kinda hurts his eyes to be honest.

And he's seen compilations of every girl except... The pink one. The pink one is always kinda off to the side. Well, these groups do have their favoritism, there's apparently one or two lead singers in all of the major idol groups, and the rest are basically backups and dancers. Still, a lot of dudes get super devoted to the non-main girls. So yeah, he's never seen a compilation for the pink one... He can't always exactly remember which one is which but now he's seen enough to know the other girls' names. He's not sure what hers is though. So he googles it and gets the name.

Wonder why she doesn't have as many videos...? Oh, it's because she's the newest member. Only been around a few months. There's... A whole board dedicated to the group, which he's getting this information from. Wow, pathetic. What kind of person spends their free time browsing a forum for an idol group? Well, he's just doing it to find information, not for fun or anything. He was just curious. Now he knows and he can forget about it and never look at anything related to them again... after he types her name and group name into the YouTube search bar and checks the results out, that is.

Oh, so they do have some compilations for her, just not many. "(Name) thigh compilation." Fuck, these people have no limits to how creepy and pathetic they can get, he thinks... as he watches the video. Ok, admittedly there are some good thigh shots there. There's a comment. "At 4:26 you can see her panties." Pathetic. They're not wrong though. Just to be sure, you see, he tapped the timestamp, and you can, in fact, see them. Stripes. Cute.

But he still has to do his work. Can't get too invested in watching mindless videos all day. He's got a thesis to work on.

That makes him curious, though, he thinks as he goes about his research. Do these girls go to school? Do they like, skip college, or do they join some kind of performing arts school or...? So he googles it. He can remember the pink one's name now, so he just finds her Wikipedia page. Oh, so she joined right out of high school and has been in various groups ever since.

Wait, various groups? So she has more groups she's been in? What are those? Before he typed her name into the search along with the group name, but if he just searches her name he gets... A lot more content from earlier years. Huh. Didn't know some of them did group-hopping like that.

Still, no education. Must be all smiles and body and no brains. Guess that's all you really need. Yeah, looking at that whole act they do... All giggly and childish and lewd... She's probably not too bright. At least she's pretty and sings nice. And the thighs are rather good. Smooth looking. They have a sort of jiggle when she jumps up and down on stage. The thigh highs they make those girls wear have that nice little dip where the skin is compressed by the fabric. Like... right there at that closeup. He takes a screenshot.

It's readily available, he's already seen the video and knows the best parts, whereas searching for porn would take time. The sooner he can get the daily stress relief out of the way the sooner he can work on his thesis. So this way is faster. That's why he's jerking off to the thigh video and not taking the time to look for porn. Plus, it makes him cum faster. Which it probably shouldn't since it's just thighs, but... Probably has something to do with the tease of it all maybe. That makes sense.

Or maybe it's that cute little giggle he can hear at some parts. She smiles and jumps and spins and laughs.

...It makes him wonder what she'd look like crying. Scared. Whimpering. Covered in bruises and bite marks. The contrast between that state and the one on the screen. The process and the things he could do to get her from one to the other. Yeah, he realizes, it's that thought, rather than the happy giggling on video or tease aspect, that makes him cum.

He's aware that his... tastes... are a little on the fucked up side, but hey, there's plenty of bastards out there far worse than him.

One day he discovers she has social media platforms. He... Doesn't really have any. He doesn't have Twitter or Instagram or any of that but... He downloads the app and makes an account for each. Just to follow her. Ooh, they even have the option to get a notification every time she posts... That's good. Otherwise he might check too frequently. He sets a special sound effect for notifications for her socials. The first few times, you see, he would get super excited when his phone went off, only to be disappointed when it was just a work email. Thus, he made the separate sounds.

He wouldn't say he has a favorite, that sounds really cringey you know? He just... Likes her more than the others. ...Dammit, that's what a favorite is. Ok, maybe he has a favorite, that's not that bad. He's not obsessed. He hasn't bought any merchandise at all or anything, especially not member-specific merchandise. Which they do have, because he visited the store page for a while and spent all his willpower physically restraining himself from buying something. It's not that he's biased, he just thinks she's objectively better than the rest of the group. Which can be backed up with evidence, anyone with eyes could tell by watching the performances.

As to what specifically draws him to her... he's not certain, to be honest. Maybe it's because she's the least appreciated out of the group, new and all. The less popular one. Or maybe her personality... She seems so sweet, even though he knows it's probably just an act for the fans. Or maybe just those thighs. That's also a valid possibility.

He cracks and buys some of the merchandise. Only about $300 worth. But honestly, he gets more invested into just printing out pictures of you. Pasting them onto the wall above his desktop. It keeps him going when the nights are hard.

But he refrains from ever commenting on anything. Some of these losers are just... so embarrassing, he can't stomach the thought of being associated, even if it's just an anonymous comment online. It's still pretty... Distasteful. He still browses the boards every day. You're his lock screen now. And home screen. And also your solo is his ringtone. He only sets his phone on sound when he's alone at home, though, when he's at work he puts it on vibrate. He... doesn't want anyone hearing that. No offense. He has some appropriate amount of shame, unlike the other bastards.

And the girls probably know that most of their fans are these kind of loser men, right? She'd probably be surprised someone nearly graduating with a chemistry doctorate is sitting around watching these dumb videos. Is that more or less pathetic? He thinks less, hopefully.

In fact, the other fans kind of irritate him. They're really cringy and annoying and it gives him secondhand embarrassment. And something... Deeper. Something about seeing the comments upsets him on a visceral level. It's gross. Sure, he's grateful for the dudes who sit around and make a list of timestamps for upskirt shots and the like, but... It kinda bothers him, feeling like there's some other dude out there sitting around, watching these long videos with his gross eyes and recording the times of shots that get him off. It feels gross. But more like... A violation against you. Sure, your group is very blatantly sexualized and intentionally risque in clothing but... Still, it feels wrong for someone to go through and get to see all of that.

Well, someone else. It's ok for him, since he's not a gross degenerate like the rest of them. He does genuinely see himself as... Above them. You know how like, back in the day, how the nobles used to sit around and watch plays from the far back while the peasants gathered around the stage? It's like that. He's not a gross loser or a NEET or anything like that. He's got a life. Well... Not a social life, but he's doing better than them, at least he has a degree, and soon a higher degree, and a job. He has a lot of things they don't. Basic hygiene. Student loan debt. And uh... Well, he's probably more pleasant to interact with, at least he's not gonna be frothing at the mouth like an animal if he saw you in real life. He would certainly freeze up, but that's preferable, isn't it?

And one day there's a video circulating in the idol community - not that he's a part of it or anything, he just keeps getting the dumb videos and watching them for mindless entertainment - where some girl group had an attempted kidnapping. Not her group, but some other group. The video has gone viral. Some dude tried to rush the stage and pull one of the girls away. Apparently the cops found he had an obsession with her.

What an idiot. If you're gonna kidnap someone, put some effort in, jeez. It's not hard to figure out how to do it right.

If that were him, he wouldn't be that stupid, he'd just look for an interval where she's alone. They have those solo or breakout group songs where some of the girls are backstage, just get her then. Memorize the concert schedule, wear something over your face, chloroform her, and stuff her into something and walk right out. Easy.

....

He catches himself in the thought and realizes that might have been a bit creepy, but he was just thinking in terms of hypotheticals. If he was the kind of crazy to do that, that's what he'd do, that's all.

He's always enjoyed entertaining strategic thoughts, really. He's had a couple fantasies about how he would commit murders of this or that person before, and he's never murdered anyone, so thoughts don't lead to actions. He just... Really doesn't like those people, and the fantasies help him... Deal with it. He just likes to strategize about methods, and how he'd get away with it... Stuff like that. Actually, he's convinced it's a very normal thing, but no one wants to admit it. Everyone has detailed murder fantasies every now and then.

Which is why this is no different. He's just strategizing because it's fun. He has no intentions of doing anything for real. He just plans out the details like a game. And tells himself to just never think about it again.

Until one specific night that he's staring down at his screen. Lying in bed. He should be asleep, he needs to be up early tomorrow but... He's just checking to be sure he's reading this correctly. You're coming to his town? He wouldn't think so, since it's not too big, just your average college town. But still, you'll be right here, right in his general vicinity, not far away at all.

Not that he'd ever actually go to such an event. No way. He hates crowds with a passion. He hates loud environments even more. A concert is like his worst nightmare. Besides, knowing the general audience of your group, it'll be a bunch of sweaty NEET dudes who haven't showered in a month and haven't crawled out of their house in even longer. No thank you.

But.

That's when the thought pops back up. It's been a few months since that night he had that strategizing fantasy, and, well, he tried to forget it but... It kinda lingered in the back of his mind. And now it's back in full force.

He shrugs the idea off. It's crazy. He'd never actually do something like that. It was just a fantasy.

...But he could get away with it if he wanted to.

He's not scared or anything, no, he's confident in his strategizing. He knows he could. Totally. It's foolproof. There's no need to carry it out to know that, besides, what would he even do with you?

Well, he's pretty certain he does know what he would do with you. He's watched that thigh video maybe a hundred times now. And even if he won't admit it, he's jerked off to the exact same fantasy for like, several months.

He doesn't really... Think about it. Just kind of slips into subconscious actions. Autopilot. One click and well, there goes $400 on an amp case. His eyes gaze over the dimensions... And then there's your height on the Wikipedia page... Yeah... That should work. He gets it sent to the address a few doors down just in case, and snatches it from in front of their door, but he finds himself backpedaling. What the hell is he doing? He would never actually go through with this, what a waste of money... But he still opens it. Sets it beside his front door. Tests the wheels to make sure they work.

He knows how to make chloroform. He doesn't need YouTube tutorials (unlike a certain someone else), he knows exactly how to do it, even alternate methods besides the usual acetone and bleach combination - so long as you end up with the same chemical makeup, it's all the same. He just goes with the traditional way though... Doesn't really know why he does it. Just mutters as he stares down at the concoction wondering why he wasted his time... But he pauses before pouring it down the sink, and instead puts it in a container and keeps it on the counter. Your weight is on Wikipedia too. Taking into account your height and weight you would need about... Yeah, a very specific amount to knock you out for about three hours.

The concert day draws closer and closer and he can't sleep very well. His mind keeps running what-ifs. Just, hypothetically, what if he did go through with it? What then? What would he do long term? How would that all work out?

Well, you'd probably hate him for a while, right? But that changes. Stockholm syndrome sets in. He would know, he had to take Psych 101 back in undergrad, and the professor talked about it for a full 10 minutes, so he's basically an expert. It's been like, 7 years since then, but he still kinda remembers it. He remembers that it's supposed to set in at about 2 weeks, and solidify with time. If the captor is nice, that is, which he totally would be. ...Maybe not in bed, but most of the time. He would be nice to you, and you would start to like him. Besides, they said Stockholm syndrome set in faster if the abductor has good qualities, so, he could also reason with you, remind you that you're lucky you got abducted by someone with money - or, well, he will have money once he graduates! - and isn't some ugly gross slob. He's clean and neat. Sorta... He'll clean up all those dishes that have been sitting there a few days now, pick up all those clothes off the floor... Ok, now he's clean and neat. And, uh, what else would girls care about... He's smart. He's pretty sure he can say that with confidence, if nothing else.

Ok, so, it would work. He could... Keep you kinda... Tied up here... If you started complying within that two week period, he could get you up and walking before atrophy set in. You'd probably have to get used to the lifestyle... Right now he's kinda on a budget, but, he can get you things to keep you occupied... And so, yeah, it could work. It's simple, just keep you with him and isolated for a few weeks and uh, you'll transform into some kind of hypersexual obedient cumslut and never want to leave. That's... How Stockholm syndrome works right? Maybe he should have paid more attention in that class... Oh well. He never liked psychology.

So the day draws nearer and nearer and he starts really getting into the right... Headspace. It's a sort of manic state that he's in. Operating without really thinking, all inhibitions removed by simply refusing to think about it. He lets the subconscious take over and do all these little things to prepare, until finally that day is tomorrow. And then he kinda snaps back to full awareness and questions, again, what the hell is he doing? He can't just... Kidnap a person! Normal people don't do that... It's illegal, he'll get caught, it'll ruin his life and....

What life does he really have to ruin?

That's the thought that sort of solidifies the decision. He realizes why he's even on this path in the first place. Sure he's got a lot of academic accomplishments, but his life is... Rather empty. He doesn't really have anyone. Maybe that's why he's slowly become... Consumed by this obsession that yes, he's now willing to admit to himself is indeed an obsession. It's kinda slowly taken over his everyday life without him even noticing it was happening. He's... Kinda miserable. And very lonely. And... If nothing else... This one girl makes him feel kinda happy.

... Which is why he's going to go through with it.

And he slips back into autopilot, ends up standing outside the building. It's every bit as loud and headache-inducing as he knew it would be. Ugh. He can't wait to get out of here. If this doesn't work, well, he'll be forced to turn around. The plan is a very simple one, actually... Act like he's supposed to be there. And he does. Dresses in all black like stage technicians do, dragging his big amp case behind him, holding a bunch of cords from random things he grabbed in his house, and tries not to look nervous, keeps a neutral face and walks straight forward and... He slides right in. The security guards off to the side don't even bat an eye.

And then he has a moment of "well, I didn't expect to get this far." Pauses. So uh... what now? Well, probably should find you first. He memorized the setlist, so he knows when you'll be off... And alone. Right now there should be three of the girls backstage. It's pretty easy to find where you are, but he's paranoid that the amp case is too loud as he's dragging it around. It's necessary, though. And then, finally, he stumbles upon the room... Opens the door, half expecting to be immediately stopped, but... He can just kinda waltz right in here, some open backroom, a person here or there coming through, a lady that looks like a makeup artist doing something over there, and an actual, real tech guy over there... And over to the far back corner... Oh. That's you. He takes a moment to revel in the sight, unable to move or even breathe, and has to mentally prepare himself before moving forward. He's... Not sure exactly what to do at this point... It's kind of perfect, to be honest, there's no one around you, and you're right out of sight, where he could turn the corner and not be seen. But he's not sure how to... Approach? He thinks about it as he walks, but again, autopilot is on in his brain and he's just numbly walking forward. Does he just... Keep walking until he's right at you and just... Or...?

And a miracle happens. You hear someone coming and you turn and smile and ask are you the tech guy here to fix my mic? You point to the little microphone attached to your face. They told you someone would be coming to fix it before your next song. You presume that's him, since he's dressed in all black like all the other stage techs. He hesitates a moment, wide eyed, but then nods. Yeah, that's him, he says. His voice cracks when he says it. It's kinda cute.

You smile at him. It's wide and sweet and genuine and it almost makes him pass out on the spot. He has to swallow for a second before continuing.

But, uh, he can't do it right here he says, because fiddling with it could disrupt the uh, frequencies, cause that really shrill sound you hear sometimes. So, um, come over this way a sec, over in this dark corner of the studio conveniently out of the view of all people and security cameras. You don't know how any of that stuff works, so you trust him, it's his job after all. So you get up and straighten your little skirt out - wow those are even more revealing in person - and walk over it the dark corner where he's waiting and... it's the last thing you remember.

He does a quick look left and right to ensure no one saw you collapse in his arms, but sure enough, this area is empty. You fit into the amp case with ease. Just curl your body up and pop the lid on. Wait, can you... breathe in there? Well, it won't take long to get outside. He just rolls the case right out the door, right past the guards again, and no one stops him, no one suspects a thing. Puts the case in the backseat, opens the lid, does a quick check go make sure you're breathing alright. So he props it open by keeping a book in between the case and lid as he drives home.

Once he does get home, he just does the same thing he did before - close the lid, roll you into the elevator and up the stairs and into his place, looking back over his shoulder over and over. And once he gets you inside he just kinda... falls to his knees. Shivering. Disbelief. Because holy shit he actually did it. He actually went through with it and it worked. He sits there and stares at the case and - oh, fuck, gotta open it again for you to breathe. Actually, he might as well... take you out... when he first shoved you in, he was so high on adrenaline he didn't really process any of it, but now... he almost can't bring himself to take you out. That means he has to, like, touch you. He's gotta take a moment to mentally prepare for that. So he does. Deep breaths. And finally, with trembling hands, pulls you out, carries you on shakey legs over to the bed and sets you down.

You know, you're a lot... Smaller... Than you looked on screen. Sure, he knew your height and weight but... somehow you still seem so much smaller than he expected. That's good. Will make everything a lot easier, since you're easier to restrain. And your thighs. They're... so soft. This is so much better than the video. They're so... fleshy and warm in person. Perfect. And wow, that skirt thing is... scratchy. Actually, up close, that whole outfit thing you wear looks super uncomfortable. It probably is. ...Well, guess he now has a reason to take it off.

The rest of your skin is... also fleshy and soft. Warm. Your face... chest... stomach... everything. Your tits are really cute, too. It occurs to him that all those rabid commenters on all those boards and videos would probably kill to be him right now, pinching and squeezing at your nipples. He's seeing something they will never see. It gives him an ego boost, to be honest, makes him feel proud to get a sort of one-up on them. He gets you naked, but refrains from pulling your legs apart. He probably... wouldn't be able to control himself, and he's aiming for some self-control right now.

So he waits. Breathes deep. Restrains himself with every ounce of willpower he has. It occurs to him he has no fucking clue what he's gonna say to you. Unfortunately, that thought occurs to him as you're starting to twitch and mumble, so, he doesn't have too much time to think. Oh, fuck, you're not restrained... well, he bought some duct tape and handcuffs and blindfolds off of amazon too, so he quickly puts those in place as you're starting to wake up, and then finally, you come to full consciousness -- that telltale jerking at the restraints, the muffled little cry of confusion and fear. It's kinda hot to be honest. Well, fuck, very hot actually. You're so scared. It gives him a rush of power. Said rush goes straight to his dick.

He's got a mixed twist of guilt and arousal at the whole thing, but... he's still trying to have some self control... and if you start begging and pleading and crying, it would be too much. Oh, no, not that it would be too much in terms of guilt, no no, just that he wouldn't be able to stop himself from fucking you if he sees you cry. So he leaves the restraints on for now, so he can't see your face emote.

Then, he does something really, really mean. He knows it's cruel, honestly, it's just... so cute. What that is, is that he does nothing. Says nothing. He goes about his work, typing away, knowing you can hear, but doesn't say a word. He knows you're awake, he just wants to see how long you can sit there scared out of your mind before you finally make another noise to draw his attention. Right now, he thinks, you're probably debating, you're probably questioning whether you should keep quiet and make him think you're still out or make a noise... but eventually you will. He can see you trembling. You're probably thinking so many horrible things right now, wondering what will happen, what he'll do to you... it fills him with a sort of sadistic glee that overrides the guilt it comes along with. Sure, the guilt is there, but fuck, he could almost cum just watching you shiver, and that's more important.

And you finally make a noise. A little whimper. He stops typing, and swears he sees you tense when he does. And when he stands up, walks over to you (making sure to stomp hard and walk slow for extra effect, watching the way you curl in on yourself with each step he takes), and stops right in front of you. Finally, tells you not to scream. He's gonna give you water, ok? You nod. And, surprisingly, you don't make any move to scream or anything, you let him give it to you. You don't move a muscle besides your shaking and sucking the straw and swallowing the water. You must be really scared of him. He knows that's technically not what he should want, but... it feels nice.

He spent that time of silence coming up with what to say to you. He says that for now, you're going to stay right here. Don't ask questions. Don't make any attempt to escape. If you really need something, tap the headboard until he hears. Understand?

You're... Surprisingly receptive. You give a twitchy smile and stammer out an o-okay. He's almost pleased, but quickly realizes what you're doing.

You've been trained for this, you see. This kind of thing is attempted rather frequently in the industry. You received training for this situation - comply, don't fight, prioritize your safety, because in 99% of these cases, the missing idol is found and recovered within 48 hours. So you do what you were told to do -- smile, pretend you're ok with it, don't do anything to anger your captor.

He knows that too. He doesn't do much in that 48 hours, in fact, he even tells you he's waiting to "see what happens." He knows he can't control himself very well, so he stays in his living room for the most part and works on research, it might be pointless if he's in jail a few hours from now, but oh well. Sleeps on his couch. He offers to feed you, but you say you don't feel good. He understands.

See, in his mind, if he gets to fuck you once or twice and then be hauled off to prison and never touch you again, well, that would be actual, literal torture, so much so that never fucking you at all would be more bearable. So that's why he forces himself to wait now. He feels like he can't breathe, he's so nervous, like any moment police are going to come knocking on his door. Every little sound makes him jump. He can't sleep.

But 48 hours pass and... nothing happens.

He breathes a bit easier. Finally dares to go online, which he's been avoiding, and check on your situation... Oh, wow, social media has exploded over your disappearance. But... They have no leads. Nothing. Says she basically vanished out of thin air. Situation is, quote, "looking hopeless." Huh. He did an even better job than he thought he did. There's videos from loved ones begging the captor to let the girl go, offering to give him money even. A lot of money. But, you're more valuable than any monetary measurements could ever conceive. And he's happy. It really worked out. Everything went right, and for once, he has something that really, really makes him happy.

Likewise, the 48 hours are even more torturous for you. You start out telling yourself it'll be fine. Hopeful. But that hope in your chest slowly, gradually dies out as you realize you've hit the 48-hour mark. Even for a normal missing person, you've always heard that if they don't find them within 48 hours... the chances of ever finding them goes down significantly. But, that's because they're usually dead, right? And this guy won't kill you, so, your chances are better, right...?

He comes back after that 48 hours and finally, for the first time since you woke up, crawls onto the bed, touches you, grabs your hips with his hands. Tells you that, well, they haven't found anything yet and it looks like they aren't going to, so you're officially his now, and he's no longer worried. You should accept it. It'll make things easier for both of you if you do. You'll get adjusted in no time, you'll see.

Unsurprisingly, you're a bit less compliant than you were when you had hope. You whimper and and struggle, but it's really weak. So much so it's cute. You ask who he is. No one important, he says. Just... A fan of yours. You can hear clothes shuffling. He doesn't waste time, he's already waited two whole days suffering, so he gets his dick in you pretty quickly. Manages to make you cum. It horrifies you and kinda surprises him too to be honest. You must kinda like pain, huh. Well, that works out well.

As time goes on, what hope you had left dies completely. Weeks pass. You realize they're not coming for you. In an attempt to get you to accept it, he even shows you that you've been replaced. They're rather quick to fix the absence. They have a new girl in your spot by the end of the month. He quickly realizes maybe he shouldn't have told you, from the way your face falls and you get all hysterical. Sorry. It's the way the industry is. Don't worry. She's not even half as cute as you.

He shows you the announcement when they close the investigation, too. This also earns a rather hysterical response, but he thinks it's important you see it, so you can finally come to terms with your fate, the way things were always meant to turn out. He gets a bit frustrated. Just accept it. It's not that hard. The sooner you do, the happier you'll be. It's for your own good that you accept it.

And you do. Try as you might. You begin to make conversation. He's the only source of interaction you have. You learn about him and his life. You become invested in it. You start to cum more easily. When he's sitting on the opposite side of the bed typing away, you find yourself slowly wiggling your way over and pressing yourself against the warmth, and he certainly doesn't mind. You ask him about his research just to hear a voice talk.

And sometimes you sing. It's absent minded, soft and quiet, when you have nothing else to do. He likes that a lot. You get sweeter. Nicer. Fight less. It does take a bit longer than two weeks to set in fully. But it does in the end.

He can't be with you 24/7, as much as he would like to be, so sometimes he has to tell you to just hang on a little while. Be good and sit still for just a bit. He'll be back soon. Just give him an hour. You're just really distracting and, well, his progress report is due tomorrow morning.

And you keep getting upset over the new member, bring it up a lot... It must have really bothered you, huh. Well, don't feel bad about being replaced. To him, nothing could ever replace you... you're still his favorite.

#.al #.idol

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sserpente · 3 years

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A/N: Heyho there my lovelies! I’m finally back! I missed posting so much! This Imagine is based on a TikTok I found and what can I say? It inspired me! After this, next up, will be the 20k Special! Enjoy everyone!

Words: 3205 Warnings: colour-blindness

“What if I never find him?” You murmured, glancing at the fruit bowl with a saddened expression. Yellow bananas, green grapes, red apples. To you, they were all different shades of grey. Dull and boring, like you had been sucked into a 30s black-and-white film. Only you didn’t get a cheesy romance out of it.

You had been born with what doctors today would call a ‘remarkably rare, complicated and fascinating condition’, for you had lost all of your colour vision at the age of twelve. You still remembered what the world had looked like before—bright, rich, intense—then someone flicked a switch overnight and all you could still see was grey, grey, grey and greyer. The colours would only ever come back to you once you found the love of your life—your soulmate.

A sigh escaped your lips. Only a few people still existed with this… defect and to make things worse, you had had no idea you were one of them. Not until your twelfth birthday. Society admired and pitied you all the same and yet, being a hopeless romantic, at the end of the day, you longed to finally fall in love.

Tony chuckled. “Heads up. You’re too young to worry about settling down anyway.” He responded cheerfully and pointed at you with a screwdriver in hand. He had been trying to fix the dishwasher for a solid twenty minutes now and for a man who had built himself a pretty much indestructible suit that could fly, it was utterly amusing he couldn’t figure out why it had stopped working.

You were not an Avenger, mind you. The sole reason you were, as of right now, in the Avengers’ kitchen munching on grey chocolate chips was that your best friend, who in turn was friends with Clint’s wife, had managed to flood your shared flat over the weekend. It was utterly inhabitable now and it would take quite a while for the landlord to get it all dried up again—and since insurance would not cover the cost for staying in a hotel, for the time being, Clint’s wife had suggested you’d stay with them—right until Tony Stark had shown up and you had graciously offered you’d come hang out at the Avengers Tower. Okay, technically you had begged him but either way and needless to say, you had jumped at the opportunity and somehow even hoped that you would learn some dirty superhero secrets—but so far, nothing. Nothing but what superheroes did when they were not out and about saving the world. Truth be told, seeing Thor in Hello Kitty pyjamas and witnessing Natasha Romanoff of all people scream watching an Asian horror film had its perks but you had somehow expected for them to be called in for an urgent mission where they required a skill only you had and then they would rely on your help and you would fight and become an Avenger and… your fanfiction had always sounded too good to be true.

“Are you still there? How is that fruit bowl so interesting?” Snapping yourself out of your thoughts, you blinked.

“Sorry. What were you saying?”

“I was saying that…”

“Tony?” It was Bruce who interrupted you two, peeking his head into the kitchen almost timidly. You waved at him and he nodded, yet he failed to reciprocate your smile. Uh-Oh.

“Did something happen?”

The scientist nodded. “You might wanna put on your suit.”

“What happened?”

Bruce pursed his lips. “We’ve located Loki.”

Your eyes were still widened by the time you rushed after Tony even after he had told you explicitly (three times, to be exact) to stay put and hide until he had been put in custody.

The Loki. God of Mischief, Thor’s brother, Frost Giant, the I-tried-to-take-over-the-planet-guy. It was exciting, somehow, meeting a villain and oh, would it fuel you for your fan fiction. You almost bumped straight into Thor when they all came to a halt all of a sudden, his body a wall of flesh and muscle and making you grunt in pain—you might as well have hit a brick wall. With his hammer in hand, he ensured no one would approach his dangerous brother closely enough for him to try anything funky.

But the fact that Loki was even more handsome in person and the first villain you ever saw in person when he turned around the corner with a proud and arrogant expression on his face despite his shackles, was not what startled you to the core.

All of a sudden, there were colours. Everywhere.

Your lips parted, the impact of all the pigmentation around you making you dizzy. Loki’s armour was black, his cape was green, his eyes were blue, and his hair reminded you of the plumage of a raven. And your surroundings... The compound was silver now, the sceptre they had taken from him golden. Nauseous, you held on to Thor’s muscly arm for support. The God of Thunder frowned in concern. His eyes were blue too, his hair blonde, his cape red… too… many… colours. You suppressed a gag, overwhelmed by the sudden return of your colour vision.

“Are you okay?” Thor asked.

“G-guys… I can see colours.”

Every single head in the room, including Loki’s, turned in your direction so fast you flinched. Tony’s face was the first to fall in response.

“You are joking, right?”

Mutely, you shook your head. Your eyes locked with Loki’s, electricity rippling through you when they did. His blue irises froze you from the inside out, like each and every one of your limbs failed to resist the magnetic pull you felt towards him, and your cells longed for you to throw yourself into his arms—despite the fact he was handcuffed... and for a good reason too. Swallowing thickly, you forced yourself to look away.

Loki was your soulmate. That was impossible; and quite frankly, the god in question appeared to be thinking the exact same thing.

You chewed on your lower lip, anything to distract yourself from your predicament all the while everyone was still staring at you like you had grown two more heads.

“Take him to the cells, I’ll stay with her.” Clint’s hand on your shoulder did little to console you. Part of you still barely resisted the urge to start at Loki like a succubus, the other… the other was terrified and meant to hide in the archer’s embrace.

You could feel Loki’s blue gaze still resting on you when he led you away from the scene, staring daggers into your back and rendering you speechless until you were finally out of sight and Clint shook your shoulder gently.

“Are you sure it’s not one of the security guards that helped bring him in?”

“No… no, I saw them first. Loki was behind them. It’s… I don’t know how to explain it but somehow, Loki was in colour first, you know what I mean? First him and then, a split second later, everything else was colourful too.”

“And now?”

“Now what?”

“Do you still see in colour now?”

“Of course I do.” Clint sighed and buried his face in his hands.

“So what happens if you don’t… act on this soulmate thing?”

“Nothing. Nothing happens.” You said.

“So you don’t have to… stay close to Loki or anything?”

“No. Not that I know of. But Clint—“

“Good. Because he might find a way to use you against us. Stay away from him. Thor’ll take him back to Asgard soon enough. All we need to do first is find the Tesseract.”

Your lips were pursed when he turned to check on them and if Loki was wreaking havoc while they were trying to get him imprisoned.

Stay away from him? Of course… it was the most reasonable thing to do. Loki was dangerous, a criminal… but was that right? Now that you had found your soulmate in him?

You couldn’t get him out of your head that night. Screw the danger, you had to see him. And eventually, your curiosity and that inexplicable and strange pull you felt towards Loki got the better of you. With a deep breath, you threw your covers back and let your bare feet hit the cold floor before quietly tiptoeing out into the dark and empty hallway.

Your blood was rushing in your ears, making you hear things your paranoia and imagination cooked up to the point your heart was pounding in your chest so hard and fast you feared it might jump right out of your ribcage. No one could know, of course. Clint would positively kill you—he, along with Tony, somewhat considered himself responsible for you here. You couldn’t really blame them. If something happened to you, they’d never forgive themselves. You were an innocent civilian, after all.

And now you had been tossed into the greatest fanfiction yet. Shivering, for the cold slowly crept into your bare skin and through the tanktop and shorts you were wearing to sleep, you finally reached the corridor leading to the elevator. The prison cells, a rather new addition to Stark Tower, were located at the very bottom, the cellar, or… what you preferred to call it, a modern dungeon.

You found Loki with his back turned to you in his cell, looking pale through the glass pane. Your heart skipped a beat when he suddenly spoke up.

“I expected you would find a way to come and see me at some point. I’d dare say the Avengers have taken quite the precautions to keep you as far away from me as possible.” He mused. He lifted his chin, approaching the glass window.

It was quite ridiculous to assume that this tiny and meagre prison would keep the Trickster at bay after everything he had proven to be capable of. If only he wanted to, he could shatter that glass with but a flick of his wrist or break the heavy metal door posing as the only barrier between you.

If you were to just… unlock that door to touch him… it would be so easy. Blinking rapidly, you shook your head to chase the thought away.

“Who are you?” He asked and for just a brief moment, you believed to see genuine interest and curiosity sparkling in his stunning blue eyes.

“No one, really. You already know my name, I presume but that’s all there is. I’m not special—I mean, I don’t have superpowers. I’m just a regular human with a rare condition.”

“Oh, I see. Surely you had not hoped for a criminal of all people to be your soulmate then? A murderer? A monster?” His expression hardened.

Yes. But you were not going to tell him that. He was still the person to have made you see colours again, regardless of who he was and what he had done. There must have been a connection between you, you felt it after all! And you were certain that he felt it too.

“Thor will take me back to Asgard and the great King Odin,” he continued, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “will surely have me executed. You will never see me again. So do not worry.”

“I don’t want that.” You finally chirped, barely daring to look him in the eye. His gaze was scrutinising and intimidating… almost as if he was able to see right into your soul with but one single glance.

Loki frowned.

“I bet you’re not happy about this, are you?” A desperate scoff escaped your lips. “I’m not sure I am…” You confessed and sat down on the chair in front of the window. It creaked a little under your weight, the unpleasant sound echoing through the empty hallway.

This man right in front of you was not be trusted and yet, the desire to pour your heart out to him was so strong you felt it like a sea of emotions attempting to drown you.

“You know ever since my twelfth birthday I wondered when I would finally meet my soulmate. Who they would be, what they would be like… and then so many years passed I was beginning to worry I might never see colours again. That I’d be alone and grey for the rest of my life.”

Loki licked his lips and glanced up at you, listening intently to every single word you said.

“Now I met you and they all tell me not to trust you. I mean… I know who you are, I know what you’ve done. I can’t say I’m happy about the fact my soulmate is…” You stopped yourself, breathing in sharply. “What was the universe thinking? You are a god and I’m just… me. We live light-years apart!”

Eventually, after a moment of surprisingly pleasant silence between you, Loki hummed. “The Norns do have interesting ways.” He said, locking his eyes with yours, almost as if he was pondering if… if what? If he could imagine being with you?

“So what should we do? Never speak of it again? Pretend we have never met? I can’t just… come to Asgard with you.” You held your breath when you realised what you were considering here. Loki must have thought the same. He smirked in response—not mockingly but bitterly. “Odin would never allow a mortal on Asgard. If I was to survive my trial, that is.”

“Don’t say that. I don’t care you’re a criminal right now, I just found my soulmate, and I don’t want to lose him again right away, regardless of what happens between us.”

With a start, his face fell. “Nothing will happen between us. That would be unnecessarily cruel, would it not? Your life in the nine realms is but a heartbeat compared to mine.”

“So… this is goodbye?”

Loki hesitated. You noticed by the way his lips slightly parted without a single sound escaping them just yet.

“Yes. This is goodbye.”

The fruit bowl had become your new best friend. In the morning, tired and rather absent, you sat at the kitchen table holding on to a steaming mug of coffee all the while studying the different colours of the fruit before you like a complicated Maths formula.

“Did you have a good chat last night?” Clint barked at you when he entered the room, skipping the ‘Good morning’.

“Huh?”

“With Loki?” He probed, raising his eyebrows in an I-already-know-what-you’ve-done manner.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You said, shaking your head and focusing your gaze on the fruit bowl again. Yellow bananas, green grapes, red apples. In colour.

You flinched when Tony spoke your name. “We saw the footage on our security cameras. You sneaked to his cell last night knowing fully well why you should stay away from him, especially with… with… you know.”

Fuck… the security cameras. You had completely forgotten about those! Of course the legendary Tony Stark would have had security cameras installed all over the damn place!

Busted, you shrugged your shoulders as nonchalantly as you could muster. “I just wanted to talk him. I had to talk to him. I know what you’re all thinking—that he’s evil and brutal and cruel and ruthless… and… and you’re probably right? I… I don’t even know but… he is still my soulmate. I can see colours again because of him for Fuck’s sake! I can’t just… ignore that.”

“I get it. We don’t know what it must feel like. But it’s for the best. We don’t want him to hurt you.”

“I am his soulmate, too. He wouldn’t dare hurt me. You know maybe he’s not the monster you all think he is.”

“Are you saying that because you know him so well after last night or because that is what you want to believe?”

Both. “I just… have a feeling.”

“Right.” Tony clapped his hands. Your name left his lips almost like a plea. “You have to trust us.”

Thor nodded. “Loki is dangerous. You should stay away from him at least until we know he is not still plotting the domination of your planet.”

“What do you mean ‘at least until’? You can stop staying away from him when he’s back on Asgard and out of your reach.” Tony snapped.

“We’re just trying to keep you safe.” Steve intervened. You sighed.

“You know what? I’m getting a headache and I’m still tired, so I’m gonna go back to bed.” That wasn’t even a lie—well, at least the fatigue bit wasn’t. Besides, the blackout curtains in the room Tony let you stay in were heaven-sent.

That was until a loud tumult in the Tower woke you up again, even though you were not sure anymore you had actually fallen asleep once your head hit the soft pillow.

“W—“ Your scream of protest was muffled by a cool palm covering your mouth. You struggled briefly, ripping your eyes wide open in a weak attempt to make out who was assaulting you in the comforting darkness of your room when you suddenly heard a soothing voice shushing you.

“It’s me…”

“L-Loki?” You choked out when he removed his hand again. “Did you… did you break out of your cell?”

“It would seem so. Come.”

“What?”

He tilted his head. “I don’t have much time.”

You stood, throwing the covers back when he already reached for your hand and held it tightly, pulling you with him into the hallway and towards one of the more hidden exists of Stark Tower, a flight of stairs illuminated only by emergency lights.

“W-what are you doing?”

“I am proving to you that I am more than just a criminal.”

“Oh… but… um… where are we going?”

Loki smirked. Your eyes widened when he pulled out the Tesseract seemingly out of nowhere, its blue light glowing brightly in the dark and throwing artistic shadows on his face.

“Hold on tight.”

“Loki…”

The God of Mischief pulled you close, making you gasp. Your chest hit his, his arm wrapping around your waist. With his face only inches from yours, you could feel his warm breath on your lips, and suddenly longed to kiss him.

“You are my soulmate. I am not leaving you behind.”

“What happened to ‘goodbye’?” You chirped.

Loki tilted his head almost threateningly. “You are mine. Don’t you think I wanted to leave this place without looking back?” His expression softened. “But I couldn’t. Because of you.” And you might just be the only woman to ever love me in this way, he added silently.

“B-but… Y-you said Odin will never allow me on Asgard and… and…”

“I never said we were going to Asgard, now was I?”

Your lips parted. Could you trust him? The stranger who had finally made you see colours again? If you told him No, would he let go of you? Would he let you run to Tony and Clint and Nat so they could protect you from him? Swallowing thickly, you met his intense blue gaze and nodded.

Loki smirked and winked. “You are in for an adventure.” And you knew he wasn’t lying. Next thing you knew, you were both hurtled through space and into a shared future.

A/N: ☕

723 notes · View notes

jjacob · 3 years

Text

all i want for christmas is you

❝ the school had started to take notice of you. lee juyeon, however, had always noticed. ❞

PAIRING ▸ lee juyeon x fem!reader (ft. best friend!lee minho)

GENRES ▸ fluff, high school au, sports au, best friends to lovers au

WARNINGS ▸ mild profanity but !! lots of !! fluff !!

SUMMARY ▸ the bet was simple: find a date to the winter ball. the only problem was that juyeon didn’t want just any girl. he wanted you.

PLAYLIST ▸ all i want for christmas is you by mariah carey

WORD COUNT ▸ 5055 words

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ merry christmas! this is a gift for addy @honeyju the biggest juyeon simp ik !! ily addy i am excited/scared/not emotionally ready to read the minho one which ! btw y’all should read here bc our stories are loosely connected! also disclaimer: i know jack shit ab football but i tried

LEE JUYEON TENDED TO REGRET HALF THE THINGS HE SAID SOMETIMES.

In eighth grade, Juyeon’s sense of humor was largely self-deprecating and consisted of saying he wanted to die at the slightest inconvenience. But, with his spectacular timing, he let the joke slip in front of a teacher once and froze up upon seeing her concerned expression. Juyeon later received a note from the counselor’s office and had to convince them that he was perfectly fine.

In tenth grade, Juyeon had grown past his phase of dark humor and moved onto high school football. He made the cut for the team the previous year, and managed to make it on the varsity team by the time he was a sophomore. In the beginning of the season, they asked who wanted to be captain the next year, and Juyeon boldly declared that he did. Thus, he was ridiculed and sentenced to pick up balls and clean up the gym after every practice from then on.

Now, as a high school junior in the varsity football team, Juyeon had screwed himself over by making a stupid bet with his best friend, Lee Minho.

Lee Minho was, in short, a conniving bastard. Juyeon never should have trusted him and gone along with his antics. The mere thought of what he had gotten himself into was enough to send his heart into overdrive.

The bet sounded simple enough: find a date to the Winter Ball.

Of course, it was easier said than done, but Juyeon was a star athlete and had girls sliding in his DMs left and right. He could easily find a date if he wanted to, and, honestly, Juyeon only needed to send a few texts and he would probably be secured for the dance. The problem was, however, that Juyeon only wanted you.

Minho was well aware of Juyeon’s pitiful, unrequited love towards you. It was probably the reason he suggested the bet; his best friend either wanted to see him miserable or see him score a chance with you. Either way, Juyeon wasn’t sure his heart was ready to shoot his shot.

Juyeon had crushed on you ever since you sat next to him in the seventh grade and let him borrow your pencil. It was such a silly start to his admiration for you, but his feelings grew stronger when the both of you actually became friends. You were so bright when you laughed, so sweet when you spoke, and so adorable when you smiled. Juyeon had never felt this way about anyone else and always got butterflies when he saw you. Juyeon was never one to chase after girls but he would find himself constantly thinking about what you were up to and having several internal dilemmas over whether he should ask you to hang out or not.

Five years later and Juyeon still harbored feelings for you. Now, they had matured into something deeper, but you still racked his brain nevertheless. It didn’t help that you had a major glow-up in high school and were probably the most beautiful person Juyeon had ever seen.

The school started to take notice of you.

Juyeon, on the other hand, had always noticed.

“Are you sure we can finish a medium before practice?” Minho asked Juyeon, setting a box of pizza on the table in front of him. “Also, I saw Y/N by the gym earlier.”

Juyeon perked up. “Y/N?”

“Yeah,” Minho replied, grabbing a slice of pepperoni pizza for himself. “You know what day it is, right?”

Minho took a bite out of his pizza, observing Juyeon with a raised brow. His best friend was on the baseball team but treating themselves to pizza had become a monthly ritual. Despite being on different teams, he was closer to Minho than his football teammates.

“Thursday?”

“And that means?”

Right.

Juyeon had formulated an elaborate plan to ask you out during the football game today, but, of course, it all depended on whether their team won or not. It would have been kind of ridiculous to propose after a loss. On the bright side, he knew he could count on the fact that you’d actually be present considering you were a cheerleader.

But what if you already had a date? You surely hadn’t mentioned it to him or posted about it on social media, so he was riding on an assumption that you haven’t been asked. That was bizarre to Juyeon, though, because you were the prettiest person he had ever seen. However, it was true that you were gradually getting popular, and that made Juyeon a touch nervous.

“I ask her out tomorrow,” Juyeon breathed out. “Am I ready for this?”

Minho scoffed lightly. “Are you ever?”

Juyeon frowned at his best friend, scrunching up his nose at his distasteful comment. “What about you? Have you gotten a date?”

“That’s for me to know and you to find out.”

Juyeon sighed. That was probably all he would get out of Lee Minho today. Once Minho set his mind on something, he carried it out diligently until the end. Juyeon honestly had no idea who he wanted to bring since Minho didn’t like talking about girls he was interested in, but he supposed it wasn’t that big of a deal as long as his best friend was happy.

It wasn’t like Juyeon was never going to hear about his friend’s endeavors. After all, he did pick up on Minho’s slow descent from an apathetic individual to a whipped ball of fluff. If Juyeon mentioned that to his best friend, however, he would probably be ridiculed for consistently being whipped for you since the seventh grade.

Juyeon nearly jumped out of his seat at the sound of his ringer going off. He scrambled to pull his phone out of his pocket, ignoring Minho’s teasing smirk at the sight of his frazzled self.

y/n: hey :) i’m gonna drop off some gingerbread cookies my mom made after practice so lmk when i can come over

Juyeon must have saved a country in a past life for this kind of luck.

juyeon: i love your mom’s cookies. you can come over whenever you’d like

y/n: how about we walk home together after practice?

juyeon: sounds good to me

Now, the pizza was starting to make his mouth water, but if you were walking home with him, Juyeon was ready to drop it and run to see you even though he loved pizza. But Juyeon loved you more than he loved pizza, and he believed that was true love.

“She made me cookies,” Juyeon announced.

“She made you cookies,” Minho repeated, leaning forward in surprise.

“Well, her mom did, but yeah.”

Minho turned his attention back to his pizza. “So this is about your mommy kink again.”

“I don’t have a fucking mommy—why would you say that?” Juyeon cried out, kicking his friend’s shin under the table.

“You don’t? Last time I checked, she was making dinner in the kitchen when I came over yesterday.”

“I’m talking about the kink!”

Yet, even a silly back-and-forth with Minho couldn’t get Juyeon down from his high over you. He was still processing the fact that you were going to walk home with him and, if Juyeon played his cards right, maybe he could get a feel of how comfortable you would be if he asked you out during the game tomorrow.

Minho snickered. “You look happy.”

Juyeon couldn’t even mask his lovesick smile and flushed cheeks. He folded his arms on the table in front of him and buried his face in them, his head spinning at the thought of you.

“Shut up, Minho.”

The only problem with you being on the cheerleading team was that you were extremely distracting.

Juyeon was the star quarterback and frankly, it was kind of pathetic that the one thing that kicked him in the ass was seeing you in the knee socks and pom-poms. It didn’t help that you were a flyer so Juyeon’s stomach pitted with anxiety whenever he saw you being thrown up and whenever he heard a scream coming from the direction of the cheerleaders.

Today was different, though. Juyeon could care less about the screams and falls from the corner of the field. All he could think about was you and how he was going to ask you out. If his plan was going to work, it was going to draw a lot of attention and be quite embarrassing if it failed.

All of his confidence got knocked down with a single sweep when he saw someone asked you to the dance.

One of the cheerleaders broke into a fit of giggles at the sight, clasping a hand over her mouth. “Oh my god!”

You were frozen stiff, an awkward smile on your face as the guy walked onto the field with a sign and about a dozen roses. Juyeon could feel his heart sinking to the ground with each step the guy took, with each second his smile grew brighter.

“Is he seriously confessing during practice?” Sohn Youngjae asked, brows furrowed as he rested his arm on Juyeon’s shoulder. “That’s real brave.”

“What’s his deal doing it here? He isn’t even on the team,” Juyeon said, coming off more bitter than he had expected.

Younghoon scoffed. “It’s a bold move. He must be confident that Y/N’s going to say yes.”

Juyeon squared his shoulders. He was conflicted with the swell of anger and deflation of you possibly being taken, but nevertheless, all he could do was watch helplessly as you were being asked out. From where they were on the field, Juyeon couldn’t hear much, but he could see your reactions quite well. The wolf-whistles and cheers were pissing him off, but he was fixed on you.

He turned to look towards Minho, who was practicing on the field adjacent to theirs. His best friend met his gaze immediately like they had some form of exclusive telepathic communication. Minho nodded towards you and raised a brow, as if nudging Juyeon to go interrupt them. That, however, was something he was far too cowardly to bring himself to do.

Your voice resounded clearer than Juyeon had expected.

“I’m really sorry,” you apologized sincerely, ducking your head and keeping your hands entwined behind you. “I’m not interested, but I do appreciate the gesture.”

Juyeon felt a weight lift off of his chest. He wasn’t sure if he should’ve felt relieved that you shot him down or nervous that you rejected an attractive, confident guy who clearly liked you. However, he soon had no time to mull over that when the guy’s reaction was getting more aggressive than crestfallen.

“Y/N, I asked you out in front of all these people,” he said with a distasteful laugh. “Are you seriously rejecting me right now?”

“Sorry, I just don’t want to go with you,” you replied firmly, voice dropping as you became more conscious of your surroundings. “I’m sorry it had to be public but you didn’t really give me a choice.”

For a split second, Juyeon wondered how he could still hear you when you were practically muttering at this point, and then he realized that he started walking to you without even realizing. His feet carried him unknowingly, hand balled at his side and eyes stony and trained on the guy.

“You could’ve just accepted it and told me later that you didn’t want to go with me,” he said with a scoff. “It’s like you enjoy humiliating others publicly.”

Your teammates rushed forward to argue and fend him off while you opened your mouth to protest, but Juyeon was faster, moving in front of you so he was head-to-head with the guy.

“She said she’s not interested,” he said with a threatening undertone, wondering where he managed to muster up the courage to be this assertive.

You were visibly shocked by Juyeon’s actions, and he couldn’t even blame you because he was equally just as surprised as you were. Yet, all he could do was glare daggers down at the other guy with steely eyes and frown until he backed off.

“Thanks,” you said softly once the guy had left.

Juyeon was flustered by all the girls giggling behind you but was amazed by how cool and collected you remained despite that. He turned to you, eyes softening and shoulders relaxing. He knew he was getting an earful about this from his teammates after practice and most definitely from Minho as well.

“No problem,” Juyeon replied, cheeks red. “He was bothering you. I couldn’t just ignore it.”

“That was really sweet of you, Juyeon.” You bit back a smile and suggested, “Meet you at the front gates after practice?”

“See you then.”

Even though Juyeon could’ve spent the rest of practice talking to you, he sprinted back as fast as he could because his cheeks were only getting redder as the cheerleaders gushed about what he did for you. He could hear their gossip and whispering even as he was running back to his team. Juyeon was positive he wouldn’t escape the embarrassment, though, because Lee Jaehyun was smirking at him when he got back.

“You’re blushing, dude.”

Juyeon shoved him.

There was a universal law that was newly decreed. It read: Lee Minho shall never text, call, or speak to Lee Juyeon whenever Y/N was around.

The reason for that being the fact that Juyeon was easily embarrassed and Minho’s texts were not helping his case. He felt it was rude enough to check his phone while he was walking with you, but every time he saw a notification flash, his eyes widened with sheer distress over Minho’s texts.

minho: like three people asked me if you and y/n are fucking bc of what you pulled during practice today

minho: wait are y’all fucking and just not telling me

minho: i knew it was sus that she was coming over to your house

juyeon: fake news!! stop making me feel shy :(

Juyeon decided he had enough Lee Minho for today and turned off his phone.

“That was honestly the coolest thing I’ve ever seen you do,” you gushed to Juyeon as you walked home with him, fingers looped around the straps of your backpack. “Way cooler than you punting footballs.”

“No need to flatter me,” Juyeon replied coolly but his shy smile and red-tipped ears said otherwise. “That guy was being unnecessarily aggressive.”

“His proposal was out of nowhere!” you exclaimed. “I don’t get what he expected me to do.”

Juyeon smiled through the pain. Lord, give me strength, he prayed to whatever divine power was out there.

“Are you not interested in having a date to the dance then?” Juyeon asked, looking down at you curiously.

You paused for a moment and Juyeon thought his heart would stop in anticipation for your answer. Come to think of it, he had never seen you go to a school dance with a date before. You were always with your friend group. It wouldn’t be out of the ordinary to see you stick with them, but Juyeon was hoping he could change that.

“Well,” you started, “if the right person asked me then I wouldn’t be opposed.”

Juyeon couldn’t exactly read your smile but it made him want to faint. The rest of the walk back home was spent talking about school and football, but Juyeon couldn’t get your answer to his question out of his head. He even walked past his house because his head was so full of you, resulting in you needing to stop him and tell him that they had already reached his place.

“Y/N! It’s so good to see you!” Juyeon’s mom chirped with a good-natured smile. “How has your mom been?”

Juyeon’s eyes widened upon the realization that they never stopped by at your place first to get the cookies. He opened his mouth to interject but you went on to answer.

“She’s been great, Mrs. Lee,” you replied, smiling just as big, and pulled out a box of cookies from your bag. “She wanted me to give these to you.”

“That’s so sweet! Give her my thanks,” his mom replied and opened the door wider once she accepted the cookies. “Come in for some tea, will you?”

Juyeon was practically frozen at the doorway while you were taking off your shoes and walking inside. If you had the cookies with you this entire time, then why didn’t you just give them to him to take home himself? Unless you were worried about the courtesy, it was a bit out of your way to take the time to walk home with Juyeon to deliver them.

“Juyeon, what are you doing out there?” his mom asked. “Come inside. It’s cold.”

“Right.”

Having you over at his house wasn’t exactly the sparkly fantasy that Juyeon thought it would be.

He was getting quite jealous of your mom hogging all of your attention. It wasn’t like you and Juyeon drifted apart during high school, so he wasn’t sure why his mom had to pull you away from him and have her own conversation with you. The worst part was that Juyeon couldn’t even join in on the conversation. He had no idea what they were even talking about.

That is, until his mom brought up the dance.

“Do you have a date, Y/N?” Juyeon’s mom asked.

“I don’t,” she replied. “I usually just go with my friends.”

“You’re so pretty, though,” Mrs. Lee tutted. “I’m sure someone must’ve asked you out.”

“Actually, someone asked me today,” you said. There was a moment of silence as you looked over at Juyeon while his gaze bore into yours. For a moment, you were struggling for what to say, mouthing words that weren’t being processed. Juyeon rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly once you regained your composure. “Juyeon actually helped me out.”

Mrs. Lee straightened up. “My son did?” She looked amused as she turned to Juyeon.

“Yeah,” you answered, grinning. “He was really cool.”

Juyeon blushed darkly once their eyes were on him. “W-what? I couldn’t ignore it. I wasn’t even doing that much. I was just helping out. You know, being a decent person,” he rambled and stood up. “Anyways, isn’t it getting late? Mom, Y/N has to go home soon and it’s gonna be pitch black outside if you keep her here.”

“Oh, you’re right.” Mrs. Lee frowned as she peered out the window. “Juyeon, you walk her home then.”

“What?” he sputtered out, looking between you and his mom before he caved, muttering, “I’ll go get my jacket.”

After an exchange of goodbyes, you had stepped out of the house and waited while Juyeon was slipping his shoes on. There was a moment of struggle where he had tied his laces too tight and couldn’t get the shoe on but he managed to slip it on after a few seconds of internal screaming. Juyeon zipped up his jacket the moment he stepped outside, the brisk coldness making his goosebumps rise.

“You really don’t have to walk me back,” you told Juyeon. “It’s cold outside.”

“It’s really late,” Juyeon replied, rubbing his hands together in hopes that the friction would provide some heat. “You shouldn’t be walking home by yourself, and I really don’t mind.”

“Thanks,” you mumbled, ducking your face. “For this, for what you did during practice—everything.”

Juyeon was glad that you weren’t looking at him because his mouth was opening and closing over and over again like a fish. He was also thankful for the fact that he could blame the dust of pink across his cheeks on the cold winter bite. Unfortunately, you lived close by so Juyeon didn’t have time to come up with a cool response and he didn’t want to leave things like this. There was a good vibe going on and he was upset that he couldn’t act upon it; when it came to you, Lee Juyeon was a coward.

“Um, we’re here so…” Juyeon trailed off when he turned to you, sort of thrown off by how beautiful you looked with your windswept hair and flushed cheeks. Dazed, he reached forward and moved a strand of your hair out of your face. “It’s good I walked you home and you’re not like, lost or… something—I’ll shut up now.”

You laughed, and it was an octave higher as if you were rattled from him touching your hair. “Ah, yes, a few streets down can be a harrowing trek.”

Juyeon laughed with you before his eyes settled on you. Your hands were crossed, rubbing your arms that were prickled with goosebumps. A wave of guilt washed through Juyeon and led him to strip his jacket off immediately. He ignored the piercing chill and put his jacket around your shoulders, making sure they covered your bare arms.

“My house is right here,” you argued. “You’re going to be cold.”

“Keep it on. I have something to tell you after the game,” Juyeon said firmly. It was his second burst of courage for you today and he was a little too amped up for his own good. “If you don’t like it then give me back my jacket tomorrow.”

Before you could respond, Juyeon turned on his heel and bolted home, the biggest grin across his face because he was head-over-heels for you.

Juyeon had never been so nervous in his life.

The game was underway, Juyeon’s leg bouncing as he eyeballed the scoreboard. His team was strong in the first two quarters, cutting it close by the third, but now they were neck-to-neck. They had ended with a tie and now they decided to go into overtime for the sake of choosing a winner for the game. It was a sudden death round so whoever scored first would win the game. Juyeon, however, found it difficult to concentrate.

Especially with Lee Minho breathing down his back.

“Are you ready?” his best friend asked.

“Yes—well, no, but I don’t really have a choice.”

“That’s true.”

“I already made the sign and told the team and everything,” Juyeon whined. “I really screwed myself over, Minho.”

Minho pushed at the back of his head. “Dude, I’m talking about the game.”

“Oh, that—that’s fine,” Juyeon stammered. “Fifteen minutes—we just have to win, and then I have to ask out the most amazing person I’ve ever met.”

“You could chicken out,” Minho suggested, “but that also comes with me never letting you live it down.”

“You see, I kind of already implied that I’m going to tell her something important.”

“You did?” Minho’s voice was somewhere between shocked and impressed.

“Shit, I gotta go,” Juyeon muttered, pushing himself off the bench. “Keep the poster safe for me!”

“Good luck, champ!”

Juyeon, sweaty and bangs sticking to his forehead, had to ignore every distraction and think about winning the game before his stomach threw itself into a pool of anxiety over asking you out. He got in a huddle with his team in the remaining fifteen seconds they had before they had to get in formation and lowered the facemask of his helmet. It was up to this one last play to determine whether they would win the game or not.

“Just like we practiced, alright?” Juyeon told them. “Double-wing power pass. We get them to bite thinking it’s a run play and then open up a passing lane.”

“Alright, let’s go,” Jaehyun cheered, and the rest of them put in their mouth guards and lowered their facemasks.

Juyeon took a shaky breath as he got in formation at the line of scrimmage. His heart was racing but he wasn’t sure it was about the game. Nevertheless, he steeled his nerves and held his ground. The whistle blew and the crowd was silent, observing the tension on the field carefully.

“Silver-80! Silver-80! Hut! Hut! Hike!” Juyeon yelled, and the center, Sangyeon, snapped the ball to him.

Juyeon faked a handoff to Jaehyun, the fullback, and spun around, rolling to his right. Changmin sped up in front of Juyeon to defend him. A smile tugged at Juyeon’s lips. Their plan was working just as he intended, but there was a problem: they couldn’t open up a passing lane for the running backs like he thought they would. The play was too rushed, so it wasn’t ever a guarantee.

So Juyeon had to do what he would normally deem crazy.

He spun at the sight of the other team coming to tackle him and skirted around the field, belting down the field. He dodged past another linebacker that tried to body him. His primary motivation was that he didn’t want a concussion before he confessed to you, but he assumed it was okay to admit that to himself as long as he didn’t throw the game.

Juyeon felt a hand grab him but he pushed forward, running across the goal line and into the end zone. He threw the ball down and cried out in joy as he scored a touchdown. The whistle blew and the scoreboard flipped. They won.

He did it.

Juyeon’s team ran to him, cheering at the top of their lungs. He was lifted up on Jaehyun and Younghoon’s shoulders, grinning happily before his heart sunk back down. The cheerleaders ran to the field, cheering and tossing their pom poms up. The crowd was roaring. Juyeon was realizing that he had to do the scariest thing that a heterosexual teenage boy ever had to experience.

“Jaehyun, Jaehyun,” Juyeon tapped his shoulder quickly. “We have no time. I have to do it now.”

“Oh shit.”

Jaehyun and Younghoon dropped Juyeon onto the turf. Juyeon winced at the sudden impact, gathering himself back to his feet and hoping you didn’t witness that. Jaehyun gave him a half-assed apology and pushed him forward to run and get his poster and flowers from Minho. Jaehyun then grabbed Changmin by the shoulders, urging him to go to the announcer’s booth.

Juyeon sprinted over to Minho, waving his hands dramatically. “Give, give, give,” he demanded amongst all the cheering.

Minho didn’t waste any time and pushed the poster and bouquet into Juyeon’s hands. “Break a leg, tiger.”

“Trust me, I nearly did.”

Juyeon jogged back onto the field, cheeks hot and head a little dizzy for what was about to come. He didn’t even tell his mom he was going to ask you out and she had to watch her son ask his best friend out to the dance. This was probably going to be a moment of utter humiliation but once Juyeon saw you in your high ponytail with a bright smile on your face, all that fear faded away and it was just you and him.

More importantly, you were wearing his jacket over your uniform and Juyeon felt like he was going to combust from the cuteness.

“Guys, guys,” Jaehyun called to the team. “Surround Juyeon. Make sure Y/N doesn’t see him.”

Juyeon’s heart was beating a hundred miles per second. He was glad he was running on the adrenaline from winning the game because otherwise, he would be cowering in fear and sweating buckets right now.

“Everyone, listen up!” Changmin spoke over the intercom. “First of all, the football team scored a major dub today—ow! Sunwoo, cut it out—alright, I’ll get to it!” Changmin broke from the mic and started bickering with Sunwoo.

There was a pause, and Juyeon was surprised to hear Minho’s voice fill the speakers, “Anyways, my buddy and our star quarterback, Juyeon, has something to say for a special someone.”

The crowd fell silent, a couple cheers and wolf-whistles as it was pretty obvious that a confession was about to happen.

“This is so fucking fluffy,” Sunwoo mumbled.

“Shut up, Sunwoo,” Juyeon replied, nudging him with his elbow.

The football team moved out of the way so that they weren’t huddled around Juyeon anymore. Juyeon’s breath caught in his throat as he walked forward to the middle of the field, holding up his sign, reading: Will you be my sunshine?

“Y/N,” he called out loudly, “honestly this confession is long overdue, but will you go to Winter Ball with me tonight and be my sunshine?”

The crowd started cheering and whistling again, and Juyeon wanted to die. She hadn’t even given him her answer yet and everyone was acting like she had agreed and they eloped. The cheerleaders pushed Y/N forward and she approached Juyeon, looking like a deer in headlights.

Juyeon took another shaky breath and continued, “I’ve been in love with you for so long so it would be an honor if I could take you to the dance,” he said and his voice dropped to a whisper. “I’m sorry if this is uncomfortable for you.”

You bit your lip but that wasn’t enough to contain the happiness that showed on your face. You zipped up Juyeon’s jacket and threw yourself into his arms. Everyone practically exploded but Juyeon was sure his heartbeat was louder. He wrapped his arms around you and buried his face into your shoulder.

Was this what people called a Christmas miracle?

“Oh shit!” Changmin screamed over the intercom. (“Shut up, they’re having a moment,” Minho’s faint voice was picked up in the background).

“Oh my god, you just made me the happiest man alive,” he mumbled.

You pulled back and reached forward to move his damp bangs off of his forehead. “Took you long enough.”

“Wait, did you—did you like me?” Juyeon choked out.

You laughed and cupped his face in your hands. There was a shaky inhale and exhale of breaths when his lips brushed against yours, and Juyeon closed the distance, kissing you like he was starved of your touch. His hold tightened on you as you melted into him, and then you both pulled away, smiling and dazed and lovesick.

You giggled. “Does that answer your question?”

“Yes,” he breathed out, grinning as he brushed his nose against yours.

Juyeon could care less about all the presents and holiday cheer because he had you and you were all he wanted.

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