R-resist. To play- to play the same games you've already... already played WAY MORE THAN ONCE!

If You’ll Have Me || KSJ

➣pairing: Jin x reader (established relationship)

➣premise: Kim Seokjin. The love of your life. Your boyfriend of three years. The man who insists on taking you to the zoo for every milestone in your lives together. There’s just one thing...you have no idea what you’re celebrating this time.

➣warnings/tags: fluff, SFW, we live for Jin in this household if you haven’t noticed

➣word count: 4.3k

➣commissioned by @delacyrose224 as a part of army for AAPI! thank you so much for requesting this, I loveddddd writing this little story. I’m so soft for this man. you always have the best ideas!!

“We look like idiots.”

“Yeah, well,” Jin shrugs, handing you yet another t-shirt to try on. “That can’t be helped.”

You gasp, snatching the shirt away from him and heading toward the fitting room. “Rude! I meant with all of these ridiculous clothes!”

Jin’s laughter follows you as you close the door and throw on what feels like the thirtieth gaudy t-shirt from the zoo’s souvenir shop. This one is vivid blue, which you suppose is an upgrade from the caution-cone orange Jin had you trying on a few minutes ago.

“Ok,” you call out, “ready?”

“Ready!”

Peeking out of the little room, you notice Jin sitting on the little sofa in the waiting area. He grins up at you, already wearing a matching shirt.

“Do you like it?” He asks, lips pouting out a bit as he waits for your answer.

Avoiding looking in the mirror for too long, you manage a feeble, “Yeah…it’s not as bad as the others, I guess.”

That’s all Jin needs to hear. With a clap of his hands he’s jumping up and herding you toward the front of the shop. You don’t miss the amused glances people are giving you and your boyfriend, who pauses to grab a couple of baseball caps.

“Let’s see…” he brushes some of your hair back before sliding the cap onto your head, stepping back to get the full effect. “Perfect. And, it’ll protect your scalp from the sun!”

Like a couple of walking mannequins, the two of you head up to pay for the clothes you’re now wearing. Jin has a backpack on hand for your other clothes, which you unceremoniously shove inside before zipping it shut.

The cashier offers you a wide smile as she assists with the transaction. You know what she’s thinking:do I pity or envy her?

Honestly, it’s a toss up. Of course, there’s the fact that Jin often makes you do ridiculous things (exhibit A, bright blue zoo t-shirts with roaring lions on the front and waddling penguins on the back), but then again, you don’t stop him.

Rather, you egg him on. There’s something just so adorable about the way he gets so excited for such simple things. And for today, it’s over a trip to the zoo.

Of course, you’re excited as well. Mainly to see the meerkats, which Jin will never let you live down. When you told him that the meerkats were your favorite animal, he stopped and stared at you for an unnervingly long amount of time. You had begun to wonder if you’d somehow upset him when he burst out laughing, claiming that he could see it.

“See what?” You seethed.

“The resemblance,” Jin choked out between laughter. “You’re basically a meerkat in human form!”

With a smack to his chest, you glared at him and said, “Yeah well…you’re a walrus! Yeah, a walrus!”

Needless to say, he was extremely offended and didn’t speak to you for hours. In fact, the only thing that had brought him out of his misery had been you dragging him to the souvenir shop and giving him permission to get whatever he wanted. That apparently included getting you some items as well.

“Ah, it’s such a nice day,” Jin remarks the second you step outside. His hand slips into your seamlessly, a testament to the countless times you’ve repeated the action. “Perfect day at the zoo.”

Indeed it is. The sun is shining, there’s a cool breeze licking at the nape of your neck, and there’s fewer people than you’d expected to be here on a day like today.

Maybe it has something to do with the fact that it’s Tuesday morning. It would appear that most people – the sane ones, at least – are busy with work and other weekday obligations. Neither of you are, though. Jin has a rare day off and he’d had the day circled on the calendar for well over a month at this point. You had made sure a long time ago to have this day off.

“When’s the last time you went to the zoo?” You ask, glancing sidelong at your boyfriend.

Perhaps it’s his undeniable good looks or the fact that you hardly get to see each other due to your hectic schedules, but you can’t help the little sense of wonder that comes over you as your survey him in the morning sun. Somehow, you really have no idea how he does it, he manages to pull off the shirt and hat. Sure, he looks silly. But he owns the look.

It’s a wonder that he’s yours.

“Hmmm…” Jin ponders for a moment. “I think it was the last time we went together.”

You gasp. “That was like…three years ago! You seriously haven’t been since?”

Laughing at your shocked expression, Jin shakes his head. “Nope.”

Three years ago, close to the time when the two of you had first started dating, Jin wanted to take you out on a special date to celebrate the beginning of your relationship. Without telling you where you were going, you had assumed there would be a nice restaurant, maybe some sort of play or whatever else it is that fancy people do when they first begin to date.

Oh, how wrong you’d been.

Assuming that just because Jin was…well, rich, you couldn’t be more wrong about his taste in dates. When he had parked in the zoo lot and led you through the entrance, you had been waiting for the punchline.

There wasn’t any. No, he had simply wanted to spend the entire day with you. Walking around, having an “excuse to hold your hand” in Jin’s words, and somehow making you believe that crocodiles’ tails could change color when it danger. (don’t ask)

“I still think that it would be so cool to live up there,” you point to the houses in the distance, overlooking the zoo. There was a neighborhood of stately homes just a little way’s away which the two of you had snooped on after your date to the zoo all those years ago.

Jin chuckles quietly. “What if a tiger escapes and ends up in the yard?”

You shrug. “I guess it makes for a good excuse to always keep a steak in the fridge. I’ll lure it away with that.”

“Absolute genius,” your boyfriend hums, making you scrunch up your nose at his obvious sarcasm. “So, where should we begin?”

“At the beginning?”

Laughing jovially (honestly, the best thing about Jin is the fact that he thinks you’re funny), the two of you set down a little path which will take you to a butterfly exhibit.

“Agh, I forgot how hot it is in here,” you mutter the second you step inside. Plants of all different shapes and sizes loom over and around you, home to several different kinds of butterflies. A few stray butterflies flutter overhead, making you temporarily forget the humidity of the greenhouse.

Jin ooh’s and ah’s over the bright yellow butterfly that brushes past him. “Did you see that? It nearly landed on my nose!”

“Aw, it recognizes a Disney Princess when it sees one,” you coo, earning a half-hearted glare from Jin.

“I thought we discussed this,” he grumbles. “I’m Flynn Rider.”

“Right. My bad. Who am I again?”

A giant grin splitting his features, Jin wiggles his eyebrows at you. “Mother Gothel, obviously.” The slap to his right butt-cheek echoes through the greenhouse, quickly followed by his yowl of pain.

Pretending to wipe tears from his eyes, Jin limps after you as you continue through the greenhouse.

“You’re lucky nobody was in here to see that,” he says. “They could send you away for treating me so horribly. I mean, look! I bring you to the zoo, I buy you a nice shirt, I let you choose where we go first-”

Whirling around to face your boyfriend only to find a knowing smirk already on his face, you glare up at him. He knows that he won.

“Yah! What do you want?” You ask, exasperated. Limping forward, clearly milking this for all it’s worth, Jin pouts down at you with big, brown eyes.

“Just one kiss.”

You gasp, feigning horror. “A kiss?! In this sweaty, public greenhouse?!” You frantically point at the butterflies which are your only witnesses in here. “In front of the innocent butterflies?”

Jin looks at you and shudders. “Wow. I think it’s official.”

“What?”

“We spend way too much time together. You’re impersonating me right now, aren’t you?”

“Was it that obvious?”

“Yeah. But I still stand by my condition.” Finally taking one final step, Jin towers over you. With a playful wink, he puckers his lips.

“Ugh, I hate you sometimes.”

Jin peeks one eye open. “You just said you loved me earlier.”

“Is it too late to change my mind?”

“Sorry, no refunds.” Then, taking things into his own hands, Jin cups your cheeks and swoops in for a kiss.

On your nose.

Sputtering as he steps away, you glare at him. “What was that?!”

Turning on his heel and heading toward the exit, you notice that Jin’s over-exaggerated limp is long gone. With a devilish grin over his shoulder, Jin says, “You were taking too long. But you still owe me a kiss, whenever I ask for it. No matter where we are or what we’re doing, ok?”

You can recognize a trap when you see one. However, you’re left with no choice. Grumbling out a “yeah, whatever” you follow after him.

After the butterfly exhibit you make your way to the reptile house, opting to get all of the hot and humid indoor places out of the way while it’s still morning. The Gila monsters make you laugh as Jin takes a video of the tongue flipping in and out of its mouth and sends it to Hoseok. The two of you know full well that the boy in question will no doubt scream in horror as he watches the video.

Hand in hand, Jin finally swerves off the path toward one of the final indoor exhibits: Animals of the Savanna.

Once you’re inside, you pull and tug at Jin until he’s relenting and allowing you to find the meerkats. To onlookers, you’re sure you look like a child dragging their disgruntled parent to and fro. However, once you spot the meerkats, any thoughts of maintaining your dignity in front of these people eddies out of your mind.

“Jin! Jin! Seokjin!” You hop up and down on the balls of your feet, completely missing the tender look Jin sends your way as you drag him closer. “Look at them! Woooow there’s so many! Aww and there’s little babies, too!”

Jin just hums along, smiling as he watches your wide eyes. You get as close as humanly possible, grinning at the creatures that occasionally look your way. Through it all, he maintains some sort of contact. Giggling without knowing what you’re laughing about. Just laughing for the sake of it.

He just…loves the zoo. Yeah, that’s it.

It had been a silly idea, to bring you here three years ago to celebrate the beginning of your relationship. In fact, you had looked at him like he was already bordering on crazy when he had brought up the idea of doing something special now that you had agreed to be his girlfriend.

“Don’t people usually do something special for anniversaries?” You had asked. Your hair had been longer then, a tell-tale sign of your youth.

Jin shrugged, completely under your spell without your knowledge. He found it nearly impossible to look away from you at times like these. “We can do that, too. Next year. But for now, why don’t we just celebrate the beginning?”

“Sure,” you mimicked his shrug, snuggling into his side on the couch. Despite his unaffected demeanor, he wondered if you noticed the way his heart was pounding as you rested your head against his shoulder. “I’ll do whatever, as long as it’s with you.”

So, after discussing it with his best friends, he decided to take you to a beautiful dinner looking over the Han river. There was a new restaurant that was outrageously fancy and delicious, and he wanted to treat you to the best.

When he arrived at your apartment that evening, just in time to hopefully catch the sunset on the Han if all went according to plan, he overheard you talking on the phone. Your window was open, and like the snoop that he was, he waited to listen in on your conversation.

He wouldn’t have it he hadn’t heard your mentioning his name.

“I don’t know what we’re doing tonight,” you admitted. You were quiet for a moment while listening to the other side of the conversation. “You think so? I don’t know, I’ve never dated someone like this. You know, like…rich. What do rich people do on dates? I’m a little out of my element here, I just hope I won’t make a fool of myself.” Your laugh had him hurtling to reality, and he realized in an instant that he couldn’t take you to that restaurant.

A part of him knew in that moment that you were going to be the rest of his life. You were it for him. And if you want something to last, you treat it differently.

A perfectly forgettable meal surrounded by gossiping netizens wasn’t what you deserved.

So what did you deserve?

That had been the question on his mind as he tried to hide just how sweaty his palms were when he knocked on your door.

“Oh, I think he’s here. I – yeah, I’ll call you after. Ok, bye.”

Seokjin has always been good at pretending that he has a plan even when he has no idea what to do. Which is exactly what he did. You had been absolutely adorable, bouncing in your seat as he set off down the highway, begging him to give you a hint.

When he’d seen the exit for the zoo, he turned down that road without a second thought. You looked utterly confused when he pulled into the parking lot, and little did you know that he was just as confused as you were.

He just prayed that you wouldn’t think he was the dumbest person ever for letting those reservations slip through his fingers for the fanciest restaurant in Seoul. Perhaps a date to the zoo wasn’t the right idea, perhaps it wasn’t romantic at all, perhaps-

Perhaps you were happiest with his hand in yours and a meerkat a few feet away from you.

He’s so tempted to cash in that kiss right now, with how adorable you look. But he bites his tongue, reminding himself that he has to save it for later.

Once you’re loved of meerkats is sated enough for you to be herded away, Jin leads you to a street vendor. “Eat up,” he says as he passes the bread cone filled to the brim with macaroni and cheese to your outstretched hands. He’ll never understand your love for the little abominations, but he caves and orders one for himself as well.

“Don’t you want to sit and eat it?” He asks as he spies you wandering off. You twirl around, licking the cheese off of your lips. And stupid as it is, his heart skips a beat.

“They’re gonna feed the penguins in ten minutes!” You respond, clearly expecting that to be enough of an explanation. Again you turn to wander away. You’re not worried about leaving Jin behind, though. His long legs catch up to you within a few seconds.

The two of you eat in relative silence as you watch the penguins waddling around. Once you’re finished with your food, you spend a good hour sitting in the amphitheater watching the penguins and wondering which ones the two of you would be.

“I’m that one,” you point to a particularly fat penguin attempting to get out of the water. “That looks like me trying to get out of my chair whenever I eat.”

Jin nearly chokes on his water at your remark, squinting at the penguin that has yet to be successful in getting out of the water. “How pitiful. Oh, that’s me.”

Another penguin appears on the ice, looking down at the fat one.

“Oh, have you come to rescue me?” You ask, sitting forward and resting your chin on your hands. Jin immediately begins massaging the small of your back, knowing that it’s a troublesome spot for you most days.

“Probably- oooh down he goes!”

The two of you burst into a fit of laughter as the penguin pears down into the water only to lose its footing and slip in alongside the previously struggling penguin.

“Yeah, that’s us,” you confirm, still laughing.

“Definitely us. We’re a mess most days.”

You lean back, taking up your usual spot on the crook of his shoulder and resting your hand on the inside of Jin’s knee. “At least we have each other.”

You say it with a teasing tone, but Jin can’t help the way it goes straight to his heart. Sneakily planting a kiss atop your baseball cap, he squeezes you a little tighter. “Yeah, that’s true. Don’t know where I’d be without you.”

“Probably still on land,” you remark slyly, peeking up at him. With slightly pink cheeks and zero hesitation you utter out, “I love you.”

He’ll never get used to you.

“Love you, too.”

From there you head over to the polar bears, which appear to be largely unimpressed by your presence. Jin drags you to see the hyenas, sporting some strange interest in the creatures. It only makes sense to sit and stare at the large tigers after that, your mouth ajar as you marvel at its size.

Then it’s the elephants and rhinos.

“Ugh, it smells like your fridge that one time,” you joke the second to get a whiff of the rhino’s habitat.

“It does not!” Jin shouts, drawing the attention of some of the other visitors. “My fridge smelled much worse.”

You can’t help but cackle at his remark. “I stand corrected.”

Toward the end of your visit you pass by to visit the monkeys. “If you squeeze my hand any harder, it’ll fall off.”

You try and fail to relinquish your grip. “Sorry, they just freak me out.” As if on cue, a monkey swings by in front of the tall glass window, making you jump and squeal in terror.

“Should we leave?” Jin questions, hiding his laughter.

You bury your head in between his shoulder blades, squeezing your eyes shut. “No, just go fast.”

He does just that, speeding through the exhibit until he’s announcing that you’re nearing the end. Slowly you look up, blinking at the now dark sky.

“Have we been here all day?” You ask in wonder. Checking the time, Jin nods.

“Yep. It’s about time to head home.”

Languidly making your way back up the path to the zoo entrance and exit, you swing your hands back and forth. “That was so fun.”

Jin raises his brows. “Really? I thought you were a goner back there with the monkeys.”

Faking a shiver, you revel in the way Jin falls for it and automatically pulls you in closer. “I thought I was, too. But I just thought of the meerkats, and I made it through.”

Snorting, Jin waves goodbye to a few of the staff members the open the gate for the two of you to leave. “Is that so? It had nothing to do with your big, strong, boyfriend protecting you?”

“I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“Oh really.”

“No. Why? Did you think we had something going on?”

Rolling his eyes, Jin bumps you with his hip, making you giggle. “If not, this has been the most dedicated friendship I’ve ever experienced.”

“Dude, you have six best friends-”

“Ok, first you say I’m not your boyfriend, and then you stoop so low as to refer to me as dude?!”

Your laugh rings out loud and clear in the evening air, followed by Jin’s stupefied laughter. “You’re so dramatic,” you accuse, reluctantly freeing yourself from his grip as you near the car.

“Hey, you don’t get to judge me. It’s not like you’re my girlfriend.” Still bickering back and forth, Jin starts driving and heads off to the right instead of the left.

“Woah, where are we going?” You ask, frowning out at the night.

Jin shrugs. “Let’s go snoop around those houses again.”

“The ones by the zoo?”

“Yeah.”

You’re all too happy to go along with it. Clutching your hand atop the console, Jin maneuvers his way to the small hill overlooking the zoo.

“Wow,” you breathe out. “I forgot how beautiful this view is.”

Indeed it is. The city lights glow and glint in the distance, creating a warm blanket of familiarity. The zoo lights are shutting off, only a few left on here and there. The sound of music from floats up toward you as you roll the window down, drinking it in.

“The residents always hear the closing songs each night,” Jin supplies, somehow reading your mind as you wonder about the music coming from the zoo. “It turns off by ten on weekdays and eleven on the weekends.”

“How’d you know that?”

“I have some friends that live up here.”

You turn to look at Jin, eyes wide. “You do? How come you never told me?”

“They just moved,” he explains with a forgotten smile. “You wanna see their house?”

“Yes!”

Jin turns down a different street, slowly stopping before a beautiful home with colonial style columns in the front. Sure enough, there’s a sign in the front of the house with a red sticker stating SOLD for all to see.

“Should we look around the lot?” Jin asks, turning off the car and taking off his seat. “It looks like they’re not home right now, but they said we could look around if we wanted.”

“You told them we were coming?”

He shrugs, hopping out of the car and hurrying around to open up your door. “I mentioned that we’d be in the area.”

“Who are these friends of yours, anyway?” You ask, stepping out of the car. The house quite literally takes your breath away, and you turn around to capture the full view. The city is still visible, the zoo and its music appearing more like a memory than a reality. “Wow, this is amazing.”

“Uh,” Jin scratches the back of his neck. “Their names should be on the sign right there.”

Frowning, you ignore his avoidance of the question and skirt around him to walk up to the edge of the lawn. Crouching down, your eyes scan the sign for any names you might recognize. There’s a small paper, almost like a receipt, hanging from the sign. Smoothing it out from where it’s flowing in the breeze, you squint at the names that appear.

Sold to Mr. Kim Seokjin and –

You know that name. You know that man.

And the name beside his…

“It’s our names…?” You breathe out, not quite understanding. Straightening up, you turn to face Jin with a confused expression. “Why does it-”

There’s Jin, but he’s not where you left him.

He’s down on one knee, looking up at you with the expression he gets when he holds his breath. Behind him the city gleams as bright as ever, however it somehow dims in the face of what you see before you.

Jin, opening up a small box. And inside the velvety interior, a ring shining as though it were made of stars.

Suddenly, it clicks. The date to the zoo, where you’d first officially began this relationship. The house with your name on it, the way Jin had this day circled on the calendar for longer than you care to remember.

Jin can’t breathe, and he can tell by the way your chest has stopped rising that you can’t, either.

“I- I’d like to cash in that kiss now,” Jin stutters out.

In a rush of limbs and a mixture of laughter and sobs, you find yourself kneeling across from Jin and kissing him hard enough to bruise his plump lips. You’d feel bad, except for the fact that he returns the kiss with just as much fervor. When the kiss begins to taste of salt, you pull away to discern of those are your tears or his.

It’s both, you realize as Jin gazes at you, completely oblivious to the tears streaming down his cheeks.

“O-oh!” He exclaims, staring down at the ring box in his shaking hands. “Will you marry me?”

Without a single ounce of hesitation, you laugh, voice thick with emotion. “Yes!”

That’s all it takes for Jin to pull you in close again, attacking you with kisses at a speed you can’t keep up with. He pulls back, panting and eyes alight with pure elation. “And do you want to live here with me, then?”

You choke on a laugh, still crying and on your knees. “Of course I do, Seokjin. You- you bought me a house.”

“Yeah,” he sniffles. “I did.”

Then, gasping with wide eyes, Jin snaps his fingers. “I almost forgot!” Jumping up to his feet, he runs back to the car. You watch after him, too in shock to stand at the moment. Your glinting rings on your hand catches your attention, making you wonder when exactly he put it on. No doubt it was sometime in the midst of his breathless kisses.

Jin returns a moment later, dropping to his knees again. Nevermind the fact that there are plenty of places to sit. He has a lanyard around his neck, and he places another around your own.

“What’s this?” You ask, grabbing the little card hanging off of the end. Once you catch sight of it, you begin to laugh (and somehow cry) even harder.

Season passes to the zoo.

masterlist

Pretty boys and frozen mashed potatoes

All Robin had been able to talk about since they moved to California a week ago was Trader Joe’s. Steve went once in Indianapolis, just to see what all the hype was, and yeah, the food was good, and the cute, flirty cashiers were a bonus, but he didn’t really think it was worth making that much of a fuss over.

But what Robin wanted, Robin got, so off they went. Steve could barely find an empty space in the parking lot. He circled around the block three times, then got lucky after idling behind a woman packing up her bags for almost ten minutes. There was a lot of grumbling on his part, but finally, they were parked, and Robin was hopping with excitement over her grand shopping adventure.

She grabbed a cart, shoving her way through the crowd, and started loading it with everything within reach. Chips, dips, peanut butter cups, salads, it all went in.

“Rob, we do have a budget that we need to stick to”, Steve said, putting back two out of three of the thanksgiving dinner flavoured chips she’d added to the cart. She immediately added one of them back.

They rounded the corner, and she found the holy grail, the frozen items. Turkey corn dogs and chicken fried rice flew into the cart so fast he could barely register what they were.

“STEVE!”, she shouted, as if he wasn’t right next to her “They have frozen mashed potatoes! I don’t even know how that could possibly be good, but I have to have them!”

Finally, they headed to the cash. When Steve saw their cashier, he couldn’t believe his eyes. The cashiers at the Indy location were cute, but they had nothing on this guy. Long golden hair pulled up into a bun, beautiful blue eyes, and massive biceps, and he was wearing a Hawaiian shirt that was open more than was probably acceptable for a grocery store. Up to that point, he hadn’t put anything in the cart, but he had to interact with this guy, he just had to, so he grabbed a chocolate bar.

Robin paid first. The cashier made friendly conversation with her about her purchases, commenting on some of his favourites, wishing her a great day as he handed her the receipt. After her mountain of purchases, Steve felt a little silly with his lone chocolate bar, but he couldn’t let an opportunity to speak to this gorgeous guy pass him by, so he approached the till.

“Is that all for you today, pretty boy?” he asked, with a big, wolfish smile on his face. Steve blushed at the pet name. Wow, the cashier was even more gorgeous up close. His nametag said Billy. He kept smiling at Steve, clearly expecting a response. “Uh, uh, yeah”, Steve managed to stammer out.

“Well, I hope to see you around again some time,” Billy said. “Maybe I can show you around the store a little bit, recommend some of my favourites. My specialty is wine pairings. I’m just helping on cash right now because we’re having a bit of a rush. I can help you and your girlfriend pick out something nice.”

“Oh, Robin’s not my girlfriend, definitely not my girlfriend. Not my type. But I’ll come back soon for that wine recommendation. Kind of pathetic to sit and drink wine alone though. I’m new here. New to California, not Trader Joe’s. Well, I’m new to Trader Joe’s too, I’ve only been once. In Indianapolis. That’s where I’m from. Well, not Indianapolis, just Indiana in general. Hawkins. Small town. Nothing like this there.” He couldn’t stop rambling. He glanced over at Robin, who had an amused smile on her face.

“Well then, if you’re new, maybe I can show you around town some time,” he said, as he handed Steve his receipt.

“Uhhhhh yeah, that’d be cool. Cool. I’ll see you around some time.” He took his receipt, jammed it in his pocket, and darted out of the store, Robin hot on his heels.

“He likes you! Oh my god, we’re in California less than a week, and you’ve already got the number of a beautiful god!”

Steve started protesting “He’s probably like that with everyone. That’s like, part of the job. They have to flirt with everyone. Should I have gotten his phone number though? What if he was actually flirting with me? Should I go back? What if he’s not working the cash anymore? What do I do? Go up to him in the aisle? What if he’s in the back? Do I ask for him?...”.

“Hey dingus!” Robin cut in, laughing. “Look at your receipt. Just look!”

Steve pulled it out and written right across the back was Billy 555-1103 Call me.

“How? When?” Steve said, in shock.

“While you were rambling on back there, completely out of it, he was preparing to make his move.”

Maybe, just maybe, the lines and crowds and terrible parking would be worth it, thought Steve, a grin growing wider on his face by the second.

Destiel AU

| calm | soft | semi-canon | word count = 1,178 |

AU that occurs after Mary dies, Castiel distances himself by wiping the hunters' minds.

This is just one of the many random plot lines that formed in my head, this one just resides in my head im a warm setting, so enjoy.

preview:

Castiel hadn't spoken to dean or sam in months, ever since the incident, what had ruined it all, ever since Mary had died due to his actions, he had decided there was no going back for him.

If he was being honest it wasn't what he thought it would be, wiping his best friends minds of the memories he had alonside with them, from hunts to sharing his first beer(s), to watching over them as they slept in crappy motels. He thought throwing all that away would provoke some great unbearable emotion in him that would lead him frantically running back to the winchesters as soon as given the chance, but he was nothing more than just... empty.

Cas, after months of migrating country to country to distract himself, had given up on that idea and now worked at the nearest gas-n-sip 40 minutes from the bunker, where he spent hours restocking shelves and watching the clock tick every day, just hoping the boys would pop in on the way to one of their many hunts.

It was one of those days, where the temperature was just right and cool, the sun was bright enough to warm your skin but not overheat you, and the clouds complimented the the skys pretty blue. The store smelt fresh and the sunlight made it seem a much brighter and spacious place than it really was.

Castiel was refilling the beverage coolers with cans of soda, the rays of light coming from the blinds warming the back of his neck, just as he bent down to pick up another soda from the crate at his feet, the door chime started jingling.

He turned round to go towards the cashier, and said "How can I help you today?" as he looked up, to which he paused, eyes widened a little bit and gulped.

There it was, the rush of blood, his heart heavy, his head light, he felt, alive, it was impossible to keep himself standing up straight without feeling faint. Cas leant on the cold steel counter for support.

"He's here, he's really here" the angel thought to himself, he tried his best to not seem to overjoyed or terrified.

"Hi, my brother and I were wondering if you sell motor oil for that-" he flicked his index finger towards the sleek black impala outside the shop window, "pretty thing outside" he continued, raising his brows and smiling as if he told some form of joke, "I don't want to hurt her engine with any of that low quality crap" the man went on as he chuckled about how precious his "baby" was, practically oblivious of Castiel wincing at his voice and laughter.

Castiel was shut off, he'd been blankly staring into the mans eyes for the entirety of his car appreciation speech.

"So, the motor oil then?" he was brought back to reality.

"Agh, yes" Castiel walked out from behind the cashier leading the man towards an isle at the back of the store, "These are the finest we have, they're a bit expensive but worth the price, we also discount the changing charge if you purchase the oil here and get it changed here too."

He had said this speech so many times it had gotten flat and dull, but he did his best to put the energy back into the words. After all, it was him...

Cas waited as he watched the man pick up one of the containers while quickly skimming through the back, barely giving any attention despite his obvious excessive concern for the car.

"I'm assuming you'd like to purchase that one sir-?"

"Its Dean" He smiled, to which Castiel felt warmth he hadnt in ages, "and yeah, if its as friggin good as it says"

Castiel gave a laugh he had been practicing ever since he got the job, to seem human enough of course, but for the first time it didnt feel like a facade. It felt genuine, and he knew why.

Cas looked down as he he took the bottle from Deans hands and walked towards the cashier, Dean following not too far behind him. Castiel placed the bottle of motor oil on the countertop and started punching in numbers on the till, avoiding his every thought to take another glimpse at dean.

"Y'know, this might be crazy but-" Dean leant foward over the till and lifted a finger "I've seen that face before" now pointing directly at a shaky, half ecstatic half horrified Castiel.

"M-Me?", He chuckled nervously avoiding those eyes and looking towards the sanitary products aisle to his left. "No no I really doubt"

"Purgatory!" Dean exclaimed, mildly blushing, "Thats where right?" He was grinning at the thought.

Castiel froze, hand putting the motor oil bottle in a bag mid air, he was no longer smiling, "P-Purgatory?" he asked, squinting, trying his hardest to seem confused and not scared.

"Miami?" Dean straightened himself so that he was no longer bending towards the man, "Purgatory Miami right?" he asked again, the angel still completely oblivious to his reference.

"I-" Cas stuttered, "I don't think we've met" he finally shoved the motor oil into the plastic bag he was holding for what seemed like years.

"My bad," Dean shrugged, handing over the money for the motor oil with a subtle smirk towards Castiel. He thanked him and strutted towards the door and out into his car.

He was gone, that was it; Cas slumped back into the chair by the till, placing his elbows on the counter and letting his head rest upon his palms as he contemplated:

"He's not dead" he thought, "and he's happy?" now leaning back and looking up at the white plain ceiling. "Miami though, what was that about?" he scoffed to himself, "Guess i'll never find out".

He got up and walked back towards the beverage coolers and continued where he left off, restacking the sodas.

Castiel was relieved, Dean Winchester was somewhat happy, he was alive, and his plan had worked, leaving him to spend his days thinking about the man who had no memory of him.

Dean got into the car to which his brother whined "What took you so long?"

"I don't know man, weird guy," Dean replied, with less of the cheery tone he had from before.

"Weird how?" His brother asked, "our kind of weird?"

"No no Sammy," Dean mumbled as he looked to the back window of the car while backing out of the stores parking lot. "Pretty sure I'd seen him in a gay bar before, he denied it a bit too harshly"

"First off, what were you doing in a gay bar" Sam questioned looking confused but not concerned, "And second off why would you confront the guy?"

"It wasnt like that, I was on a case" Dean avoided his brother's assumption, "And I thought he'd find it funny, nothing serious"

They drove off into the road, and that was that, just silence all the way, the familiarity of the man was never really shaken off from Dean, it was almost like it was printed onto him.

Rip Out Our Seams and Stitch Us Together

Chapter One Word count: 1.9k Warnings: Uhhh brief talk of race, some language.  Chapter summary: You’re a seamstress in dc, with a tiny but successful shop run by your and your spunky cashier. Today you get a visitor that is far out of your usual demographic.

tag list: @captainsamwlsn @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa @readsalot73 @zeldasayer

(yes that’s a marilyn monroe pic she’s a major look for Valerie alright.)

Many believed that the eyes were the window to the soul, your father disagreed with that. He believed the truth of somebody's character was in their hands. 

“Shows a lot about them, little bee.” your father showed his own hands to you, wrinkled and scarred with tiny nics from years of work as a tailor. You were nine at the time, just last week you had completed your first sundress! You spent your afternoons after school in the shop with your father, doing whatever he asked. “-If they're a hard worker or if they don’t do anything at all. These little fellas will show you just that.” He wiggled his fingers at you before poking at your stomach, causing you to burst into a fit of giggles.

Twenty five years later and his words still ring true. When you first meet somebody, you don’t look at their clothes, or their smile, or even their eyes. You look for their character in their hands. 

So the moment the tiny bell rang at your shop door, your eyes were taken away from the pinned gown in front of you and towards the lithe fingers wrapped around the door handle. 

Manicured nails painted a deep red, fingers daintily curled, skin unscarred and void of all blemishes. Absolutely perfect. 

Who would expect any less of Maxwell Lord’s wife?

Your only other employee, Cassandra, a sweet sixteen year old girl you hired to watch the register and sweep floors, squeaked. 

“Hello,” She lifted the sunglasses from her face and set them utop her blonde curls. Her eyes zeroed in on you with an analytical gaze. In comparison to her floor length  fur coat and satin blouse, you suddenly felt flushed in your ripped trousers and patterned button up. “Are you the owner?” She put such infliction on each word you couldn’t tell if she was judging your store or the fact that you owned it.

Either way you felt like you were supposed to be offended. 

“That I am.” 

She slid her coat off, looking at your coat rack with a wrinkled nose before finally setting it on the hook. She walked around your store, taking in the little knick-knacks that lined the counter and the racks of clothing with a judgmental eye. 

Her eyes flicked to Cassandra, who still stood behind the register with her jaw dropped open. 

Mrs.Lord smiled and tapped the underside of her chin and she snapped her mouth shut. 

“You made all of these yourself?” Her voice was smooth like silk, but had a sharp edge to it. You felt as if you were waiting to embarrass yourself in front of her. She took a white sundress into her hands, feeling the fabric between her fingers. 

“Most of them.” You answered. She froze and raised a sculpted brow.

“Most?”

You shrugged your shoulders. “Some of these are thrift store finds, just altered and restyled.” Her ruby lips bent into a frown, glaring at the dress she held with disappointment. 

“That one is an original though.”

She stared at the dress for a moment, face scrunched up in thought before she regained her cool composure and tossed it to you over her shoulder, which landed on your face. “Be a dear and hold that for me, would you?”

You didn’t get a chance to answer. By the time you lifted the lace that obscure your vision, she was already looking at another dress. You followed behind her. 

Why the hell not? You thought to yourself as she handed you a satin blouse. You didn’t have any other customers at the moment, and you aren't being met with for a design consultation for another three hours. 

Besides, how often is it that Valerie fucking Lord walks into your store like a frequent customer?

She continued to walk around your store, red heels echoing throughout as she stopped at certain dresses and tops (mostly those of silk or lace) to admire them, before either adding them to the growing pile in your arms, or setting them back on the rack with a sour look. The entire time she did, you wondered what it was that drew in her to your tiny shop. 

The woman before you had been a big deal since she was born. Before she was Valerie Lord, she was Valerie Ackkerman. Her father had been a Hollywood director in the fifties who married an up and coming actress hot to the scene. The couple dominated the big screen and became a loved pair to America, that is until her mother got a baby bump, got demoted to supporting roles for the rest of her career, and her father continued to go on and  make films many to this day still consider iconic. 

You considered most of them to be a racist and misogynist, but you suppose they were simply a product of their time. 

And a shitty director. 

Valerie Ackkerman became Dr.Ackkerman, psychiatrist with multiple books surrounding a vast majority of subjects that can affect one’s mental state. Such as greed, fame, and the lack of proper paternal figures to shape your childhood.

Which made her choice in marriage all the more ironic. 

Maxwell Lord the fourth was a man as American as apple pie and the corporate greed that came as a table side. He’d taken over his father’s company at the ripe age of sixteen at his passing, having been groomed for the position since he was a child. 

Maxwell Lord was known as a ruthless tycoon, a tech mogul who will smile wide in his commercials before making a grown man cry in his boardroom. His wife was just as feared as him and seeing her before you now, you perfectly understood why. She was prettier than sin itself and just as rich. Which begged the question…

Why in God’s name was she in your shop?

“How long have you been sewing?” A floor length skirt with a slit up the leg was tossed in your arms. 

“Since I can remember.” Her fingers ghosted along the hangers before plucking a pink slip dress off the rack and holding it up against her body. “My father was a tailor. He taught me everything he knew.” She turned to the mirror on the other side of the room and looked at her reflection while smoothing out the fabric of the dress. “When he passed away I took over the shop, but I basically ran it already.”

She chuckled, shaking her head as if your father's death had tickled her so. “Sounds like somebody I know.”  Mrs. Lord turned to you, the dress pressed against her body. “Thoughts?”

Your eyes roamed over her body as you tried to form sentences, but nothing came out in fear of saying the wrong thing in front of a woman so powerful, she could burn your shop to the ground with a single call to her husband. 

Beautiful. You wanted to say. And terrifying. 

“It suits you.” 

She turned back to the mirror, her eyes focused on your reflection instead of her own. She tilted her head to the side and hummed. You felt like you were on display, being examined, picked apart and analyzed by the prettiest blue eyes you've ever seen in your life. 

“I know.”

When she walked past you to the register and you got a waft of her perfume, something sharp and citrusy, most likely belonging to a brand you wouldn’t dream of wearing. 

Cassandra rang her up in silence, nervously looking up from each item to the woman standing in front of her. Her hands trembled so bad you could see the fabric shake when she picked them up. 

You would have taken over for her, but  you were trying to ignore the burning sensation in your face at her judgmental gaze. You’d seen it all before, from women like her. Rich, white, beautiful, and privileged as all hell. You knew the way her eyes scanned your clothes, critiquing your curls, the cut of your jeans and the pattern of your button up that lay partially open against your chest. 

You wish you could say you were sick of it. But mostly? You just didn’t give a shit. 

Cassandra’s shaking hands dropped the bag into the floor before it reached Valarie’s, she looked about ready to cry before you stepped in. 

“Oh god I’m so-”

“It’s fine Cassie.” Her red lips snapped shut at your interjection and blase tone. 

You swiped the plastic bag and held it out to the woman with a neutral face.“Eighty-nine fifty.” You told her. She looked at you as if you had grown a second head. 

She must not be used to being treated like something other than royalty. 

But that look was replaced by a coy smile. She took the plastic bag full of clothes from your hands and handed you a thick wad of cash that was well over the amount she owed. Red, manicured nails trailing down your palm as she did. 

You suppressed a shudder. 

“You know-” She took the lace sundress out of her bag, thumb trailing along the seam. “-Your work is on par with some of the brands I wear.” You weren’t sure why the sight of her stroking something you made felt so damn intimate, but you felt like you needed to look away as if you were interrupting something.“-Maybe even better than them.”

Christ, you needed to get out more. 

“Well yeah.” You shrugged matter of factly and crossed your arms. “That’s because I’m driven by artist integrity. Not making some shoddy dress and slapping a fancy brand on it, in hopes that some trust fund baby will wear it to her next yacht party.”

The moment those words left your lips you realized you had said them to the wealthiest customer you ever had. 

Who laughed. 

Cassandra went pale as a sheet while you spoke, looking between you and the woman worth more than your entire store like she expected an explosion. 

Mrs. Lord smiled at you. “We’ll you're right about that. I have to agree.” Her hands ran down the side of the dress and stopped when she felt a fold in the white fabric. “Are these-”

“Pockets?” You grinned, like it was your greatest achievement. Honestly? It kind of was. “Sure are. Decently sized ones too, can fit your whole hand in and everything.” To prove your point, the heiress stuck her entire hand into the pocket and wiggled it with a laugh. 

“There’s still more room in it!” She sounded so in awe and excited, it reminded you of a child on Christmas. 

Her joy was infectious. 

“Every dress I make has pockets, it’s sort of like my signature.”

“Every dress?”

You drew an X over your heart. “Stitches guarantee.”

Mrs. Lord grinned. “You're certainly one of a kind miss...”

You told her your name, and she repeated it back. The way she said it made it sound like the brand name of a thousand dollar purse. 

“But you can call me stitches.” You said simply. “Everybody does.”

Cassandra looked at you with wide eyes, shocked that you went from accidentally insulting her to being chummy enough to share the silly nickname you got from customers. 

“Do they now?” She walked to the coat rack and slipped her jacket on. “Well tell me this, Stitches-” Mrs.Lord took the glasses off the top of her head and slid them over her eyes. “Do you do commission work?”

You blinked for a moment. “Well I do, but-”

She squealed and clapped her hands. “Oh perfect! We’ll be in touch then.”

“Wait-” You faltered, trying to run from behind the counter after her, but all you succeeded in doing was banging your hip against the corner. “Fuck! Who’s we?”

“Oh don’t you worry about that.” She opened the door and looked over her shoulder. “One more thing though, do you make suits as well?”

A/n:SHE’S HERE BABY WOOOOO. Iv’e been talking headcanons with @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa for like a week and a half now about this bad boy and im so excited to get the ball rolling! I love max and i love poly ships so HERE WE ARE Valerie lord owns my ass yall. Anyways please don’t feel shy to send me messages about these babes, asks, critiques or just come say hello! Let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list, i hope you all have a good and safe day <3

what’s your favorite trope in vore? write it ♥︎

Anon bless your soul bc I got to write something very self indulgent that only appeals to me, probably. This might be a blend of more than one favorite trope, but hey! I loved writing this! It’s pretty long, so apologies to you guys for that ; ; I love dialogue!

Inkopolis was a bustling hub of culture and activity, filled to the brim with seafolk of all kinds. Nestled in the corner of the plaza was a cafe known as the Coral Reef, which was notably quieter than the area around it. Inside it seemed as though things were slow, with only one cashier behind the counter and a handful of inklings enjoying their snacks. Artemis, the colossal inkling behind the counter, is staring off into space with a rather dreamy expression on his face. Truth be told he was waiting on a certain someone he adored to come in today, and the gentle chime of the door being opened got his attention. In strolled an ink stained inkling, one he knew very well and it caused him to grin. “Well, if it isn’t the one and only~ You look like you’ve been in a fight or two.” The small bobtail squid strides up to the counter, sighing as she tries to wipe ink off herself. “Ugh, hey Artie...ranked was a struggle today. What’s with the look, did you get a raise or something?” He shook his head and stood up to his full height, reaching under the counter and handing her a towel to dry herself off with. “No no Ace, I was just thinking about some things. Thanks for bringing me back to reality, as you tend to do berry blue~” Ace takes the towel and wipes her face, hiding the small blush Art’s baritone voice brought her. He was always a big flirt, but he always laid it on a bit thicker with her. She figured it was just how he was, but she couldn’t help but get blue in the face when he directed them at her. Setting down the towel, she yawns and stares up at the menu. “So, whatcha got today? I’m starved after all that action!” “Well~” He hummed, gesturing to the display case full of treats. “I just finished setting out some of our house specials and a few fruit cheesecakes! I’ve been working on a little secret that may be on the menu as well, buuuut it could use some taste testing to assure its quality!” Ace’s eyebrows raised in curiosity, interested in the new development. “A secret, huh? Mind telling me, your best customer??” She smiled at him, and one to match it slowly grew on Art’s face.

If he can pull this off...he’ll have her right where he wants her.

“Well...it wouldn’t be a secret if I said it during business hours, but you are my best~” He leaned down to whisper it into the much smaller squid’s ear, taking note that she smells deliciously sweet as always. “Red Velvet Cake~ How’s about you come try it for me? You’ve got good taste!” Literally. Or, so he hoped. Ace visibly perked up, that was her favorite! And Artemis made the best cakes, she almost immediately jumped on the offer but a realization gave her pause. That back room...she’s seen a few inklings go back there with him, but only he ever stepped back out. She was suspicious, but the allure of her favorite dessert was a hard one to resist...going back for just one slice shouldn’t hurt. “Alright, you got me...I’ll just have a slice, I wanna get back to turf!” Artemis can hardly contain his delight, he’s been waiting so long for this day! “Ah, so the blue beauty finally joins me for a tasting session...I must say, I’m honored~” He opens the little door that separates the two of them, beckoning for her to come back with him. “Layin’ it on kinda thick there, Artie.” She grumbles as she follows his lead, trying to ignore the blush on her cheeks. He opens the door to the back for her with a wide smile, the light glinting a bit off of his fangs. Curiously and a bit hesitantly, she peers into the room and is met with the sweet scent of things baking. There’s a tray of muffins cooling on the table, along with a covered pan. Is that it? As if he was reading her mind, the orange-hued inkling stepped forward and pulled the cover off, revealing the red dusted cake to her with a mock bow. “Ta-daaa~ A lovely cake for the lovely little lady.”  Ace gasps in delight, moving over to get a closer look. “Oh, Artie...that looks so good! Cut me a slice please!” He’s way ahead of her, slicing through the moist cake as she says this and cutting her a sizable piece. “Your wish is my command, sweetness~ Enjoy!” Ace smiles at him and wastes no time digging into the moist cake, humming in delight at its sweet flavor. It doesn’t take long for her to finish it, and she pushes the plate away with a happy sigh. “That was a perfect pre-game snack, thank you so much! This’ll be a big hit with the customers, I guarantee it!”  “Thank you for your input, but is it good enough for seconds?” He nudges another slice onto her plate as he says this, it’s slightly bigger than the last. “Well, I don’t want to get sick fighting...after this I’m going to get going, okay?” The cake was eaten so as not to disappoint her large friend, and when she was finished she stood up and prepared to leave, much to Artemis’ dismay. “You’re leaving so soon? Ace my dear, I haven’t seen you all day...why don’t we talk about how you are over a third slice of cake?” Ace stared at him a bit suspiciously, why did he want her to eat so much of it? “Third…? That’s a lot of cake and I’m just one squid, I want to stay in fighting shape!”“Oh darling, every shape of yours is flattering and ready for a fight~ I baked this with love knowing you’d see me today...won’t you eat my gift to you?” She blushed, her tentacles curling up a bit as he mixes a few flirts into his words. “It’s a lot, can’t I just take it home?” Artemis’ stomach growls impatiently, he better move fast...charming her is fun and all, but his cravings are growing stronger by the moment. “I would much rather see those cute cheeks puffed out as you finish it off...come on, it’s taking you on! The great Ace could finish off a cake just as easily as she can wipe a team!” Ace nervously eyes the cake, it was smaller than what he’d normally bake as it was for tasting purposes, but it was still a lot for her. However, it’s at his insistence, and she didn’t want to waste something he made specifically for her… “Alright, fine. You owe me if I can finish this off!” “Oh not to worry, you’ll definitely be rewarded~” He smiles, trying to keep his exterior calm as he watches his plan work beautifully. Ace drills through the cake despite her previous remarks, leaving her with a visibly stuffed stomach that Artemis eyes hungrily. He didn’t want to abuse her competitive spirit but it was worth it, it’s about time for him to eat.... The sound of a chair scraping against the floor pulled the colossal squid from his hungry thoughts, and he watches in surprise as Ace stands up to leave. “Ugh, definitely overate...I think I’m just going to head home, sorry Art.” No, she can’t leave now! He can’t, he won’t let this opportunity slip through his fingers now that he’s so close! As she makes her way to the door he quickly cuts her off, leaning against it and smiling nervously. “W-wait Ace, you can’t go quite yet…" She stares up at him, his immense size over her starting to intimidate her alongside his weird behavior. "A-art, why can't I leave…?" The look in his eyes is ravenous, and as he leans down closer to her she can hear the loud and impatient growls of his stomach. "Ace...I've wanted this for the longest time now, I'm sorry…" He opens his mouth wide, his orange, slimy tongue dragging itself up the side of her face, making it clear exactly where she'll be going. Rattled, Ace digs her hands into his large, soft belly, hoping to get him away from her. “A-ARTEMIS! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” He’s undeterred, making a shaky and pleased hum as she’s sweeter than he could have possibly imagined. “I’m sorry, I just can’t hold myself back any longer...you’ll be fine, I can promise you that much.” No longer listening to her protests he clamps his mouth down over her head, sealing her in humid darkness and continuing his tasting. Though now he’s mostly driven by hunger he gently strokes her back, trying to relax her so he doesn’t accidentally hurt her. She squirms and struggles as much as she can, tapping into her battle strength even, but it’s moot as Art pulls her further into his mouth and begins swallowing. Her small size relative to him makes eating her simple, with a powerful gulp already pulling her head and chest into his throat and her belly into his maw. He takes his time here, licking all over it and savoring her flavor and its fullness, before standing up and tilting his head back to let gravity do the work for him. Ace’s struggles gave out at this point, and she let peristalsis and the occasional light glurp from the colossal inkling pull her ever deeper to the loud groaning that was his stomach. When she was finally entirely sealed in his throat he sighed, sitting down in a chair and gently rubbing his stomach as she slipped inside it. She curls up without another word, and there’s a beat of silence before Artemis speaks again. “Ace...I’m truly sorry for deceiving you like this, but...I love you. I have for so long, and I wanted you as close to me as possible...you’re safe in there, I would never bring any harm to you. I just...wanted you in my embrace.” She lays still in him, processing his words. All those flirts...he meant them? She wondered if he was telling the truth, and judging by his stomach’s harmless churning and quiet, gentle burbling, he must have meant it. She had always liked him, but didn’t quite know what to say. As if he read her thoughts, he spoke again. “I understand that it’s overwhelming...when I let you out, we can talk more. I just want to hold you for a while, if that’s fine…” She subtly shifts, which is about the best answer she can give. He sighs, settling in to give her a massage. Truth be told, it wasn’t as bad as she thought in here….will he be doing this more if they got together?

She wouldn’t mind the idea of cuddling like this, if so.

Coffee Date?! - BoruSara

Art by: @emancipate-art​ my first collab with Manci!! <3 Please go to his profile and check out his stuff. Commissions are open, too. :)

Rated: K+ 

Genre: Fluff / Humor 

Written for @borusaraweek2020​ D7: Coffee

Beta-read by: @ss-tyytyy​ <3 

...

“Come on, Boruto! Hurry up!” Sarada was absolutely ecstatic. The grin on her face, as well as the pink tint on her cheeks, were starting to look permanent. And if Boruto just wasn’t such a sore loser, he might have found it cute. Maybe. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming,” he muttered and stuffed his hands in his pockets. His lower lip jutted out as he watched her walk ahead with a spring in her step, short hair swaying along with the cool spring breeze, and that sweet smile on her face. 

Yeah, he definitely didn’t find her cute. At all. 

It was a bad idea, letting her taunt him into making a bet that she could hit more bullseyes than he could. But his stupid pride and his stupid want to look cool in front of her had won over. Sarada was the best at shuriken jutsu. Everyone knew that, including Boruto. But despite knowing the facts, he took her up on her bet. 

“Loser buys coffee after training.” She grinned slyly. 

“Ha! You’re on. But if I win, we go to Thunder Burger,” Boruto huffed.

“It doesn’t matter where you want to go, because we’re surely going to Ninbucks,” Sarada replied as she crossed her arms across her chest.

And that is exactly what happened. Boruto should have already known—Sarada was always right. Now he was standing outside the coffee shop, gazing up at the green logo and sighed. Of course, she would want to take advantage of her win and come here. Boruto could kiss that pack of Ninja cards goodbye. 

He followed her into the store, the aroma of coffee enveloping his senses. Boruto took a deep breath and closed his eyes, and a small smile formed on his lips. Okay, maybe coming here wasn’t such a bad idea. 

“What should I have, what should I have,” Sarada mused to herself as she tapped her lower lip with her index finger, those dark eyes gazing at the menu board overhead. “What will you be getting, Boruto?” 

His eyes widened a bit, he hadn’t thought about it. All he thought about was getting Sarada her coffee. He didn’t think that they would actually be staying in the cafe. “I don’t know yet,” he admitted and stood next to her in the queue in order to see what they were offering. 

“I think I want to get a cake, too.” Sarada looked at the chiller before her, her dark eyes going wide with excitement. “Their chocolate cake here is good.” 

“Hey!” Boruto puffed his cheeks. “Our bet just involved coffee!” 

“Yes, yes,” Sarada waved her hand at him dismissively. “This one’s on me. Let’s share.” She turned her gaze at him and smiled. 

His eyes widened and turned his face away. “O-okay, fine.” 

Sarada walked up to the cashier and said her orders. She then turned to look at Boruto and asked what he wanted. “I’ll have what you’re having.” 

This surprised her, but she grinned. “Good choice.” She said before turning to the cashier to finalize her order. Boruto pulled out his wallet and handed the cashier some bills, and Sarada did the same. 

They both walked over to an empty table and sat across from each other. The couch was surprisingly comfortable. Paired with the smell of coffee and Sarada’s warm presence, Boruto allowed himself to relax and lean back. The two of them spoke about their training routine, and it wasn’t long until they called Sarada’s name to pick up their orders. She made a move to stand, but Boruto stopped her. “Don’t worry, I got it.” He got up on his feet and picked up the tray. 

Blue eyes widened when he turned and caught sight of her. The way Sarada was leaning back on the couch with a tired yet soft smile on her face as she watched him approach, the light from the window giving her an ethereal glow. His heart stuttered for a moment.

Okay… Maybe he did find her cute. 

Boruto carefully put the tray down on the table in front of them, cheeks tinted pink as he was now so painfully aware of her attention on him. He peeked at her, deeming it safe now that she was cooing over the cake and coffee. Boruto swallowed and his cheeks burned all the more. 

If buying her coffee meant seeing her smile like this, he wouldn’t mind doing it a little more often. 

The cake really was good, and Boruto enjoyed sharing it with her. The coffee that Sarada chose was also pretty good, just the right amount of bitter and sweet mixed into one smooth hot concoction.

“Better than Thunder Burger, huh?” She asked slyly. 

“What?” How could she even suggest such a thing? “No way!” He scoffed. 

Sarada giggled and took a sip of her coffee. “It was worth a shot, but this is nice for a change, don’t you think? You shouldn��t be eating too many burgers, too.” 

“I can eat what I want,” Boruto sulked, taking a small sip of his coffee. The taste was far from his favorite, but he had to admit, Sarada was right. “Though… I guess you’re right. This is nice,” he muttered. 

That put a wide grin on her face, cheeks turning pink. “I’m happy.” Sarada scooted off the chair and pulled her phone out. “We should take a photo. The day that I almost made you admit Ninbucks is better than Thunder Burger, and treat me to a coffee date.” She took her glasses off, picked up the coffee cup and looked back at him. “Ready?” 

Boruto was shocked, too little time to react to what she just said. 

A coffee date?! 

His cheeks burned. So this is a date. And with Sarada, too. He turned away, a pout on his face.   

Sarada took a barrage of photos, and captured a portion of Boruto looking surprised, one with a pout, another peeking at her, a soft smile forming on his face, before finally turning into a wide smile. 

If this is what dates were like with Sarada, maybe Boruto would want more of it. 

Sarada stopped taking photos, put her glasses back on, and looked at the photos, laughing upon seeing his expression. “Boruto, what was that pout for?” She showed him the screen. “It’s not like you to be this way for photos.” She kept on scrolling and found the last photo—of her and Boruto with wide smiles on their faces. “That’s the smile I was looking for.” 

She showed him a photo of the screen, and Boruto couldn’t help but smile warmly. “Send me that, would ya?” 

“Sure. I’ll post it, too.” Sarada got on her phone, thumbs going over the screen, sending him the photo and posting it on Ninstagram. 

Right when Sarada posted it, she put her phone away and went back to her coffee, chatting about what her hopes were for their next mission. Boruto did the same and took a slice of cake, happily exchanging wishes for a higher ranked mission next time as well. 

Boruto walked her home, just when the sun was setting and the sky was painted with colors of pink and orange. He waved at her, and waited until she was inside before turning heel and walking towards his own house. The phone in his pocket started vibrating like crazy, and he pulled it out, looking at all the notifications his guy friends were sending in their group chat. 

His eyes went wide and heat filled his cheeks as he read the messages from his friends, all filled with teasing—teasing him with Sarada. Boruto couldn’t even speak right, choking on words and feeling his face heat up from all of their messages. Boruto stuffed his phone in his pocket and marched away.

As much as he tried being huffy about it, whenever he would think about Sarada, his heart would feel so much lighter and at some point, he couldn’t stop smiling. He caught himself, groaned and stuffed his hands in his pockets. 

Great. Boruto’s crushing on Sarada. 

He kicked a rock on the pavement and pouted. Well, it’s not like he would ever admit it. 

At least, for now. 

...

If you like my fics, please do visit my profile. I have links to my Masterpost, FFnet, Ao3, Twitter, and Ko-Fi there. :)  

A Trip to the Mainland (Taiyuu cooking event) (?)

@taiyuu-high-oct

A Train from Taiyuu Island to Mainland Japan took a couple hours, hours of ocean, boredom and more ocean. Staring at the TV, Zeke remembered a time before Taiyuu, before Japan even. 

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A small town on the coast of Germany, a large building, a small apartment. 

A teenager enters, around 17 years old, wiping his feet and looking around, the clock reads 8pm. He spotted his younger brother in the living “room” by himself watching cartoons. The younger one couldn’t be older than 9. 

“Hey, kiddo. Where’s Mum?” 

“She got called into work.”

Frustrated in his mother’s irresponsibility and lack of note, the older brother tried to keep the conversation going as he made his way to the kitchen.

“Whatcha doing?”

“Watchin TV.”

“Oh, so you found the remote?” “No.” Flick. The channel changed. 

Opening the pantry the older brother found… half a loaf of bread and a whole lot of empty space.

“Have you had anything to eat yet?”

“No. Mum was gonna get groceries but she got called into work.”

Biting his fist in frustration, the older brother pounded the pantry door with his head. Silently seething in anger the older brother put on a happy face, the older brother came out and sat next to the younger brother. 

“Let’s go out for dinner tonight, just you and me.” “Won’t Mum and Dad get angry?” “They’ll never know, I got a little extra money from work today.”

“I mean… sure.”

“Alright, get your stuff ready and we’ll leave in a few.” The older brother wrote a note for their Mother, if she returned home tonight. 

When the two got ready and were almost out the door, the younger brother stopped.

“Umm... Schlaut?”

“What’s up Zeke?”

“Are you sure Mum and Dad won’t find out?”

“Hey, we’ll leave our trash in a public bin, they’ll never know.”

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Finally on the Mainland of Japan Zeke had a couple trips to make. 

The first stop for today was to withdraw money, but look like a cool guy, Sunglasses on. Wandering around the Whatever City, Zeke can’t remember what it’s called, he started to get his bearings. 

‘Alright, grocery shop’s there, post office’s there and-’

Zeke felt a rumble down to his core.

‘It’s going to be a thunderstorm tonight.’

Finally finding an ATM in Whatever City, that took forever. Taking his “Credit” Card out Zeke approached the ATM, noone was nearby anyway but he still felt he had to play the part. 

Feeling the ATM Zeke felt all the different compartments, searching for the most used 4, Zeke found what he needed.

Trying the first one: Whirr, Zzzt And Dispense. 1000 Yen, not quite what he needed. 

Next compartment: Whirr, Zzzt and Dispense. 5000 Yen, close but not the notes he needed. 

The Third compartment: Whirr, Zzzt and Dispense. 10,000, exactly what Zeke needed. 

Grabbing an extra 13 10k Yen bills Zeke had enough to pay for his tuition, with some left over. 

That wasn’t right, only take what you need. Zeke remembered when this all became second nature to him, why quickly searching these machines became so easy. 

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“That’d be 50 Euros sir.” A cashier lady, in a large mall grocery store. 

“I’m really sorry, can you wave it just this once?” Schlaut, now at the age of 19, pleaded to the cashier holding a 20 Euro note. 

“I’m sorry sir, if you couldn’t afford it you shouldn’t have picked it up.” 

“But this is all we have for the week, we’ll go hungry without this food.” Schlaut 

“Then get 20 Euros worth of food or get out of the store.”

“Fine. C’mon Zeke we’re outta here.” Zeke, now 11 years old, followed his brother out of the store.

“What’s the plan now Schlaut?”

“I dunno kiddo, we’ll figure something out.”

It wasn’t long into the usual walk home when they walked past an ATM, it’s screen illuminating the sidewalk. The screen flickered strange colours, reds, blues even a neon green. Schlaut paused, did a slow turn on his feet and paced to the ATM. 

“Zeke?” “Yeah Schlaut?”

“Are you doing that?”

Zeke’s stiffened and he turned his face away from his brother. 

“Zeke look at me.”

Zeke reluctantly looked at his Older Brother, the pupils of his brown eyes glowing a slight blue. 

“Did I do something wrong?” Zeke was looking at the ground in shame.

“No no no no nononono nono, no Zeke. You did something very, very right.” Schlaut hadn’t felt this excited in a while. 

“Let’s play a game Zeke, see if you can find some paper in this machine.” Schlaut pointed to the ATM. 

“You mean money, isn’t that stealing?” Zeke was willing to do this, but he wasn’t very happy about it.

“Hey, we’re only going to take what we need ok? No more. We’re not villains, we’re survivors. See if you can find a 20 note and a 10 note.” Zeke had found a way to save us!

“Ok. I’ll try.” 

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Returning back to the present Zeke held about 2000 Yen too much in his hands. The fridge at Taiyuu was running low, this money seems appropriate for everyone to use. 

Zeke went to that small grocery store he passed by earlier. Fresh fruits and vegetables, that’s what Taiyuu needed, none of that instant shit. Apples, carrots, broccoli and one pack of the cheapest Cup Noodles he could find. 

‘How would the others at Taiyuu react? I don’t think Sako or Spellman would be particularly fond of me anymore. Ah well, they won’t find out. All the years of pulling this same stunt we were only found out once.’

Zeke paid a total of 1962 yen.

“Have a good day.”

“Yeah, you too.”

‘Only found out once.’

Supermarket (Schlauts Quirk)

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“How’s that Zeke, just enough to get us through this week. Mum should have  the day off tomorrow so we’ll cook a whole bunch then.” Schlaut, now 21, said to his brother Zeke, now 13.  

“Yeah, maybe Dad’d have time to help as well.” 

“I doubt it kiddo.”

RUUUUUUMMMBBBBBLEEE

“We should get going before it rains, seems like a storm is brewing. 

Off they were on the usual walk home, Through an empty courtyard, groceries in hand. Not too much, just enough to get by. 

“Hey Asshole!”

Schlaut turned, almost like he was expecting this.

“Yes, Gregory?” 

A potbellied man, more of a sphere than a man, called out to the two. 

“You mess with one of us, you mess with all of us.”

“Us?” Zeke panicked.

“There’s about 4 of them, stay behind me Zeke.”

“What, who are you talking about, how do you know these people?”

“It’s complicated. You wouldn’t understand.”

3 other men came up from behind the Sphere Man. One looked too long to be normal, another looked like a leaf man, the last one had spines coming out of his back. 

“Yeah, not so tough are ya now there’s more of us.” Sphere man said, he sounded like he was from New York, which is weird because this is Germany. 

“Huh, Good one boss.” The Leaf Man said, he had a very deep voice.

“Yeah, good one boss.” The Spine Man said, he had a very snively voice.

“Hehehe, heheh hehehe hehehe” The Long Man said, he had a very creepy laugh.

“You made it easier for me.” Schlaut butted in, sounding far too confident for a 4 on 1 fight. 

RUUUUMMMMMMMBLLLLLLEEEEE

Long Man reached over and punched Sphere Man in the face. 

“Aaaah, Tony, whaddya doin? Hit him not me!” Sphere Man was both confused and angry

“Heheheh, heheh, Hehehehhe!” The Long Man’s laugh seemed very panicked and confused. 

Leaf Man punched Spine Man, Spine Man grabbed Long Man. It was a free for all, none of the assorted goons and henchmen ever came near Schlaut and Zeke, Zeke leaned over Schlauts shoulder.

“What are they doing Schlaut? Why are they here?” Schlaut looked back at his younger brother. “Don’t worry, Zeke, they’re taking care of it themselves.” Schlaut looked at Zeke for a moment, just one moment was all it took for Zeke to notice the slight red glow from his brother's pupils. 

It wasn’t too long before the four strangers were all on the ground unconscious. Not once did the 4 even take a step towards the Funkee brothers. 

“Let’s go Zeke, it’s all taken care of.” “But… but-” “Let’s GO Zeke.” 

RUUUUMMMMMMMBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBLLLLLLEEEEE

They turned to continue on their way home, when Zeke heard skidding. No. Rolling? Turning around in curiosity Zeke saw Sphere Man rolling towards them, like a ball. A very angry ball. 

“Schlaut, look out!” Zeke jumped, panicked and….

FLASH

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMM

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Not done for the day yet, still gotta send a letter off to Mum back in Germany, quick visit to the Posty and back to Taiyuu. Card, letter, shipping. Totaling 300 yen, that is cheap! 

Hey Mum,

Taiyous Taiyuus going great, i think im really hitting it off with everybody here. This place seems more my style than uA anyway. Theres a whole bunch of really weird people here. One person can  even shapeshit shapeshift!

Anyway hows things with you, hows the new job in France? 

Has Schlaut come back yet?

Love, 

Zeke

“Just one letter, wouldn’t a text be better?” The teller was confused.

“It’s just a little tradition we have. Notes and written things are easier to keep anyway.”

Zeke made his way back to Taiyuu, hours on the train, again. The news reports were going on about a villain by the name “The King”. Luckily Taiyuu covered the costs of going back to Mainland Japan. Making his way back to the kitchen area Zeke deposited the fruits and veggies into the communal fridge. However, Zeke kept the Noodle Cup.

Zeke set the kettle to boil and thought of the day everything changed, the day Schlaut left. There was no bang, there was no warning. Around when Zeke was 13 Schlaut just, poof, gone. The whole family thought he was dead for months until Zeke’s 14th birthday, where Zeke got an RC car, brand new and very high end. It came with a note.

Hey Kiddo, Happy Birthday. Sorry I couldn’t be there this year

Noone ever really bothered Zeke again, of course Zeke still had his friends but noone bullied, assaulted or even annoyed him again. The icecream place even gave him a discount. Teachers were a whole lot nicer, even recommending him to hero courses like UA: LA, Shiketsu and Seijin. That was 2 years ago. 

The screech of the kettle brought Zeke out of his thoughts. Filling his Cup Noodles with boiling water Zeke had made a shitty meal at Taiyuu.

BOOOOOOOMMMMMM

“Ow ow ow ow ow ow ow hot hot hot hot hot hot hot hot.”

Maybe not.

CW: Suicide attempt, bullying, captivity, autocannibalism, force feeding, amputation, torture, negative assumptions, verbal abuse, depressive thoughts, suicidal ideation, suicidal thoughts, implied parental abuse, referenced death of a parent.

I purposely tried to make this character annoying, petty, and judgemental. Just thought it’d be an interesting character to try and write in a whumpy scenario. I don’t know if this is too long or if I’m not doing the squares right by doing so many at once lol @badthingshappenbingo enjoy

Julie just wanted to have friends. She moved from a small town to an even smaller town every few months, her mother promised that this time, she’d get a stable job and they could stay for more than a few months without her mother’s anger issues getting her fired.

This was better than nothing. She couldn’t afford to be picky when there were people with much worse lives than her. Julie should be grateful she had a roof over her head and food on the table and clean clothes, as her mother loved to remind her.

It’s going to get better, it’s not going to be like this all the time, you’ll get out and you’re going to be happy and you’re going to be free from all the suffering and put it all behind you. One day you’ll be happy and realize how strong you are for enduring this all by your lonesome. 

She had to tell herself this, it was the only way she could get through the day..but things were starting to look up this time.

Julie and her mother had been in their newest town for almost a year by this point. As much as she hated to admit it, Julie didn’t completely hate it here.  Her school was tolerable enough..she’d even managed to make a few acquaintances in Drama club, not that she was the acting type. She’d rather be the one supporting from the sidelines as a stagehand.

The real surprise was when she was invited to a party. She thought it was a waste of time.

“I guess that’d be fine, I’ll ask my mom if it’s okay.” She regretted it as soon as the words forced their way out of her mouth.

A snicker at the mention of her mother came from one of those stupid, shallow bitches. What was her name again? Jodie? Doesn’t matter, she was sure it was one of them, why wouldn’t they be laughing at her? Whatever, she’d show them by going to their dumb party.

Her mother said that she could go, and before she left she even told her to “Have fun with your friends, sweetheart.”

She took a sip from her water bottle and surveyed the house from the road where she had left her bike, she hadn’t gone in for a few minutes after arriving. She wanted to make her entrance perfect.

Was this worth her dignity? No..but it was worth her time, look at how lonely and smart Julie is!  They’d have to be her friend after that even if it was born from pity, someone would.

Waiting for another five minutes she glanced at her watch. 6:30. It was now or never.

No one was inside the house when she’d opened the door.

Jodie walked down the stairs after a second and gave a cheeky grin at her arrival.

“Hey, Julia! You’re early, actually..want some snacks? Did you get the time wrong or something? No worries..I’m still getting set up though, sorry. Go make yourself feel at home, okay? No one else is going to arrive for another two hours or so.

Early? No, I wanted to arrive fashionably late. Julie grimaced at the sound of her name. It was much too normal for such a unique girl such as herself, she’d get around to changing it one day.

“The fuck did you invite me to this lame ass party for, huh?”

The words escaped from her thoughts to her mouth in a split second but before she could lie, she could only watch as the girl's smile erupted into a giggle.

“So it’s that bad, huh?” Not missing a beat, Jodie parroted her words with that same stupid grin on her face.

“I never see you hang out with anyone during school or Drama. What, are you too cool for us for something? Y’know, I’ve tried to talk to you but you always ignore me when on my own during class. I thought you didn’t like me or something so it might be better to approach as a group so it’s more comfortable for you. Am I that mean?”

Another giggle, the girl was now laughing at her own joke to fill the silence, pathetic.

“Well if we bore you so much, I’d be happy to introduce you to people you might have more in common with..I mean, I was surprised that you even agreed to coming here in the first place!”

A set-up, that’s what this was. So they were really only inviting her to humiliate her. For a second, a looming dread came to Julie, but then she realized. 

A traumatic, possibly violent event like this would go great in her memoir, unlike with all the other fabrications she had tried to make her life seem worse, this could be a real turning point in her life. She just had to play it cool, naive, and unassuming.

“Oh, is that it?” Julie replied after a moment of silence “I’d love to hang out with you guys. Sorry I’ve been acting weird about it, I’m just not used to people wanting to hang out with me.”

“Really? That’d be great!”

God, could that stupid fucking smile get any bigger? It was sad, seeing how desperate this girl was to get her to like her.

Jodie continued “It’s okay, I don’t think you’re weird for not knowing how to talk to people, I still have problems talking to strangers myself.”

Another annoying giggle, just shut up already. Shut up. You don’t know anything about me.

“I just want to be your friend.”

If Jodie wasn’t going to do anything horrible for the next hour, she was taking matters into her own hands.

So Julie walked right up to Jodie, and socked her right in the jaw. As she watched her fall to the ground, Julie silently congratulated herself on bringing supplies in her tote and started to get to work tying her hands behind her back and handcuffing her to the radiator in the living room.

Ropes, a knife, a rag, and handcuffs. The essentials. 

She’d planned on having someone use them against her when she’d be presumably kidnapped, tortured, and worse. It was too bad she’d have to use them on her instead. What a waste, oh well. At least Julie would get some media coverage when she went to jail for this. It was better than nothing.

She’d almost shoved the gag in the now bound and crying girl's mouth, but she decided against it and asked her to cancel the party. It was a simple request, or was she so idiotic she couldn’t even do one thing?

Pulling the phone out of Jodie’s pocket and unlocking it once she’d gotten the password, the girl had calmed herself enough to tell Julia what to text her friends.

“Hi! Sorry, I had to pick up an extra shift suddenly so no party for today. Maybe we can get together next weekend?” Perfect? No, but good enough. According to Jodie, she did have a part-time job as a cashier, and she was known for her hard work, or as Julie liked to call it, her annoying persistence.

Apparently it wasn’t uncommon for her to cancel out of the blue, she said that was why she had tried to plan out her parties in advance to spend as much time with her friends as she could before the weekend was over, her parents were often out of town due to their jobs so she had her parties on non-business days to spare them the headaches and cleanup. This was one of those days, and again, it wasn’t uncommon. Her friends wouldn’t bother her while she was working, she hoped.

Julie jerked the phone away from Jodie’s sight before stuffing the rag in her mouth and going to the bathroom to dump her phone in the toilet. Hopefully that’d be enough to jam it or whatever people did in movies.

Now for the interesting part. God, Julia was so glad she decided to take matters into her own hands and make this night something to remember.

She grabbed the knife from her bag, and knowing that her hostage couldn’t move, got to work sawing off her left leg after some effort. Jodie passed out from the pain soon after. Sadly, she pissed and shit herself several times too. 

It was messy and bloody and disgusting, but Julie didn’t need to clean it up.If she got away with it, then there would be no media coverage..she still had to be clever enough for there to be some mystery though. What would really set her apart from all the other murderers? How could she make this situation even worse?

She heard the grumbling of her own stomach and in that second, she knew.

Jodie had gazed longingly at the snacks on the table before she was unceremoniously dragged away by the ankle. She must be hungry by now. How long had it been since she last ate?

Another few hours passed and Julie helped herself to some chips and took a swig from her water as she watched Julie awaken.

The hunk of meat that was left of Jodie’s leg didn’t look appealing in the slightest but it was better than nothing, wasn’t it?

“You hungry?” Julie asked and shoved it toward her “Go on, I’m not going to bother to cook for you or get you anything better than what you deserve. Eat.”

Oh, this, this was perfect. Having a hostage eat their own leg to survive? That would get her in the history books for sure! Julie prided herself at her quick thinking.

Jodie looked in horror at the mass of her own flesh for a second and didn’t say anything. Of course, the gag and the rope and the handcuffs, of course the girl couldn’t eat. She should have taken that into consideration. What if she had last words? Julie figured she’d deal with that later.

Well, no matter! A horrible girl such as herself forcing her to eat it? Even better if they had no other choice.

After removing the gag and cutting her leg into bite-sized pieces with her knife, Julie shoved the soft, fleshy meat down her throat again and again, waiting for her to chew and swallow until every little bite was inside of her. Again, she was pleased at her idea, this was just perfect..Jodie was vomiting a lot now though, she’d just have to force it back inside her stomach.

What to do now, huh? Ugh, she was getting a little bored. This was going almost too well, the gag had muffled her screams and no one was expecting her until school, even Julie’s mother thought she was changing plans and staying for a sleepover. Boring, boring, boring..

What could she do to make this worse? How could she possibly make this worse?

Ooh, double suicide. Maybe they could be lovers, hiding it from everyone and pretending. She’d never been seen with Jodie though, whatever, she could just pretend that no one knew. Hopefully that’d be enough. Two lovers that could only truly be together in death, didn’t matter that Julie had two moms, didn’t matter that Julie was straight. She could make up some other excuse. It’d look good for her legacy at least, if she survived then she’d still have something interesting to write her memoir about.

She looked down at the pathetic, sobbing, mess in front of her. She gave a slight shrug at her hostage’s expression as if to say “At least you’re not dead, right?”

Julie tried to emulate the grin that Jodie had given to her what felt like years ago -Not that she was keeping track of course- before haphazardly stabbing Jodie a few times and hoping that’d be enough blood loss or whatever.

She was bored by this point and wanted it all to be over so she could move on and focus on the important things, like her future. She opened the nearest window and jumped, awaiting the sweet embrace of death to come the second she hit the ground.

Julie only felt the sharp pain of her body colliding with the dirt below.

Nothing else happened, that was it.

Put On A Show, Darling- Chapter 3

Pairing: Brian May, Fem!Reader

Word count: 3489

Warnings: Language, SLIGHT angst

Description: You and Brian have been best friends for over five years now, and you’ve loved him during most of that time. While you’ve been agonising over your hidden feelings, Brian’s gone and got himself a girlfriend. A serious one.

A/N: Hey everyone! I hope this chapter is a LITTLE bit better written than the first two. I just started college again and I’m finding it hard to find inspiration for this, but I really want to continue. I feel like I wanted more of a slow burn and I’m going to get through it too quickly, but this IS my first fic I've written. Bear with me! Please!

<><><>

   The weeks pass, and February melts away like the frost in the air, flowers blooming in between the cracks in the sidewalk, and the breeze carrying a certain warmth you desperately missed. Summer has arrived in full swing, the trees becoming green once again and the windows of your apartment open most hours of the day to let the sweet scent of blossoms float in. Life is everywhere, new beginnings and revitalised pasts.

  That includes Brian and Dani’s relationship.

  With every passing day the pair grew closer, with either the flat being just you and the crackling blues in the confines of its chipped walls, or filled with an extra occupant with a high pitched laugh and annoyingly good skin.

  You prefer the days alone, if you’re to be honest. At least then you have other things to do. You’re out at work anyway, only home in the evening time. Of course some nights feel eerily quiet, and painfully lonely. Those are the nights where you desperately miss the competitive scrabble games and copious cups of tea, the sound of his triumphant laugh whenever he’d come up with some ridiculous word that would have you digging out the dictionary.

  The last game you played, he had won with the word ‘anfractuous’.

  But on those nights, you tend to distract yourself in as many ways as possible. You’ve finished multiple books, baked quite a few trays of cookies and other pastries, and even knitted a bloody scarf. You can’t even wear that scarf anymore due to the temperature rising. So it sits in the wooden crate tucked away underneath the coffee table, along with the abandoned Scrabble box.

  Everyday felt even harder, and you made a conscious effort to put distance between you and Brian as he and Dani got closer. It wasn’t fair to anyone. Not to you, with the deepening cracks in your heart, not to Brian, who didn’t realise that he was hurting his best friend, and not to Dani, who obviously made Brian happy.

  You spent less time in the flat and more time reading in the library or in quaint cafes, anywhere that didn’t feel suffocating with memories of Brian, but you still couldn’t ignore the tight hollowness in your chest at the absence of your best friend. Unrequited lover or not, you still missed his presence. Someone you could rely on, someone you could always trust to be your voice of reason in the worst situations.

  And you miss your shared flat. You miss being able to spend so much time in that dusty old place, with all it’s cracked paint and leaking pipes. You miss the small nook in the kitchen next to the window where you always read as he tinkered away on his guitar. You miss the small houseplants that the both of you try desperately to keep alive, and just about manage.

  You wonder about those plants, though it’s such an insignificant thought. You wonder if he’s watered them. You haven’t been checking. Maybe they’ve wilted. God, please don’t let them have wilted.

  The rain was slashing against the windows of the grand old library, the sticky mid-summer humidity pasting the pages of old books together and emitting a musty smell that was almost overbearing. You’ve been waiting out the rain for nearly twenty minutes, though it showed no sign of stopping. All you want is a warm pan au chocolat from the small independent cafe across the street, and you want it without getting soaked through by the rain.

  But you really want that pan au chocolat, and that cafe bakes the best ones you’ve ever had, and maybe getting your hair wet and tangled will be worth it.

  So with a determined huff, you sling your bag over your shoulder and stomp out of that library like a girl on a mission, straight out of the revolving doors and into the heavy downpour. It’s even worse than it was before, coming down in thick sheets and instantly sticking your hair flat to your head as you run across the street. You let out a pathetic squeak as a crack of thunder sounds from above you, and you hurtle through the door of the cafe, capturing some dismayed stares. It doesn’t matter though, when the smell of baked goods greets you like a warm hug, and your stomach growls.

  You order your precious pan au chocolat and a cup of tea, before taking a seat next to the big store-front window.  You notice that the window is beginning to steam up slightly, and you draw a little smiley face in the condensation. The small gesture makes you smile to yourself, but it’s replaced with a small frown as Brian flashes through your mind. You wonder where he is, what he’s doing. Who he’s with. You shudder, trying to shake the thought from your reverie.

   A plate and a cup are placed before you, and you thank the young teenage girl as she shoots you a gentle smile. The flaky pastry is a welcome distraction, as is the low chatter of the people around you, and the faint clatter of mugs behind the counter.

  All feels normal for a few minutes. The flavour of sweet chocolate on your tongue, a book now held in between your fingers, but peace is always short lived.

  The door opens, a mist of rain carried in on the harsh wind as another customer enters the cafe, hood covering their face from the storm. They walk past you and to the register, mumbling their order. Their voice is familiar, a gentle and low tone that has you tensing up.

  The hood is pulled down, a wild mane of humidity-frizzed curls making your eyes widen. It’s the man you were hoping you could avoid for at least a little while longer, at least long enough for you to finish your bloody cup of tea.

  He turns his head in your direction, and you gasp quietly and lift your book in attempt to hide your face. You try your best to focus on the words on the weathered pages, but the book is held much too close for your eyes to focus, especially since you left your glasses back at the flat.

  You hear him mumble his thanks to the cashier, and you silently pray that he doesn’t see you, or at least spares you the embarrassment of approaching you. But your favourite dirty white trainers on your feet give you away, or maybe it’s the patches sewn onto your bag that you both collected together, and you screw your eyes shut as you hear his voice.

 “Y/N?”

 The book is lowered from your face slowly, and every feeling you’ve been trying to push from your thoughts comes rushing back like the rain outside.

  He looks almost ethereal, and the air is knocked from your lungs as your lips part slightly. He’s wearing a dark grey hoodie that manages to engulf his broad frame, the hood and shoulders splattered with raindrops. His pale brown eyes seem lighter, brightened by the cool rain that misted against his skin just moments before.

  “Hi…?” A sheepish smile adorns your lips, feeling caught red-handed.

  “You’ve been avoiding me.”

  He slumps into the leather armchair across from you, placing his bag down by his feet. His legs are much too long for the small table, so his shoes nudge against yours.

  “Have I?”

  His cup of coffee is set in front of him, and he flashes the same teenage girl from earlier a smile, to which she blushes and scurries off. You watch her back as she retreats, wishing that you could do the same. Brian turns back to face you, his smile fading into a disapproving frown. You squirm, picking up your cup of tea and sipping nervously.

  “Yes, Y/N, you have. Why?”

  “I haven’t been avoiding you…” You lie, picking at a loose thread on your jeans, “I’ve just been busy lately.”

  He sighs, picking up his coffee cup but not yet drinking it, just warming his hands.

  “I don’t believe you. You don’t have class, it’s summer. And you can’t be working 24/7, so what could possibly be making you so busy that you’re never home?”

  You know you’ve been caught, and you scan over his face in silence before looking down into your cup.

  When you don’t answer, he sighs through his nose and looks out of the window. A few beats of silence pass. The air between you feels awkward, thick. So many words haven’t been said, but you simply can’t bring yourself to voice them.

  “You’ve been acting strange for a few months now, I just want to know what’s been going on...if you’ve been okay.”

  His tone is gentle, laced with such genuine concern that you feel your heart swell momentarily. God, you miss him.

  “I...I’ve been-, I’m fine, Bri.” You’re not sure what to say. What could you say?

   It’s his turn to stay quiet now, hazel eyes analysing your every move, trying to pick up on any body language or expression that could give him a hint to why his best friend has been so distant.

  “It’s my family.” You blurt out another lie. The lying is coming much too easy at this point, but they tumble out one after another with no sign of stopping.

  “Or more so my dad.” You hate yourself for lying to him, and you hate that he’s believing you.  

  He is aware of your relationship with your dad being more on the dysfunctional side. He knows the way your dad treats you, and he’s been there to comfort you with a bowl of popcorn and cheesy rom-coms after your dad had said some particularly harsh things.

  You feel as though you are taking advantage of Brian’s kindness by lying to him about something so personal. You know he wouldn’t even imagine that you’d lie about something like this. Your stomach churns uncomfortably.

  “Oh Y/N,” He leans forward to rest his elbows on the table, a look of sympathy on his face, not pity. Brian never pitied you. It’s one of the things you love so much about him.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I guess I just wanted to handle things on my own.”

  That one wasn’t a lie, it’s just not referring to the situation with your father, but the situation regarding your feelings towards the man in front of you.

  He sighs, clasping his hands together and pressing them to his lips in thought. You’ve seen this look before, you can practically see the cogs turning in his head.

  “Let’s go for a walk.”

  Your eyebrows furrow at his diversion, “It’s raining.”

  “C’mon, a little rain never hurt anybody!”

  He stands up, holding his hand out for you to take, a wide smile overtaking his features. For a moment things feel normal, like it was just you and your best friend, and your smile grows to match his when you take his hand.  

  The rain is still coming down heavy, but you don’t care as you both run hand in hand down the street, bumping into pedestrians every now and then and giggling out “Sorry!”s along the way. The air is warm, sticky, but you’ve never felt more invigorated as wind blows in your face and whips at your hair. You both look at each other and laugh, real, bellowing laughs as you sprint down Southbank alongside the rushing Thames.

  “Where are we going?” You yell through your laughs, your trainers and jeans soaked through. You struggle to keep up with him due to the sheer length of his legs. He’s all long limbs, and damn can he move fast.

  “Anywhere!” He replies, eyes bright and wide.

  You run until your lungs begin to ache, but the adrenaline keeps you going as does his hand in yours, pulling you forward down the pavement. Much to your gratitude, he turns you both down the next street, slowing to a stop underneath the overhang of a dimly lit alleyway.

  You’re practically pressed against him in the narrow passage way, and you flush, panting to regulate your breathing. A smile remains on his lips, his chest heaving from exertion, puffs of air hitting your forehead as he gazes down at you. It’s quiet for a moment, only the sounds of cars whooshing through puddles and the distant city sound of perpetual sirens.

  But then he starts to laugh, beginning as a giggle as you look at him questioningly. Your perplexed face only sends him into fits of laughter, and you can’t help but join him.

  “What’s so funny?” You giggle.

  “You look like a wet rat.”

  You gasp in faux shock, pressing a hand to your heart and narrowing your eyes at him.

  “And you look like a drowned poodle!” You retort, and he shakes his head with a grin, some droplets of water dripping down the bridge of his nose and falling onto his lips.

  He reaches out to tuck the hair stuck to your forehead behind your ears, and your breath hitches. It’s a simple gesture, but you relish in the way he fingertips graze your cold cheek as he drops his hand back down to his side.

  “That was fun,” You clear your throat, breaking the tension, “but why are we here?”

  His smile falters momentarily, just long enough for you to notice, but he quickly plasters it back on, wider than before.

  “Wanted to cheer up my best mate.” He pokes your side and you flinch at the ticklish sensation.

  You hide your frown at the word ‘mate’.

  “Well, thank you.” You genuinely smile at him. He was too sweet for his own good, and you know he’d never intentionally hurt you like he has been.

  He shifts his weight to his other foot, knee nudging yours as he tries to get comfortable against the brick wall.

  “I also wanted to invite you somewhere, but I wanted to make sure you weren’t avoiding me first.”

  You nod as his cue to continue.

 “There’s a party at Fred and Rogers’ place tomorrow night, and it wouldn’t be the same without you there.”

  You part your lips to reply, but for some reason he’s nervous, cutting off your reply to ramble, “I know you’ve been a little bit down with your dad lately, but I really think you should come, have some fun.”

  “Brian I-”

  “Dani and Vee will be there too, and obviously the rest of the band, so you won’t be alone-”

  You frown at the mention of Dani,

  “I’d-”

  “I’ve just missed my best friend and need you to be there to-”

  “Brian!” You raise your voice, cutting off his rambling with a breathy laugh, your hands pressed against both of his cheeks to stop him.

  He looks down at you expectantly, eyes widened and glassy like a lost puppy, and you stroke your thumb over his skin, feeling light stubble.

  “I’ll be there, Bri. Wouldn’t miss it.”

 He lifts his hand up to cup yours on his cheek, and for a moment you feel lost. You aren’t sure if it’s in a good way or not, but you feel as though you’re one of those characters in Brian’s beloved sci-fi novels. Floating through space, lost.

  You awkwardly sniffle, pulling your hands away and playing it off as if you needed to scratch an itch on the tip of your nose.

  He turns his head to the side, clenching his jaw before turning back to you and smiling,

  “Good.”

  The pair of you walk home as the rain eases into a light drizzle, the orange toned street lamps flickering on and mist rising from the sidewalks. Everything shifts back to normal, as if you haven’t barely spoken for months and as if there isn’t a palpable tension between you two over a topic Brian is seemingly clueless to.

  “I’ve missed you, you know.” Brian admits after the conversation fizzles into a comfortable silence, the sounds of his shoes scuffing against the concrete. He holds his hands in his pockets, turning ever so slightly to glance at you.

  “I’ve missed you too, Bri.” You smile softly up at him, tightening your grip around the straps of your bag on you shoulder, “I’m sorry that I’ve been so...aloof.”

  He shakes his head, “Don’t be sorry, I understand...especially with your dad and everything,”

 Your stomach clenches as he continues, guilt nibbling away at your insides.

 “I just wish you would’ve told me. You know I’m always here for you, don’t you? Always.”

 You look down at your rain soaked feet, “I know you are.”

 He grins again, pointy canines poking out from beneath his lips, “Come on then. We both need to get changed before we catch our deaths.”

  The night continues as old friends picking up where you left off, the scrabble board now dusted off and in use once again. It feels good, so good to have Brian back, even if it’s only for one night, and even if you’re trying your best to imagine a world where he never met Dani.

  You won scrabble that night. Your winning word being ‘anguished’. Ironic, really.

  But as they say, all good things come to an end, and that rainy Thursday evening faded into yawns and fluttering eyelids, casting pale blue light through the window panes as the first birds of Friday sing their song.

  Things feel strange as you open your eyes, a sort of uneasy pressure settling on your chest and pressing down. It could only be described as dread, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on its cause. The flat is quiet sans the gentle hum of the boiler, signalling that Brian is still asleep. It must be early still.

  You lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling as you try to create patterns out of the water stains. Your mind is whirring, racing with too many thoughts, trying to decipher this sick feeling in the pit of your stomach and what it could possibly mean.

  It’s almost suffocating, allowing your thoughts to overtake you as you lay cocooned in a mountain of sheets, and the pressure on your chest only worsens.

  You need to get up.

 Your muscles ache as you sit up, and your bones click when you press your feet against the floor. Life is simply taking it out of you, stealing away your youth and crushing any energy you once had.

  06:13 am.

  The grogginess persists as you make your way into the kitchen and flick the kettle on, hoping that some caffeine will help to ease your discomfort. It’s still relatively dark out, the not yet fully risen sun aided by the overcast clouds that continue from yesterday’s rain. You don’t mind the darkness, if anything, it allows you to wallow in your low mood. Some would say that’s self destructive, but you find that if you allow yourself to really feel something, you can accept it and let it go.

   You yawn as you reach your hand into the cupboard to grab a cup, hand freezing on top of Brian’s favourite mug. You deliberate making him a cup, as you usually would, but your hand drifts over to your favourite mug instead. You don’t feel like you could face Brian just yet today. At least not until this uneasy feeling in your stomach subsides.

  Your cup is set down on the small nook table next to the window, a draft seeping through the cracks in the window pane and causing you to pull your hoodie closer to your body. Your head feels heavy, foggy, but the slow rise of the sun manages to distract you long enough to finish your cup of tea. The floorboards creak across the apartment, and you can hear Brian’s footsteps as he wakes up, the door opening soon after.

  You guess you’ve got no choice but to face him now.

  “Morning.” He mumbles, sleepily rubbing at his eyes. You hum in response, taking in his messy curls from sleep and his lazy smile. It falls quiet as he goes to make himself tea, neither of you talking as a moment passes.

  “We should do something today, before the party.” He breaks the silence, causing you to nearly jump out of your skin.

  You don’t respond, only raising your brows. He’s used to you acting as such in the morning though, as you often are too exhausted to speak at this hour.

  “Okay, let me rephrase,” he brews his tea, “we’re going to do something today. As in, I’ve already planned it, so you have to come.”

  “What are we doing?” You ask, voice scratchy.

  “You’ll see.” Brian grins, glancing out of the window to where the sun has risen and is warming up the pavements below, “Just bring a swimsuit.”

Thanksgiving at Galaxy’s Edge: A Fangirl Review

Like many a Star Wars fan, I’ve been curious to visit Disneyworld’s Galaxy’s Edge. I was selected to attend the Galaxy’s Edge panel at Star Wars Celebration Chicago and felt pretty hyped. Course, after the park’s opening, initially, I read and heard mixed things. However, after watching a steady stream of Youtube videos from a wide range of other visitors, I felt it would be a park I’d enjoy. I love Star Wars. I love Disney. I went to Disney on my honeymoon.

So, several months ago, I decided I wanted to take a babymoon trip there. It just so happened that the best time to get away coincided with Thanksgiving and my birthday. Which made it an extra special trip for me.

I assumed the park wouldn’t be too crowded prior to the Dec. 5thopening of Rise of the Resistance. Ideally, if I could have waited for the opening of Rise of the Resistance, I would have. However, as I am expecting, I couldn’t even go on Smuggler’s Run. Thankfully, BuildABetterMouseTrip has a list of what moms-to-be can and can’t ride. For me, the trip was more about enjoyment of it park itself: the scenery, the shopping, making the most of my photo pass and personal photography projects, and the food.

We had mid-day Magic tickets. Galaxy’s Edge didn’t feel too crowded when we first arrived, but by afternoon there were more people hanging out than I expected. We had been told by former Florida residences that Disney isn’t too busy on Thanksgiving or Black Friday, but from our experience, it was. If I had it to do over again, I would have bought a regular ticket and got up earlier. Perhaps, either the improvement of the economy and/or the rise of shopping Cyber Monday gives people more free time to likewise go to Disney on the holidays.

After having some great photos made in front on the park’s X-wing and Falcon (which I hope to use as before and after pregnancy photos when I’m someday able to visit with my child), our party headed directly for the Milk Stand.

My husband has a TON of allergies, so I researched a lot of food prior to our trip.

Blue Milk is non-dairy and plant-based, made with coconut and rice milk with dragon fruit, pineapple, lime, and watermelon.

Green Milk is also made with coconut and rice milk with mandarin orange, passion fruit, grapefruit, and orange blossom.

I thought I would like Green Milk better, because I normally like oranges. People seem very divided and/or loyal to one flavor. Once I got to the Milk Stand, I got sentimental and had to have Blue Milk. It turned out to be the right choice for me. In our party we had 3 Blue Milks and 2 Green Milks and, in our opinion, Blue Milk was better. I’m unsure if the milk is blended fresh every day and the flavor greatly depends on whom is mixing it OR if it’s on tap. At the time I didn’t think to ask.

After our milk adventure, our party divided into Smuggler’s Run attendees and those of us who wanted to shop. I believe the wait for Smuggler’s Run was about 90mins? I know we did a lot of chill, slow-paced shopping while we waited on the others. We immediately went to Savi’s Workshop, but unfortunately all the time shots were taken and we didn’t have a reservation. I, sadly, had read on various blogs that reservations for Savi’s Workshop and the Droid Depot were unnecessary. This is untrue. It kinda felt like the Savi’s Workshop bouncers were laughing at our lack of planning, but thankfully this was the only unprofessional experience we had that day with Galaxy Edge employees.

So, my husband ended up just buying Vader’s lightsaber from the Den of Antiquities. We get that Savi’s is part show and an experience, but I think we would have been fine just buying the parts with instructions and building a lightsaber more like the Droid Depot or on own our time at home. Come on, Luke Skywalker, and now, headcanon, I assume, Rey, didn’t have a fancy class to build her lightsaber. I think Galaxy’s Edge needs more lightsaber options.

Anyhow, somewhat defeated, we headed on to the Droid Depot, because I specifically wanted to build a purple BB unit for my baby. Her nickname, because we aren’t sharing her name even with family right now, is BB. The Droid Depot employees were very kind and friendly. Our unreserved wait was about 15mins. I guess my one criticism would be, for November, it was super hot in the Droid Depot. They need more fans.

Once purple BB was complete, we took our time at the other shops. At Kat Saka’s Kettle I had a Coke and blue-green classic popcorn. 

They also have red-purple popcorn but I was told it was more like sweet Fruit Pebbles. I bought these too cute Rey and Kylo Ren dolls at Toydairan Tomaker. 

I guess my favorite area was the First Order Cargo. 

I bought a Kylo Ren Supreme Leader pin and was thanked for my loyalty by the awesome in-character cashier. 

We saw Chewbacca and Rey, and the Stormtrooper duo make 3-4 rounds. We only saw Finn once on our way out. Kylo Ren from a far distance was drawing a big crowd.

Docking Bay 7 Food and Cargo was our Thanksgiving Meal. I feel like compared to Oga’s Cantina, I had no idea this place existed. 

My Roasted Endorian Chicken Salad was very good. If you like mild tiki masala, the taste was similar. My brother Revan/Devan also highly recommends Felucian Kefta and Hummus. He’s not vegan, but loved the taste of the plant-based meatballs.

The Batuu-bon was magical. My husband ordered it after he wasn’t content with his Fried Chicken Tip Yip. To be fair, he has a throat condition, so we’re used to him having to order multiple items and wait-and-see what he can actually enjoy eating. Pretty much, we would go back just to eat this bon. This bon needs more love.

In conclusion, it was a super fun trip. Worth it. 

We felt the park was well designed. Visually interesting. And, yes, for those who need to know, plenty of restrooms. Despite the crowd, I never had to wait in the dreaded ladies restroom line.

Like others have said, I hope in the future there’s more to do at the park. At this time, I could only shop and enjoy the decor. If you’re more into rides, I can see how it would be frustrating. Those in our party who went on Smuggler’s Run loved it. They came off the ride absolutely thrilled. However, they wished the ride had been a little longer for the amount of time they had to wait. Hopefully having two ride attractions, or more, will eventually cut the wait times in half?

Someday, I can also see the need for specific character meet and greet times within the Galaxy’s Edge area. I would hate it if my child wanted to see a certain character and missed out.

After seeing this opening ceremony for Rise of the Resistance, I personally wish there was a Star Wars stunt show at Galaxy’s Edge. They could make it ever bit as cool everyday as the Indiana Jones stunt show IMO. *fingers crossed*

taste ; lee minho ☆

━━☆

— summary: as many say, even the smallest things can create small clusters of happiness. what if that happiness comes from somewhere familiar? perhaps the local creamery you’ve grown too fond of?

— genre: fluff, a whole lot of fluff, ft. other skz members — pairings: ice-cream boy!minho x office worker!reader — word count: 2.6k — warnings: explicit language, cursing 

— author note: beware of spelling & grammar errors ! this was based on some random sub reddit so uhm– it doesn’t really have a theme ?? but i hope you enjoy my first **published** fic nonetheless bubs ! and of course, gender neutral !

You hate Mondays. The endless demands from your co-workers to grab some coffee, the hideous traffic anywhere you go, your boss shouting like a bewildered orangutan, and of course the ravenous feeling that washes in your stomach. You fear that you’re not going to make it by the time lunch break rolls in.

Obviously, this doesn’t only apply on Mondays. But the fateful day decided to be a special snowflake to you and your work ethic, which makes it ten times shittier than any other day. Not to mention the hefty piles of paperwork that you need to finish at home before August. A year into the work experience in Seo’s Publishing & Co. and you still struggle to get that promotion you’ve been opting since January. At least they pay you well.

But you weren’t alone on that exact Monday. Summer and it’s endless supplies of heat waves decided to enter your life before you even know it. As Han Jisung likes to say, what a great time to be alive. Not.

“It’s so fucking hot.” Felix limps on his desk chair, frantically fanning himself with a big blue binder. You, on the other hand, already prepared long before with two hand fans screeching atop your desk. “Why is the AC off?”

“Because Mr. Seo said ‘fuck global warming’, which is ironic since his office has two air conditioners that are always on,” Kim Seungmin says, plopping on his chair before turning on his brand new industrial fan that he keeps on bragging about since the beginning of July, claiming that he’s got the weather ‘under control’. Felix doesn’t respond at this rate, instead, he oggles weirdly at the fan Seungmin got from God-knows-where.

You groan miserably. “Turn that damn thing off, you’re perpetuating hot air onto my face.”

“I’ll do that. Once Jisung stops wasting all the cold air from the fridge.”

“I swear to God, Han. If you eat my frozen waffle once again.” Typical Felix who will always protect his food. That kid will protect his cream cheese bagel even if WWIII decided to occur.

Jisung frowns childishly. “It’s just too hot. I’m evaporating, literally.”

“Maybe it’s because I’m in the room.” Hwang Hyunjin merrily waltzes into the conversation, earning a few annoyed gazes and grouses from his co-workers.

“Choke on a baguette.” Seungmin grunts, throwing a crumpled printer paper at him. “Your presence isn’t needed here anymore, not after that promotion of yours.” Hyunjin smiles smugly, taking a sip from his ‘Best Uncle’ coffee cup. 

Yearly promotions have gotten a toll on you, ever since Hyunjin got his place as the assistants’ assistant, he’s been moved to the 3rd-floor cubicle; located right next to the main office, which – you’ve guessed it – is completed with a working air conditioner. Big headed Hyunjin has and will never stop mentioning it. ‘We’ll stay together till one of us gets fired’ my ass.

“You’re just jealous because I earned that cool cubicle on the 3rd floor. Unlike y’all peasants who rely on factory industry fans.” Hyunjin scoffs, emphasizing on the last sentence. Seungmin chokes on his coffee mug.

“You got a problem with Becky?”

“It has a name?” Jisung half-whispers at you, earning a shrug.

“Shut up, Hyunjin, just go back to your fancy little office and do your five stacks of paperwork that you haven’t touched since last week.” You quip, earning a high five from Felix. “Oh, and neither your niece nor nephew likes you, Hwang.”

Hyunjin gasps dramatically, hiding his graphic cup from your sight. “How DARE you.” Jisung cackles his ass off as if he’s enjoying some random Netflix show, watching Hyunjin as he takes an indignant sip from his cup whilst trying to explain that his niece just ‘mildly dislike him and nothing more’. You – being the only one with a sane state of mind – take a glance at the clock.

“Oh, shit. It’s already 12.” You murmur. “Anyone down to get out and grab lunch? I’m not talking to you, Hyunjin.” Felix goes in for another cheeky high five as Hyunjin flouts.

Seungmin pushes his glasses from the bridge of his nose, sighing. “Look, Y/N. As hungry as I am, I’m not going to burn into a crisp of bacon outside in this weather.” He retorts, continuing on his Pdf file. “Fun fact, it’s almost 34° Celcius outside. I’d rather starve to death than sweat to death.” Jisung sheepishly agrees, engulfing in the cold fridge air.

You turn to Felix sympathetically, expecting him to join you. “Can’t you see that I’m hyperventilating?” Felix whines like a wet dog, thudding his head repeatedly on his messy desk. You click your tongue at the pathetic sight.

“Okay, so no one’s gonna join me?” You ask for the last time. Rethinking again about getting burned in the midst of the July air. Was it worth it? Should you really drag one of your co-workers in the ungodly weather?

Silence.

You huff, disappointed lacing your features as a genius idea draws onto your mind. “Well, I’m heading to the creamery near the park. Don’t come at me trying to get a lick from my rocky-road cone.”

“Shit, ice cream sounds great right now!” Jisung squeaks from the floor.

“Please, Y/N, can you get me the mint chocolate one? I need something to cool me off.” Felix jolts from his seat seemingly refreshed and youthful again. Seungmin cheers from his desk, presumably also in the mood for something cold and creamy. Hyunjin screeches like a pterodactyl from the corner of your eye, screaming something about chocolate.

Your co-workers haven’t really grown up, have they?

“Suddenly I’m your servant? Nice try.” You reply playfully, raising an eyebrow at your half-melting co-workers. They all groan in unison. “Nothing is free. Everything comes with a pri–”

Jisung surges from his butt. “Tell you what, I’ll buy you dinner. Chinese at that place you always wanted to visit!” He offers, making the others try to think of a better deal than his. “Only if you get me the cheesecake ice cream.”

Seungmin follows up. “Y/N, if you get me a cup of cookies and cream, I’ll finish reviewing that book for you. Oh, and also a stack of your paperwork. What do you say?” Jisung boos at Seungmin’s boring choice of flavor.

“I’ll give you a foot massage!” Felix adds.

“Tempting.” You snicker smugly before turning to Hyunjin. “Aren’t you going to offer me something, Hwang? Anything?”

Hyunjin avoids eye contact with you before crooning. “Fine, I’ll give you a ride in my convertible for the rest of the month.” You mentally tap yourself in the back for getting great deals just for a bucket of cheap ice cream. Drastic time does require drastic measures, they say. You grab your bag and walk towards the elevator with a jolly good feeling.

“You all got yourself a deal. Better be ready for that foot massage, Lix.”

Dori Creamery. The sweet scent of vanilla and cream whiffs onto you as you walk near the entrance. You spent almost all of your college days being a customer in the said creamery. The place is medium sized, petite but fancy. The light neapolitan colors being the aesthetic of the shop brings back all the memories. You recall the seconds when you had your first date, celebrating your graduation with a cup of mango-sorbet, and your heartbreak spent accompanied by a tube of berry delight.

You liked the place. No, you loved the place. Hints of nostalgia always hit you whenever you enter the calming aura of the room, only this time, the creamery is packed with people. And not just any people; sweaty, loud, body-odor inducing people.

You managed to squeeze in the back of the line, avoiding the nasty body-sweat that lingers around. You can also go to another shop, but hey, where’s the fun in that? If you can’t even get some ice cream, what’s even the point?

“Excuse me, coming through.” You mumble as some guy nearly bumps you out of the line. The whiff of wind in the room is prominent, but the body heat everyone seems to be sharing nearly evaporates you apart.

You opted on scrolling through your phone while you wait for the person at the very front to make up their mind about ‘I’m on a low sugar diet but I really want to try the strawberry shortcake, should I?’. After a while, the line started to dry out, until there’s only you and a few others before you.

Everything was fine and dandy until you feel a force coming from beside you, nearly shoving you down to the floor. “Hey, what the hell?” You scold. A woman suddenly stands in front of you, cutting your precious time and line.

“I’m in a hurry.” She claims, whipping her head to decide on her order.

If you’re in a hurry why the fuck did you stop for ice cream?  A rasp of vexation coils in you, leaving you to do nothing but scowl at the woman. The heat isn’t helping either. A part of you wanted to flip everything off – including the woman – but you remind yourself that you’re no cavemen and it’s just some ice cream, it’s no big deal.

You couldn’t do much but sigh and wait for your turn, hoping that no one else would do something as ignorant as she did. Not even a single sorry? Great, just what you needed.

The woman finally decided on a pistachio order and storms off with a receipt in one hand and a double-scoop cone on the other. You irkly glance before walking towards the counter, repeating the order in your head.

“Uh, hi. I would like a cone of–”

“Rocky road with whipped cream?”

“Yeah, that. And– wait, how did you know?” You eyed the cashier, who’s smiling meekly at you. Nearly staring in awe, you almost forget about the whole order after meeting the enthralling smile painted on his face. “Do I… know you?”

He chuckles lightly, handing his co-worker a slip of paper. “No, it’s just that you always order that. Don’t you ever get bored of it?”

“It’s too good to be bored with.” You say, beaming idly. Finally, a nice–decent human being with good manners. “So, you’re not new here?” You mention, raising an eyebrow. The boy beams, reminding you of the Cheshire Cat – mere charisma laced in his smile. 

He shakes his head, denying your question. “Actually, I own this place.”

Your eyes widen. “Really? How come I’ve never seen you before?”

“You ask a lot of questions.” The boy teases. “I mostly work at the kitchen, perfecting my secret recipe. But I always know my customers.” He playfully answers. “Oh, and if you don’t mind, I added your order to that woman’s receipt. Can you imagine cutting a line just for a cone of caramel and pistachio?” Your eyes widen. Not so sweet after all, huh?

“Wh– isn’t that illegal or some shit?” You ask, worrying that your favorite ice cream parlor will shut down because of the FBI finding out about your stupid cone of rocky road. The boy shrugs innocently.

“Not if you don’t get caught.” He winks.

You scoff, an unfamiliar feeling clusters in your stomach, just like the thrill of first crushes but with a different – slightly bizzare taste. “I’m still ordering something else, though. Tell me, is the rocky road free?” You ask, still unsure of what just happened. Free ice cream isn’t something you get every day, come to think of it. He pretends to think for a while before nodding.

“But,” He says. “You have to do me a favor in return.” You raise your eyebrow, preparing yourself for any stupid favor he has in mind. The blossoming feelings doesn’t stop pounding in you, and suddenly it’s middle school all over again. “How about your number? That seems fair, yeah?” He smiles coyly. You snort.

“Sir, am I hearing things wrong or are you flirting with me?”

“Well, do you want your precious rocky road cone or not?” He playfully sniggers at you. You cognitively slap yourself back alive, lured in by his small tricks. You had no choice, do you? Hey, at least the boy’s cute.

You grab a piece of tissue from the counter without answering. “Do you have a pen?” Handing you a pen, he rests his head on top of his palm, watching you write down your number carefully – trying not to rip the tissue or create a hole. He smirks in satisfaction, watching you as your face washes in a flustered demand. “What’s your name?”

“Minho. Lee Minho.”

“As in the actor? Wow, I’ve never thought he’ll be selling ice cream downtown.”

“I wish.” You giggle at his response, handing him the nearly ripped tissue paper. 

“I’m Y/N, by the way.” You say, awkwardly rubbing the back of your neck. Minho slides the paper on his pocket, handing you a cone of rocky road with whipped cream and sliced strawberries on top as an extra dressing. “Thanks, I’m also ordering two medium buckets of cookies and cream with chocolate and mint-choco with blueberry cheesecake. No toppings, please.” You finally excecute the order after countless unsuccessful rehearsals in your head.

Minho writes down the order before sliding the paper towards his co-worker who seems to be wiggling his eyebrows from your view. “Wow, that’s a lot to eat in one sitting. No toppings?” You shake your head again.

“It’s for my co-workers. Oh, and spit on the chocolate one, if you may.”

“Kinky, but it’s not something I’ve never tried before,”

“I’m just kidding, geez.” You huff, trying to hide the bubbling smile as you wonder, trying to imagine what happened to occur that precise course of action.

“You work at the publishing company now, huh?” He asks, pointing at your nametag as he passes your two buckets of ice cream. You nod enthusiastically. “I remember you coming here late at night in your pajamas doing calculus while shoving cookie dough up to your face. Good times.”

A coral blush crept from your cheeks. “Okay, now you just sound creepy.”

“Well,” He says, his face panning closer to you as you flinch back in surprise. “I’d like to stay and chat, Y/N. But you’re holding the line.” Minho reminds you, cocking his head towards the line. “Let’s continue some other day, yeah?”

You glance at the clock and then at the line behind you. “Oh shit, you’re right.” Clicking your tongue, you mention silently. Disappointed that you have to go back to your crusty co-workers, who’s probably whining over the fact that you’re still not back yet. “How much for the two tubes?”

“Twenty five.” He answers watching you run swiftly through your wallet. “But if you’re willing to go to dinner with me next Saturday, it’s free.” Minho says. Your heart does a cartwheel as you stare into the boy, wiggling his eyebrows at you. What more can you ask from a good looking guy like him? Cheeky bastard.

“How can I say no to that?” The coral blush that tinges on your cheeks fades into a deep red. “To be honest, I’m baffled. You sure know a lot about me, but I don’t know much about you, Minho.”

He hums. “Let’s fix that, shall we?”

“You got yourself a date, Mister. Now if you’ll excuse me, someone at the office owes me a foot massage.” Minho winks one last time before you leave the ice cream parlor.

With heart in your hand and ice cream in the other, you walk out the creamery with a delighted feeling. Maybe, just maybe, you’ll melt away like ice cream in scorching hot weather if you think about the ice cream boy too much.

the beginning of a thing

This is the beginning of a thing. It is also published here >>>>> https://www.wattpad.com/myworks/178504141/write/705655879

enjoy :)  Who am I? Your guess is as good as mine, really.Am I simply the young hardware store cashier with blue hair and long roots who sometimes wears bright red lipstick (which, by French fashion standards, is more of a warm red than a cool tone red and doesn’t match my skin tone)? Maybe I’m not all that complex; it’s possible that my life really isn’t much more intricate than what customers see when I scan the barcodes on their oak two-by-fours in their carts and take their dirty coupons in my thin white hand with a smile. For the most part, I don’t speak to my coworkers unless spoken to, and as far as customers go, I am on autopilot: “Hello, you find everything okay?” If the customer only sets one or two items on my counter (usually a soap-box-sized carton of screws or some small random piece of plumbing piping): “Would you like a bag for that?” (It makes me happy when they say no; plastic bags are horrible for the environment.) The customers usually insert their cards into the card reader on my counter and then stare at me in their idle, waiting for me to perform some magical cashier trick on the computer, unaware until I peep up and tell them so that the card reader machine is waiting on them to push a button or enter a credit pin number. Maybe I’m just as dull and reticent when I go home after nine hours of, “Hello, you find everything okay? Would you like a bag for that? It’s gonna have you select debit or credit--here’s your receipt, and here is a coupon for five dollars off a purchase of twenty-five or more,” as I am when I take my lunch breaks alone in the quiet of the training room, reading some overdue library book and pinching small bite-sized pieces off of a gas station brownie to nibble at instead of taking direct bites out of the suspiciously oily pastry.Maybe I’m actually the notions inside my head. Maybe I am just a tool that they use to be heard and make their dreams a reality; maybe I’m not my body or job. Maybe I am a successful, peaceful, light-hearted artist and author--I just haven’t published my novels or hosted any successful art shows yet. Or any art shows, for that matter.Perhaps I’m my mother’s daughter; stubborn and crazy, with an invariably rotten attitude and enough financial issues for myself and all of my fellow cashiers to build a boat out of and sail away from civilization and debt.Maybe I’m always so quiet because I’m holding my tongue, like my mother, and thinking about slashing tires and throwing ceramic dishes at skulls and sinking screwdrivers into flesh, all in the name or petty revenge or an intense burst of anger. Except, come to think of it, my mother doesn’t actually ever hold her tongue, so I suppose I might just be quiet for reasons entirely my own.Maybe I’m just like my mother’s mother, like my mother is so committed to convincing me I am, except fifty years younger; nasally voice, although mine is less whiny and severe; sitting in front of a computer for hours a day, except she uses the computer her husband bought for her to do lazy transcription work so she can have money for cigarettes, the only thing in life her husband won’t buy for her, and I saved up my paychecks in high school to buy my laptop so that I could leave Mudcap High School and graduate early through online classes; we both sleep a lot, and, as my mother said when I was in high school, I “spent a lot of time on my ass” just like Grammy does--although my time in bed was always induced by an inability to find the motivation to get up, and Grammy’s bedridden state came from staying up too late playing online solitaire. Maybe I’m just that girl from Mudcap High School whose hair displayed a new fresh (done at home) short cut and color of the rainbow at the beginning and end of every month whose clothes all came from Salvation Army and whose stomach was always making obnoxious attention-seeking noises in Spanish--wait, you thought all that time that I was a boy? Well, yeah, I guess that’s reasonable. I wore a lot of huge baggy sweaters.Maybe you just know me because you know somebody who knew me. In that case, maybe I only exist in your world and consciousness as the girl who broke Jo-Ellan’s heart, or the girl who tried to look like a boy but then dropped out and grew boobs and is now hot (in the online pictures, at least). Maybe your friend has a friend who knew my twin brother, and so you heard from your friend’s friend who knows my twin brother that my twin brother’s friend saw me on a dating app, and my brother told him, “Don’t worry dude, she doesn’t like dudes. She’s just looking for a sugar daddy.” And so my twin brother, whom we will call “Z”, laughed about it with his friend once the shocking sighting of Z’s twin sister on a dating app had passed, and all was well, but now people know that Z’s twin sister is a sugar baby and not as quiet and sweet as she seems.Maybe you heard about me from Dan or Katherine; maybe you hope to meet me someday, because I sound like a very sweet person and you like the artwork of mine which they showed you. Maybe you heard about me from Tyler, the guy I made sandwiches with when I worked at Subway in high school--in which case you probably believe him when he says that I did drugs in the back room of the restaurant. Maybe you don’t even know my name--maybe you know me because you’ve seen the art I post online. Maybe you feel very connected to me, and feel pleased to see me when you see that I’ve posted a picture of a sketchbook page I’ve completed. Maybe You don’t know my name at all, but the way I layer paint and colored pencils and vary the thickness of my lineart is enough. Maybe the portraits and paintings I share are enough for you to care about me.Maybe you’re one of Sage’s friends. Maybe you hung out with us the October night when it was warm and I was seventeen and he was eighteen and he put acid under my tongue with his goofy smile and then left my house because he was high and felt like God and my bathroom-sized bedroom was like a birdcage for him at that moment in time. Maybe you were there when he skateboarded from my house to Sebastian’s with more acid and weed in his backpack and the intention to share. Maybe you’re one of the three other guys who were at Sebastian’s house, already under the magical intoxication of Sage’s acid when he called a cab to pick me up from my house and bring me there to drink canned beer and smoke mediocre blunts until the sun came up and I noticed how swollen my lips felt, because acid always makes my lips feel all swollen and purple. So maybe you know me as Sage’s girlfriend who he didn’t call his girlfriend until I finally dumped him months later and he begged for me to stay and apologized for never giving me attention or being a good boyfriend. And that was the first time he had called himself my boyfriend.I don’t want to think about nights like those anymore. The boy I’m dating now regards LSD with as much hissing ostracism as if it were all cocaine sold from the alley behind a gas station dumpster. Just thinking about that night makes me feel high, though--my anemia leads me to shiver even in sixty-degree weather, which Midwesterners consider quite warm, but I didn’t mind the wind blowing through my maroon flannel and thin anemic skin that night. As I sat on the cold chipped concrete steps in front of my house waiting for the cab Sage had called for me, the cold was refreshing and good-hearted instead of a brittle cruel punishment from Mother Nature. I didn’t feel insecure about my dingy old black high top Converse; my high-waisted jeans and black T-shirt didn’t make me feel like I looked like a twelve-year-old boy; and the dead-ends in my chin-length purple hair were not worth my concern. The sky all up above and around me and the globe, hugging the horizon of the sleepy little dangerous city, cradling the most dangerous place in all of Indiana in its arm like a tired baby, was stark black, and I could basically smell it; it was a nice undiluted solid black, and there was no pollution hiding the stars. The stars had had a grand day, and were ready to make sure that I was going to have a grand night.The neighbors on all sides of our house were drug dealers, and those were just the neighbors we actually talked to and knew anything about. The National Guard Armory to the right of my mother’s house, right across the narrow one-way street, was comical considering the neighborhood it was in. But none of that mattered; for once I didn’t hate it all. The sky was a rich fragrant black, thick enough to choke you if it had such bad intentions; but its intention were only good. The black was the many yards of high-quality fabric of a fine lady’s skirt flowing endlessly down from a well-tailored strapless bodice with a lovely fit and comely sweetheart neckline. The stars were bright and small enough to be all the jewels and shiny beads which her personal tailor had surely spent weeks or months or even a lifetime hand stitching onto the top layer of her many layers of skirts.It was such a good night to wait outside for a cab.I will never have nights like that again; life is constantly changing. I can try to recreate that, but I will never get it right. Recreating such good things is a privilege entirely out of my pale mortal hands.Maybe you know me as the girl who drew really nice insects at Emmons Elementary when we were nine years old who has since moved to and from at least three public schools in the next city over, and then left public schools entirely right smack in the middle of junior year. Maybe that’s how you know me.You could know me as Andy. If you still know me as Andy, you probably either haven’t spoken to me since sophomore or freshman year, or you knew me in eighth grade when “Andy” was still a thing, and calling me by my real name now just wouldn’t feel right after all that time. I told people to stop calling me Andy junior year, and people obeyed--well, really I just stopped talking to anybody, so nobody called me anything. But the man I am dating now called me my real name yesterday, and it just sounded strange. He never knew me when I was Andy, and Andy only lasted a few years, and I don’t introduce myself as Andy anymore. I don’t care to be called Andy anymore. Yet it feels so strange, hearing somebody casually call me by my real name. Not knowing that I ever had another name. I don’t think I’ve really spoken to people since high school, so that was one of the first times I’ve heard somebody say it. My mother doesn’t even use my name--she’s never really called me my name, or anything nice.I’m rambling. My name just sounds weird. I don’t like it when boys say it passionately.There are so many people that I may be--I can’t even begin to guess which one you may know me as. Even if I were to know exactly what experiences we’ve had together or who told you about me, maybe you don’t even see me as what we’ve done together or what you’ve heard--maybe your own personal thoughts and emotions warped what you know about me. Maybe for the better, probably for the worse. Maybe jealousy came into play somewhere along the road, and no matter what good things you’ve heard, you refuse to accept that somebody who dated somebody who you wanted to date can be genuinely kind and good. Maybe you don’t even remember anymore why you don’t like me. You just don’t.Maybe you’ve loved me since freshman year, before you even knew my name, before you cut your hair short and before I grew mine out, so no bad things you hear about me sound right or can scathe your love. Maybe you don’t want to know me. Maybe you wish you did. Maybe you’re thinking about checking the back cover of this book and scavaging the pages of tiny nonsense text that comes before the first chapter and prologue just so that you can find some email or way to contact me because you think I sound interesting.However you see me now, though, that will change. The way I see myself changes at least three times per hour.

Me and You. (Twelfth Doctor x Reader)

This is my first explicit songfic, meaning it actually involves the song. Well, mostly. I had the idea while driving home this morning, and Twelve is currently the rabbit hole I’ve fallen into. Often I’ll be listening to the playlist I’ve put together for the Doctor, and I crave to write more songfics. Please let me know if you enjoyed this, if I did this right. I’m still extremely new to this.

The numbers 1-5 are different scenarios, I’ve read a lot of stories in this format and absolutely loved them, and will probably have more like this in the future. I’m better with many shorter stories. 

I swear there’ll be others, I actually have a Ten fic in the works right now. 

This was also written in maybe two sittings, so I do apologize if it’s inconsistent or not as well written. I’ll be back to edit it a few more times, I’m sure. 

Until next fic,

- Ashley

Song: Me and You by Jake Bugg

Word Count: 2697

All the time people follow us where we go We both should believe the path that we chose And I'll hold you with such delicacy No they won't catch you and me

 1.

He’d found her outside a strip mall, smoking. She was bleak, bleary, obviously having been beaten down by life thus far as she slouched against a metallic picnic table. The circles beneath her eyes were so dark they could’ve easily been mistaken for bruises.

“Did you know smoking is terrible for you?”

And suddenly he was there.

“Did you know I don’t give a shit?”

“Language! Good god, everyone here is so vulgar.”

“Well, you’re not wrong there. Apologies, then, it’s just been one of those days.”

“Looks more like one of those weeks in your case.”

A light glare was sent his way before she took another drag. Dropping it, she shrugged and scrambled on the table for it.

“You’re not wrong there, either.”

“What if I said I could take you away from all this and have you back in time for your shift?”

(E/C) irises swimming with uncertainty snapped in his direction, dropping her cigarette again, this time onto the pavement, in shock. She looked terribly unsure of him, and he couldn’t blame her. Here he was, a complete stranger, asking an exhausted looking young woman if she’d like him to take her away. “I’d say you’re mad. Unless you have some sort of funny time machine.”

“Don’t believe me, eh? Keep that thought in mind. Come with me.”

“Ah, that’s not suspicious now, is it? Older man coercing a young, vulnerable woman to follow him somewhere?”

He’d already leapt up and over the bench they’d been sitting on, striding off down the sidewalk.

“What’s your name anyway?” The cashier called.

“The Doctor. Coming?”

Rolling her eyes, she huffed in annoyance. Nevertheless, she followed him with a small smile on her face that managed to light up the rest of it. The confidence in his walk was a bit exaggerated, though she seemed to be so ecstatic that she didn’t seem to notice or care. A familiar blue police box came into view, and he approached it, tapping it with a certain fondness. Confusion spread over her worn down face.

“Now this really is concerning, I believe I should’ve been more careful from the start.”

“Oh calm down, don’t get your knickers in a twist. Have a look.”

Skeptically, she stepped forward, pushing the door open reluctantly. Moving inside, he heard a loud cry of shock, something along the lines of it being “bigger on the inside”. The Doctor chuckled to himself.

“Hasn’t gotten old yet.”

 It's all over all of the time And if you want to I won't mind Please don't leave it I don't know what to do No they won't catch me and you

 2.

Here they were, on a busy street on the edge of London. (Y/N) sat behind the wheel of her ancient canary-colored car, chewing her lip in anticipation. The Doctor sat adjacent to her, leaned back casually. His foot tapped impatiently, position slightly shifting every few seconds. Tension was thick in the dusty air.

“Well?”

“I said I thought I could drive. Don’t actually know if I can. Haven’t had much of a chance to.”

“Anyone can drive, it’s elementary. You’re just not.”

A glare was shot in his direction, causing him to snort. It was a mirror image of his, contorting her lovely face. He grinned knowing that he’d grown on her as much as she’d grown on him. Stuck to him, he’d often tell himself, knowing it was absolute rubbish.

“Come on, you can do it. If a moron can do it, so can you.”

A small fist flew across the front seat, shoving him playfully.

“Shut it, Doctor. I’m trying to drive now, and it could be detrimental to both of us if I’m irritated.”

The Doctor chuckled, watching her aggravated face behind his dark glasses. A small smile attempted to break her glowering countenance. At last it was triumphant, a shy, cheeky expression that he’d only seen directed at him. Gentle dustings of pink swept across her cheeks.

“Let’s go.”

Speeding along after some difficulty merging into traffic, they were silent. The Doctor had yelled at her and the other driver simultaneously. Refusing to argue and attempt to remain at a reasonable speed concurrently, (Y/N)’s face burned. All she could do is grumble beneath her breath and continue on until they were far out of the city, bumbling along the countryside in her yellow car.

“You know,” he began, voice softer than before. An attempt to wordlessly apologize for his previous action. “I once had a car of my own, quite a bit like this one, too. Same color, not as junky. I took great pride in it.”

(Y/N) laughed loudly, apparently thinking it a joke. Feeling quite indignant, he puffed up a bit at her chortles. “I did! Years and years ago when I wore a different face.”

“I’m sure you could actually drive it, hm?”

“You’d be surprised at the many things I can do, (Y/N). Driving happens to be one of them.”

“How about smiling more?”

At this he gave her the most obnoxious leer he could muster, emitting a loud, obviously fake, snicker. Once again she giggled uncontrollably at his antics, and he found himself easing into a comfortable titter. Then they grew still again, though it was a comfortable quiet. Looking over to his companion, her concentrated and radiant disposition filling the automobile, the Doctor found a sense of pride filling him at the human he’d stumbled upon.

 There are too many flashes and guards around me There is so little time and places to see And we can wait so patiently No, they won't catch you and me

 3.

Throughout every danger they’d faced together so far, the Doctor had never hesitated when he placed himself between it and his companion. Devotion made itself apparent not only in times of crisis, but moreso in the calmer moments, in the TARDIS. Anytime she’d needed help, even if it were reaching a shelf she’d have to scale in attempt to find whatever she was after. In moments of silence, when both were on opposite sides of the ship, he’d seek her out.

For months he fought it, refusing to go to her as often as he could. Why allow himself this? He’d been well-behaved, keeping his cool. Resisting would be a better word to describe his approach to his current feelings.

Feelings that had begun to extend, budding from their companionship in sarcasm and loneliness to something more... romantic, to his complete and utter trepidation. In those moments in the TARDIS, when there was something more in her eyes, something warm and inviting, his self-control was put to the ultimate test.

Seeing that silent plea, combined with the comforting heat of her room and the conflict in his hearts, caused him to shut himself off again. To push all of those vulnerabilities back into that metaphorical locked room he’d set aside with the label ‘too dangerous’. Too good, he often thought. Too whole for a broken man like him.

Whisking her across the galaxy to see things most humans wouldn’t ever be able to dream of brought him close to the breaking point every time. The astonishment across her soft features, the curiosity in her eyes, the mischievous curve of her lips. Knowing the unfiltered joy and wonder that filled her heart and mind was almost too much for him to bear. But it was worth it every time, anything was worth even a glance in his direction.

The Doctor felt like a lost dog, clinging to her and anything she was willing to give him emotionally. Any of her stories, recollections of her life before him, even the most mundane little quips, left him hanging on every word. Absorbing all of her voiced thoughts, debating with her, even flat out arguing with her, brought him closer. And it seemed to draw her closer, because the next time there would be more, even if an adjective or verb more, she’d oblige him.

He would wait. The Doctor could and would and probably had waited hundreds of lifetimes for something like he’d found in (Y/N). Different and similar to connections he’s made before, but unique all to herself.

 It's all over all of the time And if you want to I won't mind Please don't leave it I don't know what to do No they won't catch me and you

 4.

Often he’d catch (Y/N) eyeing him not-so-discreetly as she propped herself up in various odd positions on whatever she could fit on. Not that he minded, not at all. As long as they’d been traveling together now, it felt like part of their daily routine. Dancing around each other and their affections in some kind of clumsy ballet, too afraid to step independently but too brave to stray far from what they’ve learned.

The Doctor knew in his hearts of hearts that he’d never initiate. Never would he overstep that line, the invisible boundary that had been drawn around their relationship. He, who would go headfirst into unknown territory without a second thought, was terrified. Completely and utterly terrified at the potential mistake he could make. Another mistake in his existence that he wasn’t sure if he was willing to make.

So when their brief touches began to last more than a few seconds, when their eyes would meet and lock instead of darting away, he found peace in an internal resolution. He would lay in wait, wait until it was too much for her. She was so wonderfully human, trying to follow her mind but being driven by her passionate, whimsical heart. Any feelings she had towards him would emerge sooner or later, and if she chose to act on them.... he wouldn’t mind. Not at all.

Until then, their hands would intertwine, hugs would become less uncomfortable on his part, and faces would draw nearer for longer before they turn away. As long as he was near her, he wouldn’t quite mind the wait.

 All of these people want us to fail I won't let that happen no Just you believe me I'll hide you discreetly Discreetly from this cold world

 5.

Earth had been a cruel and unforgiving place for his young companion in her life prior to their meeting. Once he’d found her in tears, reflecting over a picture she’d dropped, (Y/N) poured out her heartaches on him. Before they’d met he would’ve run far when arms extended towards him, but now he hesitantly scooped her to him, trying to comfort her in any way.

The jobs she’d had barely made ends meet. When they met that day, almost an entire year ago, she’d been on her lunch break without anything to eat in sight. Sunken eyes had only reflected dull pain back at him. Only a smoke and a conversation, him sensing her desire to actually live and offering an out. He’d proved her wrong, and she hadn’t ever expressed the desire to go back. Not that he could blame her.

Unable to explain what troubled her, she left him with something he understood too well.

“I’ve done too many things, haven’t tried enough or tried too hard. And sometimes it smacks me right in the face.”

As she leaned into him, tears slowly beginning to dry, the Doctor felt his own pain. He’d spent centuries working through indescribable horrors of his own, still taking time even now to attempt to process them. Shadows of friends and foes crept behind him, always waiting. It was torture, almost, to know that this dependable, wonderful person he’d come to know was treated so terribly in her life before that she’d been willing to try any way to escape at the drop of a cigarette butt.

(Y/N) moved back to study his face. Watching with equal scrutiny, the Doctor observed her puffy (E/C) eyes, trembling (S/C) chin, and pouty chapped lips. That dreaded feeling blossomed in his chest at the misty abundance of affection in her features, even as her own emotional ailments afflicted her. During her own personal calamity, she still found ways to put him at ease with a silent affirmation of how much faith she had in him. That somehow he’d make things right, even if for a little while.

Even as she was completely blue, that terrifyingly airy feeling knocked the wind out of him. Realization poured through, filling any cracks of doubt that had previously served as an intentional protective barrier. It was true, true and real and paralyzing. Quickly he brought her back against his chest.

“Whatever you’ve done before doesn’t matter, it is what you choose to do now that does. And whatever you do, you will have a friend at your back. I swear it.”

Weak arms slithered around his waist, feeling her head caress his chest.

“Thank you, Doctor. For everything.”

Slowly he released her, and she stepped back and attempted to clean her face a bit. Feeling out of place, unsure of what to do, the Doctor remained where he stood until she initiated anything. Sentimentality was obviously not this body’s strong suit, though he wished to give more.

Her hand taking his own seemed to draw him from the recesses of his inner dialogue. A sweet smile was sent his way, brightening her rosy face. Making a mental note of how she looked at that particular time, he almost forgot what he intended to say. The Doctor sighed deeply, not entirely partial to the rush of solicitude through his veins that came with it. An easygoing smile finally planted itself on his thin mouth.

“Whatever it is, (Y/N), be it external or internal, I’ll support you to the best of my abilities. You have my word.”

Before he could properly appreciate the moment they were having, she was back. Swinging back into her heels, bouncing up on her toes, she hummed. Girlish excitement restored, determination to take on the universe and more.

“How about we find some adventure, eh?”

Returning to the noise, prepared to put their problems away for another day. The Doctor laughed at her spirit, glad to know she was bouncing back. Part of him knew she understood, at least somewhat, that he was trying his best.

“You’ve got moxie, I’ll give you that.”

“If we don’t start moving, I’ll give you a swift kick in the—“

Raising an owlish brow at her, she laughed out loud.

“C’mon Doctor, let’s go.”

“Alright, pottymouth.”

(Y/N) exited her room, the Doctor examining her as she left. Stretching his arms up and out, he rested his hands on the back of his head and exhaled loudly.

“What am I going to do with you, you peculiar girl?”

Following at his own pace, he trudged down the hall. The console room was a bit brighter; his companion was waiting patiently for him, plopped in yet another uncomfortable-looking position one set of steps. He approached her, standing near the command center, pressing buttons and pulling levers. “Where to?”

In her eyes he saw the entirety of the universe and its marvels, entirely awestruck by the impish expression she’d donned. Knowing the hunger for travel, for exploration, for knowledge, that she’d found within herself all too well, he was prepared to take her wherever her heart desired. To show her whatever would make her smile. The Doctor was completely at her mercy, on his knees to bring her joy.

“Anywhere.”

The TARDIS was off, rumbling and whirring like she always did. (Y/N) laughed out loud, watching the core with her refreshed fascination, burning brighter than the sun itself. The Doctor chuckled along with her, finding the answer to his self-imposed question that he had known all along.

“Everything.”

 It's all over all of the time And if you want to, I won't mind Please don't leave it I don't know what to do No they won't catch me and you No they won't catch me and you No they won't catch me and you

The Beginning of Something

OOps, I accidentally put this on the wrong blog. lmao follow shyshysmind for my writing, i’m gonna repost this oops This is the first chapter of..... something. It is also published here > https://www.wattpad.com/705655879-lavender-whomever

Who am I? Your guess is as good as mine, really.

Am I simply the young hardware store cashier with blue hair and long roots who sometimes wears bright red lipstick (which, by French fashion standards, is more of a warm red than a cool tone red and doesn’t match my skin tone)? Maybe I’m not all that complex; it’s possible that my life really isn’t much more intricate than what customers see when I scan the barcodes on their oak two-by-fours in their carts and take their dirty coupons in my thin white hand with a smile. For the most part, I don’t speak to my coworkers unless spoken to, and as far as customers go, I am on autopilot: “Hello, you find everything okay?” If the customer only sets one or two items on my counter (usually a soap-box-sized carton of screws or some small random piece of plumbing piping): “Would you like a bag for that?” (It makes me happy when they say no; plastic bags are horrible for the environment.)

The customers usually insert their cards into the card reader on my counter and then stare at me in their idle, waiting for me to perform some magical cashier trick on the computer, unaware until I peep up and tell them so that the card reader machine is waiting on them to push a button or enter a credit pin number.

Maybe I’m just as dull and reticent when I go home after nine hours of, “Hello, you find everything okay? Would you like a bag for that? It’s gonna have you select debit or credit--here’s your receipt, and here is a coupon for five dollars off a purchase of twenty-five or more,” as I am when I take my lunch breaks alone in the quiet of the training room, reading some overdue library book and pinching small bite-sized pieces off of a gas station brownie to nibble at instead of taking direct bites out of the suspiciously oily pastry.

Maybe I’m actually the notions inside my head. Maybe I am just a tool that they use to be heard and make their dreams a reality; maybe I’m not my body or job. Maybe I am a successful, peaceful, light-hearted artist and author--I just haven’t published my novels or hosted any successful art shows yet. Or any art shows, for that matter.

Perhaps I’m my mother’s daughter; stubborn and crazy, with an invariably rotten attitude and enough financial issues for myself and all of my fellow cashiers to build a boat out of and sail away from civilization and debt.

Maybe I’m always so quiet because I’m holding my tongue, like my mother, and thinking about slashing tires and throwing ceramic dishes at skulls and sinking screwdrivers into flesh, all in the name or petty revenge or an intense burst of anger. Except, come to think of it, my mother doesn’t actually ever hold her tongue, so I suppose I might just be quiet for reasons entirely my own.

Maybe I’m just like my mother’s mother, like my mother is so committed to convincing me I am, except fifty years younger; nasally voice, although mine is less whiny and severe; sitting in front of a computer for hours a day, except she uses the computer her husband bought for her to do lazy transcription work so she can have money for cigarettes, the only thing in life her husband won’t buy for her, and I saved up my paychecks in high school to buy my laptop so that I could leave Mudcap High School and graduate early through online classes; we both sleep a lot, and, as my mother said when I was in high school, I “spent a lot of time on my ass” just like Grammy does--although my time in bed was always induced by an inability to find the motivation to get up, and Grammy’s bedridden state came from staying up too late playing online solitaire.

Maybe I’m just that girl from Mudcap High School whose hair displayed a new fresh (done at home) short cut and color of the rainbow at the beginning and end of every month whose clothes all came from Salvation Army and whose stomach was always making obnoxious attention-seeking noises in Spanish--wait, you thought all that time that I was a boy? Well, yeah, I guess that’s reasonable. I wore a lot of huge baggy sweaters.

Maybe you just know me because you know somebody who knew me. In that case, maybe I only exist in your world and consciousness as the girl who broke Jo-Ellan’s heart, or the girl who tried to look like a boy but then dropped out and grew boobs and is now hot (in the online pictures, at least). Maybe your friend has a friend who knew my twin brother, and so you heard from your friend’s friend who knows my twin brother that my twin brother’s friend saw me on a dating app, and my brother told him, “Don’t worry dude, she doesn’t like dudes. She’s just looking for a sugar daddy.” And so my twin brother, whom we will call “Z”, laughed about it with his friend once the shocking sighting of Z’s twin sister on a dating app had passed, and all was well, but now people know that Z’s twin sister is a sugar baby and not as quiet and sweet as she seems.

Maybe you heard about me from Dan or Katherine; maybe you hope to meet me someday, because I sound like a very sweet person and you like the artwork of mine which they showed you.

Maybe you heard about me from Tyler, the guy I made sandwiches with when I worked at Subway in high school--in which case you probably believe him when he says that I did drugs in the back room of the restaurant.

Maybe you don’t even know my name--maybe you know me because you’ve seen the art I post online. Maybe you feel very connected to me, and feel pleased to see me when you see that I’ve posted a picture of a sketchbook page I’ve completed. Maybe You don’t know my name at all, but the way I layer paint and colored pencils and vary the thickness of my lineart is enough. Maybe the portraits and paintings I share are enough for you to care about me.

Maybe you’re one of Sage’s friends. Maybe you hung out with us the October night when it was warm and I was seventeen and he was eighteen and he put acid under my tongue with his goofy smile and then left my house because he was high and felt like God and my bathroom-sized bedroom was like a birdcage for him at that moment in time. Maybe you were there when he skateboarded from my house to Sebastian’s with more acid and weed in his backpack and the intention to share. Maybe you’re one of the three other guys who were at Sebastian’s house, already under the magical intoxication of Sage’s acid when he called a cab to pick me up from my house and bring me there to drink canned beer and smoke mediocre blunts until the sun came up and I noticed how swollen my lips felt, because acid always makes my lips feel all swollen and purple. So maybe you know me as Sage’s girlfriend who he didn’t call his girlfriend until I finally dumped him months later and he begged for me to stay and apologized for never giving me attention or being a good boyfriend. And that was the first time he had called himself my boyfriend.

I don’t want to think about nights like those anymore. The boy I’m dating now regards LSD with as much hissing ostracism as if it were all cocaine sold from the alley behind a gas station dumpster. Just thinking about that night makes me feel high, though--my anemia leads me to shiver even in sixty-degree weather, which Midwesterners consider quite warm, but I didn’t mind the wind blowing through my maroon flannel and thin anemic skin that night. As I sat on the cold chipped concrete steps in front of my house waiting for the cab Sage had called for me, the cold was refreshing and good-hearted instead of a brittle cruel punishment from Mother Nature. I didn’t feel insecure about my dingy old black high top Converse; my high-waisted jeans and black T-shirt didn’t make me feel like I looked like a twelve-year-old boy; and the dead-ends in my chin-length purple hair were not worth my concern.

The sky all up above and around me and the globe, hugging the horizon of the sleepy little dangerous city, cradling the most dangerous place in all of Indiana in its arm like a tired baby, was stark black, and I could basically smell it; it was a nice undiluted solid black, and there was no pollution hiding the stars. The stars had had a grand day, and were ready to make sure that I was going to have a grand night.

The neighbors on all sides of our house were drug dealers, and those were just the neighbors we actually talked to and knew anything about. The National Guard Armory to the right of my mother’s house, right across the narrow one-way street, was comical considering the neighborhood it was in. But none of that mattered; for once I didn’t hate it all.

The sky was a rich fragrant black, thick enough to choke you if it had such bad intentions; but its intention were only good. The black was the many yards of high-quality fabric of a fine lady’s skirt flowing endlessly down from a well-tailored strapless bodice with a lovely fit and comely sweetheart neckline. The stars were bright and small enough to be all the jewels and shiny beads which her personal tailor had surely spent weeks or months or even a lifetime hand stitching onto the top layer of her many layers of skirts.

It was such a good night to wait outside for a cab.

I will never have nights like that again; life is constantly changing. I can try to recreate that, but I will never get it right. Recreating such good things is a privilege entirely out of my pale mortal hands.

Maybe you know me as the girl who drew really nice insects at Emmons Elementary when we were nine years old who has since moved to and from at least three public schools in the next city over, and then left public schools entirely right smack in the middle of junior year. Maybe that’s how you know me.

You could know me as Andy. If you still know me as Andy, you probably either haven’t spoken to me since sophomore or freshman year, or you knew me in eighth grade when “Andy” was still a thing, and calling me by my real name now just wouldn’t feel right after all that time.

I told people to stop calling me Andy junior year, and people obeyed--well, really I just stopped talking to anybody, so nobody called me anything. But the man I am dating now called me my real name yesterday, and it just sounded strange. He never knew me when I was Andy, and Andy only lasted a few years, and I don’t introduce myself as Andy anymore. I don’t care to be called Andy anymore. Yet it feels so strange, hearing somebody casually call me by my real name. Not knowing that I ever had another name. I don’t think I’ve really spoken to people since high school, so that was one of the first times I’ve heard somebody say it. My mother doesn’t even use my name--she’s never really called me my name, or anything nice.

I’m rambling. My name just sounds weird. I don’t like it when boys say it passionately.

There are so many people that I may be--I can’t even begin to guess which one you may know me as. Even if I were to know exactly what experiences we’ve had together or who told you about me, maybe you don’t even see me as what we’ve done together or what you’ve heard--maybe your own personal thoughts and emotions warped what you know about me. Maybe for the better, probably for the worse. Maybe jealousy came into play somewhere along the road, and no matter what good things you’ve heard, you refuse to accept that somebody who dated somebody who you wanted to date can be genuinely kind and good. Maybe you don’t even remember anymore why you don’t like me. You just don’t.

Maybe you’ve loved me since freshman year, before you even knew my name, before you cut your hair short and before I grew mine out, so no bad things you hear about me sound right or can scathe your love.

Maybe you don’t want to know me. Maybe you wish you did. Maybe you’re thinking about checking the back cover of this book and scavaging the pages of tiny nonsense text that comes before the first chapter and prologue just so that you can find some email or way to contact me because you think I sound interesting.

However you see me now, though, that will change. The way I see myself changes at least three times per hour.

Steven Universe - Ruby Stars: Chapter Seven

A Trip to Wilmingmore

In the city of Wilmingmore, there was a enormous megamall. It was an enormous, grey concrete structure with a round roof, surrounded by a vast tarmac plain of parking lots and loading bays. It was if it resided in a gigantic black hole in the middle of the city, separated from the city centre and the docks by a ring of freeways, elevated roads and the railway line. It was the commercial heart of the state - it was called the Delmarva Centre.

Although the centre was vast, the stores inside needed space for their excess goods. On the eastern, dockyard side of the Centre were a series of warehouses for this purpose. They were old, dark and dusty, but they protected a sea of products from the elements.

That wasn't the only thing they protected.

Sometime in the previous winter, a corrupted quartz had lumbered down from Jersey in search of warmer climates. She travelled by night and slept by day, and incredibly had gone completely unnoticed by the time she reached the city.

She didn't like the city, however. It was loud, crowded and bright, and metal monsters screamed down the roads and railways at all hours. She had tried sleeping in the sewers underneath the city, but the dampness and the smell made her uncomfortable. So she wandered further along, cold and miserable, until at last she found one of the warehouses.

Inside, she found a bed in the corner. It was large and wooden, and she could just about fit inside, once she pushed out some of the strange trinkets that were already inside. Satisfied, she climbed inside, carefully closed the lid, curled up and went to sleep.

She slept for a very long time indeed. She was only awoken by a jolt as her bed started to move.

As it turned out, the crate belonged to an electronics store, and it was being moved inside the centre so that the contents to be added to the in-store stock.

Both they and the quartz were in for a nasty surprise...

"...yeah, I'm with Connie. I mean, fifty pages? That's way too much..."

"But Jenny, it's adorable!"

The van pulled into an empty parking space, and Greg turned off the engine.

"Okay, remember where we parked!"

Sadie climbed out of Greg's van, stretching her arms and legs. Wilmingmore wasn't that far from Beach City, but she was glad to be off the road all the same. In any case, she'd been looking forward to this for a while.

She, Steven, Connie and Jenny had come up to the Delmarva Centre to buy equipment for the band. Greg had suggested some new sound equipment, and they'd decided to make a day trip of it. Buck and Sour Cream hadn't been able to come (something about a project, they said), but that didn't mean they couldn't have fun on their own.

In any case, she needed the down time. Training back at Beach City had moved on to summoning her weapon. It wasn't going well, probably because she didn't have the first idea of what her weapon actually was. A day to cool off and focus on herself would probably be good for her - Garnet had even said as much herself.

"Okay," said Greg, "I'm gonna go pick this sound system up from WirelessShack - you guys meet me back at the van at about... three?"

"Are you sure you don't need help?" asked Sadie, "You're doing this for us, and..."

"Nah, I'll be fine," replied Greg kindly, "You guys enjoy yourselves!"

He wandered off in the direction of the Centre entrance.

"So," asked Connie, "What do you guys wanna do?"

"I'm pretty sure there's an arcade in there," replied Jenny, "I mean, if they haven't closed it or anything. I haven't been here for a year..."

"Or we could go to the LEGU Shop!" exclaimed Steven.

He held up his hand and Connie high-fived him.

Suddenly there came a low rumble. Connie looked at her stomach and blushed slightly.

"Well, guess we know what we're doing first," said Sadie.

She chuckled as they headed inside.

"...Seriously, you're making us come here so that you can use a payphone."

"It's not my fault they didn't have one at the office!"

"Bracknell, before we leave, we're getting you a mobile phone. I mean come on..."

Clancy and Bracknell wandered the colossal avenues of the mall. They were in search of what Clancy reckoned might have been the last payphone in the city of Wilmingmore so that Bracknell could call his parents on his mother's birthday. Clancy would have lent him his phone, except he was under no circumstances to lend his OSS-issued phone to anyone else - his boss had repeatedly told him that it was worth more than he was. Besides, it needed his fingerprints to work.

In any case, he was privately glad to be out of the factory-turned-office. The metallic smells were often overbearing, and either Bradshaw or one of his lackeys  called him every couple of hours. At least now he had an excuse to ignore them - and if he got Bracknell a phone, he could claim it was work.

Eventually, they reached the payphone. It was nestled in a corner overlooking a massive, circular concourse. As Bracknell dialled his parent's numbers, Clancy walked over to the railing and peered over it - he felt like a bit of people watching.

It was lunchtime, and people were generally heading to the food court, which was on the other side of the avenue Clancy had just come up. Some were getting business from students, as the Wilmingmore University generally allowed breaks for lunch around this time. There were a lot of people at Cold Issue, for example, and a few more at GameShop. Comparatively, the WirelessShack just across from him was quiet.

Suddenly, a familiar person caught his eye.

Clancy cursed under his breath as he saw Greg Universe, a U-Bahn sandwich in his hand, wandering over to the WirelessShack. He was whistling a tune, and seemed to be in good spirits.

"Okay," Clancy whispered to himself, "Don't worry, Bracknell's gonna be on the phone for a while, I don't have to talk to him..."

"Yeah, I'll call back when I get my phone. Give Dad my love! Bye!"

Clancy's eye twitched as Bracknell hung up the phone.

"She's at lunch with Grandma," he said, walking over, "I'll call her back tonight after I set up my phone. So, WirelessShack?"

Clancy frowned deeply.

Greg stood in line at the WirelessShack, waiting for the man in front to finish paying for his TV.

It took a lot to annoy Greg, but this man was starting to do just that. He was a well-dressed man in a fine suit with no tie, his hair immaculately coiffed, and his voice underlined with a deeply aristocratic air. He probably could have ordered a TV online (or gotten somebody else to do it), but instead he insisted on insulting and abusing the staff at the counter.

"Hurry up, you!" he spat, "I want this television today!"

"Uh-y-y-yes sir," replied the cashier, "I-I just need to make sure your card is valid before I can..."

"Valid? Valid? Do you know who I am?"

Greg was about to open his mouth and ask the man to cool off, when he suddenly felt a soft kick against his heel.

"Ooh, sorry sir, my fault."

"Nah, it's fine," Greg said, turning around.

He paused.

He didn't recognise the man that had kicked him - he was a short, suited, dark-skinned man who looked friendly enough. Behind him, looking as though he wished he was absolutely anywhere else right now, was Agent Clancy Miller.

"Clancy?" said Greg.

"Uh...Greg, yeah," nodded Clancy, "I… uh… we were just getting this kid a phone."

"A phone," nodded Greg.

"Yeah."

"And you went a hundred miles from Washington to get it."

"I… uh..."

Clancy sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I'm not here about your kid, alright?" he said at last, "They just want me to keep watch on gem stuff."

Greg nodded sceptically.

"Is...is Sadie well?" asked Clancy hesitantly.

"She's-"

"I want to see it before you load it up!" barked the rich man, "Bring the box out here and make it quick!"

Greg shot the man the sternest look he could (which was hard, as he was not a naturally stern man) before turning back to Clancy.

"She's okay," he replied, "She's living with the Gems for now."

"Yeah, Barb told me," nodded Clancy, "Do you...check in on her?"

Greg nodded.

"Does she tell you anything?"

"I promised I wouldn't tell you or Barb anything she didn't want you to know," replied Greg.

"Um, sir, I'm sort of feeling a bit 'third wheel' here," interjected the other man, "How do you two know each other?"

"Stay out of this, Bracknell," grunted Clancy.

The older agent sighed.

"Look, Greg, just... make sure she stays safe, okay?" he said, "Not for me. For her."

"She'll be alright," replied Greg, "I promise..."

"Ah, perfect! Finally, some punctuality. Wheel it up and I'll look inside."

The rich man was looking at a crate that had been wheeled up from the back. It was about waist high and quite wide - it must have been a very upmarket television. A grumpy looking worker was unscrewing the bolts to the lid. The rich man leant over him, waiting impatiently to see inside.

"Come on, come on, we haven't all day! Let's see it!" the man snapped, with his holier-than-thou attitude that made Greg's skin crawl.

The workman muttered something under his breath as he unscrewed the last bolt. Then, slowly and carefully, he lifted the lid off.

"Wait," said the wealthy man, "That isn't..."

A blue blur flew right into the snob's face, knocking him hard onto his back. Despite the panic of the moment, Greg had to admit it was a little vindicating.

The creature standing on the rich man's chest resembled a very large, very furry and very agitated bobcat. It's fur was light blue with a sprinkling of darker blue spots. Instead of a muzzle it had a beak, and one of its eyes was replaced by a blue gemstone. At the end of its tail was a large, sharp spike.

"Corrupted gem," hissed Clancy.

As the store erupted in a cacophony of amazement, some terror and a few laughs at the annoyingly well-tailored man's misfortune, the gem's head darted around. She seemed to be shaking - Greg realised it must be terrified.

"Okay, everybody quiet down!" he said, "She's scared!"

At that, the rich man tried to sit up. He scowled at his assailant.

"Get this hideous creature off of my new suit!" he thundered.

The gem jumped and yowled. For a second she dug her heels into the man's chest, causing him to wince and yelp in pain - then she was off, out of the store and into the mall, bowling down everyone in her way.

Greg, Clancy and Bracknell watched it disappear towards the food court.

"We... we should get after that thing," said Bracknell.

Clancy sighed.

"So much for a day off," he muttered.

Sadie picked at her food and sighed heavily.

They were sitting in a restaurant in the food court - a fifties-styled diner, with an old jukebox and a lovingly restored roadster out the front. Sadie and Jenny sat alone in the booth; Steven and Connie had gone to try and work the jukebox.

"What's up, Sadie Killer?" asked Jenny.

Sadie stared at a fry in her hand.

"I'm starting to notice that everything seems to taste different," she replied.

"So you hate some of the foods you used to like?" asked Jenny.

Sadie nodded, pointing to an unfinished burger on the side of her plate.

"I never used to have a problem with them," she explained, "But now onions make me gag when I try to eat 'em. And it's not even just that! I don't need as much sleep as I used to or get tired as much, and I never feel like I'm too hot or too cold, and..."

In fact, it was more than simply the taste of the food. Perhaps she was being paranoid, but she was sure that people were looking at her differently - and why wouldn’t they? Her strange new red eyes, the gem that poked out from under her shirt - these were not things normal people had. She felt like everyone was judging her, silently fearing her - like she was something other than what they were.

She no longer felt like Sadie Miller (and in many ways she wasn’t - after all, Clancy Miller wasn’t even her father.) In many ways, she hardly felt like Sadie at all. She felt more a Ruby, less a human, the gem in her torso starting to weigh on the wires supporting her sense of who she even was. They grew tauter by the day, and she felt about ready to snap.

Jenny put a hand on Sadie's.

"Hey, girl, breathe," she said.

Sadie closed her eyes and breathed in and out slowly.

"I just... feel less human," she said, "And that's not fair, because I'm not any different from Steven and he never feels like he's not human... at least I don't think he does..."

"Look, Sadie," replied Jenny, "I'm not gonna pretend I understand this, but it's okay if you're scared of what's happening to you. I mean, change is freaky. But you're gonna get through it. You're not alone."

Sadie nodded and smiled weakly back at her.

"Yeah," she sighed, "I guess you're right."

Anything else she might have said was interrupted by the return of Steven and Connie.

"They unplugged the jukebox," said Connie, shrugging, "Someone set it up to play What's New Pussycat twenty-one times."

"Geez, really?" asked Sadie, "Somebody must've had a lot of time on their..."

A shriek echoed through the diner.

Sadie got up, looking out into the food court. Scores of people were racing for the exits, although a few had stopped and whipped out their phones and cameras. The cause of the concern was a blue monster, large and fluffy, that stood on a table. It growled at a security guard, who was very nervously backing away.

"A corrupted gem!" gasped Steven.

"Darn it, now?" exclaimed Connie, "But I left my sword at home!"

"You have a sword?" asked Jenny.

Connie shrugged.

"It's a long story."

The monster growled, stepping towards the security guard. It looked like she was preparing to pounce.

"Okay, we need to bubble her," said Steven, drawing his shield, "Just take it nice and easy, and..."

Suddenly, everything seemed to happen at once.

A young man in a black suit dove out from behind a table, aiming to tackle the monster. He missed, landing hard on his stomach and knocking over the table next to it. A bottle of ketchup crashed to the floor and sprayed him in the face.

The creature just about jumped out of her skin, shooting off the table like a startled cat. She roared and thundered towards the window of the diner. With a mighty crash she jumped through, landing right in front of Sadie and Jenny.

Before they could react, she roared again - this time, a sonic boom burst from her mouth, picking Sadie up and sending her flying into the back wall. She hit her head hard - she slumped to the floor, her vision swimming. Dust flew everywhere.

"Put him down!"

Sadie's vision cleared. She saw the monster - she had lifted Steven up by his shirt with her tail. Connie had picked up a stool and lifted it over her head - she was about to charge in.

"OSS! Stay back!"

A man stepped through the dust, carrying a crowbar. Sadie's eyes widened.

It was Clancy Miller.

"C'mere girl," Clancy urged, "C'mere. Nice and easy..."

The creature dropped Steven - he landed hard on the tiled floor. She turned to face to agent, growling again. Clancy braced himself slightly - he didn't seem to have noticed Sadie.

"Yeah, that's good, away from the kid," said Clancy, "Over here, I can make this nice and easy..."

The monster pounced towards Clancy. He held up the crowbar like a swordsman parrying an enemy - with a sickening crunch, the crowbar bent out of shape as the monster caught it in her beak. She tore it from the agent's hands almost effortlessly and threw it to the floor.

"...oh," said Clancy, backing away, "Uh… shoot, um..."

The monster charged again. The agent shut his eyes.

Before she could tackle Clancy, he was shoved into cover by Jenny. They both landed hard in a corner booth, the agent knocking his head hard on the bottom of one of the stools. Instantly, the creature turned - it growled and prepared to charge once more. Jenny shielded the stunned agent and braced, waiting for the attack to come.

Sadie shook the dizziness from her head and grit her teeth.

This wasn't fair. She'd come here to get away from her problems, just for a day. Not only had a corrupted gem turned up to ruin it, but her once-father had also had the gall to turn up and make everything worse. Now her friend was going to get hurt, and she was just sitting here, watching numbly.

Jenny didn't deserve this.

Steven and Connie didn't deserve this.

She didn't deserve this.

It just. Wasn't. Fair.

"Get away from her!"

Sadie lunged to her feet, rushing towards the gem monster. Her gem glowed, and she felt something emerge from it. Without thinking, she grabbed it and pulled it out.

She lifted the short, red spear and buried it into the monster's back with all the force she could muster. There was an enormous puff of smoke, and she heard something hard land on the floor.

She landed on her knees, breathing heavily. As the adrenaline wore off, she gazed in wonderment at the weapon. It was a practical spear, no more than a meter long - it was dark red with a lighter red head. It seemed to glow slightly, but perhaps that was Sadie's imagination. She glanced from the weapon to her gem and then back again, her face going slightly pale.

"Did… did I make this?"

She looked over to Jenny and Clancy. The former had already gotten up and was running over to check on her friend (she seemed to be stowing her phone as she did), but Clancy was frozen in place, gazing in stunned silence at the half-gem.

"...my god," he breathed.

Sadie wondered if he was in awe or horrified, but she couldn't help but suspect the latter.

They stared at each other in numb silence. Jenny was saying something, but Sadie couldn't process it. Steven was bubbling the gem, and Greg had arrived with the other agent - they were saying things too, but they might as well have been mute.

At last, Clancy spoke again.

"I can't… I… Bracknell, we need to go!"

He sprung to his feet, adjusting his tie with shaking hands as he walked briskly to the door. The younger agent - Bracknell, apparently - quickly followed, glancing back towards the ruined diner as he did. They passed several diner patrons and mall customers, none of whom paid them any attention.

All attention seemed to be on Sadie. She swallowed, her throat dry, and looked at her shaking hands.

She didn't want this. She didn't want this.

"Sadie?" asked Steven, his voice underlined with worry.

Sadie clutched her head, the spear vanishing as she let go of it. Her head was spinning again, and she felt like she was going to be sick.

"... I… I think I need to go."

"Sir," said Bracknell, "What the heck was that?"

They had driven back to the factory in utter silence, Clancy's hands clutching the wheel so hard that he feared he might crush it. Now, sitting in the parking lot, his partner had decided to break the oppressive quiet.

"She's not supposed to actually have a gem, Bracknell," replied Clancy, "I… she's supposed to be normal."

He clutched his forehead and ran a hand through his hair, gritting his teeth.

"That's what Barb wanted, that's what I wanted, that's what Kay wanted!" he exclaimed, "She was supposed to have a normal life, and I told her about that gem, and I screwed it up!"

"It can't be that bad, can it?" asked Bracknell.

Clancy breathed in, shaking his head.

"The ruby I was supposed to get from Beach City," he replied, "The one I was supposed to find..."

There was a long silence, save for the sound of Clancy’s ragged, anxious breathing.

"Oh," said Bracknell flatly.

"Yeah," snapped Clancy, "Oh."

He shook his head.

"And then I just ran off," he sighed, "She probably thinks I think she's some kind of freak. She doesn't need that, and..."

Hesitantly, Bracknell put a hand on his partner's shoulder.

"It's okay, sir, it's okay," he said, "Just… we'll figure it out, alright?"

Clancy shook off his hand.

"No," he said, sending his partner a sharp glare, "This is my mess, Bracknell. I don't want you mixed up in it."

He sighed again, turning the engine back on again. Bracknell bit his tongue and swallowed, not daring to speak up.

"Right, let's go," he said.

"Go where?" asked Bracknell.

"To one of the other Wilmingmore malls," replied Clancy, "We still need to get you that darn phone."

The sun was setting as they approached Beach City.

The van ride had been quiet. Greg had taken everything in his stride - he could always get the new sound system another day, after all. Steven and Connie had quietly discussed the bubbled gem and the possibility of getting a sword rack for the van for the next time they travelled.

Sadie had spent the whole trip home looking out the window - she felt absolutely miserable.

There was a soft beep from Jenny's phone. She checked the message and smiled.

"Yo, Sadie Killer?" she said.

"Yeah?" sighed Sadie.

Quietly, Jenny wagered a question.

"Feeling any better...?"

"No," replied Sadie.

"Well, I've got a little something for you," said Jenny, smiling, "Here, take a look!"

Sadie looked at Jenny's phone. On the screen was a picture of her in the diner, spear in hand. Her eyes seemed to glow like burning coals, and the discarded gem of the monster lay next to her. She frowned - could that really be her?

No wonder people thought she was a freak.

She was about to say something that effect when Jenny scrolled down, revealing a long list of messages received. She smiled earnestly as Sadie read through them.

looking good SK!!! that spear would make a rad prop in our next vid!

Buck is pleased.

SADIE!!! AWESOME SPEAR!!! WE NEED TO TALK, I HAVE TO PUT THIS ON MY BLOG!!!

omg jen?! she beat a monster! that's amazing!

Hello Sadie

Excellent work! We'll need to discuss how you did it, but I couldn't be more proud!

From Pearl

By Jove! She looks like a modern day Artemis! I'll have to cast her in my next play!

Sadie continued to read the long list of replies. It seemed that Jenny had sent the picture to just about everyone, and they'd all sent praise back. She shook her head - how was she supposed to process this?

"See?" said Steven, "Nobody in Beach City thinks you're a freak!"

"They do think you're awesome, though," added Connie.

Jenny put an arm around Sadie's shoulders.

"Sadie, it doesn't matter if you're human or gem or one of Ronaldo's sneople," she said, "You're still Sadie, and that hasn't changed. All the people who matter still love you, girl!"

"Yeah!" Steven and Connie exclaimed.

"Yeah!" said Greg.

He paused, biting his lip.

"I wasn't listening, what's the conversation about?" he asked.

Sadie smiled.

"Yeah, I guess," she sighed, "Thanks."

She closed her eyes and put a hand over her gem, slowly breathing in and out. She still didn’t feel human - but just for a moment, she felt like Sadie again.

"It really means a lot," she said sincerely.