#IDIOT!! did it not say on your reservation you needed cash. why do you only have one card with you. why didn’t you have more cash????

[castielsupernatural]

i always feel a bit vindicated when my best friend’s husband does a bad job taking care of her because he’s an honest to god idiot

[nicorobinsimp333]

Best Friends?

Suna Rintaro x f reader

AN: hello everyone so this is my first fic since 2018 and it’s not proof read so pls be kind 🥹 anyways I look forward to writing more fics and I hope you enjoy. If you have any request feel free to request a fic. I’m currently going to be writing for Haiykuu, one piece, and black clover.

Warnings : 3.6k, cursing, kissing and angst

Fun fact my name is Rin.

You and Suna have been friends for years but it hadn’t been until recently that you noticed your feelings for him. You always thought that you willing did so much for him because he was your best friend. It wasn’t until Atsumu jokingly made a comment about how smitten you were that it all clicked. You realized that the reason why you loved doing those things was because you got to see his rare smile and hear him call you cute names reserved only for you. It had been two months since the realization and it was getting harder to be around him without blushing like an idiot over the smallest things. You decided that you were going to go for it, that there was no way that he didn’t feel the same. He treated you way different from everyone else, plus all the random girls who would come up and confess to him he would turn down. So you figured you’d do it after one of the practice matches. It would be an easy Segway.

You’d ask him to get some food afterwards and that is where you’d let him know about your feelings. As the game ended, you helped clean up as he went into the locker room, once the team was done you wave goodbyes to all of them before rushing to his side. You asked if he’d accompany you for some dinner at your secret ramen shop. Which he sighed and said yes. As you two walked he complained about wanting to hurry to get home to rest. Saying that school plus the game were a little too much today. As you make it inside and sit at your usual booth you start getting nervous. You order the usual. As you turn to him, there he was stoic as ever. You clear your throat.

“So, I have something I’ve been wanting to tell you for a while, and when I say what I have to don’t interrupt, even if you have a really funny joke.” He simply nods. Your palms are sweating and your voice is starting to waver. You think 20 seconds of courage is all you need. “ I love you Rin.”

“I love you too, y/n/n.”

“ I said no interrupting”

“continue, continue” he says with his hands up.

“I love you in a way thats more than just friends and I know your sarcastic ass is gonna say like best friends, and no because that’s what we already are. I love you in the way where I want to kiss your stupidly handsome face, where I want to hold your large callous hands while you complain about the twins annoying you. I want to cuddle with you, where I can hold your

hand and sneak kisses while you’re drifting off to sleep. I want to walk around in your jersey with the intention of everyone knowing I’m yours. I…I love you SunaRin and I think I always have been. You’re someone special and I hope I’m someone special to you too. So what do you say Rin, do you wanna do this with me? Do you wanna be mine?” The silence is deafening and his face is hard to read. You’re starting to regret saying all this. You’re getting desperate with every passing second. Your voice is small and pleading, “please say something”

He places his hands atop of yours. “I’m sorry���. Is what came out first and with those two small words you feel your chest pounding in your ears. Your eyes start to tear up but you’ll be damned if you start crying. It’s just rejection right, it happens to everyone. You’ll live. You’ll be okay. You repeat to yourself over and over in your mind.

“Believe me I love you, you know that. I just don’t love you in that way.” One single tear falls and you scream at yourself for it. You look up at him and simply nod. Moving your hand from his you reach in your bag, grab some cash and walk out. Before suna can realize what just happened you’re gone. He wants to run after you but what is he gonna do? Hold you in his arms and say sorry for not loving you how you love me? He stays in the ramen shop wondering if you two will be okay? When he gets home he sends you a text in hopes of a reply but honestly what does he expect after he just broke your heart.

As you make it home the tears haven’t stopped falling since you left the shop. This isn’t what you imagined, not one bit. You got to your room, pulled the covers over you and sobbed yourself to sleep. You didn’t end up going to school the next day, giving you parents the excuse that you have a cold. And since your voice was hoarse and eyes red they believed you. You laid in bed all day wondering how it was gonna be when you see him tomorrow, how it was going to play out. Will it be awkward, will he try to make it seem normal. As the day went on you just slept trying to forget about everything and how stupid you felt for ruining your friendship.

When you didn’t show up for school Suna got worried. He sent you a text asking where you were. His day went slower than usual and he was annoyed all day. Once practice started everyone could tell something was up with him. He wasn’t recording the bickering of the twins and no snarky remarks. When they split into two teams for a practice match, Kita decided to ask if he was okay and he just shrugged. So kita left it alone but of course Atsumu seen and wanted to know what was wrong. So he walked up and asked him if he knew why you weren’t at practice today. When he ignored him, Atsumu got annoyed. “Did you and your girlfriend get in a fight or what?”

He snapped back “She’s not my girlfriend. I don’t even see her in that type of way. She’s like a sister to me.”

When he said that the whole gymnasium got quiet even the coaches. Osumu decided to chime in because he knew Suna was hard headed but he didn’t realize that he was a oblivious to his feelings for you. “You really believe that SunaRin, because I’ve seen you with your sister and the way you two act and the way you act with y/n are way different.”

“Just drop it ‘samu, this is practice not discuss my love life. Let’s play.” With that they continued playing. With tension in the air, coach decided to end practice early. He didn’t want chaos to ensue which would surely happen if a minor disagreement occurred.

Once it was over the boys went into the locker room to change. Kita went up to Suna and asked what was wrong. Suna confessed to everything that happened and how his day was shit. He was worried about you since you didn’t come to school and didn’t even let him know if you got home safely last night. And that’s when it happened. A screaming match between Aran and Suna. Aran told him that he was too stupid to not realize that he was actually in love with you and Suna told him to fuck off.

“ No, I’d rather not suna because you acting like a fucking idiot affects the whole team. If you don’t want your personally life mixed in with volleyball life than get your shit together. Stop mopping about your nonexistent problems because the one hurting the most is y/n.” The locker room silenced after that. Suna couldn’t even say he was wrong because even when he’s had bad days he’s never really let it affect his game play. He had no right to feel sad or hurt when he was the coward who couldn’t be what you needed.

When suna got home he couldn’t come to terms with the fact that he actually loved you. He locked that deep in his heart and no one was going to be able to unlock that except him. He decided he would talk to you tomorrow. Make it up to you with some of your favorite snacks. He went to sleep earlier than usual to ensure he had enough time to stop and get them. He headed to your usual meet up spot but when you didn’t show up he figured you just weren’t going to school again. As he made it to the front gate he saw you. Puffy eyes and a small pout on your face. He smiled knowing you were safe but it soon made his heart hurt knowing that your eyes were like that because of tears. Tears that were caused by him. He made it to where you were and stood next to you. You hadn’t noticed until your friends walked away suddenly, leaving you confused. Suna cleared his throat. And you stiffened hoping that you’d be able to at least get through your morning avoiding him. You turned and looked at him trying to force a smile to your face but it was wobbly. He didn’t say anything just reaching into his bag and handing you the snacks.

“Umm, thanks but I actually have to get going. I have to go get my missing assignments from yesterday see you around.” You said leaving him dumbfounded. He knew it wasn’t going to just go back to how it was but were you going to just ignore him? The rest of the day you avoided him like the plague til you couldn’t anymore since you were the volleyball manager. You didn’t know that all the boys knew what happened. You figured since suna wasn’t one to put his business out there you could at least act some what regular and put the awkwardness to the side for a few hours. You still avoided him talking and joking mostly with Atsumu and Kita. Practice went on til you had a break and Atsumu couldn’t just keep his mouth shut. “So you seem happy for someone who got rejected by the love of their life.” You froze, you couldn’t believe what you just heard. Did he really blabber about what happened. The most embarrassing moment of your life was already known to the team.

“What did you just say Atsumu.” You could see Kita in your peripheral trying to hint at him to shut up, to just drop it.

“I mean you’re avoiding him but still joking, I just wanted to know how you’re making it look so easy?”

Easy? Ha if he only knew. You’re dying inside. You can’t even look in his general direction, let alone hold a conversation with him. You’re joking to distract yourself from how miserable you feel. How you ruined your friendship with someone who you care for so much it hurts. Can he not see the hurt in your eyes, is he just saying this to get a reaction out of you? You get out of your head and finally reply.

“Not that it’s any of your fucking business Atsumu, but I’m joking around with your dumbass because it’s keeping me from crying. I know you’re dense but did you really have to bring it up. I understand that i really shouldn’t be mad at you since it was Suna who didn’t keep his mouth shut about the whole situation but fuck you Atsumu.” With that you walked away from the two of them and went straight to suna.

Suna is talking with Aran and Osamu, his back turned to you. You tap his shoulder and he turns around. Before he can say anything you reach up and slap him across the face. The gym is quiet. Did that really just happen? Is what’s written on everyone’s face. You look over at the coaches with apologetic eyes as they just turn around and continue their conversation. You look up at Suna whose holding his face and a look you’ve never seen on him before. He was actually hurt.

“I can’t believe you, Rintarō. I get embarrassing me in private but to share it with the team is low even for you. I’ve always had your back and I’ve done everything to always defend you. And sure it’s not your fault that you don’t love me in the same way that I do you, but for you to share that information with the team just … wow. You’re actually the person everyone warned me about. And to hear it from Atsumu of all people, I just can’t believe you’d actually hurt me intentionally.”

“Y/n I-“

“Just don’t.” You raise your hand and point between the two of you. “Whatever this was between us is over. Don’t talk to me, don’t text me, don’t wait for me, don’t come over to my house, just leave me the fuck alone from now on okay. The only interaction I want with you is when you need something from me as your manager and even that is pushing it. I want nothing to do with you, you got that.” He nods and you can see his eyes getting glossy and you choose to ignore it because you can’t be there to comfort him when he was the one who broke you first.

“Oh and since all of you know my business don’t be like Atsumu and bring that shit up. No,I’m not okay, and no I don’t want to fucking talk about it” You walk over to the coaches and apologize before you ask if you can go home early. You grab your bag and head out of the gym. You stop at one of the benches and just crumble. Did that just happen. Did you just lose your Bestfriend? Was that too extreme? No, your feelings are just as valid. If he wants to apologize he can but if you choose to forgive him its on you and only you.

Back in the gymnasium the doors close and Suna rushes Atsumu, holding him against the wall. “What the fuck did you say to her?”

Atsumu has his hands up as he’s getting shoved into the wall. “I just asked her how she’s making it look easy, after everything that’s happened.”

Suna goes to punch him but is dragged away by Aran and one of the coaches. Kita and Osumu are already scolding him for not knowing how to read the room. Telling him that he had no place to say that to you and he needs to apologize, to not only you but Suna.

Suna and Aran are sitting in the locker room with the coach at the door. None of them speak. No one knows what to say. Aran finally speaks “Suna, I’m not going to ask if you’re okay because I can clearly see you’re not, but can I ask you why you didn’t just tell her you love her too?”

Suna lifts his head out of his hands and turns to him. His mouth opens and closes but he can’t form the words. He finally cracks and the tears just stream from his face. “You heard her, I’m not a good person, everyone knows that. I didn’t want to hurt her. If we did end up together, I would ruin it eventually. I’m not good with my feelings but with her as my Bestfriend it was easy. I didn’t need to say much and she knew. She knows me better than anyone and I lost her because I was too scared to just admit that I’ve been in love with her since the first day we met.”

“Not to rub salt in your wound but you already ruined it. You ruined something beautiful because you couldn’t just let her know you love her. You were afraid of everything that has already happened. Do you feel good about your decision?”

“No, Aran I don’t”

“Then what are you going to do about it?”

“What can I do, she told me to leave her alone. Never speak to her again. I can’t just walk up to her and say sorry I was a coward who couldn’t just admit I love you too.”

“And why not? Because it would make you vulnerable. Are you really willing to throw your relationship with her away because you’re afraid of the worse that has already happened?“

Suna sits there pondering on what he should do. Arans right the worse has already happened. What could be worse than this, what he’s feeling right now at this moment. “You’re right. ” it comes out as a whisper.

“I always am” as he pats sunas back and pushes him off the bench.

As he gets up to walk out, he turns. “Oh and Aran, if you ever tell anyone I cried, I’ll kick your ass.” He laughed at the end of the sentence. He knew he would never but he just had to make sure.

With his hands in the air “come on Rin who do you take me for Atsumu.” He chuckled as the middle blocker walked out of the locker room and back onto the court.

“Suna, I’m so sorry, if you want to kick my ass go ahead just watch the hands and the face they’re the money makers.” Atsumu says as he covers his face and turns away.

“You know about 10 mins ago I would have but I realized that it’s not your fault… entirely. I don’t really need your apology but you definitely need to apologize to y/n. What you did was stupid even for you.”

Frantically running towards the coaches. “I need to leave. I’m sorry for being such a hassle these past few days, I promise I’ll make it up.” Bowing one final time before dashing towards the exit.

He spots you, hands covering your face. As he approaches, he hears your cries. He knows he’s fucked up and he knows he doesn’t deserve your forgiveness or your love but he has to try right. It’s now or never. He can’t lose you. No, he won’t lose you. You’re the best thing that has ever happened to him.

Cautiously he reaches out towards you. Placing a hand on you shoulder. Whipping you head up to see who it was, furiously wiping away your tears.

“Come here to humiliate me some more?” Shaking his head, and pleading for you to listen. You scoot over for him to sit. You’re not quite sure why. You know he doesn’t love you like that. It may be because this might be your last pleasant moment before going your separate ways. As no words are shared for a few minutes you finally decide to get up.

Rin reaching for your wrist, making you look back at him waiting for him to say something. Anything.

“I’m sorry” you cringe at the words. “I don’t deserve you, I don’t deserve your love or your friendship… I was a coward, to afraid to realize what he had until it was to late. I’m sorry for telling the guys, I have no excuses and I don’t want to make any. This was all on me and I’m sorry.” You stare into his eyes, not finding any sign to show he was deceiving you.

“I forgive you Rin. Just please give me time. Let me grieve you and the love that I have to let go of.”

“No”

“No? What do you mean no?” Now you’re confused and starting to get pissed off.

“I… I love you. I love you so much it hurts. I’ve locked these feelings away for so long that when you confessed to me I forgot.I swore to myself that I would never confess because I never wanted to hurt you. However, I ended up doing that because I’m an idiot. A stupid fucking idiot. I’ve loved you since the moment we met. You’re the bravest, kindest human to walk this tragic realm. You keep me on my toes and you never fail to to put a smile on my face. Even when you piss me off, even when you side with the miyas and even when you drag me out of bed. I love you and I’m sorry for taking so long to tell you.” He’s holding both you hands at this point. Both standing in silence. This has to be a dream right. You can’t wrap your head around it. “You love me? And you’re not pulling a prank on me?” Tears are falling.

“No” chuckling while wiping your tears. “Never about my feelings for you. May I?” He asks as he lifts your chin. Only nodding because all words have left your brain.

The kiss was sweet and passionate. As if both of your feelings from the moment you met up until this moment are fused into it. As you both pull away you feel like you’re on cloud nine.

“So, what do you say? Will you be mine?” Hands resting on your hips.

“I’m sorry…” shocked and stunned is the facial expression you’d describe on Rins face. While you on the other hand are grinning ear to ear. “But I’d love too” teasing him before placing your hands in his.

Whistles could be heard from the side. You both turn to see 4 heads sticking out from the gymnasium door. The twins, Aran and Kita. You turn to Rin who has a huge smirk on his face. Turning back to you and kissing you once more.

“Get a room” is all you can hear before smiling into Rins soft lips.

[bohemian-nights]

It still blows my mind how Chris, the showrunner of the first 2 Bridgerton seasons, isn’t held accountable for any of that writing. The contrast between how he’s treated and given so much grace versus how they treat Shonda and Jess, the new showrunner. I’m just sitting her like, do they not see this? Mind you, Shonda isn’t even our showrunner. She doesn’t even write for the show. I’m not saying she’s not involved at all but…. if they’re going to blame Jess for a season that hasn’t happened yet and writing they haven’t seen yet, why wasn’t Chris blamed for the first two seasons? Why is he given so much grace? As if he was being controlled by the “evil” Shonda Rhimes? Am I crazy or is this fandom really weird about all of that? Why is Chris seen as the guy who should save us from the writing of future seasons? Why should he come back? What evidence is there that he could do better? I’m just so lost. It’s just blatant misogyny and racism and the fans don’t know how to be normal with their criticisms. The way Shonda is blamed for the marketing and not Netflix who’s really in charge of all of that. It’s insane. It’s interesting… They’re making me defend this woman who I’m not even that fond of myself like. But there’s just an obvious bias that I cannot stay quiet about. It’s a bit much. It’s not even subtle.

Shonda is definitely used as a scapegoat for obvious reason. With Jess, I want to give her a chance. Chris definitely shouldn’t be held up to a high regard after season 2. However, I think people are pissed at Jess because Benedict’s season was skipped and because of all the “leaks” that have come about.

Due to what happened yesterday the fandoms morals is at an all time low.

I don’t think half of what was “leaked” has any truth in it(specifically talking about yesterday), but since we have no actual way of verifying things until both part 1 and part 2 drop, people are reacting to what has been put out there.

Now if people are upset about the show being split into two parts, yeah that’s definitely not Jess or Shonda’s fault.

That’s Netflix trying to get more money out of one of their biggest cash cows cause they did the same thing with Strangers Things and The Crown. It’s a really stupid model and they either need to go back to releasing all of the episodes at once or spacing them out weekly.

In turns of where the fault lies with Shondaland, it’s I trying to hide the last two episodes for no good reason(well I suppose it’s to create hype, but all they’ve done is piss people off). With that move they’ve opened up Pandora’s box to allow trolls to run wild and play with peoples emotions.

Personally for me though, I’m reserving judgement until, I find out what they have done with Franchael and who is playing Sophie Beckett.

The show would be idiotic to try to place a Black woman in a role intended for a beloved male character. Bridgerton has established that gay people do not have a happy ending. so after what they did with Lady Danbury in QC, turning Mariana biracial when they know she has to die, doing that spinoff on QC which while beautiful was yet another tragic love story, it would be a slap in the face to Black fans to never give a Black woman a happy ending like every other woman is allowed on this show.

Our only representation on this show cannot be more pain and misery. It can’t be a relationship that must be lived out in secrecy.

You shouldn’t market your show to Black women(cause this show is heavily marketed to black people) say your subverting expectations and providing representation when you’re doing the same old same old.

For Bridgerton to be Shondaland production the fact that we haven’t gotten a Black female lead is disturbing to me.

Shonda is not involved in the day to day operations, but it’s obvious she’s involved in the big decision making like who are they going to cast in a lead role or who’s season is going to be next.

So if Sophie isn’t Black and Masali is somehow playing Michael and that’s our only representation then yeah it’s fuck you to Shonda, Jess, and everyone else involved in this mess.

Again I don’t think that Shondaland is that idiotic to do that. Mainly because even if they don’t care about Black women, Franchael fans damn sure will be mad about having their story ruined and it would be because just like with Benophie their story is gender specific, but I reserve judgement until I see things with my own eyes.

[alfredosauce50]

Hi! I was wondering if you could do some Romano + Prussia x royal reader (separate) headcannons? I'm a sucker for a good forbidden romance and would be happy to see what you want to do with it. Thank you!

Yes, of course! Sorry for the kinda late response--I got carried away writing other things. What a coincidence that I've been doing a lot of exploring in fantasy! The reader is referred to as she/her.

Forbidden Romance Headcanons - Prussia and S. Italy

Prussia - The earnest pickpocket and sheltered princess

Unfortunately, Gilbert is on the wrong side of history. As an albino, he's been an outcast ever since he was born. In an age of superstition and class divide, his parents had no problem abandoning an extra mouth to feed. Especially when they were a demon with magical powers. Left to fend for himself as a baby, he only ever survived thanks to the generosity of an old neighbor. When they passed away due to old age, he had to get on by himself on the streets. Stealing, lying, whatever it takes to get some quick cash. And he's been doing it ever since he was five.

He loved fairytales ever since he was a kid. His guardian always told him these stories before bedtime, after all. They said it was good luck to give the princess a flower, and he remembered this a few years later during the royal parade in town. Pushing through the crowd of onlookers, he held out a small dandelion hoping you would take it. Before the guards could swat him away, you took the flower with a smile. All you remembered from that time was a small and dirty face gleaming up at you. And, of course, a pair of striking red eyes you would never forget.

In his adolescence, he became a thief with quick hands. It wasn't until he took on the most dangerous job of all did he make himself a public enemy. Stealing the royal family's jewels. And he would've gotten away with it if he wasn't forced to take a detour through the princess's bedroom. Unbeknownst to him, you were wide awake. Immediately, you recognized him as the little boy from that day. Without thinking, you hid him in your wardrobe until the guards left. That was the start of a strange friendship forged between two people from two worlds--a dirt-poor criminal and the well-loved princess of a thriving kingdom.

He visits you from time to time by climbing up the side of the castle. When he first did it, you practically throttled him by his collar, screaming, “Do you have a death wish? They'll throw you to the lions if you get caught!”. He simply responds with, “The awesome me never gets caught! That's why I'm here, ja?” Soon, this becomes routine until you learn to trust him.

Gilbert loves gloating about his adventures as a street rat, whether it's about singlehandedly beating up gangs of bullies or outrunning the palace guards. As a sheltered person of royalty, his stories reflect experiences alien to you. But it opens your eyes to things you've never seen, and it's very fascinating.

If he's not telling grossly exaggerated anecdotes of his greatness, he'll bring in board games and cards he “borrowed” from his friends. You've never played with them before as your parents deemed them unrefined. It fills him with pride to see you enjoying yourself so much, especially when he's teaching you how to play.

You don't go out very often, so he always brings back little trinkets and souvenirs. When you found out he stole them all, you would hit him on the head and tell him off. “Where did you get these from? Stealing and giving these to the princess--do you know how stupid that sounds?” Then, you would pinch his cheek until he tears up and admits his wrongs. “I-I thought you would like them, okay? I wanted to give them to you as a present...” The next day, you would accompany him to the shops he robbed and pay the owners back.

He gets upset and embarrassed when he realizes those gifts aren't gifts at all. Not when you paid for them yourself! One of the ways he shows affection is through giving gifts, but that unfortunately clashes with not having money. So he's eager to make something out of himself, even if he has to work as a bottom feeder and face unfair treatment for what he looks like. When you find out, his boss gets one hell of a time dealing with you. After that, he uses whatever small amount he earned to buy something for you.

As he grows out of his old habits, he becomes more honest. In fact, he's so determined to prove himself that he shows up one day with a homemade board game scribbled out on a spare piece of parchment. He's nervous and twiddling his fingers, and that's when you know you have to help him get back onto his feet. He's so touched by your kindness that he shows you a secret he's been hiding forever--he can do magic. It's one of his skills that let him become so good at stealing in the past.

After some practice to touch up his abilities, you try convincing your parents to let him work in the palace as an all-rounder. With the magic dancing in his fingertips, there's nothing he can't do. He has a green thumb, good reflexes, and the horses in the stables listen to him better than the caretaker! He can't forget that you encouraged him to let go of his doubts and previous identity as a petty thief. There's nobody in the world he looks up to more.

On the night of your eighteenth birthday, he's invited to a ball to celebrate. Once again, he finds himself anxious to see you in your dress, especially when he's quite glammed up himself with his suit and hair slicked back. While you teach him how to dance, he tells you he looks ridiculous. But you think otherwise and make it explicit. That's when Gilbert realizes he's completely smitten with you. He embarks on another journey to improve himself until he thinks he deserves you.

South Italy - The plebeian pâtissier and renegade royal

War has ravaged the kingdom and eaten into the state's reserves, leaving inflation rates at an all-time high. The suffering middle and working-class take it up to their rulers in a coup d'état, killing the king and queen. And now, they're searching for the princess amidst the chaos of an ungoverned dominion. Romano couldn't be more indifferent to such a cause, only ever caring about putting food on the table. He works day and night helping out his family's bakery, making what he can to get by. However, he's forced to take a side when he finds a girl on his doorstep on the verge of starvation.

Unable to turn away someone in need, he nurses you back to health. However, he does so with spite, wondering to himself why he has to give what little he has left to a princess. When you feel better after a few days, he's eager to send you off but changes his mind as you leave. Romano can't bear to let you face certain death, or worse, knowing how bitter the townspeople are about the unpopular war. So he welcomes you back with a sharp sigh with his head turned away. “Alright, alright, you can stay. Now stop making that pathetic face, you spoilt principessa--it's depressing.”

He relays a few house rules as conditions for keeping you around. You have to help him with chores. Cooking, cleaning, sewing, everything. Considering you always had someone doing those tasks for you, you're hopeless at it. He'll swat your hand and show you how to do things right with an annoyed scowl. “No, no, no, no, no! You're doing it all wrong. This is how you do it. What do they even teach you in that palace, huh? Books? Maths? Books about maths? Well, they won't keep you alive, you know!”

Because he's so observant and strict, he's a good teacher, and soon, you get the hang of everything. Before, he had to open his mouth to correct you every few seconds, but now, he can just watch you do his work with his arms crossed. It's a little demeaning to have someone watch your every move, but inside, he's relieved you're finally fitting in and not a complete waste of his time and resources. In reality, he never wanted to send you off and hoped he could just handle an extra mouth to feed. Not that he'll ever tell you.

When you're out and about, he makes you wear a cloak to hide your identity. When he's forced to interact with people, he'll hold you close and play everything off without arousing suspicion. Even if your hood falls off, he won't react--he's screaming inside in panic, but he's a great actor when he needs to be. You're totally not the princess, just a crazy similar doppelganger. The cloak is there so that people don't make a fuss. When they leave, he'll turn to you and scream how much of an idiot you are. But really, he was just worried to death--and you have a feeling he was. So you hug it out and leave him cussing with a red face.

As you two grow closer, his cousin Antonio notices how much he cares about you despite his efforts to hide it. It's a problem. He approaches him and warns that if people found out he was hiding the princess, he would get killed with her. Romano heats up and screams, telling him that he already knew what he got into the second he let you into his home. When he's asked why he's still keeping you around, he responds with, “It's not fair that her parents fucked up, and she has to face the consequences. Just like how I never wanted to run this stupid bakery--I wanted to be a painter, not burn my hands in the kitchen all day!”

Unbeknownst to him, you overhear the conversation. The next morning, he discovers that you're gone and loses his head. While he's screaming and crying, he's swarmed with the possibilities of what happened to you. He's a bit of an overthinker, but his paranoia is deserved--were you taken away in the middle of the night? Are you even still alive? He spirals down a path of self-loathing until he confronts how much he misses you, then his regret of never being frank with his feelings. Romano didn't understand what he had until he lost it. To say this was a wake-up call--to be more honest with himself--would be an understatement.

A week later, you return unscathed. Turns out, you left to stay with the owner of a paint shop owner your family always supported and bought from. You present him with a gift of some high-end oil paints, brushes, and canvases. When he sets them all down, he'll pull you into a tight hug, and once again, tell you how stupid you are. While he has you in his coils, you smile to yourself as you pat his hair, happy that you also got something in return. Some transparency. “I just thought I'd give you something... For all the trouble.” You'd say, and he'd shush you with a few hard kisses. “You were never a trouble. I wanted you to stay, so I'm more to blame than you.”

As the political situation of the country calms down, so do the anxieties of angry neighbors pounding on his door. You return to his home much to his content. Now that you're just as good as him at icing cakes, you spend more time running the bakery. This gives him some time to paint, and he can't be happier. Once you both get settled, he discovers another hobby on top of making art. Making coffee! The bakery evolves into a café lavishly decorated with his paintings, and it becomes the most popular establishment in town. You both realize how overrated it is to want to be anything more--you never bring up your title ever again.

[bigwriterenergy]

STEEL BALL RUN HAREM

anonymous asked: “Maybe you could do a part 7 Harem??? I love this harem series and they're definitely some of my favorites to read!”

VENTO AUERO HAREM / MORIOH HAREM / LA SQUADRA HAREM / STARDUST CRUSADERS HAREM

johnny joestar

main jojo, if real harem, end up with him, yada yada

“stop lookin’ so defeated, pick yourself up.”

out of all the men in the race, no matter if they’re after money or these “corpse parts,” you are certain that, somehow, this man will win whatever he sought after. the fire within his chilling eyes determined the race as soon as they ignited. to say that you were drawn to his unwavering desire to prosper was an understatement. it was rare to see the flames that illuminated the typically cynical jockey, but as they appeared, his resolve became blindingly illuminated.

you were a lone rider in the race, a woman who sought the cash prize and glorification that came with it. it’s only likely that you’d form temporary albeit beneficial alliance, and you were okay with that.

johnny, one who lacked confidence yet maintained tenacity, wasn’t one to forget his goal. he wished to stand on his own two feet again. maybe then he’d be redeemed .. but you regarded him with kind smiles and moments of reassurance. did you view him as an equal?

surprisingly cold. it might make you a bit confused, considering the reserved kindness that he showed to mrs. steel, but he’s on a mission. he can’t fall any harder for you or it’ll jeopardize his mission.

ESPECIALLY annoyed whenever gyro tries to invite you to camp with them. doesn’t understand why you entertain the guy -- he’s kind of rude ..

definitely tries to ignore his feelings towards you. although he’s cold, he’s not necessarily rude. if anything, you might take his behavior as him being shy.

whenever diego manages to rear his ugly head and insult you, johnny is one of the few to actually say something. something quick: “quit it.” or “don’t you got anything better to do?”

“’yer stickin’ around for the night? .. make sure you bundle up. there’s gonna be a cold-front tonight. we can always share a blanket, if need be.”

despite his coldness, you knew that in a life-or-death situation, you’d want johnny right by your side. he doesn’t forget those he cares for. and you’re made aware of this whenever you see him tending to your horse or packing up your supplies for you.

least favorite rival: gyro. he does view gyro as an equal and it’d take a lot more than a pretty girl to mess up his friendship with the italian. regardless, it’s annoying to watch him flirt and tease you so openly. isn’t he worried about the race? they don’t have time to fool around with some girl! -- .. well, maybe just a little time, but he wants to be the one to make you laugh! not gyro.

gyro zeppelli

the not-so innocent cowboy.

boasts that he’s a man of medicine. obviously! it’s something he’s very proud of and women tend to adore a man with a career .. or something like that.

“nyo-ho! little miss (y/n), we’re all camped up now .. you said your back was aching, yes? i’ll just take a quick little look ..”

unfortunately, he won’t let you anywhere near his horse. something about lady luck? you have to respect his wishes or you’ll get a particularly foul mouthed gyro

unlike johnny, gyro will happily show his favoritism towards you. although you’re a contender in the race, you’re a familiar face to him; and that provides comfort to the italian.

“me and johnny just sit around doing nothing -- you add a little spice to our group, i like to think.”

quite a big flirt, whenever he sees the opportunity, he drops his silly guise and happily plays the part of a suave prince.

out of everyone, gyro will probably worry over you the most. it actually shocks johnny -- while usually gyro is the one to call him out on being an idiot, he seems to go the extra mile with you. “you know you’re pushing your horse, right? can you not see that, silly girl?” or “you ran out of food for this checkpoint? what would you do without me?”

you’re the only person he entrusts to sew his teddy bear back together

least favorite rival: diego. why would you go hang around a piece of shit like that? were him and johnny not good enough company -- was he not good enough company? that piece of shit doesn’t give a rat’s ass about you! but he does! wasn’t that good enough? 

diego brando

dio doesn’t often interact with others in the race. at least not in a positive way. the only possible scenario for you two to meet and actually interact would be if one of you needed your skin saved. it’d actually be easier for diego to speak to you if he was the one in trouble.

maybe you two would decide to camp for the night. he was wounded and weak and you really didn’t enjoy riding at night -- “a temporary partnership,” he emphasized, but for some reason, you knew that this wouldn’t be the last time you saw diego brando.

you treated him, a total stranger who, more often than not, treated others with disrespect, with kindness. although his goal was on winning this race, you provided him comfort and a willingness to show your kinder side. didn’t you know how weak you seemed? .. people like that .. they always ended up hurt the most. 

after the first chance encounter, you’d notice him lingering around you at checkpoints more often. sneering at your choice of company. a thin layer of narcissistic phrases to veneer his jealousy. 

“oi -- you barely made it past the checkpoint. you need to chose better companions, bird.”

although you spend most of your time with johnny and gyro, there are chance times where you set up camp with diego. he’ll comment on your smell. it’s very jarring the first time it happens, but he’ll quickly cover up his observation with the excuse of his stand.

“you stink like that joestar -- just what are you doing with those idiots?”

on cold nights, he’ll insist on bundling up with you under some sort of blanket or tarp. something about being cold-blooded? he sounds so genuine .. and he looks so bashful when he asks! you just have to help him!

but he knows exactly what he’s doing. all because he’s in a race doesn’t mean he can���t have a little fun -- at least, that’s what he wants to believe. dio has a difficult time coming to terms with the fact that he actually enjoys your company. not that you’d ever know such a fact.

least favorite rival: johnny. johnny had it all -- having worked on the joestar ranch, diego watched johnny’s descent into greed and lust with careful eyes. perhaps becoming crippled was the perfect thing to humble that pompous rich bastard. while he does hold slight jealousy of how easy johnny’s life was, he thinks that jonathan doesn’t deserve someone so pure and kind. dio thinks that he’s the only person who can give you what you rightfully deserve.

[starryevermore]

A Gift For a Gift

I’m sorry this is so long and if you see any grammatical errors, no you don’t <3 lol anyway I just wanted to write something for you since you write so much for us! Thanks so much Kayla, we love you! (I also cannot for the life of me figure out the read more thing, so I am sorry again lol) (Kayla here! I added a read more for you 🥰)

Colby fucking hated Valentine’s Day. For most of his teenage life, if he saw those stupid hearts and those goddamn teddy bears, he was instantly in a worse mood. Most years, it made sense why he hated the holiday. He’d been single a long time, and even when he had a girlfriend, he hadn’t had the money to give his girl a proper date. He always tried, but it never seemed good enough. His mind would always go back to one year in particular where he’d tried to set up a picnic for a girl in the living room of his house. He was 15 so he had no car or money, and it was Kansas, so there was a foot of snow on the ground anyway. He’d gone all out. He asked his mom to bring home some balloons and flowers and all that gross shit just so the aesthetic was perfect. He then tried to actually cook food. Himself. At fifteen years old. For the first time. When he tells this story and says Mama Brock came running with the fire extinguisher, he’s not kidding. His mom made the meal. 

At the cost of his whole day (and nearly his home), his girlfriend came over and laughed. Not in a cute way or in disbelief, but laughed in his face over his efforts. She picked apart every inch of the room he had decorated and told him it was ugly. Apparently he had used the wrong shade of red? He hadn’t realized that it mattered, but “barnyard red” was not right. She said the balloons were tacky and the flowers were meaningless because they weren’t roses. She refused to eat the meal because it was cold (since she’d shown up an hour late), and then broke up with him on the spot. 

So yeah. Colby fucking hated Valentine’s Day most of the time. This year was different, though. He had met the love of his life. He was convinced you were the one he was supposed to be with all this time. He’d waited and it was worth it. And you loved Valentine’s Day. The pinks and reds made you happier than anything else. He’d never seen someone get so giddy over seeing a pink bear with a heart on it’s foot until he’d met her. Every trip to Target was punctuated with a visit to the dreaded candy section. But he saw you smile at every silly pun on the backs of the card boxes. You laughed at the ridiculous couples games. You hugged at least one bear every time and forced it to hug him too. You were happy. This time of year and celebration made you happy. And damn it that was enough to put aside his petty hatred for this capitalist cash-grab of a holiday and come up with the most kickass Valentine’s Day date he ever could. 

He hadn’t realized how hard that would be. He was a hopeless romantic, but he was also hopelessly self-destructive. He would come up with an idea and every scenario started beautifully in his imagination, but every time each scenario ended with something awful. He thought you two could go to the beach, but then he imagined you falling into the water and getting salt in your eyes. Maybe you two could go to the movies, but then you could get stuck in front of two teenagers who weren’t aware that just because a room is dark, the sounds they were making weren’t audible. 

This cycle went on for a long time. It took so long, he actually forgot what day it was. He’d begun planning the second February hit. He checked the calendar and realized he only had a week until The Day. Fuck. Had it really been a week? He felt like his head was swimming. His final brain cell was short circuiting and his head literally had no thoughts left in it, only fuzz. His head hadn’t felt this empty while still spinning since he’d learned about imaginary numbers in Algebra II. And he’d never actually learned imaginary numbers. Sam took that test for him. Suddenly, he had one thought. 

“I gotta ask Sam.”

Sam Golbach, per usual, had about a million suggestions. Colby reasoned that since he’d had more experience having an actual girlfriend on The Day, Sam should have more ideas than himself. The only issue is that the brain cell Colby had frazzled trying to come up with a date was usually shared between him and Sam, so Sam had all of the same ideas Colby did. He suggested the beach and the movie and the dinner and blah blah blah, so Colby was literally at square one. Sam was supposed to fix all of these issues. He had the brain and the longer relationship, so what the fuck? Why had he picked this time to not have any original idea?

“Colby.” Sam shook Colby’s arm.

“Jesus dude, you scared me. What?”

“You’ve been staring at the carpet for like 30 seconds. I know what it looks like when you’re mentally drifting. That’s the only kind you can do, if our video had anything to prove.” Sam smirked, knowing full well that Colby had taken second place in that challenge. 

“Shut up, dude. You had more time driving manual. I just learned there.” Colby knew his defense was weak, but it was a defense nonetheless.

“And you did well.”

“Don’t patronize me. I killed that car like twelve times. It feels like I’m going to end up doing the same with this relationship.” Colby sighed and rubbed his face. He held his hands there, flush against his cheeks. He could feel himself heating up and the cool metal of his rings, one of which you gave him, always helped keep him grounded. Sam grabbed his shoulder and shook him again.

“Would you shut the fuck up?” 

Colby removed his hands from his face, side-eyeing Sam, surprised “What the hell, Sam?” 

“Someone needed to say it. You’re talking yourself down again. Yeah, you killed the car. But you learned. You’ll do the same thing here. If you mess up, who cares? You tried! You need to realize that perfection isn’t attainable, so stop trying to attain it. You don’t have anything to be afraid of. Anything you do will make her happy. Because it’s you. She loves you. Any situation or plan can go wrong. We of all people should fucking know that. But don’t let fear stop you. You never have before. So what is your problem?” Sam asked, softening the harshness of some of his words by rubbing comforting circles into Colby’s shoulder. 

Sam knew Colby. He knew Colby was afraid. He’d been hurt so many times, and sadly many of those times, the hurt was self-inflicted. Colby held himself to an insane standard that he’d never expect anyone else to live up to, but this was Colby and Colby deserved harsh critique apparently. He refused to let his friend scare himself into doing nothing and then letting that nothing ruin what he had going. (Y/N) and Colby were made for each other. Anything Colby did made your heart swell and just knowing he put in effort would be more than enough. But Colby didn’t know that, or rather, refused to acknowledge that. Sam was getting tired of it. 

“You know her. Just do something she’ll like. Not whatever anyone tells you you should do. She loves you” Sam said, squeezing Colby’s shoulder one more time before dropping his hand to the arm of the chair. Colby smiled and looked at him. 

“Thanks Sam. You’re right, once again. I don’t know how you always know what to say. I love you, dude.”

“Hold up, I’m not your valentine. I said she loved you, not me. Save all that mushy shit for her. You’re wasting your soft energy.” Sam laughed, standing to leave.

“Oh shit, you’re right. Us emo boys can only express positive emotions twice a week and I’ve wasted once on you. How could I be so dumb?” Colby shot sardonically back, returning to his computer to look up restaurants. 

Sam laughed again and walked to the door. He went through and closed it behind him, but Colby knew he was still on the other side, hand on the handle. Colby turned just as Sam quickly stuck his back into the room, quickly whispering “I love you too” before slamming the door again and audibly running down the hall to his room. Colby laughed out loud that time. His friend was an idiot, but they’d be so lost without each other. 

Time to plan the date Colby knew you would like, not the date that was in the movies. He still hated Valentine’s Day. 

——————————————————————————————————————————-

Well everything was going to shit, just as Colby had feared. He had been so proud of himself. He thought of an amazing night. First, you two were going to go to your favorite restaurant and have the meal you’d been saying you craved for two weeks. He’d even called the place ahead of time, asking if they could play your song at a certain time, since they had a live band. He may have had to use some of that influencer clout to get that request, but it was okay. Did he feel like an absolute rat that just ran through the New York City sewer system for doing it? Absolutely. Would he ever do it again? If you asked him to, probably. But not for a long time. 

However, what had failed to happen was a valid reservation. It was Valentine’s Day in Los Angeles, after all. There would be no place in the whole city that wasn’t booked to full capacity. Colby knew that. That’s why he made the reservation directly after his talk with Sam. A week ago. The restaurant accidentally double booked your table. And the other couple had come before you two. Directly before you. As in they were the ones in front of you in line. 

“Well, is there anything we can do?” Colby asked

“Not really, the whole place is booked all night. I’m so sorry. You’ll get a full refund?” The hostess looked down and cringed, seemingly preparing for the Karen reaction. You and Colby just looked at each other and looked back at her apologetically. It must be hell to work here on The Day and deal with all of these rich assholes with an elitist complex. Which is exactly what you said to her. She just laughed lightly and brushed it off, but you and Colby saw the look of acknowledgement in her eyes. You both said your thank yous and goodbye while walking towards the main sidewalk where you’d parked. That had gone right, at least. You both were ecstatic that you’d actually found reasonable, legal parking close to the restaurant in downtown LA. That was a feat.  

Or at least, Colby thought the spot was legal. The ticket on his windshield begged to differ.

“What the hell? We were gone for like ten minutes!” Colby exclaimed, annoyed but impressed at the dedication of the PEO in the area. 

You laughed heartily. Colby’s little cloud of poor luck seemingly didn’t take a holiday. Just one of the nuances you loved about him. You’d always have a story. You could see the doubt creeping into his face and you were about to reprimand it, but you faintly heard your favorite song playing in the distance. The band inside had taste! You gasped and smacked his arm, flapping your other hand excitedly.

“Listen!” You said, pulling him back from the car and taking his hands.

Colby looked down and checked his watch.

“7:45. That’s right.” He flicked his eyes up to your face, coughing awkwardly as he rubbed his neck.

“You planned that?” You smiled, taking his hand back again and pulling him a little closer.

“Yeah… I tried anyway. I planned to be able to hear it a little better, but this is a lesson in using Instagram followers for special treatment I guess.” 

You laughed again and wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling him close to you. 

“Well, don’t ever do that again obviously, but let’s dance like we did that one time the bouncer wasn’t convinced we were old enough to get into the club.” He giggled at that, remembering the look of bewilderment you two shared when Sam and Kat walked in with no issue. Of course you’d both forgotten your IDs that night. You decided to dance right outside anyway. 

“Okay, but aren’t I supposed to be the one taking the lead?” 

“Fuck gender roles.” You smiled, pulling him even closer and tucking your head beneath his chin, swaying him to the song playing from inside. He laughed again and let you move him around. He wasn’t good at dancing on his own anyway, so maybe you leading was the better decision. He was just letting things happen, slowly allowing himself to just let go and enjoy dancing with you. He felt silly and like he’d failed already, but he was keeping it together. There was still more planned. Where he couldn’t keep his poker face was when you -attempted- to spin him but actually just smacked his face with his own arm. You both giggled lightly and you decided to seal the deal with a sorry attempt at a dip. You forgot that he was taller than you, so gravity decided to join the forces against you two that night. Thankfully you were both near the car still, because Colby was able to keep both of you from the pavement by hitting his back against the door and grabbing onto the handle. You both were laughing hysterically at this point, unable to really form coherent sentences. 

“Just get in the car,” You got out eventually, wiping the tears from your eyes. “And never tell anyone.”

“I don’t plan on it.” Colby said, opening the door for you.

“This is one of the chivalrous acts that I will accept, so don’t ever stop doing that.” You joked, kissing his cheek lightly as you got in.

“Note taken.” Colby laughed, closing the door behind you.

“So Romeo, now that the masquerade is bust, where are we headed?” You asked once he got in and started driving.

“I know that was supposed to be a reference, but I haven’t thought about that play since I was twelve,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “Anyway, we’re going somewhere I think of when I think of you.”

You smiled softly at him with that. This boy was a big ol’ softie and he really pretends he’s not. You never bought it. He was incredibly sentimental and sweet, so you knew that wherever you all were going was going to mean a lot to him. Therefore, it would mean a lot to you too. 

You were driving for a long time. You were no longer anywhere close to downtown and you couldn’t help but ask a million questions. Where are we going? Are we there yet? Why are we going here? Where are we going?

“You’ve already asked that.” Colby smiled, endeared by your only-child behavior but slightly annoyed nonetheless. 

“You got me there, Brock. But where are we going?” Colby groaned, leaning forward into the wheel. He reached to his phone and handed it to you with the Aux cord. 

“Please, pick something and stop asking!” 

You smirked and went to his music. Usually, you would go straight to the songs you wanted, but you were being nosy. You decided to go to his playlists and see what he had saved. You were scrolling past the expected “editing” list or the “late night” playlists, but stopped when you saw it. The most recently added list was one simply titled, “Her” with a small heart next to it, the black one of course. You cocked your eyebrow and clicked it. You started looking through the songs and saw all of the songs you’ve recommended to him over your relationship, along with some outliers. You glanced over at him, seeing if he was paying attention. 

He wasn’t. His brain was going at a million miles an hour. He felt like a comeplete fuck up. How was he the one table that was double booked? How had they managed to hit intense traffic at eight and made this drive take half an hour? How were you not bored out of your mind? There’s no way you were having any fun. He continued to stew in these intense thoughts when he’s snapped back to reality by the opening chords of Chasing Cars by Snow Patrol.

Shit. She found it. He thought. He risked a glance at you, blushing bright red. Please don’t…

You were smiling widely at him. “You have a playlist for me?” 

“Oh god.”

The rest of the drive flew by, you two screaming lyrics at the top of your lungs once Colby’s embarrassment faded. It reminded you of the first time you had hung out, just you two. You’d discovered a mutual love for early 2000’s emo music, so you two screamed your voices away to the sweet dynamics of My Chemical Romance and Fall Out Boy until two that morning. You smiled quietly, remembering the fun of that day. You knew this was one special dumbass that day, especially after figuring out he had misheard “down in an earlier round” from Sugar, We’re Going Down as “down on a merry-go-round” for literal years. You had scream-laughed at that and corrected him, laughing even harder as the realization spread across his face. 

“Holy shit.” He’d whispered. “It’s been years…” 

“Hey, we’re here.” Colby startled you out of your daydream. You smiled at him as he climbed out of the car and sprinted to open your door. You laughed, remembering your comments at the restaurant. He opened the door and let you out, beginning the walk towards the location. You recognized this location. It was the neighborhood of the chandelier tree from one of his earliest vlogs. You had seen it and begged for him to take you there. It seemed so cute. You smiled widely at him, placing your hand in his. You swung his hand lightly as you walked, knowing it drove him crazy.

“Would you stop that?” he playfully asked, feigning annoyance. You responded by swinging his arm as far back as you could, saying,

“Careful Brock. Watch the tone or I’ll try and dip you again.”

“I thought we weren’t supposed to talk about that?” He asked cheekily, taking the piss. 

You laughed again and smacked his arm as you turned the corner to the tree. Or the location of the tree, as there were no chandeliers. 

“What?” Colby asked, mostly to himself. You both looked at each other, confused. You got closer, deciding to let go of each other’s hands as Colby went ahead, trying to see if it was just around another corner or if he was on the wrong block. You pulled out your phone and asked Google.

“Oh, baby. They took this down last month!” You frowned, calling out to him.

“Seriously?” Colby asked, clearly disappointed. Another fuck up. He hadn’t even thought to look up if it was still here or not “Shit.”

You could see the wheels in his head turning, trying to figure out what to say. You were about to reassure him when he lights up, turning to you and exclaiming,

“The park! That pretty lookout Sam and I used to go to all the time! It’s like ten minutes from here, we could go there. I’m sure it’s awesome right now.”

You smiled and were nodding in agreement when a loud bang made the two of you jump ten feet. You looked quizzically at each other when your mutual question was answered by a sudden downpour of rain and flash of lightning. A thunderstorm, of fucking course. Colby removed his jacket, holding it above your head as you both made a break for the car. 

After your dead sprint, you both sat in your seat, heaving breaths and looking out in pure wonder. You looked over to Colby, ready to laugh at the absurdity of the whole night when you saw him slumped forward on the wheel, refusing to look at you, shoulders shaking slightly. 

“Colby, baby, are you okay?” you asked lightly, grabbing his arm. He turned even farther away, opting to lean his head against his window to cool his heating face. He refused to let you see the single tear that was leaving his eye. 

“I’m sorry.” was all he muttered.

You were shocked. “Baby, you don’t control the weather. If you did, I’d be pissed you haven’t fixed global warming yet.” You attempted to joke. He didn’t laugh.

“I failed again. I just wanted to make something special for you. I know you love Valentine’s Day and it means a lot to you. I hate this fucking holiday but I wanted to make you happy. But I fucked it up. Just like I do everything. I mean, it’s raining! In L.A.! What the fuck! There’s nowhere open that’s not booked and it’s already nine and I haven’t even gotten you food and you probably have never had a worse valentine’s-” he tried to rant, but you covered his mouth with your hand. His eyes darted to you, surprised. 

You were beyond hurt. You couldn’t believe he didn’t see how much fun you were having or how much pressure he’d put on himself to make everything perfect. You should’ve guessed as much. You reached your other hand around the back of his neck, moving the one from his mouth to his cheek, kissing him. 

“Would you shut the fuck up?” you said, pulling back. He barked a short laugh out, surprised.

“You know, you’re not the first one to tell me that about this whole thing.”

“You talked to Sam about this date?”

“How’d you know?” He looked at you again, fully flabbergasted. You laughed.

“Do you talk to anyone else about stuff important to you?” He shrugged, clearly thinking it through. 

“Other than you, no, not really.”

“Anyway, he’s right. I don’t care that stuff didn’t work out. You put more thought into this night than anyone else has ever put into any date I’ve ever been on. You poured your heart into it. You thought every little thing through. You tried. And even when things didn’t work out, we had fun. We reminisced on our relationship so far. We danced, screamed songs, and ran through the rain. You tried to give me a super involved date. You gave me a damn movie instead.” 

Colby scoffed at the irony in that. He did exactly what he was trying not to do. Fairly typical. You swiped your thumb across his cheek, getting his attention again.

“You’re drifting, stay with me.” Colby laughed and rolled his eyes. You stilled your thumb, confused.

“You and Sam are literally on the same wavelength.” 

“Or we are the ones who know you best. I think I’ve got him beat on the loving you, though,” you paused. “Maybe.” 

You both chuckled again.

“But seriously, Colbs, if you’re here, I’m happy. You make anything fun. That’s why I’m in love with you. I know you think about everything and try your fucking hardest. You are the sweetest man I know. That’s why I picked you. Remember, I had a line of suitors waiting,” you winked, knowing Colby knew that all too well.

“God, don’t remind me.” He groaned. He leaned his cheek into your hand, allowing you to hold him. That’s how you knew he loved you. He let his guard down and let you love him. He doesn’t do that for many, and you knew that. You loved that he let you in. He lightly kissed the hand that was still caressing his cheek, smiling when you pulled him close again. You two stayed like that for a while, kissing softly while the rain pattered against your windows. It really was like a movie. The gray, swirling clouds and soft wisps of the wind lulled you both into a serene sense of young love. You belong here. This was you two. Shit was going to go wrong. And you were going to love each other through it. That’s what made you two special. You don’t want perfection. You want each other. 

“So,” Colby said softly as he pulled back. “How’s about we pick up some In-And-Out and binge watch Attack on Titan in the big theatre?” You smiled again, squeezing the back of his neck one more time.

“Fuck yeah.”

So, that’s what you all did. And it was the best night ever, just you two being goofy and in love. And okay, Colby may be coming around to Valentine’s Day. Or maybe it’s just you. He thinks it’s just you. Either way, he can’t wait to spend the rest of them just like this.

[captainseaweedbrains]

The Dance of the Color Guard, Op. 64 Ch. 4

Katniss and Peeta used to be best friends when they were kids, but now in high school, they're barely on speaking terms. It isn't until they are forced together as the titular star-crossed lovers for their marching band's field show that they will have to face their past mistakes and try to get along if they ever hope of defeating the notorious Capitol Height's Imperial Marching Crusaders in competition.

It's all about winning and if that means pretending to be in love with Peeta Mellark, so be it.

A/N: Thank you to @rosegardeninwinter​ for editing and helping push me to finish! You are the best and any mistakes found are mine. :) 

Start at the beginning on Ao3: X

Ch. 4 Ao3: X

June

“Peeta really isn’t that bad,” Madge said for what felt like the millionth time. Katniss rolled her eyes and flipped the page of her magazine. Ever since learning that Peeta was going to be the Romeo to Katniss’ Juliet, Madge had been defending him every chance she got. “He’s really not. And he’s so smart, Katniss. Picks up on things real quickly. So all this moping around you’ve been doing all week is stupid.”

Katniss frowned and shoved her sunglasses further up her nose, preferring the screams of the children running around them on the pool deck to Madge defending Peeta Mellark to her once again. Was she being overly dramatic about this? Maybe. Was Madge right that Peeta wasn’t as bad as she made him out to be? Perhaps. But it still sucked and she couldn’t stop complaining about it.

“I know you’re Team Peeta,” she sighed, “but would it kill you to see things from my perspective just this once? Isn’t that what girl friends are supposed to do? Side with their other girl friends?”

“Maybe if you were right about him being a bad person, I would,” Madge sniffed, picking up her own gossip magazine to flip through. “But as of right now, you’ve provided me no evidence in support of your claim.” It was times like these Katniss wished her friend wasn’t the daughter of a prestigious lawyer.

“Gale sides with me,” she argued, pointing at her tall friend standing in line between two twelve-year-old kids for their slushies. “Doesn’t that count for anything on my behalf?”

“Gale’s an idiot.”

“An idiot you’re dating.” Madge stuck her tongue out at that, unable to refute her long-standing relationship with Gale and Katniss smiled. Of all the relationships she’d seen throughout the years—and band romances had provided plenty of weird, random romances, the weirdest being Johanna Mason and Melinda “Cashmere” Hewitt—Madge and Gale’s was the only one she saw that made no sense on paper yet made complete sense in person. The spoiled rich girl with a heart of gold and the rough-around-the-edges boy from the bad part of town? She never used to buy it in the movies, thinking the concept too ridiculous, but Madge and Gale proved her wrong time and time again.

Even when they had broken up sophomore year, claiming they were just too different, Katniss was still proven wrong because they couldn’t shut up about each other—griping about how she just didn’t understand and he always has to be right and I can’t believe I lost my virginity to that, a fact Katniss could have gone her whole life not knowing. When they got back together, it was hard to say who was more thrilled about it: the happy couple or Katniss.

“Come on, Madge,” she sighed, flopping back in her lounge seat. “Why must you always be the diplomatic one?”

“Someone has to be between your impulsiveness and Gale’s anarchy attitude.

“Did someone say anarchy?” the anarchist himself joked, handing Madge her lime-flavored slushie with a kiss on the lips for a tip. He handed Katniss her watermelon one and jokingly asked where his tip was. Katniss threw her three dollars at him with a “Keep the change” rebuttal. Gale laughed and pocketed the cash, lifting Madge’s legs up and over onto his lap so he could sit.

“So what did I miss?”

Madge snorted and offered her boyfriend a sip of her slushie. “Here’s a hint: it’s Katniss’ favorite subject.”

Gale rolled his eyes and accepted the drink. “Mellark again?” He took a large sip and winced at the sudden brain freeze, handing the large cup back. “God, I’m so sick of hearing about that guy. Katniss, get over it and move on already.” Even Gale was getting sick of her talking about it? Somehow, that hit lower on the pathetic scale. Gale was her complaining companion. Her bitch buddy. The person she reserved all her annoyances for because she knew he’d have his own trivial things to complain about. Hell, their friendship was founded upon complaining, starting in 8th Grade Science when their teacher kept giving them busy work to cope with the very public scandal of his wife sleeping with their school principal. They complained about everything with each other.

And now even Gale had said enough.

Well this sucked.

“Fine,” she said, not really feeling fine about it. “I won’t talk about it anymore.” Her friends looked doubtful. “I mean it! No more talk of Peeta Mellark and how my whole summer is practically ruined because I have to have extra practices to teach him how to dance on the field. And I’m not going to talk about how that cuts into my shifts at Aunt LuLu’s store, which means my spending money is going to be next to nothing by the time school starts. So if you two ever want to do anything more fun than hanging around the school parking lot, I guess you’re shit out of luck.”

Gale smiled sweetly at Madge. “I’m so glad she’s not talking about it anymore.” Katniss scowled and gave them the middle finger, causing them both to laugh.

“I think you both are very biased over this whole thing,” Katniss said after a while. Gale and Madge didn’t say anything, too focused on tanning and summer reading homework. That didn’t seem to stop Katniss from continuing. “You’re both too friendly with him because of classes and band. He’s gotten to you.”

“One of us is biased,” Gale said, “and it’s not us. It’s you. You’ve hated him for as long as I’ve known you.”

“With good reason!” she huffed, crossing her arms. They didn’t ask her to elaborate on that, already making it clear they were done talking about Peeta Mellark and all the annoyances he brought to her life, and she hated the fact that she did want to keep talking about him. About marching band. About the whole stupid situation. But she kept her promise and kept her mouth shut. 

No one said anything further until Madge declared herself starving and Gale suggested they stuff their faces with greasy burgers and fries at Sae’s.

**********

Sae’s Diner was packed with its usual lunch crowd—men and women from the factories nearby on lunch, sitting at the worn pastel-colored counter; a couple of kids they recognized from school goofing off in the corner booth, shooting straw wrappers off the straws; and a book club filled with women in their fifties discussing some brick of a book over coffee and Sae’s famous blueberry and cream pie sitting in the center of the small diner. The old woman herself smiled warmly at them when they’d walked in, asking if they were wanting the usual. 

“You’re the best, Sae,” Gale thanked as they waved and headed to their booth next to the front door. 

As they waited for their cheeseburgers and chocolate milkshakes, Gale chatted about some war movie he and his brothers saw that sounded god awful boring, no matter how much he tried re-explaining the plot to them. Madge and Katniss rolled their eyes and told him if he wanted to see the movie again so badly, to go see it by himself. “I’m not going to the movies by myself like some weirdo,” he scoffed, taking his hands off the table as the waitress deposited their plates of food and drinks. 

“Why not?” Katniss asked, picking up a french fry to dip into her milkshake. “I do it all the time.” 

“Because you hate people.” 

“So do you.” He shrugged, not having much to argue there, and picked up his burger. 

“So what time is Trinket summoning you tomorrow?” Gale asked, changing the subject completely, and tearing into his burger. Grease dripped down his hands and Madge tossed a pile of napkins at him. He accepted with a smile and slid his side of pickles over to her, something he purposely ordered more of because he knew how much she liked them. Madge happily bit into one, her eyes gazing at him with such adoration, Katniss rolled her eyes. Their coupling was too much for her sometimes. 

“I thought you didn’t want me talking about marching band,” she said innocently enough, taking a bite into her own burger.

“I didn’t want you talking about Mellark,” he said pointedly, wagging a fry at her. “Marching band is different. Less annoying and less boy drama. So what time does Miss Cream Puff have you coming in?”

It irritated her that Gale simplified her great dislike for Peeta Mellark as mere boy drama because it was far more complicated than that, but there was no point trying to explain it to Gale. He understood a lot about her, but when it came to Peeta… Well, it was best to let him believe whatever he wanted. “Eight a.m. sharp,” she said sourly, dipping another french fry into her milkshake.

Gale winced. “That sucks. Why so early?” 

“Peeta couldn’t get out of working his afternoon shifts and it was either that or not have a single weekend off until November.” She was still bitter about the change in schedule. Originally Miss Trinket wanted them twice a week outside of color guard’s normal rehearsal times, but with Peeta’s work schedule not being as flexible as Katniss’, she’d decided to make it morning rehearsals and make those shorter, which forced them to add another day of rehearsal to make up for the cut time. Now instead of having rehearsal four times a week, Katniss had five with her weekends full of shifts at Aunt LuLu’s shop for the extra cash she desperately needed. This summer was going to blow.

“I still think you should’ve been picked for Juliet,” Katniss told Madge teasingly. “You and Gale, maybe?” she cooed. “The true star-crossed lovers of Athens Ridge.” 

Gale scowled. “I’d rather drop dead than have to deal with Trinket when she’s in choreographer mode. She’s a total tyrant.” 

“She’s not so bad once you get used to her.” 

“Tell me what you think after dealing with her for a whole season, oh captain, my captain.” 

Point taken.

Much like at the pool, they talked for a bit about things going on in their lives—Madge taking some online French class because her grades last semester weren’t great; Gale’s successful find for parts with Thom in the junkyard. Katniss didn’t say much as she munched on her burger and fries, afraid Madge would lecture her again on Peeta Mellark and her inability to let things go with him. That and she promised she was done talking about him. But outside of marching band and him, not much was going on in her life. She felt a bit pathetic about that. 

Conversation picked up when Sae came over, asking how things were doing. The three smiled at the old woman, happy to fill her in on all the small details of their lives. Sae was the unofficial grandmother of the Seam. Always there to show her support for her kiddos. Her small diner was covered with pictures of sports teams she’s sponsored over the years, pictures of her and kids dressed in dance gear, holding certificates. 

“Did you hear the news about Katniss, Sae?” Madge asked when the topic of marching band came up. Sae was always interested in that, loving watching her talented kids play as they wove around the field. “She’s going to be our Juliet this year! Isn’t that exciting?” 

Sae’s grey eyes warmed, turning to Katniss. “Is that so? Captain and the lead part?” She shook her head in astonishment, her salt and peppered colored hair coming loose from her hair tie. “You were always so talented with those flags. I’m not surprised. Who’s your Romeo?” 

“Peeta Mellark.” The name felt lodged in her throat, but thankfully, it squeezed out without too much of a squeak in her voice. 

Sae didn’t know all the kids on the west side, but she definitely knew Peeta. He would often tag along with her and her dad on their trips to the woods, stopping at the diner after for hot chocolate and pie. In fact, his picture was one of the first ones you saw coming in—Sae and six-year-old Peeta smiling at the camera, her arm around him as he proudly held up his lost baby tooth. Her dad had taken the picture, she remembered, and if the camera’s lens had shifted a little more to the right, it would have also captured five-year-old Katniss pouting on the side, upset that he kept losing his baby teeth when she’d lost none. It was a picture her gaze avoided whenever they visited Sae’s, unable to stomach the sight of an old friend turned asshole, the memory of her dad’s laughter as he took the photo. 

“Oh, Peeta,” Sae chuckled, the familiar twinkle she always got in her eyes when he was around. The old woman doted on him when they were kids and he ate up her attention like there was no tomorrow. “How is that boy? Staying out of mischief, I hope?” 

Gale and Madge looked to her with knowing smiles, wondering what she would say. Katniss cleared her throat and looked down at her half-eaten plate for a moment. “Fine, I guess. We don’t hang out anymore. You know that, Sae.” 

She did know that, but it never stopped her from asking whenever he came up. “Aye, girl, I do. I suppose you aren’t happy with Effie Trinket’s choice, then?” 

Gale snorted. “Happy? More like obsessively pissed. She hasn’t shut up about it since May.” She glared at her friend and he shrugged, popping a fry in his mouth. “What? You haven’t.” 

Sae gave one of her warm, crooked teeth smiles. “Maybe this is the push you kiddos need to kiss and make up.” Katniss’ cheeks warmed at the mention of kisses, remembering Leevy’s comment how they were so going to have sex by the end of the year. She still hadn’t fully forgiven her friend for that suggestion.

“I’m afraid that’s impossible, Sae,” she said, her voice still a little strained. “We’re just too different.”  

“Ah, well. I suppose we grow in different directions sometimes,” the woman sighed with a shake of her head. A woman from the book club table called for her and Sae gave them a parting wave and smile. “Tell Peeta ol’ Sae misses her boy and that he needs to come in more. I haven’t seen him in ages.”

Katniss pointedly avoided Gale and Madge’s amused smirks, focusing on the burger in front of her. “I’ll be sure to pass the message along,” she muttered, taking a big bite of her food to avoid continuing this conversation. She loved Sae. Thought of her like a grandmother. But there was no way in hell was she telling Peeta that. No way. Then he’d think she was gushing about him to anyone who would listen, thrilled to be his Juliet, a role many girls at school would kill for (Probably. Maybe. She thinks.), and then his stupid ego would just get bigger and he’d be even more obnoxious to deal with. No, best not to mention anything and lie next time she saw Sae. 

A small part felt guilty at that, though, because Sae was like a grandma who wanted the best for her, and Peeta too, she guessed, but again, Sae didn’t know what happened between them. And Katniss wasn’t going to fill her in on their broken history six years too late. 

Her phone next to her plate vibrated, signifying a text message just came in. Wiping her greasy hands, Katniss frowned, picking up her phone. Who was texting her? Everyone who’d text her was either sitting right across from her or were busy at work or camp. The little text message lit up at her touch, showing it was from an unknown number, and her frown turned into a scowl as she read it. 

Hey!!!!!!!!!1!1111!!!!!!! the message read with a thousand typo-filled exclamation marks. God, who text like that? Trinket gave me ur ######## Hope thats cool. Thought Id give mine!!!!!!!111111 🤗 Ill see u  Mon dearest Juliet ❤️❤️❤️❤️!!!!!!!!!!!!111!😘😘😘😘!!!111!!!!!! 

For the briefest of seconds, Katniss swore her vision blacked out. One moment she was staring at her phone. The next, darkness. Like her brain couldn’t process the simple text on her phone and chose to shut down instead. When her vision cleared, the message was still there, glaring brightly at her with those thousand exclamation/number marks. 

Peeta Mellark texted her. He had her number.

         Her stomach churned and now she feared that what her mother always warned about Sae’s greasy food would come true now and she’d throw it all up. 

Peeta Mellark texted her. It was truly official. He had her number and she had his and they were partners now. If she had any doubts about this whole thing before—as if she had dreamt the last four weeks of her life—they were wiped clean now. Replaced with this typo-filled text message from the very boy who hurt her. 

“You okay?” Madge asked.

Katniss nodded and clicked out of the message, tossing the phone into her bag. She’d deal with it later.

[zootopiathingz]

Into the Wilde

Meet (Not So) Cute

There are many steps of a hustle. The first one being that you have to have the confidence to actually do it. Not a lot of mammals I know have the guts to try. But when you're like me and you've been doing it since you learned how to talk, it basically becomes your whole personality. My lifeline is based on tricking other animals to get what I need so I can sell my product and earn some money. At first I wasn't proud of this, but now I've gotten used to it after 20 years.

Today's just another day of work for me. I'm going to meet up with my business partner, Finnick, at an elephant ice cream parlor to scam our way into getting a giant popsicle. Then we're going to resell it as our own branded "pawpsicles", and to earn some extra cash we'll sell the leftover sticks to some construction workers, maybe some rodents. It sounds convoluted but it's worked so far. I don't see why today should be any different.

Right about at noon, I make my towards the ice cream parlor known as Jumbeaux's Café. Sure, the place is meant for bigger animals, but that's the point. We need the biggest popsicle we can get so we can melt it down to smaller sized treats. And so no one suspects us, we have the perfect story that's sure to fool the owner.

As I cross the street, a Fresh Doe truck drives right past me, nearly running me over. I look back at the ram driving it, and he shouts at me to watch where I'm going. What an asshole. Eh, I expected him to blame me for it. Everyone in Zootopia's always blaming the fox. That's just how it is.

Moving on, I walk in front of the café, but I have to make sure no one's watching me. You can never be too careful with this kind of stuff. Once the coast is clear, I follow an elephant lady inside, and now begins the plan. I see Finnick waiting for me by the door, wearing an elephant onesie costume.

Finnick and I go way back. I've known him since I started doing this type of business. He showed me the ropes and was the first to suggest that we do this together. At first I didn't want to, since I was dead set on becoming independent. But after a few years I decided to accept his offer, since we could make twice as much money working together than by ourselves. Besides, what was the harm in having a friend? Well, we never exactly referred to each other like that, but that's pretty much what he is.

He walks past me to get in line, murmuring, "Let's get this over with." I follow him quickly and we make our way towards the front of the line, and since we're smaller than the elephants, no one notices that we cut.

The owner (I think his name is Jerry, so I'll call him that) turns around to take another order. He almost doesn't even see Finnick and me, so I have to call out to him to get his attention. He looks down at us, and I see in his face that he's not happy. I don't need to guess why.

"Can I help you?" He asks, eyeing me up and down. I get why it would be weird for a fox to buy something from a shop for elephants, but damn, he hasn't even heard me say anything and just assumes I'm up to no good.

"Yes sir, I'd like to buy a jumbo pop, please." I say politely.

Apparently I wasn't polite enough, since he just glares at me. I can tell he's observing my behavior very closely, so I try to stand still in the least suspicious way possible.

"Listen, I don't know what you're doing skulking around during daylight hours, but I don't want any trouble in here." He says. "So hit the road!"

Geez, if this is how he treats customers, then it's a mystery why this place has a four-star rating. But I want to avoid arguing with him, at least not aggressively. That would get me nowhere. I have to keep up an act. "I'm not looking for any trouble either, sir." I say in my own defense, "I simply wanna buy a jumbo pop," I gesture down to Finnick, who trots to my side. "for my little boy."

Yeah, the plan is to pretend we were a father and son. Acting cute and pulling on heartstrings is the best way to hustle, so that was our usual routine. I bend down to ask Finnick, "You want the red or the blue, pal?"

He walks up to the glass displaying the three jumbo pops. As expected, he points toward the red one. We always got red, it was just how we liked it and it always sold the best.

Jerry, however, just shoos him away with his trunk. "Okay, come on, kid. Back up." He looks down at me, "Listen buddy, what? There aren't any fox ice cream joints in your part of town?"

"Uh, no, no. There are, there are. It's just, my boy," I pat Finnick on the head. "this goofy little stinker, he loves all things elephant, wants to be one when he grows up."

Finnick pulls up the hood of his costume, which has the ears and the trunk of an elephant. It even has its own trumpet, which he uses now to emphasize my point. "Is that adorable?" I ask as he leans against my leg. "Who the heck am I to crush his little dreams, huh? Right?"

But Jerry isn't impressed. Honestly, he could not care less, it seems. "Look, you probably can't read, fox," He takes a sign and points at it with his trunk, "But the sign says 'we reserve the right to refuse service to anyone'! So beat it!"

Refusing service to someone because they want a jumbo pop seems extreme to me, but hey, I'm not a café owner. Still, we can't give up yet. We need that jumbo pop, and we have to get it one way or another.

"You're holding up the line." An elephant lady says as she pushes me from behind.

Finnick trumpets sadly and I rub the top of his head 'sympathetically'. We have to appear as cute and as sad as possible now, so maybe we can be pitied by Jerry or another one of the workers. But these elephants have no mercy. Great. Now how are we supposed to sell today? There aren't any other ice cream parlors that sell big enough popsicles that we can get in time.

Suddenly, I hear a voice from beside me. "Hello? Excuse me?"

I turn around to see a bunny speaking to the owner. She's wearing a hat and an orange mesh vest, so I guess she does parking duty. Why she's even here is beyond me, but I get the sneaking feeling it has something to do with me and Finnick.

"Hey, you're gonna have to wait your turn just like everyone else, meter maid." Jerry says to her.

"Actually, I'm an officer." She says, pulling back her vest strap to show off her badge. Huh, that's weird. I didn't think they let bunnies on the police force. Then again if she's doing parking duty, she must be new. Makes sense. Police work isn't meant for animals like her.

"Just had a quick question," She goes on, speaking a little louder. "Are your costumers aware they're getting snot and mucus with their cookies 'n cream?"

A couple elephants sitting nearby hear this, one even spits out his ice cream all over the other's face. I have to hold in a laugh.

Jerry looks down at her confused, "What are you talkin' about?"

"Well, I don't wanna cause you any trouble, but I believe scooping ice cream with an ungloved trunk is a class-three health code violation." The bunny says, "Which is kind of a big deal."

Wait, is she trying to help me? She might also be trying to help out the customers by not getting snot in their ice cream. But still, she just randomly shows up while I'm trying to buy a jumbo pop for my 'son'. It can't be a coincidence, right?

Jerry glares at her for a moment before she continues, "Of course I can let you off with a warning if you were to glove those trunks and, I don't know," She gestures for me to step forward, in which I oblige. "Finish selling this nice dad and his son a...what was it?" She whispers to me.

"A jumbo pop." I say, smiling up at the owner. "Please."

"A jumbo pop." The bunny repeats.

Wow, I honestly did not expect anyone to actually help us. I was starting to think our little ruse wasn't going to fool anyone. I almost feel bad that we're having to trick her, too.

Jerry sighs in defeat, deciding to give in. And I don't blame him. "15 dollars."

"Thank you so much." I say, then nod at the bunny. "Thank you."

But as I reach into my pocket, I'm surprised to feel nothing there. Or so, that's how it looks to the others. Of course I have my wallet with me, I'm not an idiot. It's just all part of the ploy. "Oh no, are you kidding me? I don't have my wallet!" I chuckle nervously, pretending to be frustrated with myself. "I'd lose my head if it weren't attached to my neck. That's the truth. Oh boy," I sigh and kneel down to Finnick, "I'm sorry, pal. Gotta be about the worst birthday ever."

I might have improvised that part, only to further guilt the animals around us. Hey, a fox has to have a little fun.

"Please don't be mad at me." I say, cupping Finnick's face in my paws, kissing his head. I know he hates that, but I have to do whatever it takes. I stand back up and take his paw. "Thanks anyway." I say sadly to the bunny before walking out of the line. I can feel Finnick trying to reach out to the jumbo pop, probably pouting like a child.

Before I can even walk out the door, I hear someone slam something onto the counter. Not to my surprise, the bunny pays for the jumbo pop for us. I'm surprised she actually fell for our little fib. She really is a rookie.

After we're given the red jumbo pop, the three of us walk outside the café. Finnick holds the bunny's paw while I carry the jumbo pop over my shoulder, surprisingly it's easy to lift. Just a few pounds heavier than myself.

"Officer, I can't thank you enough. So kind, really." I say to her, "Can I pay you back?"

As I get a better look at her, I catch a glimpse of something in her belt. It looks red, maybe pink-ish. But just from that one glance, I can already tell exactly what it is. I've seen it many times in my life. Hell, I'm used to seeing it almost everyday. Fox repellent.

Of course a bunny would be carrying that around. They were all afraid of us. But then why did she help me when she obviously isn't fond of foxes? I guess she's just trying to make herself feel better. Now I feel less guilty about tricking her.

"Oh no, my treat." She answers, releasing Finnick's paw. "It just— you know, it burns me up to see folks with such backward attitudes toward foxes."

Really? Then explain that fox repellent, two-faced meter maid.

"I just wanna say you're a great dad and just a..." She pauses to find the right words. "A real articulate fella."

"Well, that is high praise." I put a paw to my chest, deciding to play along. "It's rare that I find someone so non-patronizing. Officer...?" I ask, hinting that I want to know her name.

"Hopps." She tips her hat. Of course she has a last name like that. "Mr...?"

"Wilde. Nick Wilde." I hold out my paw, and she gladly shakes it.

I probably should've used a fake name so this can't be traced back to me. But I'm not worried. It's not like she's a real cop, anyway. And I'm not doing anything illegal, so it doesn't matter.

She bends down to look at Finnick, smiling widely. "And you, little guy, you wanna be an elephant when you grow up? You be an elephant. Because this is Zootopia." She pulls out a sticker from her pocket and places it on his chest. "Anyone can be anything."

Now I know she's not from around here. Anyone who actually grew up in Zootopia would know that that stupid saying doesn't mean jack shit. You can't just be whatever you want. God, someone needs to open her eyes and introduce her to the real world. Oh well, she'll figure that out soon enough.

"Ah, boy. I tell him that all the time." I say, then hand the jumbo pop down for Finnick to hold. "Alright, here ya go. Two paws!" He holds up the jumbo pop easily, probably better than me since he's actually stronger despite his size. "Oh yeah, look at that smile! That's a happy birthday smile! All right, give her a little bye-bye toot-toot!"

Finnick toots twice, and the bunny mimicks the sound with a small laugh.

"Bye now!" I say as I turn around, walking along the sidewalk with Finnick.

"Goodbye!" She says, but I don't bother to turn around to see if she waves. I honestly don't care less.

Well, that was a painfully long five minutes. But it worked. Now it's time to move into phase two of our popsicle procedure.

[okayshin]

ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴɴᴏɴs

✉ how they choose their darling 

⤹ yandere!au

⤹ pretty boy setter edition 

⤹ ft. akaashi, kageyama, kenma, oikawa, sugawara

⤹ tw. manipulation, fwb mention, typical yan things

═══ ᴀᴋᴀᴀsʜɪ ᴋᴇɪᴊɪ 

▹    akaashi notices everything you do

▹    no matter how small, he sees it. takes notes. studies it and you

▹    you would’ve became friends with him in high school, introduced by the elated bokuto who “wants all of his friends to be friends” 

▹    you’re dedicated and he likes that about you 

▹    always attending every game, even if you mention previously that you might not be able to make it because a, b, or c. 

▹    and bokuto lives for you being there. if akaashi didn’t know any better, he’d think bokuto had a crush on you 

▹    akaashi is self-aware, to an extent. 

▹    yes, he knows he shouldn’t be getting a bubble of anger in his chest when he sees you hug sweaty bokuto first after a game

▹    but he brushes it off as jealousy. nothing more, nothing less

    ══

They got the last touch. They were the victors of yet another game, and they would be the ones going to the finals. 

They are the stars of the world. 

So why does he feel a pang in his chest when you come down from the bleachers and go straight for Bokuto? 

All excitement burns down to something less, the remains of a match brought to nothing more than charcoal and smoke while he watches his best friend swing you around in a hug. 

“Did you see us?” he asks excitedly after setting you down, grin ever present on his features. You can only nod, just as happy as the man in front of you. You pull him into another, less frantic, hug, then turn when Bokuto addresses Akaashi as he approaches. 

“We did it, Akaashi!” 

“We did.” 

As upset as Akaashi wants to be, Bokuto’s exhilaration is infectious. A smile makes its way on Akaashi’s face without him realizing, only to grow when you open your arms to him and give an excited squeal. 

Whatever jealousy his mind made stems down to nothing more than ash, blown away the moment your arms wrap around his neck. 

And suddenly, everything is okay again. 

═══ ᴋᴀɢᴇʏᴀᴍᴀ ᴛᴏʙɪᴏ 

▹    kags isn’t the type to get into a relationship ok

▹    however, i do see him as the type to become fwb with someone

▹    it’s not something that happens instantly ofc. it takes a lot of time and talking about boundaries and rules, but you get there eventually

▹    and you’d absolutely adore kags 

▹    he knows it, too 

▹    kageyama lives off of whatever attention you present him with

▹    but he sees no point in reciprocating anything 

▹    give him an inch and he takes a mile 

▹    he won’t acknowledge if you do anything that’s more romantic than fwb 

▹    bring him a bento box for lunch “just ‘cause you felt like it?”? don’t make a habit of it, or he’ll start to expect them, without giving back anything in return 

    ══

The blank look on his face should’ve told it all, honestly. 

But, you’re no quitter! And in your defense, he was the one who told you yesterday how good your lunch looked. 

Kageyama only stared as you presented him with a neatly wrapped bento box, processing what this could imply further down the line. Regardless, he takes the food and unwraps the cloth. It’s the exact thing you brought the day before, and despite your friends’ protests of ‘not getting too attached to someone like him’, you’ve taken it upon yourself to do something nice for him. 

It is one lunch, after all. Maybe a second if he doesn’t cancel your ‘study session’ planned later on in the week. 

“Thank you for yesterday,” you say nonchalantly, as if he didn’t blow out your back in the bathroom stalls with the only reasoning being ‘because Hinata pissed him off’ and he needed to do something with his pent up aggression, “I had a good time.” 

He doesn’t reply, but you don’t expect him to; instead relishing in the fact that the tips of his ears burn. That doesn’t stop a smirk from forming on his face, though.

═══ ᴋᴇɴᴍᴀ ᴋᴏᴢᴜᴍᴇ 

▹    kenma is one of the most analytical out of the five

▹    he can easily pick up on the things you do

▹    your pet peeves, your tics, your habits, all of it

▹    and he can just as easily use them against you 

▹    is the best at making it seem unintentional

▹    what do you mean you don’t want to watch his game? you promised you would, even though he sort of pressured you to in the middle of a gaming sesh but it’s not fair to just,,, tell him you have other plans!

▹    it’s kinda rude to just get his hopes up and then let him down, isn’t it? 

▹    probably the most self-aware out of everyone, but he really doesn’t care. people usually look over him because of how unassuming he is, so why would him taking interest in you be noticed either? 

    ══

Your agitation was tangible. He could make out your form under a blanket from the video call you were on, pitiful and tired, but that doesn’t stop the slight frown from crossing his features. 

“You promised you’d come watch me and Kuroo play tomorrow, though.” A pinky promise, at that, but he wouldn’t bring up the facts. 

You pout, shoulders dropping with a sniffle, “That was before my parents told me about their anniversary dinner, Kenma.” 

“I really wanted you to meet my friend from Karasuno. I think you’d really like him.” He toys with the string of his hoodie, looking away from the screen for just a moment. He hears you huff out a sigh, screen going black for a moment. 

Video Paused. 

“I’ll talk to them about it, see if I can make it up to them somehow.” Another sigh, followed by some tapping on the screen that Kenma can only assume is you typing. 

“If you can’t, it’s okay. No need to worry about it.” Kenma says dismissively, despite knowing you and your tells; the tone of your voice breaking way into confirmation that you’ve given in to his less-than-pushy demand. 

“Too late,” your screen comes back on, some shuffling and replacing your phone propped against a pillow, “already texted them. What kind of snacks should I bring?” 

“Whatever can get you through the match.” He smiles, a genuine, sweet smile only reserved for those he cares about. 

═══ ᴏɪᴋᴀᴡᴀ ᴛᴏᴏʀᴜ

▹    oikawa is manipulative for starters 

▹    to his peers, his friends, his teachers, his fangirls, to everyone

▹    he’s good at adapting to less-than favorable situations and will do whatever it takes to get his way

▹    the definition of a brat

▹    he’s not above using people for how own advantage, either 

▹    you don’t want to go out with him? that’s perfectly fine! just don’t come crying to him when you get hundreds of hate mail from his fangirls that he oh so dramatically confided in

▹    is not afraid to make you out to be the bad guy at all 

▹    honestly doesn’t care if you really like him or not. even if you say you don’t, he just believes you’re lying. he’s the great king, after all. who wouldn’t like him

    ══

This was the fifth letter you’d found in your locker since school started. No, scratch that- the first two were slipped into your backpack, along with some of your items being stolen by whatever crazed fangirl deemed it necessary to make your day worse than what it already was. 

It doesn’t take an idiot to know what you did wrong to be in this situation. You’d denied Oikawa Tooru, your school's golden boy, telling him you’d rather study than watch him practice volleyball and get dinner after. If you’d known this would be the backlash, you would’ve thought twice about turning him down. 

Someone clicks their tongue behind you, causing you to jump and whirl around. The man at fault stands looking over your shoulder, hands on his hips with a pout on his face. 

“That doesn’t look like a confession letter- unless the broken heart means you’ve already denied them before they had a chance?” 

The suggestion makes you more than agitated- he knows what the letter is. Hell, he probably gave them pointers on what to write! You slam your locker closed with one hand and crumble the letter with the other.

“Is there something I can help you with, Oikawa?”

His name tastes like venom on your tongue, yet it doesn’t make him falter, pout turning to a grin, “There is actually. I’m sure you’ve heard we’re up against The Iron Wall- and I was just double checking that my potential number one supporter would be there?” 

You open your mouth to snap out a reply, but you can feel the glares from your peers; girls and boys alike whispering to each other- stirring a pot they know nothing about. 

So, you bite your tongue. Grit your teeth and deal. It’s just one game, after all- what’s the harm in missing a few hours of a study session? 

“Yeah, I’ll be there.” 

“Great!” His smile grows tenfold, reaching up and pinching your cheek endearingly, “I’ll be sure to let everyone know just how sweet you really are.” 

You don’t miss the mischievous glint in his eyes; the way he moves away from you so confidently telling you more than enough. He knows the game and he’s playing it well. 

═══ sᴜɢᴀᴡᴀʀᴀ ᴋᴏᴜsʜɪ

▹    the sweetest boy on god

▹    just cannot place his feelings! 

▹    does he like you? like like you? want to be friends? more than friends? take you away from anything and everything that could ever hurt you? 

▹    falls back more into the last category, and can only assume it means he likes you

▹    he’s probably the least dangerous to have after you 

▹    suga doesn’t want to do anything that would ruin your relationship, or the potential for any future relationships

▹    this makes him the best friend you could ever ask for, honestly 

▹    will walk you home if you ask (as long as you can stand to wait until after practice) 

▹    takes you out for lunch or dinner or study sessions at the local cafe on the weekend and refuses to let you pay for anything

▹    snacks, drinks, and meals are all on him and he doesn’t complain at all

▹    generally doesn’t ask for anything but your friendship in return

▹    but if you give him a hug or hold onto his arm and let him imagine you’re more than something you aren’t then that’s the best payment

    ══

“You’ve gotta let me pay for something, Suga,” you whine, trying to push some cash into the center of the table only for the man to push it back towards you and pass his card directly to the waiter instead. 

“Nope, I invited you out so therefore I pay.” 

“By that logic, if I invite you out next weekend then I’ll pay?” You grumble, stuffing the money back into your wallet. “Sounds fair to me.” 

“No,” he disagrees again, looking up when the waiter brings back his card and a paper to sign, “I’ll just say no to hanging out- therefore you have no reason to pay.” 

“That’s just mean, Suga.” You whine again, “What if I say no to your hangout session, then?” 

“You can’t say no to me.” He smiles an award winning smile, thanking the waiter, then standing and waiting for you to pull on your jacket before you step outside. “It’s not allowed.” 

“‘Not allowed’?” You repeat with a scoff, scrunching your nose at how chilly the temperature outside is compared to the warmth inside the building, “So you can say no to me, but I can’t you? Isn’t that a double-standard and make you a hypocrite?” 

“Maybe,” he shrugs, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets, “but it doesn’t change the fact that I simply will not be letting you pay for anything.” 

You puff out your cheeks in protest, but it’s gone just as quickly as it appeared and is replaced with a grin. Patting Sugawara on the arm a couple of times before your arm wraps itself around his own while you pull him closer to your favorite spot. The dog park. 

Sugawara always plans for this; taking you past the park so you can see all the pets running around. Your reaction is always the same- hitting him a few times to get his attention, then, wrapping your arm around his so he doesn’t stray far, and won’t leave his until he drops you off at him. It’s routine, at this point. Your warmth seeps through his jacket, and it’s all the payment he needs.

[hickorydickkorydoc]

You Don’t Know My Name (Tim Drake x Reader)

Requested: nah HAHAHA just writing for my own pleasure :))

Word Count: 1400

Warnings: None

A/N: so I guess I’m doing a song fic?? I know I’m new here n I’m pretty sure I only said I vibe w DC n Broadway lololol- but one thing many people in my life know about me is that I LOVE Alicia Keys. This is one of my favorite songs from her and the whole “Diary of Alicia Keys” album and I just really love the MV so I wanted to turn it into this. Don’t forget to hit up my asks for requests! 

KEY: Y/N: Your Name Y/H/C: Your Hair Color indent: Lyrics from the song

————————————————————————————————

Baby, baby, baby,  from the day I saw you, I really, really wanted to catch your eye.

You run into your job with minutes to spare before you were considered late, flattening your uniform from the crinkles that were earned from running into the coffee house.

“You’re lucky, (Y/N), with seconds to spare.” 

You hear the comment your boss throws at you, feeling kind of annoyed.

“At least I made it.” You say with a hint of irritation in your voice as you clocked in for your shift.  

You threw on your apron and got ready for work. You took the 9-5 shift here as a way to make extra cash over the break before you headed back to college. This job could have been worse, but you were getting paid a decent amount to support yourself and to do what you wanted. 

 The morning was sluggish, but today the coffee house got a lunch rush. As businessmen and women entered in their expensive suits and leather shoes, you had a bit of hope that you’d get bigger tips than usual. You ran around taking orders and bringing the customers their second coffee of the day, it was normal.

Then, he walked in. 

 A young man with raven colored hair with gleaming blue eyes walked in. You spotted him from the corner of your eye as you brought a cup of coffee to table 12. You’d seen him before, but not up close. You thought he was charming, and he seemed to be your age as well. 

 You don’t know what changed in you. You wanted to say hello, you wanted to ask him how he’s doing, you wanted to ask who he was, you wanted him to notice you.

Something special ‘bout you, I must really like you. Cause not a lot of guys are worth my time.

From that day forward, he came on Wednesdays during his lunch break. He’d always order the coffee which was not a surprise to his coworkers  as he “was fuelled by coffee” as you’d hear it. You learned his name was Tim Drake through the whispers of the other customers as they watched him enter. You always put real milk instead of water even though your boss would call you out on it. This guy was worth more than the cheap instant coffee with just water, you thought he was kind of sweet. 

It was a new feeling, you never really gave much time to guys cause they weren’t worth it, but this guy was. 

“She’s quite pretty.” 

He thought to himself as he watched you converse with the customers with a smile as you laughed at the corny joke the older woman you were attending to cracked. He wanted to chat with you, but the lunch break was short and Wayne Enterprises needed the CEO present for the meetings of the day. 

 “Damn. One day.” He muttered to himself as he had to leave. Before he goes, he spots a glass bowl that was labeled “BUSINESS CARDS” on it. 

 “Eh, why not?” 

 He dropped his in there for the fun of it. Wayne Enterprises didn’t need anymore fame that it already got, so he dropped his own. 

 Oh baby, baby, baby, it’s getting kinda crazy. Cause you are taking over my mind.

 As you watch him walk out the diner, you feel a little sad watching him go. You loved to serve him the special, the short interaction of saying “Here’s your order, sir.” was blissful and receiving the smile and the faint “Thank you.” was enough to make your heart go pounding and making you smile like an idiot for the rest of the lunch rush.

 Every time he left, the rest would follow as their lunch breaks also finished. This let the coffee house go back into its relaxed state with customers coming and going. You watched them eat their burgers and fries whilst you thought about-

 “Tim Drake?” You heard your coworker say. 

 What? now Belinda has mind reading powers and is out here trying to embarrass you?

 “Sorry?” You say feeling a bit flustered with slight fear that maybe Belinda really did have mind reading powers and read through your thoughts.

 “Tim Drake of Wayne Enterprises dropped his card into the bowl. Huh, interesting.” 

 Belinda said as she dropped it back into the bowl. As she walks away, curiosity got the best of you as you grabbed the bowl and took the card.

 “Oh my God.” You thought to yourself. You knew what you were going to do with that card. You saw the number, you had a working cellphone, it was all the components of a crazy plan you were going to pull off.

 “I’m gonna have to just go ahead and call this boy.”  

 *********

 Another day at Wayne Enterprises meant endless meetings, dealing with angry ex lovers of Bruce Wayne at the concierge, and looking at a bunch of new business ventures. Tim was fuelled by coffee and ran on negative hours of sleep.

 As the day paced through slowly, it was finally over. Tim headed back to Wayne Manor to do more work. As he entered and changed into lounging clothes, he expected another evening of writing on excel sheets and attending to his duties as a vigilante.

 His thoughts as to what the next big investment would be paused as he heard his phone ring. An unknown number was displayed across the screen, he answered it.

 “Hello?”

 “Hello? Can I please speak to - to Tim?”

 “This is him speaking, may I help you?”

 “Oh hey, how ya doin’? Uh, I feel kinda silly doing this but uh, this is the waitress from the coffee house across Wayne Enterprises. You know, the one with the (Y/H/C) hair?”

 He smiles to himself as he recognized you by just that hint. 

 “Oh yes, hello! Miss...?”

 “(Y/N). So sorry to bother you but, I found your number in the business cards bowl.”

 “Of course, my bad I slipped for a bit, I just realized I never really caught your name on your tag.” He chuckles through the phone.

 You chuckle along as you would assume someone so young with a top position at a company would be sharper.

 “Yeah, well I see you on Wednesdays all the time. You come in every Wednesday on your lunch break I think. You always order the special, with the coffee. And my manager be tripping and stuff saying that we gotta use water. But I always use some milk and cream for you ‘cause I think you’re kinda sweet.” You mention that to him with the confidence that was erupting within. 

He blushed slightly at your remark and the gesture that you reserved just for him when he ate there. 

 “Why thank you, (Y/N). I really appreciate that.”

 Conversing with you even on the phone was enough to make this boy fall even harder for the girl he didn’t even know the name of at first. You take a glimpse at the time realizing it was getting dark and you probably shouldn’t bother such a busy guy.

 “Look man, I mean I don’t wanna waste your time, but...”

 “Oh no worries, I’m free the rest of the day.” He lies just so he can get a few more minutes of hearing your serene voice. 

 “I know girls don’t usually do this but I was wondering if maybe we could get together outside the restaurant one day? Cause I do look a lot different outside my work clothes.”

 His smile became even bigger with this newfound joy that erupted once you asked him. He chuckled at the last portion of you asking him out. He knew you’d look gorgeous in anything, even in Pajamas.

 “I’d love to, (Y/N). What about Thursday?”

 You smiled like an idiot once he said yes to meeting you. Your blood was rushing and you were filled with excitement.

 “Yes, Thursday’s perfect.” You smiled as you answered.

 “Great! see you on Thursday, (Y/N). Looking forward to it. Gotta get back to doing some work.” Tim answers back to you.

 “Oh yes! See you then!” You hung up the phone and screeched like a giddy child. Unbeknownst to you he was practically doing the same thing. This was gonna be great. 

[onthesandsofdreams]

At The Café

Fandom: ASoIaF Pairing: SanSan Rating: T Summary: Sandor had also started putting ‘Little bird’ on her order and, he had given her an extra lemon bar here and there. The bright smile she always gave him made him feel warm inside and nearly made him swoon. So much for him being cold and opposed to love. Words: 1541 Notes: For my big sis @thefeatherofhope, based on this prompt. Also, Sandor’s on the gentler side of this fic, because well, Sansa.

Read @ AO3

Sandor spotted his favorite customer coming in.

Sansa Stark, of the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, had been coming to The Three Lions coffee shop without failing for the past three weeks. Near month, really. She always came in, laptop in a pink bag and always impeccably dressed.

The café always had people, being near the university made sure of that. Sandor took his classes and then came straight to work, and Sansa was another student. She was studying literature, specializing in myths and legends of Westeros. And she had been daily, and even if it was for one cup of latter (be it hot or cold). And she was always nice and pleasant, she had made an effort to befriend no only him, but Bronn and Hot Pie.

And Sandor would be lying if he didn’t say that he was, in fact, looking forward seeing her. Her visits, which lasted usually an hour, were the bright spots of his day. He had began calling her Little bird, because as soon as she formed in the queue to order, she would begin humming, from songs that he could recognize as love ballads or songs he had never heard before.

Sansa had been shy and reserved at first with him, Sandor couldn’t exactly blamed her. He was taller than she was head and shoulders, he had the scar on his face and he was built like a house. Overall, he knew very well that he gave an imposing and unfriendly impression. But Sansa was always polite, always inquiring about his day and small things about himself.

Once Sansa placed her order, usually a latte of some sort and a lemon bar, she would go and sit within sight of the cash register and Sandor could keep on looking at her. She would get her laptop and work, curiosity had once gotten the best of him, turns out, she was writing a romance book. He didn’t understand nor know the legend in which her book was based, but nevertheless, he encouraged her and wished her well.

Sandor had also started putting ‘Little bird’ on her order and, he had given her an extra lemon bar here and there. The bright smile she always gave him made him feel warm inside and nearly made him swoon. So much for him being cold and opposed to love.

And today, as Sansa opened the door, and smiled at him, Sandor knew that he was doomed. Sansa formed herself in line, there were only two others in front of her, which Sandor hurried over so they could move away and give her his attention.

“Morning Little bird,” Sandor spoke at her, loud enough to be heard over the constant jazz music that was on the café. “What will be this time?”

Sansa beamed at him, damned it, she looked so pretty dressed in a pale pink dress, hair loose and flats. “Hazelnut latte please Sandor, and oh! A bar of lemon bar and a cinnamon cookie package!”

Sandor nodded and marked it on the register, “Someone’s having a sweet tooth.” He finally had gotten to where he could joke and she would know it was a joke. “That’d be 6 on the dot.”

Sansa pulled a ten and gave it to him, and when he gave her her change, she dropped it smiling to the tip jar. “How’s work coming along today?”

Sandor shrugged, and moved prepared her order, “Not so bad, you arrived before the rush today. So you get some peace for your work, how’s the novel coming along?”

“It’s coming,” Sansa lifted her shoulders, but a frown came to her face. “I’m having some difficulty with a character, who knew that characters took a life of their own and made demands?”

“Not me,” Sandor, who had never written anything besides educational papers, was puzzled, but kept working until Sansa’s latte was done, then walked to the display and grabbed both the bar and the cookie package. “But I’m sure you’ll get a hang of it.”

Sansa beamed at him as he placed her order in front of her. “Thank you, Sandor!” She took her order, and made her way to her usual table, she placed her thing down and then pulled her laptop, she opened it and began her work.

Sandor watched her for a few moments, then shook his head and began to check for anything else to do. He had not lied that Sansa had arrived before the work rushed, so he checked the bakery items, and cleaned the area around the register and made sure the hot water for tea was ready. And when he finished right on time, for as soon as he finished, customers hit at the rush hour. He had to concentrated, but he still managed to cast some looks at Sansa, watched her from the corner of his eye as she sip her latte and she had already finished her bar and was munching on her cookies.

Once the rush hour passed, Sandor was tired and worn. “You alright Sandor?” Sansa asked, and when he looked around, he realized that they were the only two of them in the café.

“Rush hour took more out of me than expected,” Sandor admitted. “They left me to man the café alone today.”

Sandor watched as Sansa frowned, and looked around, noticing that they were alone. She then pointed at the chair in front of her, “Can you sit? Even for a moment?”

Sandor hesitated, but then, he pulled the chair and sat down, “A minute,” he grumbled, but already feeling light at the thought of being with Sansa for a few minutes. “Boss didn’t get an extra hand for me today.”

“That’s not fair to you,” Sansa frowned. “Who owns this place?”

“Cersei Lannister.” Sandor didn’t notice that Sansa had frozen in her spot. “And she put a lackey of hers as manager, he’s never here either.”

“Mother of Joffrey Baratheon?” Sandor looked up, Sansa’s voice sounded much lower than her usual chirpy tone.

“I think so,” Sandor didn’t keep up with that. But he recalled Cersei speaking of her ‘Joff’. “Why?”

“I had the… ‘privilege’ of dating Joffrey. He’s absolutely horrid, and Cersei too, so I’m sorry Sandor, you deserve better.”

Oh. Of course, because nice as Sansa was, she would gravitate towards handsome men. It’s stupid, why should he ever think he’d had a chance with her. Sandor stood, fortunately, there was a client walking in, he rushed to help tend to him. It was a good thing the man saved him before he made a fool out of himself by asking Sansa out.

Sandor did his best to ignore Sansa, but he couldn’t, because he could feel her gaze on him. Then, three other customers came in and he could pretend to give them his attention, but he knew that he was in a bad mood and it was leaking to his work, because the customers seemed to be unusually polite.

Sandor had thought of giving Sansa another lemon bar, but before he could, he saw her pick her things up. Balls, she was leaving already. Then, much to his surprise, she approached the front where he stood behind the register. She smiled at him, “I know this isn’t normal,” she told him. “But I wanted to ask if you’d like to go out in a date?”

Sandor froze. He couldn’t possibly have heard right. Sansa Stark, woman of his dreams did just not ask him out. But then, realized that something was up, because she nearly panic and began to back peddle.  “Fine.” He managed to get out.

It was Sansa’s turn to freeze and give him a doubting look. “Are you sure? I mean, you don’t have to if you don’t want to. It’s fine.”

He shook his head, “No,” damn it all to hell, his throat was dried and he was barely managing to utter single syllables words. “I mean, I’d like to.”

Sansa’s face cleared, “Oh! Great then! When are you free?”

“Saturday after 3.” Sandor’s heart beat loud, he was sure that Sansa could hear it. “Anywhere you want to go is fine.” Good, he managed to speak this time without sounding too desperate.

“Movies?” Sansa asked, a small smile on her face. “Maybe something after?”

“Movies and something sounds good.” Oh what a bloody idiot he was. Sandor knew he sounded like a fool, but truth be told, it wasn’t very often that girls like Sansa asked him out. One had asked him out for a bet. But he held no such fear in regards of Sansa, because she was actually a nice person who treated people with respect.

Sansa beamed at him, “Great! Then, how about we see at the movies at, say 5? That way you have time to do whatever you need without rushing?”

Sandor nodded quite frantically, “Yes, that works.”

“Excellent! Then, I’ll see you tomorrow Sandor, I have some things to take care off, bye!” With that Sansa rushed out of the café, not giving him the chance to say goodbye.

But he was happy, and Sandor knew himself to know that he was grinning like a loon. For once, he didn’t care.

[baekchelor]

ａｓｈｏｒｅ[ix]

pairing: bodevan cash x reader genre: Doctor! AU, Romance, Angst, A tiny bit of Smut summary: After a fall out with your fianceé, and an opportunity to chase your dreams, you embark into a medical mission trip to Namibia where you run into self-taught doctor Bodevan Cash. Love ensues. word count: 4.7k a/n: I think you will love this. I loved writing this so, so much. This is the final chapert, BUT we still have the Epilogue to come. I’m opening a vote for my new story, if you want a Ned Kelly AU pls comment a 🥵below and if you want a George Mackay GossipGirl AU comment a 🤭.

❝the  sea,  the  majestic  sea,  breaks  everything,  crushes  everything,  cleans everything,  takes  everything...from  me.❞                                                                                             ― corinne  bailey  rae

THREE ｅｉｇｈｔｅｅｎ ｄａｙｓ

◄ ｐｒｅｖ

Being completely, utterly honest, you were one of those doctors who suffered the hidden pleasure of actually enjoying Grey's Anatomy. Guilty as charged. Not ony our life, you've understood the guilt some of the characters experienced —Meredith, per se—when a phone buzzed loudly, the name of the person they were supposed to be committed to flashing on the screen, while they were trapped in dreamland and in the arms of someone else.

Empathy crawled over you, though, the thirteenth morning in Namibia. Over the bedside table, your phone spun over the fake wood as the ringtone chosen and reserved for Ethan and only Ethan, sneaked into your dream, grabbed you by the toes, and its claws were so sharp that on their attempt to drag you out, you jolted awake.

However, you weren't able to sit up all sweaty and scared. You tried to, but you were unable. The limbs in your body felt extremely stiff, heavy, and the source triggered the alarm system inside you. Someone's strong, perfect arms were resting tightly around your waist. Said someone, muffled and whined when you carefully freed your body and sat up, every inch of skin flushed red.

As things go, conveniently enough, it was almost midday, and you've slept curled up against Bodevan's frame. With the head buried on his chest, his arms encircling your waist, your legs mingled together... the entire flipping night.

Great. Just great.

The worst thing is —and it is shameful to admit, you must confess— the reason why you decided to answer Ethan's call that morning, was the fact that the longer your phone rang, the most possible it would wake Bo up. And firstly, you enjoyed the view too much to give it up. Secondly, the last thing you wanted was Bodevan to realise your fiancée had called.

By mere instinct, while you murmured a groggy Hello! to the speaker, your eyes travelled their usual route towards the exquisite engagement ring residing on your index finger. Then, right then, hell broke loose. Because there, right there, was none ring to be found.

Your eyes went wide, wild, and almost jumped out of your face when frantically, you introspected between the covers, underneath the carpet, across the floor only to be met with no sign of it.

Shit.

Shit.

Shit.

"Hey baby," Ethan's voice was sleepy, deep, and the obliviousness on it made your eyes water. "Did I wake you up, sleepyhead?"

Yes, he did, and your head is killing you.

How many drinks did you share with Bodevan last night?

How many bottles?

How on earth did you lose your engagement ring?!

"Yeah... It was a long night".

"Hospital emergency?" He pressed on, "You forgot to call me. I waited."

"Sorry, E," The apology means so much more, it quivers as you speak. "I was at the birthday party I mentioned before."

Bo rustled in the sheets beside you. Your voice must have woken him up.

The laughter at the other side of the phone, robbed back your attention, "Completely zoom out on that. How was it?".

"Fun, I guess..."

"So it was crap?"

"Yeah," you lied. More so, you didn't lie entirely. It was crap that you lost your ring, and it was crap that you snuggled all night with a boy who is not the one you're going to marry —and it was crap that if you're completely honest with yourself, you didn't give a shit about it. Because you were certain, almost certain, you have fallen in love with another man.

As in, with the man in front of you with wild pillow hair and piercing blue eyes.

With Bodevan Cash.

This was madness. Africa induced madness! Surely, this infatuation was a result of the miles-away syndrome. You haven't seen your fiancée in two weeks, and you have spent the majority of your days in the company of the uniquely weird boy.

But what if... what if the loss of your ring was destiny talking? Perhaps it was written in the stars that the sapphire engraved item wasn't supposed to be wrapped around your finger.

Fate or not, you needed to find it. You couldn't just give up on it and on Ethan. It wasn't fair, and you weren't that kind of girl.

In such wise, you cut the conversation short and hurriedly hung up the phone. Ethan believed your excuse: you slept in, and you needed to rush to the hospital for your rounds.

After you were enchanted by the fact that under a morning sky, Bo's eyes really did match, and you giggled and blushed over breakfast with him —you didn't share pancakes, you wouldn't do that to Ethan. The meal of choice was waffles and sweet but dark coffee—you two embarked on the exhausting search for the ring.

The starting point was the clinic, under the patient's cot. Then you searched across the beach, digging in the sand as if you were looking for seashells. You searched all over your cabin, in between the sheets, under the bed, inside the drawers...On day fourteen, you and Peera turned the teepee upside down, pushing furniture to the corners, emptying the shelves, to no avail. On day fifteen, you asked the hotel plumber to dismantle your sink, in  case in your drunken state you'd washed your hands and didn't notice it going down the drain. On day sixteen, you gave up the pursuit. On day seventeen, you came to terms with it and gathered enough courage to break the news to Ethan.

Today, on day eighteen, you are ready. Or at least, you think you are. Bodevan will be here soon, like every day around 9pm to strum some chords on his acoustic guitar and then play that silly game you invented a week ago where either of you would close their eyes, while the other wrote medical terms onto your skin. Whoever wins, gets to choose dinner —and breakfast, because weirdly enough, Bo has been staying the nights. And he always wins.

Holding yourself, in seek of steadiness, you dial Ethan's number. The rain has increased, and you wish upon the stars it delays Bodevan's arrival.

Ethan picks up almost immediately, "Hello, you. I'm on my lunch break, so you're on luck today."

Here it comes. No filter.

"I lost the ring."

"What ring?" He's chewing something, an apple you presume. Ethan loves apples.

"The engagement ring."

"You did what?" He is not screaming, but his voice is sharp, and it cuts right through you.

"I-I lost it. It fell off the night of Danny's birthday party."

"I see." You know what it's about to come, you recognise the tone on his voice as the one he employs when he's aiming to hurt. "You lost your engagement ring the day you got wasted while partying with that excuse of a doctor you're working for."

"I was not-", you hurry, "I mean I didn't..."

"Of course, you did. I know you. I know your hangover voice, and I'm not a fucking idiot."

"Ethan, I-"

"Will you cut the bullshit?" he intervenes, "This is your revenge from what happened with Harper. I understand."

Your mouth falls open, at a loss for words, "Are you implying that I lost your ring on purpose, to get back at you?"

"Yes," he said firmly. "That's exactly what I'm saying."

Rage curls in your stomach, "Wow. Real nice, Ethan. You really don't know me at all."

Ethan laughs. He fucking laughs. "I'm saying this because I know you." None of you talks for a minute, and then he breaks the silence, "I'll change your flight for tonight."

"No," calmly, you answer. "I'm not leaving until I find that stupid ring."

"Come on, you're never going to find it." Ethan sighs, evidently done dealing with your stupidity. "I will just buy you a new one."

"I don't want a new one," you say, still calm. You've been pacing back and forth concerning the decision you're about to make. Finally, you've made up your mind, and it's clearly the right choice. "I don't want an engagement ring, Ethan." The rest of the sentence goes quietly, "I-I don't want this marriage."

He sighs again, and you can picture him resting his fingertips between his eyebrows, tired of dealing with you and your feelings. Ethan has always been a cold man, and for a while, you thought the only person he was warm to was you. Such a fool. "Is this your way of saying you're still upset over my previous marriage?" asks Ethan. "Because you said you were fine, but I knew this would happen—"

"It's not just that," you confess, in part, you haven't get over it yet and eighteen days in Namibia haven't bought you enough time to do it.

"What are you saying?"

Your heart grows heavy. You hate this. But you have to do it.

"I can't marry you, E. I'm sorry. But I-I can't promise away my entire life with someone when I'm not even sure how I want to live it," you confess, voice breaking.

"Fallen out of love with me already, huh?" he questions, the pain sewed to his words, further breaking your heart.

"I love you. I'm just—It's been hard, this whole thing... we being liers, you being married, me being here..." You don't dare to say his name, but you think it. Bodevan. "I don't know what I'm supposed to know, but at least at this exact moment, I'm sure I can't marry you."

"Alright," comes the response, always calm, always composed. "Let's take a break. We'll talk when you're back."

"Ethan—"

"I'm hanging up now."

Before you could retort, he hangs up. You feel a strange sense of relief, even though something inside you broke with the knowledge of what you'd just done.

It isn't entirely over, you're aware. You still have to go back, and you have to face him, and return gifts, and send apology letters to the guests. But the confession is off your chest. You didn't want to lie to him anymore.

As you let out a deep, heavy sigh, you glance back and notice that right at the doorframe, stands your very own sun. Now you understand why it's raining and cloudy; sunlight is trapped in your cabin. Bodavan witnessed everything, and he is watching you, warily.

Plastering a smile on your face, you greet, "Hi."

He rubs the back of his neck. "I would ask if everything is okay, but clearly…"

Shaking your head, you explain, "It had to be done. I can't do this anymore. Pretend as if I love him like he loves me and spend the rest of my life with him. It's not fair to him, or to me."

Bodevan says nothing. For the first time in days, he looks incredibly flustered, ocean eyes avoiding any sort of contact with you. You open your mouth to say something, anything, but then he steals the words away.

"I apologise," he blurts. "It was inappropriate for me to spend so much time with you, and even worse t-to fall asleep with you in the same bed."

Your cheeks burn in embarrassment, shame. More so, hurt. "What are you saying? All of that was my choice, you didn't force me into anything. Wh-why are you apologising?"

"Because I have this... feeling that whatever just happened," Bo hurries his gaze away from you. "H-Happened because of me."

If there was a hole in the middle of your room, you would crawl inside and dig your way back to New York.

"It had nothing to do with you," you half-lie. "Nothing even happened between us," you snap, coming off rougher than you'd expected.

"Right," he murmurs, looking away. You can't fathom why the look on his face manages to break your heart more than cancelling your engagement had. "Let's play something then. W-Whats your favourite song?"

"Sweet Child O' Mine."

He smiles, "That's my mother's as well."

Bodevan shrugs off his wet jacket. He clears his throat and sits on the edge of your mattress, guitar resting on his lap. You hear the soft sound of his voice singing a much slower version of the song, and suddenly, you feel at peace. Absent-mindedly, you pick up Bo's signature mustard jacket, draping it over a loveseat so it can dry. Right off the bat, something silver and sparkling drops to the ground.

You gape. Lying there, on the floor, is your engagement ring. Looking undamaged and pristine. A smile would have curved your lips if it hadn't unmistakably fallen from Bodevans's jacket.

When you crouch down to pick it up, your mind begins to spin. Since when does Bo have it? Had he had it all along? Or had he found it and not told you?

The mere train of thoughts makes you sick to the stomach. You clutch the ring in your fist.

When Bo strums the last chords of the song, and his soft voice comes undone in a whisper, he looks up to find you standing there, features betraying the long lost smile.

You stare out at the bay, avoiding the gaze he refuses to haul away from you. His eyes are deep blue, as wild as the waves crashing the shoreline. Confusion is evident on his face, brows curved in the sense of bewilderment. Right now, Bodevan is a doctor, trying to diagnose your symptoms, and figure out what shifted inside you that has you bracing yourself against the biting gale off the water. And him.

You tug the yellow montgomery closer, but it is no use. Only one thing could warm you tonight, and he is out of reach. You miss the way he fills the circle of his arms with your body, leaning down to kiss the crown of your head —it should be an Anatomy case of interest, it seems to be customed as the perfect resting spot for his lips. But it is a good thing Ethan isn't here now. What he'd find out would leave a bruise on Bodevan's face, and it would be the last hit to turn you into pieces.

Bo's eyes drop to his jacket, your fist clenched around the fabric, and his face falls. Dr Cash found the disease, and it pains him, of course, it pains him. He just figured out, the source of your lack of well-being, is him.

"You know," he states, careful. The astonishment in his voice doesn't surprise you, yet you can't explain to yourself why it stings so much. You’re trying your hardest to stay calm. But a lump has formed in your throat, your stomach has turned into a thousand knots, and you can feel the tears building up inside your eyes.

"Why?" It is pathetic, really, how your voice breaks amidst a one-word sentence. The tears are free now, streaming down your cheeks. "I know it wasn't for the money. Unless you've fooled me on your Maoist shit as well."

"A fighter for the rights of poor farmers and landless labourers, seeking to overthrow the state and usher in a classless society? I am."

"Then, why did you do this?"

Bodevan looks away, clearly weighing his options. It takes him a second, and then he is down on his knees, staring up at you with big ocean eyes, and your legs turn to jelly.

"I know what you think, but I didn't do this to hurt you," he grabs your hand, and you feel his fingerpads as though they were burning through my skin. He takes your palm in his own, urging to open up your fist. "You have broadened my mind, you've helped me grow. The way you've opened me up —you've penetrated deep inside me. Like if you had cut me open in the operating table and filled my insides with you. And I know I penetrated deep, deep inside of you—" he stutters, with eyes still wide. If you weren't as mad at him, you would find the pink streak across his cheeks adorable, and you would find inside you the box of tenderness reserved just for Bo and his peculiar self. But Bodevan made sure to close that box, cover it in tape, and carry it all the way down to the basement in your heart. "Not, not like that. I-I would love to... o-one d..."

"Bodevan..."

"I did it because I am an idiot," he blurts out. "I'm an idiot for you. I-If you'll have me." Right on cue, you watch him suck in his breath, wishing to take back his confession. Clear as water, you can see the progression of his emotions settle in the crease between his eyes. Bo feels impetuous, then bewildered, then ashamed by his own forwardness. He always does this, too many times before.

"No," you whisper, remembering...always remembering... Ethan. Bodevan's lies. "I don't want to talk to you, and if you care for me at all, you won't say another word."

His ocean eyes drill into you. Bo steps back and crosses his arms over his broad chest —God, you'll miss watching his yoga routine in the morning. But this is his fault.

For a few seconds, he looks at you strangely, wondering whether to concede. You stand for a moment, gathering energy, it's stupid, but it is taking all of you to walk away from this misunderstood unique boy. But is time to let your feet drag you out of this air-consuming cabin, away from Bodevan Cash and his perfect long hair. Back ashore.

The moment you storm out, rain drains all over you. It soaks you in a matter of seconds, but you don't care, you really don't care at all. You're angry and upset and feel as if you're adrift in the middle of the ocean, with thunders in the horizon and strong winds moving your ship from side to side, without giving you a rest.

Bodevan chases after you. Ever so careful, he clasps his big calloused hand, around your waist and guides you to meet his eyes. It's puzzling, he has never done such thing, on the contrary, his gaze is always playing hide and seek with you.

"I didn't tell you because every time your anatomy appears in from of me, I run out of methodology," he says frustratedly. "Because this love no longer understand of reasons or advice and it feeds on pretexts, and it lacks pants."

With shaking hands, almost without noticing, you let the ring fall to the sand. "T-This love?" you ask quietly.

Bodevan doesn't let go of your wrist. His lids are squeezed shut. "I'm sorry. You have every right to never talk to me again."

"You didn't answer the question. Do you love me?" you ask again, heart hammering in your chest.

"By all means," he confesses, chest rising and falling. "I-I'm an idiot who somehow fell in love with you without realising it."

Dizziness overwhelms you. You share the same suffering than Bo. This love doesn't allow you to stand, it has broken your heels. Even if you get up, you'll fall again into it. Even if he hid the ring, you're still in love with him. Even if Ethan returns, you would still be in love with Bodevan.

You've transformed into a thing that does nothing but love him —fool, blind, deaf, brute. Bodevan Cash rules your thoughts day and night, withal how many times you've tried to bury him in your memory, you haven't figure out a way to forget him.

If you could exorcise yourself from his voice.

If you could escape his name.

If you could rip your heart out and hide, so you don't feel ever again.

Maybe then, you would be able to stop loving him.

"I'm stupid, you know? I always want the things I can't have" Bodevan stutters. "And now I've ruined everything."

Your thumb brushes against his cheek, "You haven't ruin anything."

Taking him by surprise, you untangle his grip from your waist and bring his hand to your waistline. His figure grows very still as you pierce through his blue gaze, his pupils nervous. "I gift you my waist," you whisper softly, pink mouth close to his bruised one. "And my lips, for whenever you want to kiss."

Both of you, nervous as hell, can't believe the promises that are rolling off your tongue.

"I give you my delusion," you giggle. "And the few neurons I have left."

Bo doesn't react and says nothing for a bit. It frightens you, but you find comfort in the fact he hasn't pull away from you. And then, he hums, "I gift you my silence."

You want to cry, of pure and golden happiness. Bodevan leans closer, resting the damaged skin of his perfect lips at the tip of your nose. And you say, "I gift you my nose too."

"I give you my bones, even," Bo interjects, voice deeper, rough. He is breathing heavily, forehead pressed to yours, and your mind flashes back to the first day you met him, and how you have been like this, near the sea. "But don't run away from me anymore."

Bodevan lands his lips into yours. Responsive, you entangle your hands in his damp locks, luring him closer to your body. His lips are igniting fire down your spine, and you discern now why he is your sun, and why his eyes are like the morning sky.

Dramatically out of character, he doesn't hesitate when you reach down to pull his shirt up and off his body, your small, cold hands resting on his toned, flipping fantastic chest. The rain continues, yet, neither doubts to turn your clothes into a wet pile dangerously close to the seaside. Bo lowers you onto the sand, kissing patterns into every inch of skin he encounters, tracing the entire shape of your body. Never in your life, have you felt this alive. Every part of you burns under his touch and his eyes, and you don't fear to be consumed by the fire.

Eyelids screw shut when you hear yourself gasp. Your bodies have entwined, and you hold him close, closer as you ever embraced someone, his minty breath misting your ears as he whispers your name.

"Bo..." lazily, you flutter open your eyelashes and watch him in adoration.  His jaw is clenched in concentration; his hard muscles contract and pull on top of you. Bodevan brushes your cheekbone with his fingers and kisses you twice before burying his head in the crook of your neck. His breath is staggering, hot and wild.

Bringing his face to yours, he opens his eyes, "You once asked what I loved most in the world..." You did. He answered, his siblings. "I lied. It's you."

As you smile, you recognise you're equally a liar. When he asked the question back, your answer was medicine. But it is him. It really is him.

The following morning, you wake up tangled in the sheets, a beam painting your face with pink shades as you remember why. Peacefully asleep and ever-so ethereal, Bodevan lies next to you.

Bo matches your smile as you kiss his cheek, your fingertips tracing the words you couldn't find yesterday, but the ones you're certain you feel. He's always been an expert, he always beats your ass, and you can tell he understands what you're writing with invisible ink across his back when he smiles, lids still closed. You love him, and although you can't vociferate it, you want him to know it.

Bo pulls you into his arms, "I'll wait for you. You have my words" he rustles. "But you need to go back to Manhattan. You need to go sort out if you really want a life in the middle of nowhere, with me.

"I do."

"You don't," he intervenes. "You have been here too many days, now everything is blurry. My dad, he—He never asked my mom if she still wanted the life she was living. And she killed herself." Tears run down both your faces, no matter how hard you're trying to stop them. "I would never do that to you."

You nod, "Alright."

Bo wipes your tears away with his thumb, "I will miss you."

"I will miss you too," you choke. "So much."

With one last look back at the boy with morning-sky coloured eyes, you step into the departures gate, taking a shaky breath as Bodevan waves goodbye. An ocean will be between you, and your heart drowns the entire flight home.

ｎｅｘｔ►

[s-horne]

23. National Lucky Penny Day

“For me?” Tony grinned as Steve handed him a wrapped gift. He lifted it to his ear and gave it a light shake. “What is it?”

“It defeats the point of me having wrapped it if I just tell you,” Steve said with a fond eye roll as he settled back against the headboard, stretching his legs out straight and crossing his ankles. “I might as well have just taken you with me to buy it.”

“Yeah, but half the fun of getting a gift is annoying the giver by trying to guess what’s in it. So, what is it?” When it became clear that Steve wasn’t going to say anything else, Tony shook the rectangular gift again. “Socks? A tie? Oh, I know! A puppy.”

Steve rolled his eyes again and reached out to swat Tony’s thigh. “Just open it, you idiot. I won’t buy you anything else if you’re going to do this every time.”

Tony clasped a hand over his heart. “Rude. Is that how you treat all of your lovers?”

“Only the annoying ones. The ones that sit still, shut up, and look pretty usually get treated a lot better.”

Steve’s tone was so dry that Tony couldn’t help but snort. “Dick. But seriously, what’s with the gift?” Tony folded one leg under himself and looked at Steve in question. “I know I didn’t miss a birthday and our anniversary isn’t until June – don’t comment – so it can’t be that.”

Steve’s grin grew wider and cockier and Tony regretted ever admitting to knowing their anniversary. Sue him; it was the only relationship he’d had that he looked forward to celebrating milestones in. Maybe that had something to do with growing up and becoming an adult, or maybe that was just the effect that Steve Rogers had on a person.

“I don’t really have an occasion. I just thought you’d like it. And I knew I’d like giving it to you at that.”

“Well, colour me intrigued.” Tony slid a finger under one seam of the wrapping paper – gold, he was pleased to note – and started to open it. When he ripped the paper off and threw it off the edge of the bed, he found himself staring down at a glass box frame. In the very centre, dwarfed by its plain surroundings, was a single penny. One copper cent.

Tony blinked at it and his brow furrowed. He looked up to see Steve, ever the neat freak, reaching down for the paper. “What is it? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I obviously love it. But what is it?”

Steve gave a soft smile, his hands running over the screwed-up ball of paper to smooth it out. “It’s a penny.”

“That, I can see.”

“It’s my lucky penny.”

Tony stared. “It’s a what?”

Steve laughed lightly and broke their gaze, looking down at the bedsheets for a moment. “On our first date, I bought you a coffee. Remember? We were coming back from a press conference that had run over so we’d missed our dinner reservations. I asked you if the date could be saved and you said–”

“‘A coffee counts as a date’.”

“Exactly.” Steve smiled, that soft and sweet smile that Tony loved so much. The one that was just for him. “And it cost me all the change I had in my pocket at that moment. All except for one penny.”

Tony’s mouth went dry at the implication. “So this is…”

“That’s that. One penny from our first date.”

“Six years ago.”

Steve gave a small hum of agreement.

“You kept a single penny for six years.” Tony narrowed his eyes and looked down to further inspect the coin encased in glass. “How do I know it’s the same one? My penny might be in Timbuctoo for all we know.”

Steve chuckled and shook his head. “Not possible. It went in the box with my dog-tags as soon as I got home. And then it went in my shoe.”

Tony’s head shot up. “It did what now?”

“Went in my shoe. My uniform boots. Right down at the front – perfectly placed under my left big toe. Every mission we’ve been on since we started dating, I’ve had that penny in my shoe.”

Despite knowing how gormless he would look, Tony couldn’t stop his mouth from falling open. What was he meant to say to that? Six years of missions and Steve had kept something with him from their very first date. Through arguments and fights, breakups and makeups, Steve hadn’t once forgotten. He’d kept a little bit of Tony, a little bit of the two of them together, with him when he needed it the most.

“Well,” Tony said, coughing a little when his voice came out strangled. “I hope you washed it.”

That was definitely the least romantic thing he could have said, but it made Steve throw his head back with laughter.

“I did, sweetheart, don’t worry.”

Tony cracked his own smile before dropping his gaze back down, thumb stroking over the glass in wonder. “So why now? Why frame it and show me?”

“I’ve hung up the shield,” Steve said simply. “I don’t need to carry this in my shoe for luck anymore. I’ve retired; ready for the quiet life.”

“You still need luck. Who knows what might happen?”

Steve shrugged. “I’ve got you. I’ve already been pretty damn lucky, I’d say.”

Tony had never felt so much love before. It was like a tidal wave crashing into him, surrounding him completely and threatening to swallow him whole. It was almost hard to breathe through the sudden rush of emotion and the coin before him started to swim with the unshed tears in his vision.

“I don’t think anyone could be luckier than me,” Tony said softly, honestly. He cleared his throat again quickly and reached over to set the frame on his nightstand, brushing away scraps of metal and other debris that Steve hadn’t gotten round to sorting. “But seriously, a penny? Who actually keeps change on them these days?”

Steve huffed a laugh and caught Tony’s arm as he went to sit back. “I keep change on me.”

“Yes and that’s what I’m saying,” Tony said, letting himself be tugged into Steve’s side. “It’s all about plastic now, dear. Little cards that you can tap, tap, tap. None of this metal business to slow you down.”

Steve dropped a kiss onto Tony’s head and sighed. “Of course, Tony. I can take it back if you’d like. Ask them to frame a credit card instead?”

Tony poked Steve in the side, digging his fingers in just below Steve’s ribs, right where he knew would make the man squirm. Tutting in faux-disgust, Tony leant his head back onto Steve’s shoulder and fixed his eyes on his new gift.

“I love you, you know? Always have, always will. Cap or no Cap, cash or card.”

“I know,” Steve murmured into his hair. “Just as I love you.”

[artsninspo]

24 Hours (Request)

Authors Note: Okay so this request is for @l-auteuse and @amelatonin who wanted some freak nasty. So I brought out the freaks and they got nasty. I’m still getting used to writing smut so I hope you enjoy.

Pairings: Nebraska Williams (Tre Rhodes) and Black Fluffy Reader

Warnings: Mentions of suicide, institutions and SMUT

___

You had been watching him for quite some time.

Nebraska Williams.

All the female counsellors buzzed around like bees talking about him and it wasn’t hard to see why. Handsome was just the beginning of it, then there was the aura of confidence and warmth. He even seemed polite when it was obvious he absolutely didn’t want to talk to anyone. I mean what kind of idiot tries going out the way he did.

His instincts are that of a soldier when his posture changes at the click of your uncomfortable pumps signalling your entrance. He turns slightly standing when you enter and looking you over with surprise.

“YN, I am your integration officer”  you smile with an outreached hand and suspicion covers his before he shales.

“Nebraska Williams” he smiles and you do to.

“Pleasure to meet you, I’ve read your files - we’re fortunate to have you on our side” you comment but he shrinks in his seat a little. “As you know getting you back out there and apart of society is the ultimate goal so today we’re going on a field trip. No guys with tranquilizer guns, no security - just us” you explain sitting on the front of the desk and looking him over.

“Is that safe?”

“You plan on hurting me?” You retort - it makes him smile. You’d seen him with the other men and he wasn’t so reserved. You’d seen him with the other female workers and he only seemed to interact honestly with black women. Helping them lift the laundry bags, pushing them to the laundry shoot, volunteering with them in the kitchens. This place had a lot of work to do.

“If they trust you with me maybe I should be afraid” he comments.

“Dean Allen is an asshole - you did us a favour by breaking his jaw and shutting his mouth” you admit.

“Everyone doesn’t share the same opinion” he comments in response making you smile.

“Oh well” you shrug looking at the scar - its the only physical proof of his actions. He shrinks in his seat a little feeling self conscious.

“Please Nebraska, we need confidence. Even with the scar you look better than most guys on their best day - besides, you can say you got it doing anything until you’re comfortable telling the truth.” 

“The other shrinks would disagree”

“I’m not a shrink - I’m your integration officer and in the real world everyone lies” you respond honestly un-cuffing him from his confines in the chair. “Here’s what you came in. The mall will be our first stop, knock when you’re ready.” You leave the room allowing him to get changed from his white jumpsuit. You look yourself over in the glass as guards pass you by drooling at your physique in this outfit that demands attention and isn’t your style.

Nebraska exits within a few minutes looking a million times more appealing in plain clothes.

“Beards are a thing, but, judging by your physique you’re a clean cut kind of guy so maybe our first stop should be a barbershop”

He agrees with a silent not and has you stay in the car while he gets his cut. Its impossible not to smile when he comes back to the car looking dapper with a goatee a fresh line up and a slight fade.

“Looks good” you mutter and he blushes a little.

“I’ve never heard of an integration officer”

“They aren’t common, you know the facility can be a final destination for most” you shrug.

“And why would you want to work with crazy people?” He asks plainly.

“Maybe I’m a little off myself” you offer a shrug unbuckling your belt and handing him the credit card. “Look at what people are wearing and we’ll get you a couple of outfits” he takes it. You head to a shoe store first to get out of the too small sky high heels and fins a cute pair of flatforms while Nebraska cashes out on boots a military man through and through. He holds your bag as quite the gentleman but makes no efforts at flirtation.

“So is there a Mrs. Williams”

“My mother, service has taken up most of my time” he responds. “You”

“It’s hard to keep my attention” you shrug as he heads into a mens fashion store. His style is incredibly simple. He doesn’t need to do much to stand out. His openness to feedback is tickling as you stand outside his change room with folded arms and a smile.

“How about this one?” He asks showing you a black polo style shirt, the part two too small for his chest and arms.

“I think we have a winner” you smile fixing his collar. “You should hear the whispers about the fine man in fitting room seven. I can wait outside if you want to do your thing?” You offer looking him over to test the waters.

“I’d prefer you stay” he comments, its hard to tell if its because he likes your company or doesn’t trust himself.

“YN” he calls a few minutes later and you step forward.

“Its nice but -“

“I can’t get it off” he grits motioning for you to come in with him. His abs are so defined its a full time job not to think of sinning in this fitting room with him. He locks the door behind you and you try peeling the fabric off of his shoulders but theres no give.

“You’re a lot taller sit and maybe I can help” you offer and he sits with his legs open, naturally you step between them giving his face little to no reprieve from being surrounded by your cleavage as you try to free him of the shirt. “I think it likes you and doesn’t want to let you” you tease innocently making a little headway. You try and fail for the next five minutes which causes an attendant to knock at the door.

“Are you in need of assistance?”

“A scissors please” you call tired of trying to get the shirt off of him.

“Right away ma’am” the attendant says returning with one moments later. You cut his shoulders and arms free and he takes off the mangled shirt revealing even more of his perfect body.

“Ill go take care of this” you mutter when he catches you looking.

…..

After shopping you let Nebraska drive and he takes you to this cozy soul food spot with amazing dishes. He’s a gentleman - considering all of your preferences, making suggestions and making sure you’re satisfied with he food, service and his company every few minutes. He even lets a laugh escape him at one of your jokes.

“Do we have to get back soon?” He asks once he’s finished paying for dinner and you check your watch.

“We have 24 hrs” you inform.

“Is there a movie you want to see, arcade, bowling, club”

“Definitely not a club and you don’t look like you bowl or enjoy arcades” he teases.

“Excuse me for not looking like a sculpture”

“Please, you know you’re fine. Men have been staring all day” he shrugs without a hint of jealousy or judgements.

“I’ve been occupied with one thats pretty fine himself” you wink as he gets the door letting you in the truck. 

“Stop that” he smiles giving you the green light. 

You program the GPS knowing about the amazing home theatre at the penthouse. Your arousal controls your rational senses and your hand finds itself between his legs. They open slightly granting you permission.

“YN its been awhile, I don’t want to crash and kill the both of us” he asserts.

“Your notes say in fancy terms your libido is shot. I mean if I was locked up for nearly a year and I had a day pass i’d be at a strip club or an old flame … something” you reason and he just gives you a look that says stop. You raise your hand in surrender listening.

…..

Nebraska is in awe of the penthouse and situates himself outside scrolling through the array of movies available to him via the streaming services. On the projector screen. The patio is incredible but the shower is your preoccupation and you take your time washing the day off of you with the new pamper goodies you purchased one the road. You’re in your robe moisturizing your legs when Nebraska knocks at the door.

“Are you coming outside to watch the movie?” He asks with some nerve.

“Which movie?”

‘Whatever you want, I can’t choose” he offers.

“Give me a few minutes” you nod but he doesn’t leave. “Anything else” you asks as he sits by the vanity.

“Continue” he motions being a jerk and purposely trying to make you feel self conscious like you made him.

“Why don’t you help me out, you have bigger hands and we can get to the movie quicker” you propose bringing the lotion to him. Chicken had always been your favourite game, testing nerves and pushing limits - no one was ever better at it then you. You drop your robe thankful for your fresh wax last night and he only lets surprise show for a moment before he dips his hands onto the jar and motioning you to move forward.

He reaches for your arms his hands are heavy but gentle and the skin to skin contact feels amazing giving you goosebumps. He gets to your shoulders before starting on the other arm and it makes your nipples harden.

Nebraska’s eyes look up at yours with a cocky smile waiting for you to crack but you hold your resolve. 

“Continue” you grant him permission and he takes his time running his hands up the fluff of your stomach from being mostly sedentary. When his hands massage your breasts your eyes close at the sensitivity and sensation. Its been too long. He grants you amnesty to collect yourself when he turns you around to get your back.

Your position is even more dangerous when you sit on the bed allowing him to get your legs, he works his way up getting dangerously close but being respectful and opting against being as forward as you wish he was.

He finishes having awakened your body and his libido.

“Come on”

“Thanks” you mutter pulling away when he’s done and getting into your neglige before heading outside with him and sitting on the fresh fluffy blankets he’s laid out onto the patio furniture. He sports a noticeable erection in his pyjamas once you sit purposely sitting out of arms length to read the situation and make your next move your best move.

“Your pick” he offers you the remote.

“I’m more of a documentary or Disney kind of girl”

“No rom coms or romantic movies?”

“Not really my idea of romance - titanic and the notebook are cute, love and basketball is good. I like romance or comedies; not both” you explain.

“Put me on” he shrugs.

You smile putting on basic instinct and he looks a little perturbed.

“No romance, just a cautionary tale” you smile knowing theres no way you’ll even get through the film with Nebraska’s erection practically battling the seams of his pants.

He leans over scooping you up effortlessly and placing you beside him before leaning in. His lips are soft but you pull away to tease him two times too many and interrupting his rhythm. His hand goes to your neck to secure your position. You smile biting his lip playfully and it turns him on.

His hands re-familiarize themselves with your intimate regions showing a more dominant side.  A gust of wind reminds you of your surroundings but the prospect of an audience raises the need for excellent performance.

“There’s a higher building we might have an audience” you smile freeing his manhood from his pants his eyes close as you give it a sensual stroke. “Don’t hold back, I don’t know the next time I’ll have such a handsome man and pretty dick to play with” you whisper and it works at getting him going.

“You can’t be the only one having fun” he says running his teeth down your neck teasing you.

The height difference is nothing when he outs you on top of him for the sixty-nine. His dick is the perfect size and length, intimidating for the throat but perfect for pussy. Your’s is already swollen with anticipation and dripping  from arousal when he slides two finger in and starts a rhythm with his hands.

“Nebraska” you quip gagging on his manhood and making him groan but he continues dedicated to your undoing as he reaches his nut you keep stroking appreciating his consistency in helping you reach yours.

“Nebraska right there” your eyes close and your hand stops as you steady yourself coming hard.

“Now thats out of the way” he says wiping himself off with the sheets and still impressively fully hard. 

‘“What now?”

“You kept a straight face while I touched you left see if you can keep one while I fuck you” the look in his eyes is too casual to be anything but riveting - he has this in the bag and it makes your heart race.

“Be careful with that thing, I don’t need to be broken”

“Now you want to be sweet” he laughs. “Alright, lie down baby, ill let you have it easy this round” he warns before kissing you. Judas. He lies making an abrupt entrance and filling you completely as he bites your ear adding more sting. Theres no air as he kisses you hungrily and pounds into you relentlessly. His rhythm is impeccable and makes the usual jack-rabbit fucking insanely pleasurable.

“You like that?” He asks  giving your burning lips a break.

“Um hmm” you nod looking into his brown eyes and he smiles when you can’t withhold your moans. You run hour hand on his cheek when he slows to an unbearably perfect rhythm sending your weather regions into overdrive. Your hand slides up from his cheek to his scar and he leans his head to kiss your arm in allowance of the gesture.

“You feel so good” he says as you slide your fingers into his mouth, he sucks them without instruction before coming in for another kiss and changing positions. Only to adequately fulfill your every need over the course of the night.

___________

Nebraska awoke on the patio alone and feeling better than ever. It had been over a year of using his hand - still when he had fucked before women couldn’t keep up with him like you did. He got up heading only to find you in the shower smiling and riddled with hickeys of his own creation.

“Who are you gonna say gave you those?” He asks making you smile.

“I’ll think of something good”

“You didn’t give me your card, what if I need to see my integration officer?” He asks making you smile.

“I’ll find you” you’d promised heading to process his paperwork for release.

He heard the murmurs of an escape and went into his room for lockdown as was mandatory. sighing with his new things he flicks on the tv his eyes nearly fall out of his head when he sees the your the escaped resident.

A knock at the door startles him and he stands when a woman enters his room with all the signs of a shrink.

“I’m doctor Blake your integration officer - I’m who you were with yesterday” she says with a sense of urgency. “Do you understand? If anyone finds out I was bested by a fucking nut like YN my career will be finished. So agree and you’ll get out next Monday as wrote okay?” The woman whispers aggressively causing Nebraska to nod still insure about everything as the realities sink in.

____

Authors Note:

Hope you guys liked this one, comment and let me know if you want a part two 💕 

____

TAGS: @bugngiz @lifelover4u @l-auteuse  @notsomellowmushroom @princessasaani @heavensangelxo @bakarilennox  @tastingmellow​ @chaneajoyyy @thehomierobbstark @jad3djay @thickemadame @doublesidedscoobysnacks @aanairb @hooliemooliedonutshawp @quietstorm-73 @thememoireeofme​ @tip222u @amelatonin @cherrystainedlipsbaby

[scribeofmorpheus]

Mark of the Wolf Part 14

Catch Up Here!

Pairing: Derek Hale x Reader (Lastname: Markolf)

Words: 5k

Warnings: Some gory body horror bits -imo. Violence, another cold open, angst? Butchered Swedish.

A/N: It’s funny, looking back at my series plot outline, I never thought this was the direction I was going to go with this confrontation but... The pen writes what it wants.

Leave a like or reblog if you enjoyed this chapter! It helps ☺

~

Derek and Peter sat in the front of the car –Peter at the wheel driving at a more dangerous speed than Derek did. Markus sat beside you.

The others had taken other cars.

The car was cold. The air-con turned all the way up for some reason. It seemed you were the only one with goosebumps that refused to smooth over since you were the only one rubbing at your skin. In search of a warmer cardigan, you reached beside you to grab your duffle bag, but then you remembered you didn't have it. It was with Scott.

Damn!

You should have dressed warmer.

A dial tone sounded from Derek's phone. This was the third time he'd tried the same number. His brow was scrunched in annoyance as he tapped re-dial for the fourth time.

Your head was pressed to the cold glass of the window, the trees whooshing past to form one collective reel of green and brown as your nails dug into the bandage wrapped around your palm. An itch you couldn’t get at annoying your newly formed cut.

"She's not going to answer," Peter said, eyes focused on the road. "Besides, our plan isn't contingent on her being a key player."

"We need the back-up in case things go south," Derek said. "She's the only one powerful enough to take one of those hunters head-on if we need a quick exit."

"I cannot wait to say 'I told you so' when this inevitably blows up in your face," Peter snorted.

"If that happens we'll all be screwed to high hell," Derek said bleakly. “Which means, you’ll be going down with me, smart-ass.”

Peter rubbed his nose, a redness forming just above his lip. He exhaled loudly.

Once the ringing stopped, an unclear voice sounded out through Derek’s phone's speakers. He placed the phone to his ear.

"I need to cash in a favour," his tone was indifferent.

There was a beat of silence, thick and disturbing.

Peter shuffled awkwardly, stretching against the uncomfortable seat material and forward slanted head rest.

"She's not gonna show," Peter sing-songed.

You laced your fingers around your pendant, wringing it about from left to right like a pendulum. A spot on your chest marked by sage oil.

Derek hummed before cutting the phone, it sounded contemplative rather than disappointed. He turned to Peter, "I guess we're just going to have to hope everything goes as planned then."

 The car was parked on the edge of the treeline to the woods.

Peter groaned, looking down at his expensive shoes and the damp soil outside, "These were new shoes."

"I'll buy you a new pair if we live through this and you stop complaining," Derek clapped back as his heavy boots stomped into the mud, splatters of wet soil spraying on his dark jeans.

You and Markus disembarked and for once you were glad you weren't wearing your tennis trainers.

"On the plus side, if we all die, at least it’ll be in style," Markus noted dryly.

Peter shrugged and you rolled your eyes.

"Alright, split up?" Markus asked.

Derek nodded, "Yeah, since we know the lay of the land better, Peter and I will take one of you and we'll work going inward."

"If this place is so important, why hasn't anyone ever mapped out its location?" You asked, hands stuffed in your jeans to keep your body heat close as a cold breeze swept through.

"We tried. The Nematon has a tendency to hide itself," Derek told you.

"Oh..." you said, pretending to understand.

Peter looked around for a minute before speaking over his shoulder, "I'll take tall, dark and broody with me."

Both Markus and Derek pointed at themselves in confusion.

Peter rolled his eyes before pointing at your brother, "The other tall, dark and broody."

You lifted a finger to protest but before a full sound left your throat, Peter had already disappeared into the dark forest with Markus in tow.

You cursed under your breath and from the cheeky smirk Derek wore, you knew you hadn't sworn low enough.

"Come on," Derek's head nudged towards the dense forest. Hands in his back pockets.

"Perfect," you said sarcastically.

You and Derek walked in silence, your hands running up and down your bumpy flesh to burn the cold away.

The woods held an eeriness to them that made the air feel like burning sulphur despite the cold. Fog rolling outward like a dense smoke cloud the farther from the road you got.

You stepped in a mud patch and slid forward. Derek's quick hands caught you and kept you steady.

"You okay?" he looked you in the eye.

You blinked away and cleared your throat, "Yeah, t-thanks."

"You feel cold," he shrugged off his jacket. "Here."

"N-no, I- I'm fine, really," you refused his offer, but Derek ignored your words, draping his jacket around you. It was sweet of him.

"Relax. It won't eat you. It's just a jacket," he smirked.

You nodded while pressing your lips together.

"So… come here often?" you asked as Derek marched forward with long strides -you practically had to jog to keep up.

"To the woods?" he chuckled. "Yeah, this place is a riot," he added dryly.

You scrunched your face and Derek’s arms flexed as he folded them together.

"Actually I grew up close to these woods," there was a sadness to his voice.

You were intrigued, chin rising higher to get a better look at his face, "What's your family like?"

"Dead. Mostly," he noted casually.

Your eyes went wide.

Derek shuffled, feeling that maybe he sounded a bit more serious than normal. He ground his teeth before laughing humourlessly and tried again, this time lighter: "We used to be like your family, actually. Large, overwhelming, very unapologetically different."

"Thanks, I guess…?" you swatted at some fireflies.

Derek shifted his eyes blue and the bugs scattered from predatory fear. He relaxed back to normal and added, "It's a compliment, trust me."

You smiled before asking, "What happened?"

He answered almost immediately, like it as a rehearsed line or one he’d thought about many times, "The girl I was dating turned out to be a hunter… a homicidal one at that."

"Boy, those just follow you everywhere," you jabbed.

He craned a brow your way, "Goes with the territory."

He held your gaze for a moment too long and heat flushed through you, your lips tingling from the memory of his tender yet rough kiss. Your cast your eyes down at your feet.

When you looked back up you noticed Derek rubbed his nose discreetly.

You were compelled to ask him out of curiosity, "You and Peter have been doing that all night. Everything alright?" you pointed to his nose with a red nib.

"You can't smell it?" he was surprised, his eyes fixed on your pendant.

"Is it the sage?"

He hummed in response.

"Sorry," you said with a glib tone, feeling bad for causing everyone so much discomfort.

He cocked a half-smile, "Don't apologise. That is the only reason we're still alive-" he pointed at your pendant. "I can survive a little irritation. Immortal hunters? Not so much."

You stopped for a bit. Mind remembering something that made you laugh dryly. Derek turned to you.

"What?" he asked.

"N-nothing," you held his jacket as your body shook with laughter. "It's just ironic isn't it? The first time I met you, I dug a bullet out of your chest. You were the one in need of saving then. Now look at how everything turned out. I'm the proverbial damsel in distress and it pisses me off!"

It was Derek's turn to laugh, hot air permeating through the cold night in foggy breaths.

"You find that funny?" your jaw squared as you planted your feet and crossed your arms.

"I think it's funny you think you're a damsel," he smiled wider. "Not many damsels I know of have no qualms with cauterising a man's wound using the tip of an arrow and a zippo.  And you can damn well be certain they aren’t eagerly offering themselves up as bait. Not once mind you, but twice." He held up two fingers.

"Then I guess I'm an idiot," you remarked flatly.

"Aren't we all?"

Derek placed a hand on your shoulder. Your body reacted as you’d come to expect, with a shiver running up your spine and a flush rising up from your neck to greet your cheeks.

He uttered in a manner reserved for those more than friends -soft and intimate, "Take it from someone who lost their lycanthropy once, claws and teeth and speed doesn't make you powerful. Resolve does. And you've got that in spades."

You gulped, the warm feeling creeping into your chest again. It was strange seeing him so… open. This version of Derek was different from the one you first saw bleeding out on your metal slab.

Derek didn't move. His hand sending ripples of electricity through you from the contact. It didn't help matters that his jacket smelled of his scent and was wrapped around you like you were a couple in an 80's movie.

It all should have felt overbearing, too demanding, but for some reason, it felt the complete opposite. It felt like just enough.

You took a step forward and Derek stayed locked in place. He was determined to keep his promise. If anything were to happen between you two, under the stars and the pregnant silver moon, it would be only by your say so. You held all the cards and from the tantalisingly tempting way your lips tingled, you knew instinctively what your next play would be.

Your brain shouted for you to step away, to keep things from getting complicated, to not risk your heart again, but your lips parted of their own volition and soon you were speaking in a heady tone, "Derek… I…"

His jaw tensed, though it was much subtler. His eyes on the verge of turning blue. An odd aquamarine settled over his irises instead. He was trying his damndest to stay in control. It was then that you noticed how tightly he balled his other fist. The air filled with more trails of fog from his and your breaths. They kept climbing in frequency.

"I…" your feet trembled and then a howl pierced through the sound of crickets, startling you from your daze.

Derek inhaled and let his arm drop free from your shoulder, he brought it to his own and started working the muscle there as if it were sore.

"Peter's calling. Think he's found it. Come on," he shrugged as he walked in broad strokes towards the origin of the howl.

You cursed again and followed after, thankful for the cold air for the first time since the night began. It drained the colour away from your face.

"What took you guys?" Markus asked as he hopped off one foot onto the other in repeated motions.

"They were probably in-dis-posed," Peter wiggled his eyebrows as he strained the syllables of that last word, a devilish smirk pulling his face up.

Derek shook his head and you bit your inner cheek, ignoring the suggestive look Peter had shot your way.

A stone’s throw away was an old stump in the middle of the clearing. The Nematon.

"That's the Nematon?" you asked, a little disappointed.

"Not much to look at, but trust me, that thing is teeming with supernatural energy," Peter said.

Markus squatted close to the tree, placing his hand on its flat surface. His eyes flashed to red and back, nails shifting into claws then back to nails.

"They're right, this is it." He confirmed.

"This thing is barely higher than my knee. Without branches, what are we going to fashion stakes out of?" you raised your hand at the short stump.

Derek and Peter glanced at each other, each thinking the same thing.

In unison, they said: "The root cellar."

The root cellar was dark. The smell of earth was rich here. An old stain of a bloody handprint had turned a coppery orange colour on one of the root tendrils snaking into the ground. A five-fold-knot carved into another. The air was freezing, like the temperature decreased exponentially, forcing your teeth to chatter. A sickening feeling tugging at your gut as your organs protested in every way possible.

"Something bad happened here," you spoke in a hushed whisper.

Derek was stiff, eyes turning glassy as they stared daggers at the five-fold-knot. The atmosphere around him shifted. All of a sudden he was his usual brooding and detached self.

"That is an understatement," Peter replied.

Markus took in the air, coughing slightly. He and Peter scratched at their noses in almost perfect synchronicity. Not Derek though. He stayed painfully still.

"What happened here?" Markus rose his eyebrows.

Peter's mouth opened then closed, a furrow on his face.

"Let's just get what we came for and wait for the call," Derek grumbled out, claws extending instantly as he slashed at a sturdy section of root and pulled it free.

Peter ran a hand through his hair, "You heard the man."

***

You paced about the sparsely furnished loft space that belonged to Derek. There was yellow police tape discarded next to the entrance. A large window with no curtains provided most of the light in the open-plan apartment.

Derek tossed his phone on the counter, a sigh leaving his lips. "That was Scott. It worked. Now it's our turn."

"Do you think they'll make it out okay?" your voice was shaky, worry keeping you on edge.

"We can't worry about that now," Derek walked over and stretched out his hand expectantly.

You swallowed hard, a ball forming in your throat as you tried to unclasp your necklace with shaky fingers.

Derek squeezed your fingers, "Let me."

You spun around, focused on counting the number of bricks on the wall whilst he removed your necklace. His thumb brushed the back of your neck lightly and then he walked away to stash the necklace in a sealed ziplock bag, tossing it in a drawer for extra measure.

"And now?" you said after you had counted all the bricks on that stretch of wall.

"We hope Scott and Liam can take a few hits and stop any stragglers from coming our way while we..." Peter kicked his feet up and lounged on a leather couch, "Wait."

You stared down at the yellow tape, sorely aware of how tense the room was.

You did the one thing you hated doing in such instances, you made with small talk, "So… you still wanted for murder?"

Markus's head snapped up from his phone, nose no longer red. His attention was drawn towards Derek who was leaning against the kitchen island -his nose also no longer red.

"Alleged murder," he held up one hand to reassure your brother. "And, yeah, in four counties actually."

"Have you thought about what you're going to do if we survive this? I mean… you can't live on the run forever, can you?" you pressed your palms together tightly using your knees to keep from anxiously bouncing on your feet as you sat on the opposite couch to Peter’s.

"If we survive, that'll be just one of the many things I'll have to cross off my to-do list," he retorted.

Markus squinted before sitting up straight, hands clapping together once, "That's why you look so familiar. You were on the news some months ago. Manhunt in--"

"Shh!" Peter shot up quickly.

"I hear it too," Derek said hurriedly as he vaulted over the counter and pulled you behind him, stake in hand.

Right then, an arrow pierced through his large window and shattered the glass. The sharp point dug into the wooden floorboard a few inches to the left of where you'd been standing.

Here we go again.

"Okay boys," Peter cracked his neck before extending his fangs. "Once more with feeling!"

All three of them were all glowing eyes, long claws and wolfish snarls. You raced behind the kitchen island and ducked behind it for cover but no new arrows whistled through the air.

Just then, Astrid barrelled in in through the window, her nose raised high as she sniffed at the air, fangs extended. Her claws were longer than all the men's and her eyes glowed a deeper blue than Derek's or Peter's. Come to think of it, Markus was the only one in the room with red eyes.

Astrid clicked her tongue several times, one long-clawed finger swaying from the left to right, "I knew something was afoul when you weren't with the True Alpha and his rageful beta.” She turned to stare daggers at you, “Alyster will be pleased I found you and after I kill all three of your wolves, I'll deliver you to him." Her accent was heavy, Scandinavian. You realised this was the first time you'd heard her speak English.

“It is your time now,” Astrid pointed at you, a grin on her face.

Peter laughed.

Astrid’s eyes twitched, "What is so funny?" she demanded.

"The fact you thought it would be that easy," he replied like he knew the punchline to a joke she didn’t.

Astrid took a step closer, her claws slicing through the air. Peter leaned back with perfect timing.

"Now!" Derek growled.

Theo burst out of a hiding spot holding a jar of black ash and chucked a whole fist full of it at a broken circle on the floor. An impregnable ring forming around them while the other men in the room tried to hold the rabid Astrid down. You dashed back to the drawer Derek had stashed your necklace in and quickly clipped it back on.

"Mountain ash!" Astrid screamed in anger.

Like a volatile typhoon, Astrid took on all three men, her long claws slashing deep and wide. Blood soaked through torn clothes and your ears were deafened by the piercing howls and deep growls that vibrated off larynxes. Markus lifted his stake when he got an opening, but Derek held his hand at bay.

"No!" Derek stated bluntly.

Markus stared in confusion, not about to let one of the people that'd nearly killed his sister survive.

Peter took the brunt of Astrid's attacks while Derek and Markus were forced in a stand-off.

"Get out of my way!" Your brother shouted, twisting his arm free from Derek's hold

"We need her alive!" Derek shouted back, replacing his hold with his other hand. “For now.”

"Can we argue about this later?" Peter spoke through bloody teeth.

"Rahhh!" Astrid shouted as she lodged her claws into Peter's side, a scream ringing out.

You gasped, taking a step forward.

Derek got distracted by the sound for a fraction of a second, but it was all it took for Astrid to sink her claws into his back and lift him up over her head.

"Derek!" you screamed as you rushed forward, body impaired by the force field of blue light that flooded your vision when you collided with the mountain ash barrier.

Derek spat out a splotch of coppery scented blood as she threw him onto the ground, hard. The sound of his jaw breaking made the floorboards shake. Markus wasted no time and imbedded his stake in her spine. Astrid screeched, dark veins rising up to become visible around her neck and temple.

"Omöjligt..." she whispered as she collapsed onto the ground. Her eyes still open and her chest still moving. He hadn't killed her, but Markus had successfully immobilised her.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck. No!" Peter panicked over Derek's bloody and sliced form. His wounds healing, albeit not fast enough. "What the hell were you thinking?" he glared at Markus with bared fangs.

Markus answered matter-of-factly, "Protecting my pack."

You whimpered when you saw black oozing from Derek's wounds.

That wasn't good.

"If he dies…" Peter whispered low and sinister. Then he snapped up at you and Theo when Derek grunted weakly, "Break the seal damn it!"

Theo broke the circle with the dragging of his heel and a wave of blue energy rippled out. Faster than you’d ever seen him move before, Peter carried Derek to his couch.

Upon seeing the blood and smelling the copper, your veterinary skills kicking in. You ran to Derek's side and steeled your nerves before slicing the knife across his shirt and exposing his chest. Peter slumped down next to you, eyes serious.

"Help me tie her up," Theo asked for Markus's assistance as he hoisted Astrid onto a chair, binding her hands in rope.

The black veins had spread and her skin was beginning to wrinkle and prune. The tips of her fingers discolouring to a dark purple as one of her nails slipped off from the crown with no opposition.

"Eugh!" Theo grimaced in disgust as he held back a gag. "Uh, man! I th- think she's- she's starting to decompose. Rapidly."

Markus blocked his nose as a new stench wafted through the air.

You could smell it too. It was so strong it made your eyes nearly water.

"Whatever magic keeps her alive, the root from the Nematon must be sapping her dry. You were right," Markus assessed.

"Whatever you needed her alive for, you better do it quick," Theo urged as his cheeks filled with air from a repressed gag.

"Fools…" Astrid spat, a tooth slowly dislodging from her blackening gums. "We can't die!”

"Yeah, well you aren't looking very alive either," Theo coughed out from behind his palm, trying to keep from breathing in her ghastly scent.

Astrid carried on, “One always takes our place. We’re divine soldiers. A champion must always exist as long as the First Coming still lives."

“The First Coming? You mean the plague?” Markus pumped her for information.

Astrid huffed. She smelled like a gangrene infested wound, septic and infected, “The First Coming isn’t a sickness. She is a woman of unparalled power. Only her own magic can imprisson her. Only the blood of the tainted will keep her at bay. When there are none of the ex alia left she will bring about the end of the world. ”

You ignored Astrid’s discomforting words and felt all over across Derek's back, running over the imperfect triskelion. Padded fingers forced black ichor to cascade out from circular holes torn through flesh. Derek's eyelashes fluttered in pain and all you saw were the whites of his eyes. He was too quiet. Too slack. It was unbearable to see him like this, but you had to focus.

You wouldn't let what happened to Alex happen again.

Not to Derek.

"Peter, get me a sharper knife and some alcohol!" You ordered while examining the claw marks more closely. "Markus get me better light. Theo check to see if any of Astrid's claws broke off her fingers."

Displeased, Theo tried to look over Astrid's fingers as carefully as he could, his face sneered in disgust as he held back more gags. When he tried to lift a finger up gently the interphalangeal joint came right off, skin and flesh peeling away freely.

"Eugh! Gross! They keep sliding off like… like fucking butter, I can't- It's too-" He retched dropping Astrid’s severed finger bit like he just lost at a game of hot potato.

Markus scrambled to collect every lamp he could find and place it closer to you while Peter arrived with the whole cutlery tray ripped out of the drawer. Peter unscrewed the cap off the bottle of scotch and held it out for you.

You took a swig and then another and then poured some over Derek's scraped back. Derek shuddered, but no sound came out of his mouth.

Unresponsive to pain, he was going into shock.

You pulled out a butter knife, doused it in alcohol and started digging around Derek's first cut, barking at Theo with authority, "You're just gonna have to deal with it, Theo! Just keep checking!"

Peter picked up the bottle of scotch and took a few swigs himself.

Astrid started laughing, her voice growing hoarse with each chorus, one of her teeth fell out and Theo winced, dodging the discarded enamel.

"Wait, you're right!" Theo shouted when he looked over her other hand. "One of her claws is broken in half! Among other things…"

"That's why he isn't healing," you bit down, resigning yourself to breathe only through your nostrils as you concentrated hard on your task. "I just have to get it out in tim- Shit!" You wiped sweat away with a blood-stained hand.

"What? What is it?" Peter leaned closer.

"I think it punctured his heart..." you stammered, more tears welling in your eyes. You chased them away with a loud clearing of your throat.

Peter dropped the scotch bottle, the glass shattering and spilling amber liquid everywhere. Then, leaving you with no time to react, he lunged at your brother and the two struggled against one another.

"Stop, stop, stop, stop it! You two can fight it out if he… dies. But not while he's still breathing!" Your shout echoed in the loft.

They all stilled, even Astrid. You returned your attention back to Derek.

You had cleaned Derek's wounds as best you could, but Astrid's claw had pierced too deep into his heart. You were afraid you'd simply send Derek off to a far quicker death if you pulled it out. Maybe that would be a mercy, considering his state now.

Derek's body was burning way past the normal temperatures of any human fever. Almost like he was fighting off an infection. His skin was damp and his wounds not yet healed –that scared you. You compressed his larger cuts with the rags of his shirt, but there wasn't much else to do but wait.

Wait and watch him die.

You sniffled several times, trying to keep from progressing to full-on crying. Your heart heavy and your stomach twisting on itself.

"Theo, go to Scott, you can do more for him there. Take Markus with you. He isn't wanted here," Peter said without looking up from his nephew's dying form.

Markus took a step forward, "If you think I'm leaving my sister alone with yo--"

"Go with him," you said softly, not looking up from the blood-soaked rag. "I'll be fine."

Astrid was getting worse too. Her skin had turned leathery now, as though she was mummifying. Her eyes dulled in colour as cataracts formed over her filmy eyeballs. She couldn't see even though her eyes were wide open.

Peter picked himself off the floor and grabbed Derek's stake off the ground.

"What are you going to do with that?" you asked with no emotion. You knew exactly what he was going to do, you just didn't want to go forward with something unsaid.

"I'm going to save my nephew," he said through gritted teeth and he moved over to kneel next to Astrid. "Tell me how to save him!" he barked in her ear. From the way she didn’t react, you guessed her eardrums were the next to go in her decay cycle.

Her head craned too far back, popping sounds emanating from her sagging neck, "You're too late. Kill me. Don't kill me. It doesn't matter. It's up to him now,” one of her fingers pointed at Derek before falling clean off.

Peter growled before stabbing one of Astrid's bony legs under her now baggy armour.

She wheezed in pain.

Peter tilted his head to the side, twisting the stake in her tough, meatless leg, "Tell. Me. How!"

Astrid's jaw pulled wide as she tried to hold back a scream, a rip forming at the corner of her mouth.

"Peter stop!" You stood and pulled the stake out of her leg. "We aren't monsters."

His eyes flashed blue and he backed you away from him with a frightening snarl, canines chomping at the air close to your face, "That's where you're wrong. I am a monster!"

In lightning-quick movements, Peter pushed the stake into Astrid's heart and her whole body began to shrivel.

Between straggled breaths from burst air sacs, Astrid raised her head towards the light of the full moon, a melancholic smile crossing her dehydrated face. With what little life she had left, she whispered words not meant for anyone in this room, "I det här livet och nästa. Jag kommer se dig igen. Min kärlek..."

Then her head went limp, falling to her deflated chest as the ropes slipped off her body. Astrid was no more and in her place was a pathetic mummified corpse steadily turning to dust. Then she was nothing.

Suddenly, and violently, the weather changed. The wind grew tumultuous, a horrifically sharp scream carried with it. In the distant, lighting struck down in unnatural and frequent bursts of light. Somewhere in the dark clouds, a tornado began to swirl.

You and Peter ignored the chaos happening right outside the window. The two of you were locked in your own personal pandemoniums.

"Pull out the claw," Peter said darkly, having made up his mind.

"It's too close to his heart. If I-"

Peter's nose almost touched your own. His clawed fingers wrapping around your neck to pull you close, "His condition is only getting worse. Pull out the claw. If he's going to die, it's going to be quick. Put him out of his misery."

You shoved Peter away, but you knew, deep down, it would be the humane thing to do. And now you knew you had definitely gone insane if you were agreeing with Peter Hale.

“You just had to make me say I told you so,” he said bitterly, a tear streaming down his face. “Just like your mother.”

You knelt next to Derek, trembling fingers grazing his paling flesh. As you wrapped your hands around the tweezers gripping the claw, you whispered in his ear, "You said it took someone of tremendous resolve to go through what I've been through and have survived. I also believe it takes someone of great resolve to go through what you go through every day and still have the courage to wake up every morning. I admire that about you. I believe you still have some fight left, Derek… and I need you to survive this… because… because I have a question to ask you."

With a solemn teardrop, you pulled the claw out of his heart and crumbled to the floor, palms pressed together as you and Peter held your breaths.  

An otherworldly green glimmer shone from inside Derek's open wound.

Finale!>>

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[smokeybrand]

Bad Manager

Story time. All this talk of Karens has got me reminiscing about my time in retail. Way back in the wild of my youth, before my chick and i really started getting heavy into out relationship and she mellowed me out, I was a manager at the most ghetto Gamestop in the greater Sacramento area. I actually got the job like i got most things back then; After an argument over Dragon Ball Z. That’s actually how i met my chick, and argument over DBZ, but i digress. I had a thirty minute debate with the assistant manager at the time and he immediately gave me an interview with the store manager. This is, of course, before i found out how sh*tty Gamestop corporate is in real life. In about a year, I worked my way up from seasonal part-time, all the way to Store Manager and i have a Karen story for each phase of my brief career.

Seasonal Part-Time: When you’re a part timer at the ‘Stop, you are basically house b*tch. They make you do the most mundane bullsh*t. Clean the bathrooms, take out the garbage, vacuum the stores, etc. B*tch sh*t. The most mundane task you have, though, is f*cking alphabetizing the goddamn game racks. I HATED that sh*t. it was tedious and f*cking stupid. Once, it took me my entire four hour shift just to properly arrange the PS2 rack. Sh*t was whack, son!

So i finish this sh*t early one day, probably about an hour and a half before i’m off, and this Karen comes in with her kid. He wants a PS2 game. Fine. This little asshole f*cks up the entire system because he can’t find his game. I kept telling the little sh*t that everything was in alphabetical order but he ain’t care. He’s an idiot. After about ten minutes of watching this bundle of cooties and Capri Sun ruin my hard work, i ask him if he knows what “Alphabetize” means and his mom blows up! She accuses me of being cruel and how i had no right to chastise her child and that she would have my job.Obviously, this dumb b*tch escalated the scenario and i had to get my manager. She actually demanded a free game because i asked if her kid understood the order of his ABCs.

Full-Time: Once you graduate to full-time, you get to be looked upon like you are a responsible individual and not house b*tch anymore. There’s usually new part-timers for that. I became third key, a person who’s basically management but gets no management pay, after the ASM who hired me, left. Everyone moved up a rank after that. I started getting opening shifts and sh*t. This is before i was disillusioned with work life and still applied myself for faceless conglomerate who see you as expendable numbers. Don’t worry, we’ll get there soon. Since i’m Third Key, i get opening shifts now. Still don’t do payroll or take corporate calls, but i do everything else management does. As such, thee  are days when it’s just me in the store. I’m the proxy manager because the two others above me make too much hourly and it’s cheaper for me to act as management instead of paying actual management.

It’s, like, six minutes before the store closes. My pat-timer is winding down their ABCing busy work because corporate decreed it so. I’m closing out one o the registers and setting the alarm on the safe to open because that sh*t takes, like, 30 minutes and my ass wants to go home ASAP. We are breezing, man, and about to be out this b*tch in record time. NOPE! Six minutes, man. I remember very distinctly because i glanced at the little clock on the register. Six minutes. This wild Karen rushes my door with her four goddamn crotch spawns six goddamn minutes before lock up! They destroy my store. My part-timer and eye can only watch in dismay. all that work. all that prep. all of it, mute. The f*cked up thing? This b*tch ain’t even buy nothing. We were located next to a Togos.She had the audacity to walk up and small talk at me about how they were waiting for their sandwiches to finish and just needed to kill time.

I tell her that we were closing and she told me, and i quote, “Not with me and my kids in the store.” 9 rolls around and  tell her we have to lock the doors and she’s like, “Go ahead.” I explain to her that i’m not legally allowed to lock up the store with customers on the premises. She looks me dead in the eyes and says, “ Well i guess you’re gonna get some OT tonight then, right?” I’ll never forget that sh*t. That was the first time i felt Retail Rage. I wanted to murder this b*tch. Straight up keelhaul this hoe and set her little monsters on fire. I maintained my composure and after about forty extra minutes, they left. I ended up finishing the close by myself because i had to sen the part-timer home. that’s ABCs, Shelving, closing registers, re-timing the safe, etc. I didn’t get ot of that store until about 11 pm. And had a morning shift at 7. All because a Karen turned my store into a waiting room/playground six minutes before close.

Assistant Manager: My Store Manager got into some sh*t with corporate and they fired him on straight BS. Probably time card fraud, i dunno. I do know he had been with the company for eleven years so f*ck em. I got bumped up to Second Key. Got a little it of a raise. Made schedules now, officially, even though i’d been doing that sh*t since i was Third Key. It’s fine. I can do refunds now and give discounts. I’m “The Manager” and, boy, do you hear about it!

Gamestop is about money. They never want to lose a sale. As such, we have a POS system that let’s you look up merchandise throughout the district. If we don’t have something, we can send you to another store that does. That’s how this story starts. I get a call from another store asking about a game. We have one copy left. They tell me to hold it because someone is coming to get it. Fine. Karen comes in a backpack full of trade-in to pay for this game and get a few extra credits for a birthday gift. Whatever. Back then, we had to test every game that came i. This b*tch had, like, 30. Fine. She also had an old, ratty, PS1. The rectangle ones. That was going to be an argument because she was only getting, like, four dollars for it. She kept gloating about how she got it at launch when she was young and what not. Motherf*cker was as old as Jesus. Also, it rattled. We found out later that was because there was dead roaches in it but that’s a story for another day.

I finish this ridiculous trade in; Tested all the games, made sure they read on both PS2 and PSOne. a few were too scratched to read so i had to run them through the disc cleaner and they ended up being viable after. I trade all of this sh*t in, and the b*tch gets upset when i tell her she’s walking out with less than a hundred in credit and even less than that in cash. She blows up on me, demands to see my manager. I tell her i am the manger, and she just starts going in. I immediately disengage and become visibly indifferent because, if i don’t, i would have beat that b*tch up in front of her children. Like, straight up curb stomp cunts and sh*t. She berates me for being an hourly employee and how she makes more than i do the entire year in a week and all this other sh*t. She just kept getting more and more upset at the fact that i was indifferent to her bullsh*t. B*tch even drops the n*gga wit hte hard “R” a few times, like i didn’t notice. I maintain through all of this racist disrespect. That ain’t what she expected and it definitely wasn’t the reaction she wanted. She demands the corporate number, takes all her games, leaves the Sony RoachMotel, and storms out. I get written up a week later for being an asshole to the customer. I literally just stood there while she turned bright red racist hulk, all over my person, but i’m in the wrong. Okay, Karen.

Bad Manager: My Senior ASM quits because Gamestop is on that bullsh*t so now i’m big man on campus. My DM is forced to promote me to acting Store Manager. Basically, i’m responsible for everything the actual manager does, but i don’t get paid what the manager i pad. It’s that Third Key bullsh*t but, you know, not. By now, it’s been about six months and i do not care. Full on disillusioned and well on my way to outright militant. That’s what Retail does to you. It slowly kills your joy and makes you hate people. I already hated people but this? This sh*t just effortlessly validated why. So it’s me and the other ASM in the store. I hire some regular to round out the staff an change literally everything about the store.

First thing to go was that whack ass dress code. I believe you do your best work when you’re comfortable so it had to go. The next thing i nixed was the ABCs. That sh*t was stupid and a waste of time. As long as the helves were neat, we were good. The next thing i did was spread the reserve and sh*t around. I held a meeting and everyone agreed that was best for the entire store. Numbers were met and no one straggled. Everyone got to keep their jobs and i didn’t have to cut hours. The last major change i instituted was letting staff play games, in store, during downtime. If everything was legit int the store and it was slow, go ahead, pop one of the used titles in a test station, and have a blast. I don’t care. Just don’t be a dick to customers because i don’t want to get hassled. I don’t want you to get hassled. No one wants t get hassled. The time that i was in charge of that store, our numbers were spectacular and we killed even the richest stores in the district. It’s dope how well a team works together when they have high morale ya dig.

One day, i get a call from my new Third key. He and his part timer, his wife at the time, were opening. I wasn’t scheduled to come in that day but he was hysterical. Apparently, this Karen didn’t like her trade in quote and called the f*cking cops. Sac PD was in my store, intimidating the sh*t out of my staff, all because this b*tch thought she deserved more than 20 dollar for her used Gamecube or some sh*t. I walk my ass all the way to work, on my day off, and diffuse the situation with the cops. I explain that prices are set by corporate and there was nothing we could do about the trade in value. I then ask way the f*ck they were even giving validity to this crazy b*tches allegations when she freely admits nothing of hers was actually stolen. Cops didn’t like my questioning their motives and hassled us for another thirty minutes but whatever. They left eventually. I left. The Karen left. The it came back.

This b*tch was in my store for a total of three f*cking hours, trying to sabotage every transaction throughout my Third Key’s shift. Eventually, he clocked out and left. His wife stayed for a few extra hours and this Karen b*tch took the opportunity to just assault her with insults. My part-timer maintained a strong facade. I was so proud of her, man. A lot of the sh*t said was very cruel personal attacks about my part timer’s heritage and status. She was a Ukranian refugee, came over to escape Russian aggression. Gorgeous chick, for real. Very funny. Very affable. Bluest eyes i’ve ever seen on a person. They were unnervingly clear and mad piercing. She was also dummy thicc. Like, she had that super stronk Snow Bunny charm. Let’s just say i made sure to schedule her for a full shift when the Madden and 2K reserves went live.

Anyway, the actual scheduled ASM just hid in the back room while this assault was occurring because he was weenie. Sweet kid, total puss. Karen was going in on how immigrants were the worst and that since she couldn’t understand my part timer’s accent she didn’t deserve to be in the country or have this job. She effectively called her a slut, several times, by insinuating she probably “F*ck your big black boss for this job.” My part timer endured for hours. When she took her break, she immediately called me in tears. She filled me in on the situation. I couldn’t make it back to my store fast enough, man. i blew up on this Karen. I called her out on her elitist bullsh*t, her classist ignorance, and the fact that we didn’t need her stupid f*cking business. I attacked her appearance. infantilized her entire lifestyle. I told her she was a depleted cum-dumpster jealous that my part timer was so vibrant with because her genuine shine reminded the Karen of everything you lost by being a suburban cliche. A middle class punchline. I banned her for being a toxic b*tch. She left my store in gross, sobbing, tears. No one f*cks with my crew like that. I got written up again.

The next day, i was on shift and the Karen bought her husband in to “speak” with me. Part timer and i opened and this big ass, corn-fed, white boy, walks in, bobbing his head around like a rooster. I’m half-sleep behind the register because insomnia, so i let my part timer do her thing. I’m over yonder, full Sith mode, Decepticon hoodie full cowl and bad attitude, wishing a motherf*cker would. And a motherf*cker did. This motherf*cker is right red, trying to assail my part timer, again, just like his wife did before.Speaking of Karen, she’s out front, pacing the entrance like a shark, expecting the fireworks her beau was supposed to bring. Not today, Satan. My part timer was standing her ground, using a lot of firm language, but this motherf*cker is big and i start seeing him using that size to intimidate.

I, immediately, physically step between dude and my part timer. He’s about three inches taller than i am so he presses my gangster. I pull back my hood, and tell him i’m the manager of the store but i can clock out and just be a n*gga in the street if he wanted the Smoke. He didn’t want the Smoke. I called him a b*tch to his face, his wife a cock-gobbling hoe, and his mother a slut. He still did not want the Smoke. He bailed. His wife started gassing on him for being a b*tch as they both shrunk away like the cowards they really were. Never saw either one after that. I didn’t get written up for that though. No f*cks given. Bad Manager life. Gang gang, n*gga.