#i'm still not over the flour just appearing

[punkshort]

i know who you are | 5. the dinner

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: Everything seems perfect until it all unravels. Emotions come to a head and the big lie is revealed.

Chapter Warnings: language, angst, pining, alcohol use, eating, flirting, sad!Joel, amnesia, slow burn, minor infidelity, one use of 'daddy', big ol' emotional argument (lots of mean and hurtful things get said)

WC: 9.5K

Series Masterlist

By some miracle, you didn't end up getting sick, although it took most people in town a full week to recover from the flu. The infirmary was packed every day and Nick regularly expressed his endless gratitude that you chose to work for him. Maria and Tommy isolated as best they could in their home out of fear their daughter would get sick. When the townspeople slowly began to recover, they were itching to do something, so they decided to host a dinner.

One thing you hadn't done in ages was bake. You used to do it often, something you found rather soothing and rewarding long before the world went to shit, so you decided to make something to bring to dinner. After exploring your pantry, you discovered you had the right ingredients to make a simple pie crust, so you got to work mixing and rolling out the dough, getting so lost in your thoughts that you didn't even hear Joel walk through the front door.

When he heard you working away in the kitchen, he walked softly towards the entryway and leaned against the frame to admire you. He crossed his arms and smiled to himself when he saw the bits of flour smeared across your cheeks and your hair a little disheveled, your appearance not a concern to you as you worked.

It was the sweetest thing he had seen in a long time. He almost felt bad when you suddenly sensed his presence and looked up, disrupting your flow.

"Don't mind me," he said with a smirk before strolling over to the table to sit. "Whatcha up to?"

"Making a pie," you told him as you pinched some flour between your fingers and scattered it over the counter. You picked up the sticky ball of dough and sprinkled that with a bit of flour, as well, before grabbing the rolling pin. "Thought it would be nice to bring something with us tonight."

Joel nodded and picked up an apple from the bowl on the table. "That's nice of you," he said before taking a bite, "I'm sure they don't expect us to bring anythin'. They're just bored outta their minds and lookin' for someone to play with their kid for a while."

"Hey! I need those!" you scolded when you heard the crunch. He paused his chewing and looked down at the apple in his hand before stretching his arm out to you with a grin.

"Here you go," he said, mouth full. You laughed and shook your head before focusing on the dough once again.

"Keep it," you said, "I'll still have enough."

He leaned back in his chair and watched you diligently roll the dough out until you achieved the level of thickness you desired and then laid it gently in a buttered pie pan.

"Can you help me peel?" you asked when you came over to grab the bowl from the table, and he couldn't resist reaching out to dust away the flour from your cheek. You looked at him in surprise and he gave you a small smile.

"'Course I'll help," he said, standing up to grab two knives from the drawer. After giving yourself a moment to recover from his unexpected touch, you joined him at the counter, placing the bowl between you both as you began to peel in a comfortable silence. It had been almost two weeks since you saw Ben outside the tailor, and although you always looked for him whenever you walked to and from work, you never crossed paths with him again. You had been hoping to corner him to try to get more information before confronting Joel, but you had no such luck. So, with a deep breath, you cleared your throat and focused on your apple before speaking.

"Joel?"

"Hm?" he replied, his brows pinching together as he carefully worked his knife around the apple in the palm of his hand.

"Can I ask you a question?" you asked as your pulse began to thrum faster in your throat.

"Sure," he said, still laser focused on his task.

"Who are the Fireflies?"

His hand slipped and he dropped the apple and knife, pulling the pad of his thumb into his mouth with a hiss. You gasped when you saw a few drops of dark red blood on the cutting board and put your knife down before grabbing a somewhat clean towel and handing it to him.

"Is it bad?" you asked, taking a step forward to try and see his injury before he wrapped it in the towel. He shook his head.

"Nah, I'll live," he said, studying the cut for a second before applying pressure again.

Still, you rushed to the linen closet to grab the first aid kit and brought it downstairs. "Rinse it under the water," you instructed him before opening the bag and rifling around. He did as he was told and watched you pluck out a bandage and a small bottle of antiseptic. "Show me," you said, and he held his hand out to you so you could examine the cut. He studied you up close while your attention was focused on his thumb, taking in every feature on your perfect face and inhaling your familiar, comforting scent while you bandaged him up. If this was what it took to get you close to him, then he was ready to injure himself every damn day.

"You're good at that," he murmured, flexing his thumb when you were all done. "Learnin' a lot from Nick?"

You packed up the first aid kit, avoiding his heated gaze. "Yeah, I guess so," you said, turning back to your apples. Ever since Joel caught the flu and you helped nurse him back to health, it felt like there was a shift in the air between you. He was more brazen with his touch, like when he wiped the flour from your cheek, and while you never asked him not to touch you, your feelings for him were complicated. Until you could figure it out, you had been trying your best to not allow yourself to get caught in his orbit.

It was proving to be more difficult than you expected.

"Why don't you go sit down, I can finish these up," you said, your eyes cast down on the apples. You felt him regard you silently for a moment before he pushed off the counter and went back to his spot at the kitchen table. It was obvious what he was doing. It was the exact opposite of what you were doing. He was trying to create a charged moment, and you were trying to avoid them.

"You didn't answer my question," you said, and his energy immediately shifted.

"Where'd you hear 'bout the Fireflies? From Ellie?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady. You looked up at him, confused.

"Ellie? No," you replied, shaking your head. "I ran into Ben a few days after our visit. He thought you had already told me about them and seemed a little skittish when I didn't know who they were."

You watched him closely, refusing to look away as he tried to mask his anger, but you could still see it. His jaw tensed and his uninjured hand clenched into a fist in his lap while you waited for an answer.

"So?" you prodded, cocking your head to the side. His nostrils flared for a second before he took a deep breath and turned his head away.

"The Fireflies were the group the three of you had joined before comin' to Jackson," he began. You tried to focus on peeling your apples but you were working incredibly slow, not wanting to miss a single word. "You were with 'em for a couple years. They had a decent setup, kept you all safe. Better than the QZ."

"Okay," you said slowly, picking up another apple. "So it was a community like this one?"

He huffed and shook his head, "Not exactly. More like an army. They're a revolutionary group. They rose up against the military and took over QZs with the promise of givin' control back to the people, but..." he trailed off and scratched his beard. "Wasn't all that simple. They killed alotta people in the process, and in the end, civilians still suffered. Didn't end up matterin' who was in control when both sides were just as violent."

"Oh," you said softly, setting your knife down, "so I joined because of what happened to my family? Because the military killed them? And then I ended up killing innocent people, anyway?"

Joel shrugged and stood up. "Like I said, we all made decisions the best we could with what we knew at the time. You didn't know any better. Nobody did."

"Did you join them, too?" you asked.

"No," he said, pressing both palms flat against the counter as he looked at you.

"So why did Ben seem to think telling me about the Fireflies would cause a problem with us?"

His mouth pressed into a thin line and you saw the suppressed rage flicker across his eyes again. "Fireflies ain't exactly well received by most people," he said, "lotta people here had family that was hurt or killed. Innocent bystanders caught in the middle of a war they didn't start."

You swallowed nervously, apples long forgotten as you braced yourself for your next question. "Did the Fireflies hurt someone you loved?"

Joel's gaze dropped to his hands and he clenched his jaw. He wanted to tell you. He should have just fucking spit it out and told you everything, but at the last second, he chickened out.

"No."

And you may not have known him as well as you did before the accident, but you knew him well enough now to be able to tell when he was lying. You tried to hide your disappointment by picking your knife back up and getting to work.

"Are there others?" you asked him, and he lifted his head up, "other former Fireflies who live here?"

"Aside from you three? Just Tommy."

Your jaw dropped in surprise and your eyes snapped up to him once again. "Tommy?"

"Mhmm, just for a little while. You didn't know each other before Jackson," he said, anticipating your next question. "Fireflies are a big group. Spread out all over the country."

"Oh," you said softly, looking back down at your half peeled apples which were slowly becoming brown on the edges. You began peeling again, faster now, as you thought about everything he just said while he watched you carefully from the other side of the counter. You weren't sure what else to say. It felt like he was telling you the truth, but you still had a hunch he was leaving something out.

"Y'know, it's a miracle I didn't eat half that damn pie before we got here," Joel said teasingly as you walked up the porch steps to Tommy and Maria's house. "Whole house smells like Christmas now. Drove me crazy all afternoon."

You smiled and smoothed down the blue blouse you found tucked away in your closet. It wasn't a top you could envision yourself working in, it looked a bit too nice for that, so you thought dinner would be a perfect time to wear it, combined with a dark pair of jeans that were relatively clean and only slightly frayed on the bottom. At the time, you thought it was cute when Joel came downstairs with his hair slicked back and his flannel tucked into his jeans for once, but when you walked into Tommy and Maria's and found the house to be filled with four married couples from around town, you suddenly felt uncomfortable.

"I didn't realize anyone else would be here," you murmured quietly next to Joel as you slid off your coats.

"He mentioned they may invite a few others but I didn't think this many," he told you, taking your coat and hanging it up before looking around. They had two tables covered in linen pushed together in their dining room which was alight with candles and sprigs of pine and holly spread around the middle, giving the room with a warm and romantic atmosphere. You swallowed nervously and all of the sudden, the evening felt too much like a date.

"Hey, you two!" Tommy's voice rang out from the kitchen, startling you out of your reverie. "Glad you could make it," he said, tugging Joel into a hug before giving you a chaste peck on the cheek.

"Um, here," you said, holding out the pie, "didn't want to come empty handed," you explained with a little smile. Tommy's eyes lit up when he took the pan from you and gave the pie a quick sniff.

"Damn, smells good, Sugar," he told you, his cheeks already rosy from the liquor he had been working on before you arrived. He shot Joel a playful look as he headed into the kitchen, handing Maria the dessert. "Your girl can bake, Joel. Lucky man."

The tips of your ears went hot and you looked away uncomfortably before Joel could catch your eye.

"I'll get us a couple drinks," Joel said, ignoring Tommy's comment, much to your relief. "What'dya want?"

You glanced around the room and what the other women were drinking before shrugging and suggesting wine. He followed Tommy over to the living room where they kept their liquor locked up and away from their toddler, who was gleefully playing with another woman you didn't recognize. Popping your head into the kitchen, you spotted Maria all by herself working on dinner.

"Maria," you said with a smile, and she turned around with a sigh of relief.

"Hey, I'm dying here, can you help me?"

"Of course," you said, rolling up your sleeves. "What do you need?"

She put you to work right away, chopping up vegetables and dumping them into boiling water before helping her thicken a sauce she was making for some pasta. You were just about to taste test the product when Joel and Tommy joined you in the kitchen with the drink that he promised.

"Smells so fuckin' good in here," Tommy said loudly before taking a generous sip of whiskey and giving Maria a quick peck on the lips. Joel put your wine glass near you on the counter and you shot him a thankful smile before bringing a spoon up to your lips to taste the sauce. You winced and scrunched up your nose and Joel chuckled.

"It's missing something," you explained, putting the spoon back down as you examined the spices available to you while Maria was instructing Tommy on doling out the appetizers.

"Lemme try," he said, rounding the corner to stand next to you. You handed him the spoon and he held up his whiskey. "Hands are full," he told you teasingly, and you rolled your eyes with a grin before dipping the spoon back into the sauce and lifting it to his mouth. He leaned in and wrapped his lips around the spoon, closing his eyes and making a soft noise at the taste. Your knees suddenly felt weak and your face felt hot as you struggled to compose yourself before he caught you.

He opened his eyes slowly and ran his tongue over his upper lip to capture the remnants of the sauce and you had to resist the urge to swipe your thumb over his mustache to gather the rest. It made your breath hitch in your throat and you forced yourself to look away, mentally cursing your body's reaction to him.

"Lemon," he said huskily, then took a sip from his glass while still staring down at you. Your eyes drifted up to his and you saw that look again. The one that made you feel too many things at once: nervousness, excitement, pressure, confusion. So you took a deep breath and squeezed past him, having no choice but to brush up against his chest.

"You're right. It needs lemon," you said, finding one in the mess on Maria's counter and slicing it in half before squeezing it generously over the sauce. Joel leaned against the counter, one arm caging you in from behind as you worked. You tried to ignore how close he was but you could feel his breath on your skin and it was causing your pulse to race. Fortunately, Maria came to your rescue.

"How's it going?" she asked, and Joel pushed off the counter, stepping back to give you both some room.

"Good, I think the sauce is done," you told her, and after she gave it a little taste, her eyes lit up.

"So good!" she said, clearly pleased. You felt your cheeks heat up before gesturing towards Joel.

"Thank Joel. He thought of the lemon."

Maria shot Joel a smile and thanked him as he tipped his glass in her direction before taking another sip. "Happy to help, ladies," he said.

"Go enjoy the party, I got it from here," Maria told you, shooing you away.

"Are you sure? I really don't mind-"

"Yes, I'm sure! I'm just going to plate everything and we're good to go. Help yourself to some appetizers before they're all gone," she said, turning her back on you as she started pulling down serving platters.

You picked up your wine and took a sip, hoping to quell some of your nerves as you let Joel lead you into the living room where the party was in full swing. Tommy had his daughter balancing on his shoulders as he talked to a couple men, their wives at the other end of the room in the middle of a lively conversation. You chewed your lip, glancing back and forth before you took another sip and looked up at Joel.

"Guess I'll go see what's got them all worked up," you told him, nodding your head in the direction of the other women.

"You sure?" he asked with a frown. "Don't want you feelin' uncomfortable. We can stick together if y'want."

You shook your head and stepped away. "I'm fine," you told him before forcing yourself to join the other women. As you approached, you gave the women a friendly wave to catch their attention and they beckoned you towards them with open arms. They all seemed to be around your age range, give or take, and very friendly as they took the time to re-introduce themselves to you. You politely listened to them talk about their kids or jobs while you sipped your wine and nodded along. When three of the women became engrossed in a story about their children and school, you felt yourself begin to zone out. The girl standing next to you, Hannah, caught your eye and smiled.

"Do you have any kids?" you asked her, and she shook her head.

"Not yet. I don't think we're ready, you know?" she said, glancing over your shoulder at her husband. "But one day I think we will. How about you and Joel? What are your plans?" she asked, then her eyes went wide with embarrassment. "I'm so sorry. That was a dumb question, you probably don't... ah, I'm such an idiot," she said, and you laughed.

"No, you're not, it's fine," you assured her as her cheeks began to flush.

"I guess I just keep forgetting about your accident. That was so rude of me," she said, "I see you guys together all the time and it seems so normal."

You glanced over your shoulder at Joel, watching for a moment as he laughed heartily at something one of the other men said. "Yeah," you told her, turning back around, "I can see why you'd think that."

Her gaze drifted between you and Joel for a moment before she lowered her voice and took a step further away from the other women. "So you still don't remember anything, huh?"

You shook your head sadly. "Nothing. At this point, I'm not expecting anything to come back. I'm just trying to start over."

She nodded solemnly and took a sip from her wine. "How's it going with you two?" she asked, tilting her chin in Joel's direction. You sighed and rubbed your eyes. Same old questions, different person.

"Okay, I guess. He's been incredibly patient," you said, "but I think he is still holding out hope that my memory might come back and we'll just pick up right where we left off."

Hannah gave you a sympathetic look right as Maria approached with a big smile stretched across her face. "Dinner is served!" she announced to the room before bending down and stretching her arms out for her daughter.

Everyone began to scatter as couples rejoined and headed towards the dimly lit dining room. Joel appeared by your side, his hand hovering over your lower back as you waited for the other couples to take their seats.

"Havin' a good time?" he murmured, and you gave him a tight smile before nodding. Joel pulled out one of the two remaining chairs for you and you whispered your thanks when you sat down, then he pushed it back in before taking his own seat. He relaxed and stretched his arm across the back of your chair while he listened with amusement to Tommy drunkenly telling a story that had carried over from the living room.

"The table is beautiful, Maria," you told her, leaning away from Joel a bit. "It's so cozy and warm, you really outdid yourself."

She smiled as she bounced her little girl on her knee. "Thanks. We were just itching to do something, you know? We got a little cabin fever, I think."

You felt Joel's thumb brush lightly against your spine, making you shiver. But when you glanced over at him, he was still caught up in listening to Tommy and you wondered if those little gestures were intentional or if it was muscle memory.

Once everyone began to eat, Joel dropped his arm from your chair and you found yourself missing the warmth that radiated from him, confusing yourself even more. Sometimes you just wanted to hit your head against the wall and rattle your memories loose so you could stop feeling so conflicted. If you were this confused, you couldn't imagine what Joel was feeling. Although, at that moment, he seemed to be perfectly content as he stood up with Tommy to get another drink.

"Y'want any more?" Joel asked, nodding to your glass but you shook your head.

"Maybe later," you said, and when he caught your eye he gave you a quick wink before following Tommy back into the living room.

"So, how's it going at the infirmary? Still like it?" Maria asked, drawing your attention back to her.

"Yeah, I do, actually. That was a good idea, I've been meaning to thank you," you said, wiping the corners of your mouth with a napkin. "It feels good to stay busy and I'm learning a lot."

"Well, Nick always speaks so highly of you. Especially after that nasty flu worked its way through town. He said you were a godsend," Maria told you while simultaneously handing her daughter a steamed carrot.

"She was. Worked her tail off all week then had to deal with me when she got home," Joel said as he sat back down with a soft grunt. You smiled at him, grateful for the compliment.

"If he's anything like his brother when he's sick then I'm sure you've earned sainthood status," Maria said to you, making everyone laugh.

"Hey, what're you sayin' 'bout me down there?" Tommy slurred with a grin from the other end of the table. You were fairly certain Maria answered him with some sharp remark which made the table laugh again, but you couldn't exactly remember because Joel dropped his hand to rest on your knee and you suddenly couldn't think straight. Your skin felt hot under his touch, even through your jeans, and you could have sworn the whole room could hear how loudly your heart was pounding in your chest, so you anxiously grabbed your wine glass and finished the rest in one gulp, hoping it would steady your nerves.

You could have asked him to move his hand. You could have made an excuse, gotten up and used the bathroom, but you didn't. You remained perfectly still, allowing his hand to rest on your leg as you tried to focus on the conversation at the table. Because although your mind was saying one thing, your body was always reacting differently.

If you had known what would have ended up happening that night, you would have done something in that moment. Maybe if you had, it would have changed everything.

Instead, you sat there and didn't say a word. You just politely listened to everyone talk with Joel's hand still on your leg while your body and mind waged a war nobody could see.

When Maria stood to hand off her daughter to Tommy and clear the table, you joined her, finally ending Joel's grip on you. The other women stood while the men attempted to help but got shooed into the living room. When all the ladies were alone in the kitchen, Maria pulled out a jar of apple flavored moonshine that she told you all quietly she was hiding from Tommy because it was her favorite before passing it around for everyone to have a taste.

It was strong. Each of you had to stifle your coughs into your hands, which erupted into giggles and eventually caught the attention of the men, so you all did your best to distract them after they curiously poked their heads into the kitchen so Maria could hide the jar once again.

In retrospect, the alcohol didn't do you any favors. Your head was swimming a little by the time dessert was served and you found yourself inadvertently leaning into Joel's shoulder as everyone complimented your pie and he watched you adoringly while you waved off the praise.

The food was amazing, but combined with the drinks, you found your eyelids growing heavy as the party moved back into the living room and Maria took her daughter to bed.

"I think I'm going to get some air," you told Joel while everyone else got comfortable.

"You alright?" he asked, examining your face closely. You nodded.

"Just getting tired," you explained as you took a step towards the door, but he immediately put his glass down.

"Why didn't you say so? We can go home."

"No, it's okay-"

"You've been workin' so hard lately. You need your rest. Go get your things and I'll tell Tommy we're headin' out," he said, refusing to hear another word. And as much as you didn't want to tear him away from the party, you had to agree with him. The past couple weeks were physically draining and it definitely seemed like the exhaustion was catching up with you.

Once Joel announced your departure and everybody bid you good night, you each grabbed your coats and slid on your boots before heading outside. The brisk night air was a shock to the system and it helped wake you up a bit on the walk home. Joel wrapped his arm around your waist as you walked, holding you close to him, enveloping you with his warmth and when you inevitably reflected on that night, you would remember that moment as one on a long list of ways you were sending him mixed signals because you didn't pull away. Because as confused as you were about your feelings for him, you couldn't deny the attraction you harbored. And maybe it was partially your fault for not being stronger because you knew, you fucking knew Joel's feelings for you were far deeper than yours that night, and yet you still didn't step away.

When you arrived home and Joel fumbled clumsily with the door, you giggled, making him grin and his eyes light up at the sound before finally shoving the door open and flicking on a light. You shrugged off your coat and kicked off your boots with a sigh, the faint smell of apple pie still lingering in the air. You were happy to be in the comfort of your own home and eager to throw on your pajamas, but Joel led you into the kitchen first and poured you some water. You couldn't help but smile at how reminiscent it was from when he was sick and you did the same thing for him, so you took it and made sure to drink the whole thing while he watched with a pleased expression on his face.

"Did I tell you how beautiful you looked tonight?"

The glass was still pressed against your mouth, the last drops of water just swallowed, and you froze. Slowly, you lowered the glass to the counter and shook your head, unable to look away from his heated stare.

"Well, you did. Lit up the whole place. Prettier than all the other women," he said, fighting to remain still and not pull you into his arms. But he was losing that battle.

"Thank you," you said softly, forcing yourself to look away. It didn't deter him.

"I mean it. Couldn't stop thinkin' 'bout you. Talkin' 'bout you," he said, watching your face heat up as he blinked slowly. "Lookin' at you," he added after a quiet moment, and you laughed softly while you crossed your arms protectively over your chest.

"Joel..." you began, not even sure what you planned to say so you opted for staring blankly out the window just so you wouldn't have to look him in the eye.

"What, baby?" he murmured, taking a bold step forward and pinching your chin with his fingers. You dragged your gaze back up to him just to find his dark brown eyes all wide and filled with hope and tenderness as he stared down at you, his gaze flicking from your eyes to your lips, clearly displaying his intention but you still didn't step away. Your body wouldn't let you move.

"We're both drunk," you told him, trying to remain rational. Trying to stay clear-headed.

"Not that drunk," he quickly countered, his eyes still roaming your face, his fingers still pressing into your chin and you could feel your heart flutter wildly. Why on earth couldn't your mind catch up with your body?

You sighed, partially from the exhaustion, partially from the inability to properly express yourself but he took it to mean something else. He heard your sigh and thought you were finally giving in. That you were finally going to let him kiss you. Because why else wouldn't you have pulled away?

He leaned forward, his eyes slid shut, and although you should have known it was coming, it still surprised you. Your eyes stayed open wide as he inched towards you and finally at the very last second, you tilted your face to the side, causing him to press his lips against your cheek instead.

You felt his reaction before you could see it. His lips immediately tensed against your skin and his breathing stalled. Then his hand dropped from your chin and he leaned back, eyes no longer warm and inviting.

You tightly pressed your lips together in shame. "Joel, I'm sorry-"

"Don't be," he said quickly, cutting you off and backing away.

The hurt was evident across his face, although he tried to hide it by averting his gaze.

"I just don't think I'm there yet," you said after a long, tense moment. "I'm trying-"

"Yeah, I know," he replied harshly, turning on his heel and marching out of the kitchen. "I know you're tryin' to force yourself to love me. It's gotta be real hard, I get it," he spat, his voice so cold it made you shudder as he shoved his boots back on.

You choked back a sob as you watched him grab his coat.

"Where are you going?"

"Don't know," was all he said before flinging the door open and storming out, leaving you all alone in the entryway with tears slowly streaking down your cheeks.

What an absolute fucking idiot he was.

What was he thinking? That you would magically find him attractive again? Love him again? That he was worthy of your time and care and attention? After everything he did?

You didn't know, of course, but what else could it be, other than fate? Or karma? Or whatever it was, coming back and erasing all your memories of him to set things right? Because did he ever really deserve you in the first place?

No, definitely not. Not after everything he did.

His legs carried him blindly to the Tipsy Bison. It was a quiet night, and maybe had he been in the right frame of mind, he would have been surprised. Most of the town was cooped up the past couple weeks, under normal circumstances he would have thought it would be busier, but at that moment in time, he didn't care. He only cared about one thing: he needed to forget.

He motioned for Seth and he nodded in acknowledgment before pouring him his usual whiskey and setting it down. Joel snatched it up and immediately downed it with a wince before pushing the empty glass towards Seth.

"Another, please," he muttered before burying his face in his hands with a groan. Seth eyed him suspiciously before pouring his second drink and setting it back down on the bar.

Joel let the glass sit there a few minutes while he stewed in his anger. He wanted to blame you, but he couldn't. Not really. He knew it wasn't your fault but, fuck, he just wanted you back. He was so goddamn lonely that it made his chest hurt. He rubbed it absentmindedly before picking up his glass and forcing himself to take a slow sip. He had already drank too much at Tommy's and if he didn't want to wake up with a massive hangover, he had to slow down.

"Hey, cowboy," a familiar, flirty voice suddenly said from beside him. He tilted his head to the side and had to fight the urge to roll his eyes.

"Angie."

She smirked and pulled up a tall barstool, scooting her way up with a little grunt that made his stomach clench as he watched her maneuver in her tight jeans.

"What's got you so blue?" she purred as she took a sip from her drink and crossed her legs, her foot coming dangerously close to touching his calf.

"Who said I was blue?" he asked gruffly before taking another swig of whiskey.

She laughed softly and tossed her hair over her shoulder. "Kind of hard to miss," she said, resting her chin in her palm as she looked at him expectantly.

His eyebrows furrowed at her but she noticed the way the corner of his mouth twitched and she bit her lip playfully.

"C'mon, what's the matter? You can tell me, baby," she cooed, and he squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head.

"Don't call me that."

Angie pouted and leaned closer, her breath tickling his ear when she whispered, "Oh, that's right. How could I forget? You prefer daddy."

"Knock it off," he growled, turning away from her and ignoring the stirring below his waist, but it wouldn't be that easy. It never was.

She rested her delicate hand on his forearm and his muscles twitched, but he didn't move. As much as he hated to admit it, he missed being touched. And in that moment, any touch would do. She smiled and slid her hand up his arm slowly, and he let her, his eyes fixed somewhere in the opposite direction as he tried with all his might to ignore it, to fight it, to stand up and fucking leave, but he couldn't do it.

"So tense," she murmured in his ear, and his eyes fluttered shut. "I can help with that, y'know." Her hand dropped from his shoulder to his lap and had Joel's eyes been open, he would have seen Seth's eyes widen in surprise before looking away. "We're real good at it, remember?" she continued, her fingers inching towards the seam of his jeans. But before she could reach between his legs, his hand grabbed her wrist.

"Stop it," he said weakly, forcing his eyes open to glare at her, but she just smiled sweetly at him and pulled her hand back.

"I need to use the restroom," she said, her voice sultry. "You remember where the ladies' room is, right?" she asked with a wink before sliding off the stool and swinging her hips as she strolled down the hall towards the bathroom. He groaned and rubbed his face roughly.

He wasn't sure how it happened. He wanted to blame the whiskey, he wanted to blame you, but at the end of the day it was all on him when he found himself shoving open the door to the women's room and crowding Angie against the sink, his mouth crashing down on hers hungrily.

It was only one tiny minute of weakness. When he realized his mistake, when he remembered her lips weren't anything compared to yours, when her noises were not the noises he wanted to hear, her touch not the touch he craved, he immediately stopped kissing her, pulling back and cursing under his breath.

Angie looked at him, her eyes dark and her cheeks flushed, then took a step forward but he held up his hand.

"No," he said a bit too loudly, the whiskey making his head swim as he stumbled backwards towards the door. She rolled her eyes and grinned.

"C'mon, Joel. When are you going to realize she's not coming back? You need to move on," Angie said sweetly. Too sweetly. "You deserve to be happy," she added, and he frowned when the enormity of what he had done dawned on him through his drunken haze.

"Stay away from me," he warned her, reaching for the door and yanking it open.

"Fine. But just remember: you followed me in here!" she shouted after him as he disappeared down the hall. He snatched his coat from his barstool and jogged towards the exit.

He had to get home.

The carpet should have been worn to the floorboards by the time Joel finally came back. You had been pacing around the living room, chewing on your fingernails nervously as you replayed the entire evening in your head. The guilt was fucking suffocating you. You couldn't help but feel like you were partially to blame, but you would have broken his heart if you let him kiss you without fully understanding how you felt first, and he didn't deserve that. Maybe once he cooled down, he would understand.

When you heard his slow, heavy footsteps walking up the porch stairs, your heart leapt into your throat. The door creaked open slowly, as if he expected you to be asleep and he was trying to be quiet, but when he closed the door and saw you standing in the middle of the living room, your arms wrapped around yourself, his face contorted into a grimace.

"You're still up," he said, voice a little raspy as he hung up his coat.

"Joel, I'm so sorry," you began, "I'm just so confused. I'm still trying to work out my feelings but I don't want to rush into something and risk hurting you."

He swallowed and hung his head in shame, unable to look at you.

"Please don't apologize," he whispered, but you kept going.

"Of course I'm going to apologize. I sent you mixed signals and I ended up hurting you anyway."

"I did somethin'," he blurted out, and you froze mid-sentence, waiting for him to elaborate. Silence filled the room, your eyes drifted around aimlessly before you sunk down onto the edge of the couch and tucked your hands under your thighs.

"What did you do?" you asked, your voice wavering when you realized he still hadn't looked you in the eye.

He took a steadying breath and propped his hands on his hips, his face still angled shamefully towards the floor. "I kissed someone else."

His words hung heavy in the air, your deep, ragged breaths the only sound filling the room as your tired mind tried to make sense of what he just said.

"What?" you finally asked, voice deathly quiet. He forced himself to look at you now, his dark eyes brimming with tears.

"It was a mistake-" he began, voice thick with emotion, tongue heavy and clumsy between his teeth, but you stopped him.

"Just now?" you asked incredulously, your stomach turning sour. Fighting the nausea back down with a harsh swallow, you spoke again. "You tried to kiss me, I shot you down and you just... went out and found someone else?"

"That's not what I left to do, it just happened-"

"Who?" you asked, your gaze stony as you continued to stare at him, anguish and regret flickering across his face.

"Does it matter?" he tried weakly, softly, but it just pissed you off even more.

"Yes," you hissed, slowly standing back up on now shaky legs. "Who, Joel?"

His throat bobbed and he shifted his weight and when he mumbled Angie's name, you saw red.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" you whispered, quickly closing the gap between you and shoving him hard against the chest, causing him to stumble back in shock. When he looked you in the eyes, all glassy and cold and distraught, his blood felt like ice in his veins.

He was losing you.

"Please, lemme just explain-"

"What could you possibly have to say?!" you exclaimed, your body growing hot with rage. Hands shaking so badly you had to cross your arms to hide the tremor. "I was taking too long to fuck you so you went out and found a sure thing?"

"I didn't fuck her, but I could've!" he yelled back, an angry vein popping out of his neck at his sudden outburst. Your eyes went wide and you took a step back in surprise. He didn't know why he was yelling. He knew it wouldn't help, but he just snapped. "I never once pressured you to sleep with me! I gave you your space an-and respected your boundaries," he was flailing now, his thoughts scattered as he desperately tried to make sense. "But I'm a human fuckin' being and I got drunk and I was lonely and I made a fuckin' mistake! And I'm sorry, alright?!"

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. "You're lonely," you repeated, the words like poison on your tongue, and he frowned. "What about me? I'm lonely, too! You know what the first question is out of everyone's mouth ever since my accident?" you asked, glaring up at him, anger rolling off both your bodies. "They ask me how you're doing. You! Like this was some tragedy that only happened to you! But I lost fucking everything in the blink of an eye!" Tears began to burn the backs of your eyes now but you pushed on. "My world literally turned upside down in an instant and everyone just kept waiting for me to get with the program, including you!"

"That's not true," he said, shaking his head angrily, "I never pressured you to do anythin'!"

"It's the way you look at me!" you cried, wiping the tears from your cheeks. "You don't even realize you're doing it but you keep looking at me, expecting to find the woman you fell in love with but she's gone, Joel!"

You both fell silent, staring at one another, shoulders heaving as you each sat with the weight of your words.

"I don't care," he finally said, lowering his voice. "I still love you. I told you that first day. What we got is rare and special and I'm not givin' up on us."

"Then how could you go kiss someone else the first time there's a bump in the road?" you asked, tone hurt and dejected, then you turned and headed up the stairs.

"I told you, it was a mistake," he pleaded, following you. "I'm so sorry... wait, what're you doin'?" he asked when he realized he had followed you into your room. You were snatching clothes from the drawers and tossing them onto your bed, and that's when he really began to panic.

"I can't stay here," you said, disappearing into the bathroom. His vision narrowed and his legs became weak as fear flooded his veins.

"No," he whispered, but you didn't hear him. You were busy gathering a few toiletries from the bathroom and tossing them on the bed along with your clothes, but when you walked past him to get a bag, he grabbed your arm.

"Don't do this," he begged. You yanked your arm out of his grip and stepped back, glaring at him and he realized in that moment he would rather have you there screaming at him for the rest of the night than not have you there at all, so he kept talking. He kept pushing.

"Y'know, for someone who says she doesn't have feelin's for me, you sure seem to be pretty pissed off," he glowered, and your eyes widened. That's it, he thought, let me have it. "If you don't want me, if you don't give a shit 'bout me, then what the hell does it matter if someone else does?"

You gasped, his words like a punch to the gut. Like a blade to your heart. Without thinking, your arm swung back and your palm cracked loudly against his cheek, stunning you both into silence.

He wanted to rub the spot, to help soothe the pain with the tips of his fingers, but he resisted. Instead, he let his cheek redden so you were forced to see what you did.

"You think I don't give a shit about you?" you seethed once you found your voice, palm stinging at your side, eyes flickering between his eyes and his cheek.

"Sure seems that way," he countered, and your jaw clenched angrily as the next round of tears began to well up.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" you yelled, your hands balling into fists at your sides. "How dare you. You made me give a shit about you, you asshole!"

You shoved past him and headed down the hall to the spare room in search of a duffel bag, but Joel was hot on your trail. If he let you leave, he would never get you back.

"The hell does that even mean?"

You whipped around, making him stumble backwards, your eyes wild and bloodshot. "You told me you would make me fall in love with you again! This whole time we've been getting to know each other, building up our relationship and you think after all that, after everything we've shared, that I don't give a shit about you?"

"Well-" he began, but you cut him off.

"I took care of you when you were sick. I sat next to your bed for a full week, waiting for you to fall asleep, making sure you had everything you needed," you said, your voice growing quiet as hot tears spilled down your cheeks. "You told me about your daughter. I told you about my brother," you whimpered, your voice cracking on the last word. Joel's face fell when he finally realized how broken you were, the full weight of his actions realized. "How could you say that to me?" you sobbed, burying your face in your hands, your cheeks hot and wet in your palms. Your head ached. Your heart ached. You needed this to end.

"Oh, god, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean it," he told you, stepping forward and pulling you into his arms. You only let yourself melt against his broad chest for a moment before you sniffled and pushed him away. Turning around, you snatched the bag from the ground and stormed past him.

"Tell me how to fix it," he pleaded as he followed you back into your room.

"You can't."

His head was pounding, throat scratchy and dry as he watched you pack from the doorway, his chest tightening with each article of clothing that passed through your hands.

"Please. Stay. I-I-I won't even talk to you if that's what you want, just please stay."

You paused, your eyes squeezing shut as you silently cried over your bag. "You want me to stay, Joel?" you asked, voice trembling, and even though weren't looking, he nodded.

"I'll do anythin'," he said earnestly, and you opened your eyes. Reaching for your journal, you flipped it open to a well worn page and tossed it on the bed. He frowned at it, confused, but stepped forward and picked it up.

"Then tell me what you lied about."

His eyes scanned the page, reading the four words over and over. Joel lied to me. No context, but he didn't need any. He knew.

You could see the conflict in his face as he tried to figure out a way around it.

"The truth. Or I'm gone," you said firmly, and when his eyes flicked up to yours, you saw fear.

He slowly turned around, the journal held delicately in his massive hands, as he sat down onto the edge of your mattress.

"Okay."

The shock made your tears slow to a stop.

"Okay?"

"Yeah, okay," he repeated, his tone somber as he stared down at your journal in his lap. "What's the difference now, anyway? You already hate me."

I don't hate you, you thought, but you remained silent.

"If I tell you, you promise not to leave?" he clarified, and you thought about it for a moment. What if it was something really bad? But you knew you wouldn't get the truth out of him any other way, so you nodded. You figured if you still left and ended up becoming a liar, then at least you would be even.

"I told you 'bout the Fireflies," he began, and you got the feeling the story was going to be long so you sat down on the bed.

"Yes."

"You, Ben 'n Lisa were all part of a group out in Salt Lake City," he said, his gaze pinned on the journal. "In a hospital. Doin' research."

"Research? I don't know anything about-"

"You weren't doin' the research. The three of you were just guards. Patrolmen. There were doctors there, and they were lookin' for a cure," he continued, then took a deep breath before lifting his chin and staring at a fixed point on your wall.

"Did they find one?" you asked, remembering that first day when Joel told you about the outbreak. You had asked him at the time if there was cure and he said no. That couldn't be the lie, could it?

"Well, they were close," he said, his brow pinching together. "This next part is somethin' that's gotta stay in this house, y'hear me?" he asked, finally turning to look at you. "Y'gotta promise me that no matter what you end up thinkin' of me, you can't tell anyone 'bout this part."

You didn't want to make that promise. Why would you, after everything he had put you through? But, still, you found yourself nodding slowly, then his next sentence knocked all the air from your lungs.

"Ellie's immune."

Your lips slowly parted as the shock coursed through you, your eyes slowly drifting down to the comforter. Your mind was blank except for Ellie's immune, Ellie's immune playing on a constant loop.

"It's why you didn't write anythin' else, I reckon," he explained, holding up your journal. "Didn't want anyone to find it."

You slowly began to put the pieces together. A research hospital. Ellie's immunity. They were close to a cure.

"The Fireflies thought they could use Ellie to create a vaccine," he said after a long pause. "And I took her to 'em. Took her right into the lion's den," he said with a dry chuckle. "Didn't realize til after they took her that they would've had to... kill her to get what they needed."

Your eyes darted up to meet his again as you listened, entranced.

"Nobody knows, okay?" he said, his voice wavering a bit. "Only Tommy. No one else can know. Her life depends on it, d'you understand?"

You nodded, still unable to find your voice, so he continued.

"When I realized what they were doin', that they would have to kill her, I just..." he trailed off and scratched his chin, looking away, eyes distant. "I lost it. It's the only way to describe it."

"W-what do you mean?" you asked, your voice barely a whisper.

"I killed alotta people," he said, voice cold and detatched, "alotta fuckin' people. Whoever got in my way, I just... didn't think twice. 'Til you."

You inhaled sharply, almost forgetting you were somewhere in that hospital.

"Me?" you squeaked.

"You didn't see my face," he said, his voice beginning to shake. "None of you did. The three of you were together. You surrendered. Had you face down on the ground with your hands behind your head. Told me you were plannin' on ditchin' the Fireflies anyway. That you wouldn't come after me." His hand trembled in his lap and he made a fist.

"You weren't the first ones to say that to me, but you were the first ones I let live."

You pressed your palms into your face, trying to quell the ache behind your eyes as you rocked gently back and forth on the bed, heart thundering in your chest, blooding pumping too fast. The exhaustion was too much. You could hardly make sense of what he was saying.

"You almost killed me," you said, more of a statement than a question, your voice muffled through your hands.

"Yeah." He watched you carefully, trying to read you, desperately searching for some small glimmer of hope underneath all your rage and confusion.

"Then what?" you forced yourself to ask, pinching the bridge of your nose.

He ticked his jaw to the side and looked away.

"Then... Ellie 'n me came here. Started over. Tried to forget," he sniffed, pulling at a loose string on his shirt. "Then the three of you showed up couple months later. Scared the fuckin' shit outta me, but none of you seemed to recognize me."

"Because we never saw you," you said, and he nodded.

"I didn't speak to you for over a month. I was so scared you'd recognize my voice or somethin', but I just couldn't stay away from you," he said, his eyes softening now. "Then that night at the bar happened. When you came up to me and-"

"Yeah, I remember what you told me," you replied, not eager to relive that story at the moment.

"Then the rest is history. We started messin' around. You didn't know who I was for a few months, then I finally told you."

"After you were already fucking me," you said coldly, and he winced.

"After I fell in love with you."

You sat back and rubbed your eyes. You had so many questions. What was your reaction when you first learned who he was? If you stuck around, you must have seen something in Joel that made you feel safe. Why did he spare you? Was it only because you couldn't identify him? And how much did Ellie know?

"Please say somethin'," he begged after a few tense, quiet minutes.

"What do you want me to say?" you asked him, your shoulders sagging forward, limbs too heavy. "You want me to forgive you? You want me to say I understand?" He shook his head but you kept talking.

"You spared my life just to break my heart."

He turned away from you as his face crumpled. "I'm gonna fix it," he said, his throat tight and voice thick as he fought off the tears that were threatening to spill down his face. "I'm gonna make it right, if you just-"

"Can you go, please?" you asked quietly, "I have nothing else to say and I'm fucking tired."

He looked over at you but you refused to look up, your puffy eyes fixed blankly on the floor. His gaze drifted to the bag and clothes littering your bed and he asked, "Are you stayin'?"

You didn't answer. You just slowly stood up and flung your comforter back, some of your clothes falling into a heap on the floor but you didn't care as you crawled into bed and turned your back to him.

Begrudgingly, he stood. His eyes flicked around your room nervously, his fingers fidgeting at his sides while he chewed on the inside of his cheek, struggling to come up with the right words to say.

"Go!" you sobbed from underneath your blankets, hiding from him the tears that were soaking your sheets.

So, he left. Not because he wanted to, but because he caused you enough agony for one night, and as much as he wanted to stay and beg on his knees for forgiveness, it would be the selfish thing to do. Instead, he went to his bed and stared at the ceiling, barely sleeping the entire night because his body jerked awake at every little creak the old house made, wondering when he woke up, if you would be gone for good.

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A/N: Yes, there will be a happy ending 😘

[dewwinchester]

next. | d.w.

request: @rustic-guitar-notes: "can u write a little cutesy piece basically about reader and dean living a very normal life and leaving hunting?? like they have a whole house together and sam visits sometimes and it’s all just soft and NORMAL."

synopsis: this is written as a sequel to done, however, it can also be read as a standalone fic.

pairing: dean winchester x female!reader

word count: 2.6k+

warnings: fluff - she/her pronouns used - no use of 'y/n' - a smidge of angst if you squint - a surprise Sam appearance - Eileen mention! - pet names used (sweetheart)

a/n: this took me FOREVER i'm so sorry!! but I hope this makes up for it <3333 (also eileen is blurry wife confirmed by me)

Why did cooking have to be so difficult?

The instructions stared up at you from your phone screen, mocking your efforts. You had no trouble following directions and were confident you had done everything perfectly. Yet, your kitchen was beginning to fill with smoke, and the burger patties on the stove—the patties you had spent hours putting together—were starting to fall apart and burn.

There was stuff everywhere. Herbs were all over the counter, white flour-handprints covered your shirt, and you were certain some of it was in your hair. Flecks of ground beef were on your tiled walls and floor (which, thankfully, your dog Miracle cleaned up right away). Salad ingredients littered your bench space, leaving you little to no room to move.

You were beginning to feel claustrophobic. This kitchen was a lot smaller than the one you were used to.

You were accustomed to the bunker, with its vast countertop space, where anything you needed was within arm's reach and easily spotted. Currently, what little kitchenware you had was hidden behind cabinet doors, and you were still getting used to the setup.

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes as you felt your heart rate begin to accelerate. You felt stupid. All you wanted to do was make a nice meal, and cooking was simply reading and following instructions—why couldn't you just do that?

Just when you thought things couldn't get any worse, a shrill beeping rang through your house.

The smoke alarm.

Panicked, you fumbled to turn off the stove and wave away the smoke, desperately trying to silence the alarm before one of your nosy neighbours came knocking at the door. When the beeping finally stopped, you returned to the stove, sighing at the blackened mess that was left.

It didn't look too bad. You were sure that you could fix it simply by scraping off the burnt bits; no one would even know just how badly you messed everything up.

You decided to turn your attention to something that only an idiot could mess up—chopping. You were once quite skilled with a blade—a year ago you would have been using it for something entirely different, like chopping off the heads of vampires or other various creatures that went bump in the night. Today, however, you swapped a machete for a chef's knife. Most of your weapons were carefully packed away, with only a few small trinkets and books to remind you of your old life as a hunter.

You sliced lettuce, tomato, and cucumber, being sure to tuck your fingers away and allow the knife to rock against your knuckles, just like the professionals did on television.

You were so focused on perfecting your chopping technique that you barely noticed the sound of keys turning in the lock or the front door swinging open. The sound of footsteps behind you went unnoticed until you felt a hand on your shoulder.

Out of pure instinct, you spun around, knife gripped tightly in your hand as a surge of adrenaline washed over you. You raised the blade towards the potential assailant, holding it a breath's distance away from their neck, your knuckles turning white. You could hear your heart pounding in your ears and your breath hitched in your throat at the sudden movement. Your brain was telling you to strike, to move on the enemy before it was too late, but the gentle hand that curled around your wrist caused your defensive stance to falter.

“You gonna stab me, sweetheart?”

"Dean?" you breathed, immediately pulling the knife away from his throat. Your heart was still thundering away, but the buzz of energy in your system had subsided to a gentle hum. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Well, I thought I would come home early and surprise you," he said, taking the knife from your hand and placing it on the countertop. "I didn't think you were gonna Long-Kiss-Goodnight-me."

“I’m sorry,” you sighed, anxiety and embarrassment quickly replacing the adrenaline. “Old habits…”

Dean took you by the shoulder and pulled you toward him, wrapping his arms around you in a tight embrace. He placed a firm kiss on the top of your head before resting his chin there. You melted into him and snaked your arms around his middle, feeling every worry melt away. He smelled like work: fuel, oil, and metal, and despite washing his hands copious times, there were still motor oil stains on his skin. Normally, the smell would have had you scrunching your nose up and ordering Dean into the shower, but for the first time, you couldn’t find yourself caring.

“How was work?” you asked, pulling back to look up at him. His hair was scruffy, the ends standing up in a hundred different directions. It was longer than Dean usually allowed it to get, but he told you he wanted to “experiment with the length” (you weren’t going to admit that the thought made you ever so slightly giddy).

"Pretty good," he replied, furrowing his brows for a moment as he wiped a patch of flour off your forehead with his thumb. "Some guy brought in an old Mustang. Got to—"

His eyes tore off you, looking towards the mess you left on the stove.

"What the hell—"

"Don't ask," you grumbled.

"What did you—what even—"

"I thought I said don't ask."

Dean picked the frypan up off the stove, inspecting the charred contents, and you felt like shrinking inside yourself. He looked over to the chopped ingredients on the counter before turning back to you.

"Dinner…?"

"I tried," you gave up. "I really did. I thought I would do something nice and surprise you, but apparently, I'm the world's worst cook."

Dean wasn't going to admit it, but you were right. You could make a mean bowl of cereal and a damn good cup of coffee, but when it came to toasting, baking, or frying, it usually ended with someone needing to get the fire extinguisher.

Your face fell into your hands—the tears were back, and you tried your best to hide them, but your shaky breaths immediately alerted Dean.

"Hey," he said with a light chuckle. He pulled you back towards him, one hand on your back, the other holding the back of your head. "It's all good."

"No it's not," you said, voice muffled by Dean's embrace. "I used to be good at something. Now I'm not good at anything."

"What d'you mean?"

"I used to be good at—at hunting. I used to wake up every day knowing exactly what to do and when. Now I can't even make a meal without messing up. At least you're good at something."

Dean nodded, fully understanding. It had been roughly six months since your last hunt, since you'd both hung up your hats and said goodbye to the life forever.

Surprisingly enough, Dean settled into your new life faster than you both had thought. He had gotten the mechanic job right off the bat and quickly fell into a routine. It was good for him. He had something to look forward to every day. He had new skills that he was able to put to use.

You, on the other hand, were finding things a little more difficult. You had no experience doing anything, making finding a job damn near impossible. You found yourself itching to check for the latest missing persons case or some kind of sign of the next apocalypse. You busied yourself by walking the dog, by cleaning the little house you rented in Kansas, by reading dozens of books.

Dean never pushed you. Instead, he let you adjust at your own pace.

Sure, there were still nights where one of you would wake up from a nightmare a sobbing, shaky mess, where visions of blood, death, and monsters flashed behind your eyelids. But you were always there for each other with comforting touches and words—you were each other's beacons of light when things began to grow dark again.

“I’ll tell you what,” he said, hands moving to your shoulders. “You are gonna head out, grab a pizza from down the street. I am gonna stay here and tidy up.”

“But—”

“Then,” he continued, “We’re gonna settle in for the night. Couch. Beer. Movie.”

“Fine,” you sighed, a smile creeping back onto your lips.

Your car smelled like pizza as you pulled into the little cul-de-sac where your house was. Three boxes sat on your passenger seat, and you had to refrain from reaching over and snagging a piece before getting home. Dean would have your head if you started without him.

You passed several houses on your block that looked somewhat similar to your own before your little house came into view. It was smaller than the others, but it made up for it with a massive front and back yard. It had a brown roof, beige-yellow walls, and a wooden door. For most people, it wasn’t much to look at—many of the people who inspected it had turned their noses up and laughed at it.

It wasn’t much, but it was home.

Upon pulling into the driveway, you noticed another car parked on the side of the road up ahead. The sight of it brought a wide smile to your face.

Sam.

It had been days since you last saw him. After spending all day every day in the Winchesters’ pockets, you had felt strange not seeing Sam constantly. After everything, Sam had become one of your closest and dearest friends—he was like an older brother to you. He knew everything about you, and you knew everything about him. You could talk to each other freely without judgment—he just got you.

You quickly parked your car, grabbed the pizza boxes, and headed inside.

You could hear Sam and Dean before seeing them. After years of hunting, stakeouts, and sneaking around, you were surprised the brothers weren't a little more subtle. Six months ago, you would have assumed they were arguing about something, but as you approached the front door, you actually heard them laugh.

You pushed the door open and headed inside, immediately greeted by Miracle. He sniffed around your feet and tried his best to investigate the pizza boxes in your hand, his tail wagging profusely. Dean took the pizza boxes from your hands, shot you a wink, and took them into the kitchen. Miracle quickly turned his attention away from you and followed the smell of the pizza. Traitor.

"Hey, stranger," Sam said, standing at the end of the entryway, hands stuffed in his hoodie pockets.

You threw your keys on the small bench near the front door and practically ran over to Sam, throwing your arms around him in a tight hug. You had to stand on your tiptoes to reach him.

"This is a nice surprise! Long time no see," you said, pulling back to take a look at him. He looked well-rested—happy—and there was a glint in his eye that you couldn't quite put your finger on. "How's Eileen?"

"Good," he lowered his head, the look in his eye now spreading to the rest of his face. A smile crept across his lips, the kind that had your brows furrowing in interest. "Yeah, she's real good."

You made a mental note to ask about it later.

"Pizza's gettin' cold!" Dean called, which caused you and Sam to roll your eyes in unison.

After indulging in five slices of pizza and three beers, you were completely stuffed. The boys had spent at least forty-five minutes arguing over which movie to watch, so the film—which should have ended by now—had only just started playing on your TV. You teetered on the edge of post-meal drowsiness, your eyes drooping. You fought hard against it; you wanted to stay awake and catch up with Sam, to hear more about how domestic life was finally treating him.

You felt content in your surroundings, and the knowledge that both your boys were here safe made you feel warm. The couch beneath you was soft, and with your head resting in Dean's lap, you felt even more comfortable. His thumb rubbed against your shoulder in small circles, and the rhythm of his touch eventually sent you off to sleep entirely. You had lost the fight.

“She asleep?” Sam asked in a whisper, gesturing with a nod towards you.

Dean shifted ever so slightly and cast his eyes down to you before nodding. "She wouldn't stop askin' me to invite you over. Thought the surprise would keep her buzzed for hours."

Sam chuckled, "Y'know, she can invite me over whenever she wants?"

"Man, if she had it her way, you'd never leave."

Sam smiled, and the two sat in comfortable silence for a moment, until his eyes grew concerned. He sat forward and grabbed the TV remote, turning down the volume until the film playing was barely audible.

"How's she doing?" he asked.

Dean shrugged, "Can't tell. Sometimes she seems okay. Then… I don't know…"

"What do you mean?"

"Came home today and found her in the kitchen. She was freaking out about dinner—"

"She's never been the best cook."

"I know," Dean said, "but she started tellin' me she wasn't good at anythin' anymore."

Sam's brows furrowed, "It'll take her some time to adjust. I mean, we aren’t exactly the best examples of settling into the real world."

“I keep tellin’ her that, but I don’t think she believes me.”

At that moment, Sam wished for nothing more than for you to wake up. He wanted to tell you about the several times he’d attempted a normal life and failed, how the hunting life had an iron-grip hold on him for years until he finally felt the time was right to cut free. But he decided to leave it for another time. You looked too peaceful.

But he knew that you would be fine. You always were. Aside from his brother, you were one of the strongest people Sam knew.

"How're things going with you and Eileen?" Dean asked. "Honeymoon phase over yet?"

A smile tugged on Sam's lips, "Yeah… I uh—I guess it kinda is."

"Dude, already? What did you do?"

"Nothing," Sam defended. "We've just found a routine. Settled in…"

"And…?"

Sam's hands swiped down his face as he sat back on the couch with a huff. His foot bounced against the floor, his eyes drifting from his brother to you and then back again.

"I wanted to tell you guys together."

Confusion flashed across Dean’s face as he sat up, careful not to jostle you around too much. “Wanted to tell us what?”

Sam let out a breath, “Eileen’s pregnant.”

Silence fell over the lounge room—the only sound being that of the soft dialogue coming from the television. The confusion on Dean’s face slowly morphed into shock, then confusion again, before a grin broke out.

“Are you serious?”

Sam nodded.

“You’re—you’re serious?”

Sam chuckled, nodding again.

There was something about it that Dean couldn’t believe. His brother—his baby brother—was having his own baby. It felt like just yesterday that he was picking him up from Stanford. The man next to him was no longer that college kid; he was starting his own family.

The thought made Dean look down at you. He wondered what it would be like to do all of that with you. Sure, the two of you had spoken about it here and there—marriage, family, the whole nine—but it never really went any further than that.

Dean’s brows furrowed as he looked up from you and back to his brother.

“She’s gonna kill you if she finds out she missed this.”

Sam laughed quietly, which caused the corners of his eyes to crinkle. “Well then, how ‘bout I stay the night? I’ll tell you guys in the morning… Just—try to act surprised. For our sake.”

“Deal.”

[petermorwood]

Potato Crisps / Chips on Tasting History

So we've just watched Max's latest...

...and I was grinning a bit because I posted about Dr Kitchiner's 1817 (non-US, definitely non-Saratoga) crisps / chips recipe a month ago.

That image was from an American edition of his book; I've found a pic from the original - NB that these slices are floured before frying.

For reference, here's a two-penny piece from about 1797; the coin would still be current 20 years later:

...and here's how thick the potatoes should be sliced. That's 4mm, which is 2mm less than "a quarter of an inch" (6.25mm).

The slices will get even thinner as their moisture evaporates during frying, and, given the nature of recipes, potatoes cooked this way are probably even older than 1817 and Kitchiner's is just the first appearance found so far in print.

*****

The first recipe for "Game Chips" (an accompaniment to grouse, pheasant etc.) appeared, per the Wikipedia link, in a 1903 book published by famous chef Auguste Escoffier (1846-1935):

"Chip potatoes - these are potatoes cut into thin slices; this is usually done with a special plane. (A mandoline.) They are put in cold water for 10 minutes; then drained, dried in a cloth and fried until very crunchy. They are served hot or cold and generally accompany game roasted in the English style."

However, per Escoffier's Wikipedia page, much of his work was based on that of Anton Carême (1783-1833), whose dates are squarely coincident with Dr Kitchiner's Potato Slices.

Given the amount of cookery to-and-fro between England and France after the Napoleonic wars were over, it's impossible to say who first came up with the idea of potato crisps.

The French loved dainties - "un petit quelquechose", a little something - which the English pronounced and dismissed as "kickshaws", something over-fussy yet insubstantial. Yet those same English also loved roasting things with their appropriate accompaniments.

(I'm writing this just over a week after Christmas, and have been well reminded that the phrase "Roast (turkey / goose / beef) With All The Trimmings" is still in common 21st-century use.)

If those roasted things were game birds, only those above a certain level in society would be eating them, so it's not unreasonable to assume a rich-person game bird would attract fussy, time-consuming rich-person trimmings like, okay, Game Chips.

One thing's for sure, Potato Crisps - and Game Chips too, so hard luck, Escoffier - are almost certainly older than even Tasting History could prove.

*****

BTW, they also existed at a time when "English Food Was Bland" is more fake history.

Sauces put out on the table in fancy bottles had fancy labels ("bottle tickets") showing what was in them, and the contents were often far from bland.

Quin sauce was anchovy-based, hot and pungent.

Harvey's was a spicy sauce similar to Worcestershire, ketchup was probably mushroom and also spicy; the other two need no elaboration.

AFAIK the two crescent-shaped ones in the next pics are deliberate imitations of an officer's rank-gorget.

Finally a generic Not-Bland label that would go on any number of modern bottles (antique silver, yours for £250)...

*****

And after all of the above, I could do Very Bad Things to a packet of Tayto Cheese 'n' Onion. A packet?

Why stop at a packet when A Pack takes less time to say?

After all, It Is Written that:

"Reading One Book Is Like Eating One Potato Crisp Chip."

And also that Nothing Exceeds Like Excess...

[lemoncrushh]

Anniversary Pancakes

Summary: Harry and his daughter make breakfast for his wife on their anniversary

Warnings: None, cutesy family fluff (very small mention of sex at the beginning)

Word Count: 1264

A/N: From my 2016 collection, this is written from Harry's POV.

I was in love with her. After six blissful years of marriage, I was still as much in love with her as I'd been the day we said "I do."

I woke up before she did, thinking about the night we'd shared. I'd made love to her three times, each time bringing her to the brink as she called out my name. Then we'd laid in each other's arms, whispering sweet nothings, exchanging confirmations of our everlasting love. The sun was just starting to rise, a blueish glow streaming through the curtains. I laid in bed watching her for a good ten minutes, her chest rising and falling as puffs of breaths escaped her lips. She was so beautiful, it took all the strength I had not to wake her up with a gentle kiss. But I wanted to let her sleep. Today was our anniversary, and I had plans.

I sauntered into the kitchen squinting my eyes when I flipped the switch, light illuminating the granite countertops. I started the coffee brewing, knowing that's the first thing my love likes when she wakes up. Opening the refrigerator, I pulled out the eggs, milk, cheese, spinach and bacon. I'd just finished whisking the eggs in a bowl when I heard the pitter patter of little feet on the hardwood floor.

"Morning, Daddy," my little girl said softly as she appeared around the corner, her tiny fist rubbing her eye.

"Morning, princess, what are you doin' up so early?"

She merely shrugged before reaching her arms out to me for a hug. I set the bowl down on the counter and lifted her into my arms, giving her a kiss on her forehead.

"Whatcha makin'?" she asked me.

"An omelet," I replied. "For your mum."

"What's a omnet?"

I giggled as her mispronunciation. "Omelet. It's eggs with stuff in it."

My daughter made a face, showing me she did not approve. I shook my head and set her down on the nearby stool to watch me. I got the first pan ready for the bacon.

"Daddy, I'm hungry," I heard behind me as the bacon started to sizzle.

"What would you like to eat, love?"

"Pancakes."

I chuckled. "I don't think I know how to make those all by myself. Can you help me?"

"Uh huh!"

I flipped the bacon over before turning to my little girl.

"Will you get me a bowl from under there?" I pointed to the cabinet next to her.

"Okay."

She hopped off her stool, eagerly searching for the bowl she knew her mum had used to made pancakes in before. When she came up with it in her little hands, a satisfied grin on her face, she handed it to me.

"Here you go, Daddy."

"Alright monkey," I said. "First I need some flour. Do you know where that is?"

Her little arm immediately shot out across the counter, her finger pointing to a canister.

"In there?" I raised a brow, teasing her. "You sure?"

"Uh huh," she nodded. "The big one is flour."

I grabbed the large canister and lifted the lid, widening my eyes.

"What do ya know! There's flour in here!"

My daughter giggled, covering her mouth. I winked at her, dropping some of the flour into the bowl. Then I added baking powder, salt and sugar.

"Will you stir that for me while I grab this bacon off the fire?"

I lifted her back to her stool, handing her a big spoon. I removed the bacon from the stove while she stirred.

"Good job," I remarked. "Now we get to add the egg."

"Can I do it?" she pleaded.

"Uh...how 'bout we add it together."

"'kay."

I cracked the egg gently as I covered her hand that held it, opening it with precision, careful not to get any shells in the bowl.

"What am I missing?" I narrowed my eyes, putting my finger to my chin.

My little girl shifted her eyes back and forth before giving me a big shrug, her hands in the air.

"Butter!" I exclaimed.

I quickly grabbed some from the fridge, warming it in the microwave to melt. I let the little one pour it into the bowl while I started heating the griddle. Then grabbing the whisk once again, I handed it to her.

"I like the whisk," she commented, her S held out longer than the other letters. I smiled as I watched her move it around the bowl.

"Here, bug," I said, covering her hand again, showing her how to whisk the ingredients.

Her wee little tongue poked out of the side of her mouth in concentration. I brushed her hair back with my other hand, kissing the side of her face. God, I loved my family.

"Alright," I chimed. "Time for pouring."

My daughter watched as I poured the pancake mix onto the griddle. While I waited for it to bubble, I poured my previously prepared egg mixture into the second pan to make my wife's omelet.

I'd just folded the eggs and had made two good pancakes when I heard a little voice say cheer "Mommy!"

"Hi, precious," she said, her voice still groggy from sleep.

Our little girl hopped off the stool once again to wrap her arms around her mum.

"What's all this?" my love inquired, lifted her head to look at me.

"We made breakfast!" our daughter danced.

"You did?" Her eyes were locked on mine.

I grinned at her sheepishly, setting down the spatula. Then I pulled her to me, planting a soft kiss to her lips.

"Happy Anniversary," I murmured against her mouth.

She leaned her forehead against mine. "I love you."

"I love you more."

"Daddy?"

"Yes, monkey?" I asked, even though my eyes were still on my wife.

"What's a ammivassy?"

I grinned. "It means your mum and I love each other a whole lot. And today is the day we celebrate."

My beautiful woman's face beamed back at me as I took it in my hands, kissing her once again.

"Harry..." she said when she broke the kiss.

"Yeah?" I asked, my lips pressed to her jaw.

"Something's burning."

"Shit!" I exclaimed.

I tore away from her to remove the scorched pancake from the griddle. As I cursed under my breath, I heard her chuckle behind me. Luckily, it was only one pancake. And I was able to save her omelet. I felt her hand on my back as I poured more of the mix.

"This is wonderful," she whispered in my ear. "You're wonderful."

Her arms wound around my waist as she rested her head on my back. Then she kissed my neck before backing away. I winked at her as she poured herself a cup of coffee, adding the creamer she liked.

"C'mon, precious, let's go sit at the table so we can have this delicious breakfast you and Daddy made."

I slipped an omelet onto a plate along with bacon, setting it in front of her. Then I gave my little girl her stack of pancakes, covered in syrup before making a plate for myself. I ate with my gorgeous ladies, another morning of complete joy.

My wife smiled at me as she ate, a look on her face that told me something else was on her mind. Perhaps she woke up thinking about last night too.

"I love you," she mouthed silently.

I was about to declare my love in return when my little girl spoke.

"Daddy?"

"Yes, love?" I turned to her, giving her my undivided attention.

"When is our ammivassy?"

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[thezombieprostitute]

Would werewolf Steve take me apple picking and help me bake apple pie and let me boop his nose with flour? I’m in a very fall mood today.

I haven't thought about Werewolf Steve in such a long time!

Warnings: Mild/implied smut.

The Northern Forests are absolutely gorgeous this time of year. All the different leaf colors make the forest look breathtaking. The only thing more beautiful, to Steve, was you.

It's been over a year since you woke up to a muscly, hairy man rowing you down the river to get medical assistance. In that time you and Steve grew closer than he imagined he could ever let himself get. You were more curious than afraid of his wolf side. You showed him unending trust that he longed to live up to. You even got him willing to go out and interact with people more and more.

While the two of you were living in the middle of nowhere, you focused on your nature photography and conservation efforts, and Steve found himself getting back into painting and drawing. It was a side of himself he had shut down in favor of keeping himself, his wolf, under control. After his first transformation around you, where you hadn't run in fear, and he hadn't attacked you, Steve soon learned his wolf needed freedom, not a prison. His artistic side, his protective nature, his need to look after others, those were the things that would keep his wolf side from destroying everything around him.

So when the autumn hits, Steve is more than happy to take you to some of the nearby farms and orchards. He's gone from being a recluse to feeling excited to go out and do things with you. He makes sure you don't have to do any of the heavy lifting, almost appearing to have inhuman strength until you chide him. He can be a little careless about keeping his werewolf nature a secret when it comes to showing off for you.

Other than that, things go well until you have an almost literal run-in with one of the young men working at the orchard.

"Ope, sorry about that, Ma'am," the young man quickly apologizes.

"It's fine," you assure. "I should've looked where I was going."

Steve is standing behind you, your back to his chest. You swear you can feel his growl. The young man makes the briefest eye contact with him before ducking his head and carefully backing away, still apologizing. You try to turn around to look at him but Steve wraps his arms tightly around you and runs his nose along your neck.

"Steve, you can't do that," you scold him. "It was an accident."

"He touched you," Steve quietly growled. "Almost hurt you."

"Steve? Are you...are you okay?"

He nips your neck, making your breath hitch. "Need to get you home."

"We gotta pay for these apples, first," you tell him. He grumbles but acquiesces.

At home, Steve doesn't even let you grab the apples out of the truck, mumbling promises of getting them later. He's thrown you over his shoulder and is carrying you into the house. You laugh and call him a caveman, causing him to smack your ass. He gets you on the couch before ripping your clothes off of you and throwing your legs over his shoulders.

Several hours later Steve keeps his promise of getting the apples for you. You're sitting at the table because your legs aren't working at the moment. He actually looks guilty as he places the baskets of apples on the table for you.

"I'm sorry about that," he says. "I don't know what came over me. I just...I know it was an accident but seeing that guy touch you, I...I guess I got a little..."

"Territorial?" You finish for him.

"Yeah, that," he nods. "I had this uncontrollable urge, a need, to cover you in my scent. Mark you as mine."

"Well you certainly succeeded," you chuckle. "Now get to helping me peel and slice some of these apples for pies."

Steve smiles. Domestic bliss was something he was certain he'd never be allowed after becoming a werewolf. But you've upturned his world in the best possible ways. You turned this place from a house to a home, making it a refuge, not a Fortress of Solitude. As you carry on with the baking, filling the kitchen with the delightful aromas of apples and cinnamon, Steve still can't keep his hands off of you. His excuse is that you were so weak kneed before he's gotta keep his arms wrapped around you so you don't fall. He doesn't even bat an eye when you boop his nose with a flour covered finger. He just wipes off the flour by nuzzling your neck, making you laugh.

As the night approaches, Steve's wolf becomes more awake. Steve can tell it's trying to get his attention about something but he can't figure it out. That night he's more restless than usual, but it's nowhere near the full moon. Not wanting to worry you, he tells you he's going to go do a territory check to burn off some energy. Though he's gotten better about transforming in front of you, he still waits until he's sure you're asleep before doing so.

In wolf form, Steve takes a deep breath, gathering information. There is something different. Something that wasn't there before. He wants to investigate it but his wolf form is in charge and is insistent on doing the territory check. It seems extra focused on security. He spends much of the night making his rounds before finally investigating the source of the new scent. As he gets closer to home, the scent shows up again. It grows stronger as he gets inside the house. Maybe it's the apples? The baking? Steve thinks. He swears he feels his wolf roll its eyes at him.

They get to the bedroom where you're sleeping and that's when it hits him. She's pregnant! Steve's wolf lightly growls in confirmation. The two are aligned in this moment in their desire to keep you, and their pup, safe. But how is Steve going to tell you?

Tagging: @alicedopey; @darsynia; @delicatebarness; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @ronearoundblindly

[rosenclaws]

Happy Birthday Old Man || Old Man!Logan drabble

warnings: none, maybe a little sad

a/n: I can't believe Hugh is 56. He's now 33 years older than me. For now. (it'll be 32 next week but that's not much better oops)

come join my discord server!

Logan's back ached worse than normal today. It's been a pretty shit day to be fair. The fall weather only made his bones creak more and it's homecoming season meaning all those asshole rich kids with daddies money rent a limo. Stupid high schoolers who think they're being sneaky with their drinking making a mess in his car. He charged double the price after one of them puked all over his seats.

Glancing at the clock in his limo he sees that its finally time to go home. His mind drifts as he drives and drives. Only thinking about you as he nears closer to home. A part of him wonders why you're still here. He can't give you the best life. He can't give you any life. He's dying. Still you stay with him. Taking care of him. Why? He'll never really understand. As he pulls into the dark driveway he sees the lights still on in the kitchen.

"Honey," He calls as he stumbles inside.

"Logan!" You smile as you appear from the kitchen. It's nearly 3 in the morning and yet the smile on your face stays. He collapses into a chair. Groaning as his bones creak and pain shoots through his whole body.

"I'm alright." He says with a tired smile, he's lying but he can't stand to see you look so pitiful. Not at him. You sigh as you go over and start to massage his shoulders. Kissing his forehead as he melts into your touch.

"Are you hungry?" You ask. He nods. To be honest he doesn't really eat much anymore. At least nothing healthy. You disappear into the kitchen only to come back covering something with your hands. Slowly you move your hand to reveal a small cupcake with a candle in it.

"What's this honey?" You place the cupcake by his side and smile.

"It's your birthday." He furrows his brows as he thinks. Was it really? God he lost track of his birthday a long time ago.

"You sure?" You laugh and bring the cupcake up to his face.

"Very. Charles told me a while ago. I know that you aren't big on celebration but..." You drift off, starting to regret your silly little idea. He breathes in and blows out the candle. Suppressing a cough as he plucks the candle out.

"Thanks." He digs his finger into the frosting. It's sweet, just like you. It's also homemade. He can see the flour on your face and clothes.

He almost feels guilty. For being the lucky one who gets your love. All your hard work just to make him a cupcake for the birthday he forgot about. What could he have possibly done to deserve this? He rips off a piece of the cupcake and holds it up to your mouth. Feeding you the soft cake and getting frosting on your face.

"Logan," You gently scold him. Picking up some of the frosting yourself and smearing it on his cheek.

"Hey!" He smacks your hand away and pulls you into his lap. He kisses the frosting off your face and you gently wipe away the frosting on his cheek. He groans when he moves just a little too quick and you get off of him immediately. Settling in between his legs instead.

"I'm fine honey, promise." You smile and rest your head on his knees. You try to hide your sadness as you look at the man in front of you. You love him and you don't know how much time you have left with him. But you push that thought away. It's his birthday. Another year and he's still here.

"Happy birthday Logan." You stay by his side as he rests in the chair. Basking in the soft moment for as long as you can.

"Thank you honey," Happy birthday to the old man.

Now all you can do is hope he makes it to his next one.

[beomboomboom]

Recipe for disaster

genre: fluff, established relationship

pairing: Soonyoung x reader

summary: You should've known better than to leave Soonyoung alone in the kitchen to make some pancakes. After all, everyone knows that Soonyoung + kitchen makes a recipe for disaster

warnings: a little bit of a cooking fire

note: This fic has genuinely made me laugh so much, and I hope it'll make you laugh too. Enjoy reading <33

Soonyoung is good at many things, but cooking is definitely not on that list.

In fact, you've learned (the hard way) that if you leave him alone in a kitchen, there's a 50 percent chance something will end up on fire (most of the time it's food, but you swear one day it's going to be your house).

So, when you woke to the sound of clattering coming from the kitchen paired with the empty space next to you on the bed, it was easy to put two and two together.

Hurriedly shuffling out of bed, you make your way to the kitchen where you're met with the sight of a singing Soonyoung clad in your tiger-print apron that he gifted you for Christmas, as he gets out a big bowl from the cabinet.

"Love, what are you doing?" you ask with a tense smile, interrupting your boyfriends' cooking and singing session.

"I'm cooking breakfast for you! Pancakes!" Soonyoung exclaims with a smile. "Surprise!"

You feel your heart melt when you hear Soonyoung's loving intentions, but that fondness quickly turns into fear when you see him beginning to measure the ingredients.

Or to be honest, It shouldn't even count as measuring, it was more like eyeballing.

Eyeballing, but he wasn't really using his eyes.

You watch in horror as he attempts to pour a little bit of salt from the bag into the bowl, but ends up tilting the salt bag a bit too much, causing a huge amount of salt to end up being poured instead.

"Oops." Soonyoung says with a sheepish smile. "It's okay though, I'll just add more of the other ingredients so it'll cancel the salt out." Soonyoung says with a confident smile, assuring you everything is fine.

"You can just take out some of the salt-" you begin to suggest before becoming speechless at the sight of Soonyoung pouring half a bag of flour into the bowl, then squinting and pouring a bit more for good measure.

"Soonyoun-"

"Wait this breakfast needs to be a surprise," Soonyoung interrupts you at the realization as he starts to gently push you out of the kitchen.

"I think I could help you out a little-" you start to protest.

But your boyfriend quickly pushes you back into your room and assures you everything will be alright. "Rest a little more, I'll tell you when things are ready." He says while tucking you back into your bed. "And don't worry, I got this all under control. Nothing will go wrong."

It only took 15 minutes for things to go wrong.

"AHHHH—FIRE!!!"

You jolt up from the bed the second you hear Soonyoung's hysterical scream from the kitchen.

"THERES A FIRE! HOW DO YOU MAKE IT GO AWAY."

Quickly jumping to your feet, you hurriedly make your way to the kitchen. When you reach the kitchen you're met with the sight of a panicked Soonyoung as he frantically tries to fan out the smoke that's coming from the stovetop.

"I was going to the bathroom but then I forgot the stove was still on so I—AHH" Soonyoung begins to explain before yelping at the sight of another bright orange flame appearing.

"No, don't fan the flames you're making it worse," you say with a groan as you quickly run to the sink to wet a cloth and throw it over the flames.

As you and Soonyoung watch the flames slowly subside, you both let out a sigh of relief. Coughing because of all the smoke, you slowly stand up and begin to clean up the mess.

"I'm sorry. I was just trying to make you a nice breakfast and now it's all ruined—" Soonyoung says, the disappointment evident on his face.

"It's okay, you tried your best. Let me help you cook next time though," you say with a reassuring smile as you give Soonyoung a small pat on the shoulder. "How about we order some carry out for breakfast instead?"

"Okay! Let me get my phone," Soonyoung says with an excited smile as he gives you a small peck on your smoke-covered cheeks and runs to his room in search of his phone.

You let out a small laugh before shaking your head. Needless to say, you wouldn't be letting Soonyoung anywhere close to the kitchen anytime soon.

[pygmi-cygni]

Hello Pygmi! I wasn't sure if your requests were currently open, but nonetheless, I was wondering if you could possibly write a Moon Boys x fem reader, where the reader has both ADHD and BPD.

If you feel uncomfortable with any of this, then please feel free to ignore.

That aside, I hope you have an outstanding day.

Cheers! 💞

for sure my requests are open!! also I did a bunch of research on bpd and I really hope that it isn't inaccurate PLEASE tell me (respectfully) if it isn't!! obv every experience is different so I tried to make it as general as possible.

content: angst with a HAPPY ENDING GUYS we have happy endings here ok? mentions of mental illness, hurt/comfort, fluff, insecurity, healthy relationship dynamics ftw, afab reader and very sweet cuddles

(I made it sad I'm sorry, oops but it is fluffy, dw)

It was one of those days. A little drizzly out, cold fog still curling around your ankles. It made the boys' hair curl wonderfully, little dewy drops of condensation sparkling on their waves. Although it did feel like a wet dog when Steven smashed his face in your neck for a hug.

"Steven, honey, you're soaked," you shrieked, flinching from the wet sensation. He laughed, shaking out his hair.

"Sorry, but the bus got stopped up so I thought I'd walk," he said sheepishly, hanging his sopping coat over the radiator. You wrinkled your nose at the water pooling on the floor.

These were your favorite days; nothing to do, nowhere to go, just a nice rainy day with a cozy flat. There was leftover soup in the fridge - Marc had taken to meal planning so you didn't stress about making dinner. You'd gotten all the laundry done during a hyperactive period where you speed-cleaned the whole apartment (you'd set a record, a little less than two hours!). You were exhausted, wanting nothing more than to sit on the couch and watch television.

Steven, now changed into warm, dry clothes, poured himself a cup of tea.

"Hey, love, Jake wants to go grab somethin' for his car, but we'll be back soon, yeah? Just a few brake pads or whatever," he explained, catching your tense expression. You thumbed the ring on your finger.

"Can you text?" you offered. He nodded around a mouthful of Earl Grey.

"Sure, love, we'll be back in a bit." He pressed a warm kiss to your cheek and ducked out the door, Jake's hat tucked under his arm.

You took a deep breath and counted to ten, reminding yourself of Steven's promise. It was really nice how the trio had stepped to with communication. You felt a little over-attached sometimes, but Steven put in a ton of effort to keep you in the loop.

Pulling a blanket from the dryer, you curled up on the sofa and drifted off to the sound of a movie.

You woke later to a still empty flat. Frowning, you turned off the television and sat up. The lights in the kitchen were still off, Jake's jacket and hat were still gone.

Why hadn't they come back yet? Surely it had been long enough.

You slipped on a pair of socks and padded through the flat, peeking in every room. You didn't want to call out in fear that the boys might have just gone to bed, but it appeared you were alone in the flat. Huh. Okay. Well.

A little agitated knot began to grow in your chest. Deep breaths. Small problem, this is a small problem. He's fine. Probably just a long line at the store.

Feeling a stronger rush of adrenaline, you went to the kitchen and pulled out a few ingredients. You'd bake something while you waited. It helped take your mind off his absence and also, you were hungry.

two cups of flour, half of sugar. a bit of salt. You hummed a song while you measured, laser focused on the mixing bowl.

one teaspoon of-oh. Steven said he'd text if something happened. Dropping the spoon, you rummaged around the couch cushions until you grabbed your phone.

No messages. You refreshed the app and got the same answer. Chewing your lip, you hovered over the bowl of half-mixed ingredients. should I reach out? don't wanna intrude, maybe they've got some Khonshu work.

Nevermind that. You should just finish the snack. Muffins were a good choice - you could eat them tomorrow for breakfast. There were bananas getting old on the counter, so in they went.

half of the batter with chocolate chips, half without. Jake always made sure to put a note on your recipe so you didn't forget. He liked the chocolate on the side.

The oven timer ticked down as you waited, licking the spatula clean. It was very late now.

it wouldn't hurt to reach out. You typed out something quick and finished the batter remnants.

hi love, hope you and the boys come home soon. x

You'd sent it to the group thread so that they'd all see it, no matter who was fronting.

The rain had started up again, but now the thrumming was irritating. Your agitation built, and you tugged at the hem of your shirt. laundry. do some laundry.

Yanking the hamper from the closet, you shoved all the darks into the small washer and slammed it closed. The heavy thud-thud-slosh-thud-thud echoed in the empty flat. The emptiness was tearing at your nerves.

You hadn't missed anything. No anniversaries, no dates, no meetings. All the errands were done. The big chores were done. Nothing big at work for Steven or you.

"Why isn't he home?" you huffed, pacing in front of the door. He said he'd be an hour. He promised-

it's okay. if he wanted to reach out, he would. they all would.

did he not wanna talk to you?

That idea send a cold sheen of sweat over your arms. Shuffling to the couch, you curled under the duvet and shivered. No, it wasn't that. Steven kissed you goodbye and promised. Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes and burrowed into the faint smell of Jake's cologne. Maybe he'd be here when you woke up.

Sleep did not want to come out, apparently. You tossed and turned for a while, ate a muffin, went back to the couch, ate another muffin.

It had been two hours before you heard Jake's muffled car door slam.

Your eyes were achy and tired, and a buzzing adrenaline headache had been thrumming at your ears.

Jake was halfway through the door when you yanked him inside.

"Hey, ba-"

"Why didn't you text?" You stared at him, eyes searching his surprised face. He blinked, slowly shutting the door and removing his hat. Grease was smeared on his forehead.

"I'm...sorry, baby, I got real busy," he said genuinely, pulling you in for a short kiss. You scowled and pulled back.

"But...but Steven said you'd text if something happened."

"Okay-"

"You didn't," you emphasized, flexing your hands anxiously. Jake paused, taking in your haggard expression. Realizing the issue, he set down the bag of supplies and gently tugged you forward.

"Hey," he whispered, rubbing his hands on your shoulders. "I'm sorry, amor. I didn't mean to let time get away from me, and it did."

"But-"

"I'm sorry I scared you, but me and the two were perfectly safe the whole time. I'd never intentionally shut you out, okay?" Jake looked at you again, eyes wide and sweet. He rubbed your cheek, the soft leather of his gloves grounding you.

"I'll remember next time. Look, I'll put a note in my phone." Still wrapping you tight to his chest, Jake set a reminder, letting you watch him type it out. txt when leaving.

Your irritation quelled, leaving behind a small inkling of shame. You curled into his shirt, still damp from the rain. Jake shucked his jacked and pressed a kiss to your hair. Out of the boys, he was the best at handling little escalations. He held you for a bit, casually stroking your head with his warm hands.

"Did you make something?" He asked, catching a whiff of the banana bread. You nodded, gesturing to the kitchen. Tugging you softly behind him, Jake grabbed a muffin and took a massive bite.

"it'sh good," he mumbled around crumbs, wagging his dark eyebrows. You smiled tiredly, feeling better already. He bumped your shoulder and flopped on the couch. His socks didn't match, you noticed, curling up into his side.

The silence wasn't so bad now that you could hold him. Jake's heart beat steadily under your ear, warm and soothing. He continued rubbing your back comfortingly. The muffin was gone, but the two of you still sat in silence. Sleep tugged on your shirtsleeves, and you were tempted to just pass out on his chest.

Jake nudged your nose with his thumb, tilting your chin up.

"Hey, c'mere," he said gently, pulling you up to his face. You averted his gaze, feeling shy from your earlier outburst. Jake squeezed you a little tighter, poking your sides until you squirmed and bit back a grin.

"I'm sorry," he said, eyes soft and warm. You met his gaze then, fighting through the awkardness. At his crooked smile, you melted, leaning forward to kiss his cheek.

"It's okay," you said, half-smiling back. Once he saw you relax, Jake's face broke into a bigger, crookeder grin.

"Oh, you can do better than that."

Diving forward, he smothered your face in light, sweet kisses. You giggled, shoving his chest back onto the cushions. The adorable attack lasted a few minutes, until your cheeks were pink and you were laying on top of him. Still laughing breathlessly, you snuggled tighter, taking a deep breath of his detergent.

Your hands laced together and you kissed him again, slower. Jake hummed, soft lips sucking gently on your tongue. He tasted sweet and tart, like...

"Did you go to the farmer's market?" You said accusingly, eyes narrowing. "You taste like danishes."

His eyes widened, caught in the act. "No! I ate a muffin, is all," he covered, cheekily kissing you again. His diversion did not work against your detective skills.

"No, you taste like cherries-"

"Amor, would I lie to you?" He said in mock offense, hand braced to his chest. Snorting, you made a move for the bags in the kitchen.

"Yes. Yes, you would," you poked out your tongue, causing him to stick his out right back. Your hand just brushed the edge of a pastry bag, when-

Shrieking, Jake scooped you off your feet, twirling you back to the couch and attacking your ribs. His warm hands were ticklish against your soft sides, and you quaked with laughter.

Dissolving into giggles, you both fought over the last pastry, cut in the shape of a heart.

I HOPE I DIDN'T MAKE IT TOO SAD! also sorry for taking so long!!!!!!

tags: @krakenkitty @ominoose @bulletgoth @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @justsomeonecalledemma

@iolaussharpe-24 @rosegnome @twwcs @heeheehoohoofictimr @steven-grants-world

@ael-xander @to-be-a-sunshine @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @silvernight-m

xox comment to join!

[luveline]

Lovely Jade maybe you could write something about Roan finding a kitten on the street and hiding it in her backpack

🧡.

thank you so much for your request! eddie and roan —roan's acting suspicious. you and eddie investigate. stepmom!reader, 1.5k.

Roan comes in through the front door with a sweet smile. Living in your cul-de-sac has meant you don't mind too much if she wants to go out to play alone, where before Eddie would insist on sitting on the porch of the trailer, worried someone would come barrelling down the road seventy miles an hour. 

"Hi, princess," you say, leaning down with your arms propped on the counter. You're putting the finishing touches on a drawing using the sunshine. Nothing special, just a sketch for fun. 

"Hey, mommy." 

You preen at the title. Being a stepmom is awesome, especially when she feels comfortable enough to call you mom. "Is it home time for Georgia?" 

"Yeah, she's gone home for dinner." 

"Are you hungry? Daddy's still at Uncle Gareth's, so I'm in charge of food."

You turn around when you get no answer, waving your pencil at an empty kitchen. "Roan?" 

"I'm coming back!" She shouts from the top of the stairs. 

You raise your eyebrows. "Okay!" you shout back. "I get to choose dinner, then? What's that, you want chicken pot pie?" You smile. Eddie loves chicken pot pie, especially when you make it. 

You put your sketchbook and pencil case on the kitchen table and spray down the countertops. The motions of cooking are well worn now; you know how to make every recipe for two and a half people. You wash your hands, grab the canned puff pastry, and get to work. 

Roan appears again as you're spreading a little bit of flour over the counter, running to the sink. She kicks her stepping stool to the counter and climbs up to wash her hands. She looks cagey.

"Anything I should know about?" you ask.

Roan squirts dish detergent into her palm, strawberry scented rivulets running between her little fingers before she's had time to rub it in. You set aside your rolling pin and pick up the soap to put a small dollop of it in her other hand.

"Say?" you ask, stroking her bedraggled hair away from her face. 

"Nothing for you to know about." 

You turn her head to yours, water spitting at your shirts as she washes her hands hurriedly. "Hey." You frown, gaze narrowing on a bloody scratch that's caught the bottom of her right cheek. "Aw, bubby, what happened?" 

"It doesn't hurt," Roan says flippantly. 

"You're gonna have to let me wipe it clean, still. Okay?" 

"Yeah, mommy. Whatever you want." 

You bite the inside of your bottom lip to tamp down an embarrassingly huge smile. "Okay. Good girl on the hand washing, you gonna help me make dinner, huh?" You kiss the top of her head. "I'm so lucky, my girl's so helpful." 

"Can I go get changed first?" she asks. 

"Yeah, bub. Want help?" 

"No!" she shouts hopping down off of stool. She'll probably have to wash her hands again when she returns, but you're too happy to care. She's gorgeous, she's a sweetheart, and she loves you like a mom. 

You turn back to the pastry and roll out the bottom of the pie. You'll refrigerate it while you make the chicken filling and the roux. Which one to make first? You might have done things in the wrong order. 

"Ro, are you almost done?" you shout, blinking back to attention. "Let me look at that scratch, babe!"

Arms around your waist. You thought you heard the door. 

"What scratch?" Eddie asks, dipping his face down to the juncture of your neck, where he plants a warm kiss. 

"On her cheek. I let her go out with Georgia, I hope that's okay. Only in our street." 

"That's okay," he assures you. He hugs you with kind arms, not squeezing like he tends to, completely and utterly loving. You can't hug him while your hands are covered in flour, leaning back instead to soak in all his affection. "What's the scratch from?" 

"Yet to be determined." 

Eddie hums and holds you. You cave in to dirtying him, painting his forearm with white fingerprints as you hug it to your ribs. You let your head flop back, tickled by his exhales where they kiss your neck. 

You and Eddie stand there in quiet bliss. Then, from upstairs, you hear a strange sound.

"Is Roan back in her cat phase?" 

Eddie tilts his head away from you. His hand retreats from your abdomen where it'd been resting, braced on your hips. "Ro…" He groans. "Not again." 

"Eddie?" 

He takes your hand. "She has a cat in her room." 

The meows become clearer the further Eddie leads you up the stairs. You wipe as much of the flour on your hands onto your pyjama pants as you can, but it's a mess. Eddie can't complain —how often does he get car grease on you? 

"Roan Ayla Munson," Eddie says through the closed door. "I better not find anything in there that I'm not supposed to."

You startle at the use of her middle name. You didn't even know Roan had a middle name until a couple of months ago; you always thought Eddie skipped giving her one. Apparently he thought Ayla was the same as Aella, an Amazonian fighter who wielded twin axes. Ayla, in contrast, means a few things. Bringer of light, in Finnish. Circle of light around the moon, in Turkish. Oak tree, in original Hebrew. You love all three definitions, but bringer of light feels most accurate. 

Bringer of cats might be more astute at the moment.

"I don't have anything, daddy!" 

Meow. 

"I think you're lying to me. Last chance, bubby." 

A vehement shushing noise, a meow, and a defeated sigh sound through the door. Weight hits the floor, footsteps creeping closer. You and Eddie wait in apparently very different moods for her to open the door. 

Roan holds a wriggling kitten in her small hands. She's wearing a nightgown over her sweatpants like she'd started changing and forgotten. Her arms are covered in red scratches. The kitten yowls when it sees you and Eddie, likely finding you both to be more intimidating than your poor girl.

"Oh, babe," you fret breathlessly, "Eddie, take the cat." 

"Dad–" Roan starts. 

"Look at your arms," he interrupts with a tandem worry, taking the kitten from her.

You pick Roan up with ease, careful not to touch her pale arms. She tries to explain herself as you carry her down the stairs, "I found her behind Old Man Michael's house, she looked so sad and you said we should be nice to everything we meet, even if we don't like the way they look," she says. 

"I meant about spiders and ants and stuff," Eddie says, holding the angry cat in front of his chest cautiously. "You know, we don't have to kill little creatures if we don't have to. I didn't mean you should kidnap kittens." 

"She looked hungry." 

You put Roan on the clean bit of counter between the stove and the sink and frown at her arms. "Sweetheart," you murmur sympathetically, "don't these hurt?" 

"Well, I…" 

You shoot Eddie a look. He stares the kitten in the eyes rather than meet your own, seemingly distracted. Fine, you'll try parent by yourself, even if you're no expert yet. 

"What?" you ask patiently. 

"I was hiding her in my backpack, but she didn't like it. She thinks it's too small." 

"I bet so." You're thinking, Eddie, what are we gonna do? And, Ouch, these are going to hurt. "Ro, is this how you got the scratch on your cheek? You're lucky he didn't scratch you in the eye." 

"I think he's a girl," Roan says. 

This is less important to you than the scratches, but you amend yourself anyways. "She could've blinded you." 

"I think you're in trouble, Ro. We already talked about this before, didn't we? No stray cats in the house," Eddie says.

"I already told you, dad! Rufus and Steve let themselves in, I didn't used to do that." 

You wash your hands swiftly and grab the first aid kit from under the sink, pulling out the blue disinfectant spray that Roan hates. She winces at the sight of it as you expected, pulling her arms against her tummy. 

"It won't hurt anymore than the scratches did when the kitten did them," you say gently.

Roan shakes her head. 

You put the disinfectant between her knees and lean in. "I'll make daddy make cookies, yeah? You be brave and let me clean your scratches and we'll have warm cookies and ice cream."

Eddie breaks out of his stare off, taken aback. "It's her own fault," he says, though he's smiling. 

"She was trying to do a good thing. And look at her little arms, Eds, hasn't she been punished enough?" you ask. 

The kitten kicks its legs weakly. "What the heck are we gonna do with her?" Eddie asks. 

"We could keep her," Roan says. 

"Don't push your luck, Roro." 

You lift the disinfectant spray. Roan seems apprehensive still, so you look her head on and wink. "I'll try my best," you whisper.

Roan holds out her arms with a grin.

[cambion-companion]

Saw the piggyback ask and I remembered this scene in fifty shades where Christian is carrying Ana over his shoulder and they pass one of the house employees on the way to the 'playroom'...

And now I'm thinking of Aemond doing that with his wife - not because she's drunk, she was extra bratty (on purpose) so he just slung her over his shoulder and now he's taking her to their chambers to teach her a little lesson🤭

Alicent and Criston Cole appear from around the corner just in time to catch a glimpse of Aemond entering your chambers with you over his shoulder and there's this brief moment where you make eye contact with your mother-in-law who knows full well her son is going to rail you in about two minutes...

Gods be good🤣

hahaha I absolutely adore both of these ideas guys!

Prepare for another drabble!

Aemond x reader | domestic shenanigans | mention of his brothel experience | reader goes a little feral | Aemond has to reign her back | part two? | mild smut nothing explicit | sorry I am a tease for the ending I KNOW

“You looked for Aegon where?”  You closed the book you had been reading, placing it upon your knee, looking up at Aemond’s disheveled appearance.

“The brothel, The Blooming Rose, as it were.”  Aemond removed his cloak, hanging it by the oaken door before turning back to where you sat.  “He took me there when I was thirteen.”  He hesitated. “The…madam recognized me.”

The discomfort in your husband’s voice caused you to rise to your feet, the forgotten book tumbling to the ground. “Was she indeed?”

Aemond’s violet eye looked everywhere but into your face. “She seemed pleased to see me.”

His hands clenched at his sides, you reached forward but he shied away from your touch, turning away, his posture rigid.

“I’ll be back.”  You said, striding with purpose to the door, yanking it open and making your way down the corridor.  

Your blood was boiling, the expression on Aemond’s face had caused your heart to clench.

“Y/N, wait!”  Aemond caught your elbow, spinning you to face him. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going to have some words with this Madam of the Blooming Rose.”  You pried yourself free of his grip, walking away from him once more.

“No, you’re not.”  Aemond touched your waist as he kept pace with you, watching your fury unfold with something akin to awe.  “You will not put yourself willfully in harm’s way.”

“I am harm and she is in my way.”  With each step, you became angrier, the image of your husband’s fear fresh in your mind’s eye.  

“Wife.” Aemond stopped you once again, his fingers locking securely around your wrist. “Charging into a brothel with the intent to cause chaos is not something I will allow you to do.”

“Allow me?”  You seethed, trying to yank your hand away from his iron grasp. “Just try and stop me!”

You freed yourself, only for Aemond to grab you roughly around your waist, lifting you up and over his shoulder like a sack of flour.

You hit his back with your hands. “Let me down you ruffian!”

“I’m the ruffian?”  Aemond chuckled and your attempts to get down, his hands probing mischievously against your skirts. “You’re the aspiring assassin, storming off to do gods know what with no plan or backup.  Now stay still.”

You did not obey, squirming atop Aemond’s shoulder, causing him to grunt and almost lose his footing more than once as he carried you back down the empty hallway.  He smacked your backside sharply after one particularly strong bout of flailing.

You gasped at the impact, stilling momentarily in your shock. “Did you just-?”

“Yes, and I will do it again if you don’t stop.”  

“How dare you?”

“That’s right, direct your anger towards me instead. The better to keep you safe.”

You ceased your wiggling, hanging loosely over Aemond’s shoulder, your arms dangling down his back.  With a smirk you raised a hand, bringing it down swiftly against Aemond’s backside in retribution. He started, almost dropping you. “You are a feral wildcat, Y/N!”  

“What does that make you?”

“Someone who is going to fuck you thoroughly when we get back to our chambers.”

You gripped the waist of Aemond’s tunic, his long hair tickling your nose as it swayed with his movements.  His words quite distracted you, sending a pool of molten need flooding your abdomen.

“No witty retort?”  You could hear the smirk in Aemond’s low voice as he shifted you more securely into his arms.  

“Give me a moment.”  You growled. “I’m recovering.”

He laughed, a lovely genuine sound.

The two of you had almost made it undetected to your rooms, when the door at the far end of the hallway opened.  Alicent, Cole and Otto strode through it, noticing you almost immediately.  You lowered your head, wishing to disappear as Aemond passed them.  Otto and Cole diligently strode forward, their backs to you, but Alicent turned, following her son’s progress with raised eyebrows.  She made eye contact with you briefly, the flicker of a smile passing over her lips, before looking up to the back of her son’s head. “Don’t forget the welcome dinner we have for the Redwyne’s tonight, Aemond.”

“We won’t, mother.”  

Aemond rounded the corner and into the privacy of your spacious warm chambers, tossing you onto the mattress of the large bed where you bounced several times before he crawled on top of you.  He traced the curves of your face, his fingers trailing a path down along the contours of your neck.  His expression close to reverence as he gazed down at you, a curtain of silver hair framing your face. His exploratory hand ran the length of your body, curling under your skirts and caressing your trembling thighs.  He nibbled a kiss to your parted lips. “Spread your legs for me.”

[buckgasms]

Hear me out please… Princess cooking for Daddy🥰 I feel like that would be cute and romantic🩷

Hi lovely!! Yes I like this idea a lot!!

But what would princess cook?? It has to be something perfect and all of Daddy's favourite things so it's gonna take a lot of work.

Imagine hours scouring Pinterest to find just the right recipe and then the right one appears and you get so excited, planning a secret shopping trip to get all the ingredients and picking an evening when you haven't got any other plans.

As well as the main course you decide to bake a lovely cake as well, all sweet and sugary just like you.

When he comes home the house smells amazing, and you've laid the table with candles and his plate is full of beautiful home cooked food.

You rush out of the bedroom in a pretty dress with a bit of flour still on your cheek and his heart melts and his tummy flares with desire.

Beaming with delight you rush over to him and accept his kiss on the lips, giggling as his thumb brushes away the flour on your cheek.

"You been busy Princess?" He mutters, a smile on his lips as you smile shyly.

"Uh-huh, I hope you're hungry..."

His eyes flick down at your body and he grins, "starvin' angel."

🍲

You are beaming with pride as he licks the spoon clean, another satisfied growl leaving his lips as he finishes his dessert.

"Princess... That was fantastic, thank you so much..."

You practically leap out of your seat and move to perch on his waiting lap, accepting kisses from him as his arms snake around you.

"Did you really like it?" You whisper, playing with the buttons on his shirt, eliciting a chuckle from him.

"Baby, you know what I'm like with food, I'm a fussy ass right? Plus I can't cook a damn, so this is amazing..." He pats his stomach and you giggle, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"Although, I am still a little hungry for something sweet..."

"You want more cake?" You start, making a move to get up and find him something else, but he holds you more firmly and fixes you with a lust filled stare...

"No baby, I was thinking something else... Hop up on the table for me and I'll show ya..."

[imaginariumwanderer]

So I finished the latest story...

This is pretty horrifying from a cookie's perspective. One of cookiekind's main forms of happiness is their ability to express their various colorful flavors/personality. I suppose it's the same thing as tripping a living human of their sentient and individuality. Ego death. Leaving behind hollow flesh

We be committing unspeakable crimes against nature with this one✨

We be crumbling our colleagues while slowly losing our mind with this one✨

On another note, "eyecing" make its glorious return. I have no memory of it being used before the Mystic Flour update. Can anyone point out the other times it was used, if there's any?

????!!!!! OMG HIIII

MORE CJ PAWLIKOWSKI VOICE ACTING YES YES YES

Don't do it, don't give me hope...

I know he's the last to be released u don't need to tease me like that

So the other-space here clearly refer to the Dark side of the Moon, right? Is there any other-space I don't know about? Also, I guess this confirmed Shadow Milk is the only one able to do this astral projection thing. On one hand, it increases his chance of appearing a bit more before his own update, on the other hand, we most likely won't see the other Beasts having any talking-role any time soon

The implications here...

So the Beasts may likely have their own voices of their Light just like the Ancients does. And "Soul Jam"... Without an (s), Shadow Milk is specifically referring to his Soul Jam here, I can't believe my headcanon of the Light of Deceit/Knowledge whispering things to him is becoming true

It's a thing unique to Shadow Milk and not the other Beasts too. Interesting how both the voices of the Light of Truth and Deceit operate differently from the other Lights' (referring to the theory that the Light of Truth have never make an actual appearance since all instances of it in-game were all Shadow Milk's disguise)

... Clownage. Whelp! time to integrate that into my daily vocabulary!

Alright, so we got confirmation Smilk is not only aware of Dark Enchantress' plans but he's actively helping her out. Whenever he's oblivious to her other, secret plans (stealing the Beasts' Soul Jams) or he's aware and already have a counter measures to it though, is still up in the air.

My money is on the latter. Shadow Milk have shown time and time again he's way more knowledgeable than he let on. The way Dark Enchantress was depicted in his previous "play" does show us a certain level of... Appreciation(?) but who's to say he actually trusts her? It really does feel like a "I rub your back if you rub mine and then we'll backstab each other" kind of deal. Now I'm curious about the other Beasts' opinions on Dark Enchantress as well.

Where's Dark Enchantress anyways? We haven't seen her make any on-screen appearance in a while. I, um, I missed her a lot actually. I missed the diabolical meema

Laughing at Wind Archer cookie repeatedly telling Smilk to stfu from the moment they've met. He's saying what we've all been thinking

Also laughing at Shadow Milk basically only here to make cryptic riddles and mocks our Wind Archer. He really does have nothing better to do lol

Yeah that's right, FRIENDSHIP will save the day!

For real tho, tons of intriguing implications about the Ultimate Cookie with this one. I gotta mulls over them for awhile...

GUYS NEW SMILK'S SPRITE JUST DROPPED

HE'S ROLLING HIS EYES. HE'S SO DONE I'M DEAD

"In conclusion, this changed nothing!"

Kidding, kidding! I was getting real worried for Wind Archer there despite knowing full-well it's not crk's style to let something happen to a character unless they're a minor villain or an elderly *grinding my teeth trying not to bring up Elder Faerie again oops too late-*

The unexpected yet sweet moment of empathy Wind Archer have toward the Ultimate Cookie combined with the stunning animation toward the end were definitely my favorite part of this little adventure. Although I half-expected for him to have his magical girl transformation like White Lily and Dark Cacao right then and there-

"Beast-Yeast EP 5 coming soon to theaters near you! Remember to stay tuned, mkay? Okie dokie? Pinkie promiseee?"

[carionto]

The duality of Man, or triality? quadrality?

Alien to Human about New Human: Correct me if I'm wrong, but they appear abnormally large for your species?

H: Yea, he's a biggun alright, even without the EV suit I'd say... 7'3'', 310 pounds, bet he power lifts.

A: Umm... not to be rude, but, uhh... he seems, well... how should I put this...

H: Intimidating? Terrifying? Evil? Yea, if this station didn't have high screening standards I'd be totally pissing myself if he started walking towards me. The mohawk and eye tat totally make me believe he could snap me in two with a single glare.

A: I feel ashamed that my instincts are telling me to flee. I wish nature were easier to change.

H (shouting at NH): Hey buddy! Could you come over here for a minute please? You look awesome by the way!

A (whispering nervously): what are you doing?!?

H: Gotta overcome those fears somehow, I believe the best way is a direct confrontation.

NH approaches, somewhat slowly, looking around at all the other aliens in the station that are chatting, waiting around, or doing some work. He finally approaches A and H, and in a very deep and husky voice says: Um, hi, hello. T-thanks for the compliment, I, uh, was a little worried I would stand out too much here.

H: Oh you totally do, my friend over here is practically about to pass out from how much like a gothic viking of death metal you look.

NH: Oh no, I'm so sorry, I-I just grew up in Sweden-Delta and both my parents were huge into classic local music, so I just, uh... it's complicated. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare anyone.

H: Hey, relax pal, we're all good people here. Anyway, what you here to do? I'm planning on starting a bakery, still testing out what kind of flour most species here can actually stomach. My friend here is on the team working on Moon theft preventative measures.

NH: Oh, that's cool. I'm here as an exchange student with the department of applied astrophysics. If all goes well, I can finish my Bachelors degree remotely and stay here as an intern with the head researcher.

H: Oooh, that's cool. (so cool yea that you're apparently half my age but oh well guess I'm a big fat time waster like my father before me and oh god change the subject before I get depressed in front of strangers) That's a real big bag you got there, carrying some super secret science things, eh?

NH: Oh, that... uhh... guess it can't hurt to tell, security vetted it already anyway.

NH proceeds to unzip the bag and hold up a large white piece of clothing with light blue rings and accents, alongside a strange white cap with what looked like small fins, and a curious little backpack.

NH: It's uhh... um... my... Ika... musume... cosplay.... (oh gods I can't believe I said it out loud again)

After a moment of awkward silence, NH slowly puts on the backpack and presses a button on it's strap, and suddenly numerous light blue colored tentacle-like appendages sprout out from the backpack and move in line with NH's movements.

NH: I, uh..., got my engineering friend to make them articulate and interface with my contacts. I can make them do all sorts of things, like make various shapes and animals with them, though works best as a shadow theater.

H:...

NH:...

A now frozen out of confusion than fear:...

H: That's so

NH: (oh I know it's so lame, but I love that show)-

H: COOL! I don't know what a ika musume is, but those things look amazing. You said articulate? How precise can they be? I'd love to have something like that instead of my useless assistant. Poor lad can't make a piece of toast if his life depended on it...

NH: Y-you like it?

H: I LOVE those things. My daughter does cosplay too sometimes, but she makes her Dreadnought suits herself from scraps. One time the military came to our house and installed a limiter on the gauss cannon she found in a crash site, said it would otherwise start to generate small doses of radiation if used too frequently. But she replaced it with a handmade rail gun before the next convention. Do you go to those? Did you see a 7 meter tall hulking metal monstrosity with a bunch of candles all over? That was her.

NH: Oh, I think I've seen video of that, but no, not in person, I go to smaller events. I don't really like big crowds.

H: Oh yea, I get ya, you do seem a bit on the shy side now that we've been talking for a bit. Hey, no worries, like I said, we're all good people here.

NH: T-thanks, but I think I should be going now, the teacher is calling me over.

H: Oh yea, go ahead, didn't mean to take up so much of your time. Have a fun stay and I'm sure you'll ace that paper or theory? Or whatever astrophysicists do, you seem like a solid kid.

NH: Oh, uh, thanks. Good luck with your bakery. And you with stopping those weird people from stealing more moons. Bye.

H: Bye bye, come visit, don't be a stranger now, I'm set up just a short bit from the main lift on floor 14.

NH: R-right, I'll, uh, be sure to stop by soon.

A is finally able to process what they just heard and says: What was all that just now?

H: What? Just a friendly chat with what is apparently basically a kid. Man, this kid's got so much going on, while I'm almost 50 and I have an oven. Life, man, it can go in so many ways. Anyway, let's go grab a drink, I'm parched.

[brittle-doughie]

Hello again! I'm the same anon from this post https://www.tumblr.com/brittle-doughie/765104539928051712/remembered-a-few-posts-about-the-beasts-leaving. I felt like continuing Y/n's journey by going over the rest of the integrity gods, so here's the next Integrity, Autonomy.

Y/n Journey's through earthbread with the guidance of the Truth god, They traverse the lands with a compass that was shortly given to Y/n by the Truth god before they left to help in their search. It points to the location of the integrity god that Y/n chooses to seek for; When actively searched by cookies sent by a fellow god, the statues representing them will emit whispers correlating to the god's integrity, the closer they are, the louder the whispers are.

Y/n follows the compass whilst occasionally stopping to rest. On their journey they start to hear whispers, they're getting closer to their destination, so Y/n presses on. The forest slowly starts to give way to an open field, further down a path is seen, the whispers grow louder and the compass points to the direction of the path, so Y/n continues to traverse the land.

At the end of the path Y/n finds an independant village, they are very kind and greets Y/n cookie to their village. Y/n is given a tour while they intently listen for the loud whispers to know how close they are to the statue. Y/n is welcomed to stay in the village for a while to rest which Y/n does. As night falls and every cookie is asleep Y/n goes out to listen for the whispers, Y/n follows both the compass and the whispers to the center of the village. There lies the statue of the Autonomy god. Y/n touches the statue and falls asleep.

Y/n opens their eyes and looks up to the Autonomy god. It took a few seconds for the god to notice their presence.

"Oh? A visitor? It's been a while, and by a while I mean years."

As Y/n stares on the god recognises the power in the mirror, the emblem symbol and the compass.

"You were sent by the Truth to seek me and the others. Tell me what you are here for mortal cookie."

Y/n explains their situation and shows the beast marks on their body. the Autonomy god recognises the powers in the marks and places their own emblem symbol over mystic flours mark leading to it being removed. The emblem symbol appears as a broken chain that wraps around the wrist, with the broken off sides fading from grey to green, a way to simbolize freedom and independance. As Y/n looks over the emblem symbol the Autonomy god starts to speak.

"The corruption within you is weakened; it is slowly fading, and so is the connection towards these... "Beast" cookies. Seek for the others, they shall assist you with your predicament. Perhaps I'm finally now able to interact with Truth again."

Y/n thanks the Autonomy god and bids them farewell. As Y/n wakes up it's still night, Y/n finds a green and grey colored flag right next to them.

On the green flag a grey upward facing fist with a broken chain is shown. The flag replenishes mental, emotional and physical strength of Y/n if any of it were lost. The flag and its pole can be transformed into any weapon Y/n desires, with a green fading to grey colored light trail following wherever the weapon moves. In the morning Y/n departs and bids the village farewell as they set off to find another integrity god.

Fun fact 1: How Y/n first found the Truth god is when they were traveling and decided to rest near a statue and they fell asleep.

Fun fact 2: After interacting with an integrity god their statues appear near your residence, for Y/n's case the Truth god and just recently the Autonomy god statues appear in the backyard of Y/n's house; the rest of the integrity god statues will follow.

Sorry for the lengthy ask again brittle its difficult to shorten them. Btw for the sake of having a sense of identity I'll be called Integrity anon.

-Integrity anon

Quite the lengthy read, but intriguing

[earthtooz]

hello!! still new to tumblr so I have to idea how long ago that post was but I saw your requests were open!! can you please please please please pretty please do something do something fluffy with rin from blue lock??? i need to cure my craving for this man and your fics are like a pond of water in the middle of the desert 🙏

say no more fam, i gotchu. and thank you anon 😫😫 you are so kind to me for praise i do not deserve, but ask and i shall deliver!

cw: fluff! food, swearing, bad writing, unrealistic scenario but like fuck that give me the fluff.

"the hell are you doing in my kitchen?"

itoshi rin turns around rather nonchalantly, seemingly unalarmed by the fact that you caught him in your kitchen, in your apartment, a place he wasn't supposed to be.

"i'm baking something," he replies simply, not even blinking once at your dumbfounded expression.

upon entering your house, you were ready for a relaxing thursday night so you could prepare to repeat the same day again. what you weren't ready for was the sight of foreign slacks- that clearly weren't yours, at the getabako by the genkan, and you see that your household slippers had also disappeared from their usual spot.

then you hear noises from the kitchen.

a little alarmed, you don't know whether to call the police or not, then, before your concerns could be answered, you see itoshi rin's familiar face peak out from the kitchen.

what the fuck. why was he wearing your slippers?

"oh, welcome home y/n," he says very casually before disappearing again.

what the fuck?

now that you've returned to your senses just a little and finally registered the intruder-slash-athlete in your kitchen, you walk up to stand beside him, peering down at his work.

"what are you making?" you ask.

"jam sugar cookies."

"that sounds good."

he's already formed a dough at this point, kneading it on a floured surface with quite a bit of skill.

noting his talent in the craft of baking, you can't help but wonder why he decided to do it in your kitchen.

"y'know when i gave you my spare key, it was for emergency purposes and because i trust you not to do dumb shit, unlike everyone else on the team," you point out with a sigh.

the dark-haired only shrugs, now breaking the dough into smaller balls.

"why my kitchen?"

"i don't know, i wanted to spend time with you. i thought you would be back from work since practice ended ages ago."

you ignore the butterflies in your stomach. "couldn't have done that over coffee? and i was working overtime today."

once again, he doesn't answer. itoshi rin is a great conversationalist, what a riveting exchange you're having right now.

you don't see the way his face flushes from his shyness, embarrassed to be caught in this situation.

"can i at least help?"

"sure," agrees rin, moving away. "break the dough into 12 even sized pieces."

you oblige as he goes over to wash his hands, swiftly cleaning up the mess around you whilst you work in silence, pretending like your heart wasn't racing because the itoshi rin was in your apartment with you, alone. the effect a man could have on you was unnerving.

"i think i'm done," you finally announce and the soccer player looks over your shoulder with a satisfied hum, a noise that you can feel in your upper spine. why was he standing so close? you can practically feel him hovering behind you.

"i can take over from here," he says.

"you sure?"

"yeah- actually, i made a pot of fresh strawberry jam on the stove, can you bring it here?"

he made jam? is there another man more perfect than him?

listening to his instructions, you carefully set the now-cooled pot on the marble counter. "i didn't strike you as a baker," you mutter, going over to the sink to wash your hands.

"it's fun. i like it."

"you like sweets?"

"i don't mind them. my favourite are ones that aren't too sweet, but i indulge in sugary ones too."

you hum in acknowledgement, watching him for a few moments longer before the urge to change into more comfortable clothes appears again like an itch you can't scratch. "you sure you don't need my help? i need to go take a shower."

"go."

"wow, okay. i know where i'm not needed."

he doesn't say anything in response, not that you were expecting him to when you made your way out of the kitchen.

twenty minutes and a refreshing shower later, you emerge feeling a lot cleaner and rejuvenated. rin was still in the kitchen, now on his phone as he leans against the counter, waiting for the cookies to bake. when he notices you, he puts his device away and greets you properly.

"would you like to stay for dinner?" you ask, ignoring the way his eyes dip to your exposed collarbones and how the water from your shower drips down them.

if you paid too much attention to it you might explode.

"it won't be a bother right?" he asks, meeting your gaze once more. when you shake your head, he agrees. "then what's for dinner?"

"i was planning on katsu curry, that okay?"

"more than."

thank goodness you bought fresh vegetables yesterday. "how are the cookies?"

"good. they're almost done."

"can i try some after?"

"no."

the audacity. he uses your kitchen and won't spare you any? what ever happened to taxes?

whilst you're cutting the potatoes and carrots, the oven timer calls out to let you know that the cookies are finished. rin swiftly takes them out, hums in approval and lets the batch chill.

you ask him if he can prepare the rice and other ingredients whilst you prepare the pot and the sauce. it's a perfect dance of teamwork, and despite your kitchen being not the biggest, you and rin work perfectly together. sometimes in silence, sometimes speaking about mundane things that don't truly matter.

the domesticity of it all makes you sick, and of course, increases your unescapable yearning for rin. you're so infatuated with him it's annoying.

once dinner is plated, you both eat in the comfort of your kitchen bench, under the warm lighting of your home.

you didn't think you'd be ending your day like this but the complaints die in your mind before they can even be manifested. chatter is exchanged as if you don't see each other during the day, and even when both your bowls are scraped empty, neither make the move to clean up and break out of this little, precious bubble you've created.

the sun has fully set now. rin should be going back home instead of answering some 'would you rather' question you suddenly created, and although you ridicule him for his choice, the best he cracks is a small smile in amusement.

when you first met itoshi rin on your first day on the job, you didn't think you'd get along with him as well as the rest of the team but, you were proven wrong very quickly. on team dinners, nights out, coffee runs, rin always joined them despite having seeming like the most antisocial man ever, and it just became easy to spend time with him.

from then on marked your downfall.

chats in your office became a regularity, his tendency to stay late for extra practice and your tendency to stay late to finish outstanding work made you both excellent commute partners, and his punctuality and assertiveness made him an excellent team captain to rely on.

somewhere between the carpools, mundane conversations on green fields, and water filler station visits, you fell for him.

you just hope rin will let you down easily.

when the clock strikes 10:30 and you let out your first yawn, rin takes it as his sign to leave. productive in cleaning up and wishing you a goodnights rest, he's gone with a soft smile and an even softer gaze.

as your front door shuts, you feel a little empty at the silence that follows his absence.

the next morning when you arrive at work, there's a little more pep in your step due to the delightful night before. when you walk into your office after greeting the members of the team who were already there, you stop short at the sight of something unfamiliar on top of your desk.

rounding the table, your heart skips a beat in a nauseating combination of nervousness, yearning, and flattery.

a box of sugar cookies with jam pressed in the shape of a heart, sit pretty on your desk; next to a note.

go on a date with me? ─ itoshi rin

[neo-techculture]

Hi love! Can you do colby brock x fourteen y/o reader (platonic) where shes been here since traphouse cuz she and her parents are a family friend to him and his family and she has collabed with all (like she's stuck in a car with tarayummy for 24 hours) and has been in ghost hunts with sam,colby,Corey and Jake and she also joined mukbangs with johnnie and jake and in the past everyone in trap house has adored her and she was the funniest person and humble and you can make your own ideas and like colby,Sam and reader in ghost hunt or like she appeared in their reacting channel or like she went to restaurants with brennen taylor and colby you can do where Sam and Colby become parents for day 1 (when she was 9 or fourteen you can choose) (and you can choose any of these ideas :) ) and it’s okay to not do these if your uncomfortable :)

Sure pooks! I can do that! :) So I chose the one where Sam and Colby takes care of the reader when she was 9; if that's ok :)

Have a nice day!

Trouble Times Three

Summary:- Wherein, Sam and Colby are tasked with looking after their favourite princess for the day. What do you get when you add two goofy guys and a 9 year old? 'Trouble times three.'

Warnings: Sibling!Sam and Colby x Sibling!Reader, PLATONIC.

"So it won't be a problem for you both?" Your mom asks.

"Of course not", Sam replies with a smile while Colby nods his head in agreement.

Your mom turns to look at you. "Be good okay?"

You nod, a smile on your face. With a pat on your head, she leaves you with Sam and Colby. The boys watch as the 9 year old turns to them.

"Let's play!!" You exclaimed, bouncing up and down. You were a frequent member of the Sam and Colby household, despite your young age. The boys looked after you like a sibling, often taking part in your shenanigans. They also brought you along with them for some of their videos. The most famous being a mukbang show with Johnnie and Jake where your face was a mess by the time the show was done.

"Okay, okay," Sam laughed, nudging you inside as Colby closes the door.

"Do you want to see a surprise, princess?" Colby crouches down in front of you. You nod eagerly, bouncing on your toes.

"Yes, please!!" Colby and Sam leads you into their living room. The first thing you notice are the two giant teddy bears. With a squeal of excitement, you run towards it. The boys couldn't help but laugh at your attempt to pick one up.

You loved to play with Sam and Colby since they often took part in your little games. You head over to the couch, pick up your teddy bear shaped bag and pulls out your colouring book. You were absorbed in coloring the pictures for a while, but the boys knew you would eventually grow bored. Just like they predicted, you push your colouring book away after a few minutes.

"Can I play with your hair?" You ask Sam, doe eyes wide.

"Sure," he replied. Within minutes, you've got your hands on his soft strands. Sam sits still as you brush his hair. Then, you place small ribbon clips on to them. Colby, whose watching this with amusement, picks up his camera.

"Colby, I swear to God, don't." Sam glares from his side of the couch.

Colby being Colby, grins. "What? You look good. I'm sure our fans would love to see this."

Later, Sam suggested that they bake cookies. After lining up the ingredients, Colby searched for a good recipie on the internet.

"Okay, so pour the flour into a bowl first," Colby spoke as he placed a bowl in front of Sam. The latter took the bag of flour, tilting it into the bowl, accidently spilling it everywhere. The three of you had flour stuck on your face and hair. You giggle.

"Glad you find it amusing," Sam chuckles.

Finally, the three of you somehow bake the cookies without burning down the kitchen. Sam quickly cleaned the flour out of your hair and face before letting you out to play in the backyard while he and Colby cleans up the kitchen.

A little while later, much to their surprise and horror, you came back inside with a cat in your arms.

"Where did you get that?" Sam gasped. You look down at the animal then back up at them.

"She wanted to come inside with me," You answer. Colby and Sam exchanged a glance. You looked the picture perfect of innocence, with your big doe eyes and lips formed in a small pout.

"Uh princess, you cannot just bring a random cat off the street," Colby explains.

"But..," You trail off, the pout on your lips getting bigger. Nevertheless, you let the cat out in the backyard.

Sam picks you up, bringing you inside. "Don't sulk, princess. We'll get you another one."

You nod, still pouting. Seeing your sulking face, Colby speaks up. "Who want's to play hide and seek?"

Instantly, you perk up. "Me, me!!"

Later that evening, the door bell rings. Colby opens the door to see your mom. "Mommy!!" You squeal, squirming in Sam's arms to put you down.

"Thank you for looking after her," your mom smiles. "Did she give you both any trouble?"

"Definitely not," Sam assured.

"Bye, princess." Colby waves down at you.