#like. I know it takes a while for my paycheck to actually come in. but I really want my money please 🥺

[def-ace-ing-it]

Should I wait for my paycheck to come in? Or should I just spend all my money on the next set of Percy Jackson books so I can consume them in a week?

The answer is yes.

[p3terparker]

𝗽𝘂𝘁 𝗶𝘁 𝗼𝗻 𝗺𝘆 𝗰𝗮𝗿𝗱 - 𝗽𝗲𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗽𝗮𝗿𝗸𝗲𝗿

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: peter and you argue because he loves to spend all of his money on you.

𝘄/𝗰: 0.5k

𝗮/𝗻: sorry for disappearing for a few months… again 😭 i am slowly getting back into writing so please bear with me! i saw my last fic reached over 9000 notes so that really motivated me to write something else for you guys ♡ i’m not so sure how i feel about this but i really do see peter as the type of boyfriend to blow all of his paycheck on you so i just had to write this LOL anyways i hope you all enjoy this!!

“put it on my card” you suddenly hear peter say as he pulled your earphones out, causing you to jump.

you were trying to keep yourself awake while waiting for peter to come through your window after patrolling for the night. to keep yourself occupied, you decided to listen to music and do some online shopping (which consisted of you just putting things in your cart but never actually buying anything). with your back facing your window and your earphones in, you didn’t see or hear peter come inside.

“jesus christ peter, don’t sneak up on me like that!”

“yeah yeah whatever” he says not really caring that he nearly scared the life out of you. “as i was saying before you rudely snapped at me, put your order on my card”

“i literally have over $400 worth of clothes in my cart”

“and?”

“what do you mean and? that’s expensive”

“your point?”

“that’s more than half of your paycheck”

“doesn’t matter. the whole reason why i have a job is to spoil you” he says while taking off his suit and getting comfortable in your bed.

“aww pete, you’re too sweet. but still, no. i don’t want you spending that much money on me”

he hummed an okay which led you to believe he was gonna just drop the conversation.

you were so wrong.

before you know it, he’s shooting a web at your laptop and dragging it over to him.

“NOOOO!” you scream dramatically and tackle him on your bed before he can type in his card information.

“LET ME BUY YOU CLOTHES!” he screams back while trying to push you off of him so he can grab your laptop again.

you quickly snatched your laptop from the bed and ran out of your room as fast as you could.

“GET BACK HERE!” peter shouted while chasing after you to which you just ignored and kept running away.

“you know what, you leave me no choice” he abruptly stops chasing you which causes you to stop in confusion.

suddenly, he jumped and stuck to your roof with his webs, and webbed your laptop over to him. you literally had no way of getting to him now.

“that’s no fair, you’re cheating!” you whined.

he laughed at you standing helplessly below him and finally placed your $450 order on his card.

“here you go” he smiled and jumped down from the roof, handing your laptop back over to you.

before you were about to scold him for spending so much money on you, you heard a knock at your door.

you and peter both looked at each other confused because you weren’t expecting anybody for the night. he walked to the door and opened, revealing the people you were least expecting.

the police.

“hello, we were called over here for a noise complaint. your neighbors reported screaming being heard from your apartment room and they were concerned. is everything alright?”

you did not expect to end your night by explaining to the police that you and your boyfriend were screaming over buying clothes.

[judasofsuburbia]

something something caretaker! steve gets hired by rockstar! eddie to look after and live with wayne. everything is set up over the phone after eddie was given his resume so eddie's never physically seen the guy but he has enough positive reviews and references that it seems like there is anybody in this world that doesn't like this steve harrington fellow.

wayne munson soon becomes his #1 fan.

wayne keeps telling eddie all about steve in their weekly phone calls. anytime eddie tries to steer the conversation into something actually about wayne's health and wellbeing, wayne manages to involve steve. says that steve's blushing face is real handsome while steve rolls his eyes and laughs to himself across the room.

"you should come home on your next break," wayne says.

"i'm planning to."

"steve really wants to meet you," wayne says with an infliction.

"well, shit, wayne. from how much you gush about him, i'm excited to meet your new boyfriend too," eddie teases.

"oh hush, you. my casanova days are over. you, however, could use someone good."

the next break eddie has, nearly six months after steve starts working for the munsons, he arrives at nearly 11pm. he's quiet as he sneaks into the house he bought wayne years ago and nearly shits himself when he sees steve hanging out on the couch watching TV. he drops his suitcase to the floor, jolting steve out of his trance.

"oh god, i'm so sorry!" steve rushes to say as eddie clutches his chest and tries to steady his breathing.

"steve, i take it?" eddie laughs breathlessly.

"yeah, hi," steve stands from the couch and holds his hand out. "nice to finally meet you."

steve steps into the light as he does this and eddie's taken aback by just how handsome he is. oh fuck, wayne wasn't just messing around. eddie takes his hand, firm and strong, and shakes it.

"sorry to jumpscare you like that," steve smiles and his eyes twinkle in the low hallway light.

"no, i should've prepared myself," eddie says. "someone hasn't been in the house either than wayne or i in....well, ever."

"don't worry, i'll try to keep mostly to myself as you two have quality bonding time," steve replies sheepishly.

eddie shakes his head. "you don't gotta do that. you're more welcome around us than anyone. i owe you so much for looking after him."

steve smiles. "you already sign all my paychecks."

right, yeah. eddie's technically this guy's boss. eddie's never really thought of it that way before. that means any plans eddie's monkey brain had in the last thirty seconds about flirting with the handsome caretaker is out the window. it wouldn't be appropriate. eddie slouches and gives steve a tired smile.

"i'm gonna turn in. see you at breakfast?" eddie asks, hopeful despite his conflicting internal monologue.

"be prepared for oatmeal," steve jokes. "it's the only thing he wants for breakfast nowadays."

eddie scrunches up his face. "you don't have any poptarts or anything fun stashed away somewhere?"

"depends. do you like brown sugar cinnamon?" steve asks.

"love it," eddie whispers.

"then yeah, your breakfast fate can be a little better," steve nudges his elbow and it lights up eddie's skin.

"thank you caretaker steve," eddie salutes and turns heel to his teenage bedroom.

over the next few days, eddie goes out of his mind. he watches steve just do his job, the job he hired him to do, and he's still going crazy over it. how steve prepares for everything, accidents and things eddie couldn't even predict. spoon feeds wayne if his hands are too shaky. jokes and messes around with him like he's family. wayne's eyes keep drifting over to eddie's when steve isn't looking, a smug little smirk on his face.

"it can't happen," eddie seethes when steve leaves the room. "you're what's important here and i need him to stick around."

"and i need you to stop moping about the country, getting your heart broken every other week," wayne retorts. "steve's a good boy. he would treat you right."

"we don't even know if he's gay," eddie grumbles.

wayne gives him an unimpressed look that makes eddie bark out a frustrated laugh. "take a look at his bedroom, kid. you'll have all your questions answered," wayne advises right before steve returns.

"jeopardy time?" steve asks, hands already on wayne's wheelchair handles.

"eddie is gonna beat us both," wayne claims.

"that so?" steve beams. eddie is glaring daggers at wayne.

"he's full of useless facts," wayne jokes while eddie throws up his hands and steve laughs joyfully.

eddie falls for steve more and more as the week goes on. he tries his best to restrain it, tries his best to never be alone with steve. catches himself from checking steve out (especially in his daily running outfit, god) and swallows flirtatious lines that nearly escape his mouth. it's hard to say no when steve invites him to watch a movie or hang out with him while he cooks dinner but he does. eddie has to be coming off like a total dick at this point but it's for the best.

steve is out running an errand so eddie finally decides to snoop only a little bit. opens steve's bedroom door and smiles at all the decorations. sure enough, there is a little bisexual pride flag sticking out of the pen cup on his desk. eddie is admiring framed photos of steve and some kids along with little handwritten camp postcards on his corkboard when steve enters the room.

"anything interesting?" steve jokes from the doorway.

"shit!" eddie yells, clutching his chest again like he did the first night. "fuck, i'm so sorry."

"don't be," steve shrugs easily. "it is your house after all. i snoop your teenage bedroom all the time when wayne asks me to change the sheets."

"still, i shouldn't be invading your privacy," eddie says with an apologetic face.

steve walks carefully over to where eddie is standing. "i don't think there is much privacy between us where wayne is concerned," steve says quietly with a kind smile, leaning up against the desk.

"i'm sorry about him," eddie groans, rubbing his hand over his chin. "he is a little pushy about my love life."

"no, i'm sorry that he's weird about us. i swear i called you handsome once and he has never left it alone since," steve admits with a small blush.

eddie's eyebrows raise. "you think i'm handsome?"

"are you kidding me? you got this whole," steve gestures in a circle, "rockstar bravado going on. hard not to admire the show."

"well, you've got a show i admire too," eddie admits, inching closer.

steve huffs, looking down bashfully. "do i?"

"mhm. smart, genuine guy with a heart of gold. makes wayne's days better. lights up a room. probably rescues cats from trees and saves drowning puppies," eddie smiles.

steve tilts his head from side to side. "i may have rescued a cat before but it was stuck under my little brother Dustin's porch."

"see? heart of gold," eddie repeats.

steve exhales deeply, twisting his mouth. "i wasn't sure if you liked me."

eddie reaches his hand over and touches steve's hand on top of the desk. steve looks up shyly to eddie's sympathetic face. "i didn't want to-- there's a power trip here, you know? like you said, i sign your paychecks. i'm not about to pull out the moves and make you feel like your job is at risk if you aren't into it."

steve nods before slowly rubbing his thumb over eddie's.

"and if i am into it?" steve whispers.

"well i--" eddie stutters.

"can i kiss you?" steve asks quietly. eddie's not sure he's ever been asked in his entire life.

eddie nods. when steve's lips touch his, it's all over. any pretense of keeping his feelings undercover blows up like fireworks underneath his skin. eddie feels as his resolve sparkles and cracks away into the air. he encourages steve to keep kissing him by pulling in his face closer. steve sucks his bottom lip in between his own when his watch beeps.

"wayne's meds," steve whispers.

"old bastard," eddie jokes. "watch a movie with me later?"

steve bites his lip and nods. "i know just the couch."

[elegantgardenrunaway]

Today, we dance

PreCrash! Captain Curly x reader

A/N: Sorry, I couldn't resist. Haha. Anyways, this is not proofread and English is not my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes.

(Image found in Pinterest)

Just think about finding captain Curly after the whole birthday ordeal. The room is still decorated while he's just sitting there, with his head down with an unreadable expression on his face.

You don't say anything as you sit next to him, not really knowing what to do, this was beyond your paycheck. Well, your last paycheck, the idea is still making you nauseous. You don't know what you are going to do after this, if you are going to be able to get another job or if this will be it for you. The weight of the news is crushing both of you, suffocating you in its silence.

You glance at him, then look around the room, the room which you hoped to celebrate your captain and decide here and there that this was too somber. This was supposed to be his celebration, his day and you'll be damned if you let it end like this.

Besides, you needed some distraction, maybe he did too.

You are a little ashamed to admit that it took you some time to get the courage to put your idea into motion, worried you may be stepping a boundary or just doing something in a time that wasn't right. Sure, the captain and you were getting close as of late, but you wouldn't say you have that kind of trust, not to mention it wasn't really professional.

But it's not like you have anything to lose now, right?

You turn on the radio, put some music, take his hands, invite him to dance "just one piece", you say, anything to lift his mood. It takes some convincing, a lot of convincing.

"We still have work to do" he says.

"To hell with work" you respond, taking his hands to guide him "Forget the work, the company, everything. Tomorrow we'll drown, today? Today, we dance. If you want to, of course."

He observed you, with those blue eyes with something you had never seen before, something you can't describe.

To be completely honest, you were expecting a refusal.

You were pleasantly surprised when he didn't.

His callused, warm hands awkwardly held you, not exactly knowing what to do.

"... I have to tell you..." He whispered slowly, sounding as if he was confessing a crime "... I'm not a good dancer..."

You blinked. You didn't expect him to say that. Captain Curly? A bad dancer? The idea made you snort.

"What?"

"Nothing, nothing, sorry... " you shook your head, giving him an apologetic smile, hoping that you were not being rude. That's the last thing you want to do to him. You guided one of his hands to your waist, the other holding yours "... It's just that... That's very hard to believe coming from you, captain."

He just shrugged. For some reason, the easy smile he usually gives seemed different. You can't help but wish you could see it more often.

"What can I say? Being a captain is not exactly a job where I can really do these kinds of things..."

You chuckled "Don't worry, we are not doing anything complicated of sorts" you reassured "Just follow my lead..."

You started to guide the captain through the music. Nothing difficult, just simple, easy to remember movements. As you progressed with your impromptu dancing clases, you didn't notice when your bodies got so close to each other, to the point he had his chin resting on your head while you were resting on his chest.

The mellow melody taking you to another world, another earth. There were no screens, no pixels, no pony express, no worries about the future. Just the two of you, swaying with the music. This was all you could offer to him.

And you hoped that was a good enough birthday gift.

"You know, you are not as bad a dancer as you said you were"

"Hmm? You think so?"

"Mhm, but if you really feel like it... I can give you some classes..."

"... That..."

"Ah...Sorry-"

"No! Don't be!"

"..."

"... It actually sounds wonderful"

"Really?"

"...Really"

"... Well, we have some time before we arrive at the destination... We can see each other during our breaks..."

"I'm looking forward to it then"

[agi-ppangx]

💭roommates to lovers (100 followers special)

chan | minho | changbin | hyunjin | jisung | felix | seungmin | jeongin

“oh my god, are you okay?” you heard jisung exclaim as soon as he saw you in the kitchen. you were trying to make yourself some tea but your hands were shaking and you felt like you were going to faint. 

you woke up with the worst headache you’d had in your entire life. the night before you decided to come back from work by foot, since you were waiting to get your paycheck and didn’t want to waste your last money on a taxi. since the evenings were getting colder now and you didn’t wear a coat or anything that would keep you warm, you were now suffering the aftermath of the walk. 

“yeah, i’m just kind of tired,” you tried to sound convincing but your voice was so hoarse it startled both jisung and you. he obviously didn’t believe you, so he came closer to you and gently placed his hand on your forehead. “damn, you’re burning up,” he simply acknowledged and you looked at him. he was really close to you and for a split moment you wanted to just fall into his arms. 

some may think that it’s so cliche to fall for your roommate, but how could you not? jisung was always kind to you, he always knew how to make you feel better after a long day and knew when to leave you alone because you were too stressed and worn out. he was just so thoughtful and caring that you wondered if he would be the same as a partner. not that you planned to confess anyway.

“go to your room,” he ordered suddenly and you breathed a faint “what?”. “you heard me yn, you look like a ghost. go to your room and lay down, i’ll go to the pharmacy for some medicine.” you were caught off guard by his firm tone, but since you really didn’t feel good and you weren’t in a mood to argue you just nodded and did as he said. you covered yourself with a ton of blankets and quickly fell asleep. 

the noises outside your room woke you up. you heard some rustling from the kitchen as well as jisung talking to someone on the phone. after a while you heard a knock on your door and jisung entered the room with a tray in his hands. “how are you feeling? i made you some chicken noodle soup. i’m not sure if it’s good but i called my mom and she helped me cook it. she said it works wonders for the flu,” he said quietly and placed the tray on your bedside table. then he helped you to sit up and took the bowl with soup in his hands. you reached out to take it from him but he moved away a bit. you looked at him, confused and he just shook his head. “i’ll feed you,” he then stated and it left you dumbfounded. “ji, i may be weak but i think i’ll be able to hold a spoon,” you chuckled. “i know, i just… i mean, if you don’t want me to, it’s fine, here,” he responded nervously, his cheeks becoming pink, and he handed you the spoon. you took a glance at it and then it was your turn to shake your head. “it’s okay. go ahead,” you gave him a green light and after a while he started to feed you the soup. he was cautious, trying his best not to douse you with the soup. “okay, that’s enough, i can’t eat more,” you sighed after half of the bowl was empty. jisung raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. you saw his gaze and added “my throat feels like sandpaper, i physically can’t eat more”. he giggled at that and placed the bowl down. he then took some pills and a glass of water from the tray and handed them to you. “take this. according to the pharmacist, it also works wonders for the flu.” you laughed softly at his words. he was so caring towards you it made you delusional, you really wanted someone like him as your partner. you wanted him as your partner. 

you obediently swallowed the medication and you grimaced when you accidentally tasted one. “oh god, that’s awful,” you coughed and gave jisung the now empty glass. you laid down and it seemed as if you were drowning in the amount of blankets you were under. “you know it’s actually bad for you to cover yourself that much when you’re sick?” “but i’m cold…” you whispered. jisung gave you a soft look, seeing you all weak and vulnerable made his heart melt. he didn’t vocalise his feelings towards you, too scared to ruin your little friendship that developed throughout the past year of living together. 

“i know but it’s really not good for you,” he tried to convince you and you thought about it for a while. “fine, but maybe you could… um…” you started, but then shook your head and whispered a faint “nevermind” and simply took some of the blanket off of yourself. “hmm, what did you say?” jisung asked, too curious to let it slide. you thought for a moment and decided to ask him - the worst that could happen is him saying no. “could you, um, cuddle me? that way i won’t need all these blankets.” jisung stared at you, speechless. you started fidgeting with the hem of your hoodie, thinking it was a bad decision, but then he mumbled a simple “yeah, of course” and you felt as if a weight was taken from your chest. he soon laid by your side and took you into his arms. if your nose wasn’t so stuffed you would for sure inhale his cologne. he felt so soft and safe and it made you actually sob a little bit. jisung stroked your head, detangling some messy hair strands from time to time. it helped you relax and you closed your eyes, wishing you could stay like this forever.

after a while you suddenly heard jisung speak. “you know, sometimes i dream about holding you like this.” at first, you supposed he was talking to someone over the phone and you pretended to still be asleep, not wanting to interrupt, but then the meaning of his words hit you. was he speaking to you? “i’m glad i’m the one who’s taking care of you. i wish i could be with you and take care of you more and hold you in my arms more and just… i don’t know, just be with you yn,” he whispered and it made your heart ache. oh my god, did jisung also have a crush on you? “then be with me,” you simply said. it caught jisung off guard, when you opened your puffy eyes you noticed his frightened gaze and quivering lips. “are you serious?” he said, his words barely above the whisper. “i am.” “i’m gonna kiss you, okay?” “don’t, you’ll get sick” “i don’t care.” with that jisung captured your lips in a soft kiss, letting you set the pace. “i think i’m not cold anymore,” you giggled when you broke the kiss to catch a breath. and jisung laughed as well, caressing your now rosy cheeks.

feedback and reblogs highly appreciated🫶🏽

[jjunieworld]

the great bake off! ༘ ˚· 🍞 𓂅

read part two here ⇢ spilt milk ⋆｡˚

pairing: choi soobin x gn!reader

genre: fluff, strangers to lovers, bakery au, baker!soobin and non-baker!reader, “competing”, slight banter, brief mention of blood, some sexual innuendos, soobin is super shy

synopsis: after getting fired from your job as a pizza delivery driver, you’re in desperate need to find a new job before you get kicked out of your apartment. that’s when you hear about the local bakery looking for employees. thinking, “why not? i’ve worked with dough before!”, you apply and actually get the job. that’s when you and the son of the bakery’s owner decide that it would be fun to compete to see who can make the most baked goods for a prize.

word count: 8.6k┊part two┊masterlist

a/n: i’m a little late, but thank you all so much for 100 followers! here’s a little treat (lmao) expressing my gratitude! finally joining everyone in making a baker!soobin fic lmao… i got carried away so this is pretty long. i don’t even think it counts as a oneshot anymore but i hope you enjoy :) shoutout to the lovely @jjunberry for the florist!sunoo agenda ❀

“and don’t come back!” yelled the manager of the job you just got fired from. you took your apron and hat off and threw them on the ground in front of the establishment. you scoffed loudly, noticing the passing stares of the people walking outside and the judging ones of the customers inside.

“wouldn’t fucking dream of it!” you yelled back. the manager stepped back out of the doorframe, eyes wide, lip curled, and brows scrunched ready to retort. you cut him off with a middle finger and turned, angrily walking away to where your car was.

you didn’t need that stupid pizza delivery job anyways. half the time you weren’t even delivering pizzas because of how shitty they tasted. which wasn’t a fault of you, but a fault of your manager, who was also the owner.

majority of the time he had you in the back doing his job, making the pizzas, while he sat in the break room watching alpha male videos on his phone.

you slammed your door shut and rubbed at your temples. you had a tension headache and you couldn’t think.

“fuck!” you yelled loudly. what are you going to do now? you need a job so you can pay the rent of your shitty overpriced apartment. and you just knew you weren’t getting your last paycheck from your ex-manager.

sighing, you pull out of the parking lot next to the pizza place and head back to your apartment. you desperately needed a shower and to start job hunting as soon as possible.

you push open the door of your apartment and take a look around, thankful that you cleaned before you left. it was small, but it was home.

after your shower, you got a call from your best friend.

“what a fucking asshole!” sunoo exclaimed. you propped your phone up on the roll of paper towels as you began making something to eat. “but now you can come work with me!”

your face scrunched up. “i’d rather get evicted. love you though!” sunoo was a florist. there wasn’t anything wrong with that, but you could barely tell a daisy apart from a daffodil. and the thought of being surrounded by a bunch of different flower smells gave you another headache.

sunoo rolled his eyes. “fine then!” on your phone screen he raised his hands up and took a step back from the camera. “be broke then! don’t come crying to me when you’re out on the streets in the pouring rain waiting on a miracle when i’m offering you one right now!” you laughed at him.

“whatever! working with you is my last option though.” you put a pot of water on the stove for ramen. you really didn’t feel like making something elaborate after the day you had. “help me, sunoo! start listing off available jobs!”

he raised his eyebrow at you, “what makes you think i know what jobs are available and what jobs aren’t? go on google!” you rolled your eyes at him. he chuckled at you. “i did hear that that bakery downtown was looking for new employees, though.”

you raised your eyebrows at him, an ��i told you so!’ smile on your face. he just rolled his eyes at you. “are they? i’ll have to call them. that’s a job for tomorrow y/n, though. i am so fucking tired.”

“i’d be tired too if i acted like a menace everyday,” sunoo replied. you shot him a look. “i do not act like a menace!”

“this is your second job in like three months… who are you? trish from austin and ally?” you gasped, putting a hand to your chest in somewhat fake shock. at least trish got a new job easily. it took you forever to find that pizza place job, and even longer for you to actually start working. you very nearly actually almost did get evicted if sunoo hadn’t stepped in and helped you.

“goodbye! i love you!” you said and leaned on the counter towards the counter. sunoo gave the camera a kiss and you jumped away in mock disgust. “bye, i love you!”

you ended your call and sat down to eat the ramen you made. sighing, you shoveled the noodles into your mouth. you really hoped that you got hired at this bakery. you didn’t know what you were gonna do if you don’t.

the next day you were up bright and early in the morning ready to call the bakery. you scoured google to see what the number was and after a couple misdirects you finally found it. your hands shook slightly as you pressed the phone to your ear and listened to the rings.

“hello, nap of a star bakery! if you are calling for a custom pie, orders will be pushed until next week!” a deep voice said over the line. your eyebrows raised slightly in shock and you hesitated for a moment as you thought of your next words.

“hello! i was actually calling to ask if you were hiring,” you replied. there was slight shuffling on the phone. “hello! yes, we are! have you picked up an application from the bakery? i can also email you a pdf version of it if you choose.”

you thought for a moment. it couldn’t hurt to go down and actually check the place out before deciding to work there. you did not need another repeat of the arcade job again.

“that’s okay! i can come down to the bakery for it!” the voice gave you an, “okay, have a good day!” and you hung up the phone after repeating them. you got your things together and left your apartment.

it took you a good minute to find the bakery. sunoo even had to text you directions. you recalled that the bakery was new and local. it was tucked away in between two buildings on the corner of the street. you parked your car and stepped your way towards the door.

the bell above the door rang as you pushed it open and stepped inside. behind the counter, a very tall dark-haired guy stood covered in flour rolling dough in a bowl. his head snapped up at the sound and a friendly smile plastered on his face. he pulled the gloves off and sat them next to the bowl. then he came up to where the cash register and a monitor were.

“hello! how may i help you?” he asked, rolling up his falling sleeves.

you took a look around the establishment. it was actually very nice. behind him, a chalkboard of everything their selling was written in an array of different colors. different baked goods were on display under the counter where the guy stood. there was also a door behind him to the back. natural light filtered in from the big windows at the front of the shop, highlighting the light minty colored walls and hanging stars. wooden tables and chairs with quilted seat covers tied to them were scattered around the open space. the overhead lighting was subtle and not harsh like so many other bakeries were. all in all, the bakery was very cozy.

“hi,” you smiled, “i called here not too long ago. about the applications?” his face lit up in realization and his mouth formed an ‘o’ shape. he started to move around the counter.

“ah, yes! the applications! i can get you a pen if you want to fill it out here?” he asked as he grabbed the application from one of the tables near the door and turned to hand it to you. “assuming you brought your resume…” he then trailed off, a shy smile on his lips.

thankfully you did bring your resume. you took the application from him. “i did, actually, thank you!” he nodded slightly to himself and he walked back over to the counter and grabbed a pen from a cup next to the keyboard. he handed that to you as well. “here you go!”

you sat at one of the tables a little ways away from the counter. customers began filing in for orders as you filled the application out. all the motion was distracting you and you couldn’t help watching the dark-haired guy work.

he seemed to move fluidly from taking an order, pressing it all into the monitor, and either retrieving it from the back or display. you didn’t even realize he was also making more things while taking and completing orders until you saw him furiously trying to get the flour off himself when there were no customers around. you giggle lowly to yourself and finally finished filling the application out.

his back was turned to you as you walked up to the counter. he was still trying to get the flour off of him but was spreading it all over his clothes and apron instead. “uh, i finished the application,” you said softly. he jumped and quickly turned to you, an embarrassed smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

you stacked your resume with the application and handed it to him with the pen on top. he took it from you and sat it next to the keyboard.

you got the chance to get a look at his name tag attached to his brown and mint apron. the pretty signature with a shooting star next to it told you that his name was soobin. you got a good look at his face. he was quite pretty, even covered in flour.

he laid his hands flat on the counter and leaned towards you slightly. “okay, so your application will get registered and we should be with you within the week!” he told you, giving you another friendly smile. you returned it. “thank you!”

“have a good day!” you shot his words back to him and left the bakery, making your way to your car.

it was torture waiting for the email to know if you got the job or not. you were sitting in the chair behind the counter at chaconne, the flower shop that sunoo worked at, eyes glued to your phone as you kept refreshing your inbox.

“refreshing your inbox every five seconds isn’t going to make the email appear faster.” sunoo said as he arranged different flowers into a bouquet.

you sighed and slouched in the chair. you guess he was right. it’s only been a couple of days and it seemed like soobin was the only employee.

after sunoo wrapped the flowers and tied it off, he turned to you. today was a slow day in the shop, hence why you were behind the counter. not that sunoo’s boss minded, mrs. jeon loves you.

“so… anyone cute working at the bakery?” he asked, smirking. you looked up from your phone and chuckled. “there’s only one employee, at least i think. he was cute, in fact!” you replied. sunoo’s face lit up.

you tilted your head at him, you knew that look. that was his matchmaking look. “absolutely not,” you quickly said before he could open his mouth. “i need to keep this job if i do get it.” he brought his shoulders up.

“it’s gonna happen anyways. what else are the both of you to do in there together except get to know each other?” he brought his shoulders down and then leaned towards you, eyes wide. “what’s his personality like, tell me! he’s a baker right? duh, of course he is. i bet he’s a softie.” sunoo started rambling, mainly to himself.

you held your hands up. “woah, i met him for a total of like twenty minutes. i don’t have that information.” sunoo sighed and turned back around as customers entered.

you kept refreshing your phone, making small talk with sunoo as he made more bouquets. suddenly, you heard a ‘ping!’ sound and your eyes snapped to your phone to see the notification. “oh my god! it’s from the bakery!” you exclaimed. sunoo came over to you and leaned down next to you to see your phone. “well open it!”

you did just that and almost screamed from excitement had it not been for sunoo covering your mouth and looking around the shop at the lingering customers. “i’m not gonna get evicted!” you exclaimed and sunoo laughed as he rang up another customer.

it was your first day of working at nap of a star bakery and you were standing next to soobin and the owner of the bakery as your training started. it turns out that soobin was the son of the owner, and so far it was just the two of them at the shop. well, now the three of you.

“i’m so thankful you put in an application, y/n dear. it’s been difficult running the bakery with just my boy. your extra hands are very welcome!” mrs. choi told you, smiling warmly. you noticed the light blush across soobin’s cheeks as he rubbed his hand over his face. you smiled warmly at mrs. choi, “i’m very thankful you decided to hire me!”

she put you and soobin to work in the back room, starting on the goods, as she dealt with the customers up front. soobin began showing you how to make the dough for snickerdoodles. you stood side by side in your matching aprons and gloves.

“you want to make sure that you add enough flour so the consistency isn’t super sticky.” soobin said as he showed you the amount of flour to put into it. you let out a brief laugh.

“this isn’t my first time baking, i got this.” you gave him a confident smile. he raised his eyebrows.

“okay then… all you!” he took a step back from the bowl and you took one towards it.

you made snickerdoodles before. at least, you think you did. they were a pretty popular cookie to make, surely you’ve made them at least once in your life before. you cracked the eggs soobin had put out into the bowl. soobin had already added the butter, so it was up to you to figure out the rest of the ingredients.

thinking of what usually goes into cookies, you started reaching for different things. you eyeballed the amount you put in.

“oh! that’s not— you should really measure the ingredients!” soobin suddenly exclaimed. you felt his watchful eyes on you as you worked. you waved a hand behind you. you had this.

once you got all the ingredients in, you dug your gloved hands in and started mixing. there was sputtering from soobin behind you, but you ignored him. the dough was really sticky, so you took soobin’s words from earlier and reached for the flour.

the flour suddenly quickly poured out from the bag, way too much of it falling into the bowl. “oops!” you muttered, setting the bag back down, getting sticky dough everywhere. you dug your hands in again and started mixing until the dough was firm. you picked some up and rolled it into a small ball, then dipped the outside of the ball into the sugar and cinnamon mixture soobin has already set out.

you continued the process a few more times, struggling with the crumbling dough, until you filled the pan. you peeled off your gloves and picked the pan up, walking over to where the stoves were, a dumbfounded soobin trailing behind you.

mrs. choi popped her head in from the door and asked you both how it was going. you both turned. “it’s going great!” you beamed, pan still in hand. she gave you both a satisfied smile and went back to the front.

you put the pan of cookies in the oven. setting it to 415° you thought aloud at the amount of minutes you should set the timer for. “i think ten minutes should be good. or maybe fifteen? i’ll do fifteen just to be sure!”

once that was all settled, you dusted off your apron and turned to soobin, who was staring at you with wide eyes and mouth agape. “see, i told you. i got this! so what’s next?” your question must’ve snapped him out of his daze.

“oh— uh… you know— let’s just wait until the cookies are done. then we’ll continue.” he stuttered. you shrugged, stepping away from the stoves to get new gloves.

the timer dinged and you grabbed an oven mitt to take the pan of cookies out of the oven. you sat the pan on the cooling rack as you turned the oven off. soobin came near you and leaned over the freshly baked cookies, inspecting them. they were a pretty deep golden brown.

he grabbed the nearby metal spatula and went to lift one of the cookies to look under it. the cookie completely crumbled as he did. the inside was burnt. your mouth dropped in shock.

soobin looked over to you, his hand with the spatula still hanging in the air. he straightened, “so… let me show you how to actually make snickerdoodles. so that they don’t turn out like… this.” he motioned with the spatula to your failed cookies.

you nodded and couldn’t help but laugh. soobin hesitated before joining in with you. “this was a disaster, i’m sorry.” you said, covering your mouth. soobin took another look at the cookies before throwing them away in the nearby trash can. he looked back to you, “are you sure you’ve baked before?”

an embarrassed smile spread on your face. “no, not really. i mean i’ve made those cookies from the packages where you just have to add water…” soobin gave you a bemused look. he shook his head slightly and motioned you over to where the ingredients were.

standing next to him, he began guiding you on how to actually make snickerdoodles, you following his instructions. when you were about to do something wrong, like stick your gloved hands in the bowl to mix the dough again, he would stop you and tell you how to actually do it. “instead of mixing it with your hands, you want to take this—“ he held up a straight spatula “—and fold the dough instead.” soobin demonstrated for you as he spoke.

you nodded, following along. soobin stopped his motions and handed you the spatula. you took it from him and picked up from where he left off, folding the dough. once everything was mixed, soobin softly clapped. you laughed in amusement.

he pointed to the dough, “see how it’s not super sticky and not as firm and crumbly as yours was? that’s the consistency you want. this is the consistency that you’ll mainly be working towards when baking anything.” he picked up a small amount of dough and began rolling it between his hands. you copied his actions, and then rolled the ball into the sugar and cinnamon mixture.

after filling the pan, once again, soobin took the pan over to the oven and placed it inside. he turned to you, a reassuring smile on his face. “you don’t want to put it on too high or keep the cookies in for too long.” he put the oven on 350° and set the timer for 8 minutes.

“if you feel like maybe they’ve been in for too long, then you can go ahead and check them. i usually use a toothpick and the spatula to check the consistency and to make sure the bottom isn’t burnt.” soobin said. he did just that and backed away, his mouth forming a satisfied grin. nodding, you took in all the information he had just taught you.

that’s how the rest of your shift went. soobin walking you through how to make various baked goods. once you felt like you could start working on your own, soobin would move on to work on something else. here and there he would give you his input, and you’d apply it to whatever you were making. you and soobin made small talk as you worked, getting to know each other until it was time for you to start cleaning up.

you were absolutely covered in flour and dried dough. thankfully, once you and soobin we’re done with one baked good, you would clean whatever you used and the area before starting the next thing. so it wasn’t as messy as you were initially expecting the end of the day to be. you stripped your gloves off and threw them into the trash, soobin doing the same.

the two of you stood at the sink, him washing the dishes and you drying and putting them away. “i have an idea,” you said, breaking the comfortable silence between the two of you. soobin looked over to you, shaking his head a little to get their hair out of his eyes. he raised an eyebrow in question. “tomorrow we should see who can make the most stuff. like a competition! we can compete and whoever makes the most goods at the end of the week can win a prize or something! i don’t know, we can workshop the idea.” you exclaimed, you gave him a big hopeful smile as you rinsed and dried the dish he handed you.

“compete?” he asked. you nodded. he hummed as he thought. “okay! how are we gonna tally up points?” you put the whisk back in the drawer as you thought.

“each baked good can be a certain amount of points! like cakes and pies are three, pastries and cupcakes are two, and cookies and whatever else are one?” you looked at him, head tilted. “we can keep track on the chalkboard!” you then pointed over to the chalkboard next to where the door to the front of the bakery was. right now, it had a half erased list of what the two of you needed to make on it.

“okay!” soobin smiled. “let’s do it!” you squealed a little and ran over to the chalkboard, erasing the list on it. “hey! you’re suppose to be helping me wash dishes!” soobin laughed. you ignored him as you wrote.

on the chalkboard you wrote soobin and y/n in capital letters, drawing a line between your names and under them so it formed a table. “today doesn’t count since i was learning.” you spoke, placing the piece of chalk back on the little rack and turning to him. he looked back at you as he washed the dishes, grinning. you returned to his side and rinsed the dishes that he piled up.

“it’s on!” you said and glanced over to him. he laughed and shook his head. “in your wildest dreams.”

sunday rolled around quite fast and the bake off competition between you and soobin was at an all time high. currently, soobin was winning with a total of sixty-seven points. you were close behind him with sixty-six points. you were rushing to finish the cookies you were making for another point. the timer on the oven sounded off and you jumped in excitement, pulling out the freshly baked perfect cookies.

“another point for me!” you exclaimed, walking over to the chalkboard and adding a tally under your name. you turned to soobin with a wide grin. “now we’re tied!”

“because you keep cheating! all you’ve been doing the whole day is making cookies!” soobin spoke as he frosted a cake order meant for a birthday. on the top, the cake read “happy birthday honey!” with yellow and orange swirls and hearts. your grin widen and you gave a smug shrug. “step your cookies up before you crumble!”

soobin playfully scoffed at you and went back to adding intricate tubing to the cake. you leaned over it, watching him work. “i would be ahead of you right now if you didn’t take all the cakes and pies.” you mumbled, loud enough for him to hear. he chuckled at you, staring over at you for a brief second.

“i’ll let you have the next one,” soobin said softly. he added the last bit of tubing on the cake before the door to the front opened. mrs. choi came in with a small piece of paper in hand. you and soobin turned towards her in unison.

“another order for one of our famous blueberry pies!” mrs. choi exclaimed as she wiggled the paper. she pinned it on the cork board next to the chalkboard with your scores and went back up to the front.

you and soobin looked back to each other, frozen. you saw the gears in his brain turning as you stared into his eyes. in the short week you’ve gotten to know him and the competition you’ve both started, you learned to read the look in his eyes when he’s up to something. narrowing your eyes slightly, you shifted your body ever so subtly to the cork board just in case you needed to make a break for it. a slight smile tugged at the corners of soobin’s mouth.

“it’s all you,” he said lowly. your eyes narrowed further and cautiously you took a step, eyes locked on him. taking another, and another until you reached the cork board, you let your eyes slip from him and his wide smile. the bag of frosting still in his hand.

snatching the piece of paper, your eyes scoured over it hungrily, taking in all of the information. a mischievous smile spread across your lips as you read further and saw that the order also called for four blueberry and lemon puffed pastries. you were so winning this battle.

you felt a breath on your neck and turned to see soobin looming over you. you quickly pressed the paper to your chest and faced him, a gasp escaping your lips.

“cheater! you said you were gonna give me this one!” an amused smile took over your mischievous one. soobin held a cake box, cake inside, in his arms. he lifted his shoulders, a laugh shaking them.

“you were taking too long for it to be a simple blueberry pie.” soobin set the cake box on the table by the door to the front. he then put a finger to his lips and tapped it cartoonishly, eyes looking up to the ceiling as he hummed. “and did i say i was going to give you this one?” you nodded quickly.

“i lied,” soobin said. he then dashed to the table where the ingredients were. you dashed after him, trying to start the pie before he did.

the two of you moved frantically around the large kitchen, running into each other and stumbling over things sitting on the floor. you quickly whisked together cornstarch and sugar as you ran to the fridge. pushing soobin out the way with your hip and spilling a little bit of the mixture over you, you retrieved the fresh blueberries with your free hand and ran over to the stove.

soobin already had a saucepan on the stove ready with the heat on. water and lemon juice already inside. you tipped the cornstarch and sugar mixture inside as well, half of it landing on the stove top rather than in the pan. you grabbed the spoon next to the stove and began furiously mixing before you felt hands around your hips. soobin pulled you away from the stove and to the side as he snatched the spoon from your hands and started mixing himself.

a giggle escaped your lips as you turned back to the ingredients table and finished the dough he started. it was already done since it had been refrigerated yesterday. you grabbed the rolling pin and flattened the dough out, making sure to flour the surfaces so the dough doesn’t stick. saving enough of the dough for the lattice of the pie, you pressed the remaining dough into a pie plate that you quickly grabbed. you then trimmed and fluted the edges.

you ran to get a circular knife. soobin must’ve finally noticed that you weren’t hovering around him and turned to see what you were doing, a confident smile on his lips. the smile dropped when he saw that you already had the base of the pie ready. soobin dropped the spoon on the counter next to the stove and dashed to where you were cutting strips into dough.

soobin tried to push you out the way with his hip but you dug your feet into ground and pushed him back. you started cutting the dough faster, the strips coming out sloppy and uneven. majority of them weren’t even the same length.

“accept defeat!” you laughed as you moved soobin’s prying hands away from the dough. the kitchen was filled with laughs and soobin poked a finger into your side, making you jump. “not when i’m so close to glory!”

“let me have this like you said you would!” you exclaimed. you were coming up on the last strips that you needed for the pie. it was hard to cut the dough when soobin kept grabbing at it. giggling, you pressed the circular knife back into the dough moving hurriedly when you got another shove from soobin’s hip.

the circular knife suddenly nicked your finger and you jumped back, dropping the knife, as blood began flowing from the wound. you both freeze and suddenly soobin is grabbing your hand with the bloody finger.

unconsciously, soobin puts your bloody finger in his mouth. all movements freeze as you stare at each other with wide eyes. not even breathing could be heard. the two of you are covered in various different ingredients and the kitchen around you is a mess.

soobin slowly takes your finger out of his mouth, his eyes widening by the second. your heart starts to beat rapidly at the exchange. heat warms up your face in full force and you can see the redness creep up from the back of soobin’s neck.

“oh my god…” soobin finally says. he’s still holding your hand, but, thanks to him the blood is no longer flowing. “oh my god! i’m so sorry, y/n! that was a force of habit.” soobin repeats. you let out an anxious giggle.

“you usually put people’s bloody fingers in your mouth?” you ask teasingly. his cheeks are a deep pink and you giggle at the sight. your heart seems to be beating faster and faster with each passing moment. soobin breaks away from your gaze with great effort, embarrassment written clearly all over his features. the tension between you is high and you start to sweat in your loose clothes and apron.

“i’m so so sorry, i really did not mean to do that,” soobin says lowly. you break into a fit of giggles, amused by the whole thing. slowly, soobin joins you with hesitant chuckles. soon you’re both doubled over, stomachs hurting from laughing so hard.

you’re holding onto the table for support when soobin speaks again. “maybe… we should take a breather…” he trails and you nod in agreement, holding your stomach slightly. soobin takes your hand softly and leads you to the sink where the first aid is. he motions for you to wash your hands. as you wash them, he pulls out a bandaid and begins opening it. once your hands are dry, he gently takes them and wraps the bandaid around the shallow wound on your finger.

soobin smiles shyly at you, his hands still holding yours. “y’know what… you can have the pie.” the blush on his cheeks has spread to his whole face as he spoke. you giggle and nod, “yeah, i would like that.” soobin’s face lights up in sudden realization.

“oh my god! the pie!” he turns to the stove, letting go of your hands, as he runs over to it. he takes the saucepan with the blueberry filling off the heated burner and puts it on one of the ones that’s turned off. you jog over to him, you both inspect the filling as he takes the spoon and mixes it. it was a little thicker than you both intended, but it was fine. you look at each other and start laughing.

“here, you finish the pie, and i’ll start cleaning up. we both look like a mess.” soobin hands you the spoon with a grin and you take it. he tried wiping some of the flour off of him to no avail as he walked over to the ingredients table.

by the time the blueberry filling has cooled, soobin has cleaned the majority of the kitchen. you bring the pan with the filling over to the pie plate and pour it inside the crust, saving the remaining for the pastries. soobin had already gotten the pastries ready for you, so you used the remaining filling for them.

the lattice for the top of the pie came out shotty at best, but it wouldn’t matter once it baked. you put both the pie and the pastries into their own oven and set them to cook. you turned to soobin to see he was about to start washing the dishes.

“i’ll wash them,” you said. he’s basically cleaned the whole kitchen, it was the least you can do. you washed and dried the dishes, putting them back in their respective places. you leaned back onto the counter near the ovens next to soobin.

soobin had updated the chalkboard, adding his three points for the cake he made and your seven points for the pie and pastries. he bumped your shoulder with his. “you won,” he said softly. soobin then grinned and added, “this week.” you chuckled at him, turning to him slightly.

“so what’s my prize?” you asked. the two of you hadn’t actually come up with what the prize would be. you’ve both been too focused on making the baked goods to actually win. soobin’s eyes wided a fraction, blush once again reddening his cheeks slightly. “what do you want?”

you faced forward again as you thought about it. “i don’t know… what are you willing to give me?” soobin’s blush deepens, but you aren’t facing him to notice. after a moment with no answer, you looked over to him, awaiting an answer. his head is angled down and it’s subtly tilted away from you.

soobin let’s out a cough and wipes his face before looking back up at you. “uh— what— um… how about i bake you anything of your choosing?” he sputters. you smile at him, “anything? even if it’s difficult?” soobin playfully scoffed and waved a hand in the air before crossing his arms over his chest.

“nothing is too difficult for me! it can be anything! cake, pie, pastry, cookie, bread, whatever. puffed, filled, turnovers, upside down, layered, anything. whatever you choose!” you thought for a moment, then smiled warmly at him. “what about blueberry bread?” you asked. “but, like really fancy… in honor of my first win and for many to come!”

he laughed at the smirk on your face. “done! when do you want it?” you shrugged at him, “whenever you have the time.” he nodded, more to himself than to you.

you were excited to see how soobin made the blueberry bread. you giggled at the thought of him giving you a fancy set up for something as simple as bread. nodding back to him anyway, the two of you made your way to the front of the bakery to end your shift.

sunoo had an eyebrow raised as you recalled the previous day’s events. he was half listening to your rambling and half paying attention to the customer he was checking out.

“and then,” you said, literally sitting on the edge of your seat, “he put my finger in his mouth!” sunoo whipped around to face you, eyes wide. the customer, who was starting to walk away, froze in their spot, also staring widely at you. “i know,” you nodded.

“he didn’t mean to… he said it was a force of habit, but still. like what? my heart was beating so fast, sunoo, you don’t even understand!” you continued. the customer gave you a wide playful smile and a thumbs up before exiting the shop. sunoo gasped as he took your hands.

sunoo looked at the fresh bandaid on your finger intensely. he then leaned back and looked at you, a knowing smirk on his lips. “what did i say, y/n! what did i say!” he teased. “and what happened after that? you started taking off each other’s clothes?” your face heated.

“no! we went back to baking!” you smacked his arm. sunoo sighed loudly. “lame! you should’ve told him to fill something else.” he gave you a wink as another customer came in.

you covered your flushed face with your hands. “sunoo!” you harshly whispered. he just laughed at you.

when you went into the bakery for your shift that day, you were surprised to see that soobin had already prepared your prize. in the back, the ingredients table was decorated with a flowery tablecloth. there was a pretty lace doily under where the plate of blueberry bread sat. candles were lit and there was a small note that read: for the talented y/n y/l/n in a bold cursive font.

soobin then came up to you, he was dressed very nicely with a button up shirt tucked into black slacks. there was a matching black tie tied around his neck. he held a metal plate with a tea towel and wrapped silverware on it in one hand, the other arm pressed behind his back.

“for you, my dear.” he held the metal plate towards you in a bow. you let out a small laugh at the whole scene as you took the contents from the plate. heart skipping a beat. just then did you realize that soobin had drawn a cartoonish mustache on his upper lip. loud belly laughs erupted from you and you leaned against the table for support. “the mustache?” you managed to breathe out, it being followed by another fit of laughter.

soobin joined you, relaxing his stiff stance. he sat the metal plate on the table. “you said make it fancy! i made it fancy!” you giggled and nodded, “you sure did!” he motioned towards the blueberry bread with a white gloved hand. you had to stifle your laugh at it.

“well? go on and try it!” you smiled at him and grabbed the knife from the wrapped silverware he had given you. you cut a slice of blueberry bread off the loaf and sat it on the awaiting plate next to it. grabbing your fork, you waved it in the air with a giggle and then used it to grab a piece of the bread. you ate the piece and thought for a moment as you swallowed it.

“wow!” you said as you grabbed another piece, “this is delicious!” soobin smirked smugly and raised his hands. “what can i say? i’m actually gordon ramsey.” you choked a little on the bread as you erupted into laughter. “sure…” you trailed playfully.

it’s been a little over a month since you’ve started working at nap of a star bakery, and it has been the best job you’ve ever had thus far. the little competition between you and soobin had turned from small battles to a full blown war. the two of you were baking so much to garner extra points that the bakery had a bunch of overstock and mrs. choi had to tell you both to slow down.

in that time, you and soobin have grown closer than ever. “i’m starting to feel replaced,” sunoo had said to you the other day, after telling him how soobin cheated to win that week. the competition had gotten so serious between the two of you that you were now competing to see who was the better baker. you even brought sunoo to the bakery a couple of times to be the judge.

you and soobin were once again frantically running around the kitchen, this time fighting over who gets to bake the wedding cake a customer ordered. you held a large plastic tray in your hands, running over to the ingredients table when your foot caught on a bag of flour and you and the plastic tray suddenly went flying. hands quickly caught your waist and steadied you before any real damage could happen. the tray made a loud noise as it landed on the ground, startling you more.

you breathed heavily in shock as you turned to look at soobin, your eyes wide. “woah,” you said. you both broke out into laughter. “jesus, y/n, you almost just saw the light.” soobin’s hands were still on your waist as you turned to face him fully. “thankfully you were here!”

soobin removed his hands and your waist felt cold without them. “maybe we should just work together on this one…” he trailed as he looked around the mess of the kitchen. “i mean, this is someone’s wedding cake after all.” you nodded in agreement, chuckling a little. he smiled warmly at you.

reaching up to his face, you giggled, “you have flour on your nose.” you purposely wiped flour on him and he scrunched his nose a little, a small grin on his lips. soobin takes his flour covered hands and wipes them across your cheeks. “you have flour on your cheeks,” he says. you raise your eyebrows as you look at him.

the two of you are laughing softly as you stare at each other. you dip your hands into the flour sitting on the table and cup both of soobin’s cheeks with your hands. this is a side game you and soobin have started recently, going up to each other with flour and saying that the other has flour on them. it makes even more of a mess, and mrs. choi is always surprised to see you when you go back to the front of the bakery, but it’s fun.

you’ve been secretly drawing hearts with flour on him and giggling at his confused stare when you wouldn’t tell him what you drew. it was always in a place he couldn’t see or reach.

“can you guess what i’m about to say?” you ask him. you feel his cheeks lift into a smile and see his dimples pop out. he starts laughing, “you have flour on your cheeks?” giggling at him, you squeeze his face a little.

“you have flour on your cheeks.”

you’re mere inches away from each other. somehow, soobin’s hands have found their way back to your waist and you’re both giggling as you stare into each other’s eyes. once the giggles subside and nothing but smiles are left, you notice an emotion you can’t figure out swirl in soobin’s eyes.

your heart is beating rapidly in your chest as you realize your sudden closeness and you watch as soobin’s eyes briefly flicker down to your lips. inhaling, you decide to just go for it and act on your emotions. you bring your lips to soobin’s, pressing them together softly. his hands tighten slightly at your waist as he kisses you back.

the kiss is slow and intimate. for a while now you’ve been crushing on him, ever since the day he made you that blueberry bread as a prize. sunoo has teased you mercilessly about it, calling himself cupid even though he had no hand in your blossoming feelings. the times when you brought him to the bakery to judge, he would drop not so subtle hints about your crush. you had to always give him a harsh glare over soobin’s shoulder.

your arms wrapped around soobin’s neck, pulling him closer to you as the kiss deepened. your bodies were pressed up against each other. pulling away from the kiss slightly, you tried to breathe. your breath lightly fanned his cheek, lifting some of the flour off of it. soobin leaned towards you and kissed you passionately, his arms wrapping tighter around your waist.

when you broke apart, you both were breathing heavily, lips plumped at the sudden exchange. you smiled a little, “i’ve been waiting for you to do that.” soobin chuckled. “i’m sorry i didn’t do it sooner.” you both leaned in for another kiss but jumped apart when you heard the door to the front open.

mrs. choi took one good look at the two of you and shook her head in amusement. “how the two of you always manage to get covered in so much flour always amuses me!” she held up two small pieces of paper. “more orders! business is booming!” she laughed and the two of you awkwardly joined her. once she left, you and soobin looked at each other and started to laugh. you were absolutely covered in flour, mrs. choi was right. soobin nodded his head over to the abandoned dough you had started and the two of you began working on the wedding cake again. this time, together.

it was after hours at the bakery and you and soobin had your friends sitting at one of the tables at the front of the bakery so they could be the judges of who’s baked goods were better. you had met each other’s friends a couple times now through various judging events, so when you asked them to judge the final round to put it all to rest, they accepted.

today, you were going to find out just how much of a better baker you are than soobin. and you are gonna laugh in his face when everyone says how good your baked goods are. currently, you and soobin were in the back preparing your dishes. you had decided on a french profiterole cake while soobin had decided on a gâteau basque cake. you knew your cake was delicious, you had been practicing ever since you and soobin decided that you should have one last round to see who the greatest baker was.

soobin held a small plate out with a small slice of the cake he had made for the challenge out to you. you raised your eyebrows in shock and smiled up to him. “you trying to boost your ego before the judgment?” you asked as you took the fork from him and took a bite of the cake. your eyes widen at the flavor. “this is amazing, soobin! oh my god!” maybe you weren’t gonna win this after all…

soobin smiled warmly at you as he held up a small, rolled up piece of paper. you sat the plate down on the nearby table and took it from him, unrolling it. “be mine?” he asked, right as your eyes trailed over the same words on the paper. a smile broke out on your face and you stared up at him. he held another small plate on it, a small cake flower in the center. you giggled as you took the plate from him. “of course i’ll be yours!”

you sat the plate with the flower next to the plate with the slice of cake as you wrapped your arms around soobin’s neck, pulling him down into a kiss. he laughed softly against your lips and pulled you close.

“hello?” you heard a voice drag out from the front of the bakery. “when are we going to get to judge? i didn’t come here hungry for nothing!” you heard muffled voices and then a “shh! shut up beomgyu! what if they’re getting busy? you know how badly he needs that.”

giggling, you pulled away from soobin, giggling harder at his flushed cheeks. you held his hand and looked longingly at him. “you ready?” you asked. soobin nodded, then smirked a little. “you ready to get told you’re the second best baker?”

you rolled your eyes at him playfully, letting go of his hand so that you can grab your cake. the two of you brought your cakes out to the front and your friends erupted into claps. “finally!” soobin’s friend beomgyu had said. his arm got playfully hit by the guy next to him, who you’ve come to know as yeonjun.

“i love you, y/n, but if your cake tastes like shit i’m spitting it out and looking at you with the upmost betrayal. don’t embarrass me here after i’ve been talking you up!” sunoo teased as you and soobin sat your cakes down in front of them. you laughed at him, holding a hand to your chest in mock hurt.

there were already empty plates and silverware placed in front of all of your friends. “alright!” you started. “welcome to the great bake off! yes, the great british bake off was copyrighted… but that’s okay!” laughter sounded around you as you clapped your hands together. you looked over at soobin, “do you wanna go first or do you want me to go first?”

soobin shrugged. “i’ll go first.” he cut slices of his cake and put them each on your friends’ empty plates. “alright, you already know how the judging works. each judge will take a bite from the food and we’ll go down a line one by one for statements. dig in!” soobin spoke. your friends did just that, murmurs of how good the cake was coming from them.

“alright, kai, you’re up!” kai hummed and put a finger to his chin as he thought. “it was absolutely disgusting,” he said as he took another bite. “seriously soobin, what is wrong with you?” kai kept eating the cake as you all laughed.

taehyun nodded in approval, praising soobin for how good of a job he did with the cake. yeonjun stood from the table, did a cartwheel, and sat back down before calmly saying that it was delicious. you and sunoo stared at him with wide eyes as you saw the regret and slight embarrassment form on his heated face. beomgyu hummed, dramatically putting a finger to his lips and tapping as he kept taking more bites. he hummed again.

soobin walked up to him and grabbed him around the collarbones, shaking him slightly as everyone laughed. “it’s really good!” beomgyu said as he sat his fork down, plate empty. yeonjun shook his head at him. sunoo then cleared his throat, sitting up straight. “it was very delicious, but not as good as y/n’s cake!” he said. you laughed, “you haven't even tasted mine yet!” sunoo shot you a glare with wide eyes as he shushed you.

you cut up slices of your cake for the judges, putting one on each of their plates. they barely took a bite of your cake before they all jumped up from their seats and started loudly clapping. dramatically saying how wonderful your cake is and how their taste buds have never graced such perfection. you couldn’t help the laugh that spilled from your mouth at them.

“fantastic! you are truly are the best baker that ever lived!” taehyun exclaimed, clapping hard. “truly, truly. i mean, this cake is godly! higher than that even!” sunoo added as he dramatically took another bite and melted back down into his chair. you shook your head at them.

you looked over to soobin, pouting. he laughed softly at your acceptance of defeat. his cake was absolutely amazing…

soobin came over to you, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you close. you looked at him as he smiled down at you. playfully, you rolled your eyes and crossed your arms. soobin placed a kiss on the top of your head, leaning his head against yours as you both watched the dramatic appraisal from both of your friends.

© jjunieworld - all rights reserved. please do not repost on any social media sites, translate, or modify any of my works.

taglist: @jjunberry @gothgyuu @spooksh0wbabe @beargyuuzz @kittyhyuka

masterlist┊part two┊request rules ༘ ˚· ౨ৎ ฅ/ᐠ. ̫ .ᐟ\ฅ

[peachsayshi]

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄ being wrapped in your arms feels like coming home ⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

wc: 1,820

minors / ageless blogs / blank blogs - do not interact.

notes: here is a little drabble in honor of toji's birthday! this piece was originally titled as "adoration" but I changed it to this instead. I'm taking a small posting break, but I'll be back to my regular schedule within a week! I'm sorry if I haven't been responding to tags or messages, but I will do so soon <3 I hope you're all having a wonderful time and I'm sending all my well wishes out to you! xo

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ tags: widow toji; age gap (reader is 30 while toji is in his early 40s); a little angsty; toji attempting to break up with you but failing because he's oh so in love

toji overstayed his welcome which was only supposed to last the scorching heat of summer, but he found himself lingering through the quiet stillness of fall. winter came in with a brisk chill and gloomy skies, and that's when toji knew it was time for him to end things with you.

he’s lost interest far quicker in previous relationships. they served their purpose of healing over the wound in his heart, of soothing away the ache of loneliness. he oftens forgets that he was once a loyal, loving husband whenever he abandons yet another fling.

the difference, however, is he at least had the guts to verbally cut things off before.

fucking pathetic, he thinks as he scolds himself. he's been a coward, reducing his actions to disappearing before the sunlight peeks through the horizon, and avoiding any chance of waking you up. he ensures that he is never there to see the way your brows furrow with concern when your hand meets the cold pillow, because otherwise he would falter in his attempt to escape.

this has been going on for over two weeks now but last night was the first time you've actually snapped at his cold, detached behavior. he approached the argument with nonchalance to wither you down, shrugging off the gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach and then walking out halfway through the fight.

he stayed at a motel thinking that maybe you have finally taken the hint that he's done.

he arrives back to his apartment only to be met with unfamiliar silence. the entrance of his home is dark and lifeless, and it's so quiet he can even hear a pin drop. there's a tightness in his chest, followed by a wave of disappointment that runs over him like a feverish shiver.

despite his hard headed decision, he's still anticipating on hearing your lovely voice to greet him as he walks through the door.

he knows it's selfish.

toji expected many things to happen after last night's fight. he figured the reaction to him leaving you (again) would be far bigger. a screaming phone call or a string of cursing text messages to call him out on his shitty behavior.

after all he deserves it for acting like an insufferable asshole.

he tries to swallow his guilt but it remains lodged in his throat when he acknowledges that this might actually be the end. 

the expression on his features falls.

it’s better this way, he consoles, dragging his feet across the floor to approach his kitchenette. he shrugs off his beaten up, oversized coat and tosses it over one of the chairs. he opens one of the cupboards, and grabs a mug to prepare himself a cup of tea.

she’s too young to settle for a guy like me, he continues. widowed with two kids who he barely sees anymore, working paycheck to paycheck just to make ends meet…

a deadbeat.

he exhales, swirling his brew in his ceramic cup. the aroma of sweet leaves dances up the spiral of steam to kiss his nose.

she deserves more than me.

he places the kettle down but stares at the cup mindlessly, losing all train of thought as his hands grip onto the edge of the counter. 

he can acknowledge that his insecurities are clouding his judgement on something truly special, even though this was only ever meant to be purely physical.

except, the sex was growing more intimate. the experience wasn't about pleasure for him anymore. he would find himself losing all focus to the depth of your pretty eyes, stealing kiss after kiss like your mouth was the source of where all his happiness belongs.

belonged.

belonged.

it’s over now, he thinks again. it has to be.

a faint patter of footsteps distracts him, prompting him to ease his hold on the counter as the muscles on his face relax. his heart steadies itself, and he draws in a breath when he feels two arms delicately twine around his waist.

“you’re...still here...” he points out in shock. 

he feels you press your forehead into his back. “of course, where else would I be?” 

he clears his throat to release the guilt then spins on his heel to face you.

"I thought you might have taken off," he bluntly states as he rests his lower back against the counter.

his heart swells, emanates flurries of golden sparks when he meets your gorgeous irises. the will to carry on with his decision crumbles when he catches the corner of your mouth tick into a slight grin.

"I thought about it," you reply casually, loosening your grip to place your palms flat on the side of his stomach. "but the truth is I'm worried about you and I just…want to talk things out…make sure you're okay...”

“I’m the one acting like a jerk and you’re worried about me?” he blurts.

you quirk your brow at the slip of his question. “so, you know you’re acting like a jerk?”

toji’s eyes widen slightly, a hint of pink tainting his cheek. “I asked the question first.”

you purse your lips playfully, aware of the crack that's been revealed and ready to swing once again with another blow.

“it’s because you’re acting like a jerk that I’m worried about you,” you explain, “you’re not yourself when you’re unsettled about something…”

his face warms, the hue of pink deepening into a stronger blush. the familiarity of pointing out his personal traits feels all too homely. seven months shouldn’t feel like a forever but in this bubble with you time ceases to exist.

you trail the pads of your finger tips up his torso, your hands clasping around the back of his neck as you press all your soft and sweet parts right up against the frame of his body.

the brush of your lips on his scar prompts him to flutter his eyes close. he fails to stop himself from holding you then, his firm hands reaching for the outline of your waist

“so,” you murmur with a tempting kiss as you return to your question, “you know you’re acting like a jerk then?”

please don’t make me say it, he thinks, please don’t make me unravel right in front of your eyes.

he squeezes your side, whispering a defeated “listen…”

“did I do something wrong?” you question, a hint of pain laced through every vowel which only makes his heart ache further. “did something happen?”

toji shakes his head.

“it’s not you,” he grumbles. “look, you asked me a couple of weeks ago if this thing between us was serious and…it shouldn’t be.”

you narrow your gaze, tilting your head with adorable confusion that makes toji want to kiss you right there on the spot.

he can feel you pluck at the fabric of his sweater nervously, “why not?”

toji drops his head and sighs.

“c’mon, doll, let’s be real. I’ve got nothing to give you other than a good fuck in this shitty apartment. you're better off finding someone else and I don't want to waste your time”

you press your mouth into a firm line. “your behavior…” you reply, nipping your bottom lip slightly as you gather your thoughts. “are you acting like this because you…want to end things with me?”

toji has never felt smaller. you’ve reduced him into a shriveled pea rolling around his scuffed up boot. “look, it’s better this way, alright?” he admits with a raise of his head, still refusing to outwardly say what you easily deduced. “it's better to move on before things get too complicated…”

the silence hangs heavy in the air, the tension so thick toji feels like he can’t breathe properly. his heart rattles with no restraint, and he finds himself suddenly lightheaded. an apology rests on the tip of his tongue, ready to take back everything he just bombarded you with but his throat simply tightens once more when your hands cradle his strong jaw.

“I like your apartment,” you quietly speak, “your bed sheets always smell so good, and you fixed the water pressure after I complained that it sucked…”

toji blinks back his surprise.

“I also notice that you burn the candle that I got you and that you switched laundry detergents when your old one gave me that weird rash,” you giggle and toji couldn’t help but huff out an embarrassed laugh himself. “the windows let in the best kind of sunlight, and it’s always so cozy in here…”

you press your lips against his mouth to leave a chaste kiss, “as for the company…” you add on, nuzzling the tip of your nose over his, “I consider you more than just a good fuck.”

toji can physically feel himself wilting underneath the heat of your gaze. “I’m just looking out for you, doll.”

"you can look out for me by making me breakfast instead of running away from me..."

he looks serious but his eyes are sincere, holding a level of tenderness that he only reserves for you. his palm moves to seek out your lower back, a hint of pressure pulling you back into his warmth.

your lover has stayed tight lipped about his past, but over his period with you he's found himself spilling out a few secrets here and there.

"I haven't done this in a long time," he vulnerably admits.

"I know," you reassure him, "but...the real question is, do you want this?"

he parts his lips ready to seal the last nail in the coffin, ready to give you the chance to walk out of his life for good. but you're gazing up at him from underneath your eyelashes, your determined stare an opening of your own mercy. your plush, supple lips summoning his cowardice into oblivion.

"toji?"

his breath hitches, his apprehension silenced by the urgency of his desire.

you're so lovely, he thinks. you feel like home.

"I want you," he reveals, his deep voice smoky and untethered, releasing enough sentiment in those three words that he can feel you tremble in his arms. "I just don't deserve you. I don't want you getting caught up in my bullshit..."

""you're a lot sweeter than you look, you know?" you run your fingers through the streaks of his black hair, combing it back to reveal his forehead. "you deserve to be happy, toji, and...and I think I can make you happy..."

your aura beams with delight when he flashes you a wolfish grin in return. a smile you've grown to adore so deeply. his apology comes in the form of a kiss, one that's gentle and slow. a stroke of fire burns up the back of your neck, making you quiver in places when he glides his tongue across yours. you hum softly into his lips while he releases a content sigh, the barrier he's been keeping up turns to ashes beneath your feet.

[kitsune-oji]

I just read what it'd be like to be Dia's spouse, could you do something similar for Mammon please?🥺👉👈

Married to Mammon

With pleasure, my friend! ♡ though tbh some of these also apply to when you're just in a relationship with him too, without being married

Mammon x gn! Mc (you/yours)

What would your life look like as Mammon's spouse?

You're literally married to your best friend, but in the best way possible

Mammon is awed every day when he realises that he's married to you, like he's actually your husband!!! The fact you love him is so miraculous to him, it's amazing

Wealth finds you in abundance, though not all of it is money. Your wealthy in love and happiness too and you're not doubting for one second that it's because of Mammon('s influence)

The places he frequents to gamble at all know you by name and point you towards him the second you walk through the door. He will ask you every time if you'll blow on his dice for good luck... It's on you if you indulge him or not

So you still live in the House of Lamentation with him and all his brothers? Most likely, because it's just much easier and cheaper and as dysfunctional as their relationships are, Mammon would miss them all way too much... At least after a while

On more than one occasion you catch Mammon bragging about being married to you and proudly showing off his ring. No, it's not that one or the other, it's on his Ring Finger, you dingus (cue him hitting the other demon upside the head)

Whenever Mammon gets his paycheck from his modeling job, he's always trying to do smth with you or get a present for you, just anything to make you happy and show you how much he loves you because he does and he can't believe that you reciprocate his feelings but he definitely doesn't want that to change, ever! So he's gotta keep you happy!

Talking of his modeling job, Mammon invited you to come watch him a few times and (if you went) after a while the whole set knew you, even if maybe they hadn't seen you yet. Hell, Mammon talks about you so much that they feel like they actually know you already before ever seeing you, let alone talking to you.

They let you in to watch his gigs if you want to stop by and watching your chemistry, the photographer asks you to join him in a few pictures and if you're up for it and like it, you may find yourself on and in some magazines in the future...

Since he doesn't have a last name, Mammon will take on yours....and he beams whenever someone calls him Mr. (___)

The crows know you and the demons know you too

The crows see you as a very important person they have to protect and they wanna make you happy too, so they bring you things you may like. With time they also learn what makes you the happiest and frequently get that instead of other things

The demons on the other hand know you as Mammon's Partner, as part of his family and even the dumbest demon who would otherwise look down on Mammon because he's too soft, won't mess with you. Because if they did, everyone knows that Mammon ruin not only their career, but their face (or body depending on the severity of the offence) and their life as well ♡

[rubyvhs]

remedy (viii) — sam winchester

> prev, masterlist

summary: you find sam ten years later, or he finds you, and things change forever— tags: major character deaths, 70% angst, i broke my own heart, case-fic, grieving, mourning, slow burn, praying, very long 13k, though it’s extremely fast paced. general surgeon!fem!reader.

ten years later

“Hey, Miss Moseley,” you call out as the older woman smiles at you and Emmy, it’s the same warm gesture every end of the week as you and your daughter pick up the groceries.

“Hey, sugar. How’s my little angel?” She leans down to kiss your daughter's head, seeing as you’d made it clear to every living, breathing person that no one gets to kiss her anywhere but there. “Oh and how’s Mark? I heard about the promotion he got, that’s wonderful, truly.”

It was unexpected, but yes, your husband got the biggest promotion of his career working at the law firm in town. Obviously you’ve never been prouder (except maybe when your oldest said ‘mama’ first) but it has been with its ups and downs. He stays later nights and it’s a lot more pressure, though now you don’t exactly live paycheck by paycheck, even if you haven’t been doing that anyways, but now you really don’t and you’re grateful. 

“He’s great, thank you. You heard right, I'm proud of his hard work.” She shakes her hand around as if to tell you ‘who cares’ and you know the woman well enough to guess what she’s about to say next.

“And the pay?” Yeah, you were right.

“We’re grateful, Miss Moseley. Thank you for checking in.” You reply politely as the last of her things are ringed up and the cashier shops her away. She kisses your cheek as a goodbye as you ring your things up.

“She means well, you know.” The eighteen year old says from behind the counter and you can’t help but laugh. Not exactly at her, but, you know.

“Of course she does, Missouri is a sweetheart, we’re just not too sure about things ourselves. How are you doing in your senior year?” You deflect.

“‘M okay. Just passed my English final and Maths— Biology and Chemistry are what's left.” She replies, waving to Emmy. She laughs, waving back with an enthusiasm she saves especially for teenage girls. “Hopefully I can actually graduate this year.”

“You will, sweetheart,” you reassure, the nickname coming easy to you. It always did. “I’m sure of it. Call me anytime, okay?” She nods with a smile, handing you back your card and you carry the bags to the car. 

Emmy’s holding onto your blue dress, with little white flowers all over it, the one you like to wear most of the time considering how hot it’s been getting. Though your older daughter doesn’t mind the heat (for whatever unholy reason), the rest of you are minding it a whole damn lot, you begged Mark to let you change practically your entire closet and he hadn’t argued much. 

When the bags are in the trunk you strap Emmy in the back and turn on a country playlist Mark had made you a while ago. Though when you listen to it it reminds you of your days in Stanford. 

As you park your jeep, you can feel your throat constrict and the tip of your nose redden. It’s hard not to notice the shiny black impala in your drive way. And it is there. Just there. Who put it there? Why would the universe torture you like this? What the hell even kind of joke is this—

“Mommy?” Emmy whines out, clearly starting to feel the effect of the heat with the A/C working only halfway. 

“Yeah, baby.”

“Wanna show Daddy.” She says as she waves her iPad to show you the drawing she made. You should, in fact, go inside. And find out what the hell he’s doing in your house. 

When you take Emmy’s hand it takes everything in you to control your breathing. You’ve been better than when you were in college. It had been— a rough couple of years to say the least, but you powered through them with a determination you didn’t know you had in you. Then you started your internship and found Mark, you had dated for a year before he proposed and of course you had said yes. Now, he’s coming back and he’ll— God, you just know that he’s going to ruin everything you’ve worked so hard to bring together. 

Emmy runs through the door and straight to her dad with a yell. “Baby, no shouting.” You lecture loosely, shutting the door behind you as the three men in your living room stand up to greet you, Emmy already forgetting about her drawing and running up to her room.

And that’s when you decide how you should approach it. It’s the only way nothing will turn sour. “Hey, what’s wrong?” You eye your husband, leaning in to kiss his cheek. You haven’t even looked at them yet but their presence is all consuming that you actually gulp before Mark puts a hand in your back so you’re facing them.

You find his eyes first. And it looks like he hasn’t taken his eyes off of you the entire time. You don’t hear a single damn thing your husband is saying because you and Sam are staring into the other’s eyes in a way that makes you think you may be cheating right in front of him. 

Sam’s changed so drastically that it brings you to a violent halt. His hair’s the first thing you notice, it’s grown to just above his shoulder, and it’s tamer, no more of that shaggy haircut he had ruffled everywhere. It fits him with the black suit he has on, that and his height. You’ve grown maybe an inch, he looks so much taller. Maybe you’re imagining it, maybe he just looks that good, either way, it’s mesmerizing.

When Mark says your name twice you snap out of it, shaking your head with a hum.

“Agents Plant and Page.” Agents who the fuck now?

“Excuse me— what?” Your husband narrows his eyes at you, but when you don’t budge he lets out a small awkward laugh. 

“I’m sorry, agents, it’s the heat, really bad this week and she gets these migraines.”

Sam nods, completely professional and understanding as he talks to your husband, “We understand. I know how migraines can be,” yeah, ‘cause you used to have them, “it’s no problem. We should get going, we’ve already taken up too much of your time.”

“Oh. I thought you said you wanted to talk to my wife. I can go get the bags from the car, leave y’all to it.”

“That’s really not—”

Dean doesn’t hesitate to cut Sam off, “Yes, that would be good. Thank you.”

Mark kisses your lips this time and you’re stunned for a second before kissing back, but it’s brief and he nods at the gentlemen in politeness before leaving. You’re left with both of them. “Dean,” You announce shakily, “Sam.” 

“Hey, sweetheart.” Dean smiles, like it’s nostalgic to see you, and you suppose it is. You’re not angry with either of them, especially not Dean. Despite his flirty nature, he hadn’t been rude to you and he’d respected you every time you met him. He moves past the coffee table to take your hand but you, to your absolute fucking surprise, pull him in for a hug. 

Dean’s grown up too. He looks it, his voice is way lower, his stubble and those damn suits they're both wearing. He lets out a laugh, hugging back. “Haven't seen you in ages.” 

“Yeah,” he sighs, releasing your grip to place a quick kiss in your hair. When he moves away, Sam’s standing behind him. He looks— all 6 foot something of him— awkward and unsure and it might be the most heartbreaking thing you’ve seen. Sam’s changed in appearance, he’s grown up, sure, but at Stanford he was confident. He wasn’t cocky but he knew his stuff and didn’t back down, this Sam’s curling up into himself the second you came in the room (or when you first bothered to look at him anyway). 

“Hey, Sam.” You smile, repeating the same gesture you had with Dean, except it’s different, so so different with him. His hand’s on your waist, yours wrapped around his neck. The same way you hug everyone else. Then why does his embrace feel more intimate? And his cologne, God. 

He pulls away a few seconds later (maybe, who know, it could have been hours). 

“We didn’t know—”

“Yeah, I figured as much with the whole agents thing.” You’re not stupid, you’ve seen the news, Dean and Sam are wanted in some states, for a long list that you never bothered checking for the sole reason that you never thought you’d see them and you had such an exceptional picture of them in your head that you didn’t want to ruin it.

But the truth is, you also don’t believe that they would do it. Sam and Dean wanted for theft? Murder? you don’t buy it. Sam had told you how dangerous his job was, you know it has to come with consequences. 

“So why are you here?”

“We’re investigating something.” You frown. No animal attacks here as far as you know.

“Investigating what?”

“There was a girl. She died in the neighborhood last year, Carla.” 

Your face falls and you cross your arms in front of your chest. “Get out.” Dean’s eyes widen, clearly taken aback by your sudden change in tone. “Get out, both of you.”

“Hey—”

“No, you’re joking. You came in here to ask my husband about his dead niece. And you made him think you’re fucking FBI, which is illegal by the way, Mr. Stanford Lawyer. And for what? Is this all just for fun?” You’re praying your voice doesn’t get too loud but you can’t help the pit of anger in your stomach. They can’t do this. They can’t.

“That’s not what we’re doing,” Sam speaks up, his eyebrows furrowed together. Sam speaks in a much lower tone than he did in Stanford. It’s less urgent, more patient and understanding. He’s listening more than he is talking. It’s a noticeable change from the man you once knew, “we’re trying to find out what happened to her, I swear. We’re here to help.”

“Well, sorry to break it to you, but there haven’t been any animals around lately so this isn’t up your alley— which by the way, fuck you both.” You don’t remember ever being this immature but damn it, do the Winchesters get a ride out of you. “You’re both lying to my husband and expect me to do what? Welcome you with open arms?” The fact that you did goes unsaid.

There’s a deadly kind of silence that overcomes the three of you. You’re waiting for an explanation, they’re looking at each other like they don’t want to give one, and your oldest daughter just woke up from her nap and is walking down the stairs. She’s on the last step, rubbing the sleep from her eyes when she notices the two big men in suits and frowns. “Mommy…” she mumbles, clearly ready to go back upstairs.

At least the kid has good instincts. “Hey, sweetheart.” You smile slightly, leaving both of them in the living room to walk over to her, kneeling down. “What’s wrong? Why are you up?”

“Sound. Where’s daddy?”

“Outside. You wanna go and play with Emmy or are you gonna go back to sleep?” She shrugs, looks back at Sam and Dean then you, questions written all over her pretty little face. “Those are the police, they’re trying to help us. It’s okay, you can go back upstairs and I’ll bring you a snack, okay?” She nods and you get up, kiss her head, and let her run back upstairs.

When you face them, not moving closer, they both get the message. You want to say it’s easy, watching them walk to the front door, kicking them out, losing Sam again. But it isn’t. And you can’t help what you do next. 

“Sam,” it’s just his name. That’s all you said, but God, you can practically feel how tense he just got, standing in place. He looks at Dean who nods in understanding and walks out of the house. Sam faces you, you’re closer than you think you should be.

“I never wanted to hurt you. Or Mark. And— Dean and I, we had no idea this was your house or that she was your niece—”

“Mark’s niece.”

“Right. We didn’t know. We asked around and they gave us Mark's last name, we thought it was a coincidence. And there’s no pictures—”

“I don’t like hanging pictures in the house.” You cut him off, not sure why you’re confessing like it’s a sin, but the need to explain yourself to Sam has apparently not gone away completely. He nods in understanding and sighs. “I didn’t mean to kick you guys out, I just hate how much you’ve lied to me, and I don’t even know why, I don’t even know what it’s about.”

He slips up, “Baby, I wish I could tell you—”

“You don’t get to call me that.” Maybe it’s Stanford all over again. Have you really grown up? Have you really changed for the better? Will you ever be able to let go of Sam? You haven’t thought about him for a long time, but seeing him in front of you— in fact you haven’t thought of him since you two broke up. Maybe you’re not mentally ready for this.

But more than that, you’re not letting anyone get between you and your husband.

“I know.” He groans, rubbing a hand over his face, “I know. I’m sorry.” 

“Yeah, me too. I hope you guys find out what happened with Carla.” 

Sam’s about to say something. A rebuttal, probably. Maybe then you can both have an actual conversation. But he decides against it and opens the door, walking out. 

Wouldn’t be the first time.

You see him nod at Mark and Dean end the conversation with your husband to get back in the impala. You watch them drive off before shutting your eyes, grounding yourself. You need to calm down. Obviously, you told Mark that you talked to someone before, and had a brief relationship with them, it wasn’t a secret, but you don’t think he knows that it’s the same guy who just pretended to be FBI and talked to him about his niece. 

“What did they ask about?” Your husband asks as he gets inside, Emmy on his right while he's holding two hands full of groceries. 

“Carla. You didn’t tell them she was your niece?” Now that you notice it, they were surprised to find out Carla's in any way related to you and Mark. He shrugs and moves to the kitchen but you follow him with a frown. “Why?”

“‘Cause they wouldn't take it seriously. The police thought I was overreacting since we were related but the FBI actually listened, and they believed me. I don’t want them to think emotions are taking over.” And the mocking way he says the word makes your heart clench.

You fell in love with Mark pretty quickly— or, he fell in love with you. And you eventually did too, with the sweet gestures and the kind comments, he was an incredible man, an even better husband that you’re proud to call yours. But he also had some issues, and trouble when it came to his family. While you guys do live in the same neighborhood as them, he doesn't like them. And for good reason, they're assholes. But he does love them.

He isn’t actually an ‘emotional guy’ and to label him as such— well, Mark is old-school. He won’t do well with that. His manhood and all that— and you’re not even saying it in a condescending way, you know how he was raised, it’s the one thing he’ll never back down from. But he’s been so good to you over the past five years, you’ve had your ups and downs, of course you did, but you couldn’t think of a better husband.

Can you? Can you think of someone you’d love more and want to spend the rest of your life with more than Mark? The man who traveled all the way back to your home country to ask your father for your hand in marriage? 

“I’m— I’ll get started on dinner. They seem like good people, and they’re looking into it.” You smile slightly, leaning up to give him a quick kiss, putting the groceries away, your oldest daughter has come down to even help you and spend time with Emmy.

And maybe you shouldn’t. Maybe you should just take it to the grave, but God, you can’t help but call Gen’s number when it’s ten and you’re on your couch all alone. Mark is out with friends, your kids are in their room and you can’t stop yourself from calling a number you’d left abandoned for a year. An entire year. 

It rings once. Twice. And when you hear her voice through the speaker you bite back tears. “Hello?”

“Hey— hey, Gen.” A relieved sort of laugh comes from the other line and it eases you into the conversation if only a little.

“Hi, sweetie. I haven’t heard from you in a while, how are Mark and the kids?” You were ready for an argument, and maybe that’s why you called in the first place, to get what’s been coming for you. You deserve it after you abandoned her when she needed you the most. You didn’t expect this. You didn’t expect normal with Gen. You don’t deserve it.

“Yeah. They’re okay. How about you and Rue?” As if the universe wanted to make a point, Rue, you guess, stole her mother’s phone from her hand and ran around with it, asking you how you’re doing and that she misses you. Rue’s almost six, but she’s as much of a troublemaker as she was at four.

“Rue’s fine!” She yells across the room, then she takes the phone and you can hear her better. “She’s great, just got into fifth grade, actually.” 

You smile, the tears running down your cheeks without your consent. “That’s— great, Gen.”

She picks up on the crack in your voice and sighs. “Sweetie. Why’d you call now? What’s going on?”

“Nothing. Nothing, I feel so bad I haven’t called and I promise, I’m so sorry, Gen. You know I love her and I didn’t mean to do this.” you cut yourself off, scared you’re talking over her, but she doesn’t speak, letting you continue. “And I miss you and my little niece. I miss Rue and the kids, of course, they also miss her and I’ve been such a—”

“Nuh, uh. None of that here. You were grieving.”

You scoff, a hand slapping the tears away. “No, you were grieving.”

“Jess was as much of my girlfriend as she was your best friend. I’ve known her longer, but she was always your soulmate, and I never, for a second, held that against you.” It hurts knowing that what she’s saying is true. You don’t want to believe her because what have you done for her to love you this way? Unconditionally.

“I know. I wanted to be there for you but I couldn’t even say her name and I’m, I’m so scared. Even now, I’m always so scared, and I think about her all the time.”

“I think about her too…” you want to say you’re imagining the crack in her voice, that it’s a slip up that means nothing. But truthfully, Gen’s only ever cried with you. She’s not close to her parents and despite her multitude of friends, most of them had drifted after college. Not the three of you. Not you, Jess and Gen. 

You wish you could say it stayed the same after Jess passed away, but you did leave her. and you can’t find it in yourself to say that you’d do it differently. Because you used your grief to be a good mother this past year, you spent so much time with the kids. Even with Carla gone too. You and Mark kept it together.

You’re not sure how seeing Sam broke you the most of the events.

“She loves you. I think— we just have to remember her love, right?” Gen sniffles and you imagine her nodding her head, a hand running through her hair like she usually is when she’s sad.

“Yeah. Yeah, sweetie, but—” Gen breathes heavily through her nose. “But why’d you call? You haven’t— it’s been a year, what’s going on?” 

“I, uh, saw someone. Today.”

“Who?”

“Sam Winchester.” 

“The criminal?”

Explaining to Gen about Sam pretending to be FBI and how he came to ‘investigate’ Carla’s death after being ‘wanted’ in a few states almost gives her a heart attack. You want to share her worry about the safety of your family when he’s in proximity, but Sam looked all but broken when he was standing at your doorstep. 

“So I kind of threw them out and now they’re giving Mark hope again that they’ll find out what happened, but just— it sucks. He’s such a liar and I had no idea.” 

“Yeah, but, maybe you should report it to the police, you know?”

You frown, shaking your head. “Police? He isn’t even wanted in here. I think it’s in… I don’t know Tennessee?”

“Still. He could be dangerous and he knows where you live now.” You aren’t sure what to think. Is she right? Is Sam dangerous? He doesn’t look it. 

“Sure. Sure, Gen, I’ll see what I can do. I just, wanted to talk to you and maybe see if we can go out, you know? If you want, if you’re free.” 

“Yeah. Of course. Next Friday? We can go to Lilo’s Diner, if you want.“ Before Jess passed away when you got married, you couldn’t help but find an apartment next to here’s and Gen’s. In hindsight, it was an impulsive decision since Mark told you to choose the location, but you couldn’t help wanting to be next to her. But the real kicker was that before you settled down, you had completely forgotten that where you are right now, Lawrence, Kansas, is Sam’s hometown. 

“Yeah. That’s good, I don’t mind.” You both say your goodbye’s, and it’s a little tear-filled, but it gets the job done. 

You’re not completely convinced that you’ll give Sam in, but you know you need to consider it. If your daughters are ever in danger… you don’t know you’d do. You sigh, getting up and dimming the lights. “God, I wish you could— I need help.” You’re done crying, you just need help, “just— please, i wish I could just— I love him but I don’t even know if he’s it for me, I wish I could think without him in the picture, fuck.”

And if cursing while trying to pray isn’t message enough for you to just go to bed, you don’t know what is.

“Mommy? Mommy!” You stir from your sleep. It’s been forced upon you to be a light sleeper since you’ve had your kids, and one of them shouting your name alerts you. 

Emmy’s jumping on your chest, “Door. Mommy, door.” You groan, running a hand through your untamed hair and getting up groggily. At least she’s in a good mood for whatever reason.

You put on a shirt that you haven’t crumpled in your sleep and take a hair tie with you downstairs as you attempt to make it look decent, swinging the door open before you can ask who it is. 

Oh. “Sam?”

“Good morning.” There’s no Dean this time, just Sam. Just very tall and intimidating Sam looking at your with the most innocent look you’ve ever seen but you still can’t help clutching your daughter to your leg, mumbling about her going upstairs but she doesn’t listen. “I— I’m sorry, I came to tell you about… Mark.”

Your eyes widen, shaking your head in question and confusion because mark is upstairs, right? He’s in your bed, right next to you. You just hadn’t checked, that’s all. “What about him? He’s fine.”

Sam frowns, loosening his tie. Maybe you should loosen the collar around your neck. Where is Mark? He was just out with friends last night and you’d gone to sleep after praying, you must’ve missed his call telling you he’ll spend the night elsewhere. Except he’s never done that. Mark’s never spent the night anywhere other than right next to you since you’ve gotten married.

But it’s fine, you’re overreacting and Sam is here to tell you Mark was found drunk or something. He won’t get arrested. You need him. His kids need him. “Hey, hey, you with me? Mark’s— I’m so sorry. I’m sorry.” 

“What do you mean?” You’re out of breath even if you’ve just gotten out of bed, “what do you mean you’re sorry? What did you do? Where is he?”

Emmy’s tugging on your pants, even if you can hardly feel it, but you do feel Sam stepping into your house, his hands moving closer before you flinch a way from his touch, in a result Emmy’s hands is forced away from your leg. You apologize to your little girl, leaning down to scoop her in your arms. 

“Mark’s—”

“Shut up, Sam. Stop it. Where is he?”

You can see his heart breaking, you can feel it. Maybe from his eyes alone, even. But it doesn’t even register to you, because why is he sad? What does he have to be upset about? 

“They can’t find him. He’s… gone.”

“Gone where? Is he at work? It’s— only eight or something—”

“It’s eleven.” Your breath hitches and you shake your head. What does that even mean coming from a liar? Sam’s nothing but a liar, he always has been he’s— 

“Where are the police?” he says your name, soft and you shout, “Where are the police?” Your daughter flinches at your tone and cuddles her head into your chest. “Don’t— I’ll report you. You and Dean, if you don’t tell me what you did. What did you do?”

It’s futile. They didn’t do anything. Deep down you know that. 

But you’re not sure if you can listen to ‘deep down’ when your husband is not next to you. Calming and comforting you. 

“Sam,” you breathe, putting her down, “Sam, where is he?” He doesn’t step closer, brushes a hand down his face, “Sam.” You try, one last time before you’re sobbing, hitting at his chest. “Where is he? Where is— Mark, where is he! Sam!” 

He doesn’t respond. He doesn’t tell you that everything will be okay and that Mark’s only gone for the day. He holds your body close to his and you bury your head into his chest, your tears wet against your face as you fist your hands in his shirt. Your eyes burn, they’re hard to open. Maybe it’s for the best. 

Your world doesn’t spin often, but when it does, you have Mark. You quit your first job, Mark’s there. You’re low on money, Mark’s there. Your kids seem like they hate you, he’s by your side.

What are you supposed to do now? What are you supposed to do other than pray for him back?

Because you did this. You prayed yesterday and now look what happened, he’s gone. Just like you wished for, even if you’d don’t really mean it then. You mean it now, to have him back.

Sam lets go of you eventually, to get you a glass of water and coax your daughter into her room. You’re not sure what the time is, just that your eyes couldn’t get more swollen if you tried, and you will. 

“Here.” He hands you a cup and you don’t look up at him as he takes the seat next to you again making you briefly wonder if you’re having an out of body experience. You could be. You must be. 

“I should call the police.” You say through sniffles and Sam sighs. “You should… go, I guess. Since you’re not real police.”

“I’ll stay. We talked to them anyways and they think we’re FBI so— ”

“But I’ll tell them.” It’s low. Defeated. Sam doesn’t speak for a second and you don’t want to imagine the look on his face. You can’t. “Just go.”

His scoff shouldn’t be as comforting as it is. “No. You’re not pushing me away when you need me.” He tilts your head up, his finger hooking under your chin, “I’m not leaving you again. Never again.”

“It’s— it’s not like that, right now. Sam, go.”

“Tell them. Call the police, make them come here, and tell them I’m not FBI, tell them my real name, I don’t care, they can arrest me when I know you’re okay.” 

Is it fair to say you never want to be okay if it means Sam leaving? “My kids.” You whisper, as a thought. Something you put out there. 

“Dean can take care of them if you want us to go to the police.” You nod, touching your cheek to check if you’re still crying. Your eyes are so raw you can’t even tell at this point. Sam takes his phone out to call Dean but you hold his wrist. 

“Gen. Call Gen.” He gapes in surprise, is about to argue, but seems to see something on your face because he pulls up her number from your phone. You think she’s not going to respond as the phone starts to run out of rings but when she finally does you collapse with a sigh, one hand on your heart, the other holding Sam’s arm in support. And you’re fucking sat down.

“Gen. Hey, it’s Sam. Sam Winchester.” Shit. Shit. She doesn’t like Sam. Shit. “Yeah— oh. Yeah, she threatened already. Look, Mark’s gone and we can’t find him, she’s asking if you can come over and watch her kids.”

You don’t hear the conversation. You don’t hear except white static as you leave Sam on the couch and go to your kids’ room. Your oldest is on her IPad. The youngest is playing with her blocks. They both look at you expectantly for food and you give them a watery smile. “Aunt Gen is coming over. She’ll get you breakfast, okay?”

They both seem pleased, but your oldest isn’t stupid. She’s only four but Mark had been gifted as a child. Not enough to skip grades, but he was intelligent, both emotionally and academically. And apparently your oldest has inherited that because she walks up to you with a smile.

“You’re okay, Mommy.” You’re not sure if it’s a question or not but you wipe your face in case it’s showing anything other than that fact. “We will have fun with Genny.”

“No, baby, I’m going somewhere and then we’ll have fun with Genny, but you’re staying alone first.”

“I will take care of Emmy.” Your heart clenches as you nod quickly, taking her in for a hug so she doesn’t see the tears. 

“Good job, Jess.” Even saying her name. She’s your daughter, she isn’t even really Jess but saying her name… you can’t do this right now.

When you get back down dressed for the station, Sam’s in the kitchen cooking. “I’m dressed. we should go.”

He looks back to see you are, in fact, dressed. He hands you a cup of water, “drink this and we’ll go.”

You frown but oblige anyway. You’re a doctor, it isn’t hard to tell what he’s doing, with the amount of tears you’ve cried, you’d think you’re dehydrated too. “I’ll text Gen that there’s omelets. She can make sandwiches when she’s here.”

You acknowledge the words, handing him the cup. He locks the door behind him just as Gen parks her car and it’s the calmest you’ve felt all morning. At least your kids will be safe. You give her a hug that lasts about two seconds then walk to the Impala as fast as you can, certain you won’t be driving in this condition.

The police station is a whirlwind of screaming and yelling. No one’s telling you enough, you need to know now, and you might have accidentally called Sam his real name once, though you’re hoping no one caught it. Four hours later you’re crying and shaking your head in the lobby. 

The lady at the desk tries to calm you down while Sam talks to them inside, “Please, Miss, you need to remain calm while we—”

“My husband is gone, just off the face of the earth, how the fuck does that happen?”

“We’re not sure.” You look back hoping it’s Sam but find an older looking guy. Darker skin and maybe even a little taller than Sam? Though that must be impossible, they could be the same height. “His friends all say he was on his way home the last time they saw him and we found his car by a neighborhood next to yours but it was parked. He could have just went somewhere else.”

“I called him a thousand times on my way here and Mark never spends the night out of the house.”

“Have you considered a different possibility?” He asks, taking a step closer and you suddenly get intimidated by the demeanor if not his height, “maybe he did it on purpose. To spend the night somewhere else.”

“What on Earth is wrong with you? Are you all really that bad at your job that the only excuse you can come up with is him cheating? Who the hell gives you the right to—”

“We’re merely covering all our basis.”

“No you’re a bunch of—” Someone clears their throat so loudly it makes you jump. Jump right into their arms— into Sam’s arms.

“She’s worked up, considering.” The police, whoever the fuck that man is nods understandably and you’re ready to elbow Sam as you stare daggers at the one in front of you. “But she doesn’t make a point. It’s not likely Mister Davis is having an affair,” he moves your body out of the way to stand toe-to-toe with the man, “and even if he is, do you think it’s smart to threaten his wife with it?”

“Threaten? You’ve got it wrong, Agent.”

“Please don’t speak to Misses Davis again, it’s clear you can’t handle this case.” Sam places both hands on your shoulders to walk you out of the station and when you’re finally alone you slap his hands away. 

“What the hell? What about Mark—”

“They don’t have anything on him. We called everyone, we tried to track his phone but it’ll take a while. Me and Dean tried tracking it before I came over anyway and we couldn’t find it, they won’t have better luck. They usually put them in warehouses so I told them to check all the ones in the area. Dean is on it too. Look, we need to talk.” 

“Warehouse— what? Does now seem like the time for talking?” You scold. Even Sam's speaking in code.

“Did you… wish for something yesterday?”

Your heart slows. “Like what?”

“Like… wanting him gone.”

Your heart stops.

You tend to run things over in your head a lot.

“Mark? Mark, come back in, the kids don’t need—”

“No way. If my angel says she needs a cookie, we’re getting her a cookie.” You sigh affectionately, a smile threatening to split your face open. He’s been so good since you’ve gotten married, but you thought that would all stop the second you told him you’re pregnant. It couldn’t be further from the truth. He’s been more engaged, beautiful with your kids, even years later. 

He’s the best father you could have dreamed of. He’s a damn good husband too, but Mark is… complicated. His family is complicated. He grew up in such a toxic environment that during the first year of dating him, he’d cursed you out in front of his entire family. You got married anyways, he’s a good man, and you know he is. He’s changing slowly, trying to better himself because he has you. 

And it isn’t even something he’s just ‘saying’, you know that because now? Four years later, Mark would eat up anyone in his family that says one word about you, whether it be one of his sisters or one of his brothers’ wives.

Two hours later Mark comes back with Jess and two boxes of cookies. When you put Jess to bed he hands you a box of your favorite chocolate, the expensive kind. And it isn’t like you’re broke, you’re doing okay to spoil yourselves every once in a while, but you’re also saving up for when the kids grow up since you know they’ll be more demanding than they are now. So while it didn’t put a dent in anything, it was unnecessary. But he did it. He did it and he kissed you and you’re pretty sure that was the night Emmy came into your lives. Or would be coming in nine months.

Sometimes you wish you could stop ruining things over in your head.

“Come back to me, fuck, come back.” Sam’s saying your name over and over as your eyes flutter open. “Can you hear me?” 

“Yeah.” You groan, a hand coming up to touch your head before he stops you. “What happened?”

“You blacked out and fell on the concrete. They did an X-ray, it came back okay but you’re not eating enough. Don’t touch your head though.”

“Why?” you reply stubbornly though you're grateful he cared enough to get you to the emergency room as fake FBI. Speaking of, you guys should probably head out. “Doesn't matter, let's go home. I'll pay the—”

“I already paid, let's go.” you frown as he helps you up. Thankfully, you don't need any assistance walking, not that Sam gets the message, his hand on your lower back as he nods at the receptionist.

The car ride is as silent as you expected it to be with your multitude of questions. About Mark, Sam, your kids. About everything. The most important one is where the hell is Mark, but every time you think of that you're back to crying. The second is where did Sam get the money to cover your bill? Seeing as he's not a lawyer or anything. 

“You okay?” He asks, giving you a glance before his eyes are back on the road. He must realize how stupid the question is because he follows it up with: “We’re going to find him. I promise.”

“Yeah.”

“Dean’s already—”

“How? How are you and Dean— I don’t even know if Dean went to college,” no offense, he just doesn’t look the type, “and you all but dropped out of law. On what earth will the two of you find my husband?”

“Look—”

“Real answers!” You scream, slamming your hand down on your leg, the friction from your jeans sting as you take it back. “Real answers Sam, or I swear God…”

He sighs, parking on the side of the road. “You won’t believe me.”

“Try me.”

“You passed out.”

“Try me, because my husband is missing and I left my kids with Gen who I haven’t seen in almost a year and now I’m sitting next to Sam Winchester from Stanford—”

“It’s a curse.”

“What.”

When someone says something is a curse they usually follow it up with trying to sell you some oils for way too high that will ‘break the curse’. But that’s not what Sam is doing. Sam is talking to you like it’s logical. Like he’s sane. He’s telling you, with a straight fucking face, that monsters are real and that after he was born here a witch placed a curse on the town.

He’s not trying to sell you anything except that this is the truth. To him, this is real. And he’s looking at you like you’d be stupid not to believe that a witch placed a curse on an entire town so that whatever someone wishes, it comes true.

You wished for better mental stability everyday but that never came.

“Sam,” you sigh sympathetically, “look, I don’t know what happened before you graduated, but you’re a good man, you should not let—”

“What? No! What I'm telling you is real! Monsters and werewolves, vampires, witches, they’re all real. Now you need to think before you answer, did you wish for anything yesterday? Anything regarding Mark?”

“Wish? Are you— no! Of course not.”

“Please, you need to level with me here. Anything at all.” You should get out of the car, slam the door right in his face, and tell everyone that Sam Winchester— straight A student in Stanford— has officially gone crazy. And you’re witnessing it first hand. 

You don’t end up doing any of that except for slamming the door in his face. That, he deserves. For lying and for finding you and giving you hope about your husband when he’s obviously gone crazy and for making you leave your daughters when you could be with them right now. 

He gets out of the car, and when you glance over at him he looks like he’s going to try and convince you of something again but his eyes widen. When you face whatever it is that he’s staring at— it’s just Missouri.

“Missouri?” He asks, frowning and you start to notice that this is, in fact, his hometown. He probably knows a lot of the older locals. “What are you doing here? I thought we told you to stay inside ‘till we find whoever cursed the town.”

Now you’re really confused. Where on earth does get off playing with an old lady’s head? “I know you did not just call me old, sweetie.” 

What. The. Hell.

“See!” Sam can’t help but let out with a relieved sigh. As if that actually shows anything other than you’re seriously creeped out.

“No reason to be creeped, darling, but Sam’s right. Monsters exist and a witch did curse this godforsaken town.”

“How did you—”

“I’m psychic.” Right. And you’re Beyoncé. 

“I wouldn’t count on it. I heard you sing early in the morning and even the birds couldn’t take it.”

“Rude— and also how the fuck—”

“I can read minds. Though I don’t usually, it seemed like the only way to get you to believe poor Sam. He’s a good man,“ he seems to be getting told that a bunch, “and he only means to help. Him and Dean are hunters.”

Is the sun too hot? Probably, considering it’s the sun. Maybe you should sit in the shade. Or pass out. Passing out sounds better than finishing this conversation. Missouri sighs, a hand on Sam’s cheek. “It was good seeing you, sweetie. Get her home and tell her everything she needs to know. She gets migraines—”

“I know.”

“Good. Get her anything she needs but especially some cold air.” 

“To sum it up,” you gulp down the rest of your cup before facing Sam, “Monsters are real. You’re a hunter. Your dad died, and Dean never went to college?” 

“Sure, I guess. Is that all you got? That’s a very… random  summary.”

“Right but if Dean’s never went to college and Monsters are real, I think the apocalypse starting really doesn’t sound that far-fetched.” Apparently by monsters he also meant Angels. And prophets. And too many things he just told you— like Lucifer and Micheal the archangels and so so so many things. 

He chuckles, refilling your glass. “What is it with the Dean and college thing with you.”

You shrug, taking the cup with a small thanks. You’re probably going to need to go to the bathroom soon with how much he’s been keeping you hydrated. “I don’t know, he seems smart, I’m surprised ‘s all. can we call him and ask what he found yet?”

Sam’s face falls like you slapped him and he sighs. “The wish— I’ll tell you what I think happened, okay?” Not okay. “You wished for Mark to disappear or to go yesterday while he was coming back from the night out and the witch— the way her curse works is that she has demons working for her. Demons chained to this town to do her dirty work for her—”

“Sam, people wish for a million dollars everyday, they don’t actually get it.”

“These are demons, it isn’t ’you wish for something’, you get it. It’s ‘you curse someone out’, they get it.” You didn’t mean to curse him out. You hadn’t even really wished for anything, just prayed. And the praying wasn’t that serious. It wasn’t like you wanted Mark gone, you just wanted answers for whatever’s going on in your heart. “Carla,” Sam runs a hand over his mouth, like it’s paining him to tell you this, to explain to you why your niece died. “A teacher cursed her out in school the day before she was gone.”

No. No, there’s just no fucking way. Missouri is almost eighty something, why on earth would she lie, though?

“Please, I know it’s scary and it’s hard to believe but I need you to trust me. What did you wish for yesterday?”

“I— I don’t even remember—”

“Anything. Anything at all—”

“I wished he was out of the picture.” His breath hitches. Yours almost comes to a stop. “But— I wasn’t wishing, I was praying. I asked— I prayed that I could think clearly without thinking of him. I didn’t want him to go, Sam, I swear—”

His eyes soften as he pulls you to his chest, “I know. I know, sweetheart.” 

Maybe the crying won’t ever stop.

“Dean found the witch. Or at least he thinks. We can’t kill the demons until the witch breaks the chains so I’m going to go help him follow the lead, are you okay to stay alone?” Sam says when he comes back into the room after a short phone call with his brother.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You’re not fine. You’re nowhere near fucking fine. You’re the furthest point away from ‘fine’. But Sam is going to… go kill demons? Play dress up with Dean? Who knows anymore. So you let him go with a goodbye and ’stay safe’. As you close the front door, you give it your back and Jess is standing there with her school book in hand. 

“Where’s Daddy?”

Oh. God. You don’t even— you can’t possibly think of a way to tell your kids their father is gone. The entire time Sam had explained the supernatural thing, not once had he brought up that Mark might still be out there somewhere. 

How do you tell your daughter you killed her father?

“Jess, dad’s out right now. He’s very sick, and we can’t see him ‘till he gets better.” She frowns, tilting her head in question— you’re sure you have no answers to cover it. “but ‘till then, we’ll…”

Maybe you should be holding yourself together a little more for your children. They shouldn’t see you break apart because who will take care of them? But it hits you. You’ve spent the whole day looking for Mark and being so sure he’s out there somewhere that you believed Sam when he said he was taken by a demon.

But the fact of the matter still stands. Mark is gone. Your husband is gone. 

And maybe it shouldn’t hit you so hard when you killed him.

The next four hours go by in a blur. Your kids are fine, they’re drawing and coloring. They’re happy they get to miss school today and you’re pacing the halls, wishing you’d taken up Gen on her offer to stay with you. How did she get through this? How did she get through this alone? 

You haven’t even called your parents, or Mark’s. His siblings. A funeral. This is so real. It’s happening, you’re losing— you lost your husband. He’s gone and you didn’t even get a warning. Where was your warning? 

Maybe you should lay down for a few hours. Your starting to see things move around in the windows.

It’s officially freak-out-hour. Twelve AM. You call Sam twice before he answers.

“I think my house is haunted.” You’ve never found your voice that shaky in your life.

“You what? Are you okay? Are the kids okay?”

“They’re fine. In their room, but the lights keep flickering and I keep seeing something moving.”

“Shit. Do you have salt? A lot of salt?” 

“Some. Enough for food, I haven’t stocked up for a demon battle.”

“Get as much as you can and make a circle. Ghosts can’t cross salt circles.”

“What if it’s a demon?”

“There are— are you sure? Are you sure there’s something? Did you piss anyone off today?”

You think. Hard. “I don’t—” Oh. “The police station guy.”

“No, no. Fuck! Make the circle, get in it, I’m on my way.” He hangs up and the circle comes out uneven and sloppy. You’re shaking so much by the time you’re done you don’t notice it’s only small enough to fit your kids. When you go check on them, they aren’t in their room.

“Jess? Emmy?” Sam’s voice wakes you up from your nap against the hard wall. That’s why your head is pounding. “Hey, hey, where’s mommy?” That’s all you hear before his heavy steps run up the stairs and he finds you in the hallway. 

“Fuck. Are you okay? Are you hurt?” You shake your head, hoping to ease him, though that’s the least of your concerns. “Are they okay? Are Emmy and Jess okay?”

“Yes, yes,” he breathes out, leaning down to engulf you in a surprising hug that you return with no hesitation. You were hallucinating. You never thought you’d be so thankful for hallucinating. “Are you,” he’s shaking. His words anyways, his hands are too still for your liking. “Are you okay? I tried calling but you didn’t answer, and I came here as fast as I could. I thought something happened to you—”

“I haven’t eaten, and I’m so tired—did, did you kill the witch?” You sound crazy. You sound stupid and twelve.

And yet, the second his soft, “Yes.” Is out, you visibly relax in his arms. He’s holding you, your head on his chest, and it’s the calmest you’ve felt in the past twenty four hours.

“Sam?”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“How do I know you’re real? How do I know you’re not… a monster or possessed.”

“Tests,” he sighs. Sam always looked like he wanted to keep his real life away from you, keep you at a distance, so the more you ask, the more he feels a part of him breaking. He wanted better for you. 

“Shapeshifters burn up in contact with silver, like your ring,” he interlaces your fingers together and his skin doesn’t sizzle. “Demons show themselves if you say ‘Christo’.” You look up but there’s nothing. He’s still there. “Ghosts will leave the person they’re possessing if you hit them with rocksalt.” 

“They can possess people?”

“Only really powerful ones.” 

“There should be a crash course on monsters.” You frown, leaning in closer, like maybe you don’t need a crash course. Just him. Just Sam.

He lets out a small laugh, a polite one, but you feel it against your head and it brings you so much relief, you’re scared what you’re going to do when he’s gone.

Because he will be gone. He will go and he’ll leave you and you’ll have to deal with—

“Hey, hey, calm down for me. What’s wrong?”

You take a deep breath, but all it does is run tears down your cheeks, “I have to tell Jess and Emmy. Emmy’s so young and she wouldn’t understand, she’ll just want Daddy, what am I supposed to say, Sam? And Jess… she asked about him. I killed—.”

“No, stop it, don’t. You were thinking. A thought, that’s all. I bet he thought the same thing a hundred times, it’s normal, you’re married, it’s just unfortunate a demon heard yours.”

You’re still scared, that doesn’t really comfort you. You’re sharing your earth with demons. Demons. That came from hell. Which means hell, heaven, they exist and mark is in one of them right now. 

You end up telling your oldest with tears in your eyes and Jess comforts you instead of crying. She’s telling you ‘it’s okay’ and ‘daddy loves you’. And you’re thinking what you did to get such a beautiful and inspiring daughter. She even brushes your hair out of your face like you do for her when she’s crying. 

You tell her the same. Her daddy loved her, and that she should tell you how she feels when she’s decided. Anytime Emmy asks about Mark you tell her he’s up in heaven and she frowns. It’s fine, you didn’t expect her to get it this young anyways, but… it’s unfair that she has to.

The past 48 hours have been hectic to say the least, devastating, too. Sam hasn’t left your side during them. Despite him being tall and somewhat scary if you look at it from a four-year-old‘s point of view, your kids have only asked a couple of questions. You don’t think they noticed that he went from ‘police’ to ‘mommy’s friend’, and you’re grateful. 

Gen ran over to your house the second you called her to tell her what you know. You don’t get into detail, just that Mark’s gone. He’s— God, you can’t even say it, he passed away. What kind of shit term is that anyway? Passed? To where, heaven? Hell? How are you supposed to know? 

Does Sam know? If Sam told you angels are real it must be because he’s met them… right? And he met the archangels, surely he has connections— what are you saying! You’re talking about Sam having connections with God? Who, by the way, Sam didn’t mention.

Gen holds you as you sob into her arms in your own room, Sam sitting with your children. They’re so innocent and fragile, you don’t want them to see you crying incase they think they have to, but the truth is, you’re severely dehydrated and you’re sure you’re losing your job at the hospital since you haven’t called to say you’re not coming in. 

It’s a gut-wrenching 48 hours. Who knows what the next will bring.

When you sober up from the frenzy you’re in, you call your parents, then Mark’s siblings. His father died years ago and his mother has amnesia so that’s one less conversation you have to go through.

You only call his second oldest sister, she cries before you finish your sentence and promises she’ll tell the others. You can’t. You know you can’t. 

Gen tries to talk to you about Sam, you shut her down pretty quick. “Can you take the kids during the funeral?” 

“Sweetie, I should come with you…” You shrug just as Sam makes his way to the kitchen where you’re both talking. Gen shoots him daggers as he walks over to you, hand on both your shoulders. “What—”

“The kids are asleep, I think. Dean needs me back at the motel so I’ll go check on him then come back, does that sound okay?” You nod absentmindedly. All you heard was that Sam’s leaving, and even if every part of your body doesn’t want that, he’s been your rock through all of this, you know you have to let him go. 

“Okay, I’ll see you in an hour.” He places a kiss on your hair that helps you relax, like most of his touches do, and when he leaves the kitchen, Gen is right on his heel.

You hear them raise their voice and argue before he leaves. All you can think is that you hope the kids don’t wake up.

You hope you wake up from this nightmare.

Who decided black was a good color for funerals? It’s so… depressing. As if you all aren’t already dispiriting the entire house with your tears, now you’re all blending in with the kitchen supplies too. 

You hold his sisters the most, or they hold you, either way there’s some type of holding going on and it’s therapeutic for both of you. The oldest looks like she hasn’t stopped sobbing since yesterday. Since you told them all about it.

The police announced that he’s dead when you went to check again, and said there was a serial killer on the loose, the same guy who killed Carla, and they found a body in one of the warehouses. Which is total bullshit because demons wouldn’t throw a body in a warehouse, they’d probably… take it to hell?

Sam told you that it’s him, since you didn’t want to confirm it yourself, and you told his family that you were the one who confirmed it. You’re not sure how much of a bad person that makes you since none of them offered to check for you instead. 

Sam stayed with the kids in Gen’s house with her kid so maybe they did figure something out when they were screaming at each other, not that you care. You trust Sam. 

He’s the only person you trust.

There’s soft music thrumming out the speakers, though you lower the sound so people in the house can talk. One of the siblings brings their mother and you break down at the sight of her. She knows she has kids, she knows Mark, hell, she talks about him all the time. But more than that she loves you. His parents loved you the most out of their in-laws and while it created a rift in the family, it never did anything but humble you. You loved his dad, you were the first to get to his house when you heard what happened.

But seeing his mum— that you couldn’t take. 

It’s a few hours before they decide to leave. His brothers, both of them, come up to you asking about burying the casket. They’re doing it right next to his other brother and father. It’s family ground, or whatever it’s called.

You tell them you haven’t made any arrangements. They tell you not to worry. You hug both of them even if they did nothing to ease your concerns, at least that’s one less responsibility.

Gen holds your hand as you pace from the kitchen to the living room. There are kids, his family's kids, his friend’s kids, they’re all walking around, and you shouldn’t feel like this, you know that, but you can’t help the apprehensive emotions circling your heart and squeezing tight. 

The brothers leave to make the arrangements and everyone who isn’t immediate family has said their prayers and goodbyes. You’re all alone. Not that alone considering he has seven sisters and each one of them has at least three kids (one of them actually has 5 kids and two grandkids), but alone enough that none of you feel like you should socialize. Everyone’s in their own circle, you’re lying your head on Gen’s chest, hoping this horror show will end if you just close your eyes. Maybe you’ll hear his voice again, but it doesn’t happen. 

Except you hear his voice with every breath you take saying you’re the one who killed him. You’re the one who murdered your husband.

One Week After

“Jess, I swear to God, if you’re not done with your spelling homework—”

“She’s done.” You hear Sam’s voice get closer as he enters the kitchen and you nod softly at him. He frowns at you.

And you know why. 

“I helped her finish it.” He continues, walking up to you to greet you with a kiss to your head, but it’s not genuine. As much as Sam tries, his movements are all strained and it’s your fault. You haven’t stopped wearing black. 

“When did you come in?” You leave your door open most of the time in case one of his sisters comes to check up on you, or… or if Sam does. It gives his sisters comfort that you’re leaving your house open for them. The brothers haven’t spoken to you much since the funeral, but you know they’re grieving. Mark’s older brother lost his daughter and his brother in the span of a year. 

“Just a few minutes ago. Are you cooking?” You nod, looking away to check on the pasta. It’s a simple dinner, most of them have been since last week. You finally called the hospital yesterday and just as you were about to get a lecture from your attending, you told her what happened. She gave you an extra week off and you couldn’t reject it if you wanted to. 

“Pasta and Chicken tenders— it’s stupidly basic. I used to make it when we first got married, you know,” you let out a small humorless laugh, “and he hated me for it. Told me he’s a man and that he would starve if that’s what I thought food was. I learned how to make every dish his mother knew right then and there.”

Sam chuckles at your memory and it gives you a warm fuzzy feeling that you wish you could push away. These feelings aren’t supposed to be for Sam. You suppose in a way they aren’t. A pet of them, the majority, belong to the story, the fondness behind it. Imagining him sitting on the sofa of your old house scolding you half-playfully about the importance of meals the second week of your marriage.

“So why’d you come over?” He shrugs, sits down on the chair in front of the counter that’s facing you. “You’re welcome to stay for dinner. Emmy already likes you. I don’t know about Jess.”

“Right. She’s a hard one to open up.” You smile at the description of your daughter, because it’s the truest thing you’ve heard. With the mention of that— maybe it’s time to address the elephant in the room.

You spin back, hands clasped together and you spit it out, “I didn’t see you at Jess’s funeral.”

His face drops, which makes your stomach drop but whatever. You have to talk about this. He probably has as many questions as you do, since you’re not aware of anyone keeping in contact with Sam.

“I didn’t attend. It was hard for me.” You furrow your eyebrows, unclasping your hands to fold them against your chest. “I mean… I didn’t talk to anyone after Stanford. I mourned. ‘Just didn’t see a point in showing up.” That’s a shitty excuse. And you hope he knows it too because you looked for him.

You searched for Sam at that funeral, you even asked about him when a few students came. God, even Brady came. How fucked up is it that Brady showed up and not her best friend. “Did you even keep in contact with Jess when you left?”

“She didn’t tell you?”

No. You were heartbroken when you and Sam split up. “We didn't really bring you up.”

“Right. We did, for a couple of years, but I moved around a lot and I got a new phone every few months. Eventually she got a kid and we just lost contact.”

“What about when you… you know, got convicted and stuff.” 

“I— not exactly, you know what Dean and I do, we’re trying to help people, but we can’t just walk around telling them we think there’s a vampire in the neighborhood. FBI, police officers, they trust those people.” You nod. It’s still not an answer. He notices. “Yeah, she still talked to me after, I’m not sure she even knew. I mean, you had to really be up to date with the news to hear our names.”

“No, you just had to live in Lawrence and give two shits about your surroundings. We’d be lucky if Jess even opened her phone to check for something productive, ‘s probably why she never found out. Gen got scared when Jess died, really paranoid for Rue, so she took it upon herself to stay informed. Your name came up a time or two.”

He sighs, scrubs his hand down his face and gives you his back to rest his elbows on the counter. You don’t mind, liking the silence as you stir this, taste that. Cooking’s been an excellent distraction for life lately. Even if it’s the most basic thing to exist.

Sam ends up staying for dinner but Jess stares at him with questions as she sticks to your side. She also has the biggest look of betrayal when Emmy asks him to hold her. She enjoys how tall he is and he doesn’t seem to mind it. By bedtime, you decide to talk to Jess about him.

“Why don’t you like Sam?”

“He’s a giant, and he made daddy sad.” 

Oh. “When he was here with the other police?”

She nods.

“He didn’t make daddy sad, sweetheart, he asked about Carla.” Who is also in heaven. Seems like they have a couple of slots open.

You speak to her a little more, about Sam, about school tomorrow, about daddy and how she misses him, you miss him too. He probably misses you two the most. You kiss her head before shutting the lights off and running downstairs to wish Sam a goodnight.

Until you notice him half asleep on your couch, his head resting on his own shoulder in a way that could never look comfortable. You bite your lip in anxiety. 

On one hand, you care for Sam and you don’t want him to drive tired. On the other, what if someone sees him spending the night?

What if one of Mark’s sisters comes unannounced? 

You decide to suck it up and be a good person, patting him lightly. “Sam, Sam,” he suddenly sits up straighter, slightly disoriented, “C’mon, let’s get you on a bed.” 

He pouts his lips like has more to say but ends up listening to you anyways. Halfway up the stairs he remembers his manners. “Oh. Oh, no, no—”

“You’re already halfway up the stairs, let’s just go.”

“I won’t intrude, I’ll just get back to the motel, I don’t know why I crashed like that.” You put a hand on his shoulders, looking him in the eyes intensely to give your best ‘no bullshit’ look.

“Sam Winchester, if I have to convince you not to drive half asleep, I will force feed you sleeping pills. Got it?” He lets out a laugh before pulling you in a hug. And he’s one step below you so your head fits perfectly in as you tuck it in his neck.

“Thank you.” You shouldn’t cry again. It’s already been one hell of a week without adding non-Mark related crying. You shouldn’t. But you cry yourself to sleep anyways. 

Two Weeks After 

“So, how have you been holding up?” You look up from the papers you’re filling to your co-worker. One of the interns that started the same time as you. You’ve gotten quite close with Sage, he’s been a great friend, no matter how little you both talk.

“‘M okay. Thank you for asking.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.” You smile tightly before nodding and giving the papers to the nurse. 

“Thank you.” You walk away but he follows after you, considering you’re both heading to the same destination, the parking lot. Your first shift back finally  in over a week you couldn’t be more grateful.

“Do you want a ride home? I’m sorry I couldn’t make it to the funeral.” 

“No, thank you.” He’s being polite, you know that, but you’re not going to act the part of the widower. You’re fine. Your head’s still above water as much as anyone’s concerned. (Except Sam and Gen.)

Three Weeks After

Your mother is calling again. She won’t stop calling, and you can’t keep canceling. “Good morning, mum.”

There’s no one in the entire world that you love more than your mother. She’s your soulmate, she’s your best friend, she’s your biggest supporter. She’s everything you need and want in a person. She’s the only person who pulled you back from sinking when Jess died.

“Morning, baby girl. How are you?”

“I’m good, how about you and dad?”

She laughs as your father greets you, asking you where you’ve been. That you should call more often. That they’re there for you.

Yeah, that’s the problem.

Five Weeks After

“You’re… self-sabotaging. You don’t want to be happy, you don’t want to be okay.” The second the words leave Sam’s mouth, you try to kick him out with yelling. When that doesn’t work, you hit his chest with your fists, when that does nothing but make him barely stumble, you push  yourselves onto him in an attempt to throw him off his balance, instead he holds you as you cry.

What does he know? You’re grieving! You’re mourning. You miss him every single day and second and when his siblings gave you his inheritance you broke down so hard they were scared they’ll have to bring you to a hospital. 

He’s right. You’re going through the motions. Your kids ask you why they don’t go to the park on Friday. Your co-workers are worried for you. Gen cooks for you as much as she can. You killed him. You’re not— are you? You are.

“I don’t— want to. I don’t…” he shushes you, with reassuring ‘i know’ and ‘don’t worry, sweetheart’. When you’re calm enough to speak, you apologize for his tear-drenched shirt. And he gives you numbers for different therapists.

Later that week you tell Sam you won’t be doing therapy, but if he wants to help you, you’ll try. He says it’s enough compromise and he gives you a list of things to do. 

Make food that’s actually food. Work extra hours (you’ve been going under your normal hours the past three weeks). Friday park dates for the kids. Saturday lunch dates for you and Gen. 

Seven Weeks After 

You start wearing blue. Your favorite dress with small white flowers on it. You like how you look and it forces you to shave everything you’ve been neglecting lately. 

It’s time for you and Gen’s lunch date when you get a call from Sam. “I’m outside.”

You tell him you’ll be right down, spraying on perfume before running down to get your kids. “Hey, Jess, Emmy.” You capture their attention and they put down the iPad to stare at you. Maybe it’s your dress. “Sammy’s outside.” It’s the nickname Emmy’s given him and it makes your heart absolutely melt. “He’s going to drive you.” 

On your lunch dates you opt to leave your kids with your sister-in-law, the one you're closest to, anyways. She’s the youngest brother’s wife. But you’re running late and Sam offered to drive them himself. You’ve never left your kids alone with Sam anywhere other than in your house, where they’re comfortable. 

His car… It's worrying. 

You trust Sam completely and he’s been by your side every day for the past seven weeks but these are your children there’s just no way you’d neglect their feelings like that. But he convinced you that he’ll let them call you the entire time so they’re relaxed and you agreed.

You started locking your door.

Six Months After

“When’s Sammy coming?” You shrug, plating the Mac n’ cheese Jess requested. Today, Emmy is two whole years old.

It’s the first birthday you’re celebrating without Mark. And Sam offered to bring Gen and keep you both company. You’re still close to his family, you’re there once a week, if you can, but you’re slowly falling back to your routine, so you’re about to limit it to once every two weeks. The way Mark liked it.

The way you like it.

You’re picking up more shifts and making more elaborate dishes. One of your attendings told you if you keep putting in the work, he’s thinking of taking you in Cardiovascular. Your first choice would’ve been OBG-YN but if Cardio is what you’re the best in, you’ll take it.

Once all three of you are done and putting your plates away, the doorbell rings and you smile when Emmy runs over. You keep an eye on her as she waits for Jess to open the door. Sam and Gen are loud as they enter your house, hugging the kids. Sam picks Emmy up, teasing her about being two as they make it to the kitchen.

You lean in to hug Gen. Then Sam greets you like he always does, a kiss to your head. Emmy, being the adorable two year old, drops her face to do the same and Sam has to bring her back up with a smile to both your faces.

“Mommy they got velvet! My favorite!” Jess squeals, peeking at the cake and you look at both of your friends with a grateful look. 

Mark’s inheritance wasn’t even split upon you and anyone else, it’s all for you. And you’d been saving for a while too, so you’re set. Including your work, it’s going great, but they still insisted on being the ones to bring the cake. 

“Okay, we watch frozen first then cake, right, baby girl?” Sam asks Emmy and she smiles, hollering  in excitement. He puts her down so she, Gen and Jess can all go put the movie on, he holds you in place. “How are you?”

“I’m okay. Thank you for doing this, you really didn’t have to.” He shakes his head, taking a step closer to you, brushing a strand of your hair away from your face. And it’s weird that you know exactly what that means. “I’m better, I guess. Jess and Emmy still talk about him and— I made Mac n’ cheese today— but only because Jess wanted to—”

“Sweetheart, cooking was never about making it big, it was about what made you happy. And you’re happier when you make a big meal, I want you to feel that happiness again.” Maybe. Whatever. You still failed today, but it’s fine. “You did amazing today.” He tilts your chin up and you're forced to focus on his hazel-green eyes, “I’m proud of you. And you look beautiful.” He gestures to the pink top you have on, intricate lace design at your chest then it’s silk down till you tuck it into your jeans. 

A little dressing up was in order if you’re having a mini party. Even your kids and Rue are all in dresses. 

Sam walks you out to the couch, settles in next to you on one side and Jess on your other. Emmy alternated between all three of your laps.

Maybe you did amazing today.

One Year After

You call your mum as you practically bounce off the walls of your house, biting your lip so you don’t squeal like a five year old (no offense to Jess). 

“Mommy?” You jump the second she answers, “I got a job with Doctor Mendez!” And because you speak to her at least four times a week about him, she’s aware of who he is, the Cardiovascular Attending at your hospital. The one who’s due to retire any day now and is looking for a replacement. While he didn’t say it exactly, you’re the only student he picked to teach!

“Really? Oh, that’s wonderful, honey. Oh my God!” You gush over the entire thing to her in a phone call that lasts a little over an hour. Your dad congratulates you too and you run to pick up Jess from football practice so you can tell her too. 

She hugs you, although she doesn’t seem to care, and tells you all about her new coach. 

You pick up Emmy from the nursery and one of the moms with a son who’s taking an internship at your hospital congratulates you.

For some reason, you break down the second you’re home. “Thank you for— not hating me.” You smile through tears. “I don’t think I would’ve even cared to get this far if I thought you hated me. I love you, Mark, I love you so much and I can’t wait to see you and tell you everything.” 

But for once while you’re talking to him, they’re not hostile tears or sorrowful. You’re content. 

And not to some extent either. You’re fully content. 

Especially when Sam knocks on your door. Your Saturday dinner with him and Gen is tomorrow and you mentioned that you need new clothes to which he decided to make a day of it. Jess decides she wants to hang out with Rue and Emmy follows her sister wherever she goes. 

You dust yourself off and open the door. You don’t expect this many emotions when you see him. But they’re there. And they’re really really there.

“Hey.” He smiles, walking in. “Are the girls ready? I parked in the driveway but if they’re gonna take a while I can park it—”

“Why are you still here?” You see his face drop before you scramble to correct yourself, “I meant, you kept saying you move a lot and with Dean, hunting, whatever— but you’re here. It’s been a year and you’re still living in a motel, Sam.”

“I’ve actually, uh, bought an apartment. A while ago.” You can hear your heartbeat In your ears, “It seemed cheaper to just rent an apartment since… since I’m living here.”

“You’re living here— since when? What about Dean?”

“He’s settling down, too. Cicero, he’s living with his girlfriend and her kid.” You’re not supposed to cry again. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong? I’ll stop coming over if you—”

“No,” you smile, “no, that’s just. I’m so happy for Dean, he deserves it, you know? Sam, look, I don’t know him well, I barely knew you before you both showed up as cops on my doorstep, but you’re not the same men that I hung out with in Stanford, you guys look so— and I mean this in the most loving way possible— exhausted. I wanted to ask, but it never seems like the time, you know? Just know I want to know about everything. Anything you want to tell me, I want to know. You mean a lot more to me than I ever let on.”

Sam’s eyes are watery but you don’t think you’ve ever seen the man cry and he doesn’t start today, but he does bring you in for a kiss that you don’t expect. He’s slow as he brings you in, like he’s reassuring you you can pull away at any moment, but you don’t.

You let it consume you. You move in, standing taller with your hands on his biceps. It’s a strong hold, like you’re scared he’ll disappear, and maybe he will, who knows? 

It won’t stop you. 

Because losing people is the way of the universe and not getting close won’t stop Sam from leaving, it won’t stop your kids from hating you, and it won’t stop your friends from moving away. 

And maybe it took you a damn long time to get there, but you’re not stupid enough to keep repeating the cycle at twenty eight, especially not with Sam. Never with Sam.

You just hope Mark’s proud of you. You hope he supports you. Because he pushed you here. He’s the only reason you’re able to stand tall and put yourself out there, his love, his worry for you, it changed you.

Or maybe he’s half the reason, you’re pretty strong yourself.

End.

this was super new to me in terms of I did coloring??? on the pics?? look at me beating the non creative allegations (insecurities), and different writing style that I honestly really liked. thank you for reading if you've made it this far.

tag list:

@angzls @chxrrybomb22 @pinkpantheris @ang3ldool @iloveragdollcats 

@oohjana18294 @user-2538484747490203746579403 @wattpaduser200 @s0urw00lf @ashlynyyyyy

@strabarrybat @anu-piyakya97 @tranquilitybasegrunge @consistentreader578

[tightjeansjavi]

The Rite of Movement | part five

“something I’m not, but something I can be”

A/N: big disclaimer for this chapter: I do not know if this is actually how the porn industry functions. And while Brazzers is a real porn site, I don’t have any knowledge of how they run things on their site. For the sake of fiction, and the storyline, I wrote Joel’s era in Brazzers as a very very toxic work environment. Please heed the warnings. This takes place pre-miller-co. Joel and baby love have not met yet. Joel does however have a girlfriend during his time at Brazzers. Oh, and I listened to what was I made for on repeat while I wrote this 🥺 thank you to @itsokbbygrl for betaing and being my little cheerleader through this series 💗 and thank you to all my other friends for your endless support on my silly lil stories! (Y’all know who you are and how much I love you!)

~word count: 3.1k~

Summary: it’s Joel Miller’s 30th birthday. 30 years of existing, 12 years working for Brazzers, and what does he really have to show for his life outside of being a pornstar?

Pairing | pornstar!joel x pornstar!female reader

Warnings: angst, implied smut, toxic work environment, implied workplace abuse, mentions of the porn industry, misogynistic comments/behavior towards women in the porn industry (not by Joel), feelings of body insecurity, shame, mentions of smoking, grief, resentment, language, mature themes, +18 minors dni!

series masterlist

Los Angeles, CA. September 26, 2009

An alarm clock blares on Joel’s nightstand, the shrill sound pierces his eardrums, sending his arm flying out from under the covers, smacking the top of the device, silencing it with a heavy groan rumbling up his chest.

6:00 a.m. the sun has barely just begun to peek over the mountains, the bustle of LA traffic, late-night goers returning home, early-morning risers preparing for another droning day.

The big 30: The age where you were expected to have your shit together. No more making foolish mistakes, no more job hopping, you should be married with kids and have a house with a white picket fence and drive a minivan. You should be invested in the stock market, your lawn should be properly trimmed, maybe you even make enough money to own a vacation home.

Joel hadn’t a fucking clue what he wanted out of life. He wasn’t married. He didn’t have any kids. He lived in an apartment with his brother Tommy, splitting the rent between their paychecks. LA never felt like home to him. He liked the palm trees and the beach. He hated LA traffic, smog, and that stupid Hollywood sign that alluded to a lifestyle that only the ‘chosen’ members of high society would get to indulge in.

City of Angels? Not even close.

30 years old, and feeling like he had nothing to show for his life outside of being a pornstar. A branding identity that shamed him more times than he was willing to admit. Is this all I’m good for?

Brazzers was the bane of his existence for 12 years, and yet every time he would try and put his foot down and quit, he was lured right back in. He loved sex just like anyone else. He loved the intimacy, the closeness, the connection to another human being. Above all, he loved making his partners feel good. To make them come, fall apart on his tongue, fingers, or his cock. To hear their pleasured cries, high-pitched real moans of his name.

It was euphoric for him, to make another person feel so good that they completely lose themselves in the moment, in the feeling of the rite of movement. He used to think that this was enough, that the act of sex and unbridled pleasure was all viewers would want to see. He thought he was enough.

But in the adult film industry, sex was never just enough.

He didn’t like being told how he should fuck.

Yank her hair harder.

Slap her around a little.

Squeeze her cheeks till she cries.

Choke her.

I want to see bruises on her ass, Joel.

Fuck her like you mean it, like you hate her. Like she’s your bitch. Your property.

Are we making a porno here or what? Don’t wipe her tears. That’s not what men want. They want to see a cunt being pounded. C’mon, Joel. This is supposed to be a male fantasy!

He learned how to dissociate and remove himself from the scene entirely. He worked on autopilot, tuning out the jarring voices that demanded more from him and his partner(s). And when the passion faded, he struggled to stay hard and on top of his game.

And even with the warm, wet mouth of a fluffer sucking his soft cock, he wasn’t turned on. Not in the slightest and he could feel the shame creeping up on his neck as the director barked at him to get his shit together.

“What do you mean you’re not able to get hard, Miller? You got a hot piece of ass under you, man! What the hell else do you want? Y’know, would it really hurt for you to be more like your brother?”

“She’s got a name, you know.” Joel bit back, grinding his jaw back and forth. The blatant disrespect that women faced on a day to day basis was downright disgusting.

“Oh for fuck’s sake. You make pornos, Joel! Or did you forget? Stop acting like a fucking sissy and do your goddamn job.”

“I need a minute,” he gruffed out and gently pushed the fluffer's mouth off of his cock. He strode past the director and the rest of the set crew and pulled his boxers on in a haste.

“Fine. You get 10 minutes, Miller. And when you get back, I expect you to be fucking ready, and hard.”

Joel didn’t respond as he shucked on his shorts and threw on his hoodie, grabbing his phone and pack of cigarettes to stuff in his pocket. He averted making eye contact with the director, shoulder checking him on his way out of the room.

10 minutes, Miller!

Fuck you is what Joel really wanted to say as he walked at a fast past towards the nearest exit in the long hallway.

-

The sun was blinding the moment he stepped outside into the back alley. He whipped his phone out, nervously pacing back and forth as he dialed Tommy’s number, listening to the dial tone ring and ring.

“Hey, you old fart! Feelin’ 30 yet?” Tommy said playfully.

“Yeah. I’m feelin’ 30 alright.” Joel grumbled, sinking back against the side of the building.

“What’s up? I know how much you hate your birthday, but why do you sound so—”

“I’m fuckin’ quitting, Tommy. I can’t do this shit anymore. I can’t fuckin’ do it. I’m about five seconds away from stormin’ back in there and beatin’ the living shit out of the director.” He snapped, carding his fingers through his hair, gripping the roots tightly. “I’m throwin’ the towel in, and I ain’t lookin’ back.”

“Woah, woah, woah! Hold on now, what the fuck happened? Are you sure you just want to—”

“Tommy.” Joel warned him, squeezing his eyes shut as he pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “Don’t start this with me, okay? I need to know if you’re with me on this because I sure as hell ain’t leavin’ you out here on your own.”

“I ain’t a kid anymore, Joel. If you want to quit for your own reasons, that’s fine, and I support you, but that doesn’t mean that—” he sighed deeply, weighing out his words in his head before he said, “of course I’m with you on this.”

“I’m not gonna force you to quit, Tommy. I jus’ don’t think this cesspool is fuckin’ good for either of us. Talked to a few others that were thinkin’ of quitting, but no one has pulled the trigger yet. We can do some amateur work till we find our footing again, and I want to move back home, Tommy. I want to move back to Texas. I fuckin’ hate this state. Everythin’ is too damn expensive.”

“I’ll follow you wherever you go, Joel. You know I will. But what about…Carmen and Sarah? You jus’ gonna pack your shit up and not tell her?”

Joel felt his heart twist and clench, knocking the air from his lungs because for the first time in his 30 years of life, his heart was going to be broken, and there was nothing he could do to prevent the inevitable from happening.

“She’s never gonna accept me for who I am and my job, Tommy. She resents it, I know she does. And Sarah will eventually resent me too. She’ll grow up and feel ashamed that her stepfather is a fuckin’ pornstar. They both deserve better than what I can offer them. It’s not like I can just start over and get a respectable job! What established company is gonna hire a guy who’s CV consists of a highschool diploma, a year of working construction jobs and 12 years in the adult film industry?”

Tommy felt his heart break for his brother, splitting right down the middle. “Joel…” he trailed off.

“Her friends treat me differently, and everytime I’ve brought up the potential of meeting her family, she changes the subject on me, Tommy. And you know what? I don’t blame her. Who the fuck would want to introduce their pornstar boyfriend to anyone, let alone her family? I jus’ figured I’d cut her losses sooner rather than later. And even if things were to work out, and I get a new job, a new life, am I just supposed to accept the knowledge of knowin’ that the entire time we have been together, she’s resented my job? Some things just aren’t meant to work out, and that’s fine. I’ll let her go and she’ll meet a nice, normal, man with a good stable job who doesn’t fuck for a living.”

Joel Miller. Paging, Joel. You’re needed on set. Hurry the fuck up—

“Fuckers.” Joel muttered under his breath as he rose to his feet. “I gotta go, okay? I’ll text you in a bit.”

“Wait, Joel,” Tommy started, trying to think of what he could possibly say to his brother that would make the situation better. “Everythin’ is gonna be okay. It’ll all work out in the end.”

“Yeah, sure.” He replied flatly. “I’ll see you.” he ended the call, shoving his phone back into his hoodie pocket and pushed open the exit door just as his name was called over the intercom again.

This time he was going to put his foot down for good. He wasn’t going to be lured back in. He was done. His mind was made up and there would be no turning back.

-

“Fucking finally. I said 10 minutes, Miller. You’re lucky I even gave you that.” The director scoffed and snapped his fingers at the fluffer to do her job.

Joel stopped her with a gentle hand along her shoulder before he made direct eye contact with the director. “That won’t be necessary.”

“What the fuck do you mean that won’t be necessary? We were supposed to be wrapped up with this shit already. I have a freshie to introduce to you afterwards, so if we can just get a move on—”

“I said, that won’t be necessary.” Joel calmly reiterated as he grabbed his bag from the floor and slung it over his shoulder.

“Boy, you better fucking start talking. What do you mean that won’t be necessary?!”

“It means that I quit. And I hope that freshie and every other woman here fuckin’ quits while they still have the chance.”

The atmosphere in the brightly lit room immediately shifted and the tension was palpable. Joel’s onscreen partner was shocked, the fluffer was shocked along with the rest of the film crew.

“You have gotta fucking joking me right now.” The director laughed bitterly, shaking his head. “You got some fucking nerve, Miller.”

Joel shrugged, glancing around the room before he turned towards the door, grasping the handle in his palm and pushed it open. He paused, looking over his shoulder, giving his onscreen partner a small, reassuring nod, “oh, and just a little word of advice? If you want sex to sell, and for Brazzers to not tank like the fuckin’ stock market, start by treatin’ women in the industry with respect. Jus’ a little food for thought. Pass that onto the CEO, and then tell him to shove it right up his ass.”

He walked out after that, listening to the director holler his name and something along the lines of, you’ll be back. They always fucking come back!

And on his way out, his shoulder gently made contact with another body rushing up the stairwell. “‘S’cuse me.” He rasped.

You didn’t get a look at the stranger's face on your way up. You were too focused on the fact that you were running late, and couldn’t afford to be potentially fired.

He didn’t get a look at your face either.

-

Joel opted to be alone for the rest of the day, sitting on the hood of his car, smoking through an entire pack of cigarettes while he watched the clouds roll by, and tourists stop to take pictures of the infamous Hollywood sign. He thought about his life up until this point.

30 years on this shithole we call earth. 12 years spent in the adult film industry, and never had he felt so lost and alone. Hours away from ending his first ever long term relationship and leaving the past behind.

Fuck 30. He thought to himself.

The inevitable settled into his bones as the sun slowly began to set behind the mountains, creating stunning hues of pink, oranges and purples in the sky. His phone buzzed on the exterior of the hood of his car, tearing him away from his thoughts when Carmen’s name popped up on the screen.

Hey, birthday boy. Are we still on for Thai food tonight? x.

Hey, baby. Yeah, of course. Can’t wait to see you.

5 missed calls from Tommy

10 messages from Tommy.

What happened to fucking calling me later, Joel?!

Why is your phone going straight to voicemail!

Can you just let me know that you’re okay?!

Joel.

Dude.

Pick up your phone!

And you call me the bad texter?!

This isn’t funny.

I didn’t sign up for the silent treatment!

If you’re dead in a ditch somewhere I’m gonna fucking kill you!!

He typed out a quick message to his brother informing him that he was in fact still alive and that he would be home soon.

What he wasn’t expecting was Carmen and Tommy to host a surprise birthday dinner at his apartment. He wasn’t mad at his brother for not giving him a heads up, and it wasn’t like Tommy could tell Carmen a simple, hey, by the way, my brother is going to break up with you and he wants to move back to Texas!

But all Joel could feel now when she pressed her lips to his in a sweet kiss, and planted a silly little party hat on his head, was guilt. An overwhelming tidal wave of guilt and shame for what he was going to do. And throughout the evening his guilt began to fester like an untreated wound. Bubbling pus leaked from his heartstrings like a broken faucet when he opened his unexpected present from Carmen.

It was a pocket wrist watch with an olive green strap that fit his wrist perfectly.

“You’re always misplacing your phone, so I figured that this would help you tell the time better? I know it isn’t much—”

He interjected softly, looking over at her with a small smile tugging on his lips, “It’s perfect. Thank you.” I’m so sorry.

And when Tommy stepped outside for a smoke and to give Joel and Carmen a bit of privacy, the energy shifted and Joel could feel the thread between them being pulled tight, threatening to snap at any given moment.

“Joel, is everything okay? You’ve hardly said a word to me tonight.”

And instead of responding, he got up from the couch in a haste, trying to keep his nerves at bay, but truthfully? He was panicking and it was written all over his face. “I’m fine, Carm. I jus’—I need some air.” He walked the short distance to the little balcony, pulling the door open as he stepped outside into the cooling night air.

Lights shimmered in the distance, palm trees swayed from a breeze off the coast. 30 years old and he felt like the biggest fucking asshole on the planet. Can I fix this? Can I make it work?

He stared down at the watch on his wrist, the tiny spokes ticking away as he rested his forearms along the paint chipped railing, listening to the soft squeak of the sliding door being pulled open as the blood rushed in his ears.

He tapped his foot nervously, jaw ticking under the fading light at the realization that there was no turning back.

“Do you love me?” He suddenly spoke, teeth grinding down on the inside of his cheek, the taste of copper bursting on his tongue. A reminder come morning when he would awake to the same soreness in his mouth that he feels in his heart.

“Joel…” she trailed off, standing alongside him, rubbing her arm as a self-soothing gesture.

“Do you love me…unconditionally?” His question hung heavy in the air, and when she didn’t immediately answer, tears began to prick the corner of his eyes, stinging and blurring his vision.

“Baby, please…why are—”

“Please don’t call me that right now, Carmen. Please.” he sniffled, staring back out over the railing at the shimmering mirage of Los Angeles. “If you did love me unconditionally, you would have answered me right away. It’s okay, I’m not mad at you. I could never be mad at you. I jus’—I know you resent me for being a pornstar. I’ve known about it for a while,” he said softly, feeling a tear rolling down along the side of his nose and drip down over his lips. His dewy eyed gaze met hers briefly, before he looked away. “And I also know that you would never ask me to quit, but you and I both know that’s what you want from me.”

There was no point in trying to deny it any longer. There was no bad blood, no bitterness. Just two adults facing the reality that is life. And sometimes…relationships don’t work out. The passion fades and resentment rears its ugly head.

“And no matter how many times I have tried to earnestly explain to you why I chose this career path, you will never understand. And I would never try to force you to. But it’s not fair to you, myself, or Sarah to continue this relationship when you will never accept me for who I am, Carmen.”

“You’re right, Joel.” She said quietly, her own tears beginning to brew along her waterline. “I’m so sorry.”

He swallowed the lump growing in his throat and the sob threatening to leave his lips, “I am too.”

There isn’t much left to say as they hug for the last time. She wishes him well in life and he does the same. There’s a new ache in his chest at the thought of him no longer being involved in Sarah’s life anymore. But he believes she’ll be better off without him, too.

And when she leaves his apartment for the last time, taking almost 3 years of memories along with her as the front door clicks shut, and her echoing footsteps down the hall become softer and softer, he lets out the sob he had been suppressing, sinking down to his knees in defeat.

Tears stream down his cheeks as a car horn blares below on the street.

Fuck you, asshole! Get out of the road! The owner of a sleek BMW yells with the window rolled down to a teenager crossing the street on his bike.

30 years old and heartbroken. So much for having his shit together.

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[pshbites]

LOVE ON AiR 6. ROUND TABLE EP 149: perfect pitch :o

WARNiNGS » profanity, mentions of drinking, jake being a menace, there also might be typos 😢

3.7k words (again imsorry)

episode desc - come and take a seat with us at our round table! todays episode is a little different because while talking we built a lego set that jake got! while building we covered perfect pitch, icks in relationships, and scenarios we got sent by you guys on twitter. so please stay for a while with us and get comfortable, hope you enjoyed your meeting with us at the round table! 

*all four boys are seating at a round table, jake is opening a lego box to get out the packets and instructions. heeseung adjusts the camera. the setting of the room is a lot more casual, there’s polaroids on the wall of them and their friends. the chairs they sit in aren’t normal outdoor chairs but rather look much more comfortable. each mic has something correlating to them. jake has iron man, heeseung has a controller, jay has a tiny chef hat and sunghoon has a penguin. heeseung takes a seat and claps his hands together. from left to right the order they’re sitting in goes jake, jay, sunghoon, heeseung.*

heeseung: okay the camera is good 

jay: what was going on with it? 

heeseung: it kept focusing in and out very weirdly, also i think it was dying so i had to change the battery. *he adjusts his mic so it picks up the sound better*

*sunghoon shuts off his phone and sits up, adjusting his mic and looking to the camera* 

sunghoon: guys i am not an alpha male, i like chappell roan and other non alpha male things and i love lauryn hill 

jake: so convincing *he scoffs-half laugh.* 

sunghoon: no im serious, i gave the album a listen and i loved it so much 

jay: told you 

heeseung: what are we building by the way. *he sits up a little taller to try and see the box. 

jake: i’m not telling you! it’s gonna be a surpriseee *sing-song voice* 

jay: i don’t know if you guys know or not but sunghoon and jake were actually late today 

sunghoon: yeah! getting snacks for you and heeseung! 

heeseung: i’m not gonna get on to them they actually brought us food. 

jay: oh but last time i was late you cut from my paycheck 

jake: bring food next time loser 

*jay flicks jake��s forehead making him groan loudly* 

jay: i’m mistreated guys im taking new friend applications 

heeseung: oh like jake’s girlfriend application? 

*the group laughs, jake looks the camera in all seriousness* 

jake: if this gets 1 million likes i’ll post the google form. 

heeseung: where would you take her out for a first date 

jay: don’t make him say it, we might get demonetized. *jay laughs along with sunghoon and heeseung. jake rolls his eyes and sighs* 

jake: you think so low of me. 

sunghoon: well considering when you [BLEEP] in your last relationship 

jake: woah?!? i told you that in confidence. 

*sunghoon laughs loudly. jay and heeseung look at each other then laugh* 

jake: okay guys it’s not that funny 

heeseung: cannot believe you did that. you begged her? 

jay: according to sunghoons words the [BLEEP] was too good 

jake: GUYSSSS *he groans, putting his head on the table* 

sunghoon: okay okay fine 

*sunghoon heeseung and jay stop laughing in an attempt to calm themselves down* 

heeseung: before we sign in we should recap our weekend right? 

*jay nods, taking a sip of his water and sitting up straighter. jake moves the pile of lego bags in the middle along with the instruction booklets.* 

sunghoon: well mine was chill, ask those two schmucks though. *he points to jay and jake who smile at one another knowing what they did this weekend* 

jake: okay well we went to a music festival and it was so sick. 

jay: no yeah it was so fun, we were at the barricades too! 

*heeseung widens his eyes, intently listening* 

heeseung: barricades?! who was performing. 

jay: it was a lot of underground artists but live music is like always good. it kinda sucked though because we were with yeonjun and his friends and i knew jake was gonna be drunk so i had to drive back home. 

*jake laughs, jay glaring at him.* 

jake: yeah but you had fun, flirted around too didn’t ya. *he playfully hits jays shoulder, making his ears turn red* 

heeseung & sunghoon: OOOOO *sing-song voice* 

jay: barely, BARELY. this girl liked my outfit and we talked for a bit 

jake: ‘a bit’ more like all night. 

heeseung: oooo 1, 2, 3, 4 that guy has rizz galoreeee! 

*once he says that the boys stop what they’re doing to stare at him, jake side eyes sunghoon and all three of them begin laughing at heeseung.* 

sunghoon: what the fuck was that man 

heeseung: *laughs embarrassingly* i don’t know i saw it on my tiktok, i just wanted to try it 

jay: for those of you who say that heeseung gets hoes he in fact does not *still laughing* 

jake: only thing he touches is his controller everyday 

*jay and sunghoon laugh harder, their faces turning red. heeseung tries to hold back his laugh but then starts laughing with them.* 

heeseung: you guys are so mean 

sunghoon: if we can’t humble you who will.  

jay: well spoken hoon. 

jake: no no i think heeseung gets hoes 

heeseung: ehhhh my last relationship was a year ago 

sunghoon: i swore yall broke up a couple months ago 

jay: dude your perception of time is so bad 

jake: yeah it’s been a little more than a year

sunghoon: then i guess heeseung needs that girlfriend application more than you do. *laughs*

heeseung: can we just sign in please 

jake: oookaayy! welcome to another round table meeting, please sit down with us. i’m your host jake for this week and todays activity is legos and snacks! to my far right i have..

sunghoon: sunghoon

heeseung: heeseung

jay: ur mom 

jake: that wasn’t funny. 

heeseung: loser

jay: says the one who said the most embarrassing joke known to man 

*jay sticks his tongue out at heeseung making him flip him off*

jake: anyways, starting off the episode i wanna talk about how fucking convenient it is that heeseung has perfect pitch 

*the boys begin opening the lego bags, pouring it out and each taking their respective instruction booklet, one for each of them.*

heeseung: honestly one day i was just playing the piano and i discovered i had it 

sunghoon: yeah then you started milking the shit out of it 

jay: jake has a point because whenever i need to tune my guitars hee always helps me

heeseung: its good with the ladies too

jake: yeah okay rizz galore 

heeseung: okay enough

sunghoon: mmm i don’t think it’s enough *jay jake and sunghoon laugh at heeseungs face which is a pout* 

jake: it’s so cool though, i’ve never met anyone who has it 

heeseung: i don’t know, i think it would be much more convenient if i was like a singer or something but im not. it’s kind of a pointless talent 

sunghoon: i don’t think so, it gives you personality 

jay: you could’ve been a singer if you wanted to. if you guys don’t know heeseung actually auditioned to be in one of those kpop survival shows 

jake: *gasp* i remember, you told us at lunch that day like it was the biggest thing ever 

heeseung: you guys know the real reason i auditioned?

sunghoon: wait why

heeseung: because [BLEEP] did 

jay: *laughs, throwing his head back then high fiving sunghoon across the table* we figured 

heeseung: you two knew?!

sunghoon: jake did too actually but he thought it was.. you know 

jake: yeah i didn’t know it was her though 

heeseung: well my dreams of being in a kpop group were crushed when they rejected me. it didn’t matter anyways because i wasn’t that excited 

jay: i remember vividly you cried for weeks 

heeseung: is it hate heeseung day?

sunghoon: no, but it can be 

*heeseung shoves sunghoon shoulder making him giggle* 

jake: should i start with my questions? 

jay: yeah go ahead gamemaker 

sunghoon: floors yours 

jake: okay well i only had one question and the rest were scenarios that people sent 

heeseung: agh before you do ill go and grab those snacks that you bought 

jake: okay we can wait it’s fine 

*heeseung gets up, leaving the room, jay jake and sunghoon continue to build, looking at the instructions* 

jake: you know i was thinking the other night we’ve known each other forever 

jay: we really have haven’t we. i mean i have to be honest i never would’ve expected to be like best friends with you guys 

sunghoon: ouch 

jay: not like that. i mean that i never would’ve thought that id actually have people this close to me you know. or like people who understand me this much. 

sunghoon: i understand. i feel the same. i mean i feel like people think im just cold and heartless but you guys understand me for who i am 

jake: you just seem like you are, you aren’t actually hoon. 

sunghoon: it just feels like it sometimes. like i feel like i don’t try to come off as cold but it just happens. 

jay: it’s the ice in your veins 

*all three of them laugh* 

sunghoon: no but really, i just think that you guys understand me so much more than i would’ve imagined 

*heeseung walks back in, eyebrows furrowed at the conversation they’re having. he sets the snacks down on the table and sits down*

heeseung: didn’t expect it to get deep today 

jake: sorry guys 

jay: it’s okay, i like our deep convos 

heeseung: jake? you wanna ask your question? 

jake: oh yeah! *he pulls out his phone to see his layout of todays episode* okay first off, what do you guys think your icks are in relationships. or talking stage or anything really. 

jay: this is a hot take but just being overly rude. 

*heeseung, jake, and sunghoon hum in agreement* 

jay: i think it’s kind of annoying but also just mean. like i understand the occasional joking manner but being mean to people unprompted is so weird. 

sunghoon: i agree, i think it really displays what kind of person you are. like why are you being mean to people you’ve never even met. let alone don’t even know. 

heeseung: i feel like it depends on the situation you know. could be one of those things where she seems rude but in reality she’s not. 

jay: i guess so, but i still just find it weird. i understand being closed off with your emotions but i think just being rude without any reasoning is just mean. 

jake: i understand that. personally an ick for me is someone who has a big ego not in like a funny way but in a way they always have to one up you. it’s like the relationship is a competition almost 

sunghoon: mmm see ive met some people like that, i do feel like there’s some underlying trauma that makes them do that you know. *sunghoon opens the bag of snacks in front of him and takes a chip out, angling the bag towards the others and they dig in.* 

jay: i think what jake is trying to say is that they’re just really full of themselves. like they think they can do any wrong 

sunghoon: that’s just a shitty person to be around. 

heeseung: an ick for me is someone who doesn’t know how to dress 

*heeseung looks to the other boys and they burst out laughing at the change of mood.*

jay: i love how we talked about deep things and heeseungs is so surface level 

heeseung: okay im sorry! i would want my partner to just dress nice it’s not hard to ask 

sunghoon: i don’t think ive ever talked to a girl who didn’t have style

heeseung: me either but there’s people out there

jake: *laughs* okay hee. what about you hoon? 

sunghoon: *he thinks whilst he’s trying to build* maybe insecure people? 

jay: okay that’s a bit of a hot take 

sunghoon: not like that. i understand people have insecurities it’s just annoying because at some point those insecurities will just go onto your shoulders that’s not something i want. i’m not the most confident person but at the same time i am confident in my own skin so i guess i would want someone like that 

heeseung: i get it, sometimes people like that can drag you down with them. it’s entirely too draining 

sunghoon: i just want to have fun in my relationship. like i don’t want it to be too tolling 

jake: but what good is a relationship if you don’t have to work for it? 

sunghoon: you have a point. ugh why can’t you be wrong like always 

*jay laughs, jake rolls his eyes at sunghoon and chuckles a little* 

jake: you’re annoying 

sunghoon: yeah but you love me 

heeseung: awwww a confession 

jake: shut up 

*sunghoon smiles at jake’s cheeks flushing pink*

jay: i’m kind of excited for these scenarios 

jake: oh they are juicy our listeners have exciting lives. the first one is this girl has a boy best friend who is really close with her crush. but it turns out she found out that the boy best friend has a crush on her and so does her crush. she doesn’t know which guy to pick because they’re both equally good to her but she’s starting to like both of them. 

heeseung: oh that’s messy. move cities? 

jay: be serious heeseung 

heeseung: no i would like actually have to move cities if that were to happen. that’s such a difficult choice. 

jay: the question is did she really even like her crush if she’s starting to like her boy best friend? 

sunghoon: ooo you’re right. it’s like they say, you didn’t actually love the first if you fall for the second 

jake: wise words spoken from park sunghoon

sunghoon: i read that on a facebook post 

*the four of them laugh at sunghoons analogy* 

heeseung: i guess just pick whichever one you like more. 

jake: okay just to spin it around for you guys. what if they’re actively fighting over her and it’s ruining their friendship so if she picked one the other wouldn’t talk to either of them again. 

jay: oh that’s hard.. i have to agree with heeseung move cities 

jake: guys come on! real advice! 

jay: ugh fine. 

heeseung: well.. was their friendship really that strong if they’re fighting over a girl of all things. 

sunghoon: oh you’re right. they weren’t ever really friends if a girl came between them. it just proves the friendship was weak at the start so she shouldn’t have to feel that bad about it because they couldn’t have been that close. 

jay: but what if that just reflects that her and the guys future relationship will be just as weak as that friendship. 

jake: hey why’d you twist it! 

jay: sorryy *he smiles at jake and he rolls his eyes, continuing to build* 

heeseung: easy get over them 

jake: that’s not a good answer 

heeseung: okay fine then she should choose herself. she doesn’t need that kind of toxicity in her life 

sunghoon: yeah i agree

jay: same here 

jake: okay next! this guy says “recently my girlfriend told me that she’s questioning her sexuality, i want to be there for her and help her through whatever she is going through but would it be selfish for me to put myself first and break up with her?” *jay and heeseungs eyes widened as jake kept reading the message*

sunghoon: well. i mean it’s clear she doesn’t feel the same way for him anymore so i don’t think he’s wrong to break up with her 

heeseung: is it like he’s scared she’s gonna cheat on him? 

jay: i think it’s just because he knows her heart isn’t in it anymore. which is fine it happens to everyone. 

heeseung: okay, then yeah it’s not wrong to break up. i would say though continue to be her friend if he still wanted to be there for her 

jay: yeah, i agree with that. it’s completely reasonable to break up if it’s already like been made aware that one person doesn’t feel the spark anymore. there’s no point in staying together 

jake: how would you guys feel? if you were the guy. 

sunghoon: i’d be hurt because break ups suck but at the same time i can’t do much. it’s like sorta out of your hands. 

heeseung: yeah, i mean if she’s questioning her sexuality that’s okay but i would have to put myself first and step out of the relationship 

jake: okay okay. so last scenario, “my friend group is drifting apart because two of our friends dated and broke up. one of them cheated but the person who cheated is my closest friend in the whole world. what do i do” 

*heeseung jay and sunghoon all collectively have the same facial expression*

heeseung: the fuck. 

jay: i would seriously be questioning the friendship 

sunghoon: what do you mean

jay: think about it, if someone can be in a relationship claim to love someone then cheat on them what does that say about what kind of friend they are. 

sunghoon: oh.. you’re so right. 

heeseung: wait so these two people who dated were in the same friend group and because of that they’re taking sides? 

jake: yeah, they didn’t clarify but i’m sure that’s what they meant. 

heeseung: what kind of bullshit is that? friends shouldn’t be dragging the other in their relationship. it doesn’t matter if they broke up you shouldn’t have to take sides

jay: i mean it makes a bit of sense, the guy cheated so who would wanna be friends with a cheater

sunghoon: i agree with jay, i would seriously drop that guy even if he was my best friend. it takes an evil spawn of satan to cheat on someone

*jay and jake side eye each other then laugh at sunghoons word choice. heeseung joins in and sunghoon laughs along*

jake: you have such a way with words

sunghoon: it’s like the evilest thing ever dude

jay: hes so real because if i got cheated on i would wonder where the fuck did i find this super villain 

heeseung: imagine cheaters have groupchats and when they’re picking their targets they’re like “tonight we steal ze moon!!” *in gru impression*

*the boys laugh harder, the topic they were talking about now completely lost*

jake: no i think that’s so accurate. i really do think it is like that

sunghoon: i think yeah i would drop the dude

heeseung: i agree 

jay: okay jake what the fuck are we building 

*the separate pieces now finished, the boys look at them in confusion. jake smiles and gestures them to slide it to him. he begins putting it together while the other are snacking. he hides the finished piece behind his back*

jake: okay guess what? 

heeseung: what?

jake: chicken butt!!! *jake pulls out the finished build behind his back and it is indeed a chicken butt* 

*the three of them stare in silence whilst jake laughs, completely losing his mind at the immature joke.* 

jay: is it too late to quit this podcast 

sunghoon: i’m right there with you 

heeseung: we’ve been here for like an hour and a half and you made us build one big gigantic chicken butt?!

jake: perhaps *giggle* 

sunghoon: how did you even find it 

jake: it’s off brand lego. they make them custom it takes months 

jay: you’ve been preparing this for MONTHS?!

jake: yes it’s literally perfect 

heeseung: oh my god 

sunghoon: ugh you’re so annoying 

jake: that’s a compliment. 

*jay looks at the build then starts laughing, heeseung and sunghoon laughing with him.*

jake: told you! 

heeseung: we should put it here in the room somewhere 

sunghoon: oh yeah i agree. 

jay: this was actually fun 

jake: oh wait guys give me a snack review 

heeseung: umm okay. i think the chips were an 8/10 i don’t enjoy honey mustard chips but they were good. and the candies were also like a 7/10 

jake: i hate you okay next 

heeseung: what the fuck-

sunghoon: 0/10 for both because i paid 

jake: that’s just mean

sunghoon: im sorry?? you made me drive you and pay. which by the way am i taking you home 

jake: yeah.. can you please *he smiles at sunghoon*

sunghoon: of course. did you wanna get something to eat 

jake: ughh yeah 

jay: no fair why are you guys going out on a date without us

heeseung: yeah what the hell

jake: well because this is heeseungs house? and its not our fault you're here all the time jay 

sunghoon: i mean we could always just eat here. you okay with that? *sunghoon looks to jake and he nods*

heeseung: let’s just order food then. jay can pay

jay: what the fuck?

jake: not all of us have trust funds 

sunghoon: yeah

jay: i think heeseung should pay because he cut my paycheck

heeseung: you were late! you know the policy you goofball 

*jay starts laughing at heeseungs insult and heeseung laughs with him*

jake: they can’t be serious for two seconds

sunghoon: like you’re any different let’s just split 

jay: yeah okay fine 

jake: okay now rate my snacks jay!

jay: i think they were 10/10 and i love whatever jake gives me. 

jake: this is why you’re my favorite

jay: okay no i hate you

*heeseung and sunghoon laugh at jake’s expression*

jay: you’re weird about the whole girlfriend thing!

jake: hinge is restricting!! 

heeseung: okay just sign out god we can argue some other time 

jake: this is not arguing! this is healthy communicating take notes guys!

jay: false our relationship is nowhere near healthy he’s mean to me. *sunghoon and heeseung laugh some more, making jay laugh with them*

jake: *speaking louder over all of the laughing* okay well thanks for joining us today at round table, please like share and comment on this video and we’ll see you guys next week! bye bye!! 

previous masterlist next

AUTHORS NOTE » got carried away.. as always. this chapter may seem filler ish but i wanted you all to get to know round table and their silly selves a bit better 😕 pls don’t hate them guys

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[saviorellie]

roommate!ellie headcannons.

pairing : ellie williams x reader

pov : second person , she/her pronouns

warnings : mention of porn i guess? college!ellie!! she’s got a big fat crush on you

notes : PLEASEEE send me headcannon and blurb requests for ellie (AND ABBY)!!

roommate!ellie that you met in a facebook group (she promptly deleted facebook as soon as you met)

roommate!ellie who refuses. and i mean re fuses. to do laundry.

she hates it oh my god she hates it. she does dishes, you do laundry. that is the agreement!

roommate!ellie who does not care what the place looks like, please take all creative control. she’ll love it regardless

she WILL kick ice under the fridge no matter how many times you tell her not to

roommate!ellie who would rather die than forget to water your plants. because she knows you love them and she KNOWS you will forget

she’s so “dad who says he doesn’t want a cat but loves that cat more than himself”

(the cat’s name is star. i will not elaborate.) (savage starlight.)

roommate!ellie who introduced you to fortnite and is mad because you’re better than her

roommate!ellie whose love language is physical touch

she will Die if your legs aren’t in her lap while watching a movie. she will sit on the counter beside the stove if you’re cooking.

roommate!ellie is a LOOOOSERRRRR

i’m talking sweating when you’re wearing pajama shorts, shaking when you play with her hair, blushing like all the fucking time.

she needs you bad.

roommate!ellie who turns into a handyman any time something breaks (she will break it more than it was already broken)

she was laying on the kitchen floor tiles when she accidentally broke the ac

roommate!ellie who refuses to let you buy groceries

“i eat more than you anyway” “you pay for the netlifx and the disney+” “let me sugar momma you”

roommate!ellie who will get on. All fours. if she comes home from work or class and you’re cooking or you made dinner for her.

(please please please be her housewife) (omg who said that?!)

roommate!ellie who puts cream and sugar in her coffee even though she likes black the best

because she knows she won’t finish the mug but you will and you like cream and sugar

roommate!ellie who is actually not! an astronomy major! she’s a paleontology major for sure

roommate!ellie who spends every paycheck she gets on 1. groceries and 2. random little trinkets she knows you’ll like

the sonny angel collection is crazy (thank you ellieeee :P)

roommate!ellie who can not stop giving you weird nicknames

“sweet girl” “angel” yeah yeah the normal ones but why is she calling you “beef” and “charcuterie board”

roommate!ellie was the first person you smoked with and she almost cried because she felt so bad when you greened out

her music taste is so. Bad (comedically, she actually has really good music taste)

“ellie if you play mask by dream one more time i’m going to [TRAIN PASSES BY]”

roommate!ellie (loser) who says “can i put my minecraft bed next to yours” LOSER

roommate!ellie who is So fucking smart but she pretends to not know what’s going on in her classes so you will sit next to her and your upper arm will touch hers as you help her

roommate!ellie who has to be constantly reminded to close her bedroom door at night

“i don’t know if you’re getting laid or watching p*rn but Hey close the door”

(you’re not jealous. why would you be jealous? it’s not like you like ellie or anything so if she’s getting laid why would it matter you don’t-)”

:0

roommate!ellie who worships the ground you walk on

do Not try on a dress or a skirt or a cropped shirt in front of her because she will pass out and d*e

stuttering and shit when you ask about her day (say it with me) (loooserrrr)

roommate!ellie who will Not hang up the phone or say goodbye without saying “love you”

cuz she does :,) she loves you :,)

don’t say “love you too” though because she will overthink it and stress herself out to tears

roommate!ellie who annoys dina so bad with how much she talks about you

“i was talking to y/n and she said” “y/n really likes this show” “y/n said that we should”

“oh my job just fuck already”

ellie’s best friend!dina who will look over you and at ellie and mouth “kiss her!!!”

and you’re clueless obviously

[elegantgardenrunaway]

Mouthwashing headcannons:

Tulpar crew x Robot!reader

A/N: In my mind, robo-reader is more like those robots don't really look a lot like humans (like, they have the basic form and that's it), but you can imagine them as you wish.

Warnings: Grammar mistakes (English is not my first language), Jimmy; suspicious behavior coming from the mentioned, I clearly don't know about robotics, romantic relationships not specified.

Anya

To be honest she was a little uncomfortable with you. Acting stiff and on guard around you.

Like most of the crew members.

You usually help her with menial tasks such as organizing the nursery or getting reports done as your purpose (at least the outspoken one) is to assist the crew with their tasks with the best of your abilities.

... And no, she's not nervous you can give reports to their superiors back on earth.

As time passes, she begins to get used to your presence and even enjoy it.

You give her a lot of book recommendations to read for when she returns to earth, even though she doesn't exactly have the money to buy them, she still appreciates it.

But what she appreciates more is that you often help her to prepare for her next attempt to get into medical school, encouraging her to pursue her dreams.

It might sound crazy, but she sometimes thinks that, beyond the code that makes you a dutiful machine, you actually have a mind on your own.

Because she has a feeling no robot that belongs to a corporation like pony express is as servicial and loyal as you.

Anya and Daisuke make their own doodles of you, and if you don't have a lot of human appearance then they often come up with ideas about how you would look if you were a human and make sketches to show you so you could give your opinion on them.

Some of those sketches survived the crash.

Daisuke

If he thought the cryopods were cool, then he went absolutely insane when he saw you.

Like, come on! You are a robot! And you can talk and make super cool stuff hyper mega awesome stuff right?

He made you and Swansea a lot of questions non-stop for days, giving the later a massive headache. But that's not something new.

You help him a lot with his internship, something like his second teacher, but less grumpy and not human.

You are not perfect though. You overwhelmed the poor guy with information the first day to the point you ended up saying stuff that not even Swansea understood.

So you also had to learn a lot of how human learning worked, adjusting your "classes" according to the interests, necessities and skills of your pupil.

Actually, you learn a lot of how to be human with Daisuke. Or at least the age group he belongs to.

You begin to use a lot of the language and body language that he has been teaching you.

Swansea is tired.

Daisuke can do basic stuff for your maintenance. You offered to give him a lesson about how you work, but Swansea would rather not his paycheck removed should something happen to you.

Believes you could rebel against humans or so he says. He has made you promise not to go against the crew, or his parents, or the friends he has on earth... Or maybe the whole human population if possible.

Swansea

Honestly, rather than stealing his job or something you are giving him more work to do.

As if he didn't have enough with having to take care of that kid.

If it wasn't obvious, the mechanic is basically your nurse, the one that makes most of your maintenance.

Your charging station (if you have one) is definitely in utility.

You are his assistant when giving lessons to Daisuke. But once you took it too far and ended up babbling nonsense that Swansea is not even aware of.

You often hear him mumble things while he makes your maintenance, sometimes says things about his family, sometimes about his job and one or two about his life before Pony Express.

Honestly if he doesn't believe you have your own conscience, then he sometimes forgets it.

You had heard his playlist the most, I just know it.

Or if you have a radio or speaker or something he'll make you put on his playlist.

He trusts that you take care of Daisuke when he's not around.

Jimmy (Yes, we have to address him unfortunately)

Definitely makes you some (maybe a lot) of his work and he excuses it as having something more urgent to do (spoiler: he doesn't) so you don't have to ask questions.

Searches for loopholes in your programming so he can do whatever he pleases without having to worry about you making a report for the big guys. But if not, he's willing to do more.

Would he risk actually messing with your mechanism/code so he could get whatever he wants? Definitely.

If anything, Swansea would be the one who has to deal with any "memory failure" you present.

Secretly unnerved by you.

Contrary to the other crew members, he doesn't address you as a person, often referring to you as an object, a machine or his favorite; "that thing".

Takes advantage of the fact that you don't really don't know that much about humans.

Doesn't think you have a conscience. You are a machine, a tool. Nothing more.

Unless he pushes hard enough, that is.

Curly

Wasn't very happy to have you on board to be honest, but it was mandatory from the higher positions.

Though he makes sure that he doesn't say anything inadequate in front of you, still in guard for the most part.

He just sees you as one of the most efficient things that pony express had given in all these years.

He thinks you are more thoughtful than he expected coming from a product of pony express.

Or maybe, just maybe he sometimes sees you as another (human) member of the crew.

But that just doesn't happen very often.

He's amused when you start to copy some of the other's mannerisms and try to blend more within the crew.

[dannys-dream]

Invisible String - Jake Kiszka x f! Reader - Chaper One - Series

You’re just a small town girl who always had big dreams of living in Nashville. You hoped your music would get you out of your hometown, and your dreams were finally coming true. You knew you had your best friend, your music, and a new guitar to take you through the new life ahead of you. What you didn’t know was what and who this new adventure would bring you. Used to beach town life, could you adjust to the big city and the big names attached to it? 

Warnings : None this chapter :)

Authors Note : This is something I’ve had in the works for a little while now. I hope you enjoy this series. Please let me know if you have any suggestions, or if you’d like to be added to a tag list! <3

・。・゜✭・・✫・゜・。・。・゜✭・・✫・゜・。・。・゜✭・・

You couldn’t believe it was actually happening. After years of coffee shop shows, bar performances, and the occasional birthday party or wedding, you were finally moving to Nashville. A dream since you were just a kid, stuck in a small beach town tucked away in the outskirts of Washington. You’d saved every penny from your gigs, giving guitar lessons to the neighborhood kids, and everything you could spare from your 9-5 paychecks. You checked your bank account religiously, waiting for the day you’d finally saved enough. All you needed was a few months rent, and the money to put gas in the U-Haul, yours and Cam’s home for the 36 hour drive. 

Cam had been your best friend since middle school. An absolute force to be reckoned with at your dodgy little public schools. You trusted her with your life, and believe me when I say there were plenty of times you’d gotten in enough trouble to prove you could. The day you told her you’d started saving to move, she started saving too. She told you that you'd have a piece of home with you down in the south, and she couldn’t bear the idea of not seeing you all the time. You thanked God every day since. You couldn’t imagine not living side by side with her either. So the two of you packed everything you owned into a little U-Haul, and drove away from the only place you’d ever known. Away from your families and friends who all waved and cheered you on as you pulled out of the driveway. 

“I can’t stop laughing, oh my god y/n. I can’t breathe. Why were they waving us off like it’s the ancient times and we’re setting sail on the Titanic or something?” She was cackling in the passenger seat, resting one hand on her stomach as she fanned herself with the other.

“Camille, be nice. They just love us.” A chuckle leaving your mouth as you merge onto the highway. You slide your phone to Cam across the bench seat and tell her your passcode. “Put our playlist on. I’m not driving all day without music, you freak.” You roll the windows down and step on the gas as Journey begins to spill from the speakers. 

・。・゜✭・・✫・゜・。・。・゜✭・・✫・゜・。・。・゜✭・・✫・゜・。・゜✭・・✫

Day three of driving, your last day. The two of you had fought about pretty much everything, music, who was driving, what hotel or motel you’d sleep in, what was for lunch or dinner. There were good times too, though. Sightseeing, weird rest stops, having to pull over on the highway so Cam could pee because she absolutely couldn’t hold it in until the next bathroom (something you’d be sure to tease her about for the rest of your lives). None of that seemed to matter when the U-Haul was finally parked in your new driveway. A small 2 bedroom brick home stared back at you as you started unloading your things, the emerald green door waiting for your keys. 

“Hey C, I think we should unpack everything and then I can go return the U-Haul. I wanna get it over with sooner rather than later.” Yelling across the lawn, she agreed. You quickly passed boxes to her, not that there were too many in the truck. Finally empty, you and Camille headed inside to start unpacking boxes. You got your room set up enough to sleep in tonight, and told Cam you were headed out to return the U-Haul. You pulled out of the driveway, your favorite song playing as you turned out of the neighborhood, that is until your phone started ringing. Oh great, it’s your mother. 

“Hi momma, we just got to the house! We’re finally home.” Your mother was so excited for you to get out of Washington, even if it meant being almost across the country from her. 

“Hi baby! I’m so glad you girls made it safe. I just wanted to call because I have a gift for you.” Your mom couldn’t help but let out a choked sob. “You worked so hard to get out there, you saved so much money. Your dad and I wanted to get you something special.” 

“Mom, you’ve got me worried. Why’re you crying?” 

“Nothing wrong, y/n. We saved up some money for you to get a new guitar. A special one for your new life, in your new town. I just transferred you the money, my love.” 

“We’ve never been more proud to be your parents.” Your dad chimed in, the pride and sadness of your move evident in his voice.

Tears streamed down your face as you thanked them, and promised to send pictures when you picked out your new guitar. You wrapped up the phone call, thanking her once more, right as you pulled into the U-Haul parking lot. You paid for your rental, and called an Uber, deciding to have it take you to a small local guitar shop. Ramblr’s Music. Repairs, sales, lessons. On top of getting a new guitar, who knows. Maybe you could score a job there. 

A silver Honda pulled up next to you, and confirmed they were your Uber. As you slid into the backseat, you heard the music. A major guitar solo was playing, and it was stunning . Leaning forward and squinting your eyes you could see what it was. Greta Van Fleet. You made a mental note to check them out later, and made small talk with the Uber driver until you found yourself walking up to the little music shop. You’d barely been in Nashville five hours, and your life would already never be the same.

・。・゜✭・・✫・゜・。・。・゜✭・・✫・゜・。・。・゜✭・・✫・゜・。・。・゜✭

You’d been perusing the guitars for over an hour, but none of them felt right. You knew they were fine instruments, they just weren’t your dream guitar. They weren’t a vintage Les Paul SG. You’d wanted one for years, since you’d taken your music seriously. The shape, the sound. Something so classic and beautiful that the modern re-releases just couldn’t quite compare to. Fully knowing it was out of your budget, you decided to ask someone anyway. You found yourself walking toward the desk, a short kid maybe 17 standing there on his phone. 

“Hey, I’ve been looking around and I don’t see what I was hoping to find. Do you maybe have any Les Paul SG’s?  Maybe one in the back, or do you know where I could find one? I’m new in town and don’t really know where to look.” You let out a small laugh, immediately feeling out of your element. 

“Actually, yeah. We’ve got one in the back that I guess has been on hold or something but it’s been weeks and the guy never came to get it. It’s in a case and everything, too. Let me go get it.” Popping his gum as he walked away, your heart was pounding. Were you actually about to buy your dream guitar? Something about Nashville was proving to be magical. 

He came back, a busted black leather hard case in hand. “Here, look it over. I think it's a ‘61 but I could be wrong. Just started working here last week.” The clasps clanked as you pulled them up and off, finally lifting the lid to the case. There she was. A beautiful cherry stain on the wood, new strings and a crack down the bottom half of the guitar, only adding personality and proof the instrument was well loved prior to you.  You carried the guitar over to an amp, plugging it in and sitting on the stool. You wrestled to figure out what song to play, finally deciding on one of the songs you’d put time into learning. Nothing Else Matters, your fathers favorite Metallica song. You’d spent hours learning to play it for him, and could remember the tears in his eyes when you finally showed him. A fond memory you now shared with your dream guitar. God, it played like perfection. You knew there was no way you’d walk out of this store without the cherry red beast. 

You walked back to the counter and safely secured the guitar into the case after taking a photo. The new kid checked you out, enabling a purchase you probably shouldn’t have made. You ordered an Uber, and slipped into the backseat with your new baby. 

・。・゜✭・・✫・゜・。・。・゜✭・・✫・゜・。・。・゜✭・・✫・゜・。・。・゜✭

Jakes POV

Tour had been beyond exhausting. You loved playing, you loved the fans, you loved seeing the different states and countries. The only thing you loved more? Being at home, in bed with some popcorn and whiskey, watching a documentary on pirates. Especially on a fine Wednesday night such as this. Finally rolling out of bed for the first time in hours, your slippers pull you down the stairs and into the kitchen in search of food more filling than the snacks upstairs. Regrettably, you hadn’t gone grocery shopping in some time, simply surviving on what was left in your pantry before you left on tour. A groan leaves your chest as you trudge back upstairs. Slipping on your favorite blue jeans and a button up, you find your car keys and make your way to the jeep sitting in your garage. You decided that while you were out, you might as well run the rest of the errands you’d been neglecting in lieu of alone time. 

Your favorite playlist queued, and sunglasses pressed to your face, you pulled out of the garage and headed off to Ramblr’s. Your beloved guitar had taken far too much of a beating this last leg, and a crack appeared down the body. You had held her together for the last few shows using some electrical tape, the best thing you could get your hands on while on the road. On the way home from the airport, you dropped your guitar off to be repaired, only trusting Scott, the store owner, to repair your precious cargo. You rolled your car windows up, and hit your vape one last time before getting out and heading to the building. The second the shop doors opened, an uneasy feeling washed over you as the sounds of Scott screaming at some teenager filled your ears. 

“Are you fucking stupid, or are you dumb Jeremy? No, you know what you are? Fucking fired. Get out of my shop!” Scott pushed over a small display of guitar straps and stomped off, leaving who you assumed was Jeremy in a crumpled sobbing mess on the floor. You walked over to him, and crouched down. 

“Hey, Jeremy. Whatever’s going on, it’ll be okay. I’m Jake, and I’ve known Scott a real long time. I’m sure he’s just having a rough day. Let me go talk to him.” 

Jeremy looked back at you in horror, and pushed himself away. “I’m so sorry sir. I’m so sorry.” He picked himself off of the floor, and bolted outside, not even bothering to collect his personal items or clock off. You weren’t sure what happened, but you knew it couldn’t be good. 

You made your way to the back, where Scott’s office was and tried your best to mentally prepare yourself for whatever shit storm he was about to drop on you. You cleared your throat, and Scott’s eyes shot up to meet yours. His appearance disheveled, and tears of frustration threatened to fall down his face. 

“Ah, shit. Hey kid. Come in, have a seat.” He motioned to the chair across from his desk. You shuffled over, and pulled the chair out before sinking into the plush cushion. He avoided eye contact with you, which was very unusual. You also noted him picking at his nails, something he did when stressed. 

After a few minutes of silence, you decided to bite the bullet. “Give it to me straight, Scotty. What the hell is going on?” 

His head dropped in shame, and he took a deep breath before shakily answering you. “Jake, that stupid new kid. He sold your guitar.”

Your blood ran cold, and suddenly all you saw was red. “Scott you’re fucking joking, right? Don’t fuck with me. Bring me my guitar.” 

He shoved the paperwork towards you, all of it showing the colossal fuckup Jeremy had made. “I wish it was a joke, Jake. But the kid sold her off to some girl who came in a few hours ago. I don't even know how he screwed this up so bad.”

You ran a hand through your hair, and sighed. “Make me a copy of this. I’m gonna go find her.”

”I already tried the number Jake. She wont pick up.”

You stood from the chair and looked down at him. “Scott, just make me a damn copy.”

He left the room, and came back with the papers for you and continued to apologize profusely as you walked out of the store. The rain soaked your clothes as you walked to the car, your breath visible in the cold weather. 

The paperwork told you basically nothing. Just her name, and an out of state phone number. The kid didn’t even fully fill out the sale paperwork, leaving the address and email slots bare. You got in the car, phone number in hand and hoped and prayed that she hadn’t left town. That guitar was your prized possession, the best gift you’d ever received. You’d been beyond floored when the Chicago Music Exchange let you have it, free of charge. And now, you had no idea where she was. 

You took a shaky breath, and dialed the number. It didn’t even ring. You’d immediately been sent to voicemail, and the default one at that. You brought your hands to your face, and rubbed your eyes. How could Scott let this happen?

・。・゜✭・・✫・゜・。・。・゜✭・・✫・゜・。・。・゜✭・・

End of first chapter <3

TAGLIST : @hollyco @literal-dead-leaf @anythingforjtk @do-it-jakey-baby @eternal-life94

[respectthepetty]

The people at Idol Factory earn their paychecks AND deserve raises!

Who else is giving me great shots like above or of Kim not being seen as an actual person in the first half of episode four?

She doesn't even see herself!

She never takes a second to focus on herself.

Because even as she leaves, all her focus is on Wan, which is where her focus has always been!

Even homeboy's drone didn't see Kim, but it was great that he was introduced much MUCH higher than her since it seems like he owns the resort, the bar, the gallery, and who even knows what else.

Even when Kim is confronted with some hard truths about Wan never being able to follow through with her promises, KIM STILL DOESN'T LOOK IN THE MIRROR! She is not having a Hot Girl Summer, yet refuses to *reflect* on the reasons why she is not living her best life.

Thanks to her buddy, she getS some clarity, but per usual, Idol Factory puts the focus back on funky sex, and I love that for us.

But while Kim refuses to have a Come to Jesus moment, Wan is being confronted with some hard truths of her own, like her mama gotta a drinking problem.

But her mother is quick to slap people in her defense, so she gets my approval. Sidenote: They go to IDF = Idol Factory School where the the motto is "Knowledge Make Dream Come True" and once they realize they love each other, their dreams will come true . . . literally. *gasp*

Back to the drinking problems! Kim choosing a blue drink when that is one of Wan's colors as she was missing her girl was *chef's kiss*

But the fact that she went from blue light to pink light as she decided to drink the red strawberry margarita instead of her original drink when one of her colors is pink WAS EVEN BETTER since she is starting to pick herself over Wan! This is how you get nominated for a Colors Award.

Also, I do not care how many times Heng plays the disruptor, I will always enjoy him, and I especially like him as Mawin because he immediately appreciates Kim the way she deserves with her tiny lies about not being drunk.

But back to the ladies and colors! As I thought, in the dream world, Wan is in black.

And Kim shows up in white.

But I liked the fireworks showing "Sorry" yet Kim not taking the apology like she usually does.

Because even though they have been through a lot, and Wan used to show up for her, now Wan is all about herself.

I did enjoy the flashback scenes in general since they are wearing crowns with blue and pink jewels.

I'm making no comment about the Pink Box though.

But I am going to state that this blue candy cane dress is fugly just like Wan's wild ass decision to tell Mawin to NOT hire Kim.

However, Kim is in a floral print and they're standing next to Anastasia Balabina's painting of the Redhead Girl and Butterflies, so Kim is ready to spring from her cocoon and be the beautiful butterfly she was meant to be.

So the only butterflies Wan will be left with are the ones on her ears.

And her body

Because the color-coded girl she loves is about to spread her wings and FLY AWAY!

Alexa, play Mariah Carey's "Butterfly"!

[homeofthelonelywriter]

Drawn to you | Pt. 4

(A/N) This one's a bit shorter, but I hope you like it! Also, thank you so much for 2500 Followers!!! Aaaahhhh I love all of you so much!

Pairing: Alastor x bunny demon!Reader (no Y/N)

Warnings: flashback to life on earth, sexism

Synopsis: Your life back on Earth.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

Earth - 1920

“You’re late.”

You raised your head to look into the glaring eyes of your boss. The fat, old man regarded you with a scowl before turning around and stomping towards his office.

“I-I’m sorry Sir. The bus was full, so I had to wait for the next one, and-”

He turned to face you again, his face red with anger.

“I don’t care! You are paid to be here on time! The next time you’re late, I’ll cut it from your paycheck, understood?”

You frantically nodded while holding your breath. Pointing out that you were actually twenty minutes early and just ten minutes late from your usual thirty minutes early, would just enrage the man even more.

With another huff, the man walked into his office and slammed the door, making you jump at the sudden, loud noise. You sighed and quietly made your way to your workstation, where you sat up for the day. You smiled at your colleagues that passed and led pleasant small talk with the ones that stopped for a chat. But the whole day went by without you seeing your favorite person even once.

Not that he had to stop by or anything, but he sometimes did and those were always the best moments of the day. He held such a passion for this job, it always infected you, made you hold on to the dream of one day being a host yourself.

But in your heart, you knew that that dream was foolish. A woman? A radio host? That would never happen. If you were lucky, maybe you could become the secretary, but your voice would never be aired live. At least not in this century.

With a sigh, you got to work. You quickly wrote up the weather report for the day, before handing it over to your boss, who would give the final go. After that you filed through letters and parcels, delivering them to where they needed to go.

You were basically done with your day’s work and it wasn’t even time for lunch. So, you decided to work on your dream some more. Whenever you had free time, you’d type out what you would do if you were the host. Corny jokes and funny advertisements. You’d make a list of the songs you’d play and what you’d be talking about.

Your shoulders slumped as you finished your dream program, the realization that that would never happen, catching up to you. Sometimes you wondered if playing into the dream made reality harder to bear. You still continued your wishful thinking, lost in a dream where you were calling the shots and where you would yell at fat, old men.

Two hands suddenly covering your eyes pulled you back to reality and a grin took over your lips.

“Guess who?”

You chuckled, trying to think of a witty response.

“Oh, Samantha, is that you?”

The laugh that escaped the man behind you made your heart race and butterflies erupt in your belly.

“Would you prefer it being Samantha?”

You shook your head with a smile and the hands lowered until they rested on your shoulders. With a wide grin, you spun in your chair, to come face to face with your favorite person.

“Now, how is my favorite lady doing?”

You rolled your eyes as he guided your right hand to his lips, before pressing a chaste kiss to your knuckles.

“Ah, you know, same old, same old. Got my work done within two hours, wrote down my concept for the day and it’s not even lunchtime, got yelled at by boss-man once again,-”

The usually smiling host’s expression hardened when you mentioned the fat, old man. He glared in the direction of his office. If looks could kill, that man would be dead.

“Someone ought to take care of that bastard.”

With wide eyes, you raised your hands against the man’s mouth to shush him.

“You can’t just say stuff like that. You’ll get fired.”

He turned back to you with his signature smile.

“If I were to get fired for protecting you, it would be worth it.”

You felt your cheeks heat up at his words and quickly lowered your head, a coy smile playing on your lips. Your reaction caused the man to chuckle, before carefully ruffling through your hair. A complaint crossed your lips at his action and he stopped with a playful laugh, before helping you to fix your hair.

“So, what’s on your agenda today?”

You grabbed the pieces of paper and went through the different points you had written up, ending on the big story you’d talk about, were you in any kind of position to.

“Congress is supposed to vote on the 19th amendment in a few days. I really hope it gets signed.”

The man nodded thoughtfully, taking notes in his head. He was about to say something when his name was called from the other end of the office space.

“Gotta run, will you tune in tonight?”

He was already walking away, still facing you.

“I always do.”

He grinned, before turning around and running to where he was being summoned, leaving you with a soft smile and a racing heart.

By the time you had to clock out, you were sure you were dying of boredom. It was bad enough that you had considered asking for more work, but thankfully you made it through the day without. You quickly put on your gloves and hat, before you left the radio station and made your way home.

As soon as you entered your apartment, you hurried to the old radio in your kitchen and turned it on, just in time to hear him introducing himself.

“Welcome ladies and gentlemen to the evening show. I’m your host, as usual, Alastor!”

Hell - now

“Why don’t you remember me?”

@impulsivethoughtsat2am @dasimp777 @fanficwriter5 @wonderlandangelsposts

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