#she’s lived an amazing life in my head

[sakorb]

so..hana! spectacular

[stabbyfoxandrew]

just got a notification from my phone calendar saying "It's almost alfo's birthday, do you want to plan something?"

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[comradecowplant]

my beef with Hughie being the most annoying part of The Boys ended, Kimiko & Frenchie reigniting their romance is my new The Boys best enemy 🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄

[boyswanna-be-her]

There's like a lot of backstory I don't feel like explaining but atm I'm losing where I live bc my mom doesn't like my life choices (volunteering, dating bfr), and the only way I can afford to move out is to rent a room with a stranger (provided i find someone with no pets who will let me have my cat, bc Mimi is aggressive with other pets sadly) or find a place to rent with BFR. And like, it's objectively stupid to move in with each other this fast but my options are such shit right now that it's looking like I'm willing to make this objectively stupid decision! Thanks mom! Really great work valuing my choices and helping me stay in the safe, stable housing i've had for the past FIVE years. Christ.

[houseofwolvess]

i am once again overwhelmed by love for humans as a whole

[like-sands-of-time]

Any house md fans that also read Cassandra Clares clockwork series? Because huddson (House, Cuddy, Wilson) reminded me of that dynamic quite a bit. House loves two people in his life, one he can love and spend a "lifetime" with, as Wilson dies from cancer. And the other, whom he can love and finish his life with after Wilson's gone.

Neither one is loved less and they both led their own lives, of course, but for better and mostly worse, they revolve around each other.

[cleolinda]

AITA for banning my husband and father in law from the delivery room due to their intensely stressful/creepy behavior during my pregnancy?

There’s a famous Reddit post from 2020 where a pregnant woman wrote that her husband and father-in-law were a little too comfortable with their certainty that she was absolutely going to die in childbirth just like her husband’s late mother. It was to the point where her FIL was insisting that she go ahead and put all her clothes into storage, because she was obviously going to die in the hospital and it would save them the grief of packing up her things afterwards. Like. It was WILD.

When I tell my husband [that she feels suspicious of her FIL], he calls me paranoid, but I feel like my FIL WANTS me to die; his whole life identity for the past 35 years has been “amazing single dad” (never dated or had close friends or even hobbies really), and it seems like he’s looking forward to being able to guide my husband through what he went through. At this point, I’d honestly be happy to never see my FIL again, and I certainly don’t want him in the delivery room, especially since he told me he was “putting [his] foot down” about me not being “allowed” to have an epidural…. My husband, in addition to backing his dad on everything, acts like my due date is my death date, and has completely pulled away from me.

The commenters (and me, honestly) were convinced that the husband and FIL were either going to kill her outright to fulfill this expectation, or just make decisions about her care that might conveniently let her die.

And then she never posted again.

Over the last four years, people have frequently mentioned that post, always leading to a thread of people saying, “Oh god, I still worry about that woman.” I did too. It became one of those famous unresolved posts that people always wondered about.

Until yesterday, when someone on r/BestOfRedditorUpdates dug up a 2022 update she had posted on a different account:

TLDR; I had a beautiful and healthy baby girl, and I divorced my ex-husband. I lived, obviously.

She writes that she put her foot down about having her own mother in the delivery room rather than her FIL (!), and she WOULD be getting an epidural. Her husband lost his shit. And in his outburst, he let slip--

I admittedly lost my temper, and told him that I wasn’t going to die- it wasn’t my fault his father’s trauma wormed it’s way into his head, and that he needed to fix it without taking it out on me. He yelled at me that he didn’t need therapy. That caught me a little off guard; I asked him why he went to his therapist and was given advice about my death if he felt he didn’t need it. His expression gave it away, and he caved not long after. It turns out there was no therapist. It was just his dad. During the times he was supposed to be at therapy, he was with his dad. I’m still fuming.

And that was when she got the fuck out.

I’ll wrap this up- I’ve got an adorable little toddler tugging at my leg atm. I’m alive, I’m happy, and I’ve got my baby in my arms. Life is good.

I truly never thought we'd see a resolution to this, and I feel like there's probably a good number of people who remember it, so I thought you might want to know.

ETA: Brilliantly, I put the link in at the top; here it is again for convenience.

[girlivealwaysbean]

slowly becoming everything i was afraid i would be: resentful and bitter

[causenessus]

eggy i regret never sending you an ask about this quote i found that immediately made me think of rot. i screenshotted it and i've had it in my images forever and i'm not sure why i never sent it to you (i think i was just scared of you disagreeing with it or something idk </3) but now that i've read this chapter (amazing, by the way) i feel like this poem excerpt encases this work so so well:

"cautiously, i allowed myself to feel good at times. i found moments of peace in cheap rooms just staring at the knobs of some dresser or listening to the rain in the dark. the less i needed the better i felt."

"let it enfold you" (charles bukowski)

(and i ran out of tag space so i came here to rant more so u may want to come back after reading the tags bc i just got sick of having to abide to the character limits when i have so much to say)

rot just feels like an entire universe and world of it's own and it is so so beautiful

like a completely different universe that i want to go to i don't know how to explain it

(and sorry if these tags sound off or dry or anything!! i just want to show how genuine and serious i am about the impact this fic has had on me and how good it is by not using caps and everything if that makes sense)

i should probably save something to say when i reblog the masterlist again but eggy i loved rot so much. it was so so good. you are such a talented writer you should be proud of this; of the work as a whole and every single chapter and how much thought you put into every word and part and how much your heart has gone into this. i love this work SO much i genuinely need to go onto one of those book websites and get this work printed out. i love the way that this fic had impacted me so much i feel like i see reminders of it everywhere, or open my window and think of the first chapter of rot, and y/n trying to open her window while she smokes. i love the way the word "rot" itself has continued to be so important to this work. how it appears everywhere, how it is a part of y/n. i loved seeing y/n's character develop throughout this work, how her mindset changed multiple times throughout her different jobs, and as she got closer to iwa, and then they seperated, and then the immediate way her life was bright again, warm despite the bitter winter outside because she was finally in his arms again, and she was home.

rot: h. iwaizumi

chapter six -> a promise

(masterlist ; written content)

word count: 2.7k

now playing: my hot piss by die spitz

Autumn cools everything down. The feverish sort of pain that made her almost delirious has chilled into a dull, steady ache. Kiyoko rests her head on her shoulder. They sit on the couch together, under a shared blanket, and watch old, cheesy horror movies. Every on-screen death makes Kiyoko flinch and hide her face under the blanket.

It’s odd, to be in her apartment, to have it be her own as well. Where the fridge is free of remnants of rotten food and is properly stocked with essentials. Where the furniture matches and there’s no stuffing spilling out of the cushioning. It’s small, and sometimes she has to fiddle with the pipes under the sink to avoid calling a plumber, but it’s nice. It’s well-kept and Kiyoko always has some kind of candle lit. The walls are white, just white, not stained yellow from years of cigarette smoking. The locks don’t look like they’re about to fall off the door. There’s no mold in the bathroom. No pest infestations. No decay in the hardwood floor.

It makes her feel so out of place.

“My parents helped with the deposit,” Kiyoko had explained to her, almost sheepishly, like this was something she should be ashamed of. “And with the first few months of rent while I built up some savings. It’s how I was able to get it.”

Her brother would’ve liked Kiyoko, she thinks. He would’ve liked her quiet demeanor, and the deliberate sort of way she carries herself. He would’ve liked how spending time with her is never overwhelming. He would’ve liked how her voice is like a small stream that runs down the street after a rainstorm.

They would’ve gotten along.

She has the thought that he would’ve hated Iwaizumi, and then tries to pretend that she didn’t.

Onscreen, a head is removed from a set of shoulders. She tries not to think of Iwaizumi. It makes her sick, even his name. Never once has she felt like she did the right thing. Kiyoko keeps telling her that sometimes, the right things hurt the most. But that doesn’t help. It doesn’t quell the nausea she feels at his memory. It doesn’t fade that dull, aching loneliness. It doesn’t make her feel better about leaving him.

Objectively, her life as improved post-Iwaizumi. She’s held onto the same job for several months in a row without incident (no spitting, cursing, or fighting-though that’s mostly due to Kiyoko). She actually has money in her bank account now, ¥50,901.96, after rent (which, isn’t a lot by any metric, but it’s definitely more than nothing). Her father stopped calling. Her diet is much more balanced. The cable’s better. She doesn’t really get mad anymore.

It's an improvement. A drastic one. Something she probably wouldn’t have been able to achieve on her own.

But it’s worse. It just feels worse.

Blood spews from a headless body, cartoonishly fake. Kiyoko squirms, and she doesn’t flinch.

★⋆. ࿐࿔

The bell on the door to the sports shop dings as the it closes, and a customer leaves with fresh tennis balls. She rests her cheek on the palm of her hand as she leans up against the counter. She’s drawing the earth as it explodes from the inside, splitting into dozens of chunks of land and ocean. “Who the fuck buys tennis balls in November?”

Kiyoko slides behind the counter to stand beside her, peering over her shoulder to watch her draw. “I dunno. Maybe he’s going somewhere warm,” she offers as a solution.

Kiyoko doesn’t hate people the way she does. She can’t ever hate someone just because she wants to; Kiyoko doesn’t ever want to. It makes her feel mean, since the feeling of hatred comes to her so naturally. “Yeah, maybe.”

“Noya thinks you’re cute,” Kiyoko says, suddenly stiffer when she talks. “He asked if you were going to go out with us tomorrow night.”

She doesn’t know who Noya is. She probably should. He’s probably someone that she’s met more than once. But she can’t conjure up the face that’s supposed to go with the name. “Which one’s he?” she asks, well past the point of caring if she seems rude to Kiyoko.

Kiyoko knows she’s rude, at this point.

“The short one,” she answers. “The one with the blond in his hair.”

Her pen digs into the notebook paper, adding shading around a blown-up chunk of earth. “Yeah, he’s cute, I guess.”

Kiyoko makes a noise of acknowledgement. “But you’re not into him.”

It’s not a question, so she doesn’t answer it. Kiyoko sighs, and rocks on her heel. “That’s fair. As long as it’s because you’re actually not into him, and not because you’re not over Iwaizumi.”

Hearing his name spoken so casually makes her flinch. Kiyoko notices and leans her head down on her shoulder. “Well, we’ll get there.”

★⋆. ࿐࿔

At her lowest point, she calls her father.

She dials his number so many times she loses track of it. She stares at the numbers for so long they start to lose meaning. When she closes her eyes, she sees them burned into the inside of her eyelids. She hits ‘call,’ and then hangs up, only to dial him right back up again.

She doesn’t know what she’s doing, and definitely not why. She just sort of acts, moved by impulse and a craving for something unknown.

It rings. It rings three times before he answers. His phone is gruff and worn on the other line. “Hello?”

Her hand slaps over her mouth, and she tries to quiet her breathing, like she’s hiding from him. Her eyes prick and burn. “Hello?” he repeats on the other end, more impatient this time. Her heart pounds like he’s just on the other side of the door. She doesn’t know what she’s doing.

“Fucking hell,” is the last thing she hears before the line goes dead. The phone clatters to the floor of her bedroom, and she cries. The first time she’s cried like this in months.

She really doesn’t know what she’s doing.

★⋆. ࿐࿔

Most of her time is spent lying in her bed, doing nothing, thinking about everything. Sometimes she goes along with Kiyoko when she goes out with her friends, and she sits in the corner and tries not to draw too much attention to herself. She hates that. Sometimes she tries to pick up extra shifts at work just to pass the time. She hates that too. Sometimes she goes to this cheap dive bar just two blocks away from her new apartment, just to have a drink or two in a place that’s not her bedroom.

She orders a second drink. It’s bone-chilling cold outside, and the alcohol makes her feel warmer. Just a bit. She thinks it’s sad that this is the most exciting part of her week.

At least the festering rot that tore her up from the inside was interesting. Now her life is boring and depressing.

The call of her name is sudden and jarring. She spins around in the barstool with an elevated heartrate and her fingers reaching for her keys. She doesn’t recognize him, at first. When her eyes first land on him, she continues looking for a second, before it catches up to her. Her heart leaps up to her throat. “Matsukawa?”

Matsukawa chugs, his head tilted back and his Adam’s apple bobbing, downing the pint until there’s nothing left but traces of white foam. Her fingers tap against her own glass, looking at the condensation that leaves a ring around the wooden bar. It reminds her of the plastic cups of coffee Iwa brought her daily. She didn’t drink coffee before that. Now every morning she finds herself crawling out of bed at eight in the goddamn morning, throwing on whatever clothes are on her floor so she can get to the closest coffee shop before it gets too busy.

“Is he over me yet?” she asks, tips of her fingers collecting droplets of condensation.

Matsukawa slams his glass down on the bar. “Nah.” He wipes his mouth with the back of his sleeve. “Not even a little. Iwa’ll never get over you.”

Her eyes roll. Matsukawa sees this and narrows his own. “Don’t think I don’t mean it.”

There’s an awkwardness that hangs between them. She takes a sip of her own drink and swishes it over her tongue, trying to distract from it. “He’s got a long time to.”

“Doesn’t matter. I know him. You were it.”

“Then he shouldn’t have left me.”

She says this, she realizes, with familiarity, the kind that no longer exists between her and Matsukawa. She hasn’t seen him since her father’s blood was on her hands. Any closes between them granted by the lifesaving has since evaporated, and now, they’re as good as strangers. At least to her.

Still, Matsukawa leans back in the bar stool. “Yeah, he probably shouldn’t have.”

She shifts in her seat uncomfortably. It would’ve been better if he argued. “Yeah,” is all she can manage, her fire dulled.

“You don’t look like you’re doing that much better than he is,” Matsukawa remarks, and she offers no reaction. It’s not like he’s wrong. “You two are both idiots. You’re perfect for each other.”

Her lip furls up. “You got a lot of fucking opinions on this.”

“Hard not to. Iwa’s heartbreak is everyone’s problem.”

Iwa’s heartbreak. She doesn’t like the implication of it. Like it’s just his. Like it’s nothing something he caused for her. Like it’s not something they share.

“C’mon,” Matsukawa says, hand clapping on her back, like he can see the thoughts brewing in her head, and he wants to cut her off before they can work their way over to him, “let me walk you home.”

He does. He walks her home and he talks about his recovery post-stabbing and he rants about Oikawa and he talks about this girl he’s been talking to that he’s not really that into and he talks about how good Makki’s been looking lately but he doesn’t ask about her and he doesn’t bring up Iwaizumi again.

At least that she’s grateful for.

And when he deposits her at her front door, he grins, and tells her that he’ll see her later.

★⋆. ࿐࿔

It’s snowing. She stands outside of his apartment, box in her hands and something caught in her throat. It’s been a few weeks since she’s seen Matsukawa, and she’s done little but think about him and what he said and fixate on it and let it gnaw away at her.

So she’s outside Iwaizumi’s apartment, snow getting stuck in her hair and fingers going numb.

Her list of problems doesn’t really exist anymore. They’re not as material, harder to pin down. Her anger issues have simmered down into this lethargic mood that has much less daily wear and tear. The split rent and the consistent income have dissipated the money problems. She doesn’t worry about things the way she used to. Things don’t really plague her the way they used to.

It’s really just him. It’s really just Iwaizumi.

She sighs. It was easier in her head. Everything’s always easier in her head.

Now that she’s here, all she can think about is everything that can go wrong. Matsukawa being wrong, and Iwaizumi being over her, so much so that he’s not even moved at the sight of her and there’s already someone else in there warming up her side of the bed. He could be working. He could hate her. It could go as badly as it did last time.

Kiyoko disapproved of the plan. Kiyoko wanted her to move on. She wanted her to find a life outside of Iwaizumi, purpose outside of him, drive outside of him.

But people like Kiyoko don’t get it. People like Kiyoko don’t know what it’s like to be infected with something so consuming and persistent and chronic. Kiyoko doesn’t get it. Iwaizumi gets it.

He gets it.

She inhales slowly, and forces herself to move forward.

Breaking into the front door of her old apartment building is something she’s done more times than she’s proud of. It’s oddly nostalgic to pop that old lock open, and it feels the same as she creeps up the stairs. It was like this when she first moved in. Bitter, winter air floating up the stairs like all the windows were left open. She remembers shaking as she hauled up trash bags of her belongings, and taking breaks to wrap herself up in the first blanket she could unpack.

She feels that way now as she stomps up the stairs, the bottom of her boots heavy against the wood. She wonders if he can hear her coming.

By the time she reaches the top of the stairs, her hands are trembling, and she’s slightly out of breath. She takes a moment to catch it before she’s shifting the box to hold in one hand, and she knocks. She does it before she has the chance to talk herself out of it.

The door swings open sooner than she thought it would, like Iwaizumi was just standing there on the other side, waiting for her. Waiting for her this whole time.

When she sees him, she holds her breath. She holds her breath as she counts the one, two three, four bruises and the one, two, three cuts that decorate his features. He’s paler than he was before. The bags under his eyes are darker.

Still, he looks pretty. She always thinks he looks pretty.

His reaction to her, standing at his doorstep after six months, is the same as his reaction to everything else. His brow slightly furrowed, mouth curled up in something that looks like annoyance. She’s not surprised when he doesn’t say anything.

“Um, hey,” is how she starts out. It makes her flinch. “I’m sorry to just like, pop up out of nowhere but, I just kinda wanted to see you. I, erm, I missed you. A lot.”

Iwaizumi says nothing to this either. She feels oddly like she is shooting herself in the foot, and she loses the ability to look him in the eye.

“I feel really bad about how everything went down,” she confesses, now staring at her shoes. He’s still looking at her, she can feel it. “I’ m not proud of the things I said or how I acted. I don’t-I don’t hate you, not at all.”

She thinks she can see his chest rise and fall with heavy, deliberate breaths. But she’s not sure. Could be imagining it. The corners of her vision are starting to blur. She holds the box up to him.

A CD player. Brand new. The same one he got her.

“I got you this. As a sorry. I felt like shit for breaking the one you got me. I feel like shit for a lot of it, but that gift meant a lot to me. Just like you do. And I break things a lot and I have a lot of issues and I don’t think you-“

She does not get to finish her sentence. Iwaizumi grabs her by the arm and pulls her into her chest. The force knocks the box out of her hands, and CD player slams to the ground between them. Before she can realize what’s happened, her feet are hovering above the floor, and Iwaizumi’s arms are tight around her.

It’s automatic, the way she returns the embrace. Her arms snake around his middle, and she leans her head against his chest. She started crying at one point, without realizing it.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Iwaizumi says, pressing his face into the top of her head, lips kissing her hair between words. “You have no fucking idea how sorry I am.”

She does, because she feels it. It gnaws away at her chest the same way it does to his. She shakes her head. “I get it,” she tells him. “I know it.”

“Please say,” Iwaizumi pleads. “Please. I would do anything for you to stay.”

If she were someone like Kiyoko, she would say no. She would leave. She wouldn’t have ever come back. Because she knows, she knows that Iwaizumi is not going to change. He’s not going to become someone different overnight, or over six months, or a year or a dozen. Iwaizumi is always going to be who he was the day that she met him.

People like your father only care about one thing. And it’s not you, and it’s not me.

She holds onto him tighter, and thinks that that’s okay. She is too. “I’ll stay,” she promises. “I’m not going anywhere.”

an: ok let’s try this again

taglist: @wyrcan @thechaosoflonging @localgaytrainwreck @cherrypieyourface @eclecticeggknightpsychic @httpakkeiji @does-directions @needtoloveoutloud @causenessus @kawaii-angelanne @thatonecroc @v1oletfury @lonesomedrive @nnnyxie @pinkiscool @michivrse @cannibalsrider @kmwife @k8nicole @oikasenpai @fennecnco @riousluvs @bellamsby @rinheartshyunlix @bae-ashlynn @ephemeralninon @fangsbb @plumarbre @v-e-r-t21 @snail-squasher @seroh @mfcherry @canthavetoomuchchaos @ange1icarch1ve @applepi25 @wqnsho @19calicos @girlkissersco @Lisoozi @bailey-reeds @kitskasoboring @iluvaquaphor @lllaw @kinsies-blog @1lovestrawberrymilk

[yuukiiqwq]

Satoru is the type to get jealous over little things because he just wants you all to himself. Right now, he's sulking on the couch. Why, you may ask? Let's rewind a bit.

When you finally moved into Gojo's house, you got a cat. No, you didn't adopt one. It was Gojo. He came back one day with a cat.

"Toru. Why are you holding a cat?"

"Excuse you! His name is Fluffball!" He huffed. "And starting today, he's living with us!"

You blinked at him. Did he just name the cat Fluffball? What kind of name is Fluffball??

"Satoru Gojo."

He flinched at you, calling him by his full name. His brain instantly went into danger mode and activated his secret weapon.

"He'll keep you company whenever I go on missions!" He said as he gave you the puppy eyes. "And isn't he adorable?"

You bit the bottom of your lip. This was cheating. He knew that you couldn't resist. You don't mind adopting a cat... but out of nowhere? Do you trust yourself with taking care of a pet?

You sigh as you gave in. You couldn't say no. The cat was adorable after all...

"Fine. We can keep him."

His eyes instantly lighted up as he smiled down at the cat in his arms.

"You hear that Fluffball? She said yes!" He spins around with the cat, causing the cat to let out a series of meows.

You shaked your head from his antics. "Stop spinning the poor cat. And we will not be calling him Fluffball."

Thus causing Satoru to whined immediately. After all, in his opinion, Fluffball was a great name!

That was a few weeks ago. Now, back to the present. You ended up adoring the cat. Which is fine and all, but you've been paying attention to the cat more than Gojo lately. Like he's right here next to you, and instead of cuddling him, you're cuddling that cat.

And the name you came up with for the cat? Even worse. You took his nickname and gave it to the cat.

How did he find out? Well, it started with you asking for the cat to come over to you.

"Toru, come here," you called.

Satoru immediately came to your side, but you had a look of confusion, thus causing him to become puzzled himself.

"Satoru, why did you come over?

"You called for me! Obviously, I came to your side as fast as possible!"

You narrowed your eyes at him. "I was not calling for you. I was calling for Toru." You motioned your hand towards the cat that came over. You immediately picked him up and covered him with kisses.

He was absolutely confused, and it wouldn't be the last.

Out of nowhere, all the nicknames you would call him would go straight towards the cat. No, he was no longer Toru. Or Babe. Or Darling. Or Baby. Or love of my life. Or beautiful dashing amazing boyfriend. He was just Satoru.

He regrets ever bringing that cat home. So what did he do? Well... he called Suguru for a favor.

The next day, when you came home calling for the cat, no noise was heard. You searched all throughout the house but didn't find the cat anywhere. Then you heard the front door unlocking and Satoru walking in with the biggest smile.

"Satoru, do you know where Toru is?"

He walked up to you and immediately wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you close.

"Satoru?"

"Well... I invited Suguru over while you were out, and Suguru just fell in love with the cat."

"What?"

"He wanted to bring him to his house for a few days! He said something about how he adores that little thing and wanted to spend a lot, and I mean a lot of time with him!"

You immediately knew something wasn't right. There was no way Suguru would do something like that.

You sternly repeated his name– "Satoru."

You stared him in the eyes, waiting for him to tell you the truth.

"Fineeeeee. I called Suguru for a favor," he whined as he nuzzled against your neck. "You're spending too much time with Fluffball! You're forgetting your amazing boyfriend!

"I am not forgetting you, Satoru. We literally live together. You're insufferable, and like you said, you're my boyfriend. I can't forget you that easily. And his name is not Fluffball."

"Oh, so now you remember your poor lonely boyfriend! Don't lie to me!" He huffed at you. "You're calling that cat by my nicknames! What happened to calling me Toru! Or baby! Or my beautiful dashing amazing boyfriend!"

"I have never called you by that last one in my life," you said as you rolled your eyes at him. "Are you really jealous of a cat, Satoru?"

He leaned into you, putting all his weight on you. He was basically crushing you as he continued his whining.

"So what if I'm jealous! You're not paying any attention to me! I thrive off of attention! Especially yours!"

You chuckled at his response.

"There's nothing to be jealous of Satoru. How can I make up for your horrible suffering?"

You felt the instant regret the second those words left your lips. You see the way his eyes get clouded with lust as you feel one of his hands trail up your thigh.

"Oh, you'll make it up to me, alright," he whispered in your ear. "At the end of this, the only thing you'll be able to think of is me and my cock."

He then pulled you into a hungry and greedy kiss. He kissed you like he had been deprived of you for years. And in his opinion, he has.

You only noticed you're in the bedroom once you felt the soft mattress behind you. You don't recall how he brought you into the bedroom. All you know is that you're in for a very long night because he's not letting you go anytime soon.

[agatharkn3ss]

Nicky's Rio son too.

I feel there were so many lines that imply this and the finale is starting to make more sense - especially because the dandelion in the trial!

Jen explains that Green Craft™ is about the cycle of all living things - growth and decay in constant flow. So it's not just about dying but being born too.

So it would track that Rio's love for Agatha was so strong that it actually created life - Nicky. However, there would be consequences to this because proper balance had to be maintained somehow. Rio probably even warned Agatha about it, but Agatha always believes she is above the rules so in her head she probably thought she had every right to Nicky (maybe even her "prize" that she alludes to in their final confrontation). This would really add to Rio's hurt - Nicky was her son too. She thought she was giving Agatha a gift of life, but instead Agatha sees her as this cruel "evil" that "gave her nothing". To her Rio is the one who just "took."

It feels like it is also implied by Rio at the start of the episode when she says "This walk with another woman's son on a road that doesn't...". She could be referring to Nicky being her son.

But I think Agatha finally accepts her truth during the final trial when she sees the dandelion seed in her cameo. She even says "Out of Death - life" as she grows it because she finally understands the literal implications of that phrase.

That Dandelion is representation of Nicky. And sure enough, as soon as the flower grows and blossoms, it quickly enters the final stage - when it turns into the seeds that can be scattered by the wind again and continue the cycle of life. Because guess what, "dandelions produce seeds asexually by apomixis, where the seeds are produced without pollination, resulting in offspring that are genetically identical to the parent plant".

When Nicky is born, we could probably assume it was indeed asexual reproduction - Agatha says she didn't use a spell or incantation, but instead he was made from scratch (obviously a clever nod to his name). On one hand it could be read like Agatha is astonished how something this magical could happen without actually using any witchcraft. However, this also feels like a suggestion that maybe she is just amazed at how he could possibly exist. Kathryn Hahn in her recent interview alluded to how the witches didn't need men, babies were just born. So it was Rio's "dandelion seed" that made it happen.

It is the second characteristic of dandelion species is what seals the deal for me - "the offspring being genetically identical to the parent plant". Nicky as the offspring of Death needs bodies to survive in this realm. During his birth Rio says she can offer only time, because she can maintain the balance, as long as Nicky gets his bodies.

That's why she hates Rio and calls her evil - not because of Rio herself, but because of what her "genetics" did to Nicky. Agatha would rather have people believe that she is this evil witch killer that traded her child for the Darkhold, than anyone to know the awful truth that it was Nicky who was the cause of the killings.

In the flashbacks, there are those remarks about how they haven't "eaten for days" and that whenever Nicky was poorly he said he was hungry. Agatha said she couldn't create the food for him (and protect him from what's coming). She could've cooked that goat they had with them if they were really that hungry (btw, I still believe that goat is Senor Scratchy), but that wasn't the "food" that Nicky meant.

And just like Billy, Rio couldn't just take Nicky. He had to "turn himself in". It was his choice not to kill any more witches. On the day Nicky dies, he says "My mother needs me home". I think he is talking about Rio here, since he usually calls Agatha "Mama". This is the moment the decides for himself and goes home to Death.

I feel like this opens the possibility that we will indeed see Nicholas Scratch in the future (and have a role similar to the one in the comics). That maybe even he might not have "died" because he is an offspring of death, so he just exists in some Underworld realm, where he no longer needs bodies to survive. Maybe Agatha might have hoped that by killing more and more witches, she will bring Nicky back to life/this realm?

And the Ballad really was a protection spell she made for him too?

This would also be a more plausible explanation why Agatha went to kiss Rio when Billy asked "Is this how Nicky died?". I feel this was more of an apology to Rio for hating her for Nicky's treatment, because she finally understood why she had to do it?

[aamircoeur]

celebrity gossip 2 ー ken sato.

the moment when japan's "it girl" decided to confess on live television, too. PREQUEL. PART 1. sfw, fluff. scenario & situations r made up! enjoy reading <3

"wait, okay. no, gods, wait," you rambled. you and your two best friends, tamayo and shau, were currently watching ken sato's interview in 'evening, darlings'.

shau laughed at your obvious nervousness. "just sit back and enjoy the show, [name]!" they exclaimed.

the flat screen showed ken sato in a black shirt that fit him so perfectly, while his iconic smile was visible on his face. "and may i just ask, my darling, of what your favourite thing about coming back to japan is right now?" the interviewer asked, placing their elbows on the arm rest of their chair.

"mmh," ken sato leaned back and had his hand on his chin. "without a doubt, playing for the giants. it was my childhood dream, you know." he started.

"of course. we've yet to interview mister shimura on his thoughts about his team's recent win and overall thoughts now that it includes you." the interviewer answered.

ken sato nodded. "oh, yeah, it's definitely better now," he joked, receiving heartful laughs from the audience and from the interviewer. "but, really, the team is what actually made me better myself. they're great, lively, amazing people filled with talent. in the fields and out, they've really showed me that people can be genuine, and i appreciate that." the interviewer had an awed look on their face.

"he's really such a great baseball player, no?" tamayo commented.

"i know!" shau chimed in. the two discussed the giants' recent game while you were in between them, wherein each player showed their strengths, highlighting ken sato's swift home run the moment he became the batter. you blocked out their conversation because for one, you didn't know shit about baseball, and two, you had ken sato's second interview for 'evening, darlings' aired in front of you right now.

"i came to japan for my father, too. he has been my greatest supporter since i was a kid alongside my mom, and it was about time i thanked the old man." ken sato smiled. "and, of course, you can not miss the japanese cuisine." the camera focused on him alone, showing his sly smirk while he winked at the camera, making the audience scream, and you, internally.

the interviewer and ken sato continuously talked about any topics that the former threw in, but now, the topic was about ken sato's social life. more specifically, the topic was about his answer during his last interview there.

"if it matters that much, i like [surname]." ken sato said, his thumb swiping underneath his nose to try and cover up a forming smile.

"[surname]? the [name] [surname], japan's "it girl"? that matters so much, darling!" the interviewer squealed.

yeah, that.

it seemed like their yomiuri giants talk had ended, for shau wrapped their arms around you and pressed their cheek against yours. "and once again, japan's "it girl" is the talk of the town," they smiled while watching the interview with you.

"i don't even know how i got that title." you laughed.

tamayo wrapped her hands around you as well and leaned her head on your shoulder. "'don't know', my ass." she said, making the three of you giggle. "ah, i could never imagine ken sato admitting that he likes me on national television." she added.

"he does not like me." you said, wiggling out of their bear hugs.

"'does not like me', my ass." shau said, making tamayo laugh and you playfully rolled your eyes. "shush, now! the topic's juicy!" they said, turning their attention to the tv.

"so, my darling, do you remember your answer when i asked you if you had a special someone in your life?" the interviewer asked.

"ah, yeah," ken said. "i like [surname]."

what the fuck.

while the two girls squealed almost as loud, if not louder, than the audience did in the studio, you were a hot mess. you were smiling sheepishly from ear to ear, face and ears all flushed from embarrassment as your eyes stared up at the flat screen.

"there is absolutely no way." tamayo squealed, hitting your shoulder after each word that she said.

"my darling!" the interviewer said, trying to catch the attention of everyone.

"yes, darling?" ken sato answered. the interviewer obviously liked that response, undeniably with the huge grin on their face.

"you are such a flirt, mister sato." they said, playfully making a hitting motion with their hand. "am i your celebrity crush now?" they said, laughing, and earning some laughs from the audience as well.

"ah, no. not at all. it's still [surname]." he answered cooly.

what the fuck.

the audience and the girls beside you collectively lost their shit once more, and right now, your face felt so hot that one might get a third degree burn upon touching it.

the camera focused on ken sato, making the viewers see his features so clearly. dear god, was this man handsome. "i have yet another question, ken." the interviewer spoke.

"fire away."

"from your guest appearance here, darling, you've left quite an impression on our audience. i think you might be their brand new eye candy." they said.

kenji laughed and ran his hand through his hair. "i'm flattered, but then again, i get it." he said, winking at the camera.

"will the audience ever stop squealing at ken sato?" tamayo said.

"as if you weren't just squealing with me a minute ago." shau replied, and you laughed heartily at this. "[name], how are you so composed right now!" they commented.

you looked at your two friends with a flustered face then put your face in your hands out of pure embarrassment. shau hugged you again and rocked you back and forth while tamayo just laughed at you. the interview finally ended with a wave goodbye from ken sato. while talking to your girls about what happened, your phone played your ringtone as it lit up, showing you an incoming call from your manager.

"excuse me, ladies," you told you girls and they just nodded as you went out of the room for privacy. "hello, hanabi. is something the matter?" you greeted.

"good evening, [nickname]. you seen the interview with ken sato?" she said in a teasing voice. you audibly sighed as a joke and the two of your shared a laugh. "crazy stuff, huh? anyway, i'm just here to inform you of recent additions to your schedule this month." she said.

"additions?" you echoed.

"mhm, nothing too big. the photoshoot in paris, france scheduled this thursday is still on the go," they started. "and you are to guest in 'evening, darlings' the following week on sunday, aired on tuesday."

you had a surprised look on your face. "woah, what? right after ken sato's stunts?" you asked.

"yup! perfect timing, i think it's to stir drama by hearing your side of the story. whatever their intentions may be, we can use this to our own advantage. i figured that engaging with his romantic advances would be good for you. it would be a good opportunity to switch your target audience, too. and i don't think it'll be that hard to convince you, knowing that you fancy the guy," she murmured the last part quickly as a way to tease you and you just laughed.

"but, seriously, i fear that you've been too sexualized, and i know you're just more than how the media portrays you, but then again, so is everyone else in the industry," she said sadly, and you felt touched that she didn't want that kind of fame for you and actively wanted to change that. she really was more than your manager, and you were glad to have her with you.

"th-thank you, hanabi. really." you said.

"it's nothing, dear! anyway, you'll have your rest days from monday to thursday, and on friday, you have a duo photoshoot for a sports brand called, 'royals'" hanabi added, talking quickly with her reason being to save the two of your time.

"oh, interesting. i think tamayo had a photoshoot with them before. which model will i be doing it with?" you asked her.

"there's no model, [nickname]."

"huh?"

"you're doing it with ken sato."

p.s., huge thank u to @shauu for allowing me to use their name <3 !! also, the cuisine joke from paragraph 9 is a reference to ambessa medarda from arcane when she said that she wanted to try piltover's local cuisine (the men) :^P

taglist: @lunaryasha @vrxouei @m00nd0v3 @despacito-uwu16 @lovingyeet @moon-shampoo @hashxu @manjimeowmeow @sylvirmist-s-cottage @warlike-morning @beabadobeee @procastinatingbitch @zagreustomb @ttulipwritezz @/everyone else untaggable :(

[k2ntoss]

I need more baby daddy Jason. Maybe sitting at the park watching him with ur kids and hearing the other moms ogling over him

yall dangerously feeding my brain rot and it's giving me a baby fever i do not wish to feed !!!!!!!!!!! but whoever says baby daddy jason you have my heart rn bc i adore that man!!!!!!!!!!!

by the end of the week it was already time for your kids to go out and have a pretty day at the park, jason had been really busy lately so you took the stroller and placed your babygirl on it before calling your boy, living copy of jason when he was a kid and you couldn't want it any other way because both of your babies had those pretty emerald eyes you so adored.

the way to the park was easy, those two kids had a way to be pretty little angels when it came to go out to the park and you loved that because jason would usually catch up with you sometimes when the work was too much and today was one of those days. your little boy was six and your little girl four, which made it a bit hard to have him playing around and keeping an eye on your babygirl but as soon as jason joined you it was time for the girl to also leave your arms.

jason has been an amazing dad, always making sure his kids and girl were just fine, that they had everything they could ever need and want and it was easy to see in the way the little girl giggles loudly when he sweeps her out of your arms and walks to the playground while you sit, keeping an eye on your son and it's easy to hear the small group of moms muttering and giggling close to where you're sitting.

"do you think he's single? maybe divorced... he just came and picked up the girl from her arms" one of the women says and you roll your eyes because you know how damn well jason looks and how easy it is for him to trigger a baby fever in anyone but the small pang of possessiveness and jealousy that stirs in your chest is there.

"he didn't kissed her, i bet she is the kids' mom but they're not together... i should try and get his number," oh, over your damn dead body anyone would even dare to try and getting jason's number but you know better so you sit, looking at your family with a fond smile because now your two kids are held by jason.

you look at him and you can tell he's been working out more recently because he seems fitter, a little less of that dad body he had gotten since your second child was born and you loved how he looked, broad and muscly but there was a little tummy that only made you drool even more for the father of your kids.

you had to endure the comments and ogling from that group of moms for at least half an hour until you decided you had enough. walking over the place where jason was playing with the kids you stood close, looking at him with a smile when he lifted his head to glance at you and the glint on his eyes made you heart flutter, he picked up the kids on his arms and strode towards you with the widest smile ever amd without saying anything else he leaned in to press a tender kiss on your lips.

"hey there, ma," he whispered still close to your face "i missed you..." the words never fail to make your whole body shudder as you stand in front of the love of your life because that's what jason was, flaws and everything he was everything you could ever want.

"missed you too, jaybird... mind if we take the kids for ice cream?" you ask with a soft tone and it's easy for him to notice what's going on when you don't even pull away but stand even closer while looking up at him like a lovestruck teen again.

that's when jason gently places your girl in the stroller and wraps his free arm around your waist before he peppers a few kisses on your neck earning a chuckle from you and a soft 'yuck' from your boy's lips.

"daddy! stop kissing mommy! let's go for ice cream" and the childish protest makes jason smirk, knowing now he had yet to deal with a whole bunch of spoiled babies instead of just you but he wouldn't have it any other way and like that, with his arm still around your waist jason makes the way to get ice cream and you can satisfiedly feel the disappointment in the group of moms that were shamelessly planing to hit on jason.

[heartiis]

the big apple ꩜ .ᐟ pt.1

pt.2

pairing - ellie x reader

synopsis - you've just moved to nyc and ellie's your new neighbor. she hates you though and you don't know why :((

cw - mean ellie, eventual side gig dealer ellie, eventual weed, eventual tattoo artist ellie, cigs, drinking, no smut this time but there will be eventually, swearing, reader is feminine, descriptions of outfits, uhh can't think of what else I'm new to this

a/n - this is my first fanfic and english isn't my first language so yea !! there's going to be multiple parts, I'm not sure how many yet. I hope u like it. lots of wish fulfillment here bc I'm not american and would love to live in nyc. I tried to imagine what ellie, jesse and dina would be like irl but I also just did what I wanted to do loll

Your new apartment in New York was dingy, run down and just the slightest bit smelly. But that didn’t matter. You loved it because it was yours, just yours. You were going to pay the rent and everything, and you already had a job at a coffee shop lined up for when your savings ran out.

Then there was the matter of the neighbor. You see, very often, the smell of weed crept under their doorway and made it’s way into your apartment, and into your nose. It wasn’t that you hated it. No, unfortunately for you, you loved it. You wanted so desperately to know who it was that was stinking up your apartment, and what they must be doing every time they got high.

Did they listen to music, the same kind you did? Or did they just lay there, thinking about life? Where they talking to someone? Touching someone…?

You wouldn’t be so nosy, you imagined, if you had your own weed. But moving to a city where you knew no one was complicated. Finding a plug was complicated, even if it was in New York, and it would be great if you could befriend your neighbor and ask them for a referral.

Your question about what they looked like was suddenly answered when you came out on Monday morning for your first official shift at the coffee shop. On that day, your neighbor who you’d never seen before just happened to leave their apartment at the same time as you, and as soon as you saw her, you were struck by how hot she was.

Dressed in baggy, stylish clothes, with auburn hair cut to her shoulders and tied back in a haphazard bun, she was your idea of walking sex. The place you’d be working at didn’t have a uniform except for an apron with its logo, and suddenly you felt sheepish in your dainty goodwill floral dress and sneakers.

Everyone in New York was so cool, with studded belts and graphic tees from bands you obviously wouldn’t know, that your style which had suited you so well living in your small hometown now felt boring. You’d run away to the big apple to be where the action was, to meet cool people and live a full life. But it was growing increasingly clear to you that maybe those people wouldn’t be as eager to meet you.

You turned your head to look at your neighbor, who was exactly the type of person you’d envisioned would be a part of your new amazing life. She had freckles all over her nose and cheeks, creeping down her neck. And she had a beautiful tattoo on her arm. A tattoo! The grand majority of people in your hometown were too conservative to have those, even the young ones. You found yourself wanting to trace it with your fingers…

You realized you were staring, and tried to snap yourself back to reality. Work. You were in the elevator because you needed to go to work.

You straightened up as the elevator bell dinged, then started to walk out—and tripped. The stupid old machine had stopped just below floor level, making it so that you had to step up a bit as if climbing stairs, which you hadn’t done.

Right in front of your extremely hot, extremely-your-type-neighbor. Except it didn’t matter, did it? You didn’t want a complicated relationship with your neighbor (not that you had any confidence she’d be interested in you like that) and there were so many other hot women in New York.

But when you looked back, she was smirking, and it was the sexiest thing ever. So it did matter, a lot.

At least you’d managed not to fall.

You tried to gain back composure, laughing slightly so it was less awkward. But she just kept that same shit-eating grin on her face. Then she scoffed. Actually scoffed. Goddamn. What made it worse was that her distaste for you only made her hotter, more desirable, in your eyes. You were screwed.

You realized you weren’t moving when she walked past you with her hand reaching into her back pocket. She pulled out a pack of cigarettes and did not look back at you as she walked out of the building. You wondered were she was going.

The rest of your day was anxiety inducing. You felt a growing swarm of nerves in your stomach as you were introduced to your co-workers and taught the ropes of your job. You were just thankful they didn’t have you dealing with clients yet. During the early hours of your shift, there had been a steady line at the cash register full of all kinds of people, some of them nice and patient, others not so much. You’d clearly chosen a busy spot to work in.

Then again, wasn’t that most places in New York? You smiled to yourself. Things were indeed nerve-racking, but they were also so very exciting.

As the week went on, you began to settle into the motions of your job. Making more complicated drinks was still very hard, but there were simpler manual tasks you would do were you didn’t have to think much about what your body was doing. And in those quieter moments, your mind would wander to that elevator, and the embarrassing moment you’d had.

After the inner panic at the thought of it would fade, you’d think about your neighbor. You wondered what her life was like here. What she did for a living, what her weekends looked like, if she participated in the nightlife of the city you had no friends to explore with yet. You wanted to know her name, and who her friends were, and if she had a girlfriend (because you were pretty damn sure she liked girls). But unluckily for you, you received very little hints.

After that first day on Monday, you hadn’t seen her in the mornings, nor in the afternoons when you came back home. All you had of her were those moments where the slight smell of weed rose up in your apartment, making you wish you could just knock on her door and join in on the smoke sesh.

Then Friday night came. You were spent from your busy first week and decided to stop by the supermarket on the way home to get yourself some cheap wine and a single wine glass.

It was a warm summer night, so you sat on the fire escape window in your little pajama shorts and tank top, setting down the things you’d bought next to you. You’d already opened the wine, so you poured it in the glass and took to sipping. When the first glass was done you poured yourself another, already starting to feel a little tipsy. You had just begun to drink it when you heard the sound of your neighbor’s window roll up, accompanied with a man’s laughter.

He stepped out onto the fire escape with a beer bottle and leaned against the railing. He wore clothes with a similar, baggy style to your neighbor’s. Then came out a pretty girl with dark hair pulled into a ponytail and heeled black leather boots.

“Come on, slowpoke!” she said, extending a hand.

“Alright, alright I’m coming! I was just checking my phone.” Your neighbor grabbed the girl’s hand and stepped onto the fire escape.

Girlfriend? You thought, feeling like you were deflating.

“You got a message from one of your little fuck buddies?” The girl teased.

Not a girlfriend. Oh, and your neighbor had fuck buddies. You found it kind of hot, of course. Because you were always into the girls who might as well be walking around with the word “danger” written onto their foreheads. It also did makes you feel a little weird, because you knew she wouldn’t fuck you, and even if she did, you’d just be a fuck buddy. But what did it matter? It wasn’t like you even knew her enough to be able to want anything more. Still, you felt weird.

“Clients, actually,” she responded.

“Yeah, Dina, you think Ellie would even deign to give any of those girls her number?”

So, her name was Ellie.

“Asshole,” Ellie said as Dina laughed.

Your time spent staring at her was cut short when she noticed your presence, looking directly at you. You couldn’t help but notice her grin slide right off her face. You picked up the wine glass and tasted the drink nervously.

“Hey!” The guy said, with a bright smile on his mouth. “You must be the new neighbor.”

“Yeah,” you said, hesitating. You watched Ellie’s reaction to this closely. She seemed annoyed her friend was even making conversation with you.

“Much cuter than the last one,” Dina smiled. You smiled back softly.

“Well, it’s not really hard to compete with Stinky Steve,” Ellie said, and your smile faded.

“Dude.” The guy shot her a look. “Anyways, my name’s Jesse. I’m Ellie’s friend.”

“Nice to meet you. My name’s y/n.”

“So,” Dina cut in. “Are you living alone or have you got a roomate that’s cute like you?”

“Um, I’m living alone. I’m new to the city, actually, so I don’t really know anybody yet.”

Jesse leaned onto the railing closest to your side. “Well, you know us now.” He looked at Dina and Ellie, taking a swig of his beer. “You know what? We actually came here to pre-game. We’re going to this club in like an hour, if you want to come with.”

“Jesse.” Ellie looked like she wanted to deck him.

“What? She seems cool!”

“Yeah, Ellie, don’t be such a dick. Be nice to your neighbor.” Dina poked her. Ellie didn’t say anything else, just sat down on the window ledge and looked brooding.

“So, what do you say y/n?”

You thought about it. Maybe the wine was making you more confident, but you kind of wanted to say yes. Not just because you wanted to get closer to Ellie, but because Dina and Jesse seemed cool too, and you really wanted to go out partying in the city. You looked at Ellie, who was staring off into the distance. You’d feel uncomfortable saying yes, knowing she clearly didn’t want you to go. But then you thought it wasn’t fair for her to keep you from making friends. It didn’t make sense for her to hate you so much. You hadn’t even done anything to her.

Yeah, fuck her.

“Okay. I’m just going to get ready while you guys pre-game, is that good?”

“Hell yeah!” Jesse clapped his hands. “Knock on our door when you’re ready.”

“My door,” Ellie interjected. You thought to yourself that you were going to find some other hot girl to dance with, so you could forget about your rude neighbor.

“Oh, one thing,” Jesse said. “How old are you?”

“Nineteen.”

“Same as Ellie! You got a fake id?”

Ellie scoffed. “Definitely not..” She said it under her breath, but you heard it anyways.

“Of course.” You smiled.

“Attagirl.”

Dina smiled and looked pointedly at Ellie.

You climbed inside your apartment, heading straight to your room. Your excitement was taken down a notch when you opened your closet. Jesse, Dina and Ellie were all wearing stylish clothes. Dina had on a hot club girl outfit, while Jesse and Ellie looked like attractive people you’d see at the skate park. They all looked like they’d be stopped by one of those tiktok street interviewers who would ask them to talk about their outfits. You thought about Ellie’s clothes. She was wearing jorts and a shirt with the sides cut out, revealing her Calvin Klein sports bra at the sides. You bit your lip, then shook your head, turning to the task at hand.

Your floral dresses were out of the question. You had a few basic crop tops and tanks which would do for a top, but you didn’t want something that would just do. You were a resident of New York City now, and you wanted to look the part. Then you remembered something. One of the coolest girl friends you had back in your hometown had given you a dress because you’d said you thought it was hot.

You sifted through your things and fished it out. It was a simple black dress with thin straps, but it was quite short and meant to cling onto your body. You’d never worn it before, in part because you hadn’t had many occasions for it, and also in part because you were worried you’d feel self-conscious in it. Especially because it could easily ride up and expose your ass. Whatever. You took out from your closet some tights you could wear underneath and called it a day.

You slipped it on and put on a few rings and your favorite necklace, then went back to the bathroom to put on some makeup. You put on lots of eyeliner and eyeshadow around your eyes, creating a sort of smokey eye look, then stepped back to look at yourself. Finally, you sprayed on some of your favorite perfume. Perfect. You smiled and walked out of your apartment, knocking on Ellie’s door.

Dina answered. “Oh, shit, you look hot.”

“Thanks.” You tilted your head, a little shy but happy.

Jesse came up next to Dina. “Ready to go?”

“Yup,” you replied.

pt.2

[honeyedmiller]

Mr. Bakery Man

baker!joel miller x f!reader

rating: none

synopsis: it’s not every day you get to move from nyc to austin for your job and relish in a pleasant change of pace. it’s also not every day that you discover a cute family owned bakery in the heart of austin—and it’s definitely not every day that you meet the owner and fall head over heels for him.

warnings: this is pure, innocent tooth-rotting fluff ; fun flirting, we’ll call this one a hallmark type beat lol, sarah and ellie are both in this, joel is down bad in this (but so is reader), no use of y/n.

word count: 3.3k

a/n: this was supposed to be for @punkshort’s au writing challenge but i’m hella late on it. life has been crazy lately, but thanks for sticking with me during my unintentional hiatus 🤍

Moving from New York City to Austin Texas had been an oddity in life’s recent escapades. 

Your job had asked if anyone in your department was willing to do the big move because the office in Austin needed a strong journalist on their growing team. With the rest of your colleagues having kids and spouses, nobody was interested in uprooting their whole life to move to a completely different state. 

You, on the other hand, wanted to get out of New York. You yearned for new opportunities, and when this one arose, you didn’t hesitate to tell your boss you were interested. 

You’d been slowly settling into Austin, getting used to life in another city with a completely different atmosphere. You were grateful your new colleagues were all very nice and welcoming. 

The one thing you’d say you missed dearly back in New York City, though, was this amazing bakery off of Fifth you’d frequent before work. Their coffee and croissants were delicious, which is what led you to go on a Google hunt to see what bakeries were good around here in Austin. 

One caught your eye immediately—Sarah & Ellie’s— with five star reviews and multiple photos of all the sweets they had to offer. It was a cozy little café and bakery mixed into one with a homey, warm vibe and cute decorations. You mapped it to see how long it would take you to get to the place, and to your luck, it was only a ten minute walk from your apartment complex. So, you decided you were going to go first thing in the morning before work. 

And for some reason, you felt excited to try a new place. Maybe it was a sign of finally getting used to living in a completely different state, fifteen hundred miles away from your old life. 

You luckily got used to being an early riser, so once morning had rolled around, you were up n’ at ‘em by six thirty. You left your house around seven, making your way down to Sarah & Ellie’s. 

The shop felt more homey than it looked online. As soon as you stepped in, there was already a short line of customers and a waft of delicious baked goods and coffee that filled your senses. You suddenly yearned for a home you’d never even been to. 

You stood in line and observed the menu, deciding on sticking with a classic chocolate croissant and latte for the time being. You wanted to see if this place held a candle up to the place off of Fifth. 

The older gentleman in front of you greeted the cashier with a bright smile, and she immediately typed in an order. 

“Hey Randy, how’s it going?” 

“Hey sweet pea. Just here for my usual mornin’ coffee and danish,” he says, handing the girl a ten dollar bill. She counts out the change and closes the register with her hip before returning his beaming smile to him. “Tell your old man to stop workin’ so damn hard. Cheryl says I need to lay off the sweets once in a while, but I can’t do that if all his baked goods are too delicious to resist.” Randy pats his stomach with a satisfied hum, and the girl laughs. 

“I’ll be sure to pass on the message. Have a good one!” 

After she waves him off, she locks eyes with you and gives you the same beaming smile as you stepped up to the register. 

“What can I get ya, Miss?” she asks, tone cheery and light. 

“I’ll take a chocolate croissant and a latte, please.” 

She nods and rings in your order, grabbing a cup to write your name on it. 

“Not to intrude or anything, but are you new ‘round here?” Her tone is still light, laced with pure curiosity as the sharpie pen hovers over the latte cup. 

You gave her a smile and nodded meekly, “I am.” 

“Well, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Sarah.” 

You give her your name and her smile never wavers, scribbling your name on the cup. 

“Let me get that chocolate croissant for you—” she started, but was accidentally cut off by a man opening the door that separated the front of the café from the back. 

“Hey babydoll, do we have anymore—” the man stops abruptly, eyes landing on you. A black apron adorned his clearly thick and strong physique, flour dusted on his hands and arms. He was tall, and had a sweet glint in his brown eyes that made warmth flood your whole body. He had a head full of thick brown curls with grays strewn in here and there, and the mustache along with the stubble on his chin mirrored the streaks in his hair.

He instantly gave off a charming aura, and when he smiled at you, you were a goner. 

“Hello Miss. Don’t think we’ve ever met before,” he says, dusting his hands off on the apron before extending one to you. His Southern accent dripped like thick, pure honey, and it made your skin burn hot. 

You couldn’t hold back your smile when you reached your hand out to shake his. It might’ve sounded cliché as hell, but the sudden surge you got from just touching him made every single cell in your body alert, yearning for more. 

“I’m new in the city,” you explain, “Just moved here not too long ago.” 

“Ah, makes sense. Think I’d remember ya even if you didn’t come in often.” 

You’re taken aback by his words. Was he… flirting? You felt your face heat, and your eyes nervously flit to the glass case full of delicious looking pastries. Well, if he was flirting, there’s no harm in doing it back… right? 

“Me coming in often depends,” you find yourself grinning like a fool, “Do your pastries taste as good as they look and smell?” 

“They’re the best in Austin,” he winks, and with that, murmurs something to Sarah before giving you one last smile before walking to the back again. 

Sarah can’t help but giggle as she hands you your croissant. “It’s on the house,” she waves her hand as you pull out your wallet, and you stop short to give her a confused look. She clocks the expression on your face and grins. “Dad said.” 

“That’s your dad?” You didn’t mean to pry, you were just taken aback. 

“Mhm. Family owned and operated bakery,” you immediately hear the pride in her voice, and you can’t help but smile. “I’ll have your latte out in a minute.” 

You grin and nod, stepping over to the other side of the counter. You decided to take a bite of your croissant while you waited for your latte, and god, it was the best pastry you think you’d ever had. The croissants on Fifth had nothing against these gooey, decadent, flaky treats. 

You nearly had to hold back a moan, and the man—Randy, you think—laughed beside you. 

“Good, ain’t they?” he asks, and you nodded expeditiously. 

“Probably the best croissant I’ve ever had.” 

Randy nods in agreement, “Miller’s the best baker in Austin. Been comin’ here since his girls were little.” 

And you finally figured that Ellie must be his other daughter. It warmed your heart that he’d name his place after his two girls, clearly his pride and joy. 

“That’s so nice,” you say, and give him a quick wave goodbye when his order is called out. 

“Hopefully I’ll see you again soon,” Randy shot you a smile before taking a sip of his drink, and you nod at him with a smile before you turn your attention to your name being called out. Sarah handed you your drink and you thanked her, taking a cautious sip. 

Even the latte was superb. You were one hundred percent sold on this place, and maybe even a little smitten with the owner. 

Yeah, you’d definitely be coming back. 

-

A month passes by before you know it, and you’re now deemed an honorable regular at Sarah & Ellie’s. You’ve met Ellie, who was a total opposite of her sister—but you loved both of their personalities all the same. You learned that Ellie was going to art school and you promised her you’d buy a commissioned piece. 

Sarah was going to school for business, studying to take over the bakery one day, and possibly even expand it as a franchise. You told her you’d be at the grand opening the day that it happens. 

As for the owner, Mr. Miller—or, Mr. Bakery Man, you teasingly called him—kept the flirting subtle but fun. You looked forward to the playful banter you two’d exchange, and it always earned a raised brow and a not-so-subtle smirk from either Sarah or Ellie. 

Unbeknownst to you, they’d tease their father about the ‘crush’ he had on the pretty regular that came in and how he should buck up and ask you on a date. 

And he planned to do just that. When you went in on a Saturday morning, you were surprised to see him working the front counter instead of one of the girls. 

“Well if it isn’t Mr. Bakery Man,” you say, and he runs a hand through his hair. 

“In the flesh,” he says, and you can’t help but laugh. 

“Girls didn’t come in today?” You lean up against the counter as he grabs a latte cup, writing your name out on it. He hesitates for a moment, but continues to write on it before setting it down on the opposite countertop. 

“Nah. Sarah was up late doing homework and it’s Ellie’s turn to have Saturday off.”

You nod in understanding, pulling out your wallet. He stops you and shakes his head, and you scoff. 

“You have to let me pay, Mr. Miller. You can’t keep giving me these discounts.” 

“Don’t worry about it, darlin’,” his smile was shy, and he was fidgety—almost like he was scared. Right when you opened your mouth to ask him if he was okay, he cut you off. 

“Would you wanna go on a date with me?” His words were rushed, and your heart melted at how nervous he sounded. 

You paused your movements completely, meeting those warm brown eyes that made you feel so safe. 

“I’d love to,” you answered, and relief visibly washed over his features. 

“Great. I, uh, wrote my name and number on your cup. Hope you don’t mind,” he says, and you have to bite back a smile. Then you suddenly realized you never even knew this man’s first name. You’d just stuck with calling him the nickname you gave him, or by his last name. 

You took the cup from him gingerly as he finished making your drink a few minutes later, and turned it in your hand to see his name and number scrawled on the side as promised. 

Joel. 

The name fit the gorgeous man in front of you. He nervously rubbed the back of his neck, and your palm landed on his insanely toned bicep with reassurance. 

He stared at you, the warmth in his eyes nearly making you weak in the knees. 

“I promise I’ll call you,” you say, giving his bicep a soft squeeze. Your hand falls to your side again before grabbing the croissant from the counter that you didn’t notice until now, and you eagerly took a bite. 

Joel wanted to laugh at the chocolate on the side of your mouth as you tilted the pastry toward him. He restrained himself from reaching up and wiping it from your mouth, but you beat him to it by using your knuckle to wipe it off. 

“Compliments to the chef.” You tease, wiggling your eyebrows. 

He couldn’t help but admire your playful side, ecstatic that you agreed to go out with him. 

“Anythin’ for you darlin’,” he said, and you left the bakery that day with a smile on your face that you couldn’t wipe. 

That night, you found yourself pacing back and forth in your apartment as you chewed on your bottom lip. Your phone was clutched in your hand, keypad open and ready to dial. Your other hand had the empty coffee cup with his name and number. 

You didn’t know why you were battling this in your head. Is it weird? Is it too late to call him? No—No, it’s not weird. He’s the one who asked you out, after all. 

Fuck it. 

You sighed as you dialed the number on the cup, pressing the phone up to your ear. Within seconds, Joel’s deep voice rang through the other line. 

“Hello?” He sounded a bit tired, voice hoarse from what had to be a long day. 

“Hey Mr. Bakery Man,” you said in hopes of lifting his spirits even in the slightest. 

His deep chuckle that sounded through the receiver had a warmth blooming in your chest. Even his laugh alone made you feel good inside—like a cup of hot cocoa in your hands on a cold night while you’re in your pajamas sitting fireside. 

Did it sound kind of insane? Sure. Did you care? No. 

The feelings you’d felt toward him almost blindsided you, but something in your gut told you that Joel would be a constant in your life from here on out. 

“Hey darlin’. How’s your day been?” He asks. 

“Good, good,” you pause for a moment, “So about that date…” 

“I was thinkin’ some dinner? Friday night at seven?” 

“That’s perfect. I can’t wait.” 

-

Friday night rolled around, and Joel was kicking himself for not exactly having a plan B. For some reason, the reservations he made got mixed up and you couldn’t be seated. 

You assured him that it was okay, and that his presence was enough for you to enjoy yourself. 

You both decided to get some pasta to-go and eat your food at a park nearby. Even though you both were dressed to the nines and didn’t exactly blend in, you couldn’t care less. You were enjoying your time with him and getting to know the amazing man that he is. 

He opened up and talked about how Sarah and Ellie were both his pride and joy, how he had Sarah really young and adopted Ellie later on, how he sometimes helped his brother Tommy in the contracting business, and how he’s loved to bake in the kitchen with his mom ever since he was a young boy. 

“Didn’t really think I’d make a career out of it,” he confesses. 

“Looks like it worked out for you really well though,” you nudge his side gently. You were settled onto a bench with him then, closer to each other than anticipated. Neither of you said a word, though. 

Being by Joel’s side radiated nothing but safety and comfort. It felt natural, like you two were meant to find your way to each other. 

“Guess so. ‘S funny though. I meet new people every day because of the bakery and, forgive me ‘f this is too bold to say, but meeting you has completely thrown me off my game,” he chuckles, and you furrow your brows. 

“What do you mean?” You try not to feign hurt in your tone, but he wraps his arm around your shoulders and brings you into his warm body. You’re engulfed in his scent, and you could stay here forever, you thought to yourself. 

“Don’t mean it as a bad thing, sweetheart. I mean you’ve been on my mind constantly, and truth be told, I didn’t think you’d ever agree to go on this date with me. ‘M not really one to put myself out there and go on dates, but somethin’ about you made me want to get to know ya more,” he explained, and you nodded your head in understanding. 

“I get it. I didn’t know what to expect when I moved out here. I always buried myself in work and didn’t pay much attention to dating someone, but I’d like to say this turn of events has been pleasant.” 

He can’t help but grin foolishly at your words. 

“‘M glad it worked out this way too. Y’know my girls pushed me to ask you out? Not that I didn’t want to in the first place, but ‘m… not very good at this,” he waves his hand to the side.  

You could easily picture Sarah and Ellie giving Joel a hard time, hounding him to ask you out. 

“Your girls know what’s best,” you tease, and he can’t help but let out a hearty laugh. “But you’re doing just fine, Mr. Miller. I promise.” 

“Even if I goofed and our reservation got messed up?” 

“Joel, I wouldn’t care if you took me to Whataburger for a date. It’s the company that matters,” you say, and you could’ve sworn you saw him blush. 

“Where have you been all my life?” His question sounded like it was meant to be directed just to himself, but you leaned in and gave his cheek a kiss. 

“Probably in New York City,” you shrugged. 

“You and your sarcasm,” he said, shoulders shaking from laughing. 

“Hey, you’re the one who asked me out. That’s on you,” and Joel couldn’t help the pride that bloomed within his chest. 

“Sure did. What do ya say? Wanna head back to the bakery for a cup of coffee and croissant?” 

“What, like a nightcap, but sweet?” You grinned, and he nods. 

“Somethin’ like that.” 

“I’d love to.” 

Joel offered you his arm and you wrapped your hand around his bicep, staying close to him as you both walked back to his truck. 

It didn’t take long to get back to the bakery. Joel made you some coffee with creamer and sugar while he drank his black. He made you a croissant too as promised, and you couldn’t help but gush to him about how you loved his baking. You’d tried a few other things off the menu since you started coming into the shop, but the croissants were what stole your heart. 

You and him sat there for what seemed like hours just talking and getting to know each other on a deeper level. You told him about your family, your dreams and aspirations, what made you want to become a journalist, and what drove you to reach your goals. 

He loved that you were so ambitious—he didn’t come across too many people these days that seemed to know exactly what they wanted in life. You impressed him, and as he sat across from you listening to you talk about work, he knew you were the woman for him. 

He would’ve deemed himself crazy not even a few months ago for thinking such a thing, but hell, if you know you know. 

So the months passed by, and you two became inseparable.

Both of you didn’t think you’d meet someone like this, let alone someone you both could see sharing a life with. This man, all kind hearted and selfless and a big teddy bear who treated you like a goddess, was the man that swept you off your feet and made you see that work isn’t everything life had to offer. 

You took that leap of faith to move to Austin, not knowing the outcome it would have. But, you sure as hell were so glad that it happened. That this thing with Joel happened. You were decently happy with your life before you met him and let him in, but now, you felt as if you’d been on cloud nine for months. 

You were helping Joel close up the bakery one Sunday evening when he turned to you and confessed that he loved you, and he couldn’t imagine his life without you. Neither could the girls. You’d changed him for the better, even if it hadn’t even been a year of knowing each other. 

You’d said it right back to him, and with flour still lingering on his hands, he’d grabbed your face and kissed you like you were the air his lungs needed, the blood to keep his heart pumping, and his god-given solace. 

And you thought, this was exactly where you were meant to be—safe in his arms, full of love, with a whole lifetime with him to look forward to. 

He was it for you. You'd won the heart of the charming Southern gentleman—your Mr. Bakery Man. 

dividers by @saradika-graphics

p.s. sorry if this sucked i’m genuinely so rusty w writing rn. thanks for understanding <3