#jody pep talk

[farmerstarter]

The Bachelors on their Wedding Day

Hi Hello have this short list of my little Headcanons of the bachelors on their wedding day. Hope you enjoy it! Reblogs and likes are appreciated!!🌷🤍

ʚ🏈ɞ ˚ · . Alex :

🏈 Fiddles with his tie relentlessly and ends up ruining it. He runs to Evelyn to ask her to tie it up again. The only other thing he fusses over is his hair.

🏈 Alex keeps a rabbit's foot in his pants, wanting all the luck he can get.

🏈 Spent literal days writing his wedding vows. Ends up opting to wing it. It wasn't the most eloquently worded thing you've heard but it was sweet.

🏈 He gave himself a pep talk in his bedroom before the ceremony. You only know about this because George was complaining about how loud he was to you.

🏈 Dusty the dog is the mermaid pendant bearer, I decided.

🏈 Also, the song that plays during the wedding is the same tune from Alex's music box. 🥺

ʚ🪶ɞ ˚ · . Elliott :

🪶Beach wedding. You guys have a beach wedding. You've expressed your interest in one and Elliott, with the eager help of Willy, clean up the beach for your special day. Elliott's shoes would fill with sand but his discomfort is overpowered by his delight when he sees you all dressed up.

🪶 He reads you one (of many) of his poems about you. You later learned that he's got a whole book of poetry about you that he's been writing ever since you two started dating. The poem he read on the wedding day was the very first one and is the first page of the book.

🪶 He spent hours trying to make himself look good. Asking for Leah and Willy's input on what he should wear for a solid 3 hours.

🪶 Aside from him worrying over his appearance, Elliott is more excited than nervous. He's on the verge of creating a new chapter in his life with someone else. Gone are the days of his lonely shack and the empty (well, not as empty since you moved into town) beach. Honestly, to say that he's excited is an understatement.

ʚ🛩️ɞ ˚ · . Harvey :

🛩️ Gets awfully shy when reading his vows, stuttering his way through his words and being a blushing mess. He has no problem with the one-on-one check up sessions he does with the other villagers of Pelican Town, but to read aloud in front of all of them at once threw him off. But he kept his eyes on you and managed to power through it.

🛩️ He considered shaving off his mustache for the wedding at least twice. But he decided against the idea.

🛩️ Insisted that you eat Farmer's Brunch the morning of the wedding. Even during your wedding day, he wants to make sure you're feeling healthy.

🛩️ Holds your hands throughout the whole ceremony. Whispering apologies for how clammy his hands are.

ʚ🎸ɞ ˚ · . Sam :

🎸 He wrote a whole song about you and played it on your wedding day. He made it a surprise for you and the moments of him hiding his guitar and shoving music sheets under his bed when you visit his room were all starting to make sense to you.

🎸 Couldn't sleep for the whole night before the wedding. He worried over the ceremony and wanted to make it go smoothly. He's not one to meticulously plan every detail, opting to engage in spur of the moment decisions, but he tried his best to make everything as close to perfect as he can get.

🎸 Jodi tried to gel Sam's hair back, but no matter the amount of gel and hours, his hair would always spring back. Sam wasn't a fan of dressing up in a "dorky suit" but he did anyway, for you.

🎸 Sam didn't want to see you until the wedding so he got Vincent to play messenger for the two of you. He wouldn't do it at first but only agreed to do it because he likes you (Cue a dramatic gasp from Sam).

ʚ🐸ɞ ˚ · . Sebastian :

🐸 Ends up smiling through the whole ceremony, looking at you with such a brightness in his eyes.

🐸 He isn't one to wear anything fancy. The closest thing he ever wore that is considered formal was the suit that Lewis got him and the rest of the dancers to wear for the Flower Dance. He asks his mom to help him dress up for the wedding, asking her about it while she was building furniture. Sebastian doesn't want to admit it, but he liked watching his mom so happy over something that was so mundane to him. He makes sure to keep the suit in perfect condition throughout the ceremony because of it.

🐸 He tells his very heartfelt wedding vows. And while he does, you could hear the faint "that's good," from Elliott before a grunt, inevitably elbowed on the side by Leah.

🐸 You and him ride on his motorcycle after the wedding. He drives you two to the cliff overlooking the city, the same cliff where he confessed his true feelings to you. Under the full moon, the two of you would look at the stars with Sebastian occasionally pointing at a constellation that Maru taught him to find.

🐸 Consider: winter wedding.

ʚ🐣ɞ ˚ · . Shane :

🐣 Genuinely doesn't believe that you want to marry him. He thinks it's a dream at best and a prank at worst. It wasn't until you were tying his mermaid pendant around his neck for him to know that you do love him. He still has trouble understanding it sometimes.

🐣 Shane asked Marnie to teach him how to waltz for your wedding day. Sure, he's danced in the Flower Dance countless of times but he wanted to learn something new to surprise you. And he did. After dancing with you, he dances with Jas. Well, it's more of Jas standing on Shane's feet while he walks and glides around.

🐣 He gave his chicken, Charlie, a bow tie for the wedding and everything. Even got a picture of you and Shane with the little guy. The picture ends up being hanged on Shane's side of the bedroom for many years to come.

🐣 Has his pocket full of corn chips, let's be honest. He offers one to you before the ceremony starts.

[aflame4goinghome]

Bad Reputation

s.f.k. x reader

chapter two

Word Count: 7.4k

Chapter Warnings: swearing, drinking, smoking (marijuana), flirting, a little bit of arguing, lots of sexual tension, slow burnnnn so no smut... yet ;)

A/N: Hi guys! Welcome to chapter two! I'm excited to continue this little story for you all. I hope you don't hate me too much for the slow burn ;) Things will really start to heat up once tour starts up, so stay tuned hehe. See ya soon

Listen to the playlist here :)

chapter one

•┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈••✦ ♡ ✦••┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈•

You step off the stage after another successful gig and quickly retreat to the dressing room for a moment to freshen up before heading out for a few drinks. Unfortunately for you, tonight’s celebrations, along with every celebration from now on, will be quite different due to the required presence of a certain bassist. Jodie thought it would be a good idea for Sam to attend all your gigs, to make your relationship more believable as you started “launching” it to the public. 

You were reluctant at first, but at the end of the day, it didn’t feel like that big of a deal. You didn’t have to be glued to his side the entire night or anything, or at least you hoped not. Nonetheless, you knew he was waiting out there for you, and you knew that he had come alone, which made it even worse. At least if Danny or someone had come along, you’d have some sort of buffer, but no– it was just the two of you. Lucy wasn’t even on shift tonight either, having taken the weekend off to go home and visit her family. 

It’s only been just over a week since you agreed to this deal with Sam, and it was already exhausting you. You honestly haven’t even spoken to him since that day, since both of you have been swamped with rehearsals, but Jodie reached out and let you know that he’d be there. You were hoping that he had forgotten, but when you saw him in his usual corner booth during your set, you realized you had gotten your hopes up too high. 

“Whatever! I’m strong, and I’m confident, and I don’t care,” you say to yourself in the mirror as you touch up your makeup briefly. The pep talk wasn’t really working though. “What’s there to be afraid of, anyway? He’s just a guy!”

“I’m a man, for the record,” you hear a smug voice say from behind you. God-fucking-damnit. “A damn good-looking one, at that.”

“Samuel, what are you doing back here? I was coming out any second now, you couldn’t wait?” you say, scoffing to yourself as you put your makeup back in your bag and turn to him. 

You’re actually surprised to see that he dressed rather nicely tonight. He’s wearing a pair of black jeans, paired with a red button-up with the sleeves rolled up. He had the top two buttons undone, but that was the most of it– not nearly as low-cut as Jake would do. 

“What, your boyfriend isn’t allowed to come see you after a show?” he asks sarcastically, leaning against the doorframe. 

“You’re not my boyfriend, Sam– not actually. Nobody’s watching us back here,” you scowl, slinging your tote over your shoulder and walking to the door. You walk right past him and b-line it toward the bar. 

“Seeing us come out together will help us look more like a couple, obviously,” he says smugly. “Come on, Y/N, I thought you had some wits about you.” You stop in your tracks and turn over your shoulder to glare at him. You take a deep breath before feeling calm enough to reply.

“Fine, whatever. Let’s just go,” you mutter, turning to walk toward the bar again. That was the closest that you could ever get to telling him he was right. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, but you suppose that it wouldn’t be bad for your image if you walked out together. 

“Seb, double rum and coke, please,” you say, trying to brush off your frustration by faking a smile. Sebastian nods and then his eyes drift behind you for a moment. You nearly forgot, honestly. “Oh, and uh– whatever he wants, I guess,” you add, nodding to the tall “man” behind you. 

“PBR,” Sam says behind you, and Seb turns to grab a can from the fridge and open it for him. He places both of your drinks on the counter with a sympathetic smile and then adds it to your tab. 

Without saying anything else, you just turn to retreat to the corner booth, sliding in first. As you situate yourself, you’re startled by Sam sliding in to sit next to you on the same side of the booth.

“What the hell are you doing?” you ask accusingly. Sam rolls his eyes, taking a swig of his beer before turning his body toward you, his long legs stretched out underneath the table. 

“Sweetheart, no one is gonna believe we’re together if we sit as far away from each other as possible,” he answers bluntly. “You have to at least look like you like me and enjoy my presence.”

“It’s harder than you think,” you mumble under your breath, looking down at the drink in your hand atop the table. “But fine.”

“Second time I’m right tonight, y’know. Do I get a prize?” he says with a smirk. You find yourself stifling a laugh, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of thinking he’s funny.

“Is the company of a talented pianist not enough?” you say, your lips turning upward slightly into a smile, subtle but still there. A chuckle leaves his mouth, which surprises you. You never expected him to laugh at your jokes before. 

“I suppose it is, you’re one lucky lady, Y/N,” he says smugly. Damnit. 

“Careful, Samuel. For a moment there, I almost thought you were complimenting me,” you warn with a smirk, taking a sip of your drink. Another laugh erupts from the man sitting next to you.

“Oh, I’m sure you’re just dying for that, aren’t you?” he says, his tone bordering on teasing. 

“For you to compliment me? Please. I don’t need you for that when I can easily find it elsewhere,” you bite back. 

“Well, I don’t see any takers,” he remarks, looking around the room sarcastically. “Seems like you’re stuck with just me. Good luck getting any attention now, with me around.” You don’t even grace him with a reply after that one, just taking a long sip of your drink before putting it down on the table and turning your attention to the next act on stage. 

He lets the silence stay, looking to the stage as well as his arm extends to sit behind you atop the back of the booth. As his arm moves behind you, you’re met with a quick waft of his cologne, smelling strongly of spearmint and pine. You’d be kidding yourself if you didn’t admit that the scent almost sent your eyes rolling in the back of your head, intoxicating you. But you quickly shake it off. 

“So… you guys will be going back on tour soon, yeah?” you ask, trying to fill the silence and save yourself from feeling awkward. He turns toward you, keeping his arm behind you as his fingers graze your bare shoulder. 

“Yeah! We’re heading back out in a few weeks, we’re still trying to get more studio time in so that we can finally start the masters on our next project,” he answers proudly. You knew he was passionate about the music, it was something you respected about him.

“That’s great. From what I heard in the studio the other day, you guys have something really amazing going on there. I really liked the blues roots in some of them, I caught it almost immediately,” you say with a soft smile. Maybe talking to him wasn’t as bad as you might’ve thought. 

“See, thank you! Josh hates those bits– says they’re sonically boring. I completely disagree, obviously,” he says, a smile growing across his face. Despite hating to admit it, the two of you had aligning interests when it came to music, that much was clear. 

“He doesn’t know what he’s talking about! My favorite part was your transition from E major to C sharp minor, in that second song you guys played. It was so satisfying, that’s one of the best key changes in my opinion,” you say, starting to rant but catching yourself. You start to apologize for rambling but the smile on his face tells you that you don’t need to. 

“I’m glad you caught that, no one else ever pays attention to stuff like that. I swear sometimes it feels like I’m all alone there, their minds just don’t work the same as mine,” he says, his smile widening as his thumb rubs softly on your shoulder. 

“Well, I understand. It’s not exactly the same, but Lucy never gets it when I ramble on about music theory. As a writer, music is like a whole other language to her. I’ve never had anyone to really talk to about music before,” you admit with a shrug, looking over at him.

“Maybe we’ve found that in each other, then,” he says quietly, running his tongue along his bottom lip as your eyes watch carefully. You nod slowly, not sure what else to say. You’re not sure when you let yourself get so distracted, but you couldn’t help it. The proximity made your mind so foggy that you couldn’t think about much else. 

All of a sudden, your attention is pulled away from your phone buzzing on the table. You pick it up to read the text you just received, which you see is from Jodie. 

Jodie: Fans have already spotted you both out at the club! Some pics are already circling Twitter, look! 

She attached screenshots of some tweets that have already been posted, questioning who you are and what you’re doing with Sam. The pictures show the two of you sitting close together, Sam’s arm wrapped around you as the two of you are smiling and laughing.

OMG, who is that with Sam???

He has his arm around her, look!

God, I’m so jealous.

They’re sitting awfully close to be just friends!

You have to admit that the two of you did look good together. You managed to make it seem casual and natural, which was good. To have the fans already buzzing about it was a good sign. After you finish reading the tweets, you hand your phone to Sam so that he can take a look.

“I swear, our fans know no boundaries. Who just takes a picture of someone who’s out minding their own business? Pisses me off,” he scoffs, handing you your phone back as he shakes his head, looking around to see if he can catch anyone looking. 

“I know. But at least we have their attention, right? The seeds have certainly been planted. Now we just need to figure out some sort of hard launch,” you answer optimistically, hoping that he’s not too angry. He doesn’t seem to be, since his smile still hasn’t completely faded just yet. 

“We look kinda good together there, don’t you think?” you joke, pulling up the picture again. You hear him laugh next to you, shaking his head as he looks down at your phone over your shoulder. 

“Yeah, I guess we do,” he admits softly. You almost didn’t realize how close he had gotten, to the point where you could feel his warm breath against your ear. You try not to think about the it too much, with the fear of blush creeping over your cheeks. 

“Wanna really give them something to post about?” he whispers with a smirk, his voice against the shell of your ear sending shivers down your spine. Leave it to Sam to ruin the moment with relentless flirting once again. You turn your head to face him and realize that he’s much closer than you originally thought. Your nose brushes against his as your eyes lock. You clear your throat, trying to seem unaffected.

“As much as I’m sure you’d love that, I don’t think we need to rush all of that so soon,” you say softly, a twinge of sarcasm dripping from your voice. You watch as his smirk widens. 

“Fine, you can be boring,” he says smugly, leaning back against the seat. “But I at least want to give them something interesting to talk about. Who cares if we’re just sitting and talking? Everyone does that, we could at least do something a little creative.” It truly was a performance after all. You just hum as a reply, not wanting to perpetuate the argument any further. 

“Here,” he speaks again as his other hand moves to grasp your thigh, pulling your legs to rest slightly on his lap. His hand still lingers on your thigh, grasping firmly on your thigh right below the hem of your leather skirt. 

“What’re you doing?” you say, in almost a whisper. His boldness has taken you aback, and you hesitate to fight back in that moment. The feeling of his large, callused hand on your skin clouded your brain so much that you almost thought you might like it. 

“Giving them a show,” he smirks, turning to make sure people are looking before turning back to look at you. You couldn’t hide the flush of your cheeks now even if you wanted to. It didn’t take long for him to notice. “Am I getting you all hot and bothered, sweetheart? Is that it?” he asks with a smug grin, his hand moving an inch up your thigh as the other ghosts over your bare shoulder again. 

“Pshh– what? No. No. That’s ridiculous,” you answer, obviously flustered. 

“Just admit that you like it,” he says, leaning down to close more space between you. “Your secret’s safe with me.” Yeah, right. He’d never let you live it down if you even gave an inkling that you were enjoying this. You’d never give him that satisfaction. You clear your throat, inching away from him. 

“Wanna get another round?” you ask, trying to change the subject, but he doesn’t budge. 

“Answer my question,” he says assertively, his fingers playing with the hem of your skirt teasingly. You breathe out a deep breath, but keep your eyes on his. He’s searching them, waiting for any hint of you giving in, but finds nothing. 

“What would you do if my answer was yes? What then?” you ask, your voice breathy and quiet. His lips quirk slightly as he looks down at you. 

“You don’t have to play these games to get my attention, y’know. You already have it,” he whispers, his nose brushing past yours. That’s it, you can’t do this anymore. 

“Okay, I need a smoke. Let me out?” you ask, still backing away slowly with the hopes that he’d stand up and let you out of the booth. An annoyed sigh leaves his mouth as he complies, getting up from his seat. 

“I’m coming with you,” he says, clearly not asking. You just roll your eyes and nod, walking out to the front of the club. Leaning against the front of the building, you reach into your tote and pull out your lighter and the blunt that you had rolled earlier that day. Given the stress from the evening, you thanked your earlier self for thinking of it. 

Placing it between your lips, you quickly light it, taking a drag before lowering it to your side. You take a moment to look over at Sam, who’s looking down at you as he leans his side against the wall. Feeling like you were being slightly greedy, you decide to offer him a hit, which he gladly accepts. 

“Didn’t take you for the stoner type,” he says casually, taking another hit before passing it back to you. 

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Sam,” you answer, raising an eyebrow at him as you take a long drag. You watch as his eyes flicker to your lips for a moment there. You knew what he was thinking. If you were crossed enough, you thought you honestly might let him. But not just yet.

“I’m starting to see that… I guess if I want to know anything about you, I’ll have to work for it, yeah?” he says with a shrug. That was exactly what you were going to say next– that he had to work for it. You hated that he could read you like that. Maybe you were more predictable than you thought. 

“I suppose so. You should stop while you’re ahead though, I won’t give in that easily,” you tease, taking another hit as you look up at him, trying to read his expression. The weed is already mixing perfectly with the liquor in your system. Your head felt lighter already. 

“I’m not afraid of you, sweetheart. And I don’t go down without a fight,” he says with a smirk, leaning toward you slightly. He towered over you, which felt slightly intimidating. You couldn’t really read him well, either, which made it even more difficult. 

“What do you wanna know?” you ask, taking a hit and blowing it out of the side of your mouth. 

“Where are you from?” he asks, taking the blunt in his fingers as you pass it. 

“Here,” you answer bluntly, watching his lips purse as he takes a drag. It was way hotter than you expected it to be. “Well, not here exactly. I grew up in a town like, thirty minutes away. But I’ve been coming to Nashville all my life.”

“I see,” he says, a small smile on his face. You didn’t ask him where he was from– you already knew the answer, and he knew that. “Did you always know that you wanted to play music?”

“Pretty much, yeah. I started playing piano at 6, joined the jazz band in middle school, and it all just kind of grew from there. My high school band director is the one who set me up with my first ever paid gig, when I was 17. After that, I knew this was what I needed to do.” You can tell that he’s trying to hide his smile, but it’s not working. He was impressed by you, and for some reason, you liked that. 

“I did jazz band too, amongst other things. It was honestly a great start on music theory, learning about chord progressions and improvisation and stuff like that,” he says with a shrug, passing your blunt back to you. 

“Yeah, I agree. You learn a lot of important stuff there,” you reply, taking a hit. It was nice to have someone to talk music with, even if it was Sam. He knew what he was talking about, and it felt like he understood you. That’s not an easy feat. 

“Have you ever been in love?’ he asks, looking down at you. You expected to find a smirk on his face, but there wasn’t one there. 

“That’s a loaded question,” you joke, taking another hit as you try to think of what the hell to even say to that. “I don’t think I have, to be honest. There were times when I thought I was, but looking back…” you trail off. “Have you?”

“No,” he shakes his head, taking the blunt from your fingers and taking a hit. “Nothing ever stuck. Not sure why.” Surely you had a couple of good guesses, but you wouldn’t dare to say any now. The topic was somewhat vulnerable, which you didn’t expect from him. Why did he want to know this about you? You’re gonna take a mental note to ask about it another day when you’re both much more sober.  

Some time passes, as the two of you share the blunt in silence. Near the end of it, you pass him the blunt and let him finish it off, watching him flick the butt onto the sidewalk and stomp it out. He doesn’t make a move to go inside, however, but instead moves closer to you. As you look up at him, your mind starts to spin as his head reaches for your face, cupping your cheek. His thumb smoothes over your cheekbone, the rough callus on it sending shockwaves throughout your body. You’re not sure why you don’t pull away, even when his face starts getting closer and closer to yours.

“Don’t run away this time,” he whispers, his nose brushing against yours as your eyes travel to his lips. They looked soft and full, and you started to wonder if they would feel warm against yours. You knew you probably wouldn’t have to wonder much longer. For some reason, you didn’t want to run away. No, you wanted to stay. Something inside you wanted to know if you’d feel something– anything. 

Your eyes lock with his as his other hand finds its place on your waist, tugging you toward him slightly. You search his eyes, seeing if you could read his mind. What was going through it? You knew he’d been persistent with you before, but why did this feel different somehow? You let your nose brush against his again, as you feel his breath hot against your lips.

“Sam!” you hear someone exclaim from behind you, causing you to jump from the brash noise. 

“We’ll finish this later,” he whispers against the shell of your ear. You suck in a deep breath then quickly pull away, leaving at least a foot between you two as a girl approaches you– seemingly a fan. Sam puts on a brave face, smiling softly as he talks to her. He was gracious and kind, despite being visibly frustrated. 

“Do you… want me to take your picture?” you ask softly, to which she nods feverishly. After snapping a few photos on her phone, you hand it back to her with a shy smile. 

“So, who’s this?” she asks, turning to Sam. God, she was nosy. All the fans were, clearly. What did she care? Why would she need to know who Sam was spending his time with? Your angry internal rant comes to a full stop as Sam wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you into him.

“Actually, this is my girlfriend, Y/N,” he says proudly, his grip soft but strong on my side. You offer her a soft smile as her face lights up, and you know this will be plastered all over the internet by tomorrow. You suppose that was the whole point, though. This was bound to happen eventually, you just didn’t expect it to be on your first night out. You thought you’d have more time to prepare. 

Luckily for you both, this girl was way too drunk to bother asking too many other questions. Soon enough, she says her goodbyes and swiftly leaves. You breathe out a sigh of relief, laying your back against the wall once more. 

“Fuck, that was exhausting. How do you do that all the time?’ I ask jokingly, rubbing my temples. He lets out a soft laugh, which makes your lips turn upward into a smile almost immediately. 

“It’s not always that bad. Usually, they refrain from personal questions like that… sorry. I know I kinda put you on the spot there,” he offers genuinely, which you accept. 

“It’s not your fault, you didn’t know it would happen. I just wish I was more prepared– I mean, we don’t even have our backstory together or anything! We haven’t discussed any of the details at all,” you say, slightly exasperated. Another laugh leaves his lips. You think to yourself that you quite liked being the person who makes him laugh.

“Right, well I guess we’ll just have to figure that out then. We’ll need to be prepared, now that everyone is going to know,” he says. “How about we meet up for coffee on Monday and set all the details straight? That sound good?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you nod with a small smile. “I can do that.”

“Great, I’ll text you the details tomorrow then,” he says, reaching into his pocket for his phone. He sees the time and his eyes shoot open, not realizing how late it's gotten. “Shit, it got late on us. Can I call you a cab?” he asks, looking up from his phone to look at you.

“Oh, no that’s not necessary. I only live around the corner, I’ll walk,” you insist, though you’re surprised he cares that much. It was a side of him that you had yet to see.

“Then I’ll walk you home,” he says, not even letting you answer before starting to walk off. How he knew what direction it was in, you weren’t sure. You suppose he’s seen you leave that way before and leave it at that. 

Soon enough, you’re both stopped in front of your apartment building. It seems like you’re both unsure of how to say goodbye, considering the nature of your “relationship” was such a gray area. You knew he was about to kiss you earlier, and you knew that you were going to let him, but you’ve sobered up slightly now. It wasn’t a good idea.

“Goodnight, Sam,” you say softly, just choosing to back away without a proper goodbye in favor of avoiding any more awkwardness between the two of you.

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” he says, offering you a soft smile as he shoots you a wink. You watch as he turns to leave and walks back toward the bar to catch his Uber home. As he turns the corner, you quickly turn around and retreat inside, hurrying to your apartment before finally entering your bedroom. You lean your back against the door and sink to the floor, your mind slightly boggled by the entire evening. 

You have to admit that you ended up enjoying his company. The teasing was still excessive and he was arrogant, but there were times when this different guy shone through the cracks. You wanted to know that guy.

•┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈••✦ ♡ ✦••┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈•

As you’re sitting on your balcony on Sunday afternoon, enjoying the sunny weather with an iced coffee and a book in hand, you feel your phone buzz in your pocket. You slide a bookmark onto the page and shut the book, setting it down on your table next to your coffee before reaching into your back pocket to pull out your phone. 

Sam: We still on for tomorrow?

You hum to yourself, checking your calendar quickly to make sure you don’t have anything else going on. You thought that he might have forgotten about your plans to meet up tomorrow, since it was already well into the afternoon and you hadn’t heard from him. But you suppose he isn’t one to rise early, as Danny told you last week. You typically weren’t either, but today was an exception. 

You: Yeah, whenever works best for you. We could meet at the coffee shop across the street from Seb’s?

That place was your usual haunt, the baristas all knew your name by now. It was helpful for hangovers, so you always came in the morning after a night out and it soon became a habit. You knew Sam didn’t live in Midtown, but maybe he wouldn’t mind coming down. 

Sam: Sounds good, meet at 2 pm? I’ve got a short meeting with the guys in the morning.

You: Yeah, that’s good. See ya then.

He doesn’t respond from there, so you just leave it at that. You never took him for much of a texter, so you didn’t read too much into it. You slide your phone back into your pocket and open your book back up, picking up where you left off. 

Just as you were getting back in the groove of the story, you heard your apartment door close behind you. You turn around to see Lucy coming in from her weekend with her parents. She spots you outside and walks over, sliding the glass door open. 

“Hi, love,” she says, coming outside and sitting on the chair opposite you. 

“Hey, Luce. How was your weekend?” you ask, still keeping your eyes on your book. 

“It was good! Tommy had his graduation ceremony this weekend, so there was a big party,” she answers with a smile. Tommy is her younger brother, who’s just graduated high school. You never knew him well, since their age gap was so big, but he was a sweet kid. 

“That sounds nice!” you say, offering her a soft smile. 

“How was yours? Anything interesting happen?” she asks, raising an eyebrow at you. She knows something.

“What did you see?” you ask bluntly, getting right to the point. A chuckle leaves her lips as she smiles at you.

“Oh, nothing. Just saw a few pictures of you and a certain rockstar cuddled up at Seb’s last night, plastered all over their update accounts on Instagram,” she says with a smug smile.

“Why on Earth do you follow their update accounts, you weirdo!” you say, barely getting the sentence out before you both erupt into laughter. 

“When you told me you’d be pretending to date him, I went and followed some of them! I knew you were bound to make it on there eventually and I wanted to see my best friend become famous!” she exclaims, pulling her phone out to show you the posts. There were photos of you both in your booth and standing outside the club. You did look rather close. 

“I am not becoming famous. It’s just a couple of photos,” you say curtly. “And he might have told a fan I was his girlfriend,” you mumble at the end, hoping she didn’t hear.

“He what?” she yells, and your hand shoots to cover her mouth with a giggle.

“Shhh, shut up, the neighbors already think we’re crazy,” you laugh, taking your hand away after a moment. “It’s not a big deal. We knew he’d have to make it official eventually. We’re meeting up tomorrow to get our story together and stuff, so that we know what to tell the fans in case we get asked anything on the spot.”

“Wow, you guys are moving fast,” she teases. She had no idea. You were tempted to tell her about the kiss you almost shared the night before, but inevitably you decide not to. Talking about it will just complicate things even more.

“Whatever. He’s actually not that bad at times– but don’t tell him I said that,” you say with a small smile across your lips. “We just have more in common than I expected.”

“I’ve been telling you that for months, Y/N,” she says sarcastically, getting up from her chair. “I’m gonna go rot in bed for a while, talk to you later.”

“Okay, have fun,” you say, your smile widening as you wave her off and then open your book back up again. 

You really couldn’t stay concentrated on reading today, it seems. You try your best to refocus, and you eventually do, reading until the sun starts to go down. Soon enough, you retreat to bed, getting an early rest before your coffee “date” with Sam tomorrow. That should be… interesting, to say the least. 

•┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈••✦ ♡ ✦••┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈•

As you try and get ready to go the next afternoon, you’re completely stuck on what to wear. What does someone wear to a coffee date with their fake boyfriend to discuss the terms of their fake relationship? God, even phrasing that question made your head spin. You tried asking Lucy for advice but she was no help, just resorting to light teasing and not giving any actual suggestions.

“Why do you care what you wear? It’s not like he’s your actual boyfriend,” she said with a smug smile. You didn’t grace her with a reply, opting just to shut the door in her face and turn back to your closet. 

You sigh to yourself before sifting through your clothes, pulling out a white linen button-up shirt. You decide to just go with a black tank top, with the white shirt on top, left unbuttoned. The weather was quite warm with the summer heat really starting to settle in. You throw on a pair of jean shorts, slip on your low-top white vans, and then throw your things into your tote bag before heading out the door. It was only a few minutes before 2 at this point, but you didn’t want to arrive too early. You assumed he’d be late himself, anyway. 

As you turn the corner and cross the street, you see him sitting at a small table out front. Damn, guess you were wrong. Again.

“Sam,” you greet quietly as he stands up from the table. 

“Nice of you to finally show up, Y/N. Was starting to think you stood me up,” he says with a smirk, opening the door for you. 

“Shut up, I’m two minutes late,” you answer with a scoff, getting in line to order a drink. He stands next to you, leaning against the counter. You decide to stand in silence until after you place your order since your bickering wasn’t really the best idea in public. You order a chai tea latte and Sam just gets an americano, and the two of you find a table in the corner while you wait. 

“So, let’s get started then, shall we?” Sam says, leaning back in his chair. “Where’d we meet?” Your lips quirked upward into a smile.

“Okay, getting right to the point, I see,” I joke, folding my hands and placing them on the table. “Well, that one’s easy. We met at the club. We’ll just say that you came to some of my gigs and just liked me sooo much that you had to say hi,” I say, fighting the urge to roll my eyes at the absurdity of it all. You watch as a chuckle leaves his mouth, and there goes that feeling again. 

“Alright, sure,” he laughs as a barista comes to put our drinks on the table. “Thanks,” he says to them, taking a sip of his drink before turning back to you. “And we can say we started seeing each other… when? Maybe March?”

“Yeah, that sounds fine,” you shrug, taking a sip of your chai. “That won’t explain the girls you’ve had… relations with between then and now, though,” you add, looking up at him. He rolls his eyes, crossing his arms as he leans back in his chair. 

“If you’re jealous, just say that,” he smirks. “We can just say that we only became exclusive recently.” You quirk an eyebrow at him, but quickly decide it’s not worth the argument, opting to just scoff and change the subject. 

“What do we say when they ask why I’m not going on the tour with you guys?” you ask, adjusting nervously in your seat as a look washes over his face that you can’t quite interpret. 

“Are you not?” Sam asks, the tone in his voice sounding slightly accusatory. You’re not even quite sure how to reply, this wasn’t something you ever discussed.

“Wait, do you want me to?” you ask, straightening your posture. “I still have to work, you know. This is how I make a living, I can’t just ditch Seb for weeks on end.” He ponders your words for a moment, then leans forward a bit. 

“You don’t need all that. Jodie said she’d help set you up in your career, and she meant that,” he says sincerely. “She can pay you for the entire time we’re gone, if that’s the problem. I’m sure we can find something for you to do on the tour. And then when we come back, we can get you in the studio to record your album.”

It all almost felt too good to be true. Too easy. What was in it for them, truly? Sure, having a likable and successful girlfriend would be good for Sam’s image, but is that really all it is? Why does it feel like you’re getting way more out of this than they are? 

“I don’t know, Sam. I really don’t feel like I’ll belong there. What could I possibly do on tour besides act as your arm candy?” you say bitterly. 

“Y/N, you’re not just my arm candy. It isn’t like that,” he says dejectedly. His eyes scan your face but you don’t seem convinced. 

“You may be strikingly beautiful, but you’re much more than that to me, trust me,” he teases, coaxing a smile out of you. When he sees that his plan is working, he continues. “Maybe you could help me compose some piano fills for the shows or something.”

“You’d really let me do that?” you ask, your eyes lighting up slightly. A soft smile grows across his lips. 

“Sure. You won’t catch me admitting this ever again, so don’t get your hopes up, sweetheart… but you’re a talented musician. I’m sure we could cook something up together,” he says. 

You look over at him for a moment, trying to figure out if this is the same Sam that you used to argue with all those weeks ago. Obviously, it is, and he’s still keeping you on your toes, but something’s changed. You’re starting to think that this partnership may work out after all. 

“Okay. Alright, I’ll come,” you answer. “How long is it, anyway?”

“We’ll only be gone a month, and then we’ll have off until the end of the summer,” he assures you. It can’t be that bad, you suppose. 

“Okay, so we have that covered, I guess,” you say, taking another sip of your drink. “I guess that just leaves one more thing. We should set up some rules.”

“Rules? Seriously?” Sam scoffs, leaning back in his seat again. 

“Yes, seriously. We have to be on the same page or else this is gonna end up becoming a big mess,” you say, returning his annoyed look. 

“Fine. What rules are we talking about here?” he concedes.

“Well, first of all, do the rest of the guys know? Do they know it’s fake?” you ask.

“They think it’s real,” he shrugs. “Jodie thought it’d be better that way.”

“Okay, we’ll keep it that way then. But Lucy knows it’s fake,” you admit, and he gives you a disapproving look. “I tell her everything, it’s not my fault! But she’s the only one, even Seb thinks it’s real somehow.”

“Right, well. To the rest of the world, it’s real then. Anything else?” he asks, raising his eyebrow at you. 

“We should agree that this,” you start, pointing your finger between Sam and yourself, “is only in public. When we’re alone, it’s just me and you, none of this happy couple stuff.”

“Well, you don’t have to tell me twice,” he says with a smirk, “...unless that’s something you’ll have trouble with, sweetheart?” he teases. 

“Yeah, right. I just can’t seem to keep my hands off you, my bad,” you answer sarcastically. “Whatever, so that’s handled. Have anything you wanna add?” you ask, sipping from your mug.

“Yeah, what happens if one of us forms any sort of…” he trails off, pondering his words carefully. “...feelings.” Your eyebrows shoot up as you look over at him, almost spitting out your drink. You swallow it quickly and clear your throat. 

“Feelings?’ you laugh. “Not that that’s ever gonna be a problem, but… if it is, then I guess we’ll just have to cross that bridge when we get there.”

“What, you’re not scared that you’ll fall in love with me?” he asks, leaning over the table slightly. You mirror his actions, your faces mere inches away. 

“Not in the slightest, Samuel,” you answer proudly, your eyes piercing into his. You weren’t going to back down, and neither was he. As you watch his eyes drift to your lips, you clear your throat, leaning back again. 

“Anything else?’ you ask, looking down at your mug in your hands as you avoid his gaze. 

“Nope,” he says, popping the ‘p’ loudly. You can just hear the smirk in his voice. You’re not giving in that easily, you know that the second you look up at him, your heart will jump into your throat. 

“Great, so that settles it,” you say, taking the last sip and then putting your empty mug down on the table. You watch as his hand extends out to yours, to shake it.

“Girlfriend?” he asks, smirking at you as you finally look up at him. You have to hold in a sigh as you offer your hand to him, shaking it.

“Girlfriend.” 

His eyes dart between your eyes and your lips again before he brings your hand up to his mouth, kissing the back of it lightly. It takes everything in you not to fold right then and there, frankly, but you’re stronger than that.

His lips were just as soft as you thought they’d be. Not that you’ve thought about them before, of course not. Nonetheless, they were soft, and so warm. They lingered far longer than you wanted them to, and your instincts caused you to pull your hand away, placing it back in your lap. At that, you abruptly stand up from your seat, grab your tote bag, and put it on your shoulder. 

“I have to– I’ve gotta go,” you say softly, and he quickly stands up.

“Okay, I’ll walk you home,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck nervously as he follows you out the door. Again? That’s the second time just this week… You have to admit that it was thoughtful, but you don’t want to think too much of it. It’s just a nice gesture, nothing serious. He might be an arrogant asshole, but you guess he’s still a gentleman.

You walk beside each other on the sidewalk as you make your way down the street to your apartment. Every once in a while, his hand brushes yours as you walk, sending jolts throughout your body that you’re determined to ignore. You wondered why he asked you about the possibility of feelings being involved. Was that something he was worried about? Should you be worried about it? Surely not. Lucy seems to think you should be, if you told her about this she’d freak. But it’s not a big deal, right?

You stop in front of your building, the awkward opportunity of a goodbye leering over you both once more. You go back up toward your building in the same fashion as the other night, but a strong hand stops you before you get the chance to get too far. 

“Josh is having a party on Friday,” he says quickly, as if he was spitting it out. “I told him I'd bring you.” You stop and look up at him, his grip on your upper arm still remaining.

“Oh. Yeah, I’ll be there,” you answer with a soft smile. His eyes light up, like he was expecting you to put up a fight.

“Cool. I’ll pick you up at 8?” he asks. You nod, as his eyes continue to burn into yours. God, what now? Before you have the chance to do something awkward, his other arm lands on your waist and he bends down, placing a kiss on your temple and then backing away toward the sidewalk, leaving you in silent shock. “See you then, sweetheart.”

“Uh– yeah, see you,” you mutter, your eyes trained on him as he turns the corner. What the fuck was that?

As you slam the door of your apartment, you rush off to your room with hopes of avoiding any interrogation from Lucy. It doesn’t work, however. 

“Y/N,” she opens your door with a smug look on her face, leaning against the door frame. “How was your date?” You scoff at her as you throw yourself onto your bed. 

“I don’t even know where to start,” you groan as she enters the room and climbs into bed next to you. 

She stays sitting up as you lay your head on the pillow, and her fingers comb through your curls as you debrief the events of your afternoon. Despite her occasional jokes and teasing, she seems to be really supportive of you going on tour with the band. After all, it will be a good start for the future of your music career. But at what cost? What will it be like to spend a month straight with Sam Kiszka and his band of brothers? You still had two weeks to prepare, but even that didn’t feel like enough. Your world was moving a mile a minute, and it was only just getting started. 

•┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈••✦ ♡ ✦••┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈•

Leave a comment or send me a message if you want to be added to the taglist for this series, or if you want to be tagged in all of my stories!

Taglist:

@highladyofasgard @gvfpal @childinthegardenn @myleftsock @peaceloveunitygvf @gretasfallingsky @gretavanfan @itsafullmoon @jordie-gvf

[packagecfgirlyevil]

closed starter // @mutatedangels merrick & jody.

the first day of kindergarten.

it was an important moment, and one she had vaguely had a twinge about jody seeing - helping lucas pick out his favorite outfit to impress the other kids with, stealing grapes as she packed them into his lunch, giving their son a pep talk.

things were....better, now, she supposed. he knew, and he had stayed in touch. luke still didn't know who jody was, but she'd even let them meet for the first time after jody's last season was over and he came home to visit - it had taken months for her to trust them to meet, but she wasn't prepared for the this is your father conversation. not yet.

still, as she made sure his bag was double packed for the next morning, she was surprised to hear a knock at the door - the hour was late, lucas fast asleep in his room with the soft sounds of his radio playing quietly to help lull him into dreamland, and she was nervous enough about the next day without the added responsibility of inviting anyone over. she presumed it was her mother - three streets away but not far enough some days, probably coming to check in on her and make sure that she was handling her sons first real day of school as best she could.

instead, jody was there - her brow furrowed in confusion, because she was 99% sure he was supposed to have a game the next night in denver, but she didn't slam the door shut as quickly as she might have even a few months ago. "what are you doing here?' she asked instead, curious instead of accusatory, her head tilted to the side. "isn't your coach going to kill you for skipping like, what, the third game of the season?"

[abeltownshipslittlebitch]

Tom: Everything will be ok. You can not stop it.

Tom: Everything will be fine. You have no choice.

Jody: What kind of pep talk is that?

Tom: Ominous positivity.

@dorkylittleweirdo

[ask-scrafty]

Diane: Big Bad Sis out here having a wittle pep talk with a itty bitty baby pubby~ Jody: Don’t you have some nighttime skincare routine you need to go do Diane: Psssh. Whatever. Diane walks down the hallway and back into the living room, leaving Jody alone with the puppy. The scrafty looks down at the puppy, who was beginning to wriggle in her hands in a attempt to paw at her face. Jody: Ignore her. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about Puppy: waff. Jody: See you get it. Jody looks around the corner and back into the kitchen, where Nana was shining a light in Solo’s eyes. A look of disgust begins to form on Jody’s face.. The scrafty sets down the puppy on the floor, watching it promptly flop over onto its back and kick in the air without a care in the world. Jody: I have to figure something out... Puppy: waF Jody: I KNOW we have to wipe his memory anyways buut... You don’t get to insult my family and get off that easy. I want that guy to shit himself and question his reality before we let him go. Puppy: Wafff.. WahWApfh.. Jody: Oh right. I should take you out to go potty huh? Puppy: WAF.

[youchangedmedestiel]

Crazy ex-girlfriend x Supernatural

My crazy thing of the day is that I listened to Crazy ex-grilfriend songs and thought: who could sing that in Supernatural?

So there it goes:

DEAN:

“I’m just a girl in love” is so Dean. 

“You Stupid Bitch” is Dean hating himself (that could be Cas too I guess).

“Angry Mad aka Josh's Angry Dance” that one is obviously Dean.  

“Getting’ bi” yeah well that one is even more obvious.

SAM and DEAN:

“Face your fears” because that’s just how Sam and Dean roll and they don’t really have any other choice.

“I have friends” this is Sam and Dean trying to convince themselves especially in early seasons.

SAM, CAS and DEAN:

“Friendtopia” is kind of the pep talk Sam, Cas and Dean say to themselves before preventing another apocalypse.

CAS AND DEAN:

“Dear Joshua Felix Chan” but more like “Dear Dean Winchester” sang by Cas (it works in reverse too tbh).

“Romantic moments” that’s Dean because Cas is such a clueless little angel.  

“Horny Angry Tango” it’s Cas and Dean during their usual bickering (like in episode 12x10 “Lily Sunder Has Some Regrets” just to name one).

“You Go First” is Dean and Cas during breakup arc or divorce arc, your choice.

“It Was a Shit Show” would have been funny instead of Cas’s confession scene in the dungeon, less heart crusher, less soul destroyer you know.

“The Group Mind Has Decided You're In Love” is, well, it’s us with Destiel, we haven't decided it because it's there of course, but it's funny (plus they are dressed as cowboys during the song so duh!)

OTHER CHARACTERS:

“So Maternal” that’s Jody taking everyone home and raising them.

“I’m the villain in my own story” is soooo Crowley, that one is just perfect for him.

“I’m a good person” is kind of Lucifer trying to convince Team Free Will they can work together and should trust him.

BONUS:

“The Math of Love triangles” is Dean "stuck" in Purgatory with Cas and Benny.

“Oh My God I Think I Like You” is Dean about Cas ruining him.

I didn’t think it would be that long actually, but it was fun to do. Maybe there is more that can be applied, feel free to add if I missed them.

Also, now, I want to see them singing those songs with some change in the lyrics to fit better, because I can picture it so easily. Yeah, I want to see that on my screen. Why did I do that?

(If you haven't watched Crazy ex-girlfriend, I recommand it. Weirdly it has nothing to do with Supernatural but even more weirdly lots of songs work for the SPN characters.)

[deanwasalwaysbi]

I have just fallen deeply in love with Kim Rhodes. Don't let this get missed in the Dean's birthday swell. It's too good.

Kim performs as Jody to Claire, but anyone who's hurting now or in the future needs this pep talk. Watch this when you're ready to have feelings.

[wellitsnotorigami]

“I always think as well, thinking about auditions and stuff, ‘cos you’re the person who has to go back in the room if you’ve been told no six billion times, it’s only you that kinda gets you back in there with a positive attitude.  You’ve got to be your biggest support.”

[mw-draws]

I love the fact that I've never really had a crush on any guys, but when it comes to the fact that I've never had a crush on a girl either, I'm like "oh no, I'm a fake bi. That's it, I'm just faking it, I'm not really bi-" but like, sis grow up, you don't have to have a crush on anyone right now. Go live your life and stop stressing. Who cares if you haven't had a proper crush on anyone before, you'll find someone eventually. For now, just focus on being happy and stanning Jodie Whittaker

[whifferdills]

chibnall era's equal embrace of naturalistic slow-moving arcs and on-the-nose Doctor Who-er-y threw me at first ngl but now it's kind of my favorite thing ever. like both Jodie Whittaker delivering pep talks like she's doing a cheeseball freestyle rap and Mandip Gill playing Theeee achiest squashed-down yearning are meant in earnest and for you to take in simultaneously and the effect works in a way that imo the Moffat and RTD eras never quite pulled off. maybe a lack of irony or self-consciousness? altho it's not like Chibbwho is unaware of itself it just like. moves more like classic who, i think

[wearywinchester]

Something Old and Something New — Part Three

Mechanic!Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: When life takes a turn and you take an unexpected break from college in Stanford with your best friend Sam, you return home to your job at your family’s co-owned garage. You return home to work alongside the guy you thought you hated—Dean Winchester.

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: angst, mild swearing, mentions of alcohol, jealousy, arguing, fluff

Today was the day.

The day your best friend Sam would be back in town any minute now. The day you’d see the expression to match the words he’d spoken to you on the phone just a few nights back. You told him about Stanford, about the way you felt uncertain of your return there and the way you felt about finishing your degree. Of the way you felt you might not have wanted to go there in the first place. Well, you did, but the beginning always seemed to be different.

But you told him. You finally broke it to him after days and days of stewing on it since you’d come back home, after days and weeks and months of letting it simmer back at college. No matter how much you gave yourself a pep talk for that conversation, told yourself it’d be fine and no matter how many deep breaths you took, you still found yourself shaking as you held your phone to your ear.

He was just as understanding as you thought he’d be, a quality Sam Winchester had that would never falter. You could hear it in the way he sighed on the other end, not one of disappointment but one sounding as though he’d already known this phone call was going to happen. You were sure he did, you don’t think you were great at hiding your discontent, but it only did so much to soothe your nerves on the subject. Because truthfully, it was still a big deal, still a big decision that you seemingly already made for yourself without having gone through with it.

But the weight that sat heavy on your shoulders felt a little lighter, that tension easing a little more.

Now, now you’re at Benny’s house, lights strung from the back porch just waiting to be switched on in the evening hours. The ones he’d used each and every time an event like this happened in the warmer months. The grill was going and cooking some of the best food you’d ever have, the smell of it filling the air and making its way into the house. Lawn chairs were set up in the backyard as family and friends made their way in until the whole group had arrived and filled the late Saturday afternoon air with the boisterous cheer that came with them.

Mary had brought her family famous homemade apple pies, a slice already taken out of one of them with only Dean to blame. There’s no way he would admit to it on his own despite being the pie enthusiast of the bunch, not a chance, but you knew by the scent of cinnamon on his breath when he hugged you, by the residue you swiped from the corner of his mouth that it was him. Mary knew just by the look on her son’s face, getting him a light smack to the back of his head for digging in.

Bobby had brought more than enough beer and Jody just the same but you were sure the accidental blunder wouldn’t be a problem with this group.

It was shaping up to be a nice afternoon, the sun shining goldenly and the fresh air warm, a gentle breeze sifting through at just the right speed. The garage was closed for the weekend, offering a little break from some work for the first time in a few weeks. Benny’s old radio sat tucked on the back porch, classic rock playing as expected but it was more so playing softly in the background of everyone’s conversations more than anything at that point.

You wouldn’t miss these occasions for anything.

It wasn’t until then that your eyes laid on the younger Winchester as he walked out of the back door to join everyone else, a grocery bag of chips and pretzels in his hand and a smile on his face at the sight of his family talking amongst themselves in the comfort of the yard.

You were the first to get on your feet and hug him, arms tight around him and he nearly dropped the stuff in his hand. It was safe to say you missed him over the time you’d spent away from Stanford, and you were sure that much was obvious.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you missed me,” he chuckles, his free arm wrapping around you. You squeeze him all the more tightly, a hum having been your response as your smile stays the same. “And here I thought you abandoned me.”

You looked up at him then, lips pursed and gaze narrowed. “You know that wouldn’t happen in a million years.”

“I know, I know,” he says, eyes rolling lightheartedly as he smiles.

“Well if it isn’t my baby brother,” a voice sounds, that ever familiar voice, rumbling just behind you deeply.

“Do you have to say that every time?” Sam huffs, humor on the edge of his words as the corner of his mouth quirks up, his brow raised in an effort to maintain at least a little annoyance at his brother’s choice of words.

“You’re damn right I do. What kinda big brother do I look like?”

Sam tilted his head, biting the inside of his cheek as he set the bag down. “Do you really want me to answer that?”

The humor in Dean’s expression dwindled in that moment at Sam’s words, lips pursing before the corner of his mouth tugs upwards once more. “C’mere, Sammy.”

He tugs him in close for a hug and a pat on his back, his smile quick to return.

Things went as good as ever the more the day went on, the afternoon slipping into the evening as the burgers and barbecue rapidly became less and less until it’d been eaten. Dean had been responsible for at least three burgers and another two slices of pie, having you hot on his heels in a close second.

An old football had been tossed around, paired with a game or two of catch that’d become very close to turning competitive once Dean got ahold of his old mitt and you found yourself taking a turn up against him. Turns out you were far better than he expected, far better than you let on, and the surprise on his face had given you more than enough amusement.

You’ve got a few tricks up your sleeve and Dean was quickly starting to realize that.

Now you’d been looking for him as the sun dipped down lower in the sky, the chilly evening air beginning to take hold.

You laid your eyes on the green eyed Winchester, the one you’d found yourself wanting to see since he’d disappeared earlier that day after he gave Sam the hug you knew he’d get. You weren’t exactly sure just when it was that he’d run off, or if he even had for that matter, but your habit of scanning the room for him had left you coming up short each and every time you’d done it until now.

You caught sight of him on the back porch, the empty beer bottle in his hand being tossed in the recycling bin as he stood over the near empty cooler. It wasn’t until you’d walked up to him with crossed arms that he looked up, squinting against the setting sun to get a glimpse of you.

“Would you look who it is?” He says, digging around for the beer he likes.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugs his shoulders, a smile playing on his lips.

“Feel like I haven’t seen you all day, sweetheart,” he says as he swipes another beer from the cooler before closing the lid, standing upright again.

“And here I thought you’d run off ‘cause I beat you at your own game of ball,” you said, watching his eyes roll as you look up at him with a half-grin. “Seriously, what’s going on with you?”

He looked up at you briefly, the corner of his mouth quirking upwards as a laugh puffed out through his nose, one that’s half-humorous.

“Nothing,” he says.

You nod with a hum, entirely unconvinced as you stood there in front of him and he knew that, could tell by that look you’re giving him. You’d be right not to believe him, but he won’t admit it. He wouldn’t admit to the jealousy that simmered in the very pit of his stomach each time Sam stole your attention. He wouldn’t because he felt stupid for feeling that way. For feeling it over the fact that you’d spent most of the afternoon with Sam the moment he’d arrived.

He was your best friend, he knew it’d happen and he knew it with the way you talked about Sam, eyes bright and smile beaming at the mention of his brother. It made his stomach twist and churn and he knew it shouldn’t have, he knew he shouldn’t have been feeling that tight coil of jealousy building within himself over the mere thought of it but his mind took every scenario and ran with it. He felt childish but he couldn’t help it either.

He found himself wanting to be selfish and have you all to himself, but part of him told himself that’d be absurd. You were Y/n, the one he bickered with and the one that got on his nerves on a good day. But he knew that was changing, he knew it from the moment he started thinking about you more often than not, by the very way he enjoyed your company, having realized there might never have been a time he didn’t save for when you were kids who picked on each other.

He knew it was different and maybe that was the problem, and maybe he did run off for a little while just to ignore the way you spent time with Sam.

“You’re a terrible liar, you know,” you said, nudging his boot with your shoe.

“Is that right, sweetheart?” He asks, taking a sip from his beer, then another.

“Yeah, it is, Winchester,” you say, a smile pulling at your lips. You glanced over your shoulder, eyeing two empty lawn chairs across the yard. “I don’t suppose you’re too grumpy to sit with me, are you?”

Your smile widens as you watch his brows furrow, a scoff leaving his lips as you turn on your heel and head towards the chairs.

“Grumpy? Who says I’m grumpy?” He says behind you.

You sigh as you sit down, trying not to take notice of the way he pulls his chair just a little closer to your own as you sit paces away from the fire Benny and Bobby sparked up in the pit. He tucked his beer in the cup holder, crossing one ankle over the other before tipping his head back against the back of his chair, a smile on his lips.

“What?” You ask, the curiosity in your tone as you sit up a little straight.

“Nothin’,” he mumbles, head shaking as his eyes fall closed for a moment.

“Dean, spit it out,” you say, swatting lightly at his shoulder.

You watched the grin on his lips widen a fraction, lips pursing to try and hide it but failing miserably. “It seems to me like you miss my company.”

It was your turn to scoff as you rolled your eyes, “don’t get ahead of yourself, Winchester.”

But he knew better than to believe that, because you can deny it all you want but the tone in your voice says otherwise. He can hear your smile in your words, and upon stealing a glance at you, he sees that very smile as you shake your head in faux annoyance.

You tug your flannel tighter around yourself as you stretch your legs for a moment, taking notice of the way the arms of your chairs had been brushing over top of each other, of the way you’d been close enough to bump elbows. You tried not to think of the fact that he’d put himself that much closer to you on his own, for reasons you hadn’t been aware of.

You tried not to let that flutter in your stomach go awry, tried not to let it burst into more like a kid with a crush because that would simply be foolish. Tried not to dwell on the fact that he’d been sitting with you, at the way you’d made him smile, otherwise your cheeks would burn and burn, hotter than the fire in front of you.

The transition between two people determined to annoy the other to the best of their abilities, and the way the two of you acted now had been one you didn’t quite know how you got to. You came back to Kansas with dread knotting up inside your stomach at the mere mention of the older Winchester, the very thought of him having you roll your eyes. To be fair, you still do that quite a bit, but now you find yourself seeking out his company when he strays a little too far. Now you find yourself smiling like a fool in his presence in a way that has you hiding it behind wit and humor.

You had no idea he’d felt the very same way.

You looked over to him, eyes on him as he looked ahead. The glow of the fire danced across his skin, shadowing every contour of his face, illuminating the sheen of sweat glimmering lightly over the bridge of his freckled nose.

You watched as he took a swig of his beer before putting the bottle in its rightful spot, his gaze shifting to you in a moment’s notice.

“What?” He asked, the single word amused as he caught you staring.

The corner of your mouth darts upward and you look away, head shaking and heart fluttering. “Nothin’.”

You heard his snort, knew he was shaking his head just as much as you were. “If anyone’s the terrible liar here, it’s you, sweetheart.”

It’s your turn to laugh as you look at your lap, a moment passing before you look over at him once more. “‘M serious. It’s nothing, De.”

“Right, right. Whatever you say.”

He caught your gaze as his smile mirrored your own, green eyes glimmering against the light of the flames just feet away as those dimples by the very corners of his mouth appear ever so slightly. The teasing behind your grin softened considerably to a genuine smile, his knee nudging yours in a lightheartedly action to accompany his words.

It wasn’t until that moment that you were aware of just how close you’d been, close enough to feel his breath sweep over your lips and to smell the cinnamon of the pie he’d eaten. Close enough to have your cheeks burning over it.

But the moment was only that.

“Y/n.” You cleared your throat as you sat a little straighter in your chair, head turning in the direction of Sam’s voice. He stood there, hand running through his hair as he suppressed a yawn. “Ready to head home for the night?”

You smiled softly at him, nodding. You missed the way the softness of Dean’s grin had fallen as his jaw tensed ever so slightly, the inside of his cheek sitting between his teeth.

You were in a daze for a brief moment as you sat on the edge of your seat before you turned to Dean, hand reaching up to grab his chin softly in a lighthearted pinch, the pad of your thumb resting over the dimple sitting pretty in it.

“Night, Dean,” you say, getting up from where you sat with him.

He smiles softly, swallowing thickly as he watches you stand there. He swallowed down that feeling bubbling up and threatening to spill out. Because it was him that you rode with to Benny’s house that day, listening to Zeppelin with the windows down. It was him that you’d been seemingly content with riding along with, and it was him that had plans to drive you back home. And now those plans had changed and there he sat by himself as you smiled that smile at him with his brother just over your shoulder.

“Night, sweetheart.”

—

Things were different.

Things were vastly different from what they were nearly three weeks ago back at your Uncle Benny’s. And things were a whole new kind of different from the time you first came back to that very day in question when Sam had come back into town.

You don’t know what it was, couldn’t narrow down the possibilities of what could have changed between you and Dean, what could have changed him. Maybe it was something that you’d never end up knowing in the long run, and maybe it was nothing at all. Maybe the days and weeks you’d spent working alongside one another without so much of that bickering, no matter how lighthearted, was just that.

He was happy as ever to see his brother, you knew for a fact he would be because that’s how it’s always been. But ever since that get-together, it was different.

“What is your problem?”

He snorted, his laugh void of humor as he looked away, tongue swiping along the inside of his cheek that was all telling of the anger that was simmering in the pit of his stomach.

“I don’t have one, sweetheart,” he says, the nickname less than fond in that moment as he tossed an empty bottle of oil in the trash to his right, taking the rag in his hand to wipe away the little bit of mess he made having been far too distracted thinking about you with that crease between his brows, that brooding frown on his lips.

You knew for a fact his words have been anything but truthful, the complete opposite as you stand in front of him, watching his attention pull from you in favor of looking under the hood of the car he’d been working on. A job that easily could have been done by now had his mind not been so preoccupied with the very person who’d asked him what his problem was.

He knew you saw right through him, he was a terrible liar when it came to you and he knew that. It’s not like it hadn’t been so terribly obvious that he had one, it was just as close to saying he did without actually saying it.

You saw it with the way he didn’t linger at the front desk as often to talk to you, to swipe the candy you’d had in that jar you kept just to see you roll your eyes. You saw it with the way he’d struck up fewer conversations, more about work and less about personal talk. At the crease etched deeper between his brows and the dimples pressed at the corners of his mouth in a display of his discontent. It was different and it was quiet.

Actions all staved off by the occasional smile. He still brought you coffee and he still waited for you to drive off first at closing time. But it was lined with an edge of tension.

“You’re lying,” you say, brows furrowing as you cross your arms over your chest.

“I’m not lying, Y/n. I’m busy,” he mumbles, tugging his hand away and shaking it out when his finger gets poked by a jagged car part.

“You’re being weird, Dean,” you press, insistent to pull whatever he’s got going on out of him to talk about it. He is acting weird and you know it. If the days and weeks and months and years you’d known Dean Winchester, he hasn’t quite acted like this.

He straightens his stance a bit more as he turns to face you with a glance on the brink of being annoyed, a huff blowing past his lips. You simply raise your brow in your own persistence, lips pursed lightly.

“Are you done?”

“Not until you tell me why you’re acting weird. And don’t tell me there’s nothing ‘cause I know you a little better than that,” you say, watching his brows drop from how they were raised, those very dimples by his mouth deepening as he stands mere inches from you and casts his gaze down at you.

“Just having an off day. ‘S that a good enough answer for you, sweetheart?” He asks, the corner of his mouth quirking up.

“No,” you say. You watch as he rolls his eyes and shakes his head, turning in his heel with a chuckle as he continues his work. “Considering you’ve been like this ever since Benny’s barbecue, it’s not a good enough answer.”

“Then tell me, Y/n. My baby brother came home from college for the first time in months. Do enlighten me on what it was that day that could possibly make me Oscar the Grouch,” he says, flashing you a look.

You heave a sigh, heavy and impatient as you bite the inside of your cheek, feeling as though you’re going in circles with no end in sight. His stubbornness was stronger than ever in that moment as he brushed everything off, as he acted nonchalant despite the clear irritation simmering away within him.

“Would it kill you to be straightforward, Dean?” You ask, your own annoyance wrapping around every word. “Seriously, what’s your problem?”

“Why don’t you ask Sammy?” He says, voice low and muffled from where he stood facing away from you.

You frown in confusion at the question. “What?”

“I said why don’t you ask Sammy?” He repeats, and now you’re sure you heard him correctly as he turns his head but still avoids your gaze.

You try to make sense of what he’d just said, standing still in your spot as you watch his white-knuckled grip on the edge of the car’s front end. Of the crease between his brows and the tension increasing in his jaw that told you he wasn’t joking, that he was in fact very serious.

It took a second, a minute even, before it clicked for you. “Wait a minute, are you jealous?”

He laughs then, bitter as he wipes the grease from his hands on the tattered rag he kept tucked in his back pocket.

“You think I’m jealous of my brother?” He says, tone full of a surprise you knew wasn’t real.

“Yeah, Dean, I do,” you say, gazing up at him. “You’ve been acting weird ever since I told you Sam was coming home to visit, and now it makes sense why.”

“Easy there, detective. Don’t get ahead of yourself,” he says, trying his hardest to stave off the way his heart had been hammering in his chest and the way he wanted so badly to admit that maybe he was, even though it’d been painfully obvious.

He wouldn’t though, he’d keep being stubborn because he felt that was in his best interest to be.

“You always do this,” you huff, your frustration evident.

“Do what?”

“You keep skirting around the obvious, Dean. You always do that when you don’t want to talk about something. I know that about you. You can say otherwise all you want, I don’t really care,” you say, voice rising slightly in your anger as you feel your cheeks burn. Your chest heaved a bit more than normal, heart pounding in your chest as you stared up at him. “Why can’t you just admit it?”

His gaze on you is stoic, nostrils flaring and lips still pursed as he looks down at you. The flurry of emotions he felt was a little harder to see outwardly, but you knew they were there. You knew it just like you knew there had to be a myriad of thoughts running through his head, but what they’d been about was something you didn’t.

Moments passed like that, seconds, until his expression changed, a humorless chuckle rumbling in the back of his throat as he shook his head.

“For not wanting to be a lawyer, you damn sure know how to argue,” he said, a bite behind his words that had your cheeks burning hotter.

Now it’s your turn to laugh, partly out of surprise at his words, and partly to stave off the tears that pressed heavily behind your eyes the more you thought about them. The hurt you felt in that moment had struck you harder than you cared to admit, not so much at his dig as the very fact that you were arguing with him to begin with.

It wasn’t unlike the two of you to toss around witty comments about the other, to bicker over anything, most often lightheartedly. The two of you had been like that with each other your entire lives. But this, this was different. It was different because you enjoyed his company more often than not. It was different because you knew you didn’t hate him, you don’t think you ever did.

“Maybe I will go back to Stanford with Sam. You know, since I’m such an outstanding lawyer.”

You watch as he nodded, the corner of his mouth quirking upwards as he looked away for a moment and really thought about what you said. Of the very words spoken out of anger just to make him angry and it worked. He didn’t know the meaning of your words other than the way they fed the jealousy brewing in the pit of his stomach, a feeling that was rapidly beginning to boil over.

“That’s a great idea. Hell, I’ll even pack your bags,” he says, smug and entirely amused as he watches your brows furrow.

It wasn’t until you shook your head, it wasn’t until he saw the way your eyes glossed over and your expression turned angrier in an attempt to hide that vulnerability that his amusement dissolved. Without another word, you swiped your keys from the counter, strong-willed as you twist the doorknob and leave, slamming the door behind you.

His jaw tenses and his lip quivered under his anger, flinching at the action and fist clenching as he turned away from the door as he stood alone. Before he could give it second thought he threw the rag in his hand down, arm sweeping over his workbench and sending every tool that sat on it to clatter to the ground in a heap of metallic clinks that echoed in the empty garage. He ran his hands through his hair and drug them down his face, exhaling a huff.

He had you. He had you and he blew it.

—

Series taglist: @myloversgone @colereads @stoneyggirl2 @samsgirl93 @poptart06294

General taglist: @flamencodiva @stixnstripesworld @elegantbutedgy @humanmistakes @agalliasi @campingmonkey @deandaydreaming @lanea-1 @akshi8278 @kidd3ath

[ponett]

sorry if this is an odd question, but i just played the slarpg demo and i was wondering, how did you pick last names for your characters? is there any sort of process or is it just whatever idea first feels right?

Here's a rundown of all the characters in the demo with last names and how they got them

Melody Amaranth: I literally just looked at the Wikipedia page for shades of pink and amaranth sounded nice

Allison Goleta: Allison is named for a random town in California! I learned this stupid trick from a blog post Tim Schafer made about his process for coming up with characters during the development of Broken Age. Lists of towns can sometimes give you good last names if you can't think of anything else. (Also, I've shared this before, but while we're talking names: Allison is named after the Jeff Rosenstock song "Hey Allison")

Claire Higsby: I stole her last name from a Mega Man Battle Network character

Jodie Caldwell: I honestly can't remember but this is a common last name so I don't think there's any special story behind it

Faith Vincent: ditto

Beverly Piggledy: I came up with the restaurant name "Higgledy Piggledy's" first and then later decided that Piggledy was her family name. Because she is a pig

The Leone family: Anthony came up with this one since they're his characters. All of the Leones have cat pun names (CATherine, BartholoMEW, Pepper is supposed to be like Pep-PURR)) and so he gave them a feline-sounding last name

Paula Cassidy: Paula is a special case because she was named via a poll on my Patreon. Paula was the winner and Cassidy was the runner up, so that became her full name. (I don't actually remember if her full name is stated in the demo)

And I think that's everyone with a last name in the demo

[1234-angelika]

Seven Months

an:Hey y'all! I'm really happy to be back on schedule and all caught up, for the most part anyways. This is the fourth installment of the Happily Ever After series for Spencer. As always, hope y'all enjoy!

words:1.1 k

warnings:none

summary:"The secret to a happy relationship is two happy people." -Naval Ravikant

masterpost|taglist|have an idea

The seven months with Spencer since your first date had been nothing short of amazing.

You spent as much time together as your schedules allowed for. It wasn’t only Spencer’s schedule that was restricting yours was too. With work and med school, plus making time to study, you were extremely busy. And with his schedule, he was constantly away for about a week at a time but, that just made you enjoy your time with him more. Off-handedly, you had brought up the subject of meeting families and his team, not putting too much thought into the conversation. Spence would tense instantly whenever the matter was brought up so, you left it alone. Making sure to reassure him that you were up to meeting them whenever Spencer felt ready.

It was a few weeks before he really warmed up to the idea, actually bringing up the idea over a light night phone call while he was away. He suggested that it was time that you met the team, and you couldn’t agree fast enough. You offered the café as more of a neutral place for the meeting. The two of you chatted and planned for Friday after the team returned from their case since they were scheduled to come back on Wednesday.

The sun peeked through the curtains you had forgotten to close the night before and woke you up. Rolling over, you shoved your face into a pillow and groaned. You climbed out of bed after a couple minutes of contemplating whether or not to cancel meeting the team, and your stomach was in knots. You got up and got ready for the day, skipping all food—your stomach too uneasy to actually keep anything down—and settled for a comforting cup of coffee. Then you headed out for class. You didn’t have work until the afternoon because you were in class the entire morning.

As you sat in the lecture hall, you knew how important the material was, but you were only taking in about half of it, even with the notes. Your mind was unable to focus on anything but the upcoming meeting at the café. When your last class of the morning let out, you were out of the building before anyone could stop you and hurrying toward the bus stop. Luckily, you managed to make the bus, and as soon as it left the station, you felt yourself begin to fall asleep. You dozed on and off for the entire ride, waking up just in time for your stop.

You greeted your co-workers who were behind the counter as you made your way to the back room. You took a couple minutes to change into your uniform and give yourself a pep-talk, hyping yourself up for your shift and your afternoon meeting. Then, you punched in for the day. Making your way out to the front, you relieved some of your co-workers and then got started. All you could think about, though, was how eager you were to meet them just a couple days ago, but now, it all seemed like the set-up of a bad dream.

Doing your best to keep busy, you hustled and bustled behind the counter, doing anything that would keep your hands and mind occupied. You even asked your co-worker to work on cash so you could play barista for the day. Another poor attempt to distract yourself from your nerves. A lot rested on the result of this meeting, and that was weighing heavily on your shoulders. His team was basically his family—he had told you this—and if they didn’t like you, you were sure the relationship wouldn’t last too much longer.

The bell above the door jingled, signalling that new customers had arrived. Looking up, you saw it was Spencer and a group of people; he gave you a sly smile and gently guided his team over to the couches. Once they were settled, he walked over to the counter where you were standing with a smile. Of course, he smiled back, and that action in itself offered you a tremendous amount of comfort. And then he began rattling off the drink orders. You punched them into the register with ease before telling Spencer the total. He paid in full, leaving behind a generous tip in the jar.

You whirled around behind the counter, expertly making the drinks. One by one, you placed them on the counter. Spencer made a few trips back and forth to bring the drinks to his colleagues, and you watched as Spencer sat down and the group immediately launched into conversation. When the team had been at the café for an hour, you offered free refills and replaced the empty cups with new, full ones for those who wanted them. As you left the drinks on the table, you heard a question that was directed at Spencer.

“So, when is this girl going to get here? I thought you said she’d be here by five.”

Hurriedly, so you wouldn’t be caught eavesdropping, you made your way back to the counter. Your booked shift didn’t end for another half an hour, and since your other co-worker had already left, you couldn’t clock out early. Just a few minutes before the half-hour mark, your co-worker Jodi came up behind you to relieve you of your work. You were hasty in clocking out before changing back into your other clothes and gathering your belongings. Then you walked over to Spencer and his team. When he noticed you, he stood up to greet you with a hug before bringing you back to the group.

“Hey Spence, who’s this?” A blonde woman asked, staring at you curiously.

“Everyone, this is Y/N, my girlfriend.” Spencer said, standing beside you with a smile. It was silent for a couple seconds, and then one of his teammates broke it.

“Boy genius! How did you land a smoke show like this one?!” The man asked incredulously, but you could hear the pride in his voice.

“Y/N meet Derek,” Spencer said, conducting the introduction.

“Well Derek,” you began, “he caught my eye but, he was actually the one to make the first move. He used his charms and as they say, the rest is history.”

Spencer introduced you to the rest of his colleagues, none of them having quite an animated reaction as Derek to the news. However, once the introductions were over, you didn’t know why you were nervous in the first place. His team was amiable and welcomed you with broad smiles and open arms. They made you feel like you were a part of their family like you had known them forever.

taglist: @multixfandomwriter @myescapefromthislife @sparklykeylime @gspenc

[altagraye]

The ties that bind series part 1

Deanxreader

Part 1: Anger management

!!!!!T.W.: dean being a hurt asshole to jack, age gap, worried dean, language.

Dean:

I went to sleep thinking this was the first time in a long time that I was thinking there'd be no hope for Y/N. She's been 'asleep' for 1 year 7 months and 6 days. Damn right I've been counting.

I got pissed at Sammy for letting Jack see his 'sister'. Jack asked me if he could help, bring the dead girl back to life. She's not dead. She's asleep. She has to come back. She has to come back to us. I'm so sick of losing people I love and care about. And with Cas. I can't even tell Y/N about it. I just sit in her room and hold her hand.

I've been practically begging to have her back. I miss how I have to get her things from high places. Like cereal boxes and coffee mugs, because she's pretty much a munchkin around us. All 5 feet of her though, is like a firecracker. She missed her 22nd and 23rd birthday. I got her a cake and I ate some of it for her, blew out the candles, wished for her to come back. Drank some Hennesy for her, got snockered. Even though she's gentle and uses her heart, there's a hunter's fire in those bones. She's an awesome hunter with a heart of gold and an even better friend. There's some part of me that if I met her earlier in life, then she'd be the perfect girl for me. I have a blast hunting with her now, if I'd met her when I was her age, I'd be a smitten kitten. Wishful thinking I guess. I'm terrified of Jack, to be very honest.

There's no telling what he's capable of. And the cherry on top of his bowl of ice cream is that he's half horns and pitchforks?! Sam insists on teaching him better, that evil is taught. I'm not so sure with this. Today Y/N's conditon was getting to me. We didn't have a case yet so it was just Sam, me, and 'Damien 2.0' around the bunker. I stared up from my laptop at Y/N's usual seat next to Sam. I could imagine her sitting there, laughing at a corny joke I'd tell her. Maybe helping with a case, leaning over with her nose in Sam's screen, examining an article with him. The little stuff that's what I miss most. Her smile, I can hardly think of that, 'cus that hurts too much. Jack came back from the back of the library with a stack full of books. Sam told him to read every dusty, dog-eared, boring text in this place at least once.

Jack set the books down with a thud, in her spot. I gave him a look of death. His face innocent and ignorant. Sam returned a knowing smirk. He didn't like how I've been treating Jack, but I can't help it. As far as I'm concerned, everything has gone to Hell in a handbasket, and someone had to be the punching bag.

"Not that seat. Take the one next to it." I told him forcefully, biting back wanting to break out into a bellowing yell. He looked at me confused. Oh this is going to be a difficult day.

"Why? There's nothing wrong with this chair." He asked innocently. That was my final straw for the day.

"Because I said so! It's her chair, get off it. When I tell you to do something, you do it!!" I let the chains unfurl a little bit, just enough to let my anger out. Jack didn't reply, he couldn't look at me really. He took his books and slid them across the wooden table to the next space and sat down.

"Dean?!" Sam interjected, here comes the 'treat him gentle' schpeel. I didn't know what pissed me off more, Jack's idiocy, or my brother's complete ignorance to the situation. He knows what Y/N's condition did to me. Just as he was about to give me the speech of the century my phone rang, the caller ID read Jody. Yes! Saved by the bell, and a possible case. I answered it, Sammy tilted his head noticing he missed his chance to talk to me about Jack and my behavior. I put it on speaker phone so that Sam could hear too.

"Hey, what's up Jody? You're all ears. How're the girls?" I greeted her with some half-fabricated pep in my voice. I has been a while since we've heard from her. Usually if she called us, the case was especially difficult. She didn't like taking help from anyone if she could handle it herself.

"Dean! Uh, the girls are fine. Listen, we've got a Jane Doe at Sioux Falls General this morning. She matches your bolo. She has snake tattoos on her arms right? And umm torches on her wrists right? H/C hair, 100 pounds soaking wet? Does that sound like her?" I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Yeah, that has to be Y/N. But how is that even possible? She's been asleep in her room for more than a year. I visit her at least three times a day. I rose from my chair, my heart racing and thumping against my chest. Please be her. The wooden legs of my chair scraped against the floor with a cringing sound.

"Jody? Are you one-hundred percent sure? If this is some joke it is not funny. I'm going to her room now." My breath started to hitch. Sam noticed my urgency and followed, Jack on his tail. I reached her door and opened it. There was no one in the bed.

"Holy shit. She's not here. But how?! Fuck it, it doesn't matter how. But why is she in the hospital? Jody? Is she alright?!" My mind was racing. Sam and Jack got closer to me, listening in to Jody, the phone still on speaker mode.

"That's why I called. Dean, Sam. She was attacked." Jody's voice cracked at the word attacked.

[templedragon]

Doctor Who: Revolution of the Daleks

Summary: Too much mansplaining

Review: Chibnall supposedly has a plan, and given there were numerous references to episodes within his tenure and before it, he's demonstrating that he has the ability to write consistent development. But this highlights what he cares about, and what he doesn't. He doesn't care about women, as the Doctor and Yaz are spoken to a lot in this feature length episode by men (mansplaining). We're back to the complaint that just having the titular character as female doesn't mean it's good representation. Having the first Asian character in the TARDIS in itself isn't good representation. And apparently, Chibnall can't imagine the TARDIS without a white cis man in it, with the introduction of John Bishop as a companion. I had been looking forward to an all female Who Crew. Alas.

Racism is alive. The deaths of the two black characters are prolonged torture porn. The white woman is killed quickly. The tea lady survives despite being a murderer. The returning white male villain got a lot of dialogue and screentime, and on the back of Wonder Woman 1984 writers automatically default to writing about white men. I can't help worrying that the long term plan of Chibnall is this white American squaring off with John Bishop, the white Scouse. The immortal white Captain Jack Harkness doesn't die from having a Dalek face hugger, so I wonder why he was given the dialogue mentioning it if it wasn't being utilised. Are Daleks high stakes if no good guys die?

The return of Captain Jack brings nostalgia from the RTD era, and the inevitable comparison of show runners. Most of the audience found Doctor Who with RTD, who had companions' hearts at the centre of his stories. RTD had fantastical settings for us to reflect on current issues. RTD had the companions use their abilities (often compassion) to save the day. Contrast this to the current Who crew. What did Yaz, Ryan, of Graham do to save the Doctor, or the day? Yaz had ten months to figure out the TARDIS, when previous companions ripped it apart to with upon its heart. It was all Captain Jack, with his technology, pep talks and team leadership. Jack saved the Doctor from prison, Jack had the vortex manipulator and squareness gun to get to and into places. Jack had the explosives to take out a Dalek ship. Jack had the advice of loving the Doctor being worth the pain of living without her.

Ableism is also alive. Ryan has dyspraxia, but it's only ever stopped him from riding a bike or shooting a basketball hoop outside of adventures with the Doctor. Everything else he's been able to do when necessary without ill effect. This discrimination is minimisation. Ryan becomes the third black companion to willingly walk away from the Doctor (Mickey Smith and Martha Jones before him), with Graham the first white person to follow him. Ryan accepting Graham as his granddad was nice character development in their first season, but nothing new happened between them in the second. It's more development than Yaz has had. What have her family thought about her disappearing for nights in a detached suburban home? Her role is to thirst after the Doctor, and hopefully Thasmin will be canon as I'm not going to watch another woman of colour have unrequited romantic feelings for the Doctor. If you're homophobic and think I'm imagining it, check out John Barrowman liking tweets about Yaz and Jack bonding over loving the Doctor.

Jodie Whittaker continues to give stellar performances with poor material. On the back of the series' finale, she is having a huge identity crisis. As the prison was irrelevant for decades, she's still stuck emotionally where we left her. Cue Ryan mansplaining feelings. Later, she declares she's the Doctor but with no compassion in her eyes - she's defining herself as a killer of Daleks. In one moment, she laments that Gallifrey is gone, and in the next she's killing a TARDIS - a TARDIS that had other people on it but Chibnall has already forgotten. Killing fascists and having innocents as collatoral is bad messaging. Usually when the Doctor goes off the deep end, the companions reign them in with compassion. But where was the human voice?

[jodaaariel]

and you know what???? ive had enough of that talk from you, announcer!!! ill tear your system and it's unmoving cycle to shreds!!!!!