#i have chicken marinating for tomorrow

[smallvillecrows]

when I'm home alone I cook and then not eat anything I've cooked

[hauntingblue]

FRUIT LORE! FRUIT LORE! FRUIT LORE! FRUIT LORE! FRUIT LORE! FRUIT LORE! FRUIT LORE!

[summer-fire]

I fucking love cooking. I’m so excited to cook again tomorrow.

[joemothersfavoritechild]

“across the street” pt. 2

-3k-ish words

-mike schmidt x fem!reader

-no trauma au

an: thanks for all the love on my last post!! i took some inspiration from a few joel miller fics for this one. also, referring to the ending, gotta let it marinate or sum. and if you get the orange reference, marry me.

summary: you have a late night phone call with yk who, and build furniture in the morning.

part one is here!

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You plopped down in your chair, sighing while rubbing hand sanitizer over your hands. Your shift had been busy as hell, this being the first break you had all day, and it was only halfway over. You wiped your now clean hands over your eyes, trying to rub the tired soreness out of them. At least the pay is good, you thought.

Your coworker calling your name pulled you away from your thoughts.

“25 wants you again.” They said.

“Why me?” You whined.

“I don’t know, I think she prefers women.” They answered your rhetorical, giving you a sympathetic smile.

“Fuck me, I’m going to have to take my lunch after this. I’m never working another Sunday.” You said, standing up on your practically creaking legs.

This was how the rest of your afternoon went, running in all directions like a chicken with its head cut off. “23 wants an ice cream,” “25 pulled out her IV again,” “Call security on 26, he’s trying to leave.” It was an absolute shit show, you hardly had a chance to see the time on your phone, let alone check for a text that you were desperate to receive.

Your drive home was quiet, soft music playing to hopefully decompress you. It always seemed to help. You pulled into your driveway, noticing the lights on at a certain someone’s house across the street, his old Accord telling you that he was home. You turned your car off, trying to stop looking at it from your rearview.

Walking into your house wasn’t as satisfying as you’d hoped, boxes still covering the floor. You took your shoes off as you set your work bag on the ground. You looked at your bed frame again in the dark, not bothering to turn a light on. Was a day too early to expect a message? Was that considered desperate? Probably, you thought. But fuck, you were so desperate. He checked all the boxes,

cute? : check

siblings? : check

caring? : check

a little mean? : check

dorky as hell? : check

abandonment issues? : probably check!

You forced yourself to pull your eyes off the box. As the saying goes, a watched fish doesn’t get caught.

That’s not right, you think. Your tired brain can’t decipher what you were trying to go for, but you knew it would’ve worked.

Anyways, constantly thinking about someone texting you doesn’t help anything. You plugged your phone into the charger near the couch, purposefully ignoring staring at it for too long.

Your eyes fell back to the boxes surrounding you. You passed them all, going straight to your bathroom to shower.

The shower was the right call, you decided. Scorching water loosened your muscles and kept your mind in the present. Washing the outside world off your skin was the highlight of your day.

You got out of the shower, eventually. The warm water didn’t last as long as you had hoped, though it did try. Your nearly hour-long shower would overwhelm any water heater on the market. You quickly dried yourself off, taking the time to brush your teeth and apply your skincare before wrapping your towel around yourself and stepping into your bedroom. You threw on some pajamas from your suitcase that moved with you; pajama pants and an old shirt.

You balled up your work clothes into your towel and put them all in the laundry basket in the corner of your room, already beginning to overflow. You reminded yourself to start the laundry sometime tomorrow as you walked back to your temporary bed, the large green couch in your living room.

You pulled back the covers on the couch, piling into it. You had completely decked it out; two blankets, a comforter, two pillows (one for your head, one for between your legs), and the fan dialed up. You closed your eyes, listening to the white noise of the fan above you.

You were interrupted by the shrill noise of your phone ringing behind you. You groaned, folding your blankets over so you could get off the couch and walk to the charger. You ripped your phone off the charger, taking it with you as you laid back into your bed. You re-adjusted your blankets before pulling the phone under your ear and swiping to accept the call.

“Hello?” You said groggily.

“Hey.” A voice responded. It took you a moment, but eventually, you recognized it. You were suddenly awake with nervousness.

“Hey, Mike.”

“Hi. Um, I texted you,” He said, sounding more like a question than a comment. “A few times, not a big deal. I just wanted to make sure you were alive.” He joked.

You paused, trying to quickly check your messages.

“You there?” He asked.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m here. Sorry, I’ve been working all day. It was super busy, so I didn’t have time to check my phone, and when I got home all I was thinking about was sleep.” You described.

“No need to be sorry, I just wanted to make sure you were okay. You’re okay?”

“I’m okay.” You responded.

“Good, good,” He pauses. “So, um, how was your day?”

“Pretty shitty.” You summarize, hearing him laugh in the background.

“Tell me about it.”

So, you did. You proceeded to tell him all the gritty details about your job. What your coworkers are like, the patients that you had to deal with, the frequent fliers, all of it. He asked a lot of questions, making you feel more comfortable rambling on to him.

“What’d you have for lunch?” He asked.

“I had leftover wingstop, I barely have any food at the house.”

“What’s your order?”

“Eight-piece boneless, classic hot. With fries, ranch, and a huge coke. It was amazing,” You said, practically salivating remembering it. “What about you and Abs?” You asked.

“It was very fancy, I don’t know if you’re prepared to hear me talk about it, you might be jealous,” He said sarcastically. “I made cheese quesadillas.”

You laughed a little too long at that, surprised. He was funny, another check.

You talked on the phone for a while, so long that you were talking about the most boring stuff. Like how Abby was a picky eater, and it annoyed Mike because all he wanted to do was eat a good burger now and again. It was sickly sweet and felt like being a teenager again. Whispering as to not wake your parents up, hoping that they wouldn’t catch you up past your bedtime.

You’re not sure when it happened, but you fell asleep on the phone. Mike was talking about something, maybe about the tv show he had been watching. You’re not exactly positive, but you know that you passed out cold.

Your eyes fluttered open, the phone still pressed up against your cheek, warm from the contact. You blinked rapidly, trying to keep your dream in your mind. You had to think hard, as it was delicate. If you let it go, you’d never remember what it was.

It was a good dream, as most of yours tended to be. You didn’t remember a lot, only pieces of it. But you knew Mike was there. You knew that he had led you to your bed, pulling you under the covers with him. You talked, cuddling close to him. God, it had felt so real. You could practically see the lines under his eyes and the pores on his nose. You smiled, but this felt a little creepy at this point. Borderline delusional, your mind added. You barely knew him and you were already dreaming about him.

You grabbed the phone from under your face, groaning as it got unstuck from your skin. Thankfully, it wasn’t dead. You unlocked it, taking the opportunity to look at the texts that you had gotten the night before.

Yesterday, 12:36 pm: hey, this is mike. i’ll need you on the weekends from 8 am-4 pm. and idc that you said not to pay you, i’m building your bed too.

Yesterday, 2:49 pm: you okay?

Yesterday, 5:03 pm: not to be creepy, but i think i’m going to call you. you’re worrying me a little lol

Today, 1:45 am: i think you fell asleep, i’ll talk to you in the morning :)

You smiled, making a contact for him. “mike <3” was now typing. Three little dots popped up on your screen and you quickly swiped out in nervousness. You opened it again when you got a notification.

Today, 10:23 am: i dropped abby off for school and slept in a little, is it okay if i come over to build that bed frame for you?

You smiled again, quickly replying to make up for last night.

Today, 10:24 am: yeah, ofc. give me a few minutes to wake up lol, i need to brush my teeth and clean up for a second.

He replied immediately.

Today, 10:24 am: lmk when you’re ready

You willed yourself to stop smiling, god it had been too long. You hardly knew how to act with a potential date.

“Oh, god.” You muttered to yourself, realizing you had to talk to him. Why did you have to talk to a man to get a boyfriend? Why couldn’t it just happen telepathically?

You sighed, rolling off the couch. You plugged your phone back into the charger, making your way to the bathroom. You completed your morning routine and ran to your bedroom to pick something out to wear for the day. You decided to go for casual, grey sweatpants and a green hoodie. Didn’t want to seem too desperate. You pulled your socks up your feet, laughing at yourself.

You grabbed a quick breakfast from your kitchen, consisting of leftover cookies and a slice of cold pizza. You tried your best to tidy your place up, moving boxes to the corner of the living room. Running down the hallway to your bedroom with your boxed bed frame in hand, you placed it on the floor, taking the other boxes and moving them to the hallway. You scrubbed your toilet and sink, turning on the air fresheners you had placed around the house.

You washed your hands, drying them before returning to the living room. You texted Mike, letting him know that you were ready. He liked the text message, and in less than two minutes he was knocking on your door.

You eyed the door at the noise. Jesus, he was not playing around. You took another deep breath, opening the door to see him standing there with a small smile. He went for casual too, you noted. He wore a black t-shirt and a pair of grey sweats. He held a bag, which you assumed was full of tools.

You smiled at him as a greeting and opened the door wider to allow him to walk into your house.

“Hey.” He said as you walked past you.

“Hi, thanks for coming so quickly.” You responded. “You didn’t have to, the payment feels premature.” You joked, shutting the front door. He looked a you for a second while taking his shoes off at the entryway.

“Shut up, you can’t sleep on the couch for a week”

“I totally can.” You bite back.

“You won’t, where’s your bedroom?” He finished, looking at you again.

You were shocked into silence, feeling your cheeks warm up. The comment made your head spin. Fuck, could he tell that you liked that?

You said nothing, ignoring his little smirk as you walked him to your bedroom. He followed behind you, dropping the bag on the floor with a small thump.

“Do you need any help or something?” You asked finally, breaking the tense silence.

“No, I’m good. I’ve done a lot of stuff like this,” He answered, shrugging. “You could put on some background music?” He suggested.

“That, I can do.”

You nodded, pulling your phone out of your pocket. You hesitated, before choosing a slower playlist of yours. Something calm, that you didn’t have to focus on. He nodded in enjoyment, then began to open the box that held your bed frame. He spilled the contents onto the floor, then kneeled on the ground. He started pulling stuff out of his bag. You guessed correctly, it was full of tools.

You just watched, sitting down against the wall of your room. It was attractive, him expertly putting your bed frame together. He was good with his hands, you wondered what else he was good at. He looked at you after a moment.

“You just gonna watch?”

“If that’s okay.” You shrugged, he nodded at your sort of question. He tried to hide his smile.

He was going to town, drilling, piecing parts together, all while completely ignoring the instructions. He didn’t need them.

After a while, you could tell he was getting hot. His black shirt was sticking to his skin. You hated to admit that it did something to you. You felt a warmth settle in your stomach and tried your best to will it away. Your eyes settled on his back, looking up to his neck when he turned towards you.

“Why’re looking at me like that?” He asked, eyes narrowed out of curiosity.

You made eye contact with him like a deer in headlights. Smiling at you, he laughed a little. Your words were stuck in your throat, embarrassed about being caught.

“Um, do you want some water?” You settled on.

“Sure.” He answered, chuckling at your suddenly shy demeanor.

You stood up off the floor and walked out of your room, closing the door behind you. What the fuck was that? You scolded yourself, internally. Now he was going to think that you were a horny weirdo. I mean, you were, but he didn’t need to know that yet.

You shook your head at yourself as you poured him a glass. This was ridiculous, you needed to chill out.

You came back into the bedroom and handed him the glass. He took it from you gratefully, fingers brushing over yours as he grabbed it. Telling you a small “thank you,” he brought the glass to his lips and began to drink greedily. You watched him as he downed the glass, some dripping down his chin.

When he was finished, he wiped a hand over his stubble. He looked over to you, a smile pulling at the corners of his lips. He held the glass out to you and you took it, quickly walking out of the room.

You placed the glass in the sink, blinking to try and bring yourself back to life. How did someone make drinking water look so good? How was that even possible? And god, the look he gave you.

You needed to get it together before you blew it. Talk to him, say something, anything other than just fucking staring at him.

You walked back into the room with a mission, you were going to talk to him. Taking your spot on the floor, you cleared your throat.

“So, what’s your favorite food?” You decided on.

He barely paused before answering, “Definitely pasta, like a good chicken alfredo.”

“Shit, that’s a good answer. I’m really into sushi right now. Can’t afford it, but into it.” You said, smiling at his willingness to answer.

The stupid questions continued for a few minutes. The two of you got to know the smallest details of your likes and dislikes. Turns out, Mike can’t stand the color yellow but loves orange. He’s not much of a drinker, mainly because he can’t afford it, but he does occasionally smoke weed. He’s a cat person but would get a dog if Abby asked for one. It killed you when he talked about his sister because it was so obvious how much he loved her.

Eventually, he finished your bed frame. The gentleman that he is forced him to carry your mattress in from the laundry room, helping you set that up too. Mike may have been on the shorter side, but he was strong as hell. The two of you put on your sheets, blankets, pillows, and finally your comforter. It was almost too domestic, too real.

When you were finished, you didn’t want him to leave. You think he felt the same. This was confirmed when he saw the tv sitting in your closet.

“Do you want me to mount that for you?” He asked.

I want you to mount me, you fought against saying.

“That would be great.” You agreed.

Mike probably spent three hours helping you put your bedroom together, setting up shelves, arranging your cabinets, and helping you put your pictures and posters up while you talked his ear off.

Even though you told him a million times that he didn’t need to, he hung your clothes up in your closet while you folded the rest to go in your new dresser. Finally, your room was fully decorated and unpacked.

He rubbed his hands together, settling on the end of your bed. You sat next to him.

“Thank you, seriously. I was dreading doing all of that by myself.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He said.

You both looked at each other for a second too long, the tension between the two of you becoming thick. You took breaks from looking at his eyes by moving down to his lips. You took a deep breath, noticing him moving closer to you.

He hesitated, pushing a stray hair behind your ear instead. His hand lingered on your face, eventually moving down your arm to put your hand in his. He interlocked your fingers together, pulling it close to him and pressing a soft kiss on your knuckles. He held you there, hand resting on his chin. This was almost more intimate than a kiss, you thought.

“Do you not-” You started, getting interrupted.

“I want to, believe me.”

You looked at him, willing him to continue.

“I don’t want you to think that’s all this is.” He explained, you nodded. You know that this was him being respectful, but it made you want to tear his clothes off even more. Forbidden fruit, if you will.

“Let me take you on a date, tomorrow on my lunch break. I know a place you’d like.” He continued.

“Okay.” You said, smiling.

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**i do not give anyone permission to use my work as your own, respectfully

this belongs to @joemothersfavoritechild **

[winchesterwild78]

The Hunter pt 4

Master List

Characters: Dean Winchester x Reader (together), Sam Winchester, Jody Mills, Bobby Singer x Reader (Uncle/Niece)

Warnings: Mention of Death, Angst, Cheating, death

A/N: I’ve been working on getting some stories out and it’s driving me crazy. I’m turning this one into a series, probably short(ish), not 100% yet. This story came to me after starting Supernatural again. We all know how Dean feels about relationships, but let’s just pretend he finally gave in. 😀 

*time jumps in this chapter, this story is coming to an end soon.*

This is my own work, please do not take it or copy it without my permission. It’s based on characters from Supernatural, but doesn’t follow the timeline completely. I wrote it fast and edited it fast. Please overlook any errors. 

Minors DNI 18+

*Time Jump 1 year*

Dean had been promoted to assistant manager of the garage, and you were almost finished with your degree. You loved working with kids, so you were getting your teaching degree. Dean has been so supportive and helped you study. You were stressed, working full time, trying to be a good girlfriend, and taking night classes. 

You were sitting at the kitchen table studying late one afternoon. Having planned a dinner to celebrate you passing a test, you went to the grocery store, and planned to have it ready for Dean when he came home. While the chicken was marinating, you pulled out your homework and started working. 

At some point you had fallen asleep, completely exhausted from the long hours you’d been putting in with work and you going to school. You were sleeping so deeply you didn’t hear the door when Dean came home. “I’m home, sweetheart.” When he didn’t hear you answer he went looking for you and found you asleep on your pile of work, drooling. 

It was the cutest thing he’d seen in a while. He took out his phone and snapped a picture. Dean walked over to you and softly shook you away, “Baby, I’m home. Wake up.” You sat up, wiping the drool from your face. Dean smiled, “rough day?” You stretched and yawned, “No, just busy. I’m so sorry Dean, I had dinner marinating and I must have fallen asleep.” 

Dean pulled you into his arms, “It’s okay sweetheart, just cover it and let’s go out to dinner, or I’ll order something and go get it.” You started to cry, overcome with emotions and exhaustion, “Dean I had planned an amazing dinner to celebrate me passing that test we studied for.” Dean kissed your lips and wiped away your tears, “Hey, come on. Let’s go out and celebrate. If you want, you can cook it tomorrow night.” 

You agreed and grabbed your coat. Dean drove the two of you to your favorite diner. You both ordered a cheeseburger, french fries, and chocolate pie for dessert. Over dinner the two of you talked about work, life, and your future. A woman walked in the restaurant pushing a stroller, and holding the hand of her toddler. She looked overwhelmed and exhausted, trying to keep the baby from crying and the toddler from running away. She sat down in the booth behind you and Dean. 

She placed the toddler in the booth first, and grabbed the crying baby out of the stroller. Your back was to her and Dean was looking behind you chuckling and making faces. You turned and saw the toddler popping their head over the booth and making faces at Dean. Before the mother could stop him, he crawled under the table and came over to you. Climbing in the booth with you he hung on you. The mother was out of the booth apologizing, but you and Dean told her it was okay. 

She ordered food for her and the toddler, while she fed the baby. Her son, who you learned was named Matthew, took a liking to you and Dean. “Looks like you’ve got some competition, Dean.” You laughed playfully. “Looks like it, hey Matthew, that’s my girl.” Matthew looked at Dean and shook his head “no”. When their food arrived, you helped him back over to the booth. You sat with the mom and learned her husband had just died unexpectedly, and she was so overwhelmed with taking care of the children alone. 

Your heart ached for her. When you asked her how her husband died, you weren’t prepared for what she told you. “The police say it was an animal attack, but I don’t think it was. He was acting strange the night he died. He was in his study working, then all of a sudden he said he had to leave to find “her”. I have no idea who he was talking about. The autopsy revealed he had a high level of oxytocin in his system. They never could explain that. When I got his clothes back, there was lipstick on them.”

You took her hand and offered her an apologetic smile. “I’m so sorry that happened to you. Do you know who the lipstick belonged to?” “No, Eric was loyal and we were so in love. The police think he was having an affair, but I know Eric, that wasn’t him at all.” 

You helped her feed Matthew so she could eat too. You gave her your number and told her if she ever needed a break or help to give you a call. She thanked you and once she finished eating she took over with Matthew.

You returned to Dean who was smiling at you. “What? What’s so funny?” “Nothing, I just love watching you take care of people. You’re amazing, you know that.” You grabbed his hand, “Thank you, so are you. I think we have a hunting problem, though.” Dean’s eyes went wide, “What makes you say that sweetheart?”

“Well Amber’s husband died unexpectedly recently. The police think it was an animal attack, but she isn’t convinced.” You continued telling Dean what Amber told you, “Dean, I think we are dealing with a Siren.” “Really? I guess that would explain the odd behavior and the high level of oxytocin.”

“Should we call Bobby or Jody in on this?” You asked, looking at Dean. “Not yet, let’s do some research first.” You shook your head in agreement. The two of you talked more about the potential case and finished eating. As Amber left, she stopped by your table and thanked you again for your help. You nodded and looked down at her sleeping baby and smiled. She was so beautiful and peaceful looking. Dean noticed how you looked at the baby. 

He knew you wanted children, and to get married. He just wasn’t sure if it’s what he wanted yet. Dean loved you and would do anything for you.You noticed he was staring so you offered him a soft smile. “Penny for your thoughts, Mr. Winchester?” 

“Nothing, just thinking about our future and if it includes children.” His words cut you, “If” you asked. “Yeah, I love being with you, but I see how much of a struggle it was for Amber to juggle Matthew and the baby. I just don’t know if we could do that.” “She’s alone, Dean. We would have each other. We could do it together.” 

Dean shrugged, “Yeah, I guess. I mean it’s something we can talk about later.” You nodded, but your heart dropped. The future you envisioned with Dean included you two being married, working at your jobs you loved, and at least 2 kids. Now it would seem he didn’t want the same thing.

The drive home was quiet. You stared out the window replaying Dean’s words over and over again. Dean knew something was wrong, but was afraid to ask what was wrong. He figured it was about children, but he didn’t want to argue. 

When you two got home you walked to your bedroom, grabbed your pajamas and headed for the shower. You locked the bathroom door. You’ve never done that, but you needed space. You needed to think. Dean heard the shower and smirked, walking to the door he called, “You need any..” His words cut off when he tried to open the door and it was locked. 

He heard you inside crying softly. “Sweetheart, please let me in. We can talk this over.” He knocked on the door. “Dean, please just go. I need to think.” You called from the shower, stifling sobs. He knocked again trying to get you to open the door. “Dean, I said go away!” 

Dean let out a frustrated sigh and grabbed his jacket and keys, he slammed the door and left. You heard the door and collapsed to the bathtub floor, sobbing. You loved Dean, but you knew you wanted children. You wanted his children, but now you don’t think that’s possible. So you have a choice to make, stay with the man you love, and not have children, or leave and have children with someone else eventually.

Dean got in the car and drove to a local bar. Since the two of you had been together he hadn’t stepped foot in a bar unless you were with him. Tonight, however, he was alone. When he walked into the smoky bar he looked around. He spotted couples, and single people throughout the bar. Dean made his way to the bar and took a seat. 

He ordered a whiskey and was slowly sipping it. Dean pulled out his phone and saw your picture and sighed. He was about to send you a text, when he heard a voice beside him. “Hello there, handsome. How are you tonight?” Dean turned his head and came face to face with a gorgeous blonde. She had a killer smile, a big chest, that she was showing off, and the perfect body. “I’m doing better now.” Dean smiled at her. She touched his arm and leaned closer to him.

“So what are you looking for tonight?” “I don’t know, what did you have in mind?” Dean asked. 

His mind was racing, why was he going after this woman? She leaned in and kissed him. Dean kissed her back, deeply. She could taste the whiskey on his breath, and he could taste her mixed drink. 

“Let’s go some place where we can be alone,” she whispered in his ear. Dean threw money on the bar to take care of his tab and took her hand. Their hands were all over each other and their lips were too. He leaned her against the car and started kissing down her neck and running his hands up her shirt. 

Dean felt more alive than he had in months. He wanted more from her, and she wanted more from him. They got in the car and he started to drive towards the house.

It was a quarter past 2 in the morning when you finally started to fall asleep. You knew Dean must have gone out drinking, so you closed and locked the bedroom door. You were hurt and pissed he would leave for hours. You know you told him to leave, but you didn’t think he would have been gone for so long. By the time you went to bed you had a headache from the crying, and your heart was broken. You made Dean leave, and he did. You thought he would have fought harder for you, for your relationship, but he just left. 

Not long after you started to drift off to sleep you heard Dean come back home. He didn’t try to open the bedroom door. Instead you heard him going into the guestroom and then closed the door. You rolled over, determined to get some sleep, when you heard giggling. 

You sat up, listening again, because you thought you were mistaken. You heard the giggle and Dean laugh. Tears pricked your eyes and your heart broke. Dean brought home a girl from the bar. How could he?! You grabbed your robe and walked toward the guest room. You opened the door and the sight before you broke you. Dean was almost naked, kissing this beautiful, thin woman who was very much naked. “Dean!” Dean didn’t answer you or stop kissing her. 

She looked over her shoulder at you and smirked. “Dean! What the fuck are you doing?!” He still didn’t answer you, it was like he was under a spell. Then it hit you, Amber’s husband. You looked over at the mirror attached to the dresser and saw the Siren. You grabbed the bat you kept by the door and hit her in the head, knocking her off Dean. 

He stood up and tried to defend her from you. You hit her again. Dean grabbed the bat from you and pushed you into the wall. He lifted the bat above you, the Siren standing near him and urging him to kill you. “Kill her baby, kill her for me. She’s trying to take me away from you.” Dean swung the bat and almost hit you, but you ducked in time. “Dean, stop, please. It’s me, Y/N. Please, baby, stop!” You begged Dean as he lunged at you. 

You ran into the living room and grabbed the bronze dagger Bobby had given you. When Dean lunged at you again, you sliced at him, coating the dagger in his blood. The Siren was right beside Dean, urging him to kill you. You lunged at her with the dagger, piercing her flesh. She screamed in pain and dropped to the ground, dead. 

You collapsed crying and begging Dean to snap out of it. Once she took her last breath, Dean came out of her spell. He looked at her and looked at you. He walked over to you and as he grabbed you, you yelped and pulled away. 

“Shh, Y/N, it’s me. What happened?” You looked at Dean and saw his green eyes full of love and confusion. You knew he was back. You fell into his arms and sobbed. After you calmed down, you told him what happened and. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m so sorry. This is all my fault. I was careless and I shouldn’t have left.” 

You helped patch him up and the two of you burned the siren’s body. When it was time to finally go to sleep, you crawled back into your bed. Waiting for Dean to come, but he never did. Walking into the living room, you found Dean stretched out on the couch. “Dean, are you coming to bed?” You asked softly. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea, sweetheart.” Dean said, looking down. “Oh, okay, yeah I understand. Um, good night, Dean. I love you.” “Good night sweetheart, we will talk tomorrow.” You stood beside the couch for a minute, waiting for him to say “I love you”, but he didn’t. Your heart sank.

You slowly walked back to the bedroom, crawled in the bed and cried into your pillow. Dean heard you crying and wanted to comfort you, but he couldn’t forgive himself for hitting you, or putting your life in danger. He loved you and if he was being honest, he wanted to have children with you. After tonight, he didn’t think that was possible. You could have been killed because of his stupid actions. He refused to risk your life, or the lives of his children. 

He laid on the couch and listened to you cry for hours. His heart broke with every tear that fell and every muffled sob he heard. The urge to go to you and wrap you in his arms grew. He pushed himself off the couch, and made his way to the bedroom. He wasn’t sure if you would let him in, but the ache in his chest, the need to comfort you was too strong. 

Dean saw you laying on the bed, your back to the door and curled in a ball. His heart broke all over again and a tear slipped out. He crawled in the bed and laid behind you. Without warning you turned and buried your face in his chest. Dean wrapped his arms around you and held you tight.

He placed a soft kiss on the top of your head and felt you relax in his arms. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I love you so much and I do want to have children with you. I’m just scared.” You lifted your head and looked at him. Your face was tear stained, your eyes red and puffy from crying. Dean still thought you looked so beautiful. “I’m scared too, Dean. I don’t know how to be a wife or a mother, but I know we will figure it out together. I’m scared of dying early and leaving you and our children. Isn’t that what life is about though, being scared to do things, but finding the courage to do it anyway?”

“You’re right sweetheart. I just don’t want to screw up being a husband or father. You and our future children deserve so much more than that.” You looked at Dean, cupped his face, “Dean Winchester, you are one of the kindest, loving, protective men I know. You are going to be an amazing husband and even better father. Look at Sammy. You raised him and he turned out great. You don’t know how to fail. Sure you might mess up, you’re human, but I know you and I know you will do whatever you can to make it right. I love you and I want to marry you and have your children. I trust you with my life, and I would trust you with our children.”

Dean took a shaking breath and he leaned in, placing a soft kiss on your lips, “I love you so much. I would love nothing more than to marry you and have children with you. I know I said earlier I wasn’t sure if I wanted children, but I do. I see a future with you and our children. Living this apple pie life, and occasionally hunting. Our children will live a normal life, Y/N.”

The two of you talked and made a promise to always talk things out, no matter how long it took. You promised not to shut him out, and he promised not to leave and head to the bar. After a few hours of talking, the two of you drifted off to sleep in each other’s arms. 

*Time Jump 6 months* 

You were standing in front of the full length mirror in your bedroom looking at the outfit you’d picked out for work. Nothing you put on seemed to fit right and you were already nervous. You had finished your degree and were starting at a new job, teaching 1st grade. 

Dean walked in your shared bedroom and wrapped his arms around you. He saw how nervous you were, “You look beautiful, sweetheart.” He kissed your cheek. You leaned into his embrace, “Thank you baby. I don’t feel beautiful.” 

Dean spun you around and pulled you to him, “Y/N, you are the most beautiful woman in the world. You’re going to be amazing with those kids, and you’re going to be even more amazing with ours.” He placed his hands on your growing belly. You had already started to show, 5 months pregnant with Dean’s little girl. He kissed your lips, “Come on sweetheart, let’s get you something to eat and to work. We don’t want you to be late.” 

You nodded, took one last look in the mirror and cradled your belly. You could feel her little kicks, which got stronger when she heard Dean’s voice. You smiled and left the room. Dean had prepared a delicious breakfast of pancakes, bacon, and orange juice. 

Sitting at the kitchen table you started to eat and noticed Dean staring at you. You smiled at him, “What?” “Nothing, I’m just in love with you. I didn’t think it was possible, but you’re even more beautiful.” You felt the heat rise in your cheeks. The two of you talked and ate breakfast. When breakfast was done it was time to head to work.

Dean kissed you goodbye and told you to have an amazing day. You loaded your car and kissed Dean goodbye. “I love you Mr. Winchester.” “I love you too, Mrs. Winchester.” You smiled on his lips. As you climbed in the car and grabbed the steering wheel the sun caught the diamond on your finger. 

After the siren, your and Dean’s bond grew stronger. He proposed, you found out you were pregnant about a month later, and the two of you got married. Everything happened so fast, but you were happy, both of you were happy. Dean had been with you every step of the way with the pregnancy, and when he found out you were having a girl, he was even more excited. 

You knew he was going to make an amazing girl dad. 

Driving to work, you knew no matter what you and Dean had each other, your little girl had both of you. As you drove your phone went off with a text message.

Dean: Have a good day. I love my girls.

You smiled and rubbed your belly, “Baby girl, you are so loved and so wanted. You already have your daddy wrapped around your little finger.” You felt her kick and you smiled. “I love you so much, sweet girl.” 

Part 5

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[starz-saintz]

Redacted x July 4th

A/N: RAHHHH AMERICA!!! I AM AN AMERICAN, SO I SAY AMERICA RAHH

David -> A hound at heart, meaning he has sensitive ears and will flinch at loud noises. It's not a trauma response. He hasn't been a fan of loud noises since forever. He will settle for a sparkler. He does most of the barbecuing and will marinate chicken or stock up on charcoal a day or so in advance. The only one who will remember that unlicensed fireworks are illegal in most states and counties.

Asher -> Loves fireworks. All wolves have sensitive ish ears but he will deal with the consequences of listening to loud noises tomorrow morning. His favorites are the spinner fireworks (the ones that go off and form a spiral in the air), but Roman Candles are a close second. He buys most of the fireworks.

Milo -> He has a stash of the small poppers you throw on the ground from past Fourth of Julys. David probably told him to get rid of the stash, but he obviously didn't listen. Very simple taste when it comes to his favorite firework. A Chrysanthemum and the crackling ones.

Darlin' -> He is the reason fireworks are illegal. He will get the ones that sound like someone is screaming bloody murder when set off. He will also hold his head over an unlit Roman Candle just to freak David out. His favorites are the poppers and strobes.

Sam -> THE AMERICAN MAN actually holds a bit of indifference to fireworks. He thinks they're pretty and whatnot but just doesn't like them. Maybe because it can easily scare the traumatized or dogs, I don't know. His favorites are the comets and pearls because they aren't as loud.

Angel -> Big celebratory person. Loves fireworks and sparklers and glowsticks and all of that. Her favorites are probably the ones that spin as they rise and the glittering ones. Will sit next to David as he wears his headphones to block out the noise.

Baaabe -> Will flinch at the loud fireworks. He thinks they're pretty it's just the sounds that will knock him off guard and can cause him to get defensive. Asher helps him with that and holds him close to keep him grounded.

Sweetheart -> British.

Damien -> Thinks that doing it in neighborhoods can be disruptive and can hurt the elderly, veterans, and pets. But, if its in a more isolated space with a willing crowd and safe fireworks, then go nuts. His family wasn't big on fireworks but would get sparklers for him when he was little. He only started going to fireworks events in high school. His favorite is a horsetail firework.

Huxley -> Has only popped his own fireworks a few times in an abandoned parking lot. Prioritizes safety over all else and will opt for watching fireworks from their car or from the beach. His favorites are the small comets and peonies

Lasko -> He really likes fireworks. It's one of the only parts of his past that he holds on to. Watches the ones the city organizes. He doesn't do much else besides that.

Gavin -> Enjoys all celebrations and extravagant displays. He enjoys the whistling kind and the glittering ones.

Freelancer -> Doesn't know where to find the fireworks pop-up shops so they don't bother buying any at all. They like to watch the ones the city organizes and will spend all night riding around, watching all of the fireworks go up. Their family used to have a small get-together, and they held on to that by hosting their friends.

[copperbadge]

Royals/Ramblers is DONE. I split the difference and made two epilogues from the five, and one of them just looks like it's part of another chapter. I am devious in my ways.

I'm letting it marinate for the rest of the day; I'll give it a quick pass tomorrow, then let go of it for a few days so when I come back I'll be ready for slightly deeper editing. Aiming to post it perhaps October or November, we'll see how life goes.

It meant I could finalize a lot of dates in the timeline that I've been building. I've had to shift some things around, so now the trick is to figure out timing for the stories now in the pipeline, based on my notes. There's ten, more or less, and whether I end up writing them all is dubious; it reminds me of plotting out Laocoon's Children, an extremely ambitious task, but unlike Laocoon's Children, I control the canon and I don't have to deal with anyone's stupidity but my own. And I'm really only focused on five of the ten right now. Which, given I wrote four of these books in fifteen months, plus three books' worth (Royals/Ramblers) for a total of "seven" books in less than two years....I guess we'll find out. Might take a break at some point to write something more literary, that's up to the ADHD I think.

Anyway, it's not necessarily the order in which I'd like to write the stories, but I've been holding off on some of these for a year already, they'll keep. I think the slate coming up is:

2023 Autumn - The Football Novel, which is already 2/3 written; it will run through spring 2024.

2024 Spring - The Chicken Salad Wars, Simon's novel, pushed out from this year to next; it has to end in August, because of Plot.

2024 Autumn - The Roman Ruin story, aka Classics Nerds In Love; this has to come relatively soon because it's prior to Jerry finalizing the dissolution of his estate. There's no set ending for this one, but it will likely need to cover at least until late spring 2025.

2025 Spring - The Let's Legalize Psychedelic Davzda story. Not ideal to push this one so far, but it's possible when I get there I could swap it with the Roman Ruin story, though that could make certain plotlines awkward.

2025 Summer - Ofelia's story, which culminates in Galian elections in early fall.

Fortunately most of them should be less work and words than Royals/Ramblers, which is a bit of a sweeping familial epic. Those five are all more-or-less unrelated to the royals directly.

The rest of them are either barely conceptions or can be set at any time (like the Quaker Whaler novel that happens in the past anyway). Which is kind of nice; I now have both a specific agenda for the immediate future and resources that I can build out once I get closer to the end of that agenda.

Phew. What a ride, and I'm still in the middle of it.

(I'd post a bit of story from Royals/Ramblers but for the last 4-5 chapters it's all spoilery.)

[lulublack90]

Prompt 18 - Gymnastics

@wolfstarmicrofic August 18, word count 986

Previous part First Jegulus part

Sirius led everyone back to his and Remus’s flat. He was so excited about the BBQ. But what he was most excited about was the big bag of marshmallows he’d bought to toast over the fire. He dragged Remus by his hand to the front door and unlocked it. He inhaled deeply when they walked in. He loved his home so much. They hadn’t been here long, but it already held so many happy memories for him. 

James strode through the flat and straight out the French windows into the garden. Regulus stood a bit out of place near the front door until he followed James outside and watched him build up the fire. Sirius and Remus were terrible at starting the BBQ. Even with the easy light bags, somehow they never took. Sirius shrugged and went into the kitchen to get the food out of the fridge, ready to be cooked. 

He could hear James talking in the living room, something about the sofa being soft. Remus darted past him and poked his head around the door.

“If you break it, Potter, you’re paying for another one. Remember last time?” Sirius had to bury his face in the crook of his arm to stop them hearing his laughter. 

“Er, yeah, sorry, Moony,” James said sheepishly. Sirius could hear Regulus whispering excitedly and James’s deep voice rumbling out his excuse for breaking their sofa. They got up and Sirius couldn’t hear them any more. 

He began mixing together his secret salad dressing. It was simple but brought the otherwise bitter leaves to life. It was a recipe that Effie had given him, passed down from her mother and stolen from some friend of her mother. James wouldn’t have any other kind of dressing and was known to sneak a small bottle of it into restaurants and use that instead of whatever they had. 

He checked the steaks he’d been marinating overnight. They smelled divine, peppery and herby. They had sausages and chicken wings as well, plus loads of sides. There was no way they were going to eat it all, but Sirius didn’t mind eating the rest tomorrow. 

“Darling, did you leave you know what on the bedside table?” Remus asked matter-of-factly. Sirius paled.

“Yup,” He swallowed, but he could already hear James and Regulus coming back from that direction, so it was pointless trying to dive and roll around them with all of his teenage gymnastics skills to stop them from seeing what he’d forgotten to put away. Regulus appeared in the doorway beside James and flushed brightly when they made eye contact. “Right start taking this stuff out,” He ordered, trying to get Regulus away from him. He spun to check the dressing again and by the time he’d picked up his own plates to take outside, both Regulus and James were gone. 

“Don’t worry, my love. It could have been worse,” Remus said, stealing a kiss before he followed the others outside. 

He was so full. He could see his stomach protruding over his jeans. He wished he’d changed into his leggings, but now he didn’t want to move. He popped another toasted marshmallow into his mouth and groaned as the sweet gooey mess spread inside his mouth after he broke through the toasted skin. He pulled out his phone and started scrolling through tictok.

He was just popping another marshmallow into his mouth when his thumb froze. He was in a video. 

“WHAT THE ACTUAL!!!” He yelled at his phone as it played a video of him berating Regulus in the café from the other day. He clicked on the creator’s profile, Wormtail was their name and scrolled through. There were a lot of different people losing it in public, but the ones with the most views were of him in the café. “Who the fuck does this guy think he is?!” He cried angrily at his phone. That’s when he noticed the logo, a fat grey rat. The rat phone case man! He was going to kill him. “And I gave you an extra almond croissant you little shit! That's it he’d banned!” 

Remus’s hands found his shoulders and began pushing him into the flat. He looked around for his brother and James, but they’d gone. He had no idea when they’d disappeared, but he was more concerned with the next video that came up of Wormtail going into the back of the café to film him ranting at the toastie machines when he’d burnt his hand on one. That was crossing the line. “Remus,” He said, calmer than before, and held up the phone for Remus to see. 

“What the!” Remus was outraged now. “It clearly says, Staff Only, No Entry, Private, on the door!” His brow was furrowed in anger as he scrolled through a few more of the videos. “It’s not the first time either, look,” Sirius peered at the screen and saw himself rocking back and forth chanting. “Be nice, be nice,” The camera suddenly turned to the ceiling and bounced into the store cupboard before cutting off. “That’s right when you came and got me,” Sirius whispered. He’d been feeling so vulnerable in that moment and some guy he didn’t even know had recorded it and posted it online for likes. “Fuck,” He sobbed. Remus’s arms wrapped him in a tight warm hug.

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you,” He murmured into Sirius’s hair. 

Remus led Sirius to the bedroom, wrapping him in the duvet before going to run a bath. He took Sirius’s phone away from him and Sirius was grateful. He’d only spend the entire night watching the videos over and over, making himself feel worse. At least he had tomorrow to sort himself out. 

“Remus?” His voice was croaky and muffled from the duvet. 

“Yes, sweetheart,” Remus came back in from the bathroom and stroked his hair. 

“Can we go see Mum tomorrow?” 

Next part

[itwasthereaminuteago]

|| Rough Road ||

Frank Castle x female Reader.

Tags/warnings: 'annoying acquaintances of circumstance' to lovers, fingering, oral (f rec), unprotected sex (wrap in RL!), swears 😯

Author's note: This is for the TFC December fic challenge 'Snowed In', so check the tags for more!

If you enjoy my fics please consider reblogging, it means others get to enjoy them too! Thank you so much for reading! 💕

"I think we should try and find somewhere to pull over." you say to Frank. You had been driving for hours and the snow was coming down harder now.

"Mm, I'm pretty sure there's a motel about 15 miles ahead, we can make it, get a couple of rooms and start again in the morning." He replies, concentrating on the road.

You stare up through the windscreen at the neverending horizonless thick grey-white of the sky and the flurry of heavy flakes building up on the road ahead of you. "I don't think we'll make it that far."

Sure enough after another couple miles the road became impassable, you had hardly seen any other cars ahead of you or coming the other way for most of the drive. It was gonna get dark fairly soon.

"Shit." Frank says simply, turning off the ignition after he stopped the van at the side of the road.

"Thank fuck I've got cell service" you say, "I'm gonna call for a truck."

While you were on the phone Frank checked his paper maps for the nearest habitations, but there was nothing that warranted risking trying to walk through a snowstorm at night.

"Okay, the rescue company is dealing with shitloads of people in similar situations and 'cos we've got a van and some supplies they're saying we're further down the list. Earliest they could get to us is tomorrow morning."

"Alright, well they'll probably have cleared the roads by then. Guess that ain't too bad. Just gotta hunker down for the night."

You kicked at the dash in frustration. "Urgh. I told you we should've left after the storm, now we're stuck here in your stupid van, which stinks by the way."

"Stinks?" He screwed up his face in disbelief. "What of? I keep it clean!"

"Of you!"

"Listen, as much as you're a complete pain in my ass it was too dangerous to wait in the city any longer. Now the Russians associate you with me…"

You threw your head back against the rest and sighed. "Yeah. I know. Just gotta lay low for a while." you parroted.

"This ain't exactly my idea of heaven either sweetheart."

You hated when he called you that. Even though it was just an automatic thing for him and it didn't mean anything it really annoyed you. He reached into the back bringing out a pack of cards from the seemingly random selection of shit he had squirreled away there. "Imagine you don't wanna talk about what happened, so it's this or I-Spy."

You groaned and nodded as you whiled away an hour or so playing blackjack until your hungry stomach noises got too loud to ignore.

"Alright, chicken or beef sub?" he asked, diving into the backpack.

You chose the chicken.

"Damn, this is really good. You pick them up before we left? Where from?"

"Made em." He replied, taking a bite of his own.

"Huh." You mused, digging in again.

"Surprised I can make a sandwich?" He scoffs.

You shrug. "Surprised you can make a good sandwich. Guess being ex-marine you gotta have some talents."

"You got no idea." He throws you a wink as he takes a sip of coffee from the thermos and you roll your eyes.

After another hour of whooping his ass at blackjack and a lightning quick excursion into the nearby trees and back to relieve yourself, your yawns and heavy eyelids make it clear that you're gonna have to go to sleep at some point soon.

"Does one of us, uh, need to keep watch or something?" You ask him, watching as he crawls into the back of the van and starts digging out a mat, a singular sleeping bag and blanket.

"Nah. Even if they did send someone to follow us ain't nobody getting through this, we're safe enough." He rolled out the bag and caught your awkward look.

You wrapped your arms around you, it was getting cold now the residual heat from the van had disappated. "So… just the one lot of bedding then?"

He nods. "Yeah, usually just me in here y'know, with all my stank."

You rolled your eyes again. "Yeah, I guess that makes sense."

He has to resist the urge to let you panic about sleeping beside him for a while longer, he's not that cruel. "It's okay, you can have it. I'll be alright up front." He sees your visible relief as you process what he's said, nodding and rummaging in your pack for the toothbrush and toiletries you'd thankfully picked up at your last gas stop, there having been no time to grab anything but the absolute ultimate essentials before you left.

The thick layer of snow that had built up around and on top of the van probably provided quite a bit of insulation, but that didn't exactly stop you from being fucking freezing. You tried to snuggle up deeper into the sleeping bag, all your clothes and a beanie on and the blanket on the top, but you were still cold. You tilted your head up to glance at Frank in the passenger seat, still awake with his jacket on and arms wrapped around himself tight, the occasional puff of his breath misting the air.

"You awake?" You ask, already knowing he was.

"Yeah. You alright?"

"Cold."

"Yeah."

The silence between you seemed to stretch on forever. You pull the blanket tighter around you.

Fuck it. "Uh, if you want, you could come back here, share the blanket? And y'know, body heat will help I guess."

"Thought you couldn't stand my stink?" He throws back at you.

"Well, the cold is kinda trumping that, but it's fine if you don't wanna… just thought it is your stuff after all, don't wanna put you out of your own van."

"Nah, s'good idea." he agrees, climbing into the back with you. You shiver at the initial chill as he lifts the edge of the blanket to lie next to you, your back to his. His jacket is cold against you but after a while you began to warm up, stopping your shivering and finding yourself drifting easily to sleep.

When you wake up it's still dark but you're warm, hot even. As you gradually gain a bit more consciousness you realise that the reason is because Frank has you in a bear hug. He must have turned around in his sleep. His arm is draped over you, big hand splayed over your stomach pulling you impossibly close to him. The only skin contact is his nose at the back of your neck, the warm exhales tickling the light hair there.

It's… pleasant, maybe even something more. He actually smells good. You smile to yourself thinking about the juxtaposition of this killing machine, this angry guard dog let off the chain being a big soft snuggly puppy of a man behind closed doors.

You shift slightly in his hold and then freeze.

Okay, maybe not so soft…

Despite the layers of clothing and a sleeping bag between you, it's unmistakable that it's his cock that's hard and pressing against your ass. You try to rationalise. It's just a normal bodily response after all, but do you dare move? What if he wakes up and it gets awkward, you've got a lot of driving still to do if this snow ever clears…

Any control is taken away from you as Frank stretches momentarily and then wraps you even tighter in his arms, his nose nuzzling into your skin and hips slowly grinding against you with a quiet contented moan. He suddenly stops, pulls away as he wakes and realises where he is, where you are, and what he's doing.

"Shit, fuck…" he turns away from you as he sits up scrubbing his hand over his face. "I'm sorry, I uh… it's uh, been a while since… y'know?"

The blanket rustles softly as you shrug.

"Fuck, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-" He cuts himself off as his eyes adjust to the darkness, his ears registering the sound of the sleeping bag zip being opened and his gaze finding the smallest glimmer of soft light reflected in your own.

"It's okay. S'been a while for me too," you admit. This might be the stupidest decision you've ever made when it comes to sex, or even when it comes to roadtrips, but you can't seem to override it. Not when he looks at you like that, smells like that, makes you feel like that. He saved your life but you don't think that's all it is.

You slough off your defensive dislike and begin to embrace something that at least feels real.

His face is a picture in the dim snow-reflected light within the van as you reach for him, pulling his warmth and his lips towards you. He's taken aback, but his hand cups your jaw and you find yourself surprised by the tenderness with which his mouth meets your own. You don't waste a second, catching his wrist and guiding him down to palm over your chest, quickly leading his hand under the waistband of your pants so he can feel just how much he's affected you in this short space of time. It's like you're trying not to have the time to think about it. You both carry ghosts from your past that you've never openly shared, but you know, simply from the slight hesitation in his touch even as you urge him on.

The tender kisses soon heat up. "Call me sweetheart again." You breathe against his mouth, and he groans deep as his fingers meet with the wetness at your core. Your own hands explore underneath his jacket, fingers feeling the hard muscle of his chest under his shirt. You reach down to cup his cock through his jeans and then tug at them, moaning as he hurries to unbutton your pants so he can swipe his fingers through your slick folds. His mouth is on your skin, hungry to taste more of you as you scrabble to undo his pants too, urging them and his underwear down just enough to free his gloriously erect cock. He helps you wriggle halfway out of your pants too and now you're jacking each other off like a couple of teenagers, his fingers slippery and desperate over your throbbing clit, and yours covered with sticky precum as you wrap your hand around and stroke him.

"Oh shit…" you whine, as he skillfully brings you closer to the edge, your hips moving against his hand as he watches you. You forget the cold, gasping as he slips a finger inside you, your grip tightening around his cock making him grunt in such a delicious way that you can't help the words spilling from your lips.

"Frank, fuck me, please!" You're begging, you've never begged for anything other than to stay alive, but you need this, you want to feel him inside you, there's nothing else that will satisfy the ache.

He pauses, staring at you like you've just proposed or something. It takes him a hot minute to register what you're saying, but once those words sear into his brain he moves fast, lips sucking and kissing at the skin of your neck like a brand as he yanks your pants all the way down and off, his mouth following. He pushes up your shirt when he gets to the hem, his tongue trailing right up the centerline of your body to your bra where he mouths over the curve of your breasts before pulling down a cup. You arch your back as he takes your peaked nipple between his lips before he continues downward.

You claw at his shoulders as his nose bumps at the front of your underwear, just giving your clit the barest pressure, teasing you instead of giving you what you need, but you soon change your mind as he hooks his fingers under the elastic pulling them off you so he can bury his face in your pussy. He presses your thighs apart, holding you down as your hips try to rise up to meet the mind melting sensation of his tongue on you, in you. You moan, curse, and praise him as he quickly stokes your need and desire into a sharp dense point where you can do nothing else but implode in on yourself, screaming his name as he makes you feel.

He rises from between your thighs, licking his glistening lips with a small smile. It looks good on him.

"You alright, sweetheart?"

"Getting warmer, could be better." You throw back as you catch your breath and return the smile, yanking him back over you and using your feet to help him push his pants all the way off. When you take him in your hand again his gaze flits between your eyes and your mouth, which he claims in a hot kiss as you guide him to you, reveling in the feeling of the head of his thick cock spearing inside your heat.

"God damn." is all he can say, and you can only agree as he repeats it like a mantra as the slow slide of his cock filling and stretching your cunt has your eyes almost rolling back into your head with a long and loud moan.

You wrap your legs around his waist as he rolls his hips into you, the mental and physical battle he's fighting between going slowly, gently, and pounding you fucking senseless is palpable. He's drawing out sounds that you would never even make when you're alone. It might just be because you haven't had any form of touch from anyone for a long time, but you're more certain that it's all him that's making you flustered, hitting all your spots and stripping you down to a bare wire of being with nothing but his soft dark eyes.

That growling, barking, flesh-ripping fighting dog is still there underneath, you can feel how he holds it inside himself, yanking at the chain and always ready to be released when there's a need. The fact that he's driven you out of the city is proof that he actually cares what the fuck happens to you, and that sort of blows your mind. You could have easily gone alone, you were ready to jump on a Greyhound and make your own way but he wouldn't have it. He made you his responsibility. Yeah he was a killer but he was also a protector. Your protector.

He wasn't much of a talker but with his dick buried inside you he's soon gritting out reams of praise that have you clenching around him and mewling as his hand squeezes over the firm curve of your ass.

"Feel so good girl, s'fucking tight…"

You inhale sharply as he reaches between your hot skin to find your clit and ensure that you feel what he's feeling. Your fingernails graze over his scalp and the short hair at the nape of his neck as you pull him even closer, your second orgasm building up fast as he drives into you over and over.

"Ohh, god-"

"That's it sweet thing," he murmurs against your ear as the indescribable feeling of his cock dragging inside has you both on the very edge. "C'mon angel, such a good girl f'me."

You keen at the praise, something he'd unlocked from your subconscious with the simplest key, something even you didn't know you would react to. "Fuck… you're gonna make me-"

Frank feels you start to shake around him, moving his fingers even faster over that swollen little bundle of nerves. It's too much.

"Shit. You feel too fuckin' good, I gotta-" He moves to pull out suddenly and you claw at his ass stopping him before he does, you'll be damned if you don't feel him come inside you.

You whine as he stills. "Fuck! Don't stop, don't fucking stop…"

He looks for your assurance. "You sure? You want this?" his voice is quieter now, wavering. If you say yes he doesn't know that he'll last.

You nod frantically, tilting your hips up, wrapping your arms around his neck, the movement making him groan as you feel like utter heaven around him. He never thought you could be so soft, so open, needy.

The van rocks gently on its suspension as he resumes, every powerful thrust as he's fucking you punching such beautiful sounds from your throat. He can feel every gripping twitch of your perfect cunt as you begin falling apart underneath him, so tight, hot, and wet and quietly begging him to fill you. Your nails dig into the muscle of his huge shoulders and your mouth falls open, thighs tightening their hold around his waist as your moans crest. Don't stop, you told him, and he briefly wonders how he thought he ever could when you feel like this.

"Good girl, fuck- that's my good girl…" it's whispered and desperate, he's barely holding on by a hair.

The possessiveness in his words makes your eyes scrunch up tight and your body open. His cock is hitting you hard right where you need it, the focused touch of his fingers radiating out and burning you up.

"F-frank I-"

You unravel, crying out as you clench around him again and again as torrents of pleasure rip through your entire body. Your eyes fly open, locked on his, determined to witness how he might follow you into bliss. Your hips buck up chasing his own, his harsh warm breath washing over your skin with a deep, sensual moan as he finally lets go, pulsing inside you, not stopping the slowing, stuttering motion of his thrusts until he's given you absolutely everything he's got.

Laying there still entwined, a deep satisfying rumble from Frank's chest breaks the contrasting near-silence as he carefully rolls you on top of him and strokes his fingers lightly over your cheek and along your jaw, sliding them into your hair as his lips brush yours in a soft kiss.

"Frank..." you hum, your forehead resting on his. You can't stop your small nervous giggle as you're still unsure about what this is.

"Yeah." is all he says in return, his hands gliding down over your bare back and your hips, the sleeping bag and blankets forgotten now that inside the van had become a damn sight warmer. The windows with the covering of snow on the outside almost glow through the misting from your body heat on the inside of the glass. It's like you're trapped in a snowglobe. The image soon shatters as your mind clears from the dreamy fog of what you've just done.

"Shit. I-I'm sorry, I know that you-" you start to explain all the reasons that you know this is just a one-time thing, more for yourself than him, but he stops you before you can reel off the excuses.

"Hey," he says, gently catching your chin in his hand and running his fingers lightly over your skin. "We don't need to do all that shit, y'know?"

You can't help looking anywhere but in his eyes.

"Hey, c'mon, it's okay." He repeats.

You wish he wasn't like this, wish he would be colder with you, go back to the sniping, reluctant, thrown-together partnership, or whatever it was you had before. It takes effort but when you manage to meet the warmth of his gaze it feels like something you could get used to looking at.

"Look, it is what it is, yeah? I'm gonna keep you safe, no matter what."

You nod and allow him to pull you close to his chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breath and the thump of his heart through his ribcage.

"It is what it is," you murmur, your eyes growing heavy as you melt into sleep.

Frank tags:

@divinearchangel @saintmurd0ck @castlesnchurches @mindidjarin @hellskitchenswhore @pedrito-friskito @sweetieswiftie @shedaresthedevil @freshabogados

@father4giveme @stress--relief @e-dubbc11 @whistle1whistle @tea-and-wine @emiemiemiii @imherefordeanandbones @phoebe-danvers @munsonownsmyass

[familyvideostevie]

39 with Steve?🥺

popping back to this lingering kiss prompt because i finally had an idea for it! hope you like <3 gn!reader

“everything is going to be okay” kisses ___

It's too late to be awake. Even you, a night owl, is rarely away this late. The clock on the wall reads 2:30 in the darkness of the kitchen, only lit by the single bulb you've turned on.

You sit at the small kitchen table, one leg tucked under you and the other bouncing silently. It's cold down here and you wish you were back in your warm bed next to Steve.

But your mind is racing. There are about ten thousand things you have to do this week between work and the dinner party you're throwing and bills that need to be paid and it's just one of those nights where you mind will not shut up.

The list in front of you is only getting longer but it's helping...maybe. Groceries, Call Mom, Pick up Dustin on Thursday, Call gas company, Marinate chicken and so on and so forth.

You're so busy trying to wrangle your thoughts that you don't hear Steve pad down the stairs and into the kitchen until he gently clears his throat do he doesn't startle you.

"You okay?" His voice is rough with sleep and when you look at him he's rubbing his eyes, sweatpants slung low on his hips, hair an absolute riot. His chest is bare and he must be cold.

"Sorry," you say automatically. "I thought I was quiet."

"You were," Steve replies. "But I felt you gone after a while, I think."

You huff. "Go back to bed, Steve. I'm fine." You don't know how long it'll take before you tire yourself out but you're not about to drag him into exhaustion with you.

"You're up," he says simply. "So I'm up." His tone leaves no room for argument. "Can I sit with you?" He doesn't wait for an answer before he pulls out the chair next to you and plops down.

"You're gonna get cold, Steve," you tell him, eyes raking over his torso. He's awake enough to smirk.

"Nah, you know me. I'm hot." That gets a little laugh out of you and he looks pleased, eyes squinty and still a little clouded with sleep. He pats his lap and you obey, unfolding yourself and turning in your chair to face him before you swing your legs over his thighs. He scoots closer.

"So, what're we doing?" We. Like anything that's your problem is his, too. Steve slots into your life like he was always meant to be there, filling a space made exactly for him.

You sigh. "Just a to-do list. Too much going on in my brain to sleep." He makes a grabby motion with one hand, the other resting on your knee. You pass him one of the papers and he reads it, holding it a little too close to his eyes since he's not wearing his glasses. You reach over and run a hand through his hair.

"We can totally do this," he scoffs. "Piece of cake. I'll hit the store tomorrow and then again on Wednesday for fresh stuff and I'll get Dustin, too. Want me to call your mom?" He grins.

You roll your eyes. "No, I'll handle that one. Even if she likes you better." Steve makes a small noise, a hum in the back of his throat, and his hand moves from your knee to your neck, leaving a gentle trail of tingling as he goes.

"C'mere," he says. "Stop thinking for just a minute." He presses his fingers very gently under the collar of your t-shirt and you allow him to pull your head to his shoulder, scooting to the edge of your chair so that you're almost totally in his lap. His other hand gently grips your thigh.

He breathes a little heavily, an exaggerated inhale and exhale that you start to match without calling him out on it. The sound of your breaths fill the otherwise quiet kitchen. You close your eyes.

Steve very carefully kisses your temple once, twice, three times before pulling you even closer, so gently his lips barely make a sound. It's more breath than kiss, almost. It's gonna be okay, he's saying. Everything is gonna be okay.

These are your favorite kind of kisses from Steve, though you've never told him so. It's because they seem so instinctual to him, like his affection for you is basically a reflex at this point. His lips on your skin, brushing your hairline as he stokes your back slowly with his big hand, catching the edge of your top at the bottom and brushing a strip of skin with warm hands.

"This is really just me trying to get you to come back to bed," he says softly. "Is it working?"

You open your eyes and find Steve looking down at you as best he can at this angle. Miraculously, your mind has slowed, your thoughts slinking back into the dark for now.

You nod before you're ambushed by a yawn. Steve catches it himself, and makes to stand up. You pull yourself from his hold and stretch as he turns off the kitchen light, plunging you into darkness.

"C'mon," he says. "I'm cold." You stuck out your tongue at him, though he probably can't see.

"Told you so," you say. He fumbles for your hand in the dark and pulls you towards the stairs.

"Guess you're gonna have to be the big spoon, huh?" He squeezes your fingers.

You smile at his back. "Poor me." Things could be worse. They could be better, too, but regardless, at least you've got Steve.

[kickthecan-revolution]

Round 2 +12d

I slept over 7h last night and could have slept so much more. I got up, had some rice and beef with a protein shake and some coffee, I marinated some chicken and steak and then grilled it and it’s so good, it’s a good thing to have in my refrigerator. More protein is key to having a good day.

There’s so much that I want to write about but it’s all locked inside. How these good days make me cry. How it feels to fight sleeping by getting on the elliptical which helps me not sleep during the day so I can sleep at night. That my vegetables are growing. That I booked a flight to Seattle for tomorrow and was dead set against going, that depression and isolation telling me I shouldn’t and couldn’t and I didn’t want be seen or see anyone but that I’m going anyway and even letting people know. That I made an appointment today to meet a woman who gives spiritual direction and when she reminded me this morning (I’d totally forgotten), I didn’t bail.

I’m proud of myself for how I’m handling this, I had no idea how hard it would be, I’m humbled by it. It might get harder but I’ll find what I need to do it. I’m surrounded by Grace that I do not deserve and push away more than I receive. The cattle prod that has motivated me for as long as I can remember is lessening - I said to a friend today “I don’t want this cattle prod of survival, anger, terror, desperation to be what makes me get out of bed everyday. I want it to be Love but I don’t know how to replace it. I don’t know how to experience that.”

Maybe just saying it out loud will help it form. I hope, I hope. Love is the only thing I can’t control, I can’t manipulate and I can’t fake. It’s elusive as a result and to think I could genuinely feel it and give it seems like an impossibility but so did getting through chemo, and I’m doing that.

[congregamus]

In addition to everything else, I also made a chicken salad, of course. Because it doesn't matter how sick I am of chicken salad, it's a picnic for fuck's sake. Except instead of the usual base, I made a fresh garlic ranch, because I realized that I had enough bacon in the fridge that I could make fresh bacon bits. Who's going to complain about chicken + bacon + ranch?

I still have to make the fresh cocktail sauce and the vinaigrette for the chickpea salad.

Tomorrow morning, I will chop all the lemons for the prawn cocktail, cube the feta, and add it, along with the vinaigrette, to the salad so that it has enough time to marinate, but not enough time to start to break down, hopefully.

I'll probably sigh over the bottle of white I won't pack, but I'll have a gummy with me, and that will be enough. If people come to a picnic without their own wine, that's really on them. I'm just making sure people have a decent bit of food (and sunscreen and enough lawn relatively near the action). I was not given that much money to make this party.

Anyway, the kitchen is a complete wreck, and I have no desire to deal with it, but I also don't want ants lol

[iguessyouwonderwhereivebeen]

attention posting as I mindlessly munch of dark chocolate covered almonds, it’s that 2pm lull where the disdain and annoyance of logging on to my laptop at 9am on a Monday to do a job I no longer feel excited about is met with the anxiety and dread of all the looming tasks I have to get done today and this week. A lot going on this week including a spontaneous weekend trip to Santa Monica (I’m leaving Thursday night) that I need to pack and prep for. Today at 4pm I have a face time call planned with my friend from college who currently lives London. I haven’t talked to her in ages so I’m going to catch her up on my plans to move. Also feeling generally discouraged by the lack of traction my listing has gotten since I’ve put my apartment up for rent. I updated the listings on both sites today with more pictures and lowered the rent so that the garage parking is listed separately as an additional cost. I hope this gets me in touch with more prospective tenants. Please little hungry flies looking for new housing, come to my sweet honey listing.. it’s also hard because I put so much love and care into my home I don’t want to sell it short and want to make sure it goes to the right, responsible person.. I broke the news that I’m planning on leaving Chicago to my parents yesterday after I took them out to dinner, they took it hard but were supportive overall. Then my ex called me and I called him back and the conversation left me hurt and disappointed but ultimately reaffirmed my decision. Change is so scary and hard but even the last two months have resulted in a lot of growth for me, like I’ve finally taken action and taken the first steps to accomplish some things I’ve been wanting to do for years. So I think it’s good, even tho it’s been hard, and I’m cautiously hopeful and optimistic that the projects that have begun and what has already been set in motion and has taken flight will result in a favorable outcome 🧿🪬 also wearing cou cou intimate undies today and I love them, wore the new woven white heals I thrifted for the first time this weekend to run errands, got a little blister but it was a good first go. Going on a run, groceries, laundry and a face mask are also on my itinerary today. Tomorrow for dinner I’m going to make buttermilk marinated roasted chicken with fennel and carrots, mashed potatoes with a huge green leaf salad and I can’t wait 

[mybikesurly]

Birthday weekend for the twins. Unexciting non-milestone year, but finding ways to celebrate.

Daughter A wanted a North Indian dinner and an orange chocolate cake. Sadly I didn’t get a pic of the cake. The NY times Chocolate Orange drizzle recipe was solid.

Approximately 83 spices later, tikka paste made and chicken marinating, cake was iced and ready to feast upon..

pineapple chutney wrapped up and then grilled chicken, roast potatoes for aloo saag.

I used the wrong measuring spoon on the aloo. Way too spicy but cut the base in half to salvage the dish. Tikki masala was the bomb after grilling the tandoori chicken.

Tomorrow will take out daughter B for a dinner. She wants Japanese and i have poor skills when making sushi. masubi and onogiri are my extents.

Off to tinker on the car between rain showers.

Hope everyone is making the best of Sunday. Lazy weather here.

[wilderflcwers]

had to clip this bit as it caused me to lose my life

(transcript:)

Murph: And you see, almost instantly, Ol’ Guppy bursts through the door.

Ol' Guppy: Oh, hey, ah, heard you’re on the market.

Calliope: Yeah, you want to buy the Grand Mariner?

Ol' Guppy: Yeah, we’re gonna buy the Grand Mariner.

Sol: Wow!

Ol' Guppy: Yeah, we’ve been trying to buy it for a bit, we’ve been trying to, you know, get a new business because the bar hasn’t been doing too well.

Calder: Wow, I can’t imagine why.

Sol: I think, you know, going from a small bar to a massive hotel is gonna be the perfect fit.

Ol' Guppy: Yeah.

Calliope: I think so.

Ol' Guppy: I got you guys a baby.

Sol: Huh?

Calliope & Calder: What?

Murph: You see Ol’ Guppy hands you guys a fishbowl with a fish in it.

Sol: Is this your…child?

Ol' Guppy: Yeah.

Sol: Congratulations!

Ol' Guppy: One—one of ‘em.

Calliope: Do you—do you want to raise your own child?

Ol' Guppy: I have—I’ve raised a ton of ‘em.

Calliope: Ok!

Sol: You want us to just…take your baby?

Ol' Guppy: Yeah, just one of ‘em!

Sol: I don’t know anything about Guppy culture, maybe this is like a thing.

Ol' Guppy: These guys are very finicky eaters, saltwater fish, difficult to maintain—

Calliope: Saltwater—shit. I’m freshwater.

Ol' Guppy: What? You got a freshwater tank?

Calliope: I’m freshwater.

Sol: I’m freshwater too.

Ol' Guppy: Ok, well, you just gotta get a saltwater tank, it’s not a big deal.

Calder: It’s—ok.

Ol' Guppy: If they live, they live for like 200 years. I’m 194.

Calder: It’s a lot of responsibility.

Sol: Wow!

Ol' Guppy: Yeah.

Calliope: Ok. Ok!

Ol' Guppy: Ok.

Calliope: Thank you…

Ol' Guppy: Alright.

Calliope: …so much.

Ol' Guppy: I’m gonna start filling out the paperwork back here with the manager or whatever.

Calder: You’re sure you don’t want to go home and work on a business plan and come back tomorrow or the next day?

Ol' Guppy: AH…I feel like I’ll figure it out. I feel like when you guys already ran the hotel, pretty much, so, we’ll take it from here.

Calliope: What is its name?

Ol' Guppy: What is the fish’s name?

Calliope: The baby.

Ol' Guppy: The baby’s name? I just gunked out a buncha eggs, so—

Calliope: Ok, we’ll call him Gunk!

Sol: Gunk is perfect!

Calliope: Gunk is perfect.

Ol' Guppy: Perfect. Alright.

Calder: Gunk.

Sol: Gunk Jungle!

Ol' Guppy: Alright, be careful out there. Alright. Let me know if you need any room service.

Calliope & Sol: We do.

Ol' Guppy: Yeah.

Calliope: (I look at Gunk, and I think of him saying he gunked all over a bunch of eggs, and I say,) I think I’m actually good. I’m good.

Ol' Guppy: Ok. Well, he’s gonna need to eat every couple hours.

Calder: (incredulous) Couple hours…

Sol: I think, just, you know, like one of everything. Just bring it on up.

Ol' Guppy: One of everything, ok.

Calder: What does Gunk eat?

Ol' Guppy: What does Gunk eat?

Calder: What is Gunk’s diet?

Ol' Guppy: You gotta figure it out.

Calliope: What?

Ol' Guppy: I don’t know!

Calliope: That is not normal for the baby process!

Ol' Guppy: I’m 194 years old, I live to be 200, when do you think the last time I raised kids was!

Calliope: Do you have books that tell me how to raise this child?

Ol' Guppy: I told you. Finicky eaters, saltwater.

Calder: Got it.

Calliope: You don’t have, like, a—

Ol' Guppy: Live to be 200 years old.

Calder: Of course.

Ol' Guppy: Stinks really bad if he dies.

Calder: Really.

Sol: Why—

Ol' Guppy: Yeah.

Sol: So don’t let it die. (Ol' Guppy: Don’t let him die.) That’s a good start for any parent, I’d say.

Calder: (I look at Gunk and I say,) Um, what do you want to eat, kid?

Murph: You see the little guppy just swims up to the side and gives you the stink eye. Just this little green fish with beady little eyes and a big, sad mouth.

Calder: Are you mad at me?

Sol: So like, chicken nuggets?

Gunk: (Gunk noises)

Calliope: (I start just dangling food into the bowl.)

Murph: Give me a persuasion check with disadvantage.

Emily: That’s a three and a four, becomes a twelve.

Murph: Hides in the bottom of the bowl.

Calder: Ok…

Calliope: Ok.

Riaris: Oh, wow.

Jake: Maybe—Calder tries cheese, just like some—some cheese that he has.

Murph: Give me a persuasion check with disadvantage.

Sol: You had cheese this whole time?

Jake: Shout-out to the Two Crew.

Murph: You see he hides in the other corner of the bowl.

Calder: That makes sense.

Murph: You see the bowl starts to get dirty.

Ol' Guppy: Oh, you’re gonna have to change that.

Calder: Yeah, of course.

Ol' Guppy: Yeah, they poop a lot, even though they don’t eat a lot.

Sol: Huh. That’s interesting.

Calliope: Change the bowl…change the bowl…

Ol' Guppy: So just be on the lookout.

Calder: (I run outside the airlock, change the water, come back.)

Murph: You see Riaris puts his hand on your guys’ shoulders.

Riaris: I can take this on, if this is—if that would be better for you guys, and if you think it might be better for Gunk. I know you guys are on the run.

Calliope: I think I kind of want Gunk, but I’m a little worried that Gunk is gonna just freeze when we go up north.

Calder: Will you look after Gunk for us til we get back?

Sol: Yeah, I don’t think we could put a parka on Gunk.

Riaris: Just another reason for you guys to come back soon!

Calliope: (I hand over Gunk, but I’m shaking, like I’ve already formed a bond.)

Murph: You see Kenna holds—you see Kenna puts her hand on your shoulder.

Kenna: (tearfully) We’re gonna miss you, Gunk.

Calder: (I snatch Gunk. I snatch Gunk.) Um, we’ll let—well, we’ll bring him up to the room for the room service and one last feast, don’t you think?

Caldwell: I want to try something real quick.

Calder: We’ll hang out with him for a bit.

Caldwell: Just gonna pour a little bit of a Molson into Gunk’s bowl.

Murph: Go ahead and give me a persuasion check with disadvantage.

Caldwell: HAH! That’s a natural one.

Murph: You see, it looks like Gunk dies.

Sol: AAH—

Calliope: WHAT?

Murph: Turns upside down and begins floating (laughing) towards the top—

Calder: (I rush out and I change the water. I change the water. I change the water! Instantly change the water.)

Calliope: HE’S JOKING, HE’S JOKING!

(unintelligible distress)

Calliope: GUNK! Please, I only just met you and I love you already!

Sol: I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry!

Calliope: GUNK!

Murph: You see Gunk flips back up and just kind of looks pissed off.

Calder: (I come in and I push Sol really hard.) What are you doing?

Sol: I deserve that, you’re right. Riaris, clearly we are not ready for a child. I think that you, as the Guardian of the Vibe, this is part of your charge, this is part of your—

Calder: We’re not ready? You’re not ready! I just did cheese, you did beer!

Calliope: I know! I know!

Riaris: (placatingly) Let’s keep the vibe going, ok, let’s get up to that penthouse.

Calliope: I was gonna figure it out…

Riaris: Let’s get up to the penthouse.

Calder: Come on, Gunk.

Murph: You guys get up to this penthouse that looks out into the ocean. You can see all these fish, now free of Gromdall’s influence, sort of swim around happily. You can see the neon of the city in the distance, all these colorful lights that cascade into this big circular room.

Jake: Are there any expensive penthouse snacks, like a Toblerone bar, or, you know, fancy nuts?

Murph: Yeah, you find—

Jake: Can I try to feed Gunk again?

Murph: Yeah, of course, give me an animal handling or persuasion check with disadvantage.

Jake: Ok, that’s a little bit better.

Caldwell: I love the Gunk minigame.

Jake: Fourteen?

Murph: Fourteen? You see that Gunk sniffs a Toblerone bar.

Emily: Ok, ok, what about, are there any, like, healthy granola bars that are a little bit decadent?

Murph: Go ahead and give me an animal handling or persuasion check with disadvantage.

Emily: Dirty twenty.

Murph: Ok! Gunk begins eating the granola bar.

Calliope: It just wanted something nourishing!

Riaris: I don’t know if that’s good for it…

Calliope: He’s just been born!

Riaris: …but he’s eating it, and that’s nice…

Calliope: He knows instinctually that he needs this.

Calder: The young know what they want, indeed.

[brostateexam]

Did meal prep for the week, which consisted of chicken tortilla soup, turkey chili verde, chocolate chip banana muffins, and hard boiled eggs.

Wednesday or Thursday I'll make a short rib stew in the slow cooker and a red sauce to pair with zoodles, and probably at some point tomorrow I'll make marinated mushrooms for snack plates during the day when it's hot and I don't want to eat hot soup.

I've been having fun both days on the weekend the last few weeks which has messed up meal prep time, so I'm glad I got back to it. There have been way too many meals of like egg on toast and protein bars for the last little while.