#*pops bottle of sparkling grape juice*

[ioannemos]

hng

birvday

[itsalwaysthesamehere]

Hey guys! This is from my ana doc that I keep private for the most part but I figured sharing would be great considering a lot of these tips/collections I got from tumblr anyways haha. I take no credit for any of this besides the food logs which are from my first week of relapsing. Ive tried to take things slower because I do have people Im hiding this relapse from so pleaseeeeeeeee no judgement. Im also super broke so I basically have to eat whatever we have at home. Enjoy yall!

Week one: No meat products. Prep soy sauce eggs, spicy foods and have breakfast, nothing off limits but only eat half of whatever you get for the week. Tons of salad and avoid heavy foods. 

Monday: 1800, high protein. 

Tuesday: 1600 Wednesday: 1400 Thursday: 1200 Friday: 1000

Saturday: 1200 Sunday: 1000

Monday: 1200

Tuesday: 1200

Wednesday: 1000

Thursday: 1000

Friday: 800 Saturday: 800 Sunday: 800 

Food log:

12/03/2023-

2 slimjims- 80 cal

One street taco- 75 cal

Cheese- 50 cal

Ravioli and salad: 350 calories

Total for breakfast- 205 calories

Total for dinner- 350 calories

Snack at night: 3 bananas, chocolates, chips :<, 1020 calories

Food log #2:

Breakfast: cottage cheese and raspberry jelly on toast, calories 147

Dinner: Spaghetti with garlic bread, calories 600

Snack: Garlic bread guts, 600 calories (heavily estimated, heavily exaggerated 

Total: 1,350 calories 

Food log #3:

Breakfast: White bread, cottage cheese and sugarfree raspberry jam, calories 200

Dinner: Cowboy stew with cornbread, calories 800

Snacks: Pastry :<, poptarts 1,150 calories

Total: 2540 calories

Lunch: Cowboy stew, 800

Snacks: One bite of pastry puff, cottage cheese with ritz crackers,pringles,  calories 437 

Total: 1,237 calories

Food log #5: 

Snack: Cottage cheese with sugarfree raspberry preserves and blueberries,, one chocolate, yahoo milk, sucker 335 cals 

Dinner: Alfredo with penne pasta, calories 600

Food log #6: 

Breakfast: 1/5th of a grape fruit, 1 egg white, 3 strips of bell pepper, 3 strawberries, and half a pom drink. Cals: 139

Snack: Icecream bite, 50 cals

Safe foods: 

Airhead - 60

Popcorn - 64 (per cup airpopped)

Animal crackers - 85 (ten crackers)

Baby ruth - 98

Milky way - 99

Vitamin water sugar-free - 0

Sparkling ice sugar-free - 5

Bai - 5 (any flavor)

Caprisun - 30-80 (depends on the flavor)

V8 - 45

Chinese fortune cookie - 15

Laffy taffy - 33

Pop rocks - 36

Cotton candy - 40 (10g)

Lollipop - 47

Candy cane - 59

White bread - 67

Angel food cake - 72

Victorian sponge cake - 72

Opera cake - 80

Buttermilk Pancake - 83

Pancake - 86

Pepperoni - 10

Chicken breast fillet - 17

Prosciutto- 18

Sushi - 39

Literally any lunch meat, they're all low cal!

Strip steak - 40 (3 slices!!!)

Quail breast - 69

Turkey wings - 53

Chicken wings - 77

Beef tripe - 80

Beef jerky - 82

Mushrooms - 1

Baby carrots - 5

Celery - 6

Bell pepper - 15

Tomatos - 20

Zucchini -  33

Green beans - 34 (per cup!!! Just throw on some red pepper and lemon juice and feast, sisters)

Artichoke - 60

Cucumber  - 66

Cherries - 4

Apricots - 17

Passion fruit - 17

Plums - 30

Cantaloupe - 23 (per 70g)

Mandarin oranges - 47

Peaches - 60

DON'T BINGE: 

Take a moment and talk to God about it (even if you’re not a believer, it doesn’t hurt to try!)

Watch mukbang about the food that you are craving

Watch supersize vs superskinny (its on YouTube)

Look in the mirror and remind yourself why you are doing this in the first place

Read a book

Do your homework

Do chores

Smell at the food that you are craving

Write down your feelings and cravings (trust me it helps sm)

Drink A LOT of water. Drink until you feel like you’re about to explode

Clean your room! Get rid of all those water bottles and dishes.

Clean out your closet, decide what clothes you don’t wear and donate them to your local thrift store!

Go on a shopping spree! (Don’t spend all your money though!)

Organize your Pinterest boards

Compare yourself to th!nsp0

Weigh yourself

Listen to music

Drink calming tea

Catch up with a friend!

Talk to your pet about your feelings

Sleep the cravings out

Take a long walk

Take a cold shower

Watch a movie you haven’t seen before

Take care of your nails!

Look up how to do something you have always wanted to learn (make-up, macramé, origami, sign language, …)

This might sound weird but I love sudokus and they always get me focused enough to stop thinking about bingeing

Make a to-do list for the rest of the week

Listen to a podcast

Have a self-care day (take an everything-shower, put on a face mask, take care of your hair and body)

Make an essay about any topic you like

Start writing a book

Re-decorate your room

Make a New Year’s resolution list! Who do you want to be at the end of 2024?

^ or make a vision board !!!

Call a friend or family member

Read the newspaper (lowkey more interesting than I expected it to be)

If you’re frustrated about it, scream into a pillow

Scroll on insta or tiktok

Built a Lego set

Pick some flowers!

Practice deep breathing

Try yoga if you haven’t before!

If you are still standing in your kitchen, girl get out rn

Ask yourself if you are physically hungry, the answer is most likely no

Keep a food diary

Munch on a low cal snack instead, take veerryyyy slow bites

Thing I do but definitely don’t recommend:

Binge and purge (if you purge make sure you brush your teeth abt 30mins after)

Sm0ke or v@pe (depends if i’m able to go outside or not)

Sh (please, pleaaaase don’t do this)

I’m so guilty to do this to my family and the people who think I’m in a true recovery. But if I don’t Im scared of what might happen, I’m scared I’ll kill myself or even worse. I just really want to lose weight and feel like myself again

On day one I did mess up by having meat early on but we have to go through meat products before I can buy vegetarian substitutes plus we don’t have eggs rn. 

so you think you're "stuck" here again? you're not actually stuck, you're just not trying hard enough. you can lower your intake, walk more, exercise harder, fast for longer. the only thing stopping you from losing weight is you. why haven't you changed that? do something.

It’s only been two hours and you are already eating again. You are gonna be huge forever.

if you're looking at some food and doubting yourself if you should eat it or not, the answer is no 

I doubt that eating makes you as happy as stepping on the scale and seeing that you lost weight

You aren’t hungry, you’re just bored.

Excuses to not eat:

My tummy hurts from gallbladder

I took my pills in the morning and got sick

Sky kept me busy all day

Shared breakfast and lunch with sky

Thought I ate, forgot. *Go to get a snack and come back with a drink or small treat*

Spend time cooking for others

Talk about how you ate different things for breakfast

Smaller chest

Sharper jawline

Less curvy thighs

Square hips

Dainty hands

Collarbones

Slutty waist

Sharp shoulders

To float in my clothes

To look hot in emo clothes

Deeper set eyes

Visible spine

✨️Hipbones✨️

To save money (less food eaten, less food to buy)

Mesh tops

Muscles easier to see

People telling me I'm so small

Boyfriends being able to pick me up like it's nothing

some tips on food fixation and binging urges:

hellooo, ive been thinking about compiling some things that have helped me get my mind off of food and overall just writing down some rant -- so here it is!

keep in mind, im not an expert and this is mostly just me babbling. im writing this as a motivation for myself, and it will probably not work for everyone, but if you find any of this stuff helpful -- my pleasure!

★ mindfulness ★

`` first of all -- ive found that that strong-urge-to-binge thing is more of a state, not a feeling. it helps me to treat it as such: a mental state, a spiral, and to come out of that spiral you can:

◌ stop!

◌ breath in, breath out. ground yourself. have that thought of "wait, what am i doing?" in the space between you and the fridge

◌ check in with your body. what position are you in? does something hurt? are you cold? are you tired? overenergized?

◌ check in with your mind. is there any buzz? are you overwhelmed?

◌ if you located the issue (eg. im tired! i want comfort! so food = comfort!) -- great! move on from there to resolving this issue in a more mindful, not-involving-food way (then i should nap, do yoga, just lie on the floor, watch comfort movie)

why are we doing that? in my opinon, its very important to train that "what am i doing" moment of conciousness, because through that you can see better why you want to binge. is it a mental thing? how can you cope without food? is it a physical feeling? an effect of restriction? how can you tweak your eating to make it better (imo, fasting does better job at managing binges than plain restriction)

you cant just showe thinspo at your face everytime you crave something, after all : )

★ activities ★

`` make something with your hands! ohh my god! i cant stress it enough, it can help you to not get fixated on thinking about food so much! it can be something easy like drawing, or you can look up something new for yourself

`` go on a walk. i know, it can be very tiring to even think about, but t does wonders at distracting you

`` yoga. very simple and very effective. or, alternatively

`` do nothing at all for a bit. just. lie down, turn off your phone, no sound, no nothing (helps if your binging urge feels overwhelming)

`` if you havent already, try drinking coffee. it really is called an appetite supressant for a reason

`` i wasnt the one who told you that, but you can look up some gross stuff involving food.. f*eeding k*ink usually freaks me out on multiple levels for long enough to forget about food

`` test yourself and allow yourself to feel bored. put down your phone. watch a really long flm. boredom is a part of our lives, and if you teach yourself to feel it in such small portions without binging youll be so so proud of yourself

Thinspos i have^

[comradepigeon]

popping the biggest bottle of kedem sparkling blush grape juice when i hit a year away from my ex and can start posting my writing without being too afraid of him finding me

[capellilavita-blog]

TOAST MOTHER’S DAY WITH A BOTTLE OF BRUCE JACK BUMBLE BEE MOSCATO AND CELEBRATE WITH JOY AND BUBBLES!

Bruce Jack Wines invite you to celebrate Mother’s Day on the 12th of May in sparkling style. We also happen to celebrate World Moscato Day (9thMay) and World Bee Day (20th May) this month, so Bruce Jack Bumble Bee Moscato is the perfect choice for any celebration.

Indulge in the exquisite flavours of Bruce Jack Bumble Bee Moscato. Savour its delightful floral aroma, lively bubbles, and harmonious blend of ripe peaches, tangy tangerine, and sweet honey, perfectly complemented by a refreshing acidity. Allow its lingering finish to captivate your palate, making each sip a memorable experience.

Serve well chilled! Not only is it a delicious sipper on its own, it is also fabulously food-friendly. A versatile companion to a wide range of dishes, from oysters, mussels and grilled fish to spicy Asian cuisine. It is also a perfect partner to creamy desserts.

So, top up your glass with Bruce Jack Bumble Bee Moscato and fill your day with love, laughter, sunshine and joy!

This refreshing low alcohol sparkling wine made from Muscat d’Alexandrie grapes (also known as Hanepoot in South Africa), is the perfect drink for an easy going get together. Light, refreshing, bubbly and fun, Bruce Jack Bumble Bee is charmingly drinkable and very easy to love.

It delights the senses while also honouring the environment. The choice of the bumblebee as this Moscato’s namesake highlights Bruce Jack’s commitment to biodiversity and the essential role of bees in the ecosystem.

For a special treat, whip up your own cocktail with a touch of grenadine, a sprig of fresh thyme, and garnish with sliced strawberries. Or opt for a simpler option with fresh orange juice topped with a slice

of orange. Either way, you'll enjoy deliciously refreshing drinks.

Purchase Bruce Jack Bumble Bee Moscato

Pop into your local Spar or Tops at Spar

Or buy online for R90 at https://brucejack.com/product/bruce-jack-bumble-bee/

More about Bruce Jack Lifestyle Bumble Bee Moscato

The Bumble Bee Moscato (100% Muscat d’Alexandrie) is sourced entirely from the Breedekloof Valley where the vineyards benefit from morning mountain shade and a moderate amount of rainfall, producing fresh fruit quality and bright acidity.

Bruce Jack Bumble Bee Moscato is not just a wine; it’s a celebration in a bottle. It is a testament to the expertise and passion that chief winemaker Bruce Jack pours into every bottle. Bruce Jack Wines consistently receive praise for their quality and innovation, including the Bumble Bee Moscato - a recipient of a Gold medal at the Michelangelo Wine and Spirits Awards.

#BruceJackWines #EnJOYable #ChooseJOY #JOYisaJourney

@brucejackwines @posyhazell

[wishful-seeker]

I really like welches sparkling grape juice, but those bottles are NOTORIOUSLY hard to open. You gotta peel the gold foil off of them and for some reason the twist cap is really hard to break open at first. Sometimes i have to pry the cap off the ring its attached to with a knife because twisting it open just doesn't break it.

Lately, right before my first attempt to open one, i say "please open quickly and easily." , i twist, and it pops right open with ease. I then say "thank you, i love you!" And enjoy my drink.

It works everytime.

Can I ask what you mean by "spirit =/= consciousness?"

Fiiiiiiiiine.

In my effort to make less effort I may have neglected to mention that the context here is animism. Which, as you probably know, is not a monolith. There are various beliefs labeled "animistic" and they differ on some points, so keep that in mind.

A lot of people take "spirit" to mean "consciousness" which is not necessarily the case. But again, animism is a broad label, so it's not necessarily not the case, either. Of course, defining consciousness is a whole other can of worms, but let's try not to get too hung up on that.

Basically, you can recognize the personhood of a non-human entity without anthropomorphizing it. You can interact with and learn from a spirit without assuming it is experiencing the world in the same way you do.

[doebt]

Hell yes i only spent like 20bucks and i got a big gift basket for pam and small gift baskets for everyone else...its called being a financial genius.

[cherisoo]

happy new year 🥂🍾✨💫🌙

[babyjamiebarnes]

Build-A-Bear

Part Eight

Featuring: Bucky x Stark!reader, Steve, Sam, OC Monique, Tony

Warnings: language, implied smut, talk of pregnancy/children, pregnancy scare

Chapter Summary: Sam finds out about Reader and Bucky’s secret. Reader has a scare that helps Reader and Bucky have a very important conversation.

Author’s Note: This was originally going to be longer but in light of recent events in America, I decided to postpone a violent scene (so warning for the next part: violence). It’s kinda short and I’m so sorry but I wanted to give you something. As always, feel free to buy me a coffee!

Tags: @amourmarvel @fangirlvoice @kennedywxlsh @devilswaldorf @what-the-hap-is-fuckning @alyispunk @fredweasleysbitchh @wearegroot @sunflowerbebe107 @prestigious-tea

(Part One) (Part Two) (Part Three) (Part Four) (Part Five) (Part Six) (Part Seven)

Despite his frustration with finding out he was breaking way more than just company protocol, Bucky’s attitude simmered and eventually fizzled out as the day went on. You’d bet seeing you uncomfortably directing security where to put your lab equipment while Bucky’s cum stuck to the inside of your thighs had an impact on his mood.

The rest of the day went by surprisingly well, all things considered. You took the day to set up your at-home lab while Steve got groceries and cooked, Sam installed security cameras in all the common areas, and Bucky searched your place for any bugs or wires. No one was weird about things, aside from Bucky when you first arrived. Sam was his usual goofy self and Steve was a dad stereotype.

That night, however, Steve sat everyone down in your living room for a little chat. Steve and Sam sat on the sofa across from you and Bucky, almost like they were concerned parents talking to you before sending you to prom.

“Okay, time to address the elephant in the room. Who knew about who you are before it was leaked?” Steve asked, elbows propped on his knees and that signature crease between his brows.

“Other than dad, Pepper, Rhodey, and Happy, just Monique,” you shrugged. “But it wasn’t her. She has nothing to gain from telling anyone.”

“Well, unfortunately we’ll have to look into her anyway,” Steve sighed. “But if it’s not her, it won’t be a problem. And you’re sure there’s no one else?”

“What about that boyfriend of yours?” Sam asked.

“It’s not him,” you said meekly. “I never told him.”

“Are you sure he couldn’t have found out?” Sam pressed.

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

Sam nodded but added, “We should still talk to the guy —”

“I didn’t know,” Bucky interrupted from beside you.

Sam looked confused, but Steve next to him was smirking, clearly trying to hold back a laugh.

“What?” Sam asked.

Bucky leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, his stance wide and fingers intertwined in the middle. If the situation wasn’t so serious, you’d be even more turned on.

“I didn’t know,” he repeated with a forced, tight-lipped smile. “I found out this morning and I was just as shocked as you were.”

“I said I was sorry!” you groaned, tossing your arms in the air in exasperation.

Bucky leaned back to wrap an arm around your shoulders and pull you into his side. When he slid his arm over your neck, you instinctively gripped his forearm but the giggle you let out showed you weren’t trying to pry him off you.

While you wiggled in Bucky’s grasp to get comfortable, Sam’s eyes darted between the two of you in a mix of shock and curiosity.

“Man, how the hell did you get a girl like that?!”

Steve finally let his laugh out at this. Bucky just tightened his arm around your throat, making you moan quietly, just barely loud enough for him to hear.

“Trust me, she’s a pain in the ass,” Bucky teased. You giggled again and squirmed out of his grasp to straddle his legs, now that everyone in the room knew your secret.

“You can always be a pain in my ass,” you smirked as you draped your arms over his shoulders and scooted forward so your pelvis was pressed against him. He groaned in frustration and tossed his head back, gripping your ass cheeks in an attempt to ground himself.

“You better watch your mouth before I fuck you right here, right now, princess,” he practically growled. You bit your lip to tease him just a little bit more. He had only called you ‘princess’ twice but it was definitely doing something for you.

“I hate to be a buzzkill,” Sam started, “but her dad would skin you alive if he heard you saying that.”

“And then filet what’s left if he saw this,” Steve added.

“Bucky’d probably taste pretty good though,” Sam shrugged. “Especially if we got to the thighs.”

“Yeah, I’d go for the thighs,” Steve agreed, making Bucky roll his eyes.

“I’d go for something else,” you piped in.

“Okay, let’s end this before it gets out of hand,” Steve said. You frowned but plopped back onto the couch next to Bucky instead of on top of him.

The rest of the night was spent mapping out who knew about you, who might’ve figured it out, and what any of those people would’ve gotten out of leaking your secret. You adamantly ruled Monique out; she didn’t need the money or the attention and already knew the type of stress your secret put on you. And her concerned texts begging you to believe it wasn’t her and vowing to castrate whoever told the media helped support your case. Unfortunately, it led to a lot of dead ends. You knew it couldn’t have been Happy, Rhodey, or Pepper, but that left literally no one as a suspect.

Halfway across town, your dad, Rhodey, Happy, Pepper, and Bruce were going over their own documents and information to get to the bottom of it. None of the news stations were willing to divulge their source, claiming it was “anonymous” so they didn’t know who said it, but Tony wasn’t convinced. He was worried about you, but he also knew your temporary roommates were solid protection for you.

He just didn’t know the additional protection you’d need with one of those roommates.

•

Bucky was always great about your period. It usually only lasted a few days because of your birth control and was on the light side, but he had no issue with laying down one of his “safety towels” before laying you down during those three days. He even set reminders in his phone so he knew to be prepared. So when his reminder popped up on what was usually your final day, he walked in with a towel while you lounged in bed, but he was confused at your own confusion.

“Why do you have a towel?” you laughed.

“Babe,” he whined. It amused you to no end when the big bad Winter Soldier whined at you. “I’m horny.”

You laughed again as he tossed the towel onto the bed beside you and settled his weight between your legs.

“Okay? Why does that involve a towel?”

Bucky furrowed his eyebrows at you.

“Aren’t you on your period?”

It only took one second for the realization to make your breath catch in your throat. It took one more second for Bucky’s entire body to grow tense.

“You’re on your period, right?” he asked. The urgency in his voice did nothing but stress you out more. You pulled your body out from under his and ran into your bathroom, rummaging through the drawers looking for an old test you were sure you had lying around somewhere. You had personally only ever taken one as a joke, but you knew Britt had panicked and taken more than a couple at your place before she got married.

“[Y/N].” Bucky’s voice behind you as you crouched on your bathroom floor made you pause your searching. “Talk to me,” he pressed.

You didn’t look at him as you spoke.

“I’m late.”

He let out a huff behind you but quickly crouched beside you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders because if he thought he was scared, he couldn’t imagine what you were feeling.

“Okay. We’ll go pick up a test and cross our fingers in the meantime,” he said quietly.

“How are we supposed to get a pregnancy test, James? Everyone knows who I am now,” you snapped.

You hated how easily you could tear up because you didn’t want to cry over your situation, but the stress hit you too quickly for any other reaction to kick in first.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you muttered quickly, pawing at your face to wipe away stray tears. “I’ll call Monique and have her pick one up.”

“Okay.” Bucky was treading lightly, you could tell. “Do you want to be alone or do you want me to stay with you?”

You bit your lip and took a deep, shaky breath to push more tears back.

“I think I want you to stay.”

Bucky let you sit between his legs while you called Monique.

“Hey, what’s up?” she answered almost immediately.

“I need you to come over,” you said, trying and failing to cover the panic in your voice.

“What’s going on? Are you okay?” You could hear rustling in the background and knew she was already sliding on shoes to rush over.

“I kind of need you to pick something up for me.”

“Anything.”

“Um… I need you to grab a pregnancy test.”

“A preg—” she paused. “A… okay, yeah, I’ll pick that up and swing by soon.”

“Thanks, Momo,” you replied quietly, tossing out the nickname you gave her after you two rewatched Avatar: The Last Airbender a couple years prior.

“See you soon, love you,” she said as you heard the slam of her door.

“Love you.”

True to her word, Monique knocked on your front door less than 20 minutes later. Since Steve and Sam practically interrogated her just a couple days before, they didn’t hesitate to let her in. She proved she wasn’t one to just let them toss around unsubstantiated accusations.

“Hey booboo,” she cooed as she stepped into your room. “I grabbed three different brands just to be safe and threw in a bottle of sparkling grape juice and a bottle of champagne, depending on what results we get.”

You couldn’t help but finally laugh at the cross between a cringe and a smile on her face. You practically lunged off the bed to give her a hug. She held you a second longer than usual and started leading you to your bathroom. When Bucky started to follow, she turned sharply.

“Uh-uh. You stay put. You’re the whole reason this is happening.”

“Monique, it takes two,” you chuckled behind her.

“And he’s the one who ejaculated in you.” You scoffed and grabbed her arm to tug her into the bathroom with you.

“We’ll be out in a few minutes.”

Bucky loved seeing how easily your best friend could immediately lift your spirits, but hated being sequestered in the bedroom.

The minutes ticked by even slower for you. Monique tried to keep you occupied as your phone and her phone counted down until the results would appear. One only took three minutes but the other two took five, so you anxiously stared at the three-minute test lying face-down on the sink until Monique’s phone beeped.

You breathed out an early sigh of relief at the test that read “NOT PREGNANT.”

“Two more,” Monique reminded you.

Those last two minutes felt even longer than the first three. But once your phone dinged, you and Monique each grabbed one of the two remaining tests. Judging by Monique’s squeal, you had the same results. You peeked over just to make sure and barreled through the bathroom door, startling Bucky as he sat on the edge of the bed.

“Not pregnant!” you screamed in excitement.

You ran and tackled him, sending him onto his back on the bed.

“Do I need to remind you two what caused this in the first place?” Monique laughed behind you two.

All of your heads turned when your bedroom door swung open to reveal both Steve and Sam looking even more concerned than usual.

“Did you just say what I think you said?!” Steve asked.

“What do you think I said?” you asked, sitting up onto Bucky’s lap.

“We heard ‘I’m pregnant’!” Sam shouted.

“Not pregnant!” you clarified and held up the test you were still gripping. “No babies yet.”

“Yet?” Bucky parroted.

“Uh… yeah…?” you replied hesitantly.

It was something that seemed so far into the future for you two that you never discussed it, but you did want a kid or two someday. And judging by the scare you just had, it was something you should probably discuss soon, just in case.

But Bucky’s reaction pretty much answered your unspoken question. He moved a hand to the back of your neck and pulled you down for a forceful, heated kiss. He easily slid his tongue into your mouth and squeezed your ass — until Monique cleared her throat.

“You should probably use these next time,” she said as she tossed a box of condoms at you.

Bucky pulled away quick enough to catch the box before it hit you, but the rest of the room still laughed at your expense.

“You really like giving Stark a reason to kill you, don’t you?” Sam asked Bucky, who groaned out loud and collapsed back on the bed.

“I didn’t know!”

•

That night as you and Bucky were lying in bed — just a couple hours after your period finally started — you forced your nerves away and asked the big question.

“Hey, what were you feeling today? Before I took the tests, I mean.”

Bucky continued to stroke your arm, unfazed by the topic.

“Initially, fear. And then the more time passed, the more that fear turned into... excitement, I guess? I mean, I always wanted kids back in the day, but now I’m kind of worried, you know?”

“Why?” you prodded, propping yourself up on Bucky’s chest so you could look directly at him. He propped his head up with his hand to look back at you.

“Do I need to remind you that I was the deadliest assassin in the world 10 years ago?” he smirked.

“Well yeah, but not anymore!” you smiled back. “You’re my Bucky Bear now.”

“Mm, keep saying cute shit like that and I’ll actually get you pregnant next time.”

You giggled at this but shook your head.

“Monique got us condoms for a reason.”

“Do you want to use one now?” Bucky smirked.

“I gotta be totally honest,” you started slowly. You felt weird saying this but, “I don’t think I want to use them at all.” That cute little wrinkle popped up between Bucky’s eyebrows as he silently questioned your answer. “I just… I like feeling you.”

You swung a leg over his body to straddle him and pressed your body to his. Your lips attached to his neck before trailing up to his ear.

“I’m not against them if you want to use them,” you said softly. “But you should make that decision soon.”

He made up his mind real quick.

[mamavanheat]

I’m begging for a soft outdoorsy josh fic 🥺 like he takes you out to a big pretty field at sunset and lays down a blanket and you just lay together and talk and point out stars and listen to nature. Maybe he hums to you. SOFT ✨🌿

whew bestie, *cracks knuckles and positions hands over keyboard* let’s do this

“C’mon babe! We’re gonna miss the sunset!” You yell back toward Josh as the two of you make your way through the small hills to a clear field of flowers. You and Josh were thinking of new date ideas when he suggested a visit to a field he and the boys played in as kids. He had stopped to grab a small bundle of wildflowers to tuck into your hair. You had a blanket draped over your shoulder and a bottle of sparkling grape juice in your hands. Taking a peak back at him, you can’t help but smile as he has his camera out and filming the adventure.

After a few times of stopping at what seemed to be the perfect spot, you finally picked a pretty little patch of grass at the top of a hill looking over to the very distant mountains. The sun begins to make it’s way faster down as you situate the blanket just right. He pops open the bottle of juice and offers you the first sip. You smile and take a sip. Handing the bottle back to him, the sky shifts into colors or deep gold and reds. The clouds spread into patches across picked up pinks and purples. He pulls up his camera to film the sun shifting into slumber.

“Wow, Mother Earth is really showing out tonight. Just for us, mama.” You look his direction only to see his eyes wide with excitement like a child seeing fireworks for the first time. You can’t help but to giggle in response. He shifts his camera back and forth between the view and you, being sure to catch the beauty of it all.

Quickly the stars became visible and the moon shone down to light the distant scenery. Josh lays down and you follow. He starts to point out all the constellations he can remember along with their stories. He reaches for your hand and shifts his gaze to you. You shift your face to his as he smiles in return. He leans in for a kiss. It felt like it lasted forever. He didn’t want to let go, but you can’t blame him because you felt the same. He starts to hum a light tune and pulls you closer. “You’re so beautiful. Thank you for being here with me. I love you.” He’s so sweet. So kind.

“Thank you for taking me here with you. I love you too, dear.” You can’t help but grin back at him. He makes you happier than you’ve ever thought you could be. Both of you lay there listening to the soft sounds of the wind and wildlife as the night lives on.

[roanniom]

hi pal can I request the reader showing sackler how to take things a little more slow and sensual in the bedroom (possibly ft some sub!sackler bc yum) dialogue line: 'easy tiger'

Hey buddy, yes – let’s teach our cutie sub!Sackler a lesson. (p.s., sorry to you and everyone else who requested stuff - I’m getting around to all of these, I swear lol)

Sweet

Adam Sackler x Reader

Word Count: 4,291

Warnings: NSFW, dirty talk, mutual masturbation, PIV sex, light light light dom/sub, mentions of food, shitty day angst

You love riding Sackler. It’s a fact and you aren’t shy about it. The way he feels beneath you – hard and wound out so tight, just a second from breaking – makes you feel like a goddess. You love messing with him and bossing him around, too. The way his eyes widen and his lip quivers as he thinks up a taunting reply or considers the reward that might come if he is good and acquiesces instead. You love rewarding and punishing him equally.

Sackler takes punishment better than any man you’d ever been with. While most men play along for a while, it’s been your experience that many tire eventually. Not Sackler. Sure, he’s a brat about it, but that’s exactly what you love. How receptive he is. No matter what you do, your Sackler reacts and it makes your heart and pussy clench in equal measure.

But every once in a while, riding Sackler isn’t what you’re in the mood for. Today is one of those days. It’s been a long one, full of meetings and paperwork and all the things that make your teeth set on edge by the time you climb up from the subway, up from the street, and up to your fifth floor walkup. When you reach the knob to open the door, it turns in your hand and moves inward without any effort on your part. The door pulls back to reveal Adam, standing with a huge grin on his face and a steaming mug which is promptly pushed into your free hand.

“Fucking finally! I’ve been waiting for you to get home.” A kiss is pressed hurriedly to your lips and your bags are pulled off of your shoulders. The whirlwind of motion and activity almost make you dizzy and you laugh. Despite your shit day and despite yourself.

“What’s all this?” you ask, gesturing the scene that his wall of a body, now moved aside to stow your bags, has revealed. The table is set for two, with flowers and a fucking lit candle in the center. Two stemmed glasses sit beside a sweating bottle of sparkling grape juice. Adam steps back into view, his grin even wider.

“Ray and I were fucking around at the café and I came across this recipe in a magazine -” he begins, but you cut him off.

“I can’t picture you flipping through a magazine.” He flips you off and continues.

“Well anyway, Ray said it was too delicate and I’d never be able to make it because I’m a fucking ox in a china shop and I was like the saying is ‘bull in a china shop you dickweed’ and then we wrestled a bit and scared his customers away which was pretty fucking hilarious -”

You grab Sackler’s chin to stop his manic rambling.

“The food, Sackler.”

“Well I was getting to that! So I said fuck you, ripped the recipe out, went to the store, and now nine hours and three cut fingers later we have this fucking feast!”

Sackler claps his hands together before gesturing grandly to the table. With the gesticulation you’re able to see the three aforementioned fingers swathed in shoddily placed bandages. You grab his non-damaged hand and lift up on your tiptoes. He gets the message, bending down to press his lips to yours again. He closes his eyes to savor the kiss, but as you back away yours dart over his figure and you let out another laugh.

“Sackler, is that my apron?”

~*~

It turns out bulls in china shops can, indeed, cook delicate dishes. The food is really good. Annoyingly good. Proving again, for the umpteenth time, that your tornado of a boyfriend can be good at things when he focuses all of his boundless energy on one thing.

“You shouldn’t have done this, you know.” You smile at him over the rim of your glass of sparkling juice, the remains of your meal littering the table before you. Sackler watches you, full and self-satisfied, shaking his head.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m never going to accept a shitty takeout meal again now that you’ve fed me this well.”

Sackler sits up straighter and leans over, reaching his hand between your thighs. Your legs open instinctively, without any effort from your brain, but as you lurch forward and metal scrapes against wood, you realize he’s grabbed your chair and is pulling you closer to him.

“It was really that good, wasn’t it.” His smile is ear to ear. You laugh at his smugness.

“Do I need to lick my plate to convince you? Because I will.” You drag a finger through the last bit of sauce on your plate and move to bring it to your mouth. Before you can, however, Adam grabs your wrist and reroutes it to his mouth. His lips close over your finger, tongue lapping up the sauce before it can drip down into your palm. He maintains direct, blazing eye contact the entire time and your stomach swoops. After a moment a sucking, Adam releases your finger with a pop, biting the tip playfully before dropping your hand back to your lap.

“Fuck I’m talented.”

The chuckle you release is a tad too breathless for your liking. It really has been a hard day, and Adam’s attention is getting to you quicker and more than usual. He can see it in your eyes and in the incremental quickening of the rise and fall of your chest.

“Yep. You’re fucking talented,” is all you’re able to muster, biting your lip.

The large hand that had pulled you closer to him has spent this whole time gripping your chair in the space between your legs. Now it slides to smooth over your thigh. His hand is hot enough you can feel the heat radiating beneath your pants. Despite the warmth you shiver.

Adam notices and pulls back his hand so that only his index finger remains in contact with your leg. His index finger which he drags up your inner thigh only to run it up and down the line of the pants seam at the apex of your thighs.

“A little needy tonight, are we babe?”

This is exactly what you need to loosen up so you grab his wrist. He stiffens immediately, assuming he’s done something wrong. But instead you pull him closer to close his whole hand around your clothed cunt, pushing up and down on his hand to provide a wider surface area of warmth and friction.

“A lot needy tonight…babe,” you correct him.

~*~

When you migrate to the bedroom, Sackler is on you like an animal. This is his usual modus operandi – he does everything he possibly can to trigger your reprimands, your slaps, your warnings. It’s partly to see what he can get away with before you tighten the leash (metaphorical but sometimes literal) and partly because seeing you riled up turns him on so much.

Right now he’s got you bent over the bed, cheek smashed to the mattress, legs spread, ass out, as he grips and pinches and squeezes the curves of your body.

“I’ve been thinking of you all fuuuhhking day, baby.” His voice is gruff to go along with the handfuls he grabs of your ass.

“I thought you were thinking about food all day,” you manage to tease, despite the fact that his hands feel like heaven.

“Yeah but like when I went shopping for example.” He flips you over then and you squeal in surprise. Your back hits the bed but your legs remain dangling off. Adam steps between them and drops the weight of his whole upper body on you, effectively smothering you. “I just kept wishing you were there with me.”

Your stomach flips and your heart flutters, not expecting that sweet a statement. You also register your cunt getting wetter.

Oh.

So that’s the mood you’re in.

“You wished I was there?” you ask quietly.

“Of course,” Adam replies, tucking some of your hair gently behind your ear. “I imagined fucking you up against the inside of the freezer section so we could leave obscene handprints on the doors and freak people out.”

You whack him in the head in response, which is exactly what he’s going for. He picks you up and throws you unceremoniously more fully on the bed before climbing on as well and crawling up the length of your body.

“You’re an asshole, Adam.”

“I thought that was your favorite part about me.” He waggles his eyebrows at you. Out of spite – and lust – you reach between you and grab his dick through his jeans.

“No, this is my favorite part about you.”

Adam throws his body to the side, locking his arms around you in a roll that roughly brings you to rest on his chest while his back hits the bed.

“Now you’re talking, baby.” His mouth latches hungrily to your neck and his hands take forceful hold of your breasts. Beneath you Sackler begins rolling his hips, thrusting his hardening cock up into your pelvic area.

The aggression and the friction feel good, you can’t lie. But you can’t ignore the nagging feeling of disappointment lingering right at the corner of your mind.

“Adam,” you prompt. He doesn’t pause in his ministrations. He’s still playing the game. At this point you’re usually just getting started and, being the brat he is, he never actually listens to you this early. It would ruin his fun. No, instead Adam continues to nibble at your collar bone and untuck your shirt.

“Adam – slow down, please.”

The please comes out muffled because it occurs right as he tries to pull your shirt over your head, effectively covering your face.

“Are you trying to say something?” Adam asks with a chuckle, purposefully keeping the shirt tangled up in your arms and swathed over your head. “I can’t hear you.”

You wrestle your way out of his grip and the shirt straight jacket he’d fashioned, irritated but unable to suppress your own laugh.

“That’s not funny, asshole.”

“Again with the asshole.” Adam rises up to a sitting position with you still straddling him, moving to place soft kisses on your now-exposed chest. “Might I point out that you are laughing. I would argue that means it is funny.”

Adam deftly unhooks your bra and continues to drop open mouth kisses on a path that leads him up your throat. His softer actions cause you to roll your hips lightly, your eyes closing with the mounting satisfaction.

“Mmm haven’t I already taught you that you shouldn’t argue with me? You’ll never win,” you reply quietly, tone of voice matching the softness and heat that’s building between your bodies.

In quite a juxtaposition, Sackler growls and bucks roughly up into you, a motion you’re not prepared for and one which throws you off balance.

“We’ll see who wins, baby.” His mouth descends on you and it’s like he’s trying to suck your very soul between his lips. Like he wants to swallow you whole and usually? Usually this kind of thing would rev your engine and make you want to fight for control. But today your body is craving something different.

And you’re not about to deny it what it wants.

You press your palms down on Sackler’s chest, pushing down and pulling back with enough pressure that he finally releases your lips. His chest heaves up and down and he moves to kiss you elsewhere but you grab his jaw.

“Easy tiger. Easy.” Your fingers curl down and around his throat delicately. You’re not squeezing and you’re not gripping, but his eyes are wide and fixed on you. You hold him down with your gaze as much as your hand and, without breaking eye contact, you lower yourself slowly, slowly, slowly, to press a kiss to his flushed lips.

“We’re going to take things slower tonight.”

“Slower? But why!” Sackler moves to sit up again, but you push him back down, this time more firmly.

“Because I say so,” you answer bluntly. Sackler goes to talk back, defiance dancing in his eyes, but you speak up before he can interject.

“Because I need this.”

Your assertive tone comes out less firm and more genuine this time, allowing some of your vulnerability leak through despite your intentions. You watch Adam react, however, and you’re pleased to see his eyes soften.

“What do you want me to do, baby? Tell me.”

You mull this over from your perch above him, straddling his hips and looking down at his still clothed body. Swinging your leg up and over, you dismount him, much to Adam’s displeasure, as expressed with a groan. You, however, stand resolutely at the side of the bed and fold your arms.

“I’d like you to get up and take every piece of clothing off – slowly.”

“You mean like a strip tease?” he asks with a crooked grin, lumbering off the bed. You hop back on and settle down so that your back is now reclining against the pillows comfortably.

“You don’t have to make it sound so crass but sure. Like a strip tease.”

Adam takes a cheesy bow before pulling his shirt of by the back collar.

“Woah woah woah, I said slowly, mister.”

Adam huffs in agitation but does as you ask, dropping the collar and lifting the front hem of his shirt inch by inch, slowly exposing the abdominal muscles which, let’s face it, make you want to drool. You eye him like a piece of meat and without a trace of shame as he finally discards the garment.

“I hope you’re enjoying this,” he grumbles, but you see the amusement in his eyes.

“Oh I am, baby. Trust me.”

The show continues until his boxers ultimately join the pile that has accumulated at his feet. The slow clap you give him as you eye his stiff cock makes him let out a strained laugh.

“Now you,” he says through gritted teeth. You can tell he wants to stroke his cock, but you haven’t told him he can yet. And since you’ve changed the game on him, he feels less comfortable bending the rules.

“Can you come over and take my clothes off for me?” you ask through hooded eyes. He clambers onto the bed and you touch his shoulder as a reminder. “Slowly.”

Adam nods and reaches to unbutton your pants before pulling them slowly down your legs, hooking his fingers beneath your panties to bring them along, too. Having already been divested of your shirt and bra, the job is short and sweet.

You crook your finger in a come hither motion toward him, ushering him to move up to you, which he does. You settle deeper down into the pillows and he hovers above you, uncertain.

“What now?”

You pull him down by the back of the neck into a kiss. Your tongue encourages his to move, which it does. He takes his cues from you and the kiss morphs from sweet to sensual. When a strangled groan bubbles in the back of his throat you push him to sit up in order to bring things back down to the pace you’d worked so hard to establish.

“Now, I’d like you to drag two fingers through my cunt. Get them nice and wet.”

Adam inhales sharply and moves his arm quickly at first before catching himself and bringing his hand calmly between your legs. You let them fall open and sigh happily at the feeling of his fingers running up and down your dripping slit.

“You’re so wet and we’ve barely done anything,” Adam comments, awed.

“That’s how bad I want you like this.”

“Baby…” Adam practically whines. You can see his muscles tensing as his patience wears thinner.

“I know, honey,” you purr. “Now I want you to take your hand and stroke your big, fat cock for me.”

Adam inhales sharply again, but he doesn’t forget this time. This time his hand drags slowly from your cunt, trailing your slick over your thigh and up onto his in a path to his own cock, which he smears with the remaining juice.

“Oh fuck, I can’t take it slow for much longer.”

“Yes. You can.” You tease your own nipple now as you watch Adam’s hand close around the glistening, throbbing head. His muscles ripple beneath the skin of his abdomen and your cunt clenches.

“I saw that.”

Your wrench your eyes away from his cock to meet his eyes.

“Saw what?”

“Saw your little pussy squeeze around nothing.”

“Yes, it did.” You’re not about to deny it. Instead, you move the hand not playing with your nipple so that it comes to rest on your mound, fingers dipping down to feel your own wetness.

“Holy shit.”

His cock twitches in his hand and he comes to lean lower over you, bracing himself with one hand against the mattress next to your body as he picks up the pace on his cock. The shuck shuck shuck sound of his fist passing over his length makes your breath quicken and you push two fingers inside you, placing your thumb on your clit and beginning a rhythm of tight circles.

“Oh god, do you hear that?” Adam moans as your cunt begins making squelching sounds with your efforts. “That’s your little pussy telling me it needs me.”

“Mmm it talks to you?” you ask, trying not to think of how ridiculous this is and lose your concentration too much.

“Yes. It’s saying your fingers are two fucking small. It needs to be stuffed. With my fingers, with my cock -”

“Adam.” You interrupt him abruptly by grabbing the back of his neck and forcing him to look you in the eyes. He zips up and waits for you to say something but you don’t. Instead you maintain the eye contact and continue move your fingers in and out of your cunt. Though you won’t agree with him right now, Adam’s right. Your fingers are too small. But the in and out motion, combined with the pressure you are putting on your clit, combined with the way the bed shakes with the effort Adam is taking to jerk himself slowly but strongly, combined with the way he is now devouring you with his eyes – it all still feels pretty fucking good.

Adam’s breath becomes more ragged and the sound makes you let out an involuntary moan. Fuck you love hearing him react. You decide you might as well let him know. It’s already the tone of the evening.

“I love hearing you.”

“I was just about to say the fucking same about you. You’re the one who just moaned, though,” Adam says, letting out a breathless chuckle.

“Yeah but I like it all. I like when your breathing is all ragged like right now. I love it when you groan and growl. When you moan and it sounds like it’s coming from deep inside of you.”

“Fuck, baby,” he grunts, and you laugh.

“I like it when you curse, too. I love that filth spills from your brain and you don’t bother – oh! You don’t bother stopping it from falling out of your mouth.”

“You’re the inspiration for the filth, kid, I can’t take all the credit.”

You feel your heart stutter in your chest then and you drag your finger over your clit slower. Harder.

“I like it when you call me kid. You haven’t called me that in a while.”

“Oh fuck, I’m sorry, kid,” Adam’s face scrunches and you’re not sure if it’s out of guilt or because of the way his hand his now wringing his cock, twisting at the end of each stroke in a sad rendition of the technique you use when you jerk him off. “I didn’t know you liked it so much.”

“I do.”

“I’ll call you that more often.”

“Good.”

You both are breathing heavily now, a light layer of sweat covering skin that aches to be touched by the other. Your eyelids flutter and you try to keep your sight focused on Adam’s face. You’re feeling your inhibitions leave you as the pressure inside your core mounts, loosened up by the warmth of his breath on your cheeks and the way you’re speaking so openly to him. You decide you might as well continue.

“I also like it when you’re sweet to me.”

Adam falters at that, his hand coming to an abrupt stop on his cock. He blinks down at you.

“I am sweet to you.”

His voice sounds hurt and you bristle, wanting to take the words back.

“You are sweet to me. You are, Adam,” you reassure, grasping his arm. He remains still, watching you. You feel weird continuing to finger yourself, but your so close you are afraid to lose your momentum. “You’re always everything I want. And most times I want to be thrown around and I want to yell and stuff. It’s just sometimes…”

You trail off, but you don’t need to continue because Adam is kissing you. A slow, deep kiss. Lips moving against lips, tongue moving against tongue. His hands find your face and hold you softly, keeping you against him, leaving his cock to bob freely against your stomach. Your fingers abandon your cunt as well and you wrap around Adam, arms and legs both, pulling him down into you.

When Adam finally pulls back, his face no longer looks hurt.

“I can be whatever you want. Let me be what you want.” He kisses your forehead, then the tip of your nose, then the curve of your jaw.

“I want you inside of me,” you finally admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

When he slides in, you don’t have to remind him to go slow. You moan about your walls stretching and he moans about the way you squeeze so tightly around his cock. Your sounds spur each other on and you rock against him, urging him to move.

He pulls out so far that only the tip remains nestled just inside your entrance. When he pushes back in, it feels like he’s pushing in for the first time of the night again. Your walls stretch to accommodate him and you clench instinctively around his length. The process repeats itself, over, and over, until you’re pretty much completely unraveled beneath him.

All the while Adam rains soft kisses on your face, neck, and breasts. Without a chaotic rhythm of thrusts to keep up with, he has the attention span to shower you with even more affection. The hoarse whispers in your ear are by far your favorite:

“You’re so fucking beautiful.”

“You feel so good, you take me so well it doesn’t make fucking sense.”

“Fuck, did you feel that? How tight you’re gripping my cock baby?”

“That’s it, yes make those fucking gorgeous sounds for me.”

It’s not exactly textbook “sweet,” but it’s Adam and it’s what you need. It’s Adam giving you what you need.

You reach down at some point to rub your clit, working yourself up to the edge, but Adam pulls your hand away so his can replace it.

“Not on my fucking watch,” he mutters gruffly. A laugh bubbles in your throat but it bursts into a moan as the dam breaks and you fall apart, crying out his name over and over in the process.

“Yes, baby, yes. Ride it out – fuck you’re hot when you cum.”

You fight to catch your breath and you gaze back up at Adam through the stars in your eyes. The resulting effect makes him both blurry and sparkly in your vision and your muscles continue to contract around his massive cock, which he’s been kind enough to keep stuffed inside you for you to lock onto.

As your muscles begin to relax you blink away the stars and allow a smile of the deepest, most well-fucked satisfaction to slide across your face. Adam watches and his smile matches, though there is still some tightness in his features due to the fact that he is still achingly hard.

“Adam, that was…” you try to catch your breath. “That was…thanks. I needed that.”

When Adam meets your lips for a kiss, however, you yank tightly on the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Now I want you to take what you need,” you say louder. “I want you to cum.”

With your permission, Adam doesn’t need more than a second to switch gears. He lifts your legs straight into the air against his shoulders, bending you into a right angle that becomes more and more acute with each passing second. His cock pounds in and out of your dripping pussy, your slick sliding between your thighs and making the fucking smooth and wet and oh so fucking good for him.

“I still like being sweet to you,” he says through gritted teeth, his thrusting becoming more erratic.

“I know you do, baby,” you hiccup out.

“But fuck! Do I love pounding this pussy.”

You laugh and he cums. All over you. He pulls out, dropping your legs down, and it spurts hot over your stomach and tits. It’s messy but he’s satisfied and you’re satisfied and fuck it, that’s what towels are for.

Once he’s gotten you nice and wiped up again, Adam pulls you to him in the bed, wrapping his arms around you tightly and giving you no room to move away. Not that you’d want to move. Why would you when you can lay here in this bed, tangled up in the man that wrung pleasure from your body and laughter from your lips.

~*~

Tagging some lovely people (please let me know if you’d like to be tagged or untagged in future work!): @mariesackler @direnightshade @safarigirlsp @sacklerscumrag @paper-in-ashes-fanfiction @historyandfandoms50 @clydesfavoritegirl @wayward-rose @hopeamarsu @thegreenmatt @barbers-glimmerin-darlin @finn-ray-nal-beads @fizzywoohoo @maybe-your-left @aliveandlonely 

[merrybrides]

Best Non-Alcoholic Champagne and Sparkling Wines

Celebrations call for bubbles, that's just a fact. But bubbles don't necessarily have to mean booze in our books. There just so happen to be plenty of wonderful non-alcoholic champagne options, as well as alcohol-free sparkling wine for whenever you want to pop bottles without a hangover. Trust us, teetotalers will love these bottles of non-alcoholic champagne and sparkling wine.

St Regis Sparkling Brut (Non Alcoholic Wine)

This dry, medium-bodied sparkler features fresh floral, fruity, and mineral notes.

St Regis Sparkling Brut (Non Alcoholic Wine)

Chateau De Fleur Non-alcoholic Sparkling Wine

Made in California by Weibel Vineyards, this "champagnette" bottle has refreshing flavors of apple and peach.

Chateau De Fleur Non-alcoholic Sparkling Wine

Sutter Home Fre Brut Non-alcoholic Champagne Wine

A bright and lively option, Sutter Home's non-alcoholic Fre has aromas of green apples and ripe pears along with flavors of apple and strawberry.

Sutter Home Fre Brut Non-alcoholic Champagne Wine

Señorío de la Tautila Espumoso Rosado Non-Alcoholic Sparkling Rose Wine

The winemaker recommends pairing this sparkling rosé, made in Spain using tempranillo grapes, with light soups, salads, cheeses, and pasta.

Señorío de la Tautila Espumoso Rosado Non-Alcoholic Sparkling Rose Wine

Noughty Alcohol-Free Sparkling Chardonnay

This organic vegan sparkler is made from 100% chardonnay that's been de-alcoholized, so you get all the flavor, without the buzz.

Noughty Alcohol-Free Sparkling Chardonnay

Pierre Chavin Perle Bleu Non-Alcoholic Sparkling Wine

With delicate blueberry aromas, this selection is a great pick for a baby or bridal shower. 

 Pierre Chavin Perle Bleu Non-Alcoholic Sparkling Wine

Surely Sparking Rosé

Rosé all day isn't just for those who consume alcohol. This alcohol-free sparkler is crafted by Sonoma winemakers for an authentic, summery flavor.

Surely Sparking Rosé

Zero Zero Deluxe Sparkling

Produced by Élivo winery in Spain using chardonnay grapes, this bottle equates to a semi-dry cava. The winemaker describes it as a "yellow, straw-colored wine" that's "clean and bright with a voluminous deployment of bubbles." Sounds delicious, no matter what the alcohol content is.

Zero Zero Deluxe Sparkling

Pierre Chavin Perle Rose Non-Alcoholic Sparkling Rose Wine

Produced in France, this alcohol-free sparkling rosé features notes of flowers and hints of roses.

Pierre Chavin Perle Rose Non-Alcoholic Sparkling Rose Wine

Martinelli's Sparkling Cider

While it's not exactly champagne, Martinelli's is a classic and is sure to be a crowd-pleaser.

Martinelli's Sparkling Apple Cider Juice

TÖST Non-Alcoholic Sparkling Beverage 

Available in an original white cranberry, white tea, and ginger blend as well as a a rosé version with elderberry, these sparkling beverages make a great solo sip, or even a mixer if you've got a mixed group of drinkers and non-imbibers.

TÖST Rosé

TÖST All-Natural

[shipskicksandgiggles]

Title: Fireworks

Pairing: Harley Keener x Peter Parker

Summary: Spending New Year's alone was perfectly fine with Peter. That changes when his best friend shows up at his door with a couple of glasses and a bottle of champagne

Warnings: none

AO3 link: x 

~~~

Peter was just considering popping open the bottle of sparkling grape juice his aunt bought him early when his phone rang. 

“Hello?”

“Peter!”

“What’s going on, Harles?”

Harley Keener, his best friend and partner in crime, was supposed to have something to do tonight. “I’m bored.”

“It’s New Years Eve. Don’t you have a party to go to?”

“I got out of it. What are you doing?”

Peter clicked his tongue as if he was thinking. “Well, I was about to flip the TV channel over to the countdown thing, and I’ve got a bottle of that shitty, non alcoholic grape juice shit I’m gonna open up here in a few minutes. Why do you ask?”

“You’re not doing anything special?”

“Well no? May is out with Happy and I honestly didn’t feel like dealing with the crowds. I did consider dressing up though, just to be dramatic.”

“You should. Why celebrate anything unless you’re having fun?”

It was a fair point. Peter got up and stretched before heading into his bedroom and putting Harley on speaker so he could rifle through his closet. “So why aren’t you at Mr. Stark’s party?” he asked. 

“I lived through one of those last year and I’d rather not do it again. It was fun, but too many people want me to be something that I’m not, and I don’t want to make small talk with people who don’t know me.”

He hummed as he buttoned up his shirt. “Which tie should I wear?”

“Wear the maroon one. Compliments everything about you.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere, darling.” He tied a simple Windsor knot with ease before looking around for a jacket. “Jacket?”

“None.”

“Interesting choice. None it is.” Peter made his way back into the living room, picking up the remote and changing the channel on the TV. 

There was still a solid 15 minutes before the ball dropped, so he walked into the kitchen and tried to find a champagne flute, listening to Harley complain about shitty bureaucrats all the while. 

“Wouldn’t it be nice to just have a normal News Years for once?” Harley asked.

“Normal like ‘get drunk with people our own age and make out with the person closest when the clock strikes midnight’ or like ‘in Times Square surrounded by asshole tourists?’”

“Wow, I always forget how different New York is. Our normal was watching either celebrating at a bar or bowling alley, or if you were younger, you’d have a movie night and watch the ball drop before passing out.”

“Sounds fun,” Peter laughed. “Definitely different.” He cursed quietly. 

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I just can’t find the champagne flutes.”

The doorbell rang. 

“The hell?”

“Was that the doorbell? You should probably get that.” He sounded like he was smiling. 

Peter rolled his eyes and went to the door. Sure enough, he opened it to Harley standing there, leaned against the doorframe, phone pressed against his ear, a bottle and champagne flutes in his hand. 

“So? Anyone important?” he said, still speaking into the phone. His smirk was so annoying.

“Ass. Get in here, moron.”

He grabbed his wrist and pulled him over the threshold. 

“I brought champagne flutes. And champagne.” Harley set both down on the kitchen counter. 

“We can’t have champagne. Underage drinking is illegal, remember?”

“Never said there was alcohol in it. Bruce helped me develop it. Tastes exactly the same with none of the shit that makes you tipsy.” 

Harley hung his coat by the door, and Peter noticed he was also wearing a suit. “You had this all planned out, huh?”

“Mostly. You not being about to find the glasses was just a lucky coincidence. Watch yourself.” He popped the cork off the bottle and poured a glass for both of them. “C’mon. I wanna watch the ball drop.”

Peter took one of the champagne flutes from his hand and leaned against the couch, watching Harley as he took the armchair. He took a tentative sip of the champagne.

The taste was… interesting. He coughed. “I don’t know why, but I was expecting it to taste more like soda. Ginger Ale maybe.”

Harley laughed and took a sip of his own. “It’s good. Sweet.”

He nodded, still unsure of how to describe it. Silence was fine too, he decided. 

The TV droned on between them. Some celebrity that would be obsolete next year was talking about New Year's Resolutions. 

“Do you have any?”

“Have any what?” Peter glanced in Harley’s direction and caught his breath at the sight of his suit rumpled, tie slightly loosened. 

He gestured to the TV screen. “Resolutions. Things you want to do better this year.”

Peter thought about it for a moment before responding. “Honestly? I don’t think so. Just to keep up with everything that made this year great and I’ll play it by ear. You?”

“Maybe start making an effort to adjust to the New York version of normal.”

“What, like the New Year’s shit I was talking about?”

“I mean I wouldn’t be opposed to the things you were talking about. A New Year’s kiss sounds great, but other stuff too. Tennessee was more, I don’t know. People were nosy, everyone knew everything about everybody else. Everyone here tries to mind their business and ignore the people around them. It’s strange, but I think if I put a little more effort into actually leaving the past in the past, it’ll get easier.”

Peter took another sip of the champagne, hoping Harley couldn’t hear the blood roaring in his ears. He didn’t know what to make of the comment about New Year’s. Honestly, it was probably nothing.

Neither one of them said anything for what felt like forever. More celebrities whose names he’d forgotten made appearances, talking about best moments of the year. 

Two minutes to midnight, Harley spoke up again. 

“You’re quiet tonight. Everything okay?”

“I’m fine. Just thinking,” Peter answered honestly.

“What about?”

“New Year’s.”

Harley’s eyebrow twitched up. “Why? You want me to kiss you at midnight?”

“You offering?”

Both of them froze. Peter had no idea what compelled him to say that, but fuck it. He couldn’t take it back now.

Harley didn’t say anything. Instead he got up and went to refill his glass, offering up the bottle to Peter, who took it graciously and did the same. He passed it back to Harley who replaced the cork and put the bottle away. He moved to sit back down, but hesitated at the last second.

“Come here.” He motioned for Peter to follow him and pulled him into his lap as he sat back down. “This okay?”

Peter didn’t trust himself enough to speak, but he managed to nod. 

“Okay.”

There was 30 seconds left on the clock. Peter had to make a conscious effort to breathe. 

Time seemed to pass slowly, dragging the seconds into hours. 

Harley started counting down. 

“Ten,” he whispered against his neck, making Peter shudder. 

“Nine, eight, seven, six-” 

Was Peter counting too? He wasn’t sure if he was actually speaking aloud. 

“Five, four, three, two-”

At the very least he was mouthing the words, the last semblance of control he had finally breaking through. 

“One.”

Harley clinked their glasses together. 

“Happy New Year.”

He made eye contact with him over the rim of his glass, letting the sweetness of the champagne calm his nerves. 

Peter lowered his glass slowly, still holding his gaze. Harley took it from him, setting it on the end table before winding his arms around Peter’s waist. 

Before he could second guess himself, Peter brought his arms up and around Harley’s neck. He was beautiful like this, eyes shining in the low light, mouth ever so slightly open, just… looking at him.

The kiss was sweet, reminiscent of the champagne they’d had. 

He could hear fireworks. He wasn’t sure if they were real or not.

[deanstop13billyjoeltraxx]

Superposition

a deancas college roommate AU :)

Chapter 12 is up on AO3! Chapter-by-chapter masterlist here. 

yes i updated twice this week my foot is broken i can’t do anything else

The Beginning (of the End)

Three Years Earlier

“You ready?”

Dean was standing by the door with a full backpack. Cas’s own was leaning against his closet. He was sitting at his computer, manically finishing a paragraph, only half-stalling.

“One second…” Cas trailed off as he ensured his document had saved properly. “Done. Yes,” he said. Dean rolled his eyes, but there was a small smile on his face.

Dean had just taken his last final that morning. It was nearly noon before they hit the road in the Impala, Dean’s twenty-minute tape-selection process doing nothing to hasten their departure. Eventually, he settled on Moving Pictures, and he pulled out of the parking lot with “Tom Sawyer” blaring through the speakers.

Cas learned many things on the two-and-a-half hour drive to Lawrence — that Dean knew every word to every song in his tape collection, and he was not afraid to demonstrate it; that Dean had driven through almost every town on I-35; and that he had a story for each. He learned that Dean could begrudgingly appreciate 80s pop when Cas flipped on the radio and allowed the entirety of “Heat of the Moment” to play, uninterrupted. He learned that Dean would often turn to sing his favorite lyric right at Cas, or to tell him music trivia, or just to give him a smile.

When they arrived at Bobby’s house in Lawrence, a gangly teen who Cas assumed to be Sam was waiting for them at the door. Dean had barely made it out of the car before Sam was running to him, pulling him into a hug. Dean was grumbling “I wasn’t gone that long,” but he was smiling and sniffling and hugging Sam just as hard. Cas hid his smile.

Sam introduced himself to Cas, all smiles and raw excitement. His openness was contagious. Sam insisted on hauling Cas’s backpack inside for him, to which Dean threw an apologetic look at Cas. Cas just grinned back at him.

Bobby Singer was gruff-voiced and stoic, but there were tears in his eyes as he gave Dean a quick hug. He shook Cas’s hand firmly and said it was real good to meet him, after everything he’s heard. Dean went beet-red when Cas cast him a glance.

Bobby brought beers and a coke for Sam. The four of them sat in Bobby’s living room, Dean and Cas replaying the semester’s highlights for a rapt audience. When Bobby left the room to order a pizza, he clapped Dean on the shoulder and said, in a low voice, “Real proud of you, kid.” Cas thought it might have been the happiest he’d ever seen Dean.

“Dean told me you’re a writer,” Sam said when it was just the three of them. “He said you were writing a book.”

Dean made an indignant sound. “I didn’t say that.”

“Yeah, you did,” Sam retorted. “You said he —”

“I said he was majoring in creative writing,” Dean interrupted, giving Sam a look.

“I am… working on something,” Cas said to Sam. “Although, I’m not quite sure it’s a book. I’ve never tried my hand at writing novels.”

“Dean says your stories are really good,” Sam said, and Dean shot him a death glare. Cas could barely contain his laughter. “What do you usually write?”

“Before this semester, I typically wrote about my own life,” Cas said, feeling slightly self-conscious. “But one of my classes challenged me to write about other things.”

“What’s your book about?” Sam asked.

“Can you contain your nerd for, like, ten minutes?” Dean grumbled. “Dude just got here, you don’t need to scare him off.”

Sam flipped him off, and Dean muttered, “Real mature.”

Cas was considering Sam’s question, trying to come up with an answer that was both vague and satisfying. “It’s about free will,” he said finally.

“Can I read it? When you’re done, I mean,” Sam said. “I love reading. I just finished Lord of the Rings last month.”

Cas smiled. “If I ever finish it, of course,” he said. “Lord of the Rings is a fantastic book series,” he added, and Sam’s face lit up.

Dean let out a long-suffering sigh when Sam started Cas on a conversation about Tolkien, and he excused himself to get another beer. When he returned, Bobby close behind him, he threw a pillow at Sam’s head, which led to Sam throwing it back, knocking Dean’s beer to the floor, and then it was war. Bobby shot Cas an eye-roll, which only made him laugh harder.

The rest of the week passed much the same. Castiel went to bed each night with sore cheeks from smiling. On Saturday, Sam roped him into pouring toothpaste into Dean’s shampoo bottle. The roar they heard from the shower that night had them nearly on the floor laughing. Dean got his revenge on Sam moments later, barreling out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel to give his brother a large, wet hug. Unbeknownst to Dean, his retaliation involved Cas as well; it took great effort to keep his eyes focused on anything but Dean’s bare midsection. 

Dean dragged him to all of his favorite spots in Lawrence, places he remembered from early childhood and past Christmases with Bobby. Watching Dean in his element, Cas gave up. Resistance was futile. Cas didn’t fall in love with Dean in Lawrence, but he stopped trying to open a parachute against it. And while that observably changed nothing, for Cas, it changed everything. He’d already lost the game — what was the point in denying himself the consolation prize?

He leaned into the ache that came with the brilliance of Dean’s smiles. He relished the knot in his stomach when Dean spoke to everyone, but looked at Cas like it was just for him. He stole glances. He hid smiles. Dean permeated his thoughts and invaded his dreams. It hurt like hell, sleeping alone on an air mattress, wanting nothing more than to be laying next to the man in the other room. But the highs were addicting, made greater by the pain that followed them. Though he’d been down this road before, hopelessly in love with someone who would never, could never love him back, Dean felt different. Dean felt all-consuming. 

Castiel had fallen, and he wasn’t sure if he would ever rise again. 

 Christmas with the Winchesters made every holiday celebration Cas had attended look boring. Ellen Harvelle and her daughter, Jo, arrived in the morning, each giving him a hug like they’d known him for years. The moment she walked in, Ellen was yelling at Dean to “get his ass in the kitchen.” He grabbed Cas by the arm and pulled him along.

Cas spent the rest of the day watching Dean and Ellen cook, helping when he could, then having a raucous meal on the floor of the living room, A Christmas Story playing on the old TV. Bobby popped open two bottles of cheap champagne, much to the chagrin of Jo and Sam, who were provided sparkling grape juice instead. They exchanged gifts, and Dean looked at Cas like he’d just won the lottery after opening Cas’s gift to him, a limited edition copy of Houses of the Holy. When Bobby and Ellen moved to the kitchen to clean up, Dean led Cas outside to the Impala.

“It was too big to hide in there, and I’m shit at wrapping, so I just left it in the car,” Dean said, a little sheepish. He opened the trunk, and Cas gasped.

Inside sat a vintage black typewriter, an Underwood Champion. The paint was chipped everywhere, the letters on the keys nearly worn-off.

“It’s not in great shape,” Dean said, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. “But it was the coolest one they had at the antique shop. It’s kind of useless, since you have a laptop and all, but —”

Cas interrupted him by pulling him into a tight hug. Dean made a surprised sound, but wrapped his arms around Cas’s back.

“Thank you, Dean,” Cas said into his shoulder. He pulled away. “It’s perfect.”

Dean shrugged, but looked pleased all the same.

“I have something else for you, too,” Cas said before he could change his mind. Dean crossed his arms.

“Dude, you already went way too hard with the vinyl,” Dean said.

Cas rolled his eyes and started his way back to the house. Dean shut the trunk and followed.

Cas grabbed his backpack and pulled out the stack of paper, his heart pounding loudly in his ears. He all but shoved it into Dean’s chest, who gave him a confused look as he took hold of the gift.

“It’s the first part of my first draft,” Cas explained as Dean read the cover page. Dean’s eyes were wide when he looked back at Cas. “It’s a selfish gift, really,” Cas said. “I want to know what you think.”

Dean broke into a slow grin. “This is awesome, Cas,” he said. “I can’t wait to read it. Thank you.”

 They were supposed to leave Lawrence on New Year’s Day, but Dean and Cas were both too hungover to even think about making the trip. They stayed an extra night, much to the delight of Sam. The three of them spent New Year’s marathoning the Harry Potter movies. As usual, Dean spent most of the time reciting lines and pointing out his favorite scenes to Cas. Eventually, Sam became irritated enough that he told Dean to shove it, to which Dean responded that Cas liked hearing his thoughts, thank you very much. Dean kicked him in the ribs when Sam rolled his eyes and mumbled something like “Sorry for messing up your game.” Cas pretended not to hear that, pretended not to see Dean give Sam a glare that said, bring that up again, and I’ll kill you. All the same, he couldn’t help but wonder… 

But, no. Dean wasn’t flirting with him, Cas knew that much. Sam just said the first thing he could think of to get a rise out of Dean. 

They didn’t end up leaving until after dinner the next day, Sam and even Bobby pulling both of them in for hugs. Dean turned on the radio for the first half of the drive, but kept the volume low. He was quiet, and although Cas wanted to ask, he allowed Dean to sit in whatever he was feeling, watching the flat landscape pass outside the passenger window.

Dean had forgotten to tank up in Lawrence, so they stopped for gas in Emporia. It was dark by then, the unnatural white fluorescents shining starkly against the night sky. Cas stayed in the passenger seat as Dean pumped the gas. Cas watched him intently from the safety of the cab, another stolen moment wherein he allowed the full depth of his feelings to overcome him. It hurt, as it always did, but he thought the pain of wanting what he could never have was becoming softer, more bearable, like he might be able to live with it.

Dean opened the car door, and a rush of cold air assaulted the cab. “It’s nice out tonight,” Dean said. Cas hummed in agreement, contemplating Dean’s languid movements as he pulled his hoodie over his head. It was torturous, the way his shirt rode up to reveal a torso chiseled like marble, dusted with freckles. It was impossible not to stare. He looked away just before Dean looked at him again. 

“I’m gonna go grab a snack,” he said. “You want anything?” 

“I’m fine, thank you,” Cas said.

Dean returned momentarily with an already-half empty package of powdered donuts, grinning widely. Cas rolled his eyes as Dean reentered the cab. 

“Prudent,” he deadpanned. 

“These things are fucking magic,” Dean said before making a completely inappropriate noise as he popped another into his mouth. Cas averted his eyes. 

“Do you eat the most unhealthy foods in existence on purpose?” Cas asked. 

Dean looked at him with mock affront. “I just eat what tastes good,” he said. 

The Impala roared to life. Dean opened the window to toss the empty package into a nearby trash can, dusting his fingers off in the air. He turned back to Cas, the right side of his mouth covered in powdered sugar. 

“Ready to go?” 

Cas frowned. “You look like a small child in a donut shop,” he said. 

“What?” Dean rubbed a hand over his mouth, then raised his eyebrows at Cas. “Better?” 

“Barely,” Cas said, his frown deepening. And then his hand was moving without his permission, reaching up to dust the remaining white from the side of Dean’s mouth. It might have been nothing, were it not for the fact that his thumb lingered just a moment too long. Cas was staring at Dean’s lips, the breath stolen from his lungs. Shit. 

“Cas?” Dean said, an eyebrow cocked.

Cas pulled his hand back like he’d been burned. “What?” He croaked. His throat felt like sandpaper. 

Dean was looking at him with a mix of curiosity and melancholy, and Cas was done for. After all this time, every trip to the dining hall, every movie watched on a shared beanbag, every midnight trip to Taco Bell, it was here that Cas put the final nail in the coffin. It was at a shitty gas station in the middle-of-nowhere, Kansas, that Dean discovered his secret. 

“Nothing,” Dean said slowly. As they pulled out of the gas station parking lot, Dean didn’t even bother to turn on the radio. Cas only dared a single glance in Dean’s direction, but when he did, he found Dean’s eyebrows knit in concentration, his jaw set, like this drive was the most important thing he’d ever done.

The air felt like it was about to condense with the weight of the silence. That final hour of the drive had Cas fidgeting, turning his phone over and over in his hands. Dean was perfectly still, hardly moving his eyes from the road. Dean, the definition of nervous energy, wholly devoted to a single task. Cas could have laughed at the irony if he hadn’t been silently begging for immediate reorganization into an inanimate object. 

Because nothing in the history of unrequited love confessions could beat this. Cas didn’t have a prayer. And maybe Dean would pretend he hadn’t seen it, maybe they’d never talk about it. But everything would be different. Dean would find excuses to miss dinner, Cas would pretend to be exhausted every Tuesday night. Dean would break the news that he’d found a different roommate for the following school year. Cas would remark that they should keep in touch at the year’s end, and Dean would agree with a clap on the back, and they would never speak to each other again. 

Finally, mercifully, Dean pulled into the dorm parking lot. Cas exhaled hard, as if he’d been holding his breath. Dean gave him a quizzical glance, which Castiel promptly ignored. When Dean shifted into park, Cas had his hand on the door handle immediately. He was about to open it, to take a breath of frigid, fresh air, when Dean grabbed his other wrist. 

“Cas.” Dean’s voice was barely above a whisper, gravelly and sincere in a way that sent a shock through Cas’s spine.

Cas turned to face him. “What?” Cas said, trying to ignore the flames creeping up his arm.

“Thanks for, uh,” Dean started, but he cleared his throat. “Thanks for coming. To Lawrence.”

“Of course,” Cas said, and his voice sounded dead, even to him. He tried to infuse it with some vitality as he finished. “Thank you for inviting me. I had a great time.”

Dean nodded. His hand was still wrapped around Cas’s wrist, and he was looking out of the windshield.

Cas raised an eyebrow. “Shouldn’t we… Go inside?” It came out like a question.

Dean’s eyes flicked to his. “Yeah,” he said, but he still wasn’t letting go. And Cas thought he should look away, should open the door, but then the inaction lasted too long. Something about the way Dean was looking at him burned, and he was chewing on the inside of his cheek, like there was something he was trying to convince himself to say. 

Cas wasn’t sure if he really whispered Dean’s name, or if he imagined it. All he knew was, one moment Dean was staring at Cas, lips parted. The next, there was a hand on the back of Cas’s neck and stubble against his cheek and a pair of lips rough against his. Dean was kissing him, and Cas had imagined it so many times he could do nothing but freeze and hope he never woke up from this dream.

Dean pulled away abruptly, too soon, and the give-or-take two feet between them might have ripped a hole in the space-time continuum, it was so cosmically wrong. 

“Shit, that was — I’m so sorry, Cas I didn’t —” Dean was holding his head in his hands, but his words were taking eons to reach Cas’s ears. He just sat, staring in disbelief. Every place Dean had touched was scorched with the absence of him. “I’ll email someone — I’ll try to move out for this semester — fuck, I’m such an idiot,” Dean was saying, and those words shocked Cas back to his plane of existence. 

“Move out?” He croaked, and his voice sounded foreign to his own ears. “Why?” 

Dean looked at him in anguish. “I shouldn’t have — I’m an idiot.” His voice sounded broken and raspy. “I fucked up on Thanksgiving, and now, shit, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“You remember Thanksgiving?” Cas blurted.

Dean tilted his head. “How could I forget that?”

Cas furrowed his brow. “What exactly was your mistake on Thanksgiving?”

Dean stared at him. “The whole damn thing, Cas,” he sputtered. “And now this, and, goddammit, you’re my best friend and I can’t control myself long enough to…” Dean trailed off, and Cas finally understood. Dean had misinterpreted his shock, felt Cas’s stiff and tardy reply and taken it to mean he wasn’t interested. A bubble of hysterical laughter escaped him at the irony.

Dean’s expression darkened. “Yeah, this is fucking hilarious, Cas —”

Cas cut him off. He closed the distance between them, and he could have laughed at the woeful inadequacy of his fantasies when compared to this. It was stilted and desperate, and the center console was digging into Cas’s knee, and an uncomfortable cold was seeping into the cab. But Dean’s fingers were tangled in his hair and he tasted like Diet Coke and cigarettes and he was muttering Cas with every breath and Cas thought he might die in that parking lot because he simply would not allow this to end.

The world had shifted when they finally parted. Dean was looking at him with wonder and confusion. Cas knew he was putting on a similar display. It was dark. Dean’s face was only half-illuminated in the parking lot, but everything about him was brilliant. It was almost too much, like maybe if Cas looked away he’d find himself blind. Cas felt the near-overwhelming urge to kiss him again, to rediscover every plane of Dean’s face he’d already committed to memory.

But he remained in his place, half twisted in the passenger’s seat, because this demanded all manner of explanation. Cas swallowed hard.

“You…” Dean’s voice was a gravelly whisper. “What?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Cas replied, breathless.

“You’re not — You’re not pissed?”

“That depends,” Cas said, his heart hammering against his chest. “What was that?” 

“I —” Dean started, but stopped himself. His leg was bouncing rapidly, and he reached into the pocket of his jeans, presumably for a cigarette. Cas grabbed him by the shoulder. 

“Dean,” he said in a stern voice. 

Dean closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Dammit, Cas,” he said. “What do you want me to say?” 

“The truth,” Cas said, a little taken aback. 

“The truth,” Dean repeated, his eyes remaining resolutely shut. Another deep breath. “It wasn’t supposed to go like this,” he said finally.

And, whatever Cas had been expecting, it wasn’t that. “What?” 

“I was gonna — I dunno, I was gonna do it right. I’ve been meaning to do it right, ask you to fucking dinner or something, but then I thought you hated me after Thanksgiving, and you were busy all the time, and then we were in Lawrence, and —”

“We go to dinner every night,” Cas said. Dean wasn’t making sense. 

Dean finally opened his eyes, only to give Cas a death-stare. “No, dumbass, something a little nicer than the friggin’ dining hall.” He sighed. “But, of course, in my car. What am I, sixteen?” 

“A date,” Cas said, finally catching up. “You were going to ask me on a date.” 

Dean winced a little. “Yeah.” 

“But you didn’t —”

“Thanks for the reminder.” 

“— Because you thought I hated you.” 

“A little bit.” 

Cas smiled incredulously. “If this is a joke, it’s a terrible one.” 

Dean glared at him. “Not a joke, Cas.” 

“But you’re not — Dean, I thought you were straight.” 

Cas felt bad about the statement immediately as Dean winced, but it was true. Nothing was adding up. Dean had never shown an interest in men before, at least not around Cas, and Cas didn’t think he could stand to be Dean’s experimental phase. But he reeled his insecurity back in as he added, “You don’t have to explain anything to me. I’m just… Confused.”

Dean let out a hard breath. “No, I know, I know,” Dean said. “I dunno. Guess I never really thought about it before.” He paused. “I was too scared to think about it.” 

Cas felt his heart break at that. There was a story there, a million things to unpack, but it was obviously a feat for Dean to say as much as he already had. Cas left it alone. 

Dean cleared his throat. “Point is,” he said, “this was a long time coming, but I’m an idiot and couldn’t work up the balls.” He was staring hard at his hands, the admission taking enormous effort. 

A little nervous without the excuse of the heat of the moment, Cas put a hand on Dean’s neck and kissed him, again, short and tender. “You’re not an idiot,” Cas said. 

“Guess not,” Dean said through a breathless laugh. 

Cas cocked his head. “You really thought I hated you?” He asked, his eyes searching Dean’s.

“What else was I supposed to think?” Dean asked. “I thought that was it, you were done with me.” Dean furrowed his brow. “Why’d you do that?”

“Avoid you?”

“Yeah. I mean, if you didn’t — if you weren’t mad.” 

Cas stared at him. “Dean, I can barely remember anything we did on Thanksgiving, much less anything I might have said.” He paused. “And then we were… I didn’t know what to think. Not to mention, up until about five minutes ago, I thought you were — that you weren’t interested.” Cas ran a hand through his hair. “I was worried I might ruin our friendship.”

Something like realization dawned on Dean’s face. He let out another laugh. “Guess we’re a couple of dumbasses.” 

“Maybe,” Cas said with a small smile. “Let’s go inside.”

Dean nodded, and they exited the car and made their way upstairs. And it might have been any other night, save their shoulders touching, fingers brushing, silence charged with something new. Cas unlocked their door, letting Dean in. When he turned after shutting the door behind him, Dean was there, and Cas didn’t even have time to turn on the light before he was shoved hard against the door. Dean’s mouth was hot and his hands were desperate. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Cas thought they should probably talk about this, about them, but then Dean’s breathing hitched as Cas caught his bottom lip between his teeth, and the thoughts stopped coming.

 Cas’s bare back was cold against the linoleum floor, but Dean was warm against his chest. He stared at the ceiling in the dark, his mind scrambled from pleasure and the shock of being wanted.

“Cas,” Dean said against his chest. Cas threaded his fingers through Dean’s hair.

“Yes?”

Dean shifted, perching on his arm, looking down at Cas. “You — you want this?” He said.

Cas stretched his arms up and rested his head on top of his hands. “This?” He asked. Dean was being intentionally vague, but Cas couldn’t exist in limbo. He had to hear the words, as clear as Dean could make them.

Dean gave him a look for a moment, but relented. “Yeah, I know. Okay. This,” he said, gesturing between the two of them. “You and me. Us. Like this.”

“Oh,” Cas said lightly. “That’s what you meant?” Dean rolled his eyes and shoved him. Cas laughed. “The answer is yes.”

A small smile, but it faltered as Dean spoke again. “Are you sure?” He said. “I don’t — I might be really shit at this, you know.”

And Cas did know. There were a million little complications, things they would have to figure out, problems he hadn’t even begun to consider. That might have been terrifying, but the prospect of never having Dean, that was worse.

“I’m sure,” he said quietly. “Are you?”

“Yeah,” Dean said, no hesitation.

Cas sighed as Dean traced circles on his chest. “It’s worth it to try.”

Cas was in between sleep and consciousness when something warm shifted around his back. Whatever dream he’d been having, it felt remarkably real. 

“Wake up, dumbass,” he heard Dean say affectionately. Cas didn’t want this dream to end; he could steal a few more minutes of sleep. He burrowed his head deeper into the pillow, willing the dream to continue. 

But then there was a pair of lips against his ear, and they were entirely real. “C’mon,” Dean said in a low voice. “First day of class.” 

For a moment, Cas was confused. Dean was in his bed. Why was Dean in his bed? But as he rubbed his eyes, the events of the night before came crashing into him. 

Oh. 

Nerves pooled in the pit of his stomach. He half expected Dean to rush out some kind of apology, to tell him that everything had been a big mistake. But when Cas turned to face him, Dean was beaming. 

“Mornin’,” he said. 

“Good morning,” Cas said, awestruck. Dean needed a shave, and his hair was flat on one side from sleep, but Cas still felt his breathing hitch as he stared at Dean, unfettered for the first time. Beautiful. 

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Coffee?”

“Please,” Cas said with a nod. Dean moved to climb out of the bed, but he paused. He turned back toward Cas and kissed him, slow and deep. When he finally broke away, Dean was smiling even wider. 

“Awesome,” he said, earning a snort from Cas. 

If Cas had worried about Dean’s intentions, it was unfounded. At lunch, as Dean talked to Cas like he was the only person at the table, Meg rolled her eyes and told them to “get a room.” Dean responded by throwing an arm around Cas and saying, “Maybe later.” Meg gaped at the two of them for about ten seconds before regaining composure, shifting to more general conversation. Cas received a text from her immediately after they parted ways. 

MM (1:12 p.m.)

holy shit!!!! 

MM (1:13 p.m.)

ur going to tell me everything tmrw

At first, Cas wasn’t sure how to respond, because he wasn’t sure what he was allowed to say. That is, until Dean answered a call from Benny, saying, “Sorry, man, I’m not going tonight, I have a date. Yeah, with Cas. Shut up.” Cas smiled to himself as he replied to Meg. 

CN (2:32 p.m.)

Absolutely.

The three weeks that followed were easily the best of Cas’s life. The rituals remained unchanged; Tuesday was movie night, dinner was at seven-p.m. in the dining hall, late nights doing homework demanded a fast food run. But little things shifted; Dean made it to his birthday without going to a single party, and his bed remained perpetually made. Cas amassed a greater collection of t-shirts that weren’t his, and he only ran when he knew Dean was in class. 

Cas woke up to Dean shifting around him as he attempted to get out of bed for an early class. Cas slung an arm tightly around his midsection in protest. 

“Too early,” he mumbled. 

He heard Dean chuckle. “I thought class was important,” he said, but he shifted closer to Cas nonetheless. 

Cas grumbled something incomprehensible as he pulled out his phone. When he saw the date, however, he shot up, suddenly wide awake. 

At Dean’s look of confusion, he said, “It’s your birthday.” 

“Yeah.”

Cas leaned down and kissed Dean deeply. He pulled away to mutter, “Happy birthday, Dean,” against his lips. Dean closed the small distance as soon as Cas had said the words, and this time it was decidedly heavier, hot breaths mixing and hands pulling each other closer. 

They were interrupted by Dean’s second alarm. Dean scowled as he turned it off. He looked at Cas expectantly, but Cas had his arms folded against his chest. 

“Class is important,” he reminded Dean. 

“But it’s my birthday.”

“And?” 

“Asshole,” Dean grumbled, but he kissed Cas on the jaw as he climbed down from the bed. He put on a pot of coffee as Cas followed him off the bed, wrapping his arms around Dean from the back.

“I got you something,” Cas said into Dean’s shoulder. Dean twisted around to face him. 

“Cas, you didn’t have to do that. I told you, birthday’s are dumb anyway.” 

Cas made a face. “I happen to be endlessly thankful for your birth.” 

Dean shook his head, but he was smiling. “What is it?” 

“You’ll find out on Friday when we go to Benny’s.” 

“We’re going to Benny’s?”

Cas bit the inside of his cheek. “It was supposed to be a surprise,” he said, “Benny and Charlie both insisted. But you once told me you have a strong aversion to surprise parties.” 

“Y’all are throwing me a surprise party?” 

“No,” Cas rushed. “No, that’s why I’m telling you right now.” 

“But it’s a party.” 

“Yes.” 

“You couldn’t have told me yesterday? How long have y’all been planning this?” 

“Only a week.” 

“A week?” Dean paused, his eyes narrowed. “Who all’s gonna be there?” Dean grumbled, already trying to assess the threat of too much attention on him at once. 

“Just Benny, Charlie, and Charlie’s girlfriend,” Cas placated. 

Dean relaxed at that. “And you, right?” 

“I’ll come if you want me there,” Cas said, a little sheepish. He hadn’t really planned on going, wanting to give Dean some time alone to spend with his friends. Cas felt like he’d accidentally achieved a monopoly on Dean’s attention. 

Dean gaped at him. “Dude, of course I want you there.” 

Cas gave him a soft smile. “Then I’ll be there.” 

Dean almost convinced Cas to let him skip class — almost — but with great effort, he resolutely pushed Dean out the door. 

“Damn, all right, if you want to get rid of me that bad,” Dean griped, smirking. “See you later.” 

“Goodbye, Dean,” Cas said with a smile. 

 They didn’t make it to the party. 

Friday afternoon, after spending far too long in bed, Cas was sitting on the beanbag, Dean’s head resting on his lap. They’d taped Dean’s comforter over the window, leaving the room completely dark, save for the film playing on Dean’s television. 

��Fucking asshole,” Dean was saying as Neil’s father came on screen. Cas hummed in agreement, paying more attention to his fingers threading their way through Dean’s hair. Suddenly, Dean’s phone began to ring. He shifted to check the caller ID, then stood up quickly. 

“Wait, pause it, I gotta take this,” he said. Cas obliged. “Hey, Bobby! How’s it goin’?” 

Cas reached above his head to stretch, but he faltered when he heard Dean say, “Dad? What’s wrong?” 

Cas stood abruptly as Dean’s phone slipped out of his hand, shattering upon impact with the linoleum. He was standing, his jaw clenched, staring at absolutely nothing. 

“Dean?” 

Dean remained silent, no indication that he had heard Cas. Cas placed a hand on his left shoulder, prompting Dean into movement. 

Still saying nothing, Dean dumped the contents of his backpack onto the floor, filling it with things from his wardrobe. Cas followed him, frantic. 

“What are you doing? Dean, talk to me,” he said. But Dean was on a mission, it seemed. After stuffing his feet into unlaced boots, he threw the door open and stalked out. 

At a complete loss, Cas pulled on his own shoes and followed, making sure to grab his key as he shut the door to their room behind him. Dean was already halfway to the stairs, and Castiel ran to catch up with him. Dean let the door to the stairs shut in Cas’s face. 

“Dean!” Cas called. Dean was fleeing down the stairs like his life depended on it. Cas only barely caught up to him as they reached the ground floor and exited to the parking lot. 

Finally within reach, Cas grabbed Dean’s shoulder, hard. Dean slowed, but didn’t stop. 

“Dean,” Cas started. Still no response. “Dean! What happened?” 

They had reached the Impala. Dean unlocked the car and threw his bag haphazardly in the front seat. He stared resolutely at the ground. 

“I gotta go, Cas. I’ll explain everything later.” The first words Dean had spoken to Cas in nearly ten minutes. His voice was thick. 

“Dean, where are you going?” Cas asked, desperate. “The party — there’s class on Monday!”

Dean looked up at him then, and Cas was struck by the mixture of fury and sadness in his eyes. “Screw the party and screw class. Family emergency.” 

Cas watched helplessly as Dean sped out of the parking lot, taking the turn so fast the back end of the Impala swayed a little. He stood in the middle of the parking lot for what felt like an eternity, the cold January air seeping into his bones. Eventually, he made his way back to the dorms, sighing in relief as the warm air of the hallway hit him. 

When Cas reentered the room, he stared at Dean’s shattered cell phone. He didn’t even bother to clean up the mess, just let out a choked sigh. Cas fell into the beanbag, his head in his hands.

——

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@nguyenxtrang @castielsbeeslippers @fortiusnitius

[banabanabanabanaba]

i dont have a sparkling grape juice to pop but i have a half empty diet coke bottle cheers mate

[curiousview-blog]

The weird old world of ‘soft drinks’

This is Part 19 of ‘How to stop drinking: A guide for normal people’. It’s a series in which I am sharing my reflections and tips on living, and staying sober, in a fun, honest, down-to-earth way to show that an alcohol-free life is possible. Previous chapters can be found below on www.samwarren.net

When I stopped drinking, I never really thought about what I would drink instead. But nothing could have prepared me for the utter drought of nice, non-alcoholic drinks that I would encounter in pubs, restaurants and clubs. This was in 2011, and although things have definitely improved since then (I’m writing this ten years later in 2021) it’s frankly still a bit shit in most of the places you’ll go on a night out with friends. Especially nightclubs.

One of the reasons I didn't feel instantly well after quitting alcohol was because my sugar intake went through the roof. Pretty much the only alternative to an alcoholic drink in a pub or club is sugar laden fizzy pop or calorific fruit juice (which is a goddamn meal FFS!) unless you can bear to drink diet coke, or are happy to just drink water. And of course you’re not happy to just drink water… YOU WANT A FUCKING GIN AND TONIC. This makes the lack of appealing alternatives even more crushing to the newly sober human. As if this weren’t enough, there's the expense of the horrible things. Dear sweet Lord paying through the nose for a drink you don't want or need that won't even get you pissed!? Talk about rubbing salt in your still smarting sober scars.

One of the more obvious realisations I came to - quite quickly - was that I only wanted a soft drink when I was thirsty. Who knew, huh?! Sure, having something to hold at a party/ In a club/ at dinner is really really important, but as for actually drinking it because you want to? Well, you'll have had your fill after one or two, but your well meaning friends will continue to cajole you into 'having another'. When I was quite newly sober, I went to stay with heavy drinking friends who'd kindly bought in THREE bottles of non-alcoholic red wine, just for me. Which tasted disgusting. I barely managed to make it through three glasses… but even if it had been nice, I had no desire to drink 2.25 litres (half a builder's bucket) of slightly slimy, watered down grape juice, bless them. I’d have probably done the same in their shoes to be fair. I’m pleased to say that there are now some excellent no-alcohol, or de-alcoholised wines available in supermarkets, but sadly, almost no pubs or restaurants have them on the menu, which is pretty much exactly when you want them most. Even if they did, the fact remains that you don’t really want more than a couple of glasses of them, because there’s no alcohol in them whispering you into having another, and then another.

The McGuigan Zero range (available in Tesco) is one I have especially been enjoying lately. 

The only effect of having drink after drink when you are sober is to fill your bladder, make you fat/ rot your teeth/ give you Type 2 diabetes. Sugary drinks are kids drinks. Alcoholics have battered adult palates - bitter ales, dry whites, robust reds, the acidic tang of gin, the throaty burn of vodka… And that, my friend, is when Lime and Soda Is your absolute saviour. I actually think Lime & Soda is the sober person’s superhero. Like the chickpea is to vegans… In some pubs it’s as cheap as 50p a pint, In others you'll be fleeced for as much as £2.50… But it's not too sweet, sparkles like fizz (buttery effervescence on the tongue, you know) and if you have it in a tall glass with ice and a slice, no-one will ever know it's not a G&T. Another good one is ginger beer - it has the kick of alcohol and leaves you feeling warm in your mouth. Take care though as it's often high in sugar, although that can be great for a buzz from time to time too.

But as I said at the start, things are getting better for non-drinkers. The world (well, the UK) seems to be slowly waking up to the fact that non-alcoholics still want the 'fun and treat' of something nice AND FUCKING GROWN UP to drink when we go out (nightclubs are a pathetically sad exception to this). There are now no-alcohol cocktails on lots of restaurant and bar menus - we'll leave aside the disparaging and ‘goody-two-shoes’ labels of 'mocktails' and 'virgins' to one side for now and just say thanks. I've also found bar-tenders are happy to whip you up a fruity creation off-piste if you ask. And there are coffee syrups If you're not feeling the fruit. The Dead Canary in Cardiff made me the most amazing concoction once - like a Brandy Alexander, creamy, chocolatey coffee with a dash of chilli for a kick. 

Me at The Dead Canary in Cardiff, December 2016

Another kind barmaid in Piccadilly fashioned me a long delicious thing to die for that tasted of cherry bakewell and looked as beautiful as could be. My visit to a skyscraper restaurant Manhatta in New York was topped off with a lovely alcohol-free martini, and pretty much every pub now stocks at least one brand of no-alcohol lager - which is frankly so awesome that I have devoted a forthcoming chapter to the stuff, and other ways to ‘be in disguise’.

My birthday ‘Martini’ at Manhatta in New York, March 2019

[my-whumpy-little-heart]

*cracks open a bottle of sparkling grape juice*

Content warning for me being Sappy As Hell out here this afternoon.

Today’s my one year blog anniversary and I honestly can’t believe it. I started this blog on a whim after spending the summer stalking tons of whump blogs and finally thinking of a fun name for my own. I had absolutely no idea what I was doing, and those first few months in my archive are nearly painful to look back on now, but I fell in love with the community.

Seeing the incredible writing around me and watching other blogs pop up and grow was so inspiring, and everyone was just. so kind and considerate towards each other. The whump community is unlike any other internet community I’ve ever seen, and I honestly can’t imagine my life without it at this point.

After a year, I’ve gained just over three hundred followers and I love and appreciate each and every one of you. Having a place to share my writing and art has been so motivating, and I’ve made so many things that I never would have gone through with if not for the support and safe space this community provides. 

And at last, I’ve met some of the best people I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing because of this community. I wasn’t going to go and tag them, but I think you guys need to know just how much you’re loved and appreciated, not only for the amazing work you do, but for who you are and how much you mean to me. I won’t go and tag everyone I want to here because that would be an incredibly long list, but: 

@galaxywhump @pepperonyscience @spookyboywhump @whump-it @ihaventwritteninsolong @slaintetowhump @brutal-nemesis

Thank you to you guys, and to everyone. So excited for another year among such great company <333