#hey look a picture of cornbread

[nizhspo]

genre: haikyuu imagine, fluff

pairing: atsumu miya x fem!reader

summary: you need a job, and the miyas are hiring.

you applied on a monday. it was hot out—like, unbearable, swamp-ass hot. the kind of heat that made you question every life choice that had led to you walking around in knockoff slip-resistant shoes, filling out paper applications for family-owned businesses that probably didn’t even use email.

but you needed a job.

your last one, at that grimy-ass burger chain off the highway, ended in flames—literally.

someone had started a grease fire and blamed it on you and suna, even though you’d both been outside laughing about something stupid near the dumpster. but maybe that was the problem. you laughed too much. slacked off. took tips you technically weren’t allowed to. you fell asleep once in the mop closet. once. and just like that, fired.

but suna kept the job. of course he did. he smiled with his eyes and knew how to look pathetic enough for forgiveness. you, on the other hand?

yeah. you were the cautionary tale now.

so when he sent you the link to some random ass place called miya south third, with a blurry little picture of a chalkboard menu and mismatched stools, you clicked apply.

“they need summer help,” he said. “real short-staffed. family-owned. kinda cute inside.”

you narrowed your eyes. “why does it look like someone took this photo on a toaster.”

“just go. trust me.”

…

you showed up in jean shorts and your best ‘please hire me, i am not a girl who steals food from the kitchen’ smile (you definitely are).

the building was small, with chipped blue trim around the windows and a porch swing out front for whatever reason. inside, it smelled like sugar and butter and smoked meat.

like heaven.

the guy at the register had a clean apron on, rolled sleeves, and a streak of flour across his forearm. black hair, grey at the tips, probably natural. he looked like he took his job a little too seriously.

“what can i get for ya?” he asked in a southern drawl, voice smooth and dry like cornbread.

you hesitated. “um, actually… i’m here with my application?”

his eyebrows lifted. “oh. ma—” he called back, without even turning around. “got another one.”

“be right there!” a woman’s voice shouted, from somewhere in the back.

she appeared a moment later, older, strong-featured, hair pulled back in a loose bun. the kind of lady who could command a kitchen and a church pew in the same breath.

“hi, sweetie,” she smiled. “i’m mayumi. come on back.”

you liked her. she talked fast, like she was already three thoughts ahead, but still made space to ask you things like how school was going, if you had any food allergies, whether or not you could count change without a calculator.

“you can start tomorrow,” she said finally, handing you a paper schedule. “we’re relaxed on dress code, but keep it neat. and no crop tops. this ain’t sonic.”

you winced. “actually, is it okay if i start the day after tomorrow? i have my cousin’s graduation—”

her smile faltered, just a little. “mm. sure. that’s fine.”

…

you met osamu officially on your first shift. same guy from the register. he handed you an apron and walked you through your duties: wipe tables, refill waters, keep the silverware stocked, run food when it’s ready, don’t ask stupid questions.

he wasn’t mean. just dry. meticulous. he had his own little rhythm behind the line and didn’t like being interrupted. but he made good food. real good.

cheesy onigiri that made your mouth water. fried pork belly skewers with peach glaze. buttered cornbread you swore he’d stolen from god’s personal recipe book.

“hey, do you make everything?” you asked, once, cautiously.

“most of it,” he shrugged, flipping a pan. “some of the prep’s ma. desserts are all hers.”

you started to like it there. the place felt like a secret, half cafe, half kitchen table. quiet but never empty.

old ladies came for their tea and gossip. high school kids rolled through sweaty from practice, crashing into booths and inhaling everything. a couple of cops came in like clockwork every thursday and flirted harmlessly with mayumi. regulars knew your name by week two.

but there was always one name you heard more than any other.

atsumu.

“that boy ain’t been in since sunday.”

“atsumu was supposed to close but left at eight.”

“atsumu’s good with customers, but he’s got a squirrel brain.”

you never saw him. never even glimpsed him. like a fucking myth. the golden child with a bad work ethic. a tornado with bleach-blond roots.

“is he real?” you asked osamu one day, half-joking.

he just scowled. “unfortunately.”

…

you met him in week four.

you’d been working by yourself all night. slow shift. only two tables, both polite. you were wiping down the counter when the bell above the door jingled and a voice called out—

“yo! sorry i’m late.”

you turned. blinked. stared.

shirt untucked, sleeves rolled up, hair a tousled mess. taller than you expected. sharp jaw, easy grin, eyes gold like honey under the flickering track lights.

and obnoxiously, obviously confident.

“you’re the new girl?” he asked, eyes sweeping over your apron, your name tag, your lip gloss.

“yeah.”

he tilted his head, smirking like he already knew something you didn’t. “damn. if osamu told me we was hiring pretty girls, i would’ve stopped by way sooner.”

you raised a brow, tone dry. “maybe he didn’t want to scare us off.”

he laughed. “relax. i’m just sayin’ hey.”

you didn’t respond. just handed him the rag and pointed to the tables.

“if you’re here,” you said, “you’re working.”

he whistled, low and impressed. “feisty.”

you turned before he could see the corner of your mouth twitch.

…

working with him was chaos. he was all energy and bad ideas. put music on the speakers when he wasn’t supposed to. gave customers extra sauces just to piss off osamu. leaned against the counters telling stories that went nowhere.

but he was good with people. really good.

old ladies loved him. toddlers gave him high-fives. couples tipped more when he flirted with both of them.

he had that thing. the kind of charm you couldn’t fake.

and the worst part?

he could actually cook. really cook. when he tried. he made a grilled mackerel sandwich that left you speechless and a watermelon-mint slushie that saved your ass one day when you got overheated near the fryer.

“you could be, like, amazing,” you told him once.

he winked. “i am amazing.”

you rolled your eyes. “no, i mean, here. if you tried.”

he leaned in a little too close. “you tryna make me a better man, sweetheart?”

you swatted at him with a menu. “i’m trying to get through one shift without a health code violation.”

…

then there was the suna thing.

you were restocking forks near the back, squatting by the shelves with one airpod in and your mind half on nothing, when the bell over the front door jingled.

then— “yo. smellin’ real good in here today.”

you blinked. froze. that voice.

you popped your head up so fast you smacked your elbow on the counter. “rintarou?”

he was already grinning, hands in his pockets like he owned the place. “sup.”

“what are you doing here?”

atsumu, drying his hands on a rag, leaned around from the kitchen with a raised brow. “you know him?”

“uh, yeah? this is my best friend.” you looked between them, still reeling. “you know him?”

atsumu and suna dapped each other up like they’ve been doing it since birth. casual. like it was normal.

“uh, yeah? we go to school together?” suna said, deadpan. “he’s literally in my homeroom.”

you whipped toward suna so fast your ponytail hit your cheek. “so you sent me to work with this asshole and didn’t say anything?”

he blinked. shrugged. “you needed a job did you not?”

you threw a paper napkin at his face with the force of someone who wanted it to be a brick.

he didn’t even flinch.

just caught it, tucked it in his pocket like it was a gift, and walked straight to the fridge in the lobby. “y’all got any more of that green tea?”

…

things changed after that.

you started getting shifts with atsumu more often. sometimes on accident. sometimes not. sometimes he’d text you, yo, need help tonight? and you’d say no, but he’d show up anyway.

he always found something to tease you about. your hair, your handwriting, the way you folded napkins like a little perfectionist. but he also brought you lemonade when you looked tired. kept your favorite station playing when it was just the two of you. helped you mop even when he technically didn’t have to.

you didn’t admit it, but you looked forward to seeing him.

you’d watch him out the corner of your eye, shirt untucked and dancing to a playlist he definitely wasn’t allowed to control, singing along under his breath. you’d pretend not to notice how he glanced at you in the reflection of the fridge glass. how he always brushed your arm when you passed behind him. how his smile changed when it was just you and him and the open hum of the kitchen at night.

…

the kiss came late. a tuesday. close to midnight.

you were both closing. a mess of dishes behind you. air thick with fryer heat and the distant smell of brown sugar. you were stacking chairs when he said, real quiet—

“you like it here?”

you looked at him. “yeah. i do.”

he nodded. shifted his weight. “good. ‘cause i was kinda hopin’ you’d stay.”

you smiled. “you trying to make sure you don’t have to cover more shifts?”

he stepped a little closer. “nah. i mean. that, too. but…”

his fingers brushed yours. warm. nervous.

“you ever wonder what we’d be like?”

you blinked. heartbeat stuttering. “what do you mean?”

he shrugged, leaned back on his elbows like the question wasn’t setting your whole world on fire.

“i mean… if i kissed you right now, would you tell me to fuck off or kiss me back?”

his voice was low. careful. almost teasing, but not quite.

that grin was there, yeah, but it didn’t touch his eyes. not the way it usually did when he was joking.

this wasn’t a joke. and he knew you knew that.

you didn’t answer. just tilted your head. stepped in.

and kissed him.

he kissed like he did everything. cocky, a little messy, but surprisingly sweet. his hands on your hips, yours in his hair. the fridge humming behind you. your apron still tied, the smell of powdered sugar in your hair.

when you pulled away, he whispered, “gonna make this night last real long, huh?”

you snorted. “you wish.”

he kissed you again anyway.

…

weeks passed. things got easier. funnier. warmer. he still flirted with customers, but now he always looked at you after, like he was waiting for your reaction.

you just rolled your eyes, threw wadded-up receipts at his head, laughed when he missed the trash bin three times in a row.

you were still the only non-miya working there. but it didn’t feel weird anymore. it felt like home.

especially with him.

on your birthday, he brought in pink cupcakes with “happy shift queen” written in terrible icing. you swore he paid some toddler to do it.

on his day off, he still came in. sat on the counter with his chin in his hand, watching you wipe tables.

“can’t stay away, huh?” you asked.

“nah,” he said. “my girl’s here.”

you rolled your eyes. “you’re so annoying.”

“but cute, though.”

you didn’t disagree.

…

that night, when the last customer left, he locked the door behind them, flipped the sign, and leaned back against the glass.

“hey,” he said, tugging you gently by your apron.

you looked up. “yeah?”

he grinned. “kiss the cook?”

you kissed him slow, laughter in your chest. “only if the cook actually does his job tonight.”

“you wound me.”

but he was already moving toward the kitchen, grabbing a mop with one hand and your waist with the other.

and yeah. maybe you were still technically the only non-miya working at miya south third.

but they were starting to feel a little like family, too.

[wordsofwhimsy]

❀ꗥ～𝐁𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭, 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐬𝐨𝐧 ～ꗥ❀

❀ꗥ～ Part Six ～ꗥ❀

Pairing: Main!Mark Grayson x Southern Belle!Reader

Warnings: Eh, a brief fight scene, nothing crazy

Tags: Fluff, slice-of-life, Meemaw with a gun

Word Count: 2,115

Synopsis: Mark swears he’s living in an old southern romance and what’s better – you and he are the stars. The only problem: he’s still hiding his hero identity. Things come to a head however when a gaggle of alien villains decide to take their fight to YOUR street.

a/n: I. LOVE. THEM. like, feral about it!!! grrrr

read part five ❀ꗥ～Here! ～ꗥ❀

Mark wasn’t sure when exactly his life turned into a dream sequence, but he wasn’t asking questions.

Maybe it was the way you always looped your arm through his when you walked together—like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like you’d been holding onto him your whole life and just picked up where you left off. Maybe it was the way you leaned into his side when you laughed, or how you still packed him little Tupperwares of cornbread like he might forget to eat if you didn’t.

Whatever it was, Mark was blissfully, absurdly, unapologetically in love.

He knew it the first time he saw you crouched in the chicken coop behind your Meemaw’s house, apron tied around your waist and boots sunk ankle-deep in straw, cooing at a hen like it was a baby while expertly plucking eggs into a basket. He definitely knew it when he watched you haul a bale of hay over your shoulder without breaking a sweat, your hair tied up in a red bandana and your smile radiant under the morning sun like some kind of farm goddess.

And he absolutely, beyond a shadow of a doubt, knew it when you offered him a peach scone one Saturday morning and said, “Mornin’, sugar,” like you didn’t just casually own his entire heart.

Mark found himself spending more and more time out at your house. Sometimes you studied together on the porch swing, your notes color-coded and neat as a pin. Sometimes you roped him into helping with chores—well, “helping” was a generous term, given that you moved like you’d been born doing this and he nearly broke a toe tripping over a goat.

He loved every second of it.

What he didn’t love was lying to you.

It wasn’t even really lying—just… strategic omission. You didn’t know the full truth. That the bruise on his jaw wasn’t from gym class or a bad fall. That the occasional limp, the mysterious cuts, the fact that he sometimes disappeared for a few hours with no explanation—all of that was part of a much bigger picture.

A picture with a mask. And a secret name. And a whole lot of responsibility he couldn’t exactly hand off.

He hadn’t told you. Not because he didn’t trust you—God, he trusted you more than anyone—but because the idea of looking you in the eye and saying, “Hey, by the way, I sometimes sneak out and fight crime in a spandex suit” sounded like the fastest way to lose the best thing that had ever happened to him.

Which is why, when you reached up one lazy Sunday afternoon and brushed your thumb gently over the bruise just below his collarbone, he panicked.

“Oh, sugar…” Your brows furrowed. “What happened here?”

Mark froze.

Shit.

“Oh, uh—nothing,” he said, way too fast. “Just… gym. Took a bad hit in dodgeball. You know how it is.”

You tilted your head, not buying it. “Since when do y’all play full-contact dodgeball?”

He laughed—awkward. “It’s a new thing. Experimental. Real cutting edge.”

“Uh huh.”

You didn’t press, but your touch lingered just a second longer than usual. Soft. Concerned. And it made something twist hard in Mark’s chest.

Because you were smart. You were always watching. And eventually, he knew… he’d have to tell you everything.

But not yet.

Not today.

Today, he leaned down and kissed your forehead instead, whispering something about being more careful next time, and you smiled like that was good enough.

He wasn’t sure how long he could keep this up.

But he’d sure as hell try—for as long as you’d let him.

—

The sun was low in the sky, casting golden streaks across the dirt road as you wandered with your parasol tilted just so, the lace edges catching the light like halos. The crickets were chirpin’, and the breeze carried the smell of cut grass and peach blossoms.

You were mid-hum—some old Patsy Cline tune, real soft—when a BOOM cracked through the air like thunder straight from the pits of hell.

You barely had time to scream before something—a man? a thing?—came crashing down the street, tearing a rut through the dirt and flipping a pickup truck like it was a toy. You froze. Heart jackhammering. The only danger you were used to back home was an ornery possum or the occasional fistfight at Uncle Bobby’s bar on Saturday night.

This? This was not that.

You ducked instinctively behind a mailbox post as more figures landed in the road, all snarling and glowing eyes and God-fearing chaos. You were halfway to panic when a blur of blue and yellow zipped in front of you like a comet, knocking one of the villains clean into a tree.

“Stay down!” the hero barked—voice strained, deep, familiar.

The blue and yellow clad savior hit the first villain like a freight train, knocking him sky-high and flipping the second one with a bone-rattling crunch. You peeked out from behind the small post, jaw slack, parasol hanging limp at your side.

Another hit. Another flash. And just like that, they were all down.

The wind settled. Dust floated in the golden light.

He turned, breathing hard, blood at the corner of his mouth.

“You okay, miss?”

His voice.

That voice you’d heard whispering to you in the kitchen just this morning. The voice that called you darlin’ when he thought no one could hear.

Your breath caught. Your spine straightened. And you started walking.

The hero froze.

Just—froze.

You stepped right up to him, boots crunching softly in the dirt, and stopped a foot away. He didn’t say a word. Didn’t move.

You reached up—real gentle—and tugged the mask up past his eyes and into his hairline.

And there he was.

Messy hair. Busted lip. Brown eyes wide and terrified like you’d just caught him sneaking in past curfew.

“...I knew it,” you whispered. “You dummy.”

Mark opened his mouth.

You stared at him. Blinked again. And then just let out a stunned little laugh.

“I thought you were in, like… some underground fight club or somethin’.”

“…What?”

You hit his arm—not hard. “I dunno! You kept showin’ up with bruises, and I figured maybe you were just real bad at MMA and too proud to tap out.” You shook your head, eyes flicking down to his suit then back to his bloodied face. “You’re some kinda crime fightin’ Superman?! And you didn’t tell me?”

Mark blinked once. Twice.

And then—despite the split lip, despite the scuff on his cheek, despite the sheer chaos around him—he smirked.

A slow, crooked little thing that made your stomach flip and your glare deepen.

“You think I’m Superman?” he said, all faux-innocent, voice dropping an octave like he hadn’t just body-slammed someone into a tree stump. “That’s… kinda hot.”

Your mouth fell open. “Excuse me?”

He gave a weak shrug, clearly pleased with himself. “I mean, I’m not that good…”

You stepped closer, brows raised, voice deadpan. “Markus.”

“Yeah?”

“I just watched you destroy a stop sign with a man’s body.”

“Okay, in my defense—he was being very rude.”

You let out a long breath through your nose. “I swear to God, I should’ve known. Nobody that pretty gets bruises that often without bein’ into somethin’ stupid.”

Mark grinned—teeth bloody, smile blinding. “So you do think I’m pretty.”

You just stared at him, then muttered, “You’re lucky you’re cute,” and turned on your heel, parasol bouncing at your side as you marched back home.

Mark stumbled after you, still grinning. “So that’s a yes on Superman?”

“You keep talkin’ and I’m tellin’ Meemaw.”

“...Right. Shutting up.”

You crossed your arms, parasol still dangling from your wrist like the world wasn’t upside down. “You do realize you knocked over Mr. Fenley’s pecan tree, right?”

Mark groaned. “Aw, man. He loves that tree…”

—

You were halfway up the porch steps, dragging Mark behind you like a misbehaving child at Sunday school, when the screen door slammed open with a bang that nearly knocked your parasol out of your hand.

And there she was.

Meemaw.

Hair up in curlers, apron dusted in flour, house slippers on like battle armor—and a .22 rifle resting casually in the crook of her arm like it was just another casserole dish.

Her eyes swept over the wrecked road, the unconscious villains scattered across the front lawn like poorly placed yard decorations, then landed squarely on Mark.

She squinted.

Then, in a voice loud enough to rattle your molars: “What in the HELL happened out here?”

Mark froze behind you, spine stiffening like he was back in math class and forgot his homework.

You cleared your throat, dusting gravel off your skirt like this was just any ol’ day. “Well, Meemaw… turns out Mark’s been gettin’ those bruises not from football or gym class like he claimed—” you shot him a look, “—but from throwin’ hands with actual monsters.”

Mark shifted behind you, muttering, “Technically it was aliens this time…”

You held up a hand without looking at him. “Hush. I’m talkin’.”

Then back to Meemaw, deadpan: “Apparently my boyfriend’s some kinda superhero. Like the real kind. Tights, punches, midair backflips—the whole shebang.”

Meemaw paused for just a beat before she spoke. “Of course he is. And here I thought y’all were sneakin’ off to kiss behind the barn.”

Mark lifted one hand. “Hi, ma’am.”

She didn’t blink. “Boy, you just threw a grown man into my begonias.”

“…Sorry.”

Meemaw exhaled slowly through her nose. “You’d best be explainin’ everything before my pecan pie cools. And you—” she pointed at you without looking, “—bring the peroxide.”

He whispered, “Is she gonna shoot me?”

You sighed, linking your arm with his as you tugged him inside.

“Only if you lie again, sugar.”

Later that night…

“You sure this is safe?” Mark asked, eyeing the mason jar in your hand like it might sprout legs and bite him.

You knelt in front of him on a little woven mat, hair pulled back, sleeves rolled up, utterly unfazed.

“It’s somethin’ my great-auntie used to swear by,” you said, unscrewing the lid. “Vinegar, turpentine, cayenne pepper, honey, and a dash of prayer.”

Mark’s eyes went wide. “...That sounds like it belongs on barbecue.”

“Don’t sass the remedy, sugar.” You dipped a rag in the mix, wrung it out, and without warning, pressed it gently to the cut on his ribs.

“HOLY—” he hissed, nearly levitating off the tub.

“Don’t move,” you warned, steady as a surgeon. “It’s supposed to burn. That means it’s workin’.”

“It means I’m dying,” he wheezed. “Why does it smell like a fire hazard?”

You just smiled sweet as pie. “Old southern secret. Been usin’ it since before electricity.”

He groaned, head falling back. “You’re trying to kill me.”

“If I was tryin’ to kill you, baby, you’d already be dead.” You paused, then leaned forward and kissed the spot you just treated—soft and slow. “There. Better?”

He blinked. Breath caught. “...Yeah. Much better.”

You rested your hand against his jaw, thumb brushing over the bruise near his cheekbone. For a long moment, neither of you spoke. Just the low buzz of cicadas outside and the faint clink of glass as you set the jar aside.

“I was scared,” he said finally, voice low and raw. “To tell you. I thought... if you knew what… I do… you'd leave.”

Your gaze softened, but you didn’t pull away. “Mark.”

He looked down.

You took his face in both hands, lifting it gently until he met your eyes. “If you think I’m lettin’ go of a man who can lift a tractor and still gets shy when I kiss his cheek, well then honey, I’ve got an ocean front property in Kentucky to sell you.”

Mark let out a breath, lips parting like he might laugh—might cry—but before he could say anything, you gave him a look. One brow lifted, the hint of a smirk playing on your lips.

Then you tapped a finger gently against your mouth. Once. An expression on your face that said, I’m waiting.

He didn’t hesitate. Leaning in to kiss you—slow, reverent—like you were the only real thing left in the world.

When you pulled back, he was breathless.

“...I love you,” he whispered.

You smiled, soft and sure, and cupped his cheek in your hand.

“Oh, honey,” you murmured, leaning in to kiss him again—gentle, sweet, and just a little smug. “You just figurin’ that out?”

read part seven ❀ꗥ～Here! ～ꗥ❀

[kammii]

𝐁𝐥𝐮𝐞 𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐫 - 𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢 𝐟𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐨

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬..... 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐨𝐜, 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐫!𝐭𝐨𝐣𝐢, 𝐠𝐫𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐲!𝐭𝐨𝐣𝐢, 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭!𝐭𝐨𝐣𝐢, 𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐭!𝐭𝐨𝐣𝐢, 𝐯𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐩𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐍𝐎 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒!!!

𝗔/𝗻: just dropping this by… :)

8:45pm; Home

𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐑𝐀, hummed softly to herself, the melody of an old R&B song filling the air. She stood barefoot in her spotless kitchen, stirring a pot of collard greens on the stove. The smell of garlic, smoked turkey, and cornbread baking in the oven filled the house, mingling with the faint scent of lavender cleaner.

She'd spent the day cleaning up making sure the house was spotless and smelling good. The counters gleamed, her black and purple Ninja appliances. The lightly purple colored fridge stood beside her, covered with magnets holding recipes and pictures of her and her husband.

On the dining table, she'd set out plates with purple napkins and glasses filled with sweet tea.

"Dinner's ready, Milo. You think daddy's 'gonna like it?" Amira said glancing at the ginger cat which was sprawled on his favorite perched by the window. Milo let out a lazy meow, his green eyes half- closed.

Amira chuckled, wiping her hands on her lavender colored apron and checked the time on the stove. It was nearly 9:00pm, and her husband— Toji would be home any minute.

She wanted everything to run smoothly. Despite how exhausted he always seemed when he came home, she wanted to make sure he knew she cared.

The last couple of months had been rough. Toji had been picking up extra shifts at the plant, covering for coworkers who'd been fired for stealing time. She understood why he was doing it— extra money, bills paid, house staying warm, and making sure that she was comfortable.

That was the kind of man Toji was: selfless, hardworking, always doing what he could for his little family.

But that didn't make the loneliness any better.

Amira missed the way how he used to wrap his arms around her waist, pulling her close while she cooked, whispering sweet nasty things in her ear. She missed their late night talks, his teasing grin when he'd call her "Fat Booty" just to hear her giggle at the name.

She missed feeling like his number one priority.

The front door creaked open, and Toji's heavy boots thudded against the floor. He stepped inside, his shirt clinging to his muscular frame and his tattoo's were peaking from underneath his shirt, going up towards the side of his neck.

"Hey, baby," Amira called from the kitchen, a smile tugging at her lips. She turned to face him as he walked in, his tired eyes scanning the kitchen before landing on her.

"Hey, It looks good in here," he said, kicking his boots off and setting his Kuromi themed colored lunch bag down on the small black shelf before taking off his work jacket, hanging it up on the coat hanger.

He picked back up his lunch bag and made his way over to his wife. "Mm-hmm, thank you." She places her hands on her thick curves, her curves accentuated by the snug Kuromi black and purple lounge set she wore.

They made eye contact before he placed down his lunch bag on the counter and wrapped his strong, veiny arms around her waist.  The faint callouses on his fingers brushed against her soft skin, sending a shiver up her spine.

"It smells good too," he murmured, his voice husky with affection. The rich timbre resonated through her chest, igniting a slow warmth within her.

Toji pressed a trail of soft kisses along her jawline, his lips grazing her skin. "You smell good, fat booty. You used that new body wash I brought you?" His voice dropped slightly, making her knees weak.

"I did," Amira replied softly. The smell of vanilla mixed with coco butter lingered off her body. A small smile curled on her lips as her fingers brushed against his broad chest.

"Fuck baby" Toji murmured, his eyes lingered on her, drinking her in as he was trying to decide if he had the energy to give into the temptation, but the weight of the day tugged at him and the exhaustion crept up.

With a soft groan, Toji placed one more kiss on her lips before pulling away, his hands briefly tighten on her waist as if he didn't want to let go.

Running a hand through his jet black hair, Toji exhaled deeply trying to ground himself. His gaze shifted to Milo who was now asleep in the window.

"Has milo been scratching at the couch today?" Toji asked. Amira sighed, crossing her arms over her chest. "Of course he has. I caught him this morning going at it" she said, shaking her head.

"That little fucker." Toji clicked his tongue, "I swear, 'm gonna toss that damn couch away and get a new one. Something that's Milo proof... if that even exists."

"You'd get a new couch just for him to ruin that one too?," Amira teased raising a brow.

Toji gave a low chuckle, "Yeah well, he's damn lucky he's cute or he would have been long gone."

Amira playfully shook her head, "Milo's not going anywhere but you are, Go get cleaned up so we can have dinner." She nudged him towards the hallway with a smile tugging at her lips.

"Yes ma'am" he nodded before walking away.

𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐑

As Amira placed down the last steamy plate she saw Toji emerged from the hallway, his damp hair sticking to his forehead and a tank top stretched snug over his muscular chest, his sleeve tattoo sprawled across his muscular arm.

The faint scent of Old Spice body wash drifted into the kitchen. As he continued to make his way to the table, his shoulders sagged slightly. "Thank you baby," he said taking a seat as Amira took hers as well.

"You're welcome sweetie," Her heart had skipped a beat. It's been quite a while since they actually had a nice meal together.

They ate in a comfortable silence for a while, the clink of utensils filling the room. Amira sipped her tea, her gaze lingering on Toji. She couldn't continue to stay quiet.

She cleared her throat, "So sweetie.. can we talk?"

Toji paused mid bite, glancing up at her with a furrowed brow. "Yeah, what's up?"

She hesitated, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass. "You've been working a lot lately....like a lot."

Toji sighed, leaning back in his chair with his fork still in hand. "Yeah, I told you that baby. They've been short staffed since they let those idiots go. Someone's gotta pick up the slack."

"I understand that," Amira said, her voice steady but tinged with emotion. "But it feels like all you do is come home, eat, shower and sleep. Toji we barely make conversation towards each other and I was surprised we talked earlier.. I just miss you that's all."

Toji's jaw tightened, as he sat down his fork with a quiet clink. "Amira, you think I want to be working this much? You think I don't miss you too?"

"I'm not saying that," she replied, her tone sharpening. "I'm basically saying I don't see you like that anymore and it's like when I do, you're too tired to even talk to me."

Toji ran a hand through his damp hair, letting out another sigh. "Amira, I'm doing this for us. For you. So you don't have to stress about bills or anything else."

"I didn't marry you for your paychecks Toji," Amira said, her voice was starting to crack with tears filling up in her eyes. "I feel like I'm living alone in this house half of the time."

The conversation took a turn. Toji looked at her, his dark eyes narrowing slightly. "You think it's easy for me to come home seeing you looking this good, smelling this good, and not being able to spend time with you the way how I want to?"

Amira blinked, surprised by the tone of his voice. "Then do something about it Toji, Take a day off or two. Stop picking up every shift that's thrown at you. You literally just worked 16 days in a row.."

Toji stood up, his chair scraping against the floor as it was pushed back. "Amira, you think it's so fucking simple, I can't just stop and drop everything..'m trying to make sure we're good, Amira. That we stay good."

Those tears that had been threatening to spill out her eyes finally escaped, rolling hot and fast down her face. Her voice cracked trembling under the weight of frustration. "Well Toji, does it look like we're good? I feel like I'm losing you by the second and I'm so tired of this." Her hands shook as she wiped her cheeks, trying in vain to reclaim her composure.

The room seemed to shrink with the tension.

"Baby..." Toji's voice softened, his shoulders slumping as the anger drained from his face. He stepped around the table cautiously as his hand was stretched out to grab her hand.

But Amira stepped back and swatted his hand away with more force than he expected. "Don't," she snapped, her voice was sharp. She shook her head, "Just leave me alone, please. Eat your dinner before it gets cold."

She took another step back, her arms folding across her chest, before turning around on her heels and walking away.

Toji stood there frozen, the weight of her words lingered leaving him speechless. He didn't mean to make his baby upset.

𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓

Toji ran a hand down his face as he made his way up the stairs, his footsteps were slow and heavy. He hates having an argument with his baby. His jaw clenched as he reached the top of the stairs and made his way to the guest room, knowing that's where Amira went.

He lifted his hand to knock but hesitated, pressing his palm flat against the wooden door instead. He could hear— her soft broken sniffles from the other side.

Damn it.

Toji did a heavy sigh before pushing the door open. The room was dark except for the faint glow of the moon slipping through the blinds. His eyes immediately landed on her figure.

His chest ached at the sight of her curled up beneath the blanket, her back facing him. She was trying to hide, but he could hear her cries.

"Baby," he murmured, closing the door behind him. His voice was gentle but she didn't respond.

Toji walked to the bed, sitting carefully on the edge. The mattress dipped under his weight, but Amira didn't move. His hand hovered over the blanket before he slowly placed it on what he assumed was her arm.

" I know you don't wanna talk to me," he started his voice was lace with exhaustion. "But we don't go to bed mad at each other. That's our rule." He said sighing. " So let's talk." He said but it was followed by silence.

Straight silence.

He swallowed hard and tried again. "I shouldn't have cussed at you, Fuck I'm sorry baby. I was frustrated but that doesn't excuse it. And I'm sure as hell should've listened to you instead of brushing off how you felt." His fingers gently stroked the blanket over her arm. "I'm sorry for hurting your feelings, Amira."

"I don't want you in here alone. I don't want you feeling like I don't care... because I do, more than anything."

A moment passed before Amira finally moved. The blanket slipped down slightly, revealing her face. Her eyes were red and puffy, lips trembling as she sniffed.

Amira lips parted as another tear slipped down her face. "You didn't even listen to me Toji. You just— got mad. You didn't even try to see where I was coming from, and it hurt. It hurts so much because it makes me feel alone."

Toji exhaled sharply, his hands sliding to cuff her jaw. "Damn it, Amira I know," He admitted. "I was an asshole and I got caught up in my own feelings not thinking about you."

She looked away, another sniffle escaping her. "And then you cussed at me....you don't never do that Toji." More tears spilled out her eyes as she tried to silently cry.

His stomach twisted. "Baby, I didn't mean that," he said quickly, his voice was full of regret. "I let my temper get the best of me, and I took it out on you, and I hate that I did that. I don't want you to ever feel like I don't respect you, 'cause I do."

Amira stayed quiet, but her face softened just a little.

Toji tilted her chin up, making her look at him. "I'm sorry, baby," he said. "I don't wanna fight with you, you're the only person that I have. Just... let me make it right."

"I hate fighting with you, Amira said.

"I know," he murmured, his lips pressing on her forehead "Me too,"

A shaky exhale left her lips before she finally leaned into him, resting her hands on his chest.

Toji didn't hesitate to kiss her plump lips. It was soft at first, almost hesitant. But when Amira sighed against his lips, clutching at his tank top and kissed him back with just as much desperation, Toji lost himself in her.

The kiss deepened as his large, strong veiny hands found their way to her waist, rubbing sensually making her gasp. "Toji..." she breathed out, her head tilting back as he trailed, hot opened mouthed kisses down her neck.

"I got you baby," his husky voice sent shivers down her spine. "Fuck... I fucking miss this." His fingertips toyed with her waist band before pulling her lounge pants down.

He threw the pants down on the side of the bed and pushed her back gently against the bed, just the site of her beautiful body and the sexy ass lace underwear she had on made him just want to devour her.

He was in fact beginning to regret working all those days...

He watched her squirm under his touch. Grabbing her thick thighs, he spreads her thighs apart licking his lips.

"You look so good 'mira" he brought his fingers to rub on her clothed pussy. Her wetness seeping through the fabric, by the second Toji's dick was straining against his boxers and sweatpants— waiting to be taken out.

"Can't wait to taste this pussy," his voice was thick with lust as he bent down, getting comfortable on the bed. His mouth was hovering over her lace panties. He stuck out his tongue and licked the lace, leaving a wet trail.

Amira jerked, a soft whine escaped her lips as she felt his fingers pull aside her panties exposing her wet ass pussy. "Sweetie.... Please don't... please don't tease me," tears started to swell up in her eyes.

" I'm not baby, I can't wait much longer..... 'm finna tear this shit up," he stretched the lace panties even wider before placing his mouth on her clit.

He began to lick her clit with wide lustful strokes, his tongue flattening against her sensitive flesh. Amira eye lashes fluttered as she felt the pleasure course throughout her body.

"Fuck just like that!," her hands found its way to his head, her fingertips running through his dark hair, she pushed his head down further wanting to feel even more.

Oh how she missed this.

"Yeah grab my head like that baby, mhm" he spoke against her clit, before stopping to gather spit in his mouth.

He spitted directly onto her swollen clit, the wetness mixing in with her arousal, and slurped it back up. "Mmm these are getting in my way" he pulled down her soaked panties tossing them to the side.

Her pussy was just so pretty and he didn't want to stop eating!

He wrapped his arms around her thighs, pulling her forward until she was flush against his face, trapping her in his grasp.  His breath was hot against her slick folds before his tongue flicked out again, over her swollen clit with precision.

His grip tightened, fingers digging into her soft flesh as he devoured her, his tongue working slow, deliberate strokes before switching to fast, hungry flicks that made her body jolt.

"Yes just like that, baby you eating this pussy so good," she moaned as she felt her legs tremble. Toji hummed against her, the vibrations shooting straight through her core, making her back arch. His lips latched onto her clit, sucking with just the right amount of pressure before his tongue traced messy circles around it, drawing out a choked whimper from her.

The heat in her belly coiled tighter, a sweet, unbearable pressure building fast.

“You gonna cum all over my face baby? Hm?" Amira covered her mouth with her hand as her eyes rolled to the back of her head.

"Yes daddy, 'm gonna cum.." her fingers tightened, the first wave of her orgasm hit her. "I'm cumming Toji!-". Toji's tongue moved faster, greedier, as her thick thighs tightened around his head as she felt the familiar, blissful release wash over her.

Her cry was met with a deep groan from Toji. He held her down firmly, his mouth never leaving her pussy. His tongue continued its lascivious dance until she came down from her high.

"You did real good, fat booty. So fucking good." he unraveled his arms from around her thighs and brought himself up.

Her body shuddered, as she saw his mouth and jaw glistening in her juices.

"I missed tasting that pussy, mira," Toji neared his face towards her. She was so damn beautiful. He hungrily kissed her lips, making her taste herself.

"You taste yourself, mama" he pulled back, his lustful eyes looking down at her watching her lick her lips.

Amira hummed, nodding her head tasting her cum mixed with his saliva. "Tastes so good mhmm,". Fuck. Toji loved when she got like this, so damn nasty— it made his body hot.

As his bulge continued to grow he couldn't take it anymore as his precum began to stain his sweats.

He tugged down his sweats with his right hand. His dick flops out hitting his stomach. "Dick so damn big, that's gonna hurt." Amira mouth watered at the sight.

His pretty pink tip oozed with pre cum, "you know this shit..." he grabbed Amira legs bringer her closer, with his free hand he smeared his pre cum all over his tip, groaning in the process. Becoming real impatient.

He slaps his long, veiny dick on her sloppy, wet pussy. " 'ts gonna fit, It always fits right baby.." he then, rubbed his tip on her clit before making his way towards her hole.

He pushed into her slowly, feeling her tense beneath him. A sharp gasp slipped from her lips as the thick head of his dick stretched her open.

"Oh my god..." she exhaled, her fingers gripping the cotton sheets, her back arching slightly. A burning sensation pulsed through her core— it has been a while, and her body needed time to adjust and she knew that. She also knew that soon, that burning, stinging sensation would turn into pleasure.

Something she had been yearning for.

Toji clenched his jaw, feeling her warmth wrapping around his dick. She was sucking him in, gripping him like she don't want to let him go. His muscles strained, every instinct screaming at him to thrust deeper so he can feel every bit of her, but he forced himself to go slow.

"You takin' this dick so well," he rasps, his hands gripped her thighs, thumbs pressing into her soft skin. His face twisted with pleasure as he felt her flutter around him. He's trying his best not to cum, he'd be embarrassed and it would most definitely hurt his pride— in bed.

Amira's breath hitched when she felt another inch sank in. "Toji.." she whimpered, her voice was laced with need.

His dark brown eyes flickered up to her face, drinking in the way her lips were parted, brows furrowed as she tried to take him. Goodness.

Toji slid his hands up her body, fingers wrapping around her throat. As he pushed more of himself inside of her, finally bottoming out making her cry out.

"You feel that baby? That's me, all the way inside of this pretty ass pussy. Deep as i can go,"

He pulled back, just enough to watch her face— tears going down her cheeks, chest rising and falling with ragged breath. Just once, he pulled his dick back only to snap his hips forward, just to make her jolt.

"Shit-" she cried out, legs wrapping around his waist.

Toji grinned, rolling his hips slow and deep, making sure she felt every inch dragging against her walls. "'gonna tell boss that 'm a need a couple days off." He watched as the white cream started to build around the base of his dick, making it easy to glide in and out of her.

"Fuck- Toji! you fucking me so good."

"Mhm, that's right, he grunted, his pace picking up, hips slapping against hers. "Say my fuckin' name while I'm deep in this pussy."

"Toji..." she tried to place her hand on his chest, trying to get away from the pleasure surging throughout her body but he wasn't having it.

"Uht uht none of that" he grabbed at her wrists pinning them above her head.

Beads of sweat trickled down his temple as he gave her relentless deep strokes. The bed creaked beneath them, headboard rattling against the wall.

"I'm gonna cum soon, I feel it," Amira whimpered, that dick had her seeing stars. "Oh yeah? You 'gonna cum on this dick?" His hips started to move faster, his rhythm turning erratic.

"Yes! Yes Toji I'm 'finna cum," Amira's voice trembled, as she felt the pleasure coiled tight in her core. A shudder wracked through her, her breath hitched, turning into a strangled moan as waves of ecstasy crashed over her, making her thighs tremble.

Her eyes fluttered, rolling back and her mouth parted in a silent cry before she gasps out, "cumming!" Her walls clenched around him, her body shaking as the intensity of her release stole the air from her lungs.

Toji cursed underneath his breath as his own climax was tearing through him as he buried himself to the hilt, filling her up with his hot, thick ass cum. "Yeah take all this cum, baby. 'M filling you up," his muscles were tensed, his grip on her wrists tightening before he finally let go of them.

He pulled out, watching his cum slowly drip down from out her hole.

A grin tugged at his lips as he leaned in pressing a lazy kiss against her jaw. "Shit, you look so fuckin' good like this, he murmured.

"Think you can go another round, fat booty? 'Cause I got all night."

-kami

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #120

I did so much stuff today!!!!

…Okay, well actually I did only like 3 things today. But these things were very BIG things! I will talk about two of them, and then touch vaguely upon the third!

I will start with this morning! Because J and I went up in the sky in the little airplane today! We went to an airport that had a diner! I got an EPIC BREAKFAST!!! There was steak and eggs and cheddar grits, and I also got a coffee, because I don't get coffee very often, so why not! I took some pictures for you…

This is what J got! It's some kind of breakfast bowl with salsa, avocados, beans, and scrambled eggs! There's also potatoes and bacon under the eggs! I wonder if you'd enjoy something like this. He let me have a few bites; it was really good!

Here is the coffee I got! And, of course I snapped the picture of it while the cream was still swirling around; it's more interesting that way:

Here are some cheddar grits:

Here's the steak and eggs I got; it came with caramelized onions, cornbread and butter, eggs with runny yolks, and a bit of hollandaise sauce! It also came with ketchup for some reason. But I only like it on burgers, so I didn't use it.

I asked for the steak to be as rare as allowed, and I was SUPER THRILLED about the fact that they prepared it in basically the same way I do at home - brown the outside, and leave the inside mostly raw:

It was so good!!! Oh my goodness!

While at the place, I also happened upon a little space with dandelions! I'm not really sure why, but people in my world seem to really hate dandelions. It makes absolutely no sense to me, because in addition to being extremely beneficial to nearby soil for a variety of reasons, every part of the plant is edible and nutritious. One of my favorite things to do, when I can find a safe source of them, is to turn the blooms into a sweet syrup that you can use on pancakes, on ice cream, or in tea! Maybe I'll get to do that this year. For now, I'll just show you the picture I took:

Isn't it pretty? I like them!

I also took a bunch of photos along the way from the airplane window! I'll show you the best ones!

…Hey, Sephiroth? I know you can fly and stuff, and that's pretty cool. But while you're up in the sky, dancing in the clouds, do you make it a point to notice and appreciate all the lovely scenery? If you don't, then maybe you can try it next time; practicing gratitude and appreciation is one of the best ways to exercise your hippocampus until it becomes strong!

On the way home, I saw 9 great big huge birds-of-prey; I think these ones were turkey vultures. I managed to actually catch a picture of one in flight for you! Here, it's not very big in the photo, but check out the back speck in the sky:

Oh!!! Also!!! I finally got around to making the stuffed cabbage casserole today! This recipe was given to me by an awesome person called @freelanceexorcist (thanks be to ye, fren!! 💖)! I ended up modifying it a bit, just to suit the needs of those in my house; Br cannot have gluten, so I used tomato puree in place of tomato soup, and J does not like big cabbage leaves, so I cut it into little slices, and bite-sized bits are easier for M to handle than meatballs, so I kinda just... shredded everything and mixed it all together. But I used mostly the same ingredients, even if the preparation differed just a little! I'll show you what I did…

You start with cabbage!

Here's how it looks on the inside when you cut it in half!! It's pretty cool!

...It's like Brussels sprouts, but WAY bigger!

The recipe calls for whole leaves, but I cut it into shreddy bits, like this:

The cabbage was sauteed in my bacon fat confit garlic:

I poured in a can of tomato puree from there, and I let it simmer on low heat for a couple of hours:

While that was happening, I cut up 2 pounds of kielbasa, and 2 onions:

Once the cabbage was done and set aside, I caramelized the onions in more bacon fat:

I added the onions to the cabbage, and then I put a big can of diced tomatoes, a pound of Bavarian sauerkraut, and the ground meat I cooked the other day into the wok, along with a cup of rice and a can full of some beef bone broth:

I let this sit on very low heat until the rice was done cooking. I used short grain rice; it looks like this:

...In between the long bits of cooking when there was nothing else I could do, I worked on something else that I'm absolutely not going to tell anyone about! It was good!

Once the cabbage and the rice were all done, I combined the two sets of things; this took some doing simply because there was SO MUCH FOOD, oh my goodness!! But this was the result!

So... it's cabbage, caramelized onions, sauerkraut, canned tomatoes, tomato puree, beef bone broth, rice, garlic, kielbasa, ground pork, and ground beef, all cooked up nicely and mixed together in a great big awesome dish!! And it is indeed awesome!! It was said that the leftovers are even better, because the flavors are given a chance to mingle; I can't wait to find out tomorrow!

...I wish you could have been here for all of this. I wish you could be here, generally. My house does occasionally have its challenges, for sure, but still, it is happy, wholesome, and safe. There's lots of fun and interesting stuff to do. My house is a good house. You could find healing and belonging here. You could find growth and change here. And you'd fit right in. You'd fit right in with my social circle, generally; ain't a single one of us fit the definition of "normal".

Sephiroth, c'mon. The darkness doesn't suit you. It never did. And it never will. So step away from people who wanna use and abuse you, and instead step towards the people who wanna help you to feel as though you're enough exactly as you are, without needing to do something useful or amazing first.

I'll be here waiting, so... as impossible as it is, pop by for a visit soon, okay? We'll make you good snacks - all the pasta you could want, or whatever else suits your fancy - whatever you like; if I don't know how to cook it, I can figure it out, easy peasy.

I'm gonna go do other things now, and I'm going to wish you were here as I do them. I love you, and I'll write again tomorrow. Please stay safe.

Your friend, Lumine

[noneedtoamputate]

Chuck/Ellen, #10 😌

Sorry this took so long. I had free time this earlier this month, and then I didn't. The prompt was for the word "monument," and I know a monument should be a more permanent structure than how I used it in the story, but this idea came to me and I decided to go with it. The picture of Skip and Chuck mentioned in the story is the third one down.

November 2, 1967

The front door opened and shut as Ellen checked the cornbread in the oven. 

“Please go tell your brother and sister that supper is ready,” she asked Ron, their middle child, doing homework at the kitchen table. “And don't …”

“SUPPER’S READY!” He closed his textbook and ran off toward his bedroom. 

“ … yell,” Ellen said under her breath.

“Did I hear supper’s ready?” Chuck walked into the kitchen, home from work.

Ellen rolled her eyes and accepted his kiss to her cheek. “Why walk a few steps when you can just scream at the top of your lungs?”

Chuck washed his hands at the sink and Ellen arranged food on the table as the sounds of children grew closer.

“What’s for supper?” asked Ken. At fourteen, he was already taller than Ellen and towered over Ron, only a year younger but who had not yet hit his growth spurt. 

“Chili,” replied Ellen, as she filled a bowl and handed it to Chuck. 

“Ugh, chili? Mom, you know I don’t like it. You always make what the boys want to eat,” Mary complained. At eleven, she already displayed angst usually reserved for teenagers.

“Your mother isn’t running a restaurant,” Chuck said firmly. “Eat it or make yourself a sandwich.”

Mary decided it was easier to eat the chili. She didn’t really feel like making her own supper, and she certainly didn’t want to hear her dad go on about eating K rations in Bastogne or all the hungry kids he went to school with during the depression.

After the boys helped themselves to seconds, Ellen asked the dreaded question.

“What was one thing you learned at school today?”

Sometimes, it was like pulling teeth, getting her children to recall one fact from the day. But tonight, Mary had something to share, much to the relief of her brothers.

“Today is The Day of the Dead,” Mary stated.

“Never heard of it,” Ken said, his mouth full of cornbread.

“It’s a holiday in Mexico. In Spanish, it’s called Dia … de … los … Ma … Mo …”

“Muertos,” finished Ron.

“Show off,” Ken replied. 

“You’d know it too, if you weren’t taking a useless language,” Ron argued.

“French isn’t useless,” Ellen countered. “I’m sure your father would have liked knowing more French when he landed in Normandy.”

“Did just fine with the War Department phrasebook, but thanks for your concern.”

Ken noticed his parents smile at each other and share a look, like they were saying something with their eyes.

 He wondered why they were so weird.

“But we live in San Francisco,” Ron explained. “And it’s pretty dumb to take French just because of a girl in your class. Carla Marconi,” he teased his brother.

“Shut up!” Ken shouted.

“Hey!” Chuck shouted louder. “Knock it off, the both of you.”

Mary continued, completely unconcerned about the ruckus her brothers made.

“It’s a day when you remember family and friends who have died,” she explained.

“Sounds pretty depressing,” Ron said.

“No, you're supposed to remember happy memories, and the good things about them. It's not supposed to be sad.”

“What else?” Ron asked. Ellen looked up. It was unusual for one of the boys to take an interest in what their little sister had to say.

“You decorate an altar, or a table, with pictures of the dead people in your family, and flowers. Teresa Gonzalez explained how everyone in her family helps put it together.”

“That sounds like a beautiful way to remember loved ones,” Ellen commented.

“I told Teresa we had an altar like that at our house, too. Not with the flowers, but with the pictures,” Mary went on.

“We do?” Chuck asked. 

“Yeah, we do,” Ken said, and Ron nodded in agreement. 

The kids stood up and walked toward the family room. Ellen and Chuck looked at each other quizzically and followed. 

Ken, Ron, and Mary stood in front of the built-in bookshelves Chuck and Ellen installed a few years after they bought the house. On the top row, too high to easily reach a book, were framed photos of family and friends.

“Uncle Ken,” Ron said simply, pointing to a picture of Ellen’s brother in his Marine dress blues, his arm around his proud older sister before he shipped out to Korea.

“Mom said he always told the best jokes and was really good at football. There was that time when the starting quarterback got hurt and he went in and threw a touchdown to win the game,” his namesake recalled about the uncle he never had a chance to meet. 

“He would have loved to watch you play,” Ellen said to her oldest son, who played on his JV high school team this past season, and he smiled.

“And there's Skip Muck,” Mary said, his arm around Chuck after they earned their jump wings. “He got his nickname because when he was little, he skipped everywhere. He was the nicest guy in the company, right, Dad?” Chuck nodded, unable to say anything in the moment. 

“Grandma Thompson,” Ron said. A picture of Ellen’s motger, with a young Ellen seated next to her while she held a baby Ken, before she had given up on life.

“I don’t really remember her, and she wasn't the nicest person, but you must have learned something from her because you’re a good mom,” Mary said to Ellen.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” Ellen said, and she felt tears start in her eyes.

“And Grandpa Grant,” Ron continued. Chuck stood next to his dad, mirror images of each other. Chuck looked about sixteen, not long before his father passed away.

“He taught you how to read the box scores and play baseball and loved the Pirates,” Ken said. 

“He drove you and Gran all the way from Pittsburgh when you moved here,” Mary remembered.

Chuck nodded. “I was just a bit younger than you,” he said, remembering that time when his dad had been laid off at the steel mill and they moved to California for the promise of work. He often wondered if he could have been as brave as his father, starting over like that. How many times he wished he could ask his dad for advice, on how to be a good husband or a good father. 

“And there’s Eugene Jackson. He died on that patrol.” Ken pointed at his picture. It was a picture of Second Platoon on the back of a truck, taken after they captured Foy. 

“He was just sixteen when he joined the army. It was the first time in a long time he had three meals a day. He would scarf down everything in front of him, even if the food was terrible,” Ron recalled.

Chuck noticed Ken’s eyes get large, realizing that Eugene was not much older than him when he joined up. He put his hand on his son’s shoulder.  Ellen saw Mary’s eyes glance downwards, perhaps feeling a bit ashamed for complaining about chili when Private Jackson went hungry growing up. 

“He was a good paratrooper. Did everything he was asked and looked out for his squad,” Chuck shared. 

The children looked at the pictures quietly, and Chuck and Ellen looked at each other. They never sat down and shared these stories. They had all come out in bits and pieces. Stories about Skip when the Christensons came over and Chuck and Pat would talk well into the night. Ellen with a passing comment about the difficult relationship with her mother. Happy memories of Ken on Veterans Day. 

The kids had been listening. And they remembered.

Eventually, the boys left to finish their homework and Mary turned on the television to watch The Flying Nun. 

Ellen settled Mary into bed and told the boys it was time for lights out, though she knew the desk lamp would find its way on soon enough.

She finished up in the kitchen and saw Chuck sitting outside on the patio. If asked, most people would have described Chuck as friendly, outgoing, funny. And he was all those things. But he also had a quiet side, and sometimes he needed to be alone with his thoughts, to think things through without the distractions of a business, a wife, three kids. Ellen was more than happy to give him that space and time.

The table cleared, the dishes done, the floor swept, Ellen started the kettle and grabbed a coat and blanket from the hall closet. 

She slid open the patio door.

“Am I interrupting?” she asked.

Chuck shook his head. He loved that Ellen asked, and that if he answered yes, she wouldn't have minded in the slightest. How lucky he was to have someone understand him the way she did.

She sat down next to him, handed him the mug of tea, and laid the blanket over their laps.

They sat quietly, Chuck holding the mug and a cigarette in his right hand. Ellen hadn’t smoked regularly in years, but the smell of Lucky Strikes was comforting. 

It was the smell of Chuck. It was the smell of home.

“Remember when you came back from the doctor’s office after you found out you were expecting Ken?” Chuck broke the silence.

“I do,” Ellen said.

“We were so excited, but I didn't know if I would be able to hack it, and you thought you would turn into your mother.”

She nodded at the bittersweet memory.

He turned to face her.

“I think we’re doing a pretty good job, don’t you think?”

“I do,” Ellen repeated.

“They still have terrible taste in music and their rooms are a mess, but they’re doing okay in the things that really matter.” 

“I read something once that you only live as long as the last person who remembers you,” Ellen said. 

“That's a nice notion,” Chuck said. “It sounds like something Skip would have said.” 

They went quiet again, thinking about their loved ones who would live on just a little bit longer because their children cared enough to know their stories.

[btpbyalison]

Joe + Jon

St. Louis is still a little confused on what season it is.  Some of the leaves are revolting on changing. The weather is warm, with a slight breeze. 

Saturday’s high was supposed to be 65 degrees, but it got up to 78.  I knew my grooms would be wearing snazzy custom suits, and I worried they would be sweating big.

Then I stepped outside and felt that glorious breeze.

I made my way to one of my favorite STL City neighborhoods:  Shaw. 

Upon parallel parking like a champ, I was greeted by Jon.  He looked incredibly handsome in a custom burgundy suit.  Joe followed behind him in his green one.  I gushed a little too much.  

They gave me the dime tour, and I went inside to be greeted by an excited bunch.  Both gents’ families patiently waited as we got organized, and then we were off to the Compton Hill Reservoir.  

We knocked out some family pictures. 

Then the boys lead me up to Jon’s favorite spot, and we let them be extra cute for a bit.

Then we met the sweetest crew of framily.  They blended their love and razzing equally.  And unintentionally coordinated outfits in a beautiful way.

Then it was time to get this party started.  What a way to celebrate a year of marriage.

In true pandemic fashion, Joe and Jon had a St. Louis elopement at the St Louis Wedding Chapel on Broadway.  The original plan was to redo their ceremony, but it ended up being complete perfection for them.  So, a grand Mardis Gras themed party became the plan instead.

And, let me tell you: the good times rolled.

Guests arrived to their backyard to a cocktail hour with passed hors d’oeurvres.  Correction.  Delicious passed hors d’oeuvres.  And of course there were signature cocktails:  Naked & Famous, Coffee Negroni, and a fabulous Autumn Sangria.

So much love and joy filled the fall’s hottest party in South City. When I met with the boys, Jon told me that nobody made the guest list unless they were beating down the door to be there.  They wanted fun.  They wanted framily.  They wanted this night to be nothing but a celebration.

And that is exactly what they got.

In true Mardis Gras fashion, a shrimp and crawfish boil were served alongside hushpuppies, cornbread, and jambalaya.  The spice was just perfection.

Then the dancing.  Y’all.  This crew was such a blast.  No dumb wedding dances here.  Just a bunch of  friends who made sure to get babysitters ready to party with their favorite couple.

This is one I will remember forever. 

Custom suits, Gucci loafers, and Christian Louboutin shoes.  AKA “bloody bottom” shoes, per Joe’s sister. 

My being a walking disco ball.  Or so I was told.

The perfect toast from a bestie.

A precious one from a sister.

Having Joe’s Mama say, “Hey, bestie,” each time I came up to her.

Getting to dance hard.

Phil going in the pool. 

Jon & Joe…thank you for trusting me with this day.  I ADORE how y’all love each other.  The life you both have built…you just deserve it all.  

Joy and love surround you, because that is what you throw like Mardis Gras beads to the world.  Getting to shoot this day (and your “engagement” session) was an honor.  I’m even more thrilled to know I have made new friends.  Much love to you both.  I’m calling y’all for a sushi night after I survive this fall.  Love you both. BIG.

[ragtaghistorian]

[weirdo09]

lumax<3 after s4 vol 2

after max got out of the hospital, lucas wanted to spend all his time with her. most of the time, he’d be asking his parents he could take max out on a date or if she can stay over. they’d give in of course because they know how much he loves her and why not?

today was a very special day since it was the day they officially started dating(the first time). lucas decided to do something very special for the occasion. he’d spot by her house and pick her up. “where are we going this time?” max asked as he was pushing her out of the front door.(she’s in a wheelchair) “it’s a surprise ~.” lucas said teasingly “you know i hate surprises, what is it?” max said impatiently(tho she’s secretly enjoying it) “you’ll just have to wait and see, maxie.” lucas said grinning ear to ear. max huffed but reminded silent the rest of the way there.

once they arrived at their destination(the park), max then groaned “are we here yet?” “yes, let me find a good spot.” lucas said “where are we anyway?” max asked suspiciously “the park!” lucas said excitedly “why are we here for all places?” max says crossing her arms. “to have a picnic, now let me get you out of this wheelchair so you can feel the grass.” lucas said as he begin to pick her up. max grabbed his arms while he held her, slightly leaning her head to his chest.

after lucas gently placed max on the ground, max took the liberty of slightly swiping her hands through the grass. it’s been a good while since she’s even really went out and felt the world around her. while max was doing that, lucas set up the picnic. finger sandwiches, cornbread(baked by him earlier that day), some fruit, fritters and a nice soft blanket. when lucas was finished, he went over to max and gently put a hand on top of hers. “c’mon, i got the picnic set up.” lucas said while guiding max to the picnic blanket.

they ate and chatted for a while. max’s head was in lucas’ lap with her wheelchair close by just in case. “thanks for this, btw.” max said softly “your welcome, maxie.” lucas replied and smiled while playing with max’s hair. “hey, max?” “yea?” max asked “can i do your hair later?” lucas said smirking. “yea, sure can we go?” max asked clearly hiding her content that lucas would do her hair. “yea.” lucas said and he gently placed her in her wheelchair. then, they were off to lucas’ house.

lucas pushed max up the ramp, unlocked the door and went inside.(the sinclairs had a ramp installed for max bcuz they love her dearly) “here we are!” lucas exclaimed “i can smell that.” max said sarcastically “oh, yea what does my house smell like?” lucas teased “home and you.” max said sincerely. lucas smiled and wheeled her to his room. “hey, max!” erica said as they passed her in the hall “hey, erica.” max smiled. erica whispered something to lucas and he wheeled max faster. once they made it to his room, he softly picked her up and placed her on his bed.

“sooo, what do you want to do with your hair?” lucas asked “i don’t care just as long as you don’t make me look ugly, i can’t see it anyway.” max replied “aw, now max you know i could never make you ugly, you’re so cuteee.” lucas teased “just shut up and do my hair!” max huffed while crossing her arms. “alrigh’, cutie patootie.” lucas said as he started to brush her hair.

lucas decided to just do a simple updo. “smile, maxie!” lucas said as he held his new polaroid camera. “uh whatever.” max said as she smiled “there, just like that, good job!” lucas said as he took the picture. he took out the polaroid, shook it and look at it “this is definitely going on my wall.” lucas smirked “wait how do i look? do i look ok? you better have not made me look weird or i swear to god, sinclair!” max threated, wagging her pointer finger at him. “don’t worry, my rose you look beautiful as always!” lucas sent an air kiss to max “ugh, i hate you!” max huffed “you love me~” lucas teased.

max rolled her eyes but the smile on her face said otherwise. “you’re smiling! you do love me!!” lucas exclaimed and went to tackled her “ahhhh!!! LUCAS CHARLES SINCLAIR!!” max yelled as he started to tickle her. they laughed for a bit. “hey, max are you stayin over?” erica barged in. “erica, really?” lucas said in annoyance “what?? momma and dad wanna know so they can fix dinner.” erica rolled her eyes at her brother’s stupidity. lucas then turned to max “well, do you?” he asked “well, it’s better than my house so yea.” max said “uh, ok i’ll tell them i guess they’ll call your mom.” erica said as she walked out the room. they giggled and lucas placed a kiss on max’s cheek. “you’re very pretty, maxie boo<3” lucas said “ughhhh, lucas! stop with the cheesy pet names!” max groaned and started to wipe the kiss off her cheek.

“what do you mean??? you love them!!” lucas said with a hint of fake hurt in his voice. he started to kiss all over max’s face. “you. love. my. pet. names. maxie. boo.!!!” lucas said through each kiss. “ok ok, you win!!!” max exclaimed and lucas grinned hard.

after a while, they went to eat dinner and went to put on their pajamas, max reluctantly put on lucas’ hawkins hoodie because at least it smells like him. they went to cuddle, max’s head was in lucas’ chest and lucas was playing with max’s hair.(almost all my fics have cuddling because i need to feel the void of loneliness) they soon feel asleep, their breathing syncing with one another.(mrs. sinclair knows how to make a good meal, that’s a fact)

erica passed by on her way to the bathroom. she pulled out her polaroid. quickly snapped a pic and giggled away.(she protested that if lucas got a polaroid, she would get one too)

@no-ordinary-demigirl @fruity-cryptid @foodiewithdahoodie @pimplepogue @adorewillbyers @byleriscannonparty @verashalurks @tinylittle-superfan @yelenapines @wibble-wobbegong @crownedstars

[brattyfics]

Like That

Pairing: Rio x Black!Reader

Summary: You and Rio get to know each other better. Loosely based on ‘Like That’ by Doja Cat. 

Warnings: Smut.

Word Count: 3.5K

Installments: Say So | Like That | Talk Dirty

And baby, I want it, and I'll just be honest 'Cause I just can't front when I look at you

About six weeks have passed since Rio declared himself your man, and you quickly learned he took the title very seriously.

He was busier than usual with ‘flipping his game,’ and you were busy preparing to transition your shop, but you saw each other often despite time constraints. You agreed date nights at least once a week were a must, but when you couldn’t see each other, Rio made sure to end nights with a phone call. Virtually falling asleep next to him gave you butterflies, reminding you just how exciting new relationships could be. It took prodding, but he told you made-up bedtime stories and the boring details of his day. In return, you shared things about yourself— childhood memories, the crazy things your mom did to embarrass you. He was sweet and attentive, and you found it refreshing to be with someone who was just as infatuated with you.

On your second date, he took you to his favorite restaurant, a fancy sushi place with expensive rolls. He taught you to hold chopsticks the wrong way the way he did and even fed you across the small table, a couple of unfortunate rolls falling apart due to his prodding. You tried your best to hide your amusement at the pensive look on his face. For whatever reason, Rio thought of himself as a sushi connoisseur, but it was clear to you that he was still learning.

“You’re no better than me!” He admonished when he noticed the way you held your chopsticks. Like his technique, it was incorrect, but it worked for you— sort of. “I never said I was.” You couldn’t keep the amusement off your face any longer. “You’re the one who comes here weekly. I thought you were a professional, and we’re in the same boat.” He folded his arms on top of the table as he insisted you were wrong, but secretly he found your teasing endearing. Later that night, he called and gave you a cheesy line about loving to see you smile.

The following week, you had lunch at a mom-and-pop soul food restaurant that served the best cornbread and peach cobbler in the city. The owners, an adorable older couple, Donna and Gene, and servers alike stopped by your table to meet Rio. Donna gushed over Rio, showering him with compliments and extra cornbread. “Girl, he is cute!” She told you, failing miserably at whispering. He smirked as you rolled your eyes, but he handled the attention well, being friendly and personable even when Gene kept going on and on about changes to the menu, one chef to another.

A few days later, he called you up randomly and asked you to get ready and ride with him somewhere. “What should I wear?” You asked, hoping for a hint. You could hear him smile as he said, “It doesn’t even matter, ma. You always look good.” The occasion had turned out to be ‘Foodtruck Friday.’ Barbecue, kebab, taco, ice cream, and other miscellaneous food trucks were parked in a spacious lot in Downtown Detroit. You settled at a picnic table and shared several plates of food as you discussed the possibility of your own mobile ‘Mad Batter’ shop somewhere down the line. It got you thinking about the future.

“Where do you see yourself in five years?” You asked the dreaded question in between bites of a colorful Korean fusion taco. He stiffened as he considered the answer. “What is this, a job interview?” Sometimes you saw peeks of bossman Rio rather than the Christopher Castillo you were getting to know. It happened seemingly out of nowhere when you asked questions he felt were invasive.

You looked up from the panko-fried shrimp, red cabbage, shredded carrots, and tasty orange sauce wrapped up in a flour tortilla with a frown. You had two choices: respond in the way he had or make light of the situation. So, you said, “Kinda. You’re auditioning for a spot on my roster, so...”

He stopped chewing the half-eaten dumpling and swallowed hard. “That’s not funny.”

“You better start taking the interviewing part of the audition more seriously then.” You wiped your fingers on a napkin, and he gathered your hand in his own, wearing a look you couldn’t decipher. “You got it, ma.”

You played a game of mini-golf at the local arcade. Rio stood tall behind you, holding you by your hips as he corrected your stance. You purposefully arched your back, brushing against him just slightly. “Like this?” You looked over your shoulder with the most innocent look you could muster, but his eyes were glued to your ass. “Yeah, just like that.” He answered in a low tone without looking up. You giggled as you took your swing, adding a wiggle for his benefit. You pretended to care about the ball as it glided across the bright green tarp towards the hole. “How was that?” You chirped, looking down the lane.

“I can’t even lie. I don’t care about the game right now. I just wanna watch you.” Your aim was terrible, and the ball never went in the hole without several attempts, but he insisted you finish playing the course. You teased him about it for days after despite his claim that he actually enjoyed the game because it was one of Marcus’ favorites.

“Stop lying! You just wanted an excuse to openly watch my ass.”

“Why you always gotta call me out?”

You shopped a cozy health and wellness store with hundreds of cool little trinkets for sale. Neither of you had been there before, so you took your time exploring, stealing unexpected kisses from the other. Rio took full advantage of the size of the store, pulling you by the hand and holding you close to his side.

He frowned at the large collection of shiny crystals. “A rock, really? What does anybody need with a rock?”

“It’s not a rock!” You hissed, head whipping around as you hoped the owner didn’t hear him.

“What is it then? It looks like a rock to me.” He picked one up, turning it over in his hands.

“It’s a crystal!”

“What’s the difference?”

“It has healing properties...” Rio snorted but strung his arm across your shoulder and listened intently as you read the info cards to him. When it was all said and done, he bought an aventurine stone to apologize to the owner for prosperity, well-being, and good luck.

The next day, he disappeared with no warning. You had been worried sick until Mick let you know he was busy handling something. It would have only taken a minute to tell you that, so you were (understandably) pissed. He showed up at the shop several days later like nothing had ever happened. “What’s up, mama?” The greeting that usually melted you grated on your nerves. All of your feelings about the situation bubbled up to the surface. It was hard to find the right words— you were still getting to know each other, so how mad could you be? At the same time, how little did he think of you to not say anything? Finally, you settled on, “I can’t do the disappearing act.”

Rio wasn’t used to answering to anyone, not even his child’s mother, about his whereabouts, but he put his palms up in surrender when he saw the serious expression you wore.

“You’re right, mama. That’s my bad. It won’t happen again.”

And it hadn’t.

But knowing ahead of time only made it a tiny bit easier, especially when he didn’t have a set return date. You were going on day seven (the longest you had gone without seeing him since you started dating) when he called to say he made it home and wanted to see you. Your heavy heart swelled with relief. You missed him way more than you probably should have, so you insisted on a night in at your place, wanting him to feel relaxed and at home instead of on guard somewhere public.

It had been a long six weeks without sex while he romanced you with delicious food and beautiful words. It wasn’t an easy task, but you knew as soon as sex was thrown in the mix, you would be done for, either destined to be his or ruined by him. It was a scary thought, but distance had indeed made the heart grow fonder, and you cared about him enough to take a chance.

He was set to arrive within the hour, but you were still unsure of what to wear, frantically rummaging through the dresser for something cute and comfortable. You let out a frustrated groan when your phone started to ring, thinking Rio might have come early, but when you look down at your phone, you see your best friend’s name and face. You swipe quickly, accepting the FaceTime call. “Hey, girl!”

“Hey, stranger!” You pick up the phone, so you can look at her. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” She replies with just as much sass. “I haven’t talked to you in what— two weeks?”

“We talk—“

“—text.”

“Okay, fine. Text. We text every day. What are you talking about?”

“That’s not the same.” She insists even as you remind her of the ridiculous amount of time you spend trading memes and food pictures with her.

“Anyway, what are you doing?”

“I’m trying to decide what I’m going to wear between this, this, or this.” You move the camera around, showing her the different options. A black-and-white tank and short set with ‘Being cute is not a crime’ in a cute font. A fuzzy grey sweatsuit set with hearts, or a simple cream hoodie with matching shorts.

“Um, what’s the occasion?” You giggle at the look on her face, knowing she thinks none of the above are appropriate for wearing outside of the house.

“Movie night in.”

“You need help picking an outfit for movie night with yourself?” Her face scrunches up in confusion. “Wait, is it movie night with yourself?” You try to be casual about it, shrugging your shoulders in response. As usual, she sees through your bullshit and goes straight into an interrogation. “Oh, bitch. You been holding out on me!” She asks you five questions in a row without stopping to breathe before settling on one. “Who?”

You gnaw on your bottom lip. “...Rio.”

“Rio?” She frowns. “Like the guy we work for, Rio? With the eyebrows and the neck tattoo, Rio?”

“Yes, that Rio.”

“Wow.” You wince but decide it’s best to get it over with. “What? I know you, so I know there’s more where that came from.”

“I don’t know what to say! From what I can tell, he’s a decent dude, I guess, but you know what he does. You definitely know what we do for him! You don’t think that could be a problem?”

“It’s messy, for sure, and I can admit that, but I’ve been thinking about getting out anyway...” She nods. “Then, I guess there’s nothing else for me to say about that. You’re both grown, and you know what you’re doing.” She was your best friend, which meant she’d always give her honest opinion, but wouldn’t berate you about your choices. Just like that, you return to your regular discussion topics, everything from warehouse gossip (yes, even in the business of crime, there’s a rumor mill) to new music releases. Before you knew it, forty minutes had passed, and Rio was calling your phone. You promised to call her more often before hanging up.

You sing your ‘hello’ into the phone, hoping Rio can’t detect the shakiness in your voice as you clumsily pull on your bottoms.

“Hey, mama. You about ready? I know you’re sensitive about your space and all that.” He was referring to the fact that he had never been past the doorway of your home. Your home was your sacred place, so you were extra careful about who came in and what energy they brought. It was always nerve-wracking to let somebody into the space that you cherished so much.

“Yeah.” He picks up on the hesitancy in your voice. “Are you sure?” You nod your head as if he can see you before telling him yes with a giggle. “Alright, well, I’m outside. Can I come in?” You bite your lip, butterflies fluttering in your tummy. “Yeah, I’ll come unlock the door.” He whispers his thanks, and you take a moment to force yourself to relax. When you meet him at the door, you do so with an open mind and heart, taking in his appearance with a goofy grin on your face. As usual, he’s dressed in all black, wearing a well-fitted t-shirt and sweatpants. He’s casual but still so high quality and attractive.

“Hi.” You breathe out like a dork when you realize you’re staring. It helps that he seems just as mesmerized, stepping forward to envelop you in a tight, warm hug. He sways you from side to side before pulling back, his hands resting heavily on the top of your ass. He settles for a quick peck on the lips because he has something to say. “You’re as pretty as ever, darlin’.” He says earnestly, shaking his head as he steps back to look you over once more.

“Kiss me again.” His hands cup your ass as you devour each other in the open doorway. You forget your surroundings. “Damn, ma. Can I at least get inside before you jump my bones? I don’t mind giving your neighbors a show if that’s your thing, but…” You turn to hide your embarrassment, leaving him to close the door behind you as you gesture around the room as if you’re in an episode of MTV Cribs. “... here’s the living room. The kitchen’s through the arch. The bathroom’s over there...” He follows you with his red as you point.

“And the bedroom?”

You snort. “The tour stops here for now. Sit down.” Your tone leaves no room for argument. He settles into the soft couch while you grab the snack tray from the kitchen. Homemade popcorn, chocolate-covered pretzels, and dried fruit gummies are on the menu.

“All this for me?” His arms snake around your waist so that you can curl up into his side. “What we watching?” You grab the remote. “I saw a trailer this week that caught my attention. I’ll play it for you.” He didn’t care what you watched as long as he got to be close to you, so it didn’t take long for you to get the movie started. He stole glances at you when his knuckles brushed against your bare knees under the blanket. You’re embarrassed at how wet the small action makes you, so you stretch out across the couch and place your bare feet in his lap, silently planning your revenge. The movie may as well not be playing because you couldn’t be less interested in the plot as you lightly stroke him through his sweatpants with the balls of your feet.

“Ma...” He warns, watching you in the low lighting. He’s come to learn you like to tease, but he doesn’t think he can take it, not tonight. “Hmm?” You hum innocently, loving the strained look on your face. He doesn’t move even as you sit up on your haunches and kiss him. It’s slow and long in the best way. He pulls you to sit in his lap. His hands roam your body as you grind down onto him, relishing in the feeling of the soft skin on your tummy. He sighs into your mouth as one hand finds your bare breasts.

He pulls away to talk shit. “No bra? You just knew I was gonna put out, huh?” He pushes the cotton material up so he can see you properly. “Perfect.” He murmurs into your skin. You let him kiss and lick and suck on your nipples until the pressure you feel below is too much to handle. You’re a quivering mess when he finally helps you pull the cotton material up and over your head. It lands on top of the television behind you, but neither of you notice.

You nudge him until he removes his own shirt, and then he lifts his hips to help you when you begin tugging on his sweats. They puddle at his feet while you spread your legs wide, desperate to get your hands on him. “I could cry right now.” You admit honestly when you finally see him, biting your lip. He arches a brow. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing, darlin’?” His hips jerk when you take him into your hands, the cold temperature surprising him.

“It’s definitely a good thing.” You whisper excitedly, staring with wonder as he hardens in your hands. He barks out a laugh, stunned by your ability to make him laugh, even with his dick in your hands. “That’s really nice, ma. I feel real special.” Your eyes meet, and silent promises of all the filthy things you’re going to do to each other are exchanged. “You should. I’m about to change your life.” He throbs in your hands, loving that you find small ways to challenge him.

“Come on. Let’s go to bed.” He wraps his arms around you in preparation to get up, but you stop him with a shake of your head. “I don’t wanna.”

“No? What you wanna do then?”

You answer him by slipping to your knees. You spit on his dick, stroking him up and down slowly. He watches you closely as you lower your mouth, wrapping your lips around the tip. It takes a lot of restraint, but he lets you do your thing, slowly working him deeper into your throat. He closes his eyes as he concentrates on lasting, but he can’t turn his ears off, the obscene smacks painting a vivid picture for him. When you swipe your tongue across his balls, he moves to stop you, grabbing your shoulders. Fire dances in your eyes as you realize you got him where you want him. “I don’t wanna.” You repeat.

“You are a brat.”

You release him with a pop. “The biggest.” You admit, swallowing him once more. He groans, thinking he can’t believe you’re the same sweet girl who bakes in a frilly pink apron and begs him to tell her bedtime stories.

“I want you to fuck me now.” He stops you before you can bend over the couch. “Slow down. I want you on your back, darlin.”

You throw his earlier words back at him. “That’s nice. I feel really special.”

“You should.” He mocks you, instructing you to hold your legs wide. He wastes no time licking and sucking you as enthusiastically as you had done him. “You’re so pretty. I could eat this pretty pussy forever.” He compliments as you squirm in his hold. “You’d let me, huh?” You shake your head frantically. “No! You’d drive..me crazy!” Payback is a mother, especially when Rio’s the one dishing it out. “Wait, wait—“You whimper, clawing at his shoulders.

“What?” He cajoles. He almost wants to laugh at the distressed look on your face. “I want you.” You pout, trying to sweet-talk him.

“You have me.”

“Not like this. Inside.”

“Yeah? You sure?”

“Mhm.” You swallow, watching as he fumbles around with his pants searching for a condom. He opens the golden foil packet with expert fingers, positioning himself in between your spread legs. “You don’t have any pointers for me now?” He drags his tip up and down your slit, slowly pushing his way further. Teasing. You shake your head. “No. Just fuck me.”

“That ain’t polite. You gotta say please, mama.” You scowled, but he didn’t budge. “Please.” You pleaded with the sweetest tone you could muster, sighing as he gave in. You cursed at the stretch, him at the way you squeezed him. “You feel…” He couldn’t find the words, so he buried his face in your neck, trying to gain some composure. You caressed the back of his neck sweetly. “You feel good too, baby.”

His hips stuttered forward, and you gasped as he worked himself deeper. You grasp his shoulders tightly, your nails embedding themselves into the soft skin.

“Yes!” You squeal.

“Like that?” He grits out, struggling to keep his rhythm.

“Yes, just like that!” You cry, moaning as he pounds up into you. His lips find yours again, and it’s bliss. Then before you can stop yourself, you’re calling him Daddy like it’s his given name. He groans into your sweaty neck like he’s in pain.

“You’re so nasty.” Overwhelmed and breathless, you whine your protest, “You’re nasty. Look at what you’re doing to me.” His eyes shift to where you’re connected. You’re creaming all over him and leaking down onto the couch, but you can’t bring yourself to care about anything other than coming. You do just that, mewling as you make an even bigger mess between your legs. He whispers filthy things into your ear as he finishes, grunting at the way you seem to be sucking him in even deeper.

“That was—“

“—unreal.”

“Yeah.”

Neither of you can bring yourself to move. Your sweat-covered skin sticks together. You swipe your hand against your forehead while he pants.

“I wanted to ride you at least once tonight, but after that, I’ll be lucky to make it to bed.”

GENERAL TAGLIST

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RIO TAGLIST

@xsweetdellzx​

[tnystrk-exe]

we both know how this song ends 5

Jack Daniels x Reader

Masterpost

Previous Chapter

Warnings: drugging and sexual assault

Chapter Five

Dinner was sizzling on the stove. You had set Jack to make the biscuit dough for the cobbler as you cooked. Grabbing the berries, you tossed them all together into a bowl, cornstarch and lemon juice quick to join them.

Jack was humming a gentle tune. It had been a serene day. The two of you had skipped out on school. It wouldn’t be anything interesting today. Most people didn’t go to school homecoming day anyway, he had said. Instead you grabbed everything you needed for tonight and made Jack stop by the grocery store to make the senior Daniels surprise dinner.

“Sweetheart, I could get used to this,” Jack sighed contently, pressing a kiss to the side of your head.

“Oh?” You gave him a soft smile.

“Mhm.” He stole a stray strawberry from the container, “Want one?” You scoffed lightly at him, but opened your mouth expectantly all the same. He traced it along your bottom lip before feeding it to you, eyes trained on the scene. “Give me a taste…” Jack’s hand traced along your jaw before pulling you in for a kiss.

You moaned softly, letting him take over. Happy to let him take what he had wanted. Only breaking away from the kiss when you finally decided breathing was vital, taking in short quick breaths. Not one to leave him hanging, you pressed a couple kisses along his jaw. He stopped you, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before resting his own against it.

A brief moment of bravery struck. “I could get used to this too.” Those weren’t the exact words others would say, but they were weighty enough for you.

Jack gave you a pleased smile. “I’m glad, baby.”

You had to move away from him, taking the stakes off the skillet before they had a chance to burn. Jack scooped the berries into a pan and added his dough to the top of it. Settled back into your task, it had been quick work to finish up dinner. The timing was immaculate. As Jack spooned the mashed potatoes into a bowl and you finished the cornbread, both the older Daniels walked into the home.

“That smells delicious!” Mrs. Daniels exclaimed, “You didn’t have to do that, YN.”

You gave her a hug, “It’s the least I could do. Jack and I were bored anyway. Besides, my buddy pal over there was practically begging for the cobbler all week.”

“And you made it didn’t you, Bug?” Mr. Daniels said smugly, ruffling your hair fondly.

Jack smiled at the three of you. He was happy you got along with his parents. It was always a noticeable change when they were around. Maybe they just gave you a taste of what you had missed he had decided. At least he had hoped they did. He wrapped an arm around you proud he had waited to bring such a great person to bring home to them.

“We should get ready for our date.” He hummed as his parents went to get cleaned up. “Can’t wait to see you all dolled up.”

“And I can't wait to see you in a classy pair of jeans,” you teased him. “C’mon I should start fixing up my face anyway.”

“And you’ll absolutely love the way they look on me,” he responded unfazed. All the same he grabbed your hand and led you up the stairs. “There’s nothing that could make you prettier.”

You grabbed your makeup bag and sat in front of his standing mirror. Jack turned on the music, opting to just lay on his bed and relax. All he really had to do is a clean up shave anyhow. Maybe a quick nap wouldn’t be too bad either. He didn’t know how long you’d take or want to bother you as you worked.

After a while, you straddled his thighs, excited to show him your work. His soft snores filled up the room. “Jack,” you half whined, bouncing lightly as you did, “Wake up.”

“‘M up, babygirl. I’m up. ” he sighed sleepily as he placed his hands on your hips to still you. Taking a good look at you, he smiled, his thumbs rubbing circles against your hips. “You look so beautiful, sugar. How’d I get so lucky?”

“You’re really cute trying to butter me up.”

“Cute enough for a kiss?”

“And there’s your motive.” You shifted closer to press a chaste kiss to his lips, already moving to get off of him. “You can have a better kiss if you go get dressed for me.”

“Uh uh. You’re not getting away that easy.” Jack moved, easily pinning you underneath himself. He pushed a strand of hair away from your face. “May I?”

“Always the gentleman,” you breathed out jokingly.

You caught him in a kiss. Your heart was already pounding away in your chest, it had never taken much with him. He trailed a hand along your thigh before hooking your leg over his waist. Taking your time, you kissed along his neck before sucking a possessive mark onto his favorite spot, your hands working on the buttons of his shirt pushing it off the second it came loose. Jack let out a too loud groan, enjoying the feel of your lips on him. Gladly making it known that you were a weak spot for him too.

“Now,” you pushed him off a bit, keeping your hands pressed against his chest so he wouldn’t try to steal a kiss from you, “Go get dressed.” You had stressed each word with a kiss along his jaw.

He hung his head against your chest, leaving a kiss there. “You’re one to talk about motives.” With a sigh he got off of you. Grabbing his clothes from the closet, he spared himself a quick glance in the mirror. “Baby…” he chuckled, “Was all this really necessary?”

You laughed, getting a good look of how your lipstick had smeared onto him. “I could definitely get used to that. It’s a cute look on you.”

“Remind me to take you on more dates,” he commented before he walked out of the room, making sure to shut the door behind himself. “Mom! Jesus Christ!”  You heard him startle.

A sigh. “You’re not allowed alone in the rooms anymore. Especially when your dad and I are home.”

“That’s fair,” you heard him reply, almost picturing his bright blush, “Anything else?”

“Go get that lipstick off of your neck.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You fell back against his bed, pretty sure you could feel physical pain through the embarrassment. A knock sounded against the door.

“YN, dear? Do you need help with anything?”

“Uh, no. I just need to get dressed,” you winced at the wording, “Thank you. I’ll be right down.”

“If you need anything, just call for me.”

Hearing her walk away, you stood up and started stripping down. You took the time to make quick adjustments to the makeup Jack had ruined. Sure you may have had a hand in that, but it felt better to place the blame on him. Your eye caught sight of the Polaroid on his dresser.

Biting your lip you weighed the options. You knew he wouldn’t share it around if you did so happen to take a picture. He was easy to trust like that.

Why the fuck not?

You grabbed his Polaroid and set it on to a self timer. The sensual pose you had been going for broken as you laughed at the ridiculousness of it. Grabbing the photo you looked at the fading in picture. It didn’t look too bad. If you were honest he’d probably like this version better anyhow. He was a softie. Going to the closet you hid it in the pocket of his favorite shirt, figuring he’d find it soon enough.

“Hey, babydoll, have you seen my tie?” Jack asked, walking into the room. He was unaware of the situation, preoccupied with fastening his shirt buttons.

A quick look in the closet, you saw it hanging on the rod. You grabbed the tie and handed it over. He finally looked up, his eyes widening when he noticed your current state. You didn’t miss his eyes doing a quick once over before he looked away, bright blush covering his now freshly shaved cheeks. Not the mustache though, you doubted you’d ever see him without it unless you gave him an extremely good reason.

“Fuck… I’m sorry. I honestly wasn’t trying to catch you…”

“It’s okay. I trust you, sunshine. While you’re here, you may as well wait up and help me zip up my dress. It’s the least you could do after giving yourself a free show,” you teased him.

“Y’know, I shouldn’t feel too terrible. Let’s say I had taken you on a swimmin’ date instead…” He trailed off, letting you fill in the blanks, back at ease seeing you hadn’t been upset.

“Uh huh, keep telling yourself you would have gotten a look at the goods anyway. Learn to knock, perv.”

You pulled on the simple cocktail dress. The navy blue of it matched up with Jack’s tie well enough. It was a dress you had had for a while, but it was pretty enough to pass through the event. You turned your back to Jack. He moved your hair to the side, fingers trailing against the lacy fabric, before obliging and zipping up your dress.

“You realize you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen?” He asked, looking at you through the mirror, resting his chin on your shoulder, “Stop rolling your eyes when I’m trying to be sweet on you.”

“I know, I am,” you turned in his arms, facing him, “let me help you with that.” You took his tie from off his shoulder and placed it on his neck. “May mess it up a bit, it’s been a while.”

“You know how to?” He asked, letting you do it for him.

“Dad taught me a couple things. Said it was a useful skill if I had a son, but mostly he was just lazy as all hell. That man hated ties.” You pulled the knot toward his throat, catching his slight wince, “Too tight?”

“Just a little,” he loosened it slightly. Jack pressed a kiss to your cheek. “Wouldn’t know what to do without ya.” He stepped past you as you started to fuss with your hair, reaching up into the closet.

You snorted quietly when you realized what it was. “I can’t believe I’m dating a cowboy with a formal occasion hat and boots.”

“Get used to it baby, eventually we’ll get you to my level too.” Jack sat his hat on your head, “See? That’s fucking hot.”

You laughed, “Why don’t we snap a picture then?”

“I’d love that, sweet girl.” He kissed your cheek, looking at the already set up camera, “That’s weird. I don’t usually misplace things.”

You ignored his cocked brow, resetting the timer. “Welp, there’s a first time for everything.”

“Hm, I guess there is…” He didn’t push it, instead opting to pull you in close for the picture.

“Bubba! Bug! Y’all gonna spend all night up there?” Mr. Daniels called out. “We’re getting impatient here.”

You held out his suit jacket for him to slip on. “C’mon cowboy, lot more of those where that came from,” you said, putting the hat on his head, careful not to mess up his hair.

The two of you walked down the stairs hand in hand. Mr. Daniels was already snapping pictures the second you stepped into view.

“Don’t the two of you look precious!” Mrs. Daniels gushed excitedly. “Too bad your mother isn’t here to see the two of you.”

“Mare,” he shook his head slightly. “You two clean up nice. Good going, kids. Matching and everything.”

“Already had the dress,” you informed, hoping to glaze over the mom bit,  “We took more time finding Jack’s tie than anything. I do think he looks extremely handsome.”

Jack blushed brightly. “You’re not too bad yourself.”

Bess looked over lazily from the couch, unimpressed with the commotion.

His parents fussed over pictures excitedly. From what you had gathered, Jack had decided to skip past all the other dances. No particular reason, but he had just preferred going out with his friends instead. Which made Jack asking you to go all that much sweeter to you.

“Okay, okay. You took enough pictures. There’s enough proof we went on a date now,” Jack complained, “Anymore with you two and we won’t make it to the dance at all.”

“Just a few more,” his mom persuaded.

“Mare, why don’t we go take these to the store to get them developed? We already wasted a whole roll on them.”

“Sounds great!” Jack went to hug his mom, “You’ll get some more of us when prom rolls around.”

She sighed, but nodded, “Fine, go have some fun.”

Jack turned, winking at you as he did. “We will!”

You followed Jack out the door. “Really bold of you to assume we’ll have our prom pictures together. Never thought I had other plans?” you asked, messing with him.

“Aw, baby, you got plans to break my heart?”

“Who knows what could happen, Sunshine.”

Jack wrapped his arm around your waist, “Ain’t nothing gonna happen to us. Won’t let it. You’re gonna stick by my side way past prom.”

You shook your head, smiling all the same. “Why are you so sweet on me?”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Hm,” he leaned on his truck, still keeping you close, “I don’t know, sweetheart. You just genuinely make everything better. Just knowing I get to see you on those no good days makes me push through. You’re so kind and genuine even after… everything. As cheesy as it sounds, I kinda do like the idea of getting to wake up to you everyday.”

You blushed brightly, not really expecting that answer. “Everyday?”

“As many as we can fit in darlin’. Wouldn’t be so bad would it? Waking up to my ugly mug.”

“It may take some convincing.”

“I’m plenty patient.”

You couldn’t help the smile, pleased at how he took it in stride. Anyone else would have been upset at hearing that. “How are you always so sure, Daniels?”

“Can’t help it. I know the job I’m gonna work and I know exactly who I want with me. I’m on this ride as long as it takes.”

“C’mon. We’re going to be late sweet talker.”

He opened your door for you, stealing himself a kiss before you could get in the cab. “I mean it, YN.”

All you could manage was a nod. As good as he made you feel, it was still scary. Trust was hard. Commitment is a nightmare. Even if this was going well, you had to keep yourself straight. It had only been a couple months. You were both in your first real relationship, which meant it had to have a touch too sweet and just a bit too perfect. And those rose colored glasses may have skewed the both of you.

But Jack was never pushy. He never pulled away from the too jagged edges, even when they did cut into him. Never put off by the few times you pushed him away. He’d give you your time, let you breathe and you loved that.

You loved that.

The thought alone sent a shiver down your spine. The idea of love and Jack always did. Glancing his way, you knew he was nervous, judging by the way his finger rapt against the steering wheel. Nothing else betrayed him except for that. If you had to guess, how forward he always was with his words always left him somewhat scared that they’d make you run off.

“Jack.”

“Hmm, yeah babygirl?”

“You know how much I care about you right? Even if I do choke saying sweet things back at you.”

The tapping stopped. He gave you a bright smile, “‘Course I do. You let me know with the little things. Those are better than any words.”

Crossing the bench, you leaned your head on his shoulder. “I don’t know when, but I promise one day I’ll be able to.” It was easier to say looking at the passing by trees.

“We’re going at your pace, darlin’. Just knowing is enough.”

“You just come from something so perfect. Sometimes I’m afraid you’ll think I don’t fit into the picture. It’s stupid because you’re so on your sleeve about everything, but I can’t help it sometimes. We’re just so different.”

“But those differences will make us all that much better,” he rebutted in his usual optimistic manner, “I wouldn’t have you any other way. Or this for that matter. It’s good. I’m happy with you.”

“This is such a heavy topic for our first date,” you acknowledged the ridiculousness of the situation. “I’m sorry.”

“No. Don’t apologize. It’s something you’re worried about and we should talk about these kinds of things. Besides, we’ve basically been dating since the first week of school,” he joked, “Look, we’ve been going at this for nearly two months now. Still new, but definitely over the awkward parts. Don’t worry about it.”

“We can talk about things you’re worried about too, you know.”

He sighed, “Honey, you know exactly what it is I’m worried about. Like you say, it’s a couple of months now. I can promise you, I’m not worried about us at all. It’s just that.”

“I’ll be okay,” you promised, “With the gig after school and everything. I’m gonna have a decent stockpile. I’ve been thinking about getting out of there soon enough.”

He squeezed your thigh, his thumb tracing pattern on your skin, “Yeah, I know. The faster you’re out of there, the easier I get to sleep at night. It’s hard not knowing if you’re safe.”

“We’re never safe, Jack,” you sighed, “You don’t have to worry every second we’re apart. I don’t want to be something like that for you.”

“You’re not just that,” he waved off the idea, “But you wouldn’t like it much if I was in your position instead.”

“And then you’d understand that I don’t want to feel like a burden.”

He parked the truck. “Honey, you’re not a burden. If anything, I’m gonna be the burden with how bad I dance.”

“As if. You’re good at nearly everything you do.”

“Nearly?”

“I’m obviously the better kisser in this dynamic.”

“Oh, obviously,” he mocked back, “Get out of my truck.”

You complied, he was quick to join you, giving your hand a gentle squeeze when he took it in his, already leading you toward the dance hall.

“Come on, admit it.”

“Fuck you.”

“You’d like that anyway.”

“I would!”

You laughed at his eagerness, “Who knows where this night could lead, cowboy.”

“Wait, what? Rea-“

“YN!” Georgia squealed excitedly, “You look so pretty! Is that your boyfriend?”

“Georgie!” You hugged her, “He won’t be anymore if you wanna give me a shot. You look jaw dropping.”

“Let me see how it plays out with Sammy. If it’s a dead end I’ll give you a call.”

“I’ll wait up,” you sent a playful wink her way.

“Yeah, I brought you a drink just like you like and I brought some fruit punch for YN,” you heard Vanessa’s sickeningly sweet voice behind you. “Why don’t you have a taste? If it’s not right I’ll make you another.”

“I should get going before Sammy misses me, maybe you’ll save me a dance lover girl.”

“I’ll do that,” you laughed.

You turned to see Jack gulping down a cup. “Yeah, see. It’s perfect thanks.”

“I’m going to go get you another one.”

“No, it’s okay.” His response fell in deaf ears as she turned to go make him another. “That’s the grossest thing I’ve ever had in my life.”

“Got yourself a barmaid?”

“The best I could do seeing you get all friendly with Georgia,” he drank the other cup trying to chase away the taste, “I wasn’t thinking about competition.”

You pulled him by the tie, toward the dance floor. “There’s no competition when I’ve only got eyes for you.”

“Aw, doll, that’s sweet.” He kissed your cheek. “Check this.”

You jumped along to the music, watching him dance. “Oh no,” you laughed, “You’re already a dad. That’s horrible. I love it.”

He smiled brightly at you, “Knew you would.”

The two of you danced happily, enjoying each other’s company. Jack had a lot of potential as a dancer, but your doubts rose when he broke out with the sprinkler. Eventually you ended up in a mixed up of your friend groups. Laughter and snuck in drinks passed all around. Which meant Jack had to struggle down a couple more of Vanessa’s concoctions, too polite to turn them down despite hating the taste.

“I’m cashing in my dances!” Georgia shouted over the music, stealing you away from Jack. “I’ll bring her back after a few.”

It hadn’t been long. Maybe two songs at most. Still, you just couldn’t seem to find Jack. You doubted he had gone far the dance hall was only so big.

“Hey Mikey, have you seen the cowboy?”

“Jack? I saw him with Vanessa. Seemed kinda out of it.”

“I saw them go outside,” Julie cut in.

“What?” You hurried to go see what was happening.

“Jackie boy’s in trouble.”

The group laughed.

Outside you looked toward the car lot. No one but a pack of stoners. Rounding the building, you called out for Jack.

“Can’t,” you heard him slur, “Don't want to.”

“It doesn’t matter to me.”

You could have sworn you heard the sound of a belt unbuckling. “Hey!” You ran, “What the hell are you doing to him.” Rounding the corner, you caught her with a hand stuffed down his pants.

Jack didn’t seem all there but he was definitely distressed. “No baby, please. I didn’t…”

Anger bubbled in your chest. It took over and you pushed Vanessa to the ground already aiming punches at her. There wasn’t much of a fight, she was too much coward to do anything. Even in his state and what had happened, he still attempted to pull you away.

“I never want to see you near him again. You get near him again and that’s it for you.” You only complied because you knew you needed to get him to the truck before he turned to completely dead weight. “You’re a fucking piece of filth.” You called out after her as she ran away.

“Baby, I didn’t want her to. I didn’t ask her to do anything,” he rambled, needing you to believe him.

“Hey, I know. I know. Let’s get you to the truck.” You readjusted his pants and belt to save him the embarrassment if anyone had seen him.

He slumped against you, dragging his feet. You should have taken better care of him. Jack would have kept an eye out for you, he always did. Instead you just assumed he was having fun, glazing over the signs that he wasn’t okay. Avoiding the group, he wouldn’t want people to see him like this, he was too proud, you finally got him to the truck.

“I don’t feel good,” he choked.

“I know, sunshine. I’m sorry. I’ll get you somewhere safe,” you kissed the side of his head before helping him into the truck.

You didn’t really know how to handle the situation. It was a first. Much less did you expect Jack of all people to be in this situation. Honestly, you saw a different outcome for this night. When you jumped back in the truck, you reached into his suit pocket and grabbed his keys.

“Oh,” you took in how tired and rough he looked, “Come here, honey.” You helped him lay down across the bench, his head resting on your thigh. His hat was missing, you made a note to get him a new one.

Obviously, taking him home was out. His parents would probably think he’s out of it drunk, you couldn’t deal with giving them that disappointment of finding out what happened not from him. Your house was laughable. That left the cheap motel across the street from the mom and pop shop. It was the best you could do.

When you parked in the lot, Jack seemed very dazed. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

He nodded weakly.

You got out of the truck and dealt with the motel worker. She handed over a key, looking too tired and overworked to even think about doing more than the transaction.

“Ground rules. Don’t be too loud, if you’re caught selling anything at all I’m calling the cops, and you’re out by 1 p.m. tomorrow.”

“Got it,” you waved her off. Before you made it back to Jack, you unlocked the room door. It would make things easier in the long run. “Hey, handsome, let's get you in the room.”

He groaned, but sat up. “You trust me? Right? You know I didn’t ask her to touch me?”

“Look,” you gave him a chaste kiss, “I trust you more than anyone. She’s not a good person. You don’t have to worry about me thinking anything bad about you. Now, help me get you inside so we can get you through this.”

Jack stood on shaky legs, letting you lead him to the room. When you got in, Jack immediately slumped down into the bed. “I’ll pay for it. My fault.”

“This isn’t your fault. You trusted her and she abused that. We take care of each other, right?” You sat down beside him. “How are you feeling?”

“Keep coming in and out. Nauseous to hell and back. Everything feels so...lagged behind. It feels like a horrible high.”

“Would you mind if I ran to the store? I could grab us a couple of waters, maybe some pills. I don’t know. Something to help. Be useful some.”

“I’ll be alright. I do think I’m going to sit in the bathroom.”

With that, you ran across the street to the store. The older man gave you a disgruntled look for coming in on closing time, but otherwise said nothing. Grabbing a basket, you made your way down the aisles as quick as you could. Sodas, waters, pain pills for him to take in the morning, a couple of snacks, a set of toothbrushes and toothpaste, and some shirts and shorts for both of you to change into. Once that was over and done with, you went back to the motel, leaving the items on the small table.

Jack was gagging in the bathroom, the sound of him being sick loud in the small room. You went over, water bottle in hand. Setting it on the sink counter, you crouched beside him, rubbing his back soothingly. When he was done, he looked at you, tears streaking his face.

“Why would she do that to me?”

“She’s not a good person,” you didn’t know what else to say. You grabbed the towel off the rack, using it to clean up his mouth. “I should've watched out for you more. I’m so sorry.”

He shook his head, laying his head on your shoulder. “Not your fault. We thought it was gonna be a fun night.”

You held him close, just wanting to keep him as safe as you could. All you knew in that moment was you couldn’t handle the idea of someone hurting him again. He was too kind and caring to ever deserve to be hurt. “It was fun,” you said, your hand carding through his hair soothingly, “Between your bad dancing and horrible jokes, I love being with you.”

“Don’t do that,” he mumbled.

“Do what?”

“Please. Please,” he stressed the word, “don’t say that you love me tonight. When I think about the first time… Don't wanna think about it being like this.”

“Okay,” you nodded, “Let’s get you changed then. Get you more comfortable to ride this out.”

You helped him stand back up. Taking him back into the room, you grabbed the clothes from the bag. It was quick work so slide off his suit jacket. Undoing his shirt buttons, you ignored the vomit your hands came across. The care you had for him overcoming the grossness of it. You casted the shirt aside before kneeling down in front of him.

“Help me a bit here sunshine, need to get your boots off.” Jack put a hand on the wall, leaning against it so he wouldn’t fall as he balanced on one foot. You pulled them off quickly. “Is this okay?” You asked him, motioning to his pants.

“You’re okay, darlin’. You know that.”

“Didn’t want to push you, sweetheart.”

Once the both of you were dressed out of your date clothes, you had set a trash can nearby before Jack pulled you on to the bed with him. The tv droned quietly. Jack was resting against your chest. Neither of you would have thought your night would end like this.

[waywardbeanie]

A Man of Letters - Chapter Ten

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader Summary: It started as a simple hunt for Sam and Dean Winchester. Dean didn’t realize that this single case would change his life forever. Now they are on the biggest mission of their lives, and without the use of cellphones, the only way he can communicate with the love of his life is through old fashioned letter writing. He has done everything in his power to keep her safe, but will it be enough? Word Count: 7212 (ish)

Series Warnings: Language, slow burn, angst, smut, alcohol consumption, fluff, SPN typical violence (individual chapters will contain relevant warnings) a little meta Chapter Warning: IT’S CHRISTMAS, humor (Is that really a warning?) and a little bit of sweet.(Always), angst, spicy (smut), unprotected (ish) sex

A/N:  Thank you to everyone who has read this series so far, I have loved writing it and watching the characters grow. I appreciate EVERY ONE OF YOU who are taking this journey with me. We are a little less than half way there so BUCKLE UP!

Thank you to my beta @winchest09 and my mind melder, idea bouncer and my cheerleader @whatareyousearchingfordean​ I would be lost without you both!

Thank you to @talesmaniac89​ she is the gif MASTER!

MASTERLIST A Man of Letters

If you’d like to be tagged, my list is open. Just send me an ask HERE: **Make sure you check out the playlist, it is updated every chapter and an essential part of the story**

Spotify Playlist : A Man of Letters

Catch up here >>>>>>> A Man of Letters Masterlist

This series is ongoing!

No Gif’s are mine

                                      Y/F/N “Santa’s Little Helper” Y/L/N

                                                 127 Washington St

                                                 Lincoln, NE   68506

Babe,  

 I will tell you it took me a few minutes to read your letter because I just wanted to look at the pictures that you sent. You're right, one of us in bed being lazy is my new favorite. The way you smile in that picture is exactly how you smile at me when you wake up in the morning. I love it on the one hand, but it's sad too. If I close my eyes and it's quiet, I can almost imagine myself back there. I love the one at the bonfire. That hangover was awful, it's a great picture, and we look like we are having fun. How do you think I would forget the beach picture with my favorite bathing suit? I can tell you that you went to the edge of the water to wash your feet and legs off. I called your name, you looked at me over your shoulder and blew me a kiss, right before you laughed and I took the picture. 

Thank you for sending them, just like with all the photos you take they tell a story, I'm just lucky enough to be in your story. That first Thanksgiving together was awesome, we had so many people we care about there. Sam and I had a real Thanksgiving meal that wasn't from a gas station or TV dinner. Of course, thinking of that makes me think about Christmas. You went out of your way to make it memorable. I had never had a real tree that I remember, but cutting down my own? I didn't realize what I was missing. Christmas morning was still the best. I still can't figure out how you and Sam were able to pull it off.

We have gone on three raids since your last letter and have come up with a lot of nothing. They knew we were coming, that is the only thing I can think of. Sam and I talked about it, we have an idea that maybe someone around here is running their mouth, so we are locking shit down. Unless we need to go for supplies, everyone stays here; if they go out, it's in pairs now. We did find a couple of ledgers that were left behind. Charlie is putting them all into a computer and will try to make sense of them or decide if they were left there to throw us off the trail. We are still training; sometimes, I get so angry; it's what gets me through. 

I sat down with Sam the other day and finally told him my plan. I was going to wait until this job was over, but I honestly thought this job would have already been over. He blew my mind when he told me he was surprised I hadn't done it already. He said he knew by that first Christmas that it was just a matter of time, that I would leave this life behind within five years. He knew I couldn't walk away until we wrapped things up as neatly as possible, which, as you know, is why I'm on this job. I no longer feel like I'm walking away from my brother, but that I'm walking towards something, I'm just fucking ready. 

Before I sign off, I want to tell you how proud I am that you were chosen again as the official photographer! You are so good; there is no one else they could have picked! I hope I have better news next time, but unless something breaks soon, I won't be back  in time to help with the parade this year, but I know you will be great! Watch your back until I can.

I Love You,

D

2 ½ years ago

Tink: Sam, I need your help with something.

Sam: Are you okay?

Tink: Yes, I'm fine; it's about a present for Dean. Can you talk?

Sam: He is sitting right next to me.

Tink: Can you get up?

Sam: We are in the car

Tink: You didn't tell him it was me texting you, did you? I want it to be a surprise. 

Sam: No, but he is starting to give me weird looks.

Tink: Can you see the face I'm giving you right now, Sam? This is a SECRET

Sam: okay well stop saying shit that makes me laugh because he just asked me who I was texting like a schoolgirl

Tink: Ugh!. Can you call me when you guys get to the motel, but it should be before or after Dean calls. Please. Shhh a SECRET

Sam: I'll call before because you guys are on the phone half the night, and I'm not staying up that late.

Tink: I'm STILL giving you the face Sam

Sam: Okay, I'll call. I got to go. Dean just rolled down the window and is giving me a look. I'm not going to lose another one of my phones so ttyl.

Standing side by side, arms crossing their chest in matching poses, they studied the tree that they put in the stand in the front living room window.

Y/N pressed her lips together in a line,  "I think it needs to go on the back porch; it's too big."

"What!" Dean cried, "It's perfect. I just might need to trim it a little."

She shook her head, disagreeing with him, "It's wider than I am tall at the bottom and-" she gestured to the ceiling laughing, "-it's all scrunched up at the top, like by a foot. We would have to put a dangly star ornament as a tree topper. The tree is actually bent over."

"Okay," he chuckled, "It might be a little bigger in this room than I thought it would be."

"Dean," she pointed to the tree, "there is actually a picture window behind that tree, but you can't tell because it's so…" she gestured her hands around.

"Fluffy?" Dean suggested.

Y/N giggled, "first of all, hearing you say the word fluffy, makes me laugh. Second, if we light a fire in the fireplace, that tree will go up in smoke."

"You know, Babe," Dean said, bumping her hip, wiggling his eyebrows, "fluffy could be our safe word."

"Really?" she questioned, rolling her eyes with a smile, "since when do we need a safe word? I don't need one. Do you need one?"

He pulled her into his arms, brushed her hair away from her face as he dragged his teeth along her jaw; he continued to kiss down her neck, his scruff marking her neck. 

"Codeword," was her breathless response.

"Huh?" he pulled away looking at her.

With a smirk, she focused on his face. "Fluffy should be the code word to why we can't ever get anything done when you are here."

"That sounds like you're complaining."

"Uh...no that is not complaining, it is an observation." She flashed him her brightest smile as she fluttered her eyelashes at him. "Complaining would be bitching that I could sit in the kitchen; and hang ornaments on the tree." Dean took that moment to look at her, to appreciate the woman in his life. She made his heart sing whenever she was near. Not wanting to waste another second, he hauled her body to his, crushing his mouth to hers, swallowing the gasp of shock; taking the opportunity of her open mouth to deepen the kiss. His tongue dancing with hers, he moved his hand up, pulling off her knit hat and entangling his fingers into the hair at the base of her skull, pulling her closer as a moan rumbled through his chest. With her hands fisted in his jacket, they broke away, catching their breath. Her lips quirked up in a smile as she looked up at him.

"See?" she pointed out, "you distract me with all of your flannel lumberjackness." 

He chucked, "Well, I did just chop down our first Christmas tree, even if we had to wait for Christmas Eve to do it."

"Hmm," she hummed, eyeing the tree out of the corner of her eye. "Do you need help with whatever we are doing with it?"

"Nah," he said, pulling his gloves out of his back pocket, "Sammy will be here soon, he can help me with it. I'm just going to drag it back outside".

"Hold on," she said, pulling her phone out of her back pocket, "let's take a picture in front of the tree first." They stood in front of the tree, as she snapped the selfie as they both wore matching cheesy grins.

Sam got to Y/N's bungalow just as Dean finished bringing the tree out the front door. They worked together to cut it down, shaking all the snow off before bringing it back into the house. Y/N was in the kitchen, pulling out the cornbread she made to serve with the chili that had been cooking all day in the crockpot. After they ate, Dean helped her get the ornaments out of the attic. She had already decorated the rest of the house weeks earlier but wanted to wait for him to get the tree. After dinner, Y/N turned on the Christmas music as she made hot chocolate with peppermint schnapps; she brought it into the living room, standing back to watch Sam and Dean pass the lights back and forth, wrapping the tree with them.

"Hey Babe," Dean looked back at her, motioning to the tree, "what do you think? Pretty great, huh?"

"It's beautiful," she smiled. "I made some hot chocolate," she gestured, holding up the Santa Claus mugs, "to drink while we hang ornaments." They both looked at her with matching scrunched noses and raised eyebrows. 

Rolling her eyes, she held out the mugs, "Try it, before you start making those faces at me. "Have I ever made you anything you didn't like?”

"Butter beans," Dean mumbled. 

Y/N exhaled a long breath. "Does it look like I'm trying to give you a mug of butter beans? Whatever-" she set the mugs on the coffee table, "you guys are missing out." With that, she wrapped her hands around her cup and took a long drink. 

"Y/N, don't be mad," Sam said, picking up the mug. "I'm sure it's good hot chocolate." Taking a sip, his eyes grew large. "Damn, Y/N, these taste like Girl Scout cookies."

"What?" Dean questioned, picking up his mug, "I love Girl Scout cookies."

"No kidding." Y/N deadpanned.

Taking a swig, he licked his lips, "It tastes like the Thin Mints."

"You don't say," she said looking over the rim of her mug as she took another drink.

"Well, you didn't say you made hot chocolate that tastes like cookies."

"Anyway," she set her mug down, "I got you both something, I want you to open before we hang up ornaments.” She walked over to the fireplace decorated with pine garland, multiple sized white candles scattered over the entire mantle. Tucked in the corner, were two small gifts wrapped in white tissue paper. She handed Dean the one with the red ribbon and Sam the one with the green ribbon. 

"Wait," Dean said, turning the small package in his hand, "Are we doing presents now?"

Y/N shook her head, "This is just a small thing I made for you guys, go on, open them."

She bit her lip as she watched them pull the ribbon and tear open the paper. Inside they each found an "S" and a "D," respectively made of thin wood with a ribbon attached at the top. On each was multiple pictures of themselves decoupaged on the letter.

"I forget how many pictures you take," Sam said, holding it up by the strip of cloth as he studied it, "it's an ornament, right?"

"It is," she smiled. "I wanted you each to have your very own ornament to hang on the tree too."

As Dean stared at the ornament, studying the pictures, he mumbled almost to himself, "I can't remember ever having my own ornament before."

Before she knew it, they had both engulfed her in a hug, squeezing her. "I. Can't. Breathe," came her muffled plea. 

Sam stepped back, his hand rubbing her upper arm. "Thank you, Tink, this means so much."

Dean took the opportunity to pull her against his chest, his lips brushing the shell of her ear squeezing her just a little tighter "Babe, you have no idea how special this is.”

They turned the Christmas music up as they hung ornaments on the tree with a couple for refills of the spiked hot chocolate and the cookies she had made earlier. After they finished, Dean built a fire in the fireplace as Y/N put all of the presents under the tree. They sat around the living room, the only illumination from the tree and the fire. Dean settled in his "spot" on the couch, draping his arm over the back, Y/N lying next to him, with her toes tucked under his thigh. At this point, it was a habit; it's how they always sat there together. 

Sam sat across from them on one of the comfy chairs. She shared stories of when she was a kid at Christmas, and Sam and Dean shared some stories of how they spent their holidays. She made them tell her a couple of stories twice. Her favorite was of them bursting into this Rent-a-Santa trailer because they thought he was murdering someone, but he was just smoking pot, getting drunk, and watching porn, so they sang Silent Night to get out of it. 

Standing up, Sam stretched his arms over his head, yawning. "I'm going head to bed."

"Night Sammy," they said in unison.

Raising his eyebrows, he shook his head at them with a huff of laughter, "Yeah, see you two in the morning." 

He made this way to the second bedroom of Y/N's bungalow. It was her office, but she had also made it into a guest room for him. He quietly closed the door, pulled off his clothes, folded them, and placed them on the chair. He pulled on his flannel sleep pants and a clean t-shirt. He slipped into the crisp sheets of his bed; he laced his fingers behind his head and settled into his pillow with a smile. He could hear the hum of voices from the living room as he let his mind wander. 

Sam could see the changes in Dean since he met Y/N, especially when he was here. Dean was very tight-lipped about her unless it was just the two of them, but he could tell Dean was trying to put things in order. He knew he wasn't going to leave things unfinished. Now that Gabriel is back, it was just a matter of time before they could open the rift again to get Mom and Jack. After they were home safe, he knew Dean was going to walk away from hunting; his priorities had changed. It wasn't that Dean didn't want or think people needed saving; he was just tired. 

Dean talked more to Sam about how he felt since Y/N came into their lives than all of the years before. There were little snippets here and there, but Sam paid attention. It was the little things that he said and, maybe louder, were the things he didn't. Sam knew Dean had sacrificed so much, had saved him so many times, hell, they both had, but this time he knew it was going to be for good. Once Dean walked away, he would never come back. That didn't make him angry, it scared him, if Dean wasn't there he had some big shoes to fill, Sam wasn't sure that he was good or strong enough to do what Dean has done for all of these years, but Sam was willing to try because after everything his brother had done for him, this was the thing he could do for Dean. Closing his eyes with a smile, he listened to the murmur of their voices and the soft sound of Christmas music as he fell asleep.

Standing up, Dean reached his hand out to Y/N, slipping her hand in his, he pulled her from the couch.

"Come on, Babe," he smiled as he led her in front of the fireplace, the twinkling lights from the tree bouncing around the room.

Dean pulled her to him, took her right hand in his and rested his hand at the small of Y/N's back. "Dancing with you, this is one of your favorite Christmas songs."

She tilted her head to listen, hearing Michael Bublé singing, "I'll Be Home For Christmas."

As he rubbed his thumb across the top of her hand, she smiled up at him as they moved around the living room.

"Dean, you hate dancing."

"But, you don't," he whispered, pressing a kiss to her lips, "besides, I don't hate dancing. How could I hate something that means I can have you right here in my arms."

It was in that moment that Y/N’s heart swelled, an overwhelming feeling of admiration and love for the man holding her flooded her soul. She pulled back slightly, capturing the look of his green eyes twinkling in the firelight. “I lo-” she began, her mouth snapping shut as her lips closed, heat creeping up her face as he raised his eyebrow. Her mouth hung agape for a second, as she tried to find the words to cover up her stumble. “I-I love this song, this time of year,” she stammered, lowering her eyes to fixate on the collar of his shirt. She reached up to start fixing it, “so, so much,” she finished in a mumble.

Dean slowed the dancing, his eyes not once moving from her face as she fumbled with the clothes he was wearing. He knew he needed to do something, they had been dancing around the ‘L’ word for months but this is the closest one of them had come to saying it. The silence in the air was palpable and Dean swallowed hard. Before he could even begin to take an action, Y/N cleared her throat. 

“Anyway, I think that’s the cheesiest thing I’ve ever heard come out for your mouth,” she chuckled, her nerves engulfing her as she rested her forehead against his chest. 

He shrugged his shoulders, "Eh, I've had better lines, and worse," he chuckled, deciding to let the near slip up slide. 

"Great."

"Come on Babe, you know it's not like that anymore, I flirt if I need information, but that's it."

She lifted her head to look at him, "I'm not worried, Dean. We talk pretty much every night, and you come here every chance you can, even when you are all banged up after a job. I mean, I never thought I would learn how to stitch a person up." Rubbing her hand up and down his back she smiled. "The women don't concern me, they can't help themselves. I mean, look how they act around here, and I'm with you.”

"They are just trying to be helpful."

"Hmm," she hummed. "Yeah, they want to help you do something."

"It doesn't matter; I usually don't notice until you start laughing." He smirked

"Exactly! That's what makes it so funny. They are falling all over you, and you don't even notice. Then I start laughing because it is so obvious and that's when you start looking around. That's one of the reasons I know I have nothing to worry about. Women aren't my concern; it's your job." She ran the back of her fingers along his scruffy jaw, looking into his deep green eyes. "I can't imagine anyone is as good as you are; it just scares me sometimes. I know you went to Hell and the Mark of Cain, what if something happens like that again?"

He stopped swaying to the music as he captured her hand and held it against his face. "Y/N, I would be lying if I didn't say what we do isn't dangerous, I'm not going to blow smoke, but it isn't like it used to be, I know I have Sam, but now I also have you. I know what is important." 

"Dean, what if you don't have a choice?"

"There is always a choice, Babe. Team Free Will and all, I'll be fine." 

"Just come back to me, please don't make Sam have to make that phone call."

Leaning down, he kissed her tenderly. "Always Babe. I will always come back to you."

"You better," she sniffed.

"Hey," he chuckled "No, crying, it's Christmas."

"I'm not crying," she smiled through her tears, "I have allergies."

He wiped her tears with his fingers, then wiped them on his jeans. "You know we have danced to like three songs by now."

"Well, I guess that will at least get you to New Year's Eve" she laughed

They blew out the candles and tapped down the fire, leaving the tree lights on and headed to bed. Dean stripped down to his boxers, and Y/N changed into a t-shirt with her boy shorts. Crawling under the covers, Dean turned off the bedside lamp and pulled her into his side, her head resting against his chest and listened to his heart's steady beat. 

Dean blinked open his eyes as he found himself lying on his side, Y/N's back pressed against his chest, his arm draped around her waist. He breathed deep, his nose ghosting her exposed neck. Then she did it again, she began to push against him, and grind into him in her sleep, a soft moan escaping her lips as she felt his erection pressing against her, inflaming his need. He pulled her body tighter against him as he rubbed his hardness against her, eliciting another moan from Y/N. She woke up and turned her head to him with a sleepy smile before he captured her lips with a deep kiss. Rolling her on her back, he began to kiss down her neck, his shirt that she had claimed from him months ago in his way. Sitting back on his heels between her legs, he grabbed the hem of the t-shirt and unceremoniously yanked it off and threw it on the floor. She had gotten him so worked up that he was on a mission. Running his hands up her thigh, he settled his fingers in the crease of her legs, his thumbs brushing against the material of her boy shorts. A gasp escaped her lips as his thumbs continued to rub her through the cloth.

"It looks like I wasn't the only one getting worked up this morning," he grinned. Y/N tried to move closer, but he held her in place. He leaned down, ran his tongue alongside the band of her underwear, pulling a whimper from her as her hips involuntarily bucked.

"Dean," she whined, "stop teasing and get moving, I'm about to lose my damn mind here.”

 He pulled off her underwear in one swift move. As his eyes focused on her hip,  he stopped moving; an eerie growl rumbling through his chest. Mesmerized, his fingertips reached out, tracing the ink there. The tattoo is the size of his fist and is an anti possession matching the one on his chest; his eyes snapped to hers as he sees a vulnerability in her as she watches him, the need to protect her exploding inside of him.

"When did you do this?" he rasps. 

"Sam helped me two weeks ago," she whispered, now not so sure by the look on his face that she had done the right thing.

"Why?" he croaked.

"Because you were worried about me, and-" she stuttered, "-and I thought if I did this, you wouldn't be as stressed out." 

His heart beat hard in his chest as his vision danced between her new ink and her eyes. Y/E/C orbs that  were clearly showing Dean her raw feelings for him. It was then that he questioned why it took him so long to tell her how he felt, always running away from others who tried to share their heart with him. Yet maybe it was because Dean was always running to her, even before he  even knew she existed. As he ran his thumb over her hip, he knew he needed to tell her; he had to, his chest ached at the thought he had kept those words to himself for so long. A slow, peaceful grin spread across his face he laid down next to her, pulling her into his arms. She slowly brushed her finger over the tattoo on his chest.

"Dean?" she questions with an anxious tone, her heart sinking, afraid that she had gotten it all wrong.

He swallows a lump in his throat as the words his heart demands that he speak, wage war within him. What if in telling Y/N, the forces outside his control tear her away from him? But, if he doesn't tell her soon, will she walk away with the belief that none of this was real?

He brushes her hair away from her face as he cups her cheek, lifting her head to meet his gaze. Her eyes are glassy as she blinks back at him; she feels lost. Usually, she is strong and fierce, but she feels on the verge of despair right now. Smiling softly, he tucks a piece of her hair behind her ear. 

"I want you to be safe; I need you to be, you to know you can always count on me.”

"You can count on me too, Dean, always."

He nodded his head, his smile never wavering, pressing a kiss to her forehead before he pulled back.

"I love you, Y/N.” His words whispered against her skin, “I've loved you for so long that it's hard for me to remember when I didn't. You have changed my life in ways I didn't think were possible." He pulled in a shaky breath, feeling the weight lifting off his shoulders as he found the courage to tell her. "I want you to know that I am all in Babe, I want it all with you."

A sound between a sob and a laugh escapes her lips, tears roll down her face, but the smile she gives him is like the brightest sun in a clear blue sky. He looked down to notice  the pure joy radiating from her.

Bringing her hand to his cheek, she tries to speak, her throat clogged with emotion. "I love you too, Dean. Oh my God-" she laughs, “you have no idea” 

He rested his forehead against hers, voice cracking, "I love you so fucking much, Babe."

He pressed his lips softly to Y/N's before deepening the kiss. He urged her back onto the mattress, holding his weight above her on his elbows just as a loud banging sounded on the wooden bedroom door, shaking it in its frame. Breaking the kiss, he looks towards the door, "Sam; I swear to God-"

"-get your asses up," Sam calls through the door. "It's Christmas, and we have presents to open."

"Sam!" he barks, "Not now."

He can hear Sam's laughter through the door while Y/N is chuckling underneath him.

Turning back to her, a quirk to his lips, he whispered huskily, "We were having a moment here."

"He has radar remember," she giggles a little louder.

The pounding on the door begins again, "Let's go!"

“We will be out in a minute!" Dean snaps.

"I don't believe you," Sam continues to bang on the door with his fist. Consistent, not stopping.

Dean moves off the bed jerking his jeans up off the floor, tugging them on as Y/N scrambles to pull on her shorts and t-shirt. Storming over to the door, Dean grabs the doorknob and whips the door open.

"Dude," he snarls.

"Morning," Sam smiles, taking a drink of his mug of coffee, "you guys up?"

Dean looks incredulously at his brother, "You're kidding me right now?"

A burst of laughter comes from behind him as Y/N tries to squeeze her way through the doorway, pausing to plant a kiss between Dean's shoulder blades. "Come on, let's get some coffee and I'll put the cinnamon rolls in the oven," she says, speaking against his naked back. 

"Oh, good," Sam chuckles, stepping back, "I'm starving."

Walking back in the room, Dean grabs his shirt pulling it over his head, mumbling, "I hope you choke on them, Sammy, I hope you choke."

Standing around the island, they each had their second mug of coffee in their hand, the sweet smell of cinnamon rolls drifting through the kitchen.

"Hmm," Y/N hummed, "You know what sounds good with cinnamon rolls."

"Bacon," Dean announced.

"Exactly," she smiled, setting down her coffee, making her way to the door, "I think I have some in the garage freezer. Let me go check."

Sam shook his head at Dean, "Dude; I think you broke Tink."

"Huh?" 

"I think you broke her. When we first met her, she made egg white omelets with spinach and mushrooms and now-" Sam gestured to the garage, "-she is making bacon and cinnamon rolls."

Making his way to the coffee machine, he points his mug at Sam. "First, I'd like to think that I helped her, but honestly, I think she still eats that crap when I'm not here."

"Oh, you mean healthy."

"Whatever," he visibly shivered.

"Maybe she will bring you over to the light side yet."

"Sammy, vegetables are the work of the devil, I'm not doing it."

Sipping his coffee, he smiled, "We'll see."

Glancing at the garage door, he looked back, catching Sam's eye. "Hey, I owe you one, man."

"What are you talking about?"

"Y/N, you helped her, you know with the-" he motioned to his hip, "anti-possession tat."

"You know, it was her idea," he shrugged. "She was a champ too, she barely flinched."

"Yeah," Dean smiled, "my girl is a lot tougher than she looks."

"Tink has to be," his brother smirked, "to put up with your shit."

"Really, Sam?"

"I'm just saying." He gestured to Dean

"Well, Sammy, that door swings both ways," he smirked, "speaking as someone who has been stuck in the car with you."

Sam opened his mouth to reply when Y/N burst through the door, waving a large package of bacon in her hand, the garage's frozen air following her.

"Found it," she announced, "and it's fucking cold out there."

Peering out the sliding glass door Dean took in the expanse of snow-covered tundra, "Damn, I think it snowed a foot last night."

"Just in time for Christmas," she smiled.

She put the bacon on a cookie sheet and slid it into the oven. Dean made her a fresh coffee, and she set the timer as they made their way to the living room to gather around the tree. Dean announced that he was going to be "Santa Claus" and hand out all the presents. The three of them sat on the floor as he began to hand them out. Y/N's heart felt very full as she watched the two brothers' faces light up with sheer delight. The anticipation of having a real Christmas with all of the festivities, to include presents under the tree that didn't come from the corner gas station. 

Sam was the first to open his gift from Y/N; wrapped in a Christmas paper of Santa and Rudolph taking selfies. Pulling the paper and red ribbon off, it revealed a laptop zipper sleeve printed with a multitude of pictures, flipping it over in his hand; there were pictures of him, Dean, Bobby, Cas, Jack, Mary, Jody, Donna, Claire, Alex, Patience, and Garth. 

"This is amazing, where did you get all of these pictures?" he asked in awe.

Y/N grinned, "Jody helped me with the pictures, then I put them all together and printed on the laptop cover." 

Pointing to the gift in Dean's lap she said, "open yours next." He pulled the green ribbon on the paper covered with muscle cars decorated with Christmas lights. He ripped the covering, and flipped open the box. Lifting the tissue paper he stared at the object inside.

"Babe," he choked, emotions clogging his throat. 

"What did you get?" Sam questioned as he attempted to peer over the box lid

"Do you like it?" she whispered.

He leaned over, sweetly kissed her, and sat back, he pulled the picture frame out of the tissue paper, turning to show it to his brother. It was the picture of Dean and Mary, she was standing behind him, with her arm around him. The photograph had been restored and framed in a black frame. Instead of putting it back in the box to take back to the bunker, he stood up and walked to the long entertainment stand where Y/N had lots of pictures of her and Dean displayed; he moved some other frames around placing the one of he and Mary among them. Y/N blinked back tears because she knew that if he set the frame up here, he must consider being here his home. Walking back to his seat on the floor, he pointed to one of the presents in Y/N's lap. 

"Babe, open the one from me next." 

She picked up the small one wrapped in brown kraft paper with a smiley face with a Santa hat drawn on it. She started to pick the tape, careful not to rip the paper.

"Y/N, just rip it open," Dean groaned

Squinting her eyes with a sly smile, she said, "I'm trying to save the paper."

"Well, just hurry up," he grumbled as Sam laughed at his impatience.

She pulled out the small box and opened the lid to reveal a plain black leather necklace with a silver clasp. Dean watched her closely as she pulled the jewelry out of the box; she saw a delicate metallic charm. Cupping it in her palm, she stared at it, the tears that she had blinked away moments ago quietly ran down her cheeks. It was a gorgeous pendant with her and Dean's initials intertwined.

"This is so beautiful, did you make this?" she breathed.

"I did," he announced proudly.

She stood up, holding the necklace out to him, "can you put it on me?"

He took the necklace from her as she turned around, lifting her hair. He placed the jewelry around her neck and clasped it; Dean kissing the skin where the clasp had settled. 

Turning around she wrapped her arms around him, “I love you,” she whispered against his lips. 

Dean groaned as he crushed her against him, capturing her lips with his, instantly deepening the kiss as she clung to him.

As Sam cleared his throat, Dean pressed her closer with one hand as he held a finger out to his brother, telling him to wait a minute. As they broke apart a little breathless, Dean cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing over her bottom lip, he looked into her eyes as she stared into his deepening green ones. 

"I love you, Babe." 

A crash came from the kitchen as they stepped away from each other. 

"Oops...Sorry!" Sam called, "the timer went off, and I was getting the bacon and cinnamon rolls, while you two were," he waved towards them, "you know."

Y/N's face began to heat as she remembered that Sam was in the room, and she was so into the kiss she didn't even hear the timer. She quickly gathered the paper plates with poinsettias and started to serve the food. She handed Dean’s to him first, and he made his way back out into the living room. As she gave Sam his he held her hand so that she would look at him.

"Tink," he murmured, catching her eye. As she looked up at him, he smiled, "You are the best thing that has ever happened to my brother. You have shown him there is more to life than what he has ever had and you truly love him despite all of the shit in our lives, thank you."

The smile radiating from her face confirmed to Sam one of the many reasons his brother loved this girl so much.

"Come on!" Dean yelled from the other room, his mouth full of food. "Let's open the rest of these presents!"

Making their way back in, they began opening the rest. Sam got Y/N a new leather portfolio to display her photographs for presentations and when she opened it up, on the inside left corner was a little embroidered Tinkerbell with her magic wand. Two of the remaining presents were identical packages wrapped in Elvis wrapping paper for the brothers. Dean opened his gift to find a Led Zeppelin box set. Sam began to open his to find a Celine Dion box set.

"I don't understand," Sam shook his head brows knitted, "I don't even like-"

"-lies!" Dean cackled, Y/N's laughter joining his. 

"Fine," Sam's lips quirked. "Can we please keep it between the three of us now since Dean doesn't know how to keep a secret."

Y/N put her hand up, still giggling. "I swear if anyone asks me, I will say your favorite singer is Elvis."

"You two suck," he grimaced. "I mean I love it, but you still suck, you have the weirdest sense of humor."

His announcement was met with thundering laughter.

The rest of the day was followed by watching Christmas movies and eating a ham dinner with all the delicious sides. Y/N packed everything in containers to go after that had eaten because she knew that they were leaving early the next morning.  Sam went to bed first with the excuse that he knew they had a long day tomorrow. 

Dean sat on the corner of the bed, a towel wrapped around his waist lost in the thoughts of their next steps to open the rift to get out Mary and Jack.

Y/N walked in, closing the door behind her. The towel was gripped to her chest as damp hair cascaded down her back. She regarded him as he was staring at the floor, elbows resting on his knees. His hair was almost dry from the shower as she watched the muscles roll in his back. Tilting his head up to look at her she could see the sadness he had hidden from her all day in his eyes. Moving over to him, he sat up and pulled her between his knees. He wrapped his arms around her and rested his head against her chest, taking comfort in her heart's steady beat. Drawing him closer, she ran her fingers through his hair in an effort to ease his burden.

Y/N broke the silence with a whisper, "Do you want to talk about it?"

Nuzzling into her, he shook his head slightly, "We have talked too much about it, tomorrow is when we put it all into action. I just want to enjoy tonight with you."

"Whatever you need, Dean."

He lifted his head, looking up at her, he had a way of seeing right into her soul with just a look that always took her breath away. 

"I need you," he rasped.

She bent to brush her lips to his; Dean swiftly took the lead. Hooking his finger at the edge of her towel, it dropped to the floor as he deepened the kiss. Dean flipped his towel open scooting back further on the bed, pulling Y/N with him, she straddled his hips. He pulled back, his eyes meeting hers in a silent question. She nodded her head once before he drove up into her, their moans muffled by their open mouth kisses. Her forearms rested on his shoulders as her hands fisted in his hair. Dean's hands were gripping her hips, one palm covering her new tattoo, fingertips digging in as they moved together at a reckless pace. 

It wasn't about making love or marathon sessions; this was about dampening the fire in both of them. They were both worried about what tomorrow was going to bring, and this was the way they would connect without words. Quiet, fast, and hot is what was required. Dean could feel the tightening in his spine and knew he was close, but he knew Y/N needed a little more, sliding his hand between them he used his thumb to brush against the bundle of nerves and with a gasp she threw her head back. His lips moved along her neck, marking her at the spot between her neck and collarbone. 

She whined his name, letting him know she was close, he sucked a little harder on her throat as he used a bit more pressure with his thumb. She broke apart in his arms as he felt her flutter around him, he drove into her a few more times before he found his release. Still buried inside Y/N, he held her trembling body, his head resting against her shoulder as they caught their breath. 

"I didn't realize how much I needed that," she huffed, shakily.

"Yeah," Dean agreed, "I guess I didn't either." He helped her stand up before they both moved to each side of the bed and crawled between the sheets. Y/N lay on her back with closed eyes as Dean lay next to her, his head propped on his elbow looking down at the woman he loved. The necklace he made her settled against her skin, slightly past her collarbones. With his finger, he lightly traced the intertwined initials. Y/N didn't open her eyes, but a soft smile played on her lips. She sighed his name in her blissful state. Leaning down, he gave her a sweet kiss. 

"Thank you for everything today."

Cracking one eye open, she whispered, "This was the best Christmas I have ever had, we will be telling these stories forever."

"You're right," he agreed, as he laid his head on the pillow and pulled her against him as they fell into a peaceful sleep.

Dean crawled out of bed, careful not to wake Y/N. It was still dark out, and he and Sam had to get on the road. He got dressed without the benefit of a light. Walking over to Y/N, curled up under the covers, he stood and watched her for a moment, emotions swirling through him. He brushed her hair back from her face. 

He bent and kissed her on the temple as he murmured, "I love you, Babe, always."

He made his way out to Baby, where Sam was waiting, throwing his bag in the back seat. He slid into the driver's side, placing his hands on the steering wheel, his mouth set in a firm line. Sam started to speak, but Dean shook his head.

"Sammy," he grumbled, "just give me until we get out of town, and then we can talk about whatever you want," he glanced at him and added, "within reason."

He cranked the ignition and slowly started to back out of the driveway. He stopped at the end and looked at the little bungalow. The Christmas lights that he had helped Y/N hang up after Thanksgiving twinkled in the dark, bouncing off the snow. He could see the sparkle of the tree through the front window. He pressed that picture in his memory; Dean didn't know when he would be back this time. This house and the memory of his girl looking at him pure love were the two things he would keep close to get him through until he could return. He pulled out onto the street and headed out of town to meet with Rowena and Gabriel. The only noise in the car was Baby's powerful engine growling through the early morning light.

Chapter 11

Tags: @winchest09 @katehuntington @whatareyousearchingfordean @emoryhemsworth @flamencodiva1@superfanficnatural @deanwanddamons @janicho88 @talesmaniac89 @anathewierdo @compresshischest09 @supernatural-bellawinchester @jensengirl83 @this-is-what-im-reduced-to @ellewritesfix05 @moron225 @foxyjwls007 @hobby27 @unicornqu33n17 @swinchester27 @deans-baby-momma @squirrelnotsam @clumsy-nerd104 @sarahbaker2010 @supernatural-love14 @akshi8278 @lyarr24 @angelhearts1012 @nothinbuttrouble2​ @cookiechipdough​ @lady-pswrld​ @peachyafshawn​ @notan-applepielife​ @linki-locks11​ @atc74​ @divadinag​ @dvnmbabe​ @michellethetvaddict​ @stoneyggirl​ 

[janicho88]

Come Back Part 3

Paring- Dean x Reader

Word Count-3810

Summary- After everything you and Dean have been through to get together you deserve some happiness right?

Warnings-Smidge of angst, fluff, some language, maybe just a couple words.  Implied smut

A/N As of right now this is the final part.  There is a chance someday there will be a fourth.  There are a few more pictures in this one, I like to visualize things, was trying to help you see what I was.  Pictures found on google.

Part 1    Part 2 

Three months later

Chaos, mayhem and craziness, that was what surrounded you.  Currently you were hiding in your old room in the bunker trying to get away.  Unfortunately the knock at the door told you that they found you again.  Charlie, Donna, and Jody, all of whom you had renamed in your head, hurried in. They were trying to help get everything ready for the wedding in a few days.  They all had an opinion on how it should be, the problem was, their opinion didn’t match yours.

Chaos, I mean Charlie thought you should do a Star Wars theme. They women could all dress like Princess Leia and the guys Jedi, with the robes and hoods. You think you just about had her talked out of it.  You had told her if that was what she wanted to wear, go right ahead, but she would be the only one. 

Mayhem, oh miss Donna wanted you to learn square dancing.  She was also hoping for big dresses with these crazy bows, and so so many ruffles.  You told her she was more than welcome to have one herself.  At this rate it was going to be more like a costume party than a wedding.  You mentioned to Donna you didn’t think Dean was going to learn square dancing this week for the wedding, but if she wanted to show people that night it was fine.   

Craziness, bless her heart. Jody’s ideas were probably the closest to what you were thinking.  After you lost your parents you spent most of your time at Bobby’s before going off hunting with Dean.  You saw Jody as a mom figure, and she knew the inner girl you kept hidden.  You just didn’t want to make things as grand as she did.  You appreciated everyone’s help, they were just a bit overwhelming when you had them all at once.

You weren’t expecting too many attendees.  Besides the three ladies, Alex and Claire would of course be joining.  Garth and his family would be here, a few other hunters the guys kept in constant contact with also coming.  You expected, but weren’t completely sure Crowely and Rowena would also make an appearance.  Rowena liked you, and the two of you had become friends over the years, even if Dean wasn’t thrilled about it.  Sam was Dean’s best man, Donna your maid of honor.  Since Dean was legally dead, and also wanted for numerous federal crimes a marriage license was out of the question.  Cas was officiating, both you and Dean figured married by an angel would make it legal and binding for the two of you.

Turning your attention back to the three ladies in front of you, you figured it would be wise to see what questions they had this time.

“What are you doing for decorations?”

“Where is the caterer going?”

“Where is your dress”

Jody’s question was the easiest so you started there.  “My dress still needs to be picked up, they finished the last alteration yesterday.”  While hunters don’t often get normal things, one thing you always dreamed about watching chick flicks was a beautiful wedding dress.  When you told Dean you were just going to get a simple dress or wear one you had, he encouraged you to go after your dream one.  He joked about wanting to see you in a big fancy dress in your real wedding pictures, not just your fake ones Sam had made.

As for the decorations, “Dean and I talked, we will move the tables aside in the library and rearrange the chairs for people to sit.  I don’t have any decorations.”  

“What nothing?  No fancy lights or even flowers?” Charlie wanted to know. 

 “No, we figured simpler was easier.”  Charlie just rolled her eyes.

“There aren’t that many of us, we didn’t exactly get a caterer.  There is a restaurant in town we’ve gone to a few times that does party size orders.   We ordered a few dishes to serve 30 that should give us plenty.  Sam or Dean are picking them up the day before the wedding, we just need to reheat it the next day.  Dean joked that we can order pizza later if people are hungry.  Honestly, I don’t care much about any of those things, well other than the dress, but it still isn’t as important as Dean.  End of the day what matters most is actually being together with Dean.  I want to be able to truthfully say he’s my husband.”  

They all chuckled at that.  You still had to humor them with a few more answers before they left you alone.  You had about two minutes to yourself when there was a knock on the door.  Turning your head toward the door you saw Dean walking in.

“How’s it going with your wedding army?”

“Not funny, they are driving me nuts.  I know I said I didn’t want to go to Vegas before, but is that completely off the table now?”

“Personally, I wouldn’t want to face the wrath of those 3 if they found out we eloped now, but if you really want to Baby is gassed and ready to go.”

“UGGHH, you’re right, we would never hear the end of it now.”

“I’ll talk to them, see if I can get them to calm down.”

“Thank you, Honey, you're the best.”   

After giving you a kiss your fiance left to try and wrangle in your help. Fiance, what a crazy year you two have had. It started with the fight that had you leaving the bunker and Dean.  Followed by the amnesia and being Dean’s fake wife.  They two of you had been together since the memories returned, you had officially moved into his room.  He didn’t say anything else about a wedding after the comment about getting real pictures so you didn’t push.   A month after all of Dean’s memories of you came back  he took you out to dinner then a walk by a nearby lake.  It was by the lake he dropped down on one knee and asked you to be his wife.  With tears in your eyes you had said yes. Dean didn't want to ever lose you again, hunter’s don’t always have the longest lives so he wasn’t going to waste any more time making you his actual wife.

The next month and half had kept you all pretty busy with hunts, you had not had much time to do anything for the wedding.  One of the few things you two finished was picking out your rings while gone on a case. 

 Your lack of completed tasks is why the girls are here now trying to help you.  You appreciated the help because honestly the last couple of weeks you hadn’t had a lot of extra energy.  You were thankful Dean hadn’t noticed that yet though.

Dean talked to your three friends and got them to tone everything down a bit. It made the next few days so much easier for you.  The night before your wedding they took you out for your bachelorette party.  You mentioned to them you didn’t want a hangover the next day so you wanted to avoid the alcohol.  They took you out for dinner, and still ended up with a trip to the bar after.  Things went pretty well though, and it was a fun night with the girls.  You weren’t sure what the guys were doing for Dean, but you knew they were hanging around the bunker.  When you made your way from the garage to your old room, you could still hear them in the library. 

You know those days where everything that can go wrong will?  That was your wedding day.  It was now 11:30 and the wedding was supposed to be starting at 1, if it ever did.  You could not believe the morning you had had.   Dean and Sam had picked up the food yesterday from the reception. Everything was sealed and labeled just how you had ordered it.  The guys brought it home and put it in the fridge.  This morning when you, Jody and Donna were in the kitchen talking about when to reheat everything and what goes where you took it all out of the fridge, good thing. What was supposed to be an alfredo pasta was, well you weren’t really sure.  It was something slimy.  In the container labeled chicken breasts, raw vegetables, at least those were edible. They would work too since Sam forgot to grab anything to make a salad.  Instead of mashed potatoes you got yams.  The cornbread Dean wanted, just cream corn.  

Jody called the restaurant to see if they could fix it and get you the right things.  They were extremely sorry, but could not fix it right now.  Apparently your food got mixed up with another catering they had today for a bigger group.  They were working on fixing that one right now, and it would take a few hours to start on yours.  They told Jody they would be giving you a refund though.  Looks like you’ll be ordering pizza after all. 

Leaving the kitchen after that mess you headed up to the library.  The site that met you had you closing your eyes hoping it was all a nightmare.  The guys little bachelor party the night before  looks like it got out of hand.  For some reason there were books everywhere, the tables and chairs all over and as soon as your shoe hit the library floor it stuck to it.  They apparently spilled a bit of alcohol, you could smell it now.  That had you running for the bathroom.  You carefully made your way back to the library, Sam looking around the corner when he heard your approach.  

“Hey we were going to come clean this up before you woke up.  Guess we overslept.  Don’t worry about this.  It will straighten up in no time.”

“What about the smell Sam?”

“We’ll find something.”

“What happened in here anyways?”

“Cas might have had a bit too much to drink and he was trying to show off some of his powers.  Didn’t go well as you can tell.  Used too much energy and passed out before we could get him to fix it.”

As you were talking you didn’t notice Charlie and Donna coming behind you.  They were going to finish the cake table and chose to bring the cake out now.  Charlie hit the sticky floor and stumbled. She held her balance until she hit an out of place chair and the cake went flying. Now you had another mess and no cake.  At least you had bought Dean a pie, which Donna was carrying.  Never mind it met the same fate as the cake.  What else could go wrong?

You should not have asked.  After trying to help clean up some of the mess, Jody sent you to shower.  She was going to start your hair after.  You two had practiced your updo a few times and she knew exactly how you wanted it.  Problem was today your hair didn’t realize it was supposed to cooperate.  The half up half down with curls you wanted was mostly down, and extremely limp.  Oh well, it was just hair you told yourself.  While looking in the mirror at the flop on your head someone knocked on the door.  It was Sam.

“What’s up Sam”

“Is anyone here any good with alterations?”

“What kind, to what and why?” You asked with your eyes narrowing in the mirror.

“Slight problem with the tuxes. Um how do you feel about purple?”

‘What’s wrong with the tuxes?  What’s purple that I need to feel something about? Again why?”

“Cas’ tux apparently came in purple. Now is the first time he’s opened it.  He must have hit the wrong box.  The alterations are for Dean and I.  My tux is a bit too big, and his is too small.  He can’t even get the coat on.”

“Didn’t you get measured for your tuxes? Why didn’t you try them on before?”

“We sent in our measurements and they sent us things to try on and we told them what fit.  Things have been hectic.  We all thought they would be fine.”

You didn’t say anything just stared straight ahead for a minute.  “I guess your Fed suits will have to work.”

You were hoping to do a few pictures outside before people came, that way you weren’t holding up the reception after.  You had figured if everyone here was ready by 11:30 it gave you time for pictures and to get back to your room before anyone else arrived. 

Shortly after 11 Donna and Charlie were helping you into your dress while Jody looked for your shoes. 

“I can’t find them anywhere Y/N do you know what they were in?”

They were in a white box.  They were on the counter, I grabbed the dress and Charlie grabbed my shoes.”

“I didn’t carry anything out of the shop.”  The redhead behind you spoke up.

“Did anyone carry the white box out?”

Silence great, you left without your shoes.  You had white flip flops guess that will have to do.  Donna started to zip the back of your dress with Charlie helping when you heard a ripping noise.

“What is that?”

“OH NO!  Y/N, I am so sorry!” Charlie exclaimed.  Apparently she had ended up standing on the dress while they were pulling the zipper and it was enough to tear the fabric in the back.  They unzipped it, while Jody left to see if there was any thread in the bunker to try and sew it up.  Charlie kept apologizing, but you told her accidents happen, and ushered them both out for a few minutes of quiet for yourself.

There was a knock on the door.

“Who is it?”

“Babe it’s me.  Jody told me about all the problems, are you okay? Can I come in”

“NO!  If the only thing that goes right today is the tradition of not seeing the bride then so be it.  You can open the door a smidge, but don’t peak in.”

“Okay, okay.   How are you holding up.”

 “I’m beginning to think someone cursed us today.  Who did we piss off now?”

“Just a rough morning, we aren’t cursed this time.  I’m sorry about the mess we made in the library.  We got the spills cleaned up.”

“Does it still smell like beer?”

“Eh, maybe some.”

“Okay.  Thank you for getting the rest ready.”

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry this isn’t the day of your dreams.”

“It’s okay, I’ll survive.   At the end of the day the most important thing is I have you by my side.”

“Always, Sweetheart.  We’re in this together.”

As you and Dean were talking you heard the clank of heels coming down the hall. “Is that Jody coming back?” 

“No, it’s Rowena.  Hello Rowena, can I help you?”

“Hello Dean. No, you cannot, I just fancied a word with the bride to be.”

“Dean, be nice.” You whispered out to him

“Fine, I’ll see you out there Sweetheart everything will be fine.”

 As Dean walked away you opened the door and let Rowena in.

“I heard from Samual, it’s been a bit of a rough morning for you? That library smells like a brewery.”

“That’s one way to put it.  Not much is going right, the food is wrong, the cake hit the floor, along with Dean’s pie.  The library was a mess this morning.  They cleaned it, but like you said it still smells.  The guy's tuxes don’t fit, Cas’ is the wrong color, I forgot my shoes and my dress ripped.  My hair has decided this will be the day it does it’s own thing.  This isn’t exactly how I thought this day would go.  I guess I should just be happy we haven’t been called for a hunt yet.”

“Sit here and let Rowena see what she can do Lass.”

You had been sitting in your room for about five minutes when Jody and Donna came back. They took your wedding dress and an old pair of shoes and left again. They must have found some thread, not sure what they are doing with the shoes though.  Five minutes later they returned again, much too quickly to have actually sewn the dress.

“Okay, let’s get you dressed,” Jody said.

“Wait, what about the dress? Did you fix it already?”

“We did not.  Your witchy godmother did.  She fixed your dress, shoes, the tuxes, cleaned up the library a bit.”

“Oh my.”  You were speechless. 

As they were finishing closing your dress there was another knock at the door. Rowena entered a moment later.

“You look just about perfect deary.  One more little thing.”

Rowena spoke a few words and you could suddenly feel your hair moving around.  She was fixing that too.

“Rowena, I’m going to cry thank you so much!”

“No tears today, it’s a happy day.  Even if you are marrying that Winchester.”

“Thank you so much.”  You gave her a hug and she went back out to the library.  

You had just enough time to get a few pictures finished before you needed to come back inside.  While Dean was outside getting his pictures with the guys, and ladies, you went to the library.  You could not believe your eyes, Rowena had worked her magic in here also.  It was no longer the library you knew, but a ballroom.  Gone were the bookcases, tables and chairs.  White Chairs were set up for the guests and a beautiful wedding arch where you would say your vows.  

“This is amazing Rowena, I can’t believe you did all this thank you!”

“You are more than welcome.  Alas I can’t take all the credit in here, your fiance made the arch as a surprise for you.”    

You couldn’t believe Dean had done that.  It was perfect.  The door opened and Jody came in to see where you were, so Dean wouldn’t see you when he came in.   She ushered him to the hall, then helped you up the stairs. When your pictures were done, she went inside and looked for Dean, to keep him out of the way.  Sam came over to talk to you.

“You look stunning, my brother is one lucky guy.  I’m glad you both came to senses.  I’m glad you decided to come back here.”

“I am too.  Mostly I’m thankful we got our Dean back.”  Sam gave you a hug as you both headed back inside.

Soon it was time for the ceremony to start.  You had asked Jody to walk you down the aisle, being the closest thing you had to a parent.  Dean actually had a tear in his eye when you reached him, and he told you how beautiful you looked. You told him how dashing he was.  The ceremony went much quicker than you imagined.  Both you and Dean reciting traditional vows.  When Cas pronounced you husband and wife Dean grabbed you to him in a longer kiss than you thought he would.  After you walked back down the aisle and people were getting up from their seats, Rowena changed the room to a different setting again.

  The white chairs were now around tables, a buffet line was set up that smelled delicious.  In the corner a beautiful wedding cake, with smaller circles surrounding it on the table.  Upon closer inspection they were mini pies.  You were going to need to hide some of those from Dean so he didn’t get sick.   This was incredible and more than you could imagine, you were going to owe her big for this.

You and Dean spent the afternoon and even talking with guests, dancing and enjoying the wonderful food Rowena provided.  When it came time to cut the cake, you told Dean if he made a mess it would be a long time before you made him another pie.  He took that warning to heart and did his best not to smear it on your face. You doing the same with the piece of pie you cut him.  Dean picked your first dance song, Aerosmith’s "I Don't Want to Miss a Thing."  He said he wasn’t missing anymore of your life together.   Most of your guests were crashing at the bunker tonight so it was one long party.  At one point you caught up to Sam.

“Think Rowena could have helped us with Dean a few months ago?”

“Probably, wish we had thought to ask her back then.” You nodded your agreement before going to find your new husband. 

You and Dean finally decided to call it a night and head back to your shared room for a little alone time.  There was something you wanted to share with Dean tonight.  Opening the door and turning back to pick you up Dean carried you in and placed you on the bed.  You were staying in the bunker tonight before heading off to your honeymoon.  Dean had actually rented a house on the beach, but far enough away from others you would have some privacy. 

“I missed you in my arms last night wife”

“I missed being held close to you, husband. I like being able to honestly call you that now.”

“I love hearing it.  I like the idea of filling those frames with pictures I actually remember.”

“Dean I have something for you.”

“Yeah, is it under your dress”

“Not in the way you're thinking.”

 Getting off the bed you went to your dresser and pulled out a gift wrapped box.  As you handed it to him, he told you he didn’t get you anything.  You told him he already did, and just open the box. He tore the paper off and when his eyes shot up to you when he removed the lid.  He looked at you and then back to what you had made for him in the box.

“Really… are you?.. Am I?”  With tears in his eyes he could finish his sentences.

“Yes, we are going to have a baby, you're going to be daddy.”  He grabbed you and pulled you in for a tight hug before he thought better of it and loosened his grip.  Leaning down his lips met yours in a slow sweet kiss.

“How far along are you?”

“Just about 6 weeks I found out this past week. Cas told me and I swore him to secrecy.”

“You know this means no more hunting for you right?”

“Yes, I kind of figured that.”

Dean leaned down to kiss you again.  It didn’t take long till you were working the buttons on his shirt and he was trying to figure out your dress.  You had to break apart to deal with clothes before coming back together and finishing your wedding night wrapped up in one another.  

Tags @flamencodiva​ @deanwanddamons​ @katehuntington​ @winchest09​ @emoryhemsworth​ @waywardbeanie​ @malfoysqueen14​ @talesmaniac89​ @whatareyousearchingfordean​ @superfanficnatural​ 

@fantasydevil2002​ @vicmc624​ @lilballofemotions @sandlee44​                       @multi-fan-lover

[descendantofthesparrow]

Daughter of the honorable theif - Harry Hook x reader - part 14 - the banquet

*note: I somehow forgot to put Harriet in the last chapter??? So let's just say that she's off doing whatever at the main fair….shes watching Ember compete, no yeah shes watching Ember compete during the competitions XD*

=

You hummed to yourself as you patted down the front of your forest green ballgown, your handmaidens cinching the back for you, not to tight that you couldn’t breathe but not so loose that the strapless dress would fall. They slipped on simple silver-white strapped heels and clipped a jewel encrusted necklace around your neck, you put on your bracelet, pulling your hair into (your preferred hair style*ignore the pictures hairstyles if u want, those are just suggestions*) that you always did for events like the banquet

In the other room, Harry was being flanked by multiple servants, finding the right suit for him to wear. after all, his date was the daughter of Robin of Loxley, lord of Sherwood, he had to look good.

They settled on a nice blue suit with a white shirt, and a light blue tie, giving him a polished set of boots to wear, which luckily were comfortable enough for him to wear for long periods.

Harry let out a curse under his breath as the servant tying his tie cinched it a little too tightly, he apologized and loosened it “my apologies young sir, the main hall is yet to be finished so we are trying to rush” Harry waved him off, along with the rest.

“it's fine, I can do the rest on meh own, thank yeh” the servants nodded and bowed, rushing out of the room to the main hall to prepare the rest of the banquet. Harry sighed and straightened his tie, tilting his head in the mirror, looking at himself.

He…didn’t look like him, his usually messy eyeliner clean and thin, his hair messy yet styled in such a way that it worked with his outfit.

He patted at his blue vest and grabbed the jacket that was hanging off the nearby closet, swinging it over his shoulders and sliding his arms though.

He….looked good, he’ll admit that….but he wondered if (y/n) would like it?

He smacked his head, why was he thinking that?? (y/n) was just a friend, why was he hoping she thought he looked good!?

He ignored the little voice in the back of his head yelling at him to just accept his feelings, which he didn’t have, he yelled back at himself….great he was talking to himself now, he really was fucking crazy.

He stepped out of his room, feeling his breath leave him as you stepped out of your room, your forest green ballgown trailing after you, your lips stained (best color that goes with green that looks good on you?!?) her feet strapped into silver-white heels.

You looked up, your shadowed (e/c) eyes scanning him, a smile growing on your face “looking good hook!” Harry felt his face flush as he grinned and looked down, rubbing the back of his neck.

“yeh think so? It doesn’t really….feel like meh?” you rolled your eyes fondly and walked over to him, cupping his cheeks and making him look you in the eye.

“Harry, you look like Harry, if only a little polished. now come on, my parents are waiting for us” Harry smiled and nodded, holding out his arm for you to take.

“oh by the way lass” you hummed and rose your brow “yeh look amazing too” you laughed and swatted his arm.

“thank you, Harry” just as they passed by Harriet's room, she stepped out, a gorgeous red and black dress swirling around her, black boots on her feet. “holy shit Harriet you look amazing!”

She smirked, flipping her hair over her shoulder and posing “you think so?” you nodded, giving Harriet a once over.

“Really!” you laughed, Harry giving his sister a quick high five as you passed her. Gil was already at the bottom of the stairs, waiting for them.

He had a nice navy suit on, with his usual rings and bull necklace, his hair pulled back into a neat bun. “hey guys” he grinned, “Uma and Erza just arrived too”

The two girls waved, your eyes going to the corsage on Umas wrist, the teal and scarlet blending with the rest of her outfit.

Smirking you nodded at the corsage, to Erza, who grinned and tilted her head, revealing the teal octopus earrings. ‘nice’ you mouthed, Erza had Uma had grown closer since their first date at Romanos pizzeria, and Erza had asked her to be her date to the banquet today.

“wait is…Uma wearing a corsage?” Harry asked you, squinting his eyes at Umas wrist.

“yeah” you muttered, back, fixing your necklace “her dad gave that to her mom every time they went out someplace fancy, shes just carrying on the tradition” Harry hummed, looking up suddenly as your parents joined you in the main stairway area.

“well,” Robin clapped his hands together, your mom smiling at the seven of you “our guests have arrived, and the banquet is ready! Now the rest of you can go ahead and head in, (y/n) and Harry, as you know we will be entering separately, you'll know when your name is called, (y/n) go ahead and take Harry to the balcony doors” you nodded and pulled Harry off to the balcony doors of the main hall, where the two of you would be announced to enter after your parents.

“uh, lass?” Harry worriedly muttered, glancing back at your friends entering the main hall “wha-“

“The hosts of a party enter differently, we, as the lords and ladies of the land, are basically royalty, we get announced in, it's not bad. Gerald, our head servant, will call us in, we walk in, wave, and greet the people, then enjoy the night” you hurriedly explained, pulling Harry behind the doors, waiting for your parents to show up and go through the doors first.

“Alright then…wait how is he-“ you shushed him, backing the two of you up as your parents arrived and stood in front of the doors.

“you'll be announced as my date” you whispered, standing straight as Gerald called your parent's titles and name.

“announcing the arrival of Lord Loxley, and his Lady Marian” the doors opened and your parents stepped through, waving to the cheering and clapping crowd, the doors closed after them.

Harry took a deep breath, pulling at his jacket, you squeezed his hand and kissed his cheek “don’t worry, you’ll be fine, they usually don’t bother me, hell one time I spilled an entire thing of punch one time and they were more concerned that if I was unharmed than the fact I had embarrassed myself” Harry gave you a soft smile, the people of Sherwood did seem nice at the fair earlier, hopefully, the ones here were just as nice.

“announcing, the young lady (y/n), and her date, Harry, of Auradon!” the doors opened, and you and Harry stepped through to stand next to your parents, overlooking the main hall full of nobles, and peasants of Sherwood, applauding for you and Harry, beaming up at the balcony.

“friends, I think we’ve waited long enough” your dad stretched his arms wide “let us enjoy tonight, eat! Drink! And be merry!” the crowd cheered as the band began to play, your parents bowed their heads you and Harry, you bowed back and directed Harry to the stairs on your right, your parents descending to the main hall on the stairs to their left.

As you hit the bottom of the stairs, Erza and Uma pushed through the crowd, Eza hopping into your side and grinning at you “how ya doing, oh lady of Loxley~” you snorted and pushed her face away, tugging on Harry's arm and leading him to the refreshment table.

“shes no fun” Erza chuckled, holding out her arm for Uma to take and followed you.

“lady Loxley, Sir Harry.” Trevor greeted, holding out two glasses of a bubbling yellow-orange tinted drink “your sparkling apple cider” you nodded to him and grabbed one, nodding for harry to grab the other

“thank you, Trevor, how's David?” you asked, sipping on the drink, he grinned and swooned a little.

“wonderful, he built an entertainment system for James yesterday” you giggled with him and nodded, pulling Harry off to the main table, where you, your parents, and friends would sit.

“lass I have no idea what I’m doin’ ” Harry muttered, glancing around at the nobles surrounding him. You looked up at him, tilting your head and smiling.

“Harry you'll be fine, at most, all you'll have to do is smile and wave, I’ll be by your side the entire night, unless my dad pulls me off for some dancing or whatever” you hummed, guiding him to his seat and plopping down next to it.

“alright” Harry muttered, eyes going wide at the huge selection of food before him “i-wha-“ he licked his lips, looking to you for guidance. “eat” you supplied, taking a few legs of turkey.

Harry shrugged and started to shove things on his plate, glancing to his right has Harriet sat next to him. “hey, quite a show on that entrance” she teased, Harry rolled his eyes, biting down on a square of cornbread.

“oh fuck off, wasn’t meh choice” he muttered, ignoring Harriet's chuckle and grabbed the bowl of mutton slices and threw some on his plate.

“oh Embers here!” you cheered, Harry looked up, glancing at his sister, who was turning red as she stared at the approaching family. He snorted and looked to where Harriet was staring.

A large blonde man (who easily could have passed as Gil's dad oddly enough), with a beautiful brunette woman on his arm, the lady knight just next to them, her well-built form mostly hidden in a silver dress, her arms out on full display.

Harry snorted as his sister drooled for a moment before she caught herself and shook her head, looking down at her lap “what the hell is wrong with meh” she muttered, placing her palm on her forehead.

Little John opened his arms, Robin greeting him back and accepting the hug, gasping as the larger man wrapped his arms around your dad and squeezed him “Robin, how nice it is to see you again! We haven’t hung out in a bit!”

“John-“ Robin wheezed, tapping Little John's arm rapidly “can't breathe!” John gasped and released him, holding onto robin's shoulders to steady him “thank you” Robin took a deep breath.

John chuckled and pat him on the back, sending Robin to the ground. Harry winced as you burst out into laughter.

Ember perked up, patting her mom on the back and walking over to the table. “lady Loxley~!” Ember cheered, a thick forest English accent coating her tongue, Harriet's jaw dropped.

“fuuuuck that accent” she muttered, squeaking as Ember smirked and glanced at her, she ducked behind Harry who pushed her away from him. “asshole”

“bitch” Harry taunted back, mentally cackling as ember nodded to you and passed harry to lean on the table to talk to Harriet.

“saw you at the competition earlier~ I would love to know the name of the beauty in front of me” Harriet couldn’t speak, only able to stare at Ember's arms.

“ ‘er names Harriet” Harry offered, slapping his chest as he contained his laughter as Ember took one of Harriet's hands and kissed it, winking at the blushing pirate.

“Harriet~  a wonderful name” Harriet let out a series of babbles, nodding as Ember offered a dance with her later.

Harriet turned to the giggling Harry as Ember walked away to her seat, smacking him in the shoulder and slumping in her chair “fuck off”

Uma, Erza, and Gil joined at the main table a moment later, making their plates and joining in on the simple conversation.

Soon the tables were cleared for dancing, and your mother encouraged the whole hall to join in. you sighed, standing from your seat and holding out your hand to Harry.

“whaaat are yeh doin’?” Harry muttered, looking at your hand confused.

“my mother will make me dance at some point, it'll make her happy if I do of it my own will before she makes me, and you're my date….so” Harry sighed and took your hand, standing and leading you to the dance floor, joining your parents and a couple of other dancers

As you and Harry danced to the fast-paced folk music, you noticed, Ember and Harriet swinging around, giggling with each other, and spinning the other when they could.

You pointed them out to Harry, who let out a loud laugh, sticking out his tongue at Harriet when she flipped him off.

Harry picked you up and lifted you into the air, turning on his heel as he did, you laughed and held onto his shoulders, squealing as Erza took your hand and danced off with you, switching Uma with Harry, who just shrugged and spun Uma for a moment and pulled her away to dance, the sea witch laughed and forced Harry to dip her, he brought her up and passed her to Gil, and caught the girl he was dancing with.

As the music came to its end, Harry spun himself around one last time, catching someone and ending up face to face with them, only inches away.

He lost his breath, you bright eyes staring back into his, his arm wrapped tightly around your waist, you let out a loose laugh and leaned forward to kiss his cheek “thank you Harry” you giggled, grabbing his hand and pulling him off the dance floor, watching as another song started and the dancers come alive once more.

You whispered that you would be getting a drink for the two of you and would be right back, Harry nodded and leaned back on the wall, watching as his sister and Ember danced with each other, matching grins as they stared into each other's eyes.

He jumped as a cup of sparkling apple cider appeared in front of his face, sighing as he looked down the arm and saw (y/n), smiling and looking towards the dancers.

He took the cup and sipped the cinder, snorting as Gil, Uma, and Erza performed this odd three-way mock tango to a song that did not fit the tango

“Thank yeh (y/n)” harry muttered, smiling at you as you rose ur brow in confusion “fer all of this, they’ve been…down since Knotts, and this is jus’ what we needed, so thank yeh”

You grinned and leaned into his arm, “no problem Harry, thank you for coming with me”

Harry finished off his drink and set it on the table next to him, turning to you and holding out his hand “shall we dance?”

You laughed and set your drink down, taking his hand and giving him a curtsy “we shall”

=

“like its dynamite, and I told you once, now I told you twice now we light it up, like its dynamite!” Erza sang in a loud out of tune voice, laughing as Uma tried to cover her mouth.

“shuuuut up!” Uma growled, squealing as Erza pulled her up and tossed her on the bed.

You chucked a pillow at Erza who pouted and chucked it back. You coughed at the impact and glared at her playfully “come on ‘ood” she taunted, getting into a fighting position.

You sighed and tossed your book on the floor and cracked your neck, pouncing onto the now screaming Erza “wait no I’m sorry ah!”

“too late, face your doom!” you cackled, getting her into an arm lock and holding her tightly to your chest. She tapped your arm almost immediately and you released her, she slapped your leg and rolled away from you, puffing her cheeks in anger.

“jerk”

“bitch” you barked back, a sharp grin on your face. A knock sounded at your door, your mother's face peeking through, Harriet sliding in behind her and jumping on the bed behind Uma, making the smaller girl bounce a bit.

“goodnight girls, try to keep it down” you gave her a salute and nodded, Erza and Uma nodding.

“got it, thanks (y/n)s mom” Erza grinned, Marian rolling her eyes fondly at her old “nickname” Erza used when she was young and awkward. She slinked back from the door and shut it, walking back to her and robins room.

“soooo Harriet” you started, grinning at Erza and Uma “how was Ember?~” Harriet turned red and proceeded to chuck a pillow at you, muttering something about pretty girls and strong arms.

You snorted and grabbed your movie for the night, letting Erza rip open the bag of popcorn and go at it.

“Alright, let's watch Spaceballs!” you cheered, popping in the movie into the DVD player and settling between Erza and the edge of the bed.

“yee” Erza cheered softly, opening another bag of m&ms. Uma slumped into Erza’s side and rose her brow as the opening credits started to play.

“So what's this movie?”

“a comedy” you explained “by Mel Brooks, you'll love it I promise”

“Alright then” she muttered, reaching over Erza’s arm to snatch a handful of m&ms.

About an hour and a half later, your mom re-entered the room, cooing as she looked on the sleeping forms of your little group.

Uma and Erza were curled up on the floor, a fuzzy grey blanket tossed over the two of them, Harriet took the couch, stretched out and an arm tossed over her eyes.

You were dead asleep on your bed, face buried in your pillows. Marian stepped into the room and shut off the TV, cleaning up the half spilled popcorn on the floor and setting the bowl on the entertainment stand.

“goodnight girls” she whispered, kissing your forehead and tiptoeing out of the room.

-end of part 14-

permtaglist

@queer-cosette​

@sephiralorange​

@lunanight2012​

@daughter-of-the-stars11​

@musicarose​

@random-thoughts-003​

@amorathegamingkitsune​

@rintheemolion​

[doubleleoenergy]

VI; Blue Bayou Series

Oh that boy of mine, by my side. The silver moon and the evening tide.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: TFAWS!Sam Wilson x fem!Reader

Summary: Finale of the Blue Bayou Series

Warnings: Fluff, mentions of hospitals, mentions of eating

Word Count: 1560

Author’s Notes: I hope you all enjoyed this series! I cannot wait to write more Sam fics!

“When is y/n coming?” Sarah asked expectantly, setting a pot of boiled crawfish on the picnic table. Today was an important day for Sam, helping Sarah finish setting up for one of their famous Wilson cookouts. Everybody in the community was invited, as always, and most of the people who were in attendance had been close with Sam and Sarah’s parents.

Sam ran a lap around the table, chasing after AJ and Cass who were in a fit of giggles before they ran off along the docks. “Soon, her class was finishing up their final exam this afternoon.” He huffed, stopping to catch his breath. It had been four months since the mission that had sent him to the hospital, his arm and ribs fully healed, the only scar left on his right hip bone. 

He had taken the first two months of his recovery off from missions to fully heal his body and get his mind right, which was incredibly easy since he had y/n around. She was the light of his life, his other half, and he loved her with all his heart. Sam wasn’t convinced of the term soulmates until he met her, and since he had his life had changed for the better. His healing process was unmatched with a caretaker like y/n, making him dinners and giving him extra special attention in the bedroom.

“Well help me finish setting out this food for everyone, we don’t need a group of hangry guests.” Sarah commanded, handing him another pot of crawfish to set out. They had all the fixings ready; crawfish, potatoes, corn, salad, gumbo, jalapeno cornbread, and some of Sarah’s special pecan pies for dessert. Sam set down the other pot of crawfish, noticing Bucky joking around with AJ and Cass, greeting some of the guests that he’d met at their previous cookouts.

“Buck!” He called out, jogging up to the man and giving him embracing him with a huge bear hug. Bucky’s metal arm squeezes Sam’s shoulder, a huge smile spreading across his face.

“Hey man, y/n here yet?” Bucky looked around the crowd of people, trying to spot her.

“Nah man, she’ll be on her way soon though.” Sam crossed his arms over his chest, swaying a bit on the heels of his shoes. Six months. It had been six months since he had first met y/n. And now Sam was about to do something that brought him both excitement and anxiety at the same time.

“She’ll say yes, Sam. Y/N’s love for you is undeniable. I really hope to find someone as great as she is.” That sure as hell was a lie from Bucky. He had secretly been seeing Sarah for a few months now, waiting for the right time to tell him. If Sam was riding high on y/n saying yes, Bucky was in the clear with his secret.

“Yeah, yeah I hope so. Go ahead and sit down and eat.” Sam patted Bucky on the shoulder before heading back over to Sarah to get the rest of the food set up. This needed to go well, especially for y/n.

An hour later and the cookout was in full swing, everyone eating and having a great time. Sam and Bucky were sitting at a picnic table near the dock, talking about an upcoming mission when y/n arrived. She was so beautiful, and Sam couldn’t help but stop his train of thought to stare at her. Her curves were accentuated by the blush pink floral dress that wrapped around her figure, her strappy wedges strutting as she walked. She made her way over to Sarah, giving her a hug before AJ and Cass ran towards her, hugging her tightly and handing her a few wildflowers they had picked in the grass.

Her eyes scanned until she met Sam’s gaze, her plush lips curling into a smile. The way she smiled had Sam’s heart beating in his chest, standing up and walking towards her. Her left hand still gripped the wildflowers as he picked her up in his arms, slotting his lips against hers in a passionate kiss.

Y/N wrapped her arms around his neck, breaking the kiss after a moment with a loud gasp. “You just saw me this morning…” She teased, letting go of his neck as he set her back on her feet.

Sam shrugged his shoulders, his hands running down her arms until he held her free hand. “I can’t be excited to see you?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, placing another soft kiss against his lips. “I’m excited to see you too. Also, I’m starving. Sitting in a classroom of kids quietly working on their final really worked up my appetite.” She pulled Sam over to the table he and Bucky had staked claim of, giving Bucky a side hug as she sat down beside him.

“How’ve you been Buck?” She asked, grabbing a plate off the table and starting to pile it with the contents from the cookout. Bucky continued to break apart a crawfish, sucking on the head before digging into the body.

“Been good, Sam keeps me busy as always.” Bucky responds, a wide smile on his face. Y/N places a forkful of salad into her mouth, swallowing before working open a crawfish of her own. Sarah always made the best food, Sam learning first-hand from her and then teaching y/n. The meals y/n had consumed since moving to Louisiana were better than most of the food she had in her lifetime.

“You’re always busy, now that Sammy’s all healed up it seems like missions have taken off.” She countered, taking a bite of her crawfish.

Sam couldn’t help but zone out as Bucky and y/n talked, the small black box burning a hole in his front pocket. He needed to wait at least until she was finished eating, his leg bouncing nervously as he watched them converse again. This was the most nervous he had been in his entire life, including all his missions, but it would hopefully all be worth it soon enough.

A few hours had passed, y/n moving from table to table chatting with the guests. It was great to see her enveloped in conversation with the community he loved, and the people who were there for him through everything. He loved that his close friends and family loved her as much as he did.

The sun was starting its descent in the sky, the nervous jitters setting in as he realized what he was about to do. Sam took a deep breath, standing up from the table he was sitting at before moving closer to the docks, facing the group of picnic tables.

“Could I uh-could I get everyone’s attention for a moment please.” Sam shouted, waiting for the groups before him to quiet down, moving their attention from their individual conversations to him. “Y/N, can you come up here please?” He asked, holding out his hand as he waited for her to weave through the throngs of people.

“Sam, what’s going on?” She whispered, letting go of his hand as she stood before him, her bottom lip caught between her teeth.

Sam’s heart fluttered in his chest, his nervousness slipping away as he focused on her and continuing to breathe. “When I first became Captain America, I didn’t know what I was doing. It was hard to meet people again with my new identity, getting stopped on the street all the time to take a picture with someone or having to Facetime with a fan whose parent I had met on the street. It was all very overwhelming, until I met you. You knew who I was and didn’t let that shroud your judgement of me. Our first date, when you told me that you wanted to go out with Sam Wilson, that Captain America was not just all of me, was the first time in a long time where I felt normal. Every day since then has been an adventure with you, getting to know you and having you get to know me better. We’ve laughed, we’ve cried, we’ve gotten through a few bumps and bruises.” Sam paused, a wide smile spreading on his face.

“I told you at the hospital that I wanted to love you forever, and I meant that. And today’s the day we can start that forever.” Sam stepped back, moving to get down on one knee, his hand fumbling around in his pocket for the box.

“W-what are you doing?” Y/N asked, her eyes wide as she watched his motions.

“Y/F/N Y/M/N Y/L/N...I love you with every fiber of my being. Will you make me the happiest man in the world and marry me?” He pulled out the black velvet box from his pocket, revealing a 2-carat marquise diamond cut ring nestled inside an 18k white gold band.

Tears fell from y/n’s cheeks, her head shaking up and down excitedly. “Yes...yes of course I’ll marry you Sam!” Sam got up from where he kneeled and swept her up into his arms, kissing her lovingly. The crowd of people cheered behind them, Sam’s hand shaking as he guided the ring on her ring finger. Y/N admired it for a moment before peppering kisses along his face, nuzzling her face into his neck.

“You’re my forever, Sam. I cannot wait to be Mrs. Samuel Wilson.”

Figured you’d like to get tagged in the finale: @midnightf​

[saxxxology]

What Lurks Beneath the Surface - 1

After Sam’s ultimate sacrifice, you struggle to cope. When he shows up after months of being gone, you’re happier than ever to see him. That is, until you realize that the love of your life is much different than you remember. 

PAIRING: Soulless!Sam x Reader WARNINGS: canon divergence (season 6), angst, suspense, violence, smut, minor dub-con, and more. NOTE: Some elements of this series are a little darker than what I usually write. Warnings are sporadic to avoid spoilers - send me an ask if you have any concerns!

Read the entire series on Patreon for just $3

Series Masterlist

Every night after Sam’s death you drink to him. there’s always a bottle of something in your apartment, and you don’t touch it other than to drink in Sam’s memory. Each day his absence hurts just a little more, and on some days it aches so bad you can barely make it out of bed to go to work.

One morning you call in sick and spend the day crying in your bedroom, hugging your pillow and sobbing into the stained pillowcase. You whisper I miss you one second and then curse him the next. Damn you, Sam, you think. Damn you for giving up like that.

And then you wonder if Sam even wanted to make it out alive. Maybe he wanted to die.

For weeks, you try calling Castiel. All you want is a friend, and you’ll take the socially awkward angel as a goddamn roommate if it gets you somebody to talk to.

Castiel doesn’t answer. 

Halloween is the first holiday to pass. Sam never liked Halloween, so you don’t dress up or decorate your apartment or go outside to hand out candy. You don’t even watch a horror movie; Sam was always there to protect you when the fake ghosts or monsters got too scary when you were little. Again, while tiny fists knock on your door, high-pitched voices yelling “trick or treat,” you repeat your ritual of drinking to him, making your count rise to exactly eighty.

Eighty days without your best friend.

Next comes Thanksgiving, and you make the long, cold drive to see Dean and Lisa. You spend three days with them, staying up late baking cornbread and cookies with Lisa, letting Ben teach you how to play video games, and the night before you leave, you and Dean go out to a bar and have a drink for Sam. 

It feels good to drink with someone else for once.

A few days after you get back home, you’re out getting groceries, and out of the corner of your eye, you think you see him. There’s the blur of a dark gray jacket and brown hair, and the height makes it all the more realistic, but by the time you look up, the blur is gone, replaced by a white-haired old lady who’s easily a foot and a half shorter.

You shake it off, thinking it’s just your overactive imagination.

On Christmas Eve, you’re sadder than usual. Christmas was your favorite holiday to celebrate with Sam, and now that he isn’t here, it seems pointless to do anything related to it. But your apartment is so dark and dreary that you finally decide that wallowing in sadness is getting unhealthy. You spend the morning cleaning up, throwing out empty cans and bottles and you actually decide to test out your dishwasher for the first time since you moved in.

After cleaning and plugging in an apple-scented air freshener, you go out and get a small tree and set it up on your coffee table. A string of little white lights and golden ornaments light up the dark green branches, and when you finally turn them on, they light up your entire living room. It makes you smile, and you go to your room, dig out your brand new Polaroid camera, and snap a picture. The flash goes off, and within seconds the little rectangle of paper falls into your lap.

You hold it up, examining the picture. It’s still not completely focused, so you decide to let it set and grab your phone. You take a quick picture of your tree and send it to Dean.

    < Merry Christmas! :)

A few minutes later, your phone chimes, and Dean’s caller ID pops up on your screen.

“Hey.” You answer the phone with the hint of a smile on your face.

“Hey, kiddo, how are you?” Dean’s voice is rough, but quiet, like it usually is after he’s had a couple drinks.

“I’m holding up,” you reply, “what about you?”

Dean exhales heavily, and you wonder if he’s alone and drinking his feelings away. “I’m… not okay, but I’m not going downhill either.” He clears his throat. “It’s just different.”

“Yeah, I know…” you swallow and look at the setting ink on your photo. “I miss him.”

“I miss him too,” Dean says quietly. “Lisa took one of the pictures I have of him and got it printed on a Christmas ornament, it’s hanging on our tree.”

“That’s sweet of her.” You smile. “Maybe I’ll come out for New Year’s Day, we can light fireworks with Ben.”

“Yeah.” Dean replies. The sound of a door closing echoes in the background, and Dean inhales. “Hey, I’ll call you tomorrow morning, maybe we can Skype or something.”

“All right,” you whisper. “Take care of yourself, okay?”

“Sure thing, kiddo. Merry Christmas.”

The line goes dead, and you toss your phone onto the table. The Polaroid still isn’t ready, so you reach under the couch and pull out the box of photos that you’ve collected over the years. You’re searching for one in particular, your all-time favorite out of over a hundred.

It’s an old polaroid of you and Sam on one of the few good days you had when you were younger; John had left the two of you at a mall while he took Dean to an indoor firing range, and the two of you had saved up enough for a Polaroid camera and some slides. In the photo, it’s Sam’s seventeenth birthday, and you’re holed up with the boys in a motel room with a ten-dollar cake and a bundle of multicolored balloons. Dean had taken the photo of the two of you right before Sam blew out the candles, and for once, the smiles you have in the picture aren’t faked.

You set the picture back in the box and reach over to reexamine your brand new photo. It’s a little blurry from the flash, but you reach over to grab a Sharpie and title it anyway.

You’re about to tuck the photo into the box next to the birthday one when you see something.

There’s a shadow in the section of the window that’s included in the photograph. A very human-like shadow.

You examine it closer, leaning forward so that the picture is illuminated by the Christmas lights. The shadow is clearly human, and it’s right outside your window, like someone is walking up the stairs to get to your apartment.

Mail deliveries don’t run this late, and you doubt anyone other than Dean has your address.

You rush into your bedroom and grab a magnifying glass from your desk. Flicking on your lamplight, you lean in to examine the shadow in detail.

The person’s clearly tall, from their position on the stairs and the height of your window. You move the magnifying glass a little to the left and freeze.

That profile… you’d know that damn nose anywhere.

You run out of your bedroom, down the short hall into your living room, to the front door. You wrench it open step out into the cold air, not caring that your bare feet are immediately freezing on the light covering of snow.

The only cars in the parking lot belong to the people who live there. There aren’t any fresh tire marks in the snow. You turn on the light outside your door and feel a hot rush of adrenaline flood your body.

Coming up the stairs and stopping right in front of you are boot prints, made by someone heavy enough to pack an inch of snow down and reveal the cement landing. You rub your eyes, thinking your imagination must be running wild, but when you open them, the prints are still there. You bend down and brush your fingers over the edge of the snow, examining the tracks carefully.

Sam’s boots. You know the indentations like the back of your hand, well over ten years of watching Sam walk through mud or through an old rain puddle had forced the pattern into your brain.

He can’t be alive… he died, he’s been dead for almost five months…

You’re pulled out of your thoughts by the sound of windows banging open, and you look up to see old Mrs. Alderman peering at you. She’s dressed in a pale pink robe and has her white hair up in curlers.

“Y/N, honey, get inside, you’ll catch your death,” she chides.

“I will…” you offer a smile and stand up. “Did you... did you see anyone just now?”

Mrs. Alderman tilts her head. “Out where, honey?”

“Here, by my door.” Your heart thuds wildly in your chest as you watch the old woman carefully.

She nods. “I did, tall guy, long hair, didn’t get a good look at his face.” She motions down the stairs. “He left a good minute before you opened the door. Looked like somethin’ spooked him.” She giggles raspily. “Thought you might have a boyfriend or somethin’ coming over.”

You nod and step back inside your apartment before she can say anything else. You don’t have anything of Sam’s that he could be attached to. Dean had taken his laptop and stash of books with him, leaving you with only the box of photos, but Sam didn’t know that half of them existed, and the others probably not enough to have a memory to hang on to. And Sam would never let himself stay on earth like that, as a ghost or spirit.

You go to the window and slide your curtains closed, blocking any view from outside before doing the same to every other window in the house. You grab the canister of salt from the top shelf in the kitchen and draw a thick line in front of the door, then over all the windowsills in the apartment. It seems stupid, but for the first time in five months, you feel like you’re in danger.

Sam had a lot of weight on his shoulders when he died, and you’ve seen the damage vengeful spirits can do, to both inanimate objects and people.

Finally, when you come back to look at the photograph, you collapse on your bed, holding the paper close to the lamplight.

The silhouette of the face, the height, the description Mrs. Alderman gave you… it terrifies you. There’s no possible way Sam could be alive, or that his spirit could make it to Earth. From the time he was six months old, Sam was damned to hell and nothing he could do could alter it. Demons are probably getting a kick out of knowing he’s down there, battling it out with Lucifer for the rest of time. Tears sting your eyes, and with a glance at the clock you realize it’s time for your nightly ritual. 

Slowly, like there’s a weight pulling you down, you rise from the bed and stumble into the kitchen. You pull a brand new bottle of whiskey off of the counter and wrench the top out.

“Miss you, Sammy.” You whisper, and then you tilt the bottle back and take a long, burning swallow.

You feel like you’re falling and you land on something cold and soft and wet. Your fingers tangle in what feels like long blades of grass, and when you open your eyes, the sky is white above you.

There’s a grunt, the THWACK! of a fist connecting with flesh and bone, and the sound of a body falling to the ground.

Turning your head to the source of the sound, you realize you’re in Stull Cemetery, lying not twenty feet from where Sam was standing over his brother, the fingers of one hand curled into a fist, the other hand holding Dean’s shirt with an iron grip.

Bobby’s lying a few feet away from you, his neck turned at an awkward angle. You remember now; Lucifer had snapped his neck before throwing you over the hood of the Impala, the force of your flight enough to stun you on impact.

“Bobby…” You reach out for him, touching his shoulder in a vain attempt to wake him, but he doesn’t move. You hear Sam’s fist connect with Dean’s face again, and Dean’s pleading with him to stop… 

Lucifer lets Dean drop to the ground, blood flowing freely from his nose and several cuts across his face. He turns away from you, looking out beyond the tall, black gates of the cemetery. You crawl backwards behind a tall headstone, cowering as Lucifer forced Sam’s body to revolve, his back ramrod straight, eyes narrowed, searching for any living thing in a place of death.

“Y/N…” Lucifer calls your name, taunting you. “Come out, come out, wherever you are.”

Dean groans from his position on the ground and looks up at the imposing figure above him. “Don’t you dare hurt her!”

Lucifer stops, and from around the headstone you can see the hint of a smirk playing on Sam’s fine features. You hide your face as he turns, and you hear Dean shout in pain as his head snaps back, slamming against the side of the Impala hard enough to knock him out.

“Now…” 

You cower in fear as Lucifer strides closer to where you’re hiding, his steps even and heavy on the damp earth, and fallen leaves crunch eerily under his boots. 

“You can come out and give yourself up, by choice, or…” he stops a few feet away from the headstone, and you hear him take a deep breath, “you can make me come and get you myself. Cas is gone, Bobby’s gone, Dean’ll be out for a while, and Sam...” he scoffs, “Sam’s screaming in here, screaming your name…”

You whimper and cover your mouth, tucking your legs up underneath you. You hear Lucifer pacing away, and you sign in relief.

“I could let him out, you know?” Lucifer says. “I could let you hear the agony he’s in, let you know how bad he wants you to save him. Probably because he’s too weak to save himself.”

Those words make you feel rage over fear, and you stand up from your hiding spot, run around the headstone, and charge the devil.

“You bastard!” you scream, and you raise your fists as your body collides with Sam’s and you strike at his face, kicking and slapping at him even as he grabs hold of your wrists and holds you still. You’re forced to look into his face as he raises a hand to grip your throat, and those dark, glittering eyes are the last thing you see before he flicks his wrist, and your vision goes dark.

You jerk awake, still screaming and crying. Your body is drenched in sweat and there are tears streaming down your face.

“It was a dream,” you tell yourself. “It was just a dream, it wasn’t real…”

Sinking back against the twisted sheets, you feel the darkness return, that cold weight that presses you down into the mattress and stops you from moving.

Sam needed you in that cemetery. Lucifer had said so. Sam needed you and you hadn’t done jack to save him. 

What kind of friend were you?

SIX MONTHS LATER...

You’re feeling good for the first time in a while, and when you get yet another sizable paycheck (you’ve been working extra shifts to avoid your apartment since Christmas), you take the opportunity to take a road trip and visit Dean, Lisa, and Ben at their new house. You stay for a weekend, reconnecting with Dean and poring over old memories of growing up with the Winchesters.

When you get back to the apartment on Monday afternoon, however, you have a bit of trouble parking.

Some asshole’s parked a shiny black Dodge Charger in your spot.

“Are you serious?!” You pull into the spot across from Asshole Number One and grab your bags. “What the hell is wrong with people...”

That night you take a long bubble bath to relax from the stress of travel. When you finally drain the water and slip on your brand new robe, you feel completely relaxed for the first time in months. Hell, you might even get more than five hours of sleep tonight. You towel your hair almost dry and toss the towel into a hamper before slipping on pajama shorts and a baggy shirt and pacing into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water from the fridge. You’re back in your bedroom when you get the scare of a lifetime.

Two large, strong arms wrap around you from behind, and one hand comes up to cover your mouth. You scream, but the sound is muffled and when you try to open your mouth to bite, you find that your jaw can barely move under the force.

Kicking wildly, you manage to land your heel just below your assailant’s knee, but their hold doesn’t loosen. You flail your arms above your head, searching out eyes to scratch or a nose to break. Your attacker pushes you towards the bed, and your legs go out from under you as they shove you down, hard enough to knock the air from your lungs. Gasping for air, your screams are half-silenced when they roll you onto your back, using their entire body to hold down your writhing form.

The gun, you think, get to the gun in the nightstand!

You manage to get your legs up and kick, hard. The person on top of you, now evidently male, grunts with pain and stumbles back as you crawl backwards on the bed, reaching for the only weapon in the room.

He’s back on top of you before you know it, dragging you underneath him and pinning you down. Again, he covers your mouth with his hand, muffling your groans and screams of fear.

No, no, please no…

Your lungs burn for oxygen, tears of fear streaming from your eyes and dripping down your face. You thrash around harder, hitting the body above you with fists that grow weaker with every second.

I’m gonna die… I’m gonna die tonight.

You let out one more gasping cry before you succumb to the darkness.

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[nataliedanovelist]

GF - Where the Crop Circles Grow ch.1

Summary: When things get out of hand at the Pines’ family farm, Ford asks an old college buddy to assist investigating anomalies and Stan hires a farmhand. Who knew asking for help would actually get you somewhere?

For @lemonfodrizzleart. Part of her Farmer AU and featuring her OC, Jackie Asante.

Ao3 link here.

ch.2

~~~~~~~~~~

“Jackie, was it?” Stan repeated as he rocked in his chair, the shade feeling comfortable with the warm summer’s day baking everything that dared to escape air conditioning.

“Yes, sir.” The woman repeated. Her ankles were crossed as she sat in her rocking chair, her hands on her lap. Nerves hindered her normal behavior; Never in a million years would she sit like this, unless she really wanted a job and wanted to impress her potential employer.

The man in a gray t-shirt (it might have been white at some point), dirty jeans, and boots raised an eyebrow at her and waved the response away with a strong hand. “First off, there’s no need for all that sir-stuff, okay? I ain’t that old.”

Jackie let out a good-natured snort and smiled more relaxed. “Okay.” She sat a little bit more relaxed, now one knee over the other, and she rocked a little in her blue-jeans, white t-shirt, and light-purple jacket, the bottoms of the side tied together and her sleeves rolled up.

Stan looked at her, reading her as if she was a book, and he instantly knew he would like her. Something in the sparkle in her dark eyes, something in the way she held herself up promised the whole world that she was way more capable than what people initially believed and she was going to rub it in their faces.

Okay, now that he got that out of the way, what was he supposed to do now? Sixer probably had a pamphlet full of things to do or a check-list in his brain of what to ask her, but that genius got distracted by some new freaky thing and ran off into the woods, but not without telling Stan to interview the potential farmhand. Why’d he have to do this? It was all Sixer’s idea. While a farmhand was probably a good idea, Stan would’ve hoped they could save the dough by making Ford and his friend from college work, but both brothers knew that wasn’t going to happen. Well, she was here. Might as well get her a drink.

“Want a soda or somethin’?” Stan asked as he stood and stretched his arms over his head, his shirt stretched tightly over his gut and strong chest.

Jackie shrugged with a smile and stood. “Sure, thanks.”

Stan waved towards himself casually, signalling her to follow him, and he led the way inside the house. Jackie followed him and allowed herself to take in the space without being too nosy. In front of the doorway was a big living room with a yellow-plaid couch and matching armchair, a card table, a wood-burning stove, and even a TV. An owl-themed tick-tock clock hooted the time (11:00am) with eleven wheezy hoots. Stan led the way to the left, the opposite direction of the stairs leading up to the second floor, and into the kitchen.

Jackie’s face flinched a little bit at the state of the room, a big mess all over the table and every square inch of counter decorated with books, food, and dirty dishes. Jackie stood at the doorway and couldn’t help but notice a picture of a family hanging by her head. A man with a straw hat and sunglasses stood tall and strong behind his family, while his wife sat with a set of twins in her arms, hugging them with a big smile. A third boy, about three years older than the twins, smiled in front of the father and besides the mother. 

“Well, this here’s the kitchen.” Stan narrated pointlessly to fill the air, stealing Jackie from her thoughts. His head was in the fridge but he soon emerged with two glass bottles of Pitt soda. He even popped one open for Jackie before giving it to her. “Livin’ room’s just by the door, then past the stairs is two bedrooms, one’s a master with a bathroom, and then upstairs is the attic and two more bedrooms.”

“Nice place.” Jackie complimented.

“Thanks.” Stan said after a sip of soda. “Pa left it to me and my brother. We got another brother, Shermie, but he’s workin’ for a bank in California. Got a kid now and everythin’.”

“Ah, somebody’s an uncle.” The dark-skinned woman commented with a smile.

Stan grinned proudly and seemed to have straightened his stance just a little bit. “Yup. Anyways, what made you wanna work here?”

Jackie shrugged. “I’ve always liked the fresh air n’ workin’ hard. My mama used to say sittin’ still’s a sin.”

Stan smiled in agreement. He was right; he liked this girl. “Okay, so what can you do?”

Jackie took a second to think of what she can do that applies to a farm. Really, in her mind the list kept growing. She couldn’t think of a single thing she couldn’t do if she really tried, so she gave him a sly smile and said, “Anythang.”

Stan barked a laugh and freed a finger from holding the bottle to point at her. “I like your style! Alright, so how much you want a month?”

“Eight-hundred.”

Stan raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you think that’s a little high?” Not that he was worried; he liked to negotiate.

“Don’t you think I need enough to rent a place?” Jackie returned.

Stan snorted. “If you’re looking for a place to stay, we’ve got three… well, two bedrooms we aren’t usin’. You could stay with us rent-free for cheaper pay.”

“Well how much you willin’ to fork over?”

Stan grinned. Yup, he liked her. He wasn’t going to lose such a promising worker. “Five-hundred a month.”

“Deal.” Jackie held out a hand to shake.

Stan grasped it and shook. “Then you’re hired. You can have tomorrow to move in and…”

“No, I can start work tomorrow.” Jackie insisted. “Just give me this afternoon.”

Stan grinned. “Alright, fine. You’ll start first thing in the mornin’ tomorrow. You’ll know when. Go get what you need and I’ll show you your room and give you the full tour of the farm. There’s a stable and chicken coop and barn and fields full of work, as you saw comin’ in. You’ve got your work cut out for you.”

Stan exited the kitchen, giving Jackie a good look at the dirty kitchen. She sneered playfully to herself, “I can see that,” and followed her new boss out of the house.

~~~~~~~~~~

Ford was tired, but satisfied with his success. He collapsed into a rocking chair on the porch and glanced down at the photos in his hands; that polaroid Stanley got him for Hanukkah was being used well. It was so rare to get pictures of the floating eyes so crystal clear, mostly only seeing them at night, but these were lurking in the shadows of the overgrown trees and bush of the woods, and by sheer luck and perfect timing on Ford’s part, he got what he wanted.

The six-fingered investigator pulled out his journal from his messenger bag and bookmarked a page to fill out later with the photos. As he closed the book and became lost in thought at the sight of his golden handprint, the screen door opened and Stanley poked his head in. “Hey, dinnertime, nerd.”

“Coming,” Ford said as his brother left and he got to his feet, suddenly very hungry and ready to eat so he could finish his work for today.

While Stanley sat in a chair, rubbed his hands together, and smacked his lips at the table, Ford stood at the doorway with his jaw hanging like an executed criminal. Laid out on the big table in the kitchen was a plate full of fried chicken, collard greens, a skillet of cornbread, mashed potatoes with cheese, and unless Ford’s nose was playing tricks on him, there was something made of chocolate in the oven. Even more surprising than the mouth-watering meal was the stranger in the house. 

Untying a long apron, a dark-skinned woman with short black hair was standing by the hooks on the walls for keys and hats. She smiled as she hung her apron up and said, “Wash up, Mr. Pines. Oh, excuse me. Dr. Pines.” She added playfully.

Ford snorted. Apparently Stanley already told her about his twelve PhDs. “Please, call me Ford, ma’am.” He requested as he went to the kitchen sink to wash his hands. “Let me guess… you decided to hire Ms. Jackie Asante, Knucklehead?”

“You make it sound like it’s a bad idea.” Stan quipped as Jackie sat in the chair on his right. He threw her a wink, which her eyes sparkled at.

“Quite the contrary, considering she clearly sees fit to celebrate Thanksgiving any day of the year.” Ford said as he sat in the chair across the table from his twin.

Jackie smiled with hot cheeks and shrugged. “Clearly you’ve been starving out here. Well, you can forget TV dinners and take-out for awhile. At least not while I’m breathing.”

“Now hold up, take-out’s delicious.” Stan defended as he brought a chicken leg up to his lip and bit down with a beautiful crunch. His eyes grew wide and he sagged in relief and delight. He munched on his chicken happily and managed to wheeze out between bites. “Fuck take-out.”

“Stanley,” Ford scolded lightly before trying his dinner, but he was amazing and started mumbling swears like a sailor.

Meanwhile, Jackie grinned proudly into her cup of water and started to cut up the cornbread. Maybe getting this job was a good idea after all.