mr. june

Mr. & Mrs. Eric Richard Bittle


Mr. Robert Zimmermann &

Mrs. Alicia Carter Zimmermann

invite you to celebrate

the marriage of their sons


Eric Richard Bittle Jr.


Jack Laurent Zimmermann


Saturday, the twenty-ninth of June

two thousand and nineteen

at eleven o’clock in the morning


Reception to follow


sorry for the long post!!!  a whole bunch of lunchbreak doodles

Of course God does not consider you hopeless. If He did He would not be moving you to seek Him. What is going on in you at present is simply the beginning of the treatment. Continue seeking Him with seriousness. Unless He wanted you, you would not be wanting Him.
—  C.S. Lewis / Letters of C.S. Lewis, to Mrs. Sonia Graham 13 June 1951
Mr. Brightside

Characters: Sam x Reader, Dean

Words: 1557

Warnings: language, implied smut, fluffiness

A/N: The story is from Sam’s POV. This is my entry for the Punk’s Not Dead Challenge by @hannahindie and @pinknerdpanda  

My prompt was “I just can’t look, it’s killing me/And taking control/Jealousy, turning saints into the sea/Swimming through sick lullabies/Choking on your alibis/But it’s just the price I pay/Destiny is calling me/Open up my eager eyes/‘Cause I’m Mr. Brightside” - Mr. Brightside by The Killers. I freaking love this song!  I hope you like this :)

Mr. Brightside

“Let’s go to a bar and celebrate!” Y/N said smiling plopping onto the bed next to me.

“I don’t know,” I said.

“C’mon Sam! Dean, please?” she said making a pout and puppy eyes. I wanted to kiss her right now.

“Ok… C’mon, Sammy. Let’s go and have a good time. Blow some steam.”

I sighed “Ok.”

“I’m showering first,” said Dean.

“Damn it, every time!” said Y/N.

“You need to be faster next time,” I said smiling at her.

“Yeah, next time I’m getting my own room”

“Why?” I asked frowning “Don’t you like sleeping next to me?”

She looked at me “I do like sleeping next to you. You irradiate something that gets me relaxed, and you radiate heat too, you are better than a blanket.”

“That’s because you like me,” I said with a small smile.

“In your dreams Winchester, in your dreams.”

Yeah, in my dreams she was in love with me. I just hoped she did in real life. I’ve never said anything and I’m not planning on telling her soon either. I know she likes me as a friend, not more than that. I don’t want things to get awkward between us if I said something. I don’t want to lose her. Her voice suddenly took me off my thoughts.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Mrs prompt ' Rainy June'

Mulder had forgotten how suddenly a storm could roll through D.C.  Even if the sun was shining, that could turn on a dime.  One minute the sky would be blue, the next minute grey and blustery.  One minute dry, the next torrential.  And then it would roll out as quickly as it came, like it never even happened.  If not for the soggy pavement and dripping trees, you may not have even know it was there.

Scully was back in Georgetown in a little condo not too far from where she’d lived back in the “before” time, as Mulder called it.  Before they were together, before he was dead, before they were childless, before they were fugitives, etc.  They were now in the “after” time.  After they were together, after they couldn’t speak to each other without accusations, after putting everything behind them and moving on.

He’d only been to the condo a handful of times.  He didn’t bother her anymore about the work like he used to.  He kept the cases a 9-5 job, or tried to, at least.  It was Scully now that usually kept him going after hours.  It was she who called him when an idea occurred.  And a few times that just led to an after hour visit that was mostly, strictly business.

Her new neighborhood left much to be desired for parking, but Scully didn’t mind.  She liked to walk, even if it took a half an hour to get from the car to her condo, and it would’ve been more efficient to leave the car at work and take the Metro, she preferred the walk.  Mulder, in the few times he’d been invited over, had liked the extra time with her.

June was notoriously humid, not as bad as July, but still.  Scully parked the car about a mile away in a secret spot she had found and Mulder left his suit jacket in the back of her car to retrieve at a later time.  He rolled his shirtsleeves up as they walked, loosened his tie, and unbuttoned a few buttons.  Scully had her blazer draped over one arm and she clipped her hair up off her neck.

They strolled casually down the quiet residential streets, like a couple on their way home after a long day.  The first time he walked home with her, in fact, an elderly lady that spent her days on the porch of her townhouse a block from Scully’s place, had called out to Scully and asked to be introduced to her husband.  Scully smiled, introduced Mulder, and asked the woman if she needed anything.  Secretly, Mulder had enjoyed the hell out of it.  He liked the old lady’s assumptions about that.  He liked that Scully didn’t correct her.  He pretended in that moment they were on their way home together, stopping in to see the neighbor they helped out on occasion and checked in on.  It felt like the most normal thing in the world.

They only made it half-way to Scully’s place before the weather took a turn.  Scully looked up just before he did when the sun disappeared and the light dimmed grey and ominous.  

“Uh oh,” Mulder said.  “We aren’t gonna make it.”

“Probably not.”

And no sooner had they stopped to look up, did they feel the first drops of rain.  Mulder wiped a spot away from his cheek and Scully blinked one from her eyelash.  There was nowhere to turn for cover.

Moments later, the sky opened, letting loose a flood of rain that had them both hopelessly drenched.  Mulder tipped his face up and closed his eyes, giving in to it and letting it shower him.  He took his hands out of his pockets and held them out to catch it.  And then he heard it.  Over the roar of the storm, Scully was laughing.

Mulder looked down at her and twenty five years melted away until they were back in a graveyard, laughing together in the rain.  They weren’t partners yet, weren’t anything to each other yet, just two people who agreed on something so ridiculous they had to laugh about it and he hadn’t heard her laugh like that ever again.  He didn’t know how it was possible for her to look the same as she did back then, but it might have been the hysterical laughter bubbling up that played a trick on his eyes.  He blinked and she was the same Scully.  Different, but the same.

He started laughing as well because how absurd to be back where you started from after all this time.  A slice of hair was slicked against Scully’s cheek, having worked it’s way loose from her clip while they walked.  He pushed it back over her ear with his wet fingertips and she bit her lower lip, still giggling like the Scully he’d just met so long ago.  

He had to do it.  He leaned down and kissed her laughing mouth, catching the side of her upper lip with his.  It was a New Year’s kiss, hesitant and shy.  An ‘I’m not sure if you’ll let me, but I want to test the waters’ kiss that lasted only a few seconds longer than a friendly peck.

“Mulder,” she murmured, licking rainwater from her mouth or, he hoped, the taste of him.  

“I know I shouldn’t have,” he said.  “But, I just…”

Scully grabbed the bottom of his soaking tie and gave it a tug, bringing him closer.  “I know for a fact you can do better than that,” she said.

The sky cleared only moments later, but he was too busy showing her exactly how he remembered that he could do much better than that.

The End