ready to jingle

anonymous asked:

hey if you're still doing prompts, the time(s) someone outside of the team (or inside) mistakes aaron for andrew or the other way around?? thanks!! i love your writing!!

There should be some sort of rule, Aaron thinks, that identical twins have to avoid celebrity. 

It was disarming enough to be a teenager the first time he saw his own face with nothing inside of it, like an indifferent stone likeness. Then Andrew went and got himself famous, made himself important to everyone (including Aaron). He stares out from magazine spreads with his middle finger up when Aaron goes through the checkout counter, and he follows him closely with his reputation.

He’s had patients bow out of the exam room when they heard their intern was ‘A. Minyard’. He’s had anger and relief flip toggles in his chest when he caved and bought a magazine, finding Andrew and Neil piled in Exy gear to promote a product. They looked uncommitted and severe except when they were jostled together and shot from the side, candid, staring. 

It almost makes him miss the moments with the foxes when everything was as simple as watching Andrew’s face for the changes and catching the wave to the next game.

But it’s better to have the kind of work that he knows he does best, stockpiled for the rest of medical school and the rest of his life after that. It feels good to stretch on rubber gloves and distance himself from the worst sort of rot in the world. 

It feels good for his feet to throb and his head to twist itself into knots, and to come home to Katelyn, who always tries to wait up for him and never can. She passes out with her legs over the armrest of their secondhand couch and her hair fanned over the cushions. He kisses her awake more often than not.

He goes for runs, sometimes, like he never did in college. It’s when his own reflection makes his neck prickle and he thinks, god, he’s here. He’s never not here. If you’re a twin you’re a member of a club, and you’re constantly in uniform.

He gets stopped on the street and asked for his autograph, and he feels comforted to know that his “piss off” is gentler than whatever Andrew would have said. 

He sees his own face hoisted at pride, watches Andrew become half of a relationship that handcuffs exy to entire social movements, and it coaxes old fear into his blood. It takes some wrangling and undoing of rusted closed spigots before he realizes that he’s impressed, too. 

He hates Neil out of habit. He watches the sun make new colours with Katelyn’s hair at 5 am. He puts his alarm on snooze just so he can lie there with her. He likes that his life is a can on a string, and somewhere, tossed out into another state, in a high-rise with blackout curtains and an orange cat, Andrew has the other can.

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Cherry Bomb (Taeyong x Reader)

OOPS! I DID IT AGAIN!!!! I GAVE YOU A SMUT, I WROTE ANOTHER ONE…OH BABY, BABY! Anyway, here’s some yummy retro Taeyong smutty goodness. A little short and sweet, but definitely gets its point across if you know what mean :^)))))))))) Enjoy!

Originally posted by jonqins

It felt weird walking into an arcade, having not visited one since when you were younger. The welcoming sounds of heavily synthesized music, trigger clicks, and the smacking of big plastic buttons brought back a wave of nostalgia and made you smile as you peered over the shoulders of people playing. There were no kids in sight though, just people around your age who laughed and joked, drank, reminiscing in their childhood. You’d been coerced into going to a twenty one and older event at the local vintage arcade that had just opened down the street from your apartment. People were going bananas of the shiny restored arcade machines, vintage interior, and nostalgic music.

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On the road again...


Verity walked out of a rental dealership holding a set of keys. She had a pair of short a white tank top raybands and hightop converse. She smiled at the human rung, “Ready?” she jingled the keys several times then crossed her arms, “And no I’m not letting you drive,” Verity swirled them around her finger then clasped them, “Were in the Blue Chevy Bolt over there. We’re on our own for a week and a half while magnus restocks the ship.”

It’s 🎅 Dickcember 🎅and you know that means. It’s your last chance to get on the naughty list👿📜. Time🕔 to get down⬇ on those knees and then get some candy canes⛄up your gingerbread house🎄👅🍆. Get ready to jingle some balls 🎊this 🎁Hoeliday Season🎁. Before santa 🎅shoves his dick down your chimney 🏠on cockmas eve night, send this to 2⃣️ 5⃣️of your sluttiest 👠👙💄elves. Get 5⃣️ back and your a Orgasm ornament! Get 1⃣️ 0⃣️ back and your an expert North Pole dancer💃💵🍑! Good luck getting the peppermint penis🎄 up your ass 🍑this year
Hurts So Good (Joker/Reader Imagine) •3•

Request: Can you make an imagine where you love being physically abused by the joker?

A/N Can I? Um yes, yes I can. I LIVE for these fics omg, excuse me while I go die

Working with the Joker was something you liked doing, however being the Joker’s girl was something you loved doing. Some days he would come home from work and pull you tightly against his tattooed chest, kissing you, spoiling you, loving you. But then there were days like today. He had left the house in an already bad mood, one of your clients was taken out, and J was not happy when people messed with his elaborate plans, and you had received updates throughout the day, that things kept getting worse. He had killed three men and injured two of your own from the apparent stupidity of the world. 

You stood in your kitchen, wearing only a cropped shirt and short spandex shorts, cooking dinner for yourself and Joker. Checking the timer on the oven there were only ten minutes left until the food would be ready. Suddenly you heard keys jingling and the front door slam open and slam shut, making the large penthouse shake slightly. 

Poking you head out around the corner you took a look at your boyfriend. His pale hands were wrung in his bright green hair, silver teeth bared underneath red lips, his gun tucked into the waist of his pants. “Hey Puddin, dinner’s on.” You yelled from the kitchen. 

There was no reply, only loud footsteps. 

You turned to see J staring at you wildly, “And why, pray tell baby, must you YELL AT ME.” He gripped your face in his hands and shook you roughly. “Just thought you couldn’t hear is all J.” His eyes widened and he suddenly slapped you, “Did I ask you to talk back?” His words were drawn out and low, you shook your head holding back a moan. Seeing your flushed face, he snickered, “You like it when I hurt you?” He smacked you again, this time bringing you to your knees. You looked up at him from the ground, “Yes.” You breathed out. 

Reaching down he yanked you up by your hair and dragged you over to your bedroom, throwing you onto the bed. “Well then in that case, I think I’m gonna hurt ya, really really bad.” He shoved your arms above your head and tied them to the headboard using a dirty cloth from his pocket. He left the room for a brief moment and came back with strap of leather in hand with metal buckles adorning the length. 

Sauntering over to you Joker ran the cool leather down your almost bare legs and back up over your stomach and the tops of your breasts. Smiling he brought down the leather hard on the top of your thigh. You felt the sting of metal flowing through your nerves but didn’t make a sound. Again the brought down the strap onto your other leg, “Tell me what you want” He brought his face close to yours, and you could feel his hot breath on your flushed skin. “I want you J, only and all of you.” He grinned at you. Crashing your lips together he possessed you, his tongue finding way into your mouth, hands roughly roaming your body. 

“If it’s me you want princess, then me you will have, but first I’m gonna have to make you scream.” 

“You’re the Best Nurse Ever!” (Nurse!Damien x Mika)

Damien loved being a nurse. He loved the smiles on the kids’ faces whenever he showed up at the hospital. His bag was always filled with carefully crafted and labeled gift bags, each one made for a unique and special child. Blue was Mary’s favorite color, and Damien made absolutely sure to only have blue M&M’s, a small blue airplane toy and a carefully folded blue ribbon in her bag. Black was Jesse’s favorite, and he had black licorice with a race car and a spinning top in his bag. Some children had a favorite shade or combination, like Lizzy who only liked light shades of yellow and purple together at once, or Sam (a young boy with bone cancer in the west wing of the hospital, who Damien made extra special care to visit every day) who loved black and orange things and tough looking action figures.

With careful hands and loving eyes, Damien made sure that each child had something to look forward to every week. Monday was Treat Day, Tuesday was Story Day, Wednesday was Adventure Day (in which he traveled around the hospital with them on a treasure hunt he put together himself) and Thursday was Magic Day (he had learned some slight of hand tricks from Matthew, and the kids LOVED it). He didn’t work weekends, but he always made sure to stop by to make sure the children’s spirits were high and the smiles remained.

He loved his job, and the children loved him.

Mika was extra careful this year. All her secret notes were in a hidden drawer in her grandfather’s study, and she only ever checked them when her husband was at work. Leafing through the pages, she double checked all the names and the plan before nodding and putting the small planner away. She looked through her bag and double checked the contents before nodding once more. 

“Alright, now to make sure everything is going according to plan over there…” Mika pulled her phone out and dialed a number she had memorized the month before, to avoid arousing suspicion from her husband. After a few rings, a young girl’s voice, maybe about 14, answered.

“Hey, Ms. Mika! Are you on your way?”

Mika smiled. Of all the children at the hospital, Anna was the oldest. A trustworthy girl, Mika would have been sad that she lost her legs in a car accident, but the girl’s energy was so infectious that she couldn’t even dream of being sad around her.

“Yup! I’m about to leave the house now. Are you guys ready?” She could hear the jingle of Anna’s earrings, a gift from Damien, as the girl nodded on the other end of the call.

“We are all set! Nurse Damien is on the other end of the hall doing a story time with the younger children, and he never skimps on that no matter what day it is. You have about another hour before he starts his rounds to everyone.”

“Awesome, thank you! Make sure everyone knows not to announce me being there, otherwise the surprise will be ruined.”

“Will do! See ya soon!”

A happy smile covered Mika’s face as she left the mansion and got into her car. Driving to the hospital was simple, as it wasn’t too far away. Her thoughts wandered to when Damien first mentioned how he wanted to be a nurse. Despite his current career path, he decided that working with children was something he wanted to do, especially children who needed something to cheer them up. As a nurse, he would be able to work directly with kids who needed a ray of sunshine, and he was determined from the beginning to be that exact ray. 

“Damien…you sweet cinnamon roll…I love you…” Mika murmured to herself as she pulled into the parking lot of the children’s hospital 15 minutes after she left her house. Some of the staff were waiting outside for her, and they quickly ushered her in and led her to one of the staircases. Damien’s floor wasn’t that high up, and there was less of a chance of him seeing her if she took the side staircase. She was careful to stay behind the wall of nurses and one doctor as they all crept past the play room (Damien was in the middle of acting out The Three Little Pigs, so he didn’t notice them) to Anna’s room further down the hall. Once there, Mika pulled the bag off her shoulder and handed everyone their items.

“Dr. Sampson, here are the noisemakers. Maddie, you hand out the hats. Josh and Max, make sure they have these wrist bands…”

One by one, each person involved was handed their mission and they slipped out of Anna’s room to the other rooms, gently shushing giggling children as they gave them wristbands, noise makers and hats. Small signs were placed on the doors and a tray of cupcakes was pulled out of it’s secret hiding spot in the staff lounge. Mika went to the middle of the floor and set up Damien’s birthday cake and his present on the front counter. Candles were lit, and Anna (her wheelchair was right next to Mika, though it was a tight squeeze considering that all the kids insisted on waiting in the hallway) cleared her throat just as she saw the silent okay from the wife of everyone’s favorite nurse.

“Nurse Damien! Could you come here, for a moment? I could really use your help!”

She gently hushed an excited squeal from 8 year old Mary, who proudly wore the red heart necklace Damien got her on her birthday that year. She didn’t have much in terms of family, and the family she had was usually really busy, so her birthdays were uneventful. When Damien heard this, he made sure to never miss her birthday, and he always got her something red, her favorite color.

Damien, who had just finished telling the children in the play room the moral of The Three Little Pigs, looked up in curious surprise. Anna never had to call him for anything, so what could it have been? Mild panic whelmed up in his chest before he remembered that there were other nurses and doctors available. So, what could it have been?

“I’ll be right there, Anna! Just give me a moment.” He excused himself from the children in the playroom, not paying any mind to the odd hurried shuffle of the doctor who took his place. He didn’t notice the odd silence in the hall as he walked down to where Anna’s room was. However, he did notice the large group of people standing around the front desk in the middle of the hall. He did notice Mika staring at him with the biggest smile on his face. And, he noticed the cry of “Surprise!! Happy birthday, Damien! The best nurse in the world!!!” ring in his ears from not only in front of him, but behind him. When he turned, he saw the kids and the doctor from earlier donned in the same hats and wristbands as the kids and staff in front of him. Behind his wife was a cake, and an oddly shaped and wrapped gift next to it.

He didn’t notice the tears that came to his eyes. He didn’t notice the grin that bloomed on his face. But, Damien did notice the crowd of children that awww’d and hugged him from all sides, the pats of his co-workers, and the warm embrace and kiss of his wife. Her murmur of “Happy birthday, my love” earned a tight hug in response from him as his heart soared in disbelief and happiness.

His very own birthday party, thrown by the kids he encouraged and the woman who encouraged him. It was so much more than he could ask for!

In fact, he didn’t think it could get any better when he blew out the candles on the cake, or when Mika handed him presents from his brothers and the staff. But, when he questioned the one on the counter, all wrapped up and oddly shaped, the looks he got from her and the kids made him realize that it could indeed get better.

His hands shook as he tore open the wrapping paper. His eyes widened when he saw the cover, and as he flipped through the pages a new wave of joyful tears sprang to his eyes. Wiping his face and clearing his throat, he read the title out loud to everyone, sure that they knew it already:

“’Happy Birthday, Nurse Damien! We Love You!’ By ‘The Kids of Lurie Children’s Hospital’.”

Every page was made by a child. Hand drawn and hand written, words of happiness, gratefulness and love were directed to him from each and every child in the hospital. Each page was unique, displaying the unique personalities of every child that Damien was careful to visit and cheer up every single day.

They made him a book. A book! And there wasn’t a single child who didn’t create a page for him! How could he be so blessed?

He thanked everyone from the bottom of his heart, and as everyone cheered at his acceptance of the gift, he hugged and kissed the one woman who truly gave him everything he could have ever wanted, and more.

“What did I ever do to deserve you?” He said into the crook of her neck as he held her, inhaling her scent and basking in her presence. Mika returned the tight embrace, overjoyed that the surprise party was welcomed and loved by him. She had wanted to let him know that he was appreciated dearly by those around him, and she was so happy that she succeeded. Of course, she couldn’t have done it without help from the kids.

“Damien, the truth is…” She pulled back and looked him deep in his beautiful blue-purple eyes, shiny with tears, “What did we ever do to deserve you?”

Damien wouldn’t tell you of a happier moment in his entire life. To this day, he reads the book every chance he can get, and he can’t help but cry every time. To be accepted and loved by so many people, and for them to make him his very own book…

He didn’t deserve them, but he couldn’t imagine life without them.

Underneath the Mistletoe Last Night

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: light swearing

Word Count: 2,310

Imagine: Dean and the reader get into the Christmas spirit 


A/N: Was in a festive spirit 😊 (just kidding, I’m a christmas freak) 

And please excuse any mistakes. I’m hopped up on cold medicine

Listen to Frank Sinatra’s “Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas” Here!

In case you don’t know who Burger Meister is 

It was that time of year again; the air was sharp with grey clouds that always seemed to cling to the sky. The trees were bare, the vibrant leaves of fall destitute and disarrayed. The the smell of snow teased your nostrils every day that passed without a fresh blanket. 

But just because it didn’t look like Christmas outside, didn’t mean it couldn’t look like Christmas inside the bunker.

As soon as December 1st hit, you were up bright and early, ready with bags of decorations you had picked up the night before; twinkle lights, ribbons, tinsel, ornaments, and a fake Christmas tree complete with a star on top (because let’s be real, there was no way the three of you were around enough to keep a real one alive). 

You were up by 5am, wanting to have as much done as you could before Sam and Dean got up, which left you only an hour and a half before the youngest Winchester would wonder into the library with a cup of coffee in hand. 

You normally despised the mornings, but when your alarm when off, you sprung out of bed, threw on your Christmas playlist and plugged in your headphones, ready to go. 

You Jingle Bell Rock’d your way through the bunker, streaming pine garlands along the arches, putting out snowman, reindeer, and a Santa Clause cutouts on various end tables.

By 6:30am, it looked like Martha Stewart had puked her Christmas edition all over the bunker, and you LOVED it.

All you had left was the tree, but you figured it might be fun to convince the boys to put it up with you. 

As the room glows in the soft gleam of the the hundreds of strands of Christmas lights you had strung, a soft tap on your shoulder has you pulling out your earbuds and spinning in your slipper socks, looking up to find an awe-struck Sam with a goofy grin on his face.

“Did you do all of this?” He laughs, his eyes shimmering as he takes it all in.

You shrug.

“What can I say, I love Christmas.” He looks down at you and smiles, shaking his head.

“Yeah, I think that’s an understatement.” You just roll your eyes and nudge him with your elbow.

“I figure once Dean gets up, we can put up the tree.” You motion to the box sitting under the staircase.

“You bought a fake tree?” Sam’s chest heaves at he looks at the box incredulously.

You look up at him with a straight-face.

“You seriously trust any of us to keep a tree alive?”

He just laughs and shakes his head.

“Point taken.”

You wrap your arm around his and pull him towards the kitchen.

“C’mon, I’ll make hot chocolate while we wait for Dean to get up.”

Two hours, and three cups of hot chocolate (for Sam) later, Dean hurries his way into his kitchen in the dead-man slippers and robe that he had found when he first moved it.

It kinda skeeved you out, but you just tried to think of them like hand-me-downs. 

His eyes were alert, rather than the barely-open state they usually were in when he found his way to the kitchen in the mornings.

“Have you guys been in the library?” He raises his fisted hand, his thumb pointing over the shoulder, presumably pointing towards the library. “I think Cas robbed Martha Stewart’s house.”

Sam chokes on his hot chocolate and you cover your mouth with your hands, trying to not only cover the giggles of the dumbstruck look on Dean’s face, but also Sam’s reaction.

“What?” Dean’s shoulders fall a bit, though his hand is still raised, as he looks at the two of you in confusion.

“Not…Cas,” Sam gasps for breaths in between laughs. “Y/N.” He points across the table to you. 

Dean closes his eyes and gives his head a small shake, a little crinkle forming above his nose, the one where he’s heard and understands what was said, but is still trying to comprehend the words. 

“You…did all of that?” His eyes open and look right into yours. Your body warms up from the tips of your toes to the tops of your ears, and you shrug with a small smile, giving your eyes a small roll. 

His nose crinkles up as his arm falls to his side, bouncing against his leg.

“Why?” Your smile falls as you stare at him with wide eyes.

“What do you mean why?” You repeat, standing from the table. You walk over to him and wrap your fingers around his wrist–not daring to take his hand–and drag him behind you as you hurry to the library.

“Look at all this,” you let go of his arm, not noticing how he flexes his fingers at the loss of your touch. “How could you not be filled with Christmas joy just looking at it?” You open your arms, motioning to the skating figurines on the magnetic ice rink–the same one your grandparents use to put out in their house every year–and the gingerbread scented candles that flickered around the bowl of peppermint candies you put on the war table. 

“Oh. My. God.” It suddenly hits you, and you turn to Dean. He looks down at you, alarmed by your sudden change in mood.

“You’re totally a grinch, aren’t you?” You accuse, hating the fact that the man you carried a torch for might hate the very holiday you love so much.

“What?” Dean scoffs, crossing his arm. “I’m not a grinch.” He shakes a finger at you. “Hell,” he throws his arms open, staring you right in the eye. “I love Christmas!” 

You glower at him.

“Really, cause it seems like you’re trying really hard to convince me.” You cross your arms and unintentionally jut out your hip.

He rolls his eyes and sighs, his body falling.

“Whatever.” He holds up his hands, walking out as Sam walks in.

“Fine! Sam and I will put up the tree together! Without you!” You call after him, and he waves you off.

Sam watches his brother leave as he steps towards you. 

“Everything okay?” He asks as you make your ways towards the tree box, pulling the flaps open and begin pulling out branches.

“What’s with Dean and Christmas?” You don’t turn around as you ask Sam, just focus on getting the tree out of the box so you can start putting it together.

Two large hands find their way into the box as you work, helping you pull everything out.

“It’s just not really something that’s on our radar.” Sam shrugs as you begin sorting the branches by the numbers on them.

“How could you not celebrate Christmas. With all the shit we see every day, you’d think you guys would welcome the chance at something happy for a change.”

Sam smiles, though it doesn’t reach his dimples.

“What?” You ask as the two of you keep working.

“We haven’t really celebrated since Dean went to hell.”

“What?” You straighten up, dropping the branch in your hands with a heavy thud into its pile.

Sam stops working and looks up at you.

“The last time we celebrated was the Christmas before he went to hell. Since then, we just haven’t. We never really celebrated it before that year either. Not since we were kids anyways.” Sam bends over and picks up the assembly directions. 

You bite the inside of your lip and shake your head at yourself. 

Great move, Y/N. 

An hour later, the tree was finally up and decorated, blinking with colorful lights and silver tinsel. You wished you had more personal ornaments to put on the tree, but the store-bought globes at least made for a pretty sight. 

And Sam had lifted you on his shoulders so you could put the star on top of the tree. Albeit a little crooked, but somehow it just seemed right. 

Once the tree was done, Sam left to go run off all the hot chocolate he drank earlier, and you figured you should go find Dean and apologize. 

You made your way to his door, knocking lightly.

“Dean?” You call out, pressing you ear against his door, listening for any sign of him. “Dean?” You knock again, slowly pushing the door open, in case he yelled at you for barging in, but getting nothing and finding an empty room instead.

You frown and close the door, figuring you could check out the garage. If he wasn’t in his room or the library, the safest bet was he was working on Baby.

“Dean?” You flick on the garage light, finding nothing but rows of old cars, and an empty space where Baby was usually parked.

How the hell did he sneak out without me noticing?

You sigh and close the door, deciding to grab your phone and plug in some Christmas music.

As you lean over the speaker, the soft voice of Frank Sinatra flowing through the library, you hear the roar of Baby’s engine.

You turn around and watch the garage door, a minute passing before the eldest Winchester walks through with a shopping bag in his hand.

“I didn’t hear you leave.” You lean against the end table the speaker sits on, your hands grasping onto the edges. 

“Just ran out for a minute.” He kicks the garage door shut and places his bag on the table. 

You straighten up, trying to sneak a peek as the plastic bag crinkles down onto to table.

“What’d ya get?” You try to sound nonchalant, still trying to peer into the bag from across the room. 

Dean looks over at you, a small smirk on his face.

“Thought I’d add my own Christmas cheer into the mix.” His head bobs as he smiles, seemingly proud of himself.

You narrow your eyes at him, a smirk teasing on your lips as you stand up and cross your arms. 

 “And that’s…”

“A surprise.” He finishes, that shit-eating grin breaking out. You continue to leer at him, not trusting what he has in store. 

“Close your eyes.” He orders and your eyebrows raise.

“What? No wa–.”

“Just close your damn eyes, Y/N.” He huffs, and you glare at hims for a minute before complying, hoping that maybe playing along would make up for earlier. 

You hear him rustle around in the bag before his boots shuffle across the floor, his footsteps growing closer to you before stopping in front of you, close enough you can feel his presence next to you. 

You really try to focus on the noises he making, but he’s too quiet with his actions, even though he’s right in front of you.

“Okay. Open.” He instructs, and your eyes pop open, eagerly looking around the room, but noticing nothing different.

“I don’t get it.” You frown, standing on your tips toes to look behind him, still seeing nothing new.

His eyes sparkle as he stares down at you before they look up to the ceiling and you follow his gaze. 


Your mouth falls open as you nod your head. 

Of course Dean Winchester bought mistletoe.

“You know, just getting in the Christmas spirit.” His voice is light, but cocky as he knows he got the one-up on you. You shake your head at him, but his smile never faults. 

“I guess, for the sake of Christmas spirit.” 

You push up on your toes, his eyes going wide in surprise as your hands grab at the collar of his shirt as his head dips down and to the right, your lips meeting his as his nose squishes on your cheek, your lips playing against the his as his hand goes into your hair and cups under your ear, pulling you even closer. His mouth take your bottom lip in his before pulling away, a proud smile playing on his face.

“And his small heart grew three sizes that day.” You whisper, opening your eyes and staring into the bright green ones looking down at you, your heart pounding against your chest. 

His smile falls and he stares down at you.

“Really?” His jaw shifts as he rolls his eyes up to the ceiling. 

“A Christmas miracle.” You laugh in a breath.

“Knock it off.” His hand falls away from your hair, but lands on the curve of your hip, still holding you to him. 

“Whatever you say, Burger Meister.” You say with a german accent and bright smile. 

“That’s it!” He throws his hands up, reaching for the mistletoe and pulling it down. “Christmas is canceled!” You smile as he starts to move away, reaching out and grabbing the mistletoe from his hand before he can react.

“You sure?” You hold the leaves with white holly over your head, daring him with your eyes to try and leave.

You can see the gears in his mind turning over before he walks towards you with predatory steps and leans down so his eye level meets yours.

“Fine. For Christmas.” He whispers, his breath fanning over you before his lips crash to yours. Your hands fall around his shoulders, as his arms wrap around your waist pulling you flush against him. 

“For Christmas.” You murmur against his lips, before capturing his again. 

“Eh hem.” A deep voice clears his throat, and you and Dean break apart, though your hands not leaving one another.

“You two spreading Christmas cheer?” Sam asks with raised eyebrows and an unfading smiling.

“Just getting in the spirit, Sammy,” Dean smiles at you, his eyes never leaving yours. 

“Yeah, well Merry Christmas to you two.” Sam shakes his head before heading down the hall.

Dean cocks his head to the side, his eyes taking his your face under the soft glow of the twinkle lights.

“A merry Christmas indeed.”


Pulling over on some dirt road with her name engraved, Fenix sat there, under the billowing heat of her 1994 Jeep Wrangler, and palmed her melon-sized sphere that pushed up against the steering wheel. Just another trimester and it would be here, she thought. Three more months of backaches, swollen toes and slumber party campouts around the toilet, hovering over with her knees buckled as her lunch would stubbornly reject digestion.

Not a single pacifier, rattle, nor pamper was purchased, an successful attempt of denial as she continued to play roommate in congested living quarters. She wasn’t ready. The baby could deliver itself, say it’s first words and move out all within the first hour and Fenix would never be ready. It wasn’t joyous. No jingle at the end of her yellow brick road, no one to help her assemble that ‘do it yourself’ crib with all the extra parts—because they always came with extra parts—that she’d been eyeing, no one to ponder over cliché baby names with, just her, in solitary limbo.

With a scan of an index finger Fenix scrolled through belated check ups and congratulatory texts, locked the screen, then slid it passenger’s side, her being it’s designated driver for the remainder of the ride.

A cut through some tumbleweeds and a few left turns over desert gravel. Home. Just enough time to catch the last fifteen minutes of her stories and curl up with a bucket of confetti Haagen Dazs. Fenix climbed legs out the door, and wished she’d stayed inside. A deer in headlights, dumb founded Bambi is who she became as she stood a few feet away. His back turned, the same shapely back she’d work her nails into when things were good, the same back he’d given her the night he boarded that flight.

Hazy it still was. His abrupt –it’s not you, it’s me– speech towards the end, making her look like the incompetent game show contestant, parting gift tucked under her straw hat –Sorry for your troubles, here’s a shiny new fetus for the long way home..