silver truck

Ankle Biter | 06

pairing: taehyung x reader - single dad! au

warnings/genre: major fluff, major angst, smut eventually I’m sure because of my thirsty ass

summary: You swear that your job sucks, except for the guy who keeps coming in every morning to order himself a black coffee, and his kid a strawberry milk and chocolate muffin. When you and Taehyung have an awkward run-in at the cafe thanks to his kid, feelings start to emerge and so do the secrets.

words: 5.7k

playlist | 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05

this chapter contains smut.

Two years prior:

“Hey, Taehyung! You made it.” Shouted a drunken Jimin from across the pounding music of the club. Taehyung responded with a devious smile as he moved through sweaty bodies entangled on the dance floor, jumping up and down at the music and splashing their drinks everywhere. Taehyung had never been comfortable at parties, but they were the best place to pick up supermodels willing to exchange a few favors, and at the moment he could use a pick-me-up.

He sat down next to Namjoon, who was quietly sitting on the bar stool working on a gin and coke while Jimin and Jungkook sat on the other side tipping back vodka shot after vodka shot and laughing their asses off after each one. Taehyung shook his head after a faint smile grew on his face. Jimin and Jungkook were fresh out of college and already insanely successful in the world of business, literal moguls of their own kind and they bathed in it. Taehyung met the two after they came to stay at the hotel, and as Taehyung stood there going through paperwork at the front desk one night the two came in and asked if Taehyung wanted to grab a drink. One drink turned into five, then ten, and that’s the night Jungkook met his girl and his future as a father. Taehyung remembers the day Jungkook called, paralyzed with fatherly fear because the baby dumped on his doorstep after months of a rocky relationship with the baby’s mother. Taehyung just laughed, telling Jungkook that Jungmi was “a minor bump in the road,” and that “if he really didn’t want her he could find her grandparents.” He would take that back if he realized who would be calling within the next year.

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7x20 Coda

Written by Praemonitus_Praemunitus


AolFangirl note: the Muse is back!!! And PP with her…. how I missed the boys written by my partner in crime! 

So, I don’t know what do you think but for me the idea of Danny going back with Rachel is almost as bad as the one of Steve going back with Cath… Those women are bad news… but I think PP got the right way to explain how it’s possible for Danny to consider it possible, I agree with her vision.

I hope you enjoy this coda and please don’t forget to send your comments! <3 


 He watches Rachel as she sits in front of Grace and Charlie, their small hands clasped gently in both of hers.  Listens distractedly as she talks to them, glancing his way every so often, her smile affectionate, her eyes soft.  He is familiar with that gaze, had seen it directed his way on more than one occasion… back in Jersey, back when the two of them were in love, when they were happy. When they were a family.  It feels nice, having her look at him that way again. And despite himself, despite all of his earlier misgivings, everything he and Steve talked about, he finds himself wondering just how nice it might be to have that family again.  Him and Rachel and Grace and now Charlie.  A chance to repair what had been broken so many times.  A chance for his kids to have a normal, stable, loving home – the kind he had wanted, longed to give them.  Because what if… what if Stan’s right about Rachel? What if she does still love him?  Should he take a chance on her again, take a chance on them?  Doesn’t he owe it to his kids to try?

“No.  NO!”  Steve’s voice flashes across his mind – a fervent, adamant denial, so jarringly clear, as though the man were standing right beside him.  It startles him, rocks him backwards as if from a physical blow. His mind stutters, drifts back to the conversation he and Steve had in his office, to Steve’s reaction when he told him about Stan’s suspicions regarding Rachel’s feelings.  To the look on Steve’s face, the look in his eyes – the bafflement, the incredulity he saw there, the worry and then, inexplicably, the hurt…

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It’s hard not to notice Lukas Waldenbeck.

Or: the six weeks leading up to the cabin.


The hearing doesn’t go well. His mom broke parole; failed her drug test and then lied about it. The morning of, they’re late to court and Philip’s excuse about the trains works… until his mom’s scattered, slurred apology follows behind it, and then they’re screwed. The case worker’s eyes glaze over, and suddenly they’re just another junkie mom with her teenaged kid in tow, squeezed in between other unfit parents and messed up families.

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Hi Sixpenceee (if she is reading this which I highly doubt) and everyone else reading,

Earlier today I went to get my eyebrows and nails done and the lady who does them for me and I somehow ended up on the subject of car accidents. I told her my story of how when I was six I was crossing the cross walk to my school when a Ford truck pretty much ran over me and dragged me around nine metres. I mentioned how right before it all happened (I don’t remember being ran over, everything went black after this) I remembered seeing a blue truck coming from my right and nothing coming from my left side. And I remember waking up feet facing the left side. I thought this is how it all happened up until Discoveries (my lawyer and some other people asked me a bunch of questions about what happened) I told them about the direction the blue truck was coming from and how I woke up feet facing the left side. They were all very confused and told me that it was a red truck that came from the right side. So obviously I would have ended up feet facing the right side. I just kinda brushed it off and thought it was weird.
After I told my eyebrow lady the story she said that the same thing happened to her. She had a head on collision with another car and was unconscious for a while. When she woke up she thought it was a black car, but it was a silver truck. And she thought it swerved from the right, but it actually swerved from the left. And she thought the ‘car’ crashed into a green house, but it actually came out from the green house. She also thought her car fell into a ditch but it didn’t.

Does this happen to all people after being in an accident? Like, remembering things backwards or the opposite? I just think it’s really weird how we both remembered things differently than they actually happened!

Request: Long Time Coming

Request: Can I have a Dean imagine where years after you left him, Dean saves you during a hunt like when you first met and you try to leave again, but Dean won’t let you leave because he needs you. And they kiss or something…… THANKS!!!

Word Count: 1,086

I really enjoyed writing this one. Thanks, I hope you like it!:)

Two years, four months, eighteen days. It’s that long since you left Dean and his brother.

You’d been happy, sure, for a long time. But then, everything went to shit and they were constantly arguing and so were you, and you just couldn’t deal with that, on top of everything else. So one night, you took your bag and left with nothing but a note.

You still get at least three calls a week. You’ve texted twice to inform them that you’re not dead.

Twice in two years.

You’ve been hunting solo, which is harder but at least you only have to worry about yourself. You’re currently in an old warehouse said to be inhabited by a couple of vampires. Nothing big.

At least, that was the plan.

One head lies on the floor. And now, you’re surrounded by five, six, seven, eight angry vamps. You’ll bet any money that there’s more in the shadows, just lurking, on the off chance you manage to run away, they won’t allow it.

You might say you’re royally screwed.

You manage to swipe the heads from two more. Then you’re overpowered. One’s teeth are about to rip into the tender skin of your neck and you’re ready to die. Then it’s head hits your shoulder and a spurt of blood hits you. You’re up like a shot, your machete’s handle slick with blood. You keep it in your grip, though, decimating the vamps with your unknown saviour.

They’re all dead in a matter of seconds. The lights clank into life and you wipe the blood splatters away from your mouth- no risks. And only then do you look up at the figure. He’s staring at you.

It doesn’t even take half a second to recognise the face behind the blood. Dean. Shit.

Has he recognised you? You think so, by the way he’s staring at you.

“Y/N?” He says, in awe. “Christ, it’s you.”

You offer a shrug, “Hey, Dean.”

Hey. You say hey. You haven’t seen the guy in two years and all you can say is ‘hey’?

He takes a breath, staring at your bloodstained form. He hasn’t changed at all.

“How’ve you been?” He asks, and you shrug.

“Busy, I guess.”

“You could have called.”

“No, I couldn’t.” He doesn’t know how many times you’ve held your finger over that little green button. He has no idea how many tears you’ve shed thinking of him.

There’s a long pause before he speaks again, “How about the three of us go for a drink, for old time’s sake?”

“Sure.” What could possibly go wrong with that? One drink and then you’re on the road again. Simple.

He smiles, and leads you out of the warehouse. You go to your car, and Dean instructs, “Follow us. No taking other turns, I will follow.”

“I’m not going to take another turn.” You climb into your silver truck and drive off after them. They lead you to a little bar, and you park beside each other.

As soon as you’re out the truck, Sam ambushes you with a hug.

“I thought you were dead, when we saw that truck.” He says, pulling away and looking you up and down. You change your jacket to hide your bloodstained shirt and laugh.

“I might be if it weren’t for you guys. Thank you.”

“Just like when we met, huh?” Dean says, and you laugh.

“Yeah, just like that.” When you’d met, you’d been overpowered by a demon you’d underestimated. You were all but dead meat when they found you.

You head into the bar and order drinks. Finding a table, you catch up on their lives and they catch up with yours.

They’ve mostly been doing generic hunting, they tell you, also, they’re currently trying to cease the apocalypse. They keep most of the details out, you can tell, being in a public place. Something about Seals and Revelations. You’ve heard whispers but nothing concrete, until now.

You, however, have had it pretty normal. Everything from demons to wendigos. You kept a kill count for a while but lost it after 102.

You share a few drinks, and then, you try to excuse yourself. You get as far as the car park before everything inside you is screaming to go back to them.

No, Y/N. No. You can’t be with them. Stop. You’re only making it worse for yourself.

“You can’t go.” You hear a voice from behind you. You spin sharply, hugging your jacket around yourself.

“I have to.” You say, and he shakes his head.

“You don’t. You’re staying with us.”

“I’m not.” You force yourself to say it. You actually pull off the lie pretty well.


“I can’t get stuck in the middle of you again!” You say, “And have you ever thought that I might be over you both?”

He stares at you as you turn away just in time to mask the tear falling down your cheek.

“I thought you loved me.” He says. It takes everything you have not to turn back to him and admit that yes, you did, you do, you never want to leave his side again, that you’d built up a wall over the past two years, but he’d come today and knocked it down with hardly a sentence.

It takes even more to say, “You thought wrong.”

He’ll stop looking for you. He’ll leave you alone. You break his heart, he never talks to you again.

And you’re left alone for good. It’s for the best you tell yourself. He’ll go on easily, you tell yourself. I’m not going to cry, you tell yourself. Every one of those statements is a lie.

The latter statement is broken in seconds as a sob fights its way from your throat and rips through your body. You cover your mouth, hoping he’s gone inside, he didn’t hear.

Your hopes are dashed as you hear footsteps behind you, “You don’t mean that at all, do you?”

You shrug and almost collapse into his open arms. “No.”

“I’ve missed you so much. You have no idea.”

“Oh, I do.” You say, reaching up and pressing your lips to his. He responds, passionately, desperately, almost roughly. His hands cup your face and his rough, stubbly cheeks scrape against your softer ones, but you don’t care. You don’t care at all and neither does he, when you pull yourself tight against him.

“You’re never leaving me again, you hear me?” He says zealously, and you nod.


Teacher Gilinsky– XXX

Teacher Gilinsky— XXX ;)

1 year later—

I woke up tangled in a flannel sleeping bag, Jack spooning me, Noah and Jasmine at the foot of the make shift bed. The smell of nature and trees make me smile, the sunlight causing the silver paint on Jack’s truck to shimmer. Yes, we are camping, our makeshift bed in the bed of his truck. I smiled and closed my eyes, flipping around so I could cuddle into Jack’s warm bare chest. His hand cheekily slipped up my shirt and rubbed my back with his fingertips, my heart hammering as his lips gently assaulted my neck.

“Good morning beautiful.” He croaked, his strong forearms pulling me tighter into his chest, underneath the sleeping bag.

“Good morningggggg.” I drew out. I felt little hands paw at my legs as Noah crawled up to Jack and I, his piercing hazel eyes practically my entire world.

“Good morning handsome boy.” I exclaimed as I sat up and pulled him into my lap. He smiled squeamishly and hid his face in my neck, Jack pulling Jasmine into his lap, her blonde hair a halo against his chest as she curled into him.

“I’m gonna make breakfast.” I whispered, while setting Noah down on the sleeping bag before hopping out of the truck bed. I opened the cooler and grabbed those applesauce squeeze pouches and squeezed them up good, and tossed them into the truck bed. Noah squealed in excitement as Jack cooed at him, my heart fluttered. I turned on the butane burner and heated the skillet up, buttermilk pancakes and bacon sizzling side by side. After making all the pancakes and some bacon, I made eggs and a strawberry maple syrup puree sauce. I dish up several plates and carry them back to the truck, Noah’s cut very very small.

We all immediately dug into the delicious food, I fed little bites to Noah. After eating breakfast, we all got dressed and ready to go swimming in the lake that was a short walk down from our campsite.

“Good Morning.” A very hungover Ezra mumbled as he stumbled out of his tent, Phoenix trailing behind him. I smirked and patted him on the head and handed both of them some juice. Jack leant in and whispered something in Phoenix’s ear, him nodding and smirking, passing it on to Ezra.

I shrugged and lathered sun screen on the kids, a thin layer of bug repellent shortly after.

“Mommy and Daddy are gonna meet us down there,” Ezra said in a child voice.

“Between us four, you’ll have a lot more fun.” He whispered to Jasmine. She squealed and grabbed onto Phoenix’s hand, picking up the pace as she jogged down the dirt path.

“I wanted some time alone with my wife to be.” He smirked and leaned in, his hands tucking into the butt pocket of my denim shorts. His lips tangoed with mine, as per usual. He tapped the back of my thighs, signaling to jump. I wrapped my legs around his hips and held onto his neck as he slowly walked towards the truck. He opened the backseat door with one hand, and set me gently on the leather seat. I scooted back so he could crawl over me, his teeth nipping at my bottom lip. He pulled my shorts off my legs, leaving me in my bikini bottoms. He smirked and bit his lip, his finger lightly tracing my clothed labia. He untied the stings on the sides, and tossed the material on the car floor next to Jasmine’s coloring book.

“We don’t have much room, so you’ll have to sit on my face.” He said. I giggled and sat on the center console while he laid down with his knees bent. I straddled his face, his hands holding the back of my thighs as he pulled me down. His tongue immediately devoured me, his hands kneading my butt cheeks, leaving gentle slaps every now and then. It had been awhile since we had done anything even remotely sexual besides kissing, so there was no way in HELL I was going to last long.

“I forgot how sweet you are.” He spoke against me. I whined and tangled my fingers into his hair, my hips moving again his tongue.

“I’ve gotta have you, baby.” He said and tapped my thighs.

“Bend over the console,” He said running his fingers down my thigh. I climbed off of him and rested on my knees on top of my shorts, doing as he said.

“Look at that fat ass.” He said and sucked in a breath, his hands kneading once again. He rubbed his tip between my folds, teasing me.

“For fucks sake,” I groaned and he laughed.

“Alright, alright.” He giggled and pushed in, a feeling I have only dreamed about in the past few months. After birthing Noah, the doctor gave me a few extra stitches so I would be extra tight. But, Jack doesn’t know that. His hips knocked against my ass, leaving red marks. I clenched around him and wiggled my ass, begging to be slapped.

“God damn, do I need to slap myself?” I said, giggling. His hand came down sharply on me, repetitively.  

“Is that what you want? Huh?” He said, his thrusts sharp and his slaps painfully pleasureful. His hands help my hips for leverage and took out all of his pent up sexual tension out on me in this very moment.

“You feel so fucking good, fuck!” He shouted, slamming his hands down on the shoulders of the seats, his face read with veins bulging out, sweat prickled his scalp.

“I’m so close baby.” He said out of breath. He pulled out and sat on the seat, gently rubbing his shaft with his finger tips.

“Come ride me, baby.” He said. I smiled and straddled his lap, sinking down onto him. I was facing the windshield, his lips brushing my neck as I bounced on him, his hand came around to rub my clit.

“You close baby? Hmm?” He said as he thrust up to me as I plunged down. I threw my head back onto his shoulder and clenched around him, his fingers stilling on my clit as we came in unison. I climbed off of him and leant over the console to grab the kleenex’ that were in the glovebox.

“Baby, your ass is soon bruised.” He said sympathetically. I cleaned myself up and smiled at him.

“Let it.”