(347): the best days in LIFE are then you realize you arent pregnant

     { ♤ } — there was a palm to her forehead, met with nothing but a well-placed scoff and a bit of light laughter. The impact wasn’t nearly as brash as hers— not to say that Eliza’s was anything more than out of love— that tended to mock their relationship. One was rougher than the other, but, both had a backbone. It was marvelous, really. The dynamic worked itself. And, she wasn’t embarrassed to show emotion, to be herself around the redhead, to let go, smile, for once— and just be.

                                 one more step and she’ll plop onto the raggedy

                                 old excuse for a couch, bringing her legs to rest

                                 up on the cushions— cushions, of course,

                                 meaning autumn—

         ❝ you’ve got news, and you’re still holdin’ out on me? spill it—! ❞

{❦} Her hands tap against Eliza's shins, she's used to the physical contact between the two of them. It's something they've grown used to after years of living together and getting drunk with college boys, only to ditch them and go home to make mac and cheese before falling asleep on the floor curled together like cats. That's what friends were for, right?

             "Well, my dad's company is opening up a new branch here in San Francisco, and I've been put in charge of overseeing the development. So I'll be-----"

                        A pause for dramatic effect.

                                                    "living here for a few months at least."

        The question rang out loud in the otherwise silent car, the sirens having been turned off and the night outside quiet. Dean’s eyes flickered towards the driver’s seat, where the two policemen sat in equal silence, and he resolved to ignore the question. Explaining that the manor on the hill was haunted — and that he was attempting to stop that — was not the conversation to have with anyone, let alone in the back seat of a cop car.

        When she asked another question, his eyes turned to her, a slight crinkle in his brow as he regarded the question. “Nah,” he replied after a moment, “I’m no college kid.” 

        As he leaned back against the hard, uncomfortable seat, he began to notice the ache setting in his bones. Digging through six feet of dirt wasn’t an easy accomplishment, and Dean’s arms felt sorer than he’d ever known them. There was an awkward crick in his neck, too, and his vision was still tainted with the brightness of the flames he’d been staring into.

        He focused his attention on the girl, then, eyes running over her features. She looked delicate, but the predatory grin said something else. Besides, she was under arrest. Auburn hair — at least it looked auburn, though the only light he got was from the brief flashes of street lamps, so he could be wrong — fell round her face in soft curls, in a typically beautiful fashion. Dean offered a smile back, though he quickly remembered he looked like he’d just been working out for at least an hour.

        Which he had, so that wasn’t unfair, just unattractive. He noticed her distaste at the handcuffs wrapped snugly round her wrist, and he understood. He wasn’t dangerous, just misunderstood. He wondered what excuse his dad would provide having been caught on a scene like this.

        When absolutely nothing came to mind — because who digs up graves for a legal, non-supernatural reason? — he sighed, turning back to the girl next to him. “So, what’s a girl like you doin’ gettin’ arrested, huh?”

{❦} "A girl like me?"

       If he wasn't so charming then she would probably feel weird about being stuck in the backseat of a car next to a grave robber, which is what she had dubbed him in her head. But he didn't seem like he was the type to actually cause her any harm, besides, they were both getting arrested so she couldn't really judge too much.

         "I was at that music festival down the road with some friends, the cops caught me sneaking in some vodka-- even though I'm 21 they still freaked out. So I ran."

         She had managed to get away for one song, but her red locks had given her away and they caught up with her, grabbing her upper arm. She got scared, someone grabbing her wasn't exactly something that she could just be passive about.

         "That guy--" A head nod towards the cop who was driving. "grabbed my arm, scared the fuck out of me, so I uh-- punched him in the face. Gave him nosebleed. That's why I'm cuffed. Apparently I'm prone to lashing out."

         A roll of her eyes as she starts drumming her feet against the seat, the noise echoing through the quiet car in an attempt to annoy the cops. Her father would pay her bail and pay off anyone that might get her in trouble, and her real trouble would be when he got her home, so she was ready to just bother everyone who had brought this down upon her.  

            After a minute she stops fidgeting around in the seat and turning to face her companion better. "I'm Autumn by the way, I'd shake your hand, but um-- you know." 

          [ oh shit, oh shit, she’s beautiful. pretty girls like that rarely notice that he exists when dean is around. his flush deepens, and he ducks his head before pointing at his brother. ]

                    You want his attention?

          [ he mouths the words, hopes she can read them. dean doesn’t seem to notice, too focused on reading the menu to look up and pay attention to his brother. he’s stuck between a philly cheesesteak and a bacon cheeseburger, as per the usual order. ]

          [ and then sam entertains the thought of, maybe just this one, she wants him. she wants him— awkward, dorky, shy sam who still stumbles over his feet when around someone he likes— thirty years old and still flusters around women. he’s not smooth like his brother, nor as experienced, and doesn’t know how to charm. but maybe, just this once, she’d pick him— look into dean’s shadow instead of at dean himself. ]

{❦} Wait, what is he doing? Her brows furrow and she pauses with her straw in her mouth, lips parting slightly in confusion before she pulls her head back. Is he-- was he trying to be a wingman for that other guy? Granted the other guy was attractive, but she just, no. A tiny shake of her head, as she sort of just stared at him with bewilderment.

                                                                          -----------No?

        Her gaze falls from him back to her papers, she starts to gather them up, putting them in a pile and tapping them against the table to line them up before tucking them away neatly in the manilla folder. Her pen is stuck on the top and she puts the whole thing in her bag, taking another bite of fry, fishing for her wallet.  

      She's been here for what feels like hours, but she's not ready to leave just yet. Autumn doesn't want to go home. But her work is done and she can focus on her food, mainly her fries that she's been nibbling at the entire time. Out the window she can see people stumbling along the street, out of bars and clubs, and for once she's glad she's not among them.

      Maybe it's because she can't stop looking across the diner at Mr.Dimples. It's getting to the point where she's starting to feel creepy, maybe she should just go and talk to him? She resolves to, once she finishes up her fries. 

     { ♤ } —… there never really was quite a median to her antics. it was either complete drama, or nothing at all. You could tell what today’s was, just by the appearance of a lump on the kitchen tiles, clad in a blanket that popped her feet out at the bottom; which, most certainly didn’t settle too well with Eliza. That much was clear as she fidgeted, curses not hidden in the slightest as she attempted to yank the cover over her feet.

                                 that only ended in misery, the little energy she

                                 wished to volunteer was now being used to

                                 inchworm her way over to autumn’s feet.

              ❝ when’d dean leave? ❞

{❦} Last nights makeup is smudged around her eyes even more as she rubs them, looking down at her friend-turned-caterpillar. Her head was still throbbing slightly, but there was fresh coffee in the pot that she poured for herself, taking a sip and bending to yank the blanket over Eliza's feet, if for no other reason then to stop her whining.

        "Not long ago, coffee is still warm-------

                                                        where are the pans? I'm making omelettes. 

Enough to make even the most hardened of fellow criminals cringe, there came that wicked snicker of Chamber’s, the horrid, tepid little laugh that seemed to be elicited only by conceited pride in his own sadism. “I’m doing them a disservice in letting them go around at all, any of them.”

Aleister didn’t even seem to care that Autumn only played along with his foul talk simply to stay on his good side— she was hardly the only one.

He had merely sat there and observed as the other fetched him his drink, and continued to do so until it was placed before him, straightening languidly, right leg crossed over left.

"The policeman—? You don’t do anything about him.” Perhaps Aleister had glanced up too quickly with that, quipped with a little too much curtness, not projected quite enough of his usual sinister nonchalance. It was near unnoticeable but the mention of a certain policeman had admittedly caught him off guard— though he was quick to cover it up. He wasn’t about to let his little secret slip so easily, and still as he took his drink and cupped the glass in both hands he was quick to play it off.

"Believe it or not, he’s proving… useful to have around," Chamber added, violet-eyed gaze shifting as absentmindedly he let the contents of his glass swirl a little. He didn’t sip yet, just stared into it a moment, almost as if he was actually interested.

"Psht, the authorities,” he scoffed, and with that finally raised his glass to rose lips and took a good swig, “they make this far too easy.”

{❦}  "I'll let everyone know to leave the policeman be, as he really doesn't seem to be causing any harm." 

        Her gave flicks to his face, she's surprised, but she hides it well by taking a sip of her drink and pulling some letters from her blazer, placing them on the desk.

      "These are from Germany, I didn't open them but I assume they're from your 'friends' there."

         Then she sits back in her seat, one leg crossed over the other as she sips her scotch. Lots could be said about her boss, but no one could ever claim that he had cheap taste. Not when it came to clothes, houses, women, or booze. It was always the finest, and on days like this, she seemed to benefit from that. A good glass of scotch was hard to come by, and one of her guilty pleasures.

          Perhaps she should venture forth with a question, Aleister seemed to be in a good mood today. And to be honest, she was curious. Usually officers of the law were dealt with in dark alleyways by a hired hand.

            "If you don't mind my asking, how is the policeman proving useful?" 

He wants to reassure her. He’s aware that he makes her nervous; that he’s probably the reason behind at least 90% of her stress. He feels bad about, of course, because she certainly doesn’t deserve it, and so he’ll do the best he can to soothe her.

❝ I’m fine, Red. Really, ❞ he replies in a soft tone as he licks his lips.

He hesitates for a moment, but eventually pulls the beer out and shuts the mini fridge. He’s not drunk—just buzzed enough to keep his hangover off, and he needs to stay that way until later tonight when he can just pass out again.

A small, but genuine smile pulls at the corners of his lips when she mentioned the baby again. For some inexplicable reason, the idea that she is going to be a mother, that he’s going to be an uncle, and—regardless of their current situation—Sam is going to be a father, makes him incredibly happy.

❝ —God, I wish I could see that. I’m not even around to teach it my name. And some cuss words. ❞

{❦} "You better not be lying to me, Dean Winchester. I'll fly out there and kick your ass, don't test me."

          And by kick his ass, she meant she would yank bottles from his hands and drag him out of clubs by his shirt collar, respond to his 3am texts when he needed the occasional groupie out of his hotel room or when something was wrong. Here she was just so helpless.

           "Dean, you are not teaching my baby any cuss words, what is the matter with you. Teach it how to play the guitar when it gets a little older or something, not how to swear. Damn."

             But she's smiling, her voice is light, it's nice to have him back, to have a normal conversation without worrying lacing her words and apologies scatted through his sentences.

          "You'll be back around here soon enough, and when this baby is born, you're going to be in it's life. Not negotiable, by any parties." 

       ❝ Do you know when I can find him? ❞

[ He shakes his head at her question, emitting only a clear of his throat for        a long time, his eyes finally leaving hers as his gaze wanders around the           breathtaking landscape. He’s thinking of what to say, or rather, how to say             what he’s approached their home for. Finally, his fixed gaze returns to her visage. ]

       ❝ Well, sort of, but— it’s nothing. ❞

[ The last thing he intended to do was come to a decision, only for it to be       tampered with just as he’s on the verge of taking said action, but even as           he stands in front of the girl, he’s beginning to question whether or not it            was even a good idea to come her in the first place, and Sam’s having trouble              keeping his thoughts as nothing more than professional, his mind absentmindedly                swaying into potentially unwanted areas and thoughts. ]

{❦} "I think he's out for the day, running errands. I just got home this morning."

        It was nice to be home, her and a few friends had taken a trip to the beach and stayed there longer than they should have. A soft breeze blows past them, ruffling the bottom of her dress and catching a few locks of her hair. Her book is placed on the porch swing as she deftly tucks the wild strands behind her ear. His gaze travels across the landscape and she follows it, pausing for a moment on the horses. Maybe she'd go over and see them instead of reading.

       Again she smiles at him, bare feet padding softy across the porch so she could lean on the railing and step into the sun a bit more. He was cute, the most handsome of any of the farmhands they'd ever hired. He had a kind face, cute dimples and broad shoulders, honestly he was hard not to notice.

         "I can pass along a message if it's important. Or you can wait with me, I made some lemonade a few minutes ago." 

╔                                                                                                                                                      So this is long overdue, because I said I would make one at 200+ followers. A bunch of school shit hit me all at once so I had to take a sabbatical. I say that instead of ‘hiatus’ because, even though I was away from you all and not regularly posting, I still gained like 50+ followers in a week for doing nothing? I have not myself to thank but you all, and very much so. I love every one of my followers, but this list is some of a few that I find very special and who have been with me or, conversely, I’ve been with for a while. Whether we have extensive conversations or I just stalk you from afar. I don’t follow people back very often and I’m not saying you should feel ‘honored’ to be on this list, but these individuals are definitely worth taking a look at their blog!                                                                                                                                                                    ╝

Special Mentions:

✞ raisedtherighteousman

I’m totally not doing this just because you did this for me too. Okay, maybe a little. But I think you’re really awesome and I’m also very excited to meet you (in like a week wow this is sO EXCITING). You might taunt me with your vinyls and I may be a wee bit jealous, but your Cas is really fun to thread with and I love the constant AU plots you send my way, haha. Thanks for being my friend, yo. c:

☁ smightymcsmighterton

Wow, I bet you guys think I have a Cas problem, huh? Anyway, haha. I think you’re a very sweet person and you listen to me bitch and I listen to you bitch. Mutual bitch fests are the best. You are also awesome and generally say positive things that boost my confidence all the time. I love your Cas, too. I have to say that, however, my favorite thing between us is what no one else gets to see! You know what I’m talking about. Haha, you’re basically the only reason I even play Sam anymore. But seriously, our text threads are super fun, too. 

❤ pie-of-thetiger

Okay, okay, okay. Don’t even get me started. You’re the lewdest person I’ve met and I fucking love it, okay?! If I say ‘okay’ one more time, shoot me, haha. Seriously though, you are Dean Winchester in the flesh. I’m pretty vain and call myself Dean all the time, but you literally a r e. I love our twin AU, you have no idea. It seriously is my favorite thing ever. I want to meet you so badly and wish you lived in the same time zone as me, or yknow, the same room. You’re so much more than just a pretty face, too. I need to stop writing before this gets gay, haha. 

Time for the list of all my other precious babies~

»my growing collection of deen:

»other spn blogs:

»other role play blogs (other fandoms/OCs; YOU BETTER SHOW SOME ‘EM SOME LOVE!):

»non-role play blogs that I really enjoy:

i apologize right now if i missed anyone, but know that i love you all! thanks for putting up with me, guys and gals!

all that you can't leave behind ♆ schonenherbst

         Coffee laps softly at the interior of Dean’s styrofoam cup, lips purse to procure          the steaming liquid as he mulls over the latest file in front of him. His newest          assignment was a girl by the name of Autumn Kimball.

                     —or her new identity, as she’d soon be known, Summer Lange                      Dean had come up with it himself, he thought it was pretty clever.

   Rubbing tired eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose, he attempted    to rouse himself from the nearly ceaseless state of slumber that plagued    him. That was one of the downsides to his job as an FBI agent in witness    protection. Sleep deprivation. It was a job that required constant vigilance    and the ability to assess new information and details on a moment’s notice.

                     If you failed, or you weren’t prepared to snap into action at the drop of a hat                      —you could have a murder on your hands in the span of a moment. Each                     case had to be treated with exquisite care. People that were put into the                     Witness Protection Program were there for one basic reason—

   —Someone out there wanted them dead, maybe multiple people,    and the only thing standing between them and becoming six    feet under was a case agent and a new identity. Falling asleep    on the job wasn’t exactly an option.

                Draining the remnants of coffee dregs from his cup, Dean crumpled it                  with a satisfying crunch, and tossed it into the nearest trash can. Stuffing                 the contents of the file back into its manilla folder for safe-keeping, he tucked                 it away into his briefcase and left his small office towards the lobby to wait for                 his latest assignment to arrive. 

{❦} The redhead can barely peek around the broad shoulder's of the Agent escorting her into the FBI building, but she doesn't mind. She's tired, and she trusts that he won't lead her into any walls. Over the past few days, she's hardly had a moment alone, her only solace coming from her showers and sleeping, and even still there was an agent within earshot.

                                        It was annoying, necessary, but annoying.

            She hadn't thought that it would be a problem, obviously she had seen the crime, and if she wanted to sound like she was from the 1920's she could have sworn she witnessed a hit.  Maybe if she hadn't screamed in surprise they wouldn't have even noticed her there, walking back into the club after a smoke break.

         It was weird, she didn't even smoke, but that night a cigarette had wound up between her lips and brought her outside into the shady alleyways. So she had run, straight home which was the dumbest thing she could possibly do, because the next night the alarms caught people walking around her father's estate. That was when they had decided to call in the feds, to get her out of there. Her father acted concerned, but he was worried about something happening to his business more than his daughter.

        Regardless, witness protection was offered and she accepted, she didn't have much to leave behind anyway, just her father's money. A few friends, but they were used to her disappearing for weeks at a time, various reasons, but she just told them she was traveling with her father, on business, learning the ropes of his company. Which was true, about forty percent of the time.  

        Then her 'bodyguard' for lack of a better word stopped, opening a door for her and giving a tiny smile as she stepped into the room, immediately noting the handsome agent before her.

                                             Maybe this wouldn't be so bad. 

"Like I’ll need to instruct him on what to do."  When it came down to it, Bucky knew how to get down when the moment came.  He was her favorite dancing partner second to Autumn.  But still, she laughed just as Autumn did.  Her laugh was contagious so how couldn’t she?

"—You lost Bucky in a mall?"  Jaxine furrowed her brows together, lips in a tight line to repress any laughter that threatened to spill.  It was so difficult not to when her body shook from holding it in.  Just the image of Bucky of how the red head described made her nearly lose it.  "At least you promise not to do the same with this one.  Maybe just in case, you could hire a nanny to help you keep an eye out.  Or better yet, invite me out with you both."

{❦} "Not my proudest moment, but I got distracted by a pair of shoes. I could have sworn he was right behind me." She's still grinning, trying not to, because in all honesty she does feel bad about losing the youngest member of their tour. "God, Jax, you should have seen him, the poor guy looked so dejected, it broke my heart."

     A slight pause as she considers a nanny, it might not be so bad to have someone who knows what they're doing around, but this was her and Sam's baby, not some random nanny's.  "I think I'll pass on the whole nanny thing, unless you want me to hire you. Which might be a terrible idea, in all honesty. You're just as lost as me." 

“yeah, well, uh—- y’see…. they were really flimsy, and you know, definitely not worth what you paid for’em, i mean—- plus, i’ve got big, meaty hands—”

{❦} "Baby, you don't even want to  know how much I paid for those.  I'm actually a little embarrassed."

A pause.

"Ew, don't say meaty. It sounds weird. I like--- strong better." 

Leave one in my ask and I'll make a starter, AU or otherwise: Farmer's Daughter

[This wasn’t a rash action; he’d been planning to quit the job at the farm for        weeks now, and after much consideration, Sam found himself outside of the          owner’s house; he’s about to knock when the door is opened for him, revealing            a woman. She looks young, and he figures it’s his daughter by the similar complexion. ]

       ❝ Hey, uh, is Mr. Richardson around? ❞

  [Of course, he’s staring.]

{❦} A book tucked under one arm, a glass of pink lemonade in her hand with bare legs peeking out from her little yellow sundress, she pauses eyes widening a bit in surprise when she realizes her front porch is already occupied.

           Autumn rocks back on her heels, then onto her pink painted toes as she waits for him to speak and when he does, her brows furrow in concern and her friendly smile faltering slightly.

                         "Oh.. no, I haven't seen him all day. Is there a problem?"  

         There's a small pout on her lips now, she knows him. He's the farmhand they hired for the summer.  Oh, she hopes that he's not unhappy here. 

schonenherbst replied to your post:          [ masturbating intensifies ]

is this better princess

          [ heavy breathing, sharp twists of the wrist and desperate thrusts of hips. he doesn’t do this, not often. it’s impure, dirty, all the things sam’s trying to get away from, but oh— ]

                    A—ah;

          [ neck arches, pink lips part. he’s gone. ]

oh, of course, she fucking saw that. she would see that. eyes like a goddamn hawk. he panics a little, it looked expensive, but, even so, he plays it cool.

“what——? uh, nothing, baby.”

as a cucumber.

{❦} "Mhm, it didn't look like nothing."

          It looked like her new pair of sunglasses, but honestly she didn't really care. She just wanted to give him a hard time, he was cute when he was flustered. 

Did he break it—- did he—-? he broke it. but…. did anyone see?

{❦} "-------What was that?"