#Christmas Truck sweatshirt

[customizedstore]

Christmas Teacher Sweatshirt, Christmas Gift For Teacher, Teachers Day, Teachers Life T-Shirt

[stargazedwinchester]

Stanford ♡ Sam

Summary: You meet your new roommate, Sam Winchester.

Word Count: 1,320

Pairing: Student!Sam, Student!FemReader

My new upload schedule has changed! There will be a new post every Wednesday and Saturday 12:30 GMT (Excluding this one). Part 2 to this will be up Christmas Day meaning there won't be another imagine until the 1st of January. I'm posting this one today because part 2 will be Christmas themed and I don't want to post it late as it'll lose the feel of the story if that makes sense? Anyway, enjoy!

The intricate designs on the walls of Stanford University were unreal. The building’s age exceeds a century; its continued beauty is astonishing. You make your way through the vast arches, looking down at the map of the University provided by senior students standing by the front gate.

‘Dorm 143,’ you hum to yourself, the signs on the walls guiding you in the right direction. You guide your way up the stairs and take a right turn, walking down a lively corridor. You find your room and unlock it with your key, then you’re greeted with a stuffy odour and a plain dorm. Observing the empty space, you plant your bags on the left side of the room. The walls are a boring white and the curtains are bland. There’s no character to this place and you can’t wait to waste your student loan on decorating, so it feels like home.

You open up a window to allow fresh air to flow through, when the door bursts open and the bustle from outside echoes throughout the dorm. A 6 foot something guy balances 2 boxes on top of each other, tossing them on the floor. He doesn’t even notice you before looking up.

“Oh, hey! Sorry, I didn’t see you there,” he exclaims, fixing his fringe, smiling at you cordially. He’s wearing a light, muted blue Nike sweatshirt and a suede jacket on top with dark denim jeans and Nike trainers. He’s a very cute guy and you’re unsure whether he’s got the right room.

“Sorry, I’m Sam. Winchester.” He pauses, holding out a hand for you to shake. You take it. You smile back at him. “I’m Y/N. Are you sure you have the right room?”

“Yeah? Why wouldn’t I?” He asks and you shrug. “I dunno. You don’t seem the type to study law.” He snickers at your comment, furrowing his eyebrows. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You just don’t look the type, that’s all.” You look down at the floor, somewhat embarrassed at what you’ve just said to him. Sam chortles. “Right… Okay.” He says, he turns around and places the boxes he brought in on the right side of the room. You feel very awkward at this point, so you take yourself toward the door to go outside and pick up the rest of your stuff. “Where’re you going?” Sam asks curiously, and you glance at him quickly. “I need to go pick up the rest of my stuff from my car,” you say, “it’s okay. I can get it myself.” You insist and Sam walks toward you. “Let me help you.” He towers over you as he holds the door open. You feel bad if you reject his offer, so you allow him to follow you down to your car, anyway. It could help having an extra pair of hands to bring your things up.

You lead Sam to the pickup truck that you borrowed from your parents, multiple boxes filling the passenger side and even more in the back. Unlocking your car, Sam immediately jumps in and picks up two boxes at a time. You attempt to take two as well, but fail miserably. He chuckles at you. “Here, give it to me,” Sam says, and you carefully place a box on top of the ones he’s already holding.

“So… What’re you doing for the rest of the day?” He asks, trying to break the silence.

“Well, it’s probably gonna take me a while to unpack my things,” you pause in thought, oblivious to what he’s attempting to ask you. “How come?” You question and he shakes his head lightly. “No reason.” He smiles at you. You reach your door and you let yourselves in. Sam places your boxes on the floor carefully, then leaving the room once more. He tells you he’s going to pick up the remaining boxes and for you to stay there. You turn around and look at Sam’s side. There’s a noticeable difference between yours and Sam’s boxes. He had only brought two whilst you have five overstuffed boxes sitting along your bed frame. You almost feel guilty for him. The minimal amount of stuff he’s brought makes you ponder what his life was like before this, before Stanford became reality.

You pick up his coat that was sprawled out on his bed, his wallet barely hanging out from his pocket. A small, frayed polaroid photo peeks out from inside the wallet, a photo of Sam and another guy with short, brown hair and a dark brown leather jacket. He’s wearing an amulet, it’s a brushed bronze colour on a black chord. They seem happy. You notice some lights in the dim background and a quaint Christmas tree; you assume the photo was taken last year. A gentle smile graces your face at the thought of him sharing Christmas with someone. Disregarding the amount of things he’s brought with him, at least he has family to lean back on and that’s where the best memories are kept.

Sam suddenly strolls in, his eye’s taking a second glance at his polaroid quickly being thrown on the bed. He sets the boxes down and places his hands on his hips. “Were you going through my things?” He scoffs, his eyebrow flicks up in disbelief. “I was tidying your things and a polaroid fell out…” You tell a white lie, nothing that would hurt him. Sam laughs lightly, his deep dimples complimenting his face. “It’s okay. It’s my brother and I,” he starts, picking up the picture and examining it himself. “He’s called Dean. Before last Christmas I hadn’t seen him for 2 years. Our father travels a lot and we never get a chance to get together as a family.” Sam looks at you, some regret lingering in his eyes. Your gaze drops to the floor. You just know that there’s something more going on that he’s not telling you, for obvious reasons. Sam notices the change in topic. “Dean’s an asshole, but he’s my brother. He’s a good guy.” Sam places the polaroid in his wallet and hangs his coat up on the rack at the end of his bed.

A few hours had gone by, and at this point you have given up on putting things away and tidying up. Sam sits on his bed, scribbling something on a notepad. He has been quiet since your interaction earlier. Sam had helped you put your things away, but then gave up when it came to your clothes. You relax on your bed, letting out a deep sigh.

“God, I need to get out.” You complain, Sam not moving an inch. He doesn’t even look at you. You sit up on the bed, looking directly at Sam. “I want to go out.” You repeat, and a smile creeps up on his face. “Then go out,” he starts, “no one’s stopping you.” He then goes back to whatever he was writing on his notepad.

“Come out with me.” You suggest, and he huffs.

“Now, why would I want to do that?”

“Because we’re roommates, Sam. We have to get to know each other.” You explain, hoping that he will give in. He sets his notebook down and stands up. He walks over to grab his coat and passes you yours. “Fine. On one condition.” Sam has a cheeky look on his face that proves he’s about to test the waters.

“Go on,”

“You agree that this will be our first date?” He asks, and your cheeks flush red. “I can’t pass up an opportunity to take a pretty girl out.” He adds, making your heart skip a beat. “Sure, it’s a date. But on one condition,” you copy and he lets out a chuckle. “Yeah?” He moves closer to you, his height clearly showing the difference between you both. “Only if you drive.” You prod at his chest, causing him to recoil playfully.

[rylem33]

The Man Next Door

Sandra and Chloe sat together on the couch, the noise of the TV humming in the background. Sandra held a mug of tea, wearing a simple cardigan over her favorite blouse. Chloe, dressed in jeans and a cozy sweatshirt, had a textbook open on her lap and a calculator by her side.

“How are classes going?” Sandra asked, setting her tea down.

Chloe exhaled, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Tough. My calculus professor doesn’t mess around, but I actually kind of love it. It’s so satisfying when the numbers click, you know?”

Sandra smiled warmly. “I’m glad you’re enjoying it. You’ve always been good at math.”

“Yeah, but it’s not just math. I’ve got chem lab right after, and it’s been awesome. My group’s working on titrations, and I didn’t mess up once this week!” Chloe grinned, her excitement contagious.

Sandra leaned back, folding her arms. “That’s my girl. Hard work pays off.”

Chloe nodded, flipping a page in her book. “What about you? How’s the new role at work?”

Sandra shrugged, a modest smile on her face. “It’s a lot more responsibility, but it’s nice to feel like I’m moving up. Plus, it’ll help cover your tuition.”

Chloe looked up, her expression softening. “You’re amazing, you know that? Always putting me first.”

Sandra chuckled, nudging her gently. “That’s what moms are for. But don’t sell yourself short, you’re the one doing the hard part.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Chloe said, leaning back with a satisfied sigh. “I just hope I can keep up.”

“You will,” Sandra assured her. “You’re a smart kid. Just keep working hard.”

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The door slammed shut behind Chloe as she walked into the house, dropping her purse onto the kitchen counter.

“Hey, Mom,” she called out, toeing off her shoes. “Did you see the moving truck?”

Sandra glanced up from her spot on the couch, her reading glasses perched on her nose and a paperback in her lap. “It was here earlier. They’ve been unloading all day.”

Chloe grabbed a soda from the fridge and leaned against the door, cracking it open. “Did you see him?”

Sandra raised an eyebrow. “Him?”

Chloe grinned. “The guy who moved in. Tall, dark hair, super attractive. I passed him in the driveway.”

“Hmm,” Sandra said noncommittally, turning a page in her book.

Chloe smirked. “You’re not even curious? He looked single. Very single.”

Sandra chuckled, setting the book aside. “Chloe, please. I’m sure he’s half my age and not remotely interested in middle-aged neighbors.”

Chloe rolled her eyes. “First of all, you’re not that old. And second, you don’t know that. Maybe he’s into sophisticated women.”

Sandra laughed. “Sophisticated? I’m in yoga pants and a cardigan.”

Chloe shrugged, still smiling. “I’m just saying, he’s cute. You might want to rethink your ‘don’t care’ attitude.”

Sandra leaned back, shaking her head. “How about instead of matchmaking, we come up with something neighborly to do? Maybe take over a welcome package tomorrow.”

Chloe tilted her head, pretending to think it over. “So you can get a better look at him, huh?”

Sandra picked up her book, hiding a smile. “Don’t make me regret this idea.”

“You got it,” Chloe teased. “I’ll pick something up at the bakery after work. Just promise me you won’t embarrass us with those cookies you made last Christmas.”

Sandra gasped in mock offense. “I’ll have you know those were perfectly fine cookies.”

“If you like eating bricks,” Chloe shot back, dodging the pillow Sandra tossed in her direction as she headed for the stairs.

“Tomorrow, Chloe!” Sandra called after her, laughing.

“Yeah, yeah,” Chloe replied, her voice fading as she disappeared into her room.

Sandra shook her head, a faint smile still lingering. “Single and attractive,” she muttered to herself, glancing toward the window. “We’ll see.”

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Sandra set her purse down on the kitchen counter and sighed, leaning against it as Chloe rummaged through the fridge.

“Well, that was… something,” Sandra said, her voice laced with dry amusement.

Chloe emerged with a soda in hand, cracking it open. “What do you mean? He was nice!”

Sandra crossed her arms. “He was polite. But there was something about him. I don’t know. I just felt an odd vibe.”

Chloe laughed, leaning against the counter. “Odd vibe? Come on, Mom. He was perfectly fine.” She paused, winking. “And he was fine.”

Sandra groaned, shaking her head. “Chloe, no. I’m not interested, and I don’t need you playing matchmaker.”

“Why not?” Chloe pressed, grinning. “He’s tall, charming, and looks like he could be in a magazine. You can’t tell me you didn’t notice.”

“I noticed that his house is immaculate for someone who just moved in, and that he didn’t say much about himself,” Sandra replied, raising an eyebrow. “It felt… rehearsed.”

Chloe shrugged. “Maybe he’s just good at making a first impression. You’re reading too much into it.”

Sandra picked up a dish towel and started wiping the counter. “Or maybe I’m just not looking to date the mysterious new neighbor.”

“Your loss,” Chloe teased. “If you don’t want him, maybe I’ll take a shot.”

Sandra snapped the towel in Chloe’s direction, laughing when Chloe yelped. “Absolutely not. He’s twice your age, Chloe.”

“Please, Mom,” Chloe said, dodging out of reach. “Thirty-something is hardly ancient.” She smirked. “But seriously, you’re missing out. If you won’t date him, at least admit he’s hot.”

Sandra sighed dramatically, turning back to the sink. “Fine. He’s… handsome. Happy?”

“Extremely,” Chloe said, grinning as she sipped her soda. “So, when’s round two? I’m thinking we bring over wine next time.”

Sandra shot her a look. “There won’t be a round two. He’s our neighbor, not a new project. And I don’t need wine or a man to keep me entertained.”

“Boring,” Chloe sang, heading for the stairs. “But don’t worry, Mom. I’ll keep an eye on him for you.”

Sandra shook her head, laughing under her breath. “Please don’t.”

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The front door creaked open, and Chloe stepped inside, her heels clicking softly on the tile floor. Sandra, seated at the kitchen table with her laptop, didn’t look up at first, but the sound of the door closing made her glance toward her daughter.

“You’re home late,” Sandra said, her tone neutral but sharp enough to imply she was fishing.

“Yeah,” Chloe replied casually, kicking off her shoes. “I was at the library. Study group ran long.”

Sandra leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. “Funny. The library doesn’t smell like men’s cologne.”

Chloe froze mid-step, then turned slowly, her expression caught between guilt and defiance. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Sandra raised an eyebrow. “It means I know you weren’t at the library. You were at Peter’s house, weren’t you?”

Chloe’s eyes darted to the side for a moment before she sighed, throwing her purse onto the counter. “Fine. Yes, I was at Peter’s. But it’s not a big deal.”

Sandra stood, her concern bubbling into irritation. “Not a big deal? Chloe, this is the third time I know of. God knows how many more I don’t.”

Chloe rolled her eyes. “He’s just helping me with my college work, Mom. He’s really smart.”

Sandra’s frown deepened. “And he doesn’t have anything better to do than help a twenty-year-old with homework?”

Chloe crossed her arms. “Why are you acting like this is some kind of scandal? He’s been nothing but nice.”

“Because it looks inappropriate, Chloe,” Sandra said firmly. “He’s an older man, he’s single, and he’s our neighbor. You’re putting yourself in a situation that’s going to lead to trouble.”

Chloe let out a frustrated laugh. “God, you make it sound so dirty. He’s not some creep, Mom. He’s just… kind of amazing, actually.”

Sandra’s eyes narrowed. “Amazing, how?”

Chloe hesitated, her defensiveness softening slightly. “He’s easy to talk to. He listens, you know? And he’s not like other guys. He’s… confident, but not in a gross way. It’s hard to explain.”

“That’s exactly what worries me,” Sandra said, her voice quieter but no less serious. “He’s a grown man, Chloe. And you’re vulnerable, whether you realize it or not.”

Chloe groaned, rubbing her temples. “Vulnerable? Seriously? I’m an adult. I don’t need you to protect me from every guy who’s nice to me.”

“Peter isn’t just any guy,” Sandra countered. “And I don’t like how much time you’re spending with him.”

Chloe shrugged, turning toward the stairs. “Well, you don’t have to like it, because there’s nothing wrong with it.”

Sandra called after her. “Chloe, don’t walk away from this conversation!”

“I’m done talking, Mom!” Chloe shouted back, disappearing up the stairs.

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Sandra was stirring a pot of soup on the stove when she heard the front door close. She turned and froze, her eyes narrowing as Chloe strutted into the kitchen. Her outfit left little to the imagination.

“Where are you going dressed like that?” Sandra asked, her tone sharper than intended.

Chloe grabbed her bag from the counter, brushing past her mother with a casual shrug. “Out,” she said simply.

Sandra set the spoon down, crossing her arms. “Out where?”

Chloe sighed loudly, spinning on her heel to face her mom. “Does it, like, matter? God, Mom, why do you always need to know where I’m going?”

Sandra’s eyes narrowed. “Because you’re acting like someone I don’t even recognize. Look at what you’re wearing! When did this become you?”

Chloe smirked, a faint flicker of irritation behind her eyes. “What’s wrong with it? Peter says I should, like, be proud of my body. It’s not a big deal.”

Sandra stiffened at the mention of Peter, her jaw tightening. “Peter again. Everything is Peter this, Peter that. Do you even hear yourself, Chloe?”

Chloe tilted her head, her voice growing defensive. “Yeah, I hear myself. And I’m tired of hearing you! You’re always treating me like a kid.”

“Because you’re acting like one!” Sandra snapped, her voice sharp. “I’ve been trying to talk to you, Chloe, to get through to you, but all you do is shut me out.”

Chloe crossed her arms, her pout deepening. “Maybe that’s because you’re always on my case about, like, everything. I’m twenty, Mom. I’m not some dumb little kid.”

Sandra stepped closer, her voice soft but firm. “And spending all your time with a man twice your age, dressing like this, and ignoring everyone who cares about you. Is that’s the kind of ‘grown-up’ you’re trying to be?”

Chloe flinched slightly, but her voice stayed defiant. “Peter actually respects me. Which is, like, more than I can say for you!”

Sandra’s face flickered with hurt, but she stood her ground. “Respect? Chloe, this isn’t respect. He’s taking advantage of you, and you’re letting him.”

Chloe rolled her eyes, gripping her bag tighter. “Ugh, you don’t even know him, Mom. Peter’s so nice. You just don’t get it.”

“I know enough,” Sandra replied coldly.

Chloe sighed dramatically, turning toward the door. “Whatever. Maybe you should, like, stay out of my business for once.”

“Chloe…” Sandra called, but her daughter cut her off.

“I’m done, Mom,” Chloe said sharply, pulling the door open.

Sandra took a step forward, her voice tinged with desperation. “Chloe, don’t you walk out that door. Don’t go to his house.”

Chloe paused in the doorway, turning back with a sly, knowing smirk. “Too late for that.”

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Sandra stepped into the house, dropping her keys on the entryway table and pausing to slip off her shoes. From the living room, the faint sound of pop music played over the hum of the TV, where Chloe sat perched on the edge of the couch, scrolling through her phone. Her long legs were crossed, barely covered by the micro-skirt she wore, and her tight crop top left little to the imagination.

“Hey, Mom!” Chloe called out without looking up, her voice higher, almost sing-song, as if she’d been practicing a more playful tone.

Sandra hesitated before walking into the room, taking a deep breath. “Hi, Chloe.”

Chloe looked up with a wide grin, twirling a strand of her platinum blonde hair around her finger. “Ooooh, you look nice today, Mom! Is that new?”

Sandra glanced down at her fitted blouse and jeans, a touch more stylish than her usual outfits, and smiled faintly. “No, it’s not new. But thanks.”

Chloe patted the couch next to her. “C’mere! Sit with me!”

Sandra moved slowly, lowering herself onto the cushion. Chloe turned to face her, her makeup heavy and flawless, the faint scent of candy-sweet perfume clinging to her.

“I talked to Peter,” Sandra said after a moment, her voice measured.

Chloe’s grin faltered slightly, but she kept her tone light. “Oh? What about?”

“About… you,” Sandra replied, her hands clasped tightly in her lap.

Chloe blinked, then giggled nervously. “Mooooom, what’d you say to him? You didn’t, like, embarrass me or anything, right?”

Sandra shook her head, her tone softening. “No, Chloe. I just… I had some concerns, that’s all. About how much time you’ve been spending with him, and how close you’ve gotten.”

Chloe tilted her head, her smile dimming. “Why? Peter’s, like, the best. He’s been soooo nice to me.”

Sandra hesitated. “I know he has,” she said finally. “And he explained a lot. About how he’s been helping you feel more confident, about your schoolwork, even about the way you’ve been dressing.”

Chloe brightened instantly. “See? That’s what I’ve been saying! Peter’s just super smart and knows, like, what’s best for me. He gets me, Mom.”

Sandra nodded slowly. “I think I see that now.”

Chloe gasped, leaning forward and grabbing Sandra’s hand. “Wait, really? You’re okay with it now? For real?”

Sandra hesitated again but nodded. “Yes, Chloe. If you’re happy, then… I’ll try to be okay with it.”

Chloe squealed, throwing her arms around Sandra in an exuberant hug. “Oh my gosh, Mom! This makes me soooo happy! Peter’s gonna be so happy too!”

Sandra patted Chloe’s back awkwardly, the faintest trace of unease lingering in her expression. “I just want you to be careful,” she said quietly as Chloe pulled back.

Chloe waved her off with a laugh. “Careful? Please. Peter takes such good care of me. Like, better than anyone ever has.”

Sandra looked at her daughter for a long moment, noting how her gaze sparkled with pure, guileless excitement, how utterly at ease she seemed with her new persona. “I’m glad you feel that way,” she said at last.

“Thanks, Mom!” Chloe chirped, bouncing up from the couch. She grabbed her phone and swayed toward the door, her skirt riding higher as she moved. “You’re the best! Oh, and Peter and I are hanging out later, so don’t wait up, okay?”

“Okay,” Sandra replied, watching Chloe head upstairs.

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Sandra was sitting at the kitchen counter with a glass of wine, flipping through her phone when Chloe strutted in, her usual glow brighter than ever. She plopped down next to her mom, a mischievous grin already playing on her lips.

“You’re in a good mood,” Sandra remarked, sipping her wine.

Chloe giggled, leaning her elbows on the counter. “Well, yeah. I’ve been having, like, the best time lately.”

Sandra raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a knowing smile. “Oh? Should I even ask?”

Chloe leaned closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “It’s Peter. He’s just… oh my God, Mom, he’s sooooo good in bed.”

Sandra choked slightly on her wine, quickly setting the glass down. “Chloe!”

“What?” Chloe said, laughing. “You wanted to know, didn’t you?”

Sandra hesitated, her cheeks coloring faintly. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Well, now you know,” Chloe said with a wink. “And seriously, Mom, you’re missing out. Like, he knows exactly what to do. I didn’t even know I could cum so many times in one night.”

Sandra blinked, her grip tightening slightly on the stem of her glass. “I’m not sure I need all the details, Chloe.”

“Why not?” Chloe said, giggling again. “It’s not like I’m shy about it. Peter’s, like, a total god in bed. Every fucks me, I just… ugh, it’s so good. His dick has ruined me for other guys.”

Sandra’s lips parted, her breath catching for a moment as she tried to form a response. “I… well, it sounds like you’re very… satisfied,” she said finally, her voice quieter than usual.

“Totally,” Chloe said with a dreamy sigh. “Like, I get why you’re so into him, too. He’s just got that thing, you know?”

Sandra’s gaze dropped to her glass of wine, her cheeks warm. “He hasn’t exactly made a move on me,” she admitted, her tone careful.

Chloe gasped, sitting up straighter. “No way! Are you serious? He totally should. I mean, you’re gorgeous, Mom. And he’s, like, so good at making people feel amazing.”

Sandra chuckled lightly, though the sound was tinged with a mix of amusement and something deeper. “Well, maybe he’s waiting for the right moment.”

Chloe smirked, tilting her head. “Maybe you should make the first move. I mean, Peter’s super confident, but even he might be nervous about hitting on you.”

Sandra looked up, her gaze distant as her mind wandered. “I don’t think Peter gets nervous,” she said softly, more to herself than to Chloe.

“Well, if he doesn’t, then you should totally go for it,” Chloe said, nudging her mom playfully. “Trust me, Mom. You won’t regret it.”

Sandra forced a laugh, shaking her head. “I think I’ll leave the chasing to you, Chloe.”

“Your loss,” Chloe said, grinning as she stood up and stretched. “But seriously, Mom. If he ever does make a move, you should totally go for it. He’s… unreal.”

Sandra watched as Chloe strolled out of the kitchen, her confident sway so unlike the shy girl she’d been just months ago. Alone now, Sandra swirled the wine in her glass, her thoughts swirling just as much.

She glanced out the window, where Peter’s house stood silent and dark, and a faint smile tugged at her lips. “Unreal,” she murmured, the word lingering in the air.

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Sandra was carefully applying another coat of gloss to her already shiny lips. The light caught the glitter in her eyeshadow, making her gaze pop, and her fitted black dress clung tightly to her figure, barely reaching mid-thigh. Her heels, impossibly high and sleek, clicked softly against the tile as she shifted her weight.

Chloe sauntered into the room, her towering blonde hair styled in perfect waves, and her pink minidress so short it looked more like a top. She carried a small designer bag that swung lazily from her wrist, the clinking of her bracelets accompanying every exaggerated sway of her hips.

“Oh my God, Mom,” Chloe said, her voice light and bubbly. “You look, like, soooo hot right now!”

Sandra turned, giving her daughter a playful smile. “You think it’s too much?”

Chloe’s jaw dropped, and she waved her hands in mock horror. “Too much? Are you kidding? Peter’s gonna, like, die when he sees you.”

Sandra chuckled, smoothing the fabric over her hips. “That’s the plan.”

Chloe plopped onto one of the stools by the island, crossing her long legs and propping her chin on her palm. “I’m soooo proud of you, Mom. It’s, like, totally about time you went for it. Peter’s, like, the best ever. He’s gonna make you feel sooooo good.”

Sandra laughed softly, her cheeks flushing just a little. “You make him sound like a miracle worker.”

“Duh,” Chloe said, twirling a strand of her platinum hair. “He is. I mean, Mom, you’ve seen what he’s done for me. I, like, feel soooo confident and sexy all the time now. Don’t you?”

Sandra hesitated, glancing down at herself before meeting Chloe’s sparkling eyes. “I do,” she admitted. “I haven’t felt this good in years.”

Chloe beamed. “See? I told you he’s, like, magic or something.” She leaned closer, her voice dropping conspiratorially. “And wait until you, like, get to the fun part. He’s soooo good at making you feel… like, amazing amazing.”

Sandra smirked, her pulse quickening just slightly. “You’re not helping calm my nerves, Chloe.”

Chloe giggled, waving her hand. “Oh, please. You don’t need to be nervous, Mom. Peter’s, like, the nicest guy ever. He totally knows how to, like, take care of you.”

Sandra picked up her clutch from the counter, checking her reflection in the chrome of the refrigerator. “Well, I guess I’ll find out.”

Chloe bounced off the stool and rushed over to her mom, grabbing her by the shoulders. “You’re gonna love it. Trust me, Mom. Just, like, relax and let him do his thing. You’re gonna feel soooo good after.”

Sandra laughed, shaking her head as she headed for the door. “Alright, sweetheart. Wish me luck.”

“Luck?” Chloe called after her, grinning ear to ear. “You don’t need luck, Mom. You’re, like, a total hottie! Peter’s gonna go crazy for you.”

Sandra stepped out into the warm evening, the sound of her heels clicking on the pavement as she crossed the street toward Peter’s house. Chloe leaned against the doorframe, watching her go with an almost giddy expression.

“Go get him, Mom,” Chloe whispered, twirling a lock of her hair as the door closed behind her.

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Chloe sat cross-legged on the couch, her long legs on full display, her tiny red lace bralette and matching thong leaving almost nothing to the imagination. She twirled a strand of blonde hair around her finger, absently chewing gum as she scrolled through her phone.

Sandra reclined beside her, draped in a red silk robe that barely concealed her naked body. Her long legs were propped up on the coffee table, her glossy nails tapping idly against the arm of the couch.

“Ugh, I’m soooo bored,” Chloe whined, tossing her phone onto the cushion beside her. “There’s, like, nothing to do.”

Sandra smirked, adjusting her robe and looking over at her daughter. “Tell me about it. Nothing feels worth doing…except for Peter.”

Chloe giggled, leaning back and kicking her legs playfully. “Well, duh, Mom. I mean, what else is there? He’s, like, soooo amazing. Everything’s better when he’s here.”

Sandra’s lips curved into a wicked grin. “Mmm, you’re not wrong, sweetie. It’s been days since I’ve seen him, and I’m about ready to lose my mind.”

Chloe nodded enthusiastically, her gum snapping between her teeth. “Right? He’s, like, sooo perfect. Every time he comes over, it’s, like, the best time ever.”

Sandra chuckled, licking her lips as her gaze drifted toward the door. “I swear, just the thought of him gets me worked up.”

Chloe leaned forward, propping her chin on her hands. “Mom, do you think he’s gonna, like, fuck us again? I loooove when we double-team him. It’s, like, soooo fun.”

Sandra tilted her head, her voice dropping to a sultry purr. “Oh, I’m sure. Peter always knows what we need.”

Chloe giggled again, her cheeks flushing. “Mmm, yeah. He’s, like, soooo good at knowing exactly what I want.”

Sandra laughed, running a hand through her styled hair. “Sweetheart, that man could ask for anything, and I’d give it to him in a heartbeat.”

Chloe tilted her head, looking dreamily at the ceiling. “Same. He’s, like, the best thing ever.”

Before Sandra could respond, a knock echoed through the house. Both women froze for a moment, their heads snapping toward the door.

“Oh my God!” Chloe squealed, springing up from the couch. “Do you think it’s him?”

Sandra’s grin widened, and she stood, adjusting her robe as she moved toward the door. “There’s only one way to find out.”

Chloe bounced on her toes, her excitement palpable as Sandra reached for the handle.

Sandra opened the door slowly, her heart racing as her lips parted into a welcoming smile.

“Ladies,” Peter said smoothly, stepping inside without hesitation. “Miss me?”

Chloe practically squealed, rushing to close the door behind him.

Sandra’s smile deepened, her voice dripping with anticipation. “Always, Peter.”

[billthedrake]

GRANDDADDY ISSUES

I tried not to seem too eager, waiting in the living room. The Christmas tree was still up and various cookies and candy still out. Mom always went all out for the holidays, even if it was just the two of us.

Thing was, my mother was happy I was close to her father. Always had been and even more so since her divorce. Granddad Paul didn't live super close, but he made an effort to come visit at least once a month. Catching my lacrosse games, being there for my birthday each year, and just completing out the rump family Mom and I had. As a single mother, she held it together, props to her, but Granddad made it feel like a family.

Summers I'd spend a month with the man. He was a high school history teacher and football coach, and had down time to spend with me. I was 16 before I realized his appointed, or self-appointed role, was to be the father figure in my life. Teaching me guy stuff, man stuff. Fishing, camping, home repairs. Birds and the bees. Guy talk.

Of course Mom would freak out, and more, if she new Granddad Paul and I had fooled around the summer after high school. Testing the waters, then diving in. I thought I was confused sexually, but when Granddad went down on me, and sucked a healthy load from my 18 year old jock balls, I knew I wasn't confused one bit. I learned how to return the favor.

I heard him pull up, an old but reliable pick up truck. I looked out the window to watch him get out.

Granddad was the perfect man in my book. 5'10 and barrel chested, walking slightly bow legged like an overgrown jock, he strode up to the door, hands in his jeans pocket. He had on only jeans and gray sweatshirt emblazoned with the high school he'd coached at. He'd let his normal short hair cut grow out to a medium length, almost shaggy and fully gray.

"Killer!" he beamed when I opened the door. I could see the silvery stubble on his chin and smell his aftershave as he pulled me into a tight hug. I now knew how to return the bear clasp myself, patting Granddad's meaty back and feeling his cool cheek next to mine before we pulled back, matching smiles on our faces. Yeah, Granddad missed me, too. He gave a wink and patted my upper arm.

"Merry Christmas, Dad!" I heard my mom behind me. My cue to step aside.

"Linda!" Granddad said. "Merry Christmas." He greeted my mother with a gentler hug. "You're looking great," he said.

My mom had been taking care of herself lately. She had a new boyfriend, Gary, who'd come over for Christmas dinner. I suspected they were more serious than Mom let on, but she didn't want to push things too fast with me. Not that I cared.

For his part, Granddad always had Christmas dinner with my uncle and his family, who lived closer to him. So the day after was Christmas part two for us. Presents and an afternoon light dinner before I threw a couple of bags in the cab of his truck for the hour ride.

It was great this year. Mom was in a great mood, between the boyfriend, her recent promotion at work and my return from college. I did my best to help in the kitchen so should could have time with Granddad.

I'd bought Granddad a new electric shaver Mom said he wanted. The irony was clear to me when he opened it, his scruff fully evident. He even made a joke about it. "Guess it is time to get more presentable," he said.

He got Mom a gift card for the local department store. "You know I can't pick out what you want, Linda," he apologized.

"I'll make good use of it," she assured him, getting out of her chair to give him an affectionate hug.

I was blown away when I opened the small box for my present. There were two tickets to the upcoming Panthers game.

"Jesus, Granddad," I let out, then checked myself. Mom didn't like me to swear, though I didn't do any outright cussing.

He looked like he couldn't wait to read my reaction. "They're as much for me as for you, even if the Panthers aren't doing so hot this season," he said. "I figured it would give us something to do this week."

It was a week and a half I'd spend with the man, but who was counting?

We ended up hitting the road by mid afternoon. Granddad wanted to get us back before nighttime. On the ride it was a lot of catching up. Mostly me giving a monologue about my first freshman semester, what classes I was taking, and what I'd signed up for in Spring.

I could tell something was on Granddad Paul's mind. "You, um, talk to your dad, Drew?" he asked.

I nodded. "Yes, sir. we talked a little yesterday," I said in a flat tone. I didn't get along with my father. He was pretty absent and I had a lot of resentment.

Granddad looked over with a deep emotion and reached over to massage the back of my neck. It was affectionate and perfect. "I know it's tough, kiddo." Pulling his eyes back to the road he kept his hand there. The touch was getting me hard.

And as I looked over, taking in his weathered face and deepening wrinkles that framed his ruddy cheeks and roman nose, I was getting turned on for real now. I was wired for men, older men. Old men, really, though I was a low-key resentful that none of the men in the "mature" porn matched Granddad's hotness. He was well-preserved and yet clearly in his 60s. That combination was electric to me.

The man seemed to read my mind. "You know, Drew, we don't have to do anything this week. Anything you don't wanna."

I nodded. But my tone was upbeat, eager. "I wanna Granddad," I assured him. "It's kind of all Ive been thinking about the last few months."

"Is that right?" he chuckled. I felt his fingers tease the hair on the nape of my neck. "I figured Killer Stenson would have some fun to keep him occupied in college." Stenson was my Dad's last name, and mine too.

I spread my legs. I was officially bricked now. If Granddad had said HE didn't want to fool around, I didn't know what I would have done. I would have respected his wishes, and yet...

"No, sir. I guess I'm not wired for college guys, really," I said. It was a big admission, and one I'd rehearsed in my head for several weeks now. Turns out, Granddad Paul made me feel comfortable. It was all coming out easily now.

"And college girls?" he prompted.

"Not wired for girls at all, actually."

He nodded, taking it in. "You told your mother?"

I shook my head. "No, sir," I replied. "I haven't told anyone. Other than you."

"Well, it's no one's damn business if you don't want it to be."

We were getting close to Granddad's place and soon he removed his hand as he turned into the gravel driveway. He was a widower and when he'd retired, he'd bought a mountain cabin. We pulled up, and I got one bag, and Granddad the other. As we entered, I was reminded of the distinctly masculine space of the place. Wood paneling and woody-smoky scent from the fireplace. Framed photos of mountains and nature, a signed football jersey framed behind glass, and not much else for decoration.

Granddad could get in no-nonsense mode and already he was leading me back to the second bedroom, which was the guest room when I visited. "Everything is here for you, Drew," he said, setting down my bag.

I gave a quick look in. Basic bed with wool blanket rather than a duvet or comforter. I wanted to respect Granddad's space, but I had to take a chance.

"I was kinda hoping I could be in the master bedroom," I said, nervously looking into the man's blue eyes.

That caught him by surprise. We'd fooled around the previous summer, a lot actually, but it had felt very exploratory, a naughty new game for both of us. Maybe this was my way of ratcheting that game up. But I'd had almost four long months to imagine this visit.

Granddad was caught by surprise. "For real, Killer?" he asked, in that "are you sure?" tone. Then giving me a wink, he added, "I snore, you know."

"I don't give a fuck, Granddad," I said, emboldened by the fact he hadn't said no.

There was a look of lust on that handsome face of his, and Granddad closed the distance between us. I felt his breath and then the scruff of his stubble before our lips touched. A gentle peck, then I opened my mouth. Granddad has a thick tongue and I could feel it snake in between my lips.

Oh fuck, we were making out, and this felt different than before. Granddad pulling my body into his and me feeling up that strong body through his sweatshirt.

"Easy, Killer," he finally mumbled into my lips. "Soft kissin can be kind of hot, too."

And then Granddad showed me a new speed, a new technique. He was right, this was incredible, and amazingly the gentler approach was fueling my boner just as much.

I did grunt, though, as I felt Granddad's paw grip my crotch.

He had a big smile as he pulled back. "Let's take this to my bed, young man."

We made our way to the master bedroom and quickly stripped down. I loved how Granddad's eyes were on me the whole time. "You packed on some more muscle at school, stud?" he asked.

I nodded. "Yes, sir. Been hitting the weights hard," I added. I wasn't playing lacrosse at college, but I wanted to maintain and develop my jock body.

His eyes swept up and down my near nakedness. Appreciative, even as he got his lecturing tone. That Coach tone. "I hope you're doing it for yourself, Drew," he said. "Not for anyone else."

"I am, Granddad," I said with a slightly annoyed tone. Maybe he was right that my body issues and insecurities were driving my obsession with lifting and putting on muscle.

"Well, you're the kind of stud who makes me thankful I'm a man."

Then I watched Granddad slip off his underwear, showing off that full magnificent 65 year old body. Muscular but with some loose sag to the beef, that build was covered in a thick silvery fur trimmed evenly, at least until the darker bush, where gray pubic hairs grew longer and stray next to the brown ones. Granddad Paul's cock was just shy of 6 inches and cut and pretty thick, especially at the base. He'd confided to me that he took pills for a mild case of ED, and maybe he'd taken one that day, because his prick was sticking up hard.

"I'm thankful you're a man, too, Granddad," I joked, even as I slid off my boxers and showed my grandfather my erect dong. I wasn't as thick as him, but I had a good inch and a half in length on him.

"Goddamn," he hissed. I loved how the man let loose with the swearing when it was just us. Especially at times like this. He stepped up and reached down to gently stroke my hardon from base to tip. "OK if I suck this, Drew?"

I didn't know why he was being so coy, but then I realized he'd had four long months to imagine us having sex again. Anticipating. Not knowing where we'd pick off, or even if we would.

"Um, yeah, Granddad."

He looked up from my dick. "You know, my name is Paul."

"I know," I said. It felt weird being on a first name basis. The tone in my voice suggested I never would be.

That got a chuckle out of him. He hadn't let go of my cock, instead he slowly stroked it. Without lube it felt more of a tease motion rather than a jacking off pleasure. I loved it. "If you're game, there's some stuff I want to try this week," he said. A little nervousness was behind his mature experience.

"Yeah?" I asked excitedly. I reached forward to feel up his torso, feeling the thickness of his aged muscle.

He nodded. "You tried fucking yet, Killer?" he asked with a grin.

"No, sir," I said. "Been thinking about it, though. A lot."

That brought a smile to his face. "Your mother would kill me," he said.

"She's not gonna find out, sir," I assured him.

Granddad released my dick and then crouched down in front of me, His strong hands ran up and down my outer quads as he stared at my dick. "We're gonna have a lot of fun this week, aren't we, Killer?" he breathed.

"Yes, Granddad," I answered.

He leaned in some and skinned back my foreskin. "You know I'm not a big fan of your father, but I'll give him credit for leaving your skin intact."

I felt his tongue taste the tip then watched him open up and take me in. I still got a thrill from seeing this masculine man being so enthusiastic sucking dick. He didn't got slow either. Taking just a second to get used to me and my size, he began working me up and down with long steady mouth strokes. Twisting his head slightly and giving a gentle tug of my balls.

"Granddad!" I urged. My lock was loaded and my sexual response was far more primed than I expected. If Granddad kept it up, I wouldn't last long. I even gave a half hearted attempt to push his shoulders back, but he kept on me. I looked down on his almost entirely gray hair and his mature body. He was bobbing faster now, and sucking more fervently. "FUCK!" I gasped.

I heard the man choked down my heavy load in successive swallows. His moans around my spurting prick were deep and appreciative as he rode out my orgasm with his slowed down sucking.

"Goddamn, buddy," he finally said as he pulled back and wiped his chin. "That's one helluva load. Please tell me you have more in the tanks for later."

"Probably," I laughed, enjoying the way my dick stayed rigid after cumming so hard.

He took his time standing up. "Think I can feel you up for a bit?" he asked. Already he was climbing on to the bed and scooting over to the other side to pull out some lube.

I wasn't sure what he was wanting but I got in bed, too. He squirted a good deal of lube on his dick and started stroking before turning back to me. His free hand ran along my bare torso.

"You got a beautiful body, Killer," he said, openly massaging my chest and abs. I wasn't completely smooth but compared to him I was.

"Thank, Granddad," I said. "I love yours, too." I reached out and began to touch his furry chest.

"I'm old," he said with a laugh.

I looked into his eyes. "Don't take this the wrong way, Granddad, but I like em old."

"You into the daddies, Killer?" Granddad smiled.

"Older, even," I admitted. "A man has to be 60 before I notice him. I'm kind of messed up."

"Hardly, stud," he said. He took his hand and moved to touch and caress my chin. "I got a good bud like you."

I tried to pick up on the implications of what he was saying. Put two and two together. "A boyfriend?" I knew Granddad had gone mostly for men after Grandma died. Said he didn't think he was up for another traditional relationship and that there was too much lost time to make up.

"No," the man replied. "Just a deep friendship. He's married now, but craves a little coach time, you know?" I could tell he was hesitant to tell me about this.

"A former player?" I asked.

"That stays between you and me, Killer."

"Yes, sir." I ran my hand down, past his moving fist, to cup his balls. "I'm just glad you got someone looking after you, Granddad."

"Oh kiddo," he breathed, closing in the gap for another kiss. This was less soft than before but it was amazing. Real heavy making out as Granddad moved back to feeling my body as he jerked off. He had a slower sexual response but it didn't take him long. He pawed at my chest more aggressively as I felt the tension rise and release in his body. He grunted into my mouth and I felt his hot cum splash on my belly.

We embraced and held each other after our orgasms, making out some but also just feeling each other's bodies.

"So... the older man thing," Granddad said, breaking the silence. "How much of that is me?"

He asked the thing that had been on my mind. "Some of it. But I think if we hadn't fooled around, I would have found someone who reminded me of you."

That got a soft grunt from the man. I knew the words hit him in an emotional and sexual place. "Is that what we're doing, Killer? Just fooling around?" There was an edge to his voice, teasing yet sexual.

"Oh god, Granddad," I hissed. "I've been trying not to get ahead of myself."

He gave me a thoughtful look, his blue eyes set off by his gray hair and weathered face. "Well, we got all week to figure things out."

"Week and a half," I corrected.

Granddad smiled. "You serious about what I said earlier? About trying more?"

I felt his strong biceps, pumped beneath the looser skin. "I'm not very experienced, sir. But I wanna be. I want you to be the one to show me."

We kissed, soft again, super slow. I was hard but not eager to cum again, just enjoying the proximity to him. I could feel Granddad's cock plump out, too. It was dark out, pitch black dark, and we had only the light of the bedlamp. I had no idea what time it was, but my stomach rumbled.

That got his attention. He pulled back and looked me up and down. I had the feeling I was his Christmas present, more than the electric razor. "Let's get some food in you, buddy. And we can take our time with the rest, OK?"

I got up. Granddad handed me one of his T-shirts and a spare pair of sweats. I loved wearing his clothes, and I loved that he trusted me to start a fire in the fireplace while he made us some burgers. Granddad is particular about the fireplace being set up and lit the proper way.

Even if the meal was casual, washed down with cans of cold lager, it felt like the most special date night I could imagine.

Maybe I was a little too silent as I ate. Even when I was done, I sipped my beer and looked at Granddad Paul's handsomeness and felt like the luckiest man.

"What are you thinking, Drew?" he asked softly.

I blushed. "Just crushing out on you a little, sir. Sorry."

He shook his head. "Don't be sorry. I'm crushing out on you, too, buddy. More than a little."

I felt flush hot with desire and emotion now. I threw hard, I couldn't help. Granddad noticed and chuckled. "Just be patient with me, Killer, I'm an old man and don't have the sex drive I once did."

My turn to laugh. "You do just fine, sir." This time I took the initiative, setting down my beer and moving over to kiss him.

I lost track of time again. Both of us did. I never fished my beer. I was tired enough anyway, when Granddad wordlessly led me back to his bedroom. Our bedroom for the week. No more sex that night, just spoon naked against one another. But Grandad Paul was right: we had all the time we wanted to take together.

[phantomdreamgirl]

A Merry, Little Christmas Night

Merry Christmas, everyone! My gift to you is some Gator fluff 😘

Gator sits in his truck, holding a small velvet box. He stares at it for the longest time before tearing his eyes away from it to look over at your house. He sees the brightly lit Christmas tree through the window and the multicolor string lights that line the porch. It's a familiar sight that feels different tonight. The thought of seeing you makes him nervous, though he knows it shouldn't. He worries you'll reject him like so many have before. He doesn't think he would survive that, as you're the only person who really means anything to him.

He sighs before putting the box in his pocket and opening the door. Snow crunches under his boots as he walks up the slippery path towards the porch.

The sound of his heavy footsteps echoes off the old wood and in his ears as he briefly pauses at the front door. His hand hovers over the doorknob, his nerves almost getting the best of him before he goes inside.

He's immediately greeted with warmth not just from the baseboard heaters but from the overall mood in the house. He passes through the living room, fondly observing the decorations that have been there since Thanksgiving. His eyes are then drawn to the muted TV playing National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation. He smiles, knowing it's your favorite Christmas movie. It's then that he notices the scent of cinnamon in the air.

He reaches the kitchen doorway and just watches as you take a tray of cookies from the oven. You seem to be in your own little world as you set the tray on the counter before adjusting the oven's temperature to bake the last of the dinner rolls to accompany the rest of your Christmas feast. Once you put them in, you turn away towards the sink and that's when he decides to finally make his move.

He stands behind you, slipping his arms around your waist and presses his lips to your ear.

"Hey gorgeous," he softly greets, startling you.

You hiss his name before turning to look at him.

"You shouldn't sneak up on me like that," you scold, turning to face him.

"I couldn't help myself, wanted to surprise ya," he defends, pulling you tightly against him.

"Its okay," you then smile. "I'm just glad you're home. I heard we're in for another snowstorm tonight and I hated the thought of you still out on the road."

"I can handle myself out there, honey, ya know that," he replies, confident.

"I know, but still-"

"Nope, don't wanna hear it," he dismisses, cradling your face. "Just wanna kiss ya, since I've gone all day without it."

"So dramatic," you tease, as he leans in.

"Damn, so mouthy already," he smirks. "I think I need to take ya to bed and give ya an attitude adjustment."

"Not until after we eat," you reply, unfazed. "I didn't spend all day slaving over all this food for nothing."

"Fine," he huffs, with playful annoyance.

He then finally kisses you and it's more intense than you expect. Your body melts into his as he kisses you deeply. Regaining yourself, you gently push him away with a sigh of his name.

"I just really missed ya, honey," he says, suddenly bashful.

You smile up at him. "I know, I missed you, too, handsome. Now, go get changed so we can eat."

He nods, begrudgingly releasing you from his embrace. He gives you one last peck on the lips before heading towards the back bedroom.

He's glad to change into warmer, more comfortable clothes, as he puts on a forest green sweatshirt with black sweatpants. He also takes the little velvet box from his camo pant pocket and holds it in his hand. He's decided he's going to ask you after dinner, with hopes that he won't ruin Christmas.

When he reenteres the kitchen, he sees the table all set and waiting for him. He has to quickly blink away tears as he doesn't want you to see him cry just yet.

"Well, what do you think?" You ask, posing like a display model next to the table.

"Its perfect," he answers, walking over to you. "Just like you."

He kisses you sweetly and feels you smiling into it.

During dinner, he thinks how this is a preview of how all your Christmas' are going to be from now on and that almost brings another tear to his eye. He loves how effortless it was adjusting to the domesticity he's craved all his life. How you seemed to adore him, even when you pretended you didn't. He's never loved you more and his anxiety quietly builds as you join him on the couch to watch his favorite Christmas movie, Die Hard.

You hand him a couple of oatmeal raisin cookies you had baked earlier that afternoon and he quickly devours them. Giggling, you ask if he liked them and he nods so cutely. You hurry back to the kitchen and bring the rest of them to him, in a plastic bowl. He proceeds to eat them over the course of the movie.

By the time the credits roll, you're curled into his side, almost asleep. He glances at you before gently nudging you awake. You then look up at him, so groggy and sweet, he thinks his heart could burst.

"Sorry, honey, I just have something really important I wanna talk to ya about," he explains, as you raise your head from his chest.

"Okay..." you reply, unsure of what could be so important he waited to tell you now.

"Wait, you don't have to work tomorrow, do you? I swear, the next time I see Roy I'm gonna-"

"No, it's not that. I'm off, don't worry" he quickly assures. "It doesn't have anything to do with work, it's about you and me."

Your brows furrow as you look at him intently.

"Am I going to like where this is heading?" You then ask.

"Yeah, well, I hope so," he answers before taking a deep breath. "Until I met you, I didn't know anything like this was possible for me. A lot of girls thought I was a joke, which wasn't helped by my dad always makin' fun of me, so I really didn't date much after high school. I just focused on becomin' a cop, which wasn't hard, since I was the best shot in the academy. As years went on though, it got pretty lonely and I was startin' to wonder if there was anyone out there for me. Then, one day you showed up and when I walked up to your window and looked inside, I got this feeling, like, it was fate."

"So, love at first sight on a traffic stop?" You ask with a smile and he nods.

"Yeah, guess it was, because after that I always wanted to be near ya," he smiles, in return, gently taking your hands.

"I guess I was pretty smitten when I first saw you, too," you admit, gazing into his eyes. "You were the cutest cop I'd ever seen."

"I could tell ya liked me right off," he grins, "and after our first date, when I kissed ya for the first time, I didn't want to stop."

You move closer to him, wrapping your legs around his waist.

"I didn't want you to, either," you reply, sultrily.

You slip your hands out of his and drape your arms around his neck.

"Like, right now," he begins, his eyes lowering to your lips. "If I were to kiss ya, I wouldn't be able to stop."

"Which is what I'm counting on," you smile, but he pulls away.

"I can't yet, I still have more to say," he replies.

You nod and he continues, "I love you more than I ever thought I could love someone and I don't want to ever go back to how my life was before you, so..."

He leans back slightly and reaches into his pocket and retrieves the small box. Once you see it, your eyes widen and your arms drop from his shoulders.

"Will you marry me?" He asks while opening the box, revealing a modest diamond ring.

You actually gasp, already making him regret asking.

"I know it's not much, but I-" he adds before you lean forward and press your lips to his.

He doesn't move at first, unsure of what's happening.

"Yes," you breathe as you kiss his plush lips.

You repeat the word a few more times and his brain finally registers it. He then excitedly reciprocates your kiss. You both get so caught up in each other, temporarily forgetting what led to this impromptu makeout session.

"So," he pants, pressing his forehead to yours, "you really wanna marry me?"

"I do, is that so hard for you to believe?"

"Kinda, when you're like the girl of my dreams..." he answers

"Who knew you could be so sweet?" You ask with a laugh. "I think you need to make it official, though."

You pull away slightly and present your left hand. A lovesick smile spreads across his lips as he takes the ring from the box. He slips it onto your finger and is relieved when it fits perfectly.

"I love it," you say, holding up your hand. "And I love you."

"I love you, too," he begins, with a sly smile. "Now, wrap your legs around me again so I can finally take ya to bed."

You smile in return, moving closer and tightening your legs around him. He then lifts you with ease and carries you to the bedroom.

He then spends the rest of the night showing how much he loves you, until you both collapse in each other's arms, covered in hickies and sweat.

As he drifts off to sleep, a feeling of calm settles over him, for the first time. His fears of rejection seem so silly now when you're laying in his arms, so sweet and serene. He should've known all along that you'd never hurt him like that. He sighs contently before nuzzling his face into your neck.

After so many years of emptiness, he's finally found a place where he belongs and the love he's craved all his life.

[incorrectbatfam]

I think you missed one member of Rob's crew. Their friend Jason Todd who comes round every so often with pizza and is actually rich or something.

A new neighbor moved in across the hall.

Rob didn't think much of it. People came in and out all the time. Traveling workers, runaway kids, aimless drifters. Half the tenants were squatters at any given time yet here he was paying rent like a total sucker.

He spat into the sink and rinsed. In the chipped mirror cabinet, he inspected himself. His rust-colored stubble was coming in, but not so quickly that he needed to shave today. He shrugged and threw on a clean shirt.

In the living room—if he could call it that, since it practically overlapped the kitchen—Milo entertained the kids with a mobile game while Gene was reading an Edgar Allen Poe book falling apart at the spine. They were the only other permanent residents besides the Steeler family. The rest of the crew came in and out as they pleased.

Rob said, "Kids, did you eat breakfast yet?"

The two six-year-olds nodded. The fifteen-year-old gave an affirmative grunt, not taking his eyes off the screen.

"What'd you have?" Rob asked.

"Donuts!" answered Gunner.

He raised an eyebrow. "Donuts?"

"Jay from across the hall brought them," said Jackie. "He also gave us these special donut hats. Look!"

Paper crinkled as she unfolded a Krispy Kreme hat and put it on top of her frizzy hair.

"I see." He nodded.

"Don't worry, I tested it first," Gene said.

"Thanks."

As Rob poured his morning coffee, he glanced at the box of a dozen donuts. A few of them were missing, naturally, but there was still a wide range of flavors. Next to it was an unfinished thank you card from Jackie, presumably before she got distracted.

Normally, he wouldn't think twice about the neighbors. But this one—this Jay who wouldn't even tell them his last name—had been on Rob's mind since the first "anonymous" free pizza delivery a week ago. Of course, with online ordering there was always a digital footprint, which Mac tracked to the apartment across the hall. After that, there was the "anonymous" Chinese takeout.

Then, Jay started talking to them and it was the standard neighborly conversations down by the mail room. When he asked Rob what he did for a living, Rob answered vaguely that he was freelancing. Gene was unemployed and he could outright say it. Jay also asked the kids what they wanted for the upcoming holidays when the complex residents were setting up the Christmas tree. Jackie wanted a pony and Gunner wanted a monster truck, and for a moment it seemed like Jay was in serious consideration.

Still, Jay was a stranger. As the encounters continued, it became an unspoken rule that either Rob or Gene be with the kids when the young man was around. One could never be too cautious in Gotham.

Rob finished his coffee and debated taking a donut, but ultimately decided against it. He grabbed his jacket, keys, and pack of cigarettes, telling Milo and the kids (mostly Milo) not to make a mess in the ten minutes he would be gone.

He didn't like smoking on the balcony. It was too close to the children and he didn't want them to get sick. Worse, he didn't want them to pick up the same dirty habit that he only got hooked on because he was a dumb kid that didn't know any better.

He trekked four floors down only to find, lo and behold, he wasn't alone.

A cigarette hung from Jay's fingers as he leaned against the brick wall at the entryway. "'Sup."

Rob acknowledged him with a short nod before lighting his own.

Rob glanced at Jay. It wasn't his first time observing but he always liked to note the subtle changes. The young man—about a decade younger than Rob—sported only a red sweatshirt and grease-stained jeans despite the cold. Since last time, Jay had gained a bruise on his cheek and a cut on his forehead just under his white streak. Rob didn't know what his neighbor did for a living other than it left him with a different mottling of injuries every week.

Jay spoke. "Ever heard of third-hand smoke?"

Rob. "What's that?"

"Firsthand is what we're doing right now, basically inhaling these cancer sticks. Secondhand would be if someone was standing close to us while we do it. Thirdhand smoke is the smell left on you after you go back inside and it's potentially harmful," he said. "You have kids, right?"

"The hell kind of question is that? You've met then."

"I'm just saying, you might wanna consider stopping by the laundry before you go back up."

"Fantastic. Another way I'm a shit dad." Rob grunted and took a drag.

Jay flicked some ashes off. "I know a think or two about shit fathers and the fact that you're worried about being one means you're on the right track."

"How can I be a good dad when I can't even provide them breakfast?"

"I asked your older kid and he said it was fine."

"Milo isn't mine and he's not the one in charge. Next time, take it up with me."

"Duly noted."

Rob took another long drag and ran his fingers through his hair, feeling the past two days' worth of residue from not washing. It caked under his nails like week-old bacon grease on unwashed dishes. It was disgusting. He was disgusting. All of him.

The sleeping around. The accidental pregnancy with a woman he barely knew. The fights. Him throwing her out into a rainstorm. Becoming a widower before he turned thirty with two kids who will never remember her. The backbreaking jobs. Not being good enough to not be laid off. The sketchy investment and losing nearly everything. The sneaking, the breaking, the taking.

And the excuses. All the ways he convinced himself he was in the right.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Jay asked.

"I doubt it's worth a even penny," Rob answered. "I've just been wondering lately what my kids will remember me as when they get older. The business I'm in doesn't have a good reputation and I don't want that to be the first thing that comes to mind when they think of me—someone who only takes. I dunno why I'm telling you all this."

"Hey, it's a valid concern. The work I do also leaves me with those types of questions."

"What do you do?" he asked.

"A little bit of everything," Jay replied vaguely. "But back to what I was saying: your kids aren't gonna remember your day job. But I know they'll remember you putting them on your shoulders to hang the tinsel last weekend."

"I admit, you got a point." Rob flattened the cigarette butt under his boot before tossing it in the nearly trash can. "Anyway, thanks for co-hosting my morning pity party, but I have some errands to run. Starting with laundry."

Jay smiled. "I'll see you around."

"Hopefully," he said, smiling back.

There was something familiar about his neighbor, but Rob couldn't put his finger on it.

Ah, well. At least this one came with free food. Rob would be an idiot if he didn't take a donut while the washing machine wrung the smoke out his clothes.

[redrose10]

Here is chapter 2! Chapter 3 will come out in a few days. Comments are appreciated and inbox is also open. Merry Christmas to all who celebrate!

Yoongi X Female Reader. CEO/Arranged Marriage AU

Summary: You were selected to marry the wayward CEO/Billionaire/Heir, Min Yoongi. You went into it with an open mind and heart determined to try and make it work. Yoongi on the other hand had no intention of ever letting you in let alone allowing himself to fall in love with you. Slowly you start to associate the smell of cinnamon and vanilla with the feelings of hurt and sorrow.

Word Count: 1,914

Warnings: (May get updated as chapters progress): Arranged marriage, cheating/infidelity, hints of smut (Probably won’t get very explicit but we’ll see how it goes), Sexual Assault, Brief mentions of death, Reader grew up an orphan, General Angst, Swearing

After getting home from signing the contract with Yoongi you started to worry that you had just thrown away the rest of your life to some man who couldn’t even look at you without turning his lips up in disgust which lead to a panic attack. Thankfully you were staying at Jimins and he was there to help you work through it reminding you that this was for the best and in the end it would all work out. You were hesitant but at this point there was no turning back anyways as you’d already signed your name. So you and Jimin decided to drown your sorrows in pizza and chocolate ice cream instead.

Waking up the next morning you felt like you got hit by a truck. Your body was sore and you could tell your face was swollen and raw from all of the crying. Wanting nothing more than to just stay in bed wrapped up in all the blankets, you purposely ignored the insistent knocking coming from the front door. When you realized that this person was not going to go away you got up throwing on an old sweatshirt and made your way to answer it. When you swung it open ready to snap at whoever couldn’t take the hint you were greeted with the same smell from the day before. Cinnamon and vanilla. Unfortunately the man standing infront of you did not match the same warm and comforting scent that he presented. He looked you up and down with one eyebrow raised, “So that’s what you decided to wear on our first date? I knew you weren’t much of a fashionista but I expected for you to at least have pants on.” Welcoming him in before shaking your head, “What date?” Yoongi pinched the bridge of his nose clearly irritated. “I texted you last night letting you know that my parents set up a reservation for us to have lunch and get to know each other. I had assumed you got the message or is reading not something you’ve mastered yet?” You bit your lip trying to stop it from shaking so you could hold back the tears threatening to spill. You didn’t understand why he had to be so mean to you. Yes this wasn’t ideal but you were willing to try and make it work or at the very least act civil. Why couldn’t he? It’s was all for his benefit anyways.

Yoongi noticed your tears and suddenly had a strange feeling course through his body. Was it guilt, regret, sadness? Either way he didn’t like it. No way was he going to let you chip away at his walls he worked so hard to put up. “Hurry up and change Y/N. I’m not going to be seen in public with you dressed like that.”, he said with a flick of his wrist shooing you away.

You quickly wiped away at the tears that were breaking through the dam as you made your way back to the spare bedroom. Digging through your clothes you knew you had nothing that would be up to Yoongi’s standards so you decided on a dark red sweater dress paired with black tights and black boots as it was starting to finally cool down in the city. You threw on some light make up and put your hair in a quick messy bun using a ribbon to tie a bow to add a simple accent. Grabbing your purse you took one final look in the mirror. You chuckled to yourself at your appearance and braced yourself for whatever snarky remark Yoongi was going to make about you.

Walking out to the living room you found him sitting on the couch scrolling through his phone. You put on your best neutral face before making your presence known and announcing you were ready. Yoongi’s head lifted up and looked you up and down. You waited for his remark but he said nothing. Instead pushing past you to the front door holding it open and gesturing for you to lead the way.

The drive to the restaurant was surprisingly not as awkward as you had imagined. The restaurant, unsurprisingly, was extravagant and luxurious. The host sat the two of you at a private table towards the back corner and handed each of you a menu. Yoongi ordered the most expensive steak they had and paired it with a glass of whiskey. You on the other hand decided to go a more simple route and went with a chicken dish and a lemonade.

Yoongi sat looking at his phone, answering the occasional text message or email but ignoring your presence entirely.

“I thought your parents said we were supposed to get to know each other.”, you asked almost playfully.

You watched him roll his eyes at your statement but he put down his phone and gestured for you to continue.

Honestly you weren’t expecting that reaction so you didn’t know where to begin.

“Umm okay. What is your favorite color?”

He chuckled, “Don’t have one. I’m not a child.”

Alright, this will we harder than you thought. “What is your favorite thing to drink?”

He simply raises his glass of whiskey towards you and you nod while internally scolding yourself for such a stupid question.

You continue, “Do you have any hobbies or interests?”

“Well I like making and spending money, drinking whiskey, and women.”

Nodding your head in acceptance you’re pretty stumped on how to proceed at this point. “Anything you’d like to ask me?”, you questioned. “Nope.”, he said before taking a sip of his whiskey and returning back to his phone.

Thankfully the waiter returned placing your meals in front of you and the rest of the meal was spent in silence. You offered to pay for your lunch but Yoongi waved you off handing his card to the waiter. The ride back to Jimins was also silent and somehow more awkward than earlier and you couldn’t wait to get out of his car. The car had barely come to a stop before you were grabbing your belongings and reaching for the door handle.

“Thank you for lunch. It was very nice.”, you tried to be positive. He gave you a nod before turning his eyes back to the road. Just before you shut the door you heard your name whispered so you turned around and Yoongi was staring at you. “My assistant will contact you within the next week to set up a day for you to go over your selections for the wedding. Money is not an issue so you can pick whatever you want.”

You gave a small smile and shut the door watching as he sped off like he couldn’t get away from you quick enough.

The following day the announcement was made that Yoongi was set to be married. Social media sites were a mess trying to find out any information they could about the lucky woman that stole the heart of one of the worlds most eligible bachelors. Somehow they were able to find out most of your life story and plastered it all over their websites much to your dismay. It seemed like everything was working according to the plan. Most articles painted Yoongi to be the good hearted CEO that was turning his life around after falling in love with the a sweet foreigner who grew up as an orphan and was now set to marry a billionaire. One article even called you ‘A Real Life Cinderella’ which made you double over in laughter. If they only knew how your future husband was the farthest thing from a prince charming. You tossed your phone on the bed not wanting to read any more.

Just as he had said would happen Yoongi’s assistant contacted you about the wedding and that set off a whirlwind of events. The next two weeks were spent planning a wedding that you were trying your hardest to be excited for. Yoongi of course wanted no part of it so everything was on you. You left what you could up to the wedding planner. It didn’t even really feel like your wedding at this point so you didn’t feel the need to be apart of every decision anyways. Your only request being that the wedding flowers be Blue Hydrangeas which thankfully fit in with the theme that was planned.

The day of your wedding you slipped into the gown that was chosen for you. A beautiful one of a kind Valentino gown. The silhouette fit you perfectly with a train that was just long enough to be dramatic but not obnoxious. The lace detail along with the beading must’ve taken hours. The very low cut back made you feel beautiful and sexy. You’re sure the Mins had to pay extra to have it made in such short notice.

Hearing the door click shut you smiled when you turned around and saw Jimin walking over arms out ready to embrace you in a hug. “Wow Y/N, you look beautiful.” “Thank you Jimin. I guess a dress that costs more than a car can make anyone look good.”

He playfully shoved your shoulder. “Oh before I forget, Yoongi wanted me to give this to you.” Reaching for the black velvet box you gasped looking down at the two diamond earrings staring back at you. “Wow your man has good taste.”, Jimin chuckled. You softly scoffed to yourself while adding the earrings to your look. You figured Yoongi probably just had his assistant go out and buy the most expensive pair he could find. No way did Min Yoongi put thought and effort into a gift like this.

Standing behind the large double doors staring down at the bouquet in your hand you started questioning everything. You always believed in true love. Ever since you were a little girl you would imagine your own wedding. Never did you think you’d be in an arranged marriage and to someone who despises you so deeply.

Feeling someone squeeze your hand you looked up and saw Jimin giving you a comforting smile. You were thankful that he was there to walk you down the aisle. The music started as the double doors were swung open giving everyone the first look at the bride. Taking a deep breath you slowly walked down the aisle too afraid to make eye contact with Yoongi. You feared that if you saw him look down at you that you would just lose it and ruin your very expensive and time consuming makeup with tears.

Once at the alter you gave Jimin a kiss on the cheek and watched him walk off to his designated spot. Unfortunately, you could no longer avoid looking at Yoongi. But when you looked up it was worse than you could’ve imagined. Instead of looking down at you with disgust he wasn’t even looking at you at all. His eyes were fixated off to the side at something or someone in the audience. Following his direction you saw the cause of this distraction. A young beautiful blond woman wearing a dress that you would consider more appropriate for a club than a wedding. She was shyly giving him a discreet wave. Softly you whispered in shock to yourself getting the attention of your future husband who now looked back at you noticing the tears threatening to spill from your eyes and for some reason he almost felt guilty. Almost.

[schlattsdoll]

hi rikki!!!! some thoughts rattling around in my brain at 1:19 am:

fratboy!tedschlatt over winter break????

they’d make a groupchat with the three of you in it because how could they stay without talking to you for two weeks? ted would get you something sentimental and nice like jewelry and schlatt would get you three matching hoodies (he’d also send you one of his hoodies that smelled like him, labeled “don’t tell ted”, knowing the three of you made a bet about who could simp the least). but imagine the CHAOS when you send them a picture of you wearing the new hoodie and jewelry on christmas day.

you: *sent a picture*

schlatt: damn doll, show me what’s under that sweatshirt

ted: schlatt shut up, it’s my turn today

schlatt: you shut the fuck up, she’s my christmas present

ted: YOU shut the fuck up, i have her today

schlatt: no the fuck you dont???

you: why am i here again??

them not being able to help themselves when you surprise them at the frat house wearing their christmas presents.

AHHH i <3 tedschlatt

yours truly,

- 🤭 anon

ANNA YOUR BRAIN

sending a selfie saying “thank you for my beautiful gifts my boys. i love you both so so much <3” and them going crazy, especially schlatt who is a horndog at all times

them fighting over you and you sit there laughing at everything, until you get an idea. you knew both of them stayed at the frat house this past holiday season so it wasn’t empty so you made the drive up to the college and were very happy to see that ted’s truck was missing from the parking lot. you ran into the house using the spare key they left with you and sat down under the tree

the boys came back with target and old navy bags, they’d bought junk snacks and matching pajamas for the three of you. schlatt dropped one of the bags and saw you scrolling your phone under the tree. “ted, you see her too right?” “jay you’re crazy there’s no way sh-” he stopped short when he saw you in the hoodie schlatt bought for you all and the necklace with their birthstones on it, “hi babies!”

they fought over who got to hug you first before you stood up and hugged them both at the same time. “lost the bet, i missed my boys too much.” you smiled up at them. ted kissed your forehead while schlatt went for your cheek

the three of you changed into your matching pajamas and hoodies and cuddled up on ted’s bed watching christmas movies. “best present ever doll.” “absolutely love.”

[codename-adler]

first snowstorm of the winter here in Montréal, Canada so…

Foxes vs. the great white shitstorm

Kevin: PTSD from the-skiing-accident-that-never-was bc that’s how far his trauma goes BUT will brave the snow if accompanied bc Exy is an interior sport thank u mom for that one. chances are he also probably bunkered down at the Foxhole court beforehand so he wouldn’t have to witness a single snowflake nor be separated from his one true love. bunker supplies include a shit ton of OJ bc the man is fighting away the flus and the colds like it’s The Plague Part II: 1347.

Matt: has to be stopped by Dan, once again, from buying a snow plow to fix in front of his truck. like every place where winter = snow, the PSU campus is severely unprepared for the onslaught, it’s like they’ve never seen this shit before and if I could just help out the community that way it would be a win-win for everybody Dan don’t you get it? it’s still a no, so Matt proceeds with unleashing his energy outside, alone, grumbling and building snowmen (and snowphalluses once Nicky joins in)

Nicky: DECKS THE HALLS EVERY-FUCKING-WHERE, FA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA. it’s tradition for him to wait until the first snowfall before decorating for Christmas, as a compromise (if it truly were up to him, 1st of November would be Christmas Tree Day, but he made a deal with the twins who, despite despising their birthday, would absolutely not have Jingle Bells and and holly on November 4th). the thing with Nicky is, he exhausts himself very, very fast and loses focus/productivity in the blink of an eye, so all you see is a path of garlands and pine needles leading to a zoned out Nicky munching on frootloops in a beanbag. the Foxes will have to finish what he started.

Allison: during daytime? fab as ever, hyped to get out her winter outfits and order another 3k of winter gear, boots, scarves, gloves etc. for herself. then she shops some more for the Foxes, some genuine bougie shit, some wtf shit to make fun of this season's chosen victims (see: Kevin always, a little bit Neil to chase away the nightmare of the past year, and this year's winners: Dan and Aaron). but once nighttime hits? it's war time. it's UGLY time. thermo one-piece suit, the old 3XL PSU Foxes men's sweatshirt Seth bought himself in his first year, tight braid shoved under a tight camo sports balaclava, spy goggles slapped on her naked-bar-fake-lashes face, heavy duty boots, and snowballs. yes, snowballs. starting this year, she's initiating the Yearly Foxes Snowball War. she's got her Santa bag ready and full of compact snowballs as she goes down the hall, breaking and entering every Fox dorm and obliterating them unprovoked. queen behavior. conquering among the squeals of Matt Aaron Kevin the vanquished!

Renee: hater mode activated. it's only for the first snow, it's only for one day, but it's brutal. her smile is tight, her socks are fucking wet by noon and she's had it. the little gremlin dives under a pile yay-high of blankets, destroying one or two of her advent calendars and eating 25-50 pieces of chocolate to sate her ire. she's the only one safe from Allison's assault, she's only asked if she'd like to join in the snowball fight instead, which is a hard no from Renee. next year, though, Allison's provided her with the same tech-gear and she's ready to unleash her anger on her unsuspecting teammates. but only after the chocolates.

Dan: nope. nope nope nope. she's so cold. so cold. she's craving warmth wherever she can, making the Foxes jump when she shoves her iced hands or feet into them. she's bundled up in layers upon layers of clothes. she's drinking coffee and tea by the gallon. she's scrambling for every lip balm she can get her hands on. she's making soup, and soup, and more soup. spicy ramen, three beans, lipton, chicken cream, veggie mix. she's got 2 thermos at all times, one hot drink, one hot soup. soup mama.

Aaron: first victim of cold season. if there's a snowflake, Aaron's got snot. no amount of ginger shots, garlic nostrils, citrus slices or soup can prevent the inevitable. man down by sunset, congested af, broody and pitiful. everybody makes fun of him, most of all Neil. look at the hot shot doctor bested by a lil cough-cough. the one year he didn't get sick so early, he had to get the new flu shot bc he's premed. needless to say, man down again.

Neil: ultimate x-games galore, here he comes! for the first time in his life, he's allowed to indulge, and try out every winter sport under the sun. Exy's still his wife, but man is snowboard up there with snowshoes-running and ice-skating and sledding. he's monstrously good at hockey, to Kevin's great disappointment. he thinks he'd have quite liked being a hockey player hadn't it been for Exy. and the mafia. anyways, he's unstoppable, he's exhausting, he's everything. he's Barbie.

Andrew: tiny emo beef man is fucking-A-ready. winter tires ON, tire chains ON, windshield cover ON, broom and shovels ACQUIRED, hot chocolate cupboard FULL, cleated boots SHARPENED, hotshots warmers STACKED. and then he just- doesn't move. not one iota. absolute pillow princess without any fucking involved. that man is not getting out there, despite the Foxes' wailings of needing a ride, needing groceries, needing a hand. he is ready, doesn't mean he's involved. c'mon, the dude's got multiple plans for a zombie apocalypse, you think a little snow's gonna stop him? yes, actually.

and that's all folks... for now. fuck /yeah/ snow!

[customizedstore]

Christmas Sweatshirt, 2024 Merry Christmas, Merry Christmas T-shirt, Oh Deer T-shirt, Xmas T-shirt

[horny4hetfield]

Rockies Christmas - Day 13

Warnings: Fluff, Gifting First Responders, Shameless Product Placement

Guide: CBF = Cali’s Boyfriend / CGF = Castor’s Girlfriend / MBF = Marcella’s Boyfriend {I didn’t want to give them names}

I blink awake.  Stretching and yawning, I roll to my side.  James is still sound asleep.  I slip from bed, grab yoga pants, a baggy sweatshirt and go use the toilet while getting dressed.  I wince as I flush the toilet.  I don’t want to wake James.  Checking on him, he shifts, snorfels softly, then sighs and sags back to sleep.  I quickly leave our room. 

Getting into the kitchen, there stands Cali staring into the open fridge.  “You ok?”

“Now I’m starving.”  She lets the door shut.  “I couldn’t eat anything a few days ago.  Now I can’t get enough.”

Moving her to a barstool, “What are you craving?”

“Everything.”

Smiling gently at her, “I mean, are you craving sweets?  Proteins?  Carbs?”

She stops and thinks moment.  “Proteins.”

Nodding, “Ok.  Breakfast burrito it is.”  I pull out what I need from the fridge.  As I start the onions grilling in the skillet, “Would you please start the coffee maker?”

“Sure.  Why?”

“I give it five minutes and your Dad will be down here” I grin at Cali.  It only takes a short time for the onions to grill.  I move them off the burner and start a second skillet heating.  This one I dump the beaten eggs into, scrambling them with a wooden spatula.  Looking at the clock, “Three.  Two.  One.”

“I smell onions” comes James’ voice yawning.

“Morning Dad” Cali smiles.

James gives her a hug, “You look better.  You have some color in your cheeks.”

“I can eat without barfing every ten minutes.”

“That’s good news” James smiles.  “Means that you’ll be starving from this point on.”  He moves to the coffee pot and makes our mugs.

“Was Mom that way?”

“Morning sick?” James asks.  Cali nods.  “A little with each of you.  But not too bad.”  James sets our mugs on the kitchen table.

I can see the concern in Calis’ eyes, “Cali, everyone is different.  I worked with a pair of twins.  Sasha couldn’t keep anything down for about two months.  Nadine never got morning sick at all.”  Cali’s eyebrows knit together.  “Even twins have certain wiring that’s different.  And there’s nothing wrong with that.  It’s just how we are.” 

I pull the pan of eggs off the heat and shred some of the roast beef.  I pull out and zap for a few seconds three large tortillas.  Putting them each on their own plate, I quickly get one burrito made, handing it to James.  His eyes light up.  “What do you want on yours?”  Cali’s burrito ends up being very close to her Dad’s.  Just no hot sauce.  I put mine together.  The three of us sit at the kitchen table happily eating our breakfast when the others stumble in.

“Oh wow!  Breakfast burritos!” Castor grins.

“Well, the cook has sat” James puts a hand on my shoulder keeping me in my seat.  “The kitchen is now self-serve.”

Nodding, “Fair enough” Castor grins.

Quickly, all eight of us are seated around the table with our burritos in various stages of consumption. 

CBF speaks up, “James, what New Year traditions do you have?”

James leans back in his chair, “I usually take gift cards to the first responders.  Why?”

“What about meal?”

“Whatever is leftover in the fridge.”  James gives CBF a look, “Why?”

“I’d like to make Jambalaya.”

James looks at me.  I motion, “There’s the kitchen.”

Cali grins.  “We will need to make a trip to the store.”

“We can use the van” CGF offers.

James looks out the window.  It’s snowing lightly.  “Naw.  We’ll take the truck.  Let’s make a trip to the store.”

Castor looks out the window, “Truck it is!”

The kids clean up the breakfast dishes.  Within the hour, we are all dressed and piled into the truck.  I decide to let James drive.  It wouldn’t be cool for the megarockgodsuperstar to climb out of the passenger side of his own truck.  Even if he still looks like he got slapped in the face with his own seven hundred pound snowmobile.  The first stop is a SB.  James pulls on a pair of sunglasses.  The bruising can still be seen, but the worst of it is hidden.  We all pile out. 

Walking in the store, the manager turns.  “Hey James!”

“Hi Chris.”

“Brought the whole fam damily this time, huh?”

James smiles, “We’re making a day of it.”

“The usual?” as Chris goes to a register and signs in.

“Yes, please.”

“Ok, that’s one tall Pike Place roast and 50 cards at ten dollars each.”

“Do you already have those loaded?”  Chris nods.  “Would you be mad if I have a few more loaded?”

“Not at all.”

James turns to us, “Each of you pick out five cards.”

The kids go to the card racks.  There are giggles and chatter among them as they make their selections.

James leans into me, “You too” and he kisses my temple.  I find a cute card at the bottom of the rack and pull out five.

The cards all get placed on the counter.  “This will take a minute, James.”

“No worries.”  Looking to us, “You all good on coffee?”

“A grande blond vanilla latte, add two pumps caramel, please” I ask.  I get a look from James.  “What?”

“You always manage to surprise me with something” as he pulls me into a loose hug, his hands clasped behind my back.  I rest my hands on his chest.

The kids each place a drink order and Chris rings up the total.  James releases me gently, pulling out his wallet.  “The math isn’t adding up, Chris.”

“The coffees are on the house today” Chris grins.

“Thanks, that’s very kind.”

“Hey, I know where these cards are going.  I wish I could just give these to you, but then they wouldn’t work” as he hands the new cards to James.  “Do you want the envelopes?”

“Yes, please” as James ponies up his credit card.  He hands me the new gift cards.

Chris finishes with the register – handing James a rather long receipt which just gets passed to me – and he disappears into the back.  He comes back holding a small box.  “Here they are.”

“Thanks again Chris” James shakes hands.

“My pleasure!”

We collect our coffees and James sits at a table – which takes me off guard.  From an inside pocket of his coat, James pulls out a sharpie.  The next 45 minutes are spent with James putting his JH mark – he stopped signing his full name years ago – on each card with the year.  The rest of us blow on the cards to dry the ink and put the card into an envelope.  There’s chatter among us about how we’ve celebrated New Years’ Eve in years past.

“Kira, have you ever seen the ball drop?” CGF wants to know.

“On TV.”

Castor looks at me, “You’ve never been there in person?”

I look at Castor, “I’m 5 foot 2.  I would be crushed.”  He grins.  “There’s easily a million people crammed into the Square.” 

Castor’s eyes squint.  “Think Moscow.  I know you’ve seen the footage” James says.

There’s a quiet “woah” from the kids.

“And since 9/11, they have tightened up security to the point where there are no in/out’s allowed.”

Marcella’s eyebrows knit together, “In/outs?”

“You can’t leave to go get food or use the bathroom and come back.”

“Nope.  Not going now” CGF says.

Hiking a thumb at James, “Get your Dad to play it.  That’s the only way I’ll go in person” I grin at him.

“Nope.  Not playing there or Superbowl.”

Castor leans across the table his hands outstretched towards James, “C’mon Dad!  You guys would kill a Superbowl halftime!”  James just shakes his head, taking a drink from his coffee.  “But you did the Raiders” Castor whines slightly.

“We played the parking lot.  Before a Playoff game.  On a flatbed trailer” James looks at his son.  “We didn’t play the game” he grins.  “And I know why you want us to play Superbowl.  You don’t want to buy those tickets!” James gives Castor a wink and grin.

Castor puts his head on the table between his outstretched arms, “They are soooo expensive!” this time he did whine.

Patting his sons’ hands, “Perhaps one day, you will play half time and I will be the one asking you for tickets” James deadpans.  Castor raises his head and bursts out laughing, which causes the rest of us to laugh.

The gift cards are all collected and put into the box.  Which James hands to me.  Castor collects the sharpie.  We climb into the truck.  The cards are taken to the firehouses, the Hospital Emergency Room and Police station, where James shakes the hands of everyone on duty that shift, leaving cards for those not on duty today.  He begs off on selfies – this year.  “Let me recover from being smacked upside the head” he nods in my direction grinning.  I just shrug my shoulders and chuckle. 

One paramedic took it seriously.  “I can’t swing much less pick up a snowmobile” I snark.

“Yeah, I took a tumble with my machine” he pulls his glasses down a little.

“Ouch!” is the general response.

“You should have seen him a week ago” MBF adds.

As we pile back into the truck, “James, there’s twelve cards left.”

“I know.  Those are going to the airport” he just gently grabs my thigh.

We pull up to the chopper hanger and all tumble out.  “Hey Jacobs!” James calls out, pulling off the sunglasses.

“Well look what the cat dragged in!  You’re looking good James!”

“And I have you to thank for that.”  James gives the chopper pilot a hug.

“Hey, just doing what I do” Jacobs says matter of factly.

“Well, these are for you and your team.  It’s not much.  But they are signed.”  James hands over the cards.  “And you and your team will be on the list for any show you want.”

Jacobs shakes James’ hand, “That is above and beyond, but greatly appreciated!”

“Once this snow melts, I’ll need to hire you to get my machine out of that field.”

“And straight to the junk yard” Jacobs chuckles.

James’ eyebrows knit together, “You’re the second one to say that.  Is it really that bad?”

“James” Jacobs puts a hand on James’ shoulder, “I have seen what you have done with cars.”  Shaking his head, “But this is beyond even your skills in the garage.”  James just heaves a sigh.  “The cowling is completely smashed up, the frame is probably bent – if not cracked, the handlebars are through the engine cover, probably skewered the engine and the track is in about three pieces.”  He looks James in the eye, “You shouldn’t have survived.”  I can see that James is shaken by this information and I gently rest a hand on his lower back. 

“I shouldn’t have survived the fire.  I shouldn’t have survived the skidoo.  Now this.”

“Hey Dad, I know you are a Leo.  But will you leave the last few lives alone?” Cali smiles at James, rubbing her belly.

Grinning, James pats the growing bump, “I’ll try” he smiles at his oldest child.  Jacobs gives James a look.  Smiling like a fool, “Cali is making me a Grandpa!”

“Well Congratulations!  Old man!” Jacobs slaps James’ shoulder.  The phone in the office rings and is answered.  “I should probably see what that’s about.”  He shakes James’ hand again, “We’ll get your machine when the snows melt.  I’ve already told BML about it, so they know it’s there.  Happy New Year you lucky bastard!”

“Happy New Year to you, you freaking sky jockey!”

Pointing at James as he heads into the office, “You can do better!”

Waving, “I will next time!” James smiles.

Again, we stuff ourselves into the truck.  As we go to enter the freeway, something makes me grab James’ arm. Hard.  He stops and looks at me.  I shiver.  He gives me a concerned look just as a motorcycle comes screaming between us and the truck in the next lane over, using the gore point to pass.  The biker almost lost it in the slush there but managed to stay upright and punched it even harder.

“That guy had to be doing 80” Castor says quietly from the back seat.

“Closer to 100” James states.  He pats my hand, then checking traffic again, pulls us on to the freeway.  We are silent for a time.  “So, we need the grocery store, yes?” James asks the backset.

“The one with the really good andouille sausages, please Dad” Cali says from her boyfriend’s lap.

I can see James thinking, “Ok.  I remember where that one is.”

It takes a few minutes to get there.  With the size of his truck, James parks it towards the back of the lot.  I swear we look like a clown car as we tumble out.  CGF does almost sits down in the slush, but Castor and MBF make the grab for the save.  It’s a smaller store with a good specialty meat counter.  CBF’s eyes light up.  I grab a cart and wander the store with the others.  CBF catches up to us with his parcel from the meat department.  He dashes around collecting the other things that he needs, smiling. 

Pulling his daughter to his side, “Does he always shop like this?”

Cali grins, “He’s a lot like you.  He likes to cook” she side hugs her Dad.

“Why Jambalaya?”

“He’s from New Orleans.”

Nodding, “So we’ll get the good Jambalaya then” James wiggles his eyebrows.

As CBF drops a bag of rice into the cart, he kisses his fingers like a French chef, “The best!”

The store has a selection of cookware, CBF stops.  “What is the biggest pan you have?”

James pats CBF on the shoulder “Pick out whatever you need.  That way it will be here when you come back.”  CBF eyes open wide.  Cali motions for him to pick out what he needs, rubbing her belly.

I backtrack to a previous aisle, find what I’m looking for and catch up to the little hoard around the cart.

At check out, I beat James to pulling out a credit card.  Giving him a goofy grin, he wraps his arms around me, putting his lips next to my ear, “Gonna be like that, huh?” kissing my ear.  I just nod leaning into his embrace.

As things are bagged up, I collect the lotion I’d selected.  I hand it to Cali, “You are going to rub your belly raw.  Use this.”  She just laughs but takes the bottle.

The purchases are piled into the bed of the truck and the kids strategically pile into the back seat.  James steps in after making sure that I have clambered into the passenger seat.  “Anyone need anything else?” James asks.

“Nope.”  “All good.”  “Can’t think of anything.”  Comes from the back seat.

James looks at me.  I smile at him.  I can tell that he’s tired.  He smiles at me and – checking the surroundings – backs the truck out of the spot.  Once we get home, he stops outside the garage to let the back seat out, before putting the truck into the garage.

Marcella pats her Dad’s back, “We got this Dad.”  She gives me a smile.  I can tell that she too sees that he’s tired.

I hold my hand out to him.  James tosses the key fob to her, takes my hand letting me guide him to our room.  I pull his clothes from his body creating a small pile of our clothes at the foot of the bed.  James makes a trip to the bathroom.  Pulling the covers back, I pull off my clothes and climb in.  When James returns, I hold my arms out to him.  He slides into the sheets, wrapping me in his arms, resting his head on my shoulder, his leg draping up over my hips.  I flip the covers over us.  I caress his hair gently with my fingers.  I feel his body sag into slumber.  I lay awake for a time just watching him sleep.  His eyelashes and eyebrows still showing hints of the blonde he used to be.  His cheeks bearing the slight scarring from the acne he’d had as a kid.  He shifts some in his sleep, rubbing his nose and mustache into my boob.  I kiss his hairline.  Resting my hand on his tattoo laced arm, my cheek on the top of his head.  I don’t remember my eyes closing.

I wake as James stretches.  He looks up at me.  The bruising on his face going into the yellow-green stage.  I kiss him between the eyebrows.  “Sleep good?” I almost whisper.

“Yeah.  Didn’t realize how tired I was.”

My hand rubs his arm, “Well, gee.  It’s not like you haven’t been through a lot in the last ten days or so” rolling my eyes overdramatically at him.

He grabs my ribs and plants a solid mouth fart between my boobs.  I squeal in laughter.  He blows another making me laugh even harder.  He rests his chin between my boobs.  “I love to hear you laugh.”

Caressing his head, “I love to see you smile.”

He’s closing in on kissing me when “Dad!  Kira!”  His head sinks to my chest.  “Dinner!”

“Did we just get called to dinner by the kids … like we’re the kids?” I ask the top of his head.  His head pops up, his blue eyes twinkling.  He bursts into laughter as he hugs me tightly which makes me laugh.

“C’mon you two!  It’s getting cold!”

“Give us a second!  Geez!” James yells back.  I can hear the laughter from downstairs.  He looks at me, “That was their standard answer back in the day!”

Kicking out of the covers, we climb out of bed.  James helps me tidy the covers.  Grabbing a pair of leggings and a tank top I head into the toilet.  I hear James laughing softly.  After washing, he smacks my ass as he heads to the toilet.  I go back to the closet and pull on a baggy knit sweater.  Wearing a pair of sweatpants and a Motorhead t-shirt, James wraps his arms around me – almost carrying me – down the stairs to the kitchen.

“Took you long enough!” Cali says, hands on her hips.  She’s trying to keep a straight face, but loses that battle when James starts laughing again.

Pulling away gently from James, “Standard answer?”  He can only nod at me.

We are presented with open face roast beef sandwiches and the last of all the vegetables from Christmas dinner.  The surprise is the grilled onions on the sandwiches.  James nods, “Nice touch!”

I insist on helping with the cleanup as the kids had done the cooking.  Once the dishwasher is started, Castor says, “Stranger Things time!”

“We really going to binge the whole show?” James looks at his boy.

“Yes, Dad” Castor nods, “This should become the new tradition!  Besides, there’s a new season being worked on!”

In short order, we’re again piled onto the huge sofa structure in the media room, covered in blankets as another episode is started.  James pulls me a little tighter into his side, kissing my temple.  I rest my head on his chest.

Two episodes later, “I gotta pee” I announce.

“Good idea” MBF says.

The bathrooms are all soon put to use.

As I come back through the kitchen, I grab the tub with the cookies.  James is pulling out some Squeezed to Death cans from the fridge.  “Need to restock these” he grins.  Castor starts the next episode once everyone is again tucked into their blankets.

Three episodes and one bin of cookies later, we call it a night.

As we climb back into bed, James pulls my naked body to his.  I curl around his arm sighing.  His breath warm on the back of my neck.

“I have a question for you.” 

“mmhmm”

“What happened today with the motorcycle.”  I nod slightly.  “Does that happen often?”

I pause a moment, then rotate towards his face.  “Grandmother told me that I could answer questions before they were asked.”  I look into his eyes, seeing nothing but compassion there.  “What happened today.  It’s never happened to me before.”  Goosebumps rise on my arms.

Rubbing my arms and kissing me, “I’m glad it did.  At that speed, he’d’ve come right through the back window.”  That makes me shiver.  James pulls me closer and just holds me, my head tucked under his chin.  My eyes close.  I feel myself sag into his arms as sleep grabs me.

[saltsicklover]

Title: Joy in Shattered Glass

Prompt: Nativity

Written for @sailor-aviator 's Christmas Writing Challenge! You can find the rest of the list HERE

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2700+

Rating: R

Warnings: Swearing, Sexual Themes, Talk of Religion, Hurt and Comfort, Fluff, slight Angst. Established Relationship, Wife Reader nicknamed Dottie.

---

Bob Floyd has gotten used to coming home to find his wife in many, let's say, precarious situations. From trying to hang up art behind the couch on her own, to balancing on the top of a ladder to paint the wall that lines the stairs. His favorite ones involved her on her knees, an occurrence that no longer catches him by surprise anymore. It's not that he is no longer excited to see her that way, peering up through her eyelashes as the tip of her tongue drags impossibly slow over the fullest part of her bottom lip. It's just that, as their relationship has progressed, the scene became less surprising, but no less unexpected. 

The front door swings open a quarter to six, just like it always does on the days he is stuck in the classroom instead of in the air running hops. Frustration has pulled muscles throughout Bob's body tight, his limbs aching as his large ruck falls from his shoulder and onto the floor. 

Though he'd never admit it out loud, today is one of the days he wishes that his lover would have been there to meet him. Positioned their on the softness of the rug, pillow already positioned under her knees. He'd even left his flight suit on, know just how much she enjoys slowly tugging the impossibly long zipper down his body. That thought alone has had him half hard and well past needy since he pulled himself into the cab of his truck a half hour ago. 

Bob's day inside the classroom has felt endless. It's his go around with the new Top Gun students, most of whom don't respect him as a WSO. They've spent the better part of the last week pushing all of his buttons, ragging on everything from his birth control glasses to his accent. They made sure to remind him of his inability to teach pilots with every other snide comment, and now it's Thursday and Bob has just about had it. 

Dottie has had a day of her own, though she'd never complain, not in the slightest. It would be hard to complain when Bob has given her time to live out her dream of being a house wife, even if it's only temporary. Dottie packed up and moved to California at the drop of a hat, really. The moment Bob found out his detachment had been made permanent she had already started packing her bags. Though Bob has been wrapped around her finger for the better part of ten years, Dottie had all but belonged to Bob since their time in high school... well, rival high schools, and would follow that man to the ends of the Earth if it meant that she would get to be there when he got home at the end of the day. 

The pair had met at a football game, stuck out in the snow with too little clothing and not enough seating on the HOME bleachers. Bob had arrived late and been banished to the AWAY side of the field, but what had seemed like a tragedy at the time became the start to their relationship. He was a sweatshirt of forest green in a sea of yellow and burgundy, but with Dottie cuddled up to his side, he found himself liking the color scheme. 

Today, Dottie and Bob share a small home in the middle of a residential community. They are the odd pair out, no children. The moment the detachment became permanent, Dottie packed her things and made a home with Bob in Miramar, just north of their last base and the little house they couldn't stand. This time, however, has been the first time she has struggled to find employment, which has lead to their six week deal. 

For six weeks, Dottie would get to play house wife. Cook, clean, and be a home maker like it was the 1950's again. After all, no one is hiring during the holidays anyway. She had spent the first few weeks just getting their lives in order, her move having taken place a few months ago. There had been boxes stacked around the house and everything had been in desperate need of a deep clean. Bob came home to cooked meals and his wife smiling like he hadn't seen her before. The stress that had been present in her was now gone and it's something Bob could get used to seeing. 

Today, Dottie put the house together for the holidays. The Christmas tree stands in the corner of their small living room, decorated to the nines with reds and golds. The whole thing seems to glitter from all angles, the lights strung around it with expert hands. Dottie had baked cookies and started wrapping presents. The holidays season suddenly alive and well in the Floyd household. 

She had even taken care of setting up the delicate Nativity set on the sturdy table near the front door. That thing had followed the pair around with every move, had seen more of the country than her, in fact, as Bob has had it since he turned 18. Dottie has never know Bob to be religious, nor is she, but that damn Nativity set is erected each year in a well visible place. It's tradition after all. 

When Bob walked in a quarter to six, his heavy bag hitting the floor makes Dottie jump a little. With a furrowed brow, she rounds the corner. Her eyes meet an exasperated looking Bob, his hands already messing through his too neat hair. 

"Hi Bobby," Dottie speaks just above a whisper, padding closer to her husband. 

"Hello sweetheart," The greeting is all too sweet, though she can tell just how out of it her husband is. So, Dottie continues towards her husband. The moment she is within reach, Bob is pulling her body flush against his own, folding her into his arms. Dottie's fingertips graze over the back of his neck and up into his hair, scratching at his scalp. 

"How was your day?" The question is a bit hesitant coming off her lips, but she doesn't stop it. 

"I'm so sick of these damn kids," He huffs into her neck. Her laughter comes easy, from the mix of his breath against her neck and the silliness of the phrase. 

"Bob, they're not much younger than us," 

"Youngest is 25," He mutters with roll of his eyes, "Fuckin' kids," 

"That bad, huh?" 

"Worse," There's a bit of a smile in his tone. His arms snake around her just a little tighter, grounding himself with the feel of her body against his. 

"Anything I can do?" 

"Not unless you can make them actually respect me," The shrug of his shoulders maker Dottie frown. She can't imagine someone not respecting her husband. She knows he may be unassuming, but Robert Floyd is a force to be reckoned with, even if they can't see it. Even if he can't seem to remember. 

"Oh, Bobby, I can think of a few ways," She presses kisses into the plain of his neck, a shudder quickly running through him. His mind is wandering back to the image of his wife on the floor and suddenly he can barely feel the tension in his limbs. 

"What're those, sweetheart?" Hands slip down her body, fingers hooking through her beltloops. 

"First off," The words are punctuated with further presses of her lips to his hot skin, "I was thinking that I could leave behind a few strategically placed hickeys. Something just visible over your collar, something to keep their attention towards the front of the room," 

Hands begin to wander, Bob's chest rising and falling faster as his wife continues speaking.

"Then, you can fuck me in all your favorite places, and we can finally christen this house correctly," There's a little chuckle with her words, but Bob is too busy taking in every touch of her hands against his clothed body. 

"And, if you're feeling really feisty, we can have a repeat of that little incident in Virginia Bea-," The words catch in Dottie's throat as he picks her up without warning. He spins them around before dropping her onto the table near the front door. It isn't until her ass is connecting with the table that she realizes where she's at. The chorus of rolling ceramic and breaking glass make's her freeze. Bob stops quickly after, his eyes searching her worried expression. 

"Oh my god," The color threatens to drain from her face, though her chest is burning. 

"What is it, sweetheart?" He looks from her to the broken glass scattered around the floor, "What broke?" 

"It was your- oh my god," Dottie covers her mouth with her hands, tears quickly welling in her eyes. 

"What was it?" Bob's expression is so soft, even with his eyebrows screwed together in confusion. 

"It was your Nativity set," Dottie's confession is barely audible, so he prompts her again. 

"It was your Nativity set, Bobby, I'm so sorry," It takes Bob a second to realize what she's talking about, and it isn't until she is pushing him back and sliding off of the table that he lays eyes on the set, or what's left of it. 

"You decorated?" He asks, his expression going fully soft. 

"I did," Dottie wipes at a fallen tear, "I wanted to surprise you but I should've warned you, I guess,"

"Oh, sweetheart, it's alright," Bob takes her hand, running his thumb along her knuckles. 

"No it's not Bobby. If I would have warned you this wouldn't have happened. Or maybe if I had been working instead of being at home. If I would have been working then I wouldn't have had the time to set all this up and then you would have been here to help me and then the Nativity set would have been somewhere more safe and it wouldn't have gotten broken. God, Bobby, I am so sorry," Dottie rambles all while Bob listens to her carefully though he has already made up his mind on what to say next. 

He pulls her into a hug, shushing her gently while he rubs her back in an attempt to keep her from getting too worked up. It isn't until she calms down a little more that he finally decides to speak. 

"Can I let you in on a little secret?" Bob asks, his voice low in her ear. All Dottie manages is a nod, but Bob continues diligently. 

"I fucking hate that thing," 

"You what?" Dottie sniffles a bit, her voice muffled by his flight suit. 

"I hate that thing!" Bob repeats himself, louder this time. There is a laugh that follows right out of his lips. Dottie pulls back, looking at him with wild eyes. 

"Are you telling me that you've been hauling that thing around for over a decade even though you hate it?" Her mouth hangs open when he laughs harder, eyes squeezing together behind his glasses. 

"Yeah. I'm glad we can finally get rid of it!"

"So, let me get this straight, you've been hauling it around, and we have been setting that stupid thing up for years and you've wanted to get rid of it this whole time?" Dottie looks like she is trying to solve a cold case behind flushed cheeks and wet eyes. The expression just makes Bob laugh harder. 

"My grandmother gave me that," Bob manages to explain between deep breathes and lingering laughter. 

"You're making me feel worse," Dottie crosses her arms over her chest, but never lets go of Bob's hand. He just pulls her closer, wrapping her back into his embrace. 

"I'm not trying to, sweetheart. I'm trying to explain," 

Dottie looks up at him, through her lashes expectantly. Bob continues with a sigh, doing his best to ignore the light sheen still clinging to her cheeks. 

"Remember the Christmas Pops brought my sisters and I to see my grandmother before I went to the academy?" Bob inquires with a gentle voice, maintaining eye contact with Dottie as he does. "Well, she gave me that Nativity set. She said that every proper home needed one, and since I was going to be in my own home I needed to have one,"

"That's kind of sweet," Dottie mutters.

"It gets worse," Bob promises, a wry smile on his lips. 

"She knew that I wasn't raised religious, and didn't agree with her view of religion being a necessity. She also knew that you weren't religious, and that made her dislike you. When she gave that thing to me she said some backhanded comment about how you weren't wife material because of you lack of religious background,"

"That bitch," 

"My thoughts exactly," Bob chuckles, "She was a racist old bitty too,"

That gets them both laughing. Dottie's head comes to rest on Bob's shoulder, her face flushing as she grins. 

"Then why did you keep it?" She asks finally, after they calm down. 

"I dunno. I guess I felt bad for even wanting to get rid of it that I just couldn't without feeling sort of guilty about it. However, every time I moved I hoped it would break or that the box would get lost so I wouldn't have to deal with it anymore," The confession is spoken with a laugh and the feeling of being a hundred times lighter takes over his once aching limbs. 

"Geez, Bobby," Dottie starts with a heavy sigh, though the tension seems to release from her shoulders as she exhales. "I'm glad that you aren't too hurt over the whole thing. Guess I'm just sad it ruined the mood," 

There is a shrug of her shoulders before Bob is placing a widespread hand on her stomach, pulling her frame back into his firm body. 

"Oh Dot, sweetheart," Bob nuzzles his nose into her hair, "We are still just getting started."

He spins her body in his hold before picking her up. Legs wind themselves around his midsection, hands cradling his neck before venturing north into his too neat hair. They kiss with a needy heat, one that is just beginning to burn as Dot pulls back. 

"Wait," Her breath fans over his skin, his fingertips digging into the fullest parts of her thighs, "The glass, we can't just leave it," 

The bridge of his nose runs along the slope of her jaw, her lower lip making a home between imperfect teeth. 

"I'll tend to it later," It's a whispered promise, "But you're the only dangerous thing I want to deal with right now," 

"Me? Dangerous?" The words slip past her lips as Bob deposits her down onto the kitchen counter, allowing himself to settle between her legs. 

"Absolutely. I mean, if we weren't destined for hell before, breaking that little scene while getting up to some nefarious business has to of dammed our souls for sure," There is an air of humor in his voice, even as Bob tries his best to keep a straight face as he places kisses down the side of Dottie's neck. 

"Robert Floyd!" There is a little squeal that accompanies his name, just as he digs his fingers into the squishy flesh at her sides, tickling her. 

"Yes, Mrs. Floyd?" He asks over the choir of her laughter, his own breaking past his smile, "Do you disagree? Even though you were the one to proposition me?" 

"You kissed me first!" It's a weak argument, but it's the best one she's got. His tickling hands come to rest on her waist, heavy and warm. 

"After that little proposition you made. What was it? Christen the house by letting me fuck you in all of my favorite places?" One of his hands comes up to cradle the side of her face, a devious smirk on his own. Dottie makes to attempt to shy away from her husband's heavy gaze. Instead her eyes trail down the slope of his nose and over the ridges of his cupids bow. She plucks his glasses from his nose to get an unimpeded look at his sea glass irises. 

"About that..." His glasses clink against the cool stone of the countertop, his eyebrows raising with curiosity. 

"Where to first, Mr. Floyd?" The devious smirk never leaves Bob's face as he pulls her in closer, closer, closer. 

"Oh, sweetheart, we're already here," 

[edupunkn00b]

Roomies, Ch. 7: Realizations

Prev - Realizations - Masterpost - [ AO3 ]

WC: 6460 (My hand slipped) - Rated: T - CW: Parents being assholes (but also parents being awesome); uh, swearing; kissing - Written for @intrualityweek 2024: Realization

When everything comes to light.

Despite rushing and more than a little haphazard packing, they didn’t quite finish gathering up Patton’s stuff before Ro and Logan had already bundled into the Reyes’ truck. Accustomed to driving around half the cast of whichever play Ro was in or transporting giant sculptures from the school and out to community gallery showings for Re, the Reyes’ drove an impossibly large SUV. With all the seats up, it seated eight.

For this trip, though, to make room for all their bags—and a small cooler of snacks and drinks for the long ride—Mr. Reyes had needed to drop one seat in each row.

When they got downstairs, Ro and Logan were happily squished together in the middle row, leaving two seats for Re and Patton in the back.

“It’ll be cozy,” Re smiled, a little nervously, maybe. Was he afraid Patton got car sick?

“Are you sure—” Patton looked back over his shoulder and up at the dorms. He couldn’t see their window from here, but maybe seeing the truck so full might’ve changed their minds. “I’m gonna squish you.”

“No you won’t,” he said and opened the car door. When Patton got closer, he bent his head and whispered near his ear. “I hate riding alone in the back.”

His voice was light, like he was about to add a punchline but his eyes were serious and Patton whispered back, “Really?”

“Really, really,” he said, grinning when Patton clambered inside and buckled his seat belt. “See?” Re said once he’d folded himself into his own seat. “We fit just right.”

Re was right, the back row was cozy, but not cozy the way a too-tiny studio was called ‘cozy.’ Comfortable cozy. A mug of hot cocoa in the dining hall and listening to Re talk about his newest project kind of cozy. Hiding together in the utility closet across the hall from Ro and Logan’s dorm room during the first water balloon incident kind of cozy. 

With a bag on one side and Re on his other, Patton felt hugged in the best of ways.

He nodded. Pressed up against his, Re’s leg was warm, even through their clothes, a very much appreciated warmth when he remembered how the Reyes’ liked to keep the car cool on long drives to make sure whichever one of them was driving stayed alert. As the car drove out past the college gates and out onto the highway, Logan unzipped the bag next to him and pulled out a small throw blanket.

Re shivered next to him and Patton looked at the bags surrounding them. “Hey, my sweatshirt’s near the top,” Patton murmured to Re, twisting over the back of the seat to reach his bigger bag. “Lemme get it.”

“Oh, sure, yeah,” he said, doing his best to move out of the way. He chuckled when the sweatshirt caught on his head when Patton retrieved it, knocking his hair in his eyes.

“Sorry,” Patton laughed, helping right his curls in the dim light before unzipping the oversized hoodie.

Re blinked at him when he covered both of them with the plush fleece. “You don’t mind?”

“‘Course not. Oh—unless you mind?” Patton added, eyes wide. It was dark outside and hard to read his expression. Was Re just trying to be polite?

“Never,” he grinned, teeth flashing under a passing streetlight. He chuckled as he helped cover their laps with the hoodie then sat back with a sigh. “We’ll be warmer together.”

~

It was after midnight by the time they turned off the highway and down into the local streets. Most houses were dark, with only a few whose Christmas lights hadn’t yet been turned off for the night. It felt weird to be back, a queasy nostalgia for a neighborhood Patton didn’t think he’d see this Christmas. Or ever?

For not the first time, Patton was grateful his parents lived deeper into the cul-de-sac than Re and Ro did. This time, though, instead of the thrill of a glimpse of the Reyes’ house on his way back home, he was relieved it meant the Reyes’ likely wouldn’t need to drive past his parents’ house on the way in. And likely spot their car in the driveway.

Mrs. Reyes eased the car to a stop and put it into park. “We’re home, niños,” she said quietly, chuckling when she looked back at them through the rear-view mirror.

All three Reyes men were asleep.

“Nothing to do but love them,” she said, shaking her head with a smile. “Lindo,” she murmured, touching Mr. Reyes’ shoulder. [ ‘Cutie,’ ] “Corazoncito, we’re here,” she said when he didn’t budge. Patton didn’t know that word but she’d said it before. He could ask Re later. Whatever it meant, it seemed to work because Mr. Reyes opened his eyes with a little groan and climbed out of the car.

Half-listening to Logan’s sleepy attempt to wake Ro, Patton brushed Re’s arm. “Hey, Re,” he murmured. “It’s time to get out of the car,” he added, a little guilty for waking him at all. Deeply asleep, head tucked between the headrest and one of Patton’s bags, Re’s eyes and mouth were completely relaxed. “Re?” he said again, giving his arm a little shake. 

“Mm-hm,” he said, nodding with his eyes still closed. Mumbling something Patton couldn’t understand, Re shifted closer and curled one arm around him, head rested on his shoulder. Re’s hair tickled his nose, soft against his cheek. It still smelled faintly of the hair dye they’d picked out together the week before.

Even in sleep, Re’s grip around his middle was strong and secure, a firm but not unwelcome hug. Smiling in the still dim back seat, Patton carefully laid his arm over Re’s and gave it a little pat.

The car went quiet. Patton didn’t move, didn’t look up. The spell was broken a moment later when Ro reached over the middle seat and shook Re’s shoulder. “Dude, wake up,” he said. “You’re laying all over Pat.”

“Wha—” he jerked awake, looking first at his brother and then at Patton, eyes wide. “Oh, fuck, I’m sorry,” he said. 

“It’s okay,” Patton tried to smile, bubbles popping in his stomach. He probably shouldn’t’ve liked it as much as he did. Re hadn’t meant to hug him in his sleep. He was… asleep, after all.

“Pendejo,” Ro muttered under his breath, too quiet for their parents to hear. Re looked away, unbuckling and climbing out of the car before Patton could ask him what it meant.

His confusion must have shown because Logan whispered as he got out, pulling a bag along with him. “It means ‘creep,’” he explained. “Letch.”

“Ro, he wasn’t—” Patton called after him but he didn’t stop, just picked up two of the larger bags and kept going. Patton clambered out of the car, dragging the bag next to him. Laden with bags, the Reyes’ and RoLo headed inside the house. Re was at the trunk, taking out the remaining bags and setting them down on the floor of the garage.

He didn’t say anything at first when Patton joined him, just pulled out another bag, grunting when the strap snagged on a hook in the back. Patton reached in to help free it and Re gave him a weak smile. “Thanks, Pattycake. I…” He shook his head, still not quite looking directly at him. “I didn’t mean to… I mean I wasn’t trying to…”

Patton reached for the bag, covering his hand. “I didn’t mind, Re,” he whispered back. “It was…” He took a deep breath then looked up to meet his eyes. “It was kinda nice, actually. I liked it.”

“Really?” A smile tugged up one corner of Re’s mouth. Gaze still fuzzy with sleep, his eyes practically twinkled in the low light. 

Patton nodded. “Really, really,” he grinned and hooked the bag over his shoulder.

~

The rich scents of coffee and chilis fried in butter greeted Remus when he woke the next morning. “‘Morning, Patty—“ he mumbled, rolling over to face his own closet in his own quiet room back home. 

But Pat wasn't there. Shaking the last of his dreams from his head, he stretched and shoved aside his blankets. No, Pat wasn't in his room, but he was just down the hall. He pulled on the first T-shirt he found, brushed his teeth and took his meds, then rushed out of his room.

He lingered in the hall, listening to Pat’s muffled laughter dancing up the stairs. Sounded like Ro was already up, too.

Early in the morning after their 13th birthday sleepover, Ro’s voice was the first thing Remus heard. Well, his braggadocious brother was the second voice he’d heard that morning. He’d been woken by Patton’s stifled laughter outside his door as he and Ro had whispered in the hall on their way downstairs. Now Ro boomed up from the kitchen. “So we were at two minutes to curtain and the props master still couldn’t find my goblet~” Remus snickered to himself when Ro’s voice cracked at the end. Puberty’s a bitch, huh, Ro-Bro? Ro cleared his throat and Patton’s voice tittered, “And then what did you do?” “Well—” Standing on the upstairs landing, Remus didn’t have to see his brother to imagine him standing tall, shoulders back and a hand pressed regally to his chest. “I had no choice! I had to go on stage without it.” “Oh!” Patton gasped. He would be looking up at Ro, eyes big and round, mouth drawn into a soft little O-shape. Or maybe he’d covered his mouth entirely, ready to laugh at Ro’s wind-up. “But it was the grail!” he said. “I know,” Ro intoned, deathly serious. Remus rolled his eyes and ran down the stairs, only half listening. “I held my right hand upstage for most of the scene and then at the very last minute—” “Good morning!” Remus cried, bounding into the kitchen. “Re! You ruined my story!” His brother whined, stomping his foot. Smile gone, Patton slid to one side, keeping Ro between Remus and himself. “Morning, Remus,” he said quietly to the floor. “Um, would you like some sofrito and eggs?” he asked, pointing to the big skillet at the back of the stove. “There’s plenty.”  “Pattington, you needn’t bother— “Nah, just coffee’s good for me.” Reaching for the pot and his favorite mug, Remus interrupted whatever snide remark his brother hoped to make. “I can’t believe he drinks that sludge,” Ro complained under his breath to Patton before turning back to him. “You’ll stunt your growth that way, you know.” Remus shrugged. “Still taller than you, little bro,” he cackled, sipping to see if it was hot enough. Nodding to himself, he opened the fridge and rooted around for an open can of condensed milk. “And wouldn’t Mamí just love to hear you call her café con leche ‘sludge.”” “You wouldn’t dare! And I am the elder brother!” Ro stomped his foot again. “By two hours,” Remus laughed. “You sure as fuck act like it, too.”

Raking his hands through his hair, Remus shook away the memory. He closed his eyes and focused on Pat’s sweet smile last night when they’d finally gotten all the bags inside and the guest bed made up and they’d said good night, promising each other breakfast in the morning. Everything was different now. Wasn’t it? 

Pushing down the butterflies in his stomach, he fluffed up his hair then dashed down the stairs three at a time.

“Gooood morning,” he called, bounding around the corner. He stopped short when he found the person making Pat laugh in the kitchen hadn’t been Ro.

But Mamí.

“Good morning, Re!” Pat grinned at him from the other side of the stove where he was beating eggs in Mamí’s big steel bowl. Sunlight streamed in from the kitchen window, setting his curls ablaze with threads of gold and copper and platinum. “Oh, no,” he said over his shoulder, pouring in the egg mixture at Mamí’s prodding. The eggs sizzled with the chilis and tomatoes and a rush of yummy steam curled up toward the ceiling. “Did we wake you?”

“Nah,” he said, shaking his head and stepping into the kitchen. He bent to accept a kiss on the cheek from his mother, watching Pat shake the big skillet over the burner.

“How did you sleep, mijo?” Mamí peered into his eyes, a quick press of the back of her hand to his forehead another tell that his thoughts had subtitles again.

“Really good,” he said, smiling down at her before glancing at Pat scrambling the eggs in their pan. “Hungry, I think.”

Pat laughed, “You’ve come to the right place, then. Your mom’s been cooking up a feast this morning.”

Mamí hummed, giving him a little squeeze before moving to the percolator bubbling at the back of the stove. “This is almost all Solecito’s work,” she demurred, passing Remus the coffee pot. “He really knows his way around the kitchen.”

Blushing, Pat looked down with a little shrug. “I like to cook. I’ve missed it,” he added after a moment.

“Not much of a chance to cook at university, is there?” Mamí said. “It will be good to be home for a while, ¿verdad?” she asked, giving his shoulders a squeeze.

“Mm-hm,” he nodded, turning as he piled the eggs onto a waiting platter. Profile backlit and his head bowed, Remus nearly missed the way Pat’s smile evaporated as he scraped the pan. 

He stepped closer, then Mamí tapped the hand holding the coffee pot. Remus blinked. “I’m going to wake Papí,” she said. “So we can get to the grocery store before it gets too crowded.” She raised her eyebrows and added quietly, “Cuida a tu invitado.” [ ‘Take care of your guest.’ ]

“Si, Mamí,” he murmured and kissed her cheek before turning to Pat. “Hey, Pattycake. Want some coffee that’ll put the dining hall’s to shame?”

Pat turned and met his eyes, and Remus warmed all the way to his toes at the return of that perfect little smile. “I’d love some!”

~

“Please, Re?” Pat looked up at him, the wetness in his eyes nearly making him back down. “You go unpack in your room while I finish washing up. I’ve got this,” he insisted, giving his arm a squeeze. Remus could take his hand right now, pull him into a hug and just make him take a break. “It’s the least I can do.”

Pat's soft fingers brushed over his as he took the stack of dishes from his hands. “No, the least you can do is go take a nap upstairs like RoLo.”

His blush could set off a fire alarm. “I don’t think they’re sleeping upstairs,” Pat whispered conspiratorially. He shrugged, more embarrassed than jealous and Re had to keep his hands shoved in his pockets to resist the urge to hug him.

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” he chuckled, looking up at the ceiling. Thank fuck for good sound insulation. “All the more reason to let me help you down here, yeah?” he said, bumping Pat’s shoulder.

“Alright,” he conceded before flashing him a grin. “I’ll wash, you dry?” Pat jerked his head toward the tall cabinets. “You’ve got better reach, anyway.”

“Aye, aye, Cap’n,” Remus grinned and picked up a towel.

~

Dishes washed and put away, Patton leaned back against the counter, looking around the Reyes’ kitchen. The PTSA calendar had been replaced with a print out of the college’s semester schedule. Patton smiled. That, and a class schedule for salsa lessons at the studio downtown. Everything else, though? 

The whole house had hardly changed since the last he’d been there, a couple days after graduation. One last sleepover at Ro’s house before his summer classes started, one last hurrah before Pat left for camp. One last bit of his old life before everything happened.

“Hey, Pattycake.” Re crooned, sliding along the counter to stand beside him. “Where’d you go?” Patton realized he’d crossed his arms over his belly, pressing away the dull ache he’d had since he first woken. Re looked down at him, big green eyes soft and concerned. One hand gripped the counter just next to him and Patton had the wild urge to grab it and wrap his arm around him the way he had in the car.

Patton smiled up at him, mostly real. “Distracted, sorry. Maybe I’m just a little tired?”

“It’s probably safe to head upstairs for an actual nap if you want,” Re shrugged. 

He looked up at the stairs. The guest room was nice—really nice, with a big double bed and fluffy comforters. But it was… Patton looked up at Re. It felt weird to sleep without someone else in the room now. Without Re in the room. 

Re was still watching him like he could read every thought as he had, because he suddenly smiled. “Or we could chill out together on the couch? Put on something brainless and veg?”

The tight band wrapped around Patton’s chest loosened and he nodded. “Yeah, let’s do that.”

Smiling, Re bowed like he had that first night in the dorms, one arm swung wide. “After yooooou,” he said, voice dropping as he bent all the way over until his hair almost touched the floor.

“Nooooo, yooooooou,” Patton said, laughing.

~

Rain clouds darkened Pat’s eyes, even as a sweet giggle spilled out at his performance. Pat was trying so hard to act like he wasn’t hurt his parents couldn’t fucking be bothered to make a home for him over break—over both breaks, Remus thought with a sinking feeling in his gut. He’d been so fucked up last month, he’d just accepted that Pat’s parents really had chosen a cruise over their own son.

He followed Pat’s gaze as they entered the living room, passing the wall covered in Mamí’s favorite photographs. Some were ancient, tiny black and white photos now with sepia edges, stowed away in suitcases for decades. Some were from last year’s prom. Pat paused in front of the one of him and Ro when they were just kids. Standing side-by-side at the beach, missing front teeth and all. Mamí sat between them, hugging both of them in front of a giant sand castle they’d built together. It was taller than each of them, with the final spires completed with Re perched on Ro’s shoulders. Papí’d snapped it right before Ro chased him into a wave.  

Pat’s eyes were wet when he looked up at him. “Your parents love you so much,” he whispered. “You’re so lucky.” 

“Pattycake?” A tear slid down his cheek and Remus caught it with his thumb, brushing it away before catching another. Closing his eyes, Pat covered his hand and pressed it to his cheek. “Pattycake, what’s going on?”

Eyes down on the floor, Pat moved closer. “I… I need to tell you something,” he said, voice so, so small. “I—My parents—” 

He jumped when the garage squealed open. “¡Niños!”  Papí called inside. 

“Fuck,” Remus muttered when he heard the door upstairs. 

“¡Niños! Come and help with the bags, please!”

Straightening, Pat scrubbed at his eyes. “We should go help,” he said, glancing up at him with wide, scared eyes. Chin puckered, his lips trembled before he looked back down at his toes. What the fuck did his parents do?

“Pattycake, no.” Fuck it. He grabbed Pat’s hand and cradled it between his, tracing the squishy peaks and valleys of his knuckles. Somehow Pat didn’t pull away so Re drew closer and whispered, “Let Ro pull his weight, you’re—”

But Pat shook his head firmly, tugging him closer to the garage door. Only then did he loosen his grip and wipe away the last of his tears.

Giving in, Remus leaned close just as RoLo bounded down the stairs. “Later?” he whispered.

Nodding, Pat swallowed hard before whispering. “Later.” He pulled open the door and led them out to the garage. “I promise.”

~

The Reyes were quieter than usual as they all worked to unpack the car. Looking at the bags and bags of groceries and the long, curled receipt Mrs. Reyes shoved in the recycling bin with a little frown, Patton imagined whatever this all must’ve cost would put anyone in a bad mood. Mr. Reyes squeezed his shoulder as he lugged three of the last bags, lips thin as he nodded. “Gracías,” he murmured and closed the trunk, waiting to see the dome light click off.

“Happy to help,” Patton said quickly, looking down at the bags in his hands. At least some of the extra food they’d bought had probably been with him in mind, the extra mouth to feed they’d taken on—unknowingly—for the next two weeks. Maybe he could convince them to lend him their car and he could make a grocery run when it became clear his parents were never going to show up.

A touch of his guilt allayed with his new plan, Patton set the last bags on the counter and joined Re. He’d already put away most of the groceries in the kitchen while Ro and Logan tackled the cold bags out in the garage freezer, laughing when Logan referred to it as ‘applied Tetris.’

“Solecito,” Mrs. Reyes called to him from atop a step stool next to the stove. She shook an opened box of baking powder as she stepped down. “Will you check to see we have another of these in the bags? I thought we’d bake cookies today.” Her gaze lingered on his face, like she was looking for something besides just if he thought she’d bought what they needed.

“Oh! What kind would you like to make? Can I help?” He swallowed hard when he pulled out the big ten-pound bag of flour. He and his mom baked together every year for the neighborhood cookie exchange. He wondered what she baked without him this year. Carefully setting down the bag and dusting off his hands, he looked up and met Mrs. Reyes’ watchful eyes as she approached.

“¡Sin duba!” she said, smiling. “It wouldn’t be Christmas without your snickerdoodles, Solecito.” She curled one arm around his back and squeezed.

“Yeah, they’re the best!” Re grinned, taking two giant Costco-sized cans of condensed milk from the last bag and sliding them onto a high shelf in the pantry. “Especially Ro’s secret stash,” he stage-whispered with a glance at his brother to see that he heard as they came in from the garage.

“Ah!” Hand pressed to his chest and mouth agape, Ro gasped at his brother. The lump in Patton’s throat softened just a bit. “You stole the cookies Pat made especially for me?”

“Damn right I did,” Re cackled, winking at Patton when he let out a broken laugh. “And they were absolutely scrumptious, too.”

“And you laugh!” Ro turned to Pat now, unable to hold back his own smile. “The absolute betrayal!”

Patton laughed again when Ro flung his arm over his eyes and swooned, falling into Logan’s waiting arms. “Don’t worry, I’ll make a double batch for each of you, all of you,” he added, grinning at Logan. “If—” His smile faltered and he looked back at Mrs. Reyes. “Oh, only if that’s okay with you. I—It—it’s your kitchen.”

“Ai, of course, Solecito!” she smiled and ruffled his hair. She used to call him that all the time when he was little and then she’d stopped sometime around high school. He hadn’t realized just how much he’d missed it until she’d started saying it again in their dorm room. “Why don’t you start a batch now? You can keep me company while I start the masa.” 

Mr. Reyes gripped his sons’ shoulders. “And you three,” he grinned as he included Logan, a wide smile reminiscent of both Ro’s and Re’s. “Come help me bring up the big leaf and some extra chairs from the basement.”

Patton looked through the little cutaway out at the Reyes’ dining room and the mahogany dining table that perfectly seated five. Tears stung his eyes. They wouldn’t need the extra space if he weren’t there.

“Go on, we need the room to bake,” Linda shooed the rest of them toward the hallway. “You, too, Garrochón, I’ve got all the help I need right now with Solecito here.” She wrapped a warm, soft arm around Patton’s shoulders and the burning in his eyes only grew. “Later you’ll help me wrap the tamales.”

It was only then Patton looked up and saw Re hadn’t followed his father downstairs. Instead he’d stepped into the kitchen and was watching him, gnawing the edge of his mustache with a wrinkle between his brows.

“Confía, mijo,” she whispered and, after a long moment, Re nodded and flashed Patton a grin.

“Whaddya say about sneaking in some cayenne into some Ro’s batch?” he said none-too-quietly.

“I heard that!” Ro called from the staircase.

“You were supposed to,” Re laughed back, eyes never straying from his. “You’ll come find me when you need a taste tester, yeah?” he said to Patton, quieter. 

“You really thought last year’s cookies were ‘delectable?’” 

“Of course,” he grinned, backing into the hallway. ”Why do you think I steal Ro’s cookies every year?” he added in a whisper before winking and heading down the stairs.

“Payaso,” Mrs. Reyes muttered with a laugh, shaking her head with a proud smile.

“Love you, too, Mamí,” Re laughed, then the door to the basement closed and the house grew quiet again.

While Mrs. Reyes took out bowls and measuring cups, Patton quickly cleared the rest of the counter, folding bags to put back in the car for next time. She hummed tunelessly, like she was thinking. Finally, she cleared her throat and spoke.

“We bumped into your mother at the store today.”

Grateful his back was to her, Patton tried to still his shaking hands. “O—oh?” He’d tried to sound conversational, but his voice shook and cracked. What else could he say?

When Mrs. Reyes remained silent, Patton nodded and continued to fold the stack of grocery bags. He had enough money in his account to get back to campus if he had to. And the room was still stocked from what he’d expected would be a two week break there. He might have a bit of a wait with the holiday Greyhound schedule and he’d need to get off the local bus early. With the road work it wouldn’t go all the way onto campus. He’d figure it out once he got up there. It was all totally doable, he nodded to himself. Totally doable. 

She still didn’t speak, just waited for Patton to explain. Explain why he’d lied. Explain what the hell he was doing in their house.  “Wha—what did she tell you?” he asked, playing dumb like the coward he was.

Mrs. Reyes moved closer and laid a soft hand on his shoulder. “Everything.”

Finally he turned to face her. Her eyes had grown just as watery as his. “Ai, pobrecito,” she whispered and opened her arms. Patton fell into her hug, a small sob escaping his lips. She held him close, her shirt smelling like sofrito and the same flowery perfume she’d worn for as long as Patton could remember. Tears forced their way out past screwed shut eyes and he cried, hiding his face against her shoulder.

She never let go. Simply rocked him, stroking back his hair and making little shushing sounds. When his tears slowed, she whispered, “Solecito, why didn’t you tell anyone?” 

“I…” He let out a shuddering breath. I was going to. “I was okay,” he said instead. “I was lucky. I wasn’t like Logan, I had a lot of my stuff, and a job and—”

“No, that’s fine, Ro Bro,” Re’s voice burst out as the basement door opened. “You just keep reliving your glory days with Lo Lo down there, I’ll bring up—Pattycake?” Soft, worried, so unlike his previous snark for his brother.

“Ven,” Mrs. Reyes’ moved one hand from his back, beckoning Re closer. “But shut the door,” she murmured.

Re put down the chair he’d carried up and followed her instructions. He drew close and a warm, strong hand curled around his shoulder. Patton looked up and Re brushed back his hair from his eyes. “Is later now?”

“Why don’t you two talk?” Mrs. Reyes suggested, turning him to face Re as she let go. Patton wrapped his arms around his belly, already missing the warmth of her hold. “Can I tell the boys downstairs?” she asked him and he nodded quickly, relief flooding his veins.

He didn’t want to see their faces when they heard. 

“Thank you,” he whispered, throat still too tight for anything louder.

Re didn’t move until the basement door opened and closed again. “Pattycake?” he said again, hands twitching at his sides. “Can I hug you?”

Patton couldn’t look up, just nodded, melting into his embrace as Re wrapped strong arms around him. He finally broke when Re reached up and stroked his hair. “I’ve been lying to you,” he choked out, face tucked against his chest. “I’m sorry.”

Re hummed, rubbing his back. “What about Pattycake?”

“My parents aren’t…” The web of half-truths and outright lies tangled in his throat and he hardly knew where to begin. “They’re not out of town. That’s not why they didn’t pick me up.”

“Did you kill ‘em?”

Re almost sounded serious and a wet laugh pushed its way up Patton’s throat as he peered up into bright green eyes, soft with worry even as a wild smile stretched across his face. Patton shook his head.

“Oh, well if you had,” Re met his eyes, jaw set. “You know I’d help you bury the bodies, right?” Patton was pretty sure he meant it, too. Arms curled tightly around him, Re had lost his grin but his gaze was still soft. Pat couldn’t remember ever seeing him look at anybody else like that. “What’d they do, Pattycake?” he murmured.

“They don’t want me,” Patton blurted out. “I…” He sucked in another breath when his throat closed up and after a moment tried again. “My parents aren’t like yours. I knew that,” he said, nodding. “I just… I just thought they just needed time, you know?” 

Understanding bloomed in Re’s eyes and Patton continued.

“I waited until I was at camp to tell them,” he whispered with a shrug. “To come out. Let them think about it, let them see how everyone at camp was supportive and—” His voice broke and Re pulled him close again, fingers carding through his hair. “I thought when I got back they’d be ready to talk about it.”

Re’s voice rumbled in his chest. “What’d they do, Pattycake?” he asked again.

“They said I wasn’t their son anymore. They reported my car stolen, cops came to camp and towed it ‘cause the title’s in their name.” Once he started, the words spilled out. “They bricked my phone, told Camp to take them off my emergency contacts, said they’d—” 

Re growled and held him tighter. 

“They said they’d call the cops if I ever went back home. That it wasn’t my home anymore.”

Re curled around him, cheek rubbing against the top of his head. “They’re right,” he whispered. 

Patton held his breath, hope and fear warring in his chest. 

“This is your home right here,” he said, long arms still wrapped around him as he pulled back just enough so their eyes could meet. Re smiled. “If you want it to be.”

Epilogue

Patton only saw his parents once that winter break, walking with Mrs. Reyes to deliver their cookies for the neighborhood cookie exchange. It was cold out, with an icy rain just shy of snow as they trudged through winding streets. Patton was kept warm by her proud smile as they handed over a double batch of espejos and snickerdoodles they’d baked together. 

She didn’t even slow when they neared Patton’s old house, sucking her teeth and muttering, “Deja que Dios los perdone,” as they passed. Only one other house wouldn’t answer the door when they knocked and Mrs. Reyes shrugged with a wide smile that reminded Patton of Re as she stepped off the porch with him. “More cookies for us, then,” she said, handing the paper box to him to carry with the other cookies and treats they’d been given by the other houses.

Patton’s parents walked together on the other side of the street, pretending not to see them.  They walked up to the Greyson’s house, stopping when the porch light clicked off on their approach. Patton hitched his bag up on his shoulder, keeping the waterproof flap shut. 

The Greysons had given him and Mrs. Reyes two boxes of cookies in the exchange. 

Watching from the corner of his eye, Patton saw the next house was the same. His parents knocked and rang the bell, and though two cars sat in the driveway, Christmas lights twinkling brightly in the lit windows, no-one answered. Mrs. Reyes took his hand and gave it a little squeeze. “Keep going?” she asked.

He nodded. “We’ve got more cookies to deliver.”

~

Christmas Eve, home again after midnight mass, after all the ‘good night’s were done, Mr. and Mrs. Reyes, then finally even Ro and Logan had headed off to bed. Pat sat across the kitchen table from him, each nursing their own hot chocolates. Without the draw of morning classes, neither of their sleep schedules were where they should be, and getting back into the right routine would be a bitch. But for now, Remus treasured the quiet time with Pat.

They both drank slowly, like a reverse race to see who could finish their mugs last. Not the Remus minded. It was getting harder and harder to fall asleep in the room by himself and as good as it felt to be home, he’d found himself counting the days until they got back to their dorm room and he could fall asleep listening to Pat breathe.

Pat yawned but shook his head, eyes watching the stairs like they might slither over and bite him. “I don’t wanna go to bed,” he blurted out, blinking in surprise at his own words. 

Remus grinned. Maybe Pat was having the same problem he was.

“Hey,” he whispered and Pat looked up, a sleepy smile curling up his lips. “We could crash in the living room, say we were waiting for Santa or some shit.”

Giggling, Pat nodded. “Okay.” Taking his hand, another bubble of laughter burst out from his chest and Pat led the way to the big couch, stopping only when he passed under one of the little sprigs of mistletoe Ro had been putting up around the house all week.

Remus’ laughter fizzled out, eyes up at the little green and white bundle tied with a bright red bow. “Look out, Pattycake,” he said, waggling his eyebrows. “If you stop here, somebody might try to kiss you.”

Bottom lip caught between his teeth, Pat smiled up at him. “Somebody might,” he said, nodding. 

Remus’ throat went dry when Pat stepped closer, hands reaching up and resting on his shoulders. Distantly, he heard a door upstairs open and close, but then Pat pushed up onto his tiptoes and grinned. Automatically, Remus’ arms circled Pat’s back, steadying him.

Pat tugged him closer. “Unless I kiss somebody fir—”

“Remus!” Ro hissed from the hallway. 

He and Pat whipped around, one arm still curled around his waist. Ro glared at him. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” 

“Ah, Roman—” Logan began, gripping his shoulder.

“No!” Ro shrugged him off. “I will not simply stand by while my lecherous brother takes advantage of—”

“Roman!” Pat grabbed Remus’ hand and slid between them, staring up at Ro.

Warmth shot up Remus’ arm and he shrugged, giving Pat’s hand a little squeeze. Pat squeezed back. “At least I’m not the one who spent the last week hanging these damn things all over the house just so I’d have an excuse to make out with my boyfriend!”

Red splotches spread over Ro’s face and he stabbed a finger at him. “No, but you are the one who lured poor Patton over here to try to mack on him!” Ro stepped closer, talking over Patton’s head. “And you are the one who draped your body all over his in the car on the way back home! He’s been through enough and—”

“Roman, stop it!” Pat snapped in an angry whisper. “Did it ever occur to you that maybe I want to kiss him?”

Ro’s mouth hung open and he looked back at Pat with giant eyes. A dead fish on a slab.

“Come on, Roman,” Logan murmured, tugging him back toward the stairs. He flashed Remus a tiny smile, nodding approvingly before drawing Ro closer. “Let’s give them their privacy. You can apologize in the morning.”

“But, mi amor,  I—”

Their voices faded as they walked upstairs but they both caught Lo’s insistent repetition. “You can apologize in the morning.” 

Remus relished Pat’s chuckle as he turned to face him again. They both looked up. They’d moved and the mistletoe was no longer above their heads. He shrugged, working to keep the disappointment from his voice, “They’re all over the place, we’ll—”

Pat cut him off, pulling him down and pressing their lips together. He tasted like chocolate and spice, a hint of peppermint. His lips were as soft as Remus had always imagined they’d be and he had to fight the impulse to chase them when he broke away with a sweet laugh. “I hope that’s okay,” he whispered, cheeks pink. “I didn’t ask.”

“More than okay,” Remus nodded, tracing his thumb over Pat’s bottom lip. “I… You…” He swallowed hard. “You don’t know how long I’ve thought about doing that.”

Pat’s smile put the Christmas tree lights to shame. “So I’m really not just your brother’s dorky friend from high school?”

“Uh-uh,” Remus shook his head, drawing closer. Slowly, slowly, slowly, he curled one arm around Pat’s back, the other hand cupped his cheek. “I’ll fuck up anyone who ever made you think were.” Remus hovered there, Pat’s breath warm against his cheek and his neck.

Pat was the one who closed the distance and kissed him again.

Remus chuckled against his lips. “And I’m not just your best friend’s creepy evil twin?”

“No.” Pat shook his head before kissing him again. Slower, this time, he parted his lips, giving him just a taste before pulling back again. 

Dizzy, Remus’ blood roared in his ears and he could never have imagined Pat’s next words.

Blushing, he whispered, “And I’ll fuck up anyone who ever made you think you were.”

[skinwalker-bratz]

My experiences from shifting to a realistic creepypasta reality.

i'm gonna tell you guys about my shifting experience to a REALISTIC creepypasta reality. Remember that you have to at least be 14 or 16 to read this because there are very messed up and disgusting stuff in this post, and most things look like it came from a the boys episode so DON'T READ IT if you're too sensitive to this stuff.

And a reminder that english is not my first language

One day me and smile dog made a bet about something i don't remember much, but he lost and i made him dress like paw patrol for a week.

once I had a mission in an abandoned factory and I hadn't to kill anyone just rob an item there, but there was criminals in there and an innocent man, so I decided to save him, which was extremely hard for me but he ended running from me frightened because of me... and he ran to a avenue where a truck ran over him.

one day masky made me mad, so I sneaked into Toby's room and extracted his cum on the floor and put it in masky's coffee.

I had a crush on Dr smiley once so I decided to write him a letter confessing to him. but the letter ended up in Slenderman's hands and later he told me he felt the same.

During a phase of my childhood when I was 7 years old, I had a kitten, and one day my cat had disappeared and I had been very sad, so my mother had prepared a meat soup to cheer me up, and when I had finished eating she showed me a piece of my cat's head and said: "was it good?". And then she laughed.

When i was a normal human in my 14s i had an encounter with a zalgo's prophet on Omegle's and they said that they were coming to me, so i thought that if i acted weird in my webcam they wouldn't come. So i started to do wild animal noises and pissed myself.

The prophet or zalgo's proxy, didn't came to get me so it worked.

one day I was in my real form, when I saw a girl with black hair wearing a white sweatshirt that I thought was Jeff, so I started following her, until she turned to me and screamed: "WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?" and threw pepper spray on my face.

I've already eaten a piece of Jack when he had an accident and was on the operating table, so they removed a piece of meat from his ribs that was very damaged and hanging and left it on a tray next to him. I was passing in the corridor and when I looked inside the operating room I saw the piece of meat on the tray and that Dr. smiley had gone out to get something, I sneaked in, took the piece and ate it and left the room.

I don't know what came over me, but at least it was good.

I found out that he regenerates, so this accident was no big deal.

One day I'd been bullied by everyone in the mansion, so i "accidentally" dropped some drug in the soup i was making and the people there ended up eating it, and everyone, except the ghosts, went high. And i got punished for it.

One day I made pasta (not a Creepypasta) as dinner and everyone who ate got sick and almost shit themselves. And again I've got punished and gone to the mansion's dungeon.

One day the proxy trio humiliated me in front of everyone, and i wanted revenge so i posted anonymously a hentai of them three in the mansion's web, and everyone who had phones saw it.

I dated Jack for a while there, and he started to like me to the point where he revealed his face to me. When he did that I realized he was so ugly that I almost cried when I kissed him. After about two weeks I broke up with him.

during my first Christmas in the mansion I saw offenderman using the Christmas turkey to do things u know what... but I was too shy to tell anyone, so during the dinner everyone ate the turkey, except me.

During a mission me and some proxies were discussing a plan and soon we got to a part that involved opening degrees, so I made a joke telling masky to open my legs 180 degrees and I got punished for it.

Note: proxies have a higher ranking than other creepys or lone rangers as they're called there, so you can't disrespect them at all

I already made at least 3 people go to a mental institution.

One day i got to knew about Jeff's and Liu's parents, so while Liu was very drunk i called him on a caller ID and i did my best mom impression voice to say: "it's me Liu, your mother, and I'm coming back for you." While playing hell background noises.

when i was 8 i hated clowns with all my forces but one day i had the bad luck to laughing jack find me. i hated him too much but i was good in not showing it, so one day I've set fire on him and Lucky that my mother found out about my "friend" and got rid of him.

my mother was a witch in that reality.

One say i fell out of my bedroom's window and broke a few bones, and i was brought to the medical office of the mansion and explained what happened to me to nurse and and she just said: "skill issue".

Of course, these are the funniest and light stuff that happened to me. Going to this reality just messed with me, and I'm still scared of some things, but my mental state is fine there's nothing to worry about me.

[femperor]

9:25 PM: Clock out of work. Get the snow and ice off my car. Take the edible I brought to work with me because driving home takes 10 minutes; much shorter than the activation time of any edible.

9:28PM: Get stuck just before the intersection right next to work. Use scraper to clear the snow under the tires.

9:31PM: Clear myself out after two trucks with plow attachments passed me. Headed straight home

9:32PM: Is that somebody walking out in a blizzard? Hell no. Getting stuck in your car is one thing but nobody should be hoofing it in this weather.

9:33PM: Introductions, new passenger starts giving me directions to his stop. He oversees the garbage in my car, citing having children of his own.

9:37PM: Stopping near an intersection leaves my car drifting towards a snowbank and gets stuck the second time tonight.

9:42PM: After some pushing and pulling, as well as plenty of scraping the snow that got stuck under the tires off the street, I look for things I could throw under the tires for traction. There were christmas presents from my father; unwrapped as I didn't want anything from him. Both of the ones that weren't box shaped contained sweatshirts.

9:51PM: The passenger and I escaped with much effort. I told him we were even after this and moved on.

9:55PM: Dropped off the passenger. I maintained a steady speed the entire way, stop signs be damned. I was the only person crazy enough to be driving at this hour anyways.

9:58PM: Officially on the way back to my own home. I hadn't gone far out of my own way for the passenger. Driving was slow, and I did need to concede the stoplight for a fellow poor soul.

10:03PM: The highways were more paved than the streets. I ended up passing a car doing 15mph while I wanted to do 30.

10:18PM: Back to city streets. Some other cars. Might have driven past a traffic camera.

10:21PM: The snowbank was drifting onto the road to my place. One last law to break before I climbed up the stairs, freed my feet from snow-wet socks, and took a long shower.