#Christmas Truck sweatshirt

[customizedstore]

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

[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.”

[demxters]

first off write me something about hangman that will finally make my ass read top gun fics

u got it bby, enjoy <3 also ARE HIS TITTIES NOT ENOUGH TO SWAY U TO READ SOME TG FICS??? (this also got ridiculously long my bad)

tw: one mention of anxiety

The Ways Hangman Says I Love You…

*gif credit @unicornships

for someone who can’t stop running his mouth, jake ‘hangman’ seresin struggles with saying the words ‘i love you’

however, you don’t mind because over the course of your relationship, you realized jake doesn’t say ‘i love you’

he shows it

the jacket

the first time you noticed it was during a night out at The Hard Deck with the rest of the squad

you were shivering and all but turning the color blue as you stood out on the deck with the rest of them

you had forgotten your jacket that night so you were practically glued to hangman’s side the entire time

he feels you shaking against him and it makes you frown

“baby, did you bring your jacket?”

the chattered “no” that leaves your lips is enough to have him running to the parking lot

“wait here,” is all he says as the rest of the aviators look at you in confusion

you can only shrug in response

he returns with his your US navy sweatshirt and you are absolutely baffled

“arms up, buttercup”

you playfully roll your eyes at the cheesy statement and put your arms up reluctantly as he pulls the sweatshirt over you

the warmth of the fabric and his lingering scent is enough to have you warming up immediately

jake’s lips quirk at the sight of you in his sweatshirt and he presses a soft kiss to the crown of your head

“better?”

“much, thank you.”

on your way back home it hits you that you haven’t seen this sweater in ages

and it’s been on missing for awhile

your anxiety starts to get the best of you and you catch yourself thinking

“were you keeping the sweatshirt in your truck this entire time because i kept stealing it from you? if so, then i am so sorry. you could’ve just told me and i would’ve gave it right back. seriously-“

he cuts you off with a laugh and if you didn’t know him so well, you would’ve thought he was laughing at you

he reaches over the console and grabs your hand in his, placing a soft kiss against the back of your hand

“that’s not why. i keep it in the truck because i know that you always forget to bring your jacket when we go out. then you end up complaining that you’re cold and i end up giving you mine. which i don’t mind, but i would rather not freeze to death.”

you almost stop breathing at his confession

“oh…thank you”

“no problem, sweetheart”

the soap problem

surprisingly, hangman’s favorite store is bath and body works

i mean this man is BIG on the seasonal scents

it’s christmas time and he has any place that has a sink stocked with vanilla sugar cookie soap

and because he loves it so much, you don’t tell him that the smell gives you the worst headaches

but somehow, jake being attentive as he is, notices that the you’re bothered

so one day when you’re at work he runs to bath and body works and switches out all the soap for a softer smelling scent

you get home and follow your usual routine, when you notice the soap in the bathroom

“jake, did you change the soap?”

“yeah���”

“why?”

“i don’t know. you didn’t seem to like it all that much.”

“but you only bought that one kind of soap. don’t tell me you bought more soap.”

“…”

“jake!”

“calm down, sweetheart, it’s really not that big of a deal.”

you give him the biggest kiss on the lips at that

because to you, it was the biggest deal in the world

“no one as ever bought new soap for me before. i love you.”

he only smiles, nudging the tip of your nose with his before kissing you again

i could go on and on about the things this man does but i’ll stop here for your sanity

[slafkovskys]

i feel like angel and the guys never announce that luke is back in the dynamic, and the way they “tel everyone” is luke being back in the christmas card that she totally makes them do every year

-🎪

their entire relationship has been fueled by speculation and that doesn’t change when everything happens with luke. the only reason people know something is up is that he and jack are obviously distant from each other during team events and the biggest clue was during the cup parade, angel and the twins were on a fire truck with jack while luke was completely separate with some of the single members of the team.

when he’s back in their lives, they keep equally as mum as they had been for five years because it was truly no one’s business besides their own.

it’s easy to convince her boys to get in front of the fireplace at jim and ellen’s in their cream colored pajamas with pastel colored gingerbread on them. she’s in between quinn’s legs while jack and luke flanked either of her sides. wren is sat properly in luke’s lap showcasing her newly acquired mini stick while drew is climbing all over jack.

she posts the picture without thinking much about it, a simple heart as the caption and quickly turning off the comments because she couldn’t bear to read the questions about why luke was suddenly in family photos again or why her onesie was clinging a little tighter to her midsection.

she had her family. her babies were happy. and she was almost halfway done carrying their third child, their second daughter, and maybe she was tired of the baggy sweatshirts and sucking in.

sue her.

[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!

[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.”

[customizedstore]

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

[katymacsupernatural]

Surrounding Warmth

Dean Winchester x Reader

800 Words

Written For: @spnchristmasbingo

Square Filled: Sitting By the Fire

Every square inch of your body ached. From the nails on your toes to the hair on your head. You were battered and bruised. Not to mention exhausted. Barely able to slide out of the Impala, you leaned against it.

Dean was in just as bad of shape. He had a large gash above his eye, the skin already bruised and swollen beneath. His jeans were ripped, blood staining his thigh. Grimacing as he moved, he still came over and wrapped his arm around your shoulder. “Shall we?”

Nodding in agreement, the two of you staggered down the hallway. “What the hell happened to you two?” Sam asked as he placed his duffel bag on the table. 

“Ghouls,” You both answered at the same time. Dean stopped at the table while you continued on, wanting nothing more than a long soak in a hot bath. 

“Where the hell are you going?” Dean asked Sam, pouring a tall glass of whiskey.

“Jody needs help. I wasn’t sure if you would be back or not, so I told her I’d come help.”

You sighed, wondering if your bath was going to have to wait. “We can come with,” Dean offered, just as you knew he would. 

“No, you two look like you need some time to relax. To heal. Jody and I have this,” Sam assured Dean. 

The rest of the conversation continued on behind your door as you closed it. Grateful to be back home, you immediately slipped off your bloody and ripped shirt, throwing it in the trash. Your jeans went next before you gingerly stepped into the connected bathroom. While a long soak in a bath sounded amazing, you decided on a long hot shower instead. Leaning against the white tiled walls, you watched as the dried blood mixed with the water, swirling down the drain along with some of the soreness.

Once your fingers started to wrinkle, you turned the water off. Wrapping a towel around you, you headed back into your room to see your favorite lounge pants and sweatshirt laid out on the bed with a note.

“Whenever you’re ready, come to the library.”

Slipping on your fuzziest slippers you felt completely rejuvenated. Sure, your lip was still split, and your ankle ached, but you felt so much better. 

Music spilled from the library, light from the Christmas tree filtering gently around the corner. Your slippers barely made a sound on the wood floor as you stepped around the corner. Stopping, you took in the scene in front of you, your heart full. 

Dean was already in the library, lounging in one of the old fashioned leather arm chairs. He had already showered, his hair still damp and plastered to his head. A crystal glass hung carelessly from his fingers, partially filled with his favorite whiskey. He had already started a fire, the glow sending shadows across his face. His feet were bare, a plain white shirt stretched across his shoulders. He was dressed so simply but to you he had never looked better.

A cup of hot chocolate sat on the table beside your chair, filled to the brim with marshmallows. Coming around the chair, you brushed your hand along his shoulder. He barely flinched, his hunter instincts sluggish. “How are you feeling?” You asked him, settling down sideways on his lap, brushing a stray strand of hair away from his face. Keeping your hand on the swell of his chest, you waited for his answer. 

“Like I was hit by a truck,” he winched, shuffling his legs to get comfier. 

“I can move,” you offered, starting to move. His hands clamped down on your waist, holding you in place.

“Don’t you dare,” he insisted, one hand moving up to cover your cheek. “You make it feel better,’ he answered. “Stay.”

Resting your head against his chest, you breathed a sigh of contentment. With the heat from the fire and his body enveloping you, you could feel your eyelids growing heavy. “Love you,” you whispered against his skin, feeling his hand tightening against your waist. 

Dean/Jensen Tags: @acortez82 @acreativelydifferentlove @adoptdontshoppets @a-girl-who-loves-disney @akshi8278   @cap-just-said-language @colette2537   @deansgirl215  @flamencodiva @hamiltrash1411 @its-not-a-tulpa @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @justanotherwinchester @just-another-winchester @karouwinchester @keikoraventeller  @librarygeekery @magssteenkamp @misspygmypie @mlovesstories   @mrspeacem1nusone  @ria132love @ruprecht0420  @screechingartisancashbailiff   @sortaathief @superseejay721517 @squirrelnotsam @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @thoughts-and-funnies @torn-and-frayed @tricksterdean @wonderfulworldofwinchester @woodworthti666 @beabutterfly987  @sexyvixen7 @supernatural3002 @deans-baby-momma @brilovesdeanwinchester @deandreamernp @spngif​

Forever Tags:  @aditimukul​ @alexwinchester23​ @algudaodoce03-blog​ @amanda-teaches​ @andreaaalove​   @artisticpoet​ @atc74​ @be-amaziing​  @cpag7​ @chelsea072498​  @closetspngirl​ @deanwanddamons​ @docharleythegeekqueen​ @emoryhemsworth​ @ericaprice2008​  @esoltis280​   @tatted-trina6​ @foxyjwls007​ @gh0stgurl​ @goldenolaf25​ @growningupgeek​  @heartislubbingdubbing​ @heyitscam99​ @hobby27​ @horsegirly99blog​ @imsuperawkward​ @internationalmusicteacher​   @jayankles​ @jensen-gal​ @justsomedreaming​  @karlee-fay-my-wayward-son​ @linki-locks11​ @littleblue5mcdork​  @lowlyapprentice​   @mersuperwholocked-lowlife​ @mogaruke​ @monkeymcpoopoo​​ @musiclovinchic93​  @nanie5​   @percussiongirl2017​​ @plaid-lover-bay25​​   @roonyxx​​ @ronja-uebrick​​ @roxyspearing​​  @samanddeanmyheroes​​ @sandlee44​​ @shamelesslydean​​ @simonsbluee​​ @sillesworldofwriting​​ @sgarrett49​​ @spnbaby-67​​  @spnwoman​​   @superbadassnatural​​ @thatcrazybookwormgeek​​   @thewinchesterchronicles​​ @valsworldofcreativity​​ @vvinch3st3r​​  @whimsicalrobots​​ @winchester-writes​​ @zombiewerewolfqueen​​ @lyarr24​​ @disneyprincessbuffyannesummers​​ @theamyhead​​ @440mxs-wife​​ @stixnstripesworld​​ @furiouscopshepherduniversity​​ @thelastpyle​

[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.

[cowboyjen68]

hi jen! first off, i love your blog and it definitely helped me realize i’m a femme by helping me realize just how much i love butches. now i’ve been in a relationship with a butch for close to two months and it might be crazy but i can really see myself marrying my butch one day. i never knew i could feel so loved and cared for before i met them. what i wanted to ask you is, what can i do to be a good lover to my butch? is there anything you as a butch would recommend all lovers of butches to do for their honey? i hope you’re having a great day

I pushed away my natural attraction to femmes for fear of being "like a man" or "predatory". Basically I was letting rhetoric from straight and LGBT Communities form my ideas about what butch/femme meant. The myth that butches (or femmes) don't exist outside of their relationship to each other and that is was mimicing Man/Woman roles and societal rules was pushed at me from many angles.

There is absolutely nothing wrong with feeling at our most butch/femme when with each other and gaining stength from our chemistry with each other, both as friends and in romantic situations. There is also no reason to act in ways we are not comfortable JUST to push back against roles that are perceived as "heteronormative". Denying what makes us happy is akin to parents being upset when their son like trucks and rough housing because that makes him "stereotypical". No. It makes him human and people should be able to enjoy what they love without being judges for being stereotypical OR going against the grain.

My last girlfriend (and deepest love of my life) didn't use femme and I didn't care because her connection with me was undeniable and deep. She made me feel loved and wanted and unique.

My first girlfriend was a dyed in the wool strong femme. She tried her best to get me to embrace my butchness and the understand that I was allowed to be protective and do nice things for her while also letting my guard down and being vulnerable in intimate situations. I was not ready.

Here are some of the things that made me feel safe and seen as exactly who I was, a short butch with an outgoing personality and a zest for life and people who deperately wanted to let my passion for women free from supression.

Helping me pick outfits. I am pretty utilitarian in my clothing style. When we had a nice dinner out or a party my last girlfriend would help me pick clothes that looked good on me. Encouraging me to wear a tie or crisp button down. She let me wear my suspenders or a fitted vest and helped me button it up and straighten the seams. It is a miracle we ever made it to dinner when she did that.

Establishing I am hers in public settings, even if no one else noticed. When she would slide her hand on to the small of my back under my coat or flannel and rest it there I would go weak in the knees. Feeling her gentle touch, letting me know she is there with only me was like being drunk on feeling good.

Don't assume sexual roles or bedroom activities are a certain way for your butch. Touch is important to me but vulnerability was hard. Build trust and have some fun but in the privacy of our beds all butch/ femme stereo types should be left out in the cold and what ever brings out mutual passion should be the goal.

Pocket knives, belt buckles, and ugly Christmas sweaters are my favorite gifts. Things she made and frogs or toads she has thrifted are wonderful reminders that she knows me and loves me. She still sends tiny gifts to me because our friendship is strong and for that I am grateful. Figure out what tiny things make her smile or laugh and even bring her out of her comfort zone in a fun way. I wear too tight ugly sweatshirts that she gave me all the time and give no shits as to what other think because they remind me of her.

I am so glad you found love and passion with your butch and are doing your best to honor her as she is. Being a butch woman is never easy out in the world but being butch in a warm and caring home with a loving femme is peak lesbian life.

[jungle-angel]

🌺🎄Mele Kalikimaka🎄 49.

The kids writing letters to Santa

With Bob

I need to see this auggie's letter to Santa pls!

And thanks for the update abt his first drink with Phoenix so excited to hear it!

EEEEEEEEKK!!!! A iā ʻoe nō hoʻi e kuʻu hoaaloha (And to you as well, my friend). Sorry, I had to use translate for that one, I've picked up a little of Hawaiian here and there but definitely not fluent (lol).

December 14th, 2022

Bozeman, MT

"So are you ok picking them up and bringing them home?" Bob asked Jake over FaceTime.

"I've gotta run up that way anyways and grab the girls from school," Jake informed him. "You guys need anything before the storm hits?"

"I might need Evan Williams with extra honey," Bob chuckled. "It's gonna be a long night from the looks of it."

Jake laughed and shook his head before he hung up. Bob stuck his phone back on the charger before he made his way back over to where you were snuggling with Deidre, quietly rocking her to sleep as a movie played in the living room and the wooden rocker creaked a little bit. "Thing's getting kind of old huh?" you chuckled.

"Great-great-grandpa Jacob had it built when he came home after World War One," Bob explained. "Dad was always afraid it was gonna break one of these days but it's sturdy as ever."

You smiled a little bit as Deidre turned her head in a little bit, still asleep with the tip of her little nose brushing against the threads of your sweatshirt and through the layers against your nipple. "Guess our little snow bunny's getting sleepy," Bob remarked, his hand brushing the thin little wisps of blonde hair on her head.

"Let her sleep," you told him. "When Auggie and Patrick come home, she's going upstairs and those two are either gonna hang with their ants and uncles or your mom and dad are gonna come and get'em."

"I already bribed Dad into coming and getting them," Bob chuckled. "The squad on the other hand....."

You laughed a little bit, knowing that Penny and Maverick, Rooster and the rest of the gang already had their hands full with their own little brood of kids. You heard a truck pulling into the driveway and Jake entering the house with Auggie, Patrick and his twin girls.

"Momma!!! Momma!!! Daddy!! We wrote letters to Santa at school today!!" Auggie declared excitedly.

"Oh you did?!" you asked.

It was times like this that you, Bob and the others were relieved beyond words that you had sent the kids to one of those hippie schools that allowed the kids to write letters to Santa and do all of the other things that you and the gang remembered doing as kids......even snowball fights during recess.

Auggie quickly dug his envelope out of his Luke Skywalker backpack and handed it to Bob who carefully opened the envelope and read the letter.

"Dear Santa, please send my Dad two billion dollars and a fighter jet for Christmas," Bob read aloud before you, him and Jake burst into an unexpected bout of laughter.

"And please help me find my pet iguana, his name is 'Chicken Nugget, but we call him Nugget sometimes," Bob continued on, wiping away a tear from his eye. "I think he ate too many of Mimi's brownies, got fat and couldn't get out the dog door. Please help us find Chicken Nugget if you see him. P.S, my brother Patrick wants some roast beef, a chicken, a pizza......"

You guys could hardly contain your laughter, even as you carried Deidre back up the stairs to quickly put her in her crib. When you came back down, Jake and Bob were all practically in stitches.

"Think this is worth sending to the others?" Jake asked.

"Oh believe me it'll be worth it," Bob answered. "And just so you know, we're showing these to the kids when they go off to college."

[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.

[sofipitch]

Just pick the most tasteless expensive things possible. I have never met a rich person, old or new money, who had good taste that was uniquely their own.

Skgsgjdjgdgjzjg TRUE

I'm mean so I guess I'll share this, my cousin was wearing a hideous sweatshirt to Christmas breakfast. He is really into designer brands and is launching his own with daddy's money (the side I'm not related to ofc lmao) (also how his dad gets his money? He owns a boutique in a big city, buys designer clothes that are like excess or haven't sold well for pennies in another city, flies his stock back down to his city, resells for regular designer prices, he makes a killing 💀)

Here is the sweatshirt in question:

Looking at other clothes on this website this shirt they ran over with a truck a couple times has to be ~$200 (it's out of stock so idk)

I wasn't there for the beginning of the convo but I overheard my cousin saying he hadn't known Warszawa is the capital of Poland, a fellow student told him, he had just bought the sweat shirt thinking it was a nonsense word 🫠🫠🫠

Anyways I'd like to believe none of my blorbos are that dumb (although if the city name was somewhere not in Europe or just even farther east it would probably have the same result 😂😭)