#I hope I tagged you right for this big thing

[keeryhours]

thankful - rafe cameron

Baby daddy! Rafe x Baby mama! Maybank! Reader

Masterlist

Rafe Cameron Masterlist

More Baby daddy! Rafe

Summary:

You, Rafe, and Iris spend Thanksgiving with the Camerons.

Request: “maybe baby daddy rafe and y/n spend thanksgiving together as a fam? With some smut? 🤭”

Warnings:

Smut (18+), p in v, fingering, dirty talk, semi-public sex, Rafe has a slight breeding kink and refers to himself as daddy 🙃

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N:

I seriously get so excited when you guys request things, and this one is so timely! I went back in time for this one, so hopefully that’s okay. I hope you enjoy! I’m so glad you guys are loving this series <3 Requests are still open and if you’ve already sent one, I’ll be getting to it!

Let me know if you want to be on the tag list :)

@sabrina-carpenter-stan-account

—

“You look beautiful.”

That was the first thing Rafe said when you opened the door on Thanksgiving, ready to ride with him to eat dinner with the Camerons. You had dressed in a slightly oversized sage green sweater and a short black skirt with heeled boots. His eyes trailed over your body.

“Thank you,” you blushed. “You look good yourself, Cameron.”

A smile lit up his handsome face. And he did look really nice. Rafe wore a dark gray button up with khaki slacks, the sleeves of his shirt hugging his biceps deliciously.

“Where’s my girl?” he asked. You were honestly surprised that wasn’t the first thing out of his mouth.

“JJ has her,” you explained, thumb pointing over your shoulder. “He’s getting her in the car seat.”

Rafe followed you into the house and into the living room, where JJ was just finishing up tightening the straps of Iris’ seat. “All set, pretty girl,” JJ announced to the baby, ignoring Rafe’s presence.

Iris cooed happily at her uncle. She was days away from turning 6 months old, just beginning to learn to sit up on her own. Her eyes lit up when she caught sight of Rafe, and she squealed.

Rafe grinned widely, practically pushing JJ out of the way as he walked up to the seat and crouched to be eye level with his daughter. “Hi, baby girl,” he greeted her, holding out his hand and letting her wrap her tiny hand around his finger. “You ready for your first Cameron Thanksgiving?”

Iris blew bubbles at him, which he took for a yes as he laughed. Iris was dressed in a brown Thanksgiving-themed dress, white tights on her chubby legs to help keep her warm. She had a matching bow in her light brown hair. Her big blue eyes looked right into her father’s matching ones.

Rafe stood, picking up the infant carrier. “Ready to go?” he asked you, and you nodded in confirmation.

Rafe was already out the door and on the way to his truck. JJ gave you a hug before you followed after him. He was baby talking to Iris as he locked her seat into the base. He turned as you approached, a smile on his face.

“Both my girls look stunning today,” he said as he closed the truck door. “I’m a lucky guy.”

You blushed deeply as you both climbed into your sides of the vehicle - you hadn’t officially been Rafe’s girl in a long time, but he seemed to have no intentions of dropping the nickname.

You felt a little nervous on the drive over. It’s not like you weren’t incredibly familiar with the Camerons, but it also felt like a big deal. This was your first Thanksgiving together as a family (well, kind of), and you felt the pressure of it. Not that Iris would care how things went, she’d never remember it obviously, but you would, and you wanted the evening to go well, for the day to be special.

Rafe pulled into the long driveway of Tannyhill, the gorgeous Cameron estate that you had admired your whole life. You used to be incredibly jealous when you were younger, truthfully. You and JJ had a rough home life with an abusive father, so you both spent much of your childhoods dreaming of something better. Tannyhill made frequent appearances in your fantasies. So did Rafe.

At the time, you felt you could never admit your crush on the eldest Cameron to anyone, especially not your best friend Sarah. Because how lame would that have been for you to admit to crushing on her jerk of a big brother? It’s funny how things worked out in the end. You had dated Rafe secretly for a while, but when it came out (awkwardly, with Sarah walking in on you two in a very compromising position), you realized you had worried for nothing because Sarah actually loved the two of you together. She said you brought out the best in Rafe. For a while, at least.

You smoothed your skirt as you climbed out of the truck, watching Rafe retrieve the car seat from the back. You walked side by side to the house, nerves buzzing in your stomach.

The smell of the house hits you immediately - it smells delicious. Your mouth practically waters as you take in the smell of the different foods waiting in the dining room. You hadn’t realized how hungry you were.

The Cameron family greeted you warmly when the three of you walked into the dining room. Ward and Rose both gave you a big hug, followed by Sarah launching herself into your arms and an attack by a nearly-as-excited Wheezie.

You were nothing compared to the little girl bundled in her seat, though. Rafe watched on with a proud smile as his family crowded around the carrier, baby talking to Iris. Ward is the one who unbuckles her and lifts her from her carrier first, holding her to his chest and looking like the proud grandpa he is while the others crowd around. It leaves you feeling warm inside.

The food was already spread across the large table. A huge selection - a perfect looking turkey, mashed potatoes, macaroni and cheese, green bean casserole, any Thanksgiving food you could dream of was prepared to perfection and displayed on the Cameron’s dining table.

When it was time to eat, you took a seat next to Rafe. Iris had a high chair set up for her, but she spent the meal bouncing from lap to lap. The conversation is comfortable and you find yourself laughing through most of the meal. The food is as delicious as it smelled, and you happily eat as much of it as you can.

After dinner, a football game is turned on the huge TV in the living room. Ward retired with a drink in hand to watch, while Wheezie lounged on the couch and Sarah joined Rose in the kitchen, Iris on her hip.

You stood, about to join the girls in the kitchen, when you felt large hands making themselves at home on your waist, warm breath against your ear.

“Let’s sneak off somewhere,” Rafe whispered in your ear, sending goosebumps across your skin.

“Rafe…” you scolded, turning around to look at him. “We can’t. And we’re literally surrounded by your family-“

“We can,” he interrupted you, hands wandering along your sides, around to grab onto your ass. “C‘mon…”

He grabbed onto your hand and pulled on it, a mischievous smile on his handsome face. You looked around, making sure no one was paying any attention to you. Rafe knew you would give in, but the delight on his face when you move your feet to follow after him is unmatched.

He pulls you down the hall to one of the downstairs bathrooms, quickly pulling you inside and locking the door behind you as you flip on the light switch. You barely have time to take in your surroundings before Rafe’s pressing you up against the door, his lips on yours in a hungry kiss.

Rafe’s hands explored every inch of your body he could reach, tracing over your curves, moaning into your mouth as he grabbed your ass again before sliding his hands beneath the hem of your skirt.

“Rafe…” you breathed out against his lips, head going dizzy already from the way he was already everywhere all over you at once.

“You’re gonna have to be quiet for me, baby,” he mumbled, fingers pushing your panties to the side, rubbing against your already throbbing clit. You gasped, eyes falling shut. “Can you do that?”

“Yes,” you promised him, desperate for him to just keep going. You’d do anything as long as he didn’t stop.

Rafe pushed a finger into your entrance, making your head fall back against the door with a thud as your mouth fell open. He began to pump his finger in and out of your tight heat while you tried to keep your legs from collapsing.

“So tight…” Rafe commented as he added a second finger, readying you to take him. “Been missin’ me?”

“I’ve missed you so much,” you confessed easily, causing Rafe to chuckle as he placed kisses along your jaw. He had you losing your mind on nothing but two of his fingers and a few kisses - you never stood a chance with Rafe.

“I’ve missed you too, baby,” he said lowly, mouth moving to your neck to suck and bite along all the sensitive spots he knows by heart.

He used his palm to rub against your clit as he continued to thrust his fingers into your pussy, curling them deep inside to hit that perfect spot that nearly had you collapsing onto the floor if it wasn’t for Rafe’s strong arm around your waist. You let yourself melt into him as he expertly took you apart.

“Gonna cum on my fingers, baby?” he asked, already knowing the answer from the feeling of your walls clenching around him in the most familiar way.

“‘m so close…” you mumbled, head falling forward onto Rafe’s shoulder. He laughed at how weak you became for him, and how easy it was for him to get you there. He couldn’t get enough.

He thrusted his fingers faster, making sure to press against that perfect spot with every push inside. Your legs trembled, whole body electric as you grabbed onto Rafe for dear life, biting down on his shoulder to stifle your moans as your release rocked through you intensely. Your cunt spasmed around his fingers as he worked you through it, mumbling whispers of “Good girl, that’s it, fall apart for me, cum all over my fingers pretty girl, that’s fuckin’ right…”

Rafe didn’t even care about your teeth digging into his shoulder, like he barely even noticed it. He pulled out of you slowly and you whined, a cocky smirk growing across his face as he brought his fingers to his mouth and sucked them clean with a groan. “Still so sweet, baby.”

“Rafe, I need you,” you begged, legs hardly able to hold your weight as you leaned against the bathroom door. You felt pretty pathetic right now.

“Yeah? You still need my cock even after you just came all over my fingers?” Rafe asked, eyes darkened with lust as he grabbed your waist and roughly positioned you to lean over the countertop. “Greedy little cunt.” He smacked your ass hard, making you jump and stifle a moan with your hand.

You watched in the mirror as Rafe pulled your skirt up around your waist, harshly pulling your panties down your legs and stuffing them in his pocket. His eyes met yours in the mirror, mischievous smirk on his lips.

His hands quickly undid his belt and slacks, pushing both his pants and boxers down just enough to free his throbbing cock. You wanted to turn around and get a good look at it - it had been a minute since you’d seen it, but you could never forget how nice it is - but Rafe had you pinned to the counter.

He gave his already rock hard length a couple quick pumps as his other hand rested on your hip, rubbing circles into the skin. He took the time to take in the view before him - his favorite view. You all bent over for him, pussy soaking wet and spread wide for him to fuck however he pleased. He couldn’t take it anymore.

He lined himself up at your entrance, thick cockhead pressing against you eagerly, precum smeared across his tip. His eyes met yours in the mirror.

“You started that birth control, yeah?” he asked, but he was pretty sure he was about to fuck you raw no matter what your answer was.

“Yeah,” you confirmed, pushing your hips back against him. “Been on it for a few weeks. We’re good.”

Rafe didn’t think he could have stopped himself either way, but he felt relieved as he pushed his hips forward, tip breaching your tight hole. You watched his face in the mirror as he slowly filled you, his face completely contorted in pleasure. His brow was furrowed, mouth hanging open as he let out a low, quiet groan, trying his best to hold onto his restraint and not alert the entire household to what you were up to.

His hands dug into your hips harshly as he bottomed out inside of you. His own thighs were trembling, he couldn’t believe the way your pussy was holding onto him, squeezing his cock perfectly like you were made to take him.

“Good, baby?” He gritted out, looking into your eyes in your reflection. You nodded frantically.

“Yeah, baby, want you to fuck me,” you begged.

Rafe let out another quiet groan at your words - fuck, he felt like you would be the absolute death of him sometimes - but it’s exactly what he wanted to hear as he drags his hips back painfully slowly before snapping back into you.

You smack a hand over your mouth just in time for him to thrust back in, the strangled moan that escaped your lips blessedly muffled by your hand. Rafe chuckled darkly, setting a quick pace as he fucked into your tight cunt from behind.

Your free hand gripped onto the side of the counter for some kind of stability. You felt completely at his mercy, your body utterly weak and held up only by the counter beneath you and Rafe’s rough hold on your hips as he pulled your body back against his ruthless thrusts.

“Fuck, yeah, take it,” Rafe grunted out quietly, unable to keep his dirty mouth from running even when you were very much at risk of getting caught. His eyes fluttered closed as his hips snapped into you at a frantic, near desperate pace.

You felt another orgasm building inside as he fucked you just right, cock hitting that same perfect spot with every movement. Rafe leaned over you, placing kisses all over your shoulders and getting close enough to hear the breathy whines and moans he was pulling from your chest.

“Sound so pretty like that…” he huffed, hands sliding up under your sweater to grab at your tits. He impulsively pulled the sweater over your head, messing your hair up in the process before dropping it to the bathroom floor. “Need to see you,” is all the explanation you get. He unclasped your bra to free your naked chest to his hungry eyes. God, how he loved your tits. Especially since having a baby - they were perfect before, but now they’d nearly doubled in size and Rafe was obsessed.

He watched them bounce as he fucked you, the sight pushing him closer and closer to his own release. He wrapped his hands around them, squeezing and playing with your nipples, making you let out the most delicious whines whenever he’d pinch at them. You wished he had taken his shirt off so you could see his gorgeous chest, the way his ab muscles would flex as he pounded into you, biceps contracting as he pulled your body against his own.

“Feels so good, Rafe,” you moaned quietly, wanting to let him know how good he was making you feel, how good he always was to you. “I love your cock.”

Rafe groaned. “I know you do, baby.” He picked up his pace, thrusting into you even harder as he felt both of your releases approaching rapidly. “I love this perfect pussy, she’s always so good for me…”

Rafe’s hands went back to your hips as he started chasing his release, the power and speed of his thrusts sending shockwaves through your body, and shoving you up against the counter so hard you were sure you’d have bruises all over tomorrow. “‘m close again, baby…” you whined.

Rafe removed his right hand from your hip and wrapped his arm around your body, fingers going right for your swollen clit to rub quick, precise circles. “Cum for me again, baby, please, wanna feel you cum all over my cock, just for daddy, please baby girl-“

The combination of his words and his actions violently shoved you over the edge, your mouth dropping open and eyes rolling back as it crashed through you for the second time, but infinitely more intense. Your pussy clenched around his girth over and over as you chanted his name into your own hand, ecstasy coursing through your body like a drug.

Your body practically dragged Rafe into his own release and he leaned over to bury his face in your neck as he came hard, filling you up with his load as he continued to slowly pump his hips through his orgasm while you pulsed around him. “Jesus baby, holy fuck…” You hear his muffled voice against your skin, feel his shaking body laying on top of you.

You both took a minute to calm down before Rafe was pulling out of you, leaving you feeling much more empty than before. He stepped back and admired his work, fingers collecting his release that had dripped out of you and pushing it back inside, making you tremble.

“Don’t want to waste a drop, baby,” he said with that cocky grin back on his face. You’d both made sure to always use protection any time you hooked up since Iris was born, but at the same time Rafe loved the idea of filling you up, the idea of you potentially giving him another perfect baby.

Rafe tucked himself back into his pants as you tried your best to compose yourself, pulling your clothes back on and trying to make them look like they hadn’t just been on the floor and shoved around your waist. He wiped the sweat from his forehead as he watched you.

“I’m glad you came,” he said. You raised an eyebrow at his reflection in the mirror. “To dinner,” he clarified, an amused glint in his eyes.

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head at him. You fussed with your hair, trying your hardest to not leave this bathroom looking freshly fucked. “How do I always let you pull me into these situations?”

“It’s because you can’t resist me,” he said, hands trailing up and down your sides. He squeezed your hips one last time before he pulled away.

“I’m gonna head back out there so we don’t walk out of here together. You take your time.” He leaned forward and pressed a kiss against your lips, then smacked your ass hard before he slipped out the door.

You sighed to your own reflection. Your hair had been thoroughly ruined, lipstick a little smudged. You did your best to pull yourself back together before you exited the bathroom and rejoined the Camerons, who were all gathered in the living room now, Rafe included, Iris on his lap.

“Where have you two been?” Ward asked, completely oblivious. “You missed half the game,” he directed towards Rafe.

Rafe’s eyes darted to yours, smirk still on his lips as he took a sip of his beer. You were grateful you were saved from having to answer when one of whatever teams were playing scored a touchdown, stealing Ward’s attention away entirely.

You didn’t miss the knowing look Sarah gave you, before she rolled her eyes and shook her head with a laugh. You felt your cheeks heating.

When Rafe brought you home, Iris had already passed out. She slept soundly in her car seat as Rafe drove through the dark island, music playing softly from the truck’s speakers to not disturb her rest.

He reached a hand over and rested it on your thigh. You stared at his hand, unsure what to do, until you dropped your hand atop his and interlinked your fingers together. Rafe smiled, looking more content than you’d seen him for most of his life.

“Seriously, thank you for coming,” he said as he put the truck in park in your driveway. He still held your hand as he turned to look at you. “I know it’s still weird, trying to figure out how to…do things, how to…co-parent. But I’m glad we can get along and be a family without her having to be with one or the other.”

You smiled softly at the sincerity in his words. “I’m glad, too. I had a good time.”

Rafe smirked at you then. “Yeah? You had a good time with me?”

You felt yourself blushing - you had meant the whole event, but admittedly that had been the best part. “Yeah. Tons of fun.”

Rafe laughed as he leaned in and pressed a kiss against your lips. The biggest part of you loved it, still cherished every opportunity to be affectionate with Rafe, to feel any part of him, to be close to him. But a small part of you wished he wouldn’t do things like this anymore because all it did was confuse feelings and make things complicated all over again. You didn’t like the way your heart fluttered in your chest as your ex boyfriend kissed you in the darkness of his truck.

When he pulled away, he looked at you like he could tell what you were thinking about. He looked almost apologetic, although he didn’t regret it. He never regretted the things you did together.

“I’ll see you this weekend,” you told him, knowing it’s Rafe’s weekend with your daughter.

He nodded. “I’ll be here. Do you want me to carry her inside?”

You thought about it. You didn’t want to inconvenience him, but that carrier was heavy as hell now that she had grown so much. “Yeah, that would be good.”

Rafe hopped out of the truck without a complaint, reaching into the backseat to unlock her carrier and lift it from the car seat base. He followed you to the door as you let the three of you inside.

JJ was gone, spending Thanksgiving with the pogues. You had planned to go, too, before Rafe asked you about spending the holiday with his family. You felt a little bad that you didn’t get to spend it with your twin brother, but you knew he understood and probably didn’t even care.

Rafe carefully unbuckled his sleeping daughter from her seat. She snuggled into his chest and he rested his large hand on her back, rocking her gently so she’d stay asleep. You trailed after him as he walked to the nursery and laid her in her crib.

Back in the hallway with Iris’ bedroom door closed, you both stood there awkwardly for a minute.

“JJ probably isn’t coming back tonight,” you blurted out, not even sure why you said it.

But Rafe’s face lit up, eyes shining with mischief. “Yeah? You’re alone for the night?”

You blushed, looking down at your feet to work up the courage for what you say next. “I don’t have to spend it alone.”

Rafe’s smirk only grew as he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into him as you giggled. His lips came down to press against yours again, and you didn’t care about your relationship status, or whether you belonged together, or how much you loved him despite telling yourself you didn’t. All that mattered was that he was here now, and he was yours for the night.

You were thankful for that, at least.

[schemmentigfs]

Sweetening The Deal. (part 4.)

Summary: you learn more about the mysterious fiery redhead and things start to change..

Tags: @lisaannwaltersbra @italianaidiota @greencurlyhair @schmentisgf @dopenightmaretyphoon @pitstopsapphic

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3.

Settling into the passenger seat of Melissa’s sleek car, you tried to calm the flutter in your chest. The entire morning felt surreal—first being invited to stay in her luxurious penthouse, then getting a full tour of her space, and now… a personal shopping trip with Melissa Schemmenti herself deciding everything for your upcoming change of pace on life. You cast a shy glance her way as she adjusted her orange sunglasses, already focused on the road with that steady, unruffled confidence that always seemed to surround her.

Seconds later, the engine hummed to life as she pulled out onto the streets of Center City Philadelphia. The redhead woman had one hand on the wheel, the other resting casually on the center console, close enough that you could almost—almost—reach out and take it.

But you didn’t. The fear was too strong.

The drive was smooth, and for a moment, the silence between you felt almost too comfortable. You stole another glance at her as she focused on the traffic, her olive eyes hidden behind those pairs of designer sunglasses. She looked so effortless, so polished. Every detail about her—her crisp, tailored blazer, the way her auburn hair caught the sunlight—seemed intimidatingly perfect. You fidgeted with your hands, unsure of how to break the silence.

You hadn’t expected to feel so nervous. After all, you were just on your way to the mall to pick up a few things. It wasn’t a big deal. But the truth was, ever since that dream—that pornographic dream—you hadn’t been able to look at her the same way. You wouldn’t. You’d never told her about it. It was too embarrassing, too raw. She didn’t need to know, not when things between you two had been just fine as it should be. Right?

The images were still too vivid in your mind. The way her grunts sounded in your ear, the soft pressure of her lips against your skin while her hands had gripped you, steady and strong, the feel of her clit sliding against yours. And then, somehow, that moment had shifted—becoming more intense, more dangerous. The vivid image of Melissa in her bedroom, her pale body stretched out in front of you, her ass glowing under the dim lighting of the room. You tried to suppress the memory, but it lingered like an unwanted guest, haunting you every time you tried to look at her.

The silence stretched on, and finally, you cleared your throat, gathering the nerve to ask her something, anything at all, that might distract you from the thoughts that haunted and terrorized you.

“So… what do you do for living?” you asked, your voice soft but hopeful. “When you were on your way to my apartment complex, you said something about meetings?”

Her fingers curled slightly around the wheel as she gave you a quick glance, just a flicker behind those sunglasses, before returning her attention to the road. “You’re looking at it,” she said, her voice clipped and cold, as if the answer should have been obvious. “When I’m not being some bratty kid’s sugar mama, I work in real estate. I manage a few properties. Very high-end stuff.”

“Oh, that’s—” you trailed off, unsure if you’d be bothering her by asking more and honestly, you felt a bit annoyed by the way she referred to you as a brat. Her responses were so curt, almost as if she was reluctant to share even the basics, and still here she was, driving you around, letting you stay in her penthouse, arranging this shopping trip. “Cool..”

“If you say so... I guess that’s one way to put it,” she sighed quietly.

You took another deep breath, hoping to calm your nerves, and tried again. “What about… hobbies? Do you have any of ‘em?”

Melissa snorted, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. “I got hobbies.” She paused, glancing your way briefly before continuing in a tone that seemed half-reluctant. “I like to smoke. Cigars, mostly. Relaxing as hell after dealing with some motherfuckers at business meetings. And, uh, I watch Real Housewives sometimes. It’s a guilty pleasure, alright?” She smirked, but you could tell there was no real embarrassment there. She wore her quirks with confidence, her own unique brand of unapologetic pride.

“We all have guilty pleasures, Schemmenti,” you pointed out, feeling more comfortable. “What else?”

“I go to church sometimes,” the redhead added, softening a bit, turning distant. “Not every week, but, y’know… enough.” Her words seemed to falter, like there was something there she wasn’t quite saying. She swallowed, adjusting her sunglasses as she spoke, her tone strangely vulnerable. “Goin’ there, it helps me… forgive. Or try to, anyway.” She let out a small, humorless laugh, as if forgiveness wasn’t exactly something she found easy to come by.

The shift in her tone made your chest tighten. You wanted to ask what Melissa Schemmenti needed to forgive—or whom—but something in the features stopped you. Instead, you just nodded, letting her know you were listening, taking in each layer of herself she offered, even if she didn’t realize it.

And then, just as quickly as it had started, she fell silent. Her words ceased, and the hum of the road filled the gap. It was as if the conversation had taken a sudden detour, one that left you both in the moment of reflection. You could see her green eyes flicker to the rearview mirror, not really looking at anything but maybe thinking about everything.

She shifted in her seat, straightening her posture a little, but there was something new in her body language—a subtle withdrawal, almost like she was pulling back from herself. It was an instinct you knew too well, the way people guarded themselves after they’d shared something too raw. Melissa was never one to open up lightly. But now she seemed to be processing something else, something she hadn’t said yet. You wanted to reach out, to break the silence, but you hesitated. Something in the stillness of the moment felt important.

You couldn’t help but notice the way her hands tightened around the wheel, the tension in her shoulders, and the soft furrow between her brows. Her reflection in the mirror showed someone more guarded than she’d been a moment ago, as if the vulnerability she’d offered just a moment ago had been too much to bear. It wasn’t just her words she’d closed off—it was her entire presence.

Melissa didn’t speak again, but you felt it—the shift. And you couldn’t help but wonder what had caused it, what hidden part of her she was wrestling with now.

You glanced out the window, trying to steady your thoughts as the car moved through the city streets. As you sat there, trying to distract yourself from the whirlwind of thoughts swirling in your mind, another thought crept in—one you hadn’t dared to voice. You hadn't really thought about it until now, but the more you focused on the silence between you, the more you realized that you'd never seen much of the Schemmentis around.

Her penthouse was immaculate—every surface polished, every corner filled with the sharp edges of modern luxury—but there were hardly any family pictures, no casual snapshots of her childhood or moments with relatives. Sure, there were photos of friends, some from vacations or casual nights out, but when it came to her family, it was almost like a void. That lack of familial presence was... strange, especially considering how many photos of her with some of the Schemmentis were across the internet.

You found yourself wanting to ask, but hesitation gnawed at you. Was it inappropriate to ask about her family? Did it make her uncomfortable? You tried to imagine how she’d respond—whether she’d offer an easy, casual answer or if it would send her retreating into that unapproachable shell she sometimes slipped into. Maybe she didn't want to talk about them, and maybe you shouldn't pry.

But you couldn’t help it. Curiosity gnawed at you like an itch you couldn’t scratch. You wanted to know more about the redhead—the parts of her life she hadn’t yet shared, the side of her that wasn’t just the successful, confident woman you’d come to know.

The absence of family mementos seemed deliberate, almost as if she were keeping her history behind some invisible line you weren’t allowed to cross. You’d heard her mention her family here and there during one of your meetings to arrange your sugar mommy deal—her Italian heritage—but nothing in detail. And the one time she had let something slip, she’d quickly clammed up, her face shifting to that same, unreadable mask she wore now.

But why?

Did she have siblings? Were her parents close? Had she grown up in a family like the one she’d created for herself—one that seemed full of strength, but also a quiet kind of distance?

You turned your gaze out the window again, pretending to focus on the passing scenery, but your mind raced through all the questions you couldn’t ask. The truth was, there was something deeply personal about the idea of her family—or lack of it—that had piqued your interest more than you were comfortable admitting.

What kind of upbringing had made her the way she was? And why had she chosen to leave so little of that behind in her penthouse? Your thoughts spiraled, pulling you deeper into that place of uncertainty and wonder, your chest tightening as you realized just how much you wanted to know.

You felt guilty for even thinking about asking. It wasn't like you had any right to her history, and maybe it wasn’t fair to put her on the spot like that. So you kept quiet, watching her as she drove, her face set and unreadable.

Still, the curiosity lingered.

“Melissa,” you started again, your voice softer than you intended. “You mentioned Pearl earlier. I didn’t realize she’d been around that long.”

“Yeah, she’s been a part of the family for years. Practically helped raise us—me and my siblings. Eight siblings, yeah. Big Italian family—South Philly’s finest.”

You nodded, glancing down to your lap to avoid her gaze. “Eight siblings… that’s a lot. Must’ve been a full house.”

Melissa let out a soft scoff. “You could say that. It was chaos, pure and simple. We weren’t exactly living in luxury back then. Half of us had to share a room.”

The idea surprised you, though you supposed it shouldn’t have. The woman beside you was successful now, living in a penthouse and offering you a fresh start, but she hadn’t always been here. You couldn’t imagine her any other way, though—fierce, determined, always in control. It was… comforting. Attractive, even.

You bit your lip, realizing you were staring, and quickly turned your gaze back to the road ahead. “I guess it taught you to be tough?”

She chuckled, though there wasn’t much warmth in it. “You don’t survive in a house like that without learning a thing or two.” She paused, then cast you a quick look, her expression softening just a fraction. “I don’t talk about my family much, you know. Or my fuckin’ past.”

Her honesty caught you off guard, and you felt a strange sense of privilege knowing she was sharing even this much with you. “Thank you for sharing,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

Melissa waved it off as if it were nothing, but the way she looked at you made your heart skip. “Enough about me,” she scoffed, her tone firm but not unkind. “Today’s about you. We’re going to get you set up properly—starting with a wardrobe overhaul.”

You couldn’t help but smile at that, though your cheeks felt warm. “I don’t think I need that much—”

Green eyes shot you a look, one brow raised. “I’m not taking no for an answer, brat. You’re with me now, so we’re doing this my way.” She glanced at you again, her lips quirking into a smirk. “Besides, I like spoiling you, you little shit.”

Ignoring the last words, your heart fluttered at the way she said it, so casually, like it was the most natural thing in the world. And then, before you could think too much about it, she leaned over at a red light and pressed a kiss to your cheek.

You froze, heat flooding your face as her lips lingered for just a second longer than necessary. When she pulled back, her gaze was steady, almost challenging, as if daring you to react. But words seemed to stick in your throat, and all you could do was stare at her, wide-eyed and flustered.

“Cat got your tongue?” Melissa teased pressing a hand on your thighs, the corners of her mouth twitching in amusement.

“N-No, I just… wasn’t expecting that,” you stammered, cursing yourself for sounding so awkward.

“Get used to it, honey. Mama’s got a habit of getting what she wants.”

The rest of the drive passed in a haze, each kiss she placed on your cheek or forehead leaving you breathless and aching to feel her plump lips on yours. You wondered if she could tell, if she noticed the way your hands fidgeted in your lap or the way your gaze kept flickering to her lips when you thought she wasn’t looking. But if she did, she didn’t say a word.

When you finally arrived at the mall, Melissa led you inside with a hand on the small of your back, her presence steady and grounding. You were still a little dazed, still reeling from every soft touch and lingering look she’d given you in the car.

The mall was bustling, but with Melissa by your side, you felt a strange sense of calm. Or maybe it was just that her confidence had a way of rubbing off on you, making you feel like you belonged, like you deserved to be here with her. She guided you through the maze of stores, her hand warm and reassuring on your back, and you tried not to think about how natural it felt, how right.

As you walked, she glanced at you, a thoughtful look in her green eyes. “We’re going to find something that suits you. Something… fitting.” She stopped in front of a high-end boutique, her tongue clicking as she turned to you. “Because from now on, you’re mine. And I want you to look like it.”

Your mouth went dry, and you felt your heart skip a beat at her words. Hers. The idea made your stomach flutter in a way you couldn’t quite describe.

“Y-Yours?” you stammered.

Melissa smirked, looking at you with a mixture of amusement and satisfaction. “That’s right. My property, my rules.” There was an unmistakable edge of possessiveness in her voice, one that left you feeling both nervous and exhilarated.

You swallowed, your cheeks burning as you nodded, unable to find the words to respond. But She didn’t seem to mind. She simply took your hand and led you inside, guiding you through racks of designer clothes with an expert eye.

“What about this?” the redhead prompted, holding up a sleek black dress, her gaze assessing as she looked you over.

You fidgeted, feeling self-conscious under her scrutiny. “It’s… nice.”

Melissa raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by your lack of enthusiasm. “Nice isn’t good enough. You’re going to try it on. And a few other things, too.”

Before you could protest, she had already gathered a small pile of clothes and was steering you toward the fitting rooms. Her hand was warm on your back, her presence reassuring even as she pushed you a little out of your comfort zone.

Inside the fitting room, you tried on each piece she’d picked out, feeling more and more like a different person with each outfit. The clothes were sleek, sophisticated, a far cry from the simple, practical pieces you usually wore. But when you looked at yourself in the mirror, you couldn’t help but feel… good. Confident, even.

Melissa seemed to sense it, too. Each time you stepped out to show her an outfit, she looked you up and down with a smile that was equal parts approval and pride. “Now this,” she said, adjusting the collar of a suit you were wearing, her fingers brushing against your collarbone. “This is what I’m talking about.”

Her hand lingered for a moment, her touch sending a thrill through you that left you breathless. And then, without warning, she leaned in and pressed a kiss to your nose, soft and warm against your skin. The act was quick but enough to make you widen your eyes.

“Perfect,” she murmured. “You look perfect.”

You felt your cheeks heat up, and you ducked your head, trying to hide the smile that tugged at your lips. But the Schemmenti woman wasn’t having it. She tipped your chin up with a gentle finger, her gaze intense as she looked at you.

“Don’t hide,” she spoke softly. “I want to see that smile.”

You couldn’t help it; you smiled, a soft, shy smile that felt a little too vulnerable, a little too real. But Melissa just smiled back, her gaze warm and unwavering.

“Good girl,” she murmured, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Now, let’s go pick out some accessories. Can’t have you looking half-done, can we?”

“No, ma'am,”

You followed her out of the fitting room, feeling a strange mix of excitement and nervousness. Each touch, each lingering look left you feeling more and more like you were on the edge of something—something you couldn’t quite name, but something you wanted more than anything. And as you walked by her side, her hand resting on your lower back, you realized that maybe, just maybe, you were already hers in more ways than you could admit.

As you followed Melissa through the boutique, your mind was still buzzing with the strange excitement and nervousness from her words. You had tried on a few outfits by now, each one more elegant and polished than the last. But something about the idea of being hers lingered in the back of your mind, making your pulse race and your hands tremble ever so slightly.

“Let’s check out the lingerie section,” the green eyed woman suggest, smooth and confident as she steered you toward a secluded corner of the store. The racks here were lined with delicate lace, silk, and satin, all in a rainbow of colors. But it was the deep purple set that caught your eye first.

It was beautiful—luxurious and eye-catching, a perfect shade of rich purple with intricate lace detailing, the kind of lingerie that made you feel like you were stepping into a world of indulgence. You reached out for it, running your fingers over the smooth fabric. The soft, luxurious material felt like a secret, something that belonged to you alone.

The older woman noticed your interest right away. Her gaze flickered to the set, then to you, and the corner of her mouth curled into a knowing smirk.

“Like what you see?”

You felt your heart race as you nodded, a small, awkward laugh escaping your lips. “It’s... it’s gorgeous.”

“Good,” she murmured, taking the set from your hands with ease. “I think you’d look perfect in it. And, if I’m being honest, I’m not just buying you clothes... I’m making sure you're well taken care of in every way.”

You swallowed, the intensity in her voice making your stomach flip. You tried to compose yourself, but it wasn’t easy. The idea of her buying you something so intimate felt overwhelming in the best possible way.

Without waiting for you to respond, Melissa walked to the register, the purple lingerie in her hands like it was already meant for you. She turned over her shoulder as she moved, her expression softening. “Don’t worry,” she added, “you’ll wear it for me soon enough.”

“What?”

You couldn’t help but shiver at her words, a heat flooding your body at the thought of her seeing you in it, touching you in it.

At the register, Melissa didn’t hesitate. She handed over the lingerie set along with a few other items, her face unreadable but her eyes glinting with something you couldn’t quite place.

When she came back to you, the shopping bag in hand, she gave you a little wink. “You’re gonna love it. And so will I.”

You didn’t trust yourself to speak. Your mind was still reeling from the intensity of the moment, from the way she made you feel like you were hers in ways you hadn’t even fully understood. The thought of wearing it for her, of being the person she chose to spoil and take care of, sent a jolt through you, and you weren’t sure if it was nervousness, excitement, or something else entirely.

But as Melissa led you back toward the exit of the boutique, her hand once again gently resting on your lower back, you couldn’t help but feel grateful, in awe of her confidence, her ability to make you feel seen and wanted in ways you’d never experienced before.

As you both made your way to the door, the weight of the shopping bags in your hands seemed to make the moment feel heavier, more real. Your nerves, still buzzing, didn't help the heat in your cheeks from all the attention Melissa had been showering on you. You could feel the weight of the purple lingerie in your bag like a secret, a promise, and it made your heart thud in your chest.

But then, as you approached the car, you hesitated. Your fingers clenched around the strap of the bag, and for a moment, you couldn’t tell if you were excited or terrified. You glanced up at her, who was busy unlocking the car, her back to you.

The way she’d spoken earlier, the way she took control, was almost too much to process. And then, as if sensing the shift in your mood, she turned to face you, her eyes narrowing slightly as she took in your lost expression.

Her face softened as she noticed the hesitation in your steps, but her voice dropped into something more serious. “What’s wrong? You’ve been quiet since we left the store, sweetheart.”

“I-”

You opened your mouth to respond, but nothing came out. You felt as though something was building inside you, a storm of emotions that you couldn’t quite name. The purple lingerie, her touch, the overwhelming sense of being wanted in ways you didn’t know you could be—it was all too much to process.

But before you could speak, Melissa raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a teasing but commanding smirk. Suddenly, she stopped walking. Her hand shot out, gripping your wrist with an unexpected firmness, pulling you gently but decisively toward her.

“Tell me. What are you doing?”

Instead of answering, you stood there, caught between the pull of her touch and the weight of her gaze, knowing that this moment was more than you could handle and yet somehow not wanting it to end.

And just like that, you were left hanging—unsure of what would happen next.

[runnning-outof-time]

If It’s Meant to Be | John Shelby x Reader

Request: yes by anonymous

Pairing: John Shelby x fem!Reader

Summary: John and (Y/N) were friends when they were younger. Life, as life does, pulls them apart for some time before they find each other again while (Y/N) is helping someone who happened to be lost.

Warnings: season 4 spoilers…maybe?? (I’m re-writing canon to make things better), language

Word Count: 4450

A/N: if I’m being honest I quite enjoyed following your prompt/request, anon! I hope I was able to add everything you were hoping into it and that it turned out along the lines of what you were imagining! I’m sorry that it’s taken ages for me to share. Enjoy! :)

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! YOUR COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!

comment/message me if you want to be tagged!

If it’s meant to be, it’ll be. That phrase gets thrown around so much. John Shelby always thought that he and (Y/N) (Y/L/N) were meant to be. But things didn’t quite work out that way…at first.

They were practically inseparable as teens. All it took was one meeting near the cut for the two to know that they wanted to be in each others lives for as long as possible.

Wherever (Y/N) was, John was to be found close by. If John was out doing something, nine times out of ten (Y/N) was helping out in some way.

Family members often joked that the two were attached at the hip. Ada even went as far as to conspire with (Y/N)’s younger sister, the two saying that they were excited to become future sister-in-laws.

But things don’t always work out to plan.

The dream of the families uniting as one through John and (Y/N)’s union crumbled slowly rather than it just being one, major blow.

(Y/N) started delving more into her studies; having big dreams of graduating and going further in schooling so that she could make something of herself. She’d always wanted to have more than just the lower-level jobs that Small Heath had to offer. She still tried to see John as much as she could, but the nights that were once spent gallivanting around the streets together had now been swapped for study sessions.

John couldn’t be completely mad at his friend. He wanted her to succeed and have the life that she was dreaming of. Sure he missed her company, and truly relished in the time that they were still able to spend together, but to say that he was now left completely in his lonesome would be a lie.

John met Martha Davies when she and her family moved to Small Heath.

Unlike how he was with (Y/N), who he tried so hard to hide his deeper feelings for behind the mask of friendship, John immediately went forward with expressing his desire to get to know Martha better.

While (Y/N) was busy with studying, John was busy with Martha. It was easy to tell how quickly the two had fallen for each other.

The news - though it really shouldn’t have given how quickly the two became…acquainted with each other - came as a shock just only six months into John knowing Martha. Hell, (Y/N) had only met her a handful of times before John was excitedly telling her the news that Martha was pregnant and he was going to be a father.

(Y/N) should have been happy for him. And on the outside she tried her best to present her emotions that way. But deep down, her real feelings that she’d been harboring towards her friend for years now were being crushed. She always pushed them aside for fear that he only purely saw her as a friend; for the fear that her revealing them would cause him to run from her life forever. Now there was no way that he’d ever know of them.

John, who was just a few months shy from his final teenage year, was now going to be a husband and father — he felt it was only right that he marry Martha given the fact that they’d now share a child.

If John was going to grow up this suddenly, (Y/N) felt that she should to. Her prelininary studies were finished and she was ready to go and make something of herself.

And so she moved to London, one step closer to her dream but many miles away from the person who grew up alongside her.

— 1924 —

Ada was the first to learn that (Y/N) was back in town. She didn’t waste any time in inviting her to what the Shelby woman promised would be ‘an amazing evening’.

Many things had changed since (Y/N) had last seen the Shelbys. One of the more major ones was the fact that they had quickly rose into wealth and power.

On this particular evening, Tommy and his new wife, Grace, were holding one of their regular events; where people of power and prospective business partners gathered to shake hands and attempt to make deals. It was a circle that (Y/N) felt she was so far removed from.

Ada’s persistence was hard to ignore though. She kept focusing on the fact that it was a different sort of event for the family invovled, and that everyone would be thrilled to see her again. (Y/N) couldn’t deny the fact that she, too, would be overjoyed to see the Shelbys again…even if it meant that her heart might break.

She made sure to wear one of her more sophisticated outfits and that her appearance was as perfect as it could get. When the time to leave arrived, she checked over herself in the mirror one last time before grabbing her clutch and heading down to the car that was waiting for her.

The manor she pulled up to left her in awe. Never did she expect to be welcomed into a place as grand as this. But if there was anyone in her life, past or present, who could be capable of obtaining this sort of grandeur, it would no doubt be Tommy Shelby.

“(Y/N)!” Of course Ada was the first person to find her. “I’m so happy you came!” the brunette exclaimed as she hasitly pulled her into a hug.

“You doubted I would?” (Y/N) asked, trying to focus on her friend rather than the crowd of people present in the grand foyer area of the manor. If there’s this many people in the entry room, how many would be in the banquet hall? she thought to herself.

“Never,” the other woman shook her head, “come with me. The others will be so excited that you’re here!” she then said, taking hold of (Y/N)’s forearm so that she could lead her into the banquet hall. (Y/N) hesitantly followed, not quite wanting to see the man she used to call ‘best friend’ just yet.

Thankfully Ada pulled her to Polly first. (Y/N) was happy to see her. Polly was just as much an aunt to her as she was the Shelby siblings. And, much like Ada had promised, the older woman was thrilled to see her again.

Time quickly slipped away and (Y/N) truly felt like the tiny group that had been assembled were the only ones in the room. She quickly slipped into a comfortable state, the crowds of people truly disappearing as the women caught up on everything they’d missed out on in the others’ lives.

Ada was the first to be pulled away. She was found by one of the house’s staff — which blew (Y/N)’s mind…Tommy had staff now?! — who needed her because Karl was becoming restless and ready for bed. She promised that she’d only be gone briefly and that she’d find Polly and (Y/N) again as soon as she was finished.

Polly got pulled away too. Tommy needed her to meet a prospective business partner. He greeted (Y/N) warmly — after he realized it was her — and expressed his gladness to see her before asking his aunt to join him for a moment.

Now (Y/N) was alone in this crowded hall of people. She stood and did some crowd-watching for some time (people just being people truly fascinated her) before deciding to go and find some refreshments to indulge in.

But she didn’t make it to said refreshments table…and it seemed that she wasn’t the only person who was alone at the party.

Although there were people moving all around, it seemed as though she was the only person who noticed the small boy who was cowering into himself with fear present in his eyes.

Cautiously, and with a friendly smile, she approached the child, whose bottom lip was quivering. It was evident that he’d been crying. “Do you need help, sweetheart?” she asked him, keeping her voice calm and level in hopes to not spook him any more than he already had been.

The boy only nodded his head, his wide eyes matching hers. The desperation present in them nearly broke (Y/N)’s heart.

“Are you hurt?” she asked a question.

The boy shook his head, ringing his small hands together.

(Y/N) inwardly sighed in relief. At least he’s not hurt, she thought to herself, now what could be the matter? After racking her brain, she asked another question, “are you looking for someone?”

The boy nodded this time. More relief filled (Y/N)’s body. He said nothing in addition to his nod, though, so she still had some more questions to ask.

“A friend?” she asked, remembering that she’d seen several children running around the room earlier.

The boy shook his head.

“A grown up?”

The boy nodded.

Ok, on the right track, (Y/N) thought, nodding along with him. “Your parents?” she asked.

“M-my dad,” the boy finally spoke, his mouse-like voice breaking (Y/N)’s heart. What he said next shattered it even further into pieces, “my mummy’s not here anymore. She…my aunt said she went to heaven.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, sweetie,” (Y/N) gave her condolences with a frown. “How about we go find your dad, hmm?” she then asked, offering another friendly smile.

“Ok,” the boy nodded, reaching his hand out for (Y/N) to take. The woman smiled as she accepted it, and the two began walking, searching through the crowd for his father.

“Let me know if you see him, ok?” (Y/N) said to the boy. She’d just realized that she had no idea who his father was.

“Johnny there you are!” a young girl exclaimed, her eyes set on the boy (Y/N) had been helping.

“We were looking everywhere for you!” a second girl chimed in.

(Y/N) looked down at the boy, whose expression hadn’t changed. She crouched down slightly to be more on his level. “Do you know them?” she asked him.

The boy nodded. “They’re my sisters,” he answered, his eyes still focused on the girls, who were now approached them.

“Who are you, miss?” the older of the two girls asked once they stopped in front of (Y/N) and the boy.

“My name’s (Y/N),” the woman introduced herself with a smile, “your brother was lost and needed some help finding your dad.”

“Well we don’t know where dad is either,” the younger of the two girls stated in a matter-of-fact tone, “but Johnny can come with us. We’re dancing.”

(Y/N) looked to the boy, who had calmed down significantly now. “Is it ok if you stay with your sisters?” she asked, her eyebrows raised slightly.

The boy nodded his head, the slightest of smiles now present on his face. (Y/N) smiled back, happy that he was no longer upset. But he caught her hand before she was able to stand up straight again. “Will you stay with us, Miss (Y/N)?” he asked in a sweet voice.

The question really wasn’t up for decision in (Y/N)’s mind. She knew her answer right away. Hell, she had nothing else better to do, or no one else she needed to see…so why not pass the time with these kids? “Of course,” she answered with a smile, laughing softly as the three children all cheered in joy. The little group wasted no time falling into beat with the music and dancing with smiles on their faces.

Unbeknownst to (Y/N), Polly and Ada had regrouped and were now watching her and the children as they danced.

“I wonder if she knows,” Ada queried out loud, watching her friend dance with her neices and nephew with a small smile.

“I don’t think she does,” Polly answered, shaking her head. A tight-lipped smile was also present on her face.

“You two seen any of the kids anywhere?” the voice of John Shelby came from behind the ladies, “ran off a while ago…haven’t fucking seen them since.”

Ada and Polly shared a look, both biting back smiles. John was able to catch said look.

“Well go on…share it,” he pressed them, his brow furrowing in annoyance. He didn’t have time for this…there were drinks to drink and ladies to charm. If they thought he’d be spending the entire evening chasing after his children, they’d be dead wrong.

“Your youngest was up with Karl. He was asleep when I went to attend to him,” Ada shared some information about Maxwell Shelby, John’s four year old.

“And the others?” John’s brows were now raised.

“They’re right over there,” Polly answered, pointing a finger in the direction of the dancing group.

John wasted no time following her finger and when he did, his world stopped. No. That…that couldn’t be her…could it? Questions raced through his mind as memories flooded back. God, she looks more beautiful than the day she left me, he was so entranced that he just about forgot how to breathe.

“John?”

The voice of his aunt brought him back to reality, and he shook his head as he snapped out of the trance she put him in. A hand went up to scratch the back of his neck instinctively, and he hoped that he could play off his staring. The grins on both of the women’s faces told another story.

“He didn’t hear a word you said, Pol,” Ada snickered, loving the fact that she was able to poke fun at her brother.

“Oh fuck off,” John grumbled, trying so hard to keep his focus on his family and not the beautiful woman that was still playing with his children. A silence fell between the trio and John took it to do just what he was stopping himself from moments ago. “I…I, uh, I should…” he stopped his babbling, clearing his throat and trying to regain his wits. Christ, just the sight of her had him babbling like a fucking child. “I should probably uh, probably go over and see how they’re getting on,” his statement sounded more like a suggestion…which was weird because he was essentially suggesting for himself to go and do it.

“Go on then,” Polly wasted no time in agreeing with her nephew, motioning over to where (Y/N) and the children still were.

“Yeah,” John agreed, like it wasn’t even his idea in the first place. He didn’t move though.

“Grow a pair and get on with it, John,” Ada snapped him out of the trance he once again fell into, still grinning at the fact that John was very much acting like a lovesick fool at the moment. In fact she hadn’t seem him like this since…well since he was around (Y/N).

With one last glare, John finally heeded to their nudges and started off in (Y/N)’s direction. Her back was to him as he approached, and she was dancing with his eldest son, Johnny. His daughters, Jane and Katie, did see him coming though, their eyes lighting up when they realized he was there.

“Daddy!” they exclaimed in unison.

The yelling of the girls made (Y/N) stop what she was doing and turn. Seeing the person who they’d addressed made the breath get caught in her throat. No. It can’t be, she thought to herself, her heartrate quickening by the second.

John was - also - back to staring again. He still couldn’t believe that she was standing right in front of him.

“Dad…dad, did you hear me?” the sound of Katie’s impatient voice brought him back to reality. He focused in on his daughter as he heard the sweet sounds of (Y/N)’s giggles. They made it feel like there was heat being placed on the back of his neck.

“I…I didn’t, sweetheart, I’m sorry,” he sheepishly answered his child.

“I was telling you that this is (Y/N). She found Johnny and then agreed to stay and dance with us. She’s really nice,” Katie explained again.

Her being referred to gave John the go ahead to look at (Y/N) again. This time he willed himself to stay focused and not get lost in the memories they shared together, or how beautiful she looked.

“She helped me because I was crying and didn’t know where anyone was,” Johnny shared, “she’s really friendly. I think we could all be friends.”

John couldn’t help but chuckle a little as he watched (Y/N) stiffle her laugh. “Yeah, Johnny, I, uh…I—” God you look like a babbling fool right now, get ahold on yourself, John-boy, was ringing out in John’s mind.

(Y/N) watched him intently, waiting to hear how he would address the past between them. Would he address the past between them?

“I used to know (Y/N)…we used to be best friends when we was younger,” he finally shared with the children, feeling silly for holding his breath as he waited for their response.

There was a moment’s pause as the three little Shelbys looked at each other. It felt like eternity to the two adults, who looked as if they wanted to say so much to each other. Soon smiles formed on the children’s faces.

“That’s great that you’re already friends with her, daddy!” Katie exclaimed, beaming up at John.

“When can she come over?” Jane eagerly asked, her question making (Y/N) laugh as her heart bursted with love.

“That’ll be up to her,” John answered, laughing at his childrens innocent questions, the heat still creeping up his neck.

“Your father and I will have to talk about it,” (Y/N) added her own response, a sweet smile present on her features. She then looked at John, her expression telling him that they’d have to find each other later to catch up.

“Please talk about it later, daddy!” Johnny exclaimed, a pleading look present on his face.

“I will, Johnny, I will,” he assured the boy, nodding both to him and to (Y/N), silently accepting her invitation.

(Y/N) was resting against one of the balconies on the side terrace of the manor later that evening when she heard footsteps approaching her. She didn’t bother to turn and look; having a good idea of who could be coming.

“You followed through with the invitation,” she commented as John came to a rest beside her.

“Always do, angel,” John responded, his usage of her old nickname making her heart flutter.

It was one that he frequently used when they were younger…she was always doing the right thing; always acting like an angel. John loved to call her it in a teasing manner and though she’d wrinkle her nose up when he used it, she secretly loved it. Tonight, however, he used it in a sincere manner, and it just about made (Y/N) weak at the knees.

“You don’t know how surprised I was when I saw you with me kids,” John admitted then, looking out at the grounds his brother owned.

“The surprise was pretty clear on your face, John,” (Y/N) responded, giggling as his eyes shot to match hers; wide in surprise.

“Never was good at hiding stuff from you,” he said in a sheepish tone, shaking his head. “How’d you find out about this?” he asked then.

“Ada found out I was back in town. She invited me,” she answered. John made a mental note to thank his sister later. “It was nice meeting your kids,” she said with a smile.

“They’ll probably talk about you for days,” he said with a laugh, looking away from her for a moment. “Only good things I’ve left,” he mused, his tone sounded solemn.

Silence fell between them as (Y/N) chewed on her bottom lip, wondering if she should offer her condolences or not. She didn’t know if the wounds were still fresh, or when it had even happened. “I’m sorry about Martha, John,” she finally said.

“I am, too,” he responded, looking down at his feet as he took a deep breath, “feel bad for those kids most of all. They didn’t really even get to know her.”

“That must’ve been tough,” (Y/N) mused.

“It was…” John agreed, “it has been,” he then corrected.

“I’m home now, so I’m…”

“You’re home?” John cut into her statement, his eyes widening as they found hers again.

“I am,” she affirmed, smiling softly before continuing, “I’d be happy to help you with your kids if you need at all.”

John smiled as he heard what she said. He couldn’t lie, he was suprised by how gracious she was being. There were a thousand words he wanted to say, but all he was able to get out was: “thank you, (Y/N).”

For her, it was enough.

Silence fell between them once again as (Y/N) wrestled with yet another thought; one that she’d been wanting to say since he joined her outside. After a few moments, she finally took the leap and said it.

“You know, I always thought we’d end up together…I always thought that it’d be us,” she made sure to train her eyes on the darkened landscape as she spoke. She couldn’t handle seeing John’s expression as it changed.

“I…” John hesitated.

“That wasn’t me trying to insert myself into anything. I’m sorry if it sounded that way,” she scrambled to cover up, not even thinking of how he could have taken her admission. “I just…I wanted that to be known. I spent too long dancing around it without saying what I felt,” she took a deep breath, debating on whether to add anything more. There was one more thing she was burning to say, “I had-have a lot of love for you, John.”

It took a few moments for him to digest what she had said. Never did he think that she’d be admitting these feelings to him. He always thought that he’d have to keep his boxed away for the rest of his life. But now she’d put hers out in the open, it would be silly of him to withhold his.

“Hey,” he started, wanting to get her to look at him before he shared his confession. His one word statement succeeded in getting her eyes to match his. “I’ve always loved you, (Y/N),” he admitted, his voice holding a sincereness he hadn’t used in a while.

“You’re being serious?” she asked, the corners of her lips twitching as she wanted to smile so big right now.

“So serious,” he whispered, smiling as he spoke.

“I…” she paused to let out a laugh, feeling so silly for what she was about to admit to him, “I really wanna kiss you right now, John Shelby.”

“Then kiss me, (Y/N),” he wasted no time in agreeing to what she was suggesting, slowly moving to rest his hands on her waist. He was gentle in his touch, silently letting her know that she could break away if she wanted. She didn’t.

(Y/N) reached to take hold of his jacket’s lapels before leaning in slightly. John got the message, meeting her halfway so that their lips could—finally— meet. The — what felt like — lifetime’s wait for this moment was most certainly worth it.

— Three Years Later —

“Katie!” (Y/N) called out, knowing that the eldest child was in the next room over. Her joyful scream was a distinctive one, and the woman was able to hear it amongst at least two others. It didn’t take long before the girl appeared in the archway of the room John and (Y/N) were sitting in.

“Yes?” she asked, trying to catch her breath. It was obvious that she’d been playing.

“I need you and your siblings to try and keep your voices down, ok?” (Y/N) kindly asked.

“Why’s that, mum?” the young girl inquired.

(Y/N) froze before she could give her answer, her mouth agape. Katie had just called her ‘mum’.

Thankfully John was able to step in and continue the conversation—because it had became obvious to him that (Y/N) couldn’t. “Because mum’s just gotten Ella to sleep. We don’t want her to wake again,” he explained, motioning to the baby that was sleeping on (Y/N)’s chest.

“Ok, dad,” Katie conceded without a fight. Both John and (Y/N) gave a soft thanks and watched as she went to leave. She’d only moved from the arch for a second before returning to say one last thing, “you should know that it’s really Max who was making all of the noise.”

Her statement made both adults laugh. “Go on,” John waved her off. The girl gave one more toothy smile before running off to her siblings.

“Did she…?” (Y/N) finally got out, surprise laced into her words.

“She did,” John grinned as he looked at his wife, “mum.”

It may have seemed like nothing special to someone looking on, but to (Y/N), what just happened was monumental. This was the first time Katie Shelby had called her mum.

(Y/N) and John hardly spent a moment separated since the night they rekindled their friendship…which quickly turned into a relationship…which quickly turned into them getting married and having a child together.

With their dear little Eloise being born just five months ago, both felt that their family was now perfect. But even though (Y/N) took on the role of mother to John’s four children in every sense of the term, she never forced the kids to address her by the name. Martha was their mum, and not even her being gone could change that.

One by one, though, the kids began calling her mum. Katie was the last to hold out. The eldest girl would always address her as ‘(Y/N)’, and (Y/N) was perfectly fine with that. Which is why when the girl used the ‘m-word’ just now, she froze in her tracks. She couldn’t help but blush as she looked at John, who was grinning like a fool.

“She called me mum,” she whispered again, more to herself than anything.

“She did,” John repeated, his voice soft as he smiled at his wife.

If it’s meant to be, it’ll be is the phrase that always gets thrown around. Luckily — thankfully — for John and (Y/N), it was meant to be.

MASTERLIST

Tagged: @the-anxious-youth @mystcldydrms @look-at-the-soul @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing

@evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @theshelbyslimited @peakyswritings @watercolorskyy

@strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @stevie75 @dark-academia-slut

@zablife @cillmequick @letal-y-poetica @depxiety @shelundeadxxxx

@red-riding-wood @padfootdaredmetoo @crabat-the-queen @sebastianstangirl01 @everythingelseisextra

@kmc1989 @papichulo120627 @brummiereader @adaydreamaway08 @justrainandcoffee

@peakyltd @johannelis2302nely @ce1iat @wildheartsalwaysburn @dragons-are-my-favorite

@jessimay89 @slaymybreathaway @mysticalfuncollectorus @sleepyycatt @novashelby

[boundbyeclipse]

hiii can you write smut number 5 with current James????

black velvet

genre : smut

word count : 1227

tags : current!james, female!reader, age difference (not specified how much), reader is a tattoo artist, a little rough james, semi-public sex (i think?), that’s about it

from the prompt list : 5. “don’t cover your mouth. i wanna hear you”

a/n : sooo i saw a photo of James getting a tattoo done and i thought hey, that’s a perfect idea for one of my requests! it really stuck to me and i had to write it. i really hope you enjoy this one x

‘Poison’ by Alice Cooper played in the background after you returned from your dinner break at work. You hummed along to the lyrics while lightly bopping your head to the beat. You absolutely loved rock and metal, so the playlist used at work always consisted of bands who did exactly those genres. It always gave you motivation and boosts for some energy, no matter if you were sad, angry or irritated.

While preparing for your next client, the sound of the entrance door opening and closing reached your ears. Technically, it was just a bit too early to show up, but hey, this one’s a regular and you didn’t mind at all.

“Hey there” you greeted him while putting some black gloves on your hands.

“Hey. Mind me showing up before I should?”

You gave him a warm smile, shaking your head left to right.

“Nope. You can come take a seat actually, I’ll go print out the tattoo and get more ink”

“Alright” James smiled back, hanging his jacket on the rack and making his way to the big, comfortable leather chair. He watched you walking around and you didn’t quite pay any attention to him, at least at first. Or, you just didn’t want to.

No matter how many times you’ve done tattoos on this man in the past few years, there has always been some sort of a tension between you both. It wasn’t anything like what you’ve had before with other men. They might have complimented you, made you smile, even blush, but none of them put you in such a vulnerable position with their presence alone. And there have been many times where his eyes would pierce right through you in the middle of getting his skin drawn on, creating the impression of him wanting to do some things to you. The lust was purely emitting from him the whole time. And you cannot forget about those moments when his fingertips would brush against your skin, making you shiver and think of scenarios in your head that were not so innocent. Sure, he was much older than you, but that didn’t stop either of you from craving each other every time.

Not too long after, you were already seated next to James, with his hand extended out as you were drawing lines on his skin.

My, oh my, did those large hands of his drove you insane.

“You got any more people coming after me?” he suddenly asked, his blue eyes hinting at something.

“Nope, you are the last one today. Puts my mind at ease knowing my last client is a regular. No need to overthink”

One side of his mouth curved up into a small smirk.

“Are you sure your mind is at ease? Because I can feel you’re all tensed up”

You swallowed and bit your lower lip hard after he said that. Trying to hide your growing frustration, you giggled.

“Maybe I am, I’ve been here since seven in the morning, you know”

He cocked an eyebrow up, not quite believing what you were saying. James could clearly see how you bit your lip, adjusted in your seat and giggled due to getting thrown back by his comment.

“It’s kind of easy to tell that it’s not because of the work. You don’t need to hide it”

Your breath hitched in your throat, and your body froze for a moment before you looked up at him and asked.

“What do you mean?”

“I know you secretly think about all the possible ways I could use my hands on you,” you could not believe what he just said, but it was totally true, “it’s written all over your face. Even your body language gives it away with how you shake, squirm in your seat, how you breathe heavier when I’m around. I know you think of me”

“James, don’t-“

“Just finish the tattoo first, then you can explain yourself”

Not even ten minutes later, you had your body pinned against the door of your break room, with no way to escape the tall man who hovered over you. His hands roamed your body while he kissed your neck, sucking on the sensitive spots to make you even weaker. The way he held you by your hip against the door made you so vulnerable and so turned on, that you could not help but moan into the heated kiss.

With one swift move, James opened the door behind you and the both of you walked backwards, still all over each other until the back of your calves hit the lounge couch that was in the room. James helped you with taking your shirt off, leaving you in a black lace bra. You sat down and watched James from below, eyes full of desperation and need, looking right into his own. He removed his shirt and tossed it away, unbuckling his jeans and unzipping them, then hovering above you as he laid you down slowly, but with rough kisses and a tight grip on your waist.

Your hand reached into his jeans and you cupped him through the fabric of his underwear, giving it a couple squeezes as James groaned in response. He was big, thick and hard, and you could feel yourself getting so wet that it started to hurt. You really needed him.

With no clothes left on your bodies, he was now inside you, moving his hips as he watched your face, loving the way your eyes rolled back with each thrust. The way your back arched, your naked bodies touching against each other, it put you in such a trance. Every second of it - you just loved.

With your moans becoming louder, you felt a little embarrassed, and your hand found its way to your mouth to silence yourself. But James wasn’t going to let you hide.

“Don’t cover your mouth. I wanna hear you”

Carefully, he took your hand and now had both of your hands pinned above your head. Your moans filled the room as you wrapped your legs around his waist, wanting to feel every single inch of his length in you. Almost to the point where you could barely take it.

“I can’t- I can’t take it”

“Yes, you can. Just hang on for a little bit more for me, okay?”

You gave him a nod in response, eyes watery and lips parted as you breathed heavily, your high hitting you right then and there. It happened so quickly, that you could not even tell James that you were close.

Another moan slipped out of his mouth as you coated him in your juices, your walls pulsing whilst he was still inside you, able to feel everything.

“Almost there” he told you as he gave you his final thrusts before pulling out and cumming on your stomach. Both of you were panting, with small beads of sweat on your foreheads and hair all messed up. But as soon as you got your breathing back to normal, it was time to clean up and go home. Though, James just wasn’t quite keen on leaving you so soon.

“I’ll give you a ride back home, so don’t worry about taking a bus in this weather” he gave you a warm smile as he put his jacket on and waited for you at the entrance door.

[mrsjellymunson]

Hurt Me

Written for the @steddiemicrofic November prompt ‘guard’ | WC target: 532 | Rating: M | CW: hurt/no comfort, angst, mentions of sex, feelings denial, self-sabotage | Tags: rockstar!Eddie Munson, personal assistant!Steve Harrington, top!Eddie Munson, bottom!Steve Harrington, shameless use of pop song lyrics 

He’s done the right thing. He’s sure of it. If Eddie’s learned anything from a life on the road it’s that he needs to guard his heart. There’s no room for messy things like feelings, emotions, anything even resembling love.

And that’s definitely not what they had. Absolutely not. Not by a long way. Whatever he and Steve had was strictly business. 

Until it wasn’t… 

So what if they happened to cross paths when Eddie swung by Hawkins on a break from touring, and he realized Steve wasn't that douche from High School anymore, he was actually a good dude. 

Or that Steve ended up being the best Personal Assistant Eddie’d ever had. Or that he became the best friend Eddie’d ever had.

And so what if they started hooking up after shows, they were just purging adrenalin, right? And then between shows, then after meetings, then before meetings…

So what if Steve sometimes stays the night - it’s just easier to get to whatever thing they have the next day. Or that they shared a hotel room that time - they had a lot of prep to do and it just made sense to stay close so they could work. 

So what if Eddie’s disappointed every time they get back to the big city where they have their own places. Where Eddie can get Steve on the phone anytime, sure, but where that’s not enough anymore.

So what if, when he slides into Steve’s tight warmth and he whimpers into the pillows, it stirs something inside Eddie. Or, when he gazes into those molten caramel eyes, he searches for flecks of forest green that he’s convinced nobody else has ever seen. So what if, for years, it’s the closest thing he’s felt to being anything resembling… complete.

So what if Steve’s the first person he’d consider letting top him since that awful encounter he had years ago. So what if he wants to ask him if he would.

None of it means anything. It doesn’t.

Just like it doesn’t mean anything now, when Eddie’s dressing for yet another interview and going through his dresser looking for the perfect ripped black tee out of the hundreds he now owns. Absolutely not looking for the one Steve picked out for him that time for a photoshoot, telling him it was the hottest he’d ever looked.

He’s definitely not overthinking how he broke things off, bitchily yelling at Steve to go back to Indiana because,

“The rockstar life doesn’t suit you, dude.”

Or how Steve retorted,

“Have you ever considered that by pushing people away, the only thing you’re guarding yourself from is happiness?”

So what if Eddie sits and weeps, amongst piles of black leather and satin and chains, and tells himself,

“So what? I'm still a rock star, I've got my rock moves. And I don't need Steve. And guess what? I'm having more fun now that we're done.”

He snuffles and wipes snot from his nose with the heel of his hand.

“I'm gonna show him tonight. I'm alright, I'm just fine. And he’s a tool. And I don't want Steve tonight.”

He’s done the right thing. He’s sure of it…

Thanks so much for reading! There’s more Steddie minifics on my masterlist, if you’re interested (and I promise the majority are happier than this one 😆)

A/N2: This gets added to the list entitled Times I Wrote Something & Made Myself Cry. I’m so sorry… Also, what is this obsession I apparently have with SteddiexP!nk lyrics? IDK, if you work it out LMK 😆 Also, props to @morningberriesao3 for the idea of an ‘awful encounter’, I hope this doesn’t count as plagiarism but if it does LMK and I’ll totally change it! 🙏

Tagging my usuals, ILY (list is open) @joejoequinnquinn @jamdoughnutmagician @guiltyasquinn @madaboutmunson @airen256 @sunshinepeachx @the-unforgivenn @skrzydlak @comeonatmebruh @jamiecb66 @80s-addict @abellmunsonmovie @definitionwanderlust @sheneedsrocknroll92 @munson-blurbs @wonderlanddreamer @daisy-munson @maedesculpaeusoubi @kurdtbean @mediocredreams @in2tswft @micheledawn1975 @littlebebebunny @12thatsanumber @alastorssimp @the-baby-angel @eddie-is-a-god @wolfqueenxxx @losingmygrasponreality @richter-raccoon @1deverland

[quarterlifekitty]

The screech I scrumpt at tramp!soap oh my god I’m unwellllll I love them I adore them they’re everything to me and I greatly appreciate you sharing your thoughts thank you :)

Can I ask and pls ignore me if you want about tramp!soap getting territorial? He’s perfectly happy to let other dogs from the neighborhood come around, even tries his luck at friendliness with price and nik once or twice, but when another stray starts sniffing around sweet innocent lady’s house? Practically glued himself to her side and sleeps in front of the doggy door. Maybe even sneaks along on a walk to the park with lady’s owners, jumping in right on time to keep her (and her owners by extension) safe? Sweet innocent little lady has never heard a growl like that but she’s not sure she disliked it and really how could her owners not start leaving out food and water for the stray who saved them

Keep scrumpting baby!!!

I’m gonna do a bit of twisting on this one, hope that’s ok!

I imagine your owners are a little protective over you, of course. You’re just a sensitive little girl to them, they got you when you were just a puppy! And your breed makes you smaller than street mutts like Soap. So when they notice him hanging around, they do try to chase him off, worried he’ll hurt you. They even think about calling the dog catcher, but ultimately decide against it.

Soap isn’t even a little discouraged. He’ll dig his way under any fence he has to if it means he gets to see his lady again!! Maybe he even calls you lassie. Because I’m unoriginal!!!

And maybe if you return his affections, you start sneaking out later in the evenings to see him. Your owners have gone to bed, and you go through your doggy door, prancing through the back yard to go to your little meeting place where you kiss, and cuddle, and talk about puppies.

But Soap isn’t there tonight. There’s another stray. One that growls. One that chases and nips at your heels until you’re backed into the corner of the little fenced in yard. By now the barking and yipping has woken up your owners, you see the bedroom light turn on.

It’s then that Soap makes it to you, having sprinted from a few houses down when he heard you so distressed. He growls and bares his teeth as he dives between you and the other stray, arching himself in as fierce a manner as he can manage. They tumble in a mass of fur and fangs and wild eyes, Soap managing to sink his teeth into the neck of the other stray as your owners come out of the back door, robes in hand with a flashlight.

The other stray bolts, looking worse for wear. You start tending to Soap— bitten up and bruised in his own right, his hackles starting to lower. You lick and soothe over the sore marks. It’s clear to your owners that the stray that they’d been trying to keep off of their property protected you. And it’s not like they can pretend it’s not the sweetest thing— seeing you curl up with him, nuzzling noses between your comforting little kisses.

He becomes a much more permanent resident in the back yard since they’ve stopped chasing him away. And he wants to stay closer in case that stray comes back. He stays in your doghouse (you’re too much of a good girl to ever really get sent there anyways) for a few weeks, your owners leaving out food and water for him. And you love being able to run outside and see him almost any time you want!!! Every time you get a treat, like a slice of ham or some jerky, you dash outside to share it with him.

Until one day, you coax him inside. He’s wary, and he’s right to be, because your owners are gonna wash the fuck outta him in the bath when he least expects it. But before that? They present him with a collar. A bit bigger and thicker than yours, a deep teal color dying the leather. A silver tag with the house address on it. A new bed— much too big for just you alone. And you take him to show him the fireplace— your favorite place in the whole world. His tail thumps against the carpet when he finally settles fully, in his first real home.

[deathdetermineslife]

how do you manage to get any followers or friends in the selfshipping community? is it just luck?

for months i’ve been trying to interact with others and follow people, engaging with stuff like ask games and hosting reblog games, but when i try to share any artwork or i reblog an ask game myself, its radio silence. like even in small discords i get ignored so bad

i don’t say this at all to be guilt tripping /gen, it’s genuine curiosity at how this stuff even works. like am i doing something wrong or is the community just like this?

here is my comprehensive and lame guide on How To Get Selfship Followers

step 1 - posting

so a lot of my posts are either kinda general or fun. folks I will not lie to you. these are all stupid shit that come to my mind on a day to day basis. for example, today, I thought, "man I'm such a loser I'm not in college like all my friends r" and then I was like "omg wait. i could make a post out of this" so I did that.

you also kinda gotta be conistent. so i try to post at least *something* everyday. even if its a reblog, tho, I don't reblog a lot of things other than ask games.

another thing with posting is that i do try to make a lot of community based content. so idk if yall remember but in the beginning of my account, I did the "things you can do if you have xyz f/o". i did like,,, I think almost 100 of those ?????? it was a lot. then I started making templates and I made some ask games and ofc I post a lot of general like,,, imagine stuff. oh also polls. people seem to enjoy polls.

step 2 - be positive

this is the big thing. as most of yall (hopefully) know, I do not fw proshippers !! but I don't talk about discourse unless its directly brought up. not only this, I put a big focus on just,,, being nice idk. like id like to think I'm a pretty down to earth person.

if you make a template and people tag you in it, say something nice! reply to peoples art, send in asks, things like that. i try to do my part in being nice. i also just like hearing about peoples selfships.

when people post promos and have the little "rb to be moots", reblog! when you come across someone having a bad day, maybe they made a vent or something, reply with a simple "I hope you feel better <3" or "your f/o loves you <3". things like that, ya know?

step 3 - have fun

genuinely. i post as much as i do because I like it. i didn't go into this thinking "oh... yea... I'm gonna get selfship famous..." like no I just wanna ramble somewhere bc none of my close irls r selfshippers.

you wont get popular or get followers because you grind out posts. literally one of my biggest posts on this account I wrote while I was half asleep one night and wanted to test out queuing on my account.

and in that regard, it is partially luck. i don't control what posts people do and don't like. sometimes I write up imagines and no one sees them. sometimes I write up a post saying "lol go kiss your fake boyfriend ooo smoochie smoochie" and that does numbers

step 4 - interaction

im only in two servers. one server (which was the first public server I think I ever joined ???? i could be wrong tho,,, bad memory blehg) that I don't own and then my own 18+ server. i don't think being in servers does anything,,, considering I'm only in one that isn't mine. i think its more like ,,, sticking to one or two places ?? like just being consistently in an area you're comfortable in.

i guess you gotta just find the right people ??? and like I mentioned, be friendly, but ya know. also I guess tags too? idk if you look at any of my regular posts I have 8 million tags on them. idk if that actually does anything or not because its kinda hit or miss sometimes.

i was gonna say something else but i forgot. see look listen I dunno how I got here but this is what I do ,,,, effectively nothing. also with the being kind thing, maybe this is how I am bc I'm pagan but I think that if you expect kindness back you wont get anything. sometimes its just nice to be nice. eventually you gain a reputation for being a nice person. you kinda have to not want that tho? like I don't see myself as particularly like ,,, super kind ,,,??? i just do what feels right.

step 5 - uhhhh idk im just rambling now

i guess i also went into this kinda like. damn sometimes this community is a cesspool of absolute meanie pants. i don't wanna be a Meanie Pants and just post my thoughts and the things I think about. i guess how I see it too is, I kinda like ? idk I think all these things anyways why not post them? kinda feels like a waste not to.

also ive been told my posts are pretty recognizable bc of how I format them ? my dividers and such. also tagging all of my imagines and stuff with my 🥀📜 emojis. i guess that helps too? because that's how I recognize certain accounts. "like oh there's them I recognize their dividers and their tags".

also you kinda gotta like,,, not let hate get to you. like have fun with it? i know that's hard, but, that's what you gotta do. when I get printer ink (bc. a hoe does NOT like buying printer ink) im printing out that fucking 8 mile long hate message I got sent. but also that's just the kinda person I am. like people being a dick and stealing my posts and telling me to swallow a glock 9mm doesn't upset me, im more like,, confused more than anything because never in my life have I ever sent hate to anyone. also I have had this "I do not care because you're some loser on the internet and you being an ass wipe is no where near as bad as the shit people have done to me irl" attitude.

TLDR; i dont think youre doing anything wrong because I don't exactly know what I'm doing right. i just... do... and sometimes, "just doing" is enough. maybe its luck, maybe I've been blessed by the tumblr algorithm and I've somehow figured it out, or maybe the community is just genuinely that bad and they pick favorites. maybe its all of the above! who knows. i try not to worry about it. i think at the end of the day, as long as you're having fun posting about your f/os and selfshipping, that's what matters.

alright thats all see ya. if you have any more questions feel free to ask however I fear I cannot answer them </3

[six-eyed-samurai]

Not canon to my storyline because Geto's younger brother can use Cursed Technique/see Cursed Spirits, and Geto murdered his parents for an entirely different reason, but alternatively Geto Jnr. could've ended up with Gojo instead...

In a way Geto was... relieved that one member of his family wasn't home that day and didn't join the two bodies lying on the ground.

He must still be at school, Geto assumed as he wiped off his hands. Did he really want to kill him though? He couldn't let him live either, not when he wasn't a Jujutsu sorcerer...but he'll shelve that issue for now, seeing as he wasn't at home today and technically Geto didn't know where he was. Out of sight, out of mind, right?

A closet upstairs shuddered, creaking open; Suguru-nii hadn't known he'd been sick and stayed home today.

***

"You want me to what?!"

Gojo didn't think he could receive any more shock these days, still reeling from his best friend's betrayal and mass murder, but somehow Yaga still managed to prove him wrong. He blinked a few more times, adjusted his sunglasses and even let Yaga shove his feet off the table.

He'd always bugged Geto to let him meet his so precious little brother one day, begging and bargaining. Maybe he'd tag along while Geto picked him up from school, or go to the park together, or heck, empty his pockets at the toy store!

Not-

"I don't understand. You're telling me Geto spared his brother and now you want me to do something about him?"

"We found him hiding in his closet, scared out of his mind." Yaga inhaled sharply. "Not surprising - he must've heard everything that happened. And it doesn't look like Geto spared him...more like he wasn't aware that he was home as well."

Nah. Gojo knew his friend - even if it seemed like he didn't after all.

He'd know, he'd know exactly where his brother was whether by instinct or not. He'd just chosen to overlook it on purpose.

"I know you're looking after Fushiguro's kids, aren't you? I know it's a lot to ask but I hope you can, I don't know, help him. He hasn't spoken a thing since we brought him here."

Gojo attempted to make a sarcastic quip, something around the lines of "man, I really must be the greatest Child Whisperer of all time".

He cleared his throat instead.

"He really wants a pet dog or cat, but he's allergic to fur, so you think he'd like pet fish?"

"I'm getting him that plushy we saw in a claw machine - he's kinda sad we didn't win it but he doesn't have to know I bought it from a store, heh."

"Sorry, can you take over this? My brother's participating in a competition and I don't wanna be late."

Damn, truly, how much had Geto changed? No wonder the kid was traumatized. To have his idolised, beloved big bro suddenly decide to go serial killer and his world flipped upside down, not understanding Jujutsu society. He wasn't a sorcerer either...he would have no one.

(Well, one, but Hell if Gojo was giving the kid up to-)

"Hey, it'll be good for Megumi to make friends, so why not?" Gojo stood and stretched. "Let's go meet the little squirt."

***

"Hi, kiddo...woah, you're so..."

Tiny. Small. Fragile. Gojo surmised that Geto had monopolized his family's genes of tallness all for him, or maybe it was because he had appeared to shrunk in on himself from all that crying and terror. He was still wiping at his streaming face after all. And - oh, it's that plush rabbit Geto made him buy when they passed by that store.

"You doing okay?" Gojo is hunkering down to his height, which was really giving his legs cramps, but he got a slight shake of the head in response. "It's alright. I don't all of us are, heh."

"Do you want anything? Uh, hungry, thirsty, I dunno, naps? Sorry, I'm not sure how little kids work and Megumi sucks at being a normal one. Do you want kikufuku?" Gojo reluctantly holds out his bag. "No? More for me - I mean, can I get you anything then?"

"...water s'okay."

"Gotcha."

The silence is awkward. Maybe he should've brought Toji's kids - Tsumiki was good at these sort of these things and Megumi...uh, Megumi was Megumi. "Nice rabbit. Y'know I bought it for you?"

"Suguru-nii told me."

"He did?" Gojo was momentarily taken aback. He thought Geto had wanted to keep his brother and the Jujutsu world completely separate, and, well, this meant- "Well, I do have good taste."

"The ribbon was ugly so we got a new one."

"Jeez, first meeting and you're already bullying me, huh? So mean, you and your brother - shitshitshit, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to - shit, don't cry, Yaga will kill me - oof?!"

The kid cried a literal puddle into Gojo's uniform. He used of the hands now around him to pat his back uncertainly. "Will Suguru-nii come back?"

"...he will." Gojo tightened his hold around the smaller figure; he was glad for his sunglasses to hide the-

"Just not the same as before."

"Why?"

"...you'll find out one day."

"Then I'm alone? Will the - them send me away?"

"Not while I'm here, kiddo. Don't worry."

***

"Faster, Megumi! Faster!"

"Shut up, you're heavy," The spiky haired boy grumbled, but hefted him a little more securely and picked up pace. The younger one on his back still nearly fell off giggling though. "You're squirming again."

A bright flash invaded their faces and left them blinking. "Ah, the kids all playing so happily, it makes me feel like a proud dad!"

"Stop taking photos."

"Nah, still taking."

"Gojo, tell him to stop pulling at my face - mmph!"

"Megumi's not smiling for the camera!"

"Aw, they're actually kinda cute." Shoko shakes her head, amused by Megumi being used as an overworked horse, taking her cigarette out of her mouth. "Hey, Gojo, if you ever don't want them one day I'm happy to adopt."

"You're just jealous I'm amazing and have amazing kids and you're not amazing and that will never happen."

Shoko stabs a finger at him. "Don't pretend you're not a terrible influence on them."

"Says the one smoking in front of them!"

"I didn't even light it yet."

"Whatever!" Gojo snapped another photo - it's definitely going onto the fridge, with Megumi's face in such an unflattering angle. The fridge is overcrowded with dozens of similar photos, but Gojo's sure he can make room for one more. Photos were the only thing permanent and certain, after all.

Who knew Geto would show up and try to take back-

"Gojo, Shoko, Gumi dropped me into the puddle!"

"I did not!"

***

"By the way, I heard you're taking care of another kid now, Gojo."

Instantly his guard was up. He should've known Geto would've turned around at the last second, amidst the crowds and sea of heads, to ask, to know - but it'd been so long and quiet. "I don't know why that interests you."

"So it's true." Geto turns around fully. "Can I have my brother back then? I missed him terribly ever since you all kidnapped him from me. I'm sure he's-"

"He's completely fine, but he won't be if I'm giving him back to you." Gojo shoved his way forward, closer. "You missed him? Sure didn't seem that way. I'm not going to let you kill him."

Geto actually has the audacity to look stunned. "Kill him? Why would I kill my brother?"

"Then why'd you kill your parents?"

"You won't understand. I want him back, and if you won't give him to me-"

"You'll try and get him yourself? What makes you think he'll want to go back to you?"

Geto tilts his head. "I'm his brother."

"Did you know he was in the house that day then?" No, Geto's surprised eyes said. Gojo clenched his fist. "He's not a Jujutsu sorcerer. God knows what you plan to do."

"I'll make him one."

Gojo nearly laughed. "What?"

"I'll make him into one. I promise you, Gojo, I don't care if all the demons of Hell stood in the way." Geto snapped his fingers. "I want him back, make no mistake."

"It won't be Hell's demons in your way, it'll be me. He doesn't want to see you!"

"But he needs me. And that's that."

I'm keeping him under lock and key now, Gojo swore to himself as he watched Geto disappear before hurrying away as well. Lock. And. Key.

[lunarharp]

uhh another modern au agott follow-up. They've gotten progressively sillier

[daisybell-on-a-carousel]

Still very wild to me when people try to gotcha Jason with the whole "if you can kill other people for being evil why can't they kill you" when jason is like. One of the most passively suicidal characters I've ever seen. What if man

[swordmaid]

i am wide awake thinking about that post canon jb au again when I should be sleeping …!!! such is the nature of the jbrainrot…

[internetdruid]

Evening, ladies

[lemedstudent2021]

Where should Jews live? Where do they belong? Where do you consider their native land to be? Honest question.

an honest question deserves an honest answer so here ya go:

Anywhere and everywhere. Jews- the followers of the Abrahamic religion Judaism- along with Muslims, Christians, Atheists, Sikhs, Vegans, and literally any human being under the sun have the right to live wherever they please (given certain criteria are met like visas and that it isnt a military station/ off limits area etc).

Yes my dear reader(s) you read that right; ones faith or lack thereof shouldnt be an obstacle in any aspect of ones life, be it medical services, education, job opportunities, so on and so forth. How novel.

That answers where they 'should' live (although I dont by any means impose anything on anyone; y'all do whatever as long as its legal and harms no one including yourself. God bless). Could is more accurate.

As for where they 'belong', this in my opinion is one of the beauties of religion: people from all walks of life can belong to a religion. Diversity lies at the heart of our existence as human beings and denying it is like denying the existence of the sun. Tolerance is a must if we are ever going to get along with each other. And this belonging isn't irrevocabley tied to geography. But I digress :)

Quick aside just so we're all on the same page: converting to a religion renders you just as valid and equal as someone born into a religion. Most if not all religions preach equality between their followers regardless of background, so i wont hear anything of 'oh theyre not real xyz' or 'they dont count' or any of that bs.

By this logic (religious demographics are, generally speaking, very diverse), there is no 'this set of people belong here, and those over there' ...and proof of that in a sense would be atheists/ agnostics; where would they 'belong'? Antarctica? Outer space? alright ill stop XD

If that were the case, most of the planet would be crammed in the Middle East lol [Syria, Jordan, and Lebanon alone are home to 34M (as of 2023), and the followers of the 3 main Abrahamic religions are an estimated 3.4B (as of 2020) globally. We wouldnt fit even if we used one of these]. Yeah nationality/ race/ ethnicity/ background influence and maybe even dictate one's religious identity, but it isn't the all or nothing we may think it to be.

Which brings us nicely to the next point, and here if you'll allow me i'd like to correct it to native land of Judaism (where it originated/ flourished/ spread whatever) as opposed to native land of Jews because as i mentioned above, a religion doesnt (or shouldnt) differentiate nor discriminate between its followers. By restricting them to one geographical location (and for some using it as an indicator of their authenticity) we do them great disservice as well as contradict the teachings themselves. A demonstration:

Im Jordanian right, (dad's maternal side are from bilad al sham; Syria) and im a born Muslim alhamdulillah. My dads Malaysian roommates from his uni days are also born Muslims (and have the best food lol, my all time favourite is lemak cili padi) and seperating us on the basis of them not being Arab or Middle Eastern is unislamic, intolerant, xenophobic, and wrong on every level. Alternatively, im just as Muslim as someone from Mecca or Medina. We're all Muslim. we are the world...

Circling back, Judaism the religion is native to the Holy land (I guess you can say it started in Egypt till it moved there but idk. Regardless), and Jews (adherants of the faith) can't in my humble opinion be fairly categorised as one monolithic unit... just like any and every other faith out there.

Another quick aside; this is merely a tumblr post that cant do the history and culture and intricacies and so much more of this matter a portion of the justice it deserves. I am but a tired medical student answering to the best of my abilities a question I was asked with my limited knowledge in theology and perspective in general, so do me a favour and keep that in mind. And to anyone reading this if you have questions or corrections or resources or anything you want to mention be my guest :)

If you're still here, I'm both grateful and amused. Here's what you probably came for, the piece de resistance if you will: 🍉israel🍉

Disclaimer: thanks for reading this far, but if you disagree in any way shape or form with any of the 30 human rights articles, you may as well stop reading and put your device through the shredder. Bigots, racists, fascists, anti vaxxers etc. dni

So far ive seen this idea, call it what you will, two times (which isnt a lot but its weird that it happened to me twice consecutively), that claims the freedom of Palestine equals a genocide of the Jews.

Er, no? No ma'am. One does not solve a genocide by comitting another genocide. What part of 'never again' are we missing here?

Before we get into politcal nominations and factions and other territories i dont plan on invading (pun intended) but might accidentally cross anyway (I forgot where i was going with this) i want to remind everyone that Judaism is not synonymous with Israel nor zionism (if u disagree with this go ahead and shred ur device too).

A refresher: Judaism is a religion, Israel is an illegal-occupying-apartheid-state, and Zionism is a movement/ ideology

So 'genocide of the Jews' is both wrong (diction) and more wrong (factually incorrect) in that the liberation of Palestine means freedom from oppression, discrimination, settler colonialism... the whole nine yards. Enough bloodshed already its been nearly 76 years.

When Netenyahu is eventually drop kicked out of office (and hopefully hung, drawn, and quartered for his plentiful warcrimes) what happens to the (illegal) citizens of Israel? Well first off, return the stolen homes and land to their rightful owners who have the keys (and documents if they werent tampered with or erased) to prove it.

As for the illegal-under-international-law settlements and new also illegal establishments; I have no idea what international laws will decree (not that I have that much faith in the judiciary system), but I assume they will be seized and evicted of the illegal tenants (how you like me now?) and given to those who have been displaced or homes ruined etc. because its theirs and theirs alone and it was unlawfully and cruelly taken away from them and not because the (remaining lol) former Israeli citizens can't or shouldn't live in palestine. they can go live somewhere where its legal. the priority is Palestinians tho.

What about the indigenous everyone else? As long as their houses aren't stolen or illegal they can should stay because its legal and its theirs and thats that. you cannot kick someone out of their home to give it to another (which was the basis of the creation of Israel.) because its ✨i l l e g a l✨

And the people who dont belong so to speak? I think this one's case by case; like I said at the very, very beginning; people have the right to live wherever as long as its legal and ok to do so regardless of faith or background, and no one should be denied their right to live in Palestine as a country like any other, but they certainly must be denied living in homes stolen and given to them because thats, say it with me now, illegal <3

[trainingdummyrabbit]

in conclusion the most poignant thing about ruina is its running theme of Imperfection. imperfection, focused not on its flaws, but on the miracle of it existing to begin with. imperfection not as a failing, but as a triumph. its cracked, broken, deeply in need of repair-- but it's real and its ours and it exists. despite everything it exists and that enough is a relief beyond words, beyond expression. to present a toppled structure not as a conclusion, but an opportunity.

its the choice-- and the joy-- of looking forward, unflinchingly, and facing it. one step at a time.

[sluckythewizard]

BUT IM NOT A WRITER. something strange possessed me to write my first proper fanfic in maybe a decade. be niceys to me but also grill me so i can get stronger. this one is a stupidly self indulgent bit between Soda and Emizel, a day or so after emizel was sired. CW for gore descriptions, but thats about it i think. image below is a snippet of the start. the rest of the whole dang thing will be under the cut. ive never posted fanfic ever in my life. read my tags for secret behind da scenes commentary

"Oh shit… I think hes dead…" It was another night, another patrol, another fight, and another win, for Emizel and Soda.

Under moonlight, under street light, under interwoven wires above, the two stood here in a quiet and damp alleyway. The air was drenched with the smell of a previous rain, and the puddles of said storm remain huddled in corners and pot holes.

One splashed as soda found himself stepping forwards into one. The residual adrenaline of the fight had left his body shaking, his heart still pounding, his wounds still throbbing. They had still won; or more-so, Emizel had won. A particularly nasty blow to the side had Soda reduced to the side lines for most of the fight, left to watch as his newly vampiric comrade had absolutely eviscerated the competition.

Emizel had only been turned a day ago, but it was impossible not to notice how it had changed him. He already acted so goddamn confident, so on top of the world, and this newfound power, newfound speed and strength, only built upon his insane ego.

The Fangs that they encountered here on this night stood no fucking chance. Emizel was too quick, too strong, and he easily chased off the rivals. It was only now, as the final unfortunate opponent had turned to flee, a clean clock in the jaw sent the human tumbling to the ground with a dull thump, and it did not move afterward.

Soda shifts his shoe out of the puddle, the cold seeping into his sock being one of the few things keeping his mind in his body in the moment. Is the guy breathing?

A low laugh bleeds from Emizel as he stretches his arms, licking his sharpened teeth as he stares off in the direction the remaining Fangs went. Soda knew that look on his face, the look of a tiger pondering on its next kill, he knew well that Emizel wanted to chase them.

But the guy on the ground.. It was one punch to the face, and the wicked crack sound that came from it had planted a seeding dread within Sodas chest.

As he steps forward, around the puddle, the resulting sound made Emizels attention click back over to Soda, the snap of his gaze making Soda flinch.

The two lock eyes, and Soda weakly gestures to the limp body on the floor. "The uh.. I think.. Is that guy dead?" He finally asks, having a hard time keeping contact with Emizels intensely red eyes.

Emizel turns his attention to said body, tilting his head as he goes to kick at the thing, turning it over. "Man no way hes dead, I punched him once." He mutters.

"Well, yeah, but his head almost twisted all the way around when you did.." Soda steps up to stand beside Emizel, the two boys standing with their hands in their pockets, down at this unfortunate, limp body.

"Should we hide it?" Soda asks, glancing back over at Emizel, who had.. An odd look on his face. He was clearly pondering something, but Soda could only guess whatever was going on in that brilliant head of his. He knew and trusted that Emizel was smart. If anyone could figure out what to do about this, it would be him.

But the lack of an answer had anxiety chewing at the back of Sodas rib cage, and after a second, he speaks up again, compelled to fill what he perceived as a tense silence. "Like.. I dunno, I've never uh... killed a guy..." He shrugs, prompting Emizel to let out a big sigh.

"He's not dead man, just out fuckin cold." Emizel kneels down next to the body, putting an ear up to its chest, and pondering on that for a moment. An uncertainty twists his expression, as he decides to instead place a hand on the victims throat, checking for a pulse. A moment passes, and seemingly finding nothing, he pulls back.

"Uh... Okay, so he might be dead."

Something about the confirmation from Emizel made a shiver run up Sodas spine. That, or maybe it was just the breeze agitating the cold water in his shoe.

"Huh… Damn.." Was all that Soda could really get to leave his mouth. Which was hardly a splash compared to the torrent that was slowly churning in his head. They just killed a guy. Or, Emizel just killed a guy. And it was so easy. They had to hide the body now, right? That was the usual progression here? Getting caught for murder was way more extreme than getting caught for breaking mailboxes with soda cans. It was so, so disturbingly easy. It really was just one punch. It's not like the Fangs are weak by any means, so just one punch? And this guy is dead? Forever?

Or, perhaps by human means, their rivals were fairly tough. But Emizel was on a whole other level. No mortal could stand up to him now...

"Hey, are you okay?"

The question had pulled Soda back from his head, his gaze flicking back over to Emizel, who was looking up at him with those eerie, piercing red eyes. Soda felt another shiver.

"Uh, ieah man, I'm all good." Soda nods, swallowing down whatever anxiety was bubbling up in his throat.

But Emizel didn't seem satisfied by his answer, standing back up and staring down his human comrade. Soda couldn't meet his eyes, his gaze instead traveling downward, and pausing on Emizels red, cut-up shirt. There was something off about the color, the way it seemed darker in some spots, brighter in others.. Wait, wasn't Emizel wearing a white shirt before all this?

The vampire boy seems to pick up on Sodas expression, following his eyes down to his shirt. "Oh, yeah! While you were on the floor, the knife guy got me a little" He says, a stupidly simple smile on his face. Soda was about to let out a laugh at how unbothered his friend seemed by it, but it gets caught in his throat when Emizel goes to pull his shirt up.

The sound of the bloodied fabric peeling away from skin made Sodas own skin crawl, but that wasn't nearly as bad as the sight of the intense gash running from his collar bone, down to his stomach.

"Oh, fuck dude!" Soda gasps, but Emizel laughs it off. Even despite knowing Emizel well, Soda was still surprised by just how much Emizel could shrug off. "Shit, doesn't that hurt, dude?"

"Oh yeah this fucking hurts!" he says with a laugh, his smile big and toothy and proud as he presents this egregious wound. Swollen and angry, pulsing with a slow heartbeat, and still oozing with thick, dark blood.

The sight of the split flesh, and the glints of bone beneath the dark, dark red all tugged at Sodas gag reflex, and yet he couldn't pull his eyes away. So Emizel's just been walking and talking so normally this whole time with his chest just cleaved wide open? Soda felt just as impressed as he felt horrified.

It wasn't until Emizel reaches down to poke at the abhorrent wound that Soda snaps out of it. Watching his friend press his fingers into the bloodied flesh, and slowly pulling it apart, allowing more ichor to seep from the gash, it was too much to watch at this point.

Soda reaches up to put a hand on Emizels wrist, the vampire boy stopping, and looking up at his friend.

Soda found himself freezing again when he locks eyes with Emizel. He was going to say something now, right? "U-uhm.." Is all he really chokes out, giving Emizels wrist a gentle tug. "D-do you. Uh. I suppose a hospital Isn't a place you can go anymore..?"

Emizel just smirks at that, letting Soda pull his hand away from the wound. "Oh, yeah no, but it's fine. I mean, I don't think it's gonna kill me" He shrugs. It was so, so impressive just how unphased Emizel was by all this. Fuck he's actually so cool.

"Well yeah man but it's like, still a bleeding hole. Like you're soaked in blood dude, I'm pretty sure that even a vampire needs that stuff on like, the inside." Soda rubs the back of his head, still unnerved by the sight of it all. "Vampires have like, super healing, don't they?"

"Oh yeah like, regeneration powers. I know I heal faster sometimes but I dunno how to just, activate it on command.." Emizel hums, his eyes narrowing down at his own injury, as if trying to will it into mending. Soda looks away, unable to watch that vile gash ooze any longer.

"I dunno man, how do they do it in like, video games?" Soda tosses the question out, trying to click together some sort of solution in his own head.

"Uhhh.. Huh, video games.." Emizel repeats to himself, chewing on the thought while idly poking at the laceration; until an idea audibly flickers to life in his head. "Oh, I just gotta refill my blood meter. Or whatever."

"Oooh yeah, blood meter!" Soda perks up, "Of course, see this is why you're the brains, man" Soda smiles, glancing back over to his cool friend, but immediately needing to look away again when the sight of that egregious gash tugs bile back into his throat.

While Soda averts his eyes, Emizels eyes wander back over to the body, and that classic 'Emizel has a bad idea' smile creeps across his face.

"Well, if this guys dead, I'm sure he's not gonna need all that blood.." He grins, kneeling down next to the body again.

The word 'wait' had hardly gotten the chance to crawl from Sodas mouth, before Emizel lifts up the arm of the unfortunate body, pulling the sleeve back, and immediately sinking his teeth into the exposed wrist.

The sound and the sight of blood gushing around Emizels teeth made Soda cringe, his hand impulsively coming up to aide his own wrist. An empathetic phantom pain made his wrist ache, his imagination simulating the feeling of shark teeth cutting into skin, sinking deep into the flesh, and clacking against bone. That was a lot of blood, that was streaming down the arm of this fodder.

A low growl bleeds from Emizel as he adjusts his teeth, cutting into more flesh, opening the wound further, and allowing a pulsing torrent of red to stream down his chin, onto his coat. It was an annoying thing, to clean blood out of clothing. Most of the Demons deemed it easier to just let the stains remain. But the night that Emizels throat was torn open, and liters upon liters were granted freedom from his human form, the unbelievable mess had practically changed half the color of Emizels iconic coat.

That was the first time Soda had ever seen that much blood from one person. And well. This would probably be the second.

The sight was unnerving, but it was impossible to look away. The alley was quiet, save for the distant bustle of a distant city, which made the noisy squish and squelch of teeth gnawing on flesh all the more apparent and nauseating.

Emizel had become a monster for sure, and watching it feed on something was… thrilling, in a way. It reminded Soda of feeding a pet spider, or lizard. A mouse for a snake.

It's a heavy thing to witness, the end of a human life. The fear of death is a primal thing, and Soda was no different from any other living thing. He figured everyone else feared death just as much as he does. Well, maybe except for Emizel, of course.

It made sense. Emizel was such a cocky and noisy kind of guy, but hes always had the power to back it up. Even when he lost, or seemed at his lowest, Soda still saw this sort of fire in him, one that Soda admired.

Of course Emizel would be the one to become something like a vampire. Something that Soda had always figured was just a fantasy creature thing. He wondered; if vampires were real, what else was real? Werewolves? Zombies? Unicorns? Are there real demons? Like from hell? Is hell real? Is he going to hell?

The sudden ttteeeeaaaaarrrr of flesh rips soda from his wandering thoughts. Emizel was tugging his head away from the arm of his kill, his teeth clamped down into the chewed meat, and pulling it apart. Soda had seldom seen so much of the inside of a human arm, and the sight of spilling threads and squirming veins was hardly something he ever wanted to stomach again.

"Oh fuck, dude, hey-" Soda steps forward, raising a hand, but the way Emizel snaps his head back over to him, twisting to an unnatural degree, Soda cant help jolting back.

Reddened teeth glint menacingly in the low light, a threatening growl thundering from its clenched, dripping jaws. Emizels eyes were focused, yet wild, glowing with whatever light they could reflect.

Sodas eyes were wide, and his body was frozen in the thick, electric tension within the air. It was like staring down an angry dog.. Suddenly a light bulb in his head flickers to life. It was kind of like an angry dog, right? One hunched over a meal it didn't want to give up. Memories of old encounters and unfortunate dog bites resurface in Sodas head, and with that experience, and with those lessons learned, he gathers the courage to react.

He shuts his eyes, keeping them closed for a few seconds, as he slowly pulls back his arm, and slowly steps back. It was an eye contact thing, wasn't it? Eye contact makes dogs angry, right? That was how you dealt with an angry dog? As he pulls back, and takes in a breath for composure, he finally dares to peek at the angry vampire before him again.

Its snarling had died down, but its eyes were still trained intently on Soda. After a tense, and agonizingly, slow pause... It blinks back, lowering its head back down to its meal, but keeping its anxious stare on this potential threat.

A relieved sigh falls from soda as the tension finally melts. He didnt realize he was holding in so much of his breath. "O-okay, man.. It's yours, you uh.. Earned it.." Soda mutters, stepping back further, until he was standing in a sufficiently dry enough space to sit down in. Now that he wasn't standing, he was finally taking into mind just how much his hands were shaking.

It's odd. Soda couldn't really describe this feeling thrumming in his chest as something like fear.. Nausea? For sure. Disturbed and rattled? Oh absolutely. This was certainly a sight he would have a hard time scrubbing from his eyelids when he sleeps tonight. But he wasn't scared. The memory of the night that Emizel was sired still coated the inside of his mind like an unwashable film. Even in that moment, when the unnatural teeth from the unnatural maw of an unnatural thing hovered over his throat, he couldn't say with confidence that he was scared.

Emizel really is his best friend in the world. And he knows with his whole heart that Emizel feels the same. He knew and trusted that his best friend would never hurt him. Not too badly at least. He loves Emizel, and would give anything to support him.

Like a mouse to a snake.

This really is an incredible power that his comrade had come across, and Soda especially felt a sort of pride in his friend. He felt it was worth it to help him feed it.

The bile in his throat had made its point, and Soda agreed, that watching someone die, and get torn apart and drained might be too much for him. Despite how much he hated the Fangs, the end of any human life seemed like such a jarring thing. To have such an intense fear finally get confronted. Would he go to hell?

Maybe he couldn't just feed people to his friend. So an alternative could be donated blood, right? Soda wouldn't mind giving up something like blood. His body makes it for free, after all. Maybe some other Demons would agree to give up some blood too. But they shouldn't have to take on such a burden. Soda wouldn't mind being the only one. The only one. The only one.

His hand comes up to rub at his neck, as his imagination conjures up what it might feel like to have teeth sink into his flesh. He's been stabbed before, is that sort of what it would feel like? Would he have to get stitches? He didn't really want to get stitches, so maybe there could be a more effective way to get the blood out of him. And there was so much vital stuff in his neck too. There's' a vein that's safe to cut into somewhere, right? He would have to look that up later.

A STARTLING RINGING;

Splits the moment,

Prompting both Soda and Emizel to jolt in shock,

As the phone in Emizels pocket rings away.

Acting as if nothing abnormal had taken place, Emizel pulls out his phone, and answers it.

"Heyy, Johnny! Yeah we chased em off, I don't think those bastards will be infesting this street again anytime soon. Yeah, ieah we'll be heading back soon. Oh fuck yeah dude, save us some!"

Emizel covers the speaker of his Nokia, turning back to Soda with a big smile on his violently bloodied face. "They got some pizza waiting for us back home, dude!" he whispers out to him.

Soda does his best to crack a smile, and to suppress the look of unease that probably stained his face, as he stares at the literal murder scene that's been splattered about in front of him.

"Oh, yeah, hell yeah man.." He swallows down the bile again. "What kind of uh.. Soda did they get?"

Emizel ponders that, before turning back to the phone to ask Sodas question.

"Sprite and a big pack of that one strawberry mountain dew" Emizel tosses the answer back over to Soda, who gives a nod, and thumbs up.

Mountain dew is so neat, Soda really liked all the wacky flavors those guys come up with. The thought of going home and opening a can of soda was certainly a comfort. After witnessing all this blood and gore and viscera, Soda absolutely needed to get back home and get a nice cold glass of something bright red .

As Sodas mind wanders off to soda, Emizel wraps up the conversation on the phone, before hanging up, and standing up.

The movement had pulled Sodas mind back into the moment, enough for him to timidly voice a concern he's had since the start of this debacle.

"Uh, hey, so.. The body, should we… Uh.." He gestures vaguely to it, and Emizel grants it a nonchalant glance.

"Eh, I can toss it into a dumpster or something, I dunno. I'm sure its fine. I'll handle it."

The vampire boy goes to pick up the corpse, the wound in its mangled arm no longer even dripping with blood, the flesh pale from the absolute absence of red in its veins.

"Go ahead and meet me by that one mailbox, the one with the bullet hole in it." Emizel casually instructs, tossing the drained body over his shoulder. "I'll catch up."

"Uh, yeah, okay.." Soda musters up a nod, and the strength to rise back up to his feet, wincing as that bruise on his side makes itself loudly known again. He still felt anxious, but even despite it all, he knew he could trust Emizel to take care of things. He always does. "Just stay safe man, I'll see you there." Soda assures with a smile, and Emizel matches it, tossing him a wink. And then suddenly- -He's gone! If Soda had blinked he would've missed it, but he was fortunate enough to just barely catch the glimpse of Emizel darting off at an inhuman speed, probably looking for a place to dump the body. Right, he would take care of it. Emizel always makes sure his crew is taken care of. Well... Guess all that's left for Soda is for him to walk back to that meeting spot. He looks around the alley for a moment, taking in the sight of that enormous pool of blood in the middle of the concrete. Or whatever the floor of this alley is made from. He ponders on the present moment a little longer than he meant to, the shock of it all leaving him aimless for just a few, soothing moments of just, decompression. The night is quiet, vast, and cold, but the stresses of just the past 5 hours had left his body radiating with fiery aches and pains, so the chill of the occasional clawing breeze was welcomed. Except for when said breeze agitated the cold water still soaked into his sock. He should step in another puddle on his way back to even it out. The smell of rain still rested heavy in the air, heralding another storm on the horizon. There was that, and then, well, there was also the blood. The stench of it felt far too intense to just ignore it, the metallic miasma making itself maliciously unmistakable. Maybe the impending storm will wash this mess away... He looked forward to putting this unfortunate night behind him. With one last rattled, but deep breath, he stuffs his hands in his pockets, and turns away, strolling back over to the mailbox that Emizel had described.

He couldn't wait to get home and drink some soda with his friends.

[nightfal1n]

*Reads Galaxias (serialization) chapter 1*

"Hey we got dragon Hoshina here and he looks very sas"

*Dragon Hoshina got a 1st episode villain/future rival humiliated defeat treatment*

".....Well not exactly vice capt but glad you 'survived'"