#THAT TRAILER WAS SO FUCKIN GOOD

[labratboygirl]

so. ena fandom. how we feelin out there tonight

[clarionglass]

here we go :) part one of three, updates to be released weekly!

---

sam says 4 (game master cinematic universe, part 3)

Ruby was at her mum's for a family dinner she couldn't miss on pain of death, apparently, and the Doctor was many things, but a family dinner kind of guy wasn't one of them—particularly when Carla had already slapped him once in the short time he'd known her. He thought he'd broken his streak of bad luck with mums, but… well, seemingly not. So he was companionless for a few hours, and while he could wait for her to get back, maybe catch up on his reading—what was the point of waiting when you had a time machine? 

He ran his hands over the TARDIS console, marvelling at her clean lines and metallic flourishes, the way that even now she felt brand new but familiar, and paused. He’d just pop off for a quick adventure, nothing too dangerous, but—where to go?

He could scan for a distress call nearby, and pitch in to help. He could drop in on Donna and Shaun and Rose, beautiful Rose, and see how they were all doing. Or he could just hit the randomiser button, and jump in feet first wherever he ended up.

He remembered a conversation from a long time ago, when he wore a different face, and his gorgeous TARDIS wore a face too, for the first and only time.

“You didn't always take me where I wanted to go.”

“No, but I always took you where you needed to go.”

He grinned. Who could resist an offer like that? He pressed the button and whooped as the time rotor spun into action, ready to see where the universe would take him.

---

Apparently, he was needed pretty close to where he already was. Earth, 2024. Huh. Same planet, same time—within a few months of where he’d left Ruby, even. The main thing that had changed was the location: he was now in the good old US of A. California, to be more specific, and Los Angeles to be more specific still. And to really narrow it down, the Doctor discovered as he poked his head out of the TARDIS doors, he was in… a broom closet. Not bad, as a parking spot—a bit squeezy, but out of the way. And as he poked his head out of that door, he could finally see he was in the backstage corridors of a studio of some kind. Film or TV, if he was to hazard a guess, it was a different vibe from Abbey Road.

With a shrug, he decided to go exploring.

It couldn’t have been more than a minute before a young woman wearing the full-black outfit, headset, and permanently stressed expression of a production assistant came running up to him.

“Are you the fill-in Sam organised?” she asked breathlessly, and honestly, seeing the look on her face, the Doctor didn’t have the heart(s) to tell her no. And really, what was the Doctor, if not a professional fill-in? This, this was why he had a randomiser button on the control panel, because whatever he was about to get himself into was going to be fun.

“Sure!”

“Oh, thank god,” sighed the production assistant, relief dawning across her face. “When Ally tested positive this morning, I thought we were sunk for the record, because we called around and we couldn’t get a hold of anyone. But then Sam said he could get someone in, and, you know, here you are, and just in time, so—ah, yeah, if you could follow me this way?”

Smiling all the way, the Doctor followed his guide through to hair and makeup, looking around as they went. The studio seemed to belong to a company called Dropout, according to the branding scattered around, and things seemed, at least on the surface, to be… well. Fine. He couldn't tell why he'd been brought here yet, which meant that when he found the reason, it was going to be particularly tangled. He couldn't wait! 

And then he looked back at his guide, still engulfed in a miasma of anxiety, and realised he'd been too busy looking for clues to notice the person right in front of him. 

“Hey, it's cool, you've found me,” he started with a gentle smile. “You can relax. Hi, I'm the Doctor. What's your name?”

“Oh!” she said, startled. “The Doctor, yeah, of course. Um, hi, I'm Kaylin. Look, sorry, it's just that I've been so busy this morning, I'm so distracted… Shit, and I would've completely forgotten to get your details too. There's paperwork to fill in, but you can do that later. Um, just for now, though, can I get your pronouns?”

The Doctor thought for a moment. “He/him, for now.”

Kaylin nodded, making a note on her phone. “Okay, cool! And do you have any socials?”

“Not me, babes,” he replied. “I'm hardly sitting down long enough to be able to update, you know?”

“On a day like this, I know exactly what you mean,” she said. “That's okay, Lou didn't have socials either for the longest time. Right, so if you go through there, the team will get you sorted, and once you're done, someone will take you up to the greenroom. All good?”

“All great,” the Doctor replied. Kaylin flashed him a quick, relieved smile, then hurried off.

Hair and makeup was a fairly quick process, the sound mixer fitted him with a microphone, and before too long, Kaylin was back to take him upstairs. 

“This is the greenroom,” she said, pushing the door open. “The rest of the cast for the episode are already here—they’re great guys, and they’ve both been on the show a lot, so they’ll be able to help if you’ve got questions. And if you need anything else, just come find me or any of the other PAs, okay?”

The Doctor nodded, beamed at Kaylin, and walked in.

---

The greenroom was small but comfortable, and its occupants, two men around the same age as the Doctor appeared, looked up as he entered.

“Oh, you’re new,” the taller of the pair said, clearly giving him the once-over.

The other sighed with a mixture of fondness and exasperation, just as clearly used to his friend’s antics.

“Hey, I’m Brennan,” he said, levering himself up to standing from his perch on a chair arm, and holding out a hand. “That’s Grant.”

The Doctor took it warmly. “The Doctor. Just passing through, and happy to help.”

Grant’s eyebrows quirked. “Doctor… something?” he prompted.

“Or is it just ‘the Doctor’?” Brennan asked.

“Just ‘the Doctor’,” the Time Lord confirmed cheerfully. “You’ll get used to it, everyone does.”

Grant didn’t look convinced, but—

“Copy that,” Brennan shrugged, and settled back on the arm of the chair, returning his gaze to the door.

Grant, in turn, looked at the Doctor and rolled his eyes in a clear expression of ‘no, I don’t know why he’s like this, either’.

“Okay,” the Doctor said after a moment of watching the watching. “I wasn’t going to ask, but now I think I have to. What’s up with the door?”

Brennan huffed a laugh. “Well, the last time there was one of those up—” he pointed to the Out of Order sign stuck to the bathroom door, “—we got locked in here for the game.”

“He’s paranoid,” Grant interjected.

“Well, yeah, maybe,” Brennan retorted. “Or just cautious. Because Sam’s been acting weird lately, and we’re coming up to the last few records of the season, so he’s probably planning something way out of the box for the finale. And the original cast was you, me and Beardsley, so…”

He shrugged one shoulder meaningfully, and Grant nodded, conceding both the point and the potential for chaos.

“So if Sam comes in to give us the briefing, rather than waiting til we’re on set,” Brennan continued, “or there’s anything else weird going on, I’m gonna know about it right from the beginning.”

He turned to the Doctor. “The only reason I'm not quizzing you is because I know for a fact Beardsley was genuinely scheduled for this, so you can't be a plant by the production team. No offence.”

“None taken,” the Doctor smiled. “That sort of thing happen often, does it?”

Grant and Brennan exchanged a look. 

“More than you'd think,” Grant answered with a grimace. 

“Alright,” the Doctor said slowly, then brightened. “So what is it we're actually doing?”

Grant gave him a disbelieving glance. “You don't know—?”

“Very last minute fill-in,” the Doctor said breezily. “But don't worry, I'm a quick study.”

“Well, you're not that much worse off than the rest of us,” Brennan said encouragingly. “You know about Game Changer, obviously, if you know Sam, and we only find out the rules of the game once we get on set. Hopefully,” he added, with a dark look back at the Out of Order sign. 

The Doctor nodded. No, he didn't know Sam, and he didn't know Game Changer, but he could work out the situation from context clues. This was a game show. And with the Toymaker banished, and Satellite Five not coming into existence for another 198000 years, give or take, he found himself smiling. Maybe third time would be the charm. 

“Mmm, hopefully they aren't going to throw you in the deep end,” Grant said. “Because Brennan might seem lovely now, but as soon as we get out there, he's a whore for points. He'll stab you in the back and won't even blink.”

Brennan barked with laughter. “Yeah, and you wouldn't?”

“Excuse you, I'm always a goddamn delight,” Grant replied, the very picture of injured dignity. 

“Oh, absolutely!” agreed a new voice. The Doctor turned to the now-open door to see a bearded man in a pinstriped suit smiling broadly. “That's why we keep inviting you back!”

Grant bowed sarcastically. “Why, thank you, Sam. Good to know I'm appreciated by someone here.”

“Always,” Sam replied, gently but firmly ending that particular path of the conversation. He scanned the room, and his eyes lit up when they landed on the Doctor. 

“Ah, you must be the Doctor!” he said with obvious delight, walking over with his hand outstretched. “I'm Sam—thanks for filling in for us, you've made sure we're going to have a good show. Seriously, it's a pleasure to have you here.”

“Aw, cheers!” the Doctor smiled, shaking the offered hand. “Glad I could help out, I'm really looking forward to this!”

“Well, great!” Sam exclaimed, then took a step back, regarding all three players in turn. “Now, folks, I'm just letting you know that we're just about ready to start the record, so if you can start heading down, that'd be great.”

Grant and Brennan nodded—Brennan, the Doctor noticed, with relief. 

“See you down there,” Sam said, smiling. “Have a great show, and—”

His eyes caught on the Doctor's for a second, twinkling. 

“Good luck.”

---

Backstage, the Doctor, Brennan and Grant were marshalled into podium order and given a final briefing from the crew. And then, with a thumbs-up from Kaylin, that was it.

Showtime.

“Get ready for a Game Changer!” came Sam's voice from onstage. “Tonight’s guests: he can shoot off a monologue with laser accuracy; it’s Brennan Lee Mulligan!”

Brennan, his back to the camera as the curtains opened, spun on his heel and, with a stone-cold expression, pointed finger guns straight down the barrel, before letting the facade crack open. “Hi!” he exclaimed, and walked over to the leftmost podium.

“It’s his first appearance, but he’s already on fire; it’s the Doctor!”

The Doctor leant against the archway to the stage and flashed a broad smile towards the camera, then in a few skipping steps, had bounded over to the next free podium. What the hell, why not make an entrance?

“And even in the toughest of mazes, you’ll always be able to find him; it’s Grant O’Brien!”

Grant dipped his lanky frame into an approximation of a curtsey, spreading his arms wide, then sauntered over to the closest podium with a grin.

“And your host, me!” Sam announced, a ring of manic white showing around his irises as he beamed down the barrel of the camera. “I’ve been here the whole time!”

“This,” he continued, pushing his microphone shut and stowing it in his jacket pocket, “is Game Changer, the only game show where the game changes every show. I am your host, Sam Reich!” 

As he said his name, he looked at his hands, front and back, as if he was pleasantly surprised to be himself, then gestured towards the three podiums.

“I am joined today by these three lovely contestants! Now, you understand how the game works.”

“Of course not,” Grant started. “You know we don't.”

“We can't, Sam, that's the whole point of the theatre you've set up here,” Brennan said over him. 

“Not yet,” was all the Doctor said, anticipation starting to drum a tattoo of excitement against the inside of his ribcage. 

“That’s right!” Sam said brightly, shooting finger guns at the camera. “Our players have no idea what game it is they’re about to play. The only way to learn is by playing. The only way to win is by learning, and the only way to begin is by beginning! So without further ado, let’s begin by giving each of our players fifty points.”

The Doctor, biding his time, watched the reactions of his fellow contestants. Grant looked at the front of his podium, checking the point total, and nodding approvingly when he saw that yes, it was sitting at a round fifty. Brennan, on the other hand, was starting to frown.

“Players, Sam says: touch your nose,” Sam began, and Brennan sighed the sigh of someone who wasn’t happy to be proved right.

“Oh, no,” he groaned. “Oh, you son of a bitch. Wasn’t one this season enough?”

He touched his nose anyway, as did the others, and Sam smiled encouragingly. “Sam says: touch your ear.”

When they all did, Sam nodded. “Touch your other ear.”

Everybody held still, fingers on the ears they had originally touched.

Sam beamed. “Easy, players, right?”

“You say that now,” Brennan said darkly. “Which makes it worse, because all you're doing is setting us up for failure.”

Sam gasped, pretending offence. “Would I do that?”

“Yes,” Brennan and Grant replied in unison, which drew a grin from the Doctor and set Sam off chuckling.

“And I'm not having it,” Brennan continued, leaning his elbows against his podium and pointing at Sam with the hand not touching his ear. “You better watch yourself, because I know how this game works, and you're not going to get one over on me.”

“Strong words, Brennan!” Sam said, clearly delighted by this response. “Okay, then, let's start making things a bit more interesting!”

The game continued as per Sam Says usual, some rounds done as a group and some individual. Points were won, sure, but lost slightly more frequently, and even the Doctor found he was having to concentrate to avoid getting caught in the host's traps. 

It was fun. Genuinely, it was like playing a game with friends, and the Doctor felt himself leaning into it. There wasn't any sign of danger—maybe there wasn't a mystery to solve at all, and the TARDIS just decided he needed a total break. 

Well, probably not. But the way things were going, he was able to let himself hope. 

“Alright, players,” Sam said a good few rounds in, just as pleasantly as he would start any other question, and the screen behind him dinged as a new prompt popped up. “Survive the death beam.”

For a second, everything was frozen perfectly still. 

And then came the crash, the explosive noise of heavy machinery moving relentlessly through a drywall set.

The Doctor was already moving. “Everyone down!”

“Duck!” Brennan yelled at the same time.

The two of them hit the ground within milliseconds of each other, but Grant was still paralysed in the face of the giant, science-fiction type laser cannon that had just ploughed through the wall. 

It whined ominously, screaming its way to fever pitch. And then a sharp pain in Grant’s ankle made him stagger, pitching forwards onto the carpet behind the podiums as the Doctor rolled away to avoid getting pinned.

“Sorry, babes,” the Doctor whispered. “But it was either kick you to get you down, or—”

A hideous metallic screech ripped through the air, and all three of them could feel the crackle of ozone as a beam of energy swept across what had, moments ago, been neck height.

“…Or that,” the Doctor finished with a grimace.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Grant breathed, suddenly very conscious of every inch of his 6’9 frame. “Thanks.”

“Well done, players!” Sam exclaimed delightedly from above them. “But… sorry, I didn’t say ‘Sam says’, so that’s a point off for everyone.”

“What the fuck!” Brennan snapped.

“Are you actually insane?” Grant demanded at the same time, his voice overlapping with Brennan’s.

In response, Sam just wheezed with laughter. “You can come back to your podiums,” he said, cheerfully ignoring them.

Nobody moved.

“Very good!” he acknowledged, and even without seeing his face, the grin was obvious in his voice. “Okay, Sam says: come back to your podiums.”

Although the words were innocuous, and his tone was just as light and breezy as usual, there was nevertheless an edge hiding just underneath the surface. And while the death beam loomed large in the minds of all three players, it was impossible to consider disobedience as an option.

Slowly, they stood, returning to their places. Now they had the time to look at it properly, the death beam was even more sinister, and Brennan and Grant both kept flicking nervous glances its way, ready to move if it looked like it was charging up again.

The Doctor, however, was focused purely on the man standing in front of them. Unbothered, Sam met his gaze like a challenge, a mischievous smile playing about his lips.

“Oh, you’ll love this one,” he said, and the screen changed. “Sam says, starting with Grant: say my name.”

Grant frowned in confusion, but answered quickly nonetheless. “Sam Reich?”

The man himself shrugged tolerantly, moving on. “Brennan?”

Brennan just stared at him coolly. “Do you take me for a fool?”

“Well caught, Brennan!” Sam said happily. “Sam says: say my name.”

“Sam,” Brennan replied, suspicion clear in his voice. “Samuel Dalton Reich.”

He nodded, still with a hint of indifference. “And lastly, Doctor.” His smile broadened. “Sam says: say my name.”

It was easy. Too easy. And as the Doctor looked into the eyes of the man calling himself Sam Reich, he felt his hearts stutter in recognition, because something had changed. He wasn’t hiding himself anymore, and while the face was different yet again, the Doctor would know the shape of that soul anywhere. It was impossible. It was inevitable.

“You can’t be,” he breathed. 

Sam smirked, leaning in across his podium. “Oh, but Doctor… I’ve been here the whole time,” he stage-whispered with a wink.

“He said you lost,” the Doctor said, shaking his head, looking wrong-footed for the first time that Brennan and Grant could recall. “You lost, and he trapped you.”

The other two watched, uncomprehending, but Sam just smiled, drumming his fingers against the podium with an audible beat, fast but distinct. Four taps, four taps, four taps. “I’m waiting.”

The Doctor took a slow, deep breath. Set his jaw. 

“Master.”

---

missed an installment of the game master cinematic universe?

original idea by @ace-whovian-neuroscientist: x

art by @northernfireart concept: x scissor sisters sketch: x sam and his doppelganger: x

writing by me (!) part one (escape the greenroom): x part two (deja vu): x part three (sam says 4): you are here!

[fandomfan315]

Jon - "Well, let me know if you see any good cows-"

Martin - "Obviously I'm going to tell you if I see any good cows"

[Ep 160: The Eye Opens, ~7:55]

I don't recall if I've posted much Magnus Archive content here but <3 I do enjoy it like a dessert sometimes. Anyways I'm obsessed w their dynamic this was so married of the two SKNFSNFN

[thirdmagic]

thinking about her (this closer-to-the-novel version of gankutsuou eugine danglars)

[chloecorvid]

I'm gonna be soooo normal about The Vengence Saga (EPIC the musical) when it drops in like..10 minutes.

[banchuuya]

no thoughts only dazai in the new trailer 😮‍💨

[cluescorner]

Me: Who drops a big trailer at 3:00 AM? 

Hoyo: OH BOY, 3 AM!!

[hell0mega]

i showed my mom the trailer for Underworld with no context, just said "look out for anyone you may recognize" and at the end she was like uuuuh first of all this looks sick as hell but i didn't notice anyone?

so i showed it to her again, and then during the THIRD TIME and she said "... is that supposed to be Michael?!" i said yes and she was freaking out like HE LOOKS SO DIFFERENT IN EVERY ROLL and i said I KNOW IT'S INCREDIBLE

[samwisefamgee]

god wants me to kill myself sooooo fucking bad lately lol nice try bitch im queer

[retro-system]

oh the next wave comes out next week yippeeee!!!!

[pineyw00dsshesquatch]

Me and my husband with our 90's Ford trucks. Also the Altima we just sold had a shifter issue we had screwdriver in the center console for.

NO PAYMENTS AND CHEAP INSURANCE THO

Back in yonder days when we lived in the burbs and both had to work and commute and "needed good cars" it felt like all our money was devoured by said payments and insurance.

This new setup is annoying, but at least we can reach the spark plugs and there's no giant fucking screens in the dashboards.

FUCK DASHBOARD SCREENS MY ND ASS CAN'T DO IT.

going to work 😌

[hypnagogics]

fate of atlantis is the best dlc ever made no one can change my mind 🙂

[wp100]

also the Dark Heart Cinematic with Khadgar, Alleria and Jaina has amazing animation. The little details with the lip smacks, sighing, other lil noises they make when they speak. It looks and feels so natural!

and not to mention, they don't speak so slowly anymore. Oh my god that has bothered me since, like, Legion or BfA (Mostly Shadowlands-Dragonflight because I didn't play much of Legion and barely caught up with the story during BfA when I returned after focusing on high school).

It's just really well put together. Haven't felt this excited over a WoW cinematic in a very, very long time. Feels like the stakes are really high but at the same time it's like watching a little mini-series. Quick and to the point. Love this new direction they're going. Hopefully it stays like this throughout the Worldsoul Saga.

[clowningaroundmars]

HOOOOLLLYYYY SHIT!!!

i just finished BRC and found out JET SET MUTHAFUCKIN RADIO THREEEEEEEEEE was recently announced and teased???!??!?!?

BOI

[starkeyisthelastname]

trailerpark!rafe wakes up with one thing on his mind and it’s not what you are baking. 💦🍯 dirty sex below

Your pretty little self loved to bake and that didn’t stop even when you were over at Rafe’s. He had just woken up, tall body stretching as he lifted himself off the worn mattress. His nose caught a whiff of something sweet, his heavy footsteps carrying him through the creaky trailer and towards the small kitchen. You were quite the sight to take in, standing by the oven as your pretty eyes surveyed the pan you had just taken out by the looks of it. In nothing but a little pink nightgown with the fat of your ass hanging out and nipples poking through the thin material, had his mouth watering for something else sweet.

“Whatcha doing up so early, sugar?” His raspy voice vibrated through the kitchen as you began mixing the icing together. You got a little startled as when you were baking you were in your own world. You were of course happy he was awake though, bouncing on your feet to face him. “Making cinnamon rolls.” You told him, his large hands coming to roughly squeeze your waist.

His blue eyes looked over at the stove, before glancing down at you and raking across your body that looked tiny in comparison to his. “Cinnamon rolls, huh? You always gotta make somethin’ sweet for me. Don’t you?” He asked, voice low as he brought one of his hands up to grip your chin firmly.

You didn’t hesitate to nod, eyes wide and lashes long as they blinked up at your favorite person. Rafe let out a throaty laugh, his thumb coming up to rest against your pouty bottom lip. “I’m gonna do somethin’. Yeah? And don’t start worrying’ about those cinnamon rolls you made either.” He rasped out, watching your pretty face frown.

He moved your bowl of icing to the side, your little protest about it being cut short as he lifted you up onto the counter. He pulled you further down, his massive hand yanking your tits out of the nightgown and bunching it around your waist to see your perfect cunt. “Shit… pussy is beggin’ to be fuckin’ touched.” He laughed, his thumb coming out to rub your sweet pearl in circles. He loved watching you shudder, not knowing what to do as you were still new to all of these dirty things. He smirked, leaning down to bury his pert nose against your clit and shove tongue in your hole.

He was addicted, your cunt like a drug to him as he slurped your sweet sugar up. He couldn’t get enough, blunt nails digging into your fleshy thighs as he ate you like the poor starved man he was. Your sweet whines above only making him want more. He didn’t give a damn how messy he got either, moving his head back and forth as he buried his tongue even further to make you squeal.

His heavy blue eyes watched as you looked down him, your tits swaying as you breathed heavily from pleasure. He pulled back, sliding a thick digit in which you automatically clenched around. “That’s my good little fuckdoll.” He murmured, his free hand coming up to slap your tits. “I’m about to fuckin’ pound your pretty cunt sweet baby.”

His facial hair was sticky with your juices, tickling your neck as his thick cock rammed into you. He let out a breathy groan against your soft skin, the hard smacks of his thrusts echoing off the trailer walls. You were a babbling mess, his big dick stretching your drenched hole and his words growing dirtier.

He pulled away from your neck, both his large hands coming on either side of your head to hold it in place. His piercing eyes bored into you, making your corrupted little brain spin. “Fuck, how’d I get so lucky? Baking me treats and shit. Cleaning up this shithole of a place for me. Gettin’ to breed you with my little trailer park babies.” He said, making your eyes roll back as that funny feeling was growing more in your tummy. Especially the way held you and place, making you take his monster dick and hear his dirty words.

[2tarbell]

COWBOY TAKE ME AWAY

you ask your boyfriend to take a look at your engine…

(drabble. © 2tarbell 2024)

rafe was close to losing his damn mind. how was this thing even still running?

he’s not a mechanic, in fact he finds it all too fuckin’ annoying. but when you looked up at him with those sparkly eyes, asking him to fix your little car, he couldn’t bring himself to turn you down.

so there he was, backwards cap on and sweating through his shirt. he’s already smoked two cigarettes trying to even start to fix the damn thing. the mess that was awaiting him under the hood made him shoot you a look, but you simply furrowed your brows and sighed in that sugary sweet voice ‘jus’ dont know what’s wrong with it’.

he was a sucker, maybe. pussy whipped, for sure.

more than an hour had passed and hardly any progress was made on the deteriorating engine. he was starting to get pissed off, your ‘the chicks’ cd having played three times through, the screen door allowing it to be heard from the player in the living room.

rafe looks over at you again, taking in the way you sat on the steps of the trailer, pen in hand as you mumble to yourself about the crossword puzzle between humming along to the music. barefoot and sitting nice and comfy on the wooden plank. oh, the luxury.

you looked so pretty, and he almost dropped whatever tool he was using when he noticed you weren’t wearing a bra. he cleared his throat, focusing all attention on the shitty state of your motor.

“baby — what in the hell did you even do to this thing?”

your head snaps up at that, pouting and tiptoeing over to him, paper abandoned on the steps. you ignored his protests of heading inside to put on some shoes, stepping over rocks and weeds. rafe shakes his head and leans on his arms as he stares down the engine, praying to whatever will listen to magically tell him what the problem was.

he sighs when your arm snakes around his waist and turns to press a kiss to the top of your head that rests on his arm. your touch was a brief reprieve from the hot sun and difficult task.

“s’that bad?” you mumble, voice meek.

god, he would do anything to make that sad little tone vanish. but he can’t lie to you, not about this. no matter how much he knows you adore this car.

he hums, giving the engine a once over before looking over at you, “well, it— it ain’t great… gonna have to probably replace most of it if y’wanna keep it.”

the whine you let out makes an amused grin form on his lips. you both know you couldn’t afford to replace even half of it.

“well— can’t y’just— just—“

“ohhh, when did you become a mechanic, sugar?”

he whistles lowly at your glare, wrapping his arm firmly around your neck and pulling you in. the sensation of being pressed against his chest, his bicep pressing into your cheek makes a lick of heat shoot up your spine.

“don’t get an attitude w’me, a’ight?” he drawls into your hair, leaving that familiar heat to settle in your tummy. you knew better but whined incoherently, a babble of ‘but— but— daddy—‘. it might cost you some of his softness, but it was just so satisfying to hear him get just a little meaner.

“no, stop poutin’— dad’s doin’ this f’you on his off day, show some gratitude. there is nothin’ else i can do ‘bout the fuckin’ thing, ‘kay?”

he wished there was more to do for the vehicle, but it was about time. hell, you’ve had that thing longer than he could remember. you never were good at admitting he was right, though.

he sighs and shifts to wrap his arms tight around your waist, lifting you slightly on your toes. your hands immediately find his chest and you lean your forward against him, pouting still as his lips meet your temple. you stare at the car, feeling betrayed by something you considered your baby.

all things must come to end, or whatever the hell the saying is. you honestly found that to be complete bullshit as rafe runs a hand over your hip, fingers lightly caressing the skin between the fabric and your jean shorts. his touch was almost soothing.

“poor sweet girl…” his lips press against your ear, a teasing whisper, “what’m i gonna do with you, hmm?”

you huff, maybe a bit dramatically, and turn your head to gaze up at him. rafe chuckles softly at your expression, if anyone else did such a thing, it might’ve felt patronizing. but not him, not your rafe.

you can’t resist a little grin, hiding your face in his chest. he always made you fold too quickly. he coos and it makes you feel fuzzy all over. with a finger under your chin, he lifts your head up to press a sweet kiss to your lips. his are a little chapped and his scruff is starting to tickle your face but you don’t care, needing the comfort of your big, strong man desperately in this moment. his large palms trail down your body to settle and squeeze at your ass.

rafe smiles against your mouth, that tilt of his lips making your own rise. soon enough, you’re giggling and unable to kiss him back. he doesn’t care and presses closer, swallowing those precious little sounds.

he lifts you, hands throwing you up and over his shoulder. he smirks at your squeal and closes the hood with one arm, the other holding you snuggly on his shoulder.

“rafe cameron, you put me down!”

“nuh — uh. think it’s time you thank me, yeah?”

with a smack to the swell of your ass, he walks up the three steps to your shared trailer, already planning on taking you to shower with him. the screen door shuts with a slam and your laughter echoes into the dusty streets of your little neighborhood.