#maybe then i will feel festive as fuck but as of right now this holiday season SUCKS!

[itneverendshere]

can't remember anything before you - rafe cameron.

request: "can you write something for rafe, where he's had a crush on topper's older sister for ages and he finally does something about it? it can be fluffy and smutty, honestly I'm just here for the plot."

pairing: rafe cameron x thornton!reader; brother's best friend! trope or best friend's sister! trope; fem!reader.

word count: wrote 11 word pages i apologize;

WARNINGS: p in v; fingering; handjob; smut with plot; a lot of cursing; rafe being a lover boy; mentions of slow burn like the slowest burn of his life but it pays off; mentions of voyeurism;

you drive him insane. 

what the hell are you doing prancing around the house in the tiniest red bikini known to mankind? 

rafe's not a creep, okay? earlier, he tried to redirect his attention, focus on anything else – the tv, the background music, even the patterns on the wallpaper – but his gaze involuntarily gravitated back to you. it's as if the universe conspires against him, pushing him to the edge of his self-control.

it's not just the stupid bikini; it's the way you carry yourself. 

it's not fair. 

it's why he secluded himself from the party an hour ago, slipping away unsuspectedly to the little private lounge you kept in your favorite area to sunbathe. he sank into a reclining chair, running his hands through his buzzed hair in frustration. 

closing his eyes for the millionth time that evening, rafe tries to summon the strength to think about you in anything except the slutty number you're wearing— and it still doesn't help. in the distance, laughter from the party echoes, a stark reminder of the festivities he chose to distance himself from. 

then, the hidden door creaks open, and without looking, he knows it's you. 

it's your spot after all. maybe this was a terrible idea.

the subtle scent of your sunscreen wafts through the air, and the sound of footsteps approaches. rafe's heart quickens, torn between the desire to get the fuck away from you and your scent that urges him to stay. he keeps his eyes closed for a moment longer, clinging to the darkness as if it can shield him from you.

completely fucked. he's so fucked. 

you settle into a nearby chair, and the silence between you is almost comforting. almost. because that sleazy bikini of yours is still very much imprinted into his brain. rafe finally musters the courage to open his eyes, only to meet yours the second he does. 

it takes an unbelievable amount of willpower to fight the groan in his throat when he realizes your arms are crossed and doing absolutely nothing to hide your tits. the world seems to narrow down to the glistening droplets of water on your skin, the curve of your body. his gaze trails down and he almost folds on the spot.

oh, for fuck's sake.

the reclining chair suddenly feels like a throne of thorns. he should've gone home. ogling you is nothing new in his book, it's what he does best, but now that you've spent the entire summer together...having you all to himself after years of barely catching a glimpse of you during the holidays or summer breaks in the outer banks, rafe knows that it's not just a stupid crush on his best friend's older sister.

it's not just a fleeting desire, it's something that has been brewing inside him for years, and the eye of its right here. 

"you, okay?"

rafe almost jumps out of his skin, as your voice breaks the silence. he hesitates, finding it difficult to find the right words when you're looking at him with your pretty eyes. 

he clears his throat, attempting to regain his composure, "yeah, yeah. i'm...i'm good." rafe replies, his voice rougher than he intends.

your pouty lip’s part, perhaps ready to probe further, but he can't let you mess with his head.

"just needed a breather from the party, y'know?" he adds, hoping the casual tone will deflect you from analyzing him like one of your books. you're the only one who always saw through the layers he wrapped around himself. 

too fucking smart for you own good. 

you tilt your head slightly, exposing your pretty neck, "were my cocktails that bad?"

there's an underlying teasing undertone, and he can't help but let out a small, rueful chuckle, "nah, don't think they could be bad even if you tried, peach." he replies, a sheepish grin playing on his lips.

your heart races at the sight of him. he’s gorgeous. no one should be allowed to look this good, especially with a shaved head and a three-day stubble. you'd like to blame the drinks for luring your nasty thoughts out, but you know this, is entirely on you.

weird, right? 

this was rafe cameron. the little rafe cameron who grew up down the street from you, the insufferable kid your brother brought along to every single-family vacation and had the biggest crush on you when you were seventeen. the metamorphosis from the boy to the captivating man seated before you makes you head hurt.

he's a man now, the prettiest you've ever seen, and it only took him one summer to have you under his palm. 

his phone looks so small in his large hands, your gaze follows the veins lining the back of them as his fingers nimbly play with the screen.

"am i boring you?" you ask, leaning your head back into the chair, his perfume, replica jazz club you assume, wafts over you and it takes everything in you not to drop your face into his buff chest and just inhale him, "you haven't spoken a word to me all day."

there's a slight buzz from the alcohol in your veins that allows you to ask the questions you'd never ask if you were sober. 

rafe runs his hand across his jaw, analyzing you slowly. "'course i have."

you scoff, feigning nonchalance. "no, you haven't. it's like you're avoiding me."

rafe's heart skips a beat. "avoiding you? m'not avoiding you."

you raise a perfect eyebrow, challenging him, "really?"

rafe shifts uncomfortably in the chair, his gaze flickering between your eyes and the tempting curves that the tiny red bikini accentuates. 

"is it because raven is here?"

his eyes are busy tracing the lines of your features with an unwavering dedication. he's never been the best at multitasking when in your presence. he sees your lips moving but can't wrap his head around what you asked.

when he catches your eye again, there's a subtle blush gracing your cheeks, but you don't look away, "who?"

"raven. your ex? the girl you were fucking on spring break?"

rafe's eyes widen comically, surprise and discomfort settling on his face. he shifts in his chair again, as you've catch him off guard. how the fuck did he forget you knew about raven? 

"oh, uh, raven. yeah—i mean no! no, no, it's not about her. we're not a thing anymore," he stammers out, fingers scratching his stubble, "that was a spring break thing."

you sit up straighter, the tequila and curiosity-fueling your boldness, "a spring break thing, huh?"

you pray to god he can't pinpoint the jealousy coating your words. 

his jaw slightly slackens, forming an unintentional expression of awe as you move your legs, once again momentarily losing the ability to form coherent thoughts. beads of sweat form on his forehead as he struggles to maintain composure. 

the heat is not helping his situation at all. 

when the silence becomes a little too overbearing for you, you can't shake the growing unease that you might be unintentionally bothering rafe's peace. your words flowed, but you notice a subtle glaze over his blue eyes, a distant look that hints at his mind wandering elsewhere. 

is he thinking about raven?

you adjust your posture, nervously fiddling with the bracelet on your arm, a subtle sign of your growing discomfort, "do you want me to leave?"

rafe's eyes snap back to you, the fleeting moment of distraction replaced by a sudden intensity. he blinks a few times, as if trying to shake off the mental fog that had settled, "'course not," there's a hint of urgency in his voice. he doesn't want you to leave, and that realization tightens the knots in his stomach, "always want your company."

this is unbearable. you've gotten him on a tight leash, and you don't even know.

his tone makes your lips twitch, and you press them together to keep from smiling, "aww, look at you being nice to me, it's like you're sixteen all over again."

an involuntary groan escapes his throat, the sound automatically making you clench your thighs. 

"you remember that?"

"course i do, you're the only guy who's ever gifted me flowers."

that's because you've only dated douchebags, it's what he wants to tell you, but he doesn't because it's none of his business. 

"how much have you had to drink?"

you smirk, "a little. how much have you had to drink?"

he trails his eyes up you higher, gliding up your tummy, over your tits, right up to your throat, "a little."

a subtle awareness tingles at the back of your senses and that's when it hits you. 

rafe is staring at you. 

he's not shy about it; his eyes trail over you, leaving a tangible heat in their wake, practically eating you alive and you have to take another look to confirm you're not being a delusional bitch. so maybe... you did wear this bikini hoping he would finally do something, that he'd finally understand that you want him. 

you've spent the entire summer teasing him. seeing if you could get a rise, hit the right button. 

you quirk a brow at him, amusement curling at the corners of your lips, "bikini's nice, isn't it?"

he clears his throat, a subtle rasp betraying the restraint he's trying to maintain. 

"yeah, it's...it's something," he replies, the words slightly breathless. he crosses his arms across his chest, biceps big enough to make you want to climb him like a tree. 

you lean forward propping yourself on one of your elbows, making sure he gets a fantastic view of your cleavage, "you know, rafe, you've been pretty quiet."

his lips, naturally inviting, become the focal point as he bites down on the lower one, "just...taking in the view, i guess." he mumbles, his gaze momentarily darting away before locking onto you again.

rafe feels like he's fourteen again, unable to hold a conversation with a pretty girl like you. except he's twenty-two and he should know better. you're going to give him a stroke. 

"the view, huh?” your eyes widen in mock-surprise, “and do you like what you see?" you ask.

he swallows hard. uh-oh, is he really about to do this? 

"you know i do." he admits, the admission laced with a raw honesty that takes you by surprise.

got him right where you want him.

you decide to push the boundaries a bit further, your voice dropping to a sultry tone, fingers playfully tracing the edge of the bikini strap.

"wasn't sure about the red, but it's your favorite color."

his head whips back around and he swears he hears a crack. if he wasn't fully hard before, he is now. 

you both know you meant what you said, not just a heat-of-the-moment confession. his gaze is fixed on you and his eyebrows are pushed together in a painful expression and he just keeps shaking his head.

he opens his mouth, takes a slow, shuddering breath that you feel through every inch of your body and leans forward, hands gripping the arms of the chair for dear life, "peach."

there's an underlying warning in his voice, begging you to take a step back and rethink this entire thing, but quite frankly, you're tired of thinking. as matter of fact, you're done making excuses not to fuck rafe.

he exhales a shaky breath, "you're playing with fire, y'know that?" his voice is low, it only spurs the warning and longing lingering inside you.

you're both breathless and you haven't even touched each other.

it's time you deliver the final nail to the coffin.

"you're gonna do something about it or do i have to find someone else?"

the realization eventually sinks in: you want him. you want him as desperately as he wants you. you've pushed him to the edge, and there's no turning back now.

his hands are on you before you can blink again, roaming fingers locking around your wrist to pull you towards him, knocking his phone to the ground in the process, but he doesn't care, everything's background noise when you stumble into his lap, pretty legs dangling to the sides. his hands wrap around your torso, pulling you closer, chest to chest, fingers digging into your hips like he's trying to convince himself you're not an illusion. 

the world narrows down to the heat of his touch, the electrifying sensation of his fingers on your skin. you feel the rapid beat of his heart against your chest, mirroring your own anticipation.

rafe's eyes, lock onto yours, a silent agreement passing between you.

"y'sure about this?" he whispers, voice a low growl, but the vulnerability in his eyes makes you want to kiss him stupid.

his hands, which had been restless before, find a purpose as his fingertips brush the skin of your face lightly, caressing your chin between his thumb and forefinger before his eyes sweep up to meet your own.

"please." the words come out like a plea.

“please, what?" he asks, so smug you almost punch him, "gotta tell me what you want, hm?"

“kiss me.”

and then his lips are on yours. it's more than just kissing; it's a fusion of desires, an electric current that drags you under. rafe's touch is confident, yet tender, as if he is unraveling a secret, delicate treasure. your senses heighten, catching the subtle nuances of his warm breath mingling with yours.

rafe's kiss is a slow burn, a deliberate exploration that leaves trails of heat in its wake. there's an artistry to the way he traces the contours of your lips, teasing and coaxing, building a crescendo of anticipation, rendering you breathless.

the lounge chair becomes a battleground of hands and lips, a frenzied exchange of desires unleashed, an intensity that borders on desperate, as if trying to capture and savor every moment. your fingers trace along his arms, and his hands explore every inch of your body, as if mapping out the territory he's yearned for.

his lips leave a trail of fire along your jawline, down to your collarbone, and you suppress a cry, the sensation sending shivers down your spine. the summer nighttime air feels heavy, thick with the scent of sunscreen and the heady aroma of desire.

rafe breaks the kiss for a moment, his breath hot against your skin. 

you’re both panting, breathing so hard that your heaving chests touch with every breath.

"been driving me insane all summer, y'know that?" he admits, a husky edge to his voice, throat bobbing, "so fucking insane." he whispers into your neck.

he can't even think straight with your ass firmly pressed against him.

you attempt to keep an even voice, but nonchalance escapes you for the time being. "that was the plan all along."

rafe chuckles, a low, throaty sound that resonates through you, feeling the warmth of his breath against your ear, "god, gonna be the death of me."

there’s no time to reply because he leans his head and catches your lips faster this time. 

he tilts your head down, applying a little bit of pressure to your mouth. your lips part again, and so do his. he swallows your moan into his mouth, and eases his tongue into you, urgently exploring every crevice of your mouth, hand slipping from your cheek and resting at the column of your neck, fingers kneading the back of it.

you press your body further into his and you can feel every inch of him vibrating, his entire body pulsing with need. his skin feels so hot against yours, he’s unbearably hard and you’re positively dying to get your hands on every single inch of his skin.

your nails scrape against his scalp and you squeak in shock as rafe’s hips surge upwards, forcing his hard cock against you. the unabashed moan he lets slip is sinful and it’s all you want to hear for the rest of your life. you can’t stop the urge building up inside you, you’re not even certain you can stop moving your hips even if you wanted to.

his hands dig into the plush of your thighs and he restrains himself, you deserve better than to get fucked out here. he watches closely, hypnotized by the way you begin rubbing yourself onto him, the outline of his cock grazing back and forth between your covered folds.

“baby, we can—can’t, jesu—not here.”

the new pet name makes you feral for him.

you trace a finger up the column of his throat, sending a shiver down his spine, you don’t stop moving your hips, watching his eyes flutter every time you rub just the right way.

“why not?”

rafe groans, head falling back to the chair, “here?”

it’s almost funny how he’s willing to bend over every decision he’s ever made in his life, just for you. he’s letting you dry hump him right here, when your brother, his best friend and god knows who can walk in at any given moment. 

you nod pathetically, brain turned into mush, “can’t wait any longer.”

“stop saying shit like that.” he warns you through gritted teeth, “fuck.”

the needy sound that rips through your chest when his hands leave your thighs echoes in his mind.

“peach”, he begins, roaming hand brushing up the back of your thigh and squeezing the flesh just below the swell of your rear, “y’have a problem with control."

both your lips are swollen pink and ridden with spit.

“like you’re any better.”

you’re such a brat. 

rafe grabs your chin and tilts your head, so you have to look into his pretty eyes, “let’s not make any noise, yeah?” his lips create a path up your throat, hands on your ass, kneading and pushing so he can grind you all over his growing bulge.

you whimper, rocking harder on him and wrapping your arms around his neck. you just want him to touch you. his hips roll slowly, rubbing his hard-on lazily and mindlessly. he can't help but send a rough smack on your ass, smirking at your surprised yelp.

“just touch me,” you grip his shoulder harder, holding on for dear life as his hands trail back, the bits of his nails scraping along your naked thighs. 

they catch the waistband of your bikini bottoms. he traces your clit over the fabric feeling the warm, wet patch you’re leaving in them and then he teasingly slips his fingers underneath, swiping them along your slit, thumb, and index finger opening your pussy to his gaze. 

this time he swallows hard, seeing your pussy pink and glistening for him. 

“’m touching you, peach,” his touch, and scent, cloud your vision, the soft sounds of his labored breath singing in your ears as he leans down to press wet-mouthed kisses to your neck, “m touching you.”

”more,” you whine, lips barely parted, drawing out another salacious moan from him. “fuck.”

“like this?” he whispers against your lips, words hoarse and murmured, watching your eyes soften and brows twist, features becoming pliant under his enamored gaze, “you’re so fucking wet.” he tsk under his breath, shaking his head in the typical rafe cameron condescending way.

he presses a finger inside of you, slowly stretching out your tight hole. you groan, and his eyes roll back at the way your walls stretch around him. so fucking tight. you rock harder against him, fucking yourself into his finger and wrapping your arms around his neck again. you just want to feel him against you.

his half-lidded eyes look up at you as you contort on top of him, feeling overstimulated, with a single finger. 

he coos, his other hand sweeping over the back of your head sweetly, pushing back stray sweaty hairs. he nudges your nose with his, hand on the back of your neck, and tries to meet your eye. the squelch as his finger fucks into you, fast and deep, is the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard.

“rafe—“ you hand grips his wrist as your eyes roll back when his fingers find that spot.

“t’s good?”

“so good,” you whine loudly, he’s cocky tone only adding to his allure. 

you can feel the stretch it takes just to take his finger, rutting into you, curling perfectly.  

he thinks it might be the sweetest thing he’s ever witnessed – your voice when you’re being fucked. you’re gushing around his digits, hands now clutching his shoulders. it’s like you can’t stop moving them, needing to feel every ridge of his body. 

rafe adds another finger, pressing the tips of his middle and ring finger against that soft, spongy part deep inside and grins when you cry out his name.

“fuck,” you cry out against his skin dragging your lips up his throat, over his jaw, before finding purchase at his lips in a kiss that devours all air in your lungs. your fingers curl around the band of his bathing shorts, enjoying the slight whine that slips past his lips.

“let me touch you,” you plead, words muffled by the way your tongue can’t seem to leave his skin alone, teeth grazing along where his neck and shoulder meet. you nip at the area, before daring to swipe your tongue along his neck, sucking the tender flesh with your teeth. 

holy fuck, are you marking him?

“oh god."

a third finger, your hips now rutting against him.

“hickeys, baby? that territorial, huh?” his hand slows for a moment, twisting so he can thumb at your clit before he continues, both motions in tandem. you cry out, eyes screwed close, hips shoving forward, “you look so pretty like this," rafe whispers against your skin, his full-blown pupils looking up at you through his long lashes.

“i want more”

“every little sound you make goes straight down to my cock,” he’s rubbing his cock so perfectly against your clit again, only making you whine more desperately for him. he places a chaste kiss on the corner of your mouth, just so he can see you blindly chase after his lips. 

and then, you feel empty. 

he lets his fingers slide all the way out and his throat tightens at the feel of you bearing down, trying to hold on to him as he withdraws completely. he ignores your protests and drags his thick fingers across your wet folds. when he feels satisfied with the coat around his fingers, he moves them toward your face, letting them trail over your lips.

“gon’ open up f’me?”

you gasp, but obey immediately, tongue darting out to lick your slick off his fingers. rafe doesn’t hold back his groan, watching your tongue swirling around his digits. he throws whatever concerns he had over your noises out the window.

he’s too lost in your body to care if someone finds you two or not. 

as a matter of fact, let them see. god knows he’s dying to show those bastards you belong to him anyway. he wants you all to himself, wants the whole world to know you’re his.

“so, so, so good,” he praises, closing the gap, lips molding right into yours again. his hands find home in your throat, adding just right the amount of pressure to make you sigh against his lips.

rafe smirks, brushing a finger along your skin, should’ve guessed his pretty peach had kink for praises. your tummy is in a knot because he’s running his hands along your body, and you just need to have him.

you clumsily slip his shorts and boxers down, just enough to touch him, and he raises his hips automatically helping you slide them down, his cock springing out of his confines to lightly hit against his abdomen.

you break the kiss, needing to look at him. 

and you’re so glad you do, because rafe has the most perfect dick you’ve ever seen. you catch yourself staring at him, devouring every part of his body with your eyes.

he feels his heartbeat faster, face flush when your eyes are back on his face as you softly wrap one of you manicured hands around him, just slightly, slow pumps. but it’s more than enough to make him drop his head back, adam’s apple bobbing, brows pitched together.

“good?” you ask him, keeping the pace so you can feel him throb in your hand.

“everything’s good when it’s you peach,” he grunts out, and the way his abs seem to recoil makes your tongue slide across your bottom lip, “fucking perfect.”

your thumb smears precum across his tip, bending forward to ghost your lips over his, “need you inside me.”

the way rafe’s jaw drops open in a silent moan when you tighten your hold around him is beautiful, searing itself in the back of your mind. 

settling on his lower lip, you draw it into your mouth, sucking softly, moving your hips even closer. he runs his hands along your sides, one stopping just below your breasts—the other one flicking your nipple with his thumb.

you keep your eyes open, needing to memorize every single moment. his breath comes down on your lips in heavy pants, fingers teasing your skin, hums of pleasure circling both of you. 

“want me inside you?” his voice sounds so husky it makes you want to cry, “want me to fil you up?”

your hand leaves his cock, pulling him to you by his shoulders, and he braces himself with one hand on your waist, another on the chair.

he runs his tongue along the inside of his cheek, “that bad?”

“don’t tease me,” you struggle to produce words, hands winding through his chest, “waited long enough.”

rafe holds his cock by the base, running it up and down your pussy, “not longer than i have.”

you sink down onto him, biting your lip at the slow pressure, the pleasant stretch that pulls at your middle. you can feel tears brimming your eyes from pure relief and he feels like every single fiber of his being is scorching. 

he can feel just how deep he his, his fingers clutching at the flesh of your hips like his life depends on it, “fuck. that’s it, baby.”

your hands are placed firmly on his stomach, and one of his glides up right up to your throat, pulling you down to his chest. all you can properly let out of your mouth are pleas and whimpers. the stretch is on the edge of painful, but he fits so perfectly inside of you. you huff a short breath when he’s all the way in.

“you okay?” he asks against your ear, softly biting the lobe.

your answer is a desperate roll of your hips, “perfect.”

you begin to move your hips up and down, as the stretch gives way to something delirious, and rafe takes mercy on you, beginning to thrust back up into you, his rhythm building up until your mouth falls open again into a pretty moan, until sweat shines on the high points of his perfectly sculpted face. every time your skin touches his it’s fucking scorching, and the stretch is agonizing, and the heavy air is suffocating but then he’s bottoming out and you feel your brain go fuzzy. 

you’re wrapped around him so tight it makes his moves sloppy, almost mindless but so deep it knocks the air out of your lungs.

“waited so long for you,” one hand on the curve of your hip, the other along your jaw, lips hungrily working over yours, swallowing your gentle whimpers, your soft, sweet pleas vibrating against his tongue, “have no idea what you do to me.”

his confession only makes you drag yourself harder against him, clit brushing against his pubic bone, “rafe!”

“that’s it,” he coos, tone gentle, the friction too overwhelming, “so beautiful.”

the strain in his voice makes you want to stay like this forever.

you tighten around him further, letting your nails rake down his chest. rafe grunts, thrusting harder, shifting you closer to him as humanly possible. you feel his stomach and thighs clench, and his hips sputter, “you’re so deep.”

he presses his hand against your stomach, feeling the bulge, “might fuck a baby into you,” he rasps, thumb catching against your clit, “let them know you’re mine.”

“yours,” he’s trailing kisses along your collarbone until he reaches your tits, leaving a line of soft, wet suckles behind, “only yours.” 

the way he’s stroking you unrushed is absolutely toe-curling, guiding you over his cock with very little maneuvering, gently pushing your hips down onto him.

“gonna keep you here, stuffed, for hours baby.”

you can hear it reverberating through the night air. 

the slap of skin, the grunts. the sound of the chair creaking as he fucks you into it. each delicious slip, every time you feel his veiny shaft twitching for attention against your walls. you’re so lightheaded you might pass out.

rafe feels his balls tighten. you are creaming so fast, squeezing the hell out of his cock. he’s making sure to put your pleasure before his, hitting all the right spots.

“rafe, baby—" his name being moaned out by you is urging him to bust inside you, his eyes narrowing slightly as his grip on your hips tightens, “oh—im gon—fuckk.”

he only pushes you faster up and down his dick as your walls grip around him, a mix of your cream and his pre-cum coating his length. his eyes focus on your face, basking in the pretty expressions you make.

“it’s too much.” you whine, feeling your orgasm about to reach itself. rafe’s eyes glimmer at your words, tracing a thumb against your lips before sneaking a kiss onto your mouth.

“you can take it,” his muscles flex from the constant friction. you’re so full, all you can think about is rafe spilling inside of you, “c’mon.”

his cock thrusts even deeper, a sharp hiss leaving his lips at the way your pussy tightens. his calloused thumb wipes away a stray tear. he loves the sting of your nails practically sinking into his skin. he tangles his hand in your hair, forcing your neck to arch up as he leans in, biting hard enough to leave a mark.

“im—m—gonn—” you feel him right at your womb again and again, any semblance of sanity melted away the moment he set his hands on you, “holy fuck.”

“i know baby, keep your eyes on me,” you with your perfect tits bouncing with each roll and grind of your hips is enough to make a grown man cry, “eyes on me.”

you lean back, supporting yourself with your hands on his thighs, circling your hips and doing your best not to close your eyes. the burning inside you is so strong, it’s taking you everything not to close them.

his hands slide around your back when he sits up suddenly, and you gasp, “oh my god.”

the pace has both of you panting, his balls slapping your ass every single time. a shiver runs down your spine and you throw your head back and almost scream out his name. 

he chuckles breathlessly, “never getting tired of that sound.”

you can feel yourself starting to reach the edge of your climax, grinding harder and harder into him and gasping with each spark of pleasure it gives your throbbing clit. each time he hits your g-spot just right, you feel more and more slick dribbling out of you and down your thighs. 

“so fucking pretty,” he groans, punctuating each word with a deep thrust and you feel that tight coil in your belly snapping.

“fuck—rafe,” you pant heavily, breathy whines falling from your lips, legs starting to give out. “oh mhmf—don’t stop!”

your thighs are shaking and seizing as it finally its you, at full force. you squirm in his hold, feeling an almost overwhelming wave of pleasure wash over your body. the feeling’s so intense it’s almost painful. rafe’s arms hold you tight, keeping you grounded while you shudder in his grasp, his fingers determined to prolong your ecstasy.

his piercing blue eyes stay trained on yours the entire time, “knew you could do it.”

he doesn’t let up his pace, pressing chaste kisses to your lips to soothe you. 

“wonder how many of those i can get out of you.”

long night ahead of you. 

might have some grammar mistakes, frankly im not sure at this point lmao, it's late. english's not my first language, it's my third i think. will edit later bc i spent hours writing this and my old ass needs to sleep, thank you for reading <3 by the time im posting this, over 200 of you voted they wanted smut so y'all won, tried best to deliver the goods. also rafe's not mentally unstable in this one, in case that wasn't obvious, he's just a little too in love and cute. let me know if you enjoy it and if i should start taking requests more frequently!

ps: that picture is how i imagined rafe throughout this whole thing

[cakelitter]

Pawsitively Yours

Leon x Puppy - Hybrid Fem! Reader

Warnings: age gap, daddy kink, fingering, breeding kink, slight mention of virginity, spanking, degradation

Summary: Leon's new puppy treats him to a relaxing bath after a stressful mission.

Words: 5.1k

a/n: this one took me so long to do omg. rewrote some paragraphs like three times. but anyway, hope you enjoy!!!!

December has started, and with it came the heavy rain fall and bone chilling winds. Leon makes his way to the nearby convenience store, trying to be as quick as possible before the sky starts getting upset again. Bundled up in his coat and boots, he can see the white smoke like fog that forms after each breath.

His nose froze long ago, and he’s only been out of the house for five minutes. His once functional nose now turning a rosy shade of pink along with his cheeks. And so, he opts to breathe through his mouth a bit till he reaches the warmth of the store.

Milk, eggs, bread, milk, eggs, bread, milk, eggs-

His mind keeps repeating, in order to not forget anything. Writing a list would have saved him so much back and forth, but he’d rather do that than give in and actually write one down. It’s actually impressive how stubborn a man can be.

The glowing lights from the festive decoration on the streets are single handedly illuminating his way to his destination. Christmas is right around the corner, and people are filled with excitement and glee. For Leon on the other hand, Christmas is another cold winter day with the advantage of things being half off the next day.

Maybe it’s the traumatic events that he went through, or maybe it’s the fact that he barely has anyone around to celebrate this once in a year holiday with. But Christmas is not as special as it once was.

Opening the glass door, he steps into the warm space. Breathing in comfortably for once without the feeling of pins and needles tormenting him from the icy air.

It doesn’t take him long to grab the items he initially came in here for, while picking up a bottle of whiskey along the way to keep him company. It was calling his name from the wooden shelf it once stood on, and it was fifty percent off. So, he’s technically doing something good. He places his belongings on the register, while making small talk with the old cashier. The man in front of him says something about the weather, old man talk, and as time passes by he is actually starting to like these types of small conversations more and more.

He's definitely getting old.

The yell of an employee interrupts their conversation, alerting everyone around and addressing a customer that sprints out the store with unpaid items in hand. He thought the officer inside of him died a long time ago, but apparently not. He starts chasing the individual, down the street into an abandoned alley way. When suddenly the clanking sound of cans ricochet through the eerie alleyway, as some of the cans their holding slip from their grasp and onto the concrete floor.

He tries his best to not step on any of them. Which shouldn’t be too hard if this damn alley way wasn’t so fucking dark. He can’t see shit in front of him. It’s practically almost pitch black and the person he’s chasing is wearing a black jacket with the hood up. He’s chasing shadows at this point. Hopefully he is even chasing someone in the first place and isn’t having another one of his hallucinations. Running out the store like a crazy person.

All he does know however is that whoever he’s running after is fast, real fast. He’s almost out of breath kind of fast. The I hope they slip so this can be over kind of fast.

His prayers must’ve been answered cause instead of them slipping, they found themselves reaching a dead end. They’re movement ceases and they freeze in place looking at the stone wall blocking their way out.

He stands behind the hooded figure, their back turned to him.

“Turn around.” He orders, voice stern and intimidating. The thief turns around slowly, eyes facing the ground and full of guilt.

“Take that hood off.” Shaky hands comply, revealing their identity. They look up at him, and… are those dog ears?

Your eyes make contact with his, tears brimming in your eyes, reflecting the yellow light coming from the nearby and only street light, horrified of the thought of what is going to happen to you next. Your ears are droopy and wet from he can only assume the previous rain. Eye brows furrowed and your tail from what he can tell is now hiding between your legs, covered by your oversized jacket. The jacket is two to three sizes too big for you, can’t tell if that’s a fashion choice. He’s not up to date with today’s fashion trends. You’re a hybrid. A homeless one, judging by the state of your clothes and hair.

Regardless of the disheveled appearance, you’re a real cutie. Practically begging him silently to pretend like he didn’t catch you, and let you go on your merry way. His eyes drop down to see what you’re holding in your arms and finds three cans of tuna there. You poor thing, hungry and shaking from either the cold or from the possibility of going to jail… or the pound. He’s not sure where they deal with your kind.

He steps closer, and immediately senses the he picked the wrong choice of action as you start growling. Taking the hint, he backs off and nods slowly raising his hands up, making you stop.

The sound of running footsteps enter into the alleyway the two of you are standing in.

“You caught them?” the employee from earlier asks. Your eyes move over to them then back to him. Leon is a firm believer that stealing for hunger isn’t a crime. You were stealing tuna cans for fucks sake, the cheapest kind too. Not a lavish necklace worth millions.

“Yeah…” he can hear your brain cogs working, thinking about how you will get yourself out of this situation. And he could swear that he heard a whine leave your mouth. Hybrids are looked at as a minority, either locket away in cages or poked in labs. And that’s if they weren’t causing trouble. He doesn’t know what the law would do to you in your case… but it’s most definitely not humane. After a moment, he speaks again, not taking his eyes off of you.

“How much did those cans cost?”

That incident was four months ago, and ever since that day he decided to take you in. Leon was very adamant on the idea of not adopting any pets, not having the time to take care of them. But he figured that since your half human, it wouldn’t be too bad.

The first couple of weeks were hard. You’d lock yourself in your room and hide under the covers when he’s home. You’d growl if he tried touching you, and in general was having a hard time adapting to your new space. Leon however, remained as patient as possible. Giving you your time to feel comfortable, and always made it clear that he’s not a threat to you. Although he can’t really blame you for thinking he is, after all, having a man chase you down and corner you in an alleyway isn’t the best first impression to make.

He doesn’t know much about your background. Whether you were experimented on in a lab and somehow managed to escape, or simply tossed into the streets. But it’s clear that your days before meeting him weren’t the brightest. Matter a fact, he didn’t even know what your voice sounded like for the first 3 weeks, and just assumed that your breed didn’t have the capabilities to speak.

Nevertheless, you decided to break this cycle of keeping him away, when he once came home and sat on the couch. You were laying down on the floor on the further end of it. And to his surprise, decided to walk towards him, laying down and placing your head on his boot, instead of scurrying away into your room.

Leon has fought some of the most gut-wrenching bioweapons, designed to end a man’s life in a matter of seconds and managed to end them without breaking much of a sweat. Yet, this is his biggest achievement yet. You wanted to be next to him, instead of telling him to fuck off like usual. With your eyes of course, he still hasn’t unlocked the dialogue option with you at that time.

Ever since then, you’ve made small steps of opening up to him. And now, he’s the center of your universe, the main attraction, your favorite toy. Pawing at him for belly rubs, standing at the door, ready to greet him, as soon as you hear the jingle of the keys, and needing his attention 24/7 whenever he’s home.

You are now a completely different pup compared to the one he found wet and cold in a sketchy alleyway a few months back. You’re playful and energetic. A pain in the ass to take to the doctor for checkups, but nonetheless, a perfect companion for him. Leon likes to believe that you’re a gift sent to him, an early Christmas gift to light up his gloomy days. A thing he never knew he needed.

Ever since you stepped into his life, leaving paw prints behind, he started getting better without even knowing it. Instead of spending nights self-loathing and mourning the person he could’ve been, downing beer after beer. He spends that time now playing with you and watching movies together. Colorful ones though, your attention span isn’t the best…

He anticipated that you would have dog-like characteristics, and you do. Going crazy over squeaky toys, sniffing him for a good fifteen minutes after he comes back home, being obsessed with his shoes and hiding them under your bed, and tilting your head to the side when you’re confused.

Pure innocence, pure puppy innocence is what you are. Which is the reason that made him feel like a creep for his dick standing up whenever you’d sneak into his bed at night, cause you had a bad dream. Wearing skimpy shorts that did nothing to hide your ass, and a tight floral tank top without a bra. Your pouty lips, and soft-spoken voice. Your pretty eyes, and delicate skin.

“Leon…I had a bad dream; can I sleep with you?” Is all he would hear coming from the direction of his bedroom door. You don’t even bother waiting for him to answer, and instead climb into his bed, tangling your self around him. Head nuzzled into his chest, one of your arms and legs draped over his body. It doesn’t even take you longer that a minute to be fast asleep, leaving him an achy mess without even knowing it.

In addition to how you’d sit on his lap while watching a movie. He hasn’t taught you boundaries yet, knowing you, you’d get upset and give him those kicked puppy dog eyes for shooing you off his lap. Cause it makes his dick fucking hard.

It wouldn’t be such a big deal if you stayed still for once. He swears that you can’t stay in one position unless your asleep. As long as that cute little brain of yours is conscious, you’ll keep squirming on him lap, again with those frilly white skirts and revealing shorts, like he isn’t on the verge of losing it.

Worst part of it all, how your cunt always seems to be so wet all the time. Feeling it seep through your panties and onto his pants, making him want to die on the spot. The way your underwear will always have massive wet patches on them whenever he does the laundry. Is that even normal?

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

Today he came back home after being away for three weeks. Opening the door, he doesn’t find your figure standing in front of him, with a flashy smile on your face, showing off your sharp canines. Twinkling so perfectly like you didn’t suck his bank account dry with those toys off yours. He raised his eyebrow at your absence and whistled hoping your pick it up in case you haven’t heard the sound of the front door opening. Which is pretty unlikely.

Dropping down his bag in the hallway, he walks over to the living room. The older man inspects the area, calling out for you, yet there is no sign of you. Kitchen, same thing. It’s not till he reaches the dining room till he spots out of the corner of his eyes the sight of your fluffy tail sticking out from under the table.

A grin creeps up on his face as he walks towards your hiding spot. He stops a few inches away from where you are and pretends like he’s still looking for you.

“Oh my god, I can’t find her!” He exaggerates, and watches over at how your tail starts wagging.

Cute.

“Where could she possibly be!!” it starts swishing left and right even harder, hitting the chair legs that are on either side of it.

Thump

Thump

Thump

“Is she under the dining table?”

…

“Or is she in my room?”

Thump

Thump

Thump

You’re adorable.

“Oh well I give up. Guess I’ll never find her.” He says throwing his arms defeatedly and turns around to exit the room.

“Boo!” Jumping out from under the table, you reveal yourself. Your arms extending and grabbing his leg. He chuckles and you look up at him with a beaming smile.

“Did I scare ya?”

“Real good, sweet thing.” He replies and crouches down to your level, rubbing behind your ear. Your favorite spot. He helps you get up and you waste no time beginning to sniff him near his shoulder. Face scrunching up at the smell and your eyes meet his again.

“Did you swim in the sewers again?” you ask rubbing your nose.

“I-… yeah”

It’s a long story okay…He needed to get to a certain point but the normal way was blocked so he had to-

Whatever.

Your head nods up and down slowly, knowing your nose is never wrong.

“I’ll go shower.”  He replies, and your eyes light up.

“Want me to help?” You ask excitedly, your tail wagging intensely. “I’ll help you take a bath, and I’ll let you use my rubber duckies too!”

“No honey I-”

You give him those eyes. The ‘you wouldn’t be mean and break my frail puppy heart would you?’ eyes. The eyes that make the strongest agent in the United States, weak. And to no one’s surprise, he gives in.

“Fine, but you only prep the bath and then leave, okay?”

“Don’t you want me to wash your hair like you wash mine?”

“No.”

“Okay.”

“Okay what?”

“…I’ll only prep the bath and leave.” That took you longer to answer than he would like. “Promise? “He asks.

“…”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

He nods, making sure that you understood what he was saying. And as soon as you get his approval, you sprint to the bathroom and the sound of the tub being filled follows pursuit.

He sighs, shaking his head with a smile. Walking to his bedroom, he grabs a freshly cleaned towel before making his way to the bathroom. Your figure is kneeling on the floor, hands grabbing the edge of the tub, watching as it fills with water and bubbles.

Turning around, you smile with a tail wag and turn off the faucet once the water has reached the amount, he usually puts for you.

“It’s ready!” He nods and you start to make your way to the door. As you do, he grabs the edge of his shirt and begins lifting it revealing the bare skin beneath. You stop in your tracks and he notices, your eyes looking at his defined muscles without even blinking.

“Out!”

“Okayyy” You whine, brows furrowing as you slowly close the door. Not before taking a final look of course.

He continues undressing and walks over to the tub, it has some bubbles and a couple of rubber ducks floating on top of it. Placing one foot in, the water is a little too hot, but not bad considering it being your first time doing something like that.

The water level rises as he soaks his entire body, feeling his muscles relax. Soothing his aching muscles and bones. A moment later, he pulls himself fully under the water, and then comes back out, pulling his hair off his face, giving him a slicked back hairstyle you always make fun of him for.

The smell of soap and the feeling of finally being safe after three hellish weeks grounds him as he closes his eyes. Once he reopens them, one of your rubber duckies is looking at him.

God, this is a bit weird.

He grabs it and inspects it, it’s mostly in good condition except for a few bite marks here and there. Wonder who those belong to. He examines the duck for a few more minutes, taking in its yellow body and orange beak. You go crazy over these things, he practically needs to drag you out of the tub each time because of them.

The silence around him is broken when he hears the sound of the door slightly opening which is followed by a cold gust of wind. He looks over and sees one of your eyes looking into the room.

“What did I tell you?” He says, but you don’t respond. Thinking you can trick him into thinking that you’re not there, just like how you still think he couldn’t see you back when you were hiding. And to think your breed is supposed to be one of the smartest.  He calls out your name, making you speak and pull the bathroom door open exposing yourself, kneeling next to it.

“I wanted to see if you were having fun…”

“I am now leave.” He says, tone trying to show seriousness. You don’t listen and in lieu, start crawling towards the tub.

“Are you listening to me?” He speaks again, but it falls to deaf ears. How can he blame you for not listening when he has never disciplined you. Spoiled brat. Ever since he picked you off the streets and claimed you as his own, he has not even once, raised his voice or gotten angry at you.

You crawl over and place your head on the edge of the tub. He’s honestly shocked at how shameless you’re being.

“That one’s name is Jerold.” Your voice says, pointing at the duck he forgot he was holding. A pathetic attempt of trying to change the topic. He looks at the duc- Jerold then back at you. Smiling so sweetly with a halo above your head like you just didn’t break his word.

He sighs, realizing there is no use in wasting his breath and places Jerold back in the water. Looking over back at you, he notices that you’re no longer watching his face, but at something else intensely. Curious, he follows your eyes and realizes at what caught your attention. The bubbles in the bath decided to migrate to either side of the tub, making his crotch completely exposed to your prying eyes.

You’re are not even blinking, a thing you do when you’re thinking too hard about something. The snap of his finger cuts your thread of thoughts, making you jump as you look back at his face, the place you should only be looking at from the get go.

“Privacy?”

Your ears go back in shame, it’s like you didn’t even realize that you were staring.

“Sorry… The water just looks nice.” He raises a brow at you. You are a pervert and a horrible liar.

“The water.” He repeats, showing you how ridiculous your lie was. You remain silent for a while, but start getting a bit fidgety. Looking around and getting up and sitting down again, the same way you act when he’s about to give you a treat.

“Can I get in the bath?” You say impatiently. You’ve always loved bath times, and pools, and lakes, and every single body of water that has ever existed. So, this is not unusual for you to ask, but he can’t help but feel like your intentions aren’t pure.

“No.”

“Why?”

…

Good question. Why not? He does think you’re the cutest thing he’s ever laid his eyes on. He has fantasized about you before, something he doesn’t like admitting. He has checked you out a few times too… you were once again, wearing flimsy clothing, prancing around him, licking his neck and begging him to touch you and give you rubs. At the end of the day Leon is a man, who is guilty of thinking with his dick a time or two.

But he always resisted his urges. Locked them away in one of the rooms in his mind next to other gruesome core memories and throwing away the key. You were his baby, he’s supposed to protect, care, and provide for you, not fuck you.

By the time the voices in his head are fighting each other, you were quick to take off your clothes. And next thing he knows you’re in the tub with him. He goes to protest against what you’re doing, but you straddle him and place your head on his shoulder.

If that was your plan to shut him up… it worked. You feel warm and soft. The plush of your breast pressing up against his chest as he watches your chest rise and fall. Maybe this is wholesome, not like the two of you are naked and he could practically feel your cunt on his dick. No no no, that would be absurd.

He places his hand on your back, and moves it up and down soothingly. Why is he even rubbing your back? You disobeyed him, shouldn’t he be pissed? The two of you sit in silence for a while, before you remove your head off his shoulder. Arms still on either side of his neck, your eyes meet his. Dropping from his sky-blue eyes, over to his wet lips. Fuck.

You lean in. Fuck fuck fuck.

And you kiss him. Possibly the most delicate kiss he’s ever experienced. Full of pure affection. He doesn’t push you, he doesn’t pull back, he doesn’t lecture you about boundaries. But instead, he takes it. All of his attention on your mellow lips and light breath.

You pull away, locking eyes together. And he sees the blood rushing to your cheeks. Did he ever mention that you were cute? You anticipate him lecturing you, yelling at you, or even kicking you out, for what you did. But he doesn’t.

Remember that voice that was telling him that this is weird? Yeah, it can go fuck itself. He leans in and kisses you lips again. You let out a soft breath at his action, and he can hear the sound of your tail wagging once again even when it’s submerged in water.

Splash

Splash

Splash

Once more, your lips disconnect and you start shifting your hips above him. His dick has already started rising ever since your lips made contact with his.

“Can I wash your hair now?” he laughs.

“Sure, why not.”

And so, you do. Grabbing his shampoo bottle and squeezing some product on your hand before lathering in on his head. Your fingers work the product into his hair, before grabbing the nearby shower head and rinsing it off. The masculine aroma of his shampoo fills the small space as he decides he might as well give you a bath while he’s at it. He goes to grab your shampoo before your hand stops him.

“I want to use yours… wanna smell like you.” His heart could burst out of his chest at this moment. This shouldn’t have turned him on this much, but alas it did. Without complaints, he does what you want. Repeating the same process, you did on his hair earlier.

It doesn’t take long before the two of you walk out the tub. He pats you dry with his towel then himself. This went over rather smoothly, see wholesome just like he said. Everything is under contro- you’re rubbing your thighs together.

“Leon…” Your soft voice calls out to him, grabbing his attention. He hums in response and looks over at your eyes. Stepping closer, you place a soft lick over his collar bone before beginning to kiss the area. Your hand creeps up the side of his neck over to his jaw, coaxing him to accept your touch. And you almost managed to do that, till those voices in his head barged in once again.

He grabs your hand gingerly and whispers. “Baby, I don’t know if we should do this.”

You whine, mouth stopping its assault on his neck to speak. “Please, wanted you to breed me for so long.”

Once again, those voices get thrown out the window, as the words you just said make his brain short circuit. Cursing under his breath, he smashes his lips against yours harshly driving you up the bathroom wall.

You kiss him back fervently. Hands cupping his face as his chest closes the proximity between the two of you. Grabbing your jaw, his hands slither down and cup your mound, receiving yet another whine from your lips. Music to his ears.

His finger then starts making firm circles around your clit making your hips buck forward towards his touch craving more. Your hands scramble around his chest, a puppy like you has probably never experienced something like this before, huh.

His tongue enters your mouth and you accept it gladly. Two of his fingers rub between your folds back and forth. Collecting the slick that is practically dripping down your thigh, your hole is practically weeping. And he groans at the slippery feeling, before plunging two of his fingers into you with ease. Your back arches and you moan into his mouth, as his fingers start moving in and out of your wet heat.

“Who knew my sweet pup was such a slut.” He says pulling your ears closer to his mouth with the iron grip he as on your jaw.

You’re so sensitive, thighs begin to tremble at the way his fingers curl into you, and the real fun hasn’t even started. You can barely stand at this point. Realizing that, he grabs your thighs and pulls you over his shoulder and makes his way to his room. He plops you down on the bed, and you immediately roll over to your stomach, back arched, and ass up in the air like its instinct. He could get used to the sight of this, your face pressed down on his sheets and begging him to fuck you senseless.

“You know sweetheart, I don’t even think I should breed you after you’ve disobeyed me so much today.” He says, hands rubbing over your ass. And upon hearing his words your expression shifts, it feels like he just told you the most heartbreaking news you could ever receive in your whole life.

“Noo please. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah? I don’t believe that.”

“I promise, I won’t do it again Daddy.”

Shit.

You’re into that too.

...Oh, your nastier than he thought. Without even replying, he grabs his cock, slapping it a few times on your ass, precum forming strings connecting the two surfaces. Then bullies his cock into you making your feet kick out with a squeal. His balls are plush against your clit as he completely bottoms out inside of you.

You start drooling over the mattress, hands clutching the sheets beneath you for dear life. And without giving you much time to adjust, he starts moving. You feel so tight around him, its driving him crazy. The squelching sounds of your tight dripping pussy can be heard from a mile away. The fluid dripping from the hole that is connecting the two of you and down onto Leon’s gray sheets. Leaving wet dark gray spots on the surface. Picking up his pace, his hips slam into you harshly, pornographic moans can be heard from the two of you along with the clapping sound of your skin slamming against his.

He grabs your hips and leans in, having your back against his abdomen as he speaks into your ear.

“Here I was thinking you were innocent, not knowing what you were doing. Having your entire pussy on display for me, all wet and needy, waiting for me to fuck you full like the slut you are.”

“Wanted you.” is all you can manage to retort back, voice breaking from the impact each thrust has on you. He chuckles lowly and spanking your ass making you yelp and squirm beneath him before grabbing it. The skin now, hot and red beneath his touch.

“Should’ve spoken earlier sweetheart. I wouldn’t be this rough if I wasn’t so pent up.”

Your pussy is now sucking him in even further as he rabbits his dick into you. His hand moves over and under you, making its way to your clit. Pleasure is slowly but surely fogging up your brain, no thoughts other than Leon floating around in your head.

“Be a good girl and cum for me. And maybe then I’ll breed you.” And just like that, your thighs shudder beneath you as your pleasure blurs out your vision. The idea of being full of Leon’s pups making you see stars.

The tightness that you are gripping Leon in, in addition to your walls spasming around him, makes him tighten his grip on your hips leaving bruises there. His release ensuing yours. You bite your lip at the hot liquid being spurted out inside of you. Making you feel warm on the inside. Leon groans at the intensity of his release, one he forbid himself from for such a long time.

He thrusts a few more times, distributing his cum evenly inside you, and pushing it further up your cunt. He lets out a breath at the sight, one he can’t believe is seeing.

Plopping a delicate kiss on the middle of your back. He pulls out with a squelching sound from both your fluids combined, forcing a whimper out of the two of you at the discomfort. He walks over to the tissue box he keeps on his bedside table, and helps you clean up the mess. Throwing away the dirty napkin and laying down on the bed next to you, his arms open and inviting you.

You cuddle up against his chest, and he places a soft peck on top of your head.

“Thanks for the bath sweetheart.”

divider by: @/picopipi

[themillsdaughter]

a privilege I deprive myself of

Synopsis: you would rather chew glass than see Melissa yearn for something and not have it delivered to her. the thing, however, is that your life is a shitshow, and what was meant to be an act of kindness upends any effort you've made throughout the years to keep your feelings hidden.

or slightly insecure! Melissa and traumatized! reader in a Valentine's Day au inspired by this prompt.

Words: 3.9k

Warnings: Talks of body image.

Also, my first time dabbling in this fandom and character, so... Hope you like it!

This isn’t ideal.

Valentine's Day has never been your favorite. Truthfully, you think it’s only yet another excuse for Capitalism to suck some extra cash out of millions of pockets.

You’ve thought this your entire life, regardless of being in a relationship or not. The thing, however, is that you live in a capitalist society and escaping the emotional reliance on the holiday is damn near impossible. So, throughout the years, you’ve come to terms with at least doing something for partners on the day.

Well, that is, until you’d walked in your apartment one day and found your girlfriend straddling a woman you’d never seen before.

This year, you’re single, so the whole thing had just slipped into the background, a red and pink festival more than anything else, really.

“You’re not doing anything?” Janine had asked a few days before in the teachers' lounge, brow furrowed, pity shining in her eyes. Dear God. “You know, Galentine’s Day is really popular now.”

“Honey, I barely want to celebrate the day when I have someone. Why would I make a fuss now that I have an out?” You’d gone back to grading, trying your damnest not to roll your eyes.

“Well, Tariq used to be like that, too. Even though we were together. Sometimes he would forget and go on trips, and those times were pretty lonely… You know, with all the hearts and chocolate and candles and couples around. Not that that’s the case this year, you know. I’m with Maurice, and he’s super attentive.” Her uncomfortable fidgeting had made her chair squeak. As sweet as she is, she should really learn how to stop projecting. “Anyways, I just worry about you. I don’t want you to feel lonely.”

“I don’t.”

“She doesn’t.” Melissa had said, at the same time as you. Looking up from the papers, you’d shared a grin with her. “She has enough wondering thoughts to keep her company.”

Finally, you’d given into your urge and rolled your eyes.

So this really isn’t ideal.

“I think this one is too tight, though.” The voice coming from your phone said. You turned the heat from the stove down, placed a half-lid over the pan, and picked up the device from the counter. On the screen, you saw something that made you pull out a stool from your island and thank God that the woman on the other side of the line was too busy looking at herself in the mirror, brows furiously furrowed, to notice.

Melissa had her hair up in a messy bun, her old pair of glasses hanging in the middle of her nose, and a dark red dress on that stole the breath from your lungs.

The material was soft, with satin-like finish, puffy long sleeves, a square neckline that showed her cleavage to perfection and a skirt that hit her a few inches above her knees.

Nervously, her hands tried to smooth over the creases formed on the dress by her belly.

“Maybe I could wear some spanks” she sighed. “It’s too tight, right?” She turned back to where the phone was, asking you directly.

For a few seconds, you struggled to think of something other than ‘uh’ to say. Melissa is stunning and, in those moments, you wished you’d been braver back when you’d had the chance. Maybe, she’d be asking Barbara this, getting ready as a surprise for you, not for somebody else. 

In a breath, you swallowed that feeling, locking it away with all the ones of its kind, somewhere deep, deep in your soul.

“Hun? It’s too tight, isn’t it? Who the fuck do I think I am trying on something like this.” She’d taken your silence as disapproval, and if she only knew you’d only want to see that off of her if you’d taken it out yourself…

“Shut up, will you?” You finally said. “It’s gorgeous, it looks awesome on you.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s the nicest one of the bunch.”

“I don’t know if I have spanks short enough for it, though. And I need something to get this under control.” She pushed her belly in again, and it enraged you.

“Anyone who doesn’t find that hot is not someone you should listen to.” You said, holding back the rant that always appeared on the tip of your tongue when she said shit like this.

Honestly, the struggle of straight men to like women is mind-boggling.

“You might just be too gay for this.” Melissa snorted, going into her drawer in search of the spanks.

“Well, fuck you very much.”

She barked out a laugh, and you let go of your phone to stir the food you were cooking, glad for a break from the glory of the woman you did not love like that.

Which is yet another reason why this isn’t ideal.

You don’t really care for Valentine's Day, but on the morning of the 14th, Melissa had seemed off. You tried touching on the subject while you two got coffee, as weak as Abbott’s brew always was, however, Gary walked in in all of his mustached glory and her attention immediately shifted to him.

He’s her boyfriend, it’s Valentine's Day, it was only logical.

She gave him hint after hint, pushed her shoulders a bit back, highlighting her breasts just slightly, cocked her hips some while leaning against the sink, licked her lips more than usual, everything to get an ounce of attention back. The absolute idiot fussed over the vending machine, mumbled a few words to her, eyes not even moving in her direction, before leaving with a “see ya later” tossed behind him.

The look that had taken over her face then had made your heart sink.

“He’s been like this all week.” She said during lunch break in your car. “Barbara thinks he might be planning something, says he’s not cheating, but I don’t know… I tried fooling myself with getting the perfect outfit, getting my hair and my nails done, but he hasn’t mentioned any plans, and he’s been so fucking distant, he doesn’t even seem like himself. And I really can’t handle another Joe situation.” Taking the last bite of the Shepard’s pie you’d brought her, she leaned her head against the rest.

To nearly everybody else here, she shows her angry, reactive, gray side. It’s easier for her, something that still makes her an outcast, but firmly protects her inner-self. But some magical, all-powerful, incredible being out there had made it so you were the one she chose to show her other side to, the one that is not always confident, not in her worth or her looks or her ability as a teacher.

The one that loves so intensely it scares her, and the one that has so many scars she spends half her time trying to heal them, or, at the very least, stop them from bleeding all over the place and being visible to the outside world.

“What do you think?” She said, bringing you back to the inside of your 2010s Honda. “You’ve always been better at these things.”

“Do I think he’s cheating on you?”

She nodded.

“Well, first of all, if he is, he is an absolute deepshit who doesn’t know how to count his blessing for you even giving him the time of day.”

You looked into her eyes while you said it, and she turned her head after, staring at the Tupperware in her hands. You thought you saw a blush creeping up on her cheeks.

“But I don’t think he is. Hey, maybe he’s just seen Valentine’s Day for what it is!” You nudged her arm with the back of your hand. “Maybe you’re the one who has to get on board.”

She relented a smile then, but it didn’t last.

“Mel, I think you’ll just have to ride this one out. Wait until the end of the day, so then you can actually have a conversation with him. If he really forgot or if there’s really something wrong, you’ll find out, but, honestly, me? I think he might just have some goofy-ass surprise planned.”

Melissa nodded while keeping her gaze out the window.

There’s a beat, then another, and you thought perhaps you’d convinced her, and she was only taking some time to absorb it.

“You know, you may not feel lonely with this kind of stuff, but…” She paused, voice tired, heart bearing all those tender scars, “I think I’m more like Janine than I’d thought.”

So, hm, this isn’t ideal.

You’d be damned if you let a man who didn’t realize the one in a million he had found ruin Melissa’s day.

Even if Valentine’s Day was traumatic for you, even if it was silly and forced and the world would be better off without it, Melissa was Melissa, and she deserved everything she wanted out of life. You’d thought Gary would see it, but if he didn’t, it’s up to you, even with all your emotional limitations.

So you wrote a little card. Nothing much, just made out of a fancier piece of purple paper you’d had lying around the classroom, with a heart-sticker you’d found at the bottom of your purse decorating the front page. Inside, the note wasn’t all that special, just enough for her to know she would never be alone. That you loved her. That she’d always have you, even if one day she didn’t have anyone else. That she’s your favorite, and if she wanted to, you’d take her out for dinner yourself.

As a friend, of course. Truly.

The fact she made your chest inflate and your pressure drop and a flock of butterflies run a full marathon in your stomach were not things that were included.

After sending the students home, saying goodbye to everyone else (Gregory and his Legos, Janine and her designer bag she knew nothing about, Ava and her many flings and Jacob and his slam poetry), you’d walked to the lounge, where you’d seen Barb and Mel walking towards only a few minutes earlier.

On the way there, you’d seen a bouquet of gerberas discarded on the hallway floor. You’d wondered if a poor kid had gotten broken up with on that day of all days, or if the bouquet held any card of its own. You’d picked it up, deciding to bring it to the compost pile later.

You hadn’t realized how it looked until it had been too late.

“Hey, Mel, I have something for…” You’d started, rounding the corner to enter the room.

“I love you too.” She’d said, looking into Gary’s eyes. In a split second, you’d registered there was something off about her voice, something lacking.

And now here you are, in this less than ideal situation.

All three look at you, standing in the doorway with a card and flowers, calling after another person’s girlfriend. Shit.

“What do you have for her?” Gary’s hand tightens on her waist just so.

So, yeah. Not fucking ideal.

“Hey, look at that. I uh…actually forgot the… ah… The book I was lending you.” You mumble. Spinning on your heels, you walk as fast as humanly possible without breaking into a sprint.

Stupid-ass, invented, asinine holiday.

******

You’re more than half-way through a bottle of Merlot when your doorbell rings.

“Fucking finally!” You shout, jumping from your couch, your belly clenching painfully. Opening up your front door, though, your shoulders drop. “You’re not Postmates.”

“No, I am not. You know what else I also am not? Enjoying this beautiful night with my husband.” Barbara floods you with words, walking past you into the living room.

“Why is that, exactly?” And maybe you’re starting to get drunk, because she seems furious with you, and you can’t remember the last time that ever happened.

“Because I cannot possibly enjoy what was supposed to be a romantic moment with Gerald when I get a desperate phone call from my best friend’s partner asking me if I know where she is.”

It’s too many words too fast, so you sit back down and blink hard, trying to focus.

“What are you talking about?”

“Gary called me. He doesn’t know where Melissa is.”

Melissa. Suddenly, the reason you’d started drinking comes back to you. Shit. Shit shit shit.

“Have you seen her?” Barbara seems to take pity on you, be it for your drunkenness or the way your face scrunches up at the name.

“Not since this afternoon, no. What happened?”

“Gary says she went after you, came back in a different mood. Then they got into an argument in the middle of dinner, because she didn’t seem to be enjoying it, which is strange considering she spent the day worrying he wouldn’t do anything special, as we both know.” She sits down on the futon in front of you. “He says she broke up with him right then and there, and left.”

What?

“What?”

“I don’t understand it either. What did you say to her in the hallway?”

“Nothing, I didn’t talk to her in the hallway, or at all.”

Barbara looks away, shaking her head with an incredulous smile on her lips.

“You two are… God forgive me, but infuriating.” She turns back, sighing. “Did she text you? I’ve called and called, but she hasn’t picked up. She’s not at her house, either.”

“I don’t know.” You pull your phone from the middle of the cushions. “It’s been on focus mode the whole night, I only got notifications for my food.”

“Can you try her? Maybe she’ll pick up if it’s you.”

“You’re starting to freak me out.”

“Yes, well, at least we’ll be on the same page.”

The line rings three times before going to voicemail. Then, there’s someone pressing your doorbell again. Your stomach aches.

Again, not Postmates.

“You’re an asshole!” It’s the first thing out of Melissa’s mouth. As the second person today pushes her way into your home, Barbara jumps up from her seat.

“You’re alive, you’re whole?” She turns Melissa over, taking advantage of the woman’s confusion at seeing her here. “Are you stupidly drunk?”

“Uh… No. Why…”

“Are you going to make any decisions that might land you in jail?”

“No.”

“Thank you, Jesus!” Barbara shouts, letting go of the redhead, lifting her hands in praise, and walking to the door. “Please, resolve your issues and let me have my steak in peace. I’ll call your boy-“ She looks Melissa over. “I’ll call Gary, let him know you’re okay. Goodbye. Also, you’re both on probation until further notice.”

She closes the door behind her with a bang, and the two of you are left alone, staring at each other.

Her make-up is smudged, as if she’d been crying, and that beautiful, beautiful red dress shines under the light. The vision worries you at the same time it sets the butterflies off.

Once more, with feeling: this is not ideal.

It feels like forever goes by, just like this, with neither of you moving or speaking or looking away.

Until she unclenches her fist, and you see your card, the one you’d lost on your rush to leave.

“You couldn’t have picked a better moment?” Melissa asks, placing the piece of paper on your entrance table. Her anger, so explosive moments ago, is low and dangerous now, simmering with the hurt in her eyes.

“Listen, I know how it looked-“

“Any other moment.” She keeps going, incapable of stopping now that she’s started. “Maybe one of the endless times when we sat on that fucking couch watching those boring movies you like. Or… Or maybe one of the nights when we spent hours pouring over project ideas or education strategies. Or really any other time before I made the decision to move on.”

Her heart is there, right in front of you, in the tears that drown the gorgeous green of her irises. Somehow, you feel like this is the cataclysm of thoughts and words and feelings you had both held back for years. 

“What?” You mumble for the second time tonight.

“I found every excuse in the book to avoid this, to avoid looking for someone else. And some of it was true, really. Joe did a number on me, which you know – which is why that just hurt worse.” She points to the card, bent in half and slightly crumbled. “But most of it was crap, and I knew it was crap, but I convinced myself it wasn’t because you weren’t ready, but you are amazing, and maybe it was better to wait just a little longer to see if you ever got your shit together, if you ever got over what that ex of yours did. But you never, ever did.”

“Melissa, the flowers…”

“Yeah, gerberas, my favorites, I know. That was a nice touch. You probably knew he wouldn’t remember that detail.”

“No, Mel, I didn’t buy them.” You step forward, past the table, close enough to reach out and touch her arm, if you were brave enough. You never are.

“What, are you gonna tell me you grew them too?” She snorts, humorlessly. “You know, the worst part is that you encouraged me. You told me to go after him, to let him woo me. Even this morning! You told me to wait for him, just to pull this crap.”

She raises her hand, wipes her eyes, and Christ, what the hell have you done?

She breathes in, and it would be wondrous if it weren’t terrifying, how she puts her heart away, takes the part reserved just for you to see and hides it from view.

“I’ve been in love with you for longer than I know, and this whole time you’ve been leading me on, never really letting me go, no, but still pushing me away.”

In love you with you. In love you with you.

I’ve been in love with you for longer than I know.

It reverberates inside your brain as if an echo in a museum. In love with you.

The person who lights up your days without a fail, the woman who’s made every single potential partner pale in comparison, a staple in your life so important that the mere thought of risking something that could make you lose her had forced you to bury all warm and fuzzy feelings. That woman. This woman. Melissa. Your Melissa. In love with you.

You feel your past is too broken to believe her, but still the thought of her being this hurt is unacceptable.

“Mel, I didn’t write the card to steal you away.”

You risk it now, because you feel her slipping through your fingers, and not seeing her heart when she looks into your eyes makes you feel the loneliest you ever have. You risk reaching over, placing one hand on each of her upper arms. The fabric there is so soft it surprises you.

She flinches, but allows it.

“Just to keep me from giving up, right?”

“You know me better than that.” You try, throat tight. You damn sure hope she does. “I wrote it because you seemed really hurt, and just in case Gary messed up, I wanted you to know you at least had me. You’ll always have me.”

She shakes her head, eyes welling up again.

“What a great pal you are.” Melissa whispers.

“I found the fucking flowers on the floor, I was gonna take them to the trash.” You lose your patience for a split second, because maybe you were tactless, but this is a bit too far, even for such a stubborn woman.

She raises a brow.

“I’m not trying to cover my ass.”

“’You’re the person I think about the most’” She quotes the card. “Did you mean that?”

“Of course.” You say without a thought.

“As a friend?” She challenges.

No. Yes. Maybe. It’s on the tip of your tongue.

If you risk this next step, will you lose her eventually? Like you have every other woman you have loved like this? Will you lose yet another person, yet another soul you feel you can rest beside?

You let your hands travel down slightly.

“Mostly.” She breaks eye contact, frowning. “I cherish our friendship so much, Melissa. But part of me wanted to say more. To say things that weren’t purely platonic. I didn’t mean to steer you around.” You sigh. This is… a lot. “I want to see you happy, Mel. More than anything in the world, you deserve that. And I just felt like allowing myself to feel all those things for you would jeopardize that. You’re an explosive, hot-headed, weird, outlaw Italian with a great mind and a huge, huge heart, and you’re definitely too good for me.”

She shakes her head again, but looking at those amazing, gorgeous, breathtaking green orbs, you find a glimpse of that other side of hers, even if the tears are still there, hiding underneath the surface.

“Today, I only wanted to make sure you would be okay. And I’m sorry about the misunderstanding. I truly didn’t want to ruin that moment for you.” Finally, you reach her hands, and she holds yours back. You fit. “And I have only ever encouraged you to go out there because I really believe you deserve to have the fullest life you can possibly have, and that’s probably with someone… less damaged. Someone good and kind. Someone like Gary.”

Melissa mumbles to herself in Italian.

Forse sarebbe più facile.

“But I don’t love Gary.” She says simply, in English, relaxing into your touch, sending your blood pressure through the roof.

I’ve been in love with you for longer than I know.

“I know.” You say.

You had seen it in her eyes when she’d returned his declaration earlier, the emptiness, the masking, the guilt for lying. She wanted to love him so badly.

She’d looked at you back then and, for a split second, before the confusion and embarrassment that had followed, she’d seemed relieved, as if saying there’s the one who sees me. And something more.

Now, the something more is clearer.

“I know you’re scared.” She whispers again. “And you always, always try to protect me from these things. Never when I get myself mixed up with family business or get into fights…”

“Well, I trust your right hook for that.” You can’t help yourself. She snorts very, very softly, and maybe there’s hope yet.

“But you always try to keep me safe from this, even from you.” Melissa lets go of one your hands, placing a palm against your cheek. Oh, so that’s what it means to have a heart attack. “But I have never, ever, been afraid of your baggage, you jackass.” The spark of defiance that flashes through her expression pulls a smile from you.

If someone had asked you yesterday if this happening was something you thought possible, you’d have laugh them out of the room.

“I just wish you’d given me that god-damn card before I’d wasted this dress on somebody else and had broken a man’s heart for nothing.”

“Poor Gary,” you whisper.

“Yeah… Poor Gary.”

So, perhaps it’s not ideal, with the tears and heartache and being on Barb’s bad side, but she leans up on her tip toes, squeezing your hand, palm migrating down to hold your neck, and despite not being ideal, it does feel oddly right.

“I don’t give a fuck if you hate Valentine’s Day and you think this is corny. You better kiss me before I lose my nerve, or I swear to…”

For the first time in your adult life, you forgo your mind, trying something with risks that may far outweigh the good. With a tug, you pull her in, leaning down, breath catching in your throat when your lips connect, and you find you don’t give two shits about the risks.

Heaven.

Of course, your doorbell rings not five seconds later. Fucking Postmates.

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 33

part 1 | part 32 | ao3

Chapter 8

cw: period-typical attitudes/language

"Steve," Robin hisses through the phone, and he can practically hear her nostrils flaring. "I have been trapped at Uncle Bobby and Aunt Deb's house for six. days." She drops her voice to a harsh whisper, the tone somehow even more disapproving at a lower volume. "HOW have you not kissed him yet??"

"It's not like I didn't try!" Steve throws his hands up; nearly knocks his broom to the floor. He's finally sweeping up the shards of glass in the living room, because he's tired of wearing shoes in his own house (and because at some point he's going to have to have the kids over whether he wants to or not. He's kind of surprised Erica hasn't shown up demanding to hang Christmas lights yet; that girl is aggressively festive.) "He was all 'ask me in the morning,' so I was gonna ask him in the morning! Not my fault it was Monday morning and his stupid uncle barged in yelling about how he was going to be late for school."

"You really shouldn't call him stupid," she interrupts, "that man is a saint."

"No, you’re right. Wayne's awesome."

It’s true. Wayne walked in on them that morning, like, fully spooning in their sleep — Eddie pressed all along Steve's back with an arm over his waist, their ankles intertwined — and rather than beat Steve's ass and ban him from their house like Steve expected him to, he just awkwardly grunted 'breakfast is ready' and shut the door.

"I'm always right," Robin gloats in his ear.

"You're always the worst."

"You love me." Steve hears shuffling as she adjusts the cord — probably wiggling around to lie on her stomach on the bed and kick her feet up in the air the way she likes — and then she says, "I'm still not seeing how this explains the other five whole days, though."

Jesus. Five whole days. Like she's his unimpressed boss and he’s late with the quarterly reports. "Our schedules kept not lining up! And then he went out of town with Jeff's family for the holiday."

"And you haven't called him?"

Steve glares flatly at the phone; hopes she can feel it through the line. "Literally how would I do that, Robin?"

"Well— I don't know! Maybe..." She hums in thought then snaps her fingers, talking fast. "Ooh! You could ask Wayne for the number? I mean, he'd have to know it in case he needed to reach Eddie, right?"

"Uh huh." Steve loves her solution-oriented brain, he really does, but that's one of the worst ideas he's heard in a while. (And he's including Mike and Dustin's attempted kidnapping last month.) "Yeah, let me get right on that," he snarks, switching the phone to his other ear. "I’ll just call them up and say, 'Hey, Mr. or Mrs. Jeff's Grandparents! This is Steve Harrington, may I—? Oh. Who's Steve Harrington, you ask? Nobody, sir or ma’am, just the kid who stood by and watched while his teammates gave your grandson a swirlie two years ago, so I'm sure he fucking hates me still for that! Anyway, can I please flirt with your house guest now?'"

Robin's whinnying into the receiver by the time Steve finishes his rant, and he begrudgingly laughs along with her, shaking his head as he stoops to pick up the dust pan.

"Okay," she concedes. "You may have a point."

"Thank you."

"But you still have to do something to make up for this when he gets home! Otherwise, he's going to think you're, like, having a straight boy crisis or something and get all weird."

"I'm not having a 'straight boy crisis,'" Steve rolls his eyes. He's having a bisexual boy crisis — at least, according to the three hour phone call he had with Robin the other night (which was humiliating, by the way; he never thought he'd be quietly crying tears of total confusion while saying the words 'I still likes boobies, though' out loud. Jesus Christ. Sexuality is embarrassing.) "And I already have a grand gesture in mind, anyway."

"Oh?" Robin perks up. "Do tell."

"I was thinking we could, like..." Hmm. It's sounding less grand when he goes to say it out loud. "Well, shit, I don't know. I thought we could go to one of his shows together when you get back, but now that sounds kind of lame?"

“No, that's good! That's perfect, actually. We can get a whole group together to go support him, then he'll see that you're not embarrassed to be seen around him with your friends."

"Wait, was that a concern?" Oh, god. He dumps more glass into the trash can; hisses when a little shard gets his fingertip; sucks the wound into his mouth. "Are you sure it’s not-? I mean, I want him to know I mean it in a romantic way, not just a friendly gesture."

"Well, yeah, obviously. But you can't just go by yourself; his bandmates hate you."

Oh, right. “Yeah.” That would be pretty awkward to loiter in a booth by himself all night while Jeff and Gareth and the other kid glare daggers at him. "Do you think you could get a group together? If I do it…"

"…We'll be hanging out with a group of dorky freshman all night?”

"Rude."

"Accurate."

"You know what? Tell Deb and Bobby they can keep you."

"Ah!" Robin gasps. "You would turn to stone like a troll in the sun without me, and you know it!"

Man, he misses her. "Yeah, I know it." He puts the broom back up on the hook. "When ya comin' home?"

"Soon, I hope. I swear to god if I have to hear Deb and Patty fight over the leftovers one more time—!" She cuts herself off with a strangled noise, and Steve laughs at her plight. "Anyway, yes. I'll ask some friends at school—"

"—Is one of those friends Vickie?"

“I can multi-task; shut up."

"I love you," he smiles.

"Love you, too, dingus.” Her voice dips soft and sincere for just a second; there and gone. “Hey, I have to go, Carrie wants the phone.”

“You have too many relatives.”

“Ugh, I know. Okay. Leaving for real now; can't wait to see you for Operation Woo Your Man!”

"Robin, no-!”

“Got to go byeeeee.”

“We’re not calling it that!” He holds the phone out with both hands so he can yell into the receiver. “Robin? Robin!"

The line's already dead.

—

part 34

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added tomorrow please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

[thebearer]

autumn leaves falling down like pieces into place |carmen berzatto x reader|

prompt: target, halloween, carmen, and you. or a short, fluffy work about halloween shopping with target bc why not? 'tis the season.

contains: fluff. that's it lol. mentions to past family memories and some insecure carmen, but honestly just fluff!

“Oh, look at this one!” You coo, snatching the tiny ghost figurine off the shelf.  

“Cute.” Carmen muttered, one hand on the obnoxiously red cart, the other on your lower back. “Put it in.” He nodded towards the cart that was slowly starting to fill up. 

The speakers droned out some dull pop song, your coffee and his melting away in the drink carriers on the cart. Carmen didn’t usually prefer Starbucks, much more of a fan of the local coffee spot a block over from The Bear. They knew his regular, made it for him as soon as he walked in. No fuss, no forced conversation- just the way he liked it. 

But you liked Starbucks, well, in the right circumstance. You liked going to Target, you liked having a coffee to sip on while you “browsed”. Browsed, Carmen had grinned when you told him that. 

“You don’t just go out and browse sometimes? Look at things? Window shop to make yourself feel happier?” You’d asked him earlier in the car, head tilting to the side. 

“No, baby. I, uh, I don’t.” Carmen looked over at you, his hand still holding yours in the center console. “But maybe you’re onto somethin���.” 

Carmen’s lack of decorations was deemed a crime in your eyes, which inspired the trip. Halloween trinkets filling the cart, the sly smile you’d give him when you’d slip another one in, just like you were doing now. 

“It’s my treat.” You’d remind him, with a little wink. Carmen let you think that. Like he’d ever let you pay. And miss out on a chance to spoil you? No way. 

“Where’re you gonna put all this?” Carmen hummed, watching you situate the tiny ghost next to the plastic cauldron and iridescent ornaments- something you saw on TikTok that you were going to attempt to DIY. “My place isn’t that big.” 

“I’ll find a place, don’t worry.” You hum, sliding back in beside him, swiping your cup out of the basket. “You’ve got a bathroom, and the kitchen, and the bedroom-” 

“-Bedroom?” Carmen grinned lightly, his hand snaking to your waist while his free hand pushed the cart. “You gonna put this creepy shit in there?” 

“It’s not creepy.” You huff at him. “It’s cute, festive. Makes the place feel more… homey.” 

Carmen decided then, he’d let you put a full fucking skeleton in his room if it made you feel that way. He’d get rid of all his shit, didn’t need it anyways, so you’d have room for all your holiday stuff. Carmen’s heart fluttered at the thought of what Christmas would look like. Would you put up a tree? He hoped you would. He’d go and chop one down if he had to. Where in Chicago he’d find a tree? He wasn’t sure, but he’d find one for you. If it made you as happy as this did. 

“Ok,” You pulled him out of his thoughts, stopping the cart lightly. You plucked the bright orange bag up. “Did you know these are my absolute weakness?” Pumpkin shaped Reese’s, in their bright orange and purple glory. 

“Yeah?” Carmen grinned. “This is it, huh?” 

“Yes, in any shape too. But I prefer the pumpkin.” You went to set it back, Carmen’s hand grabbing the bag lightly and putting it in the cart. 

“‘M more of a Christmas Tree fan.” Carmen shrugged. “You know Cicero- uh, Jimmy-” You nodded, slipping back into his side. “He, uh, he used to bring a bag of these to Christmas every year when I was little. He’d always have to hide ‘em, ya know? My dad… My dad didn’t want us havin’ all that sugar before dinner. Jimmy would come in where all the kids were, toss ‘em to me or Mikey or Richie when he started hangin’ around. Tell us not to get caught, and Merry Christmas, and hide the evidence. We’d eat them before goin’ to Mass, and he did it every year until I got in high school.” 

You smiled softly, hand sliding down his back. “That’s sweet.” You hum, squeezing his hip lovingly. “You should get him some for Christmas this year. Return the favor.” 

“Yeah,” Carmen scoffed lightly. “Yeah, I think he’d like that.” 

A silence fell between the two of you, chatter from the surrounding people, the scratchy-screech of the cart. Carmen’s heart hammered, mind racing. Why the fuck did you tell her that? Fuckin’ ruined the moment. Stupid, fuckin’ stupid. 

“Hey, uh,” Carmen’s hands shook lightly, fingers drumming on the red plastic over the cart. “I-I didn’t mean to… ‘m sorry, I didn’t mean to say all that, ya know? Ruin the-the… I just, I dunno, you said that and-and I-” 

“-What?” You asked softly, brows creasing lightly. “What are you talking about? Say what?” 

“The, uh, the thing with Jimmy. I-I didn’t mean to make it awkward-” 

“Why is it awkward?” You pressed, setting down the candle you were smelling. “I thought it was sweet.” 

“Yeah? I-I just… I dunno why I said it, I’m sorry.” Carmen rambled, a hand falling over his face, hoping you couldn’t see the blush growing over his face. 

“Don’t be sorry, Carm. There’s nothin’ to be sorry about.” You shook your head, waving him off. “It’s a sweet story. I like that you told me that.” 

“Yeah?” Carmen asked softly. 

You nodded, smiling at him. “You know I do, bear.” The nickname rolls off your tongue so effortlessly, calmly- Carmen’s sure he’s going to melt into the floor. 

“Here,” You twist the lid off the next candle. “This one has caramel. You like that, right?” 

Carmen wasn’t sure how you remembered that. He’d mentioned it once, in passing, that he liked whatever you were burning at your apartment when he was over. It was caramel and coffee, you’d remembered, because you showed up at his house with the same candle the next day. A love present, you’d called it, pressing a kiss to his cheek. You didn’t want anything in return, no strings, just buying him something because you wanted to; because he liked it. It was still a new concept to Carmen, how you could love him without wanting anything other than love in return. 

Carmen ducked down, the brim of his hat bumping your wrist lightly. “Yeah, I like that one.” He nods. “Smells like that other one.” 

“Yeah? Not too pumpkinny?” You tilt your head to the side. 

“No.” Carmen laughs, breathy and light. “I don’t smell any pumpkin. Is there pumpkin?” 

“Caramel Pumpkin Latte.” You tilt the label towards him. “They’re saying it’s in there.” Carmen hummed lightly. “You calling them a liar?” You giggle playfully.  

“No, but I am sayin’ there’s not pumpkin in there.” Carmen snorted lightly, putting the candle in the cart anyways. “Not real pumpkin, anyways.”

“Maybe if this chef thing doesn’t work out, you could be a candle critic.” You tease, falling into slow steps beside him. “Be a candle blogger or something.” 

“Candle blogger?” Carmen repeats with an amused smile. “That’s not real.”  

You look at him, eyes wide in excitement. “Oh, Berzatto, am I about to blow your mind.” 

“No? Really?” Carmen laughed. “You’re fuckin’ with me?” 

“No! It’s a real thing, Carmen.” You laugh, pulling out your phone. “There was this woman that, like, went viral because she was going insane about Bath and Body Works not having her candle or something.” You giggle, typing slowly in the search bar. 

“That’s fuckin’ insane.” Carmen rolled his eyes. 

“Yeah.” You smirk. “Think she might’ve started a trend.” 

“Well, can’t do that then.” Carmen shrugged, loading the items on the small platform at the self checkout. “Don’t wanna go up against her, baby. She’s intense.” 

“Yeah, good call.” You grin, pocketing your phone, opening the bags while he scanned the ghost. “Guess you’ll have to stick to cooking.” 

“Guess so.” Carmen muttered, putting the plush pumpkins in the bag, reaching for his wallet. 

“Eh! No!” You click your tongue, eyes flashing at him. “I told you I was buying it.” You put a hand over the card slot, glaring at Carmen with a frown. 

“C’mon,” Carmen shook his head lightly, pushing your hand away lightly. “You got a number you wanna put in?” He nodded towards the screen. 

You pouted, pausing for a moment. “Yes.” You mutter, typing in your number quickly, pivoting your body in front of the card machine. 

“You gonna move?” Carmen looked at you, already reaching around to put his card in. 

“No, I told you it was my treat.” You mutter, twisting with your phone in your hand. One look at the screen, and you were tapping your phone against the screen. The ding chimed, your smug smile spreading across your lips when the receipt printed. 

Carmen was stunned, card still in his hand. “What- How did you-” 

“Gotta be quicker than that, Berzatto.” You grin, pressing a kiss to his cheek. 

Carmen looked down at his card in his hand, shoving it back into his wallet. Maybe Sugar was right, maybe he did need to actually learn how to use his phone. He grabbed the bags from you, swatting your hand away while you pushed the basket back. 

“Shoulda let me pay.” Carmen grumbled, walking beside you out the sliding doors. It had started to get chilly, leaves tinging with warm color and the temperature beginning to drop. “Stuff’s for me anyways.” 

“Yeah, but I wanted you to get it.” You bump your hip playfully with his. “Besides, I told you it was my treat.” 

Carmen didn’t respond, unlocking the trunk and putting the bags in carefully, but the frown didn’t fade. Brows still furrowed and lips still in a hard line. 

“Hey,” You call, stopping him before he could close the trunk. “I told you I wanted to buy it for you.” 

“Yeah,” Carmen’s brows furrowed. “But you shouldn’t’ve-” 

“-Carm.” You groan lightly. “I wanted to pay, ok? You always get me stuff. Let me get this for you, ok?” You say lightly, arms snaking around his shoulders, looping behind his neck. “Let me spoil you, bear. Lemme be your sugar mama.” 

Carmen snorts, lips curling in a grin lightly. “Shut up.” He mutters, your lips closing over his in a sweet kiss. 

You pulled apart, blushed and swooned in a Target parking lot. “You gotta put the stuff up anyways.” You tease, hands sliding down his toned arms, over his color block jacket. 

“Yeah?” Carmen snorts lightly, pulling the trunk shut. “You’re not gonna help me?” 

“I’ll be directing.” You declare, pinching his butt lightly, grinning at how he jumped and flushed. Sliding into the passenger side, you lean across the console to Carmen. “I’ll make sure the ambiance is there.” 

Carmen nodded, starting the car, eyes bright when they met yours. “Light the candle?” 

“Yes.” You laugh. “And I’ll pick out a movie.” 

Carmen snorted lightly, his free hand moving behind your head rest while he backed out. It made your tummy flip with excitement. “Yeah? Casper?”  

You give him a feigned unimpressed look. “You know I’m more of a Hocus Pocus girl.” 

“Right, my bad.” Carmen laughed, hand gripping your thigh lightly, thumb rubbing patterns over the material of your leggings. Your heart skipped. “Fine. As long as you open those Reese’s.” 

“Deal.” You grin, kissing his forearm gently. 

Hours later, wrappers piled on the coffee table, the candle burning in the kitchen, and the orange lights glowing from where Carmen string them over the TV stand in the living room. One Jack-O-Lantern fleece blanket thrown over both of your legs, your head on Carmen’s while the beginning credits of Beetlejuice played on the TV. Carmen decided right there that you were right. This was more homey. Felt… right and content. He wasn’t so sure it was the decorations, more likely it was the girl who picked them out.

[ohtobeleah]

Was It Over? // Jake Seresin

-> Chapter Eight: [Oh, Honeybee]

Summary: Jake can’t accept why you’d keep such a life-threatening situation a secret and you can’t accept why he suddenly seems to care.

Warnings: Sick!reader. Breast cancer diagnosis. Jake Seresin x F!reader. Angst, hospital & medical inaccuracies. SLOW BURN ROMANCE/ Inaccurate medical information. Relationship turmoil.

Word Count: 4K

Author Note: Smaller chapter, but still the same level of pain. Let me know what y’all think about the confrontation of it all.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

“The fuck?” Bradley Bradshaw hated the festive season. He wasn't a Christmas guy. He didn't have an awful lot of family to celebrate with over the consumerist holiday that was shoved down your throat before mid November. He just wasn't the kinda guy who wanted to get involved in the festivities. 

“Who's calling you at ten at night?” Natasha Trace would probably end up regretting her decision to sleep with her co-worker and friend, but the drunken antics she and Rooster had gotten up to earlier in the afternoon ended up with a trip back to his house. 

“Its Hangman–” Bradley answered the naked woman beside him as he sat up in the bed he truly never should have brought her back to. He knew Phoenix would end up regretting her decision to sleep with him. A pity fuck they’d both end up calling it. “Hello?” 

“Are you busy?” Jake asked as he continued to watch you sleep. It had been a few hours since he got to the hospital and about two since he told your mother to go home for some much deserved rest. 

Bradley looked over his shoulder to see Phoenix rolling over, her chest laid flat against the mattress that smelled so much of Bradley. He sighed, peeled the covers up from over his legs and swung them over the side. 

“Nah, what’s up? Everything good?” The pair hadn’t always been on good terms, but ever since Jake had ultimately risked his own life to save Roosters, the two had been able to put their differences aside and let bygones be bygones. 

“I don’t think I’m coming back after Christmas.” Jake started as he let his head lean against the far too uncomfortable hospital chair he’d been sitting in for the better half of four hours. “Somethings’ happened and I dunno what I’m gonna do man.” It was the tone Jake was using that made Bradley frown as he slipped into his sweats. 

“Something happen to one of the kids, man?” Rooster has never heard Jake sound so defeated before. But as he padded down the hall Rooster had to stop in his tracks as Jake explained your current situation. He read the notes right from your chart, from the type of cancer to the stroke you had, how he tried to tuck your hair behind your ear and it fell from your scalp. How he’d tried to win you back, how you’d slept together, how you told him you still loved him yet thought divorce was the best way to go about things. Jake emptied his heart on Bradley sleeve and Bradley didn’t know how to process the pain and anguish Jake was obviously feeling. 

“Are you at the hospital right now? With Y/n?” 

“Yeah—yeah I just sent Maz, Y/n’s mum home to rest and shit.” Jake ran his hand across his face as he watched the IV bag containing your sedative get smaller and smaller. He wasn’t sure how you were going to react when you woke up and saw he was here. “I’ll probably go between here and her house, the kids are at mum's place and I can’t imagine what they’re thinking knowing that we’re both not there.” 

“I could uh—“ Bradley Bradshaw wasn’t a Christmas guy, but he was a family first person. “I could fly out? Maybe get the kids from your mum's house and get them back to Rhode Island? I’m not doing anything this Christmas so I’ve got time.” 

“Bradshaw,” Jake nearly sobbed. “I couldn’t ask you to do that for me.”

“It’s nothing, really, you’re one guy man, stay with your wife, or ex wife? I don’t really wanna get into your business but just text me the details when you can and I’ll organise your kids.” 

“I’ll text you my sister's number.” Jake replied. “She’ll help you out.” There was no real reason to argue, Jake knew that once Rooster had his mind set on something he was gonna do it. 

“No worries, I’m uh—I don’t even know what to say man, I’m so sorry, no one deserves to go through this.” It hit Rooster too close to home, his mother died when he was seventeen from Breast Cancer very similar to yours. It took her quicker than doctors had ever anticipated. 

He just hopes you wouldn’t meet the same untimely fate. 

“Anything man, anything you need, I'm there.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***

Time seemed more like an artificial construct as Jake watched Lydia disconnect the line that had been slowly feeding your body with a moderate range sedative. The young nurse looked guilty as she tried to avoid eye contact with the man she had accidentally told private patient information to. 

“She’ll slowly start to wake up over the next hour now that she isn’t slowly taking on the sedative.” Lydia explained. “She might be quite irritable and loopy but I’ll have her surgeon come by for assessment once she’s up.”

“When I was about your age I accidentally hit one of my commanding officers' car while pulling out of the car park at the Naval Base I was stationed at.” Jake mentioned as he let himself curl up in the world's most uncomfortable chair. “Point is we all

make mistakes, don’t beat yourself up about it, but I’d definitely be a little more cautious when reading patients emergency contacts.” 

“You’re wife’s a pretty strong woman Mr. Seresin.” Lydia smiled. “I hope that despite whatever reason she was keeping all this from you, that she’s happy you’re by her side when she wakes up.” Jake chuckled as he slightly readjusted himself and pulled his hood over his head. There were a plethora of ways you could react to his presence running through his mind, he hoped though, that the young nurse who’d accidentally filled him in on your current fight was right. 

“I hope so too kid, I hope so too.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***

The slow steady rhythm of the many monitors currently tracking your vitals were the first sounds you heard as you slowly but surely woke from what you could only describe as one of the deepest states of complete and utter rest you’d ever experienced. 

Next it was the multi coloured Christmas lights that were hanging around your room. The reds, greens, yellows and blues that reminded you of nineties joy were the first things you noticed in the dimly lit hospital room you knew you were in. 

The third thing you noticed wasn’t a sound or an object, but it was the all too familiar sleeping man curled up in the most awkward position imaginable next to your bedside. Jake, your Jake. Sleeping with his mouth open wide and his arms crossed over his chest. 

“Woah—“ You groggily cooed as you felt the presence of another man checking your vitals beside you. “Whatever the hell kinda drugs you’ve got me on right now Doc has me seeing my ex husband.” You smiled ear to ear as you kept looking at Jake, sleeping, a little bit of drool even tainted his chin as his arms remained crossed and his hood covered his head. “This shits strong as.”

Doctor Ignatii continued reading and recording your vitals the more you came to, he knew, judging by the time you’d finished your dose of intravenous sedative and how cognitive you were, you’d come to realise in about two, maybe three minutes indefinitely that it wasn’t the drugs making you see the mirage of a man at your bedside, but in fact the real deal. 

“Mrs Seresin, can you follow the light for me?” Doctor Ignatii asked with a smile as he clicked on the small but effective flashlight at the end of his pen. He was gentle with the way he handled your head ever so cautiously, holding your eyelids open one by one as you followed the light accordingly. “Can you count to five?” 

“One, two, three, four, five—“ You mumbled out. Jake heard your voice as he stirred next to you and shot up with a gasp that startled you. He looked like a deer caught in headlights as he sat upright and wiped the dry drool from his chin. 

“Welcome back to the land of the living Mr Seresin, I've seen a lot of ways people have tried to sleep in those horrid chairs but I’ve never seen that particular position before.” Doctor Ignatii chuckled to himself as he clicked his pen light off and placed it back in his top pocket. “Alright Y/n, wiggle your toes and touch your nose for me.” All you did was stare at your husband. Why was he here? Who told him? “Mrs Seresin, wiggle your toes for me please.” Doctor Ignatii was a little firmer in his request, he wasn't sure if you were just distracted or if you simply couldn't comply with his request because you couldn't feel your toes.  

But when you finally did wiggle your toes, when you finally brought your index finger up to your nose and when you finally spoke, Doctor Ignatii knew that in the next hour or so when he got you up and walking, that you were going to be just fine.  

“What are you doing here?” Your voice was rather horse from the sedative but you were able to ask Jake that all too powerful question that sliced his skin clean open like one of the sharpest knives never could. Doctor Ignatii knew that he had to give you some space when he was finished assessing your ability to wiggle your toes he cleared his throat. “What the hell are you doing here?” 

“I'll give you two a moment alone, but Lydia will be in shortly.” He explained before making his way out of your hospital room. The silence was deafening as Jake cleared his throat and looked anywhere but in your eyes to begin with. 

“Jake–” You immediately asked again as you tried to sit up a little straighter. “What are you doing here?” Jake ignored your initial question and instead pressed his tongue into the middle of his cheek. His blood was boiling, he was so full of rage that you hadn’t told him you were sick that he couldn't think straight now that he knew you were awake and talking. You were supposed to be the mother of his children if at the very least. He felt like you had an obligation to disclose medical diagnoses that could alter the course of your children's lives. Right? 

“You have cancer and you didn't tell me?” Jake frowned as he spoke through a tired growl. “You have cancer and you didn’t think to mention it at all, not even a downplayed version of the truth? You just–” Jakes reaction wasn't something that surprised you, but his anger did. That anger was something you hadn’t seen in a long time, anger born from love and compassion. An anger so pure it rivalled empathy itself just in a different font. “You just negated the entire thing? Jesus Christ Y/n! You have–” 

“Stage three A, triple positive grade three invasive doctoral carcinoma.” You interrupted Jake as tears welled in your eyes. “I know, I found out back in November, I hadn’t been feeling all that well since around March.” You kicked yourself everyday for not getting yourself to a doctor sooner, but with your separation, work, the kids, you just decided to self diagnose yourself as an overworked mum who had little to no time for herself. Finding the time to see a doctor was nearly impossible, it was only when you found that lump in the shower you panicked. “Jake I–” 

“You–” Jake clenched his jaw as tight as he could, you swore he could have chipped his bottom teeth he was clenching that hard trying to control his frustration. “You don’t get to fucking do this to me do you understand?” 

“Excuse me?” You questioned as Jake stood up from the chair he’d been cramped in for the better half of the last twelve hours. “I didn’t choose to do this willingly Jake are you fucking kidding me?” It may have come out more aggressive than Jake had intended it to, but his heart hurt so much he swore he was having a heart attack the more he looked at you in the hospital bed connected to machines and wires that told him what your heart was doing and what your blood pressure was. “I didn't choose to get fucking cancer!” 

“No, no you didn’t Y/n but you chose not to tell me about it.” Jake sighed. “Am I really that bad of a person that you can't tell the father of your fuckings kids that you might be dying? Stage three!? I'd understand if you had a scare and didn’t mention it or a bad rash but stage three?” Jake spat as he walked around your hospital room like he was looking for a way out of this whole mess. “That’s closer to a death sentence than it is to a malignant mass!” 

All you could do was listen, you couldn't run this time. You had to face the man who broke your heart more ways than one as he raised his voice and walked around your hospital room with his hands on his hips. 

“You, you had a stroke too.” Jake's voice softened as did his eyes, the realisation had hit as the immediate love filled anger that clouded his judgement faded. The misguided anger that he might truly be losing the love of his life had begun to wash away as the sadness crept in. 

“Yeah–” You didn't hold it against Jake, you'd had more time to process this than he did. “Apparently the chemotherapy was just causing havoc to my nervous system and caused a clot that travelled from my leg to my brain.” You said it with a shrug, like it was no big deal. Jake's eyes widened at the idea of something that was meant to help you had done so much damage. “I was given a pamphlet, strokes were a side effect, but I just didn’t think it would happen to me you know.” 

“Honeybee–” Jake cooed as he came back over to your bedside. “I–” There was a distinct tentative pause in the way his hand automatically went to slip into yous, but even though Jake second guessed his own judgement there for a split second, he still placed his hand in yours and reveled in the way you squeezed him back. “I can't understand why you wouldn't tell me about this.” Jake had tried to understand, truly he did. He thought about it alot on the plane–all the ways in which he’d ever let you down. He understood he was a shitty husband, or had been, but this was life or death. 

Jake almost wished he never asked why and had instead just silently accepted the fact you decided not to loop him in on what was probably your biggest health complication since Samuel was born. He almost wished he hadn’t asked because the way you looked right into his eyes as your bottom lip quivered and your eyes watered with such a heartbreaking cry of anguish that ripped through your chest, Jake wished he hadnt fucking asked. 

“I didn't tell you because I just didn't think you’d care.” You cried violently as Jake helped you sit up. “I didnt–I just didnt think youd, you'd care about me.” Your cries were muffled into Jake's shoulder as he held you, he wanted to climb right into the hospital bed with you, but he couldn't. So Jake compromised and leaned over just enough to wrap you in his arms and rub small circles into your back as you buried your face in his chest and shoulder. “I didn't think you’d fucking care–because you haven’t cared about me in years!”

“I have never stopped caring about you.” Jake cried too, he couldn't hold it in any longer. “I have never and I will never stop caring about you Honey.” It was a hard statement to believe especially with what the past four years had been. “I promised you in sickness and in health, I'm here, I've got you.” Jake cooed as he tried to soothe you, your cries of pure anguish for your own situation made him want to die. What more could he possibly do to ease this burden from you, what could he possibly do to take the pain away. “I'm here, I'm right here.” 

“You don’t have to pretend.” You tried to calm yourself down as much as you could. “Please Jake you don’t have to pretend to care about me anymore, I’m not yours.” 

“No you’re not—“ Jake nodded in agreement as he pulled away to wipe your tears, you looked like hell but he wasn’t about to tell you that. To Jake you were still the most beautiful woman in the entire world, the only woman he ever needed, wanted. “But I’m still yours alright, you have me and I’m not pretending.” Jake wiped the pads of his thumbs across your cheeks, he tried not to tug at the oxygen tube feeding into your nose. “I’ve got you yeah? You don’t have to do this alone.” 

“I never wanted to do any of it alone.” You sobbed again, it was all too much. Jake knew what you meant by all, you never expected your marriage to fall apart. Neither did he. “I can’t do any of this, I’m so fucking scared.” If someone had asked Jake three years ago if his marriage would fall apart around him, he would have stood up and punched whoever had said such blasphemy in the mouth. But here he was. 

“You’re okay.” Jake tried his best to console you, he did know what else he could do in the moment beside to hold you. The kiss he left atop your forehead was so pure and full of love you swore it sent an electric shock through your body, the same kind of electricity you felt when you slept with Jake the night before you said goodbye to your kids. “I'm not leaving your side alright, “I’m here, I've got you, I can't lose you this way– I wont.” 

Jake knew this love was a burden that you both shared. The both of you were just two sinners who can't atone from a lone prayer. Two souls tied, intertwined by pride and guilt. 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***

Jake was true to his word, he didn't leave your side for the rest of the day. He stayed right by your side hand in hand, just sitting there, talking, not talking, sleeping. All that mattered was that he was there. 

“What do you mean Bradley Bradshaw offered to get the kids from your mum's house?” You thought for a split second that perhaps you hadnt woken up. Or maybe you'd actually woken up in some parallel universe where your husband never forgot how to love you and he didn't have a disdain for the man who gave him his Call Sign out of rage. “Bradley Bradshaw? As in Rooster?” 

Jake couldn't help but to smile, there was so much he had to fill you in on, the two of you hadnt really sat down and spoken uninterrupted without the kids since January. Sure there were family functions and times where you and Jake had to coexist and coparents. But he never really saw a reason to tell you all about his time in North Island. You were with him when he was called to Togun the first time, there wasn't any need to really rub your nose in the fact he was called back again. After all, a part of the reason you left was because Jake prioritised his work life over his home life, more specifically, you. 

“Would you believe me if I told you I saved his life?” Jake couldn't erase the grin that grew ear to ear from his face as he watched your eyes light up with shock and excitement. He missed this, the gentle moments. 

“You did not–” In all the time you had known Jake while he was a loyalist to the United States Navy, he had never once put a toe out of line. Never pushed back, never rocked the boat. He had a goal and that goal was to reach the top. You couldn't do that while drawing unwanted attention to yourself. 

“I did,” He chuckled through that very grin that you swore was permanently pinned to his cheeks. “Even went against orders to do it.” The look of pure shock on your face told Jake all he needed to know, you didn't believe what he was telling you. 

“Who are you and what have you done with Jake Seresin?” You chuckled softly as Jake ran his thumb across your hand. “You? Going against the brace? Unheard of.” A lot of what made Jake, well, Jake–was that he loved his job. 

“Trust me Honey I never thought I'd see the damn day either.” Jake sighed, he still couldn't believe how much his time in North Island had changed him. How it broadened his perspective on all the things that made him simply him. “But he was stuck in a pretty tight spot, so was Mav, our Captain.” 

“Well–” You smiled as you readjusted yourself in your bed. Unbeknownst to both you and Jake, Lydia was watching just out of frame from her spot at the nurses station. She couldn't help but to notice the loving, all encompassing look the two of you shared. Perhaps her small mistake that usually would have been a carrier ending HIPAA violation wasn't so bad after all. “Look at The Hangman go huh, who says he's always leaving people out to dry.” 

“Oh I could still name a few–” It was organic the way you and Jake fell into a rhythm with one another when the pair of you allowed each other to do so. “But yeah, he's gonna fly in, get the kids for us because I really don't want them there for too long without at least one of us there and bring them back to your mums for us.” 

“Is she alright with that?” As always Jake knew you would think about everyone but yourself when the only person you should have been thinking about right now was you. “What if she–” Jake cut you off with a simple shake of his head.  

“I already organised it.” Jake explained softly, his thumb never stopped stroking your hand as he held it. “Your mums gonna take the kids while we figure all this out, I don't want them with mine.” It wasn't that Jake didn't love his Ma, he did. But the idea of her having the kids for an extended amount of time gave him stomach issues he couldn't handle. “I saved his life, I trust him to escort our three terrors back here.” 

“Have you met our kids? You asked with an all knowing look that Jake caught right away. Maybe Rooster wasn't the best person to call on, he had zero experience with kids, let alone Jake's twins and two year old. 

Jake knew that you knew there was a darkness in the distance, but in the moment while everything felt normal, you both laughed together knowing exactly how the flight with your kids would go for Bradley Bradshaw. 

“You’re totally right–” Jake cooed. “He might need to bring his flight helmet as a safety precaution.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~

Tags: @blindedbythelightt @starset21 @tayl0rhuynh @mamachasesmayhem @marvelogic @itsmytimetoodream @maverick-wingman @kodzukenmaaa @eternalsams @seitmai @nota-professional @jessicab1991 @hardballoonlove @senawashere @lafrone @fanficfandomlove @withahappyrefrain @dizzybee03 @maisie-rebloging-blog @goldenseresinretriever @a-reader-and-a-writer @sunlightmurdock @shelbycillian @memoriesat30 @accioprocrastination @the-aspiring-fanfic-writer @athenabarnes @eternallyvenus @emma8895eb

[my-castles-crumbling]

Of course James knows what Mistletoe is!

for @siriuslygay1981 - AU- everyone lives, no voldemort - jegulus holiday fluff

He knew what mistletoe was, of course.

In theory.

It was a plant. That one kissed under. Easy enough.

So when the holidays approached and he still hadn't succeeded in building up the courage to kiss the object of his affections, forgive him for taking up a new tactic. It was festive.

The first step?

Get a plant, of course.

But it was cold! It was snowy, and windy, and he didn't really fancy bundling up. So, he figured, all plants were basically the same, right? (He was a very smart person but he wasn't exactly a star in Herbology.)

Good thing he knew where the kitchens were.

He grinned to himself, praising his own intelligence, as he left the kitchens with his plant, and also possibly an entire cake because the house elves insisted.

Step one- check!

The second step?

Hang it up high.

In all the stories he'd heard, the mistletoe had been hung above doors, so he contemplated the perfect door to hang his plant.

Eventually, he settled for the entrance to the dungeons.

Why?

It seemed easy enough to get both of them in that spot at the same time, during a time that might be at least a little more private. He didn't want to embarrass anyone, after all.

So, with Remus grudgingly standing lookout a ways away, he levitated the greenery above the entrance and affixed it with a simple charm, admiring his work for a minute before running back to his friend.

Step two- check!

The third step?

Get both of them there at the same time.

It was odd, he realized. For a group of people who talked a lot about mistletoe, a lot of students didn't seem to want to actually follow through with the tradition. Even pairs who were obvious couples walked under his trap without kissing, and the only reaction he observed were some confused glances and pointing.

Oh, well. James Potter was nothing if not a trendsetter.

So, the next day, he mustered up all of his courage and walked up to his target.

"Can I walk you to Potions, Reg?" He asked in his most gentlemanly voice.

"Bugger off, Potter," the shorter boy said through a grimace, barely looking up from his breakfast.

But James was nothing if not persistent. "C'mon, Reggie! Please?"

Regulus Black looked up, considering. James caught an endeared look in his eye. Ha!

"Fine. I have to go early to work on an essay. Let's go now," Regulus relented.

James couldn't stop himself from beaming as he grabbed Regulus's bag before he could protest, carrying both bags on his left shoulder so he could grab Regulus's hand in his right one. Regulus gave him a look, but didn't pull away.

Step three- check!

His heart positively hammered as they approached the entrance to the dungeons. Would Regulus know what mistletoe was? Would he see it? Would he want to kiss James? They'd spent a lot of time together lately, flirting and playing Quidditch, but perhaps it was just as friends? Regulus was difficult to read...

But, thankfully, Regulus stopped as they reached the door, pointing above them. "Have you seen that?" he asked, a smirk on his face.

Could it be true? Was Regulus hinting that he wanted to kiss him, too?

"Yes," James breathed. "It's-"

"Lettuce. So odd. I wonder who did it," Regulus said while chuckling a bit.

James realized he'd have to explain. "It's a holiday thing, Reg. Mistletoe."

Regulus gave him a long look. For the first time, James began to feel like maybe he was missing something. "Potter, not all plants are used as mistletoe. Mistletoe is a specific type of plant. It has little green leaves and white berries."

Oh, no.

He could feel himself turning red.

Oh, fuck.

"Potter? Did...did you hang the lettuce?" Regulus asked, his expression unreadable.

"No," he muttered, refusing to meet Regulus's eyes.

"Potter. Why did you hang the lettuce?" Regulus pushed, his voice almost gentle, now.

"Erm..." James sighed. 'I wanted to kiss you' sounded so desperate to say out loud.

"You thought it was mistletoe?" Regulus asked.

James squeezed his eyes shut, feeling unbelievably foolish. He nodded.

"And you hung it? And...led me to it? Why? As a joke?" Hurt. Regulus's voice sounded cold and hurt now.

James opened his eyes quickly. "What? No, I-"

"You thought it'd be funny to kiss me, to mess with me like that?" Regulus continued, looking angry, now. "Or were you trying to catch Evans as she went to her class, but you decided to settle for me, instead?"

This was not 'Step Four- Kiss Regulus'. This was not going right. And James was panicking. And sometimes James said stupid things when he panicked. "No, Reg! I just wanted an excuse to kiss you, because that's all I've been thinking about for weeks!"

Regulus stopped ranting then, and stared. "That's not true, Potter."

"Well it bloody well is! Ask Remus, or your brother, or Peter! You're really all I can talk about! It's pathetic!" James said, throwing his hands up in the air. "And I finally came up with such a good plan, and now I buggered it all up!"

But Regulus just took out his wand, and for a moment James thought maybe he was going to hex him, but he pointed it up toward the browning, wilted piece of lettuce on the ceiling.

Suddenly, it began to transform, to a sprig of small leaves and berries, a red bow tying it all together.

"That is mistletoe," Regulus murmured softly, yanking on James's collar and pulling their lips together.

Step four- check!

Hope you guys enjoyed! Click here to leave comments/kudos!

[icallhimjoey]

Can we have a sweet and soft Christmas eve with Joey? Just the two of us? pretty please

this was requested at the perfect time, so thank you, and merry christmas my sluts! Wordcount: 1.7K

---

Still Love Me?

"I'm sorry, I'm not crying because I'm upset, d-don't worry, I just..."

You don't get like this very often. Usually, trying to be extra affectionate makes you scrunch your nose up, makes you squirm and laugh and cringe. Makes you push him away, not taking the extra hugs and kisses seriously at all.

Joe doesn't mind.

"What's wrong?"

It's actually nice to not always feel the need to give you more. To not be afraid that maybe you'd be upset after not immediately coming over to hug and kiss you when he'd walk in at the end of the day.

But something's different tonight.

It's likely the holiday stress that's getting to you. Nothing a pair of extra affectionate warm embracing arms won't fix.

"I thought we had more cheese, but all we've got left is this..."

You suppress a sob.

Unsuccessfully.

Joe knows the tears are only there because all of everything has come together for the perfect storm, and you're just about ready to fall apart.

It's sort of cute that it's a lack of cheese that does it, and Joe's secretly glad it's not something that he'd done or said that got you. That it's not his fault, and that he doesn't have to apologise over something unimportant.

It's fine, though, the crying.

Joe had been ready for it.

He's got steady hands and is prepared to catch whatever needs catching. Knows how to put you back together just fine.

"Why did I do this? I've got to stop sneaking things, I– look, there's no... this is all we've got..."

You've got family coming over tomorrow, and it's the first year that your place is the spot for the big get together. It's nerve-racking in new ways you didn't know existed before because you're bringing both sets of parents in, and all you want to do is make the family proud.

Be the perfect daughter.

Have the stepmothers and stepdads get along as well as all of the divorced people. All of the siblings. Step-siblings.

Fuck, there's too many people coming over.

Could you still cancel, do you think?

You just... you just want Christmas be wholesome, and festive, and cosy, full of laughter and love and just... have it be perfect.

It's almost become a bit of a passion project, and it's quite literally driven you mad.

Well. Driven you to tears, at least.

Joe looks over and sees you hold a little block of brie cheese. It's not much, and it's got a bite taken out of it.

"Wait, did you–" Joe's already smiling, because what the fuck is he looking at right now? His girlfriend's got tears in her eyes and is stood in front of the opened fridge door, holding a bit of French cheese that has teeth marks in.

Surely, you are able to imagine what this looks like from his point of view.

It's at least a little funny.

But another sob wracks from your chest and all Joe can do is step closer and wrap arms around your shaking frame.

He's allowed to laugh as he does so.

"I didn't know- I thought we had more, b-but this was all we have, and I snuck a bite last night, because I– I was peckish and just wanted a little something, and–"

"Hey," Joe leans back and gets your face in both his hands. He's still smiling. Can't not smile, because this is ridiculous, but you also look very cute. Red nose. Fat tears stuck in your eyelashes. The colour of your eyes about ten times brighter because of the unshed ones.

"We'll serve 'em dry crackers, and they'll fucking take what they're given, all right?"

You pout and hold up the evidence of your late-night-snack-run in your own kitchen from the night before. It's right in between your faces and gives Joe a chance to really see the cause of the outburst.

"Still love me?"

Joe looks at the brie a second and then lurches forward with a growl, sinking teeth into the soft cheese for a bite of his own.

"Still love you." he replies, mouth full of cheese.

You can't help the choking laugh, head cocking to the side as a defeated soft chuckle leaves you. It only makes Joe want to grab hold of you tighter.

"Hmm," Joe hums, now chewing, and he frowns. "This is good. We should–" he can't finish the sentence without laughing, knowing it's likely the wrong thing to say, but he's already started the sentence. You get a good eyeful of the cheese in his mouth, in between his teeth. "We should get more of this."

Well, you can't.

Hence the crying.

You pout once more and then groan. It's so stupid, you're well aware. You just need a bit of sleep. Your family won't hate you because there's no cheese.

And if anything, you could throw it into the group chat and are sure that at least three people have some brie to bring along tomorrow.

You really are just very tired.

"Tell you what," Joe says, now taking the little piece of cheese from your fingers, one arm still around you. "We'll finish this, have some hot chocolate and just... relax. Watch a Christmas film. Tomorrow is tomorrow and tonight is tonight, you've done enough prepping and it'll all be fine–"

"Perfect." you correct.

It's important that everything will be perfect.

"It'll all be perfect." Joe coos, voice smooth like butter.

You sniff and look at him a moment. He's still chewing. Smiling. Joe's being all playful and it's reminding you of why you love him so much. Glancing into the living room, you know Joe's right. Everything's ready. Everything's done.

It's Christmas Eve.

"Calm before the storm." you sigh, patting Joe where you're holding onto him. Then lower down, quick touch to the bum. Joe easily lets you.

"Calm before the storm." he confirms before you let go of each other. You move to collect yourself, wiping fingers below your eyes, and Joe opens a cupboard to get to mugs out and says, "And I'll go get extra cheese tomorrow, it'll be fine."

You're about to protest. Tell him that the shop you usually go to won't be open. It'll be Christmas. And everyone's stocked up already. Shelves are empty all over. But Joe sees it across your face before you can say anything and adds, "I'll find some, don't worry about it."

And so you don't.

You accept a kiss to your temple, a deep inhale of your hair and you tilt your head for a kiss on the lips. A quiet thank you.

After a squeeze of your arm, Joe gets started on the hot chocolate and you decide to see if there's anything good on TV or if it'll be Netflix for the night.

Before you've been able to make a choice, you hear mugs being filled and you scurry back into the kitchen. You get to the fridge before Joe does, which was the plan. You find the can of squirty cream amongst all of the food and drink - your fridge has never been this full. It's almost triggeringly full; so much food, yet so little cheese.

It takes you too long, and Joe joins to look over your shoulder, to see if he can spot it before you do.

He doesn't.

You find it and giggle excitedly, a little delirious (you've gone mad, remember?) as you shake it with a wild arm. Your demeanor is the opposite of what it was minute earlier.

No tears. Just manic laughter.

Makes Joe laugh just the same. His girlfriend's gone insane and, if he's honest, he's kind of into it.

You spray some cream into both mugs that Joe's filled with hot chocolate, and before you place it back into the fridge, you shake the can again.

"You just said you should stop sneaking things," Joe isn't exactly trying to stop you, but he knows what you're about to do. Feels like it's worth saying something, to maybe prevent a further break down.

It's of no use, though.

His comment makes you glance him pointed a look. It's ridiculous of him to assume you'd been serious. Of course you're not going to stop sneaking things. He doesn't see the deadpan stare you give him because he's busy placing mini marshmallows onto your drinks, but despite the advice, you go for it anyway.

You tip your head back and spray some of the cream directly into your mouth.

"My God," Joe says when you let it go for a little too long, and when he looks, he barks a laugh.

You've overdone it.

It's too much.

Well, is it ever too much? Not really. But it doesn't fit into your mouth and thus there's a problem. This is going to be messy.

With your head still tilted back, you release a small sound of panic at the inability to close your mouth and raise a cupped hand, ready to catch whatever is going to spill.

But Joe knows just the perfect fix, and he's quick.

Before you know what's happening, your boyfriend's got his hand on the back of your neck, digging in strong fingers and guiding your head forward.

Just before whatever your lips can't curl around is about to slide down your chin, Joe's mouthing at it and manages to get it all, tongue licking and lips closing around your opened ones.

What follows is a weird, full-cheeked sticky, creamy, sugary kiss that has you giggling into each others mouths.

It's still messy, but you'd easily do this again. Would it be too obvious if you just went for an insane mouthful once more?

Joe pulls back, sees he's missed a bit and doesn't hesitate to lick at the corner of your mouth, making you shriek with your mouth closed, pushing him away.

"You're gross," you say fondly after swallowing.

He's also adorably sweet, but he doesn't need telling.

Joe lets his head bobble back a little as he silently laughs, wiping at his own mouth with the back of his hand, glad to have been of service.

"Yea? Still love me?"

Tomorrow's going to be fine.

There's no cheese but for the little chunk you're about to share. It'll likely be all gone if you both have a single cracker with some on.

And there probably also won't be any squirty cream left, what with your plan to bring the can over to the sofa for top-ups after you've eaten all of it off. Or, you know, after you've sprayed more of it into your mouth just so Joe can eat it out of there again.

You families can have hot chocolate without any, and Joe's right. They'll fucking take what they'll be given and be grateful.

Or, Joe can find some tomorrow.

Somewhere.

Whatever.

You're no longer fussed.

It's Christmas. Christmas Eve.

"Still love you." you beam, because you do.

You really, really do.

---

The Taglisted

@adoreyouusugar, @alana4610, @ali-in-w0nderland, @alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @barfightzanddiscolightz, @bettyfrommars, @cancankiki, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson, @chrissymjstan, @choke-me-eddie, @demonsanddemogorgons, @did-it-work, @dirtyeddietini, @dylanmunson, @eddies-puppet, @electricmunson, @emma77645, @emmamooney, @everythinghasafacee, @figmentofquinn, @frootvelvet, @ghost-proofbaby, @ghostinthebackofyourhead, @harringtonfan4, @haylaansmi, @jasminearondottir, @jewellethief, @joesquinns, @kellyxo1, @kennedy-brooke, @lovelyblueness, @manda-panda-monium, @miserybeans, @nadixq, @notverywise, @pepperstories, @phyllosilicate-s, @roosterisdaddy36, @sherrylyn628, @sidthedollface2, @thebellenouvelle, @thewondernanazombie, @tlclick73, @werepartnersnow, @winterwakesthewolf, @witchwolflea, @yelyahcardella, @yunirgo

taglist currently full, sorry

[cranberrymoons]

may your days be merry

prompt: angst with a happy ending (@steddieholidaydrabbles) word count: 942 rated: t tags: post-s2, steve has head trauma, eddie sells drugs

welcome to Day 14 of the fic advent calendar – bite-sized fics posting every day during the month of december. enjoy!

The headaches start shortly after the second time he gets his ass kicked. 

The ass-kicking happens around Halloween, and the headaches start around Thanksgiving, and he buys weed from Eddie Munson for the first time around Christmas. 

He can mark it out like that: holiday after holiday, little milestones in the deterioration of his brain. He wonders if it’s going to do something to him long-term: the weed or the ass-kicking or the headaches themselves or maybe even all of it. 

Probably. 

A guy doesn’t usually get his brain punched through the back of his skull without some sort of lasting consequence.

The first time he buys, it’s out of desperation more than any real desire to get high; it’s been days since he properly slept, migraines acting up again and making it so that his scalp feels like it’s going to dissolve into atoms and vibrate off his head if he actually lays down all the way, so he’s been sleeping sitting up. 

Sort of, propped on a stack of pillows culled from the rest of the house, but it’s not exactly the most comfortable arrangement. One of the guys on the swim team had mentioned that weed can help chill you out, turn off your brain, make it so your thoughts don’t go spinning out in a thousand different directions like Steve’s do if he’s not careful about keeping a tight hold on his head.

Literally, figuratively.

His head’s all sorts of out to get him lately, ever since last year. 

The first headache, the worst one – not worst in the sense of worst pain, but worst in the sense of like… he just wasn’t expecting it, and so it really fucked up his whole week – that headache came two days before Thanksgiving, when he was on a plane halfway between Indianapolis and New York to visit his grandparents. His parents were sitting two rows ahead of him and unable to help as the changing pressure in the cabin turned his brain to splinters.

By the time they’d landed, the headache had gone away, and so he didn’t mention it, but then it came again and again and again, and so now he’s here. 

Here in the doorway of Eddie Munson’s trailer, feeling like he hasn’t slept in days, because he hasn’t. Feeling like there’s nothing holding him up except sheer force of will. Feeling so, so impossibly alone. 

When Eddie answers the door, there’s an old movie playing on the TV in the background, something festive and cheerful with a bunch of songs in it. Steve’s eyes catch on the screen as he watches Bing Crosby tap dance in technicolor.

“What do you want?” Eddie repeats, ducking his head to force Steve to meet his eye. He even snaps his fingers a few times to get his attention. “Weed? Coke? Party drugs?”

Steve blinks, long and slow. He sways a little on the spot, clears his throat. 

“Not partying,” he says quietly. He looks down at his feet in his sneakers and Eddie’s feet in his socks, the two of them only a foot apart. “I just need to sleep.”

A line appears between Eddie’s eyebrows. He tilts his head toward Steve. “Are you like… okay?”

And that’s – Steve lets out a little laugh that sounds something like a sob, and that’s – 

“No.” He runs a hand back through his hair. “No, man. I’m not okay.”

No one’s asked him that in at least a year. He feels like crying. He thinks he actually might.

Eddie nods slowly, taking him in. “Right on,” he says. Then he opens the door a little wider. “You want to come in? Christmas movie marathon.”

Steve raises his eyebrows, looks between Eddie and the room behind him. “You want to hang out with me?”

“If you’ll deign to grace me with your royal presence,” Eddie says. He widens his eyes, and it’s a little teasing. A little funny, and Steve feels the corners of his mouth twitch with the first smile he’s had in days as Eddie swings the door even wider, letting him inside with a weird little bow and a flourish. “My liege.”

“What’re you watching?” Steve asks as he shrugs out of his coat. 

He hangs it neatly on the hook near the door and looks around the room as Eddie clatters to the fridge to pull out two beers, cracking both open and passing one to him. Steve accepts it, leaning his hip against the counter as Eddie stares at him from where he’s relaxed back against the sink.

“White Christmas,” he says. “But it sucks.”

Steve laughs a little – an actual laugh, bubbling up out of his chest before he can stop it. He takes a swig of his own beer and glances back toward the screen. 

“Got any other options?”

Eddie grins. “Gremlins.”

Steve frowns, shaking his head. “That’s not a Christmas movie.”

“What?” Eddie scoffs. “Please, it totally is.”

“In what way is Gremlins a Christmas movie?”

Eddie’s eyes flash as he pushes himself off the counter, giving Steve a look as he passes by on his way to the living room. He collapses on the couch, feet up on the coffee table. 

“Guess I’ll just have to prove it to you,” he says, tilting his head to the side.

And Steve – exhausted and relieved because his headache is all but forgotten – crosses the room to join him, curling his legs under himself as he sinks down to sit. Eddie’s eyes skate over him as he reaches for the remote, face unreadable, and Steve just smiles back.

[also on ao3]

[i-am-a-secret-ssshhh]

An Obey Me X Twisted Wonderland Prompt

So, if MC went from Obey Me to Twisted Wonderland, I think it would be very funny if no one believed them when they started to open up about their time in the Devildom.

Like, they tell people they lived with the Seven Deadly Sins, they know the Crown Prince of Hell, etc. but no one believes them. They just kind of brushed it off as them trying to either get attention or to claim that they do know a thing or two about magic, but it's just different, when they are all under the assumption that MC doesn't have magic at all.

So, a bit frustrated, I would love it if MC would just start making shit up. They think they're probably never getting home, and even if they do get home, there's no way the people here will ever actually know anything about the Devildom because it's in another world.

They start making up random holidays, random trends, random career paths, random foods, and various other things. It's all fake. They know that it's fake. But they don't care, at this point it's entertaining. It would be super funny if they had an entire notebook dedicated to their lies so that they can keep them straight. Or if they had a datebook and just filled out random dates with various holidays.

(Bonus points if they end up convincing a few people, or letting the Adeuce duo in on the secret and they began treating it like MC was telling the truth and they believed them word for word)

And then the Obey Me Boys come, and everyone realizes, "Oh my god, MC wasn't lying. We need to learn more."

They start questioning all these crazy things because, even if these people and that place are real, all these facts can't be, right?

Everyone, despite not knowing about this prior, immediately agrees with whatever MC said. Lucifer and Beelzebub are probably a bit more ambiguous with their answers, Lucifer because he doesn't want to lie about the Devildom, and Beel because he doesn't want to answer in a way that may contradict, what MC has said.

Examples:

Random Twst character: So, do you guys really have a weeklong Chicken Dance Day Festival?

Diavolo, who has no idea what they're on about: Of course, it's a week after our two-day Macarena Day Festival.

.

Random Twst character: Do you guys really eat fire?

Satan, just hearing this for the first time: Most of us, but there are certain colors of fire that the lower-level demons can't stomach.

.

Belphie: *Gets woken up by Random Twst character*

Random Twst character: Do demons really hibernate for three decades after a few centuries?

Belphie: Yes.

Belphie:...

Belphie, deciding to add onto whatever the fuck they're talking about: But I'm a special case. I hibernate whenever I want for however long I want because I'm the Avatar of Sloth.

.

Random Twst character: Is it true that you once held up Lord Diavolo's Castle with one finger because there was a rat?

Barbatos: Of course. Mc could never have killed the rat if I hadn't.

.

Random Twst character, looking judgingly at Lucifer: Do you really breathe fire?

Lucifer: *Raises an eyebrow, but gives no actual response*

Random Twst character: *Is intimidated and drops the subject*

.

Random Twst character: MC says that you once gambled for five days straight and held a winning streak that entire time.

Mammon, feeling his ego grow ten times larger: Course they did! MC should want all of ya' to know about the Great Mammon.

.

Random Twst character: MC says you can talk to fish.

Levi: Duh.

.

Random Twst character: Is it true that you once knocked out an entire banquet of demons with one soup?

Solomon, suddenly feeling very hurt: Wha-

Simeon and Luke: Yes!

Beelzebub: *frantic nodding*

(MC didn't actually lie about this one, but maybe exaggerated a bit)

.

They probably confronted MC after a few days, and they all had a good laugh about it.

If MC did have a notebook or a datebook filled with whatever they've made up along with when these things supposedly take place, they would probably make more for the Obey Me boys who are now in on it.

[whumpdoyoumean]

Whumptober #29

A/N: Sorry for the delay on this one, guys! Holiday festivities have been keeping me busy, but hopefully I'll get the last two out on time! :D

-

part 1

xxx alternate prompt: used as bait

River is having a hard time focusing. He's in a wooden chair. The rope binding his wrists to the arms are tied tightly enough that the scratchy fibers bite into his skin. His captors hadn't bothered with his ankles. Probably figured there was no need, since the bones in his lower right leg are most likely in about a million little pieces.

The room is cold.

Any adrenaline he'd had from the attack has long since faded, and his leg is killing him. It might literally be killing him, actually, because at the moment it's all he can think about. He should be trying to figure out a way to escape, but he just can't get his thoughts to line up properly for long enough to come up with anything helpful. Or anything unhelpful. Any hope for survival, it seems, rests on the shoulders of the Slow Horses.

He thinks probably he's not supposed to find comfort in that—the Horses being, well, the Horses—but he does. Or, maybe not comfort, per se, but there is a distinct lack of dread which is close enough.

The strangely calm, detached feeling continues even when a door opens somewhere behind River, and he hears the sound of footsteps. It's the first time any of his captors have entered the room where he's being held. If he were going to feel dread at the situation, now would be the time for it.

Instead, he says, "It's about time. I've been here for ages, could really use a drink. You haven't got scotch, have you?"

"You're funny," the person who'd just entered says, and he sounds...normal. River's not sure what he expected – maybe something more Darth Vader-like? At the very least a little gruff and intimidating. This guy sounds like he could host a mediocre lifestyle podcast. He walks into River's line of sight and waves. He's got a mask and gloves on, and River recognizes the outfit. This is one of the people that had dragged him into the car. He gestures at River's leg.

"That must hurt." The way he says it seems...odd. Loud. "Mind if I take a look?"

River shrugs.

"Be my guest."

The man draws a knife from a sheath at his hip and steps forward, slicing open the leg of River's trousers to the knee. He hisses a little, then straightens, glancing over his shoulder before saying, again overly loudly, "It doesn't look good. Definitely broken. You'll need surgery if you don't want to walk with a limp for the rest of your life. Might even need to get it amputated if it's bad enough."

This man, this weird fucking guy, is behaving oddly enough that it gives River something to focus on other than the agony in his leg. He wants to interact with him more, see if he can figure anything out...

"Yes, well, that's what happens when you hit someone with your car."

It's the wrong thing to say, apparently. Or maybe what happens next would have happened no matter what he said, or didn't say.

The man kicks River's leg – not hard, he barely touches it in fact. But that's more than enough for the already awful pain to become excruciating. River's vision goes black, and when awareness comes back he can hear someone screaming. He's screaming. He clamps his mouth shut on the sound.

"You--" he gasps, struggling to catch his breath. He's trembling, and a cold sweat has broken out over his forehead. "You bastard."

When he looks at the man, though, the man isn't looking at him. He's looking up at the wall. At the camera. That's why he's been speaking so loudly, acting like he's putting on a show. He is putting on a show. Because River's not the target.

He's the fucking bait.

"It's not like I enjoy this," the man is saying. God, he's a shit actor. Probably wouldn't know subtlety if it bit him on the arse. "None of this has been for-"

"Right," River interrupts. He's in too much pain and too angry to listen to this prick monologue. He doesn't know for sure whether it's a live feed or whether the camera is recording a video that the man intends to send later. He really, really hopes it's the former. "Are they seeing this right now?"

River can't see the man's face, but his posture changes, growing rigid. He looks up at the camera again and River almost smiles. Clearly he hadn't intended for River to catch onto that part of his plan. River looks at the camera now, too.

"It's a trap," he says loudly. "You dickheads better not walk right into it, or else you're just as stupid as everyone says you are!"

xxx

"What the fuck is he doing?" Shirley practically shrieks.

The second link had come in shortly after she and Louisa got back to Slough. They hadn't gotten much from the police, and Roddy apparently hadn't had much luck either. Now, though, there's a live-feed for him to trace. A live feed of River acting like a complete fucking idiot.

"Does he honestly think we don't know it's a trap?" Louisa says, both hands gripping at the sides of her head, eyes wide. She wants to reach through the screen and cover River's stupid mouth.

"You should not have fucking done that," the man in the video says. The knife he'd used to cut open River's pant-leg is back in his hand.

Louisa can see what's coming, but that doesn't stop her from letting out a small cry when the man drives the knife into River's gut.

"Oh, fuck!" Roddy says, eyes wide, his fingers freezing over his keyboard as he stares at the screen.

"Roddy, focus!" Shirley snaps.

"Right." Roddy looks back at the monitor that doesn't have the video on it and he starts typing again, hands flying over the keys.

Louisa's heart is pounding, fear and anger mixing as she watches the man pull the knife back out. Their timeline for finding him and staging a rescue has just gotten significantly shorter.

"How long before he bleeds to death, d'you think?" Shirley asks, and there's none of the usual sarcasm in her voice, just a hollowness. Her face is pale. Then she says, voice sharpening, "Where the fuck are you going?"

Coe, already halfway out of the office, keeps moving, not looking back. Shirley glares.

"Hey!"

"Leave 'im," Lamb says, putting an arm up to block the doorway. "Ho, update."

"I've almost got it."

"Good," Louisa says. "We need to get him out of there."

Lamb raises an eyebrow at her. "Are you forgetting the part where it's a trap? We need to be smart about this. I know that isn't exactly everyone's forte, or you wouldn't be here, but I'm going to need you all to try and use your brains."

The anger that roils in Louisa's gut makes its way to her mouth, and it's moving before she can stop it.

"Can you not just take something fucking seriously for once?"

Something flickers across Lamb's expression and his eyes twitch slightly. "I am taking this seriously. That's one of my agents. And if he dies, then the people who did it are going to have hell to pay. But what do you think happens if we just charge in there, guns blazing, the way these aresholes obviously want us to? In all likelihood Cartwright will still die, and the rest of us with him. Where's the good in that?"

Louisa takes a deep breath, chewing the inside of her cheek. "You're right."

"Of course I'm right. Are you going to be able to do this? 'Cus right now you're looking like a fucking liability."

"I've got it," Louisa says. She doesn't know if that's actually true, but she can't be left behind while they go to save River. "I'm good. Sorry."

Before Lamb has the chance to respond, Roddy claps his hands together, then throws both arms up in the air, spinning around in his chair to face them.

"I found him."

xxx

This is bad. Obviously it's bad, being stabbed is bad. But somehow, against all odds, it's given River a sort of second wind. Adrenaline is coursing through him, dulling the pain to something near acceptable levels. He knows it won't last long, knows it's only a matter of time – maybe only minutes – before the blood loss starts slowing his thoughts again.

The man throws some more threats around, a bit more gesturing, and then he leaves. River waits until he hears the door close and lock behind him before looking up at the blinking red light.

"I think you guys can hear me," he says. "And I just – I want to say, it's alright. Whatever happens, it's...I don't blame you. I said to keep away and I meant it. But, uh...Just in case, I'm – I'm gonna stay awake as long as I can."

He lets out a brief, breathy laugh that's completely devoid of humor and shakes his head. It feels odd speaking to an empty room, and frankly kind of stupid. "Fucking ridiculous..." he murmurs. He looks back up. And he keeps talking because, somehow, it makes him feel a little less alone.

(He doesn't want to die alone.)

He doesn't talk about anything in particular, at first. He talks about the dinner he wanted to cook this week, and about the OB's garden. He talks about getting chased by dogs in France, and how even though they were barking like they wanted to tear his limbs off, he still prefers them to the Dogs. That makes him think of Duffy, and he comments on the fact that he still wonders where that missing diamond got off to.

He talks until he feels the cold start to settle in, and tingling in his hands and feet. He's getting light-headed too. Bad signs. He knows that. Fuck.

"Uh...Not sure how much longer I'll be able to stay awake," he says. He blinks heavily. "Maybe-maybe don't call my mum this time? Until you're, like, positive...And if someone could go visit my granddad a few times a week, that would be..." He blinks back tears, swallowing the lump that rises in his throat. "Maybe Catherine? She was good with him."

Being outlived by the OB. That's not something he'd ever imagined, especially not with how his granddad's health has been recently.

"He'll be confused. So make sure – make sure he knows he didn't kill me." There's darkness crowding the edges of his vision, and his ears are starting to ring. When he speaks again, his own voice sounds foreign to him.

"And make sure you find who did this."

It's the last thing he says before he slips into unconsciousness.

xxx to be continued...

[toomuchracket]

clothes shopping with office nerd Matty <3 where girlie maybe suggests he wears something more… fitted since he is usually wearing more baggy clothing I think right? And he gets all embarrassed and cute you’re telling him how good he looks when he comes out of the dressing room!

perhaps a little shopping trip before you first go on holiday together, maybe to cover a festival abroad?? and he's very patiently sat through you trying on armfuls of clothes and earnestly told you that you look beautiful in anything (although you can tell from the way his jaw drops or eyes widen which outfits are his favourites teehee), and now it's your turn. matty being matty, you think he looks cute in everything, but he's still shopping out of habit and picking out hoodies and sweatshirts and whatnot; you're like "baby, not that i don't love your hoodie collection and i support adding to it, but... you're seriously telling me you're taking a fleece-lined hoodie to spain in june to wear to a festival? come on", and he sighs like "alright. help me pick stuff, then". so you go and grab some weather-appropriate clothes you think he'll like, he picks some too, and you wait excitedly outside the dressing room while he tries them on. and he looks so fucking GOOD - it's all t-shirts that cling to his arms deliciously, or shirts like the glasto one where his tattoos are visible, and you're totally fucking obsessed. i mean, like, legs-swinging heart-clutching soft-gasping obsessed, like "baby, you look SO hot. like genuinely incredible. my god", and matty goes pink and rolls his eyes and scoffs like "oh, stop it, darling. i do like the shirt, though, s'cool. literally. but i think you're exaggerating". mind you, i think he's got a teensy bit of stubble at this point just because, and the whole look is really really sexy, so you're DEFINITELY not exaggerating; you go up to him and manoeuvre him into looking in the mirror with you behind him, and you're like running your hands along his arms and down his stomach smoothing out the material like "look at yourself, gorgeous. you can't deny that you look good. really good", and matty's like "hmm ok yeah it does fit me quite well you're right". he kisses your head and smirks at you in the mirror like "this better be the reaction i get every time i wear this, you feeling me up like that", and you're like "well, put it back on when we get home and my reaction will be even better, baby". needless to say, mans is Running to the till with everything as soon as you say that lol. but yeah! matty always gets a bit shy when you first compliment his outfit/look, but then when he starts to believe you he gets a little bit cocky with it and it's really fucking hot lol. you guys have such a good dynamic like you just fancy each other so much lmao. dreamy <3

[thefirstradiant]

Suptober Day 1: Autumn

To Camp, Or Not To Camp

🍂 Destiel 🍂 Rating Explicit. Written for #suptober24 prompt: autumn and kinktober kinks: exhibitionism (slight), smell, dirty talk, and come-sharing.

Words: ~2k. This was supposed to be a 500 word drabble, alas.

Dean finds a way to make camping much more pleasurable. Enjoy. It’s mostly smut but fluffy.

A/N: I neverrr write old domestic destiel so this was fun. I also tried some new things with the voicing and character pov. (It’s because I got too into Dean’s head whoops.)

So many leaves. All sorts of colors, Dean notices. Red, green, orange, yellow, even some tinged purple. He never used to notice the leaves. Or care what color they were. He scoffs at himself. What an idiot. The leaves meant seasons, and seasons meant time. He had always been vaguely aware of the seasons changing, but they were never marked, as they are now, by birthdays and parties, holiday meals and school festivals, and, regretfully, camping trips.

Ugh. He crunches through some more leaves. Cas’s attempt to turn camping from a distaste to an “enjoyable family adventure” has had mixed success. This forest is really nice, however. That’s definitely a win. He has a better idea of how to spend their time in it though.

Dean looks up and meets Cas’s eyes. So warm and blue. The crinkles in the corners come out to play as he smiles at Dean. Ah, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to always see that. Cas looks so fucking perfect in his soft green sweater and khaki pants. I bought him that sweater on a whim, didn’t I?

“Dean?” Cas’s voice is deep, buttery smooth, and curious.

Dean blinks. Oh yeah, I had a plan. It’s so easy to get lost in Cas, even now. His fist starts to clench and he keeps raking his eyes across his partner. I want to see those eyes shot black, that mouth hanging open, breathing heavily, that sweet and dangerous little face coated in- Woah. Start at the beginning.

Dean smirks. “You know, Cas… we’ve been The Great Outdoorsing this shit for a week now.” A pause. “It’s our last night kicking around in this locally-sourced lumber yard…”

There’s a beat of amusement flicking around in Cas’s eyes, even as he ducks his head and comes a few steps closer to Dean.

“Really, Dean? Your best line? I married you, don’t you think I’ve heard it enough?” But he’s smiling with his eyes too, and Dean knows he’s got him. Hook, line, and sinker. Every damn time.

“Not if it still works.” They’re close now and Dean’s hand reaches out to trail along Cas’s soft, sleeved arm. He’s knows he’s grinning too wide for it to resemble anything close to a sultry line, but he doesn’t care.

“We’re here with our son.” Cas breathes onto Dean’s cheek. He’s pressing against Dean all the same.

“Who’s back at camp! Why do you think I told Jack we were getting in one last nice long hike?”

If Cas really wanted to make him like camping for the sake of camping, it was a lost cause. But this? He could see himself making arrangements to camp again. Though maybe we leave the exhibitionist kink at home in the drawer next time. Ironic.

Their boots have stopped crackling the leaves now, and Dean’s hands wander to the small of Cas’s back and his hip joint, just to squeeze and pull him even closer.

Cas had been mostly just smiling softly as Dean caressed him, but as Dean pulls their hips together, he lets out a delightful groan. That’s the crack Dean knows he’s addicted to, right there.

Cas brings his hand up to stroke the side of Dean’s neck. “Mmm. You will always work on me, Dean. It’s not the line.”

Even though he can feel his heart doing little somersaults, he whispers into Cas’s ear as a reply.

“I know.”

They’re fully wrapped up in each other’s bodies when Cas finally tilts and captures Dean’s lips. Ah. His arms slung around my neck, his chest so full of warmth against mine. That searing kiss that makes everything feel right in the world. Flawless.

“Are we far enough away? You are.. not quiet.” Cas mumbles into Dean’s mouth.

Now that’s not exactly fair, is it? Cas is quite loud too. Dean scoffs.

“I can be quiet when I need to be!”

I know I’m loud, so what? When you have this angel giving you wicked pleasure, you better be damn loud too. He kisses Cas again, melding their lips together in drool and tongue.

Trying some more of that great great honesty he’s been working on, he whines “Cmon Cas, you know I hate camping.”

Please Cas help me block out all the bad stuff.

Cas looks tousled and like a 3 course dessert as he breaks apart from Dean and chuckles, low and throaty.

“That’s an even worse line.”

Cas is already dropping to his knees in the dirt however, and dragging a hand down Dean’s chest and stomach. He leans in and presses a kiss to Dean’s straining cock inside his pants.

Dean feels that in his toes. He moans.

“Baby, you’re an angel, you’re supposed to find my pickup lines endearing or some crap.”

He doesn’t know if that’s at all true, but it sounds like something angels should think.

Cas doesn’t reply but smiles again and pinches Dean’s side just above his hip. Cas is usually more quiet when they’re together, he seems to prefer to let his body and expressions do the talking for him. Of course, that means whenever he does say something, it’s too hot for Dean to handle.

He’s working at Dean’s belt now and gliding his boxers down his hips. They drag ever so slowly along his cock and are replaced by the chill in the air.

Dean sucks in a breath. His pulse is pounding in his ears and the heat and cold are settling down into overall good sensations. Mmmm. Cas’s hands found my ass, that was quick.

Dean watches as Cas presses his whole face, mouth open, into the tangled curls he just exposed, and breathes in deeply. His pink tongue is out like he’s tasting the air too. Cas moans and it shoots straight to Dean’s cock.

Cas allows himself a word. “Sweaty.” he grunts out while trying to bury his face even farther into Dean.

The kinky son of a bitch is into it, I knew he would be. I mean, I have washed in the creek by camp a few times since we’ve been out here, but it has been a week. He probably smells extra Dean.

“Dean, you smell so good.” Cas looks up at him with those sparkling eyes and lips hanging open. “Delicious.” He licks the tip of Dean’s cock where a small bead of pre come was forming.

Dean can’t help it, he lets out a loud moan. He can hear his voice much deeper than before. “Goddamnit Cas, that’s hot as hell.”

Smirking, because of course he is, Cas is a huge tease, he licks his own lips and swallows Dean’s cock down most of the way.

Oh god. It’s burning hot and so so smooth. Dean feels his shoulders tense and toes clutch. He’s gasping suddenly.

“Wait-“ Need something to- Ah yes. Dean steps backward a bit to lean on a sap-coated tree trunk. Oh well. Who cares about that when Cas is shuffling forward on his knees to sink his mouth right back on Dean’s cock. He hums contentedly around him and Dean’s definitely grateful for the tree.

His hands are holding me really still. Hot. And that mouth- well, that’s an insane amount of drool. He can feel the zigzags Cas is making on the bottom of his cock as he sucks him down. He knows he’s getting louder, can hear the air fill with grunts, gasps, and moans at every new movement Cas makes. He also knows Cas loves his noises.

“Dean. Yes.” Cas says to the head of his cock.

Dean sinks himself back against the tree again and makes eye contact with his Cas. His lips pink and wet, dripping drool and pre come everywhere. His eyes already a little teary from blowing Dean.

He groans. “Fuck, Cas. Your lips are so fucking hot like that. Drooling and stretched on my cock..” Cas loves the dirty talk, he knows. Mm. I do too, when it gets that look in his eyes in response.

Cas continues his sucking long and deep while his eyes are locked on Dean’s. Hands move from his ass to hips to trailing underneath his grey t-shirt on his stomach. The warmth is so good and Dean just wants Cas everywhere.

Ah- right there. Cas is licking around the head of Dean’s cock and pulling out all his tricks to make him buck his hips out and down his throat. I can feel it right in the small of my back.. Ugh. The pressure is getting stronger. He gives one particularly solid suck and my hips jolt.

“Yes! Cas! Ah-“ He’s shouting now and his hands fly to Cas’s soft hair and tangle in it while he holds his mouth in place. Cas’s eyes water as his other hand, the one not caressing Dean’s stomach, makes it’s way down to Dean’s balls. Slowly, Cas rolls them in his wet fingers and he hums again where he can’t move on Dean’s cock.

Dean is definitely not quiet as he blurts out his next thought. “Angel, I’m gonna come all over that pretty fucking face of yours.”

Using Dean’s hand on the back of his head, Cas angles himself slightly and glides all the way down until his nose is again pressed into those messy curls. He’s smelling again, I can tell. My god. My cock is all the way fucking down his tight throat and he’s smelling me again.

Cas is looking up at Dean expectantly and he feels his balls tighten between Cas’s nimble fingers and that ball of pressure in his back melt down. He shouts wordlessly and he’s coming down Cas’s throat. Quickly he pulls off so he can shoot most of the load right onto Cas. That’s definitely one of my favorite sights. Cas answers my next groan with a soft breath and puff of air.

There’s come in his mouth, on his upper lip, in his eyebrow, the slope of his cheekbone, even a little on his ear. Beautiful. Cas smiles and it crinkles his eyes and he licks out to get a drop on his lips.

“Mmm. Delicious, Dean.” He says again. His voice is so deep and scratchy it thumps in my brain.

Dean chuckles breathlessly and sags against where he’s still trying to stay standing. Need him closer.

“C’mere” he says as he tries to pull Cas up, not sure if the crunching he hears is the leaves or his knees.

Hard to think- Hard to move- But as his angel’s face comes within reach he puts his mouth to the come-splattered cheek and starts licking it all up. His tongue flicks in his eyebrow and eyelashes and Cas is staring at him with adoration shining from every part of him. Of course, Cas has a thing for my come too.

It’s tangy, a bit more salty than usual today, but not bad, and Dean holds it under his tongue while he licks the last drop off Cas’s ear. He feels him shiver, then he kisses Cas fiercely. Gotta show him how good he was. How he made me come all of this.

Dean’s hands are grabbing Cas’s face now and he passes him the thick come. Cas moans obscenely, louder than Dean, and swallows as much as he can get. They keep kissing for at least a few minutes while they try to figure out where one of them begins and the other starts.

He’s so perfect. And he’s mine. Dean smiles into the kiss.

The wind is whistling in his ears again and drags to them a very faint shout from the direction of camp. “Dad?”

They break off the kiss slowly, with a trail of drool connecting them. Dean stands loose, panting in Cas’s mouth.

“Damn kids.”

Cas licks his lips and chuckles. “It’s okay, Dean.” He pats Dean’s chest with those strong hands of his.

“Compose yourself and let’s go back.” What a tease.

Mmm. One last moment. They’re still alone for now. Dean pulls Cas’s face to his and whispers into his ear.

“When we get home, I’m gonna fuck you through the mattress so hard you won’t remember which way is up. Then I’ll drag you up and do the same against the wall instead…”

The open mouth and black shot through Cas’s eyes is so worth it. Dean grins and pulls up his pants. Perfect.

FIN

[hannahssimblr]

Before I wake up, I hear buzzing in my dreams. I’m standing ankle deep in water in my back garden. Clontarf. It’s green and filled with algae so viscous that I cannot see the bottom, and there are crocodiles. I don’t see them, but I know they’re in there, lurking, waiting for the chance to lunge at me and have my left leg like a chicken drumstick. It all makes sense in the dream. My phone is buzzing. Why do I have my phone with me? Who is ringing me when there are crocodiles in my garden? 

“Mmph!” Jen tosses yesterday’s vest across the tent at me, and it startles me awake. 

“What?”

“Your phone. Your alarm or something. It’s going off.”

“I don’t have an alarm.”

“Uh, well, then it's ringing.” She yanks the covers over her ear and settles back to sleep. 

I press the green button. “Yeah?”

“Hello!” the voice on the other end is loud, cheerful. Too cheerful for- I check the time on the screen, -ten minutes past six in the morning. 

“Huh?”

“Have I woken you up?”

“...it’s fairly early.”

“Oh, sorry. It is already after seven where I am.”

I sigh and sit up, noticing all the places where my body hurts. “Who's this?”

“Jonas!” He says, “Jonas Osterhausen? Remember? We have been emailing?”

“Oh… yeah, yeah, of course. How are you doing, man?”

“Good, thank you. I was wondering if you received my most recent email. I haven’t heard from you.”

“Um, no, when did you send it?”

“Friday afternoon.”

“Right, well, I’m actually at a festival. I haven’t had internet access. Are you- is everything ok?”

“Yes, I was just once again checking about the deposit. My cousin is at the moment looking for a room, and he is ready to pay now, so I thought that if you had changed your mind-”

“No.” I say, “No, no, I still want it. I’m sorry I haven’t sent the money, but I’m actually selling my car next week. There’s a buyer. I just need to get back to Dublin to do it. Don’t worry, I’m coming back from my holidays on, like, Wednesday, I think. If you could hold off giving the room to your cousin, I…”

Jonas is chuckling, “Yeah, dude, it’s cool. I’ll keep the room for you.”

“Thank you.”

“Okay, enjoy your festival. It was nice to talk to you over the phone like this. You’re much different when speaking English.”

I rub my eyes. “Yeah?”

“Your German is pretty bad, man.” The line goes dead midway through his belly laugh. 

The sleeping bag crinkles as Jen turns over to regard me. Yesterday’s makeup smudged, black and blue and glittery, down her face. “Was that your new housemate?”

“Yeah.”

A pause. “So you’re actually going.”

“Of course.”

I can’t read her expression. “Oh, right.”

“You knew that.”

“Yeah, I just thought… never mind.” She flips over, settling back in with a yawn. “Did you kiss Evie, by the way?”

I haven't forgotten what I did. Accompanying the memory is a strange, gnawing feeling in my guts, like I have done something irreversibly fucked up. “Maybe.” I say.

“Oh, dear.”

“How’d you know?”

“When we met you two at the market, you just looked like you’d been kissing. I can’t explain it, but you had those mad, black pupils.”

“Maybe we were doing MD.”

“You weren’t.”

“Okay, well, whatever.” I plonk back down onto my sleeping bag and shut my eyes against the rising sun, glowing through the walls of flimsy nylon. But just as I am drifting off, I hear her stir again. 

“Tell me what it was like.” She whispers. 

“It was fine. None of your business.”

“Right. I was just asking because-”

“Go back to sleep, Jenny.”

“No, like, because I just needed-”

“Shh! Sleeping.”

“Fine, fine. I’ll talk to you later,” she huffs. "Remind me."

And we try our best to sleep for a few precious hours, before the campsite comes to life around us once again and another day begins.

Beginning // Prev // Next

[brainddeadd]

Ummm mayhaps a request:

In honor of the lovely matching costumes of Matt and Jonathan (srsly had me crying from laughter), perhaps a Halloween party where reader goes as the snowman from Elf and it makes Matt happy

Or idk something along the lines of distracting Matt from the injury he got while they're with the others 🥹

Halloween Party 2024 no. 2

ngl i read this as a baby devil request im so sorry

so this is like some kinda weird ass joint ranger-devils demon party with them not dating

i hope you enjoy even though i royally fucked up

The arena was buzzing with energy as players and staff mingled at the Halloween party. Y/N walked in, beaming in her Snowman costume, complete with a fluffy white outfit, a bright orange carrot nose, and a jaunty top hat perched on her head. She felt cute and ready to enjoy the festivities, blissfully unaware that her costume would soon lead to an unexpected connection.

As she navigated through the throngs of costumed teammates, she caught sight of Matt Rempe and Jonathan Quick across the room. They were an amusing sight: Matt was decked out as Papa Elf, his tall frame enveloped in a cozy red and green outfit, complete with a fuzzy hat and a fake beard. Jonathan, beside him, was the embodiment of Buddy the Elf, with his green and yellow ensemble, complete with a giant smile and an almost contagious enthusiasm.

Y/N couldn’t help but chuckle as she approached them, catching the end of their playful antics. “Hey, you two! What’s with the get-up?” she called out, crossing her arms and pretending to scold them.

Matt turned, and his face lit up with a grin. “Well, if it isn’t the cutest snowman in the room! Jonathan and I thought we’d bring a little holiday cheer to Halloween. What about you? Did you plan to match us?”

“Match? I had no idea you guys were going as elves!” Y/N laughed, looking down at her fluffy costume. “But hey, snowmen and elves make a pretty good team, right?”

“Absolutely!” Jonathan chimed in, doing a little dance. “Snowman, Elf, and even a little Christmas spirit in October—what could go wrong?”

Y/N rolled her eyes playfully, but deep down, she felt a warm flutter at being part of the fun. “I think it’s just a little too early for Christmas cheer, but I’ll take it. You guys look ridiculous!”

“Ridiculously festive, thank you very much,” Matt replied, his voice dripping with mock seriousness. “Now, come join us! We need our snowman to help us spread the holiday joy!”

Y/N joined them, and as they made their way through the party, they turned heads and elicited laughter from their teammates. Jack Hughes, dressed as a superhero, spotted them and raised an eyebrow. “What is this? A holiday movie or a Halloween party?”

“Why not both?” Matt called back, clearly enjoying the attention. “We’re here to bring cheer to the chaos!”

As they approached the snack table, Matt leaned closer to Y/N, a teasing glint in his eye. “You know, Snowman, you really complete our little holiday trio. We could start a new Halloween tradition.”

“Oh yeah? What would that be?” Y/N replied, trying to keep her tone light, though her heart raced a little at the prospect.

“Dressing up as our favorite winter characters and spreading joy wherever we go,” Jonathan added with a grin. “I can see it now: the Snowman, Buddy, and Papa Elf bringing laughter to every party!”

Y/N laughed, feeling a warm blush creep up her cheeks. “I’m not sure I’m ready for that kind of commitment. But I’m definitely down for some festive fun tonight!”

As the three of them grabbed snacks and laughed at the absurdity of their matching costumes, the camaraderie felt easy and natural. Matt leaned over, snagging a cookie off the table while looking at Y/N. “You know, for someone who’s supposed to be a snowman, you’ve got a fiery spirit.”

She raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at her lips. “Is that your way of saying I’m more like a fire hazard than a snowman?”

“Maybe just a little,” he quipped back, winking.

Just then, the rest of the Devils’ crew, including Jack, Nico, Luke, and Dawson, approached, each of them laughing and shaking their heads at the sight of the trio.

“What a sight!” Jack said, clearly amused. “The snowman with two elves? Didn’t think I’d see that today.”

“Yeah, but we didn’t plan this! It’s all coincidence,” Y/N defended, laughing along with the boys.

“Coincidence or not, you all look like you belong in a Christmas special,” Dawson teased, nudging Matt with his elbow. “And don’t think we’ll let you live it down anytime soon!”

As the playful banter continued, Y/N felt the warmth of friendship enveloping her. The boys’ protective nature shone through as they rallied around her, ensuring she felt included and cherished. Matt's presence was comforting, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that their connection was deepening, even if it was just as friends for now.

As the party carried on, the group moved toward the dance floor, Y/N sandwiched between Matt and Jonathan, feeling the excitement and joy of Halloween, but also the promise of something more on the horizon.

“Alright, let’s show these folks how the Snowman and the Elves can party!” Matt declared, and Y/N couldn’t help but grin widely.

“Let’s do it!” she shouted, ready to embrace the night, the laughter, and whatever came next.

[suusoh]

Can i request Anna with the prompt: “Your mother wants us to come down for Christmas.” Something about little miss unhinged and cosplaying normality (or failing to) scratches my brain

(LITTLE MISS UNHINGED IM HOLLERINGGG. THAT IS HER OFFICIAL NICKNAME NOW ANON. BLESS. Also this got surprisingly long.)

(tw: yandere, physical threats, threats of bodily mutilation (not at reader), yeah... Anna isn't really the best here.)

"Because she still thinks we're together."

You hiss at her, strong venom evident in your voice. She's unbelievable. You grab the pillow beside you and hug it tightly to your body out of frustration.

Anna remains unfazed though, humming faintly and calmly swinging side to side, dancing to her own little made up tune, while looking at the closet mirror in front of her. She's holding up two dresses by their hanger, draping one across her body and getting a good look before switching to the other.

"We are together, baby. Who said otherwise?"

"I did," you instantly reply, quickly shooting her a glare. "—before you held a fucking pen to my throat."

She continues looking at the closet mirror in front of her, switching back and forth between the two dresses: one blue and one black, ruminating on which one looks better. Still focused on her own little task at hand than paying any mind to your scornful remarks.

She lets out a soft sigh, but it has no actual exasperation in it.

"And I told you that it was in the moment; you're seriously not gonna let me live that down?"

—She quickly catches the hairbrush you throw at her. A loud smack emitting as the brush hits the fleshy meat of her palm. Reflexes effortlessly saving her face from an ugly bruise.After a few seconds, she gently puts the brush down on the table beside her and wordlessly looks down at her hand, the skin slowly reddening in color.

"hm. nice throw."

Anna practically beams at you. Her genuinely proud expression clearing all doubts in your mind about the sincerity of her praise.

"Seriously babe... where was this energy when we went on our carnival dates? Do you know how many rigged games I had to win, or how many fights with a carnie worker, to get you some fluffy toy—"

She continues on her mini rant. Nonchalantly brushing off your little stunt, finding it as nothing but endearing, as she returns to handling her own important dress dilemma before the mirror.

You'd think she was hiding her disappointment, or rage, or whatever normal emotion one should be feeling right now. But oh no no no, she just finds your attempt at hurting her fucking adorable. Fuck. Her.

Fuck her, and her fucking smile, and her fucking cooing, and her fucking keeping you with her in this insane toxic fucking relationship, and her fucking—

"Ah ah ah... don't frown too much, sweetie. You knooow I don't like seeing you sad," A small pout on her face, teasingly playing along with your display.

"Now come on," she tuts lightly. "I need you to help me out here! Which one's better, the blue or the black one? Black is classy, but maybe it's not festive enough for the holidays."

"I'm not your fucking girlfriend Anna." you try to remind her again, half in anger and half in desperation to stop whatever this is.

"Of course you are~~" she sing-songs.

"And you will always be my beloved girlfriend; rest assured, I'll love you forever. Unless, of course, you want to upgrade from girlfriend to wife? I can arrange that."

"You tried to kill me."

You clutch on the sheets of the bed you're sitting on. Bitter memories of you breaking up, or... trying to break up with Anna that night coming back. The effortlessness of her grabbing the pen on the table and hovering it above the artery in your neck, paralyzing you. The ease at which she just easily thought about harming you like that still keeps you awake at night. Does your life and safety mean that little to her?

"I don't try to kill people; I do kill people. Give me some credit here, sweetheart."

She half-heartedly roll her eyes at you. Turning her body around to face you for a moment. "So, no. I didn't try to kill you. I was just keeping you in place for a bit."

When she faces you, her eyes begin to soften instantly just at the sight of you all curled up on the bed, using a pillow to shield yourself, chest filling with aching affection as a warm smile spreads across her face.

Oh, her sweet angel... she can't help but coo at you a little.

"You really thought I was gonna take your life, huh? Come on darling, I know I'm scary, but I'm not that scary. I hold nothing but love for you (name), and you should know that...."

"No," you scoff. "You're delusional if you think we're just gonna walk up there, happily wine and dine with you by my side, and pretend I'm fine in front of my family." you retort. You don't know why you keep egging at her like this, but you are not letting her get away with whatever fantasy playing in her head right now.

Anna stays silent for a second.

She blinks. Once, twice.

Slowly, she turns around again, facing the closet mirror. Neutral smile as always, but this time not really reaching her eyes.

She shrugs softly.

"I mean, it's up to you, really."

Her voice light and sweet as ever, but there's a certain the lack of playfulness in her response. The subtle shift in demeanor sends something up your spine, making you suddenly straighten yourself and sit upright on the bed, commanding your attention now.

"I just don't think your mother would appreciate coming here to our place for Christmas dinner... or the rest of your family either, for that matter."

Your brow slightly creases.

You know that she likes to keep up a sense of ease and lightheartedness in this "relationship" with you; you wonder if she really would have the leniency to let your family or other friends come over for the sake of playing normalcy with her.

But that's not what makes the uneasy pit in your stomach begin to form. Countless thoughts running at a mile a minute trying to predict where she's going with this.

"W-Why do you think that?"

You cringe internally at your stutter, pouring all hopes of looking unaffected in front of her down the drain.

"Hmm..."

She continues choosing between outfits... or at least pretending to. Mechanical movements a sharp contrast to her relaxed demeanor a while ago. The pit inside you getting queasier.

"I think... our dining table is too small, no? I doubt they're all gonna fit, everyone's gonna squeeze against each other..."

Honeyed voice drawing out her concern. She focuses intensely on your reflection in the mirror, gazing at your little rigid form on the edge of the bed. Watchful eyes taking in every single movement of your face and body, eyeing your every expression, no matter how small or subtle. Drinking it all in.

"...But no worries, I can make them fit."

She smiles gently.

"It's easy to create a lot of space when you remove some of their limbs."

silence.

You blink.

Then you stare at her.

Your eyes slowly move out of it's frozen state and then pick up the pace to being searching frantically.

You don't even know what you're searching for but you'll take anything at this point: twitching, flinching, smiling, something to give away that she's joking with that statement and in no way actually intently meaning to do something as horrific and sick as... as- as-

Oh god.

You feel the air get crushed violently out of your lungs, and suddenly you can't breathe.

Throat choking up and cutting off all your attempts to inhale properly. Sounds of your own shallow gasps reaching your ears and reverberating through your skull. The uneasy pit that started forming finally bursting inside the walls of your stomach. You quickly cover your mouth to stop whatever threatens to retch out.

Don't throw up, don't, don't don't, oh god- oh fuck. You coach yourself as you can feel your body start to heave uncontrollably.

You can hear her softly pad her way to you, fingers placing themselves on your hunched-over form. Tenderly stroking your head in gentle comfort.

"So what's it gonna be, love?" soft voice making you feel worse than actually soothing you.

"We can have a nice little family Christmas where everything's fine and happy, and we visit as the loving couple that we are,"

She plays with a strand of your hair.

" —or are you going to have to spoon-feed mommy dearest yourself when she has no arms to hold onto anything?"

More intense sobs wrack throughout your body. She's disgusting for being able to even suggest something like that to you.

Your hands come up to aggressively rub the tears away until your eyes are all red and scratchy. The mixture of tears, snot, and drool dribbling down and wetting the fabric of your shirt into a mess.

"B-blue..." you hiccup. "blue... dress."

She smiles and tenderly plants a kiss on your head. Lips lingering for a few seconds, enjoying the feeling, as she quietly murmurs into your hair.

"I was thinking the same thing."