#me: that's a reference for elliot now | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

logaenhowlett · 1 month ago

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I THINK THEY CALL THIS LOVE - L.H.

Summary: A flat tire, a blinding snowstorm, and a mix-up leads you to Logan's cabin. Things happen after another, and before you know it, Christmas means being snowed in with a complete stranger.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female Reader

Warnings: 6.0k of pure fluff, Mutual pining (even Logan isn’t immune to cupid’s arrow), Sickeningly sweet slow burn, Major ‘just kiss already’ energy, How the Grinch Stole Christmas reference (pretend it exists in the 80s)

A/N: Can this happen to me please? And yes, it's inspired by The Holiday. Title creds to Elliot James Reay. Enjoy and happy holidays everyone, may your dreams be blessed with this beautiful man!

MASTERLIST

Nestled amidst snow-kissed pine trees, our cozy cabin offers a serene escape. Simply a perfect winter retreat overlooking breathtaking valleys and stunning mountain ranges, where you can unwind or explore our charming town just a short drive away.

Light cascades over his features, the glow harsh and bright as he squints at your phone, reading the brief description. Gusts of wind whip past as you wait expectantly, shifting your weight from one foot to another to keep warm.

"You got the wrong place," he says, peering out from behind the partially opened door.

Mouth agape, cold breaths misting in the chilly night air, you stare at him in disbelief. "This is the address they gave me," you reply desperately. It's a pointless attempt, you're not sure why you even bother trying. Clearly, you've ended up in the wrong place and arguing with this stranger won't change that.

"Well, they made a mistake, alright?" Brows creasing in mild annoyance, he leans forward, "S'my house. I live here.” The words hang in the air, heavy and final, punctuated by the squelch of your boots slightly sinking into the snow.

With a defeated sigh, you shuffle away from his front porch, the biting wind nipping at your exposed skin. Gloved fingers stiff from the cold, you fumble with the near-frozen handle of your car, the metallic hinges protesting as you wrench it open with a grunt. The thought of finding someplace to at least spend the night fills you with dread. Surely, scrambling at the last minute is bound to leave very few and certainly overpriced options.

Glancing back, you trace his figure silhouetted against the amber glow radiating from behind. "You wouldn't happen to know if there's a motel around, would you?" you ask, blinking tiredly against the glare.

"Closest one's 'bout an hour away." His expression remains unreadable, though, a flicker of something - perhaps sympathy - crosses his face. Just as you're sliding into the driver's seat, his voice cuts across the distance. "Hey - wait," he calls out, emerging from his house.

The collar of his flannel flaps from the breeze, and glimpses of the dark curls on his chest peek through the unbuttoned top. You wonder how the hell he's not shivering as he trudges through the snow, hands merely shoved deep into his pockets. He stops near your window, breath fogging up the glass as he looks at you hesitantly. "S'not safe to drive right now," he murmurs, weighing his next words, "Look, why don't you stay here tonight and figure somethin' out tomorrow?"

His offer takes you by surprise. The memory of his earlier dismissiveness stings, making the shift more jarring. Incoherent murmurs tumble from your throat, eyes widening at the thought of spending the night at this stranger's house. A ridiculously attractive stranger, but a stranger nonetheless. Sensing your unease, he sighs softly. "I get it, you don't know me. But, you're not gonna find anythin' this late anyway," he shrugs, taking a small step backwards, "S'up to you, just sayin'."

The rhythmic tapping of your fingers against the steering wheel echoes within the car. Doubt creeps into your mind as you study him, and eventually, the faint, encouraging smile he returns draws a shaky exhale. With a slight nod, you kill the engine.

Logan - as you learn shortly after - is a rather simple man. The interior of his cabin is minimal, almost sterile in nature and devoid of any personal touches. Yet, the warmth of the fireplace bathes the space in a cozy, inviting light. Scattered beer bottles and a couple of well-worn paperbacks lay on the coffee table, along with a radio humming a smooth jazz tune. A vague scent of pine lingers in the air, mingling with the smokiness of the aged wooden beams crisscrossing the ceiling. Shockingly, there isn't a single festive ornament in sight unlike the heavily decorated neighbourhoods you drove through to get here. And honestly, the longer you spend in his company, the more questions arise.

"Quiet night in, huh?" you note, trailing after him.

"Usually how it goes," he replies with a huff, the muscles of his back straining against his flannel as he wheels your suitcase towards the single door at the end of the hallway.

"Oh. I can sleep on the couch, you don’t need to–"

Despite your protests, Logan gestures inside, stepping back for you to enter. "Take the bed, I'll be out there." And there's absolutely no room for a debate; the set of his jaw and the determined glint in his eyes make that painstakingly clear. Still, he can't contain his amusement as you open your mouth again. "Don't fight me on this, alright?" he adds, fixing you with a pointed gaze.

You hold eye contact for a few seconds, the intensity slowly melting your resistance. Reluctantly, you nod and he flicks a switch, a soothing glow casts over the room. The bed, with its crisp white sheets and a pleasantly startling number of pillows, seems so comfy you almost sigh in relief. "If you need anythin', just ask," he continues, hand hovering over the knob.

The door creaks behind him as you call out his name. Pausing his motion, he turns around, eyeing you with patient curiosity. Now, in proper lighting, you spot the flecks of green in his eyes, the perfectly tousled waves of his hair, and the incredibly soft beard you suddenly want to stroke. "Thank you," you rasp, your voice inexplicably thick with surprise.

Logan nods once with a tight-lipped smile. "My pleasure," he whispers, bidding you good night. A beat of silence passes, then the muffled sound of his footsteps receding down the hallway. Grumbling in confusion, you slide under the covers, the blanket enveloping you in a much-needed embrace.

Today was a bad day.

A truly awful, no-good, very bad day. Last night, when you'd impulsively booked this getaway, the possibility of handling flat tires and battling harsh weather only to end up at the wrong place, all because of some mix-up never crossed your mind. It seemed like the perfect escape, a chance to relax and enjoy the Christmas cheer, a well-deserved break from the months of stress and the endless workdays. Unfortunately, luck - the heartless bastard - had other plans. Logan, however, managed to salvage your spirits, at least a little, with his unexpected goodwill.

So maybe, today was a slightly less bad day.

The smoke alarm is moments from a full-blown wail. Logan curses under his breath, beads of sweat trickling down his temple. He'd only wanted to make a simple stack of pancakes, yet the kitchen remains a travesty and the once-promising batter now a charred mess on the griddle.

It's all unchartered territory, having someone over, much less a complete stranger. Save for the rare visit from his lumberjack buddies, which involves more beer than conversation, or the neighbourly kindness of Diane, the elderly woman who regularly presses homemade meals into his hands in exchange for mending broken fences or leaky pipes, he's never had any real company. And so, he doesn't exactly know what compelled him to wake up earlier than usual and rummage through the sparsely stocked shelves to whip up something decent.

Tossing a quick, and almost furtive glance down the hallway, the steady cadence of your breathing filters through the bedroom walls. Logan shakes his head, resignation twisting his lips. Unimpressed with his terrible attempt, he scrapes the burnt food into the trash.

A restless energy thrums beneath his skin, his mind consumed by a nervous current since he'd made the impulsive offer last night. Moving through the cabin like a man possessed, he rearranges the perfectly stacked firewood, dusts the already pristine surfaces, and even opens the refrigerator for the fourth time only to stare blankly at its contents, having gained nothing but a momentary distraction. He's sure the carpet is dented from the sheer number of times he's paced the same worn track, each turn drawing him closer to the bedroom, then away again.

The quietness is deafening for a couple of hours until the soft thumping of your footsteps quirks his ears. Logan stops fiddling with the salt and pepper shakers, then straightens his posture to lean against the kitchen counter.

The fading smell of something wrinkles your nose. "I didn't sleep through a forest fire or anything, right?" you mumble, rubbing your eyes tiredly with the back of your hand.

His eyes involuntarily flick towards the stove, and for a fleeting moment, a sheepish smile touches his lips. "Don't worry 'bout it," he says a little too quickly, "Sleep well?" The steam from his coffee curls upwards as he takes a slow sip.

"I did, and thank you for letting me stay. You didn't have to do that." He nods in response, trying to downplay the gesture.

A charged silence stretches between you, crackling with unspoken thoughts and lingering awkwardness. There's a brief and almost hesitant exchange of glances before you speak at the same time.

"I should get going then–"

"There's a diner nearby–"

Stopping abruptly, a slightly embarrassed chuckle escapes your lips, mirroring the faint grin that tugs at the corners of his mouth. The shared laughter dissipates some of the tension and the atmosphere becomes almost comfortable. Only a second passes before Logan tries again, the words tumbling out a little faster than he intends. "There's a diner nearby if you're hungry."

He doesn't know why he just said that - the thought hadn't been consciously formed at all. Though he feels this strange pull, this unexpected urge to prolong the conversation, a subtle plea for you to stay. He eyes you with barely concealed anticipation, awaiting your reaction with bated breath.

"Okay, I have to ask. What's with the severe lack of Christmas decor?"

Logan watches you swirl the last of your milkshake, the metal spoon clinking against the glass. The diner's fluorescent lights, while unforgiving to most, seem to soften as they trace the delicate curve of your jawline, highlighting the pale flush of your cheeks courtesy of the winter air. Leaning back against the worn leather of the booth, a small smile spreads across his face as he considers your question. His gaze sweeps over the room, noting the strings of twinkling lights haphazardly draped around the tables, the paper snowflakes dangling from the ceiling and a rather lopsided Christmas tree tucked next to the jukebox.

"S'not really my thing," he admits, a faint shrug lifting his broad shoulders.

"Not even a little?" you tease, raising an eyebrow in disbelief.

The corners of his eyes crinkle in amusement, his smile widening just a fraction. "Never had a reason," he says with an almost offhand casualness. But the flicker of curiosity, or perhaps even the touch of concern, in your expression doesn't escape him. Logan catches the way your lips press together for a moment, a subtle sign of contemplation as you piece together the sparse details you'd gathered about him. Clearing his throat, he shifts slightly in his seat. "Why'd you pick this town?" he tries, changing the subject.

"It was the cheapest option. Or at least, in comparison."

He chuckles as you groan, "So this was all a spontaneous decision."

"Hey, it's my turn to ask!" you interject, raising a hand in mock protest.

"Wasn't a question," he retorts playfully.

Nearly two hours slip by with this back-and-forth, lighthearted volley of exchanges. The diner empties out slowly, the hectic energy subsiding into a quieter hum as the two of you settle into a pleasant rhythm, taking turns to ask questions. Most of them are silly, designed to elicit a laugh or a quick anecdote - but the tone shifts here and there, venturing into deeper waters. The laughter doesn't disappear entirely, but it's interspersed with moments of thoughtful silence and understanding.

"So, what do you actually do? You know, besides running this bed and breakfast thing?"

Shaking his head, Logan rolls his eyes at your joke. "Work down at the lumberyard just like the next guy 'round here," he says with a vague gesture. "And what do you actually do?" His voice mimicking the same teasing tone you'd used.

The slight downturn of your smile takes him aback. "Journalist." It comes out strained, almost clipped. "I cover a bit of everything - well, whatever my boss throws at me anyway." The last part is delivered with a small, forced chuckle and he can't help but notice the change in your demeanour, the way your shoulders stiffen or how your jaw tightens. And despite not being the cause of it, regret fills him immediately, a sharp pang of guilt that settles in his stomach.

"Sounds... rough."

"Exactly why I needed a break."

Logan understands, with a surprising clarity, that pity is the last thing you want. And so, he steers away from anything of that sort, discarding the sympathetic expression that involuntarily surfaces. "Too bad your plans went to shit, huh?" he offers bluntly, his eyes, however, soften in the slightest.

Something akin to gratefulness shines in your smile, "Tell me about it."

The diffused light of the morning sun seeps through the frosted panes of the bedroom window. You stir awake, still incredibly tired as the remnants of a restless night hover like a persistent fog. Logan's bed had generously provided warm company for hours as you scoured for new accommodations in the area. Of course, with the holiday season, the internet had proven a frustrating dead end, most places booked solid during this time of year. Sleeping in your car was starting to feel like the only option until you stumbled upon a listing for a small lodge on the outskirts of town that had become vacant due to a last-minute cancellation.

The relief had been immense, a great wave washing over you as you secured the reservation. But now, as you slowly surface from sleep, the memory of that frantic search lingers, a dull ache pressing behind your eyes. Stretching out your stiff limbs, you squint at the alarm clock on the bedside table, wincing slightly at the early hour. And despite exhaustion weighing you down, a sense of purpose pushes you out of bed.

The wheels of your suitcase rumble against the wooden floorboards as you emerge from the hallway. Logan stands by the large window, his back a dark silhouette against the stark white landscape beyond. His gaze locks onto yours instantly, a look of sympathy - tinged with wry amusement - softens his features. "Hate to break it to you, but–" he begins, gesturing outside with a tilt of his head.

"Wha– oh, you gotta be fucking kidding me!"

A thick layer of fresh snow blankets the ground. The pine trees, a deep green last night, now laden with a heavy dusting, branches drooping under the weight. The scene is undeniably perfect, picturesque even. But the beauty is utterly lost on you in that moment. Everything is covered with a pristine white expanse that stretches as far as the eye can see. And there's simply no way in hell you can step out without sinking knee-deep, much less move your car even an inch.

"Happened overnight," his voice calm against your rising irritation. "Weather guy said it'll last a few days." Logan senses your distress, the dejected slump of your posture drawing genuine concern. "Listen, don't worry 'bout stayin' here. I don't mind at all, okay?" His reassurance eases your worries by a fraction, the sincerity and sheer honesty in his tone dispelling any hesitation creeping in. "'m serious," he adds gently.

"Thank you... so much, Logan. Really," you manage, the words catching in your throat.

And you are. Deeply, and truly grateful. Your carefully laid plans once again derailed by something beyond your control. Yet, it could have been so much worse. Thanks to Logan's unwavering support, his willingness to welcome a stranger, you're not completely shelterless while the snowstorm continues. The idyllic Christmas getaway you envisioned withers into a distant mirage. But in this moment, surrounded by the warmth of his presence, this feels more than enough.

Hours pass as you drift into a well-deserved nap on the couch, the hushed murmur of the wind outside lulling you into a peaceful slumber. The quiet doesn't last. A sudden bang echoes through the cabin, jolting you awake. "The fuck–" you murmur, disoriented as you stand up. Frowning at the interruption, you pad towards the noise, and eventually, stop dead in your tracks. "Holy shit."

Snow dusts his hair and shoulders, clinging to the rough fabric of his denim jacket. Logan, cheeks flushed red from the cold, wrestles a decent-sized fir tree through the back door. And judging by his grunts, it's evidently too wide for the opening. "Good, you're up. Hold the door, would ya?" he grumbles, muscles flexing against its considerable weight as he inches it further and further inside.

Shock momentarily freezes you in place, but his request snaps you out of your stupor. Rushing forward, you push the door with all your strength, the hinges groaning as you force it open at an awkward angle. With a final, mighty heave and a muttered curse, he manages to carry it fully indoors.

"What... is this?" you ask bewildered. A flurry of snowflakes and pine needles spread onto the floor, the crisp scent of nature filling the space. It's a wild and untamed thing, the sight of it so random and yet, somewhat festive.

"S'clearly a tree."

He doesn't cower from your glare. "Yes, I know it's a tree. What's it doing in your living room?"

Logan pauses briefly, and you can’t quite decipher if the deepening flush on his cheeks is solely from the lingering chill or something else entirely. He avoids your direct gaze for a second. "Figured since you're stuck here, might as well decorate a little." A studied nonchalance masks his attitude as if lugging a six-foot tree into his cabin during a raging blizzard is the most normal thing in the world.

Stunned doesn't even begin to capture the whirlwind of emotions churning within. Logan had already opened his home to you, and now, he's gone to the trouble of dragging this laughably enormous tree inside, all in an effort to cheer you up. Something spreads through your chest in an almost overwhelming capacity and the air suddenly feels intimate. And expressing the full extent of your appreciation feels too vulnerable, so you deflect instead. "Thought it wasn't really your thing."

"Yeah well, 'm runnin' a bed and breakfast as you said. Gotta keep my only guest happy, right?" His smile nearly melts you. The effect immediate and surprisingly potent. One that speaks of pure kindness and his quiet, unassuming warmth. One that makes the absurdity of a giant tree propped in the middle of his living room not only reasonable, but somehow perfectly right.

"I'll make sure to leave a four-star rating."

"Four?"

"I know you burnt something yesterday."

The evening comes quickly and time flies, surprisingly so, as you and Logan get to decorating. The lack of traditional ornaments proves to be only a minor obstacle because with a little creativity, colourful ribbons from old packages become tinsel, pinecones transform into rustic baubles, and even a string of spare light bulbs is carefully wrapped around the branches.

A natural rhythm falls into place as you work. You talk about random things: childhood memories, neighbours, and his startling lack of Christmas movie knowledge - a revelation that elicits a gasp of mock horror. There are moments when you stand close, brushing fingertips as you reach for the same thing. A shared look lasts a fraction too long, a breath catches in quiet air before one of you shyly steps aside. And strangely, despite the unusual circumstances that brought you together, despite the fact that you're practically strangers, it feels easy.

Fuck.

The shovel bites into the heavy snow with a satisfying crunch, lifting a thick slab that Logan heaves to the side of Diane's driveway. Earlier, her voice, tinged with desperation, had come through the answering machine, asking if he could possibly clear the mess in exchange for a warm dinner. He'd readily agreed, a gesture so typical in weather like this. But, in the course of the call, he'd let slip that he wasn't alone. And Diane, ever the hospitable and nosy soul, immediately insisted that you join in too.

He keeps a steady and even pace, breath puffing out in small white clouds in the fresh afternoon air. The muscles in his arms and back strain beneath his jacket as he clears a path through the deep drifts. You stand nearby - supposedly helping - bundled in your warmest clothes.

He's about to tease you for your lack of contribution, the words practically forming on his lips, when something cold and wet hits the back of his neck. Whirling around sharply with a surprised expression, he finds you grinning. The evidence is clear: melting remains of a snowball cling to your gloved hands, while a few snowflakes adorn your hair, creating a delicate halo of white around your face. With a few quick swipes, the snow is brushed away, his gaze not straying from yours.

"Now that was a mistake, darlin'."

Before he can retaliate, you turn and bolt. It's a comical attempt at an escape, a sort of waddling run rather than a sprint. Within seconds, he gains distance and tackles you gently, sending you both tumbling into a soft pile of snow. Laughter bubbles up and then fades, leaving Logan staring down at you. Inches apart, noses almost touching. A strange energy hangs in the air, pulling him imperceptibly closer.

"You kids'll catch a cold playing in that!"

He huffs a laugh, the sound a little breathless, a little unsteady, before pushing himself up. "Don't worry Diane, 'm takin' real good care of her," he yells back, extending a hand towards you.

"I'm sure you are," she mutters to herself knowingly. "C'mon in, dinner's ready!"

The kitchen table groans under the weight of the food: a glistening roast chicken sits proudly in the center, surrounded by steaming bowls of creamy mashed potatoes, green beans and thick slices of homemade bread. Diane bustles around the table, refilling your plates, urging you to try the gravy, her face beaming with satisfaction.

She shifts her attention to you, asking about your life, your hobbies, your family. Logan catches himself staring more than once, a faint blush rising as he diverts his gaze to the food. But the pull is undeniable; his eyes keep returning, hooked as if by an invisible thread.

Dinner passes in a warm haze of hearty conversation and fond memories. "Is this your son?" you ask, carrying the dishes to the sink. A framed photograph rests on the bookshelf near the doorway. Light falls onto the glass, reflecting a gentle glow on the smiling faces within.

"Yes, my Charlie. Real sweetheart that boy, calls every week to check in. He works down in the city, busy as can be. I haven't seen him in... it must be nearly two years now." The lines around her eyes crinkle slightly as she dusts the picture. "But Logan's been a blessing, I tell you. Always there for me."

"Don't go spreadin' that 'round. Can't have people thinkin' I give out special treatment," he retorts playfully, leaning against the counter.

"Oh, I think everyone can see who you're sweet on."

Logan shifts slightly, his smile faltering at the comment. A redness creeps up his neck, betraying his composure as he steals a glance at your stunned expression. Clearing his throat a little rougher than normal, he turns abruptly to the front door. "Gonna get some firewood."

A gust of wind, sharp and sudden as a physical blow, smacks against him the moment he steps outside. He gathers a few logs, the rough bark scraping against his fingers, but his mind remains stubbornly elsewhere. As he retraces his steps to the front porch, the gentle lilt of Diane's voice filters through the walls: "Could you get the door, honey?"

The door swings inwards, and his breath hitches immediately. Suspended just inches above, dangling from a slender crimson ribbon, hangs a sprig of mistletoe, its pale berries gleaming. Your gaze follows his, an embarrassed chuckle slipping out. From somewhere behind, Diane hums, a sound that resonates with blatant intention. The weight of the firewood in his arms increases tenfold as he meets your eyes. He can’t quite decipher the expression in them – amusement, a hint of nervousness, and something else he can’t quite place. "You don't... have to–" he mumbles.

Then, your attention dips down to his lips, a fleeting glance that sends a jolt of electricity through his body, momentarily stilling his heartbeat. He feels frozen, every muscle taut, the firewood heavy and forgotten. But at the very last second, you turn your head and press a kiss to his cheek instead.

The cherry of his cigar burns a steady ember. He leans against the rough-hewn logs of his cabin wall, the wood pressing into his back. The ghost of your lips on his cheek persists, a phantom touch that caresses his skin long after you’ve moved away. Logan draws deeply on the cigar, the smoke winding upwards in wisps, obscuring the stars above. He's only known you for a few days. So how could this feeling, this unsettling, foreign tinge of exhilaration, possibly exist?

"Hey."

The single word, soft yet distinct in the quiet night, floats like a whispered secret. Darkness traces the lines of your face, casting delicate shadows that accentuate your features. "Hey."

"Aren't you cold?"

"Run pretty warm," he replies, smoke escaping his mouth as he takes another drag. "Sorry ‘bout Diane. She can get a little–"

"No. That's alright." With a slight, almost languid wave of your hand, you brush aside his apology. "She's quite fond of you," you whisper, accompanied by a subtle upturn of your lips.

Logan huffs lightly as the silence returns. The moonlight, filtered through the branches overhead, creates dappled patterns of light and shadow across the ground. “So,” he begins, his gaze locking onto yours, “this... everythin' you hoped for?”

"No." Your response is immediate. A small, genuine smile blossoms on your face at his reaction, sending a wave of unexpected warmth surging through his chest - a warmth that has nothing to do with the slowly burning cigar held loosely between his fingers. "It's better."

He fights hard to school his expression, to maintain a neutral facade, not wanting to reveal how much your simple happiness affects him. A furrow appears between your brows, and your lips part slightly as if you’re about to speak, then hesitate. "What're you thinkin'?" he asks gently.

"Work. I don't wanna go back," you confess. The heavy sigh that follows speaks volumes. "It's just... not what I thought it would be. It's not what I want anymore." The dejection in your voice is palpable, a sadness that makes him ache to reach out and offer comfort.

Logan sees the weariness etched on your face, the way your gaze drifts towards the dark silhouette of the distant mountains as if seeking solace in the vast landscape. "Then what's keepin' you there?" he wonders aloud, an instinctive pull bringing him a step closer.

You pause almost abruptly, the flow of conversation halting as if it hit an invisible wall. The soft vulnerability that had been present just moments before vanishes, replaced by a guardedness that makes him instantly regret his question. "I should get some rest."

“Wait–”

“Good night, Logan,” you mumble, the door clicking shut behind you.

Hi, Mr. Grinch!

Cindy Lou?! What are you doing up there?

I came to see you. No one should be alone on Christmas.

The scene plays along as you and Logan sit beside each other on the couch. He’d suggested the movie, feigning a sudden interest in Christmas classics. But you knew the real reason. The insistent buzz of work emails had been plaguing your phone all day, and he’d seen the way your eyes kept flicking down to the screen, the shadow of worry that clouded your features. This was his quiet way of offering respite - a gentle distraction.

The light from the television flashes across his profile, illuminating the strong line of his jaw and the curve of his lips. He seems completely absorbed by the movie, but a stillness in his posture tells you he’s not as engrossed as he pretends to be.

A wave of drowsiness washes over you, your eyelids fluttering closed and then snapping open again in a futile attempt to stay awake. But the warmth of the fire, the muted hum of the movie, and Logan's comforting presence prove too much to resist. Your head lolls to the side, almost of its own accord, finding a soft landing against his shoulder.

The sharp clatter of pots and pans colliding rouses you from sleep. Then, a savory blend of garlic, herbs, and something undeniably rich and tomatoey, wafts through the air. As you round the corner to investigate, your jaw drops.

There, stands Logan, putting the final touches on a scene that looks straight out of a romcom. A small, round table has been pulled away from the wall and positioned near the window. Candlelight dances on the polished wood surface, reflecting in the delicate glassware he’d clearly unearthed from some hidden corner of the cabin. Two steaming bowls of pasta sit on either side.

His head lifts as you appear, some kind of hopeful affection shimmering in his eyes much like the flames themselves. He quickly steps back from the table, as if caught in the act of some grand romantic gesture. The glow from your makeshift yet charmingly decorated Christmas tree in the living room spills into the kitchen. It’s all so carefully arranged, so thoughtfully put together, that it takes your breath away.

"What's all this?"

"Nothin' special... just thought it'd be nice. Christmas Eve n' all."

"I'm... impressed," you stammer nervously, but the sentiment feels inadequate on your tongue.

Logan ducks his head rather shyly - a small almost boyish action that flushes his rugged features. He then moves with a newfound purpose, reaching for the back of the chair closest to you and pulling it out in a smooth motion. And in that moment, there’s no world where you’d say no. The thought doesn’t even cross your mind.

The meal had been delicious, but it was the shared conversation, the easy laughter that truly filled you. "Maybe I'll have to bump you up to five stars."

"Hm, that so?"

"I said maybe."

He chuckles, holding your gaze for a beat longer before rising suddenly. Static bursts into the room as he fiddles with the radio, a brief, crackling intrusion before giving way to fragmented voices and snippets of music. He continues turning the dial until a slow melody emerges. Spinning around, Logan extends a hand towards you, his palm facing upwards in a clear invitation. "C'mon, trust me," he whispers.

Hesitantly, you grasp his fingers - his touch gentle and firm. As you draw closer, the scent of woodsmoke and his cologne crowd your lungs. The movement feels surprisingly natural as if you’ve danced a hundred times before.

"This is... the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me."

At your words, Logan’s hand tightens on your waist. The subtle change in his posture, the slight tilt of his head, the way his focus lies solely on you, steal any semblance of logic in your mind, replacing it with a dizzying rush of anticipation.

"Yeah? You deserve it," he murmurs back, his voice low and husky. "I like seein' you happy."

You make me happy. The words tremble on the tip of your tongue, daring to break free. The distance between your lips is almost nonexistent, a hair’s breadth separating you from the building tension. Time seems to slow, each second stretching into an eternity as you both lean in, the promise of a kiss hanging heavy in the air. You can almost taste him, a sweet ache swelling in your chest.

But the jarring tone of an emergency broadcast shatters the moment. “The severe snowstorm warning previously in effect for this region has now been lifted. A true Christmas miracle! Tomorrow will bring clear skies and–”

As you walk side-by-side along a beaten-down path through the mountains, the crisp breeze nipping at your cheeks, he steals glances at you, drinking in the sight of your joy. The moon paints the world in silver, mirroring the pure happiness that had been shining in your eyes. Logan had spent the day showing you around town: the local bakery, the family-owned bookstore. You’d even braved the icy air for a short walk along the frozen lake, nearly slipping until his quick reflexes caught you just in time.

He stops as the path opens up onto a breathtaking vista. The town below sprawls out like a miniature constellation, each house a tiny spark of light against the dark canvas of the valley. Strings of colourful lights crisscross the streets, weaving a tapestry of festive cheer. Logan watches you, a quiet satisfaction settling in his chest. He can see the awe etched on your face as you absorb all the details.

"What'd you think?"

"It's... beautiful," you exhale.

"Thought you'd like it." He shifts closer, subtle yet deliberate as his chest brushes lightly against your shoulder. A wildfire courses through his veins, temptation burning away his doubts. He’d wanted to kiss you - countless times. The impulse had been a constant undercurrent for days, a silent hum beneath the surface of every conversation, every shared look. Leaning in, breath warm against your ear, he whispers your name. "Tell me 'm not crazy. Tell me you don't want this and I'll stop."

"Cause darlin', 'm runnin' out of reasons why I shouldn't," he murmurs.

And then, you turn. The sweetness of your lips becomes almost intoxicating and unlike anything he ever imagined. Logan's hand trails up your side, mapping the curve of your waist. With a soft sigh, he dips his head further, deepening the kiss. All the pent-up tension comes crashing down as you pull away. It's a rush, a torrent that sweeps through him, rendering him breathless and nearly disoriented.

His thumb caresses your cheek, a silent plea that echoes the longing in his tone. "Don't... don't leave."

"Logan... I can't." His heart sinks. It’s not a dramatic plummet, but a slow, agonizing descent. Regret stings your eyes as his hand falls away.

"Why not? You're not happy workin' that job. Stay here, you'll find somethin'," he tries desperately.

"Stop. Please," you whisper, choked with emotion. "Let's just go back."

Heartache keeps Logan tossing and turning all night. Sleep had offered no escape, only a relentless replay of yesterday's conversation. His eyes burn, gritty and heavy as he pushes himself up on his elbows. But a strange unease stirs in his gut. He can't sense your presence. The air feels empty, lacking your familiar warmth and energy.

Panic flares in his mind. Did he push you away? Did you leave in the middle of the night? A cold dread grips his heart. He throws the blanket off, feet hitting the cold wooden floor with a thud.

Nausea rolls over him. A hollow ache in the pit of his stomach inches through his entire body. His hands tremble as he rakes them through his hair, breath catching in his throat. He’s about to give in to the rising despair, the crushing weight of believing you’re gone when a faint scent drifts in through the slightly open window. Relief knocks him hard, so intense his knees almost buckle.

"Fuck, I thought–" he starts, heading towards you.

"I quit."

Logan freezes, his brows furrowing in confusion. "What?"

"I quit my job." The corners of your mouth curve into a smile, and his heart leaps at the sight. "Running out of reasons why I shouldn't," you chuckle softly, fingers lacing together at the nape of his neck, the touch sending a shiver down his spine. "But next year, we're getting real decorations," you add playfully, and he grins.

"I'll buy some today, sweetheart."

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javierpena-inatacvest · 10 months ago

Text

Haircut

Summary: Javi thinks that he's way past due for a haircut. You like his hair long for reasons other than his good looks.

Word Count: 2.1K (I sprinted to write this after I saw this picture)

Pairing: Husband!Javi x Wife!Reader (no use of y/n, reader's nickname is Osita)

Warnings: SMUT (18+) Oral (f receiving), vaginal fingering, praise kink, (lovingly?) possessive Javi, Javi's back at again with his filthy mouth, hair pulling, Javi is hungry and the man is gonna EAT, allsions to more smut, Jonas Brother's references ( bc Javi is our girl dad king and his daughters love them LMAO)

A/N: Y'ALL REALLY THOUGHT THIS PICTURE OF PEDRO WAS SURFACE RIGHT HERE ON TUMBLR DOT COM AND I WASN'T GONNA DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT?!? WRONG. I legit have 3 WIPS I started in the past 24 hours based on this picture alone. Pedro really did this one for the Javier Peña girlies (gn) and I will forever be in debt to him for that. You cannot tell me that this is Dad!Javi when his kids are a little bit older bc HOLY SHIT?! This really may the nail in the coffin for @notjustjavierpena and I bc really fear this is the dilfiest Husband Javi has ever looked 😩😵‍💫 anyways, never getting over this!!!!

Series Masterlist Never Too Late Masterlist

“God, I can’t even remember the last time my hair has been this long. Lucy keeps saying I look like a Jonas Brother. Am I supposed to know who they are? Is that supposed to be a good thing?” Javi sighed, playing with his dark brown curls in the bathroom mirror as you snuck up behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist, peeking out to watch your husband’s longer than usual locks twist between his fingers.

“They’re the goofy looking boy band on Disney Channel that the girls are obsessed with. Like the Backstreet Boys, except cooler, apparently.” You laughed, planting a soft kiss into the fabric of Javi’s worn t-shirt covering his broad back before stepping next to him, leaning your hip against the bathroom counter to admire your husband as he fiddled with his hair.

“Jesus Christ, those guys? God, I really do need a haircut before I start looking like the poster what’s-his-face hanging on Lucy and Elliot’s walls.” Javi chuckled, running his hand through his hair once more before mirroring you, his hip resting against the counter, leaning his weight on his palm splayed flat along the granite surface.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I think he’s supposed to be the best looking one.” You teased, giving Javi a playful shrug. “Besides, I like your hair long.”

“Seriously?” Javi asked, raising an eyebrow at you, crossing his arms over his chest in protest. “It looks like a mop right now.”

“A very sexy mop.” You smirked, nudging Javi before stepping closer into him, reaching up to run your hand through his curls, slowly twisting the ends with your fingers. “It reminds me of that trip we took to Jamaica a few years ago. Your hair was almost this long, remember? You looked so hot in those stupid floral button downs you insisted on buying, and hanging out shirtless by the pool all day while you played with the girls.”

“Fuck, I forgot about that. I’m surprised we didn’t end up with a fourth kid after that trip.” Javi chuckled, slowly shifting the palm that had been holding him up towards your waist, letting his fingers gently toy with the waistband of your pajamas. “You really like my long hair that much?”

“Mhmmmm.” You cooed, continuing to close the gap between your bodies, your free hand resting on Javi’s chest as the other continued to stroke his curls. You could feel a low groan rumbling in Javi’s throat as your fingers weaved back and forth through his hair, the other creeping up to cradle his jaw, thumb tracing back and forth across the stubble on his cheek.

“Yeah? What else do you like about it?” Javi groaned, his hand slipping under the elastic waistband of your pants to grab a fistfull of your ass, kneading the soft flesh in his hand.

“I like…” You paused, bringing your lips to Javi’s, pressing a tender kiss on his lips, “I like that it gives me something extra to hold on to.”

“Hold on to?” Javi asked, cocking his head in slight confusion.

“Hold on to when you go down on me. I love being able to run my hands through your hair when you eat me out, especially when it’s long like this.” You smirked, watching Javi’s eyes go wide in delight, a devilish grin spreading across his face as he bit down on his lip.

Before you could say anything else, Javi’s hands were gripping around your waist and hosting you up to sit on the counter, caging his body against yours, hands planted around the outside of your hips while his lips crashed into yours, your mouths becoming a tangled mess of tongue and teeth.

“Fuck…” Javi whispered to himself, pulling away from your lips to pepper kisses down your jaw and neck, running his hands over your thighs. “I love it when you play with my hair, Hermosa. Love feeling you pull on it when you’re close. Makes me lose my fucking mind every time. Fuck, I’d stay burried between your legs forever if I fucking could.”

Javi began to let his kisses trail down your body, past your chest and across your stomach before he was dropping to his knees in front of you, draping your legs across the width of his shoulders. Pulling at your waistband, you lifted your hips off the counter so your pajamas and underwear could fall to the floor, revealing the wetness that had been pooling between your thighs since you had walked into the bathroom a few minutes ago.

“Jesus Christ…” Javi whispered, further parting your legs to see the arousal already dripping through your folds, staring up at you with a boyish grin on his face, “So fucking wet for me, Hermosa. Didn’t realize you liked my hair that much.”

“Oh shut up you goof, you know I- o-oh fuck-” You whimpered, Javi cutting off the rest of your sentence as the flat of his tongue dragged across your cunt, the suddent sensation making you gasp in delight, already playing in to Javi’s plan as your hand shot down to his head, digging your fingers into his messy hair.

“Better hold on tight, querida. There’s a lot more where that came from.” Javi smirked, pulling away just enough to see the smug smile between his cheeks, peppering a few wet kisses on the inside of your thighs before his head was back between your legs, placing a soft kiss on your clit, already aching and throbbing for more of what you had just been promised.

“Do your worst, Peña.”

That one sent a low growl of approval humming through his chest, laughing to himself as his hands gripped tighter around your thighs, fingertips digging into the soft flesh of your skin before another slow, broad stroke of his tongue was traveling through your folds.

While you were truly convinced there wasn’t another man who loved going down on their wife more than your husband did, you could always tell when Javi wanted nothing more than to stay buried between your thighs, making you cum over and over until you were begging him to stop, lapping up every last drop of you until there was nothing left to give, and right now, you already knew Javi meant what he said when you were about to have to hold on for dear life.

The hand buried in the dark waves of Javi’s hair only began to tug tighter as his tongue began to work meticulously across your cunt, pressing just enough pressure against your sensitive bundle of nerves to already have you a squirming, whimpering mess, but painstakingly slow enough to have you begging for more.

“Javi… Oh, shit. Fuck, more baby, please. P-please.” You moaned, looking down at Javi with what you were already sure was a wrecked expression painted across your face.

You could practically feel Javi’s smug smirk pressed against your cunt as he eased one, then two fingers into your aching core, curling them to bump against the spongy spot inside you that already had you fisting at the edge of the bathroom counter to try and keep your composure, and better yet, your voice down.

“Oh my god, f-fuck. You feel so good, baby.” You moaned, feeling the strong arch of Javi’s nose bumping against your clit, placing a soft kiss there before the flat of his tongue licked another long, broad stroke across your cunt, putting just the right amount of pressure on your sensitive bundle of nerves as his fingers worked in tandem to send the sweet tingling sensation to start building in your spine.

“Fuck, I love this perfect pussy so much. I still can’t believe she’s all fucking mine. My perfect fucking wife. Tell me, Hermosa, whose pussy is this?” Javi asked, pulling away for you to see your slick covering his mustache and the lustful look pooling in the dark brown of his eyes, the quiet possessiveness of his tone making your cunt clench even tighter around his fingers as they continued to pulse in and out of you.

“It’s y-yours, Javi, It’s all- fuck- It’s all yours.” You whined, your breath hitching in your throat as you spoke.

“And who’s the only one who makes you feel like this, huh?” Javi tutted, sliding a third finger into your heat, the sweet stretch and sting making you let out a ragged whimper as you threw your head back in pleasure.

“Y-you- Jesus- Y-you are, Javi.”

“And who’s gonna be a good girl and soak my face when she cums for me?”

“M-me.”

“That’s fucking right, you are.” Javi growled before diving back between your legs, working his tongue relentlessly against your clit, circling and flicking in fast and firm motions as his fingers curled deeper into your core, eating you up like a man starved, desperate to make you fall apart.

You could already feel the coil in your stomach beginning to tighten from the way Javi was working so relentlessly to make you come undone, drinking every ounce of you up as his lips latched around your sensitive bundle of nerves, making your back arch and mind go blank while that all too familiar tingle began to creep through your core, cunt beginning to clench tighter and tighter around him.

At this point, your fingers were tugging so tightly around the soft, brown curls of his locks to try and hold yourself together, that you were convinced that you were close to pulling his hair out of his skull, but with the way you were on the brink of collapse from the way Javi’s mouth was working against your cunt, you almost didn’t have a choice.

“Fuck, Javi. Oh shit- Baby, I’m so close. Don’t stop.”

“I won’t stop, mi amor. Won’t stop until this pretty pussy fucking soaks me.” Javi mewled, peeking his head out from under you just enough so that his sweet, brown eyes were locked with yours, the hot words of his breath dancing against your pussy as his fingers continued to rock in and out of you. “I’ve got you, Osita. Promento. Damelo, bebita. (I promise. Give it to me, baby).”

Before you could respond, your jaw dropped open and face scrunched in pleasure as Javi dove back in, burying his face in your cunt as each press of his tongue became more firm and precise than the last, feeling your pussy begin to flutter as you clutched tighter around the edge of the counter, trying to keep from screaming out in pleasure and raise any suspicion. But as your legs began to tremble and your heart race, teetering on the brink of collapse, it was taking every ounce of willpower you had left to make that happen.

“Fuck, Javi. Fuck, I- fuck- I’m gonna, I’m gonna-ahhhhhh.” You whimpered, feeling your orgasm crash through you, pleasure radiating in your veins as you fell apart, losing all inhibitions to keep yourself quiet as you threw your head back in all consuming bliss. With his fingers still buried in your cunt, gently working you through your high, Javi shot back up, his mouth engulfing yours in an electric kiss to try and capture your ragged moans that had been coating the walls of the bathroom, the tangy taste of you still lingering on his lips.

Your heartbeat finally began to slow, your chest heaving in long, heavy breaths as you slumped into Javi, your head resting on his shoulder as your hands stayed buried deep in his hair, grasping onto his now sweat-dampened ends to try and pull yourself back down to reality.

After a few moments of letting you come to, Javi gently pulled out his fingers, all three drenched and glistening with your slick, pulling them out and bringing them to his mouth, sucking them clean with a devilish smirk of satisfaction on his face.

“God, you taste so fucking sweet. You really weren’t kidding about the hair, huh Hermosa?” Javi chuckled, cupping your jaw to cradle your cheek with his broad palm, forcing your gaze up at him.

“I told you.” You giggled softly, still trying to catch your breath as you smiled at him, pulling him in for another long, tender kiss. “Hottest looking Jonas Brother I’ve ever seen.”

The two of you burst out into laughter, practically snorting at your comment, taking a second to compose yourselves as Javi crossed his arms over his chest, rolling his eyes at you.

“If that’s the fucking case, I’m getting out the clippers tonight.”

“Not until you take me to bed and do this all again, you aren’t.”

taglist:

@chaotic-iguana @rhoorl @whyjuliaaa @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24 @3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo @endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @messinadress @milly-louise @jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled @pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @nastiasnow @vee-bees-blog @hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr @amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild @copperhalfcent @theoraekenslover @pigeonmama @pedr0swh0r3

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carigm · 11 months ago

Text

DISCUSSION ABOUT EL’S POTENTIAL ENDING

So Millie has been giving a lot of interviews lately promoting her latest film Damsel, and ofc interviewers have been trying to get some ST5 info out of her. (We all saw that clip where Mlvn got mentioned to her and the face she made lol)

Well there are two new interviews in which Millie talks about El and they are making me kind of nervous…for lack of a better word.

The first is this one…

She was asked what song helps her cry, and she said “when it’s cold I’d like to die” Now that song famously plays every time a character dies on ST, so it wouldn’t be weird for an actor in the show to associate it with sentimental emotions. However, what concerns me a bit is that she mentions that this is “El’s theme” uh??? Since when girl??

The other interview I’ve already seen it floating around so I won’t add a clip, but she was basically asked about whether she knows how it ends for her character. She goes on to say that she asked for a meeting with the Duffers and she saw a board with her character’s fate and went “ohhhh” and slowly walked out.

I’m not gonna lie that answer is not inspiring happiness in me.

I don’t think the Duffers will “traditionally” kill El. In the sense that I don’t think they would fully kill her off (that would be too fucked up). I do wonder if her character will be around after Vecna has lost and the supernatural has gone away, though. Will she somehow disappear after the conflict is gone? Was she part of a bigger allegory or metaphor related to the supernatural plot of the show?

In the original pitch, the Duffers described El and Mike’s relationship as an Elliot and ET bond. ET is an alien, therefore at the end of the movie he has to leave Earth. He can’t stay there with the other characters. Are we gonna see something similar regarding El? She won’t die but maybe she has to go/be somewhere else?

I don’t want to alarm anyone it’s just that I feel like I’m putting some pieces together here lol…

The Duffers also admitted after S2 came out that El was originally written to “die”, as in she was gonna disappear when she took out the demogorgon. However, they changed their minds when the show got renewed for more seasons. Nonetheless, the Duffers have said that their ending for S5 draws inspiration from the ending of S1.

What the hell are they referring to with this???

I’m also aware that Millie is an actress and she’s drumming up suspense for the show. I know she has admitted to lying in interviews just for fun too. Can’t really trust an actor ever, but I do wonder if we’re seeing some truth from her here.

What do you guys think? Any theories?

#byler #byler theory #stranger things #st5 leaks #st5 spoilers #st5 speculation

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thebluester2020 · 6 months ago

Note

can't tell if requests are open, but can you do sdv bachelors reactions to female farmer with a GYATT 😼💪🏽

Summary: Bachelors reacting to a farmer with a crazy shelf. Warning(s): Crack, Fluff, Some 18+ NSFW + Suggestiveness. Side note(s): My req(s) are always open ngl. I just take forever to get to stuff tbh 😭

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

Elliot

[Pre-Relationship]

Ngl, he really wouldn't know what to do with himself. Especially when he first meets you.

I'm more than certain he'll be respectful and won't make it super obvious that he's looking but I wanna reference that one scene from Smiling Friends where Pim is struggling not to look at this one guy while a mosquito is sucking on his eye.

You wanna look (it's fucking killing you to keep your eyes down) but god, it would feel so good to just look for more than a few seconds.

And don't get me started if he accidentally brushes up against it while you two are close next to each other (say like- a busy tavern).

He's jerking off the second he gets home.

[Established Relationship]

When you two are dating, however, Elliot will still be respectful but he'll allow himself to touch you more often (as well as look).

But I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that he won't be extremely blatant in regards to your ass but will more so show it.

Wearing dress? All of a sudden he's behind you and admiring your figure by placing a hand just above your butt, even going so far as to rub small circles into your back as a sign that he could and wants to go lower (you have to repeatedly tell him its okay to touch you more intimately).

If you're wearing shorts? I think he's definitely had more than a few moments where he's spat out his tea (or nearly choked on something) when you suddenly bend down in front of him to pick something up.

He also had some moments where he's taken you at random just because his hard-on is too much to bear from seeing you walk around all day being thick with no consequences.

All in all though?

Definitely an ass man <3

Sebastian

[Pre-Relationship]

To start this off, I will literally fight anyone when I say- Sebastion is a boob man and no one can change my mind.

With that being said-

Just because the man has preferences doesn't mean he's going to sit and deny you have junk in the trunk.

So I like to think that before you guys are dating, he sees the crazy shelf but he's not going wild and rocking a hard-on just from spotting it once.

It's more of a- "Damn, farmer's got that ass" and he moves on.

Ngl, he will think about how it feels from time to time though

[Established Relationship]

Now, once you two start dating. It's an entirely different ballgame after that.

He's touching your ass any chance he gets.

When you two fuck? All of a sudden he prefers positions where your ass is the center of attention.

When munch mode is activated. He'll gladly eat it from the back.

But I think his favorite part of you having a crazy shelf? It would probably be when you two are cuddling tbh.

It's super soft to the touch and kinda like a stress ball so when you two are relaxing together, he kinda just...squeezes it. It would happen so often that where you don't really pay attention to it anymore.

If you're sitting on his lap while he's working on his computer or playing video games, he's going to grab it.

If you're laying on top of him in his bed, guess what?

You guessed it, he's grabbing it.

Sam

[Pre-Relationship]

If you've followed my blog for a little bit. You probably already know how this is going to go with Sam-

Perv Mode is online

When he sees you for the first time, and you turn around. Sam's eyes would nearly bulge out of his head.

But similarly to Elliot, he'll be respectful in the sense that he doesn't want to creep you out or make him think that he's some type of pervert.

However, once he gets home that night?

Definitely jerking it, maybe even watching a couple videos on his phone with a girl that looks suspiciously like you.

But on the flip side, each time he sees you or you decide to visit his house with a gift for him. He'll blush like a sinner in church each and every time.

[Established Relationship]

He becomes touchy to the max.

Like I'm talking that his hand is on your body (mostly your ass) ninety percent of the time.

However, hear me out on this one, I don't think he'd really care about the sex part per se? (Not that I'm saying he doesn't like positions where he can see it jiggle at maximum efficiency)

Sam would be more of a fan of the clothing, to be honest.

Tight dresses, shorts that just barely cover the underside of your butt etc.

Those are what really get him off 'cause it's teasing for him. The anticipation of being able to feel all up on you as soon as you're finished with your errands from the day and you're back inside your shared farmhouse.

Side headcanon though; I'm a firm believer that Sam would be a huge fan of you teasing him by rubbing your ass over his crotch over his clothes. Just saying.

Alex

[Pre-Relationship]

Okay so Alex is yet another guy that I think is a boob man but, ass is ass and he's not going to deny you've got that gyatt.

But I do also believe that he make it more obvious where his eyes are going when you're around him?

Like if you're talking to someone in a crowd and he's around, he's not going to hide that his eyes are landing on your butt.

And if you're close by his side, his hand will practically be twitching for a teensy feel.

Ultimately though, he'll keep his hands to himself.

[Established Relationship]

King of Backshots.

I know I just said he's a certified boob man but once again, he's not going to lie that you have a fattie.

So with that being said, his preferred positions? They're in a wide variety (when he's not preferring a mating press so he has a good view of your boobs ofc)

Doggy, Reverse Cowgirl, Prone-boning. If your ass is the center of attention then he's going it.

Also I headcanon that if he was on a professional Gritball team then he would definitely brag to his teammates about his partner who has a fat ass.

Low-key I think he'd be open to sharing you ngl. But he's the only one who gets to cum inside you.

Harvey

[Pre-Relationship]

The most respectful man on this list.

If you have a crazy shelf of an ass then ofc he'll see it but he won't see it.

He'll keep his eyes up and to your face the entire time.

Hell, I don't think he'll even dare to let his eyes wander a little out of respect for a potential patient.

That being said, once he's off the clock. He'll probably have flashbacks to you here and there.

[Established Relationship]

Even when he's got you locked in, he's still respectful.

Similar to Sebastion though, I think him being touchy with your butt is going to mostly be reserved for cuddling sessions and when y'all are having sex.

But hear me out on this one in regards to that, while I do believe he'll be a fan of positions where he sees it jiggle.

I think he's more of a fan of positions where he can more so feel it closer to him. Say like spooning sex and other positions that require you to be really close to him.

Then again, Harvey strikes me as that one meme of "My favorite position is seeing you happy" so there's that <33.

Shane

[Pre-Relationship]

I think this man nearly spits out his drink when he first spots you.

Like- no shame to my SDV men/women (except my queen Haley, she'll always be thicc as hell in my head) but I don't think many of them would appeal to Shane aside from Emily??

So when the farmer rolls into the valley, thick as hell. I think Shane develops a low-key crush the second he sees you.

But here's the thing, he wouldn't think of you inappropriately cause he's thinking "Oh, they'd never be into me. There are more appealing people here than me."

So any temptations he has to masturbate to the thought of you? They're quickly snuffed out by those thoughts.

However, that doesn't mean those urges don't pop up frequently every time you decide to visit him in shorts that hug tightly around your thighs.

Or when you wear a sundress that makes him do a cartoon gulp.

Little did he know you were wearing those on purpose.

[Established Relationship]

When you two start dating? Oh boy, prepare yourself.

It's like a volcano erupting basically. Everything he's held himself back from doing, everything he's wanted to do to/with you?

He's trying to do it all immediately to make up for lost time.

From plowing you against the back of your farmhouse, the slaps of your ass against his pelvis sounding wayyyy better in reality than what they did when the thought would flash through his head.

Or maybe even fucking you into the bedsheets!

The world is his oyster now <3.

And he's just glad that he has his fat-assed lover by his side to do everything with now.

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eternal-sunshine-222 · 2 months ago

Note

Omg hii I saw that you are writing for Judd birch. I’m so happy to see that the tag is getting a little more active now. Could you please write a blurb for Judd x alt!reader where Judd and reader are just hanging out and someone in the birch family catches him being all soft and cuddly with reader?

Hii! I will tell you right now I just recently started watching Big Mouth so I don't know too much about many of the characters, but I will do my best! This is my first request on here and to be honest I'm really glad it's for Judd. I didn't think many people would want me to write for him so I'm excited. I hope you like it! <3

YOU BIG SOFTIE, YOU - Judd Birch x Alt!Reader

Characters: Judd Birch, fem!reader, Nick Birch, Diane Birch, Elliot Birch, Leah Birch

Warnings: light cursing

Contains: lots and lots of fluff

Judd Birch was not a people person at all, not even with his own family. He preferred to stay by himself, his only company being his battalion of raccoons and he was perfectly fine with that. He didn't need someone constantly nagging him. Now, cliche as it is, that all changed when he saw her. He would do anything for her, anything at all.

Y/n was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, with her hair dyed dark crazy colors, bold graphic makeup, and band tees that never seemed to end. She, much like himself, didn't seem to care about social status or making friends at school. She wanted out of that hell hole as soon as physically possible.

The eldest Birch spawn had approached Y/n almost nervously after school one day with plans of asking her if she'd like to come meet his raccoons. But, alas, he chickened out. He couldn't believe that; that was something Nick did, not him! Eventually after watching Y/n for weeks the woman herself approached him outside during their lunch break, ready to beat him down if he was perving on her.

It was almost Christmas break, very cold outside. When Y/n approached Judd who was leaning against the side of the brick school building smoking a cigarette, his black and blue hair lightly blowing in the cold breeze, she could've fainted right then and there. He was beautiful. Y/n had only ever saw him from yards away, definitely not close enough to get a good look at his features. She liked what she was looking at and she liked it a lot. It would be such a shame if he really was perving on her.

Judd hadn't seen who he referred to as the girl of his dreams approaching until she spoke to him for the very first time.

"Hey."

It was such a small, simple greeting yet it caused him to lose all the breath in his lungs and start coughing violently. Y/n jumped slightly, startled at the sudden reaction. She quickly took a water bottle out from her bag and handed it to him, hoping to ease the burning he felt in his lungs. Judd chugged down half of it before handing it back to Y/n with a flushed face and narrowed embarrassed eyes.

"First time smoking?" Y/n joked lightheartedly, a small smile on her face as she glanced up at him from her bag.

Judd's face turned even redder and just nodded at her, stubbing out what was left of his burning cigarette.

Y/n sighed at his lack of words and had mentally decided that she apparently wasn't going to get any answers out of him, but she talked anyway.

"I've seen you staring at me for the past few weeks. Wanted to know what that was all about. Care to tell me?" She raises a thin drawn on eyebrow at him as she tucks her gloved hands underneath her arms to warm them up further.

Judd doesn't answer her immediately, stuck on what to say. Y/n waits a few moments more before sighing and starts to walk away.

'So much for that,' she thinks to herself.

"Go out with me."

Y/n stops in her tracks and whips her head around.

"I'm sorry?"

Judd is silent.

"Please?" He's hopeful.

Y/n walks back over to where he's still leaning against the school building. Her arms are still crossed as she narrows her brows slightly in confusion.

"Is that what you've been wanting? Because you could've just said so instead of being a creep. I mean, look at us." Y/n gestures to their alternative appearances. "It's like we're made for each other!"

Judd smiles, knowing she's joking but also getting a hint of seriousness from her words.

Y/n took Judd up on his offer of a date and the two have been pretty much inseparable ever since. They spent all their time together, skipping school to drive around, going to small diners around the neighborhood late at night for their little dates. But they kept in on the downlow. Both parties felt it was not necessary for people to know what wasn't any of their business. It wasn't until Christmas day that the Birch family found out Judd even had a girlfriend of sorts.

Shortly after school had let out for break Y/n and Judd had spent the day together at her apartment with her parents. They were very supportive of their daughter's relationship. As long as she was safe.

And safe she was. Y/n and Judd swapped gifts early on that morning seeing as she would be going on a small trip to a few states away to visit some family for Christmas. He had gifted her a new pair of large black boots, something she had been eyeing for a while, along with a new pocketknife for which she thanked him thoroughly and showered him with kisses. In turn Y/n had gifted him a lovely soft deep blue sweater and a chain necklace with her initial on it.

Judd loved the sweater she got him but he didn't love it as much as his new chain. He never took it off unless it was to shower. It had quickly become his most prized possession and he would die before he let anyone touch it, let alone take it. Unfortunately, that day came a lot sooner than he would've liked.

Judd woke up midway through Christmas day which resulted in an even later shower. He undressed and before he stepped in he put his chain in the same place he always did: on the little shelf above the sink, careful to make sure it didn't fall off to the side or down into the sink. But when he got out it wasn't anywhere to be seen.

Panic filled his heart and chest, his entire being really, as he searched the entire bathroom from floor to ceiling. After finding nothing he wrapped a towel around his still dripping form and slammed the door open. He almost slipped rushing down the stairs and into the living room where his mother sat on his father's lap and Nick and Leah were on opposite ends of the couch.

"Where the fuck is it?" His voice was harsh and his eyes narrowed, cheeks red.

Diane looked over at her eldest child from the television and smiled kindly.

"Where's what, darling?"

Judd huffed out a breath, impatient and worrying, afraid he might tear up.

"My chain. The one I always wear. Where is it?"

It's only then that he notices Nick with a small smirk on his face as he looks at his phone. His eyes narrow more and he frowns before lunging at his younger brother. The two wrestle for a short time with Judd easily overpowering his youngest sibling before he stands, wet hair ruffled messily and towel askew, held in place by only one hand as his other clutches onto the chain he retrieved from Nick's pocket.

"Stay out of my shit, dickface." He then stomps back upstairs to the bathroom and slams the door shut.

The remaining members of the Birch family all look at each other with curious eyes before Elliot speaks up.

"What was all that about?"

Nick, who is still out of breath with red cheeks, shrugs his shoulders and they all continue with their previous activities.

It isn't until Valentine's Day that the Birch family meets Y/n. The love-filled holiday fell on a weekday this year, meaning his siblings would be in school and his parents would most likely be spending the day out and about going on little dates. He thought he'd have the entire house to himself so he invited Y/n to come over so they could spend quality time together.

Judd and Y/n spent most of their time watching horror movies on the downstairs television, cuddled up under the many blankets that Y/n had brought over with neither getting up unless to use the bathroom or make more popcorn and snacks. It was a laid back, calm day, just how both liked it.

Both Judd and Y/n wished this day would never end.

But unfortunately it had to.

Y/n fell asleep on top of Judd sometime during their fourth movie of the day, her face buried in his neck with his arms wrapped tightly around her waist. He was starting to doze off himself when he heard the front door unlock and open quickly. As much as he wished his family wouldn't say anything he knew they would. But he wasn't going to take any chances in waking Y/n up so he stayed perfectly still and let them.

Nick and Leah were the first to enter the living room. Leah glanced at her older brother laying on the couch briefly before continuing on to her room. Nick on the other hand stopped in his tracks and stared at the girl laying on top of his brother for an ungodly amount of time before Judd raised a tired eyebrow at him. It was only then that he called out for Elliot and Diane.

Judd quickly reached his hands up and covered his girlfriend's ears, shielding her from the loud voices as his parents entered the room. They, too, stopped in their tracks upon entering the living room but instead of staring they both smiled and grabbed onto each other.

"Oh, Judd, you big softy! I knew there was something going on with you." Diane smiled sweetly at her son and his newly revealed sleeping love. "How long?"

Judd cleared his throat lightly.

"Few months."

Elliot spoke up next.

"Looks like you got yourself a nice one, son. Just like you father." He turns to Diane and the two start to snuggle together.

Judd grimaces and turns away.

"Gross."

But Judd knew his father was right. Y/n was a nice one. The nicest. And he wouldn't change her for anything in the world.

I finally finished it! I really hope you like this, and like I said I just recently got into the show, so I don't know too much about it. I wrote this purely based off vibes alone. Please let me know if there's anything I can improve and don't be afraid to leave comments or ask questions. Thank you so much! <3

#big mouth #big mouth x reader #judd birch #judd birch x reader #judd birch fluff

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paddyandpoetry · 16 days ago

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About writing beautiful dialogues in screenplays

Maybe I’m a little late to say this, but whatever. As an amateur writer I can’t find words to describe how flabbergasted I was when watched SAS: Rogue Heroes for the first time and saw some amazing dialogues. I know the show has it’s flaws, but Paddy quoting T.S Elliot when he saw Augustin Jordan and saying “The eyes of a familiar compound ghost, both intimate and unidentifiable.” was beautiful. Another great dialogue happened later in the same episode (S01Ep.05) when Stirling and Paddy are fighting (It's not a physical fight, I don't know how to explain it properly, but they describe their actions in words as if they were hitting each other) and Stirling says “You need to forget about Eoin McGonigal, that was me pulling a knife” that is peak writing for me. The screenwriter had a vision and was able to put into words the essence of his characters, truly amazing.

There is a scene where Paddy says to Augustin “Loving someone can make you too fond of life which can turn you in to a coward” and in another scene Paddy is reminiscing about the past and says to himself “How great life would be to be a coward, to love life that much” but he is referring to the fact that he loved Eoin so much and now I’m crying….

ps: English is not my first language, sorry for any spelling mistakes.

#sas rogue heroes #sas: rogue heroes #paddy mayne #eoin mcgonigal #david stirling #paddy x eoin #my text

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cloveroctobers · 1 month ago

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so yeah — 7. Roman Reigns [Winter Prompts]

A/N: uh oh, I’m dabbling a little more for this man! Also happy holidays to you all because I honestly doubt I’ll have anything else out before whichever holiday you celebrate. Hope you enjoy this piece and that it brings you comfort and feels? 🤪🤍

PROMPTS ARE FROM HERE & I’m using: SITUATIONS — My flight was cancelled and I went home to find my ex cheating on me, so now I'm at this pub.

WARNINGS: Language, break ups, reference to the netflix film, “Malcolm & Marie,” choosing to deal with your emotions at a later time, & strangers to friends trope?

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“Just say the word sis and I’ll slash all three of his tires, kick out the window shield, and leave multiple bad reviews of him as a screenwriter,” your best friend repeats over the phone while you use your elbow to push the swivel doors.

Rolling your bag into the lobby you close your eyes and let out a deep breath, “As much as I appreciate you always sitting on go, Malcolm isn’t worth it and I honestly don’t feel like riding around much more tonight, especially to bail you out.”

“Alright girl…I just wish you wouldn’t be alone on Christmas because of his dumbass.”

Flights were cancelled, “until further notice,” and you accepted that defeat more than anything.

“I won’t be.” You answer as you spy security keeping watch of the entrance to the casino.

The Medallion, the joint hotel and casino was a random spot you decided to stop at after that treacherous revelation you received. You had your own home in Miami, whereas your boyfriend of three years, screenwriter and producer Malcolm Elliot—who had his own home back in LA—thought the greatest gift to give you three days before Christmas, was to have his ex-girlfriend up in your house and bed.

The pulsing anger that dripped from the center of your forehead down to your entire being was tough to vocally describe. You were more angry than hurt because why would he play in your face like that? Putting in all this time just for him to decide to go back to the one relationship that was full of disagreements and doubts, just based off what he told you that is. Ultimately you learned that Malcolm Elliot was not the man or enough for you.

And that’s on Toni Braxton!

Closing your eyes, you took another moment to collect yourself before stepping forward, heels clacking against the polished floor, and bag rolling beside you. The process getting into the casino was easy, it was going on 3am so you understood the slow pace and lack of others as you made your way through the vibrant lights and empty seats.

“What can I get you?”

Snapping out of your daze, you turn your head to the left, response getting caught in your throat for a second as you got a good look of the handsome man behind the bar. He was dressed in a pinstriped tux with a whole tie (that didn’t match) and his dark shiny hair neatly brushed back.

There’s amusement in his eyes as he pushes off the counter, tucking the rag he was just wiping the bar with down below, “Or do you need a few more minutes alone burning a hole into my shelf?”

You scoff, resting your cheek into your balled up knuckles, “Is it that obvious I’m pissed off?”

He shrugs, “It’s not that hard for me to tell…interacting with people and analyzing them is part of the job.”

“Is that so…Mr…?”

He smiles at you and it almost makes your breathing hitch as he takes his time walking over to hold his hand out, “Just call me Joe.”

“Okay, just joe. I’m really a martini kinda girl so whatever you have left that won’t make me pick a fight with one of your machines would be nice.” You place your hand in his, which is actually warm and soft against yours as he gives your hand a firm squeeze.

Joe dips his head as he moves to get to work, “You got it.”

The phone that’s face down on the counter is buzzing madly that the side eye you’re giving it, makes Joe peek at your expression from over his shoulder. “I’m guessing who ever is on the other line, fucked up big time? I also get the impression you hardly ignore a phone call on purpose…depending on who the person is.”

Snatching the phone up, you roll your eyes as you quickly go to shut it off and toss it into the tote bag that seated right on top of your hard suitcase. “you’ve got that right, Joseph! A no good sorry excuse for a man is who’s on the other line. How do you cheat on someone a few days before Christmas? And not just with anyone, a ex who’s also an addict that you put on blast in one of your films?”

The pulsating ache was starting to hit harder now that you had to massage it some. Rolling your shoulders a bit, you sat up straight, trying to get rid of some of the tension. Joe sends a pretty martini your way, which you latch onto.

“I guarantee he’s not as great as he thinks he is…especially if he thinks it’s okay to be disrespectful by cheating and on someone like you.”

“You don’t know me, Joe.”

“Yet…but if you stay here until sunrise, I’m sure you’ll confirm my assumptions for me.”

Waggling your finger, you say with slits in your eyes after tossing back the drink, “I know you’re not trying to get me to partake in getting under to get over, are you Joseph? If so I might just have to turn into a Karen and request to speak to the manager.”

“You’re looking at both the manager and owner.” He states with ease.

“Oop, okay big boss!” You laugh while snapping your fingers, “Just shut me on up.”

“Nah, of course not. We’re just getting started.” The intensity in his eyes is enough to make the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, so you just simply roll your eyes, a smile playing on the corner of your lips.

Joe flicks his eyes from your lips back to your eyes, “See…that’s all I want to see tonight. A beautiful smile on an even more stunning woman.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere, Mr. Good lookin’ business man.” You cross a leg over the other, “I’ll take another, please.”

Joe nods as he holds up some fingers, “Your limit will be three, so two more.”

You huff, “I didn’t come here to be bossed around but…it’s fine. I’ve got shrooms in my bag.”

The man frowns, “And you were getting on a flight with those?”

“Of course not!” You shake your head, “I only have enough to make me enjoy the flight.”

Joe wasn’t sure how accurate that was since most people needed someone they trusted to keep them grounded but all he responds with is, “…You are something else.”

“It’s Christmas!” You argue.

The man mutters, “Sounds like an excuse to me.”

“I can be your sugar plum fairy on the dance floor.” You suddenly say, “So you can feel the spirit.”

“…if slow dancing is truly what you want, I’m happy to oblige.” Joe shrugs before continuing on, “You don’t need liquid courage or shrooms to have a good time with me though.”

“You talk a good game…you do this with all your pretty customers?” You stare at him from underneath your eyelashes.

“Nah…I’m actually rarely down here at this hour but there’s a reason I’m here for the dusk shift.” He hands you another and leans over to whisper, “Must have been for me to meet something good.”

“There you go with your assumptions.” You sigh bringing the rim of the cocktail to your lips, “Alright, just call me Joe. Why are you lonesome during the holidays? There’s no chance there’s not someone at home waiting for you?”

He grins at you, lightly caressing at his facial hair, “Are you fishing?”

“Not at all. It’s too cold.” You easily respond, making Joe blink at you, while you hold his stare before slipping him a wink, “C’mon, I’ll give you a synopsis of my shit? I was supposed to be on a flight to visit my family for the holidays, flight got cancelled, went back to my home, just to find my shitty boyfriend who’s in the film industry, entertaining his ex girlfriend, Marie. Sounds like a cheesy sitcom doesn’t it? Malcolm and Marie! Yet I’m the one looking stupid! Those bitches.”

You finish the rest of the drink and slam it back on the counter.

“You’re not stupid.” Joe debates, “No one expects to be cheated on. You just expect someone to love you in return and there’s nothing wrong with that. It’s his lost, remember that.”

“Aren’t you sweet but I’m starting to realize maybe I wasn’t in love with him,” you rest your elbows on the counter with a deep sigh before wiggling one finger at him, “But we’re doing no deflecting this morning! We’re basically friends at this point, blabbering at almost four in the morning.”

Joe shrugs with his bottom lip pushed out, “If you say so.”

“Heart to heart now and then we dance our sorrows away?”

Joe fires back with a frown, “Who says I’m sad?”

“You’re here at your place of business all by yourself during the holidays.” You state, “While you should be at home, tucked in bed with a loved one.”

Joe exhaled through his nose, “I got hit with an ultimatum to get married by a certain time and I don’t do well with others planning out shit for me. So…she left, decided to get in a relationship with someone we went to college with, and took the damn dog too.”

“Booo! Not the dog! And here I thought you were going to say she got struck by a car and left for dead or something.” You ramble.

Joe furrowed his brows, “Things don’t always have to be tragic.”

“I hear it builds character.”

Joe felt his eye twitch, “You want me to be the villain?”

“Something tells me you’ve already been through that,” you tilt your head to the side staring at the mysterious man who only gave some details here and there as this part of the world sleeps, “But I think I like talking to this guy instead.”

Joe hums, getting lost in thought but chose not stay much on that. You take this time to look around the empty casino before spinning back around to meet the stranger’s eyes, “Let’s make each other’s wishes come true?”

“Meaning?”

“We dance until sunrise.”

Joe grumbled as he glanced up at the ceiling, “You and this dancing.”

“Don’t tell me you have two left feet?”

“What?” Joe scowls, “I can do a little something.”

“Meet me on the dance floor then.”

Joe asserts, “It’s a casino not the club.”

“Aw, those are probably just closing now.” You’re pouting and it’s honestly the cutest thing the man has ever seen.

“Good, you don’t need to be in there.” Joe states as if it’s a fact, but he can only imagine how you’re in the club and that’s most likely a hand full.

You’re confused, “Where do I need to be?”

“Wherever you want to be.”

“You were supposed to sing Donell jones in that moment and you flopped.”

“…You always this much of a yapper in the mornings?” Joe crossed his arms.

“I maybe a morning person—or night owl? That going to be a problem for you bestie?”

Joe winced, “As long as you stop calling me bestie.”

“Only special people gain that title so you should be honored.” You hop off the stool, stumbling a little bit but catch yourself on the counter as you pick up on a sigh from the man behind you, “All part of my performance, Joseph. Tens across the boards! Now get over here.”

“You’re kinda bossy to someone who can escort you out.”

Spinning with your hair flicking behind you, it’s your turn to turn up the heat, “You’d miss me if you did.”

Joe pretends to think about it, humming but eventually makes his way over to you. You take your time taking in his appearance up close, “Did you ever play football?”

“Yeah…a little.”

“I know a baller when I see one.” You snap your fingers again, “Okay…so tell me…favorite Christmas song of all time?”

“Here’s a secret…” He’s leaning towards you again, “I hate Christmas.”

Gasping you latch onto your fur covered chest and almost choke on your saliva, making the man reach out towards you but you fan him away as you wheeze, “…What’re you some sort of krampus?”

He scrunches up his lips, “Do I look like some sort of half goat, half demon to you?”

“Ask me once the shrooms kick in.” You sass as you walk by him, making Joe pinch the space in between his brows.

When did you even?

“I’m going to assume that it’s because the ex broke up with you on Christmas?” You announce over your shoulder.

Joe slowly follows behind you, hands clasped behind his back as you walk through the aisles of slot machines looking for the perfect spot, “No. She actually did that around my birthday.”

“…I can fight her if you want?”

A rumble of laughter builds in his chest, “Appreciate that but everything isn’t so one sided.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.”

You left space open for the man to elaborate but he doesn’t so you sigh holding out your hands, “Hand in mine, babe. Looks like I’m not going to be the nutcracker tonight—you’re the nut by the way—so hold on to me and all your troubles will be miles away.”

He stares at your hand before cautiously taking yours in his, carefully he places his hand on your waist that buried beneath the warmth of the coat you have on as he predicts, “Have yourself a merry little Christmas?”

“You got it.” You sniff as you step closer and get a whiff of how good Joe smells: warm, woody, and slightly floral yet sweet, “That one makes me cry every time.”

“Hey now,” Joe moves to snake his arm around your waist as if to steady you if your knees so happened to get weak again, “There’s no need for that when you’ve got an Angel right in front of you.”

You snort out some laughter going to rest your head on Joe’s chest, which catches him off guard but he keeps on swaying.

“…You still believe in Christmas after what that Malcolm asshole did?”

You find comfort in Joe’s chest while keeping the tune of your favorite song in your head, “‘Course. Christmas is about a lot of things but just because someone did me wrong doesn’t mean all the love that I still have should go to waste, ya know? So shut up and feel my love, stranger turned bestie.”

It’s joe turns to roll his eyes but he takes in your words. You’re the woman that walked into his place of business, freshly cheated on, and ready to shoot laser eyes into the bottles that sat on the shelf, yet as time went on with a little liquor on your side and “magic,” Joe felt like just maybe your presence alone was supposed to be here.

To remind him that the holidays didn’t have to be so dreadful like they’ve been the past few years.

Slow dancing together with no one in the room was so intimate, so personal, and it wasn’t something Joe would be open to. There’s plenty of others who may or may not have been under the influence who have tried but he always had his business face on walking through. He’s been closed off for a while now and here he was with you, someone that he didn’t know who’s just been thrown for a loop, who just wanted to have a kind moment that didn’t feel so shitty.

Joe started to feel like he should be glad that he could provide that for you, without truly knowing you.

Maybe he did.

When the alarm goes off, signaling that it was time for him to shut down the casino, it brings you two out of your own little world. He’s clearing his throat, watching as you slowly lift your head from his chest. He wants to caress your face but feels like that might be too much, so he just gives your hand that he’s still holding onto, a gentle squeeze before stepping back to close out.

You’re back on the stool, room slightly spinning in various colors as you smile with your chin tucked on your fingers.

“Ive got to count the cash in the back but you’re welcome to stay here if you want…as long as you don’t fall asleep on me.” Joe’s got the register drawer in his hands as he glances at you.

You’re swaying but respond, “I’m far from tired…I actually want ramen.”

He laughs, “fortunately for you, I know a guy. If you want to stick around? We can head out to the lounge to enjoy it together?”

“I’d like that, Joseph.”

It’s a breath taking smile he sends your way before leaving you to enjoy your trip briefly. You’re not sure how long he’s gone until his hand touches the back of your bare neck that your Bob doesn’t fully cover. Together you take your things, walking towards the lobby as Joe locks up the casino doors before turning back to you. He leads the way to the lounge thats tucked to the right of the casino by the shut down escalators, leaving you again but not without telling his security, Heyman, to watch over you, while he went to retrieve the ramen you mentioned.

Once he returns, he doesn’t hesitate sitting beside you. He has all various types of the dish that has you smiling even harder now.

“Forgot to ask which you prefer so I figured why not get all from my guy? He’s the best of the best.” Joe shrugs, followed by a sheepish smile at the spread on the table.

Picking up a container, you sit back on the couch, ready to dig in. “Looks like we made it.”

“Huh?” Joe questions after picking a container himself, slightly glancing at you as he sits back against the couch as well.

You softly smile as you lift your chin in the direction you were staring out at, “To sunrise.”

“Oh, yeah. Looks like we did.” Joe replies, staring out at the glow of sun that’s ready to beam out from the dark navy skies.

Before you sip at the broth you say, “I’m going to rest my head on your shoulder now.”

“Go ahead, make yourself comfortable.”

You already did and this man didn’t even recognize the love he gives.

In due time, maybe you’d tell him.

Yeah, that sounds like a plan.

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Continue with my winter anthology prompts here.

#Spotify #queued #roman reigns #Roman reigns x reader #Roman reigns x black reader #malcolm and marie #winter prompts #winter fiction #winter fanfiction

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accirax · 2 months ago

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Analyzing DRDT's Ch2 Motive Diction

The fuck do I think I am, a time traveler? Why am I posting a theory about DRDT's Chapter 2 motive secrets now that Chapter 2 is finally complete? What's even the point in analyzing a motive that's over and done with?

Well, believe it or not, this is actually a theory I wanted to write before Chapter 2 Part 2 came out, I just never got around to it. And now we have more confirmation as to which secrets actually go where! So, really, it's all according to keikaku.

The point of this theory is to look at the language used in presenting the motive secrets, and see what it can tell us about both the secret's owner, and possibly the mastermind/whoever wrote them. What subjectivity did the writer inject into the secrets' phrasing, and could any of the secrets be better or worse than we originally thought? Put on your best scrutinizing glasses, and we'll take a look!

The usual CWs for Chapter 2 motive discussion: death, suicide, eating disorders, self harm, and implied homophobia/transphobia. Oh, and spoilers for DRDT through the end of Chapter 2, naturally.

Also as usual, I'll be assuming that all of the secrets are correctly attributed as they were in canon, other than that Xander and Teruko have swapped such that Xander has survivor's guilt and Teruko has the killing game is all your fault. I'm gonna look like a real fool some chapters down the line if I'm wrong about that, but I feel like most of the fandom has consensus agreed that this is the case.

I'll be dissecting the words of each secret through the lenses of the three Fs-- factual truth, flavored truth, and forced opinion. If those categories aren't as inherently comprehensible as they could have been due to my want for a snappy moniker, let me explain them further.

Factual truth is just that-- a literal statement that must be taken at face value. Under the assumption that all of the secrets are the truth (and it's not that J isn't actually Mariabella's daughter or whatever), there isn't much to be analyzed here. The writer presented the story with no flavor.

"You are reading a DRDT theory."

Flavored truth comes in two main forms. The first refers to emotional truths. Someone's secret describes that they feel a certain way about a certain event. It's likely base-level true, but do they feel that way due to their own opinion, or were they forced to feel that way due to someone else's opinion? And, what exactly does that opinion mean?

"You were happy to read a DRDT theory."

The other option is for when what's written is factual truth, but overlaid with a weird emotional layer. Said layer might make the truth feel overexaggerated, therefore implying a subjective take on the subject. Basically, it's anything that logistically should have been factual truth, but that subjectively I felt had something more to it.

"You prioritized reading DRDT theories over your other responsibilities."

Combined, purple means fact-adjacent, but with a little something injected into it.

Forced Opinion is content injected directly from the writer's perspective, and it's what initially caught my eye and got me thinking about writing this analysis. There are a couple of instances in which the writer speaks directly to the reader without feeling the need to provide any level of verifiable fact. These statements exist only to convey the writer's desired tone.

"Why do you even enjoy DRDT theories?"

Some secrets use only one of these Fs, some use two, and some use all three. On that note, we'll be examining the secrets in reverse spiciness order, with the most straightforward secrets first and the most interesting ones saved for last. So, who has the most sauceless secret?

Charles

"Your older brother died, but you don't remember him at all."

Okay Elliot fans, don't kill me for inadvertently calling your boy sauceless.

It's not that Charles' secret doesn't contain intriguing information, but that the way in which that secret is presented doesn't tell us anything about the person who wrote it. It's not phrased as "how could you have forgotten your dead older brother?" or anything as dramatic as that. Both phrases are presented in a manner devoid of emotion or judgment. They're just two facts!

Rose

"You took on your talent to earn money for your family. But you've since put them in a lifetime of debt."

"Lifetime of debt" feels kind of accusatory, but it is true when the sum total is in the millions of dollars. I think this could have been written a lot more judgmentally than it was, which is why I ultimately left it as factual truth.

Whit

"Your mother is dead. You always omit that truth."

The use of "always" in "always omit that truth" could be called into question, but based on Whit's behavior so far, it seems to be pretty straight up. Honestly, if anything, I think the bluntness of this statement speaks more to the writer's opinions and goals than anything else.

"You hide your name and birthright to pretend that you aren't the daughter of Mariabella Rosales."

"Birthright" is defined as "a particular right of possession or privilege one has from birth," if anyone was curious. With the way our society is set up, J should inherit a large amount of money and soft power just by being Mariabella's daughter, so I think this is legit. It has a bit of an emotional tone of superiority to it, but nothing drastic.

Arei

"Blackmail, rumors, lying, stealing, slander. You did everything you could to ruin your sisters' lives."

Ooh, our first instance of flavored truth. We're welcoming it in with a pretty bland example, though-- one that I went back and forth on for a while with whether it should count as factual or flavored.

Ultimately, I decided that, if we hadn't had Arei spell out her backstory and secret for us, I'm sure I would have been speculating about what "ruin your sisters' lives" really meant, and to what degree it was true. I shouldn't disqualify purple text from being purple text just because it was proven true. However, because this really was proven to be Arei's main motivation, we can basically take it as fact.

Levi

"You're a murderer, and you hold no remorse."

A secret which obviously has both a factual and an emotional component, but is also pretty straightforward in how it presents that emotional component.

When I was originally scheming up this theory (before it was revealed to be Levi's), one of my big talking points was going to be about how the divide in this secret opened up the possibility for it to actually be two secrets in one: that the secret's owner was both a murderer, and, separately, held no remorse. That turned out to more or less be true, which was fun!

Eden

"Ever since you kissed her, you were afraid your sexuality would ruin your friendships."

Eden's secret has a pretty obvious factual part-- that she kissed a girl (and she liked it)-- and a pretty obvious emotional component-- that she was afraid it would ruin her friendships.

Much like Levi or Arei, the emotional component is very likely accurate. In this case it's not very dramatized: they didn't go as far as to say "ever since you kissed her, you knew it was a matter of time before your friends would leave you" or anything along those lines. Still, as an emotion-based secret, so there's always room for debate.

Ace

"Your body is falling apart, but you'll still refuse to eat."

"Your body is falling apart" is (probably) a fact, but it feels really emotional. That "probably" is what sold me on this needing to be purple, though. It's hard to say how much Ace's body really was falling apart prior to his death. I'm sure the situation wasn't great, but we know that Ace was still capable of overpowering Arei, lifting ~60 pounds, launching a slingshot, and cutely climbing up swingsets on top of the running, swimming, and general obstacle-course-ing featured in his execution. Ace surely wasn't healthy, but "falling apart" seems like a bit of an exaggeration, based on the knowledge we currently have.

If nothing else, the "but" and "still" paint a picture of Ace being aware that his body is malfunctioning but choosing to limit his calorie intake anyways, which is an emotional layer far beyond the likes of a blunt "you have an eating disorder."

Nico

"No one accepted you because of your identity. You were constantly mocked by your family, your peers, and everybody else."

Does this highlighting make sense to people? Nico being bullied for being nonbinary is (sadly) the truth, but there's a lot of emotional coding to it that isn't necessarily 100% accurate. Like, is it really true that no one Nico met previously ever accepted them? I'm not going to pretend like there aren't deeply transphobic places out there, but "constantly mocks" further makes it sound like not only did everyone hate them, everyone did so physically and/or vocally, as opposed to simply judging in silence.

The weirdest thing about Nico's secret to me is that the writer took what otherwise could have been a factual secret and turned it into a largely emotional one. The only straight up fact we can garner from this is "Nico was mocked by their family and peers because of their identity." What happened to "people threw rocks and laughed at you because of your identity"? That would have been a (more or less) concrete fact that illustrates the exact same idea. But instead, the writer went all in on dramatizing that everyone was against Nico. Is there a reason for that?

Veronika

"You only took on your talent to distract yourself from your incessant need to harm yourself for fun."

Veronika's secret is kinda like Nico's plus Ace's, so it's nice to be able to put it here. Like Nico's, it interweaves factual truth and flavored truth in a way that makes distinguishing between them uncertain. And, like Ace's, it deals with a factual mental illness combined with its subjective motivations.

The core truth of this secret is "you took on your talent to distract yourself from your need to harm yourself," which is what can be seen in blue. However, that has very different implications than "you only," "incessant," and "for fun" add. Of the three, I would rank "incessant" as the most factual, "you only" as the least factual," and "for fun" in the middle.

I do think that Veronika's need to harm herself did feel incessant, but whether it was really for fun is up for debate. It's even more debatable whether distracting herself from self-harm was her ONLY reason for becoming a horror fanatic, as there are many other potential motivators out there, such as a genuine interest in the craft, or even the generalized boredom Veika describes as opposed to just the self-harm angle. In the end, I don't know how helpful making that distinction is for Veronika, but I'll throw it out there.

Arturo

"Your younger sister killed herself because of you. You never should have left."

Our first instance of forced opinion marks where things really start to get juicy. Although, uh, before you interpret my analysis in a way I didn't mean, just because something is marked as opinion doesn't mean it isn't an opinion I agree with. If Arturo sticking around would have saved Felicity's life, then, yeah, he probably shouldn't have left. However, in essence, "you never should have left" isn't a fact, it's an opinion-- one that prioritizes Felicity's life over whatever benefits Arturo gained from running away.

Again! I would also prioritize Felicity's life over whatever motivation Arturo had, assuming that they wouldn't have just, like, both died if he'd stuck around. However, the fact that I hold that opinion tells you something about me and my beliefs. I'm someone who holds the popular opinion of valuing others' lives. And therefore, from the pink text, we can also surmise that the secret writer values others' lives, or at least is willing to leverage that common opinion in order to make others feel guilty.

The only concrete fact present in Arturo's secret is that his younger sister killed herself. The idea that she did so because of Arturo, to some extent, is probably true, but it's based on the emotions of a person that the secret writer probably never even met. Especially when combined with the pink text, the secret gives the vibes of repeating Arturo's dark thoughts back to him to make him feel even worse about the situation. The writer's embellishments of a simple fact were designed to hurt Arturo.

"You were quite the hopeless child. Dying once wasn't enough, so you attempted suicide three times."

Hu attempted suicide three times: true. Hu's emotional state while doing so was pretty abysmal: yeah, probably. Dying once wouldn't be enough to counteract what she did: ????????

Much like Arturo's, I imagine that the pink text in this case is supposed to mirror an emotional "truth" that Hu holds in her heart. Still, I can't call it anything close to a "fact," given that it's completely based on individual interpretations of penance and morality. And it's an absolutely buckwild thing to say, especially while providing no context as to why anyone would hold that opinion.

It's hard to know what further motives the writer may have had beyond making Hu feel bad when we don't know what Hu did that made her feel as if she needed to die. For instance, if Hu accidentally killed her childhood friend, then we could use that as a data point that the writer was harsher towards murderers. Or, if it was putting her family into financial trouble, we could contrast how the writer treated Rose's secret versus Hu's. However, as we currently have no leads on what Hu's done that she needs to pay for (as her secret quote tells us), there's nothing more to be gained here.

Min

"You always treated the competition with ruthlessness, but poisoning them to win was a bit too far, wasn't it?"

One interesting facet of Min's secret is that it contains one of the most obvious uses of the writer injecting their own opinion into the secret. Like, the entire secret isn't even a statement, it's a rhetorical question. You can feel the writer raising their eyebrow at Min challengingly.

Once again, the pink text is being used to judge and/or shame Min for what she did. I really can't see any other purpose for the pink text beyond doing that.

Xander

"You're constantly blaming yourself for the death of your parents and siblings. It doesn't matter that it's not your fault, just that you didn't go with them."

An even more interesting facet of Xander's text is that this is the only instance in which the pink text is... sort of nice? I mean, not really, as it's still majorly playing to his survivor's guilt in a way that I'm sure would have made him feel awful had he ever read it.

No, what I'm talking about is the "it's not your fault" aspect. I really struggled with which of the Fs to assign to it. From Visiting Graves, it seems like the cause of Xander's family's death was drinking unpotable water, which was likely infected by the Spurlings. Therefore, factually, it isn't his fault, and should be blue.

However, Xander certainly feels like the weight of his family's death was on his shoulders. His secret quote defines his "feelings of guilt for having survived a catastrophe in which others died," and he says in the Bonus Episode itself that "the worst part of it all was that [he] wasn't there." Technically, Xander's family's death being his fault is subjective-- no matter what Unnamed Student says, we can never know for sure that he couldn't have done something if he was there. He is an Ultimate, after all. For those reasons, I felt like maybe the immense emotional connection for Xander should make those words purple.

But then I thought, if the secret was supposed to reflect Xander's beliefs, it would say that the incident was his fault. The writer breaks form in this secret. As opposed to Arturo, Hu, and possibly Min (we don't technically know how she feels about the incident, but I'd imagine that she would agree it went too far), instead of judging the secret's owner in a way that appears to mirror the way that they judge themselves, the writer goes against what Xander would say of himself, injecting their own opinion. That's weird.

Of course, I could definitely be blowing this out of proportion. It could just be that Xander acknowledges that, factually, the incident was not his fault, and therefore he would actually agree with the "it's not your fault." Furthermore, the writer still follows this up with the "just that you didn't go with them," which matches with their usual judgmental attitude. They can't be that soft on Xander when they're still saying it would have been better if he died.

Still. You'd think that the writer would want to play up Xander's insecurities that he was at fault for his family's deaths. If Xander were alive and the motive had been handled properly, Xander would have picked up a paper that told him that his family's deaths were explicitly not his fault. Is that really what MonoTV would have wanted?

David

"You exist to manipulate others. Everyone else exists to be taken advantage of."

You might be surprised to see David's secret all the way down here, given how relatively simple it is. Just like Charles' secret, it's two pretty blunt statements, and it's all written in one color. The difference is that literally nothing in this secret is objective fact.

Disregarding 1) any arguments of determinism ("David was always destined to be a manipulator because he has no free will") and 2) the possibility that this is a soft confirmation of DRDT being in-universe fictional characters ("David was always destined to be a manipulator because he, as a character, is reading his scripted lines"), there is genuinely no way to historically or scientifically verify anything that's said in these secrets. It's based on emotions and emotions alone.

But, whose emotions are they? David certainly believes this to some extent, given that his admission that he's a "lying, manipulative, scumbaggy piece of shit." The sentence "everyone else exists to be taken advantage of" is really aggressive, and, in combination with his Ch2 heel turn, it's very easy (and potentially correct) to believe that these are David's home-brewed feelings.

However, keep in mind the writer's propensity for intentionally stirring up the secret holder's most hurtful thoughts (like Hu) and things they'd rather forget (like Arturo). There's nothing in the secret itself that tells us that David enjoys being destined to be a manipulator, even if he believes in that idea.

David: You were right. I'm a good for nothing liar. But I call those lies "motivational speeches" and everyone eats it up.

Much like how the secret itself could be David's opinion or someone else's, we don't know which parties hold the opinion that David is a "good for nothing."

Look, I'm not trying to say that David has done nothing wrong in his entire life, even if villain apologism is my side hustle. I just think it's important to ask ourselves what entity is declaring this secret as "fact," considering that nothing about it is actually provable. At the very least, it's sure hard to accurately tell the group the exact contents of your secret when it's not based on anything factual.

Arei: Why did you lie about your secret? David: I'm sorry? I don't quite understand.

(Can you tell I was convinced to finally put this theory to paper whilst working on a David analysis...?)

On that note, though, I'll leave further speculation about David for another post, lest I go too far down the rabbit hole here. I just think there's a lot of room for interpretation when it comes to the manipulator secret.

Teruko

"How could I even select what secret to make your motive? Just about everything you've done in your life is worth killing for. The killing game is all your fault."

And, surprising no one, Teruko's secret is at the very bottom. I don't even know where to start with this one.

We'll start at the beginning, I suppose-- Min's secret has one of the most obvious examples of the writer injecting their own opinion into the secret's text; this is the other. They even both have rhetorical questions! Twinsies :D

The first sentence has legit nothing to do with the "factual" contents of the secret at all. The entire sentence is 100% the writer's opinion. They even refer to themselves with the "I" pronoun!!! And the second sentence isn't much better. What's regarded as "worth killing for" is entirely up to the reader's opinion, and "just about" is incredibly vague. Is what Teruko's done 80% worth killing for? 90%? 100%, with a single exception?

I've also always thought that "killing for" was a weird choice. It should be "killing over," right? Killing for is like, "oh, I'd kill for a sandwich." Generally, it's seen as a positive thing, something you really want. If Teruko's life is worth killing for, that would put Teruko's life in place of the sandwich (lol). AKA, "oh, I'd kill for Teruko's life." Given what we know of Teruko's life-- that she's faced being orphaned, poverty, extreme injuries and more-- it's hard to imagine that anyone would willingly want that for themselves.

However, there are two ways I thought of to explain the word choice that don't involve assuming that the phrasing got messed up. The first is that the writer really covets Teruko's capacity to survive. As Teruko herself told us, she's the Lucky Student, so she can't die. "Kill for" could indicate that, despite all of the hardships Teruko has faced, the writer still believes that Teruko's constitution makes her life enviable and/or desirable.

The other is the more literal interpretation: that whatever Teruko has done has made others want to kill on her behalf. We already saw this once with Min, who felt compelled to attack Xander if it meant potentially saving Teruko's life. There's also our usual throughline from Prologue Hands Guy that ending the killing game and killing Teruko might be linked. Therefore, conversely, if there's anyone out there who's interested in the continuation of the killing game(s)-- XF-Ture Tech?-- it might stand to reason that they would be willing to kill in order to keep Teruko alive.

Both of these interpretations struggle with the lead-in of "just about everything you've done in your life," though. It's because both of them directly relate to Teruko's luck, which to me seems less like what she's done and more like who she is. But, the origins of Teruko's luck are undefined enough that I don't think I can use that to shoot either possibility down.

On to "the killing game is all your fault." I was tempted to make this sentence entirely pink, due to how likely it seems that this sentence is overexaggerated. Teruko is still a totally viable mastermind choice, to be clear. There are a lot of things that become a whole lot more convenient if Teruko is the mastermind, this secret included. However, if Teruko were a self-aware, despair-loving mastermind, why would she put a secret basically accusing her of such into the killing game?

You could argue that, if MonoTV were competent, no one would have seen this secret other than Teruko herself. It's still kinda weird to write that down for herself, though. It would have been a lot safer to just leave the secret off at "How could I even select what secret to make your motive? Just about everything you've done in your life is worth killing for." And, I don't think anyone who happened to see the secret would think too much of it. Perhaps Teruko wanted others to know she was the mastermind? If that were the case, why not correctly claim her secret when David asked her in 2-13?

(Once again, I really hope I'm right about this secret being Teruko's.)

In the end, I decided to just flag the "all" as being the writer's opinion, as an endeavor as grand and complicated as the killing game surely has more than one thing behind it. Every canon killing game, despite having a main instigator, had many other individuals aiding in its creation. And, the writer clearly has a vendetta against Teruko in this secret, so I'd be more surprised if they weren't overexaggerating her involvement to some degree.

However, "the killing game is your fault" remains in blue, even though we can't verify it to be true at the moment. If you recall, at the top, I decided to make the assumption that all of the secrets were true to at least some level, and this is where that kicks in for Teruko. Plus, if the writer (who is quite possibly the mastermind) believes that the killing game is at least partially Teruko's fault, then that's likely the case, no?

What Did We Learn?

Now that we're done with all of the secrets, let's turn it back to see if we can figure anything out about the writer. The ways in which secrets were handled can kinda be broken into tiers, like this:

Charles, Rose, Whit, and J all had 100% factual truth.

Arei, Levi, and Eden had some factual truth and some flavored truth, but the emotional truth was pretty easily verified as correct.

Ace, Nico, and Veronika had a mix of factual truth and flavored truth in a way where it was harder to parse what was feeling or fact.

Arturo, Hu, Min, and Xander had some factual truth, some flavored truth, and some forced opinion, all of which had some elements of assigning blame.

David and Teruko were struggling to present anything certifiably factual at all.

Meanwhile, if we try to categorize the secrets themselves:

Levi, Arturo, Min, and David all had secrets regarding harming others.

Ace, Veronika, and Hu all had secrets regarding harming themselves.

Rose, J, Arei, Charles, Whit, Arturo, and Xander all had secrets about their families, with the latter four relating to dead family members. (Levi also technically counts for this, but it's not explicitly mentioned in the secret.)

Eden and Nico have secrets relating to their identities and the crises they face because of them.

Teruko has a secret that's hard to define :/

What does this tell us? Well, honestly, not much. All of the people in the "straight facts" tier have secrets that relate to their families in non-violent ways, but that may just mean that the lower-stakes secrets were harder to dramatize. Everyone who dealt with a negative effect on a large group of people (Min with the competition, Xander with his large family and by extension town, David with... everyone, Teruko with those in a killing game) is near the bottom of the ranking, but it also follows that those with more grave secrets would face further scrutiny for it.

There's nothing as simple as "everyone whose secret referred to a death was harshly judged" or "everyone who harmed themselves was treated more kindly." Therefore, we can't really assign any of those straightforward beliefs to the writer. Alas.

However, assume with me for a moment that 1) the mastermind is the one who personally wrote out the secrets and 2) the mastermind of the killing game is one of its 16 contestants. Nothing too crazy, but those are both (kind of) assumptions.

(I know that, technically, MonoTV said "the real mastermind is one of you" at the end of the Prologue, which would mean that one of the 16 students has been confirmed to be the mastermind. However, I personally don't believe that's necessarily the case. You can read more about that in Mai's section of my (albeit outdated) Mastermind Ranking, if you wish.)

If the secret-writer is a mastermind hidden amongst the cast, that means that they must have written a secret about themselves. Which category would be the most likely category to find our mastermind in?

Well, the obvious answer is in the top tier, as they're the least suspicious. If you want to fly under the radar, give yourself a secret that won't be the talk of the town if it comes out of the bag. Veronika has already primed us to recognize that someone's secret doesn't have to be the worst thing they've ever done, which could be foreshadowing that we'll later learn that the mastermind's secret works the same.

In terms of the mastermind's specific identity, it's also interesting to consider which secrets had the most information packed into them. Most-if-not-all of these students attended Hope's Peak together as friends for a little while, but some were certainly closer than others. All of the secrets are secret, naturally, but to write a secret like David's, you have to know a lot about how his mind works, which implies closeness. The secrets that include something about how their owner thought or felt-- the "why," so to speak-- include Levi's, Eden's, Veronika's, Xander's, and David's. Conversely, you largely don't need to know anything about how Charles, Rose, Whit, J, Arei, Ace, or Nico thought or felt about their various circumstances, just that they happened. Arturo, Hu, Min, and Teruko are in sort of a weird place where the secret seems to reveal how they felt, but could also just be the writer feeling the same way.

In terms of the ones where you don't need to know anything, the results are a toss-up. You could argue that, if Whit were the mastermind, he could have hurt Charles way worse than he theoretically did, but you could also argue that Charles' secret was left more vague on purpose as a form of protection/favoritism.

However, the fact remains that, somehow, the person who wrote the secrets had to at least get into Levi, Eden, Veronika, Xander, and David's brains in order to transcribe how they felt about doing their various deeds. Who knows those five super well? Honestly, my first thought was Teruko, but it's also undeniable that a talent like David's or Whit's would lend itself well to understanding how others' minds work. And, of course, there's Mai, whose main talent thus far seems to be understanding others.

As a final note, I want to list a couple of secrets that I feel have anti-mastermind energy. Secrets you read and ask, "now, why would that person have written and released this information about themselves?" The level to which this is the case varies, but I'm going to include everyone I had the thought for. These people include:

Whit. Why would he tell everyone about a truth he prefers to omit?

J. Same thing: if she doesn't want everyone knowing she's Mariabella's daughter, why would she make that her secret? Why would she even create the opportunity for someone else to read that?

Eden. Less so than others (as, if she's in a supportive crowd, she might want this secret to get out), but if she's afraid of how people will treat her after learning she's a lesbian, why would she say it?

Nico. Same as Eden, basically.

Arturo. He really seems to want to forget this. Unless he's a mascohist-ermind (Ellis, is that you? /j /ref), I don't know why he'd remind himself, especially with such strong wording.

Teruko. Again, assuming she wants to keep this under wraps, why release that secret into the world?

You could also count Charles and/or Levi for this category. However, I decided that just because they seemingly forgot about the contents of their secret wouldn't mean that they would have no motivation to write it, which is really what I was judging.

Sorry if that wasn't as conclusive as you were hoping for! (/gen) If it were more conclusive, I probably would have made the theory earlier, or someone else would have had the same thought. As we learn more about the secrets in future installments like whether the Teruko/Xander swap thing is actually correct, these are the sorts of questions that I want to be keeping in mind.

And, of course, please take this analysis with a grain of salt! I always assume that everything in DRDT is 100% accurate to real-world logic because I really respect DRDTdev's storytelling. However, much like my note content analysis, I understand that going so far as to say "Charles can't be the mastermind because there's no way he'd know about how Veronika felt about her self harm" is quite possibly going too far. The most important facet of the secrets is that they made for an interesting story development, which they did! Any logic about how the in-universe secret-writer found out this information is just a cherry on top. But inspecting those cherries for quality is what we get up to 'round these parts.

Thank you for reading! And hopefully I'll find the time to write more DRDT stuff in the near future :)

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loveesiren · 2 months ago

Text

Doing It All For Us (Pt. 11)

Masterlist

Rafe Cameron x Reader

Summary: Rafe and Y/n find out more about their baby while trying to distance themselves from the crime.

Warnings: Language

Word Count: 4k+

It'd been a few weeks since the cops chased John B and Sarah out into the storm. They were presumed dead.

People were talking. The rumor that it had actually been Rafe that had killed Peterkin was circling around the island but there was no evidence to prove it. And going after the Cameron's, especially after they'd just lost their daughter, was not a good look.

Even more so, you were showing now. Elliot Y/L/N's daughter was bearing Rafe Cameron's child. Needless to say, you and Rafe had protection.

However, that didn't stop the sideways stares you received attending Sheriff Peterkin's funeral. Or the way Topper and Kelce had slowly distanced themselves from the two of you.

"Did he do it?" Courtney had asked you as you sat across from her in her bed.

You answered with your eyes. You couldn't lie to her. But you couldn't say it out loud.

She nodded. The lack of words exchanged kept her safe. Kept Rafe safe. But she knew. She'd never say a word though. She loved you. She loved Rafe. And she loved the baby that would need both of it's parents.

You gripped Rafe's hand tightly as the doctor scanned your ultrasound.

"5 months! Good weight, looking healthy as can be." The doctor says. "Would you like to know the sex?"

You smile widely at his words. You could see Rafe shaking with anticipation. "Yes, please!"

"Well, Miss Y/L/N. People will owe you a lot of money. It's a boy."

You squeal with excitement and you watch as Rafe tries to contain himself, wanting nothing more than to jump around the room and cheer.

You knew from the beginning. You always knew. Call it mother's intuition. Mother. The term felt so real now.

Rafe kneels down beside you, placing kisses all over your swollen belly. You giggle at the sensation.

"I'll give you two a minute." The doctor smiles. "When you're ready, just head to the front desk and schedule your next appointment."

Rafe looked up at you, tears streaming down his cheeks. You laugh but couldn't help the tears spilling from your eyes as well.

"I can't believe this is real." He whispers against your skin. "You still want to name him after me?"

"Of course I do! Wolf's been his name since the beginning. It's who he is. I can tell. I'm his mom." You tease, getting used to referring to yourself as that.

Rafe presses a deep kiss to your lips before trailing the rest of your face with kisses. He'd never been so happy in his life.

Rafe gushed about your future the whole ride back to Tannyhill. About the house he was going to buy you, about colors for the nursery, about all the sports he was going to teach Wolf.

You smiled the whole way, admiring the smile on his face at the thought of his son.

When you pulled into the driveway Rafe quickly hopped out to come retrieve you. You chuckled as he pulled you inside, clutching the ultrasound pictures tightly.

"Dad! Rose! Wheeze!" He yelled.

"What's going on?" Wheezie asked, poking her head out of the living room.

"Where's dad and Rose?"

"We're right here," Rose said as her and Ward enter the foyer. "Is everything okay?"

Rafe excitedly passed out the pictures, smile wide on his face. "It's a boy!"

"Oh my God!" Wheezie squealed.

Rafe pulled you to his chest and squeezed you tightly. You were at pure bliss with how happy he was. You hadn't seen him like this in so long.

Ward was still grieving the loss of Sarah but you caught the genuine smile break across his face as he stared at the picture of his soon to be grandson. "Shit," He mumbled, running his fingers over the scruff coating his face. Rafe looked at his father hopefully. "This is-wow. Congratulations, son."

Rafe smiled. "Thanks, dad."

"You guys are gonna be great parents." Rose cooed, pulling you into a hug.

"Do you have any names for him?" Wheezie asked hopefully.

"We do, actually." You say, earning Ward's attention away from the photo in his hands.

Rafe smiles even bigger, you swear he was going to bruise his cheeks with how much he was smiling.

"Rafe-" You begin. "Rafe means Counsel of the Wolves. So we're naming him Wolf. Wolf Cameron."

"What? That's so cool!" Wheezie says. "Holy shit, I'm gonna be an aunt!"

"Language, Wheeze!" Rose scolds.

"Your, uh...your mother named you. I didn't know that was the meaning." Ward said softly, almost disappointed in himself for not knowing that.

"Thought he should have a strong name," You start, wrapping your arms around Rafe's waist and looking up at him. "Like his daddy."

Rafe was an absolute mess of pure bliss.

"Okay, uh..." Rafe says, running his fingers through his hair manically. "I have to take you out tonight. Wherever you want. Whatever you and Wolf are hungry for."

"Oh, let us cook!" Wheezie says. "Please?!"

You glance at her and Rose. They both seemed eager to make a special dinner for the two of you.

Rafe looks at you, eager to know what you want to do. You were beginning to feel overwhelmed.

"Uhm, yeah Wheeze! That sounds good! Italian?" You offer.

"On it!" Wheezie says, running to the kitchen.

"You two go rest." Rose smiles. "Rafe, breathe."

You notice the way Wheezie and Rose pin your ultrasound photos to the fridge. You also notice the way Ward stuffs his in his pocket.

"Uh, Y/N. I have something for you." Ward says as he walks back to his office. You and Rafe follow slowly. Ward picks an envelope off his desk and hands it to you. "From your father."

Your breath hitches. You'd written your dad a while ago to tell him the news but you hadn't heard back. You were at the Cameron's so often you had just sent the letter from there. "Thanks," You say, taking the letter from him warily. You had no idea what your father's reaction would be and you knew Ward would be eager to know.

You and Rafe head up to his room. You still had a few more photos from the ultrasound and you watched as Rafe propped one up on his nightstand, smiling down at it. It made your heart flutter.

You sat on the bed and sighed, staring at the letter. Rafe sat behind you, pulling you into him. The feeling of his arms around you calmed your nerves.

You ran your nail under the envelope to open it. You took a deep breath as you unfolded the letter.

Y/N,

Wow. It's so good to hear from you. Although, that was not the news I was expecting to get. Pregnant. I'll be honest, I went through a range of emotions at first. One of them being the urge to strangle Rafe. But I talked to some of the people here. They are really great. They helped me realize that you are an adult. You won't always be my little girl.

You are so much like your mother, and because of that, I know that you will be a great mother. And I know Rafe will be a great father. I trust he is taking good care of you. I trust that all the Cameron's are. I pray you're staying clean. For yourself and your new little family. I know you can do it. You're strong. You just have to put your strength to use in the right places.

I hate to do it, but I will be staying for a few more months. I miss you and I wish so badly I was there with you, but this experience has really opened my eyes and I just don't feel like I am ready to leave yet. But when I come back I will be a better father and grandfather. I can't tell you how excited I am to meet him or her.

Take care of yourself. I love you. Talk soon.

Dad

You stared at the letter with a lack of emotions. You knew they were there somewhere but you just couldn't bring yourself to feel them. You'd built up a wall. Of course he was staying longer. You weren't surprised. I mean, good for him right? It's what he needs. At least he is happy for you and not grabbing the first flight home to murder Rafe.

You fold the letter up and set it to the side. "You okay?" Rafe asks.

"Mhmm," You say. "I'm really sleepy. Can we nap?"

"Of course, my love."

Rafe gets up and shuts the blinds in his room before crawling back into bed beside you. He wraps his arm around you and tucks his hand under your shirt, trailing his fingers over your belly.

"Shit!" You hiss and grab your stomach.

"What? Are you okay? What happened?!" Rafe asks.

You chuckle. "Nothing, babe, I'm fine. He's just kicking." You reassure him. "Here, feel." You guide Rafe's hand to the spot where a tiny foot was thumping against your inner belly.

"Holy shit," Rafe smiles. "That's our son." His voice was so soft, so absolutely entranced by the movements inside you.

You smile, enjoying the little jolts inside your stomach as Rafe caressed you skin.

You woke up around 7pm to Rafe bringing you a plate of chicken alfredo.

"Oh shit," You mutter, sitting up and rubbing your eyes. "I forgot Wheezie and Rose were cooking for us."

"It's okay, baby. I told them you were really tired. We can just eat in here and watch a movie."

You smile, taking the plate from him. You were grateful for their efforts but you don't think you'd be able to make it downstairs without falling asleep.

You lazily ate your food as Jurassic Park played on the tv. You were starving but you could barely keep your eyes open. You managed to finish your food and set your plate on the night stand before pulling yourself out of bed and stumbling to the bathroom.

You peed and chugged a glass of water before stumbling back and collapsing in bed.

"Back to bed, my angel? Did you eat enough?"

"Mhmm," You groan. "Shhh, I go sleep now."

Rafe giggled and placed a kiss on your head, instantly shipping you off to dreamland once again. Pregnancy made you tired.

"Rafe,"

Rafe snaps awake to find Ward standing in the dark of his room.

"What? What is it?" He asked sleepily, looking over at you to make sure you were still asleep.

"I need your help." Ward said.

Rafe slowly climbed out of bed, careful not to wake you, and followed his dad outside.

"I need you to keep quiet and stay calm okay?" Ward said.

"Yeah, okay." Rafe responded nervously.

Ward pulled back the cover on the truck to reveal a large bag.

"W-what is that?"

"It's a body, son."

"Oh my God." Rafe says, losing control of his breathing. "Oh my God, it's a body? Whose body is it?"

"It doesn't matter."

"What do you mean it doesn't matter? My girlfriend is upstairs! Whose body is it, dad?!

"It's Gavin!" Ward hisses, slapping his hand over Rafe's mouth.

Rafe pulls back. "Gavin? The pilot? W-why? What'd he do?"

"He was trying to blackmail us. He had the gun that you used to kill Peterkin. I told him to throw it over the ocean on the way to the Bahamas but he didn't. He kept it." Ward explained.

Rafe's eyes were wide with anxiety.

"He was going to turn you in, Rafe. I couldn't let that happen. Not when-" Ward sighs. "Not with Wolf on the way..."

Rafe eyed his father for a moment before glancing back to the body. "He said you were a psychopath, Rafe, and that he wasn't going to jail for you. Now can you please help me carry him to the boat."

Rafe took a deep breath, absorbing all the information. Gavin was a threat. Ward took care of him. Just like Rafe took care of Peterkin. A dead witness meant a safe place for him and his family.

"I got the head." He says.

You woke up to an empty space beside you. You frowned, hoping Rafe was just downstairs.

You reached for your phone and scrolled through your messages.

Rafe: Gotta take care of some business. I'll be back later. I love you more than life.

You sighed. You knew it wasn't work related business.

You open the next message.

Courtney: Wanna kick it?

You smile. You needed to get out of the house and do something.

Please. You respond.

You get up and go to Rafe's bathroom, pulling open your drawer where you kept your make up, tampons, moisturizer, and all the other shit you could possibly need when you stay at his house. Although you had your own drawer, lashes and hair ties and glitter still took up most of his bathroom counter.

You get to work on your face, opting for a simple make up look since you and Courtney planned to spend the day getting your nails done and shopping for Wolf.

Here, bitch

You smile, checking yourself in the mirror one more time before heading downstairs.

You hop in Courtney's car and hold up your nails. "Take me to the salon right fucking now. This should be illegal!"

Courtney examined your pink claws in desperate need for a rebase. "Atleast you still have all yours. I'm missing three!"

Courtney backs out of Tannyhill and makes her way to town. "Soooo?" She asks. "How was the doctor yesterday? Did you find out what you're having?!"

You look over at her and smile. "It's a boy."

"I FUCKING KNEW IT!" Courtney screams. "YAYAYAYAYAY!!!"

"We're naming him Wolf." You smile.

"Oh my God that's so fucking cute!!! Where'd you come up with that?"

"Naming him after Rafe. He's absolutely over the moon."

Courtney beams over at you. "I still can't believe you guys are having a baby. Really never thought I'd see the day you or Rafe Cameron settled down."

"I wouldn't exactly say we're settled." You laugh.

"Where is Rafe anyways?"

You shrug. "Said he was taking care of some business. I don't really want to know to be honest."

Courtney nods and decides not to press it further. The two of you go to the salon. You opt for white toenails to bring out your tan and glittery gold coffin nails for your fingers. You felt like a new person as you walked around town, looking at the cute baby items all the shops had. You couldn't believe you were spending a Saturday shopping for a baby instead of getting fucked up on the beach. But you wouldn't have it any other way.

"Yo, is that Rafe and Barry?" Courtney asked suddenly as the two of you made your way down the street.

You look up to see Rafe and Barry fucking with the water system. "What the fuck..." You whisper to yourself before heading towards them. "What are you two doing?"

Rafe and Barry turn to look at you at you and Courtney. "Uuhhhh..."

"You better not try to lie to me right now, Rafe Cameron." You said sternly.

Rafe knew better than to lie. He took your arm and pulled you to the side. "My dad lost the gun..." He stated quietly.

"The one-"

"Yes." He cut you off. "He dropped it down the sewer by accident. We're trying to get it back."

Before you could respond your heard the sound of echoing voices.

"Guys! There's something dead in here!"

You and Rafe walked closer to the sound.

"Is it Gavin?! Do you see the gun?!"

The fucking Pogues.

"They're in the sewer." Rafe states.

"Shit..." You hear Courtney say.

Rafe turns back to Barry. "Flush 'em out."

"You flush that pipe, you gonna kill the rat." Barry warns.

"Yeah." Rafe's voice was confident.

"The last thing you need is more dead bodies showin' up around this bitch."

"If you're gonna be a pussy then you can leave." Rafe says.

"Do you not realize what you are doing, bruh?"

You and Courtney watch as Barry and Rafe stare at eachother for a moment.

"Get the hell out of the way." Rafe finally says. Barry does as he's told and leaves. The three of you standing in silence. You glance at Courtney.

"I'll go get the car," She said. "Be ready."

Courtney walks off towards the car and you turn to Rafe. "They all know?"

He bites his lip and nods.

"Okay. Drown 'em." You tell him. You tried not to think about the murderous path you had joined Rafe on, but you needed to protect your family. These Pogues were going to try to take him down and you couldn't let that happen.

Rafe smiles at you and you smile back. He begins turning the wheel and you watch as water begins to bubble out of the manhole. You listen closely for the voices.

"Guys! The water!" You can hear Kiara yell. "Guys, help!!"

You laugh. "Got 'em."

Courtney pulls up quickly and you and Rafe jump in her car. She speeds off towards Figure Eight, leaving the Pogues to drown in the sewer system.

You stared out at the moonlight hitting the water while Rafe and Ward talked.

"I looked for it everywhere, I swear to God." Rafe said.

"I know, I know. I'm not mad at you."

"Listen, if those Pogues got the gun we can just say John B stole it, yeah?"

"Yeah, yeah I mean he lived at the house." Ward responded. "He's a known thief. Absolutely, yes."

You turn to Rafe. He holds out his arm for you and pulls you close to him. You remained quiet while him and Ward talked. You were as much a part of this now as they both were. There was no way you'd be kept out of the loop and they knew that. Even though you were pregnant, you still possessed all the crazy that Rafe did and now that the two of you were expecting, it fueled your fire even more, ready to do absolutely anything to take care of your baby.

"Listen, guys..." Ward begins. "I have to fly to the Bahamas tomorrow. Will you-will you guys go with me?"

Rafe looks at you and you smile your approval. "Yeah, yes sir."

"Good. It will be good to get you guys out of here. And honestly, I feel like I need someone to have my back."

"I got that. All day." Rafe says.

Ward looks at Rafe with love in his eyes. An expression you barely ever see from him. "You do, don't you?"

Rafe smiles. The smile only you and his dad are able to pull out of him. It makes your heart melt.

"Are you okay to fly?" Ward asks you.

"Yeah. I'll be good." You say with a smile.

"Okay. I'll see you two in the morning."

"You sure you're okay to go, sweet girl?" Rafe asks once his dad disappears down the dock.

You felt your hormones take over suddenly and you couldn't help the sob that escaped your lips.

"Baby girl, what's wrong?!" Rafe asked, pulling you into his chest.

"I just-I just want to be with you." You cry. "All the time. I hate when I'm not with you."

"I'm right here, baby. I'm not going anywhere."

"This is just all so overwhelming, Rafe. I just want you to be okay. I'm so scared."

Rafe kneels down in front of you, holding your hips and placing kisses to your belly. He looks up at you. "I'm okay, baby girl. I'm going to make sure everything is okay. I'm going to take care of you and Wolfie, okay?"

You stare down at him through watery eyes and nod, running your fingers through his hair.

"Nothing will take apart our family. I promise." He tells you.

You smile. He smiles back, standing up and pressing his lips to yours. "Let's go pack, baby."

You practically want to kiss the ground when you touch down in Nassau. You were puking the entire plane ride. Rafe holding your hair back over a bucket while Ward flew the plain. You had no morning sickness your entire pregnancy but as soon as you were in the air you could not hold on to your stomach.

Once you got into the truck and rolled the windows down you felt a thousand times better. Ward stopped and picked up some sandwiches which you were grateful for because you had absolutely nothing in your stomach.

When you pulled up to the Cameron's Bahama house you were more than excited to go inside and lay down.

"I'm sorry this trip's been so hard, baby." Rafe says sadly as he helps you out of the car.

"It's okay. I'm just glad we're here." You say, lacing your fingers through his and resting the other hand on your baby bump.

"I didn't just bring you guys here because I need your help." Ward says. "I want to show you guys something."

Ward walks over to the large safe he had built into the wall. "You ready?"

You hold Rafe's hand tightly. "What you got in there? The Hope Diamond?" Rafe chuckles.

Ward smiles and opens the door to the safe. Your jaw drops at the sight. Gold. A lot. Of fucking. Gold.

"Is that real?" Rafe asks.

"Son, that's the realest thing there is." Ward says. He grabs two blocks of gold and hands one to each of you.

You gasp at the weight of it in your hands.

"You found..." Rafe begins. "You found the Royal Merchant?"

"Holy shit," You whispered.

"That's what all this has been about. The shit with John B, his dad, Peterkin. It's what Elliot and I worked out. All this gold, it's ours now. It can't bring your sister back, but it can save us."

"Jesus," Rafe whispers, you look up at him in awe.

"When Agatha hit we were in a financial hole, a deep one. Now we're not."

"How much are we looking at here?" You ask as you eye the gold.

"Half a billion." Ward responds.

You drop the gold to the floor as you turn to look at him. "Half-half a billion?"

Ward chuckles, picking the gold bar up off the ground.

"Oh, my God." Rafe says. "Holy shit!" He skips to the back porch. "Whoo! Haha! Dad what?! How is this even possible, huh?!"

You could feel a tear escape your eye as you laughed. You were set for life. I mean shit, you already were, but now you really were. You and Rafe could get a place of your own, you'd be able to send Wolf to college. The world was literally yours.

"Rafe look at me, look." Ward says, grabbing Rafe's shoulders. "I'm hard on you, Rafe. I'm real hard on you. That day on the tarmac. This is what was on the cargo plane." Ward says, holding up a piece of gold. "You were the only reason we were able to fly that out."

You look over at them, watching Rafe absorb his father's words.

"You, Rafe. Without you, no gold."

You walk over to them, pulling them both into a hug.

"You guys will be set. Wolf will be set for life. We wouldn't have this gold without the two of you." Ward says.

Rafe turns and wraps his arms fully around you, picking you up and twirling you around. Ward smiles at the sight of you two.

You giggle in Rafe's arms, pressing a deep kiss to his lips when he sets you down.

"You two go get some rest. We're flying this out first thing in the morning." Ward says, patting Rafe on the back. "You feeling okay, Y/N?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm great. Thank you for this." You say to Ward.

"Wouldn't have been able to do it without your dad's help." Ward smiles. "Now go. Figure out what school my grandson will be attending."

You chuckle and offer a smile.

"Thanks, dad." Rafe says before grabbing both your bags and heading upstairs, pulling you along with him.

He brings you to his room of the Bahama house. It was gorgeous. Gold assets and a large double door that lead out to a patio facing the ocean. It looked like a hotel room at the Versace mansion.

You and Rafe were all smiles. "We're set, baby." Rafe says as the two of you lay down on his bed. "We're fucking set."

You laugh. You couldn't believe how fucking set you were. "I fucking love you, Rafe."

"Marry me." He says quickly, but meaningfully. As if the question, or the demand, has been in his head forever. "Please. Please, marry me."

You look over at him in shock.

"I will buy you the prettiest ring. I promise. I just want..." He starts, turning towards you and cupping your cheek. "I want you to be my wife."

You place your hand over his and smile. "Of course I'll marry you, Rafe."

That sets off his big ass grin. "Really?"

"Yes. YES!" You say excitedly.

Rafe rolls you over, pressing a harsh kiss to your lips as he hovers over you. "I'm gonna put another baby in you now." He whispers against your lips.

"I don't think it works like that," You giggle.

"I'm gonna try anyways," He says, reaching under your dress and ripping your panties off.