#"southern f

[simplyholl]

Home For Christmas

Summary: When your mom puts pressure on you to bring a boyfriend home for Christmas, you turn to Bucky for help.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Southern F. Reader

Warnings: Reader is Southern. Smut. 18+ ONLY. Minors DNI. Fake dating. Maybe a little blasphemous? Fingering in a church. Getting fucked by a peppermint stick.

*A/N: I am Southern. I couldn’t get the idea of bringing Bucky home to the South for Christmas out of my head so this was born. Sorry if this is shit. I’m just getting back into writing again.

Mammaw = grandma

Pappaw = grandpa

^^ this is the peppermint sticks I’m talking about in the fic. I don’t know what they are really called.

See My Masterlist Here

The compound was bustling with Avengers and employees getting ready for the holidays. Everyone was going home or leaving with another member of the team. Everyone except for Bucky. He was quiet and kept to himself most of the time.

He is a grumpy asshole usually, so you just avoided him. You didn’t blame him for his behavior, you’d be the same if you were tortured and brainwashed by Hydra for decades. But the thought of him being alone in the huge, empty walls of the Avenger Compound pulled at your heartstrings. You couldn't leave without extending an invitation to him. There was an ulterior motive too. You were nice but he was a lot to deal with. He was sitting alone in the common room, reading a book when you approach him.

"Hey, do you have a minute?" You ask, looking a little weary as you walk towards him. He raises an eyebrow, locating his bookmark and placing it inside his book as he closes it. "So I know we aren’t exactly friends, but I couldn't leave without asking. Do you want to spend Christmas with me and my family?" Bucky's eyebrows furrow together as he looks at you. "You're serious?" He asks, resting his chin on his fist.

You nod your head, waiting for his answer. "Why would I want to do that?" It was a fair question; one you had even expected. "I just thought you might want to have some company, have a home cooked meal. Nobody should have to spend Christmas alone." He looks at you suspiciously, “What’s the catch?”

You bite your lip, damn he was good at reading you. “Okay, you got me. So my momma has been hounding me about finding a nice man and settling down. Which is crazy. I’m an Avenger and that’s not enough for her. But she is dead set on grand babies and planning a wedding. So I might have lied and told her I had a boyfriend to get her off my back. I also might have told her I’d be bringing him home with me. So, if you come with me maybe you could help me out and pretend to be my boyfriend?”

Bucky laughs, a low gutteral sound escaping him. “No way in hell, princess.” He smirks. “I’ll stay here, order takeout, and get a break from all of you idiots. Why would I want to go home with you and play the part of your doting boyfriend? We barely talk.” You sigh. He made a good point. And if the shoe was on the other foot, you wouldn’t want to help him either.

But you were desperate. You didn’t want to disappoint your mom. She was really excited that you had a serious boyfriend. So you sink to your knees in front of Bucky, putting on the biggest pouty face you could muster. You bat your eyelashes and try to work up a few tears, but they wouldn’t come. “Please Bucky, I’m begging you. I’ll do anything.”

You look into his blue eyes hoping this would work. There had to be something he wanted. Then you saw it, a little flicker of something in his eyes. “Anything?” He asks with a smirk. “Yes. Name it and it’s yours. I’ll do your laundry for a month. I’ll scrub your suit after missions. I’ll cook all your meals. Whatever you want.”

Bucky smiles wolfishly at you, his flesh hand coming up to your face. He cups your cheek, looking into your eyes before dropping his gaze down to your lips. His thumb rubs against your bottom lip as he holds his gaze on you. “So I go home with you, spend Christmas with your family and pretend I’m your boyfriend?”

“Yes, my very serious boyfriend who could pop the question at any time.” I add making sure he knew what I expected. “Fine, I’ll do it.” You look a little surprised but quickly hide it. You thought it would take more convincing. “But I want boyfriend privileges.”

“What does that mean?” You ask, a confused expression on your face. “It means if I’m going to pretend to be your boyfriend I get to enjoy everything a boyfriend would, including having sex with you.” He smirks. Your eyes go wide. “You want to have sex with me? You don’t even like me.”

“You’re right. But I want you. If you want me to play the part then that’s my condition.” You don’t have to think about it, not really. You have eyes. Bucky is a handsome man. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to sleep with him too. But you didn’t want him to know you were eager so you pretended like you were thinking about his offer. Instead you were thinking about his metal hand wrapped around your throat. “Deal.” You stick your hand out to him and he shakes it.

You were an idiot. That was the only explanation you had. You were five hours into a ten and a half hour car ride. The gps kept adding minutes to the trip and traffic was crazy. You should have booked a flight, but you wanted to drive. Now, you were dealing with an aggravated super soldier who was cussing the other drivers on the interstate. You didn’t dare complain when he went over the speed limit or when he gave the finger as he was passing another car. But you did sneak glances every few seconds at him.

He was so hot all riled up like this. The blue vein in his neck throbbing, the wild look in his eyes, the death grip he had on the steering wheel. You had to hold yourself back from offering to blow him right here in the car.

The trip down south was long and almost torturous. When Bucky wasn’t yelling at the other drivers, he was fighting with you. But you survived. When you see the big sign welcoming you to your home state, you couldn’t contain your excitement. You point out all your old hang outs, telling Bucky stories about your childhood as you drove through your town. Finally, he pulls into your driveway. Your Mom’s, Mammaw’s, and Aunt’s houses were all decorated for Christmas. You loved that they were all neighbors. Most of your family lives pretty close by.

You get out of the car, letting the cool air hit you. You take in your surroundings. The trees were bare from shedding their leaves but it was still beautiful here. Bucky gets out doing the same. You both carry your bags to your old childhood bedroom that your mom had set up to accommodate the two of you. You give Bucky a tour since nobody was home. He stops to look at the big Christmas tree with presents underneath. He looks at the ornaments, turning over one you had made in Sunday School when you were a little girl. He looks like he is about to make some smart ass remark when he freezes.

His eyes land on something and you follow his gaze to the stockings your mom hung up. They were all red velvet with your family’s names embroidered in gold cursive on them. They were all filled to the brim, some candy poking out of the top. Bucky touches one gently, a look of disbelief on his face. Then you see it too. Your mom had gotten him a stocking. It was hung right beside yours. And in the same gold letters as everyone else’s, ‘Bucky’ was on it and it was overflowing more than the others.

“I’ve never had a stocking like this.” He admits quietly. “We were poor and my ma just got us oranges and apples. She would bake a cake and we might get one gift . A toy gun for me, a doll for my sister. Nothing like this.” You grab his flesh hand, rubbing your thumb along the top of it. You’re interrupted when your mom comes in. Her eagle eyes on your hand in Bucky’s, a huge smile on her face.

You run to her, giving her a big hug. “Momma, this is my boyfriend, Bucky.” You gesture to him, and he walks over shaking her hand. “I’m James Barnes, ma’am. But you can call me Bucky.” He flashes her a huge smile and she blushes. You roll your eyes. He was really laying it on thick.

After you caught up with her and Bucky answered all of her questions, you all go over to your Mammaw’s house. She was watching Bonanza on tv. She loves those old western shows. She and Bucky talked for ages about them. Apparently, he was a fan too. You and your mom carried in wood for her stove while he kept her company. “We are gonna have to borrow the neighbor’s wood splitter again. We have almost used up all her chopped wood.” Your mom tells you.

“I can split it.” Bucky offers. You give him a surprised look. “You will?” He nods his head. “Just show me where everything is. I’ll take care of it.” You shrug and take him outside. Showing him where he can bust the wood. You give him a an axe and some old work gloves before heading inside to watch westerns.

After an hour, you go outside to check on him and bring him some water. When you go back in, you find your mom and Mammaw at the window giggling like school girls. “What?” You ask. Your mom motions you over and you look out the window just in time to see Bucky take his black henley off. His muscles are slick with sweat. He swings the axe down forcefully and the muscles in his back move sinfully. Your eyes nearly pop out of your head.

You hear your Mammaw gasp as he continues chopping the wood. Your mom pats you on the back, “You did great, honey.” You giggle, actually giggle. You can’t help it. He looks incredible and you’re glad he came up with the whole sex idea or else you would put your pride aside and beg him to fuck you. He busts the last piece, propping the axe up against the wood pile and heading toward the house. You’ve never seen your Mammaw run so fast to get back in her rocking chair.

You take Bucky to visit your Pappaw. He showed him his gun collection. Which you think was his way of threatening him. Your pappaw sends you out to get lunch for everyone, but keeps Bucky there with him. You’d love to be a fly on the wall. Pappaw is probably giving him the whole ‘what are your intentions with my granddaughter’ talk. When you left, he shook Bucky’s hand and told you he was a fine young man. So their talk must have went well.

The next night, you and Bucky were going with your mom to watch the church Christmas program. That was one thing about your mom, she raised you to be a Southern Baptist and you were expected to go to church if you were home. This time was no different. You put on a long sleeve dress, fix your hair, and put on a little mascara. Bucky is wearing dark jeans and a long sleeve button up. Your sister, her boyfriend, your Mammaw and your Pappaw were all at the church too. They sat on your mom’s usual pew, three up from the back on the left side.

There wasn’t any room for you and Bucky so you sat behind them. The church was unusually full, but they were expecting a lot of people to come. That’s what happens when there’s a Christmas program and a dinner afterward. People loved free food. All the little old ladies you went to church with your whole life came over to gawk at Bucky.

They were giving him peppermints and hard candies from the bottoms of their pocket books. They were hugging him, and feeling his muscles. They all told you how good you had done in getting a man like him. They told him how handsome he was. They pinched his cheeks. And one even pretended like she needed help walking back to her pew. But you had seen her just moments ago running over to scold a child who was trying to stick his finger in the cake she baked for after the program. Bucky took her arm and led her to the front of the church. Her grip on his muscled arm tight the whole time.

Finally the choir started singing and the program begins. You shivered, regretting your decision to not wear tights. The temperature in the church varies. It was either freezing or you were sweating. You grab a blanket off the back of your mom’s pew and laid it on your lap. You scoot closer to Bucky, hoping his body heat would help.

The children get up to start their part of the program. Bucky lifts the blanket and puts it over his left side, his metal hand underneath it. Your breath hitches when you feel the cold metal of his hand on your bare thigh. You look at him questioningly. He smiles and winks then turns his attention back to the children singing. His hand moves higher until it stops at the edge of your panties. Your eyes go wide and you put your hand over his, a silent plea to stop.

He reaches over with his flesh hand and moves your hand away. He moves his cool fingers under your panties, sliding them against your center. He gathers your slick, bringing it up to your clit and swirling his vibranium thumb. You grip his thigh and try to pay attention to the program. He slides two fingers inside you and you bite your lip to stifle the moan that escapes you. You’ve never been more thankful for the kids’ loud off key singing.

You look around to make sure no one is paying attention to you. Thankfully everyone is watching the program or taking pictures of the kids. You lay your head against his shoulder, making it look like you were cuddling your boyfriend enjoying the Christmas show. When you were really just trying to hide your face as it contorts in pleasure. Bucky’s fingers set a brutal pace as his cool thumb worked your clit. It was all too much. How he looked yesterday chopping the wood, how everyone loved him, the way he was taking you apart in the one place he absolutely shouldn’t. One more curl of his fingers and swipe to your clit and you were falling apart on Bucky’s fingers in church with your face buried in his shirt.

Finally your last day home arrived, Christmas Day. Your mom made a huge breakfast that your family came over to eat. Then you sat in front of the tree to open presents. You all started with your stockings. Truthfully, you were more excited to watch Bucky open his than to see what was in yours. He dumped it out. Candy, chocolates, candy canes, all kinds of treats spilled on the floor. Bucky’s whole face lit up in a smile. He had never looked more handsome.

He opened the gifts your mom got him, a couple shirts and a watch. He thanked her graciously. Then you hand him the gift you were eager to surprise him with. You ordered it online and had it shipped to your mom’s house and she wrapped it for you. He looks surprised as he opens it, a record player and some old records you had to pay an arm and a leg for. They were hard to find too. You asked Steve what music Bucky liked back in the day and you searched for days to find them on vinyl.

He pulls you in for a hug. “This is the best Christmas I’ve ever had.” He whispers in your ear. You hold him tighter. The rest of the day is spent watching Christmas movies and eating cookies. Your mom set up a hot chocolate bar on the table with marshmallows, whip cream, sprinkles and peppermint sticks. It was a cute idea she got from Pinterest.

That night, you hug your mom goodnight as she heads to bed. You and Bucky stay up a little longer. Bucky was acting a little weird. He went out to the shed where your mom stored her Christmas decorations and he was being secretive. When you asked about it, he told you it was a surprise. So you stopped asking questions and tried to finish watching The Year Without A Santa Claus. When it was over, you went to your childhood bedroom where Bucky had been for a while.

“Can I come in yet?” You ask as you stick your head in the doorway. When Bucky nods, you shut and lock the door behind you. “Strip.” He commands. You don’t hesitate. You would walk on hot coals barefoot if he asked you to. You place all your clothes in a pile on the floor and stand bare before him. “Get on the bed.” He gestures with his vibranium finger. You lay down and watch as he pulls something out from under the bed. Old Christmas lights that your mom didn’t use this year.

Bucky must have been in here untangling them. He holds your wrists above your head and wraps the lights around them. Then he brings it down your arms and to your chest. He binds it around your breasts and over your stomach. You try to move your wrists, but it’s too tight. Not enough to hurt but maybe a little uncomfortable.

He stands at the foot of the bed admiring you. “Perfect.” He grabs the mug of peppermint sticks your mom had set out off the dresser, twirling one between his fingers. He lays on the bed between your legs pressing a kiss to inside your thigh. You feel his scruffy cheeks against your thighs and you shiver. He leans his head down and licks up your center. Bucky’s flesh hand grabs your thigh, spreading your legs wider.

He looks up at you from between your thighs. His blue eyes never leaving yours as he puts the peppermint stick in his mouth. He twirls it between his lips, getting it wet. He removes it with a plop, and he brings it down, sliding it inside you with ease. His warm tongue flicks your clit, the peppermint making it tingle.

You moan as he swirls his skilled muscle around you. Bucky works the peppermint stick slowly moving it in and out. Each time he puts it back inside you, he angles it to reach that spot that makes you see stars and your toes curl. He rolls his tongue over you as he pumps the peppermint stick faster.

You arch your back and try to get closer to him. You want to reach down and tangle your fingers in his hair while he tastes you. But you can’t move your arms because of the Christmas lights he tied you with. Bucky removes the peppermint stick and brings it to his mouth, sucking your arousal off it. He moans, looking in your eyes as he slurps you off it.

He lowers his head again, his now icy mouth closing around your clit. He sucks you between his lips, his tongue flicking against it gently. You writhe underneath him as he holds your hips down with his metal arm. He slides the peppermint stick back inside you as his lips tug your clit. He moans against you and that’s your undoing. You cry out as your orgasm crashes through you, wrecking you. Bucky keeps up the good work until your shuddering subsides.

The next morning, you both tell your family goodbye. Bucky packs all your belongings into the car and you start the long journey back to the compound. This time instead of yelling at the other drivers, Bucky holds your hand the whole way. “I can’t wait to come back next year.” He tells you with a huge smile on his face.

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[that-one-random-writer]

Rowdy Romance

Masterlist | A Southern Jake Series Here

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x (Southern!F)Reader

Part 2

Summary: You are visiting with a friend and find yourself alone in the Hard Deck. You're both what he was expecting and not.

Warnings: Cursing, flirting, mentions of shotgun, bull riding, and one hunting reference to killing and preparing a deer. Word count: 1,291

The Hard Deck was full. The sun had dipped down below the water line. Your vacation had slowed down. Your friend had made plans with her husband. She was visiting while her husband was stateside.

He had been on deployment for the last year. You had come with her for moral support when you both would have to leave without him.

You found yourself at the beach during the day and spending your nights out sight seeing alone. You can't blame her for spending all her time with her husband.

The couple had just a few more months until he would be back home before being restationed. You weren't excited because she would be moving back out to wherever he was stationed, but at the same time you are excited for her.

You found yourself at the bar that all the locals raved about. Each store owner, that you had spoke to that day, all said that Friday nights were spent at the hard deck. You were at the bar sitting in one of the bar stools. A few locals, and khaki uniformed men had offered you a drink.

There was no interest. Daddy had always said "if he can't skin a deer then how is he gonna feed you when the government crumbles?" Old Southerners still remember the great depression and hold the doomsday prepping dear to their hearts.

You had noticed the sign and kept your phone off the bar. It laid in your back pocket of your dazzled jeans. They had rhinestones in the shape of bull heads. You had an old, tight wife beater top on that cropped a little above your belly button. You looked very out of place in San Diego. You caught a few eyes for that very reason.

The next pair to land on you leaned his arm against the wood beam. "You're from my neck of the woods. Miss, How'd you find yourself up here in California?" His drawl thick.

Your eyes caught sight of the mystery man looking up slowly. His khaki uniform definitely added a nice touch to the voice he carried. "I'm here for a friend of mine." You didn't go into too much detail.

"Well I'll have to thank your friend for sending an angel my way. Can I buy you a round as a welcome to California?" You smiled softly. "Jack on the rock." He smirked. "Your daddy must carry a shot gun wherever he goes for an order like that." He chuckled. "Yes sir, it's on the rack in his truck, or in his hands."

"Penny, can I get two jack on the rocks please?" She smiled. "Sure thing, hangman" your lips curl up. "Hangman... is that what your called round here" His classic smirk finds it's way toward you. "Yes ma'am. That's my call sign."

A small giggle erupts. "I'm not even gonna ask." His smirk still showing. "It's better that you dont." You break the touch barrier slapping his arm softly. "Honey don't say that. You'll make me want to know." Your Laughs strike between your words.

He grabs the two glasses from Penny. "Thank you, Miss Penny." You call out as she goes to the next customer. She smiles and waves as a you're welcome. "Come on, we're gonna go out by the beach." You follow him.

"I told you not to bet him dumbass." Pheonix chuckled at coyote. "Rooster had spent five minutes trying to serenade her, and the new guy tried buying her a drink too." Pheonix popped up. "Thanks for the piña coloda, FNG" pointing to the Fucking New Guy. Coyote continued. "She had walls up to the roof. There's no way he could have got her in 5 minutes flat."

Pheonix laughed resting her chin on her knuckles. "He just did." She scrunched her nose up. "He is an asshole but he is good at picking up women." She flicked a straw wrapper at Rooster chuckling at him. They all began playing pool, and the guys keeping a check on hangman judging his game, making bets on if you would end up going home with him by the end of the night.

Your eyes followed the shoreline, meeting up to the stars. Lights lined the edge of the patio. You stood at the rail leaning in to smell the saltwater, and hear the waves crashing. "Your Jack." He handed your drink to you. "So you know my name, what's yours?" You took a sip of your drink, and tell him your name. "But you can call me, Minnie. That's what they call me back home." You smile brightly.

"Where does that come from?" He leaned against the rail next to you. "Oh no no, if you want to know mine then you have to tell me yours, hangman." Eyebrow arched searching his eyes for a back story. He chuckled and flashed a genuine smile. "Well, I'm a pilot and we get call signs. They call me Hangman, but the 'a's are blank so you can fill them how you like. Thats how I got it." He looked down finishing the innuendo. You laugh wickedly.

"Hungman, How many California girls has that really worked on? How did you actually get that name?" His head shook, chuckling. "Okay, okay, my friends say I hang them out to dry in the sky. They are exaggerating, they're fine. I got their backs. What about you, Minnie?" He looks out to the ocean then back to your eyes.

"My family owns a farms in Texas. When I was about three, I walked around the farm in nothing but a diaper and Minnie hat. They called me 'Minnie', and it stuck." You giggled at the memories of the picture with chickens crowding around you with your Minnie hat on. "Texas? You around the Rusk area?" You nodded. "We're out in Lufkin."

"No way, my family has a pretty big cattle ranch out in Rusk. Small world." Your eyes widen. "The Seresin cattle ranch?" He almost spits out the sip he had just taken. "Umm," he chuckled through the next few words. "Yeah, that's it." He met your eyes again. "My family moved their farm to Lufkin about six years ago, we go to the rodeos and see your family there every year. I've been bucked off jóse a few times. We have had dinner over at their house. They mentioned they had a son in the navy. I'm guessing your Jake..." You trail your words.

"That's me." He chuckles, thinking about you riding on Jóse the bull. "Your momma is so proud of you. Your daddy is too." You smile thinking about how much his momma had to say about her baby jake. "She never got around to show me a picture, but she was very adamant that you are handsome and single." You took your stare back to the water to keep the burn of the cheeks down. "One of them is right.. " You trailed.

He placed a hand at the small of your back leaning against the rail with his other arm. Your bare skin tingling where his hand was. "Both of them are." He smirked while glancing down your curves. "I'm guessing these California girls ain't amounting to what you thought they'd be." He spoke slowly while playing with the hem of your shirt. "No ma'am, they are not." Your eyes met his, and you rounded into his arms and placed your hand on his shoulder.

He leaned up, allowing him to pull you closer to him, his arms wrapped around you. Your southern drawl thickened. "Well, I guess you better find yourself a cowgirl." Your Eyebrow raised, and a smirk crossed your lips. "I think I found one."

No permissions to share the story as your own. Do not repost to any site. Don't steal from aspiring authors that makes you a 'C U Next Tuesday'!

[chambergambit]

"As I flipped through the pages I realized, my God, it's all scenes of [Nazi] occupied Paris. And I knew I'd found a treasure," she says. "And then I read the little note in the front. 'If you find this album,' it said, 'take care of it and have the courage to look at it.' I thought, someone sent a message in a bottle and I just found it." But there was no indication of who had taken the pictures, and with good reason. During the German Occupation of France, the Nazis strictly prohibited outdoor photography; taking pictures without an official permit was punishable by imprisonment or death. Colaux told NPR she felt compelled to learn who had snapped the mysterious photographs. So she called her friend Philippe Broussard, an investigative journalist with the respected daily newspaper, Le Monde. Together, they embarked on a four-year search for the unknown photographer.

Fascinating article, highly recommend.

[partisan-by-default]

The search for the unknown photographer began in the summer of 2020, with the discovery of an old photo album at a flea market in the town of Barjac, in the south of France.

Documentary producer Stéphanie Colaux had long enjoyed looking through old photos, haggling over the price of an album and imagining the stories behind the weddings and birthdays of the everyday past.

But this time she found something extraordinary and precious —and it came with a challenge.

"As I flipped through the pages I realized, my God, it's all scenes of [Nazi] occupied Paris. And I knew I'd found a treasure," she says. "And then I read the little note in the front. 'If you find this album,' it said, 'take care of it and have the courage to look at it.' I thought, someone sent a message in a bottle and I just found it."

Inside the album were 377 black-and-white photos taken between 1940 and 1942. They included street scenes with civilians and ubiquitous German soldiers, going about the business of Occupation near some of the most recognizable landmarks: Montmartre, the Place de la Concorde or the Champs-Elysées.

[suntuusita]

What inspired the choice of her name?

There's been some variations of her name but the idea is similar. When I first created Mer, it was Mireille—a French name that meant "to admire (mirèio)" which came from the Provençal dialect. It stuck around for a good bit, I enjoyed it, everyone enjoyed it, but then...the light bulb lit up.

Since m/o/naco is located near southern f/rance, it made sense to me that she would co-exist with the language alongside with m/onégasque. So the name Mirèlha came into existence as it was the alternative spelling for Mireille--the kicker is, that this name was invented by a French poet in the 1860s soooo (my) Mirèlha really did not adopt that name until way afterwards. It's most likely that she saw the name, went 'hell yeah', and adopted the spelling.

Prior to that, her name flip-flopped a bit depending who she was with at the time. For most of her life, she followed the Italian spelling and saying of her name as she resided in Italy most of her youth. Mirella was the name she was adopted with (Genoa had some part in this for her). Once she came under French rule, she adopted the French spelling and saying of her name--thus she was called Mireille for a hot minute.

Her middle name was just a funny given since she's right near the Mediterranean sea. Though, if you really want to get into it is, the name was inspired by the Greek God of the river ocean, the Mediterranean sea being one of them.

And finally...Biancheri. It's an Italian surname which just means "blank" or "white." It's an alternative to Bianchi, which means the same thing. It's stuck with her because it's italian, but if you try (from an American perspective), it can sound French. It's a popular name in the region she grew up, so it just a nice connection to have.

She goes by the nickname Mer, Mél, and Mira. Genoa, Seborga (her twin), and Italy tend to call her Lela as a childhood name. She's honestly very fond of Lela but that's only within "family". Everyone else just calls her Mer.

[guerrerense]

Kansas City Southern - Shreveport, LA por d.w.davidson Por Flickr: Happy Friday! Kansas City Southern F-units in the engine terminal at Deramus Yard at Shreveport, on October 1, 1986.

[floridensis]

this Phyla/Lippia stoechadifolia, southern f(r)ogfruit, was mislabelled as Phyla nodiflora, turkey-tangle f(r)ogfruit.

Phyla nodiflora is THE native groundcover lawngrass replacement. all-star. you gotta have it.

this kind, though..... it spreads just as much as everyone's favorite groundcover, which is a lot, but as you can see by the one in the pot, it maybe doesnt like to stay crawling on the ground like it. its a BEAST. in no time that little potted plant will be a sprawling monster 2-3 feet tall and as wide as it can manage, and even taller if it can climb on something. and it WILL climb. its also got way thicker stronger stems!

i love my beast but i would love it a whole lot less if i planted it thinking it was the dainty little groundcover. i hope its posture makes it obvious to buyers that its not actually that one. i have to say im a little disappointed that the tropical audobon plant sale made such a mistake

the consolation if you bought that hoping for the little one is that you can find the little groundcover one literally anywhere and everywhere. its probably impossible for you to look on the ground and not see any. but this big beast is rare and endangered! another reason i wish it was properly labelled......

[reasoningdaily]

Mystery uncovered of photographer and forbidden photos of Nazi-occupied France : NPR

[that-one-random-writer]

That's My Kind Of Night Chapter: 1 |Complete|

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x (Southern!F)Reader word count: 1,932

Summary: Jake takes leave and goes back to Texas. His friend is now married with a woman. This woman's friend gets under his skin and he loves it.

Warnings: cussin', flirtin', heavy banter, angst, mentions of a lot of southern recreations in this series, Sexual tension. Mature

Southern Chronicles Masterlist

Jake throws a bag in the back of his truck. He hopped in the driver's side. It roars to life, sending vibrations all through the cab. He pulls out of the driveway and sends a text to let the boys know he's heading out.

Hangman is on leave for a month. There is a party with some of his life-long friends and their new women. Jake had stopped to grab a couple of cases of beer. It was going to be a night like his younger years.

The group is meeting at the lake. Four wheelers will be muddy, Beers will be passed around, swimming in the lake, the ladies might even start mud wrestling in the pit, and of course, ending the night with a bonfire.

Jake parked the truck next to a few of his buddies out in the pasture. He hopped out and grabbed his things. "Jake!" Blake yelled out. They grabbed hands and pulled each other in, then out for a quick hug. The two friends hadn't seen each other in quite some time.

"Man, it has been a minute. How have you been?" Jake happily greeted Blake. He had joined the Army, while Jake had opted for the Navy. They looked polar opposite. Blake's black hair contrasting to the lighter shade of Jakes. The brown eyes are much different to Jake's seafoam green.

"I've been great, man. Missions have been a little out there, but nothing I can't handle." Blake had an ego, but not near as mighty as Jake's.

"I know the feeling, man. I've saved a couple of lives myself." He chuckled deeply and puffed up ever so slightly. "I'm one of the few that have had confirmed air to air kills. I was the only one, but a few of my coworkers had a stroke of luck." His face beaming with pride.

"Good on you, man!" Blake exclaimed. Clapping his shoulder. "Hey, come on. Come meet my old lady. She is hell on wheels. Her friend ain't much better. They are firecrackers."

Jake nodded. "Show me the way home, Blake." Blake's chuckle bellowed. The roots showed in the women in Fightertown.

They just weren't quite like the southern belles of Texas. It was quite noticeable when the pair came into view of the tracks. Two women stood tossing handfuls of mud at one another. He could tell they were playfully bickering.

They were both covered in dirt, wet, and dried. Their pants were tight on top and boot cut loose to fit their boots on the bottom. Their tank tops matched with one wearing pink and the other wearing purple. He could barely tell a difference with all the mud. The pair of women were definitely about to start wrestling. They both laughed as one tackled the other. "You'd better not." The girl that pounced said. The one on the ground that had been tackled looked up and noticed the men at the other side of the track about 30 feet.

" Ooo Honeybee, look at what we have here." She was shouting to you, the pouncer, with the nickname you had been graced with years ago. "You must be Jake. I'm Vanny, The new Mrs." She held out her hand.

Jake took it softly in his and winked at her. "Very nice to meet you, Vanny." Vanny blushed. "Blake, honey, you are right about him being a charmer." She smiled back at her husband.

Vanny then introduced you by name, "but everybody calls me Honeybee." You cut her off before she could add anything too embarrassing and smiled politely at the handsome stranger. You held out your hand as well and had a tight grip while you shook his hand.

Jake kept his poker face but was surprised at the firm grip. Expecting the delicacy Vanny had shown.

"She stings a little." Vanny made reference to your nickname. "You'll get adjusted to it Jake. From what I hear, you're a bit of a biter too." Vanny spoke up again. She giggled as Jake looked up at Blake with an eyebrow arched. Blake had told her he had a bit of a mouth on him, even Jake himself couldn't disagree. "Ooo Blake baby, look at the time, drive me up to the dock. We've a party to get ready for. Honey bee, why don't you let Jake drive you up to the house to grab the stuff."

You giggled brightly. "That's funny, Van." You had started making your way back to the four-wheeler following the pair.

"Im driving!" He calmy made his way to the four-wheeler. He started strapping his bag and beers down. You looked that man up and down. Appreciating how this man looked. His body was sculpted. His biceps are far too big for that tiny shirt. It was enough to make you crumble. "No, you're not." You called back to him, wrapping your legs around the seat. He raised an eyebrow. Looking up from the straps. "I'll tell you what doll face. You get to ride in the front." He hopped on behind you. You could feel his body press against yours, your ass pressed so close to him. His minty breath was so cool against your ear that it sent a shiver down your spine.

"You just better hold on, Darlin."" He whispered softly. This man was gonna get you in trouble.

He had grown up around Blake's family lake house. He knew the trails like the back of his hand. He drifted down the side of the path, cutting off Blake.

You held up a bird passing Vanny. Your irritation materialized. She's giving this man ideas. Vanny wiggled her fingers to wave you off. She knew what she was doing. The couple already decided that they wanted to play Cupid in your life. You had been mad at first. You're starting to rethink your emotions, seeing him up close and feeling him so close to you. You're hard-headed, so you'll still give her hell about it later. "So you know where you're going?" You yelled over the engine.

"I've been here as long as I can remember." He yelled back over the loud vibrations.

"Good, can you take me down by the campsite. I left some things down there." He took a turn down a trail, and you knew he heard you.

The four-wheeler stopped once the tents were in front of you. "You had a whole lake house, and yall camped last night?" He leaned back to make room for you to hop off.

"Yeah, a bed isn't the same as a hammock. Im out here any chance I get." You walked to your hammock and grabbed your gun, slipping it in the holster on your belt. You put your ball cap back on your head. It was distressed and had the words Mama tried on the front in bold letters.

"Don't worry, I took a shower this morning." You called back with a laugh, grabbing a couple of other blankets, lighter fluid, and matches.

"It sure don't look like it." He chuckled, looking at your mud covered curves. He had to admit, those jeans definitely complimented you well. Especially when you bent down. The mud was accentuating all the rounded edges.

"And you look like you just hopped out of a Barbie doll box, Ken." You put everything on the back of the four-wheeler strapping it down. Then leaned against it. "Blake made it seem like you're more G.I. Joe, the way he talked about you." You got back on in front of him. You made a dramatic sad face. "Bless your heart, Malibu Barbie must have had her way with you..." Your voice got much softer into a whisper. "One too many makeup testers at the beauty shop." You giggled softly at the banter.

Jake smirked and looked up at you. "Honey, G.I. Joe is scared of me."

You matched his smirk. "Prove it..."

He turned his attention the trail and then pressed the gas, knocking you back into his chest. He made sure to hit the mud puddles a little harder, causing mud to splatter all over the pair. "How's that for a Ken doll?" He called over the engine.

He drifted and parked right in front of the house. You both made your way to the door. He opened the door and held it open for you. "You look better." You patted his chest and complemented the mud on his clothes, walking through the door. Your eyes lifted with your smile.

You walked into the kitchen and leaned against the kitchen counter. Cool air blasted from the A/C. Confidence seeping out of Jake's aura, he followed behind you. "Tell me about yourself, Y/N." He glanced around the house. It was just like he remembered. He walked to the kitchen and grabbed a beer in the fridge. You took it in your hand as he offered it to you. He grabbed one for himself. You popped the top.

"Well, I'm 27, and I own a hair salon in town." You started. Then, you paused to take a sip. "What about you? Tell me about the life of a handsome ken doll."

Jake smirks and leans against the door frame. His elbow is against the frame, placing his hand behind the nape of his neck. His biceps filling up the tight sleeve of his tee shirt. You didn't hide that you were checking him out as your eyes dragged to where his shirt lifted. "I'm a naval aviator. I've had two air strike kills in the past six months." His chest puffed. "We've been on some pretty crazy missions here lately. A lot of classified information. I'm thinking about taking an instructor position I've been offered. The school is up in California."

You were impressed but held the poker face. You giggled to yourself when he stopped at California.

"I knew I smelt malibu Barbie on you..." you muttered giggling, you then spoke back up continuing,"Naval aviator, That sounds like a dangerous career. My momma would smack me if I didn't thank you for your service." He nodded his head, acknowledging the appreciation. "I guess I stand corrected. G.I. Joe might just be shaking in his boot. When you're back in California, make sure to say 'hello' to your girlfriend Barbie in the dreamhouse for me."

He stiffled a laugh from exiting his plump lips. "I'm still waiting for a Barbie to complete my collection. I do have the dream house, though. I just bought it about a month ago. If you ever want to take a vacation in San Diego, let me know. You can come play Barbie with me. You have a G.I. Joe, that might be scared of me? "

You bit your lip, looking him up and down. You placed both hands on the counter, leaning forward comfortably. Your chest is displayed with a glow from the sweat and mud. "I'm not a Barbie Doll type, and G.I. joes dont quite do it for me. I need something a little more intimidating, " You whispered softly.

The teasing was very tempting. His eyes shifted down to where cotton didn't cover. The glow was so inviting. His smirk raised back to his face when he met your eyes again. He was lost for word. Your teasing had got him. You had won in his mind, and that both infuriated him and intrigued him. Especially when that just confirmed your relationship status to be single. The only words he could muster came out in a low growl. "I think I know a guy."

CHAPTER 2

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[meteorologistaustenlonek]

"Broussard says this is more than just a story about about one man taking pictures during World War II.

"As I flipped through the pages I realized, my God, it's all scenes of [Nazi] occupied Paris. And I knew I'd found a treasure," she says. "And then I read the little note in the front. 'If you find this album,' it said, 'take care of it and have the courage to look at it.' I thought, someone sent a message in a bottle and I just found it." @NPR