#Winter Baseball Cap for Men

[sublimecreatordreamer]

New York Embroidery Warm Winter Baseball Cap for Men and Women, 100% Polyester, Adjustable Thanksgiving Occasion Outdoor Travel Hat with Soft Lamb, Hand Washable - 1 Piece

[javier-pena]

three's a crowd

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader x Joel Miller

Word Count: 9.9k

Rating: Explicit

Summary: You’re in love with Frankie and he is in love with you, but you both have no idea how to act on it. Until Joel Miller comes along.

Warnings: friends to lovers | alcohol consumption | smoking | pining | jealousy | reader’s hair can get wet without it being an issue | Joel is kinda sleazy in this (but reader is very much into it) | mentions of cheating | protective Frankie | threesome m/f/(m) | a surprising amount of biting | the oral fixation in this is insane, I’m sorry | it’s all about hands and fingers | voyeurism | semi-public sex | cuck!Frankie but also not really (guess you’ll have to read it to find out what that means) | nipple play | (brief) fingering | (very brief) masturbation (m) | unprotected p in v sex | rough sex | spanking | orgasm delay | overstimulation | creampie

Notes: I started writing this fic in June and it was supposed to be a fun little summer thing and then stuff happened and now it's October - but here it finally is. There isn't really much I can say about it except that Dani @alexturner saved the whole thing by pointing out that the final fic wasn't really like what I had talked about while discussin the idea with her and after editing it, it's much, much better. I also had a lot of fun talking about Frankie's and Joel's backstory with you, Dani 🤭 maybe I'll write that one day ...

“D’you wanna fuck her, Miller?”

BEFORE

It must have been two years ago, or maybe it was three. Your hair was longer, you had just broken up with your boyfriend of five years, had just moved to a town where you didn’t know a single soul. “A fresh start is what you need.” That’s what your therapist said to you when you cried your heart out after Derek dumped you and moved in with his new girlfriend a week later. But she hadn’t been talking about this, moving halfway across the country, all the way from Maine, where the winters are cold and the air is always salty, to Texas, where it almost never snows and the tornado sirens make you run for cover.

That’s how you met Frankie, sweet, smiling Frankie. Your truck broke down in the grocery store parking lot and he jump-started it. He stuck out to you because he was wearing a pale blue baseball cap, bleached from countless summers under the hot Texan sun, and not a cowboy hat like all the other men around. You bought him dinner at that steak place that would become your favorite, and after three shots of tequila you opened up to him. He held you when you started to cry, took you home, slept on your couch when you asked him not to leave.

You’ve been friends ever since.

He showed you around San Antonio, he flew you to Enchanted Rock in a helicopter he rented, he even took you to Mexico where you found out he speaks Spanish fluently. He helped you fix the roof of your bungalow when it started leaking. You, in turn, took him to the cinema, made him watch horror movies that made him squeal, dragged him along to a rodeo, taught him how to ride a motorcycle when he told you he had always wanted to learn. The two of you just clicked. It felt right.

Now, after three years, you can’t imagine your life without Frankie in it. You don’t remember who you were before him, and you don’t want to. He’s your best friend, and you’re his. Where one of you goes, the other follows. And of course, people mistake you for a couple, of course they ask, “And what about your girlfriend here?”, they say, “You’re lucky to be dating such a nice young fella”. You always laugh, correct them lightheartedly. But sometimes you wish they were right. You love Frankie as a friend, more than you ever thought you could love anyone, but sometimes you want more.

You almost got that more about a year after meeting Frankie. One of his friends, Santi, was in town, and you went out with a group before taking advantage of the hot tub that came with Santi’s motel. There were drinks involved, one thing led to another, and suddenly you found yourself straddling Frankie, wearing nothing more than a bikini, your fingers tugging on his curls, his hands roaming all over your body. It didn’t go any further than that, and the next morning he dropped you off at your house with his usual, “See ya ‘round.” He never talked about it and neither did you. He was probably regretting it and you didn’t want to lose him over something like this, so you left it all unsaid.

He started dating someone soon afterwards, first Arabella, then Bessie, and you hated them both, even though they were probably decent women. Luckily, neither relationship lasted long because it hurt. You didn’t tell Frankie, acted perfectly civil around them, but it felt as if your heart had been dropped from a great height and had shattered against the pavement. You had to ease that pain with a couple of meaningless one-night-stands but they couldn’t take your mind off Frankie buried deep in another woman when it should have been you. And when you told him about Billy and Carson and Hank and Landon and Clara to provoke him to do something, he just shrugged it off and said, “I’m glad you had a nice evening.”

Frankie is single now, and so are you, and life is good. It isn’t always easy, but it’s a far cry from how it was in Maine. You’ve made peace with the whole Frankie situation, realizing it might just be enough knowing you’re the most important person in his life, even if you’ll never have him completely. This way, there also won’t be a messy breakup, hurtful things said in anger, actions you can never undo. You’re content with being Frankie’s best friend, and that should be enough.

It's summer now, one of the hottest on record. The AC in your bungalow broke and Frankie wanted to help you fix it, but then he got busy at work. That was almost a week ago, and you use these circumstances as an excuse to hang out at Frankie’s place as much as possible. He doesn’t mind. He has a big pool in his backyard that he always shares with you, and he loves your company. If you didn’t know better, you’d think he’s putting off fixing your AC on purpose.

You’re floating on your back, eyes closed, the sounds around you muffled by the water. Frankie is lounging in a chair by the side of the pool, resting in the shade after a hot day. Every time you glance over at him, his eyes are closed. That gives you the freedom to truly look, to see him how not many people are allowed to see him.

You take a deep breath and dive, floating weightlessly for a few seconds. It’s so easy to imagine this to be your life, Frankie to be your boyfriend. If he were, nothing would be different. You’d get to use your shared pool, watch him doze in the shade, help him prepare dinner later, laugh at his corny jokes … Your heart squeezes when you realize you have all of that and still it isn’t enough. What’s missing is riding him by the side of the pool, your bodies sticky with sweat. What’s missing is kissing his neck while he’s watching the brazier. What’s missing is knowing he’s yours and you’re his, come what may.

There’s a shadow by the side of the pool, and you scramble upwards, breaking through the surface with a gasp. “What?” you ask, smiling up at Frankie, shielding your eyes from the sun with your hand.

Frankie gives you a thumbs up. “Just making sure you’re not drowning.”

You’re treading water as you say, “Would you jump in and rescue me if I was?”

He laughs. “I’m pretty sure you’re a better swimmer than me.”

“I’d make it worth your while.” You wink at him.

He lowers himself into a crouch so he’s closer to the surface of the water, closer to you. “How?”

“Ever heard of mouth-to-mouth?”

He laughs one of those laughs that comes from deep inside his chest and shakes his whole body. “Leave it to you to make saving someone’s life sound sexy.”

“But it is sexy,” you say emphatically. “Imagine pulling me from the pool, your big, strong arms wrapped around me. I think you’d stay calm and collected; you’d know exactly what to do. Any woman who doesn’t fall for you after that would be a fool.”

Frankie dips his fingers into the water and flicks some of it in your direction. You squeal and try to duck, but the drops still hit you in a quick shower. “Shut up,” Frankie laughs.

You use your whole hand to try and shove the water back toward him. You miss. “Stop it,” you tell him, no weight behind your words, a broad smile on your face.

“Hey!” he shouts. “Don’t make me come in there, young lady.”

He always makes you laugh when he calls you that, the air of authority he puts into his words. You’re not that much younger than he is, but he always acts as if you’re 20 years his junior, while you have started calling him “gramps” to rile him up.

You propel yourself backward, away from him toward the opposite side of the pool. “You’re too chickenshit.”

“Oh, just you wait.” He starts to pull his shirt over his head, his cap that he always wears getting caught in the hem of the neckline. You really try not to but you can’t help looking at his soft belly, the white skin such a stark contrast to his tanned arms. You wonder what it would be like to touch him, what sounds he would make in response to the difference in pressure, if you were using your nails or –

“Am I interruptin’ somethin’?”

You don’t mean to, but you squeal at the sudden appearance of a strange man next to Frankie. You were so preoccupied staring at your friend you didn’t notice someone else approach.

Frankie lowers his shirt. His cheeks are slightly flushed. “Joel!”

You glance between the two men, but neither of them offers an explanation. Instead, a heavy silence settles itself over this already muggy afternoon.

Finally, the stranger, Joel, speaks. “Is this a bad time or –?”

“No, no,” Frankie quickly assures him while you bite down a harsh, “Yes, it is”. Frankie runs his palms down his shirt, trying to smooth the creased fabric. “I just … I had no idea you were in town.

“Well, I am,” Joel replies in a tone of voice that rubs you the wrong way. “I thought I’d drive by, see if you’re home.”

Frankie glances at you, seemingly only now remembering your presence. “This is Joel Miller,” he says in an oddly formal voice. “We sometimes work together.”

“Hi.” You raise your hand out of the water to wave at Joel, the smile you put on not reaching your eyes.

If you had to guess, you’d say Joel was older than Frankie by at least five years, maybe even ten. He’s taller too, broad-shouldered where Frankie tends to fold in on himself. His graying hair is slightly too long, but his graying beard makes him look handsome, especially when he gives you a twisted half-smile as if he’s fully aware of what he just interrupted and is taking pleasure in your discomfort and annoyance. You want him to leave but with a clench of your stomach you realize you also want him to stay.

“She your girlfriend?” Joel asks without pretense, nodding at you in a way that makes you clench your fists.

Frankie chuckles awkwardly, a sound you only heard a few times before and always hated. He lifts his cap with one hand to scratch his scalp, then shakes his head. “No, we’re just friends.”

Joel shifts, rolls his shoulders ever so slightly. “Nice to meet you, just friend of Frankie’s.”

Can’t say the same about you, you want to say but if there’s one thing you learned from your years spent in the south is that there is nothing more important than hospitality. “You too,” you say instead, and start kicking the water, doing laps in the pool. If you ignore him, maybe he’ll leave soon.

But Frankie opens a beer bottle for him and Joel sits down in the lawn chair next to him, taking a big swig. You try to ignore them as best as you can, but you can’t keep your ears from straining to catch snippets of their conversation.

“… between jobs … just a couple o’ nights …”

“… go out tomorrow … bar in town …”

“… broke up with me ‘cause she … her friend …”

Sometimes Frankie laughs in a way he only does when he wants to impress someone. Usually, you can see it too, usually you admire the same people but there is something about Joel that makes alarm bells ring in your head. And you don’t like the way Frankie behaves around him. You don’t want to call it submissive because you hate that word, but it feels as if he’s putting up a front for Joel, not saying what he really wants to say, not doing what he really wants to do.

But then sometimes Joel’s eyes are on you, his gaze hooded, and he doesn’t look away when you catch him staring. There is something in the brazen way he does it that makes you crave more, and you’re a little bit disgusted with yourself for wanting that. You don’t know this man, and you don’t like what you glimpsed so far, but when he asks, “Any chance of you joinin’ us, sunshine?” you’re so very tempted to say yes.

“I wanna shower first,” you answer, pushing yourself up on the edge of the pool. Joel’s eyes immediately shoot to your chest while Frankie’s are glued to his bottle, his fingers busy picking at the label.

“Don’t keep us waitin’,” Joel says in a tone of voice that grates on you and makes you tighten your jaw. You want to flip him off, and he knows it too because he raises his half-empty bottle to you. You wish Frankie would say something, or at least acknowledge your presence, but a loose thread on his jeans has caught his attention now. Your chest tightens with annoyance and, even though you’re loath to admit it, hurt, and you huff at Joel before grabbing your towel and making your way toward Frankie’s house. You feel Joel’s eyes burn a searing mark into your back.  

You have no right to feel the way you do, you tell yourself as you work shampoo into your hair. Frankie can be friends with whomever he wants to. This is his house and he can let himself be treated however he sees fit. And you’re not dependent on him to defend you against a jerk like Joel, you can manage that all on your own. Besides, it’s not as if Joel is going to be around for long, he will most likely leave after another beer or two, so there really is no reason for you to get so worked up about it.

And yet …

You turn off the water with a quick jerk of your hand.

Stepping out of the shower, locating a fresh towel, it’s like second nature to you. You briefly bury the face in the soft fabric, inhaling the clean scent of Frankie’s detergent, a scent that will always bring you comfort. Then you pull one of the several dresses you keep at Frankie’s house over your head before using the towel to superficially dry your hair. It comes away smelling like him, which sends a pleasant shiver down your spine.

You’ve come to terms with it, you really have. Yes, you sometimes dream about kissing him, yes, you can’t stop fantasizing about what the two of you would be like as a couple, but what you have is nice. And it feels like it should be enough, which should count for something, right?

“Took your sweet time in there, sunshine.”

You jump, only registering Joel’s presence leaning against the opposite wall as you pull the bathroom door closed behind you.

“There’s a half bath next to the kitchen,” you tell him, avoiding his searing gaze. “You know, if you need to go.”

You try to scurry down the hallway and back out into the garden, but Joel pushes himself off the wall and steps into your way. “I don’t,” he answers. “I was looking for you.”

You sigh and look up at him, hoping he’ll notice your mild annoyance. “Why?”

“Frankie’s busy with dinner.” His gaze sweeps you from your damp hair down to your bare feet, widening as he notices your dress is slightly too tight at your chest. “And you look like good company.” Before you can come up with a snide remark, he’s two steps closer and his hand is suddenly resting on your waist, his palm hot to the touch even through the fabric. “You’re certainly prettier.”

The sudden contact, his brazen approach catches you off-guard. It’s been years since a man has treated you like this, and many years more since you were free to do with that whatever you wanted.

“Come on.” Why is his voice so low suddenly? “Cat got your tongue?”

You roll your eyes. “N-”

But before you’re able to finish the second short sound, the thumb of his free hand is on your bottom lip and he starts to pull it down. “Let me check.”

Before your brain can consider all your options, you bite down on his finger, hard, out of reflex, drawing a hiss from him. He pulls back, steps away, shakes his hand. But that sleazy half-smile is still firmly fixed on his face. “Oh, you’re a little fighter, is that it?”

You take a step closer to him in an attempt to intimidate him, but he doesn’t budge. “I just don’t like it when people touch me without my permission.”

“I bet that sweet little pussy of yours is tellin’ a different tale.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You shove him, both palms hitting his chest, and he loses some ground.

He tries to snatch your wrist but you’re too fast for him. “Careful, sunshine. Don’t irritate me.”

“Why?” You push your chin forward in defiance. “What are you gonna do about it?”

“Oh, I have some ideas.” Joel reaches for your waist again, but you manage to step back quickly. He balls his hand into a fist. “I just ain’t sure you’d like them very much.”

“Didn’t your mother teach you manners?”

“I’d like to teach you some,” he shoots back.

The sound of Frankie clearing his throat makes you jump. He’s standing behind Joel, just inside the sliding door that leads into the garden, a cocktail shaker in his hand, an apron covering his chest. “Drinks are ready,” he announces, his voice tense. Then he turns around, leaving you to wonder how long he’s been standing there and how much he heard.

Your stomach curls tightly with shame. Not because of anything he might have overheard or because of anything you did, but because you liked the way Joel talked to you, you liked that he decided he wanted you and went for it. You liked being close to him, feeling his uninvited touch on your body, hearing him say those lewd things. And all the while you forgot about Frankie, for the first time in months.

Joel glances at you and some of the shame must show on your face because he says, “If I kissed you right now, do you think he’d punch me?”

And just like that you’re back to feeling the slow grating of annoyance, like nails scraping down a chalkboard. “Don’t flatter yourself,” you huff before pushing past him and stepping back out into the garden.

The evening light is softer now, the heat feels less oppressive. The sun has begun to dip toward the horizon, and Frankie’s shadow is long against the grass as he waits for you to rejoin him by the pool. You want to put on your brightest smile for him, want to show him how much you appreciate everything he is doing for you, but with him you never have to pretend. Your face lights up when you see him whether you want it to or not, your steps quicken, your heart feels full of happiness. Even someone like Joel can’t ruin that, no matter how hard he might try.

“All clean?” Frankie has a lopsided grin on his face and a martini glass in his hand. When you nod, he hands it to you. “I made it just the way you like it.”

“Thanks, honey,” you tease and playfully kiss his cheek.

“This one’s for you.” Frankie hands Joel a tumbler full of amber liquid.

Joel raises an eyebrow. “Just whiskey?”

“You seem like a whiskey kinda guy,” Frankie answers with a shrug before taking off his apron and hanging it over the backrest of his lawn chair.

“What are you having?” you ask, sitting down on one of the sun loungers Frankie keeps next to the pool.

Frankie lightly shakes his beer bottle. “I’ll stick with this for now.”

You glance from him to Joel and then back to him as both men remain standing, clutching their drinks. “Well, this is nice and relaxing.”

“Sorry,” Frankie mumbles and lets himself fall back into his chair. “Long day.”

Joel chuckles and steps forward, but instead of choosing the chair next to Frankie’s, he sits down on the sunbed right next to you. The rough denim of his jeans scrapes against your naked thigh and you scoot away from him, clearing your throat. Joel doesn’t seem to have noticed; his eyes are fixed on Frankie.

“You never told me you had a nice place like this,” he says, vaguely waving his hand at the pool and the manicured lawn. “I would’ve come over much sooner.”

“Where do you live?” you ask before Frankie can say something.

Joel chuckles before taking a sip from his whiskey. “You know what would go great with this?” He pulls a crumpled pack of cigarettes out of the back pocket of his jeans, conveniently having to lean against you to retrieve it. You push back, refusing to make yourself small. He holds the pack out to you first, but you shake your head. He doesn’t offer it to Frankie.

“She asked you a question.”

Your eyes snap from the sight of Joel lighting a cigarette, the filter hugged firmly between his lips, to Frankie, who has his elbows propped up on his knees, a thumb and forefinger wrapped around the neck of the beer bottle, holding it precariously.

Joel takes a drag from his cigarette and exhales slowly. The smoke tickles your suddenly very dry throat. “I live here and there,” he finally replies. “Wherever work takes me.”

“Okay, so where do you currently live?” you probe.

Joel waves his hand around. “Y’know …”

“What he means to say is that he’s currently between houses,” Frankie clarifies, a slight tension in his voice you haven’t heard before.

“Oh, so you’re a bum?” Is Frankie’s face lighting up with satisfaction at your comment or are you only imagining that?

Joel takes another drag. “I’m whatever you want me to be.”

It was bad enough that he had no regard for your boundaries when Frankie wasn’t right there next to you, but he can’t expect you to just take it now that Frankie is this close. You try to stand up, but his hand closes around yours and pulls you back down next to him, the force of it making some of your drink spill.

“Hey!” you protest loudly, but he only slings his arm around your shoulder.

“His girlfriend just kicked him out,” Frankie goes on, pretending he didn’t notice what just went down. “He cheated on her with her best friend.”

“Couldn’t have been a very good friend then.” You pick Joel’s heavy arm off your shoulders and let it fall down next to you.

Joel shrugs. “If I see somethin’ I want, I take it.”

“Must be lonely, going through life with that mindset,” you observe, watching him as he stubs out the cigarette against the tiles surrounding the pool.

“Depends on what you want out of life, I s’pose.”

You glance up at the slowly darkening evening sky, currently a soft, darkening blue, then take a sip from your very strong martini. “And what is that?” you ask, watching a bird glide across the sky.

“D’you wanna fuck her, Miller?”

AFTER

“Yes.” It comes out rough and breathless and eager, and suddenly your blood is rushing in your ears. You have no idea when the evening shifted to this, but you suppose it was inevitable from the moment Joel walked in. You just didn’t think Frankie would be the one to ask the question.

You glance at Frankie, sweet Frankie, who always respects you, always treats you like you’re royalty, and you see something in his gaze you’ve never seen before, a sort of strangled curiosity, like he’s desperate to find out where this might go, but unsure if he can handle the way there. You smile at him, and you nod, and his pupils dilate immediately, setting your heart pounding. That’s all he needs from you, and all you need from him.

Frankie puts his beer bottle on a small table next to his chair, leans back, crosses one leg over the other, ankle resting against his thigh. “Tough luck, pal,” he says, and next to you Joel stiffens. “You can kiss her though.”

For a moment, you’re right back there in high school, a bottle pointing at you, your friend Ines grinning at you from across the circle, Billy licking his lips nervously. But you’re all grown up now, you’ve played these games a million times, should know their rules by heart. Then why are your hands so sweaty?

Joel doesn’t waste any time, doesn’t even wait for you to turn toward him. His hand is already at the back of your neck while your eyes are still on Frankie, and his lips have found yours while you’re still trying to decipher the look in Frankie’s gaze. The kiss is rough, almost unpleasantly so, and you can taste the nicotine and whiskey on Joel’s tongue that claims your mouth with hungry licks. Joel’s whole body is pushing against yours, and you push back, pressing your chest against his, making his concentration slip briefly. You use this moment of inattention to gain the upper hand and bite his lip, less violently than you bit his finger but hard enough for him to inhale sharply. Maybe even hard enough to draw a little bit of blood.

Joel shifts, tightens his hold on your neck, and pushes up against you even more, like he’s trying to get you to lie down and submit to him. Resisting his efforts gives you a feeling of power you’re unable, maybe even unwilling, to control. You’re still trying to come to terms with the newness of the situation, with the shift that has taken place, but you know exactly what you want, and that is not to give up one inch to Joel without making him work hard for it.

Joel’s hand is on your naked thigh now, tough callouses rubbing against smooth skin. Just like his kisses, it almost feels too violent, but then you remember Frankie’s hands roaming your body in that hot tub, the way the water hadn’t managed to soften his skin. You remember how much you wanted him that night, and suddenly you wish Joel would touch you more.

As if he can read your thoughts, Joel’s hand is suddenly at the underside of your breast, cupping it through the fabric of your dress, his thumb finding the nipple so confidently as if he has touched you a million times before. Your body responds to the touch immediately and you lean into it, your lips parting in a stifled moan. The pad of his thumb rubs across your hardening nipple, rolls it through the dress and the bra you’re wearing, and you should push him away, make him feel like his efforts are futile and he has no effect on you whatsoever, but it’s been too long. Too fucking long. You’re on fire, unpleasantly so, feeling like you’re burning up too fast, like the flames have barely touched you and you’re already turning to ash. You press yourself into Joel’s touch as your jaw slackens, and he grabs your breast and squeezes it roughly while pushing his tongue into your mouth with the sole intent of making you gag.

“Hey!” Frankie’s voice is sharp, but when you flinch away from Joel and glance over at him, he’s still sitting in his chair holding his bottle of beer.

Your ears feel hot with shame as you refuse to acknowledge Joel’s presence and avoid Frankie’s gaze. Frankie was the one to suggest the kiss, Joel made the first move – then why do you feel such shame? Like you’ve been caught cheating? Why do you feel it’s wrong to –

“What?” Joel asks, interrupting the spiral you’re about to slide down.

Frankie squeezes the neck of the bottle, his skin making a wet sound against the glass. “We said kiss.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see that sleazy smirk return to Joel’s lips. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with a little second base.”

Frankie seems to consider this, his eyes fixed to the ground beneath his feet. You wish you could tell what was going on in his mind, but your heart is still racing like you’re being hunted for sport and your body is screaming for Joel to put his hands on you again, and all of that is too much to read Frankie.

Frankie holds out a hand to Joel. “Cigarette,” he says, and Joel obliges. You watch Frankie light it up and take a deep drag, a sight so unfamiliar it makes you eager to commit it to memory. “So you really wanna fuck her then?” he finally asks.

There is a pressure low in your abdomen that makes you shift against the lounger.

Joel only laughs, crude and hoarse, as if deigning that question with an answer is below him. “Where did you get that idea from?”

Frankie takes another drag, a short one this time, before glancing directly at Joel’s crotch. You follow his gaze to find a bulge there, one that definitely wasn’t there before, straining against the stiff fabric. When Joel’s eyes find yours, you make sure he sees you lick your lips. His jaw twitches.

Frankie leans back comfortably in his chair, some of the ash from the cigarette landing on his pants. He brushes it off with a flick of his wrist. “I’ll let you fuck her. But you’re gonna do exactly as I say.”

You think you must have entered a parallel universe or another dimension. For a short while at least. None of it makes sense: the cigarette in Frankie’s hand, the way he talks and what he says, that man next to you who is nothing more than a stranger, who had his tongue in your mouth two minutes ago, and that all of this makes you wetter than you can ever remember being. But then Frankie’s eyes meet yours, dark pupils blown unfamiliarly wide, and yet there is something in them you recognize – this isn’t a stranger who is looking at you, this is your best friend. No matter what happens next, he’s going to look out for you. All you need to do is trust him.

Next to you, Joel shifts, adjusting his crotch. He licks his lips. “Yeah.” He nods. “Okay.”

Your eyes are on Frankie now, heart racing in your chest, mouth completely dry, as you wait for what comes next. Your brain is running hot trying to go through all the possibilities of what Frankie could have Joel do to you, but all you come back to is Frankie kneeling in front of you, spreading your legs. Joel is nothing more than a shadow beside you, watching with a hungry gaze.

Frankie leans forward and reaches out his hand as if he means to touch you, but then stops himself and leans back. “You don’t have to do as you’re told.” The softness in his voice catches you by surprise, but he goes on before you can analyze it. “To start, do whatever you’re comfortable with.”

You glance at Joel, at how stiff his shoulders are, and you face him, trembling fingers pulling his shirt up where it is tugged into his jeans. Up and up you pull it until he has to raise his arms for you to get it off, and then you finally see his body betray his nerves as his chest flushes a deep red. There is a scar on his left collarbone, old and slightly brighter than the skin around it, there are some sparse, dark gray hairs on his chest, and his stomach is so much firmer than Frankie’s, so much less inviting.

Joel huffs and your gaze shoots back up to his face. “Kinda boring, don’t ya think? Pullin’ off my shirt when you could’ve done anythin’ to me?”

You won’t let him get to you, not like that, not when Frankie’s eyes are on you. “There’s no shame in me enjoying myself by taking things slow,” you retort. “I know your first move would’ve been to stuff two fingers into me but where’s the fun in that?”

“Oh, you’re gonna see where the fun in that is when you’re comin’ ‘round ‘em,” he replies with that infuriatingly sleazy smile darkening his face.

You lean in just a tiny bit closer. “Only if Frankie lets you.” God, that thought turns you on so much your head starts to spin.

Once you recover, Joel’s right hand is cupping your jaw, his grip firm, while his thumb rests against your lips. “Someone should stuff that mouth o’ yours.”

You open your mouth then, until his thumb is only pressing against your bottom lip. You let it slide in past your teeth until you can feel it on your tongue, heavy, tasting like nicotine. You close your lips around the digit and suck on it, your cheeks hollowing, your tongue massaging it. The corner of Joel’s mouth twitches. Somewhere to your right, you hear Frankie’s chair groan.

The sound of Frankie’s voice interrupts you. “I want you to take off her dress.”

With a wet plop, Joel pulls his thumb out of your mouth and then starts pulling at the straps of your sundress, pushing them down your shoulders.

“Slowly,” Frankie adds, his voice calm as if he’s talking to a semi-feral animal.

Joel moves you so both your feet are planted firmly on the ground, then shifts so he’s behind you. He finds the zipper at the back of your dress and begins to pull it down, torturously slowly as if there is something he wants to prove to Frankie. As more and more of your skin is revealed, he brushes over it, calloused fingers making you shiver. His hands feel so much like Frankie’s, and yet not at all like him. Frankie would be soft and gentle too, but he wouldn’t scrape you with his short nails, he wouldn’t tremble like it takes everything in him not to devour you whole.

The fabric of your dress glides down your shoulders and back, and comes to rest around your hips. It isn’t anything Frankie hasn’t seen before – your breasts are still covered, after all – and yet there is something in his gaze when you look at him, a strange kind of longing, like desire that has been kept in check for so long it has become second nature to him. You can see it in the flare of his nostrils, in the darkening of his eyes, in the way his bottom lip trembles briefly before he darts out his tongue to wet it. And yet he sits there, watching, his body unmoving like it has been trained not to give in.

“Take off her bra.”

Even Frankie’s voice is controlled and even. You shift, pulling back your shoulders and pushing out your chest in an attempt to get him to break, but his gaze shifts from you to Joel as he waits for the other man to follow his orders. Joel doesn’t need to be told twice. He flicks open the clasp at your back with one hand and your bra falls away. You push out your chin, willing your face not to heat up.

Frankie’s throat works as he swallows, a small crack in the otherwise impenetrable wall he has put up. “You’re perfect …” His voice, too, cracks on the second syllable and he coughs. “Wouldn’t you agree, Joel?”

Joel doesn’t reply. Instead, he cups one of your breasts again and squeezes the nipple tightly between his thumb and forefinger, making you arch you back as a small stab of pain shoots through you. Now that the protective barrier of fabric is gone, you can feel just how rough his skin is against your sensitive spots, how his callouses catch in places your own fingers smoothly glide over. Your head falls back against his shoulder as he pinches your nipple again, as he begins to roll it roughly, pull on it from time to time to hear you hiss.

Joel’s chest rises and falls against your back, hot skin pressing into hot skin, his breath caressing the back of your neck. He runs his nose from your earlobe all the way down to your shoulder, then back up again, but before he reaches the starting point, he sinks his teeth into your neck and bites down, drawing a shivering gasp from you. And then he doesn’t let go. He bites down harder, holding you in place, while cupping your breast with his entire hand, kneading it until your world tilts.

You’re not aware of how desperate you are to find purchase, but the garden and the pool and the sky above right themselves when your hand finds Joel’s thigh. The denim is rough beneath your palm, but he is a rough man so it doesn’t surprise you. What does surprise you though is how hard you have to fight to keep yourself from bucking your hips.

“Joel, stop.”

For just a short little while you had forgot Frankie is there with you, but his voice reminds you with brute force. And when Joel does as he’s told and you are left with nothing to distract you, all you can do is look at your best friend, at his fingers wrapped around that cigarette, and wonder what it would feel like to have him play with your nipple instead of Joel. The painful way your heart constricts at that thought utterly catches you by surprise.

Frankie takes a final drag on his cigarette, flicks the butt away, and clears his throat. “You’ll only do what I tell you to do.”

You shift, the fabric of your underwear rubbing against your clit sending a bolt of desperation through you, mixing with that unbearable longing to create a heady, dangerous cocktail. “Frankie, please.”

Frankie takes you in, and you have no idea what he sees, but he runs his thumb across his bottom lip and asks, “Do you want him to touch you?”

Joel runs his fingers up and down your arm, his touch so light it feels like torture. You try to squirm away but he keeps you trapped against his chest.

You exhale shakily. “Yeah.” There’s a brief moment of hesitation, one that makes your heart flutter as you decide whether you should keep going. You do. “God, I’m so wet.”

Joel’s wandering fingers close around your upper arm like a vise.

But Frankie keeps up his walls. “Show me how wet she is, Joel.”

You don’t think there has ever been a moment in your life where you were more turned on, a single moment where you were less in control of your body and your desires. You try to stand up, your legs trembling like you just finished a marathon, hands wrapped around your dress, ready to pull it all the way down. Joel doesn’t even let you straighten your back. He pulls you back against his chest and wraps an arm around yours before running his free hand down your stomach, not seductively or teasingly but as if he has a task to fulfill. You’ve barely registered the sensation of his fingers against your lower stomach before he has pushed them past the fabric bunched around you hips and into your underwear, and this time you lose the battle against your own body. You roll your hips into his touch as your eyes flutter shut, you push and push, moans and whimpers urging him on. He doesn’t need to be encouraged – he rolls your clit beneath his index finger, just like he rolled your nipple, before dipping it lower, pushing past the muscles at your opening and up into you.

Before you can make sense of it all, he removes his hand and holds up two fingers right in front of your eyes, glistening with your slick. Your chest heaving, you try to catch your breath.

Frankie’s eyes are wide open. “What does she taste like?” he asks, his voice rough as if he hasn’t used it in quite some time.

Joel rubs his thumb against his index and middle finger, toying with your slick. “Don’t you want to find out for yourself?”

Frankie nods so slightly you can’t be sure it really happens, then hides behind a smirk, and you feel something unbearably insisting curl up tightly in the pit of your stomach. “You tell me.”

Suddenly, Joel’s fingers are at your lips, pushing into your mouth. You open up, surprised by the sudden intrusion, and then his thick digits are pressing down against your tongue, making you gag. Tears are filling your eyes, and spit drips out of your mouth as you feel Joel’s hot breath against the shell of your ear.

“Tell him.”

You can’t, not even if you wanted to. Not because you can’t taste yourself on Joel’s skin, not because you can’t talk with his fingers filling up your mouth, but because Frankie flies out of his chair, brow furrowed and fists clenched. Before he can come to your aid, you close your hand around Joel’s wrist and push his fingers even deeper into your mouth, not breaking eye contact with Frankie, not even for a split second.

Joel presses down against your tongue and you suck on his fingers eagerly, but none of that matters to you. The only thing you care about is the red flush creeping up Frankie’s neck and into his cheeks, and the way he keeps closing the distance between the three of you until he’s standing right there, close enough for you to reach out and run your hands up and down his thigh.

Frankie’s hand is warm and heavy as it closes around yours, pulling Joel’s fingers out of your mouth. You gasp, unable to prevent a thin thread of spit from connecting your lips to Joel’s hand. It winks out of existence a second later when Frankie’s mouth clashes against yours, drawing another gasp from you, one that releases months and months of pent-up longing, one that originates deep in your chest but almost dies on your lips, stifled by wonder.

It isn’t a soft kiss, it isn’t even particularly well executed since your teeth clash painfully and Frankie pushes too hard too quickly. He also tastes more like Joel than himself, of beer and cigarettes, but none of that matters. He could have given you a small peck on the cheek and it would have been the greatest kiss you had ever shared with anyone. You feel his breath against your cheek, a shaky exhale, and before you can stop yourself, you find yourself fisting his shirt, fingers clenched so tightly you will never be able to let go again. That is all you ever wanted, all you ever prayed for, and now that you have it, you never want to lose it again.

Eventually, Frankie pulls back ever so slightly and whispers against your lips, “Summer, that’s what you taste like,” and it’s such a corny line it should have you rolling your eyes, but instead you crane your neck and seal your lips to his again, high from the feeling of your tongue in his mouth. He huffs and pushes up against you, but he’s not close enough – there’s still so much space between you. You reach up and grab the collar of his shirt and pull him even closer, but suddenly rough hands grab your arms and hold you back forcefully.

“I wanna go first.” It isn’t a request, that much is clear.

Frankie pulls back and smiles down at you, his face soft and open, searching for any indication you don’t want to do this anymore. Even though you’ve never wanted anyone as much as you want him right now, the thought of him watching while Joel fucks you, utterly in control of the situation, makes you clench around nothing. Frankie can tell – he switches back to his neutral mask in the matter of a second. “You didn’t do as you were told …”

It isn’t a threat, but it might as well be.

Joel hooks a thumb into your mouth and pulls down your bottom lip. You try to bite him again, but he is prepared this time, holding you in place. “Let me come in her mouth at least.”

Frankie grabs Joel’s wrist again and pulls his hand away from your face. “No.”

You have never heard him use that voice before, that kind of voice that makes you snap to attention, that voice that commands people to follow him. You shift, trying to rub your thighs together, but it’s just a primal reaction you have no control over. All your attention is on Joel trying to pull his wrist out of Frankie’s grip, and on Frankie holding him in place, the muscles in his arm straining.

“I’m going to sit back down, and you’re going to fuck her.” Frankie’s voice is so calm it sends a shiver down your spine. “Slowly,” he adds, letting go of Joel’s wrist. “And if you make her come before I tell you to, there’ll be consequences.”

Every muscle in your body tightens. You’re too wound up to rationally consider what Frankie is proposing, too wound up to think about how much you want this and what that might mean. You glance behind you to catch Joel’s reaction, to see if he’s just as affected by Frankie’s proposition as you are, just in time to watch him lick his lips.

“And I get to fuck her however I want?”

Frankie’s gaze shifts to you. It’s nothing more than a glance, a quick check-in, and you nod, just as quickly, just as imperceptibly.

“Yes,” Frankie answers.

Next thing you know, you’re up on the lounger, knees and hands braced against the soft pillows, faded from long summers under the hot Texan sun, focusing on the sounds of Joel unbuckling his belt. You feel your throat tighten at those sounds, leather scraping against skin, metal clicking against metal, but your mouth is too dry to swallow. Joel unzips his jeans, then there’s a rustling sound, followed by a deep, needy groan. It’s enough to make your heartbeat stumble over itself with excitement. You try to turn your head and glance behind you to see what he is doing, but Joel catches your movement and forces your head down, firm grip at the back of your skull.

“Stay.”

To your right, you hear the sound of Frankie shifting in his chair. He doesn’t intervene.

Joel grabs the bunched-up fabric of your dress with both hands and begins to tear it with quick, jerking movements, ruining it. It falls away and glides down to the ground where it comes to rest next to the lounger, leaving you almost completely exposed to Joel. And Joel doesn’t hesitate. He pushes the thin fabric of your underwear aside and sinks into you with one deep, calculated thrust you can feel in your chest.

Your fists clenched, your head hanging low, you try to take it, but his thrusts send shudders of pain up and down your body. It’s not unbearable, and it shouldn’t surprise you; he fucks like he does everything else – rough and with an edge of violence to it – but the stretch is uncomfortable, and the thrusts are greedy, so much so you wish he had surprised you after all.

“Slow down,” Frankie orders, and you lift your eyes to him. A muscle twitches in his jaw, and when Joel does as he’s told, he watches you closely, searching your face for any signs of the discomfort lessening. You shift, your body adjusting to the feeling of being so full, and when Frankie asks, his voice low, “You okay?” you realize that you are. You’re more than okay, actually. Two more shallow thrusts from Joel and you’re completely relaxed.

“Yeah,” you answer, just for Frankie to hear and his lips quirk up in a smile.

“We’re good,” he tells Joel.

Joel’s open palm lands against your ass cheek catching you unawares, as does the moan you let loose at the sudden burst of pain. Frankie swallows, or at least you think he does �� you can’t be sure with your eyes flutterin shut. You push back against Joel, eager for more, pulling him deeper inside of you with a greedy clench.

“The way you’re clenchin’ ‘round me makes me think you’ve never had dick before.”

Joel’s voice comes out restrained, the words are punctuated by more slaps, one harder than the last. Their meaning is lost on you as you are reduced to a babbling mess, unable to retain anything that is happening outside of your desire for him. You gush around his cock, hot and wet and wanton, and somewhere between the thrusts and the grunts, you hear a chortle.

“Greedy little thing, aren’t ya.”

That chortle is what pulls you back into yourself, and you risk another glance behind you, hoping that this time he will let you see. He does, and you watch him pound into you, both hands on your hips, denim pulled just low enough to free his cock, dark hairs curling just above it, streaked with bulging veins. He has one knee braced against the lounger, one foot firmly planted on the ground. You almost hate yourself for being so affected by that sight, but you can feel everything tighten, your body begging for release.

“Fuck,” you groan, your voice breathy. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, I’m gonna –”

With a condescending smirk, Joel reaches for your clit. “Go ahead, sunshine.”

You close your eyes, focusing on how you’re clenching around him. You’re so, so close, you can almost taste the release on your tongue. Your mouth hangs open, a moan begins to emerge from someplace deep inside your chest and –

Joel’s hips falter and still, and you can feel yourself flutter desperately around him, but it’s not enough. You glide along his length, coming down from the edge, frustration blossoming in the pit of your stomach. Joel’s fingers rest uselessly against your swollen clit, still as the rest of him, and whenever you try to grind yourself against them, his touch lessens.

“Joel …,” you whine, opening your eyes to look back at him.

It’s not Joel your gaze lands on. It’s Frankie, standing right there next to the lounger, one hand on Joel’s head, fisting his hair, pulling on it so his chin is raised high, his neck exposed, a thick vein pulsing near its base. Joel is breathing heavily, but he doesn’t move, doesn’t try to free himself, while Frankie looks down at him, darkness clouding his features.

“You’ll do as I tell you or I won’t let you come inside of her.”

Frankie lets go of Joel’s hair with a shove to drive home the point. Even now, freed from his restraint, Joel doesn’t fight back. He glares at Frankie as if he’s imagining beating him bloody, but he does like he’s told, removing his fingers from your clit to dig them back into your hip. He picks up the pace again, thrusts a little shallower than before, drawing a sigh of relief from you, scratching that undefinable itch Frankie restraining Joel like that triggered in you. That itch you don’t want to examine too closely right now but that you know you’ll return to.

Frankie pats Joel’s shoulder, two firm raps against the straining muscles. “Good boy.”

You clench so hard around Joel he must notice, but he doesn’t remark on it. He resumes the steady snapping of his hips while your eyes fall shut and drop down to your elbows, those two words floating around your mind like an echo.

Good boy.

A desperate little whimper escapes you, one at least Frankie seems to hear, because he runs two knuckles up and down your spine in a movement that is meant to calm you but shoves you toward the edge with a violent jolt. He must know what he’s doing to you, there is no way he hasn’t noticed. And it should fill you with shame, it should make you resent him, the way you lie bare before him, showing him the most vulnerable parts of yourself, but it only makes you want him more. You open your eyes to find him standing right next to you. This close, you can see how tight his pants stretch over the bulge you hadn’t noticed before, how you think you can even make out a dark spot of precum forming against the fabric. You lick your lips.

“Frankie, please.” Your voice is rough and broken, laced with desperation.

Joel shoves into you so violently you feel the thrust in your throat, but he doesn’t say anything.

Frankie leans down and places a soft kiss against your temple, then runs his thumb across your furrowed brow. “Just tell me when you’re ready.”

You whish you could tell him you’ve been ready ever since he suggested Joel should fuck you, but you can only laugh, a broken sound followed by a hard swallow.

Frankie straightens his back, his eyes bright with excitement. “I see.” He makes his way back over to his chair and sits down, the wood groaning beneath his weight. “Go ahead, Joel.”

Joel picks up the pace, making every thought, every doubt you might have, instantly disappear from your head. His fingers find your clit again, rubbing you hard, and after that it doesn’t take long at all. After that, you let out a deep moan and push back against Joel so hard it makes him lose his rhythm, but it doesn’t matter. You’re coming, pulling him deeper into you as he fucks you through it, letting you squeeze him as you sink deep into pleasure, losing track of your body’s movements.

You come back to the surface when you’re spent, and everything feels sore and tender, but Joel doesn’t stop. There is a burning between your legs now and you hiss, reaching back for him.

Frankie is there next to you again, cupping your cheek. You have no idea when he approached, what made him leave his role as spectator this time, but you instantly relax when you feel his touch on him. “Just a little more,” he murmurs, calming you. “You can take it, I know you can.”

You watch him squeeze the bulge in his pants, and giving it another, harder squeeze when Joel grabs your wrist and pins it to the small of your back. The proof of how much he’s affected by you is enough to chase away the discomfort and rekindle the fire in the pit of your stomach. Your eyes glued to the bulge in Frankie’s pants you wonder what it would be like to feel him thrust into you, chasing his release, to feel him take what he needed from your body, fueled by how much you want him in return.

Finally, Joel stills and spills into you, groaning as his orgasm sparks through him. But your eyes are locked to Frankie’s, as neither of you dares to look away.

THE OUTCOME

The neon sign of the motel casts deep shadows into the cabin of Frankie’s pickup. Your gaze is fixed to the flashing letters, promising vacancy. A car rushes past, its tires whispering against the concrete, still hot from the Texan summer day. You try to ignore the tightness in your stomach, but when a door falls shut with a rattling bang somewhere nearby, you feel that sound like a punch to your gut.

“That was fun,” Joel says from the backseat. He stretches his legs, kicking his foot against your backrest. “If you ever wanna repeat that …” He lets the offer hang there in the air between you.

Frankie grabs the steering wheel tightly, the wood groaning under his skin. “We’ll know where to find you,” he finishes the sentence.

Joel braces both hands against your backrest and leans forward so his lips are close to your ear. “I think I’ll stick around for a while, so if you ever wanna grab some drinks, sunshine …”

Only half-listening, you reply, “Whatever,” fighting down the nausea you’ve been feeling ever since you climbed into Frankie’s truck.

“Whatever,” Joel echoes with a huff, opens the backdoor, and climbs out. “You know, I’ve had better,” he adds, before shutting the door with a loud bang.

“Hey!” Frankie barks, but you shake your head, and Frankie lets him walk away.

It doesn’t matter what Joel says to you. You couldn’t care less. Because as soon as Frankie starts the car, he’ll drive it straight over to your place, say goodnight without really looking at you, and tomorrow, he’ll pretend that none of this happened. Just like he did before. And as much as you hate that thought, you’re going to have to live with it.

As Joel climbs the stairs to the second-floor landing of the motel, you say, “You’ll want to take me home now, right?” It’s best to get it over with as quickly as possible.

The wood groans again, but this time from Frankie loosening his grip. He takes off his cap and runs his fingers through his ruffled curls. You don’t look at him, but you study him out of the corner of your eye, trying to read his face. He puts the cap back on, then slings his arm across the backrest of your seat. “Actually … I was hopin’ you’d come back to my place.”

The nausea you’ve been feeling pricks up its ears with interest and then curls up into a tiny ball, tugged away in a corner of your stomach. “Oh?” you say. And that’s all you manage before he closes the distance between you, his left hand cupping your jaw, his lips brushing against yours, tentatively, asking for permission. You give it to him by fisting his shirt, pulling him toward you, by smiling against his lips, exhaling all the tension in one short giggle, full of relief. He strokes his thumb across your cheek at the same time as you open up for him so he can brush his tongue against yours. You find yourself mirroring him, hand on his cheek, thumb running over the stubble there, relishing the feeling of him being so close.

You pull away first, and he follows you, mouth slightly open, chasing another taste. “What are we gonna do at your place? Do you have more friends who want to fuck me while you watch?” you ask, high from the feeling of his tongue in your mouth, from that promise that he won’t forget about any of this in the morning.

A neon flash lights up Frankie’s face, once, twice, as you watch his cheeks darken with a flush. He takes his time, studying your face closely. “No,” he says, his voice a low rumble, so unfamiliar it draws a smile from him, “I want to fuck you myself.”

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dividers by @saradika-graphics

[kedsandtubesocks]

seasons of you (year 1 - winter)

Blacksmith!Frankie Morales x F!Reader

summary: your first winter in the valley brings in a frosty breeze & a push towards a certain blacksmith

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY MDNI, stardew valley AU, reader is a farmer & has a family but no physical description, shy & sweet!Frankie, major pining & yearning, friends to something more, Frankie being previously married/a bit secretive about his life, gift exchange as love language, use of nickname (Frankie calls reader “little farmer” affectionately but it’s no reflection on reader’s size), blooming romance

word count: 5.6k

a/n: we’ve arrived to Frankie’s first piece in our Stardew AU series! We’re starting ‘in the middle of things’ & it’s meant to show how slow/shy our relationship with Frankie unfolds that romance just starts rolling now, plus I needed Frankie’s story to begin this way so something else can maybe unfold in year two but that’s all I’m gonna saying lol, again couldn’t have done this without @lowlights @swiftispunk @perotovar & @burntheedges you babes are my guiding stars always and I’m eternally grateful. And to you, if you’re reading this, thank you too lovely

Snow crunches under your boots and the chilly air seeping through your coat feels different. This would be your first serious winter storm and you already sense it approaching.

Yanking open the blacksmith’s door, a wave of heat washes over and you sigh.

Thankfully Frankie’s shop is still open and you almost cry relieved.

“Sorry!” You apologize walking further towards the counter. “I know there’s five minutes left before closing, but I just wanted to swing by!”

You wanted to pick up your newly forged ax before the storm hit and of course…

You wanted to see him.

Autumn kept you so busy with the farm and the fall festival. Now you hope to see more of your favorite blacksmith.

Waiting for him, your eyes wander.

The shop, with its eternal flame flickering, holds so much personality in its walls. A military pilot flag hangs by the front. The low radio plays a soft rock ballad. A bulletin board by the side of the counter is covered in various flyers and photos. Your favorite snapshots are one of a smiling little baby girl with sweet chubby cheeks you still haven’t gotten to ask Frankie who she is. There’s another photo of a group of men in military uniform.

It’s all so familiar and welcoming now.

With all the time in the mines, you wonder if maybe your pickaxe needs work too. Sliding your backpack off, you examine your trusty tool. Worn, but not weathered, the steel speaks of the craftsmanship and skill of the blacksmith who first forged it for you.

“You waiting for that tool to do something or should I leave you two alone?”

Frankie.

You fight back a smile when his warm deep teasing voice floats in.

Frankie wasn’t this easy going with you at first. He kept his distance, was polite but rather reserved.

“He’s just shy. He was like that when I first moved in too,” Leah, your closest friend here in the valley, reassured you one night at the saloon.

Now those beautiful gem eyes of Francisco Morales blaze straight at you as he walks towards the counter. Wearing his trademark baseball cap you playfully glare at him.

“I’m just checking to see if I need to complain to my blacksmith about my pickaxe needing work.” You quip back to him.

“Oh well shit, thank god that isn’t me.” Frankie smirks and you snort at his comment.

Frankie reminds you of the flames and steel he works with. Hard working and gently intense, yet a warmth gleams beneath him and fills an entire room just like the heat from his kilns.

“You just had to come in five minutes before I closed huh?” Frankie sighs dramatically.

You think he’s teasing but guilt still strikes you quick. Rambling out apologies, you scramble to explain how it’s mainly for precaution with the storm coming.

“I can always come back later!” You urge panicking.

He chuckles, cozily deep, and you sputter to a stop.

“I kid little farmer, I kid.”

That nickname he so casually gave to you just this month sparks an electric warmth through your entire body. You weakly laugh back, not able to fully process a reply.

Frankie’s gorgeous features, his striking nose, and his warm eyes disarm you in a way that makes your knees want to fold.

He moves around the tables and workbenches to pull out your ax.

“There it is!” You happily cheer.

Frankie even playfully shows off the sleek new tool like he’s a hostess in a daytime game show and you clap appreciatively while you laugh. It surprises you how silly sometimes Frankie can be.

Moving back to the counter he places your ax onto it. Then he leans towards you and begins explaining what upgrades he did.

You should be listening, but you can’t. Not with him leaning so close to you.

You’ve had an embarrassing crush on Frankie since the first moment Mayor Lewis introduced you to him. But with how busy you’ve been settling into the valley, along with how shy and reserved Frankie is, your feelings simply have stayed crystallizing inside you.

Frankie’s diligent eyes are so focused on his work and it’s beautiful. He’s beautiful. How dedicated he is to his craft, how quietly passionate he is, you yearn to fall into him more.

Suddenly Frankie’s eyes flicker up and catch you staring at him. In a panic your gaze snaps down to your tool.

“Yup! Looks like it can still cut a tree! Good job, Morales.” You lamely reply and Frankie snorts.

You do sincerely thank him and even offer to get him coffee for making him stay this late.

Frankie waves you off casually. “Maybe next time, besides you gotta get home before the storm hits.”

He’s right. There's still so much you need to do before the night comes. The clatter of Frankie slowly shutting everything down for the night draws you out of your thoughts.

“Do you need any help?” You offer.

“Nah, I’m good. Plus I don’t need your pretty hands getting burned.” Frankie replies back.

Although he’s not looking at you, his sly compliment sends a spark through your body.

Scrambling to put your ax in its guard and then shoving it into your backpack, you thank Frankie again and plan to quietly leave.

“Wait!” Frankie suddenly calls out and you freeze.

“Wait, don’t head out yet. Let me walk you home.”

The chill from outside settles into the shop now that the fires are extinguished. Yet, Frankie’s words ignite a dizzying heat.

“Oh no it’s okay!” You quickly stammer out as a nervous energy spikes in you.

You know he lives besides the forge. It wouldn’t make sense for him to walk you home then have to head the way back here.

The lights from the back area turn off and Frankie already walks out towards you with his coat on.

Your eyes go wide.

“Come on.” He gently nudges you with his kind eyes and your body moves on autopilot.

Once outside the cold galvanizes you. The sky above stretches out a misty blue while the edges of evening’s midnight coloring slowly creeps in.

The entire walk back to your farm Frankie stays in step with you. The conversation is light, easy, simple talk of how his and your day went. Your heart hammers in your chest. Yet, it’s comforting to have someone beside you. He’s warm and stays close.

Now your farm stretches before you a soft welcome home. Frankie, like the gentleman he is, walks you to the door.

Appreciative, you warmly thank him and wish him a safe trip back home.

“Thanks and stay warm, little farmer.” He grins softly, kind.

After a sweet wave goodbye to him, you walk off the porch to do all the final errands before you call it a night.

“Wait, what’re you doing?” Frankie suddenly calls out and curiosity colors his voice.

You glance back and see he hasn’t moved an inch.

With an eased sleepy smile you tell him you have a few last minute things you need to do. Like check on your winter seeds, double check the coop and then make sure the pipes are covered.

“You need help?” He warmly asks concerned and sincere.

“Oh no, I’m good I promise!” You reply. If you were braver you’d joke about not wanting to hurt his pretty hands.

“Besides, you need to get home.” You firmly tell him.

It’s getting darker, not completely night out, but you feel guilty for Frankie walking out here.

So with one final sigh you give him a warm goodbye.

“Stay warm tonight, Morales.”

Frankie quietly grins back and you hope he makes it home safe. Now your focus turns to the small field and you kneel before it.

Your winter seeds aren’t ready just yet. A dread fills you wondering if they will last against the storm.

“What are you growing?”

Frankie.

You didn’t even hear his footsteps in the snow. Whipping your head up you watch Frankie lean down to squat beside you.

“You should be walking home!” You cry out surprised.

Frankie shrugs sleepily. “It’s still early, I’ll be fine.”

You make an indignant squeak that makes him chuckle. Frankie’s eyes return to the little saplings still making their way through the snow, stubbornly growing against the harsh winter.

“They’re just winter seeds.” You sigh explaining how you’ve been growing them mainly for the experience and money.

“You think they’re gonna make it?” He asks gently.

You hope so.

You’re about to get up when Frankie quickly stands above with his hand outstretched to you. Even though your hands are gloved and so are his, a flutter runs through your chest when you place your hand in his. Frankie lifts you up effortlessly and you thank him, trying to steady yourself.

“Alright, what’s next?” Frankie asks light.

“For you to go home, Morales!” You laugh.

“Well you’re walking towards the barn so…kinda doesn’t seem like you’re finished yet.” Frankie comments almost shyly as he stays walking beside you.

“I’m not, but I don’t need your help. Go home!” You urge with a weak laugh. Frankie simply shrugs.

Sliding open the coop door, warmth begs you to come inside. You’re thankful for investing in those barn heaters.

“Your chickens are so big.” Frankie admires quietly in awe at the sleeping birds.

You smile while double checking the coop. Everything seems secure and safe for whatever might come this way tonight.

Stepping back outside the cold air seems still, quiet.

“You need to head home.” You tell him sternly, more worried than ever about his walk back to town.

“What’s next?” He asks with steeled resolve in his voice with no sign of leaving.

“Go home Francisco.” You firmly urge saying his full name.

But then you catch the sight of your pipes and sigh. So you almost did forget to wrap them.

“You didn't wrap your pipes?” He sounds a bit worried.

“I thought I did earlier…” Now you’re extra grateful for double checking.

When the first snow came at the start of winter, everyone reassured you the pipes would be fine. It was during harder snow storms, blizzards, that you needed to be careful. And now one approaches fast.

Frankie follows you inside the house to grab the necessary materials.

You can’t even process him being in your home for the first time. Simply on a mission you and him work together swiftly grabbing duck tape, a ratty old towel and head to the pipes.

It’s a swift team effort. In minutes, the pipes are securely wrapped safely and snug. You and him even share a triumphant high five.

“I wish I could invite you in for a thank you hot chocolate but you need to head home now.” You press.

Frankie, with his hands in his coat pockets, shrugs easily.

“I can stay for some thank you hot coco.” He offers.

“You gotta get home before the storm hits!” You shriek.

He waves you off casually. “It’s not coming till later tonight I’ll be fine. Now come on, don’t you wanna impress me with your hot chocolate skills?”

The smirk he gives you is so boyishly charming, almost like he’s daring you to invite him in.

This side of him is rare. You’ve only seen him get this smug and cocky at the saloon during a game of darts. Now your heart flutters fast in your chest.

“Come on,” He pouts. “Think of this as a way to help keep me warm on the walk back.”

He makes a point. The panic of wanting him to make it home safe before the storm, becomes smaller against the thought of spending more time with this man.

To have this man in your home.

So with a sigh of defeat you crack. Nudging your chin towards the door, you let Frankie in.

He’s in your home now. You need to stay composed.

You do have budding feelings for him, something that’s evolved out of the simple crush you had. And having him here in your home feels like dipping your toe into the deep end of a pool before jumping in. But you shake those thoughts away.

“Your place is nice.” Frankie admires and you thank him.

It’s still small, cozy now that you’re slowly allowing yourself to fully settle into the old bones of your grandpa’s home.

You want to say more until Frankie’s stomach suddenly growls.

Looking at him with surprised eyes, he stares back with beautiful eyes the size of the full moons.

“Shit.”

You laugh at his panicked response.

“You okay with maybe staying and having a quick dinner or should I really kick you out so you can head home?” You leave the option up to him, place the ball in his court.

Frankie with the most bashful smile slides off his coat.

“Dinner sounds great, little farmer.”

Your heart floats up and gets tangled in your throat, but it’s incredible.

You have the leftover lasagna Evelyn gave you as a thank you. But you also think of the soup recipe you've been dying to make for this weather.

So you leave it up to your guest for the night.

“Soup or leftover lasagna?” You offer light.

Frankie’s eyebrows scrunched together adorable, thinking hard at the two options, and you keep back a giggle.

“Will the soup take you a while to make?” He sounds sweetly concerned.

You swear it will take less than twenty minutes.

“Soup it is.” Frankie grins and it touches his eyes.

You begin grabbing the various ingredients and hate how hyper aware you feel even in your own house.

“So what can I help with?” Frankie now slides beside you and you almost squeak in surprise.

For someone who makes so much noise when he works, you find he’s rather quiet, swift.

“You’re my guest, so don’t worry. Plus you’ve helped enough!” You shoo him away and don’t miss the way he playfully glares at you.

Conversation again unfolds effortlessly with him. Frankie talks about how Mayor Lewis was in the shop earlier bragging about you hitting a full year in the valley.

“And here I thought everyone had stopped gossiping about me.” You snort lightly and start grabbing the bowls.

It will be a full year since you moved to your grandpa’s family farm. However, you wonder when the newness of you living here will subside.

“There’s… still some gossip of course. Small town after all.” Frankie admits shyly, like a school boy admitting a secret.

“But don’t worry, I don’t let any of ‘em talk bad about you in my shop.” Frankie, endearingly sweet, adds. His words knock you breathless and you almost drop the bowls.

“I knew I could count on you, Morales.” You manage to say with a grin.

Thankfully quick, the soup turns out comforting and delicious. Frankie even gushes about how incredible it is and your ego inflates wild.

“Thanks so much for dinner.” Frankie beams with the brightness of a sun.

“Please, I’m the one who’s thankful for all your help.” You earnestly tell him.

“Plus, it’s nice to have good company for dinner.” You add.

“I understand,” Frankie nods. “Gets a bit quiet around my place too. S’nice to change it up.”

A dual sided emotion settles in you. You ache understanding but also yearn to uncover more about this beautiful and sturdy man.

Before you can dive more into this discussion, Frankie’s phone rings wild and loud. Hastily scrambling to grab it, once he discovers who’s calling his face drops for a flicker of a moment.

“Sorry little farmer, but gotta excuse myself real quick is that alright?” His voice wavers.

Of course you earnestly reassure him and even direct him to the bathroom so he can talk in private. Frankie thanks you graciously then rushes out.

The house is quiet and he didn’t fully close the bathroom door fully. So his conversation leaks out enough for you to catch it.

“Wait, so you wannna just spring this on me now?” His voice slices out sharp. You’ve never heard Frankie sound this upset.

“Yes of course I’m gonna take her. But do you know how fucking shitty this is, Diana? Did you even think about my schedule before you fucking planned this trip?” He snaps.

You’ve also never heard him curse and it snaps your snipe straight. He sighs incredibly frustrated and angered, allowing whoever is on the phone to talk.

“Oh yeah, yeah, real fucking nice. Always make me the bad guy, right?”

Then Frankie starts speaking fast and low in Spanish you can’t catch what he’s saying. His tone however feels barbed and venomous.

So many questions bubble up. You believe you heard the name ‘Diana’ but this could be a conversation about anything.

Now thinking about it, even though you’ve been here almost a full year… you don’t know much about Frankie personally and that truth sinks your heart.

Silence now settles into your home until Frankie’s footsteps echo returning down the hall.

“I’m so sorry.” Frankie’s voice jolts the air but with a deep sadness. “I think I’m gonna have to save that cup of hot chocolate for another day.”

You kind of figured. Besides, you didn’t want him to get caught in the storm.

Outside the air has chilled, but thankfully the snow hasn’t begun.

“Had a great time tonight, thanks again for having me for.” An earnest grace radiates from his words.

You’re the one who’s truly thankful for him and you repeatedly tell him that.

Unfortunately a dread hits you. You want to make sure he makes it home. Your worry must be evident on your face because Frankie’s eyes cloud with caution.

“Wait, what’s wrong?”

When you tell him, a beautiful relief melts on Frankie’s face that you almost wish you could capture.

“Oh come on, that’s easy to fix, little farmer.”

He pulls out his phone and hands it to you.

He’s asking for your number.

Your heart beats so rapidly in your ears when you type your digits in.

“I’ll message you when I get home. Promise.” His warm voice is gilded with truth.

“Stay safe okay Frankie?” You tell him and his gorgeous eyes soften.

“Yeah, will do. And you stay safe too okay, little farmer? Stay warm and if you need anything.”

He holds his phone up and playfully wiggles it, a signal to say you should call him. You smile unbearably big and stay on the porch watching him leave until he vanishes from your sight.

You keep busy so you’re not simply staring at your phone waiting for his message. You clean up the remnants of dinner and feel comforted seeing two bowls in your sink.

Then your phone chimes and you scramble.

An message from an unknown number:

[Made it home safe!]

Another message flickers in.

[Also this is Frankie btw :)]

[Hi! 🪓]

The little ax emoji he adds makes you giggle giddy over how adorable this man can be.

You add his name and contact info into your phone. It warms you better than any sip of hot chocolate could.

- ❆ -

“Why do we even gotta celebrate ice?” One of the kids, you think Vincent, shouts that as you reach the edge of the forest and you snicker.

When you heard about the festival of ice, it simply sounded like a way for the town to break up the winter days. But it also reminded you how earnest and endearing the town can be.

Your heart jumps fast spotting Frankie bundled in his cozy jacket. He stands close to Willy and the two of them talk low, completely engaged with each other.

Whatever they’re discussing seems serious, evident in Frankie’s hard frown and Willy’s unusual somber expression. You decide not to interrupt them.

The fishing game is the highlight of the festival and to no shock the town’s head fisherman wins.

“It’s rigged.” You tease Willy and his hearty laugh is contagious.

“Don’t worry, next year you’ll be puttin’ me to shame.” Willy proudly declares.

When the event concludes for the day, Frankie already walks off without saying a word to you.

You try not to think about it too much.

When you’re about to head to bed, you find a message alert on your phone.

Frankie:

[Good try with the fishing tournament today! Sorry I didn’t get to talk to you today… have a lot of stuff going on. Also Willy wins every year. Think Lewis even adds fish into his crate to make sure it happens lol you’re the real winner in my book ]

You laugh as warmth balloons rapidly in your chest.

This message feels like a true victory for the day and it carries you for the rest of the week. Especially with how hard and brisk this final season of the year is.

Everyone warned you winter would be tough, and with your greenhouse still unfixed you’re realizing how true the warning is.

The days drag and bleed together. You throw yourself into the mines trying to gather more resources but that drains you fast. So you start doing a few errands around town to break up the days.

When Frankie requests a certain amount of wood you scramble quickly to complete the errand.

Inside the blacksmith shop, the familiar warmth greets you. However when Frankie walks out, a weariness looms over him. Heavy bangs hang around his eyes even as he smiles thin.

“Hey.” His voice is weary.

“Hey.” You reply back hesitantly. “I uh…have the wood you asked for.”

“Oh shit really?” He perks up. “Thanks, little farmer.”

You beam proud knowing you managed to at least brighten his day a little.

“Wait here, let me get your payment.”

You almost want to tell him that wasn’t necessary, but Frankie scrambles for his wallet.

“So, how ya been?” He asks.

“Good.” You partially lie. “How have you been?”

“Good.” He answers quickly, however you sense a lie buried.

You weakly smile. Exhausted, Frankie barely grins back and a pang pierces through you.

“Hey… Frankie.” You begin weakly. Frankie, midway pulling out your payment, freezes and blinks towards you.

“Yeah, little farmer what’s up?”

You know this might not mean much but you want to at least tell him.

“I just…” the words get stuck in your throat but with a deep inhale you unclog them.

“You just seem tired. I appreciate how hard you work but I just hope you get some rest when you can.” You tell him earnestly. “And… if there’s anything bothering you, I just wanted you to know you can always talk to me.”

You finish and hope you didn’t overstep.

Frankie’s gemstone eyes flicker stunned and then he sighs.

For the first time, Frankie slips his very notable baseball cap off and runs a hand over his hair.

His soft hat hair, the way you get this new glimpse of Frankie, lights something within your chest. You’ve never seen him without his cap. When he slips the baseball hat back on, his eyes seem cloudy and downcast.

“Thanks little farmer, appreciate it.” He mutters with another sigh. “It’s just stupid shit with my ex wife that’s taking longer than I expected to work out.”

Frankie’s words catapult you straight out of the atmosphere and your blood runs cold.

Ex wife.

Frankie was married before.

“I shouldn’t let it bother me and I don’t wanna be that type of ex husband, but holy shit she can be so damn difficult.” He shakes his head.

This feels like you’re meeting him again for the first time. But you’re grateful he’s sharing this with you.

“I’m sorry you have to deal with this and with her being difficult.” You reply with a soft comfort.

“You’re a good guy Frankie. I hope she doesn’t make you forget that.” You add, meaning those words.

You and him might have just recently become closer, but this entire year you’ve been living in Pelican Town Frankie’s been so sincerely kind. Always being patient with you and how awful you sometimes are to your poor tools. Even just seeing his soft shy smile when you run into him has brightened your day many times.

Frankie’s eyes finally flicker to you. They search your face like he’s waiting for you to react.

His mouth opens slightly.

Then he says your name, breathes it out, and it kickstarts a wild flutter in your heart.

But the door suddenly yanks open wildly behind you, cutting him off rapidly.

Robin, the town’s ever handy carpenter, arrives with a warm welcome drawing all the attention to her. The moment flutters away with her entrance. With a fast goodbye to Frankie and a swift warm greeting to Robin, you scramble fast to leave.

“Wait I didn’t-”

You don’t even wait to hear what Frankie has to say before you’re out of the door and back into the cold winter air. With so many thoughts buzzing in your head like angry hornets you simply head to the mines.

You stay there until the dead of night and drag your body back to farm. Even with how tired you are, your mind still thinks of a certain blacksmith.

The next morning there are two letters waiting for you. One is from Lewis reminding you of the upcoming Winter Star festival. The other is from Frankie.

Your heart jumps fast.

Little farmer,

Thanks for thinking of me and wanting to look out for me. Appreciate it a lot. Also you forgot your payment yesterday, silly! Don’t work yourself too hard either. So you get some rest too, alright?

Hope you swing by again and maybe soon we’ll have time for that hot chocolate :)

He not only sent you the payment for the errand but also a sweet pack of maple bars.

An overwhelming sweetness consumes you and you wish it never leaves.

The next day you plan to make Frankie a hot chocolate to bring him in the morning. But you realize you used the last remaining bits a few nights ago when you snuggled in for a cozy reading night. You mentally kick yourself but decide a green tea will hopefully be the best second option.

The minute Frankie’s shop opens you’re there the first one inside.

“You’re here early.” Frankie greets you with crinkled smiling eyes.

“Thought I’d stop by before I head to the mines.” You reply back brightly.

“It’s not hot cocoa, but I hope it’s a nice treat.” You offer lightly while you hand him the cozy to go drink.

“You got this for me? Thanks so much.” Your heart flutters hearing how warm his voice gets.

He takes a sip and his eye brows shoot up under the cover of his hat. Oh no. Does he not like it?

“Is this green tea?” His voice jumps so excited. “I love green tea!”

His brilliant smile creates a sun bursting light in your chest and you’re a bit grateful now you ran out of hot chocolate.

- ❆ -

Gus is a full five minutes into his handmade candy cane discussion and while you adore the endearing saloon owner, you can only take so much.

The feast of the evening star still warms and eases you though. The twinkling decorations, the absolute grand festive tree, the delicious food - it’s all a cozy blanket to soak into.

So you allow dear Gus to ramble about his candy canes while you sip on your warm drink.

“So who’s your secret gift recipient?”

Frankie’s soft but playful voice catches you off guard and you almost sputter out your drink.

You caught sight of him earlier but he was busy laughing with Pierre and Caroline. Then you got caught up in greeting everyone. Now you’re thankful to finally talk to him.

“You know that’s a secret.” You playfully glare at him.

The blacksmith simply shrugs but the amusement tugging his lips makes you smile.

A beautiful flush crawls over Frankie’s face. A kaleidoscopic joy sparkles in his deep eyes. He seems better and joy fills you.

“So does that mean you’re not gonna tell me what your winter star wish is?” He asks light.

You roll your eyes, but giddiness consumes you fast.

“You tell me yours and I’ll tell you mine.” You surprisingly coyly reply.

Frankie snorts and his face crinkles up adorable.

“If I told ya, you probably wouldn’t even believe me.” He says casually then takes a sip of his drink.

“Wait,” you reply back. “Now you gotta tell me.”

Frankie doesn’t reply for a moment.

In the stillness of this moment, you notice how close he is. He’s leaning right beside you that you can smell the faint smoke of his work, and a crisp cologne you’ve never noticed before.

Then, you see it. His stunning amber gemstone eyes flicker to your lips.

It’s fast, happens in a breath of a moment. Your throat dries. You blame the warm food and festive atmosphere, but you ache to lean closer.

Before you can react or even wait for Frankie’s next move, Mayor Lewis claps loudly, breaking the spell.

“Time to exchange gifts everybody!” He declares.

Your body feels electric and immediately you try settling yourself down. You needed to give your gift.

Jodi, the sweet mother she is, deserves a nice sweet treat and you surprise her with a fully cooked chocolate cake. Her warm excited reaction is a treat itself.

Evelyn, ever the kind grandmother, gives you a pack of her delicious and warm cookies. You hug her tight thanking her.

The festival concludes with a gentle end and fizzles out softly. The clean up is eased, relaxed, and by the time it’s finished an unfortunately long yawn takes over you.

“Can I walk ya home, little farmer? You seem tired.”

Frankie again, so stealthy, suddenly appears out of thin air.

You squeak out a quick yes and his face melts soft.

“So a full year down huh? Hope we haven’t scared you off too badly.” Frankie offers hopeful.

It has been a year, feels like so much yet so little has been composed into your new life here in Pelican Town. You think of the dilapidated community center you’ve been keeping an eye on and working on.

You’ve taken this new journey slowly, at your own pace. You can almost hear your grandpa’s voice cheering you on saying just take it one step at a time.

“No way.” You laugh answering Frankie’s question. If anything, you’ve grown more attached to the valley than you ever imagined. You even tell Frankie this and his face lights up so beautifully it rivals the festival tree standing in the town plaza.

“Everything work out with your ex?” You ask gently and then sputter out an apology if you’ve overstepped.

Frankie chuckles. “Nah, I’m glad we can talk about it.”

That comforts you.

“And yeah, thankfully everything worked out.” Frankie grins sleepily. “I’m still really sorry you had to hear that.”

“No worries! And like what you just said, I’m glad I can be here for you. That’s what friends are for, remember?” You reassure him.

“Yeah, friends.” The way his voice hangs on the word friends gets tangled in your chest.

A quietness clouds the walk.

“So Gus tell you about homemade candy canes?” Until Frankie’s light voice breaks the silence and you laugh.

It might have been a slow start becoming friends with Frankie. But you’re glad, grateful, to finally arrive here.

Arriving at your farm you thank Frankie again.

“If it wasn’t so late I really would invite you in for that hot chocolate I’ve been promising you.” You sigh. You even begged Gus for a new pack just to be stocked up.

“Don’t worry about it. There will be another night, promise.” His words are gilded in a promise you want to treasure.

He suddenly says your name and now under the light of your porch, Frankie seems bashful as his eyes flicker around.

“I, uh, kind of have something for you.”

That takes you by surprise.

“Couldn’t give it to you earlier cause I know Mayor Lewis would’ve had my ass.” Frankie dryly snorts and then pulls out something concealed in the classic brown paper wrapping he uses at his shop.

“Happy feast of the winter star, little farmer.” He delicately hands it to you and your eyes feel as if they’re going to pop out any moment.

You cry in protest that he didn’t need to get you anything and guilt rushes in. You didn’t get him anything.

“Eh,” he shrugs. “No pasa nada.”

You’ve only caught small bits of him speaking Spanish before and now hearing him speak so casual sounds beautiful.

Unwrapping the surprise gift, you discover he got you an iridium bar and you inhale sharply.

You haven’t even been able to forge one yet. The most precious, coveted, type of metal bar and he just casually gave one to you right now.

“Francisco Morales, this is too much!” You shriek.

He laughs buoyantly and loud at your reaction.

“Trust me, it’s not. Besides, seen how hard you work. How much you do for me and the town. You deserve it.”

You don’t want to get emotional, but the tears clogging your throat say otherwise. Those tears and the bubbling emotions, gratitude and all other shades of thankfulness, overtake you. Before you can stop yourself you rush to Frankie and collide into him.

You hug him best as you can but realize what you’ve just done. You don’t even know if he’s okay with close contact like this.

Immediately Frankie wraps you in his arms and squeezes you back. He’s all encompassing, beautifully so.

Your mind, your thoughts, everything melt as you embrace him back.

“Thank you.” You earnestly tell him.

“Anytime.” Frankie whispers back.

You would never tell Frankie this… but your winter star wish came true because you couldn’t have wished for a better way to bid such a sweet farewell to this season here in the valley.

[eunoiaastralwings]

Fragments of Blue

featuring Bucky x reader

fandom mcu- pre catcw

a/n based on my idea here - here part one (can be read alone too - I think LMAO).

warnings running away ? - idk if there was anything else tell me otherwise

You were simply lying on the on the couch bored when he came in again – with presuming a packet of bread in his hands.

You momentarily looked over the man that was once the deadly assassin – the one who had been assigned to bring you back to your father and his Hydra, every time you tried to escape or occasionally protect you.

He was always so anxious and nervous now – now you saw the real man being the Winter Soldier, trapped underneath Hydra’s torture who was finally free.

But the world didn’t see it like that however – the world still saw him as a murder and a true weapon of evil and you could almost see he saw himself like that too now.

Like he was signing the picture the outside world painted him as.

You always wondered why he came back for you – you were Alexander Pierce’s daughter after all. You were once even called as Hydra’s daughter by your father’s men.

But unlike your father you didn't want to be part of Hydra – but you were forced to know Hydra, including the Winter Soldier.

Little did you know, the blue-eyed man before you remembered as the Winter Soldier, he told to watch over you and made sure you didn't escape from Hydra like you tried countless times.

It was like you were something constant – something different than the usual assassinations he was tasked with.

You father was dead – yet you weren’t sure how to feel about that, he was your only family after all – though he did put Hydra above you.

Once the man was freed from the mind control and for whatever reason he had broken into your father’s house helped her escape and went on the run together.

You had known the moment he stepped in – he wasn’t Blue anymore.

He was the man behind those blue eyes again – still he seemed to be refusing to tell you his real name.

“So. . . you going to tell me your real name or do I keep calling you, Blue?” She asked – as he places the packet of bread on the small table in tiny rundown apartment you were sharing.

You had hated always calling him Soldat or the Winter Soldier, like your father and Hydra did - so you always stuck with calling him Blue, because of his blue eyes. He didn’t remember his own name - and no one would tell him or you either. . .and you wanted to make him feel just a little human. . .

He looked up giving you a once over – as if still debating inside him whether to trust you or not.

To be honest the only reason you were was because of him anyways.

You were almost certain he was going to brush you off again.

But then you heard a small mutter.

“Bucky. . .”

************************************************************************

You disguised yourself the best you could, wearing one of Bucky’s baseball caps – as you looked around the market stalls, trying to follow him.

You were always annoying him – that’s for sure. He had specifically instructed you to stay at the apartment but you clearly hadn't.

“Y/N you shouldn't be here. You’re not supposed to be out without my permission.”

He sounds annoyed.

“I deserve to at least see the sun, Bucky!”

You scowled at his behavior.

“I get it. . . But we can't let anyone find the either of us!”

He sighs.

“The only reason you’re not in the base is because it's me babysitting you.”

He mutters.

“You’re not babysi-“

You tripped over something because of your vintage heeled boots as you tried to follow – needing to hold onto Bucky in case you fell face flat on the ground.

You sighed – knowing he was gonna be mad.

“I told you not to wear those heels!”

He glared – now mad with you.

“Oh, I’m sorry – I didn’t exactly get to stop by at home to grab shoes before going on the run!”

You answered sarcastically.

“Don’t talk back to me. I’m only looking out for you. You really need to take more precautions!”

He warned.

You knew he was mad.

“I cannot go bare feet!”

You still stubbornly scowled –  knowing what he was picking at how you failed to escape multiple times during their time in Hydra and how he as the Winter Soldier always dragged her back kicking and screaming.

“Well, at the light’s still there, princess!

He grumbles and grabs you by the wrist. He pulls her along with a grumpy looking glare.

“We don’t have time for this. I have to keep you safe!”

He mutters, that was something he always said – but Bucky himself didn’t know why he was keeping you safe.

He didn’t know he came running to you – when he was freed from the mind control.

But here you were now.

You simply rolled your eyes and followed him to a farmers’ market.

He glances over at you.

“Why can’t you just listen to me for a change!”

Bucky sounded exhausted and anxious – he walks fast with you still holding your hand and you were trying to keep up with his pace.

Once again – stubborn as ever you didn't answer. The farmers’ market was large, with lots of stands and stalls, some selling fruit, spices/herbs, meat, or vegetables, others selling handmade crafts.

You easily got distracted with handmade crafts and toys.

Bucky looked – noticing how you got easily distracted, he just sighs an tries to not get annoyed.

He notices as your eyes were filled wonder, even glancing at your hair too.

You seem to have a soft, sweet face with the eyes of an angel.

“Why cant you just stay focused for once Y/N. . .”

He said – being a hypocrite as he found himself, getting distracted by you.

Before his eyes dart around nervously as they search for any threats. He seems on edge – always looking around as he looks for Hydra members or even agents.

He then went over to the fruit vendors – still keeping a close eye on you while spoke in Romanian trying buy a few plums for you and him.

You then picked up a little wooden carved wolf smiling at it as Bucky looks at the fruits.

Bucky glares at you – you smile and your beauty makes him stop and stare for a few moments.

“Y/N, put that down. We don't have time for that.”

He said – now coming back over to you.

“I told you we're on the run and we can’t risk letting the enemy find either of us.”

He whispers – now close enough only you could hear him.

You sighed, a small pout on your lips as you put back the carved wolf.

Then spots a grumpy unhappy looking plushie bear.

“Oh look! It's you!”

You said – picking up the blue grumpy looking plushie bear.

“Put that down you brat! We don’t have time for this!”

He looks at you – there was a look of annoyance and frustration.

Bucky was also nervous as he looks for any signs of a threat – and he glances at the plushie.

He thinks of it as a waste of time.

“I’m buying it!”

You said to Bucky.

“No, you aren't. Put it down. It’s a waste of good money!”

He tries to reach for the plushie to take it from you.

“It’s not wasting if I love it!”

You said – cradling it protectively close.

“It is also wasting since we’re on the run and it’s not the time for toys!”

He seems annoyed as he tries and snatch the plushie bear away from her.

 “Ooo, ok blue bear, I’m gonna call you Bucky!"

You hugged the plushie bear.

“Stop it you brat! You are so annoying!”

Bucky said annoyed – but he thinks you looked adorable.

Though it made him roll his eyes – when she insisted call a plushie by his name.

You just held it protectively close.

“Give it to me!”

Bucky tried to forcefully take it from you.

You held it protectively – “no!”

You scowled.

Bucky tried to take the plushie away, he grabs the plushie’s arm as he tries to force it away from you as you tried to protect it.

 “Give it here kid!”

“I’m 25, not a kid!”

You argued – though it seemed hilarious right now.

“You are acting like one.”

He glares at you – still holding onto the plushie’s arm as he refuses to give it to you.

“No!”

You said again.

It was then Bucky spots a few familiar looking agents up ahead behind her.

Bucky seems to pause – then glances again over at the agents, who are still unaware of their presence.

He looks back at you.

“We need to get out of here!”

He tries to move you in a direction, but you were still holding onto the stupid plushie.

You frowned looking behind yourself – your eyes widened and she froze seeing the familiar Hydra general blending in with the crowd in casual clothes as he and his men were seemingly looking for them.

Bucky grabs the plushie, tossing it aside – then grabs your hand and pulls you in a different direction.

He is now trying to act fast as he leads you away from the general and agents. He seems to be on edge as he eyes dart back and forth quickly trying to find a safe place.

"Just..."

You looked around then at Bucky – if the acted casual too blending in with the crowd, they wouldn’t be spotted.

"Blue, put your arm around me and pretend to laugh at something I said!"

You say seeing more agents – the former nickname you had for him slipping out in the mist of the situation.

Bucky has an annoyed look on his face – but he still decides to follow your plan for the moment – seeing how it made sense.

So he puts his arm around you and pretend to laugh at something you said.

“Heh. . .Heh, Heh heheh. . . Very funny. . .”

He said – and you almost had to stop from laughing out loudly yourself at how horrible that sounded.

So you simply rolled her eyes amused – seemingly their role-playing worked as the agents paid them no attention and walked past without noticing either of them.

“You need to work for on your acting skills though!”

You said – once they passed.

“I’m not an actor. I'm a super soldier, princess. . .”

He mutters – annoyed by your comment as he seems to be on edge – always looking around nervously.

“We’re still not safe. . .”

You rolled your eyes again at his former words – “anyways let’s go!”

Bucky was still seemingly on edge as he follows you.

He keeps looking behind him to see if they are still being followed.

His blue eyes were darting around nervously.

You had almost tripped onto the escalators – again because of your heeled boots.

Bucky scowling seeing almost trip again – but he still tries not to yell at you as he glares and sighs, shaking his head.

“You really need to get some new shoes, doll. . .”

He keeps his eyes darting around as he follows you.

You were going to answer – but her eyes widened as you saw a few agents taking the opposite side of the escalator – but you were crowded in you and couldn't move.

Bucky stops and freezes as he spots them too.

“Crap. . . We have to go.”

He tries pull you away in a different direction – his eyes dart around nervously as he looks for any escape routes.

The escalators were too close – you’d be spotted.

You looked around then suddenly said to Bucky – “kiss me!”

Bucky pauses and his eyes dart to you as he looks at you in disbelief.

He blinks in surprise.

 “What?”

He says confused – nervous, an unsure of what to do.

“Why?”

He says, seeming a bit skeptical of your plan.

“Physical displays of affection make people uncomfortable!”

You said blurt out – knowing the agents will look away seeing a couple kiss.

Bucky still seems unsure of it but he looks at you with the most serious expression.

He sighs and thinks about it for a second as he makes a hard decision.

“. . . Okay. . .”

He says as he slowly leans towards you to kiss you – he still has a annoyed look on his face but tries to relax.

He kisses you softly and he sighs.

He still feels annoyed about your plan – but he seems a bit relieved that they didn't get caught by the agents as he looks at you.

He’s still not sure if he likes you or not– j but he still seems to really enjoy the kiss.

You both then slowly pull away the moment the agents were out of sight.

But stops kissing you – the look of annoyance reappearing.

“You’re crazy.”

He sighs and rubs his face – “. . .I can’t believe I kissed you. . .”

“Oh please, it’s not I like just kissed Richard Madden or something!”

You grumbled sarcastically – as you reached the floor.

He looked at you with the same serious expression – but it quickly changes into a pissed off expression.

“. . .What? Richard, who?”

Bucky sounds agitated as he looks at you.

He’s not only annoyed by what you said – but the kiss. He tries to put the kiss out of his mind.

“Richard Madden. . .? The British actor. . .?” You said “You know the guy who played in Bodyguard or even prince charming in the live action Cinderella!”

“I don't care about no British actor we just kissed!”

He scoffs as he glances away angrily.

“. . .And?”

You ask – raising an eyebrow.

Bucky was shocked by your response as he looks at you in disbelief.

“You’re. . . You’re not embarrassed?”

He asks.

“Well. . . yes. . . but hey, it got us out of there!”

You said.

“. . .Right.”

He grumbles looks away as is pissed. He rubs his face in annoyance again and he just tries to forget about it.

“What?”

You ask – seeing the annoyed grumpy expression on his face.

“Nothing. . . Nothing at all. Just shut up and stop talking about Ricker Maddened.”

He grumbles – getting you both back out into streets again.

“Richard Madden.”

You corrected him.

“And – I don’t care.”

He grumbles under his breath.

You just rolled your eyes as he quickly pulled you back into the apartment – that kiss continuously replaying his mind. . .

He’d be lying if he said – the warmth of your lips against his didn’t feel good or made his heart race. . .

Perhaps, there was a reason why he came for you. . .

tagging everyone who was interested in the first part ( One more part then the story will be finished ):

@kiekiekiki @ijustneedpopcorn @geminigengar @batsyforyou </3

PART 1 | PART 2

And yes - I used references from catws xD

[queenie-official]

NAVIGATION

Requests are always open!!

✨🛼🌷About me 🌷🛼✨

Ao3 Wattpad

Side Blogs: #1 #2 #4 #5 #6 (#3 is a secret 🌝)

Coming soon: TBD…

Most Recent Fic: ‘Fall In Love With Me’ w/modern!Ani

Anakin Skywalker Au’s:

Summer Love series *completed*

The royal Heart series (bridgerton Au!) *Hiatus*

‘First Kiss’ with modern!Ani

‘Sandy Love’ with modern!Ani

‘Grey sweatpants’ with modern!Ani

‘Baby it’s cold outside’ with modern!Ani

‘Winter Wonderland’ with modern!Ani

‘Friendship’ With modern!Ani

Nicknames with cowboy!Ani

unspoken rule with cowboy!Ani

Wild, Wild West cowboy!Ani

🖤corresponding with mafia!Ani

AJ (Takers 2010):

getting to know him

Anakin Imagines/concepts:

cowboy!Anakin

Late night drives with modern!Ani

modern!Ani after a fight

dancing in front of modern!Ani

Bridgerton!Anakin

mafia!Ani

casual dominance with modern!Ani

casual dominance pt.2

scene that reminds me of mafia!Ani

college professor!Anakin

Anakin thoughts:

modern!Ani in a baseball cap

modern!Ani in the fall

Car guy!Ani

modern!ani energy

Modern!Ani at a halloween party

not just the men, but the women and the children too

Sassy men apocalypse

Modern!Ani and Obi-Wan

human furnace Ani

black cat/golden retriever Ani

Skywalker Necklace

Anakin and obi-wan girlies unite🤝

Give him the credit he deserves

Sam Monroe thoughts:

him<3

my bestie being funny

Stephen Glass thoughts:

he’s got my full attention

Hayden Christensen Thoughts:

first response when seeing him

NEED HIM BADLY

i’d let him ruin me

he’s my drug

giggling and blushing uncontrollably

butterflies

Howard Stark Thoughts:

fandom

Ahkmenrah thoughts:

babygorl

scammed

cutest Mummy

Derek Saurez thoughts:

derek edit pt.1

derek edit pt.2

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

It Was Only Supposed to be a One Night Stand (part 8)

Tw: Yandere, Montgomery came from a dysfunctional family, fat shaming, like bullying from parents

LOOK AT MY NEW SERIES THAT COMBINES YVES AND MONTGOMERY TOGETHER

Part 9

After four long days and three steamy nights, you finally reached the homestead that Montgomery was raving about.

It is massive. Lively too.

Even during winter, the animals were kicking up a fuss inside their respective barns. The main, open fields didn't seem to be growing anything, but you can see a couple of greenhouses side by side. The silos tower all the nearby buildings. Everything seems all over the place yet organized at the same time, perhaps you're not well versed in the art of farming, you wouldn't get it.

He drove further down to a large, two storey farmhouse. The wooden planks worn with age and memories, plants creeping from under the sheet of powdery white. Montgomery parked right next to five other trucks that clearly saw better days. You turned your head to see that there is another living quarter, this time with two cars, but four vacant parking spots.

Typical of him, he gets out of the car first to open your door.

You held onto his hand as your boots flatten the snow below you. He has a protective arm around your waist, making you sure that you won't fall.

"We made it home." He pulled his scarf down to give you a kiss on the forehead. "Praise lord, we made it safe and sound." Montgomery rubbed your back up and down.

Praise lord? That's new. You never pegged him to be religious, seeing how he is behind bedroom and motel doors.

He struck his knuckles against the sturdy door that's protected by a metal gate. You eyed the rust coating them, wondering how old their properties are.

With this much resources, they should have been filthy rich. Why is everyone cramped into these two houses?

The door swung open to reveal an older male, with greying hair and a baseball cap. He is a lot shorter than Montgomery himself.

"Monty, my boy!" He exclaimed and excitedly opened the gate. Both men flung themselves onto each other and had a hug fest.

"I missed ya, pa." The older gentleman lets out a hearty laugh.

"Missed ya too, Ugly."

Ugly? That's... an odd thing to call your son. You can see that Montgomery's smile faltered a bit.

"So? Gonna introduce me to this beauty here?" His father smiled at you.

"This is (name), my partner." Montgomery clasped his hands on your shoulders and pulled you closer to him. "Born n' raised in the city." He shot his father a look, as if hinting to not make you too uncomfortable with the countryside lifestyle.

"Huh. Now how did ya' get to meet my son? I know y'all city dwellers have sky-high expectations for lovers, especially in the looks department ." He guffawed and slapped Montgomery on the back. "I guess his heart of gold won ya' over."

Your boyfriend looks uncomfortable.

You changed the subject, asking if you could come in due to the freezing weather.

"Come on in! A friend of Monty is a friend of mine, I ain't have much from his side. So, I'm excited to get to know ya!" He steps aside to let the both of you in.

It definitely has a rustic aesthetic. Cushions and rugs worn and tattered. There are three German Shepherds sleeping on the couches. A fluffy grey cat sits atop one of them, eyes serenely closed.

The hearth is crackling loudly and its heat is warming the house up. You looked around to see numerous framed pictures of his family on all sides of the walls.

There are a dizzying number of different faces that you can identify. You wonder if he had a thousand siblings or these are including his cousins and niblings.

"Do I hear that Monty the Ugly is home?!" A high pitched voice rang from another room.

"Ya' sure did, Sugar! Our boy is home!"

A woman of similar age to his father, came rushing in. In her arms held a large wooden bowl filled with what looks like batter of some sort.

She set the bowl down on a table somewhere and hurled herself to Montgomery. She gave him a bone-crushing hug, it was so tight that your boyfriend had the air knocked out of his lungs. That's where he gets his habit from.

She whipped her head towards you, her eyes lit up even more and you could almost feel her gyrating on the spot.

"Oh! Who's this little sweet thing right here?" She let her son go before skittering towards you. His mother reminded you a lot of a hyperactive mouse.

"That's Monty's lover, can you believe it?!" His father replied with great enthusiasm.

She let out a squeal and squeezed your cheeks. "No! I can't. Praise Jesus, he finally found someone who loves him past his outside!"

"That's enough now, ma." He forcefully pried her away from you. She stumbled backward a little, her husband came to her aid but before he could defend her, she had something to say.

"What? I'm just showin' our guest how we welcome folks like them!" Whined his mother. Montgomery ignored them, preferring to inspect your face instead, he caressed your cheeks as he whispered, "I'm sorry about them."

"And I raised ya' better than to put your hands on your mother like that!" His father had a sudden change of tone, his face contorted into something a lot less friendly.

"I know that's right, Monty! The city corrupted your values, ya' should have stayed back and helped with the family business." His mother spat with malice.

"Really!? Right now? In front of my sweetheart?" Montgomery retorted with equal offense. He stood in front of you protectively.

They snapped their head towards you and took a moment of silence. Their animosity dropped as fast as it arrived, they returned to their smiles and giggles.

"Silly ol' us, where are our manners? You ain't even know what to call us!" The father hooked his arm around your neck and gave you a noogie. You wince at the sudden touch and pain.

"You can call me 'ma', and him 'pa'. Forget about the Mr and Mrs crap, we're all family here!" His mother clapped her hands excitedly.

"Hands off!" Montgomery's digits curled around his father's wrist, yanking it away from your head. He shoved him away from you and pressed you close into him. "Don't fucking touch them!" He shouted.

"What the hell has gotten into ya'? We're your parents, for god's sake! You don't get to talk to us like that!" Retaliated his father.

"Precisely, Monty! The city's no good for you. If only you listened to us and pastor--"

You interrupted their potentially disastrous argument, asking to meet the rest of the family. Like before, they immediately forget about their anger and go straight to being lovingly sweet again.

"Yes! I'll call those lazy bones down right now." The mother took a deep breath and began screeching their names, she moved towards the staircase and continued yelling. You had to plug your ears with your fingers, it was as loud as the train. Maybe even louder.

"While my wife's callin' them down, c'mon, I'll teach you their names." His father wanted to put a hand on your shoulder, but Montgomery growled at him. He rolled his eyes and let his hand drop to the side.

You stood in front of the second biggest framed picture in the living room. You let out a sigh of relief, at least you only need to remember the faces and names of 10 people, as opposed to 70 in the largest family picture.

All of them wore the same flannel shirt and type of jeans.

"That's Noel, our youngest. He's turnin' 25 this Christmas. Be careful with him, he's the softest among all of us. He just can't take a joke!" He pointed at the boy who had his hair bleached, his roots were showing. You took note of his rainbow shoelaces.

"That's Baby-Ruth. She's sweeter than chocolate, she's the only one showin' willingness to help out around the farm. Unlike a certain someone who decided to abandon us." He narrowed his eyes at Montgomery, and his father received a mean glare back. Baby-Ruth is the only glowing one in this picture who genuinely looks happy to be in it.

"Ah! Rufus the dog! He's a lean, mean machine, lemme tell ya that. He does all the heavy liftin', he could carry a full-grown cow across the field and not break a sweat! Just hopin' he would lay off the moonshine." Rufus looks horrendous in this picture, eyebags, tousled hair, and sunken cheeks.

"And that's your loverboy, Monty the Ugly!" He pointed at a younger-looking Montgomery.

You said that he looks handsome in this picture, you didn't understand why he's being assigned the title. But truth be told, he just looks average.

Upon hearing that, Montgomery felt his heart swell and he became bashful. But the moment was ruined when his father decided to laugh in your face.

"I guess big places like the city have some big variety of tastes. Not here, though."

You tried defending your boyfriend, feeling upset that he's unfairly treated in this family. Or maybe you felt offended when he implied that your standards are low. You said that he was well sought after in the city, people liked how strong and rugged he was. There is no way he's considered unattractive here.

What you said is not necessarily true in Montgomery's experiences, but it made him melt nonetheless.

You fully expected a shouting match with his father like earlier. But he only brushed it off and took it as a joke.

"Stop yankin' my chains, ain't no way the majority prefer... this-" He gestured towards your boyfriend. "-Over, this!" He pointed to the next family member.

You wouldn't admit it out loud. But whoever his father is pointing at is definitely a hunk. He has a million-dollar smile and striking hazel eyes. The man has his hair slicked back into a neat fashion, you can see his muscles peeking out of his flannel. He knows how to flaunt his good side.

"Our poster boy, Beau! All the ladies in town and out of town is chasin' after him. That's why, he's the face of our products. Shame that he married a woman that didn't quite match his level."

You asked him if he's calling his wife hideous.

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Somethin' like that. You're a much better fit for him, but I guess to each their own."

You shot Montgomery a look, your mouth agape. Is his family always like this? He looked away shamefully, starting to regret visiting home.

"Next! Betty the fatty! She could never seem to shed that weight." He chuckled. "I guess Mama's fried chicken's too good for her to resist! Breaking a chair or five never stopped her from getting seconds or thirds or fifteenths during Thanksgiving!"

You brought your hands to your head. You told him that they must be insane, Betty may be chubbier than the rest of them, but she looks normal. Perhaps even thinner than you are, given her height. Either way, She doesn't deserve to be talked about like that.

"Ah, don't you worry. I was just kiddin'. She only broke four chairs with her fatass. Plus, she can take a joke. Unlike a certain wannabe blondie." Before you could even argue about anything else, Montgomery squeezed your shoulder gently. You turned your head to see him shaking his head, pleading with you to drop it. So you did.

"We got the other end of the spectrum, Emerson the Skeleton!" Horrified, your eyes trailed to the end of his fingertips. He's pointing to an emaciated woman who has a scarf tied to her head, it looks like she's trying to cover up part of her hair. She didn't appear to be smiling and her eyes looked vacant.

"She's lazy. Barely helping out with the farm and always sleepin' in. Always spendin' her hard-earned check at the hospital, I wonder what's so interestin' over there."

You cannot tell if he was joking or if he truly did not understand she was suffering from some sort of illness.

"We worry for her, she's nearly 40 and unmarried. I reckon it's cause she ain't have no meat on her bones. Men like to go for something with a little more substance, ya' get what I'm saying?" He nudges you in the rib using his elbow.

Montgomery was about to jump in, but you raised a palm to him. Telling him that it's fine.

"And finally, our oldest. Mary-Grace. Can't believe she's turnin' 50. Time has gone by so fast." He has a wistful look on his face. The oldest looked... tortured. She seems so angry yet so trapped. Her deep wrinkles show you unseen expressions.

Interestingly enough, he has nothing much to say about her.

"Then, there's us! Me, Robert Yeller and my lovely wife, Anna-Mae Yeller. We've been married for 50 long years. She's just a couple months older than I am, but she acts just like my mother!" They both look the happiest. Everyone except Baby-Ruth looked like they were attending a funeral in comparison.

You asked how old are they now.

"We turned 66 this year." The gears started turning in your head. You rather not think about it in the end.

"-meet the new addition to our family!" Your ears perked up at the voice of Anna-Mae. You turned around to see Noel, Emerson and Mary-Grace Yeller. Your eyes rolled down to see a gaggle of children, excitedly chattering among each other.

The children squealed when they saw you and Montgomery. They were like high-speed bullets the way they came running. They latched onto you, their weight making you lose your balance and fall to the ground.

You groaned as they laughed and hugged you close.

"I know y'all are excited to meet your new pibling. But guys, git off them, you're going to scare my Sweetheart away!" He shooed them off you, they shrieked playfully as Montgomery exaggerated his stomps, chasing them around the room until they slipped off to somewhere else to play.

Montgomery seems to get along with the children well. You wondered if he wanted children later in life, that may be a problem given the economy is on a downward trend.

Your boyfriend helped you up, checking you for any injuries sustained.

You turned your face to look at his siblings. They're... nothing like their parents personality-wise. They stared at you cautiously, a conflicted look rested on their faces as soon as their eyes landed on Montgomery.

There was tension in the air, Mary-Grace furrowed her eyebrows, looking at Montgomery. Then he turned to you, and an unreadable expression emerged.

"Welcome. Make yerself' at home." She was curt. She turned around and walked away.

"Hello." Emerson rasps. She gave you a small wave and a polite smile. She too, left the room promptly.

Noel looked you up and down, seemingly judging you.

"How was life like in the city?" He ignored you, asking Montgomery.

"Show my partner some respect, if you know what's good for you." Seethed Montgomery through his gritted teeth.

"Sup." He gave you an upward nod. You mirrored his behavior.

"Were you happy?" Asked Noel, treating you like you're invisible. "Were they any less 'sensitive' than me?"

"Noel." He snarled. "Not now."

To your surprise, Noel didn't inherit any of their Southern accents. He almost sounds... Californian.

Noel snorted. "Welcome to the Yeller household. I can tell you're going to love it here." The sarcasm dripping from his tone definitely didn't go undetected. He went back upstairs, you heard a loud slam shortly after.

"Heh, guess someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed, amirite?" The couple laughed in unison.

Montgomery rubbed your arm up and down. "Let's go." He whispered.

He excused himself needing to set the luggage down in the bedroom. You followed him to the car, not wanting to be in the same room as the unstable elderly couple.

What have you gotten yourself into?

[snackara]

Strange Catch

Washington, 1992

Tom had days where he regretted becoming a fisherman, and today would be one of those days. Although he didn’t know it yet.

Most of the time he enjoyed being out on the open ocean, miles away from any land. He preferred the long months hauling in salmon with his crew to the lonely winters on the coast. Though there were some days when a crew mate would piss him off, or something would break, and he regretted not being able to get away from it.

Tom’s strife today, however, would be a little different.

He leaned against the railing, taking a long drag from his cigarette. The boat gently rocked and creaked beneath him, and the salt stung his nose. Apart from the faint thumping of boots on wood nearby, there was a tender silence he found calming.

“You’re sulking again,” someone said from behind him.

Tom turned and saw the first mate approaching, his dark brown curls spilling out from under a baseball cap.

“I am not sulking, Steven, I’m just enjoying the silence. You ought to try it some time,” Tom replied, a smile creeping over his lips.

Steven chuckled and leaned on the railing next to Tom. He scratched at his stubbly chin and scanned the wide expanse of gray beyond their boat. “Sad the season’s almost over?”

Tom shrugged. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t. You know how much I love it out here.”

“Yeah. I do.” Steven rubbed his hands together, trying to warm them despite the chilly autumn air. He sighed. “You know, you’re welcome to visit us in Seattle anytime. Carol and I hate to see you alone, especially during the winter.”

“Ah, I’ll make it. I always do,” Tom waved his hand dismissively.

“I know, I know. I just—” Steven straightened up. “Actually, I insist that you visit us. Come over to our house for the holidays, don’t spend it wasting away in a cabin. Bring something for the kids, that sort of thing. We’d love to have you around for a couple days.”

Tom took another drag of his cigarette, deliberately giving himself a moment to contemplate the offer.

“Is her family going to be there?”

“Oh, God no. Not after last year,” Steven said.

“The hell happened last year?” Tom raised an eyebrow, amused already.

“Well, her mother—” Steven was cut off by the loud plodding of boots.

A younger, scrappier deckhand ran towards them. His face was pale, and he trembled a little when he spoke.

“Captain, you need to come see this.”

Tom straightened up and turned to the younger man. “What’s the problem, boy?”

“It— Christ, I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s big and— Just come look,” the boy turned and jogged to the main deck.

Tom glanced at Steven, putting his cigarette out on the railing. They followed the young man, and found the crew crowded around the port side, shouting over each other. Tom pushed his way through, with most of the men parting as they saw him. Three men stayed at the very edge of the boat, practically clinging to the gunwale. Two gripped a net, trying to heave something up.

“What the hell is going on here?” Tom shouted above the rest. They went quiet.

One of the men turned to Tom— Roger, he remembered. “Something’s caught in the net. We’re trying to haul it in and see what it is. But it’s a strong one.”

Tom felt even more confused. “What exactly is it?”

Roger opened and closed his mouth a few times, at a loss for words. Finally he just grabbed the net and tried to help pull it up. “Take a look for yourself.”

Tom remained dumbfounded, looking between the men and trying to figure out what had them so spooked. Finally he grabbed onto the net and attempted to help hoist it up. Whatever was caught in the net, it thrashed violently and pulled back with great strength.

During his forty-one years of living, Tom had seen a lot. He had grown up on a ranch in Nebraska, and during his childhood he had seen plenty of cattle born, die, and contract nasty diseases he wouldn’t wish upon any animal. For his eighteenth birthday, he was shipped off to Vietnam and saw his comrades killed during an ambush. A bullet had shattered his kneecap as well, and the pain had become his closest companion. When all was said and done he returned home to find him and his fellow soldiers painted as the bad guys.

He figured he had seen everything a man could during one lifetime. But when he and his crew mates finally managed to lift the net out of the water, he found he was wrong.

At first he thought it was an orca calf, but it was far too slim. It was a pale, almost dusty blue. It let out a hiss as it was withdrawn from the water. Everyone flinched at the noise. Tom and the three other crew mates swung the net around, dumping it on the deck. It took Tom a moment to fully register what he was seeing.

The bottom half of the creature was a long, black fish’s tail. It wound about and thrashed wildly against the net, its fin snapping like a flag during a storm.

Its upper half, however, was human. Somewhat. Scales dotted its skin, clustering by the fins on its arms and back. Long nails, or perhaps claws, slashed at the net in an attempt to free itself. And its face… Two slits served as a nose, and its mouth was gaunt with a few sharp fangs poking out. Its eyes were completely back, except for the pupils, which were the strange color of aged parchment. Dark locks of hair fell down to its shoulders, hanging heavy and wet.

The creature thrashed again, letting out a horrible hiss that made Tom cover his ears. It bit at the net to no avail.

Tom looked around his crew, as though to ask if this was some sick joke they were pulling on him. By their open mouths and wide eyes, they were just as shocked as he was. He looked again to their catch. No wonder Roger had been so speechless. Tom himself had no idea what to say. What was he supposed to do with this thing?

He was the captain for a reason though. He knew he needed to take action, and quickly. “Tie it up,” he cleared his throat and spoke a little louder. “Tie it up, but don’t kill it. Not yet.”

The crew hesitated, but at a sharp look from Tom two men leapt forward, grabbing a rope and attempting to untangle the beast. It hissed again and tried to swipe at them, but they managed to bind its hands together.

“Steven,” Tom called.

His first mate rushed up to his side, straighter then Tom had ever seen him stand before. “Yes, captain?”

Tom stroked his beard thoughtfully. “What do you think this would sell for?”

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

🎄MERRY CHRISTMAS TO AAAAAALLLLL THE MOOTS!🎄

@rascalentertainments @thesafireartist @fellow-human-writer @ishadow246 @tumblingdownthefoxden

@your-ne1ghbor @flicklikesstuff @cielos-pintados @chillwildwave

@cocoapowderpictures @spectator-zee

I wanted to give you guys a little something for Christmas, so here’s a little short story/one-shot. It’s not tied to the Marcach Chronicles or Upon a Star in any way, but I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless. I think I needed a little refresher since The Marcach Chronicles has been kicking my ass lately. Who knows, maybe this will expand into a novella of its own someday.

[danielharriss]

The Enduring Charm of Varsity Jackets for Men

The men's varsity jacket, also referred to as the letterman jacket, has a long history dating as far back as the late 19th century. Born from the emblem of achievement for athletes, it has long since passed that category. Now the mens jacket varsity is recognized, not only for its rich history within the world of sport but also for its versatility, style, and universal appeal. Every wardrobe would benefit from having one in it, whether casual for everyday or the type of statement piece that elevates a wardrobe: the varsity jacket for men.

A Brief History of Varsity Jackets

In 1865, Harvard University registered the first-ever appearance of the varsity jacket. It was worn primarily by the baseball players of the university to signify their athletic prowess. With wool bodies, leather sleeves, and those all-important chenille patches bearing the team letters, early jackets became really the norm of school phenomena in their transition and transformation from the sporting field to the streets and runways.

The varsity jacket will be found making even greater strides in the 20th century when it became a fashion staple, embraced by stars, singers, and all those who have an instinct toward modern fashion. Today, it stands unlimited by youth, individualism, and a pinch of nostalgia. Yet while the history remains, the varsity jacket for men has seen its share of design developments over time to match the modern world.

rleatherjackets.com

How to Wear your Varsity Jacket for Men

Styling up with a varsity jacket can be a fairly easy thing to do. Here are some tips to let you strut into town in full confidence using this classic piece:

Casual Cool: To be casual in one's everyday life, throw on that varsity jacket on some plain tees and slim, tight-fit jeans and white sneakers. If you're going for maximum versatility, then get a jacket that is in neutral colours, like black, navy, or grey.

Street Style Edge: Wear your best hoodie, set it up with some distressed jeans, and keep some high tops. Then layer the varsity jacket on top. Add a cap or a beanie to bring that affordable cool vibe.

Smart-Casual Sophistication: Make it classy by pairing the varsity jacket with a neatly pressed button-down shirt and chinos. Finish off the style with loafers or Chelsea boots for a touch of sophistication.

Retro Charm: Have the accurate old-school vibe with a varsity jacket that comes entirely complete with its flashy colours and traditional patches. Team that with some straight or bootcut jeans and retro sneakers to create the real old-school look.

What Should You Consider While Choosing a Men's Varsity Jacket?

There are a number of things to consider when looking for the best varsity jacket for men:

Material: While searching for varsity jackets, choose those made of quality materials: wool for the body, real leather for the sleeves. With these two materials, you will get durability and a feel of luxury at the same time.

Fit: The fit is one of the most important things when it comes down to how good or bad your varsity jacket looks on you. Get one that's snug but not too much so that you can layer under; at your wrist the sleeves should hit, and the hem should sit at your waist.

Design: From bright colour combinations to simple and clean, varsity jackets come in many designs. Choose one that's appropriate for your aesthetic. Don't be afraid to experiment with different designs and prints, patches, and embroidery for uniqueness.

Functionality: And what's more, check practical little details like hidden pockets, buttons, closure systems, and lining. Pockets multiplied on a stylish varsity jacket would spell function; it would deny double duty winter-quilted lining.

Renowned Labels for Guys' Varsity Jackets

In case you're all set to obtain a quality men's varsity jacket, then you can check these brands because they can really cater 'to'style and craftsmanship':

Nike: This state is famous for their fusion of sportswear and street wear. Therefore, they offer different styles of varsity jackets that suit the contemporary user.

Champion: Athletic companies now have great varsity jackets, which both speak of long tradition and modernity.

Levi's: Though this company is popularly known for producing denim, Levi's has also designed great varsity jackets in a rugged, all-American flavour.

Polo Ralph Lauren: To add a touch of the high life, try the well-known varsity jackets from Polo Ralph Lauren that scream sophistication and never-go-out-of-style appeal.

ASOS: In case you lack money, ASOS is the best option among the various brands because it is a popular name, yet it sells so many fashionable varsity jackets with prices that students can afford.

Maintenance Guidelines for Your Varsity Jacket

In order to keep your mens varsity jacket looking clear and glamorous, you should be advised on the following care tips:

Cleaning: Before cleaning, always refer to the care label before attempting to clean your varsity jacket. Generally, for wool and leather jackets to clean, use a damp cloth and mild detergent to spot-clean stains.

Storage: Place your jacket in a cool and dry place. Avoid hanging it in direct sunlight, as this may lead to the fading of colours over time.

Maintenance: Condition leather sleeves regularly to avoid cracking and to ensure that they remain soft. Remove pilling from wool bodies with a fabric shaver.

Final Thoughts

A varsity jacket for men is much more than just a piece of wear—it is identity, tradition, and statement, all rolled into one. While it is something brought about by athleticism, in modern living, it stands tall for any man to have in his wardrobe.

With unlimited styling possibilities, high-quality materials, and a great history, the varsity jacket still stands tall as one of the most important staples in fashion. So don't wait: invest in a men's varsity jacket now and enjoy the stylish, comfortable, and functional mix your varsity jacket affords. If you want to hit the streets or just want to hang out for a casual gathering, the varsity jacket will always have your back both literally and figuratively.

[your-not-so-southern-blig]

Southern Convention #3

Hat etiquette

Hats here in the south is a staple of our clothing choice and they are a handy tool that is used in those hot summer days. Here's how you handle hats on a daily basis:

Caps: Baseballs caps or your go to hat is usually a hat that you got for free at a booth or convention. This is work outside during hot days to work or to a casual get together. This will usually be busting at the seams before you replace it with an equally inexpensive hat.

Cowboy hats: Cowboy hats are both formal and informal head wear. They can be used to work in the field with or worn to weddings or proms. There are different types, winter and summer. Your winter hats are a heavier leather that will keep the head warm, the summer hats are going to be a light material like a light plastic that will shade your eyes and keep the head cool. You've heard the rule never take a cowboy's hat unless you plan on going home with him, and the second never lay your hat brim down (you'll pour all the luck out of it).

Easter hats: If you go further south you'll find people wearing hats to church every Sunday but that is not the case where I live. The only occasion for wearing hats at church is Easter or Homecoming. When choosing this hat pick something subtle, not too many feathers or things adorning it.

General rules of hats when it comes time for dinner, men take off their hats regardless of the kind and women are generally asked to unless it is an Easter hat then they are permitted to keep it on during supper.

[dimeurz]

for the lyric thing on twitter

“"Do not enter" is written on the doorway

Why can't everyone just go away?

Except you, you can stay”

hiiiiiiiiiiiii (with rizz)

Head low, worn-out thrifted baseball cap tipped down, long sleeves and gloves to hide the titanium attached on his left side despite any weather.

Bucky tries so hard to stay incognito, and though Bucharest is a long way from Washington, he knows that his profile is plastered all over the internet ever since the HYDRA files were leaked by Romanoff.

He doesn’t mind it, really. Good for her, good for the so-called Avengers. But, every so often, he gets the stares from people thinking they might’ve recognized him from the news.

The Winter Soldier is no longer a ghost story, after all.

More like a nightmare.

Bucky tucks the bag of groceries into his chest as he takes the stairs up to his apartment. A tenant who he isn’t familiar with passes by and stops, making him walk faster to avoid any confrontation.

“Hey!” The old man yells two flights below, “Where have I seen you before?”

Bucky pauses and turns his face away. They talk to you in their language, you answer in their language. That way, you can pretend to be a local much easier. “I’ve been living here for eight months now.”

The old man reconsiders, then opens the door to his apartment. Bucky exhales deeply and continues to jog up the stairs, hoping to get there without anyone else bothering him.

See, this morning, the landlord was already up in his ass about his apartment’s conditions. She didn’t like the newspapers taped on the windows, but Bucky reasoned out that he didn’t have enough money to get some good curtains or blinds for privacy. He couldn’t possibly tell her that he didn’t like the lingering feeling of somebody looking at him through a scope, taking him out in his sleep because he broke HYDRA protocols.

Arriving at his door, Bucky notices the damage on tape he put at the bottom. He stares at it and clenches both his jaws and fists. Someone broke in. He doesn’t have anything with him to make-shift as a weapon, unless he throws this dollar store chocolate bar as strong as he can. He thinks about the arm, but he decides against it. He hasn’t used it as a weapon in a while, not even towards the men who attempted to mug him while walking home from his part-time construction site job.

He was begging for a peaceful day. But then again, when did God ever take mercy on him?

With a quiet attempt, Bucky twists the door knob and enters his apartment. He’s fully prepared for an ambush but there’s a man cooking in the kitchen, humming a familiar tune he must’ve heard from the radio once. He’s wearing a costume — no, must be a uniform — and some sort of a jetpack on his back. Bucky feels like he recognizes him, but he doesn’t know how and where.

The man turns around, jumping at the sight of Bucky that he almost burned himself on the stove. “Jesus fuck! You scared me!”

“How did you find me?” Bucky asks with a frown, not moving an inch from where he’s standing. He remembers. He is the Falcon. He’s Steve’s friend. “Are you going to kill me?”

The Falcon’s shoulders droop at the question. “No. No, I’m not here to kill you. I’m just... cooking some pancakes. See?” He turns around to flip the pancake. There’s a whole stack ready on the kitchen island already. Bucky didn’t have the ingredients for this, so Falcon must’ve brought them in.

“Why?” Bucky asks once more. There’s no reason for somebody to be nice to him, especially if they’ve fought before. Especially after ripping his wings off. Did he get new wings? Is he allowed to ask? It’s not like they’re friends.

The Falcon turns the stove off and settles the last pancake on the plate. He brings it over to the dining table, swiping the journal and the banded newspapers to the side. “I’m tasked to bring you over. Steve, your friend, he’s been looking for you.”

“I’m not coming with you.” Bucky says firmly.

“I know.” The Falcon says. He picks apart a pancake piece and tosses it in his mouth. “I won’t force you. I’m not gonna get myself into a pointless fight with a super soldier. That’s why I’m proposing a deal.”

Bucky stares at the Avenger. This man barged into his apartment and cooked for himself. He doesn’t know what to feel. He’s not scared, not because the Avenger isn’t powerful enough to take him down. He looks well-equipped, way better than when they first fought. The Falcon just has this aura... Bucky feels lighthearted around him.

The Falcon continues after getting no response from Bucky. “Stop running away. Just stay here and I’ll visit you from time to time. Don’t worry, it won’t be too often. At least bi-weekly. And then when you’re ready, I’ll take you with me, back to Steve.”

“Sorry about your wings.” Bucky says randomly, finding his posture more relaxed now. When did he relax? “I’d give you a new one if I could.”

The Falcon chuckles — wow, his smile is really pretty — and shakes his head. “All good, man. I got new ones. And don’t worry, I won’t carry you all the back to America. We have a Quinjet.” He stands up and walks up to Bucky, holding a hand out. “So, do we have a deal, Barnes?”

Bucky stares at Falcon’s gloved hand and gulps. He shifts his groceries to his left arm and shakes the hero’s hand with his real hand.

“Great. Now eat up, the pancakes are yours. I’ll see you in a few weeks.” The Falcon grins and opens the door to the balcony, activating his famous carbon wings.

“Wait.” Bucky calls out, placing his groceries down on the table. He gathers his thoughts for a second. “What’s your name?”

The Falcon beams. “It’s Sam. Sam Wilson.” He then nods his head at Bucky one last time and soars to the sky.

Bucky watches Sam until he’s too small to see.

Somehow, Bucky wishes that Sam had stayed longer, and he hasn’t felt that about someone for a while now.

send me a lyric prompt and i’ll write a sambucky fic!

[funkycapsuk]

Bring out your inner TRUCK DRIVER with a mesh style trucker cap! Our collection of Trucker Caps includes some top brands like Goorin Bros! Just check out the Stetson Dirt Track Racing Trucker Cap Men’s – Made of Cotton – One Size (55-60 cm) – Adjustable mesh Cap – Snapback with airy mesh Panel – Two-Tone Baseball Cap – Summer/Winter. Why don't you take a pit stop a the Funky Caps online store today? https://www.funkycaps.co.uk/product/stetson-jbs-bear-trucker-cap-men-mesh-baseball-snapback-snapback-with-peak-summer-winter/?feed_id=15458&_unique_id=678666efcb82d #goorinbros #truckercap #truckercaps #caps #cap #funhat #funkycaps #speakwithyourcap #hataddict #cap #caps #baseballcap #baseballcaps #styleformen #styleforguys https://www.funkycaps.co.uk/caps-hats/style/trucker-caps/

[thefreshdirect]

Premium Men’s Tracksuit: Comfort Meets Style

The Premium Men’s Tracksuit is the ultimate wardrobe essential for men seeking a perfect combination of functionality, comfort, and style. Whether you’re working out, lounging, or heading out for casual errands, this tracksuit ensures you always look and feel your best.

Features of the Premium Men’s Tracksuit

Superior Fabric Made with a high-quality cotton-polyester blend, the tracksuit offers softness, breathability, and durability for all-day comfort.

Sleek Design A modern, minimalist design that seamlessly transitions from the gym to casual outings, offering versatility and timeless appeal.

Tailored Fit Engineered for an athletic silhouette, the tracksuit combines style with practicality, ensuring a flattering look for all body types.

Functional Elements

Jacket: Full-zip closure with side pockets for secure storage.

Pants: Adjustable drawstring waistband and zippered pockets for convenience.

Ribbed Cuffs and Hems: Enhances fit and provides extra warmth.

All-Season Wearability Lightweight yet cozy, it’s perfect for both warm days and layering during cooler weather.

Why Choose the Premium Men’s Tracksuit?

Comfort Redefined: The soft fabric ensures a relaxed feel for long hours of wear.

Durable Design: Built to withstand regular use while maintaining its shape and color.

Effortless Style: Its modern aesthetic complements any casual or active look.

Versatile Usage: Suitable for workouts, lounging, traveling, or casual outings.

Style Inspiration for the Premium Men’s Tracksuit

Sporty Casual Pair with white sneakers and a baseball cap for an athletic, laid-back vibe.

Relaxed Look Combine with slip-on shoes for a cozy yet stylish outfit perfect for home or quick errands.

Layered for Cold Weather Add a bomber jacket or hoodie for extra warmth and flair in winter.

Travel Essential Wear with lightweight trainers and a backpack for a comfortable and fashionable travel outfit.

Perfect for Every Occasion

Gym & Sports: Flexible and breathable for physical activities.

At-Home Comfort: Ideal for relaxing or working from home.

Casual Outings: Stylish enough for shopping, coffee runs, or casual meetups.

Travel Ready: Lightweight and easy to pack for on-the-go convenience.

Upgrade Your Wardrobe Today

The Premium Men’s Tracksuit is more than just clothing—it’s a lifestyle statement. Designed for men who value comfort, practicality, and effortless style, this tracksuit is a must-have.

Shop now to redefine your everyday look with unmatched quality and design!

[bukopedia]

Men's Fashion Accessories Shopping: Elevate Your Style with the Right Add-Ons

In the world of men’s fashion accessories are the finishing touch that can transform a good outfit into a great one. From sleek watches to statement belts, the right accessories not only enhance your style but also showcase your personality. Whether you’re shopping for a formal occasion, a casual outing, or just everyday wear, understanding the key accessories and how to style them is essential.

In this blog, we’ll explore the must-have men’s fashion accessories, where to shop, and tips to elevate your wardrobe effortlessly.

Why Accessories Matter in Men’s Fashion

Accessories are more than just practical items—they are a reflection of your taste and attention to detail. Here’s why they matter:

Complete the Look: Accessories tie an outfit together, adding finesse and character.

Showcase Your Style: From bold and trendy to minimal and classic, accessories let you express your individuality.

Functionality Meets Fashion: Items like bags, sunglasses, and watches combine utility with style.

The right accessories can give you confidence, whether you’re dressing for work, a date, or a special occasion.

Top Must-Have Men’s Fashion Accessories

Watches

A timeless watch is a cornerstone of men’s fashion. From classic leather strap watches to modern smartwatches, there’s a timepiece for every occasion:

Formal Events: Opt for sleek leather or metal strap watches in silver or gold tones.

Casual Wear: Go for sporty chronographs or minimalist designs.

Tech Lovers: Smartwatches combine style and functionality, keeping you connected.

Belts

Belts are both functional and stylish. A good belt complements your outfit and adds structure:

Formal Attire: Stick to leather belts in black, brown, or tan for a sophisticated look.

Casual Outfits: Explore woven or fabric belts in bold colours and patterns for a relaxed vibe.

Sunglasses

Protect your eyes while staying stylish with the right pair of sunglasses:

Classic Aviators: Timeless and perfect for both formal and casual looks.

Wayfarers: A versatile choice for modern outfits.

Round Frames: Trendy and perfect for a retro, fashion-forward style.

Choose frames that suit your face shape to make the most impact.

Bags

A stylish bag not only carries your essentials but also enhances your look:

Leather Briefcases: Perfect for professionals and formal occasions.

Backpacks: Modern, minimalist designs are ideal for casual and work settings.

Crossbody Bags: A practical and trendy option for everyday wear.

Ties and Pocket Squares

When dressing for formal events, ties and pocket squares are essential accessories that show your attention to detail:

Ties: Experiment with silk ties, knitted ties, or bow ties to match your suit.

Pocket Squares: Add a splash of colour or a subtle contrast to elevate your blazer or suit jacket.

Jewellery

Men’s jewellery has evolved beyond watches and wedding bands. Modern accessories include:

Bracelets: Leather, metal, or beaded bracelets add an understated touch.

Rings: Minimalist bands or signet rings can make a bold statement.

Necklaces: Simple chains or pendants complement casual looks.

Hats and Caps

Headwear is perfect for adding style and personality:

Beanies: Great for winter months and street-style looks.

Caps: Baseball caps add a relaxed, sporty vibe.

Fedoras or Flat Caps: Elevate formal and smart casual outfits with a vintage flair.

Shoes and Socks

Shoes are the foundation of any outfit, and the right socks complete the look:

Classic Brogues or Oxfords: Ideal for formal attire.

Loafers or Sneakers: A versatile choice for casual wear.

Patterned Socks: Add personality with fun colours and subtle prints.

Where to Shop for Men’s Fashion Accessories

Online Retailers: Websites like ASOS, Mr Porter, and Amazon offer a vast selection of men’s accessories with the convenience of home delivery.

High-Street Stores: Brands like Zara, H&M, and Topman offer affordable and trendy pieces.

Luxury Brands: If you’re looking to invest, brands like Gucci, Burberry, and Hugo Boss offer timeless and premium accessories.

Specialist Boutiques: Explore local boutiques or men’s accessory stores for unique and handcrafted pieces.

Department Stores: Stores like Selfridges, John Lewis, and Debenhams have curated collections for all budgets and styles.

Tips for Accessorizing Like a Pro

Keep It Balanced: Avoid overloading your outfit—less is often more when it comes to accessories.

Match Your Metals: Coordinate metals (like silver or gold) in your watches, rings, and belt buckles for a cohesive look.

Invest in Quality: High-quality accessories last longer and elevate your overall style.

Complement Your Outfit: Ensure your accessories enhance rather than overpower your clothing.

Experiment with Trends: Don’t be afraid to try new trends, like layered necklaces or bold socks, while staying true to your personal style.

Final Thoughts

Men’s fashion accessories are the ultimate tools to express individuality and elevate your wardrobe. From timeless pieces like watches and belts to trendy hats and jewellery, the right accessories can completely redefine your style. So, whether you’re shopping online or browsing through stores, invest in quality, experiment with trends, and most importantly—wear what makes you feel confident.

[swimmingcleaner]

Anime Sweat shirt – Stylish and Comfortable

Sweatshirts have become the sensation in the fashion world as they combine bold and captivating designs of Japanese anime with casual wear's cozy appeal. These sweatshirts are a must-have for anime enthusiasts and those who want trendy and unique clothing. Whether you're a fan of classic characters or modern series, anime sweatshirts allow you to express your personality while staying comfortable. Let’s dive into why these sweatshirts are the must-have item in your wardrobe.

Unisex Appeal: The Perfect Choice for Everyone

Anime sweatshirts are fit for both men and women, versatile and also include all. These sweatshirts vary from oversized to a comfortable fit to sleek, well-tailored designs, suiting different body types and style preferences.

For Men: If you're looking for style and coziness in your sweatshirt, anime sweatshirts are functional yet fashionable. Wear it with jeans or joggers for a relaxed, yet fashionable look. For Women: These casuals can easily be enhanced by all the women with leggings, skirts, and even layered up with a chic women varsity jacket.

The designs are universal so they suit people of all genders and age groups.

Aesthetic Revolution: Aw Aesthetic Wear

Anime sweatshirts are staples in an aesthetic wear-where bold graphics, pastel colors, and nostalgic vibes come into play. It's often teamed with magnificent illustrations of famous anime characters, quotes from the heart, or the least, minimalist character sketches. These seamlessly cut between the culture of anime and streetwear in the modern world, making it stand out in an outfit.

Some popular design elements include:

Oversized prints of fan-favorite characters. Subtle nods to anime themes through minimalistic patterns. Bright colors and poetic detail that just pop. You can pair an anime sweatshirt with a women varsity jacket or over a turtleneck sweater for the fashionable edge with a strong sense of its aesthetic.

Comfort Meets Functionality

Anime sweatshirts do not only provide you with comfort but are also quite stylish. These are preferably made of good quality materials such as cotton blend or fleece. They are perfect for every season. The soft and breezy sweatshirt keeps you relaxed on chilly mornings, and the breathable design ensures you remain comfortable all through the day.

The varied appeals are shown in using it for different occasions:

For informal outings with friends Relaxing at home while binge-watching your favorite anime. Layering for winter warmth or wearing as a light top in milder weather. How to Style Your Anime Sweat shirt Want to style your anime sweat shirt? Here's a quick reference guide below: Casual Streetwear Try the way cool look with your sweat shirt and ripped jeans, along with your sneaker and a casual baseball cap. This looks really good for both men's and women's sweatshirts. Layered Look: Drape a women varsity jacket or a denim jacket over your sweatshirt. This is a layered look that's both fashionable and practical. Athleisure Vibes: Couple your sweatshirt with joggers or athletic shorts for a sporty yet stylish look. Accessories Matter: Put more flair to your outfit with anime-themed accessories such as tote bags, pins, or hats.

Why Anime Sweatshirts?

Anime sweatshirts are something to be recognized for:

Expression of Passion: Show your love for anime in a subtle yet stylish way. Unisex Designs: They cater to one and all, from mens sweatshirts to women's wardrobe essentials. Durability: Quality makes the difference wherein high quality ensures longer wear after multiple washes. Trendsetting Appeal: As a staple for aw aesthetic wear, keep you ahead of fashion game.

Final Thoughts

Anime sweatshirts are indeed a comfortable, stylish, and contented package. If you want to add it to your collection of casual wear or pair it with a women's varsity jacket to give a touch of elevation, there is really no way to go wrong with any of these sweatshirts.

[bestcampinggear]

Best Selling WINTER BASEBALL CAP FOR MEN - 54+ BEST CAP on Amazon https://www.amazon.com/shop/dear_cute_fur/list/2Z5PEBDMFOYQT

[fashionbrands30]

What is Gallery Dept?

What is Gallery Dept?

Gallery Dept was founded by artist Josué Thomas, blending fashion, art, and culture into one innovative brand. Inspired by vintage pieces and hand-done customization, Gallery Dept breathes new life into traditional streetwear by turning everyday apparel into wearable art. Whether it’s a hoodie or a pair of jeans, each item is unique, reflecting a one-of-a-kind design that feels personal and exclusive.

2. Gallery Dept Hoodies: Iconic Style Meets Comfort

The Gallery Dept hoodie is perhaps one of the most recognizable pieces from the brand. Combining comfort with an effortlessly cool design, these hoodies are often distressed, hand-painted, or embellished with unique graphics. When you throw on a Gallery Dept hoodie, it’s not just about staying warm — it’s about making a statement.

Autumn and Winter New GALLERY DEPT Lanvin Hoodie

The oversized fit, paired with high-quality cotton, ensures that Gallery Dept hoodies are both comfortable and durable. Whether you’re lounging at home or stepping out for the night, this piece blends seamlessly into any occasion. Think of it as your go-to piece when you want to be stylish without trying too hard.

3. Gallery Dept Shirts: A Unique Spin on Casual Wear

Gallery Dept doesn’t stop at hoodies; their shirts are equally as eye-catching. From graphic tees to button-downs, these shirts are designed for individuals who want to stand out. Each piece feels like a work of art, often featuring hand-drawn designs, bold text, or vintage-inspired details.

When you wear a Gallery Dept shirt, you’re not just wearing a piece of clothing; you’re showcasing a conversation starter. Perfect for pairing with jeans or layering under a jacket, these shirts allow for versatile styling, making them a must-have for anyone who loves streetwear.

New GALLERY DEPT T-Shirts For Men And Women

4. Gallery Dept Jackets: Streetwear with an Edge

When it comes to outerwear, Gallery Dept jackets are as bold as they come. Their jackets combine streetwear aesthetics with a high-fashion twist. Often featuring hand-painted designs, unique distressing, or unexpected fabric combinations, these jackets are not for the faint of heart.

GALLERY DEPT X LANVIN DENIM JACKET

One of the standout pieces in their outerwear collection is the denim jacket, which is reimagined with the brand’s signature artistic flair. Wearing a Gallery Dept jacket feels like you’re wrapping yourself in a work of art that’s both functional and fashionable.

5. Gallery Dept Hats: The Finishing Touch

No outfit is complete without a hat, and Gallery Dept hats are the perfect finishing touch. These hats, which come in various styles like baseball caps and beanies, carry the same art-infused design ethos that the brand is known for.

RODMAN DENIM QUILTED BUCKET GALLERY DEPT HAT

Gallery Dept hats often feature distressed elements or bold graphics, turning a simple accessory into a statement piece. Whether you’re going for a casual look or adding a bit of edge to your outfit, a Gallery Dept hat is the cherry on top.

6. Gallery Dept Sweatpants: Comfort in Every Stitch

While streetwear often emphasizes style, Gallery Dept sweatpants remind us that comfort is just as important. These sweatpants are designed with high-quality materials, offering an effortless blend of coziness and style. Whether you’re running errands or relaxing at home, the fit and feel of Gallery Dept sweatpants make them an essential part of any wardrobe.

Gallery DEPT Fashionable Sweatpants

Much like their hoodies, Gallery Dept sweatpants often feature unique detailing, like hand-painted graphics or subtle distressing, elevating them from basic loungewear to something more special.

7. Gallery Dept Jeans: Distinctive Denim

Gallery Dept is known for its distinctive denim, and their jeans are no exception. Unlike traditional jeans, Gallery Dept jeans are often distressed, hand-painted, or reworked in a way that feels entirely fresh. If you’re looking for denim that feels unique and tells a story, this is it.

Gallery Dept jeans are designed for individuals who are not afraid to stand out. Pair them with a simple t-shirt or a bold jacket, and you’ve got an outfit that turns heads without trying too hard.

NEW CAMO GALLERY DEPT HIPSTER STREET SLACK JEANS

8. What Sets Gallery Dept Apart from Other Brands?

With so many streetwear brands on the market, you might wonder: what makes Gallery Dept stand out? The answer lies in the brand’s dedication to craftsmanship, creativity, and individuality. Each piece feels like a one-of-a-kind item, not something mass-produced for the sake of trendiness.

Gallery Dept brings art to the forefront of fashion, making each piece feel special. This commitment to originality is what keeps fans coming back for more.

9. Styling Your Gallery Dept Apparel

One of the best things about Gallery Dept clothing is its versatility. Whether you’re going for a laid-back streetwear look or something more polished, these pieces can be styled in countless ways.

For a casual day out, pair a Gallery Dept hoodie with their sweatpants and a hat for a comfortable yet stylish look. Want to dress it up? Swap the sweatpants for their distinctive jeans and layer with a bold jacket. The possibilities are endless.

10. Gallery Dept Collaborations: Art Meets Fashion

Gallery Dept is known for its creative collaborations, often teaming up with other artists or brands to produce limited-edition collections. These collaborations allow the brand to push the boundaries of fashion even further, creating pieces that feel like wearable art.

When you get your hands on a collaboration piece, you’re not just buying clothing; you’re buying a piece of fashion history.

11. Sustainability and Craftsmanship in Gallery Dept

Gallery Dept’s focus on upcycling and repurposing materials is what sets them apart in the sustainability conversation. Many of their items are reworked or repurposed vintage pieces, which helps reduce waste and gives new life to forgotten clothing.

This dedication to sustainability is not just a trend for the brand — it’s part of their core values. The craftsmanship involved in every Gallery Dept piece is evident, from the hand-painted details to the unique distressing.

12. How to Care for Your Gallery Dept Clothing

Caring for your Gallery Dept clothing is key to maintaining its quality and longevity. Given that many items are distressed or hand-painted, you’ll want to wash them with care. Stick to cold water and avoid harsh detergents. Air drying is best to prevent any shrinkage or further wear.

Gallery Dept Logo Sweat Shorts

By taking care of your Gallery Dept items, you’ll be able to enjoy their unique designs for years to come.

13. Is Gallery Dept Worth the Hype?

With all the buzz surrounding the brand, many people wonder if Gallery Dept is worth the investment. The short answer? Yes. Each piece feels unique, like you’re wearing something truly one-of-a-kind. The attention to detail, craftsmanship, and artful design make every Gallery Dept item feel special.

14. Where to Buy Gallery Dept Clothing

You can purchase Gallery Dept clothing through their official website or through select retailers. Given the exclusivity of many of their pieces, they often sell out quickly, so it’s worth staying on top of new releases.

15. Conclusion: A Brand with a Story to Tell

In a world where fashion often feels disposable, Gallery Dept stands out by offering clothing that feels meaningful and lasting. Whether you’re drawn to their hoodies, jeans, or hats, each piece carries a story, crafted with care and designed to inspire. Gallery Dept is more than a brand — it’s an expression of individuality, art, and street culture.