#i think you should embrace the southerner

[goldensunset]

*ie the post about using "pet names" in posts I am So Sorry if I ever do that at any point and make you uncomfortable. My natural Southernism has somehow resulted in me using "Sweetie" to refer to people almost as much as their actual names. I try to catch it online but it's soooo embarrassing irl when I'm having a conversation with a friend or classmate and I just drop a pet name out of nowhere asdfgh

really? i have never heard you say that… actually maybe i have? but like only as a sarcastic insult idk. also you are one of my besties you are equally exempt i just wouldn’t be used to it from you so it would be a shock to my system but like i’d know you meant well. i’m talking about like random strangers who are significantly older than me and want to talk down to me like i’m 12 but i know who you are so

[ryuyukawa]

─Cold Espresso

∘₊✧─── ❀ ───✧₊∘

★ Pairing: Fiddleford McGucket x Reader

✦ Genre: Fluff? Friends to Not-Yet-Lovers???

★ Warning: None

✦ Summary: You and your old buddy from college decided to meet up at the usual coffee shop you two used to visit. Though I don't think neither the two of you planned for something to go in another way you didn't expect..

Note: I feel like he doesn't get much lovee and I think hes adorable. Im not sure what the title should be so..

The café is just as you remember it. The brick exterior hasn’t aged a day, and the sign that reads "Becky's Brews" still hangs slightly crooked above the door. You stand outside for a moment, taking in the familiar scene, and a wave of nostalgia washes over you. It’s been years since you last set foot here, and longer still since you shared this space with McGucket. The memories come rushing back, a collage of late-night study sessions and laughter echoing through these very walls.

Pushing the door open, you’re greeted by the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee. The inside hasn’t changed much either—the same warm lighting, the mismatched furniture that somehow feels cohesive, and the old jukebox in the corner that’s always playing a tune just loud enough to be heard, but not so loud as to intrude on conversations.

You scan the room, and there he is—Fiddleford McGucket, sitting at your usual table by the window, just like old times. He looks up as you approach, and a grin spreads across his face as he waved you over.

"Well, if it ain’t the ol’ bookworm ‘emself!" he exclaims, standing up to give you a hug. His accent, thick and unmistakably Southern, wraps around you like a warm blanket. You’ve always loved the way he talks, the way his words roll off his tongue with a drawl that’s both comforting and endearing.

"Hey, Fidds," you reply, smiling as you embrace him. His arms are tight 'round you, and for a moment, you’re transported back to those carefree college days when everything seemed simpler, when your biggest worry was acing the next exam or deciding where to grab lunch.

"You ain’t changed a bit," he says adjusting his glasses as you both sit down. "Still got that same ol’ smile, too. How’s life been treatin’ ya?"

You chuckle, feeling a bit shy under his gaze. "Life’s been... different. Busy, mostly. How about you?"

Fidds leans back in his chair, he fixed his glasses as his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Busy’s one way to put it. Ain’t nothin’ too excitin’, but I’ve been gettin’ by. Missed this place, though. Missed hangin’ out with you."

His words catch you off guard, and you feel a warmth spread through your chest. You’ve missed him too, more than you realized.

"I missed you too, Fidds. It’s been way too long."

He nods, a serious expression crossing his face. "Yeah, it has. Too damn long. But we’re here now, ain’t we? Let’s make the most of it."

For the next hour, the two of you fall into an easy rhythm, slipping back into the kind of banter that only old friends share. You talk about everything—your jobs, your families, the places you’ve been, the things you’ve seen. Fidds tells you about what he'd been working on; how he spends his days in his garage, creating techs; how well hes actually getting by, getting a job offering at some place. You tell him about your career, the ups and downs, and how you’ve been searching for something more, though you’re not quite sure what that "more" is.

As the conversation flows, you find yourself noticing things about Fiddleford that you hadn’t paid much attention to before. The way his eyes light up when he talks about something he’s passionate about, the way his hands move when he gestures, the sound of his laughter—it’s all so familiar, yet somehow different. There’s a spark between you, something unspoken but palpable, and it catches you off guard.

"So," Fidds drawls, leaning forward with a playful grin, "anyone special in your life these days? Or are ya still too busy chasin’ that dream of yours?"

The question hangs in the air for a moment, and you feel your heart skip a beat.

"No, no one special," you reply, trying to sound casual. "I’ve been too focused on work, I guess."

Fidds raises an eyebrow. "Really now? Ain’t nothin’ wrong with bein’ ambitious, but a pretty thing like you, I reckon you could have anyone you wanted if ya tried."

You laugh, though your cheeks flush slightly at the compliment. "I could say the same about you, Fidds. What about you? Anyone special?"

He shrugs, a lazy smile tugging at his lips. "Nah, no one right now. Haven’t found the right person, I suppose. But who knows, maybe I just ain’t been lookin’ in the right places."

His words linger in the air, and for the first time, you feel a shift in the atmosphere. The easygoing conversation between old friends suddenly feels charged with something more, something you hadn’t anticipated. You can’t quite put your finger on it, but there’s a tension now, a pull that you can’t ignore.

The afternoon sun filters through the window, casting a warm glow over the table. Fidds’s gaze locks onto yours, and for a moment, neither of you speaks. There’s a question in his eyes, something he’s holding back, and you can feel the weight of it pressing against the silence.

Finally, he breaks the moment with a soft chuckle, shaking his head as if to clear his thoughts. "Well, look at us, gettin’ all serious. We’re supposed to be catchin’ up, not diggin’ into each other’s love lives."

You smile, though your mind is still racing. "Yeah, you’re right. Let’s not get too deep, huh?"

But even as you say it, you know that something has changed between you and Fidds. The old friendship is still there, but there’s something new too—something that makes your heart beat a little faster, something that leaves you wondering what might happen if you both stopped holding back.

────

The afternoon drifts into evening as the conversation between you and Fidds meanders through old memories and new musings. The light outside has dimmed, and the soft, warm glow of the café's hanging lights creates a cozy atmosphere that wraps around the two of you like a blanket. As you talk, the world outside seems to fade away, leaving just the two of you in this little bubble of familiarity and something... more.

Fiddleford leans back in his chair, tipping it slightly as he balances on the two back legs, a mischievous grin on his face. "Remember that time we tried sneakin’ into the library after hours? You were so dead set on gettin’ that book for your paper, and I was just along for the ride."

You laugh, shaking your head at the memory. "How could I forget? We almost got caught by campus security. I thought we were going to get expelled or something."

"Aw, shucks," Fiddleford drawls, his grin widening, "they wouldn’t’ve expelled ya. You were their star student. Now me, on the other hand… they probably wouldn’t’ve batted an eye if I’d just disappeared."

"Don’t say that," you chide, though you know he’s joking. "You were always smarter than you gave yourself credit for."

His expression softens, and he gives you a look that’s half-teasing, half-serious. "Yeah, well, it’s easier to believe that when you got someone like you around. You always made me feel like I could do more, be more."

You don’t know how to respond to that. There’s an intensity in his eyes that’s different from the playful banter you’re used to. It’s as if he’s seeing you in a way he never has before, and you can’t help but wonder if you’re seeing him differently too.

The conversation lulls, and the silence between you is thick with unspoken words. Fidds takes a deep breath, his chair coming back down to all four legs as he leans forward, his elbows resting on the table. He’s closer now, close enough that you can see your own reflection in his eyes.

"Can I tell ya somethin’?" he asks, his voice low, almost hesitant.

You nod, your heart starting to race again. "Yeah.. Sure? What is it?"

Fidds looks down at his hands, fidgeting with the edge of the napkin in front of him. When he looks back up, there’s a vulnerability in his gaze that you’ve never seen before. "I’ve been thinkin’ about this for a while now... and, well, maybe it’s just the nostalgia talkin’, but… I think I missed more than just our friendship."

The words hang in the air between you, and your breath catches in your throat. You don’t know what to say, but the way he’s looking at you makes it clear that he’s waiting for some kind of response.

Before you can find the words, the door to the café opens with a jingle, breaking the moment. A group of people walk in, laughing and chatting as they find a table near the counter. The noise disrupts the moment, and you see Fidds pull back slightly, the intensity in his eyes dimming as if he’s suddenly unsure of himself.

You’re unsure too. There’s a part of you that wants to reach across the table, to take his hand and tell him that you feel the same way, that maybe there’s something more between you than just friendship. But there’s also a part of you that’s scared—scared of what this could mean, of what might happen if you cross that line.

Fidds clears his throat, forcing a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. "Maybe I’m just talkin’ nonsense. We’ve had a lot of good times, haven’t we? I’m just glad we’re still in each other’s lives."

You can see the effort he’s putting into pulling back, into pretending that the moment didn’t happen. But it did, and now the air between you feels different, charged with the possibilities of what could be.

Before you can decide what to do next, Fidds stands up, stretching his arms above his head as he brushed his fingers in his hair. "Whew, it’s gettin’ late. How ‘bout we head out? Walk ya to your car?"

You blink, surprised by how quickly the conversation has turned, but you find yourself nodding. "Yeah─ Yeah, sure. That sounds good."

The two of you gather your things and head for the door. The evening air is cool against your skin as you step outside, and you walk in silence for a few moments, your mind racing with everything that’s been left unsaid.

When you reach your car, Fidds turns to you, his hands shoved into his pockets. He looks at you for a long moment, as if he’s trying to decide whether to say something or let it go.

Finally, he speaks, his voice soft. "I meant what I said back there. I’ve missed more than just our friendship. But... I ain’t gonna push ya into somethin’ you’re not ready for. Just... uh.. think about it, okay?"

You nod, your heart pounding in your chest. "I will.. I promise."

He smiles, a small, almost sad smile, and then he steps back, giving you a little wave. "Night, then. We’ll talk soon?"

"Yeah," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. "We’ll talk soon."

As you watch him walk away, a thousand thoughts swirl in your mind. The possibility of something more between you and Fiddleford is real, and it terrifies you as much as it excites you. You know that whatever happens next, things between you will never be the same.

You get into your car, your hands trembling slightly as you grip the steering wheel. For a long moment, you just sit there, staring out the windshield at the fading figure of Fidds as he walks down the street. And then, just as he’s about to turn the corner and disappear from view, you make a decision. You open the car door and step out, your heart racing as you call out his name.

He stops, turning around to look at you, his expression unreadable.

"Fidds," you say, your voice trembling with emotion, "I—"

But before you can finish, the sound of your phone ringing cuts through the night, startling you both. You glance down at the screen, recognizing the name of your boss flashing across it.

You hesitate, torn between answering the call and the words you were about to say. Fidds watches you, waiting, the moment hanging in the balance.

And just like that, the decision is taken out of your hands. You silence the phone, looking back at Fidds, but the spell is broken.

"I... I’ll call you," you manage to say, knowing that the conversation will have to wait.

Fidds nods, a flicker of something like hope in his eyes. "Yeah... sure thing. Take care, okay?"

You watch as he turns and walks away, the opportunity slipping through your fingers. And as you stand there, alone in the quiet of the night, you can’t shake the feeling that you’ve just might've let something important slip away.

Sooo.. How was it?? Good? bad? Feel like I didn't do him much justice (.∘ˊ◠ˋ∘.)

If this get enough notes I'll maybe continue it?? Oh, I also changed the layout a bit, if you did notice :D

Thoughts and criticisms are welcomed, as it would help me improve on my writing!

[lotusbxtch]

SoCal to NorCal - Chapter 1: Malibu

Series Masterlist Series Pairing: husband!Joel Miller x f!Reader x boyfriend!Frankie Morales Series Summary: Joel is your rock, and Frankie is your ocean. So what happens when you bring the three of you together?

- or -

you and Frankie roadtrip up from Southern California to Northern California so he can meet Joel. A polyamory fic. This series exists in the Triple Frontier universe and is a Joel Miller AU/Triple Frontier AU. Series Rating: Explicit, 18+ only, MDNI

Chapter 1: Malibu

Chapter Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!Reader x Santiago Garcia

Chapter Summary: You & Frankie visit your friend Santi at his Malibu mansion to kick off your roadtrip north, and you let desires guide the night.

Word Count: 6.9k

Rating: Explicit, 18+ only, MDNI

Chapter Warnings/Tags: polyamory, threesome, multiple partners, MMF dynamics, fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected P in V (wrap it up pls!), DVP, multiple orgasms, multiple creampies, cum kink, spitting, alcohol consumption, mentions of food, gratuitous descriptions of male and female anatomy, heavy use of Spanish pet names/nicknames, Santi being a menace is his own warning, Frankie the PEK, Frankie has a big dick and so does Santi, Reader uses she/her pronouns, Reader is able-bodied, has breasts, and has hair that can be pulled, otherwise no description of Reader's skin color, size, body shape, hair color, eye color, or ethnicity, no use of y/n. Everyone is testing negative for STDs and Reader is on birth control. a/n: This is my very first series fic! I plan to have 3 chapters including this one. This one was meant to be a fun spicy little intro into the fic, but of course Santi being an absolute menace meant that this is absolute smutty filth and I'm sorry (not sorry). MASSIVE thank you to my sweet @for-a-longlongtime, who not only gave me the iconic Santiago line "guava goes better with pussy and mezcal," but beta read for me, bounced ideas around, and encouraged me when I wasn't sure that I could do this. Without her help, this fic wouldn't be in existence! Dividers by the amazing @saradika-graphics, thank you! (Please note that the chapter graphic is NOT meant to be accurate to Reader — vibes only!)

If you enjoy my writing, please leave a comment, feedback or reblog! It would mean the world to me. Thank you!

“I think that should be everything,” you murmur, closing the back of the forest green Jeep. You card a hand through your hair while going over a mental pack list for the third time this afternoon. Behind you, you feel a soft kiss on your shoulder and warm, strong hands envelop your waist.

“You ready to ride then, sweetness?” asks your boyfriend, Frankie. You smile and lean back into his embrace. “Yeah, I’m really looking forward to this trip,” you say, turning to plant a kiss to his aquiline nose, and then another to his plush lips. You both hop into the car; Frankie navigates towards the coast, while small butterflies dance in the pit of your stomach as you think about how the two of you got here.

You and Frankie Morales met six months ago at the Santa Monica airport. In a bid to encourage team bonding, upper management at your job booked a helicopter tour of the Los Angeles skyline. Frankie was the pilot for your chopper. He charmed your group with his charismatic yet humble demeanor and fun factoids about LA, especially you – your coworkers insisted that he kept staring at you when you weren’t looking. But Frankie ultimately beat you to the punch and asked you out for drinks the following night. You accepted, and the rest is history. The attraction was palpable from the get-go, and Frankie’s go-with-the-flow attitude complimented your fiery personality to a T. You adored how detail-oriented he was in all aspects of his life – memorizing your favorite teas, asking about how your projects were going, knowing exactly how to make you see stars in bed with his fingers, his cock, and especially his tongue. You couldn’t deny that Frankie was the perfect addition to your life, and you to his.

Through those first few weeks, you both divulged the more challenging bits of your lives. Frankie told you about his daughter, Isabella, and how his struggle with cocaine almost ruined his life. His relationship with his ex-wife was strained because of it, but they co-parented well - it was their main goal to ensure that Isabella was never put in the middle of their struggles, that she always felt supported and loved by both of her parents. Frankie had lost his pilot’s license after he failed a random drug test, and he took that as a sign to do the work to fix what was broken. He was now two years sober, and back to flying.

You, in turn, revealed to Frankie that he wasn’t the only man in your life. For the last decade, you’ve been with Joel Miller, your husband of seven years. Joel was the steady compass of your soul, the man whose roots intertwined deeply with those of your heart. You’d loved Joel almost your entire life, having grown up in the same neighborhood, although your crush on him was secretive during your childhood. He was your older brother’s best friend from college, a transplant from Texas whose parents moved to the Bay Area when he was a teenager. You ran into him after getting your master’s degree and moving back to the suburbs of San Francisco, and something sparked between the two of you. Since then, you’d been inseparable. When your work requested that you spend a year going between NorCal and SoCal to establish the new Los Angeles area office, you knew it would be a challenge for your relationship. As it turns out, it was only really a challenge for one reason — your sex drive was incredibly high, and sometimes you were apart from Joel for weeks at a time. Phone and video sex worked as well as it could, but it couldn’t beat the real thing. One night, after a particularly frustrating video sex session — all of your toys ran out of juice and you’d left your charger at home, among other things — Joel surprised you by suggesting that you didn’t need to stay monogamous. 

“Are you sure, Joel?” you asked incredulously. “You’ve never been one to particularly like sharing.”

Joel huffed a laugh. “Yes, darlin’,” he replied. “Lord knows the new office ended up bein’ more work than either of us thought it’d be. I know how much ‘gettin’ yours’ can be de-stressin’ for ya, and I don’t wanna be the reason you can’t seek it. It’s not like you’d be askin’ someone to move in with us. If it helps you, it makes me happy. And it sure would give my phone battery and hands some relief.” He chuckled as you scoffed in mock indignation. “You don’t have to tell me anythin’ you don’t want to about whoever you get involved with. As long as you’re stayin’ safe and they’re treatin’ you as well as I do, then I’m okay with it.”

You sighed in consideration. “Let me think about it some more,” you said, picking at your rental’s bedspread. “It’s not something I’m going to take lightly.”

And then two weeks later, you met Frankie. Frankie was surprisingly relaxed when you told him about Joel, albeit surprised. He’d hesitated to continue things until you got on the phone with Joel and had him tell Frankie himself. After all, you’d checked with Joel within a few days of meeting Frankie just to make sure Joel was still okay with you being with another man.

You made sure to tell Joel when you’d be seeing Frankie, and Frankie didn’t contact you when you were back home with Joel. It wasn’t that either man wanted to pretend the other didn’t exist; rather, they each wanted to respect the other man’s time with you. Frankie wasn’t seeking marriage or starting a family; he wanted to continue using his time and energy on Isabella and getting his career back on track. And Joel was confident in and comfortable with your  marriage in a way that didn’t allow for unseemly jealousy to crop up. 

Gradually you told each of them bits about the other one, until one day Joel suggested that the two of them meet. You were game, but wanted to run it by Frankie first.

“He wants to meet me?” Frankie asked, wringing his hands a bit and looking mildly surprised. The two of you had just finished dinner at one of your favorite taco trucks in LA, and you licked the tips of your fingers as you finished your last al pastor taco, the warm, savory spices dancing on your tongue. Frankie took a sip from his Mexican Coke, his plush lips wrapping around the cool aqua glass of the bottle.

You nod your head in affirmation. “Just for a couple of days. We could make a vacation out of it. Joel suggested maybe we road trip up the coast.”

Frankie looked pensive. You don’t blame him, especially when the two men had made a concerted effort to keep their relationships with you separate. “You’re sure you want to do this?” Frankie asked, searching your eyes for any hesitation. You studied those dark chocolate irises, so similar to Joel’s. 

“Yes, Francisco,” you confirmed, reaching out across the plastic picnic table to touch his hand. The sounds of the city wrapped around you as the two of you gazed at each other. “Joel has my heart, but so do you. And I want both parts of my heart, my favorites, to be with me at the same time for once.”

“Ok, mi amor, let’s go then,” Frankie said resolutely, bringing up your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your skin.

Your thoughts bring you back to the present, with Frankie’s one-hand grip on the steering wheel and the warm coastal sun beaming through the windshield. The windows are down, allowing the salty sea air to filter through the Jeep. He flips on his turn signal and begins driving through a particularly posh part of Malibu. Giant mansions dwarf the street, pristine lawns and modern, open-glass architecture rolling by as you continue on. You let out a low whistle.

“Jesus Christ, what the hell does Santi do again to afford this?” you ask Frankie, eyes flicking to and from each house you pass by.

“Nothing,” Frankie chuckles. “When we got the money from that final mission that Santi and I went on, he invested the entirety of his share into the stock market. Well, almost everything.” He snorts at the champagne Range Rover in Santi’s driveway as the two of you pull up. Frankie, on the other hand, put the majority of his earnings into a trust fund for Isabella. The rest he used to set himself up comfortably but modestly. “Santi still does some consultant work for private security firms, but he just keeps reinvesting the money and using it to buy property and fund charity work,” Frankie explains.

“Can’t say I blame him, it’s a pretty solid strategy,” you respond, taking in the splendor of Santi’s Malibu abode as Frankie parks his Jeep. The three-story home is minimalist and modern on the exterior, with a combination of cool beige stone and warm wood paneling. No other houses are on either side of the building, so the property is ulta-private, and even has its own beach. As the two of you unpack your bags from the car, you hear a wolf whistle shriek from somewhere around the corner. Jumping slightly, you turn and then smile as Santiago Garcia strolls barefoot out of the house, his pale linen slacks and caramel vintage ribbed polo shirt fluttering lightly against his muscular frame in the sea breeze. 

“Hey pendejo, you finally made it!” Santi yells to Frankie, then turns to you with a “hi, hermosa,” and a kiss to your cheek. You wrap your arms around Santi’s torso, inhaling his sandalwood and cinnamon scent and giggling a hello. Frankie walks up, bags in hand, and tries to ruffle Santi’s perfectly coiffed curls. Santi dodges him and then goes in for a bear hug; Frankie smiles broadly as they rock side to side before clapping each other on the back.

“Good to see you, hermano, and thanks for letting us stay with you,” Frankie says warmly as he picks up your luggage and the three of you head towards the house.

“Not a problem, I’m in town for a consulting gig and figured it’d been awhile since we’d gotten together,” Santi responds ahead of you. You and Frankie follow him into the open-concept common area, admiring the sleek countertops, stainless steel fixtures, and plush yet subdued furniture. Light neutrals rule the color palette, with plenty of floor-to-ceiling windows to allow natural light in. You run your hand over the back of a velvet lounger, indulging in the texture against your fingertips. Frankie goes to the bedroom to drop off your luggage, while Santi starts pulling things out in the kitchen for dinner prep. Continuing towards the back of the house, you push open the sliding glass doors, letting fresh air in while you admire the view from the balcony. Below, the azure waves caress the sand gently, and the sound of the ocean encourages you to release all the stress from the last workweek. 

The boys get going on dinner as you slip on a silky emerald green dress - opting to go braless and barefoot - and dab on some rosy lip stain. The dress drapes lushly over your body, making it both comfortable and beautiful. After spritzing on some of your favorite perfume and putting on thin gold hoop earrings, you emerge from the guest bedroom you and Frankie are sharing for the weekend. Santi looks up and hums in approval.

“Damn, bebita, you look delicious,” he purrs as he finishes seasoning the steaks. “Do you always dress up for dinner with this chump or did you get pretty just for me? It’s okay, you can tell the truth.”

You roll your eyes at his cockiness and chuckle as you squeeze his bicep in passing. “Santi, don’t flatter yourself,” you retort, “I did it for myself. I don’t need to dress up for him to want to devour me.” You cross the kitchen to Frankie, who’s working on the caprese salad. Frankie huffs a laugh and puts down the kitchen knife, wiping his hands on a towel before to circling his hands around your waist. You lean into him, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips.

“That’s right,” he shoots back to Santi without looking over, “she doesn’t need extra dressing up; she’s stunning enough as she is.” He kisses your forehead softly as you gaze up at him lovingly.

“You’re right.” Santi lets his gaze scan over you approvingly. “She probably looks even better with nothing on.”

“Santiago!” you laugh. “You’re such an insufferable flirt.” You walk back over to the opposite side of the kitchen island from him, fixing him with a smoldering smirk. “Wouldn’t you like to know, hmm?” Santi has always been relentlessly flirtatious with every attractive woman he meets, including you. Frankie’s never bothered by his antics, but you see his eyes flick towards the two of you, anticipating his response.

“Don’t tease me with promises you won’t keep, sweetheart,” Santi warns you, voice like rich caramel, sweet and smooth. You hold each other’s gazes for a moment before you break away, laughing softly and successfully ruffling his hair like Frankie wanted to earlier. That distracts Santi from the moment, as he huffs and runs his fingers through his curls to fix them.

A few hours later, the three of you are relaxing on the balcony by the fire pit after dinner, drinking mezcal margaritas and catching up on life. You sit with your legs across the cream  patio sofa, your back against Frankie’s side like you often do with him. His arm is draped possessively across your torso while his thumb rubs absentmindedly back and forth across your shoulder. Santi goes inside to fetch the mezcal bottle from the kitchen, having switched to just the liquor, and you stand from the couch to observe the beach at the balcony’s railing. The darkness of night has settled over the landscape, lending deep navies and turquoise hues to the water, and everything feels more hushed. 

As you inhale the coastal breeze, you feel Frankie’s warm body press into you from behind, and then his soft lips pressing a trail of kisses over your shoulder and neck. You hum happily, smelling his rosemary cedar soap on his skin, and press yourself further into him, lightly grinding against his hips. Frankie lets out a quiet groan and presses right back into you, letting you feel his hardening length against your ass. He begins to cup your breasts through the silken fabric of your dress, easily pebbling your nipples with no bra between his fingers and your tits. The heat of arousal starts to pool low in your belly as Frankie slides his hands down to your hips, grinding on you until he’s fully hard beneath his pants. You tilt your head back, closing your eyes, and turn to the side to catch his lips, biting on his lower one and eliciting a louder groan from him. 

“Sweetness, I need you so badly,” Frankie whispers into your ear. When you quietly moan in response, you can feel Frankie’s hands slip down the silk over your ass and hear him shuffle behind you. Spinning around and opening your eyes, you see him on his knees, hat next to him on the floor, starting to ruck up your dress. 

“Frankie,” you hiss, grabbing his hands, desperate for more but concerned. “What if Santi sees?” 

“What if I want to watch?” you hear suddenly over Frankie’s shoulder, and you gasp when you look behind him and realize Santi is leaning against the open balcony door, sipping mezcal straight from the bottle. A fire ripples from the base of your spine upwards, and your gaze drops to Frankie, whose eyes have gone nearly black with desire but remain on you. Your lips pop open slightly, and you freeze.

“Well, querida, answer the man,” Frankie rasps. “Either you let him watch or make him go back inside, but either way, I’m eating this sweet pussy.” His hands slowly drag up your legs until he’s cupping your ass, squeezing the soft flesh, which rips a moan from your throat. As Frankie’s lips trail up and down your legs, you look back up at Santi, trying to read his expression. Gone is the molten chocolate of his irises; instead, you see glimmering adamant, dark and deep like the desire painted over every line of his face. But that heated gaze is still respectful – you know Santi would never cross your boundaries. If you truly didn’t want him to watch, he’d go inside the house, no questions asked. 

It’s for that exact reason that your desire thrums through you like a bass line, and you bite your lip. “Frankie, I need your mouth on me right now. I think Santi needs to see how hard you make me come.”

Frankie responds with a groan, while Santi lets out a deep purring sound. He moves to the couch, sitting with his legs spread, and takes another swig of mezcal as he takes in the sight before him. Frankie immediately yanks your soft lace panties down your thighs, and growls at the gossamer-thin string of arousal that connects your weeping center with your underwear.

“Fuuuuck, querida, you’re fucking soaked,” Frankie moans, inhaling the intoxicating scent near your glossy slit. You step out of your panties, and he grabs them, tossing them to Santi. The man on the couch catches them with one hand, bringing them immediately to his nose and sniffing deeply. 

“Goddamn,” Santi grits out, “she smells so fucking good, hermano.” He brings the gusset of the lace garment to his mouth, gingerly licking the slick off, groaning at the taste. You gasp at the sight, a wave of wetness trickling down your channel. “Tastes amazing too,” he adds, leaning back into the couch cushions and stuffing your panties into his pocket.

Frankie pushes your dress up to your waist and moves your left thigh to rest on his shoulder, spreading you open. He splays your lips open with his thumbs, staring at your pussy glistening in the fire’s light, on display for both him and Santi. He licks a steady strip from the bottom to the top, swirling around your clit at the end. You moan loudly, leaning back against the railing for support.

“Oh bebita, listen to those sweet sounds you’re making for Frankie,” Santi croons from the couch. “He must be making that pussy feel so good.”

“Yes, Santi,” you gasp, swallowing thickly as your eyes close in pleasure. “He’s so fucking good with his tongue.” You hear Santi rumble deep in his chest in response.

Frankie begins licking, sucking, and tapping on your clit exactly like he knows you like it, gripping your cheeks with both hands and massaging them. You writhe against his face, rocketing faster towards your impending orgasm. When you look up, you see Santi palming his cock through his pants, the bulge straining against the linen. Your cunt clenches at the image before you. Frankie can tell you’re close, so he slips two of his fingers into his mouth momentarily to slick them up and then plunges them into your warm cunt. You throw your head back, nearly screaming in ecstasy. Your grip tightens on the railing.

“I know you’re close, querida,” Frankie growls. “Let Santi see how pretty you look when you come.” Frankie then hooks his fingers just right inside of you and hits that soft spot that sends you into orbit, squealing. You feel everything tighten and then release, your orgasm rippling through your core and into your extremities. Frankie and Santi both moan at the sights and sounds of you reaching your peak, Frankie lapping up every drop of release from you.

“Good fucking girl, mamacita,” Santi says, getting up from the couch and stalking towards the both of you. Frankie gets off of his knees, easing your leg off his shoulder while wiping a hand across his drenched mouth. He knows exactly what Santi wants, so he moves back a couple of steps. You almost stumble, legs like jelly, and Santi catches your waist.

He tilts your chin up to meet his eyes, and his assessing gaze breaks through the post-orgasm haze you’re in. “I really want to taste that perfect cunt, baby,” Santi whispers. “Can I do that for you?” You look at him, hesitating for a moment only because this is a line you’ve not crossed with Santi before. You nod clearly at him. Santi shakes his head. “Words, sweetheart.”

“Yes, Santi,” you breathe. “Please put your mouth on me.” Santi groans in anticipation and starts walking backwards, pulling you with him. When you look at him in slight confusion, a sheepish smile passes briefly over his lips.

“Bad knees,” he reminds you, and you laugh. “Kneeling on concrete would kill me.” He tilts his chin to Frankie. “Fish, open the door to the bedroom. I’m gonna lay her down. And bring the bottle.” Frankie obliges, sliding open the other glass door to the expansive bedroom and grabbing the mezcal bottle.

“Can I kiss you?” he whispers. You sigh a yes, and Santi kisses you softly at first, then deeper. He tastes like cinnamon, tropical fruits, and smoky liquor. Moaning quietly, you start to lose yourself in his kiss as he moves the both of you backwards into the bedroom. 

The California king size bed is draped in soft taupes and creams, the bedding a gauzy cotton that feels incredible on your skin as Santi gently lays you on it. He pulls your dress up your body, and you arch your back to help him remove it over your head. As your bare body is exposed to him, glowing in the low light, he sucks in a breath. Frankie places the mezcal bottle on the bedside table, then strips out of everything except his black boxer briefs, his length fully hard against his left thigh, and sits down on a sleek chaise lounger in the corner, watching you and Santi.

Santi strips off his shirt and then climbs onto the bed over you, slowly sliding his hands over your soft skin as he goes. You shift on the bed at his touch, back arching a bit and thighs rubbing together. He keeps his eyes locked with yours as he reaches your head, forearms bracketing either side of your face. His body is so close to yours yet not touching.

Moaning, you tangle your fingers in his salt and pepper curls and pull briefly. Santi bites your lower lip in response with a small growl. Sitting up, he grabs the mezcal off the bedside table.

“Open,” he commands, taking a swig from the glass bottle. You obey, and Santi leans over your open mouth and fucking spits the mezcal into it. You swallow, moaning at the taste, the alcohol and him. He kisses you roughly, licking into your mouth, and you whimper, your legs dropping open of their own accord.

Santi notices and chuckles darkly. “Oh, you liked that, huh?” he purrs. “Dirty girl.” He kisses and nips along your ear and neck, across your collarbone, and down your chest. Reaching your nipples, he swirls his tongue around and then gently nips each of them. You feel slick pooling at your entrance, starting to drip down your inner thighs. Santi traces his tongue down your belly and to the curls above your pussy, inhaling deeply. He pushes your thighs open further and groans at the sight.

“Goddamn, you’re drenched,” he grits out, shuffling down to put his face at your center. You glance over at Frankie in the corner, and notice he has his cock out, slowly stroking the length. You whimper at the sight and Frankie licks his lips. You feel a sudden pinch at your inner thigh and whip your head back to the man between your legs.

“Eyes on me, hermosa,” Santi orders. “I want you to look right at me when I eat this pretty pussy.” And with that, he dives in.

Santi is a messier lover than Frankie, who usually eats you out with absolute precision, priding himself with knowing exactly how to make you come as fast as possible, and repeat the process until you’re crying out from overstimulation. Santi, however, is licking at you like he wants to drown himself in your cunt. His tongue is everywhere, licking broad stripes across your slit, sucking on your lips and clit, biting at your thighs, shoving his tongue deep into your channel. 

“So fucking sweet,” Santi pants out in a daze, separating his mouth from your sopping cunt for just a moment, and then goes back in for more. You mewl and grip the bed sheets as he continues to ravage you.

Your moans of pleasure stir something in Frankie, who gets up from his seat and walks over to the bed, his need to touch you nearly insatiable.

“Frankie,” you whine as you see him, your eyes hazy with lust, reaching out to him. 

“I’m right here, querida,” he reassures you, then gets onto the bed, placing himself behind you. You scooch up the bed so that you’re sitting in between his spread legs, your back to his bare chest. You can feel his hard length against you, silken and hot, his precum smearing slick against your skin. Frankie kisses your forehead, then leans forward and grabs your legs behind the knees, pulling back and spreading you impossibly wider for Santi. The man between your thighs groans, slipping two fingers into you, making your back arch even more.

“Does our little slut like to be spread out? Do you like Frankie holding your legs open for me, bebita?” Santi growls, pumping his fingers in and out of you. You cry out at his words, throwing your head back against Frankie’s shoulder. One of your hands grabs Frankie’s thigh, and the other one grips Santi’s hair once again.

“Yes,” you respond, pushing his head back towards your dripping slit. “Lick my pussy like you mean it, Santi.” He groans deep in his chest and dives back in, and you feel Frankie bite the junction between your neck and shoulder in arousal. Santi continues pumping his fingers into you as he sucks your clit between his lips, swirling his tongue over it in tiny circles. You feel your orgasm begin to rise in your lower belly, intensifying with each thrust and lick. Santi feels your slick walls bear down on his fingers.

“That’s it, honey, I know you want to come for me,” Santi says.

“Give it to us,” Frankie whispers in your ear. “Come for me and Santi.”

Frankie’s command is all it takes to snap the tether in your core, shattering you into pieces as the pleasure courses hot through your body. You scream their names as your pussy gushes wave after wave of slick, running down your thighs and Santi’s fingers, into his waiting mouth, licking and slurping obscenely, his fingers continuing to press into your g-spot to prolong your high.

“God, I need to be inside you right fucking now,” Santi grits out, pussydrunk. He stands up and hurriedly shoves his pants and boxers down his legs, his thick cock springing free and bobbing slightly. You feel your mouth water; his dick is just as gorgeous as Frankie’s. 

Santi meets your eyes once again. “Do you want me to fuck you while Frankie holds you open, sweetheart?” Santi asks you. You pause, your pleasure-addled mind narrowing in on one idea – having them both.

“I want you both,” you moan. Santi’s eyes widen a bit and then dart to Frankie. They share a smirk and then Frankie turns to you in his lap.

“Querida, how do you want us?” Frankie inquires. “One at a time or at the same time?”

“At the same time,” you whimper. “I want you both in my pussy.”

Santi and Frankie groan in unison. Santi smiles wickedly, looking at Frankie. “Well, it wouldn’t be the first time, eh?”

“Just like we used to,” Frankie chuckles darkly, and your fuzzy mind tucks away their exchange for later. “We have to get her ready, then.” He slowly releases your knees and turns to you, kissing the side of your face and lightly nibbling your ear. He grabs your chin gently with his fingers, turning your head sideways to meet his eyes. “We’re going to work you open first, okay, baby?” he intones softly. You nod your head yes. Santi and Frankie’s eyes meet, and Santi opens the bedside table drawer, grabbing a bottle of lube and tossing it to Frankie. 

He catches it, reading the label. “Guava?” Frankie asks quizzically. “What happened to the mango-pineapple one?”

Santi shrugs. “I still have it,” he explains, “but guava goes better with pussy and mezcal.” You huff a laugh and Frankie smiles, kissing your forehead again and sweeping your hair out of your face.

“Guess we have an edible lube connoisseur here,” jokes Frankie, opening the cap and pouring some of the slick liquid onto his thick digits. 

The sweet, juicy fruit scent wafts through the air, and Santi grabs the bottle from him, doing the same while shaking his head incredulously.“It’s not my fault that you have no sense of refinement,” he retorts. Frankie just rolls his eyes and turns back to you.

“Are you ready, sweetness?” Frankie murmurs. You nod your head and breathe out a “yes, baby”. Frankie reaches in front of himself and slips his two lubed fingers into you, and you whimper softly. Santi follows suit, slipping two of his fingers into you next, kneeling between your legs. You feel stretched full but so turned on. They allow you a few moments to adjust, and when you nod your head, they begin swirling their fingers in opposite directions. A moan rips from your throat and you grab at the bedsheets. They continue swirling and pressing their fingers in and out, and the sight of your pussy filled with their fingers gets the both of them rock hard.

The cloud of euphoria in your head is all-consuming as they continue, your arousal reaching an almost painful peak. Suddenly you grab their wrists and both men stop immediately, concern crossing their faces. “Are you okay, bebita?” Frankie asks, his brows furrowing. 

You nod your head rapidly, and then bleat out, “I need you both inside me right now.” Santi and Frankie grin at your fucked out expression, looking at each other conspiratorially.

“Well, you heard the lady, Pope,” Frankie says. “Let’s give her what she wants.” He shifts you forward as he moves to the side, pulling his underwear all the way off. He lays on his back on the bed, his hard cock against his stomach dripping pre-cum. “I want you to ride me, hermosa, and then Santi is going to enter you from behind as you lean forward,” Frankie explains.

You nod your head in understanding and straddle his thighs, facing him. Frankie hands you the lube bottle. You dribble a stream onto his waiting thickness, and he hisses as the cool liquid hits his hot velvet skin. Grabbing his slick length, you shuffle forward and guide him into your channel, whining when he bottoms out easily. Frankie reaches up and grips your hips, guiding you to ride him.

After a minute, he looks over your shoulder at Santi, who is slowly stroking his dick. “I think she’s ready, Fish,” Santi says, and Frankie nods once. Santi gets on the bed, coming to his knees behind you and grabbing your hips. Frankie slides his hands to your back, gently pulling you towards him until you’re leaning forward, laying chest to chest, your pussy on full display for Santi, stuffed with Frankie’s cock. You hear Santi groan behind you at the sight.

“I can’t believe you’re letting me do this, bebita,” Santi admits as he slicks up his hardness with the lube. “Been thinking about being inside this pussy for months.”

“Well, now’s your chance,” you tease, looking back at him. “Better hurry before the offer expires.” Santi smirks at you as he places his hands on your hips.

The moment you feel the head of Santi’s cock slide into your pussy, you gasp as the sting of the stretch hits you. You hear Santi behind you grit out a quiet “fuck”. Slowly he continues sinking into your hot, wet heat. Reaching forward, he circles your throbbing clit softly, making you whine but relax, allowing him to slip deeper into you, inch by inch. Your pussy twitches and both Santi and Frankie choke on moans. 

When he fills you as far as you can take both of them, the three of you hold still. As the seconds pass, the sting gives way as you adjust to being this full. The result is rolling waves of lightning sparking through your veins with each minute movement inside of you. You let out a high-pitched whine as a knot of white-hot pleasure tightens in your core.

“Mierda, bebita,” Frankie moaned, “are you gonna come just from both of us being in you?”

“God, she feels so fucking good,” Santi murmurs, almost to himself. Both of them are gripping you tightly as you continue to whimper and whine, your high quickly building. Your breathing intensifies, and you start to shake. 

It’s so much, being so full of them physically, and the thought of them both in you - two of the most attractive, sexy men you know - is nearly making you lose your mind. But you don’t want to come before your boys have even gotten to move. It almost feels like a weakness, being this fucked out for them.

“It’s ok, sweetness, let go,” says Frankie softly, realizing you’re holding off for them. He presses a kiss to your neck and it’s your undoing. 

The brush of his lips against that sensitive spot right under your ear pushes you off the edge and you wail, your pleasure cresting as you jerk under their firm grips. They moan loudly, your pleasure stoking theirs. The three of you catch your breaths as you come down from your high.

Frankie looks up at you, eyes pitch black, swimming with devotion for you. Santi strokes your hips gently, his strong hands shaking slightly.

“How are you feeling?” Frankie asks you sweetly, rubbing his hands across your back, his thighs clenching from holding back. 

You take a shaky breath. “So fucking full,” you respond, and then giggle softly at your obvious observation. The boys laugh too, and then moan slightly as your bodies shift. Santi squeezes your hips and asks, “Are you ready for us to move, hermosa?” Your head is swimming in endorphins as you whimper out, “Yes, Santi. I need both of you to fuck me now.”

With that, the two men lock eyes and nod, beginning an apparently practiced dance of their cocks. As Frankie slides himself out, Santi pushes in, and then they reverse roles. You cry out in ecstasy. It’s so much more than you could have ever imagined.

Frankie and Santi start off with slow, shallow thrusts in and out, gradually stretching you around their lengths. When Frankie hits a particularly sweet spot, you moan fervently and more slick coats them, making them both moan back in response. The friction between their cocks and your walls is delicious.

“Fuck, bebita, you look incredible taking the both of us,” Santi says, gripping your hips harder, a sheen of sweat glimmering across his body. 

Frankie hums in agreement. “You’re doing so well, baby,” he praises. You preen at their words, arching your back to change the angle. Santi whimpers and kisses along your spine, worshiping your body. The room is thick with the smell of sex, guava, and mezcal, the squelching sounds of your pussy weaving between all three of your moans and cries of pleasure.

The boys begin to speed up the wetter you get, starting to fuck into you with vigor. You feel like your whole body is vibrating. Leaning down to kiss Frankie changes the angle once again, and Santi lets out yet another whimper as you slide your tongue along Frankie’s.

“Fuck, baby, just like that, that’s perfect,” he gasps, getting even harder inside of you. He starts to rub your clit in tight circles, making you yelp. “I want you to come one more time for us before we fill you up,” he continues. “Gonna make your pussy milk our cocks. C’mon, honey, you’ve got one more in you, I can feel it.”

“I don’t know,” you whimper. “I - it’s so much…”

Frankie lets out a growl. “Oh, querida, I know you can come for us one more time,” he says. “Just think about how full of cock you are right now.”

He’s right. The psychological thrill of having both men inside of you is the push you need. You start to shake again, everything tensing up. Both men moan as your channel pulls tight.

Santi leans down to your ear, still thumbing your clit. “Fucking come for us. That’s an order.”

You scream so loudly when your fourth orgasm hits you, that you’re grateful that Santi has no neighbors - because they definitely would have called the cops by now. Tears leak down your face from the intensity, and Santi whimpers loudly as he thrusts in and comes deep in you, his hot seed coating your walls. The tightness of your pussy and Santi shoving deep end up pushing Frankie’s cock out, but he couldn’t care less. 

When Santi’s strokes slow and then stop, indicating he’s finished, Frankie pushes him off of you, and roughly flips you over onto your back. He shoves your legs apart, and pushes his dick harshly into you. Boneless, you lay there, moaning and taking it, unable to say anything coherent except for Frankie’s name. Your boyfriend presses your legs even further towards your shoulders, nearly bending you in half as he fucks into you hard and fast, Santi’s cum forced out of you with every snap of Frankie’s hips.

“God, you look like such a goddess right now,” Frankie babbles, nearly snarling, “so full of cum. You like that? You want me to fill you up good? You’re gonna be leaking our cum for days, querida.”

“Yes, Frankie, yes,” you moan, “please fill me up. I love your cum in me. I wanna be so full of both of you.”

With a shout, Frankie bares his teeth and comes, getting as deep as possible and filling up your cunt just like he promised. You feel his cum thick and hot in you, triggering another moan. 

Frankie drops your knees back down to the bed, nearly collapsing down against your chest while the two of you pant heavily, trying to catch your breaths. Looking over, you spot Santi sitting up at the corner of the bed, looking disheveled but utterly sated, his now-soft cock still shiny with lube and your combined releases. 

You reach your hand out to him, and he crawls towards you, slotting himself next to one side, while Frankie hisses as he pulls out of you and lays next to you on your other side. He smothers your neck and face with kisses, and you giggle, feeling Santi pepper kisses across the top of your head and stroking the underside of your breast affectionately with his thumb.

You let out a contented sigh. “Wow, that was…”

Frankie hums out an “incredible” at the exact same time Santi rumbles a “so fucking good” to complete your statement, which makes the three of you laugh. Giggles subsiding, something they said in the heat of the moment suddenly pops into your mind.

“Wait a second,” you say as you sit up. Both men lazily look up at you, faces blissed out, waiting for your question. “Frankie, you said, ‘just like old times’... How many times have you double teamed with Santi?”

The two of them look at each other with nearly identical smirks. Santi pipes up first. “Well, back in our Army grunt days,” he explains, “when we’d go on leave together, we kind of had this habit of teaming up to pick up women.” Your jaw drops slightly, and Santi looks amused at your shock.

“It was a fairly effective strategy,” Frankie continues. “Trying to land a girl alone was a crapshoot. But with the both of us offering her a night to remember?” Frankie huffs. “It seemed like fantasy fulfillment for almost every woman we fucked together.”

Your eyes rake over the two of them, gloriously naked and handsome as ever, in bed with you. Yeah, you can see the appeal. 

“Okay, but who came up with the idea?” You ask, then immediately put up a hand into the air. “WAIT, no, I know exactly who… Santi, you slut!”

Frankie lets out a loud bark of a laugh as Santi rolls his eyes, folding his arms over his chest, annoyed. 

“Hey, don’t act like you didn’t benefit from it, idiota!” Santi grumbles. Frankie reaches over, finally successfully ruffling Santi’s hair. Santi flinches and bats Frankie’s hand away, making you shake with laughter as you lounge in the post-coital haze with your boyfriend and his best friend. You don’t blame those women they slept with one bit. This was a night you will surely remember.

No pressure tags: @mermaidgirl30 @legendary-pink-dot @nerdieforpedro @mountainsandmayhem @arcanefox207 @campingwiththecharmings @exquisit3corpse @gutsby @honeyedmiller @lavendertales @lu62 @luxurychristmaspudding @ozarkthedog @qveerthe0ry @swiftispunk @sheepdogchick3 @thatshortgirlwithglasses @wannab-urs @musings-of-a-rose

[luckieduckiie]

im fried | d. dennis

you and your friend are in the club and you spot future… or you think you do.

the lights were dim, a little too dim some may say, but it didnt help that you were drunk either. too drunk, and well maybe a little high too.

“bro, is that future ?” you say to your friend, pulling her close, your eyes wide as you point to the dreaded man standing in the vip section.

“bitch!” she exclaims jumping up and down. “it is oh my god! OH MY GOD!”

a grin finds its way to your face as you look at her.

“im the shit bitch i know.” you say smugly. “ im going to go ask for a picture come one.”

you feel her hand grab your belt loop as she follows you throughout the sea of people, a chorus of excuse me’s and sorry’s stream from your lips as you finally get to the edge of his section. as you are looking up at him you notice the diamond smile he had on his face.

“sir, sir excuse me” you say, well yell. the noise was deafening.

he glances down at you and the smile widens.

“yes gorgeous.” he says, a slight southern drawl playing on his tongue and from the sound of that you should have know that it was indeed not mr hendrix as you had initially anticipated.

“ i love your music!” you say exclaim happily.

“ im sorry, what you say?” he questions leaning down over the edge of the wall that was between you two.

“ i love your music,” you say getting closer to his ear giggling. “ cause i am fried yes fried and very fucked up” you recite the lyrics back to him.

a deep laugh errupts from his as he stands back up causing you to look at him quizzically.

“so, can i get a picture?” you yell, confusion setting in.

“ yeah, yall come on up here sweetheart.” he says the word sending shivers down your spine. he motions for you and your friend to come.

he walks over and meets you at the entrance signaling the man guarding it that you could enter.

you immediately go in for a hug without thinking and your friend who is prepared snaps the picture.

“ oh ok, damn.” he laughs wrapping his arms around you large hands gripping your waist. you cant help but bask in his scent. it exudes sex and masculinity. it smells exactly as he look.

“you smell so good.” you say looking up at him head still resting on his chest.

the look he gives you says it all. “ thank ya.” he says smiling at you then licks his lips.

“ yo friend want one too mama?” he asks lowly eyes still locked on yours.

“oh, shit yeah.” you say pulling away, sighing at the loss of his body against yours.

“here girl.” you say reaching for the phone.

she goes over and just wraps her arm around his waist and his over her shoulder, the other going up into a peace sign. a sense of satisfaction arises in you as you see he didnt embrace her just like he did you but leaves as soon as you see the big smile on her face. she was happy for you and you the same for her, besides he wasnt your man anyway.

you click a few pictures and then she pulls away and thanks him coming back over to you and grabbing the phone to look at them

“yall wanna chill with us for a lil bit?” he asks motioning to the group of guys surrounding him.

“yeah.” you reply without even realizing, looking at your friend and she nods too.

“type shit” he says. you both follow him to the couch and as he sits he leaves room for you both on the side of him.

“so where yall from?” he asks looking between the both of you.

“ texas, but we go to school out here!” your friend answers smiling.

“type shit, what yall studying?” he asks curiosity genuine.

“im working on my masters in business and she is currently working on a phd in biology.” she says motioning to you. “she really smart as hell. tell him bout your research” she says smirking at you and you smile in response, her way of saying he yours girl.

his eyes widens as he look at you and you begin to explain, “ uh yeah my thesis is on the rate of duplication in cancer cells in african americans.”

“oh shit, you gone be a doctor.” he asks.

“thats the goal but i dont know shit is crazy.” you say staring at him. as you look you start to realize he is lacking nose piercings and the signature blond on his dreads.

your eyes widen as you come to the realization. “oh my God youre not future.” you exclaim standing up.

a loud laugh erupts from him and your friend stand up as well when she realizes this and she moves to your side.

“thats who you thought i was?” he is able to say between his laugh.

embarrassment burns through your body at this and you begin slightly angry.

“obviously!” you say irritation heavy in your voice.

as he notices this his laugh stops and smile drops.

“yo calm down.” he says reaching a hand out to grab yours and you pull away disgust on your face.

“dont fucking touch me.” you say grabbing your friend. “come on lets go.” you say grabbing her hand and pulling her towards the exit.

“what the fuck.” you hear him say behind you. you dont care, not only did he laugh at you, he lied to you. or at least in your eyes he did and that alone was enough to piss you off and ruin your night- your high too.

yall im really rusty at writing but i got the idea for this when i was high & i think i wanna do another part or two ! let me know what yall think cause there aint enough on here about dada

[junkdrawerfics]

Not So Simple Moments

Some of you requested a part 2 to "Simple Moments" so this is that! It's not what I planned, but I like it and I hope you do too!

Summary: You decide it's time to broach the topic of you being turned with Jasper. He really doesn't want to talk about it, but you're both adults and you love each other, so you talk about it.

Word Count: 1362

Warnings: nothing serious, mostly a little bit of angst and fluff

---

“Alice says you’re going to turn me,” you mention offhandedly as you run your fingers through Jasper’s hair, sectioning off a few pieces before starting a braid.

The blond stiffens where he’s sat in front of you. When you invited him over to watch Wall-e, this was certainly not what he was expecting. 

“Alice says a lot of things,” he murmurs slowly, keeping his eyes trained on the rusty, little robot on the screen.

Out of all the movies you’ve made him watch, this one seems to feel oddly familiar. It’s much like your story. Him, an old creature, obviously out of place in this world, falling irrevocably for something so sweet and fiery like the white robot, like you. Being terrified of letting you go. Terrified of you getting hurt.

Pinning the braid to the back of his head, you move to the other side of his temple and quietly ask, “What do you say about it?”

Jasper takes a deep, unnecessary breath, his next word slow, hesitant to roll off his tongue, “Darlin’...”

You press your lips together. That's a familiar tone. It’s the one he uses when he wants to avoid a conversation. You need to talk about this though. 

“Does it scare you?” You ask, voice still soft as you twist the strands together.

The blond is silent for a moment. The only sound in the room is the soft music of the movie, and you hum along as you tie off the braid and pin it with the other, forming a little crown around his head. You know he’s thinking, trying to figure out exactly what to say, he just needs the time.

Fondly, you curl your arms around Jasper’s shoulders and give him a soft squeeze. You’d wait a million years for him, if that’s what he needs, and that feeling must rub off on the vampire, because he leans into your embrace, rigidness slipping away.

“I don’t understand you, darlin’,” Jasper drawls, tilting his head a fraction to look at you. You press a gentle kiss to his lips, drawing a familiar, slanted grin from him. “I’ve lived 161 years and never met anyone like you.”

“You’re avoiding my question, Jas,” you chastise, despite the blush dusting your cheeks, “Don’t think you can distract me with your southern charm.”

“You don’t think it’ll work?” Those amber eyes gleam with mischief as he beams up at you.

“Not today, cowboy.” You carefully ruffle his hair before straightening up and letting yourself be a little more serious. “I think we should talk about this, Jas. It’s important to me.”

Jasper’s brow furrows, all too aware of how truthful you’re being. Pushing himself up from the floor, he settles down next to you on the bed. He leaves a respectful gap between you, just a handful of inches, but it feels like a chasm, so you scoot closer and take his hand. Jasper instinctively intertwines them, his thumb brushing tenderly over your knuckles, and it just feels right.

“Does it scare you?” You ask again, voice practically a whisper.

“Which part?”

“Either?” You analyze Jasper’s face, searching for any clue of what he might be thinking, but his features are carefully blank. The buzz of nerves in your chest only worsen at that. “Do you want me to turn?”

“Yes.”

You let out a heavy breath. The single word eases every sliver of doubt you’ve been carrying the past few weeks, and he can feel it.

“It would be nice to not want to kill you, darlin’,” Jasper jokes (only partially) with a small smirk as he brings your wrist to his lips, pressing them daringly to your pulse, “And I’d be a fool to not want a forever with you.”

“Well, you are no fool,” you giggle, heart racing away, and you know Jasper can hear it when he perks a teasing brow at you.

“I most certainly am not, ma’am.”

“Don’t you dare start with that.” You shoot him a glare, but the smirk never leaves his lips as the vampire presses another kiss to your knuckles.

You linger in the moment, in the feeling of his cold touch. The silence between the two of you is heavy but comfortable, like a blanket, sealing you off from the rest of the world. You don’t even remember the movie playing in the background. It’s just you and Jasper.

“So you’re scared of the “you” part,” you whisper eventually, finitely.

Jasper replies, reluctant and quiet, “I can’t hurt you, darlin’.”

“Even if it’s something I want?”

His lips draw into a tight line. You can practically see the conflict play out in his eyes, like flashing gunfire. Like a wild animal, frozen between fight or flight and fear. Fear of himself. A sad sigh slips past your lips when you realize why. He still sees himself as the monster.

“Jasper,” you start and drop his hand in favor of cupping his face gently. He needs to feel you on this. His amber eyes bore into yours, wide and uncertain. “I will never make you do something you don’t want to do, ever. What you want is important to me. We are a team, right?” He gives a slight nod, and you smile. “So I want this, and I want it to be you, not just because I love you, but because I trust you, Jasper. But if you don’t want to, that’s okay.”

Jasper’s eyes dart between yours, edged with an unspoken desperation. It’s like he’s not 160 years old, and instead the young teenager he was when he was turned. The years slip away and he feels just as scared as he had back then.

Yet here you are, with far fewer years, only the existence of this small town behind you, looking at him, and telling him he has a choice. Telling him you trust him. And he can feel it, feel the absolute earnesty in your words, the love pouring off of you as you look at him with such gentleness and understanding. It’s like warmth pouring over him, something he hasn’t felt in such a long time.

“Now,” you hum, reassured by the way his eyes settle and how his shoulders slump, like the weight is finally falling off of them, “that was a lot, so we are going to finish this movie, okay? And you’re going to take your time to think about it, because we’re not rushing into anything.”

You lean forward and give him a kiss. It’s soft, just the barest press of your lips to his, but when you draw back, there’s that relieved grin pulling at his lips again. Jasper catches you by the waist before you can pull away, drawing you right back in. His lips press insistently to yours, though his touch remains overwhelmingly gentle, like you are the most fragile piece of porcelain. It makes something warm pool deep in your chest, leaving you breathless when you finally pull away.

“I’m afraid we might have to start to movie over,” Jasper muses after a moment, and you can’t help but burst into a fit of giggles, still trying to catch your breath.

“Were you enjoying it?” You ask, eyes suddenly wide with excitement.

“I was.” The vampire presses another, fond kiss to your forehead, drawing the cutest sigh from you. “Though I enjoy your presence even more.”

“...You just liked me playing with your hair, didn’t you?”

You can feel his lips stretch into a smirk against your skin, and you swat playfully at his chest.

“That doesn’t mean I wasn’t enjoying the movie” he defends himself, voice bright with concealed laughter.

“Sure, cowboy, now shush. I don’t have the energy to lecture you twice,” you declare, twisting so you can look at the tv again.

“I wouldn’t dare bring your wrath down again,” he teases as he pulls you into his lap, chin propping on your shoulder.

“If you think that was my wrath, we’re in for a bumpy road, cowboy.” 

“It’s a good thing we’ll have forever then, won’t it darlin’?”

You smile, heart fluttering at the promise behind his words.

“It certainly is.”

---

This definitely took on a life of its own when I started writing, as most of my stuff does. I'll hopefully write another part with the actually turning, because a few people wanted that, but I liked this conversation and thought it'd be important.

Also, Jasper identifying with Wall-e is something I never knew I needed in this life, but it just works so gosh dang well.

[nateconnolly]

What Does the Lion Turtle Chant Mean?

A podcast episode about the spirituality of Avatar: The Last Airbender.

Transcript Preview:

Many people have told me they struggle to take Sozin’s Comet seriously because they would have killed the Fire Lord without hesitation. And, look, as far as I’m concerned — if you’re willing to kill a genocidal colonizer, good for you! Many blessings upon your journey! And the show isn’t trying to dissuade you. 

Aang is not the only voice of wisdom in Avatar. He’s not a puppet through which the text articulates its meaning. Avatar is about cultural exchange. When one character says what they think is true, that isn’t necessarily the moral of a story. That’s one voice, and the story is a conversation. So, I don’t think that Sozin’s Comet is using Aang to say “Hey, you, you, looking at the TV, you personally should never support violent revolution!” Water Tribe culture doesn’t seem to have any problem with killing on the battlefield. 

When Sokka lops off the Melon Lord’s head, there’s some very clear indications that we’re supposed to be troubled. The musical cue, Momo eating the melon, he lingering focus on Aang’s reaction … But I don’t think this scene is meant to communicate that Sokka is a bad guy. Or that soldiers are inherently bad people. I assume that Hakoda, Bato, and Tyro killed people. These figures are portrayed as admirable, and even as mentors. 

The scene in which Sokka kills the Melon Lord is there to illustrate the difference between Southern Water Tribe culture and Air Nomad culture. Sokka’s journey is about embracing and reclaiming all the parts of his culture that the Fire Nation tried to destroy. He wasn’t able to go ice dodging or to train as a wolf warrior, but he has found a way to become a strong, protective man anyways. And that does mean that he’s willing to kill or die for a cause he believes in. This scene doesn’t communicate that Sokka is a bad person. It communicates that Sokka is walking his own path, and that Aang is walking a different path. But the show doesn’t try to tell you one of them is wrong and the other is right. 

At the same time, I think we need to remember that Aang is saying something he believes. It’s not just an emotional problem for him. 

Aang gives multiple related, but different reasons not to kill the Fire Lord.

“I didn’t feel like myself.” 

The Fire Lord “is still a human being.”

Killing goes against “everything the monks taught me.”

“All life is sacred.”

In Southern Raiders, he also makes a more general claim that “violence is never the answer,” but I think that the writers had to use the word “violence” as a euphemism. In our normal usage of the word, punching somebody would be a “violent” act. Aang clearly has no problem whacking people over the head or shooting wind at them. I think this is a way of making the show more kid friendly, and that what Aang actually means is 

“[Killing] is never the answer.”

Some of these claims are about Aang as an individual. He’s saying he doesn’t feel like he, specifically, can kill someone. That it goes against the values of his culture. And some of these are universal claims. He’s saying no one should kill, not ever. 

But he also believes in a separate ethical mandate. As the Avatar, he has to protect the world. In this lifetime, that means preventing the Fire Lord from burning the Earth Kingdom. 

This is a story about moral standards, and they seem impossible to live up to. There’s no easy answer. If you believe that murder is wrong, and you believe in the duties of the Avatar, then you have a conflict of values, not just emotions. In order to understand the Buddhist themes of Sozin’s Comet, we have to understand Buddhist ideas of morality. 

This podcast episode

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Nate's short story about Buddhism

Transcript with Citations

[laxmiree]

[CN] MLQC’s Lucien - First Snowfall Date - English Translation

⚠️ SPOILER ALERT!! ⚠️

This post contains a detailed spoiler for a date that has not been released in EN yet! Feel free to notify me if there are any mistakes in the translation~

Lucien’s 2024 CN Birthday Event (Golden Love Ratio)✧ Birthday Story | Birthday Prologue + Birthday Date (You’re here!) | ASMR

"Actually, the reason for wanting to own a castle is quite simple."

"Because that way, I could have a space of my own to carry out those daring and even dangerous experiments."

"And my parents could also accompany me in the castle, pursuing the research they are deeply passionate about."

"That way, they wouldn’t have to be 'trapped' in the lab all the time."

Translation under the cut!

I’m sorry for dropping this so late. As you might have seen from my tweet, my dad was hospitalized in ICU this month. I’m still struggling emotionally now as I wait for him to wake up. It’s been a difficult time, and the grief is still heavy on me as he hasn’t regained consciousness yet… 

Sharing this date translation is the least I can do to celebrate his birthday for now, even though I won’t be annoyingly scream about it like I usually would hhhh. I guess this date feels a bit like a small comfort—a reminder that even if your loved ones have passed away, it’s not all sadness. There’s still warmth in the memories they left behind :”””.

So, Xu Mo, happy birthday. I’m so happy to see you finally embracing your past with such warmth and nostalgia. Honestly, this year feels like it’s all about him finally gaining ‘blood and flesh,’ becoming more human and beautifully stained with the colors of the mortal world. His world is no longer monochrome, and now he’s moving toward the most vibrant and colorful spring. 

✂———————–

Before reading recommendations:

[2024 Birthday Birthday (a MUST read because this date is heavily reference this!) - My Translation]

[Winery date - Youtube (EN Loc)] 

—秋天是个本身就是带着悲伤和落寞的季节， 但是秋天也拥有盛放的花草， 拥有醇美的葡萄 酒， 还有不变的思念。(Autumn itself is a season inherently tinged with sadness and loneliness. Yet, autumn also boasts blooming flowers and thriving plants, rich and mellow wines, and unwavering longing.’) 

[Autumn Blaze Date - Youtube (EN Loc)]

No tear-floods, Nor sigh-tempests move. The fulfillment of a promise is...

“诺言的实现是别离的开始”。(“The fulfillment of a promise is the beginning of separation.")

[Tidying Up Date - My Translation - Youtube (EN Loc)]

—如果在那些被定格的风景里,你依然生动 鲜活,是否证明我还想念着你。(If in those frozen scenes, you still appear vivid and lively as before, does that mean I still miss you?)

那些被我判定为重要的事,即便现在已经 不再拥有同样的心情,那我是否还爱着你。(If what I previously judged to be important no longer reflects my feelings now, does that mean I still love you?)

✂———————–

[Birthday Prologue]

Sunlight shines on the sofa, and the cozy warmth makes me lift my head from my laptop, stretching with a big, lazy yawn.

MC: It always feels like something’s missing…

Lucien's birthday is coming soon, and to properly celebrate that day, he's been rushing his experiments progress lately, making him incredibly busy.

So, I want to give him a "soft and fluffy" birthday where he can lie down anytime and anywhere.

It's just that I've run into a little problem for the time being.

=Flashback Start=

MC: Lucien, what do you think of this town?

Lucien: It seems quite nice. It just so happens that the lab next door seems to be going here to do some research.

MC: What? No, no, if we're not careful, you'll be swept away by work!

I took out my Plan B and placed it in front of Lucien.

MC: How about this southern city then~ It should be very warm here.

Lucien: Hmm... If you don't want to be disturbed by outsiders, I'm afraid this place won't work either.

Lucien: I remember an academic summit is being held here soon. I just returned the call and declined the invitation to attend.

=Flashback End=

Therefore, after several plans were forced to be aborted one after another, my gaze inevitably shifted to the other side of the ocean.

Let's go somewhere farther away!

That way, Lucien can have a peaceful birthday without being disturbed by work or the outside world.

I immediately change my search keywords and start browsing travel guides for long-distance birthday trips.

Suddenly, a relevant news notification pops up on the webpage.

A castle museum owned by a renowned inventor from the last century will soon be open to the public.

In the photo, the historic castle is adorned with falling red leaves in the sunlight, resembling a piece of condensed amber.

I excitedly click on it and discover that, in addition to the open exhibition area, the castle is also available for rent by the square meter.

MC: ...Castle rental?

My eyes light up, and an idea forms in my mind.

✂———————–

When Lucien returns in the evening, I quietly close my laptop and walk to the door with a smile.

MC: Lucien—welcome home~ Ahem, I have a new idea about your birthday!

Lucien takes off his coat and gently embraces me, his eyes reflecting a soft, tranquil smile like the surface of a shallow water.

Lucien: What's the idea?

MC: Heehee, let me give you a hint~ How about we go somewhere far away for your birthday this time, a place with a vintage feel?

A gentle puff of air that seems like a suppressed chuckle reaches my ears, and a thoughtful expression appears on Lucien's face.

Lucien: Hmm... So, how vintage are we talking?

MC: Like, no elevator, and maybe no heating?

Lucien: Sounds like it could be a bit cold. It seems we'll need to pack some warm clothes.

I subconsciously nod, then immediately react.

MC: Wait, you've already agreed?

Lucien: Mm, after all, celebrating a birthday in a castle is a very appealing option.

MC: !!

MC: Hey! I clearly kept it under wraps, I haven’t even booked the tickets yet.... how did you figure it out so quickly?

Lucien's lips curve into a smile as he takes my hand, his index finger gently tapping on the back of my hand.

Lucien: It's probably because... your browsing history is synced to my computer.

✂———————–

[Date]

If you want to follow along with the voice- you can hear it here . The date starts at 14:10

=[Part 1]=

The late autumn sunshine is softened by the clouds, leaping through the glass window and casting a honey-like, mottled glow on the wooden floor.

MC: Mmh…

The cold air wakes me. As I'm about to stretch, my right hand accidentally brushes against something warm and soft.

Lucien lies peacefully beside me, breathing steadily. His brow, furrowed from days of relentless work, finally relaxes as he falls into a deep well of sleep.

We crossed the ocean and arrived at an ancient castle on the Atlantic coast last night.

It is said that this castle was personally designed and built by an inventor from the electrical era. He gifted it to his wife as a wedding present upon its completion.

They fell in love as they settled down at this very place, continuously building love founded on mutual companionship. Here they remained until they eventually passed away together and were laid to rest eternally within the castle grounds.

The profound emotions and story, coupled with the beautiful view of maple leaves and the ancient castle before my eyes, strengthen my resolve to rent this castle.

Amidst the intermingling of light and shadow this early morning, I quietly gaze at Lucien and a soft warmth wells up in my heart.

A hand with defined knuckles encloses my right hand, his palm pressed against the back of my hand, transmitting his body heat.

It's as if he's reluctant to grasp it tightly, yet unwilling to let go, so he just gently cups my hand.

I raise the hand that he isn’t holding, my fingertips hovering at the smallest distance as I trace the outline of his features.

Eyelashes, the bridge of his nose, his lips… until those closed eyelids suddenly quiver and blink lightly.

Lucien slowly opens his eyes, a hint of soft sleepiness lingering in them.

His hold on my hand tightens as he looks at me drowsily, revealing a gentle, soft smile under the sunlight.

I shift my body slightly, blocking the sunlight that's falling into his eyes, then lean down and gently press my cheek against his.

MC: Happy birthday, Professor Lucien~

Lucien: [his sleepy, soft voice is so cute-] Thank you, my little lady.

He tilts his face up, nuzzling affectionately against my cheek. The sunlight falls on his side profile, making him look fluffy.

The strands of his hair tangle with mine, stirring tender and lingering itches.

Lucien: Waking up in a castle and hearing MC's blessing, I must be the happiest person in the world right now.

Lucien: If I were to say there's still something missing, it would probably be...

Lucien: [chuckles] You're right. This castle is indeed quite cold.

His teasing tone makes me unable to resist lifting the corner of my lips. I snuggle closer, resting my cheek on his collarbone and nuzzling against it, warming the slightly cold patch of skin.

After warming up his skin that was exposed to the air, I tilt my face up to look at him.

MC: Being here with you under the covers like this makes it feel just a bit warmer.  

MC: However, getting up and moving around might help warm up our body too.

I wink at Lucien, speaking with a feigned seriousness that makes the matter seem like a big deal.

MC: I’ve decided to leave this difficult decision to the esteemed castle owner. May I ask, what would Your Highness like to do*?

My words are the picture of courtesy, yet I press myself against Lucien, my hand boldly and unreservedly traces his cheek.

His chest, pressed tightly against mine, trembles softly. Lucien takes my fingers, bringing them to his pale lips for a gentle kiss.

Lucien: Since I’m the owner of this castle... then, I want to stay in bed with my girlfriend for a bit longer right now.

He looks at me and blinks, his eyelashes casting a warm shadow on his cheek.

Lucien: [chuckles] Is that okay?

His voice holds a touch of playful mischievousness. I meet those eyes filled with smiles and feel a little dazed.

MC: Of course…

Before I can even finish speaking, I feel his hand tighten around my waist, and I yield as he wraps me back in the blanket again.

From just a breath away, I hear Lucien's long, contented exhale.

Lucien: [chuckles softly, then exhales comfortably] Then stay with me a little longer, let's indulge in bed a bit more.

✂———————–

*: MC playfully used 您 (nin) here, which is like the formal way to say ‘you’. I translate this to ‘Your Highness’ as an attempt to capture this~

✂———————–

=[Part 2]=

We linger in bed until almost noon when Lucien finally 'digs' me out of the warm covers while I’m still drowsy from sleep.

After freshening up, we enjoy the sumptuous and exquisite brunch prepared by the butler.

Before the birthday dinner arrives, we still have a long stretch of leisurely time that we can freely arrange.

Considering this rare opportunity to vacation in the castle, we decide to spend half the day on the castle's lawn.

Late autumn is a season of vibrant colors, and the castle's designer clearly understood this well, planting a row of deciduous trees along the castle's edge.

[Trivia: Deciduous trees are trees that shed their leaves each year in the autumn!]

The lawn remains as green as an antique jade, but the leaves of the trees have already turned yellow, with a backdrop of maple forests ablaze in crimson.

The sunlight is warm, the fallen leaves crunch under my feet, and I can't help but take a deep breath.

MC: Mmm... It's the scent of autumn!

Lucien chuckles softly and, imitating me, takes a gentle breath of the autumn air.

Lucien: [chuckles] The air is so fresh. It must have rained last night; I can smell the petrichor.

MC: Hearing you say that, it feels like even the air today is a fresh gift for you~

I reach out and catch a falling leaf carried by the autumn breeze, gently placing it in Lucien's hand.

MC: Lucien, I want to give you a gift of autumn!

Lucien: A gift of autumn?

Lucien takes the leaf with a slightly puzzled look. I swing his hand gently and give him a wink.

MC: Consider this leaf a humble offering to spark something greater.

MC: I want to use these fallen leaves, flowers, and fruits to make an autumn basket, offering a small gift to today's birthday boy using nature's bounty.

Lucien gently nods in understanding, the curve of his lips remaining unchanged.

Lucien: Even though you're preparing a gift for me, the birthday boy himself is eager to join in too.

Lucien: Or is it that my little lady will only allow me to stand back and do nothing?

As he leans in slightly, his tone carries a hint of seriousness, and his fingertips lightly brush against my palm.

Sunlight sprinkles across his face, and his smiling eyes, framed by the interplay of light and shadow, appear even deeper, revealing a gentle slyness.

MC: Of course I need Professor Lucien's help, but when it comes to the final weaving stage, the birthday boy can't peek~

Lucien: No problem, I will be an honest collaborator.

The autumn wind lifts his hair, creating gentle curves as it sweeps through the strands. I gather his fingers in mine and we step onto the forest path by the castle.

MC: Let's go then, we still need a lot of materials~

In the maple forest during late autumn, fruit trees laden with fruit hide amongst the low bushes, while vibrant beeches with flourishing branches and leaves stand beside the tall oaks.

Purple crocuses peek their delicate buds from the grass, while after the rain, strange fungi unfurl their caps and release spores.

It's like stumbling into an autumn oil painting with bold colors and thick brushstrokes, every glance reveals a colorful and magnificent scenery.

When Lucien picks up a plump acorn, a red squirrel with a fluffy tail scurries out and squeaks at him.

MC: Wow, such a daring little squirrel!

Lucien and I are both taken aback for a moment; this little fellow seems completely unafraid of us.

MC: Is it greeting us, or is it trying to steal the fruit we've picked up?

Lucien seems to already have a way to handle this, a hint of cunningness flashing in his eyes.

He takes a pine cone in his hand and gently dangles it in front of the little squirrel's tail.

Lucien: [chuckles] Little guy, do you want this?

The greedy little squirrel's eyes instantly fixate on the new pine cone, completely captivated by his movement, and it scurries forward a few steps.

It stuffs the pine cone from Lucien's hand into its mouth in one gulp, then hops away with its cheeks puffed out.

Lucien: [chuckles] This maple forest is their world. That pine cone, well, let's just consider it an ‘entry fee'.

Lucien raises his hand again, and when he opens his palm before me, there they are��several even plumper and cuter acorns.

MC: Hold on, turns out you've been secretly keeping all these 'hidden treasures' to yourself!

Lucien: [in an ‘innocent’ tone] After all, my little lady needs these acorns, so I had to find a way to evade those sharp-eared and keen-eyed little fellows.

Though he says this, Lucien shows a relaxed expression, looking like a little fox pretending to be innocent.

The thought of the Great Professor Lucien actually ‘tricking’ a squirrel makes me burst out laughing. I grab his hand and pull him along as I run in the other direction.

MC: Hahaha, Professor Lucien, quick, run with me! Be careful, the little squirrel might go find the squirrel police and report us!

I hold hands with Lucien as we walk through the woods. The surrounding scenery is vibrant with colors, creating the impression of a flowing oil painting.

The air around the sweet osmanthus trees is filled with a sweet fragrance like cotton candy, while black walnuts and red oak acorns roll on the ground.

My pockets are loaded with autumn's ‘spoils’ which keep spilling out as I run, as if they are merging with the forest's hidden mysteries.

Despite these minor incidents, we still manage to gather a basketful of autumn's gifts.

✂———————–

Back indoors, I carry my blessings for Lucien and patiently weave them together.

Leaves and fruits gradually take shape in my hands, carrying small heartfelt wishes, preserving the warmth and liveliness of autumn.

And then, I find Lucien by the window.

He seems to have just come inside, a hint of coldness still clinging to him, but when he turns and looks back at me, a gentle smile quickly spreads across his face.

I smile and lift the basket of fruits and flowers with both hands as if I'm holding all the beauty of autumn.

MC: This castle’s most beautiful autumn is all right here! Here, it's all yours—

MC: I hope every day of your future can be as complete, fulfilling, and beautiful as this~

Lucien's eyes curve into a smile as he takes the basket.  Suddenly, I feel a touch of moist coolness against my ear.

Through the glass window, I see him quietly tuck a vibrant Cleome flower into my hair.

Lucien: Thank you, I really like these autumn gifts.

Lucien: But for me, the most beautiful part of autumn is right here before my eyes.

Lucien: She blooms year after year, staying by my side, and leaving me utterly captivated*.

✂———————–

[T/N]

I think the Cleome Spinosa flower, also known as 醉蝶花 ("intoxicated butterfly") carries symbolic meaning. When Lucien gives her this particular flower, it reflects his emotions about her. The final line (她年复一年地盛开,陪在我的身边,令我沉醉其中 — literally translated as "She blooms year after year, staying by my side, and leaving me intoxicated") directly connects to the "intoxicating" (醉) in the flower's name with the word 沉醉 (immersed in a state of intoxication) in the last line, which combines 沉 (to sink or immerse) and 醉 (to be drunk or intoxicated).

沉醉 conveys the emotional nuances of being utterly captivated, deeply enchanted, and overwhelmed in a consuming, blissful way. This imagery mirrors the 'intoxicated butterfly' of the flower, as if he's the 'intoxicated butterfly', utterly captivated and completely consumed by her existence.

✂———————–

=[Part 3]=

It's past dusk, and the sunlight is as golden and radiant as freshly harvested honey. Outside the window, a vast expanse of red maple trees sways in harmony with the evening breeze, whispering a soft melody. Leaves flutter and dance their way into the room every now and then.

I rub my arms, for even this gentle and beautiful scenery can’t stop the temperature from dropping as night falls.

MC: Uh... It feels even colder than it did this morning.

Just then, the sound of rolling wheels comes from behind me. Lucien approaches, pushing a small wooden cart, a plush shawl in his hand.

Lucien: I found a pretty good way to warm up, want to give it a try?

He gently wraps a shawl around me, and I comfortably nuzzle against his warm and cozy neck.

MC: I'm all ears to hear the esteemed opinions of the castle's owner!

Lucien smiles mysteriously, holds my hand, and pushes the cart as we walk together to a door leading underground.

MC: This is... a wine cellar?

Lucien: I think it would be more ceremonial if we chose the wine list ourselves tonight.

He lights the two oil lamps that were prepared in advance. Each of us carries one, and we slowly move forward through the rich aroma of oak barrels.

According to the butler, the wine cellar was recently ventilated.  

Yet, perhaps the overwhelming aroma of wine saturates the air, walking inside makes me feel a bit stifled. I even feel slightly intoxicated just from the scent, before even having a sip.

Besides me, only Lucien still carries the fresh and crisp scent of grass and trees from when we were gathering fruits and fallen leaves.

It feels like he is the only antidote in this dim room filled with the floating aroma of wine.

Red maple leaves, the wine cellar, the wine itself… memories from the past seem to overlap at this moment.

Suddenly, I recall the winery we visited long ago.

The memory of the autumn stained red by the maple leaves has brought with it the restlessness and infatuation of the past, spilling out from the bottom of my heart without any reason...

It's as if my lips still retain the feeling of his touch when he wiped away the wine stain for me, making my heartbeat inexplicably quicken. Just then, I catch sight of Lucien gently placing a bottle of wine into the cart.

MC: Professor Lucien, what kind of wine did you choose?

Lucien: Riesling white wine.

Lucien turns the bottle around to show me.

Lucien: When I got the cart, the butler knew I was going to the wine cellar and recommended this castle's specialty to me.

Lucien: And you?

I suppress the excitement in my heart and wink at him mysteriously.

MC: Hmph, you'll find out soon enough.

The light and soft aroma of white wine fills the air, and even the candles on the wall seem intoxicated by the wine's fragrance, their flames gently flickering.  

Under the twilight dome of the sky, the shadows of the wine rack and stone walls sway gracefully in the flickering firelight.  

Lucien and I sit at a small table nearby, two crystal-clear glasses already filled with wine, exuding a faintly tipsy aura.  

After two glasses of Riesling, I feel warmth spreading through my body and let out a satisfied sigh.

MC: Ahh, so comfortable... I don't feel cold at all anymore~ As expected of the wine Professor Lucien chose.

Lucien: [chuckles] Would you like some more?

I smile and shake my head, winking at him mysteriously.

MC: First, let's try the wine I picked~

I open the bottle of wine I selected and pour a glass for Lucien, sneaking a glance at his face from the corner of my eye.  

The candlelight cast a soft filter over him, concealing his keen and contemplative eyes, which revealed a soft glow under the haze of the wine.

He parts his pale lips, gently swallows the wine, and seems to be momentarily dazed.

MC: How is it?

I can barely contain my anticipation as I watch his brow smooth slightly, relaxing further after taking in the wine.

Confusion and surprise flit through his gentle eyes, before swiftly transforming into a clear understanding.

Lucien:  ...This flavor is very unique, and yet also very familiar.

Lucien: It's sweet and tender, yet with a touch of bitterness and complexity*.

[Notes from Lux: He copied her remark from back then, word by word :”””. 纠结 is a tricky word to translate because it literally means “intertwined”/”tangled”. But figuratively, it implies a kind of intertwined, tangled feeling, commonly describing a state of emotional or mental conflict, where someone feels torn between different choices or is experiencing confusion and hesitation (a.k.a the state of the earlier stage of their relationship-). I went with ‘complexity’ to capture some nuances, but it might not capture this ‘entangling’ feeling.]

The complex yet familiar remark sends a rush of emotions through me. Just as I’m thinking about what to say, Lucien smiles.

Lucien: But when I savor it again, I feel a warmth, like that of sunshine and rain—a delicate, pleasant warmth.

The familiar words stir a trace of emotion in my heart, and in a daze, it feels as if the autumn equinox of that year has arrived at this very moment.

He still remembers—this is the same bottle of wine I tasted back when we were just getting to know each other, during our visit to Eileen's winery for an interview.

My fingertips unconsciously rub against the bottle, and my thoughts follow my gaze to the red maple trees bathed in the evening glow.

Back then, it was also the season when the maples were crimson and the flowers were in full bloom...

A maple leaf, as if on cue, is swayed by the evening breeze and drifts toward me. I instinctively reach out, and the leaf gently lands in my palm.

It feels as though the early days of tentative exploration and the subtle sweetness of that time have traveled with the falling leaf, arriving here in this foreign land at this moment.

Lucien: I remember, on the way to the winery, I mentioned Maple Road. We ended up going there together.

Lucien: On Maple Road, we read a poetry collection together and visited a maple sugar shack.

Lucien: Later, I drew a picture of you collecting maple leaves. That drawing even ended up in an exhibition...

The rippling light of the wine in the crystal glass reflects on him, even his gaze holds tender memories.

Lucien speaks calmly, his memories unfolding like a heavy book, slowly opening before me with the sound of his voice.

The bond beneath the red maple tree and the feelings growing in the vineyard, word by word, moment by moment, intertwine and become etched into our story-

Only those who created it together can turn its pages and retrieve each other's anchors from the endless flow of time.

My heart is stirred, subtly and uncontrollably. I can't help but rush into Lucien's arms, hugging him tightly.

MC: I remember too.

MC: Not just these things you've mentioned... everything about you, I remember it all.

MC: So after today, Professor Lucien should also update this birthday into all our autumn memories.

His chest pressed close to me, trembles slightly. A warm, gentle kiss falls on my forehead, soft and cherishing.

Lucien: Such beautiful memories, I don't seem to have any reason to let them fade away.

I lift my face joyfully and gently kiss his chin.  

We have already experienced countless stories through many autumns and celebrated each of his birthdays.

And I also want to write down promises with him for each and every autumn in the future, continuing on for a very, very long time.

MC: Then it's a promise!

Lucien smiles faintly and lifts me up with one hand, his gentle gaze meeting mine at eye level.

Lucien: [chuckles] However, if I want to make the anchor of this ‘memory’ even more profound, I still need to gather a bit of inspiration…

The remaining of his words are lost into our mingling breaths, replaced by a crisp kiss tinged with the scent of wine.

This kiss is gentle and intoxicating, leaving me somewhat tipsy, though not from the effects of alcohol.

Perhaps it's because the youthful and inexperienced flavor of that past has long since mixed with the passionate love that has matured over time…

Blending and growing, pulling me deeply into it.

✂———————–

=[Part 4]=

The twilight gradually fades into the night, and the bright moon quietly hangs in the autumn night, illuminating the still dazzling and fiery red maple leaves.

Lucien and I are still sitting at the table, enjoying the tranquility, when a sudden coldness brushes against my cheek.

I raise my head and realize, without noticing it, that snowflakes have already begun drifting down from the sky. Just then, I hear Lucien's smiling voice beside me.

Lucien: It seems that today's ‘gifts’ are not over yet.

MC: After all, today is your birthday—the whole world will be sending you blessings~

Our gazes meet, and with a tacit understanding, we both set down our glasses and take each other's hands.

Lucien: Then, can I invite my ‘world’ to go out with me and experience this beauty together?

In the courtyard, rustling red maples intertwine with falling snowflakes, as if autumn and winter themselves are completing their handover at this very moment.

We get an umbrella from the butler and hold hands as we follow the stone path down the hill from the old castle.

The moonlight on a snowy night grows brighter as we walk side by side to the small town at the foot of the hill, where the houses and streetlights are all covered in a delicate layer of snowflakes.

On the streets of the small town, many people, like Lucien and I, stroll under the moonlight, accompanied by the backdrop of the first snowfall, tacitly enjoying this tranquil night.

I turn my head to look at Lucien and find him reaching out his hand, gently catching a falling snowflake.

His eyes curve faintly, as if harboring some kind of quiet longing, even carrying a touch of rare childlike innocence.

MC: [smiles softly] Why does it feel like Professor Lucien has a special fondness for this snow?

My tone holds a hint of curiosity, wanting to capture this rare glimpse of his innocence. Lucien smiles and begins to speak softly.

Lucien: [softly, like recalling a cherished memory] Just remembered a movie I watched when I was little. I remember... it was about an inventor who lived in a castle.

Lucien: After watching it as a child, there was a time when I also wanted to be an inventor with a castle.

My eyes widen in a bit of surprise.

MC: [pouts] I can understand wanting to be an inventor, but why did it have to be one who lives in a castle…

MC: Professor Lucien, could it be that you're teasing me on purpose just because we came to a castle this year?

Lucien: [chuckles] Of course not. But if this story will make this little lady happy, I’d be more than willing to tell it to you.

MC: I want to hear it, I want to hear it!

I enthusiastically put on an attentive look, Lucien smiles as he begins to speak.

Lucien: Actually, the reason for wanting to own a castle is quite simple.

Lucien: Because that way, just like the main character in the movie, I could have a space of my own to carry out those daring and even dangerous experiments.

Lucien: And my parents could also accompany me in the castle, pursuing the research they are deeply passionate about.

Lucien: That way, they wouldn’t have to be 'trapped' in the lab all the time.

Lucien speaks naturally, his voice imbued with a soft smile, yet it's as if a tiny window is being opened.

Through that window, I seem to see a little Lucien, his eyes sparkling with fascination as he watches the movie, his heart filled with simple and pure longing.

My heart suddenly softens, and I can’t help but smile tenderly as I start to speak.

MC: The dream of becoming an inventor could now be considered halfway realized~

MC: After all, Professor Lucien is a great scientist walking at the forefront of humanity—it’s perhaps even more remarkable than that!

MC: As for the castle... you've been the ‘owner of the castle’ for a day today, does that count?

Lucien: [chuckles] Of course it counts. And now, there’s even the first snowfall.

He takes my slightly cold hand and slips it in his pocket, softly rubbing it.

Lucien: I can no longer recall the plot of that movie very well. But I do remember that on the day we watched it, it also snowed in Loveland City.

Lucien: That day, they finished work early and brought home the videotape of that movie.

Lucien: The movie ended with the town welcoming its first snowfall, and we also stepped outside together to enjoy the snowy world.

He speaks vaguely, but I understand everything.

His low voice feels especially serene on this snowy night, yet as he speaks, another scene unfolds before my eyes.

When his room flooded before, he tidied up those old videotapes and set them aside, placing them carefully in a separate spot.

Is this old movie among those tapes?

As he put away the videotapes, did he recall that ancient castle and that warm snowfall?

I don’t know the answer, but I can feel that those fleeting, rarely mentioned fragments of his past were once so distant and cold.

But now, those precious fragments have thawed like melting ice and snow, filled with nostalgia and warmth as they slowly flow.

I instinctively tighten my hold on his hand.

The first snowfall is falling thicker and thicker, yet it isn't biting cold. Snowflakes gently drift past the edge of the umbrella, landing on the tips of my hair and forehead, as well as Lucien's.

It's as if this world is bestowing its blessings on Lucien in the most gentle way.

MC: Even though it's many years late, it seems that we've now made little Lucien's childhood dream come true.

With a chuckle, Lucien's low voice reaches me through the wind and snow.

Lucien: [chuckles] Indeed, so I was quite surprised, but also delightfully so.

Lucien: However, if it weren’t for this twist of fate, perhaps I wouldn’t have thought of this idea again for a very, very long time.

Lucien: [softly] Because I've long had something far more important.

Lucien: To me, those forgotten thoughts are more like a bottle of wine hidden in a cellar.

MC: Wine?

Lucien: Mm, just like the wine we’re drinking today.

Lucien: Grapes can never return to their original form, but time makes them richer and more mellow, and they will always meet someone who knows how to cherish them.

Lucien: She will give me a castle, stay in bed with me, treasure an entire autumn with me... and walk with me through quiet streets on snowy nights.

A snowflake quietly lands on his eyelashes and melts a moment later. It’s as if the melted droplets seep into my heart, creating ripples of sweet warmth.

I can't help but speak softly, offering all my blessings to my beloved standing before me under the moonlight of this snowy night.

MC: Happy birthday, Lucien.

May each and every year of your future be surrounded with love as you move forward.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*FIN*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

[Bonus Phone call]

Lucien: I received the email you sent. Looks like it has some intel about a birthday.

MC: Yes! It's a text-based open-source game I found online. I modified it a bit~

MC: You can start from age 0 and randomly generate the 'life' of a little Lucien!

Lucien: Mm, just now, I've already completed two endings.

Lucien: The first time, little Lucien was accidentally captured by an alien spacecraft at the age of three and left Earth forever.

Lucien: The second time, little Lucien received a mysterious admission letter at the age of sixteen. No one knows where he went.

[Aren't these just a reflection of his past??? from being kidnapped by BS to mysteriously disappearing hhhhh]

MC: Haha, is the game’s random value design too harsh? Maybe I should tweak it a bit...

Lucien: No need, I really like this level of difficulty. It’s precisely this randomness that makes it so interesting to me.

Lucien: I’ve just started my third playthrough. This time, I’ve decided to reallocate some of the 15 points I gave to intelligence and assign some to luck.

[Not this basically saying that his genius may be the reason for his unluckiness in life :""". His 'luck' in life is that he's able to met her]

MC: So Professor Lucien had been putting all the points into one stat before! No wonder you kept having such over-the-top mysterious experiences...

Lucien: I just subconsciously wanted to test the limits of this little game, and unexpectedly made real discoveries.

Lucien: Although these endings greatly increased the game's replayability, this time, I want to make the game last a bit longer.

Lucien: That way, perhaps I can meet you in the game as well.

MC: Hehe, you can look forward to it!

MC: So, how's it going? What age did you reach in your third playthrough?

Lucien: …Hmm, I've already invented the elixir of immortality and reached the age of two hundred, but I still haven't encountered you.

Lucien: Am I on the right track?

MC: Pfft! I did set up an encounter, but I didn't set an age limit, thinking it would slightly increase replayability...

MC: I feel like I might have overdone it...

Lucien: It’s okay. In the game, little Lucien has already met you—at the age of five hundred.

Lucien: Then, on his birthday, we confessed to each other at the same time and spent a happy life together.

[Man so love-brained that he creates an immortality elixir and stubbornly waits a long time to finally meet her LOL. In this way, it can be said that his current life might be the 'luckiest' possibility because it allows him to meet her so soon]

MC: Hahaha, that's good, that's good... So, do you like this "life path" of becoming an inventor?

Lucien: I like it. I like everything and my destined encounter with you.

Lucien: I’ll be home soon, and when I get there, I’d like to invite you to explore all the other possibilities for little Lucien together—

Lucien: And explore every moment I spent with you on this birthday.

[indifferent-depravity]

CW: dub-con incest, age gap, minor mention of drug abuse and being high

Minors DNI 18+

A/N: happy birthday to me! hope y’all enjoy :)

~~~

You stuff your hand over your mouth, hot tears burning tracks down your cheeks as a strangled sob rips from your throat. Christmas dinner at the Berzatto’s has always been a stressful time but your mom is really on a warpath tonight, scrutinizing everything you do to try to help.

“Baby Bear? Where’d you disappear to?”

Your eyes fly open at Mikey’s gravelly voice just beyond the closed door of the pantry and you clear your throat, roughly scrubbing your sleeve over your eyes as you call out, “in here, Mikey!” The handle rattles as he pulls the door open and you shoot him a weak half-smile, stretching up to reach a box of crackers on the top shelf. “Mama wanted me to get some crackers for Tiff.” Mikey cocks an eyebrow at your weak excuse, easily reaching up to grab the box for you.

“I don’t think grabbing some fuckin’ crackers takes ten minutes, what’s really going on?” His voice is soft as he hands you the box and your face falls at the question, fresh tears burning your eyes. He sighs and pulls you against his chest, trapping your arms between your bodies.

“I can’t do anything right, Bear. Mama- she just keeps screaming at me and it-it feels like everyone else doesn’t want me here.” You sob, the cardboard box collapsing underneath your tightening grip.

Mikey rests his cheek on the top of your head, running a soothing hand down your back, “Now you know that ain’t true, baby, you’re such a good girl all the time, it'd be a crime not to want to be around you.” You let out a quiet hiccuping laugh and his lips curl into a smile, turning his head to press a kiss to your hair.

You pull your face away from his chest to wipe your eyes and he grins, cupping your cheek to pull your forehead against his. “There’s my girl.” He says quietly with a grin, “don’t let mom ruin Christmas for you, yeah? Keep being good and once everyone’s gone, I’ll give you your present.”

You let your eyes flutter shut, a small smile sneaking onto your face. “Okay, I promise.” You grin at him, “do I get a hint on what you got me?”

Mikey laughs and pecks your cheek, brushing his lips over the corner of your mouth, “Cheeky girl, where’s the fun if you’re not surprised, huh?” You giggle and wind your arms around his waist, squeezing him tightly.

“Never hurts to ask, right?” You tease, eyes sliding shut as you linger in his warm embrace, “Thank you, Bear.”

He hums, bending down to press a kiss to the top of your head, “It’s nothin’, Baby Bear, I’m always gonna be here for you.”

More tears threaten to spill and you squeeze your eyes shut, taking in a deep breath to let the smell of his cologne calm you before stepping away. “I should really get these to Tiff.” You say, shaking the half crushed box, “you promise they don’t hate me?”

“If they do, they’ll answer to me, yeah? Don’t let them get in that pretty head of yours.” Mikey shares a reassuring smile with you, dropping down to kiss your head one last time before heading back to the gathering. You press your lips together as he returns to being his boisterous self, loud voice spilling through the rest of the house.

After dropping off the crackers with Tiffany and fussing over her when another wave of nausea ran through her, you drag your feet back to the living room, loitering in the doorway as your heart pounds at the constant chatter between guests.

You force a smile when Mikey notices you, curling in on yourself as he gestures you over to him. Without a stutter in his words he wraps an arm around your waist and guides you onto his lap, smoothing a reassuring hand down your back as he talks. You curl into him, tucking your face into his neck to hide from the eyes of everyone, perfectly content to just listen as Mikey commands the room.

“And I thought incest was a southern thing! Who’d have thought we’d see it from my own son and daughter!”

Mikey stiffens under you and your body burns with mortification, pulling away from your hiding place in Mikey’s neck to look at your mom, “Mama!”

“What?” She laughs, nearly choking on her last sip of wine, “I’m just saying what everyone else is thinking, Baby Bear, what kinda siblings sit like that?”

Mikey glares at Donna, opening his mouth to defend himself when you slide off his lap, curling in on yourself. He resigns to glaring at her and touches your back gently, leaning down to whisper, “Don’t listen to her, she’s just trying to start shit.” You just nod, shifting away from his touch as tears burn your eyes.

An awkward air fills the room as the conversation tries to move away from Donna’s outburst and you take your chance to slip away, busying yourself with readying the table for dinner. The heavy thud of boots makes you glance up, your stomach twisting at the sheepish look on Mikey’s face. “Baby Bear, you know I’d never-”

“So this is where you ran off to!”

A cold trickle runs down your spine as Lee wraps an arm low around your waist, fingers just barely brushing against your hip bone through your jeans. Lee shot Mikey a shit-eating glare and tugs you against his side, “what are you doing, hiding away in here with him?” He spits the last word like an insult and Mikey bares his teeth in a snarl, stepping forward to pull you away from him.

“I-I just wanted to make sure the table was set, I know Mama’s almost done cooking.” You answer nervously, eyes flickering between the two men. “I should actually… see if she needs help, please excuse me.” You extract yourself from Lee’s grasp, shuddering as his hand glides over the globe of your ass. You hurry to the kitchen, plastering a smile on your face as Donna turns to you with a dish full of food.

“Put this down and go tell everyone it’s time to eat. Go, hurry!”

You nod frantically and carefully balance the hot dish as you move as quickly as you dart back into the dining room, barely sparing a glance at the two men still locked in a standoff before dipping your head into the living room to call out, “foods up!”

You go back to the kitchen to help your mom and by the time you get into the dining room with the final platter, the only seat available is between Mikey and Lee. You take a deep breath, slowly letting it out as you move to sit down. You stiffen in your seat as Lee’s hand drops to your lap to squeeze your knee. Mikey lets out a deep growl and glares at Lee, reaching over to force his hand off your leg, “how about you keep your fucking hands to yourself, huh?”

Lee laughs, “Yeah like you could follow that rule! You think I don’t know what you and Baby Bear have been up to? Maybe if you stopped dreaming about your dick in her mouth maybe tonight wouldn’t have been so stressful for your mom.”

Your eyes widen, nails digging into your palms as Mikey scoffs, slamming his hand against the table before pointing accusingly at Lee, “Don’t you dare say shit like that in front of her! You know damn well you could’ve gotten your head out of your ass and helped too!”

You gently touch Mikey’s arm, sharing a pleading look with him, “Hey. Just leave him, Bear, okay?” You shake your head as you speak softly, “This isn’t worth it, please.” His face softens and you give him a small smile.

“Don’t act like I didn’t catch you in her bedroom the other day! Your poor mother’s at her wit’s end because you’re just some sick junkie pervert that can’t keep his hands off his own sister!” Lee yells, “How long has it been going on, huh? Did you get addicted to the pills first or was the guilt of fucking your little sister too much to handle sober?”

The room falls silent, everyone exchanging silent glances, trying to decide who to believe. No one could believe Mikey would ever hurt you but… the Mikey they saw in front of them, the one high on pills, who knows what he could do. You stand abruptly, knocking your chair over as you look around the room for a moment, almost pleading with them to come to your defense. Tears of humiliation burn your eyes as you rush from the room, finding solace in your bedroom as the first sob rips from your chest.

You’re curled up on your bed when someone knocks lightly on your door. Sniffling, you sit up, calling out for them to open the door. Michelle pokes her head in and you manage a small smile, wiping your face with your sleeve, “What a shitshow, huh? Sorry for just running out like that.” Your voice cracks and she shoots you a sad smile, moving to sit next to you.

“None of that was your fault, honey. What they were saying about you and Mikey, I…” She trails off into a deep breath, “I was talking to Carmy earlier and I invited him to come stay in New York with me for a couple weeks.”

You nod, picking at your nails, “He’d love that, I know things have been stressful for him recently.”

“For you, too.” You look up at her questioningly and she sighs, turning to face you, “Baby Bear, I think you should come with us.” She begins, placing her hand on your knee, “with everything going on, I think you need some space from M- from everything… you could spend some time with Carmy and maybe find a good school to go to out there.”

You press your lips together in a firm line to stop them from wobbling as a fresh wave of tears builds in your eyes, “from Mikey, you mean? You want me to just leave Mikey like that?” A look of betrayal washes over your face, “who would he have if I’m gone? No. No, I can't go with you.” You finish with a shake of your head, pushing her hand off your leg.

“Honey, don’t say no yet, okay? I’m not leaving until next week, you’ve got time.” Desperation laces her voice as she stands up from your bed. “Just… think about it?” You turn your head to avoid her gaze and she sighs, lingering for a moment before leaving.

You take a shuddering breath and flop back down onto your bed, letting your comforter muffle your quiet sobs. Another knock causes you to jump, scrubbing your eyes furiously to hide the evidence as you croak, “D-doors open!” You steel yourself for more nosy relatives, pressing your lips together as you will back your tears.

“Baby Bear?”

Your facade breaks when Mikey’s face comes into view and you jump off your bed to crush him into a hug. “I’m sorry for leaving you down there alone I just- I just couldn’t-'' Your voice cracks as the words of your Uncle Lee replay in your mind, pressing your face hard against his chest “You’re not what he says! You’re my big brother, you'd never hurt me, why can’t people see that!”

His laugh vibrates through your body as his arms come up to wrap around your shoulders, “People see what they wanna see, Baby Bear, you know that.” His voice is laced with hurt and you look up at him, heart twisting painfully at the defeated look on his face.

You tighten your arms around him, “Well they’re wrong, you’re the only one that really cares ‘bout me.”

Your words bring a smile to his face and he leans down to kiss your forehead, “I’ll always care about you, you’re my baby bear.”

“Come cuddle with me,” You demand and tug at him, sending him stumbling against you as you walk backward toward your bed.

He lets out a shocked laugh, grabbing your shoulders to steady himself before he’s sent sprawling on top of you across the bed, “Careful, Baby Bear! Nearly made me crush you.”

A pout forms on your lips and you tug at him again, pulling him down nearly on top of you on the bed, “I’m not that fragile!”

Mikey snorts but lets you maneuver him to your liking before curling up against his chest. He grabs the hand you slung over his chest, pressing a gentle kiss to your fingers, “no, you’re not. You’re a big, strong bear like me, huh?”

You giggle and lace your fingers with his, marveling as his hand engulfs yours, “Yeah! That way we can take care of each other.”

“That’s right, baby.” He smiles and leans his head back against your pillows, running his thumb over your shoulder as a comfortable silence falls over the room. He looks out of place against the frills of your bedding, the same sheets you’ve had your whole childhood.

You trace invisible shapes into his chest, letting the slow movement of his breathing calm you. “Michelle came to talk to me after the fight.” You whisper, not wanting to disturb the peacefulness, “She wants me to go back to New York with her for a while. Says it would be good for me.”

“Oh yeah?”

You nod against his chest, “I don’t know… maybe it’s a good idea with everything that… that Mama is accusing you of.”

His breathing stutters and you look up at him questioningly. “You’d leave me, just like that?” He asks, speaking over you as you open your mouth to reply, “You’re all I got Baby Bear, if you leave there’d be nothing left for me here.”

Grief fills your face and you shake your head furiously, sitting up farther to pepper his face with kisses. “Don’t say things like that, Mikey! You’ll always have me, ‘m not going anywhere!” You exclaim, wrapping yourself around him in a tight hug.

Mikey nods and leans up to catch your lips with his, missing his mark and catching your cheek instead. His hands glide over your sides, gripping your waist tightly as he twists to pin you underneath his weight. “I love you, Baby Bear.” He whispers as he finally finds your mouth, forcing his tongue past your lips in a sloppy kiss. You gasp and grip his shirt, too shocked to respond as he kisses you slowly.

He’s breathing heavily when he pulls away, resting his forehead against yours. “M-Mikey, I think you need to go to your room.” You say hesitantly, pushing against his chest, “What if Mama catches us, you could go to jail.”

He shakes his head and dips down for another kiss, hand slipping down your body to grab a handful of your ass. A reluctant moan slips from your throat as he drags your core over his hardening bulge and he groans in response, grinding harder against you.

“You’re always so worried about everyone else, just think of us for once.” He murmurs, trailing hot kisses down your neck, “Everyone already thinks we’re having sex, why fight it?” You shake your head, letting out a gasp as he nibbles your pulse point. He dips his fingers between your thighs, humming quietly as he finds your panties soaked with your wetness.

You throw your head back with a whine as Mikey pushes his fingers past the barrier of your panties and sinks his fingers into your core. He slowly thrusts them into your cunt, groaning at each quiet whimper slipping past your lips. “M-Mikey stop! They’re going to hear us!”

He shakes his head, curling his against your sweet spot, “Don’t worry, Baby Bear, they’re too shit-faced to care what we’re up to.” Mikey presses his lips against yours as he coaxes a third finger into you, drinking in your moans. Your hips stutter, torn between arching towards the pleasure and away from it.

Mikey hums, other hand dropping down to free his cock from his jeans, “tha’s it baby, ready for my cock?” You shake your head, a gasp catching in your throat as he grinds his cock against the softness of your inner thigh. He curls his fingers inside your cunt, forcing a loud moan out of you and grins, “Yeah you are, don’t worry baby, I’ll make you feel good.”

He pulls his fingers out, chuckling softly at your whine, and blindly wraps his hand around his cock. You squirm underneath him, pressing your palms against his chest as he glides the tip through your folds, “I-I don’t think we should be doing thi-” you lose your words on a choked gasp as his cock sinks into your cunt.

Mikey lets out a shaky breath, resting his forehead against yours as he rolls his hips, slowly pushing deeper with each thrust, “been wanting this for so long, Baby Bear, feel so good around me.” He growls, gritting his teeth as he bottoms out inside you. Your breath comes out in short pants, cunt clenching around his thick length.

“Mikey…” You whine as he grinds against you, a hot shock of pleasure jolting through your spine, “We should s-stop.” He shakes his head, forcing his mouth over yours in a heated kiss. His hands grip your thighs, using the leverage to drive his hips harder into you. The room fills with quiet squeaking, your bed frame thunking gently against the wall with each thrust.

You throw your head back against your pillows with a loud moan as his cock angles perfectly against your sweet spot. Mikey slaps his hand over your mouth and shushes you, leaning close to your ear. “Y’need to stay quiet, princess, want Ma to hear? Or Uncle Lee? I saw how he was touchin’ you tonight, I think he’d try to join. Don’t want that, do you?”

You shake your head frantically, biting down hard on your lip as another moan bubbles from your chest. Mikey gives you a mock pout, thrusts speeding up as he murmurs, “I know, I know Baby Bear, it feels too good, huh? Love your big brother's cock in your little pussy.” Mikey loses his rhythm as he looks down at you, nearly angelic with your eyes half-lidded with pleasure, your hair sprawled across the princess pink of your pillows like a halo.

Mikey grinds his fingers against your clit and the taste of blood fills your mouth as your teeth break through the skin of your lip in your attempt to stifle your noises. You clench around him as his fingers push you closer to the edge and he grins, thrusting harder into you. “I can feel how close you are, Baby Bear. C’mon, you can let go.” His fingers move against you faster and your body arches against him, muscles tightening as you teeter on the edge. “Yeah jus’ like that, cum on your brother’s cock.”

Tears burn your eyes as your orgasm rips through you, shaking beneath him as overwhelming pleasure frays your nerves. Mikey lets out a choked grunt, hands moving to pull your hips flush against his as you clench around him, drawing his orgasm from him.

Mikey carefully shifts onto his side, his frame dwarfing the small bed as he pulls you tightly against his chest to keep you from falling off. He presses a gentle kiss to your lips, mouth curving into a smile as you kiss back. “Merry Christmas, Baby Bear.”

[ultfreakme]

natla naysayers have used the term "feminine rage" so much that I just really wanna know what people think 'feminine rage' means? Because Katara is angry here.

In NATLA she yells at Sokka for acting like he's her dad, telling him off when he dismisses her for following Jet and him ignoring her warnings about the mechanist, then again when she freezes Jet and walks away, and then when she talked to Pakku, then when she talked to Aang and he told her she shouldn't fight, then later with Zuko in the spirit oasis. She was angry. Not as much as the original, but she isn't the flat board people think she is here?

She was not confident at the start because the draw a direction connection between her bending and her personality. As she grows more confident and learns more moves, she comes out of her shell.

Sokka stifles her, but this time because he thinks waterbending will somehow get the Fire Nation to their shores and the search for a waterbender is what killed Kya. Katara has trauma surrounding waterbending put on her by colonial forces. It's in-text, Katara needs to embrace her culture, and the good parts of her mother's life and celebrate the memory of Kya. Waterbending is like a million different things to her now; her culture, honoring her mom, being herself, fighting against the FN by simply bending, it doesn't even have to attack a person. Her bending at all is shown as something important.

And at the end she DOES. And she's confident and centered and smug about her powers. It's not the same arc and it could have been better written, but they're building up to why Katara acts the way she does the same way they did with Azula. One's a modification, the other's an addition.

It kinda sucks when people dismiss Katara's new arc because it's genuinely good. Bending is culture, the Fire Nation made her and the southern water tribe so afraid of what they are that they have to hide it and hate it but she grows throughout the show to go "fuck you" to the Fire Nation and everyone else and bends. That's a personal journey right there. In the OG Sokka didn't want her bending because he just thinks all benders are a problem. It's such an important commentary on colonialism! They take away your culture, bastardize it, to strip you away of your identity. They teach you different languages and say your gods and beliefs are evil and bring trouble. Sokka think waterbending, just Katara daring to even try it would mean the Fire Nation will come. They made the SWT afraid of their own culture and made it so that Sokka now thinks "surviving is enough" and Katara- her hope, and her embracing bending- is what shows that people should strive for more.

Like istg if you stop looking at what's gone and see what's there on the show, you'll find the new stuff.

[ripcupid]

Atta Girl

୨୧ word count: 2k ୨୧ Joel Miller x fem! reader ୨୧ haven't written for a male character or a different fandom in a while.

Joel sits watching you from the bar with a wry smile and a glass of whiskey in hand. He stares at you flinging around on a mechanical bull as you laugh and try to stay atop it. As he takes a sip of his drink, his smirk seems to grow wider with each passing second. His eyes dance with amusement and admiration, as you cling to the bull and ride it like a champion.

You look up and catch his gaze, and he gives you a small nod of approval before you get flung in a different direction. He can’t help but laugh along with you, as he watches you enjoying yourself.

You land on the mat and come to a stop, breathing heavily from the thrill and adrenaline. As you gather yourself, you can feel the other patrons of the rodeo watching with awe and admiration. You walk off the mat, making your way to Joel who is standing there with a wide grin on his face, laughing and applauding you for your amazing performance.

"That was… impressive." Joel congratulates you, wrapping his arm around your waist and giving you a tight squeeze and a kiss on the cheek. You blush and smile back at him, your brain dazed from the adrenaline and alcohol. You giggle, snatching Joel's cowboy hat from his head.

You playfully place the hat on your head, tipping it to the side. "Why thank you." You tease with an exaggerated southern accent as you bow graciously.

He laughs and replies, “It looks good on you.” Joel quickly grabs your hand, pulls you close, and gives you another kiss. “It’s getting late. We should probably go.”

“But it’s fun; I’m having fun.” You groan dramatically, dropping your body weight in his arms and he tightens his embrace, just to make sure you don’t fall. The hat slips from your head.

“Baby, I think you’re having too much fun.” Joel grabs your jaw in his hand, giving you a quick kiss to silence your groans. “Pick up my hat please.” He mutters against your lips. You pick up his hat, placing it back on your head as he releases your jaw, a small smile playing on his lips. He gives a smile for your compliance as his fingers lace through yours, taking your hand in his and leading you out of the bar.

Joel watches you undress while he takes off his shoes, his eyes never leaving your body as you move. You can feel his eyes on you but you don’t bother turning around. “Can I wear this shirt?” You ask, holding up one of his button-up shirts.

“Of course baby.” He sits back continuing to watch you move about. You can feel him watching as you slip it on and button it up, enjoying the feeling of being wrapped up in his scent.

You finish changing, looking behind you at Joel. He stares back at you with a smile. You stand in front of him, his hands instinctively hold your hips. “You looked really good tonight." Joel complimented.

“You too, like a cowboy with your little hat.” You joke making Joel let out a breathy laugh. You lay down, placing your feet in his lap. “My cowboy though.”

“And you’re my cowgirl.” Joel teases, his hands massaging your calf making you let out a soft moan. You relax into his touch, closing your eyes. He chuckles at your reaction.

“Don’t laugh, you’re good at that.” You open your eyes, a smile playing at the corner of your lips.

“Yeah?” He questions, bringing his hands up your leg as his fingers trail up your leg to your inner thigh, caressing it so softly as you part your legs to allow him better access. You nod in response, feeling your skin heat up under his touch. His eyes twinkle in amusement as you respond, your breath becoming ragged as he moves his hand higher up your thigh.

He whispers softly, asking you if he should continue, and you nod again, unable to find the words to express yourself. His hand moves further up your thigh, sending sparks of pleasure coursing through your veins as he caresses you. You feel his fingertips brush gently against your cunt, eliciting a sigh from you. His lips curl into a grin as he moves to lean over you, putting the leg in between yours so you can't close them.

He kisses your neck, his hands taking a firm grasp of your thighs as he moves his fingers closer to your clit. You gasp as his fingers brush against it, sending a wave of pleasure throughout your body.

"You're so sensitive." He whispers softly. His breath is hot against your ear, and his fingers tease, lightly grazing against your clit, over and over until you can’t help but moan in pleasure. Your back arches in pleasure, and you moan softly. You reach down for his wrist, but his words stop you.

His voice is husky and low as he whispers, "No touching; Let me make you cum." His voice excites you even more, and his fingers continue their teasing. He moves his hand faster, circling and pressing your clit until it is almost too sensitive to bear. He pulls your underwear to the side, spreading your arousal over your clit and you can feel your body trembling. You moan as he slides one finger inside you, and your entire body quivers with pleasure. "You want more, baby?" He looks at you with a smirk, and you can only nod in response, wanting it all and more.

His hand remains still as he slides in a second finger and begins to massage your inner walls. His thumb begins to circle your clit, each touch making you yearn for more and more of his touch. Your hips began to arch into him as he increased the pressure and pace of his movements, his fingers thrusting in and out of you, sending wave after wave of pleasure through you.

Your breathing quickens, and his smirk grows wider, the look of satisfaction written all over his face. His lips meet yours in a passionate embrace as his fingers move faster and faster. He grins in delight as his thumb continues to circle your clit. You grab onto the sheet and push into him, feeling every nerve in your body ignite in pleasure. "I w-want more p-please." You whimper against his lips, begging for him to take you further, to give you more.

"Such a needy little thing." He growls against your neck as his lips trace a path to your ear, "But since you asked so nicely." He pulls out his fingers, brushing them against your lips. You whimper at the loss, pressing your thighs together to gain some friction again. You open your mouth eagerly, and he slides them inside, his mouth curving into a satisfied smirk as you moan in pleasure at the taste of yourself.

He slides them out slowly, savoring every moment and the expression of ecstasy on your face. He sits up, pushing your legs apart, and looks into your eyes.

"Please, Joel." He grins at your pleas, tracing your cunt with his fingers until you moan out for more.

"Gotta be specific, use your words." Joel's mouth curves into a wicked smirk as he hears your plea, and he teasingly runs his fingertips over the wetness between your legs.

You groan in frustration and desperation, aching for more of his touch. "I'll give you more of what you want, but only if you beg for it." His voice is low and sultry, full of promise. Joel's gaze burns into you, and he waits for your response.

"I-i want you inside, need to feel you." Joel's eyes light up, and a wicked smile spreads across his face. He reaches for his pants and starts to unbutton them, revealing his painfully hard dick already straining against the fabric of his boxers. You feel the familiar heat course through you and reach out to touch him but he slaps them away before you can do anything. "No touching."

He pulls out his dick, stroking it slowly as he watches you, and you see it get even harder as his desire builds. You want nothing more than to touch him, feel the heat emanating from his body, and experience the pleasure he is clearly feeling but you know you can't.

You can only watch as he pleasures himself in front of you, his breathing getting more and more labored with each stroke.

You can feel yourself growing more aroused with each movement of his hand, and you can feel the need building inside of you. You feel your clench around nothing when he slides the tip through your slit, and you can't help but let out a gasp. He pauses and looks up at you with a knowing smile, and you can't help but blush at his piercing gaze.

He pulls your hips closer, letting his dick glide along your cunt and teasing you. You desperately shake your head cause he's not giving you what you want and he knows that. Nonetheless, you still grind your hips against his length as you let out a whimper.

He finally gives into your begging and pushes his cock deep inside you, the feeling of fullness takes your breath away. He groans at the feeling of you contracting around him. His slow, steady thrusts make your head spin and you moan as you wrap your legs around his waist, your nails digging into the sheets. You tilt your head back and moan out his name as he thrusts harder, faster, and deeper. He reaches over you grabbing the headboard and his thrusts become more intense as he moves with a steady, rhythmic beat. You fist the sheets, the undeniable urge to touch him. Your eyes roll back into your head.

"You feel so good, baby." Joel grunts through his teeth.

Joel grabs your jaw and pulls your face close to his, kissing you passionately. You moan into his mouth.

You melt into the kiss, your body feeling lighter and lighter with each passing second. You pull away, both of you breathing heavily. He reaches his hand down for your clit and starts rubbing it gently in slow circles, sending jolts of pleasure through your body.

"W-wanna cum please Joel." You moan as Joel increases the pressure and rhythm of his hand, moving faster and faster.

"Cum for me, wanna feel you." His voice is low and demanding and his touch perfect, sending you spiraling over the edge. You find yourself reaching the edge and crying out in pleasure as waves of ecstasy flood your body.

His touch slows and he moves his hands up your body until he is holding you close to him, your heart racing and your breaths coming in short gasps. "Atta girl, that's it." His voice is soft and comforting, whispering words of love in your ear. He slows his finger down on your clit. leaning back to pull out of you with a deep, guttural moan you arch your back as the pleasure waves through your body.

You look up into his eyes, mesmerized by the intensity of his gaze, and he smiles before he dips his head and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. He continues to stroke his fingers around your clit, massaging you as he brings you closer and closer to a shuddering climax, chuckling as you whine with overstimulation.

He strokes himself bringing himself to the brink of an orgasm, and when he can take it no longer, he finally lets himself go, spilling himself onto your stomach as you cry out from overstimulation, completely sated by the pleasure he has just given you. You sigh happily when his thumbs stop. He rubs your hips affectionately, leaning over to give you a gentle kiss. "Let me clean you up." He rises and heads to the bathroom, quickly returning with a warm cloth and carefully wiping away anything.

He then sits back down and cradles you in his arms, holding you close while he tells you how much he loves you. You wrap your arms around him and bury your face in his shirt, feeling contentment wash over you. He brushes his thumb over the fabric of your (his) shirt resting his cheek on your head and whispers comforting words in your ear. You close your eyes and take in the warmth of his embrace.

[jewishregulus]

wait no i need to hear more about jewish regulus pleaseeee, enough with the catholic guilt

i think people always default to catholic imagery and aesthetics in media bc they think it is a safe religion to play with and or just view it as like a default option which really hurts my soul . this isn’t particularly regulus related but like jewish vampires jewish southern gothic etc etc all have such huge potential . and it feels really disingenuous everytime i read abt just how aesthetic and cool catholicism or whatever is …. i’m sorry but judaism has just as much media potential: people simply don’t care enough to represent us . this is why these violent delights (pauljulian book not the other one) will always win . i feel like many gay dark academia books fall back on like religious guilt (catholic edition) that it was such a refreshing read to see it not only explored w jewish people but patrilineal jewish people as well. truly my favorite book ever for this reason

focusing on regulus now : i view regulus as a very religious person : i think he has a positive relationship with religion and the concept that there is something out there that loves him no matter what: that the unconditional love he craves does exist , and he doesn’t need to do anything to work for it . i really think finds joy in more mystical elements of judaism as he grows , i think he’d wear a evil eye and a kabbalah bracelet and just genuinely feel at ease practicing jewish magic . i think his favorite holiday would be yom kippur bc of the sheer joy he feels being so connected to hashem. and being able to reflect and atone for what he is done and receive forgiveness would be very healing for him! i think religion is a main difference for sirius and regulus, as i hc sirius to not be religious, but their culture is connecting them. sirius may not be religious but he IS jewish, and their practices and beliefs still float through them. judaism is not just a religion but a family almost . i feel deeply connected to jewish strangers knowing we have this cultural connection. i think regulus would feel that way too!! plus i think the black family would be very ashamed of their identity, and attempt to hide it out of fear in a similar way wizards hide their identities bc they fear muggles. i think regulus learning to embrace his identity is very key to him healing from the black family. i think he can make some mean latkes and matzah ball soup and he doesn’t play around abt his bagels . i think he’s a gefilte fish liker!!!! sorry!! he’s on team applesauce on latkes and he thinks if you use sour cream you should die . sirius uses sour cream. he’s got a jewish american princess vibe . he’s my cousin i love him to death!! plus i think there is something to be said abt tattoos being normally frowned upon in jewish culture and regulus taking the dark mark . a sacrifice to his identity put upon him by his parents who already wish to hide and erase this part of their family out of shame and fear . (not saying his parents forced him to take the mark this is just not the post where i analyze regulus taking the mark and his parents role in it.)

ps. this is also why i hc regulus’ favorite color as purple, bc purple often symbolizes redemption/atonement in jewish culture !!

[magnolia-among-the-stars]

Thinking About Love [hangman PT. 6/?]

PART OF MY “WHATEVER THIS IS” SERIES WHICH CAN BE FOUND HERE

PAIRING: JAKE ‘HANGMAN’ SERESIN x Female Plus Size Bartender!Reader

NICKNAME: Sunshine

It goes without saying but I do not give permission for anyone to use my work or copy it somewhere else.

Want to be added to the tag list for this character, all stories or another character? let me know here :)

PLOT: Penny Benjamin's niece works at The Hard Deck, saving the money she earns to get out of the west coast and put herself through Graduate School. What happens when a pretty boy pilot ends up as her fake boyfriend?

PART ONE / PART TWO / PART THREE / PART FOUR / PART FIVE / PART SIX / PART SEVEN / PART EIGHT / PART NINE / PART TEN / PART ELEVEN / FINAL PART

You grumbled as you wrapped another strand of hair loosely over the large barrel of the curling iron, finishing up and flicking the off switch. Your dress is lacy, form fitting and white with a high collar matched the worn leather of your vibrant green riding boots. You tuck the costume cowboy hat over your hair lazily before touching up your lipstick.

It’s been a few nights since Jake was top of you, his strong body pressing yours into the soft plush material of your couch, but you still felt ever since inch of his weight. His large, strong hands roaming over the soft flesh of your hipbones and his fingertips twisting into your hair as he devoured you. You smooth your hands over yourself, hoping for a taste of his touch but nothing comes close to soothing the burning in beneath your skin.

The doorbell rings though and anticipation is gone as you rush quickly down the hallway to pull the door open. One look at him pulls every gasp of air from your lungs, eyes racking over his frame with a new found hunger. He’s dressed in all black, his button up matching his dark jeans and his heeled boots. His Stetson hangs low on his head over his eyes and a toothpick dangling from his smooth lips. His scruff is grown in more and he looks at you like you’re his prey for the night, his catch for the season.

It makes you wet.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” he’s embraced his southern accent for the evening, thickening it purposefully to a lower tone. It sends a shiver up your spine, “Aren’t you looking like you stepped out of my dreams.”

“Careful now cowboy,” you mused, stepping back to twirl, “Those are fighting words.” You can feel his eyes burning into the exposed flesh of your legs, the supple curve of your ass.

Jake steps into the house, his hands held behind his back. You stare at his accusingly, suspicious of the way he moves until he finally reaches up and knock the shit hat off. His other hand comes out from behind his back and pushes a new hat down onto your head slowly. The brim of the Stetson is perfect, the curve stylish as he smiles with glee at your appearance.

“Is this a Stetson?”

“Hell yeah, darlin’,” Jake grins, palming your jaw and his thumb stroking your cheek sweetly.

“Jake,” a pout forming on my lips as I search his eyes. “What the fuck?”

“What?”

“This is your Stetson?” I ask.

“No.” His answer is distant as he tilts the dark brim of his Stetson and his lips brushing against your exposed shoulder.

“Jake,” I push his forehead so that I can see his green eyes, twinkling with amusement, “Tell me you didn’t buy me a Stetson.”

“I’m not going to lie to you Sunshine,” Jake murmurs deeply in your ear, my eyes slowly closing to relish the sensation of his wet kisses along the column of my neck. “That’s not in my nature.” You let him kiss up your neck and to your temple, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips before pulling back.

“We should get moving before you do something you’ll regret, cowboy,” I say, kissing his jaw before stepping back from the intoxicating warmth of his body. He groans, scanning you over with a lick of a smile before interlacing your hands. He tugs you through the door, locking it behind him and leading you out to his silver Chevy truck.

“Are we taking the truck?” you ask slowly as his fingertips pull you along passed the truck’s bed and onto the street.

“I figured we’d both drink too much and I’d rather leave the truck here,” Jake muses, eyes sparkling as he turns to stare at you. “Gives me a reason to take you home.” Jake’s been bold before, his words confront with their impact as he compliments you but there’s a different air around him tonight. Waves of electricity race through you at his thick drawl, his brazen gaze. There’s a new level of confidence in his step while he strolls along in his Stetson. Never did you think your kinks included a southern man, but you’d save a horse any day of the week at this point.

You swallowed down the nerves as Nat’s house comes into view. This is Jake you are talking about and so you swing your hips, step ahead of him slightly and call over your shoulder in the best southern belle accent you can muster, “Who said you’ll be takin’ me home tonight?” You pick up your pace slowly but surely as Jake’s heels slam against the pavement as he speeds up. Jake’s arms circle around you, his biceps bulging as he swings you around. A giggle rolls off your lips at the motion and suddenly, you’re staring into his forest greens again.

Jake chews one last time on his toothpick before flicking it away onto the grass, pulling you in by the neck to press a searing kiss to your glossy lips. You let out a high-pitched moan as your mouths move feverishly against each other. When he finally releases you, his chest rising and falling as he doesn’t leave your personal space. His hot breath fans over your face as he growls “I’m the only man to take you home tonight.”

His words have you mindlessly nodding, reaching up to slide your nails over the nape of his neck. You scrap slowly before tugging him back in for another kiss. “You’re disgusting,” you hear from a distance and when you pull back, Rooster is shaking his head at the two of you. His disgruntled face matches his old man from Up costume perfectly, his large frame hunching over a walker as he moves into the house slowly. You can’t help the giggle that ripples through you and before you know it, Jake’s face is buried in your neck as he joins in your laughter.

When you finally make it inside the house, the party of aviators is in full swing, and the music is buzzing as you shuffle through the door with Jake’s hands on your hips. You’re already swaying to the Billie Eillish music as Nat jumps up at the sight of the both of you, pushing you toward the makeshift photobooth of sheets and balloons.

“You’re such a hot couple, it makes me sick,” she pulls out her phone to snap a few photos as you and Jake pose together. On the last photo, Jake twirls you around, dipping you slowly as she snaps away. He’s grinning down at you, a Cheshire smile as he pulls you up right. “I’m stealing your girlfriend, go make her a drink. The liquor is in the kitchen,” she mentions before clenching your wrist to drag you away from Jake.

You throw a kiss his way before disappearing into the crowd where your friends and Jake’s coworkers are crowded around until she gets to the slider door. Outside, there’s a few heaters throughout the yard and a couple girlfriends are lounging over the patio couch. It’s then that I have a chance to take in Nat’s outfit. A fun chromatic alien look, her tousled hair is twisted up into two space buns and secured with an antenna headband.

“There she is, the smoking gun!” Aries squeals, tittering on her high heels as she rises to her feet and jumps on you. Her metallic, shiny material of her jumpsuit matching Nat’s. Her cute face is speckled with gemstones as she squeezes you tightly.

“You look so hot,” Gemini adjusts the hood of her Winnie the Pooh onsie as she takes another sip of her solo cup. “Is that a real cowboy hat?”

Nat goes to grip the brim of your hat and tug it off your head when a strong hand slaps her hand away. “You don’t touch a cowboy’s Stetson Phoenix,” he scolds her, fingertips sliding over the top of your ass slowly as he hands you a drink.

“Tequila sunrise for my Sunshine.”

“Thank you, Tex,” I take a few sips of his drink before leaning up to kiss the rough scruff of his jaw and landing a soft glossy kiss on his lips.

He pats you on the bum, twice. “I’m going to go have a cigar on the front porch if you need me,” he hums, lavishing in the taste of orange juice and grenadine before unwrapping himself from you. He tips his hat to the group with a strong “Ladies,” and disappears into the house.

The women squeal around you, dragging you around to the couch to settle down. “Oh my god, he is so in love with you,” Aries says and sighs, “It makes me sick.”

“Oh stop it.”

“He bought you a Stetson,” Nat responds, staring pointedly at you as she takes a gulp of her beer. They all lean in, waiting for your response but you only shrug. There has been a different air about what happened lately, the two of you moving in a different direction. Maybe there was a chance…

Later that night, Jake finds you on the dance floor. You’re spinning from the flowing tequila and when you taste his lips, there’s a smoky sweetness of bourbon smeared into his DNA. It causes a wave of heat run through you as his thigh slots between yours and his mouth finds your ear while the two of you grind to the bass of the music. You feel like you’re the only ones in the room underneath the brims of your hats, as you kiss his bottom lip and stare up at him through your lashes.

“Jake,” your voice is shaky as you step back when the song ends, searching his face as you step back slightly. He’s watching you with narrowed eyes, assessing you as another song picks up. “Jake, take me home.” The typically secure and bold man is still, his hands on his hips.

You step back into his personal space, manicured nails splaying out on his chest as you lean up to his cheek. “Take me home, cowboy,” you rasp, teeth grazing over the shell of his ear as you pull back. And that’s it. That snaps him out of this trance as he suddenly moves double time like he’s just been called back into the air, back into action. Jake clamps down on your wrist, not hard enough to hurt you but tight enough to make his presence a blazing reminder of the heat between the two of you.

You’re snaking through the house until fresh air greets you and you don’t even realize how fast you’re moving down the street until he pivots on a whim. Jake’s pressing you into the cool sage green metal of a lamp post as you kiss each other deeply, want seeping from your pores.

“Tell me to drop you off at home,” he grunts as you as his front pushes into your dress. You can feel the tight stretch of his jeans, the strain of his bulge against you. “Tell me not to come inside your home with you and send me home.” He’s begging now between licks of tongue and teeth, but the fire has consumed you, burning a flame only he can put out.

“No,” I taunt, the whisper so quiet it nearly escapes into the night. “I won’t.”

Taglist: 

@luckyladycreator2

@ceilingfann

@rosiahills22

@child-of-sunshine

@callsign-scully

@hopefulinlove

@cevans-winchester

@double-j

@blue-aconite

@callsign-hummingbird

@romanoff13-blog-BLOG

@rosiahills22

@kajjaka

@sylviaes99

@chaoticassidy

@child-of-of-the-sunshine

[goron-king-darunia]

Eggtober Recap and Masterpost 2023

Untitled Egg Poem Egg Yolk Splattered in a chipped bowl, Limitless potential Broken like the dawn.

Scared of wasted sunrise, Scared of loving white lies, Yearning, Wanting to breathe free.

Prison within a prison, Living without living, I am spinning, toiling, burning, Breaking, sifting, praying, learning, Nothing blooming Nothing growing Tears.

Crackling insanity, A song that boils within me A rhythm Setting me in stone.

And I'll claw in Like dandelions, Vines, like yeast and mold I'll make a mark one day, you'll see.

Rooted, I'll grow my thorns, It's not my fault for being born, Sorry if My laughter is too loud.

I'll make a reverie of mechanical monotony No more apologies Just me. Insects and wriggling larvae, Eggshell like lead paint chips, Star dust doesn't choose its shape.

Pigment from wilted roses, blood spilled by mistake, I refuse to ever break.

Not again.

Eggtober is over. We did it~ The poem doesn't really speak to a current state of mind. Just a pattern of maladaptive thinking I grew up having, being the weird kid. People like the rough edges a lot more when you grow up, I've found. Makes you interesting. Or maybe it's just easier to find your people when you're unapologetically strange online. And I like that Eggtober sort of embraces that. It's not a super serious Inktober challenge. Just a bunch of weird people drawing weird eggs. And I mean that in the best way. People expect there to be a "why" a lot. "Why eggs?" And sometimes there is a why. Sometimes I draw eggs to express something or to symbolize something. But sometimes there is no why. Sometimes it's just because an egg is easy or fun or comfortable. Sometimes an egg just feels right. Sometimes it's just to make something. Doesn't have to be poetic or meaningful. Sometimes you just draw an egg, and that's all it is. And I think a lot of discomfort around art is that everyone expects there to be a why, and if you don't have a why, then your art doesn't deserve to be seen. "Why do you like gorey stuff, kinky stuff, weird stuff? If you can't explain, I'm choosing to believe you're a freak and should be disallowed from creating." And I'm lucky, I think, to not be that popular. I don't get asked these sorts of things. But I see it happen to other people. And sometimes I get it. An answer to the why pacifies. I get uneasy with horror the same as everyone and I pacify it by reading the wiki and learning the secrets and understanding the why. But I think we need to get more comfy making up our own why, or get comfy with the knowledge that sometimes there isn't a why. Sometimes the little brain goblin decides there is no why. They just like the weird little eggs. And that's okay. And I think the reason we make up for other peoples' "why" should maybe stop being "because they're a weird little freak that likes degenerate things." Because yeah, maybe they are. But it's not a bad thing. And the world is a lot more interesting when we accept that we don't always know the why. And the why isn't always as simple as that.

I dunno. I'm rambling a bit. But I'm grateful to everyone that showed up and participated and shared and liked and just... enjoyed existing where the thing happening was lots of eggs and the "why" was just "why not?"

Hoping every one of you has a nice glass of your preferred warm beverage and stays nice and toasty for the rest of the year. (Shout out to the southern hemisphere folks if there are any. May you guys have an iced beverage of your choice and stay nice and cool for the rest of the year.)

Lots of thoughts about Eggtober 2023 and no good way to articulate them, but suffice it to say that having a loose amount of structure like this is very good on my garbage ADHD brain. If anything in the collage catches your fancy, here's the posts in order from the top left to the bottom right. May the rest of 2023 be sweet. I can't wait to see everyone again next year! And don't eat too much Halloween Candy at once, even if it is those yummy gummy fried egg candies.

Eggtober 2023 Posts in Order: (Unfortunately I didn't learn about the speedpaint feature until day 6 😢)

Eggtober 1st: Fried Egg on Green Eggtober 2nd: Lemon Fried Egg (Both Versions) Eggtober 3rd: Fried Egg Cake

Eggtober 4th: Poached Eggs and Asparagus Hollandaise Eggtober 5th: Sheet Pan Fried Eggs Eggtober 6th: Raw Egg (Both Versions)

Eggtober 7th: Painted Egg Eggtober 8th: Rice Crispy Eggs Eggtober 9th: Chocolate Souffle Eggtober 10th: Hot and Sour Soup

Eggtober 11th: Flan Eggtober 12th: Fried Eggs and Bacon Eggtober 13th: Ramen Eggs Eggtober 14th: Tiger Skin Egg

Eggtober 15th: Fried Egg with Berries Eggtober 16th: Cheesy Baked Cream Eggs Eggtober 17th: Mushroom Quiche Eggtober 18th: Cipriani Cake

Eggtober 19th: Pavlova with Strawberry Jam Eggtober 20th: Deviled Egg Eggtober 21st: Hard-boiled Egg and Mayo Eggtober 22nd: Scrambled Eggs with Cheese

Eggtober 23rd: Omurice Eggtober 24th: Shrimp Fried Rice Eggtober 25th: Uovo in Raviolo Eggtober 26th: Image of Fried Egg on Jack-o-lantern.

Eggtober 27th: Tea Egg Eggtober Eggtober 28th: Monster Eggs Eggtober 29th: Korean Egg Bread Eggtober 30th: Fried Egg on Magenta in the Stlye of @quezify

Eggtober 31st: Fried Egg on Burger Eggtober 31st Bonus: Egg Creature from SNOBBISM

Special thanks to my bae, @actualaster for the love and support, @hannikka for the encouraging words, @lady-quen for the ongoing collab, and @quezify for being the best host. Love you all! I am putting the King Sized Reese's and KitKat candy bars in your metaphorical Halloween bags.

[ofstoriesandstardust]

apple pie (b.r.b.)

a/n: this is for @gretagerwigsmuse who has put up with months of voice messages and screenshots and bursts of inspirations and always entertains every idea i ever have (also this is most definitely not a return to tumblr please don't be mistaken)

summary: Bradley and Sunshine take a road trip to Julian as they learn each more intimately.

flight risk masterlist

warnings: kylie wrote fluff who is she, swearing, a touch of angst, inspired by lizzy mcalpine's "apple pie"

word count: 3.7k

“Got a hot date you gotta run out here for?” Hangman asks, a teasing lilt to his voice. 

He shuts his locker as he smiles, picking his bag up from the bench. “’Course I do, Bagman. My girl gets in tonight, remember?” 

Hangman nods, coming to stand next him, a grin on his face. “How could anybody forget? It’s all you’ve talked about all week.” 

He nudges Hangman before stepping over the bench. “Got to run and pick her up from the airport if we’re gonna get on the road at a decent hour.” 

“Have a good weekend, Rooster.” Bob says, patting him on the shoulder as he heads towards the doors.

“Tell Sunshine I said hi!″ Fanboy calls after him. 

-

“How do you always look so good, even at an airport?” You say with a sigh, coming to a stop next to Bradley and the Bronco. 

His head whips towards you, a grin spreading across his face. “Sunshine.” He lets out in a rushed breath, arms already reaching out for you. You allow him to tug you into a tight embrace, arms wrapping around his broad figure as he tucks his face into the crook of your neck. 

You lose track of how long you stand there, tucked into his embrace and relishing in the comfort it brings until a horn honks, reminding you of where you are. 

“Missed you Sunshine.” He mutters, voice muffled. “So fucking much.” 

You squeeze him before letting your arms drop. “Missed you too, B.” 

He presses a soft kiss to your collarbone before pulling back, a shy smile on his face. “I love you Sunshine.” 

Your smile grows. “I love you.” You say, standing up on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek. “You wanna get going?” 

He nods, grabbing your suitcase. “Yeah, let’s get on the road, my love.” 

-

In a rare moment of Southern California weather, it starts to rain as the two of you drive up the windy road towards the small town. Bradley’s hand is on your thigh as he drives, you watching the passing forestry. 

“There’s a Girl Scout camp up here.” 

You hum, pulling your eyes from the greenery to the brunette next to you “Yeah?”

He nods. “Yeah, there’s actually two. Think one is called like Camp Whispering Oaks and the other is Winaka or something? Not sure. I was a Boy Scout, so obviously I wouldn’t know.” 

You laugh. “How could I ever forget that about you?” 

He squeezes your thigh, as he grins. “I just remember ‘cause the area up here and around the camps was damaged pretty bad from some wildfires when I was a teenager.” 

You sigh, looking back out the window. “Did you come out here a lot?” 

He gives a half-shrug as you look out at the trees, covered in the mountain gloom. “Kind of. You can see the stars so clearly out here, so Mom and I would camp out here when I was little. I was always so mesmerized.” 

“Must be nice to get away from all the hustle and bustle of a city life.”

He hums, turning on his blinker to turn despite the fact that there’s no one around. “Yeah, I wanted us to be able to get away from all of it. Away from work, from other people...” He trails off, like he’s suddenly doubting himself. “Not that I think you don’t like my friends, I just figured it be nice to-”

“-to have some alone time away from prying eyes?” You tease, picking up Bradley’s hand from your thigh, intertwining your fingers. 

He squeezes your hand. “Something like that.” He’s silent for a moment as he glances down at the directions on his phone. “Okay, we should be getting close.” 

He makes another turn down a long driveway, the gravel making the ride bumpy as the two of you drive up. 

“Okay, this is it.” He says, bringing the car to a stop and cutting the ignition. You lean forward, seatbelt still on as you take in the small house. It’s a small, two-story building surrounded by forest. You can see a wood swing in the back and suspect there’s probably a really cute patio out back. 

It feels rustic, it feels cute, it feels homey. 

“Bradley, this is so darling.” You whisper. 

He clicks the button on your seatbelt before pulling his door open. “Let’s go inside then, shall we?” 

Bradley grabs your hand as you run up the driveway together, laughing freely. He unlocks the front door as you step in, taking in the small main floor. The kitchen isn’t all that big, but seems fully functional. The living room matches everything else in its rustic feel and the bedrooms are small but cozy. You’re pleased to see that there is in fact a deck that overlooks the wilderness. You could see yourself living in a place like this, far removed from the stresses and worries of daily life. 

You’re sitting on the deck, looking out at everything around the cabin, when Bradley slips out after putting your bags in one of the bedrooms. 

“Enjoying the view?” 

You turn your head slightly, nodding. “Kind of reminds me of the camping trip we took in college.” 

He sighs, sitting down behind you on the bench you’re perched on, one arm wrapping around your waist, the other resting on the edge of the deck wall. “But better this time right?”

You let out a breathy laugh, shaking your head. “Obviously. It’s way prettier up here and it’s just the two of us this time.” You say, leaning back against his chest. He hums, hand moving down to your thigh to rub circles into the skin. 

“I’m glad you’re here with me, Sunshine.” 

You smile, settling in. 

“Nowhere else I’d rather be.” 

-

To be fair, you’d tried to stay present and in the moment the rest of the evening with Bradley. He’d cooked for you, and played card games with you, and the two of you had been wrapped up together all night, but still the feelings remained. 

The fear that you hadn’t been wanted on that camping trip at UVA, the embarrassment and hurt that had bubbled up after overhearing Bradley say she’s really just Tommy’s friend had lingered. It had lingered all these years. It stayed underneath the surface even as you tried to force it away. 

"Can I admit something about the camping trip? The one we took at UVA?”

The words tumble out of your mouth before you can ever really help it. 

Bradley hums, nuzzling his face closer into your neck. His mustache tickles your neck as he pulls you close, hands finding purchase on your hips. “Sure Sunshine.” 

You hesitate, swallowing. “I heard you. That last night, you and Eli, when you were talking about me.” 

“What’re you-” He begins to ask, probably recalling the memories tucked away of that trip but then he freezes, signaling to you that he remembers. “Sunshine.” 

You shrug as he pulls his head up to look at you. “I just- I don’t know why I’m telling you that, I just-” 

He shakes his head, rolling over in the bed and taking you with him. “Sunshine.” He says firmly, forcing you to meet his gaze from where you had previously been staring at his chest. “I- Fuck Sunshine.” 

You swallow, looking away from him again. “I wasn’t supposed to hear that, I know.” 

His hands slip underneath your shirt once more, thumbs rubbing small circles. The action soothes you, reassuring you that even though he might not have liked you then, he was with you now. 

“Sunshine, I- I was being defensive. It was an asshole thing to say, and it wasn't even true to begin with.”

You shrug again. “You can admit that you didn’t like me back then. I was kind of annoying and I know the whole trip was kind of a set-up anyways.” 

He sucks in a breath through his teeth. “Sunshine, you told me that we were all better because you knew me. But the truth was that we were all better for knowing you. You were such an amazing person and it... scared me. Scared me shitless.”

He moves one of his hands to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear as you shake your head. “How-”

He swallows, giving you a painful smile. “When Mom died, Maverick was all I had. Even before then, he was the closest thing I had to a Dad, and he was that for me in every sense of the word. To find out just a couple days before starting at UVA that he pulled my Naval Academy application, and with it all my dreams-” He takes a shuddering breath. “It felt like a betrayal in all the worst ways. It felt like a confirmation that I would never be able to follow my dreams, that I wasn’t good enough to get them in the first place.” 

One of your hands reaches up to trace over a scar on his cheekbone. “Bradley.” You whisper, unsure of what to say to comfort him, knowing there was more he wanted to say. 

In all the years you’d known Bradley, in all the time you’d spent with him, he very rarely spoke of the hurt Maverick had caused by pulling his papers. But you’d known. Even though you saw Bradley for who he was at his core, the kind and charismatic human being who’d do anything for his friends, you’d seen the person the anger and hurt had transformed him into being. You knew there were reasons he thrived with the kind of human being Eli was as a friend, why Bradley had the same friends for four years and never got any new ones. 

Bradley hadn’t always been the being that enraptured people so wholly as he did now. 

You knew that and you knew that the loss of his family had done that to him. 

“I told you that who we were as kids weren’t people who would’ve built a long-lasting relationship. I told you I was too angry to trust anyone.” You nod, recalling the words from the night that everything had changed between the two of you. “However, what I didn’t tell you was that I was also too scared to trust anyone. Eli was ride-or-die for me, but even that friendship didn’t happen overnight. I never dated anyone at UVA, knowing I couldn’t throw a relationship into the midst of everything I was feeling. But even though you were everything I’d ever wanted, even back then, if you had come to me and told me how you felt- I don’t think I would’ve believed you. I don’t think I would’ve allowed myself to think I deserved someone as good as you.” 

Your breath catches in your throat at the thought that Bradley Bradshaw, one of the best people you’d ever had the pleasure of knowing, would’ve thought he wasn’t good enough for you.

“I shouldn’t have said what I said that night to him. I got defensive, being confronted with the thought that you might feel like more than friends, knowing that I couldn't give you what you wanted. I was so busy trying to convince myself I didn’t feel the same way, I never allowed myself to see the love you were so freely trying to give me.” 

You swallow, unsure of what to say to him, knowing how vulnerable he’s being with you.

“They all knew how I felt about you before I did. They wanted us to go after what each of us believed we didn’t deserve.” He sighs, intertwining your fingers. “And for better or worse, I’m glad we decided we deserved each other.” 

“Me too.” You admit softly. 

He nods, giving you a soft smile as he brings you back to his chest.

-

You can hear the car turn on the wet gravel as you pull up to the small shop, an orange glow lighting up the rain-streaked windows. “Here we are. Ready to brave the rain?” 

Bradley rounds the car as you climb out, taking your hand. The two of you make a run for it across the parking lot, to little avail, getting pelted by the cold water as the two of you reach the front steps of the home that’s been converted into a shop. He holds the door open for you, the bell jingling. “After you, Mrs. Bradshaw.” He says, with a teasing smile, nudging you through the door. You have no time to process what he’s just said to you as an older woman comes from around the corner, beaming at the two of you. 

“Ah, Mr. and Mrs. Bradshaw, we are so glad the two of you could make your reservation despite the rain!” 

You swallow, feeling your cheeks warm, as Bradley grins. “Of course, Mrs. Peters, we were just so excited.” 

She waves him off. “Call me Donna, dear. The weather has meant our shop is a bit empty today, so you and your wife can have the best table in the house.” She shows the two of you to a cozy booth, near the fireplace, which is currently emitting a much welcome warmth from the bitter cold outside. 

“Here’s our list of pastries. Please let me know when you’re ready and I’ll be happy to get you your tea.” 

Bradley settles in the booth with his hand on your thigh, eyes flitting over the small list the woman had given him as you stare at him with wide eyes. 

If your brain hadn’t been a live depiction of a loading screen, you would have appreciated the warmth of the small tea place Bradley had found, the way it felt homey and cozy and full of love. You would’ve appreciated the flowery smell, the soothing pitter patter of rain, the way the decor had clearly been so carefully picked and designed with love and passion at its core. 

Unfortunately, you had other things on your mind. 

“Bradley.” You hiss. 

He doesn’t look up from the menu. “I hear their apple scones are good, apples picked fresh from a farm not too far from here. Apparently Donna’s daughter bakes the pies from the shop down the road, so they’ve got some here for- what?” Bradley asks, blinking. “Oh, Donna inferred when I made the reservation that we were married and well- she technically isn't wrong, so-” He cuts himself off, a nervous smile on his face. “What, hate being called Mrs. Bradshaw?” 

“No.” You’re quick to correct him, shaking your head. It was definitely not the first time a stranger had mistaken you as Bradley’s wife, dating back to even early on in your agreement with him. “No, I don’t hate it at all. I’ve just never heard it come from you.” 

Bradley blushes, turning away from you as he shrugs. “Dunno, just wanted to try it out.” He mutters. 

“Bradley Bradshaw, are you blushing on me?” You ask, warmth spreading over your face as you scoot closer to him. “And here I thought you were such a charmer.”

“Pick your pastry, woman.” He says, but his voice wobbles. You press a quick kiss to his cheek, tucking yourself into his side. 

“The apple pie is just fine.” 

-

“Donna?” 

The woman hums as she sets down another kettle of tea on the table. “Yes dear?” 

“Do you think I could play the piano?” 

She hums, brushing off her apron. “Absolutely. I certainly would love some live music.” 

Bradley smiles before sliding out of the booth and walking over to the grand piano sitting in the corner. He plays a few keys before looking back to you. You laugh, standing up. 

“Didn’t realize you wanted me to join you.” 

He huffs, giving you a smile. “If I want to serenade my girl, I kinda need her here to do so.” You shake your head as you slide down on to the bench next to him. 

“And what are you playing for me today my love?” 

He hums, testing out a few more keys. “Just wait.” 

The unmistakable keys of George Ezra begin in the room, as Bradley’s deep voice begins to sing along. 

Well, goodness gracious, what a time

I found the sweetest human being alive

You glance at him as he plays, your heart fluttering as he plays the keys. 

Maybe we already met once before

Another time, late night

Same kids in a different life

You’d told him once, how much you loved this song. How much you wanted to dance to the love of your life to this song, and it felt so sweet and full of love. 

And he had learned it for you. 

I’ll hold you and I’ll be home

And I’ll know I found the sweetest human being alive

A few moments of silence pass after he finishes before he chances a glance at you. “I found the sweetest human being alive.” 

“I can’t believe you learned that song for me. And you’ve been holding out on me this whole time that you knew it.” 

He smiles before pressing a kiss to your lips. “Was saving it for a special moment.” 

-

Your phone dings next to you on the bench as Bradley hums, mindlessly playing a few keys. It’s from a number you don’t recognize, piquing your interest as you skim the message. 

“Holy shit.” You mutter, pushing yourself off of Bradley’s side as you unlock your phone. 

“What?” Bradley asks, glancing down at the device. 

“Listen to this.” 

Hey girl, it’s Madison. Bailey gave me your number. We’re all at Tommy’s and going through his basement. Found some pictures of you and Bradley from the disposable camera we took on the camping trip I forgot to pass along to you. 

Here they are. If you want the hard copies, which I’m more than happy to send to you, would you let me know a good address to mail them to? 

Miss you and hope you and Bradley are both doing well.

You read to him, glancing up at him. 

“Pull the pictures up, I wanna see.” 

You do, clicking on the icon. You swipe through, wondering how you had never seen these before. 

You pause, looking at one from the second night the two of you had been there. Madison had dug out a copy of Monopoly from one of the cabinets, and while your friends took it as an opportunity to turn it into a drinking game, you and Bradley had taken it seriously, getting a wee bit too competitive for your inebriated friends. 

And there’s nothing special about the photo except for the way you and Bradley are looking at each other, like nothing else in the world mattered except each other. At that moment, nothing probably did. 

“Even then...” He whispers from behind you. “They always said that even then, I looked at you like you were my whole world. I’ve never really believed it until now but...” He trails off. 

“Even then.” You whisper. “Even then, we were everything to each other.” 

“Guess so, Sunshine.” He murmurs. 

He presses a quick kiss to your cheek, before squeezing your thigh once, and resuming his mindless playing from before. You sigh, locking the phone shut as you tuck your head back into his shoulder, enjoying the warmth spreading over you. 

-

“Why are we parking in the cell phone lot?” You ask as Bradley pulls into a spot. He cuts the ignition before pulling off his seatbelt and turning to you. 

“Because, Sunshine.” He says, with a sigh, resting his forearm on the center console. “I’m really going to miss you.” You watch Adam's apple bob as his eyes flicker down to your lips. “And I want to take my time saying goodbye to my girl.” 

“I’m really going miss you too.” You whisper, before pulling your seatbelt off. You give him a soft smile before cupping his cheek, but stopping just short of where he wants you. “Are you going walk me to security like a gentleman?” 

He returns your smile. “Haven’t I always?” 

The kiss he gives you is soft and sweet and full of love. It��s everything you could ever want from a kiss and it’s bittersweet, knowing how long you’ll have to go without it. 

“I’m really gonna miss you, B.” You mutter against his lips and he sighs, pulling away to rest his nose against your cheek. 

“I know, Sunshine, I know.” He peeks up at you, hazel eyes shining through his lashes. “Promise you’ll visit soon, Sunshine?” 

You give him a sad smile. “You’ll barely even have time to miss me, Bradshaw.” 

He huffs, pulling away from you. “I highly doubt that, I always miss you.” 

A giggle bubbles up out of you, although neither of you can deny the wetness of your eyes. “Oh, you always miss me, huh?” 

“You’re the person I want to do everything with, Sunshine. Of course I do.” Bradley hardly lets you feel the weight of his words as he pulls his door open. “C’mon, don’t want you missing your flight.” 

Bradley doesn’t let go of your hand as the two of you walk into the ever bustling San Diego airport. He goes with you to drop your checked bag off, the Delta employee smiling at the two of you through the whole interaction. After making the short walk to where security begins, Bradley sighs, tugging you to the side. You instinctively wrap your arms around Bradley, knowing what’s coming. His hug is just as tight as he presses a kiss to the top of your head. 

“Please don’t cry Sunshine.” He whispers as you pull away. You rub your eyes as you pull away. 

“I’m trying really hard not to. You’d think by now, this would get easier.” 

He frowns, brushing some hair out of your face. “It’s just as hard for me, Sunshine. I’m serious that I want you around all the time.” He presses another kiss to the top of your head. “C’mon, as much as I’d love to keep you here, you have to make your flight and get back to Boston.” 

You swallow around the lump growing in your throat as you let him go, stepping back into go down to security. You wave to him, blinking back tears before you lose sight of him, entering the nonstop chaos of TSA. You blink hard, willing yourself not to cry as you hand the woman your passport, realizing how much you want this to be the last time the two of you say goodbye like this. 

[southern-god1]

Guided Meditation

As you returned home from work, a package waited for you outside your apartment door. It was addressed to you, but there was no return address listed. 

You opened it and were surprised to find an old-fashioned tape recorder and a pair of headphones, a brochure for some guided meditation thing. 

Curious, you decided to try it. You found meditation calming, and a guided meditation experience sounded potentially interesting. You slipped on the headphones and pressed play. 

“Welcome to Guided Meditation. I will be your guide through this guided meditation experience, Dr. William Greyson.”

The man’s voice was calm and quiet, possessing a refined Southern accent, the quiet dignity of a gentleman. It was soothing to listen to. He continued. 

“Close your eyes and attempt to clear your mind. Remove any distracting thoughts. Politics, sports, pre-conceived notions. Take a deep breath in. Count to 5. 1…2…3…4…5. Exhale. Good.”

You took a few deep breaths, counted to five, and exhaled, trying not to think about politics or sports or anything else, to clear your mind, as you did with all meditation. The smooth voice continued. 

“Picture a pristine, babbling creek, full of fish, winding its way through the forest. Hear the soft babbling of the water, the sounds of birds around you. You are fishing in the stream. Feel the rod in your big, strong, calloused hands. Feel the cool air against your tough, sun-burnt skin, hardened from years of hard work on the farm. Your hairs stand on end from the cool wind, your skin prickling. Remain in this calming space for a few moments, listening to the water and feeling the cool wind on your skin.” 

For a few moments, you could swear you felt a cool breeze rush over you and hear water rushing nearby. Not the sound of waves crashing against the hot beaches of Oahu, but water like in a creek or a stream. Must be the power of suggestion, you thought. 

“Now, let us transition to another scene. It is fall, and as the leaves are falling, you are getting busier. Busy hunting and of course, playing football. Feel the adrenaline pumping through your body, the sweat after a hard-won game. Feel the energy coursing through your veins, through your big, strong muscles, solid and strong like white titanium. Feel the heat radiating from your body, the sweat and musk wafting from you. Feel your size 16 cleats crunching through fallen leaves, feel the sweat drying on your body. Smell the smoke of a bonfire, taste the ice-cold beer on your lips before you rumble out a burp.”

This was getting…weirder, you thought. Adrenaline and heat, energy? This was supposed to be meditation, not pumping you up! And what kind of a meditation tape would ever talk about beers and burps and bonfires? Maybe you should stop listening, you think, before a hot warmth swells up inside you. You felt sweaty, but you did have a hard day at work, and it was hot, like always. 

“Feel the pride welling up inside you. The pride from winning a game, winning a game against a weak team from up north, showing them Southern power and strength. Utterly dominating them, as you should. Feel your mighty muscles. Your huge boulder biceps, mighty pecs, your hard abs. This is the power within and without. It is your power. You are strong. You are mighty. You are powerful. Feel your white titanium muscles slowly swelling up bigger and bigger, getting stronger as you embrace your heritage.”

You had no idea what was going on at this point, and tried to reach for the headphones, only to feel the warmth inside you abruptly move, to your pecs. Your pecs began to grow and swell, swelling out into mighty slabs of muscle. Your abs became chiseled like thick cobblestones of muscle. You couldn’t bring yourself to open your eyes, and it felt so good. It burned, but it was a good kind of burning, like a purifying flame. 

“Feel your arms and legs growing. Your cock becoming worthy of you, rather than the old, inferior you.” 

The heat shot out in several directions. Your arms and legs began to burn; you could feel muscles swelling up from nothing, being molded by the heat like clay being fired in a kiln, hardening into strong mounds of muscle, huge biceps, triceps, calves. As the heat spread to your cock, you nearly doubled over with pleasure as you felt your balls balloon in size, your cock growing, becoming a long, thick cock worthy of a man of your size. 

“You may feel disoriented as you adjust to your new reality. Feel your skin burn as you become a true Southerner, a Son of Dixie. Cast aside your old identify and be born anew."

You were finally able to open your eyes and felt an intense itching all over your body. You looked down in awe and horror at your new muscles. They were so big and strong, but slowly seeping across your body was a wave of white, almost like oil seeping across your body, climbing like kudzu vines up a trellis. Wherever it passed, your skin itched furiously for a moment before becoming pure white titanium, unblemished and nothing like the darker tone over what was left of your body. You frantically tried rubbing it off, and tried reaching up for the headphones, only for a wave of confusion to wash over you. Why were you trying to take off the headphones? This was helping you become a new, better you, a bigger you, a stronger you. 

"The process of acquiring new memories may be confusing, disorienting, traumatic. You are a proudly Southern country boy, you have always been a proudly Southern boy. You are a big, strong, cocky football player. You have always been a football player. Let go, give in, give up, surrender to who you are now." 

You shook your head vigorously, looking down at your body. Why had you ever thought you were Asian? Fuck that, you were a country boy through and through. Nah, the only thing Asian about you was the fried rice and egg rolls you ate at that cheap Chinese place on the corner. You and your team members had once eaten literally everything in the restaurant, forcing them to close early. After all, big muscles like yours needed big fuel. You were a big strong country boy, Will Hayes, a player for the Nocturne City Rebels. 

"Feel your memories slipping away. Do not be afraid, they are the remnants of your past life being erased so you may start anew, so you may be reborn. You will be a Southern country boy through and through, with no memory of your past life."

You had strange memories. Memories of someone else...someone who you thought was you. An Asian boy, living in Hawaii. Milestones of his life flashed by; a birthday party on the beach, learning to swim in the salty Pacific, his first car, attending a Harry Potter screening with friends. But these brief flickers faded quickly, like embers in a dying fire, struggling to survive. You shook your head, new old memories flooding in. You were born to a small family in rural Virginia, outside Nocturne City. You spent your childhood hunting, fishing, helping dad out on the farm. You had never left the continent, let alone been to Hawaii. You remembered the first time you shot a deer, your father proudly helping you mount it on the wall where it remained to this day. You remembered getting your truck, a big, lifted Ford that had speakers that could shake the ground when you blared Dierks Bentley and Florida Georgia Line. You remembered your first football game, the rush you felt when your team won against the pathetic little team from up north. 

"Now, clear your mind of any lingering elements of your old self. Interests, hobbies, all need to be destroyed that you may be born anew as a Son of Dixie."

Despite your country upbringing, you had weird tastes. A fondness for Harry Potter, Magic The Gathering, and musicals. All that needed to be erased. Within seconds, your knowledge of Magic cards and spells was replaced by a hard-won knowledge of how to fish and hunt. Your encyclopedic knowledge of lyrics from the songs of Wicked was replaced with knowing how to change a tire, fix an engine, and fix a leak. Your love of fictional British wizards was replaced with a love of all things football. Your favorite movies were now the Southern Avengers movies; you even had a framed poster for the original Captain Confederate on your bedroom wall. 

"Good. Now, there are just one more thing left to do. I assure you; it will come quite naturally to you. Explore your new body, and then jerk off. Purge yourself of your remaining impurities."

You looked down. Your work clothes were incredibly tight, unable to handle your new size, and looking comically undersized on your mighty body. Absolutely nothing remained of your previous appearance, aside from the clothes. You ran a hand through your scruffy facial hair, feeling the short brown hairs tickling your fingers. You felt your bulging biceps, flexing and feeling your immense muscles bulge with every flex. The sleeve of your work shirt tore, unable to handle your new biceps flexing. Your hands ran down, rubbing your huge pecs, massive slabs of beef topping your chest. You ran your hands down your abs, like rock hard bricks of white marble. Your hands found their way down to your immense cock; eight inches soft. You reached down and felt your balls, churning up seed. Normally you'd be fucking or being sucked off by a weak Yankee, or having sex with your boyfriend, Ryan, but you needed release now. You stroked your mighty country boy cock, and felt it harden. You slowly began to stroke it, feeling your cock quickly harden in response to your touch. As you stroked, more memories came to you. You remembered meeting Ryan in high school, the two of you falling in love on the football team; you were a running back, he was a tight end. You remembered your first time dominating a Yankee; making some weak Yankee nerd lick your cleats clean, get you beers, and suck you off. You stroked harder, cock lengthening to a ten-inch monster of country boy meat. 

"Purge yourself of what remains."

The voice was accompanied by the intense heat returning, concentrated in your cock and balls, and you groaned, stroking faster. Whatever this was, it felt incredible. You moaned loudly as you came, all traces of your previous existence being blasted out along with your load of thick salty cum. Your underwear and pants were soaked, and so was your chest and work shirt. This didn't last long through. The heat shot up to over your heart, and began to burn, more intensely than it had before. You nearly doubled over in pain and pleasure, as a battle flag tattoo formed over your heart. As you saw it forming, an intense wave of pride came over you. You were proud to be gay, proud to be Southern, proud of being a real man, proud of where you were from, and eager to show off your superiority to puny Yankees. You closed your eyes for a moment, reflecting. When you opened them, you looked down. Your work clothes were gone, replaced by a tank top and a pair of jeans, a pair of boots on your feet, which had grown to a solid size 16. A ball cap rested on your head. Despite the chill of the Virginia winter outside, you felt fine wearing just a wifebeater. You were no longer in Hawaii, you were at home in Virginia, about to go meet up with Ryan for a date; burgers, beers, and dominating a pair of Yankees he had caught. You grinned and took a pic before heading out to your truck. 

This was a commission for @dumbmusclehypnojockboy Thank you again for being one of my first ever commissions!

[humanrindswrites]

rain, rain

summary: lars comforts reader when a storm wakes her up

pairing: lars ulrich x female reader

warnings: fluff

word count: 681 words (a little short, but i didn't mean for this to be war and peace anyway)

a/n: this originally started out as something different and then i realised that writing it was making me bored so i changed it

It was only drizzling when they’d gone to bed, but a loud clap of thunder shocked her awake, making her jump and shake as her body started up again. The bedroom was illuminated by a flash of lightning through a gap in the curtains before plunging her back into darkness again. Somehow, Lars was still sound asleep, his head half under the covers as he snored gently. She shuffled up to him in an attempt to get him to subconsciously cuddle her, but he was too far gone to notice her there.

Another, louder, clap of thunder sounded making her jump again and tears prick her eyes. She’d never known it to rain like this in Southern California before and had only witnessed a few thunderstorms while on the road with Lars, but never at home. The weather wasn���t likely to let up anytime soon and cowering in bed wasn’t likely to make her feel any better, but she could only think of one solution.

“Lars,” she whispered, trying to not jolt him awake. “Baby, wake up.”

He mumbled wordlessly and nuzzled his face into his pillow, trying to fight off being woken up. She gingerly placed her hand on his head and shook him gently, his soft hair rustling under her fingers. She felt bad about waking him up since he’d been so tired lately, but he’d always told her that it was okay to wake him up when she was having a bad night.

“Wake up, Lars,” she said, louder this time as she shook him a little more vigorously.

“What’s wrong?” he muttered, his voice muffled by the sheets. “You have a bad dream?”

“No, I can’t sleep because of the storm,” she said, her voice shaking.

“Why? It’s just a little rain.”

It most certainly was not ‘just a little rain’. The loudest clap of thunder either of them had ever heard proved him wrong.

“Okay, c’mere,” Lars said as he pushed the sheets off of him and opened his arms for her.

She immediately buried herself in his bare chest and tightly wrapped her arms around him. He could feel her trembling as he ran his hands along her shoulders and down her arms. His head rested on top of hers as he fought off sleep, yawning deeply and trying to keep his eyes open for as long as she needed him for.

“Sorry for waking you,” she said when she felt him yawn against her.

“It’s okay,” he said, his voice scratchy and thick with sleep. “I don’t mind staying up with you.”

It had been a long day for Lars. He’d been up earlier than he normally was to go into the studio and didn’t get home until late, leaving him just enough time to eat and take a shower before going to bed. The new album was the main thing on his mind lately and whenever he wasn’t in the studio with the rest of the band, he was at home, practising new beats and rhythms on whatever surface he could find.

He was so tired that a thunderstorm wasn’t going to keep him up. It was just a shame that the same couldn’t be said for his poor frightened girlfriend.

She’d started to calm down just as the thunder quieted, reduced to just the occasional rumble that just barely could be heard over the rain. Her body had relaxed against his, her grip on him settled into a soft embrace as sleep started to take over her body.

“Feel better?” Lars asked as he stroked her hair. She nodded against his chest.

“A little,” she mumbled. “Thank you, baby.”

“No problem,” he said through a yawn before kissing the top of her head. “I think we should both get some sleep.”

She didn’t respond and he could tell that she’d already successfully drifted off; her breathing deep and level as it brushed against his bare chest. It didn’t take long for him to fall asleep after her, his arms still wrapped around her as if he didn’t want to let her go.