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warping-realities · 4 months ago

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What She Wants

I know I promised the previous one would be the last one for a while but I had a video that I not use in one of the last stories and ended up creating a shorter one just so as not to waste it. I hope you like it.

Cherisse was pissed off. At her old schoolmates and at herself. The five-year reunion was coming up next weekend, and she was gonna have to show up all alone. She never really gave a damn about this kind of stuff, always focused on her career. But then, why the hell did she lie about having a boyfriend? She knew why—those bitches Brenda and Destiny with their pathetic little housewife lives and their useless husbands loved to say that because she was a bodybuilder, no guy would wanna date her. I mean, what kind of dude would go out with a woman bigger than him? That thought made her wanna scream, but those bitches had a point. Even the male bodybuilders ended up choosing curvier, less muscular women, which really pissed her off. The fact that she was so close to becoming a big star in the bodybuilding scene should’ve been enough to ease her doubts, but it wasn’t. In reality, she was so fed up with everything that she dropped her apartment key on the floor of the hallway in the tiny building she lived in, thanks to her job as a Personal Trainer. At least for now, since she had contracts lined up with several big brands by the time she stepped on Olympia stage in a few months, which was what she should’ve been worrying about. Frustrated and angry, she picked up the key from the floor and stood up, only to see David, her neighbor, walking by. The blond thin and extremely cute guy worked at a nearby coffee shop and was always super polite to her, even though any flirting attempts on him had been shot down.

She knew she couldn’t make him like her or… could she? Remembering the times she got shot down by the guy, combined with the frustration about the upcoming event and the possibility of being ridiculed by her old classmates… all of that lit a fire inside her that made her decide to take action. She’d been warned a bunch of times not to mess with her gift, that it could spiral out of control and come with a high price, but she was tired of being the good girl, tired of being humiliated. It was time to think about herself. She will get what she wanted.

….

After a long day at the coffee shop, all David wanted was to flop down on the couch in his tiny one-bedroom apartment and chill, and maybe, just maybe, look for a hookup on Grindr. After throwing on a tank top and some shorts, he was about to head out of his room when he heard a noise—there was someone else in the apartment. Creeping up to the door, he was freaked out and jumped.

“Cherisse, what the hell! What are you doing here? What you want?

“What I want, David? I want my boyfriend!” The muscular black woman replied, grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

“What? What the hell are you talking about?”

“Yeah, I want my boyfriend, David. My boyfriend who loves me and would do anything for me!”

“Cherisse… you’re out of your min…” David started to say, cutting himself off as a weird sensation flooded his body, like he was about to choke, making him gasp for air. Then he was shocked to hear his own voice while his mouth moved on its own.

“But that’s what you already have, babe.”

“Not enough! I want my boyfriend, bigger, more muscular, and stronger than me.”

The choking feeling hit him again, this time harder, along with a dizzy spell that made David wobble for a second. After a few seconds, he seemed to recover. With his giant biceps and powerful pecs on display, he looked a few inches shorter, with shaved hair and a square face, wich smiled to Cherisse.

“Stronger and more muscular for sure, and two inches taller!”

“No, I want more! I want my bodybuilder boyfriend, way bigger than me, my boyfriend with beautiful dark hair and a darker skin.”

In an instant, the bodybuilder David underwent a transformation, turning into a caramel-skinned version with brown eyes and well-kept dark hair and beard, maybe of Latin descent.

“Much better! Take off those shorts and pose for me, David!”

He obeyed, stripping down to just his underwear and flexing his powerful muscles for his girlfriend to see.

“Yummy, but I still want more.” She commented licking her lips without noticing the change in her voice and vocabulary. “I want my boyfriend with delicious choclate skin as dark as mine. My professional bodybuilder boyfriend, Mr. Olympia material boyfriend. My boyfriend who fulfills all my needs and will accompany me to my school reunion, and make all the jealous bitches shut up they skunk mouths. Now come, come to me, my love,” she said, as the uncontrolled power took over completely.

As the muscular giant, who minutes ago had been a gay dude just looking for a casual hookup, walked from the bedroom door towards her, with each step he took, he grew larger while his skin darkened to a chocolate tone. His pecs looked like two slabs of meat, his abs lost some definition, but his arms swelled to the size of tree trunks. As sweat dripped down his body, his black wavy hair transformed into small curls in a stylish cut with shaved sides, while his underwear turned into gym shorts, and the tiny apartment room morphed into a spacious mansion living room.

While all this was happening and the power dominated Cherisse’s mind, she didn’t notice that her short hair, which had fallen out due to steroid use started to grow back in beautifull well manteined curls while her voice gained an airy melodious tone. As the former David grew bigger, she shrank, her powerful muscles becoming smaller but defined, while her glutes became curvier and her breasts softer. Then, as the monstrous off-season bodybuilder stood smiling in front of her, her clothes evaporated, leaving her in a tiny bikini that showcased all her perfect curves. Finnaly the whirlwind of power seemed to reach its peak before fading away forever while the reality reset.

The smile on the behemoth's face quickly vanished when he noticed his girlfriend posing in the middle of their living room.

“Can I ask what the hell you’re doing, Cherisse?”

“Babe… I… I thought you’d be back later.”

“I decided to surprise my girlfriend, and guess who’s getting surprised? Don’t tell me you’re back to that ridiculous idea of competing in Bikini Fitness. I’ve already been clear with you about that. You don’t need to work, especially not by exposing your body; I’m the one who takes care of all my wife’s needs.”

“Wife? What do you mean?”

“Well, that was the surprise I was gonna pull on you, but it looks like…”

“Stop being silly, I was rehearsing, yeah, but it was just for you, my love.”

“Now you’re talking like my future wife,” he replied, with his smile returning.

….

That weekend, Cherisse was bursting with joy. As her boyfriend parked the car, she rushed over to meet her old school friends, Brenda and Destiny, in the garden of the beautiful restaurant they class picked for the high school reunion. After some kisses, hugs, and excited squeals, Brenda looked at her curiously.

“Is that on your finger what I think it is?”

“Yup!!! He proposed to me!!”

“So, we’re finally gonna meet your boyfriend… sorry, your fiancé?”

“Yeah, look over there,” Cherisse said, making her friends look at the handsome specimen of a man strutting confidently towards them—300 pounds of pure muscle covered in a beutifull chocolate skin, wearing a light gray suit with a vest and a shirt whose last buttons could never stay closed, showing off a gorgeous chest. All of this was topped off by a rugged face that could make knees weak.

“Girls, this is Deshaun, my fiancé,” she said, knowing the others would be dying of envy.

Later, as her friends walked in, Deshaun pulled her close.

“Are you happy, my love? I know how important this reunion was for you.”

“Happy? I’m totally fucking ecstatic, babe. I showed those bitches who’s the best. I’ve got the best house, the best body, and the best man. What more could I want?”

#male tf #mind change #reality change #mental transformation #race change #gay to straight #unintended consequences

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blacktobackmesa · 5 months ago

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SO I MADE A PROOF OF CONCEPT.

music used: kirby's epic yarn, mort garson's plantasia

voices: my beautiful self

Transcript:

GORDON

“Am I the asshole if I yelled at a clown?” Now I’m gonna pre-empt here. I’m gonna say it first, nobody else gets the satisfaction: What’s Gordon doing yelling at a mirror? Ha ha. Ha ha ha ha.

BUBBY

What-- Gordon, don’t be so hard on yourself!

TOMMY

We’re not gonna call you a clown, Mister Freeman.

BENREY

Yeah, I like clowns.

GORDON

Is “I like clowns” your way of saying I’m not a clown? Or are you just saying it? Just saying it to say it? [Beat.]

Benrey, do you not like me?

[Beat.]

BENREY

Clowns are cool, I don’t know what else to tell you.

[SFX: The Banjo-Kazooie Jiggy Collection Jingle plays. This is Gordon’s stream donation alert.]

COOMER

Gordon, please tell us a story.

GORDON

So! “So I live in Brazil--”

[SFX: The Brazilian Football/soccer goal fanfare. An echoing voice shouts “BRASIL!” and is followed by upbeat music. The sound cuts off abruptly.]

GORDON

Thank you, Benrey. “I live in Brazil, and it’s a little common to have people in clown attire and makeup trying to sell you stuff at the subway entrance, and they can be a little annoying. They even started carrying a credit card machine so people can’t use the old excuse of ‘I don’t have any cash on me’.

DARNOLD

I love the wording of the singular credit card machine for all Brazilian clowns.

GORDON

[rereading]

“Started carrying a--” I didn’t even notice that.

COOMER

They’re sharing!

BUBBY

“When I was your age, we only had ONE credit card reader, and we had to go all the way to São Paulo to borrow it for ONE customer!”

TOMMY

That must be why they hang out at the train station!

BUBBY

Right! They have to travel!

GORDON

Come on, guys. Are you really gonna do this to someone who speaks English as their second language?

TOMMY

Oh no! We don’t want to make fun of them. We’re, we just like their words!

BENREY

English is hard. You gotta embrace when you say wrong shit. It’s like art.

COOMER

Gordon, we are creating derivative works from the words of the clown yeller.

GORDON

Alright, fair enough. “I was walking to the subway that I usually go to. It was early for me, nine in the morning. I was going to work because my boss asked me to go early so the cleaning lady had someone there.”

BUBBY

Nine A.M. is EARLY work hours in Brazil? What the hell are we doing here?

DARNOLD

If I showed up to the Mixology department at nine in the morning, I’d be demoted back down to working at the gift shop!

COOMER

Doctor Freeman was able to hold down his position in spite of his frequent tardiness!

DARNOLD

Doctor Freeman started the end of the world.

COOMER

Darnold, that sounds like a skill issue.

GORDON

[beginning with a raised voice to restore order]

“Keep in mind that I was at work until midnight the night before and was going to work until midnight again, so I was a little tired and thinking about my day.”

DARNOLD

You guys got to go home between shifts?

Okay, that-- that sounds a little closer to my work schedule.

BUBBY

GORDON

“Getting close to the subway, I saw the clown and-- [laughs]

[SFX: Gordon’s stream alert faintly goes off. It is followed by the Geraint TTS voice, which says “BRASIL CAMPEÃO DO MUNDO”.]

GORDON

--I saw the clown and immediately thought, ‘Oh fuck. He’s going to stop me’.”

COOMER

Gordon, I can award you one PlayCoin for every time I have heard that arrangement of words in that order.

GORDON

“‘He’s going to stop me to try to sell me stuff.’ So when I was approaching him, and he already started to talk before I even finished crossing the street, I was already putting my hand up and saying, ‘Sorry man, I’m good’.

BENREY

“No thanks. I already ate.”

GORDON

Exactly. “He tried to make me stop, even though I was on my third ‘dude, I’m good.’ And when he was still trying to make me stop, something came over me.”

BENREY

Lust.

GORDON

No.

Tommy, Darnold, Coomer and Bubby break into laughter. Gordon eventually laughs as well.

GORDON

No-- [clears throat] “Something came over me, and I just yelled, ‘DUDE!’ and looked at him while I was still walking.” Presumably in Portuguese, so the tone might be a little different from “Dude”.

DARNOLD

Does anyone here know how you say “dude” in Portuguese?

BENREY

You don’t.

TOMMY

Probably Mano.

GORDON

Chat says “cara or mano”. What was that, Tommy?

TOMMY

Mano.

GORDON

Mano. Good to know. “He looked fucking pissed, and when I was a few good steps away from him, he yelled: ‘I’M JUST WORKING! FUCK!’ And I yelled--”

TOMMY

He broke the clown code!

GORDON

--And I yelled back, ‘FUCK, AND I’M GOING TO WORK!”

BUBBY

A traditional call and response.

GORDON

And it closes with “Did I just create the Joker? Lol.”

DARNOLD

I dunno. I think the Joker would be pretty embarrassed if his entire backstory was getting yelled at once at the train station.

BUBBY

“You wanna know how I got these scars?”

TOMMY

Yeah. Brazilian Joker--

BUBBY

“From sharing one credit card reader!”

[SFX: Gordon’s stream alert goes off once again, followed by the TTS voice saying “Five months. Lust.”]

TOMMY

--he would be a lot cooler than that.

GORDON

So aside from that, is OP the asshole for yelling at a clown?

COOMER

I think they made a friend!

GORDON

You do? By yelling?

COOMER

These two working class heroes shared an important bonding moment about the difficulties of earning a living.

BUBBY

Yeah, some days you just need someone to scream the Fuck word at.

GORDON

Well, shit.

BUBBY

OP made that clown’s day.

GORDON

I’m convinced. Yeah, all agreed?

TOMMY

Yeah.

DARNOLD

Yeah, no harm done.

BENREY

It’s part of that circle of life.

GORDON

Well, there we go. Not the asshole.

COOMER

The real clown was capitalism.

[SFX: A fanfare noise plays. This is followed once again by the Brazil Football fanfare, this time played in full without a cutoff.]

#hlvrai #gordon streamman #voice performance #i dont have to sound like canon. i have to sound distinct enough that you know who is who.

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sulfies · 8 months ago

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Mermay Fic pt1

Ezio always felt bad about the small number of humble gondoliers he sent into the canale for a swim, he really did. He did try to apologize the first couple of times but honestly, he just did not have the time for it anymore. He usually did just toss them coins if anybody did walk up to him all angry the next day at the square.

And it truly was not that big of a deal, It's just water…

“Oh did you hear-”

Ezio picked up his freshly repaired boots from the apprentice of the cobbler when trained ears picked up on the two ladies gossiping about the latest in Venice.

“No wait he did not! The assassin?!”

Who? Did what? What did he get up to this time? Ezio nodded at the shop as he slowly walked closer getting into the earshot more to get the full story on his new supposed doings…

“Yes Yes! Elena saw it too! He was docked as he always is around those times, you know that man likes a schedule” The other woman nodded agreeing and Ezio held a sigh.

Stalling aren't we… get to the juicy bits woman. His foot tapped on the stone ground

“and suddenly the brute jumps down on him and throws him into the canale, doesn't even yell sorry or look back, just takes off with the gondola!”

The other woman did an offended gasp as Ezio finally also clocked what they were talking about

“And I normally like the assassin guy too! So I was shocked ofcourse, everyone was-”

He tilted his head remembering yesterday's run-ins, Yes maybe he did throw another one into the Canales torrents as he was on a chase but what was the big deal this time, if he got legs he can swim, it's not like the gondolier was-

“I mean what kind of a sane man throws a paralyzed man into the water and steals his boat!”

Oh…

The gondolier was Paralyzed...

Nothing is True everything is allowed so might as well toss a disabled towner into the water Ezio!

“Well was he all right? Is he injured?”

Yes was he? Ezio wanted to rush out to the woman and shake her asking if his victim was okay, what was his address and would he accept a sorry in payments.

“Thankfully no, but he refused to let us help him out…” The woman's tone took a curious tune. “It was weird but he was probably embarrassed and didn't want people to see… you know…” The hand gesture around the legs told what she meant and it only drew another stake at Ezios heart so Ezio took it as his cue to leave and look for the man.

Well… He fucked around too much and now has to beg this old dude for forgiveness….

He looked at the new boots in his hand… can't even give him these, great fuckup Ezio. Leo will laugh his ass off about this.

—------------------

It took him two days to track the man down, turns out when half the city is traversable via water everyone tries being a gondolier at least once, but this one has made a name for himself, which did not help Ezios conscience because all everyone said was;

“Oh, that man? yes, you can find him around here when the sun is up midday, very sweet and strange that one, always jokes with the others, nice to talk to.”

”Oh you mean him? Such a nice fella always chats to me about my day…”

”Paralyzed Gondolier…. ah you mean the nice one that hangs around here all day?”

So needless to say Ezio was sweating a bit but he was here to make things right!

His purse was heavier than usual today with an apology gift added into it, he walked the middle district scanning over any water he could see as he passed the bridges, he came to an opening of a small courtyard where people were sitting under the tree on benches and some street kids were playing around. It was one of those areas that had access to the water via stairs and docks. It was one of the busier yards since it had few shops around it too.

Ezio realized this was, in fact, the route he took 3 days ago, hopefully finding him will be easy, there can't be that many disabled gondola rowers. His eyes moved over the body of water, there were 5 gondoliers docked near just hanging about, 2 of them sitting on a dock near their boats. He tried to look for an old weak man but the one he did notice did not show up on his eagle vision at all.

When the same man also got up to stretch Ezio erased him off of possible victims.

Then he caught a flicker of gold light and his eyes zeroed into a golden bright figure on the left,

He blinked turning the vision on and off a couple of times...

”Ah cazzo, just my luck”

He didn't almost drown an old man who couldn't walk, he almost drowned one of the most handsome gondoliers in Venice.

#fanfic #ezio auditore #assassin's creed #desmond miles #no mermaids this chapter lol #next chapter will be Desmond pov #Idk if that dock actually exists act like it does for my sake plz lol

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writingduhh · 1 year ago

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Chuckle Sandwich || Shopping With Him (HC)

I had this idea while talking to my absolute bestie babe @lvrj4mie 😩 ILYSM

Im also taking requests or just any suggestions or ideas!! Thanks for reading!

❥ Jschlatt:

▷ Would rather die than go shopping… He only goes because he loves you.

▷ Holds all your bags and items you pick.

▷ Definitely will pull some skimpy or revealing clothing off the clothing rack, suggesting you try it on for him.

▷ Trying to encourage him to get outside his comfort zone (Only wearing shorts and sweatshirts 😭)

▷ After some time passes he actually begins to enjoy himself. Well, he enjoys spending quality time with you.

▷ I can see him sharing random yet entertaining stories with you as you walk around from store to store.

▷ He absolutely insists on treating you to at least one thing. Whether it’s a new pair of pants, some new shoes, or even just a pretzel from the cafeteria.

▷ Having to stop his impulse buying of stupid or useless things.

“Y/n look!” Schlatts voice calls, catching the attention of a passersby or two.

“Shh. What is it?” You playfully hush, walking over to where he stood, investigating the shelves.

Suddenly he pulled out the most ridiculous looking monkey replica (the golden ball monkey lmao

“What is THAT?!”

“It’s a beautiful golden balled monkey.” He grins, happily showing off his find.

Together you both shared a laugh. Assuming he’d put the item down you began to walk over to the next shop. To your surprise he didn’t follow you. Turning around you saw him motioning towards the register as he stood in kind.

“Jay, what are you doing? That’s expensive for such a silly thing.”

“Don’t worry y/n, we’re rich!” He jokingly responds (he would say this)

“Schlatt, are you seriously going to buy it? What are you going to do with it?”

“I’ll take him everywhere with me! I’ll tuck him into bed and kiss him goodnight.” He excitedly explains.

You can’t help but smile as you let out a small sigh.

“If you really want it, go for it.”

▷ He definitely makes sure you stop at the cafeteria for some lunch or just to taste test some snacks.

❥ Ted:

▷ Such a gentleman. He holds all the doors open for you, holds your bags, offers to pay (even though you politely refuse)

▷ He’s Low-key quite fashionable. He’d be helping you pick out trendy clothes and even help you put together cute outfits

▷ Always suggesting things for you to try on. He loves to see you happy and confident in the new clothes.

▷ Enjoys trying things on himself as well. He’d definitely throw in a crazy outfit just to get your reaction.

▷ Definitely takes this opportunity to use the Photo Booth or at least get some cute and funny pictures with the two of you

▷ I can honestly see him being the type who enjoys people watching.

▷ You sit in the cafeteria together sharing some food as you watch people walk past, making up little stories about their lives.

“Ok ok, what about him?” Ted questions, motioning towards the passerby.

“Uh, I think he is currently in a big fight with his partner. He’s definitely trying to find them a gift or something… I’m not very good at the game. You go. ” You reply.

“I thought it was a great story. Hmm ok that dude right there. He’s actually undercover right now. He’s an fbi agent called… 770. There is a huge heist going on right now in the store below us.” He seriously remarks.

“Why are you so good at this game.” You playfully sigh.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get it eventually.” He chuckles, placing a kiss in the back of your hand.

▷ Makes you do a try on haul the second you get home, mixing and matching every possible outfit

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quixotical-lymbo · 6 months ago

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Warnings/Tags: Just some tooth-rotting fluff Word Count: 500+ words

Wow! You and MK are dating!

Did he make the first move or you? It depends because of how dense MK can be at times. If you give him a lot, and I mean a LOT, of hints then he'll eventually get it and perhaps make the first move. On the other hand, if he doesn't get it then I can imagine that it's you who took the first step in y'all's relationship.

Where do y'all usually do dates? Pigsy's shop, the anti-gravity arcade, and your rooms. Basically the entire city is y'alls playground. On rare occasions, MK takes you to the places he's had adventures at to show off and tell stories of the perils he's faced.

Gifts? Only for special occasions like valentines day, anniversaries, birthdays, or when MK wants to apologize to you for something he did.

PDA? He won't be drooling all over you, but even if you like PDA or not he'll unknowingly display casual shows of affection without even realizing that you two are in public. It just feels natural for him to be affectionate with you, public be damned. Cheek kisses, hand holding/squeezes, and even a spinning hug that ends with the two of you on the ground laughing are all fair game to him.

First kiss? Truth be told, MK would be the one to initiate it after the first date. The kiss would be quick, rushed, and show that he's a bit inexperienced in this aspect. Watch out for him knocking his forehead against yours.

How he would be with a partner: Sweet and attentive, which is very rare considering how distracted MK can be at times. Like, sure he could sometimes forget your anniversary or what flavor of ice cream you want–but MK always makes up for it through groveling and kissing your feet (literally did it one time, but you put a stop to that right then and there).

MK leaves the spider killing to you. Poor boy can't even think straight when in the presence of one.

Wouldn't miss the chance to be annoying and chase you around your home/apt. Asking for cuddles whenever he comes back from a long day of training, working, and getting dirty.

MK seems like the type to have intentionally cringy nicknames for his partner, things like 'your majesty', 'My heart and soul', 'cutie patootie', or worst of all 'pookie'.

He always has you on his mind, whether at the forefront or back-burner. There's always something during his missions/adventures that reminds him of you and what he's fighting for.

How he acts around them vs others: MK is very caring towards his friends and even kind/somewhat tolerable towards strangers/potential foes. He's generally a very casual, happy-go-lucky, lovable dude that can be a bit naive at times. Now, with you? He can act the same compared to others, but the finer details suggest otherwise—always making sure you're ok and well fed, a lot more handsy and all up in your grill, making sure to have some time put aside in his schedule for you, and obviously the piles and piles of affection he'll shower on you at random times.

🍜 - I do not give permission for anyone to translate, copy, republish, or plagiarize any of my written works. I provide no permission for any of my literary works to be used in artificial intelligence. sparkle banner(s) by @adornedwithlight !!

#lmk x reader #mk x reader #lmk mk x reader #lego monkie kid #anon ask #anon request #thanks anon!#dating headcanons

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attapullman · 5 months ago

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The Boys Are Back / Whodunit? Origin Story

Summary: When best friends and childhood sleuths Bob Floyd and Mickey Garcia grow up, everything seems less fun. Thankfully things are about to completely change for these two hometown goofs.

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: 18+ as always, language, 80s inaccuracies, sci-fi opinions do not reflect that of the author

A Note From Mo: As would be the only appropriate gift for providing the inspiration for Whodunit?, happy birthday @bobgasm! Thank you for loving these two as much as me and helping make their story as fun as it is. Wishing you the best birthday on New Zealand time (we'll be celebrating America time as well, don't worry 😉)

origin story / prologue / whodunit? masterlist

“Are you really trying to convince me that Return of the Jedi is better than The Wrath of Khan?” Mickey couldn’t wipe the look of disgust off his face at this zit-faced teenager at the counter. The two fairly recent box office hits were a common disagreement, and this kid came in thinking he knew all that and a bag of chips.

“Force lightning? Luke trying to redeem his father? Dude, George Lucas made the last two movies true masterpieces, cinematic perfection!”

Rolling his eyes, aware that this knucklehead has no clue who he’s going against (all the best film geeks in town knew to not go against Fanboy Garcia and his sci-fi knowledge), Mickey dropped the copy of Raiders of the Lost Ark into a plastic bag along with the receipt.

“The Wrath of Khan brought people to tears. Invested us deeper into the characters we’ve loved for years, grown up with. Spock’s death shocked an entire nation, no doubt about it. And don’t be stupid, Vulcan nerve pinch defeats Force lightning every time.” He slides the bag across the counter with a scoff. “Movie is due back Tuesday. Come back with some real ammunition next time, airhead.”

Cheeks red, the teen grabs his bag and scuttles out of the Blockbuster. The bell chimes and suddenly the shop is empty.

While the access to new releases and movies in the break room were great perks, Mickey was so over this job. The blunderhead teens with their gnarly opinions, the bratty moms who always complain about the return dates. It’s just renting a movie for a week, not that complicated. When was his cousin going to get back to him about that maintenance gig at city hall? The sci-fi fan slumped against the counter and continued watching the copy of Legend they just got in.

Across town, Bob was also struggling with his work day. When was everyone going to realize he didn’t set the price of parts? He wasn’t even really a mechanic, just a guy who needed a summer job in high school and never stopped coming in. A star employee, he enjoyed the puzzle of putting components together and the purr of a perfectly oiled engine.

It may not have been his dream job, but the free parts for his ’65 Mustang and the content silence he and his uncle worked in wasn’t horrible.

Two more customers come in and try the haggle the price. Neither are impressed with the calm way Bob explains the cost of labor and parts, rubbing his greasy palms impatiently on his coveralls as he breaks down why he doesn’t work for free. And when he asks if they’d like him to undo the work to cut the cost, pocketbooks are pulled out and he’s got money in his pocket for beers later.

His uncle is long gone by the time Bob locks up the shop with a heavy padlock on the garage door. His boots scuff in the dirt as he makes his way to the Mustang, her blue paint shining in the late summer sun. She was stunning.

The breeze whipped through his hair - too long for his mother’s liking - as he drove across town. Mickey was just opening the door to The Alibi as he parked on the street. The best friends tip their heads in greeting.

“Bobby.”

“Fanboy.”

The two slap their hands together. Palms first, then two slaps from the back, before looping around to fist bump. A handshake from elementary school that somehow has carried on twenty years. After a few drinks a shimmy will make its way into the mix.

They take up residence at the bar, the same spot they’ve occupied a few nights a week since they walked out of that Navy enlistment meeting and never looked back. The bartender always knows to hand out whatever’s cheapest unless they’re holding paychecks.

“How many people confuse Star Wars and Star Trek today?” The cutting glare Mickey gives him says it all. Probably not the best time to make a Darth Khan joke.

Lost in the clatter and whoops of the bar, the best friends mull over their meaningless hourly jobs and contemplate the meaning of ‘the man’. Bob’s leather jacket hangs off the stool back, the sticky air of the bar clinging to the twentysomethings’ skin. One beer becomes two, two becomes three as the weekend arrives.

A loose curl hanging over his forehead, Mickey makes eyes contact with a babe across the room. He’d happily spend the evening with those beautiful eyes. The only perk of this dingy bar is it’s the only one in town, and a mix of old classmates and new-in-towns keep the dating game fresh.

Bob himself does a quick look around at the night’s prospects, doing a double take. No, it couldn’t be. When did the police captain’s daughter get back into town? She shoots an amiable smile and nod back before turning to her own drink and friends.

Mickey raises his eyebrows at his bud. Bob shoves him off his stool on the way to the bathroom.

As the night progresses, only the young and the young at heart (and alcoholics) are still in their seats at The Alibi. The best friends are a handful of beers deep, leaning across the bar to chat with Mickey’s childhood neighbor, Tom - a gruff guy with a beer gut and a penchant for belching when he laughs. They love making him laugh.

“I tell you two about the rocks that keep showing up on my doorstep?”

Mysterious rocks? The boys lean in closer, their light denim-clad pelvises nearly over the bar top. Shaking their heads, all ears, they urge Tom for more information.

“Been happenin’ for months now. At first I didn’t think anything of it. Animals maybe? But they keep getting bigger and bigger. Tripped over one the size of a melon yesterday, stupid fucking rock. Belchhhh.” The boys snicker into their beers. “Can’t figure out who’s doing it. Gonna end up breaking my front step with a mountain one of these days.”

The boys exchange a look as they contemplate the conundrum. Who would just leave rocks on Tom’s doorstep? Wouldn’t it get old after a few weeks? And rocks of all things?

“It’s not that big of town. Who could it be?” Mickey cocks his head to the side. Tom has always been a nice guy. A little oblivious, but harmless. “Your ex-wife back in town?”

The bearded man shakes his head, scratching the underside of his belly as he realizes it’s time to call it a night.

As Tom goes to pay his tab, Phil, who’s been manning the bar at The Alibi since before LBJ was in office, spoke up. “You two solved mysteries as kids, yeah?”

The young men give him a perturbed look, confused why he’d bring up their silly sleuthing games from decades before. Hesitant, Bob nods. Who could forget the years spent hunched in random hiding spots, notebooks and binoculars at the ready. Mickey still had a scar from falling out of the second floor stairwell in the community center.

Tom is delighted, his drunken eyes lighting up. “Any chance you two could take a whack at figuring out who’s leaving all these fucking rocks on my doorstep? There’s a twenty in it for ya.”

It’s been…years since they last solved anything. Petty crimes from other classmates, some neighborhood drama, but that was before puberty. Did they still have the gift?

“Sure man, why not?” Shoulders are shrugged, hands are shook tipsily. They’d stop by in the morning before their shifts. Natural curiosity has them dying to see the assortment of rocks.

Tom heads out and the boys clink the necks of their bottles together, enjoying the last sip of the night. Who knew where this was going, but they were always up for a challenge.

A week later, the two returning sleuths are hunched over behind a bush with a pack of pretzels and a six-pack, mud caking Mickey’s new Air Forces. There’s cigarette stubs in the dirt and they’ve been arguing over the best flavor of Fanta for an hour.

In the wee hours of the morning Tom’s next door neighbor sneaks into his garden to place a rock roughly the size of a pumpkin on the front step. The shared fence issue Tom thought to be resolved? Definitely not.

Another neighborhood drama solved. Twenty dollars in their pocket.

But with the solve comes a burning itch that Mickey can’t scratch. Keeps him up at night, lives in the corner of his brain while he rents movies to bored-face teens. A blazing fire that can only be tended, not extinguished.

“What if we started our own detective agency?”

Bob spat out his ginger ale on Mrs. Garcia’s freshly cleaned granite countertop. Was Fanboy tripping?

“C’mon man, why not? Put up some flyers and solve whatever rinky dink shit comes up in our free time? Make some extra cash? We might actually be able to move out on our own. Don’t you want freedom?”

They’d been bitching about it for months, wanting to get out of their childhood bedrooms and actually do something with their lives. So the Navy wasn’t for them, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t serve their community in other ways. Maybe this was the answer to their unsure futures.

Bob grabbed his best friend’s hand, the decade-old handshake turning into a brotherly hug. “Just promise me we won’t get into anything too crazy. I like my Sundays on the couch.”

In six months they’d raised the cash for their own apartment, a small two bed in the dusky pink modular building off Main Street. In a year the amateur sleuths had been in the local paper twice. And two years and several police case assistances later, they stood across from the police captain’s daughter, not a smile in sight.

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bedbellyandbeyond · 1 year ago

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Check In On Your Friends

(Story Post)

“Hej mine kære venner! Jeg kommer med gaver!”

Theo was lounging in bed when he heard the elf raucously burst into his apartment. He was tired, hungry, irritated, and now bigger than he could’ve imagined. The last thing he needed was noise, but he was a bit surprised to hear Korsy was back from his trip.

“What?” Theo groaned, turning over to try and sit up. His stomach stuck out like a torpedo now and sat between his legs, webbed with stretch marks and red from minor rashes.

Henderson let the elf into the room and Korsy beamed, carrying a shopping bag with him. “I said ‘Hello, my dear friends! I come bearing gifts!’”

“Ah…” Theo yawned and waved Henderson over. “Do I have any snacks left?”

Henderson was already prepared and brought him a plate of crackers and fruit. “I just got some groceries today.”

Theo received the plate delightedly while Henderson sat down beside him. “Merci… Ugh, what would I do without you…”

“Shit, dude. Can you even get up with that much baby?” Korsy commented, unable to fathom his friend’s shape.

“Not really…” Theo shrugged. “I’m officially on bed rest.”

“No kidding.” Korsy put his hands on his hips in bewilderment. “Shouldn’t you be on, like, hospital bed rest?”

Theo sighed. “That’s what the doctor’s office said, but now both my usual doctors are away for whatever reason, and there’s just this one doctor there now, who I’ve heard is a whack job, so I would rather stay home. Non, merci.”

“Ah, Dr Gardi’s not bad. But I see your point.” Korsy lifted his bag. “Anyway, souvenirs for you.”

“No way it’s been two months…” Theo said, checking his side table alarm clock for the date.

“No, we had to come back a little early, but I’m leaving again tomorrow morning,” Korsy said as he started rummaging through his bag. “Anyway, I can’t give you all the details, but I did go ‘home’ and I ‘borrowed’ a few things. Catch.”

Henderson jumped a little when a metal object was tossed to him. He caught it and realised it was a gold bracelet of some kind. “What’s this?”

“Sun elf bangle. Drow probably stole it. So, eh. Yours now.”

Henderson was shocked at first as the moment he slipped the bangle on, it adjusted to the size of his wrist. Worried it might be stuck, he pulled at it, but lit up seeing it resize again and slip off easily. “…Whoa. That’s incredible. Theo, look! It fits me so well!”

“It does,” Theo complimented. “It suits you.”

Henderson beamed. “Thanks, Korsy.”

“Don’t mention it. My uncle’s wife doesn’t need it anyway.” Korsy pulled something else from his bag, but this time handed it nicely to Theo. “For you.”

Korsy had handed him a little figure of an elven soldier carved in walnut with silver details. It carried a bow and looked noble. “That’s sweet, Korsy! Wow,” Theo said, admiring the figure. “Thanks.”

“Also, here.” Korsy handed them each something bundled in paper. “My aunt made these traditional elven buns.”

Theo put the figure down quickly so he could take the buns. “Oh, I can smell it already! I love fresh bread.”

“So, she’s you ‘aunt’ now?” Henderson questioned. “After calling her your uncle’s wife…”

“Different women, same uncle.” Korsy shrugged. “Divorce is weird… Karla’s still my aunt though, even if not by marriage.”

“So, why’d you have to come home early?” Theo asked before biting into his bun.

“That’s classified…” Korsy leaned against the bedroom door and sighed. “You guys should really consider some APID jobs. It’d be so much easier to talk to you about this kind of stuff if you have clearance.”

“Working on it,” Henderson said, and Theo nodded but he couldn’t speak through mouthfuls of bread. “Since you’re back briefly, have you checked in on your little…situationship?”

“It’s not a situationship. We’re just friends,” Korsy said. “And no, I don’t think I should bother him right now. I don’t have a lot of time anyway.”

“You made time for us,” Theo pointed out. “I thought you cared about this guy.”

“I don’t! I mean, I do, like friends,” Korsy tried to answer. “It’s just too complicated. He knows I’m away for two months, so he won’t be missing anything.”

Theo and Henderson both exchanged looks and frowned.

“You have feelings for him,” Henderson said.

Theo nodded along. “You like him.”

Korsy shook his head quickly. “Don’t make this something it’s not. I don’t like him like that. And I know he doesn’t see me that way.”

“Mmhm.” Henderson gave his gift bun to Theo and got up. “Korsy, are you looking for a romantic relationship?”

“No, I don’t do relationships,” Korsy said confidently.

“Why not? Are you aromantic?” Henderson asked.

“Ooh!” Theo got excited. “I’ve never known anyone aromantic before.”

“Guys, I’m not aromantic!” Korsy said. “I just don’t have time for that right now. My job is too important, and it doesn’t have room for settling down and having kids.”

“Aw, you want kids?” Theo cooed.

“That’s not what I’m saying!”

“You’re the one who brought it up,” Henderson pointed out.

“Wait, is this the same guy you had a pregnancy scare with?” Theo asked. “Oh, so that whole thing has you worried about your future and fatherhood and stuff. Je comprends.”

“You don’t comprends shit,” Korsy said.

Theo furrowed his brow and motioned to his heavily pregnant belly. “Je comprends.”

Henderson chuckled and wrapped his arms around Theo’s torso to rub his belly. He continued with Korsy’s dilemma. “Anyway, you say your job doesn’t have room for that, but I feel like you’re giving it too much credit. Does APID not provide time regular time off?”

Korsy sighed. “It does, but—”

“Does it not provide vacation time?” Henderson continued.

“Yes. Obviously.”

“Do you use your vacation time?”

“Um…” Korsy shrugged. “Here and there.”

Theo jumped in. “Does APID provide paternity leave and partner benefits?”

“Yes. It’s the government,” Korsy said. He motioned to them. “We have the same benefits. But I’m away all the time for months, and I am often putting myself in harms way. I don’t need to subject a partner to that.”

“You know there are people who are comfortable with that, right?” Henderson reminded. “You know, military spouses and such.”

“That’s their choice, but it’s not what I would want for a partner,” Korsy said. “I’m not ready to put that on someone.”

“But it sounds like you do want that at some point,” Theo said. “If not now.”

“It’s not something I can want, okay?” Korsy was starting to get worked up. “Can we move on from this? Please, I just wanted to drop off gifts and hang out a little bit.”

Theo sighed. “Okay. Do you want to play some games or something? I just got Baldur’s Gate 3.”

Korsy frowned. “The D&D video game?”

“Yeah. You wanna make a character or something?”

Korsy rolled his eyes. “And be what, a drow elf rogue?”

Henderson shrugged. “You don’t have to be.”

Korsy opened his arms. “You know how I feel about D&D.”

“Ah, right, sorry…” Theo tilted his head. “So… You wanna play Tears of the Kingdom or Mortal Kombat or someth—”

Korsy crossed his arms. “No, let’s play Baldur’s Gate I guess.”

Theo grinned. “Really? You won't be offended?”

Korsy shrugged and found himself a seat on the edge of the bed. “Well, I have to try it out to see how bad the representation is, don't I? And, is that a PS5? I haven't tried one yet.”

“Oh, you definitely have to try it,” Henderson encouraged.

“Yeah, here.” Theo tapped his side table. “My controllers are in the drawer.”

Korsy retrieved a controller. “Alright, nice. So, are drow good or bad?”

“Eh, it depends.”

“Hm. Alright, so how do I make a drow rogue?”

“We said you don't have to be a drow rogue...”

“I want to.”

“D’accord, d’accord…”

[Disclaimer: This author does not know Danish. If you do and this is bad, lemme know! I'd love to fix it. I do know French, but if somehow that's fucked too, lemme know.]

#lore #Korsy #Theo #Henderson #mpreg #tmpreg #mpreg belly

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aleksa-sims · 13 hours ago

Text

RL Story

Because I was angry at N., I did not accompany him to his family today. Instead I met Sandra, to spend his money -we're going shopping! 🤷‍♀️😬 S. told me, that she is having a hard time finding a new job. Before going on maternity leave, she worked in a dental surgery. She’s a dentist’s assistant. Just like Bianca!! I thought I’d ask B. for a favor, so she can help S. get a job at her dentist.

While I told Sandra about Bianca, she started interrupting me.

Sandra: Did you have plans to see Alex today?? Or-

Me: Alex?... No!

Sandra: Don’t you see him? That’s Alex coming at us!

Me: You’re damn right! That’s him! ... Oh, there he is.... Hi, Alex, nice to see you, it's been ages, dude! 😬😳

Alex: Huh?... Holy shit! LEXI! 😦... Sorry I-... I have to go! I-, I gotta run! I can’t talk to you. Bye!

Sandra: 🤣🤣 Haha .. wtf???

Me: IDK?? 😄😄 Do I smell or something? 🤣 He’s literally running away from me. 🤷‍♀️

Sandra: He can’t talk to you? ?.. Either he’s on some heavy shit, or Daniel has something to do with it?

Me: Alex doesn't do drugs! And Daniel didn’t seem to be mad at me, when I saw him 3 weeks ago.... Agh, whatever! Now let’s go spend Nico’s money. 🤭😈

Sandra: Didn’t you say you wanted to spend his money?

Me: That’s what I’m doing! 🤨

Sandra: You buy, him clothes, but what about you? And actually you’re doing him a favor. He should go shopping himself, you’re not his servant.

Me: Nico would never go shopping voluntarily. Besides, I want my boyfriend to look good, yk? Tbh, N.'s no style at all! He doesn’t give a shit about it. If it were up to him, he would prefer to walk around in shorts 24/7. All the stuff he has, I got and chose for him.

Sandra: But who used to buy his clothes before he met you? I mean, he still managed to look handsome, as far as I remember.

Me: He, is handsome, but his style/taste sucks, S.! 🤷‍♀️

Sandra: Anyway. What should I give my bf for Christmas?.. My ex, I always got the same thing.

Me: Let me guess! You gave him a black suit. 😄😄

Sandra: Ha-ha! 🤨😒.... Well, I admit it. At first I found his black suits somehow.... interesting, but he was overdoing it.

In the end she found a gift for Dario (don’t worry, it wasn’t a black suit, her "suit guy" is past & still in jail!). I also bought some things for myself and Lucas. Well, and for Nico. 😒 Speaking of my Baby, Lucas was with Nico today. They went to N.'s Dad and to Melanie. Without me! I didn't want to! But I was so worried about my little one. He had never been alone with Nico before. So I expected the worst. Let’s see how their trip was today? But before I went home, I met Bianca, to give her Sandra’s documents. B. will hand over Sandra’s application to her boss with a personal recommendation. Hope it works for S.!!

Previous/Next

#ts4 #sims 4 #sims 4 story #rl story #myrlgameplay #also #what's wrong with Alex?

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lorre-logic · 4 months ago

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If you could time travel and spend one day with Peter Lorre what would you want to do? 🤔

Time travel??? With my skin color??😭😭😭

I don't think that'll go well at aaaaall. Not because I think Peter Lorre would have any kind of prejudice (I actually heard many lovely stories about him and with people of color) however I feel like there's nothing fun I could do with him in whatever decade I'd time travel to. It just would be limited. If that wasn't an issue then I'd love to go on a shopping spree with him and yap about all kinds of nonsense as we pick out outfits.

Instead I'm going to suggest a different scenario. Lorre time travels to this time period and hang out with him. Mainly because I just wanna make him gawk at modern things.

As much as I said I'd love to traumatize him with the Ren and Stimpy Adult Party Cartoon, I actually wouldn't do it. I don't want to send him back to the grave twice. Though the desire for it is still there. I also would avoid telling him about his sad fate. He deserves to have a good time.

I'd just want to let him know that he's still very liked and show him what the current gen of Lorre fans are doing with the interwebz. He deserves to know that people are still being introduced to him and fall in love with his movies to this day. Also of course infodump about the lore of Lorre caricatures because I have no self control and I MUST share about the cartoon fish that had rotted my brain for the past 3 years and make him watch the Slappy's solo episode Slappy Daze.

Also show him all of the other Lorre caricatures but I'm picking the ones I think won't traumatize him. So obviously no adult party cartoon, and no strip club lorre caricature. Also gift him a copy of The Animated Peter Lorre, Slappy's character sheet, and various other things. Perhaps customize a tweety bird plush to make it that Tweety Ugarte from Carrotblanca. Maaaybe gift him some antibiotics too for his chronic lung infection and warn him about cigarettes and about the dude who squandered his money (gotta change space and time so I can get a few more years of Lorre movies ya kno)

Tbh that aside, I'm not sure exactly what else I'd lik to share with him? I'm not that talkative irl so I'd feel like I'd get overwhelmed and forget anything I'd want to say. I think I'd just die happy if I got to shake his hand tbh. I'd need another lorre stan to be there for emotional support and probably do most of the talking for me. I'd have more fun listening in and studying him like a specimen from afar. I need hair samples for...scientific purposes <3333

#Averageslappyenjoyer #ask #Lorre logic log #Peter lorre #Also no unfortunately strip club lorre parody does not strip :((#We've been robbed #I think his name is bobby hyde but I'm going off the names in the credits

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onmyyan · 2 years ago

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Can you please make more Marco's headcanons like I bet he has a weapon collection

TW'S: YANDERE THEMES, MURDER MENTION, BONES AS A GIFT, MARCOS IS A WARNING HIMSELF LMAO (NOT EDITED)

S'more Marcos Hc's

Absolutely has a weapons collection and he names every single one he gets his grubby little hands on.

His guns are all custom made and he has this set of neon throwing knives, razor sharp and deadly.

His creepy little warehouse is a lot less creepy on the inside, posters of his favorite movies and bands litter the walls, sure their spattered with blood but I digress, the training dummies have spray painted smiley faces and when he gets bored he likes to see just how many knives can fit in one face.

He's the best at killing and it shows, has gotten paid to kill twice now and loved it.

And with both of those phat checks he was able to spend time doing his favorite thing, doting on you.

Once bought one of those really cool looking swords from this sketchy shop downtown and tried to decapitate a guy with it but when he brought the weapon down on the poor dudes neck it breaks like a Lego set and they just stand there in this painfully awkward silence.

He of course has to shoot him so no one ever hears of his embarrassment.

Has a few gnarly scars on his legs from his early skateboarding days, if Manny bet him he couldn't grind down their highschools 25ft stair railing he absolutely does it, even though he'd only just got the board that morning.

Had a kill bill phase where he kept trynna pluck people's eyes out like Uma Thurman did the blonde shawty in the trailer.

He the type to silently sway with you in the kitchen at some ungodly hour, his hand on your hips, humming a song he doesn't know the lyrics to.

Stops mid sentence a lot just cuz he can't wrap his head around someone as incredible as you being his.

The biggest, goofiest smile on his face let's you know he's lost in lala land and hasn't heard the last 30 seconds of your conversation

But you find it hard to be mad when he's drawing hearts into your skin and staring into your eyes with so much love it catches you off guard.

Wants matching tattoos but the idea of someone getting that close to you makes his skin itch so that won't happen until he can do it himself.

Him and Manny have weekly hang outs where they each dish and gossip about their individual darlings.

His twin is the only other man he'd trust you to be alone with, and it's not a lack of faith in you, so much as it is a lack of faith in the rest of the world.

His older brothers are no exception to this rule, the rare times you do meet with them Marcos keeps it short and sweet, and he never leaves your side.

If you're a morbid little gremlin like he is, he will absolutely gift you the bones of his latest kill (after a deep cleaning ofc) he tells you they're just super realistic replicas 👀 and you have no idea it's the scumbag who hit on you a few weeks ago, nothing too serious just a finger bone or piece of skull.

Wants to get married yesterday, likes dropping subtle hints like,

"hm our ring fingers looks kinda empty👀" or

"Just hypothetically - like totally not serious but between these two venues which one screams happily ever after? 👀"

As much as his playboy past would lead you to believe he's the noncommittal type, you are his heart and soul, and he'd rather gut himself in a dirty street gutter then be with anyone but you.

The second he realizes he loves you he's got it in his mind that you're endgame, he will be your loving husband and you will be buried together.

Sends you those deep-fried semi scary memes and TikTok's when it's 3AM and he knows you aren't sleep.

He knows because he cloned your phone and can constantly see what you're doing.

Reads romance novels for ideas on how to well, romance you, because he heard you mention once that you loved how they portray love in the stories.

Sprays your perfume in the room when you're at school/work/away from him long enough and it helps to quell his possessiveness

Just barely though because you mention lunch and whoop look who's showing up, food in hand and mentally manifesting you say fuck it and just go home with him.

Sometimes he has these night terrors where you're just gone and he wakes up crying, chest heaving from the heavy pit that had formed, and god forbid you're not in bed when he wakes up because he needs to be held, needs to lay his ear on your chest and hear you're still there, still with him.

Tries to make you breakfast in bed once and gives you both food poisoning but on the bright side you stay in bed beside him all day and he finds all the running back and forth to the bathroom totally worth it.

You throw on one of his shirts in a hurry one morning and he is transfixed, talking absolutely gobsmacked by how tantalizing you look when you're completely surrounded by him.

Low-key sabotages your wardrobe by hiding your shirts when he knows you're in a rush just so have to wear something of his.

"Sorry baby, no clue where that pesky shirt ran off to buuut I just so happen to have this here wonderfully made Versace button up of mine that really makes your eyes pop :) how lucky is that huh?"

Sprays it with cologne the night before so if any mf gets too close they smell him.

Can't say no to you, like at all.

Type of mf to throw his stupidly expensive jacket on the floor so you don't have to step in a puddle because he seen it in a movie once. (You could have just avoided the puddle but he looked so proud of himself as he held your hand to jump over it you had to indulge him)

Horny drunk but also a super lovey dovey drunk.

Loves taking you to concert's, especially when his favorite metal bands are playing, being surrounded by the music he loves is only enhanced when he looks down and sees you enjoying it too.

Talks in his sleep, 50% of the time its terrifying, nonsensical, ramblings but the other half is all about you, even when he's unconscious, you're on his mind.

#yananswers #anon submission #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #yandere oc x reader #marcos delmont x reader #yandere oc marcos #marcos x reader

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mermaidsirennikita · 7 months ago

Text

ARC REVIEW: Not Another Love Song by Julie Soto

4.5/5. Releases 7/17/2024.

Heat Index: 8/10

Vibes: rivals to lovers, celebrity classical musicians (?), "I wanna fuck you so bad it makes me look stupid"

Gwen Jackson is a naturally gifted violinist, having been taught by shop owner Mabel. Graduating from playing for tips on the subway to being offered first chair in the Manhattan Pops orchestra means fulfilling a dream. Not so happy about it is cello player and musical prodigy Xander Thorne--who happens to be a member of a band Gwen was (is) a fan of. But she's a fan no longer, sensing Xander's resentment... and something else. As the two are inevitably drawn to each other's talent--among other things--they have to figure out whether their blossoming relationship is more important than their long term goals.

OOOOH, this one hit. As someone who doesn't know much about classical music (honestly, a big question of mine was: is the fandom around famous classical musicians this intense? Like, I believe that it is, I've just never experienced it) I was sucked in by the passion in the story and the way Julie Soto seamlessly blended Gwen and Xander's obsession with music into their growing fixation on each other. There's a delicious tension in the first half of the book, flitting between anger and irritation and kinship and desire. And once it bubbles over... whew.

I really enjoyed Forget Me Not. Not Another Love Song has made me a fan. I'm ready for whatever Julie Soto writes next, because this is what I want from a contemporary romance: a sense of reality heightened by drama (and angst), high heat, and FURIOUS passion. This is a good time.

Quick Takes:

--Dude. I may not be very knowledgeable about classical music, but I do know that it should be properly utilized as a Sexy Device in romance novels. (And to be real? In fiction, as a general rule.) This book may utilize classical music in the sexiest way possible. Like, often when I read early reviews going "the X scene!!! omg omg!!" I kind of expect to be let down. Not because the scenes are bad, but because they're so hyped.

The cello scene? In this novel? Lives up to the hype. Like, more on that later, but... It's not just about the physical things that happened when Gwen and Xander play. It's also about their focus one each other when they're supposed to be playing, the way she in particular drives him to distraction. I will say--the rivalry stuff lasts longer than the true resentment. It becomes pretty clear, pretty quickly that Gwen doesn't really hate Xander. And that Xander wants to fuck Gwen's brains out.

But uh, I was not upset about that development. I feel like a lot of authors try to pull off "seething sexual tension" and fail. This was an absolute win. I know in my heart that if I saw these two playing in real life, she would be desperately trying to pretend she didn't notice him; and he would be playing his ass off while ROCK. HARD.

--All that aside, I also think that this actually feels like two people in their early to mid twenties falling in love? Like, the finances are probably off, but you kind of have to handwave some capitalist hellscape stuff to set a contemporary romance novel in a big city in this day and age... But the way they act, the mistakes they make, the exuberance they both have for falling in love, the DUMB HORNY moments... it all read right to me.

I also appreciate that Xander, for all that he is a hot and talented dude by whom Gwen is intimidated at first (until she isn't) and with whom she is infatuated, still strikes me as a dude. Like, he's gifted and he's deep and he has mommy issues like crazy and manipulative entities in his life. But a lot of how he reacts to things--it may not be rational, but it is human, especially for someone who's really still figuring his life out. He's a mess! And that's okay! Sometimes he and Gwen don't make the right decisions in their relationship, but that doesn't mean the relationship is broken beyond repair.

--There's some really juicy familial and professional drama beyond the romance, and one thing I loved is that there isn't a clear "good side" or "bad side". Some people have their shitty moments because to be human is to be intermittently shitty, but not inherently, wholly bad; some people just choose to be shitty all the time, and they aren't on designated sides. There isn't a single perfect option when the choices are presented to our leads.

There's a lot of gray, basically. And I like living in the gray of a book.

--Julie Soto is setting up her own universe, and I'm seeing the places these characters could go. It's not just about setting up future books, though; it's also about creating a community for her leads.

The Sex:

UGH. This book was hot. Like, it's honestly a relief when I read a contemporary romance novel that's this sexy. Yes, there is the cello scene, and much "then I will sit here, consumed with lust until for the rest of the evening". But there is a lot more. I feel like this is one of the hotter tradpub contemporaries I've read in a while. They're all over each other, they're vocal, there is a scene in which things are done while people are on the phone...

I'll definitely be rereading some of those scenes.

In conclusion, Not Another Love Song is fun, swoonworthy, and passionate. It's exactly what you want an author's second novel to be--topping the first, while maintaining all the things you loved about it. I'm so excited to see what Julie does next.

Thanks to Netgalley and Forever for providing me with a copy of this book. All thoughts and opinions are my own.

#romance novel blogging #romance novels #book recs #book reviews #books #arc reviews #netgalley

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deadend-if · 5 months ago

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Okay look,, this was a lot longer than I planned it to be,, it was supposed to be half the length it is now, but oh well 💪😔

Anyway, I said I would post it today so here it is, the first of (possibly) many short stories. 💥💥

Santi's apprenticeship short story (under the cut)

There's nothing wrong with being a little early. Making a good impression on their mentor is more important than any discomfort from the blazing sun and honking cars. June Ko was someone Santi had been following for years, this is a dream come true. Her art style was something they always admired. The tattoos she creates move flawlessly with every curve and ridge of the body. They're bold, sharp, and elegant in a way Santi can only hope to recreate one day. The only reason they're not as nervous as they probably should be is, well, they've met her before. Evidence of their meeting is permanently etched on their body. They instinctively trace the dancing swirl of black and grey smoke that wraps around their body from shoulder blade to forearm. It weaves around a wilting bouquet of butterfly jasmine on their bicep. It cost them a pretty penny, but they don't regret a single cent.

This meeting was their first step into finally doing what they've been wanting to do for years. Even during their college years, art was the only thing on their mind. Now, after too long, they can finally prove that their fine arts minor wasn't pointless.

Santi checks their watch, sleek with brown leather and black accents. It was a graduation gift from their grandfather and about the same price as one month's rent. Santi pulled at the earrings on their left earlobe. Guilt prickles down their shoulders as they picture his disappointment, ceaseless in its haunting. He expected more, but what else was there to give?

A shout breaks their train of thought, whipping their head around at the sound of a slamming car door.

“Is that you, Vega? You're way early, dude.”

Oh, shit. Was that not right? Santi blanked for a second, thinking up a response as June leisurely made her way over. Strike one. They didn't think 10:45 was that early.

“Nothin’ better to do. Just thought I'd get a head start,” they finally respond after what feels like an eternity of June twirling her keys on her finger. They check their watch again as their new mentor unlocks the door. It's only been a minute. This day is far from over.

A bell jingles on their way in, and the first thing June does is flip on the lights. They flicker before settling into a bright, sterile white, illuminating the concrete floor and exposed brick walls. The shop is sectioned off with half-walls just past the front desk. Checkered tiles cause Santi’s boots to echo in the open space and they stand for a moment, taking it all in. They’ve been to a handful of different tattoo shops. It never gets old to see frames upon frames of art and knick-knacks stacked over the walls. The old-fashioned feel of Velvet Ink has got to be one of their favorites.

“Did you bring your portfolio? Tell me what you've been up to since we last talked.” June doesn't waste any time weaving through the lounge, grabbing a single folding chair leaning on the side of the wall beside the red leather couch. She doesn't need to look back to see if Santi is following, they trail after her like a lost puppy.

“I got it right here-” they lift their shoulder bag in emphasis, “I've been practicing on fake skin since we spoke, I have a few I wanted to show you, but they're nothing huge.”

“Wow, you're on that shit, huh? Sounds about right, knowing you.” June chuckles as she sifts through her desk. She swipes a few things into a drawer, making space for Santi's portfolio.

“Okay, hand it over. Let's see what you've added.”

“It's not that much-”

“I didn't ask how much it was, kid, I asked you to hand it over,” she retorts, tapping the table. Santi sits down in the folding chair June dragged over and begins to sift through their bag. They feel a twinge of annoyance, smothered by embarrassment. They haven't been called kid in a long time, but seeing the peppering of grey in her long black hair makes them feel a little less patronized.

Instead of responding, Santi dropped the binder on June's desk. They dug around for a few of the fake skin sheets. When they pulled it out, June took it, her thumb tracing a circle to feel the texture. She huffed in amusement but didn’t comment. It's not like they bought the expensive stuff, just a cheap machine kit, black ink, and a few sheets of fake skin. They learned only to buy the nice stuff once they could actually draw a line without ripping through the material. Having a heavy hand while sketching never bothered them, but it's a nightmare when tattooing.

“Looks good for a first attempt,” she said, breaking the silence of the empty shop. June traced a finger down some of the darker portions. She admires the piece depicting an animal skull, a bear, being carefully cracked down the middle by human fingers on either side.

“You need to be lighter in some places, but your art is beautiful. You have a real understanding of technique, but it won't transfer to the body the way you're thinking it will.”

That's high praise coming from someone as skilled as June, Santi gives her a weak smile as they tug their tongue piercing with their teeth. They spend another half an hour discussing their art with June and getting a very short lesson on how to use the transfer paper printers in the shop.

The bell rings in the front as two people walk in, nudging each other and laughing up a storm. Santi sits up straighter to get a better look. It then clicks that they both work here, their profiles are on Velvet Ink's website. The both of them have unique styles from what they can remember.

The taller one with short, choppy blonde bangs, known as Sawyer, has a neo-traditional style. They use a lot of bright colors and bold lines, their style is something Santi has never considered having a tattoo of, but they couldn't help but attempt a few neo-traditional artworks after they spent almost an hour scrolling through their social media.

The other artist dabbles in many styles, but they're popular for their watercolor tattoos. Santi thinks idly that her multicolored pastel hair makes her look exactly as her art does. What was her name again? It was a flower, that's for sure. Lily, maybe? They can't remember.

June greets the both of them as they walk in, and they cheer her name in sync.

“June! Is that your new apprentice?” Sawyer asks, B-lining it over to them.

“Yeah, Sawyer, Iris, meet Santi-” June gets quickly interrupted by who they now know as Iris.

“Woah! That’s sick, can I see that?” She leans over the half-wall, pointing to the many sheets of artwork on June’s desk.

“You alright with that, kid?”

“Yeah, go for it, some of them are kind of old though,” Santi gathers a few of their favorite pieces in their clammy hands and passes them over to Iris, they can only hope she didn’t notice them shaking. Sawyer peaks their head over her shoulder to make their own assessment at the same time, reaching over and pointing out a few details. Santi can’t see them from where they sit, so they wait (im)patiently for them to finish their appraisals.

“Huh, you took classes, didn’t you?” Sawyer has their eyebrows raised, seemingly impressed by what they see.

“I got a minor in fine art, yeah.”

“I can tell, this is some good stuff, let me know if you need a canvas-” their striking green gaze pans to the torn-up fake skin, “actually, on second thought, I’ll wait a bit longer on that.”

“Ah, I’ve got a heavy hand,” Santi responds, sheepishly tugging on their septum piercing with a wide grin.

“That's fine! You’ll just need tougher clients,” Iris jokes with a wink.

“Don’t give them any ideas, Iris. It’s their first day,” June cuts in, fondly exasperated with her coworkers.

“Just because they’re new, doesn’t mean they get any special treatment. Isn’t that right, Sawyer?” For a moment, Sawyer stares off into the distance as Iris pats their forearm with a cheeky grin. They grow quiet when June doesn’t respond right away. She looks at the practice design from earlier, something soft smooths the crow’s feet around her eyes. There’s a flutter in Santi’s stomach, making a home right below their ribcage as June traces the lines for a second time.

“You’ll get used to it, Santi. I have no doubt you’ll fit right in,” June says, and Santi can’t help but agree.

#RO: short story #ro: s #dead end if #character study

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gosmigenergy · 1 year ago

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FEELS LIKE CHRISTMAS / Maxwell Lord (Lorenzano) x F! Reader

Summary: Celebrating Christmas for the first time with Maxwell.

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Mostly holiday fluff but turns explicit, holiday stress, mentions of family, mentions of Christmases alone, mentions of food, drinking, sixty-nine dude, oral - male receiving, oral - female receiving, P in V, unprotected sex (use protection irl please), language, no use of Y/N

Word Count: 5.9k

Author’s Notes: I did plan on making some continuous fics about Bunny and the Boys but I work in retail, have just come back from Iceland (panini delayed holiday) and I’m going to Norway to visit my sister over Christmas. When I was considering what to do because I really wanted to post something, I found this unfinished Maxwell Lorenzano seasonal story hidden away on my computer.

Anyway, enjoy!

You normally loved the season, you basked in multicoloured lights, engulfed by the smell of roasting chestnuts, ears ringing with the constant playing of hymns and cheesy pop songs.

However this was the first year you and Maxwell chose to celebrate Christmas, with him came Alistair and with him came the pressure of presents. For Maxwell, they had to be perfect even though he wasn’t loaded with fake Black Gold money, he had to give his son what he never had, the one gift every kid was asking for.

The Ghostbusters Firehouse was proving to be one of the most desired toys of the season, it had been since Halloween.

Alistair had dressed as one for the school disco, you’d found a jumpsuit and dyed it brown, found an embroiderer who made the name tag and spent hours building a Proton Pack from cardboard boxes. All that effort was worth it, to see that kid running up the steps with several other Ghostbusters in similar attire, be it triple the price.

“I love you,” Maxwell said, beaming with a lopsided grin and tears framing his eyes.

In that moment, you felt a warmth that you’d never quite felt before, one that was reflective of a proud parent.

You didn’t feel that right now.

After hours of following the herd, going into what felt like every toy shop in DC and coming out empty handed each time, you broke.

“Alistair is back in two and a half hours, I just want to go home,” you cried. You were literally crying on a bench, cheeks hot with the freezing air.

Maxwell’s smile had disappeared long ago, replaced with a straight line.

“Fine.”

He huffed into the space next to you.

The bus ride home was quiet, Maxwell keeping his emotions to himself, his grip tight on the shopping bags. You’re grateful as the tension seemed to drop a little when you rest your head on his shoulder.

“Please talk to me.”

The pair of you had finally stripped yourselves of your winter accessories and coats, abandoning the gifts in your bedroom to stop prying eyes, yet neither of you had said a word.

“What’s there to talk about? I’m a shit father who couldn’t get a present for his son.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing.

“Maxwell Lorenzano,” you walk to him and place your hands on his cheeks so he couldn’t look away. “You are not a shit father.”

His deep brown eyes glossed, his chin crinkling as he tried to stop himself from having an absolute meltdown.

“I can’t even get my kid the one toy he wants, what am I going to do?

“What are we going to do? I’m not letting you blame yourself for this. This is companies exploiting Christmas, making people feel shit for things out of their control.”

“Don’t you love Christmas?”

“Yeah but not this. Not making a father feel guilty for not getting his son a toy, that’s not what this is about. I love everything around that, the delight of snow and the rush of having to get outside. The warmth of a hot chocolate settling in your stomach, nights on the couch wrapped in copious amounts of blankets with It’s a Wonderful Life on the tv…”

Your heart twinges.

“The smile on the face of someone you love getting something unexpected, the voice on the other end of the phone as you wish them happy holidays.”

That’s what it always was for you. Your family far away, you unable to afford to get home.

“Mi amour.”

Maxwell brought a thumb to your cheek and caught the tear that had escaped.

You sigh, “It’s just been a long day.”

“I know.”

He pulled you close, resting his slopping nose on top of your head, breathing you in. You hold each other for a fragile moment.

“I need to go and have a think, ok?”

He kissed your forehead.

You nod before looking around your shrinking space, somehow the apartment the three of you shared was getting smaller.

“I’ll get this place in order before Alistair arrives and start on dinner.”

“Thank you, baby.”

He walked away almost defeated.

“Hey, you better not go in there and make some elaborate plan to make everyone’s deepest desires come true.”

“That was one time.”

You giggle.

A while later, the knock at the door interrupts your flow but you couldn’t stay mad for long when that wide smile greets you.

“Max, Alistair’s here!”

You’re almost knocked back as he throws himself at your legs and in for a hug, you squeeze his head to save yourself from falling.

“How’ve you been?”

“Good.”

“How was your mom?”

You didn’t really care, you were just making pleasantries to try and pretend you didn’t find the woman absolutely insufferable. When he lets go and gives you a shrug, you take the hint.

Ok, you mouthed.

“Alistair,” Maxwell appeared, his smile matching his son’s as he fell to his knees to embrace him enthusiastically. “I’m so happy you’re home.”

“Me too, mom said she wants to talk to you, she’s downstairs.”

“Alright, why don’t you help with dinner?”

“Ok!”

Alistair ran to the kitchen.

You guessed what this might be, the exchange of presents from ‘Santa’ as discussed between them. Alistair was going to be away from his mother for the holidays, not that either of them seemed to mind. You and Maxwell would have him until New Year so you had plenty planned.

“I’m sure you can keep him distracted for a while.”

“Of course,” you winked.

---

“Why is your tree so small?”

Alistair cocked his head to the artificial tree placed on a side table next to the television.

“Oh, I got that tree when I first moved to DC. I couldn’t afford much but I was desperate for some sort of Christmas decoration and there it was, last on the shelf at Goodwill.”

“Were you on your own that Christmas?”

“Yeah, my family were all back home.”

“Have you ever been back?”

“No, I’ve never had the chance. Though I’ve had loads of good Christmases here with friends and neighbours, Mrs Zonana gave me the biggest chocolate log you’ve ever seen.”

“Really?! Do you think she’ll make one for the party?”

“I’m sure she will.”

“Have you ever wanted a big tree? Mom had one that almost reached the ceiling.”

You shrug, “I’ve never thought about it, it’s just been me but, yeah, I guess something a little bigger would be nice.”

“And colourful lights for the window?”

The more he inquired, the more excitable he became and your smile grows.

“Colourful lights would be good too.”

“How’s everything going in here?”

Maxwell wrapped his hands around your waist, the chill prominent from his trip outside. He rested his chin on your shoulder and looked down at the carnage of flour, butter and cheese, Alistair’s hands coated in the ingredients.

“It’s gonna be later than expected.”

He pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“It’ll be worth the wait.”

---

“Can I just sleep here tonight?”

Alistair’s eyes were heavy, belly full from dinner and his body warm from a combination of flannel pyjamas and a fleece blanket.

“No, we all need to go to bed.”

Maxwell was the only one moving, he’d cleaned up and offered to make special hot chocolates, two of which would feature alcohol. He handed his son a mug brimming with whipped cream and marshmallows.

“But it’s comfy here,” he moaned.

“I can’t disagree with him.”

You were stretched on the couch, waiting for Maxwell to return to fill the space he left behind. He was your headrest, allowed you to snuggle within the crook of his arm and listen to his heart beat slowly. Once he was back, you were asleep for sure.

“Everyone is going to bed,” he reiterated.

He remembered the last time the pair of you fell asleep on the couch, his cricked neck played up for almost a week.

“Boooo.”

“Careful you two or Santa won’t bring you presents.”

Alistair laughed.

“Oh dad, Santa isn’t real.”

“What makes you say that?”

You try to deflect, Maxwell was hoping for another year of illusion at least.

“Jake told me.”

Curse you, Jake.

“Well, it’s not that he’s not real, it’s more that you’re old enough to allow Santa to bring joy to another kid. He’ll make sure this year’s extra special, I’m sure of it.”

His expression scrunched, “That sounds rubbish.”

“Oh no,” Maxwell shook his head, “it’s very true.”

Alistair’s eyes flitted between both of you and you knew the game, keep a straight face just long enough for him to believe you.

“That’s cool.”

He continued to watch the Christmas special on the tv. Maxwell handed you your hot chocolate and slipped into his spot. He let you settle back before leaning down and kissing the top of your head.

His words were soft, “Thank you, baby.”

You had gone to check on Alistair one last time before heading to bed.

“He’s out of it.”

Maxwell was already cosy under the duvet, glasses on as he read a battered copy of A Christmas Carol. Closing the door gently, you tiptoed across the room and slide into the other side, resting your fuzzy head on the pillow.

“How are you not dizzy reading after that drink?”

“Because I didn’t put an extra shot in mine.”

“Max!”

“What? You deserved it.”

You huff, you can’t stay mad at his stupid face, his wide toothy smile looking down on you.

“How did it go… with the present swap?”

He put his book down, “Fine.”

Maxwell was a man of little words when it came to his ex wife.

“You know you told Alistair that white lie about Santa Claus? Well, lucky for us, she managed to get that firehouse.”

“Of course,” you scoff.

The moment Maxwell lost his ‘wealth’, his then wife dropped him for someone who could pay the lifestyle she was after.

“Paid triple the amount for it.”

You let out a singular laugh.

“At least Alistair will be happy.”

“Do you think he’ll like what we got him?”

“Why do you ask?”

Maxwell’s brows furrowed, maybe he did make a mistake putting another measure of Irish cream in your hot chocolate.

“He knows we’re not necessarily as well off as his mom but I don’t want him thinking that we don’t love him as much because we can’t give him that.”

“Alistair knows we love him, maybe even more than his mother does.”

“We got him underwear,” you throw your arms up as you spoke.

“He needs new ones.”

“I know he does but we’re giving them as a present.”

“I was very happy when I got underwear one year.”

“You’re lucky to have a kid like him.”

“I’m lucky to have you too,” he said, cuddling closer. “Not every girlfriend would go from toy store to toy store trying to get a present for a kid that isn’t theirs.”

“You both mean the world to me.”

“And you’re everything to us.”

He cupped your cheek, feeling the heat seer through his palm before his lips met yours.

“I love you.”

“Love you too.”

You can’t remember falling asleep, only Maxwell gently shaking you awake. In your groggy state, you could sense it was still dark out yet you rolled over to see him fully dressed.

“Alistair and I are heading out,” he whispered. “He forgot to get a present for his friend.”

“I’ll get dressed.”

“No, don’t get up. Have some time to yourself, ok baby? We might be a while.”

“Ok,” you immediately roll back over.

No offence to Maxwell but it was way too early and you were far too hungover to kick up a fuss, he told you to stay and you wouldn’t put up a fight about it.

The phone started to ring the moment you stepped out of the shower.

After a lie-in, you visited Mrs Zonana ahead of her Christmas party, hosted every year in the apartment complex’s courtyard. You offered to help in some way and after much persuasion, she had you and another neighbour putting up the gazebo and decorations. Then you got back and knocked up some cookies for the evening before getting ready.

“Hello?”

“Hey, baby.”

“How’s your day going, Max?”

He groaned, “It’s gone fine but we’re running late, we’re waiting for the next bus. Do you mind if we meet you at Mrs Zonana’s?”

“Not at all, can’t promise there’ll be any food left.”

“It’s Mrs Zonana, she’ll save us a plate.”

You hum sarcastically.

“Don’t deny it, she loves me.”

You roll your eyes, “Am I being replaced?”

“Of course not,” the phone crackled, “I’ve got to go, love you.”

He hung up before you got the chance to reply.

When you finally made it downstairs, the outside was already buzzing. You made your way through the throng of your neighbours, stating you’d catch up later before reaching Mrs Zonana.

“Oh, I’ll make the boys their plates and keep them warm in the oven.”

“You don’t have to, they’re the ones running late.”

She battered you with a tea towel, which you were unable to decipher whether it was meant to be playful or if she really did want it to hurt.

“Sorry we’re late!”

Everyone practically cheered at Maxwell and Alistair’s arrival. You swiftly apologise to Nico to ensure you got to them first.

“Finally! Where have you two been?”

You jokingly put your hand on your hip and pout, Alistair giggling at your phoney expression because you, of all people, were never mad.

“Sorry, baby.”

“It’s not me you have to apologise to,” you smile wickedly as you sense Mrs Zonana’s presence.

“Alistair, come get yours and your father’s food.”

He runs away immediately.

“Did everything go ok?”

Maxwell hummed.

“You look exhausted.”

“I know but it’s all with a good intention.”

You rubbed your thumb along his cheek, warm in a rush to make it back, the faintest sensation of whiskers from lack of shaving.

“How have I not been greeted by my man yet?”

“Hola, Mrs Zonana.”

Maxwell slipped seamlessly into Spanish around her and you always prayed that they were saying kind words when your name popped up. You drew your attention to Alistair for a while and listened to him talk about his day with his father.

Occasionally, yours and Maxwell’s eyes would catch across the courtyard and you’d exchange the softest of smiles throughout the rest of the evening.

“I’m tired.”

Alistair was valiant in staying up, most of the other kids had gone to bed. He flopped onto the edge of the garden box with you and Maxwell, who had escaped another lecture on ancient artefacts from Mr Fennec.

“We should probably get you boys to bed, huh? It’s been a long day.”

They both groan, playfully collapsing their heads to your shoulders.

“Come on,” you ruffle Alistair’s hair.

After saying your goodbyes, the three of you strolled up to the apartment.

“I have never seen a boy this excited to go to bed,” you laugh.

Alistair had run ahead the moment you reached the walkway. Maxwell brought you closer, locked an arm around your waist and breathed you in.

“Don’t think I can blame him.”

The holidays were always tiring even when you were on your lonesome, you were always invited somewhere with someone and keeping up appearances was the norm. You spent years coming back, crashing onto the mattress before getting up to do the whole thing all over again. It was nice that the building party was the only real big deal this year.

Maxwell chose to do his office party by himself because why would you want to be surrounded by drunk, obnoxious salesmen for the evening? You were better off with Alistair baking cookies, watching a film and secretly helping him wrap presents for his father. Then Alistair’s mom took him to the school party and to meet Santa, attending the Christmas light switch on was the one event you happily obliged.

“Why are you taking so long?”

“Because we’re old,” Maxwell shouted as he and you approached.

“Did you hang mistletoe on the door?”

Your inquiry was met with a shrug.

“You do realise that I don’t need a Christmas tradition for an excuse to kiss you?”

“Ew,” Alistair fake barfed.

Maxwell rummaged to find the key in his pocket, refusing to let go of you. Alistair snatched it out of his hand as soon as it reemerged. Maxwell’s hand came to your jaw and gently, he eased you to face him. He stared at you with his brown puppy dog eyes, bringing his other hand to meet your cheek.

“Shouldn’t we be under the mistletoe?”

His face was illuminated by an orange glow as Alistair made his way inside.

“Too much effort,” he smiled before clashing your lips together.

It could be because he’s tired or the alcohol or the fact he was trying to make the kiss more of a pantomime for his son to endure but Maxwell was messy. He practically pinned your face to his with both hands, slipping his tongue passed your lips sloppily, forcing your body to turn backwards to the door.

You gasped for air when he finished.

“I like the enthusiasm.”

You take a couple of steps back to see his expression soften, he knew what he’d done, chose not to say anything.

Then you notice something out of the corner of your eye.

Wait, that wasn’t there when I left.

And suddenly the room seemed to fill with pinpricks of every colour.

“Merry Christmas!”

Alistair leapt from behind you and slowly, inch by inch, you took everything in. You didn’t utter a word, couldn’t even scream as your chest began to heave.

The tiny desk tree had been replaced with one triple the size, overloaded with baubles. Every wall was lined with string lights, the kitchen sill decorated with ornaments and tinsel and the focal point, three stockings hanging from the breakfast bar, embroidered with golden letters.

“Do you like it?”

You fall to your knees and squeeze Alistair hard. You put every ounce you had in you to hug that boy and kissed his head multiple times.

“I love it, Alistair, I love it so much,” your voice cracked.

“You’re crying.”

“They’re happy tears, I promise,” the words were catching in your throat.

“Let me take your coat, baby, Alistair’s got more to show you.”

“There’s more?”

Alistair was beaming up at you, nodding passionately.

Maxwell helped you pull yourself out of your coat, your body shaking as it failed to follow basic instruction. He trailed a hand down your spine as you attempted to get it together, wiping the tears that were already falling.

Taking your hand, Alistair showed you what else they’d done. The old tree had now taken pride of place at the end of the corridor between your rooms. There was more lights along the ceiling and the pictures on the walls had changed to winter scenes of snowfall, ice skating and carollers.

“I can’t believe you’ve done this just for me,” you smile, more tears forming.

“Well, I said about it to dad and he said he overheard us talking yesterday and felt like we should do something,” Alistair said. “Also I didn’t have any money and I couldn’t get up high so I needed some help.”

You couldn’t help hugging him again.

“I couldn’t have asked for a better surprise.”

“Really?”

“Oh, I’m going to remember this one forever.”

Alistair excitedly returned to Maxwell to pass on the good news. Of course you were going to love it, Maxwell knew you would. Luck aligned for him, there was still some money left in the budget you two had built, Mrs Zonana gave a hefty contribution and Suzanne from the other block let him and Alistair hide whilst they also played look out.

Plenty of people loved you more than you realised.

He automatically hugged you when you came back, “You good?”

“There aren’t any more surprises are there, I don’t think I can cope.”

“Not from me.”

You laugh into his chest, “Thank god.”

He ran a hand through your hair, squeezing you a little tighter before reluctantly letting you go.

“Can I have another one of those hot chocolates?”

“Sure.”

“And me,” Alistair chimed in, “please.”

The three of you rested on the couch, Alistair retelling the day and how each decoration came to be. It felt like your heart could burst, he was so overjoyed. Maxwell’s arm was draped firmly over your shoulder, chest rising and falling slowly as sleep tried to take him.

You knew you spent too long in the bathroom, you worried Maxwell may have fallen asleep before he even got chance to see your gift. It was a risk you were taking but you hoped it would pay off.

“Maxwell. Are you asleep?”

“Just resting my eyes,” his head lulled against the headboard.

“Oh because I was hoping I could give you one of your presents early.”

He opened one eye, “Really?”

You hum, fingertips playing with the tie on your fluffy dressing gown.

“Well, you’ve been such a good boy these past couple of days,” you pull open the knot, “and I think you deserve it.”

You shrug your shoulders and let the fabric fall to the floor with a light thud. Maxwell’s head snapped up, both eyes wide with the delight of seeing you dressed in nothing more than a see-through babydoll in bright red, nothing left to the imagination. Your bush freshly trimmed and nipples pert.

His smile brought the dimples to his cheeks. He leaned forward, gesturing with both hands.

“Come here.”

You saunter to the edge of the bed and he moves to you fit perfectly between his legs. His hands run up the backs of your thighs, fingers burying into your ass as he pressed his forehead to your stomach, the refreshing scent of your favourite perfume catching in his nostrils. He moved his hands to your hips before looking up at you drunkenly.

“How long have you been hiding this from me?”

You hum, biting your lip sheepishly.

Whilst in the mall, deflated from toy shopping, you excused yourself to go to the bathroom, leaving Maxwell amongst the other male shoppers in the seating area. As you walked, your eyes caught something in the window of a shop.

You only treated yourself to lingerie when it was a special occasion and after the day you two were having, it called for it.

Dress up wasn’t something you and Maxwell chose to do so, even though the enthusiastic sales assistant tried, you gravitated towards the little red number you wore tonight.

“I shouldn’t have got you tipsy last night, should I?”

You cup his face in your palms.

“It didn’t help.”

Brushing aside his stray hairs, you lean down and kiss him deeply, his back straightening to attention. You both part, catching your breaths.

“So, are you one of Santa’s naughty little elves or…”

Maybe you should have got the costume. You look at him, your eyelids low as the corner of your lips curled.

“I’d much rather be Mrs Claus.”

The smile grew back on his face.

“Now it’s time for you to go back to bed.”

Maxwell happily obliged. He made sure to look at the view in detail one more time before slipping his hands off you. Pushing back on the mattress, he rested on the pillow, hands tucked behind his head.

“Are you coming to tuck me in?”

You climb on the bed and crawl over his body, your index finger trailing along his underwear where his hardening cock was becoming visible.

“Not until…”

Your faces meet and he waits in anticipation for your next line, it doesn’t come easily. You think of all the seasonal puns but they’re all ridiculous - candy cane, north or south pole, Christmas has cum early?

He breaks first, a singular laugh ruining any chance of you being a seductive Mrs Claus.

“Hard to keep up the charade?”

“Yeah,” your expression scrunches. “I don’t think ‘not getting rid of your south pole’ does what I want it to do.”

He snorts at the terminology.

“Want me to take the rein?”

You thought he was going to make some sort of sleigh ride joke but nothing came after. He calmly brushed the hair from your face, breathing and heartbeat steady, his expression soft. Maxwell didn’t usually take control but this time, he seemed so sure.

“Ok.”

Then something changed, his pupils blew a dark black.

“Turn around.”

You listened, swapping your legs over each side. His hands travel up your legs before they claw your ass apart and you instinctively arch your back to offer him a better view. His cock twitched beneath the cotton fabric.

“Wet as always.”

“Always for you.”

He hummed, glad you were facing the other way round because he could feel the temperature rise in his cheeks.

You kiss the skin above the waistband of his underwear then lick in one motion, sending a shiver along Maxwell’s spine. He returns the favour, kissing the creases that joined your legs to your butt before spreading his tongue over your folds.

You shudder, leaning back further to try and catch the tip of his nose.

He knew exactly what you were doing, “Behave.”

You grumble, pouting your lips as you glance over your shoulder. You couldn’t see much past the sight of your ass but you caught each other’s eye.

Your fingers play with the elastic before you gradually peel his underwear off, inspecting his throbbing bright tip, precum glistening. To behave would be to not take the top in your mouth and spread your tongue over but you were going to get him back for his little remark, that and you were hungry for him. Dampening your lips, you took Maxwell in your mouth, rewarded with his lengthily moan.

“Oh fuck,” he says as you take him further, “you are not behaving.”

He felt your soft laugh against him, the vibrations pleasing enough to have him creeping closer to the edge.

There was only one way to play this game.

Swallowing hard, he spreads you wider before teasing you along your outer lips, soothing with his tongue after a gentle nip. You breath with a sigh and just as he gets you into a false sense of security, he buries himself into your weeping cunt.

You pull up, Maxwell’s cock falling with a slap to his navel as you gasp and whimper.

“Put me back in your mouth, baby, I don’t want you waking up Alistair.”

You massage his balls lightly and the air hisses through his teeth, he was going to blow if you weren’t careful.

“And what about you?”

Maxwell was the most vocal lover you’d encountered. He didn’t respond, returning to your cunt with more finesse, his tongue working against your blooming clit.

You let out a choked whine before wrapping your lips around his tip and sweeping around with your tongue. You felt his groan run through every nerve ending, your walls clamping round him. Slowly you took his length into your throat and back up again, picking up the pace according to his movements.

You couldn’t tell how long the pair of you were locked like this, in this pure unadulterated bliss.

He only came up for air to sing your praises and for his final admittance, “I’m so close, baby.”

You already knew that.

His hips had bucked a few times to get his cock further into that little throat of yours, the sound of you gagging sweeter than any music. His body was tensing, his grip on your hips making them numb, he was forcing himself not to cum out of the want of making you cum first.

“This is your treat, Maxwell,” you say after releasing his cock with a pop. “How do you want me?”

“I want to watch you bounce on my dick until we both cum.”

You smile coyly, turning yourself to face him, “Now that’s some Christmas magic I can do.”

Straddling his hips, you kiss him squarely on the lips and force him to lay with his back firmly on the mattress. Slipping your tongue into his mouth, you taste the tang of your arousal before pulling back, teeth nipping his bottom lip.

You lift yourself up, taking his cock in your hand as you line it up with your entrance. Eyes focusing on him, you slowly sink down, Maxwell releasing a choked gasp when just his tip slides between your folds.

His eyes flick up and down your frame as his palms trail your thighs, encouraging you to take his length.

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip as you lower yourself, a soft hum as he fills you. His cock twitches, his head falling back, eyelashes fluttering shut as you held steady.

“Fuck,” he sighs.

You sit for a minute, inner walls pulsing as your aching pussy readjusts to the stretch of his girth. All this time together and you still hadn’t gotten used to how heavy his cock was. He feels fingertips grazing the skin of his chest and opens his eyes. You’re gazing down at him, eyelids low but he could still catch the glint in your eye.

“I thought you wanted to watch.”

Oh, he did but he fucking adored how you felt around him, he could stay like this all night if you allowed him. But you started to raise your hips, your other hand lifting the fabric to your waist so he could see the drag of your folds.

He groaned, not too loud yet not too soft, just enough for it to hit your ears.

“Like that?”

You tease as you drop back down, knocking the air out of his lungs. He can’t answer, can barely move his head because his mind is solely on your pussy around his cock. You gradually begin to pick up the pace when your legs stop protesting, the slap of your skin against his getting stronger, his fingers digging further into the flesh of you.

A squeaking moan escapes you every time you bounce from him, lips sealed together as you try to keep the volume down. You can still hear Maxwell, his hushed praises blending into his second language, his throat bulging as he tries to contain his grunts and groans.

Your walls were tightening, your hips stuttering when the tip of his cock hit somewhere new as you rolled your pelvis forward. His lips crashed into yours, swallowing the honeyed groan that came deep from your chest. He held you in place, your legs shaking with anticipation.

You could feel your arousal spilling between your thighs, preparing you for the final chase, the spark igniting low in your belly.

Maxwell coiled his arms around your waist, removing his lips from yours as he nudged his nose against your cheek. You catch your breath, fingers drawing circles over his shoulder blades before you finally looked in his big brown eyes. Always soft and sincere even though you were about to ruin him, he would happily take it.

You kiss his lips, palms moving to settle on either side of his neck. Lifting your ass a little, you let him shuffle his legs closer to boost you up before you rolled your hips.

A moan escapes you as your clit grazes the hairs above his cock. He sighs, lips parting as he focuses on your movements, your walls twitching around his aching cock. His broad palms fall from your waist and over the curve of your ass, fingers sinking into the muscle as he guides you up his length.

“That’s it,” he says breathily.

And when you get going again, you feel the tingle as it dances along your skin, your belly warming. Maxwell’s hands following as you bounce, legs locking beneath your weight.

Both of your hot and heavy breaths trickle down your flushed chest, his soft grunts seeping into your ears. Your hands trail over his outline, the shiver shooting up his spine as your fingertips tease.

His head fell forward and you pulled him close to your body, nestling his face in the crook of your neck. Keeping on hand on his back, you draw the other to his hair, the colour no longer a fake blonde. Your fingers delve into his thick roots and tug gently, the noise he makes having you close your eyes, riding his cock as fast as your ceasing legs would allow.

His hands grip tighter, his tongue so loose he can barely get the words out to warn you as his balls recede and he coats your walls. He manages to hold you down as you hiss through your teeth, body trembling as your own orgasm surges through your body.

“Shit, Max,” you choke.

Your cunt pulsates, milking him for every last drop before your muscles relax. He groans your name passionately, his body going limp, back hitting the mattress with a loud exhale.

You keep your eyes closed, your hand reaching for his chest as it rose, filling the lungs with much needed oxygen. Your legs shudder with an aftershock, his hand coming to your wrist. You blink, the room coming into focus and you catch his lopsided grin as he gazed up at you in a blissed out state.

“Best present a guy could ask for,” he chuckles.

You giggle, brushing the hair from your face with your free hand. Lifting your hips, you slide off his cock, thick white cum dribbling from your folds before you crawled up the bed to settle next to him.

He snakes an arm under your neck, across your shoulders to draw you closer to his chest. You snuggle to his frame, draping a leg in between his, hand fixed to his chest as his heartbeat slowed.

Glancing up, his eyes are already closed. You knew he was exhausted, all the rushing around, trying to give everyone the best Christmas, making up for all the ones he’d missed. All you wanted to do was tell him he didn’t have to but he wouldn’t listen.

Maxwell wouldn’t have it any other way.

When he came to in the morning, your side of the bed was empty. He could hear life outside of the door, the faint strip of sunlight breaking through the curtains. Stretching, he tried to find his t-shirt before guessing you borrowed it when Alistair came to wake someone.

In the now cramped living room, he saw you and Alistair on the couch, huddled under a blanket with mugs in your hands. The pair of you had soft smiles and were whispering to one another, you attempting to understand what was happening on the kids show you were watching. A few more presents had made an appearance under the tree, sugar cookies filling a plate on the coffee table.

“Morning,” his voice sounded groggy, vocal cords not quite ready to talk.

“Morning dad!”

“Morning, coffee’s fresh if you want some.”

Your smile grows at his arrival before he comes down and kisses you. He continues to watch you both while he wanders round the kitchen, semi listening to what was happening on the tv. Returning with a mug of coffee, Maxwell leans over and grabs a handful of cookies, met with a little groan from Alistair who had to tilt sideways to see the screen.

“Sorry, sorry,” he whispers before sitting down.

You wriggle to make room as he slumps into his usual spot. After he’s got comfy, you nestle back against him and he drapes an arm over your shoulder. His lips come to the crown of your head.

“You ok?”

“Perfect,” he strokes your cheek as you drop your head back. “Feels like Christmas.”

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