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itneverendshere · 4 months ago

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all that talk is killing me - rafe cameron

request here: Fighter!Pilot!Rafe AU x Sweet!Reader. word count: 6.5K (YIKES) warnings: tooth rooting fluff and rafe being too charming.

There was that god-awful distinct scent of jet fuel in the air, a reminder that you were in one of the Navy’s busiest air bases. The hum of roaring engines wasn’t anything new; it had become a part of your day-to-day existence. The bar you worked at, The Mirage, was a hotspot for pilots, flight crews, and pretty much anyone else who was stationed nearby. A quiet coastal town didn’t offer many options for a social life, and if you wanted to get a cold drink or unwind, The Mirage was the place to be.

You’d been working here for just over a year and a half, long enough to recognize the distinct swagger of a military man when he walked through the door. They were easy to spot – especially the pilots.

Sunglasses permanently glued to their faces, that stupid untouchable arrogance radiating from them, the knowledge that they were some of the best in the world at what they did. It was almost admirable, if it wasn’t so…predictable.

You had sworn off pilots. No, you’d sworn off men in a uniform all together.

It wasn’t like a hard rule or anything, but after what happened with your last boyfriend—who, shocker, also wore a uniform—you weren’t about to make the same mistake twice. You’d learned the hard way that guys like that came with way too much baggage.

Long deployments, their egos inflated to the size of fighter jets, and let’s be real, they weren’t exactly known for being faithful. Military men had a reputation, and in your experience, they earned it. You weren’t about to get your heart broken again.

You’d been there, done that, and had the emotional scars to prove it.

So yeah, working at a bar right next to a Navy air base wasn’t exactly ideal, but you weren’t here for the guys. The Mirage was just a job, a way to pay the bills while you figured your life out. It was a decent gig. Good tips, a steady flow of regulars, and every now and then, you’d get to watch a squadron of cocky, ego-driven fighter pilots try to charm their way into someone’s pants.

Fun to watch, but that was about it.

The first time Rafe walked into The Mirage, you felt it immediately—the shift in the air.

You had your back turned, trying to keep busy wiping down the bar, but you could practically feel his presence as he swaggered up, like the whole place had just taken notice of him at once. Lean and built like he was carved from the side of a mountain, with shoulders that filled out his flight suit just right, and a chest broad enough to make any woman’s heart skip a beat.

And when you finally turned around? He was standing there with that stupid, lopsided grin, a couple of dog tags peeking out from beneath his half-zipped flight suit, the sleeves pushed up like he had zero intention of playing by any rules but his own. He had this ridiculously good-looking, disheveled kind of vibe going on, like he’d just gotten off a jet and didn’t care that his hair was all over the place.

You almost hated how good he looked.

He didn’t even hesitate when he caught your eye. He walked right up to the bar and leaned on it like he owned the place.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said, flashing you a panty-dropping smile that probably worked on most girls. “Can I get a beer?”

Sweetheart? Oh God, one of those guys. His voice had that low, southern drawl, smooth as Tennessee whiskey, dripping with charm. It was the kind of voice that could make anything sound like a compliment, even when he was teasing. And the way he leaned on the bar, just a little too close, just a little too familiar, like he’d been doing it his whole life and knew exactly what effect it had—it was almost criminal.

“Sure,” you said, not bothering to match his energy. You grabbed a bottle and slid it across the bar to him, intentionally keeping it short and sweet. You weren’t about to give him the satisfaction of a flirty smile or small talk. Guys like him lived for that.

“Thanks, darling.” He tipped the bottle to you, still grinning like he knew something you didn’t. You sighed, turning back to your work, already half-expecting him to hit on someone else.

But over the next few days, Rafe kept showing up.

Every night, like clockwork, he’d stroll in after his missions with that same laid-back swagger. You noticed how people gravitated toward him, like he had this magnetic pull. His squadron buddies? They idolized him. Girls? Yeah, they fell for him hard, like they didn’t see the giant walking red flag that he was.

But the worst part? He kept coming back to you.

Every time he walked into The Mirage, he’d make a beeline straight for the bar, leaning in with that smirk that was starting to get under your skin.

“You’re not like the other girls around here,” he said one night, lounging across the bar like he was settling in for the night.

So typical it gave you chills. He was a natural-born flirt, and he knew it. He wasn’t subtle; he didn’t have to be.

You snorted. “Oh yeah? How’s that?”

“They all like a guy in uniform.” He motioned to his flight suit, like he was showing off. “But you? You don’t seem impressed.”

You met his gaze and deadpanned, “I’m not.”

That should’ve been the end of it. Usually, when you gave guys the cold shoulder, they got the hint. But Rafe? He wasn’t so easily shaken. If anything, your disinterest seemed to make him more determined.

“Gotta say, I like the challenge,” he said, watching you like you were some kind of game he was about to win.

You rolled your eyes, but part of you couldn’t help but laugh. The guy had confidence, that much was clear. But you had to remind yourself why you’d sworn off pilots. This wasn’t your first rodeo. You’d been with a guy like Rafe before. The type who’d make you feel like you were the center of his universe—until you weren’t.

“I don’t date pilots,” you told him flat-out one night after he tried to get cute, leaning closer than necessary over the bar. You were done playing games, and he needed to know it wasn’t happening.

He just raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable for a second before that grin returned. “That a hard rule?”

“Pretty solid, yeah.”

“And why’s that?”

You raised an eyebrow, skeptical as hell, “You don’t even know my name.”

He leaned in slightly, that annoying grin never leaving his face as he took a sip of his beer, eyes never leaving yours. “You’re right,” he said casually, placing the bottle back down. “So, what’s your name, sweetheart?”

The audacity. Like his smooth confidence was supposed to melt away all your reservations like you were just another one of his conquests. You could see it so clearly now—the cocky smirk, the way his voice had that low, drawling quality that practically screamed “I get what I want.”

You let out a humorless laugh, shaking your head as you wiped down the counter. “I’m not giving you my name, Rafe.”

"But you know mine," He arched a brow, not even remotely phased. “Fair enough. Guess I’ll just have to earn it.”

“Not happening,” you shot back, trying to keep your tone firm.

But you could feel a tiny sliver of amusement creep into your voice despite yourself. He was relentless, and for some stupid reason, it was kind of fun to watch him keep trying.

There was something about a man in uniform that made women lose all sense of reason, and you weren’t about to be that girl again.

And yet, Rafe Cameron kept coming back.

Like a stray, relentless and impossible to ignore. And as much as you tried to play it cool, to not be another notch on his flight log, you couldn’t help but notice how his grin deepened every time you turned him down, like he was getting some kind of kick out of the challenge.

“You really don’t give up, do you?” you asked, throwing him a sideways glance as you refilled a couple of drinks for some regulars down the bar. You could feel his eyes on you the entire time.

He chuckled, that easy confidence still dripping from him. “Not when I see something I like.”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes, grabbing an empty glass and polishing it to distract yourself. “Well, you’re wasting your time,” you muttered, half-hoping that would be enough to shut him down for good.

But he didn’t take the hint. Instead, he leaned in a little closer, lowering his voice just enough to make it feel like the two of you were in on some kind of private conversation.

“Maybe. But something tells me you’re not as immune to my charm as you think.”

That did it.

You turned to face him, arms crossed over your chest, giving him the most unimpressed look you could muster. “I’ve met guys like you before. You roll into town, flash that cocky smile, and think you can get anyone in bed because you’re a hotshot pilot. You’re probably great at what you do, and I’m sure girls throw themselves at you left and right. But I’m not one of them.”

His posture faltered just a little, and you almost—almost—felt bad for bursting his bubble. But then he just laughed, “You really don’t hold back, do you?”

You shrugged, nonchalant, but you could feel a small sense of satisfaction. “Why should I? Guys like you are all the same.”

Rafe leaned back, studying you with a look that was half amused, half intrigued, like you were some kind of puzzle he couldn’t quite figure out.

“Nah, I don’t think we are,” he said, almost to himself. “But I guess you’ve got your reasons.”

That hit a little closer to home than you expected, and you felt your defenses kick back in full force. “Yeah, well, they’re good ones.”

“I don’t doubt that,” he said, his tone softer than before. He tapped his fingers against the bar, like he was considering his next move. “But just so you know, I’m not looking for an easy win here.”

You raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “Oh really? Because everything about you screams ‘I always win.’”

He laughed—more like he was in on a joke that only he understood. “True. But this feels different.”

Different. Sure, like every smooth-talking pilot didn’t say the same thing when they were trying to get a girl to let her guard down. You’d heard it all before.

“Look,” you started, leaning on the bar now, “I’m sure you’re a nice guy when you’re not playing the whole ‘bad boy in uniform’ thing. I’m not about to go down that road again. Especially not with someone who spends more time in the sky than on the ground.”

His eyes stayed on yours, unwavering. “But you don’t know me. Not really.”

“And you don’t know me either,” you shot back, feeling a bit defensive.

“That’s true.” He nodded, but there was a spark in his eyes that made you feel like he was more than ready to change that. “But I’d like to.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You don’t give up, do you?”

“Nope.” His grin was back, but this time, it felt less like a game and more like a challenge. Not in the annoying, overconfident way, but in a way that made you almost—almost—want to see how far he’d go. “And I’m willing to take it slow, if that’s what you need.”

You weren’t used to guys like him offering to go slow. In your experience, they wanted everything fast—fast cars, fast planes, fast relationships. The fact that he was even suggesting the idea caught you off guard.

“I don’t need anything from you,” you said, though your voice wasn’t as firm as you wanted it to be.

“I know,” he said, his voice soft but steady. “But maybe you want to give me a shot. Maybe.”

You stared at him for a moment, trying to figure out if this was some kind of trick. But all you saw was that stupid grin and those frustratingly blue eyes that were starting to chip away at your resolve.

“I’ll think about it,” you muttered, not fully committing but not entirely rejecting him either.

Rafe’s grin widened like he’d just won a small victory. “That’s all I’m asking for.”

You rolled your eyes, turning back to the drinks you were supposed to be serving, but you couldn’t stop the smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. Damn it.

You weren’t ready to let him in, not yet, but maybe—just maybe—you didn’t mind the idea of him trying.

Because, against your better judgment, you kind of liked the way he made you feel.

Over the next few months, Rafe didn’t just disappear like the others.

He stuck around, but not in the way you expected. At first, you thought he was still working some angle—coming into The Mirage every night, sitting at the bar, chatting you up like he was trying to wear you down. But after a while, something changed. It wasn’t like he was chasing after you anymore. It was more…normal. Friendly, almost.

It started small. He’d ask you about your day, your shift, little things like that. He didn’t push for more. When he wasn’t in the bar, he’d still check in—he’d send these short, goofy texts from time to time. Just little updates, nothing deep.

“Heading out on a mission, don’t burn down the bar while I’m gone.”

Or, when he was away for a while:

“Bet the place is boring without me around, huh?”

It wasn’t anything serious. Just light, casual. And you liked it that way. It was enough to feel like he was there, but not so much that it freaked you out.

Sometimes he’d ask about your life outside of work—how your art classes were going or if you’d gotten your car fixed yet. He never let you walk home alone. You hadn’t expected that from him. Like, when you first met Rafe, you pegged him as the type of guy who only cared about himself. But he’d actually listened to you, remembered stuff you’d said, which was…surprising. And kind of nice.

Still, you kept your guard up. You weren’t about to let him in fully. Not after everything you’d been through before. But you couldn't deny that a part of you enjoyed his company.

One night, about six months in, he came into The Mirage after being away on a longer mission. He looked more exhausted than usual, but his grin was still there as he slid into his usual spot at the bar.

“Miss me?” he teased, tapping the counter as if he’d been gone for a year instead of a few weeks. That flight suit clung to him like a second skin, half-zipped just enough to reveal a sliver of tanned skin and a hint of a tattoo peeking out. The sleeves were rolled up, showing off forearms roped with muscle, veins running down like they were tracing a roadmap to all the trouble he’d been in. His dog tags swung carelessly against his chest, catching the dim light of the bar.

He looked good enough to eat.

“Not even a little,” you shot back with a smirk, pouring him his usual. But the truth was, things had felt kind of off when he wasn’t around.

He took a sip of his beer, watching you closely like he always did. “Sure about that?”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Cameron.”

You expected him to throw some cocky line back, but instead, he just chuckled. “You been good?”

It was such a simple question, but there was something in his voice that made you pause for a second. “Yeah,” you answered, nodding. “Same old, same old.”

“Good.” He nodded, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before he turned his attention to the rest of the bar.

Everything felt kind of…easy with him now. You didn’t really know how or when it happened, but somewhere along the way, you’d started to see Rafe as more than just a cocky pilot. He was still all of that, sure, but there was more to him than you thought. He wasn’t just the guy who flirted relentlessly; he was the guy who checked in, who listened, who made you laugh when you didn’t even feel like smiling.

It was nice.

That night, The Mirage was packed. The air was thick with cigarette smoke and loud laughter. The usual suspects were there—pilots unwinding, a few locals mixing in, and the occasional sailor trying his luck. You’d been running around non-stop, the orders coming faster than you could keep up. Rafe had disappeared to the bathroom a few minutes ago, and you were focused on getting through the rest of your shift.

That’s when someone came up behind you. You didn’t even see him coming—just felt the sudden press of a hand on your waist, fingers gripping too tight, a body too close. Your breath hitched in your throat, heart picking up speed as you twisted around to see who the hell thought they could just grab you like that.

It was some guy you hadn’t seen before, a stranger with bleary eyes and a stench of cheap whiskey rolling off of him. He leaned in, way too close, his breath hot against your cheek.

“Hey there, gorgeous,” he slurred, his hand sliding lower, and you felt your stomach twist.

“Get off me,” you snapped, trying to shove him away, but he didn’t budge. Instead, he grinned, like he thought this was some kind of game.

“Aw, come on, don’t be like that,” he drawled, his other hand moving to grab at your arm, pulling you back toward him.

Panic flared fast in your chest. You tried to twist out of his grip, but he tightened his hold, pulling you closer.

“I said, let go!” you shouted, shoving him harder this time, your voice cutting through the noise of the bar. Your heart was racing now, pounding in your ears.

You glanced around, hoping someone would see what was happening, maybe step in, but everyone seemed too caught up in their own worlds, too fucking drunk to notice.

The guy just laughed, a low, sleazy sound that made your skin crawl. His hand slipped lower, fingers pressing into your hip, and you felt a cold rush of fear. “Just want to have a little fun,” he murmured, his voice thick and rough.

You opened your mouth to scream, to shout for someone, anyone, but before the words could come out, you heard it—the sound of glass shattering. You blinked, confused for a second, and then you saw Rafe.

He was back, and he was livid.

You’d never seen him like this before, eyes dark and wild, his jaw clenched so tight you could see the muscles twitching. He shoved through the crowd like a storm, fists already balled at his sides, his whole body taut with rage.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he snarled, voice low and dangerous, like he was barely holding himself back.

The guy barely had time to turn around before Rafe grabbed him by the collar, yanking him away from you with a force that sent him stumbling back into the bar.

“Get your hands off her,” He spat, his voice like gravel, his eyes blazing.

The guy looked stunned, confused for a moment, before his face twisted into a sneer. “Hey, man, relax—”

But Rafe didn’t let him finish.

“Don’t ‘hey man’ me,” he growled, stepping closer, his hands still clenched into fists. “You touch her again, and I’ll break every bone in your fuckin' hand.”

You were still trying to catch your breath, your pulse racing, adrenaline pumping through your veins. You’d seen him mad before, but this was something else entirely. His whole body was tense, like he was ready to pounce, and there was a look in his eyes that was almost… feral.

The guy seemed to sober up real quick, his eyes flicking nervously between you and Rafe. “Alright, alright, I’m going,” he muttered, hands up in surrender as he backed away, disappearing into the crowd.

Rafe watched him go, his chest heaving, his fists still clenched like he wasn’t quite done yet. He turned to you, his eyes softening a little, but his face still hard, still angry. “You okay?” he asked, his voice rough, breathless.

You nodded, swallowing hard, trying to steady your breathing.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you managed, but your voice was shaky, betraying the fear still thrumming through you.

Rafe stepped closer, his hands reaching out to gently touch your arms, his fingers light against your skin.

“You sure?” he asked, his eyes searching yours, his face so close you could see the worry etched into his features.

You nodded again, feeling a little steadier now, your heart still racing but slowing down, your breath coming easier. “Yeah,” you whispered, “Thanks to you.”

“You don’t have to worry,” he said quietly, “Not with me around. I got you.”

You felt your heart stutter in your chest, and you realized—maybe, just maybe, you were really starting to trust him. And that thought, more than anything, scared you to death.

It's why it felt so hard to be around him from that day on. You were trying to balance between wanting to keep things normal with him and avoiding getting too close. After what happened that night, you were more on edge than ever, and it didn’t help that Rafe was still making his usual appearances, his cute texts and late night calls. His protective streak had only made things more complicated.

“Everything alright?” he asked, his tone casual like he was trying to read between the lines.

You shrugged, “Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?”

He didn’t buy it. “You seem off. Did something happen?”

“Nothing happened,” you said, a little too quickly. “Just a long night.”

Rafe didn’t push. Instead, he grabbed a drink and started chatting with you about mundane things—the kind of small talk that was meant to fill the space without digging too deep.

He casually mentioned his plans for the weekend, how he was heading out with some friends, making it clear that he was open to other social opportunities.

“Gonna be out of town for a bit,” he said with a shrug, almost as if he was testing the waters. “Thought I’d let you know.”

You looked at him, trying to keep your expression neutral. “Okay.”

He paused, a smirk playing at his lips as if he was waiting for a reaction. “You sure you’re okay with that?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” you asked, trying to sound nonchalant, but the tightness in your voice gave you away.

Rafe’s smirk widened, clearly satisfied with the effect he was having. “Just checking. Didn’t know if you were going to miss me or somethin''.”

“I’m sure you’ll manage to find plenty of people who will,” you shot back, grimacing.

He chuckled, his eyes glinting with mischief. “You know, you’re more complicated than I thought.”

“That’s what makes life interesting,”

You finally let yourself admit it—his casual flirtation and the way he seemed to enjoy getting a rise out of you was starting to mess with your head. And that was exactly what he wanted.

So maybe, your petty self, doesn't answer to a single one of his texts while he's away. You figured if he wanted to play the game, you could play it too. It wasn’t like you were avoiding him or anything; you just wanted to make a point.

The first day, you didn’t think much of it. The second day, you told yourself it was no big deal. By the third day, you were trying not to obsess over the fact that your phone hadn’t buzzed with a message from him in the past twenty four hours. Like he'd given up. You kept yourself busy with shifts at The Mirage, catching up on sleep, and even dabbling in a new painting project.

When he finally came back, you were trying to act like it was just another day. You were behind the bar, pouring drinks and chatting away when he walked in.

Rafe’s usual swagger was in full force, but today, there was a hint of weariness in his eyes, like he’d been through the wringer. He slid onto his usual stool and flashed you that same charming grin, but this time, it felt a little more… tentative.

“Hey, stranger."

“Hey,” you replied, trying to sound casual, like you hadn’t been avoiding him. You set a beer in front of him and went back to wiping down the bar, giving yourself something to do so you wouldn’t have to meet his gaze.

Rafe took a sip of his beer, “So, you’ve been quiet lately. Everything alrigh'?”

“Just been busy, I guess.”

“Busy or just avoiding me?”

“Why would I be avoiding you?” you chuckled, trying to keep your voice steady. “I’ve been working and catching up on things.”

“Uh-huh,” he said, clearly not buying it. “Did I do something to piss you off?”

Uh, duh. He was making you fall for him. Recklessly.

“Nope,” you said, popping the ‘p’ with a little too much force. “Everything’s fine.”

Everything was not fine, especially not when a girl you'd never seen before decided to eagerly join him on the stool next to his.

You didn’t mean to be staring at them. You really didn’t.

But there she was, practically hanging off Rafe’s arm like some kind of human accessory, her giggle obnoxiously loud over the music in The Mirage. She had this glossy, perfect hair, one of those flirty little dresses that clung to all the right places, and legs for days. And she was touching him. All over. Laughing way too hard at whatever stupid joke he’d just made.

You could feel your stomach twist into a knot, and for the life of you, you couldn’t figure out why it bothered you so much. It’s not like you hadn’t seen this before—girls throwing themselves at him like he was the last guy on Earth. You’d watched it happen a dozen times. Maybe a hundred.

But today? Today it felt different. Today, it felt like there was a boulder lodged in your chest, and you could barely breathe around it.

God, this was so stupid. You didn’t even like him like that. He was just…a friend. A hot, annoyingly charming friend who maybe made your heart race a little bit every time he walked into the bar. Whatever. It didn’t matter. You were not—repeat, not—catching feelings. You couldn’t be.

Still, your hands were gripping the bar a little tighter than necessary, your smile plastered on your face as you poured drinks for some regulars, trying to pretend you weren’t glancing over at them every five seconds.

But then she had the audacity to look right at you, her big doe eyes blinking innocently, and ask, “Hey, could you get me another drink?”

Your fingers tightened around the beer tap, and you felt a jolt of irritation shoot through you. The girl was practically hanging off his arm, and here she was, smiling at you like you were her personal waitress.

You forced a smile, the kind that didn’t reach your eyes, and nodded. “Sure, what do you want?”

She twirled a strand of hair around her finger, leaning in even closer to Rafe as if she needed to be attached to his hip. “A tequila sunrise, please,” she chirped.

You had to grit your teeth to keep from rolling your eyes. “Coming right up,” you muttered through clenched teeth, turning your back to them as you reached for the tequila.

You could feel Rafe’s gaze burning into the back of your head, could practically hear the smirk in his voice without even looking. He was loving this. Watching you squirm, seeing you get all pissy while he played the charming flirt. God, he was such an asshole.

“Here you go,” you said, managing to keep your voice steady.

She beamed up at you, completely oblivious, and took a sip. “Thanks! You’re the best.”

He looked like he was having the time of his life. That stupid grin plastered on his face, his blue eyes sparkling as he leaned in close to hear whatever the girl was saying. And she was soaking it all up, practically melting into him, flipping her hair like she was auditioning for a shampoo commercial.

You felt this weird, hot sting in the back of your eyes and immediately blinked it away. Oh, hell no. You were not going to cry over this. Over him. No way.

But it was getting harder to hold it all together. You turned away, busied yourself with wiping down the counter, anything to stop looking at them.

And then it happened.

He looked over at you.

Just a quick glance, but enough to catch your eye. Enough to let you know that he knew you were watching. And damn it if he didn’t look like he was enjoying every second of it.

That did it. You felt the flush of heat creep up your neck, the anger boiling under your skin. You slammed a glass down a little harder than you meant to and mumbled something about taking a break.

“Hey, you okay?” one of your coworkers called after you, but you were already pushing through the back door, needing some fresh air, some space to get your head straight.

You ended up in the alleyway behind The Mirage, your back against the cool brick wall, eyes squeezed shut as you tried to keep it together. You felt so stupid, so ridiculous for even letting this get to you. He wasn’t yours. He was just…Rafe. And you were just you, the girl who’d sworn off guys like him a million times.

But it hurt. Way more than you wanted to admit. And before you knew it, a tear slipped down your cheek. You quickly swiped it away, cursing under your breath.

And that’s when you heard it—the creak of the door swinging open, footsteps on the gravel.

You didn’t even have to look to know who it was. Of course he followed you. Of course he did.

“What’s this?” Rafe’s voice was teasing, that familiar low drawl that usually made your heart flutter, but right now it just grated on your nerves. “Are you crying?”

You scoffed, keeping your back turned, hoping he’d take the hint and leave you alone. “No. Just…got something in my eye.”

“Sure you did.” You could hear the smirk in his voice, that stupid, smug grin that he always wore like some kind of armor. “You jealous or something, sweetheart?”

God, he was such an ass. “No,” you snapped, turning to glare at him. “Why would I be jealous? You can flirt with whoever you want. I don’t care.”

He stepped closer, still grinning like he’d won something. “Really? ‘Cause you looked pretty pissed back there.”

You felt another tear threatening to fall, and you bit down hard on your lip, willing it to stop. “I’m not pissed,” you lied, crossing your arms over your chest. “Just…busy. And you’re distracting.”

Rafe laughed softly, and you wanted to smack that grin off his face. “Distracting, huh?”

He was closer now, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off his body, and it just made everything worse.

“I’m serious,” you said, your voice shaking just a little. “Just…leave me alone."

But of course, he didn’t. Instead, he took another step closer, reaching out to tilt your chin up so you had to look at him. His thumb brushed against your jaw, and you hated how good it felt, how much you wanted to lean into his touch even though you were mad as hell.

“Hey,” he said, his voice softer now, all teasing gone. “Talk to me. What’s going on?”

You sniffed, trying to pull away, but he wouldn’t let you. His grip was gentle but firm, and for some stupid reason, that only made the tears come faster.

“It’s nothing,” you mumbled, hating how weak you sounded. “Just…go back to your fan club, okay?”

His eyes searched yours, and for a moment, you saw something there, something that wasn’t just amusement. “Fan club?” he echoed, his brow furrowing slightly.

“You mean that girl?”

You nodded, swallowing hard. “Yeah. That girl. You seemed pretty into her.”

He let out a low chuckle, but it wasn’t mocking. It was almost…gentle. “Sweetheart, you think I’m interested in her?”

You blinked, not trusting yourself to speak, so you just shrugged.

Rafe shook his head, his thumb still brushing your cheek. “Nah. I’m not. I was just…” He paused, a grin tugging at his lips. “I was just waiting to see how long it’d take you to get jealous.”

Your mouth dropped open. “You—what?”

He grinned, his eyes lighting up with mischief. “Oh, C'mon. You think I didn’t notice the way you were glaring at her? You looked like you wanted to rip her hair out.”

“I did not,” you protested, but the redness in your cheeks betrayed you.

Rafe’s grin widened. “Yeah, you did. And I gotta admit…kinda hot seeing ya all riled up over me, sugar.”

“Shut up,” you muttered, but there was no heat in your voice now. It was hard to stay mad when he was looking at you like that, like you were the only person in the world.

He laughed softly, but then his expression softened, and he cupped your face with both hands, pulling you closer. “Hey,” he murmured, his voice low and serious now. “For the record, there’s no one else. Just you, okay?”

Your heart did a stupid little flip at his words, and you wanted to be mad, you really did. But instead, you just felt relief flood through you.

“Okay,” you whispered, and before you knew it, you were in his arms, his lips pressing against your forehead, his hands wrapping around you like he was never letting go.

“You don’t have to pretend you don’t care, you know,” he murmured against your hair. “I kind of like that you do.”

You sighed, finally letting yourself lean into him, burying your face in his chest. “I hate you,” you mumbled, but your arms were wrapping around him all the same.

He chuckled, pulling you even closer. “Nah, you don’t.”

And damn it, he was right.

Then, you shifted back a little, looking up at him. His face was closer than you’d realized, his breath warm against your skin. You could see every fleck of gold in his eyes, the way his lips curved slightly like he was trying not to smile too much.

"You’re an asshole, y'know that?" you whispered, but your voice came out softer than you meant it to.

He laughed, a low rumble that you felt in your chest more than heard. "Yeah. But you kinda like that about me, don't ya?"

There was no hiding the grin tugging at your lips. "You think you’re so charming."

"That's 'cause I am," he shot back, but his voice had this low, husky tone to it now. His gaze dropped to your lips, lingering there a beat too long. You could feel your heart speeding up. It was like everything slowed down in that moment.

Before you could overthink it, he leaned in. Slowly, like he was giving you a chance to pull away, his eyes locked on yours, searching, waiting for any sign that you didn’t want this. But you did. More than anything, you wanted this.

So, you didn’t move. You let him come closer, closer until you could feel the warmth of his lips brushing against yours, so light at first it was barely there. A soft, testing touch, like he was still making sure this was okay. And then, when you didn’t pull back, he pressed his lips fully to yours.

It was gentle at first, careful, his hands still cupping your face, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks like he was memorizing every inch of you. You could taste the faint hint of beer on his lips, feel the scratch of his stubble against your skin, you felt something sweet, something that was just him.

You kissed him back, tentatively at first, but then something in you snapped. You sighed against his mouth, a soft, involuntary sound, and that was all it took for him to deepen the kiss. His tongue brushed against your lower lip, asking for permission, and you granted it without thinking, opening to him, meeting him halfway.

All the tension, all the months of pretending you didn’t feel anything, it all spilled out at once. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, your fingers threading through his hair, deepening the kiss.

Rafe groaned softly, his hands moving to your waist, pulling you flush against him. And you kissed him back just as fiercely, letting yourself feel every bit of it. When you broke apart for just a second, gasping for air, but he didn’t go far. His lips hovered over yours, his breath warm, his eyes dark and intense, like he was seeing straight through you.

"God," he whispered, his voice ragged, "I’ve wanted to do that for so long."

You didn’t even have time to say something before he captured your mouth again, this time slower, deeper, like he wanted to savor every second. His hands were everywhere now—one in your hair, the other sliding down to the small of your back, holding you like he was never going to let go.

You broke apart again, both of you panting, his forehead pressed against yours. “Fuck,” he breathed out, a smile spreading across his face. "You sure you don't hate me?"

You laughed, breathless, your heart hammering against your ribs. "Maybe just a little," you teased, but there was no hiding the smile that was stretching across your face, the way your fingers still tangled in his hair, like you couldn’t let go.

He chuckled, leaning in to steal another quick kiss, softer this time, sweet and playful. "Well, I can live with that." he murmured against your lips.

And as he kissed you again, you realized that maybe you could, too.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron au #rafe x reader #rafe cameron fluff #rafe fic #pilot!rafe #topgun!rafe #top gun maverick #hangman!rafe #rafe imagine #rafe cameron imagines #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x female reader #fluff #he's down bad #itneverendshere works✨

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cottonundiestf · 1 year ago

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Transformation Charm Game: justanotherdrone

The Temple Doors open and @justanotherdrone enters the domain of the Fates and the Charm Game begins! The Fates stir and magic fills the air…

[Style: Country Girl]

…and your clothes start to dissolve, reshaping themselves on your body. Your yoga pants and sneakers form together into some cute boots and your skater skirt creeps up, reforming into a worn-out pair of cut-off denim shorts that don't fully cover your ass.

Your top shrinks, the fabric creeping up to expose your belly until the buttondown is tied to snugly cradle your modest breasts.

You reach up over your head to feel the brim of a cowgirl hat and notice your arms have developed a nice tan befitting a girl who spends her time out in the country. The color covers everything but some clear tan lines left from a bikini you wore out by the lake.

This wasn't your style, you know, but at the same time, this IS your style. Now it always has been; deep down, you're always gonna be a country girl, from your clothes to your southern accent.

I blushed when I seen my clothes change, running over to a puddle of water to look at my skin. Seeing it darken, tanning, like the popular girls that I went to school with. The only pale skin on my chest, the tan lines, drawing attention to them, only moreso with my top. I reached up to them to try and undo the knot, to take the top off. I…I still had a bra on under this, didn't I? I…I didn't remember wearing one. All those days workin in the field, it was hard t'breathe, no real point n having one…

The magic makes the room feel like campfires and honeysuckles as energy swirls once more...

[Style: Forever Heels]

…this time focusing on one specific aspect of your wardrobe: your shoes. Boots compliment your new look nicely, but they're still too modest. Your perspective shifts as the heel of your shoes extends, lifting you five inches off the ground!

It isn't just your shoes, though; you feel the tingle in the arch of your foot. Intrinsically, you know; your feet are molded to the arch of a good high heel.

Retroactively and going forward, you feel increasing discomfort when flat-footed. Your natural standing position matches that of at least a four-inch heel. Even barefoot, you'll forever be walking on your tiptoes now.

But permaheels aren't ALL bad; they make your ass look great, after all. In fact, your butt gets a perky little boost so it can be properly shown off hanging out of those tiny shorts.

I felt my calves flex, as the heels grew. I'd also be lyin if I didn't reach round and grab a feel for myself, giving my rear a gentle squeeze. Hopefully I wouldn't trip but…so far there wasn't any downsides!!

The magic is glad to see you so curious, flaring back to life and following your lead…

[Thicc Thighs]

…seeping into your backside. You can feel the warmth radiating through your ass and thighs, like a cake being baked. And just like cake, as the heat grows, your thighs and backside start expanding outward, becoming dense and squishy with layer after layer of new flesh.

When you take a step, you feel the jiggle. Your thighs rub together as you walk, and the perky apple-shaped butt those heels gave you is now a full serving of wobblemeat. Given your love of tiny shorts and skimpy skirts, the lower half of your ass will probably be on permanent display going forward.

I reached back with both hands, squeezing and shaking it. It's be so much fun twerkin on a guy, maybe even getting him to fall in love. Sex would be wild. I could have a handsome husband to run the ranch with me. Course, I wouldn't stay in the house, I'd be pullin my own weight with the chores!

It's nice of this good old fashioned country girl to aspire to a nice domestic ranch life. But the magic swirls…

[Sexuality: Promiscuous Girl]

…and has other plans. This time it settles right between your legs, lighting a little fire in your core that grows quickly, building the heat in your body and spreading to your mind.

You're horny. Not just now, but always. Your cunt probably makes more decisions than you do, leading you to flirt, tease, and seduce anyone that strikes your fancy. Your motivation almost always boils down to getting someone to fill your needy holes.

This unfortunately overrides your ability to restrain yourself, which isn't great news for relationships. You can feel yourself remembering now; you try having relationships and finding that cowboy or girl to settle down with. But you just can't keep from fucking his friends, his cousins, or strangers from the honky-tonk.

You can't help that you put the ho in hoedown?

It just…always feels good!! And with my assets I can have anyone I want, boys, girls, daddy's helpers on the ranch. One day, my helpers. I'd pay em, but the best workers would get a special bonus at the end a the week for bein such a good boy…

Who could blame you, right? The magic was almost spent for the day, but there was enough left to rest like a mote on your tongue…

[Syllable Limit; 1]

robbing it of linguistic complexity. Oh, sorrt, that might sound complicated after the dice of fate roll

and your brain suffers a bit of a drain! Your mental word bank, accrued over decades, loses anything longer than a single syllable. If you try speaking a longer word, your tongue will trip over it, and if a sentence has too many words longer than one syllable, your ability to understand it will dwindle, leaving you with a dumb, confused expression.

It's safe to say you dropped out of high school. You gave up on studying, content for a simple farm girl life on the ranch, slutting it up at country bars ever night. But isn't this so much better than being smart and dealing with a service job, all without a certified country-fed dumptruck ass?

The magical voice of the Fates whispers in your ear, "How do you feel about your new life, cowgirl?"

I shud…shud…shiv…my new hot bod felt like fuzz, and I gave a nod to the weird n fun voice in my head. This felt ama…cool!! Hard to think but like, I can fuck men and wom…and girls, they can talk and think for me!!

Exactly! You have a wonderful life lined up for you now where you don't need complicated words.

Go forth, make do like a country girl, and enjoy riding cowgirl!

(But maybe be careful not to smother whoever you're riding in all that ass...)

End.

Shoutout to justanotherdrone for taking part in her own transformation and giving me the go-ahead to include her replies!

As always, I do these VERY occasionally in my Discord Server if you want to get a live sneak peek. (Fair warning, I'm still pretty behind on my wait list and have been known to go months between games.)

#transformation charm game #personality change #countryfication #ass expansion #libido change #syllable limit kink

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intheholler · 7 months ago

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Hi, sorry if this is a weird message but I just wanted to say how much I appreciate your blog.

I've never been to the appalachia region but I was born in Mississippi and only lived there for like 3 years before we moved. My mom was a travel nurse so we moved every year or two and I really loved living like that and being able to live in tons of different places but part of me is really upset that I never really belonged to a specific place.

When I was younger, I was thankful for not growing up in the south. I always heard other people talk about it, how it was nothing but inbred hillbillies and how everyone talked in a weird drawl and I was glad I never picked up the accent.

But now I'm so, so upset about it. I have a very slight accent sometimes and say y'all and ain't a lot but it's definitely not recognizable as a southern accent.

I want to sound like that, but it feels wrong to try and talk with that accent now, because my family doesn't sound like that and I don't live in the south anymore. Even though I was born there, it still feels like I'm not from there, you know? Like I would be stealing something that's not mine.

It just sucks. Especially when I hear people constantly talk shit about the south and how everyone there is stupid and ugly and racist and evil and it's like, ''Oh. Maybe if I lived there a few more years they would hate me like that too."

A lot of time I see people talking about how much it sucks to grow up in a certain culture, but I never see people talk about how much it sucks to grow up without a specific culture(s).

The worst thing is when people ask where I'm from or where I grew up, and I don't know what I'm supposed to say.

So thank you for your blog. I know the south and appalachia are different, with different cultures and climates and people, but it still makes me feel like I can experience something I never got to.

hi there. this is not weird at ALL.

its a topic very near to my heart really. thanks so much for sharing your story not only because it's yours and i want to know it, but because it resonates with me SO hard, and i don't really talk to anyone who was constantly on the move as a kid and questions their identity because of it.

long post below, as is usually the case with me and this subject.

first i wanna say: i agree that the deep south and appalachia are certainly unique from one another, but to me, they share more similarities than they do differences. your story only cements that in my mind.

we have similar politics, are embarrassed by similar stereotypes, have shameful collective histories. we have similar flavors of self-work and unlearning to do. even the accents overlap.

we also know the same struggle of trying to be louder than our region, how it feels to have our individual voices swallowed up by people who don't want to hear it because they've already decided what they think about us as if we are some monolith.

what i mean is you definitely belong in this community, and i'm so glad you are here!

now for the emotional bits: i hate making these sorts of asks about me, but i sometimes feel at a loss as how else to communicate my empathy in this specific situation.

i just hope my experience can extend a sense of solidarity and understanding to how you're feeling, as mine mirrors your own very closely. i can seriously like feel the pain radiating off of this ask and i just want you to feel seen and heard.

"The worst thing is when people ask where I'm from or where I grew up, and I don't know what I'm supposed to say."

this kicked me in the stomach, because same. it's why being "from appalachia" is so integral to my identity. i'm not from a town or even a state. all i have is the region.

i've talked about this before on here, but my dad was a contractor, and we moved every year or two as well. the longest i stayed in one town was three years, and it happened only once.

i agree that moving around a lot was good in some ways, but, like you, it left me without a sense of belonging.

looking back as an adult, i realize how badly all of that moving fucked me up. i don't have a hometown in the traditional sense. i'm not "from" anywhere.

a lot of my childhood belongings i no longer have because everything seemed to get lost in the moves. i feel like i am scattered across a region, and i am nowhere.

its so bad that, as silly as it is, i get irrationally upset at something as innocent as when i am with someone who has lived in a place most of their life, and they can easily give directions there because they know the place so well. i can't do that with anywhere and so i feel bitter.

i myself moved around consistently in appalachia/the south, though, so i still grew up in the area, as generally as one could. so i also spent most of my late childhood and preteen yearsgetting rid of the accent. i didn't want to sound "stupid" or be lumped in with the racists and the stereotypes of the region.

i thought it made me better than other kids who spoke with the accent, because back then, i hadn't started the self-work i have since undergone and ripped all that hateful internalized bullshit up.

i regret it every day now that i'm learning to love where i'm from--appalachia and the south as a region. i regret ever buying into what i was told about myself and getting rid of all markers of it.

i get it, anon. i really do and i love you and i'm sorry.

THIS IS ALL TO SAY VERY VERY LOUDLY:

you. are. from. there.

you were born in the south. you was raised by a presumably southern family. even if you wasn't, they had to take pieces of mississippi with them. culture is not a static thing--it goes where you go.

you can't steal what's already yours. the accent is yours to use. it feels awkward in your mouth when you try to get it back but that's just because it needs to get comfortable in there again. it doesn't mean you're faking or stealing. it means you are reconnecting, and reunions can sometimes be a little awkward.

don't hold yourself up to rigid standards or fall victim to any gatekeeping, outward or inward. only you get to define who you are, and it seems like you know who that is supposed to be.

i hope you can start to feel a little more at home in your identity. i know what a special hell it is. thank you so so much for being here <3333

#asks #southeast usa #southern dialect #appalachian dialect #txt

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greetingfromthedead · 9 months ago

Text

Shepherd Story 3 (God!Knives x GN!Reader)

Plot: In a world where fallen gods live among you, there is the god of winter and death who is also eternally bound to you with body and soul. A sense of routine has arrived as you fulfill your duties and wait for his return.

Series: Shepherd. Check out Story 1 and Story 2 (smut)!

Pairing: God!Knives x GN!Reader

Raiting: Teen and up

Tags: fantasy!AU, god!AU, no use of "y/n", established relationship, gods, feathery plant, fated love, romance, legends, nature magic, reunion, intimacy, possessive behavior, tenderness, some fluff, angst, death, reincarnation

Word count: 4.6k

Author's Note: We had a blizzard here after a day of sunshine and 17 degrees so it made me think of this story again. Wrote this mostly while listening to Rachmaninoff, I highly recommend their dramatic pieces to accompany this little story. This AU is inspired by @triplesilverstar's god!AU.

His sister's presence has retreated again, opening the gates for the northern winds to howl across the lands beyond the god's domain. Tesla had brought summer and filled the hearts of all with joy and love. All but the god of winter and death, for his heart beats for only one person and one person alone. He has waited patiently for another cycle of this world and to be released from the confines of his demon infested home and reunite with his beloved. He makes it out of his shadow realm, passing the first human settlements. He is followed by a dark cloud of despair and winter's chill. His steps freeze the earth beneath, and his presence seizes the sway of grass as the moisture in them turns to ice. The drinking water for the horses forms jagged crystals on its surface as the god passes by a farm. The animals are whining restlessly, his presence unsettling them. The forests are silent, the ancient trees muffled by a blanket of snow, as the heartless man continues on his path, leaving destruction in his wake.

It is so cold. His fingertips have gone beyond pain, and he can barely feel them anymore. His body wants to seize up, but he pushes on. He will never give up; he will never stop moving. The darkness radiates from his chest; it is so heavy and empty, the vacuum left in his center yearns to be filled with your love. It is the only thing that will save him. The only thing that gives him meaning. It is the only thing that gives him hope. The thought of your warm touch lingers in his mind. Oh, to see your smile again. It would make everything else fade away. The color of your eyes would relieve his pain and bring him back to life. In every iteration, you are gorgeous to him. No matter what body you inhabit, he will always be captivated by your beauty. But still, he can look past the external appearance and see the true splendor within you. The breathtaking and captivating presence of your soul has tied him to you for eternity. The strings of faith will never be severed, no matter how many curses are placed upon you. He will always remain by your side, unwavering in his devotion.

He moves south, with blizzards and frost as his faithful followers, spelling death for those unprepared. Nature has gone so very quiet as he walks through the meadows and fields. The air grows colder and darker with every step he takes, and the little lifeforms hold their steaming breath as he passes by in fear that they will be reaped by the god of death himself. But he is not here for them. As he slowly approaches the southern lands, where he knows he will find you, a melody strokes his ear, soothing the despair that has been building up inside him. He stops for a moment, the brilliant light of the moon reflecting on the glimmering snow. He recognizes the siren song, which draws him closer. Two hearts singing as one in the stillness of the night. It is very far, a quiet melody to daunt his soul. But he knows you can feel it too; your soul is drawn to him to close the distance between you.

The souls of the dead sound like little bells to you, beckoning you closer. Their crystal clear chimes ring out, guiding you towards them. Tonight, as you fulfill your duties, you hear one calling out from the village over the pasture. Being met by the souls of the dead is never pleasant; knowing they lived a life and had hopes and dreams beyond what they had achieved fills you with sadness. They were people who leave behind mourners and heartbreak. But to hear a ghost call from so close to home stings you more sharply than any other encounter. Your body is asleep in your little cottage as your spirit crosses the green, grassy field as a fox. Your presence doesn't disturb the grass or the cattle. You drift to the house where an old woman has lived for all your life. You know her well; you gave her your dried herbs when she got ill, and you played catch with her grandson when you were both little. She moves through her yard with a slow shuffle, checking that the door of her chicken coop is closed before going to count the goats in the barn. She looks concerned while she performs her nightly routine. You take your human form to use your voice.

"Mrs. Claire," you say calmly and quietly as you watch her. She looks up, her eyes filled with worry.

"It's you," the old woman blurts with a shaking voice. "I knew the rumors were true!"

She backs away, expecting to be met by the little gate separating her little yard from the rest of the world, but instead just passes through it.

"Oh!" she exclaims with a shrill voice, befitting an old crone. She looks at her surroundings and herself.

"Yes, Mrs. Claire, I am afraid you have passed on." You answer her unspoken question, and she looks at you without responding. You make no attempt to go closer to her as you look at her beautifully maintained garden and the memories it must hold.

"What are you doing here, you witch?" She nearly spits out the last word.

"I am here to send you to the other realm so you can be born again with the flowers of spring," you say almost absentmindedly before turning a sharper gaze onto her. "Or I could leave you to roam the grounds for a while longer as a ghost."

"I do not trust you! You practice witchcraft!" she exclaims, her voice trembling with fear. "You even lured the god of death here to advance your own power! We saw it! You let him bring destruction to our land!"

"What will it be, Mrs. Claire? Will you come with me, or do you need more time to say goodbye?" You reach out your hand to her, ignoring her accusations. "The outcome will be the same."

"I shall not go with a creature of darkness! You are trying to lure me into a trap! You shall not capture me!" She clutches the scarf around her neck and backs away from you.

"Very well. I shall come back later." You give her a little nod with your head as a slight smile dances on your lips before turning and walking away.

"Your wickedness shall be punished!" The old woman calls after you, but you don't dignify her with a response as you follow the chime of a different soul, much further away. The black wings of a raven carry you to a little town further in the north. You perch on top of the church tower and look over the streets to see some spirits wandering the empty sidewalks below. The snow has covered everything in a thick layer of cold, shimmering white. The coughing echoing from the windows tells you your beloved god has been here before you. He must be close; you have felt his call for weeks now, urging you to find him. You look over the souls—some of them going about their business like they haven't realized their mortal coil is over, and others sounding out their prayers to whatever god they have devoted themselves to. The wind howls through the narrow alleyways, carrying with it the whispers of lost souls seeking redemption. Your purpose settles heavily on your shoulders, and you take flight again. You soar between the high building walls, letting the gust rip through your wings and scatter dark feathers into the abyss below.

Some of the dead watch in awe as you pass, their eyes filled with hope and longing for the freedom you possess. They reach out to touch your feathers and grasp the key you have provided. With tears streaming down their faces, they whisper their gratitude and prayers for your safe journey. With a glimmer of stardust, they disappear to return to the circle of reincarnation. You move on, knowing that their souls will now be reborn with a newfound sense of hope and purpose.

You spend the night shepherding the souls of the reaped into the afterlife, knowing that they are in good hands and will be born again soon. You followed the pull of your being as a roe deer through the forest, feeling the ancient magic guiding you towards the man you love most in all of your lives. You walk alongside him, but only the dead can see you, so you just blend in as one of his many shadows. Spirits, both neutral and malicious, follow him everywhere he goes, but you are there only to steal a glimpse. He moves so silently, his eyes trained on the path ahead. His face doesn't let on any emotion; he looks cold and calm. Almost dutiful. You know you will see him soon, but as dawn creeps over the horizon, you hurry back home to your sleeping body as a white rabbit, running across the fields and pastures.

He arrives again with frosted flowers covering your windows and gracing the surface of the puddles outside. The leaves of a creeping vine by your house collect jagged crystals on their edges. The air is still and the world is blanketed in a serene silence, the quiet crackle of the fire in the hearth providing the only sound. A wide smile graces your lips as you look at the approach of the god from your open door. Your heart is so full of joy and anticipation that it feels like it might burst. You have your arm outstretched as he gets closer, and he wordlessly takes your fingers into his cold hand. The chill of his touch sends a shiver down your spine. His lips press against the back of your hand, his freezing breath tingling your flesh. He cherishes the warmth of your skin and the way your free hand cups his cheek and lifts his chin. It makes life creep into him again to soothe the pain of frost in his chest. Your gorgeous eyes look at him so tenderly, no words need to be spoken to understand the mutual longing for each other. From the thousands of meetings you have had in the past, all the meaningful words have already been spoken in a hundred different languages, but none have ever felt as powerful as the silent exchange between your eyes in this moment. He lifts his head to step closer, your soft breath exiting as a white cloud from your lips. He moves the hand he still softly holds to his chest, his fingers wrapping around it as he presses it to where his heart used to be. He closes his eyes and whispers, "I miss you more than words can express, sweet Shepherd."

He feels the shadow of his heart start to beat again; it fills him with warmth and chases out the cold longing that births the northern winds. His whole body is enveloped in a sense of love and warmth. The blue marks grace his skin and leave you in awe, like they always do. You straighten up and reach to kiss his jaw line. This makes him open his steely eyes again and turn them on you. You can see the love and adoration in his gaze. The god of winter and death is gorgeous, with or without the marks, and you are overjoyed to call him yours. You can't help but smile as he pulls you into a warm embrace, melting away the coldness that usually surrounds him.

His lips find yours, capturing them in a tender dance, speaking of his longing and spilling the devotion he holds for you. Your hearts sing as one, and your souls are entangled for a single night before he must leave your side. Words don't need to be spoken at this moment. His skin feels warm again, and his embrace could be mistaken for human, just like all those thousands of years ago. He holds you tight, knowing that this fleeting moment is all you have.

You guide your lover inside your formerly warm house, but his presence grows the shadows and brings a chill no fire can warm. Yet you feel no cold . You are consumed by the passion of his touch, lost in the intensity of his gaze, and you realize that you would endure any darkness for just another fleeting moment with him. You would follow him into the depths of despair, knowing that his love is worth any sacrifice.

You stop as you reach the shaft of light that streams through the window, the remnants of daylight creeping into the shadow infested room. You turn towards him, your fingertips grazing the palm of his hand, teasing the promise of being entangled with his digits. You slowly trail them up along the veins of his arms, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your touch. Your fingers linger on the soft feathers growing from his collarbones, feeling the gentle rise and fall of his chest with each breath he takes. You pause as you caress his features, admiring the peaceful expression on his face. You touch his birthmark and nose, your thumb tracing the curve of his lips. He leans into your touch, a hand covering yours as it rests on his cheek. His lips part, and a hum of enjoyment escapes his throat.

You look at his eyes, and they are all you can think about; his face is etched into your soul like it's your mirror. He is there in your heart and mind, forever present in whatever body you are born in. As you speak his name, it is the softest word you know, it leaves a sweet taste on your tongue. It's a name you'll never forget, no matter how cursed you are. Life after life after life, you will speak it again and see these beautiful eyes gazing back at you.

His other hand goes to your lower back to pull you closer until you are pressed against his chest, feeling his heartbeat against your own. His lips kiss your eyes and trace along your nose before they meet yours. His love is a force of nature—unyielding and unwavering. It's a love that transcends time and space, binding your souls together in an eternal dance of passion and devotion.

He holds your face tenderly in his hands, his thumb trailing over the curve of your lips before he leans down to kiss you softly. His warm hands are so tender against your skin, and you melt into his touch. Your heart races as you hold on to him, wishing with all your heart that he didn't have to go. The moment feels fleeting, but you know that the memory of his touch will stay with you.

"This unearthly love is yours alone. It is merciless and suffocating. But for you, my sweetling, I would die a thousand times over." His lips brush over your cheek, leaving behind a trail of tingling warmth as he speaks.

He pulls away, revealing a smile on his lips that makes your heart ache with longing. The feelings in your chest swell, and you struggle to find the words to express the depth of your emotions. As he walks away, you are left standing there, feeling both grateful for the time you shared and devastated by his departure.

"Wait!" you call out and follow him along the path leading away from your house. You know the rays of sunshine creep over the roof of your house, starting to paint your frosted yard in a golden shimmer. You catch up to him, and he looks down gently as you grab his hand and squeeze it tightly.

"I love you. With everything I have. I love you. I always will. And this isn't fair. What they did to you… to us. It is cruel and unjust. And yet, here we are, standing together. I wish you could stay, but this is already proof that even though we fell, they lost." You look into his icy eyes and see the determination and resilience that will carry you both through the challenges until you see each other again. You caress his cheek and gently pull him closer to place another kiss on his lips. The warmth of his embrace envelops you, and you feel grateful for every moment spent with him.

"There they are! So it is true!" A murmur of different voices skips across the grass, and you look to see some men coming around the corner of your cottage. Your eyes glance over them to see that they carry weapons, mostly hand axes and spears, but a few have their swords drawn.

"So they are a witch! Conspiring with gods and demons!" An outroar ripples through the group of men, and you can assume there are more of them behind the corner.

"You have lured winter to our doors! You brought hunger and death to our land! Prepare to face the consequences of your treachery!" A different voice speaks up; it belongs to a man with crude leather armor and a sword.

You look wide eyed at the people you have known for your entire life. Among them are youngsters you used to play with, men who would greet you on the streets, and neighbors you have brought back from death's door. And now they all stand before you, ready to seek justice for the suffering brought to this land. The god shifts to stand in front of you, hiding you behind his mass of feathers reaching from his back. He doesn't speak a word as he glares at the mob, who has come with a thirst for blood.

This feels familiar. Glimpses of ancient times flash before your eyes. The way you prepared for battle against the gods of war. The way you wielded your gleaming sword with fierce determination and a heart full of rage. Your trusty extension is no longer with you; it has been replaced by a weak and mortal body not fit for fighting. You now stand among other mortals, stripped of your former strength and power.

You reach out your hand to touch your lover's back as a sign to stand down, but as your fingertips touch the feathers of his wings, you feel a surge of pain run through your body. You realize he has lingered by your side for too long; you are out of time. You pull back before he can rip at the threads holding your body and soul together.

"Go. Hide in the forest." His cold voice speaks without turning his head toward you. "I will take care of them."

You look around the broad back to see the mob move closer; it looks like every man from the nearby villages has gathered together to hunt you down. You back away from your lover to head to the dark wall of trees beyond your yard, hoping to find safety and escape the angry mob. It gets colder as you distance yourself from the god. The flimsy shawl doesn't offer you much protection against the biting wind that seems to be raising around you, picking up the light dusting of snow.

You hear more shouts and yells behind you, but the blood rushing in your head drowns out the rest. Where will you go now? Where can you run to and survive? The answers are not clear, but you know one thing for sure: You must keep moving. You need to get away from it all. As you can nearly duck into the shadows of the forest, you barely manage to pull away from the swing of an axe. You fall backwards into the crunching moss covering the forest floor. The frost underneath your fingers feels painful as it creeps beneath your nails. You see a few men coming towards you, including the one with the axe, and you scramble to your feet again.

The usually comforting forest is now filled with a sense of impending danger. It is filled with more than just shadows and your lover's demons. It reeks of hatred and blood lust. You run as fast as you can back towards your little yard and see your beloved look back at you with fear in his eyes. As the people close in on him, their weapons leave no marks on his skin. The god knows you are being cornered, and while he is immortal, you can be snatched away with ease. The candle of your life is flickering due to his presence alone as you run towards him. He needs to act fast. His fingers grab the neck of the man closest to him, and while usually the cold grasp of winter would be enough to snuff out a life like his, this time the puny mortal keeps fighting for his last breath in a desperate attempt to survive.

The god of winter and death realizes the warmth in his chest. It is you. Your presence has ignited spring within him as it should, his heart beating within his chest, robbing his shadowy powers. His presence alone isn't enough to protect you from these savages this time. Your love hinders him from laying waste to what threatens you.

He breaks the neck of the man he is holding and moves on with a speed unmatched by any human. The god tears through the immediate danger surrounding him before charging at the attackers on your heels. His wrath grows with every life he takes. He is determined to protect you at all costs. His feathers brush your cheek as he passes you, and you fall to your knees. You feel the fragile bond between yourself and this form fraying. He loves you to death. The god knows he is killing you. But he cannot stop, for your safety is his top priority. He has to secure you before he can leave your side. He must protect you from the hands of these fiends. He has failed you once before; he cannot allow it to happen again. He has to get away from you. Destiny and fate tease him with the dilemma of death as he rips through the mortal flesh of a man with a raised spear. His chest and feathers are covered in splatters of blood as he moves on to the next one. The symphony of violence plays in his ears, drowning out any thoughts of mercy or remorse. The only thing driving him forward is the primal instinct to keep you safe, no matter the cost.

The world is shut out as you hear a pair of footsteps approach. You raise your eyes to see a young man with his sword drawn. You want to run away; you need to scream or escape, but your strength has been torn from your weak body by the god of death. You kneel in front of him, your eyes begging for mercy, hoping that he will spare your life. In his gaze, you see fear and hatred. The curse you bear has been long forgotten by any mortal being. You cannot blame him for the dread he feels. The god of winter and death came for you; his presence introduces a bone-chilling cold that ruins crops and brings darkness to the southern land. The man before you demands your soul as payment for what he believes you have done to this world. You will find no mercy in his heart. He raises his sword and plunges it down into your chest.

Your hand grabs the blade as pain sears through your body. The man disappears from your sight, replaced by a display of beautiful feathers. You fall backwards, the tip of the weapon digging into the frozen ground below as blood paints the grass in vivid crimson. As your vision blurs, an arm wraps around your back, pulling you into a warm embrace. Your eyes look up towards the heavens, and a fleeting thought of cursing the other gods crosses your mind before the blue sky is replaced by eyes of the same color. Your hand, that's not bleeding around the blade, reaches up to gently touch his face.

The god grabs the hilt of the sword with his free hand as he watches the life quickly drain out of you. Is it the blade or the touch of his skin that does it? He does not know. Your being is unraveled as he leans closer, your vision fading to black. You wish to leave some words to him, but the breath escaping your lungs carries nothing but silence.

You are gone before his lips reach yours, so he hovers above them. He will not steal a last kiss from this body; you aren't there anymore. It is little more than a prison for the soul. He leans his forehead against yours, still clutching the sword and pressing you into his embrace. You are gone, leaving just a shell behind. You took his heart with him, and all the warmth you had filled him with seeps out of him with the tears he sheds, leaving only cold emptiness. The outstretched mess of wings that served to protect you start to grow blades of ice in-between the long feathers. Shadows gather around the god as hatred fills his mind. The down on his collarbones and neck grows into larger feathers, forming more wings as he lifts his enraged gaze up towards the few remaining people brave enough to face down the god of death. The people cower in fear, knowing that their fate now lies in the hands of a vengeful deity. His face turns monstrous, the eyes dark as the night, and feathers start to cover his face. He bares his elongating fangs at them. Shadows start to bubble up from between the wings, forming faces and clawed hands. The creatures of darkness escape the god and slither to the ground. They slink along the frosted ground, leaving a trail of ice in their wake. The sky darkens as the shadows grow longer until they reach the mortals. They freeze in terror as the creatures surround them, reaching out their hands to grab at them. Their souls are ripped from their meek bodies and consumed by the icy demons.

With a roar that shakes the earth, the god unleashes his full power, engulfing the land in darkness and merciless blizzards. The beastly deity bellows a deafening cry of grief that echoes through the meadows and forests. It skips over rivers and lakes. It shakes the mountains and leaves a sense of dread in the hearts of everyone across the lands. A chilling reminder of his immense power and wrath. The storm rages around him, spreading snow and demons in its wake. In the middle of the deathly horror is your latest body, frozen in time forevermore.

The beast stands up from the cold cradle he has created and chooses to move on, leaving destruction and chaos in his path. The grief robbing him of his human form, transforming him into a monster of pure rage and darkness. His empty chest bleeds with the longing of a heart that will never beat without you, consumed by the grasp of vengeance and hatred. Every step leaves frost and shadows behind; anything touched by the feathers gets ripped to shreds by the hidden blades of ice. He is searching again. Waiting for you to be reborn, to hear the siren song of your soul. It is so cold again.

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dreamingofep · 1 year ago

Text

Strangers in the Crowd pt. 11

(Elvis/Austin!Elvis × reader)

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Request: No, just another one of my delusional fantasies.

Prompt: You and your best friend are on your annual girls trip and go to see Elvis at the International.

Little did you know this would be a show you'll never forget. [Fem!Reader]

TW: Cussing, teasing/ tension, SMUTTT, oral sex,outside sex, daddy kink, spanking, the usual really dirty stuff.

Rating: Explicit/Mature (NSFW, 18+, so minors Do NOT Interact)

Word Count: 4.1K

A/N: Hello everyone! Its summer in Graceland and it hot 😏 if you know what I mean😉 Like I said previously, this fic is coming to its end very soon but I have other stories coming soon to that I’m VERY excited about and cannot wait to tell you more.

I'm so glad you've been liking this story so much! I also mentioned earlier that I’m also posting my fics on Ao3 so you can read my stuff there too if you want!☺️

This has been so much fun to write and hear your reactions! Enjoy! Sorry for any spelling mistakes or overall goofs.

Feel free to message me or comment what you think! 🖤

The Memphis sun baked into your skin today and radiated its warmth through your body. You were soon discovering how hot Memphis can get in the summers and you were not prepared for that by any means. The one nice thing about it was how your skin had a nice glowing tan now, one that matched Elvis’.

The first few weeks living at Graceland was something out of a dream. It felt wonderful to be with Elvis every day and get to know each other on a deeper level. He was so catering and his southern hospitality really shined through to make sure you felt like you were right at home. Anything you wanted, he would get you to make you the happiest while you were staying here. You didn’t have time to pack before you and Elvis got on his plane to go straight to Memphis. To be completely honest, you didn’t want to see anyone try and convince you to stay, and after the events that happened with your parents, you definitely didn’t want to hear it.

Elvis bought you an entire new wardrobe that was completely unnecessary, but was so generous of him to do that for you. You could tell a lot of the outfits were hand-picked by him based on how revealing some of them were.

It was an adjustment living with so many people all the time. The house was constantly buzzing until the later parts of the night, where you can hear the crickets sing and the house finally came to a still.

Night falls, and you decide to go for a swim. Elvis isn’t anywhere to be found so you’ll just go in by yourself. He has been a bit high-strung since he is opening in Vegas once again in a few days. He had been rehearsing in Los Angeles the last few weeks, going back and forth from there, and back to Memphis every few days to try to get the show perfect. This was going to be his third time playing in Vegas and wanted to make sure the show was fresh and exciting still. You assured him that it was going to be great, but he’s too much of a perfectionist to relax until it’s actually done. The added pressure of having it professionally filmed also weighed on him. MGM was filming six shows for this new movie so that meant Elvis has to find new songs for such. You wanted him to relax when he was home but he couldn’t fully enjoy the quiet. He was always picking up a guitar and playing or going to the piano.

This meant he was less attentive to you and your needs. Not that you were being selfish, it was just how it was. You respected that he was so dedicated of an artist that his craft was the most important thing to him. You knew this next show was going to be even better than what you experienced, and that’s saying a lot.

He’d show affection always, but the more close, intimate moments were brief, if at all present.

You didn’t take it personally, you understood, but you wanted him desperately. You wanted to find the right time to get him alone, and have him take you right there, no questions asked.

After rummaging through your drawer to find the right swimsuit, you decide to go with the high-waisted two-piece one with the cherry pattern on it. You grab a towel from the bathroom and go back downstairs to the pool.

You place your towel on one of the reclining sun chairs and dip your toes into the dark aqua pool. It was cool and brought a slight shiver to you, but with the blazing sun beating down on it all day made it feel like the perfect temperature to cool off at night. You quickly jump in and get the instant satisfaction of being able to feel so much more comfortable.

The pool isn’t large by any means, but big enough to do laps and get a nice workout in.

As you do your laps, your mind continues to wander to needing Elvis. You knew he wanted you too by just the look in his eye, but his mind was somewhere else and probably didn’t find it right to give you half of his attention when it came to that sort of stuff.

You take a break from swimming and float on your back, getting to stare at the shining stars twinkling in the sky.

“Well what do we have here,” Elvis teases.

You pop your head up to the sound of his voice and see him standing on the other side of the pool, wearing a pink short sleeve button up with black pants. His eyes have this wild child like glint of mischief when he looks at you.

“Nothing that would interest you,” you tease back. He chuckles softly and walks to the side of the pool you’re on.

“It looks like something I’d like,” he says, crouching down to see you closer. You swim closer to him, hanging onto the ledge of the pool by your fingertips, looking up at him between his legs.

“Why don’t you come in here and find out if it’s something you like,” you jest.

A devious smirk arises from him, “I see just fine right here baby.”

You reach out and pull at his shirt, popping off the first button. He looks down at the pearl pink button fall onto the concrete.

You stare pleadingly at him, the light beaming behind him from the back door fixture, cascading a shadow over him making him look like an angel. His golden tan skin gleaming and his black hair dancing in the breeze. Your hand continues to work his shirt buttons, trying to feel his skin touching yours.

“Come in baby, get those pants off,” you coo.

He lets out a exasperated laugh, “woman you know what I’m wearing under here,” he says smugly.

Yep you do… nothing.

“Are you being shy E? You don’t want to let little Elvis free for a swim?” You say cunningly.

His face flushed and he shakes his head at you in disbelief.

“I swear to God woman…” he trails off.

A devious little idea pops in your head and want to tease him further, make him have to get in here and pay attention to you. Your hands reach around to your back and untie the straps around your rib cage. Once they are free, you lift the top off your neck and throw it at his feet, making a splashing noise when it hits the ground.

“What do you think you’re doing?,” his voice full of concern and slight agitation.

“Nothing, I don’t know what you mean,” You say innocently. You bring you hands out to your side, kicking off the wall of the pool and away from him. Your chest elevates as you swim away and your nipples rise above the water, hardened by the cool water. His eyes grow in shock, checking over his shoulder to the back sliding door and the kitchen windows that no one was looking at the scene you were making.

“Y/n you better put this back on right now. I don’t want anyone seeing you like this,” he says firmly, his voice controlled and unplayful.

You shake your head no at him, swimming further away from him, drawing him to follow you to the other side of the pool. Your hands go back under water and pull your bottoms down, bringing them to the surface and ringing them out before throwing them in Elvis’ direction. His jaw drops and his eyes darken.

“Honey, I’m not playing with you, you better put these back on right now,” he growls. You know you should be carful, you’ve seen how his temper can flare when you don’t listen. But you didn’t care. You wanted his attention and this is how you were going to get it.

“Nope. Not until you get in here with me,” you sayin a snarky tone.

Elvis frustratedly throws your swim suit down on the ground and jumps in the pool after you. You quickly swim to the other side as you see him come up for air, wiping his hair out of his face, searching for you with wild eyes.

“Y/n, come here,” He barks. “You want someone to see you like this?!”

You can’t help but giggle at the rise you’re getting out of him.

“You’re going to have to come get me before I put any clothes back on,” you tease.

Staying in the deep end of the pool, you try to dodge him and swim away from him. Both of you are getting out of breath and your legs are getting tired. You can’t help but laugh at how serious he’s being right now. It’s a rare occasion when Elvis is dead serious and not cracking a joke. But the thought of one of the guys seeing you naked makes his blood boil and his temper flare off.

He catches up with you and pins you to the side of the pool wall, fire blazing wildly in his eyes as he grabs your arms stilling you. You’re in the middle of the pool and your feet don’t touch the ground anymore. He still stands up fine and gives him more leverage to pin you here and control your movements.

“I thought you knew how to listen to me after all this time, but instead you’ve just become more of an insolent little brat hmm?”

You push your hips into him and let out a soft sigh out, liking the much needed attention of his body on yours.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you say innocently.

“Oh, don’t you do that with me. I’m not gonna have that. You want someone to see you naked?” He fumes.

You take a second to look at his face, seeing the clear frustration but nonetheless beautiful and very distracting.

“If I were to say yes… is daddy going to punish me?” You say in a hushed whisper, your hand wandering down underwater to his bulge, squeezing it in your hand and watching him jump.

He looks at you in shock, waiting for you to say anything else.

“Yes, I’ll have to show you who you belong to,” he growls. “No other man gets to see you naked but me,” possessiveness dripping off his tongue. He lets go of you and gets out of the pool.

He stands in front of you, his clothes dripping wet and clung to his body, showcasing his best assets right in front of you. He looks so inviting, so handsome, you want to get on your knees for him right now.

“Get out of the pool,” he commands.

“You want to at least grab my towel,” you say snappy.

He makes a snide chuckle, “Since you don’t care if anyone will see you, thought you wouldn’t need one.” He barks.

You bite the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from smirking, knowing your little game is working.

“No you’re right baby. That was a silly thing to ask for,” you say challengingly.

You wade over to the steps to get out of the pool and step out, brushing back your wet hair out of your face and letting it fall on your back.

The look on his face on priceless, the disbelief that you would actually walk around naked out of the pool so confidently shocks him to the core.

You walk by him, flicking your wet hair in his direction and walking to the lounging chairs where you had left your pool towel. His eyes burn holes into your backside watching you walk away. You nonchalantly pat your body dry, ringing your hair out, and taking a seat on the chair. You stretch your arms out above you and let them dangle off the chair. You hear his footsteps coming toward you and he stops right in front of you.

“You think this is a game?” He questions harshly. “I’m not going to ask again,” he cautioned.

You shake your head no at him, reaching to touch his cock again, feeling him tense up.

“Daddy’s going to have to teach you a lesson,” he growls, grabbing your wrist tightly, pulling your hand away from him.

Your core throbs at his words, needing his undivided attention more than anything.

“I’m going to need a long, in-depth lesson before I fully understand, daddy, and then I’ll listen” your words with an icy edge.

You reach for the towel behind your head and stand up, wrapping it around yourself and tucking in the corner at your breast.

Reaching down for his top button of his pants, you push the button through and slide down his zipper. You reach your hand into his pants and wrap your hand around his shaft, moving it up and down slowly.

“Daddy, please forgive me. I promise I’ll listen,” you coo.

You feel him get hard in your hand and watch as he sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth, fighting the urge to succumb to you. The heat radiating off of him felt suffocating and made you want to crumble at his feet even easier than you could imagine.

He spins your body around, making it so his back is facing the back door and windows.

“Get on your knees and show me how sorry you are,” he commands, his fingers tracing the hem of the towel resting on your breasts. He pulls it down off of you, leaving you standing naked in front of you. The darkness of the night didn’t stop his eyes from glimmering with that mischievous glint.

“Mhmm, yes daddy,” you say softly, sinking to your knees at his feet.

He pulls his cock and balls out of his pants and glides his hand over his shaft, stroking it sprightly.

“Open that mouth for me baby,” he quips.

You obey and open your mouth, waiting for his tip to touch your tongue.

He pushes his hips forward, plunging his cock to the back of your throat. You instantly gag, not ready for his long length to be inside you like this. You squeeze onto the back of his thigh with your hands, needing to take some of his length out of you.

His hands reach into your hair, pulling your head back, making you look up at him.

“You’re gonna take this cock like a good girl. Take your punishment for not listening to me,” he growls. You whimper at his instructions, opening your mouth once again for him.

He lets out a pleased groan and puts his cock back inside your mouth, keeping the firm grip he has in your hair.

He fucks your mouth vigorously, making the most vile sounds come out of you and drool spilling from the slides of your mouth.

He changes pace and starts to push your head forward, taking in more of his cock while he keeps his hips still. You flatten your tongue out on the bottom of his shaft and watch as he lets out a breathy moan. You can’t help but smile that you can make such noises come out of him.

You try to suck as much as he would let you, letting out moans as he pulled out of you to let you breathe. Your hand slowly inches for his balls, cupping them softly and massaging them lightly in your hand. He pushes his hips forward as he feels you doing this, having you take his entire length in your mouth. You lick at the base of his cock, hearing his deep groans that fill the otherwise still night. Putting more pressure on his balls, you feel him tense in your mouth.

He groans and moves his hips slower while he’s inside you. You’re almost sure he’s going to cum like this, but he pulls his length out of your mouth and has you just focusing on his head and massaging his balls in your hand.

“Oh fuck mama, yes,” he gasps pulling himself out of you, “use your mouth on my balls now,” he directs as you gasp for air.

You eagerly take his shaft in your hand and start jerking it, placing your mouth near his sac. You give one long lick causing him to gasp. You use your fingertips to push his sac to your mouth, wanting to suck on one of his balls and shower him with attention.

You suck on one and his cock twitches in your hand. You test how much pressure you can put to make him groan the most. You lick and suck on his balls while still slowly jerking him off in your hand. You love the sounds he’s making, sounding like sweet music to your ears.

You had never done this before so it did make you a little nervous, but you would experiment with what he liked. Like the rest of him, his balls were large and heavy making your mouth water for him. He lets out a loud gasp as your tongue swirls around his teste, bringing a new pleasure to him when you have it inside your mouth.

He pulls you away from him, leaving a sucking pop sound with you release his ball from your mouth.

“Fuck mama, you’re killing me,” he says breathlessly. You can’t help but giggle slightly at his reaction to all of it. You could keep going if he would let you but he lets out a frustrated grumble as you look up at him with his cock still in your hand.

He doesn’t like the reaction from you, he doesn’t want to hear you enjoying your punishment for acting out so childishly. “Your punishment isn’t over yet baby. Get up.”

Elvis tucks himself back into his wet slacks and reaches for the towel that’s fallen on the floor to cover you, wrapping his arms around your torso and picking you up. He makes long, quick strides into the cool, air conditioned house, sneaking you down to the basement and into the jungle room.

He placed your body face down over the arm of the couch sitting in the middle of the room, your hands stretched out in front of you holding yourself up.

“You’re such a bad girl, always liking your punishments too much.” He grabs your hair again, pulling your head back and places a hard spank on your ass. The pain of it spreads through you like wildfire making you cry out.

“Elvis!” You say loudly, squirming out of his touch. He stills you putting a firmer grip on your hair and your hip. His hand comes down again and the sound of the spank is the only sound that fills the room. You let out another cry, hearing Elvis make a guttural noise.

“Elvis, Please!” You beg.

His hand comes down again and your eyes fill with water, pleasure seeping through when he gives another spank.

“Ah fuck,” you whimper.

His hands caress the swell of your ass, getting dangerously close to your folds. You feel your wetness pool more, making you want him badly. His fingertips brush your folds and the wetness spilling out of them. You push your hips back into his fingers more, wanting him to plunge them knuckle deep inside you. You hear him start to peel his wet clothes off of himself behind you and throw them to the side.

“Daddy, please,” you cry.

“You just love when daddy gives you attention Hmm?” He asks.

“Mhmmm, yes daddy I’ve missed you,” you groan.

“I know baby, being such a good little slut for me.”

His tip rubs against your folds as he continues to praise you. With a grunt, he plunges his cock inside you, stuffing you to the hilt. Both of you loudly groan and cry for more. You drive your hips back with him, wanting him to take you rough.

“Fuck me daddy,” you gasp, pushing your hips back with his.

Elvis cusses and lets out a pent up groan, making your pussy throb. He keeps one hand on your hip, using it as leverage when he snaps his hips into you, the other slithered down from your hair and wrapped around the front of your neck, keeping a light pressure on it, giving you a delicious tingling sensation.

His thrusts are hitting all the right places and with how sexually needy you’ve been, it’s not going to take very much to make you finish. He knows it too. The sounds you’re making for him tells him how good he’s making you feel and that you can’t take very much.

Suddenly he pulls out of you, leaving you breathless and begging for more.

“Baby, please. Don’t stop,” you pant, looking over your shoulder.

“Have you learned your lesson? Are you going to pull a little stunt like that again?” He questions.

“No daddy, I won’t I promise.” You plead.

He pulls your upper body up and goes to sit on the couch, his long legs spread out and his cock getting lazily tugged on in his hand.

“Then come and ride daddy. I want you to finish like this,” he beckons.

You stare at the man before you and get a chill just looking at him. You nod your head at him in compliance and straddle his frame. You hover over his cock, he lines you up and pushes your hips down onto him, sinking your wet heat all the way down his shaft. He cusses with how tight you feel and you feel the throbbing begin to feel unconsolable.

You glide yourself up again and watch his face this time as you sink back down on him hard. His face forms into pleasure, his eyes looking into yours, then down along your breasts as they begin to bounce as you ride him faster. He groans loudly, sending an electric shock to your core by just the sounds he makes when he’s getting fucked.

Your hands grip tightly in his wet hair as you ride him, not being able to get enough of him.

He leans his head back onto the couch, letting you take most of the control. He still has his hands on your hips, squeezing them tightly.

The coil and heat in your belly feels like it’s going to unravel any second now and he knows it. Your whimpers and moans increase as you swivel your hips back and forth, rubbing your clit on him in the process.

He stills you suddenly, making a shrill cry come out of you. He bores those serious blue eyes into you and bites his lip.

“Do you deserve to cum baby?” He asks.

You gasp and try to move your hips down but he won’t let you until you answer him.

“Yes, daddy, make me cum please. I’ve been a good girl,” you gasp.

He sinks you back down on him and helps you move up and down in his length. His fingers find your bud and rubs it like only he can.

Before you know it, your vision is filled with stars and you scream his name. He groans loudly when he watches you cum all over him, squeezing his cock and gasping for breath.

He finishes deep inside you, his member pulsating quick, thick spurts of his seed. You keep riding him even though your body is becoming exhausted. You don’t really know when the next time you’ll get him like this so you want to selfishly stay on him as long as you can.

Elvis grunts when you continue to grind on him and he sees your pleasure filled face riding him into oblivion.

“Mama, you’re gonna have to slow down you’re killin’ me,” he says gently through gasps.

You try and catch your breath, grabbing into his shoulders and calming yourself down.

“Sorry baby I got excited,” you tease.

“I’m not going anywhere baby. You can get more later if you want it. You don’t have to act out like a little devil to get my attention.” He assures.

You pauses looking away, “I know but you’ve been so busy. I didn’t want to bother you…” you trail off.

The look of realization washes over his face and his eyes grow sorrowful.

“Oh god baby, is that what this was all about? I haven’t been very attentive have I? Oh honey I’m so sorry,” he says pulling you in to embrace.

“It’s okay honey I know you’re under a lot of pressure. I didn’t want to distract.”

He looks at you smugly, “you are my favorite distraction though. Please tell me if you need something you know I’ll do it for you,” he says sweetly.

You nod your head and smile, “okay honey. I will I promise.”

“Good girl. Let’s get you upstairs so I can ruin you some more,” he says devilishly.

“Elvis! You need your rest before opening night. I can’t be the one held responsible for keeping you up all night. I’ll be fine,” you say exasperated.

“We’ll how about this, the show opens in three days, and I promise to get rest and be in top shape for the shows. But,” he pauses and pulls your chest to his, “I’m not going to let you sleep the first night we’re there. I want to ruin that perfect pussy of yours,” he says in a low sensual whisper.

Your heart skips when you hear him talk to you like this, “okay daddy.”

•

Tagging🩵: @powerofelvis @plasticfantasticlOver @burninlovebutler @neptuneismysister @velvetelvis @ccab @presleyenterprise @elvispresleyxoxo

@prompted-wordsmith @sillybookmarks @dkayfixates @rosepresley @ellie-24 @rktismylife-blog @myradiaz @lookingforrainbows @elvispresleygf @tacozebra051 @thatbanditqueen

@18Ikpeters @flwrs4aust @emma181873 @austinswhitewolf @eliseinmemphis @everythingelvispresley @chasingwildflowers @idontwanttoputanything @ohjustpeachy @elvisalltheway101 @austinsmutler @kingdomforapony @generoustreemystic @kendralavon7

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welcomehomerandomness · 1 year ago

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Welcome Home Website Update Reaction Notes (7/22/2023) Part 1 (SPOILERS)

Hey guys! Today I'm gonna show you my reactions to the Welcome Home website via my notes on Google Docs. I wrote 5 pages and spent around 5 or 6 hours exploring the website lol. Hope you enjoy it! Here's Part 1!

NEW HOME ART

The little Home doodle is so cute omg

FRANK AND BARNABY’S VOICES IN “ANSWER” OMG

Barnaby’s voice is honestly like a mix of Rowlf and Fozzie from the Muppets which matches well with his personality

Frank’s voice is like a mix of Gonzo from the Muppets and Gyro from DuckTales (the 2017 one)

THERE’S A GLITCH AT THE END WHAT

The Frank and Julie sprites on the FAQ page is so cute

THE STICKERS ARE SO CUTE

THE SEASONAL BANNERS

Wally and Barnaby (Winter), Frank and Eddie (Spring), Sally and Julie (Summer), and Howdy and Poppy (Fall/Autumn)

I just realized the golden flowers on Home’s sticker give me Undertale vibes

The Frank and Julie sprites on the News page is so cute too

Question Answerer seems sus

THE NEIGHBORS HAVE AUDIO WITH TEXT TRANSCRIPTS I REPEAT THE NEIGHBORS HAVE AUDIO WITH TEXT TRANSCRIPTS

“That’s the most!” Awww Wally

The drumroll on Barnaby’s audio and his little awkward laugh I love him

Yes Julie let’s play a game with a pogo stick, a bowl of pasta, and a pair of roller skates and cause chaos in the Neighborhood lol

I swear I will be depresso if Frank, Eddie, and Howdy get hurt or die…Those three are on my top 3 favorite WH characters (in no specific order) :(

I should make a list of favorite Welcome Home neighbors lol

Anyways

YES FRANK YOU ARE PERFECT JUST THE WAY YOU ARE

I love Eddie’s Southern accent and the way he talks sorta reminds me of Launchpad from DuckTales (the 2017 one)

Awww Eddie is scared of a bug and he wants Frank’s help awww

Eddie doesn’t want his paper chains to be ruined :(

I realized the Frank and Eddie one is also called “answer” and so far the two videos mention bugs and Frank is in each video

HOWDY’S VOICE

He definitely sounds like one of those people working on radio stations

I feel like if he’s not a shopkeeper, he would definitely work on a radio station

Howdy’s Radio Podcast when???

Sally’s voice is so dramatic and I love it

*insert scared Poppy chicken/bird noise*

Also is Poppy alright? I’m kinda worried :(

The voices of the neighbors are fantastic so far the voice actors did really great in their roles :D

Poppy and Frank = best cooking/baking duo

I wonder what those seed things taste like…They probably taste good

Frank mentions Wally eating with his eyes

The third “answer” video with Poppy and Frank mentioning butterflies

I love the Sally and Howdy sprites on the Merchandise page

The “duet” page with Wally on the phone is kinda eerie

Wally sounds dead inside

I love you too Wally lol

The rimshot and horn honk on Barnaby’s phone audio lol

Don’t worry Barnaby your jokes always make me laugh

I love Barnaby’s little “Buh bye!”

I reread "It's-For-You!" Talking Telephone Toy page, I thought it said “Mario, Inc.” instead of “Marlo, Inc.”

Super Mario is canon in this universe jk

Julie’s voice is freaking adorable

I wanna listen to Frank’s bug facts everyday

Frank freaking slanders Barnaby

I love Eddie’s jingle

I wanna get some school supplies from Eddie now lol

I love Howdy’s laughs lol

Protect Howdy at all costs

I love the “ta-da!” jingle from Sally

“…I said ‘Hellooo!’ That’s your cue!” Sally radiates theater kid energy and I love her

Poor Poppy doesn’t know how a phone works :(

*insert more scared Poppy chicken/bird noises*

Howdy’s and Frank’s letters to Wally are so wholesome

I love the insect sketches

Sally calls Julie “Juliet” that’s a cute name

Eddie is the most OP character lol

But can Eddie beat Goku tho???

I think Howdy is OP too but who knows

Julie asking Eddie to catch him is basically the “If I run and leap at Terry” scene from Brooklyn Nine-Nine

Also I actually don’t watch Brooklyn Nine-Nine btw I just know the memes

Anyways

When Frank said “Oh my”, I imagine them blushing asdfghjkl

I forgot to put this here but I love when Frank calls Eddie “Mr. Dear” that’s so cute

I love Julie and Frank’s besties dynamic in the “answer” video

PUPPET WALLY’S REFLECTION ON ONE OF THE RECORDS

I wanna buy every single merch if they are real lol

The live interview reminds me of those Muppet and Sesame Street interviews and it’s quite charming ngl

“Oh no, I don’t know. I love everyone. I love my friends.” Wally poly confirmed???

The interviewer’s name is Rick (and Morty asdfghjkl)

Miss Beagle is mentioned!!!

“I tell ya, we got a neighbor who's got an arm like a professional baseball player! It’s not easy!” Is Barnaby talking about Julie or Eddie?

I want to watch the "Julie-rella" segment so bad

Also Fairy "Dog"-mother lmao

Hopscotch To The Max wtf hahaha

“It took us an hour to get you down off Howdy's roof, and we still don’t know where the green chalk went…” Julie, you played hopscotch on Howdy’s roof???

I love Frank’s and Julie’s singing voices

I love how Barnaby just barges in and Frank is like “wtf”

I love Barnaby’s singing voice too

“Aw. I wanted to learn the colors.” Awww Wally is so adorable

“Wally, don’t look! He’s INDECENT!” That actually made me laugh even as I’m rereading the transcript and typing this down

A wild Howdy appears! *insert Pokemon battle music*

Also some of the “Just So” song demo seems to be distorted…That’s sus

The concept art of Julie’s “Just So” Bowling Dress is so cute

I also love how Frank and Julie wear outfits that match the games they play that’s so wholesome

Howdy’s laughs cure my depression

I love Howdy slapping the countertop when he laughs

Sole and Lyco awww

Awww Frank’s little “thank you”

“I’m sorry, I’ll see what I can do.” AWWW

I love when Julie translates to what Frank’s plants are saying it’s so wholesome

Eddie: *talks about the entire plot of Jack and the Beanstalk which involves Jack climbing up the beanstalk, encountering a giant, and cutting down the beanstalk with a big ax*

Poppy who is dressed as the beanstalk: Haha. I’m in danger.

Wally’s puppet hands are holding some yarn in “answer” but he seems that he’s not moving…

I can barely hear Poppy and Howdy’s dialogue in the videeo since I don’t have headphones on but I assume it’s a friendly conversation as usual since I can hear Howdy’s laugh lol

Wally’s hand trying to grab the cup of tea??? coffee??? in “answer”

Poppy and Sally talking about plays as usual lol

A human hand??? With a glove???

I don’t know who this human is but I’m pretty sure she’s a Howdy fan lol

I’m answering the Welcome Home worksheet because why not lol

1) Barnaby 2) Sally 3) Poppy 4) Julie 5) Wally

Now where’s my prize/j

I’m guessing that Wally replica puppet is going to come to life lol

I wanna go to this exhibition so bad if this is real lol

Awww the Poppy and Barnaby sprites…

I accidentally clicked the “Hello” doodle on the Guestbook and I’m scared

The page is called “Find”

Wally??? Wally you ok???

#welcome home #welcome home arg #welcome home spoilers #wally darling #barnaby b beagle #julie joyful #frank frankly #eddie dear #howdy pillar #sally starlet #poppy partridge #welcome home home

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whumpbug · 6 months ago

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oc silly fun fact game ( ๑˘ω˘ )

i'm going to share a little fun fact about my ocs because they are Stewing in my mind and i invite all my mutuals and followers to do the same! i'm going to tag a few here: @seth-whumps @mellowwhumps @whumperofworlds @whump-snob but this is completely not forced, feel free to tell me if you'd rather not be tagged! and also feel free to tag others!

my oc intros are here and here !

OK onto the silly facts:

✮⋆˙

simon:

simon's first language is actually spanish (despite my being awful at it) and it slips out every so often. usually when he's half asleep or frusturated (much like gene's accent, which i'll get to later). a lot of his cursing is done in spanish, and archie finds its adorable if not a little scary. sometimes, simon will sleep talk in spanish and archie uses his 4 years of highschool spanish to try and talk back. it usually goes like this.

simon, very much asleep: voy.. voy a ir a la nevera.. (i'm.. i'm going to go in the fridge..)

archie, stifling laughter: tendrás frío, ¿no? (you'll be cold, won't you?)

simon: no. llevo calcetines. (no. i'm wearing socks.)

[cue archie dying of laughter and simon simply turning over and going back to deep sleep]

archie:

archie fully, wholeheartedly believes aliens exist. his rationale is "if i can survive a literal poison being injected into my body and get super powers, who am i to deny that there's life on a different planet." simon is more neutral on the subject, but archie sometimes spends hours talking his ear off about what it would be like to actually meet an alien.

archie has an alien on his keychain too. he just loves the idea of space, incase you can't tell by his star wars obsession. still, as i mentioned in the previous oc question post, he prefers sunbathing more than star gazing because whats better than billions of small stars? one HUGE star that lights up the entire sky and radiates warmth.

gene:

gene's mother was born and raised in louisiana and had a THICK southern accent. his father was a ranch hand so when he was little, he spent almost all of his time with his mother and because of that, sometimes a louisiana accent peeks through when he's talking. it usually happens when he's speaking fast without thinking, like if hes angry or happy or upset. cassidy finds it incredibly endearing.

when gene's real drunk, it gets even worse. everything he says comes out as a slurred jumble of contractions and hiccups and by that point, not even he can understand what hes saying anymore.

cassidy:

cassidy's always been a little too cocky for his own good, but he'll never be over-confident with horses again. when he first got scotch, he went around to the entire gang bragging about how quickly he broke him in and that he and scotch were already completely bonded. when he was trying to show this to one of the other guys, he got behind scotch and gave his flank a smack, to show off how scare-proof he was, of course. this resulted in a swift kick to the groin and an inability to ride for the next week and a half.

cassidy now has a healthy respect for scotch, and keeps a healthy distance from his backside.

✮⋆˙

hope u guys enjoy and im excited to see any info anyone shares on their ocs! anyone is welcome to particpate in this if they'd like!

#oc ask game #oc questions #tag game #oc tag game #not whump #archie and simon #gene and cassidy

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actualsunflower · 2 years ago

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Just found your blog, I love your art and I love Jay!! Tell me more about him? He and Nick seem so sweet 🥺🥺🥺

jfghsdjfgs thank you so much?!! Hmmmmm I have so much to say I don't even know where to start ok so to keep it short and simple (this won't be short or simple LOL) so Jay is actually a plant mutant vault experiment, and also the son of an artifact holder (Like Lorenzo, my NV oc Fyre is Jay's dad, and was Lorenzo's partner and an archeologist. When they found the Artifact Lorenzo wears, in my fic they actually found multiple pieces, and his dad has a choker that can't be removed now, but Jay was born long after he had the artifact) so he essentially has inherited alien-artifact powers, but not to a crazy extent. It's like all the basic alien-artifact serum powers in game, stronger, immune to most sickness, resilient, extra long life, that stuff. But in my fic each artifact had it's own general set of "powers" along with the "buffs". For example, Lorenzo has telekinesis in game, Jay's dad's choker had telepathy/empathy. Jay can only hear the thoughts of/communicate with animals though, because his inherited powers aren't as strong. He does have empathy with humans though, just not telepathy. Jay doesn't know of his dad or the actual reason for his weirdness until way late in his life, because his mom gave him up for adoption and he never met his birth parents (he doesn't care to either he loves his adoptive lesbian mothers too much to care) Prewar, Jay was a nurse practitioner (he wanted to be a forest ranger but one of his mom's was too scared of his really bad driving and didn't want him to get lost/drive off a road or something,) before the war, moved from southern Oregon to Massachusetts for schooling. He gets married, and later is drafted and about 4ish years before the start of the game he gets shot in the head (rip), lives, but is in a coma for 3 months. He stays at a hospital in Vegas for 2 months.. while he's there, Vault Tec scientist Cedric hears of a dude at the hospital whole lived being shot in the head and is set to be frozen in Vault 111 when the bombs drop. Cedric was one of the scientists going into Vault 22, and he had a personal project where he was trying to modify the DNA of humans with sunflower dna to see if they could process radiation as either a source of nourishment or simply be unaffected by it, as sunflowers do. Sunflowers irl are used to clean up nuclear fallout, which was the inspiration for this as well as the Solar Powered perk! So while Jay was in a coma, the guy spliced his exceedingly handsome dna with Sunflower dna, turning him into the world's first (and best) human flower. Then, Jay was taken back to Mass. and woke up about a month later. He doesn't know about that until long after the war Cedric is an important character later in my fic he's still alive and is a ghoul slowly going feral Being shot in the head does make Jay go mostly blind and deaf though, he can't move or see from his right eye at all and his hearing is almost completely gone on the same side, but it's better on the left. he usually closes his right eye to focus on stuff so it looks like he's winking all the time lol Then the war happens, Jay is frozen, in the vault, and then eventually is rescued from the ice prison by Codsworth, Preston and Struges. The experiment made him able to photosynthesize, he's immune to radiation, gets very tired at night/in the dark, smells like sunflowers and is sadly very susceptible to the cold I was going to write more about Nick and how amazing he is and how much they love each other but this is so long.

also I know this all probably sounds super insane. But I built everything off in game lore and perks so it seems crazy but I can explain in some way I feel like Charlie at the pepe silvia board though

#sunflower asks #oh my god i had this bottled up for so long.#it's like 2 am. i have so much to say #i didnt even EXPLAIN THEM just like HEY THIS IS THE WEIRDEST STUFF ABOUT JAY #i cant even be normal about this there's nothing normal about this man #jay evarhart-valentine #don't worry i WILL talk about Nick

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bopinion · 2 years ago

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2023 / 02

Aperçu of the Week:

“What you do makes a difference. And you have to decide what kind of difference you want to make.”

(Dr. Jane Goodall, Scientist & Animal rights activist)

Bad News of the Week:

In Kriebethal, Saxony, young refugees who came to Germany without parents - so-called "unaccompanied minor refugees" - are to be housed. It's ideal that a foster home is currently empty, because it's only a transitional period of six months and just 10 to 12 children and adolescents plus caregivers. No big deal. Actually. And yet there is tremendous resistance.

Spurred on by the right-wing populist AfD ("Alternative for Germany") and the far-right (officially categorized as such by the State Office for the Protection of the Constitution!) movement "Free Saxons", citizens from the region took to the streets to protest. Basically against refugee housing in their perfect world. Basta. That these old familiar ringleaders pounce with enthusiasm on every new topic with which they can march against "the regime" from Berlin and the state capital Dresden is standard. That so many of the population after "Against the Euro", "Against Corona measures", "Against the European Union", "Against Russia sanctions" etc. but now also against the weakest of the weak can be instrumentalized - or worse: actually think like that - makes me but a little stunned.

It is important to know that refugees are also distributed throughout Germany according to the "Königstein Key," which takes into account both population and economic strength at the district level. So that it remains fair. And not overburden anyone. In this respect, this dwarf revolt is also undemocratic. But unfortunately this is not really surprising, especially in Saxony, where some parts of the population have a tradition of xenophobia (I am allowed to say this, since with a father from the East I can hardly be accused of bias). After all, at the time, tens of thousands of "Pegida" ("Patriots against the Islamization of the Occident") took to the streets of Dresden to demonstrate against Islamic foreign infiltration - with just 0.2% Muslims in the entire state.

The whole thing reminds me of a statement made by then-Chancellor Angela Merkel in 2015, when the right-wing peddled the argument that a million refugees (out of a population of 83 million) would "overcrowd" Germany: If there are already 83 people in a hall, it is not suddenly overcrowded if just one more enters. This calculation would result in an increase of 1.2%. In Kriebstein, to whose municipality Kriebethal belongs, there are a good 2,000 inhabitants. And we are talking about a maximum of 12 minors, i.e. 0.6% - that's just about half of it.

I am particularly annoyed by the whole thing, since it was precisely the new federal states that benefited disproportionately from the solidarity of others after the reunification of Germany. From economic development, which favored the East for decades, to the social safety net, which, for example, secured pensions for which no one had paid even a cent (or penny at the time) into the system. No one expects thanks for this. Because it was and is a matter of course of openness and kindness of heart. Which should also apply in this case. "Unaccompanied", "minor" and "refugee" - this triad is a horror for those affected. To this must not be added the feeling of being excluded, of being unwelcome, of having to fear.

Good News of the Week:

According to various experts, the ozone layer is well on its way to complete recovery. The atmospheric layer that protects humans and nature from ultraviolet solar radiation was extremely endangered in the 1980s. Initial effects were measurable in the southern hemisphere in particular, e.g. increased skin cancer rates in Australia.

Now, the World Meteorological Organization (WMO), the United Nations Environment Programme (Unep) and various researchers in the USA and Europe agree that a complete regeneration can be expected by about 2066, starting with the Arctic and ending with the Antarctic. And fortunately without geoengineering such as the introduction of aerosols into the atmosphere with feared incalculable effects on the world climate.

Crucial to this success is the implementation of the 1987 Montréal Protocol, which banned chlorofluorocarbons (CFCs). This substance, formerly commonly used in sprays or refrigerators, was clearly identified as the primary source of damage to the ozone layer. And it worked. It can be that simple. Downright exemplary.

Exactly: an example. For CO2 abatement that is. If it was possible almost half a century ago to reach agreement on acting together to ban a substance that is clearly damaging to the basis of life, I don't see why it shouldn't work again. Come on!

Personal happy moment of the week:

What does "happy" actually mean exactly? Does it have to be the opposite of "sad" or can it also be seen as a kind of emotional fulfillment? Yesterday I went to the funeral of the mother of an old school friend. Along with a dozen others who sat together in the classroom nearly forty years ago. A sad occasion, actually, of course. But to experience how old comrades, who don't see each other too often (especially in the last years), embrace each other without big words, to feel a familiarity that has nothing to do with gloating buddiness, but simply with friendship, just gave me a good feeling.

I couldn't care less...

Fear of the possibly evil mother-in-law. Stupid jokes from dad. Fights with the older brother. Bad taste in costumes. First drug experience at 17. Family reservations about the partner. Self-distancing from war traumas. A groom drinking at his wedding. Did I forget one of the sensational revelations from the House of Windsor? Yes, I meant that ironically. For me, the most remarkable thing about this hard-to-follow hype about Harry & Meghan is the lucrative self-promotion, with which the two certainly take in no less than working royals. And all the media are playing along. And not just the ones on display at the hairdresser's.

As I write this...

...I once again resolve never to fall for Netflix hype again. While "Kaleidoscope" didn't turn out to be as big a waste of time as "Squid Game", it didn't live up to any great expectations. Let's see what new series we'll start tonight. Maybe "Wednesday" - nobody really seems to have that on their mind ;-)

Post Scriptum

Crises everywhere are not enough for the US Republicans. No, they want to use their majority in the House of Representatives, which started off with a rumble, primarily to attack Joe Biden. "The Biden family's business dealings involve a wide range of crimes, from human trafficking to possible violation of the Constitution," claims, for example, James Comer, freshly minted chairman of the Oversight Committee. Or Jim Jordan, chairman of the Committee on the Judiciary, who announced in all seriousness that Biden had ordered the FBI to bribe Twitter to censor conservatives. Of course, one of the duties of Parliament is to control the government. However, you should have learned in your school days that you don't go out to play until your homework is done.

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the-firebird69 · 1 month ago

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We do hear in some songs about us but really I usually it's them using her name again sometimes it's not. Sometimes people are having its song but it really means this is no place for our people there are ways to escape in places too and so forth and you need to. This radiation is very high here are these people are nuts out of the 3.8 million mack more like that came here last night only about 1.5 million are here now about 2 million evacuated they said the radiation is making me nuts and then they're racing and they can't take it all and another 500,000 are leaving momentarily and said I can stand it but I'm juicing like crazy and it's not working and the remaining 1.3 million are deteriorating about 300,000 are dead and the million left are getting sick and their leadership higher levels than those in the rings and The glades of the Old timers originals really high level guys are down to 30,000 but $1,000 died last night and 2,000 evacuated the neighborhood is at 79 households in holding but not for long 20 households are going to the rings tonight or this week and we feel they will be gone bring it to 59 and it's going to steadily go down Jason has only about seven households and he feels that they'll be there and their son probably moved back and he'll be there leaving in a week after that and he'll try things that are horrible and lose it's going to happen believe it or not we know about it not only have we seen it before but he's screaming what he's going to do and we know what we react like there's some more happening we're going to inform you of later and not too much longer than from now but these are huge events all coming up at the end of this week giant events here where the mouth of the harbor is going to open up more and drop more and oxygen will pour in and salt Air and possibly the southern tip will drop and Charlotte harbor will probably drop another 3 ft by then and it will go faster but the park will drop by Friday as well radiation is very high now and it's going to be a little higher it's going to continue in this vein for a while and people should get ready because that's what it's going to be. Our son has some money stored up and his spot is somewhat secure because these pseudo Empire is taking measures here and out there we can breathe a little easy but not for long he's more like will start attacking and then they will get attacked fiercely and laid to waste there are other things we'll mention in a moment

Thor Freya

Olympus

That's very good it gives a heads up about this week and he does do that every few weeks this week being a very huge week with huge events happening by the 5th or on it or by this weekend. There are a couple more things that are going to happen one of them is social security and hopefully the payment goes through and my husband is going to try for more money now he's going to get more situated but it's not a ton of stuff you can do but there are a few I'm going to help with for you they're not really huge things but I'm going to help him with it other things are being said and they might not be accurate we do feel the fifth is a day where certain people are going to go missing and stay missing for a Time and Tony F will be threatened like madness and we do feel that it's going to roll into the 15th and it'll be 10 days it'll be kind of hellish but in the interim we feel that the event with Uncle Phil at hers and it might happen before the 5th or near it and what happens on the 5th is also pushed my Uncle Phil's people and the people in the movie cocaine bear are up there in the movie and it's a cross section I think it's very angry at them and helps out and it goes bad then I think that they attack him very quickly by the way and it doesn't go well I'm so weird watching that and it'll be before what we think happens on the 15th now it happens on the 15th it just so happens bja doesn't do much about it and there would be a waiting period it wouldn't be too long but there would be one from the 15th maybe to the 20th and they would have a funeral for a bunch of them because the pseudo Empire would have to battle them and others would be fighting each other to lead up to that and they're trying to kidnap him that's the pseudo Empire they're going to put a solid effort into it because it is what the guys were trying when they harmed Uncle Rose hair they're trying to capture my husband up there in Maine and it didn't work so they want to try again and use the pseudo Empire they say and the pseudo Empire wants to use them and that's how it's been going here they're ugly piece of s*** and that's all I can be I guess so that will happen before the 15th is Uncle Phil had the reprisal of the group and his apparent death and a temporary as it may be and also caused by the empire because pressure on him but they can't seem to figure out how to move him around without doing it and we can either because these people are so stubborn and backwards and evil that's actually the case so that's going on this week and I'm reiterating it but differently because I know all the stuff it's a headache but for real this is happening this is momentous this is gigantic there are not many things happening of this scale and it is 10th amount to a change in the entire paradigm and it is true it is happening that these warlock are going to self-destruct not on purpose my dude but mind you but they are blabbing because they think they have the AI and it's assisted suicide

Hera

Olympus

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scentedchildnacho · 3 months ago

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The pastor asked me if spoke to my family so I said no I haven't spoken to them in over a decade....a common book about astrology just read my relationship house is better under non attachment.....people do need around me to come and go as they feel like....its like a tour of duty...to be westernized all the time so quite frankly I don't see more in my relationships then people trying to express right dialogue but would prefer safer experiences

So I admit with people I actually have been kind of intimate with I'm a little shocking about just needing to be reminded they exist sometimes I just want to forgive and forget

I have sometimes suspected people of just being very vain and wanting to find me not ego worthy but I list psychological attributes and I don't think my life was that abnormal I think they were people and people can withstand some things somethings saint John shows mercy about because that is really difficult

She told me it would be cold so I said that's good though the homeless population will reduce when criminal privilege seeking goes south and austerity allows poverty some peace

San Diego was the most violent I have seen homelessness become.....if people ever give anything to those criminal groups police follow them everywhere and try to turn anywhere they go into fema virtual cages

Some of those criminals were really obscene hard core drug addicts and should never ever have asked poverty to host them or afflicted people as innocent as poverty with their war with police

That's the mistake there....they tried to force poverty to host them

That and Columbia Venezuela was at emigration issue so for ever attempting migration rights like refusing to support trane unions by sleeping at the beach and trying to protect it from lack of beautification....they threw at us light radiation out of death rows it was just unconscionably bully terrifying and animal poop disgusting

Its men it's women while we have been gone reducing reliance athletics has really positived itself and it was trying to hit us with bikes with jogs with cars I mean all chaos to hit us with

I tolerated it because I have a punisher that stalks me from my birth town and he for really any sexual liberation would batter me obscenely in jails and try to sex slave me in some of the most to blame of ways or only six away in relation to dugas

So to me I took enough radiation in my skull to make jail no longer necessary for the research.....my case starts becoming a death penalty

Los angeles is like a hub for serial killers so it was all sorts of noise torture with tool schiele you have to be pornographized to truly exhibit the housing and privileges off hacker work terrorism but chicks laying out to sun bathe is the worst noise environ I have ever seen if San Diego

Its really really pornographized there and I'm glad I got my obligation to indigenous studies over with....i think the united states military has used it a long time for veteran dream pensions and that has produced people like Richard ramirez so

The pale face athletics sometimes was feeling trapped in a black lives matter school film journalism of cops so up on steroids they threw a child around on everything till he was maybe murdered...battered his body against everything and that appears to be the battalions in San Diego also it's women jogging till they almost kicked a little pale girl like a football

And that's why Selby with Berkeley scares me the most it's people who realize they won't escape a pale segregation and want to control us

Weiner how humans use human beings

I watched Anthony King and the guardian because only uk news explains that those are riot battalions and they view any attempt at say moving a garbage square somewhere else as an act of warfare and they have shields and clubs and all sorts of things so I don't know what their going to do

From what I saw compared to southerners their not that big and bully.....and southern black capability is very negative and not apparently bothered by the western condition the way it really afflicts me

People who act like their bigger bullier and more positive then others meet things bigger bullier and more financially positive then them like big brother and his black allies

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unpredictablestuff · 7 months ago

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My favorite Slavic language is Croatian. It has very clean lines, aesthetically, unlike the baroque feel of many Slavic languages (which is obviously something a lot of other people prefer or they wouldn't be that way in the first place—this is just my personal preference). And yet at the same time it somehow manages to feel like the most Slavic of Slavic languages. While it is a standard southern Slavic language it also somehow manages to seem like both the western and eastern branches of the group.

But if we're going to talk about Balkan languages, the most unappreciated is Albanian. It is a joy just dipping your toe into the language. It's familiar yet distinct. Some of its Latin borrowings are so old that they have become very un-Latin. For example, the Albanian word for king comes from the Latin imperator (emperor) and it's mbret. You can see the Latin in it only if you know it's there. And the way Albanian writes the schwa sound is the best in the Latin alphabet: ë. It's clear, unmistakable and visually balanced. Hands down the winner. (Sorry Romanians, ă is great and good job, but Albanians beat you in this one).

And oh yeah, Greek is nice. The original alphabet* and all that. Familiar words we stole to decorate our language with an air of sophistication. Cool.

But going back to the baroque feel of many Slavic languages, if you are going to think about what makes Europe unique from Africa and Asia, then somehow Polish and Czech radiate that thing. So I guess to me they are the most European of European languages. They're the linguistic equivalent of castles and cathedrals. Maybe it's because there is no way to mistake even a fragment of either for a language from Africa, Asia or anywhere that's not Europe.

But to be honest, for an English speaker Dutch has to be one of the most enjoyable languages to read. Finally, a language that almost seems familiar. The orphaned, supposedly only child meeting their closest living relative for the first time.

*Technically speaking, the Phoenician/Canaanite alphabet was really an abjad like the Arabic and Hebrew scripts. Greek speakers were the first people to write down all their vowels. Because Indo-European languages need that. Indo-European languages that use the Arabic script like Farsi and Urdu are almost impossible to read if you don't know them well.

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leohtttbriar · 1 year ago

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the minor debate in the tags concerning the legitimacy of the urge to beat the shit out of some englishmen set aside lol, i so so agree with you op. it is by far the most unsophisticated part of star trek writing--the monolithic cultures. i know there are complaints about the science and technobabble nonsense, but as far as we know, such nonsense is just an imaginative end to the question of "what might make this weird thing happen?" (the answer almost always according to star trek writers: quantum particles, like fermions or whatnot. which seems fair to me bc actual knowledge of quantum mechanics remains Weird as far as i can tell). but human culture and language is so varied and recorded in easily accessible material, it feels like, as a audience member, there was no real excuse to not try to emulate that in the show's cultural speculation.

like, the original narrative utility of the monolithic culture in the original series became fairly outdated by the time tng came out? the sort of progressive aesthetic of having several different human cultures represented on a space-ship along with a couple aliens who look as much like humans as the rest was a progressivism distinct to the era. it needed expansion as the special effects and makeup capabilities expanded in the show production. (as well as based on the fact that half tng run technically being post-cold war.)

i genuinely don't mind that every new recurring alien written in a star trek series is just a new kind of forehead/ear prosthetic (actors being able to act is fairly essential for storytelling--prosthetics anywhere else would not be helpful). what i really want is not just a diversity of culture within an alien species, though that's Essential; i want the show to demonstrate that aliens are products of immense world-histories, both natural and cultural. even if there's no time to dig in to those histories on the show, just small hints about a diversity of dialect or food would work--dialogue like "this fruit only grows along the equator on Qo'noS and only the klingons who grew up there can withstand the radiation emitted by its fibers. also it's gross," or "did you understand what he was saying, worf?"--"no one can understand that accent. he's from the hamar mountains." etc. etc.

i mean, what if "warrior's spirit" meant different things based on, idk, something as esoteric as astrology? what if the northern hemisphere constellations on the planet culturally meant that klingons born there were explicitly warriors of like only hunting and it was a crime to hurt another klingon bc that would mean treating them like an animal and then this sort of culture faded as certain developments in agriculture in the southern hemisphere meant that calorie-dense food could be made available, fuel armies, fuel spacefaring, change the landscape, and undercut certain cultural practices, but the stereotype still remains that a northern hemisphere klingon is not the best conqueror and so they are left out of space-empire building. maybe instead of just replicating medieval lord-bondsman poetic culture (that was always more politically rich than even rich medieval poems about said culture could portray), they could've imagined all the material realities that contribute to culture-building and then expanded on what the original series had started. and then they could've hinted, maybe, that (as op pointed out) cultural biological urges are not as biologically inherent as the show might portray. you can still have your allegorical-narrative cake and eat it too by not implying that some conscious human-looking creatures are forever plagued by biological mandates, thus being closer-to-nature than the cerebral humans who never succumb to such body-demands. the implication of the writing always feels like: "this Othered being is, perhaps, dare i say it, ... primitive" and that is not a thing you want your speculative and imaginative science-fiction writing to imply.

this isn’t anything new or revolutionary to say but i hate how star trek portrays alien cultures as a monolith, maybe with two or three different subgroups at most. first of all it contributes to a lot of the weird bioessentialism written into the show second of all that’s just not how culture works. look at all those posts going around here joking about how what’s considered rude in one culture is polite in another, and that’s just in humans! “all klingons inherently have the Warrior’s Spirit” can you imagine if we said that about humans. sorry guys my ancestral scottish highlander genes are calling me to go beat the shit out of some englishmen i’ll brb

#SO sorry for writing to So Much op! i just started responding and couldn't stop. feel free to ignore me lol #your example of the highlanders cracked me up but also it's such a perfect example too bc if an englishmen were to say:#'the scots are inherently violent' we would all rightly be like: 'racist.'#vulcans probably get the best treatment but they're still one giant planet-wide Culture which is Annoying #star trek

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perfectprettypisces · 2 years ago

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The Princess and The Pilot • J.H.S • Prologue: Meet The Family

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Admiral’sDaughter!OC

Synopsis: To be fair, Jake didn’t know Maya was the daughter of an admiral when they started dating. Or that her father was none other than Wilson “Hitchcock” Hayes, the legendary pilot famous for having a chip on his shoulder larger than the state of Texas and four sons who all graduated from the TOPGUN program. With her entire family set to come down to San Diego for her graduation, Jake enlists the help of his friends to woo his girlfriend’s family.

Warnings: swearing, angst(?), shit ton of dialogue lol

a/n: oh my goodness, i was not expecting that much good feedback on the sneak peek for this new series but i’m glad y’all liked it :) like i said before i don’t like using Y/N, so i will be using a name, but i will attempt to keep it as non-descriptive as possible in order for you to imagine whoever you like as the face claim. also, idk how consistent i’m going to be with updating, but i’ll try my best :)

Series Masterlist • Top Gun Masterlist

Next Part

“I have to tell you something.”

Hangman’s halfway out the front door when Maya makes her sudden declaration. He was supposed to meet the rest of his squadron at The Hard Deck twenty minutes ago and he’s already running behind, but her words make him halt in place. It was essentially a cousin of “we need to talk” and nothing good ever came from those conversations in his experience. And judging from the way his girlfriend was twiddling her thumbs nervously, this was no exception.

“Is this a good something or a bad something?” he asks, coming over to stand in front of her. He places his hands on her hips and squeezes. He can feel the uneasiness radiating off her and while it does nothing to stop his mind from racing, he keeps his expression neutral.

“Depends on how you take it,” she says with a nervous chuckle, rubbing her hands up and down his arms. “I just wanted to tell you that my family is flying in next week for my graduation and I want you to meet them.”

That’s… not as bad as he was expecting.

“Okay?” he drawls with a confused smile. “Why do you seem so worried? I would love to meet your family, babe.”

“It’s not you I’m worried about.” Oh, if only he knew, she thinks. “They’re just… a lot sometimes and I don’t want you to get scared off or something.”

“Baby, nothing could scare me away from you,” he says, leaning down to place a kiss on her lips. “And trust me, by the time your graduation comes, you’re gonna see that you had nothing to worry about.”

Hangman was a charmer by nature. His military confidence in combination with his southern hospitality made him every parent’s dream. And being an older brother to three sisters himself, he knew exactly the type of guy he would want his sisters to bring home. He was sure he could get her father and brothers to love him in no time.

“Is there anything I should know before they come?” he asks, dipping his head down to place kisses along the column of her neck.

“Well…” If this were any other situation, his kisses may have distracted her from the situation at hand, but not this time. Here goes nothing, she thinks. “I told you that my dad was a pilot for the Navy.”

Hangman hums in agreement, continuing his line of kisses to her jawline. “You did.”

“My brother’s in the Navy, too.”

“Oh?” He was mentally taking notes on potential things that could earn him brownie points. Finding a common ground would be easier than he thought. “What does he do?”

“He’s a pilot.”

Hangman stiffens. He lifts his head to see her biting her lip nervously. “A pilot? Like your dad?”

“Mhm,” she nods, refusing to meet his eye.

Now, that piqued his interest. He lifts an eyebrow skeptically. “Which brother is this?”

“All of them.”

“All of them?” he repeats in disbelief. “They’re all in the Navy or they’re all pilots?”

“Both.”

“Both?” he parrots, his voice significantly higher than before. He feels the self-assured mask he’d put on slip off a little more with each detail he learned.

“Wait, you said your dad was a pilot for the Navy? What does he do now?”

Please don’t say it, he begs internally.

“He’s an admiral.”

---------------

“You just left?”

Hangman thinks for a moment. “Yeah.”

In hindsight it wasn’t his best move, but his brain felt like it was on overdrive. He didn’t know if he was running on adrenaline or fear.

Hangman, the fearless fighter pilot, had run away with his tail between his legs.

His friends were left bewildered when Hangman had shown up over a half an hour late looking like he’d seen a ghost and started word vomiting all the new information he’d learned about his girlfriend’s family. All the way up to the point where he’d left her standing alone in the kitchen of her apartment.

Again, not his best move.

“So, you really had no idea?”

“No.”

“And you just found out today?”

“Yes.”

“You had to have known–”

“For the last time, Phoenix; no, I didn’t know and no offense, but this is really not helping my case here,” Hangman groans. He straightens his posture from where he was bent over the pool table and runs a stressed hand over his face. “I mean, what the hell am I supposed to do?”

The group of pilots share a look before collectively turning their gazes to Bob, who’d been distracted by the cup of peanuts in his hand. He looks up to find them all staring at him expectantly, hoping he could provide a voice of reason.

“Don’t look at me, I’m not the one dating the admiral’s daughter.”

Hangman’s shoulders visibly deflate as he sets aside his pool cue. He sits on the bar stool across from Coyote, downing his drink in one go in an attempt to ground himself.

“I just don’t get it,” Phoenix says. “You knew her last name, she told you her dad was in the Navy, and yet you never made the connection?”

In hindsight, there were so many clues that could’ve told Hangman that her dad was not just an admiral, but the admiral. She’d briefly mentioned him being a Naval aviator when they’d first met, but the weight of his accomplishments didn’t strike her as something to mention off-hand. She rarely talked about him after that first time and Hangman never wanted to push, assuming that they probably didn’t have the best relationship.

Oh, how wrong he was.

“In my defense, it’s a common last name,” Hangman counters weakly.

“In the entire country? Maybe,” Rooster says, grabbing the abandoned pool cue and lining up his own shot. “In the Navy? You should’ve known, dude.”

“Thanks,” Hangman states flatly as he glares at his friend. He fiddles with the glass in his hands, wishing that if he stared at it long enough it would magically refill itself. He definitely needed another drink.

Payback, ever the mediator, chooses this moment to step in. “Look, man, I don’t know what you want us to tell you. If this were any other admiral, I wouldn’t see a problem, but this is Hitchcock. We’ve all heard the stories, his daughter’s like his pride and joy.”

Hangman knew his friend was right. Admiral Wilson “Hitchcock” Hayes was, in layman’s terms, a hardass. He notoriously ruled with an iron fist and anyone that stepped out of line under his watchful eye would have hell to pay. His ever-present scowl and booming voice were enough to make a grown man cry, as evident to the poor lieutenant who had gotten in his way on a particularly bad day. The one exception to his icy exterior was his one and only daughter, affectionately referred to as Princess by her father’s colleagues.

Princess, who also happened to be Hangman’s girlfriend of nine months. Go figure.

“Isn’t he stationed in Virginia? The hell is he coming to San Diego for?” Fanboy asks.

“Her graduation,” Hangman explains, but even the slight twinge of pride he got from the thought of his girlfriend completing medical school wasn’t enough to dull his anxiousness. “And it’s not just him, her entire family is going to be here.”

“You mean–”

“Yup.”

Payback holds out his full beer bottle towards Hangman. “I think you might need this more than I do.”

He mumbles out a thanks and takes a swig.

“If I were you, I’d worry about her brothers first,” Rooster says. “Because right now, you’re severely outnumbered.”

Admiral Hayes was well-known in his own right, but the fact that all four of his sons were amongst the top 1% of aviators practically immortalized him in the eyes of the Navy. And while each Hayes’ brother was wildly different from the next, wanting to follow in their father’s footsteps was their unwavering common ground. This included a fierce and shared protectiveness over the youngest member of their family.

It was common sense to anyone stationed with a Hayes to never mention Princess in the presence of her brothers, let alone her father. Dating her was unquestionably off the table. Another young officer had learned that the hard way after attempting to flirt with her in front of her oldest brother, Wes, when she had come up to Virginia to visit. It was no surprise when that same lieutenant had shown up to base the next day with a black eye.

And Wes was known as the level-headed one.

Fanboy lets out a low whistle. “Dude, you’re fucked.”

Hangman nods gratefully at Phoenix as she drives her elbow into Fanboy’s ribcage.

“I can’t speak for the others, but Pops isn’t a bad guy,” Payback says, referring to Admiral Hayes’ oldest son. “We were in the same TOPGUN class. He’s a hell of a pilot.”

“Same goes for Junior,” Coyote pipes from his seat, talking the second oldest. “I was stationed with him before I came here.”

Phoenix turns to Bob and points. “Bob, weren’t you stationed with one of the Hayes’ in Lemoore? What was his callsign?”

“Oh, Mouse?” Bob says. “Yeah, he’s the youngest, I think. He’s fine. He’s just… quiet, I guess.”

“Well, that’s three out of four,” Fanboy counts, looking between everyone else. “Who’s the fourth?”

Hangman’s head snaps up and his eyes meet Rooster and Phoenix’s concerned gazes from across the pool table. He groans in realization, pressing a hand to his forehead to ease the tension that had built up. “Sparky.”

“Sparky?” Payback echoes.

“Griffin Hayes,” Phoenix explains. “He and Hangman had it out for each other in the Academy.”

“C’mon, it’s been years,” Rooster says, painfully optimistic. “Do you really think he’s still holding a grudge against him?”

Hangman stares at him blankly. “Did you?”

Rooster’s silence was all the confirmation he needed.

“Well, you and Rooster are on good terms now,” Bob says, ignoring their indifferent expressions. Good terms, but not great, one might say. “Who says you can’t do the same with this Sparky guy?”

Rooster and Phoenix share a look while Hangman sighs. “It’s not that easy.”

“Had it out for each other” was a gross understatement as to what their relationship actually was. Griffin “Sparky” Hayes was the thorn in Hangman’s side throughout his years at the Academy all the way to his stint at TOPGUN, making whatever petty beef he had with Rooster seem like child’s play in comparison. While Hangman and Rooster’s rivalry remained strictly professional, the riff between Hangman and Sparky bled into aspects of their everyday life. From the type of car they drove all the way to the girls they dated.

Hangman swore he never wanted to see the son of a bitch again after he’d successfully beaten Sparky out for the number one spot in their TOPGUN class. The feeling, as expected, was mutual.

Now, he needed to play nice or he could kiss his sweet girlfriend goodbye.

“Jake?”

Hangman perks up at the sound of Maya’s voice. She’s wearing the same apprehensive expression she had on when he’d first left her apartment as she shrunk under the gazes of the six other pilots with him.

In the nine months they’d been dating, Maya had only spent time with his squadron on a handful of occasions. Between her rounds at the hospital and finishing medical school, it was rare for her to have a weekend off. But when she did, she gladly accompanied Hangman to The Hard Deck. While the conversations never went deeper than surface level, they all got along well.

So, it was slightly awkward to have them all stare at her like she’d just entered riding on a unicorn.

“Hey guys,” she waves shyly. They return her gesture timidly, like they were afraid Hitchcock was going to pop up out of nowhere and berate them for not greeting his daughter properly.

Hangman removes himself from his bar stool and goes to stand in front of her, blocking them from her view. “Babe, what’re you doing here?”

“Can we talk?” she asks, sparing a glance at his friends. “Privately?”

A sick sense of déjà vu washes over him, instantly flashing back to when she’d said a variation of those words not even an hour ago and how that conversation had ended. It doesn’t stop him from placing a hand on the small of her back and leading her away from the multiple pairs of prying eyes. He walks them out to the back patio of The Hard Deck, embracing the slight chill of the early evening. When he notices her slight shiver, he silently curses himself for not having a jacket to give her.

Boyfriend of the year award, he thinks. 0 for 2, Bagman.

“I am so sorry for walking out earlier, I don’t know what I was thinking,” he starts off, grabbing her hands in his larger ones to warm them up.

“I don’t blame you, to be honest,” she says. “I did kind of drop a bomb on you.”

A massive, extremely explosive atomic bomb. But a bomb, nonetheless.

“It was just… unexpected, I guess,” he says. Understatement of the century. “I also wish I’d known a little sooner.”

“I know,” she groans, retracting her hands from his and burying her face in them. “I just didn’t want things to change between us.”

He pries her hands away from her face so he could look her in the eye. “You really think I would treat you any differently?”

“Aren’t you already? I mean, you saw how your friends looked at me in there like I was some mythical creature,” she says, gesturing towards the window.

Hangman spares a glance back to the group of pilots, who’d conveniently made their way over to the piano sometime in the past five minutes. They were not at all subtle in the way they were trying to eavesdrop on their conversation. He catches Rooster’s eye, who turns away immediately as he scratches the back of his neck. The rest follow suit as they feign different levels of nonchalance.

“Hell, you walked out right after I told you,” she points out.

Hangman grimaces. She got him there. “Again, not my best move.”

“Look, I love my dad and my brothers, but I also love you,” she says, laying an affectionate hand on his cheek. “And I know I’ve put you in an impossible position. It’s not what you signed up for.”

Maya, usually the epitome of confidence, had never looked smaller as she delivered her words so mechanically. Almost like she was repeating them from memory, like someone had said them to her before. Hangman’s heart breaks at the idea of his girlfriend being told those words as someone decided that she wasn’t worth the risk.

“What are you saying?” Hangman asks, almost certain he knew where the conversation was going.

“I’m offering you an out,” Maya sighs. “You don’t have to do this.”

In any other scenario, he would’ve viewed her proposition as a cop-out. He would’ve been upset that she was giving up before letting him have a chance to prove himself. He would’ve been upset that she was running away from him. But he could see the vulnerability hiding beneath the surface. She was offering him the out because that’s the way everyone else had taken.

Hangman’s decision is a no brainer. He wanted to show her that she was worth fighting for.

“I love you and I made you a promise, didn’t I?” he says, bringing his hands up to cradle her face. “Like I said, there is absolutely nothing that can scare me away from you.”

Hopefully, those wouldn’t be his famous last words.

But he knows he made the right decision when her face lights up with a mixture of happiness and relief. She leans up and kisses him, wrapping her arms around his waist. His arms move around her shoulders when she pulls away, placing a firm kiss on her forehead.

“I love you.” Hangman repeats as he places another kiss on her head. “And I can’t wait to meet ‘em.”

“I love you, too,” she says, beaming at him. “They’re going to love you in no time.”

If only things were that easy.

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@kajjaka @ollyoxenfrees @the-romanian-is-bae @bookaholics-stuff @desert-fern @fayethefairy @dreamtrydoforkinggood @smoothdogsgirl

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