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psychedelic-ink · 1 year

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𝐑𝐞𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐃𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐧

series summary: Two years had passed since your break up with Jack, a fellow Statesmen agent. But everything re-ignites again when Champ asks you to go San Francisco to investigate the disappearance of multiple women across the country and, sadly enough, agent Malibu. While doing anything with Jack is chaos enough, you also run in to another ex, a man that actually showed you kindness and someone you thought you could spend the rest of your days with that is until he started asking too many questions about your job, Frankie Morales.

pairing(s): jack daniels x fem!reader, past frankie morales x fem!reader, eventual (+endgame pairing) jack daniels x fem!reader x frankie morales

chapter summary: The story of how you and Frankie met. In present day Jack brings his car to the garage Frankie works at.

word count: 7.1k

chapter warnings: use of weed, alcohol consumption, getting high with frankie morales, high sex, piv sex, reader talking about her break up with jack, self-destructive tendencies (reader), mild exhibitionism, dirty talking, creampie, mention of reader being on the pill, statesmen agent!reader, brief mention of frankie's cocain addiction, reader heavily relying on weed and alcohol for comfort frankie trying to help

a/n: and here we are once again! thank you to all those who were patient with me and supported this series despite it being months, I love you all and enjoy! xx

Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Chapter 2 | Chapter 4

It was a hot day when he met you.

After his license was taken away, and after the… unfortunate events Santi had dragged him into, Frankie had decided to dedicate himself to volunteer work—volunteer work that specifically included animals. He knew someone, someone way back, named Maria and Maria worked at the local animal shelter. Frankie gave her a call and the next day he was learning the ropes of what they did.

Initially, Frankie thought he would be visiting once a week—but there was a lot that needed to be done and he wasn’t above getting his hands dirty for the sake of the poor animals who were abandoned. Every morning he had a habit of greeting all the dogs. It was a bittersweet experience. He loved seeing how excited they got, but he also became heartbroken when he saw the dogs that had lost all hope. They would just sit in their cages, head bowed down, only their eyes moving when Frankie came in to clean their living spaces. He felt a special bond between him and them.

He fixed all the cages the first week, he asked for pillows, for new water bowls. Frankie became a loud protestor of mistreated animals. In the end it made him feel selfish. He wasn’t doing much, but even that little bit of effort made his heart feel lighter after all the shit he’d done. It made him feel good.

Frankie practically begged Will and Benny to adopt a dog, a black old terrier that deserved a happy home. Frankie would be the first to admit that the small dog wasn’t really Will and Benny’s style, but he asked them anyway. Much to his gratitude, the brothers said yes.

He thought of Pope, but he was still traveling way too frequently, meaning that he wasn’t the best person to adopt an animal.

That’s how his days went. Most of his time was spent at the shelter, the rest of his time was dedicated to getting his license back. And of course, he had to work, which he did at the neighborhood car repair shop. The pay wasn’t much but it was decent. Enough for him to buy food.

He was filling the water bowls when you came in. His shirt stuck to his skin, his back damp and dark in color with sweat. You looked around nervously.

“Hello there, you looking to adopt?”

You looked away, biting your bottom lip. Frankie noticed your swollen eyes, your running nose. Raising an eyebrow, he cocked his head to the side—you were crying.

“Hi,” you chirped, albeit anxiously. “Sorry, I don’t really know what I’m doing here. My friend told me to get out and I didn’t really wanna see anyone so I ended up coming here.”

“That’s okay,” he answered with a sudden sense to comfort you. His fingers twitched, the need to place a hand over your shoulder overwhelming. He pushed those thoughts aside. “We can look around. I have time, and the dogs always get excited to see new people,”

“That makes me sad since I can’t take any of them home,” you mutter, finally lifting your gaze and looking at him for the first time. “Can I help with anything? You have volunteers right?”

“We sure do,” he nodded, smiling. “And we never say no to some extra spare hands. I don’t really have anything specific in mind so let me show you around first. Does that sound good?”

“Sure. Sounds great.”

Frankie led the way, walking slowly to give you a chance to take in everything around you. You seemed to be trying your best to stay calm by wrapping your arms around your frame. Again, his need to offer comfort overwhelmed him. He’s not one to place his nose into things that didn’t concern him, but in a way, he could relate to your need to both go out and heal—but also wanting to stay away from people. He understood that.

"Here are the dog kennels," Frankie said, pointing to a row of cages that housed dogs of all sizes and breeds. "We try to make them as comfortable as possible, but they're still waiting for their forever homes."

“Do people often adopt?”

“It’s more common now, thankfully,” he grumbles, anger twisting in his stomach. “But people still want “pure breeds” which is a load of shit if you ask me. There are also the people who adopt but can’t handle the responsibility and bring them back which is—” bitter laughter dropped from his lips. “I wouldn’t really describe myself as a temperamental person but some people I swear to god,”

“Must be frustrating.”

“It is.”

His answer had come from a place of slight shock. Frankie was used to people being more…emphatic. He was used to the “awwws” and the sad “ohhhs” coming from the people who visited. But instead of that, or remarking on how cruel humanity was (which was another answer he frequently got), you just stated a fact. You just pointed out the obvious. Which was slightly unnerving since that obvious thing was what he was feeling.

The dogs barked and jumped up at the sound of voices, wagging their tails. Frankie stopped to pat a few of them on the head, and he watched you smile as you got closer to the cages, patting a mix between a greyhound and a husky.

“So loving,” you murmured, fascinated. “One of his eyes is blue.”

“He’s a husky mix, his name is Thor—well, I call him Thor.”

“Marvel fan?”

“Nah, it just felt fitting.”

Moving on, Frankie continued to talk about the shelter and its operations. He told you about how they rely on donations and volunteers to keep running, and how they work to rehabilitate animals who have been abused or neglected. He hoped to keep his voice gentle and soothing, and he was pleased that you slowly started to open up.

"Are you here full time?” you asked suddenly, taking him by surprise.

“I wish but no.”

“Work?”

He nodded, “Work.”

It was odd talking to you. It almost felt like you couldn’t speak in full sentences. It was clear to him that you were in some kind of emotional turmoil—something he noticed not because of his killer observation skills but due to the fact the whites of your eyes were red. He wondered what kind of person you were without whatever it was that was weighing you down.

He wondered what your smile might look like.

Frankie didn't ask what you did in your spare time, which would be a natural way to continue the conversation, instead, he showed you the rest of the shelter. He showed you the cats lounging in their cages, the birds chirping in their aviary, and even some rabbits hopping around in a pen. You lean forward, observing the tiny bodies of cuteness through the dirty glass. Frankie almost sees the twitch of your lip, but before it transforms into an expression you straighten up and roll your shoulders.

“What can I help with?”

Frankie asked you out on a date two weeks later. He liked to think it was due to the peer pressure coming from Pope and Benny rather than his undeniable infatuation with you.

You were hardworking, emotional, and quick to point out stupidity. After learning more about the shelter and its issues, which was impressively quick, you started to constantly butt heads with Frankie. He knew your intentions were good, which is why he didn’t mind your passion coming out as impatience. You wanted to help. You wanted to see results. He understood quickly that according to you, the other volunteers were weak-handed, and didn’t want to get their hands dirty—but Frankie found that you were a little too eager to get your hands dirty.

But he never said anything. He kept his observations to himself and asked you out for dinner at his place, he didn’t really have the budget to take you out, and his cooking was way better compared to Burger King or any other fast food chain.

You showed up half an hour late with an apologetic smile and a bottle of red wine.

“Sorry,” you said before hello. “Traffic was insane,”

“Don’t worry about it,” he answers with a soft smile. “Come on in.”

He took the bottle from you and waited until you’d completely passed the threshold, he noticed that you had a slight limp to your step. He closed the door and followed you inside.

“Are you okay? You’re limping,”

You were visibly surprised by the question, shoulders raising. Frankie understood then that you were attempting to hide it, and he flustered at the thought, he hadn’t meant to call you out or anything.

“An asshole kid kicked me,” you sighed, clearly exasperated. “I was just waiting for the light to turn green and this little demon spawn kicked me while holding his mother’s hand. It hurt as hell, but surprise surprise mama satan said nothing!”

Frankie placed the wine on the table and wiped his palms on his jeans, he was sweating. “Parents tend to be worse than the children they’re rising,” he cleared his throat. “Is it sprained? I can wrap it up for you if you want.”

He held his breath when you walked up to him, placing a flat hand over his chest.

“Eager to lick my wounds already,” you hummed, a faint glimmer in your eyes. “How chivalrous.”

“Force of habit,” he grinned, which was followed up by a loud swallow. “I have a lot of friends that tend to get into trouble.”

“Are these the soldier buddies I heard so much about?” you pull back your hand.

He watched as you head for the couch, shrugging your jacket off before taking a seat. With practiced ease, he grabbed two crystal wine glasses and a sleek wine opener from the kitchen. He uncorked a bottle of red wine, letting the rich aroma fill the room, and poured it carefully into the glasses.

Frankie had made a somewhat decent charcuterie board. He raided his local grocery store the day before and picked up some basic items: a block of cheddar cheese, a package of sliced salami, a jar of olives, and a sleeve of crackers. He also added some grapes and cherry tomatoes for color.

He arranged everything on a wooden cutting board and placed it on the coffee table prior to your arrival. He was pleased to see that you’d already made yourself comfortable by crossing your legs, nibbling on a cracker topped with cheese and salami.

“Thank you,” you said with a mouthful when Frankie placed the glass in front of you. Swallowing, you took the glass by the stem and brought it to your lips, swallowing the ruby liquid. “This is great. I really needed this,”

“You do know that this isn’t the main course right?” he chuckled, throwing his arm over the back of the couch. “My budget isn’t that tight. We have pasta.”

“Ohh pasta,” you sighed, licking your lips. Frankie’s eyes followed the bath of your tongue. “And that’s not what I meant. I’m just…I was trying to express gratitude I guess. It’s been a while since I felt good and I’m pretty sure it’s all thanks to you.”

“Well, I’m sure that’s not true,” he couldn’t help but draw slow patterns across the back of your bare neck. He felt like a man possessed with the need to touch you, no matter how minimal. “You’re quite competent. I don’t think you need to give credit to me for your own healing.”

“I can’t exactly discredit you either,” you smiled, shaking your head. “I’m sorry for being—” you swallowed, words seemingly failing you. “—for being not myself.”

“Would it be okay if I ask what happened?” his, voice a beat above a whisper. “It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me, you don’t seem like the type to talk about your feelings a lot.”

“You’re too observant for comfort,” the fact that you smiled when saying it relieved him. “But I don’t mind talking about it. I feel like you deserve some kind of explanation—”

“You don’t owe me anything.”

“Even so…I would…like to talk about it,” you took another sip of your wine before turning to him completely, fingers nervously moving up and down the glass stem. “This is going to be cliche.”

“I have no issues with cliches,” he smiled, the pads of his fingers pressing firmer into your skin. “Cliches are cliche for a reason.”

“That’s a nice thought.”

A moment of silence. You took another sip, lips shimmering with the residue left from the wine.

“I was somewhat recently broken up with. I want to say it was a nasty breakup but it actually wasn’t—which shouldn’t bother me but it does.”

Frankie remained quiet, waiting for you to continue. He didn’t dare to move or even breathe, in the passing silent seconds. Your chest raised as you took a deep breath, remembering made you wince.

“We’re coworkers so I see him quite often. He’s also not the easiest person to get along with—and that’s not just me saying that. He kept a lot of things to himself, and it made me think ‘why be in a relationship if we’re not going to comfort and be honest with each other’ he took it well, actually. A week later I heard him being with someone else. I—I took it pretty bad.”

“That’s okay,” Frankie said without waiting a beat. “He sounds like an asshole. And no one should expect you to take it with a smile.”

“I guess not.” you sighed and leaned over to place the glass on the table. “I’m not being a very good date am I?”

It wasn’t difficult to see that you were deflecting. However, being a man of his word, Frankie didn’t press for more details. He would learn more about the man that broke your heart with time, and even if he didn’t, that was alright, as long as he was able to make you smile, it didn’t matter to him what happened in your past.

Considering his own mistakes and misfortunes, he hoped that you would spare him the same consideration.

“You’re being a lovely date,” he answered, leaning closer. He noticed the way your eyes dropped to his lips, a soft exhale escaping them.

“That’s an awfully generous statement.”

It was the way your lashes fluttered when he fully cradled your nape, squeezing softly, he allowed his lips to brush yours. Your eyes closed in a sort of surrender. Maybe he should’ve thought about it more before allowing himself to be a distraction. That was he was; a distraction—a balm to soothe your heart. He didn’t mind being the cure. Maybe that was fucked up of him.

In that moment he liked to think that some part of him was using you too, for his own comfort. You treated him like he was a pure man, excluded from all sin. It’s far from the truth but it was nice for someone to look at him with admiration instead of ‘you fucked up’.

He kissed you. Wine stained lips molding together, tongues intertwining, leaving no room to breathe. He inhaled your scent, smoke, and something sweet he couldn’t quite place his finger on. His tongue swiped over your bottom lip, teeth gently digging into the soft flesh. Your hands skimmed his waist, goosebumps pebbling under the fabric of his shirt as he felt your fingers moving up and down.

Frankie was the one to part away, but again, he kept you close, his forehead against yours. Your eyes remained closed, lips looking tender and swollen under the dim lights.

“Frankie, can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“I don't mean to be presumptuous or anything, but I didn't just bring wine with me. I actually brought some weed, if that's something you'd be interested in smoking," you opened your eyes, staring directly into Frankie’s. “I know it's not for everyone, but it might be a nice way to unwind a bit."

In hindsight, Frankie probably should say no. He didn’t have any issues with you smoking it, but he just wasn’t sure if he should. It had been a while. He remembered using it a lot when he wanted to forget, or before inhaling a shit ton of coke, which he hasn’t done—at least not to that amount—since his license got taken away.

His cock twitched when you dragged your lips down the column of his neck, pressing a kiss into his shoulder. He exhaled slowly, something that could be easily confused with a sigh. Your grip on his waist tightened. He didn’t want you to feel like he didn’t understand, or that he was against it. He wasn’t.

While you laid another kiss above his collarbone, he placed one on your temple.

“Sounds great.”

They were on the floor. Smoke lingered deep in their lungs, a cloud of cannabis entrailing and curling around them both. Frankie had no idea how they ended up there; backs pressed against the couch cushions, coffee table pushed ahead, empty charcuterie board on your side. Their limbs were tangled with each other, your legs propped over Frankie’s thighs.

His fingers curled around the meat of your thigh, stroking and squeezing the muscle affectionately.

“What does it mean to be a bad person?” you asked suddenly.

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. He slid his hand forward, following the peak of your knee and moving to your calf, there he drummed his thumb against the bone. “What do you think it means?”

“I don’t know that’s why I’m asking,” you chuckled, you shimmied closer until the curve of your bottom touched the outside of his thigh. “Everything is so gray. I want to be a good person, always have. But then why am I suffering? Why am I having these thoughts that convince me I’m a waste? I thought being good meant sacrificing parts of yourself, to do good no matter what—being good means not thinking about yourself, that is what I was told. And I think I do that. With my job—”

Your sentence came to an abrupt halt, you shook your head and Frankie could feel the tremors of the movement mirroring in his lap. He dragged his nails up and down your leg, imagining that a shudder would settle over your spine from it.

“If being good means making sacrifices for it, why is it that the people who don’t are happier than me?”

“You don’t know if they’re happy or not.”

“That might be true but I do know that they’re not struggling like I am. They’re not lonely. They’re not afraid of it. Me on the other hand, I cry myself to sleep almost every night,” you shook your head, legs slowly starting to recoil. “Sorry, I—I can’t think, that was such a childish thing to complain about. You’re right. I don’t know what people think, maybe they’re just as tortured as I am.”

Frankie kept your legs over his lap, forcefully so. “I don’t think it’s childish,” he exhaled one breath and inhaled two. His fingers slid down to your ankle, and there he felt your beating pulse. Your breath hitched. “I just think you’re hurt. We’re all afraid of something. You’re not alone in that.”

“What are you afraid of?”

“Losing myself.”

The air around them stilled. Frankie’s mind threatened to spiral, he took heavy breaths, trying to focus on something, anything. He felt his heart beating in his throat and he swallowed—again and again. Your veins throbbed under the pads of his fingers, he focused on that, he thought that he could hear the blood rushing in your veins.

“I think you’re too stubborn to lose yourself,” you whispered, hooking a finger under his chin and lifting his gaze back to you. “But I’ll tell you something, if you do, I’ll pull you out of it.”

He smiled, his heartbeat finally slowing, “And I’ll always be there for you. You won’t have to worry about being alone. No matter what, I’ll be there. Deal?”

“Deal.”

He blinked and when he opened his eyes again you were straddling his lap. Frankie’s hands moved on instinct, large palms securing you by resting on your back. His lips found yours, he licked himself into your mouth, teeth digging into your bottom lip maybe a bit too hard. You moaned into his mouth and he swallowed every noise, he sucked the air from your lungs, urging the sway of your hips. Before he knew it, your shirt was off, and so was his. Naked bodies came together, the softness of your breasts against his chest. You kissed him like it was your last day on earth—like you needed it to survive.

He cradled your breasts with both hands, pushing them towards his mouth. He flattened his tongue over the pebbled nipples, sucking them between his lips as much as he could. His cock strained against the zipper of his jeans, painfully so. But he didn’t care about that. How could he when you were grinding down on him, head thrown back and mewling as his teeth nipped the sensitive flesh?

More, you kept on begging, more.

Frankie was eager to give you what you wanted. A fog settled over his mind, his common sense heavily guided by his need to fuck. Within the haze, the ungrounded whispered promises, they both managed to strip themselves. He couldn’t help himself. He squeezed, pinched, and bit. You returned it in kind. Nails raked over his back, teeth marks formed dents in his skin.

His cock ached to be buried in you. It dripped heavily, precum smeared the inside of your thighs and stomach. Your chest heaving, placing both hands on his shoulders you lifted yourself up. His head fell back, his hands kneading your ass indulgingly as you sank into him.

Frankie’s eyes rolled back. You were so fucking wet—wet and incredibly warm. He cursed into your skin, buried his face between your breasts, and kissed wherever his lips touched. You shuddered around him, walls clenched tightly around his cock. A stuttered breath left you both, his nails bit into your skin, the skin above his stomach taut as your arm slowly coiled around his neck.

“Need you to move, querida,” he groaned, teeth grazing the swell of your breast.

You relied on him to be able to move, it felt more poetic than it actually was. His muscles strained as you moved, your planted feet doing little work to lift your weight. Instead, you used him like an overhead bar, trusting him enough that he wouldn’t let you fall. It was beautiful, in a way. You trusted him even when he didn’t trust himself.

“You feel so good,” he whispered, nipping your chin. “This pretty pussy feels like it was made for me to fuck.”

He felt you shudder through his cock, his balls tight when your movements began to falter, legs shaking. “It was,” you gasped, clamping around him. “Frankie—I’m close. P-Please just—” your words cut off with a moan, head falling over his. He heard you sniffling.

Frankie’s hands drew soothing patters over your back, feeling every dip and curve of your body.

“Do you want me to make you come?” he asked.

“Please.”

With his feet firmly planted on the floor, he pushed up into you, burying himself as deep as he could. Your arms curled around his head like spiderwebs, the scent of sex and cannabis clung to your skin, breasts heavy as they swayed with his thrusts.

He couldn’t help himself. You felt tight, warm—just aching for him to fill up. His entire body clenched as he shoved you down, his cock fully engulfed by your heat. He spilled into you, it’s so overwhelming that it’s borderline painful. He could fuck you until the end of time.

A sudden worry consumed him. Frankie was quick to smooth your back with open palms, looking up at you with soft and pleading eyes.

“S-Shit, I’m sorry—”

But on the contrary, you seemed glad. You seemed satisfied and happy.

“Don’t worry,” you let out a shaky breath. “I’m on the pill.”

He found you half unconscious sprawled upon the couch. It wasn’t the first time Frankie found you like this, like a picture of his past, showcasing his worst moments and forcing him to re-live them. You groaned as he lifted you up, pushing you into a sitting position. He parted your fingers and shoved a glass of cool water into your hand. You smileed in a daze.

“Thanks,” you muttered, your voice scratchy and dry. “How was your day?”

Frankie didn’t answer. He scoffed and continued to clean up, when that was done he guided you to the bathroom. He placed you into the warm water, scrubbing the sweat off your skin. You started crying then. Shaking and muttering apologies, that he didn’t deserve this. He didn’t really think that way. Was it sad to see you like this, yes, no doubt about it. But he didn’t blame you. He didn’t think you were being evil or malevolent. You needed help.

He needed help once too. And you weren’t anything that he couldn’t handle. Just a shit ton of weed and alcohol. He just needed to be here and it would be okay. He wanted to keep his promise.

Frankie told you as such. Not that you believed him. But he said it anyway. Reminding you that he was here, that it was okay. He would talk about himself, what he’d gone through without going into much detail. He didn’t think you were ready to hear that part of him yet.

He smoothly guided the loofa over your skin, suds moving up and down. He noticed the bruises on your arms, your ribs.

“What are these?” he asked.

You looked down, shaking your head. “From work,” you quickly said. “I fell. Nothing important.”

Frankie nodded and didn’t press any further.

But the bruises didn’t stop.

Every night when you came back from work, you had bruises, cuts, it almost looked like you were fighting but with who he had no idea. It became a problem. Him asking. It agitated you, made you lash out. And you lashing out made him lash out. He never wanted to break up, the opposite, he wanted to be with you.

The words just slipped.

“You need to tell me what’s going on so I can help. Do you want me to leave, is that it?”

“Maybe you should.” Frankie made a face and you sighed. “Maybe it’s better for the both of us if we spend some time apart. Honestly, it’s probably better for you. I’m not…I’m not well, Frankie. You deserve someone better.”

“What does that even mean?” Should he be angry? Should he put weight on these words that you were saying?

“It means that my…my feelings aren’t enough to make this work.”

“I think they’re plenty.”

“They’re not, Frankie. You know that. This isn’t fair to you. You deserve someone who’s whole, someone who isn’t broken.”

“Stop calling yourself that,” he snapped. “you’re not broken. I never thought that you were.”

You walked up to him, a single tear trickling down your cheek as you placed a hand to his rough, stubbled cheek. "Goodbye, Frankie. Thank you," you whispered, before leaning in and kissing him softly on the lips.

Frankie's eyes widened in surprise, his body tensing for a moment before he relaxed into the kiss. It was brief, but it spoke volumes - of regret, of love, of loss.

When he left Frankie heard the sound of glass shattering against a hard surface.

Frankie regretted everything. He regretted Benny talking him into flying to San Francisco and he regretted saying yes to coming to this shitshow of a club just because Benny went on and on about how it was the hottest new thing.

And typical of Benny, he was nowhere to be found.

The air around him was suffocating. It smelled of alcohol and sweet perfume that was strong enough that he felt his nose might fall off at any given moment. People around him danced and laughed. He never felt more out of place in his life. He lifted his ballcap and ran his fingers through his hair. He should definitely go back to his hotel room. He’s sure Benny would understand. Besides what was the alternative? Find a random person to fuck? He wasn’t really in the mood to make pleasantries and act like he was fine when in reality he wasn't.

Needless to say, the breakup had affected him more than he cared to admit.

A group of girls shoved him around and his eyes went over the many drunk people in the club. He was desperately hoping Benny would miraculously appear in the midst of the people. Wouldn’t that be amazing?

His eyes caught glimpse of a couple sitting in one of the booths. It was hard to see due to the red light but still, he could never truly forget what you looked like, no matter how dimly lit it was. The man you were sitting with somewhat resembled him, he was clean-shaven, his mustache trimmed and neat. His eyes traced the curve of his nose, the dip of his eyebrows, the flat line of his lips. Frankie found the cowboy hat to be comical but he couldn’t really judge anyone when he wore a baseball cap 24/7.

The cowboy leaned into your ear and murmured something but you were heavily distracted, your gaze glued to Frankie. It truly must’ve been a shock seeing him here. Not wanting to be rude, Frankie smiled, it was forced, it was broad but it was the best he could do as he headed in your direction. It just happened. He hadn’t really thought about it.

“Hey.” he said.

You looked up, a forced smile slowly spreading across your face. Frankie was somewhat pleased he wasn’t the only one feeling awkward. But despite it all, it was good to see you.

“Hey,” you answered, a slight tremble in your voice. “How are you, Frankie?”

“I’m good, you?”

“Doing better,” this time, he noticed, your smile was a sincere one. “What are you doing here? This place doesn’t exactly scream ‘this is a hangout place for Frankie Morales’.”

He chuckled and scratched the back of his head. For a second, he’d forgotten there was someone else with you. His heart sank when he heard the deep voice cut through the greetings from the past.

“Aren’t you going to introduce us, buttercup?”

Both you and Frankie turned to Jack, Frankie’s eyes scanned the other man with a hint of curiosity. He followed the way the other’s arm was tightly wrapped around your waist. Jealousy rolled in his stomach, he was glad that you were happy, of course. Still, he couldn’t deny the loud blood rush in his ears.

“Frankie this is Ja– Bruce. This is Bruce,” you said, Frankie raised an eyebrow at the mixup. He wasn’t stupid. “He’s my–”

Bruce (Frankie didn’t believe that was the man’s name but he’d play along for now) cut in, his voice dripping with amusement.

“Boyfriend,” he leaned forward with an extended hand. With a kind, yet emotionless smile, Frankie squeezed the aforementioned limb. “Nice to meet you, Frankie.”

“Nice to meet you too.”

It wasn’t.

The air was thick with tension. You moved uncomfortably in your seat, as Frankie held “Bruce”’s gaze. He’s not sure what it was but the other man managed to rail him up by simply just sitting. It was an odd feeling, usually, Frankie was known to be level-headed in these kinds of situations. After everything he’s seen, he just assumed stuff like this wouldn’t bother him anymore. He pinched his brows together. It was uncomfortable to think that he was just faking not being bothered. Acting above it all.

His jaw tensed, his skin incredibly warm. Suddenly the music and the loud chatter faded into the background, all he could focus on was the other man—even you had become a blurred image to a degree. The man smiled, his hand on your waist gradually sliding up your body while answering Frankie’s gaze. The latter swallowed.

You gasped when the same hand cupped your breast and began to knead it.

“What are you doing?”

Frankie’s mouth went dry.

“Don’t fret, I’m just giving our friend a little show,”

Frankie vaguely noticed you staring at him, he was frozen still. His gaze was glued to the hand lazily squeezing your breast. Bruce nuzzled the dip of your jawline, lips gently grazing the line of your neck, and he breathed you in. Frankie licked his lips, his fingers twitching against the denim of his pants. Something primal stirred in him when your breath hitched. The red light gave the two of them a vibrant, erotic hue. The front of his jeans suddenly felt tight, uncomfortable.

The cowboy’s other hand traveled down to the wetness that Frankie’s sure had grown substantially between your legs. He noted the way your eyes rolled back, his finger underneath your dress, he imagined the other tracing your clothed folds.

“Do you enjoy being watched, dear?” he purred into your skin, his voice low and mocking. Then he looked up to Frankie who was frozen still. “Look at you, staring at her like a deer in headlights. Don’t you wanna come over here and feel how wet she is?”

Frankie had to stop himself from leaning forward, he was more than ready to take that extra step. His skin tingled. His eyes flit from the other man to you. He saw the way you stared at him, blinking heavily, a silent plea for him to come closer. He furrowed his brows, if you wanted to he’d happily take a seat next to you. He stepped closer, his heart skipped a beat. Bruce seemed to be delighted.

“Are you sure?” Frankie asked you.

You’re about to nod– No, not about to, you’re in the midst of nodding, but the movement was cut short when you saw something Frankie couldn’t. You were staring through him, your eyes went wide.

“Shit.”

Frankie watched dumbfounded as you grabbed Bruce by the arm and tugged him along as you scurried up from the booth. He took a step back, trying to make sense of what was happening. Bruce glared at you and yanked his arm away.

“What the hell–”

“It’s him– Albert Dunn, the waitress tipped him off. Come on Jack we need to go,”

Frankie raised an eyebrow. “Jack?”

He fucking knew his name wasn’t Bruce. He didn’t look like a Bruce.

Jack rushed to the door, leaving you alone. Frankie was worried, but he also felt anger simmering in his gut. So you went back to your ex, the ex that made you feel like shit and pushed you to seek comfort in other substances. Oh yeah, he was definitely angry.

He took a hold of your wrist and pulled you close so his voice could reach you.

“That was Jack? I thought–” he sighed and shook his head, it was hard to swallow his frustrations down but somehow he managed to do it. “You’re not in any kind of trouble, right? You’re safe?”

You nodded as you attempted to peel yourself away from his grasp, but he didn’t let you. He squeezed your wrists hard enough to be understood as a warning.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

“I can’t, I’m sorry.”

He felt defeated at that moment, his stomach sinking and his pulse slowing. His grip around your wrists loosened, and despite the crowd, it felt like it was only the two of you present. The bass of the music made his heart thud accordingly, his gaze dropped to the floor.

“I’ll call you,” you said suddenly.

Before Frankie could answer, you ran and disappeared into the crowd. He just stood there, hands lifeless against his body. Some part of him wanted to chase after you, but another part knew that he shouldn’t.

He didn’t know when but he jerked when a hand smacked his shoulder. Frankie turned only to see Benny, his smile faded as he saw Frankie’s expression.

“Are you alright, Fish?”

He wasn’t.

Frankie was working on a car for what felt like hours.

Sweat drips down his forehead and neck, leaving streaks of dirt on his skin. He wipes his oily hands on the rag that hangs from his back pocket, his eyes squinting against the hot sun. The air around him is thick with the smell of gasoline and motor oil, but he barely notices it anymore.

He sighs as he stands up, his knees aching from being hunched over for so long. The car is almost done, but he needs a break. He reaches for his water bottle, taking a long drink before leaning against the hood of the car.

That's when he hears it - the roar of an engine. He turns his head to see a vintage Ford Bronco driving towards him. He raises an eyebrow, surprised. It's not every day that a classic car like that pulls into his garage.

As the car comes to a stop, he walks towards it, wiping his hands on his jeans. He squints into the driver's seat, but he can't make out the driver's face. He shrugs, assuming it's just another customer, and goes back to his work.

But as the driver gets out of the car, Frankie's heart skips a beat—which he doesn’t appreciate. It's Jack. He feels a rush of emotion that he can't quite place. The man hops out of the car and greets him by tipping his hat. Frankie doesn’t return Jack’s enthusiasm. He just stares at him, confused.

“Need your car fixed?” he asks, hoping this is just a coincidence.

“Not quite,” Jack drawls. “I actually wanted to apologize for my behavior a week back—in the bar.” he adds when Frankie gave him a quizzical look. “I would like to buy you a drink.”

Frankie waves him off in dismissal, “No need. It’s nice for you to apologize but we don’t need to be friends. It’s weird.”

“I suppose it is,” he grins. “Just one drink.”

“Why?”

“I just want to talk,” he answers, teeth poking above his lip. “I don’t bite, promise.”

Frankie seems to have a lot of regrets nowadays. This is just one of many.

They walk into a dimly lit bar, the cool air conditioning a welcome relief from the hot day. Jack leads the way to a booth in the corner, and they both slide in, facing each other. Every muscle Frankie feels uncomfortably tight over his bones.

He really shouldn’t be here.

Jack orders them both a whiskey on the rocks, and he unpromptedly clinks his glass against Frankie’s. The first sip burns down Frankie's throat, but he relishes the sensation.

“So… you’re a mechanic?” Jack asks.

“She didn’t tell you much about me did she?” Frankie smiles, the corners of his lips twitch. “No, I guess she wouldn’t. Why would she tell her boyfriend about her ex.”

“We aren’t actually—” Jack swallows. “We aren’t actually a couple. We ain’t even friends to be truthful, just acquaintances.”

“From work?” Frankie asks despite knowing the answer, the other nods.

Frankie takes another sip of his whiskey and studies Jack’s face. There’s something different about him now. Maybe it’s the way he carries himself or the set of his jaw, but Frankie can’t quite put his finger on it. Frankie leans back against the booth, his eyes fixed on Jack’s face. He can feel his body tensing up again, despite the coolness of the air conditioning. He takes another sip of his whiskey, hoping it will calm his nerves.

“Listen, Jack,” Frankie says, his voice low. “I don’t know what you want from me.”

“I don’t want anythin’,” Jack says, his eyes meeting Frankie’s.

“Then why are we here?”

“I was just curious about what kind of man you are,” he swipes over his bottom lip. “She might’ve not spoken about you much but when she did, she did speak highly of you.”

Jack leans in closer, his arm brushing against Frankie's.

“It seems like you’re a much better man than I could ever be.”

“I wouldn’t really go that far. I don’t know you and I don’t know what she said but nothing is ever that simple.”

Frankie observes as Jack’s eyebrows slowly raise, eyes only slightly wider. The other seems taken aback by the words and Frankie’s not really sure why. Maybe Jack still wasn’t aware that good and bad didn’t exist, that they were just terms. No one is really truly bad or truly good, you understand that after being at war, after shooting others that had families and loved one’s before they shot you.

He shakes his head, trying to rid his thoughts of unpleasant memories. Those thoughts were only reserved for the late hours till morning—

Frankie feels the heat rising in his cheeks as Jack's hand brushes against his knee. He tries to ignore it, but he can't help but feel a stirring in his chest.

They start to get closer, their arms touching as they lean in to talk. Frankie can feel the heat of Jack's body next to his. Jack’s gaze lingers on him. He takes a sip of his drink, trying to steady his nerves. Frankie’s leg bobs up and down, he should leave.

“I should go,” Frankie chokes out, he shifts in his seat, getting ready to get up.

“Stay.”

Frankie can feel Jack’s breath on his cheek and his heart starts to race. It’s just a voice. Jack’s not even touching him, he not holding his wrists, doesn’t have a gun to his head but despite it, Frankie stills.

“I appreciate the drink,” he says, trying to keep his voice steady. “But I’m fine.”

“Are you sure about that?” Jack asks.

“I’m sure,” he says, his eyes locked with Jack’s.

Jack leans in even closer, his lips just inches away from Frankie’s ear. “Alright then,” he whispers, his breath sending shivers down Frankie’s spine. “See you later, Francisco.”

Frankie can’t throw himself out of the bar fast enough.

The world around him spins, the cars louder, brighter the before. He heaves a breath. What the hell was that? He thinks over and over. The warmth of Jack’s breath still lingers and Frankie crosses the street, adamant about putting as much distance as he can.

When he’s on the other side, his phone buzzes in his pocket. He doesn’t recognize the caller ID but takes any kind of distraction with open arms and answers.

“Hello?”

“Frankie it’s me,” you say and an odd sense of relief washes over him. “Can we meet up?”

He stops, takes deep breaths of the city air. His throat is dry and he lifts his head to the sky.

“Sure,” he answers. “How does tomorrow sound?”

#frankie morales x you #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales #jack daniels x fem!reader #jack daniels x you #jack daniels x reader #agent whiskey x you #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x f!reader #frankie morales x you x jack daniels #frankie morales x reader x jack daniels #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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formeroklahoman · 5 months

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I was 19, I was 22, I was skinny and hot as the steaming coffee I drank black every morning from Jack's Deli. I had the gray, fitted designer winter coat. Men turned when I passed construction sites and whistled and put down their hammers. I could dance to anything - salsa the two step, improv. Just put on music and I was all in.

I stole clothes from John Wanamaker and Saks Fifth Avenue, I had boots, bodysuits, one pound earrings. I danced to Donna Summer, Madonna, Blondie. Under disco balls, under the moonlight, in the Black Banana and Studio 54.

The bouncer always called me to the front of the line. They had nicknames for me, and me for them.

I sweat, I jiggled, I fucked, and I judged other women who couldn't dance, didn't have a sense of style, who ate too much, who were too fat or too loud or too in love or not in love enough. Or were too old wearing too short skirts.

What were they thinking?

I was on top of the world, and I was with a man who loved the wild weed of me, and when he saw me judge another woman or another man, or the male prostitute dressed like Little Bo Peep who hung on my front steps leading up to my apartment, he would say things to me about the people I judged.

He would say look how beautiful she thinks she is.

Or he said, Baby, you don't know her story.

Or he said, she's trying to get attention, let's give her some.

He dug through my closet while I was getting ready to go to dinner with him, and when I'd search for my favorite green, designer sweater with the pearl buttons, I'd usually find it on Little Bo Peep, and my man would say he was cold, he gave it to him while I was in the shower, and he'd buy me another sweater.

I studied how he moved through the wintery world beside me.

I watched him glide with grace and love and kindness and forgiveness and laughter.

He saw something in me nobody else saw and I began to see it too.

He saw my broken from my broken family and my potential to love the way we were all meant to love each other. He made love to me tenderly to heal my broken, and sometimes with hunger to catch my insatiable desire to feel even more alive.

He saw my potential to see, my potential to feel, my potential for empathy and kindness - he taught me how to love the too loud woman checking out at the grocery store and the man who held up the plane and then demanded a different seat after we'd all been waiting a half hour.

He taught me to love the taxi driver who took us to the opera who had eight children who couldn't make his rent. We gave him our tickets, a night at the opera and a check for what he would have made that night.

Love was a verb and we practiced it together.

As a fledging in training, I discovered each of person had a story I didn't know, and every person I judged or laughed at or decided who they were was me hiding from my own humanity, because the truth is it's sometimes hard to see.

I began to see Little Bo Peep whose mascara always seemed to be streaked down his cheeks from crying and I let him into my designer closet. I began to see all of Jack at the Deli - his gruffness was from lack of sleep from taking care of his mother.

Now when I look back on that time, I understand I was with a man who was my spiritual guide but he just looked like an electrician from Philadelphia who left hoagie wrappers on the floor of his red Ford Bronco.

When my writing partner said I should write the scene of me crawling into his open casket after he died, wanting my whole body on top of his whole body one more time - I knew it wouldn't make any sense unless you knew who he was, and who I was.

And who I was becoming.

At the funeral, my knees were soaked from his fourteen year old son's grief snot - he had collapsed into my lap sobbing, and I was stroking his hair. Then I stood up and walked toward the open casket. I had to feel his cold, thick lips sewn or glued shut, his limp hands, his shiny bald head, to be sure he wasn't there.

I put one leg up and hoisted myself into his coffin, and I let out a sound no human being should ever make, or a sound all of us should always make when we have to let go. It was as ancient as the elephant who rocks the bones of the dead.

As ancient as whale song or the Orca who carried her dead baby on her back for weeks and miles.

I'm sure my cousins pulled me out of the coffin, and took my small writhing ball of grief body outside where the trees could hold my sounds.

The man I loved who left too soon - his memory is still there every day to remind me to have compassion and not judgement, because you never know another person's heart until you stop and ask them about their life and listen.

Chaunce launched me out into this magnificent and complicated and tragic world with a heart that had eyes, and I wanted to say this morning that I see you and I want your story and I can receive your story and reflect your goodness and your beauty back to you, as it was done for me.

Once you know how to love, nobody can take that from you.

And everything really is going to be okay, because love heals - it's the best prescription to cure anything.

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silva-exspiravit · 1 year

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I’ve spent more money on alcohol than last 3 months than I have in weed and holy fuck! I honestly need to stop drinking so much, I know I’m just making life worse for myself but than again is there such a thing as a good life? Like for the past 7 years I’ve wanted to die more than I’ve wanted to live and I’ve tried but it doesn’t work. I’m literally stuck in this earth and it sucks so I drink. I used to do drugs to kill my demons but now I drink to drown my demons. At least I’m responsible enough to drink on a Friday and not during the work week. I just spent $45 on 2 bottles of Jack so hopefully that’s enough for the weekend to either make me fall asleep and not wake up or black out and say fuck it. I hate feeling this way so why not drink. I always told myself I’d never become an alcoholic but I also never knew I would ever have to deal with this much pain and depression for so damn long. I can’t let go so instead for the last almost 7 years I take the pain and buy a bottle or 2 and drink and drink and drink until I hurt or am dead or the bottles are empty. Honestly it’d be easier if god or even the devil just took me off this earth.

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homeimgs · 2 years

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Halloween Kitchen Decor Ideas

Halloween Kitchen Decor Ideas for a unique, turn to the counter space. Set a creepy vignette with candles and add skeleton Halloween kitchen accents. A "trick or treat" sign can be added for any children in the house. Here are some more ideas for creating a haunted-looking Halloween kitchen:

Halloween Kitchen Decor

Table runner

Using a Halloween-themed table runner on your dining room table will give your Halloween kitchen a scary look this October. You can find themed linens at home decor stores such as The Weed Patch. They sell placemats and coasters that feature skeletons and spiderwebs. If you like to change things up every once in a while, try using a table runner that's black and orange.

Halloween Kitchen Decor If you're unsure about the colors to use, go with a farmhouse Halloween kitchen aesthetic. You can use a white-washed container to display dried flowers and pumpkins. A pointy witch hat will elevate your pumpkin decor to a new level. A black-and-white color scheme is also classic, but you can still incorporate a touch of spooky flair with it. For example, you can use a spider web table cloth with twig accents for a sophisticated look.

Halloween Kitchen Decor

Pumpkin garland

This season, make your Halloween kitchen decorations more festive by using a simple pumpkin garland. You can find jute strands with eight Jack-O-Lanterns on them. Alternatively, you can make a centerpiece out of a pumpkin. This idea is both inexpensive and easy to implement. Simply spray paint the cans black, drill holes, and string them up. Then use cinnamon sticks to add a pleasing smell to your home.

Halloween Kitchen Decor A few other fun ideas for your Halloween kitchen include painting miniature pumpkins and putting them in candle holders. You can also place them on your windowsills, or add a miniature haunted house. For a truly spooky ambiance, use candlelight to illuminate your decorations. Remember, it's best to decorate everywhere! This year, you can even buy new styles of pumpkins! Try amber glass pumpkins, which showcase the pale orange of real pumpkins and can even be used as cloches.

Halloween Kitchen Decor

Burlap scarecrow

Make your own Halloween kitchen scarecrow! This simple decoration is made from burlap, hay, and a flannel shirt. Cut a hole in one long edge and use fabric glue to secure it. Cut out a nose and cheeks from felt and glue them to the top of the burlap. Add a straw hat and a few small bunches of hay and nail them to the board under the burlap. You may want to use permanent markers to draw on the mouth, nose, and eyes.

Halloween Kitchen Decor If you don't want your scarecrow to scare your guests, make it yourself. Burlap is inexpensive and easy to find in a craft store. Burlap is commonly used as a plant cover or to wrap plants during the winter. You can also draw on a goofy face or a werewolf face. Whatever you choose, it will definitely be a conversation starter at your next Halloween kitchen gathering!

Halloween Kitchen Decor Burlap scarecrows are a perfect DIY project for little hands. You don't need a sewing machine, so even your children can help. Make sure you supervise the kids but let them handle the scissors. If possible, start early on Halloween kitchen day. Once they're finished, they'll be amazed at how easy this decor project is. It's a great idea to involve your kids in the decoration process!

Halloween Kitchen Decor

Crystal balls

For a creepy, ghostly feel, use crystal balls in the shape of skulls as part of your Halloween kitchen decor. These creepy balls are inexpensive and can be bought at a dollar store. However, beware that if left out after Halloween, they might attract unwanted attention. To avoid this problem, you can buy skull-inspired crystal balls at craft stores. But be careful: these items are not entirely safe to leave out.

Halloween Kitchen Decor A silicone mold and Ekopel 2K or another epoxy are essential to make crystal balls. Popsicle sticks or a stir stick are ideal for this project. A paintbrush is also helpful when using this material. Once dry, you can paint the crystal balls with regular paint. You can purchase these materials at a craft store, hardware store or even online. But if you do not have these supplies, you can DIY crystal balls for a fun Halloween kitchen decor idea!

Halloween Kitchen Decor

Mini terrariums

Making your own terrariums is an excellent Halloween kitchen decor idea. You can use hanging globes or decorative glass bowls to house a variety of plants. The terrarium can also be decorated with a variety of accessories, including skulls and faux ravens. Terrariums have their roots in the early 19th century, when Victorian ladies mounted ferns under glass or on wrought iron stands.

Halloween Kitchen Decor A mini terrarium is the perfect size for a Halloween kitchen island, and you can decorate it in any way you choose. You can place the plants in the front and the back of the terrarium. Tip the smaller plants forward to fill the lower portion of the terrarium. Once you have completed the terrarium, it can be used as a simple decor item and as a seasonal decoration.

Halloween Kitchen Decor Mini terrariums make great centerpieces for any table. The inside scene is both spooky and child-friendly. You can easily make this centerpiece with the help of your children. You can even add a moon to emphasize the scene. Make them easy and fun! You can use them to set the theme for your next Halloween party! There are many options for Halloween kitchen decorations. You can try a simple and cheap way to decorate your kitchen.

Halloween Kitchen Decor

DIY test tubes

With Halloween fast approaching, it's time to start planning your Halloween party and Halloween kitchen decor. Test tubes are the perfect way to fill a glass or shot glass with candy for place settings or food for your food table. Not only do they look great, but they're also easy to make. You can even create a Halloween kitchen cocktail using test tubes. Here are some great ideas. These fun, easy and funky decorations will have you and your guests spooked in no time!

Halloween Kitchen Decor Start by painting the test tube with glue, then sprinkle on some magic. This can be glitter, shimmer powder, or iridescent flakes. Whatever magical things you have lying around, just make sure they look magical! You can also use a needle tool to create a small mark on the paperboard. Once the test tubes are dry, you can place them into the spice rack. Now, they're ready for the next step in your Halloween kitchen decor.

Halloween Kitchen Decor Another easy Halloween kitchen DIY is to create a spooky hand soap. This spooky DIY takes about 5 minutes to create, and is perfect to place in your bathroom during the Halloween kitchen season. You can also use paint and pipe cleaners to make face-shaped Halloween soaps. If you're too busy to paint them, try using a cutting machine to cut the faces out. Alternatively, you can simply paint the faces.

Halloween Kitchen Decor

Halloween Kitchen Decor Read the full article

#kitchen

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420worldstrainsdispensary · 3 years

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call-me-aesthetic · 3 years

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If Twisted Wonderland was an American Public School

WARNING: There are some slight sensitive topics that are featured in here! Reader discretion is advised!

Part 2 can be found here

Heartslabyul

Riddle Rosehearts:

- That one preppy girl who takes all honors and AP classes 😑

- Wants everyone to know that he’s becoming a doctor one day for his strict parents or he’ll dishonor the family

- Reminds the teacher about homework, knowing well that he’ll get slander for it

- Complains about how he got a 90 on his test or a B on his report card, a try hard much?

- Wears a cardigan with thicc but cute glasses since he’s one of those people with can’t see shit on the board so he has to move to the front of the class

Ace Trappola:

- The SoundCloud rapper, that’s it

- “Wanna listen to my mixtape? It’s pretty fire, my guy.” 😩🔥

- You will not miss him BLASTING out some song on his Bluetooth speaker, that shit be echoing through the hallways

- Tells you to stop what you’re doing only for him to either sing horribly or do a backflip, thinking that he’s so cool

- Wears a Supreme jacket with AirPods and waves on his head

Deuce Spade:

- Assuming that he’s still a delinquent, he’s that kid with the most fucked up school record

- Not much of a bully but will still talk shit to your face without caring, might even throw stuff at you during a lesson and you would be the one getting in trouble instead of him 🗿

- If he ever gets mad, it would be overdramatic like kicking the desks, punching the lockers, or walking out of the classroom unannounced and everyone would look at each other wondering wtf happened

- Covers the entire desks with drawings of skulls and those “s” if you know what I mean

- Wears Champion hoodies, wants you to know that he’s broke and rich at the same time

Trey Clover:

- The guy that’s not really popular but everyone knows him since he’s in all their classes

- Most people might have a crush on him because he’s REALLY nice 😳👉👈

- Gives off “older brother” vibes based on the way he looks and acts, like offering you a ride home if you beg ask nicely

- Secretly bakes creme brulee but doesn’t want to mess with the flow so he sticks to the status quo

- Wears the school’s hoodie just because he thinks it looks good on him, and the fact that he doesn’t know what else to wear

Cater Diamond:

- Hot Cheetos girl 🥵

- Has a whole buffet of food in his backpack and will not hesitate to eat them during a lesson, no sharing either sorry

- Excuses himself to the bathroom or full on skips class just to film a Tiktok

- Has about 100 followers on Instagram Magicam and brags about how he’s famous

- Wears a Thrasher hoodie with large hoop earrings and his hair in a bun

Savanaclaw

Leona Kingscholar:

- The kid who flunked their freshman year that also sort of vibes with new classmates

- Always gets mistaken as a teacher by people since he looks and sounds old

- Knows the lessons but still fails them anyways, didn’t really give a damn either 🙄

- Captain of every sports club you can think of, never actually plays but has a lot of knowledge on them

- Wears the school’s letterman from years ago since it used to be his brother’s and that he’s too lazy to buy a new one

Ruggie Bucchi:

- That one kid who NEVER has money for the book fair or any other school event

- Always has to ask his classmates for some cash

- If he somehow does, then he’s one of those kids who buys Diary of the Wimpy Kid or the World Record books

- If he’s feeling cheap, he’ll buy the “cool stuff” like the chocolate scented calculator or fruit snacks 😭

- Wears oversized hoodies and basketball shorts that are clearly hand-me-downs

Jack Howl:

- That one athletic kid who’s both scary good and competitive when it comes to school games like football or soccer

- Literally the best player on his team and without him, they’re trash as hell 💀

- Tries his absolute best to support his teammates without yelling at them for how dumb they are

- “KICK THE FUCKING BALL! DO YOUR LEGS EVEN WORK?!”

- Wears the school’s jersey just to show off his “school spirit”

Octavinelle

Azul Ashengrotto:

- The kid who sell snacks for “charity” but everyone knows he’s keeping the money to himself

- If you don’t have cash or try to negotiate with him, the only thing he’ll do is raise the price up

- “What do you mean you don’t have ten bucks? I can see it in your pocket.”

- Just bring nothing with you, he’ll doing anything to steal your stuff 🤭

- Wears a collar shirt with a tie and khakis that have pockets to keep his glasses and money in

Jade Leech:

- The kid who puts on a goody two shoes facade but is actually a stoner

- Only does “safe” drugs like vape but occasionally smokes weed, mostly in the bathroom or behind the school 🌬

- Can play it off and hide the scent when he’s high, teachers never suspect anything from him

- No one really cares to stop him unless he gets caught or something idk

- Wears clothing that either makes him look like a businessman or a junky, there’s nothing in between

Floyd Leech:

- The kid that’s plays basketball or volleyball just because he’s hella tall, and is actually good at the sports but doesn’t put much effort into them

- Always stays behind after gym, even though the teacher tries to make him leave for his next class 😬

- “I swear after this one shot, I’ll go to class.” *He never made that shot*

- Will jump you no matter who or where you are, and will get angry if you step on his new shoes

- Wears the jersey of any famous team with the latest pair of Jordan sneakers

Scarabia

Kalim Al Asim:

- VSCO girl at best, don’t lie to me now 🤡

- The only words he knows are “And I oop– sksksk.” and “Save the turtles.”

- Walks during a track meet while everyone else is running and sweating hard, the teacher doesn’t care either

- Doesn’t really do anything in gym but talks to his classmates and stands near the water fountain to refill his Hydro flask

- Wears tie dye shirts with cute scrunchies

Jamil Viper:

- That one quiet kid who everybody thinks is a serial killer but he’s actually not, I swear

- He just wants school to be over and spend the rest of his summer relaxing 😔

- Although he shouldn’t abuse his “power,” he‘ll move his hands in his pockets or backpack to make it look like he’s about to pull a weapon out.

- “Chill, I’m just grabbing a pencil.” *Everyone in the class started crying*

- Wears dark colored hoodies that intimidates people but are actually comfy

Pomefiore

Vil Schoenheit:

- The baddie popular girl 😌💅✨

- Arrives to school late with a Starbucks in hand from his local Target

- Fixes himself every 5 seconds like reapplying his lipgloss or spraying Bath and Body Works cherry blossom perfume

- Uses acrylic nails and long hair extensions as weapons during a cat fight

- Wears a crop top with ripped jeans and those clout sunglasses

Rook Hunt:

- That creepy guy in the hallways who tries to get your attention, even if you don’t know him

- Scares people when he says, “Ayo, where my hug at?” 🥶💯

- Uses at least 10 cans of Axe body spray a week after gym class, which stinks up the locker rooms

- Waves at you if he passes your class, even walking into the room just to say hi

- Wears literally anything but always include a hat

Epel Felmier:

- The artist girl who just wants to be alone 🧑‍🎨

- Purposely draws in front of you but pretends like you’re not looking

- If you complement him, he’ll just brush it off and proceeds to diss himself

- “Thanks but I’m not THAT good at drawing, teehee.” *Insert Radio Rebel face*

- Wears a hoodie or a cardigan with big pockets to put his art supplies in

Ignihyde

Idia Shroud:

- I don’t even need to tell you who he is, y’all already know ahaha 🥴

- Sneaks a whole PlayStation in his backpack so he can play with it during lunch

- Is on his phone 24/7 even in class to the point where teachers don’t care anymore

- Tries to get people into anime but only to little success

- Wears a shirt of any anime character or that damn ahegao hoodie, girl bye

Ortho Shroud:

- The nerdy kid who’s known for destroying others at many games

- Plays classics like D&D, Yugioh, Pokémon, the whole shabang

- Daily Beyblade battles during recess with everyone surrounding him, the menacing aura radiates off of him

- Will steal your things if you lose to him but gives it back a week later cuz he’s sweet 🥰

- Wears light up Sketchers shoes and those Minecraft shirts you find at Old Navy

Diasomnia

Malleus Draconia:

- The theatre kid who also goes to band practice, change my mind 👁👄👁

- Takes his role seriously when it comes to school plays and concerts, even if he gets casted as a damn tree or doesn’t go solo

- Remembers the songs and their lyrics to any musical you name, a really good singer at that too

- Plays almost every instrument, you definitely know this since you can hear him down the hallways during a test

- Wears a white button up shirt, black pants with fancy dress shoes, and top it all off with a fricking Rolex watch

Lilia Vanrouge:

- The weird guy who pranks people and vandalizes school property in every way possible

- If you ever get a textbook with a message that tells you to go to a certain page only for you to found a picture of a dick, yeah that was him 😒

- When using a Chromebook, he’ll leave a tab open on YouTube so when the next person uses it, pray that your ears will still work by tomorrow

- During lunch, he is a literal DEMON that mixes milk with chicken nuggets together and having the audacity to eat it too

- Wears an oversized raincoat or a windbreaker but idk wtf kind of things he has hiding underneath

Silver:

- That guy in class who consumes Monster energy drinks and falls asleep 99% of the time but somehow manages to pass the class 🤷

- Whenever he’s awake, he’ll talk to the teachers since he’s basically friends with them for some reason

- Writes his name out of boredom on any desk you sit on but in different places, sometimes around the corners or the sides

- Has a sixth sense because he’ll wake up if you try to draw on his face and if you did get something on him, it’s on sight

- Wears those colorful hoodies that zips all the way up to cover his face with a matching backpack, it’s pretty cool ngl

Sebek Zigvolt:

- That kid who literally knows everything about historical wars and will show it off during class

- Also has knowledge on weaponry, which has people questioning him but he’s just very dedicated on serving his country and people

- Knows how to fight and defend himself from a bitch since he spent his summer at a military boot camp, put respect on my man’s name 😤

- Honestly a great partner for a group project, actually does the given work but not the whole thing for you

- Wears anything that has camo pattern and chunky combat boots

I only made this because me and my friends were talking about our school memories so yeah. This is based from my experience so they might not be exactly accurate. Might even be a part two if you want.

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blue-eyed-cutiepatootie · 3 years

Text

Growing Pains

wc 579 established relationship, dad!dean, dadstiel, kid!jack

Dean is reading in the family room on a Saturday evening when he hears Cas and Jack return from their walk. Jack is chattering excitedly. Dean hears Cas shoo Jack to his bedroom to get changed for bed and something about a doll house. A doll house? Dean couldn't remember Jack getting a doll house. He gets up to investigate and on his way to Jack's room, he freezes in the living room. A little pink bike with training wheels. A dollhouse. A Minnie Mouse play vanity. Sitting in his living room. With...are those spiderwebs?

He's suddenly taken back to being four years old, shortly before his life was turned upside down, seeing a sparkly pink bike at a yard sale with his mom. They were looking for clothes for Sammy who was growing like a weed. The lady at the yard sale let him ride it in the driveway while his mom looked through baby clothes. It had tassels and a purple basket. He really wanted that bike. After paying for Sammy's new clothes, Mary called for Dean to put the bike back. Daddy wouldn't approve, she said, and Dean could tell she was sorry. She let him pick out a hot wheels car for a dime. It was black with flames. John-approved.

"Dean?" He looks up at Cas's hesitant tone. Dean can only imagine what his face looks like. "I can take them back, they were just sitting out on the curb down the street and Jack was so excited when he saw them. He really wants to learn to ride a bike. Maybe we could paint it? Although he really does like the color-" Cas stops abruptly when Dean takes his hands. He hates that Cas still has to be careful with him, but he's getting better. He's not John.

"If Jack likes the color then it's perfect." He pulls Cas into a hug. "You're such a good dad."

Cas leans back and lifts a hand to Dean's face. Oh god, when had he started crying?

The moment is broken by Jack calling, "Dee! Story time!"

Cas presses a tender kiss to Dean's lips, "Sweetheart, so are you."

Clearing his throat, Dean wipes his eyes again. "Be there in a minute, bug!" He rests his head on Cas's shoulder and takes a steadying breath. "He should be allowed to enjoy the things he likes. Be a kid."

Cas gently runs his fingers through Dean's hair.

"Deeee!"

"I can do story time if you need a minute," Cas says softly, "but if one of us doesn't go in there soon you know he's going to get out of bed. And then it'll be another two hours until he gets to sleep."

Dean shakes his head and stands up straight. "Nah, I got it. But, uh, would you wipe these down while I'm in there? There's bugs 'n shit all over them. I think that bike seat is supposed to be white."

Cas chuckles, "Of course, sweetheart."

Dean goes to read a bedtime story to his son. His son who is free to enjoy whatever toys and colors he likes with no shame. He makes a mental note to buy Jack a bike helmet tomorrow before he gives the kid a bike riding lesson.

The next day Cas takes photos of Jack in his frog helmet and buzz lightyear Halloween costume on his bright pink bike, the homemade cardboard wings flapping as he rides confidently towards Dean.

#liv wrote a thing #destiel fic #deancas fic #dadstiel #dad!dean #kid!jack

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let-them-read-fics · 3 years

Text

Bite

Pairing: Vamp!Lisa x Human!Fem!Reader

AU: Vampire

Word Count: ~ 5,564

Warnings / Misc. -- Mentions of Blood

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: Hey everyone! I'm alive! School has kept me crazy busy and I've had my hands full with other things as well, but I finished writing this one and I wanted to share with you lovely peeps. To everyone who stopped by to check in, and to those of you who’ve been patiently waiting, thank you endlessly. I love having you as my readers 💜

PS ~ I hope this isn't too bad for my first one shot in forever! Also, happy Lisa era. I’m so proud of our girl!

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Saturday, October 31st

You look like an idiot.

The nurse uniform you have on is obnoxiously cliché; short and tattered in various places to really sell the "sexy" aspect of it, little is left to the imagination. Fake blood stains dot the flimsy material in random patterns and mat some strands of the tacky blonde wig atop your head, making you look like something out of a B-movie at best.

A bonafide, absolute idiot.

When you express that sentiment to your best friend, she just rolls her eyes and holds out one last costume for you to try on. She had a few lined up in case you didn't like her other options, and clearly that's come in handy; you've already worked through the previous picks, so she crosses her fingers as your eyes skim over this one.

"Humor me, will you?" She asks, hoping that you'll give in and at least check this last one out.

"Fine, but this is your last chance. It had better be good." You raise a pointed finger at her in warning.

"I have a good feeling about this one," she says, smiling as you take the bag from her and slip into the dressing room one final time.

Her phone chimes soon after, and she's quick to retrieve it from her pocket.

Willow: Are you guys almost here?? Jackson's been asking about you.

Your best friend bites her lip at that, nervously nibbling on it as she rereads the message to make sure she didn't imagine the last part. She's liked Jackson since middle school, and he'll be swinging by the party that you've all been invited to; that's one of the main reasons she begged you to come with her tonight.

Y/BFFs/N: Still getting ready. We'll be there ASAP tho!

Willow: Alright, we'll see you soon. Don't take all night, or else👩🤛

Y/BFFs/N: Yah, cut the violence!

The sound of your best friend's soft giggling fills the air just as you manage to fasten the costume's last zipper and pull its hood over your head.

Surprise etches its way into your features as you do a spin, taking in the sight of yourself through the full length mirror of the dressing room. The outfit's red and black color schemes complement each other beautifully, giving you a powerful and sensual appeal that the other costumes didn't even stand a chance of doing. You look alluring in every sense of the word.

"Holy shit," your best friend says when you emerge, striking a pose. "You look hot!" She squeals, clapping a few times in quick succession.

There's no way you think this one looks bad.

"I think Wanda would be proud," you grin, tilting your head up and wrapping the cape around your neck.

"One hundred percent," Y/BFFs/N nods adamantly, in total agreement. The Scarlet Witch getup really compliments your features.

"Now," she starts, changing topics as she looks in the reflection of her phone's dark screen to adjust some of her hair that's gone astray. "Let's pay and then go. Willow's looking for us, and my future man's wondering where I am, too."

"Hell yeah!" You chuckle, patting her on the back. "I'll help you finally land him so you can stop pining."

You watch as she takes a moment to decide between coming up with a decent rebuttal to defend herself or agreeing with you, and you smile when she goes for the latter.

"I'd accept nothing less," she says, holding her head high like a princess. "You are my wingwoman, after all."

"And the best one in town," you add, tugging her towards the register. She reaches into her purse and pulls out the money to pay before politely handing it to the cashier.

The teenage boy takes it with a small smile, though the action looks a little comical as his upper lip gets caught on the cheap, plastic fangs he's sporting. His knock-off version of Dracula is definitely…. something… and you can tell that his managers forced him to wear it for the holiday.

"Come back and s-shhee us," he says, handing your change back. Your best friend takes it, failing to contain her laughter at his messy speech. He blushes crimson, likely cursing the plastic teeth for making him look a fool.

"We surely will," you respond, giving him a comforting smile to keep his embarrassment at bay. He nods gratefully, and you're quickly pulled out of the store by your best friend.

"Happy Halloween!" You shout over your shoulder, accompanied by the chime of the bell over the door.

"You too," he calls back, letting out a soft sigh.

---

20 Minutes Later -- The Party

Upon rounding the front of your car and stepping up onto the sidewalk outside of Willow's house, your attention is immediately caught by the numerous decorations that she put up last week.

"Huh," you mumble, gazing up at the skeleton that towers above you, standing 12 feet tall. "I think it's safe to say that this is her favorite holiday…"

"What makes you think that?" Your best friend plays, feigning ignorance as she pops up from behind a life-sized, animatronic Jason Voorhees.

"I don't know," you tut, admiring Willow's hard work a little longer. "Just a feeling."

Y/BFFs/N giggles in her unique way, making you smile at the sound as the two of you make your way up the path towards the house. You gaze down at your feet, careful to step on the stones of the walkway and avoid the motion-activated hands that scramble out of the weeds to grab unsuspecting guests.

Having known Willow your entire childhood, you've grown used to her ways.

*knock knock*

A strong, iconic synth bassline sounds off from inside, filling the otherwise quiet night around you with its catchy beat as you wait to be let in. Its sound is well known, and you almost instantly recognize it as "Sweet Dreams" by the Eurythmics.

A few seconds later, you hear clambering from inside, followed by concerning groans and shouted apologies.

Y/BFFs/N arches a skeptical brow at you, perfectly mirroring your thoughts.

Directly after, the door swings open in a flash, and you're nearly tackled by a whizz of curly hair.

"There you guys are!" Willow shrieks, pulling the two of you close as she nuzzles her face against your cheeks.

"Yep, here we are," you struggle out, nearly being strangled in her tight grip. She responds by squeezing you even tighter, blinded by her joy at seeing you again.

After all, it's been a while since all three of you have had the opportunity to spend the night partying together like this.

"Can't… breathe," Y/BFFs/N squeaks, successfully getting Willow to release you.

"Sorry," she apologizes, stepping back. "I'm just so happy you're here."

The freckles that spread across the bridge of her nose look especially adorable with the blush she's sporting, and her shy grin makes you forget about the near-fatality you just encountered moments before.

"We're happy to be here," you reassure her, returning her smile.

Your best friend agrees from beside you, nodding her head with a happy look of her own. "Believe it or not, we've missed your weirdness." She adds, cocking her head to the side.

Willow giggles again, and her eyes crinkle up into those half crescents that could surely melt even the iciest of hearts. She's practically sunshine in human form, and you have to resist the urge to shield your eyes.

"Yo, Willow! Who's at the door?"

Jackson.

You feel your best friend tense beside you, and you subtly pat her leg to calm her down.

Willow falls silent, though her lips go through the beginning stages of answering him; they open and purse, but she quickly halts her reply and shuts her mouth. She knows of Y/BFFs/N's crush on him, and she doesn't want to say the wrong thing.

Plus, if the lovesick girl wants to run and hide in the bushes, Willow's silence could buy her some time to slip away.

But alas, she doesn't.

Jackson appears in the doorway a mere 5 seconds after asking his question with a beer clutched in his hand. He moves to lean against the wooden frame as his pearly smile beams at you, and Y/BFFs/N audibly swallows at the sight.

For someone who's usually so confident, she can really be shy sometimes.

"Lovely to see you, ladies," he greets, putting his free hand in front of him as he bows. His accent is modeled after that of Jack Sparrow, as is his surprisingly well designed costume.

You nod back at him. "Hey, Jackson. Long time no see."

You elbow your best friend when she remains silent for a beat too long, and the action snaps her back to reality.

"Yeah, hey Jackson." Her voice is quiet -- she doesn't trust it to refrain from cracking.

He smiles, not failing to notice the nervous aura that's quickly taken over the girl beside you. Her eyes nearly pop out of her head when he gives her a curious once-over, and you take that as your cue to save her from the impending embarrassment that's lurking just around the corner.

"Alright, guys!" You clap, stepping forward. "Let's get to partying."

Her shoulders relax, and you feel her slip her hand into yours as you enter the house, squeezing twice as a silent thank you.

15 Minutes Later

Willow stands beside you in the kitchen, mixing a few things together in one of the millions of red solo cups that she bought for tonight. You sneak a peek over her shoulder at the concoction, seeing its light blue color turn purple-ish as she adds a new liquor into the equation.

In comparison to typical house parties, this one is relatively small; most of the rooms are filled with people, but it's a comfortable amount. Maneuvering around the place is fairly easy, which is always a plus when you're coexisting with sweaty, drunk people.

"Willow, love, why did you buy so many cups?" You ask, toying with the ripped plastic packaging of one of the stacks.

"You know I like to be prepared," she laughs, brushing off her major miscalculation. "Plus I can just use the rest of them at my next party."

You nod, knowing she's right. "Are you having another soon?"

"I think so. Jiu and her crew are coming back in a couple weeks, so I thought I'd surprise them with one."

You scoff, humor laced in the sound. "What, they didn't get enough partying done at their university already?"

Willow turns around, grinning at you as she hands you your drink. "Evidently campus police keep a close eye on them. Siyeon whined about that a lot when she called me."

"Sounds like her," you chuckle into your cup as you take a sip.

PFFT

"Eww, Willow! What did you put in this?!"

Your spit take didn't land on anyone, thankfully, but it did capture the attention of some people nearby. You wave a hand at them as a silent apology, and they go back to their previous tasks.

The curly headed prankster covers her mouth, though the action does a terrible job of quieting her maniacal laughter.

"You're lucky Y/BFFs/N isn't over here," you say, wiping your lips with the back of your hand. "She'd avenge me."

Willow uses a napkin to dab the tears of laughter from her eyes. "Why else do you think I waited until she was busy with Jackson?" She asks, motioning to her lounge room across the foyer.

You look inside, spotting Y/BFFs/N holding a pool cue in her hand as Jackson sinks another shot into one of the corner pockets.

The sight reminds you of the pep talk and 2 shots of liquid courage you gave her earlier, and how she disappeared with the promise to make a move and actually talk to him. Now, she looks completely absorbed in whatever banter they're sharing, and although your violated taste buds still ache from the sickly-sweet mixture that Willow made, you wouldn't want her to be anywhere else.

You can get your own revenge.

Sneaking a glance around the kitchen, you search for something to help with your retaliation. A small package of streamers lays abandoned on the island, forgotten to be put up earlier, and you slyly grin. Their ribbons sparkle with glitter, shimmering as the multicolored party lights stream in from the living room and land on them.

It's as if the universe is putting a spotlight on them, just for you.

After side eyeing Willow one final time to ensure that she isn't catching onto your plan, you act quickly. She stands beside the counter, right where you left her, and you dart to the island to grab the streamers. Your fingertips soon gain purchase on the packaging, and you tear it open in one swift motion.

Her gaze locks onto yours just as you near her, but it's far too late for her to get away.

"Take this!" You declare, upending the baggie atop her head. She shrieks as they cascade down her body, getting caught in the creases and wrinkles of her costume as they go. A small wave of glitter tumbles out of the bag as well, coating her hair and clothes.

Boy, that'll be fun to try and get out later.

Her head slowly raises once you finish your assault and place the baggie on the countertop beside you, but the look in her eye is unlike anything you've ever seen.

"You're dead," she warns. Just as the smile drops from your face, an even larger, more sinister one begins forming on hers.

The floor creaks beneath your feet slightly as you take a step back, and you know you have to high tail it out of there if you want to evade her.

"Catch me if you can!" You shout, springing into action. You turn around and dart out of the room, gliding past numerous partygoers in the hall.

Willow's choice of footwear works in your favor, you soon realize; the sharp rapping sound of her heels pierces the air behind you, serving as a tell of how much distance is between you.

Her unstable platforms buy you a little time, and you thank the universe as you rush through the living room and back towards the foyer. You plan to cut across it and hide out in one of the bathrooms until she drops her plan for revenge.

A grin pulls at your cheeks as you skid into one of the walls, looking like a character from Scooby-Doo as you will your feet to work correctly again and get you to safety. Willow laughs behind you, joining in on the fun.

"Perfect," you mutter under your breath, spotting a clear path through the foyer. It leads under the stairs, and you can see the open door of the bathroom from where you are.

Your feet take you past a handful of drunk people, bobbing and weaving through them with ease, before you're racing towards the restroom to take cover.

Before you can make it there, though, you collide with someone rather abruptly as they step straight into your path.

Your eyes shut tightly as you brace yourself for impact with the ground, but it never comes. The person reaches out and catches you before you can hit the floor, and a soft apology slips past their lips as they scoop you up.

Upon hearing that uniquely feminine voice speak its regret again, you peek your eyes open. What you see nearly makes the woman's effort to keep you upright moot; she's so gorgeous that your legs almost give out from underneath you.

Dirty blonde locks cascade over her shoulders in soft waves, half-mussed, half-pristine from your run-in. Her doe eyes are a velvety chocolate color, and you find yourself getting lost in them. Flickers of red show in them, illuminating almost rhythmically the longer she admires you.

Are those contacts? You ask yourself. They have to be.

She seems to be just as affected by your presence as you are of hers.

"Y/N, I'm coming to get you!"

Willow does her best to sound like a villain from a 90s horror film as she clambers her way closer to you, bumping into a few people on the way. You're brought out of your stupor by her rapidly approaching footsteps, and you take a step away from the woman. Her hands fall from your waist, where they had previously been resting.

Stealing a quick look at the bathroom, you feel your stomach turn.

Damnit. Someone's in there now.

Screw this sexy stranger for distracting you. Now you'll have to deal with Willow's wrath.

"What's wrong?"

There's that voice again.

Part of you wants to brush it off and slip away quietly, but an even bigger part of you is determined to stay where you are and tell her. Something about her pulls you in, and you're having a hard time denying it.

"I need to hide. I glitter-fied my friend and now she's coming after me."

The woman's plump lips pull back in a humored smile, and she nods as a chuckle leaves her. "Right," she says, like that's a common occurrence. "I can help, if you'd like."

"How?" You ask, your brows momentarily knitting together in confusion. When she unties and opens the black cloak that's wrapped around her body, your breath catches.

"You in?" She asks, side eyeing the foyer as Willow nearly careens into the Egyptian vase that her mother bought her last year for Christmas.

You take a deep breath and hold your hand out to her just as Willow rounds the corner, and she swiftly pulls you in close before you can be spotted. She winds the cloak around both of your bodies, concealing your faces as the fur-lined hood falls atop your heads.

Unconsciously, you wrap your arms around her waist and pull her flush up against you to further ensure your safety. She quietly grunts when she stumbles over her own feet, falling into you a little.

"Sorry," she whispers, though her third apology of the night is unnecessary. You almost want to thank her for what happened.

Especially when her warm breath fans across your right cheek, where her head is angled.

Every breath you take pushes you closer to each other, and the satin shirt she's wearing slides against your heated skin. She swallows thickly as one of your hands falls to the small of her back, testing the waters.

When she shifts a little to encourage you, you're acutely aware of the thigh that's worked its way between your legs.

When did that happen?

You bite back a sigh as she just smirks, quietly shushing you.

Willow thunders by, shouting your name and threatening to throw you into the pool when she tracks you down. You want to laugh at that, but you'd honestly welcome it right now. Some cold water would surely bring you to your senses after being led astray by this goddess in front of you.

Her footsteps grow distant as she makes her way outside, still searching.

The two of you remain as you are for a couple more minutes until you're certain that the coast is clear, and then you part. When she lowers the cloak, you look away; a deep blush has worked its way up your neck and across your cheeks, and letting her see it would surely make you die of embarrassment.

She keeps her eyes on you as she reties the cover around herself, attempting to get a read on you. The bashful aura that's befallen you is cute, no doubt, but she can sense your arousal. She can smell it on you, and the scent is beginning to drive her crazy.

You fiddle with the sleeves of your costume, readjusting them nervously.

"So, um… thanks," you say, sneaking a glance up at her.

The red hues in her eyes are even more pronounced now, and the sight makes you press further into the wall behind you -- the one that you were previously pushed up against.

"No problem," she smiles, showing off her pearly white teeth. Two of them catch your attention; a set of fangs now shine, looking alluring and threatening all at the same time.

There's only one issue: you're certain that they weren't there when you first bumped into her. When did she put them in? And why do they look so real?

The feeling of her hand landing on your forearm pulls you away from the millions of questions that're firing off in your head right now.

"May I ask your name?" She politely requests, dipping her head down sweetly.

"Y/N," you breathe out, quickly realizing that you'd do just about anything she asked you to.

"Y/N." She repeats, allowing the letters to blend in her mouth as they roll off her tongue. She looks satisfied for some reason as she says it again, trying it out.

"I'm Lisa."

"It's nice to officially meet you," you smile, reaching a hand out. Her touch is gentle but firm as she takes it, shaking it with ease.

"Likewise, beautiful."

The grin on your face only widens at the name, and you pull your hand away out of fear of what she might do next. She's already putting you under her spell, and you're sure that another touch would have you fully entranced.

She studies you with pursed lips for a moment, clearly debating on something. Her eyes flicker over the dips and curves of your body as a smirk grows on her lips.

"What are you thinking?" You question, curious but teasing.

"That I'd love to have your body on mine again."

She's bold, and she says it like the fact it is. No shame, no bashfulness. Just true, honest desire.

You bite the inside of your cheek at her bravery, silently thanking the universe for it. The likelihood of you gaining the courage to make a move is slim to none even in the best cases, and this was no exception. She already has your heart skipping beats and you've only known her a few minutes.

"How about a dance?" She suggests, quirking a brow. The look on her face disarms your defenses, and you take a deep breath before agreeing to your demise.

"That sounds wonderful."

She dips her head again, hiding her face away momentarily, and you think it's the cutest thing ever.

She's shy all of a sudden as her cool demeanor slips up a bit, and that never happens. You might just be her downfall, too.

She holds an elbow out and steps forward, allowing you to link your arm with hers and cuddle in close.

Her eyes scan across the living room as she studies it, but she's unimpressed.

Sweaty, winding bodies thrash around to some upbeat pop song that's been overplayed on every radio station in town for weeks now, and the idea of taking you there puts her off.

When a drunk boy comes into view with a dildo strapped to his forehead, her mind is officially made up.

"Let's go outside," she says, leading you through the patio doors.

A quaint gazebo sits on one side of the yard, and the dance floor that Willow's family installed a couple years ago occupies the other. Both are decorated with string lights in combinations of gold, purple, black, and orange. Other ornaments adorn the surfaces as well, and you smile when you spot a comically large spider sat atop the gazebo's roof.

"Where would you like to go?" Lisa asks, keeping her voice low. It's calm and deep, running a chill through you.

Softer music plays out here, offering a totally different vibe than inside. Some couples -- many of them introverted, assumably -- sway on the dancefloor as the DJ that Willow hired takes a sip of her drink on the raised stage. She adjusts a few switches slowly, not rushing for a second.

"Let's try the gazebo," you decide, glancing over your shoulder at Lisa. She's looking away, but you don't think anything of it as the two of you fall in step with one another on your way over.

Shit, Lisa thinks to herself.

Her plans to come to this party, feed, and make a quick getaway are totally derailed. She'd hoped to find a victim that she was attracted to but didn't like, if that even makes sense, and feed like the animal she is. Then she would leave them like all the rest, drained but still alive, and slip away.

But now she's met you, and any desire for those plans have been thrown out the window.

You interest her, and that doesn't happen often. She hasn't met someone who's been capable of doing that in years, and she's intrigued. Something about you just pulls her in, inexplicably, and she knows her feelings would be glaringly obvious if you saw her face right now.

"Woah, look at this," you sigh, stepping out of her hold to check the place out. A bench runs the perimeter of the gazebo, only stopping at the doorway, and the lights look even prettier from inside. They shimmer, looking like star showers as their strings hang down in the windowless openings of the building.

Lisa quickly learns that she loves seeing you like this. Your eyes are alight, and your sweet smile of wonder warms her heart. Her hands slip into her pockets as she eventually manages to take her eyes off you, following your lead as she admires the decorations.

She does a twirl, looking around.

"It's gorgeous."

"I know, right? This is totally up Willow's alley," you say, grinning at the mental image that you can conjure up of her giddily spiffing the scene up.

"I'll have to thank her for making it look so special, then," Lisa says, smiling. The place really makes you feel like you're in your own little world; everything about it is just right. The ambience, the decor, the company… it’s perfect, and Lisa's content with how the evening is playing out.

Her fingers skate down your arm as she nears you, trekking their way down to your palm. She takes your hand and spins you, watching with admiration as your hair flows in the breeze. Now facing her, you thread your fingers together around the back of her neck as she encircles your waist with her arms.

"Why have I never seen you around?" You ask sincerely, looking up at her.

She hesitates briefly. "My university is a few towns over. I just come here to visit my family every few months."

Not a total lie, she thinks to herself.

"And stop by terrible parties like this, of course." You add, smirking.

She shakes her head at that. "No, I can't say I do. I just decided to check this one out on my way to my friend's house." She explains.

Underneath your cloak, her hands find their way to the small of your back. One stays put while the other dips a little lower, testing the waters.

"And besides," she starts again, feeling you pull her closer. "Meeting you here automatically makes this an awesome party. Not terrible."

"Cheeeesy!" You scrunch your face up and groan, making her laugh.

"Maybe, but it's the truth."

"Sure, Lisa."

She shakes her head and you laugh lightly together, still swaying about. You hold her close enough to rest your head on her shoulder, and the pads of your thumbs rub small circles on the sensitive skin of her neck. She hums at the feeling, and you take note of the way she relaxes in your arms.

The night breeze appears again, performing a flowing dance of its own as it lulls past you in waves. A slight chill resides in it, mixed with a generous amount of the day's sweet, fading heat, and you're at peace.

The slow song that had been playing across the yard ends delicately, parting with some melodic feature that resembles a warm embrace, and it blends seamlessly into the next song.

Turning Page, you recognize it as.

Huh, how ironic. One of your favorites.

Lisa's lips brush against your cheek as she turns her head slightly, whispering, "I like this one, too."

How did she know? You ask yourself. You hadn't said it out loud…

Maybe she's just a good guesser. Yeah, that's gotta be it.

You feel yourself melt as she begins singing the words to you. It's hushed and sentimental -- meant only for your ears to hear, and that makes it even more special to you.

"If I had only felt the warmth within your touch"

She croons, pressing her cheek against your warm skin. You blush, catching yourself when you remember what the next line of the song is.

"If I had only seen how you smile when you blush"

She brings a hand up to cup your cheek in her palm, and her other arm remains around you, holding you tenderly.

"Or how you curl your lip when you concentrate enough"

Now, her thumb runs across your bottom lip. You look into her eyes and find them an even deeper shade of red than they had been before, but it doesn't frighten you for some reason. She glances down at your mouth again, fighting her impatience as she waits for permission from you.

"I would have known what I was living for all along"

You nod and lace your fingers in her locks, and she doesn't waste another second.

She leans in, humming against your lips when they meet hers for the first time. Her lipgloss spreads across them upon contact, smudging its precise application, but she doesn't seem to care in the slightest. She draws you in closer, and you bring both of your hands around to cup her face as you deepen the kiss.

Her mouth is welcoming against yours, and it moves languidly as you get adjusted to one another. Every move makes you feel dizzier than the one before it, and swarms of butterflies take flight in your stomach with no signs of stopping.

She nips at your bottom lip as her hands dip far lower than before, now kneading your ass as your kisses continue to work her up.

"Fuck," you curse, breaking away from her lips to catch your breath. She's stolen it all from you, and yet she's still not ready to give you a rest; her mouth drops to your jaw, embracing your skin there before moving down to your neck.

She doesn't realize how dangerous the game she's playing truly is until it's almost too late.

Her lips press to the area just above your pulsepoint, where she's learned over the years that blood pumps the hardest and tastes the sweetest. She draws it into her mouth, swirling her tongue over the area as her ears perk up at the breathless sound of your moans. They spur her on, and she nips at the skin, surely leaving a hickey.

Her senses become even more clouded when you say her name, the title caught somewhere between a whine and command, and she feels the strong impulse to claim you. The sensation is overwhelming, and she knows you can feel it too.

Your hands tug on the collar of her shirt as she lets her fangs fully extend, no longer suppressing them. They rake across your pulsepoint, making you shiver against her.

"Please…"

That's all you manage to get out before they pierce your skin, eliciting a whimper from you. Blood fills her mouth instantly, sliding across her taste buds in velvety waves and calming her constant craving. Your hands tighten in her hair, and the delicious twinge of pain that it provides only encourages her more.

Your blood is different than anything she's ever tasted; it's richer -- sweeter. A throaty groan leaves her as she savors it, and you shut your eyes in pleasure. It's addicting, but she knows she has to stop herself before she hurts you. If she continues like this much longer, she won't have the willpower to let go.

She retracts her fangs as she licks your taste from them, and then you feel her warm tongue clean the wound she made. It stings a bit, but in all the right ways.

When she pulls back to look at you, she finds your eyes half-lidded and a pleased smile on your face. It nearly kills her, then and there.

Her gaze flickers back to your neck to admire the hickie she made earlier, but what she sees surprises her. Below it is a darker, more prominent marking that she's only seen other vampires leave behind before.

Definitely not a hickie.

Your brows furrow as you look at her neck as well, noticing a faint outline of something growing darker by the second. Blinking a few times to ensure that you aren't hallucinating, you find that it's really there.

"Lisa, what's on your neck?" You ask.

"A soulmate mark." She responds, feeling a sense of belonging settle over her as she looks at you again. You just confirmed her suspicions by asking that.

"Same as yours," she smiles.

316 notes · View notes

zodiacrant · 3 years

Text

🍩My experiences with each Moon sign🍩

(Cause yall are messy)

I have done this a few times before but for Sun signs and did rank placements but never shared my thoughts and experiences with the Moon signs.

Now I know how this goes, so if you get mad or sad then go off I guess. Aint the first time I get cursed out or attacked in this bitch. Plus, I am a Cap moon so naturally I won’t do well with some Moons and I will be nitpicking everything about everyone.

🍩Aries Moon🍩

My dad’s moon. Yup, that tells you alot without me even starting. Having our Moons in Square shit was hard to say the least. It took a long time for us to be on middle grounds and because I don’t feel comfortable talking about my problems here I will continue on. The Aries Moon that I really like and can think of is Rihanna, so I would say it’s unfair to make a whole judgment but from what I saw and heard they’re not exactly the best to be around. So I give them a 3/10 for being bold and having nerve.

🍩Taurus Moon🍩

Now this Moon right here I know people from ( a close friend and my sister, plus some others) and I don’t have many strong opinions about it. As a Taurus Sun, it can be a challenge to work with a Taurus Moon. I am stubborn at my core and they’re stubborn with their heart, so everytime we disagree it’s like a rope pulling contest. Way too stagnant for me but I think that’s because of my other placements and they don’t take any advice or open up no matter what. On to the good, I never disliked someone with this placement. No matter how much of an asshole they can be, to me it is difficult to hate them or stay mad at them. They’re warm, kind, and sweet but a bit aloof and naive, also they don’t like to touch and hug as some people might think. I will give them a 8/10

🍩Gemini Moon🍩

(⚠️TW⚠️ mention of rape and erratic behavior)

I only had one best friend with this placement and I don’t I want to meet any more, and I am at peace with that if they resemble her in any way. She was a maniac. She loved to lie, create drama, blow shit up, act crazy and basically be shocking. I do find similarities with Gemini Sun where they do shit for reactions but with her, she will take it to the next level. Lie about being raped, act possessed, or pretend that she is being followed. It’s not fair to associate her with people who share the same Moon as her but that was y’all’s representation in my life. She was erratic so it’s difficult to see where her Moon was in effect and where she was just off. I’ll give them a 1/10, would not recommend until proven otherwise.

🍩Cancer Moon🍩

The first that comes to my mind is Taylor Swift and to me she is the ultimate Cancer Moon. It juat makes sense how fast she takes it to the next level with people. Whether getting serious quickly with someone or throwing down and feuding. She just always at a 100. Personally, I never got close with someone who has this placement, maybe it’s because I am a Capricorn Moon myself, but I would say the ones that I have met were nice. I’ll give them a 5/10

🍩Leo Moon🍩

I only had one best friend with this placement but the people I have met with this Moon I still remember. They all had one thing in common and that was being emotionally traumatized and have lost one parent. My best friend was super loyal, very confident in what they believed in and represented, were always there for me and had an amazing ability in motivating others. But they were also super prideful and there’s no coming back with them. Fight once and it’s over. (Yes I am looking at you Jonnie). One of the other people was with me in uni and always had the to urge won up me and my friend. He had scars all over and he doesn’t remember how he got them. But he was super proud of himself and his home country, which I respect and admire. I’ll give them a 6/10

🍩Virgo Moon🍩

I know two people with this placement, my mom and a professor at uni, and oh boy it makes sense that they’re a Virgo Moon. Me and my mom are too alike that we clash strongly at times. She thinks she can do it better and I think I can do it better and we just have like a competition on who done it better basically. From cooking, to how you light the stove, to how you put on clothes, to how you lay down on bed. Both my mom and my professor are super critical and precise, althogh my professor is a double Virgo (Sun and Moon) so she will go even further. They have to do everything as it arises and act like there’s no time and everything is about to go wrong. Like damn sis chill the fuck out for a sec and this is coming from a Cap moon so you know it’s bad. But I really like Virgo Moon, even though people might hate such a personality but I can relate to them in some ways. I’ll give them 7/10

🍩Libra Moon🍩

My only online friend that I talk to all the time got this Moon. Other than her I met only two people and they were something. Okay so for my friend, because I never actually have seen her physically with my own eyes I can’t say how she acts all the time, but she is one of the best listeners I had in my life. She likes to hear me ramble for an hour about a dumb encounter that lasted a second, talking about astrology and some nerdy things and then not so nerdy things. I believe that it’s a Libra Moon quality to be emotionally versatile and attentive. I think because she is a Leo dominant she acts much fiery and fiercely than a Libra would. As for the other people I just thought they were fake. One acted as a friend but then would just disappear so I was over it quickly and the other was super passive and pretentious that I think she shits out plastic. All in all I think it’s a great Moon. I’ll give them a 7/10

🍩Scorpio Moon🍩

One of the hardest Moons I ever delt with but I find that I love them too. My oldest sister had this Moon and she is such a mystery. Because I am a Taurus Sun, it is only natural for me to have a hard time with a Scorpio Moon. Even though she is an extrovert, she rarely talks about herself and her feelings, you will never catch her slipping or show vulnerability. I can see how difficult it may be for her being a Cancer with a Scorpio Moon and have Gemini dominance. But she’s a bitch at heart and I am cool with it. I’ll give them 5/10 cause I am not a big fan of paradoxical people

🍩Sagittarius Moon🍩

A moon that I always babysat. I had two best friends with this Moon and if I was born a second earlier, it would mine too. I don’t know if it’s because of my Gemini Venus or my 0 degree Capricorn Moon but I love Sagittarius Moons. I was fortunate to see some of their weaknesses and for them to trust me enough to be vulnerable. But boy do they get themselves into the dumbest situation because they wanted to see what would happen. I had to babysit them and help them do everything like shopping, cooking, cleaning, assembling furniture, be their body guard when buying weed. (Shhhh it’s a secret). They’re in many ways immature cause they run from things and everytime you try to be real with them, they say “stop being negative”. I’ll give them a 9/10

🍩Capricorn Moon🍩

The grande dame of the Moon signs, sitting at it’s opposite planet. I have met many Cap Moons and honestly we are bitches 😂. The energy of sitting next to a Capricorn Moon is too fucking much like I never knew it’s like that. I noticed the way they stare, talk, walk and sit can be so aggressive and intimidating. I see why people might label us as bullies, cause the energy is definitely there and I myself was such a cunt (still a little but I am more aware of myself now) that I get where both are coming from. Life as a Capricorn Moon is emotionally flat. If wasn’t for my other placements you will never see me even flinch. I think we just take everything and let it process in our head before we let it into our hearts. So to me, we’re not mean, we just don’t see how something might be hurtful. But also that tone and that blank face, goddam! That’s why I try to smile cause bitch no, I didn’t know I was walking with a death stare this whole time. Anyways, I will give us 10/10 cause I am self appreciative like that 😂✌️

🍩Aquarius Moon🍩

I have always tried to understand Aquarius Moon and it was only a month ago that I have realized they themselves are not sure of who they’re. I had one best friend with this placement and three cousins (all siblings). First, my cousins are super competitive with each other on who gets to do what and if it happens that they’re similar in something they will get pissed. The person that was my best friend was like that as well. Only he would drop a an entire hobby, interest, something close to his heart, shit even a personality trait. I find them to be constantly changing and trying, so they shift between one end of extreme to the other until they center themselves. I’ll give them a 4/10

🍩Pisces Moon🍩

Now let’s talk about a depressing placement, in my opinion of course 😅. I don’t know if it’s the influence of Neptune on the Moon or is it the just the demeanor of Pisces, but good god girl get a grip (they call this the five G’s). My youngest sister is a Pisces Moon, and as creative as she is, she is pessimistic and overly cynical. I mean I am all for being critical and real but looking at everything with jacked up black sprayed glasses is just too much for me. Other than my sister I don’t know any Pisces Moon very well but I had a few acquaintances. I noticed that they talked about a specific thing and that’s it. I have found them to be amazing at drawing, painting and have an incredible artistic sense. At times twisted and dark, but I love the art that comes with it. I’ll give them a 5/10

Here’s the tea. It’s Pisces season so remember I am sensitive right now, and also it’s my life and I wish I met someone as amazing as you might think you’re. (Maybe that was a little too aggressive)

Okay love you ❤️

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ramp-it-up · 3 years

Text

Everyday

Pairing: Rafael Casal x Reader, Rafael Casal (as Miles Turner) x Reader

Warnings: MINORS DNI, 18 + , RPF. CURATE YOUR OWN EXPERIENCE. YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE IF YOU READ BELOW THE CUT. Cursing, drinking, allusion to smoking weed, fantasy, truth or dare, role play, SMUT, Graphic Depictions of Sex, oral sex (M/F receiving), a lil bit of bondage, established relationship, fantasy play.

A/N: I have no idea what is for trade in prison; sex packets are a made up joke. And I’m really into 90’s rap this week. Anywho, this fic is in response to the following request:

Anonymous asked:

Rafa!!!!! Maybe a fluffy smut where he’s role playing Miles for you? 👀

-------

“Ok, Dare.”

You steeled yourself from the query from Daveed.

“Which fictional character, real or animated, would you like to bone?”

Everyone burst out laughing.

“Real or ANIMATED????”

You were cracking up laughing and buzzed, feeling good surrounded by your crew of friends who were family.

“Ok, I will answer both.”

Rafa cleared his throat and settled back on the couch beside you.

You sat up straight and he watched the curve of your breasts underneath the Oaklandish tee you stole from him that morning.

“Rafael is getting swole! Don’t worry Rafa. She will still come home to your everyday ass.”

“Shut up, Ant. You always got something to say.” You rolled your eyes. “Everyday with Rafa is amazing.”

You leaned over and kissed Rafa’s lips, which were in a slight frown. He didn’t like that word, ‘everyday.’

“You good?” You whispered so only you two could hear.

He smiled at you, “No doubt. Answer the man’s question!” Rafa said a little louder, bravado on fleek.

“ANYWAYYY.” You shook your head at him as you straightened up. “Max could get it.”

“Max who?” Jasmine was confused. Then she realized, then leaned over Ant and Rafa to give you a high five.

“Max Who???” Daveed was curious.

“Goofy’s son. Max.”

Everyone erupted in laughter again. Daveed got up and took the bottle out of your hand.

“Enough of this.”

You battled him, jumping up and swatting around D’s head. You won your drink back and sat down.

“As far as ‘real’ fictional characters…” You took a drink. And smiled. All eyes were on you.

“Miles Turner could rearrange my guts.”

Anthony groaned. Rafa sat up straight. You took another drink .

“For Real. Ruffnecks kinda do it for me.”

“Gotta who? Gotta have a what?” Jazzy started rapping. You replied.

“Gotta what? Yo, gotta get a ruffneck.”

You two started dancing, rapping and singing with your drinks in your hands.

Gotta what? Yo, gotta get a ruffneck

I need it and I want it so I gotta get a ruffneck!

Rafael pulled you down to sit on his lap and Jasmine kept dancing, right in front of Anthony.

Anthony sucked his teeth, but was smiling at Jazzy’s ass.

“That’s cheating. I mean. That’s just Rafa. I mean, he bones you on the regular.”

Ant smacked Jasmine on the bottom and took a drink before she plopped down next to him and he put his arm around her.

“You know it!” Rafa and Anthony toasted.

“But I ain’t Miles.”

Rafa took another sip of his Abasolo on the rocks.

“And it’s just a fantasy. Right baby.”

Rafael rubbed your back giving you a look that made you tremble. Rafa felt your warmth on his lap. He grinned into his drink.

“Trueeee!”

You smiled, trying to keep it light and calm the fuck down. Everyone always made fun of you two smashing in people’s bathrooms.

“You aren’t Miles. I didn’t know you when you were younger....”

You locked eyes with Rafael, and the green fire there did something to you.

“I think Rafa is Miles’s wasted potential.”

“Wow. That’s deep,” said Ant from a cloud of smoke.

You and Rafa were locked in an eye embrace as well as a physical one. When he arched his eyebrow, you had to look away, because you couldn’t take it.

“Y’all need to use my bathroom?” More laughter.

You and Rafa both flipped Daveed off.

“Nah, Diggs.” Rafa stood up with you in his arms. “We’ll use our own. We out.”

Your man carried you willingly out of the door.

-----

About two weeks later, you came home with some groceries, you were looking forward to a night in with Rafa.

You’d both been busy and tired lately, only available for maintenance sex.

Rafa was running around creating all of his creative shit, and you worked in the writers room of a popular series. Life was hectic.

He was sitting at the kitchen table, hands together on top.

He was wearing blue scrubs over a white Henley and had his face turned to the side, staring out the window. You noticed that his hair was different.

“Hey, babe. Did you get a haircut? What’s wrong?”

He turned his face toward you and that’s when you noticed two more things. Rafael’s eye was black, and there was a tattoo on his neck.

THAT California tattoo.

You were very concerned and a little confused. Concern came first in your mind.

“What happened to your eye?” He gave you a strange look, then he spoke.

“A mutha fucka sneaked me in the yard, that’s what happened!”

You stood still and had to register what was happening.

Rafa was wearing a grill, and his voice was different, in a lower register and with a long drawn out, almost southern drawl.

But it wasn’t southern. It was all Bay.

He stood up and walked toward you, and you noticed that his scrubs had “Prisoner” written in yellow letters down the right leg.

You suddenly realized what was going on.

Oh, Shit.

“Baby. You’re a sight for sore eyes. It’s been a minute.”

You’d left Rafael in bed this morning. But it seemed that you came home to Miles.

“Hey,” was all you could say.

Rafael/Miles gestured for you to come over to the table. It was then you saw that he was handcuffed.

A strange feeling came over to you. He stood up, and you saw that his legs were shackled. You went close to him and looked at his eye closely.

“Rafa?”

His face was fine, up close, you could tell it was makeup.

“You been to see Galaxy today?”

You were peering at his neck and the Bay/California tattoo there.

He screwed up his face.

“Who tha fuck is Rafa? And what the hell you talking ‘bout space for?”

He peered into your eyes, then looked around furtively.

“Babe. Are you high?”

The drawl was a whisper now.

“These muthafuckas’ll kick you out if they think you got drugs on you.”

You smiled at him, pecked him on the lips and replied.

“No worries. I’m not high.” You sat down at the kitchen table and ‘Miles’ sat across from you.

“As for Rafa? He’s this guy I know. Had a nice… conversation with him the other night.”

You looked into his eyes to see if he would crack. But your man was a pro.

He huffed. “Psshhht. You MUST be high talking to another dude. What kinda name is Rafa anyway. Sounds like some hipster trash.”

He peered at you again, anger radiating off of him.

Damn, he was good.

“Tell me what the fuck you mentioning some other muthafucka to my face while I’m locked up in here! Every day.”

He pounded his bound fists on the table in front of you and made you jump. It also made you wet as fuck.

He gestured with both hands (because they were handcuffed) to the nice kitchen that you loved to cook in, but that you were now seeing through his performance as a prison visitation room.

But you were still shook.

“R, R, Rafael is a beautiful artist. He’s a poet. He’s gentle, and kind. And a wonderful lover.”

Miles glared at you. You stuttered again.

“I-I imagine.”

He gave you a menacing smile and leaned back in the chair, pushing his crotch up in your direction. Your eyes were drawn there.

“So you imagining fucking another muthafucka and decide to come visit me and tell me about it?”

You got into it.

“Well….I miss you Miles. But it gets hard. Not being able to be with you.”

He leaned forward, bearing his teeth.

“Don’t fucking tell me about it. Here I am jacking off with leftover chicken grease from the kitchen at night. Got my dick smelling like a Popeye’s chicken sandwich in this bitch.”

“Ew,” you said, disgusted, then you started giggling at the joke.

Miles pouted and sat back.

“ ‘S not fucking funny!” He looked out the window again.

“I shouldn’t even tell you about the surprise.”

You straightened up. “What is it babe?”

You put your hand on his and he caressed yours with his thumb. He looked at you, excited and mischievous now.

“I got us a conjugal visit.”

Your mouth dropped open, fully into it now.

“But I thought that was just for married couples, Miles…”

“I know, I know.” He leaned forward and looked around again. “But I got me a side hustle.”

He shifted his eyes as he scanned the empty room.

“I make sex packets outta the leftover chicken grease from my job in the kitchen. Make a KILLING in oatmeal cream pies, ramen noodles, cigarettes and other tradeable currency. I made enough to buy us a conjugal visit, girl.”

He leaned back, very satisfied with himself, his hands now on his lap, rubbing his crotch.

Your eyes were drawn there again and you found yourself irrationally wondering how big his dick was. He had you caught up in this fantasy.

“Let’s go to the trailer and I’ll make you forget all about this Raja guy.” Miles winked at you.

“It’s…” You saw the look on his face. “Nevermind. Let’s go.”

He stood up again, and shuffled his way to the bathroom, you at a safe distance behind him.

He entered the bedroom and shuffled to the bed, sitting down on the edge. He gestured you to him and you went and stood before him.

He put his nose in your crotch.

“MMMmmmmm. I missed your smell Baby. It’s been too long. He lifted his hands and put them on the insides of your thighs. He pulled back and looked at you, green eyes staring into brown.

“The guards left the key over there. That is, if you wanna get me out of these.” He nodded toward the

He trailed his hands up to your pelvis, managing to hook one set of fingers into your waistband and still have another at your apex.

He ran his fingers over your jeans right where it counts. This kind of petting felt good and made you want more.

You let him play for a little while, but then pushed him back to sit and watch you.

You peeled down your jeans to reveal a white satin thong. Rafael loved white against your coffee brown skin, but tonight, Miles would benefit. You stood there in your button-down shirt, that was really Rafael’s.

Miles’s hands went to his crotch again as he eagerly watched.

“You seem to be doing pretty well all hemmed up, but let me see.”

You went to the dresser to retrieve the key, and you did, then turned around and put it in your mouth while you slowly unbuttoned the shirt.

Miles leaned back on the bed and opened his legs as far as the shackles would let them go, licking his lips as you disrobed.

You were wearing a white lace bra, your dark nipples and areola straining through the delicate material. You were very excited at the entire scenario.

The fact that Rafa was doing this for you because he remembered what you said on a drunken night weeks ago was the shit.

You dropped to the ground and crawled over to Miles’s feet jutting your ass up in the air as you unlocked the shackles.

You massaged his ankles and trailed your hands up his legs to his crotch, where you rubbed the hardness there.

“It’s been so long that you’ve been locked up, Miles.”

You raised up on your knees, loving the feeling of his eyes sweeping over you.

“I’m gonna give you the world’s best blowjob.”

Miles smiled at you.

“Aw, baby. That’s so cute.”

“I’ll show you cute.”

You were about to give your own performance.

------

Five minutes later, you were gargling his cock, relaxing your throat and taking him as deep as you could, nose nestled at his base, and gently pulling and kneading his balls.

Someone moaned, and you didn’t know if it was Rafa or Miles. He bucked his hips up into your mouth while resting his cuffed hands in your hair.

“As much as I would love to … fuck baby… cum down your throat.. I need that… damn where’d you learn to do that?!... I need that pussy. Unlock the cuffs, baby.”

His cuffed hands were in your hair, alternating between massaging your scalp and pulling your hair the way you loved it.

The way Rafael invented.

You smiled around his cock with the knowledge that what you were doing was making him slip out of character.

You pulled your head upward, mouth open, allowing the saliva to trickle out with his dick.

He looked at you like he couldn’t believe how nasty you were being. He was mesmerized. You looked a mess, eye makeup running, lipstick smudged, spit all over your face.

Your dream man loved it.

“Am I ‘cute’ now?”

“Fuck no. You’re so goddamn beautiful.”

You smiled and quickly reached behind you and unclasped your bra, taking your breasts in your hands and pushed them up around his dick.

“See, if you unlock these cuffs, I’ll handle things the way they need to be handled.”

You just smiled up at him while you manipulated your breasts around him, knowing that he could not control his hips fucking into your cleavage.

“I got it under control.” You stuck your tongue out to tease his tip as it neared your face, lubricating it with your saliva.

“Fuck, baby. I wanna fuck you so bad. It’s been so long…”

This entire scene was just about the hottest thing ever. You were breathless, dripping, and quivering with anticipation. But you didn’t want it to end so soon.

“How long ‘xactly?”

“Shit, 5 months of being here and jacking off to memories of you everyday. I need to see that ass and fuck that pussy, babyyyy. Please.”

Those eyes.

Those words.

The acting.

Miles.

You had to relent.

You reached for the key where you dropped it on the floor and unlocked the cuffs.

“Fucking finally!” Miles rubbed his wrists as he stood up, stripped his shirts off and his pants the rest of the way.

“On the bed, let me see that ass up.”

He smacked it about three times each and then rubbed it as you did as you were told.

Miles trailed his hand from your ass up your spine to your shoulder and then pushed your head down further into the bed.

“That’s a girl.” Your back had that perfect arch.

He got behind you and swiped his hardness up and down your slit, teasing you with the head of his dick.

He grabbed your hand and brought behind your back, and very swiftly the other, and before you knew it, your hands were cuffed behind you, head in the bed and Miles was entering you swiftly.

“Fuuuuck! How does it feel?”

You couldn’t speak. The thrill of Miles’ dick inside you and being cuffed had you ready to cum already.

His stroke game was on point, as if he was fucking you to a brand new rhythm- Allegro.

Strangely, it was different than Rafa had ever been.

That was blowing your mind.

Miles tugged on the metal restraints and the slight pain in your shoulders and wrists, combined with the thrill of this roleplay, made you release, all over him and the bed.

“Shit girl, you really are glad to see me.” That drawl got you ready to peak again.

“Oh fuck yeah, Miles, oh shit, oh shit.” Your pussy was clamping down on him at the thought of Miles Turner having his way with you.

“Shit, I’m cumming with you, hold up.”

Rafa tried to slow down, but you did that thing with your pussy and he couldn’t help it. His hips drove his dick inside you until it pulsed and started to flow, and then he pulled out.

“Turn over baby.”

You leisurely moved to turn over, and he motioned you down to the end of the bed, moving the pillow where he wanted your head.

“I need in between those legs, baby. I need to see you, I need to surround me with you.”

You positioned yourself at the end of the bed, your braids hanging over the edge.

Miles gave you a forehead kiss as he got between your thighs, and pumped himself a couple of times as he aligned with you.

He leaned down and pulled at your nipple with his mouth, moaning when you moaned, moving his eyes appreciatively down your body and keeping his eyes where you were about to join.

The look on his face when he entered you was very hot, and you found your pussy squeezing his cock in appreciation. It seemed magically somehow bigger, and all of your senses were alive as he started moving.

“That’s my beautiful baby. You’re so fucking tight. Don’t push me out, let me have the glorious pussy. Damn girl, this pussy, those thighs, your curves, these tits. What did a man like me do to deserve you. You’re such a fucking sweet princess for me…”

You were astounded. Missionary was far from your favorite position because you seldom came that way, but the way Miles was whispering praise in your ear and the total fantasy was getting you there.

Quickly.

He watched your face and adjusted his pace in response to your cries, and that knowledge made you start to come. When your eyes rolled back in your head, that’s when he knew.

He pulled your hair back and sucked the shit out of your neck as you came, and he released inside you. You wrapped your legs around him and held him as he shivered with the aftershocks of his orgasm.

Your lover rolled off of you and you snuggled into his arm. He lay there and held you as you tried to process.

“That was… wow.” You weren’t sure who to address, Rafa or Miles. Irrationally you felt you were in love with both.

He just chuckled at you, and gave you another forehead kiss.

“I’m going to enjoy a shower. Goodbye for a while, baby.”

You grinned. “Bye Miles.”

He pecked you on the lips and you watched him go into the bathroom.

You rolled over on your back and tried to organize your thoughts. How would you write this?

Thoughts of writing this scene chased you into sleep.

---

You woke up to Rafael, grill and tattoos gone, freshly out of the shower and in a towel, gently trying to pull you from sleep.

“C’mon.”

You let him get you up and into the bathroom to a hot bath. You let him tenderly clean you up and then get you out of the tub and dry you off. You were more tired than you thought.

“You hungry?” You walked into the kitchen in a towel behind him.

Rafa had put the groceries up and was holding up takeout menus. He was truly magical. You smiled, nodded and told him what you wanted.

45 minutes later, you were in his softest Oaklandish tee and you were curled up on the couch in the living room together, food containers spead out on the coffee table.

You felt totally in sync with this amazing man.

“I loved tonight.”

He smiled softly back at you.

“Had to give you your fantasy since you help me live mine. Every day.”

He leaned over and kissed you. He looked you intensely in the eyes. Those green pools had you trapped.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Rafael.”

Your fantasy had been Miles, but your reality was Rafael.

And that was fantastic.

Everyday.

-------

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