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Fake it 'till you make it | Part 5
Eddie was almost half certain that he was either hallucinating, or still asleep and dreaming the whole thing. But Steve Harrington was in his living room, perusing the mug collection as if it were fine art or some shit, and he wasnât there to buy drugs. The van had gotten uncomfortable pretty quickly after Eddieâs tragic realisation, and while his Uncle was definitely there, and giving Eddie a very obvious what the fuck Edâs âlookâ while he made them both coffee, Steve seemed pretty at ease in the place.
He didnât look like he belonged in any way shape or form, with his mega-bucks hairstyle, the polo that probably cost more than Eddie was making per day on those dates, and the jeans that probablyâokay he needed to stop pricing up what Steve was wearing.
Needed to stop making assumptions about him.
âYou take sugar, kid?â
âUhâyes! Yeah, uh, cream two sugars, please. Thank you.â If Steve noticed the surprise on Wayneâs face at the presence of manners well⊠he didnât seem offended by it. in fact he was still pretty amazed by the mug collection. âWhereâd you get all these?â
âSpent a few yearsâa my life as a long haul trucker before Edâs landed on my doorstep back in the day, the road ainât no place for a kid so I packed it in, but thereâs always lil knick knacks in pit stops along the way, had people say theyâd probably be worth somethin someday, bitâa history an all that, but⊠that ainât why I have em. Each one has a memory attached to it, makes somethin as mundane as a mug, precious.â Memories, the walls were littered with memories.
Such a small space packed with so much. So many little bits and bobs, clutter that told stories, personalities told by clutter.
Steve loved it. He found it⊠comforting.
Eddie couldnât stop the foot he so ungracefully stuck into his mouth however with the quip âmust seem messy to you, huh?â That wiped the smile right from Steveâs perfect face. Replaced it with a little frown of confusion.
âHm? No⊠no, not at all, what? What makes you think that?â
âWell, Iâve seen your house dude, itâs looks straight out of a showroom or somethin.â Couldnât take the foot out of the mouth now, best just chew on it until his uncle whacked him round the back of the head with a newspaper, hissing,
âManners donât cost nothin boy, I raised you better than to be a little shit to guests. The hellâs your problem?â
âI honestly have no idea.â Eddie didnât even complain about the whack, it didnât hurt, but it did dislodge the foot from his mouth, allowing him to level Steve and his confused face an apology âsorry man, Iâm justâŠâ
âDefensive?â
âMmhmâ
âSâfine, I get it.â And wasnât that just fucking heartbreaking. Especially since he smiled so sweetly when Wayne gave him his own little steaming mug, it had mickey mouse on it. âFor the record though, I like it. The collection I mean⊠I think Iâd like something like this in my own house someday, just⊠memories everywhere⊠neither of my parents are big on collections, I think the only ones they have are my momâs vinylâs and my dadâs wine.â
âYour mom has vinylâs?â The wine collection was predictable but vinylâs?
âMm, up in the attic, Iâll show you sometime.â He had a player in the sun room, could probably bring a few boxes down and let Eddie rifle through them someday, maybe even convince his mom to bring some of them with them to the chalet, Eddie might get a kick out of at least a few of the records in there. âIf you still wanna be seen with me after all thisâ an if she wouldnât take them, best get the idea that they could still be friends after it all out in the open!
Eddie wasnât bad, and Dustin adored him, constantly trying to get him to give Eddie a chance, sneaky little shit setting this up, probably had ulterior motives, so⊠why not?
Eddie didnât get a chance to answer though, although his mouth was open ready to speak, Wayne beat him to it. âNow, itâs noneâa my business but⊠what do you mean by all this?â Leaving Steve awkwardly sipping his coffee, looking at Eddie over the rim of his cup in question. Was it okay? Would it be okay to talk about it?
âAs much as Iâd love to say, âSteveâs invited me somewhere for a week!â and have that be totally believable and not cause you a stress aneurysm⊠Wayneâs cool, Steve, you good with me talking about it?â There was obvious hesitation, more strangers who knew the riskier it could be for him, butâ he nodded. Heâd trust Wayne, as insane as that was, he didnât even know Wayne, but⊠the man gave off a weird kind of trustworthy energy. And Eddie vouched for him so, âYou know how I do that whole⊠date thing to freak parents out for girls? Stevie here needs my services.â
âYou aint plannin on doin what I think youâre doin, are you boy? Are you out of your damn mind? Do you know how dangerââ
âItâs okay!â Steve blurted cutting off the expected worry rant âitâs safe, I promise, my parents are⊠well⊠they might seem really detached from reality butâyou donât know them. I recently realised that neither do I⊠heâs not⊠gonna be freaking them out either, heâs just⊠playing a part to get them off my back for a while⊠Iâm uh⊠Iâmââ he looked at Eddie, briefly but long enough to catch the little nod of encouragement. It was okay. It was safe. So far things had been fine for him coming out, so far heâd been okay, thereâd been no danger, and maybe doing it so many times had made it easier or something because it just⊠came out âIâm bisexual, they know, and have been throwing both women, and men at me trying to get me to finally settle down with someone and⊠while I agree, thatâd be nice⊠I would love to do that, iâm not jazzed about the quality of the people theyâre throwing at me.â
ââŠYour parents. The Harringtons, rich folk. Those folks⊠theyâre safe?â
âApparently, my dadâs even restructuring his company values to include people like me, trying to make it a safer place for us, and this was before I told them.â Something heâd had no idea about, something that he couldnât believe, hence why he kept bringing it up, it was insane to him, how little he actually knew his parents, how wrong heâd been about them.
How wrong everyone had been about them.
âHis parents are takin him to this chalet in Canada next week, Steve thinks theyâre gonna ambush him with some random person that heâll have to spend a whole week avoiding, so⊠heâs hiring me to act as his boyfriend. That cool with you, Wayne?â He didnât have to ask. Eddie was a grown adult, he could do whatever he wanted, go wherever he wanted, but⊠Wayne deserved to know.
â⊠Can I meet em before you go?â
âOf course!â
âNot a chance.â
The worst part was, they both spoke at once. And Steveâs very positive answer, happened to be louder.
Part 7
#PirateWrites#FakeItTillYouMakeItFiclet#Steddie#No Upside Down AU#Waaaaaaayne#i love wayne#Wayne deserves the world
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WIP Wednesday
In the mood for relatively plotless softness rn, so Iâm playing around with the idea of adding a third and probably final chapter to Revival (link below).
It would have been an hour or two past midnight when Mobius shuffled out of his room, squinting in the darkness to locate the refrigerating unit, and retrieving from it a small bottle of chilled water. As he let the door swing closed and turned around, the last shaft of light from the fridge briefly illuminated a shadowy figure standing by the back door of the chalet. Still able to just barely make out the silhouette against the glass panel, Mobius placed the bottle on the counter, which he then stepped around carefully in the absence of visibility, socked feet padding quietly on the floorboards as he cautiously approached.
âLoki?â he used his softest voice, wary of startling him despite all the noise heâd already made.
âMm?â
Apparently he neednât have worried. Loki was clearly deeply preoccupied, but not quite enough to be completely oblivious.
âWhy are you up, kjĂŠre?â Mobius asked gently, âYou should be sleeping.â
He felt his face colour slightly at his little slip, but Loki had called him that twice now over the past couple of days, and heâd been decidedly keen to return the endearment. Sleep-muddled and enshrouded in the tranquil peace of night, a pensive Loki gazing out at the moonlit water of the bay as it gleamed and rippled entrancingly⊠he supposed it was as good a time as any, even if it had been unintentional.
Tagging @kcscribbler , @lokimobius , @in-my-loki-feels , @loki-is-my-kink-awakening , @silentxsymphony , @thosegayoldmen , @mirilyawrites , @impulsemuppet
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RTA, speaking of pro-Sussex KK and fam, thereâs something fishy imo about the Delaware-incorporated name of MMâs new ARO venture: Mama Knows Best. Whose âMamaâ are we talking about, anyway? Mama Doria? Mummy Diana? Mama Momager Kris Jenner? Mama Megs herself? All of the above? There are just too many suspicious PR crossovers between the Sussexes and the Kardashians lately. Doria, Kris, Kim hanging out a few months ago and getting photo-opped together. MM appearing Kardashian-adjacent at Beyonceâs concerts. Harry going skiing with Krisâ SO. Harry allegedly zooming his Diana Awards appearance from a ski chalet on said ski trip. Kim snarking that sheâs âOff to find Kate.â The rumors of the Sussexes guest appearing on the Kardashiansâ new (struggling) show. Is it possible, do you think, that Mama/Momager Kris is Meghanâs (and maybe Hâs as well) new business manager and/or business advisor?
**********
The Kardashians have been trying to get in with the royal family for awhile. Back in 2011 - 2014ish, Kim kept trying to make friends with Kate. Everything from creating and posting âHappy birthday Kateâ video messages on social media, giving interviews about how much she loves Kateâs style, naming products after Kate, sending Kate gifts (which KP always returned unopened), matchmaking Prince George and North West together (hereâs an example), and paying for a lot of PR on the one time Kate wore the same dress Kim did in 2012 and again in 2015 when Kate rewore it.
As far as we know, Kate never reciprocated or acknowledged Kim Kardashianâs efforts. And for all intent and purpose, Kim gave up on trying to make fetch happen with the royal family. But then Meghan came around, whoâs much more Kardashian-like than Middleton-like or Windsor-like that made Kimâs royal aspirations more of a reality.
One of the things Iâve noticed about the Kardashians - Kim more particularly than the rest of them - is that theyâre always looking for the next thing that will further legitimize their fame and further solidify their status as ârealâ A-listers instead of grifters that know how to hustle (remember, the family is only famous because they monetized Kimâs sex tape). Up until Kim married Kanye, no one really took them seriously; they were reality TV stars and WAGs. And thereâs nothing wrong with that. But theyâve always wanted more and theyâve always used other people to climb up the fame ladder, legitimize their fame, and develop business opportunities.
Which is what Meghan (and Harry) are. Theyâre a business opportunity for the Kardashians, whoâve been slowly pivoting to more âbehind the scenesâ producer-type work than âon-cameraâ talent. They probably see Meghan as an opportunity to do more directing/producing/developing but the joke will probably be on them - theyâre too business-savvy (individually and collectively) for Meghan. Meghan thinks sheâs business-savvy like they are but she doesnât come anywhere close. The primary difference between the Kardashians and Meghan is that they have follow-through, and she does not.
I donât see the partnership lasting very long. Kris only works with people she knows and people whoâll listen to her/do what she wants. The way I see it, the Sussexes have been lovebombing the Kardashians to become family friends so that Kris will work with them. But that still leaves the âlisten to/do what other people sayâ problem, which is probably going to be Meghanâs downfall. She thinks sheâs the expert in everything, which will 100% cause problems with Kris.
And then thereâs the WME of it. The Kardashians are WME clients (just like Meghan...hey, how about that?!). WME helped Kim get a role in the American Horror Story franchise. The Kardashians could also be friendly with the Sussexes because WME is making it worth their while.
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It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas - JTK
Synopsis:Â A cozy winter night at home with Jake, baking and listening to music, and a small competition when the gingerbread is ready!
WC: 3337
Warnings: None! Just fun fluff!
A/N:Â We are back with some sickening sweet Christmas and holiday cheer with our favorite guys!!
Joshâs Holiday Fic // Samâs Holiday Fic // Dannyâs Holiday Fic
The sweet and spicy scents of ginger, cinnamon and clove wafted in the warm air of the kitchen, filling your senses. Jake was humming along to Bing Crosby crooning from the speakers, smatterings of flour smudged on his old t-shirt and face. You were just as marked up with the fluffy white powder, and even worse, powdered sugar as you measured out enough powdered sugar for the royal icing.
âAre you sure we couldnât have gotten that bucket of powder mix?â you asked softly, picking up the small jar of cream of tartar and measuring out what you needed. You had already done the laborious job of sorting out egg whites, when you remembered that a popular baking brand had pre-made powder to avoid it all.
âBecause babe,â Jake persisted, using all the strength he had in his arms to roll out the deep brown dough. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, the long scar on his arm visible as he pushed the pin across the dough. âItâs not as strong as the real stuff you make yourself. We want these to last until New Years.âÂ
âNo, youâre gonna pick all the gumdrops off of mine by Christmas Eve, let the roof cave in, and tell me Sam did it.â you shot Jake a joking side-eye as he paused his rolling to shrug with a soft chuckle.Â
âYou know me too well.â Jake moved from his counter station to yours, pressing a kiss to your cheek before grabbing the ruler and sharp knife, beginning to measure out the house pieces on the dough. âAlthough this year I was gonna blame Rose.â
âYouâre awful!â you laughed, shaking your head as you turned the mixer on, mixing up the sugary glue. âI wouldnât believe any slander about that dog, sheâs too sweet.â
âEh, itâd be worth the try.â Jake was now bent at the waist, placing a level on top of the dough. The first time you spent the holidays with Jake, you had nearly fallen on the floor laughing at how intense the guitarist was about making gingerbread houses. He kept a pencil tucked behind his ear like a contractor, ready to write down his measurements for optimal cookie structure. You decided to take it just as seriously, and a competition broke out between the two of you.Â
Every year, now, before the Christmas party you hosted, you and Jake spent a full day on making your houses and decorating them to the nines. At the party, friends and family left votes, dropping gumdrops into a bowl in front of whose house they liked best.Â
âWell be prepared to lose this year, Jacob Thomas.â you snipped, taking a rubber spatula and scraping down the sides of the mixing bowl, making sure every bit of powder got mixed with the egg whites perfectly. âI have so many ideas, my gingerbread house is going to blow your mind.â
âI saw that bag of decorations you tried to hide in the back of the pantry.â Jake quirked an eyebrow at you when he straightened up. âYou think all that color is gonna beat me?â
âI know it is.â you replied coolly, turning the mixer back on. âJust you wait, everyone is going to vote for mine and youâll get a pity vote from Josh because mine blows yours out of the water.â
âThe pity vote will be from Danny, first of all,â Jake argued. âAnd secondly, youâre the one whoâs going to get the pity vote when my five-star ski chalet wins.â
âAh, weâre going chalet this year?â you grinned as Jake revealed his secret. âIsnât that what you did last year too?â
âHey, and it won last year.â Jake rebutted. âDonât fix what ainât broke.â
âMm, well, weâll see if your chalet is any match for an old school classic.â Moving from the mixer, you dampened a few paper towels, wringing them out in the sink before returning to your station, stopping the machine and lifting the head, letting the icing drip from the whisk attachment before taking it off. You placed the towels overtop of the icing to keep it from solidifying while you began helping Jake measure and cut out gingerbread pieces.Â
The two of you worked in silence, letting the classic holiday tunes fill the air. Sometimes Jake would start humming again, quickly cut off as he slowly sliced into the fragrant dough, the need to focus outweighing his love for music. Once you both had a few sheet pans loaded up with gingerbread, Jake put the first tray in the oven. While it was baking, he uncorked a bottle of riesling, pouring two glasses and handing one to you.Â
âTo another Kiszka Cookie House Competition.â He raised his wine glass towards you, and you reciprocated, daintily clinging the rims together before taking your sip.Â
âCompetition aside, this is my favorite part of the holidays.â you told him, setting your glass on the flour covered counter.Â
âYeah?â
âYeah.â you nodded, coming close and wrapping your arms around Jakeâs waist. âThe smell of the spices with the lights, and musicâŠit makes everything feel like home.â Jake set his own wine down and brought that hand up to your face, brushing your hair back and cupping your face. His other wrapped around your waist, holding you close to him. âYou make everything feel like home, Jake.âÂ
âItâs easy when you do the same for me.â he replied softly. âWhen weâre out on tour, I donât get homesick for this place, I get homesick for you.â Jakeâs toffee brown eyes glimmered at you, a tug at the corner of his lips revealed a sincere smile as he leaned in and pressed a kiss to your lips.Â
âJake, thatâs so sweet.â you pouted up at him when he pulled away. âBut Iâm still gonna kick your ass this year, and you canât swoon your way out of it.â
âIt was worth a shot.â Jake still kept his arm around you, holding you tight as Silver Bells started playing, Elvisâs cover. âI love this one.â he lowered his voice, matching Elvisâ pitch as he sang along. It was rare Jake sang loud enough for people to hear, even you. Instead of drawing attention to it, you rested your head on his shoulder as he sang along, swaying the two of you around in the spot you stood. Relaxing, you nuzzled your nose in the side of his neck, feeling the vibrations of his voice against it. You practically melted against him as he rested a cheek against the side of your head, singing directly in your ear.
âCity sidewalks, busy sidewalks, dressed in holiday style. In the air there's a feeling of Christmas. Children laughing, people passing, meeting smile after smile. And on every street corner you hear,â Jake was about to sing along to the chorus when he was cut off by the oven timer. Regretfully, he pulled away from you, pulling on an oven mitt and opening the oven door. He pulled out the tray, and your mouth immediately watered.Â
âAre you sure we canât just eat the gingerbread all night?â you whined, watching him set the tray on the oven and take off a mit, gingerly poking at the confection to test its doneness. Once satisfied, he put a new tray in the oven and set the timer. You retreated back to your riesling, while he grabbed his ruler and knife again, beginning to trim the rounded edges of the baked gingerbread before it cooled completely.Â
After baking so many trays, everything was finally ready, and you grabbed your bag of goodies from the pantry. The dining table was cleared off completely for this, and now instead of placemats and a centerpiece, there was a cheap holiday tablecloth, with stacks of cooled, hardened gingerbread and bowls of royal icing placed upon it. You dumped out your grocery bag as Jake took a seat at the table, placing a small cardboard tray in front of your seat and his.Â
âYour house is going to look like a rainbow threw up on it.â he jabbed with a laugh, making you stick out your tongue at him.
âMy candy cottage will be a masterpiece. Yours is going to look cliche and boring, so there.â you retorted with sass, sticking a hand on your hip. âNow stop yapping and focus on your own house.â Jake raised his hands up and started reaching for gingerbread squares.Â
The both of you worked quietly, intently focused on the construction of your houses. Jakeâs level was back out, and more often than in previous years, he had to snatch it away from your side of the table as you snuck it away to make sure your building was level too. Every so often, you and Jake exchanged little glances and smiles, letting the other know you were still happy to be in their company, though the furrowed brows and concentration could indicate otherwise.Â
As the clock ticked on, your holiday playlist looped, Jakeâs soft hums occasionally filling the air as you both started decorating around the houses as the icing set and joined the cookies together.Â
âAll of this candy is making me hungry.â you huffed as you cut small pieces of flat, rainbow colored sour candies into little squares for a pathway. Looking at Jake, who was dipping small pretzel sticks into melted chocolate for ski poles, you continued. âShould we order a pizza?âÂ
âSure, I need to take a break and let this chocolate harden up.â Jake wiped his hands on a paper towel next to him before picking up his phone. âThe usual?â
âMm, can we get extra mushrooms this time?â Jake nodded.Â
âOf course, darlinâ.â Jake paced a bit while he called the pizza place, placing the order for delivery. He came back to work on a few more things for his house until the doorbell rang. You kept yourself busy, making a classic red sled out of some twizzlers before he came back. âOkay, temporary pause on the gingerbread to eat pizza, drink wine and watch a movie.â
âOoh!â you set your sled gingerly down on the cardboard, wiping your hands off as you hopped up, going into the kitchen to grab some plates and napkins. âWhat movie are you thinking?â
âMm, letâs seeâŠ.how about Rudolph? Short and sweet so once weâre done we can get back to work?â
âSounds perfect to me.â you rushed to follow him to the living room, insisting the only lights be from the TV glow and the christmas tree. Settling onto the couch, you got a slice of pizza and plated it for Jake, then another for yourself as he joined you, picking up the remote and turning it on. Once he had settled on Rudolph, you both dug into your dinners, watching the poor young reindeer be picked on.
âOne year,â you began, snuggled into Jakeâs side, the pizza box half empty and long forgotten once you had scooched a little closer to him. âI was so upset about how everyone treated Rudolph, I cried and cried about it. It was so bad my parents went out and got me this little Rudolph stuffed animal, so I could hug him and make him feel better.â you blushed, admitting the tale of your childhood to Jake.Â
âAww baby,â the arm he had wrapped around your shoulder pulled you tighter to him. âYouâve got such a big heart.â
âI just donât like anyone feeling hurt or left out.â you shrugged. Jake nodded, pressing his lips to the side of your head.Â
âThatâs one of the many, many reasons I fell in love with you.â he murmured into your hair. âYou care so much about making everyone happy, making sure theyâre loved. Iâve made it my mission in life to make you feel it too.â turning your face, you pressed your lips to his before settling back into his side to finish the movie. Cleaning up once it was done, the both of you perched yourselves back at the dining room table, beginning work again and letting the hours tick by.
âHere you go, Rose, a special Christmas cookie, just for you.â you smiled as you held out the snowflake shaped dog treat you had baked early in the morning. Neither you nor Jake slept the night before, finishing your gingerbreads at around 6am. Once the bottle of riesling had been emptied, you both moved onto coffee, and come morning, were too wired to try and sleep. âFor being such a good girl all year.â
âSheâs a good girl every year, isnât that right?â Sam gave Rose a few pets as she munched on the treat. âSanta Paws is definitely going to spoil her rotten.â
âIâm glad, she deserves it.â you laughed. âCanât say much for her owner, however.â
âHey!â Sam gasped, looking taken aback, though a smile broke his faux offense. âI was very good this year!â
âThatâs not what a little birdie told meâŠtold me all about your tour shenanigansâŠI think some of those were definitely naughty.â
âLike what?â
âSomething about a hot tub in Spokane?â
âGod dam-Danny!â Sam looked around for the tally, curly headed man at the party. âHe wasnât supposed to tell you!â
âOh Sam,â you laughed. âIâm sure Santa will leave you something, he always does.â you winked at him, giving Rose another pet before leaving him to wrestle with his conscience. You worked your way around the party, playing the hostess with the mostess as you made sure everyone was having a great time, drinks were flowing and more importantly, gumdrops being dropped into bowls.
The dining room table had been cleaned up and reset, your gingerbread creations sat plum in the middle, the two bowls and one in the middle filled with gumdrops rested there. Around it were various hor devours, deviled eggs, charcuteries, veggie trays and more little finger foods. You had been pleased on your first go around that your bowl had seemingly more gumdrops in it than Jakeâs, but as the night wore on, his steadily grew.
âGet ready to lose, my darling.â Jake mumbled in your ear, his breath scented with the tinge of whiskey and coke. âEveryone loves a chalet.â
âOh, youâre the chalet?â Josh asked, looking up from his small plate. âI thought that was hers.â he reached into Jakeâs bowl, fishing out his gumdrop and placing it into your bowl.
âJosh!â Jake scoffed. âYou canât revote once youâve already voted!â
âAbsolutely I can!â Josh proclaimed. âYou guys need to label these.â
âThe point is to vote for the house you like the best, not the person.â you shrugged. âBut thank you for your vote.â
âAny time,â Josh winked at you before grabbing an olive off his plate and popping it in his mouth, patting you on the back as he walked away.
âThatâs cheating.â Jake said, looking at you. âYou should forfeit gracefully now.â
âOh you wanna win by forfeit?â you asked, cocking an eyebrow. âThat doesnât seem like a very dignified way to win.â Jake sputtered for a few moments, trying to reason around your jab. âDoesnât seem like winning will feel very victorious if you think one measly little gumdrop from your brother is gonna change the resultsâŠit looks like youâre winning so far anyway.â
âOkay fine,â Jake nodded. âBut if I catch any more people switching their votes, Iâm calling it.â
âFine, if you catch them.â you turned quickly to leave, Jake placing his hands on his hips.Â
âWait, whatâs that supposed to mean?!âÂ
âYouâll just have to stand there and watch the bowls all night to find out, wonât you?â you called with a sassy smirk over your shoulder. âLove you!â
As soon as Jake realized youâd just been playing with his tipsy paranoia, he rejoined the party, keeping close to you should you actually tell people to go change their votes. Eventually he forgot about it altogether when Danny started patting out a beat to the song playing, and Jake picked up one of the many guitars around the house, turning down the speaker volume as he and his brothers put on an impromptu Christmas concert.
Ending with Silver Bells, which Jake requested to play specifically for you, Josh clapped his hands and announced it was time to see who won the gingerbread house contest. The entire party squeezed into the dining room, where his parents took the bowls to the ends of the table, pushing back platters and beginning to count out the gumdrops.
âI think Jake was right,â you muttered to Danny. âHis chalet is going to win again.â
âHey, the bowls looked pretty even.â Danny squeezed your shoulder. âAnd if it helps, I voted for your candy cottage.â
âIt does help, thanks Danny.â you leaned into his side, giving him a squeeze before turning back to watch the counting. Once it was done, Josh pulled out a chair, stepping onto it and clearing his voice.
âKaren, what is your count for the chalet?â he gestured to his mother.
âTwenty-one gumdrops!â Karen announced. Everyone clapped and Jake looked triumphantly at you across the dining room. Josh hushed the small crowd, before gesturing to his father.
âKelly, what is your count for the candy cottage?â Kelly looked around, letting the anticipation build for a moment.
âTwenty,â he announced. Jakeâs victorious âyes!â could be heard under his breath as you deflated. âTwenty FOUR!â
âWhat?!â you nearly screamed. âDonât play games!â
âTwenty four gumdrops, read it and weep!â Sam had bent over, quickly counting the candies laid out in front of his father. âCandy cottage wins!â you bounced up and down excitedly, hugging Danny and anyone else who was close enough. Jake made his way around the table, holding out his hand.
âCongratulations, darlinâ.â he smiled softly. âA victory well fought for.â
âThank you.â you shook his hand, giggling as he pulled you into a hug. âIt was a tough battle.âÂ
With the excitement of the competition being over, family and friends started to leave, only a few lingering to help clean up before making their exit. Once alone, you and Jake loaded the dishwasher and put away leftovers, and tidied up a bit, tossing out any leftover plates, napkins and cups.Â
âThis year's party was the best one weâve had, I think.â Jake declared quietly, sitting down on the couch and patting the seat next to him. You were quick to fill the spot, tucking into his open arm and cuddling up.Â
âI do too.â you agreed. âI love throwing this party, but I like this part even more.â Jake looked at you as if you were crazy.
âWhat? The part where we clean up while exhausted?
âNo! The part where the last person leaves, and itâs just you and me again.â you explained softly. âSometimes when parties like that end, it feels really sad, that all that happiness and energy is gone. But with you, itâs different. I donât feel sad that the party ended. I feel excited because I get to have you all to myself in the quiet.â
âHmm, I like that.â Jake smiled, showing his pearly whites. âI hadnât thought of it that way.â you leaned up, pressing a kiss to his lips before settling back into the quiet, the glow of the christmas tree illuminating the living room. After a few moments, Jake spoke up again.
âCan I tell you something?â
âSure.â
âI voted for your house.â you pulled back from Jake, someone who was always known to vote for himself in the competition.Â
âReally?â he nodded. âWhy?
âBecause yours was better.â he shrugged simply. âAnd I wanted to see your face light up when you won.â
âOh Jake!â you launched yourself at him, smattering kisses all over his soft face, cherishing the laughter that spilled from his lips as you did so. When you finally settled, he took your face gently in both hands before pressing one last kiss to your lips.
âMerry Christmas, darlinââ
âMerry Christmas, Jake.â
Taglist: (feel free to add yourself!)
@joshsindigostreak @sinners-go-to-drink-the-wine @ascendingtostardust @sammysprincess @sammykiszkamyass @belovedsamuel @sunfl0wer-power @indigo-starcatcher @sammyscherub @earthlysorrows @lvnterninthenight @allieisacrybaby @losfacedevil @xserenax-13 @sarakay-gvf @shutupdevvie @myownparadise96 @watchingovergvff @gretavanfleetposts @josiee-gvf @joshkiszkatoothgap @madneedshelp @gardensgatedaisy @demonrat444 @dannyandthekiszkas @tearsofbri @paleshadow-ofadragon @happy-harpy-stuff @like-a-woman-in-a-dream @starshine-wagner @objectsinspvce @josh-iamyour-mama @mountain-in-springtime @cal-a-bungaa @capturethechaos @gvfpal
@allybjt @hippievanfleet @weightofbrokenbells @joshkiszkasbadussy @malany-gvf @ruby0antlers @samofthedawn @sacredjake @aim4thedoublee @diditallforyouu @gvfmarge @highladyofasgard @sammysvanfeet @gold-mines-melting @earthgrlsreasy @mountain-in-springtime @forcebond301 @stardust-and-shadows @llightmyllovee @gretavangroupie @comesofarsomehow @infinisonicosm @indigofallingsky @hellowgoodbye @hearts-hunger @fwzco @dharma-divine33 @lightsofthe-living-gvf @ascendingtothestarsasone @klarxtr @ofthecaravel @musicspeaks @radmads-gvf @madneedshelp @musicspeaks
#jake kiszka#jake kiskza x reader#jake kiska fic#jake gvf#greta van fleet#greta van fic#greta van fluff
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who was the first faceclaim that was 'ruined' for you in the rpc? why was that?
đ @divinehr . mun questions
oh, uh . . . fuck it's hard to remember the trends. the first one? fuck, i can tell u right now it's timothee ski-chalet. that guy is so ugly &. apparently he sucks. idfk. pedro pascal? ruined, fuck, the guy from inside - oSCAR ISAAC, that's him. ruined, don't wanna see his face again. i still support people using sophie thatcher and i also do, but she's getting there. ummmm,
i think i remember people like nina dobrev were really heavily used . in all honesty i didn't care about that. who're some extra ones? mm. idk man, i just like using actors way less than musicians.
oH MY GOD HOLLAND RODEN remember when she was everyone's fc? that was bad. and like kathryn macnamara was so bad (i'm sorry if i'm botching these names i'm not googling them all). also i don't blame everyone but good old cheryl blossom mads petsch was everywhere -- too much so. that brunette from pretty little liars or whatever show, idfk LOL. the fucking stiles stilinski guy? lol Diana Aragon? fuckkkkk oh my god.
edit: MADS MIKKELSON
#divinehr#đą. . . . âą ËËË [ đŠđšđ«đ đđ§ âș answered ]#just whatever guy the (wrong) hetero-sexuals are whining over that half-decade.
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The Girls are Settling In!Â
The snow outside of this Komorebian chalet is a perfect backdrop to the chill vibes the girls are curating on this Girls Trip Getaway: lots of eating, lots of reality tv/classic movies, lots of girl chat, and a lil bit of Komorebi Fantasy/Northern Lights...(Azure said, âmm mmmm, let me put on my shades...â)
Previously. (Safe and Sound.) | Next. (After Last Night.)
#It'sAikoOnTheGirlsTripforMeALSOIWantToGoToThere...#TS4 gameplay#TS4#Black Simmer#Black Simblr#Black Sims#mt komorebi#TS4 mt komorebi#Sims 4 snowy escape#TS4mm gameplay#Sims 4 gameplay#TheDysonSistersTS4#TS4mm#TS4 story#TS4 screenshots#TS4 screenies#TS4 screencaps#TS4 interior
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I was plan go to Stafford town yesterday and going Photo shop post the Ethiopia letter to my sponsor child but weather so bad it rain here people didn't turn up to work because flood about even out my house was lake so stay in bed all day watch Television, and play Sims 3 base game.
Now can't Stafford town till after haircut but going cath bus to going town mum don't driver to Stafford town as don't want parking fine if more then 2 hour in Stafford other wise have paid ÂŁ12 for park all day Stafford railway station. RIP OF Britain.
I worry won't any buses in the evening if going Cimera mum said there always 101 bus but won't see bus stop in the dark.
So worry do need haircut is messing
I decide post the photos of Sims 4 and gluten free pop corn there few suprise this week.
I did have another Christmas meal and ice cream toffee mm it was nice.
But can't stop eating always want more so frustrating when want more in midnight and can't so going read the Peggy at chalet school book see if can going sleep because going out tonight. Then tomorrow read youth bible đ had idea story but gone out my head now.
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Most Stunning And Extraordinary Watches Luxurious, Innovation And Art P4
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X...To reinvent its watch every morning without dropping its own characteristics, ââLes Matinauxââ, also available with a smaller case of 38,5mm, attire up with supplies and colors. A varied and colored vary of straps equipped with an interchangeable system completes the collection. XThe merging of revolutionary high-frequency watchmaking and vibrant optical art. XA huge, dusty and noisy circular noticed, thatâs what this watch has been in a place to capture in an impressive and unusual âSquroundâ format.
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Mms Folie, pensé...
-10/04/20-
Parfois nous nous demandons si ce monde vaux vraiment la peine dây vivre. Parfois je me demande si, il ne serait pas mieux pour moi et notre santĂ© mental dâaller vivre dans les montagne, un petit chalet isolĂ© loin de tous.
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Another few minutes passed.Â
Another few sips of whiskey were had.Â
Another few things remained unsaid.
âArrows Through Archerâ by Nash Summers
#nash summers#archer x mallory#mm romances#canada#along the fog pines and darkness#archer#house in the woods#whiskey lovers#chalets#arrows through archer
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Faking It | Part VI
Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x F!Reader
AHHHH THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL THE LOVE YOU GUYS!! This chapter took a lot out of me for some reason, but I'm pretty content with where we're at. Hope you like it!
PS. You will like it.
PPS. I promise you, you will like it XD
Summary: Fake dating your friend, Bradley Bradshaw - what could possibly go wrong? Your sister is getting married and you need a date. You enlist Bradley's help and the rest is history.
CW: swearing, minor angst, FLUFFITY FLUFF
Start from the beginning: Part I
âChicken is good,â Bradley says to his dinner plate.
Across the table, your aunt makes an enthusiastic sound in agreement and continues chewing.
âDelicious,â you respond curtly.
Bradley looks over at you, so you turn your head to meet his gaze. âYours is better, darling,â he says, feigning a cordial tone, but you can see past the charade. Heâs just as angry with you as you are with him.
âHer mushroom stuffed chicken is divine,â your mother chimes in.
âItâs her specialty,â Bradley says, quoting a line from the notes youâd given him to prepare for the weekend because, obviously, heâs never had your mushroom stuffed chicken. He presses his lips together although the smile he aims at you is acerbic.
You try your best not to roll your eyes at him.
âDoes Bradley cook?â your aunt asks, watching the two of you with interest.
You glance at her in alarm, unsure how to respond since you donât know the answer. You could make something up; nobody would know any better, but somehow that seems more dishonest than pretending heâs your boyfriend.
âI do, actually,â Bradley intervenes. You look at him gratefully and he returns your gaze with a slight nod. âY/N is particularly fond of my shepherdâs pie.â
Your mother cringes at Bradley. âY/N hates ground meat. She wonât even eat burgers.â
Bradley stares at your mother, speechless for a moment, while you try to keep your composure despite the rapidly encroaching panic.
âItâs uh⊠vegetarian,â he says quickly.
âVegetarian shepherdâs pie?â your aunt asks. âNever heard of such a thing.â
âMm-hm.â You start to nod vigorously. âItâs so good.â
âWhat do you make it with?â your mother asks and everybody at the table seems farcically fascinated with the concept of vegetarian shepherdâs pie.
You feel like the air is being sucked from your lungs as you watch Bradley purse his lips while he stalls. âBradley, I totally forgot to bring my shawl from the chalet and Iâm cold,â you say.
Bradley raises his eyebrows at you and you know exactly what heâs thinking: that itâs about a million degrees in this place. âHere.â He starts shrugging off his suit jacket and you nearly groan because he must know that youâre not actually cold.
You give him a pointed look as he starts to drape the jacket over your shoulders. âIâd really prefer my shawl,â you say, trying to keep the severity out of your tone.
âOh, donât make him go all the way back to the rooms, Y/N,â your aunt says sympathetically. Then, she adds, âHe still has to tell us about this shepherdâs pie. I wouldnât mind grabbing the recipe.â She beams at him.
âItâs uh,â Bradley says, âexactly like the one with meat. Except, you know, without it.â Bradley responds uneasily, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand.
âThereâs got to be more to it.â Your mother narrows her eyes. âIs it a secret?â
âWhat? No, of course not!â Bradley chuckles. Then, he says, âOh! I love this song!â He jumps up from his chair. âCome on, Y/N. Letâs dance!â
You stare at him in horror, trying to determine exactly what song is playing over the hum of dinner conversation. The dance floor is empty because everyone is still eating. âIâm actually not a huge fan ofâ â
But Bradley doesnât let you finish the sentence because he grabs your hand and pulls you out of your seat so quickly that his jacket flies off your shoulders.
âDonât you worry,â your grandmother says, leaning down to pick up the jacket and hanging it over the back of your chair. âGo have fun, you two.â
You let out a sigh as Bradley drags you out into the middle of the dance floor, already grooving to the music as he walks. Now that youâre closer to the speakers, you recognize the song that apparently Bradley loves.
He tugs on your hand, forcing you to turn toward him, and you catch his eyes sweeping over your face before meeting your gaze. He lifts your hand, drawing you closer while taking you by the waist. Heâs shimmying his shoulders to the beat, his lips curling into a smirk when you start to move your hips reluctantly.
When the chorus kicks in, Bradley starts to sing along. âOoh baby, I love your way.â His voice is a little raspy and a lot sexy. You feel the now familiar turbulence wreak havoc on your organs, but Bradley continues his serenade, completely unaware of just exactly what itâs doing to you.
You feel your scowl dissolve as Bradley tries to engage you in the dancing by moving your arms around. You start to laugh when he twists you this way and that as he sings at the top of his lungs. Before long, you forget exactly why youâve been upset with him, and your irritation seems hardly relevant at all, especially considering the lengths to which heâs going in order to keep up appearances.
Bradley extends his arm out and spins you before bringing you flush against his body. Your hips align with his and the two of you sway together from side to side, his hand clutching yours to his chest as he sings, âI wanna tell you I love your way, everyday. I wanna be with you night and day.â
When the next song comes on, other guests begin to step out onto the dance floor. âMight be safer to just stay out here,â he says, shrugging.
You nod. âChicken wasnât very good anyway,â you say, thinking of your half-finished dinnerplate.
He laughs. âHereâs hoping the cake will be chocolate,â he says, already dancing to the next song.
You chuckle, starting to move more freely to the upbeat music.
Bradley smiles at you appreciatively, grabbing your hand to swing you to the side while you grin, admiring his dancing skills. The DJ is playing all the old classics and you are both thoroughly enjoying the familiar melodies.
Several songs in, when the two of you are moderately out of breath, you feel a hand on your shoulder. You turn to see your sisterâs smiling face. She leans in to whisper in your ear, âYou guys look super cute together!â
The words send a bittersweet ripple through you because, on the one hand, it means your ruse has been a success but, on the other, itâs all a farce. Your feelings toward Bradley might be genuine, but Bradley is here as your friend. And heâs faking the rest of it. Nevertheless, you shoot your sister a wide grin, grateful for her support.
A few minutes later, Aly shows up to claim her dance with Bradley. You step aside and watch on as Bradley takes the girlâs hands and starts twirling her around with a giant smile on his face. He seems pleased that sheâs remembered to find him. You laugh when he picks her up and swings her, feet first, on either side of his body. Aly is giggling merrily and, as he sets her back down, Bradley glances up at you briefly, giving you a lopsided grin and a wink.
The night seems to fly by as you and Bradley spend the majority of it on the dance floor. When your sister goes to do the bouquet toss, your mother pushes you into the throng of single women gathering eagerly behind the bride. You eye your mother crossly but, when you catch the amused smirk on Bradleyâs face, you suddenly want to catch the damn bouquet.
The battle for the flying flowers is unexpectedly aggressive. There is a lot more elbowing than youâd expect, as well as a fair amount of shoving, kicking, and toe stomping. But, for some reason, you are determined to win. You end up catching the bouquet despite the numerous hands obstructing your view, and you turn back to your table and do a little victory dance as you walk back toward Bradley. He laughs at you, shaking his head.
âYouâre such a goof,â he mutters in a low voice as you approach him, but the expression he wears is something reminiscent of fondness.
You drop your eyes because his gaze makes you blush. âYour turn,â you say in a sing-song voice, and he passes a hand over your stomach as he proceeds to join the rest of the bachelors awaiting the toss of the garter.
Your aunt cozies up to you as you watch Bradley approach the group of men on the floor. âI like him,â she says.
You turn to her in surprise.
âDonât look so shocked,â she says. âI think heâs perfect for you.â
âMore perfect than Steven?â you ask pointedly.
âEh,â your aunt shrugs. âI never cared for Steven.â
âBut heâs a doctor!â you exclaim in mock outrage, trying to emulate your motherâs tone when sheâd learned of your decision to break up.
Your aunt chuckles. âSteven is a pompous ass.â
âCan you tell my mother that?â
Your aunt turns to face you. âIâve never seen you look at Steven the way you look at Bradley.â
You bite your lip, wondering if she might also have noticed the way Bradley looks at you when you arenât paying attention. But you canât ask her that, so you turn back to observe the garter toss in silence.
You see that Steven has stepped into the crowd where he and Bradley promptly exchange menacing glares with one another. Bradley then turns his head to glance back at you over his shoulder. You wave at him just as the groom throws the garter and, by the time Bradley looks back, Steven jumps up to grab it.
You hold your breath as Steven dangles the garter in front of Bradleyâs face and, for a moment, Bradley looks like he might punch him for being an idiot. But then Bradley lets out a long breath and turns to walk back toward you with a scowl.
âWhat does it mean?â he asks as he approaches you.
âWell,â you say. âObviously it means that Steven and I are meant to be and that weâll be getting married and having a bunch of babies.â
Bradley watches you impassively. âYouâre funny,â he says. You smile at him mildly and he steps closer, wrapping his arm around you. âHeâll have to get past me first,â he mutters, and his words inspire yet another flutter in your gut that leaves you feeling buzzed.
But the sensation is interrupted by Stevenâs arrogant drawl. âShall we?â he says, and you turn to see him standing right behind you. âTheyâre waiting for us.â
You narrow your eyes at him as Bradleyâs grip tightens on your hip. âWhoâs waiting for us?â
âItâs customary for the woman who catches the bouquet and the man who catches the garter to dance,â your aunt says with a grimace.
You blink at her defeatedly and then glance up worriedly at Bradley. He lifts an eyebrow and squints his eyes, his hold loosening around your waist. âItâs just a dance,â he says, seeing the discomfort on your face. âDonât let him get to you.â
You nod, releasing a wavering sigh, and turn toward Steven. âLetâs get this over with,â you say.
Steven grins at you. âThatâs the spirit,â he says, taking your hand to lead you out onto the now empty dance floor. He glances over his shoulder as the two of you make your way to the center, a faint smirk materializing on his face when his eyes lock on Bradley.
Steven places his hand on your side and pulls you closer when the song starts. As the two of you slowly rotate, you can see Bradley watching you from the sidelines, a hard expression coloring his features.
Steven brings you into an embrace. âFeels like old times,â he says.
âNot really,â you respond coldly, trying to regain some space between your bodies.
âDonât tell me youâre serious about this aviator,â he says.
You glance up at him indignantly. âOf course, Iâm serious about him. I wouldnât have brought him to my sisterâs wedding if I werenât.â
He chuckles. âYou forget that I know you very well,â he says.
You swallow, wondering what heâs getting at.
Steven eyes you with a devious smirk. âHeâs not your boyfriend,â he says.
âExcuse me?â you say, offended and anxious in equal measure.
He chuckles. âSure, maybe heâs a friend,â he says, shrugging. âBut that dude is not dating you.â
âWhat are you talking about?â You want to ask how he could tell, but you donât want to give anything away.
âThe closest you have gotten to each other is a quick hug here and there. You look like youâre afraid to touch him,â he says. âSo, the question is, why did you feel the need to bring him? You didnât know Iâd be here, so it wasnât to make me jealous.â
âYouâve got it wrong,â you scoff.
He raises his eyebrows. âItâs your mom, isnât it? Sheâs pushing you to start dating again. Sheâs always been a big fan of mine.â
You roll your eyes. âStop talking, Steven.â
Steven brings his face closer to yours. âMaking me jealous is just an added benefit, isnât it? Well, Iâm here to tell you that it worked. Even if you arenât actually dating the guy.â
âI couldnât care less how you feel about my relationship,â you respond, gritting your teeth.
Steven chuckles. ââRelationshipâ,â he repeats, using his right hand to make air quotes.
Youâre seething so much that your head starts to hurt and, just as youâre about to walk away from him, you feel a soft touch along your shoulder blade. Bradley steps around you, giving Steven an icy look. âI can take over from here, Steven,â he says casually, as if interrupting a traditional slow dance in front of an audience is regularly scheduled programming.
Steven stares at him in astonishment, completely lost for words. Bradley doesnât wait for him to respond; he takes your hand out of Stevenâs and leads you away.
You raise your eyebrows as Steven stands alone in the middle of the floor, looking around awkwardly. Meanwhile, you feel Bradleyâs hand slide up your waist and pull you in, swaying you gently to the music. You gulp as Steven glares at you before turning on his heel and making his way toward your table, where your aunt and mother are standing and watching the action unfold.
âBradley,â you say quietly.
âHm?â
You glance up at him anxiously. âHe knows,â you say. âSteven knows.â
âKnows what?â he asks.
You bite your lip. âThat youâre not really my boyfriend. That all of this is fake.â
Bradley makes a skeptical face. âDid you tell him?â
âOf course not! He guessed.â
Bradley chuckles. âHow?â
You shrug. âApparently, weâre not affectionate enough.â
Bradley narrows his eyes, one corner of his mouth curling upward slightly. âWhat are you proposing?â
âIâm not proposing anything! Iâm saying, the jig is up and weâre fucked,â you whisper feverishly. âOh god, heâs talking to my mother. Heâs going to tell her!â
Bradley lets out a slow sigh and pulls you a tad closer. âHey,â he says. âThereâs nothing to tell. Remember what I said? Donât let him get to you.â
You glance up into Bradleyâs eyes and, for a single moment, the background fades into nonexistence and your troubles with Steven seem a million miles away. But then, you shift back to reality, suddenly aware of the entire room watching you dance with your supposed boyfriend whom you canât even kiss him.
As if on cue, Bradley says in a low voice, âYou know, there is a way we can be more convincing as a couple.â
You stare at him for a moment while he watches you carefully, probably analyzing your reaction. His gaze drops down to your lips and you instinctively crane your neck before you can stop yourself. Bradleyâs eyebrows twitch as a mystified expression passes fleetingly over his features. You note the bob of his Adamâs apple as he swallows uneasily; the rapid rise and fall of his chest as his face nears yours.
âWhat do you think?â he mutters, so close now that the tip of his nose brushes against the tip of yours.
Thereâs so much commotion in your chest, you feel like your ribs might rupture trying to keep it contained. âUh,â you breathe, not confident you can articulate a more complex sound. You hope that his question is rhetorical in nature and that heâs not actually expecting a response.
Bradley steps about a millimeter closer, the hand he kept on your hip now sliding slowly up your side. You can feel his fingers clasp around your bent elbow, lingering there for a moment before trailing up your arm, its trace along your bare skin electric.
You let your lips part when you feel the heat of his breath as it mixes with yours, your slow dance coming to a near standstill as the two of you waver in uncertainty. You know that kissing Bradley Bradshaw will be the ultimate annihilation of whatever chance you might have had at restoring a platonic friendship with him once the weekend is over. Perhaps not for Bradley, but certainly for you. You also know that kissing Bradley Bradshaw is the best method of proving the authenticity of your relationship to your mother and Steven.
But before you can continue to contemplate the risk-reward ratio of kissing him, you feel Bradleyâs bottom lip skim over your top one, and you could swear that your body might shatter upon impact. If Bradley, by some chance, determines to kiss you kiss you, you might not survive it. But despite the ever-present possibility that you may die if you were to actually lock lips with Bradley Bradshaw, you are now convinced, without a shadow of a doubt, that you are willing â nay, aching â to hazard it.
And just as you begin to wonder whether Bradley is on the same page, his mouth closes around yours. For a moment, neither of you breathes, giving you ample opportunity to acknowledge the fact that you arenât dead but, on the contrary, extremely alive. You are submerged in sensation, baffled by how many things in your body can feel.
And then Bradley breathes out forcefully, taking a step into you, his arm curving around your back to keep you steady as he presses his body against yours. His lips begin to move, inviting yours into a desperate, delirious dance.
You let your hand travel up his chest and behind his neck, your fingers grazing his skin as he leans closer. Meanwhile, his hand is suddenly in your hair, contending with the mass of bobby pins as he attempts to rake his fingers right through. Instead, he resolves to grip a chunk of it by your ear, interrupting the kiss for a moment to let out a low chuckle against your mouth. At that, you slide your hand to the back of his head, pushing him toward you again.
Bradley resumes kissing you eagerly, both his hands now arriving on either side of your face, his thumbs brushing tenderly over your cheeks.
Somewhere beyond, one song ends and another begins. There is movement on the outside, some shuffling, and you finally open your eyes just as your glorious kiss comes to a conclusion.
Bradley rests his forehead on yours, breathing heavily into the small space between your faces while neither of you dare to say a word.
There are others on the dance floor now. Dancing, laughing, not paying the two of you the slightest bit of attention. And why would they? Youâve just done what any normal couple would do. Nobody knows how the moment transported you, how it has altered you.
Then, Bradley speaks. âDo you think theyâll miss us?â
âWhat?â you breathe, your foreheads still together as you watch his mouth move.
He bites into his lip. âIf we leave now,â he says. âWill they notice weâre gone?â
Your heart starts to hammer once again. âWhat about the cake?â you ask.
âThe cake?â he says, and you feel the skin of his forehead wrinkle as he furrows his brows.
âWhat if itâs chocolate?â you ask.
Bradleyâs mouth curls into an amused smile. âCould be diamond for all I care.â
âThat would be tough on the teeth.â You make a grimace to lighten the mood but, on the inside, youâre crumbling. Bradley wants to leave. He wants to leave so he isnât forced to kiss you again.
Bradley lets out a steady sigh and takes a step toward you, the movement bringing your bodies together. You close your eyes because youâre far too close to see anything meaningful anymore anyway. âI could give a fuck about the cake, Y/N,â he says hoarsely.
Read Part VII
Tag List:
I will try my best to tag the rest of this list in the comments! Might take a while bc I can only tag 5 at a time, so I might finish tagging in the morning. If I don't get to you, I'm sorry!
XOXO
@lonelywitchv2
@fanboyluvr
@marrianena
@anotherr-fine-mess
@mrs-obrien
@living-in-my-imagination88
@kindablackenedsuperhero
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@mak-32
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@currentlybradshaw
@whisperofsong
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âThe Sun: Prince Andrewâs pay-off to sex accuser Virginia Giuffre âwas as little as ÂŁ3mâ despite reports of ÂŁ12mâ
Well, if the chalet sold for the asking price of ÂŁ17 million then deduct that and the 5 million mews house and his legal fees should also be covered.
If the BRF had a good media team they ought to leak that Andrew repaid his mother and or bother.
Oh, hell no, don't explain anything!
I'm picking up a lot of turmoil within the family.
The brother that fell on the sword
Ask yourself why Andrew was friends with Kevin Spacey. What does Kevin prefer?
They are covering up for Prince Charles's past activities. I believe that will come out in Harry's book. Remember, MM was chosen to infiltrate the Windsors.
Smeg is worst than Fergie and Diana combined. It will be difficult for the Royals to remove Harry's leach.
None of them know how to handle any of this. Being Ostrich won't make it go away.
Bravery and a bunch of apologies should come out. The British people are very forgiving.
Thank you, Anon đđ
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CHOOSE WISELY
Anchovy essence â Thick, oily sauce of pounded anchovies and spices
Avgolemono â Egg-lemon sauce or soup
Avocado sauce â Sauce prepared using avocado as a primary ingredient
Barbecue sauce â Sauce used as a marinade, basting, topping or condiment[1]
Bread sauce â Sauce made with milk and bread crumbs
Cheese sauce â Sauce made with cheese
Cocktail sauce â Condiment
Coffee sauce
Corn sauce
Coulis â Thin sauce made from purĂ©ed and strained vegetables or fruits
Duck sauce â American Chinese condiment with a translucent orange appearance
Egusi sauce
Fry sauce â Sauce used as a condiment often served with fries
Mahyawa
Mignonette sauce â Condiment served with oysters
Mint sauce â Sauce made of chopped mint
Mushroom ketchup â Style of ketchup
Normande sauce
Pan sauce
Peppercorn sauce
Rainbow sauce â Type of culinary sauce
Chalet sauce
Ravigote sauce
Romesco
Salad dressing â Food mixture, served chilled or at room temperature
Salsa (salsa roja)
Satsebeli
Sauce andalouse
Sauce aurore â a veloutĂ© sauce flavored with tomato[2]
Sauce bercy
Sauce poulette â prepared using mushrooms and lemon[3]
Sauce vin blanc
Sofrito â Cooked vegetable foundation for cooking
Sour cream sauce
Steak sauce â Brown sauce for seasoning of steaks
Sweet chili sauce â Condiment primarily used as a dip
Tomato sauce â Sauce made primarily from tomatoes
Vinaigrette â Sauce made from oil and vinegar and commonly used as a salad dressing
Wine sauce
Worcestershire sauce â English fermented condiment
Mm duck sauce
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Raven knew exactly what he was doing, and it was annoying. Her eye twitched as she saw the pamphlets laid out on their kitchen table, advertising far-off locations like Fiji and the Maldives, along with places closer to home like the Rockies or Sedona. Dick had been dropping hints for the past six months that they should get away, and it was nothing short of torture.Â
She didnât have time to get away. Dick may have retired his cape in lieu of working a more traditional job with the Gotham city police department, but she hadnât. Raven was still fighting super villains and wrangling a team of young superheroes. She appreciated his thoughtfulness, but there was no way she could leave the team in the hands of Changeling. That was asking for something to go horrifically wrong.Â
Raven heard the door open behind her, and she turned to see Dick standing there, shrugging off his uniform jacket. She kept her face blank and stared at him, letting a thin snarl tug at her lips. If he felt her animosity, he didnât say anything.Â
âIâm thinking Thai for dinner. Gang Garee?â He ran his fingers through his hair, shaking out a few raindrops. âOr we can eat the leftover spaghetti you made last night⊠it was mostly edible.âÂ
Her snarl turned into a scowl, and she crossed her arms over her chest. âRichard Grayson.â
âOh. My full name. I must be in trouble.â He walked up to her and glanced down at the pamphlets, still spread along the table. A knowing smile pulled at his mouth. âI see you got my giftsâŠâ He reached down and grabbed the pamphlet for the Rockies. âIâm leaning more towards the mountains⊠a chalet hidden from everyone. No cell phone service. Hot tub.â His grin widened.
Raven continued to glare. âI cannot take time off.âÂ
âYes, you can.â He crossed his arms over his chest, his demeanor slipping into that of a leader. He might have left the Titans years ago, but that didnât mean he wouldnât pull rank on her. He could still exude that air of authority, and Raven usually fell in line - but not this time. She refused to let him boss her around like he still had sway over her professional life.Â
âI cannot. Kon and Cassie just got recruited to the team, and their discipline is abhorrent. I have to be here to make sure they donât destroy half the city because they canât control themselves.â Ravenâs voice was low and firm. âRight now is not a good time to take off.â
âYeah?â Dick lifted an eyebrow and stared into her face. âItâs never a good time. Youâve always got something going on. Something that needs your attention. Another fire you need to put out. You donât give yourself enough time for you.â He reached down and grabbed the pamphlet for the Rockies again, pushing it towards her. âNext week. Youâre packing your bags and youâre going to stay all week in a mountain chalet with me, where we will sit in a hot tub and watch the snow fall.âÂ
âYou donât get to dictate that.â Ravenâs voice was dripping venom.Â
âI do now.â He dropped the pamphlet back on the table. âI already talked to Vic and Donna. Theyâre ready to step into your place for a week and make sure your team doesnât obliterate the city while youâre gone.âÂ
âDick⊠you donât get to just upend my life because you think itâs necessary.â She sighed and her shoulders dropped, feeling the end of the argument starting to creep up on her. She was too tired to fight him for much longer.Â
âYou havenât taken a vacation in three years, Raven. You havenât even taken a day off in two. And we havenât had sex in a month. Youâre overworked, underpaid, and everyone relies far too much on you.â His lips twitched. âI barely see you right now, and Iâm married to you. I just want to spend time with you⊠preferably in a hot tub in the mountains, but Iâll take whatever I can get at this point.â
Guilt twisted in Ravenâs chest, and she looked away from Dickâs striking blue eyes. Gods. She hated it when he was right. It annoyed her to no end. She had been so busy that she hadnât even realized how tight she actually was. It was like she was a string that had been twisted too tight, and now she was ready to snap. If she didnât take time to herself, she was going to hurt someone, and probably herself too.Â
âVacation.â Dick stepped up to her, his hands settling on her hips as he pulled her close. His features softened just a little, and he pressed soft kisses along her hairline. âA hot tub in the mountains, staring at the night sky⊠making love by a roaring fire.â He kissed along her temple to her ear. âAll day long.â
A shiver slid down her spine, and she found her fingers clinging to the front of his shirt. It had been far too long since she slept with her own husband. Her frown deepened. âI hate it when youâre right.â
He laughed and his hands tightened on her waist. âYeah?â
Raven leaned up and kissed along the sharp line of his jaw. âShould we start our vacation early? I feel like Iâm out of practice when it comes to making love.â
His grin widened. âOh?â
âMm.â Her hand slid down the front of his chest, flicking open the buttons on his uniform. âI think I might need to go a few rounds before I remember how.â
âWellâŠâ His hands were already pulling at the hidden catches in her uniform, and the cool chill of the apartment started to soak through her bare skin. âGood thing you have a willing partner. Iâm happy to help you practice.â
Raven just pulled him down for a kiss, and let herself enjoy a few blissful moments of peace.Â
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What about the first time daddy!Bill let you see and touch his cock?
Mmmph, yes. This drabble is a bit of a continuation of this one [x], where soft Daddy!Bill takes you on a first date and does his best to keep it respectful. Iâve been into the idea of a very loving, compassionate Daddy who only wants to protect and spoil you. DDLG themes ahead...
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Tonight was the night you'd been waiting for. After weeks of preparation and private discussion, agreements and promises, Bill took you to a sleepy mountain town where he liked to get away. It was your first real trip with him, and you suspected his invitation meant more than a fun weekend cross-country skiing and sipping hot chocolate by the fire in the chalet.
You spent the first day exploring the area, thick winterized boots strapped to your feet and a cumbersome parka zipped up to your chin. Bill had coiled a scarf around the bottom half of your face, made sure your knit hat was on straight and helped you poke your hands into a pair of mittens he kept in the closet. The walk was refreshing, albeit clumsy, but he held your hand with a smile and brought you down to the frozen lake to catch the minks skittering around their icy bank-side caverns. Beyond the lake lay a crown of slate and white mountains. Their staggering prowess, Bill's large hand gripping yours, and the inches-thick layers surrounding your body had you thoroughly disarmed. This was a place to forget, rewire. Up in the mountains, the rest of the world turned off.
And forget you did. When you and Bill hunkered down for the night to a home-cooked dinner, you thought of nothing but what was to come next. He kept staring at you from across the table with a little smirk teasing his lips. You were never nervous around Bill, but tonight, you couldn't breathe away the flush on your cheeks. The wine he'd poured in your glass didn't last, and when you asked for more, Bill shook his head slowly.
"I don't think that's wise. You need to be of sound mind tonight."
His assertion didn't come as a shock. It pleased him to see you nod your head, and he reached for your hand to rub your knuckles.
"I think we're ready, don't you?"
You wanted to blurt out, "yes! Yes, I'm ready! I've been waiting for so long, Bill, yes!" Instead, you kept calm and smiled. He appreciated your patience, flashing you a promising leer.
After dinner, Bill washed the dishes before you took separate showers. You brushed your hair, put on a nightgown and waited on the bed for him to finish his nightly routine. Then, he slid into fresh sheets with you and took you by shoulders for a kiss so long the next one shocked you. Bill had kissed you before, but never like this.
"Do you like it up here?" He asked.
"Yes, it's beautiful. I'm so grateful for the trip, I don't know how to thank you."
"You know why I brought you up here, right?"
"I think I can take a guess," you said.
"There's no pressure, honey. I just like spending time with you and guilty of overindulgence from time to time. It makes me happy to take care of you. I want you to have all the best things."
"I know," was all you could say.
"Yeah. And I'm proud of you for waiting. You're very sweet and patient. But I'd like to recap. If you don't mind."
"Of course," you agreed.
Bill shifted in bed, resting his hands on your legs, so close yet so far from where you wanted them.
"I want to be a good Daddy to you. That means I expect you to be good to me as well. That's my requirement. Respect. You give me your word, and I promise I'll make you feel like a real princess. But you gotta listen."
He stared at you firmly, and your head wagged. You'd waited for this for so long, it tingled your loins to be close enough to taste the air behind his words.
"What's our word gonna be?"
"Cinnamon."
His grave reserve cracked from a faint smile on his lips. "Wow, you had that one ready to go."
"I've thought about this night since I met you."
"Me too, baby girl. It's all right if I call you that? My baby girl?"
You fumbled only slightly over your answer, enough to flatten it into a whisper. "Yes, Daddy."
"Are you ready, honey? Once I flip the switch, it's Daddy mode until I'm finished with you. And I promise you will be finished several times before I am. So don't forget your word if I play too rough."
Gush. You couldn't take his words gliding down your neck, his mouth coming close to grazing your skin, but never quite. The heat grew between your legs, and he sensed it there. He'd dragged you through a long waiting period, and now he was two layers away from being naked with you.
"I'm ready."
"That's good. How would you like to start, baby girl? You show me, or I show you?"
"Show me," you blurted.
"I thought you might say that. Tell you what, why don't you sit right there in the middle of the bed, and I'll give you a nice show?"
Bill sat with his back against a mound of pillows, legs spread in the longest, bare-legged V-shape with you in between his shins. You wanted to stroke the hair on his legs and test if his thighs felt as supple as they looked. His underwear did nothing to disguise his bulge. They enhanced itâdrew your eyes to his crotch, which he began stroking before you even got comfortable.
Over the material, his large hand pushed. He tugged his bottom lip and flashed you his eyes every few seconds until his cock shot off to the right, rolling with blood. The longer he rubbed his shaft, the thicker he grew, and the wetter the sensation in your panties.
Suddenly you were drooling, waiting for the moment he pushed down his boxers and let his cock spring up. Bill stopped and crooked his finger at you.
"Come to Daddy, little girl. Come get your treat. I wanna watch you unwrap it."
You scooted up the bed, closer to his groin, and waited for him to nod, granting you permission to pull down the band.
"Oh, Daddy... It's so big."
"Do you like that?"
You let your hand answer the question. Taking care not to grip too firmly, you gave it a couple of strokes. Bill closed his eyes and sank into the pillows. He exulted the motion of your fingers working his length. His head returned to neutral, his eyes peeled open, and he rolled his bottom lip with his teeth.
"Feels so good when you stroke it like that, princess."
"It's pretty," you said.
"Yeah? You think so? It doesn't scare you, does it, baby?"
"No, Daddy. I like it. You're beautiful all over."
Bill bent his knees as he reached for your face. You continued your languid massage as he nipped your lips and whimpered into the kiss, smothering your mouth when you delivered a particularly adept twist.
"Mm, don't stop, baby girl. Keep doing exactly what you're doing. That's perfect," he whispered. "You're so good for me. My sweet girl... Taking care of Daddy's cock so well. It's your responsibility now, and I have a feeling you won't let me down."
#soft daddy bill#soft!daddybill#bill skarsgard imagine#bill skarsgard fanfiction#bill skarsgard x reader#Best of
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