#chalet mm

[piratefishmama]

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 wasn’t there to buy drugs. The van had gotten uncomfortable pretty quickly after Eddie’s tragic realisation, and while his Uncle was definitely there, and giving Eddie a very obvious what the fuck Ed’s ‘look’ while he made them both coffee, Steve seemed pretty at ease in the place.

He didn’t 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 probably—okay he needed to stop pricing up what Steve was wearing.

Needed to stop making assumptions about him.

“You take sugar, kid?”

“Uh—yes! Yeah, uh, cream two sugars, please. Thank you.” If Steve noticed the surprise on Wayne’s face at the presence of manners well… he didn’t seem offended by it. in fact he was still pretty amazed by the mug collection. “Where’d you get all these?”

“Spent a few years’a my life as a long haul trucker before Ed’s landed on my doorstep back in the day, the road ain’t no place for a kid so I packed it in, but there’s always lil knick knacks in pit stops along the way, had people say they’d probably be worth somethin someday, bit‘a history an all that, but… that ain’t why I have em. Each one has a memory attached to it, makes somethin as mundane as a mug, precious.” 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 couldn’t stop the foot he so ungracefully stuck into his mouth however with the quip “must seem messy to you, huh?” That wiped the smile right from Steve’s perfect face. Replaced it with a little frown of confusion.

“Hm? No… no, not at all, what? What makes you think that?”

“Well, I’ve seen your house dude, it’s looks straight out of a showroom or somethin.” Couldn’t 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,

“Manners don’t cost nothin boy, I raised you better than to be a little shit to guests. The hell’s your problem?”

“I honestly have no idea.” Eddie didn’t even complain about the whack, it didn’t hurt, but it did dislodge the foot from his mouth, allowing him to level Steve and his confused face an apology “sorry man, I’m just…”

“Defensive?”

“Mmhm”

“S’fine, I get it.” And wasn’t 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. “For the record though, I like it. The collection I mean… I think I’d 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 mom’s vinyl’s and my dad’s wine.”

“Your mom has vinyl’s?” The wine collection was predictable but vinyl’s?

“Mm, up in the attic, I’ll show you sometime.” 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. “If you still wanna be seen with me after all this” an if she wouldn’t take them, best get the idea that they could still be friends after it all out in the open!

Eddie wasn’t 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 didn’t get a chance to answer though, although his mouth was open ready to speak, Wayne beat him to it. “Now, it’s none’a my business but… what do you mean by all this?” 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?

“As much as I’d love to say, ‘Steve’s invited me somewhere for a week!’ and have that be totally believable and not cause you a stress aneurysm… Wayne’s cool, Steve, you good with me talking about it?” There was obvious hesitation, more strangers who knew the riskier it could be for him, but— he nodded. He’d trust Wayne, as insane as that was, he didn’t even know Wayne, but… the man gave off a weird kind of trustworthy energy. And Eddie vouched for him so, “You know how I do that whole… date thing to freak parents out for girls? Stevie here needs my services.”

“You aint plannin on doin what I think you’re doin, are you boy? Are you out of your damn mind? Do you know how danger—”

“It’s okay!” Steve blurted cutting off the expected worry rant “it’s safe, I promise, my parents are… well… they might seem really detached from reality but—you don’t know them. I recently realised that neither do I… he’s not… gonna be freaking them out either, he’s just… playing a part to get them off my back for a while… I’m uh… I’m—” 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 he’d been okay, there’d been no danger, and maybe doing it so many times had made it easier or something because it just… came out “I’m 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, that’d be nice… I would love to do that, i’m not jazzed about the quality of the people they’re throwing at me.”

“…Your parents. The Harringtons, rich folk. Those folks… they’re safe?”

“Apparently, my dad’s 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.” Something he’d had no idea about, something that he couldn’t believe, hence why he kept bringing it up, it was insane to him, how little he actually knew his parents, how wrong he’d been about them.

How wrong everyone had been about them.

“His parents are takin him to this chalet in Canada next week, Steve thinks they’re gonna ambush him with some random person that he’ll have to spend a whole week avoiding, so… he’s hiring me to act as his boyfriend. That cool with you, Wayne?” He didn’t have to ask. Eddie was a grown adult, he could do whatever he wanted, go wherever he wanted, but… Wayne deserved to know.

“… Can I meet em before you go?”

“Of course!”

“Not a chance.”

The worst part was, they both spoke at once. And Steve’s very positive answer, happened to be louder.

Part 7

[elodiah]

WIP Wednesday

In the mood for relatively plotless softness rn, so I’m 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.

“Loki?” he used his softest voice, wary of startling him despite all the noise he’d already made.

“Mm?”

Apparently he needn’t have worried. Loki was clearly deeply preoccupied, but not quite enough to be completely oblivious.

“Why are you up, kjære?” Mobius asked gently, “You should be sleeping.”

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 he’d 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

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

RTA, speaking of pro-Sussex KK and fam, there’s something fishy imo about the Delaware-incorporated name of MM’s new ARO venture: Mama Knows Best. Whose “Mama” 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 Beyonce’s concerts. Harry going skiing with Kris’ SO. Harry allegedly zooming his Diana Awards appearance from a ski chalet on said ski trip. Kim snarking that she’s “Off to find Kate.” The rumors of the Sussexes guest appearing on the Kardashians’ new (struggling) show. Is it possible, do you think, that Mama/Momager Kris is Meghan’s (and maybe H’s 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 ‘Happy birthday Kate’ video messages on social media, giving interviews about how much she loves Kate’s style, naming products after Kate, sending Kate gifts (which KP always returned unopened), matchmaking Prince George and North West together (here’s 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 Kardashian’s 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, who’s much more Kardashian-like than Middleton-like or Windsor-like that made Kim’s royal aspirations more of a reality.

One of the things I’ve noticed about the Kardashians - Kim more particularly than the rest of them - is that they’re always looking for the next thing that will further legitimize their fame and further solidify their status as “real” A-listers instead of grifters that know how to hustle (remember, the family is only famous because they monetized Kim’s sex tape). Up until Kim married Kanye, no one really took them seriously; they were reality TV stars and WAGs. And there’s nothing wrong with that. But they’ve always wanted more and they’ve always used other people to climb up the fame ladder, legitimize their fame, and develop business opportunities.

Which is what Meghan (and Harry) are. They’re a business opportunity for the Kardashians, who’ve been slowly pivoting to more “behind the scenes” producer-type work than “on-camera” talent. They probably see Meghan as an opportunity to do more directing/producing/developing but the joke will probably be on them - they’re too business-savvy (individually and collectively) for Meghan. Meghan thinks she’s business-savvy like they are but she doesn’t come anywhere close. The primary difference between the Kardashians and Meghan is that they have follow-through, and she does not.

I don’t see the partnership lasting very long. Kris only works with people she knows and people who’ll 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 “listen to/do what other people say” problem, which is probably going to be Meghan’s downfall. She thinks she’s the expert in everything, which will 100% cause problems with Kris.

And then there’s 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.

[readyforthegarden]

It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas - JTK

Synopsis: 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: We are back with some sickening sweet Christmas and holiday cheer with our favorite guys!!

Josh’s Holiday Fic // Sam’s Holiday Fic // Danny’s 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.

“Are you sure we couldn’t have gotten that bucket of powder mix?” 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.

“Because babe,” 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. “It’s not as strong as the real stuff you make yourself. We want these to last until New Years.” 

“No, you’re gonna pick all the gumdrops off of mine by Christmas Eve, let the roof cave in, and tell me Sam did it.” you shot Jake a joking side-eye as he paused his rolling to shrug with a soft chuckle. 

“You know me too well.” 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. “Although this year I was gonna blame Rose.”

“You’re awful!” you laughed, shaking your head as you turned the mixer on, mixing up the sugary glue. “I wouldn’t believe any slander about that dog, she’s too sweet.”

“Eh, it’d be worth the try.” 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. 

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. 

“Well be prepared to lose this year, Jacob Thomas.” 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. “I have so many ideas, my gingerbread house is going to blow your mind.”

“I saw that bag of decorations you tried to hide in the back of the pantry.” Jake quirked an eyebrow at you when he straightened up. “You think all that color is gonna beat me?”

“I know it is.” you replied coolly, turning the mixer back on. “Just you wait, everyone is going to vote for mine and you’ll get a pity vote from Josh because mine blows yours out of the water.”

“The pity vote will be from Danny, first of all,” Jake argued. “And secondly, you’re the one who’s going to get the pity vote when my five-star ski chalet wins.”

“Ah, we’re going chalet this year?” you grinned as Jake revealed his secret. “Isn’t that what you did last year too?”

“Hey, and it won last year.” Jake rebutted. “Don’t fix what ain’t broke.”

“Mm, well, we’ll see if your chalet is any match for an old school classic.” 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. 

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. 

“To another Kiszka Cookie House Competition.” He raised his wine glass towards you, and you reciprocated, daintily clinging the rims together before taking your sip. 

“Competition aside, this is my favorite part of the holidays.” you told him, setting your glass on the flour covered counter. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” you nodded, coming close and wrapping your arms around Jake’s waist. “The smell of the spices with the lights, and music…it makes everything feel like home.” 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. “You make everything feel like home, Jake.” 

“It’s easy when you do the same for me.” he replied softly. “When we’re out on tour, I don’t get homesick for this place, I get homesick for you.” Jake’s 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. 

“Jake, that’s so sweet.” you pouted up at him when he pulled away. “But I’m still gonna kick your ass this year, and you can’t swoon your way out of it.”

“It was worth a shot.” Jake still kept his arm around you, holding you tight as Silver Bells started playing, Elvis’s cover. “I love this one.” he lowered his voice, matching Elvis’ 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.

“City 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,” 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. 

“Are you sure we can’t just eat the gingerbread all night?” 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. 

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. 

“Your house is going to look like a rainbow threw up on it.” he jabbed with a laugh, making you stick out your tongue at him.

“My candy cottage will be a masterpiece. Yours is going to look cliche and boring, so there.” you retorted with sass, sticking a hand on your hip. “Now stop yapping and focus on your own house.” Jake raised his hands up and started reaching for gingerbread squares. 

The both of you worked quietly, intently focused on the construction of your houses. Jake’s 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. 

As the clock ticked on, your holiday playlist looped, Jake’s soft hums occasionally filling the air as you both started decorating around the houses as the icing set and joined the cookies together. 

“All of this candy is making me hungry.” 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. “Should we order a pizza?” 

“Sure, I need to take a break and let this chocolate harden up.” Jake wiped his hands on a paper towel next to him before picking up his phone. “The usual?”

���Mm, can we get extra mushrooms this time?” Jake nodded. 

“Of course, darlin’.” 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. “Okay, temporary pause on the gingerbread to eat pizza, drink wine and watch a movie.”

“Ooh!” 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. “What movie are you thinking?”

“Mm, let’s see….how about Rudolph? Short and sweet so once we’re done we can get back to work?”

“Sounds perfect to me.” 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.

“One year,” you began, snuggled into Jake’s side, the pizza box half empty and long forgotten once you had scooched a little closer to him. “I 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.” you blushed, admitting the tale of your childhood to Jake. 

“Aww baby,” the arm he had wrapped around your shoulder pulled you tighter to him. “You’ve got such a big heart.”

“I just don’t like anyone feeling hurt or left out.” you shrugged. Jake nodded, pressing his lips to the side of your head. 

“That’s one of the many, many reasons I fell in love with you.” he murmured into your hair. “You care so much about making everyone happy, making sure they’re loved. I’ve made it my mission in life to make you feel it too.” 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.

“Here you go, Rose, a special Christmas cookie, just for you.” 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. “For being such a good girl all year.”

“She’s a good girl every year, isn’t that right?” Sam gave Rose a few pets as she munched on the treat. “Santa Paws is definitely going to spoil her rotten.”

“I’m glad, she deserves it.” you laughed. “Can’t say much for her owner, however.”

“Hey!” Sam gasped, looking taken aback, though a smile broke his faux offense. “I was very good this year!”

“That’s not what a little birdie told me…told me all about your tour shenanigans…I think some of those were definitely naughty.”

“Like what?”

“Something about a hot tub in Spokane?”

“God dam-Danny!” Sam looked around for the tally, curly headed man at the party. “He wasn’t supposed to tell you!”

“Oh Sam,” you laughed. “I’m sure Santa will leave you something, he always does.” 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 Jake’s, but as the night wore on, his steadily grew.

“Get ready to lose, my darling.” Jake mumbled in your ear, his breath scented with the tinge of whiskey and coke. “Everyone loves a chalet.”

“Oh, you’re the chalet?” Josh asked, looking up from his small plate. “I thought that was hers.” he reached into Jake’s bowl, fishing out his gumdrop and placing it into your bowl.

“Josh!” Jake scoffed. “You can’t revote once you’ve already voted!”

“Absolutely I can!” Josh proclaimed. “You guys need to label these.”

“The point is to vote for the house you like the best, not the person.” you shrugged. “But thank you for your vote.”

“Any time,” 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.

“That’s cheating.” Jake said, looking at you. “You should forfeit gracefully now.”

“Oh you wanna win by forfeit?” you asked, cocking an eyebrow. “That doesn’t seem like a very dignified way to win.” Jake sputtered for a few moments, trying to reason around your jab. “Doesn’t seem like winning will feel very victorious if you think one measly little gumdrop from your brother is gonna change the results…it looks like you’re winning so far anyway.”

“Okay fine,” Jake nodded. “But if I catch any more people switching their votes, I’m calling it.”

“Fine, if you catch them.” you turned quickly to leave, Jake placing his hands on his hips. 

“Wait, what’s that supposed to mean?!” 

“You’ll just have to stand there and watch the bowls all night to find out, won’t you?” you called with a sassy smirk over your shoulder. “Love you!”

As soon as Jake realized you’d 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.

“I think Jake was right,” you muttered to Danny. “His chalet is going to win again.”

“Hey, the bowls looked pretty even.” Danny squeezed your shoulder. “And if it helps, I voted for your candy cottage.”

“It does help, thanks Danny.” 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.

“Karen, what is your count for the chalet?” he gestured to his mother.

“Twenty-one gumdrops!” Karen announced. Everyone clapped and Jake looked triumphantly at you across the dining room. Josh hushed the small crowd, before gesturing to his father.

“Kelly, what is your count for the candy cottage?” Kelly looked around, letting the anticipation build for a moment.

“Twenty,” he announced. Jake’s victorious ‘yes!’ could be heard under his breath as you deflated. “Twenty FOUR!”

“What?!” you nearly screamed. “Don’t play games!”

“Twenty four gumdrops, read it and weep!” Sam had bent over, quickly counting the candies laid out in front of his father. “Candy cottage wins!” 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.

“Congratulations, darlin’.” he smiled softly. “A victory well fought for.”

“Thank you.” you shook his hand, giggling as he pulled you into a hug. “It was a tough battle.” 

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. 

“This year's party was the best one we’ve had, I think.” 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. 

“I do too.” you agreed. “I love throwing this party, but I like this part even more.” Jake looked at you as if you were crazy.

“What? The part where we clean up while exhausted?

“No! The part where the last person leaves, and it’s just you and me again.” you explained softly. “Sometimes when parties like that end, it feels really sad, that all that happiness and energy is gone. But with you, it’s different. I don’t feel sad that the party ended. I feel excited because I get to have you all to myself in the quiet.”

“Hmm, I like that.” Jake smiled, showing his pearly whites. “I hadn’t thought of it that way.” 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.

“Can I tell you something?”

“Sure.”

“I voted for your house.” you pulled back from Jake, someone who was always known to vote for himself in the competition. 

“Really?” he nodded. “Why?

“Because yours was better.” he shrugged simply. “And I wanted to see your face light up when you won.”

“Oh Jake!” 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.

“Merry Christmas, darlin’”

“Merry Christmas, Jake.”

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

[muutosarchive]

who was the first faceclaim that was 'ruined' for you in the rpc? why was that?

🍒 @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

[nyrarachelle-plays]

The Girls are Settling In! 

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, “mm mmmm, let me put on my shades...”)

Previously. (Safe and Sound.) | Next. (After Last Night.)

[mydyspraxiablog]

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 £12 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 🙏 had idea story but gone out my head now.

[regard-luxury]

Most Stunning And Extraordinary Watches Luxurious, Innovation And Art P4

The watch is water resistant to 300 m , in addition to being shock-, sand- and saltwater-resistant. The bronze version uses a particular alloy that has glorious resistance to corrosion, but will nonetheless develop a subtle patina over time that makes the watch even more unique. The two strap choices have a folding clasp that allows for micro-adjustments of up to 15 mm for easy wear over rashies and wetsuits. For security, the bezel is uni-directional on most sizes and bi-directional with a patented lock on the 46 mm.

Divido dials are both crafted in plain urushi colors , or copper stamped and painted by hand. XThe traditional but contemporary design of the Limited Edition Bremont Longitude marks a significant milestone on this journey. Not solely does the Longitude house the brand’s first manufactured motion from its new ENG300 movement collection but it also incorporates authentic brass from the historic Flamsteed Meridian Line on the Royal Observatory Greenwich, London. At Greenwich, the brass Flamsteed Meridian line marks the historic position trilobe nuit fantastique where the primary Astronomer Royal, John Flamsteed, made his observations and laid the foundations for correct timekeeping and navigation... XHighly refined, fantastically completed, and providing fashion and comfort throughout many wrist sizes hardly ever present in a sports activities watch, the elegant new C65 Aquitaine takes the retro diver to new peaks – and depths.

As for its hand-filled colourful traces, they characterize the liveliness of the city world as much as our rare craftsmanship. XThe Independence household takes its inspiration from the braveness it takes to do the sudden. Our passion ticks inside each trilobe nuit fantastique considered one of our unique, revolutionary, ultra-robust Independence timepieces. These watches are designed for the explorer who feels most at house within the “my life, my way” ethos whereas confidently pursuing their passion...

The entire Freedom 60 assortment, including these new GMT models, was designed for trailblazers who, like everyone at NORQAIN, enjoy the freedom they expertise once they take the street much less travelled... XAs an indication of its commitment to supporting Only Watch and the Monegasque Muscular Dystrophy Association , Krayon has created a special timepiece for collectors and lovers of uncommon refinements who seek a singular complication. Anywhere Only Watch 2021 Edition indicates the time of dawn and sunset at the precise location chosen by the consumer – anywhere in the world... XWhether dashing trilobe nuit fantastique down a slope or just lounging beside a hearth in a comfy chalet, the DEFY Classic Fusalp brings a cosmic radiance to the winter wonderland. Ideally proportioned as a unisex sport-chic watch that stands out with its symmetric open dial that mixes the 2 universes of the manufacturers, by retaining the signature ZENITH five-pointed star while incorporating a snowflake into its design... To take possession of life passionately.To quiver with refinement, to live and to speak in confidence to one’s future.To speak in confidence to the world around us with new perspectives.Live each minute without desirous to grasp them!

X...To reinvent its watch every morning without dropping its own characteristics, ‘‘Les Matinaux’’, 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, that’s what this watch has been in a place to capture in an impressive and unusual “Squround” format.

[noconcessions]

[toutelesrosesdumonde]

Mms Folie, pensé...

-10/04/20-

Parfois nous nous demandons si ce monde vaux vraiment la peine d’y vivre. Parfois je me demande si, il ne serait pas mieux pour moi et notre santé mental d’aller vivre dans les montagne, un petit chalet isolé loin de tous.

[geor13gia13]

Another few minutes passed. 

Another few sips of whiskey were had. 

Another few things remained unsaid.

“Arrows Through Archer” by Nash Summers

[tongue-like-a-razor]

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

“Chicken is good,” Bradley says to his dinner plate.

Across the table, your aunt makes an enthusiastic sound in agreement and continues chewing.

“Delicious,” you respond curtly.

Bradley looks over at you, so you turn your head to meet his gaze. “Yours is better, darling,” he says, feigning a cordial tone, but you can see past the charade. He’s just as angry with you as you are with him.

“Her mushroom stuffed chicken is divine,” your mother chimes in.

“It’s her specialty,” Bradley says, quoting a line from the notes you’d given him to prepare for the weekend because, obviously, he’s 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.

“Does Bradley cook?” your aunt asks, watching the two of you with interest.

You glance at her in alarm, unsure how to respond since you don’t know the answer. You could make something up; nobody would know any better, but somehow that seems more dishonest than pretending he’s your boyfriend.

“I do, actually,” Bradley intervenes. You look at him gratefully and he returns your gaze with a slight nod. “Y/N is particularly fond of my shepherd’s pie.”

Your mother cringes at Bradley. “Y/N hates ground meat. She won’t even eat burgers.”

Bradley stares at your mother, speechless for a moment, while you try to keep your composure despite the rapidly encroaching panic.

“It’s uh… vegetarian,” he says quickly.

“Vegetarian shepherd’s pie?” your aunt asks. “Never heard of such a thing.”

“Mm-hm.” You start to nod vigorously. “It’s so good.”

“What do you make it with?” your mother asks and everybody at the table seems farcically fascinated with the concept of vegetarian shepherd’s pie.

You feel like the air is being sucked from your lungs as you watch Bradley purse his lips while he stalls. “Bradley, I totally forgot to bring my shawl from the chalet and I’m cold,” you say.

Bradley raises his eyebrows at you and you know exactly what he’s thinking: that it’s about a million degrees in this place. “Here.” He starts shrugging off his suit jacket and you nearly groan because he must know that you’re not actually cold.

You give him a pointed look as he starts to drape the jacket over your shoulders. “I’d really prefer my shawl,” you say, trying to keep the severity out of your tone.

“Oh, don’t make him go all the way back to the rooms, Y/N,” your aunt says sympathetically. Then, she adds, “He still has to tell us about this shepherd’s pie. I wouldn’t mind grabbing the recipe.” She beams at him.

“It’s uh,” Bradley says, “exactly like the one with meat. Except, you know, without it.” Bradley responds uneasily, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand.

“There’s got to be more to it.” Your mother narrows her eyes. “Is it a secret?”

“What? No, of course not!” Bradley chuckles. Then, he says, “Oh! I love this song!” He jumps up from his chair. “Come on, Y/N. Let’s dance!”

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. “I’m actually not a huge fan of” –

But Bradley doesn’t 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.

“Don’t you worry,” your grandmother says, leaning down to pick up the jacket and hanging it over the back of your chair. “Go have fun, you two.”

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 you’re 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. He’s 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. “Ooh baby, I love your way.” 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 it’s 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 you’ve been upset with him, and your irritation seems hardly relevant at all, especially considering the lengths to which he’s 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, “I wanna tell you I love your way, everyday. I wanna be with you night and day.”

When the next song comes on, other guests begin to step out onto the dance floor. “Might be safer to just stay out here,” he says, shrugging.

You nod. “Chicken wasn’t very good anyway,” you say, thinking of your half-finished dinnerplate.

He laughs. “Here’s hoping the cake will be chocolate,” 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 sister’s smiling face. She leans in to whisper in your ear, “You guys look super cute together!”

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, it’s all a farce. Your feelings toward Bradley might be genuine, but Bradley is here as your friend. And he’s 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 girl’s hands and starts twirling her around with a giant smile on his face. He seems pleased that she’s 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 Bradley’s 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 you’d 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.

“You’re such a goof,” 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. “Your turn,” 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. “I like him,” she says.

You turn to her in surprise.

“Don’t look so shocked,” she says. “I think he’s perfect for you.”

“More perfect than Steven?” you ask pointedly.

“Eh,” your aunt shrugs. “I never cared for Steven.”

“But he’s a doctor!” you exclaim in mock outrage, trying to emulate your mother’s tone when she’d learned of your decision to break up.

Your aunt chuckles. “Steven is a pompous ass.”

“Can you tell my mother that?”

Your aunt turns to face you. “I’ve never seen you look at Steven the way you look at Bradley.”

You bite your lip, wondering if she might also have noticed the way Bradley looks at you when you aren’t paying attention. But you can’t 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 Bradley’s 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.

“What does it mean?” he asks as he approaches you.

“Well,” you say. “Obviously it means that Steven and I are meant to be and that we’ll be getting married and having a bunch of babies.”

Bradley watches you impassively. “You’re funny,” he says. You smile at him mildly and he steps closer, wrapping his arm around you. “He’ll have to get past me first,” he mutters, and his words inspire yet another flutter in your gut that leaves you feeling buzzed.

But the sensation is interrupted by Steven’s arrogant drawl. “Shall we?” he says, and you turn to see him standing right behind you. “They’re waiting for us.”

You narrow your eyes at him as Bradley’s grip tightens on your hip. “Who’s waiting for us?”

“It’s customary for the woman who catches the bouquet and the man who catches the garter to dance,” 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. “It’s just a dance,” he says, seeing the discomfort on your face. “Don’t let him get to you.”

You nod, releasing a wavering sigh, and turn toward Steven. “Let’s get this over with,” you say.

Steven grins at you. “That’s the spirit,” 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. “Feels like old times,” he says.

“Not really,” you respond coldly, trying to regain some space between your bodies.

“Don’t tell me you’re serious about this aviator,” he says.

You glance up at him indignantly. “Of course, I’m serious about him. I wouldn’t have brought him to my sister’s wedding if I weren’t.”

He chuckles. “You forget that I know you very well,” he says.

You swallow, wondering what he’s getting at.

Steven eyes you with a devious smirk. “He’s not your boyfriend,” he says.

“Excuse me?” you say, offended and anxious in equal measure.

He chuckles. “Sure, maybe he’s a friend,” he says, shrugging. “But that dude is not dating you.”

“What are you talking about?” You want to ask how he could tell, but you don’t want to give anything away.

“The closest you have gotten to each other is a quick hug here and there. You look like you’re afraid to touch him,” he says. “So, the question is, why did you feel the need to bring him? You didn’t know I’d be here, so it wasn’t to make me jealous.”

“You’ve got it wrong,” you scoff.

He raises his eyebrows. “It’s your mom, isn’t it? She’s pushing you to start dating again. She’s always been a big fan of mine.”

You roll your eyes. “Stop talking, Steven.”

Steven brings his face closer to yours. “Making me jealous is just an added benefit, isn’t it? Well, I’m here to tell you that it worked. Even if you aren’t actually dating the guy.”

“I couldn’t care less how you feel about my relationship,” you respond, gritting your teeth.

Steven chuckles. “‘Relationship’,” he repeats, using his right hand to make air quotes.

You’re seething so much that your head starts to hurt and, just as you’re about to walk away from him, you feel a soft touch along your shoulder blade. Bradley steps around you, giving Steven an icy look. “I can take over from here, Steven,” 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 doesn’t wait for him to respond; he takes your hand out of Steven’s and leads you away.

You raise your eyebrows as Steven stands alone in the middle of the floor, looking around awkwardly. Meanwhile, you feel Bradley’s 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.

“Bradley,” you say quietly.

“Hm?”

You glance up at him anxiously. “He knows,” you say. “Steven knows.”

“Knows what?” he asks.

You bite your lip. “That you’re not really my boyfriend. That all of this is fake.”

Bradley makes a skeptical face. “Did you tell him?”

“Of course not! He guessed.”

Bradley chuckles. “How?”

You shrug. “Apparently, we’re not affectionate enough.”

Bradley narrows his eyes, one corner of his mouth curling upward slightly. “What are you proposing?”

“I’m not proposing anything! I’m saying, the jig is up and we’re fucked,” you whisper feverishly. “Oh god, he’s talking to my mother. He’s going to tell her!”

Bradley lets out a slow sigh and pulls you a tad closer. “Hey,” he says. “There’s nothing to tell. Remember what I said? Don’t let him get to you.”

You glance up into Bradley’s 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 can’t even kiss him.

As if on cue, Bradley says in a low voice, “You know, there is a way we can be more convincing as a couple.”

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. Bradley’s eyebrows twitch as a mystified expression passes fleetingly over his features. You note the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallows uneasily; the rapid rise and fall of his chest as his face nears yours.

“What do you think?” he mutters, so close now that the tip of his nose brushes against the tip of yours.

There’s so much commotion in your chest, you feel like your ribs might rupture trying to keep it contained. “Uh,” you breathe, not confident you can articulate a more complex sound. You hope that his question is rhetorical in nature and that he’s 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 Bradley’s 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 – nay, aching – 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 aren’t 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? You’ve just done what any normal couple would do. Nobody knows how the moment transported you, how it has altered you.

Then, Bradley speaks. “Do you think they’ll miss us?”

“What?” you breathe, your foreheads still together as you watch his mouth move.

He bites into his lip. “If we leave now,” he says. “Will they notice we’re gone?”

Your heart starts to hammer once again. “What about the cake?” you ask.

“The cake?” he says, and you feel the skin of his forehead wrinkle as he furrows his brows.

“What if it’s chocolate?” you ask.

Bradley’s mouth curls into an amused smile. “Could be diamond for all I care.”

“That would be tough on the teeth.” You make a grimace to lighten the mood but, on the inside, you’re crumbling. Bradley wants to leave. He wants to leave so he isn’t 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 you’re far too close to see anything meaningful anymore anyway. “I could give a fuck about the cake, Y/N,” 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

@whitewolfsbitch

@beebslebobs

@gretagerwigsmuse

@mak-32

@strangunddurm

@desert-fern

@maverick-wingman

@jamielovesbucky

@n3ssm0nique

@misshoneypaper

@roosterscockpit

@jakexfmc

@wintercap89

@gracielou0518

@averyhotchner

@bxwitched

@yeetzel

@xoxabs88xox

@cynisarmy

@kwanimations

@onlygetaway

@hope-love-equality2

@shanimallina87

@ijustwantedplums

@oliviah-25

@gayforsteve

@gingerbreadandpaper

@vemonbby

@sebastianstansimp

@alexxavicry

@spn-marvel-nerd

@army24--7

@emmy626

@criminalyetminimal

@candid-confetti

@avoirlecoupdefoudre

@thefandomimagines

@moony-artemis

@my-secret-life-1

@roostereads

@currentlybradshaw

@whisperofsong

[jerseydeanne]

“The Sun: Prince Andrew’s pay-off to sex accuser Virginia Giuffre ‘was as little as £3m’ despite reports of £12m”

Well, if the chalet sold for the asking price of £17 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 😜💋

[sparreaux]

CHOOSE WISELY

Anchovy essence – Thick, oily sauce of pounded anchovies and spices

Avgolemono – Egg-lemon sauce or soup

Avocado sauce – Sauce prepared using avocado as a primary ingredient

Barbecue sauce – Sauce used as a marinade, basting, topping or condiment[1]

Bread sauce – Sauce made with milk and bread crumbs

Cheese sauce – Sauce made with cheese

Cocktail sauce – Condiment

Coffee sauce

Corn sauce

Coulis – Thin sauce made from puréed and strained vegetables or fruits

Duck sauce – American Chinese condiment with a translucent orange appearance

Egusi sauce

Fry sauce – Sauce used as a condiment often served with fries

Mahyawa

Mignonette sauce – Condiment served with oysters

Mint sauce – Sauce made of chopped mint

Mushroom ketchup – Style of ketchup

Normande sauce

Pan sauce

Peppercorn sauce

Rainbow sauce – Type of culinary sauce

Chalet sauce

Ravigote sauce

Romesco

Salad dressing – Food mixture, served chilled or at room temperature

Salsa (salsa roja)

Satsebeli

Sauce andalouse

Sauce aurore – a velouté sauce flavored with tomato[2]

Sauce bercy

Sauce poulette – prepared using mushrooms and lemon[3]

Sauce vin blanc

Sofrito – Cooked vegetable foundation for cooking

Sour cream sauce

Steak sauce – Brown sauce for seasoning of steaks

Sweet chili sauce – Condiment primarily used as a dip

Tomato sauce – Sauce made primarily from tomatoes

Vinaigrette – Sauce made from oil and vinegar and commonly used as a salad dressing

Wine sauce

Worcestershire sauce – English fermented condiment

Mm duck sauce

[xaphrin]

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. 

She didn’t 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 hadn’t. 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. 

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 didn’t say anything. 

“I’m thinking Thai for dinner. Gang Garee?” He ran his fingers through his hair, shaking out a few raindrops. “Or we can eat the leftover spaghetti you made last night… it was mostly edible.” 

Her snarl turned into a scowl, and she crossed her arms over her chest. “Richard Grayson.”

“Oh. My full name. I must be in trouble.” He walked up to her and glanced down at the pamphlets, still spread along the table. A knowing smile pulled at his mouth. “I see you got my gifts…” He reached down and grabbed the pamphlet for the Rockies. “I’m leaning more towards the mountains… a chalet hidden from everyone. No cell phone service. Hot tub.” His grin widened.

Raven continued to glare. “I cannot take time off.” 

“Yes, you can.” 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 didn’t mean he wouldn’t 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. 

“I cannot. Kon and Cassie just got recruited to the team, and their discipline is abhorrent. I have to be here to make sure they don’t destroy half the city because they can’t control themselves.” Raven’s voice was low and firm. “Right now is not a good time to take off.”

“Yeah?” Dick lifted an eyebrow and stared into her face. “It’s never a good time. You’ve always got something going on. Something that needs your attention. Another fire you need to put out. You don’t give yourself enough time for you.” He reached down and grabbed the pamphlet for the Rockies again, pushing it towards her. “Next week. You’re packing your bags and you’re going to stay all week in a mountain chalet with me, where we will sit in a hot tub and watch the snow fall.” 

“You don’t get to dictate that.” Raven’s voice was dripping venom. 

“I do now.” He dropped the pamphlet back on the table. “I already talked to Vic and Donna. They’re ready to step into your place for a week and make sure your team doesn’t obliterate the city while you’re gone.” 

“Dick… you don’t get to just upend my life because you think it’s necessary.” 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. 

“You haven’t taken a vacation in three years, Raven. You haven’t even taken a day off in two. And we haven’t had sex in a month. You’re overworked, underpaid, and everyone relies far too much on you.” His lips twitched. “I barely see you right now, and I’m married to you. I just want to spend time with you… preferably in a hot tub in the mountains, but I’ll take whatever I can get at this point.”

Guilt twisted in Raven’s chest, and she looked away from Dick’s striking blue eyes. Gods. She hated it when he was right. It annoyed her to no end. She had been so busy that she hadn’t 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 didn’t take time to herself, she was going to hurt someone, and probably herself too. 

“Vacation.” 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. “A hot tub in the mountains, staring at the night sky… making love by a roaring fire.” He kissed along her temple to her ear. “All day long.”

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. “I hate it when you’re right.”

He laughed and his hands tightened on her waist. “Yeah?”

Raven leaned up and kissed along the sharp line of his jaw. “Should we start our vacation early? I feel like I’m out of practice when it comes to making love.”

His grin widened. “Oh?”

“Mm.” Her hand slid down the front of his chest, flicking open the buttons on his uniform. “I think I might need to go a few rounds before I remember how.”

“Well…” 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. “Good thing you have a willing partner. I’m happy to help you practice.”

Raven just pulled him down for a kiss, and let herself enjoy a few blissful moments of peace. 

[ill-skillsgard]

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. I’ve been into the idea of a very loving, compassionate Daddy who only wants to protect and spoil you. DDLG themes ahead...

+

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 it—drew 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."