#fliration

[it-happened-one-fic]

Might've Walked Slower - Floyd

Author Notes: So, I was actually planning on posting a different fic today, but then the Stitch even came out today so I decided Floyd would get a fic posted today instead. I've actually had this written for a little bit, but it's been undergoing polishing and gathering dust in my google docs. I had fun writing and working on this one, though I have to admit it really doesn't have any specific source of inspiration beyond NRC having an old building and me wondering if there were secret passageways. As per usual, reader is gender-neutral. I hope you enjoy!

Type: Gender-neutral reader/ sfw/ fluff/ flirtation

Word count: 1685

It started the same way a great many things at NRC seemed to start. With a task from Crowley.

To be fair, this task wasn’t particularly difficult or even that annoying. It was just returning some books to the school library for him.

The only trouble came in the form of a bored Floyd Leech, who was currently lurking in the library for unknown reasons. Luckily, Floyd had thus far opted to sit and boredly watch as you shelved books once he’d discovered your presence didn’t mean anything exciting.

But nothing could stay simple in NRC, and today served as still more evidence for that fact.

You’d simply put one hand down on a strangely empty shelf to support yourself while you stretched upwards to place a book on a still higher shelf. And that was when everything went horribly wrong.

You leaned forward ever so slightly more, frowning as you stretched just a little bit more, and all at once the shelf let out a horrible groaning sound and gave way. Your eyes widened, and you realized exactly what was going to happen.

You plummeted forward with a shriek that had Floyd jerking upright from his previously relaxed position of stretching his upper body across the top of a table, “Shrimpy?!”

His voice sounded equal parts startled and concerned, but you paid him little mind as you scrambled, catching yourself against a web-coated wall as you tumbled through where the bookshelf had just been. Your shoulder slamming hard against the cold stone in a way that promised you would have some impressive bruises tomorrow morning.

You groaned slightly as you pushed yourself back, your uninjured arm wrapping around your body so that you could press a hand to your now-throbbing shoulder. But all thoughts of how much that was going to hurt tomorrow fled as you stared at the gaping hole in the wall that was now in front of you.

You stared in quiet horror at the hole before your brain kicked into gear, noting that the edges of the opening were smooth and that this area had obviously been built this way to let the bookshelf swing open like a demented door to reveal the tunnel lined with sconces that hung on the filthy walls.

Though you’d initially thought you’d somehow caused the entire bookcase to topple, that was obviously not the case. Instead, it looked like you’d managed to somehow trigger a mechanism that had opened some sort of hidden door to a passageway that you were now standing in the entrance of.

“Shrimpy, are you…” Floyd trailed off from where he’d appeared behind you as he beheld the darkened path you’d uncovered.

Both of you stood in silence, staring down the stone tunnel whose walls bore unlit sconces before giving way into a deep darkness. You slowly stood as you continued to stare into the darkness from next to Floyd. Wondering what, exactly, this passage was and where it led.

“What have you found this time, Shrimpy?” Floyd’s amused voice snapped you out of your silent gaping, and you shot him a look only to find him staring into the darkness with sparkling eyes that spoke of an emotion that one should always be wary of if it were coming from Floyd. 

Excitement.

With a simple gesture that was not unlike snapping his fingers, magic shot out from where the young man stood, and flames began to flicker in the sconces as he stepped past you into the passageway. Before you could say anything, he’d already reached back and wrapped one hand around your wrist with a smooth rolling motion of his long fingers. 

“Floyd, wai-” You were cut off by him giving you a slight tug and pulling you into the tunnel-like space with him. He was already grinning in a way that told you that you were probably going to be stuck going with him no matter what you said.

“Come on~ it’ll be fun,” His eyes were alight, and the yellow one had a slight glow to it that reminded you of the deep-sea fish that used lights to tempt prey in closer. 

And, in some ways, it was tempting to check out the tunnel-like passage you’d discovered. After all, just finding it brought to light numerous questions. 

Were there more? What was it for? And how old was NRC anyway if it had hidden passageways like this?

You hesitated though, glancing back towards the library as your freehand fell away from your shoulder before Floyd’s sing-songy voice came from far closer than it had been before, telling you he’d stepped closer to you, “Don’t you wanna know where it leads~?”

You looked back towards him, finding that he had indeed stepped closer and was now looking at you, still holding onto your wrist and smiling in a way that told you he knew he was going to win. Because, unfortunately, you were curious about this hidden passage that you’d discovered.

“Just for a little while. I’m not spending all day and night exploring some creepy path with you,” Your tone was firm, but still drew a giggle from the tall young man who now turned to lead you down the path. His hand sliding down until your hands were interlocked.

“It's not creepy, just a little dark. Kind of like home,” You all but snorted at his utterly relaxed demeanor. Of course he wouldn’t find previously secret, web-encrusted tunnels lit only by widely spaced sconces creepy.

But then there was no telling what he was used to seeing from his time living under the sea. Creepy might be an everyday commodity for him. And he had said it was sort of like his home….

When you didn’t actually respond as you glanced around at your surroundings, he twisted, looking back at you with an amused, almost mocking grin, “Aw, don’t tell me you’re afraid of the dark, Shrimpy~”

“Hardly, I just tend to be wary of places that strike me as fishy,” If anything, your words seemed to delight him further as he tugged you up closer to him so that you were walking side by side as he leaned towards you.

“Don’t worry. I’m way more fishy than anything that’ll be in here,” He winked in a way that had you rolling your eyes, but not pulling away from him even as he giggled. Because, for better or worse, having Floyd with you while exploring some dark hole in a magical school was far better than being alone.

After all, he could probably take on anything you found.

Floyd stopped, tugging you to a stop by simply not letting you pull him with you as you came to the edge of the set of stairs. 

Glancing back, you noticed him tilting his head with a thoughtful expression before he met your gaze and smiled teasingly once more, “Reckon it goes to the dungeon?”

You couldn’t stop the snort that came from your throat as you shook your head, “Why would a school have a dungeon?”

He shrugged, staring down the stone steps and soon guiding you down with him as he kept lighting sconces as you approached them, and amusingly, it made you wonder if he really was worried that you were afraid of the dark, “Don’t know, maybe for bad kiddies?”

“Shouldn’t most of the school, including you, be down here then?” Your wry words had him snickering even as you pondered where the staircase led. 

You tilted your head as you carefully followed Floyd down the stone staircase, “Has this place always been a school?”

Floyd gave you a sideways glance before shrugging in a perfectly nonchalant manner, “Don’t know. You’d have to ask one of the history buffs about that.”

Your mind briefly flickered to Malleus’s analysis of the gargoyles on every building on the campus before you dismissed the thought with a shrug, “Either way, I hope this staircase ends with a door out of here.”

“Aw, you aren’t enjoying our date?” You grinned despite yourself at Floyd’s potentially faux pout.

“I didn’t realize this was a date?” You glanced up, still smiling, at Floyd in time to watch as he briefly went wide-eyed before recovering with record timing.

“You think I just casually take all cuties down some potentially forbidden tunnel?” Floyd’s grin was perfectly shameless, but it had laughter bubbling out of you as you shook your head at his antics.

And a large part of you couldn’t believe that you were slowly slipping into the all-too-obvious trap of flirting with Floyd. But here you were, and in no way were you uncomfortable.

In fact, despite yourself and the environment, you were perfectly enjoying your little jaunt through this web-encrusted passage. And you had a sneaking suspicion that the sole reason you were having fun was the young man next to you.

Looking ahead, you could indeed see a door at the foot of the stairs, no doubt the exit to the lengthy tunnel, “How about next time you tell me we’re on a date before whisking me off down some dark tunnel? I might’ve walked slower.”

You could’ve sworn his eyes were sparkling as he grinned at both you and your words before he turned to look at the door, “Well, let’s see where our secret path leads.”

With that, he pushed open the door, scaring the ghosts on the other sides and letting the scent of cooking food spill into the passageway. Your new location could be in only one place. The kitchen.

Floyd was laughing as the two of you entered the hot room filled with now flustered spirits, but before he let go of your hand, he tugged you closer to him and leaned down to whisper in your ear, “Next time you go exploring, make sure to tell me.”

You looked up to see him grinning at you, utterly delighted by the happenings of the day and a long way off from the bored Floyd of earlier as he winked at you, “I’ve got to hold you to walking slower on our next date.”

[ir-abelas-vhenan]

I'm always interested in analyses that portray a romanced Solas as a predatory hee hee trickster god manipulating a young and impressionable Lavellan into falling for him and if that's your world state go ahead and live your truth b/c it's frankly none of my business, but I sincerely think there are those who forget that for a lot of people, a romanced Lavellan is (with all due respect to my own Solasmancing Inquisitor Rielle Lavelllan) batshit crazy. Having her boyfriend turn out to be a wolf god is honestly the least of her problems but oh boy is she unafraid to become one to fix this mess.

This is a woman who woke up in a dungeon with a glowing hand, figured out she could fix the world, and thought "fuck it, it's not like I'll have anything else better to do if Corypheus sticks around. Also. Everyone here kind of looks like they want to kill me, so maybe I'll stick with the protective powers that be for a minute." And then all of five seconds later she gets her hand snatched by a sketchy elven apostate who knows exactly what to do with her shiny new powers and cannot stop himself from having a Mr. Darcy level hand-flex after he lets it go (in my heart and soul this happens just out of the camera's gaze) and goes "hmm maybe there's something to be said for this world saving thing."

This is a woman who brought an entire fucking avalanche down on herself and three of her closest friends (and I do mean closest as in physical proximity, she doesn't know these people who are looking at her like she's Thedas' Next Top Idol) because even if it killed her it was the proper middle finger to send to the wannabe god bringing his army tap-dancing down the mountain pass towards her on the one night she had scheduled off to celebrate finally taking a W.

This is a woman going Take 2 Electric Boogaloo on waking up with no idea where she is and learning she was successful in spite-dragging herself up a different fucking mountain in a blizzard. Except now everyone is fighting wait nope now they're Kumbaya-ing a song Andraste's Herald should really probably be familiar with whoops, oh thank God, time for a side convo with the same apostate who's been trying to turn her entire life into a history class only for her to dive in headfirst (much to his initial abject horror) and get that good good discourse she needs since she can't go around arguing with everyone else like she wants to. "The orb is ours." You know what? Of course it is. But if they need the world saved from an elven oopsie, who better to right things than an elf? Fuck it, we ball.

This is a woman who misses being close to nature and goes positively feral at Skyhold, yeeting herself over balconies and banisters and turning the ancient fortress into her personal parkour playground because she's got energy to work off and shit to do, and if the path of least resistance to hunt down everyone she needs to talk to is coincidentally the same path that will absolutely wreck her knees by the time she's sixty, that's just how it has to be.

This is a woman who finds herself back at Haven with a man she's found it possible to be unfetteringly unabashedly herself with and thinks, "hey, maybe there could be more than the flirations we've exchanged over heated discussions and philosophical deep-dives, maybe I can have just one smooch as a treat." And when she feels her slowly unfurling passion reciprocated only to be shut down? She resolves herself to fight for this fledgling love and all the fade tongue that comes with it. This is a woman who gets the tiniest glimpse of what a retirement plan might look like after this whole saving the mortal world thing and buys all the way in.

This is a woman who has Grey Wardens to save from themselves, an empire trying to self-cannibalize, and still finds the time to go rescue a spirit because she, as a fellow comrade caught up in this mess, knows damn well that no innocent deserves to suffer if she can help it while she's got this insane amount of power she never asked for. And if that happens to lead to the man she feels safe enough to nap on the library couches with confessing at last the feelings she knows he's been smothering beneath his all-too-collected surface? Yeah, she'll take that W.

This is a woman who gets absolutely blasted head-over-ass into the fade and goes "honestly things were going a little TOO well." This is a woman who sneaks a peak at the closest fears of the companions she's come to know and love and goes "not on my fucking watch." This is a woman who sees that the man she forces herself to learn the old language for, her vhenan, fears being alone more than anything in the entire knowing world and resolves herself to ensuring it never comes to pass.

This is a woman who gets the opportunity to shape the government of a straight up country and runs around collecting wooden fucking halla in a palace full of elven servants with no time to dwell on that particularly cruel irony because out here it's scheme or be schemed. This a woman who collapses against a balcony railing after putting out some of the sickest literal and metaphorical dance moves The Game has ever seen, resigned to bear her ever-increasing burdens alone, only to find her heart and his horrible horrible hat extending a hand, promising her that if he is not alone, then neither is she.

Like, do you feel me here?

And then he dares to think something as sudden and damning as the truth is enough to keep her away? The queen of tough conversations and tougher choices? No, no, dear readers who have made it this far into my descent into madness.

Inquisitor Lavellan is a master-class in encouraging the odds against her to fuck around and find out. She is a rift-mending false-god-bashing politcally savvy terror upon all of Thedas. Solas (and all of the living breathing world) is lucky she took time out of her busy schedule to notice the way his smile softens when talking about spirits or appreciate the fluidity of his form when they're obliterating venatori out in the field. This man cradled her cheeks in his shaking hands, looked into weary and wide eyes and called her beautiful, and had the audacity to steal her heart before trying to peace out and take it with him.

If she's got to track down a real god this time and frog march him into the fade to reclaim both her heart and the future she fought for because all he wants to do is launch himself like a meteor towards achieving his greatest fear, if she has to spend hours lecturing him on the sheer audacity of his ass while spirits float by and realize they're grateful they never had the chance to take on a body and subject themselves to a verbal lashing this brutal, if she has to do cartwheels around him while dropping all sorts of sweet nothings in the language she is now quite proficient in until he gets it through his luminous gleaming skull that when she said "var lath vir suledin" my girl meant it? Then that's what she's going to do.

"I wish it could, vhenan."

Oh it's going to, buddy. Buckle up to get wrecked, to get absolutely loved and cherished you fool, because Inquisitor Lavellan is not the Dread Wolf's prey, she's his hunter.

[joostsblog]

caught in the middle ~ a Ski Aggu x reader & Joost Klein x reader series [masterlist]

Pairing: Ski Aggu x female!reader & Joost Klein x female!reader

Description: After some flirations your friendship with Aggu suddenly turns sexual. But things aren't so simple as they seem. After all your crush on your friend Joost doesn't seem to quite go away still.

Total series word count: 11k

Warnings: rpf, not proofread, smut in some chapters, check chapters for individual warnings that may apply

part one: picnic day // part two: fingers intertwined // part three: spinning // part four: casual //part five: guilty as sin? // part six: too much // part seven: when we are together

based on requests: x x x x

[mental69er]

Okay but the thought of Victoria Neuman falling in love with the reader who is a retired ballerina that teaches lessons but is also Zoe's ballet teacher and favorite ballerina before they retired has been bouncing around in my brain.

content: sfw, ballerina reader, fluff piece, short

You only knew her as Zoe's mother. The put together woman in designer suits that picked up her daughter in a black car with a driver that opened the doors for them.

You didn't bother to inquire about what she did for work. Her face was plastered all over the TVs as elections drew near. A lot of your clients were wealthy or famous, bringing their children to you to learn ballet.

You had been a prodigy in it, learning dance moves before you could even form a proper sentence. Your rise to fame and acclaim had been fast, skyrocketing you into the stratosphere before it all came crashing down. Ballet was not easy on the body, especially not on such a young one that was still developing.

It was why you had to retire professionally, only teaching the occasional ballet class if there were enough clients on the roster. Still, you were quite famous and it wasn't odd that many in the upper echelons knew who you were.

What was odd though, was Victoria's interest in you.

You specifically did not stay and chat with parents, knowing they were busy, or wanting to avoid the general superficiality in which these people operated. Victoria always went out of her way to talk to you after class was over, or if she could catch you alone, before class.

Her questions were kind, polite, and yet her eyes were probbing. Undressing you, trying to dive in your mind and understand you. It wasn't the first time you'd seen hunger like this on another's face, her's was merely better guarded. When you had been younger, less broken, many men had wanted you like their own personal doll.

You had never given in. But it had been years since you'd last felt prized, like you weren't an old discarded toy.

Still, you were wary. Carefully dancing around her flirations and inquisitive nature, waiting her out until Zoe's lessons would end for the semester.

With each gradual passing week, you could see Victoria becoming more and more frustrated by her lack of progress. The woman was hell bent on getting closer to you.

"You know, I used to want to be a ballerina too."

You couldn't help but arch an eyebrow in shock. "Really?"

"I was a bit too rooted in my major in college to suddenly switch to it. But I did wonder what it would be like to move with such grace, with such passion as you did." She said, chuckling warmly to herself. "You move your body so well." The last part was said in a slightly lower tone that had your stomach flipping.

"Zoe ended up watching some of your performances and wanted to try ballet too. I couldn't deny her it the same way I denied myself. And now here we are," Victoria said.

"Here we are, " you repeated.

"You should give Zoe private lessons," she said, and you knew what she was angling for. It was all a cover to have you without the distractions of others.

"I don't do private lessons."

"You should. I pay alot," Victoria said, tone turning serious. Her brown eyes were fixated on you and she stepped in closer. You couldn't find it in you to step back. "Think about it." She took out a card from her inner pocket. You took it and she stepped away, going back to her car where Zoe was waiting for her.

You sighed. This looked to be Victoria's private number on the card. You thumbed it thoughtfully and watched as her car pulled away.

Did you dare indulge in the president elect's whims?

[badwolfrunning]

Also also he got called out on this MANY times before. My personal faves are City On the Edge of Forever when they first encounter Edith Keeler and he tries to lay on the charm she just goes;

"A lie is a terrible way to begin a conversation."

and Catspaw:

Syliva: "You are using me! You hold me in your arms and there is no fire in your mind! You're trying to deceive me! It's here like words on a page! You are using me!"

Kirk: "And why not?!! You've been using me and my crew!!"

Basically: "You played me!" "Uh yeah bitch, you started the game!"

2x22 - By Any Other Name

[invisiblequeen]

For @cawthorntales 's Laandgrafb BC: May I introduce...Kasen Prince?

Name: Kasen Prince

Age: Young Adult

Pronouns: He/Him

Orientation: Homosexual

Occupation: Influencer

Traits: Self-Absored, Loves Paparazzi, Cultured, Festive, Househusband

Aspiration: "Trophy Wife"

Likes: Pink, White, Red, Compliments, Fliration, Malicious Interactions, Gossip, Dancing, Mixology, Cooking, Fitness, Summer Strut Music, Pop Music, Americana Music, Polished Fashion, Preppy Fashion, Romance Enthusiasts, Egotistical Sims, Argumentative Sims

Dislikes: Purple, Green, Pranks, Deception, Complaints, Small Talk, Horse Riding, Baking, Fishing, Gardening, Singer-Songwriter Music, METAL MUSIC, Easy Listening Music, Boho Fashion, Country Fashion, Pessimistic Sims, Ambitionless Sims, Cerebal Sims

Kasen is an upcoming influencer with a knack for cosmetics and botox. He started out with simple makeup tutorials until one of his storytime videos went viral and caught the attention of several brands looking for exposure. Now, he's a lifestyle-tuber with a whole new face and a whole new outlook on life: "Why spend mine, when I can spend yours?"

So seeing this Malcolm Laandgraab dude looking for a partner is the sign Kasen's been waiting for. Finally, a cute rich guy who can pamper and spoil him the way he deserves, and all he'll have to do is put this plastic body to good use? Game. On.

WHAT DO WE THINK, @cawthorntales??

[sevensoulmates]

okay some things. tim choosing to call buck and eddie dynamic a coupling is a choice. also friendship is a core of that coupling, that's literally not platonic. it's saying friendship is the core of them, even when they get together. but beside the point tim singles out that he's had a lot of fun writing the buck and eddie dynamic this season. why just buck and eddie and we know tim wrote episode 6 which i'm starting to honestly think something happens between buck and eddie at the bachelor party and that causes a shit ton of angst because when tim means fun he means pain for us. oh also that article screams eddie breaks up with marisol in episode 5.

Like, sure, there's some plausible deniability to the word "coupling" but all of it in context with each other just makes it feel odd, ya know? But the articles aside, it's the amalgamation of things that feels like something's shifted.

I'm just firmly on the train that something is deepening with Buck and Eddie this season, whether that be their bond as co-parents, or shifting their dynamic to finally explore how they might be romantically. I swear to GOD, if there's even a hint that Buck is into Tommy, or literally anything about Bi Buck this season, I'm slamming that "Buddie will be canon and I can't be convinced otherwise!" button.

Friendship will always be the core of their relationship. I was just talking to my friend Zee @tawaifeddiediaz the other day, and I told her about a video essay I was listening to about eros (romantic/sexual love) and how eros is what sustains most romantic stories and basically that eros = the chase or the build-up to a potential romantic coupling 😉. That eros inherently ends when the relationship is consummated (ie they get together and are at a relationship equilibrium) and that just makes me think about the concept of people suddenly not caring about a ship once they get together (also known in fandoms as "moonlighting". I think with those ships it's usually due to over-reliance on eros or romantic chase tension so then when it's gone the relationship isn't interesting anymore.

This is all to say that the buddie relationship has not been built on eros. It's been built on platonic, familial, friendship, and commitment-based love all before it ever gets to the sexual/romantic love. And so, to me, as a firm buddie-truther, that's why when they actually get to that phase where they do explore the romantic/sexual aspect of their relationship, Buddie won't lose momentum or become boring or have people lose interest, it most likely will end up being more interesting/complex and beloved ship.

If ANYTHING happens between Buck and Eddie at the bachelor party or at the wedding, I'm once again slamming that "BUDDIE IS HAPPENING and I can't be convinced otherwise!" button. Because come on? You can't expect to give them tension at wedding-adjacent things (that are literally all about reinforcing ROMANTIC bonds) and not expect me to see that as the writers confirming Buddie will end up in the same spot eventually.

And about episode 5...once again, I am an Eddie/Hardware-Store-Flirtation Marisol break up at the end of episode 5 truther. I will not be convinced otherwise unless I see the episode myself or if the actors post about filming more past that. Either way, Hardware-Store-Fliration Marisol isn't and could never be Mr. Edmundo Diaz's endgame and I'm not even a little bit worried about her.

[lisafoxromance]

So, I've become deeply obsessed with the Touchstarved demo lately, like one does when something is awesome and fun. For the moment, Leander is my LI of choice, which is kind of unusual for me because I usually go hard for those tsunderes like Mhin, but Leander and his bodacious bosom really caught my eye, and now here we are. Spoilers ahead!

As the most 'normal,' and therefore most suspicious of the bunch, I've seen a lot of discourse on what his monstrous side may be. I love it all, the speculation is creative and wonderful, and so inspiring I've decided to add my little hot takes to the conversation.

I think underneath all that blushing charm, Leander is an asshole. I've seen a lot of thoughts on the choice to not take his hand, but personally, I think he's fucking with the MC the whole time. I don't think he's affected by their curse at all. I think he's purposefully being a jerk for his own amusement. Vere calls him, "a pathetic, slimy little man child in big, shiny shoes," and I think this moment perfectly illustrates Vere's point. When things seem too good to be true, they often are, right?

Along with that, he's a total slut, which is fine, I'm not shaming or anything, it's just a fact, so while his fliration is really sexy, it's also hollow. The man keeps a side room ready at all times for his liaisons, which says to me that he never takes these people back to his own, private quarters. It's easy to conclude that he's intentionally keeping these encounters purely sexual – fun for the moment, but only for that moment. No one gets close. Gotta wonder why. But, "that's the problem with flowers. They don’t last long, but they leave an impression, right?" And Vere once again brings the point home when he wonders if Leander has "already snuck off to get his knob slobbered out back," implying this is something he frequently does.

He's definitely got the jealousy factor going on too, though I don’t know if that's across the board or just strictly for Ais. I'm currently undecided. This could also be where his "throbbing victim complex" comes in, but then again, maybe not.

This is purely my own speculation, but I can see him turning out to be a betrayer character, à la Isabela in DA2. I think no matter how much he may blush, he'll sell the MC out in a hot minute if it's in his best interest to do so – or if he's compromised in some way. We all have our secrets after all. Of course, like Isabela, if he likes the MC enough, I believe he'll regret it and try to make amends, but until it dawns upon him to do so, the MC is going to be shit out of luck and probably in a world of trouble.

Anyway, these are just the thoughts and theories rolling around in my head. Whatever he turns out to be, I'm sure it will be both horrifying and awesome, and I'm here for it. I can't wait for the game to come out. I'm super excited to play it! 💚

[dearlymrme]

But consider, and maybe you have already,

vampire Secondo. yumyum. yesyes.

Well, I sure as hell have now! Thank you for the ask and chance to write something I haven't thought of before. If you have any more cravings, you just drop another!

I'll Have A Red Wine (Secondo x Reader)

Summary: He refuses to turn you, but that doesn't stop him from feeding from you.

Secondo x Reader || Bondage || Forced Submission || Blood Play || Knife Play || Oral Sex || WC: 2531

Vampirism is very contagious. A warm body who has been bit with even the most gentle of accidental nicks will turn in a heartbeat. Literally, a single heartbeat left before it stops for good. And when the heart doesn’t beat, the blood goes cold. You’ve talked about it, him turning you, it excites you. At one point in a girl’s life it’s all they can think about, the idea of turning into a vampire and stalking the night with their dark prince.

“I want you to enjoy living. I want to enjoy you living for as long as I can.” You raise a brow and carefully shed your shirt, left sitting at the edge of the bed in only your underwear and bra.

“Having a willing food source is pretty nice too, huh?”

He scoffs, scandalized, with a hand to his chest.

“Cara, there’s more to it than that.” He’s still fully dressed while you're dressed down and makes no moves to remove his clothes as he approaches. This tells you what kind of night it’s going to be. It’s all about the meal tonight, and he’s going to eat you up like the finest of cake. Your body already heats up in anticipation, as well as frustration. Your core tightens as he places a knee on the bed and crawls over you.

“Yes, it’s convenient to have a drink whenever I want but…mia, you are warm.” He tries to explain, to put into words you’d understand and accept.

He understands, he does. The life of the undead has always been fascinating to mortals, and you are no different. Your relationship has lasted long, you have lasted so long, and your blood is only getting sweeter with age. But he would miss this. He doesn't want to give it up and won't for the longest time if he can help it.

“You're that bit of sunshine after a long life of overcast. Your beating heart is like the flutter of returning birds after a hard winter.” He takes one of your warm hands with his and lifts it to his mouth, placing a kiss on the back of your palm. He hears your heart stutter from his flirations, and he smugly smiles. Then he turns over your hand to suck gently at your pulse, pressing his tongue to your beating vien and sighing in bliss as he feels your heart throb against his tongue.

He presses a sweet kiss to it and then crawls his lips up your arm.

“It helps the nights go by so much faster for me to hear your heartbeat against my ear as you sleep. Your warm skin against mine gives my cold body pins and needles as it remembers what it was like to be alive.” He watches, fascinated, as your cheeks light up pink, all that blood rushing to your face in embarrassment.

He should speak poetically more often. You’re absolutely mouthwatering when you blush. He grants your flushed and warm cheeks a sweet kiss. Your skin is so hot against his lips that he keeps them pressed against you, pressing his face against you to soak in your warmth. He's a powerful enough vampire to be able to walk the day, but it's irritating, and one of the best ways for him to feel warmth anymore is from the comfort of your body.

“It gets my blood rushing when I hear your blood rushing.” It’s like the sound of a babbling brook, all that red, all that life. He lowers his face to your neck, to your jugular and inhales. The smell of you divine and sweet. Like smelling his favorite dessert, but when he was alive to enjoy it. He can't enjoy regular food anymore. It tastes like ash in his mouth. He's reminded of when he was alive. But the blood…your blood.

The scent crawls up his nose and wraps around his brain in a hug and squeezes. It makes his breathing shake, and his body shudder.

“Metaphorically speaking.” He jokes, voice dreamy from the smell, and presses a controlled kiss to your collar.

He didn't used to be like this. It's taken years of practice to be able to do this; hold back. There's no need to hold back when feeding from the sick and twisted, but with willing hosts, it was hard not to accidentally kill them, not to accidentally turn them.

Now, however, with you? His control is perfect. He has to be. It helps that being able to hold himself back like this, to have perfect control over you while with himself, it's developed into a bit of a kink. Having you while holding back against something that by base instinct, he wants to destroy and tear to shreds. Being able to hold something so fragile in his hands and not destroy it. It makes him feel powerful.

You chuckle, and your own breathing stutters as you see him reach over the bedside table and pick up tonight’s tool. It catches the light, and you feel butterflies start to flutter in your lower stomach. He smiles as he hears your heart once more skip a beat.

“Where shall we start tonight, cara?” He asks, but his mind is already decided as he gently slides the flat of the blade against your skin, starting at your neck and then carefully running the point down the center of your cleavage. You shudder as he turns it under the elastic of your bra and slices through the fabric. The small rip causes your lower stomach to tighten with heat as he looks down at your chest with a lustful gaze, hypnotized by your expanding and contracting chest as you breathe.

“Your breasts?” He asks and lowers his mouth down to kiss one of your tits. You whimper and fist the sheets as his tongue lathes over one of your nipple. The contrast of his cold mouth against your hot skin causes goosebumps to rise, and he gives a strong and hard suck. He sucks and sucks, plays with it with his tongue, and sucks some more until it starts to hurt. You can feel the blood rushing close to the surface of your skin.

You shudder at the throb it causes between your legs and splay them open. His hips slot with yours, and you groan as he refuses to do much else but press against you. You shift, wanting friction, and that breaks the rules.

Your body locks. Not in tense muscles but a soft pressure, as though tied with invisible ropes. You grumble as he uses his vampiric magic to pin you to the bed. Magical handcuffs keep your body pinned to the mattress. You've given up your freedom and are now completely at his mercy.

"Not fair." You whine, no longer able to do much else, and he chuckles. He releases your nipple and blows on it, happy to watch it pebble with a ring of purple and red formed around it. He then begins to trail his lips further down your chest. He presses featherlight kisses to your skin before stopping at your navel.

"You know the rules, cara. No moving when my mouth is on you." He tuts. A safety precaution. Because while he might have iron control, you didn't, you impatient thing. It's all too easy for him to accidently skim a fang against your skin. He's learned from his mistakes.

His cold hand carefully spreads your legs just a tiny bit more, and they part with ease under his guidance despite the fact that you can not move them yourself. Cheater. Then, he presses the knife to your inner thighs. You whimper, and he gives you a raised brow and gentle smile.

"Ready?" He asked, and you took a deep breath.

"Yeah."

It's a flash, quick and clean. So fast that you don't even feel it. A small nick on your inner thigh that the only sign it was there was the sudden feeling of liquid trickling down your leg. It was no bigger than two inches.

Then, he's on you. He quickly licks up the trailing blood before sealing his mouth over the cut. As soon as his tongue makes contact with your life essence, he breathes through his nose and then lets out a core trembling moan. It's deep, breathy, and nearly reverbs through the room.

It slides on his tongue, his taste buds singing as it mingles with his saliva, and then he swallows. It sinks into his stomach like a rock, and from there, it's a chain reaction. It bubbles, boils, and erupts. It then shoots, like a comet, through his dead cells. In its tail, it leaves behind fire and grandeur, reminding his body what it feels like to be alive.

And the taste; divine. The brain confuses the taste for something appealing. It's less a flavor and more a memory. It's never the same taste twice, and it's changed since his last feeding from you. The memory of savory dark chocolate had turned into the tartness of sugared cranberries.

He could make the cliche comparison of wine, but it's sweeter than that. It does, however, make him feel light on his feet. It gets his head buzzing as though he's on his second bottle of chardonnay.

He sucks gently at your cut, cold but warming tongue swiping in big broad laps at the liquid. One hand is still palming the knife as his other rests under your knee, keeping your leg stretched. As he closes his eyes and gets lost in the euphoria, you have a very subtle tremble.

A moan of your own leaks through, and the small sting sends butterflies flapping through your gut. The longer he sucks the more obvious the injury. But since first starting your relationship with the vampire, you've long since begun to associate the pain with pleasure.

It clots eventually, even with his sucking. He gives it one last lick before placing a soft kiss, almost an apology and goodbye before he presses the knife to the other side of your inner thighs, and there's another quick flick of his wrist.

You groan, and your core tightens at the sharp pain. This one is deeper, and Secondo immediately slurs it up. With each lap of his tongue, he sends a spike of arousal through you, and you can feel wetness forming between your legs.

You whimper, letting your wants be known.

"Patience." He grumbles against your skin. You watch as your blood coats his lips and see a flash of his fangs as he gives your cut open mouth tongue lashings. His body is starting to warm, even from such a small amount. But you know he is nowhere near finished with you.

Shallow cuts in number can be dangerous. They don't bleed much, but with numerous of them, that small amount adds up. Vampire saliva does something wonderful.

Not only does it thin the blood but once made contact with the wound sparks the brain with dopamine. A victim could be drained dry in a manner of minutes but they'd thank you for it, with a bright smile on their face. Another thing about vampire spit is that it doesn't allow the cuts to scar. Despite the shallow marks and the frequency in which you do this, there's not a single silver line on your body.

He'd love to decorate you in that way, but he can more than settle for the small red lines he makes.

Now that your legs are covered in small shallow but numerous marks, there is a bright smile on your face. He can see your body pliant and soft as you sink into the mattress. You softly moan with every suckle he gives your wounds was no better, the vivid taste of you, causing him to breathe laboriously against your skin. He's fed well enough now that he could fuck you if he wanted too.

Instead, he nuzzles your inner thighs with his eyes half closed in contentment, drunk off of you.

No, he has something else in mind when the smell of your arousal hits his nose, and he glances down at your underwear at see a very obvious wet spot in the fabric

His hands slip over your legs down to the apex of your thighs, gently brushing against the dampness to softly stroke.

You give a pleased but desperate whimper of need. He smirks and takes in your appearance. Your eyes are half closed and dazed. Your face was pink, and your lips parted in a soft 'o' shape as he slid his finger against your moistened underwear.

"Oh, don't worry, mia pasto. I'm nowhere near done with my meal." He then slides the knife under the band of your shorts and cuts through them before tossing both them and the knife to the side. More than done with them for the night.

He then presses his thumbs against your folds and splits them apart, granting himself the flattering view of your glistening pink cunt.

You whine again, petulant, as he takes his time to stare at your exposed pussy. He hums and flexes his thumbs to spread your folds further apart, trying to get the best view, to commit the sight to memory. Him watching you, with your cunt so fully exposed, just drives home how damn empty you feel, and your body contracts around nothing in need.

"Look at this pretty pink pussy. So wet and needy. I can see you clenching, dolcezza." He praises.

"Please." You beg and shudder as he slides his digits against your labia, just barely pressing into you.

"Well…since you beg so nicely." He drawls before smiling. "Thank you for the meal."

And he attacks.

And he does it slowly.

You growl. Your fingers clutch the sheets in rage. Hard enough for your knuckles to go white as he takes his sweet time. Broad strokes with his tongue from bottom to top, pointing his tongue at your clit and rolling it once around the sensible bundle of nerves before repeating.

You start to babble, and although he pleasures you, it's not nearly enough

"Please. Please, please. Give me more. Please!" You beg, feeling tears prickling at the corner of your eyes.

He hums idly before latching his mouth on your clit and sucking it and ypy whine as, despite the pleasure, it not what you want. You need more than that. He won't even finger you, thumbs still spreading your cunt wide open for his mouth to devour.

"Inside. I need something inside me." You state and shudder as he assaults your clit with slow and almost lazy action. A suck, a lap with his tongue, and another suck.

He breaks apart from your core with a wet smack and gives an almost diabolical grin.

"Now, now. A meal this good should be savored..." He states and gives you cunt another painstaking slow lick. "...Slowly."

His fangs are threatening, his eyes are cocky You whimper at his cruelty and can't do much to struggle

You can only lay there and submit to his whims.

The night is still young, after all.

[mosneakers]

Hello love!

Was Coraleye planned from the beginning, or was she kind of just born into your game and stole your heart? and was Tycho always the plan for her or did your game decide that fate? 🤍

hey bby ♥ I love this question thank you!!

I'd have to say a little bit of both! I knew for generation 4, I really wanted a female heir, since the previous heirs have all been males. So far, it's been a tradition that the youngest of the kids turn out to be the heir, and I wanted to stick to that with her. So I knew she'd be the youngest daughter. Years ago, I was on a color-naming website thing? looking for color names that fit the Dollow color scheme, and very quickly came up with the names Brick, Charm, and Sunglow (which I removed the 'w') then the last was Coral, which was alright. I already had a way different name picked for her at the time (Anastasia!) but on my list of sims names I had the alternate spelling "Coralie" written down, and she had heterochromia + a coral eye, so I had kind of a 'what if' moment and BOOM, CORALEYE! ✨ This was possibly years in advance, I tend to think pretty far ahead. Just like I know who Coraleye will end up with, how many kids she'll have, and what their names will be already 😉😂 Her brothers were all born in sims 3 but she was the only one to start her life in ts4 with very rough beginnings 😄 (limited cc and dog shit graphics!) Her personality, most of her storylines, and overall ability to shine and take over my simblr, well she did all that on her own 😅

AS FOR TYCHO OMG... No, none of that was planned lol!! As someone who has played the sims since the first generation (ts1!) I tend to remake a lot of the classic families. The Curious brothers and Strangetown were my absolute FAVORITES from ts2 and since I'm a chaotic mess, a lot of my creations tend to inhabit the same saves. Tycho naturally met Seymour Darling when they joined the same conspiracy theory club in Strangerville. Then Tycho went to college at the same time Glo did, I thought they'd be cute besties since they're both nerds so I let them be roommates (I even left the possibility to fliration open! 👀) and they quickly became a tight-knit group of friends. After Coraleye was introduced, that boy didn't stand a chance, and those two threw a wrench in the entire plans of the legacy!

Don't worry though, we've rerouted, and we're back on track 🚂😆

[it-happened-one-fic]

An Honor - Jamil

Author Notes: So this fic just kind of happened to be honest. I was bored one day and felt like writing, so I started writing. I suppose the idea behind this fic was that I've always felt like Jamil would be the sort of show off. As per usual, reader is gender-neutral. I hope you enjoy!

Type: Gender-neutral reader/ sfw/ fluff/ fliration/

Word Count: 1899

I blinked up at the young man who looked down at me from where he’d walked over to be my seatmate for the class. And slowly, a smirk appeared on his face that had the surprise slipping off of my face, only to be replaced with mild annoyance as he spoke, his voice filled with smugness, “What’s the matter, Prefect? You look like you just stumbled across an oasis in the desert.”

And people thought Jamil didn’t think highly of himself.

It was a fight not to roll my eyes as I glanced away from him. Pursing my lips slightly and looking toward the front of the class where Trein was watching his selected partners team up.

It was one of those classes where, in the interest of challenging the students, Trein had decided to mix up who we were working with. So instead of having Ace or Deuce with me, I was going to be sitting and working with none other than Jamil. 

Which really shouldn’t have been that bad. He was a perfectly competent student. In fact, competent was putting it lightly. If I were being wholly honest, then Jamil was quite intelligent.

Or at least he was most of the time. Even the highly competent Jamil had his dumb moments, and I'd certainly been privy to some of them.

Nonetheless, in reality, I really should’ve been thrilled to have such a skilled seatmate for a class involving magic use where I couldn’t contribute much of anything in the way of assistance. 

But that reality couldn’t be further from the truth, because when it came right down to it, me and Jamil were like oil and water. Never to be mixed, since it seemed like a conversation between the two of us could never occur with the exchanging of insults and barbed commentary.

I could acknowledge his skills, but at this point they seemed to become more of a consolation prize when it came to having to deal with his mouth.

Either oblivious to my thoughts or uncaring, he sat down next to me smoothly, and I sighed. Resigning myself to my fate as I glanced over his way, “So what spell are you going to be doing and what components are you going to need?”

We both knew I couldn’t contribute much to this activity when I couldn’t use magic. At best, Grim could try and help, and he would have too, since Trein wouldn’t allow otherwise, but I wasn’t about to let him pick the spell. Not when Grim’s last choice had landed both me and Deuce in the infirmary with some nasty burns.

Jamil’s eyebrows arched as Grim protested my words before being silenced by a single glance from me, “It’s my choice then?”

I looked back towards the tanned young man before I nodded. Lifting my shoulder in a half-shrug as I felt a slight smile slip onto my face, “Well, it seems only fair since you’ll have to do most of the work.”

A smug grin spread across his face, and I felt myself tense as I realized exactly what that expression meant before he spoke, “Well, well… This is an honor. I’ll endeavor to live up to it.”

And there it was. His sarcastic side that always seemed to slip out whenever I was alone with him.

I suppose he had no reason to hide it anymore after the events of Winter break, and perhaps I should’ve been flattered that he didn’t feel the need to wear his party mask around me, but I couldn’t help but be annoyed.

It was almost like it was his sole goal in life to harass me at this point, and he unfortunately got lots of openings since our teachers seemed to be perpetually pairing us up.

Either that, or Jamil had an uncanny ability to ensure we got paired together, and if so, these were even more pointed attacks than I’d realized.

Though I would have to admit I was impressed by his ability to get what he wanted if that were the case.

Either way, it was commonplace for Jamil to show off and sass me with thinly veiled, biting comments while I would do my best to bite my tongue and not give him what he wanted by snapping back only to inevitably fail.

I snorted though as Grim looked warily between the two of us and my voice came out filled with dry sarcasm, “I guess that means I can look forward to a really high grade for this class then?”

He outright smirked at me, and I felt myself snort as I shook my head slightly, “So what components are you and Grim going to need?”

Jamil let out a hum as he sat down next to me, leaning over so that his shoulder was pressed against mine as he scanned the sheet of accepted spells for this class.

I shifted, watching as he silently read before nodding, the motion causing his hair to slide freely over his shoulder. The golden beads that he used for decoration clinking together as his gaze slid toward mine in an oddly pleased manner, “Some fire.”

I felt my eyebrows lift as I held his gaze, already suspicious of whatever he was plotting as I echoed his words with blatant disbelief, “Some fire?”

His eyes glimmered at my words before whatever he was thinking was hurriedly concealed. An action that only made me more suspicious as he tilted his head, “You don't trust me?”

His tone was oddly flat and definitely controlled, wholly at odds with what I’d gotten used to from him over the past few months.

I faltered slightly at his sudden change in behavior as I stared back at him before I cleared my throat slightly and gestured to Grim, “Will magic fire work?”

Jamil blinked as if he were briefly surprised before his gaze shifted to where Grim stood, now puffed up with pride at the mere thought of getting to use his trump card in terms of magic. And I watched as Jamil nodded, a smile working its way onto his face as he looked back my way, “I should be able to use that…. Yes.”

I nodded, crossing my arms slightly, “Is there anything else you need?” It was phrased as a question, but I hardly expected for fire to be the only thing that Jamil needed. From what I understood, spells requiring components were fairly common. 

But at odds with my expectations, Jamil only shook his head. Standing as he gestured for me to stay put, “No, you can just sit and watch.”

He paused, that accursed smirk appearing on his face once more as he leaned towards me, “Think you can manage that without causing any messes, Prefect?”

And there it was, a jab at the fact that something always seemed to go down when I was around. And I glowered back at Jamil before smiling with forced sweetness up at him, “Just as well as you can manage pulling off this spell without any issues, I’m sure.”

He snorted, oddly pleased with the fact that I'd bitten back in the way he always was before he straightened again and turned to look at Grim, “Then watch closely, Prefect.”

“I hope you can handle my magic, Jamil,” Grim was utterly smug as he braced himself, and I almost snorted at his commentary.

But at odds with the way Jamil always matched my sarcasm, his response was wholly unimpressed as he pulled out his wand. Eyeing Grim closely the entire time, “Not a problem.”

Grim scowled up at him but blew out a large puff of fire, causing me to swing my legs out of the way with a startled squeak, only for Jamil to catch every bit of it with a single wave of his wand. A smirk already spread across his face as I glanced his way.

And I wasn’t the only one looking. In fact, it seemed like the entire class was looking at us now. A fact that had me frowning.

Because Jamil didn’t like to be the center of attention. He wanted to be recognized for his talents, yes, but not gawked at.

Which I could respect. I couldn’t say I cared for being stared at like some sort of attraction either.

But this time he seemed wholly unbothered by the stares his magic garnered as he deftly wielded Grim’s magic. Seemingly condensing it into a brilliantly glowing ball of blue flame that almost seemed to glitter.

And, despite myself, I could feel my interest growing as I watched closely. Curious as to what Jamil was about to do. Because I had no doubts he would succeed. Like it or not, Jamil was skilled at what he did, and though he might be cocky, he was also good at picking things he could manage so long as he wasn’t competing with someone.

The longer I stared though, the longer the ball of flame remained just that. A condensed ball of blue fire that glimmered mockingly. Like it was playing at being something more than it truly was.

I felt myself frown before I glanced at Jamil's way in slight confusion, only to find him watching me with a smirk on his face, no doubt amused by my obvious fascination with his magic.

As if I wasn’t fascinated by everyone's magic.

I opened my mouth to ask him if everything was alright, only for him to shake his head slightly, “If you look away, you’ll miss the show.”

My eyes widened slightly at his warning before I hurriedly looked back in time to see the magic explode with a mere flourish of the wrist from him.

Blue flames sailed up towards the ceiling before imploding in flower-like patterns that reminded me of kaleidoscopes.

My breath caught slightly in my throat as I stared overhead at the magical fireworks, entirely missing Jamil pocketing his wand and sitting down next to me until the flames had all faded from existence. Leaving only a shower of sparkles that rained down around us as I looked his way in quiet surprise as he grinned at me with open smugness.

I could hear Trein from the front of the class, his voice filled with pleasure, “Very good job, Mr. Viper! Seldom have I seen such a brilliant pyrotechnics spell!”

Jamil nodded, quietly voicing his thanks for the professor’s praise before his gaze met mine once more and his smug smile returned as he leaned over, his voice lowering so only I could hear him, “And there is your ‘high grade,’ as promised.”

I blinked before frowning at him slightly, shaking my head as he only grew more smug, “Fine. I’ll admit it, it was impressive. But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

He outright grinned at me, leaning back smugly, “I did say I would endeavor to live up to the honor of getting to use the spell of my choice.”

I paused, tilting my head at him before I finally smiled, half amused even despite our typically acerbic relationship. After all, he’d won fair and square.

“Well, I’d say you lived up to it then,” His smile spread at my words, more genuine this time as he held my gaze. Both of us grinning at the other one and somehow, miraculously, not snarking at the other one.

[skiplo-wave]

I know it was a gag episode

But how powerpuff girls were handle as teenagers was ick

Considering this episode came out in 2000s which peak of sterotypical highschoolers. It makes sense seeing the girls were kinda out of touch as teenagers lol. Missing every fliration single the boys gave them omg

As weird as girls look older. The designs for them are spot on. It's giving spice girls. I have soft spot for teenager!powerpuffs :')

Craig is currently working on ppg reboot/remake. I wouldn't mind if he he wrote sesonal rot episodes and imrpoved them.

[lanaevyssmoved]

RAHH RAHH rahhh RAHH biting you

nah see. this is a fliration

[kinglyisms-archived]

♚ — @mundanemiseries ;; Casimir, Hiroki and Toshiro 4. does your muse find any specific features particularly attractive? 5. what is your muse's ideal first date? 12. does your muse get flustered easily? how would they typically react to compliments from someone they are interested in/dating? 13. what traits does your muse value in a romantic partner? 16. what is/are your muse's love language(s)?

"I really hate talking about love." Funny, coming from an incubus, he knows. "Attractive physical features--probably someone's scars. You can tell a lot about them from them, and I don't have any. Trait of an incubus, they just--go away. I fell off a roof once, ripped my arm open, had several stitches. And the scars from that--they just went away. Vanished. We're supposed to be attractive, apparently the curse doesn't consider scars attractive."

He takes a deep breath and shifts uncomfortably. "I've always wanted to go to an aquarium. They look--fun, interesting. We don't have one in Abarith." New, interesting experiences. His dates tend to include some alcohol and a bedroom--not exactly a date. Not unless you as Wyatt.

"No. I suppose I'm rather hard to fluster... do you know how many people hit on me daily? The words they throw at me? The disgusting fliration they think is fun? The amount of times someone has told me my eyes resemble the stars in the sky or whatever--" a breath. "I don't really like compliments like that anymore."

He just wants something real.

A bit of a puse at the last question and he shrugs his shoulders a bit. "It's probably touch and yes, that is probably a result of what I am. Most things are." How does he even tell anymore what's him or what's the incubus?

Casimir took a love styles test here.

[jaxteller87]

Jinglebell Rock

Even though it was the third Christmas without Amber’s parents, I was still trying to make the holiday special. Christmas was always a big deal for her family, and while I wasn’t exactly the Hallmark type, I knew it mattered to her. The Kemp family didn’t mess around with holidays.

“That Santa hat…” I raised an eyebrow, watching Amber pull a red hat from her gift bag. “…looks badass,” I chuckled, trying to hide the grin tugging at the corner of my mouth as she slipped it on.

“You’re not just saying that, are you?” She gave me a playful side-eye, pulling another gift bag open.

I grinned. “Nah, you’re rockin’ it. You look just like Santa’s little helper.”

“I’m glad you feel like that because…” Amber reached into another bag, pulling out a matching hat. “Here ya go,” she laughed, handing me one too.

I stared at it for a second, then shook my head, laughing. “No way. You’re not putting me in this.”

“Yes, way, Teller.” Her laugh was infectious, and before I knew it, I was putting the damn thing on, feeling the soft wool scratch at my hair.

“Thanks.” I kissed her forehead.

“You know, since I’m Santa’s little helper, that must make you Santa Claus himself.”

Jax chortled. “I do have the beard for it, I suppose. Maybe we should get Bobby Elvis one; I’m sure he’ll definitely look the part.”

“No offense, babe, but where I was going with the whole Santa and Santa’s little helper thing doesn’t involve Bobby Elvis…or any of the boys for that matter.”

“Why? What are you—” It took me a moment to get it, but I got it. “Oh.”

“Yeah. I already hung the mistletoe over the bed.”

I wasn’t sure how the hell she reached the ceiling. “Over the bed?” I asked.

“Okay, Donna hung it over the bed for me, but still— it’s there because I wanted it to be, so I did it, capice?” Amber said playfully.

“Say less, darlin’. I mean, I don’t have to tell you nothing, but Santa is pretty busy this time of year, so I’ll take any help I can get.” I winked, realzing my attempt at Christmas fliratation was a bit sub par.

Later that day, Opie and Donna showed up for our annual sugar cookie bakeoff; it was tradition. When Donna walked in, the first thing she saw was the tops of hats bobbing around in the kitchen as we got some of the ingredients ready to go.

“Cool hats,” she chuckled with an amusing glint in her eye.

“Wait for it...” Amber disappeared into the living room, reappearing with two more identical hats in hand.

“No way, Amber!” Donna laughed, grabbing the hat. “You’re a menace!”

“How many of these things did you buy?” I asked.

Amber smiled and went back to getting ingredients around. “Don’t worry about that.”

“Babe! Look what Amber got us!” Donna shouted as Opie carried in some grocery bags.

“Good luck getting him to put that on,” I scoffed.

“Hand-knitted Santa hats!? No way!” Opie dropped the bags on the couch and rushed to get us, switching his beanie for it in a heartbeat.

“You were saying, dear?” Amber sneered at me with her festive, shit-eating grin.

We settled around the kitchen table, Christmas music playing softly in the background. A weird normalcy surrounded us as we started decorating the cookies. The scent of sugar and cinnamon filled the air, and for a moment, it felt like something out of a life I never thought I would have.

Opie, always the joker, started decorating his cookie. “Look, babe.” He lifted a cookie smothered in icing. “It’s a deer— that got ran over by Grandma…get it?”

Donna rolled her eyes but smiled, “Real festive, Opie.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Nice one, man. Real subtle.”

I went for something classic— a leg lamp straight out of A Christmas Story. Amber, next to me, was delicately crafting a snowman; her attention to detail on his hat and scarf was almost ridiculous.

“Bet they make Die Hard cookie cutters,” I mused out loud, glancing at the assortment of shapes.

Donna, not missing a beat, fake-coughed. “Not a Christmas movie,” she said with a smirk.

Me and Opie exchanged glances, grinning as we both covered our mouths. “Yes, it is,” we chimed in unison, causing Amber to burst out laughing. And when she laughed, it was contagious. Soon enough, we were all cracking up.

A few days later, Amber and I sat around the Christmas tree. I handed her a gift bag stuffed with tissue paper and watched her eyes light up as she gently peered inside.

“Merry early Christmas,” I said, leaning back on the couch. “Go on, tear that sum’bitch up.”

Her fingers tore through the tissue. “No way,” she chuckled, pulling out a framed photo. Donna had snapped a few pictures while we were goofing around. It was like a tradition— one good picture, then one where we were all making faces, acting like idiots.

“The hats were a big hit,” she laughed, setting the frame on the coffee table.

Later that night, we curled up on the couch, having just finished watching Die Hard. No matter what Donna said, that movie was Christmas to me. The lights from the tree blinked softly, casting a warm glow in the room.

“Wait a minute...” I said, squinting at the TV. An old rerun of The Big Bang Theory played on the screen, and something clicked. “That’s where the hats are from.”

Amber chuckled, looking up at me, her head resting in my lap. “Yup. You just figured that out?”

I grinned, shaking my head in disbelief. She always had something up her sleeve.

A moment later, she sat up, turning to face me, her expression softening. “Thanks, Teller... for everything. Christmas hasn’t been easy these last few years, but you always make it feel less... heavy.” She leaned in, kissing my cheek. “I mean it.”

I wrapped my arm around her, pulling her close. “You’re welcome, babe. Club life doesn’t leave much room for this kinda thing, but... for you, I’ll always make time.”

Sitting on the couch with Amber nestled into my side, I let the quiet settle in. The soft hum of the Christmas lights and the warmth of the fire made everything feel distant—like the noise of the club had disappeared just for tonight.

But then, I heard it. The unmistakable rumble of motorcycles around the corner. My whole body tensed instinctively.

I glanced at the clock on the wall. It was almost 10. Late, even by our standards. I pulled out my phone, checking for any messages from the guys— maybe something was up. But nothing. No texts, no calls.

Amber noticed me stiffen and sat up. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

I shook my head. “Not sure.” I got up, moving toward the window. The low growl of Harleys grew louder as they rolled up to the house. I peered outside and saw a line of bikes pulling into the driveway, one after the other. Tig, Happy, Chibs, Juice, Bobby, and Ratboy. All wearing... Santa hats?

I let out a disbelieving laugh, shaking my head. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

Amber came up behind me, laughing too. “Oh, I forgot to mention��� I bought 10 hats. You, me, Donna, and Ope have four…those big mean bikers out there have the other 6.”

I turned to her, raising an eyebrow. “You got them to play along with this? You? The guys?”

She grinned like a proud little puppy who was just told how good she was. “What can I say? I have my ways.”

I shook my head, still in shock. The Sons, decked out in Santa hats, getting off their bikes like they weren’t hardened outlaws who ran guns for a living. I couldn’t believe she’d pulled this off.

I turned back to her, half laughing, half in awe. “I don’t know how you do it. I really don’t.”

Amber’s grin widened. “Oh, wait. It’s about to get better.”

My face was red with anticipation. “If Clay pops out of a fuckin’ cake or something, I don’t know what I’m going to do…”

She went to the door, flinging it open. “Okay, boys! Take it away!”

The guys gathered, arms around one another, and suddenly— like we were in some twisted Christmas movie— Bobby Elvis took center stage. His deep, gravelly voice boomed through the cold night air as he belted out “Jingle Bell Rock.”

The rest of the guys chimed in, Tig and Juice harmonizing, while Chibs added a Scottish flair that made me chuckle. It sounded like shit, not Bobby’s parts so much, but the rest of the guys couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket. Happy, of all people, was snapping his fingers like he was suddenly a backup singer in a holiday special. Ratboy was doing some ridiculous dance, swaying back and forth with zero rhythm like an offbeat Carlton Banks.

I couldn’t stop laughing. It was so absurd, so out of character, yet somehow perfect. For once, the Sons weren’t just the Sons— they were my family, Amber’s family, and for tonight, we were just a bunch of idiots in Santa hats singing Christmas songs.

I shook my head, pulling Amber close, still grinning. “You really outdid yourself, babe.”

She looked up at me, her eyes sparkling. “Merry Christmas, Teller.”

[blueharborhq]

JEANIE RAMACHANDRAN is looking for her ONLINE FLIRTATION. For more details about the connection, read below!

BASIC INFORMATION

CHARACTER NAME — Jeanie Ramachandran.

CATEGORY — Complicated / Romantic.

TYPE OF CONNECTION — Online Fliration.

CONNECTION NAME — UTP.

CONNECTION AGE — 27 - 35.

SUGGESTED FACECLAIMS — Dev Patel, Quinta Brunson, Daniel Radcliffe, Nicola Coughlan, UTP.

DESCRIPTION

Having met through gaming chat rooms, for the last few months your muse and Jeanie have been talking anonymously online. What started as nothing but an innocent friendship built on xbox and shared memes has slowly evolved into something deeper. They talk every day and recently the two of them have started flirting, but neither are ever sure whether the other is serious or not. They don’t yet know that they live in the same town, but with the increased time they spend talking and their anonymity slowly unravelling it’s surely only a matter of time until they realise they’re close by. 

do you need to be contacted by the potential applicant? — yes please!