#iron base dining table

[willqraharn]

Kitchen Dining Dining Room in San Francisco

Kitchen/dining room combo - large industrial kitchen/dining room combo idea

[arbullock]

Kitchen Dining Dining Room Combination kitchen and dining room - large industrial kitchen/dining room idea

[themightyif]

Farmhouse Dining Room in Philadelphia

[adrienneleclerc]

Where Is It?

Pairing: Logan Sargeant x Hispanic/Latina! Reader

Summary: Y/N gets tired of Logan asking where things are

Warning: Spelling and grammatical errors

A/N: Inspired by a scene from The King of Queens, this is my first Logan Sargeant Fanfic

Logan has been dating his girlfriend, Y/N, since his Formula 2 days, he has been living with Y/N since he started Formula 1, moved into her apartment, and yet Logan keeps asking where things are. At first it was fine but it started getting out of hand.

1st Week Living Together

Logan wanted to make Y/N breakfast but he didn't know where anything was. He didn't want to mess anything up so he went into the living room.

"Baby, where's the waffle iron?" Logan asked. Y/N looked at him

"Oh, it's in the pantry, here." Y/N got off the couch, walked into the kitchen, and opened the pantry. "So i keep the pancake mix on this shelf next to the syrup, the waffle iron is in this drawer along the base of the blenders if you wanted to make yourself a smoothie. The blenders should be on this shelf, okay." Y/N said, pointing to everything, showing Logan where everything was.

"Okay, thank you, breakfast will be ready in a few minutes." Logan said.

"Aw, thank you, mi principe." Y/N said, kissing his cheek.

2nd Week

Logan was tryng to open a package but he couldn't find scissors.

"Honey, where are the scissors?" Logan shouted from the living room.

"Check the cupboard in the living room! should be in the drawer next to my sewing machine!" Y/N yelled from their bedroom.

"Thank you!" Logan shouted when he found them and opened his package.

6 Months

Logan came back from his morning run (I’m guessing) and he wanted to make a smoothie. He took a quick shower and entered the kitchen where he slaw Y/N making herself eggs. Logan kissed her and started pulling out the protein powder, frozen fruits, milk, but he was missing something.

“Babe, where’s the blender?” Logan asked, Y/N flipped her egg, and turned around to look at Logan.

“Where do you think it is, principe?” Y/N asked.

“I have no idea, that’s why I’m asking you.” Logan said, Y/N rolled her eyes and pulled it out for him. “Here you go.” Y/N said, going back to the stove to serve the egg on her plate.

Present Day

Y/N was in the dining room, using the table to make a custom corset that someone ordered from her. When she finished pinning the pattern to the fabric, she got out her fabric scissors to cut it when Logan came in.

“Honey, where are the…? Oh, can I use the scissors when you’re done?” Logan asked.

“No! These are my fabric scissors, use the other ones.” Y/N said.

“That’s what I came here for, to ask you where the scissors are.” Logan said and Y/N just stared at him incredulously.

“No puede ser, we have been living together for 1 and a half and you still don’t know where the scissors are?” Y/N asked. Logan shook his head. “The scissors are in the same place they have always been, I have never moved it once, and yet you keep asking me where they are. Not to mention the blender, the waffle iron, the pens, your keys. I’ll tell you what, cariño, I have been a tour guide in my own apartment long enough. Too many precious moments have been wasted showing you where things are, just learn! Learn! Or at least actually look for them before you ask me. I mean, what if I was on vacation? How would you make your protein smoothies? How would you make waffles? How you cut anything ever again? Would you just sit here weeping and soiling yourself until somebody came in to help you. No you wouldn’t, you would *gasp* remember where something is. Now, just this once, find where the scissors are, come on, I know you can do it, you’re a smart boy, Amor.”

“I’m not a golden retriever, Y/N.” Logan said.

“TikTok disagrees. Now again, where are the scissors?” Y/N said. Logan stopped for a second, trying to remember where Y/N said they were before. He walked into the living room and Y/N followed behind him observing. “Well, you’re on the right room” Logan nodded, he was off to a great start. He walked to the cupboard and opened a drawer.

“I got ‘em.” Logan said, showing Y/N the scissors.

“You got ‘em. That wasn’t so hard, right, mi vida?” Y/N asked him.

“Not really, no.” Logan responded.

“Good boy.” Y/N walked into the dining room to cut the fabric and Logan followed her. As Y/N was cutting the fabric, she felt Logan staring at her. “What do you need now, Logan?”

“Tape.” Logan responded,

“Oh que la…” Y/N said rubbing her temples. “Just look for them.” Y/N responded as calmly as she can. Logan left and she continues to cut the fabric. When he finished cutting out the pieces, Logan came back with tape in his hands. “Finally!”

“I’m sorry that I keep asking you where things are.” Logan said.

“I accept your apology. Now leave me alone for the next few hours, I gotta sew this together.” Y/N said,

“You got it.” Logan said, kissing Y/N before going to their bedroom.

The End

Hope y’all liked it, let me know if you want more! @r0nnsblog @charli123456789

[thornnii]

⎯ ☆ my girlfriend

genre: fluff wordcount: 0.9k pairing: percy jackson x fem!reader tags: based on 'my girlfriend' by TV Girl, daughter of hypnos!reader (she/her), use of [reader], from percy's perspective, minor gods have cabins, established relationship, they're like 15 in this, phones/devices don't attract monsters (eg. noise cancelling headphones) summary: sometimes she just struggles to get out of bed. she can’t help it. notes: noticing how both my percy fics have similar titles, anyway happy international sleep day!

↳ return to masterlist

the sun was bathing camp half blood in a golden light as campers began exiting their respective cabins and heading towards the dining pavilion for breakfast. stepping out of his own cabin, percy was immediately engulfed in the wave of campers, but he did his best to push through the current of others toward the cabins of the minor gods. it had become routine for him by this point; wake up, get sorted for the day, go to cabin 15, drag [reader] out of bed, go for breakfast. percy wondered whether clovis would be up yet or not. who knew with hypnos kids. percy knew that if he didn’t go check up on [reader] she’d willingly hibernate like a bear throughout the winter.

percy knocked on the door to cabin 15, his mother had raised him to always be a gentleman. the door was opened slowly, revealing a bleary-eyed clovis who, upon recognising percy, ushered him in so he could close the door once more. percy liked the hypnos cabin. it always smelt warm and the soft violins made everything feel serene. it was an ironic comparison to personalisation of the beds; messy sheets, a collection of cups, plates and cutlery, clothes strewn around, as well as their own belongings from home. almost every bedside cabinet had either a pair of headphones upon it or a pair of ear plugs.

instantly, percy went over to [reader]’s bed. she was still asleep. of course. it seemed incredulous to percy that anyone would be able to sleep through the morning conch, but here was living proof that it were possible. percy gently shook [reader]’s shoulder to try and ease her out of her slumber. she let out some incomprehensible mumble before promptly rolling over and hiding her face in her pillow.

“c’mon,” percy coaxed, “gotta get up and get breakfast”

[reader] spoke into her pillow once more but this time percy could catch bits of what she was saying, “be fine without… don’t wanna get up… didn’t sleep good..”

“you need breakfast.” percy stood his ground, “and the reason you didn’t sleep well is because you never go to sleep at a reasonable time, it’s a wonder the curfew harpies haven’t caught you yet.”

“I’m too smart for them.” [reader] rebutted, finally turning to face percy and squinting her eyes at him.

“yes you are, now up.” percy quickly pulled the duvet away causing [reader] to let out groans and mumbled protestations at his actions. “come on.” percy reiterated, holding out his hands for [reader] to take. she continued to squint her eyes and scowl at him, but took his hands anyway.

“wash up and then we can go to breakfast” percy proffered.

“can’t I just go like this?” [reader] contested, gesturing to her pyjamas of fluffy black pyjama trousers and make-shift pyjama top of a vintage graphic tee.

percy raised an eyebrow, “you know you’ll get into trouble with chiron if you do.”

“when is getting in trouble an issue for you?” [reader] raised an eyebrow.

“please.” percy begged.

“percy, you’re lucky that I even got out of bed, besides it’s not like I really have any activities to do today, so why do I have to get changed?”

percy sighed, trying to reason, “how about you just change into the shirt? at least for breakfast?”

“fine. turn around.” [reader] motioned with her finger.

it was coming close to the end of breakfast when percy and [reader] finally entered the dining pavilion. since it was basically empty, the two sat together at the hypnos table. thankfully there was still some food left, but not as much as percy would’ve liked, especially after sacrificing some to the gods.

“considering you went out of your way to drag me here, are you actually going to eat or not?” [reader] asked as percy seemingly just stared at his food.

“yeah, yeah,” percy shook his head as he broke out of his reverie, “was just thinking.”

“about?” [reader] prodded.

“just… how do you go a day on so little food? if I didn’t wake you up in the mornings you’d sleep straight through breakfast.”

“I nap and I don’t do anything strenuous. I’d rather rot in bed than go on a quest. I don’t need a lot of energy. besides ‘girl dinner’.”

“it’s breakfast.” percy pointed out.

“whatever, not the point.”

percy rolled his eyes at his girlfriend and went back to eating. it wasn’t until the two were finished with their food and basically the only ones left in the pavilion did he ask:

“so, what are you going to do today?”

[reader] shrugged her shoulders, “dunno, might go to the arts and crafts centre. don’t have to do anything strenuous there.”

“want me to join you?” percy asked, gathering their plates to take back to the kitchen.

“you don’t have to, I know it’s not your favourite place, you could go to the sword-fighting arena to practise if you want. I’m probably going to end up falling asleep anyway.”

“cool. I’ll be there to wake you up if chiron or mr d come by.”

a smile spread across [reader]’s face. she gave percy a light smack on the shoulder before looping her arm through his and dragging him off to the arts and crafts centre. she could already feel her eyelids drooping as she walked, anticipating the peace and quiet of the crafts centre that would let her nap until lunch.

© thornnii.tumblr.com 2024

[silverstudios]

Conversion identified

( This is based on the idea I had about Clyde realizing what it happening to alex. Enjoy!!)

Clyde opened a single eye as the sandwich human passed by it’s resting spot for the day, the lab coat that reeked of iron and chemicals tossed into the pile of similar smelling clothing and the red goggles placed on the table above it. 

Alex looked tired, the dark circles under their eyes almost looking like they were about to overtake the sockets, their walk was a slight limp from working all day...and their skin looked even paler than when Clyde saw them this morning. 

It glanced away for a second, claws digging into the ground under it before it stretched and slithered out from under the dining table. 

“How was work?” It rumbled, circling around the couch Alex had dropped themself into, taking note of how their skin clung tightly to their cheek bones, of how both duller their eyes looked but how bright their pupils shined when glanced at in the right light, with how it could make out each bone in their hands. 

“Long, tiring….the normal.” Alex sighed. “......There was a lot of music today.” Clyde tail twitched, flicking the floor and leaving a mark…before it leaned a little closer to Alex, eyes squinting at them. The human blinked and stared back, their breath held for a second. 

These changes had started…3, 4 months ago? I=The development was being slow, and barely noticeable to the point Alex thought most of it were caused by their work environments or the veldigun itself. Hallucations, falsehoods of the human mind caused by it…and Cylde had to agree that what was happening to Alex was more than likely caused by it. 

Veldigun sickness, fusing of flesh and bone, freeing of the mind and soul to make it easier to devour…But this was different. All the other humans Cylde has infected were hit with their symptoms like they were struck by a truck, dead or disfigured in moments, at longest days. But it has watched Alex’s alterations form over weeks and months. A mild case, but still a case of something that is almost always fatal. 

It supposed it was waiting for the bell to toll before it acted. It waited for the smell of iron and copper to burst from Alex, red leaking from every opening and pained shrieks to race from them- and prayed that it would happen at their home and not at the asylum. It waited so it could pull them inside, to keep them alive if only as a part of itself- not because it cared and would miss them, no no, it’s just- Alex has quite a lot of information it requires to find its partner! That’s it…

“.....Clyde?” Alex took a gulp, a breath, and raised their hands to wave slightly at it. A slightly unnerved and uncertain smile crossed their face as they wiggled a little bit away from it. “You alright buddy-?” It blinked, reaching out to snag Alex’s shirt sleeve before it even knew why, the human letting out a small squeak of surprise before falling silent and still as the veldigun pulled the now slightly trembling hand closer, eyes squinting as it looked at their fingers.

Stripes.

Those- were stripes. Faint and barely noticeable against their hands- hands constantly bruised and cut by their work-ashy black lines fading into dark purples and blues. The nails held a green tint to them, at first it had thought it was- of what’s that word again?- nail polish, as it had seen Alex performing that action before. The stuff smelled awful, but even it had to admit that the end result had been nice while it lasted…

“..........Can I have my hand back?” Alex shifted their arm slightly in their shirt, wiggling slightly to get their freedom. “I um- kinda need it to make sandwiches.” 

“No.” The tips of their fingers were Pointed, and it raised it’s own claws to compare. The dark stripes were in the same place as it’s, the pointed end curved in the same way it’s own claws did…It glanced up at their face, which had a slightly fearful smile on it… And it felt like it had been struck by lightning, slammed by a truck, hit over the head with the frying pan. This wasn’t a case of mild veldigun sickness, it was conversion. 

Alex wasn’t going to someday soon burst like a blood water balloon, mortal life ended too soon- they were just becoming a veldigun, becoming like it. 

It let out a large sigh, a sigh of relief, the thought of having to devour this particular human to preserve them after certain death banished from it’s mind as it let their arm go. 

And then it froze again, staring at them once again even as Alex slid away from them. Alex- was becoming a veldigun. This particular human it had found a purpose for and enjoyed their company was turning from their original species- prey, food, short lived and fragile- to it’s own-Predator, monster, life unending and strong. It didn’t have to worry about alex dying of old age- and watching their mind fade and dull- It wouldn’t need to watch them die-

It shifted on its perch on the armrest of the couch- and lunged. 

Alex yelped as Cylde landed, arms wrapped around them and pulled them off the ground and into the air, their legs swinging back and forth over and over again. 

A delighted grin, large and showing far to many teeth, crossed the veldigun’s face as it swung it’s human- No, no, it’s fellow veldigun, about in it’s arms, face buried into their frizzy brown hair and a giggle-then a laugh- then a joyous cackle raced from it. The tail made cracking sounds with how fast it was whipping in the air, and even as Alex’s startle faded to intense confusion, it couldn’t stop it’s laughter and joy as it nuzzled into their neck. 

It’s friend wasn’t going to die- no, no, they were going to live and be Better in every way!! Oh it couldn’t WAIT to introduce Winfrey to them- the three of them were going to be a wonderful trio!!

[simstorian-blog]

Residential Floorplan Suggestions

New York City: TWO

(CC List + Links)

World Map: San Myshuno

Area: Spice Market – Waterside Warble

Lot Size:  30 x 30

Capacity:

A Dive Bar

An Internet Café

A Pizzeria

A Tattoo Parlor

Bonus: 6 residential rental units floorplans completed – not assigned

Gallery ID: Simstorian-ish

Packs Needed

Expansion Packs

Cats & Dogs

City Living

Discover University

For Rent

Get Together

Get To Work

Growing Together

High School Years

Horse Ranch

Snowy Escape

Game Packs

Dine Out

Dream Home Decorator

Jungle Adventure

Outdoor Retreat

Parenthood

Spa Day

Star Wars: Journey to Batuu

Strangerville

Vampires

Stuff Packs

Crystal Creations

Home chef Hustle

Laundry Day

Moschino

Kits

Castle Estate

Courtyard Oasis

Cozy Bistro

Desert Luxe

Recommended Gameplay Mods

(Please read through what each mod has to offer before deciding if it fits your gameplay style or not.)

Carl’s Dine Out Reloaded

City Vibes Lot Traits

Functional Tattoo Parlor

Functional Venue Lot Traits

Lock/Unlock Doors for Any Lot

Spawn Refresh

Use Residential Rentals shared areas as Community Lots & Create Multi-Purpose Community Lots

Build Mode

CharlyPancakes

Chalk Pt.2 (Tiles)

Felixandre

Chateau Pt. 1 (Stone Foundation)

Chateau Pt. 2 (Doors, Metal Pieces, Tiles, Walls)

Colonial Pt. 3 (Fence 2, Plaster Foundation 2, Railing 2)

Florence Pt. 1 (Fresco Mural)

Grove Pt. 4 (Plaster Column, Plaster Floor)

London Interior (Dining Chair, Stool, Walls)

Paris (Cartouche Large, Corbel, Swag)

Schwerin (Terracotta Female)

SOHO Pt. 2

SOHO Pt. 3

SOHO Pt. 4

Harrie

Brownstone Pt. 2 (Traditional Door Frame – Med, Traditional Door – Med, Traditional Window 2 - Med)

Coastal Pt. 2 (Column)

Klean Pt. 3 (Concrete Floor, Painted Walls)

Kwatei Pt. 1 (3x1 BiFold, Double Arch, Single Interior Door)

Mutske

Stairs Add-on

Lijoue

Louer Collection (Iron Fence, Railing, Stone Stairs)

Peacemaker

Bistro Expanded (Awning 1x1)

Graffiti Mural 01

Pierisim

Winter Garden Pt. 2 (Double Door High, High Window w Bottom x2)

Sooky88

Checkered Marble Floor

English Country Wall Set (Subway Tiles, Subway Tiles w Wallpaper)

Scandinavian Wall Set (Plain w Tiles)

Syboubou

Neighborly 1 (Ceiling Outdoor Light, Mailbox)

Neighborly 2 (Interphone)

Buy Mode

AroundTheSims4

Laundromat (Seating x3 – Metal Base)

Tattoo Parlor (First Aid Kits, Gloves, Ink, Ink Display, Light, Saddle Stool, Tattoo Gun)

Cepzid

Functional Tattoo Chair

Felixandre

Berlin Pt. 1 (Curtain – Tall)

SOHO Pt. 1

Harlix

Baysic (Coffee Table, container, End Table, Kitchen Cabinet, Kitchen Counter, Kitchen Island, Kitchen Sink, Kitchen Trolley, Kitchen Accent Counter 1-3, Sofa)

Jardane (Leather Pouffe)

Kichen (Cabinet, Cups, Glasses, Plant, Shelf)

Kichen 2.0 Pt. 2 (Glasses 2 & 4)

Harrie

Shop The Look 1 (Armchair, Coffee Table)

Shop The Look 2 (Ceramic Side Table)

Shop The Look 3 (Circular Cushion)

Spoons Pt. 2 (2 Tile Glass Pedastal- Short & Tall, Counters, Espresso Bar, Island, Pastry Platter, Pizza Board, Shelving)

Kiwisims4

Blockhouse Dining (Booth Seating)

KKB

The Chilling Home (Module Bar Stool)

LittlleDica

Greasy Foods (Napkins, Salt Shaker, Stalls Door, Stalls Wall, Vents, Wet Floor Sign)

Modern Kitchen Stuff (Soft Breeze)

Rise & Grind (Décor Mural 2, Décor Syrup Bottle, Décor Wall Painting Menu, Dining Tables – All, Wastebun Counter)

Max20

Happily Ever After (Sign of Attention)

NANDO

Fashion Store (Ceiling Lamp)

Pierisim

Coldbrew Coffee Shop Pt. 3 (Menu, Paper Cup, Tea Box, Tips Jar)

MCM Pt. 1 (Simstudio Display)

MCM Pt. 4 (Kitchen Island)

Ravasheen

Shake and Shimmy Dance Floor

Shop Chef (Drink Dispenser)

Severinka

Industrial Light II

Simkoos

Clutter Dump Pt. 2  (Boba Notepad, Boba Stacked Cups V1, Cafeteria Straw Dispenser)

SimspirationBuilds

Toffee Pt. 1 (Art)

Syboubou

Catherine Sushi Restaurant (Wall Shelf 1 & 3)

Contemporary Haven (Armchair, Artworks, End Table, Sofa 3P Left)

Macaron (Counter Display)

TaurusDesign

Lilith Chilling Area Pt. 1 (Bartender Kit, All Drinks, SulSul Sign)

Tuds

Cave (Panel Light 2 x 4)

IND 01

IND 03

Turn Couch

Wondymoon

Fraxinus AIO Computer (DL on Patreon)

DO NOT REUPLOAD MY LOTS.

DO NOT CLAIM THEM AS YOUR OWN.

DO NOT PLACE BEHIND A PAYWALL.

Tray Files: DOWNLOAD

[eatmeandbirthmeagain]

I've has this one on the back of my mind for a while now, and I'm so happy I finally got the chance to request! Maid reader who sneaks notes when prepping Baldwin's meals. In them, she expresses how she admires him from afar and how she wishes she was a woman of a higher class in order to be with him. She also lets him know that, regardless of his illness, she finds him to be charming and attractive no matter how much he hides every inch of his body. I was thinking that maybe Baldwin would sneak into the kitchens and catch her red-handed only for her to become extremely shy and apologize profusely. Thank you, and sorry if it's too long or overcomplicated. I tend to rant 😅

♧ Let Me Be Your's - King Baldwin x Reader ♧

♧ Angst ♧

A/N: Hello Anon! Thank you very much for your request. I love it a lot! I hope it's what you had in mind 😊. No need to apologize, it is an amazing request! As always this is based on the film Kingdom Of Heaven, not the real historical figures. Enjoy!

TW: Leprosy

Y/n walked down the corridor that lead to the king's chambers, slowly as not to spill anything on the tray she carried.

It was early morning and while the other royals dined together, Baldwin had requested each of his meals to be brought to his chambers every day for the last few months. Y/n assumed that this was due to the disease that disfigured his face and him not wishing for anybody to see him in the state he was in. 

She had been a maid at the castle for several years now and in her time there, she had watched how as the king's disease progressed. As it did, he became increasingly reclusive.

She wondered if he ever got lonely sitting in his chambers in all of his free time. Occasionally, it crossed her mind to pay him a visit, just to check on him but thought against it. He was the king, and she was a maid. Not even a head maid, but a junior maid.

Despite this, she had felt deep compassion for him for years now. She wanted nothing more than to leave her lower class position to even have a chance at being his wife.

This thought had tormented her for months. She simply could not take it any longer, he had to know just how deeply she felt for him. Even if it was a risk to her position in the castle, this could not go on any longer. 

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

As y/n arrived outside Baldwin’s chambers, she felt her heartbeat speed up slightly.

Perhaps she was making a mistake in doing this. She knocked on the door softly and awaited permission to enter.

When a slightly strained and groggy voice called for her to enter, she hesitated for but a moment. The note tucked under his tea cup stared at her. She thought about removing it and forgetting the whole ordeal, but she simply could not allow this torment to go on any longer.

Y/n pushed open the door, entering slowly. She straightened herself to a more respectful posture before lowering herself into a shallow curtsey. “Good Morning your majesty” she said confidently, ridding her voice of any possible nervousness.

The king sat on the edge of his bed, white sleeping robes hung loosely around his attractive body. Y/n swallowed a lump in her throat at the sight of the faint outline of his toned body.

“Good Morning madam” he greeted cheerfully through the iron mask.

She placed the tray on his bedside table, “enjoy your meal my lord” she said with a small smile before turning to leave quickly, closing the door behind her.

Baldwin smiled, he always enjoyed seeing that particular maid. She was very kind to him, even though he did not even know her name. He wished he did though.

The young king stood, picking up the tray and sitting down at his desk with it. Just as he removed his mask, he noticed a small piece of parchment tucked underneath the tea cup.

He tilted his head to the side, curiosity taking over him. He took the parchment in his gloved hands, unfolding it slowly. It was a letter. As he read, his heart began to swell in his chest.

To my dearest King,

I know we have never been acquainted with more than brief interaction but I simply can not keep these feelings to myself any longer.

I have admired you from afar since I began work at the castle.

You are a brilliant ruler as well as a charming and kind soul.

Regardless of the illness that plagues your body, you are very beautiful and immensely attractive.

No matter how much you hide yourself, you are the most perfect man I have ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on.

I will write to you in another note next meal as I am running out of time to complete this one. 

Signed, your most avid admirer.

The king was as curious as he was flattered. This had to have been the young maid that delivered him the meal.

If this was the case, he had to see her at once. But he was not quite sure if it was in fact her. Perhaps somebody else had slipped it onto his tray while she was not looking.

He greatly hoped that it was her, he liked her a lot despite not knowing her all that well.

Baldwin pondered a solution as he ate. By the end of the meal, he had come up with a plan. He would wait until lunch when the maids and chefs would be busy preparing the food, then he would enter the kitchen without being seen to catch who it was who wrote the first note as they were in the process of writing the second one.

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

As the day wore on, Baldwin could not take his mind off the note. Not even once.

A few times he caught himself zoning out during an important meeting, just lost in thought about the beautiful maid and her note.

When the hour came, the king told the royal officials that he would be dining in his chambers as usual and left them to do so. Instead of this, he took a turn down the corridor that led straight to the kitchens.

It would be difficult to enter unnoticed, but he had to do this. Moving slowly, he pushed the doors open just enough to slip through. Dodging the gaze of others, he finally caught sight of the lovely maid.

She was standing in an area that was more secluded from the other  busy looking servants and chefs, so the king used this to his advantage.

She looked as beautiful as ever. Baldwin tucked himself behind a large box to observe her work. He felt a bit silly doing this, sneaking around his own palace. But it was as exciting as it was slightly embarrassing.

It seemed he had entered at just the right time as she was plating food onto the tray. After everything was positioned, the maid turned around to check behind her, ensuring nobody saw what she was about to do. Then she reached into her apron pocket and removed a small piece of parchment and pencil.

Leaning on the bench, she thought for a moment before beginning to write something. Baldwin’s heart fluttered in his chest. It was her. He was beyond happy at the discovery.

Despite being a powerful king, women never really showed interest in him. He knew it was because of his illness, but now it was different. She was different.

The king stepped out from his hiding place, approaching her slowly so as not to startle her. Reaching out a gloved hand, he tapped her on the shoulder, causing her to jump and turn around.

Her startled look turned to one of embarrassment as she realized her situation. “M-my lord! What are you doing here? Oh no, I should never have done anything, I am so sorry-” she stammered.

“It's alright, it's alright madame, there is no need to worry. I received your note this morning and I was truly flattered” he said gently, his beautiful blue eyes sinking into hers.

As y/n observed him, suddenly so close to her, she remembered exactly why she fell for him in the first place. He was so perfect. Blush rose to her cheeks as the embarrassment and shock melted away to bashful nervousness.

“Thank you sir” she said, voice barely above a whisper. 

“What is your name my lady?” Baldwin asked, taking her hand in his.

“Y/n your highness” a small smile crossing her face. Her hand was in his. This was a dream come true.

“Well y/n, how would you like to join me in my chambers for lunch?” he asked, smiling behind the iron mask as her eyes widened at the request.

“Yes, it would be my honor” she accepted eagerly. She could not believe this was happening, but it was. And it was even better than she could have possibly imagined.

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

The two shared the lunch that y/n had prepared on the balcony that afternoon, talking about everything there was to speak of. Baldwin even removed his mask.

Even though his cheeks and nose were covered with bandages, y/n felt honored to see a part of himself that he tried so desperately to keep hidden from the world.

This activity became regular as their relationship grew from simple acquaintances into something beautiful.

Love.

[hometoursandotherstuff]

1999 castle style home in Potomac, MD is colorful and over-the-top. It was featured in Home Beautiful and Decor Magazine, 2 publications I'm not familiar with. 4bds, 6ba, $3.25M + $406/mo HOA.

The entrance has a big gothic arch and large stripes on the walls. The wood trim is painted to match the stone.

Dramatic sweeping staircase has Medieval iron mesh railings. The walls have a faux Venetian plaster finish.

The home is a mix of styles that boggle my mind. This is a provincial music room in the turret.

The sitting room features an ultra modern fireplace wall.

It has what look to be sliding shelving and a mezzanine.

Yes, it definitely slides, note the hardware and the guide in the floor so you don't get crushed sitting there.

Dining room with the faux finish on the walls and coffered ceiling.

Butler's pantry off the dining room is even a kitchenette.

Stone guest half bath with a sink set into a carved base.

The kitchen is gigantic.

Nice green cabinets, a ladder to get to the uppermost ones, a gorgeous stone exhaust hood, and a banquette in the dining area.

A seating space with a fireplace that matches the exhaust hood.

Classy wood paneled office with an ornate ceiling.

Going up the turret stairs.

The mezzanine.

Small library/sitting room.

The primary is very large and has rounded shelf walls. Look at how the ceiling goes up higher above the bed and I think it has a mirror.

Very lavish bath.

Even the closet/dressing room is elegant.

Then, the stairs sweep down to the lower level.

To the rec room & pool room.

Wine cellar with tasting table & seating.

Kitchenette.

Home gym.

Large patio, but no pool.

Home is on 1.60 acres.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/9906-River-View-Ct-Potomac-MD-20854/37269504_zpid/

[enkas-illusion]

3, 2, 1… Blow The Candle 

Fandom / Pairing: Jujutsu Kaisen / Geto Suguru x f!reader

Rating: NSFW/Explicit - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Genre/Theme: Established relationship; non-sorcery au

Content warning: fluff, eventual smut, oral (m.receiving), explicit sexual content, language, angst, sexually frustrated Geto.

Summary: What is the best birthday gift for Suguru, you ask? Riling him up till he reaches his breaking point before surprising him on his birthday with a gift he’ll never forget (aka, you give him the best head he’s ever received).

Author's Note: Hello, I was down bad for Suguru, wanting to give him the glock-glock 9000 and boom, this one-shot was born. I was too lazy to write the entire smut scene but let me know if you’d like a Part 2, I could use the extra motivation T.T 

Thank you for reading! 

~ Eren’s Birdie

Song Dedication: Religion by Lana Del Rey

Geto Suguru wasn't the kind to celebrate his birthdays with much enthusiasm — it's not that he hated them… he just couldn't care less about them. For him, it was just a reminder of another year passing. And although he never said it out loud for fear of sounding too cheesy, he cared more about the time he got to spend with his people.

So this year, you wanted to please your boyfriend in a way that he preferred, giving him a good time that would be hard to forget. You’d both taken leaves from work for tomorrow to get some alone time all day together before going out for dinner with friends.

With just a few hours till midnight, you were making mental notes of everything you had planned for tomorrow, ticking each item off your checklist. Last year, you’d gotten him an electric guitar, based on Satoru’s recommendation – which Suguru loved, of course, but he had joked that you could simply bake him a cake and he’d be the happiest man on earth.

Which was ironic coming from someone who’d constantly bombard you with flowers and presents for relationship milestones and celebrations that were days or even months away. Suguru was all for spoiling his girl but when it came to receiving, his love language was, more often than not, physical touch.

And that’s what you decide you’d do. Your plan was to make tonight extra special. So, while you had materialistic gifts lined up, you had other things in mind to please the birthday boy.

You’d asked a friend to bake a batch of hash brownies, paying extra for good quality stuff, since you knew that’s how Suguru liked it – he was the type to easily distinguish good quality weed from the subpar one. 

You’d also ordered a custom made jersey of his favourite rugby team with his birth date ‘03’ on the back. Since Suguru can sniff out a surprise in an instant, you’d taken extra steps to get it delivered at Satoru’s address instead of yours.

On your way back from work in the evening, you’d received a call from your boyfriend, asking if you could bring take-out since he was too occupied with work to take on dinner duties tonight. You’d agreed, secretly cheering as it would be the perfect opportunity to make a few stops to pick up the brownies from your friend’s and the jersey from Satoru’s place.

When you arrive home to find him seated at the dining table, eyes fixed on the table, you almost fear that he’d gotten back earlier than expected.

“Baby, weren’t you working till late?” you question as you place the food parcel on the table before walking towards him to place a kiss on his temple. He brings his hand up to give you a side hug, not peeling his eyes off the screen.

“I am, I brought the work laptop home since I figured it’d take too long… would rather work here till late than at the office.” 

“Will you be working late into the night?” you ask, feeling a bit disappointed.

“Oh no, I’d be done before midnight hopefully… I know your obsession with wanting to be the first to wish me.” he chuckles. You quickly make an excuse of freshening up to hide your handbag into the cupboard, before returning to the living room again for dinner.

When you’re done with dinner, he quickly gets back to typing away hastily on his laptop. You quietly make your way to the bedroom, locking it behind you. You take the jersey, the box of brownies and other gifts out of your fully stuffed handbag… thanking the heavens for the nth time that your boyfriend was too focused on work to notice anything odd.

After wrapping his gifts and stacking them away in the cupboard, you take your time to shower and shave for the special occasion. You put on a white, skimpy, lace lingerie that leaves barely anything to the imagination before wearing his rugby jersey on top. You twirl in front of the mirror, noting that the jersey nearly covers your ass but would ride up easily if you bent down.

Your heart beats faster as you place a pair of leather handcuffs in a red paper box with black ribbon, placing it next to the box of brownies on the bed. You knew things were going to get wild so you recall your safe word ‘monkey’ just in case, but don’t fixate on it much since you trusted your boyfriend to know just how much he can push you before it gets too much. 

You had mentally prepared yourself for a sexually frustrated Suguru since you hadn’t allowed him to touch you for about 15 days now, which was the longest he’d gone without your touch ever since you started living together almost more than a year ago.

Usually you’d run to him to fuck you on your period since it always helped you with your cramps, but for the first week, it became an excuse to act cranky and bratty, which he took without complaining. You were aware that you probably shouldn’t press his buttons so much since his payback would be 10 times worse but you couldn’t help yourself since it was just so damn easy to rile him up. It revealed his animalistic side in bed, leaving no room for the gentle lover that he sometimes was, and you were a sucker for that.

You loved being ravaged by him because the aftercare was even better. Besides, it wasn’t easy for you either, to act so dumb and innocent in front of him while actively trying to seduce him throughout this whole week. You wanted nothing more than to jump his bones when he wasn’t even trying to seduce you. Your boyfriend was simply existing and it was enough to get you wet. 

At the beginning of your relationship, he’d quickly realised you were on par with him when it came to being horny to the point of borderline sex addict. For a short time, he had your number saved as ‘my succubus <3’ briefly to tease how much you craved his touch all the damn time. It didn’t last for long however, since you made him change it back to your name when Satoru accidentally read it when you’d called Suguru’s phone and started calling you that out loud at insanely inappropriate times in public. 

So imagine your boyfriend’s surprise and confusion when you, of all people, were asking for space because you ‘simply don’t feel like it.’ He respected your wishes, being a respectful gentleman, not wanting to overwhelm you.

Though you knew his patience was wearing thin and almost broke 3 days ago. You’d gotten out of the shower and dropped your towel to the ground as you paced around the room naked, taking longer than usual to decide what dress to put on, moving your hips seductively to The Weeknd’s more explicit and dirtier songs playing softly on your phone. He’d muttered a ‘for fuck’s sake’ before making his way to the bathroom for a quick shower, trying to calm himself down. He only stepped out of the bathroom when he was certain you’d left the house, a few moments after gently knocking on the bathroom door to inform him that you were leaving for work.

When Satoru had asked you why Suguru had been more irritated for the last two weeks, you told him about denying him sex to rile him up. Satoru chuckled, calling you devil incarnate… maybe so, but this devil was sure going to have the time of her life soon so it was a win-win for you.

As you spray on some perfume you know he loves, you hear his voice call out your name. You check the time and gasp – it’s 11:49PM. You place the red box on the bed for later, checking yourself out and fixing your hair one last time before opening the bedroom door.

“Baby, did you fall asleep?” Suguru speaks while sliding it into the bag and placing it on the coffee table. His back is turned to you so you think he doesn’t notice you tip-toeing into the living room.

“And here I was thinking you almost forgot it’s my birthd-” he abandons the joke, his words getting caught in his throat when his eyes land on you as he turns around. 

“Hi,” you giggle sheepishly, suddenly conscious about the way his eyes roam over your body. But you snap out of it just as quickly.

Pull yourself together – you have a plan to execute, a mission to accomplish!

“Sugu, do you like your present? The jersey?” you ask, feigning innocence as you twirl in place. He’s checking you out shamelessly with a devilish look on his face, “Love it.” 

“Hmm. Maybe you should put it on to see if it fits.” you reply as you seductively remove the top and toss it at him. He catches it, a cocky smile plastered on his face as he observes your antics in amusement – so this is what the forced abstinence was about.

“You’re right, we really should make sure it fits.” he peels off his own shirt before putting the jersey on in one swift motion. 

“Perfect.” you smile at him as you walk to where he’s standing near the sofa, your hands landing on his chest as you caress the fabric gently to smoothen the crinkles.

You could melt under how intense his gaze feels. You bite your lip as you blush, hands moving up to rest on his shoulders. He gives your ass a firm squeeze before lightly spanking it, causing you to yelp in surprise as his arms snake around your waist, trapping you.

“Baby, you are in so much trouble tonight.” he brings his lips closer to your ear, biting your earlobe.

“I’m counting on it.” you giggle at the tingling sensation of his lips on your neck. You pull yourself out of his arms and he lets you, following behind when you guide him by his wrist to settle him on the sofa.

“Let me make it up to you, birthday boy,” you say, bending down in front of him, intertwining your fingers with his to pin them to his sides.

You kiss him softly and ever so slowly before letting it deepen. Even with you trying your best to not let him touch you just yet, you know it's a useless effort given that your strength is nothing compared to his. Suguru tightens his grip, fingers still tightly intertwined with yours as he moves your hands to your lower back to lock them there.

You try to wiggle your hands out of his hold and feel him letting go. You try to take back control but his rough grip on your hips indicates otherwise as he pulls your body onto his till you're straddling him. 

You let out a groan as you put your hands on his chest and pull away to catch your breath, feeling his hard poke against your ass. Your hand reaches to your side to pull his wrist to your face as you check his watch, the screen lighting up just on time as 11:59PM turns to 12:00AM.

“Happy…” you give him a small peck on his forehead, “Birthday…” another one on the tip of his nose, “Babyyy.” last one landing on his lips.

He's smiling into the kiss as his grip relaxes a bit. You take the opportunity to slowly move down till you’re kneeling between his legs. You hastily unbutton his pants and he lifts his hips up to let you take them off completely.

Your hand strokes his dick as you lick the tip gently. You slide down his foreskin to reveal his wet tip, your mouth watering at the sight – Suguru might just have the prettiest dick you’ve ever seen.

“Missed this lil’ guy so much.” You tease and he lets out a snort, if there’s one thing that Suguru will never take an offence at is you joking about his dick, it simply doesn’t faze him – and why would it? He knows he’s big.

Your tongue rolls over his tip, causing him to sink down into the sofa, spreading his legs out further. You lick up the base before taking a few inches in your mouth as you hear your boyfriend let out a low groan.

He rests his head back as his eyes close, enjoying the way your tongue feels on his cock after so long. The peace doesn't last however, when his phone rings in the pocket of his pants. 

Mouth still connected to him, you reach a hand down to where his pants are bundled up and pull out his phone to silence it, tossing it onto the sofa next to him. You look up at his face as your mouth moves up and down his length. 

His phone rings again in a few seconds.

“For fucks sake…” he mutters as he looks at who's calling. You release his dick from your mouth, letting your hand take over.

“Who is it?” You ask, kissing at the base.

“Satoru.” he sighs, running his hands through his hair in frustration, “He's gonna keep calling till I answer.”

“It's okay, go ahead,” you assure him, your hands still.

He nods as he answers the call. But right as he's about to greet his best friend on the other end, you take him in your mouth, letting his tip hit the back of your throat slightly as you steady your hands on his thighs.

Suguru cusses out a loud ‘fuck’ as his hands move to your hair, gripping at your strands to steady your movements.

“Hello?” You can hear Satoru's confused tone.

“Sorry… I hit my… elbow.” Suguru speaks into the phone, almost mumbling the excuse, eyes closing as he tries to collect his thoughts.

“Happy birthdayyyyyy best frienddd!” You hear the blondie's sing-song squeal.

“Thank you Satoru.” Suguru says rather plainly, trying to sound as serious as he can. You’re determined to break him though, so you suck him the way only you know makes him lose his mind each time.

He moans as his hand wraps around your hair to take it in a makeshift ponytail. He yanks it… you know it's his way of asking you to behave. 

“I was honestly gonna knock on your door with a cake at midnight… but my favourite bakery was closed since the owner's away… thankfully, she'll be here tomorrow so I'll see you in the morning with only the best cake ever! Soooo what were you up to?” you hear Satoru's rambling on the other end, loving that him being so talkative is wearing Suguru’s patience out.

Your hands move to massage his balls and the base of his cock while your head bops in a steady rhythm, earning a soft groan as he moves his phone away from his face, putting it on mute. 

“Careful baby, this is your only warning.” he groans before unmuting. You release his dick with a pop.

Satoru is still going on when you hear him ask if he's the first to wish Suguru. Just as your boyfriend opens his mouth to speak, you lick at his sensitive tip, almost causing him to moan. He clears his throat to cover it up as he struggles to speak, “yeah… you are.”

“No way! So I beat your girl to it?!” Satoru rejoices.

“Yeah you did… She’s aslee- I’d hate to… wake her up… Bye.” Surugu cuts the call, not waiting for a reply. He tosses his phone to the side, eyes staring you down as you keep on blowing him.

“Baby, if you enjoy having your face stuffed so much…” his grip on your hair tightens while his other hand caresses your cheek briefly, deceitfully gentle, “... let me show you how it’s done.” 

Before you can register his words, you feel his dick hit the back of your throat, tears instantly welling in your eyes. You choke, letting out a few muffled moans and whimpers as he face fucks you, taking back his control.

The intensity feels too much but not enough for you to bail just yet. For times like these, where you cannot speak, you had a safe gesture, tapping his ass thrice on repeat… he’d protested initially by suggesting you do something else but you’d justified it by saying this was the only action that would seem out of place. He has accepted by now that, when it comes to arguments, he can never really win against you. He gave in eventually, still confident you wouldn’t ever need to use it cause, “I’m sure you’ll take anything I give you like a good girl.” One would say he was being too cocky but his words were like holy scripture, you obeyed every single word. 

Within minutes, he’s warning you that he’s about to cum, since he knows you’ve never really been a fan of swallowing. He’s about to pull out to cum on your tits but you swat his hand away, surprising him by sucking him even more fervently. Such a simple action is enough to make him lose his mind. He shoots his load into the back of your throat, warm liquid filling your mouth as you struggle to swallow it all.

When he pulls his cock out, a string of saliva connects it with your lips. You bring the back of your hand up to wipe your lips while he leans down to wipe your tears off your cheeks.

As he observes the black residue of mascara on his fingers, you grip his thighs for support as you stand up. He looks back at you, “God… I love you.”

“I love you too Suguru.” you smile at him as he digs his fingers into the flesh of your thighs, pulling you closer to kiss your abdomen. You giggle and run your fingers through his hair. He brings his arms up to secure them around your lower back before tackling you to the sofa in one quick motion, moving to position himself on top of you.

“SUGURU! I almost had a heart a-” he shuts up your complaint with a kiss and you let your words melt as you kiss him back, moaning at the way his hands rake whatever area of your skin they can find.

Your hands automatically move to his hair as he leaves hungry half kisses over your neck, making his way down to one of your breasts. He licks and bites the hard bud from over your bra, causing you to whimper at the touch. He repeats the action on your other nipple as wet patches form on the fabric.

Your breath hitches when you feel two fingers rub at your clothed pussy, already wet with your arousal.

“Wait… Sugu– please, wait.” you breathe out as he rubs your folds with more pressure. 

“Baby, I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep without fucking you tonight.” he groans as his eyes find yours, his face contorted.

“Suguru, I’m not letting you sleep a wink tonight…” you reassure him, cupping his face in your hands to give him a quick peck, “... but please take me to the bedroom first, I might have another present or two for you.”

[alittlebitofloveliness]

Tim Visits Curly in the Reformatory

Small fic I wrote based on @pumpkinsy0 's addition to this post.

*************************

The reformatory is the exact same as it was when Tim was here last, five years ago, before he got old enough and his juvenile record long enough the courts decided he was beyond reforming and started sending him to the cooler at the ripe old age of sixteen and a half. Impersonal grey stone walls, hard faced staff, heavy locks on each and every door. Tim is sure if he was in the cafeteria it would have the same chipped yellowish linoleum and serve the same barely palatable slop, just like he knows the barracks probably still house the same iron bunks and lumpy mattresses they make the inmates- sorry, students- make with tight hospital corners before anyone is allowed so much as a bite of food.

Of course, Tim won’t get to see any of his old haunts because as a non inmate the only place he’s allowed is the visitor area. He’s lucky even to be here- unsurprisingly Curly hasn’t proven himself to be a model inmate, and so was supposed to have lost visitation privileges for the month. Tim had to make up some sob story about a dead auntie and god rest her soul just to be allowed in the door.

The visitation room is made up of the same grey walls as the rest of the place, but the room has a half decent carpet and plastic chairs and tables scattered throughout. It’s better than the visitation he’s allowed in the cooler which is all cold metal benches and glass screens, two way telephones and ‘fifteen minutes no longer’.

Keys rattle and the door off the side of the room opens, a hard faced guard practically shoving Curly through the door, who’s grinning like a chessy cat, cussing the guard out in creole and looking extraordinarily pleased with himself.

He practically swaggers over, leaving the guard at the door- yet another perk of the reformatory, that they’re not chaining him to the table- and takes a seat across from Tim.

“Hey Tim.”

The reformatory has always suited Curly, always left him entirely in his element, able to wreak havoc and cause trouble without ever really getting punished for it. For someone who loves nothing more than attention and consequences he can deliberately fight back against, it’s perfect.

Tim dreads the day the courts give up on Curly too and start sending him to the cooler. The reformatory suits him, but the cooler might break him. There’s an undeniable softness to Curly- he hides it well, but it’s there, always has been, and Tim knows the Curly that goes into the cooler for the first time will not be the same Curly who comes out.

“Curly,” he nods, and Curly’s grin widens. He’s a feral housecat raised in a lion’s den, and has never once managed to actually keep his cool, “I see they chopped off that mop of yours.”

That makes him frown, rubbing a hand self consciously across his shaved head. 

“Ain’t like I had a choice now is it?”

Curly hates looking lousy- Tim blames the vanity on him sharing half a soul with Angel- and short hair has never suited him. 

They lapse into silence. Tim because silence is the only thing in the whole world that makes Curly uncomfortable and because the little shit deserves to squirm. Curly because he must know he isn’t supposed to have visitors, which means he knows Tim isn’t here for a mere social call. This visit is important, and Tim knows Curly knows it. His kid brother is stupid but he isn’t dumb, and he’s scarily perceptive when it comes to reading emotions. 

“How is it,” Tim asks when Curly starts fidgeting proper and glancing at the guard like he might try something to piss him off, “that you were sentenced to six months and after being here less than a week they’ve upped it to seven?”

Curly shrugs, that shit eating grin taking over his face once again, “got into it with some asshole in the dining hall. The guards didn’t much like that.”

“And how is it,” Tim continues, wishing for a cigarette and knowing he’ll get kicked out faster than lightning if he pulls one out here, “that you’ve already lost your visitation priviledges?”

“Poor old auntie delilah,” Curly drawls, dodging around the question, “good thing they were nice enough to let you come and comfort me about her passin’.”

“Cut the shit Curly.” Tim orders, “enough causin’ trouble. You could be outta here in four months if you keep your head down. Hell, maybe even three considering this place is prone to overcrowding and this is only your second offence. But only if you play right with the staff and make like a good little reformed schoolboy.”

“Why?” For all he likes his games, Curly’s done playing, eyes sharp, “What’s goin on?”

“We need you back in Tulsa.” 

“Why?” Curly demands again, a spark of panic lighting in his eye. This is unusual behaviour, especially for Tim, and loathe as he is to admit it, Curly can tell right off, “is something wrong with Angel?”

Per usual, Angel’s been the exact definition of a fucking piece of work ever since Curly got locked up, because the twins don’t do well with separation. Yesterday she and ma had gotten into it, and he’d practically had to pry her off the old bitch, but not before she’d ripped out a chunk of ma’s hair. Then she’d gone and baited his two best bruisers into a brawl at the dingo, and now Ricky was getting charged and Danny would be recovering for a few weeks. Just this morning she’d gone over to Buck Merril’s and if rumours were true had hooked up with one of Merril’s shadier friends, some asshole new in town and determined to cause trouble. If she kept up like this until Curly got back, Tim was gonna have to keep her on a very short leash- and Angela never liked following rules.

“She’s fine. Shackin’ up with that buddy of Merill’s, Jack or whatever the fuck, but she’s fine.”

Curly curses. “That asshole will swing at her sooner or later.”

“He won’t,” Tim and some of the gang had made that very clear to him before he drove down here, “and if he does I’ll take care of it.”

“Then what’s goin’ on? How come you want me playin’ goody two shoes in here, huh?”

Tim sighs. “You read the paper in here at all?”

Curly looks at him incredulously, and yeah, that’s fair. It was a stupid question.

“Of course you didn’t. I forgot you can’t read.”

“I can too!” Curly shouts, lowering his voice when the guard makes a move to grab him, “I can! It just…it ain’t easy. The letters all jump everywhere.”

“We need you in Tulsa,” Tim tells him, brushing past it. Reading has always been a sore spot with Curly, and Tim doesn’t want to shame him more than he already has. It wasn't his fault every teacher he’d ever had had glanced at his name on the registrar and immediately abandoned him as a lost cause. “Shit went down last week. You missed a hell of a rumble last week.”

“Fucking socs,” Cury scowls, “did we win?”

“Of course,” It’d be a cold day in hell before any of them lost a rumble to the socs, “but uh, the rumble wasn’t all that happened.”

“TIm.” Curly is as serious as he ever gets, “What happened? Why are you bein’ so weird?”

“Dallas is dead,” Tim admits, and hates that it stings. He hated Dally as much as he liked him, but it was rare he ever found someone he understood so well. The guys in his gang were all a little afraid of him and he liked it that way, and the Curtis’ were too nice for all they were good fighters, but Dally Winston was the same type of asshole as him, loyal to no one, and just about the only person Tim ever really had fun with. Much as he hated to admit it, he was really gonna miss him.

“Winston?” Curly’s eyebrows shoot up, “Shit, I’m sorry man. What happened?”

“Shot,” Tim manages, “he was pointing a heater at the fuzz, the dumbass.”

“Shit,” Curly repeats, shaking his head, “Dallas ain’t stupid. The fuck was he doin’ baiting the cops?”

“He was mad. That little dark haired kid, Johnny. Him and Ponyboy Curtis got caught up in a murder rap, stabbed some soc in the park and skipped town. Got caught up in some fire at the church they ran to, saved a bunch of kids. But Cade got caught up in it, died in the hospital a few days later. Guess ol’ Dal couldn’t take it. Shit kid, you really ain’t heard a lick of this from the papers?”

“Ponyboy was in a fire?” Curly asks, ignoring every other piece of Tim’s story just like he knew he would. Curly was stupid over that Curtis kid as much as he pretended he wasn’t, and it was obvious to anyone with eyes. Tim had seen Curly with crushes before, but none half as bad as the one he had on the Curtis kid. “Is he alright?”

“He’s fine. Got a concussion in the rumble but other than that he’s ok. Darry says he’s taking the whole situation mighty hard though. Him and Cade were good buddies, and Dal was in their gang.”

“They just lost their folks too,” Curly recalls, biting his lip. “Hey, uh, next time you see him tell him I said to take it easy, ok?”

Tim rolls his eyes at his kid brother being reduced to an absolute lovesick fool. “Tell him yourself, I ain’t your messenger.”

“C’mon man,” Curly whines, “don’t be a dick.”

“Don’t get mouthy,” Tim warns, rising when the guard starts making his way over, no doubt ready to tell them their time is up, “and quit causing trouble. Things haven’t cooled down with the socs yet. We need you in Tulsa.”

He allows himself a self satisfied grin as he’s escorted outside. If there’s one thing that can motivate Curly to do anything these days, it’s mentioning Ponyboy Curtis.

Maybe he should pay a visit to the redheaded kid. See how he reacts when he mentions Curly to him. After all, if Curly’s gonna date the kid, Tim should probably get to know him a bit first. Vet him y’know. Plus it’ll annoy Curly.

Four months later Tim makes the drive out to the reformatory and if he just so happens to bring a redheaded Curtis kid with him, so be it.  He’s helping Darry out ‘cause apparently the kid’s been too quiet since everything went down.

Curly’s eyes widen the second he stumbles out the gate and lays eyes on Tims new passenger. He stammers out some half crocked greeting, clearly caught off guard, and Ponyboy grins, despite looking a little confused. Tim watches Curly’s failed attempts to flirt the whole way back to Tulsa, hiding his laugher the whole time.

[morganandmolly]

Request: How about a fluffy little one-shot were Fili introduces the girl he has been courting (in secret) to his family at a family dinner...

@putm I hope you like it!!! I had so much fun writing this!!! 💖

An Unexpected Dinner

You had no idea what to do with your hands. You wrung them-un wrung them. Twisted and turned the rings on your fingers, and at this point, had resorted to biting your nails.

Who would blame you, though? Meeting the family of your love would result in anyone having a near nervous breakdown.

But Fili, oh sweet, sweet Fili had reassured you time and time again that it was ok, constantly kissing your brow, the braids handing from his beard always tickling your face.

It was one thing to meet their family, but another thing when you had been courting in secret.

Fili had not wanted to be so secretive about your relationship, as was the nature of Dwarves, always furiously proud of their One, but it had been you who had wanted to initially.

You were so scared they would not approve of you, so absolutely terrified that they would break you and Fili apart. He was heir to the newly reclaimed Erebor and you were just you. Nothing special, just a girl he had happened to fall in love with.

So this is where you were standing in the cavernous halls of Erebor, still wringing, twisting and biting the nails of your now sweaty hands. You didn’t want to wait any longer. Fili had promised to retrieve you for dinner but your mind kept spinning, and once that happened, there was no turning it off.

You were so deep in your thoughts, you hardly noticed a thick arm wrapping around your waist. The braids tickled your ear, and suddenly, all was right in the world.

“My love, what are you doing here? I told you I would come get you.”

A rich warm musk enveloped your senses. Just the scent of him made you feel safer and more calm.

You turned, keeping his arm tucked firmly around your waist, and looked up at him.

“I was nervous, I couldn’t….well, I couldn’t wait any longer.” You cast your eyes down, now feeling sheepish.

He put your chin beneath his thumb and forefinger, his gaze softening infinitely.

“There is nothing to be worried about. I’ve wanted you to meet them for as long as I’ve known you. I already know they’ll love you, just as I do Amralime.”

That was all it took for your heart to melt. He crushed you against him, his lips meeting yours. You found yourself twirling the bead at the base of one of his braids.

You broke apart and took a deep breath.

He held out his hand,

“Come, my love..”

*****

The door leading to the Kings dining hall was larger than expected. Dwarven iron, detailed with Khuzdul and engravings stared right back at you.

Fili knocked once, then twice. Your heart skipped, suddenly finding its home in your throat.

The next few seconds would undoubtedly determine your future.

“Enter,” a commanding voice spoke. Thorin. King under the Mountain and uncle to Fili.

With reaffirming squeeze, Fili opened the door.

“Hey Fi, about time, I was thinking you got lo-“

Kili stopped, the smile on his face dropping for three seconds, before he took you in, firmly grasping Fili’s hand, and broke out into the widest, goofiest grin you’ve ever seen.

“Well hello, there,” Kili’s voice dropped an octave, and he winked at her.

“Leave her be, Ki.” Fili chastised his younger brother, a dusting of pink coloring his cheeks, but she wasn’t as interested in them as she was in the raven haired king sitting at the head of the table.

“Uncle, this is-“

“I know who this is.”

She had never quite grown accustomed to the deep baritone of the kings voice. It was a reminder of his power; his commanding authority.

Fili stiffened beside her. Oh no. This. This was what she was afraid of.

Thorin sat, hands steepled and gaze hardened, looking directly at her. Her heart had lodged itself further in her throat, threatening to explode at any given second.

An assortment of food lay on the oak table. Meads, ales, breads and meats but her stomach was filled with nerves and only nerves.

“King Under the Mountain. That is my title, Fili. Do you really think my heir can go sneaking around the castle, courting a woman, without my knowledge?”

The question was rhetorical.

Kili answered anyway.

“No, uncle he can’t,” despite the words, Kili’s face and demeanor remained bright, eyes gleaming mischievously.

Fili, ever the older brother, reached out and smacked Kili up top the head.

“Ow!”

She hadn’t even realized she had brought her other hand over, and clasped it tightly to the one she was holding with Fili’s.

“Uncle, I-“

She stopped him before Fili could finish.

It was now or never to be brave, and she had put this off for too long.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, your grace.” She curtsied to the best of your ability, although it was probably not near as good as what the king had seen in court.

She took a deep breath. “I want to apologize. I never meant to keep anything from you. Fili didn’t either. It was my idea to keep it a secret. I was just….well…” you trailed, and took looked at Fili, your sweet prince.

Fili, who had always supported you, encouraged you, loved you like no other. Fili, who would have gone to ends of the earth if it meant your happiness. Your Fili.

His gaze softened and his eyes told her to keep going.

Your resolve hardened and you looked back at Thorin.

It was time to be brave.

“I was afraid, your grace. You see, I love Fili something terrible, and I was concerned as I am not of noble birth that you would forbid me from seeing him. That’s why we kept it secret. But I love your nephew. If there is one thing I want you to know, it is that. ” And there it was. A weight you hadn’t even known you’ve been carrying, dissipated from your shoulders.

Something flickered in Thorin’s eyes.

Fili turned your head, replacing the same movement with his fingers on your chin like earlier.

“That would never happen. You are my love, my light, the air in which I breath and all that surrounds me.”

Your heart clenched at his words. You squeezed his hand.

“As you are mine.”

Kili sighed from the table and clutched a hand over his chest, “Don’t you just love love, uncle?”

Thorin stood, apparently deciding to ignore Kili and walk over to where they stood.

He stopped three paces from where they stood.

He looked at her, once up and once down, and steadied his gaze. His face revealed nothing.

Then, something happened that defied whatever she could have expected to happen, to happen.

Thorin smiled.

He clasped a hand on her shoulder.

“Well, I certainly can’t disagree with that. It is a pleasure to finally meet you. “

*****

Kili’s smile was even brighter somehow , and could barely hold still, already calling you ‘sister’ and telling you how you need to meet Tauriel, as he believed the two of you would have gotten along wonderfully.

“Come now, Fi! My One is an elf and uncle approved of us. Well, not at first, but eventually!This is a piece of cake compared to that!”

You had laughed at that. Kili did make a good point.

Fili never stopped touching you. If his hand wasn’t in yours, it was on your leg. His fingers would deftly brush a piece of hair behind your ears, or his shoulder would bump into your own. I’m right here, he is saying. I love you.

“So, sister,” Kili grinned, propping up his head on his hand, “When’s the wedding? Fili she does know about courtship rituals, right? As well as braiding and the eventual wedding night consumma-” Thorin placed a thick hand over Kili���s mouth, stifling the rest of his words.

Your cheeks flushed tomato red and you looked to your lap. You would not be the one to answer. Sure, you were courting and naturally the discussion of marriage was something to be brought up, but you and Fili hadn’t talked about that yet.

Of course you wanted to marry him. How could you not?

“Brother, I think my love has had enough interrogation for one day,” Fili squeezed your hand and you were grateful for the reprieve. But the question still prodded at the back of her mind. Fili did want to marry her….didn’t he?

******

The rest of the dinner was a splendid affair, Thorin beaming, listening to the tale of you and Fili met. You could see pride in the kings eyes. He obviously held his heir and nephew in the highest regard. Fili praised you, recounting tales of your beauty, bravery and how more deeply in love he became with you day by day.

Mahal, how could she have gotten so lucky.

The dinner did eventually end, with Thorin inviting you to the next one, “With Mother, this time!” Kili made sure to add.

Two down, one to go. Although, you had never been too concerned about Kili. But you had seemingly one over the King under the Mountain, and today, that would be enough. She would deal with meeting his mother another day.

******

A breeze blew softly on the rampart. She had always loved coming here with Fili. It had been an escape for them. Somewhere for just the two of them.

A few tendrils of hair blew and you tucked them behind your ear and breathed deeply.

“So, was it as bad as you were expecting?”

You smiled, turning to the voice behind you.

You put on a fake stern look. “Worse, in fact. I fear, I may have to never return.”

Fili feigned pain, clutching at his chest, “You wound me, my lady. I fear I may never recover at your absence.”

A laugh bubbled out of you and he walked closer. His arm running the length of your arm, a comforting gesture.

He looked at you then, the way he always looked at you. Blue eyes softening and a smile peaking out from his lips. His golden hair was illuminated by the moonlight, giving him an ethereal glow. He could have been one of the Valar in this light.

“I love you….you know that, right?”

“You better, especially after all I put up with tonight.” You meant for the remark to come off as lighthearted, but the smile he gave didn’t reach his eyes.

He fidgeted with his hands, and looked down. She couldn’t help but think about the exact same thing she had been doing just hours ago.

“Fili…” she said softly. He looked up at her and then her chest tightened in the sweetest way.

Tears glistened at the corner of his blue eyes and suddenly worried she had done something wrong. Had Thorin changed his mind and said something to the effect of them not being together?

She cupped his face, gently wiping a tear with the pad of her thumb. He closed his eyes, relishing in her hand and leaned his face into it.

“Everything I said earlier was true, you know…” his voice was husky, but barely above a whisper.

“I knew I loved you the moment I set my eyes on you. Not only are you beautiful, but…you’re brave. Braver than I. And strong. And you love….well….you love fiercely, otherwise I probably wouldn’t be crying.”

A choked laugh escaped her, and she realized her eyes felt watery too.

He took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders.

“What I’m trying to say is…” he trailed off, and reached for something in his deep blue velvet tunic.

A breath hitched in her throat, and she could have swore the whole of Arda stopped.

Fili knelt-not on one, but both knees in front of her. Not just a pledge, but a worship.

“I had these made the day after we met.” He opened his palm.

Her lip trembled.

A ring and a bead.

They hadn’t even been together yet, and he had them made. He had had so much faith from their first encounter that he knew- he knew-he would marry her.

The Golden Prince looked up at her with so much love. So much tenderness and raw hope. A stray tear escaped again.

“There is nothing in this world I want more than to be your husband. I knew it from the moment I looked at you. I knew there was no way I would let you go without eternally pledging my life, my soul and my heart to you. All of which you have become. You are my One.”

A sob escaped her, and she found herself down on her own two knees as well, cupping his face with her hands.

“Yes. There is nothing I want more.”

Fili’s smile rivaled the sun and moon together. His shining blue eyes, his tear streaked face. He was undoubtedly the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.

He took her hand gently, his thicker fingers encasing her own, and slid the ring on. A sturdy piece of Dwarven craft, engraved with intricacies she would most definitely ask about later rested coolly now on her fourth finger.

“And this,” he said handing out the bead. She took it, also cool and heavy in her palm.

They stood, and before she could even reorient herself on her feet, he was pulling her into him, arms wrapping around her waist and lips pressed together in a fiery kiss.

“You have made me the happiest Dwarf alive.” His voice was still raw with emotion.

She laughed and kissed him again. He pulled her tight and twirled her around.

“And you have made me the happiest woman. Now…”

She held up the bead in the moonlight, and thanked her old self that she had worn her hair down for the evening.

“Put a braid in my hair.”

[captainkirkk]

✩ WEEKLY FIC ROUND-UP ✩

All the fics I’ve read and really enjoyed in the past week-ish. Reminder: This list features any and all ratings and themes. Please look at tags and warnings on ao3 before reading.

DC

The Bachelor: Robin Edition by Vamillepudding

Gotham loses its Robin and Bruce Wayne loses a son. Tim finds one of these too tragic to bear. In his quest to make sure Bruce Wayne lives to see the next year, he strikes upon the perfect solution: another son.

-

His best bet is, naturally, Crime Alley.

By 8 pm that day, Drake Manor is filled with ten black-haired, blue-eyed boys sitting around the large dining table, looking around the room suspiciously.

Well. Eleven. But Tim doesn’t think he counts.

ATLA

Dish Duty by Princeliest

All Zuko had been trying to do was wash some dishes. Or: The one where Zuko and Katara both mean well, but still can't find their footing around each other in time to prevent explosive shouting, broken dishes, an impromptu arrest, and Team Avatar's third- nay, fourth jailbreak. Fifth? They've lost count at this point, but at least they're not willing to lose Zuko... now, if only he realized that.

Merlin

all oak and iron bound by numinousnumbat

Some of those born with magic are repelled by iron. Merlin wished he knew how much iron there was in Camelot before he started his new life there.

HTTYD

Abandon Hope Who Enters Here (everyone who enters here) by JaggedEmeraldsOfGold

Eret had spoken about the mindless cruelty of Drago’s base and soldiers, but there’s nothing like seeing it in front of her to make it really, really sink in. She’d wanted to empathize, but she doesn’t think she really understood.

She does now.

Astrid leans her head back until it hits the wall behind her, and blinks up at the ceiling.

It’s going to be a long three days.

Or: Instead of facing the Monstrous Nightmare in the Kill Ring, Hiccup packs up and leaves Berk on Toothless, defeating the Red Death on his own as he goes. Six years later, Hiccup has royally fucked up– Hiccup has severely underestimated Drago, and now Hiccup is cramped, tired, hungry, without his prosthetic, and he really, really, really misses Toothless.

Imagine his surprise (read: complete and utter dread) when he wakes up one day to see absolutely none other than Astrid Hofferson, Snotlout Jorgenson, Fishlegs Ingerman, and Ruffnut and Tuffnut Thorston sitting in the cell across from him.

against the wind by underpassgraffiti

When Hiccup and Snotlout get stranded, they have to work together to stay alive.

Easier said than done.

To End a War by GhostStone

Stoick may not listen to Hiccup, but there is one person he does listen to on occasion. And that one person just happens to be someone who will listen to Hiccup.

An AU where the night before he is meant to kill the dragon, Hiccup realized how awful his plan is and goes to Gobber for help.

the soul of a dragon by castelia

Soulmarks amongst humans are easily identifiable: they are words tattooed on skin, words to be spoken during the first moment where two people truly connect. No one believes dragons have soulmarks, let alone that a dragon and a human can share a soul bond.

Until Hiccup.

[pricegouge]

Fatted Rabbit Part Seven on AO3

Contents

Bearshifter!Price x reader | explicit

The alcohol is definitely making you sentimental and it's hard not to reflect on how isolated you'd been for… so many years. These old locals aren't your friends, but they're certainly friendly. You hadn't planned on putting down any roots here, but then John happened, and now Soap and maybe even Simon. The old Wild fan who you celebrate with when the muppets win. The night receptionist at the gym. You're not sure when it happened, but at some point you'd allowed yourself to become enmeshed - just a bit - in the tapestry of this town.

CW: alcohol consumption, heavy petting but no sex

The place John chooses is understated and casual, for which you're relieved. You don't mind being wined and dined but you'd dressed comfortably, with only skating in mind, so you're glad he hasn't brought you to some fancy touristy place downtown. He holds doors open for you and walks around like a peacock when his hand settles low on your back. He asks for a booth and at this point, you're not even surprised when he tucks in next to you instead of opposite, his big thigh resting warm and sturdy against your own; his elbow placed firmly on the table in front of you so you have to lean against his tricep to read the one menu he's apparently decided you'll share.

It's… nice.

You ask to see the salad section when he settles on some sloppy pile of meats, caramelized veggies, and eggs. He pulls a face at that but obliges and you decide to believe that's not somehow weight related.

"This one looks good," John comments a little too-blandly, pointing at a trough consisting of ninety percent steak and maybe a handful of arugula.

"Are you anemic? Should I be worried?"

John laughs, his arm shaking slightly against your chest. "It's actually your iron levels I'm worried about."

Ah. That's… maybe a little weird, but cute.

"I'm fine, John. Don't have much of an appetite, to be honest."

John looks a little miffed by this but doesn't comment when you ask the waitress for a simple Caesar. He gets his meat monstrosity and asks for it bloody in a voice that could charm the skin of a snake. He knows what he's doing, too, based on the entirely too innocent smile he gives the waitress as he moves onto his drink order, a strawberry shake. You can't help but laugh a little at him.

"I didn't expect you to have such a sweet tooth considering how skinny you are," you confide, a teasing smirk on your face which is immediately wiped straight off when John gives you a hurt, borderline panicked look.

"You think I'm skinny!?"

"Uh… no, like -. I mean, in shape. Fit. Sorry, no, you're definitely not skinny. That was poorly worded." You're floundering, trying desperately to fix whatever it is you'd fucked up. It had never occurred to you that someone wouldn't want to be called skinny, though it makes sense now that someone who clearly put as much work into maintaining his body would never want to be called scrawny. Christ, you'd fucked up. That's twice now. Oh god, he's never going to want to see you again. "I'm so sorry, I only meant -."

But John's peering back at you suspiciously now and it has your hands wringing. "It's okay, honey," he says after a moment, clears his throat. "I uh… lost a lot of weight over the winter. Suppose I'm a little sensitive about it, is all."

You're still a nervous wreck, doubly afraid now that you've upset him. Fucking hell, man's probably got some health issues he's getting over and you had to go and comment on his fucking body. "I'm so, so sorry, I should've thought -."

"Sweetheart, look at me. You're fine. I'm not mad."

Holy shit, he's not. He's -.

Right. This is John.

"Besides, you're right," he continues brightly, beaming at the waitress when she places the shake in front of him. "I am a little twiggy. Let's see if we can't fix that, eh?"

You're still mortified that you even commented on his body. After all the bullshit you've put up with in your life, you know better than to pull this shit. You hadn't meant it negatively, of course, but you know from first hand experience how little that matters. John looks happy enough now, but you won't soon forget how hurt he'd looked after your comment. You're still mulling over the best way to move on when he offers you a sip off his pink treat, dopey smile in place. You can't say no to that and he somehow manages to look even more pleased when you take a sip from his straw.

"So… weight loss… did you have any health scares?"

"Hm?" He jolts, eyes focused entirely on your lips. "Oh, no. Strong as a bear," he winks - weird. "Just lose my appetite under the Arizona sun. Always spend all summer trying to gain the weight back," he laughs, a little sad. "Good excuse to indulge, though."

"Well, indulge away. I do think you look good, by the way. Bet you'll look even better when you're comfortable and confident."

John smiles and kisses your forehead with slightly sticky lips. "Thanks, bunny. I think you look very good too, by the way."

He says it the same way he'd appraised the menu. "Thank you," you mutter, grateful that the waitress chooses that moment to return so he doesn't notice how much you blush from his attentions. It's still odd to you, someone as absurdly handsome as John Price being this sweet on you.

John eats like someone's coming to steal it off his plate. He remembers himself maybe midway through his burger and offers you a bite, but when you shake your head he shrugs and goes back to scarfing it like a stray dog. It's kind of impressive, honestly. More out of curiosity than any genuine hunger, you slowly and obviously grab a French fry from his plate which prompts him to grin goofily around a mouthful and spin the plate so the fries are closer to you. You'd been worried for a moment there that he may have some kind of feeder kink, but the voracity with which he's shoveling food into his own mouth combined with how he picks a singular cherry tomato off your dish has you thinking food might be more of a love language to him. That's okay. Cute. You can handle that.

John doesn't throw in the towel until his plate is completely cleared and when you see him eyeing your half full bowl you laugh and slide it his way. He laughs too, and says he'll make you something at the bar later to make up for it. You're not sure you'll take him up on that, but you won't lie that the ease with which he guarantees your next meal means a lot to you, considering how often a spoonful of peanut butter counts as dinner for you these days.

The waitress asks if you want dessert and John eyes you hopefully.

"You go right ahead, big guy, but I'm out."

With a sigh, he admits he should probably go relieve Simon and the two of you pack up without any sweets.

You follow him to the bar and he guides your Jeep back past a little awning and behind the building. He opens your door for you once you put it in park and gives you a hand down. "You can park right here anytime you need, honey," he says and you can't deny that the privacy afforded by the two surrounding walls is pretty tempting.

John takes you in through the kitchen where you find the most intimidating man you've ever seen in your life. He's muscled like a bull and taller even than John. A shock of pale blond hair; scarred, furrowed brows over dark, blank eyes; a black surgical mask and a matching baby gap t-shirt pulled taut over biceps bigger than your head. Here is a man that could make even Phil flinch just by yawning a little too hard, surely, and when he greets John, his voice is low like an oncoming bulldozer and just as deadly.

"Where the fuck 'ave you been?"

John doesn't even flinch. "Got lunch."

The blond man turns his gaze upon you for exactly forty-three seconds. Technically, his expression is completely neutral, but you can't help feeling like he's brought a pumpkin gutter to your eye socket, taken your measure by literally weighing whatever he finds in there. (Metric, of course, for accuracy's sake.)

"'Hope you 'ad fun. I fuckin' quit."

"Sure, sure," John rolls his eyes. He nods toward the front of the shop, "How's he doing?"

"Can't speak English."

"You can barely speak English, you filthy manc. How'd he do with customers?"

"Gave out 'is number three times, if that's what you're looking for in a keep."

John shrugs, "If it keeps 'em coming back."

"Gaz would've never."

"No, Gaz would've gotten theirs. He good with the till?"

"'Ardly trusted him with it, did I?"

"Christ, Simon, did you train him on anything?"

"Too busy house breaking 'im."

John snorts. "How'd he do, honest?"

"Hmph," Simon grunts.

"Hmph?" John repeats, valley girl inflection.

"Mm."

John gives you a 'holy shit, you seeing this?' look. "That good?"

"Said what I said. This the bird?" Simon nods at you, but John is hardly deterred.

"Yes. Should I extend him a year round offer, then?"

The other man's turn to ignore John: "Hi, pet. Nice to meet you."

"You're Simon, I gather?" You grit down on your resolve and extend him a hand which he gracefully doesn't crush in his calloused palm. "I believe I have you to thank for a great coffee date?"

"That's right, so if you ever want to trade up, I know plenty of things -."

But whatever he knows, you never will because John chooses that moment to get adorably jealous. "Awrigh', 'nough of tha'." His accent is thick when his hand finds your shoulder and guides you through the swing door into the front area. You pop out behind the bar, where a roguishly handsome man with a short cropped mohawk and upsettingly blue eyes is already grinning at you, probably having heard every word from the kitchen.

Sure enough, you have enough time to hear Simon warn John he was going to regret that before the mohawked man is inching closer. "Hi, bonnie," he greets you in a thick Scottish accent and you don't even have a chance to respond before John is right there, crowding you just enough to put the Scot on his back foot.

"Soap," John greets the other man, and mohawk smiles warmly at his boss, devilish eyes glinting with easy charm and just a touch of mischief.

"Price. Who's the lass?"

"Your test subject tonight. Pretend she's just a regular customer who doesn't know what she wants -." John guides you around the end of the bar to the very last stool as he speaks. "What would you start her off with?"

"Tha's easy, bonnie lass like her. Sit tight, hen." Soap (Soap?) gets to work behind the bar as John ducks back into the kitchen area for a moment. Whatever Soap's making looks simple enough, maybe four ingredients, but he makes it into an art form, coating the glass with whatever sticky syrup he's using for flavor before pouring his mix in and adding garnish. John returns wielding a laptop just in time to see Soap putting back the ingredients he'd used. Soap misses the small, pleasantly surprised look that crosses John's face, but you don't, and you understand when you take a sip; the light, citrusy flavor not at all what you'd expected when you saw him break out the thick syrup. You can't help your hum of satisfaction and Soap beams. "Good, right? Not too heavy?"

"Nope, just right. Thank you."

"Good, means you'll be able to drink all night," he winks. He turns to John, motioning to the register. "Am I…?"

"No, but you know how much that would cost?" John asks as he settles next to you and powers on his laptop.

"Sixteen ninety nine," Soap answers confidently and you nearly spit the drink back out.

But John is unaffected, sliding you the remote as he pulls up some scheduling app. "Good lad," he tells Soap and the man nods once, before getting lost on the other side of the bar, cleaning glasses.

John waits until the audience has left to sneak a sip from your drink. You raise a brow at him and he nods his approval before returning it to you. You settle on some old Quantum Leap reruns and John conveniently makes it clear exactly then that you need only say if you get bored.

You can't help but grin at him. "Unlikely. My buddy made up a hell of a drinking game for this show. Been a while since I've played it so I'll have to check the rules, but I think I can keep myself entertained for as long as this block goes."

"Drinking game for a show?" John asks, apprehensive.

"'Course, boss," Soap calls from the other end, not bothering to hide his eavesdropping. "When they, then you…" To you he adds, "Drink whenever Scott Bakula looks in a mirror?"

"That's what? One to start? We can do better." And just like that, you text a friend you hadn't been allowed to speak to in years.

You don't, so you send him the new one and within moments you're settling in to intentionally get tipsy, something you haven't done since the first time Phil laid a hand on you. There's a part of you that can't help feeling this is a bad idea, but another, much larger part of you is determined to put these fears in the past. So you share the rules with Soap and John nods approvingly when he pours himself a water to drink along with you. It's silly, and you feel a little weird drinking by yourself, but John's left hand stays rooted to your thigh, and Soap is eager to make sure you drink every time you're queued. He keeps your glass full, each drink slightly different. You comment exactly once that you don't want to mix your liquors and after that, Soap keeps you plied with the same honeyed whiskey he'd started you off with. They're all delicious, and John seems to agree if his tiny nods after each sample is any indication.

Eventually, real customers start bellying up and John sneaks back behind the bar with a kiss to your temple. By now you've switched the entertainment to the game seven you've been dreading, and the quiet old man next to you seems invested so you shoot the shit with him for a bit. Soap does well, from what you can tell. At least well enough that John feels comfortable spending much of the night in the kitchen. He pops out occasionally to offer you scraps, and check the score, says he's 'starting to get invested in these muppets.' John gloms on pretty quickly to the fact that melty cheese is your weak point, and you end up eating nearly a full dinner despite your general queasiness. The small crowd that gathers around the bar is mostly older, but they're all friendly, and the atmosphere is quiet enough that personal conversations eventually grow to include the whole group and you can't help the smile that slowly grows to overtake your face. The alcohol is definitely making you sentimental and it's hard not to reflect on how isolated you'd been for… so many years. These old locals aren't your friends, but they're certainly friendly. You hadn't planned on putting down any roots here, but then John happened, and now Soap and maybe even Simon. The old Wild fan who you celebrate with when the muppets win. The night receptionist at the gym. You're not sure when it happened, but at some point you'd allowed yourself to become enmeshed - just a bit - in the tapestry of this town. It's exactly what you said you wouldn't do, but when John subtly shakes a bottle of Advil at you from behind the kitchen saloon door, you can't bring yourself to regret it. You nod and he brings you out two along with a bottle of water. Soap switches you to ciders after that without being prompted. You're wary at first because of the sweetness, but he assures you the cider is light and crisp - that it comes from New York so you know it's good. You laugh, wondering if he knows, and take your first sip of home in years.

***

The good thing about living out of your car is you're never unprepared for anything. Before ascending to John's apartment, you stop by the Jeep to grab toiletries and pajamas. John grumbles about putting you in his clothes but you'd be mortified if you leaked on them so you make up some (not wholly untruthful) excuse about sensory issues and clothes needing to fit just right which you can see John filing away with the same seriousness he'd been using to prepare his schedule earlier. There's a nondescript door just in front of John's Suburban which he holds open for you. You lead the way up the stairs and laugh when you hear him hum appreciatively at the view it leaves him with. It turns to a squeak when he pinches just below the crease where your ass meets your thigh and then it's John's turn to laugh when the hand you reach back to stop him doesn't shove him away, simply keeps him in place. By now you've reached the landing and as John draws level with you, his heavy palm slides out and over your hip, coming to rest just a hair too low on your waistline to be decent. The landing is narrow, barely enough to fit a man as big as John, let alone your wide frame, but John doesn't seem in a hurry to open the door into his place. The only light source in the stairway is a small night light back behind John's calves and the ambient light coming through his curtained door panel. Backlit and bowed forward, John's presence is overwhelming. His scent - pine, petrichor, something personal - is inescapable and you almost wish he'd get the kiss you know is coming done and over with so you can get to finally (finally) sticking your face in his chest and just breathing.

Of course, then he does kiss you and you don't want it to end.

John's movements as he bridges the gap between you are slow and impending when he steps closer, boots heavy as one wedges its way in between your shoes. You're already impossibly close when he reels you that final inch by the grip he still has on your waist, meeting your lips with a measured duck of his head that leaves your own tilted back, neck exposed to the wide breadth of his hand which he places on the side there, cradling your jaw in such a way it keeps your head tilted exactly the way he wants you.

It's slow, sweet. Hot. John's mustache tickles but not unpleasantly - too neat and well groomed to be prickly. His lips are soft, addictive, and when he deepens the kiss, his tongue scorches across your own. He groans contentedly and somehow you know this ridiculous man is pleased with the taste of you: honeyed whiskey and sweet cider, the bits of greasy cheese he himself made for you.

He breaks off but doesn't go far, burrows his nose right under your ear and takes a deep, steadying breath. "You drive me fucking crazy, bunny. 'S this alrigh'? I can kiss you?"

"Yes," you breathe and he's immediately back on you, both hands framing your jaw now. At some point your own have found the unzipped edges of his Carhart and you try pulling him closer. You only succeed in moving yourself, however, because you'd forgotten John is built like a brick shithouse, even if he thinks he's scrawny.

He obliges you anyway, backs you up enough that you gently bump into the wall, and then your skull is cupped in a protective hand as you're pushed more insistently against it. John is a solid, burning wall at your front. Even through the layers of thermals and jackets you can feel the heat of his skin and you're torn between the desire to be naked under him, sweaty, slick, panting; and to simply see if he'd humor you by holding still long enough to be used like a heating pad.

You pant when John moves to your neck, nipping at the soft skin there until he draws a breath from you that sounds suspiciously like his name. Like this, you can see where his beanie has ridden up just slightly, exposing a bit of hair above his temple and you feel like some repressed Victorian man catching a glimpse of ankle. You're on him in a moment, sniffing his scalp like a fucking dog and you'd maybe feel a little bad about it if not for the way he groans - if not for the way his overwhelming presence makes you feel a little crazy.

"Want you," John tells the bit of décolletage he's uncovered, 'T' enunciated with teeth framing collar bone. Some harefooted intrusive thought has you wishing he'd bite down, wanting to hear it crunch under his jaw. You can feel him now, hard against your hip. He doesn't do anything with it - doesn't grind it into your flesh or bully your hands down to feel the weight of it - but it's enough to know it's there, has your grip moving under his jacket, spanning his ribs.

"John," you gasp again - pleading maybe. Perhaps a warning.

"I know, honey. I know." He sounds miserable. "Won't touch, I promise. But this is okay, right? I can -. We can -."

"Yes."

You're not sure how or when John gets the door open. There's a clatter and a lighting change you barely register from behind your closed eyes and your lifted onto a counter and that's about the hottest thing anyone's ever been able to do for you so you spread your thighs wide on instinct and John takes his reward by slotting himself in as if he bought the fucking deed. "Won't touch, sweetheart, I promise," he repeats as he shoves your coat off your shoulders and admires his handiwork. "Just want to feel you. I want -. Want to…"

Instead of running his intentions by you verbally, John drops to his knees and buries his face in the crotch of your leggings. You yip in embarrassment and try to scramble further onto the counter to get away from him but his grip on your thighs may as well be made of iron. "John, that's… I'm -."

You're interrupted by the heavy sound of his breathing as he takes a fucking whiff of your cunt.

"John!"

"Christ, bunny, I could eat your right up," John murmurs, lips still pressed against your pussy. You gape at him but the look he gives you from under his heavy brow isn't chastised at all.

He looks rabid.

You gulp and John chuckles, deep and dark. "Not gonna," he assures you yet again, but the hot streak he licks up the seam of your leggings almost has you wishing he would. "Not gonna," he says again, and you realize he's saying it for his own benefit when he stands and places a quick peck on your mons. You're briefly embarrassed by the hair he can probably feel through your thin layers, but you catch him taking another quick sniff which -.

Well, it's odd but at least it completely eliminates every ounce of self-consciousness you've ever felt about your pussy.

John groans, works his teeth against the texture he's found.

"Not gonna?" you tease him, not really at all surprised by how breathless you sound.

John huffs, hot and humid where it gets trapped in the fabric beneath his mouth. "Not tonight," he agrees.

"C'mere." You try to help his weak morals by hauling him up by the shoulder. It's a laughable attempt at best, but John doesn't laugh as he obliges.

"Shouldn't have gotten you drunk," he pouts against your lips.

"Still would've been on my period," you remind him, embarrassed as if the word shouldn't even be spoken at a time like this.

"Always did like my lamb bloody."

"John!" he laughs and you tap him lightly on the pec, which only seems to please him more.

"You won't let me play with my food, bunny?" He's looming over you now, hand resting on the counter behind you. You try to imagine him with blood - your blood - all over his face and find -,

"It's not gross?"

John's smile is wolfish and you're caught in his jaws. "No, sweetheart. One of my favorite treats."

"Oh." That's -.

Why doesn't that gross you out?

"We'll talk about it in the morning, yeah? For now, let's get you comfy and ready for bed."

He gives you one final, lingering kiss. You're not sure when he managed to pry your bag off you, but he retrieves it from the kitchen floor and guides you to his en suite. When he runs the shower, you ask if he plans on joining and the look he gives you is that of an owl spotting a field mouse.

A stupid, drunken voice in your head is starting to believe this man actually wants to eat you.

"Won't touch."

When he leaves, he doesn't close the door so neither do you.

John's body wash doesn't smell like him. It's some citrusy bergamot number, at which you are entirely pissed. Still, the water is hot and the pressure is good so you luxuriate a bit, trying to angle yourself right so that the stream can massage some of your back ache away. You had a blast today, but you'll definitely be happy just to lay down soon. You hope John's not too proper to share a bed with you as you kinda really want to be snuggled. When you exit the shower to find him sitting on his bed, staring at you unabashedly as you towel off, you're pretty sure you have your answer. You give him a little show, giggling when he grunts at the way you bend to reach your bag. Eventually you do have to shut the door on him so you can take care of some more private concerns. He's in flannel trousers and not much else when you finally emerge from the bathroom, still just sitting on the edge of the bed. You stare at him for a moment, a little timid after your show. John is solid: thick muscles cording under a thin layer of fat. You think maybe his skin looks slightly baggy on him, but it's hard to tell through the thick hair that coats him. He lets you look your fill for a moment before motioning you closer with a quick curl of his fingers. You stand between his legs and his big palm skates up over your thigh, hooking his fingers into the band of the men's boxer briefs you wear to bed from where it's visible above your sweats and snapping it lightly.

"Whose are these?"

"Mine?"

"Mm. Coulda given you a pair of mine, if you wanted."

"I can wear my own underwear, thank you," you laugh. "Wait, are you jealous?"

"Yes," John admits easily, fingers pulling at the band as if threatening to take them off.

"Of what? I bought these myself," you laugh again.

"Ah." John has the decency to look sheepish as he gently lays the band back where he found it, double rolled to keep from indenting your skin.

"You're ridiculous, you know?" His jealousy rings a tiny little alarm in the back of your mind but you choose to ignore it until you're sober and can be more reasonable.

"No argument there. Are you ready for bed now or do you want to watch something?" He looks so sweet again, big puppy dog eyes as he looks up at you. This is the man who takes you on dates and kisses your temple in public. It's hard to reconcile him with the starved animal he'd been when he'd had you laid out on his counter, but you find you definitely don't mind the duality.

"Are you up for a movie?"

He nods, "Whatever you want, honey."

"Well, what I want is a stupid kids movie, but that'll probably ruin the mood so, like… you pick."

John just smiles up at you dopily. "That sounds perfect. Anything to help me keep it PG," he winks. It's not a good joke, but he's so proud of it it's hard not to laugh. You decide on Who Framed Roger Rabbit because it's a good goddamn movie and because you don't want to subject him to anything egregiously childish. John laughs at the title and too late you realize your mistake.

"Oh, bunny, you don't think this one will be too scary for you?"

"Shut up," you laugh, fluffing a pillow a little too aggressively in his direction. He pulls it from you easily and uses it to prop himself up against the headboard a bit. The position turns his belly into a perfect pillow of your own and you dive in, kissing the ticklish hairs under your cheek just to watch his abs twitch.

"Brave rabbit. Keep testing me and Judge Doom won't be the scariest thing you see tonight."

"Why do you call me a rabbit, anyway? That a Britishism?"

"Sure."

With John's fingers in your hair and the low buzz of whiskey still in your veins, you only make it to the patty cake bit before you're dozing off.

John notices. "Am I sleeping in here tonight, bunny?" His voice is low, an earthquake at the edge of your hearing.

"God I hope so," you mumble into his belly, mortified to find a bit of drool sticking to his hair. If he notices, he doesn't say anything and you fall back asleep for a while. When the movie ends, his shifting wakes you again. You wouldn't mind except it seems the Advil from earlier has finally worn off and you're starting to get crampy. You shift, restless, but John slots himself against your back, his skin like a furnace on your achy back.

"Shh, I got you sweetheart. Go back to bed." You do, right after pulling at his arm until his broad, warm palm places a good amount of pressure right over your sensitive belly, too content to feel self conscious.

Next>>

[huntingingoodwill]

an adult dinner party (m.m.)

masterlist

desc: when your attempts to help out marcus with a dinner party go south, he swoops in to save the day. not all heroes wear capes. some of them wear aprons.

a/n: a fluffy fic for the @happypedrohours charcuterie writing challenge based on the prompt poppy seed crackers w/ marcus m!!!

“Poppy seed crackers. Like the stuff they make opium from?” Marcus said, squinting at the ingredients list printed on the back of the box.

“I’m sure they’re not selling expiring opium at the grocery store clearance section.” You laughed, the words already sounding doubtful as they left your mouth. Would they sell opium at the grocery store?

“What’s opium?” Missy said, looking extremely bored as she lounged in the shopping cart.

“Google it.” You said, words overlapping with Marcus’ as he said, “You don’t need to know.”

“Whatever it is, it’s bad for you.” The two of you said in unison.

“Are we having opium at the dinner party?” Missy asked.

“Nah.” Marcus said, ruffling her hair. “Doubt that’d go down well with the other parents.”

You felt the box of crackers crinkle beneath your tense knuckles at the mention of the other parents.

As a member of the Parents’ Association at Missy’s school, it was Marcus’ turn to host a dinner for them tonight. You were determined to cook a feast to end all feasts for him, but you were definitely feeling the pressure.

“You’re gonna crush them.” He chuckled, extracting the crackers from your iron grip and tossing them to Missy, who caught them and placed them next to her in the cart.

“I just really want to help you make a good impression. I want to put on the perfect Adult Dinner Party.” You placed special emphasis on the last three words, aspirational ideas of sophisticated conversation over aperitifs flashing through your mind.

“Adult? Like X-rated?” Marcus grinned, killing your images of civilised chatter and hors d’oeuvres served on silver platters. His smile was illuminated by his phone as he skimmed over the frantic grocery list you had sent him, full of typos and vague ingredients.

“What’s ‘MEAT THE COLD KIND’?” he said, pointing at the words that flashed across his screen.

“I feel like ‘MEAT THE COLD KIND’ is pretty explanatory.” You said, drifting towards the cold cuts, tossing some prosciutto into the cart before steering towards the self-checkout area.

As you packed your groceries away, you watched as Marcus aimed the scanner at Missy, red lights flashing over her frame.

“Nothing.” She said, staring at the till where, naturally, no product registered. “Guess I’m worthless.” She joked.

“You’re priceless.” He corrected, turning the scanner on you. “And so are you.”

You rolled your eyes at his corniness, melting into his touch as he reached to cup your face in his large, warm hands, thumbs skimming the lines of your cheekbones.

“You’ll be fine tonight. Everything will be okay.” He mumbled, pressing a kiss to your forehead and pointedly ignoring Missy’s pleas for the both of you to get a room.

“I’ll be fine.” You repeated, taking a deep breath that seemed to usher out all the anxiety that lingered in your body. “Everything will be okay.”

“Everything is NOT okay!” You wailed later that evening, flying into Marcus’ arms as soon as he came into the kitchen. You had only ushered him out of the kitchen an hour earlier to get him to set the dining table and clean up some of the everyday clutter accrued in the living room, but it was already apparent that things weren’t turning out as you hoped.

“What’s wrong?” He frowned, holding you tight in his embrace.

“Turns about, despite my hopes and delusions, I am not Julia Child.” You groaned into the crook of his neck. “I can’t even fold the meat elegantly.” You said, gesturing at the haphazard ribbons of prosciutto splayed out on the charcuterie board.

“Can meat be folded elegantly?” Marcus said, arching an eyebrow.

“Don’t ask me! I wouldn’t know!” You threw your hands up in the air, sardonic words dripping in frustration.

He smiled, the image of calm amidst a kitchen that looked like a tornado had ripped through it, before using his thumb to swipe some flour off your cheek.

“That’s from the Beef Wellington.” You sighed.

“Honey, I’ve always loved your ambition.” He smiled, planting his hands on your shoulders.

“I think the parents of the association would love elegant prosciutto more than my ambition.”

He opened his mouth to protest, the shrill ring of the oven timer interrupting him.

“Help me get the Wellington, please.” You said, carving slices out of a block of cheese spotted with blue mould for the charcuterie board.

“Um, is the Wellington supposed to be so… pale?”

You dropped the knife, panic beginning to swell in your chest.

“How pale are we talking?”

“A grain of rice in a snowstorm?”

You dashed toward the oven, the swell of panic burgeoning into a wave of horror that crashed over you as you saw Marcus holding a Wellington encased with completely raw dough.

You stuck your hand in the oven, letting out a defeated wail.

“It’s not even on! It’s so cold in there, an ice cube would get goosebumps.”

You flopped onto the tiled kitchen floor, staring at the ceiling in defeat.

“You win, Adult Dinner Party. I surrender.” You breathed, exhausted.

“Mr and Mrs McCartney are here.” Missy said, appearing in the kitchen’s entryway.

“HELP!” You cried.

“Missy, stall them outside for a little. I’ll bring them in in a second.” Marcus sat down next to you as soon as Missy made a beeline for the door, smoothing stray hairs away from your face.

“Just go upstairs and get ready. I’ll handle it.” He soothed.

“Are you sure?” You sniffed.

“I’m sure. I can’t undercook the charcuterie board, can I? Charcuterie is French for ‘slap it on a wooden block and call it a day’.”

“I think Duolingo is lying to you.” You said, the smile returning to your face. He always knew how to do that.

“Maybe.” He smiled, offering you his arm and bringing you to your feet, the movement making a strange crunching noise that prompted the both of you to look at the floor.

You had managed to knock the box of crackers off the counter during your earlier flurry of movement, and he had stepped on them, reducing them to little crumbs that sprayed across the tile.

“Those crackers are driving me crazy.” You sighed.

“Same.” Marcus sighed, taking a peek out of the window to watch as Mr and Mrs McCartney pretended to listen to Missy tell an animated story out on the porch.

He ushered you toward the stairs.

“You’ll be okay?” You said, shooting an anxious look over your shoulder.

“I’ll be fine. We’ll be fine.” He said, his calming voice washing over you with a wave of relief.

“Thank you.” You whispered, turning to give him a parting kiss.

It was only 20 minutes later when you descended the stairs, greeted by a crowd of elegant parents, nibbling on charcuterie and cocktails made out of the week old carton of orange juice that had been sitting in the fridge, and the dregs of whatever liquor Marcus could find in the kitchen cupboard.

“You look amazing.” Marcus said, reaching for your hand, staring at you with a glint of awe in his eye, even if all you did was freshen up as quick as you could and thrown on whatever nice old thing was hanging in the closet.

“You are amazing.” You whispered, pulling him into the kitchen, poppy seed crumbs still underfoot.

“So are you.” He grinned, warm palms travelling over your sides and finding their place on your hips.

“The meat was folded very elegantly, and the poppy seed crackers were scarcely missed.” You muttered, lips upturning as your hand skimmed the front of his shirt, travelling up his chest to fix his tie. “I love you. You’re perfect.”

“You’re pretty wonderful yourself.” He chuckled. “Wellington’s in the fridge for tomorrow’s dinner and the pizza delivery guy said he’ll be here in five minutes. Is it the X-rated pizza party you were hoping for?”

You rolled your eyes, smacking him playfully on the arm.

“It’s Adult Dinner Party.” You corrected. “And yes, it’s everything I hoped for and more.”

Stealing a moment away from the party, the mild chatter continuing outside the door, your lips met in the middle of the kitchen, holding each other tight amongst powdery spills of flour, cracked eggshells and poppy seed cracker crumbs. The perfect embrace in the most imperfect of places.

[simdertalia]

🍓ᛉ ACNH Nordic Set ᛟ🍓

💗 Sims 4, Base game compatible/ Steam animation requires Cats & Dogs. 43 items

This set is brought about by the lovely patrons who voted 💗

As always, turning the brightness down on functional lamps will make them look better (not overly bright) due to my vertex paint issue in Blender.

Always suggested: bb.objects ON, it makes placing items much easier. For further placement tweaking, check out the TOOL mod.

You can raise & lower items with 0 and 9 on your keyboard.

Use the scale up & down feature on your keyboard to make the items larger or smaller to your liking. If you have a non-US keyboard, it may be different keys depending on which alphabet it uses.

Set contains: -Aebleskiver Pan | 1 swatch for cast iron | 759 poly -Aebleskiver Pan Full (with steam & no steam versions) | 1 swatch for cast iron | 1067 poly -Aebleskiver Pan (wall) | 1 swatch for cast iron | 789 poly -Aebleskiver Plate | 9 swatches for plate color | 848 poly -Aebleskiver Sugar Bowl | 2 swatches for spoon color | 334 poly -Bird Sculpture | 9 swatches | 461 poly -Bowl of Fruit | 7 swatches | 502 poly -Ceiling Lamp (for best look in game, turn brightness down) | 8 swatches | 1178 poly -Chair (8 items: is a living chair, each frame color has its own package file) | 8 swatches each | 1160 poly -Cloth for Coffee Table | 8 swatches | 110 poly -Cloth for Dining Table | 8 swatches | 316 poly -Cloth for Lowboard | 8 swatches | 90 poly -Cloth for Shelves | 8 swatches | 90 poly -Coconut Planter | 1 swatch | 1214 poly -Coffee Table | 1 swatches | 870 poly -Curtains (right & left) | 8 swatches each | 575 poly -Dining Table | 8 swatches | 834 poly -Jar of Jam | 6 swatches | 400 poly -Kitchen Valance Curtain | 8 swatches | 527 poly -Lowboard (lots of slots, & slot for TV) | 8 swatches | 552 poly -Mug | 8 swatches | 393 poly -Open Book | 7 swatches | 770 poly -Owl Sculpture | 8 swatches | 772 poly -Ring Dish | 2 swatches for rings color & 7 swatches for plate color, 14 total swatches | 438 poly -Shelves TV Stand (lots of slots, & slot for TV) | 8 swatches | 848 poly -Sofa (8 items: each frame color has its own package file) | 5 swatches for plate color | 3790 poly -Tree Sculpture | 8 swatches | 340 poly

Type “acnh nordic" into the search query in build mode to find  quickly. You can always find items like this, just begin typing  the title and it will appear.

As always, please let me know if you have any issues! Happy Simming! 💗

📁 Download all or pick & choose (SFS, No Ads): HERE

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📁 Download on Patreon

Will be public on September 30th, 2024 💗 Midnight CET

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