#oak dining set

[choicefurnituresuperstore]

Timeless Elegance: Transform Your Dining Space with Mid-Century Modern Style

In the world of interior design, certain trends never seem to go out of style. One such timeless and sophisticated aesthetic is Mid-Century Modern. Characterized by its clean lines, organic forms, and a touch of retro charm, this design style effortlessly marries functionality with elegance. If you're looking to revamp your dining area, consider pairing a large oak dining table with iconic mid-century chairs, such as Eames or Wegner designs, and incorporating retro-inspired lighting fixtures and bold, geometric patterns to create a captivating and enduring look.

At the heart of the Mid-Century Modern style is the dining table a classic piece that exudes warmth and versatility. The light oak's natural grain and soft hue offer a perfect foundation for the rest of the design elements. Its understated elegance complements a wide range of interior themes, making it a popular choice for modern homes seeking a touch of vintage flair.

To complete the Mid-Century Modern ambiance, select iconic mid-century chairs like the timeless Eames or Wegner designs. These chairs boast an artful blend of comfort and style, with their sleek profiles and ergonomic shapes. The chairs' premium craftsmanship ensures they not only add sophistication to the dining space but also provide a comfortable seating experience for families and guests alike.

Illuminate your dining area with retro-inspired lighting fixtures to capture the essence of the era. Opt for pendant lights with clean lines and geometric shapes, reminiscent of iconic lighting designs from the mid-20th century. The warm glow of these fixtures will create a cozy and inviting atmosphere for enjoyable meals and engaging conversations.

Add character and charm to the overall aesthetic with bold and eye-catching geometric patterns. Incorporate these patterns into textiles, such as area rugs, table runners, or chair cushions. Geometric wallpaper or artwork can also enliven the walls, enhancing the visual appeal of the dining area.

The Mid-Century Modern style offers an ageless and sophisticated look that seamlessly blends nostalgia with contemporary sensibilities. By combining an oak dining set, iconic mid-century chairs, retro-inspired lighting, and bold geometric patterns, you can transform your dining space into a captivating haven of elegance and timeless charm. Embrace this enduring design style, and your dining area will remain a source of admiration and delight for years to come.

[choice-furniture-superstore]

TRANSFORM YOUR DINING EXPERIENCE WITH UPHOLSTERED COMFORT: ELEVATE YOUR OAK DINING CHAIRS

When it comes to creating a welcoming and enjoyable dining experience, comfort plays a crucial role. While oak dining chairs are already known for their timeless beauty and durability, incorporating upholstered seating takes them to the next level of luxury and coziness. By choosing fabric or leather upholstery that complements your overall decor scheme, you can create a harmonious and inviting atmosphere that will leave your guests impressed and relaxed.

The addition of upholstery to your oak dining table and chairs not only enhances their comfort but also adds a touch of elegance and sophistication. Imagine sinking into a plush, padded seat that envelops you in a sense of luxury as you enjoy your meal. The softness and cushioning provided by upholstery make dining a more pleasurable experience, allowing you to linger at the table comfortably.

When selecting the upholstery for your oak dining chairs, consider the overall design and color scheme of your dining space. Choose fabrics or leathers that harmonize with the surrounding decor, creating a cohesive and inviting ambiance. You can opt for neutral shades like cream, gray, or taupe for a timeless and versatile look. Alternatively, if you want to make a bold statement, consider vibrant colors or patterns that add a pop of personality and visual interest to your dining area.

Not only does upholstered seating enhance comfort, but it also allows you to customize the style and texture of your dining chairs. Fabrics provide a wide range of options, from plush velvet to durable microfiber, catering to different preferences and lifestyles. Leather upholstery, on the other hand, exudes a sense of luxury and sophistication, adding a refined touch to your dining space.

Another benefit of upholstered oak dining chairs is their versatility. They seamlessly blend with various interior design styles, whether your dining area leans towards classic elegance or contemporary minimalism. The combination of the natural beauty of oak wood and the softness of upholstery creates a harmonious balance, elevating the overall aesthetic of your dining space.

So, why settle for ordinary dining chairs when you can transform your dining experience with upholstered comfort? Enhance the beauty and functionality of your oak dining room furniture by adding the luxurious touch of upholstery. Whether you choose fabric or leather, neutral tones or vibrant hues, the result will be a dining area that radiates warmth, style, and hospitality. Elevate your dining experience and create lasting memories with the perfect blend of comfort and elegance.

[jaderoberts]

Pick premium oak outdoor dining furniture to turn your patio into a next-level alfresco dining experience.✨

[rheya28]

Ink Heart Tattoo Shop ♥ The Sims 4: Speed Build // CC

Ink Heart is a small industrial tattoo shop that combines urban edge with a welcoming vibe. The space features graffitied and exposed brick walls, giving it a raw and artistic feel.

➽ Speed Build Video

➽ Rheya's Notes:

● Hello my lovelies! It's been a while since I last posted a build. I'm still quite busy with school until end of August, so build releases are gunna be inconsistent. I will try my best to upload and will notify you all if anything changes. ● Anyways, for this build I used Cepzid's tattoo mod! I placed this build as a generic lot type, but you can also have it set as a cafe!

➽ Important Notes:

●Please make sure to turn bb.moveobjects on! ● Please DO NOT reupload or claim as your own. ● Feel free to tag me if you are using it, I love seeing my build in other peoples save file ● Feel free to edit/tweak my builds, but please make sure to credit me as the original creator! ● Thank you to all CC Creators ● Please let me know if there's any problem with the build

➽ Lot Details

Lot Name: Ink Heart Tattoo Shop Lot type: Generic or Cafe Lot size: 30 x 20 Location: I built this in San Sequoia, but it could be placed anywhere

➽ MODS

● Tool Mod by Twisted Mexi ● Functional Tattoo Chair by Cepzid Creations

➽ CC List

Note: I reuse a lot of the same cc in all my builds, specifically cc's from felixandre, HeyHarrie, Tuds, and Pierisim so if you're interested in downloading past, present, future build from me i suggest getting all their cc sets to make downloading a little easier! other creators include Sooky, Charlypancakes, Sixam, Thecluttercat, Myshunosun, awingedllama, Peacemaker, kiwisim4. This will also ensure that the lots are complete and are not missing any items upon downloading ! Joyceisfox ● Simple Live pt [4] S-Imagination ● Nota Living Room [painting] Simlicy ● Sketches Sooky ● Abstract Framed Art Wooden frame Xtc ● Graffiti Pack House of Harlix ● Bafroom ● Baysic ● Harluxe ● Orjanic pt [1][2] Bbygyal123 ● Aesthetic Collection ● Martini FelixAndre ● Berlin pt [3] ● Chataeau pt [2] ● Colonial pt [3] ● Florence pt [4] ● Grove pt [1] ● Soho [all] CharlyPancakes ● M&S Construction pt [1] ● Sleepy Head Collection ● Soak Harrie ● Klean [all] ● Kwatei ● Octave pt [2][3][4] ● Spoons pt [2] ● Jardane ● Livin Rum ● Kichen Lilac Creative ● Jewelry Collection [sign] Little Dica ● Rise & Grind Myshunosun ● Arrie [laptop] ● Gale Dining [rug] Peacemaker ● Creta [Plant] ● Post Modern living [artwork] Pierisim ● Autie Vera ● Calderone ● Combles ● David Apartment pt [1] ● MCM pt [1][3][5] ● Oak House ● Stefan bedroom ● Unfold ● Winter Garden pt [1] ● Wood Land Ranch Mlyssmakescc ● Pufferhead [wall art] Ravasheen ● Art Attach Graffiti Sixam ● Hotel Bedroom [desk] ● Teen room [wall light] The Clutter Cat ● Sunny Sundae pt [3] Syboulette ● Contemporary Haven [wall art] ● East Oak [wall art] Tuds ● 2nd Wave [chair] ● Cross [wall light]

● DOWNLOAD Tray File and CC list: Patreon Page ● Origin ID: anrheya [previous name: applez] ● Twitter: Rheya28__ ● Tiktok: Rheya28__ ● Youtube: Rheya28__

[justinrodgers]

Traditional Dining Room

[pepsichrry]

Ride || Theodore F. Nott

Summary: An arranged marriage between two Pureblood families is almost common, but what happens when a sudden infatuation is brought into the mix.

Set after the Battle of Hogwarts!

Warnings: Sexual content, smut, Mentions of violence, angst, unhealthy relationship, Theo is obsessed with his wife

—————————————————————————

Theo felt himself slipping away. Not quite how he did when he’d received the Dark Mark, and not quite how he did when he watched the life vanish from his mother’s eyes. This time, it felt different.

He watched you through foggy window panes in the dewy spring mornings and from across the dining table as you ate breakfast. He couldn’t stop watching you, and it drove him insane. His wife drove him insane. Of course he’d heard such sentences from his father’s colleagues and other men who complained, but those feelings were nothing alike Theo’s. Not like the pang in his heart when he watched you in the grassy fields of the estate or the fondness disguised by hard eyes as you exchanged pleasantries like strangers. After all, you really were strangers.

But Theo had come to know you like you didn’t even know yourself. To him, you were anything but a stranger.

He couldn’t even count the amount of times that he had dreamt of you sleeping beside him, feeling your warmth, imagining what it would be like to kiss you and please you like any husband would wish to, Merlin, like any man who lay eyes upon you would. If it weren’t for your complete lack of interest in him, he would have asked you to have your way with him already, but ever since the wedding, you hadn’t been interested in going near him at all. He couldn’t blame you, at first he had been opposed to marrying so young, claiming that his father was taking away his freedom, stripping him of his youth and leaving him to be stuck with a stranger in his house. But, oh, how wrong he was.

You were a delight, a pure and innocent light in the darkness of the family estate. You brought with you little possessions, maybe only a few dresses and boxes of trinkets, but you gave life to the creaking floorboards and dusty walls. In a matter of months, you’d planted flowers and fruit trees, stripped the dark rooms of misery and replaced it with sunlight and brighter decor. All of a sudden, the fires were lit and the house no longer sent a chill down your spine. That, at least, Theo could be grateful for.

Taking note of the subtle changes made, he always made sure to thank you with something or another, whether it be silky gowns, sparkling jewellery, shoes or perfume. But none of it seemed to impress you.

As time went on, Theo became aware of your distaste towards his expensive gifts and tried everything he could to satisfy you from an arms length, but it was difficult. When he’d been in school, a pretty bracelet would have been enough to get a girl to want him, but it seemed that there was nothing that he could give that made you want him. So he decided on giving you the only thing he could think that you’d want from him; space.

In leaving you alone, he began to observe you whenever he could, and in doing so, he started to understand that you didn’t desire dresses or sparkles to admire yourself in, though he did see you trying his previous gifts on in front of the mirror with a grin, and instead he realised that you enjoyed sitting in the library with a book or lounging in the garden eating fruits.

He admired you every day when you wore your lacy white dresses in the spring sunshine, hair falling over your sun-kissed shoulders. He admired you as you sipped at the fresh lemonade the house elves had prepared and watched as your soft lips enveloped the glass. He admired you as you lounged in the living room with bare feet on the oak floor. He even admired you in your bedroom from time to time as you slept, praying to Merlin that you wouldn’t wake up as he smoothed gentle fingers over your temple.

Sometimes, though, he wished that you would wake up, catch him in the act. He wondered what you’d say, how your face would contort into confusion or shock, he wondered if you’d let him stay. So, as time went on, he visited you every night whilst you slept, enjoying the close calls and nervousness that ran through him at the thought of you waking up. He took pleasure in the thumping of his heart and how you stirred in your sleep from time to time as the mattress dipped beside you. Every night, he wanted to kiss your plump lips as you slept, wondering if the action would wake you or if you’d be angry if he did. He knew it’d be wrong, but he couldn’t help how much he wanted to kiss your beautiful lips and freckled skin.

He imagined how it’d feel to run his lips and tongue over your body, lose himself in the supple curves of your hips and breasts or in the soft feeling of your hair. Sometimes he’d dream it too and wake up sticking to his sheets with a mixture of sweat and precum. It was a guilty pleasure to relieve himself thinking of you and everything he did to you in his imagination.

You were a sinful temptation wrapped in pure white bedsheets and gowns, tormenting him until he had to excuse himself from dinner with a swollen cock and a pink face.

His wife drove him insane. And she was oblivious.

One night, as Theo dodged the creaky floorboards outside of your bedroom, he heard it. The soft sigh falling from your lips, indicating that you weren’t asleep. The warm light emitting from the ajar door drew him in, enticing him into pushing gently against the barrier between him and you. And upon opening the door, he saw you.

You lay spread across the bed, hair framing your head like a shining halo in lamplight as your nightgown was pulled up to your stomach, held in place by one hand whilst the other reached between your open legs, though the sight was obscured by the flesh of your thigh as you lay parallel to the door.

Theo cursed mentally, wishing that you’d lay with your head on your pillow so that he could really see what your hand was toying with. He felt himself grow hot and shifted as his trousers tightened uncomfortably, alerting you of his presence when you heard the creak of a floorboard. Fuck. You looked at him with wide eyes, a deer caught in headlights as you ripped your small hand from between your thighs. Before you could even begin to stutter, Theo chocked out a bashful ‘Sorry’ before turning and slamming the door behind him.

In that moment, he wished that the ground would swallow him up. He had never been so shy around a girl, especially one that was lying, touching herself in his house, not that there had been any before. His head softly thumped against your door as he slumped back. But he didn’t have much time to feel sorry for himself as your door opened suddenly.

He spun to look at you. It had seemed that you’d smoothed down your wild hair before coming to find him as it hung over your shoulders like usual. Your eyes met his in the darkness of the hallway and he nearly collapsed. Between the blood from his head running to his groin and the look in your eyes, he thought that maybe he would collapse, but he cleared his throat and straightened up to his full height to look down at you with his usual stoic expression.

Your eyes trailed down his neck, to his chest and then, they looked straight down to the sizeable bulge in his slacks. He had worn neatly ironed trousers and a button down shirt to visit his father that day, and secretly wished that he had changed his clothes before coming to see you that night. It would have been more comfortable for his raging hard-on.

“Would you like to come in?”

Theo’s prayers must have been answered, because your soft voice lead him through your doorframe. He barely even registered what was going on until he was sat on your mattress like many nights before, but this time, you were awake, looking at him with lustrous eyes and flushed skin on your cheeks, neck and…

You leaned into him once he was settled on your bed and brushed your damp lips onto his own. His jaw hung open and his eyes were wide as they looked at you. This must have been a dream.

Surely he was awake judging by the feeling of your lips on his own and the hammering of his heart and the throbbing between his legs. You kissed him with fervour, running your hands over his shoulders tenderly and Theo sighed at the feeling of your touch, it was something he hadn’t felt before. You hadn’t even touched him during the wedding, not even for a dance, let alone at night. You had never consummated your marriage and he had never been so aware of the fact. He leant into your hands, chest rising and falling heavily as his head spun and his body overheated.

You hushed him quietly, running your hand through his brown curls and straddling his lap quickly, sighing as you felt the bulge in his lap against your bare core beneath your night dress. It had been drilled into your head that as a Pureblood woman, you must remain as pure as possible until you were inevitably married off, meaning you’d never been in any position similar to this. You didn’t even know what to do with the boy who began to run his rough hands over your back as he hungrily kissed you. But something about the situation made you giddy, here he was, you could finally have him all to yourself. The gorgeous, brown-haired beauty you’d snagged up.

You ground down into his lap on instinct, something sparking deep inside of you at the sound of his throat emitting a deep noise. Your mouth hung agape, breathing hot air onto the column of his neck once you’d tugged his hair back to reveal the expanse of his skin.

Theo felt like prey under your scorching touch. He wanted nothing more than to feel what you had been touching so dearly before he’d interrupted you. He wondered what it looked like, what it smelled like, what it tasted like. Merlin, how he wanted to taste it. To have what he’d imagined so vividly above him, restricted by nothing but a layer of clothing drove him to insanity. He couldn’t help but rut into you from where he sat below you.

He felt the pressure of your palm on his chest, encouraging him to lay his back against the silk sheets. Theo was down, obeying your every wish as you kissed fiercely, hands claiming every inch of his burning body, fiery like a sinner in church, your fingertips the devil, searing the flesh from his bones and torturing him in ways incapable of any human being responsible of.

His body throbbed, lungs heaving and struggling and his heart hammering against his ribcage. His legs and hands shook like they never had before and Theo did wonder why his body reacted the way it was.

Your lips let a soft sound pass through them again as his hips jolted, the bulge in his trousers pressed at the perfect angle, his cold belt buckle rubbing against your slick clit with a pleasurable shock. The boy was almost thrashing beneath you as he was oh, so eager to hear the noise again. His large hands encouraged you to press down against his need, spurring a deep sigh from him. You didn’t know why you hadn’t done this before.

“Is this what you imagine when you watch me?” You asked, and his body stilled minus the shivering of his hands and legs.

A frown dragged at his brow as you pulled your warm face away from his. “I-What?”

You grinned devilishly. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice how you sneak in here each night? Now answer me, is this what you imagine?”

The air was knocked out of him when your body ground down onto his again, forcing the answer out of him. He wheezed, “Yes!” His head falling back harshly onto the pillow as his eyes scrunched closed as if it hurt to watch you work atop of him. Your hand threaded through his curls, scraping gently at his scalp and tipping his head aside, revealing the moles scattered up his throat. You hungrily attack the expanse of his neck, leaving him purple and pink.

His body fell slack, allowing you to take him in any way that you pleased. With your mouth against his neck and your pussy against his groin, he felt himself grow closer and closer to succumbing to his own pleasure. The white hot light in his eyes grew closer and his mouth tasted the familiar sweetness of lust, all he needed was for you to keep going, then he was sure to release all tension. He needed it more than he’d needed anything before.

Theo tried to call out, but his breath was gone and his head span in circles, so all that could be said was nothing but the most pathetic noises he’d made. He whined as you scratched circles into his hair and bruised his neck with your sweet mouth. He pawed desperately at your body atop of him, searching for any way to force you harder onto his swollen length.

You felt his body shake and his chest rattle with unsure breaths, so hesitantly, you slowed your hips until you halted, appreciating the groan that slipped past Theo’s lips at the lack of friction.

Hushing him gently with a finger over his lips, you smiled sweetly at him. His eyes were bleary and almost unfocused as he looked up at you. A careful hand reach up to smooth over your face in attempts to bring you back down to his lips, but it was to no avail. He breathed out a tiny noise of complaint.

You brushed over his face gently. “I just need you to be quiet, Love, can you do that?”

It felt nearly as if he was in pain without the feeling of your hips rocking onto him, but he obeyed, nodding his head vigorously.

“Good.” You whispered, lifting yourself from him. Theo nearly complained until he realised where you were steadying yourself.

Your knees dug into the mattress on either side of his shoulders, wetness hovering over his shirt and he nearly thought he was about to pass out.

“Allow me?” You ask him. You knew the answer, but you waited quietly for his response.

“Fuck! Yes.” He twitched beneath your legs.

Slowly, almost teasingly, you found the end of your nightgown with your fingers. You toyed with the hem, brushing the soft lace against his clean-shaven chin as his jaw slackened. His mouth was open, heaving in breaths as his eyes watched intently as you lifted the gown up to your belly. Theo was downright salivating at the sight of your pretty little pussy right in front of him. He slid a hand from your backside, all the way up the front of your stomach, taking the nightgown from your hand and pulling it over your head. He hungrily stared over your body, drinking in your beautiful skin and rivets and dips.

His large hands dragged over your sides until they parted, one trailing down to your hip and the other to your full chest. His mouth was ready to feel you, to map out the entirety of your core, ready in his mind to remember when he sinfully touched himself.

Your hands reached to the headboard, pulling yourself up the the pillows, where his head lay, and you lowered yourself onto his eager mouth.

Instantly, his lips engulfed your clit, suckling at it as his hands held your hips firmly over him. As soon as he touched you, you couldn’t help but moan at the feeling. His tongue lapped at you with boiling hot accuracy and you fell victim to the wet sounds of your bodies connecting.

Your head lulled to the side, body weakened at the pleasure he was giving to you. His tongue ran in vigorous circles and you ground against his face in an attempt to make him lick harder.

Your forehead rested on the headboard, knuckles whitening as the sounds were becoming more and more obscene. Theo pressed you down harder onto him and between licking at your sensitive pussy, he sucked harsher and harsher. Your pearly juices were helping you slide over his mouth but he didn’t care that it was coating him more and more as he encouraged you to press onto him. The taste of you was sure to linger on his tongue, and he welcomed the thought eagerly.

His teeth grazed against your skin and you whined, reaching a hand down to his locks, hoping that just your hand would comfort him slightly despite the rough grinding of your pussy on his face. But by the desperate sounds he was making, he didn’t seem to mind at all.

The mixture of your juices and his saliva dripped down his neck and onto the pillow. His chest heaved up and down relentlessly as he awaited your climax. He wanted nothing more than to make you come.

He moaned into your pussy, the vibrations of his deep voice sending a shiver through you. Your entrance was beating and you could your thighs feeling light at his continuous movements. You were close.

Once you felt the familiar sensation run through you, your other hand came down to grip at his hair as you jerked over his jaw, thighs clenching around his head. Theo felt you squeeze his head, causing an odd lightheadedness to come over him, but not just in his head.

His legs went numb and his vision blurred as his cock leaked spurts of hot cum into his underwear. You still hadn’t stopped grinding on his face, feeling the last of your orgasm as he rode his out all the same. He shook gently, sucking harshly on your clit as you squealed at the sensitivity.

You soon came back down, legs shaking, still squeezing your husband’s head. You quickly realised how red his face was becoming and you were sure that you were killing him. Your legs quickly swung back over him and you sat beside him, viewing the result of your orgasm. His face was pink and his mouth hung open, taking in as much air as possible. His face was covered from his neck to his cheeks with slick and his eyes were closed shut. That was when you noticed the dark stain on his slacks.

You hoped to see him in your bed again.

pt.2

[kekeyw]

oasis home | cc build

hi everyone, the long awaited build is ready for download!

this home features 5 bedrooms, 6 bathrooms, a butlers pantry, a large pool and outdoor entertainment area perfect for a getaway and lots of parties!

gallery id: kekeyw

packs used: horse ranch, highschool years, snowy escape, discover university, island living, cats and dogs, city living, get together, get to work, jungle adventures, home chef hustle (most are for live edit objects)

watch youtube video here

download tray files here

cc list below the cut

harrie - brownstone (all), brutalist bathroom, coastal (all), country (all), kwate (all), octave (all), shop the look (all), spoons pt3, stockholm

house of harlix - bafroom, baysic bathroom, baysic, harluxe, jardane, livin' rum, orjanic (all), kichen, tiny traveller

felixandre- chateau pt2, 4, colonial pt2, 3, paris pt3, soho pt1, fayun pt1, pt2, florence (all), grove (all), kyoto (all), shop the look (all)

charlypancakes - chalk, diaper days, the lighthouse, dinna, miscellanea, smol, precious promises

peacemaker - adirondacklove - modernondack, arcadia, bowed living, creta kitchen, futura, hudson bathroom, kitayama dining

pierisim - auntie vera, david (all), domaine du clos (all), mcm (all), oak house (all), teeny weeny, the office, unfold, woodland (all)

the clutter cat - busybee, cozycocina, dandydiary bathroom, dandydiary (all), hellohorses, mellowmini, sunnysundae pt1, 2

greenllamas - the woodwind collection (coffee table)

cowbuild - scandinavian sleepover, blooming garden cafe (hanging wisteria)

bbygyal123 - abstract prints

heybrine - nova bathroom

simplistic - RHrugsII

little dica - delicato, eco kitchen, rise&grind

mrolkan - cool pools

max20 - poolside lounge

my cup of cc - the modernist dining

myshunosun - daria bedroom, freja, lottie bedroom, simmify, lullaby, sona dining

ravasheen - bidet as it may shower tub glass combo, flood saucer light

s-imagination - nota living, japandi tableware

sforzinda - bg curtains

sixamcc - tiny playrooms, boho bathroom

syboulette - bathroom set, candy, caroline, helios, little dino

sundays - amed (runner rug), gaios (throw blanket)

tuds - bble, beam kitchen, brazilian kitchem, caipi, nctr, shkr

emerasims - sanoma collection

awingedllama - apartment therapy inspired stuff v2, blooming plants

mechtasims - kitchen set (ceiling light only)

thank you to all the cc creators: @harrie-cc @felixandresims @charlypancakes @greenllamas @cowbuild @bbygyal123 @heybrine @simplistic-sims4 @littledica @mrolkanyt @maxsus @myshunosun @peacemaker-ic @ravasheencc @pierisim @s-imagination @sixamcc @syboubou @sundays-sims @thecluttercat @tudtuds @awingedllama @mechtasims

[jaythes1mp]

Your secrets are ours, kid

Yandere BatFam x Reader — CH10 -> CH9 -> CH8 -> CH7 -> CH6 -> CH5 -> CH4 -> CH3 -> CH2 -> CH1

8919 words, 46418 characters, 408 sentences, 290 paragraphs, 32.8 pages.

The car comes to a stop outside a fancy restaurant. The building is huge, the exterior lit up with soft, warm lights. A Doorman is standing outside, the entrance framed by a pair of elegant lion statues either side.

Bruce gets out first, holding out his hand to help you out of the car. His face is neutral as you step onto the sidewalk, his hand still gripping yours. He gives a short nod to the Doorman, who immediately opens the door to the restaurant without a word.

The interior of the restaurant is just as impressive as the outside. High ceilings, a grand lobby, and a row of archways leading to the dining areas. Expensive artwork hangs on the walls, the lighting soft but flattering. The interior is opulent, with glittering chandeliers and high arched ceilings. The soft buzz of conversation fills the air, mixing with the sound of silverware clinking against china.

The sound of soft classical music filled the air, mingling with low murmurs of hushed conversations. Almost immediately, as soon as Bruce steps inside, the atmosphere hushes. Every eye turns to look at him, then at you. The way everyone was watching you made you squirm. It was like everyone except you was in on some sort of secret.

Bruce leads you through the restaurant, his hand is still holding yours, his steps confident and assured. You get the sense that the staff know him well as you both pass, various people nod in greeting as Bruce murmurs a few words to them.

Finally, you reach a private booths, secluded in a corner, away from any potential interruptions.

The private booth you’re settled into has a dark, rich oak interior, with a large semi-circular leather booth wrapping around the table in the centre. The table is covered in a crisp white tablecloth, with a variety of fine china and sparkling silverware laid out.

Bruce motions for you to take a seat as he slips into the booth opposite you, his eyes still quietly taking in your features. You mumble a soft thanks in return. Feeling well underdressed.

A waiter appears beside your table, a tablet in his hand, a fake, courteous smile on his face as he addresses you both.

"Good evening, Mr Wayne. What can I get for you tonight?"

Bruce’s voice is measured as he responds, his gaze never leaving you. "Good evening. A bottle of the house red, and two glasses, please."

The waiter nods and disappears, leaving the two of you alone and enveloped in quiet. There's a strained atmosphere in the air, Bruce's eyes watching you intently as you shift awkwardly in the booth.

The atmosphere in the booth is tense, the silence between you and Bruce almost deafening. Trying to break the ice, you attempt a joke, your voice soft as you speak.

"Buffet, huh? You'd think a place this fancy would have a set menu."

Bruce quirks an eyebrow at your joke, a small smile flickering across his face. Despite the situation, he can't help but find it endearing.

He leans back in the leather booth, his broad frame taking up the majority of the space. "Well, I figured you might prefer to pick your own food.”

He pauses for a moment, his eyes still trained on you, "Unless you'd rather I pick for you."

Your chuckle is nervous and soft, a strange mix of anxiety and amusement. You feel a touch out of place, sitting in this posh restaurant, with Bruce Wayne staring across at you.

"No, no," you say quickly, "I can pick my own food. I don't want to trouble you."

The tension in the air is thicker now, the weight of expectations almost palpable. You fidgeted nervously in your seat, your eyes darting around the booth before settling back on Bruce's unwavering gaze.

You take a deep breath, your fingers fiddling anxiously with the hem of your shirt. You feel embarrassed, almost vulnerable in your ignorance. "Um, actually," you admit, "I'm not really sure what's on the menu here."

There's a hint of vulnerability in your voice, a vulnerability you'd usually try to hide in these situations. But in front of Bruce, you can feel yourself slipping, your guard lowering just an inch. He always seemed to leave that effect with you.

His expression softens as he watches you fidget nervously across from him. He notices every little detail, the way your fingers play with the hem of your shirt, the way your gaze darts around the booth before settling back on him.

Bruce's eyes soften as he hears the hint of vulnerability in your voice. It's a sound that's all too familiar to him, yet coming from you, it tugs at his heartstrings nonetheless. He leans forward, his forearms resting against the table, his eyes never leaving yours.

"Don't worry about it," he reassures you, his voice gentle, "You don’t have to pretend to have a taste for fine dining or anything. You can tell me what you want, or I can order something for you."

Bruce's words are a surprising contrast to the confident, almost arrogant persona he usually exudes. Here, in this moment, he seems... gentle, almost fragile in his own way.

He pauses for a moment before continuing, his eyes studying your face for any kind of response. "Although, I have to admit, I'm a little surprised to find you out alone at this time of night."

Your head snaps up suddenly as realisation hits you. "Oh, shit." You curse under your breath, your eyes wide with realisation.

The guilt settles in as you start to consider the possibility that you've interrupted something important. Maybe Bruce had a prior commitment, a business meeting or a social event, and you've stumbled right into the middle of it.

"I'm sorry," you say quickly, your voice filled with genuine remorse. "I didn't mean to intrude. Did I ruin your plans for tonight?"

Bruce watches you carefully as your realization sinks in, your eyes widening in guilt. He notices how your body tenses, how your fingers twist nervously in your lap.

He lets your words hang in the air for a moment before responding. "Ruin my plans? You think you're the one interrupting my night?"

His words are soft, but there's a hint of amusement in his tone. As if the thought of you interrupting his plans is almost absurd to him.

Bruce had patiently waited for nearly forty-five minutes, his evening already planned out. He had booked out the entire restaurant, reserved for just the two of you, and a select few of nobodies, with the kitchen specially rented for your taste in food. He had gone through all of this trouble, just to see you.

And now, sitting across from him, you had believed that your little run-in had ruined all of his well-laid plans.

Bruce sees the guilt and worry in your expression, your shoulders tense and brow furrowed. He can't help but feel a pang of something within his chest at your expression. Of course, you would think you ruined his plans, that you somehow inconvenienced him or got in the way of something important.

As your words hang in the air, he considers telling you the truth. That these were his plans. That spending time with you - watching you grow, listening to you breathe, hearing your voice - meant more to him than anything else that the world could ever offer.

Spending time with you, his precious one, trumped all else. He would willingly cancel any other plans, rearrange any meetings, just for the opportunity to sit across from you like this. Spending time with you trumps anything and everything else.

Tonight, however, he would feign ignorance. He would act as if you were merely a convenient disruption to his otherwise busy schedule. He didn't want you to know the extent of his dedication and devotion to you. Not yet. One day you would come to be aware of the fact. Tonight however, he’ll pretend.

Bruce's face betrays nothing as he watches the guilt and worry etched on your features. He can see it clearly, the worry and guilt in the set of your shoulders, the furrow of your brow. It hurts him to see you this way, to think that somehow, you are the one who ruined his evening plans.

As your words hang in the air, a deep, silent pang resonates within his chest. He can see the tension in your shoulders, the furrow of your brow as you chew on your lip. He notices every little change in your expression, and it makes his heart ache a little bit. He wants to tell you. He wants to reassure you. To tell you that you didn't ruin anything, that you were the plan.

Finally, he lets out a soft sigh, his voice breaking the silence. "You didn't ruin anything," he says, his voice low and reassuring. "I'm not too bothered. It's not like I had something particularly important to do tonight."

He pauses for a moment, watching as your expression changes to reflect the relief that washes over you. He can see the tension leaving your body as his words sink in.

He lets out a soft chuckle, his mouth curving into a small smile. "Besides, I'd rather spend my night out with you than anyone else."

He's treading dangerously close to revealing just how important you are to him, how much you actually mean. But he just can't keep the words from escaping. To not let you know who you really are to him. You were his child. His sweet, broken, child. One that he will soon mend back together gently. Give you everything you deserved yet never got to experience.

Your expression immediately relaxes, relief washing over your face as you take in his words. It's hard to describe the feeling that floods through you. It's a strange mixture of comfort, surprise, and reassurance.

His soft chuckle and smile bring a warmth to your chest that only he can manage to ignite.

As he says he'd rather spend the night with you than anyone else, your breath catches in your throat.

You can feel the danger in his words, his care and devotion carefully concealed behind a thinly veiled facade. There's a raw honesty to his tone that makes you shiver.

The meaning behind his words hitting you like a wave. This man, this powerful, wealthy, influential man, would rather spend his time with you.

You have to bite your lip to conceal the small smile. No one has said they’d rather spend their time with you. Definitely not that woman. It so unexpected and makes you feel all warm and fuzzy.

The way your expression relaxes, the surprise and relief etched on your features, makes his chest tighten a little bit. It's a feeling he's never experienced before. You're reacting in a way that is completely foreign to him. Completely new. Something he's never really gotten to experience.

Bruce notices that you're biting back a smile, and a wave of satisfaction courses through him. He's able to elicit such an unexpected, genuine reaction from you. One he's sure you don't give to just anyone. It's a feeling of pride.

He’ll have to message Tim to send him the cameras footage of that moment later.

The waiter suddenly reappears at the table, a bottle of wine and two glasses in his hands.

Bruce's attention momentarily diverts as he nods his thanks to the waiter, taking the bottle and the pair of glasses.

He gives the waiter a dismissive gesture, indicating that he can take his leave. The waiter murmurs a soft, "Please enjoy your evening, Mr Wayne," before he exits the booth once more.

He pops the cork from the wine with ease, his hands almost like a practiced expert.

He then pours a generous amount into both glasses, the liquid a dark, rich color as it sloshes against the glass.

He hands you one of the glasses, his fingers brushing against yours for just a moment as his eyes meet yours.

"Take a sip," he says, his voice surprisingly gentle.

“Oh. I’m not the biggest wine drin...” the words die on your tongue by the encouraging grin on his lips. You look down to the rich red liquid, swirling the glass for a second before closing your eyes and drowning down a small sip.

It... wasn’t bad.

He watches as you hesitate, the words dying on your tongue, before taking a small sip of the wine. He can see the surprise flicker in your eyes as you taste the liquid. There's a hint of doubt on your face, as if you're expecting it to taste awful.

When you don't wince or make a facial expression, he lets out a soft chuckle. A satisfied sound that's low and gravelly.

"See? I don't have that bad taste in wine, do I?"

You manage to make a small sound of agreement, despite the heat of embarrassment that creeps up your face.

His chuckle, low and gravelly, sends a shiver down your spine. It's a sound that never fails to make you feel both calm and a bit flustered.

You take another, slightly larger sip of wine this time, the liquid warm as it slides down your throat, leaving a pleasant burn in its wake.

He observes as you swallow the wine, his eyes never leaving your face. He can see the slight flush to your cheeks, the way your body reacts to the warm liquid in your system. There's a small spark of triumph in his eyes.

He takes a sip of his own glass, his gaze still fixed on you.

"You're not a frequent drinker, right?" he asks, his tone casual. He already knows the answer.

You shake your head, the heat still present on your cheeks. You take another small sip of the wine, almost in an effort to cool down.

"No, I'm not," you admit, your voice a touch more shy than you wanted it to be, "I don't really drink that much. Bad experiences in the past.”

It was the truth. You didn't drink often, and you certainly didn't want to accidentally embarrass yourself in front of Bruce Wayne of all people. And the men that woman used to bring home left a sour view on alcohol for you.

His eyes soften a bit at your admission, a look of quiet understanding passing over his features. He lets the silence hang for a moment before responding.

"I see," he says. There's an undertone in his voice, almost a hint of anger at the implications of your past.

But he doesn't press the subject any further. He has his suspicions, but he won't ask you to dig up painful memories. At least, not here. Not now. Maybe someday. Maybe someday he'll get you to open up to him fully.

As the quiet stretches between you two, you take another sip of the wine, letting the warmth of the liquid soothe your nerves.

You can feel his eyes watching you, his gaze steady and intense, even as he tries to soften his features. It feels both terrifying and reassuring at the same time. Terrifying, because you feel so seen under his gaze. And reassuring, because you trust that he's being sincere.

The wine is starting to take effect now, your head feeling a bit fuzzy, your inhibitions slightly lowered.

The change in topic is abrupt, but it allows you a moment to compose yourself.

Bruce's voice breaks the silence, his fingers absentmindedly rolling the stem of his wine glass between them as he addresses you. "Have you had enough time to think over what you're craving?" he inquires, his eyes fixed on your face, observing your expression. His gaze soft.

Your thoughts are slightly fuzzy now, the wine having settled in your stomach, making it easier for you to express yourself.

You think for a moment, your mind swirling as you try to think of something to eat. Your first instinct is to tell him it doesn't matter, that you can eat anything. But the look on his face, the way he's studying you, tells you that he won't accept that answer.

So you say the first thing that comes to your mind.

"Nuggets," you murmur.

Humiliation washes over you, the realization of your faux pas sinking in. You cringe inwardly, mentally kicking yourself for even entertaining the idea that there might be something like a children's menu in a high-class establishment like this one. There's practically a "no minors allowed" sign plastered over the door. You can almost hear the staff snickering behind your back.

You want to bang your head against the table, sink into the leather seats and disappear.

He can't help but raise an eyebrow at your response. Nuggets.

He almost wants to laugh, the sound bubbling up in his chest. He manages to hold it back however, sensing the embarrassment that's painted on your face. There's a certain... charm to your honest, albeit slightly tipsy response.

But he finds the suggestion endearing, the image of you with a plate of nuggets amusing. It's such a simple request, a request that so many people would immediately dismiss. But the fact that you had suggested it, had actually thought there was a possibility of this place offering such a thing, somehow makes his chest feel lighter.

Your ears burn with embarrassment, and your eyes fall to the table, avoiding his gaze. You half expect him to roll his eyes, to make some comment about how childish your choice is.

But instead, you notice a flicker of something in his eyes before he speaks. It's a mixture of surprise, and something akin to amusement.

He holds back a laugh, the sound coming out as a low rumble in his chest. When he speaks, there's a hint of a smile on his face. "Nuggets, huh?"

The heat on your face increases at his words, your cheeks flushed with a mixture of the wine and the embarrassment. Your hands fidget nervously in your lap, fingers twisting and untwisting, looking for something to do.

You can't believe you just admitted that. That you actually suggested you order nuggets in a fancy establishment like this one. God, this is so pathetic.

You open your mouth to try to amend your statement, trying to salvage the already ruined evening, but no words come out.

He notices your flustered state, the way your face is flushed and your hands nervously fidgeting in your lap. It's an endearing sight, and he feels a pang in his chest, a mixture of protectiveness and affection. He wants to reassure you, to tell you that there's nothing wrong with wanting nuggets.

He lets out another soft chuckle, his eyes softening even more as he speaks. "Hey, there's nothing wrong with that. I can order them for you."

He’s silently thanking Dick for the list of food places you frequent.

Your face only flushes deeper, the heat practically emanating from your skin now. You hadn't expected him to actually agree to it. You were sure he'd laugh, or tell you to pick something more suitable for your surroundings.

You hazard a glance up at him, meeting his gaze, and are met with a soft, earnest look in his eyes. He's not mocking you. He's not looking down on you.

The realisation sends a wave of relief through you, and the words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them. "You would? Really?"

Jason would have made fun of you for how you sounded.

"Of course," he responds immediately, his tone completely genuine.

He motions to the waiter, who's standing at a discrete distance, waiting to be summoned. It takes only a moment for the waiter to hurry over to the table, his expression schooled into perfect professionalism.

Bruce addresses the waiter bluntly. "Nuggets," he states, his eyes flicking back to you, silently asking you to confirm.

When you avoid the waiters eye contact Bruce lets out a small chuckle, quickly hidden into his palm as if he’d coughed. “And one medium rare steak with mixed vegetables.”

The waiter nods, his expression remaining neutral, though you can see a hint of bemusement in his eyes. To hear Bruce Wayne, billionaire and Gotham City's biggest philanthropist, order nuggets of all things must be an unusual sight for the man.

You can't help but feel relieved that the waiter doesn't comment on the order though. The last thing you need is even more embarrassment.

Your eyes widen a bit at the addition of the steak, and you shoot Bruce a questioning glance.

Bruce catches your questioning glance, his eyes sparkling with an impish mischief. He can see the surprise and confusion in your expression, and he can’t help but smirk a bit.

"Don't worry," he assures you, his tone a touch too innocent, “the steak's for me.”

You deadpan. Seriously? That was his way of assuaging your worries? Steak for him?

As you give him a flat look, he can't help but chuckle at your unimpressed expression.

"What?" he asks, feigning innocence, "I'm hungry."

He leans back into his seat, a small, amused smile playing at the corners of his mouth as he watches you. He can see the mixture of surprise and skepticism on your face, and he finds it almost endearing.

You roll your eyes, a small huff escaping your throat. Typical rich guy, ordering steak.

There's a comfortable silence that falls over the both of you, as you watch the waiter walk away from the table. The alcohol in your system has left you feeling a bit light-headed, and you can’t help but feel a bit more at ease. Like you can fully relax for once.

But a question burns at the back of your mind, and the alcohol makes it a bit easier to voice it.

You break the silence, your voice somewhat slurred as you speak. "Can I ask you something?" you say, your tone casual.

Bruce turns his attention fully back to you, his gaze steady and attentive. He can see the light flush on your cheeks, a result of the alcohol in your system.

"Of course," he responds, leaning forward a little bit, "ask me anything."

You pause for a moment, searching for the right words as you try to articulate your thoughts. Your mind is a muddled mess of alcohol and shyness, which makes it a bit harder than usual for you to speak. But with a bit of willpower, you manage to push the words out of your mouth.

"Why do you do what you do? Why do you want me to do it?" you ask, your voice soft.

His eyebrow raises in a silent, inquiring question, encouraging you to elaborate on your question.

Your voice cuts through the air, your words firm and a touch bewildered. "Everything," you gesture emphatically with your hand, the vague motion encompassing everything you're trying to convey. "The business. Helping people, charities. You could have anyone to do whatever you wanted."

You pause for a moment, your confusion and disbelief clear in your expression as you meet his gaze. "Why would you need to fund my random blog?"

Bruce leans back into his seat, his features taking on a contemplative look. He can sense the confusion and disbelief in your tone, and he can understand why you're asking such a question.

He takes a moment to answer, letting his words settle in your mind. When he speaks again, his voice is steady and sincere.

"It's simple really," he says, his eyes never leaving yours. "I see potential. I see someone who’s willing to try, to make a difference. I suppose I just want to give you the means to do it."

It’s a nice sentiment, but you can tell he’s holding something back.

Your eyes flick to his face, searching his expression for any hint of deception. But there’s nothing but honesty in his gaze. He truly believes in you, in your potential. The thought is both thrilling and terrifying.

You try to process his words, the weight of what he’s saying slowly sinking in.

There’s a question burning on the tip of your tongue, but you’re hesitant to ask it. It feels too personal, too vulnerable. But the alcohol in your system makes you brave, and the question slips out of your mouth before you have a chance to stop it.

"Why me?" Your voice is soft, almost inaudible.

Bruce's gaze softens at your question, his eyes studying your face intently.

"Why not you?" he replies. The words are simple, but they carry a weight to them.

He can see the vulnerability in your expression, the desire to hear a more detailed answer. But there’s a part of him that’s hesitant to fully divulge his reasons.

You lean back against the plush leather of your seat, your thoughts racing.

You're honestly not sure how to respond to that. The depth and sincerity behind his words catch you off guard, and you're momentarily at a loss for what to say.

Bruce watches the emotions play across your face, the mixture of surprise and flattery at his answer. He can tell you’re surprised, maybe even a bit wary in accepting his response. But he can also see a hint of curiosity, a hint of eagerness to know the why behind him.

He takes a subtle breath before he speaks, choosing his words carefully.

"Because I believe you have a voice worth listening to," he says quietly.

You bite your tongue, looking away in thought.

Bruce knew that his words would get to you. That he could charm his way through an explanation rather than admit the truth.

You can feel his words stirring something within you, a mixture of emotions. On one hand, it's flattering, almost dizzying, to know that someone like Bruce Wayne believes in you that much. But on the other hand, there's a nagging skepticism, an inkling that there's more to his reasons than he's letting on.

Your fingers pick at the fabric of your sleeve, a nervous habit you can never quite shake off. You glance up at him, your eyes meeting his.

"Is that really the only reason?" you ask, your voice tinged with uncertainty.

Bruce can see the skepticism in your eyes, the way your fingers pick nervously at the fabric of your clothes. He can tell you're searching for more, that you want to hear a deeper reason for his actions.

His gaze doesn’t waver, his composure not faltering even a bit.

"Why? Do you think there's another reason?" he asks, his tone as casual as ever, betraying nothing of his inner thoughts.

You shake your head, feeling slightly flustered at his response. You had hoped he'd offer up more information, give you a deeper explanation. But he's not budging, not willing to divulge more than he's letting on.

You let out a small, frustrated huff, the sound almost inaudible. You're not sure how to respond to his casual denial, his nonchalance in dismissing your question.

For a brief moment, you almost contemplate asking more direct and personal questions. But the moment passes, and the waiter returns with your food.

The waiter silently places your plate in front of you, the golden-brown nuggets sitting innocently on the white china. There's an awkward moment of silence as Bruce and yourself glance at the plate, before the waiter quietly slips away.

You stare at the heaped plate of food before you, your eyes widening at the sheer amount of food placed before you. The white china plate is practically overflowing, not a single part of it left untouched by the generous portions of food. You swallow hard, your gaze shifting to Bruce, who is calmly cutting into his own steak.

"Why is there so much...?" you can't help but ask, your voice laced with bewilderment. "Is this normal here?"

No, this isn't normal. Bruce has made arrangements to ensure you have a substantial meal, much more than usual. He’d grown worried over the small portions you’ve been making for yourself recently. Each day watching the cameras with an angered expression. So you will be eating every piece of chicken on that plate and you will be enjoying it.

He’s scolded Jason far too many times for letting you do this to yourself, it’s about time he’d taken it into his own hands.

Bruce can see the surprise written all over your face, the way your eyes widen at the sight of the food on your plate. He lets out a small, amused huff, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

"They tend to be... generous with their portions here," he responds, an air of nonchalance in his tone. "Don't waste it."

He cuts another piece of his steak, taking a bite as he watches you. His gaze flicks back and forth between his own plate and yours, making sure you’re actually eating.

You swallow hard, your gaze shifting back to your plate. You're not sure how you're supposed to eat this much food, let alone even finish it. The small bites you're accustomed to taking seem pitiful in comparison to the massive amount of food before you. But you know you can't refuse, not with Bruce watching you, silently waiting for you to take a bite.

You pick up a single nugget, gingerly taking a bite. The crisp texture and flavor of the nugget fill your senses, and for a moment you momentarily forget about your worries.

Bruce watches you carefully, his gaze fixed on your every move. He takes another bite of his steak, his eyes lingering on you for a few moments longer before he speaks.

"Slow down, you'll choke," he advises, his tone jokingly admonishing.

You pause for a moment, the nugget halfway to your mouth. You shoot him a brief glare, momentarily forgetting your manners.

"No, I won't," you argue, your voice slightly muffled as you chew.

Bruce can't help but suppress a small chuckle. Your stubbornness amuses him, your irritation at his comment almost endearing.

"You will," he says, his tone firm, though there’s an amused sparkle in his eyes. "You're eating too fast. Slow down, enjoy the food."

He takes another bite of his steak, his gaze still fixed on you. It’s amusing to see you pout at him, your expression somewhere between annoyance and embarrassment.

You huff in irritation, rolling your eyes at his words. But deep down, you know he's right, his voice echoing your own internal thoughts.

You take a moment to collect yourself, forcing yourself to slow down as you take another bite. The food is good, the flavors rich and satisfying. But you can't help but grumble under your breath.

Your words are delivered with a mix of petulance and half-hearted jest. "You're not my parent, you know," you mutter, the words leaving your mouth with a hint of teasing.

It's clear you're unaware of the way his knuckles tighten around the handle of the knife until they're almost white, nor do you notice the way his jaw clenches ever so slightly at your words. You're entirely oblivious to the possessive, dark fatherly look that flashes in his eyes.

Bruce has to bite his tongue to refrain from correcting you. He was your dad. You just didn't know it yet.

Patience, he has to remind himself.

Bruce is thankful for the years of his rigid self-discipline, years of controlling his thoughts, feelings, and emotions. He’s thankful for the tight control he has over his mind, the strict control over his senses. Because in that moment, the urge to correct you, to claim you as his child is immense. It’s difficult for him to keep his words at bay.

He clears his throat, the sound more of a forced noise than anything. His voice is slightly strained as he responds to your words. Though he forces the calm, steady tone of his words to remain.

"Just eat your food.”

You're too preoccupied with the taste of the food in your mouth to notice his brief change in tone. His words break you out of your thoughts, your attention shifting to him.

You glance back down at the plate in front of you, the pile of food still standing despite your efforts to eat it.

"I’m trying," you say, a slight hint of annoyance in your tone. "But you're giving me a lot of food here."

Bruce remains silent, his gaze fixated on your plate, calculating the amount of food left.

He takes a moment to think, silently observing you. He scans the remaining food on your plate, mentally calculating how many more bites you’d have to take. He’s not satisfied in the slightest, not until he can see your plate completely empty. He needs to be sure you're going to finish all of it.

“You can do it,” he says, his words a simple, casual statement.

You groan. “dude.”

You roll your eyes at his words, your annoyance with the situation growing. The amount of food still left in front of you seems almost intimidating, especially with Bruce silently watching you.

You’re not used to eating so much, and the thought of finishing all of it makes you slightly nauseous.

“I feel like I’m being fattened up for something,” you grumble under your breath, your tone half-serious, half-joking.

Bruce leans back in his seat, a silent chuckle escaping his lips at your comment. The sound is subtle, only barely heard in the quiet restaurant.

The corners of his mouth twitch, a hint of a smirk forming.

“You ate more than this the last time we were out together, kid.” He says in return, his voice teasing.

His words are meant in playful jest, but there’s a hint of possessiveness in his tone, a hint of protectiveness, the protective fatherly instinct lingering within him.

Your eyes widen in surprise at his words, your expression quickly morphing into annoyance.

"Oh, shut up," you retort, a hint of petulance in your tone. You continue to eat, trying to ignore the smug smile on his face.

You chew on a nugget for a few moments, contemplating his words. "...You remember that?”

Bruce’s smirk widens, watching as your expression morphs to an obvious mixture of surprise, annoyance, and mild humiliation. His tone is casual, yet the amusement is obvious.

“Of course I do,” he responds simply. “I pay attention to things.”

For a normal person, what you ate over two weeks ago would be forgettable, insignificant. But Bruce Wayne isn’t a normal person, not by a long shot. He’s observant, his mind committing details to memory almost second nature to him. Anything that relates to you he makes sure to keep note of. All of his kids interest, really.

You huff in annoyance at his response.

“Oh, right. You’re a billionaire, how could I forget,” you snark back, rolling your eyes at the casual way he responded.

The fact that he’d remembered such a small, insignificant detail of your night together caught you off guard. And for a brief moment, it makes you feel… special, the idea that you’re important enough for him to remember things about you.

“What else do you remember from that night?” you ask, your curiosity getting the better of you.

Bruce takes a moment to respond, his gaze locked on yours. There’s an almost imperceptible smirk on his face, a hint of pride.

He remembers the entire night, every little detail. Every word that slipped from your lips, every small gesture you made. He remembers it all, committing each memory to the back of his mind. And even if you could somehow forget the colour of your coat, he’s always got the footage from that night to look over time and time again.

But he won’t tell you that, not yet. Instead, he responds with a casual yet vague answer.

“I remember a lot.”

You hum, “mysterious.”

You raise an eyebrow at his response, the vague yet casual tone of his voice. It’s an answer that gives nothing away, yet at the same time makes it clear that he remembers more than he’s letting on.

The thought of all the possible things he could remember makes something churn in your stomach. Part of you wants to pry, to ask more.

But you know better. There’s a reason Bruce Wayne is Gotham City’s most popular billionaire. The man’s secretive, that much is clear.

Your curious expression does not escape Bruce’s notice. He can see the way you’re contemplating your next question, your mind working a mile a minute.

His gaze flickers over your expression, taking in every detail. He knows you’re tempted to ask more, to pry and probe him for more information. He can read you almost as easily as he reads a book.

But he remains calm and collected, his smile never wavering.

“Finishing your food, yet?” he asks in return, his tone shifting the topic away from his memory.

Your eyes widen in surprise, darting down to the plate in front of you. Two lonely nuggets stare back at you, their former coating of sauce now reduced to a glistening sheen.

The sight of the near-empty plate triggers a wave of realization. You had been so caught up in conversation that you hadn't even realized how quickly the food on your plate had vanished, the satisfying sensation of your grumbling stomach barely even registering in your awareness.

Bruce can see the moment realization washes over you. The way your eyes widen, the surprised expression that crosses your features.

He can tell you hadn’t even noticed how quickly you’d finished your food, too caught up in conversation to pay attention to the almost empty plate.

He lets out a small, pleased hum, his eyes flickering across your face for a moment longer before he speaks.

“See, that wasn’t so hard,” he teases quietly.

You flush, your cheeks burning slightly from embarrassment. It’s embarrassing to think that you’d actually finished all the food on your plate, without even realizing it.

You open your mouth to reply, but Bruce continues.

“One more bite,” he says, his tone almost fatherly, yet firm. His gaze flicks down to the two last nuggets on your plate.

You look down at the food, your stomach feeling full. You don’t think you can eat anymore without feeling nauseous. But the expectant look on Bruce’s face makes it clear this is not a request.

The tone of his voice, the fatherly insistence of his words, leaves no room for argument. The way his eyes flicker expectantly to the two remaining nuggets on your plate tells you that it’s not a request. It’s a demand.

You grimace slightly. The thought of forcing down one more bite of food makes your full stomach churn, the feeling of nausea rising in your gut.

“I feel like I’m gonna be sick,” you protest, your voice almost a petulant whine.

“No, you won’t,” Bruce responds simply. He can see the nausea in your face, the look of discomfort in your eyes. But he’s not backing down from this, not now.

His jaw is set, his gaze unwavering as he locks eyes with you, silently making it clear he won’t accept any arguing.

He leans forward just slightly, his gaze intensifying the slightest bit. “Now eat, Sunshine.”

You want to simultaneously kick his face in and curl up into a small ball of fuzz.

You don’t think that you’ve ever been talked to this way. Not even by the woman who raised you. It’s new.

There’s an authority in his tone, a hint of possessiveness in his gaze. He’s telling you what to do, demanding you finish the food on your plate, expecting you to listen to his every word.

It’s a tone that makes you want to both melt into a puddle and stand your ground and refuse. It’s a tone that makes your gut flip, your heart flutter, the butterflies in your stomach suddenly flying around in an erratic mess. Not in any sexual way, but in a way that makes you long.

“...Sunshine?” you murmur, looking up at him with an arched eyebrow.

A hint of a smile tugs at the corners of Bruce’s lips when he notices your reaction to his tone, the arch of your eyebrow at his nickname. He knows it caught your attention, the way your eyes widened slightly, the way your voice came out as a soft murmur.

“Yeah,” he repeats in a matter-of-fact tone, the hint of a smirk still on his face. “Sunshine.”

His gaze flickered over your expression, taking in every little detail. If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was almost preening.

The tone of his voice, the way he said the single word, sends a shiver down your spine. It sounds almost sweet, almost affectionate. The way he glances over you, the way his gaze seems to linger over you, it’s as if he’s claiming you as his.

“That’s a weird nickname..” you say, your voice almost timid. You can’t keep the hint of a flush from your cheeks.

“Why Sunshine?”

His smirk widening at your quiet words. He can see the way your gaze flickers away, avoiding his, the way the flush on your cheeks deepens.

“Why not?” he counters, his tone almost challenging. He takes a moment, his eyes flickering up and down your face.

“You’re a little ray of sunshine, kid,” he says eventually, his voice quieter but almost affectionate.

The rest of the night blurs together in a rapid succession of events that seem to move almost too fast for your brain to register. In a flash, you find yourself stepping out of the luxurious limousine, the streetlights casting a soft glow on the sidewalk.

Bruce’s larger hand still grips your shoulder, his grip both supportive and affectionate. His voice is warm as he bids you farewell, his words echoing in your ears.

"Good night," he says, his voice gentle yet firm. "I’ll see you soon."

Had you given the man your address...?

You chalk it up to the wine. Bringing your hand up to wave the black vehicle goodbye before adventuring up the worn down familiar steps that you called home.

As you wave farewell to the retreating car, you find yourself pondering for a moment whether or not you had actually given Bruce the address to your apartment. Perhaps the wine had been to blame.

With a slight shake of your head, you turn away from the departing limousine and begin your familiar ascent up the worn-down steps of the building you called home. The night air is cool and crisp, the glow of the streetlights casting elongated shadows on the concrete paths and cracked walls.

You linger outside the door of your apartment building, your keys clutched in your hand. For a few moments, you simply stand there, the cool night air caressing your skin as you press your forehead against the solid wooden frame.

You can't help but let out a soft sigh, the thought of facing Jason on the other side of that door not very appealing. You're not quite ready to deal with him just yet.

With a deep breath, you finally push yourself away from the door, the cool night air still caressing your face as you turn your attention back to the lock. You insert the key into the keyhole and twist it, the familiar click of the lock sliding open filling the air around you. As you push open the door, you brace yourself for what awaits inside.

As you step into the apartment, you're met with a peculiar sight. The living room is dark, save for a few dim shafts of light filtering in from outside and casting flickering shadows across the furniture. There's a strange stillness to the air, an aura of tension that you can feel even before registering the shape sitting nonchalantly on the couch, illuminated by the silvery moonlight.

Jason's tall form is casually sprawled across the piece of furniture, his body tense and his gaze focused on you with an unwavering intensity.

The moment you step into the living room, your eyes immediately land on Jason's form lounging on the couch. His tall frame is casually sprawled across the furniture, each muscle taut with an obvious tension. His eyes, sharp and dark, fix on you with a penetrative intensity that makes your skin tingle.

He doesn't move or speak, instead choosing to regard you with a quiet, almost unsettling stillness. The silence stretches on, the only sound the soft hush of the night outside and the faint ticking of the clock.

Your lips are caught between your teeth as you approach, your movements tentative and slow. Your eyes remain fixed on his face, his tense expression unwavering as you come closer.

Finally, you stop a few feet away, clutching a small bag in your hands tightly. Without a word, you hold it out in front of him, the rustle of the paper bag breaking the heavy silence.

Jason's eyes flicker to the bag extended towards him, tracking your movements with a guarded wariness. He makes no move to take it, instead regarding you with a suspicious eye.

A beat of tense silence passes before he finally responds, his voice low and gruff. "What's that?"

“An apology for storming out.”

Your response is quiet and deliberate, your voice carrying a hint of remorse. Jason regards you for a moment, his eyes fixated on your face. Finally, he shifts slightly, leaning forward to accept the bag from your hand.

His fingers brush against yours, the touch brief yet sparking a small jolt of electricity up your arm. "An apology, huh?" he responds, his voice a touch gruff but edged with a trace of reluctant understanding.

"It's your favourite," you motion, the words leaving your mouth in a soft whisper.

A small moment of silence passes before Jason responds again, his voice a bit gentler this time. "You didn’t have to," he replies, an unexpected but noticeable shift in his tone.

He regards you for a moment longer, a touch of surprise in his expression, before lifting the bag and peeking inside. At the sight of the familiar, beloved treats, a flicker of warmth sparks across his face. He looks up, meeting your gaze.

"You remembered," he mutters, his voice still gruff but laced with a hint of begrudging gratitude.

You nod your response, your movements weary as you finally collapse onto the couch beside Jason. Your body sinks into the soft cushions, the weariness of the day seeping into your bones.

"Made a stop on my way home," you explain, your voice quiet yet clear in the softly lit living room.

Jason grunts, acknowledging your explanation with a barely perceptible nod. He's still carefully avoiding your gaze, his focus fixed on the bag of treats. He’s not really angry. He never could be. Not with you.

After a moment of silence, he finally speaks, his voice a mix of gruffness and reluctant warmth. “Thanks,” he mumbles, the words a testament to his gratefulness despite his usual tough demeanor.

“Anytime man.”

Jason glances up at your response, his eyes flickering to your face. A brief moment of quiet passes, the sound of the night creatures outside the only background to the silent exchange between you two.

Eventually, he replies, a hint of gruff warmth lacing his words. “Damn right, anytime.”

Jason’s eyes flick up as you let out a small, amused snicker at his words. A small, sardonic grin pulls at his mouth, his shoulders relaxing just a bit.

"You think that's funny?" he mutters, his voice edged with amusement.

He teases, his voice taking on a more playful edge. "Don't see what's so funny about me saying you can bring home my favourite treats anytime you want."

Your snicker only increases in volume in response to his faux-offended tone, a smile slowly breaking out on your face. Jason's stoic expression cracks just a little at the sight, a reluctant smile pulling at his own mouth. He scoops his arm around your waist and pulls you close.

His large arm hooks easily around your waist, giving a gentle tug that pulls you closer to him. You end up pressed against his side, the warmth of his body seeping into your own. Despite the initial surprise at the sudden movement, you don't resist.

Jason keeps his grip on your waist firm, holding you against him as he shifts a bit to make room for you on the couch. His body is warm and solid beside you, a comforting presence in the dimness of the living room.

He leans back against the couch, his arm still around you as his gaze once again drifts down to the bag of treats in his lap.

"You always know what’ll get me to forgive you, don’t you?" he mutters, his voice low, yet holding a hint of affection.

His fingers idly play with the edges of the bag, the slight rustle of the paper filling the quiet space between you.

“Yep.” You pop the p.

No use of y/n, no descriptive features for the reader mentioned, no gender.

Did I drone on about nuggets? Whattttt nooooo… you must have read that wrong.

Tag list: @zero-s-tea @chemicalsandghosts @yandere-enthusiast @starsdotalk @small-mushroom-fae @wpdarlingpan @dhanyasri @tojislvrr @phoenixgurl030 @mel-star636 @lilyalone @lavender-moony @nickey-diano @sociallyakwardpanda @obsessedwithromance @thickerthanthieves @nckcn @xxrougefangxx

For the Americans, your weird only being able to drink when you’re 21 law doesn’t exist anymore, you’ve joined the rest of the world at 18.

[lunarw0rks]

I feel like Graves would end up with a really soft and innocent s/o just because he loves being the 'strong man' lol and even though they're maybe even smaller than him all sweet and shy- he is absolutely whipped for them! Especially if they can cook and be a lil housemaker for him??

♡♡♡ warning(s): nsfw + sfw, fem!reader

─── graves and his homemaker s/o ❤︎₊ ⊹

there's no one on earth more loved and adored by him, despite the stigma surrounding the dynamic you two have. he doesn't pay any mind to their judgements. in his heart, he knows how tender he is with you behind closed doors. and in yours, he hopes.

you never pictured it to end up this way. before, you were like any adult. busting your ass at work, ending each week exhausted and struggling to buy yourself groceries.

and then you met him. chivalrous and borderline self-obsessed. but you weren't being patronized when he acted with traditional courtesy. you weren't a body to be claimed or a trophy to hang on his arm.

you were merely his. all his within months of meeting, and that meant you were to be taken care of. spoiled rotten, some would say. what better way to have it? compared to your old life of hardship, it was paradise.

everything paid for, without a second of hesitation. what little savings you had idle in your bank account, untouched when he's around.

he can and will take care of you — in every way. it's in graves' nature to provide.

no different than he does for his men, only you've been appointed the privilege of seeing the gentler side of him, when the uniform of a commander is rid of his scarred body.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈nsfw under the cut!

˖⁺｡˚⋆˙˖⁺₊˚⊹♡ it's only fair, to be taken care of in every way possible. you've been so good to him, so good for him, right? there's no quicker way to his heart, than someone who enjoys being smothered with his praise.

what better sight, than opening the door and seeing you concerning with such trivial things. he spent the day making life or death decisions, and you're there; concerned with which centerpiece looks best on the dining table. some men would see it as a means for competition, or a degrade — but graves finds it irresistible.

the house smells divine; your scented candles, the fragrance you spritz, and whatever you have baking in the oven. he can practically feel the tension leave his shoulders, how his senses come alive when greeted with the comfort of your shared home.

you've dressed nice for him again, though he always gave no pressure for you to do so. clothes to match the summer heat, hair styled and pinned back to stay out of the way.

you, in your domestic, relaxed state — the one thing better than all the trivial pleasures in life, better than the house you were both standing in.

though you usual greet him, you're immersed in the centerpiece debate. you hold the two pieces up to him, "do you think I should go with the silver candle candleholders? or how about the brass ones?" it's a genuine question, but it's only met with an amused scoff — a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

graves sets aside his luggage, stepping closer to you and your very concentrated gaze. "why do you ask me, sweetheart? it's up to you. and if you don't like 'em, we'll go buy more." he examines the decor in your hands briefly, but his eyes end up back on you permanently.

"just want it to look nice in here," you sigh at his dismissal, turning away to resume contemplation. "we have that supper planned in a few weeks, don't we?" you add, setting the options back on the oak table.

as if the place could be more meticulously decorated. there was barely a trace of him in this house, except for his nightstand and office. you had free reign to adjust the home to your taste, considering you were the one who spent most of your time there.

a gentle chuckle rang from him, followed by a click of his tongue, "don't think it can get much nicer in here, darlin'. i reckon you've left a touch on just about every inch of place, haven't you?" you shoot a flustered look, even though his words are truthful.

it was a silly dilemma, considering not a soul would be criticizing your centerpiece decision. "oh, c'mon, don't do that face... my guys will eat anything you slide in front of them, you know that? could host the damn supper in the closet and you'd charm the daylights out of 'em." he says, soothing every worry down to a simmer rather than a hard boil.

he's definitely good at shutting you up. only, in the most embellished of ways. without fail, a charmed smile spread on your face — as did a surge of warmth. graves cupped one of your cheeks, running his thumb along it, "see? much better than a scowl. now, tell me, what's cooking?"

"you know the rules. i can't tell you until the timer beeps. besides, it's supposed to be a surprise." you replied, making a meek escape from his gentle grasp. displayed on the small screen; eight minutes remained.

with a hasty yank and then a stumble on your end, your back was against his chest. "i don't like surprises, do i?" you felt the sensation of his teeth nibbling along the side of your neck, all in the midst of his patterned kisses. when he was this close, he got deep whiffs of your intoxicating perfume, the freshly shampooed hair on your head, the detergent you insisted he buy. heart-stopping — like it was every time he pulled you close.

it was true, he hated them. the tickle of his lips made you squirm — a futile attempt to slip away and leave him hanging. that never worked, and you knew it. "we're down to five, time's a-wastin'."

somehow, someway, neither of you made it up the stairs this time. all he did to prepare was send the stacks of mail flying from the island; the one you found yourself sitting on. graves stood between your legs, his caressing fingers your means of preparation. though, by the times your legs were exposed to the breeze — you and your body were eager enough for him.

the minutes decreased no matter how hurriedly he moved, and he always stuck to his rules. if there was a time limit, he'd get it done before zero.

"been thinking about you all day," he breathes. "by the looks of it, you have too, sweetheart." his tip prodded at your slick entrance, while the other hand hooked around your thigh to keep it hiked up with ease. wasn't the first time he ravished you on the kitchen counters, it certainly wouldn't be the last. slowly at first, then all at once — he thrusted inside of you.

once he got situated, there was no stopping him. every rock of his hips was purposeful and deep, yet his kisses remained delicate and tender. your moans muffled against his mouth, his lips pinkish and coated with saliva as it roamed your warmed face.

soon, your back was flat against the island with your legs still hanging off and in his grip. with every methodical movement, your walls tightened around his length and edged him closer to a finish. by now, you were certain your appearance was faulty; either ruined by sweat or the constant hands graves had on you.

despite being close within the first few minutes, he had gotten carried away ogling you. your gasps, your squinted eyes, the teeth indents on your bottom lip from how harshly you sunk into it. however, now there wasn't any restraint left in him. the tight coil in his abdomen begged for release, no matter how much stamina that remained in his body.

as the clock struck zero, he bottomed out with the force of his whole body — spilling every last drop inside of you. the oven beeped three times, as if on cue.

a string of curses against your lips as he leaned down to kiss you, sneaking in a few sloppy thrusts afterward. "i'll make it up to you later, make it worth your while." he pecked along your jaw, adjusting the strap of your top that had slid down your arm.

"it was worth my while." you replied between catching your breath, voice still quivering slightly.

he chuckled, fingers still playing with the fabric, "so, what's cooking? have i earned my right to know?" he was right; you always told him once the meal was ready, and that's what it was right now. the aroma hit your nostrils, as intoxicating as he found yours.

your eyes flicked over to the digital screen, still flashing and urging you to remove the pan, then it beeped for a second round as a reminder. "just a roast your mom taught me. thought you would've recognized the smell by now." you uttered, tracing your fingers along his blond stubble.

"hm, something must've distracted me, darlin'," he ran a tongue along his bottom lip, now gazing with admiration rather than hunger.

then, his brow raised with interest. both in humor and intense dread he added, "you've been calling my mother?"

[choicefurnituresuperstore]

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[choice-furniture-superstore]

DESIGNING WITH OAK: UNLEASHING THE BEAUTY AND VERSATILITY OF YOUR DINING SET

When it comes to furnishing your dining space, an oak dining set offers a timeless and versatile option that can complement a range of interior design styles. The natural beauty and durability of oak make it a popular choice for creating a warm and inviting atmosphere. Whether your aesthetic leans towards rustic, modern, or traditional, let's explore some inspiring ideas for styling your oak dining set and infusing your space with charm and character.

Rustic Elegance: Embrace the inherent charm of oak by pairing your dining set with earthy elements. Opt for a farmhouse-style table with a distressed finish and combine it with cross-back oak chairs. Complete the look with cozy textiles like linen or burlap table runners and rustic-inspired centerpieces, such as wildflowers or candles in mason jars. This combination exudes a welcoming and relaxed ambiance.

Contemporary Chic: Create a sleek and modern look by selecting a clean-lined oak dining table with a smooth, polished finish. Pair it with upholstered oak chairs in neutral tones, and add a touch of drama with bold, statement lighting fixtures above the table. Keep the overall color palette minimal, allowing the natural beauty of the oak to take center stage.

Timeless Tradition: For a classic and elegant dining space, consider a pedestal oak table with ornate detailing. Pair it with high-back oak chairs featuring carved accents and upholstered seats in rich fabrics like velvet or brocade. Complete the traditional look with a crystal chandelier and fine China displayed in a beautiful oak hutch or sideboard.

Modern Rustic: Blend the best of both worlds by combining contemporary elements with rustic charm. Choose an oak dining table with a live-edge or reclaimed wood finish, showcasing the natural imperfections and unique grain patterns. Mix and match oak chairs with different styles, such as metal or leather accents, to add an eclectic touch. Incorporate organic elements like woven placemats, potted plants, or natural fibers to create a harmonious balance between modernity and rusticity.

Scandinavian Simplicity: Embrace the Scandinavian design ethos by opting for a minimalist oak dining set. Choose a sleek and streamlined table with tapered legs and combine it with oak chairs featuring clean lines and light upholstery. Keep the color palette light and airy, with neutral tones and pops of pastel shades. Add a touch of hygge by incorporating soft textures like faux fur or knitted throws.

In conclusion, designing with oak allows you to unleash the beauty and versatility of your dining set. Whether you prefer a rustic, modern, traditional, or eclectic aesthetic, oak seamlessly blends with various styles, enhancing the overall ambiance of your space. Embrace the unique characteristics of the oak, from its natural grain patterns to its enduring strength, and let it inspire you to create a dining area that reflects your style and creates a warm and inviting atmosphere for memorable gatherings.

[kyloherrera]

 ۫ 𑄼ల۫  ۪ FEB 8 — PROPOSE

featuring: dot, , abel, rayne, odler, mash, lance. finn, abyss x gn! reader

note: hope you like, this is very fluffy, and a big comfort for me <3

summary: how would mashle boys propose to their s/o

genre: fluff || event || patreon

✦ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐇

-Mash has decided that its time to take the next step in his relantionship with.

-While grand gestures and elaborate plans aren't mash style, but he wants to make this moment special nonetheless.

-One day, Mash takes you on a walk to their favorite spot in the forest, a serene clearing surrounded by towering trees

-As you stroll hand in hand, Mash's heart pounds with anticipation, but he tries to keep his composure.

-Finally reaching the clearing, Mash pauses and turns to you , his eyes filled with unwavering love and determination.

- He takes a deep breath and begins to speak from the heart, expressing his gratitude for their unwavering support and the happiness you've brought into his life.

-Then in his characteristic straightforward manner, Mash kneels down before you and reaches into his pocket,

-He pulls out a small, crudely crafted ring made from twigs and vines. It's not flashy or extravagant, but it's a symbol of his sincerity and devotion.

-With a voiced emotion reflected in his voice, Mash asks you to spend the rest of their life with him, promising to always stand by your side and protect you with all his strength.

✦𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄

-Lance would orchestrate an extravagant evening at the most luxurious venue in town.

-He would spare no expense in creating an ambiance of opulence, with twinkling lights, fine dining, and a live band playing romantic melodies in the background.

-Lance would take your hand and begin to express his feelings, weaving words of love and admiration with his signature charm and wit.

-Then, in a moment of theatrical flair, Lance snaps his fingers, and fireworks burst into the sky outside, illuminating the night with a dazzling display of colors. The crowd gasps in awe, and you look on in astonishment.

-With all eyes on you, Lance drops to one knee, producing a velvet box from his pocket. Inside gleams a stunning diamond ring, reflecting the brilliance of the fireworks above.

-In a voice filled with sincerity, Lance pours his heart out, expressing his unwavering devotion and his desire to spend eternity with his beloved. He asks the all-important question, his eyes shimmering with anticipation.

✦𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐍

-Finn most likely would propose in a place that holds special significance for both him and you.

-A serene meadow where they often go to unwind and connect with nature. He carefully chooses the time, waiting for the perfect sunset to cast a warm glow over the landscape.

-A vast expanse of wildflowers swaying gently in the breeze, with the colors of the setting sun painting the sky in hues of gold and pink. show in front of your eyes.

-With a gentle smile, Finn takes your hand and leads you to a spot in the meadow's center, where a picnic blanket is spread out under a towering oak tree

- He invites you to sit beside him, taking a moment to savor the tranquility of the moment.

-As you watch he sun dip below the horizon, Finn begins to speak from the heart, expressing his love and gratitude for you.

-Then, reaching into his pocket, Finn pulls out a small, intricately carved wooden box. Opening it, he reveals a simple yet elegant ring, crafted from a rare wood found only in the deepest parts of the forest.

-With trembling hands, Finn takes your hand and gazes into their eyes, his voice steady but filled with emotion. He asks you to be his partner for life, promising to cherish and support them through every challenge and triumph.

✦𝐃𝐎𝐓

-Dot decides to propose in a place that holds sentimental value for both them and you.

A quaint café where they shared their first date. He chooses a time when the café is relatively quiet, allowing for an intimate and personal moment.

-He leads you to a secluded corner of the café, where a table is adorned with flickering candles and a bouquet of your favorite flowers. Soft music plays in the background, adding to the romantic atmosphere.

-With a nervous but determined smile, Dot takes your hand and begins to speak from the heart. They express their love and admiration, recounting the moments you've shared together and the ways in which you had enriched their life.

-Then, reaching into their bag, Dot retrieves a small, beautifully wrapped gift box. Inside lies a carefully crafted scrapbook filled with cherished memories—photographs, ticket stubs, and handwritten notes documenting your journey as a couple.

-As you flipped through the pages of the scrapbook, tears of joy well up in your eyes. Each memory serves as a testament to the depth of your love and the bond you share.

-With trembling hands, Dot takes your hand and gazes into their eyes. They pour their heart out, expressing their deepest desires and their unwavering commitment to your happiness.

-Finally, with a nervous laugh, Dot presents a velvet box containing a delicate ring—a symbol of their love and devotion. They ask you to spend the rest of their life with them, promising to stand by their side through thick and thin.

✦𝐀𝐁𝐘𝐒𝐒

-Abyss chooses a secluded and mystical forest shrouded in mist and shadow. They choose a moonlit night when the stars are bright, casting an ethereal glow over the landscape.

-When you reach a clearing deep within the forest—a place untouched by time, where magic seems to linger in the air. In the center of the clearing stands a stone altar, illuminated by flickering torches and adorned with mystical runes. Abyss takes your hand and leads them to the altar.

-Their eyes gleam with determination as they begin to speak in a voice that resonates with power and authority.

-Abyss expresses their love and admiration for you, weaving words of mystery and intrigue with a hint of vulnerability. They recount the moments you 've shared together, the challenges you've faced, and the bond that has grown between you.

-Then, reaching into the folds of their cloak, Abyss Razor retrieves a small, intricately carved box—an artifact of ancient origin. With reverence, they open the box to reveal a ring unlike any other—a band of blackened metal adorned with a single glowing gemstone, said to hold the power of the abyss itself.

-With a solemn expression, Abyss Razor looks into your eyes and speaks from the depths of their soul. They ask you to join them on a journey of darkness and light, of mystery and adventure, promising to stand by your side through every trial and tribulation.

✦𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄

-Like Dot, Rayne decides to propose in a place that holds sentimental value for both them and you.

-a secluded beach where you often go to find solace and tranquility. They choose a time when the sun is setting, casting a warm glow over the sand and sea.

-As you arrive at the beach, you are greeted by the soothing sound of the waves crashing against the shore, the salty breeze, and the soft hues of the setting sun painting the sky in shades of pink and gold.

-With a gentle smile, Rayne takes your hand and leads you to a quiet spot near the water's edge.You sit together, watching the sun dip below the horizon, enveloped in the serenity of the moment.

-As the last rays of sunlight fade away, Rayne begins to speak from the heart, expressing their love and gratitude for you. They recount the moments you've shared together—the laughter, the tears, and the deep connection that binds you.

-Then, reaching into their pocket, Rayne retrieves a small, intricately crafted shell—a token of their affection. He, offers you the shell, explaining its significance as a symbol of their love and devotion.

✦𝐎𝐃𝐋𝐄𝐑

-He selected a a serene botanical garden filled with exotic plants and flowers. He choose a time when the garden is in full bloom, bursting with vibrant colors and intoxicating fragrances.

-With a warm smile, Odler takes your hand and leads them along the winding pathways, pausing to admire the beauty of each flower and plant you encounter. You share stories and laughter, lost in the magic of the garden.

-Finally,you both reach a secluded spot in the heart of the garden—a hidden alcove adorned with blooming roses and twinkling fairy lights.

-With a tender expression, Odler begins to speak from the heart, expressing their love and admiration for you. They recount the moments you've shared together—your conversations, your adventures, and the deep connection that binds it.

-Then, reaching into their pocket, Odler retrieves a small, leather-bound book—a collection of poems and love letters they've written for you. With trembling hands, they read aloud a passage that captures the essence of their love and devotion.

-In a voice filled with sincerity, Odler looks into your eyes and speaks the words they've been longing to say. They ask you to spend the rest of your life with them, promising to cherish and support them through every moment, both joyful and challenging.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

@stvrlightt123 @Mysticalpersonpoetry @mailkyeom03

[rheya28]

Red Mirage Nightclub ♥ The Sims 4: Speed Build // CC

Welcome to Mirage, the hottest nightclub in Oasis Springs! As you step inside, you're greeted by a sultry sea of crimson lights that pulse to the rhythm of the music. Red Mirage features a dance floor that is alive with energy and seductive scarlet glow as well as plush lounge areas that offer a retreat for intimate conversations.

➽ Speed Build Video

➽ Rheya's Notes:

●Ok so I meant to do a different theme for this lot but ended up creating a club similar to club tropics since I thought it would fit oasis spring vibes lol I guess you can call this club tropics 2.0. ●This club includes karaoke rooms so you can set this to a karaoke bar if you'd like

➽ Important Notes:

●Please make sure to turn bb.moveobjects on! ● Please DO NOT reupload or claim as your own. ● Feel free to tag me if you are using it, I love seeing my build in other peoples save file ● Feel free to edit/tweak my builds, but please make sure to credit me as the original creator! ● Thank you to all CC Creators ● Please let me know if there's any problem with the build

➽ Lot Details

Lot Name: Red Mirage Nightclub Lot type: Nightclub Lot size: 30 x 20 Location: Oasis Spring

➽ MODS

● Tool Mod by Twisted Mexi

➽ CC List

Note: I reuse a lot of the same cc in all my builds, specifically cc's from felixandre, HeyHarrie, Tuds, and Pierisim so if you're interested in downloading past, present, future build from me i suggest getting all their cc sets to make downloading a little easier! other creators include Sooky, Charlypancakes, Sixam, Thecluttercat, Myshunosun, awingedllama, Peacemaker, kiwisim4. This will also ensure that the lots are complete and are not missing any items upon downloading ! House of Harlix ● Bafroom ● Harluxe CharlyPancakes ● Slouch Felixandre ● Chateau pt [2] ● Colonial pt [3] ● Grove pt [4] ● Kyoto pt [2] ● Paris pt [3] ● Florence pt [4] ● Soho TheClutterCat ● Baby Boo (Donut Table) ● Sunny Sundae Harrie ● Brutalist ● Kleen pt [2][3] ● Kwatei pt [1][2] ● Octave pt [2] ● Shop the look pt [1][2] ● Jardane ● Livin Rum ● Orjanic Mycupofcc ● The Modernist Helen May ● Modern Set Joyceisfox ● Forever Autum pt [1] Kiwisim4 ● Block house Dining Little Dica ● Countryside Cabin ● Rise and Grind Myshunosun ● Tranquil bedroom [office chair] Peacemaker ● Hudson Bathroom ● Terra Tiles Vertical ● Vera Office [Desktop pc] Pierisim ● David Apartment pt [1] ● Domain du clos pt [1] ● MCM pt [3] ● Oak house pt [3] ● Unfold ● Winter Garden pt [1] [2] Max 20 ● Poolside Lounge pack * Ravasheen ● Shake and Simmy Dance Floor ● Uplifting Elevator Rusticsim ● Simple kind of modular life Sixam ● Hotel Bedroom ● Teen Room Syboulette ● Flavie Bar ● Karaoke Taurus Design ● Lilith Chilling Area Tuds ● Crib ● Wave ● Zalz

● DOWNLOAD Tray File and CC list: Patreon Page ● Origin ID: anrheya [previous name: applez] ● Twitter: Rheya28__ ● Tiktok: Rheya28__ ● Youtube: Rheya28__

[vintagehomecollection]

Separated from the living room by a partial wall, the dining room has sliding doors that can close it off completely. Benjamin Moore's 'Decorator White' on the walls and a bleached treatment on the oak floors provide a pale setting for the cherry-colored leather chairs and table of ebonized ash.

House Beautiful Color, 1993

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Check out this cool castle for only $210K. The 1970 stone home in Robins, GA has 3bds, 2ba. It does need some work and decor.

There's a nice stone feature wall in the living room, (I thought that it was a fireplace, maybe it is), and 2 built-in cabinets. The portable mirrored fireplace will probably not stay.

This would be the everyday dining area next to the kitchen, but the owners have a very formal dining room set here.

The kitchen is nice, the oak cabinets are in good shape, but usually, when there are upper cabinets with a narrow see-thru, designers will knock out the uppers and open it up. Look at the in-your-face flatscreen on the sink.

The primary bedroom has some castle-like beams in the pitched ceiling.

Here's a 1/2 bath.

What a cute porch. Look at the stone fireplace and the little red doors.

Look at the house- it's ivy-covered in the back. The grounds need some clean-up, and they'll be beautiful.

This could be gorgeous.

There's a big old barn back here. Gee, they really let the garden go to pot.

The garden is so dry. It's a shame how it's been so neglected.

Lovely garden swing.

This wrought iron arbor will come back to life with paint.

Isn't this adorable, though? It's like a little gnome home.

Cleaned up, this property would be like a fairy tale house.

Look at the driveway. 0.27 Acre lot

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/106-Hope-Pl-Warner-Robins-GA-31088/49857475_zpid/?

[slash-me-please]

Hello! A question: How would the Slashers react to seeing that their partner prepared a dessert with a somewhat sadistic theme? (Context: I saw a video where there is a person who makes a cake with details of a face, and when you cut it juice comes out of the red fruit, he also makes cookies with eyes [Clearly they are not real])

Sorry if my spelling is wrong, but it's because I don't know many English

Slashers Reaction to their S/O Decorative Baking.

A/N: I got inspiration from 3 different tiktoks here. A bit sillier and fluffier than I wanted it to be. Michael's is a bit steamy

Thomas Hewitt

Luda Mae's kitchen is about ten degrees hotter than it usually was. You had dusted off her old gas stove and set it alight, going to town on the limited ingredients the off-the-grid household had collected throughout all the victims. Usually you put together small desserts, cookies, cake, but today you had really thought of an idea. You molded together the dough you had in your hands- pulling at the substance until it slightly resembled the nose bridge of a victim.

The pie was cherry today, tomorrow it could be something else but today it would be cherry. You giggle to yourself, the facial features of an uncanny valley freak of nature decorating your pie crust.

A light tapping breaks you out of your daze, you blink away the concentration to look at your husband. He gives you a concerned look. "I want you to feel like... I'm taking an interest in your hobbies." He turns away for a moment, but he looks back quicker than you would've thought. You wonder what he' s thinking but not for long before he's waiting at the table for you to finish.

Thomas has always wanted a family, a wife, someone to take care of. He forgets the improbabilities when he comes in from a long day of work and he smells your creations.

He thinks you're funny. He watches from behind sometimes; you're focused and locked in on some facepies. You shape each and every nose with love, and he turns his head away from Luda Mae when she briefly questions if maybe- he traumatized her a little bit.

Jason Voorhees

"Jason!" You called him from the other room, ecstatic with your new creation. You shift back and forth on both feet until he finally drags himself into the kitchen area for you to show him your treat. He blinks down at the Pyrex pan you are holding towards him, the red drip of- blood? rolling down- what would seem to be intestines? You still don't have his attention; this is a day job for him. "They're cinnamon rolls!" You beam at him, and that's what gets his attention. He nods with approval, and you begin to make him a plate.

As the two of you settle onto a water-logged, oak dining room set, he lift's his mask and eats at your snack slowly. You watch intently, proud of yourself for the decorating skills- and - for taking care of your boyfriend so well. He finishes up, looking back up at you and never mentioning that he hasn't tasted anything in a few decades.

His mom used to bake for him, she didn't use such... expressive techniques... but you're still appreciated.

Will eat everything you bake, he has no aversion to your decorating, but they don't affect him either way. He's got larger fish to be afraid of, like underage drinking.

Michael Myers

You sit at the dining room table, eyes trained on the wall clock in front of you. 3:17am. Your eyelids droop and you debate throwing in the towel and taking it upstairs for a moment before you finally hear the soft click of your screen door shutting. Michael makes his way into the kitchen, head tilting at the display on your kitchen table. Doll head covered apples? He reaches forward and grabs one off the table. The white chocolate crumbles underneath his fingertips, he looks at it for a moment. You know better than to say anything to him if you actually want him to try it.

He hikes the bottom half of his mask over his mouth, bringing the apple forward to take a bite. You watch, half lidded as he chews and swallows. His mouth upturns slightly and you feel your chest burn with pride. You had spent all day trying to get these right and he liked them. You reached onto the plate and grabbed one for your own, taking a bite and leaning your head back with a pleased moan. "I really outdid myself this time, didn't I?" He takes another bite, licking his lips of the white chocolate specks.

The two of you finish, looking hungrier than before. "What do you want me to make for you next time?" His eyes narrow, pulling the mask back down onto his face. "Maybe a tart?" Your eyes drag down. "Something glazed?"

Biggest sweet tooth ever! This skill of yours has saved you from the blunt edge of a knife quite a few times. There's nothing that keeps him coming home more than the edible arrangement of his favorite body parts you have made up for him.

He relishes in the attention, carefully examining each treat you create for him with precision. You watch him take down whatever you throw at him with such adoration, he tells himself that he only comes back for the food, but he can't help but anticipate the look on your face when you see him enjoy your gifts.