#pets limit housing options

[transgender-catboy]

I wish I had a dog

I just know my mental and physical health would improve drastically if I did

[roanofarcc]

FUNNY BUSINESS

pairing. tyler owens x boone’s sister!reader

summary. boone was a laid-back guy who only really had one, long-standing rule: his sister was off-limits to the wranglers. But tyler had a bad habit of rule-breaking.

 warnings. a curse or two, fem!reader, mentions of drinking/being drunk (not reader), suggestive jokes, bed-sharing.

word count. 4k || masterlist

“You’re the worst, you know that?” Dani said, her arms crossed over her chest as she leaned against the side of the rig alongside Tyler and Boone. She and Tyler had their sights set on you as you concentrated on the options of the vending machine, oblivious to their attention. 

Boone furrowed his brows, having just been focused on the camera in his hands. “Who?” 

“You,” Dani answered. “You brought your hot sister all of the way out here to help us, and then tell us she’s off-limits. It’s cruel and unusual punishment, if ‘ya ask me.” 

A laugh bubbled up from Tyler’s throat, earning him a glare from Boone. “It’s not my fault none of you assholes can keep it in your pants.” 

It was Tyler’s turn to glare, playfully. “I’m a gentleman, Boone. Is it a crime to get to know her, you know, considering she’s a part of the team now?” 

With a sigh, Boone shook his head. “Just no funny business.” 

Tyler mock saluted. “Scouts honor.” 

Tyler was a gentleman; his momma had raised him as such. And despite his teasing, he did want to respect Boone’s words. But at the same time, you were the newest member of the Wranglers, and Tyler did want to get to know you since you’d be hanging around for at least that season. 

Boone had suggested to bring you on to help with the charity aspect of their storm-chasing. The t-shirt and other sales they made from their online audience went mostly to help victims of the storms they chased, and the rest went back into making the merchandise to sell. Boone said you’d be a good addition to help out with the business side of things, and he’d been right from what Tyler had seen so far. You were smart and quick, and were able to keep up with the rest of Wranglers as if you’d been a part of the team since the start. Tyler was impressed. 

But what really impressed him, was how caring you were. It was the first time you’d come along with them to help out a neighborhood that was hit hard by a tornado. Houses were leveled and the devastation was thick in the air from the moment they arrived. 

The Wrangler quickly got to work. Lily and Dexter started making sandwiches. Dani started walking around and passing out water bottles. Boone helped the injured to the ambulances that arrived. Tyler started making rounds, helping families find their missing pets or important objects in the rubble. But as he did so, he couldn’t help but watch you interact with the victims as well. 

A couple of kids from the neighborhood sat together in a clear patch of grass while their parents tried to salvage some of their belongings and figure out what to do next. They all looked teary-eyed, and faces pulled in frowns as they sat quietly, clutching stuffed animals or picking at the wet grass to distract themselves. You approached them, sitting down in the little circle they formed. 

Tyler couldn’t hear what you were saying to them, but your started to look more and more animated and the kids cracked small smiles. After a couple more moments, the kids’ moods looked to shift into something lighter despite the devastation around them. The somber air slowly became filled with giggles and kids’ voices overlapping excitedly. 

Tyler found himself smiling softly at the sight before he ventured over. “How’s it going over here?” he asked, earning your attention. 

“David here is telling us a very interesting story about a space alien,” you said, earning an enthusiastic nod from one of the younger boys in the circle. “You guys keep telling stories and I’m gonna go make sure no one else needs help, okay?” 

The kids all shared a series of ‘okays’ and ‘thank yous’ before you moved to stand up. Tyler outstretched his hand toward you, and you took it with a smile, letting him help you to your feet. Once you stood directly in front of him, he felt himself clam up slightly. He and Dani had made jokes in hopes of irritating Boone in regards to how attractive you were, but seeing you that close, in the after-storm sunlight, Tyler’s breath hitched in his throat. 

“Thanks,” you said, dropping your hand back at your side and gazing around at what else there was to be done in the neighborhood. 

He cleared his throat. “That was smart, keepin’ their minds off of…” he vaguely gestured around them, feeling a knot in his gut of pity for the poor families affected. 

You smiled sadly. “My parents used to do that with Boone and I. When we’d have to wait in the cellar, we’d all tell stories until the storm passed. The more outrageous the better,” you explained. 

“It seemed to work,” Tyler said, glancing at the circle of kids all sharing outrageous stories with laughter and smiles instead of the frowns they held a couple minutes ago. 

“Yeah, at least a little bit,” you said. There was a beat where Tyler didn’t know what else to say. Something over his shoulder caught your eye before you looked back to him and said, “I’m gonna go help Boone.” You sidestepped Tyler and left him in a slight daze. 

He whispered a string of curses under his breath once he was out of earshot of the kids, and hurried back to the camper where the Wranglers were handing out food. 

“I’ve got a problem,” he muttered to his friends. 

Lily handed out another sandwich before eyeing him oddly. “A problem-problem or a you-problem?” 

“A me-problem.” 

“Ah,” she said. “Shoot, cowboy.” 

“It’s Boone’s sister,” he whispered, ensuring that only Lily, Dexter, and Dani heard him. “She’s…”

“Attractive? Yeah, I thought we already established that?” Dani said, opening another case of water. 

Tyler rubbed his forehead, an odd feeling twisting around inside his stomach. “It’s not just that,” he said. “She’s pretty, sure, but-” 

Lily cut him off with slightly wide eyes. “Oh no,” she said. 

Dexter furrowed his brows. “Oh no? Oh no, what?” 

“Tyler only, and I mean only, calls women ‘pretty’ when he has a crush on them. Some ole’ woman at a bar that’s makin’ eyes at him, he’ll call her ‘attractive’ or ‘easy on the eyes’ never ‘pretty.’ Pretty he saves for the ones he’s got a big fat school-boy crush on. And normally that’s all fine and dandy, but this is Boone’s sister we’re talking about, Tyler.” 

He hated how well Lily knew him. She read him like a book. 

Dexter whistled lowly. “That’s unfortunate.” 

“What’s unfortunate?” Boone said, approaching the group with you beside him. All of the Wranglers, aside from you two, looked at Tyler, which was anything but helpful. 

Boone was one of Tyler’s best friends, and he knew it was the right thing to listen to him. Besides, Tyler hadn’t known you long so maybe his ‘school-boy crush,’ as Lily had put it, would fade once he got used to having you around. 

Clearing his throat, Tyler shook his head. “Nothin’ important,” he said. “Let’s pass the rest of this food out before we head out for the night.” 

You adored your brother’s friends more than you thought you would. You’d watch the Wranglers’ livestreams, but it was different being around them in person. Their passion for storm chasing was admirable and how they helped those affected by the very storms they were in awe of was amazing. 

When Boone asked you to help out, you jumped at the opportunity. You certainly didn’t regret your decision, but you greatly underestimated the charm of Tyler Owens. You’d read the comments online, all ogling at the storm chaser, but it wasn’t just his looks that made him incredibly attractive. Tyler’s charm entered everything he did and said, but it was especially enticing when he talked about storms. When he got particularly excited, he spoke with his hands, lips pulled in a grin that was ridiculously mesmerizing. You could have listened to him talk about the weather forever, which was a problem. 

It felt foolish on your part; not only was Tyler one of your brother’s best friends, but you thought he was miles out of your league. He had people practically drooling over him in the comments of his videos and making eyes the second he stepped into a building. He was a personality, wild and loud, but with a sweet side to make him even more likable. You told yourself the little crush would pass, but you worried that if Tyler kept being so damn nice to you, it’d be years before that happened. 

“So, this is how storm chasers spend their off time?” you said, propping your elbows up on the bar before something sticky touched your skin. You recoiled in a grimace. 

A chuckle sounded from Tyler as he handed you a napkin. “Here,” he said. “And yeah, it’s the perfect way to unwind. Though, word of caution, don’t drink too much. Storm chasing hung-over is a different kind of hell.” 

You wiped someone’s spilled drink from your elbows and nodded. “Noted.” There was still a lot you had to learn about the ins and outs of storm chasing, but you were excited to learn. A silence passed between you two, the space filled with the bar chatter. The place was busy for it being in the middle of nowhere; the Wranglers said it was because most people were either dedicated locals or fellow storm chasers looking to relax a little. 

Your brother and the rest of the team were at the old-timey jukebox, picking out songs that they then danced to, loud and rowdy as ever. But Tyler didn’t join them. Instead, he sat at the bar nursing a beer. Before you arrived, he was talking to an old man on the other side of him, cracking jokes like he’d known the stranger for years. 

It was like each minute you were there with them, you uncovered something else about Tyler. And maybe it was a couple of sips of alcohol that were already affecting your system but felt like he should know that. 

“You know, you’re a little different than I thought you’d be,” you admitted. 

He studied for a moment with a gaze that made you nervous, but not in a bad way. “Oh yeah? How’d you think I was gonna be?” 

You shrugged. “I watch the lives, mostly to make sure Boone is okay, but online you seemed…” You weren’t sure of what the right word to use was. You settled on, “More intense, I guess.” 

A smirk crept across his lips. “And I am not intense enough for ‘ya?” 

Your face felt hot, and the busy bar wasn’t helping. You adverted your eyes down to your drink and tried to laugh off your fluster. “I just mean, I thought you’d be like all of the time. I was worried I wouldn’t be able to keep up and you’d all think I wasn’t a good fit.” 

The smirk fell from Tyler’s face and was replaced with a furrow of his brows. “Are you crazy?” he said. “We needed someone like you on our team. I know you just started, but I think you’re the best fit we could’ve picked.” 

“Careful,” you teased. “Too many compliments like that might go to my head.” Even though you were pretty sure he was just trying to make you feel better, there was something in his tone that was convincing. 

“What are y’all doin’?” Boone’s voice filled your ears and suddenly his arm was slung around both your and Tyler’s shoulders, forcing you two to lean in a little bit closer to one another, but with Boone sandwiched in the middle. Your brother’s breath smelled like beer and there was that goofy smile on his face he always got when he had one too many. “The party’s on the dance floor!” 

You glanced over at the ‘dance floor’ which was a little space the Wranglers had carved out in front of the jukebox. A couple others joined them, but it wasn’t anything too wild. 

Tyler shook his head and finished his beer. “Your ass is gonna be sorry tomorrow, Boone. I told you we’re leaving bright and early.” 

Boone patted Tyler’s cheek. “I’ll be just fine.” 

Boone was not ‘just fine’ the next morning. What he was a pain in Tyler’s ass, which resulted in him being demoted to the backseat and you prompted to the passenger seat. Maybe that wasn’t the best move for Tyler because while he was driving, he found himself slightly distracted by you. 

You sat with your attention fixed out the window, watching the plains roll by with admiration. Every so often you fiddled with the radio per Lily’s request, but other than that you were quiet, observing. 

“Can we take a pit stop?” Boone moaned. Tyler glanced at in the rearview mirror, face paled and eyes squeezed shut. 

Tyler sighed. “I swear, if you throw up in my truck, Boone…” Tyler muttered, straining his eyes down the road for any sign of a gas station, but there didn’t look to be anything close. 

“There’s not another stop for half an hour tops,” you said, searching on your phone. 

“Great, cool, yeah,” Boone said. “Then you may wanna pull over or else everyone’s about to have a real bad time in here.” 

Tyler quickly pulled off to the side of the road and Boone scrambled out, across the road to empty his stomach. 

“I don’t know how many times I’ve got to tell him,” Tyler sighed. 

“He won’t listen,” Lily said, unbuckling and sticking her face between you and Tyler. “I’ll make sure he’s all right. You two keep an eye on the weather.” She hopped out, leaving you and Tyler alone. 

He drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, wracking his brain for something to say to you. Normally he had no issue talking to people, but he found himself second-guessing his words when it came to you. But you beat him to the punch. 

“He’s never been too good at holding his alcohol,” you said. “I can’t tell you how many times I had to pick him up because he got sick at some friend’s bonfire back in high school. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone get hangovers so badly.” 

“All a part of his charm, I guess,” Tyler joked. “Does it run in the family?” 

You shook your head. “No, neither charm nor hangovers. Boone’s one of a kind, that’s for sure.” 

Tyler steadied himself a little, finding that thread of confidence in the back of his mind. He gazed at you, taking in the pretty features of your face. “I think you’re wrong on the charming bit.” 

You looked surprised, eyes a little wider. “Me? Charming?” You scoffed. “No way.” 

“Charming, smart, pretty…” Tyler trailed off, waiting for a reaction from you to let him know if he had swung and missed. You looked down, averting your eyes and clearing your throat. Out the windshield, he saw two figures moving in his peripheral vision and before you got the chance to say anything back, Boone and Lily reentered the car. 

“That’s my bad, you guys,” Boone said. 

You turned your head over your shoulder to look at your brother. “Feel better?” 

“Oh, yeah. Ready to chase this son of a bitch!” And you all were off again. Tyler wished Boone and Lily had held out for one more minute. He wanted some kind of response from you, even if it was one telling him he had no chance. It was like an itch he couldn’t scratch, and one he felt bad about having, but he couldn’t help it. You were something new, a little unknown, and unpredictable. If there was one thing Tyler was good at, it was chasing through his apprehension. But instead of a tornado, you had quickly become the storm occupying his mind. 

You knocked for the fifth time on Boone’s door and tried calling him again, but one thing about your brother was that he was one of the heaviest sleepers of anyone you’ve ever met. That paired with his hangover from the night prior left him not answering you. You cursed under your breath, ready to set up camp in one of the rickety pool lounge chairs. 

There was an unpleasant pair of cockroaches in your motel room and the thought of sleeping with them scurrying about was out of the question. Since none of the other Wranglers had left their rooms, you wondered if you were the only one to notice them or the only one who had them. Whatever the case was, you couldn’t sleep in your room and apparently, you couldn’t sleep in Boone’s either because he was fast asleep. You couldn’t remember where Dani and Lily's rooms were to ask to bunk them. 

It seemed like you were out of luck until the door next to Boone’s opened and a groggy Tyler stepped out. “What’s goin’ on?” he yawned, rubbing the tiredness from his eyes. 

You hugged your arms closer to your body. “Sorry, did I wake you up?” 

“Sorta,” he answered and you felt immediately guilty. “But it’s all right. I just wanted to make sure everything was okay out here. What’re you doin’ up anyway? It’s the middle of the night.” 

“There are cockroaches in my room,” you sighed. “I was trying to see if I could crash with Boone, but he sleeps like the dead.” 

Tyler chuckled. “That he does.” There was a beat and silent contemplation. You were about to tell him you’d crash in the camper or the truck, but he nodded his head back toward his room. “Come on,” he said. 

You stood, confused for a moment. “You can crash with me. I don’t think my room has cockroaches but for both our peace of mind, I wouldn’t look around too hard.” 

You weren't sure if you were elated or embarrassed. Overall, you were tired, exhausted even, and any thought of declining fled your mind the second Tyler turned to walk back inside, assuming you were following. So, you did. 

Tyler patted the edge of the bed. “It’s all yours,” he said, gathering one of the pillows in his arms. 

“What’re you doing?” 

He tossed the pillow onto the floor. “Praying for no cockroaches for the next couple of hours.” 

“No, wait,” you rushed out. “You can’t sleep on the floor.” 

“It’s all good-” he started, but you cut him off. 

“No way. I’m not kicking you out of your bed in your room.” You glanced at the bed, feeling your face grow hot at the thought of what you were about to suggest, but you couldn’t let him spend the night on the floor. “We can just…share.” 

Tyler stared at you for a moment, like he didn’t know what to say. He shifted his gaze between the pillow on the floor and the bed before landing back on you. “Are you sure? Because I really don’t mind.” 

“I’m sure.” 

Hesitantly, you sat on the edge of the bed and pulled off your shoes, trying to ignore the shift of weight on the mattress as sat down opposite of you. It wasn’t as big of a deal as your mind was trying to tell you it was. It was just two co-workers, borderline friends, sharing a bed so no one had to face any cockroaches. That was all it was. But even in the darkness of the motel room, you couldn’t help the quick beat of your heart as you crawled under the covers, with your back facing Tyler. He did the same and before you could convince yourself what you were doing was not a big deal at all, Tyler’s soft snores filled the room. It was oddly reassuring. You fell asleep not long after him, a clear space between you but something in the air that wanted to draw you two closer. 

For a moment, when he woke up, Tyler thought the exchange he had with you in the middle of the night had been a dream. But when he rolled over to find your sleeping face inches away from his, he realized it was very much real. Your eyes were softly closed and your lips slightly parted as you slept. He found himself admiring you for just a moment, until there was a loud knock on his door, forcing him to get up. 

He threw it open without thinking much about it. Boone greeted him with a slightly worried expression pulled on his face. “Hey, man what’s-” 

“Have you seen my sister? She called me last night a bunch of times, but I didn’t hear it. And when I went to her room no one answered,” Boone said, quickly cutting Tyler off. 

“Boone?” Your voice sounded from behind Tyler and as soon as he saw the several emotions flicker across Boone’s face, he realized he may have made a mistake. 

Boone’s gaze flickered between you sleepily sitting up in Tyler’s bed and Tyler. “Dude!” he exclaimed. “What the hell is going on here?” 

It must have registered with you too how the situation looked. You hurried out of bed and stood at Tyler’s side. “Wait, hold on-” 

“What the hell are you doing?” he said to you. “I said no funny business,” he then said to Tyler. 

“It’s not like that,” Tyler rushed out. “I know that it looks like that, but it’s not. I swear.” 

“He’s right,” you added. “It’s not. I needed a place to crash because there were bugs in my room, and you wouldn’t answer your phone. Tyler offered to let me stay in his. That’s all.” 

Boone didn’t look too convinced. He crossed his arms over his chest, blowing air from his cheeks. “You two have been making googly eyes at each other since you arrived,” Boone said. Both you and Tyler tried to defend yourself, even if Tyler hadn’t been super subtle about his ‘googly’ eyes. But Boone cut you both off with a wave of his hand. “Save it. I know both of you. You,” he pointed to Tyler. “Are the least subtle person I know. And you,” he pointed at you. “Have been talking about him since I started chasing with him.” 

Your eyes widened almost comically as you sputtered over your response. “I-I have not!” 

“Look,” Boone started, taking a deep breath. “You’re both adults. But if you’re gonna get into any funny business, for the love of the Lord himself, do not do it around me. Got it?” 

“Okay,” you answered, catching Tyler off guard. He expected you to brush your brother off and force Tyler to face the reality that you had no interest in him, but you didn’t. 

Boone looked to him for his answer. “Y-Yeah.” 

“Good,” Boone said. “We’re leavin’ in fifteen.” He turned on his heel and left the two of you in the doorway. Once he was out of earshot, a laugh sounded from your lips, a sweet sound he wasn’t expecting. 

“God, that was embarrassing,” you said, still laughing at the situation. 

Tyler couldn’t help but laugh too, closing the door and leaving the two of you alone in his motel room once more. “Is that true? You talk about me?” 

You hung your head, sheepishly and shrugged. “Maybe.” The idea of you talking about him made him feel on top of the world. “Is what he said about you true? Are you really not that subtle?” 

“I did invite you to sleep with me,” he joked, taking a step closer to you. You didn’t move away but instead closed the distance between you two even more. He searched your eyes for a sign that you were thinking the same thing he was, and when your gaze flickered to his lips for only a second, he got his confirmation. 

Tyler hooked a finger under your chin, tilting your head upwards just slightly as he leaned in. He kissed you slowly, sweetly as you hung your arms around his shoulders to bring him in even closer, the two of you pressed chest to chest. He felt you smile against his lips, a blissful feeling he didn’t to end.

[cavillscurls]

daddy next door | j. miller (three)

❝ trust fall ❞

You’re forced to face Joel following the events of the fair.

tags/warnings: MDNI. age gap (20s/50s). angst. depictions of anxiety. reader is a sensitive gal. foul language. blood in the form of scrapes/cuts (accidental). tending to wounds. joel lifts reader once. insufferably poor communication of feelings. pet names. yearning!!! fluff. sexual tension. impure thoughts. violence. alcohol abuse. VERBAL & BRIEF PHYSICAL ABUSE occurs in the latter half of the chapter and may not be suitable for all readers. you are responsible for the content you consume. reader wears a sundress & rides a bike. reader implied to be shorter than joel, but no other physical descriptions. word count: 5.6k

a/n: smut very soon i promise pls don’t hate me. sorry it took so long pls don’t hate me. as always, thank you to @kiwisbell for beta’ing and being my other hand. and the other side of my brain. and my whole heart.

two | series masterlist | four | playlist | read it on ao3!

These violent delights have violent ends. 

And in their triumph die, like fire and powder,

Which as they kiss, consume. 

— Romeo & Juliet, Act II Scene VI

Three days pass before you summon the courage to leave the house. 

Not for lack of wanting or trying, but out of fear. Fear outside, fear within. It follows you, an unwelcome shadow. 

You start to believe it may be branded into your being; a mutation of DNA, carried, inescapable, and unwanted. And in those three long and lonely days, you experience a range of emotions so vast, it’s as though the Earth has tipped off its axis. 

Unstable. Lost without the guidance of gravity. 

The flicker of light you deemed a threat three nights prior never came to hunt you. You remained cautious, even after the laborious task of sneaking into your own home succeeded. You’d expected to meet a great wrath, look it in its eyes, and accept whatever suffering followed. 

But it never came. He never came. 

And on that following morning, there were no signs of your father or the destruction he carried. He left for the station long before you woke, and returned after you settled in bed. 

In the days that follow, you lose any sense of self; you’re bound by the fear that follows you, and it feasts on rationale. You seem to notice everything around you, like the way the floorboards creak and how they startle you in a way they never had before. You’re glaringly aware of your father's movements, panic seizing you if he’d look too long or speak too often. The skin around your fingernails grows raw from chewing on them. 

You can hardly eat. 

Can’t sleep. 

Not when you have this secret, too hazardous to enjoy despite the fleeting, marvelous thrill it gave you. 

You haven’t allowed yourself the time to dwell on it. 

To dwell on him. 

His name, his eyes, his lips—you put more effort into wiping them from your memory, your fantasies, than you do clinging to the comfort of them. It's the first time in weeks you don’t devote yourself to him and, oddly enough, you feel guilty. 

You’re the one who kissed him. And yet here you are, avoiding the repercussions of your own actions like a child fearful of a scolding. You suppose the rationale isn’t too far-fetched, given your circumstance, but all you’re able to conjure up when you close your eyes is the bewildered look on Joel’s face when you left him standing there in the yard. 

Guilty, guilty, guilty. 

On the third morning, your father acknowledges you only to order the necessary ingredients for a proper dinner to be fetched while he’s away at work. He’d be home at an acceptable time and expects it to be ready on the table when he returns. 

You’ve heard the spiel a dozen times, but still only nod and grab the notepad to prepare your list while he rattles off adequate options. With longer nights at the station, your household expectations often lessen in the summer. A luxury you do not take for granted nor particularly like to push the limits of. Especially now. 

Still, you sit awaiting some anticipated doom—perhaps he’s festering it, waiting for the right moment to attack—but it never comes. And all that’s left once he’s gone is the formidable silence, your erratic thoughts, and a list. 

Lasagne. Easy enough. 

The challenge? 

Getting to the grocery store. 

You’re aware of the inevitable. You have been aware of it for three days now. At some point, one way or another, whether you like it or not, you have to leave the house. Up until now, the risk had substantially outweighed the reward. 

He can’t see you. You can’t see him. Seeing him makes it real. Seeing him means facing demons you’re unable to admit even exist. 

It doesn’t matter that your chest aches at the thought of him. 

It doesn’t matter that the smothered thing inside of you has been scratching at your insides for three days, pleading for a moment of reprieve. 

What matters is completing the task at hand, the impossibility of juggling each fear simultaneously growing burdensome. 

You look out the front window first. Once before tying your sneakers and once after. Your bike is propped up in the garage, and you worry about the time it’ll take between leaving the safety of the window and opening the garage door. 

Speed is your only companion, and so you’re quick, diligent. Darting across the house and towards the laundry room door, making haste in clicking the garage open, and shoving your wallet and the list into the bike’s basket before mounting it. You know you have to ride past his house to get to the market, so you reach for the keypad outside the garage before you can even push the kickstand off. You take another swivel of your head in the direction of his house, no sign of any life, before you skate down the driveway, holding your breath.

The journey is considerably more climactic in your head, and when you make it down the block with not so much as a whiff of being seen, you’re relieved. Perhaps for the first time in days, your shoulders relax, your mind silences, and you find yourself enjoying the mindless task of rummaging through the market aisles. A beauty in simplicity after days of dilemma. 

You’re less inclined to trepidation on the way home, silently unaware, even enjoying the breeze while you ride and the way it kisses your skin, a bit cooler today, the sun toasty, and the sights and sounds of summer in all their beauty surrounding you. A blank slate, a thoughtless mind. Numb. And there’s a comfort in it, regaining parts of yourself in tiny fragments. Believing that, just for a moment, you are allowed to resign yourself to absolution. 

But the daze is a farce, and it has you weak, vulnerable. You’re nearing your house, caution loose and tenuous, to the point where you foolishly miss the glare of a front door opening and the body that emerges from it. 

The sudden sound of your name being called from across the lawn startles you off balance. 

You land on your hands and knees when the bike finally tips. Groceries topple out of the basket, the impact of the concrete radiating a sharp pain through your joints and stinging your eyes with tears. 

“Shit. Shit,” you heave under your breath, hands scrambling every which way to collect the strewn items. 

You make out the shape of a body moving towards you in your periphery, but your mind cautions you to stay focused, to get away as quickly as possible. You can hardly see in front of you, eyes blurred with emerging sobs, when the shape kneels before you.

“Here, let me help you.” The rich timbre of his drawl is a salve over your self-inflicted wounds. Don’t look, don’t look, but hands are reaching out for assistance. 

“No! No, I got it. I got it,” you’re quick to combat, attempting to gather every item before he has a chance to get his hands on them.

But it’s useless. Your shaking fingers can’t find a good grasp, and the pain in your palms and knees increases by the moment, too engorged in your panic to notice the blood staining the concrete and your groceries. 

“But you’re—”

“I need to get everything inside; some of it’ll spoil.” 

And someone could see you. Someone could see both of you, floundering about, too close for comfort. 

“Darlin’, please just—”

“It’s fine, okay? I’ve got it!” you snap, and you don’t mean to sound as harsh as you do. 

He’s silent then, still. Only for a moment. Long enough to notice the way your chin starts to tremble and how tears spill down your cheeks against your better attempts to conceal them. 

“Hey,” he beckons, and you notice the way he tries to tilt his head further into your line of sight. You do your best to avoid him, but, “Hey,” he tries again, and this time, it’s got an edge. Enough to startle you out of your misery-filled stupor. “Look at me.” 

And fuck, you’re so weak. 

He’s a sight for sore eyes. Tousled curls, an old white t-shirt, and his flannel pajama pants are all indications that his morning has just begun. The newspaper he must have been coming out for is abandoned in the grass a few yards back, his attention solely on you. 

You find clarity in the sight of him. 

“You’re hurt. Let me help you,” Joel says calmly, matter of fact. A wounded animal, and he’s guiding you back to safety. 

And you need it more than you care to admit, the guidance. Allowing yourself the pleasure of looking into his wide, worried eyes smothers the anxieties. Silences the panic. Dulls the pain in your chest from days of denying yourself of the remedy you needed most, so when he presents you with an outstretched hand, you take it hastily. 

He helps you to your feet, and when he’s sure you’re stable, stands your bike upright, gathers what he can of the mess of groceries, and tucks them back into the basket. He places one hand on the handlebars, the other steadily finding its way to the small of your back, and your body comes to life. 

You welcome his stability, leaning your weight into the crook of his arm. He guides you and your scuffed bicycle up the lawn, leaning it against the banister of the front porch. You let him lead you up the steps, overbearing and doting in the way he holds you steady at the ribcage, muttering under his breath, c’mon, I’ve got ya. 

You would think you just fell from fifty feet with the way he coddles you, but you don’t care. How could you? Not when your hands and knees sting, your nerves fray weak and exhausted, and your heart and soul and body crave so little outside of the warmth that is Joel. 

Crossing the threshold of his door is sacred. An uncharted, forbidden territory that, up until three nights ago, you had no reason to assume you would ever explore. You wish you were more coherent, that tears weren’t blurring your eyes, and your body wasn’t in a state of panic, so you could properly take in your surroundings. 

You notice a few moving boxes still pushed up in the corners of his living room; other than that, the space is pristine. There’s a wooden, rustic theme that carries across his décor, and he leaves all his blinds open for ample natural light. Bright, warm, inviting. A drastic change of pace from the stale air that always seems to occupy your home. 

He’s leading you into the kitchen, and you're torn from the daze as soon as his hands are on your hips. 

You yelp softly as he hoists you onto the countertop, wide, wet eyes finally mustering the courage to meet his gaze. It drops almost immediately to the state of your bloody knees, and he shakes his head, a gruff sort of displeased sound expelling from his chest. 

“Stay put,” he instructs, giving you a stern look before he vanishes around the corner. 

You can’t quite process the world in front of you. Simultaneously heavy and weightless, the internal conflict, the lack of sleep, catching up to you. But when Joel returns a moment later, first aid kit and damp washcloth in hand, you’re grounded. A firm, clear presence of stability that removes all weight, all sense of falling. 

You feel, perhaps for the first time in your life, that someone would catch you. 

He drags one of the bar stools over, settling himself in front of you. He still doesn’t meet your eyes, fiddling open the kit and scouring for materials. You can feel his breath on your thighs, eliciting a warmth in the pit of your stomach. 

Suddenly, the pain of your fall seems minuscule in comparison to the way his proximity sets your body alight. You’re thankful for the shorts below your sundress; intended to give you some decency on your ride to the store, now a barrier between his counter, his watchful eyes, and a part of you that always seems to ache at the sight of him. 

You dig your fingers into the edge of the wood so as to not waver, sniffling back the ceasing tears and clearing your throat. You blink the haze out of your eyes, the ringing in your ears stops, and like magic, his effect makes the world seem clearer. 

“Hold still.” He starts with the washcloth, tenderly cleaning off the dirt and drying blood from your skin, and you shiver when one of his hands lightly dances at the crux of your knee. 

You watch him intently; focused brows, and careful fingers. Your perched position gives you a glorious view of his shoulders, firm and broad, muscles flexing below the thin fabric of his t-shirt. You’re reminded then of the day he moved in and your voyeuristic tendencies, how the sheer breadth of him had enticed you, left you lost to your fantasies long before you even knew him. 

It’s hard to grasp that the same man, worried and attentive to your well-being, sits before you now. 

The sudden cold, sharp sensation of an antiseptic wipe against your skin makes you hiss through your teeth, snapping you back into focus. Finally, he peers up at you through furrowed brows, a sympathetic downturn on his lips. 

“Stings?” he asks, and he’s so gentle. His voice, his touch, his being. 

You shrug, feeling bashful under his gaze. “A little, yeah.” 

He purses his lips and nods solemnly, as if your discomfort causes him a great deal of pain, too. “M’almost done,” he promises, returning to his diligent work. 

The two of you sit in silence while he finishes cleaning your wound, sufficiently less daunting with all the blood removed. The scrapes are hardly deep and you’re certain the bruises will heal in a week’s time. He retrieves two bandages from the kit, one purple and one blue, and drapes them delicately over the scuff of each knee. 

“Hands,” he requests, and you present them to him palms up. He takes each wrist between his fingers, lifting them to his chest in examination. No blood, just the burn of the concrete on the heels of them where you clumsily caught yourself.  “Don’t look too bad; may just be sore for a little while.” 

You’re nodding even though you hardly hear the words that come out of his mouth, too enamored with the way his fingers warm rings around your wrists.  

He catches you staring, and surely now, he’ll send you on your way. Now that he’s done his due diligence, he’ll make up some polite excuse to get you out of his space. He’ll choose avoidance, just as you had, and you’ll be forced to endure the misery of the unknown, to be complicit with a life of no risk and missed opportunities. 

But he surprises you, a frequent trend, when he leans forward and presses two, soft kisses to each battered palm. 

Your breath catches audibly in your throat, and he shoots his eyes back up to you, lips still dangerously close to your skin. His own inner turmoil is so plain, so clear, in the way he studies you that you don’t even try to mask the emotion that creeps back into your eyes. 

“Better?” he whispers, the brush of his breath on your skin raising goosebumps up your exposed arms. 

Untrusting of your voice, you breathe a wavering mmhm, the urge to melt into him overwhelming by the way he looks at you. It’s a familiar look. One you’ve seen before, only once. Three days ago. Dire and conflicted, and god, you want to kiss him again. You think he must lean forward, or maybe it's you, because his breath is on your face now too, and you can see every line of worry that plagues him. 

“Joel…” you whisper, and it’s a question, a plea, a warning all at once. You see his eyes flicker, if only for a moment, your lips and back again, a frown creasing at the edges of them. 

He sighs a despondent sound, abruptly standing, jarring you, losing your hands in the process as he drags the barstool back to its designated spot. Suddenly, he’s got his hands on his hips, and he’s pacing the modest kitchen space, eyes and thoughts amiss. It may be the first time you see him as anything other than the picture of composure, save for the fateful moment three nights prior where the same eyes and thoughts screamed retribution for Trevor rather than strife for you. 

“Listen,” he finally breathes, and it’s painful, “we needa talk about what happened.” 

And there it is. The unavoidable. 

“O-okay.” Your voice wavers and your stomach drops, and you suddenly feel like a child under scrutiny. The first words that come to mind tumble out in an attempt to lessen the tension. “I’m… I'm sorry, Joel. Really, I am—”

He rapidly shakes his head. “Stop. Stop. I’m not askin’ you to apologize, alright? I’m the—” he stops cold, and you stiffen. You can’t read his mind, but you know his eyes, and they speak words you’d rather not hear. 

I’m the grown-up here. 

I’m the older one. 

I’m the responsible one. 

You cringe at the plausible fill-in-the-blanks, conscious of their validity, and you think he does too. 

He expels a heavy, tired sort of sigh. “I’m the one that shoulda put a stop to it,” he settles on. 

You consider what he says for a long while, unsure of whether to scream, or laugh, or cry, or all three at once; unsure if his confession soothes you or crushes you from the inside out. You know you should be grateful for the apology, thankful that he willingly takes the burden of fault off of you. But in seeking forgiveness, he makes another notion, a far more painful one, abundantly clear. 

Regret. 

“And I understand if you want me to leave ya alone from now on,” he continues, and you can’t help but feel like the spiel is rehearsed. As if he spent hours talking to himself in the mirror, debating the right things to say. Questioning, now that the line has been thoroughly crossed, what is even right or wrong. “But I couldn’t do that without talkin’ to ya first. Settin’ things right.”

“I don’t want you to leave me alone.” You jump on top of his words, and Joel’s brows shoot up on his forehead. He stops pacing. 

You curse your eagerness, eyes falling to your hands in your lap where you aimlessly pick at the skin around your nails. “I mean… I’m not–I’m not mad. I’m not mad at you for what happened, I just”—you look back to him, uncertain—“want things to go back to normal.” 

As if there is such a thing. As if one taste of him hadn’t changed the world as you know it. As if there is any version of you, then and now, that wouldn’t want him. 

You know nothing as familiar as wanting him. 

The silence that follows is torturous. He takes you in, unreadable, for what seems like eternity. You see a boundless bounty of emotion in his eyes—eyes that have become familiar, comforting in the way that the thought of losing them seems too grand to endure, even if you never have them in the capacity you long for. 

He’s nibbling on his bottom lip, tapping his foot, and his hands fall from his hips to fold his arms across his chest. “Well, then I think we oughta just… go on s’if nothin’ happened. Put it behind us.”

And still, a dagger in the heart would have been less painful. 

You wait, staring at him for a long while with the false hope that he would go back on his words. That he didn’t want to forget, and you search for it desperately. The truth behind his eyes and his words, that you assume he imagines will protect you, protect the both of you. 

Sensing no form of retraction, you take a deep breath hoping the excess oxygen will calm your racing heart, and straighten yourself up on the counter. 

“Alright.” His mind has already been made up; arguing would make you a desperate fool. Still, you find yourself adding: “If that’s what you think is best.” 

Surprise flashes across his face, and you watch the way his mouth falls open only to shut rapidly. He presses his lips into a thin line and his nostrils flare. There’s a beat of adrenaline, challenge. And the caged thing inside of you, something you have recognized as the sliver of hope you still carry for your life, comes to life. A bright sensation, wondering if she’s succeeded in breaking down the final choice of savior. 

“Yeah,” Joel mutters, and the light goes out. “Yeah, I think it is.” 

Rejection. 

Don’t cry, don’t cry. 

You try your hardest to feign acceptance. 

“Okay. Well”—you’re sliding off the counter, blood rushing to your head when you land on your feet—“thank you for um, for taking care of me.” 

You think he knows you well enough by now to hear the familiar warbling in your voice, but if he does, he doesn’t say anything. You keep your eyes fixed on your feet so he doesn’t see the way they gloss over. 

You wonder if life's circumstances had always been the root of your downfall, or if it really is hope herself. 

He offers you the option to stay a while longer, give yourself a chance to regroup, but you politely decline. The air in his home is suddenly suffocating. You mumble something about needing to get the groceries inside as you shuffle towards his door, hoping he won’t follow, but alas, he’s walking you to it, stepping around you to reach for the handle himself. 

“You’re sure you don’t, uh… you don’t need anythin’ else?” he asks again, hand steady on the door but making no effort to open it, arching his brow over his shoulder at you. 

Please, don’t make this harder than it already is. 

You give him a trained, tight-lipped smile. Polite. The same one you give everyone in town, lackluster. “No.” And it’s a lie. You need everything from him. “No, thank you. I’ll be alright.” 

If he’s unconvinced, he doesn’t say so, and there’s another pang of hurt in your belly. 

When he finally turns the handle, Joel peeks out the door first before allowing you to pass. Good, you think. At least he’s just as aware of the risk of you being here. A minor thing to cling to, but you take what you can get. 

You shuffle past him silently, reaching for the handles of your bicycle still tucked safely beside the door. You do a quick scan to make sure you have everything, but really, you’re stalling. Attempting to let the past hour marinate so you can form some sort of cohesive thought, say something of substance, something true. 

When you look back, he’s still in the doorway. You give him a once over, taking your missed opportunity to admire him. Comfortable, poised, a little disheveled from the morning in the best of ways. 

He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, and you snap your eyes back to his. His lips part, and there’s a rush of it again, that hope deep inside of you. But again, he clenches them shut without a word, and disappointment regains its leverage. 

You don’t look at him after that. 

“I’ll see you around, Mr. Miller,” is the last thing you say to him before hoisting your bike off the porch stairs and carefully rolling it down the driveway. 

On the walk back over to your house—damn near a sprint despite the searing in your knees—you think the duality of your relationship with Joel Miller may finally drive you to insanity. 

On the one hand, your agreed-upon boundaries are nothing short of practical. Safe, sustainable with minor difficulty, and realistic. 

On the other, you’re unable to count the number of times you’ve experienced the urge to break every rule, practical or otherwise. And worse, how easy it’s become to convince yourself he feels it, too. There shouldn’t be such an assuredness in it, but it lives. Feeding and festering and waiting for one of you to bend. 

Only this time, you’re certain you would break. 

Once inside, you mindlessly shove the groceries into their respective spaces and drag yourself up the stairs. You’re tired. Physically, mentally, emotionally, every ounce of you drained. And it’s welcomed, the exhaustion. It’s the first time in three days you feel unburdened enough to even entertain the idea of settling. And you’d like to chalk it up to handling your own bullshit, but you know it’s because of him. 

Even if the outcome would leave you solemn for days to come, seeing him, feeling him, it eased you. There is a lingering feeling of closure. It would take time to accept, but is far better than the alternative of sitting with your unanswered thoughts. 

He doesn’t hate you. 

He isn’t shutting you out. 

He’s still there if you need him. 

You’re nearly certain of it. 

You flop your body onto the center of your bed, nestling your head into the pillows. Your limbs feel like weights melting into the mattress, and it’s not long before your eyes feel the same heaviness. 

You let yourself drift off, clinging to all that is nearly certain. 

The window is already dark when you wake, and you're roused by the sound of banging and grunting. Despite the commotion, your eyes don’t open at first—your body’s subconscious attempt at protection from the horrors in front of you. But as you gradually blink awake, the sight before you leaves you scrambling up in your sheets.

Pages coat your bedroom floor, toppling from the bookshelf in the corner of the room. Your father stands before it, clumsily tearing out row by row of your most prized possessions. 

“What are you…?” The terror doesn’t register, not until the sound of ripped paper and cracked bindings become loud, thunderous, in your ears. 

“No, stop. Stop!” Pleadingly, you cry out to him, twisting the sheets off of you and darting across the wooden panes. You hadn’t meant to sleep this long. “Stop, please! Please!” you screech, foolishly grasping for his shoulders as you trip over the growing pile of tarnished literature. 

He shrugs you off, a mere nuisance in his pursuit of destruction. “If you’re gonna be so damn distracted you can’t get somethin’ as simple as dinner done, I’m gonna get rid of the distractions,” he seethes, a vow he intends to keep, and you’re tugging on the back of his shirt, grabbing at his hands and trying desperately to pull them away from the shelves. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! It won’t happen again, I swear it! Please just–ugh!” 

The wind escapes your lungs when he whips around and a firm hand presses to your throat, your back making sharp contact with the wall adjacent to the bookshelf. 

Liquor and tobacco, his breath is hot against your face. His eyes are void of all feeling, and you struggle for air against the stronghold on your neck. Your sinuses burn, your eyes fill with tears, and there’s a moment, brief, where you wonder how long it would take your heart to stop. How much oxygen would need to be deprived to slip into blissful mindlessness. 

You know he wouldn’t be so forgiving. 

“Don’t you ever put your hands on me like that again, girl, you hear me?” he barks, slamming his unoccupied hand against the wall beside your head. “Do you hear me?!” 

Your mouth gapes open, and you try to speak but nothing comes. The salty taste of tears coats your lips, and in an act of desperation, you dare to claw at his wrists, mustering up the strength to nod as well as you can. When he still does not release you, the fight or flight kicks in, and the blur that washes over your vision and the dizziness in your head fills you with fear. Genuine and unadulterated, how easy it would be for him to make nothing out of you. 

“Yes,” you croak, and the sound of your own voice startles you. “Y-yes, sir!” 

He lets you go, and your knees give out. You slide your back down the wall, heaping over on yourself. You hug your knees close to your chest, gasping breaths and wet, watchful eyes as he prowls across the room. 

The final blow is the most devastating, and you think you may actually be sick to your stomach. As he steps over the debris towards the door, he picks up what you assume to him is only a random book. But you catch the title, fine calligraphy sprawled, Romeo & Juliet, just before he mercilessly tears the spine in half, letting the pages fall amongst the wreckage. 

No sound comes out of your open mouth. No feeling reaches your fingers or toes, and you wonder if your state of shock has allowed you to finally leave your own body. Teleport somewhere else, somewhere far away, to not endure another moment of a pain you cannot decipher what you ever did to deserve. 

It is, was, your only copy of the play. 

And it belongs, belonged, to your mother. One of the few things you pulled out of the sparse pile of her tucked away deep in the attic. One of the only pieces of your life that confirmed she was ever even real, that your memories were real. 

And much like her, it’s gone in an instant. 

“Clean this up,” is the last thing he slurs before your bedroom door slams shut. 

You sit there, unmoving, for what seems like an eternity. You’re hollow, and yet, the space you inhabit isn’t yours to fill anymore. Succumbing to the numbness has always been easier, but there is an overwhelming bough of raw anguish that lingers in you now. 

It’s moments like these, disappointing in their frequency, where you wonder what you truly are to the man called kin. Burdensome. A lingering reminder of all that he once had and lost. 

 A matter of circumstance. Something disposable. And with that realization, you feel the impending need to get out. 

You wait until you’re certain he’s asleep before you plot your escape. You won’t get far, but luckily, you don’t have to. 

You move on autopilot, numb to anything other than putting as much distance between you and this house. This room, once a sanctuary, now tainted. The tears fall steadily, but no sounds escape you. You wouldn’t provoke him, nor give him the satisfaction of hearing your defeat. 

Echoes of thunder rumble in the distance, a summer storm upon a somber evening. And when the sun sets and the world sleeps, bolts of lightning illuminate your path to refuge. 

You find an old zip-up sweater left out of winter storage, pulling it over the clothes you had no energy to change, and shielding your damp face with the hood. You take the back door; there would be less suspicion in leaving it unlocked. Scattered drops fall from the darkened sky, and the grass tickles your bare feet as they carry you to the only place you know you’ll be welcomed. The only place you seek. 

When he first opens the door, Joel looks confused. The street lights reflect off the panes of his glasses, and you wish you had more time to appreciate the gentle reminisce of sleep in his eyes. But when the sob finally tears through your throat, confusion makes way for concern, and he’s blinking away the fatigue. 

“What’s wrong? What happened?” he demands, pushing the whole of himself through the doorway until he’s standing toe-to-toe with you on the porch. 

You peer up at him, trembling, the picture of desperation. “Can I stay here tonight?” you beg, and there’s little care for how feeble you look. “Please, can I stay?” 

Joel shakes his head, disbelief, looking you over with such uneasiness as if you would shatter before his very eyes. 

“Christ,” he sighs, and maybe you are breaking. Maybe you’re finally falling apart piece by piece, and he is to be the sole witness. “C’mere.” 

But the part of you inside, shriveled and forlorn, still seeks reprieve, and she knows where to find it. His voice is a beacon, a promise. 

The anchor of his arms when you rear forward is the only thing that keeps your body from sinking to the ground. You bury your face into his chest, hands clinging to his shirt, while tears stain his skin. He shushes you, raking his palms up your spine in soothing sweeps, keeping you snug against him. 

“‘Course you can stay. You can always stay.”

There are no questions or explanations necessary. No price to pay for the gift of solace. You take it at face value—much like the last time you cried to him, three days prior, when he told you to never be sorry for feeling the way you felt—and allow him to pull you back into the house. 

You cross the threshold, still sacred, still uncharted, yet wildly more freeing. 

A great weight leaves your shoulders as soon as he shuts the door. 

His face is in your hair when he whispers, and you think the scent of him alone could heal you. 

“Always.”

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Ao3 | Kofi

[birdietrait]

✿ The Home Sweet Home Legacy Challenge ✿

Info ✿

view on google docs

Use the tag #HSHLegacy so I can see your posts!!

If there are any rules that you don’t vibe with, just skip over them!

Some of the rules are centered around gameplay and some are more story-based!

You don’t have to complete aspirations or max out careers if you don’t want to, unless it’s otherwise specified in the generation’s rules!

Play with any lifespan you prefer.

Read one generation ahead to get all of the information you need!

Mods are allowed and encouraged; especially ones that make the game more realistic. I’ve linked a couple mods in some generations that can add to the gameplay! 

If you have the more traits in cas mod, pick whatever extra traits you think would fit your sim!

Rules for the generations under the cut ✿

GENERATION ONE ✿

You were raised in the city by strict parents who pushed you to be the best student in school. Despite your ambitious nature you hated the fact that you had no autonomy or free time. When you became a young adult you packed up your belongings, your pet and your limited funds and you moved to the countryside. Your cottage is rundown and outdated…it’s going to take a lot of work (and money) to make it a home. You quickly realize you might not actually be cut out for this life, but you are too stubborn and proud to give up and move back in with your parents.

Traits: Squeamish, Ambitious, High Maintenance

Aspiration: Country Caretaker OR Freelance Botanist

Career: Start with a part time job and/or odd jobs until your sim ages up into an adult, then settle into a full time job of your choice. To make additional money, you can also sell harvestables from your garden or your farm animals (if you want to go down that route!)

Starting Out: Start in Henford-on-Bagley with your pet in a small, rundown cottage with 2-3 bedrooms. You can use money cheats at this point, but remember: small rundown cottage…don’t use those extra funds for nice appliances!! When your house is done, set your funds to 450.

Rules: 

Your lot must have the ‘simple living’ lot trait

Reach level 5 in: Handiness, Cooking and Gardening

Befriend a few locals

Meet and fall in love with an outdoorsy sim with a large tight knit family 

Spend every holiday with your partner’s family, and have a solid relationship with most (if not all) of them

Have 2 kids

Take a vacation for every sim’s birthday (if you can’t afford it, throw a birthday party on a public lot instead)

Renovate the cottage over time (get new appliances, wallpaper/flooring, etc.)

Optional Rules:

Play with the ‘off the grid’ lot trait

Max out Handiness, Cooking and/or Gardening

Make the sim’s parents and make them have a negative relationship 

GENERATION TWO ✿

You grew up in a small, quiet town. After hearing about your parent’s childhood in the city, you were inspired to give it a try. You say goodbye to your loving family and set out for San Myshuno. You find an apartment and a part time job, then you get a few roommates to help with the bills. When you are faced with an accidental pregnancy, your roommates rally in support.

Traits: Loyal, Creative, Slob

Aspiration: City Native OR Painter Extraordinaire

Career: Max out the Retail part time job before quitting and selling paintings full time

Starting Out: Move into an apartment in San Myshuno with 2-3 roommates (you can use the roommate feature but I recommend actually having them in the household!)

Rules:

Max the painting skill

Have Game Night, or something similar, once a week with your roomies

Have an accidental pregnancy after a one night stand (if your sim can’t become pregnant and the other sim can, move the baby into your household when they’re born!)

Raise your kid as a single parent (with the help of your roomies)

Once your child becomes a teen, move out into your own place (it could be in San Myshuno or another world)

Marry as an elder

Optional Rules: 

As an elder, marry the sim you had a one night stand with (that ultimately resulted in the birth of your child)

Become famous (because of your paintings)

GENERATION THREE ✿

Just as the expression goes, it took a village to raise you. You were a wild, rebellious child with a love for athletics. Even though you were surrounded by love as a kid (not just from your biological family, but from your parent’s roommates) you always wanted to have siblings. You end up marrying one of your childhood best friends and you settle down in a quiet neighborhood.

Traits: Family Oriented, Hot Headed, Athletic

Aspiration: Big Happy Family

Career: Athletic 

Starting Out: Move into a house in a world of your choice with your partner.

Rules:

Max the parenting skill and the athletic skill

Have 4 children

Reach the summit of Mt. Komorebi at some point in your life

Be a hands-on parent: play with your kids, build them a treehouse, throw birthday parties, be as involved as possible in their lives

Go through rough patches with your spouse due to your anger issues

Eventually decide to get a divorce after trying to make it work (or if you have RPO, you can opt for separation instead)

You and your ex-spouse must live on the same lot and continue to raise your kids together

Sleep in your workout shed in the backyard

Optional Rules:

Remarry your ex-spouse

Reach level 5 of the handiness skill

GENERATION FOUR ✿

Although you and your siblings were loved by your parents, the living situation after their divorce was not ideal. Because of that, you vowed to never get married. You head off to university immediately after graduation and start on your path toward success.

Traits: Ambitious, Noncommittal, Genius

Aspiration: Fabulously Wealthy OR Academic

Career: Business OR Politics

Starting Out: Enroll in University and move into a dorm

Rules:

Max the research and debate skill, and the logic skill

Reach the top of your career

Get the best possible grades throughout your life

Have at least two romantic relationships at all times…you are never faithful to one sim

Have two kids with two different partners

(Hesitantly) become official with one of your flings and move in together

When your partner proposes, reject them and have them move out

Go on a post-breakup trip with your kids to Sulani

Rarely discipline your children. In fact, rarely interact with them

Optional Rules:

Never retire

Move at least three times

GENERATION FIVE ✿

Growing up, your parent was pretty distant and you never had a great relationship with them. They were always working, talking about work, or spending time with their significant others. One of your favorite memories of your childhood was your trip to Sulani. You and your sibling decide to move out together and live there permanently. It’s rough living in a new place with limited funds, but the two of you have some creative solutions.

Traits: Loyal, Bro, Kleptomaniac

Aspiration: Party Animal

Career: Criminal

Starting Out: Move into a small house in Sulani with your sibling. 

Rules: 

Max the charisma skill

Reach the top of your career

Earn money from the criminal career, stealing and pickpocketing 

Always maintain a close relationship with your sibling (who can also follow in your criminal footsteps, or work part time / odd jobs instead)

Throw parties regularly and pickpocket the whole time

Have a rivalry with another criminal that turns into love at some point 

Your sibling eventually moves out…and your partner moves in!

Have one child

Have a super tacky over the top wedding

Optional Rules:

 Max the mischief skill

(If you have this mod, you can pickpocket when your sim is younger! If you have Basemental you can also become a dealer to make money. If you have this mod, I recommend using the enemies to lovers interactions!)

And that’s all for now! I’m breaking this up into two parts, so the next five generations will be coming sometime (fairly) soon!

[kyufessions]

sweetheart

synopsis: your annoying neighbor bothers you yet again

pairings: neighbor! eric x afab! reader

genre: smut, 18+

request: “open your mouth” + “why so shy?”

word count: 2.2k

warnings: spitting, oral (f. receiving), making out, playful teasing, pet name (sweet heart), lmk if i missed anything!

a/n: i’m writing this half asleep so it’s not proofread whatsoever,, oopsies

general taglist: @jwnghyuns @eaudenana @soobin-chois @haechansbbg

tbz taglist: @ilovechanhee

Only if everyone knew. Only if everyone knew that the boy next door you always swore annoyed you to your very core since you had first moved in over ten years ago, would meet you in your old tree house that stood between both of your houses at ungodly hours. With what started as another night wanting to get away from one of your family’s parties, turned into heated makeout sessions that led to what anyone would imagine.

Throughout the years, your father had been kind enough to re-do the treehouse. Seeing as you still adored it, he re-vamped it to make it seem more private and to your liking since you were now in your early 20’s. There was even a small makeshift door and small windows with curtains that you often kept closed- it was your favorite place to get away from madness when your room wasn’t cutting it. That was- until one spring night.

You had been in your treehouse reading a new novel you had bought at your local barnes and nobles, your lamp on and one of curtains slightly open to enjoy the slight breeze. Tonight your parents had some guests over from work, their conversations and jazzy background music being too loud for your liking. So you quietly made your way to your treehouse and enjoying your time alone until you heard some rocks being thrown at the door. Groaning, you ignored the disturbance. You knew exactly who it was and you did not want to deal with him tonight. One more rock, two, even three more were thrown. Thats when you stood up and fully opened up the half drawn curtain, looking down to see the annoying boy next door.

He stood there with his devilish grin, wearing a white tank and his baseball varsity jacket from the college he attended. He waved hello as soon as he saw you looking down at him, catching a glimpse of you from the limited lighting. “What do you want eric?” you shouted down, making sure your voice was only able to be heard between you both and not to disrupt what was happening inside your home.

He shrugged, his grin never fading. “I’m bored.” as you rolled your eyes and started to pull back down the curtain, he yelled back out to you. “Wait!”

You shushed him right away, his voice too loud for your liking. As you motion for him to come up the wooden ladder, he does as instructed and you watch as he climbs up halfway before you stop him with your words. “What do you want?” you ask again, annoyance stringing through your voice.

His lips form another shit eating grin. “I’m bored and saw the light on.”

“Find someone else to bother.” you start to close the door but see his hand stop it from closing.

Before you can begin to speak up again, eric decides to first. “Come on, i’ll stay in the corner and let you do your own thing. I won’t bother you. I just don’t want to be in my house right now and am grounded from using my car.”

“Is no an option?” you ask him with a puff. With a swift shake of his head, you open the door fully and allow him inside.

He looks around in amazement at the fairy lights and overall set up, noticing how you plop back on the mini couch you have set up in the corner. His eyes scan over a small drawer with a chipped paint job, old drawings and paintings hanging throughout that’s barely holding on with tape and some nails. There are some obvious new items hanging about and some older ones, and he quietly takes note of that as he walks around to inspect. As he does so, you occasionally glance at him to make sure hes not touching anything he isn’t supposed to. After a little more snooping, he takes a seat on the floor and starts aimlessly scrolling through his phone while you continue to read your novel.

Minutes pass in pure silence- nothing but the occasional hoot from a faraway owl and the distanced sound of jazz music from your home below. That was, until eric opened tiktok. His volume was louder than necessary, his laughter echoing in your ears. You try to continue your reading, trying to be the nice guy. But it felt as if each tiktok he watched just made him laugh harder than the last. You make a mental note of the page you stop on before closing your book and looking over at him, your face blank with irritation.

“If you’re going to be in here, can you at least quiet down? I’m trying to read my book.” your eyes finally meet and he just chuckles, getting up off the floor and walking over towards you.

“What’re you reading anyway?”

You clear your throat before speaking as he inches closer, trying to keep your book close to hide it from him. “None of your business, just please keep it down.”

Eric notices you trying to keep the book from him and as he steps closer he tries reaching for it but failing as you hold it closer to you. He scoffs, trying to reach for it again. “Why so shy about it, huh?” his tone is playful, his eyes beaming with curiosity as he tries to sneak a peek of the cover. You try moving your body to hide it from him but as you’re squirming, he snatches up the book and examines the cover. A small laugh leaves his lips as he notices the explicit cover, your face turning a slight shade of pink as he then reads the first page that started off juicy. When he looks down at you, your cheeks are now red and your eyes wide. “This is the shit you read?”

You stand up and grab the book back from his hands, or at least attempt to before he raises it above your head with a smirk. The height difference between you both wasn’t much, but the fact he was also wearing grey sweats right now didn’t really help the burning sensation growing in the pit of your stomach. To say eric was ugly would be the biggest lie- you actually found him quite attractive. He was just annoying and pestered you often, but he was quite handsome. As his hand was held above you, your book in his hand, you can notice his peaking bicep from under his varsity jacket.

Your silence and wandering eyes failed you as eric took note of this. “Checking me out, huh?”

As you're snapped out of your daze by his words, you jump up and grab the book from his hand successfully and try to move around him to leave but fail. Although your treehouse is spacious, it’s not the biggest either. So now you’re backed into a corner by the hot annoying neighbor who just found out you read smut. Cool. you just sit down on the small couch, puffing in annoyance in an attempt to hide how flustered you’ve become.

“No i’m not.”

His index and middle finger tap the right side of your cheek, a smirk playing on his lips. “Your red cheeks say otherwise, sweetheart.”

Normally you'd swat away his hand, but as you looked in his eyes you felt the air catch in your throat. You felt as if time had stopped due to the close proximity you both were in. the little nickname that normally bothered you made your stomach churn with butterflies, your hands gripping your book tighter.

you tried to hide it once more, trying to keep your tone high and mighty. “don’t call me sweetheart.”

“then try to act like you don’t like it and maybe i will.” eric then squats so he’s now eye level with you, his fingers tracing from your cheek all the way down your neck and to your shoulder ever so gracefully as he does so. your eyes just watch him, unsure of what this feeling is that’s come over you. his head tilts, his face amused by this. “does mommy and daddy know you read smut all up here by yourself?”

eric had always seen you as this goody-two-shoes; mommy and daddy’s most prized possession who always got fantastic grades and went to one of the best colleges the states had to offer. throughout the past ten years, he had always seen you achieve the highest possible grades with honors just to seek your parents approval. never brought over a guy, your nose always buried in a book whether it be for your studies or for fun. he also noticed how your hair never failed to be done perfectly, different colored bows or hair accessories to match your dress or skirt. you always had to present the world with this perfect image of you, and he was just so curious to get to know you deeper than this facade you try to sell everyone you come across.

he watches you shake your head, no words being spoken as you seem choked up. your eyes sparkle under the dimly lit fairy lights as they glare at him, causing him to chuckle lowly yet again. “what if they found out?”

“don’t you fucking dare eric sohn-“

“ah ah,” he slips the book from your hands, placing it beside you. “why don’t we put page one to the test?”

your eyes widen, eyebrows raising. “e-excuse me?”

eric slips off his varsity jacket, tossing it on top of your book. “i skimmed the page over. doesn’t ellen get eaten out, or am i mistaken?” you’re left speechless, yet your face continues to redden all over. eric has thought about this for years but never thought this day would come, only in his wildest of dreams.

eric stands up a little bit to hover over you, lifting your chin and leaning down to rest his forehead against yours as he stares deeply into your eyes. his hair is messy, probably from the baseball practice he had earlier in the day. your lips are inches from his, yet not a word can be spoken as you’re just in shock.

“all you have to do is tell me to stop and i will.” is all eric whispers before placing his lips on yours.

both of your lips move in sync with one another, his fitting perfectly on yours. his hand moves from your shoulder to your cheek, his entire palm cupping it and his fingers placing themselves on the nape of your neck. his touch sends shivers down your spine, his fingertips delicate and careful. his other hand moves to your left thigh, starting to spread it apart from your right one. but you don’t stop him, something within you tells you to allow him. as he bites down on your bottom lip, his hand on your thigh travels to the inner part and stops near your panties. his fingertips graze your folds, the lace material feeling good against his skin.

the sound of your whimper against his lips makes his blood rush, separating his lips from yours. for a few moments he just stares down at you, taking in the view of your wide innocent eyes and puffy pink lips. “fuck you’re so pretty, you know that?”

eric then gets on his knees in front of you, and you watch as he slips off your white silk pleated skirt and stare at your pussy in awe. “all wet for me already, sweetheart?” you bite your lower lip as you watch him, arching your back against the wall at the nickname.

his fingers push the fabric aside, the fingertips grading your folds ever so slightly to take in the beauty for a second. he grins up at you before slipping in one finger, earning a gasp from you. eric starts slow, pumping in and out of you teasingly. he just stares up at you the whole time, taking in the beauty of your reactions. he watches your hand involuntarily reach for his hair, tugging on it once he picks up the pace out of satisfaction. you let out quiet moans as he slips in a second finger, not wanting anyone to potentially hear anything happening up in the treehouse.

after a few moments of his second finger, he puts his mouth to your clit. with this sudden movement you throw your head back, starting to grind against his face. eric takes in every movement you make, enjoying how you use him for your advantage to release. his fingers continue pumping in and out of you at a consistent pace, his tongue occasionally moving in and out of your hole as his lips continue to satisfy you. as your breathing pattern picks up and your legs begin shaking, he knew it was only a few seconds before you climaxed.

once you did, you let out a loud moan and eric took in every juice you offered to him. he begins licking you up, cleaning you up the only way he’s currently able to. he then leans up, grabbing you by the cheek and staring down at your tired face.

“open your mouth, baby.” he murmurs. you do as instructed, allowing him to spit in your mouth. you watch him through half-lidded eyes, smirking as you take in the taste he offers you.

and that’s the night where it all started, your friends with benefits relationship with your annoying neighbor.

[buckybarnesevents]

WE'RE BACK! Hot Bucky Summer returns for its second year in a row with new prompts to get those spicy ideas going!

This event runs from June 1st, 2024 to August, 31, 2024. Each week starting June 1st, we’ve given you a theme (phrase) and some further prompts to spark your imagination. You do not have to strictly include the exact phrase or prompt words in your works - they are meant to encourage you and inspire your overall idea!

📢 RULES

Tag accordingly, please! General blog rules apply to this, please read before participating.

There is no minimum or maximum limit.

We will not be reblogging works outside of the assigned week (ex: if you fill a week 1 prompt but we are already in July, we will not be reglogging), however, these prompts are meant to inspire your muses and you can use them as you desire.

Your works do not have to be inherently M or E rated to participate, they are up to your interpretation.

There is no limit on how many works you create. Even if you only participate in one week, we encourage and welcome all participants!

📢 HOW TO SHARE YOUR WORKS:

Please mention us (@buckybarnesevents) and use the tag #hotbuckysummer2024 in your post for us to reblog your works!

We MUST be able to clearly identify what week/prompt you are using. Again, we will not be reblogging works outside of the assigned week. If we cannot easily tell what prompt you are using when tagged, we will not be reblogging.

You can also tag us again in your masterpost for us to reblog a summary of your works for this event.

⏩ Ao3 Collection: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/HotBuckySummer2024

⏩ Discord: https://discord.gg/P5S3CjM6yU

⏩ Last year's works: https://buckybarnesevents.tumblr.com/eventarchive

For a word version (enabling copy and paste), please see below the cut.

Happy creating!

💙 HR

1 June 1st - June 7th | “Louder, let everyone hear you.” | [Screaming/Noisy Sex | Gangbang | Exhibiotionism]

2 June 8th - June 14th | “What should I call you?” | [Master | Alpha | Pet] 

3 June 15th - June 21st | “Really? Here?!” | [Someone Else’s House | Public Bathroom | Mile High Club]

4 June 22nd - June 28th | FREE WEEK | [Optional prompts: “A” - Anal Hook, Acarophilia,  Age Play]

5 June 29th - July 5th | “We’re…” | [Friends with Benefits | Exes | Enemies to Lovers]

6 July 6th - July 12th | “I won’t be able to stop myself.” | [Sex Pollen | Gone Feral | Fuck or Die] 

7 July 13th - July 19th | “Put this on for me.” | [Blindfolds | Cock Cage | Collars]

8 July 20th - July 26th |  “Maybe this'll help you relax” | [Hot Bath | Another Drink | Cockwarming]

9 July 27th - August 2nd | FREE WEEK | Optional Prompts: “W” - Wax Play, Watersports, WAM (Wet & Messy), Weapon Play]

10 August 3rd - August 9th | “Shhhhhhhhh…” | [Gagged | Voyeurism | Somnophilia]

11 August 10th - August 16th | “You look good like this.”| [Kneeling | Tied Down | Ruined]

12 August 17th - August 23rd | “What should I wear?” | [Lingerie | Chastity Belt | Nothing] 

13 August 24th - August 30th | FREE WEEK | [Optional Prompts: “M” - (Mutual) Masturbation, Masochism, Medical Play]

[animasola86]

🔥 KINKTOBER 2024 MASTERLIST

NOTES: This year, I'll keep it strictly no fandom, but I'll try my hands at teratophilia/monster fucking to keep it interesting! Also I wanna go back to reader-insert to switch it up again.

If you enjoy smut between humans, please take a look at my original fiction and my smut drabbles.

And now, please have a list of my Kinktober 2024 submissions! 🔥

🐇 Down the Rabbit('s) Hole(s)

m!vampire x f!reader (words: 11k)

Prompts: petplay, group sex, abduction, vampires, f/m

Summary: Waking up in a cage, you find yourself face to face with a strange but handsome man, who puts a leash on you and introduces you to his two friends... they seem most delighted about their new pet, you, on the other hand, not so much, but maybe you can be convinced.

Additional Tags: explicit sexual content, dubcon, mind control, cages/collars, size difference, oral sex, anal sex, vaginal sex, biting

Read on here or on AO3

🐺 A Filling Experience

knotting!dildo x f!reader (words: 9.8k)

Prompts: masturbation, sex toys, knotting

Summary: When you ordered this fantasy dildo, you were sure you picked a smaller size, but now that it's here, ready to be tested out, you can't fight its allure for long.

Additional Tags: explicit sexual content, vaginal sex, creampies, breeding, mating, possessed object

Read on here or on AO3

😈 Fork-Tongued Lover

m!demon x f!reader (words: 7.1k)

Prompts: demons, manipulation, anal play

Summary: Your boyfriend is a demon, and while you're not quite sure how that came to be, you are all in now - as he is all into you, literally, using his demonic powers to stretch your body to its limits until he can poke at your soul, eager to devour it (and you) whole.

Additional Tags: explicit sexual content, somnophilia, oral/vaginal/anal sex, cockwarming, deepthroating, deep penetration, overstimulation

Read on here or on AO3

🦑 A Special Little Toy

sentient!squid x f!reader (words: 1.2k)

Prompts: tentacles

Summary: One month ago, you found a little creature while skinny-dipping (or maybe it found you?). You took it in (quite literally) as your little pet, and this is how you nurture it.

Additional tags: explicit sexual content, assisted masturbation, double penetration, sentient sex toy, mirror sex, "object" insertion

Read on here

🎃 A Night to Remember (tumblr/AO3)

misc!monsters x f!reader (words: 1.5k)

Choose your own adventure smut series (part 1 of 6)! Can be read in succession or by choosing one of three options!

Summary: You are invited to a Halloween party in a mysterious house, promising a night full of surprises. Are you ready for this adventure?

First option (part 2 of 6)

👻 A Knife to Remember (tumblr/AO3)

ghostface x f!reader (words: 3.8k)

Prompts: masks/costumes, knife kink/knife play, anonymous sex

Second option (part 3 of 6)

🟩 A Shot to Remember (tumblr/AO3)

slime x f!reader (words: 2.8k)

Prompts: slime, tentacles, aphrodisiacs, triple penetration

Third option (part 4 of 6)

🐺 A Knot to Remember (tumblr/AO3)

m!werewolf x f!reader (words: 7.6k)

Prompts: werewolves, knotting, breeding

(part 5 of 6)

🦇 Fangs to Remember (tumblr/AO3)

m!vampires x f!reader (words: 3.6k)

Prompts: vampires, spitroasting, noncon, blood drinking

(part 6 of 6)

🐻 A Hug to Remember (tumblr/AO3)

m!shapeshifter x f!reader (words: 7.1k)

Prompts: aftercare, creampies, cockwarming

BONUS 1

🏚️ The House (tumblr/AO3)

misc!monsters x f!reader (words: 2.7k)

BONUS 2

🫦 The Marking (tumblr/AO3)

m!werewolf x f!reader (words: ?k)

MASTERLIST // AO3 // ORIGINAL WORKS

[spiceywawa]

@boolger <-

I couldn't help myself and had to try doing this shite again and write my little idea inspired heavily? by their fic.

Kitty♡

Current -> Next

John price moved from the city and bought a farm with all the works. Cows, pigs, chickens, etc. He previously considered getting a hybrid kitten along his other hybrids but never did due to living deep in the city with not a lot of room. After his abrupt retirement, John decided why not to help make the farming/food industry just a little better.

He decided to start his farm, and funny enough, the farm came with its own kitty hybrid. A beautiful stone Grey short haired kitty that took care of rodents and smaller predators. Kitty would laze wherever they pleased and previously had the freedom to come and go around the property and house as they saw fit.

John never minded them, and on the listing for the farm, the hybrid was in the description as a poor kitty that was left behind. It took quite a bit of time to get the skittish kitty used to him and even let him close enough to smell him. It's not entirely surprising the cautious and skeptical looks kitty gives him because while their owner left kitty, and the seller forgot to mention the many working hybrid dogs they owned went with them Abandoning poor kitty, leaving them all alone with not one to cuddle with at night.

Sweet farm kitty hybrid only met John price at first, but little did they know John had his own three dog hybrids. All retired from military after many years of admirable service. Before John thought you were ready to meet his three boys, he set up your own room and safe spots around the giant farmhouse. Giving you your own designated space when you decided to stay in the house with him. Of course, at some point, when john gently lured you into your new room, it was somewhat of a shit show. You went as far as deciding using the window to the roof to come in, and out of the house was a better option than using the actual doors.

You eventually settled and decided the room was better than the hay loft and tried out being a couch potato. When you quietly and cautiously joined John on the new couch for the first time, he immediately froze to not deter you from approaching him. He watched you out of his peripheral lay next to him, resting your head on his thigh. Only when you relaxed and began quietly purring did he attempt to stroke your head, petting your fuzzy ears watching them flick at his gentle touch. After that encounter and many positive moments, john decided it was time to bring the boys home for good.

The boys often dog piled in John's room, so separate rooms for them were pretty much unnecessary unless they asked for it. They had freedom to roam and wouldnt be allowed in your room without permission, he doubted you would so he would make sure the boys knew if was off limits until otherwise said. But considering they had all the space they needed and john has the biggest room and bathroom amenities in the house, the boys had their own section of the room, including a corner cubby with their stuff and combined beds.

Of course, after being out of a strict military environment for so long the moment the boys arrived when they got a whiff of your scent, johnny and gaz scattered trying to find you and simon ended up chasing after johnny trying to get him to quit it. Gaz beat johnny to the punch, chasing you up above the fridge on top of the cabinets. He was leaning against the fridge, wagging his tail sniffing the air, trying to get closer to you, curiosity and excitement emanating from him. When johnny heard the commotion, he wriggled away from simons grip toward gaz. John yelled stop, and all his hybrids looked at him.

You were less amused than the three behemoths before you. Johnny and gaz both whined, saying they only wanted to meet their new friend, and simon was glaring at the two having more self-control of his instincts and curiosity. John cringed at the poor first introduction. The low growl in your throat brought everyone's attention back to you. John shooed the three away simon, grabbing the two by their harnesses being the most dominant out of the three.

You glared at John as he began trying to coax you in getting down. "It's alright, my pretty girl. You're ok. Those two aren't gonna get ya, I promise." He coos at you. In John's defense, he told the three to behave simon was indifferent, but gaz and johnny were the ones he was worried about. You watch him with your ears pinned down and tail flicking rapidly in annoyance as he is trying to get you down with treats and your favorite toy your, very first toy ever. But you don't budge for a solid 20 minutes. "Come on, sweet kitty, there are all a bunch of big ol teddy bears they aren't gonna hurt ya." He says to you, running his finger down the bridge of your nose as you won't let him pet you.

Johnny and Gaz are sitting a few feet away patiently waiting for you to come down and allow them to scent you and say hello, their tails swishing excitedly behind them. They are all definitely German Shepard or a mix of one you can see that much, and they are all ridiculously large compared to you.

Simon is standing next to John, watching you with a curious expression. You eye him, taking in his scared face and equally battered fuzzy ears nestles in blond hair. Much to everyone's surprise, simon reaches up and grabs you gently, taking you off the fridge and into his big arms. You freeze from shock as simon settles you against his chest, holding you with one arm. You latch onto him to prevent yourself from falling, watching his face suspiciously.

Simon traces the scars on your face and arms from fending of other critters around the farm. "That's simon Kitty." John says, trying not to laugh as your frozen form clutches to simon. You frown as johnny and Gaz laugh, simons low chuckle vibrating through you. "You're a stubborn little thing." Simon says as he sits down next to the other two, positioning you in his lap, keeping a protective distance from gaz and johnny.

His tail swishes behind him as you let him hold you, unsure if you're gonna bolt or stay. You settle to johns surprise, holding onto simons arm, watching the other two scoot closer. You did miss your pack mates, so you tolerated the curiosity for a bit unsure if this was even gonna be permanent. Simon watches gaz close as he scents you first, seeing as he did find you first. He sniffs for a bit, his nose gently bumping your chin as he sniffs higherup your neck, simon lets out a low growl, telling gaz that's enough. Johnny takes that as his cue that it's his turn and bounds in face first into your neck. Simon reaches for johnny, pulling him away. "Careful with the lil thing, johnny. Don't wanna break em do you?" He shakes his head rapidly tail going a mile a minute. John chimes in watching this interaction unfold. "Gentle boys." He says, watching your face for any discomfort.

The only feeling you have is confusion. Have they never seen a cat hybrid before? And why are you letting them so close so quickly?

Simon lets Johnny's scruff go, and he gently smells you for a bit. Then simon tells them you're done, and it's his turn. He breathes in your scent, enjoying the sweet, subtle scent holding you closer

You sigh, giving up, seeing as much simon claimed you technically it seems they all did, and this is your life now. It doesn't seem so bad, really, you could get used to this.

[jayjj7]

chapter 42. tip toe

prev. | next | masterlist

a/n: THANK YOU FOR 600 FOLLOWERS OMG???

as much as you tried convincing yourself and your friends that you were over chaewon, you longed for her presence as the days passed. anyone would understand chaewons anger, but only chaewon would stay not admit her wrongs. as much as you deserved an apology from her, you couldn’t handle not speaking, so apologizing first seemed like the only option at this point.

you had to gain confidence in yourself before leaving the house; petting your dog goodbye, flowers in hand and a sad excuse of home made cookies you made the night before. you remember the moment it all went wrong:

“lily can you please crack the eggs for me?” you said as you washed a pan

“yeah how many?” lily replied, cracking eggs faster than you ever could

“i think the box said 3?”

“oh” lily stops in her tracks as the yolk of the 5th eggs falls into the batter

you could feel your stomach turn as you stepped outside, seeing chaewons house grow with each step you took. the familiar feeling of nervousness striking back into you when you first visited her. you could still see parts of broken vases on the floor of her porch, you still can’t wrap your head around the fact your small dog caused this much destruction. you clear your throat and wipe the slight sensation of tears you felt on your water line. but before you could knock on the door, chaewon opens.

you two are left looking at each other, in shock you take a step back, dismissing the fact of the limited space between you two. you can tell chaewon considered closing the door on you based on the door slightly moving but she held back, for the better.

“oh hey? can i help you?” chaewon clears her throat.

“oh no, well i just got you these flowers as a way of saying sorry” you hand chaewon the flowers she could keep inside and motion to some of the potted plants you had placed on the ground.

“oh thank you, i was just about to go knock on your door” she looks down at the flowers.

an uncomfortable silence fills the space between. you can’t help but wonder when she will give you the stuff in her hands.

“yn i’m sorry for lashing out on you, i um-“

“no no i totally get it, i would be mad too-“

“no what i did was wrong! you didn’t deserve all that- here!” chaewon sets aside the stuff she had in her arms and hands you a small basket with a note on top.

“read the note first” she looks to the side to appear nonchalant.

you began reading but couldn’t focus over chaewons speaking:

“i’m not the best with apologies so that’s why it took me so long but i really missed you and i can promise you this won’t happen again”

looking up from reading you’re met with an embarrassed looking chaewon in front of you.

“can you forgive me?”

taglist: [ @haerinsloverr @mym1na @greenniee @gayforalll @r4cjh @masuowo @herlv3r @bristadc @hwmhyun @cine-cult @technicallyimportantsweets @blue4hour @modanisgf @sunshinez4 @pandafuriosa60 @idkwhatim-doinghere101 @lovepjohootoa @imahallucination11 @frenchyypoo @seunghancore @airicestala @ssamchu @multiliker @mushroom-main @wlauvers4ever @addorations @inosfavgf @yeetaberry127 @emotionallyrin @sixflame438 @gtfoiydlyj @xszn]

[actuallysaiyan]

Run Rabbit Run(All Might x Fem!Reader)

warnings: primal kink, yandere themes, slight violence, use of a safe word, blood, pet names(bunny, little one), suggestive/smutty themes, chasing word count: 1.1k pairings: All Might/Toshinori Yagi x Fem!Reader summary: you used to see him as a hero, now that he's chasing after you...how can you see him in that same light? the minute he says the safe word, it's all over. dividers by @adornedwithlight

“You’ve got nowhere left to run, little bunny.” His voice is booming, even when he’s trying to be quiet.

You tremble as you try to hide from him. You have no idea how he managed to get inside the house anyway. The darkness of the shadows around his eyes only seems to make the glow of his piercing blue eyes more intense. 

“Don’t hide from your hero, little bunny.”

You look around for an escape. The man was hulking in size. There was no way you could fight your way out of this one, even if you tried to use your quirk. There’s few options you have now. You only have the idea to try and run into the kitchen.

With those thoughts, you make a mad dash for the doorway into the kitchen. Before you can even make it past the doorway, you feel yourself being hoisted into the air. You gasp as All Might slams you into the wall. He’s smirking as he pins you there.

“Awhh did you really think you could get away from me? Hahaha! No, I’m here now and I’ll make everything all better.”

His kiss is bruising. You want to push him off. Your brain is screaming at you to just push him off, throw yourself to the ground and crawl away. But there’s a need pooling in your tummy and you already feel shameful for even thinking about how it might feel for him to fuck you.

“I can practically hear your heart racing, little bunny.” He grunts as he pulls away from the kiss. “Do I excite you this much?”

“N-no!”

You manage to push yourself off of him; just a moment of weakness for him. You crawl away the minute your ass hits the ground. The way he’s just towering over you, his muscles bulging in his costume.

In a moment of panic, you throw open the door to the basement and practically shove your way down there. You know you’ll end up in bruises, but it’ll be worth it when you finally get away from this dangerous man.

It used to be when you thought of All Might, your mind would be filled with visions with him saving people and heroic acts. But now, you know how far his love can go. You know how much he can take it past the limit.

“Hahaha! Did you really think you could hide?”

His steps are approaching you. The minute he’s in front of you, he picks you up in his arms. You almost feel at ease, if it weren’t for the fact that he was going to make you his and only his. He had his sights set on you for so long, and now he was going to show you how you belonged to only him.

All Might pulls you into another bruising kiss. His tongue penetrates your lips, making you moan again. He keeps thinking that if you hate this so much and if you’re so afraid of him, you’re showing it in such a funny way. He carries you up the stairs, closing the door with his foot.

“You can never run and hide forever, little one. I’ll always know where to find you.”

You feel your heart beginning to race even more. You feel so small in his arms. You’d always feel that way, considering just how strong he is. He grins as he notices the fear in your arms. As he makes his way upstairs towards your bedroom, you notice how he’s having a hard time not just taking you up against the wall.

“Do you have any idea how much you drive me insane, little one?” He asks, his voice raspy.

You shake your head. “D-don’t mean to.”

He presses his body up against yours as he keeps you pinned to the wall. You feel his erection grinding against you as he begins to nip at the tender flesh of your neck. You can’t help but moan as his teeth graze against your throat.

Within seconds, you’re being thrown onto the bed in your own bedroom. Your eyes widen when you see him in the doorway. Your biggest fears have come true. He marches into the bedroom, slamming the door closed. You watch as he winces for a moment, but then he turns his attention to you.

The bed creaks under his weight. There’s a low growl that comes from him as he leans in to kiss you once more. Then your wrists are pinned above your head, before he growls in your ear.

“Looks like your trapped, little bunny,”

When you look up at him again, you notice something is different. There’s an uncertainty written all over his face. Your heart aches for him. He’s about to lean in again but then you hear him say one word.

“D-donut!”

Your eyes widen when you hear the word tumbling from his lips. The big man on top of you lets go of your wrists. You notice he’s almost about to cry. You get up on your knees and you crawl over to him.

“Toshi, are you okay?” You ask, making sure not to touch him just yet. He can get overwhelmed sometimes.

He nods his head, sniffling just a bit as a few tears roll down his cheeks. “Y-yeah, I just got way too into this. I was scared I was going to really hurt you.”

You notice he’s shaking. This big man is shaking because he got too much into the roleplay you were doing. He then looks at you and he opens his arms.

“C-can you just hold me right now?”

You nod and rush over, nuzzling your face in his chest. He’s gentle with his touches as he wraps his arms around you. You hum softly as he pulls you in even closer. Suddenly, there’s steam as he shifts back into his true form. He hiccups and you hear him coughing.

You reach for the tissues on the bedside table, wiping up the blood coming from his mouth. He blushes as you take good care of him. Then you help him lay down on the bed, pulling the blankets up over him. Then you slide under the covers with him.

As you rest your head on his chest, he starts to feel better. He had been the one to bring up the idea of this roleplay, but something about it just made him even more uneasy. He doesn’t blame you for anything. 

“Toshi, I love you. I’m never scared of you.”

His heart swells with love. He wraps his arms around you even more, pulling you as close as he can. He presses soft kisses to the top of your head.

“I love you too. Thank you for being here with me.”

You look up at him and smile. “Of course.”

You play with his hair, talking to him about mundane things about your day. The way you make him feel at ease without difficulty is so beautiful. He’ll never be ungrateful for having you in his life.

And when you both drift off, you know that things will be okay once more…

reblogs and comments always appreciated!

©actuallysaiyan 2024-- do not repost on other platforms, copy, translate or edit my works!

[petalruesimblr]

Pennywise Apartments

Sim File Share

Welcome to Pennywise Apartments – where space is limited but savings are limitless! Nestled in a refurbished relic of yesteryear, our budget-friendly apartments offer just enough room for two with charm that stretches every Simoleon. With its inviting atmosphere and convenient location, we provide a perfect retreat for those seeking a budget-friendly living environment. It's old meets gold – because who needs extra space when you have character?

Lot Size: 20x20 Lot Type: Residential Store Content: None CC Used: None File Type: Package Min. Required Game Version: 1.42 Packs Needed: The Sims 3, Seasons, Generations, Pets (fence, door, buydebug object), Late Night (floor), Ambitions (door)

Hi all! This house has been in my drafts for a while now. Originally, it was supposed to look like a rundown building for a city but I accidentally discovered a color that I liked so I decided to keep the exterior look instead.

This is a starter apartment with three fully furnished units priced in the range of §15,000 to §16,000. It’s not much but I hope you all like it.

Click on the ’Keep Reading’ below for more information and pictures on this lot.

First Apartment:

Price Furnished: 15,859 Price Unfurnished: 1,526

Second Apartment:

Price Furnished: 15,962 Price Unfurnished: 1,414

Third Apartment:

Price Furnished: 15,581 Price Unfurnished: 1,652

The second and third units are a bit tight compared to the first one, especially if there are two Sims but the routing was fine during testing.

📣Please note that there are Hidden Room Markers placed on the second and third apartments thus once you place the lot in your game, the available room for purchase will be the first apartment. I have also set the second and third apartment doors to NPC so any homeless/service Sims will use those to ’go home’.

If you prefer the second or third apartments, please enable “testingcheatsenabled true”, “RestrictBuildBuyInBuildings Off” and “buydebug on” after to remove the Hidden Room Markers and place it to the other room you will not be using. Don’t forget to remove the NPC Door tag by holding CTRL + SHIFT and click on the door to select the “Unmake NPC Door” option.

Let me know if you experience any problems on your end!

[anxiously-sidequesting]

REBLOGGING FOR THIS WONDERFUL ADDITION

[ishimondoevents]

Here are the prompts. Thank you to everyone who contributed ideas to this! The list will be written down below the cut with some ideas for those who want a little elaboration, a little help brainstorming, or simply understand how loosely prompts can be interperted!

Please make sure to check out the RULES AND F.A.Q. so we can have a smooth week.

July 14th: Family / Dates

July 15th: Promise / Sickness

July 16th: Roleswap / Seasons

July 17th: Competition / Future

July 18th: Talentswap / Gifts

July 19th: Confessions / Soulmates

July 20th: Free Day*

* For the Free Day, you are free to use a prompt that you hadn't used on one of the previous days if you would prefer a specific prompt to follow.

Remember— these are just ideas to help with brainstorming, you are not limited to interpreting the prompts in just these ways. 

Family: You could choose to interpret this as being in relation family members (canon or head cannoned) for a scenario like meeting the in-laws; or them building one of their own (with pets, fan kids, v3 kid AUs, etc). Another angle could be a reflection on their own childhoods, with a focus on their family life/dynamics to tie it back to the prompt.

Dates: Quite a few options to go with, off the top of my head: first dates, blind dates, double/group date, fake dating, or even a study date lol. This could also be interpreted in the sense of important dates like birthdays, anniversary, etc.

Promise: This one might be a tad bit easier on the writers since all you'd need to really do to meet the prompt is throw in one 'promise between men', but you can definetly get creative with it. You could go a more canon route of 'I'll build your house bro' or 'We'll get out of the killing game alive' to anything else you could think of, big or small— perhaps even broken promises (as serious or silly as you'd like, e.g. 'you promised you'd stop speeding')

Sickness: Just a few ideas besides a literal cold— lovesickness (figurative or more literal like a hanahaki AU), a despair disease scenario, or a mental health day.

Roleswap: Anything that generally swaps the canon role would apply here. So Protagonist AUs, Mastermind AU, Survivor/Future Foundation AUs would all be applicable here. Remnants of Despair AUs may also apply, see the elaboration given in the Talentswap section.

Seasons: Take this as liberally as you'd like. Focus on one season or all; focus on seasonal activities like going to the beach, a seasonal school vacation; or a seasonal holiday/festival, just to offer a few different ways you could try and meet this prompt. 

Competition: With how competitive these two are, hopefully this won't end being too restrictive. Be this between the two of them, one rooting for the other for sports/other extracurricular activities, or a double date scenario with someone as competitively spirited. You could also stick to more canon moments for reference like the Sauna Scene or the race between Mondo and Daiya.

Future: You could do something with Futuristic themes like cyborgs/androids/etc. Or more broadly approach the prompt with discussions of the future (v3 talentplan style), or in settings where they're older (be that 30 or 80, however you wish to interpert it). 

Talentswaps: The difference from the roleswap Is that the former implies the talent isn't changed, just the role within the story. A talentswap may change several factors, but most notably the talent. So whether you're swapping just the talents between the THH cast or swapping game premises as well (e.g. v3 au with SHSL Inventor Oowada), all of that would be better suited here. Remnants of Despair AUs could go here if it's a talent swap that includes SDR2's general premise, but if the talents were to remain the same AND the concept to be (for example) that Junko chose Class 78 over 77 to brainwash, then that could fall under a Roleswap instead.

Gifts: This should hopefully be easier to achieve as a prompt, but this could be around any kind of celebration involving gifting (birthdays, holidays, etc.), or just a general occasion of wanting to get a gift. Maybe focusing on having difficulty with finding a present, etc.

Confessions: This could be anything from a love confession, or a completely innocuous thing like— oops, I’m the asshole that has been in your parking spot bc I’m dyslexic and thought it was mine meet cute(?). Perhaps it could be one of them receiving a love confession and the reaction around it.

Soulmates: Since I know there are quite a few ideas people have come up with over the years for soulmate AUs, I think this one should also not be too difficult (hopefully).

Here are four lists I got just from googling, should you need a few ideas about what you might do: 

https://www.tumblr.com/r-evolve-art/144380748003/

https://www.tumblr.com/ausforsoulmates/190255248494/

https://www.tumblr.com/thegeminisage/94680598838/

https://www.tumblr.com/creativepromptsforwriting/647547186533531648/

You could also go more straightforward with red string of fate concepts for soulmates as well, or just the idea of soulmates, not necessarily a soulmate AU if none speak to you!

[velleire]

Homestead Showcase

What I got from the Homestead showcase live that happened this afternoon at 12PM PT under the cut! If you don't want spoilers, shoo shoo :)

Edit: Link of the video is up on the Twitch: https://www.twitch.tv/videos/2214041991

This is what I got from the live (sorry for english in advance). If I got anything incorrectly feel free to correct me, my mind goes places easily:

- The Homestead is huge. It's a lot of space. It's like a farm.

30 characters limit to show in the instance (10 of each armor weight).

600 is the new cap of Mastery Points (or at least, it was the number the devs had).

Automatic gathering in one click. There's a chest with a little leaf icon on it to do this. Your party can also use it.

Refined Homestead Materials (used to craft decorations): 300 per week but I guess you can buy an item to refresh it. They talked a lot about how to acquire these but I zoned out lol sorry sorry

You can easily equip different glyphs (the ones you own) for the gathering.

New decorations will be released for annual events (such as Mad King decorations).

You can pet your mounts (important).

They walked around showing each section of the homestead. There's a place for crafting (for the new crafting profession), the stable with your mounts, a river to the skiff, the house, a big area outside, etc. It's very pretty.

You can decorate the mine. All mining nodes are there.

There's an x-ray option to see all your decorations and spot them easily.

I lost it, but someone mentioned in chat M.O.X is in the house (if you have it unlocked).

3 modes in decoration mode: place, modify and erase.

There's a gizmo to move the stuff around. The dev put a carpet floating in the air.They didn't leave it there, so I don't know what would have happened. They also moved stuff upside-down. The carpet could be scaled to be bigger. (This all seems easy and friendly.)

The Wayfinder Table that comes with the expansion (the deluxe ver. I guess) has 4 options of things to put above it (example: board game, war planning, etc. One of these versions had a mini Rytlock).

Some chairs won't be sit-able depending on how you resize them.

There's a flying mode that turns you into a bee so you can fly around. The dev put some trees around while in this mode, so we can decorate the outside as a bee.

There's a decoration skill to copy the last size and position of an item so it's easy to duplicate it if needed.

You can zoom out a lot as a bee to see your decorations from a distance.

You can make sitting spots in random objects. In the live, the dev put a sit position above a rock for the character to sit on (don't know how they called it… mixing a chair and a rock?? I missed it.)

They set a picnic table with food on it. They could move the food around and also resize it.

You can make your alts follow you. More than one. The dev took at least five with them.

There's Day and Night cycles like in the game but you can set the time of the day inside your instance by talking to a kodan NPC.

[penvisions]

the melting point {chapter 18}

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Baker! Reader (exEMT! Reader)

Summary: Time moves and so does your world.

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: references to canon typical violence, gun violence, reference to previous injuries, recovery, physical therapy, therapy, anxiety, medical jargon, description of injuries (not detailed), mention of surgical scarring, reader has limited mobility, reader uses a walker, reader uses a wheelchair, reader uses a cane, panic, depression, anxiety, reader is self-conscious in her body, a lot of emotions, body modification, reader gets some, pet names, a lot of emotions! reader has described as having specific color hair and tattoos

A/N: it's not the best, but it's a good step toward the end of this lovely little series. happy frankie friday, y'all!

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi

Frankie was pacing, the envelope opened, and the contents laid out.

Aggravated assault.

Child Services have been contacted.

Will was the first to be called, in order to get an attorney through the VA.

Pope was the second, because he had been witness to the incident in question.

A call interrupted the list of immediate people who needed to be reached out to. Child Services calling to confirm Frankie’s residence and let him know an officer would be conducting a home visit in the following days. Frankie’s mother, Isabella, had said she would stay the night beforehand, to ensure the house was in order and to talk to the officer on her son’s behalf before whatever appointment was set. And that she would be staying that night to help work through anything needing her help.

Benny was called third, because he had been there when Frankie had begun to deal with his anger issues and attended meetings with him where he spoke about it early in his recovery. To vouch that the man had never been violent outside of small outbursts and never in front of his child or in public.

Morgan was fourth, to question of she knew the man Pope had claimed frequented the bar across from Brass Knuckles.

It…it was a lot on top of an already overwhelming situation.

“Frankie?” You called as you tried to inch the feet of your walker as close to the threshold of the back door. The panel of the sliding door had been closed but the man wasn’t in any of the other places you had looked after waking from your slumber. It was the next day, a hectic one to be sure as more paperwork and things needed to be in order. His mother and daughter were upstairs, busy with the child’s few hours’ worth of homework to ensure she stayed on point for school when she returned after the winter break. The first half of the school year being done in the comfort of her own home, to help her handle the aftermath of what had happened.

That had been a conversation you hadn’t been a part of, something Frankie had admitted to you. The decision needing to be made while you had still been unconscious and in the hospital. Between his parents and his friends, trying their best to gauge the outcome of each option and what was best for Lex.

The clatter of glass falling and cracking was loud, spiking your heart in your chest. You called out for him again, worry dripping from you.

“I’m okay, querida! Just trying to fix this sun catcher and I accidently dropped it.”

“Is it okay?”

“…no.” His sheepish admission came from around the corner of the house.

“Fransisco!”

“It was an accident!” He appeared from where he had to have been messing with the charm hanging from a tree in the yard, bare feet hushing across the grass before they met the wooden stairs of the deck. He couldn’t hide the wide smile taking over his lips, delighting in the sight of you trying to hide your laughter.

“So…”

“Alright, alright, lemme get changed.”

“You didn’t even give me the chance to say anything yet.”

“That’s your ‘I have errands’ voice, sweet girl. Heard it enough times when we were trying to plan our first date.”

“Hey, I don’t wanna hear that. You essentially got me with that one date, so-“

“That’s not-“ His mind tried to supply him with other instances but it was the only one that was official.

“We hung out enough for you to fall hopelessly in love with me!”

“But not on official dates!” You giggled, feeling heat creep up your neck from your chest at the words.

“Then lemme take you out to one tomorrow, if you’re feeling up to it.” He wrapped an arm around your waist, hand splaying across your lower back.

“But…child services is coming tomorrow, we’ve got to focus on that…”

“We’ll both need to relax after that, I promise it’s okay.”

“Frankie…did,” You pulled back a little to gaze into the amber of his eyes lit up by the morning sun. “Did you really attack him?”

His forehead rested against yours, his eyes clenching shut and hiding them from your searching gaze.

“Yes. I did. Pope and I went down to the station to hear his statement and he was…he was saying all kinds of awful things about you and Lex and I just snapped.���

A hand to the back of his neck and your face pressed to his chest helped to calm him down. Shifting together, he helped you back into the house and into a new set of clothes to leave the house.

The shop was bustling, a line out the door and your dedicated employees working hard to fulfill each customer’s needs. Pride swelled up, a large smile pulling at your lips as you moved past everyone and toward the back. It had been easier to come in through the front door than deal with the two steps up into the back of the building. You could hear footsteps up above, signaling that Taylor was moving about.

He must be on break, running the shop for you while you recovered no doubt taking a lot out of him. It wasn’t his profession of choice but he knew enough to help out where it was needed. You really hadn’t wanted to shut down the shop for months on end, especially after the nearly two it had taken you to wake up and get clearance from the hospital to leave.

Business was booming, the city showing an outpouring of love and support for you in the wake of what had happened. You were grateful, even if it felt like you were doing something bad sneaking in to steal some supplies for tonight’s family dinner.

Alexia had wanted to decorate cupcakes, something she mentioned a few days ago as you both fell asleep in the middle of the day with a cartoon movie on the tv, her anti-anxiety medication and your pain management ones getting the better of you two as Frankie was out in the garage tuning up the truck.

Will and Benny had stopped by for lunch, the gym being run by the staff allowed for the two of them to run around town and organize the fight night events that had been delayed a bit because of the shooting. They were debating the pros and cons of hiring a food truck for the event or getting a caterer to set up a spread in the front of the gym.

“I can always just cook for you?” You suggested as you carefully shuffled up from your seat on the couch, wanting a cup of tea to take the next dose of medication. “That was you don’t lose those earning or have to budget for it in the first place.”

The brothers shared a look behind your back, unsure of how to react. You were never one to offer something if you didn’t feel like you could handle it. But cooking for an anticipated crowd of over a hundred people would have you on your feet for quite a while. And while you were moving around with a little more ease, you were still keeping your walker close by. Frankie insisting on a wheelchair for the store and longer trips from the house.

A clatter had them both on their feet in a heartbeat, moving toward the kitchen to see you straining to reach the kettle on the second shelf of a cabinet. You had one hand on the counter and the other was stretched up, causing the fabric of your shirt to ride up. The shining skin of the scars from your surgery caught their eyes and they quickly jumped in to help. Will’s front was warm against your back as he gently swatted your hand away to get the kettle for you. His arms came around as he lowered it to the counter. Gasping at the flare of desire from the feel of a strong body against you, you froze.

“You okay, mante? You didn’t hurt yourself did you?”

“N-no, everything’s fine.”

“Honey, you’re burning up,” Will placed a hand on the back of your neck, gauging your temperature as best he could. Your head hung between your shoulders, both palms flat on the counter’s surface. When he shifted to reach for the med kit, he brushed impossibly closer, and you let out a charged sound that tapered off into breathy sigh.

Everyone froze.

“Mante?”

“Just, drop it.” You were shuffling away, prying yourself from the small space between Will’s body and the counter.

“Honey, you know you can talk to us.”

“No, it’s embarrassing. Frankie would be…mortified if I talked to you.” You tried to fight the heat rising to your face, clothing too tight all of a sudden, the air in the kitchen stifling.

“He’s not touching you, is he?” Will asked softy, voice holding sincerity. He’s seen this type of rift open up between people and couples in recovery. He had multiple pamphlets and brochures for those who approached him asking for help. He was the sole source of information, of course he knew what was going on. But he mentally berated himself for not seeing the signs of it sooner.

“He wouldn’t like me talking about it…with you.”

“That doesn’t matter, do you need to talk about it?”

“I have- a little, with Morgan but…I don’t even know what’s going on.”

“He’s probably just worried about hurting you, Mante.”

“But he is, hurting me. I-I don’t even really care all that stuff right now, I’m too tired and sore all the time but…it would be nice to know he still wanted me like that.”

“Does he help you change?”

“Y-yeah, yes.”

“Does he help you bathe?”

“He asked me not to unless he’s in the house.”

“Sweetheart, he’s probably worried about pushing you. I mean, not to be too crass, but your hips are kinda important for sex.”

You huffed a laugh, panic and anxiety waning at the guy’s well-meaning intentions.

“Isabella and I haven’t either…since it happened.” Will confessed with an open demeaner, not wanting you to think it was just you or just Frankie. That it was a normal response to traumatic events, to reassure you. And of course, you would know but being so weighted down with everything he also knew how hard it was to think rationally about it all. “It’s normal, nothing it wrong with you, okay?”

The officer regarded you curiously. Eyes downturned to the ring on your left hand.

“Now, we have no mention of you on any legal paperwork regarding Mr. Morales. And your official address is listed as the place of your business, is that correct?”

“Yes, ma’am, that’s correct.”

“You were the recent victim in the shooting that occurred on….” The date of the last summer farmer’s market was rattled off. “Where you were the one to run to the aid of the child in question, is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“Now, can either of you tell me why Mr. Morales wasn’t within range to do so himself?”

“Excuse me?”

“Mr. Morales, please, let’s all keep calm here. It’s a simple question.”

“Does allowing his daughter to go off with one of his friends during an open market make him a bad father? Because that’s what your question seems to be getting at.”

“Ma’am, please. It’s a routine question.”

“I was yards away from her when the shooter decided to open fire in a public space.”

“And yet, you didn’t run to her aid.”

“I did, the second the first shot went off and the crowd began to panic, I was looking for her.”

“So you didn’t have eyes on her.” The officer made a note on the file open in her lap. You bristled at the uncaring demeanor, unable to hold your tongue as she talked at you and Frankie instead of with you.

“I would like to speak to the child in question.”

“That can wait a minute, excuse me.” You leveled her with a focused look, not willing to roll over and show your stomach to this woman who was supposed to be conducting an interview. But instead she was taking everything and twisting it to the narrative she was trying to depict in her notes. “Frankie had eyes on her. He always knows who she’s with, where they’re going, for how long and ensures he’s the one dropping off and picking up or it’s someone he trusts with his daughter. He is a good father. I don’t think the focus here should be whether or not he reacted fast enough to a shooter scenario but the fact that there was a shooter scenario that you are trying to twist in your favor.”

“I am merely asking routine questions, the shooting response is only one of the areas in which I am concerned. The other would be your sudden presence in this house. How it affects the child in question.”

“You’re not even using her name. Her name is Alexia. She is a very real, very traumatized child who doesn’t need anything else upsetting her. I get that you may not understand the dynamic Frankie has with his friends and how they care for his daughter as if she was their own. Or how I’m “affecting” her presence by being in her home that previously only contained her and her father. But you’re going to sit there and ask us questions and listen to what we have to say.”

“What is your relationship with the child?”

“I’m her-“

“She’s my fiancé, she intends to sign the guardianship papers to share legal responsibility with me.”

“And…is it because you think it’s too much to handle on your own?” The officer looked less tense, at least. Nodding her head along as she looked something over in her file. “It states here you never reached out for resources that are available to you. Can I ask why that is?”

“No, ma’am. It’s because she asked me to. We have a beautiful bond and she wanted to make it a little more tangible and it was a way for Alexia to feel included once the wedding rolls around.”

“And as for the resources, I served and did my time. I make enough money for us to live comfortably, and I have a good support system. I didn’t want to take away from those resources should there be a child in a worse off situation.”

“Okay, thank you.” She closed her file, looking up at the united front you and Frankie made on the couch across from her armchair. “The rest of my questions are for Alexia.”

“She’s upstairs with my mother at the moment, let me go fetch her.”

“That won’t be necessary, I’ll see myself up the stairs if that’s alright with you?”

A curt nod from Frankie was all he could manage, knowing that this wasn’t going well. It wasn’t going well at all.

Nearly an hour later, everyone was gathered around the kitchen table as the officer went over her notes for the visit.

“Based on the conclusion of this interview, I do not deem Mr. Morales a bad guardian nor someone who appears to have present day anger management issues. He had no prior history of assault and if everyone else we reach out to that is a part of this family’s circle corroborates the same narrative, then there will be no further investigation. Thank you for your time, have a lovely rest of your day.”

The snap of the thick folder in the officer’s hand startled you, head ducking and hands coming up to cover it. She at least had the decency to look apologetic for the action, not thinking of what the sound would do to you.

“I’m sorry, ma’am.” A nod paired with her words, and she was gone.

The rest of the day was spent talking to the attorney Will had found that was more than willing to take on the case. A court date had been established for the end of the following month.

No sooner than the door closed behind her and you all took a collective breath, was there another knock at the door. Three long strides led Frankie back to it, opening it up with a pinched expression. He was trying to remain calm, but he was shaken beyond belief. One small moment of instinctual protective anger and he had created this whole mess not sitting well with the man. But it wasn’t the officer returning, it was your nurse, picking you up for a scheduled physical therapy appointment.

“Hi, yes, of course. Lemme get her bag and she’s all set here in the living room.”

“Pastel! Can I go with you?”

“Oh, um, Lex, I’m not sure.” You looked to Frankie as she descended down the stairs, Isabella moving to slow her speedy approach as you pulled yourself up from your position on the couch with the walker. “You have to ask your father.”

“But you’re gonna be my Mama Pastel, you can say yes now!”

“…That’s technically true, but your father has final say, mija.”

“Yes, mi amor, you can. Papa needs to take care of some things, but it’ll be good for you to get out of the house.” It was the first time she had asked to leave since the shooting, surely a good step that she wanted to go somewhere, even if it was to the rehabilitation center with you for something so routine.

Three months.

Three months since your entire life was upended for the second time.

Frankie’s court date had last month, postponed to today. Not an official trial, due to the plaintiff being sentenced to a maximum facility. His case had been open and shut, no way of getting out of serving time. He had deliberately carried an automatic weapon into a public space and opened fire. Even if he hadn’t pleaded guilty in the hopes of garnering a deal, no one was siding with him or cutting him any slack. No lawyers had been willing to take him on as a client and he had denied a state-appointed one, knowing full well the consequences of his actions.

He had entered the courthouse a walking mess of anxiety and worry. A man concerned about the future he could provide for his daughter, for you, for his family. If he had been deemed an unsatisfactory guardian with notations of anger management issues, his job would be on the line. Tourism bringing so much to the city and the company wanted to aid Vets in any way they could. But would surely draw the line as such an accusation and paper trail.

He had emerged from the courthouse light on his feet with a grin on his face. Stopping at the shop to check on things for you, purchasing a bouquet for you and Lex on his way home.

Then had been Lex’s birthday, where she wished out loud as she blew her candles out that she wanted to go back to school. Frankie had a long conversation with her therapist, and they agreed she would return to school after the winter break. The first half of the school year done at her own pace but well enough at home to allow for her to seamlessly integrate back in.

Taylor had returned home with a promise to come out three times a year. The guys had one last night out with him along, having bonded with him over the course of his time here. Morgan helping to make sure they didn’t over indulge and that they all got home okay. And another night with everyone involved when Morgan had a night off of her own. Though Taylor wasn’t her focus, having gotten together with Santiago, she was sad to see him go along with everyone else. You missed him, his presence and calming demeanor. The way he had brought home to you in such small ways you hadn’t known you had missed until they were right in front of you. But you had left for a reason and he had a life and a kid to get back to.

Will and Isabella were official and he has asked her to move in with him, prompting Benny to search for a place of his own. He was working on convincing the new assistant he hired to let him take her out, but she admitted to you one day when she came into the shop that she liked how hard he was trying to get her attention. You both laughed, lamenting over the eager attitude he possessed. But ultimately you had turned serious and said he was a good man who would do right by her. That she should give him the chance to show her how much he cared.

You had gone back to working in the shop, though you needed a cane to help you get around. It was a part of who you were now, spells of numbness and healed injuries aching long after recovery. But you were stronger than you had been, able to stand on your feet and do what you loved best. The shop was to be featured in a second article, praising your bravery and return to work, the same writer from before presenting you with a ‘best local bakery’ award from the open poll the magazine holds each year.

But now….now you were running late.

Cursing under your breath, you carefully moved down the stairs of the apartment and down to the ground floor. The cats had been moved to the house forever ago, but there was a stray that came around the back door and you wanted to put a better dish out for them to have food and water. It had run from you, but you hoped it would come back for the fresh food and new bowl.

Locking up, you loaded up into the truck and carefully took off across downtown.

The twinkling lights strewn up were beautiful, reflecting off the large windows and glass bottles of the bar and you leaned over to press your lips to his neck over his collar. Though he didn’t turn to face you, in deep conversation with the people across from you, his arm moved around you and pulled you close, hand caressing your hip over the fabric of your dress.

An engagement party, curtesy of Pope’s determined mind and the help of the magazine editor. She had been delighted and more than happy to help cover the costs for the celebration, she had pulled you into a hug when you arrived arm in arm with Frankie. Everyone posted around the bar, the one where you and Frankie had your first official date, and cheered as you entered. You had been sure it was closed, worried that Frankie had mixed up his days for the reservation, but he had said Santigo had made it for him.

It had been an amazing surprise, tears of affection threatening to spill over your lash line at all of your friends and favorite people in one place. To celebrate your and Frankie’s love.

The food was amazing, the full menu available to order and you made sure to get a serving of crispy brussel sprouts that were too spicy for Frankie. He had smiled fondly at you as you inhaled them, taking delight in how the simplest of things could bring a smile to your face. Just as you popped the last one in your mouth, he was pulling you out of the booth and up on your feet. When you reached for your cane, he gently took both your hands in his and guided you to the middle of the floor, where people were dancing.

“Fransisco, if I recall correctly you said you don’t dance.” You teased, hands going around his neck as his went around your waist to settle on the small of your back.

“I don’t, sweet girl. But for you, I’m willing to try.” He pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose, eyes taking in the way your long curls framed your face. How the auburn of them was complimented by the dark green almost black of your dress, the ink on your skin crystalline from your glittery lotion Lex had coerced you into buying for the guest bathroom.

“You’re perfect just the way you are, mi amor.” You allowed him to gently sway your bodies back and forth, small words of affection flowing between you as the music lulled into a soft medley of strings and horns.

“I’m so glad Pope pestered you everyday, what I wouldn’t give to have seen him get shot down the first time.” Frankie chuckled, chest vibrating close and warming you up from the inside out.

“He took it in stride, I think. He likes a challenge.”

Off to the side the man in question was seated at a booth, his tie loosening and his attention on his best friend and love. His heart full and his mind working in overtime to try and figure out how to top this for Frankie’s bachelor party. His attention called back to the present as a small figure bounded up to him with a fresh new fizzy drink.

“Tio Santi! They had strawberry syrup!”

“That’s amazing, mi corazon. Muy delicioso!” He reached out to lift her up, settling her in his lap as she caught sight of her dad and soon to be mom dancing together. Completely caught up in each other in the best way. She smiled, happy.

“Are you excited to go back to school, mi corazon?” Santiago bounced her on his leg, the layers of her dress floating in the air with his motions.

“Yes, but I’m also nervous.”

“It’s okay to be nervous.”

“My friends will all have new friends, I’m afraid they won’t want to talk to me anymore.”

“Nonsense, everyone is gonna crowd around you and be so excited to see you again.”

“I hope so.”

“I promise you, it’ll all be okay. You’ve come so far, mi amor.”

“Pastel too! And Papa!”

“Them too.” Santi looked toward where you were still softly swaying with Frankie, slow music playing over the speakers. The backdrop of the flowers and warm string lights strewn over the ceiling lighting up your features enough to see the soft smiles you shared with each other. Frankie’s hands were around your waist, helping to support you while you own were wrapped around his neck. Whispering sweet nothings to each other as the night continued on.

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dividers: by the lovely @/saradika-graphics

taglist: @tanzthompson @clevergirl74 @sullyosully @bitchwitch1981 @anoverwhelmingdin @jessthebaker @peppermintfury @for-a-longlongtime @peppermintfury @tuquoquebrute @readingiskeepingmegoing @christinamadsen @heareball @soft-persephone @vivian-pascal

[whomstwedointheshadows]

I am howling at the sky for the look tonight that Harvey Guillén staked to death, spat on, and made it beg on the red carpet. Instead of just ranting to my queer fashion/fandom retail friends again, I took our collective slobber and tears to outline my plea to the fashion gods.

Why doesn’t this man have a ‘mens’wear line in every American mall? There is a gap in the market for adventurous, queer friendly suiting available through a retailer like Macys/J C Penney. Yes, retail is dying and wedding industry more so, but that’s particular to what’s available for consumers as well. Suiting is turned from off the rack into iconic by proper tailoring, but let me tell you from working all sides of the bridal salon, even up-scale clothing lines are getting rude as hell about quality and assembly to prevent tailoring and longevity.

This kid’s Disney charm would be perfect for introducing a plus size, inclusive line of fashion-forward pieces which include, say a QR code video about taking your own measurements, how adjustments work, with pieces designed to be sleek, with enough allowance for tailoring, and minding the lines in the garment to make the adjustments for plus size bodies easier. It’s no more adjustments than are made on straight size bodies, it’s just straight size bodies have more options to find a line which works with their natural shape.

But in my experience, it’s gender non-conforming folks and plus sized folks who get pushed out of finding pieces they can actually use for celebrations or work, much less pieces with actual personality that spark joy. This man has been killing it for years, really getting some clutch looks for events and invites in the fashion world. He’s showing proof of concept every time he steps in front of a camera.

Watching Harvey’s fashion evolution, I trust his fashion team and judgement to create a mid/high line for workwear to events suiting embracing a gender nonconforming audience. I can’t think of anyone better situated to become the ambassador of a brand with *the* formal wear for queer events and special occasions. I was tickled to see he sells his own merch and hope this experience convinces him of the joy working with artists and connecting their visions to a wanting public, dipping toes into the new ethical, sustainable trends in fashion. His looks alone shows he’s done his homework over the years about timelessness and early adopting trends.

For the years I worked selling/tailoring wedding dresses, there was the prophetic ‘someday… along will come the man who revives men’s fashion for events again’ to save the David’s bridal/men’s wear house lines who keep dropping plus sizes like mine and dying off. As the pet butch in the bridal salon I pleaded to the sky for better suiting options. Add that to my butch lezzy ways and trans masc circle of friends I legit spent this past Friday night drunk in a bar with a seam ripper adjusting jackets and darting pants in an unplanned sewing circle for a bachelorette until it was my round of karaoke. This isn’t the first time I’ve spontaneously started tailoring for the queers, I can’t keep up with the demand! Y’all we are in our twenties to mid thirties there should be better options than this that don’t require a vacation to LA/NY!!

I have ethical, sustainable fashion preferences about slipping in a retailer versus an online brand. But for the vision of accessible clothing to the masses pushing the envelope of the kind of quality only vintage pieces are affording the general public, this is the only celebrity really posed with the image, high energy, and bona fides to be the face of it. His connections in the fashion game are only growing as WWDITS wraps up.

If this man opened a pop-up suiting/fashion shop I’d take my limited time and resources to really dig in to the designers he promoted. I’d be howling in the streets for my celebrants to go get a Gullién. There’s no shortage online pattern makers, but there is a shortage of queer friendly shops to really get pieces that pop and it feels safe to enjoy in a retail environment. For average people wanting to engage with fashion that affirms their identity on their special day, there’s too much fucking compromise. Honestly it’s nice that I have a side hustle sewing to pattern, but I’d give it up in a fucking heartbeat for there to be actually sustainable and approachable options. I wish there was an in between of being ‘affordable’ gnc suiting in an American mall but add plus size availability and it gets sad for your most thrifty, creative friends. Someone needs the step in the gap, and why not someone at the top of the game?

Even if it was just a pop up line every few years, I’d fucking salivate over every image in that catalogue two thousand miles away for what it can teach home sewists just by virtue of curating those artisans with the express goal of queer, fat friendly designs playing together. Just the existence of vintage shops like Proud Mary creates a boom across the inter-webs of new sewists per post. Could anyone really imagine if there were actually accessible stores in key cities/supported by an online catalog with a personable, rising star as the brand face?

Please feed us more fashion, Harvey. Keep those stylists and designer friends close. Please. I cannot stress how many mascs/nb-bebes keep dropping your name every fitting consultation across this nation and it’s for good reason.