#wine aunt never been so hot

[analogicalreasoning]

I know it's Patton's birthday, but what better gift to him than drawing his boyfriend? /j /silly

I absolutely love this snake boy. I should consider drawing him and Analogical more often <3

Analoceit..?

[florencemtrash]

To sleep at your back

Author's Note: Just a lil oneshot. Lots of fluff — both IC and Azriel x Reader. Sleepy Azriel is the best Azriel! No warnings.

Y/n’s back was beginning to ache, like an uncomfortably hot stone had knotted itself into the base of her spine. She twisted this way and that in her seat, neck craning over the textbook like a slim tree in the wind. Her family members bustled around her. Cassian kneeled on the ground, palms outstretched as striking practice for Nyx. The little boy beat at him with tiny fists, every thump, thump, thump punctuated by a fake grimace from his favorite uncle. 

“You’re becoming too strong for me, little one,” Cassian cried out, cowering to the floor before sprawling out in a dying heap. Nyx leapt onto his chest, declaring his victory for the whole house to hear. 

Nesta smirked from over her book, with Gwyn and Emerie similarly arranged around the coffee table. 

Elain dragged Lucien out by one flour coated arm to watch for a few moments, a sugar-dusted smile on her rosy cheeks as she wiped sweat from her brow. “Dinner’s running late,” she called out before slipping back into the warm kitchen with her mate in tow. 

Everyone hummed their acknowledgement. 

Soon the boy grew tired from their games, but he was too proud to admit it. “What’s taking them so long?” He asked instead, taking the welcome break to lean his damp head of curls under Cassian’s chin. 

“I’m sure they’ll be done anytime now.” Debriefs with Azriel always took long — the male was too thorough for his own good. Nyx made a point to glance at Y/n. His aunt always had a habit of disappearing into her work whenever Azriel was away. It kept her mind off the distance where it might have driven Cassian and Nesta, or Rhysand and Feyre mad. 

Mated couples didn’t like to be separated, especially not for this long. But at least Y/n could hear Azriel in her mind now. The bond had been stretched thin — his voice faint and difficult to hear — during his long months on the Continent. 

Her head jerked up suddenly and no sooner had she stood up from her seat before Azriel was by her side in a burst of darkness. Tendrils of shadow snaked out from his feet, drinking up the sunlight like it was wine until the temperature stuttered with a cool whisper. He sank back into the seat, dragging her with him so she was sitting in between his sprawled out legs. He wrapped his arms firmly around her middle, pressing her back against his chest and nuzzling into the crook of her neck. Whispers were exchanged between presses of lips against skin. She smoothed the rough calluses of his hands, murmuring “Welcome home.”

And he answered in her mind, Gods I love you. 

He rested his chin against her back, watching over her shoulder as she eventually went back to her reading, comforted by his presence so close to her. It was thrilling how much she loved him. Azriel could scarcely believe it most days. 

I can’t believe I get to love you. He thought sleepily. He hadn’t intended to let the thought slip through the bond, but she warmed immediately, cheeks touched with heat. 

You’re a hopeless romantic. She teased. 

He sighed happily, eyelids fluttering shut despite his best efforts. He hadn’t slept well while he was away. He never did. His head grew heavy on her shoulder, but she appreciated the weight of him at her back. 

When dinner was finally ready, and their family members carefully streamed through the kitchen, they marveled at the sight of Azriel fast asleep against Y/n, one hand of hers carded through his black hair.

[bangaveragewhitewine]

feel the magic

Steve Harrington x Reader 

Seven days before Christmas, you find yourself stuck in a snowstorm in the middle of a city you're still finding your place in. You wait out the weather with a handsome stranger.

This prompt is from @allthingsjoeq & @bettyfrommars ❄️ Holiday Prompt Party ❄️ which was so fun! Thank you ladies for sharing these ♥️

You both rush to find shelter in a bookstore or bar during a snowstorm

Word Count: 6.6k

Contents: Set in 90’s Chicago, reader & Steve are both mid-late twenties. Nothing explicit, some kisses and mentions of arousal. Some talk of Steve’s shitty parents. No physical descriptions of reader. Steve Harrington’s charm comes with its own warning.

Note: Thank you @specialagentmonkey for proofreading and being my hype woman as always ♥️

Chicago in December was cold. Very fucking cold.

A million miles from the hot and heavy city you moved to in the summer, there was something about that bitter chill of the air, the frosted pavements and the warm glow of the Christmas lights decked across the city that made it feel like something right out of a movie. You never felt like you could relate to those leading ladies in the romantic comedies and the coming-of-age romances you grew up watching, more like some side-friend character who faded into the background, inconsequential to the plot and action.

It was your first winter in the city, your first Christmas too, and it wasn’t long before you realised that your grandma had been right - investing in a good winter coat was a must for the Windy City. Despite the cold, the shininess of your new adventure in a new city still held up, feeling like the city girl you had always dared to dream of being.  

With the holidays too close for comfort - just seven days before you caught a cab to O’Hare to make the journey home - you cashed in some of your overtime and finished work early to hit the city to get the last few presents for friends and family. 

The snow had started just before you left the office, a light dusting that made your shopping trip feel even more magical. You had carefully stowed your camera in your bag to snap shots of the big tree at Civic Centre and the lights around City Hall to show your Mom and friends at home. When the snow started to come down heavier and heavier, the fluffy fat flakes falling in the shot made it feel more magical. 

As you looked around, soaked in the festivity of it all, you thought that maybe for one day you could play pretend and let yourself feel like the glossy, confident main character of the movie in your head. 

By six o’clock the magic of it all had well worn off and you were ready to go home. Your wool winter coat kept you warm-cheeked and overheating as you waited in line in Macy’s to pay for a scarf and fancy hand cream that your Aunt would fake-smile at before tossing it to the side. It felt like years since you had stepped inside the huge store, some sort of liminal purgatory where time didn’t exist and it was far too easy to get lost amongst the shiny Christmas displays and the disorienting overstimulation of the cosmetics and fragrances department. 

Your head was surely going to explode if you heard some poor impression of Bing Crosby crooning another Christmassy jingle over the store’s speakers. You were feeling distinctly less festive and fun now - less merry and bright, more murderous and bad-tempered. 

Over the tinny muzak and the scratch of your scarf on your too-warm neck, you tuned into the conversation going on behind you.

“That snow is really coming down, huh?”

“Didn’t you hear? It’s some sorta weather-bomb - only going to get heavier.” 

You and every other shopper within earshot looked toward the windows, seeing the white flurry instead of the warm glow of Christmas lights. 

You became all too aware of the sheer number of bags you were carrying, weighed down with books and gifts and trinkets, the heft of your camera and the bottle of wine you had bought to sip when you got home. The overheated parts of you longed to be cool again, but this felt like some sort of karmic mockery. The tad-too-short-for-work skirt you had chanced and got away with that day felt minuscule beneath your coat as you imagined how cold a weather-bomb was going to be.

By the time you paid and politely refused gift-wrapping for your purchase, the snowstorm had thrown the city into chaos. Traffic was at a near standstill when you reached the front door on State Street, the sidewalks packed with shoppers and commuters battling through the snow and each other to find a way home. 

The subway entrance was one street away but seeing the pushing and shoving crowd cramming themselves underground made you feel claustrophobic, twisting hot panic in your gut. Maybe the stop before might be less crazy, you thought, hoping for a better chance of getting home sometime before midnight, so you squeezed away from the crowd and braved the worsening blizzard. 

The magic of Christmas had almost fully waned now, despite the snowball fights starting up amongst the gridlocked traffic. You just wanted to get home, feel your fingers and toes again perhaps. You picked your steps through the icy streets, trying not to slip or whack other flustered pedestrians with your bags; they didn’t have the same courtesy or kindness. Patience and Christmas cheer had worn thin, battered by heavy snow.

“Watch it!” one sharp-elbowed woman hissed over her furry coat collar as she shouldered past you, sending you off-balance just as a rogue snowball hit your shoulder. 

Had your feet not been aching so badly, you would have stamped like a toddler.

“Bitch.” Your frustrated whisper went unheard as you continued down the block, squinting to pick out a landmark to orient yourself in the snowy city. 

You tucked yourself into a side street to regroup and take a breath, attempting to condense your too-many shopping bags to protect the preciously picked-out presents inside. The welcoming glow of a bar sign caught your eye, a blinking beacon through the fluster of snow. 

Tucked away down the side street, The Snug appeared like a mirage. Twinkling Christmas lights blurred by the steamed-up windows winked at you, inviting you inside. It was fate.

Surely the snow will stop soon, you thought as you gathered yourself again. One drink and some fries would be plenty of time to let the streets and subways settle.

The cold air made your nose and lungs feel spikey-sore after a few deep steadying breaths. With your bags clutched safely in your hands, you picked your steps toward the almost-hidden bar, dodging patches of ice to get to the door. 

Inside was cosy-calm, with clusters of friends and a few fellow solo drinkers hiding from the heavy snow and chaos. It was quieter than the streets and packed subways, their chatter backed by songs queued up from a jukebox glowing in the corner. 

You squeezed yourself and your bags into a free booth, taking a load off with a sigh that pulled the tension all the way up from the tips of your toes.

Daringly, you chanced a look in your compact to assess the damage of a day of shopping and going head-to-head with the bitter cold front. Mascara smudged beneath your eyes, hair a riot. 

“Shit,” you murmured, pulling the attention from the man at the next table.

He smiled, sympathetic when he saw your flustered state. “You look like you’re in the right place.” 

After blowing hair from your face you returned a tight smile. “Thanks, I think.” 

His brown eyes widened. “Oh no, no... I didn’t mean it like that,” he said, horrified that he had offended you. 

You shook your head, “No, I get it. I look insane. It’s been a day.” Handbag in hand, you looked at him again, smiling a little softer at the flustered stranger. “Could you keep an eye on my bags for a sec? I’m just going to the ladies' room. And the bar.”

The man nodded, sitting back in his chair. “Sure, go for it. I’ll guard them with my life.” 

You didn’t miss his charming smile, or the pink tint of embarrassment that lingered on his cheeks after accidentally telling you the truth about just how crazy you looked. You caught the subtle once-over he gave you after your coat was removed and hoped that your sixty-denier tights hadn’t laddered. Your cheeks felt warm again as you made your way to the ladies' room, purse in hand to wrangle your messy hat-hair and fix your face. 

As you patted rose-tinted balm onto your lips, you quietly hoped that first impressions could be overwritten.

Armed with a glass of red wine and your receipt for a basket of fries,  you returned to your table and tried not to sigh too obnoxiously (or moan) at the relief of sitting down. At the next table, the brown-eyed man was looking over a piece of paper and tapping his pen against his full lower lip. 

“Thanks, Stranger,” you said, looking and feeling at least ten times better.

“Oh. You’re welcome,” he said, smiling distractedly before raising his half-drunk beer to you. 

You raised your glass in return, sharing that little smile with the stranger before plucking one of the new books from your cluster of bags to distract your busy mind.

Wine and a book in a cosy bar? Maybe the day had not entirely gone to shit.

The stranger went back to his list, and you tried not to let your gaze linger too long on his broad shoulders or his sharp jaw. He looked like he had just finished work, a few shirt buttons undone beneath his navy blazer, his coat and scarf bundled on the chair opposite him with one lonely Macy’s bag on top. You watched him push his honeyed hair back, raking his fingers through the strands falling over his forehead. It was easy to forget to even open your book to start reading in favour of being distracted by him.

There was no denying he was attractive. And there was no denying that you were caught looking when his brown eyes met yours and his lips twitched with a charming smile. 

“Steve.” 

“Huh?” Wide-eyed, and flushed-hot with embarrassment, you could not find a quick way to explain away your gazing. 

“You called me ‘stranger’ before. My name’s Steve.”

“Oh. Of course. Steve.” You gave him your name, watching how he smiled when you said it before repeating it as you had done with his.

“Pretty name. Guess we’re not strangers anymore.” 

“I guess not.” 

His mouth curved up as he lifted his glass again, taking a slow sip. Your eyes drifted to two perfect moles on his neck as he swallowed; they matched the twin set on his cheek.

Some sort of alarm started to scream in your head; you had forgotten the feeling of being flirted with. If that’s what this was. 

“Christmas shopping?” he asked, nodding to your bags. 

“Yeah, just about have everything,” you said, “Now I have to wrap it all.” After a steadying sip of wine as your fries arrived, you watched how he twirled his pen between thick fingers, names left uncrossed on the paper in front of him. “Are you stuck?”

Steve slumped back in his chair, stretching his arms above his head before running his fingers through his hair again, making it messy in the most artfully effortless way.   “Yeah, a little.” He rubbed his face before looking at you again. “Um, can I pick your brains? I don’t wanna impose…” 

This was never how your day was supposed to go. As the snowstorm raged on outside, inside the cosiness of the bar felt like a whole other world miles from your planned evening of gift-wrapping and most of a bottle of wine. Instead, surrounded by soggy shopping bags, you found yourself with the attention of an Adonis-like stranger. You felt like it was some sort of fair deal from the universe.

When you made the move to the city, started afresh with this new chapter, you made yourself promise to take life as it came and not be too uptight. Maybe this was all part of the flow you had vowed to go with…

Smiling at Steve, you pushed your unopened book to the side and leaned forward on your arms, “Sure. Go for it.”

Steve relocated to your booth after a few minutes of chatting. An hour and a half later, he had made himself at home opposite you with his bright smile and dreamy dark eyes. 

The bar had become a refuge to a few more bodies seeking shelter from the bitter cold front raging outside. He didn’t need much convincing to share your booth, freeing up the table for a couple huddled together over hot whiskies.

You had insisted on sharing your fries with Steve as you gave suggestions on what he could buy for the last few names on his list. A second basket and another round of drinks had been ordered on his tab when you realised that neither of you would be going home any time soon.

With a greasy-hot fry between your fingers, you tried not to drool over his thick forearms as he rolled up his shirtsleeves, and went back to navigating Steve’s complex network of friends-turned-family.

“So he’s your ex-girlfriend’s little brother? And you stayed friends… because he’s friends with Dustin…? Who’s like your brother?” 

As you figured out who the hell ‘Mike’ was, Steve nodded encouragingly and chewed another fry.

“You got it.” His straight white teeth glinted in the warm light of the bar.

“And his sister - Mike’s sister, your ex-girlfriend, Nancy… Is Robin’s girlfriend now? Robin, your best friend?” 

“Yep. See, told you you’d wrap your head around it eventually.” His smile was proud as he nudged the fries your way again. 

You took two more fries as your reward before nudging the basket back to Steve. You tried not to focus on the way the fries had left his lips shiny, or the pink glow on his cheeks when he caught you staring. Again. 

When you realised that this serendipitous stranger who gave you butterflies wasn’t someone else’s boyfriend, you dropped your shoulders and your guard and relaxed into the booth more. You willed yourself to relax, to go with the flow. It was not difficult to let yourself sink deeper into those warm brown eyes of Steve’s as he slowly upped his flirtations and snuck his own barely subtle glances at your lips. 

He was smooth.

Steve tapped the paper list with his finger, transferring more salt and oil from the fries to the now annotated and doodled-on list. 

“So, any suggestions? He’s the hardest one to buy for, so of course I got him for Secret Santa. Again.” He leaned his head back against the booth. “He’s a little dweeb. Big dweeb now. Taller than me.”

He spoke with such fondness of the kid he swore didn’t like him. It wasn’t difficult to figure out that Steve was maybe one of the most thoughtful people you had ever met. Most of what you had learned about him had been through what he told you about his friends - where he grew up, his collection of poorly paid jobs after high school before going to college in Indianapolis, then onto Chicago. His best friends were never far behind. He would be spending the Holidays with friends and their families instead of his own, which he seemed perfectly fine about. 

He was funny too, heavy-handed with charm and kindness. You were definitely done for.

Steve Harrington seemed like an enigma, one you would happily devote hours and hours to figuring out.

The basket fries were pushed back and forth and you wracked your brains to think of a gift for this random college kid you didn’t know. The barman announced that the snow was still coming down heavily, and to make yourselves at home. You had lost all track of time, cosy in the bubble of the booth with your new friend.

His brown eyes fixed on you as he rested his chin in his hand. “All you wanted was a quiet drink and a place to hide from the snow, and now you’re helping some dork with his shopping list. M’sorry, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. The butterflies in your gut swooped.

Warm-cheeked, you shrugged, “I don’t mind. It’s distracting me from panicking about how I’ll get home, or if I’ll ever get home. I’m still figuring out the subways.” Picking at the crisp ends of the fries, you tried not to get lost looking into his shiny amber eyes. “I was only going home to wrap presents anyway.” 

Steve smiled when you mirrored him, cheek resting on your hand. 

“I think this isn’t such a bad way to spend the evening, Steve.”

A pink glow - not entirely from his beer - warmed Steve’s face and he looked down at his almost empty glass. You would think he was being bashful had there not been a grin spreading on his handsome face. 

“Oh, you’re trouble.” 

You shrugged, attempting to play coy. “What were you supposed to be doing tonight? What are you missing to be here with some strange girl?”

Steve shrugged. “Well, I was Christmas shopping, like you. Killing time. I was supposed to meet my buddy for dinner and drinks, came in to use the phone to cancel when the snow got bad. I’ll catch up with him tomorrow.”

“A buddy on your list?” You asked, nodding to the piece of paper.

“Mhm. Eddie. He didn’t mind too much, I’ll make it up to him.” He sipped his drink again.  “He has a gig tomorrow night, so I’ll see if I can help with lifting amps and shit.”

“He’s the heavy metal guy?” you asked, remembering back to Steve labelling him as so easy to buy for.

Steve had not smiled so much in weeks, maybe months. With you, tucked away in The Snug, he basked in the ache in his cheeks, the way you laughed, how you remembered little things about him and his friends. 

“I hope these friends of yours realise how much you love them, Steve.”

He liked that blunt edge of your delivery too. 

You watched him fluster a little for the second time that evening.

“I do mean that. You’re putting so much of yourself into these presents, not just… I don’t know, throwing money at stuff. There’s so much thought in all of these.” You tapped the paper for emphasis, recognising a little of yourself in the way Steve put thought into his gifts for the ones he loved. 

You knew the sting of that thoughtfulness not being returned, or even noticed. 

Watching Steve flounder, seeing him resonate with your assessment, you felt a sinking stone in your chest. Too much. Too far. He was still a stranger, a stranger you were practically snowed in with and had probably developed some sort of cabin-fever-bond with, and you had to push it. 

“Sorry. Shit. Steve, I should just shut up. I don’t know you, or your friends. I would be so mad if some stranger just-”

His hand, his much bigger, warmer hand, reached for yours and squeezed. 

“Stop. It’s okay.” Steve squeezed again, his palm warm as it curved around your hand. “What you said, it’s true. I.. Shit.” He smiled, a sadness in his eyes you had not seen and blamed yourself for, “Here I am dumping my baggage on you.” 

Steve sighed but didn’t let your hand go. You didn’t mind; you didn’t want him to.

“My parents just threw money at gifts for me. Totally impersonal shit I didn’t need, or want. They didn’t know me or what I liked, all for appearances and shit like that.” You watched soft fondness pull at the corner of his mouth. “So I put thought into stuff for my friends. They’re my family now. They annoy the hell out of me some days, but I want them to know… I dunno, that I listen. That I hear them. And see them, what they like…”

He trailed off when you turned your hand beneath his and squeezed.

“That’s the sweetest, Steve. They’re very lucky to have you.” Your voice was a gentle murmur, loud enough for him to hear.

He shrugged, playing smooth again despite the reality check he had been dealt. “M’the lucky one. They’re buttheads, but they have my back too. Promise.” 

You nodded and tried not to flush when you looked at your joined hands. 

“Tell me something about you then, Steve… I don’t even know your last name. What’s your favourite colour?” 

He smiled again, back on some new track now after that detour to the trauma dump. “I like yellow. I usually say blue, because when I say yellow people look at me like I’m crazy or somethin’. Yellow. Definitely.”

It clicked then, the warmth of his smile and his presence glowed like yellow sunshine and the golden bulbs of Christmas lights that could warm up the most frigid places. Warm like melted butter on toast and the glow of the lamp beside your bed for reading late into the night. It made you feel warm despite the winter cold.  

“And it’s Harrington. Steve Harrington.”

“Yellow suits you, Steve Harrington.” 

You and Steve moved on to clove-heavy hot whiskies as you traded questions back and forth, learning about each other little by little. You found it hard not to fall a little bit in love with him as he became less of a stranger to you. 

He played basketball in school and swam competitively. His favourite films were Top Gun and Dirty Dancing. He preferred pancakes over waffles and didn’t like bacon on his burgers. You spoke briefly about what you did for work and focused instead on trivial things that showed each other the real you, the real Steve Harrington. 

What’s your middle name? 

Best Halloween costume? 

Most important question ever, crunchy or smooth?

He was as close to perfect as you had ever dreamed someone could be. 

Two middle names, Henry Michael. 

Maverick, or Sandy from Grease - don’t ask, I’m not drunk enough. 

Crunchy, duh. Have you tried it with honey instead of jelly?

A tiny cynical part of you waited for something about him to dislike. You could have kept waiting, kept wondering, but instead you decided to relent to the simple serendipity of it all. Maybe there was nothing to dislike about Steve (Henry Michael) Harrington, and that was perfectly okay.  

You sat alone at the table, watching Steve’s broad back as he leaned against the bar to get change for the jukebox. That golden glow of his made him like the North Star in the business of the bar; simultaneously exciting you and making you deliciously nervous. 

The first couple of people left the bar to bravely trek home through the mean cold streets a little after nine, promising to call to let the bar staff know they got back safe and advise whether others should stay or chance the journey home. Everyone had agreed to a lock-in until morning if the snow didn’t stop or if the conditions got too dangerous. 

You all waited on a collective breath for the phone to ring; drinks flowed, and conversations continued and deepened over strong drinks. Feeling comfortably blurred around the edges, the spirits stayed high despite the less-than-perfect circumstances.

The shrill ringing of the phone behind the bar pulled the air from the room, silence fell. 

Home safe. The barman gave a thumbs up and relayed the message that the streets were walkable, a few taxis were running if you were lucky to catch one. 

Steve’s searching gaze found yours as everyone else cheered. The bubble had burst. 

His smile was a little sad, matching yours despite the good news that you could actually go home. He held up a finger, ‘one sec’, and darted to the jukebox with his handful of change to queue up some songs before you had to say goodbye. 

Goodbye. 

You didn’t want to say goodbye to Steve Harrington. 

A heavy weight settled in your chest as you took stock of your bags, distracting yourself until Steve settled himself across from you again. His hand patted the smooth table top twice, head tilted to look at your face. 

“Y’okay?” he asked. “Guess it’s good that we don’t need to sleep here tonight..?”

“Mhm. Definitely. Just… trying to figure out how long it’s going to take me to get home,” you said, not totally a lie. Your smile didn’t meet your eyes, even though you looked forward to getting into your cosy bed with the brushed cotton bedsheets and your fuzzy flannel pyjamas.

“Me too. What way are you headed?” Steve said, an innocent glimmer of hopefulness in his eyes. 

When you told him where you lived he nodded. “M’not far from there. I’d… really like to walk you home, if that’s okay? Or try to find a cab…We could share?” Steve rambled a little,  his smooth exterior cracking. “Fuck it. I want to make sure you get home safe, and I like talking to you. A little part of me was hoping we’d get snowed in or something so stupid so I could spend more time with you.” 

You looked at him across the table, wide-eyed as your heart hammered in your chest. 

“Is that crazy of me? I’m coming on way too strong, aren’t I?” 

“Steve.”

You smiled, taking his hand. “That would be really great. I kinda hoped the same. I’d like it if you walked me home.”

His smile was blinding as he took your hand between both of his, warm and large. “Okay, great. Cool.” 

“Cool,” you echoed, placing your other hand on top of his like a stack as you tried not to giggle or kick your feet.

The familiar opening chords of Old Time Rock and Roll played from the jukebox, making you both grin wider at each other. 

“It’s a classic, I couldn’t not put it on,” he said.

You threw your head back, laughing happily as Steve murmur-sang along with Bob Seger, bobbing his head as he crooned quietly for you. You knew about the scar on his arm from when he recreated that scene at a party; slid too hard, right into his mother’s second-favourite vase as his friends cheered him on (then drove him to the ER).

“Don’t tell me you put something from Dirty Dancing on next, Steve,” you teased, seeing his eyes sparkle with a sly sweetness. “Steve!”

Your laugh made him feel tingly-warm all over.

“It’s not Time of My Life or She’s Like the Wind, promise,” he said, smirking as he kept his cards close to his chest. “Promise. We can go when it’s over.  If you’re ready to head out?”

You nodded, squeezing his hands before rooting in your bag for your gloves. Knowing that you didn’t have to part ways just yet made the idea of being out in the cold a little more tolerable.

“You been taking photos of the lights?” Steve asked, picking up your camera from the table after taking it out of your bag. 

He remembered that ‘new in town’ excitement, still had the photos of him with Robin in front of the tree at Civic Centre (fresh-faced and pink-cheeked after too much mulled wine). The big tree had been nothing on their own lovably wonky tree in their tiny apartment, decorated with cheap baubles and coloured lights and tinsel that shed so much . 

“Yeah, to show my Mom. Super cheesy, I know,” you rolled your eyes and watched as Steve turned it so carefully in his hands. “Might get some snaps of the snow, to remember tonight.”

As Steve nodded, an idea bobbed to the surface of your mind. 

“Steve? Feel free to say no but… Could I get one of us? To remember…”

As if you would ever forget the night you met Steve Harrington. 

Steve watched your teeth sink into your lower lip, let his eyes linger before catching your eyes. You saw the whiskey-brown disappear, swallowed by deep black pupils. 

“Only if you get me a copy of it.”

His voice was low, smooth, and made your thighs squeeze - not for the first time that evening either. Without saying as much, you knew it meant he would like to see you again, that he didn’t want to forget you either.

You kept your voice remarkably cool and calm, despite the urge to squeal and kick your feet. “Yeah. Of course…” 

He winked before leaning over to catch the attention of the woman at the next table, checking with you before he passed your camera to her with that bright charming smile of his.

The woman directed you both to lean in a little across the small booth table, taking her task very seriously. “You two look great! So cute!” she said, beaming behind the camera.

The opening bars of Hungry Eyes started up as she counted down. 

It made the perfect picture; Steve grinning as he watched a giggle burst from your smiling lips. Your head was spinning, your heart beating hard in your chest - when you looked at that photo in years to come, you would never forget that feeling.

He thanked the woman and took the camera back as you soaked the lyrics in, thinking of Steve instead of Swayze. As you tucked the camera away, you realised that the song said more than either of you were brave enough to say out loud.

I feel the magic between you and I…

When your glasses were empty, when the butterflies had settled again, you began to wrap yourselves in your scarves and coats, hats and gloves, and gather your bags and belongings before braving the cold together. 

The warmth in your bones from the bar was quickly extinguished by the bitter air outside, though you couldn’t pretend that the snow was not beautiful. A little post-apocalyptic perhaps, but beautiful nonetheless. 

“Fuck, that’s cold,” Steve hissed, his words turning to vapour as you set off together, leaving footprints side by side in the crunchy snow. 

“No shit,” you teased, giggling at Steve’s scowl.

The combination of frigid air and the alcohol in your blood made you feel delightfully dizzy. Steve’s hair was crushed beneath his beanie hat, the longer ends peeking out beneath between his turned-up coat collar and scarf. Something about how much hair he could squeeze under that fine (expensive) knit hat made you feel terribly fond and giddy about it. 

“Okay, smartass. You were such a nice girl in the bar,” he tutted, teasing you back. 

“Tricked you,” you shrugged, “I was never nice.” Your chattering teeth make your playful quips much less believable - as if Steve couldn’t see right through you. 

“C’mere. Stick by me, we’ll either stay warm or freeze together.” Hooking a hand around your arm, Steve pulled you close to share body heat. Closer than you had been in the bar, body to body, you found that you fit nicely under his arm. Spicy-warm notes of his cologne mixed with whispers of cigarette smoke buried deep in the wool of his coat.

You smiled up at him, a shiver of nervousness down your spine as you realised you were alone together - actually alone now - for the first time.

“This okay?” he asked, pink nose matching his cheeks as he steered you both through the snow. 

“Yeah,” you said, smiling back. With your arm wrapped around the thickness of his torso, you squeezed gently and hoped he could feel it through the winter layers. His grin told you he did. 

You walked in silence for a while, carrying the weight of ‘when can I see you again?’ and ‘please tell me you feel that spark too?’ with all of your shopping bags. 

“Hey, Steve?”

“Yeah?” His eyes shone, sparkled with something when he looked down at you.

“We still haven’t figured out a present for Mike…”

Steve hung his head, eyes squeezed shut as your feet slowed down. “This fuckin’ kid.”

He lifted his head after sighing so hard you swore he was going to turn inside out. 

“Mike Wheeler is going to be the death of me, I swear to god,” he said, speaking up to the sky. “He’s getting a Sam Goody gift card. Done. I don’t care anymore.” 

“Steve Harrington, you can’t pussy-out and get him a gift card,” you tutted, leaning your weight against him to make him swerve.

The way Steve’s laugh echoed through the empty snow-capped streets made your heart flutter. “You did not just accuse me of being a pussy. You’re breaking my heart here, baby.”

When he looked down at you, eyes sparkling with mirth rather than genuine hurt from your playful betrayal, you could not miss how his tongue darted out to wet his pretty pink lips. 

Baby echoed in your ears, warming you from the inside.

“You cannot get him a gift card.” Voice quiet and insistent, you squeezed him again, “Think, Steve.”

“I am.” Played-up-pathetic, Steve’s whiney voice made you double-take and giggle at him. “He’s impossible.” 

“No one is impossible. Tell me what he likes again. Don’t say ‘nerd shit’, Steve.”

Steve rolled his eyes and you poked his ribs, far too cosy and familiar with the man who was a stranger just a few hours ago.

“Dungeons and Dragons, weed,” he listed, “He writes stuff sometimes, films, uh… Taco Bell?” 

“He likes films too?”

“Mm. Studying film. Wants to be a screenwriter or somethin’...”

You hummed and looked up at the clear sky for an answer. “How about… a framed film poster?”

“Say more.” Steve looked down at you, prettier than the stars ever could be. 

You forced yourself not to look at his lips, knowing you were a weak tipsy woman at heart. “Well, what’s his favourite film? Posters are pretty easy to find, a nice-ish frame. Slap a bow on it, Merry Christmas, Mike.” 

Padded fingers tapped your upper arm as Steve thought, wracking his brains. “When they were kids, they dressed up as Ghostbusters for Halloween. Recreated it this year. Oh, you’re a fuckin’ genius!” 

Steve squeezed you tight against his side, and with a glimmer of mischief in his eyes, scooped you up with admirable ease to spin around in the snow. 

“Steve!” your voice was an undignified yelp, cracked with laughter. 

“You’ve saved Christmas!” Steve’s smiling face was brighter than any Christmas lights guiding your path home. Still turning with you, slower now and more careful, he rested his forehead against yours and murmured, “You’re some kinda miracle, baby.” 

Steve’s warm whiskey-tinted words whispered over your mouth. Your breath was caught, choked in a gasp in your throat, as he slowed down his spinning to ease you down onto the snowy empty road. Arms still wrapped around each other, shopping bags crushed and be-damned, you stood toe to toe just looking at each other. 

“Can I..?” Quietly smooth and charming, Steve’s eyes dipped to your lips. 

Instead of giving him an answer, using your words like a big girl, you grabbed a handful of his coat to bring your mouths together in a kiss. 

Christmas lights twinkled above you, like movie magic or fairy dust. Lips pressed and lingered, kisses slow and sweet. It was everything you dreamed it would be, better even as Steve hauled you closer still and traced his nose against yours. 

Smiling, breaths warming each other’s faces, you let Steve lead the next kiss - after all he had asked so nicely. One gloved hand on your cheek, his lips slotted with yours before he deepened the kiss with a tenderness that made your bones ache. Had he not been holding you so close, had you not been moored safely in the circle of his arms, you would have surely swooned.

His kisses warmed you, sending sparks through your limbs as his tongue grazed yours with a promise of more. You felt his lips tug and smile in response to the tiny gasping noise that escaped from your throat. Slowly, so sweetly, he kissed the side of your mouth and up to the warm apple of your cheek. 

“Wanted to do that all night,” he murmured, making sure you were steady to stand before peeling away slightly. 

“Me too.” You grinned, a giggle barely held behind your teeth. “Knew you were looking at my lips.”

“Oh yeah? Should’ve kissed you sooner then.” A smiling peck pressed to your lips as your reward, your gold star for being so observant, before you righted and reoriented yourselves for the rest of the walk home.

With most of your bags in Steve’s steady hand (the one that was not keeping you close to his side), you trekked together toward home as more frosty flakes fell from the dark night sky. 

The heat of your kiss had melted something more between you, both relieved that you weren’t the delusional one, that you both felt that same something. 

Without much traffic, meeting only a few other pedestrians trekking home in the snow, it felt like the journey was about to end far too soon. You passed and pointed out the place where you got your photo-film developed, your favourite diner, Steve’s favourite coffee place which happened to be by the bookstore you liked. 

“I don’t wanna be presumptuous,” Steve said, “But I’d love to see you again.” He looked down at your face, feeling his heart beat harder. “I’ve never met someone like you… Y’know, when you click right away?”

“I’d like that, Steve. I’d like that so much.” Butterfly wings fluttered hard in your chest as you watched his smile melt onto his handsome face. “Anyway, I want to know how that Secret Santa goes down.” 

His grin was brighter than the snow. “You have full credit for that, honey.” Smiling lips kissed your forehead, just where your hat ended. He had scribbled his number on a clean napkin back at the bar, tucked it in his pocket to slip to you if (when) you said yes to seeing him again. 

You let yourself lean into him, nuzzling his cologne-and-smoke-spiced arm before sighing. With your door in sight, you took a breath and made yourself be brave. 

“This is me, just up here.” 

You spotted the recognition on Steve’s face. This was goodnight - at least it wasn’t goodbye.

“We’re not so far from each other. I’m like.. Five blocks that way.” He pointed off to the left, somewhere you did not bother to follow in favour of looking up at Steve. 

Now or never. This didn’t have to be goodnight… 

“Hey, so I don't love the idea of you out here on your own in the snow. What if you freeze into an ice cube, or slip and crack your head?” 

As your teeth grazed your lower lip, you watched his cheek pulse as he tried not to smile at your dreamed-up worries. Your own smile was barely hidden, ducked briefly behind your thick scarf. 

“Huh. I didn’t think of that.” Steve bobbed his head, faux-thoughtful as he considered his next steps. “Pretty perilous…”

“Christmas would be cancelled…” You bit the inside of your cheek. 

“Oh shit, you think?” his brows raised beneath his beanie, a knowing smile gave him away. You couldn’t possibly match Steve’s smooth charm. 

You took a little breath in before asking the question you both knew the answer to.

“So, you might… You could stay the night? With me. If you want to.”

Steve measured himself and tried not to be too eager at the thought of more time with you, more kisses. “You sure?” he asked, glancing up at your building before looking right back at you. 

You nodded slowly, smiling when you spotted the fresh snowflakes on his lashes, dusted over his broad shoulders too. “Mmhm. I’m sure.” 

Steve smiled, closing the gap between you to kiss you again as the snow fell. “Then I’ll stay.” 

Thank you for reading💙 Likes, reblogs and comments are loved, cherished and stored in a little locket 💙

[feyhunter78]

Chapter Ten - In the cold light of day, many things are bound to change.

Ch 11

The drinks had addled his mind, but not as much as the scent of you, the feel of you, the taste of you has. He wishes to taste you again, and again, to hear you scream his name, to feel your teeth bite down on him, marking him as your own.

You drew blood, his ferocious lioness, broke the skin of his arm, marked him well. He hopes it stays, if not he will have to bring you to climax again and again until it does.

Jon curls his arm around you, basking in the warmth of your skin, in the way you draw nonsensical shapes on his chest. Your hands are so soft, your nails perfect, there has never been dirt or blood under them, and no callouses cover your palms. Those very palms which he brings to his lips, kissing them reverently. The sun shines down on you, the call of the morning birds floating in through your open window.

“Now, will you tell me who got you drunk?” You ask, smiling at him with the radiance of the sun.

“Both had a hand in it, though I must admit the presence of Joffrey did not help matters.”

You sit up, the smile slipping from your face, a storm cloud pulled over the sun. “You must leave, now, now Jon, back to your post.” You slide from the bed and gather his tunic and your stockings, throwing the flimsy fabric under the bed and his tunic to him, then you rummage around for a night shift, quickly slipping behind a folding screen and changing.

He pulls his tunic on, just in time for the knock at the door, your aunt’s voice calling through the door.

“Dear y/n, are you awake?” Her voice is sickly sweet, and it makes his head ache.

You grab a robe and wrap it around your night shift, throwing yourself into a chair by the long dead fire, pretending you had been reading.

Jon opens the door, giving the Dowager Queen a bow, ignoring the way the world spins as he lifts his head once more.

“Aunt Cersei, is there something I can help you with?” You ask, looking up at her with an undeniable air of innocence.

She scans the room, her eyes narrowing at Jon. “Leave us.”

Jon bristles, but at your nod leaves, taking his post up at the door, looking around before pressing his ear to the crack in the wood.

“Is it not odd that he spends so much time in your chambers?” He hears your aunt ask.

“I do not think so, Uncle Jamie spends much time with you in your chambers, and that is not odd.” You say, your voice light, your tone cheery.

“We are siblings y/n, of course it is not.” Cersei’s words have ice threaded within, and Jon bites back a laugh. You always know just what card to play.

“People will talk y/n, you must stamp out this childish affection you have for him, it will scare away potential suitors.” She scolds, her heels clicking as she moves about the room.

“If it scares them away then they are clearly easily frightened, I do not wish to marry a coward.”

“Do not confuse jealousy with cowardice, sweet girl.”

“I am not.”

“Do not think me a fool, I know it is enjoyable to take a guard to bed, but you are unmarried still, you cannot take such risks.”

He lurches away from your door, leaning against the wall, his head spinning. When was the last time he had drank so much? Surely it has been years, and the occasional glass of wine he has with you was clearly not enough to keep up his tolerance.

It is hot in the hall, his skin feels feverish, and he pushes up the sleeves of his tunic, before realizing how it exposes the bite mark on his arm. He strokes his fingertips over the skin, smiling to himself. Then the guilt comes, barreling towards him like a battering ram. What has he done? Stripped you nearly bare, feasted upon you, and marked you like a savage. What was he thinking? Shame comes next, overtaking the heat lingering from the alcohol, coloring his skin, and worsening the pounding in his head.

He needs to apologize. As soon as Cersei has left your chambers, he will do so. Will ask that you forgive him, that you pretend it had never happened, he was so close, too close, dangerously close to taking more than a simple taste. If you had asked him to bed you? He does not think his strength of will would have held. Perhaps if he was sober. But then he never would have done as he had without the courage gifted to him by an overindulgence of spirits.

He stands behind you as all gathered watch Margaery and Joffrey join hands, smiling and laughing at the players. You pick at your food, your hair curled gracefully, your wrists, fingers, neck, and ears adorned with jewels, a show of wealth, of power by your father.

“Do try to eat, My Lady, or you will not have the stamina for dancing.” He urges softly. It is not dancing he fears you will not have the stamina for, but placating Joffrey. It is his wedding; all must bow and grovel before him.

You do as he asks, averting your eyes when the dancers make a mockery of your father, of his injury during the Battle of Blackwater.

Margaery’s laughter rings high and clear at something Joffrey says, and a dislike for the woman grows in his chest. He knows she is playing a part, but could she play it in a way that does not worsen your pain?

Gifts are brought out, swords, books, gold, jewelry, spices, all tossed aside by Joffrey who demands more and more. It is not until the gifts have run out, and the music begins again, does Joffrey call for you.

You approach the head table, curtsying and congratulating him on his wedding.

“Cousin, I noticed I did not receive a gift from you.” Joffrey says, toying with a wine glass in his hand.

You put on a secretive smile, your mask slipping into place. “Ah, yes well, I gave it to your Lady Wife directly, it is for after the wedding.”

He laughs, beckoning you further forward, his arms outstretched. “A loyal subject you are cousin, your generosity is noted.”

You return his embrace easily, placing a kiss on his cheek. “Your happiness is my own, My King.”

“I shall have to return your generosity. I know my mother spoke to you about lining up some new suitors for you, after the wedding celebrations have finished, I will send out a notice to all our bannermen.”

You blink in surprise but keep a radiant smile on your face. “I thank you, but please do not rush your festivities for me.”

Jon can see the ease in your form when Margaery embraces you as well, holding you a moment longer than needed before pulling back with a bright smile. “You honor us, dear cousin.”

“I hope she strangles him with my gift.” You grumble, once you are far enough away from the head table, smoothing out the nonexistent wrinkles in your gown.

“Her arms are far too small, perhaps her brother will do it for her.” Jon jests, pride swelling in his chest at your small smile.

He watches as you dance, catching your eye mid-twirl, your fingertips barely brushing against your partner’s. You look so beautiful, and he is impatient, bouncing slightly on his heels, knowing that he has claimed your next dance. The song ends and Jon wastes no time, nodding at your previous partner and taking your hand in his, falling in step with you as the music swells, a new song beginning.

“You did not tell me your aunt spoke of new suitors.” He says, his fingers splayed on your midback, hidden among the throng of dancers no one will see.

“I did not because it will not come about, she will forget, or my father will dissuade her.” You say, leaving his arms for a moment to spin out, your skirts flaring around your ankles like waves, the fabric a muted red, the embroidery golden, but duller. It is more bronze, catching the sunlight in a way that reminds him of Grey Wind’s eyes.

You spin back into him, and his hands ghost over your hips before returning to their proper place. “Let us pray he succeeds.”

You smile, a true smile, he knows you love dancing, that it lightens your heart. “If he does not, then will many houses lose their sons? Your blade will taste blood once more?”

He cannot help but smile back, leaning into your game as he lifts you in time with the others. Your weight is nothing, a mere feather to him, and for a moment you look like a goddess suspended in the air. “Yes, I suspect you will find me far more bloodthirsty than before if I must stand by and watch little lordlings fall all over themselves to impress you.”

You giggle, and brush your fingers over his forearm, where the imprint of your teeth still remains, much to his delight. “I think I am perfectly capable of enduring a bout of blood thirst from you.”

He goes to retort, to teasingly call you a little minx, his personal temptress, his beloved and beautiful tormentor, when a giant pie is wheeled out before Joffrey and Margaery.

You stop, along with most of the other dancers, to watch as Joffrey cuts into the pie, doves scatter into the air and servants whisk plates of pie around. A plate is set before your place at the table, from the spot Joffrey had cut into, and you pick it up, but decline another other on Jon’s behalf.

“Perhaps I wished for a slice of pie, My Lady?” He teases, his voice low, mindful of those around you.

“You will not like it; the latticing is flavored with almond oil.” You take a bite, then wrinkle your nose.  “Gods, that is awful, and I like almonds.”

His heart lurches in his chest. You remember he does not like almonds. He had said it only once, during his first year in your service, and yet you remembered.

“Now you see why I avoid them.”

You put your plate down and took a sip of your wine to wash out the taste.

Then Margaery screams, the sound shattering the merry ambiance, startling the wine glass from your hand. Joffrey is choking, his face turning red then purple, his hands at his throat as Margaery screams again. Jon faintly hears Lady Olenna Tyrell’s call for aid, then Joffrey falls, crashes into the table, his face and fine doublet covered in pie. The kingsguard rush forward, the maester as well, lifting the boy-king as Cersei’s eyes sweep around the room. Accusations are flying around the room until finally someone is able to escort the Dowager Queen away.

You sit frozen, your eyes locked on Joffrey, your gown splattered with wine. A flash of gold, Tommen, Jon notes, darts past, unnoticed by you.

“Ser Jon, escort my daughter back to her chambers.” Tyrion orders, his hand on Ser Jamie’s forearm, the far taller man leaning on his brother and the table for support.

Ser Loras has gathered Margaery up in his arms, guiding his sister away from her deceased husband. The guests, still frightened and confused, arguing amongst themselves as the kingsguard try and fail to calm them.

“Tommen, where is Tommen?” Ser Jamie asks, his eyes wide, wild with fright as he vaults over the table.

That startles you into action, and you follow him, screaming your cousin’s name.

Jon moves to follow as well, but Tyrion’s hand on his calf stops him. “Jamie will protect her, if need be, the wheel has already begun to turn.”

His heart is in his throat, hands clenching and unclenching, his eyes constantly moving, scanning the Great Hall.

Finally, you reappear, Ser Jamie at your side, Tommen in his arms, the boy’s face red and wet with tears. You coo over him, his smaller hand in yours as you walk back to the side table, keeping Joffrey’s body out of Tommen’s sight.

Tommen is eight namedays old, but he looks younger held in his father’s arms.

“We should retire to the Queen’s solar; our family must stand together if we are to survive this tragedy.” Ser Jamie says grimly, his jaw set, his eyes a dark shade of emerald like yours are filled to the brim with unspoken emotion.

“Well said, Brother, the pride must stand together.” Tyrion says, giving Tommen a small smile.

Jon falls behind you and your family, hand on the pommel of his sword. Was this part of the plan? He cannot imagine Lord Tyrion would poison his own nephew, no matter how horrid the boy-king was.

The Dowager Queen’s wailing could be heard through the door, and Ser Jamie passes Tommen off to you, the boy now on his feet sniffling, and holding onto your skirts.

“Allow me a moment.” Ser Jamie says softly, easing the door open and slipping inside.

You smooth down Tommen’s hair. “It is alright.”

Tommen nods solemnly, far too solemnly for a child so young. “Now it is.”

You bite your lip and look up towards the ceiling, tears collecting on your lashes.

Jon longs to reach out, to comfort you, but he cannot, not here, not now.

The door to the Dowager Queen’s solar cracks open, and one by one the Lannisters head inside. Jon moves to join you, but Ser Jamie stops him, taking a step further into the hall and closing the door behind him.

“Jon, if I might speak frankly with you?” Ser Jamie looks down at his boots, his eyes red.

“Aye.” A pit forms in his stomach.

“I am sorry.”

“For what, Ser Jamie?”

The eldest Lannister purses his lips, a habit of yours as well, one Jon has never known where it came from, but now he does. “I have not done right by you; I have encouraged you to make the wrong choices.”

If a woman is your heart’s desire, then it matters not if she is married, if you are, if you have vows or codes preventing you. A man must always seize his heart’s desire lest he dies never having known, never having even tried.

Ser Jamie’s words to him those many nights ago as they shared drinks and stories had emboldened him, given him the strength to go to your chambers and act.

“Honor, duty, it will keep your head attached to your neck, and it will keep your heart in your chest where it belongs.” He places his hand on Jon’s shoulder. “I like you Jon, you are a good man, an even better swordsman, but she is my niece…”

“I would never dishonor her.” Jon says, and it is true, he would not, he had slipped, overly indulged himself, but soon Tyrion would announce your betrothal, and his actions would not seem dishonorable, not even in his memories.

Ser Jamie’s grip on his shoulder tightens, and he looks Jon in the eyes, a desperation in them. “I know you will try not to, but y/n is a Lannister, she is more my sister her aunt, than her mother. They are persuasive, stubborn, and beautiful, many men have fallen at their feet, many more will. Ensure you are not one of them, not again.”

“You know?” Jon asks, before he can stop the foolish words from escaping.

“I all but sent you to her that night, I wanted…” He looks away, and Jon is struck by the shame, the agony he sees in the older man’s expression. “I wanted her to know what it is like to be loved. My sister will marry her off to a wealthy house, it is what she thinks best for y/n and there can be no promise of love in her marital bed, but with you? I can see you love her Jon, and I fear she returns your affections, so I hoped that perhaps one night would be enough to sustain her in her years to come. I did not think of the consequences.”

“I did not take her maidenhood.”

Shock ripples across Ser Jamie’s face.

“I will not chance leaving her with a bastard, I will not tarnish her name.”

Ser Jamie’s head drops, a sigh of relief audibly flowing through him. “You are a good man, Jon Snow. Better than I.”

“My Lady speaks of you fondly; she does not think you a bad man.” Jon says, and it is true, you adore your uncle, even if what he has done with your aunt disgusts you.

Ser Jamie smiles sadly and squeezes Jon’s shoulder before he lets go. “My sweet niece, beautiful and perfect, everything like her mother in looks, but in her ability to forgive me? That is all, Tyrion, I do not deserve the grace they give me.”

“Then it rests upon your shoulder to act in a way that makes you deserving of it, does it not?”

Ser Jamie laughs, the sound hollow, stained with grief, worn down by time. “I suppose it does.”

Jon inclines his head towards the door. “Shall we?”

“I must ask you to wait out here, this is a family matter.” Ser Jamie says, his voice soft, almost apologetic.

“I understand.”

 “Worry not, I am sure y/n will bite my head off for separating the two of you.” Ser Jamie then gives him a smile and pulls open the door, disappearing inside.

TL: @mostclevermiss, @solacestyles, @2valentines, @sharknutz, @idohknow, @bdudette, @pluraldoggo

[dystopianam]

A little summary of how the fandoms of the various neighborhoods of The Sims 2 are like

(I would like to say that all the points listed were written for joking, it is not my intention to offend anyone, every neighborhood/fandom deserves love equally and I use stereotypes just for laughs.)

Pleasantview

You are probably a new player, you have only now discovered that you can also play outside the tutorial.

Your favorite family are the Burbs (for some reason) (Currently I discovered that only the Italian fandom is obsessed with the Burbs for some reason??)

You've been obsessed with Bella Goth and have been following her mystery for years. We are in 2024 and you are still looking for or making videos or posts with the title "I FINALLY DISCOVERED THE TRUTH ABOUT THE MYSTERY OF BELLA GOTH" (Spoiler: you didn't discover anything, your theory is full of nonsensical headcanons but you are convinced that it is canon)

Oooh, silly Don ☺️☺️

Dina and Nina are bad grill but they're so hot 😰😰💦💦 🥵🥵🥵

Talk about Bella 24 hours a day

Broke?? Dreamer?? Pleasant?? Who the f they are? D: (You only know the Goths, Calientes and Lotharios because you've only played The Sims 4 so far)

BRANDINAAAAAA (POWER TO WIDOWS!!!)

The only lore you know is that of Bella Goth.

Strangetown

You're a little more "cultured" as a player. You're here because you're passionate about Bella's story, but now you also love the lore of Strangetown and have enough knowledge about the lore of both neighborhoods.

Cactus and Aliens aesthetic.

Obsessed with PascNerv.

Joking about Loki face and piss jokes about Vidcund H24 (The only thing you talk about is that)

RIPP IS THE ONLY VICTIM, TANK IS A STUPID ASSHOLE!!! RIP RIPP 😭😭😭😭

Vidcund sexy man, his favorite color is yellow because he have a bladder problem.

Fans obsessed with Vidcund to the point that it turns a joke into something worrying with people actually fighting over a bunch of pixels with buck hair.

Loki and Circe do BDSM.

VERONAVILLE

The fandom has a large number of 11 members. Half of them are here just for the Tycutio.

They look indignantly at the PV & ST fandom, with a glass of wine in hand, they feel superior but they never knew anything about Shakespeare's works until now.

Ahaha Mercutio raccoon boy 🦝

Ahah Tybalt angry pussy 🐱

KENT IS OUR LORD

Everyone in Veronaville are LGBT+ except Romeo.

Ahahah Gnomeo!

Wait...what are you telling me it's Romeo & Juliet and not Mercutio & Tybalt??? Didn't Shakespeare write a gay tragedy???

Old men yaoi

Old women yuri

VIOLA EXISTS, FUCK YOU ALL, I HAVE A HUGE LIST OF COMPLETELY INVENTED DETAILS ABOUT HER THAT CERTIFY HER EXISTENCE. SHUT UP. NO ONE CAN ASSUME A GENDER FOR HAMLET. IF HAMLET WANTS TO FEEL LIKE AN AUNT AND NOT AN UNCLE YOU JUST HAVE TO STAY MUTE.

Antonio swears on his restaurant, his family and his cappuccino.

Riverblossom Hills, Desiderata Valley & Belladonna Cove

-

[lovelaurs]

my own silly mystreet characters headcanon list!

aphmau:

has the worst "hear me out" takes you'll ever hear. like seriously. she can very much point to a yield sign and say "would" to everyone's dismay.

knows every line in moulin rouge as she is OBSESSED with the film. she and laurance preform the elephant medley as dramaticly as possible whenever they watch it for movie night.

obsessed with pre-endgame marvel movies.

ao3 writer! she writes fics for the nichest of fandoms, so she doesn't get that many reads.

one of the few reliable booktok users you can TRUST will give you a good recommendation to read!

garroth:

obsessed with the movie megamind. like seriously. will talk to you for hours on and WILL defend the "sequel movie" and show because, in fact, they are NOT that bad.

can infodump about a topic he's interested in for hours on end.

actually really smart and kind, but ever since he found out he made zane insecure he tries to tone it down. he used to show off a lot but wants to make sure his brother shines as well.

carries stress balls on him so he doesn't use his strength unnecessarily.

always organizes group movie nights with all his friends.

laurance:

loves to listen to and read AITA (am i the asshole?) reddit posts when bored.

an amazing listener, will listen to someone for hours on end and provide insight when needed (perfect for having a conversation with garroth).

loves gossiping. he has really good hearing so he tends to hear others share secrets nearby. he's like the wine aunt you just KNOW has the most interesting stories to tell.

likes to go on vacations a lot, explaining why he is absent sometimes during big group events.

he sometimes returns home to his family farm to take care of it when his parents are out of town.

he often voluntarily babysits caleb to impress aphmau and garroth with his caretaker skills (he's a showoff).

katelyn:

she loves the show big time rush and watches it in her freetime.

OBSESSED with musical theatre and visits broadway shows often. if the friends she brought along even DARE to suggest skipping the stagedoor? they receive a glare that could kill thousands.

adores singing and often sings in her room when the others aren't home.

continues to play volleyball with her friends after a long day of work (she's a freelance writer).

her music taste can range from alternative music like waterparks to kpop groups like red velvet!

KC:

an ao3 writer as well! she and Aphmau gift eachother fics from time to time! she mostly writes x reader fics for tumblr sexyman.

has taken a liking to cooking outside of baking! she especially likes to grill! she even wears an apron that says "kiss the cook" as well as a hat that says "fish fear me women love me".

watches any and all trending animated shows like tangled the series, adventure time, avatar, etc.

has her own tumblr blog where she writes reviews on shows and posts art! her page is quite popular.

dresses in mainly lolita fashion! she has a flare for the beauty of style and loves to recommend people styles and outfits whenever they go out shopping!

travis:

calls katelyn, zane, and dante hot nonchalantly

has attempted.

dante:

loves to bake and nana teaches him all kinds of recipes to make. he supplies the snacks at movie night.

takes taekwondo lessons. "can never be too careful" he says while living in a pretty standard upper middle class neighborhood. why is he like this.

works at a pet shelter and takes care of the dogs and cats left behind. he adopts any that have been there for years, thus making his house full of many different pets.

the designated driver for whenever they go out to clubs. he doesn't like to drink so he usually takes everyone home by the end of the night.

travis (the actual headcanons):

actually respects others and doesn't harass them like he did early on (that was a weird trope and i HATED it). he's just a flirt and if someone he flirts with flirts back he gets all flustered.

the group gamer. spends hours grinding on all sorts of games just to brag about it on his steam profile. specifically a fan of the spider-man games on playstation.

loves to cosplay! he, aphmau, and nana go to lots of conventions together in group cosplay. their last one was the powerpuff girls! they dragged garroth along and made him mojo jojo.

can recite everything and anything about the ninjago lore. this man is obsessed with any lego product or franchise and has many sets built in his room.

practices talking to himself in the mirror every morning to give him confidence. he has very low self esteem.

aaron:

dream stan.

probably friends with dream.

uhhhh idk probably streams the song "mask" by dream.

minecraft streamer.

dream.

those are all my headcanons! i hope you enjoyed! (slandering mystreet aaron is a passion of mine i'm sorry)

[nothingfromnowherenooneatall]

Sat in my armchair with my cat, a bottle of red wine and Supernatural on my laptop.

When I came out as trans, I thought I’d be a hot goth girl in the club, not ‘sad divorced wine aunt in the body of a 26 year old’ but y’know what?

I was wrong. This shit rocks, I’ve never been so powerful.

The cishets tremble in fear before me, my ascension to divinity is beyond their comprehension.

[redbullgivesyouwingedkuriboh]

hi. if you’re reading this that means it’s my 21st birthday. I had this idea and had to write it down immediately (it’s may 29th. see y’all in just under 6 months) so. yeah. enjoy. happy 21st birthday to me!

The GX Cast In: What they would order for their first legal drink at a bar

DISCLAIMER: blair is excluded from this one cause I can’t fathom her being an adult rn. all characters are considered to be of legal drinking age for the purposes of this post. I do not condone underage drinking. drink responsibly and always call for help if you or a friend are displaying symptoms of alcohol poisoning.

Jaden Yuki: I have determined that Jaden doesn’t like whiskey, but if it’s mixed in something he might be okay with it. a rum and coke would be his go-to. on the rocks, he can’t drink warm liquor.

Chazz Princeton: straight vodka. i have a working theory that the more trauma someone has the better they take shots. (this is not a healthy theory, to be sure, but Chazz certainly qualifies as an observable subject.) he will spit out any food that contains the tiniest amount of carrot but pounds vodka like a champ. he’s definitely tried to do the whole lime and salt thing but found he prefers the burn. I just want him to be okay :(

Dr. Crowler: wayyyyyy back in the day, a very hot, very gay bartender gave him a shot of raspberry schnapps on the house because he “looks like a raspberry schnapps kinda guy”. keeps a bottle of it in his office for feeling nostalgic. atticus has gotten into it more than once, with zero evidence left behind.

Syrus Truesdale: the fruitiest goddamn cocktail you’ve ever seen. there’s a bendy straw and a paper umbrella. probably served out of a pineapple. he does not want to so much as SENSE the alcohol

Alexis Rhodes: whiskey sour. asks for the lemon on the side and squeezes the juice directly into her mouth.

Atticus Rhodes: margaritas, plural. unironically sings “gimme one margarita ima open my legs” the entire time and has to be physically restrained in order to stop him.

Zane Truesdale: he can’t drink, he has a heart condition. however: him and atticus buy cheap wine from the liquor store on oct 31 and sit somewhere outside as the clock ticks over to midnight, making the switch from atticus’s birthday to zane’s. they toast. life is good. zane has palpatations immediately and never drinks again.

Aster Phoenix: wine aunt energy. exclusively drinks wine, but alternates between white and red. his palate changes depending on what he ate. for his twenty first birthday, he probably had steak (s2 fishing incident had me rolling on the ground laughing), which pairs well with cabernet (I think that’s a red) so he’d get red wine.

Yubel: technically has always been legal drinking age? regardless, the strongest whiskey you can find. Jaden dislikes whiskey, though, so has only ever gotten him to take one shot of it. collects the little shooter bottles. it’s really cute to see them all lined up.

Jesse Anderson: fruity cocktail for a fruity bitch. he’d order a sex on the beach, but it would go something like, “I’d like a, ah… ha, alrighty then. A s-sex on the… you know what I mean!”, followed up by Chazz saying, “oh my god he’d like a sex on the beach. jesus.”

Jim Crocodile Cook: not much of a drinker, but he’d also love the fruity cocktails. he would order a strawberry daiquiri. frozen. he’d also do a shot for the hell of it, probably of cheap vodka, and spend the rest of the evening wondering how everyone else is handling that stuff so well.

Axel Brodie: straight fucking gin. no additives, no garnish, no nothing. just axel and a shot glass. somehow never shows signs of being tipsy.

Adrian Gecko: beer. he thinks it makes him look relatable. unironically a beer drinker. probably PBA.

Bastion Misawa: he orders a shot of “your finest whiskey, barkeep”. sniffs it first. takes a little sip. “oh, goodness. no thank you.”

[eldrith]

Would you be willing to tell us anything about your WIPs?

sure! i have so many - like a sick amount lol. so here are just some in no particular order... with songs that have lyrics that fit the plot <3 ive been heavily discouraged as of late and can’t guarantee anything in terms of posting these

about you ; jacaerys x aunt/targ!reader [jace is betrothed to baela], request. ➺ vibes: escaping your family just to tame an untamable beast. saving your cousin's life, almost losing your own. feels like unrequited childhood longing, slow burning; like finding the cherished toy that was lost in your youth. like laughing in the face of death. sounds like 'about you' by the 1975, like the roar of an ancient beast, the buzzing of a fly in the corner of a peaceful room. tastes like herbal tinctures, root of thistle, and milk of the poppy. smells like ancient dragonsmoke and rolls of gauze.

dead men don't sing ; jacaerys x stark!reader, request. ➺ vibes: sweet, but foreboding - like the destiny woven into your bloodline long before your mother’s mother ever had a name. feels like playful love, poorly contained desire; like when the burden placed upon your back is lifted by the one you love. sounds like 'would that i' by hozier, like the northern wind snapping in your ears. tastes like snow on your tongue, remnants of wine upon lips. smells like the woods in winter; like a well-burned hearth.

a golden cage [part iv] ; jacaerys x aunt/targ!reader ➺ vibes: awkward dinner parties, the embarrassment of sprouting affection. feels like an apology in the back of your throat, like the guilt and subsequent relief of looking at someone and feeling like you're looking into a mirror. sounds like 'south' by hippo campus & ‘shake it out’ by florence & the machine; like dramatic declarations and whispered vows. tastes like wine in your cup and the salt of ocean upon lips. smells like incense burnt low and muddled sourleaf tea.

honeyed [part ii] ; jacaerys x queen's advisor!reader. ➺ vibes: flirty, sweet, - resisting something you know is inevitable. feels like the giddiness of camping with an old friend; or the first time riding a dragon; like looking up during a storm just to feel rain hit your smile. sounds like 'pools' by glass animals, like quiet whispers within canvas tents; like the chorus of full tables at Raventree Hall, celebrating royal guests. tastes like wild berries and fresh river water. smells like the leather of dragonsaddles, like wild rosemary.

miscellaneous; these may never see the light of day

untitled ; jacaerys x lady!reader, request. ➺ vibes: yearning for your best friend & knowing them better than the back of your hand. betrothal proposals, envy. feels like lounging in the hot sun, like worrying over looks sent to you across the ballroom; gossiping with your crush’s brother. like the brush of fingers upon your neck, like a gut bubbling in unspoken jealousy. sounds like ‘daydream / wetdream / nightmare’ by saint motel, like butchering the pronunciation of an ancient tongue. tastes like cucumber sandwiches, like hot tea under the summer sun. smells like old library scrolls and cologne oils upon a warm neck.

half-fleshed fic of modern jace x best friend reader ➺ vibes: almost-friends-with-benefits with your best friend - poor drunken choices, insecurities, yearning. feels like not knowing what you are, like washing off the remnants of lipstick upon your neck in the shower. sounds like 'an ode to a conversation stuck in your throat' by del water gap & ‘affection’ by BETWEEN FRIENDS; like the faint whispering when someone sleeps. tastes like guinness on tap, like cookies made at 2am. smells like empty streets after rain, like the warmth of your best friend’s hoodie.

untitled ; jacaerys x wife/betrothed!reader [undecided, v incomplete] ➺ vibes: teasing someone to see them squirm, smiling politely to hide a smirk. feels like the excitement of a chase, the warmth of desire; like tugging on curly tresses. sounds like the scraping of silver cutlery against plates, like breathless pleads against sweaty skin - like 'silvertongue' by young the giant. tastes like an eager tongue pressing against your own, sweet like blueberry pie. smells like blown out candles, scented oils on pillows.

untitled ; jacaerys x wife!reader ➺ vibes: giddiness & good news. happiness, the blossoming flower that sprouts from the seed of sorrow. feels like sand under your feet, like arms around your waist. sounds like the shaking of pride in a voice, like ‘jackie and wilson’ by hozier. tastes like salt of tears, like rosemary cakes. smells like home.

& maybe a nsfw version of the 5 love languages with jacaerys but who knows

[stargazing15]

What a wonderful wedding

Summary: What if you had caught one of your cousin's wedding guests' attention, but you had been too busy helping out with her wedding to notice him? The bride comes to the rescue.

Warnings: reader described as a small person, fluff

A/N: got longer than expected, woospie daisies

Enjoy!

So fucking perfect. That was how you could describe your cousin's wedding up until now.

Rebecca, or Becs as you always called her, was the cousin you were closest to, you two were basically sisters. She and her newly wed husband Rueben were the cutest couple possible. They actually made you believe in love again.

After the break up with your longtime boyfriend, she moved hell and earth to be with you, to comfort you.

It might have been a year already, but you were somehow still stuck in your post-break up slumber. Knowing you, but most of all her bridesmaids, Rebecca had asked for your help during the preparations of the wedding and even today, the big day, you were helping out. You had to admit the result was exactly what you had hoped for and the preparatios helped wonderfully getting you out of your slumber.

The ceremony had the most romantic scenery you had seen, with a lot of thanks to yourself. Before Rebecca arrived, Rueben and his friends were stealing the show wearing their Full Dress uniforms. You took a quick glance at them, who doesn't love a man in uniform, to go back to perfecting the last little details before your cousin would appear. Your eyes quickly crossed paths with one of the very hot groomsmen. 'Probably a coincidence, just looking around like I was', you thought, only with your heart skipping a beat. This only lead to you not noticing those two eyes following your every move, lingering to talk to you, hoping he would catch your attention too.

The men might have stolen everyone's attention for a bit, but when your cousin made her grand entrance, guided by your very proud looking uncle, your heart skipped a little beat. She looked stunning in her fairytale-like wedding dress. Her hair styled simply but with a couple of details to make her whole appearance marvelous. But it was her smile that was the last detail to complete her angelic look.

You were definitely not the only one noticing her beautiful look on her day. Your aunty and uncle had happy tears escaping down their cheeks and your granny was glooming of happiness and talking to your granddad in heaven, who also was very happy as the sun was shining today. But most important of all, the from, the look on Rueben's face when he saw his bride was the look every bride would want on her special day. He gripped one his groomsman next to him when Rebecca made her entrance. His smile matched Rebecca's and his eyes were glued on her until she stood in front of him. This man was after 8 years still very in love with his bride-to-be. That look in his eyes made you believe again that real love did exist, only you had to find the right person.

Now, an hour into the party -by the way, the first dance was amazing, insert emoticon with star-eyes.- after you were finally able to ditch your aunts and uncles, you had made it to the dancefloor. Becca had obliged you, because, yes, you were still busy making sure the the party was going smoothly.

"Now relax and enjoy, you already have done too much and it has been sooooo perfect! I love my bridesmaids a lot, but they would all together never able to pull off anything like the perfect party you have given Rueben and me. So please please please, enjoy." She took your hand in hers and was on her way dragging you to a group of men, with some woman around the group trying to catch any of their attention.

"Oh my god Becs, those groomsmen earlier, they were looking so hot in their uniforms." The couple of wines in your system were making you spill the things you normally would only tell her on a girl night.

"How much wine did you have? And yes I've got to admit, men in uniform are eyecandy." She sang with her eyes locked on her hubby.

"Just two, how would I have ever survived uncle Fred's ramble about politics."

"Okay, you have a valid point, I would probably need a whole bottle to survive him," Rebecca laughed, "so, anyone of them catching your eye?"

"Uh, not really, no." Rebecca stopped and looked at you with an questionable expression that made you laugh. "Okay, okay, miss Fitch, the one with the moustache." You admitted.

"Oooh Bradley, good choice. And miss Fitch, sweetie, I love the sound of it, still a bit unreal, but so wonderful. Come on."

The second you were about to approach the group, you saw him arrive back. But he was holding hands with a beautiful woman. She had beautifully styled dark brown hair and a very beautiful body. She was a thousand more beautiful than you. So, he was taken, with his looks it wasn't actually a surprise.

With your mood now taken a major hit, you hung your head a little lower, suddenly the floor was very interesting. Rebecca wiggled her and your body between the men and nudged Rueben for his attention.

"Guys, guys, there is someone you all need to meet. This day wouldn't have been this wonderful without her, she organized almost everything. I know it must have been hell with me being away a lot and Becca's mind being distracted too. Guys meet Becca's cousin."

You heard your name echo a couple of times, but you only heard the echo coming from the man with the moustache. Fuck, that voice. It was so deep and masculine, that you had a hard time getting your eyes off him. You really tried not to focus only on him, knowing he was taken. But it was so hard to fight it.

Rueben introduces them all to you, except for the blond one, Jake or Hangman, he was very quick to introduce himself before Rueben even had the chance. So Bradley and Natasha, they looked good together. Only weird they weren't holding hands anymore.

After a little smalltalk with Jake, you excused yourself from the group to get a new drink.

"Hey, everything okay sweetie?"

"Yes Becs, just a little overwhelmed." You tried to put up a genuine smile. "Go have fun with your friends, I think the are trying to get you attention."

"Oh God, I'm going to try to get them away from Rueben's friends. I do not want them to interfere with my life with Rueben. I love them, but you know how they are."

"Yeah, I think I understand." You chuckled. "See ya later Becs, have fun!" And off she was, and you finally had some rest at the bar.

You were playing a little with the drink chart as you were contemplating what to get.

"So, I see you escaped from Hangman." That voice came up from behind you.

"Oh, hi, uhm, Bradley right? I just needed some ... rest, the group is a lot." You smiled nervously.

"They can be, so, what you're going to get, Shortcake?" That nickname you hear earlier tonight. Only coming from Bradley you didn't mind.

"You too?" You curiously asked.

"I came up with the name, Hangman stole it."

"But why though?"

"Well, shortcake, if you let me join you, I might let you know." Bradley was teasing you already and letting a small smirk appear on his face, his moustache twitching a bit

"Uh, okay, 2 questions for you first."

"Shoot." Damn his his big brown orbs, they were staring at you and by the looks of it he wasn't going to look at anything or anyone else. Dispite...

"Okay, doesn't your other half mind that you are -"

"Oh no, that, uh haha," was he making fun of you? "I'm not, I'm not in a relationship with anyone, yet."

You were baffled by that. "But, earlier? You were holding hands. I can't follow."

"Oh, you saw that, is that why I suddenly saw your smile fading? You were shining throughout the whole evening and when you joined us ... shit, that wasn't supposed to-"

"So you are dating her?" Disappointment was written all over your face, even more now than before, was he really trying something with you when he already has a girl?

"No, I'm not dating Nat, she was helping me out to get through that other group without getting inappropriately touched everywhere. In fact she has been nudging me all day to talk to you." A smile appeared on his face when mentioning you.

"Oh my god." You hid your head in your hands, trying to become invisible of embarrassment. Only to accidentally throw the drinking chart at Bradley. If only that sinkhole from your wish earlier could appear now under your feet...

"Shortcake, look at me," Bradley took your face out of your hands and kept your face into his hands until you looked at him. A little tear was visible and Bradley immediately got rid of it. "Rueben and Rebecca, actually Rebecca, talks about you a lot, with pictures sometimes. I really became intrigued by this cousin she always mentions. Then she mentioned that luckily now ex-douche and I just started to wish him away from you. And when I saw you for the first time in real life today, I felt something click. I regret it so much not coming with Rueben and Rebecca to punch the douche in the face, no one treats a girl like that. That was what I felt the first time I saw you, maybe with a couple of heart flutters. But you had a second question." Bradley was rambling, he knew it, but he had to get it out before you would say something.

"I, oh, wow, I need a second. Wait, you are genuinely interested in me? You don't even know me." You said while pointing at yourself. Bradley nodded in response. Every single feeling of sadness disappeared to make place again for the sparkly and shiny mood you had.

"Well maybe I feel like I know you, just through Rebecca. So if you give me a chance at least, to get to know each other, for real."

"Okay then, second question, where are your uniforms? Not that I mind the tux." A little smile appeared on your face as you felt some butterflies start to form in your belly.

"We changed after the ceremony, not to get into trouble with the Navy if we would get drunk or do something stupid. Not that I was planning on. Shit, I didn't mean it to come out like I was planning on doing any of that." Bradley hoped you weren't noticing his nervousness, he really didn't want to start off on the wrong foot. He still remembered when Rebecca and Rueben were talking about you, that you deserved to be loved and cherished. Bradley didn't know you yet, but after seeing you for the first time made him believe in love at first sight (let's forget for a moment he was interested in you when they were talking about you).

"It's okay, I get what you mean. So, since we're at the bar, can I get you something? My treat." You joked.

"Ooh, the lady is buying, a beer is fine."

"A beer and a red wine please."

After getting your drinks Bradley walked you to a calmer spot outside. Rebecca noticed Bradley's subtle hand on your back and shot you wink and a thumbs up.

Finally away from the spying aunties and uncles, the obnoxious Jake but more importantly alone with Bradley, well kind of, some other couples were outside too. You thanked yourself for placing these romantically decorated benches outside, where Bradley and you sat down.

You and Bradley talked and talked and talked until your drinks were empty. You learned Bradley was just as domestic as you, you both still loved going out now and then. But a movie on the couch with a snack was on top of your favorite activities-list. Truth to be told, everything what your ex missed, you discovered in Bradley.

"So ... Shortcake." You tried again on the topic.

"Yes shortcake."

"Oh come on tell me!"

"Those big eyes, shortcake, you are really desperate to know. Well, if I must. So first of all, I really love shortcakes. My mom used to make them a lot. They are layered. And with every layer, it gets better and better. And the way my mom made them, they were cute, small cakes, kind of like you."

"Are you making fun of my height?" You asked trying to look serious, while you were melting on the inside for the teddy bear-looking hunk next you. Bradley's reaction immediately went from a lovesick sixteen year old to one filled with shock. Until you couldn't hold back your laughter anymore. "You are easy to mess with, I like the nickname, but only coming from you." You shuddered at the end of your sentence when a cold breeze came up.

"I'm such an idiot, you are cold, here take my jacket." It was way too big, but oh so warm and it smelled like Bradley. Were you suddenly feeling a little intoxicated from alcohol, or was is because of Bradley's scent? You had a couple of wines spread over the evening, but it was his scent that withdrew you from reality. The heavenly mixture of wood and that hint of citrus guided it's way through your nostrils straight to your brain. It made you feel like you were on this fluffy cloud you never wanted to leave. Without noticing it, you moved the jacket closer to your nose, loving the scent a little too much.

"That cold?" Bradley asked, not noticing you were basically sniffing his jacket.

"Oh, sorry, it, uh, feels good and warm." And smells like you... You smiled awkwardly.

Bradley stood up and took your hand in his. "Well, I know other ways to get warmer."

Did he just suggest you two... "Uh"

"Come on, let's dance!" Let's say the intoxication on Bradley's scent was making your mind wander off to other ways to heat up.

Once inside, you kept Bradley's jacket on, just letting the competition know he is interested in you. A little insurance never hurt.

Your bodies stayed close while dancing, leaving just enough space for Bradley to show off his moves.

Until that typical cinematographic scene, a body collided in your back, so you got smashed into Bradley's strong arms. His eyes worriedly glued to yours. But his arms around you was what made loose contact with reality for a moment. His lips were moving and a sound was coming from between his lips. But you were unable to hear it, some automatic reaction made you nod when his lips stopped moving.

The worried expression changed into something sweet, his brows lowered again and this spark reappeared in his eyes. Were you melting? Like for real, were you like a chocolate statue that starts to get liquid when warmed up? You already started to feel some drops forming. Was this it? The end?

"- I am a grandpa." You got snapped out of your trance. You were not melting, everything was okay. Wait what?!

"Huh?"

"Shortcake, did I really needed to say something weird to get you back to earth?"

Awkward! This voice in your head was screaming and laughing, but so were you, and Bradley too. Without thinking you hid your head in his chest, still being locked in his arms.

"Oh my god! Sorry." You immediately withdrew your head and tried to look in his eyes.

"You're a cute one, you know that? Please, tell me you are always like this?"

"Unfortunately for me, yes." You said to yourself while facepalming yourself mentally, again.

After talking somewhat more in a quieter corner, discovering you were both staying in the same hotel, the fatigue of it being 5 am already started to get the better of you.

"Not only are you just a cute one, your yawn is cute too. Tired too?"

You nodded. "Yeah, if you don't mind, I am going to call it a night or day already."

"Me too, plus, I think the others have also left already. Would you mind if I walk you back to the hotel? You know, since it is the same one." Bradley was cursing himself for being this awkward around you.

"Lead the way." You snuck your arm in the small hole Bradley left for your arm. It was a nice feeling you both had on the way back.

"So, this is me, thank you walking me. It was really nice meeting you."

"Yeah same, so uhm," Bradley moved closer to you, with his eyes locked with yours. "I hope I have been en reading this right." He kept on moving closer. His face was now extremely close to yours as you felt your beating rapidly. And what you hoped for happened. You felt Bradley's lips on yours. Immediately you felt the butterflies awaken again in your tummy from earlier when the two of you were talking.

"Shit" Bradley suddenly pulled away from the kiss, "sorry, I was going to wait till I asked you out on a date." Your expression went from horror to relief in not even a second from the moment Bradley explained his little shock. Was he even real? Gentlemen still do exist.

"Oh Bradley, if you noticed, I kissed back. Maybe I was secretly hoping for it." You smiled a little bit shyly at him.

"Thank God, but ... an official first date, does that still sound appealing to you?" Was this fighter pilot, who you always thought to be though and cool, being nervous? (You hadn't noticed the other occasions earlier the evening, being to busy melting for him)

"Since we kissed on our unofficial first date, let's forget about the alcohol that encouraged us, I look forward going out on a real date."

You exchanged numbers and bid goodnight with a last kiss on the lips.

Knock knock. Knock knock.

Probably a drunk jokester you thought. You tiredly made your way to the door.

"Oh, Bradley hi." Bang, in a second you went from zombie-mode to fully awake, adrenaline running through your veins. Noticing your attire, you tried to cover up your pj's.

Bradley was standing awkwardly with his right hand resting on top of his head in front of you.

"Hi, uh, weird question. Okay, wait, before I ask, I really planned to use a different timeline. I swear. But, can I sleep here in your room? Jake, I was stupid enough to share a room with him, he, uh, has someone over."

"Oh. Yes, of course." You kept on staring at Bradley. In contrast to the party, his tie now in his hands, a couple of the top buttons opened. He was incredibly hot in his uniform, but damn, looking like that? Extremely sinful.

"Then, can I come in?"

"Oh my god, sorry. Yes" You quickly made your way back to the bed, still realizing you were just wearing pj's, trying to hide underneath the blankets.

"I"ll take the couch."

**

Shuffle ... ten seconds later, shuffle another ten seconds later, shuffle. And that went on for a couple minutes.

"Enough Bradley. Neither of us is going to sleep if you keep wiggling like a worm on the couch. Hop in the bed, you're clearly too big for that couch."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes"

"I sleep in my boxers, so, still sure shortcake?"

"Yes, still sure, so hop in. At least, if you can behave."

Bradley didn't need to get told twice. He slipped out of the trousers and shirt of his tux and quickly joined you in the bed. The temperature under the sheets immediately went up. It was unexpectedly comfortable with him next to you.

"Goodnight Bradley."

"Goodnight shortcake." Bradley planted a little kiss on top of your head. "Oh, and I will behave, my mama thought me to treat ladies right, we are going a date first." Maybe he didn't mind he couldn't sleep in his room tonight, he'll thank Jake later for that. Now he is going to enjoy having you close to him.

It didn't take long before the two of you dozed off to a good sleep. During the night your bodies shifted closer to each other, with eventually Bradley's arm wrapped around you.

This was the start of something beautiful, with the credits going to Rebecca and Rueben and of course Jake for sending Bradley to your room.

END

Taglist: @cycbaby @mrsjaderogers @mavrellover91 @bradleybeachbabe @iamdannyday @rhirhikingston @luckyladycreator2 @xoxabs88xox @angelbabyange @mak-32 @jstarr86

Tagform

[not-poignant]

Sorry this is so long I literally cannot help myself:

I’ve been a reader on ao3 for a long time. This year, for the sake of giving my brain something new and in order to be a mysterious hottie on the metro, I’ve challenged myself to read some published books. It has been a really fun and very interesting experience. I could write essays of personal and literary reflections.

But, favorite author mine, one difference I did not expect, and in hindsight it should have been obvious, was the vast, essentially ideological difference in what is called smut.

I started reading the Court of Thorns and Roses series and it’s good, I’m having a good time. But the thing is, everyone calls it faerie smut. And I guess it must be. When I heard faerie smut and decided to give the series a try, my faerie smut background came from ao3, namely fae tales and the ice plague.

“With each thrust I felt his love and saw the stars” really has nothing on “my entire family burnt and now my lover has his hands in my mouth and up my ass while he heats me up so thoroughly I’m basically delirious and then our sex mentor wine aunt was hungry and told me I was doing good while he drank my blood and his lover who is also the king casually reads nearby likely with bits of flesh stripped off him as an act of sacrificial love.”

The thing is, the sex scenes I’ve read in Sarah J. Maas’s series don’t really… do much. Regardless of crazy scenario, essentially every of the many erotic scenes in the fae tales verse either moves the plot forward, is essential to character development, or showcases emotional intimacy. (Which, tangent, is why you’re more recent works that generally showcase way less sexual content still feel so similar because the plot is still moving forward, characters are still developing, and the emotional intimacy is still so delectable.)

So anyway, reading book books has been really nice and a surprisingly reflective experience. I kinda forgot how little is considered scandalous by so many.

(And also, compared to ao3 which I usually read on my phone, it’s very difficult to read physical books while horizontal. Another plus for ebooks?)

Hi hi anon!

I'm glad you're enjoying the experience of reading 'book' books! :D I've heard many good things, and while I'm not likely to read it (I don't read cishet m/f if I'm not being forced to), I think it's awesome that it's going so viral and getting lots of folks into fantasy :D

As for the ACOTAR sex scenes, I haven't read them, but I feel like they fall into a certain kind of spicy sex scene being written right now that falls under 'explicit' for readers not used to seeing this stuff in fantasy, but absolutely kind of doesn't for people used to reading smut on AO3.

I find for myself, I can't handle these kinds of sex scenes because they're often over in like one or two pages and they feel very empty to me. They're not empty to many readers and I'm not trying to say they're empty overall, I just need a lot more emotionality, meatiness, and often character-based stakes.

Or I think about it this way: I've written sex scenes that are easily 6,000-9,000 words long. That's a tenth of a written standard-length novel. That's too long for novels. This is why you never see these kinds of sex scenes published anywhere except for erotica, and in erotica there's pressure to make the sex scenes shorter anyway. The only place where I know I can safely write sex to the length and breadth I want to is in serials, on AO3.

Authors in the mainstream book-writing world are kind of forced into a shape that fits the length of the book they're writing. If they write three very deep/lengthy sex scenes of the length that I write at, firstly they'd be thrown into the erotica dungeon (can no longer be searched for on most distribution websites), and secondly, that means they lose a lot of space for writing story, which for many of these writers does not happen during or because of sex scenes.

Authors can still sometimes write very hot sex scenes in a few hundred words, or one or two pages, don't get me wrong! But the vibe is different. I've never really liked sex scenes in anything published except for erotica, because it often feels... idk, like for example this line:

"“With each thrust I felt his love and saw the stars”"

Idk if this is canon to the book, but for me this means nothing. Why is the character feeling this way? What is it about the thrusts? What is it about the pose? Is it about eye contact? (And is this innately comfortable? How neurotypical is this character?) Undulation? Does he linger at the end? Is it because he circles his hips a certain way? Because that's not love, that's just talent.

I suppose for me, as a reader, I need explanations that let me understand why emotional shifts are happening in a sex scene. In the same way that I would need them in any other character change.

Other people I think can suspend their disbelief better and think 'wow that sounds amazing and hot.' I'm like 'I don't get it.'

And that's very much a me-problem! It's just a me-problem that I think I share with quite a lot of other readers, which is why we're all out here enjoying much longer sex scenes and then realise we can't really find them anywhere except for like... AO3, and some manhwa and manga and published erotica lmao. (I do think you're actually also more likely to find it in like f/f and m/m of any genre).

Anyway, on the flipside, some people find my sex scenes way too long and don't see the point. So all this stuff needs to exist for everyone! I just yeah, really like sex scenes where character stuff is happening. I can't write them otherwise, likely because I'm ace, and don't really find 'look at hot body = want to have sex' a thing that's relatable.

[nerdieforpedro]

Finally Away

Chapter 2 of “This is the Neighborhood Din” Series

Din Djarin (Modern AU) x Sierra Harris (plus size OFC)

This fic is for readers 18+ MDNI

Word Count: about 3k

Warnings: Divorce, domestic violence (both referenced and actual), burns, scratches, blood, stalking, description of injuries, self-esteem issues, matchmaking?, domestic fluff, soft moments and hugs

Summary: Sierra has arrived to her aunt's home and meets their new neighbors Din and little Grogu. She didn't plan on her ex-husband showing up before her long drive - that man decided to ensure she had his disgusting marks on her arms.

Notes: In this chapter there is domestic violence and descriptions of Sierra's injuries as well as past incidents with her ex-husband. Likely will be mentioned again but not with injuries. There's also a burn mentioned as well that Sierra caused.

Special thanks to @pedroshotwifey for beta reading and @julesonrecord for having these resources in their Cherry Wine fic. It’s an excellent read, just make sure to review the warnings as it is marked DDNE.

I would have posted this earlier but I didn’t get a notification about the poll results. 😭 My bad.

Domestic Violence resources (In case you or someone you know need them):

United States

Canada

United Kingdom

European Union

Main Masterlist/ Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) Masterlist/ This is the Neighborhood Din Series

The drive from Maryland to New York State hasn’t been that bad, just so long. Nearly seven hours. Sierra had planned to leave earlier than she did. It was her last day in her apartment, she was going to leave the keys since all her belongings she planned to take were already in her car. It had been six months since the divorce was final but a year and a half that she had lived apart from Darius.

Sierra knew he hadn’t cared about her, at least the last few years of their marriage, not after those beatings started. She didn’t stay because she loved him, falling out of love with him was at the first punch. She’d been confused at first, he’d never been violent before, always kind. But when Sierra thought on it after the second bloody nose, she wondered if this was happening because something was wrong with her. When he hit her and this time, kept hitting her in her stomach after that last time he came home, she let him sleep and then poured boiled hot grits on him. She’d already looked into getting an apartment by herself and was going to stay with a friend for a week until it was ready. Darius never did press charges against her or told anyone how he got those burns on his abdomen and chest, Sierra assumed that he was embarrassed that his wife who he had been beating got one over on him. After she left, she needed to try and figure out what was next and who to turn to for help.

Thankfully, her aunt Johnnie Mae was more than willing to take her in after she’d been able to save some money by living in that cheap apartment. It almost made the hour long commute to the middle school she taught at worth it. Saving money was her priority so she would have some money to give her Aunt for letting her stay with her outside of New York City. The plan was working, she was able to get rid of clothes and stuff she didn’t absolutely need. That way, everything would fit in her small blue Nissan. Her aunt had said that she didn’t need to offer her any money, let alone rent while she stayed with her but that’s not how she was raised. Before they passed, Sierra’s parents stressed being responsible, paying your debts and taking care of yourself. She’s failed at that last one.

That morning, all she had to do was get up use the bathroom before leaving and leave. That was all the science teacher had planned. She even had a new job set up at a middle school substitute teaching next week. She was open to picking up a part time job until she could get a full time one as keeping a work history going and money coming is was more important than ever.

The barrier to her leaving on time was Darius himself. He sat outside of her small blue car waiting for her. Darius was a few inches taller than Sierra but slender and full of mean streaks. One would think a so called ‘short king’ as he often called himself would be a bit nicer to anyone, let alone his wife but no. The bastard beat Sierra, leaving bruises, cuts and made sure never to break or sprain anything enough to need an urgent care or hospital visit. He left to be with his mistress a month after Sierra burnt him with hot grits as he lay sleep in bed.

The divorce as far as property went was split down the middle, even though the end of their relationship was anything but amicable. Sierra hadn’t see him since the divorce decree was handed down in court, but now he sits here blocking her path away from him finally, no longer tied to him.

“What do you want?” The venom in her voice is clear as he moves toward her.

“Just wanted to see you off. I mean, we had something special for a while there you know.” He attempted to touch her face and she smacked his hand away. Darius grabbed it and her other hand as she struggled against him. “You always fought me on everything after becoming a full time teacher. Being full of yourself. Now you’re going to be fat, broke and alone. You thought it was hard to get married before? No man’s going to be looking for you!”

“This is what you came here for Darius?! Just to try and intimidate me?” Sierra pushed forward, making his legs hit the bumper of a sedan parked next to her, he fell back, but grabbed her forearms hard, digging his fingers into them. She yelled and tried to shake him off but he dug deeper. “You’re a sad bastard who left me for a woman who’s now left you for an old rich man. She’s riding his dick somewhere in Italy!” Her knee connected with his crotch and his grip loosened. Sierra was able to wiggle free and run toward the driver’s side of her car, quickly getting in. She started driving only checking her arms when she finally stopped at a McDonald’s.

Her caramel skin was a deep red, nearly purple with blood as he broke the skin on both arms. She made a stop at a CVS and got some bandages to clean and wrap her arms before continuing on her drive. After a few more hours she stopped crying and determined that he wasn’t worth it, he hadn’t been for quite some time. Just be glad you’re no longer tied to him. If he shows up again, I can use a brick on him or whatever I have nearby. Maybe I need to carry one of those switchblades. As she crossed over from Pennsylvania to New York, she wondered how she’d hide the bandages from her Aunt. She hadn’t shared the full story with her, only that he’d become distant, they would get in shouting matches and the cheating. Sierra hadn’t told her about the physical abuse. She didn’t know how to explain why it went on for so long. She barely wanted to tell the one friend she felt safe enough to move in with for that week. Thankfully she didn’t judge her, just supported Sierra. She was eternally grateful for that.

Pulling up to her aunt’s home she was completely unprepared for the man she saw. The opposite of her ex-husband was sitting on her aunt’s porch. Putting his shirt back on. No one said he had to. Sierra thought, her aunt let go of her and pinched her shoulder.

“You’ll burn a hole into the man if you keep staring at him like that.” Ms. Harris teased.

“How could I not look at him? Who is he?” Sierra inquired. She grabbed her purse from the car and walked over with her aunt to the porch.

Din started to get a bit cold after finishing his glass of water and stood to slip his shirt back on. He still felt her eyes on him and turned to see Ms. Harris walking to the house with a caramel beauty who’s calling his new neighbor ‘auntie.’ Maybe she was just here visiting, his eyes cut to her car before focusing back on her as they drew closer to the porch. She’s staying for a little while at least, I’m not in the market for just a short time though.

As she made her way up the stairs, her black shorts bunched between her thighs. In an effort not to stare, his eyes scanned her legs which were thick and jiggled along with the rolls of her belly that it appeared like she was trig to hide under her large purple t-shirt. She was wearing a black sweatshirt which he suspected her would find equally soft arms covered by the fabric. Her face appeared tired, he assumed from the long drive, but there seemed to be a remnant of sadness in her honey eyes with some redness in her cheeks. Her hair was in tight pun with a matching purple scarf tied at the top of her head. It wasn’t a handshake she offered but a small wave and Din couldn’t help but flash a toothy grin and chuckle.

“H-Hi. I’m Sierra, nice to meet you. Seems you’ve met my Aunt Mae already.” Though clearly nervous, her voice had a dulcet tone to it that had Din exhale to keep from clearing his throat to make it too obvious. He raised his hand and returned her small wave, stepping forward to close the distance. He looked down at her, keeping his grin.

“I’m Din. Your aunt, Ms. Harris has been so welcoming to me and my son Grogu. It’s our first day here. Pleasure to meet you Sierra.”

He is taller and broader up close and his hands are….this man appears to be massive in every sense. Even his voice feels like it’s wrapping around me. Am I okay? My shorts are halfway in my crotch and I know my eyes are puffy and red along with my entire face. This is one of the days, I wish I had more melanin so everything from earlier in the day wouldn’t be on my damn face.

“Well dear, you mind helping me make some dinner while Din keeps an eye on the kids? You missed lunch.” Ms. Harris elbows Sierra in the side and she winces as her aunt’s arm grazes her forearm.

“Sure, lead the way. Um, are you staying for dinner Din?” Sierra asked and Din nodded with Johnnie Mae adding that of course he was, he bought her groceries as a thank you for watching little Grogu for a few hours.

“I really do appreciate it Ms. Harris. I was able to get a lot done in the house so we’ll be set for our first night in the house. The kids we be fine until dinner’s ready.” Rolling his shoulders back, he puts his hands in his pockets and his grin becomes a smile. Sierra’s lips part slightly but no sound comes out, she really hopes nothing came out. It didn’t but her aunt is ever watchful of their interaction and leads her niece into the kitchen. Din turns to the side to watch Sierra walk away, paying special attention to her wide hips and plump backside. I think I should find out how long she’ll be here. If she needs to leave, maybe I can convince her to come back through and visit. Such thoughts were distracting Din from the children and he heard a cry. Delia was sitting in the grass giving a dirty look to both Grogu and Quinton. “Well, I am a man of my word. Let me see what’s going on.” As he made his way down the stairs, Johnnie Mae peeped at the door to Mae sure Din was out of earshot.

“Tell me what you think, I mean I was going to set you up with that boy Leon because he seemed nice, but Din is a grown man. Good and grown man dear. I don’t see a ring and-“

“It’s too soon I can’t even think about that right now. Especially today, I look an entire mess.” And that rat bastard fucked up my arms. Even if my arms were fine, I’m not even wearing my cute leggings. Damn.

“I didn’t ask you all that girl.” Johnnie Mae got out a pot and threw in some chicken broth followed two bags of vegetable medleys complete with carrots, broccoli and cauliflower. “I asked you what you thought. I understand you might not feel like you’re ready. Doesn’t mean you can look.”

Sighing, Sierra washed her hands, got the chicken out of the fridge and started seasoning it before plopping it in a frying pan to cook in some butter. “He’s the complete opposite of my ex-husband. Which is entirely welcome. I just don’t know if I can….” Johnnie Mae hip bumped her niece as an indication of getting a non-answer. Sierra sighed again, “I’d climb him like a tree auntie. I’m not ready, but if I was at all. He would be the first choice.”

“Just need to know your tastes have changed. No more assholes Sierra.” Johnnie Mae laughed and so did Sierra, shaking her head. On that she agreed. The pair finished up dinner making homemade chicken noddle soup. Something that everyone ate two bowels of. Din and Grogu ate three. Delia and Quinton were picked up by their parents when the sun started setting around five in the evening. They thanked Ms. Harris and hugged her before introducing themselves to Din. They suggested that Ms. Harris could watch little Grogu before and after school. That way Grogu could play with Delia and Quinton as they likely were going to go to the same elementary school. The family departed leaving Din, Grogu, Johnnie Mae and Sierra.

Din suggested he could wash the dishes and Sierra rejected his help because he was a guest. Technically she was too, but she’d be living here. It was decided that he would wash and she would dry.

Grogu found a comfy spot on the couch as Ms. Harris sat next to him. “Little G, we’re going to watch a classic me and you. Look at this.” She turned on ‘Winnie the Pooh.’ Ms. Harris started singing along and Grogu joined in, bobbing their heads side to side.

Din’s hands were covered in soapy water, scrubbing the dishes before rising them and handing them to Sierra to dry. They chatted about the merits of Pooh and Piglet’s adventures. They laughed that before the episode was over, both Ms. Harris and Grogu were asleep on the couch and arm wrapped around each other. Din snapped a few pictures with his phone. Sierra hesitated, but asked if he could send her the pictures he took. Din was going to suggest that she take her own, but understood that she was asking for his number without saying it. Trying to be subtle. That’s cute of her. He agreed and send her the pictures, the small smile on her face felt like a part of a curtain had been pulled back.

Back at the sink, dishes slowly made their way into the cabinets. Sierra’s sleeves were getting wet and it made her arms itchy so she pulled them up, and reached for the plate Din was handing and she took the plate. She started drying and looked down at her forearms, some blood had soaked through. Panic set in for the second time today, though not from fear of her safety. Instead it was that the easy laughter would stop, there was nothing funny about her arms or what had made them that way. Din stopped washing and wiped his wet hands on his pants.

“You don’t have to tell me how it happened. Just…are you safe Sierra? Is the person who did that after you?” Keeping his voice flat was the only way not to yell, he shouldn’t yell at her. It would be misdirected. It looked like they were fresh maybe even today. She looked up at him and the brightness was gone from them, only panic. Is that why she came here? How fall far had she driven? She did seem to have a lot of stuff in her car.

“No. Thankfully I’ll never see him again. He has no reason to find me. That ended six months ago. I’m…” Closing her eyes, she swallowed the saliva building in her throat. “Divorced. Six months ago. He was…just the worst. Could you just…”

“I’m not going to act like I didn’t see them. If don’t want me to say anything it’s not mine to tell. But does she know?” His eyes shift over to the couch before refocusing on her. He’d rather know this bastard’s name, just in case but she didn’t say it and now isn’t the time to press. He hesitated, but placed a hand between her shoulder blades. Sierra flinched but when Din began to pull his arm back she turned and reached for his hand.

“Please don’t do that. I’m not fragile. I know you’re not going to do anything I’m sor-“

“Don’t apologize. I shouldn’t have touched-“

“Then you don’t say sorry either.” Sighing, she looked down at his hand and held it as to shake it. “Let’s start over. Please Din and I’ll tell her. I kinda have to with these.” A weak smile matched a soft chuckle. He missed the smile he’d seen when he sent her pictures a few minutes ago. Shaking her hand, he nodded.

“I won’t apologize then, but I disagree, you are fragile. It’s a fact for now. You won’t always be, but it’s okay.” He didn’t release her hand. “Is it alright if I hug you and then take a look at your arms? You have more bandages?” Sierra nods and doesn’t speak, she folds her arms around Din’s torso. His hands returned to her back, rubbing it slowly and started stepping side to side, rocking her. Short whimpers came from her, quieting as the pair swayed.

“I have more in the car, but I can take care of that. Just a little more. A little while longer.” Sierra was conflicted in asking him to continue to hold her, but she didn’t want to let go. She felt it was selfish to ask this of him upon just meeting him today. He just moved in with his son no less. That’s plenty on his plate.

Din didn’t answer her. He didn’t release her either. They continued to remain in each other’s arms as Johnnie Mae peered over her shoulder from the couch. Now truly aware of why her niece has said she’s not ready, she wouldn’t push Sierra.

Neither of them knew how long they stayed in the kitchen embracing but Sierra let go first citing that Din should get little Grogu home, thanking him. He told her it wasn’t an issue and told her he was going to bring in her bags before leaving. She blinked and Ms. Harris told him the keys were near the door. The older woman shot a look at Sierra warning her to stay put. After bringing them in, Din said goodnight and scooped up Grogu taking him home.

A pivotal first impression had been made.

Chapter One. Chapter Three

Space Buddies: @readingiskeepingmegoing @604to647 @syd-djarin @yorksgirl

@harriedandharassed @survivingandenduring @drawingdroid @katw474 @trulybetty

@bitchwitch1981 @soft-girl-musings @tinytinymenace @djarinmuse @littlemisspascal

[transingthoseformers]

TFA TaraProwl Idea: Tarantulas hears his ex, that he is definitely over, died and immediately goes "I think the fuck not" and signs up to help Blackarachnia in order to get to Cybertron and steals the All Spark having betrayed her. Hears about Prowl's ghost showing up and steals his body.

Basically, on the run with Prowl's corpse, Bumblebee and Bulkhead, who can see the Prowl ghost and the All Spark to resurrect the dead. Bulkhead is deeply invested in their "romance" and gasping throughout the entire retelling, while Bumblebee refuses to believe it.

Prowl does get necromancied, though he wasn't dead-dead, more like IDW Bee Dead. Prowl keeps switching back and forth between the groups as Megatron and Optimus are both tracking him down. Optimus to save his friends and Megatron bargaining with his knowledge of the area and watching the drama going down as Sentinel didn’t trust Optimus to go alone and Blackarachnia was dragged along as it was her ship. He is like the terrible influence wine aunt who is just commenting on the disaster trios hot mess of a relationship. He is also invested in this because he has been stuck in the body of a Minicon due to Tarantulas messing with his "upgrade" and is now pocket-sized. Ratchet puts him in a cookie jar as punishment

Prowl confirms their former relationship when he comes back to life and it turns out they didn't break up so much as Prowl ran off due to the guilt of what happened with Lockdow and to avoid the draft. This left Mesothulas alone and as an odd duck. He eventually defected to the Decepticons in part to find Prowl, met Blackarachnia and got his dream bod. He also still has the protoform he'd filed paperwork for them to co-mentor and never activated, carrying them with him a la tiny Sari pod the whole time. During the ruckus the baby is born when they both (+Blitzwing who is glared down by Tarantulas and wisely steps away) touch him and tiny Springer is born.

Of course, Tara, of course.

Ghost prowl?

Ah yes, theft of an offlined frame

oh bulky

Why does that give the vibe of a Frankensteinesque scene but instead of the actual process it's essentially just defibrillating a corpse, except Allspark edition. Tara will say "iT'S ALIVE, IT'S ALIVE!!!" and Prowl just sighs.

Meggsie yES

Tara had no idea what to do until he had all the ideas

Awww yes. So he was just lugging a half baked baby around until this very moment.

[usermischief]

♚ Pairing: Sterek ♚ Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale ♚ Tags: getting together, future fic(ish) ♚ Words: 905 ♚ Prompt: “I do talk a lot, huh?” - “But it’s nice. I like hearing your thoughts.” ♚ Mini Fic Roulette: 35/∞ 

---

“I’m serious, you haven’t experienced heat until you’ve been to Europe in the summer. Don’t get me wrong, it’s hot here, but the heat in Poland?” Stiles runs his hands over his face. He can still feel the scorching heat from the memory alone. “And they don’t have AC. I don’t know how Babcia survives — or deals with my aunt. For two days, I was sweating my balls off and had to endure her constant nagging. At the same time.” Huffing out a breath, Stiles leans back onto his elbows. The sky above them is dark and full of stars, giving the night a welcome calmness. The last few days have been a whirlwind of family gatherings and feelings. Derek was right. The nights are a lot clearer in the middle of nowhere. Just lying here, next to him, it’s worth the stress of the last couple of days.   

Stiles flops onto his back with a sigh, absently playing with a string of his hoodie. “She’s nothing compared to Peter.”

Derek chuckles, the sound ever so soft in the gentle breeze of the night.

“She’s still a bitch. I know you shouldn’t call you aunt a bitch, but, like, if we’re lucky and our schedules line up, we see each other once a year for Babcia’s birthday, and she spent the whole time berating me and my dad. Mostly me, though. My accent’s too heavy. I shouldn’t go by a nickname. I need to learn how to sit still.” He gestures towards the sky, squinting his eyes against the light of the stars overhead. As much as he promised himself not to let her words get to him again, Stiles curls his hands into fists either way and sits up again. “She said I won’t make it far at the FBI because I talk too much. Can you believe that? As if the amount I talk somehow changes how good I am at my job.” Stiles pauses and presses his lips together. His heart beats against his ribs, once, twice. He takes a breath, stealing a glance at Derek, who’s remained awfully silent since the rest of the pack left to catch some sleep. After all, they were on the road for almost ten hours.  

Pushing his heads into the pockets of his hoodie, Stiles lies back down again. “I do talk a lot, huh?”

Derek hums in agreement. “But it’s nice,” he tells him, gaze suddenly heavy on the side of Stiles’ face — palpable like a fingertip tracing his cheek. “I like hearing your thoughts.”

Heat creeps up Stiles’ neck. He hopes it’s not too visible in the light of the moon. His mouth going dangerously dry, Stiles turns to look at Derek, whose face has never looked so soft. He smiles, trying his hardest to keep his heart under control. If he’s honest to himself — something he rarely manages to be — he’s been dreaming of a moment like this forever. Not exactly this, but something similar; the two of them, alone, in a somewhat romantic setting, and Derek looking as if he likes him. In a romantic kind of way. Stiles bites his cheek and looks away again. Better to stop right there. He’s jetlagged, hasn’t slept since boarding the plane almost 26 hours ago, and that glass of wine most definitely hit harder than it usually does.

He itches to touch Derek’s face, tracing the curve of his mouth, the sharp line of his jaw.

Fuck.

Stiles clears his throat as he attempts to sit up again, but Derek cups his cheek, successfully freezing him in place. Stiles’ heart leaps into his throat. He opens his mouth, but the words are lodged underneath his jaw, refusing to spill out of the first time in — shit, the first time ever, actually.

Derek doesn't say anything either. He simply smiles, his touch gentle as his thumb glides over Stiles' cheek, then brushes the corner of his mouth. "I like hearing you talk," Derek murmurs in a low voice, shattering the heavy silence around them. "And I don't want you to stop."

“Are you—” Stiles swallows, struggling to get the words out with all of his nerves getting in the way “— are you sure? Because I can totally stop right now. If you want to- if you want me to.” If he’s misreading every single social cue, he still has a chance to deny absolutely everything.

But Derek props himself onto his elbow. “Right now, I want to kiss you.”

“Oh.” Stiles licks his lips, flushing even deeper. “Yeah, that’s totally something I want to do to… wanted to do for like a really—”

Huffing out a breath, Derek pushes Stiles onto his back. Then his mouth is on his, and Stiles is pretty sure his heart stopped. Because Derek Hale is kissing him. Because shit like this doesn’t happen to him. He’s died and gone to heaven. This cannot be real. It simply can’t. As Derek presses his knee firmly between Stiles' thighs, snapping him out of his trance, the reality crashes upon him like a tidal wave.

Fuck.

Stiles grabs at Derek, curling his fingers into the short strands and collar of his shirt. This is very real. This is happening. This is happening to him.  

Holy shit.

Derek chuckles into the kiss.

This man is going to be the death of him, and Stiles couldn’t be happier about it.  

[jaimebrienneonline]

Fun with Fics

Rules: Pick any ten of your fics, scroll roughly to the midpoint, pick a line (or three) and share it. Then tag ten people.

(I got this twice in my inbox, so here goes.)

1. The Wine Is Not Enough

Sam leaned forward and offered Dany some unsolicited wisdom, “Never, ever wear open-toed sandals in a Port-o-Walder.”

2. The Seduction

Jaime lunged forward and pressed his mouth to hers in a sloppy, wet kiss. He pulled back and began kicking off his shoes. "Fine. See. You've won. I yield. You can have your way with me."

3. Vows

He shifted on the bed to lean back against the pillows, angling himself to her. “I left you unprotected in the North. Did that Wildling try to steal you? Did you let him?” His eyes glittered with something she didn’t understand. “Is that why you’re trying to refuse me?”

“No one stole me. Why would anyone even try? I’m not a possession to be stolen,” she huffed.

4. Age Gap

“Seriously though, Tyrion, what’s the point in having a sexy young girlfriend if I can’t have her hold up restaurant menus to prove I can read them from a distance?”

5. The Right Time

He rose from his seat and turned around, facing the bear-like man. With a deliberate swipe of his stump, he knocked the unopened cup to the floor before leaning his perfect muscular backside against the edge of her desk. His voice was like shards of ice as he spoke to the investigator. “Brienne already has plans for lunch. With me.” He then stood straight and took a step closer to the other man. “She has plans today. Tomorrow. Every lunch. Every day. Every dinner, too.”

6. Life's Sweetest Reward

Brienne shoveled a bite of eggs in her mouth and swallowed before answering. “Shuffleboard tournament.” After watching the other couples at parasailing yesterday, she thought she and Jaime were probably the most athletic ‘couple’ on board. “If Jaime manages to get up in time, we’ll likely win.”

Howland drew back from her and his previous affable expression turned into something much harder. Jyana touched his hand, a look of alarm on her face.

“Jya and I have been on ninety-seven cruises. We compete in the shuffleboard tournament every single time.” He leaned in then, his voice dark and low, “And we always win.”

7. The Kingslayer's Speech

No matter how she argued that the first kiss had been an accident, (did you trip and fall into my lips, wench?), he had insisted that he was entitled to a kiss with every goodbye now. It was his due, he said. Just to shut him up, she’d smacked her lips against his and sent him on his way.

8. The Singular Discomfort of Jaime Lannister

He hadn’t thought it possible to be this hard and not explode. “Are you,” he paused, needing to catch his breath, “are you asking me to tell you about the hot, dirty things I want to do to you?”

9. Everyone Has a Price

Aunt Myranda (wife of Stafford, mother of Daven, Cerenna and Myrielle), passed around tequila shots while discussing the benefits of erectile dysfunction medication, but the drawbacks of four-hour erections.

10. Words in the Dark Night

“Or I could warm it on your teats, what little you have, wench. Or perhaps under the sweet curve of your ass.”

Sam watched as the Maid’s gloved hand gripped the hilt of Oathkeeper. He wondered if Ser Jaime planned to die tonight.

----

Okay..this was a lot of fun. Thank you. I haven't double checked all the links, but you can find all my fics by just clicking one and then my user name. I can't always connect writers to tumblrs, so I'm going with the first few I remember. @ddagent @writergirl2011 @seaspiritwrites @glamaphonic @isolacaramella @quizzicalquinnia @ladym-rules @wackygoofball @wildlingoftarth @bussdowntarthiana

[senajun4ever]

Zuka at a family reunion

Sena gives the mom vibe she will set the table and help in the kitchen. All the unrelated men there think she’s hot and are not being subtle whatsoever. Also some kids ship her and their dad so she can be their new mom

Rio is the wine aunt who met your kids once and they won’t stop talking about her. You think she’s a bad influence and she’s probably turned your children against you. Your kids love Rio more and you just have to accept that

Mizu is that one uncle who’s always there but you never talk to. The older you get, the more you believe shes affiliated with the Mafia. Now it’s been years and your family hasn’t heard from her for a long time

Sagiri is that one cousin who stresses you out, and you kinda hope you don’t ever have to see her again. Her laugh is drilled into your head. Also frequently comes up in convo because the rest of the family loves her

Shizuki is your aunties’ cousins’ boyfriends’ sisters’ friend who teaches the young children how to do karate and self defence in the middle of dinner time once you ask her about what she does for a living

Kiriya is the wine aunts (Rio) boyfriend who drinks a lot of beer but is also that manly material that the younger kids at the family reunion fall for. Years later those kids realize that was weird of them

Ryouga is that one person you sometimes see, usually quiet in the corner. You don’t know who she’s related to but your just gonna trust she’s in the family

Komu is the older cousin y’all strive to be but can’t. The younger cousins want to be like her cuz she’s cool and sits at the adult table. She doesn’t really see this as a family reunion, more of a place to assert absolute dominance over those tiny children

Yuzuru Kurenai is the one with the pretty laugh that you can always recognize. She’ll buy her nieces and nephews anything they want because she wishes she had children of her own. Very nice pretty girl and popular with the single men at the reunion but they don’t stand a chance