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somewhere-elena · 3 months ago

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ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏɴsᴛᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ʜɪs ʙᴇᴀᴜᴛʏ

ʜᴇɪᴀɴ ᴇʀᴀ sᴜᴋᴜɴᴀ x ғ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

(ʙᴇᴀᴜᴛʏ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇᴀsᴛ ɪɴsᴘɪʀᴇᴅ)

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴏɴᴇ

★∻∹⋰⋰ ☆∻∹⋰⋰ ★∻∹⋰⋰ ☆∻∹⋰⋰★∻∹⋰⋰ ☆∻∹

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛᴡᴏ

∘₊✧──────────────────✧₊∘

You were in your home, reading at the table to pass the time when there was a knock at the door. You get up, walking over and looking through the peephole, only to see Naoya out there, waiting.

You sighed quietly, rolling your eyes before opening the door.

"Naoya, what a surprise." You said as Naoya walked in.

"Y/n, I've come to talk to your about something very important." He said.

You looked curious. "Which is?..."

"This is the day-" Naoya started before turning to a nearby mirror to make sure he looked okay before starting back up again.

"-This is the day all your dreams come true." He said.

"And what do you know about my dreams, Naoya?" You asked.

"Plenty!" He exclaimed, sitting down at the table and putting his muddy boots on the actual table. On top of your book.

"Picture this; A rustic hunting lodge, my latest kill roasting by the fire.. My little wife, massaging my feet while the little ones play on the floor with the dogs. We would had six or seven." He said.

You shifted uncomfortably. "Dogs?.."

He chuckled. "No, Y/n! Strapping boys, like me."

You laugh uncomfortably. "Imagine that." You said, grabbing your book and wiping it off before putting on the bookshelve.

"Do you know who that little wife will be?" He asked.

"Let me think." You replied.

"You, Y/n." He said firmly.

Your eyes go wide as you shifted towards the door.

"Naoya! I'm... Speechless-" You said, your back pressed against the door.

"I really don't know what to say.." You continued.

Naoya chuckled cockily, approaching you.

"Say you'll marry me." He said, his hands going to either side of your head against the door.

"I'm very sorry, Naoya, but.. But I just don't deserve you." You said, turning the door handle and stepping aside as Naoya tumbled outside.

You quickly shut the door before heading out back to feed the animals.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

You were on a hill nearby your home, looking at the sunset, lost in thought before the sounds of a horse startled you.

You jump to your feet and are surprised to see Jugai approaching, clearly panicked.

"Jugai?" You asked, using the reins to settle him down. "What happened? Where's Gojo??" You asked, starting to panic yourself.

You quickly hop on his back. "You must take me to him!" You said as Jugai began galloping.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

You ended up in a dark forest in front of a somewhat run down castle. Getting off Jugai's back, you found the hat Gojo wore on the ground.

"Gojo..." You said quietly in concern.

You walked up to the entrance, pushing the large doors open and looking around the dark, empty castle.

"Hello?" You called out. "Anyone home?"

There were very hushed whispers.

"Look, Megumi! A beautiful girl!"

"I know it's a girl."

"Maybe she's the one, the one to break the spell!"

"Don't get your hopes up."

"Hello?" You called out again.

"I'm looking for my guardian..." You continued, walking further into the castle.

You walked around, going up stairs before you found yourself in a dungeon like area. You looked around curiously, picking a lit torch off the wall when you heard a small cough.

Your eyes widened as you walked over to a cell to see Gojo locked away. You gasped.

"Gojo!" You said, quickly moving closer to the cell door.

Gojo's eyes widened. "Y/n! What are you doing here? Go before he catches you next!" He said in a hushed tone.

"What happened?! Who did this to you?" You asked frantically.

"You have to go!" Gojo said.

"I won't leave you here!" You said before you were yanked away, the torch you were holding slipping from your grasp and falling into a puddle, going out.

"What are you doing here?!" A deep voice growled. You couldnt really see who spoke given the darkness of the room, the faint glow of the moonlight being the only source of light right now.

"Who's there? Who are you?" You asked, fear starting to creep up.

"The master of this castle." The voice said.

"I'm here for my guardian, please let him out. Can't you see he's sick?" You pleaded.

"Then he shouldn't have trespassed here!" The deep voice exclaimed, causing you to flinch.

"But he could die! Please, I'll do anything." You said.

"There's nothing you can do. He's my prisoner." The voice said.

"Oh, there must be someway I can..." You trailed off before a thought crossed your mind.

"Wait!" You called out.

You saw the large shadow turn slightly, causing you to be hesitant.

"...Take me instead." You offered.

"You?!" The voice growled before softening slightly. "...would take his place?"

"Y/n, no! You don't know what you're doing!" Gojo said.

"If I did... Would you let him go?" You asked.

"Yes. But you must promise to stay here forever." The voice said.

A look of hesitancy crossed your features again.

"Come into the light." You said.

And so the large figure did, stepping into the prominent spot of moonlight, revealing a large man, tattoos on his body, four arms, two eyes on one side of his face while the other two looked more distorted.

You gasp, backing up towards the cell door.

"No, Y/n! I won't let you do this!" Gojo said.

You sighed before turning back to the man.

"You have my word." You said, holding back tears.

"Done." He said, walking over and yanking Gojo out of his cell, beginning to drag him off.

Your eyes widened. "Wait!" You called out again, but the man continued dragging Gojo off.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

Making his way back up the stairs, he was interrupted by Yuji.

"Uncle, since the girl is gonna be with us for quite some time... I was thinking maybe you'd might want to offer her a more comfortable room?" Yuji suggested.

Sukuna growled, glaring daggers at Yuji.

"Then again, maybe not." Yuji said nervously.

Sukuna walked back into the dungeon, seeing you weeping.

"You didn't even let me say goodbye... I'll never him again." You cried out.

Sukuna shifted awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'll show you to your room." He said.

"My room? But I thought-" you started.

"You wanna stay in the tower?" Sukuna asked.

"No." You replied.

"Then follow me." He growled.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

As you were walking, you looked around.

"I... hope you like it here." Sukuna said.

"The castle is your home now, so you may go anywhere you want. Except the West Wing." He said.

"What's in the West Wing?-" you asked.

"It's forbidden." He said firmly, his deep voice echoing through the halls.

Once you made it to a pair of doors, Sukuna opened one and you walked inside.

"Now if you need anything, my servants will attend you." He said.

"You.. Will join me for dinner. That's not a request!" He exclaimed, slamming the door.

You whipped around with a gasp before backing up towards the bed, sitting down, you began weeping again.

This was your life now.

∘₊✧──────────────────✧₊∘

#jjk #fanfic #x reader #jujustu kaisen #beauty and the beast au #au #jjk au #roymen sukuna #sukuna jjk #sukuna x reader #yuji itadori #megumi fushiguro #gojo satoru #naoya jjk #naoya zenin

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johnwickb1tsch · 1 year ago

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bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 5 all chapters

-You take him home, and you can't help but stare in awe as you go through the gate. The Wick residence is quite the cabin-style manse, a behemoth in dark painted wood and stone and massive mirrored windows.

“Do you...want to come in?” he offers as you park in the circle drive. “Dog would love to see you.”

You look at him, not sure if that is code for he would like you to spend more time with him. It’s so hard to read this man. It doesn't seem like he's hitting on you though. Just…being nice? You know he must be lonely, and you truly have nothing better to do.

“Ok. I can stay for a little while.”

The mudroom leads into the kitchen, which is dark cabinets and black marble countertops. Dog trots up to you immediately upon entrance, snoofing your outreached hands and leaning heavily on your legs. “Hi sweetie,” you say, scratching his side.

“How about a snack?” John offers, opening the refrigerator. “I’m always hungry after a hike.”

“Okay.”

“Want some coffee? Tea?”

“I can make it, if you show me where your stuff is.”

“No, it’s your day off. Let me take care of you. You always take care of me.”

You're a little dumbfounded, standing in this man’s kitchen who by his own admission, you barely know. Never once have you been invited by any of the wealthy visitors from the coffee shop into their homes. Why would you be?

You aware again of how he towers over you. It makes your very bones weak, when he looks down at you with those shining dark eyes. He does not look away from you, holding your gaze. You don't know why, but you feel a little like a butterfly caught in a spider’s web.

“Have a seat,” he directs, nodding towards a leather-upholstered stool at the island.

“Ok...”

You are not used to being taken care of. You’ve been on your own for so long.

You feel a little out of place, and cautiously slide up onto the stool, looking around. It’s an open plan, you can see into the recessed living room with its cavernous ceiling. The house is painted in dark shades, masculine, but very stylish. It's classy but comfortable, with large windows to let in the light and the natural beauty from outside.

Then you watch with more than a little fascination as John sets up a kettle and a French press, then starts putting together a little charcuterie spread on a wooden board. His hands are poetry in motion, and like when he��d helped you with your burn, you cannot look away. He slices artisan sausage and cheese, expensive locally crafted treats from the grocer you can never afford on your ramen budget. They look delicious.

You feel like quite the honored guest. The kitchen fills with the heavenly scent of coffee as he pours the hot water into the carafe, and you relax slightly.

“You didn’t have to do all this for me, Mr. Wick,” you say as the selection on the charcuterie board expands to sliced apple and herby crackers, still a bit mortified.

“Call me John,” he insists, looking at you through his hair. Your heart does an extra hard tha-thump in your chest. “And it’s my pleasure, really.”

With sundries in tow you go to the living room, where there are soft leather couches and a rustic walnut wood coffee table. He turns on the gas fireplace, lending the room a warm glow. You notice there are bookshelves flanking the fireplace that rise almost to the ceiling, completely full. This place is incredibly cozy, and as you settle into the cushion you regret already that you’ll have to leave.

Dog clambers up on the couch with you, practically climbing into your lap. You laugh, hugging the affectionate canine as he licks your face, but John gives him a funny look.

“Is he not allowed on the couch?” you ask, feeling sheepish.

“Not usually, but I'll let it slide.” He says it with a slight smile, looking at the animal bemusedly. “It's not often we have company.”

Dog offers a canine smile, undoubtedly well aware that he is getting away with something this special day.

You take a sip of your coffee, and sigh. This is the good stuff. “God. You make better coffee than I do. Why do you even bother to come into the shop when you could just stay here all day?” You could just sit and read in this room for hours, you reckon. Look out the window. Watch the fire, and forget the outside world even exists.

“The shop has its perks,” he says quietly, looking at you out the corner of his eye. As usual, you're not sure if he's talking in double speak. In the end you decide it’s all in your head, and you relax a little more.

After snacking on tasty tidbits and sipping a bit more brew, you look around more. A wrought iron staircase leads up to a landing. You can tell the house sprawls a long way further back than just what you can see. Before you can stop yourself you blurt out, “Do you really live here all alone?”

You’ve never noticed a wedding ring, but then, he’s missingthe appropriate finger.

“Yes.” He looks off into the fire. “I was married once, but she passed away.”

Shit. You and your big fucking mouth.

“Oh. I'm so sorry.”

“Thanks. It seems like it was a lifetime ago now.” He frowns, clearly still deeply pained about it, and you feel so terrible for bringing it up. But sometimes once the scab is open, it's best to remember something good.

“What was her name?”

“Helen.”

“How pretty.”

“Yes. She was...a lovely woman.”

“What was she like?”

He smiles then. It's slight, and completely to himself. But you feel some validation in your train of inquiry. “She was smart, and funny, and she lit up any room she walked into.”

His total opposite, it sounded like. There’s a reason opposites attract, to make a whole.

He sighs, a forlorn sound that squeezes your heart. “And, I loved her with all my heart.”

“What a lucky woman,” you say before you can stop yourself.

You absolutely feel the weight of the sidelong look he pays you this time.

“We had some luck, before she was diagnosed. But when you love someone like that...eternity wouldn't be long enough.”

You're not sure why there are tears in your eyes for someone you never met.

“I wouldn't know,” you admit.

No one has ever loved you so much.

“You're young yet. You will, someday.” You can still feel him looking at you, out the corner of your eye. His gaze has such weight to it, a heady, heavy thing that is like a hand on your skin.

“I’m not sure I want to,” you admit frankly. “It sounds…terrifying.”

“It is,” he agrees. “But when it hits you...you don't really get a choice.”

Before you can think of an answer to that, somewhere in the house a phone rings. With a little frown John gets up to answer it. “Make yourself at home,” he tells you. It sounds a bit like an order.

You take an impossibly soft blanket and drape it over you and dog, snuggling up in the cozy warmth. You don’t really mean to fall asleep, but you close your eyes, and you ae done for.

You dream that someone is gently touching your face, tracing the curve of your cheek ever so lightly.

You only wake up when there's a small noise, and you find John cleaning up what's left of the charcuterie board.

“Sorry,” he whispers, glaring down at the cheese knife that dared roll off onto the table.

That he would apologize to you, when you're the one who fell asleep in his house, is pretty absurd.

You sit up a little. The weight of dog has made one of your legs go numb.

“I'm sorry,” you counter. You are mortified as you wonder if you were snoring. Waking up early for your shift at the coffee house tires you out so badly. It can be hard to have a real life, when you wake up at four in the morning. “I didn't mean to doze. It's so warm and comfortable here.”

He frowns again, but you don’t realize it’s because he’s wondering if you are warm and comfortable in your own tiny apartment. He holds up a hand when he sees you struggling to get free of the blanket.

“It's alright. Stay as long as you like.”

He takes what little is left of the sundries back into the kitchen.

You manage to get up, and stretch, reawakening your limbs. You join him in the kitchen. The sun is hanging low in the sky. It will be dark soon. You have sooo overstayed your welcome, or so you think.

“You might as well stay for dinner now,” John says. As usual, you can't really tell if he's joking.

He’s not, in fact, but he is being careful about how he handles this delicate thing between you. Seeing you snoozing contentedly on his couch with his dog moved him to his toes, and the notion of keeping you there with him is becoming harder and harder to resist.

It would be so easy, he thinks, just to keep you.

Fat snowflakes have started to fall outside.

“I think I've imposed on you enough for one day. Thank you, this was nice.”

He looks out at the snow, which is falling even more heavily now.

“Sure you want to go out in this?”

“Right now? Yes. In two hours, probably not.”

He nods at that, seeming to think on something. “Will you...text me that you've gotten home safe?”

You are finding out that this outwardly stone-faced man has a protective steak that is totally endearing. You never would have guessed from his prickly exterior.

“Sure. What's your number?”

He tells you, and you punch it into your phone. “Alright. See you later, Mr. Wick.”

He doesn't correct you, and is it just you, or do his pupils dilate when you call him that?

Hard to tell, with eyes so dark as his.

There is a pregnant moment between you, in which you wonder if you should offer him a hug, or if that would totally ruin the balance of your companionship. You briefly wonder what he would do if you stood on tiptoe, steadied yourself with a hand on that muscular chest, and kissed him on the cheek, before you decide you need to go.

Later you text him a funny string of emojis involving a house, snowflakes, the wide-eyed smiley, and a penguin, imagining how they would make him scrunch up his brow.

Does this mean you're home safe?

Yes, Mr. Wick.

Glad to hear it. Good night, y/n.

#john wick #john wick x you #john wick x reader #john wick x y/n #keanu reeves #john wick fic #keanu reeves x reader #yandere john wick #bittersweet john wick imagine #i just feel like dark academia cabin in the woods would be johns jam 😂

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jscrawls · 3 months ago

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me x jason

I'M LOCKED IN BESTIE

*(cutely makes an entire Jason au outta this)*

🔹🔹🔹

the suns first pale rays worked their way through the curtains to warm the night-damp bedroom, the sheets, cooled by now slowly absorbed the warmth just as jason stirred.

his eyes were heavy with sleep, barely able to peel themselves open as he lazily pawed around for you with sluggish movements. when he found nothing but empty bed and cold fabrics snagging on his scarred fingertips did he force his eyes open, slowly his head lifts off the rumpled pillows and he rolls onto his side to look around the bedroom.

everything’s in order, the pale walls are tinted yellowed in the sunlight, your vanity mirror in the corners reflecting it in his eyes when he sits up more fully against the headboard. the only things out of place is you and your leather coat.

it’s barely daylight and you’re already dressed and out of sight.

he knows where you most likely are though so he rolls himself out of bed with no great urgency, a small shiver crawls up his spine as his bare feet make contact with the cool carpet, he pulls a undershirt on for the added layer and pads his way out of the bedroom, heading down the short hall that’s full of pictures of you and your family, someolder ones of you as a child, some newer, just the two of you or you and jason shoved in a group pic with your family smooshed around him with big goofy smiles on everyone’s face. that one always made him snort.

the kitchen was still slightly cluttered, dishes from last nights dinner still sit in the sink and there’s still a few bottles of spices sitting out. atleast he knows he’s not that unaware in his sleep that he didn’t notice you cleaning up. jason flicks on the coffee burner and starts slowly filling up the pot with that filtered water you like so much, carefully measuring the coffee grounds and finally turning the coffee maker on to do it’s magic.

he steps around the kitchen table to peer out the screen door, there he spots your form on one of the rocking chairs on the porch, you look like you’re soaking up the morning suns rays so he quietly steps back into the rustic kitchen to grab your favorite mug out of the cabinet.

the two mugs are pleasantly warm in his hand as he clicks the door open and quietly slides it open and then shut behind him as he steps out. was stepping onto a cold porch barefoot the best decision? no. but he doesn’t care enough to head back in when you turn your head to meet his stare, you nudge the cat out of the twin rocking chair beside yours and wave him over so jason greedliy takes the invitation before the cat returns or one of the dogs gets some idea in their head to hop up.

he drops a lazy kiss on your head as he passes the cracked coffee mug to you and then slowly drops himself into the chair next to you, muttered good-mornings pass between you both as jason soaks up the view of mountains and forests bordering fields around the place, it’s so different from gothams that it still catches him off guard at random moments, it’s so quiet out here. the lights are on in the barn in the distance so he’s guessing you’ve already seen to the horses this morning.

“did she pop yet or something?” jason mutters before sipping his coffee slowly and rolling his head over his shoulder to glance at you, did you somehow sense the pregnant mare going into labor or something? he doesn’t get the odd farmer things sometimes.

you shake your head slowly, looking over at him and suppressing a giggle when you notice how little he’s wearing, he’s definitely gonna throw more clothes on before he returns with his second mug, no doubt in your mind. “no, she’s still holding out on us yet. the old dog got into a fight with the rabbits so i got up for that, was too awake to get back into bed after that.”

jason just nods, waiting for the caffeine to kick in as you both doze on the chairs. jason never saw himself in this kind of life, calmly enjoying a morning outside after a full nights sleep, fresh coffee and contentment warming his fingers, jason finds himself snorting into his mug as he watches your elderly dog shuffle up to you with narrowed eyes and an impatient glance towards the screen door, clearly asking to go back inside.

no jason never saw himself here, but he has no intention to move from this spot for the forseeable future.

🔹🔹🔹

| M.list |

a/n: okay so I've actually been making lore for an au like this for a while, i like the thought of Jason just getting out of Gotham and finding himself chilling out and healing. I read something kinda similar last year so if I find the author I'll tag them here

Hope you like it @viilan 😘😘😘

#ask #dc x reader #dc x y/n #jason todd x gn!reader #jason todd x reader #jason todd x y/n #viilan #Ranch jason

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simverses · 6 months ago

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WFS Bavaria Bedroom

The Bavaria Bedroom has a total of 39 items/variations, all matching the other Bavaria sets, in a rustic, old fashioned style.

Converted from Sims 2, original by Wood for Sims - edited and adapted for Sims 4.

Set A includes:

An Armoire (Wardrobe)

A Dresser

Two mirrored Bed End Tables, to place on each side of the bed

A Stool

A Vanity Table - this item needs Vintage Glamour Stuff Pack

Set B: Beds

The WFS Bavaria Bedroom Beds - these are made as EA makes them, with both frame and bedding.

In this set:

Bavaria Double Bed

Bavaria Double Bed High with Matching Canopy Drapes

Bavaria Single Bed

Bavaria Single Bed High with Matchng Canopy Drapes

Bavaria Wider Single Bed

Bavaria Wider Single Bed with Matching Canopy Drapes

Bavaria Toddler Bed

Bavaria Toddler Bed with Matching Canopy Drapes

Bavaria Bunk Bed (Upper part) with Matching Canopy Drapes

Note: The wider single bed is a concept I usually create for beds, as the single bed looks so narrow. A wider version fits better in a room for one sim, I think. It works a normal single bed, but needs a little more space.

Note 2: The Bavaria Bunk Bed works as EA bunk beds and can be combined with the other beds, or dresser, or a living chair or loveseat.

Note 3: The different sizes are merged together when they share textures. So there is only one package for the both versions of the double bed, and so on. If you want to edit or remerge, unmerge the packages first.

The Bavaria Bed Frames separated so you can combine them with any separate bedding.

Converted from Sims 2, edited and adapted for Sims 4. Original by Wood for Sims.

10 different bed frames In this set:

Separated Bed Frame for Double Bed, with or without Canopy Drapes

Separated Bed Frame for Single Bed, with or without Canopy Drapes

Separated Bed Frame for Wider Single Bed, with or without Canopy Drapes

Separated Bed Frame for Toddler Bed, with or without Canopy Drapes

Separated Bed Frame for Upper Bunk Bed, with or without Canopy Drapes

20+ wooden colors, 37+ drape swatches.

All the Bavaria Bed sizes - the beddings separated. 40 swatches.

Converted from Sims 2, edited and adapted for Sims 4. Original by Wood for Sims.

In this set:

Bedding for Double Bed

Bedding for Single Bed

Bedding for Wider Single Bed

Bedding for Toddler Bed

Bedding for Upper Bunk Bed

Download WFS Bavaria Part 8: Bedroom Set A - Dressers and misc (Curseforge)

Download WFS Bavaria Part 8: Bedroom Set B - Beds (Curseforge)

Download WFS Bavaria Part 8: Bedroom Set C - Separated Bed Frames (Curseforge)

Download WFS Bavaria Part 8: Bedroom Set D - Separated Beddings (Curseforge)

#sims 4 #sims 4 cc #ts2 to ts4 #sims 4 buybuild #sims 4 wfs #sims 4 wfs bavaria

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simmerkate · 1 year ago

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Boho Vibes Set

Set includes:

Rattan Chair

Fern Plant

Boho Rugs

Boho Wall art

Flower Shaped Pillow

Boho Mirror

Rustic Side Table

Table cloth for the side table

Rustic End Table

Natural Shaded books

2048 x 2048 Textures.

Please be careful if using high poly cc on low end pcs

Public Release -16th of April

Follow me on insta @SimmerKatex

Patreon (xx) ad-free

#ts4 #the sims 4 #ts4cc #the sims 4 cc #the sims cc #skcc #thesims4 #thesims4cc #ccfinds

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sheawritesstuff · 1 year ago

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Meeting the Alpha

[Gabriel Shaw and David x Angel]

[Meet the parents Fluff - 1391 words]

[Little bit of a twist ending ;p enjoy]

“Alright, Angel. How are you feeling? You ready?” David asked, putting the car in park. Angel fidgeted nervously in their seat and stared out the window. Their attention darted rapidly between the big, rustic house in front of them and their own shaking hands.

“What if he doesn’t like me?” Their voice was uncharacteristically quiet and almost shaky. “What if I fuck it up? Davey I- “ David cut them off with a gentle grip of their hand. They finally turned to look at him, mouth tugged down in a frown. He held their hand firmly and took a dramatically slow, deep breath. They followed suit, filling their lungs with air and breathing out their worry.

“He’s going to love you, Angel. I promise,” David said, soft and genuine. “It’s going to be ok, it’s just my dad.” Angel nodded, still breathing deeply. They squeezed their boyfriend’s hand and forced a smile.

“I think I’m ready now.” They said it more to themself than to him. David kissed them once before the two of them hefted themselves up and out of the car. The wolf came to their side and looped their arms together, keeping them nice and close. They walked together to the front door, waited a moment for a few more deep breaths, and David knocked firmly on the thick wooden door.

A moment later the door opened, revealing the man of the hour. If Angel thought David was big, Gabe was gigantic. He was at least three inches taller and almost as wide as his son, but not quite as muscular. Angel stared up at him, eyes wide and mouth hanging open slightly.

“Well hey! You must be the little Angel I’ve heard so much about,” Gabe declared. He spread his arms, a bright smile plastered across his face, then paused. “Wait, can I- do… do you do hugs?” He pulled his arms back toward his body awkwardly as he questioned the forwardness of his action.

Angel giggled at him and opened their arms too. They nestled against his chest in a firm, familiar hug. They both sighed, relaxing in their shared embrace as the mutual nervousness faded. They pulled away and found David standing off to the side, arms folded across his chest.

“Aw, Davey, are you feeling left out? C’mere baby,” Angel teased, approaching him arms first. David groaned, but hugged them back, running his hand over their back. Gabe took the opportunity to ruffle David’s hair, wasting the agonizing half-hour he put into perfecting it. The beta scrunched his eyebrows together and huffed at his father.

“I did not come here to be ambushed,” he complained, pushing his mate away from him. He turned back toward the door, quickly trying to tidy up his hair. “Are you gonna let us in or not, old man?” David’s grin gave away the fact his dismay was all for show. Gabe rolled his eyes, still smiling wide. He motioned toward the door with both arms and bowed slightly.

“After you, Davey,” Gabe remarked, stepping inside behind them and closing the door. David mirrored his elder and rolled his eyes. The trio entered the front room of the house together. Angel openly gawked at the gorgeous childhood home of their lover.

“Dinner is on the table if you two are ready.”

The dining table was huge, stretching about as far as one end of Angel’s apartment to the other. It was bare, though, save for three neatly arranged placemats on one end with a variety of dishes scattered around them. David led his mate to their seat and pulled the chair out for them. He sat across from them, leaving the head of the table empty for the alpha.

“Wow.” Angel stared at the feast in front of them. “It looks amazing, Gabe.”

“It’s crazy, huh. Some people cook and eat actual food,” David joked as he scooped a spoonful of potatoes onto his plate. Gabe half-heartedly swatted at the back of his son’s head.

“Be nice. You weren’t always the healthiest eater either, y’know.” The older wolf turned to Angel with a smile. “You would not believe how hard it was to convince this boy to eat his vegetables. When he was still a tiny little thing he-” David covered his face with his hands and groaned. The tips of his ears were bright red as he listened to the retelling of his childhood stubbornness.

“-and he wouldn’t even look at anything green unless I bribed him with some sort of treat until he was damn near 15,” Gabe laughed and glanced toward the man sitting next to him. David still had his head bowed down in embarrassment, but he had uncovered in face in the interest of actually eating his dinner. “Your mama would be so proud of you,” Gabe said softly.

David perked his head up and stared at his father, surprise clear on his face. Gabe smiled at him and patted his shoulder with a nod. He turned back to Angel with the same kind grin. “She would love you too, Angel. You’re sweet like she was. I think you two would’ve gotten along well.” His voice was quiet and filled with a fond nostalgia. “You picked well, David.

David stopped eating for a moment, just pushing the food around on his plate as he searched for the right words. He looked across the table and met his partner’s eyes for a moment. He smiled back at them and sighed.

“Yeah, I did, didn’t I.”

The rest of the evening was filled with good food, laughter, and a plethora of embarrassing childhood stories. As the couple finished their food, Gabe stood to take their plates to the kitchen. Angel peered across the table with a smile painted on their face.

“I think he likes me,” they sighed. David laughed and pushed himself up from the table. He came around to the other side and draped himself over the top of their chair. A kiss to the top of the head accompanied a soft squeeze to their shoulders.

“He loves you, Angel. Just like I said he would.” He tilted their head up and kissed their forehead. “But I’m afraid if we don’t leave soon he’ll end up liking you more than me. And we can’t have that, can we?” They giggled and shook their head. He pulled their chair out to give them room to stand as Gabe reentered the dining room.

“You two heading out?” David nodded and replaced the chair.

“It was really great getting to meet you, Gabe,” Angel piped up. Gabe smiled down at them. His smile had been almost permanently painted on his face since they arrived, but it never seemed any less genuine.

“It was lovely meeting you too, Angel. Don’t be a stranger, ok?” He leaned down to hug them again and they happily returned it. He patted them on the back as he pulled away. David hugged him too, but it lingered a little longer as he reveled in the moment.

“I love you, Dad.”

“I love you too, David. Drive safe, alright?” David nodded as he turned to open the door.

“Always.”

Gabe stood on the porch as he watched them get back into their car. Angel let out a long, low sigh as they sat down. David turned the key with a hum and turned to face his mate. They smiled at him before waving out the window as they pulled out of the driveway. They leaned across the seat to plant a quick kiss to David’s cheek-

The feeling of gentle kisses scattered across David’s face pulled him back to reality. His eyes opened just enough to peer up at his mate on top of him, waking him up “the romantic way”. He smiled softly as the warmth of sleep ebbed away. Angel kissed the tip of his nose and pulled away just enough to make proper eye contact.

“Good morning, Davey,” they said, voice still hoarse from sleep. “Did you have a good dream?” David tucked their hair behind their ear and smiled as his core thrummed solid in his chest. He stared up at them, admiring the beauty before him for a long, silent moment.

“Yes, I did.” He pressed a soft kiss to their lips. “I had a very good dream, Angel.”

#I only feel a little evil #cause it's still sweet and cute #just not quite as much as it could've been y'know #redacted audio #redacted asmr #redacted david #redacted angel #redacted gabe #david shaw #gabe shaw #gabriel shaw #redacted fanfic #shea writes

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matthewswifeyx · 8 months ago

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Date night <3

Summary- Matt takes Y/N out to dinner.

Warnings-Fluff, suggestive?

I woke up out of my beauty rest by Matt shaking me awake. His hair wasn't messy this morning. That was strange. Why was he already dressed?

"G'morning sleepy head." Matt joked. I just groaned and rolled to the other side, facing away from Matt. "C'mon baby. It's 3pm!" Matt whined.

"I had a late night." I admit.

"Well I guess you don't want to hear the surprise then." Matt sat on the bed and had a fake pout plastered on his face. I giggled at his facial expression.

"What surprise?" I question. Matt laughs at my change of attitude.

"I'm taking you out to dinner, at that new place downtown. I saw your eyes on it when we walked past, so I thought I might as well treat you." Matt smiled.

"Oh my god! We haven't been on a date in like forever!" I jump out of bed and head into the bathroom to shower. Before I turned the knob to turn on the shower i heard Matt muffle a giggle and leave the room. I blush to myself and turn on the shower.

I decided to be fancy and put some eye shadow on for this special occasion. I already knew the dress i was going to wear. It was a purple short, slim fitted and silky. Matt hadn't seen it yet. I was so excited for him to see me in it.

I left the bathroom with my towel tightly wrapped around me. I spotted Matt sitting on the bed on his phone. He looked up at me. My hair was still wet but my makeup was halfway done.

"Baby, you look beautiful." Matt admitted.

"Oh hush Matt, no i'm not. My hair is still wet, my makeup isn't done and i'm in a towel." I say.

"Well to me, you look as gorgeous as ever." Matt stands up and exits the bedroom. "I'll be downstairs if you need me." He flashes me a quick smile and then closes the door. I go over to my closet and pull out the dress. God is was stunning. I lay it out n my bed with my bag and shoes placed by it. I go and sit at my vanity to finish off my makeup and dry my hair.

I had finished getting ready and I took one last glance at the mirror before going downstairs. My heels clicked against the wooden floor and i saw that Matt's head shot up to get a glimpse of my figure. He stood up and put his phone in his back pocket. I now had reached the bottom of the stairs.

"Sweetie, you look- oh my god. I'm lost for words." He admits. "You look beyond beautiful, you're so gorgeous." He walks over to me and gives me a passionate kiss. His hands are placed on my waist and he pulls me into him to deepen the kiss even more. God he was romantic. He pulled away slightly and gave me one last peck. I laughed at this gesture, but I was laughing even more when I realised that some of my lipstick has transferred to his lips. He just laughed with me and wiped it from his face.

"Ready to go?" He asked.

"Yeah." I blushed. I was still a little flustered from that kiss.

Matt held the car door open for me and I went to sit in the passenger seat. Matt got in the drivers seat, buckled up and started reversing. The car journey was lovely and peaceful. There was soft music playing in the atmosphere. The ride was really short as downtown was only a 5 minute ride. Matt turned in to the parking lot and parked. He got out of his seat and ran round to my side and held the car door open for me once more. He had his hand ready for me to grab it and help myself stand up. We walked to the entrance and waited to be seated at a table.

The restaurant was beautiful, there were dimly lit candles surrounding the tables and rustic chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. It was packed in here. A waiter came over and took us to our table. Me and Matt had settled nicely. We were sat next to a beautiful bundle of flowers. I admired the colours and variety of petals. I was too busy looking at the flowers to realise that Matt had taken a photo of me.

"Two of my favourite things, you and flowers." He blushed. i smiled softly and looked at the menu. God this place was expensive, I feel bad asking Matt to take me. A wine was 20 dollars. "Are you okay?" Matt asked.

"It's just expensive, that's all." I reply.

"Hey, don't worry about the price. I'm paying anyway." He smiled.

"But I feel bad Matt." I say again.

"Don't be, I wanted to take you here. If I was that worried about the price then we wouldn't have come here in the first place. Get what you want sweetie." he smiled once more and gazed back at the menu.

A waiter arrived at our table and asked for drinks.

"I'll just have a beer please." Matt ordered. I gave Matt a funny look. "What? I'm driving." He winked.

"And you ma'am." The waiter looked over at me.

"I'll have a red wine please." I said and handed my menu over to the waiter. The waiter left and now it was just me and Matt.

"Thank you again, for tonight Matt. It means a lot to me." I blushed.

"You don't have to thank me baby." He responded.

The rest of the evening consisted of me and Matt lightly flirting with each other (even though we were already dating), and small conversations. We were talking about work, and any plans that we wanted for the next week. We also got onto the topic of any plans or aspirations we wanted in the further future like a family, marriage and things like that. We also had some light banter here and there.

We had finished eating and the food was amazing. The waiter came back to our table and cleared the table and left us alone again. We stayed talking like this for a while. Then after a bit more of talking Matt asked for the check. Matt paid and then we left the restaurant.

The ride back home was filled with a comfortable silence. I leaned my head on the window and closed my eyes temporarily. Matt had his hand resting on my thigh, he traced small circles on it with his finger tips. I had fallen asleep after these calming patterns.

We had arrived home and Matt carried me upstairs to our room. He took off my heels carefully and placed them back into my closet. Matt reached over to my arm and shook me slightly.

"Y/N." He said softly in a sing-song tune. I woke up from my comfortable slumber and sat up, using my arms to support my weight. "I'm just going to get you ready for bed, I didn't want to do it while you were asleep. Is that okay?"

"Mhmm." I mumbled under my breath.

Matt pulled my dress up my thighs softly and slid the straps down my shoulders and brought my arms out of them so it would be easier to take off. Matt went back down to the hem of the dress and pulled it up over my head. Matt took the dress and put it in the laundry basket. I folded my arms to cover my chest, I felt a bit embarrassed. Matt took my pyjamas out of my draws and brought them to my side.

"Baby, you don't need to cover up. It's just me." He smiled reassuringly. Matt had never seen me like this before. So vulnerable. Me and Matt hadn't done anything with each other than kissing and hand placements. We didn't want to move to fast in the relationship. Matt took my wrists and lowered them from my chest. He tried not to look but he couldn't help himself. "You're so beautiful baby." He said once more. He took my pyjama shirt and slid it over my head and helped my arms through the holes. Then he took my plaid bottoms and brought them over my legs.

Matt tucked me into bed and we cuddled for the rest of the night. Before we knew it we were both asleep in each others embrace. This really was the perfect date night.

Banner credits to @bernardsbendystraws <3

Hey guys! i hope you really enjoyed this fanfic! If you have any suggestions/requests please do not hesitate to send me a message and i will try and get back to you asap! <3

#matt sturniolo #sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo imagine #matt x reader #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #dad!matt #nicolas sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matthew imagines #matthew sturniolo x reader #.｡*ﾟ+.*Remi's corner *.+*ﾟ.｡

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hometoursandotherstuff · 9 months ago

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Historic 1769 Colonial style home in Keymar, MD has been renovated and redecorated in a variety of styles. Firstly, they painted the distinctive brick exterior pale gray, with an orange door. It doesn't look bad, but it's not the traditional, iconic look. It has 4bds, 4ba, 5,227 sq ft, and they're asking $3m. If you are a purist when it comes to historic homes, you probably won't like it.

Now, remember- I said that it was done in a variety of styles. The entrance hall has Oriental themed wallpaper. They stripped the newel post and railing on the stairs and left it bare wood, (I like that look, but it needs a flat protective finish, b/c it's going to get very dirty), plus a new floor has an inlaid border.

The light fixture was removed from the ceiling medallion and they did a copper-look design on it.

The sitting room is very non-traditional with it's bright green walls but the ceiling mural has a colonial scene. Above the fireplace they have colored mirror squares.

The next room has a large jungle leaf print and a wooden hippo, elephant, plus a trunk.

This room has a wall of shelving and opens to hall stairs.

The family room has a dark, rustic, nautical look with black and deep green walls. This room has wood paneling that was painted over, plus a brick trim around the top. I wonder if they darkened the brick.

I have seen faux aged walls, but this one looks like black mold. It's well done, but unusual. They left the pocket doors and beadboard, but painted them dark gray. Ironically, the sink cabinet looks very colonial.

The tub has a framed skull print above it and some stuffed animals on the ledge. The shower is modern.

The dining room is gray & black with a French cabinet. The table is a pine colonial.

The large kitchen has a rustic ceiling and 3 different cabinet colors- blue, gray, and colonial red. The ceiling looks like flooring to me. The glassware cabinet looks French.

The open concept space has a dining room with a big stone fireplace and stripped doors on the patio. The gold glassware shelf is a French pastry stand.

The primary bedroom has a traditional look. Nice big fireplace in here. The wood paneling was painted white and there's a mural on the coffered ceiling.

This smaller bedroom has nice wallpaper. It even has a colonial rocking horse in the fireplace.

This is a lovely bath. I like the cabinet and closets.

There's a 2 car garage with a space between that they've turned into a home gym/man cave. There's also a sleeping area.

They painted this beautiful barn-turned-home a dark gray, including this wonderful brick wall on the side.

It's lovely inside with slate flooring.

There's also storage for the big Home Depot skeleton.

This garage has a sitting room downstairs and more of a hangout space upstairs.

The main house has a patio.

Lots of space. There's even another small stone building.

There's also a pond on the 25.02 acres of property.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/11210-Cash-Smith-Rd-Keymar-MD-21757/67480669_zpid/?

#colonial homes #historic homes #houses #house tours #home tour

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tavolgisvist · 5 months ago

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A rush of unstoppable wordplay was one of Lennon’s inherently Liverpudlian facets, for the city can scarcely express itself in any other way. In the background noise of his childhood, it might be football terrace jeering:

Holy, holy, holy, Ten full backs and a goalie.

Or maybe playground taunts: Oompah, oompah, stick it up yer jumper.

Nautical coarseness: The Mersey banks Was made for Yanks And little girls like Ivy, Yd twiddle with Ivy's flue, wouldn't you?

Or else the ‘sky blue pink’ Surrealism of ordinary conversation. There is a very old Liverpool rhyme (from at least the 1900s), entitled ‘I Went to a Chinese Laundry’. This is how it goes: * I went to a Chinese laundry, I asked for a piece of bread, They wrapped me up in a table cloth And sent me off to bed. I saw an Indian maiden, She stood about ten feet high, Her hair was painted sky blue pink And she only had one eye. I saw a pillow box floating, I jumped in rather cool, It only took me fourteen days To get to Liverpool.

Singing: Ah, Black Sam the Negro, Abajou, abajou, jay, Carder Bungalow Sam.

That was collected by the folklorist Frank Shaw off a man in Woolton. I don’t know if John Lennon ever heard all of those rhymes. But in them, whether by coincidence or influence, are premonitions of so many better-known songs: ‘Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds’, ‘I Am the Walrus’, ‘Happiness Is a Warm Gun’, ‘The Continuing Story of Bungalow Bill’, ‘Across the Universe’ . . . And, as to music, the rolling, hymn-like piano chords of ‘Imagine’ recall Lennon’s earliest roots, for long before Elvis Presley and rock’n’roll, there was Church of England Sunday school. Aunt Mimi remembered him as ‘a nicely-spoken boy attending church three times on Sunday of his own free will, in the church choir.

The echoes of Anheld and Goodison, church parades and strike rallies, back alley chants and market traders: Lennon’s songs resound with all the din of urban Liverpool. But he also grew up surrounded by the serenity of park lands. In his district there was an extraordinary abundance of green. Calderstones, Sefton, Princes, Reynolds, Woolton Wood, Strawberry Field, even Allerton 'Golf Course - these supplied him with silence and beauty to nourish his imagination.

Around themall, beyond the docks, there was the graceful swveep of the Mersey river’s rustic stretch: a river with nothing to do but mirror the heart-stopping vastness of the sky. This was not the side of his childhood that he often acknowledged. He preferred to say things like, ‘We were the first working-class entertainers that stayed working-class and pronounced it and didn’t try and change our accents.’

Back in Menlove Avenue, though, John’s Aunt Mimi took a more sceptical view: ‘Until John met Paul and the others,’ she told the Sunday People, ‘John spoke what I call the King’s English without a trace of a Liverpool accent. One day I complained when he lapsed into broad Liverpudlian. He turned on me, saying he felt embarrassed by his accent and suddenly ran upstairs in a fit of temper. Leaning over the banisters he yelled “Dat, Dese, Dem and Dose”.’

...

Now, as Paul attains what his father used to call ‘my great venereal age��...

(Liverpool - Wondrous Place by Paul Du Noyer, 2002)

Part (I), (II), (III), (IV), (V), (VI), (VII), (VIII), (IX), (X), (XI), (XII), (XIII), (XIV), (XV), (XVI), (XVII), (XVIII), (XIX), (XX), (XXI), (XXII), (XIII), (XV), (XVI)

#paul du noyer #liverpool #john lennon #paul mccartney #george harrison #john and paul #scouse #aunt mimi #jim mccartney

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 2 years ago

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"Mirror, Mirror, on the Wall, Who's the Fairest of Them All?"

This set of headcanons was the most difficult for me to write for of the 7 dorms. I think it’s because I don’t immediately associate Pomefiore with any group activities, unlike most of the others.

Note: Rollo does not canonically dislike apples, I just decided to run with it to go along with the whole joke of him being Catholic... and how apples are representative of "the first sin" in much of pop culture.

A Big Pomefiore Welcome to Rollo!

Four dormitory visits in, and Rollo's dreading the next. He expects it to be every bit as exhausting as the first four were, whether physically or mentally. But no, he won't let his spirit be broken, won't let these NRC students under his skin!! Rollo trudges onward.

Pomefiore boasts a pleasant atmosphere right as he enters their realm. It is filled with soft birdsong and lush greenery, sunshine coming down upon his face. He shields his eyes and squints at the rustic castle towering ahead. it's grand, imposing, and filled with rich history. So far, so good.

At this point, Rollo expects someone to jump out of the bushes to annoy him, but the entire walk to the entrance is uneventful. Something is very wrong here, he thinks, slowly rapping on the doors. Does a jump scare await him beyond it? Rollo braces himself when the doors creak open and push out.

“Bienvenu, Roi du Mouchoir!!” an irritatingly familiar voice calls out to him. Rook rushes at Rollo at a frightening speed, nearly crushing the man's bones in a hug he's too slow to avoid. An arm coiling around him like a snake, a hand on the small of his back, Rook happily welcomes Rollo inside.

The huntsman talks. Incessantly. He talks about how happy he is to be reunited with him, he talks about the beautiful weather, he talks about the wonderful reception Pomefiore has painstakingly planned to welcome his arrival. He just about never stops talking, never wipes that big, dumb smile off of his face. It’s plainly unsettling.

Rollo utters a sharp “Tais-toi!”, which finally silences Rook (but only for about all of 5 seconds). His eyes crease, and something about his expression reminds Rollo of a hungry fox. “Ah, I see that your fiery fervor has yet to dim. Harboring such unyielding ideals… Fufufu, that tenacious spirit of yours makes you a wonderful fit in the realm of the Beautiful Queen.”

“Tch. You keep speaking in that overly familiar tone of voice,” Rollo snips as he and Rook come to a new set of doors, “acting as though we’re on amicable terms, ushering me into your fold. Make no mistake, I do NOT plan on becoming intimate with…”

The doors open into an opulent lounge decorated for a fancy reception. Streamers are suspended from the ceiling, confetti dusting open seats, vases of flowers topping ever counter, petals spilling in a luxurious waterfall from one table. Sitting upon elegant purple cloths are plates of hors d'oeuvres and flutes with sparkling liquids.

Students in robes with billowing sleeves are scattered around a throne where a beautiful man sits. Nervously standing at the seated queen’s side is a shorter boy with fluffy lilac hair and large eyes. Their gazes momentarily meet, and there’s a flicker of recognition in both of them. It’s Epel Felmier from the masquerade.

Rook approaches, sweeping his feathered hat off and bowing. “Je suis revenu.” There’s a nod from the beautiful man—the dorm’s ruler, Rollo believes—as he raises a hand to the onlookers. “Thank you for escorting our guest to the venue, Rook. Now then, let the festivities begin.” The Pomefiore students clap politely for him as soft orchestral music begins to play, as if by magic.

“Well then, my friend—” (“We are NOT friends,” Rollo sharply corrects Rook.) “—please enjoy yourself! As sorrowful as it is to part ways, cruel Fate dictates it must be so. Worry not, our paths will surely cross again! Until then, I leave you with this token to remember me by.” Rook produces a rose from his sleeve and slips it into Rollo’s hat, then prances off to his dorm leader.

Rollo removed the the rose crushes it in his palm like a stress ball. He lets the crumpled flower fall to his feet, mingling with the petals already on the polished floor.

“Erm, Rook-senpai… Is it okay to really let him walk around the party without supervision?” Epel asks as his upperclassman draws near. “Won’t he… um, you know??” (To this, Rook chuckles. “Non, we needn’t worry. Acting so boldly in broad daylight is not to his style.“)

Rollo tries to minimize his presence, finding some quiet corner to stand in until the reception ends. Unfortunately for him, Pomefiore students keep walking up to chat. He’s on edge, expecting them to be combative or nosy—but no, he finds that they’re a more insidious kind of evil… the underhanded, subtler sort.

Many of the mob students compliment his outfit. However just as many of them raise their eyebrows when they see him up close. They coo about how Rollo’s complexion looks so haggard and how he has such dark circles under his eyes. (A few of them also remark that his haircut is “a choice”.)

Some mob students start giving him (uncalled for) beauty tips and product recommendations. Retinol creams, vitamin C serums, sleeping masks—all manner of lotions and potions to supposedly “fix” his dark circles and sickly look.

Rollo takes their words as gracefully as he can, but inside his annoyance steadily accumulates. (How shallow and frivolous their interests are!! And how dare they try to impose their vain standards onto him?!)

The conversation soon takes a turn into history, a subject which he finds much more enjoyable. He hears of the Beautiful Queen and passes on stories of the Righteous Judge—equal parts give and take.

Rollo learns that their dorm leader, Vil, is skilled in the laboratory. Potions, poisons… he can brew them all. “He even tends to our plants and harvests them to create his own cosmetics,” a mob student excitedly tells Rollo. “That’s our Vil-sama!”

“What a coincidence. I, too, partake in gardening as a hobby.” Rollo chooses his words very carefully, but still a smirk finds its way onto his face. He can’t help but sneer a little at these hapless fools (who misinterpret the look as an awkward attempt at a smile). “Fufufu, yes… I do so love flowers of a crimson color in particular. Lotuses have a charm to them as well. The red ones are reminiscent of fire.”

Every time Rollo has to take an aside to cover his (frequent) grimaces with his handkerchief, the Pomefiore mobs remark on how thoughtful and graceful it is for him to do such a thing. They start talking about how they, too, should invest in their own handkerchiefs—what colors and designs should they consider? “… Any will do,” Rollo grumbles.

When he thinks about it, a lot of the Pomefiore mobs’ admiration for Vil reminds him of his own peers back at NBC. They stare at him with sparkling eyes full of adoration, praising him for every achievement, falling over themselves to be at his beck and call. Hmph, how foolish.

A feeling of unease never fully leaves Rollo as he converses with others. He feels as though he’s still being watched by Rook—yet when he glances over to check on the huntsman, he seems preoccupied whispering into Vil’s ear or laughing a something Epel said. As soon as Rollo looks away, that eerie sensation returns.

When the mob students finally retreat into their own smaller circles and cliques, Rollo decides to have a light snack to regain all that energy he just expended entertaining nosy idiots. He’s pleased to find foods that remind him of home: charcuterie boards, cheeses, grapes, breads—

An awkward cough sounds from behind him. “W-Would you like some juice, sir?” It’s Epel, shyly offering a glass to him. (From a distance, Rook nods encouragingly and gives him two thumbs up. Vil sighs, swirling around liquid in a goblet of his own.)

“You were sent personally,” Rollo remarks. (Epel was; Vil had prodded him to go so he could observe how he handled himself in a strained social situation.) “Why?” (“You um… seemed thirsty?”)

“It’s not poisoned, is it?” Rollo asks suspiciously, cautiously accepting the glass. (“N-Nossir! It ain’t! I swear it on mah life!!” Epel insists.) He peers inside and finds golden juice. “This must be apple. Do you have an alternative? Perhaps grape.”

“E-Eh?” Epel seems surprised (and mildly offended) by the request. “You prefer grapes to apples?” ("I do. Apples may keep for a long time relative to other fruits, but I find the texture of them to be quite mealy and difficult to get down.")

"Mealy?!" Epel's outburst draws the attention of everyone in the room (including Vil, who does not look pleased). The first year mutters an apology before returning to Rollo. "I'm sure there's some kind of apple you must like...? There's many new breeds out now because of advances in MMOs."

"Magically modified organisms?" Rollo sneers at the idea. "What makes you think I would want to ingest produce that has been touched by magic? The concept itself is abhorrent. Apples were simply meant to be the lesser fruit."

"LESSER FRUIT?!" Epel's even louder (and more appalled) this time. “You oughta take that back ‘fore I…!” Vil frowns and rises from his throne. Epel pales and instantly shuts up as his dorm leader sashays toward them.

"My, I do hope our Epel isn't imposing on you," Vil drawls, glaring at the first year. Epel's prepared to be chewed out--but miraculously, he's spared with the wave of Vil's hand. (He scrambles off with Rook, leaving Rollo to Vil.) "As you can plainly see, there’s still much work to be done in terms of his manners and temperament. Some potatoes take more time and effort to whip into shape than others, I'm afraid."

“Of course. I completely understand.” Rollo’s reply is terse and stiff as he regards Vil—a famous face he recalls seeing in various works, posted about almost religiously online. An idol for the masses, is his immediate thought, flaunting about like a primping peacock. Pushing products and an excessive lifestyle for others to ogle and covet. Encouraging sin.

Epel gives Rollo a dirty look when he’s sure Vil isn’t looking. “No way can anyone hate apples and be a good person!! His heart is pure black, Rook-senpai!!" Epel clutches onto the robes of his upperclassman. "He definitely still can’t be trusted!!”

“I don't believe I've had the chance to formally introduce myself." Vil slowly swirls around the carbonated apple juice in his own goblet. "Vil Schoenheit—a pleasure. I’ve heard so many stories about you.” None of them good, Rollo suspects.

With a glance around the room, Vil sighs. He gestures to the garden that awaits beyond a window. “It’s getting to be a bit stuffy in here. Would you care to take this outside?”

Rollo seizes the opportunity to escape from the suffocating space and prying eyes. He enters the night, finding comfort in the darkness and silence. For a moment, he almost forgets that Vil is with him—until he hears the distinctive clacking of a sharp nail against glass.

“I hope Pomefiore’s hospitality has met your standards,” Vil says nonchalantly. “Rook tells me you’re very particular.” And truthfully? Rollo confesses to him that it’s been the least abrasive of the dorms he has visited thus far. Vil makes a face. “… I had my expectations set low for some of the others, but I can’t fathom what horrors you’ve experienced at the their hands.“

“You have some sense in you.” What a shame it is that you are a mage. Rollo doesn’t speak his true thoughts out loud, but Vil seems to sense the animosity radiating off of him.

He gives a snooty laugh. “You must think little of me. As an A-list actor, I can see easily through your facade. Let’s drop the pretenses, hmm? I’d like to speak with the real Rollo Flamme.” At the invitation, Rollo scowls. Vil smirks right back. “That’s more like it.”

“… What is it that you want? There must be a reason why you’ve gone out of your way to isolate us from the rest of them.”

“A queen can be curious,” Vil explains in a dismissive manner. He sweeps a golden lock behind one ear, treating the scene no different from another set. The moonlight on him as he delivers a soliloquy. “… It goes without saying that I do not approve of your methods. However, there is something to be said of your doggedness. That, at least, deserved to be lauded.”

“You’re congratulating me.” Rollo says it as a statement of disbelief.

“In a way, yes.” Vil’s laugh is low and cruel. “The more you want something, the harder is it to obtain. It’s never quite so simple. You’re promised the world as a child, and then you grow up and realize the world doesn’t owe you a happy ending no matter how hard you bite and hiss and claw for it. I know of that frustration well myself.”

Vil wants the truth? He’ll get the truth. Rollo lets the vitriol slip into his voice, turning it pointed and poisonous. “I’m appalled that you would even imply that we are similar. Do not compare me with the likes of you…!”

“Am I wrong? Please, enlighten me.” There’s a newfound satisfaction in Vil’s expression. He knows he has not won, but that he has gotten under Rollo’s skin. “It’s difficult to put on a smile and act as though all is well, isn’t it? That’s the burden we bear. The roles we are expected to play.” Vil smiles a bit. “Perhaps in another life, I would have welcomed you as a student of my dormitory.”

“If a second life exists, I would want a life of normalcy—not to be jailed in your gilded cage of a castle,” Rollo spits out. “I would wish to be free of this burning curse. I would have him back.” I could be happy again in that fairer world.

Vil nods and solemnly lifts his glass. “… To your wish upon a star—and your efforts to realize it.” Rollo finds himself mimicking the motion, compelled by a feeling he doesn’t recognize. Is it a pledge to never give up, even if the world is against him? Is it a part of him acknowledging Vil’s harsh truth? He doesn’t know.

They toast and raise the cups to their lips. Somehow, the apple juice tastes bittersweet on both of their tongues.

With that, Vil turns away. Heels clicking rhythmically, he follows the warm lights spilling out from Pomefiore back inside. He will return to the reception, mingle with his subjects. Maybe scold Epel as he had initially intended to, or tell Rook off for coming onto their guest too strongly.

Rollo is alone in the night.

… Or so he thinks, until a hand comes upon his shoulder.

“Roi du Mouchoir,” Rook says softly, emerging from the shadows as though he were born among them, “Let us make haste back to the reception. You’re the guest of honor—it wouldn’t do to have you running off on us! Ah, but if you do… I would be more than happy to chase you down to the ends of Twisted Wonderland to retrieve you.”

“Wha…?! Where did you come from?!” Rollo jerks away from him with a yelp, which doesn’t seem to bother Rook at all. He keeps smiling that crude, large smile of his and claps. “Très bien, you’re still brimming with vitality for the rest of the evening! Come now, let us return!”

His patience snaps.

“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll keep far away from me!!”

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst headcanons #twisted wonderland headcanons #Vil Schoenheit #Epel Felmier #Pomefiore #Rook Hunt #Rollo Flamme #disney twisted wonderland #Rollo at the Writing Desk

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simstorian-blog · 1 year ago

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Sandtrap Flat

(CC List + Links)

World Map: Oasis Springs

Area: Bedford Strait

Lot Size: 30 x 20

Gallery ID: Simstorian-ish

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David’s Apartment Pt. 1 (Books 3 & 4)

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#simstorian #the sims 4 #sims 4 #ts4 #cc #ts4 simblr #build #sims 4 build #oasis springs #bedford strait #sandtrap flat #residential lot #colorful #interior design #blacksimmer

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vol2eddie · 2 years ago

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IS THIS LOVE OR AM I DREAMING?

Eddie Munson x Reader

Bare feet patter across the bathroom tiles as Purple Rain plays, crackling under the needle of your record player, and in soft spatters against every window. In the room across the hall, he was waiting for you. Waiting for you to crawl back into his arms, under the silken, ivory sheets.

The towel that had been warmed on the radiator wasn’t as soft as his hands were on your face. The light in his eyes, when he looked at you, was brighter than the one above you. His ambrosial musk clinging to your skin, the smell of leather and cigarettes invading your senses.

You’re content as your see your own reflection in the mirror. Satisfied. Comfortable. Loved.

Hanging the towel over the edge of the bathtub and switching off the light, you head out of the bathroom and back to your room. Back to him.

Seeing him there had your gaze softening. Head half on the pillow, hair was strewn wild. His long eyelashes create shadows on the top of his cheeks. On his bottom half now are those flannel pants you love so much, strings tied in a knot at the waist. His knee is bent, one leg folded under the other. A strong, inked arm resting against his bare stomach as the other lay above his head, bicep flexing with the stretch. The low glow of the lamp on your bedside table highlights the right side of his figure, a warm yellow hue painting his pale skin. He looked peaceful on your side of the bed.

You watch the rise and fall of his chest, your presence looming over him.

His eyes crack open to see you standing there, at the foot of the bed, watching him, ogling him. A smirk takes over his face, small puffs of air leaving his nose as his stomach tensed, Adam’s apple moving up and down. You lift your head at the sound of his chuckles and finally meet his eyes, dark pools of honey, full of warmth and adoration.

He pulls both of his hands to his face, covering it, swiping them over his features as his face grows warm under your gaze.

The sound of the small thud as his hands hit the mattress pulls your eyes from him. A knowing grin present on both of your faces.

Sitting up from his lazy position, he beckons you over with a nod of his head, arms reaching for you. The veins that decorate them make your head spin. His stomach is soft and his hair falls perfectly in dark brown waves, framing his face. His sweet smile makes you ache, a deep affection in the well of his dimples.

You reach for his hand with intent before pulling away and twirling gracefully, feet tap against the wooden floor as you dance away from him, giggling, teasingly.

His jaw falls as he moves his hand to cover his heart. The sound coming from you makes his chest flutter.

“Stop teasing me, c’mere.”

He extends his arms towards you again, taking both of your hands in his as you lean against the rustic, metal bed frame. Calloused thumbs caress your knuckles as he holds your fingers gently in his.

One of your knees lifts to rest on the bed, balancing you as you lean forward, longing in your eyes, and in his.

His anchor. He’s pulling you in, grip never faltering. The front of your body drags along the bed, creasing the already wrinkled sheets, until your face is only a breath away from his.

Legs in between legs, chest to chest as he lays back with you. The weight of your body securing him, grounding him.

Letting go of your hands as his body twists, his leg intertwining with yours, an arm travelling along your back, enveloping you as his hand curls around your waist, holding you close.

One hand rests on his shoulder as the other comes up to the back of his neck in a tender embrace, your nails scratching, goosebumps arising all over his body. His hair snakes around your fingers in ringlets. Every part of you intertwined.

A hand comes up to move the fallen strands from your face and neck, the rough pads of fingertips dancing over your delicate features. He gives you a look as his arm tightens, your back arching into him.

Hair tickles you as he buries his face in the warm divot above your shoulder, peppering tiny kisses there, showering you in devotion. His pulse jumps at the sound of your honeyed giggles in his ear, a twinge in his chest.

His arm moves up the length of your spine, the hand once on your waist meets the back of your neck as your boyfriend pulls his head up to look at you again. His look of love never ceases, even when his gaze moves to your lips.

A fulfilled sigh falls from his mouth as he leans into you. Parting lips crash into yours, his hand moving to cup your cheek. His electric touch ignites a rousing sensation throughout your body. Noses pushed together, thumbs brushing your cheeks, lips moving together in gentle urgency.

To bask in this forever is all you could ask for.

#my writing!#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fluff #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fan fiction

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twistedreads · 3 months ago

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Midnight in Paris — Peter Parker

Summary: You’re in Paris with your boyfriend Peter Parker for a school trip, and it also happens to be your one year anniversary.

Warning—Fluff, sweet romance

Black F reader

A/n : rewatching far from home and got inspired

Masterlist

You’re sitting on the hotel bed, one leg tucked under you, scrolling through your phone while your roommate snores softly on the other side of the room. The Eiffel Tower glows through the crack in the curtains—your first time in Paris, and somehow, it still doesn’t feel real. Neither does the fact that you’ve been dating Peter Parker for a whole year.

Well. Almost a year.

Tomorrow marks exactly 365 days since that ridiculously chaotic first kiss behind the Midtown science building, when he had just come back from stopping a runaway drone and you’d just failed your chem quiz. You’d both been a mess—and somehow, it worked.

Your phone buzzes in your hand.

Peter: meet me in the lobby in 20. wear something nice pls.

You stare at the message. Blink. Then read it again. He adds another a second later.

Peter: like…really nice. like pretty-dress-nice. idk just trust me ok?

You grin. Typical Peter.

Twenty minutes later, you’re gliding through the quiet hotel hallway, your dress swaying with every step. It’s orange, soft and flowing, the kind that hugs in the right places and moves like it was made to be in Paris. You pulled your butterfly locs up into a clean, messy bun—intentional and effortless, with your baby hairs laid perfectly at the edges. You felt pretty when you looked in the mirror, but the way Peter looks at you in the lobby?

Whole different level.

He’s standing near a potted plant, hair tousled, nervously fixing the collar of his button-up. He’s in slacks, which is rare. A blazer that looks slightly too big, probably borrowed. He’s chewing on the inside of his cheek, checking his phone, until he looks up and sees you.

His whole face changes.

He stares, then forgets he’s staring, then catches himself staring and looks away, cheeks going red.

“Whoa,” he breathes when you reach him. “I mean—hi. Uh. You look…you look incredible. Like—like really beautiful.”

You smile, biting your lip. “You clean up nice too, Parker.”

He opens his mouth to say something else, probably something awkward, then just offers his hand instead. You take it without a second thought.

Outside, Paris hums with life. The air is warm, buzzing with the low chatter of late-night cafés and the occasional hum of a passing Vespa. Peter doesn’t say where you’re going. He just leads you, fingers laced with yours, heart probably beating as fast as yours is.

“You’ve been acting weird all week,” you say as you walk. “Like…more Peter-weird than usual.”

“Rude,” he mutters, then smiles. “Okay, yeah. I’ve just been trying to plan this for a while. I mean, it’s our anniversary. And we’re in Europe. I wanted it to be perfect but like…everything kept going wrong. I was gonna book this rooftop thing, but it rained, then I tried to get us tickets to this exhibit and it sold out, and—” he stops himself and looks at you.

“This is what I could do.”

You squeeze his hand. “This is already perfect.”

He takes you to a little restaurant tucked between two buildings, one you wouldn’t have even noticed if he hadn’t led you to it. Candlelight flickers through the windows. Inside, the place is small, intimate. A little rustic. French jazz plays low in the background.

The host greets Peter by name, which is suspicious.

“Did you bribe someone?” you whisper as you’re led to a small table by the window.

“I may or may not have helped someone catch their runaway dog this morning,” he whispers back. “And maybe mentioned I was trying to impress my girlfriend.”

You try to act cool, but you’re smiling so hard it hurts.

Dinner is slow, the good kind of slow. The two of you order food you can barely pronounce, share bites off each other’s plates, laugh way too loud when Peter tries to flirt in broken French and accidentally calls you his grandma. He holds your hand on the table and under it. His foot taps yours sometimes, and you can’t tell if it’s on purpose or not.

After dinner, Peter insists on walking. “I have one more thing.”

You let him lead you through narrow streets lit by old lamps and the occasional neon sign. He pulls you close whenever someone zips by on a bike. At one point, he buys you both gelato from a corner cart and grins like a kid when yours starts melting faster than you can eat it.

Eventually, you end up by the Seine, where the water glows with reflections of the city.

“I wanted to tell you something,” he says suddenly.

You glance at him, your shoulder brushing his. “Okay.”

He’s nervous again. That adorable, awkward nervous that only Peter Parker can pull off.

“I know we already said it,” he says. “The ‘I love you’ thing. But…I just—I still mean it. More than ever.”

You blink. Your chest tightens in that good, warm way.

“I love you too,” you say, and your voice is softer than you expected it to be.

He leans in then, careful, eyes flicking from your lips to your eyes and back again like he’s asking permission. You meet him halfway.

The kiss is slow. Sure. His hand finds your waist. Yours curls around the back of his neck. When you finally break apart, your forehead stays pressed to his.

“Should we head back?” he asks, reluctantly.

You sigh. “Yeah.”

You walk back in comfortable silence. But when you reach the elevator, something pulls at you. You turn, wrap your arms around him again, and kiss him once more.

Then again, before the elevator dings open.

And again, after it closes behind him.

You don’t want to say goodnight. Not yet.

You call after him in a whisper-yell. “Peter—”

He turns.

“One more,” you say, running to him.

He catches you with a smile, and this time, the kiss is a little deeper. A little longer.

He laughs when you finally pull away. “You keep doing that, and I’m never gonna let you go.”

“Good,” you whisper.

You wake up the next morning smiling.

The Paris light slips through the curtains soft and golden, warming your face and nudging you out of sleep. For a second, you just lie there, replaying last night in your head—the way Peter looked at you in that orange dress, how he couldn’t stop staring. The dinner, the walk, the way he kissed you like he didn’t want the night to end. The way you kept running back for more.

Your roommate’s still out cold, knocked out with an eye mask and one earbud hanging halfway out. You slip out of bed, still wearing the oversized Midtown t-shirt Peter gave you months ago. You don’t even realize you’re smiling again until you’re brushing your teeth and catch your reflection.

Your phone buzzes on the counter.

Peter: good morning beautiful :)

You bite your lip, thumbs already flying.

You: morning, boyfriend :)

He replies almost immediately.

Peter: still thinking about last night. my face hurts from smiling. also I wanna see you.

You pause, heart doing a little flip.

You: wanna grab coffee before the museum tour?

Peter: yes. immediately. downstairs in 15?

You throw on some shorts and a tank, pull your locs down from the bun into a loose half-up, and head down. He’s already in the lobby, looking like he’s been there for a while—hair damp, probably fresh from a shower, and he’s bouncing on the balls of his feet like he’s trying not to sprint toward you the second he sees you.

You walk straight into his arms.

“Hi,” he says, breath soft in your ear.

“Hi,” you mumble into his hoodie, smiling into the fabric.

He pulls back just enough to kiss you. It’s quick, but full of that warm, giddy energy leftover from last night. His hand finds yours naturally as you head out, like it’s muscle memory at this point.

You find a little café on a side street with flaky croissants and strong coffee. Peter insists on paying, even though you roll your eyes. You sit at a tiny table by the window and just…talk. About everything. About nothing. He steals bites from your plate. You kick his foot when he does. He grins like it’s all the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

By the time you meet up with the rest of the group for the museum tour, it’s like nothing else matters. He keeps sneaking glances at you. He touches your hand every chance he gets. At one point, you both lag behind and he whispers, “Are we annoying? Like…are we that couple?”

You shrug. “Probably.”

“Cool. I like it.”

You lean into him. “Me too.”

After the tour, you walk with him back toward the hotel, lagging behind on purpose so the rest of the group doesn’t notice you both slipping off. He keeps brushing his fingers against yours like he’s waiting for you to take the lead. You do.

And once again, you’re out in the city—just the two of you. You’re not dressed up this time, not trying to impress anyone, but Peter looks at you like you hung the stars anyway. Like nothing in Paris could possibly compare.

Later that night, on the balcony of the hotel, the Eiffel Tower starts to sparkle. You’re sitting side by side, legs stretched out, his hoodie wrapped around your shoulders because you were cold and he’s too warm-blooded to notice the chill.

He turns his head toward you slowly.

“You ever think about what it’s gonna be like…after this?” he asks. “Like, when we’re back in New York. When we’re in college. Real life.”

You rest your head on his shoulder. “All the time.”

“I don’t want this to be one of those summer romance things,” he says. “I want it to be…everything. Always.”

You sit up a little to look at him. “It already is.”

He leans in. This kiss is quieter. Slower. The kind you feel down to your toes.

And when it breaks, you whisper, “I’m not saying goodnight first.”

He smiles, all teeth and nerves and love.

“I wasn’t planning on saying it at all.”

#peter parker imagines #tom holland #tom holland imagines #spiderman #far from home #peter parker #imagine #fanfic #marvel #one year anniversary

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