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thewintersoldierdisaster · 3 days ago

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a/n: the final holiday fic! i always love doing a svech family moment and this was beyond fun to write 🥰 and with that, i’ll be quiet on the fic front since i’m a little wiped out lmao. thank you guys for always being so awesome and have a fabulous holiday!! 🤍

word count: 2.2k

tw: domestic fluff

summary: getting all five kids to work together on one project always makes for a memorable afternoon

Andrei drops the grocery bags on the counter, ruffling the recipe printouts with the little gust of air. “I think this is last of it,” he says, frowning as he digs through the bags.

You look up from the notepad you’re scribbling a list on and poke your pen into one of the handles to tug it down. “Oh, good, you got the regular honey Teddy Grahams. The last time we made these, I accidentally bought cinnamon and I thought Al was going to stab me,” you say dryly.

“We don’t want that,” Andrei laughs and kisses the top of your head. He starts unpacking the bags, lining all the ingredients up on the counter. You tick each item off your list as it appears, sighing in relief when everything is marked off.

“Okay, we’ve got all the ingredients for all the cookies,” you sigh, looking up at your husband. “Remind me again why I thought a baking day with all five kids was a good idea?”

Andrei grins and puts two cartons of eggs into the fridge. “Because you’re the best mom,” he replies. “And you want all the babies happy.”

“I’m not a baby!” Dimitri comes stomping into the kitchen. “I’m six!”

He’s wearing a miniature helmet and carrying a mini stick, whacking at the baseboards as he goes. You pin him with a glare, because he knows he’s only allowed to hit the foam pucks or balls with the stick and only in the basement. He looks a little sheepish and holds the stick behind his back.

Andrei leans down to pinch his cheek. “We know you are not a baby, Dimka,” he says, trying to hide his laugh.

“But you’re our baby, always,” you finish. “Evie’s still our baby, even though she’s twelve.”

“Evie’s too bossy to be a baby,” Dimitri grumbles, rushing at Andrei’s legs. Andrei jumps out of the way, laughing, and catches the boy around the waist to pretend fight him. Childish giggles fill the room as they go, knocking into the counters and chairs.

The commotion attracts the rest of your kids and they appear in the kitchen one by one. Alina and Kira appear together, your youngest daughter’s face covered in glitter for some inexplicable reason. You’re not in the mood to question it, but you do wince at the trail of glitter that she leaves in her wake. Alina immediately jumps into the chaos with Andrei and Dimitri, giggling as she distracts Andrei for Dimitri to get a few good whacks in at his legs.

“Mom,” Kira climbs up onto your lap, getting glitter everywhere. “Can I get my letter to Santa back? I wanna add something.”

You internally cringe. It’s a week before Christmas and you finally had the kids send off their letters to Santa a few days ago because he “needs time to make the presents!” and you need time to make sure you got the stuff that was most important off their lists.

A last minute change up could throw a wrench in your carefully plotted and executed plans.

“We sent off the letters, baby,” you remind her, brushing glitter from her eyebrows. “What did you want to add?”

“Oh,” she shrugs and hops off your lap, “I’ll just tell Canes and he’ll tell Santa.”

She disappears into the mess of husband and kids, which now includes Maks, who snuck in at some point when you were talking to Kira.

You try and muffle a groan with your hand. If Kira tells her latest gift wish to Canes - the Elf on a Shelf named for both your husband’s hockey team and candy canes, you’re actually pretty impressed with Evie and Alina for coming up with that one - you’re screwed since the hunk of plastic and stuffing obviously can’t speak.

Somehow, you’re going to have to figure out what’s going on in your middle kid’s brain. You’ll get Andrei and Evie on the case too.

Speaking of, your oldest wanders into the kitchen. She’s tying an apron around her waist, looking at you seriously. “Mom,” she plants her hands on the kitchen table and leans in, “we need to get baking! If we’re going to make cookie boxes for everyone, we’re already behind.”

Your little taskmaster.

You smile at her and tuck a strand of dark blonde hair back into her braid. “Bunny, Dad just got home from the grocery store. We’re going to get started any minute.”

“They don’t look like they’re ready to start,” Evie side-eyes her dad and siblings, frowning.

“They’ll fall in line,” you promise, standing up and tugging at her braid. “Let’s get everything set up in stations, okay? That’ll help.”

Evie doesn’t look like she quite believes you, but she attaches herself to your side and sorts the ingredients by recipe, using all the counter space and the island. When she and Alina had first decided they wanted to do cookies boxes for all of your friends and family, you’d been hesitant to add another heavy lift to your holiday to-do list. Especially when each kid - and Andrei - had insisted on picking their favorite cookie for the box, making it a little more complicated to coordinate at least six different recipes.

Evie had requested gingerbread, the soft kind not the hard kind because the hard kind is gross.

Alina was all in on the most tedious of “cookies” to put together - puff pastry with chocolate and a Teddy Graham made to look like the little bear shaped cookie was sleeping. Your most chaotic child with the most involved project.

You’d had to talk Kira out of the peanut butter cookies she insisted on - reminding her of the peanut allergies that some of your friends’ kids had. She’d compromised on sugar cookies rolled and shaped to look like candy canes.

The boys were easier. Maks insisted on chocolate chip cookies with “lots and lots of chcocolate” and Dimitri wanted the almond snowball cookies you’d made a few times before because he liked how much the powedered sugar puffed out when you accidentally exhaled when eating them.

Andrei had grinned at you as the kids listed out their cookie requests and you’d pinned him with a glare, murmuring, “if you pick something difficult, I’ll never let you in my pants again, I swear to god.”

He’d taken pity on you and picked a relatively simple lemon ginger cookie that you could make in your sleep.

Now, Evie commandeers the kitchen, pointing each of her siblings to a job. They fall in line relatively quickly and without complaint, but you’re sure they’ll get tired soon enough and rebel. For now, you tell Alexa to play a Christmas song mix and get the kids dancing as they help.

Andrei presses a kiss to your cheek, murmuring, “is it normal if I am afraid of our daughter?”

You giggle, Evie really is terrifying when she gets her mind set on something. She plants her hands on her hips and tells Maks he’s pouring the chocolate chips wrong and you have to swoop in before he starts to cry.

“Yes,” you agree quietly. “Totally normal because I am too.”

You pass Maks off to Andrei and your husband swings the five-year-old up onto his shoulders to keep him out from underfoot. He laughs and immediately grabs onto Andrei’s hair, “Dad! It’s like Remy, I’m Remy and you’re Lin-linweenie!”

A laugh bubbles out of your chest at Maks’s mispronunciation. Andrei grins at you and reaches up to tickle Maks’s side. He agrees with your youngest child and goes along with the game, listening as Maks directs him on what to do and correcting every time Maks gives him the wrong direction. You take a few minutes to really appreciate the way Andrei’s back and shoulder muscles move as he works.

He winks at you when he catches you watching.

You work with Dimitri on the snowball cookies, choking briefly on the cloud of powdered sugar he accidentally unleashes from the bag.

“Sorry, Mommy!” he yelps, looking concerned.

“I’m okay, baby,” you choke out, ruffling his hair while you cough into your shoulder. The cloud of sugar hangs slightly in the air and you know it’s going to settle into every crevice of the kitchen.

That’s a problem for a later time.

The girls manage to work together on their dough with minimal drama - of course you get the whine that Evie is bossy and Alina is messy and Kira is getting sprinkles everywhere even though there’s no sprinkles in the recipe. But for the most part, they’re working together nicely, which makes your mom heart really proud.

Like you predicted, they scatter to the wind after a few hours. Alina is the first to go, disappearing with a skip and a grin. Kira follows next, dragging Dimitri with her.

Maks is slumped over Andrei’s head, little hands on Andrei’s cheeks, and you know he has to be getting tired of holding the baby on his shoulders. But Andrei doesn’t say anything, continuing his job of scooping cookie dough out onto the baking sheets while telling Maks some kind of story. It’s really adorable.

Eventually Maks complains and wants to be let down, so Andrei swings him over his head. “There you go, Maks,” he says, ruffling the boy’s hair.

Maks slaps Andrei’s hand in a high-five, which is his latest move when saying hello or goodbye, and runs off into the den, screaming about wanting to watch Remy. The fact that he’s so obsessed with Ratatoille is cute, but you wish it had been a better movie for him to want to watch over and over.

“Dad and I can handle the rest, Eve,” you say to your last child standing. She’s carefully placing the gingerbread cookies an equal distance apart on the baking trays, tongue poked out of the corner of her mouth.

Andrei scoops a bit of raw cookie dough from the bowl and pops it in his mouth. “Yeah, zaychik, now is boring part. Putting trays in and out of oven,” he says, eyeing you in a way you know means he wants some alone time after the chaos of the last few hours with the kids.

“Promise you won’t let them burn?” She turns to face you both. “And you’ll call me when we can decorate?”

“Yes and yes,” you promise, kissing her forehead and brushing a smudge of flour from her cheek. “Go, have fun. Dad and I will handle it. You did such a great job keeping the troops in order.”

She beams at the praise and unties her apron, tossing it over a chair. “I’m going to make cards for all the boxes, okay?” Evie darts off before you can answer and then suddenly, the kitchen is quiet. Your ears are ringing slightly, but you can feel your shoulders relax.

It must show on your face, your relief at the quiet, because Andrei chuckles and opens his arms for you to step into a hug. You bury your face into his chest and inhale the mix of vanilla extract and cologne that’s seeped into his henley.

“I love them,” Andrei chuckles, voice vibrating through your chest. “But they are very loud.”

“Mhm,” you hum in agreement, lifting your face to rest your chin on his chest and look up at him. “But they’re really cute too, right, Linweenie?”

Andrei grins wider, showing off his dimples. “Very cute,” he replies, craning his neck to kiss you quickly.

You hum into the kiss, grinning when Andrei’s hands slip to your ass, squeezing. “You taste like chocolate,” you mumble against his mouth. “Sneaking all that dough is going to make you sick.”

“But who will make sure cookies are good enough for everyone?” Andrei asks cheekily, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Oh, so you’re quality control?” You tease, pulling away from his embrace so you can start loading the trays into the pre-heated ovens.

Andrei scratches at the few days’ growth of stubble on his face and hands you another tray. “Is a risk I’m willing to take,” he says, tone full of faux modesty.

“Our hero,” you joke back, stepping into his personal space again and reaching up to play with the buttons at the top of his henley. “Meanwhile, Kiry mentioned wanting to add something to her letter to Santa, but wouldn’t tell me what. She’s going to tell

Canes.”

Andrei rolls his eyes at the name of the Elf, the whole concept strange and silly to him. But he goes along with it for the kids’ sake.

“I need you to be stealth and figure out what it is,” you continue. “If it’s something small, we make it happen and keep the magic of Santa alive for a little bit longer for her.”

Your husband nods, eyes twinkling in a way that tells you he’s going to go above and beyond to make Kira’s list addition happen, no matter what it is. He’s always gone above and beyond to be the best dad and husband, making magic for your kids every day.

You love him all the more for it.

“Daddy!” Kira’s shout echos through the kitchen. “Come play mini sticks, Alina quit cause she’s losing.”

“Am not!” Alina shrieks.

You laugh and scratch your nails through his stubble. “Go, play mini sticks. I’ve got this,” you tell him.

His kisses you quickly again before jogging off to the den, calling out, “Dad versus kids!”

Their chatter starts almost immediately and you lean against the counter, Christmas music playing and the scent of gingerbread in the air, tired but so in love with your husband and kids.

#andrei svechnikov #andrei svechnikov fic #andrei svechnikov x reader #andrei svechnikov x you #nhl fic

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bcacstuff · 18 hours ago

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Sunrise somewhere near the east coast of Brazil.

I’m not sure what time it is, or really where I am. Somewhere near the coast of Brazil, I know that; sometime during my birthday - I know that, too. I've flown past the Hindu Kush Himalaya, Pamirs, Caucasus, and Atlas Mountains, and will soon cross the Andes. I'm headed to Chile to meet my family after a long time away. A blessing, to be sure, and made even more sweet coming as it is on the heels of an incredible adventure in Nepal.

I’ve spent much of the 12 hours since Istanbul sorting through photos, visual portals into experience far away yet close at hand, pixel-born reminders of a trip, a trail, impact and experience and immersion.

I’m never quite sure how to share tales of any adventure, less so one with such meaning (to me at least) as this past one. The standard travelogue seems too mundane, too pedantic, to capture it all. Some deep and philosophical tome equally missing the mark.

So, perhaps neither, maybe some of both, a hope of struck balance, or at minimum translation of time and place and experience and people. And not all at once: Like any expedition, these things must be savored, a bit at a time, building and percolating and settling and expanding yet again. So, first, the beginning…

Me on the Kongma La back in 1993, wondering about remote valleys less-trodden than Khumbu.

I guess it was about 31 years ago - December 1993 - that Stuart Sloat and I bashed our way across the lower Khumbu Glacier from Lobuche and, laden with heavy packs, made our way to the Kongma La. We had no map, just a vague point from locals and the knowledge that there was a lake up there somewhere. We found only a puddle and a frigid night, but awoke to a splendid sunrise and the Star Wars zaps of sun-warmed ice cracking, alerting us to the real lake on the east side of the pass (as opposed to our mud wallow on the west). Glorious views, backlit Lhotse and Nuptse and countless more unknowns behind, peak on peak and valley on valley leading who knows where. I knew someday, maybe, I’d get into those valleys, wander the paths away from it all.

Thirty years later, I sat in a teahouse in Chheskam, the northern triumvirate of Mahakulung, with Jhanak Karki and Harka Kulung Rai, talking about opportunity over a steaming mug of tongba. We had just trekked parts of the Mundum Trail from Phedi over Silicho to Mahakulung visiting dZi Foundation work and communities; and then we went up above, following the Hunku Khola just enough to get a taste, an idea of what may lay above. The townspeople and government were excited as we were, having had the same idea for years: create a trail up the Hunku, connecting Chheskam to Kongme Dingma and the quite-popular Mera Peak trek.

It was all possible, all doable, but like the proverbial tree falling silently in the woods, this new trail would be all for naught if no word got out about it. But, I had an idea, and it seemed possible.

Two months before, I shared coffee in a small cafe in Glasgow with Sam Heughan. We’d “met” months earlier on Zoom calls for an ill-fated film project, and then I stalked him down in Scotland; he was, as is his manner, kind enough to indulge me rather than call the cops. I mentioned this idea, going to Everest Basecamp, but doing it the back way, the hard way, the way no one would know or understand or really care about, but the way that would be far deeper, more profound, more meaningful and purposeful and fun. He was game, but I needed to see some of it, understand it more, before committing to guiding anyone up there.

Tongba steaming and heads spinning, Jhanak, Harka, and I knew now it was doable. A route possible, something that promised to bring meaningful tourism and tourist dollars to this long-forgotten part of Nepal, so close to Khumbu and yet utterly left out of the economic boon of the Everest economy. Now I just had to convince Sam.

Trekking to Basecamp is not for the faint of heart, even doing it the standard way from Lukla up the Khumbu Valley. There’s long days, cold nights, high altitudes and dry air and new foods and more. It kicks people’s butts with glee. But this route? It promised much more: camping rather than lodges; an unknown trail through unknown country (How steep would it be? How long each day? Would we find water where we needed it, flat ground?); a 19,000-foot, semi-technical pass to cross into Khumbu; and more.

As I thought and hoped, though, Sam took little convincing. An adventurous soul with a heart of gold, he was excited immediately about it all and was on board. And, to be honest, my little coffeeshop meeting was both to suss out his interest and let him meet me (and judge me) in person, but also, more importantly, to feel him out. Guiding for me is not simply an economic thing, transactional, but about time and people and experience. I’ve done too many “off-the-shelf” trips in the past to have zero tolerance for sharing the mountains with people whose goals and values are misaligned with mine. It took but minutes with Sam to know our worlds, while vastly different, were built upon similar ideas and ideals and approaches.

And so, on December 3, we met in Kathmandu, a year’s planning finally coming together.

Unfortunately for Sam, I don’t really believe in the sugar-coated version of Nepal; fancy hotels and windowed views of life are little more than television with smell. I want people to see the real Nepal, wander the back streets, immerse in the smoky incense of dawn on cobbled streets, bells chiming and dogs barking, ambling through the visceral reality that is Pashupatinath, taking in the respite of Bodhanath, embracing the comforting chaos of alleys and backways of Lalitpur.

Sam rose to it all, never flustered or bothered, always interested and engaged and inquisitive. We had but 24 hours in the Valley, but Sam saw and did and digested a lot.

And then we were off, an Altitude Air B-3 piloted expertly by Moreno whipping us up and out of Kathmandu, through the clenching smog of the city to sprawling views of the Himalaya: the Ganesh and Langtang ranges, on to Dorje Lhakpa and Gauri Shankar as we fluttered high over Kavre Palanchok. Then the jumbled jags of Rolwaling and behind, finally, the Everest range, giants piercing the morning sky, Cho Oyu, Nuptse, Lhotse, Everest. Makalu behind, hiding a bit, masked by multitudes, a distant Kangchenjunga almost a mirage eastward.

Before long, some 40 minutes, the show was over, the reality about to begin. We dropped down, our mark Chheskam, a small village clutching the flat ground hundreds of meters above the Hunku Khola, a river raging and carving down from above. Moreno, Swiss to the core, politely but abruptly ushered us out with our duffels and, counting fuel minutes, was off in a jiffy.

We were here, and town was ready.

Going into this trip, I knew Chheskam was excited. A new trail represents economic possibility for the village, the chance to not just be small pawns in the bigger Khumbu trekking economy, but rather to capture some of that themselves, to control it, to reap the benefits and build it out in a way that fits and flourishes.

I guess, though, I didn’t know how excited: We were met at the chopper by many, locals and officials, all adorning us with kathas and warm welcomes. We then walked around the village, Sam getting to see firsthand the impact of dZi Foundation’s work here, projects like one house-one tap, one house-one toilet, kitchen gardens, and more resulting in a very self-sufficient, healthy, clean, place with relative prosperity. Thanks to Jhanak’s connections, we met the oldest man in town as he demonstrated traditional weaving of nettle fabric, sipped raksi in our friend Prashanta’s house, and briefly sat with wedding guests tipsy from revelry. And then we were summoned to the local school for a bigger gathering.

Our team ready to leave Chheskam for the Hunku Khola valley and the new Muddhi-Kongme Dingma trail.

It was huge, much of the town was gathered, hundred of school children, the local government officials, and more, all in the school grounds. We were run through the welcome gauntlet of ceremonial recognition, our necks strung with dozens of kathas and marigold garlands before being treated to local cultural dances and speeches of excitement and gratitude and welcome. Gratitude and ceremony are big in Nepal, and it was strong enough in Chheskam to feel a bit awkward: after all, Sam and I and our team were here just to walk up the valley. We had no guarantees of success - for us or for the future trail. But, the point I think was far bigger than either of us, any of us; the celebration on that day was one of excitement for the future, of possibility, of potential signified by the two of us being willing, caring enough, to come and do this and see where it leads, literally and figuratively.

Thirty-one years before I stared off into these valleys, selfishly hoping that one day I’d wander them, filling my personal cup with some adventure. It took a long time, and was beyond gratifying to finally be here, but doing so with great people, a great team, and a goal beyond anything personal.

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whocaresstillthelouvre · 2 days ago

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The Gingerbread Matchmaker

Rating: Teen? If even, but I still appreciate MDNI. Pairing: No Outbreak Joel Miller x Female Reader Words Count: 4,500 Summary: You're the owner of the struggling bakery Sweet Nothing, and you're quickly running out of money—and patience. Your town's annual gingerbread house competition is your last ditch effort to save everything you've worked so hard on. Too bad you quickly discover that you're a baker—and not a contractor. Enter, Sarah Miller, offering her dad's building skills. Warnings: fluff, Hallmark Christmas movie vibes, Sarah Miller the matchmaker, I believe in a world where Joel Miller is happy, Christmas vibes, a lot of baking, not beta read

A/N: Happy holidays everybody! This idea planted in my head a few nights ago and I just had to get this out to y'all. Thank you to @saradika for the gingerbread dividers!

Masterlist

You're a whirlwind of aprons and flour-dusted hands as you flit around Sweet Nothing Bakery, your labor of love. The display before you blooms into a colorful bouquet of cupcakes, each one baked then frosted with meticulous care.

Only you, the hopeless dreamer who has always believed that one good chocolate chip cookie can instantly improve a bad day, would decide to pack up your whole life, purchase a long-closed-down bakery sight unseen, and move to a cozy suburb outside of Austin that you’ve never even visited before.

And here you are now, your eyes flickering toward the door every few minutes. You've poured everything into this place – your savings and your dreams. The bell above the door remains silent, though.

"Maybe it's just another off day," you mumble to yourself. Your wrist twists, bringing the face of your watch into view for the third time in ten minutes.

As if on cue, the door creaks open, and your heart leaps. But it's only Mr. Bowe from the music shop next door, his gaze sweeping over the cupcakes before he offers a sympathetic smile. "Just looking at all of the pretty pastries, my dear," he says.

You nod with a practiced grin that doesn't quite reach your eyes.

"Let me know if anything tempts you," you reply, already turning back to rearrange a tray of lemon cupcakes.

"Will do," Mr. Bowe assures you, though you both know he won't. He never does. With a smile and a nod, he's gone, leaving you alone again.

Damnit. This bakery was supposed to be a beginning, not an end. You can't let it crumble in your hands.

The sun begins to set as you tally the day's earnings—or lack thereof. Your palms press against your eyes when you realize the sum total barely covers the cost of ingredients. Your shoulders slump as you count and recount, you lose every time.

With a deep sigh, you flick off the lights one by one and climb the narrow staircase to your apartment.

You’ll try again tomorrow.

The morning sun pours through the bakery's front windows. You're lining up croissants in the display case when Mr. Bowe’s kind voice catches your attention.

"Have you heard about the Gingerbread House Contest?"

Your ears perk up, and you lean closer. "No, I haven't. Tell me more."

"Well, every year, Cedar Park holds the contest right in the town square. It's quite the spectacle," he explains. “It draws quite the crowd."

"Sounds fun," you muse.

"Indeed. Last year, the winner's gingerbread house was featured in the newspaper. Gave their little shop a real boost."

You straighten up.

"Maybe I should give it a shot," you say, more to yourself than Mr. Bowe.

“I’d love to see what you come up with.”

You don your apron, your sleeves rolled up to your elbows. The familiar sound of the mixer whirring calms your nervous heart. The bakery smells of ginger, cinnamon, and allspice. For the first time in weeks, you actually feel a glimmer of hope that maybe—just maybe—you’re going to be okay.

Rolling out the first batch of gingerbread, you press shapes into the dough—walls, roofs, and tiny doors.

You've got this. Or so you tell yourself, leaning against the counter with a mug of tea while you watch the oven bake your hopes and dreams.

Your hands are steady as you lay out your tools—offset spatula, rolling pin, and piping bags. You prepare yourself to transform from a baker into an architect.

Or—so you thought—your gingerbread homes begin to resemble earthquake victims, walls crumble and roofs slide. All you can do is laugh in disbelief. You mastered croissants at the age of twelve, you knew how to make macarons before you knew how to drive. How in the hell are you failing at gingerbread houses of all things?

Determined, you eye the next batch in the oven. This time, you’ll double the icing, maybe whisper sweet nothings to the dough, and cross your fingers for good luck.

You barely notice the jingle of the front door bell over the crash of another wall meeting its demise.

"Wow, looks like a gingerbread massacre in here," a sweet voice cuts through your frustration. You glance up from your baked goods ruins and spy Sarah Miller smiling at you, curiosity lighting up her face as she surveys the scene. You straighten up, self-conscious under the gaze of your guest.

"Ah, well, it's not usually this… chaotic," you offer with a sheepish grin, trying to brush off the mess littering your workspace and apron.

Your eyes meet Joel, Sarah’s handsome dad standing just behind her. Your breath catches in your throat, a common occurrence whenever you see him in your shop, standing tall and broad-shouldered, rugged with bronzed skin. His strong jawline is dusted with stubble, his full lips sit under a well-trimmed mustache, and his eyes—a warm dark brown—crinkle at the corners as he takes in the chaos of your kitchen with a slight grin.

He runs a hand through his short, dark hair. You try not to stare at his arms, muscular and tanned. You’re left speechless again by him, your eyes roaming from his work-worn hands to the easy smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He exudes strength and capability—you feel ridiculous in your current predicament—covered in flour and crumbled gingerbread buildings.

"Looks like you could use a hand," he says, his voice is a low rumble that sends a shiver through your body.

"Or maybe a bulldozer," Sarah adds.

"Maybe so," you respond, feeling the tension ease out of your body at their lighthearted banter. “What brings you in today?"

Sarah bounces on her toes, her curls bobbing. "We’re early for my piano lesson next door and I wanted to ask you about helping with my bake sale—" She glances around at your gingerbread graveyard. "Maybe we came to the wrong place?"

You laugh, running your hand across your forehead and wincing when you realize you've just dusted it with flour. "Oh no, I promise I'm usually much more competent. It's just this gingerbread house contest has me all flustered."

Joel's eyebrows raise. "The gingerbread contest? The one being held this weekend? That's a big deal around here."

"Yep. So I've heard," you sigh. "I thought it would be a great way to get some publicity for the bakery, but…" You point helplessly at the crumbled remains of your attempts.

Sarah's eyes light up. "Dad! You could help!" She turns to you, grinning. "My dad's a contractor. He builds real houses. I bet he could help you make an awesome gingerbread house!”

You blink, surprised by Sarah's suggestion. Joel rubs the back of his neck, looking a bit sheepish. "I don't know about that, baby girl. Building gingerbread houses isn't exactly building a home."

But Sarah doesn’t back down. She turns to you, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Dad's being modest. He's amazing at building things! You should see him build LEGO!”

You look around at your kitchen, littered with the remains of your failed attempts.

“I—guess I could use the help,” you shrug, glancing over at Joel.

He hesitates, his eyes darting between you and Sarah, the internal debate playing out on his face. “I suppose I could take a look,” he sighs, a hint of a smile appearing.

“Yes!” Sarah cheers, clapping her hands together.

Relief and excitement rush through you. “Thank you,” you earnestly say. “I promise I’ll repay. Free cupcakes for life?”

He laughs a deep, warm sound. “Let’s see if I can actually help…”

Joel moves closer to inspect your gingerbread casualties, you catch the smell of his cologne—woodsy, like pine and campfires. You try to focus as he examines the graveyard of broken cookie pieces, his brow furrowing in concentration. God, he’s handsome.

"You need to think about load-bearing walls, proper supports—”

“It’s cookie dough, not concrete,” you retort with a smile.

“What if we change the shape?” Joel suggests. “Maybe something less—grand than a gigantic gingerbread mansion.”

You nod, your mind racing with possibilities of gingerbread construction.

“Ooh! I have an idea!” Sarah pipes up with excitement. “What if we made the clock tower in the town square?”

“It’s smaller, we’d need less actual structure pieces, maybe we could rely more on your decorating than building skills then?” Joel says thoughtfully.

“That’s actually… not a bad idea,” you admit, your eyes lighting up as you consider the possibilities. "I could use royal icing to make the details on the clock face," you muse.

Joel nods. "And I can help with trying to make sure it stays upright."

"Team Gingerbread!" Sarah cheers, pumping her fist in the air.

You laugh, feeling warmth spread through your chest for the first time in a quite awhile.

“So, when do we start?” Sarah asks excitedly. “Now?”

“No, baby girl,” Joel says with a chuckle. “We can’t start right now. You have your piano lesson.”

"But Dad," she whines, "this is way more important than piano!"

"How about we start tomorrow?" you suggest, glancing at Joel. "After the bakery closes? That way, I can prepare some fresh gingerbread and we can really get started."

"Sounds like a plan. What time do you close up shop?"

"Seven," you reply, trying to ignore the flutter in your chest at the thought of spending more time with him.

"Perfect," Joel says. "We'll be here."

Sarah bounces on her toes, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Can we bring anything to help?”

“Patience,” you wink.

Joel chuckles, a sound you could get used to hearing.

“Please, pick something out to take with you,” you say gesturing to the display case.

While Joel and Sarah peruse your variety of baked goods, you take the opportunity to steal glances at him. His strong profile, the gentle way he interacts with his daughter, his broad shoulders. You shake your head, trying to escape your reverie over the handsome contractor as you bag up the treats they’ve chosen.

“A chocolate chip cookie for the little lady, and a cinnamon roll for dad,” you say, handing the bag to Sarah.

"See you tomorrow! We're gonna make the best gingerbread tower ever!" Sarah says, as they turn for the door.

“I sure hope so,” you giggle at her enthusiasm.

Joel lingers for a moment at the door, his eyes meeting yours. “See you tomorrow,” his deep voice rumbles through you as he leaves.

The next day, you're up before dawn, determined to perfect your gingerbread recipe. That, and you couldn’t stop thinking about seeing Joel again.

By mid-afternoon, you've settled on the perfect blend - a dough that's sturdy enough for construction.

As closing time nears, your stomach flutters with nerves over seeing Joel again. You're just finishing up filling the piping bags with royal icing when the bell above the door chimes.

"We're here!" Sarah's voice rings out, her curls bouncing as she practically skips into the bakery. Joel follows behind, with a soft smile as he takes in the scene.

"Wow, it smells amazing in here," he says.

You lead them to the workspace. "I've got everything laid out. Shall we get started?"

Sarah claps her hands excitedly. "Let's do this!"

Joel listens intently as you explain the pieces you’ve baked for the clock tower.

"Okay, I think I see how we can make this work," Joel says, reaching for a piece of gingerbread. "We'll start with a solid base, then build up the walls using these larger pieces as supports."

You find yourself mesmerized by Joel’s hands as he begins; strong, capable, yet incredibly gentle as he handles the gingerbread.

You blink out of your focus, remembering you have a job to do—and Joel’s daughter is right next to him.

"I'll start on the decorations," you say, reaching for a piping bag filled with white royal icing.

"What can I do?" Sarah asks looking around at all of the accoutrements needed to build the tower.

You smile at her enthusiasm. "How about you sort these candies by color? We'll need them for the details later."

And just like that, the bakery feels a little less quiet, a little less empty.

As the clock ticks later, the outline of the clock tower begins to take shape.

You catch yourself staring at Joel's strong hands as he carefully places the final support beam for the clock tower. Your eyes trail up his arms, past his broad shoulders to his handsome face—where you’re startled to find him looking right back at you, his brown eyes wide as he stares into yours.

"Earth to bakers!" Sarah's voice cuts through the moment. "Are we done for tonight?"

You shake your head, clearing your thoughts. "Yes, I think that's enough for today. Tomorrow, we finish decorating," you reply, wiping your hands on your apron.

“It looks like it’s going to hold,” Joel nods, stepping back to admire your mutual handiwork before gathering his and Sarah’s things.

“Let’s hope!” Sarah says, carefully leaning in to assess a wall.

"Same time tomorrow?" Joel asks, his hand on the door.

"Wouldn't miss it," you reply, a bit too eagerly.

With one more day to go, you lean over the bakery counter, watching as Joel meticulously positions a candy cane-striped piece atop the gingerbread clock tower, using extra tenderness as he handles the delicate candy.

“Geez Dad, I haven’t seen you handle something so gently since you built that little green alien from that show you like,” Sarah quips, perched on a stool, legs swinging, her curly hair bouncing with energy. “It’s candy, not a thousand piece LEGO set.”

You stifle a laugh as you watch Joel's serious face crack into a reluctant smile.

"If only your smart mouth could decorate," he retorts, his voice low and warm.

Sarah's eyes light up mischievously, a grin spreading across her face. "Oh! I just remembered," she exclaims, hopping down from her stool. "I promised Mr. Bowe I'd help him set up his Christmas window display today. I can't believe I almost forgot!"

You and Joel exchange skeptical glances. "Since when do you help Mr. Bowe with his window?" Joel asks, raising a suspicious eyebrow.

"Since… now?" Sarah replies, already backing towards the door. "It's important to help others, right Dad? You always say that. I'm sure you two can handle the rest of the decorating without me. I think you two make a great team! If you need me, I'll be next door!"

Before either of you can protest, Sarah darts out the door, the bell jingling in her wake.

All of a sudden, the bakery feels much smaller, much more intimate, the air sits thicker between you and Joel.

You clear your throat, reaching for a piping bag filled with white icing. "Well, I guess we should keep going," you say, your voice sounding unnaturally high.

Joel nods, his fingers skimming yours as he takes the piping bag from your hand. A jolt of electricity passes between you at the contact, and you quickly pull away, knocking over a container of sprinkles in your haste.

"Oh, shoot," you mutter, dropping to your knees to clean up the mess. Joel kneels beside you, helping to gather the scattered sprinkles.

You both reach for the same pile, your fingers brushing against each other. This time though, neither of you pulls away.

You look up, meeting Joel's, brown eyes, his intense stare searching your eyes as if he’s trying to read your thoughts.

Time stands still, the smell of cinnamon, ginger, and your bakery dissipates, now all you smell is Joel’s woodsy cologne. Finally, after watching him from afar for months, separated by the bakery display case, always getting to see the small glimpses of him with his daughter and the sensitive heart he keeps buttoned up beneath his flannel shirt, he’s so close. He takes a deep breath, leaning in, closing the distance between you. Joel’s lips meet yours, gentle and tentative at first, until he cups your cheek, and you melt into him, quietly moaning at the first taste of the cinnamon and coffee on his tongue.

Your hands find their way to his broad shoulders, sinking into his warmth, steadying yourself as he wraps his strong arms around your waist and pulls you closer.

When you finally break apart, you’re both breathless. Joel rests his forehead against yours. “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” he whispers.

“Me too,” you admit, feeling heat creep into your cheeks.

“I think my daughter may have had an ulterior motive in leaving us alone,” he chuckles.

You laugh softly. "She's a smart kid."

"Too smart for her own good sometimes," Joel agrees.

"We should probably get back to decorating," you say reluctantly.

Joel nods, standing and offering you his hand and pulling you up.

You stand shoulder to shoulder with Joel at the counter, Joel’s presence now a comforting warmth beside you, as you both reach for a frosted windowpane.

"Here, let me," he says, taking the delicate piece from you. He gently handles the sugar glass with a gentleness you’re now well aware of, and glues it to the clocktower.

“It looks great,” you say, closing the distance between Joel.

Joel’s eyes lock with yours, leaning in, his breath ghosting over your lips. Your chin tilts up, wanting to taste the sweetness of his lips again…

Suddenly, the bell above the door chimes loudly, shattering the moment. The two of you spring apart, both breathing heavily.

"I'm back!" Sarah's cheerful voice rings out. "Mr. Bowe says hi and—" She stops short, her eyes darting between you and her father, a knowing smirk spreading across her face.

Flustered, you take a step back, your elbow accidentally knocking against the edge of the table. The gingerbread clock tower wobbles precariously, and time seems to slow as you watch in horror.

But Joel is already in motion, lunging forward and reaching out to steady the creation. A collective sigh of relief fills the room as the gingerbread clock tower stands unscathed.

"Nice catch," you breathe out.

He offers a humble shrug, but the slight twinkle in his eye tells you he's pleased.

"Oh my god Dad! That was awesome!" Sarah chimes, rushing over to inspect the nearly-catastrophe. “Is it done? It looks amazing!”

“I think it is, except for one more piece,” you say, pulling out two surprise gingerbread cookies.

The first cookie is unmistakably Sarah. Her curly hair is captured by swirls of chocolate icing. Her bright brown eyes are recreated with the help of tiny candy pearl dots. Her wide smile is a perfect arc of white royal icing. You made sure to include her favorite part of green Chuck Taylors and stack of beaded bracelets.

Joel’s cookie is a little simpler, his stubble is recreated with finely crushed Oreos, his short, dark hair made with chocolate icing. He’s even complete with a tiny flannel shirt constructed with red and brown icing.

Two sets of brown eyes widen as they take in the miniature versions of themselves.

“These are incredible,” Joel says softly. “Really.”

“Well, you two are my most frequent customers, and I couldn’t have done all of this without your help,” you admit, smiling at Sarah.

Sarah beams, carefully picking up her cookie-self. "Can we put them on the tower? Like we're looking out the window or something?"

"That's a great idea," you nod, reaching for icing to secure the cookies in place.

As the three of you work together to position the two cookies just right, you feel contentment wash over you.

Just a few days ago, the bakery felt so empty and daunting. But now, as you watch Joel help Sarah put on her jacket before they both take one last look at the completed gingerbread tower, you feel hopeful for the future of the bakery—and the gingerbread competition tomorrow.

You’re tired—you barely slept last night, you yawn as you carefully load the gingerbread tower into your car, praying it survives the short drive to the town square.

The morning air is crisp as you step out of your car, waving at Joel and Sarah as they make their way towards you. Joel has a shy smile, his deep brown eyes lit with something akin to fondness as he approaches you.

“Ready?” he asks with a nod.

“As ready as I can be,” you sigh.

You and Joel carry your collective pride and joy across the town square with the help of Sarah leading the way to the competition area.

"This is it!" she exclaims, waggling her fingers in front of the table like a magician. You swallow nervously when you see the talent of your competitors.

"Wow, look at that castle," Sarah gasps. Joel doesn’t even look over, his focus remaining fixed on your shared creation, his brow furrowed in concentration.

"Ours is better," he states matter-of-factly.

“You’re right,” you agree with a smile.

As the judges make their rounds, you try to calm your nerves as your foot nervously taps against the pavement and you try to catch your breath. Joel seems to sense your anxiety, taking your hand in his and giving it a gentle squeeze. The warmth of his touch steadying you, silencing your self-doubt.

"Hey," he says quietly, giving your hand another reassuring squeeze. "Whatever happens, we did good."

"Thank you," you breathe out.

And then they're before you—the judges—with their scrutinizing eyes and nods of approval. You and Joel still hold hands, both of you not making an attempt to pull away. One of them leans in close, inspecting the intricate icing lattice-work that had taken you hours of painstaking focus.

"Exceptional detail," one judge comments, pointing to the two gingerbread figures of Joel and Sarah at the base of the tower.

"And the structural integrity is impressive," another judge remarks. Now, you squeeze Joel’s hand.

"Thank you," Joel says.

The judges move on. The three of you look at each other, with unspoken hopes of victory. Joel still doesn’t drop your hand.

"And now," the announcer's voice catches the crowd’s attention, "for the winners of this year's Cedar Park Gingerbread House Contest!"

A rush of adrenaline flows through your body as your heart beats against your chest. Sarah grabs your other hand, forming a chain of nervous anticipation.

"Third place goes to The Gingerbread Castle by the Carpenter family!"

You breathe out the breath you’ve been holding. Sarah bounces next to you, Joel stands still and calm next to you.

"Second place is awarded to…" the announcer pauses. "The Gingerbread Ski Lodge by the Padillas!"

Your heart pounds so hard you feel like you’re going to pass out. You try to focus on the soothing feel of Joel’s thumb stroking the back of your hand.

"And now for the grand prize winner of this year's Cedar Park Gingerbread House Contest is… The Gingerbread Clock Tower by Sweet Nothing Bakery!"

Time seems to slow down. The judge's lips move, but you can’t hear them over your heart beating. You only realize what’s happening when Sarah lets out an ear-piercing squeal and Joel's arm wraps around your waist.

Sarah jumps up and down and Joel pulls you close, planting a kiss on your cheek.

You feel like you’re floating as you walk to the stage and accept the grand prize ribbon. The crowd stares at you, cameras taking your victory photos, but all you can do is stare at Joel, a wide smile of support making his eyes disappear behind the crinkles at the sides.

As you step off the stage, you spot Mr. Bowe, who rushes over to you, his eyes twinkling with pride. “I knew you had it in you, my dear,” he says, patting your arm. “This will do wonders for you and your bakery.”

The realization hits you like a wave - you've won. Your bakery is going to be okay. More than okay, even. Tears of relief and joy prick at your eyes.

Joel notices the tears in your eyes as you rejoin him and Sarah at the table. He pulls you in for a hug. “Hey,” he says softly. "You did it. I knew you could."

You bury your face in his chest. "No, we did it," you respond, your voice muffled against the soft flannel of his shirt. "I couldn't have done this without you and Sarah."

When you pull back, you see Sarah beaming at you both, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Does this mean we get free cupcakes for life now?" she asks cheekily.

You laugh, wiping away a stray tear. "Absolutely.”

You weave through the throng of customers, carrying a tray laden with pastries. Gone are the quiet days of just you and your empty bakery. Sweet Nothing Bakery is now the bustling heart of Cedar Park’s downtown business district. Now, instead of quiet contemplation about your’s and your bakery’s future, your business is home to a line stretching out the door and a phone ringing off the hook.

You turn the OPEN sign to CLOSED, now exhausted from being busy all day, no longer overwhelmed from the worries of a failing business.

The jingle of the bell above the door interrupts your focus on counting the profits of the day, you look up and spot a familiar face.

“Long time no see,” you smile.

“It’s been a busy week for me with the holidays coming up,” he says, looking around at the empty display cases. ”Seems like your week was busier.”

He approaches the counter, it’s only been a week since you last saw him, seeing his dark brown eyes again makes you realize how much you’ve really missed him.

"I've been baking non-stop since we won the contest. I can barely keep up with demand."

Joel's lips quirk up in a half-smile. "I noticed the line when I drove by earlier.”

“I can’t thank you enough for all of your help, I couldn’t have done it without you… or Sarah.”

He smiles before cleaning his throat.

"So," he says, a hint of nervousness sounds in his voice. "I was thinking… maybe we could celebrate our victory properly? Maybe you’d like to grab dinner sometime?”

Your heart skips a beat and you can’t stop the wide grin that spreads across your face.

“I’d love that,” you reply. "But what about Sarah?"

Joel chuckles, running a hand through his hair. "Already taken care of. My brother was quite excited to learn that I finally got the nerve up to ask the cute girl from the bakery out. I think Sarah has been filling him in about everything. I think she might have been plotting this.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “She’s tenacious.”

“Tell me about it,” he nods with a grin. “So, that’s a yes?”

“Absolutely,” you respond, hope filling your heart.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller x you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller tlou #tlou joel #the last of us hbo #joel the last of us #joel and sarah #joel miller christmas #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel tlou

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purplephantomwolf · 1 day ago

Text

Savoring the Finish Line

Chapter Six

Synopsis: You are a bakery owner. One day Max Verstappen comes into your bakery.

Note: This is not an accurate portrayal of how the real people in this act. I do not know them personally, so I will not be portraying them accurately.

Warnings: Panic attack mention

Previous Chapter: Chapter Five

Masterlist

March 20, 2022

“Y/n, what are you still doing here?” Christian appears in front of you.

“Waiting for Max. He wanted to drive me home after the race,” you yawn, stretching.

“We just finished our debrief meeting, so he should be up soon,” Christian claps you on the shoulder.

“Thank you, Christian. Have a good night,” you nod, as he leaves the hospitality.

You only have to wait a couple of minutes before Max appears. “Bonjour, Max,” you say, as he approaches you.

“Hi, Y/n,” he says, dejected. You frown at his response.

“What’s wrong?” You stand up, grabbing your bag. You start walking to his car.

“I’m sorry about the race; I wanted to give you a good one to watch,” he sighs.

“Max,” you start, giving him a stern look. “You did give me a good race. You did amazing today,” you tell him.

“But I got a dnf,” he protests. You grab his arm to stop and turn him towards you.

“Max, you were in podium position until your car had issues. It is not your fault you got a dnf,” you firmly say. He gives you a sad look, and you shake your head. “I still had so much fun this weekend. I don’t care that you had a dnf. I am still thankful you invited me,” you tell him as you arrive at his car. He looks surprised when you say you don’t care that he has a dnf.

“Thank you, Y/n,” he says, opening the door for you.

You slide in, replying with a “I didn’t do anything to be thanked for.” Max climbs into his side of the car and you drive in silence for a couple minutes.

“I’m thinking of hiring another baker so that I can take time off and not have to close the bakery. This is my first time taking time off since I opened it,” you think aloud, trying to fill the silence.

Max glances at me, “Oh? I think that would be an excellent idea. You must be exhausted from working every day.”

You sigh, nodding. You rest my head against the window of his car, the vibration of the car lulling you to sleep.

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

“Y/n,” you hear your name and feel your body gently shake.

“Huh?” You hum, slowly waking up. You rub your eyes, looking around.

“We’re at your hotel,” Max smiles at you.

“Oh, thank you,” you yawn. You grab my bag and turn to Max. “Thank you for everything this weekend. I won’t ever forget a moment of it,” you thank him.

“Of course, thank you for helping me through my panic attack. I don’t know how I would’ve calmed down otherwise,” Max smiles gently.

“Of course, I’ll help you anytime you need it. Have a good night, Max,” you say, going to climb out of his car.

“You leave tomorrow, right?” He rushes his question out. You turn to him, nodding. “Okay, then I guess the next time I see you will be back in Monaco. Good night, Y/n,” he smiles.

“Good night, Max,” you climb out of his car, waving to him. You head into the hotel and up to your room.

You fall onto your bed, letting out a happy sigh. You pull out your phone to call Louis and Estelle. The phone rings a couple of times before someone picks up.

“Bonjour, Y/n!” Louis greets you.

“Bonjour, Louis!” you reply.

“Tell me about the race! How was Max afterwards?” Louis inquires.

“Oh, the race was amazing. Watching the cars fly past was so cool. We’re definitely going to have to go to Monaco this year. Max was hard on himself, he wanted to give me a good race to watch, and getting a dnf is not what he wanted,” You sigh, recalling how Max was acting, “I told him that he did give me a good race to watch and it’s not his fault he got a dnf.”

“Good, hopefully he won’t be too hard on himself now,” Louis hums.

“I hope not, but he probably will be,” you say. Louis makes a sound of agreement. You let out a yawn. “I should go to bed. It’s late here, and I have a flight to catch tomorrow,” you tell Louis.

“Bon nuit, Y/n. We’ll see you tomorrow,” Louis responds. You wish him a good night and hang up the phone. You go through your nightly routine and climb into bed, quickly falling asleep.

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

March 21, 2022

You deboard the plane, heading for baggage claim. Gathering your things from the carousel, you look for Louis and Estelle. You spot them quickly and head towards them.

“Welcome home, cherie. How was the flight?” Louis asks, taking your baggage from you.

“How were Lacey and Elise?” You ask, heading for the parking lot.

“They were angels. They’re super excited to see you,” Estelle informs you. You let out a little laugh, nodding.

“I’m sure, this is the longest I’ve been away from them. Probably missing their mama a whole bunch,” you say. You approach Louis’ car and climb in. “Thank you for picking me up.”

“Of course, dear,” Estelle says. You guys head for your apartment and bakery.

Pulling into your bakery parking lot, you can spot your dogs staring out from the upstairs window. You laugh and climb out. “Thank you again for the ride. I’ll see you guys tomorrow morning,” you say, giving both of them kisses on the cheek.

“Of course, amour. We’ll see you tomorrow,” Louis says. You wave goodbye as they pull away from the bakery.

Once they’re out of sight, you head into the bakery. Scaling the stairs, you can hear your puppies scratching at the door. “I’m here, I’m here,” you coo, opening the door. “Hello, my loves. Did you miss your mama?” You talk to them like they can actually answer you. After greeting them and petting them for five minutes, you head to your bedroom to put up your luggage.

As you’re putting the last of your things away, your phone rings. Max’s name flashes across the screen, bringing a grin to your face. “Hello, Max,” you answer the phone.

“Hello, Y/n. Did you make it home without any trouble?” Max asks you.

“I did. I’m home and I just finished putting everything away. Did you make it to Saudi Arabia alright?” You ask him, falling into bed.

You hear shuffling on the other end of the phone and a door close. “I did, I just got back to my hotel after dinner with the team,” Max responds.

“Oh, sounds fun. Are you expecting a good weekend from the car?” You inquire.

“It’s looking better than last weekend. We replaced some parts and it’s looking better,” Max answers you.

“Oh good, I’m glad. I’m excited to see you win. I’ll be cheering from home,” you tell him.

“I’ll win this race for you,” Max informs you. You let out a little giggle.

“Okay, sounds good,” you blush and kick your feet excitedly. You suddenly get hit with a wave of tiredness. “I think I’m going to sleep, Max. I’ll text you when I wake up tomorrow, if you’d like?” You shyly ask him.

“I’d love that,” he answers.

“Okay, I’ll do that then.” You wish him a good night and hang up. You crawl under the covers and your pups join you in bed. The flight wore you out, so you’re asleep in seconds.

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

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Story Tag list:

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#f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 imagines #f1 story #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x you #max verstappen fanfic #f1 x reader #max verstappen x y/n

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l0v3r666 · 11 hours ago

Text

Mc inserts x TWST characters

(basically non-yuu pairings I think about instead of my inbox :p)

Ignyhide vice!Mc x Jamil Viper

Mc is probably twisted from one of the little demon goons, and it makes your contrast with Jamil charmingly obvious. You’re both vices in the basketball club with an outside connection to your wardens (you figured a physical activity’ll ward Idia’s eye away) and you both hate your jobs to a comedic degree. The connection is actually really sweet and subtle!! Atleast until book 6 when Mc is complaining about their ego trippy boss while basically eating out of Jamil’s hand, feeding him information like the layout and hierarchy of styx,, as Idia’s super exclusive assistant it’s only fair to give your guests a full tour!

“geez! And he just gets so flippy-floppy, yknow? He’s got this thing about energy drinks now so I’ve been diluting them, it’s such a pain!”

“It might just be a defect with housewardens. Have you ever heard of the incompetency theory?”

Card soldier!Mc x Malleus Draconia

okay picture this- Mc is comepletely wasted and coming off the high from a holiday party that was totally killer. You wander into the woods past campus and find yourself at a little abandoned cottage, it’s like 100% cozy enough to chill in before stumbling back to the dorms. You continue heading there for pregames/drunken shenanigans, meeting up with some hot guy that hangs around sometimes. You’re fully blindsided when your “little buddy” is kicking heartslabyul ass during a spelldrive tourney..

“Yoooooo, Mally, you must be really fun at parties. Want ta’ go with me?”

“I can’t say I’ve ever been invited to a “rager” before, but it sounds.. enjoyable. I accept.”

Ignyhide freshman!Mc x Deuce Spade

You’re a shaking mess during your first track meet. It’s a graduation requirement to take at least one gym class before the end of freshman year, and you’d rather die than take flight class with all those scary seniors!! Your vice had enough sense to convince you into not dropping out, he’d said that “track is low stress!” And “you’ll enjoy it” >:( you can’t believe he’d lie to your face like that!! (Is this the AI revolution??) You guess it’s not too bad though, you’ve even started strength training with a new friend. He’s a little short tempered, but it could be a lot worse.

“hey, I had no idea ignyhide kids were into track! I thought it’d be too much sun,,”

“We’re not vampires. I wouldn’t clown on you for the tea in your thermos, so lay off.. heh, there’s totally a dormouse in there.”

Scarabia housewarden!Mc x Leona Kingscholar

It’s pretty rare to see Leona of all people in your reserved pool chair, but plenty of weird stuff’s happened during your senior case study. You’re this close to getting your big shiny diploma- and a little rest now and then won’t hurt anybody! Savanaclaw’s housewarden has only had his position since last year, and you’ve held yours through all four. After knowing of each other for so long, it’s only logical that you’d become good friends! (Not that he calls you that)

“So you’re graduating, huh? Hope that brat you chose’ll fill your shoes, you’ve worked pretty hard.”

“awh, you’re such a sap,, I’m sure you’ll like Kalim, he’s no idiot. I promise to visit whenever you decide to graduate, but it’ll be a lot easier if i get that job in the castle!”

Octavinelle sophmore!Mc x Jack Howl

Poor Jack has to deal with everyone else’s business on top of his own education, when does he get a break? That ramshackle prefect’s looking for leads on how to beat those twins in the water, and only one face comes to mind. You’re his coworker at his temp job, and you owe him a favour (atleast from your perspective, he doesn’t hold it over your head) because with your grades Azul’s got it out for you. He’s begging for you to help him out- and who are you to deny those puppy eyes?

“Jack you can’t tell him! The housewarden’ll make me quit, I need this job! :(((“

“woah, it’s not like I’m gonna blackmail you.. what kind of guy do you think I am?”

Savanaclaw freshman!Mc x Epel Felmier

You’re lost, stressed and so confused in your first year :( it feels like everything is going wrong all the time!! It’s probably like 10x worse because you’re very tall and so built, but nobody cares to peer up at the cute giraffe ears on your head! You’ve been challenged by so. many. seniors. (and you win against all of them, you’re no pushover) but you’re tired of the beef. Epel just thinks you’re the coolest person in the room, and is always saying he wants to get freaky fridayed with you. But he doesn’t get the struggle!! Atleast Jack cares enough to tell him you’re just not liking it at school, and it makes Epel kick into action- he’s not letting you drop out, so please wait until he transfers!!

Pomefiore Junior!Mc x Rook Hunt

You’re convinced that Rook c. Hunt is the worst guy in all of twisted wonderland (C for creep)! And it SUCKS because he went from your rebellious savanaclaw boytoy to.. whatever he is. (How’d you miss the warning signs when you were tongueing him??) You can always see his stupid bob in your peripheral- but you’ve rationalized that if you watch him, then he only sees what you want him to see! It’s keeping your friends close and your enemies closer, just until graduation. And it does work, until you realize you’ve given Rook an inch that he’s turned into a mile. You’ll probably never get rid of him now, but what’s the point anymore?

“Ah, mon cher! You always enchant me with your passionate gaze, I’m honoured to be the object of your attention!”

“uh.. sure thing, hon. Whatever you say.”

Diasomnia Senior!Mc x Idia Shroud

You’re a highly educated noble from the mysterious land of Briar Valley. You are poised, weirdly formal, and utterly incompetent with your newest area of study- contemporary technology. You’ve tried to convince yourself that it’s pointless, they don’t even use it at home! But if you want to travel anytime before the collapse of human civilization, it must be done. you’re insatiable with your thirst for knowledge, and completely enamoured with having first hand experience with every era of mortal tech. It also happens to be almost impossible to revive your “Kno-Keya” once it has decided to die. That is where Idia Shroud comes in.

��In exchange for the revival of my electronic mailing device i am willing to offer an extensive dowry befitting of your station and technological necromancy skill. Will it suffice?”

“I literally only charged your phone, uh.. WOAH, A DOWRY?? I don’t have the space for five horses!! I’m totally not prepped for the marriage route, I haven’t the wiki yet!”

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aventurineswife · 1 day ago

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So uh. I love your attempt on dadchurin so I will show this. I sort of did this with my personal ocxcanon with Aven's OC yumechild (she has siblings, one of which isn't an Avgin) but maybe you can whip up something similar with this prompt of his child saying they're proud of him and is glad they have matching eyes with him

“The coolest eyes of the bestest Dad in the universe!”

Summary: Aventurine shares a heartfelt interaction with his child, who proudly declares their love for their shared eyes and unwavering support for their "coolest dad in the universe." Beneath Aventurine's usual flamboyance, he grapples with the unexpected warmth and hope his child brings to his guarded heart.

Tags: Aventurine and his child, Fluff, Parent-Child Bonding, Emotional Vulnerability, Protective Child, Hidden Soft Side.

Warnings: Mentions of Aventurine’s guarded nature and emotional struggles (light emotional themes).

A/N: ☹️the drawing is so cute!🥺💕, I hope you enjoy this!

The soft glow of the setting sun filtered through the elegant curtains, casting golden light across the room. Aventurine stood at the polished bar, his fingers tracing the edge of a fine glass, an enigmatic smile playing at the corners of his lips. The room was filled with the subtle elegance he was so accustomed to—luxurious, but devoid of anything truly personal. Yet, something about the quiet hum of the evening made him feel a flicker of something deeper than usual.

"Papa, look!" A voice called out, filled with infectious enthusiasm. Aventurine's attention snapped to the source of the interruption.

There, standing with hands on hips and an expression of utmost determination, was his child—a bundle of energy with the same captivating magenta and cyan eyes that Aventurine himself wore like a mask. The child was grinning, eyes gleaming as if they held the secret to the universe.

“What is it, sweetheart?” Aventurine’s voice carried his usual smooth, playful tone, though there was a hint of curiosity.

“I love having these eyes!” The child exclaimed, bouncing on their feet. “After all, it’s the same coolest eyes as the bestest dad in the universe!”

Aventurine’s heart fluttered in surprise, his gaze softening for just a fraction of a second. The statement hit him like a stray dart, its sincerity unexpected. He blinked, his usual bravado slipping for a moment as he looked into his child's face. He saw the same fire, the same spark that had driven him to succeed, to survive. But hearing it from someone else, especially from someone so young, left him momentarily speechless.

“You... you think so?” Aventurine’s voice wavered slightly, but he quickly regained his composure, flashing that signature smile. Still, his eyes betrayed the depth of emotion he rarely allowed himself to show.

“Of course, Papa!” The child puffed out their chest with pride, throwing their arms wide as if the universe itself should take note of the revelation. “And if anyone makes fun of me and my papa, I can punch them! Like this!” The child swung an exaggerated punch into the air, their voice rising with enthusiasm. “Pow! How dare they!”

Aventurine couldn’t suppress a laugh, though it was laced with a touch of disbelief. He shook his head, an affectionate warmth creeping into his expression. “Sweetheart, please, don’t go punching anyone... Your parent would be mad. Do that less, hmm?”

The child beamed, as if the very idea of protecting their father with such boisterous force was the most natural thing in the world. “But they’re bad if they say mean stuff, Papa! No one gets to mess with you!” They beamed up at him with unrestrained joy.

Aventurine chuckled, though there was a bittersweet edge to it, as if the weight of his past experiences was briefly lifting. He crouched down to meet the child’s eyes, gazing into those familiar magenta and cyan depths that mirrored his own. "You’ve got my eyes," he said softly, his tone almost reverent. “You know, these eyes have seen things most can’t even imagine... But seeing them on you makes me believe there’s hope."

The child tilted their head, clearly unsure of what to make of such a statement but brimming with love. “I like our eyes. They make me feel strong! Just like you, Papa.”

Aventurine’s heart stirred, the walls he so carefully built around himself threatening to crumble under the weight of his emotions. He smiled, a genuine curve of his lips. "And I’m proud of you," he said, his voice low and tender, a rare admission. "You’re stronger than you know, sweetheart."

The child’s eyes sparkled as they hugged him tightly, nearly knocking him off balance. “I’m glad I have the coolest dad in the universe!”

Aventurine stood up straight, one hand resting on the back of their head, holding them close as if he feared they might disappear in an instant. "You’ve always been the best part of my world," he whispered softly, the words barely a breath between them.

For once, the game of chance and strategy didn’t matter. In this quiet moment, Aventurine felt something that had eluded him for so long—a sense of purpose that wasn’t defined by survival or manipulation. It was defined by connection, by a child who believed in him more than anyone ever had.

#x reader #honkai star rail #hsr #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #hsr aventurine #aventurine x reader #hsr aventurine x reader #aventurine x you #fluff #parent child bonding #emotional vulnerability #protective #hidden soft side #dad!aventurine

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zigrethsnotebook · 3 days ago

Note

I love your writing! I saw you wrote Stan with a chubby reader- it was great!

Could I request some Ford x chubby/self conscious reader?👉👈

Thank you and have a great day!

thank you so much and absolutely!! have fun<3

Chubby

Ford x Reader

words: 1,009

tags: sfw, fluff, insecurities, talk about weight

"You two are horrible, you know that?" Stan's gruff voice broke the silence in the living room. He was in his old recliner and Ford and you had made yourselves comfortable on the ground with some blankets and pillows.

"What are you talking about, Stanley?" Ford's voice sounded vaguely annoyed already. You stifled a chuckle, knowing he reacts that way because they're brothers.

"You two never go out. Which means! I never get an evening for myself." Now you looked up at him as well, untangling yourself a little from Ford’s arms as you did so. Ford must have frowned at him because he tried to make his words less harsh really quickly.

"Don't get me wrong, I love ya both but come on! When was the last time you two went out to eat, or to the movies or... anywhere, really? I had kinda hoped a partner would get you out of the basement more often, Sixer." As you thought about it, you realized he was right and immediately felt bad.

You never made an effort to go into town for a date because you didn’t like the way people stared at you both. You knew you weren't skinny but to stare at you like that? It hurt and was making you worry if you really deserve to be with someone like Ford.

He was so fit for his age, insanely handsome. Meanwhile you were just... you. Heavier than most people and while you tried to hide it as best as you could, you weren't very successful. Your weight had reached a point of not being able to be 'covered up'.

You had never spoken to Ford about this, your insecurities about your weight, and that that's why you didn’t enjoy going into town that much. Funnily enough, with Ford you had found someone who wasn't big on socializing like that either. He usually kept to himself down in his lab so he never brought it up.

But now Stan did. You swallowed heavily. Meanwhile Ford seemed to light up at the idea. "You're right, we should go on more conventional dates! It could be fun!"

Ford's voice got a little louder in your ear as he turned to you for the next sentence, squeezing your belly a little tighter in the process. "And I would get to show you off to the townsfolk while we're out."

Your expression had turned into a frown and without a word you took his arms off of you, got up and left the living room. Stan and Ford looked at each other in confusion for a moment before Ford got up to follow you.

"Love?" He called out and quickly found you in the kitchen. "What's wrong?" His voice was a lot softer now that he saw how upset you were. You sat at the table with your hands holding your head and eyes squeezed shut.

"I know I'm not much to look at but you don't have to mock me." You spat the words out more harshly then you meant to. "What?" His voice was barely above a whisper now, unable to grasp what you were talking about.

"I'm fat. I know, okay! You don't need to make fun of me for it." You had opened your eyes to look at him, anger flaring in them. Meanwhile Ford looked at you with so much concern, love and care that you felt like something was wrong. But the anger was already there.

"Why would I ever make fun of you for that?" His question was honest and the fiery rage started to flicker. "Wh- Because- You just said 'show you off' while squeezing my belly. I've seen the way the people looked at me the last time we went out together. How was I supposed to interpret that?"

Ford looked down at your belly for a moment and then locked eyes with you again and you could see the pain in his eyes. Making you feel bad was the last thing he wanted! He was only being honest. He loved you and wanted everyone in town to know about it.

"As... an honest sentiment? I... I love you, all of you. You know that, right?" Your anger was barely holding its own against the wind of his words that was trying to blow it out. Instead, his words now brought tears to your eyes.

"I said I want to show you off to the townsfolk because I do! I want to take you into the townsquare and yell: Look at my beautiful partner! They chose me! Aren't I lucky?"

Ford was kneeling in front of you now, reaching one hand out to cup your cheek. You leaned into his touch, a single tear rolling down your cheek and being immediately wiped away by Ford's thumb.

"I squeezed your belly because, well first off all, because that's what I was holding in that moment. But also, because I love your belly! It's a part of you that I love like any other part. And the fact that it's a little bigger is a plus in my eyes! It means that when we fall into another dimension we'll have more time to find a solution before we starve to death."

You furrowed your brows and chuckled lightly. "If... If we fall into another dimension, right?" Ford averted his eyes, his chuckle sounding more nervous than reassuring. "Right. If."

He looked back into your eyes, letting his thumb caress your cheek. "What I mean to say is: You are the most beautiful person in my eyes and I don’t care what anyone else thinks, okay?" His eyes held nothing but honesty and genuine affection for you.

You believed him. "Okay... yeah." You shook your head, the realization of all the stupid things you accused him of setting in. "God, I’m so sorry, Ford." "Don't be."

His voice was as gentle as before and he reached his other hand up as well to wrap you in a tight hug which you happily reciprocated. "Thank you."

#zigreth answers #gravity falls #gravity falls x reader #zigreth writes #stanford pines #ford pines x reader #stanford pines x reader

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jediwrites · 3 days ago

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slice of life: jedi edition ch.1

//Anakin Skywalker x Jedi Knight Reader

this is pure fluff and nothing more. (+1k)

warning: a lot of kissing and nonsense stuff that came out of my head

Your fingers brushed the soft curls of Anakin’s hair, his head resting in your chest, while his arms surrounded you. The sound of your calm heartbeat and the gentle cuddling was making the man fall asleep again. Unfortunately, the shy sun’s rays entering through the window indicated that soon you would have to part ways.

"Ani, you already gave a class to the Younglings, right?"

"Yeah… why?"

"Master Yoda asked me to take care of them this week." You said. “I’m trying to think about some things I can show them.”

Anakin stayed still for a moment, making you think he slept again. But without a warning, he tightens his arm around you, making a sound like he is straightening out. Laughing, you tried to push him off.

Anakin raised his head, one of his arms over your belly, while the other was supporting his body. Gazing at you, he gave you a faked pity look. “That’s a horrible thing to ask someone, doesn't he know that?”

You rolled your eyes at him. “It’s not that terrible.”

“If you say so.” He said with a sarcastic tone, burying his face in your neck, making you giggle. "If I remember right, I tried to tell them about my own stories, but they only wanted to know about lightsaber tricks."

His eyes got back to yours, a boyish grin plastered in his face. "Though I can't blame them for that, they know the fun part."

You snorted. "I don’t know about that, levitating things with your mind seems more fun."

His lips curled, saying in a playful tone “Maybe you’re right”, before locking your lips together.

After some time, you and Anakin had to rise from the comfort of the bed. You finished putting your belt over your clothes and looked at him, his back to you while he picked up his tunic on the chair. You smirked, an idea passing though your mind.

“I was thinking-”

“No,” Anakin said flatly, putting on the tunic and turning to you.

“You don’t even know what I have to say,” you huffed, exasperated.

Crossing his arms, he gave you a look. “You don’t need to, I know exactly what you will say and my answer is no.”

“You clearly don’t.” You imitate his pose.

“Okay, so continue then.”

You got to him, putting your hands on his shoulder, feeling the man softening under your touch.

“I was thinking that would be perfect if you showed up.”

“No.” Giving a quick peck on your lips, he got out of your embrace, catching his robe and belt off the floor.

“Come on, Ani,” you begged. “You are not that bad with children, they love you, it will be amazing.”

“I already had an experience with them worth a lifetime, darling, I don't want to repeat that.” He finished with his belt, and looked at you. “You’re asking for an impossible thing.”

“Fine.” You crossed your arms, with a little pout on your lips that made him chuckle.

He then stepped to you, pulling you by your hips and closing the gap between your lips.

It was now your time to melt under his touch.

You were standing at one of the windows of the Jedi Temple’s corridor, sight fixed at the skyline of speeders going on in the distance, the hurried pace of Coruscant seemed to be the same as your heart. Sighing, you gazed at the final of the corridor, expecting to see Master Yoda, but he was nowhere.

You shouldn’t be so nervous about having to take care of the Younglings — it would be only a few days, a break from the battlefield. However, to you, as a Jedi Knight, everything that involved teaching the Jedi Younglings — and Padawans —, seemed to carry a heavy weight to it. They are the future of the Order after all.

Closing your eyes, you tried to ease your feelings, focusing on the warmth of the sun in your face. Inhale. Exhale. After some time you could only feel the Force through your body.

“This view is really beautiful, don’t you think?” Someone said behind you, getting you out of your meditation.

Turning to the familiar voice, you got Anakin looking directly at you, a smile on his face. Grasping his comment, a smile emerges on yours, with your heart going back to the rapidly beating from early, but now for a different reason.

Before you could respond to him, a group of Jedi Padawans entered the corridor, making you stiffen in your positions, the warm smile fading away. Anakin sighed.

“I thought you were with the Chancellor,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest.

“We will meet later today.” Anakin looks around. “So, where are they?

“Who?”

“The Younglings, I thought we would show them some lightsaber tricks.”

The sudden appearance of Anakin made you rapidly forget about your upcoming task. You arched your eyebrow. “We?”

“Well, I changed my mind.” He shrugged.

The group passed you two, some greetings were exchanged between you before they got going down the corridor until they were out of sight. Coming closer to you, Anakin whispered. “And to be honest, even if I find it terrible, what I wouldn’t do for you, hm?”

You crooked your head, a smirk appearing in your face. “Actually, there are things-”

Anakin rolled his eyes. “For the last time, I won’t let my beard grow.”

The first time you said such thing, he shot you a look that you will always remember and laugh at.

“Fine, your choice, but know that you are preventing all of us from witnessing a masterpiece.” Touching this matter seemed to get under Anakin’s skin for some reason, and you found it very funny. You strongly believed in your assumption, though. “And I said to let it grow when you get older, Master Kenobi is such a cute with that beard of his.”

The disbelief in Anakin’s face was noticeable, but before he could respond, a thud startled you. You stepped away hastily. Turning to where the sound came, you face Master Yoda, a bengal stick in his hand and a questioning look.

“Master Yoda.” You shifted your gaze to your hands. “Hope the Younglings are fine for today.”

You hold yourself from cringing at your own words. You definitely could pretend better than that, but not with Yoda, it seemed.

“Very excited they are, young one.”

“I hope you don’t mind if I come together, Master,” Anakin said, trying to ease the tension.

“He offered to help me today.” A smile brightened your expression again. “I clearly wouldn’t declined this kind offer.”

Anakin playfully rolled his eyes, exchanging looks with you.

“A surprise, this is.” Yoda looked at the two young Jedi. “Skywalker coming back to work with the Younglings, had never thought I would see.”

“Sometimes it is good to give a second try.”

The older Jedi shotted him a smile. “Right you are, young Skywalker.”

A/N: after so many tries, i was finally able to write one of my ideas down. i didn't liked it that much (idk i feel like i dont know how to write anakin yet), but eh anyway :)) i tried to revise throughly this one before posting, but if you find any grammar mistake, please let me know. dividers are from this post.

#jediwrites' fics #anakin is my sweet boy :(((#anakin x reader #anakin skywalker x fem reader #star wars fanfiction #sw fanfic #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin skywalker x jedi reader #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker x you

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probablyreadinsmut · 2 days ago

Text

Credits to Velnnnn on Pinterest for this image

I've just started playing Tlou for the first time and as much of a scaredy cat as I am, I'd really like to complete at least the first game. I am playing on VERY LIGHT (judge me all you want but I don't play games to stress myself out, I play them for fun and immersion, which yes, believe it or not can be achieved on the easiest setting).

That being said, it's giving me ideas. About this man specifically. Gas mask Joel Miller. The man that you are.

So with that in mind, please enjoy this purely gratuitous porn with very little plot.

Warnings/tags: Legal age gap (Anywhere from a year younger than him to 30 years), Joel's an asshole but we (collectively) love him anyway, Heavy on the mask kink. No Ellie in this bc you're the precious cargo here, awwh and no Tess bc I can't do my girl like that . Flirting, Vaginal fingering, Praise, Canon Typical Violence, clickers, Language (Swearing) No betas, apologies in advance for any spelling or grammatical errors but I'm here for a good time not a long time. 🤷

Silent, not quiet.

GasMask Joel Miller X Immune Afab! Reader - One Shot.

It had been three days since you'd left the Boston QZ with this complete stranger. He was actually making you miss the uncomfortable life you had back there.

Joel Miller was a fucking asshole, Marlene hadn't been kidding when she'd told you that.

'Prepare yourself, because he's not the easiest person to be around'

Understatement of the fucking century. If you ever see Marlene again, you're pretty sure you're going to strangle her on the spot for that one.

He was just so coarse. You couldn't do anything right in his eyes. You were quiet when he told you to be quiet. You stayed put when he told you to stay put. When you tried to tell him you knew how to fight, he wouldn't have any of it, telling you to 'Shut up and listen to him' before going on ahead to stealthily kill four runners and a clicker all on his own.

You couldn't wrap your head around it. He was absolutely infuriating. Treating you like a child. Treating you like you were a fucking China doll instead of a grown adult. At least that's how you felt.

After he'd taken out all the soldiers that were swarming the Capitol building looking for the two of you, you both sprinted into the subway, bullets whizzing by your head as more of FEDRA boots hit the ground.

"Spores. Fuck" he hissed as he hastily pulled on his gas mask and grabbed you roughly by the arm, tugging you into a dark, empty subway car, pinning you against the wall, pressing himself flat against you as you hide, hearing the approaching sound of footsteps making their way into the tunnel.

Your heart is pounding in your chest right now, not from fear but from something else entirely, feeling him pressed up against you like this, trying to control his breathing after exerting himself.

You're eyeing him in this mask, which surprises you, considering how much of a dick he's been since you first left with him. Maybe it's not about him, maybe it's about the fact that you haven't gotten laid since before the bite. If the wrong person saw it, you'd be toast. Your brains would have been splayed out across the sidewalk so fucking fast if FEDRA found out.

You realise you've been staring for a second too long when his head cocks in your direction, Hazel eyes narrowing as they assess you. "How are you breathing in this stuff?"He whispers, not wanting to alert the soldiers to your position.

You respond with a small shrug, cramped against the wall. "I wasn't lying when I told you I was immune. You're going to have to trust me some time or another."

A flicker of recognition fills his gaze but it's gone as fast as it had arrived when the soldiers announce their retreat. "They got away! Fuck it. Let the fucking clickers have 'em let's move out"

It's silent as you both listen carefully, not daring to move or breathe too loudly right now.

You're staring at him again, it's hard not to. Something about him in this fucking mask, it's an awakening. An unwanted one. Especially given the situation you're in.

"Okay I think they're--" His eyes narrow as he clocks you surveying him again for the second time in the last five minutes "What?"

Oh fuck. Learn to be more subtle.

"N-nothing!" your nervous smile and the way you answer just a little too quickly, doesn't convince him.

"Y'sure darlin'?" He drawls, you can't see it, but you know hes smirking under that fucking mask. "Yer lookin' a lil nervous right now... Wouldn't happen to be 'cause of me, would it?" Cocky bastard. So sure of himself.

You scoff and roll your eyes heavily, attempting to counter his accusation by putting on a facade of indifference. "Oh puh-leez. I'd rather kiss a clicker."

The hand that had been pinning your shoulder to the wall, slowly drifts down, calloused fingers grazing your collarbone. "That so? Well I didn't offer a kiss, darlin'" The way his voice is like honey, filling your ears with his deep, rich baritone has goose bumps breaking out all over your body and heat curling low in your stomach. He's stoking the embers, trying to ignite that flame inside you. He's succeeding.

Now isn't the time or place for any of this, but your mind is hazy with adrenaline and lust, mixing together in an intoxicating cocktail. Shifting slightly to arch your body against his, letting him feel the soft, warm curves of your body tight against him, you speak with a voice as smooth as silk "No? Then what were you offering me, Miller?"

It has the intended effect on him, feeling him getting hard against your hip

It's a challenge. It's permission. As much as you despise how he's been with you these past few days, you haven't been fucked in so long and he's here, throwing out all the signals that he's down to break that dry spell with you. Right here, right now.

"We do this, we do it my way. We clear?" The stern tone just makes matters worse, feeling the damp spot in your panties starting to become uncomfortably sticky. Authority has always been a turn on for you.

With a slow nod and a desperate little lip bite as his green light, his hand slides down, tracing over the curve of your breast, knuckles brushing over your peaking nipple.

The tiniest of sighs leaves you at his touch and you realise how truly touch starved you've been, there's only so much pleasure you could get from your own fingers.

From under the mask, his eyes stay fixed on your face, watching as your lips part, making those little noises for him. He's enchanted by it and he needs more, just like you do.

Your breath hitches as his hand begins to trail further down your body, undoing the button and zip on your jeans before he goes that step further, slipping past the denim confines. A low groan leaves him when he finds you soaked already. "Baby, you're a mess already...and I've hardly even touched you..."

You feel the prickle of embarrassment on your cheeks from that comment, the fact that he'd gotten you all worked up just from close proximity and a stupid mask was insane, unfathomable. But here you were. Despite that, you're chasing his touch with your hips, needing him to soothe the ache between your legs.

"S'okay darlin'. Ain't gonna make you wait. No time for that" With that, he slips his hand under the elastic, wasting no time in finding that sensitive bundle of nerves with his fingers. You realise just how long it's been since someone else touched you by your own reaction, biting your lip to hold back the moan, fingers curling into the collar of his faded plaid green shirt.

He starts by rubbing in small slow circles with his middle and index finger, watching and listening for the little cues from you before he quickens the pace. Your restrained moans and heavy pants, combined with the way your brows pinch, tell him everything he needs to know.

His hand dips lower, circling his digits around your entrance, collecting your essence and dragging it back up to your clit, rubbing in tighter, faster circles.

It's at this point that you slap a hand over your mouth, you're pretty sure FEDRA are gone but the last thing you need is for them to come running back, drawn by the sound of you being pleasured.

"S'okay baby. I've got you. You're doing so good for me, c'mon lemme make you feel good" Joel croons in your ear, only slightly muffled by the mask.

When he hears your breathing start to get shorter and sharper under your hand, he takes his oppertuinity, sinking two thick fingers into your velvety heat, without any resistance. "Atta girl... You gonna cum for me huh? You know how... Fucking. Filthy. This is? Letting me... Do this. To you. Right now?" He puncuates his words with deep thrusts of his fingers, his thumb finding your clit to conduct a dual assault on your senses.

You have to bite your hand to keep yourself from making too much noise, eyes rolling back in your head as you begin to crest, feeling yourself trembling. His free hand snakes around your waist helping you to stay upright, if you were lucid enough you'd consider this a sweet gesture, right now though all you can focus on is his fingers inside you and his heavy breaths in your ear.

If someone had told you 3 days ago that this man would be fingerfucking you while he wears a gasmask, you'd have told them they were bat shit crazy, but here you are.

You're just about to reach your peak when you both hear the echoes of something metallic falling and rolling across the floor. Both of you freeze in place, eyes wide as his fingers are still inside you. You're listening closely, waiting to hear a walkie talkie crackle or the formation footsteps that tell you the soldiers have returned.

But no, it's worse than that. Much worse.

The telltale clicking has you clenching for a whole other reason right now, attempting to push his hand away, but he doesn't move, eyes narrowing like he's zeroing in on the noise himself.

"S'fine. It's not close. As long as we don't make too much noise we'll be fine." by we he means you. "I need you to be silent, got it? Not quiet, silent"

Your pulse thrums in equal parts nervousness and arousal. The thrill of being caught would usually have you begging already, but this isn't a scenario where you'd want to be caught. Clickers aren't something to be taken lightly.

Rationality is screaming at you to tell him to stop, but you don't want him to stop.

"Keep going." You say in a breathy whisper, clamping both your hands over your mouth now.

Without missing a beat he starts again Not bothering to build back up to it, you're still on the edge of climax and he can feel it in the way you're clenching around his digits.

He'd give anything to murmur praise and filth in your ear right now, Joel's incredibly talkative during sex, loving to talk his partners through it with praise and authority. Right now tbough he holds off, dropping his head to your shoulder, curling his fingers to hook against that spongy spot inside you that usually has women gasping. Fuck he's so hard right now, wondering what you actually sound like when you're completely untethered, thinking about what it would be like to have you making those noises as you come apart on his cock.

It's taking everything in you right now not to make a single noise, you can hear the clicking echoing in the subway tunnels, to you it sounds like it's getting closer but if it were attracted to your sounds, you'd know by now. Dying with your pants down wasn't on your list of priorities.

You can't hold back any longer, wanting nothing more than to cry out his name as you cum. But you can't, instead you grab his shoulder, nails digging into the material there, leaving the other hand clamped firmly over your mouth.

You can hold back the moans but what you can't hide is how hard you cum on his fingers, your release drips down his knuckles as he fucks you through it, the quietest of groans leaving him in return.

When you're back down to earth and no longer trembling, he slowly removes his fingers with a wet pop. If he didn't have the mask to worry about, he'd absolutely suck them clean. Instead he settles for wiping them off on his shirt, he knows he'll be smelling you for days on him. He fucking loves that.

///

As you right yourself in the subway car, buttoning your jeans back up in a post orgasm stupor, he goes off to dispatch the clicker with ease, as per usual.

Once you hear the all clear from him, you hop down out of the car, rubble crunching under your boots.

"C'mon let's keep movin', should be able to get out through the east side if it's clear."

You think for a moment that he's gone back to being the stoic asshat from before, that is until what he does next.

He reaches out to gently grip your chin between his fingers and thumb, the very same that had just bought you the quietest orgasm of your life. "Don't think this means I'm done with you darlin'. We need to find somewhere to bunker down tonight. Somewhere secure. Because the second we do, I need to be inside you. I need to hear those pretty little moans of yours for real. Got it?"

Maybe travelling with Joel Miller won't be so bad after all.

Hours later, he proves you right about that.

///

Tags: @lovely-vamp-princess @joelmillerisapunk @almostempty @itwasntimethatdidit40 @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @cheekychaos28

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #the last of us #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller x afab!reader #joel miller x female reader #the last of us game #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fic #the last of us smut #troy baker #joel miller smut

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darksaiyangoku · 2 days ago

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RWBY Christmas Tales

Blessing of the Hunt

It was Christmas Eve in the Kingdom of Vale and Jaune, Blake, Sun, Scarlet, Sage and Neptune all gathered around a table inside the Crow Bar tavern. Each of the boys guzzled on a large pint of beer, much to the concern of Blake.

Blake: Jaune, that's the fifth beer you've chugged down. Let me get you some water.

Jaune: Nononono, *giggles* I'm fiiiiiiiiine~

Blake: Jaune, sweetie, you're drunk.

Sage: Ah lay off him! *hic* After being dragged by that Nevermore, he's earned himself a treat!

Scarlet: Barkeep! Another round for my friends! *smashes cup on the floor*

Blake: *shakes head* I don't think so. *carries Jaune* Come on, Jaune.

Jaune: Wha? But we're having fuuuuuunnn!

Blake: You've had quite enough fun here, Mister. Besides, I'm not cleaning up after you again.

Jaune: Don't worrrrrrry, I got it *burp* all under control!

Blake: *groans* Let's just get out of here.

Blake waved goodbye to the SSSN Knights and carried her drunken boyfriend outside. She felt a cold tingle on her nose and looked up to find that it started to snow. She and Jaune trudged along the path to their house, with the snow falling faster and heavier. Soon the air turned biting cold and a low howl rumbled in Blake's ears. Her eyes shrank and her breath became sharp. They needed somewhere to hide. Fast. Blake's eyes darted around the landscape and they fell upon an icy forest. It wasn't perfect, but it should suffice for now. Blake quietly grunted as she trudged along, dragging Jaune. As she continued stepping forward, the howls grew louder and they were followed by the violent galloping of hooves. Blake had no time to think and hurled herself and Jaune behind a nearby tree.

Jaune: B-Blaaaake? Wha-

Blake: *covers Jaune's mouth* Shhhh. We have to be quiet. Otherwise we'll be seen by them.

Jaune: *whispers* W-Who?

Suddenly, a loud bang cracked the air and a pale horse appeared right in front of the couple. It had ghastly, glowing blue eyes and sat atop it was a cloaked man wearing a crow's mask and wielding a sword and chain Slowly, he turned his head and growled.

Wild Hunt Leader: Well, well, well. Looks like some travellers dared to venture into our forests. This place is off limits to mortals, I'm afraid.

Blake: *gulps*L-Listen, o' honourable leader of The Wild Hunt, we were only trying to escape from the snow and-

Wild Hunt Leader: I don't want to hear your excuses, dear. Those who trespass here have to pay the toll; your lives. *points sword* Don't worry, I'll be sure to make it quick.

The Wild Hunt Leader raised his sword to hack at Blake, but Jaune quickly rose up and grabbed the blade, wincing at cuts in his hands.

Jaune: Grrrr! Don'cha *hic* lay a fffffinger on herrrrrrr.

Blake: Jaune, no! What are you doing?!

Wild Hunt Leader: I'd listen to your beloved if I were you. No one has ever dared to fight us and survive. You're completely outclassed.

Jaune: Whooo ssssssaid anyshing abou fightin' ya? *giggles* I gotta bedder idea!

Blake: Oh for the love of- *facepalm*

Jaune: You and I play tugofwar! If we win, we go bye-bye! If you win, you can lemme be a while hunger!

Wild Hunt Leader: *chuckles* I assure you that we are not that desperate for new members, especially the living.

Jaune: Oh come onnnnnn! You chicken? Bawk-bawk-bawk.

Wild Hunt Leader: *laughs* Very well. *gives chain* We'll go three rounds. Good luck.

The Wild Hunt Leader gave one end of the chain to Jaune as he held onto the other and rode far away to other side of the forest. Blake was in complete shock. Jaune was impulsive and reckless, but she never known him to be this stupid. Her blood was boiling with anger and her brow furrowed.

Blake: What the hell were you thinking?! How could you gamble our very lives like this?! You do not stand a chance against him, you know that! Why would you even-

Jaune: *covers Blake's mouth* Shhhhhhhh, I has a plans! Look.

Jaune wrapped the chain around the tree trunk several times, gritting his teeth from the heavy weight.

Jaune: Watch this. *shouts* Ready!

From the distance, the Wild Hunt Leader tugged hard, making the chain rattle. However, it still stood wrapped around the tree. He tried again, but the same thing happened. The Wild Hunt Leader roared and tugged again for a third and final time. But the chain still stood intact. Blake looked at Jaune, who grinned at her.

Jaune: Neat, huh?

The Wild Hunt Leader rode back and found out what happened. He dismounted his horse walked towards Jaune. Jaune backed into the tree and felt his heart race. He was going to die. He knew it. But then something peculiar happend happened. The Wild Hunt Leader took the sword from his belt and placed it Jaune's hands.

Jaune: ....huh?

Wild Hunt Leader: You have bested me, mortal and for that, I congratulate you with this gift.

Jaune: B-B-B-But I cheastesd.

Wild Hunt Leader; No you didn't, you beat me. Battle is not just about strength, it's about wits too. That is what truly keeps you alive. I honour with this gift; the sword Crocea Mors.

Jaune: *smiles* Shank you! *bows clumsily*

Wild Hunt Leader: Farewell, mortals *mounts horse*and Merry Christmas.

The horse gave a booming neigh as the Wild Hunt Leader rode off to join his troops. Blake gave a warm smile and wrapped Jaune in a loving hug.

Blake: *giggles* This is the last time you're drinking, mister. I mean it, no more.

Jaune: Awww, okays. *hugs her*

Blake: *kisses Jaune* Merry Christmas, sweetheart.

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archivequinn · 16 hours ago

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Never Have I Ever, Drinking Game.

Summary: Eddie and Steve confess their feelings for each other in a fun drinking game. fluff, happy ending.

Words: 2,767

ao3 link | dividers by @strangergraphics

Eddie was placing a six-pack of beer on the old but sturdy table in the corner of the caravan, smiling at Steve as he did. "Beers are ready. Even if Robin doesn’t show up, our night won’t be ruined," he said with a teasing tone in his voice.

Steve, slouched in a worn but comfortable armchair in the corner of the caravan, was running his hands through his hair and whining. "I mean, seriously... She didn’t even say why she’s not coming! She just sent a message: ‘I can’t make it today, have fun.’ What does that even mean? I don’t get it!"

Eddie chuckled softly as he opened one of the packs on the table. "Oh, it means that sometimes people change plans. Sad but true. But hey, at least we’ve got a perfect excuse to watch a cheesy horror movie tonight. Plus pizza... That’s non-negotiable."

The interior of the caravan was lit by the warm, slightly yellow glow of Eddie’s lamp. Sitting in the armchair, Steve threw his hands up in exasperation and kept talking. "We were supposed to be three tonight. Like a group. A dynamic trio, you know?"

"Three people, two people, what’s the difference?" Eddie said as he sat at the table and popped open one of the beer bottles. "Be honest, Steve. You’re not really upset about Robin not coming tonight. The real issue is, who’s going to comfort you during those dumb jump scares in the horror movie?"

Steve rolled his eyes and grabbed a beer. "You’re ridiculous. Horror movies don’t scare me."

At that moment, Eddie pulled out an old VHS tape from the cabinet above, holding it up in the air. The cover was worn, and the faded label read “Night of Darkness 3” in scrawled letters. "Are you ready, Harrington? This movie was voted the worst horror film of all time. It’s so bad that people cover their eyes out of secondhand embarrassment."

Steve groaned. "If it’s that bad, why are we even watching it?"

"Because there’s an art to badness." Eddie grinned as he slid the VHS into the player and adjusted a tangled pile of cables next to the TV.

The caravan filled with the bluish glow of the old TV’s flickering screen. Between Eddie’s loud laughter, Steve’s grumbling, and the dramatic music of the outdated horror film, the night slowly took shape.

Eddie rolled his eyes as he noticed Steve continuing to complain. Even the terrible horror movie playing on the TV wasn’t enough to distract Steve from Robin’s absence. Meanwhile, a slow grin spread across Eddie’s face. He had a brilliant idea. A perfect way to shut Steve up and have a little fun.

"Alright, Harrington, cut it out. We can’t let the night go to waste just because Robin’s not here. I’ve got a proposition for you," Eddie said, his grin impossible to hide.

Steve looked up at him, his expression skeptical. "What kind of proposition?"

Eddie got up, grabbed a handful of shot glasses from the table, and headed toward the kitchen. “We’re going to play a game,” he said without looking back. Opening the cupboard, he started pulling out various drinks: beer, whiskey, red wine, white wine, and a mixed cocktail. He brought them all to the table and began filling the shot glasses.

Steve frowned as he watched him. “What’s this? A drinking party?”

Eddie shook his head, laughing as he handled the bottles. “Much more than that, Harrington. This is a drinking game. It’s called Never Have I Ever. Here are the rules: We sit across from each other, raise our hands, and take turns saying something we’ve never done in our lives. If the other person has done it, they put a finger down and take a random shot from the table. You can’t choose what you drink—it’s all up to chance. Whoever runs out of fingers first loses. Got it?”

Steve squinted at him. “Alright, but… what if I put down all my fingers at once? Or keep picking the wrong glass?”

Eddie barely held back his laughter. “That’s the fun of it. Nobody wins, everyone loses. But at least we’ll laugh a lot. So, what do you say? Got the guts?”

Steve couldn’t resist Eddie’s challenge and crossed his arms. “I’m not scared of some dumb drinking game!”

Eddie grinned and gestured with both hands. “Hands up, Harrington. I’ll start: Never have I ever flown on a plane.”

Steve gave him an annoyed look. “Seriously? That’s your opening question?” Shaking his head, he put down one finger and grabbed a random shot. He had picked the cocktail. After taking a sip, he raised an eyebrow slightly. “What is this? A tropical candy?”

Eddie responded with laughter. “Oh, Harrington, this is just the beginning. Your turn. Be creative.”

Steve took a deep breath, shot Eddie a challenging look, and raised his hands again. “Alright… Never have I ever jumped onto a concert stage.”

Eddie’s grin froze for a moment. “Oh, clever. You’re targeting me on purpose, aren’t you?” Laughing, he put down a finger and took a shot. He’d picked the whiskey. After a sip, he raised his eyebrows and sniffed slightly. “Good one. But remember, when it’s my turn, I won’t hold back.”

The game picked up pace, laughter and drinks creating a cheerful rhythm that echoed through the caravan as they played.

Eddie, blending the burn of the alcohol with his laughter, was pleased to see Steve’s mood improving. Steve’s exaggerated expressions and muttered comments every time he put down a finger and reached for a random shot made Eddie laugh even harder.

Steve, a bit more relaxed, said, “Alright, my turn,” furrowing his brows as he thought. After a moment, he spoke with a sly grin on his face: “Never have I ever… played Dungeons & Dragons.”

Eddie’s eyebrows shot up, and then he dramatically lowered a finger. “Ah, Harrington. You and your ordinary life! But guess what? This only makes me stronger.” He picked a random glass and downed it quickly. When he realized it was wine, he scrunched up his face. “Wine? Seriously? Not my thing, man.”

Steve couldn’t help but laugh. Eddie raised his fingers again, signaling it was his turn. The mischievous grin on his face widened even more. “My turn. Never have I ever… been popular in high school.”

Steve’s laughter stopped abruptly, turning into a strangled groan at Eddie’s words. “Really, Eddie? That’s your move? Can’t you stop targeting me?” He lowered a finger and grabbed a shot glass from the table. This time, it was whiskey. As he sipped, his face twisted, but his defiant glare at Eddie didn’t waver. “You’re going to pay for that.”

Eddie leaned back in his chair, laughing. “Bring it on, Harrington. You’re terrifying me. Your turn.”

Steve thought for a moment with a cheeky grin before speaking. “Never have I ever… used a fake ID to get into a bar.”

Eddie burst into laughter again, reluctantly lowering another finger. “Alright, alright! I admit it, I’ve done it a few times. But for the record, I didn’t get caught.” He grabbed a random shot, relieved to find it was beer this time. “Looks like my luck’s turning around. But that won’t stop me from destroying you with my next confession.”

The game continued, the confessions becoming both funnier and a bit more personal. When Eddie said, “Never have I ever helped someone put gel in their hair,” Steve lowered another finger, rolling his eyes. “The fact that you make it sound like a crime is upsetting,” he retorted in mock indignation.

When Steve declared, “Never have I ever cried during a horror movie,” Eddie had to lower a finger. “But it was an emotional moment, okay? It happens in good movies!” he defended himself.

Eventually, both of them were down to their last finger. Eddie leaned back against the couch, smirking lightly as he looked at Steve. “One last move, Harrington. Make it count.”

Eddie’s chaotic yet cozy caravan was filled with the faint haze of alcohol, laughter, and gentle shaking from their movements. Steve leaned his head back against the couch, locking eyes with Eddie. Fueled by the alcohol and feeling the weight in his heart begin to lift, he sensed it was the right moment to let it out.

Eddie noticed the look on Steve’s face and smirked teasingly. “Harrington, judging by how hard you’re thinking, is your next move going to be that big? What are you hiding? Come on, let’s hear it.”

Steve took a deep breath, his eyes locked on Eddie’s bright, almost childlike but deeply expressive gaze, and began to speak. “Never have I ever… admitted to someone, especially someone, that I’m truly in love with them.”

Eddie’s laughter stopped abruptly. The sudden shift in mood left him staring at Steve in surprise. “Wow, that’s… that’s a big one, man. I mean, yeah, not the usual kind of thing to say during this game. But… solid move. So, in that case, I guess—”

Steve noticed Eddie trying to brush it off lightly and cut him off. “No, Eddie. I’m not done.”

That statement snapped Eddie’s full attention back to him. The determination in Steve’s expression cut through the air like a knife. Eddie, who had been casually slouched in his seat, straightened up and leaned slightly closer. “Alright, Harrington. I’m listening. Who’s the lucky person? Who’s got you all serious like this?”

Steve hesitated for a moment, studying Eddie’s slightly bewildered but curious face under the dim light of the caravan. It felt as if the rest of the world had disappeared, leaving just the two of them in a heavy silence. “That person...” Steve said, his voice slow but resolute. “That person is you, Eddie.”

Eddie froze in his seat, the weight of Steve’s words landing like a thunderclap. For a moment, he couldn’t speak. The sincerity in Steve’s eyes burned so intensely that Eddie knew instantly this wasn’t a joke.

“Harrington...” Eddie swallowed, searching for words. His face was a mixture of surprise, a faint smile, and a trace of confusion. “This… this is something you say in a drinking game? Or are you actually...”

Steve cut him off again, leaning in slightly. “Eddie, this isn’t a game. It’s not a joke. I’ve felt this way for a long time, but I didn’t know how to say it. Maybe I was scared. But now, here we are, and I have to tell you. Because I can’t keep it to myself anymore.”

Eddie just sat there, staring at Steve, clearly not expecting this kind of confession. Words seemed to elude him, an unusual occurrence for someone so quick-witted. His hands unconsciously gripped his glass tightly.

Steve grew uneasy at Eddie’s lack of response. “Eddie...” he said softly, almost timidly. “Say something, please. If… if this was a mistake or if it makes you uncomfortable...”

Eddie took a deep breath and finally spoke. “Hold on, Steve. This... I mean... are you serious? Really?” His voice wavered slightly, making him appear more vulnerable than Steve had ever seen.

Steve looked into Eddie’s eyes and, summoning every ounce of courage, nodded. “Yes, Eddie. I’m serious. But don’t you understand why it scared me so much to say this? You... you’re different. I never knew how to approach you. Because… what if you rejected me?”

Eddie was still in shock. He ran a hand through his hair and leaned back against the couch. “This... how long have you felt this way?”

Steve lowered his head slightly and sighed. “I don’t know. I can’t remember exactly when it started. But I think the first time I truly felt it was when we were walking and talking together in that damn Upside Down. Watching you, I thought... this guy is someone special. It was hard to admit how I felt at that moment. Because… because you’re the complete opposite of everything I am.”

Eddie let out a sarcastic laugh, but it was nothing more than an attempt to mask his astonishment. “And that’s why you said nothing? Seriously, Steve? God...” He paused for a moment, then averted his gaze from Steve and added, “You know what’s ironic? I’ve... I’ve had feelings for you since high school.”

Steve’s face froze entirely. “What?” he whispered in disbelief. “Eddie, are you... are you serious?!”

Eddie rolled his eyes, though it was just another way to cover up his shyness. “I’m serious, Harrington. But you, Steve Harrington, were the King of Hawkins High. Popular, handsome, the guy everyone chased after. And who was I? A ‘freak,’ the outcast kid. How could I have said anything to you?”

Hearing Eddie’s words, Steve almost flinched as though in pain. “But Eddie… you… how did I not see it? God, I wish I had been braver.”

Eddie shook his head, a bittersweet smile playing on his lips. “If you couldn’t be brave, neither could I. Because I felt the same fear. The fear of losing you. Even when there was the slightest hint of friendship between us, I didn’t want to risk it. And… tonight, when Robin didn’t come, I realized being alone with you scared me. Because I knew exactly how I’d feel.”

Steve became even more emotional at this confession. “That’s why I was a little nervous today, too. But Eddie... the fact that tonight started as just another game night has already made it one of the best moments of my life. Because now, I’m not hiding. And I’m not carrying the fear of losing you. No matter what, I had to tell you this.”

Eddie’s smile slowly faded as he gazed into Steve’s eyes. Steve’s eyes were glistening, fighting back tears. His lips quivered slightly. “Eddie... but what if... what if I made a mistake tonight? What if... what if I ruined everything?” he said, his voice cracking and low.

Eddie immediately grew serious, reaching out to take Steve’s hands in his own. “Hey, hey. Listen to me. This is not a mistake. It’s never a mistake. Everything you’ve said, everything you’ve felt, it’s all real. And I’m here. I’m right here with you.”

Steve nodded, taking a deep breath. “But I’m scared, Eddie. Even just sitting here with you... the possibility that everything could go wrong is killing me. Maybe… maybe I was too open.”

Eddie leaned in closer to Steve’s face, his brown eyes radiating a heartfelt warmth. “Steve Harrington, you are the bravest person in the world. What you did—opening your heart to me—is the biggest thing anyone could do. And know this: I feel the same way. We don’t have to rush this. But there’s one thing you need to know: everything is okay. You and me... this feels so much more right than you think.”

Steve, Eddie’s words seemed to calm him down a little, though he still couldn’t hide the emotional expression on his face. He smiled faintly, licking his lips for a moment before nodding. “So... Eddie, can I ask you something?”

Eddie raised his eyebrows slightly. “Of course. Ask away.”

Steve cleared his throat and spoke a bit shyly. “Who won the game?”

Eddie stayed silent for a moment, then smiled and shook his head. “We both did. Something far more important than any game.”

Steve paused at those words, then leaned in closer to Eddie. “Eddie... I... thank you. For accepting me like this, for seeing me for who I am.”

Eddie tilted his head gently and lightly touched Steve’s cheeks. “You don’t have to say that. I’ve already accepted everything about you long ago. And if you’ll let me... I’d like to try something.”

Steve’s eyes widened slightly, but he didn’t hesitate for even a second before nodding. “I’ll let you.”

Eddie smiled softly as he leaned toward Steve. The distance between them gradually disappeared, their breaths mingling. And finally, Eddie’s lips brushed against Steve’s. It was a kiss that felt soft, gentle, and like the beginning of everything.

After the kiss, Eddie pulled back slightly and murmured with a smile, “I’ve been waiting for that for a long time.”

Steve, still looking slightly stunned and bashful, gazed at him with a wide smile on his face. “I should’ve done this sooner.”

Eddie couldn’t hold back his laughter, shaking his head. “Maybe now was the right time. But you know what, Harrington? This is a pretty good start.”

And in the dim light of the trailer, an old horror movie played in the background. But tonight, neither of them cared to watch. They were about to star in their own movie.

taglist: @t-folklore13 @multyfangirl @nicholaschavezslut69

#steddie fic #steddie fanfic #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #eddie munson x steve harrington #steddie fluff #steve x eddie #eddie x steve #steddie fanfiction #steddie romantic fluff #drinking game

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aroaessidhe · 2 days ago

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metal from heaven fans i have character design sketches for most of the cast I would love if anyone has Thoughts Ideas or Suggestions (gay sketches as a reward if you read to the bottom)

i did..... not quite every on page character, but pretty much everyone who's there more than once and at least vaguely described (or like. I'd do gwyar if it wouldn't be a spoiler)

all the character descriptions I have recorded are here by the way !!

some of the characters are described a lot but most are like.....their face/hair but nothing about their clothes, or the other way around, so for a lot of them I just winged it - part of the reason I wanted to do so many characters roughly was so get a sense of the overall styles and vibes? august said they were thinking about john galliano for fashion so I took a lot of inspo from that and also a heavy dose of western vibes.....fashion is not my strong point though. truly just stuck it all in a blender and slapped it on.

and also for most of these it's sort of first-or-second-pass designs - basically just getting an initial feel rather than really solidly Designed. so likely to change. I could definitely push a lot of them further!!!

fingerbluffs/choir etc!

sisphe is described with having sunlight trapped in her hair and then also a dark curtain of hair and it's PROBABLY dark but I did imagine her blonde initially because of that. going with blonde hair as a kid that got darker to compromise...

her disguise outfit isn't really described other than gloves but I kinda matched it to marney disguise (below)

harlow took me so long to figure out getting her face like I imagined and also like how I described....I'm not sure still. i love her sm

amon is accidentally giving victor arcane. the character archetype + colour palette I guess. I specifically made it blue/black with pink highlights because of the tullian gender colours though..

tbh I still haven't figured out how their bandit hoods work. I think they pull over from the back of the head but I can't figure out how to draw that in a way that works so they're bandanas for now

not pictured but what are we imagining the lurchers like. just fun punky sff motorbikes?

aristrocrats !!

i am pretty happy with my marney and goss (though goss could be shorter...)

wanna do more vikare outfits

yann i. chauncey supposed to be quite boring and nondescript but also. sure does like Like A Random Dude in this lineup huh

basically all of the bottom row are only lightly described so I just went with the initial vague mental image I had tbh!

could I put more effort into giving them more cultural distinctions / make the areas they're from more visually distinct? yes probably. it's hard to get a sense of some of that when some of the places are within ignavia and some are like.. separate continents - and there's no map to sort it out in my head. (you may notice i wrote where they're from in blue by the names though)

description: 'detailed traditional tullian/drustish/etc embroidery' me: here's some vague scribbles

could deffo get some more body diversity in here

anyway genuinely very interested if anyone is like 'I imagined x to be completely different in y way' or fancasts or anything else! i am so open to and interested in making changes if other people have thoughts (and like if you're not an artist so can't draw it yourself) (or even if you are an artist but don't have the time and want to make me draw it instead. i know the feeling)

----

thanks for reading here's sketches:

I promise I will post these properly on my art blog sometime. also if anyone has ideas for little sketches like these, of any particular interactions or whatever....

#metal from heaven #art inside! but rough and i want peoples thoughts if you have thoughts!#my art #august clarke

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mattsobvimyfav · 11 hours ago

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roommates (matthew sturniolo)

pt 19 -

Thanksgiving break had finally arrived, and I couldn’t pack my bags fast enough. The thought of heading home to spend time with my dad filled me with so much excitement that I barely noticed Chris and Matt walk in the dorm.

“Jesus fucking christ.” Chris said, pointing to the pile I’d stacked near the door.

“Yeah, no shit,” Matt added, leaning against his bed. “Are you moving home permanently?”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m just prepared, okay? Unlike you guys. What are you taking home, one hoodie and a pair of sweatpants?”

Chris grinned. “Pretty much, yeah.”

I couldn’t wait to spend uninterrupted time with my dad, cooking, watching football, and enjoying the comfort of home.

“Actually,” Matt said, breaking my train of thought, “since we’re all gonna be home, we should film a car video the day after Thanksgiving. Nick got home this morning.”

Chris perked up. “Yeah, it was really fun when you did the Q&A with us. Nick would kill us if we didn’t invite you.”

I smiled at the idea. “I’m in. But only if I get shotgun.”

“Absolutely the fuck not,” Chris said quickly, shaking his head. “The fans know that's my seat.”

“Unbelievable,” I teased, throwing a hoodie into my bag.

Chris chuckled. “Snacks are on us, though.”

I slung my bag over my shoulder, glancing at both of them. “Fine. Friday it is. Don’t let me down on the snacks.” Matt and Chris each grabbed one of my bags and their own.

The boys had grown even more in the past weeks on youtube, they are at around two hundred thousand subscribers. I haven't been in a video since the q&a.

As we all headed out of the dorm to load up our cars, Matt glanced over. “Bet you’re excited to see your dad, huh?”

“More than anything,” I said with a soft smile.

Chris grinned. “Enjoy it while it lasts. You're free from us until Friday.”

I laughed, waving them off as I got into my car. Heading home to my dad.

As soon as I pulled into the driveway of my childhood home, a wave of relief washed over me. The house looked the same as it always did. I barely had the car in park before my dad stepped out onto the porch, his arms wide open.

“Honey!” he called, his voice filled with excitement.

“Dad!” I shouted back, rushing up the steps and into his embrace. His hugs always made everything else fade away, no matter how stressful life had been.

“You’re home,” he said, holding me tight for an extra second before pulling back to look at me. “How’s my girl?”

“Better now,” I said honestly. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“I’ve missed you too, kiddo.” He grabbed my bags from the car, insisting I didn’t have to lift a finger, and brought them inside.

Once my bags were dropped in my room, my dad clapped his hands together. “So, what do you say we go out for dinner tonight? My treat. Anywhere you want.”

I grinned. “How about… Kingsleys?”

“You read my mind,” he said with a wink.

“Good, lets go,” I said, already grabbing my coat.

The waitress recognized us immediately and greeted us like old friends. We slid into a booth near the window, and my dad wasted no time ordering a coffee while I looked over the menu.

“So,” he started, leaning back in the booth. “What’s new? How’s school?”

“It’s… been a lot,” I admitted, stirring my water with a straw. “But good. Mostly good.”

He gave me a knowing look. “Mostly?”

I hesitated, not wanting to dive into the bad that had been my life lately. “You know, just the usual. Classes, making friends, figuring it all out.”

He nodded, but I could tell he wasn’t buying it entirely, but he knew if I wanted to tell him I would “Well, you’re strong. You’ll figure it out. You always do.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

When the food came, we both dove in, chatting between bites. He told me about work, his recent golf games, and a new neighbor who’d moved in down the street. I told him about my classes—leaving out all the drama.

By the time we left the diner, I felt lighter. Being with my dad always had that effect on me. As we walked to the car, he draped an arm around my shoulders.

“I’m proud of you, honey,” he said softly.

That one sentence made the entire trip home worth it.

“Thanks, Dad. I’m proud of you too.”

The ride home was filled with music and easy conversation. Once we got back, we settled into the living room,

We were lounging on the couch in the living room. My dad had just hit play on one of his favorite old Westerns when his phone buzzed on the side table. He leaned over to grab it, squinting at the screen.

“Who’s texting you this late?” I teased, stretching my legs out across the couch.

He chuckled. “It’s Jimmy.”

At the mention of Matt, Chris, and Nick’s dad, I sat up a little straighter. “What’s he saying?”

My dad raised an eyebrow as he read the message. “Apparently, Matt and Chris have been talking about you. They want us to come to their big Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow.”

My heart skipped a beat. “Wait, what? Why?”

“I don’t know, honey,” he said, holding up his phone like I could read the screen from across the room. “But Jimmy says they’ve been going on about you and he and Mary Lou wanted to invite us.”

I frowned, conflicted. After everything that had happened, the idea of sitting at a dinner table with Matt and Chris felt… complicated. Sure the past month between us has been fine but bringing family into it was a whole different thing.

My dad must’ve seen the hesitation on my face because he set his phone down and gave me a reassuring look. “We don’t have to go if you don’t want to. It’s your call, honey.”

I bit my lip, my mind racing. “I dont know”

He nodded, respecting my boundaries like he always did. “Well, think about it. Might be fun. And you know how much I love Thanksgiving food.”

I laughed softly. “You really can’t resist a good turkey, huh?”

“Guilty as charged,” he said with a grin.

“I’ll let you know in the morning,” I finally said.

I watched my dad as he set his phone down, a somewhat upset look on his face. It hit me then, how long it had been since we’d shared a Thanksgiving dinner with anyone besides each other. Not since my mom left. The idea of being around a big family again made my heart ache a little, but it also made me happy thinking about my dad having people around him.

“You know what?” I said, sitting up. “Let’s do it.”

His eyebrows shot up in happiness. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” I nodded firmly, a small smile tugging at my lips. “It’ll be fun. We haven’t done anything like this in forever. And it’s not just for me, it’ll be good for you too.”

He chuckled, a deep, warm sound that made me smile even wider. “Honey, you don’t have to worry about me.”

“I’m not worrying,” I said quickly, shaking my head. “I just… I think we should go. Jimmy’s always been good to you, It’s nice. Feels like the right thing to do.”

He tilted his head, studying me for a moment before giving a slow nod. “Alright then. We’ll go.”

I grinned “You better be ready to charm the room tomorrow. I’m not letting you sit in the corner like an antisocial weirdo.”

He laughed again, his face lighting up in a way I hadn’t seen in a long time. “No promises”

The next morning, the house was filled with a calm buzz of preparation. I stood in front of my small vanity, eyeing the outfit I had carefully picked out the night before. A loose white sweater paired with a tight black skirt that laid neatly on the bed, along with black sheer tights, white socks, and my favorite pair of black Converse. Simple but put together.

I slipped on the skirt, smoothing it down over the tights before tugging the sweater over my head. I grabbed my curling iron and added loose waves to my hair, the curls falling softly over my shoulders. I fluffed them out a bit for volume before stepping back to examine the final result in the mirror.

As I laced up my Converse, my dad knocked lightly on my door and peeked his head in. “You ready, honey?”

“Just about,” I said, standing up and grabbing my phone. “How do I look?”

He gave me a once-over and smiled warmly. “Beautiful. They’ll be lucky to have you there.”

I rolled my eyes playfully but couldn’t hide the grin spreading across my face. “Thanks, Dad. Let’s go before you get sentimental.”

We grabbed our coats and headed out the door, the crisp November air biting at my cheeks as we climbed into the car. I felt a mix of nerves and excitement fluttering in my stomach as we drove to the Sturniolo house.

Once we got to their house my dad knocked on the door. My dad and Jimmy shared a handshake and a chuckle, their longtime bond evident in the way they exchanged knowing looks.

“Y/N, it’s so good to see you,” Jimmy said warmly as he greeted me with a big hug, his presence welcoming. “You’ve grown up so fast, Last time I really saw you was in diapers.” He said.

My dad chuckled and gave me a playful nudge. “It’s true. She’s a little too grown up for my liking.”

Jimmy laughed heartily and patted my dad on the back. “I get it, buddy. But she’s doing well, right?”

“She is,” my dad replied, his voice filled with pride. “She’s been keeping busy with school. It’s nice to finally have some time to relax and visit.”

Mary Lou came over, greeting us both with her characteristic warmth. “Y/N, you look wonderful!,” she said, turning to my father with a smile. “It’s so great to finally see you again!”

“Thank you for having us,” my dad replied, shaking her hand. “It means a lot. Y/N and I could use a good Thanksgiving this year.”

“I’m just happy we could make it happen,” Mary Lou said, beaming. “And we’re glad you could join us.”

As I followed my dad inside, I could see how at ease he was in this familiar environment. It was clear that Jimmy and my dad had a special, long-lasting friendship. They went to school together and worked together right out of graduation.

After some more warm greetings, Jimmy called the boys upstairs. “Boys grab Justin and bring him downstairs. Dinner’s almost ready!”

I caught sight of Justin walking down the stairs, and we exchanged a quick hug. “Long time, no see,” he said with a grin. “How’s school?”

“Busy, but good.” I replied.

We made our way to the dining room, where the table was set beautifully. As we sat down, Matt made his way sitting next to me and nudged me with his shoulder.

“Sorry, Chris and Nick’s idea” he whispered while everyone passed around food.

“Just admit you missed seeing me and couldn't wait till friday” I winked and passed him the rolls.

“You wish, sweetheart” I rolled my eyes at him and turned to listen to everyone's small talk and join in on some conversations.

After dinner, the boys invited me upstairs to hang out for a bit. We all settled into their room, laughing and chatting about everything from school to random things that had happened throughout the week.

“Y/N, you ready to head out?” My dad yelled up the stairs, sounding a little tired but still upbeat.

I stood up, stretching. “Yeah, I’ll be down in a second!” I called back, feeling a little reluctant to leave but knowing I should head home.

As I started to head downstairs, Matt followed me. When we reached the bottom, my dad was waiting in the living room, ready to go.

He smiled at me, his hands in his pockets. “Alright, honey, let’s get going. It’s been a long day.”

Matt, who had been hovering near the doorway, spoke up. “Hey, if you want to stay longer, I can drive her home later,” he said casually, glancing between my dad and me.

I hesitated, looking between the two of them. “Thanks, Matt, but I think I’ll go with my dad tonight,” I said, offering a small smile.

Before I could head for the door, my dad raised a hand. “You know what? Why don’t you stay? I’ll head out. You're young, stay and have fun,” he said, a warm smile on his face. “I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me.”

I glanced back at Matt, who was looking at me with a raised brow. “You sure?” I asked my dad.

“Yeah, absolutely,” my dad assured me. “Have a good time, and I’ll get going. I want you to enjoy yourself.”

I looked at Matt again, and he gave me a reassuring nod. “You don’t have to worry about getting home, Y/N. I’ve got you covered whenever you’re ready to head back,” he said with a small grin.

With a deep breath, I looked at my dad and smiled. “Okay, I’ll stay,” I said, feeling a little bad I wasn't going home with him.

“Sounds good,” my dad said with a chuckle, heading toward the door. “Enjoy yourselves, both of you.”

I gave him a hug and waved him off before turning back to Matt “You want me so bad, its insane”

Matt laughed “You know I do, I'm just waiting on you”

“Maybe you'll get lucky tonight” I winked at him before running past him up the stairs.

Around 10 PM, I finally decided it was time to head home. I had stayed later than I intended, but it had been a good night. I turned to Matt, who was talking to the guys. “I think I’m ready to go now,” I said, slipping my coat on. I gave Nick, Chris and Justin a quick hug.

He looked up and smiled, standing up. “Alright, let’s head out.” We made our way to the door, Matt grabbing his coat, and walked outside to his car.

The drive was easy and relaxed, just the two of us talking about random things. We discussed what we needed for the dorm. It was a comfortable silence in between the chatter.

When we finally pulled up to my house, I turned to Matt and smiled, “Thanks for bringing me home,” I said, feeling a warmth in my chest. “I had a really good time.”

He looked over at me, the car engine still idling, and for a moment, there was a long pause. His eyes met mine, and I could feel the tension building between us. Without really thinking about it, I leaned over and kissed him, my lips pressing against his with a softness that quickly turned into something more.

The kiss deepened as Matt grabbed my face, pulling me closer, and I felt my heart race. When we finally pulled apart, breathless, he leaned back slightly, his eyes dark with something I couldn’t quite place. “I’ve been waiting for you to do that for weeks now,” he murmured, his voice low and full of desire.

I smiled at him, my lips tingling from the kiss. “Well, I guess it’s about time then,” I said softly, running my hand over his cheek.

I paused for a second, feeling a spark of boldness. “You wanna come inside? Maybe stay the night?” I asked, my heart pounding, unsure of what he might say.

Matt hesitated, looking at me for a moment, before his lips curled into a smirk. “Are you sure? You know I’m not gonna leave after that,” he teased,

“Yeah, I’m sure,” I said, my voice quieter now. “I want you to stay.”

He leaned over and kissed me again, this time with even more urgency, and I felt a rush of excitement. “Alright, I’m in,”

We both got out of the car, and I led him inside, “Dad, is it ok if Matt stays the night? We want to just watch a movie and chill in my room?” I asked my dad who was sitting on the couch watching his own movie.

“Sure, Matt. Watch yourself in this house.” I rolled my eyes knowing my dad fully didn't care.

“Of course sir” I grabbed Matt's hand dragging him towards the stairs excited to have him to myself for the night.

Tag -

@namelesssav @christmastreecake

@chrisstopherfilmed @mattsturnii @sturnrc @larnieboox88

@tbfaptbfae @2muchofaslvt @sturnioloshottiekay

@rockstarchr1s @simply-a-simper @realuvrrr @sophia-77n @ch0llies

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