#time for whiskey cocoa

[auteurdelabre]

CODE BROKEN EPILOGUE Joel!Miller x f!Reader

rating: 18+ (youngin's scram!)

tags: established relationship, p in v, dirty talk, romance, LOVE LOVE, soft Joel.

a/n: To @ halseyquinn666 who asked in the A03 comments:

“Would you ever do vignettes for them? This is one of my all time fav stories <3”

Well Halsey, turns out yeah, I would. Let's call it an epilogue.

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CODE BROKEN EPILOGUE

The night is drizzly and quiet. Most folks in Jackson city are in their homes drinking warm cocoa and reading before the fire. Some are playing board games with their families. Others bake bread, their cheeks warmed from the oven. 

But not you and Joel. 

No, the two of you stand shoulder to shoulder outside The Tipsy Bison, protected by the overhang of the roof. 

His large hand holds yours tightly, fingers lacing. He smells like the cologne he uses sparingly and the laundry you brought in from the line that afternoon before the rain began. His shoulders are dotted with a few raindrops, a darker green than the rest of his jacket.

Joel's eyes dip to the color on your lips, lingering on the cohl around your eyes. You dressed up for tonight, wore your nicest dress and did your hair and makeup. You don't normally go to all this effort but tonight felt like you should. 

"Did I tell you how beautiful you look?" Joel rumbles next to you, a soft look in his eyes. 

"Once before you ripped the dress off and took me back to bed," you say with a playful grin. "And twice more after we got re-dressed." 

The last month with Joel has been idyllic. Not one night has been spent without his arms around you. You take turns going from his bed to yours, give and take on the positions you fuck each other in, who makes the coffee.  

Nights are dreamy and spent talking about past life lived, about dreams for the future. Over fingers of whiskey you tell him about your dream of writing a book about the inhabitants of Jackson. Joel doesn't laugh or challenge this. He just nods as if it's a natural conclusion, as if you were always meant to do it and he was always meant to support you in it. 

Joel glances over to see your profile, the concern in your eyes. You feel his gaze and return it with a wobbling smile. 

"Still wanna do this?" 

"Mhm."

It was decided last week that tonight would be when you two made things public.

Official. 

You'd thought you were ready for it, but now looking at the chipped wood door and hearing the low murmur and occasional laughter coming from behind it you tense. 

There are so many people inside. So many faces you know, Mark and Tess and the rest of the usual Friday night crowd. 

The Bison is always busier on dreary nights when many patrons don't feel like returning to their quiet homes. You think that the stillness must still unsettle people who are used to running. 

Perhaps that's what has you stalling. 

Thoughts of all those eyes on you both the second you walk into the bar. The hushed judgments and confused stares. Joel and Tess made sense when they went out. Both hard and abrasive when they needed to be. Both with those steely gazes and infrequent smiles. So opposite to you with your stitched daisy dresses and easy laughter. 

While Joel goes to great lengths to avoid people and connection you seem to welcome it. From the way you greet everyone on your way to breakfasts or how you're so quick to lend a hand to your neighbor. People still come up to commend you on Trish's wedding. 

His palm goes to the back of your head, stroking down your hair and spine. You melt into the contact until he reaches the base of your spine, hand sliding from your body. 

"What're we waitin' on, pretty eyes?" he rumbles, mouth at your temple. 

"Nothing," you answer quickly. 

His large hand finds yours and holds tightly, fingers lacing once more. He pulls you to the side of the bar, giving you a moment to breathe. You feel the rough of his calloused palm as he tugs you under the roof to avoid the light droplets. 

It takes you back to last week in your bed, Joel's hips rocking up into yours, the sound of his gravely groans as his head tilted back in the pillow. 

The headboard smacked into the wall, your hands gripping the wood for support as you rode him furiously. Your bodies were drenched with sweat; it had been a lazy morning of enjoying each other's bodies. 

His calloused hands held your hips in quite the same fashion he holds your hand now, something gentle that borders on possession. 

"So fuckin' beautiful," he groaned, eyes shuttering as he gripped you, watching you bounce on his lap. You moaned, body arching as you chased your high. Your hands were on his chest as you raised and lowered yourself on his length, your skin slapping obscenely in the quiet bedroom.

"Uh huh just like that," Joel crooned as you shattered around him moments later, a small curl of his lips at the sight. "That's my girl." 

You preened at his honeyed voice tinged with grit.

His girl. Joel Miller's girl. 

You loved it. 

Before you could say anything more Joel had gripped the back of your neck and the low of your back, rolling you both over until he was on top of you, his biceps caging you in on either side. 

"Gonna let me give it t'you, pretty eyes?"

You could only moan, nodding as you urged him deeper inside of you. You both groaned lowly at the sensation, even though it was far from the first time you'd done it. His mouth found yours as it always did when you two were in this position. 

There had not been a day since Joel's confession that he hasn't kissed you so soundly your knees went weak. Arms wrapping around your waist from behind as you waited for the coffee to brew, soft mouth at your jaw. Joining you in the shower, mouth damp and searching yours as he fucked you senseless against the tile. The lingering kiss he gives you each night before bed, accompanied by the sweetest sigh. 

Your arms went around his middle, fingers dimpling the flesh of his muscled back as he licked into your mouth, savoring the way your tongues dabbed, the way you let his tongue thrust into your mouth the same way his cock did into your pussy. 

And then he drifted back, starting a slow and measured pace as he braced himself above you. 

"That's my girl," Joel rasped, his dark eyes fixed on your face. Your hands went to his cheek, thumbs on his jaw as you locked eyes. "My sweet fuckin' girl."

"I'm your girl," you assured him, peppering kisses there before giving out a small whimper, hands falling and fisting the sheets as his thumb came to slide along your clit. "Only yours."

Joel's mouth pressed gently to yours, his elbows bracing him up as his fingers smoothed the hair back from your face. 

"Lemme take you out," Joel rasped as he began to fuck you in earnest. "Want everyone to see us so they know you're mine." 

You shouldn't have been so turned on at the possessive nature of what he said, but you were. The thought had thrilled you at the time.

You'd agreed, heart beating as Joel's face broke into an eager smile and his mouth found yours again. 

But now you're here in front of the Bison and all that excited certainty is replaced by something far less appealing. 

"Cold feet?" His voice is concerned. 

"Just taking a moment," you mutter. "Wanna enjoy these last few seconds when it's just us. Before everyone has opinions."

"Fuck their opinions," Joel says. "I don't give a shit about what they think." 

You know he's being sincere. Joel doesn't suffer fools. 

"I only care about what you n' me think about it," Joel assures you. You feel warmth flood your entire body leaving you tingling. 

"And that's why I love you." 

You snap your mouth shut, feeling your eyes blow wide as you realize what you've just said.  Despite your stress about this evening you feel your heart suddenly pick up again at your choice of words.

The topic of love is tiptoed around in your homes. It's felt in every loving action you perform for one another. From the way Joel washes your hair at your request to the way you massage his sore muscles. It's in the way he strokes your cheek when you rest your head in his lap while you read and the way you hold his gaze when you ride him. 

But you've never said it. The words seemed too big, too monumental. 

But now they slipped past your teeth and lips, exposed to the air and the tall man who looks down at you with an amused curl to his lips, seeing the way your cheeks flame and your eyes drop. You feel yourself falter, a strained smile on your face. 

"Sorry," you say in a rush. "I didn't mean-"

His mouth covers yours, pressing a full lipped kiss there and stopping you from saying more. There with the rain pattering down on the tin roof, you cling to Joel as his arms wrap around you, holding you tightly to him. 

You sigh against his mouth, letting his arms wrap around your waist as you fling your arms around his neck. He kisses you unhurried, not caring if patrons are coming or going. All he cares about is the soft sensation of your lips working against his. 

"Nothin' to be sorry about," he murmurs against your temple as he drags his mouth from yours moments later. "Never have to be sorry about that, baby."

You still have a hard time not feeling embarrassed. "It's just I never.... I've never said it to anyone before."

It hangs there between you both, this heavy admission. Joel had a daughter, a life before all of this. He's known love, declared it. But you? It's never felt right until Joel. 

You feel his forefinger brushing your chin, urging your face up. 

"I love you," he tells you plainly, no frills, just truth. "V'loved you for a long while now. Every morning I wake up and you're there I fall in love all over again. I love you so damn much, pretty eyes. I still can't believe you're mine." 

Your eyes are brimming with tears, so much that Joel is now a watercolor blur. Knowing it and hearing it are so different. 

"How long?"

His brows knit together in concern. "How long what?"

"How long have you loved me?"

Now it's Joel's turn to look shy. His boots scrape against the dirt on the ground. You hide a grin as he clears his throat before finally answering. 

"Realized it the day at the bookstore."

The day he chased after you with the copy of Jane Eyre. Many many months before now when you yourself weren't even sure how you felt about him. 

"That's an awfully long time," you tease gently before you wrap your arms around his middle, tucking yourself up under his chin. "Waited a long time to tell me." 

"Didn't want to scare ya," Joel murmurs into the crown of your head as his arms encircle you.  

"You could never." 

You mean it. Joel is your safe harbor, your light in the darkness. Your hands lace around the back of his neck, urging his face to yours. 

You kiss him again, a tender, soft thing before you glance back at the closed door of the Bison and then back at the man who looks at you with stars in his dark eyes. 

"Joel?"

"Yeah, baby?"

"I'm ready." 

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #pedro pascal #joel miller smut #dad joel miller #smut #fanfiction #fanfic #joel miller #dark!joel miller #dark!joel #dark!joel x reader

[morallyinept]

YIPPEE KI-YAY! - A Pre-Outbreak Joel Miller Christmas One Shot

Summary: You, Sarah and Joel settle in to watch a Christmas film together, bickering gently over if Die Hard is classed as a Christmas movie or not. When Sarah goes to bed, you try and sway Joel to your opinion.

Pairing: Pre-Outbreak Joel Miller x GN!Reader (No name or physical description of reader. It’s you, bub.)

Word Count: 3.3K

Scoville Smut Rating: 🌶️🌶️🌶️ "You tell me I'm doing well, and then, you try to kill me."

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here.

Warnings/triggers - Oral M receiving - lucky Joel!

NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ. ☝🏻Don’t come at me; you’ve been plenty warned.

If this story isn't for you, that's fine. Just slip quietly out the back door. No need to make a fuss. It's just a work of fiction.

Author’s Note: Die Hard is absolutely a Christmas film. Come at me. 😎

12 DAYS OF XXX-MAS MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

Enjoy & Happy Holidays! 🎄🖤

“Got the marshmallows?” You query, as Sarah steps forward holding a mug out for you.

“Please.” She throws you a coy look and you smirk. 

You regard her with a smile, standing in the kitchen that’s still so new to you.

Joel’s kitchen, despite the occasional chaos of a single dad and his teenage daughter navigating the same space, emanates a sense of warmth and homeliness and the scents of burnt toast. And is surprisingly clean and well organised. Although, you suspect Sarah is probably responsible for that.

A handwritten 'to-do' list is on the fridge in writing that looks like Sarah’s, with items like 'take out the trash' and 'unload the dishwasher,' reflecting a gentle reminder for both father and daughter to share the responsibilities of maintaining their space.

During the very short time that you’ve gotten to know Sarah, it's evident she takes care of her dad, more than he’d like to admit, but Joel would agree that she’s wiser and mature for her tender years.

Something that you know he wrestles with, pertaining to some slight regret that he has to work so much and leave her to bring herself up on occasion. 

She gathers the bag of marshmallows into her mouth, the plastic creaking between her teeth as it dangles and picks up two mugs.

“Gimme that,” you chuckle, pulling it from her lips as she giggles, and you follow her through into the lounge, elbowing the kitchen light off.

Joel is on his knees in the lounge, pushing the disc into the DVD player, and sits back on his heels as you both come through.

A black t-shirt runs tight over his broad shoulders, and his hair is still a little unkempt from you running your fingers through it whilst he was between your legs, only hours before. 

He takes the mug from Sarah with big hands, with a crooked smile and a thank ya, baby.

The Christmas tree is up, although a little askew, and with lots of colourful string lights knotted around the branches. A handmade, paper angel sits atop the tree; a six year-old Sarah’s creation, that Joel has taken care of and insisted would adorn the tree for the rest of its delicate existence, despite one of the sequined eyes missing now. 

You settle onto the couch with Sarah, a gap left in the middle for Joel, whilst he brings out a bottle of the stronger stuff and proceeds to pour some into yours and his mug. 

“Can I have some of that?” Sarah asks. 

“Absolutely not.” Joel gruffs and doesn’t even look up.

“Come on, man. It’s Christmas.” She says. 

Joel glances up at you bemused, and you shrug. “I’m not being the bad guy.” You say, smirking.

“Please?” Sarah continues. 

He sighs, caving. “If ya get sick, ya cleaning it up yourself.” He warns and proceeds to pour a little glug of the whiskey into Sarah’s mug.

She smiles accomplished, settling back into the couch, sniffing the infusion of dark, heady notes mixing with the cocoa.

You plop a couple of marshmallows into your mug from the bag, and Joel finally sits in between you both and clicks the menu button on the remote. 

“Die hard?” You ask, scoffing as the opening credits roll across the screen. “You had one task, Joel.”

“Ultimate Christmas movie, darlin’.” Joel announces proudly. He waggles his eyebrows at you, but you’re not buying it.

“Just be grateful it isn’t Curtis and The Viper, that’s Dad’s favourite.” Sarah says. “I’ve seen it far too much.”

“I got that for after,” Joel chuckles, evilly. 

“This is not a Christmas film.” You pout.

“Is too.” Joel says. 

“Home Alone? Christmas movie. It's a Wonderful Life? Christmas movie. Die Hard? It's an action classic with a festive backdrop at best.” You say.

Sarah, with a mock serious expression, points at the TV. "You know, the only thing missing from this Christmas masterpiece is a cameo from Santa himself."

Joel smirks. "Ya mean the gritty, action-hero version of Santa who delivers presents via rooftop jumps n’ takes out Hans Gruber?"

Sarah laughs. "Exactly! Badass Santa."

Joel leans into her shoulder, his eyes gleaming. "Santa in a red camo suit, armed with candy cane nun-chucks, fightin' off the Grinch n’ his gang of holiday heisters."

Sarah shakes her head, trying not to let a smile break through. "You're turning Christmas into a comic book. Die Hard is not the graphic novel we need for the holiday season."

“Please don’t encourage him.” You whine. 

"It’s the one we deserve," Joel declares with a theatrical flair.

You sigh dramatically. "You're impossible. I bet you think fruitcake is a gourmet holiday treat too."

Joel and Sarah both gasp in mock horror. "Fruitcake slander!” Sarah says.

“Now that's a crime worse than anything in Die Hard. Ya've crossed a line, darlin’."

Sarah can’t help but giggle. “Dad loves fruitcake.”

“Your dad is a fruitcake.” You clarify with a grin.

“Ya hearin’ this?” Joel says incredulously to Sarah, shaking his head as he sups from his mug.

"I'm just saying, there are certain standards for Christmas entertainment. Die Hard doesn't quite fit the mustard." You say, slurping from your own mug too. 

Joel leans back, a mischievous glint in his chocolate eyes. "Standards? S’all about breakin’ traditions. Die Hard is the rebel of Christmas movies n’ shit."

“Nope. Not a Christmas film.” You declare.

“S’a good job ya pretty.” Joel says, leaning in to place a kiss on you, then pecks you ferociously.

“Gross.” Sarah winces, as you push Joel off of you, mindful of spilling your hot chocolate.

“Yippee Ki-Yay, baby!” Joel teases her.

“Gross? Sounds like jealousy to me!” Joel leans across her and pelts her face with kisses as she wails, almost spilling her own mug over the carpet too.

"Dad!”

You grin. "You're turning into a Die Hard evangelist. If I had known this before, I might not have given you my number that night in the bar.”

Joel turns to you. “Too late now. Ya stuck with me.”

You smile at him, feeling warm as he looks at you, smiling back with dilating pupils. Perhaps it’s the whiskey or perhaps it's something else.

Perhaps it’s the continued insatiable appetite you have for him, and have had since you both met. 

Joel and your serendipitous meeting at a dimly lit bar a few weeks back set the stage for a blossoming, hot romance that neither of you saw coming. It was a Friday night, and the air was filled with the lively hum of laughter and the clinking of glasses in a festive atmosphere.

Joel, nursing a whiskey at the bar after a long, tiring day on the site, couldn't help but notice you sitting alone at a corner table, engrossed in a book, but slowly peeping at him over the top of the pages and smiling. 

Joel decided to take a chance, spurred on by past conversations with Sarah about how he should date and put himself out there more. With a bewitching smile, he approached your table and struck up a conversation about the book you were immersed in.

As it turned out, Joel wasn’t much of a reader, but you could forgive him with his soft, brown eyes and broad shoulders that hunched up when he laughed genuinely at your jokes.

What started as a casual, flirty chat quickly evolved into a deeper connection as you discovered attractions and common interests, when you came up for air from under the sheets.

Although, not about Christmas movies, evidently.

“I'm waiting for you to start handing out pamphlets door to door that say, 'have you accepted our Lord and Saviour, John McClane into your life?'" You titter.

Joel laughs. "If John McClane knocked on my door, I'd invite him in for Christmas dinner n’ put you two out.”

Sarah points at the screen. "See, explosions and chaos.”

“That's not exactly what I call a festive holiday atmosphere." You say. 

“Ya two are crazy. Come on, it's action-packed holiday fun! What more could ya want?"

Sarah leans back, crossing her arms. "I don't know, maybe a heartwarming message about the true meaning of Christmas? Where's the cheese factor?"

Joel smirks. "Who needs cheese when ya have 'Yippee-ki-yay?' Classic Christmas catchphrase right there."

“I like cheese.” You pout. 

Sarah rolls her eyes. "Classic action movie catchphrase, maybe. I don't see Hallmark putting that on a Christmas card."

Joel raises an eyebrow. "Hallmark wishes they had a fuckin’ hero like John McClane in their lineup. Now, that's a Christmas card I’d buy."

“You’ve never brought a Christmas card in your life, dad.” Sarah smirks.

“Damn waste of money. Ya gonna throw it in the bin anyhow.” He shrugs.

You smile, reaching for the whiskey and Joel holds his mug out towards you for a top up. "You're missing the point. Christmas movies are about love, family, and maybe a little bit of magic. Die Hard has, what, explosions and a bald guy in a dirty tank top?" 

Joel puts his finger on the neck of the bottle so you pour more into his mug. At this point it’s neat whiskey flavoured with cocoa.

“He’s kind of hot though. Bruce Willis.” You say.

“See, ya do like it.” Joel grins. “I win.”

“He is hot.” Sarah agrees. 

“Ya too young to notice that he’s hot.” Joel retorts.

“I’m fourteen, dad. I have periods now.”

“Mhm. Less I know ‘bout that the better, thank ya.”

“Yikes.” You chime in, grinning.

"Don't forget the Santa hat. That's festive." Joel says, pointing at the screen a little while later.

Sarah scoffs. "A Santa hat doesn't magically transform a movie into a Christmas classic. It's like putting tinsel on a cactus and calling it a Christmas tree."

Joel laughs. "Hey, a cactus with tinsel sounds pretty festive to me.”

“Why can I imagine you doing this?” You query to Joel.

“He did. Last year.” Sarah confirms and you snort.

“I might've forgotten to get a Christmas tree.” Joel holds his hands up, grunting.

“How do you forget to get a Christmas tree?”

“I was working.” “He was working.” Joel and Sarah both say at the same time.  

“Die Hard is the cactus of Christmas movies - prickly on the outside, but there's a nice holiday surprise waitin'." Joel says. 

“You have an answer for everything.” You snicker.

“Well, that's why ya like me…” Joel says, leaning in to kiss your cheek. 

“Maybe,” you smile back at him, meeting his lips. He kisses you a little deeper, tasting the warmth of the whiskey on his tongue. 

“Stop it.” Sarah says, and you both chuckle. 

You feel Joel’s fingers interlock with yours and give them a gentle squeeze. 

Later, you turn to see Sarah with her head back, eyes closed and mouth open.

You nudge Joel, rousing him from the film, and he smirks, shaking his head.

“C’mere,” he says, opening his arm out, and you nestle inside it, head pressed against his chest as you watch the movie. 

“Lightweight.” He snorts and you smile.

He takes Sarah’s mug from her lap and places it on the coffee table. As he sits back, he turns to you. 

You feel him kiss the top of your head, and your fingers skim the hem of his t-shirt and stroke softly at the skin under there. You can feel the galaxy of soft hairs around his belly button and he hums out contentedly and you scritch softly there. 

"Y’know, watching Die Hard with ya… maybe we should make it a yearly tradition?" He murmurs.

“Oh really?” You tease looking up at him.

Joel leans in a bit closer, lowering his voice. "Who needs mistletoe when ya have John McClane savin’ Christmas? Though, I wouldn't mind a little mistletoe action right now..."

“Mm,” you crane up, pressing your lips to his as he slips his tongue in your mouth.

"Smooth, McClane. Very smooth." Sarah chuckles, a grin spreading across her cheeks.

Joel stops kissing you and smirks. “Get ya drunk ass to bed.” 

“I’m not drunk, but I'd rather be throwing up in the toilet than watching you two suck face.”

Sarah stands as you giggle.

“Hey, gimme some sugar.” Joel calls back to her. 

She turns and leans down to give Joel a kiss as he pats her on the back. “Night, baby.”

She then comes over to you and gives you a cuddle and a peck on the side of the cheek.

“Night, sweetie.” You say with a bright smile.

As Sarah hugs you goodnight, the scent of her coconut shampoo filling your nose, you can't help but be taken aback by the authenticity of the gesture.

It’s as if that bridge of trepidation and angst of Sarah accepting you has been cemented with shared laughter, keen interest, and now, a simple, yet genuine hug. 

Joel catches you smiling as Sarah leaves the room, her footsteps echoing up the stairs.

“Ya wanna stay again tonight?” Joel asks.

“If you’re sure?” You ask.

He nods. “She likes ya. S’fine.” 

“I really like her too.” You say. “She’s a good kid. You’ve done great with her.”

“She’s a smartass.” He retorts. 

“Just like her dad, then.” You cluck. 

“Easy,” Joel holds his arm out and you nestle back into it, putting your feet up. 

A little while later and the film comes to an end. And you can’t help but smile when Joel asks you your thoughts.

"Fine, maybe Die Hard has its own twisted Christmas charm. But don't expect me to wrap it up and put it under the tree." You titter.

Joel chuckles. "Who needs gift wrap when ya've got a Nakatomi Plaza-sized bow on top?”

“Mm, it's the gift that keeps on giving." You mirth. 

Joel shakes his head, as he leans in for a kiss. “No. You are.” 

“Mr Miller, are you getting soft on me?” You giggle as he smooches at you.

“Quite the opposite, darlin’…” He takes your hand resting on his chest and slides it down to the hardening bulge in his jeans. 

“Mmm,” you remark, giving him a gentle squeeze. “Now, how has this occurred? You got a thing for me or John McClane?”

“Both.” Joel smirks and you chuckle. 

“You and John want the room?”

“I’ve had too much whiskey. I can’t be held responsible for what I say or do right now.” 

He leans in and kisses you again. His lips are full and plumpy and they devour you greedily as his tongue searches his way around your mouth; caressing and creating sparks down your spine.

“I think I know what I wanna do right now,” you whisper to him.

You can taste the tang of the whiskey, the sweetness of the cocoa; feel the warmth emanating from him into your bloodstream.

Hear the small clicking sounds as you both osculate intensely. Savouring the taste of him, the smell of him this close and the sheer bliss of his tongue working up that dark voodoo magic. 

“What’s that, darlin’?” Joel asks, with hooded eyes. 

You wiggle out of his giant hands and drop to your knees in between his. You tug his jeans down, clumsily, but fast as he pops open the button, eager for what’s to come.

“Well, alright then!” He gasps. 

He cups his cock on the outside of his boxers adjusting it, and you run your hands up his legs towards the goods.

Slipping your fingers inside the waistband, you pull them down too as he lifts his ass off the couch for a second so you can fully yank them down those long legs smattered with dark hairs.

Joel’s presented to you again in all his hard, thick glory. Glistening in the light as you watch him thumb over the head, collecting the glossy precum, before he holds it out to you.

He bites his lip as you suck his thumb into your mouth, tasting him.

Eyeing him, you insert him slowly inside of your mouth; him watching with widening and drooping lips as you go further and further to the base; swallowing him whole, the tip of his rounded head on the back of your gag reflex, but not heaving at all.

You sit up on your knees and take the base of him inside your hand, excitable and hard.

You pull him back out and do it again, over and over, taking him deep and slow.

“Fuck…” Joel groans delightfully, his hand stroking through your hair gently. “Ya so fuckin’ good at that. Oh, Jesus..."

You let his cock slide out of you one last time before you lower your head and take one of his balls inside your mouth. Pushing his legs wider open so you can shove your face right up in there.

You look up as he reacts instantly; almost pulling away with the mildly discomforting, yet pleasurable feeling that overtakes, as you suck gently on those puffy, pink sacks.

“Aww, shit, that’s good,” Joel whines, throwing his head back.

Whilst you suck, you massage his cock up and down with your hand; still sticky and wet from your saliva. Running your palm over the bulbous head making his hips judder and buck.

Joel sits up a little, watching you suck; the graze of his voice doing a punch out with his larynx as he struggles to speak.

“Suck it again. Show me what that pretty mouth can do, hmm?” Joel prompts.

He watches you tease the tip with your tongue before sucking him back in between your lips.

“Fuck, darlin’.” He drones, his head lolling back and closing his eyes as you suck hard on the head of him, stripping him of his breath.

You take him down deeper, something that surprises you both at the depth; sucking him like a pro and it pleases him immensely. He presses down on the back of your head testing your gag reflex and he feels you heave which makes his balls spasm.

“Tap out if ya wanna stop, okay?” He says, and you stroke his thigh in agreement.

You swallow him deeper, sliding all the way down his wet, sticky length and pushing your nose into the soft paunch of his tummy.

“Yeah, choke on my cock.” Joel encourages as you drool over it.

You heave momentarily, but still as you swallow around him. You do it again, and another heave makes you lurch a little.

You relax the back of your throat, letting him slide in all the way again. He’s impressed, not many can take him so deep down their throats, his girth is intimidating to say the least. 

The husk of his grunts, like whispers pelted in wet gravel, echo inside your ears. Joel has no words; instead, the noises that are puffing out of him make you tingle all over.

His huge hands massage inside of your hair and soon you feel him fucking up into your face, pushing you deeper onto him as he thrusts his hips, forcing himself further down your throat.

"Tap out if ya want me to stop... Oh, fuck," he reminds you gently.

More heaves roll up from your stomach, inhaling deeper through your nose that it whistles somewhat, and he pants, bucking into your face as he fucks harder now.

Gug-gug-gug... an unrelenting rhythm of sticky, suction, and satisfied grunts flow from his mouth around the lounge.

“Fuck, yeah!” He growls as you open wider as he hits the back of your throat, punching the wet flesh there as you dig into his thigh skin with your nails.

“Fuck! Fuck!” He hisses. “Shit, I’m gonna come!” Joel hisses, filling your throat momentarily, some of it spilling out of your mouth and down your chin.

You scoop it up and suck it back into your mouth, swallowing it all down. 

“Now, where did ya learn to suck cock like that, hmm?” Joel pants, beside himself.

“We’re all full of surprises,” you remark, smirking.

He chuckles, a wheeze in the back of his throat that's now dry and raw.

“C’mere,” he pulls you up gently to him, with a soft chuckle.

You nestle into his lap as he grips you tightly and close to him, kissing you.

“Fuck, I’m still shakin’,” he groans as you smirk at him. “Ya kill me, darlin’. What’d I do to deserve that?” 

“Early Christmas present.” You shrug with a wink. 

“M’a lucky son of a bitch.” He groans.

“Yes, you are,” you giggle as you kiss him. 

“Gimme a few minutes n’ I’ll give ya yours.” Joel says, with twinkly eyes, his hands grabbing your ass as he pulls you closer still. 

“Yippee Ki-Yay, motherfucker,” you say, as Joel grins wildly at you.

12 DAYS OF XXX-MAS MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

#joel miller x reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller tlou #pedro pascal characters #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller x gn!reader #joel miller the last of us #the last of us fic #christmas stories #jett's writing

[enchantedorchard]

#critical role #essek thelyss #essek #shadowgast #mighty nein #q

[hallasimss]

Niamh Ó Dálaigh (they/them, 26), Head of the Internal Audit Department for @kashisun's Simblr Office. their resting bitch face is to scare your ass so you don't commit fraud under their watch tyvm

— half Afro-Indo-Guyanese (mother) half Irish (father) — grew up just outside of Dublin. the accent is thick — Hozier's album dropped on Friday and they've already booked an appointment with their tattoo artist to get the Gaeilge verse from De Selby (Part 1) printed on their shoulderblade — is fluent and will curse you out in Gaeilge, English, Guyanese Creole and Aili Gaili if you provoke them. do not provoke them — the next time someone mispronounces their first name as 'nee-AHM' instead of 'NEEV' despite having been corrected beforehand they're going to commit acts of unspeakable violence. lack of Anglicization is not an excuse break free from the colonizer mindset — calling them 'Ni/Nee' for short is a criminal offense and also grounds for acts of unspeakable violence — studied business and accounting in university. almost chose law but decided against it at the last minute — plays cláirseach and steel pan in their free time. watches @rainymoodlet's Kiss Me in Komorebi religiously on the weekends. have placed bets on the contestants. they won't say which ones — once sang the entirety of Humors of Whiskey + The Rattling Bog at double speed while drunk. that was also part of a bet — best friends with @browntrait's Jesminder Bheeda. has a chapter in her upcoming cookbook dedicated to them. cameos on the blog sometimes. helped name the baby but if you ask for details before they're actually born it's an automatic audit for the nerve alone — 6'4", mainly leg, still wears heels most days. doors in the building were previously adjusted for @crsentfairy's Aesir Dhillon so it's a walk in the park where height's concerned — yes they have a boyfriend, apologies to those asking. yes there is a rumor that their ex also works at the company. yes said ex does not come within a 5 floor radius otherwise HR will be hearing the complaints — why would you drink coffee when cocoa tea Irish breakfast tea and strong masala chai exist. not necessarily in that order per say but. that being said if there is none available they're taking the coffee black no sweetener. the only time you use sweetener is in caife Gaelach anywhere else you're a f*cking coward — broke a man's nose outside a pub after he catcalled them. he didn't sue bc they threatened to break his nose again after surgery if he tried. the surgery cost a pretty penny btw — you hear any noise from their office that's just them playing the Ram-Leela soundtrack on loop since it came back to Spotify after how many godforsaken years. you hear any noise in between that then those are the ads. they don't pay for Premium that's a corporate scam — leaves work on time if there are no ongoing audits. they do not subscribe to the culture of the Grind — they're the one who passed on the budget discrepancies under @vhsmage's Hamda Farrah to the higher-ups. final report came with a note to add her perfume as a separate category by itself. as far as company gossip goes there hasn't been a problem in that regard since — goes down to Guyana at least once a year to visit with extended family. usually times it around Carnival, Holi or Diwali. will take PTO for all three. do not attempt to contact them once it is turned in, that will gain you an automatic audit on their return

#* mine. #* melanin. #* niamh. #( * tso. ) #hallasimss #my sims #the simblr office #ts4 #the sims 4 #ts4 alpha #ts4 sims #black simmer #black simblr #simblr #ts4 edit #sims 4 edit #ts4 townie makeover #ts4 portrait #sims 4 portrait #ts4 cas #ts4 create a sim #ts4 lookbook #alpha cc #( * most of this post is just my Irish ancestors tapping on my shoulder and saying hi. so hi ig #| there's so much more i could have said. like how Come Out Ye Black and Tans is Niamh's permanent drinking song staple #| or how they have two middle names and their boyfriend only knows one of them. he'll get the other once he buys that ring #| you see any more content for them from me know it's Marine's fault. she did this #| no cc details this time bc this sh*t has gotten long enough but send me an ask for anything specific and i'll see if i can find it #| to help y'all out if you prefer to not send an ask it's a f*ckton of pralinesims content. do with that information what you will. #| anyway i'm shoving this into your hands and running away so pls don't let this flop asfjnbsfcqbdwdnskh )

[jeonstellate]

spaces between us

you never want to cross paths with seungcheol again but, as it seems, the universe has other plans.

๑彡 choi seungcheol x afab!reader

๑彡 secret baby!au, post-break up!au — angst

๑彡 paragraph format — 1K words

masterlist

[gif’s full credit belongs solely to its owner]

๑彡 title is taken from one direction’s spaces (whose lyrics fit the ‘past’ that led to this story, albeit it was not explicitly told here).

๑彡 this is quite impulsive, actually. i was reading through my old fics in my drive a couple days ago && thought i can tweak this one a bit to change the ml . . .

You were surrounded by an enormous amount of cuddly plushies and breakable action figures. Everywhere you looked, your eyes would land on a face you grew up watching. Every single character played an important role in your childhood, whether you admired them or not. As far as your younger self was concerned, you were in heaven.

But then . . . you weren’t.

In the flood came — strong, unwavering, and without any warning.

All you could see was smoky quartz. Dark and light all at once. Akin to whiskey and honey whenever there was an eternal sun shining upon them, addicting and melting you right in. You could hardly believe that there was a time when they were utterly comforting to you, instead of just reminding you of a seemingly endless pain.

You had always appreciated the color brown. It was the color of soil — where life always had a chance to begin. It was the color of cocoa, too — a main ingredient in making the world sweeter. For you specifically, it symbolized a never-ending list of possibilities and opportunities.

Then, there came a time when the color itself signified something else entirely. It promised a happily ever after you never purposely sought, but was granted by the heavens anyway. It promised to cherish and to love you always. It promised you forever, lasting until the end of time. With the hopeless romantic ideologies that surrounded you as you grow, you willingly believed in those promises.

Yet, apparently, forever only last for seven years.

Brown, as rich and magical as it would remain, had its enchantments fade. Promises were broken. Smiles were rare and deceptive. A home gradually turned into a mere flat. A shadow eventually turned into a ghost. Life, once full of animation, had become utterly silent and still. From that moment on, dark crystals signified neglect, abandonment, and . . . regret.

You did not think you would be able to forgive those morions, much less forget. Yet, with time, they began to symbolize hope; a new beginning.

You never meant for it to. But these new dark crystals were so pure . . . so innocent . . . and so full of life. They were everything you thought it would be, if that shade was given humane features. Rather instinctively, just as soon as you caught a glimpse of them for the very first time, you knew you must protect those gorgeous hues from any evil — and so you tried your best.

Despite being an exact replica of the former, you instantly loved the new smoky quartz with all your heart — even more than your own life.

Once the flood had calmed, you found yourself in a situation that you had been dreading for the past few years. You did not expect the inevitable encounter for at least several more years, thus not even the comfort of childhood assisted in composing your racing heart.

"Seungjae." You found it quite difficult to act indifferent around a presence you used to know so well. "Why don’t you explore the princesses’ section? Your Uncle Jonghyeon told me Sarang likes Mulan." It was not like you could blatantly ignore him, either. All you could do was get Seungjae as far away as possible in case a confrontation spark ablaze.

"Okay!" Seungjae was enthusiastic as always, just like any other toddler who never seemed to run out energy. They turned to the man next to them, an appreciative smile on their face, "Bye-bye now, Mr. Seungcheol, thank you!" They then turned back to you, holding out their hand, "Let’s go?"

"I’ll follow you in a minute, love, okay?"

"Okay!" Seungjae remained oblivious on the thickening tension between the two adults. They walked away while dragging a plushie behind them by the ear — somewhat ecstatic to leave and explore on their own.

By the time the toddler was out of earshot, but still within your watchful eyes, you had finally settled on the best way to approach your current situation. "Thank you for helping Seungjae reach that plushie. Heaven knows what stunt they would’ve pulled just to reach it."

"[Nickname]," Seungcheol dismissed your gratitude, almost out of breath, "it’s been four years."

You did not quite appreciate how he easily dismissed your effort to keep your conversation civil, so you decided to quickly put him in his place. "Call me [First name], you lost the right to call me that when we—" You suddenly stopped yourself, realizing that it might catalyze something you were not mentally ready for. So, instead, you opted to redirect your chat in a more civil route, "How’s life treating you, Seungcheol?"

"How old are they?" Once again, he flat-out ignored you. As it seemed, while you were determined not to discuss what happened four years prior, that was the only topic he was interested in. "How— how old is Seungjae?"

You were left with no choice. If you answered, he would know, naturally. If you did not answer, he would still know, anyway. "They’re turning three this summer."

As confident his stance might have been, you watched it crumble in a millisecond after reality hit him with full force. "You should’ve— I should’ve—" When he regained enough of his senses, he seemed to realize that it was not a conversation you should be having in a children’s store. "We should probably talk elsewhere."

However stunned you were in seeing him so broken (something you had not witness in your seven years together), you were quick to dismiss him. "There’s nothing to talk about."

"[Nickname]—" Seungcheol instinctively grabbed onto your wrist when you began to walk away, but quickly dropped his hold when he realized that he might have crossed the line. "[First name]. Please."

You sighed. You did not plan on letting him off the hook easily (not that you thought of anything beforehand, anyway), but the fact that he did not even question the truthfulness of your words — like he still trusted you with all his heart . . . like he just knew that Seungjae could only be half of him — made you second guess your initial decisions.

Maybe . . . just maybe . . . you would spare him from knowing your main reason for departing without a goodbye.

"I already forgave you."

#choi seungcheol x reader #scoups x reader #seventeen x reader #choi seungcheol imagines #scoups imagines #seventeen imagines #choi seungcheol scenarios #scoups scenarios #seventeen scenarios #choi seungcheol oneshots #scoups oneshots #seventeen oneshots #secret baby!au #post-break up!au #choi seungcheol #scoups #seventeen

[chouxsardine]

Ticked (all my boxes) — Jake Kiszka x reader

Summary: It's December 24th, but you've still got so much to do. --A look into y/n's Christmas Eve with Jake in the form of a to-do list

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x reader

Word Count: 5655

Warnings: not much, mentions of alcohol, nearly 6k of PURE FLUFF

Genre: holiday fic, tooth-rotting fluff

Tips: Some may prefer an uninterrupted reading experience, but I have linked some visual cues to the specific items mentioned in the fic so you can better visualize them. You can click when you see an underlined word. Please suit yourself :)

Author's note: This is my GVF Secret Santa gift for @nina-23-45 (if you are Nina, please click here for A Letter from Santa; Sorry for the wait!!). This is the longest fic I've written. As challenging as it is, I honestly had so much fun writing it, it has certainly helped me find the joy of writing again, and I wish to share it with all of you. I hope you are staying cozy, happy, and healthy. Happy holidays. This is a long one, so grab your hot cocoa, make yourself comfy, snuggle with your pets, put on some of your favourite holiday tunes, and...enjoy!!

🎧: everyone has their own favourite Christmas songs, so take your pick! But I do recommend listen to Cause We've ended as Lovers by Jeff Beck when you have time

7:00 AM You crack open an eye. The red digital numbers on the bedside clock becomes clearer in your vision. You try to move and feel Jake’s arm wrapped protectively around your midsection. You turn your head slightly, and there is your lover: his hair covering half of his face, breathing long and even, soundly asleep like some royal prince from a medieval oil painting, although you know he’d probably prefer to look like a pirate with a pipe hanging out of his mouth, if he had the choice. The thought of that brings a smile to your face. You manage to escape from Jake’s hug without waking him up, moving one frame at a time like a character in a slowed-down stop motion film. Jake lets out a grunt as you finally climb out of bed. You hold your breath nervously, but he doesn’t stir, just rubs his cheek further into the pillow. You place a feathery kiss on his temple and tiptoe downstairs.

You were never a morning person, but tomorrow is Christmas and you know it is going to be a long day of preparation. You put the kettle on, taking out two mugs from the cupboard, and find yourself staring eye to eye with Blackbeard. That’s the mug you got for Jake when you started living together. He has been using it ever since. He even drinks whiskey out of it. (“No one drinks whiskey out of a mug, Jake.” “I’m the Captain, I make ship happens if I want to!” refutes Jake in his Oliver Reed voice)

The whistling kettle pulls back your attention. You pour the boiling water over the tea bags. The living room is dimly lit. A certain kind of dimness mixed with a humidity that is unique to winter days. You peak through the blinds, the snow has stopped; everything is covered in white.

You stand in front of the open fridge as a pair of arms snake around your waist, following by Jake’s chin resting on your shoulder.

“Morning, beautiful.”

“Hmm, it’s still very early. Did I wake you up?” You reach your hand back to ruffle up his hair.

“Nope, the bed is just cold without you.”

“What do you want for breakfast, anything that caught your eye?” Holding the fridge door open without taking further action is your guilty pleasure; you feel like an old Duchess inspecting her prized jewelry collection.

“Dunno. Omelet?” You’re not even sure if Jake’s eyes are open from how sleepy his voice sounds.

“Sure, but only if you are making it. I can never get them to the right texture and it pisses me off!” You scold dramatically as you retrieve the eggs.

“Uh-uh, can’t have a pissed-off y/n for Christmas,” Jake takes over the carton, “but I do know she makes some killer sausage patties.”

Lord, this man knows how to hype you up, even when it’s the simplest task of throwing some pre-cooked frozen meat into the oven.

Fifteen minutes later, the two of you are sitting at the table. You sink your fork into a piece of omelet. Upon tasting it, your eyes light up immediately. The outside maintains its shape with lightly crispy edges while the inside melts away in a creamy concoction.

“Jake, this tastes like liquid sun!” You compliment in awe.

Jake snorts out a chuckle at your analogy, trying to wave it off, despite the fact that he is obviously flustered. As the good girlfriend that you are, of course you won’t let go of the chance to tease him. So you wave you fork like a baton and hum your improvised tune: “Jakey boy did it again, oh he done did it again!”

This time Jake is full-on laughing. “Come on, y/n. It’s just an omelet.”

“How dare you?” You gasp, pretending to be offended. “This is not JUST an omelet, this omelet has…” you lower your voice and flutter your fingers around the food, “rock star magic in it!”

What a nice way to start off the day, you think as you chew on another forkful of egg, certainly worth sacrificing some sleep.

✅ A nice morning with a full belly.

10:00 AM You push and the wooden door opens with a jingle and a creak. You hurry inside and are wrapped in a warm embrace of the musty smell of paper and expired mothballs. The ruddy-cheeked old man behind the counter looks up from the tome in front of him and greets you warmly: “Good morning, dear.”

“Morning, Mr. Friesen.” You hold your freezing fingers near the wood stove that stands in the centre of the room. “It’s so cold out there today.”

“On the brighter side, we get a white Christmas, ain’t so lucky last year.”

Friesen’s is your favourite second-hand book store around town. You have been a regular since freshman year in college, and you have lost count of how much money you saved by relying on the old textbooks you found here. Naturally, you have acquainted yourself with its friendly and mysterious owner. Mr. Friesen is quite the myth and legend himself. From his conversation with customers that you’ve accidentally eavesdropped over the years, you pieced together that he used to be the frontman of a rock band in the 70s before one of his bandmates sadly passed away in an accident. He opened the bookshop as an extension of his basement collection thirty years ago.

“I have the books here for you. They are still in decent condition, a rare find these days. Whoever’s getting them must be lucky.”

One good thing about the Friesen’s is that if there’s something specific you’re looking for, you can always request it. There’s no guarantee, but Mr. Friesen will try his best; and this man never disappoints. A few weeks ago, you asked him to keep an eye out for any American classics: Hemingway, Fitzgerald and the like, planning to give them to Josh as his Christmas present. You were losing hope until you received a last-minute call from the bookshop, telling you that a rare first edition of John Steinbeck’s Cannery Row is ready for you to pickup.

“I honestly can’t thank you enough. You’re such a gem,” you smile. “And I have a little Christmas present for you as well.” You pull out a wrapped vinyl from your tote bag.

“Oh you don’t have to do that, my dear,” Mr. Friesen peels back the wrapping paper. “Oh! Phil Sector’s Christmas Album, I don’t have this one yet. What a nice addition to my collection. Thank you, y/n.”

“You’re welcome, Mr. Friesen. It’s the least I can do. You’ve always been so kind to me.”

The old man hums before looking up at you somewhat smugly. “Now, excuse me for being nosy, but how’s it going with that rock star boyfriends of yours?”

Despite being together for so long and being open about your relationship, you still blush when people mention Jake as your boyfriend in public. You have brought Jake to the bookstore before, while things between you were still platonic. If Mr. Friesen sensed anything then, he never let it show.

Taking in your expression, Mr. Friesen beams meaningfully, “Well, I think he’s a lucky guy. You can always tell from a person’s appearance when they’re with the right one, and I can see it in you. I’ll say he’s a keeper, that kid.”

“That’s such a nice thing for you to say,” you reply shyly.

“Well, I shouldn’t be keeping you any longer. It seems like someone is already waiting,” Mrs. Friesen motions outside the window. You follow his gaze and see Jake standing across the street.

“Merry Christmas, Mr. Friesen. Thank you again.”

“Anytime, kiddo. Merry Christmas.”

Outside the bookshop, Jake is kicking a chunk of ice between his feet while he waits for you.

“Do You have everything you need?” You ask.

“Yes. Do you?” he holds out his elbow and you happily hook your arm through it.

“Yup.” You show him the book wrapped in brown paper.

“Huh,” He huffs in a playfully offended voice, “someone’s got the good stuff this year.”

You slight elbow him in the ribs. “Hoy, you green-eyed monster, that’s because Josh’s on the good list this year.”

“Oh, is that so? How did I make it onto the naughty list then?”

“The possibilities are endless!” You exaggerate, holding out your hands to count, “first, for being the sexy little swine that you are…”

You and Jake could probably go on like this forever if weren’t for the fact that you’re arriving at your destination. To finish some last minute Christmas shopping is the only reason that you are outside on such a cold day. You and Jake have decided to “divide and conquer”, with you going to the bookshop to pick up Josh’s gift and Jake going to the liquor store to for some nice Prosecco for the family gathering tomorrow. Then, you will go to the mall together to pick up the present for your cousin.

Rewind to about an hour ago:

As much as your cousin is a sweetheart, it is a real pain to buy Christmas presents for her. And as the procrastinator that you are, of course, you put it off until the last minute to make decisions. Last but not the least, you comfort yourself. Now the time has come for you to have a taste of your own medicine. You were unconsciously tugging your hair as you stared at the coffee table, furrowing your eyebrows deep in concentration.

“Why do you look worried?” Jake plopped down onto the couch next to you.

“I still haven’t got a present for my cousin.” You rubbed your temple and groaned. “I feel like she’s got everything. Everyone always says, ‘oh it’s not about the gift’, but I couldn’t go to her empty handed! I mean, it’s Christmas, people are expecting gifts anyways.”

“Actually, if you don’t mind, I think I have an idea.” Jake reached for his phone and you perked up.

“I saw this the other day, do you think it will suit her?” Jake showed you a picture of what happens to be a magnetic key holder. “Ronnie has mentioned it before, and I saw it at the mall the other day. Didn’t you tell me that your cousin just got her own place earlier this month? It could be a nice housewarming slash Christmas gift.”

“No, you didn’t! ” You almost jolted up from the sofa. “Aww, thank you, Jake! you don’t have to do that!”

“That’s okay, love, anything that takes worries away from my girl.” He beams back at you. “Now we just need to go to the store to pick it up.”

You have always known Jake for being the most caring and attentive lover. But this is on a whole another level. The fact that he even keeps the most mundane trifles you blurt out in mind shows how much he cares. You have already been deeply incorporated into his life, his every decisions now will always include the factor of “you”. The thought makes your heart melt.

Therefore, here you are now, standing in front of the mall entrance.

Although Jake has made your task a thousand times easier, you still hated going into the mall. The crowd, the music, all the right ingredients for sensory overload.

“Last-minute Christmas shopping, yeah?”

“Okay, deep breath,” Jake holds both of your hands in his, eyes shining with encouragement. “I know the exact shelf it’s on. We’ll go in and out, quick as a bunny, a Christmas Bunny, alright?”

“Yeah, okay, we can do this.” You nod.

“One, two, three….go!”

And like Mario Karts you two set off.

You are sure there are people passing by watching you two adults giggling and pushing through the revolving doors like you are lunatics, but you don’t give a hoot. You love embracing your inner child from time to time, and you just happen to be so lucky to have the right person who makes you feel at ease doing so.

✅ Drop off vinyl and pick up the book for Josh at Friesen’s Christmas present for (your cousin’s name)

2:15 PM The film is still playing in the background, you must’ve fallen asleep. See, you just know that waking up too early isn’t for you.

You feel exhausted after your gift-hunting excursion, so you decide to watch a film together while snacking on some chips. Your Christmas movie list is like no other—none of the fluffy rom coms like The Holidays or Love Actually, also no household classics like Home Alone or Miracle on 34th Street. To be fair, you have nothing against them, you just prefer something that brings more of an adrenaline rush. Therefore, your picks consist mainly of psychological thrillers and horror movies. You remember feeling apprehensive when you first told Jake about it, thinking it would be weird for a girl to choose The Shining over Titanic. But Jake is completely unbothered. Instead, he loves that about you. “Love my girl quirky,” is how he had put it. “And I get to hold you if you’re scared.” (You always protest that you’re not, but sometimes you do, and you have to admit it does feel nice to have someone’s shirt to bury your face into just in case some scenes get too intense for your liking). Actually, you think now you’ve successfully gotten Jake into it as well. He especially likes to plague you with his theories after you have finished the movie, turned off the lights, and snuggled under the duvets. (“But do you think he really killed her? I mean, what if—-” “Jake, enough!”)

But now, art kind of imitates life. The house feels weirdly empty and quiet. Jake is no where in sight.

“Jake?” Not in the bathroom. Not in his studio in the basement. Not in the garage either.

Just as you are staring to wonder if this is some kind of prank, you look outside the window and saw a familiar figure in the backyard. Jake was standing near the fence, fumbling with something. His back is turned against you, so you couldn’t figure out what he is doing.

It starts snowing again. The crisp air outdoor whips all the sleepiness clear from your head. You wrap your arm around yourself and walk towards Jake. He must be really focused on whatever he is doing because he didn’t hear you approaching at all. Now you are standing close enough to see clearly.

He uses a gift card to scoop up some snow, flattens it with his palm, and then adheres the now thin slice of snow to a stick. There are already layers attached to it; the shape of it somewhat resembles a flower.

“Jake, what are you doing up here?”

Jake spins around. For a moment, he wears the expression of a child being caught red-handed stealing cookies from the countertop. And then you see what he is holding in his hand.

It is a half-finished rose, but made of snow.

“Shh, it’s almost done. Just give me a moment.” Jake has that serious look on his face, the same one on stage when he was looking down at his guitar through hooded eyes, a slight crease at the inner corner of his eyebrows; his lips pressed, showing his Marionette lines. His long eyelashes give the false impression that he has his eyes closed.

The snows has accumulated over night and reached a rather firm texture, which is idea for shaping. But it is also naturally brittle. Even if you are not the one making it, you can tell that it requires one to find the sweet spot between melting the snow and wetting it just enough so that it sticks. You see Jake’s hand red with cold and your heart wrenches at the sight. He doesn’t seem to care at all. You want stop him right there, but something about his demeanour tells you that he really wants to show you the result.

It seems that Jake got the gist of it pretty quickly. He repeats the process a few more times and there it is, a rose made of snow. The layered petals hug around the bud, its edges crystal and flimsy like cicadas’ wings. He picks it up by the stem carefully and extends it to you.

“Here, a rose for my dearest.”

You are too stunned to speak, struck by the beauty frozen in time. You don’t know where he gets the idea from, but it is such an endearing gesture, him leaving the warm bedside of his soundly asleep lover, standing in the cold, molding snow with his bare hands, just so that he could surprise her.

“I…I love this so much. Thank you, Jake.”

When you look up at Jake, your eyes are stinging with tears. The tip of Jake’s nose is frozen red, as well as his cheeks. He was looking at you with a toothy grin. As cliché as it may sound, Jake truly came into your life like a knight in an armour made of starlight. Being in a relationship with him has taught you so much more about growth, trust, and loyalty. He adores and cherishes you with all his heart. He will always make an effort for you, will always firmly choose you and stand by you to support you. Shy he maybe, when he loves, he never holds back. A single rose has always meant the words, “I love you”; it holds all his love.

“Don’t cry, my dear, your tears are gonna freeze too. I wanted you to be happy.” Jake coos, wiping away your tears. The coldness of his thumb reminds you of you shouldn’t be wasting more time on stupid tears and Jake should get his hands warmed up.

“Wait here!” You yell over your shoulder as you run inside the house. Don’t even bother taking off your wet boots; you grab a Tupperware and a piece of styrofoam laying around from the gift wrappings and rush back out.

“This is going to live in my fridge forever.”

Jake laughs as he helps you stab the snapped stem onto the styrofoam to secure the rose in the container. “It is truly amazing how romance always resides in the ephemeral and transient things. It is lucky that we still have eyes that can see and a heart that is still beating to appreciate them.”

“Yes, but not everyone is lucky to have this kind of beauty and happiness captured for them, though.” You put his hands into the pocket of your coat as you walk back inside, “Oh, Jakey boy, what have I done to deserve you?”

✅ A snow rose. This one is uncalled for, but hey, what’s a to-do list if there wasn’t some surprise interruption, especially when it’s an incredibly precious one like this.

7:45 PM You have been checking on your snow rose every time you open the fridge (which is very often), like checking on the pet goldfish you’ve got in kindergarten.

“Baby, you know it’s not gonna grow legs and run away, right?” Jake leans against the kitchen counter. “With that much snow out there, I could just make you another—-”

“Don’t you dare risk those money makers for things like this again!” You give him a pointed look. You have been babying Jake’s hands since the moment you got back inside: running them under lukewarm water, submerging them in a basin of warm water with essential oil, rubbing and massaging his fingers to accelerate blood circulation, you even made him apply some coconut-scented hand cream (“My hands smell like piña colada”). Jake has to assure you thrice or even more times that he feels just fine, but still, you give him that suspicious “mom” look. (“Y/n, I promise you my hands are fine. They are strong guitar fingers, they can hold against a little chills. Plus, I’ve broken my arm before and——-” “Shhhhh! Knock on wood, Jake!”)

“Anyways, I think the cookie dough should be done chilling. Do you mind taking them out after you’ve done inspecting your rose, my love?”

You are baking some cookies for the family gathering tomorrow. You have found a recipe for Aquarium Cookies, which upgrades the traditional stained glass cookies by pressing two of them together and creating some space in between for sprinkles. You are also going to bake some regular sugar cookies using the instrument-shaped cookie cutters you bought, one symbol for each boy.

Baking is your favourite Christmas activities. It warms up the house—both temperature and atmosphere-wise, and makes it smell like a bakery. And nothing beats decorating cookies.

Think about it, a gingerbread house is too limited, and let’s be honest, half of it mostly ended up in the stomachs of some raccoons. Decorating a whole cake is too daunting, but cookies, cookies are perfect! Perfect size, perfect usage, no waste, everyone’s happy.

“They are basically edible canvases,” you tell Jake as he hands you a rolled-out dough.

“Y/n, have I told you how I love the way you brain works? ‘Liquid sun’, 'edible canvases’. Listen to yourself, you are basically a lyricist.”

How does Jake just constantly whips out compliments out of thin air and make your heart flutters like colourful flags in the wind? You smile bashfully. However, the next second, that smile turns into a pout as you remove the cookie cutter and find out that the guitar cookie has a broken neck again.

“Jake, I broke it again,” you whine.

“Here, let me try.” Jake takes over your failed attempts, crumbles it into a ball and flattens it with the rolling pin.

You hold your breathe as Jake gently lifts up the mold. The cookie lies pliantly in his hands. No break. It is kind of magical how Jake can basically “tame” all the guitars in the world if he wants to, even if they’re composed of flour, butter, and sugar.

“How do you do that?” you marvel. “Really, how come you are so good at cooking?” Jake made pasta for dinner using his secret sauce recipe. You helped yourself to two servings.

“Hmm, because I’m a good poet.” Jake says as he produces another perfectly drum-shaped cookie.

“Enlighten me, please.”

“‘A good poet differs nothing at all from a master-cook. Either’s art is the wisdom of the mind’.”

Jake couldn’t help but chuckle at your star-struck fangirl face, “Not my words, it’s from Ben Johnson’s ‘Neptune's Triumph for the Return of Albion’.”

Of course, of course, he would just quote some 17th-century play like it’s some item off the grocery list. You shouldn’t be expecting anything less from a man who recites poetry while launching a paper plane.

✅ Bake and decorate Christmas cookies (philosophically, with a side of literature)

9:43 PM You decided to go to bed early so that you would have enough energy for the official Christmas Day tomorrow. You are going to Karen and Kelly’s house around noon for the family gathering and dinner. But there remains one very important thing to do before you sleep, and you have been waiting in excitement the whole day like a pupil on their way for a field trip.

You and Jake will do your personal gift-opening on Christmas Eve. It is a special and intimate moment just between the two of you when you elope as lovers to your own love nest. It is a time that you deliberately reserve for yourselves away from all the hectic holiday bustle. It has been a tradition of yours, something you probably will keep on doing even after you have kids in the future (that is, if you decide to have them), just to remind yourselves of the special bond you share. And nothing and no one will change it, not the possibilities of additional family members nor the passage of time.

A string version of Last Christmas is playing in the background. Some may consider it a worn-out tune, but it holds a special place in your heart. It brings you back to your sweet elementary school years, where you and your friends would secretly meet together after school and rehearse the song for the school’s annual Christmas party. You guys were so serious about it, coming up with the choreography and everything. And you also remember your mom showing Jake the pictures of your performance when he met your parents for the first time. You feel embarrassed, but Jake finds you adorable in your silly little Santa hat and fluffy costume. Since then, he has made a mental note to always have some version of this song playing in the house around the holiday seasons.

You are wearing one of Jake’s sweaters. It’s a green acrylic sweater from his younger years. He once let you borrow it on a particularly rainy camping trip, and it was the first piece of clothing that you’ve “adopted” from his closet after you got together. The sleeves are a bit long for you, always covering half of your palms when you put your arms down, but you love it; it feels like holding Jake’s hands.

You treat this activity with an almost ritualistic seriousness, making sure you are in your most comfortable state, both mentally and physically.

“Come sit, angel,” Jake pats the space on the carpet next to the fireplace where he is sitting.

You happily oblige. You will play a round of rock, paper, scissors to decide who goes first. This time Jake loses, so he will start first.

He reaches under the Christmas tree and pulls out a small box with forest green wrapping paper. You almost feel bad for ripping the paper just because how beautiful the colour is. You open the lid to reveal a little witch figurine. She is about twenty centimetres tall and made out of wool. She wears a dress with a mixed shade of orange, warm brown hair hanging down to her waist, and a tawny pointy hat with a milky ribbon proudly sitting on top. She holds an Oslo grey broom in her hand, her arms opening as if she is caught in the middle of welcoming someone. The metal spring attachment in the bottom showing her function as a tree topper.

“She is so beautiful!” Your thumb brushes her dress, the wool so smooth and soft.

“It is only right to have her look after the house for my little quirky girl,” Jake says. “Do you want to put it up and see how it looks?”

You nod excitedly and step onto the stool beside the tree. Just like magic, she blends into the whole look perfectly, adding a rustic charm and a warm glow to the evergreen. It is as if she’s belonged there all along.

“I love her already. Thank you so much, baby.” You bend down to kiss Jake on the lips. He knows you so well, he knows that your fantasy since you were a little girl has been living in the woods as a witch, and he remembers how excited you were when the music video of Meeting the Master came out.

“Now, my next gift may need you to help me out a bit,” you say as you walk towards the bookshelf. Jake stands within reaching distance, watching you in curiosity as you move the metal vase stand out of the way and then reach into the gap between the bookshelf and the wall with your right arm. He helps you drag out a long rectangular box.

“Wow, sneaky move here, y/n.” Jake teases. “But that’s a good hiding spot though, I wouldn’t have thought.”

“That’s the point,” you smirk. You are quite proud of yourself, honestly. Jake has been at the studio a lot this month, and you did not let those hours go to waste. Jake wanders around the house when he can’t sleep at night, and you have contemplated a lot of hiding spots.

“This is big stuff,” Jake tears away the wrapping. You got Jake a Whiskey Barrel guitar holder. As the name suggests, it holds three guitars and is made out of staves from renowned bourbon distilleries. The wood is sanded and matt coated, with the black marks of the barrel rings showing its origin. Each piece is unique.

“Merry Christmas! I thought it’d be a nice addition to your studio downstairs.” You lace your fingers together nervously.

“I say it’s a perfect upgrade! The Gibsons are definitely going up on the walls, baby!” Jake presents a winsome smile. “Thank you so much, y/n.”

If your excitement are already bubbling, now it has been dialed up even higher. You and Jake have one last gift for each other and both of you love to save the best for last.

“I didn’t wrap this next one, because I have been literally still adding to it as of today. Now close your eyes.” You move to sit across from Jake.

Jake feels something like a book being laid in his lap. He opens his eyes and sees what appears to be a leather sketchbook. You nod and motion him to flip through it.

They are sketches. Sketches of him. The first page is a sketch of Jake sitting on the lawn and holding his guitar He recognizes that’s one of your first dates at the park. There’s Jake in his sword and rose costume on stage. You have always told him that is one of your favourite costumes of his. There’s Jake in his aprons, stirring something over the stove. There’s Jake soundly asleep, you must’ve sketched that one while he was taking a nap….the last page, freshly dated, concludes with the sketch of a single rose, resembling the one he made for you earlier this afternoon. You have used your pencil as an old-fashion camera and encapsulated all the lovely moments between you on paper.

“I’m not the best with my sketching, but you know, I’m improving. Also, it is not fair for you to be so pretty that it is difficult to draw.” You cheeks now are rosy pink.

“No, sweetheart, these are perfect,” Jake reaches to cup your face, “you know I have always adored your drawings.” He can also see you through the pages; you sitting by the table, stealing glances at him, nibbling on the back of the pencil. The weight of the sketchbook is way more than just paper and lead; it is also his lover’s heart.

“So, to wrap up the night.” Jake gets up and lifts the needle off the playing record. The room becomes quiet, brewing with anticipation. He pulls out his lap top and turns it to face you. On the desktop, there’s a folder labeled with your name; a single audio file lies in it. Jake turns the volume to the fullest and clicks on the file.

Within five seconds, you have recognized it is Jeff Beck’s Cause We’ve Ended as Lovers. Or, should you say, Jake’s version of Jeff Beck’s Cause We’ve Ended as Lovers. The song is without a doubt your all-time favourite guitar solo. The whole Blow by Blow album is amazing, but you have taken a special liking to this song. Yes, it is sad, but it is bittersweet in a poignant and amicable way. It is an elegiac of old lovers but also an affirmation and proof of a beautiful memory, representing the a part of life that is forever altered just because you have crossed path with someone. For the whole five minutes and forty-two seconds, it is as if you are transported to another dimension. Now, this song has become even more significant to you. The fact that Jake covers and records it for you feels makes it particularly personal and intimate. You try to picture him standing in the studio, in a similar position as the figure on the album cover.

A single tear escapes the corner of your eye and Jake is quick to catch it with his thumb. You hold his hand close to your face, kissing his fingers gently.

“I’m in my feels again,” you say after taking a deep breathe, “continue to make me cry and I will need to go check on my emotional support rose again.”

Jake chuckles. “Aww, I am glad you like it, love. Merry Christmas.”

“Thank you so much. I love you, Jake.”

“I love you too, doll.” He scoots over closer. “Now, can I get another kiss from my girl?”

Surely he can, but you just want to tease him a bit more.

“Oops, I’m afraid you can’t, sir. I see no mistletoe around here.” You grin mischievously.

Jake was prepared for your impishness. He grabs his phone and quickly searches up a photo of mistletoe. Holding it above your heads, he raises his eyebrows, a silent “how about now?”

You roll your eyes. “Come here already, you dork.”

✅ Give Jake his gifts. (The guitar holder is hiding behind the bookshelf)

10:21 PM Having exhausted almost every single item on your to-do list, it is finally time to relax. You lie in each other’s arm like a pretzel. You are dozing off to the steady rhythm of Jake’s heartbeat. You must have ended up on the nice list this year. You are so grateful for all you have, for being loved and cared for in every way.

✅ Snuggle with Jake. Tell him how much you love him.

Mentally, you tick off the last box of your Christmas Eve to-do list before falling into a dream filled with marshmallows and hot chocolate, starlight and lover.

Here, you made it!! Thank you so much for reading.

Just in case you want to check out more of my works:

Mariner's Complex || Permission to Fall || Love is a four-legged word || The Lucky Ones ||

I'm just starting off with writing fics for gvf, please leave a comment or send me an ask/message if you would like me to put up a tag list :)

#jake kiskza x reader #jake kiszka fanfiction #jake kiszka fluff #jake kiszka fic #greta van fleet fan fiction #gvf secret santa #gvf fluff #gvf fanfiction #jake kiszka

[fortheloveoffanfic]

Warmer

John Wick x Reader

Author's Note: One of a small handful of holiday-centric drabbles.

Masterlists

Warnings- hints at age gap

“I can’t believe you’ve never had hot cocoa,” Y/n scoffed, expression etched with disbelief as she regarded John, who was perched on a stool at the breakfast bar in her Manhattan apartment, “You’ve been around for like, fourty-” He offered her a pointed look and in response, she pressed her lips together, barely restraining a grin, “A while,” she eventually corrected.     

“I don’t know what to tell you, sweetheart,” he shrugged, absently fiddling with the edge of her decorative fruit bowl, “Its just…not the kind of thing I got growing up,” he face fell a little and he ducked his head to hide it- though Y/n saw anyway. “Then the Marines…..we’re more partial to coffee,” he chuckled dryly, attempting to lighten the mood, “After that it just felt like….” He shook a shoulder, “Kid stuff.”

Arching her brows, she sauntered over to the counter, leaning forward over the marble surface to reach for one of his hands. “Are you calling me a kid, Jonathan?” Her question carried an air of feigned seriousness but her fingers toying with his were enough to prove that she wasn’t actually upset.   

“I suspect that I should choose my next words carefully,” he moistened his lips, a glimmer dancing in his dark eyes.    

“You should,” Y/n warned lightly. After another moment of easy silence, they both snorted a brief fit of quiet laughter.

When they settled, Y/n bent her head and bought John’s hand to her lips, pressing a chaste, lingering kiss to his knuckles. She always felt the need to be gentle with his hands; they’d been through so much, it only made sense that someone take the time to offer them- like him- some tenderness and care. “I’m sorry I made fun of you,” her tone dropped, remorse finally seeping in; it wasn’t his fault that he’d never been afforded simple pleasures of the holiday season, like cocoa with marshmallows during winter or a Christmas tree.   

Or someone to spend the holidays with.

“Its okay,” John flashed her a faint smile, weaning his hands out of hers to hook his fingers under her chin. The rough pad of his thumb caressed her jaw and he added softly, “I know you didn’t mean anything by it.”   

“I didn’t,” Y/n confirmed, shifting her face to peck the inside of his wrist before pulling away altogether, returning to her saucepan on the stove. Giving the contents a gentle stir with a wooden spoon, she reached for the festive mugs she’d left nearby. “This should be cool enough,” she announced, lifting the pot off the stove before setting it down moments later on a pot holder and reaching for a ladle so she could fill up both mugs.

“So how do we do this?” John’s voice behind her coupled with his hands suddenly landing on her hips made her jump a little, and he chortled quietly. “Sorry,” he mumbled, bringing his lips to the top of her head. His face lingered there for a moment, nose buried in her hair, breathing the scent of her shampoo. 

It always amazed her; he was so big and imposing, yet so impressively quiet when he moved- Y/n supposed it came with his job description.     

“We do it," she giggled softly when his hands slid from her hips to her front, while he simultaneously stepped forward a bit, so her back would be flush against his chest. “Like this,” Y/n managed through her laughter, just after topping the mugs with whipped cream and a few mini marshmallows.     

“Try it,” she encouraged, turning in his tight embrace to offer John one of the mugs.   

“It looks sweet- like sugary,” he clarified, furrowing his brows a little before finally bringing the cup to his lips. At the initial taste, John- her back coffee, one sugar, whiskey neat man- hummed appreciatively. “Its good, actually,” he sounded weary, as if the thought liking cocoa was a threat to his reputation as a big, bad assassin who could punch his way through any situation that called for it.     

He squinted his eyes a little when she put her hands over her lips, stifling a small laugh, “What?” 

“You’ve got a little…..” She reached up, using her pointer to swipe some whipped cream off the top of his nose, subsequently popping her finger into her mouth.   

“See why I’ve never done this?” He joked, setting the mug down on the counter once more as she leaned against the edge.   

Y/n snorted, “Cause you hate whipped cream?”    

John huffed, smile softening, “Cute, but no,” with his hands now free, he reached for hers, lifting them a little between them, “Because I’ve never had someone to share it with.”   

Her cheeks warmed up and not knowing how else to respond, Y/n tilted her head slightly and regarded him with a fondness that was reserved only for John, “I think you might be sweeter than the cocoa.”    

A soft sound- like a hum contained low in his throat- was John’s immediate response. Though, after a moment, he let her hands go in favor of wrapping his arms around her in a hug, something that was a little unconventional with John; in their time together, he’d started becoming more acquainted with physical affection-with the idea that his body could do something more than inflict pain- but conventional hugs were still a rarity. Y/n got the sense that they must have made him feel too vulnerable, and while she did enjoy being close to him, she loved him more than enough to respect his boundaries and the pace he wanted to go at

She also appreciated the moments where he trusted her enough to initiate one. 

Slightly, John lifted her off the ground, just as her arms tightened affectionately around his neck. His salt and pepper beard ticked the side of her face, and she smiled while nuzzling closer, just as he whispered; “I think you’re warmer.” 

#john wick #keanu reeves #john wick x reader #keanu reeves x reader #christmas fic #john wick fanfic #warmer

[glossolali]

Check notes for link to the Caleb version of this poll!

#heeehee just got polls #critical role #shadowgast #essek #caleb widogast #essek thelyss #caleb #cr poll #critical role poll #glossopost #glossopoll

[mykneeshurt]

hi!! happy new year!! 💗

I love ur writing, and I was thinking to drop this request;

so may request some hc’s of cod task force 141 (+ alejandro, könig, graves and rudy) :))

feel free to skip this if youre busy, just wondering, happy new year :)

Sorry this one took me some time, I got too in my head about it. It was so hard to not be bitchy to Graves lmfao, Soap is my favourite enjoy! SFW. Let me know if you want NSFW ones

Price 🥃

He supports Liverpool FC, no I won’t hear any different

His favourite non-alcoholic drink is ‘builders tea’

Glenfiddich 18 is his Whisky of choice

Favourite colour is khaki green

Is the father figure of the group, strong, reliable, approachable (everything my dad wasn’t lmfao, I still love him)

He wears a plain t-shirt pyjamas to bed, sleeps on his side, one arm under his head, absolutely snores

His favourite breed of dog is a Collie, or any working dog he can walk for miles for in the country side

He absolutely loves Bargain Hunt on TV

His favourite smell is fresh gingerbread

He’d make an excellent grandfather tbh

Soap 🧼

Despite being Scottish he supports Blackburn FC, an underdog (I refuse to comment on the Celtic vs Rangers, far too much history there. And I’m Welsh, it ent for me to say haah)

He absolutely loves winding the boys up about being English

His text tone is SCOTLAND FOREVVAAAA *aggressive bagpipes*

Soap 100% sleeps in the buff

His favourite dog would be a Labrador, nice active family friendly dog

He’s a chatterbox but a good listener when he needs to be, will often give some surprisingly good advice

He’s an iPhone wanker

Absolutely a mummy’s boy, would do anything for her - he’d love to pay off her mortgage for her

His favourite smell is the cheesy paws of his dog for real

He’s not a morning person, he loves a lie in when he can

Ghost 💀

Ghost supports Manchester City, he just gives me those vibes ok?

His favourite weather is rain/storms

When he’s home from a mission he’s a bath guy, he showers all the time on base, so when he’s home it’s hot ass bath with an audio book and his bourbon

He has two cats that his neighbour looks after when he’s away, two British blue shorthairs. Called Foxtrot and Whiskey

He also loves rabbits

He loves helping beginners at the gym

His favourite tv show is The Simpsons, something easy and colourful to watch to distract him from what he’s seen

He smells like Dior Suvage (anything musky and heavy)

He’s ambidextrous

He loves a cooked dinner, beef, roast potatoes, all the veg, stuffing and all the Yorkshire puddings

He’s got his tongue pierced, I’ve seen the fan art. You can’t tell me other wise.

Gaz 🇬🇧

He gives me Arsenal vibes, so he supports them

But also supports Chicago Bears in American Football

He’s gentle, reserved so he’d have a rat as a pet, highly intelligent

Fish and chips with curry sauce is his favourite meal, a proper British geeza

He smells fresh, think a bright spring day, fresh linen and cut grass

He loves the sunshine

He’s a keen gardener, grows his own herbs and vegetables

His house is spotless, minimalist, but has a huge book collection

He loves caramel lattes despite the banter from the boys, he has a sweet tooth

Loves meeting the boys down the pub on a Sunday for a carvery

Alejandro 🌹

He’s an excellent cook, his favourite hobby when not on a mission is trying out new recipes for Los Vaqueros

This man sleeps in silk sheets, tell me he doesn’t?

He’s fiercely loyal his country, he loves Mexico and is passionate about it through and through

He’s got a great sense of humour, enjoys making people laugh

He runs marathons for charity in his spare time

His favourite subject in school was history

If you’re sad this man gives the best hugs, he’ll make you a strong ass coffee and give one hell of a pep talk

His favourite smell is fresh cocoa beans, always stealing the nibs to eat

Him and Rudy have film nights with their families when they’re home

He’s 100% a girl dad, teaches her how to shoot with nerf guns in the garden

Rudy ❤️

He has a German Vizsla called Pollito, because her legs look like chicken drumsticks

He 100% has an android phone

He’s an armature photographer in his spare time, he loves nature

He and Alejandro have personalised ringtones for each other

His favourite food is Seafood paella

He owns a small farm, sells the produce to the local area, he loves animals

He once won a poetry competition

His favourite colour is orange

Sorry but he wears lynx Africa (I like it sue me)

He likes to game in his spare time, anything from farm simulator to RPGs

König 👑

He loves drawing, anything creative, he’ll draw/paint the Austrian countryside to de-stress

He grew up on a small farm in the Austrian mountains, he has a very close family

He doesn’t like large crowds, worried people stare at him because of his height, feels claustrophobic sometimes

He bites his nails when his hands aren’t busy or covered by gloves

He’s a cat guy 100%

He’s left handed, 100% a lefty but holds his gun right handed (its a struggle, I’m left handed)

He’d like a family one day, he’s got a lot of love to give

He smells like leather, sandalwood and vanilla

He loves eating raw cookie dough, vanilla and chocolate chip

He holds the record for the hardest punch in his home town

Graves 🇺🇸

His favourite holiday is July 4th, he does a huge fireworks display whenever he’s home

His favourite food is Gumbo

He smells like Paco Rabane Invictus

He’s got 3 Dobermans, whom he loves with all his heart. Ben, Jacob and Molly

He has a white picket fence - obviously

He doesn’t have a good relationship with his father, daddy forced him into the army to gain approval

He sleeps in red plaid pyjamas and has matching slippers

He’s fluent in French, he learnt it to pick up girls

He loves hiking in his spare time, with his 3 dogs

He runs support groups for veterans on a Thursday a local library

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #cod mw22 #john soap mactavish #soap mctavish #phillip graves #alejandro vargas #Alejandro #rudy mw2 #rudolfo parra #könig modern warfare #könig #könig cod #kyle gaz garrick #gaz garrick #captain price #captain john price #john price #headcanon #call of duty ghost simon riley #modern warefare 2 #simon riley

[bokettochild]

what are your favourite headcanons for all the boys? (also hi mama lava we havent spoken in a while oopsie hah,,hope ur doing well <3)

I'm doing quite well, m'dear! Mnetally at least LOL

The body hates fall and the changes in the air, but the rain makes me happy and the leaves are going CRONCH so I can still smile! Also, it is now cider and cocoa wheather! (I really need to finish that darn Ravio scarf now LOL)

Okay! Headcannons!

Time: He has no clue what's happening ever. Time is hard for me to relate to or even work with, so I don't tend to mess around as much with headcannons for him, but I love the idea that he is masquerading as an adult all the time and genuinely is confused by almost everything. As someone who was left in charge of see stinkers with no clue on how to handle them, it makes him relatable and easier to write that way :)

Warriors: His dark form is a dragon. Even prior to TotK I liked the idea that certain people could/would become dragons, and considering there are some who ship him and his Zelda and they come before Flora, that would mean it runs in the family LOL. It also really suits him for REASONS and I like playing with it

Sky: His eyes flash silver when he's angry, and lightning will crash even on a sunny day when you piss him off. He killed a god, let this man be an unhinged BAMF eldrich hero!

Hyrule: Navi is his mother. I like the idea of him growing up hearing stories of the Hero of Time. i like the idea of him setting out on his adventure not just because Impa asked him too, but because that pig sounds a lot like the sucker who killed his big brother and their family doesn't go down unavenged! He totally had a few words for Ganon in that last fight, and even if it was the last thing the king of evil thought, he knew he was killed on behalf of a hero, not just by one.

Twilight: He's a white girl. It's really a personal gag for me, but he likes horses and stupid romance stories and ridiculously sweet drinks and he can't hold his whiskey for the life of him. Okay, like, he can, but why would he drink whiskey when he can have something strawberry flavoured? He just... he's a big rancher and scary wolf, but he will willingly wear pink and be a barbie is what I'm saying. And yes he'd enjoy it! (although he'd prefer pants please, he's still a man Barbie, okay? Not a Ken, a man Barbie)

(I have others for Twi, but this one makes me happy to ridiculous levels and gives the seratonin <3)

Wind: He's Warriors' grandfather. I know it;s less about him and more about Warriors, but the idea of him shaping and guiding the next hero, preserving that hero's childhood and protecting it as long as he can, makes me happy. there were totally calls to adventure long before Cia, but Wind said "heck no, he's underage, ain't happening" and either stopped that shit or dealt with it himself. He made sure to teach Warriors everything he wishes he'd known, or heard the others say they wished they'd known when starting: starting a fire, wayfaring, tracking, hunting, fishing, map making, how to make gear and supplies last, where to find valuable things, all that sort of stuff. he didn't know what sort of trouble the hero after him would face, so he made sure to provide help and leave supplies in every way he could think of (some of which, incidentally, lasted all the way to wild's time to help him).

Wild: He's Other. He's not quite right and he's more than just slightly screwed up, but not in the pretty, Fae like way it's often pictured. Wild is Other like a twisted and mangled tree that scrapes across your window in the night, keeping you awake but keeping the monsters cowering under your bed in fear. He's other like a too wide smile, like a sigh of relief when he feels Death's touch lingering on Legend. He's Not Quite Right in a way you have to know him to see, but you can't ever stop seeing after. (It's okay. Flora is too and she feels safer being with someone who's the same)

Legend: Personal hc I never get to share! Legend is the personification of Balance! He straddles light and dark both as a rabbit and in his fifth adventure. He's kind of died twice (OoS manga & a personal theory about Koholint) yet he's still alive. He kills in order to preserve life and lives in order to kill that which threatens it. He represents the balance in Hyrule and preserves it, hence why he tends to fill any needed role (watching the backs of the heroes throughout LU, taking the lead in Sunset, acting as a middleground/middle sibling in Sunrise) in order to prevent things tipping out of balance. legend is the middle ground between extremes, and a walking contradiction.

Four: I will do the colours as well, but I adore them being remembered, even though Four thinks he won't be. he comments in the comic that he's glad to at least have done well enough that no one needs to worry about his enemies, hence why they don't talk about him anymore, but I like the idea that Malon taught Time to read by reading him parts or stories about Four, but he got to impatient to wait to find out the ending, so he forced himself to figure it out as fast as possible to get there even if she wans't there to tell him. I like Legend hearing stories of him and growing up admiring him, of spending his first few adventures trying to be like him because that's what heroes who win are like. I love Four being remembered and adored. He deserves it! (And if he maybe got sealed away long enough to come back and meet some future heroes, well, I love that too!)

Red: Is actually the most dangerous of the colours when he's mad. He will wreck your shit, he will burn you alive. Do not try him.

Blue: He's fond of patterns and artwork, and knitting helps keep him calm. He's the crafter of the colors, and the only one if you disregard smithing. Also, he's the mom friend.

Green: He likes drawing. I don't know why, he just does. Also, outdoorsy boy. He hates shoes, hates floors, and will sit in the grass drawing trees and chatting with minish for hours if nothing stops him.

Vio: Loves cats. Despite Four as a whole having a fear of cats, and the other colors also sharing that fear, Vio's sense of self preservation sort of flew out the window with the trust the others had in him when he joined Shadow. Vio can look at any animal that should reasonably be able to kill them and actually will try and determine if he can just... touch it. he doesn't want to even be friends, he just wants to see if, since a dragon will let him, will this giant wildcat also? He adores Wolfie more than even Red. The others think there is something wrong with him that he likes terrifying creatures so much.

#asks and answers #linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu legend #lu warriors #lu twilight #lu wild #lu four #lu time #lu sky #lu hyrule #lu wind

[sailtomarina]

Romantic, If a Bit Macabre

She’d burst from the Floo with all the grace of a forest troll straight into Blaise’s drawing room, interrupting the third round of drinks. Draco had just been in the middle of explaining to Pansy that he was not interested in a blind date with yet another friend of hers—just because he and Hermione had broken up did not mean he was ready to get under someone new.

The littlest of details reminded him of her. A line from a song playing in the background at the pub. A book left along a side table, as if waiting to be picked up and finished. The hint of cinnamon when he walked by their favorite bakery, or wafting up from someone’s hot cocoa. He couldn’t escape her no matter where he went, and the twisted thing was that he had been the one to end things.

He’d pursued her so relentlessly at the start, wooed her into acceptance. Their sex was…there weren’t words to describe that level of compatibility. Once she was his and he was hers, he thought they had obtained their happy ever after. For a while—1 year, 2 months, and 23 days to be exact—that was the truth of it.

Then he had to go and muck it all up by asking her to marry him.

She said no.

That was that. The next day, Ginny showed up at the flat they had shared for half a year and packed up all her belongings. She even took Hermione’s favorite mug, separating it from the paired set to which it belonged.

Hermione’s reasons for refusal were simple in that they defined her. How could he deny her dreams? With her planned career path, she didn’t have time to devote to marriage, didn’t want to change her name, and didn’t want to have children yet. Never mind the fact that Draco had never expected any of those things. He didn’t care about continuing the Malfoy legacy and hadn’t for a long time. All he wanted was to be bound to her in the most intimate of ways.

Now she was here, Floo powder dusting her chunky maroon jumper and a streak of soot across her nose. The curls she’d taken to straightening for work were out in full force the way he preferred and dancing in a halo around her head like a creature possessed. She was breathing heavily as if she’d just sprinted across a field, her cheeks flushed red. Draco thought she’d never looked more lovely.

Hermione took three long strides and grabbed the closest person to her by the collar.

“Wha-what’s going on?” Theo cried, just managing to hand off his whiskey glass to Blaise before stumbling along behind her.

“You’re going to be our witness,” snapped Hermione.

She came to a halt in front of Draco. He couldn’t for the life of him understand what he’d done this time to earn the intensity that emanated from her tiny frame. And why did she need a witness?

“Go on, take out your wand.” She waved at Theo impatiently.

Draco took a sharp breath the instant her eyes turned away, and shrugged at the confused looks his friends sent their way.

“What’s going on, Granger?” He asked quietly. If he was about to die, he wanted to at least know why.

The faintest flicker of something, an emotion he couldn’t place, appeared before she schooled her face back to confidence. “I’m here to remedy a wrong.”

“A wrong,” he repeated.

They stared at one another for an awkward amount of time, likely only a few seconds, but it felt like minutes.

“Can you elaborate?” Did she want him to apologize for proposing?

Hermione took a deep breath and as his eyes scanned her figure, he realized she was gripping the hem of her jumper in a familiar gesture attempting self-control.

That flicker he’d seen earlier was fear.

“I overreacted when you proposed to me. I pushed you away instead of listening.” Her words came out in a single exhale as if they’d been waiting to vomit up from the moment she’d appeared.

He probably should have felt relieved, but all Draco could feel at the moment was numb confusion. 

“And how are you going to right overreacting and not listening?” His eyes panned over to Theo, who still stood with his wand held at an awkward angle awaiting instruction.

The unexpected feeling of her hand, so small and warm, taking his own snapped his attention back to her. She stared up at him like she was looking for something. Reassurance? Permission? Draco would give it all to her if only he knew how.

“I just need to know one thing first,” she said, just soft enough to stay between the two of them. In the motion to take his hand, she had stepped close into him. He tried not to greedily gulp in her comforting scent.

His voice came out rougher than intended. “Ask away.”

She continued to stare up at him for a few beats more, blinking heavily and lips parting in the waiting. Draco felt frozen within the amber of her eyes, caught like an insect and helpless to the flow of time.

“Do you still love me?”

He sucked in a deep breath. He’d been holding it in anticipation of her question, and now he felt like the hourglass had turned and the sands were rushing him along towards a yet unknown end.

“Of course I do.”

Hermione nodded as if she’d expected that answer, but the loosening of tension in her jaw revealed her relief. She turned back to Theo. “I need you to be our bonder. Place your wand against our hands.”

Bonder?

“I, Hermione Granger…”

His heart thundered in his ears, nearly drowning her out. “Hermione, you don’t have to—”

“…promise to always listen and communicate.”

“Love, please—”

“I promise to cherish you as you deserve and make time for us. I vow to stay true to my love for you, Draco Malfoy, for as long as you share that love.” She turned to nod at Theo, but before the other wizard could bind the oath, Draco cut in.

“I, Draco Malfoy, will never stand in the way of your dreams.”

“Oh, Draco…”

“I promise to support you in every way I know how to help you achieve them. I vow to match every one of the oaths that you’ve made to me and to love you until my very last breath.”

He willed her to feel his resolution through his gaze and grip. The first time he’d been involved in an Unbreakable Vow had been without his knowledge when his mother had made Severus promise to protect him. Draco knew the consequences of a broken vow. He also knew that he could never, ever break this one.

Tears spilled from her eyes as he continued to hold on to her and the golden threads of their oath wrapped around from wrist to wrist. They might as well have been alone, their friends and surroundings fading into nothingness as the light of their promises glowed all around them. They only saw each other and the hope of the future ahead of them.

“Granger, did you seriously prefer an Unbreakable Vow to waiting for me to set you up with Draco?”

Pansy’s shrill voice broke through the spell, effectively dispersing the tension in the air.

“Well, I thought it was romantic, if a bit macabre,” drawled Blaise. He took a sip from  what was probably Theo’s glass, given he held an empty one in his other hand.

Draco still held her hand in his own even though the magic of their vow had faded. She didn’t try to pull away, instead nestling forward as he proceeded to wrap his free arm around her. He peered down at her, a smirk starting to form on his lips.

“You were Pansy’s blind date?”

She snorted into his chest. “Yes, you prat. You shouldn’t have turned her down the past few times. We could’ve resolved this much sooner.”

“You realize accepting would’ve meant me moving on, right?”

This time it was her turn to grin up at him, a knowing glint in her eye. “Yes, but I would’ve pulled you right back to me.”

“You’re a witch.”

“I’m your witch.”

The groans that followed reminded them that no, they were not alone. “Get a room, you two!”

So, they did.

WC 1404

DHR Month Fest Prompt: Week 2 - Bonds, September 10 - Unbreakable Vow

Cross-posted on AO3

Big props to Pansy for helping Hermione try to fix things up with Draco, am I right?

While an Unbreakable Vow might be over the top, I don't think it's too unlike Hermione to do something so extreme given what she was like growing up with Harry. The girl has zero chill.

#dramione month #dramionemonth #dramione #dhr fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #draco malfoy x hermione granger #hermione granger #draco malfoy

[faces-ofvenus]

Watching shows/movies together.

How often do you watch shows together, their preferred genre or sub-genre, and whether they continue to watch without you when you clearly schedule to watch together, and their preferred show.

horror | suspense or action

Aegon likes very much series that give him some adrenaline, or that make him scared, that's why horror, suspense or action series or movies are his favorites, he doesn't like psychological horror very much, since he thinks it's quite stopped and sometimes he can't understand completely, or join the dots correctly, he's lazy you know, always wanting the explanations to come without him having to look for it, you tell him to shut up and pay attention to how scary and disturbing it all is for a fact and he's like, "and when does the scare really come!

I'll tell you, he's scary enough, yes, he gets scared in some movie and you're looking at him like, that's not even scary, it was obvious the devil was going to show up, and he's hugging you because he wasn't really expecting it, and you laugh and hug him back, sometimes not to make him feel bad, or better yet to make him feel good, you hug him and climb up on his lap saying that you are scared even though you are not and he is shitting himself but he gets a poker face and is like, "yes I am scared, but I am your prince and I will protect you from these demons" is cute and he laughs when you are scared and he is not.

Action and survival series are his favorite, he is the type that liked round six and you were team Alice in Borderland so you introduced him and he was like "what a fucking series" would he survive the games, of course not but say yes, just to see him happy, he gets all sad when his favorite character died, yes he cursed the series because they killed his favorite character, who in his vision carried the whole series on his back, and now it is boring as fuck.

His favorite series would for sure be Alice in Borderland or the boys, only because he secretly loves superheroes, he thinks he would be a brutish Billy but in reality he is just a sedentary version of the homelander.

His favorite movie for sure would be Saw, Deadpool, The conjuring and Bullet train.

He hardly watches any series or movies without you, first because he himself before you only knew how to drink, go out and fuck, and sometimes just sleep, most of the time actually, then you came along and he was like, yeah staying up at 5 in the morning watching series instead of dancing in a club is not that bad, and it is just amazing, he loves it and he really loves it.

The way there is a lot of bullshit around you, and no alcohol, he secretly started to have an addiction to chocolate instead of whiskey thanks to you congratulations, now he would rather have a bar of pure sugar and cocoa than a horrible Marlboro cigarette.

You are usually in a cuddling position, with you on top of him lying on the huge sofa in his apartment, he likes the feeling of your bodies being together but not in a sexual way, usually one of his hands is firmly on your waist, and the other is with some candy in hand, sometimes a cigarette but you hate it when he smokes lying down, especially when he once dropped garbage on you, what he was stopping his hands are usually busy too, but otherwise always hugging you too.

You don't like going to the movies in the cinema much mainly because it doesn't have the same comfort as his bed, and generally you prefer his tv than, a pc or something.

drama | sitcom or daily life series

Jace is almost a chameleon I would say, he sees if anything that catches his attention, but obviously his gaze is usually more glued on sitcoms or series that portrays some kind of daily life, be it teenagers, at work or something more mature, long series are a love and hate, he loves not having to be every week having to look for what to watch, since when he starts watching something, he doesn't stop until it's over, and he always needs to fill this void.

So long series can keep him hooked for a long time, at the same time Jacaerys is someone who is a little too critical, so as the seasons go by he might dislike it more and more, like when he decided to marathon all the seasons of How I Met Your Mother, but he never gives up, he has the philosophy to always finish everything he starts, what you can and what you can't agree on, if you are the short series type or watch too many at once, it can make him confused like, we were watching this one because you want to switch to another one, and you look at him "Jacaerys Velaryon, we have seen 5 seasons of the same series in the last weeks".

So yes miss freie, but apart from all that, he loves having that time with you, and he would never watch it without you, or at least without your permission, let's face it, sometimes it can be repetitive, you have a lot of conversation about the series and issue especially if it deals with more serious stuff in general, If it is a movie that is too crazy, and you can't watch it together, believe me, you have been up all night talking about the amazing plot twist of the series you are watching, and it was like my head exploded, I didn't expect it, and you were laughing or crying about it.

About movies, you see everything in general, he really enjoys going to the movies, it's a good way to of calling you out to go out and so on, and he especially likes it when it's some kind of horror because you always lodge yourself in his arms, and he also likes to be your savior, he doesn't get scared so easily, I can also say that Jacaerys is the kind of person who loves a typical romance, he's just a romantic guy and all, and when the actor says a romantic and heartbreaking line, he'll get your attention, and he'll say the same words to you, and you'll be just like, what a fucking man, then they'll kiss, in short your courtship is a romance movie.

He hates movies of dogs dying that just, don't stop, it kills him inside, the last 2 movies where the dog dies that you took him to watch he just cried, he cried, it was so heartbreaking, he remembered his beloved Vermax, and how only painful because he feels the same connection, so yes you have destroyed him for, it requires after hugging session between him, you and poor Vermax who is not understanding why his owner is crying, hugging saying that you two are the most important things to him, and doesn't understand why in every movie, the protagonist loses the girl or or his life partner.

investigation | documentaries

Aemond has peculiar and immutable tastes, he hates horror movies not because of the scare, but because everything is so fake and predictable, he hates romance just because it's so melodramatic that he just doesn't like it, he hates drama because, the genre says it all, if he's going to be sad, he won't watch a movie that takes 1 hour of his life, sometimes more, and he hates mostly everything reminiscent or at least almost everything reminiscent of fantasy.

But he doesn't spend all day in a book, to his delight obviously, since you felt that you simply didn't spend that much time with him, even if you like all of them or some of the genres mentioned above, I can tell you that trying to force him to watch them will be a very bad idea.

He loves crime series, or those that make him think and get out of his thought bubble, the best way to win him over is to put on something like that, but he hates things that go on too long, so anthology series are his favorites, law series also always catch his interest, if you have the same tastes congratulations, you'll make him sit for a long time on the couch/bed with you watching, but he's not the type to talk much, so it can be a little boring, especially if you don't pay attention.

But it is so funny, when the shock of finding out the killer comes, you are like, I didn't understand what he looked like, and he spends a long, long time explaining to you how he already knew, maybe you already knew too, but the fact that he is so interested and talks like an expert entertains you more than the series.

Once you told him that you found a magnificent movie about investigation, and he was like, tell me more, and you watched it knowing the horror he was going to look, but you made him promise that he would watch it with you until the end, detail, the movie was Scooby-Doo, he looked at you for a long time, but to soften him up you just kissed him and it worked for a while, he hated most of the actors yes, their shallow dramas annoyed him, but the investigation was kind of? Amusing, he won't admit that ok, seeing you laughing at some stupid joke, made up for everything, even if he would never admit that either.

He also loves documentaries, even though he is boring about many things, he just likes to know, so the best time to introduce him to various things, for sure would be through this, you have seen documentaries of everything from serial killers, to the first video game ever invented, it's just that he likes to know, and if you like it as much as he does, he is happy to share, and spend much of his time with you just watching television.

His favorite series is True Detective, he just of the series, as I said, police investigation and antagonistic series, win him over quite easily, he would like you to watch it with him, if you don't like it that's ok, but the fact that he wants to share with you something that is maybe his favorite thing, no matter if he has already watched it with you he will watch it again.

He is not a movie man, he doesn't like movie theaters very much, it's noisy most of the time, everybody together in one place, he hates it, and he has no privacy at all, but his favorite movie would be Knives out, first because in a way, it reminds him a lot of his family, greedy bastards (he puts himself in the wheel) with some futile thoughts, and a patriarch that in his view, is weak, he also loves that everybody is suspicious, he even suspected the children, everybody, and was horrified by the ending.

fantasy | anime

Yes he is otaku yes you are otaku, yes you breathe anime and fantasy series and movies, Lucerys even before he met you always liked anime and fantasy in general mainly because it has an extra meaning in his life, even going beyond series and movies to books and manga, he always looked for it as a way to not only escape from his reality, but just the fact of knowing a new world already makes his eyes shine, he has this since he went to see the Lord of the Rings with Laenor and Jacaerys, maybe also because it was his father who introduced him to this whole world, for the first time maybe he found something they both had in common.

He is a fictionalized one I would say, owning several miniature and even life-size dolls, and when he met you he was honestly insecure as always about liking such things, maybe it was the first time he questioned his tastes, Aegon thought it was all childish and childish of course, and made bad jokes with him constantly for his entertainment, Aemond even not speaking much especially with the past disagreements that marked their relationship thinks the same as this, he knows that the only person who really understands him were his late father, and his brother.

So when you enjoyed and watched with him it honestly made your whole body hot, he would get so excited to talk to you about some movie, series or anime that came out, and LITERALLY beg you to watch it together, and it didn't take much, you would get into everything Luke proposed mainly because you were bewitched by his silly smile and growing excitement.

Obviously in terms of genre you may have disagreements, even though Luke consumes any kind of genre, but when you propose to watch something, it's with you or he won't even research it, he likes to have you by his side while you're surrounded by food, watching all the extended version Lord of the Rings movies, it is so much better than watching alone, he doesn't feel like he is renting someone else's time, seeing your own joy in being with him, and that is with everything, movies, books, manga HQ, anything you agree to watch together stays that way, and he gets so upset if you don't watch it without him, it is a betrayal! !!!

Just lots of kissing and hugging to make him forgive you, and it always works, ALWAYS.

He is the biggest nerd of course, he does cosplay and gets all silly when you do it with them seeing you guys as a couple, even though everyone thinks it's a bit childish, no one denies the fact that it's fucking adorable, and how much you compliment each other get into character.

Your favorite anime with are OP and Haikyuu even though he is a fucking sedentary of course, he made you watch all over a thousand episodes, he didn't have to ask much, your heart eyes convinced him and now you are cracking up you are like, yes watch 300 episode and he is like, yes there are 700 more to go love, but that's ok he went over everything with you.

He doesn't like it much but maybe "Your name" has become his favorite anime movie, not so much because of the characters but because of feeling that you would be his soulmate and that you would be that way connected for eternity, not only that, your dating ring is based a lot on the red thread, you don't like the movie either ( yes maybe I don't like your name and I'm representing that Sorry) but in your heart, you and Lucerys are soulmates.

His favorite fantasy movie is obviously Lord of the Rings, he might be a little bit in doubt because he is also an avatar freak, but without any doubt, Middle Earth is in his heart for the rest of his life, it's where his passion, his history started.

His favorite series is The witcher and they both agree that Henry Cavill is a hottie, yes he gets a bit teary eyed when you compliment him, but they have come to a consensus that this man was a sin on earth, and he turns a blind eye to your little fan attack, only to make you jealous when he drools over Yennefer.

#hotd #hotd x reader #reader #reader insert #house of the dragon x reader #aegon ii targaryen x reader #house of the dragon #aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen imagine #aegon the second #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys targaryen x reader #jacaerys targaryen #jacaerys x reader #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond one eye #aemond imagine #lucerys velaryon x reader #lucerys strong #lucerys targaryen #lucerys x reader

[nellasbookplanet]

Gotta love how, while Caleb and Essek are excellent mirrors and foils, they’re quite different in their similarities.

They’re both very high risk high reward type of people, but go about it in different ways. Essek is a planner. He acts from the safety of Rosohna, plays chess with entire nations and peoples as collateral. He thrives when in control, or under the illusion of control.

But when placed in the heat of the moment, facing the unexpected, he flails. When encountering the Nein while disguised he can't lie for shit. When hearing about Lucien and DeRogna he damn near has a panic attack and treats it with whiskey cocoa. When cornered by a yeti he raises his tiny wizard fists. He's visibly rattled when teleporting the Nein to face a dragon, even when he is nowhere near having to face it himself.

Caleb, meanwhile, has had to learn to think quick. Start a fight. Throw a fireball. Make a blood pact at the bottom of the sea. Pull out a stolen relic in the court of an enemy nation and wave it about. Full on cast teleport to cross a battlefield. Oops now he’s a sheep. Oh well.

He has a handful of panicky moments himself early campaign, but the longer things go on, the more calm and comfortable he gets with making absolutely batshit desicions with very little time to consider the consequences. And, notably, Essek quickly seems to be developing in the same direction. He broke time and space with a new and untested spell to give his friends a nap. As an adventurer he can no longer afford to be calculating in the way he used to be. However, I imagine there will be a bit of a learning curve. Question is, how many near heart attacks does Essek have in Eiselcross as Caleb wanders into danger with nary a thought time and again?

#essek is an 'I gotta plan 20 steps ahead' kind of risk taker #caleb is a 'throw a fireball and see what happens' kind of risk taker #essek when dragging caleb out of danger once again: 'WHY do you keep going into melee??' #critical role #cr2 #essek thelyss #caleb widogast #nella talks cr

[dekuscheripop]

HOW TO STEAL A MAN part 1

Bakugou Katsuki/Midoriya Izuku, Toga Himiko/Uraraka Ochako, Kaminari Denki/Kirishima Eijirou

Additional Tags:

Comedy, Romantic, Comedy, Drama, Slapstick, Single Parent Bakugou Katsuki, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - No Quirks (My Hero Academia), Stealing of body fluids, Out of Character, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Not Mpreg but with child, there is no cheating.

Single father Katsuki.

His son is 5 and a rascal that thinks he should have a lover because "Dada looks lonely."

His son ran off one day at the mall and after a panicked search the boy came back dragging someone in his tiny hands.

"Dada this one! This one, I found you a love love."

Katsuki sees shining emerald eyes and dusting of cocoa on cheeks

Katsuki sees Deku and wants to faint.

Deku was his first love, a love since kindergarten that never came to be. Especially since Deku migrated to America after they graduated college.

So back then Katsuki took whatever he could since he couldn't have Deku's love.

His sperm.

Katsuki had so secretly stolen sperm from Deku and brought it to a surrogate to have Deku's child.

Now here was Deku back after 5 years.

He was fucked for three good reasons, so so fucked because,

1 - his child looked so happy holding Deku's hand.

2 - Seeing Deku again after a long time made him realize he was still so in love with the damn nerd.

3 - Deku is already married.

He was standing behind the ice cream booth that had 201 flavors while in his hand was the god forsaken flavor of spicy chocolate mint cream that his son loves so much. The stuffed rabbit backpack that was too small and too tight over his shoulder looked so out of place along with the ice cream on him. There were the toilet papers on his other hand too.

To be fair Katsuki did not look his best today. It's supposed to be just a trip to the mall to buy toilet paper and some ice cream as per his son's request. Just an ordinary day, supposed to be an ordinary day.

So he wore his comfortable off white t-shirt that was already baconed on the collar and sleeves and his faded khaki cargo shorts, and the finale was the gift from Kirishima, red crocs shoes on his sock feet.

In short he looked like a disaster. At least his son looked cute in his black shirt under an orange overall.

Of all the days that he isn't in his suit and tie and leather shoes it had to be the day his son dragged his wet dream back into his life.

Deku. fucking Midoriya Izuku is hand in hand with his son. Fucking Midoriya Izuku at 5’11, in a tight black turtle neck long sleeve shirt and equally tight denim jeans. His wavy green hair in an undercut.

If Katsuki thought of him as a wet dream back in college then today it's a raging flood of a fantasy!

But his libido wasn't the main problem as of now. It's the fact that his son is with his biological dad! The one who Katsuki stole his sperm from!

Plus he looks like shit infront of his long time crush for fucks sake!

Katsuki is sweating buckets.

“Dada, I found you a love love!” His son, Kiyoshi, repeated, large red eyes shining and his freckled cheeks in a light blush on how happy he is.

“Love love? Well, aren't you cute for a kidnapper?”

Katsuki's knees buckled at the sweet yet deep voice, like smooth honey whiskey going down his throat and going right down his whole body. It's been so long since he heard that voice. Why the fuck is he salivating?

“You shouldn't be giving your dada any problems, little guy.” Deku kneels in front of Kiyoshi, patting his head with his big scarred hands.

Deku hasn't seen him yet.

Maybe if he grabs his son and runs like mad he can save himself.

“Let's go say sorry to your dad now.” Deku stood up and faced him and those emerald eyes grew wide.

It was too late.

“Kacchan?”

Deku saw him in all his ugly glory.

Fuck. Great tutuly dudally fuck.

“Deku.” The name slips out of his mouth easily.

“Hi. It's been so long.” Still holding Kiyohi's hand, Deku walks towards him, it was a picture scene. Green wavy hair with blonde wavy hair, green doe eyes with red doe eyes and the same flock of freckles on fair skin, hand and hand walking towards him.

It was overwhelming.

Deku was in front of him now, Katsuki felt giddy. He likes to deny the fact that he is thrilled that he was still taller than Deku by half a head.

“How have you been?” He asked, looking up at Katsuki with the happiest smile.

“I'm good.” He could only reply courtly, scared that he might blurt out something wrong. He hopes his expression was giving him away.

“Yeah I can see that.” Deku says, still not removing eye contact.

Katsuki winces at his comment. What part of him looked good damn it. If anyone looks good here it's Deku and damn does he look way too fine.

Their eyes are stuck on each other, drawn in as if they were the only ones in the world.

Time seemed to have stopped as he stared into those deep pools of liquid emerald eyes.

“Dada?”

The small voice cut them off whatever trance they had.

Deku looks down at the small hand tugging at him. Katsuki could have sworn there was a flicker in his eyes. On edge and muscles tense, Katsuki becomes nervous. Did Deku notice? Did he figure it out?

“So this is your son?” Deku asked, bending down and lifting up the small child into his arms. Katsuki felt his heart constrict painfully just looking at them. There was something growing inside, something heavy and bitter, guilt.

“Yeah! I’m Dada’s but with no Mama! So Dada is lonely, so mister needs to be with dada so he won't be lonely!” Kiyoshi lifts his hands up in declaration in a loud voice.

“Oi brat!” Katsuki reprimanded his son, his face was burning red from embarrassment.

He takes him from Deku’s arms and scolds him but the small child just huffed.

“But it's true. Dada is lonely.”

“Where did you learn to talk back?”

The two bickered back and forth like both were like small children.

There was a melodious sound of laughter coming just beside him. Deku was laughing hard, almost hunched over holding his stomach.

“He’s definitely your son Kacchan. He’s just like you.” Straightening himself up and wiping the tears from laughter from his eyes;

Deku pats Kiyoshi’s fluffy head. Kiyoshi preens at the attention.

The weird flicker in Deku's eyes was gone, he seems to be more happy after all that laughter.

“Mister mister I like you! I think Dada will like you too so you need to-mmph.” Katsuki stops his sons from talking,

muffling his mouth gently as he could but god damn it why is his child such a loud mouth?

"Ok." He says with a drawn out voice. "It was nice seeing yah but we gotta go. This guy needs to poop. So bye." Katsuki hurriedly turns around, not caring for Kiyoshi's muffled protest

and not even looking at Deku's eyes as he tries to speed walk away from his biggest problem.

"Kacchan wait!"

Katsuki does not. He walks faster.

It should be fine. Deku would probably go back to the US soon and they won't meet up every again.

It hurts to think about it but it would be a disaster if he stayed.

"I've transferred back here for work. So I hope I'll be seeing you often, Kacchan!"

Oh fuck. Great tutuly dudally fuck.

-

-

She just wanted to enjoy her fresh hot Takoyaki. Delicious Takoyaki. Just what she wanted and just what she craved. It was the last piece.

Picking it up with her chopsticks towards her awaiting mouth. A perfect treat.

Her door flew open with a bang.

"Ochako!"

"Ahhhhh!"

Bang went to the door and bang went over her nerves from too much coffee this morning. Up her Tokoyaki went to the ceiling and stayed there like a half disco ball of carbs and octopus meat.

The two people stare at the new decor impassively then stare at each other.

"You owe me."

"Whatever! I have a bigger problem!"

What could be more of a bigger problem than her food!

"You owe me an order of Takoyaki!"

"Alright alright! I'll buy you one later. Just listen to me!"

"No later. Now!" She was really pissed. That was her last ball with the biggest piece of octopus and the most sauce!

"Oh my god, fine. It's just at the corner anyway. Just listen, yah."

They walked out of her house. Ochaco was still angry and puffed her cheeks.

She really wanted that last price but instantly felt better at the prospect of a new batch.

"So what's this all about barging into my place?" He asked as they were about to make a turn at a corner.

There was a deep exhale and that's when Ochaco knew this wasn't just something trivial.

"He's back."

"Huh?"

"Deku's back!" Her best friend Bakugou Katsuki almost screamed.

Stopped, frozen and wide eyed.

"No."

"Yes."

"Oh my god. You are fucked! And I don't mean it in the oohh ahhhh kind!"

"Shut up!"

Ohhh but how could she shut up? Katsuki was having a life crisis while Ochako… Ochaco was having the time of her life!

"I told you this was gonna bite you back in the ass!"

She had long warned him way back after Katsuki suddenly barged into her home with an ice box and eyes crazy wide.

///"I stole his sperm!"///

Damn if that didn't traumatize her. Thank heavens she vehemently refused to be the surrogate mom for his craziness.

The surrogate was someone abroad that this crazy ass rich bastard paid millions on.

But don't get her wrong, she loves Kiyoshi with all her heart but damn if she hadn't been waiting for this moment to arrive.

"I told you so."

Oh how it felt good to finally say those words. She is having a blast.

"Shut up. I thought this was never going to happen!"

Ochaco beckoned Katsuki to start walking again. He still owes Takoyaki after a.

"Pfft. Now what are you going to do? He's married already isn't he?"

"That's what I heard. Ochako I-"

"Kacchan."

Kacchan?

Ochaco sees Katsuki turn deathly pale then to a light pink, pink, darker pink to a deep blush.

She looked straight ahead and just before the Takoyaki booth was a man so fine she wanted to sing a damn gravy tik tok song out loud.

Wait, did Katsuki just say Deku?

Her round eyes were about to bulge out of their sockets. This guy was Midoriya Izuku a.k.a. Deku.

No wonder he stole sperm from this guy! He's hot as fuck. Ochaco would too if she wasn't a full out lesbian.

"You're here for Takoyaki too? The booth is still here after all these years huh. Just like back in highschool we used to eat here often."

The Deku guy passed by Ochaco and went straight for Katsuki. It was like he didn't see him at all.

"Deku." Was all Katsuki said. Ochaco stared hard at the wobbly expression her best friend had. She wished she could take a photo but she left her phone at home. Damn.

"I didn't get to ask earlier but I was wondering if you would have dinner with me this Friday? Just to catch up on everything."

She saw how Katsuki's normal mean eyes were wide like saucers.

"You can bring Kiyoshi with you. He is so adorable."

How his brows shut up and how the normal loud and rude Katsuki was silent with his long term crush being so near. It was a disaster.

Ochaco was living for it. Her smile was so self satisfied.

"Can we Kacchan? For old times sake?"

Katsuki was about to faint. Deku grabbed his hands with his own.

"Please." And gave him the puppy dog eyes.

He was doomed.

He nodded.

He was so fucking doomed.

"Thank you Kacchan." Deku still hasn't let go of Katsuki's hand, instead he gave him a brightest purest smile.

Ochaco and Katsuki were blinded. Damn gravy so clean and delicious! Oh but this one does have a missus. Too bad.

Ochaco will just have to appreciate the disaster truck of her best friend as it is.

"Oh you have someone with you."

Deku finally notices her and all she could do was smile even though she was completely ignored just earlier.

"I'm Midoriya Izuku and you are?" Deku raised his hand to shake in introduction.

"Ah I am-"

"She's Uraraka Ochaco!"

Ochaco had pulled away and was now in front of Katsuki as he had grabbed her arms. Showing her off to Deku like some kind of livestock.

"She's Kiyoshi's mom! So she has to come with us to dinner with Kiyoshi!"

The Takoyaki vendor dropped a ball on the pavement. So did Ochako's jaw.

She was frozen but slowly her head turned behind Katsuki, her soon to be ex best friend

The guy just mouthed sorry at her.

"Oh. I see."

She turns back to the sound of Deku and froze up like a rock during winter.

His bright green eyes have turned dark all the while looking at her. What is that?!

Oh great tutuly dudally fuck.

She is going to kill Katsuki.

TBC.

#bakudeku #bkdk fic #bnha bkdk #ktdk #Deku #Kacchan #Izuku #Katsuki #How to Steal a Man bkdk