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neuvilette-tea-party · 6 months ago

Text

｡ﾟ•┈୨ Le temps de guérir Part 2 ୧┈• ｡ﾟ

Steb x F!reader

Part 1

It's been 3 weeks sicne you Steb tried to kiss you and vanished without another word, leaving without any signs of life. You see him outside in the rain through your windows, lost with a large backpack. Where is he going?

Tags: pining, Steb definitely has guilt and PTSD, slow burn, forced proximity, movie night, domestic, tension, suggestive towards the end

Request open for Best boy Steb <3

You sip your fuming drink with delight, thunder rumbling and neverending rain hitting the glass while you read your novel, seated at the window of your small house. This is small, but it is yours. Squeezed between two larger buildings, ready to crumble, cramped but this it’s your nest.

You turn the page with another sip as lightning tears the sky apart, prompting you to look outside, observing Piltover, destroyed but still standing. You lay your forehead against the glass, thinking about all the habitants whose houses have been destroyed during the battle and are sleeping in a shelter or on the streets tonight... You feel your throat tightening under your incapacity to help them all.

What are you for as an enforcer if you can’t even help the population efficiently?

The wounded population came back under control allowing you to volunteer to help the teams rebuild the city, leaving patient care to proper doctors and nurses. This week of groceries has been offered to you by a market gardener whom you helped rebuild the shop. You would have been content with a simple “thank you” and shaking hands, but free food is free food and you do not have the paycheck to pass such an offer.

Your eyes travel your street, seeing the people walking hurriedly under the rain, with an umbrella or not. A stray cat rushes past the corner of the street to disappear farther into the tighter streets of the poorer neighborhoods of Piltover.

Not that yours is rich by any measure...

You sigh. You have not taken time to rest since the end of the war as you feel like there is still so much to do, making all your previous efforts and accomplishments feel... insignificant. Discouraged you let your head rest against the window, letting your gaze get lost...

You frown, is that Steb in the street down there?

You press yourself against the window and focus on the silhouette... That is definitely him! Why is he here? You have not seen him since that day he tried to kiss you and then... vanished.

You’re relieved to see him in... arguably better health than when you dressed his wounds, but you feel a bit angry at him!

He seems to be searching his way with a bag on his back...

Without any second thought, you jump on your feet, running down your stairs to your door, and open it with difficulties against the wind. You run to him. His ears perk up at your steps and he turns to face you.

“What in the seven hells are you doing alone in the rain like that, Steb?!” You shout for him to hear you over the thunder and the rain.

He looks at you up and down in surprise and his gaze rapidly comes back to your face. His ears and cheek scales shake. You lower your eyes to look at yourself, realizing you left your house with almost nothing on your back: short pajamas, and a thin dressing gown.

Neither are meant to sustain the rain.

You growl and slap his arm for even looking, making him frown, offended.

“Why are you out during your remission Steb? Why are you... Nevermind! Come here!” You grab his arm and pull him inside your little house, not leaving him the choice.

You growl as you force your door close shut! Stupid old house! You sneeze hard, wet and cold, but inside! Steb remains still like a cone in the entrance, dripping on your carpet, but more warmly clothed in his Enforcer uniform.

He looks around with polite curiosity, detailing the passed wallpaper; the old-style mirror, the shoes on the ground; the huge dresser taking place in the cramped entrance… He is almost too tall to stand straight inside.

You sneeze again, prompting him to turn to you with worry in his gaze, but you’re the one who should be worried about this... IDIOT! You take his hand and pull him into the small living room, releasing him to pull a tissue out of a box, and sneeze once more.

Steb takes some steps in the living room, observing the pictures on the wall, the small, cold open fire, the plants, the used sofa, the rickety bookcase, and the table with four chairs next to your kitchenette. Your little nest...

“Steb...” You call, making him turn to you, “Where did you go wounded like that? I ran through all the camps of Piltover. You were nowhere to be found!”

He lowers his gaze to the ground, his cheek scales waving once as he presses his lips tight.

“I was worried sick!” You continue, “I thought... I thought you did something really stupid!” You feel your voice crack as tears build up behind your eyes realizing how truly mad you were at him!

He raises his gaze back to you, filled with sorrow and regret. He hesitates and takes a step toward you, reaching out with his hand but you slap it away.

“I am MAD at you Steb!” You grit your teeth.

He lets his hand fall back to his side and you have a gut-wrenching feeling of deja vu. You pinch the bridge of your nose and take a deep breath.

Calm down...

“You have some explaining to do, Mister! But first...” You open a closet, rummage through it, and throw him a large towel that he expertly catches. “You will take a warm shower! You’re wet to the bone!”

He cocks his head at you with a raised eyebrow before repeating his error of looking down. He immediately turns his head away, fins and ears vibrating, and a delicate rosy shade spreading on his cheek.

You grumble and snap your fingers.

“To the shower, Mister!” You order.

He obediently nods and climbs the stairs to enter the bathroom.

You lower your gaze and gasp in shock!

The fabric leaves LITTLE to the imagination once wet! Thank the Gods you have undergaraments!

You instinctively cover your breast, alone in your living room, seething with embarrassment!

You take another towel and rush to your bedroom to wipe yourself dry and put on more modest clothes. You leave dry male clothes before the bathroom door for Steb to find.

You go back down and put some milk on a low boil. When Steb reappears you are pouring the thick hot chocolate in two cups that you put on the small table. You stop dead in your tracks when you see him

He looks 10 years younger in those relaxed clothes ...

He looks at you interrogatively, pulling on the collar of the white shirt.

“I think it’s my cousin’s.” You explain, trying to comfort him.

Comfort him? What’s it to him if those clothes belong to one of your sex friends anyway?! You mentally berate yourself as he nods silently.

“I put your bag on the Sofa.” You notify him, “Are the clothes okay with the gills?” You suddenly worry.

He nods once more, approaching the chairs. You push a cup to him and you both sit down, holding your own cup, both pairs of eyes glued to the table.

Embarassed.

The memory of the missed kiss replays in both of your minds, putting you on edge.

“Where did you go?” You finally ask, “I was terrified...”

He blinks his third eyelid, clearly not proud of himself before signing.

“The barracks? I did not have time to go there, indeed...” You nod, pressing your lips in a thin line.

You’ve been running between patient beds for three weeks and then go straight to helping the construction teams, you did not even have time to take your own stuff from the barracks for your current leave.

Your hands tense up around your cup.

Steb just signed.

He never signs for very short sentences... He always made an effort to speak despite the pain.

But not this time.

“Your wounds?” You inquire with a calm tone, but inside you shake like a leaf.

You nod as he informs you they are almost completely healed up, it is only a matter of days now. He signs a thank you for dressing them.

“Don’t mention it, you would have done the same for me.” You affably smile, “Where were you going at this hour under the rain, Steb?”

He stands up to open his bag, taking out a folded sheet of paper that he hands you, sitting back down.

“A shelter?” You raise your eyes to him, tension visible on your face, “Why would you need to go to a shelter?”

His shoulders lower slightly before explaining.

“Oh... No. Steb I am so sorry for your house... Is your family okay at least?”

He blinks at you, interrogation in his eyes.

“You spouse? Your siblings? Parents?”

He shakes his head, moving his hands.

“I... always thought you were married.” You admit, biting your lower lips as you feel a bit stupid.

He gives you the same interrogative expression again.

“I don’t know. You look like a man who has his life sorted out, I imagined you coming home to your family once the evening came...”

He shrugs.

Evidently, he came home to an empty house once his shift was done. Just like you...

“And now that your leave has come, you cannot stay in the barracks...” You put two and two together, massaging one temple before sighing, “You should remain here. It’s a bit cramped for two but we should manage.”

He immediately frowns and shakes his head. If you did not know him you would thought he took offense to your proposition, but knowing him he must worry about you first, a single woman inviting a simple colleague to live with her like that...

“Steb, the shelters are full to the brim, aren’t properly heated, and have difficulties providing three meals a day right now. I am not letting you go back into the streets like that! I have a sofa bed, it’s not the high of luxury but I would feel better knowing you have a real roof over your head.”

He gulps, not really on board but evaluating his options.

“Plus you will need a workstation if you want to join the insurance for your house and shelters don’t have those.” You hammer home.

He closes his eyes, like he is about to make a decision he will regret, looks back at you, and nods.

“Great...” You nod weakly, “Good...” You finish your cup in one go and slam it on the table, “I need to grab something.”

Steb silently observes you skirting the table and leaving the room as you rush up the stairs. You close the door of your bedroom and lay against it, pressing your hand against your eyes.

‘The fuck are you doing, you idiot?’ you ask yourself.

You reject him and then invite him to live at your place for a time?

But you could not just leave him like that! What kind of friend would you be? You tap your cheeks repeatedly and take a big breath.

It’s just for a short period, you rationalize! It’s gonna be weird but it will be short!

You reenter the living room and discover Steb cleaning the cups in the sink. He turns to you as he hears your steps, wiping a cup with a dish towel. You look into each other’s eyes for several seconds before you both turn away, embarrassed.

You feel your cheeks heating dangerously as his ear tips shake...

“I’ll open the couch for you.” You clear your throat.

You turn the screws for it to unfold but when you pull on the sits you pinch your skin between metal bars, making you yelp in pain and surprise. Your finger is now bleeding! You try to shake it to numb the pain but Steb arrives at your side, taking your hand gently in his to observe more closely.

“I pinched my skin.” You explain, baffled by your clumsiness.

He takes a box of band-aids out of his bag and you refrain from chuckling! You’ve been doing the exact same since you became an official Medic: boxes of band-aids in every bag and pocket!

He wraps your finger cautiously and considers it for a small moment before raising it to his lips and gently kissing it like he would console a child.

Like it just down on him, he takes your hand away hurriedly with a shocked expression, the rosy shade spreading again while you open your mouth slightly agape, a tight knot in your stomach.

“Thanks, Steb...” You finally manage to speak “I... You can finish the bed while I cook us a quick meal? There are pillows and sheets in this closet.”

He gulps and nods, releasing your hand entirely.

You slightly tremble as you cut the vegetables, remembering his tall, half-naked body against yours under that tent... The fire between your legs and the utter confusion in your head.

He looked so lost...

You shake your head. Steb was wounded and in shock and you were most likely the first person to extend your hand to him at that moment and he simply forgot himself!

Your desires and silly dreams do not matter, you should focus on offering him a solid shoulder to lay against! His recovery should be your sole focus!

You turn toward him with a wide smile and a voice full of enthusiasm! Too much to be honest...

“I hope you are hungry!”

He looks at you a bit confused as to where this sudden energy comes from all of a sudden! You pour your stew into two large plates, add a bowl of diced cheese, and one of chips, and bring the tray to the sofa bed.

“Apparently this is a special soiree, they broadcast only old B horror movies tonight on the third channel! Tempted?” You ask Steb with a little grin and a beating heart.

Steb cocks his head, interested.

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

The fire burns gently as you snack on the cheese, while Steb eats his stew slowly with small spoonfuls, watching the classics of the genre. He slowly relaxes, laying back, combing his fingers through his hair, and tilting his head to the curious creature's designs. You hand him the chips bowl, that he refuses, shaking his hand.

“The remasters aren’t that good! For those results, they should let us enjoy the queerness of the originals!” You comment, making Steb slightly chuckle and nod in agreement.

The movies are old but the grains have been forcefully smoothened and the restored sound rings bizarrely.

Steb lays back, picking cheese dice from time to time, both focused on your old TV post. You comment from time to time at the absurdity of the scenarios, earning a chuckle from your former mentor. You realize he is a movie enthusiast and knows a lot about all those movies, telling you how they made that effect, why they chose this instrument for this scene, etc...

At some point, you are more looking at him signing than the screen, kicking your feet with a smile, hypnotized by the Vastaya! It is pleasant and you cannot help yourself but look at his gorgeous face illuminated with amusement.

Too lost in the enthusiasm your hands brush inadvertently when you try to pick some cheese.

You both look at each other, frozen before you take off your hand while Steb looks a bit confounded.

“Sorry.” You clear your throat.

He gently shakes his head and resumes watching, stopping his info dump but ears shaking a bit.

You focus hard on the movies, you cannot look at him, too embarrassed.

You try to be relaxed but he is just so close to you, and each time he enters your vision you have a flash of his lips right above yours, patiently waiting to press them tenderly together.

You craved it childishly for two whole years...

You mentally slap yourself.

The next movie is... an experience, that’s for sure.

‘Creature from the Black Lagoon of the Shadow isles.’

That’s a mouthful.

You’ve never seen the movie but Steb is familiar with the synopsis, it dates back to the very first Vastayas, when the rest of humanity was not prepared for them and looked at them with some fear and suspicion.

In this one, a first-generation Aquatic Vastaya captures a woman after getting smitten with her.

A B movie through and through.

But Steb explains to you this movie was in fact created by a Vastaya ally and wanted to show them in a new light.

Still with the baggage and bigotry of the times, you cannot help but notice as the creature appears for the first time... You Steb explains that it was a pioneer of the genre and Vastaya’s held it long likea conerstone of their movement for equality, and it is still dearly regarded in his community.

“Do you still to watch it then? Since you already know it?” You ask.

He nods frankly informing you that he never watched in its entirety before.

You cringe several times at some dated and now offensive jokes but Steb just... starts laughing. You look at him hiding his mouth behind his hand as his shoulders shake, holding his side. He lets himself fall down on the sofa-bed as his chest trembles with clear laughter. You look at him curious before he starts to sign, his hands still shaking.

“Oh, the design of the creature is wrong!” You understand, looking back at the weirdly shaped Manfish, “That much?” you turn to Steb again.

He nods, trying to catch his breath with a deep sigh.

“I mean, it’s true you do not look alike at all. You are way more elegant and-” You almost say handsome but bite your lips into silence before putting your foot in it!

He raises his head, looking at you with the remnant of his laughterstill shaking his shoulders and questions in his blue eyes.

“I didn’t say anything.” You pretend, ostensibly turning towards the TV post.

He raises back in a sitting position, way more relaxed and jovial once again, his face much looser and with a tight mocking smile. He is way more interested in this movie than the other. You observe him with a side glance, how he shakes his head with playful disagreement, and how he giggly winces.

At least one of you is pleased.

You devour your chips bowl as more and more misadventures happen to the scientific crew researching the Fishman until he gets his hand on the woman.

When he catches her in his cave, the ambiance changes drastically.

Is it the change in the lighting, the way the actress crosses her legs in this tiny bikini, the music much more subdued and lascivious, but suddenly you are not watching a horror movie anymore...

But a completely different genre!

You clear your throat as the creature stands proud before the woman, towering like a predator over her. But she does not look frightened, she smiles, a cheeky grin, brushing her naked legs together suggestively as an oriental flute starts with slow percussions.

What... What are you watching exactly?

Steb tilts his head slowly to the side, as lost as you are as the Fisman approaches his victim, his hands gently parting her legs open and delicately caressing the skin from her ankles to her thighs.

“Huuuuuuuuh...” You let out, a bit frightened by what you are seeing on your tv.

The music picks up as the Vastaya plays with the hem of the bikini, letting it slap the skin of her stomach while she chuckles playfully.

You frown more and more, petrified. Should you be watching that with Steb next to you?

When did the transmission change from old duds to erotic tapes? The creature waves over the body of his partner, as she arches her back in an almost pornographic way, making you dig your nails into the small pillow you are holding, your breath escaping you.

The Vastaya’s clawed hand brushes the neck of the woman who throws her head back, lowering to her breast, pulling the top, threatening to tear it apart like paper.

You’re about to scream when the Fishman starts pulling the panties off but the post suddenly cuts to black. Your scream is blocked in your throat, wondering what just happened when you hear a quick respiration next to you. You turn your head to Steb who lowers his hand holding the remote, taking deep breathes, as confused as you are.

His large chest rises up and down in an impressive fashion while his fins tremble, proof of inner turmoil and raging emotions.

“Good idea, Steb. It is very late, we should be sleeping already!” You declare jumping on your feet to tidy up the plates and exit the room rapidly.

You cannot look at each other, you would implode under the tension. You throw the plates in the sink and hurry to the door as quickly as you can.

“Goodnight, Steb!” You throw, litteraly fleeing the scene.

You run to the upper floor, putting as much distance between you two as you can before taking a deep breath at the top of the stairs.

You will give it to the movie, they did sensual and intimate way better than a ton of pornographic content you had the occasion to consume!

But it had to be this film! With these characters! With him next to you!

You suddenly wonder if a deity just decided to play with your nerves and put you in situations for their own enjoyment.

You sigh entering your bathroom to freshen up, splashing water to your face. When you reopen your eyes, you notice Steb’s uniform hanging in the back to dry. You approach to admire it, his higher rank plake shining on his chest with... medals?

You squint, taking a closer look.

Steb earned a medal for his actions during the battle, and while you will never take that away from him, you cannot help but admire the irony of the situation

Steb the decorated hero is in the streets, without a roof over his head because his house was destroyed.

You sniff, Piltover fell so low! It is infuriating!

And dishonoring for him!

You should keep your head on your shoulders and focus on helping him instead of dreaming like a child!

That said, it was hard to keep the memory of that day under the tent at bay, knowing that the man of your dream in sleeping in your living room.

Still feeling the ghost of his touch on your skin...

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

Steb sighs deeply, trying to calm down the beating of his heart.

He had to stop the movie, he could not watch a second more, not so close to you! It was beyond him!

He often wondered why his parents always cut the film when he was around in his childhood. He does not wonder anymore, and he would have liked to discover it on his own and not pressed against your warm body, when each of his breaths is filled with your scent, getting to his head.

He sighs again, wondering where all of his self-control went... He just loses it around you.

He had time to think about his actions, about that day...

He was not in his normal state and was desperately searching for a gentle hand.

He found you.

He berated himself a lot during those three weeks, he was convinced he deeply shocked you that day and that you were deeply angry at him for trespassing the limits of your relationship. Hr first thought it was shock speaking and he would have tried with anyone else.

But

But he caught himself thinking back at the softness of your skin in his hands, the plump of your parted lips he wanted to taste at least once... Memories of your training under his tutelage coming back to him, comforting his shaken heart full of doubt.

At least you

At least you were all right

He did not lose everything in this senseless war. Someone was still at his side, even if you were mad at him.

He buries his nose under the cover you provided him. This too smells just like you...

It pierces his heart a million ways, but he likes it deep down.

He brushes his cheek against the fabric, letting the scent invading his lungs gently...

He closes his eyes, surrounded by your reassuring and warm presence, in some form of peace for the first time in weeks...

☆TagList☆

@aecarstairs @wiltyard @sanktastuff @mahirublue @chocalycake @rositabluemoon @blackwoodwinter @archangel1206 @marshallowy @crimson23capricorn @m0na-lis4 @chjopchjop @editedjeans @joshuhaos @dulcecita-luzita @cyberneticfrk @nottherealamber @dance-like-russia-isnt-watching

#steb #steb my love #steb imagine #steb x reader #steb arcane #arcane imagine #steb fics #arcane fics #arcane x reader #fanfic #neuvilette tea party

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lsunstreakerl · 1 month ago

Note

Making my way through your o!dark bull tag and was just wondering about that ai if Charles didn’t mate Max at his first heat? Just how insane would he go trying to find that finishing school and getting Max as his omega even then 😭

I got a couple requests for o!darkbull, so even though this was sent slightly outside of the kink prompt window, I'll be using your ask for the ficlet! 4.6k words, charles POV, explicit, dead dove. (slightly.)

parings: charles leclerc/max verstappen

relevant heads up: tags below the cut, and also it's darkbull. if you're new to darkbull, don't start here <3

dead dove: omegaverse, omegas as subhuman (bought/sold) w little/no rights, no discussion of consent, dubcon/noncon due to charles ignoring max asking to wait, drugging.

Charles never stops looking.

From the first race that Max misses, with no word and no way to contact him, Charles knows something is wrong. The other kids say that maybe he's sick, but Charles knows better.

Max would never miss a race.

Charles checks every category, wobbles his way through shaky conversations in languages he doesn't speak, spends weeks trying to figure out where else Max possibly could have gone.

Pierre calls him obsessed, but that's not quite it— Max is Charles' rival. How are they supposed to be rivals if he's gone?

Lorenzo eventually pulls him aside, plopping him in the chair in Papa's office, leaning against the desk. Papa is looking at him gently, squeezing his fingers.

"Do you want us to find him?"

Obviously. If Max has quit racing, Charles will just fly out there himself and drag him back onto the track. He can't imagine Max in the normal world— the other boy belongs in fireproofs and a helmet, talking at Charles about track temp. Anything else is just wrong.

------

Lorenzo pulls him aside a week later, while Charles is kicking Arthur's ass in a video game. He brings them back into the office, although Papa is out on business.

Charles doesn't understand at first. Max isn't—

He's the furthest from omega that Charles has ever met, but that's what Lorenzo is trying to tell him, that Max had presented, that he'd been sold off to a finishing school.

The words aren't making sense. Charles understands the concept of a finishing school, of course— freshly presented omegas learn how to be ideal mates— but he can't imagine any of that applying to Max. Rough, aggressive on track Max, who's always taken advantage of every bit of space he's given.

He'd thought for sure Max was going to be an alpha. The thought of him as an omega, and what the presentation must have been like...

Charles has seen Jos. There's no possible way that Max had a nest, or anyone checking on him— and if he's been sold to a finishing school, it means he hadn't gotten any help for his heat either. They're strict about that kind of thing.

If it's true, then it means Max will never touch a kart again. He won't race, he won't be Charles' rival, he won't see him again. Charles needs to forget about him.

------

He tries.

------

Charles destroys his room on his next rut. His bed is a mess, rips down the sheets and holes in the pillows from his teeth. It's worse than his presentation rut had been, which is... not what's supposed to happen.

Papa calls in their home doctor, someone he knows from work, and the older alpha pokes and prods at Charles. He takes blood and saliva, tests his reflexes, and asks if he remembers anything from his rut.

Charles almost says no— but it's not true. He has flashes of blonde, snippets of a lisp and pale skin, remembers the freckle on his lip.

He tells the doctor he was thinking about a boy from karting that he hadn't spoken to in months. A boy he didn't even see after he presented as an omega.

The doctor makes considering noises, poking at him a few more times before leaving. Lorenzo is concerned, Arthur is laughing that he's broken, Papa is annoyed about the destruction, and Maman is more than happy to still let Charles rest his head in her lap.

------

Charles has attachment syndrome. It's not anything terrible, or even really that bad— it just complicates things. His body has decided that he has an omega already, they're just not mated yet, and his rut addled brain just wants to fix that.

Papa and Lorenzo have a few hushed talks before they sit Charles back down. They tell him he can have Max when he's done with finishing school, as long as Charles does well karting and stays on top of his studies. He'll be expected to help manage the family business when he's a bit older, so having a solid educational background is more important than he'd like it to be.

They also tell him they'll try and get some of Max's things from the finishing school before Charles' ruts, and that the school will be informed. He doesn't entirely understand, because he wasn't aware you could preorder a mate, but that's what it feels like.

------

Two weeks later, he spots a fancy letter on the table. The postage is from Switzerland, and he's only confused for a moment before he realizes that it must be the finishing school. He's too excited to remember the house rules, running with it up to the office, bursting through the door—

Papa has a gun pointed at another man.

------

Apparently, Charles is in the mafia.

------

He starts the family business early. Between karting and studying, his thoughts about Max are less frequent than they had been, but they're still a constant in his life. He'll be eating breakfast and wondering what Max is having, he'll pass the stores when he's out with Papa and Maman and wonder if Max likes the new omega styles.

He gets his first tattoos inked into his skin, learns how to tell when people are counting cards, and chops off someone's hand.

His rut catches him slightly by surprise, and poor Arthur gets the brunt of his short temper before he's sent up to his room, but Lorenzo brings him a vacuum sealed package, leaning against the doorframe.

"Just so you know, Max is earmarked for you, but you're still going to have to bid on him. Papa and I decided to let you have control over one of the clubs for the next few months, and however much you make from it is the bidding money you get."

Charles swallows, nodding. He can make enough money from one of the clubs, that's easy— as long as there's nobody else with deep pockets that wants his omega. Lorenzo tosses him the package.

"Courtesy of the school, for your 'medical needs'."

He leaves before Charles can say thank you, and he tears in the package with his nails. The scent that hits him sends his head reeling, and he's pulling the clothes out, burying his nose in them and letting the scent fill his room. Max has low, rich notes to his scent, but there's a tinge of sweetness lingering at the edges.

He's hard already, the haze of the rut creeping across him, but it doesn't feel as violent as before— just a desperate need to get off.

------

He doesn't remember much from this rut either. It breaks while he's knotted into a cocksleeve, teeth sunk into black fabric that smells sweeter than the other items. Closer inspection reveals it's a skirt, which has him rutting his hips into the bed, wishing more than anything that Max would be here, where Charles can get his hands on him.

He picks his way through the rest of the clothes. The school had sent him a soft cream sweater, saturated with Max's scent, particularly strong at the collar of it and the wrists, right where Max's scent glands are. He has a dress top, made of navy silk, and it takes him a few minutes to figure out how it would even be worn— there's too many holes and loose ends for it to make sense. They'd sent him a pillowcase as well, and Charles switches it with his own.

Being able to lay his head down and inhale Max's scent has him relaxed, allowing his mind to finally settle for what feels like the first time in years.

The idea that this will be constant for him soon— it makes him excited. He's started looking at places in Monaco, somewhere for Max to have a pretty nest for him to come home too, and lots of space for the eventual trophy wall he's going to need.

Just a few more months.

------

Charles runs the club like his life depends on it. When he's not karting, he's in the back. He more than doubles profits, brings in new customers, and makes it very clear how important it is to him that things run smoothly. The digits in his bank account steadily increase, and so does his reputation. He has three new tattoos and a contract with Sauber by the time he's twenty.

Max graduates in four weeks, and Charles bites his nails down to the quick waiting for his invitation to the auction. He's got the keys to their new flat, and he'd paid a service to deliver plenty of nest building materials. He's been nervous shopping, buying pretty things off the rack that he thinks Max will look good in, and the jewelry drawer at the new flat is worryingly full already.

He has four different collars ready, unsure which will look best on his omega, but he wants to be prepared for anything. Arthur has relentlessly been making fun of him, and Lorenzo had taken him out to buy a new suit for the auction.

Charles knows nobody else is going to get Max, but the anxiety still gnaws at him, grating against his nerves for weeks.

------

The finishing school is beautiful. It's up in the mountains, and the large glass windows sparkle in the late evening. Everything about it reminds him of elegance and grace, and the entire campus feels distinctly omega. It's a space designed for training them, so he's not entirely surprised, but it's still awe inspiring to see in person.

The chauffeur lets him step out in front of the reception hall, and he feels his nerves sink away. He has more money than he knows what to do with readily available, his rings are cool against his fingers, and Max is somewhere on the other side of the doors. All Charles needs to do is bid, and then he and Max will be able to head home back to Monaco.

He's got plans.

------

There's a few alphas here Charles knows— high profile people he's met at events and galas, and several alphas closer to his age that he strikes up casual conversation with. It's supposed to be a blind auction, where nobody knows who the omegas are, but Charles knows.

Max is one of the last three, top of his class, and projected to be extremely expensive. Charles isn't too worried— if you have the winning bid, you're not allowed to bid on any others, but everyone knows the best of the group are towards the end.

That doesn't stop the first few omegas from having bidding wars over them. Charles doesn't pay them much mind, because they're not who he wants, but he admires their grace, the perfect posture and pink cheeks. He's done his own research over the last few months, found that this school is one of the best in the world, and the money being laid down tonight reflects that.

He sips on his drink as he waits. The younger alphas he'd been chatting with all secure winning bids, and he sees a few of the older alphas he's familiar with bid closer to the middle as well.

He sits up straighter when they call Max's name. He swears that he can pick up his scent, even from the across the room, and his heart is beating in his chest as the first bids go in. He waits, letting the numbers climb higher and higher, looking closely at Max. His walk is steady across the stage, and he settles easily on the stool, one ankle lightly crossing in front of the other.

His chin is lifted, and he's slightly different from the others so far— Charles realizes a moment later it's because he's holding eye contact. There's something unyielding about him even now, and he faintly registers the bids starting to slow down before he finally lifts his own, adding his name to the ring.

The numbers climb to a dizzying height, but seeing Max in person, years after he'd lost him... it's better than any drug. There's a brief bidding war between Charles and an older alpha, but he comes out ahead, and when the gavel strikes he feels a deep sense of satisfaction.

Max is his now, the way he's supposed to be. For good.

------

Charles is given the keys to a private holding room where they've set up Max and his things, should Charles want him to keep them. He's also given instructions to call the chauffeur whenever he's ready to leave— which will be sooner, rather than later.

There's a private jet waiting at the nearest airport, ready to take them back to Nice as soon as possible.

He straightens the sleeves of his suit before stepping into the room. Max is waiting, kneeling on the middle of the floor. His hands are folded neatly behind his back, head tipped down to expose the back of his neck, and—

It feels wrong. It's not Max, not the way Charles knew him, not the way Charles wants him. He can smell him, no trace of the softer notes of his scent, but he's doing a good job masking whatever his actual feelings are.

His scent is perfectly mild. Submissive.

Charles brushes his fingers lightly against his hair before he lowers himself close to the ground, resting on one knee. Max blinks, but otherwise doesn't have a reaction, eyes downcast.

"Max."

He still won't look at him.

"Alpha."

His voice barely has any trace of his lisp, and he'd spoken softly, pitching his voice quieter than Charles. If he didn't know better, he'd think it isn't Max at all, but he'd seen him on stage, staring back at them defiantly. There's a freckle just above his lip, exactly where Charles remembers it.

"Max, it's me. We're going home tonight, back to Monaco."

There's the slightest shift in Max's scent— so brief Charles isn't sure if he's imagined it or not.

"Yes, alpha."

Charles clenches his jaw. He needs to get them out of the unfamiliar environment, back onto his jet and then into their flat. Somewhere where Max knows it's just them.

He stands, taking a step back. Max doesn't have many things, just a singular duffel and a small suitcase near the door. They'll take it home with them.

"Follow me, please."

Max doesn't respond, but he stands smoothly, even though he'd been kneeling on unforgiving hardwood. He stays close to Charles, at his right and exactly a step behind him the entire time.

Charles' steps stutter at a split in the hallway, unable to remember which direction he'd come from, and he hears Max's voice soft behind him.

"The chauffeur pick up is to the left, alpha. Kitchens are on the right."

Charles goes left. Max doesn't offer any further help.

------

There's a nesting space in the back of the jet, a recent addition that Charles had almost forgotten about. He waits for their private section to be sealed off before he pulls off his suit jacket, and he's about to toss it off onto one of the chair when it's lifted lightly from his hand instead, and Max hangs it up in the small closet with practiced motions.

He blinks.

"You don't have to do that, Max."

To his surprise, Max lifts his head, meeting his eyes with a frown.

"Would you rather it be somewhere else?"

"I just mean that I can handle my own jackets. You don't need to clean up after me."

Max's frown stays put, and there's a tiny flare of unease in his scent as he shifts on his feet before sinking to his knees in front of him.

"I'm here for whatever you need, alpha."

The ugly feeling in Charles gut curdles again. He doesn't want a picture perfect omega— if he did, he would've bid on one. He wants Max.

"Stay here."

"Yes alpha."

Charles makes his way to front of the cabin, promising extra wages and a paid vacation for the pilot if he can land them somewhere else short notice. It takes a few minutes of phone calls, but they make it work, and he navigates back to the private section.

Max is exactly where he'd left him, but there's an unhappy note in his scent, faint enough that if Charles hadn't spent the last six months with his nose buried in his things, he wouldn't have noticed.

"We're landing a bit early, sorry, I rerouted us to a different airport. There's a nest behind you, if you'd like to arrange it for the flight."

Max swallows.

"What would you prefer?"

Charles is frowning now, tapping out a text message on his phone. He wants more independence from Max, but he's getting the feeling that won't be as easy to coax back out as he'd hoped.

"The nest."

At least in a nest Max will be more comfortable than his knees.

------

Max won't sleep. There's hours left on their flight still, and while he's made an admittedly beautiful nest, he's simply watching Charles attentively, waiting for a command. It makes him uneasy, and he's not sure how long Max was awake before the auction, and for what they're doing—

He'd rather him be well rested.

It's easy enough to leave the private section again, opening the med kit and poking around before he finds what he's looking for. It's a liquid sleep aid, near impossible to taste, and he's going to put it in a sparkling water anyways.

He walks it back to the nest, passing the glass to Max.

"You hungry at all?"

Max takes the glass from him, and Charles notes that his nails are neat and blunt, well manicured.

"No, alpha."

They're going to need to break the alpha habit. Charles doesn't like how it makes him feel, and it's different than when people back home call him 'sir', because he's earned that title. The only thing he's earned over Max is that he presented differently.

He makes his way back to his seat, checking his emails as he watches Max out of the corner of his eye. It's a fast acting drug— Max is only halfway through the glass before his eyelids are dropping, and it's only a few minutes longer before he's curled in the nest, passed out.

Charles rumbles low in his chest, pleased.

Max's chest moves with steady breaths, scent mellowing out as he rests, and Charles watches him a moment longer before getting into his own bag, tugging out a collar. It's the lightweight version, still equipped with a tracking chip and identification, but it'll be more flexible around Max's neck. For what they're doing tonight, that's what he wants— and he'll put him in a heavier duty leather collar after he bites him.

Max is deadweight as Charles tilts his head up, getting the collar fastened. His neck would be thicker if he still raced, but he can't, and he feels precariously fragile under Charles' hands as he checks how tight it is.

Snug, but not too tight. The deep maroon looks good on him, and Charles is already thinking of the clothes he has back home and how they'll look on Max.

He runs a hand through his hair, fingers scratching into his scalp as he leans his head back against the wall, dozing off.

------

He's woken up as they start the descent, and it takes him a few minutes to get Max awake and aware— and even then, he's still slightly groggy. Charles makes a mental note that he's a lightweight. His blue eyes squint as he fights the lingers effects of the drug, and Charles helps him to his feet. There's a car waiting for them once they get out of the airport, and then they're headed to the track.

Max wakes up further during the car ride, folding his hands in his lap. He deliberately doesn't look at Charles or out the window, instead lowering his gaze, staring quietly at nothing.

Charles is not a fan of the complete submission— he's hoping this helps fix it, if only by dragging up Max's core, the things that make him Max, the things Charles know can't be erased, only buried.

Max must be watching out the window at least halfheartedly, because his scent spikes when they get onto track grounds, a soft hint of sweetness creeping through, and Charles has to hide his grin.

There's fireproofs laid out and waiting for them, race boots and gloves and helmets. The karts are at the entrance to the garage, prepped and ready for them both, and Charles leads Max into the shadowed corner of the garage.

Not that it particularly matters— he's had the cameras cut for the entire garage anyways.

Max is looking up at him confused, and Charles tugs gently at his shirt.

"Go on then, get changed. We only have a few hours."

This is also a lie, but Charles has plans for when they're done, and running illegal operations has taught him to be timely. Max nods, tugging his shirt off with a practiced motion, and Charles watches his waist, the curves of his chest.

He's lean, but he's filled out while he was in the school, and his chest almost makes Charles want to call the whole thing off, pin him to the floor and grope at his pretty tits forever.

He has plenty of time for that later. For now, he strips his own clothes, pulling the fireproofs on. It's nothing like his Ferrari set, but they do the job, and the bonus is that they look great on Max. There's a sweet scent starting to slowly permeate the air, and Charles is beginning to pick out the notes of tentative excitement.

He steps forward to help Max secure his helmet, and he feels deeply possessive as he secures the velcro across Max's neck, right above the maroon of his collar.

His omega.

"15 laps, everything is allowed, and there are no convenient puddles tonight."

Max's eyes scrunch briefly.

"Everything?"

"Yes, everything."

------

Charles isn't even sure he gets run off the road this much in sim racing— Max races exactly as hard as he remembers, and it's almost embarrassing that he's losing to an omega who hasn't been in a kart in years, until he remembers it's Max.

He loses. It's not by much, but it's enough that once he's pulled himself up out of the cart, he's already unstopping his helmet, herding Max back into the garage as he claws at the velcro of his fireproofs.

"You cheated, how did you even—"

Max's back hits the table, knees buckling slightly at whatever scent Charles is giving off. His scent is sweet and rich, filled with genuine joy, and his lisp is stronger when he speaks.

"It's not cheating, you are just bad—"

Their rental helmets get tossed aside, and Charles lifts Max to sit on the counter, mouthing at his neck just behind his jaw. He pushes his legs apart, pressing them together before gripping at his waist.

"Yes, of course, whatever you say,"

He licks a hot stripe across Max's skin, immediately obsessed with the way he shivers under his hands.

"As long as you are saying something."

Max whines, thighs squeezing at Charles' hips. There's a slight sour note to his scent as he tilts his head back further, exposing his neck.

"'M not supposed to, Charlie—"

Charles nips at him lightly, rolling his hips against him. Max's ankles hook behind his back, and the sweet notes to his scent are back, the ones that Charles had smelled on his skirt, the ones he can smell now.

"I don't care what they taught you there, chéri. If I could've gotten you out sooner, before you even went in—"

He snarls lowly, pulling Max closer to him.

"—then I absolutely would have."

Max shivers again, and Charles can smell slick under the race suit. He can't help the way it makes his lip curl into a smug grin, and he presses his lips into the curve of Max's neck, fingers pulling away the collar and tossing it aside.

Max moans.

"Oh— Are we doing this here?"

Charles gets his mouth across his scent gland, scraping his teeth across it as Max jerks, scent spiking. It's almost cloyingly sweet, sticking to his mouth and his hands and his hips, and he wouldn't want anything else.

"Mhm."

He hums the affirmative into Max's neck, one hand starting to tug his fireproofs all the way off as he gently pushes him onto his back. Max is beautiful under his hands, better than any fantasy he'd ever come up with during rut, and he's not going to waste any time when it comes to claiming him.

He's waited long enough.

He gets his fingers down between his legs, brushing against damp fabric, and he's pleased with the way Max spreads his legs further, every inch the perfect omega.

Charles slides one hand up his side and across his chest, groping his tits as he leans down, lips pressed to the dip of his collarbones.

"Forget the fucking school, Max. If I have to take you to a track every time, fine. But I don't want a pretty little high society omega, I bought you."

Max whines, hands finally coming up to grip at Charles' side, fingers digging into his skin.

"Charlie, please—"

"Good boy."

He slides two fingers into Max, scissoring a few times to make sure there's enough space. He could add a third finger, but Max is dripping wet, and Charles still wants him to feel it.

It's short work to shove his own fireproofs down, running his fingers through Max's slick before wrapping them around his cock. He leans forward, one thumb hooking Max open as he presses in, and Max's fingers scrabble at him wildly as his scent spikes.

"Alpha, alpha I have never—"

Oh. Charles had almost managed to forget about that. He runs a hand across Max's thigh, trying to even out his scent to something reassuring.

"It'll feel good, chéri, you just have to relax and take it."

He hitches Max's thigh slightly higher, and fucks all the way into him in one movement, hissing slightly as Max's nails dig harshly into his sides, the sharp sting of blood when his omega tenses underneath him.

"Ah— too much, Charlie, I need,"

He whines softly, tight and hot around Charles' cock, scent anxious.

"I need a minute."

Charles rumbles lowly, thumb brushing across Max's thigh.

"You'll adjust faster if I keep moving, chéri. It'll feel good, you just need to—"

He leans forward, sliding one hand around the back of his neck and gripping tight, getting him into a scruff.

"—Take it."

He puts a Command behind the words, and Max goes limp, open and relaxed as his eyes glaze over. Charles rolls his hips, enjoying how Max feels around him, before he sets a hard pace, chasing his own pleasure.

Max will come when he bites— most omegas do, as a result of the endorphins it releases— so he's not worried about him in the meantime. Omegas are built to receive, to feel fulfilled when their alphas are happy.

Charles feels plenty happy just like this, fucking Max, finally together.

Max groans softly underneath him as Charles' knot starts to swell, and he tugs him just a bit closer, mind swirling with thoughts of Max back at home, or in the garage, or bent over his drivers room couch before a race—

He gets his teeth around Max's neck as he comes, biting down hard. This is his omega, and he's going to leave a claiming mark so deep no one else could ever say otherwise.

Max jerks underneath him, squeezing tight at his cock as he comes, heels pressing into Charles' spine as his legs shake. Charles laps at the blood in his mouth, surrounded by the scent of Max.

He belongs to him now.

For good.

#ficlet #o!darkbull #but this is the etiquette school au #kink prompt #somehow this charles is lowkey the nicest #idk how that happened #could this have been longer #yes #was it already long enough #also yes

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after-the-end-times · 7 months ago

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Icy Roads, Full Hearts

For @steddieholidaydrabbles Prompt: Icy Roads ⛸️ Rating: G ⛸️ Words: 361 ⛸️Tags: Established Relationship, Married Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Future Fic, Domestic Fluff Ao3

“Oh, this is definitely gonna be a snow day tomorrow.” Steve says, peering out the front window.

“The rain finally turn to snow?”

“Nope. The temp’s dropped and it’s now freezing rain. The trees are already drooping. Gonna have to check for downed limbs in the morning and hope the power stays on through the night.”

“It’s pretty though!”

Steve smiles over at Eddie, before turning back to the window, “It’s as beautiful as it is destructive. Now we just wait, see what comes of the night.”

“Oooh, that’s good, baby. I’m using it in my next game and you can’t stop me! Mwahahaha!” He dramatically cackles as he runs off to write it down in his Ideas Notebook.

Steve laughs quietly and shakes his head fondly, as if he’d ever fight Eddie on using his rare moments of dramatics for his weekly stories. He can still hear Eddie repeating what he said in increasingly more dastardly voices down the hall in his crafting room, though.

“Ope, Eddie! The kids are aslee- Eh whatever, they’re used to it.”

He turns back and pulls the curtain aside to watch the rain continue to come down. Eddie’s right, it is pretty. For a moment he thinks about bundling up to go take some artsy photos of the glittering, wet branches catching the yellow light from the street lamps, but no, it’s way too cold and wet out. Plus, he can get prettier photos in the morning, when the sun is shining and he can see every line and branch under a layer of sparkling, clear ice.

Thinking of the ice covered world they’d wake up to in the morning, Steve suddenly has an idea; the street would be covered in a thick layer of solid ice and the salt trucks don’t get to their neighborhood until later in the day. He goes to their overflowing front closet to begin gathering coats and snowsuits, mittens and hats...and four pairs of skates.

The morning might bring broken branches and downed lines, but for their little family it was going to be a lovely, icy snow day full of laughter, adventure, and memories.

Steve couldn't wait

#steddie #steddie holiday drabbles #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie fic #ficlet #I guess I have a writing tag now

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ftmforestfae · 2 months ago

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I will be seeing a friend with benefits next week so begins edge week. I can not cum until the D appointment so I have a some smokes and a blinker who wants to help me edge?

I also want to edge in between seeing this person so we will keep it up until the goal hits I suppose.

Challenge 05/06 - TBD

Green is Not completed Blue is completed

Max is 5 on spamming notes.

1 note a hit off the joint or bong

1 ask 5 min pumping session

1 comment a minute Incriments I touch myself

1 reblog a blinker

10 notes 3 minutes of grinding/humping the nearest object upon reaching goal

5 asks I will describe an edge session in detail for the blog while pumping

5 comments I will pick one action in the comments to do.

5 reblogs 5 minutes of teasing my body and playing with anything but my cock or hole. rebloggers choice of body part if they notice they are the 5th one

20 notes vibe on my nipples for 2 minutes

10 ask Non Anon askers choice writing prompt

10 comments 2 minutes ice in my underwear

10 reblogs only play with my ass for 5 minutes

30 notes 30 spanks on the ass

20 asks cockwarm while smoking while mutals/followers tease

20 comments a Writing prompt highlights a kink of your choice to the 20th commenter

20 reblogs 20th reblogger will get an option in a picture poll of what they would like to see

50 notes finger my ass open

30 asks askers choice for how I touch myself for 10 minutes

30 comments I'll pump my tdick with a plug in my ass

30 reblogs 3 interval spanks on my cunt and ass with a vibe inside

75 notes I'll do chores around the house plugged (either or both holes)

40 asks for non Anon asks 30 to 40 I will write your tag and a word or phrase of your choice on my body for a photoshoot

40 comments 40th comments gets to choose a lingerie fit to add to the shopping poll

50 reblogs I'll buy a bottle of wine to add to the intox portion

100 notes I'll post an audio of me edging and begging to cum

50 asks whatever the 50th non Anon ask is I'll do it as long as it's not in my listed limits.

50 comments ride a dildo for 30 minutes without stopping, touching my tdick, or cumming

75 reblogs post photos from the dildo ride above

125 notes I'll buy a tail plug and show it off

75 asks post a pic of one of my holes plugged up

75 comments I have to show my fwb the photos from the previous blog rewards

100 reblogs 100th reblogger gets a posted or private photo of their choice

150 notes I'll get a Brazilian wax then track my bush growth for the blog

100 asks I'll buy a new toy of the non anon persons choice and show off me using it

100 comments I'll spank my cunt 100 times and post the results

150 reblogs I'll do a hot wax and ice temp play photoshoot

200 notes audio post poll entry of the 200th note

150 asks for the 150th ask non Anon a photoshoot highlighting the kink of your choice

150 comments record a naked yoga or workout routine

200 reblogs hump my sucker toy while riding a dildo in my ass and an empty cunt

250 notes triple threat toy combo for 45 minutes edging

200 asks I'll ask my Fwb if I can post a picture of their cum leaking out of me

200 comments I'll ask my fwb to video them doing something to me

250 reblogs I'll ask my fwb to fuck my ass

300 notes go to work plugged

300 asks I'll buy a fantasy toy of the nonanon askers choice.

300 comments I'll post a pic on the fantasy toy

300 reblogs I'll wear crotchless underwear out of the house

400 notes lengeire haul photo shoot

400 reblogs begin overstim game

500 notes I'll pierce my nipples

500 reblogs Start an Only fans or Fansaly

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tallsc · 2 years ago

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Hello fellow QSMP Tumblr people, I would like to make a offer and would love to see if this can catch on.

If we're adopting A1, let's go all out. We're taking care of this kid.

At least three times a week, someone on Tumblr, under the "qsmp a1 tasks" tag, should draw or write something about A1 doing at least one of the official tasks for that day or the prior few days (cause I know it takes time to draw or write). It doesn't have to be huge, could be anything from a sketch to a full picture or comic, from a few sentences to a full short story, as long as it appears under the tag and has something to do with A1 and one of the recent tasks! (Please say somewhere what task you're doing and what day it was from.)

A1 doesn't mind what name you use - Ai, Aaron, Ivan, just A1, something else entirely - as long as you still use the right tag so everyone can see that there's been a task completed. They also use any pronouns and have a whole wardrobe of accessories, again as long as it's clear in the art or story that the egg is A1 and not one of the other eggs.

Feel free though to include yourself or your OCs or one of the QSMP members or none or all of them, this is just a series of writing/drawing prompts with a purpose, go wild and have fun!

Due to it being Saturday already, required tasks won't start until this Monday. After that, let's see how long we can keep our community's new kid going!

Updates account

If anyone would like to translate this into any of the other three languages, I will gladly add the translations to this post and credit you for doing so. I want to make this visible and accessible to as many people as possible.

Translations below (French by @lb1412, Portuguese by @aurora-bore-aura)

Portuguese:

Oi pessoal do QSMP Tumblr, eu queria fazer uma oferta e eu adoraria ver se isso irá se espalhar mais.

Se a gente tá adotando A1, vamos com tudo. A gente vai cuidar dessa criança.

Três vezes por semana pelo menos, alguém no Tumblr, na tag "qsmp a1 tasks", tem que postar um desenho ou escrever sobre A1 fazendo uma das tarefas oficiais daquele dia ou uns dias antes (porque eu sei que leva tempo pra fazer arte). Não precisa ser muito, pode ser um esboço(sketch) pra um desenho completo ou quadrinho, de algumas frases para uma pequena história completa. Que precisa é ao menos aparecer na tag e ter relação com A1 e as tarefas recentes! (Por favor diga em algum lugar que tarefa se tá fazendo e que dia foi ela)

A1 não tem preferência com o nome ou pronome que você usar — Ai, Aaron, Ivan, só A1, algum outro que se faça — desde que você ainda use a tag dita pra que todo mundo veja que tarefa foi feita. Além de liberdade de pronomes ele tem um armário cheio de acessórios, então por favor deixe claro em algum lugar da sua arte ou história que o ovo é o A1 e não um dos outros.

Sinta-se livre pra incluir você, ou um dos seus personagens, ou um dos membros do QSMP, ou ninguém, ou todo mundo acima. Isso aqui é só uma série de sinopses para desenhar/escrever com um propósito, se solta e se divirta!

Como já é sábado, as tarefas necessárias não vão aparecer até segunda-feira. Depois da revelação, vamos ver por quanto tempo podemos manter a nova criança da comunidade!

French:

Salut les fans du QSMP, j'ai une proposition à vous faire et j'adorerais voir si ça peut devenir concret.

Quitte à adopter A1, sortons le grand jeu. On va s'occuper de cet enfant.

Il faudrait qu'au moins trois fois par semaine, quelqu'un sur Tumblr dessine ou écrive quelque chose où A1 fait au moins l'une des tâches officielles du jour ou de l'un des jours précédents (parce que je sais que dessiner ou écrire, ça prend du temps), et le poste sur le tag "qsmp a1 tasks". Pas besoin de faire quelque chose d'y mettre énormément d'efforts, ça pourrait être n'importe quoi, d'un croquis à une illustration ou BD complète, de quelques phrases à une courte histoire complète, tant que c'est posté dans le tag et que ça a un lien avec A1 et l'une des tâches récentes ! (S'il vous plaît, notez quelque part de quelle tâche vous vous chargez et le jour auquel ça correspond.)

Peu importe quel nom vous utilisez pour A1 (Ai, Aaron, Ivan, juste A1, ou même un tout autre nom), cela ne lea dérange pas tant que vous utilisez le bon tag pour que tout le monde puisse voir qu'une tâche a été accomplie. Iel utilise n'importe quels pronoms et possède toute une galerie d'accessoires, tant, encore une fois, qu'il est clair dans le dessin ou l'histoire qu'il s'agit d'A1 et pas d'un autre œuf.

Sentez-vous libre de vous inclure vous, vos OCs, l'un des membres du QSMP, tous les membres, ou même aucun, ce ne sont qu'une série de prompts de dessin/d'écriture avec un but précis, faites-vous plaisir et amusez-vous bien !

Puisqu'on est déjà samedi, les tâches nécessaires ne compteront pas avant lundi. Après ça, essayons de voir combien de temps la communauté peut maintenir notre nouvel enfant en vie !

#qsmp #qsmp eggs #qsmp a1 tasks #qsmp aaron #qsmp ai #art prompt #writing prompt #time to test this social experiment and see how much we've all pack bonded with anything egg-shaped

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milkoomi · 5 months ago

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january ‘25 recap. ᥫ᭡

i wanted to start doing monthly recaps for this year! these posts will all be under my tag: #faustina’s diary !! think of these as diary entries! i’ll also be including other things that may be helpful to you guys as well!

gratitude —

1. i’m grateful for reading more

i’ve been wanting to get back into reading for a very long time now, and the time has finally come! i’m currently reading two books! one is “emily wilde’s encyclopedia of faeries” and the other is “a short history of medicine”. i’m surprised i started my reading journey with not one, but two books! both books have been so interesting to me. i got the medicine one because i’m studying to be in the medical field and i want to expand my knowledge on medicine! and the other is one i’ve been dying to read since last summer!

how you can start reading more …

set aside 15-20 minutes each day to read!

reread your favorite books!

start off with shorter novels!

2. i’m grateful for the spring semester

my semester started off a little rocky, but everything quickly got resolved! i was a little nervous, especially since this semester is my last semester before my externship and i can start working full-time in the medical field! we’re learning so many cool new things and skills in the program i’m in and i’m looking forward to all that we’ll be doing!

academic affirmations …

i am capable of achieving all my academic goals

academic success comes naturally to me

i am brilliant and my brilliance gifts me success

3. i’m grateful for closing chapters & new beginnings

throughout this entire month, i’ve been closer and closer to closing a specific chapter of my life and starting a new one! especially career wise! i have worked at my current job for two years now, and i originally did not plan to stay at this job for this long, but now i’m getting closer to leaving this job and moving into my dream career in the medical field!

journaling prompts to use for reflection …

how have you changed this month? are you proud of this change?

is there anything you regret from this month? what will you do differently next month to prevent having any regrets?

what is one goal you want to set for yourself next month?

goals —

1. pass my vital sign testing

in the program i’m in, we’ll be getting tested on our vital sign skills (blood pressure, pulse/respirations, height/weight, & temp) and this exam will determine if we get first pick for our externship or not and i’m determined to be in the top group for passing this exam! i really want to work in general surgery, ob/gyn, or psychiatry!

2. go on more dates with my fiancé

my fiancé and i spend a lot of time together since we basically live together, but we’re also both so extremely busy with our own separate lives. we both made it a goal for the entire year to have more dates! we’ve started off by having more at-home dinner dates but we also want to go to museums together, restaurant dates, and a whole bunch of other stuff!

3. expand my content

i’ve been having so much fun on this blog and creating the content i’ve been posting, but i want to expand my content creation! so one of my goals for the month of february is to kickstart my youtube channel and/or build more for this blog (i.e. create a set posting schedule, make newsletters for this blog [i’ve been inspired by my lovely mutual @glowettee & one of my favorite bloggers @malusokay 🤍), and make my blog’s community more interactive)!

write out 3 of your own goals!

bring out your journal and write down your goals for the month of february! they can be as big or small as you want them to be!

january favorites —

[ every month i’ll create a list of my favorite things from the month! it’ll be a compendium of youtubers, music, makeup, books, movies/shows, and even posts i’ve created that i’m proud of! ]

youtubers:

Emalilyn - “study with me” content, lots of videos incorporating the pomodoro method + relaxing lofi background music!

Mikayla Mags - lifestyle content, study/academic related videos, & vlogs!

Thewizardliz - motivational “podcasts” on aspects like self-improvement, confidence, leveling up; essentially the “it-girl” bible

clarisseintheclouds - content similar to Mikayla Mags but with a more introverted feel! very calming & relaxing energy!

books:

Emily Wilde’s Encyclopedia of Faeries by heather fawcett

A Short History of Medicine by steve parker

Nana by ai yazawa

movies/shows:

Priscilla

Gilmore Girls

Grey’s Anatomy

makeup:

haus labs by lady gaga triclone skin tech medium coverage foundation

one size on til dawn setting spray

colourpop pressed powder blush - shade: classic pink

blog posts i’m proud of:

a new canvas means a new you - mini series

this was my first ever series on this blog that i created for the new year & the amount of love it received made me so unbelievably happy! i’m truly so grateful that this series helped so many of you and, honestly, creating it even helped me!

how to study effectively

if there’s anything to know about me, it’s that my studies are a huge priority for me. i started off my college years not knowing how to properly study, but as time went on i gradually learned how! and being able to teach you guys what i’ve learned in my academic career made me feel so accomplished!

faustina’s style guide - chapter one

i love fashion and i’ve always wanted to do more with it like creating content related to it! i don’t know if it’s because of my leo energy, but getting dressed up and looking my best is always a necessity for me even if i’m just going grocery shopping! my best friend and i are fashion fanatics (my bestie actually created a fashion blog as well! go check it out @cloudee-pup 🤍), and i wanted to bring my thoughts of style/aesthetics/clothes to a larger audience! i’m really looking forward to continuing this series!

final thoughts —

january has been a wonderful month so far and i seriously can’t express enough in words how thankful i am for that. 2025 has started off wonderfully for me and i can’t wait to experience all the new opportunities i have lined up for myself this year. this month has truly given me a first look at how the rest of my year will go, and i’m seeing a lot of new growth for myself and starting new chapters of my life!

write a letter to your future self! what are you looking forward to experiencing? what do you want them to know? any tips or pieces of advice?

with lots of love, faustina 🌷

#faustina’s diary #girlblogger #girlblogging #self reflection #journaling #journal #self care blog #digital diary

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liaromancewriter · 10 months ago

Text

Perfect Day

Premise: When the leaves turn, it’s time for childhood fun.

Book: Open Heart (post series) Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Cassie Valentine); feat. Max Valentine Rating/Category: Teen. Fluff. Words: 930

A/N: I wanted to write this fic last Fall, but I couldn't seem to do it. It's not officially Autumn in my part of the world, yet, but this weekend feels like it as the temps drop. I'm using prompt 1 from @creativepromptsforwriting's Grumpy-Sunshine dialogue prompts. Tagging for reblog to @creativepromptfills

It was a perfect Fall day. Crisp air, a clear blue sky, the sun hanging low, casting a golden glow over the backyard blanketed with fallen leaves from the old oak tree. Their vibrant hues—reds, oranges, and yellows—created a kaleidoscope of color on the ground. Still more fell, raining down on the little girl captivated by the magic of the season.

Six-year-old Cassie Valentine turned her face up to the sky, arms spread wide as she spun in circles, laughing when errant leaves grazed her forehead before drifting to the soft ground.

Her twin brother Max whooped and hollered like a banshee, leaping into the largest pile. His maniacal laughter stood in stark contrast to her joyful giggles. The leaves crunched under his weight, releasing an earthy scent reminiscent of the changing seasons.

Not wanting to miss out on the fun, Cassie charged forward, sharing a mischievous glance with Max.

They leaped into the air together, seeming to float for a second, and then, with a soft whoosh, landed in the pile, leaves flying around them and their laughter echoing through the yard.

The crunch beneath them was satisfying, a symphony of fall, and they both giggled uncontrollably as they sank into the colorful mound. They took turns burying each other, tossing handfuls of colorful leaves into the air just to watch them flutter down like confetti.

Cassie lay on her back, flailing her arms as if making a leaf angel, while Max jumped from pile to pile. Eventually, he grew tired and flopped down beside her, his head resting against hers.

They lay there side by side, staring at the slowly darkening sky. The sound of rustling leaves in the gentle breeze and their steady breathing were the only things breaking the peaceful silence.

“Best day ever,” Max said with a grin, showing off the gap in his front teeth.

“Best season ever,” Cassie whispered, sighing in contentment.

At that moment, the world was just them, the leaves and the endless possibilities of a perfect autumn day.

Many years later…

There was no season quite like Fall, thought Cassie. And her adopted hometown of Boston was a sight to behold when the seasons changed and the leaves turned.

The city hummed quietly in the distance, but here in the wide expanse of Boston Common, the sounds were a symphony of children laughing, branches rustling in the wind, and squirrels scurrying from tree to tree.

The winding paths were blanked with a patchwork of Autumn hues—red, gold, amber. The ancient trees seemed to bow overhead, shaking loose leaves that drifted lazily to the ground.

Leaves crunched beneath her boots, a satisfying sound that reminded her of childhood pleasures and a time of innocence.

She glanced sideways at her husband, his brow furrowed in deep thought, her hand warm in his. A sudden idea sparked. Ethan Ramsey could use some fun.

Cassie tugged at his hand, ignoring his startled shout as she dragged him toward the piles of leaves scattered across the green.

Her eyes sparkled with laughter as she gathered handfuls of leaves and tossed them over his head. A red leaf stuck to his hair, and his exasperation was evident in the way he stared at her.

Cassie grinned mischievously, daring him with her eyes. Ethan slowly plucked the red leaf from his hair, almost nonchalantly, but his laser blue eyes glittered with challenge.

In one swift motion, Ethan bent down, scooped up a pile of leaves and tossed them in her direction.

“This means war,” he warned, his voice playful as he grabbed another handful.

Cassie shrugged, unfazed and tossed a ball of leaves straight at his face. “Bring it!”

Ethan shook his head, raising one hand in mock surrender. But with the other, he swiftly swung a handful of leaves toward her, like a pitcher letting a ball fly. Cassie squealed, trying to dodge the cascade of red, orange, and yellow foliage as it sailed toward her.

Her laughter echoed through the park as she darted behind a nearby tree, peeking around it with a grin. Ethan pursued, grabbing more leaves and flinging them toward her, the cool breeze carrying some of them away before they landed.

“You can do better than that, babe,” she teased, her eyes sparkling.

With a laugh, Ethan finally closed the gap between them, gently tackling her into a pile of leaves, collapsing into the soft mound, their cheeks flushed and hearts pounding from the spontaneous game.

They lay there for a moment, leaves tangled in their hair, the cool, damp earth pressing gently through their coats.

Cassie turned to Ethan, still breathless with laughter.

“For the record, I won,” she teased, nudging him playfully.

Ethan chuckled, shaking his head. “Looks like a draw from where I’m sitting—”

His words cut off as he sputtered, Cassie burying him under an armful of leaves.

“Now, I won for sure!” she declared, her voice triumphant.

Ethan smiled, his eyes softening as he pulled her toward him, his hands gently gripping her arms. In one smooth motion, he rolled her over, their faces inches apart, the world around them fading into the crisp autumn air.

“I think you're right,” he murmured, his voice low, “You’re definitely the only person I would do this for.”

He closed the distance between them, his lips capturing hers in a kiss that felt as natural as the falling leaves.

In that moment, there was no winning, no losing—just the two of them, lost in the magic of a perfect autumn day.

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

All Fics & Edits: @bluebelle08 @coffeeheartaddict2 @crazy-loca-blog @jerzwriter @justyourusualash

@lady-calypso @kyra75 @mainstreetreader @peonierose @potionsprefect

@queencarb @quixoticdreamer16 @snoopdogcone @tessa-liam @trappedinfanfiction

Submissions: @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

Ethan & Cassie only: @cariantha @custaroonie @youlookappropriate

#open heart #ethan ramsey #choices open heart #ethan ramsey x mc #ethan x mc #open heart fanfic #open heart fanfiction #playchoices #choices fanfic #choices fanfiction #ethan ramsey x cassie valentine

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