#and it's fine if it's different from the person's next to you!

[peachsukii]

— I’ll be home for Christmas

it's the annual friend circle christmas party, hosted at kirishima and mina's apartment. the only downside? your boyfriend, bakugo, is stationed overseas for hero work, so this year, you'll be celebrating through a screen. at least, that's what you're expecting.

✮ content. pro hero!bakugo + pro hero!reader. christmas magic and fluff. :) a special present for my elf @lady-lauren as part of the @pixelcafe-network secret santa exchange. ♡ ♡ ♡

✮ word count: 1.1k.

Christmas Eve, the night of a traditional Christmas dinner with all of your closest friends. A pot luck buffet, secret Santa exchange, and plenty of laughs through the night as you all reminisce over your lives. There’s just one thing that’s missing this year — Bakugo. Well, missing in person.

It was an opportunity of a lifetime, one he couldn’t turn down, no matter how much he argued against it. An esteemed agency in California was accepting applications for international transfers as part of the new “Heroes Around the World” program. It wasn’t that he wasn’t thankful, or even uninterested, but Bakugo’s biggest fear was being alone. Being away from you, especially in another country. After many nights spent hyping him up to take the chance, he accepted the offer. Before you two knew it, he was jetting off to the USA for three months.

And, unfortunately, three months turned to six.

Bakugo’s not coming home until March. The US commission was so impressed by his skillset (because why wouldn’t they be?) and wanted him to train an entire new wave of sidekicks by crafting a program to mimic Japan’s Hero protocols. You couldn’t bring yourself to be selfish and have him come home, no matter how much you missed him. So, you two made it work — 17 hour time difference be damned. Early morning voice notes, late night video calls, quick texts and even little homemade letters from time to time. Bakugo became fond of your hand written letters, especially when the paper would faintly smell of your perfume or have traces of lipstick kiss marks.

When you show up to Kirishima and Mina’s home, they welcome you with open arms, chirping how they’re happy you came and how much they’ve missed you.

Everyone starts arriving over the next hour, greeting you with warmth and love like always. It’s not long until their apartment is jam packed with all of your closest friends, shuffling around the kitchen with delicious food and drinks. Everyone shoves a present under the tree in the living room for later, truly adding a layer of joy to the atmosphere. Your heart aches softly as the night progresses, missing Bakugo’s hand on your thigh under the table or around your shoulders as you chat and laugh with everyone. The plan is to have Bakugo video call Kirishima’s phone during the secret Santa exchange, that way he’d still be included when everyone swapped presents. It’ll be 2AM for him, but he insisted it’s fine.

There’s a little pang in your chest when you look under the luminescent tree in the living room and see the one with his handwriting for Jiro. ‘To: Ears — Love: Kats’ with a skull drawn next to it. It’s endearing to see his love for your friends extend across the sea so effortlessly. Midoriya takes a seat next to you on the couch before everyone else meanders into the living room for the secret Santa exchange. His eyes gleam when they meet yours, a smile tugging on his lips and accentuating the freckles on his cheeks. “How are you doing?”

You nod and tilt your head with a soft smile of your own. “It’s nice to get out and be with friends. Being home for the holidays without Katsuki was starting to get to me.”

Midoriya’s eyes soften. “I know it’s hard. Only a few more months!” Before you get a chance to think too deeply about it, Kirishima claps his hands to get everyone to quiet down.

“Alright guys! Time to exchange presents.” He pulls out his phone and sets it on the dock by the TV, the little screen displaying a pending ‘Call’ screen. It’s not long before a familiar face appears, the room erupting in a hearty cheer.

“Bakugo!”

“Shut up, don’t all yap at once!” Bakugo grumbles with a grin on his handsome face. It seems his eyes find you in the room as you shoot him a little wave, his grin settling into a longing smile. “Kirishima, get things rollin’ before my ass falls asleep.”

The room chuckles as gifts are starting to be exchanged, anything from cute pairs of socks to video games to awkward stocking stuffers. No other presents are lining the tree skirt after a half hour of celebration, but you’re left empty handed. It’s awkward, to say the least.

“Are we missing one?” Kirishima questions with a frown. “There’s no way we left you out.”

Bakugo’s face sours on the phone screen, immediately upset that you’re excluded from the tradition. “What the hell? Someone better fess up. Don’t screw with my girl’s Christmas.” Suddenly, the video freezes and hangs up, leaving everyone silent as they turn towards you. How the hell could this happen?

“Why don’t you check the entryway?” Mina advises. “Maybe it was left there by mistake.”

You stand from the couch with defeat, sulking toward the door to double check. Who had you for secret Santa? Did they not know what to get for you, or were you truly forgotten? After a quick glance in the doorway, you come up short. Guess you won’t be getting a gift this year after all.

When you return to the living room, everyone seems to be staring at you with an apologetic look on their faces. Your head is hung low, aimlessly wandering back to the couch as you plop back down on to the plush fabric.

“No luck,” you whisper. “It’s okay, though. It’s not a big deal.”

The room is silent until someone speaks up.

“Look again.”

Wait. You know that voice.

It has you whipping your head up, looking around desperately to be sure you’re not hearing things. Like magic, Bakugo appears from behind the Christmas tree in the living room, his cheeky smirk illuminated by the bright string lights.

“Merry Christmas,” Midoriya whispers next to you, his eyes glossing over with emotion. “Sorry for tricking you!”

Before you know it, you’re launching off the couch and skipping over to Bakugo, throwing your arms around him excitedly. He picks you up, swinging around in soft circles, squeezing you tight enough to take your breath away. Once he sets you down, you pull back to look at him.

“Katsuki, how—”

Bakugo cuts you off with a kiss, cradling your face in his hands. After a moment, he releases you, all the love in your body flourishing at his touch.

“Commission gave me five days off. M’all yours,” he whispers, brushing a piece of hair out of your face. “Izuku pulled some strings to get those corporate assholes to approve it.”

You turn toward Izuku, mouthing a ‘thank you’ before burrowing your face into Bakugo’s chest. God, you’ve missed the way he smells, his warmth…everything about him.

“Okay you creeps, stop starin’ already,” Bakugo jests to the group. Everyone shouts with glee, the party continuing in full swing with the whole family together — at last.

This is a Christmas you’ll never forget.

Merry Christmas, Lauren!! I hope you enjoyed it. With much love from your secret Santa, Rei <3

@slayfics @maddietries @liluvtojineteyam

@Yoyolovesdaiki @catsoupki @purplescorpi0

@jays-adventure3 @simp-plague @napbatata

@www-marianette-org @obsessedpersona @kirishimaeijiromyman

@strwbrrykthv @hayatoseyepatch @awkwardchick87

@unriding @sylushi @darhinadadragon

[coquettepascal]

cranberry christmas

part iii of my series "texas sweet!" texas sweet masterlist and my masterlist

summary: it's your first christmas with the miller family, which brings all sorts of new feelings out of you and joel. he relieves your anxiety in a few giving ways (tis the season!)

tags: 18+, smut, anxious!reader, dilf!joel, joel is kind of a flop (but in a cute way), gentle!joel, found family (a little), the miller family being cute, reader has an anxiety attack, mentions of troubled family life, dorky christmas cheesiness, reader celebrates christmas, heavy on the f!reader for this one, reader has boobs, reader has hair, reader wears lingerie, dryhumping, almost powerbottom!joel (?), begging, nippleplay, hickeys, coming untouched, praise kink a little, realistic people in unrealistic situations, establishing of relationship

part i -> part ii -> part iii

a/n: this honestly got way out of hand, but i LOVE IT!! i hope you all have a lovely holiday season <3

(5.1k, not beta read)

“How long have you been a dad again?” 

You’re staring at the pile of gifts that Joel has “wrapped” so far. The striped paper is wrinkled on a few of them like he balled up the paper before wrapping the gift, other ones have glaring bald spots that reveal what they are without having to unwrap them. 

Joel huffs, grumbling to himself as he’s hunched on the floor, cutting out another square of paper to wrap a book. 

“Long enough to know that if I stay down here too long my back’ll hurt tomorrow,” he responds. 

The Christmas tree in his living room has been thoroughly decorated, leaving the lights to reflect from glass ornaments onto his face. Joel looks stressed tonight, but he’s just been stressed all the time lately. The colder months have brought shittier weather, which has him worried about snowfall on sites that couldn’t take it at the moment. Anytime you’ve seen him recently, his skin has still been cold from the outside, his nose slightly red. 

He looks at your pile of gifts, which have been neatly wrapped and finished with stick-on bows, and then scrunches his face, quietly mocking your words. You laugh, feigning offense as you tilt your head.

“Oh I’m sorry, I just assumed you would have been better with your hands, Joel,” you retort in return. Instantly his head is back up so he can look at you, a shocked expression on his face. 

“You sayin’ I’m no good with my hands?” He asks, a bit incredulous.

Your eyes are rolling before you can help it, smiling as you shake your head.

“No–” you start.

“I can prove that I got perfectly fine hands. Fingers too for that matter,” he dares.

Joel shoves the wrapping paper out of his way as he scoots his way over to you, his knees scrubbing the hardwood floor. He’s smiling stupidly, clearly excited to get out of wrapping gifts.

“Joel!!” You huff, trying to squirm away from him as he gets closer to you. You’ve learned he has a serious personal space problem.

“What, angel? S’not like anybody else is home,” he grins, nosing at your cheek.

And God. Yeah, finally, nobody is fucking home.

You and Joel have been something for the past however many months. Time has flown quickly, with life and love brushing past your skin in a wind of smiles. Work takes over Joel’s life before he realizes it, and it happens a lot. Maybe that would be a problem for most people, but you live right next door. It’s not like there’s space between you, especially since you can knock on his door whenever you want to.

But you’re both adults, and spontaneity requires energy that you both lack. 

The current schedule you’ve fallen into is seeing him on Friday evenings, whenever he gets home from work, a small date on Saturday if you have the energy, and family dinner on Sunday. Yes, you’ve now worked up the courage to look his daughters and brother in the eye. After you started showing up more often they began to bond with you more, especially his girls. Ellie and Sarah are both young, both smart, and as different as they are, it just makes for a firecracker-y relationship that’s hard not to interact with.

You’ve fallen into place as Joel’s something, as someone to his family.

The only problem you and Joel have is actually getting alone time. Since you both work so much, and he’s so family oriented, it’s been hell actually trying to get alone time with him. Not even just time to… do stuff. Just having a private moment is tough. Someone is always in his house, and as much as you have your own house, his feels more like home. 

You didn’t even set up your tree this year. The living room is bare of holiday cheer, save for the growing pile of presents that you’ve built in the corner near the couch. Finding home in Joel has not helped you find your place in Austin still, the lack of familial familiarity has sucked the love from your walls. The whole house just feels like dead skin that’s ready to flake away anytime you’re there. You want to brush it from its plot of land and go back to the place next door, where warm light and voices hold the roof down and raise it all the same. 

So yeah, your house isn’t really where you want to be, ever. Sacrificing sex with Joel isn’t the best, but you want to be around him more than anything. As long as he’s there, you don’t care so much if he’s getting you there. At least not usually. 

“Yeah, no one’s home,” you repeat back to him.

The incandescent bulbs that are strung onto the tree are casting light through his hair. Tiny flecks of grey are all you can get a view of right now as he pushes his nose beneath your jaw, pressing kisses to the tender skin that tingles under his lips. 

“Mhm,” he grunts, biting at your skin then kissing over it when you wince slightly. “N’they won’t be home for at least an hour.” His hands are skimming over the waistband of your pajama pants, warm fingers dipping to touch the band of your undies. 

“Yeah,” you say again. You’re losing words. It always feels like you lose your words, breath, and brain around him, but maybe it’s because you don’t need it. Joel keeps kissing at your neck as he reaches around, tapping your bum so you lift up for him. 

The lights in the room flash into pink as your eyes slide shut and your pants are tugged down more. It’s been too long, you need this, he needs this. 

Joel doesn’t hesitate. As soon as your pants are down enough, his hand is in your undies, skimming the hair there and then pressing against you. A surprised huff puffs into your neck as he feels how wet you’ve gotten, how quick. 

And then keys. And then the front door is swinging open. And then your pants are shoved up and everyone’s home and you aren’t in your mind, but it’s fine. It’s fine. 

You’ll find time before Christmas. 

—

Today is Shitmas.

“Shitmas. Y’know, like the day in Christmas week where you do a bunch of Christmas-y shit,” Tommy had informed you about a week ago, after you had slowly turned to look at him in the living room.

The Miller family does Shitmas on the 23rd of December, and supposedly it includes, but is not limited to, family pictures in the living room, cookie baking and decorating (lead by Sarah), and sock snowman making. 

They do this every year, and you can tell because as soon as you show up on Shitmas, you’re greeted by little sock snowmen. They line the stairs, each one with a year labelled on the belly. The first few are singular snowmen, but somewhere along the way it turns into two, marking when Ellie joined their family. Over the years they’ve obviously improved, but there’s something special about the first few on the stairs. Mismatched eyes, splattered glitter glue, and Joel’s printing on their bellies, instead of Sarah’s, all grace the earliest dated snowmen.

Ellie was the one to let you into the house today, since apparently Joel is helping Sarah bake and his hands are “nasty,” in Ellie’s words. 

“Kinda ugly, huh?” Ellie teases as you crouch to look at them on the stairs. Sarah calls out somewhere in the house, over the noise of the electric mixer, and it makes you huff a laugh.

“I think they’re endearing. It’s nice that Joel keeps these,” you reply. She somewhat agrees, an “I guess,” begrudgingly leaving her lips before Joel finally walks up and she skips off back to the kitchen. 

Joel’s drying his hands with a dishtowel still as he embraces you, sighing deeply. 

“Hey angel, sorry. Fuckin… Raw egg all over my hands,” he mutters as he squeezes you tight. The two of you pull apart for a moment, but not before Joel’s going back in and pressing a kiss to your forehead. As your palms settle against his chest, you can’t help but notice how warm he is, the skin beneath his shirt, hot and giving plushly under your fingers. 

“I like the girls’ snowmen,” you tell him fondly, peeking over your shoulder at them. When you look back at him, he’s looking at them, a softness in his eyes.

“Ellie hates doing those, she only does it because Sarah likes to.” 

—

Shitmas has been stupidly fun so far. Watching Tommy and Joel try their best to decorate cookies while Sarah makes Great British Bake Off worthy ones, all while Ellie smears smiley faces onto each one in an effort to make her sister proud has raised your spirits infinitely. You decorated a few cookies, but mostly watched in awe as Sarah expertly pressed sprinkles into each of the cookies and piped patterns onto them. It kind of felt like wasting cookies to not let her decorate them, even though she bakes them each year so everyone can participate. 

Now, you’re sitting on the couch. The cookies are all sitting on the kitchen counter, abandoned as each family member bustles around the house getting ready for the picture they’ll take in front of the tree. 

Surprisingly, Tommy is done getting ready first. Honestly you figured it would have been Joel, but maybe he’s putting some extra effort in today, rather than just running a comb through his hair. Tommy’s appearance at first is only surprising because of how meticulous he can be with his hair. Joel has told you about the times they’ve been late because his hair was “fighting” him some mornings. 

“Hair cooperated with me,” he says as he takes a seat next to you on the couch. Sometimes it feels like Tommy can either read your mind, or just says shit to take up space. You respond with a nod and a mild expression of acknowledgement, a little off in your own world. 

“You forget your flannel or somethin?” Tommy asks next. You almost nod again, on auto-pilot, but then stop.

“What?” You ask, head turning in his direction. He laughs in disbelief, and for a moment you feel embarrassment start burning at the base of your neck in fear he’s laughing at you. Were you told to bring something and didn’t?

“Hold on,” Tommy says, grunting as he curls up and off the couch a second later.

He leaves you alone in the living room, left to listen to the crackling fireplace channel on TV and the sound of Ellie protesting over Sarah wanting to put hairspray on her. 

Tommy’s heavy footsteps clomp around upstairs, leading into Joel’s bedroom. Not dissimilar to the girls downstairs, the rumble of Joel’s voice hits the floor and you roll your eyes, holding a laugh. There aren’t words you can make out, but you’re sure that Joel is mightily unhappy at the random intrusion of his brother.

The more you learn about this family, the more you feel like you’re falling into place, and the more you experience being in it, the farther away your own family feels.

You sit on the couch, still as can be, as you listen to the sound of Tommy rummaging around his older brother’s room, the sound of the hairspray being spritzed while Ellie groans. The sounds are feeling increasingly farther away, even though the girls are downstairs and the boys are only upstairs. Your eyes move to the cookies sitting on the counter, the messy dishes in the sink, and suddenly the stickiness from the icing beneath your nails is too much. 

What are you doing here? What is this Hallmark movie family you’ve found yourself in? 

The thump of your heart ramps up, pumping blood to your ears and making it rssshhhh in the back of your mind just as you begin to chase your breath. It’s all too nice, and maybe you aren’t entirely undeserving, but this is all so unfamiliar. Your own family isn’t terrible, but in comparison to this, it feels so dull. Christmas was just lights and presents before, not tradition and excitement the way that fucking Shitmas has been so far. You’re one activity into the day and it’s already so much better than what you can remember from back home. 

Maybe this is what influenced your decision to stay in Texas for the holidays. Maybe somewhere in you, you knew that this would be better. You’re sitting here, in another family’s home, taking your own family for granted, and for what? Some cookies and some pictures? For the sake of a relationship that isn’t even labelled yet? You deserve this, you deserve to chase your breath and wipe your tears. Selfish girl, if you didn’t feel right in your own family, what right do you have to find a place in theirs?

Nobody in this house asked you to be here but Joel, and really, you just showed up on his doorstep. 

Your eyes are shut as you catch your breath, squinched together so tightly that you see sparks of colour behind your eyelids. Tears keep slipping out and you wipe under your eyes politely, trying not to choke on any noises. The bathrooms are occupied, don’t make a fool of yourself in the living room. 

Tommy and Joel’s voices increase in volume until they’re in front of you, and you open your eyes to see the pair staring at you. Tommy avoids your eyes as soon as you’re looking back at him, while Joel just seems a little shocked.

“Hey,” Joel says, a festive red flannel in his grip. “Why don’t we head upstairs for a second?”

—

You cry for a long while before you actually manage to tell Joel what’s upset you. 

Sat on the edge of his bed, you cry into your palms until your cheeks are red and blotchy, and snot covers the inside of your palms and the bridge of your nose. It’s ugly, nasty, and not what you want to be doing at all. Your family is fine, just boring and emotionally detached, and you’re crying about it to the hardest working single father you know, who has essentially built his life on his own with the help of his brother. 

“I just feel so stupid and– and totally out of place. What have I done to earn my place here?” You ask him, eyes puffy and sad as you stare up at him.

Joel looks hurt. He has looked hurt for a long while, but you couldn’t see it when you were buried in your palms. His brows are pinched, his eyes wrinkled at the outer corners as he looks at you, almost seeming to pity you. For a moment his eyes flash away, not to anything in particular, but just to gather himself.

“Earn your place? Baby, what?” He questions. You stay quiet, feeling just as confused as he sounds. 

His hands clench where they rest on his thighs, then relax as he sighs, head tilting to the side so he can look at you again. 

“You don’t… earn your place in our family, darlin, you’re invited.”

How could you be so fucking dense?

Anyone that’s in Joel’s life, apart from Sarah, is somebody he actively invited in. His allowance of Tommy to be a near second father figure to Sarah and Ellie, his adoption of Ellie on its own,  the majority of his family has been let in. It could have been just him and Sarah, but he wanted more so he allowed more, and he allows more because he loves what the more in his life is. 

Joel takes a deep breath, again, and seems to steel his nerves. 

“You are so much more than invited into our family, angel, you’re welcomed wholly. But, if that’s too much right now and it’s bringing you worry, it’s fine for you to just be my girlfriend.”

Girlfriend.

That is not the topic right now, that is so not the topic right now, but he said the word. 

Joel loves the more in his life, and now he’s added you to that “more” officially. A label, a name, a little add-on to your identity. You’re putting “Joel’s Girlfriend” on your imaginary nametag in a million different fonts in your head before you realize he’s still talking. 

“You fit right in with us, baby. The girls love you, Tommy loves you, I love you, but you know that one,” he laughs. “It’s up to you if you wanna think of yourself as a part of our family, but know that we already do.” 

A smarter response should come out of your mouth here. Joel has just said a lot of touching things that have sunk into the meat of your body, warming you, but a smart response isn’t something you can manage.

“I’m your girlfriend?”  You ask.

Joel’s brows furrow. “Yeah?”

He says it the way an eighth grader would say “Duh.”

Your look of “When did this happen?” meets Joel’s look of “Where have you been?” at the same time, and only then does he realize. 

—

His apology for completely forgetting to ask you to be his official girlfriend for the last however many months is by cleaning you up really nicely for the photo.

Joel starts by fixing your hair, letting you sit between his knees as he gently pulls it away from your face. His hands run through it so carefully, a tenderness that only an experienced girl-dad like him could provide. When he’s finished, he leans down and presses a kiss to the top of your head, adding a mumbled “sorry” in, just to really save his ass. 

With anyone else you’d be upset at them for forgetting something so pivotal in a relationship, but with Joel you lend as much patience as he gives you. He’s busy, stupidly so, and with how close and intense the two of you are with one another, it’s not absurd for it to have slipped his mind. In some ways it’s flattering, and you’d like to ask how long he’s been thinking of you as his girlfriend. 

You’re just about to when he holds up the flannel in front of you, the one that he and the rest of his family are apparently wearing for the photo.

“You don’t have to. Seriously. We just talked about family and stuff and if you aren’t ready for that, then that’s–” He’s talking fast, but not as fast as you move to grab the flannel from him.

“I’m your girlfriend, of course I have to be in the picture.”

—

The rest of Shitmas was less, well, shit. 

Ellie and Sarah did their yearly sock snowmen after the photo was taken and they turned out lovely, or at least Sarah’s did. Ellie purposefully overstuffed hers with rice just to see how big she could make the snowman before he exploded, which resulted in him exploding later that evening when his rotund body toppled down the stairs.

Now it’s Christmas Eve, and you’re prepping for tomorrow morning. Your house still isn’t decorated in the slightest, the only festive thing about it being a laundry basket full of gifts that you’ll tote over to Joel’s tomorrow morning. 

Your lower back is absolutely killing you from wrapping the last of Joel’s gifts, something he had warned you of, but you had foolishly ignored. You figured it was an old man thing, not a consequence of too many presents. It feels like heaven when your back finally rests against the couch, your head leaning back as you sigh.

Since talking with Joel yesterday about the family stress and what the two of you are, you feel a hell of a lot better. Your lungs almost feel like they’re more open than before.

Just as you’re relaxing, eyes sliding shut in stressless bliss, someones at the door. 

You grunt as you peel yourself off the couch, trudging to the door and opening it. It’s strange that anyone is at your door, especially since Joel is out with Tommy and the girls going Christmas light spotting.

Or at least he’s supposed to be.

Joel stands at your door in a loose shirt and grey sweatpants, looking sheepish. 

“Do you want to come over for a bit?”

—

Alone. Finally, alone. 

You’re sat halfway on Joel’s lap, sucking a mark into his neck as he leans back, cursing softly. 

“Fuuuckin’ god, you know I missed you,” he groans. You nod into his skin, teething at the skin softly before pulling back to lick at the reddened spot. 

Your hands grip up his sides, feeling the solid width of his body, the plushness of his tummy when your hands sink into the right spot, and you want to whimper. He’s so stupidly big, and you’re so grateful he took his shirt off almost as soon as you both started making out.

Under the lights of the tree, he already looks fucked out. Joel is almost completely limp against the back of the couch, head leaned back to expose his thick throat, bitten down and bruised with marks he might regret in a few hours. His eyes are halfway shut, but dark as ever even in the warm glow of the room which also illuminates the contours that form along his tanned skin. 

He feels your eyes on him, his own opening in an attempt to meet yours, but it only brings attention to his face. Pink lips sit pretty on his face, slightly parted and puffy from kissing you dizzy earlier. Again, his eyes squeeze shut as you drag your nails up across his chest, only to fly open.

“Wait– Wait I have something,” Joel sputters. He slides you off his lap, scrambling to the Christmas tree with boyish urgency.

Joel returns with a red present, one that he actually wrapped fairly neatly.

It’d be sweet if you weren’t literally two seconds from tearing his grey sweats off his body and riding him into next year before he had shoved you off. 

“It’s not Christmas,” you point out, but he shakes his head and shoves the gift into your hands.

Begrudgingly, you unwrap the gift and lift the lid off the box beneath the paper. Laying flat in the bottom of the thin box, cushioned by white tissue paper, is a red, babydoll, nightie. A blush lashes across your cheeks as you lift it out of the box, discovering that the top of it has no bra cups, or really anything to support your tits at all. Red ribbon frames the bust of the nightie limply in a triangular shape, a fluttery mesh making up for the remainder of the piece. It looks and feels expensive, and on top of that it’s totally sexy, even more so since Joel is the one that bought it for you.

Joel had gone out and picked this just for you, he had probably thought about you wearing this every night for the past week. The idea of it is making you increasingly more aroused, your eyes flicking to his, then down to the bulge in his pants. 

“If it’s too much then I’ll return it but,” Joel’s chest is heaving with excitement, biting his lip as he looks at the nightie, “but I kind of want to fuck my beautiful girlfriend before Christmas.”

The two of you are upstairs quickly, with Joel settling in bed and you changing in the bathroom. 

You look at yourself in the reflection of the mirror once you’ve put the ensemble on, if you can call it that. The underwear that came with the nightie are barely a scrap of fabric. Normally you’d feel really uncomfortable in something like this, hyperfocusing on small things, like how the pouch of your belly looks, or how your tits don’t look nearly as full as you want them to, but not right now. 

Joel Miller just gave you, his official girlfriend, lingerie for Christmas. Because he wants to fuck you in it. 

Shamelessly, you open the door into Joel’s bedroom, basically bouncing onto the bed. 

“It’s so nice,” you tell him right away, wanting to show your gratitude. He’s down to his boxers as he lays beside you, eyes scanning up and down your body as you sit in his bed, almost as sexy as you are naked. 

Joel is still like that for almost a minute, making your brain run haywire. Tonight, he’s left the bedside light on. It’s probably so he can see you, but it’s always special when he lets you see him while you both get intimate. He doesn’t touch you at all, just scoots up the bed so he’s sitting upright and unblinking, until finally:

“I want you to use me,” Joel blurts out. 

It’s more surprising than the gift. Your voice is a tiny whine in the back of your throat, your mouth forming the word “what,” but before you can finish, his hands are on your hips, lifting you onto his thigh. 

“There, I want you to use me there,” he near-demands. 

You’re speechless. Joel is vocal in bed for sure, always talking a lot and never really quiet, but he hasn’t been so… commanding before. He’ll ask for things occasionally, a certain position or act, but not like this. Your hips are still as he pushes you down onto his thigh, the hair on it smushing into the softness of your skin. 

“C’mon, angel, I can feel you. Fuck my thigh, use me, I want it.” He encourages.

Joel’s hands grab onto you tighter now, starting to make you move your hips until you do it on your own. It feels like you’re making a dumb face, eyes wide and brows pinched together, but you can’t help but feel surprised.

This is Joel, your Joel, who was hesitant to have sex with the lights on, or even let you look at his dick in general, and now he’s making you hump his thigh? It’s completely new to you, but you aren’t mad.

Once you’ve picked up your own pace, and stabilized yourself with your hands on his shoulders, he reaches up. Joel keeps his eyes trained on your face as he takes advantage of how your tits are on full display in the nightie, plucking and rolling your nipples in his fingers all while talking you through what’s going on. 

“I know, I know you needed this,” he nods at you, “I needed it too, baby. Missed you like this.” 

It feels awfully good grinding against his thigh, and something about this newfound side of Joel with the added fact that you guys haven’t had a moment alone in probably a month, is making this so much more explosive. You roll your hips just right and gasp as one side of the undies slips into the slit of your cunt, the less soft edge of the elastic brushing your clit. A pathetic noise is ripped from you as your hips stutter, body shocked from the sudden direct stimulation.

“No,” Joel says right away. His hand reaches around and cups the bottom of your ass, letting his fingers sink into the crease between your butt and thigh as he drags you forward again. 

“Want your messy pussy all over me, please angel I need it so bad,” he says, guiding your movements as you start to go limp, head falling back. You barely register the feeling of his hand on your waist, trying to balance you as he fucks your wet cunt onto his leg. 

You let out a tiny noise as the elastic of the undies bites into your clit again and for whatever reason it makes Joel groan too. 

“S’exactly what I wanted, angel. Wanted my pretty girlfriend to come all over me an’ have her tits in my face.”

Whatever the hell has gotten into him you hope it gets into him again. He keeps rubbing you into his leg until you’re begging for more stimulation, your limp arms reaching to grab at his hand and push it up to your breasts again. 

“M-my nipples,” you beg softly, tears pricking at your eyes from the overstimulation on your clit. He doesn’t hesitate, half smiling as he starts playing with your nipples again.

“Like this? Is this gonna make my pretty baby come?” He teases as he rolls your nipples repeatedly between his fingers.

All of it is too much, but it’s exactly what you wanted at the same time. Your orgasm completely fucks you out as you keep your eyes on his, mouth hanging open dumbly as he keeps one hand playing with your nipple and the other reaching down to cup your ass and grind your cunt harder on his thigh. 

“Good girl, fuckin’ God,” Joel says, staring down as your ruined undies mash into his skin. You can’t tell if you’re coming down or if this orgasm is just super long for no reason, but if it was ending, it’s extended the moment Joel’s thigh clenches up.

You look down as you whimper, wondering why he’s chosen midway through your orgasm to fuck you up again, but then realize that he didn’t choose. 

A fat, pearly, translucent bead, sprouts from where the head of his cock lays beneath his black briefs. You can see it grow bigger in the light, listening as Joel groans and curses, his lower half thrashing beneath you. His chest is heaving and the hand on your ass is digging deep. 

“Jesus– God, baby, what you do to me,” he grits through his teeth as his back finally hits the headboard again. 

Frankly, you’re speechless. You didn’t realize that would happen, or really that it could happen. You weren’t even touching him and he came, he was only watching you. It isn’t like he shot a huge load of come, but still, something came out. 

Joel seems to be coming to the same conclusion as he breathily laughs, looking down at the mess before tugging you down onto him anyway, burying his nose in your hair. 

“Good gift,” he mumbles, maybe to you, maybe to himself. “Definitely buyin’ you another one next year.” [ <3 ]

----

please leave comments, rbs/tags, or drop into my askbox ! i love to chat and listen <3 tags (people who i think will like this?? maybe??) @bambisweethearts , @pascalssbabyy , @ajps-posts , @starcaviar , @hisvision , @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler-pascal , @joeloverture , @mochamadeleines , @taeslarityy , @theweedisasterxoxo , @pawnshopb1ues , @hellishjoel , @slutty-express , @kyloispunk , @rainbowcosmicchaos , @stefanibear003 , @pedrostories [i plan on making an updates blog or something soon, apologies!]

[aventurineswife]

hmmmmmmm how about an aventurine x reader where like it’s an established relationship but like they’re still a new couple y’know and like reader surprises aventurine with like the perfect gift for him or like something homemade that’s super cute idk and he gets all emotional and all cause it’s like the first time he gets a special gift from someone for Christmas???

Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas

Summary: It's Aventurine's first Christmas in a relationship, and the season feels both exciting and unfamiliar. As someone who has always used charm and theatrics to mask his insecurities, he's unaccustomed to genuine displays of affection. You, his thoughtful and creative partner, surprise him with a heartfelt, homemade gift that reflects their deep understanding of him. For the first time, Aventurine is left speechless, overwhelmed by emotions he can no longer conceal. Amid the soft glow of winter lights, the couple shares a tender moment that brings Aventurine closer to the concept of vulnerability, warmth, and love.

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Established Relationship, First Christmas Together, Gift Giving, Emotional Vulnerability, Fluff and Angst, Soft Aventurine, Romantic Gestures, Winter Special.

Warnings: Brief mentions of Aventurine's traumatic past, Emotional themes (processing unfamiliar feelings of love and gratitude), Mild angst with a happy and comforting ending.

The moonlight danced on the windows of the lavish penthouse, casting long shadows on the sleek furniture. The holiday season had arrived in full force, and despite the extravagant décor adorning every corner of the city, Aventurine found himself in a rare moment of peace. For once, he wasn't scheming or plotting. For once, he could almost pretend that everything was... fine.

He had spent most of the day in his usual flamboyant style, charming his way through holiday parties and meetings, but tonight was different. The festive atmosphere in the air felt more alive, as if something unexpected was about to unfold. And, of course, it did. But not in the way he thought.

"How do you feel about surprises?" your voice echoed from the doorway, breaking his thoughts as you stepped into the dimly lit room.

He turned, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "I thrive on them." he replied smoothly, his voice carrying that usual enigmatic quality.

You smiled, but there was something different in your eyes tonight—something tender and full of warmth. "Well, this one’s for you." you said softly, walking towards the small table where a beautifully wrapped box sat, tied with a delicate red ribbon.

Aventurine raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "For me? I must say, I’m intrigued." His tone was light, yet his eyes betrayed a flicker of uncertainty, a crack in his otherwise confident facade. He had never been one for receiving gifts—not because he didn’t want them, but because they reminded him of a past he had long buried. Still, he couldn’t resist. He picked up the gift, the wrapping smooth under his fingers.

"You didn’t have to," he murmured, but his voice lacked its usual flippancy, a subtle vulnerability hiding beneath his words.

"It's Christmas," you said, settling next to him, watching as he untied the ribbon and peeled back the wrapping to reveal a small wooden box. It was simple, unassuming, but the craftsmanship was evident. The box had intricate carvings, faint patterns that almost looked like a game board—spades, hearts, diamonds, and clubs, all etched with care. He traced his fingers over the delicate design, feeling the weight of the gesture.

Aventurine’s smile faltered for a moment, and he turned to you with a softened expression, his eyes a mix of confusion and something deeper. "What is this?"

Opening the box revealed a set of finely crafted playing cards—each card an artwork in itself, featuring symbols from his past, his journey, and the games he had played. There were intricate illustrations on each one, personalized to reflect his life: the destruction of Sigonia, his rise to power, and his inner turmoil. The Ace of Spades—the symbol of his Cornerstone—stood at the center, an ornate image of the desert, evoking the harshness of his origins.

"It's... perfect..." he whispered, his voice strained as if the weight of the gift had physically struck him.

You watched him, carefully noting the subtle way his gaze softened, how he looked at the cards as though they were a bridge to something deeper within himself.

"This is the first time anyone’s given me something so... personal," Aventurine admitted quietly, his usual swagger absent. The mask he so often wore was slipping, revealing the haunted man beneath. "You know, I’ve never been one to believe in fate or luck. But this... this feels like a sign."

A sudden vulnerability surfaced, one that even he couldn’t hide. His eyes flickered to you, the sharpness in them dulled, as if he was searching for reassurance. "It’s been a long time since someone... cared this much," he murmured, the words laced with an unfamiliar emotion. His voice cracked ever so slightly, a fleeting admission of the weight he carried alone.

You gently placed your hand over his, grounding him in the moment. "I care," you whispered, your voice soft and steady. "I know it’s not always easy to accept, but... I care about you. You deserve something real."

Aventurine’s breath hitched as he stared at you, his usual façade of control slipping away. His gaze lingered on your face, the sincerity in your eyes disarming him. He had been playing his own game for so long, but here, in the quiet of the room, he realized that this was a gamble he was willing to take.

He wasn’t sure when it happened, but somehow, in the midst of all the games and risks, you had become the most important prize.

"Thank you," he said, his voice low, almost reverent. "I don’t think I’ll ever be able to express how much this means."

In that moment, Aventurine, the master of manipulation, the calculating strategist, was just Kakavasha—a man who had found something far greater than any gamble he could ever win.

You leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek, a soft promise that no matter how many risks he took, he would never have to face the game of life alone again. The warmth of your embrace surrounded him, and for the first time in years, Aventurine allowed himself to believe that there was something more to life than just surviving.

As the night stretched on, the city lights twinkling outside, Aventurine—No, Kakavasha, the man who had mastered the art of risk—allowed himself to savor this one moment of peace, this one moment of real connection.

And, for the first time, he didn’t feel the need to gamble with fate.

[miss-vanta-likes-to-write]

Just wanted to say I LOVE your work! Especially with the inclusion of a black reader/character 😭🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾

This is a personal lil thought of mine, BUT

John Price wouldn’t say he was dating a black woman, but there would be signs. Even though his style would be fine beforehand, He’d be dressing nicer, his hair and beard would always be well groomed and overall put together.

I think Gaz would be the first to peep something different from his Captain cuz he recognizes the work of his own people lol

And you're right because suddenly this man's beard is lined up too nicely and that damn hat is gone. Check it below the cut love.

Rating: gen audience

It all started a few months ago with a simple, "Hey Captain?" Johnny says, "Nice cologne, the hens in the media bay can't stop talking about it."

Price only shrugged, not really paying attention, "Just trying something new."

Kyle agrees, it's new, and he thinks it fits his Captain nicely.

Then, things escalate from that one-off comment.

Kyle is perplexed. Confused. Genuinely thrown for a loop because why is his Captain sporting a tapered fade that connects tastefully to his beard? With the side burns fading into the connect?

Kyle just shruggs it off as someone at his boss' super cuts trying and talking him into something new.

Only the new hair style stays and there are plenty of women and men staring at him with lust filled eyes.

The next thing Kyle noticed was the glittering shine of a simple gold chain around John's neck. It's thin, and within regulations, the clasps are too small for his co's large hands to actually put on. Kyle peeps the little gold cross that's just dangling there when he leans over the desk to point out things in their mission dockets. Hm when did he find religion? It's not really his business.

Okay what the actual fuck? Kyle is wondering where John heard the phrase "Do I look like Boo Boo the fool" to be able to understand that he needs to not answer that question with anything other than "no ma'am". They are working with another task force that's headed by an older black woman who's a force to be reckoned with. But that's beside the point because, since when did he learn that and whom did he learn it from?

John Price isn't one to actually keep up with eating lunch at work. Kyle remembers having to drag and threaten and get Simon and Soap to help him get their leader to at least try and eat lunch and not work through it. Nowadays? This man brings in lunch, and it's not what you expect. What Kyle is expecting, well...he's not really sure what he is expecting, but seeing this man eat a fried plantain sends him.

It all comes to a head when the four of them are leaving a debrief. They are shipping out at the start of next week. Set to be gone for like maybe a few months. Johnny is begging asking for them all to go out for lunch and Price only raises an eyebrow.

"Can't today Soap." Price says as they exit the office building. His eyes scan the parking lot, and a smile breaks onto his face at the sight of a shiny black car. "I've got plans."

Now Kyle knows how to put two and two together to get four. He's had his suspicions, but the reality of John Price even dating never crosses his mind. He really thought it was just the effects of him and Soap teasing him for being an out of touch old man. But no...he crosses the parking lot and opens the car door to help out a gorgeous brown beauty. There's no telling how old she could be because Kyle knows black doesn't crack (he's often called baby face...its why he refuses to shave off the little facial hair he has). Johnny is shocked and Simon just grunts out a small "huh?" as they watch their captain help his girl into the passenger side of the car.

"In hindsight." Kyle smiles and says as they watch the car pull off, "That new cologne he started wearing months ago should have let us know far before the tapered fade."

[muddyorbsblr]

team loki pt1

See my full list of works here!

inspired by this TikTok POV

Summary: Thor poses a question that puts you in an uncomfortable situation, and causing you to give him a desperate and thinly-veiled half truth

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Warning/s: one (1) cuss word (nope, not sorry, Rogers); other than that…none? i think? this is mostly fluff with a side of slight angst?

Things to be aware of: mutual pining, idiots in love, Thor being a himbo

"Lady Y/N, may I ask a rather…personal question?"

You made sure to shut your Kindle before you looked up at Thor, bracing yourself for whatever the god of thunder might throw your way. However, nothing could have prepared you for the next words that came out of his unnecessarily nosy mouth.

"Are you in courtship with my brother?"

The common area filled with the sound of your sputtering bumbling reaction, as well as the borderline derisive laugh from Loki, who sat beside you. In fact the question caught him so off guard that he'd carelessly slammed his book shut.

"Are you out of your mind?!" you blurted out just as the raven haired god said, "Brother, don't be absurd."

Bitch please, only in my dreams, you finished in the safety of your mind. He could do so much better than me and he probably knows it.

What you didn't know is that Loki kept quiet his own sentiment. I should only be so fortunate. Every shake of your head and flippant denial felt like a dagger burrowing deeper into his heart.

"We're friends, Thunder," you answered, again biting back the words of Of course I'd love to be more, but that's neither here nor there. "That's it and that's all."

"I see…" Thor replied, the fond smile growing on his face putting both you and his brother in discomfort. "I'm glad."

"Excuse me?" you managed to croak out despite the lump that suddenly formed in your throat.

"Well if my brother is not what you fancy then that could only mean--"

"Whoa whoa whoa hold on there, buddy," you stopped him before he could even think of finishing the sentence. "I'm not into you like that, can you believe this doofus?" You looked to the god seated beside you, who surprisingly seemed even more tense than you were.

Jaw tense, eyes slightly squinted as he assessed the blond seated across from you. His entire body language suggested he was readying himself for a fight, which had you confused to no end. What stake did he have in this situation?

"Lady Y/N, I am no 'doofus', I promise you that," Thor said haughtily, shifting his posture to puff his chest out. "I will have you know that back in Asgard many a--"

"Well you're not in Kansas anymore, Dorothy," you quipped. "I know you're gonna find it hard to get through that thick skull of yours, but not every woman with a pulse here wants to throw themselves at you pussy first. This isn't Asgard. And some people just like…different things."

You didn't dare even sneak a glance at the god of mischief beside you. But if you had, you would have seen that for a split second, his face lit up at your words. That for even a fleeting moment, he felt a glimmer of hope that perhaps because your fancies didn't lean towards his blond oaf of a brother, then there was even the slightest plausibility that he had a fighting chance to capture your attentions.

"Does that mean that you prefer…urgh what was it that Stark said about these unnecessary pedantic terms?" the blond Asgardian sighed. "Something about teams…?"

Your hand slapped down on the sofa, and you let out a frustrated groan. If he kept on prodding it wouldn't take long before he'd circle back to his brother and both of them would figure it out in record time. "Fine, Thor," you said, exasperated, throwing your hands in the air. "Yes. Not that it's any of your goddamn business, but yes. I am on the other team."

You really were. In a way. Just not in the way that Stark probably meant, considering that the billionaire genius didn't spend all that much time on social media these days.

So there was no way for him, or most of your teammates really, to know that the "teams" you were referring to were actually "Team Thor" or "Team Loki". Yes, the Internet was a messed up place that you wouldn't ever bother to understand at your fully grown age, but sometimes one of its considerably saner corners were mildly entertaining.

And in this case, that corner managed to wiggle you out of a near "egg on your face" situation.

"In that case, I hope you'll accept my sincerest apologies, Lady Y/N. For breaching on your privacy so--"

"Ham-fisted?" Loki spoke up, the slightest sneer still on his face. "As you always are?"

"Yes," he murmured. "Precisely. I hope this does not affect our friendship irreparably."

"Awww Thunder, of course it won't," you said with a click of your tongue, slightly feeling sorry for the goof that currently looked like a human embodiment of "sad wet dog". "Just give it a few weeks for that awkwardness to go away…because buddy you got me real worried there."

You stood up to take your leave from the common area, wanting nothing more than to get a drink and try to put all memories of the exchange behind you. Maybe if you acted fast you could hack your brain into not having to hold on to the trauma of watching how Loki's face curled up in disgust over even the thought of you two being perceived as a couple.

"Ohh! Lady Y/N, I distinctly remember that Lady Olivia in Research is also--"

"Appreciate the offer to wingman, Thor, but I'm all good, thanks!" you said over your shoulder, walking even faster to get out of there and return to your apartment.

Once you were out of earshot, Loki turned to his brother, conjuring a dagger in his hand pointed at the oaf. "What in the Nine was that, Brother?" he nearly hissed the last word. "This will be the last time I ever make the mistake of confiding in you who it is I wish to court. Norns, you cannot even help yourself, can you? Your ego is as fragile as rice paper that you have to prove that somehow everyone I ever set my sights on will prefer you."

"Loki, I--"

"Well in this rather unfortunate and might I say humiliating turn of events, at least I have been granted the fleeting consolation that she prefers neither of us. Perhaps I can derive some form of happiness from that--"

"Brother, I apologize," Thor blurted out. "I did not set out on this foolish endeavor of mine to scorn you and thieve away Lady Y/N's affections for myself. Though now I do understand how my actions may not translate consistently with my intent."

"No, no they really hadn't, you oaf."

"At the risk of my friendship with Lady Y/N, I posed those questions in hopes that perhaps she would have shown some inkling that your desire to have your friendship become something more was…reciprocated," he confessed. There was a somber look on his face as he continued on, "I truly am sorry for not bringing forth a more desirable outcome."

Loki stewed in his seat. He'd never known his brother to express even the most minute trace of allegiance to him in their youth. "All the others," he said accusingly. "When we were in Asgard, you consistently stole them away, why am I to believe that this time was different?"

"Brother, I know you may not believe me now, but please hear me when I tell you this. Those actions were not done out of greed. They were a test of loyalty. Theirs. To you. And each and every one failed," Thor explained somberly.

Just before he could let out a barb that in your case, the only failure was his own, the sounds of junior SHIELD agents' voices floated into the common area. "Look Sierra I get it, okay? We can all have different tastes and like different people, but we can also be wrong about some things. Like honestly after everything we've seen both of them do with our own damn peepers, how can you not be Team Thor?"

"I don't have to explain my choice in men to you, Ellie," the second agent spoke. "Besides you've always known that I like brunettes and I prefer the color gree--Ohh hey, you two!" The area filled with the grating sound of their heeled boots squeaking on the floor as their steps halted upon seeing the Asgardian brothers still seated on the couch.

"Ladies," Thor addressed them with a wide grin and a wave. Both women scampered off in the opposite direction, audibly flustered before they returned to their conversation.

Loki could pay them no mind, however, for their exchange suddenly gave new meaning to your words from earlier. "I am on the other team," he quoted you. When he looked up at his brother, it seemed the blond had come to the same realization, his face lit up with excitement as he stood to take his leave.

"It seems Lady Y/N has passed my ham-fisted test after all," he said triumphantly, clapping a hand down on his brother's shoulder. "Your lady."

Manners and decorum were the furthest thing from the god of mischief's mind as he stood abruptly, shrugging off his brother's hand. "I have somewhere to be," he mumbled, his mind racing with endless scenarios of how he would go about seducing you. Of where and when and how it would commence. If he should shower you with gifts, or perhaps whisk you away to one of Midgard's more picturesque destinations to create a breathtaking backdrop to his confession.

To the consummation of your affections for one another.

But then images of your features when you both brushed off Thor's prodding questions flashed through his mind, particularly the way you winced and squinted your eyes when he'd told his brother to not be absurd. And he knew that the only right scenario would be no tricks, no illusions. To come to you here and now.

He'd waited long enough. You both had.

A/N: Merry Christmas, everybody! This is yet another one of those ideas I had where I kept on shaking my brain hoping for some loose change in the form of ideas on how to get to my next story point, before ultimately realizing that this needed to be a 2-parter. Though who knows when part 2 will be posted because as my Discord status says, I am forever ✨drowning in a sea of WIPs✨ But just know that I'm fully intending for part 2 to be mostly some smuttery between these two 🤭

This might be my last story for 2024, but let's see where the final week of the year takes me. Anyways, I hope y'all have an amazing holiday with your families, I'm going back to working on 'the gallery™️'

'everything' taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th  @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokidokieokie @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog @peaky-marvel @lokiified @tom-hlover @dryyoursaltyoceantears @herdetectivetheorist @alexakeyloveloki @lulubelle814

[rae2velaris]

2024 Was a Great Year for Elriels

The end of the year is approaching, and unfortunately, there's no announcement yet, but Elriels definitely have plenty to be grateful for this year.

On the contrary... (Quick rant...I'm allowed one a year)

The other side has enjoyed complaining and discrediting articles and large companies commenting on Elriel...

Why?

I suppose it's because their side of the fandom has nothing new to talk about with their ships?

All they have are:

Commissioned art pieces paid for by themselves (great for the artists and Elriels do commissioned pieces to so... touche)

Screen Rant articles. This website is a way for free lance writers to make some money. Honestly, if you want to dive into them, go ahead, but these article centralize on the writers' opinions and click bait/SEO. And no, I'm not going to hunt down these writers' information to discredit. People are allowed to have their opinions and make money however way they want. Just at least take a moment to look at the titles for Screen Rant articles vs. TIME, TODAY, and E! News. You'll see a difference going forward in this post.

Additonal unnecsssary "official" weeks/ "spontaneous" days for ships and characters due to the belief that Elriel fans ruin everything

Anyways, let's dive into this year's pro Elriel content ❤️

January 30th, 2024

TIME- Time magazine is a widely cited resource and maintains high standards of journalism. In this particular article, only Elain and Azriel are mentioned as a possibility for the next ACOTAR book.

January 30th, 2024

TODAY Show- A sit-down interview with SJM. (This particular part of the interview I condensed together on Canva because of the limited pictures we can include on Tumblr) Below, Sarah talks about fate, the idea of exploring rejecting mates, and free will. (Lucien and Elain?) She also discusses her characters ending up with someone who offers growth and joy. (Azriel and Elain?) SJM can't tell us in black and white that she's doing this, but COME ON people. There's a reason she discusses it.

Oh, and the TODAY show decided to like/comment on Elriel comments ONLY.

Side Note: If interested, take a look at this tumblr post for a lovely, thorough breakdown. ( @courtofblooming )

April 19th, 2024

Guilty As Sin Instagram Story from SJM- Sarah loves her little crumbs, and this song honestly encapulates Elriel. We unfortunately don't get confirmation from SJM, but I'll include some of the lyrics for you to judge.

This cage was once just fine

Am I allowed to cry?

I dream of cracking locks

Throwing my life to the wolves

Or the ocean rocks

Crashing into him tonight

He's a paradox

I'm seeing visions, am I bad?

Or mad? Or wise?

What if he's written 'mine' on my upper thigh

Only in my mind?

One slip and falling back into the hedge maze

Oh what a way to die

I keep recalling things we never did

Messy top lip kiss

How I long for our trysts

Without ever touching his skin

How can I be guilty as sin?

What makes it even better? Audible and Spotify commented ONLY on Elriel posts in relation to this song. You won't find these particular companies commenting on any other ships of the fandom.

Side Note: The other side of the fandom tries to discredit these influential companies by stating the person behind the account doesn't represent the whole company or just enjoy saying the companies comments aren't credible. Multi-million dollar companies are NOT going to waste their time and reputation on fanon created ships. These companies are business smart and only invest in what's profitable. There's a reason they make millions...ELRIEL is profitable due to canon evidence. Simple as that.

December 2nd, 2024

Bloomsbury and SJMaas Updates announce that the audiobooks are now available on Spotify- Bloomsbury, SJM Updates, and Spotify are in close collaboration with each other. Makes those Spotify Elriel comments even more satisfying. ❤️

December 9th, 2024

SJM 2024 Author of the Year Spotify Video- Although we got little news for the coming spring about audible books, us as a fandom had a lovely time dissecting the video. Yet again, Spotify only commented on Elriel comments.

Side Note: Take a look at these tumblr posts for an inciteful look into the significance of tea cups/Elain ( @offtorivendell ) and an excellent interpretation of the Spotify video. ( @wingedblooms )

December 13th, 2024

E News!- I know this particular article has ruffled some feathers, but it's entertaining none the less! Gotta love the nod to Azriel's wingspan. IYKYK (And yes, it's credible... it's owned by NBC Universal... the same company that owns TODAY and 33% stakes of Hulu through Comcast (Comcast owns NBC Universal, and the stakes are through NBC Universal). I only add Hulu due to the ACOTAR TV series being developed through Hulu.)

December 17th, 2024

Goodreads- This is just a little star on top of the tree, but it's great to know that ACOFAS made it into the top 10 most read overall books this year. (Interesting how ACOSF didn't make it...) Notably, ACOFAS is the bridge for future spin-offs. (Also interesting how a particular character isn't seen in ACOFAS...)

(ACOFAS pictures taken from @psychologynerd post linked below)

In Conclusion...

As an Elriel, I've truly appreciated the continuous confirmations for Azriel and Elain for the future ACOTAR 5 book in small, simple ways. Even better knowing that Spotify and Audible have outwardly commented on ONLY Elriel posts.

As the year 2024 ends, I'll treasure these little nuggets of positivity until the announcement day! I have a feeling 2025 will hold some excellent news for the fandom. Until then, have a wonderful holiday season and a Happy New Year!

P.S.

If you know of anymore pro Elriel content from this year, by all means, write a comment. 🥰

[lunajay33]

Suppose to be You

•🖤🍑🏹🧟‍♀️•

Summary: You’re Shane’s girlfriend but when the apocalypse hits you find him changing and find yourself leaning more towards the only person who gives you the time of day, also you’re Rick’s younger sister

Pairing: Shane x f!reader, Daryl Dixon x f!reader

Warning: Shane’s a cheater obvi, harsh words, Merle

•Masterlist•

I first met Shane when my older brother Rick first started bringing him around the house, I never thought much of him but as we got older he started flirting and we only started dating when I turned 22, about a year ago, it’s been fun but then I lost my brother and then the world got taken over by walkers and that leads to now, camped out in a quarry on the outskirts of Atlanta

We took my sister in law, Lori and my nephew with us but after being here for a while Shane’s been treating me differently, like I’m just a burden to him

Sitting around the fire I’m sat across from Shane as he’s right next to Lori, I understand him wanting to console her her husband died, but he was my brother and I’m Shane’s girlfriend I just thought he’d try to console me even just a little

“You alright sweetie?” Dale asks from next to me

“Oh I’m fine thanks for asking though” I smile trying to brush it off but inside I’m hurting deeply like I’m loosing everything

“I think I’m just gonna head to bed early” I say standing up to leave, all Shane did was glance at me before his eyes went back to the fire, Carl got up and gave me a quick hug

“Night auntie y/n” he smiles, he’s always been the sweetest kid

“Night honey” I walk away as the cool of the night started to envelope me, instead of going back to the tent I went down to the quarry shore, I knew how to take care of myself around walkers I just need to be alone

I sat down feeling all the pressure weighing down on my chest, I lost my brother, then the world ends and now my boyfriend treats me like garbage, what else do I have…….whats the point

Finally letting the tears fall I let it all out before I hear branched snapping behind me, I turn nervously wiping the tears away sighing in relief when I realize it’s just Daryl Dixon, thankfully not accompanied by his ass of a brother Merle

“What’re ya doin down here alone” he asks his eyes squinted at me but for some reason he didn’t make me nervous

“Ummm just needed to get away, what’re you doing down here?”

“Just came back from a hunt saw ya down here……wanted ta check on ya”

My heart skipped a beat, something I haven’t felt in a long time now

“Come on let’s get ya ta bed” he huffed motioning back towards the path, it was a silent walk up to the camp but it was a comfortable silence

I got to mine and Shane’s tent when I hear his fast heavy footsteps heading our way

“The hell are you doing alone with Daryl Dixon” he groans gripping my arm and roughly pulling me away from Daryl

“Shane that hurts, he was just keeping me company” I look back at Daryl and I swear if looks could kill Shane would definitely be dead on the ground

“Get lost Dixon, go back to your dick of a brother” Daryl’s eyes landed on mine and I could see them soften before he left, the further the got the more I wanted to run to him instead of being near the person I should be safe with

“The hell were you thinking”

“Like you’d care” I sigh looking down to the ground

“What’re you talking about you’re my girlfriend of course I care”

“I can’t do this right now Shane I just wanna go to bed, I think I’m gonna stay with Carl tonight, Lori can stay with you bet she’ll love that” I brush him off and walk past him to the smaller tent Carl and Lori stayed in, thankfully they were still out so I could just finally have a moment of peace

How could I feel more peace and safety around a redneck man that I barely know, than my boyfriend I’ve known almost my whole life

I quickly drifted off to sleep welcoming the darkness

•

I woke up early the next morning to the subtle chirping of birds, I quietly left the tent trying not to wake up a still sleeping Carl

Looking around there wasn’t anyone up yet so I went at sat at the camp fire that still had some embers burning

“Hey, what’re ya doing up so early” I hear next to me seeing it’s Daryl again, usually he’d have a snippy attitude with the others in the camp but lately he’s been nice to me and I honestly didn’t care why I just needed someone to cheer me up

“Just couldn’t sleep much I guess, I’ve got a lot on my mind” I say poking at the fire

“Here” he grunted handing me a granola bar he must’ve gotten from his stash

“Thanks”

Then he was gone dissapearing through the thick tree line most likely going for a hunt again

Slowly people started to filter out of their tents and start getting ready for the day, I see Shane making his way towards me with his typical scowl that he never use to use towards me, I look away and turn my back to him

“Have you calmed down since last night” I scoff looking up at him as he towered over me trying to scare me asserting his dominance

“Just leave me alone, you only act like I matter when someone else is giving me attention, tell me do you even love me anymore?” He paused for a moment before answering

“Of course you just gotta stop being selfish I’m trying to console a grieving widow”

“Yeah well he was my brother Shane, did you forget that, just get away from me” I brush past him going towards the trees for some peace and quiet but when I’m deeper in the woods I feel him behind me squeezing my shoulder and he pushes me against a tree

“Shane what are you doing let me go”

“You better watch your mouth don’t forget who saved you when all this started” now he’s trying to guilt trip me

“I could’ve made it on my own, I probably would’ve been happier alone” he raised his hand before a bow zipped between us landing on the tree next to us

“You touch her like that again don’t think I would beat your ass down” Daryl growled coming closer taking my hand and putting me behind him as he stared down Shane

“You think you could take me Dixon, you may be a filthy redneck but don’t think I won’t take YOU”

“Shane just go away, why don’t you go check on poor Lori” I say holding onto Daryl’s arm tighter out of fear, a fear I’ve never felt around Shane before

He huffed before tromping off back towards the camp, when he was far enough away I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding as I let all the emotions flood me

“God Daryl I’m so sorry to get you mixed in this, I don’t…..I don’t know why he’s like this, he never us to treat me like this and I’m…..I’m scared to be around him now” he takes both my shoulders in his hands and makes me face him gently

“It ain’t yer fault peach, I’ve been around my share of angry men and he’s a ticking time bomb, ya can’t be stay around him”

“If you can’t tell I don’t have no where else to go” my chest felt like it had a thousand bricks on it

“Ya can stay next ta me, we got an extra tent”

“Are you sure, what about Merle won’t he be mad”

“I can deal with that grump, come on let’s get ya settled” I’ve never heard Daryl speak so much but I can’t complain he’s like my saviour right now

•

We got the little tent sat up next to him that was a bit further away from the others but I didn’t care much, the further I am from Shane the better

“Thanks for all this Daryl” I say as we both finally settle down around the fire he sat up since night was falling

“Look at this, my lil bro got himself some tail” Daryl was cut of before he could speak by Merle’s grating voice as he plopped down across from us at the fire

“Merle give it up”

“She staying here now, good ta know we got some action right next door” he grins that sends unsettling chills down my spine

“I’m not doing that Merle for the thousandth time, I just needed some space”

“Finally figured out yer cop boyfriend is cheatin on ya?” My heart stopped, suddenly everything made sense, why he always stayed with Lori, why they’d both dissapear at the same time, why Lori could barely look me in the eyes

“Oh my god I feel so stupid how did I not notice I must look so pathetic to everyone” I groan as I drop my head in my hands

“He dont deserve ya, he’s the pathetic one” Daryl said softly as I heard Merle’s steps retreating into his tent, Daryl must’ve shooed him off

“You know why my brother first got shot I was a mess, couldn’t leave his side I was always so filled with anxiety I was basically wasting away but one day Shane convinced me to take a day to myself so I did, I went home and cleaned up and everything, the next thing I know Shane is busting in dragging me to the truck telling me everyone is dropping like flies and my brothers dead, then suddenly he treats me like a piece of trash, only Lori mattered, and…..he almost hit me today, that’s not the man I knew something’s wrong with him, sure he’s always been a bit hot tempered but this is different and all I can think about is……what is he comes after me again but no one’s there to help me” I sigh finally letting everything off my chest

“Ya ain’t goin no where alone anymore, I’ll protect ya” he said gently placing a hand on my back for a moment before it was gone again

“I can’t ask that of you, I’m not your problem”

“Believe it or not, yer the only person in this camp that doesn’t drive me up the wall, I’d like ta keep ya around a lil longer” he smiled as his words cheered me up a bit, I’ve never seen him genuinely smile and it’s making me feel all light headed

“Let’s head to bed……it’s been a long day” I stand up heading to my little tent as he did his next to mine

“Night D”

“Night Peach” his gaze stayed on me for a moment longer before he entered his tent, only making me think what life would be like if I had met Daryl first maybe I’d me happier

•

Part 2 is on its way!! Lmk how you liked this chapter

[dreamauri]

♪ — 𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘𝗥𝗦 𝗥𝗢𝗖𝗞 - part twelve max verstappen x fem! driver! reader ( fluff ) series summary . . . when the lives of an f1 and WEC prodigies collide, they find out they find out that they’re not that different and carve out a place for themselves in each other's hearts. the commentators from Sky Sports call this Lovers Rock.

( fic master list | general master list ) ( previous | next )

fic summary . . . following the chaotic aftermath of the crash, tensions rise as the world critiques ferrari’s celebration amidst Yn’s hospitalization. social media erupts with outrage, questioning Ferrari’s priorities and empathy. the conflict boils down to a pivotal decision: ferrari or no ferrari.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The online world was ablaze. Ferrari’s celebratory posts about their victory at Le Mans were met with sharp backlash. Pictures of champagne spraying and team-wide smiles clashed brutally against the grim footage of your crash, circulating side by side.

“How can they celebrate while Yn’s in the hospital?”

“Heartless. They’re treating her like a pawn.”

“Ferrari needs to do better. This isn’t just about winning.”

The comments stung, but not as much as the phone call with your team principal. Max stood outside the hospital room, arms crossed, his expression darkening as he overheard your conversation.

“But I—” your voice, small but tinged with frustration, filtered through the cracked door.

“Yn, it’s not personal. Be happy for the team,” your team principal said dismissively. “You’re fine now, aren’t you? Focus on recovery.”

Max didn’t need to hear more. He clenched his fists, walking away from the door to avoid the urge to yell. He hated how they were treating you, brushing aside your near-miss as if it was just another footnote in a race.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The Monaco apartment was dim and quiet, a sanctuary from the noise and chaos of the past few days. Max helped you through the door, his hand steady on your back as you shuffled inside. The familiar scent of home—clean linen, faint lavender, and a hint of Max’s cologne—wrapped around you, offering a semblance of comfort.

“Here we go,” Max murmured softly, guiding you toward the couch. The sunglasses and noise-canceling headphones you’d relied on for days felt heavy, unnecessary in the soothing stillness of the room. He stopped you gently before you could sit down, crouching to untie your shoes.

“You don’t have to—” you began, but he shook his head, his fingers deftly working the laces.

“Let me,” he said simply, slipping them off and setting them neatly by the door.

You lowered yourself onto the couch, the cushions cool against your back. Marshmallow settled immediately at your feet, his head resting on your ankle, while Sauce wagged his tail impatiently, too small to jump up.

“Hold on, buddy,” Max said with a chuckle, scooping up the tiny dachshund and placing him beside you. Sauce gave an enthusiastic bark before curling up in the crook of your leg.

Before you could lean back, two familiar meows drew your attention. Sassy, the sleek tabby, and Jimmy, the fluffball of mischief, sauntered into the room with their usual air of superiority. Sassy jumped gracefully onto your lap, her purring vibrating against your chest as she made herself comfortable. Jimmy followed, nuzzling your shoulder before flopping against your side with a satisfied sigh.

Max smiled at the sight, his hands moving to the sides of your head. “Let’s get these off,” he said softly, removing your sunglasses and headphones. His blue eyes searched yours for any sign of discomfort, and when you didn’t protest, he leaned down to kiss your temple.

Then your cheek.

Your nose.

Your chin.

Each press of his lips was gentle, deliberate, as if he could will away the fatigue etched into your features. You let out a quiet hum of contentment, leaning into his touch.

“How does that feel?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Better,” you murmured, your fingers brushing over Sassy’s fur absentmindedly.

Max settled beside you, his arm draping over the back of the couch. You shifted, lying down with your head on his lap. The exhaustion that had weighed on you for days felt a little lighter, the emptiness a little less vast.

His hand found yours, his fingers threading through yours loosely. You traced the lines of his palm with your thumb, the quiet intimacy grounding you.

“Do you want to talk?” he asked after a while, his other hand stroking your hair gently.

You shook your head. “Not now,” you said softly. “Just . . . stay.”

“I’m not going anywhere,”

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The press conference room buzzed with the usual pre-race energy, a cacophony of camera shutters and murmurs from journalists. Max sat in the center, arms crossed loosely as he leaned back in his chair. To his left, Lando was fidgeting with his microphone, clearly in a playful mood, while Fernando sat to Max’s right, his expression calm and inscrutable. Charles rounded out the group, answering a question about the car’s development with his usual diplomatic charm.

Max’s mind drifted. These sessions were tedious—sitting under bright lights, idly chatting with the others, waiting for a question to come his way. It was part of the job, but today, he found it harder to stay present.

“Max, Fernando, how’s Yn doing after the crash?” a journalist finally asked, their tone both curious and concerned.

Max straightened slightly, glancing at Fernando before answering. “She’s alright,” he said, his voice steady but soft. “I’ve just been doing dog-walking duties while she rests—not that I’m complaining.”

The room chuckled lightly, and Max allowed a faint smile to tug at his lips.

Fernando cleared his throat, leaning toward his mic with a serious expression. “Yn is a fighter. I’ve known her for years, and if there’s one thing she doesn’t do, it’s give up. She’ll be back stronger, no doubt about it.” His words carried a weight that made the room quiet for a moment.

Lando, however, couldn’t resist. He leaned forward, his mischievous grin already in place. “Yeah, she’s recovering. But I’ve got to say, she did forget the arrangement of the Spanish alphabet last time I saw her.” His attempt to keep a straight face failed miserably, his shoulders shaking as he stifled a laugh.

Fernando turned to Lando, shaking his head and clicking his tongue in disapproval. “You’re impossible,” he muttered, though there was a glint of amusement in his eyes.

“Come on, it was funny,” Lando said, throwing his hands up defensively, earning a few more chuckles from the room.

Max couldn’t help but smirk, shaking his head at the dynamic between the two. “That’s why Yn doesn’t trust you with her dogs,” he quipped, drawing more laughter.

Charles chimed in with a grin. “Probably for the best. Lando can’t even keep his phone intact, let alone Sauce.”

The press conference finally wrapped up, the drivers filtering out into the paddock with varying levels of enthusiasm. Max pulled out his phone, checking for messages as Charles walked beside him, a light laugh escaping his lips. Lando trailed behind, still chuckling to himself about his earlier comment.

Max’s phone buzzed in his hand, your name flashing across the screen. He immediately answered, his voice softening as he spoke. “Hey, schatje.”

“Max,” you said, your tone sharp but amused. “Put Lando on the phone. Now.”

Max’s eyebrows shot up as he glanced over his shoulder at Lando. “Uh, Lando? It’s for you.”

Lando stopped mid-stride, his expression puzzled as Max handed him the phone. “Hello?”

The second Lando spoke, you launched into your tirade. “Lando Norris, what were you thinking, telling the whole world I forgot the Spanish alphabet? Do you ever think before you open your mouth?”

Lando winced, holding the phone slightly away from his ear as he tried to defend himself. “It was just a joke, Yn! Come on—”

You didn’t let him finish. “Do you know how many people speak Spanish, Lando? Half of them are already tweeting that I’ve lost my mind. Qué desastre. Esto es ridículo. ¿Por qué eres así?”

Hearing the switch to Spanish, Charles burst into laughter, clutching his side as he leaned against Max for support. “Oh no, now she’s really mad,” Charles managed between laughs.

Max smirked, crossing his arms as he watched Lando squirm. “You brought this on yourself,” he teased, his tone full of amusement.

Just then, Carlos walked out of the media pen, pausing when he caught the unmistakable sound of your voice over the phone. “Is that Yn?” he asked, his brow furrowing as he looked between the laughing Charles and Max, who was thoroughly enjoying the scene.

“She’s scolding Lando,” Charles explained, his voice still shaking with laughter.

Carlos raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching into a smirk. “What did you do to make her so angry, Lando?”

Lando held up a hand, mouthing, Help me, as you continued your spirited rant.

“She found out about his comment in the press conference,” Charles said, barely able to get the words out as he doubled over in laughter.

Fernando strolled past, catching sight of the scene. He waved at Max before addressing the phone. “Yn, ¿cómo estás? How are you feeling?”

Hearing Fernando’s voice, your tone softened slightly. “Estoy bien, Nando. Gracias por preguntar,” you replied, though you didn’t completely drop the sternness as you turned back to Lando. “But I’m still dealing with this British . . .  Thingy!”

"Thingy?!" Lando exclaimed in offence, putting a hand on his chest. "British thingy?! How dare you! I'm your best friend!"

Max finally took pity on Lando, reaching out to retrieve the phone. “Alright, Yn. I think he’s learned his lesson,” he said, his voice tinged with humour.

You sighed audibly on the other end. “Fine. But tell him if he does it again, I’m sending Marshmallow after him.”

Max chuckled, his blue eyes sparkling as he looked over Lando's shoulder at his phone screen. You'd just opened your FaceTime camera to flip Lando off.

“Thanks for that,” Lando said dryly, handing the phone back to Max as Charles and Carlos laughed openly at his expense.

“She’s scary when she’s mad,” Lando muttered.

Max just shrugged, his grin widening. “I think it’s kind of hot.”

“You’re gross,” Carlos quickly switched up, giving Max a disgusted look.

The Austrian GP paddock hummed with energy, the bright afternoon sun reflecting off the sea of team colours and camera flashes. Walking beside Max in your new Red Bull uniform, you were still adjusting to the surreal switch. Your sunglasses, though mostly to protect your still-sensitive eyes, doubled as a shield against the overwhelming buzz around you.

You barely had time to adjust to the atmosphere before a familiar voice pierced through the noise.

“Yn!”

You turned just in time to see your little brother sprinting toward you, his little frame colliding with your legs as he threw his arms around you tightly. The emotion in his voice cracked as he hugged you like he’d never let go.

“Luca!” you exclaimed, your surprise melting into affection as you scooped him up with ease. His arms wrapped around your neck, his grip desperate, like he’d been holding back tears.

“I was so worried about you!” he blurted, his face pressing into your shoulder.

Your heart ached, but you smiled softly, trying to ease his concern. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. I’m fine,” you reassured him, brushing back his messy hair as you held him close. “Especially now that you’re here.”

Luca pulled back slightly, his small hand reaching for your sunglasses. “Can I see your eyes? Are they still hurt?”

You laughed quietly, letting him lift the sunglasses off your face. His wide, concerned brown eyes searched yours, as if checking for damage.

“I’m much better now,” you said, smoothing his hair with gentle fingers. “See? Good as new.”

Max stood nearby, watching the scene unfold with quiet amusement and curiosity. “And who’s this?” he asked, his tone warm.

“This,” you said, adjusting Luca on your hip, “is Luca. My little brother. Luca, this is Max.”

Luca’s eyes widened slightly. “Max Verstappen.”

Max chuckled, holding out a hand to the boy. “The one and only.”

Luca shyly took Max’s hand, shaking it like he was meeting royalty. “Papa told me you're really fast,” he said, his voice filled with awe.

Max grinned. “I try to keep up. I heard your sister’s even faster, though.”

Luca beamed at the compliment, his earlier worry forgotten as he turned back to you. “You’re still the best, Yn.”

Before you could respond, a nervous figure lingered in your peripheral vision. You turned slightly, spotting your mom standing a few steps away, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. Natalia. She looked relieved and hesitant all at once, her eyes darting between you and Max.

“Mom was really worried,” Luca whispered, leaning close to your ear as if sharing a secret.

You gave a faint nod, your stomach twisting slightly. “I can see that,” you murmured.

Natalia gave Max a tentative wave, her lips twitching into a nervous smile. Max, ever the diplomat, returned the gesture, though his gaze flickered back to you, as if silently asking if you were okay.

You didn’t meet Natalia's eyes directly when she stepped closer, her hand brushing lightly against your arm. The touch was featherlight, almost hesitant, but you felt it nonetheless.

“I’m glad you’re alright,” she said softly, her voice almost lost in the noise of the paddock.

You nodded curtly, playing it off as if it didn’t mean much. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

Her hand lingered for a moment before she pulled it away, her expression unreadable.

Later, in the Red Bull hospitality unit, Max stood near the windows, scrolling idly through his phone as the sun streamed through the glass. When he noticed Natalia approaching, her steps tentative and slow, he slipped his phone into his pocket, giving her his full attention. She looked more frazzled than before, her grip on her purse strap so tight that her knuckles were white.

“Thank you,” she began softly, her voice barely audible. “For looking out for Yn.”

Max inclined his head slightly, his expression neutral but kind. Something in her tone, the weight behind her words, made him straighten.

“She . . . is important to me,” he said simply, his voice steady and warm. “I’d do anything for her.”

Natalia nodded, but instead of relief, her shoulders sagged further. Her lips pressed together as if trying to contain the torrent of emotions threatening to spill over. She glanced toward glass windows upon which she could see you sitting outside with the sky sports presenter, her gaze lingering as though searching for something.

“When I saw the crash,” she began, her voice trembling, “when I heard what happened, all I could think about was losing her. It felt so real—too real. For a moment, I thought I might never get to . . . fix things.”

Her words faltered, but she pushed on, her breaths uneven. “I can’t—Max, I can’t bear the thought of being on bad terms with her anymore. If something had happened, if she . . . if she didn’t come back, and I never got the chance to make things right . . . ” Her voice broke, tears shimmering in her eyes. “I don’t know how I’d live with that.”

She finally met Max’s gaze, her vulnerability laid bare. “I don’t even know where to start. Every time I try, she pulls away. And I don’t blame her—I deserve it.”

Max’s expression softened, a rare tenderness softening the sharp edges of his features. “She’s sttuborn,” he said gently, “but she’s not unkind. She notices the little things, even when she acts like she doesn’t.” He leaned slightly forward, his voice steady and sure. “Start small. Show her you mean it. She might not say anything at first, but she’ll feel it. Just . . . don’t give up on her. Give her some time.”

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Later that day, you were filming a TikTok for your new team, a playful math quiz with a twist. Max lounged beside you, his arms crossed, watching your antics with an amused glint in his eyes.

“What’s the square root of 81?” you hummed, trying not to grin too wide at Max who sat beside you, filming his own little tiktok challanges. Out of all the games and filters you could try on tiktok, the admin chose math.

Max arched a brow, clearly unimpressed. “Who do you think I am? I didn’t even graduate,” he deadpanned.

You tilted your head, feigning deep thought before flashing a mischievous smile. “Oscar Piastri.”

Max blinked, processing your response. “Oscar Piastri is the square root of 81?”

“Exactly,” you said confidently, maintaining your best poker face.

Max stared at you, his confusion morphing into reluctant amusement. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You love it,” you quipped, grinning as you turned back to the camera.

By the time the video was posted, the comments section was ablaze. Fans immediately picked up on the joke, flooding the post with references to Oscar’s car number. Max, glancing over your shoulder at the chaos you’d caused, shook his head with a smirk.

“You’re unbelievable,” he muttered, his tone tinged with affection as he leaned closer to watch you type your cheeky replies to the fans.

[phantomwithbreakfast]

✩ ~ If You Know, You Know ~ ✩

If you’re adrift in your own vivid, imaginary world, you know. If your mind doesn’t follow the typical pathways, you know.

(A kind of animated thing at the end of this)

———————

The sunlight stretched long fingers through my window, spilling warm streaks across the cluttered floor. Paints, pencils, and half-finished sketches surrounded me, a small fortress of creative chaos. I was deep into it—lost in the rhythm of sketching lines that might, just might, lead somewhere—when Danny appeared.

At first, he was just a shadow in the corner of my eye, a faint blur of movement. But then, as if the sunlight solidified him, he stood there, leaning casually against the wall like he’d always been a part of this room.

“Working hard or hardly working?” he teased me, that lopsided grin of his making me smile despite myself.

I waved him off, pretending I was drawing. “What do you think, genius?”

Danny didn’t answer.

Of course, he didn’t.

He never gave me that satisfaction. So instead, he plopped himself on my desk chair and began whistling.

“Do you mind?” I asked, feigning irritation.

He shrugged. “Not really.”

I rolled my eyes and tried to concentrate, but Danny had other plans. He started tapping his fingers on my desk, drumming out some rhythm that had no beginning and no end. When that didn’t get a rise out of me, he started humming—soft at first, then louder, adding lyrics that made absolutely no freaking sense.

“Danny!”

“What? You looked like you needed a break.”

“I don’t.”

“You sure?” He grinned wider and reached over to nudge one of my pencils off the desk. It clattered to the floor, joining the others he’d already scattered.

This was the thing about Danny. He didn’t come when I needed him, not really. He came when I thought I didn’t need anyone. He came when I was so buried in my own mind—in every single way possible—that I didn’t notice the sunlight anymore or the way the world felt alive outside these four walls.

If you know, you know. If you’re the kind of person whose head is so full of ideas it feels like it might burst, you know what it’s like to have a Danny. Someone that pulls you out of your own brain and reminds you there’s more to life than the next line, the next stroke, the next brilliant thought.

“Okay, fine,” I sighed, setting my pencil down. “You win.”

Danny lit up like I’d handed him a trophy. “Excellent choice.”

He flopped onto the floor beside me against the wall, staring up at the ceiling like he was seeing constellations in the cracks of the plaster.

“So, what are we working on today?” He asked.

“I am working,” I corrected. “You are distracting.”

“Same difference.”

He turned his head to grin at me, and for a slight moment, I forgot all about the mess, the deadlines, the pressure.

It didn’t matter that Danny would probably be gone in a few hours, fading back into wherever he came from. What mattered was that right now, he was here. Pulling me out of myself, turning my messy little room into something brighter, something more alive.

And maybe that was the point of Danny. He wasn’t here to stay. He was here to remind me that sometimes, it’s okay to put the pencil down and just exist.

For a while, we just sat there, watching the sunlight move across the walls, filling the silence with his whistling and my laughter.

Again, if you know, you know.

———————

When my full hyper-fixated ADHD brain kicks in, this happens. Most of the time it’s just Phantom that shows up though, not Danny as Fenton. (I was doubting to post this, but yeah. I did it anyway)

———————

—OC: Hailey.

I’m that kind of a Phan… (っᵔ◡ᵔ)っ⋆˙⟡♡

Please, tell me I’m not the only one for Danny’s sake…

[southerngothicchic]

A Merry, Little Christmas Night

Merry Christmas, everyone! My gift to you is some Gator fluff 😘

Gator sits in his truck, holding a small velvet box. He stares at it for the longest time before tearing his eyes away from it to look over at your house. He sees the brightly lit Christmas tree through the window and the multicolor string lights that line the porch. It's a familiar sight that feels different tonight. The thought of seeing you makes him nervous, though he knows it shouldn't. He worries you'll reject him like so many have before. He doesn't think he would survive that, as you're the only person who really means anything to him.

He sighs before putting the box in his pocket and opening the door. Snow crunches under his boots as he walks up the slippery path towards the porch.

The sound of his heavy footsteps echoes off the old wood and in his ears as he briefly pauses at the front door. His hand hovers over the doorknob, his nerves almost getting the best of him before he goes inside.

He's immediately greeted with warmth not just from the baseboard heaters but from the overall mood in the house. He passes through the living room, fondly observing the decorations that have been there since Thanksgiving. His eyes are then drawn to the muted TV playing National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation. He smiles, knowing it's your favorite Christmas movie. It's then that he notices the scent of cinnamon in the air.

He reaches the kitchen doorway and just watches as you take a tray of cookies from the oven. You seem to be in your own little world as you set the tray on the counter before adjusting the oven's temperature to bake the last of the dinner rolls to accompany the rest of your Christmas feast. Once you put them in, you turn away towards the sink and that's when he decides to finally make his move.

He stands behind you, slipping his arms around your waist and presses his lips to your ear.

"Hey gorgeous," he softly greets, startling you.

You hiss his name before turning to look at him.

"You shouldn't sneak up on me like that," you scold, turning to face him.

"I couldn't help myself, wanted to surprise ya," he defends, pulling you tightly against him.

"Its okay," you then smile. "I'm just glad you're home. I heard we're in for another snowstorm tonight and I hated the thought of you still out on the road."

"I can handle myself out there, honey, ya know that," he replies, confident.

"I know, but still-"

"Nope, don't wanna hear it," he dismisses, cradling your face. "Just wanna kiss ya, since I've gone all day without it."

"So dramatic," you tease, as he leans in.

"Damn, so mouthy already," he smirks. "I think I need to take ya to bed and give ya an attitude adjustment."

"Not until after we eat," you reply, unfazed. "I didn't spend all day slaving over all this food for nothing."

"Fine," he huffs, with playful annoyance.

He then finally kisses you and it's more intense than you expect. Your body melts into his as he kisses you deeply. Regaining yourself, you gently push him away with a sigh of his name.

"I just really missed ya, honey," he says, suddenly bashful.

You smile up at him. "I know, I missed you, too, handsome. Now, go get changed so we can eat."

He nods, begrudgingly releasing you from his embrace. He gives you one last peck on the lips before heading towards the back bedroom.

He's glad to change into warmer, more comfortable clothes, as he puts on a forest green sweatshirt with black sweatpants. He also takes the little velvet box from his camo pant pocket and holds it in his hand. He's decided he's going to ask you after dinner, with hopes that he won't ruin Christmas.

When he reenteres the kitchen, he sees the table all set and waiting for him. He has to quickly blink away tears as he doesn't want you to see him cry just yet.

"Well, what do you think?" You ask, posing like a display model next to the table.

"Its perfect," he answers, walking over to you. "Just like you."

He kisses you sweetly and feels you smiling into it.

During dinner, he thinks how this is a preview of how all your Christmas' are going to be from now on and that almost brings another tear to his eye. He loves how effortless it was adjusting to the domesticity he's craved all his life. How you seemed to adore him, even when you pretended you didn't. He's never loved you more and his anxiety quietly builds as you join him on the couch to watch his favorite Christmas movie, Die Hard.

You hand him a couple of oatmeal raisin cookies you had baked earlier that afternoon and he quickly devours them. Giggling, you ask if he liked them and he nods so cutely. You hurry back to the kitchen and bring the rest of them to him, in a plastic bowl. He proceeds to eat them over the course of the movie.

By the time the credits roll, you're curled into his side, almost asleep. He glances at you before gently nudging you awake. You then look up at him, so groggy and sweet, he thinks his heart could burst.

"Sorry, honey, I just have something really important I wanna talk to ya about," he explains, as you raise your head from his chest.

"Okay..." you reply, unsure of what could be so important he waited to tell you now.

"Wait, you don't have to work tomorrow, do you? I swear, the next time I see Roy I'm gonna-"

"No, it's not that. I'm off, don't worry" he quickly assures. "It doesn't have anything to do with work, it's about you and me."

Your brows furrow as you look at him intently.

"Am I going to like where this is heading?" You then ask.

"Yeah, well, I hope so," he answers before taking a deep breath. "Until I met you, I didn't know anything like this was possible for me. A lot of girls thought I was a joke, which wasn't helped by my dad always makin' fun of me, so I really didn't date much after high school. I just focused on becomin' a cop, which wasn't hard, since I was the best shot in the academy. As years went on though, it got pretty lonely and I was startin' to wonder if there was anyone out there for me. Then, one day you showed up and when I walked up to your window and looked inside, I got this feeling, like, it was fate."

"So, love at first sight on a traffic stop?" You ask with a smile and he nods.

"Yeah, guess it was, because after that I always wanted to be near ya," he smiles, in return, gently taking your hands.

"I guess I was pretty smitten when I first saw you, too," you admit, gazing into his eyes. "You were the cutest cop I'd ever seen."

"I could tell ya liked me right off," he grins, "and after our first date, when I kissed ya for the first time, I didn't want to stop."

You move closer to him, wrapping your legs around his waist.

"I didn't want you to, either," you reply, sultrily.

You slip your hands out of his and drape your arms around his neck.

"Like, right now," he begins, his eyes lowering to your lips. "If I were to kiss ya, I wouldn't be able to stop."

"Which is what I'm counting on," you smile, but he pulls away.

"I can't yet, I still have more to say," he replies.

You nod and he continues, "I love you more than I ever thought I could love someone and I don't want to ever go back to how my life was before you, so..."

He leans back slightly and reaches into his pocket and retrieves the small box. Once you see it, your eyes widen and your arms drop from his shoulders.

"Will you marry me?" He asks while opening the box, revealing a modest diamond ring.

You actually gasp, already making him regret asking.

"I know it's not much, but I-" he adds before you lean forward and press your lips to his.

He doesn't move at first, unsure of what's happening.

"Yes," you breathe as you kiss his plush lips.

You repeat the word a few more times and his brain finally registers it. He then excitedly reciprocates your kiss. You both get so caught up in each other, temporarily forgetting what led to this impromptu makeout session.

"So," he pants, pressing his forehead to yours, "you really wanna marry me?"

"I do, is that so hard for you to believe?"

"Kinda, when you're like the girl of my dreams..." he answers

"Who knew you could be so sweet?" You ask with a laugh. "I think you need to make it official, though."

You pull away slightly and present your left hand. A lovesick smile spreads across his lips as he takes the ring from the box. He slips it onto your finger and is relieved when it fits perfectly.

"I love it," you say, holding up your hand. "And I love you."

"I love you, too," he begins, with a sly smile. "Now, wrap your legs around me again so I can finally take ya to bed."

You smile in return, moving closer and tightening your legs around him. He then lifts you with ease and carries you to the bedroom.

He then spends the rest of the night showing how much he loves you, until you both collapse in each other's arms, covered in hickies and sweat.

As he drifts off to sleep, a feeling of calm settles over him, for the first time. His fears of rejection seem so silly now when you're laying in his arms, so sweet and serene. He should've known all along that you'd never hurt him like that. He sighs contently before nuzzling his face into your neck.

After so many years of emptiness, he's finally found a place where he belongs and the love he's craved all his life.

[randomciabatta724]

Some other stuff that happens in the Lonely wolf AU (might change if I get better ideas)

Polites stays kneeled next to Odysseus' body, frozen in place, while the club keeps going down (Survive)

Athena screams at Polites (My goodbye)

Eurylochus becomes the new captain

Polites blames himself for Odysseus' death

Polites begs Poseidon for mercy (it doesn't work) Edit: I just got an idea that it could be something like "Please, Poseidon, we didn't mean to offend you and we apologize for hurting your son, isn't there anything else we could offer you instead of our lives?" And Poseidon just says no (Ruthlessness)

Wouldn't you like stays pretty much the same

Dead Odysseus appears (The Underworld)

Polites declares he will do anything to get the crew home (Monster)

Either both Siren Odysseus and Siren Eurylochus or just Siren Odysseus (Suffering)

Polites got all his mythology knowledge from Odysseus so he doesn't know everything, (example: he knows about the sirens but not Scylla) (Suffering/Different Beast, Scylla)

Not really knowing what they're up against, they try fighting Scylla, but once it starts going badly Polites decides to sacrifice himself to save the others (imagine him standing there, holding the only lit torch on the ship) (Scylla)

Eurylochus pulls him away, Scylla eats the arm holding the torch, Polites passes out from blood loss while Eurylochus is screaming "What were you thinking?!" and similar at him (Scylla, Mutiny)

Eurylochus tries to convince Polites to kill the cows and have one last meal together, Polites begs him to reconsider (Mutiny)

Polites begs Zeus to spare the crew and kill him instead, but Zeus refuses (Thunderbringer)

When Polites wakes up on Calypso's island, it truly sinks in that Eurylochus is gone. She holds him while he screams (Love in paradise)

With the crew dead, Polites loses his drive to get home (Love in Paradise)

Polites and Calypso develop an unhealthy attachment to one another (Love in paradise)

Unlike Odysseus' "All I hear are screams", Polites sees his dead comrades, watching him in silence

Athena decides that her best chance to get rid of the suitors is to find someone from Odysseus' crew that survived (We'll be fine, Love in Paradise)

The ledge scene still happens but it's a bit different (Love in Paradise)

Polites agrees to go back to Ithaca only after Hermes tells him about the suitors (Not sorry for loving you)

He gives Calypso his red headband so she can remember him (Not sorry for loving you)

Hermes gives him a blue headband (Dangerous)

Polites tries to convince Poseidon to let things go (it doesn't work pt.2) (Get in the water)

Polites stabs Poseidon until his arms go numb (might also throw some ugly crying in there) (Six-hundred strike)

Polites doesn't attempt the challenge both because he knows he can't pass (Growing up with Odysseus, I imagine he learned how to string his bow but can't shoot through the axes) and out of respect for Odysseus (The challenge)

Polites decapitates Antinous (Hold them Down)

Telemachus mistakes Polites for Odysseus (I can't help but wonder)

Polites delivers the news of Odysseus' death to Penelope and apologises in tears (Would you fall in love with me again)

Polites tells Penelope he's going to leave, insisting that there's nothing left for him in Ithaca and that he doesn't want her and Telemachus to be bothered by his presence while they're grieving (Would you fall in love with me again)

Penelope, not wanting to lose the only other person that could know how she feels and having a feeling that by "leaving" Polites doesn't mean moving away, asks him to mentor Telemachus. Polites accepts (insert very touching "You are wanted and you are needed here" scene) (Would you fall in love with me again)

Polites tells Telemachus stories about Odysseus and Eurylochus (future)

Polites starts learning how to play the lyre (future)

Polites has a garden with six-hundred stones, one for every comrade he lost and some flowers for Calypso (future)

Polites starts wearing a purple headband (future)

Polites and Penelope sometimes sit together in silence (future)

Polites doesn't know why he keeps living, he just does. With time, it gets a bit easier, but he still struggles finding purpose (future)

[theredpharaoah]

Reading comprehension is at an all time low. You way too in your feelings over my lil Merthur post. Fanfiction wasn’t part of my argument brain trust. I brought that up in regards to her finding out about Merthur from TikTok. I never said anything about fanfiction providing evidence for this ship in the show. No one knows their character better than the actors and they interpreted their characters as being attracted to one another. The writers also interpreted it that way. Where was I nasty to Gwen? I’ve never had a problem with Gwen. I’m a fem black individual myself - I loved Gwen. I wanted them to do more with her and they did not. I literally stated that just as Merthur is the dominant ship in the fandom, Morgwen is right there next to it.

Ok, let’s talk about Gwen and Arthur’s marriage….it ain’t shit to say cuz it gave nothing. It was boring, stale, and Arthur never seemed to care for her as much as he did Merlin. And I never said Gwen and Arthur’s relationship was fake. The OP said that BOTH Merlin and Arthur liked Gwen. Which is why I specifically said that Gwen and Merlin’s little bit of attraction in season 1 gave “girl falls in love with gay boy because she thinks he’s sweet and charming”.

Pump the brakes. Who the fuck is going ”uwu”? I am not one of these lil smol bean bitches you used to dealing with on this app. We could meet up in real life and see what you really about, trust. You have a difference in opinion and that’s fine, but you ain’t have to come up in here being disrespectful. Furthermore, I didn’t diminish, replace, insult or ignore Gwen. But if I wanted to do that, I damn sure would do that and ain’t shit you could or would do about it. Know that.

Now on to the next one:

Nobody ever said or thought “Arthur was just using Gwen for her womb”. Please keep your assumptions and bullshit to the people you know and not me. I never said the authors didn’t write that they were in love. They TOLD us that on multiple occasions. But when it comes to writing it’s better to show and not tell. If you have to do the latter then usually there’s something wrong with the writing. The subtext(because yes, that does exist. Shocking I know.) reads Merthur. And that makes sense since that was what the writers intended. There’s some shit on one of the Blue rays where a writer literally says it’s a love story between two men. It’s as platonic as Xena and Gabrielle. I said Gwen doesn’t have chemistry with anyone and I was mostly talking about Merlin and Arthur. But no I don’t think she had much chemistry with anyone because I don’t think her character was ever developed all that greatly to begin with. She’s a side character. This whole conversation is hilarious because you two are both working off of these crazy ass assumptions. The main one seems to be that I’m some white person when I’m not only black and fem, but an anthropologist and philosopher who primarily studies race/gender and spirituality religion - specifically in relation to black peoples mostly. My entire life revolves around me being black and fem. So go on ahead and miss me with all this “all the white boy characters are just so lovable” shit, cuz that was never in my thought process. Again, never stated that the Merthur subtext was diminishing anything. I simply stated that it was clear that Merthur was the ship of the show. And again, the writer and I believe Katie said on the season 5 tape that the show was a love story between Merlin and Arthur. I never lied about the canon material. I stated how I saw Merlin and Gwen’s relationship in season one. You are attributing a bunch of shit to a short and quick post that was never even stated. Again, where is it even implied I said omegaverse fanfiction was canon? I specifically brought that up in relation to her saying she learned about Merthur from TikTok. It was the usual “Yall wasn’t there in the trenches with us” type of statement. Both you sorry ass hoes need to learn how to read. Maybe print out the post next time and annotate it or something. Idk. Yall are referring to a bunch of shit that was never said by me. Both of you are working entirely off of assumptions about me that are not at all true. The first fool said some “uwu ships wars are dumb” shit and you over here talking about white boys and “we gays”. Keep it cute cuz I’m definitely the bitch to make it ugly. I am NOT one of them smol bean bitches. Metaphorically speaking; the only trigger warning you gon get from me is the sound of the bullet firing.

You started with a good premise but now I think you’re actually insane. Merlin and Arthur had tension from day one. I was a child and I knew they were gay for one another. Gwen didn’t have chemistry with anyone - least of all Merlin. Merlin wasn’t interested in Gwen at all. Season 1 read as when the girl falls for the gay boy cuz he’s so nice and sweet. The actors shipped Merthur. The writers shipped Merthur and they wanted the fandom to ship Merthur. The only reason they probably didn’t explicitly put it in the show was because of the time we were in. The writers and fandom have always been gay af. Because right next to Merthur is Morgwen and after that, Gwen/Lancelot. This is not at all an example of what you’re talking about. Also, TikTok? Did you just start watching the show? Watch it again please. And then watch it another time. Like we were reading/writing Merthur fanfic in 2008. I was on mf livejournal reading A/B/O dynamics Merthur fanfics. Hello??!!! Like maybe it’s because I’ve been in this fandom for over a decade - Merthur was my first fandom - but I’m literally so affronted and flabbergasted. How do you even-

[xetlynn]

an artists muse- a viktor fic.

twelve.

[eleven] [twelve] [the end]

a silent admirer.

“Five weeks until the Thanksgiving art show. Five weeks to get your sculptures done.” Shoola announces with a stack of papers in their arm as they walk toward the back of the class. “Here are fliers for it. It tells you the date, time and what will be given out. We will be holding a contest with prizes. There will be food and drinks.” They dryly inform everyone with a bored expression plastered on their face as they begin handing out the fliers. 

And as the paper smacks down in front of you, you excitedly read it over. November 19th, 2024 Piltover University’s Art Show. It was a little plain but very neat and tidy to get the point across. You were excited but nervous in the same breath. To get to do your first big sculpture in college. Last year you had a fine arts class that focused on painting. 

You were grateful that this year you had a class you preferred. Sculpting was an art you fell in love with as a child. 

The only problem you dealt with was the fleeting motivation as you grew older. You were only 20. 

“You will be given the materials for your sculptures next week and you will also be mandated to come every single day whenever you have a free period. Except for Saturday and Sunday.” They tell everyone, causing a tiny uproar. “Settle down. You signed up for this class. I don’t want to hear it.” They fold their arms, leaning against their desk at the front of the room. “Get to sketching, you only have a week to figure out your project.” 

You and the majority of the class open your sketch books. Most already have their sketches thought out. Adding details and little things they want to their bundle of clay. You sat there with… absolutely nothing. A blank canvas. Scanning your brain for something. What motivates you? What or who is your muse?

Would it be idiotic to put yourself?

Probably. 

And as the clock ticks. As you sit there, zoning out. Nothing comes up in your head. You know if you have nothing by the end of the week you are going to have to lie. Come up with something on the spot. 

The lecture is dismissed, as you pack your things you glance up to see Maddie heading toward you. You don’t even zip up your backpack as you rush out of the room. Averting a conversation with her. Gert and Ekko peering over to one another, confused by your abrupt leave. 

Honestly you needed a place without your friends to focus, attempt to figure out your muse. 

Those dear, familiar bells chime as you open the door. Smelling freshly baked treats along with strong dark roasted coffee. This place never did you dirty. Ole reliable. You quickly place in your coffee order, your second one of the day. On zero food. 

As you sip on the bitter but sweet drink you tap your pencil over the sketch book splayed out in front of you. Your muse… thinking about what your professor said last week on your crowd sketch. They thought you had found it. What were they looking at? You turn over to the page from that day. Observing what you had drawn that could give you some sort of… idea? Make up a lie based off of what could’ve been seen. 

Your pencil resumes tapping on the table. Every noise around distracts you, eyes lifting to see who’s leaving and entering the cafe. The bell chiming each and every time. 

This time around was no different as the door flicks open, you peer upward to see Viktor. You feel your heart palpitate as he enters, going toward the counter. His head moves the tiniest bit and the air in your lungs gets cut short, snapping back down at the sketch pad. 

He caught you looking at him though, you were far from discreet. The corner of his lips tugged upward. He’s missed your bubbly personality… Sure he has Jayce and Vi as substitutes but it’s not the same. You’re different… 

“Sir?” The worker before him speaks up, and he gapes back at her, mentally cursing at himself for spacing out. “Right, uh just the coffee. A-and the cherry danish.” He points over to the treat behind the glass. “Go ahead.” The worker motions to the card reader. Viktor places his phone on it, it chimes and he stuffs the device back in his pocket. 

“Here you are, have a good day.” The worker doesn’t even force a smile as she gives it to him. He only nods his head in response. Taking the small paper bag and coffee in its paper cup. Why’d he get the danish?

He hasn’t spoken to [Name] since last week. After throwing a tantrum about how she perceives him as boring. 

And as Viktor contemplates on how he’s going to give you the treat you were already subconsciously drawing something on the paper. Filling in that faceless person that stared back at you. Giving him features. 

The crinkle of the paper bag sounds in front of you, causing you to jump. Your eyes travel to the person now sitting on the other side of the table. “Viktor?” You grabble. “As a thank you for the coffee and coconut puff the other day.” He mutters out and you cock your head to the side. They weren’t supposed to tell him that you were the one-

“And an I’m sorry.” His gaze adverts from your own, now you were incredibly confused. Why’s he apologizing to you?

It was silent between the both of you. You were at a loss for words. 

“Is that me?” Viktor lifts your sketch pad, changing the subject. You furrow your brows. “Is what you?” You snatch the book back and scan over the page. “That.” His finger plaps down on the paper. “Looks too much like me to not be me.” He confidently boasts. You stare down at the figure that used to be faceless. For years this person never had a face. Never had special features. And now you gave him the face of a friend? Of Ma?

Viktor. 

“I guess it is.” You murmur, thoughts swarm in your head. You’ve been trying to disagree with the facts that laid out right before you. That whenever you spoke to Ma or Viktor you got this sudden motivation to draw, paint… sculpt. And when the two of you stopped speaking your art got a lot more depressing, messy even. 

“Who is it?” A younger voice pesters as you let out a loud laugh. “Ma, I don’t know! How many times do I have to tell you!” You choke out, the both of you observing your newest painting. “I don’t understand how you don’t know something you created.” He judges and you pout. 

“It’s just this feeling I have. I think. Just someone staring back at me, a familiar but not figure that I want to know but I can’t.” You explain, both lines are quiet now. “Is it me?” He inquires jokingly and the two of you giggle like little kids. “You wish!” You squeal, causing a squabble to begin between the two of you. 

You purse your lips out at the memory. Viktor lifts up your book once more. “Can I see your work?” He asks and you nod your head silently. You watched him flip through it, not wanting to say anything in worry that you’d ruin the moment. Ruin what’s happening between the both of you. You noticed the little movements in his face through each sketch and drawing he laid his own eyes on. “Lots of crowds.” He whispers. “That was always your specialty.” 

You guys finally meet eyes, an inaudible but knowing feeling between the both of you. It was as if only you two sat in the cafe. The noises from the others dispersed. Another wave of nostalgia hits you like a semi truck. 

“It looks stupid.” You pout your lips dramatically, glaring down at your painting that had taken you three hours at this moment. “Let me see.” Ma hums, you guys have been sitting on the call for said three hours since you had told him that his presence keeps you motivated. He questioned it but at the same time it was an excuse to be on the phone with you. How could he turn it down? 

“Just sent a picture.” You sigh, waiting for him to say something. “Your art needs to be in a museum, [Name].” He exclaims in a serious tone. It was of the moon and it was shining down on flowers. Viktor had told you his deep feelings and admiration for the moon. How beautiful it is beside all the stars in the sky. 

Lighting up the earth so dimly by the help of the sun. The beauty in needing something to shine brightly but also being enough on its own. His love for the moon should be studied. It inspired you, your work. He always told you he felt like the moon. Being so misunderstood and underestimated. And you always listened.

You often felt like the sun and the moon. Switching like night and day… ha. 

Not with Viktor though. As much as he thinks of himself as the moon. He’s a sun. Your sun. And you're his moon. He shines his light on you and you’re able to light paths on other’s darkness. Keep the oceans at peace. 

“Aw, you’re just saying that.” You wave your hand as if he can see it. “I’m serious. I’d pay to see this.” He compliments passionately. “I mean you still can. Give me fifty bucks.” You joke causing him to snort out a laugh. “You’re dumb.” He rolls his eyes and you could hear the smile plastered on his lips even though you know nothing of what he looks like. “You love me.” You shrug your shoulders. 

“I-” You pause yourself, pressing your lips together as you choose your next few words extremely carefully. But as soon as you go to say what you want to. What you wish to. You shake the thought away. Now going to your backpack and taking out the flyer. Shoving it over. “Come.” You spit out bluntly. 

He gently takes the paper from you, reading it over. Before he can even answer though, you take your sketchpad, cherry danish and pencil, throwing the bag over your shoulder and leaving. Leaving him with your empty cup and the flyer. He was stunned, not knowing if he should follow after you or stay put. 

But as your body disappears and he can no longer see you through the windows he thinks best to stay where he is. He’d never catch up to you anyways. 

Since that day, the two of you had made a silent pact to sit with one another again every morning. No words exchanged other than a grumble of a good morning. And every single day without fail you study his face as he pretends to act like he doesn’t feel you doing it. Sipping his roasted liquid and skimming through his own assignments. 

He didn’t mind feeling your eyes on him. Your presence around him. If you were quiet or talking his ear off. What had happened between the both of you surely left a scar. A scar that over time is healing. Finally not a scab that is repetitively picked at. 

soooo.... kinda got writers block but still wanted to get something out, it also wasn't as long as I thought it was going to be, my b. Next chapter is the end of this series. AHHHHHH

taglist:

@policedeer @ang3lz-lov3 @im-just-a-simp-le-whore @confusedgemposts @corpsepies @almostdrowningdown @obittwo @ren-ni @xx-siren-sings-xx @donnie-is-here @urmommt

[moeblob]

What Deacon thinks: what did that mean? did he want me to wear a collar too? why else would he mention my neck? i mean, if he /asked/ me i would wear one but he didn't so would wearing one be weird?

What Ymber meant: It's nice to be near someone who isn't tethered to this world to serve it with a physical reminder for all to see.

[blue-thief]

the order doesn't matter that much also the "not for me" tier can range from "man idgaf" to "WHAT THE FUCK"

[cute-little-fly]

This is what I think about the tumblr critical communities. I have seen good comments that come from good places, and is good to be critical about things you like so creators can put attention to it and improve. Criticism has a good side but also a bad one.

But criticism needs to be more objective. Try to understand what was meant, consider all the elements in the scenes and dialogues with the overarching story and at the end see what could have being done better and what was done good. List what did it fail? What did it worked? Why? This is the usual kind of criticism I have seen from movie analists, and how I think those should be. We will always disagree at some points, but at least try to see more.

But most criticisms here and in other webs are like: this is bad because it should be this way or this other way. Because it should have ended like this or that. Then, you will see somebody else comment the entire opposite. There is no real objectivity or deep analysis most of the times. Or they villanize characters.

Like, you are seeing Jynx arc bad because you don’t detach to how you think should have been. So, no wonder why you don’t understand the one being shown in the series. Is true that some themes in the series were left out and even softened, but we need to accept it. Is true Zaun and Piltover could have had a better resolution, and is kinda bad that they were in the focus in season 1 and that season 2 couldn’t make much place for them. Is true some arcs that the one of Mel could have been shorter. Some other scenes or desitions are also less thought. But even with all of that Arcane is still GOOD. For me this is what they fail to see. Arcane ending was anticlimactic and rushed in some parts, but if you consider the series overall and what it says and happened, is clearly good and super worth the watch.

We can’t do nothing about the fact that the writers room went from 13 people to 3 people. I don’t think the 3 people left are bad writers, but, the work of 13 people cannot be replaced by 3 people. The level of details and everything of course will be different because each person contributes with their best skill. Season 1 had a lot more details and things to analyze because of how many good writers they had.

I also hoped we were going to see a revolution Jynx and that she may redeem herself that way when Do you wanna come play was released. But it ended being a bummer and not happening that, and I am actually… fine? Amanda said that ending for the sisters was intended since the very beginning. Also, for me it makes sense to what we have seen of them. They were never revolutionaries but because of who they are they were always in the middle of the conflict.

So yeah… I think is a combination of all the headcanons people had after season 1 not really being intended by the show runners, that rubbing people the wrong way, and also some things being teased to misdirect made the series look bad because how few time there is for everything and those things teased keep the people hoping for certain things to happened.

Of course, I think some of those things people headcanoned really appeared to be what the series was going to be, and is a possibility that they changed those plans, or the writers in charge of that were the ones fired and the ones left didn’t knew how to do that properly with that short time…

Buuut, at the end, my point is… we should cherish what we have, the good, talk about what we could have had in a constructive way (not saying how the show was ruined and super bad, because you are shoving the amazing things under a rug) and how they should try to balance better the thematic elements for the next shows (and maybe plan better the level of production and see that having more writers is important and have a better team communication); without falling into only seeing the negative and ignore All the amazing things this series has. Even with its imperfections…

I saw a lot the critique of a writer that saw both the good and bad things this season had. He actually criticized mostly act III and how the sisters lost relevance being the ones more important at the beginning. Which is a very valid one. Arcane seen overall as one single thing is an amazing series. Is one of my highlights of 2024.

Yes I am very emotionally invested in Arcane, yes I do draw real life inspiration from it, yes my favorite character is based on who I relate to the most, but you know what I DON'T do? I don't equate the story as a complete mirror to reality. I don't think it's bad to tell stories with unhappy endings. I don't think it's bad to have problematic characters. I don't think it's bad to LIKE problematic characters. I can still separate fiction from reality. And I think it's great practice to have morally ambiguous stories so that we can have actual conversations about moral ambiguity outside of the sphere of real life.

Art is a great conduit to talk about real life issues. AND it's a great way to look closer at dark topics without drawing from real life situations. It is BOTH.

True critique knows the distinction and when to bounce between the two.