#what a weird mix of emotions this must be

[anantaru]

what about friends w benefits w aventurine but he's actually in love or something idkk im just love with ur writing♡⁠(⁠>⁠ ⁠ਊ⁠ ⁠<⁠)⁠♡

・✶ ｡ synopsis — aventurine and you have sworn that your special relationship would never cross the most important line <3

warnings — fwb, spooning position, big dick aventurine is in love, fem! reader <3

aventurine lays behind you as his nose silently forges a road up your neck and behind your ear for his lips to swiftly follow— for once, he controls himself and leisurely drapes one arm around your waist, pressing your back against his cold chest.

you cannot see it, yet his eyes glint with that familiar mix of curiosity and, well, something else— something deeper that he never voiced nor actually planned to voice at all.

since your arrangement had been clear from the start;

friends with benefits, point blank, in fact, it helped the both of you let go of much needed steam every now and then— it's perfect, truly, if feelings aren't involved that is.

yet here it began, because every time you were together there was an unspoken tension on his part, a feeling he couldn't quite place.

he strokes over your waist now, his touch lingering way longer than necessary as he slowly lined himself up with your heat, "you feel a little tense," he whispers, voice soft, heart beating.

as he inserts his tip, his fingers trail down your bare back, sending a multitude of shivers across your skin as you immediately lean back into his touch, craving the comfort and the thrill— the somewhat exciting thought of being intimate with a man like aventurine himself yet keeping it hidden from outsiders, even from your own emotions.

as his hands roamed over your body, exploring familiar territory, you felt the practiced ease of your routine and just how well he knew you by now— not only that, but your body.

ugh, when he preaches his cock through you for the very first time this time you moan out instantly, it makes him groan too, you know, even louder when you gets breathless from the pressure building in your stomach.

far away from your sight, there was always an underlying tenderness in his actions, a carefulness that contradicted the casual nature of your relationship, "e-enjoying yourself?" he drawls, his voice low.

if he could only tell you just how beautiful you are without making it sound weird.

you grind back as he squeezed your ass, hard, against his palm— that's more like it, that's how you like it and how your special friendship should be like, aventurine knows, he needs to know.

you grind against his pelvis, circling your hips, fucking back into him without pattern and turning into an embarrassing mess of moans and whimpers.

you whine, trying to escape the hot curl and fluttering in your chest, "always with you, you know t-that."

and yeah, that's something he loves to hear— next to pressing and thrusting into your cunt until he feels your slick slither down his shaft and oh? having his fingers on your clit too? making you feel so good.

aventurine cannot stop himself anymore, with hunger he rolls and rubs his fingers harder against your clit, faster, ignoring the twinge in his wrist as you began to mercilessly shake against his chest, circling your hips and squeezing him with your hole.

it's so filthy, having his spit coat and mark you up while his thick cock snapped you open in each and every thrust of his— and you always knew it'll hurt a little whenever he twitches within your walls, he must hurt with a size like that, in fact, just looking at him and you'd immediately know he's packed down there.

in spite of fact something behind your sight happens— because you see, his gaze softens for a moment, and there it was, a flicker of something he always tries to hide— a deep, unspoken affection that fuck, damn it, he was in love, aventurine fucking loved you.

he began to kiss your neck more furiously, kiss, suck and bite it— then go slower again, messily lap and add enough saliva on your skin so it'd glow even through the shadowed bedroom as to savor this very moment.

sheer unawareness covers the deepest truths— while love, lust and passion, all formed to dust in order to keep your friendship going for as long as he was able to would not resort in any problems.

no trouble, correct? if only you knew how it has been killing him inside.

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[mrsfancyferrari]

Teach Me

Summary: MV1 + “I never had any special tradition for the holidays while growing up,"

Song: It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas by Michael Bublé

Author’s note: Sorry it took so long to release a Christmas fics. Exam mocks are really kicking my ass right now! Please like, reblog and share this! 🫶

Word count: 10.8k

Christmas had always been a grand affair in your family, an extravaganza of twinkling lights, laughter, and the warm, cinnamon embrace of freshly baked cookies.

From the moment you could remember, your mother would orchestrate a symphony of holiday cheer—everyone involved, from the youngest child to the oldest grandparent, had a part to play.

The joyous chaos of your family’s Christmas Eve traditions was something you cherished, an unshakable foundation of love that enveloped you every year.

But as you sat on the couch, a steaming cup of peppermint hot chocolate cradled in your hands, you watched Max, your best friend, from across the room, use his computer to read his email.

He was staying over at yours for the week since he thought it would be better to stay with someone over the holidays than stay by himself with his cats in Monaco.

His brow was furrowed, tongue poking out slightly as he concentrated; a sight that made you smile. But then he said something that spun your world off its axis.

“I don’t really do much for Christmas,” he remarked, his voice disconnected, as if he were commenting on the weather rather than divulging a piece of his soul.

You looked up, your heart tightening in disbelief. “What do you mean, you don’t do much?” Your voice came out sharper than intended, the surprise and concern mixing into a jumble of emotions that suddenly felt too big for your small living room. “Like… at all?”

Max shrugged, a hint of embarrassment tracing the lines of his face. “I don’t know. My family doesn’t celebrate like that. We might exchange a few gifts, but it’s not a big deal, you know? Just a regular day for us.”

A regular day. The words clanged against your heart like a fallen ornament, shattering the idyllic image you had created of sharing the holidays together.

How could someone not revel in the joy of Christmas?

The traditions, the twinkle of lights, the warmth of family—these were the things that made the season magical.

“Oh,” you whispered, suddenly feeling a chasm form between you. You took a sip of your hot chocolate, not sure how to navigate this unfamiliar terrain.

Your childhood memories flooded your mind—caroling with your neighbors, the ritual of finding the perfect Christmas tree, and the way your father would always bungle his lines while reading ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas.

Max must have felt the shift in the air; he looked up, catching the troubled expression on your face. “Is it weird that I don’t celebrate?” He gave you a small, tentative smile, as if he were trying to gauge your reaction.

Your heart thudded, and the truth hung dangerously on the tip of your tongue. Could you accept this about him? “Um, no… it’s just… It’s really important to me.”

You weren’t sure how to articulate the depth of your feelings, the nostalgia that struck you like a cold wind at the thought of a muted Christmas devoid of celebration.

“I didn’t mean to—”

“No, Max, I’m sorry,” you interjected. “It’s not your fault. I guess I just expected… well, more.”

Turning away to hide your emotions, you felt a tightening in your chest. You wondered if it was possible to bridge the gap between two worlds so different.

To you, Christmas was warm hugs and laughter, while to him, it was merely an ordinary day.

As you both continued to watch the show on the TV in silence, a plan began to form in your mind.

What if you could share your Christmas with him? What if you could envelop him in the warmth of your family’s traditions, guide him through the whirlwind of what the holiday truly meant to you?

That night, you stayed up late, tossing and turning, rehearsing the idea in your mind like an actor preparing for a role.

The next day, you broached the topic over breakfast.

“Max,” you started, tentative but hopeful, “what if you joined my family this Christmas? We have so many traditions, and it would be amazing to share them with you.”

You watched closely as he took a bite of his toast, the surprise etched on his face like the designs on your family’s old holiday plates.

“Are you sure?” he asked, eyebrows raised. “I don’t want to crash your family’s holiday. It sounds like it means a lot to you.”

“It does,” you replied, leaning forward, excitement building. “But I want to share it with you. I want you to experience Christmas through my eyes.”

After a moment, his expression softened, and a smile appeared. “Okay, if you really want me there, I’d love to join,” he said, his initial hesitancy fading away beneath the glow of your enthusiasm.

As the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting a rosy glow across the sky, your phone buzzed with a call from your parents. You picked it up, expecting a routine check-in, but it was a little different this time.

“Hey, honey!” your mom chirped on the other end. “We were hoping you could come over and help us decorate the Christmas tree.”

“Sure! But is everything okay?” you asked, noting a tinge of urgency in her voice.

“It’s your dad,” she said, lowering her voice. “His back has been acting up again, and he insists he can’t be on his feet too long. I’d hate to do it all by myself.”

You chuckled, picturing your dad stubbornly trying to avoid any heavy lifting, even if it meant sitting on the couch, grumbling about the decorations.

“Alright, I’ll be there soon. Do you mind if I bring Max along? He’s been staying with me for the holidays, and quite frankly, he’s getting a bit bored.”

“Of course! The more, the merrier! I’m sure he’ll love it!” she replied, her voice brightening. “See you in a bit!”

The pungent aroma of gingerbread wafted through the air as you stirred a pot of simmering cocoa on the stove. Christmas music played softly in the background, intermingling with the sounds of Max fumbling around in the kitchen.

“Max! Do you want to go help decorate my parents’ tree?” you called out, trying to be heard over the clinking of dishes and the low hum of the music.

He appeared at the kitchen doorway, a puzzled expression on his face. “Are you sure I won’t ruin it for you? I hardly know anything about Christmas,” he replied, wringing his hands, suddenly self-conscious.

“Max, relax! It’s about having fun, not just making it look perfect,” you assured him, a grin spreading across your face. “Besides, my dad’s back is acting up, and they could use an extra pair of hands. It’ll be good for us both to get out of the house and do something festive.”

He seemed to mull it over, a slight furrow forming on his brow. “Alright then, let’s go,” he said with a sigh, walking back to finish putting the remaining cookies on sheets for baking.

Once you two arrived at your parents' cozy two-story house, the inviting glow of warm lights twinkled through the windows, making it feel even more like a holiday wonderland.

The scent of pine filled the air as you stepped inside. Your mom greeted you with a wide smile and a warm embrace.

“Thank you for coming, you two! I’m so glad you could help,” she said before turning to her husband, who was gingerly stretching his back on the sofa.

You pulled back slightly to face her, noticing her festive sweater with reindeer prancing across the front. “Of course! We wouldn’t miss it for the world,” you replied, a smile creeping onto your face.

As you glanced toward your dad, you caught him gingerly stretching his back on the sofa. He grunted softly, rubbing at a spot just above his hips. “I’m fine! Just did a little too much holiday decorating, that’s all,” he said, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Hello, Y/N's mom and dad," Max said shyly, standing a bit awkwardly with his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He had only seen your parents twice before, and each time was a whirlwind of excitement and nerves for him.

“Max! It’s so wonderful to see you again,” your mom chirped, immediately stepping over to him, arms open. He hesitated for just a moment, but then accepted her hug, easing slightly as she welcomed him with warmth.

“What happened, Dad? Did you lift something heavy?” you asked as Max and you set your jackets down on the coat rack.

“Just a little heavy lifting here and there,” your dad said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “You know, moving boxes up to the attic and making sure the Christmas lights are all working. I might have overdone it, though.”

“Remember last year?” you teased. “When you insisted you could get that giant inflatable snowman by yourself?”

“Hey! That snowman was a real battle. But look how magnificent he was once I got him set up!” he countered, puffing his chest out with pride.

You chuckled, knowing that the holiday spirit always brought out the competitive side of your father. “This year, let’s take it easy.” you suggested.

“Me and Max will put on the rest of the tree decorations, so you two go and rest,” you playfully ordered, a grin spreading across your face.

You gestured towards the mound of glittering ornaments and fairy lights that lay waiting to be hung, an assortment of memories collected over the years.

Your mom chuckled softly as she helped your dad, who was trying to rise from the couch. “Thanks, you two,” she said, glancing back at the tree adorned with half-placed baubles.

She spared a loving look at your dad, her eyes shimmering with tenderness, before leading him to their bedroom. “We’ll just take a quick nap, and then we’ll join you for hot cocoa.”

“I’ll hold you to that!” you called after her, the aroma of chocolate baking wafting through your kitchen.

Just as the door clicked shut behind you, Max stepped into view, his hands stuffed deep in the pockets of his green hoodie.

“Alright, Max,” you said, taking a step back to admire the bare pine tree. “What do you think? Are you ready to decorate?”

Max looked up at the tree, its branches heavy with potential. “It’s, um, a lot taller than I expected,” he said, scratching his head. His light brown hair flopped over his forehead as he shifted on his feet. “How do you even start?”

You chuckled, feeling a sense of amusement and excitement bubbling up inside of you. “Well, for me, it starts with the lights. You can’t have a Christmas tree without lights!”

“Lights? Like, the kind that twinkle?” His wide-eyed expression radiated a mixture of intrigue and skepticism.

“Exactly! And they’re the best part.” You walked over to the box where the twinkling fairy lights lay coiled. “Here, hold this end,” you said, handing him one end of the string of lights. “Watch closely, and you might just learn a thing or two.”

Together, you two draped the lights around the branches, winding them carefully to imitate a gentle cascade. Despite his initial uncertainty, Max followed your lead, and you were surprised at how quickly he picked up the rhythm.

As you worked, you thought about how different this was for him. “So, Max, what do you usually do at this time of year?”

He paused, biting his lip as if recalling a distant memory. “Um, not much, really. My family just… doesn’t celebrate anything during the winter. My parents went away on a business trip last Christmas, and it was just me and my video games.”

You frowned. “That sounds kind of lonely.”

“Yeah, it was,” he admitted with a small shrug. “I’ve always wondered what it’d be like to do something festive, though. Like… this.”

He gestured at the lights you were hanging, and a little smile broke through. “It’s different. Good different.”

“Good!” you smiled back, feeling your heart warm. “I love that you’re getting to experience it with me.”

You finished hanging the lights, and you stepped back to admire your work. “Alright, next we get to hang the ornaments! These are my favorite part.”

You pulled out the box filled with ornaments, some homemade, some collected over the years. Each ornament held its own story.

“Whoa, look at this one,” Max said, holding up a glass snowman that sparkled as he tilted it in the light. “What’s the story behind it?”

With a nostalgic sigh, you took a seat on the floor surrounded by ornaments. “Oh, that one! My grandmother made it when I was little. She used to tell me that if we hang it on the tree, it would keep us safe from snowstorms.”

Max looked at you, his brows furrowed. “Safe from snowstorms? Does it… work?”

You laughed, feeling the warmth of memory wash over you. “To be honest, I’m not sure, but it makes me feel good to have it there. It reminds me of her, and Christmas is about holding onto those memories, right?”

Max nodded thoughtfully, placing the ornament on a branch. “I think I understand. It’s more than just decorations; it’s about the people and the moments.”

“Yes! You’re getting it!” you cheered, feeling the joy of sharing this tradition take root in your hearts. As you continued to hang the ornaments, you noticed how Max’s fingers brushed over each one, examining them as if they were precious relics.

“What’s this one?” he asked, lifting a shiny red ball with a silver ribbon tied around it.

“That’s one I made in art class when I was in fifth grade. I was so proud of it! Can you imagine?” you grinned, remembering the day you came home with it in hand.

“It looks nice,” Max said, his admiration genuine. “You were pretty crafty back then,”

“Still am!” you shot back, playfully nudging him with your elbow. “Just wait until you see the tree when it’s all done.”

As you continued to hang each ornament, you began to chat more about your families, your interests, and the things you two loved. With each conversation, the air filled with laughter and anticipation.

“Are we really putting up the angel this year?” he asked, glancing over at you with a teasing smirk.

“Of course! It’s tradition,” you insisted, a firm look on your face. After all, it was important to maintain the little things that connected your world, your friendship. “You know we can’t let it down.”

Max chuckled, and the sound was like a breath of fresh air. “All right then, but I’m the one who usually puts it on top. It’s kind of my thing.”

You shook your head, a smile creeping onto your lips. “Not this year. I’m doing it. You can help me, but I’m the one putting it on top.”

“Okay, Miss Determination,” he replied, his tone mildly sarcastic, but he stepped aside as you grabbed a wooden stool from the corner of the room.

Your heart raced slightly—not just from the excitement but from a deeper, indescribable atmosphere crackling between you two.

You steadied the stool, glancing back at Max, who was still watching, arms crossed, his expression playful yet somehow, deeply attentive. His gaze held a weight that made your stomach flip, and you could swear there was a beat where the air thickened around you.

You climbed onto the stool, your heart thrumming in your chest like a tiny drum, as you reached for the starry-eyed angel that gleamed at the top of the Christmas tree.

It felt higher than you remembered, and a sense of confidence mingled with a rush of fear surged within you—like standing on the edge of an uncertain cliff.

“Easy there!” Max cautioned, his voice a mixture of concern and amusement. “Maybe I should be doing this.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress the tiny thrill that his closeness brought—only a foot separating you now, his breath mingling in the air as he leaned closer.

“Don’t you dare come over here. I’ve got this,” you insisted, waving him off with a playful faux annoyance.

But before you could even register what happened next, the stool wobbled. Your heart jumped as you lost your balance, and instinct kicked in.

You flailed, arms going wide, but before you could topple down completely, a strong hand shot out, grabbing you and pulling you back against him.

“Whoa! I got you!” Max said, surprise mingled with exhilaration in his voice.

You found yourself hanging in the air for a moment, all thoughts of the angel forgotten as Max held you firmly, your feet dangling inches above the ground.

Your heart raced not just from the fall but from the electric intimacy of the moment, your bodies pressed together, the warmth of his body wrapping around you like a blanket.

“Maybe I should have done this part,” he murmured, his face inches from yours.

His gaze held yours, a mixture of playfulness and something deeper, something you both had danced around for so long, unspoken and heavy in the air.

“Okay, okay,” you breathed, a slight embarrassment creeping into you. “Just let me get back up. I can do it.”

Yet, as his arms remained around your waist, you felt an intense flutter in your chest, the world around you fading into a gentle hush.

Everything seemed to slow—a heartbeat, a moment of depth, the shared breath between friends that felt like it could be something more.

“Are you sure?” he asked, brows knitting slightly as he studied your expression, his grip firm yet gentle.

“Just a little higher,” you whispered, and he complied, lifting you just a bit higher up, careful and steady. For a moment, you felt balanced, your body suspended, held securely by him.

With a slight adjustment, you reached for the angel perched above, heart racing.

When you finally grasped the angel in your hands, you could hardly contain your joy. “I got it! Look!” you exclaimed, beaming down at him.

Your smile matched the twinkling lights strung across the room, the room alive with holiday spirit.

“You did it!” He grinned, his eyes sparkling as he gazed up at you. “But let’s see if you can put it on the tree without falling again.”

You took a breath, carefully repositioning to reach the top of the tree without losing your balance, and to your surprise, you did it. You placed the angel right on top, the final touch to an enchanting creation.

As you settled back on the stool, Max’s hands lingered a moment longer on your waist, his eyes locked onto yours in a way that stirred something deep inside you.

“You really are something else,” he said softly, admiration flooding his tone.

You met his gaze, a million words left unspoken, a shared understanding hanging in the air between you. In that moment, amidst the tree, the decorations, and the warmth of the season, you both realized that everything could change—if only you'd take the step to speak what lingered in the silent spaces.

“Max, I—”

His breath hitched, anticipation crackling like the electricity between you.

“You really are something else,” he said softly, admiration flooding his tone.

You met his gaze, a million words left unspoken, a shared understanding hanging in the air between you.

In that moment, amidst the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree, the festive decorations draped lazily across the walls, and the warmth of the season, you both realized that everything could change—if only you’d take the step to speak what lingered in the silent spaces.

“Okay guys, are you almost done? We need to get this Christmas party started!” your mom’s voice rang into the room, cutting through the moment like a loud alarm.

You both jumped, the spell shattered in an instant.

“Yeah, um, right!” you stammered, pulling back slightly from his touch and forcing a smile.

The twinkling lights that had felt so inviting moments earlier now seemed to cast shadows, distorting the possibilities just spoken.

Max raked a hand through his tousled hair, irritation flickering in his eyes. “It’s fine,” he murmured, but it felt anything but fine.

The silence between you swelled with tension, unspoken words echoing in the air.

“Do you think we have enough decorations up? Or should we add more garlands?” you asked, attempting to redirect your racing thoughts.

It was a weak attempt, a desperate grasp for normalcy. But you could feel the distance widening, the moment fading like the last glow of an ember.

Max turned to help you adjust another string of lights, his fingers brushing yours as you worked side by side. “I think it looks great,” he said, though his tone lacked its usual enthusiasm.

His eyes darted around the room instead of settling on you.

“Thanks,” you replied softly, your heart heavy with the words that had been interrupted.

“What’s taking so long?” Your mom poked her head through the doorway, hands on her hips. “You two better hurry up or your father is going to eat all the cookies. And trust me, you know how fast he eats when his back hurts.”

You both chuckled uncomfortably. “We’re almost done!” you called out, exchanging a glance laden with mixed emotions.

As you both trudged into the kitchen, the comforting yet chaotic scent of melted chocolate, vanilla, and a hint of cinnamon greeted you.

Your father sat at the counter, a plate of cookies in one hand and a glass of milk in the other. Crumbs dusted his sweater, remnants of his early encounter with the treats.

“Save some for us, Dad!” you exclaimed, snatching a cookie just out of reach.

You made a mock of your father’s crunching sound like a movie monster, mimicking the terrifying yet silly creatures from the last film you hadn’t quite finished watching.

“‘Save some’ was my plan until your mother left,” he chuckled, taking another bite. Somehow, amidst the crumbs and laughter, he looked both amused and guilty. “Didn’t realize how fast they’d vanish. These cookies? They’re a blessing.”

You rolled your eyes. “I can’t believe you,” you teased, trying to lighten the previously heavy mood, but the weight clung to the air like an unwanted guest. You grabbed a cookie as well, feeling the soft warmth radiating from it.

“Are they good?” Max asked, eyeing the colorful array of cookies, his curiosity mingled with hunger. He reached for one, nosily nibbling on the edge of the plate.

“Epic,” your dad said with a nod, his mouth full. “Even if I say so myself.” He looked down, catching crumbs on his lap.

“Good enough to distract you from your back pain?” you pressed gently, trying to lighten the mood, even if just a little.

Your dad’s laughter faltered for a moment, replaced by a visible glimmer of sorrow, a fleeting reminder of years that brought more than just joyful memories.

“Ah, well, that along with every other distraction I can find,” he replied, his voice tinged with a sadness you could hear but not see, as if every word was a careful piece painted in gray shades.

Just as the silence began to stretch uncomfortably, your mother entered the kitchen, a warm smile brightening her face, although tired lines around her eyes told a different story.

“Everyone’s been out of sorts today. Should we all sit down together?” she suggested, motioning gently toward the living room.

“Sounds good,” you said, stepping back from the cookie plate. “Just let me snag a few more first.” You plucked three more cookies and stuffed them into your pockets, ensuring you were ready for later consumption.

Max smirked at your cookie-stashing antics. “You really think you will need that many for a five-minute stroll to the living room?”

“Hey,” you replied, holding a cookie aloft like a trophy, “you never know when the cookie monster strikes!”

Your dad chuckled again, and the tension broke slightly. “Well, if it gets too frightening, I suppose I can lend you my sweater for protection.” He gestured grandly to the crumbs adorning it.

“However, I warn you, the last person who tried to wear it claimed to have lost a battle with sugar and chocolate.”

You giggled, imagining someone in an epic showdown against a plate of cookies while wearing that sweater. “I’ll take my chances!” you said, confidently slinging a couple of cookies into your pockets before you finally sashayed toward the living room.

As you entered, the glittering Christmas tree sparkled in the dim light, each ornament reflecting both the colorful bulbs and the excitement that filled the air.

The sounds of bells jingled softly, punctuated by the occasional laughter from your mom as she rearranged a hodgepodge of decorations.

You plopped down on the couch, managing to get crumbs on the cushion as you settled in. Max followed, a teasing look still plastered on his face.

“So, what’s the plan now? A cookie feasting or a Christmas carol performance?”

“Why not both?” Max suggested, taking a bite of one of the prized cookies. The sweet explosion of chocolate instantly heightened your holiday spirit. “We could start a new Christmas tradition!”

“Yeah! Cookie caroling!” you exclaimed.

Just then, your mom turned to you with a thoughtful expression. “So, we were thinking maybe you wanted to stay over for Christmas?”

She moved a few ornaments on the tree, her hands deftly arranging them with the care of someone who wanted everything just perfect.

You glanced at Max, who had already raised his eyebrows in surprise. Staying over for Christmas would mean a whole day of festivities, treats, and memories.

But it also meant leaving Max behind if he couldn’t join. A pang of longing shot through you at the thought of him being alone.

“Can Max stay too?” you surprised yourself by asking, your voice light but earnest.

“Of course he can!” your dad chimed in, giving Max a reassuring smile. “We always have room for friends, especially at Christmas.”

Max’s face lit up, a mix of relief and joy spreading across his features. “Really? Thank you for letting me stay,” He leaned back into the couch with a grin, looking thoroughly pleased with himself.

Your mom smiled warmly, returning to straighten the tree decorations. “I’ll make sure to set up a cozy spot for you, Max. We’ll even have a hot chocolate station!”

“Whoa, a hot chocolate station?” Max echoed, his eyes widening. “My festive drink dreams are coming true!”

Laughing, you leaned towards him. “Just prepare for my intense marshmallow-to-chocolate ratio. I'm known for going overboard.”

Max chuckled. “I’ll risk it for a cup with you!”

“I just might put extra whipped cream on yours,” you teased.

“Bring it on,” he shot back confidently, but there was a spark of determination in his eyes that made you look forward to a friendly competition. . . .

You were nestled in the guest room at your parents' house, a cozy haven with a view of the holiday lights twinkling just outside the window.

Christmas Eve had always been a special time filled with warmth and nostalgia, but this year, all you could focus on was Max, who was sprawled out on the couch in the living room.

You had invited him over for the festivities, and while it felt good to have him around, a worry gnawed at you—was he cold out there?

As you snuggled beneath the blankets, the fluorescent glow of string lights outside painted the walls in a soft, warm hue.

‘He’ll be fine,’ you reassured yourself. ‘It’s just one night.’ Yet the thought of him alone, wrapped in a blanket that could barely keep him comfortable, stirred restlessness within you.

You wanted to go out and offer him a cozy spot next to you, but you didn’t want to disturb him, especially if he managed to finally drift off.

After an hour of tossing and turning amidst visions of reindeer and jingling bells, you heard a soft knock at the door.

Your heart raced, mingling excitement with a touch of anxiety. Slowly, you swung the door open and there he was, Max, standing there with his fluffy pillow tucked under one arm.

The sight of him was undeniably endearing, and you fought the urge to smile like a fool.

“Hey, what’s up?” you asked, trying to keep your voice even. You stepped aside to let him in, noticing how the warm glow of the room contrasted with the chilly air he had brought in with him.

“I… just couldn’t fall asleep,” he admitted, looking down at his feet. “I didn’t know if you’d be awake, so I thought I’d check.”

“Oh, well, I’m definitely still awake,” you said, the playful tilt of your lips escaping before you could stop it. “I was trying to catch Santa.”

“Really?” Max’s eyes widened, filled with mock disbelief. “You think Santa’s actually going to show up here?”

“Well, it’s Christmas Eve! Why wouldn’t he?” You plopped down on the edge of your bed, inviting him to sit. “Just because we’re older doesn’t mean we can’t believe. It’s part of the fun!”

Max chuckled, settling onto the floor cross-legged, his pillow still clutched to his chest. “Okay, okay, I get it. But still, how do you plan to catch him? With a camera or something?”

“Maybe,” you said, half-seriously. “I might have some tricks up my sleeve. What about you? What did you think—would you prefer to catch Santa or find out if reindeer actually fly?”

He pondered that for a moment, his brows furrowing in concentration. “Hmmm, that’s a tough choice. I think I’d prefer to see the reindeer fly, actually. I mean, how do they even do it? I’d love to see those little hooves take off!”

“You know, if you stand up and pretend to be one, maybe that’s the secret,” you teased, your heart lifting at the sound of laughter that poured from him. It felt good, this mini-adventure in imagination.

Max shook his head, his smile infectious. “Absolutely not! I’ll leave the magical reindeer business to you, thank you very much.”

“Fair enough,” you said, grinning back at him. The air was lighter now, filled with a playful spirit that made the room feel even cozier. “But I’ve got to ask—are you cold out there on the couch?”

Max’s smile faltered for just a moment. “A little. I wasn’t thinking about that when I decided to crash on the couch, I swear! Just didn’t want to kick you out of your own room.”

“That’s sweet of you, but you can just come here next time if you want,” you offered, feeling a warmth spreading inside you. “There’s plenty of room.”

He glanced at your bed, then back to you. “Are you sure? I don’t want to be a bother.”

Taking in his slightly sheepish expression, you sat up straighter. “You’re not! We can keep each other company while we wait for Santa… or at least talk about whatever silly thing pops into our heads.”

Max’s eyes glimmered with delight. “You know what? That sounds perfect.” He picked up his pillow and moved it to your bed, settling down beside you. “Okay, so how do we catch Santa then?”

“First, we need snacks! Santa loves cookies. We can’t let him go hungry,” you declared, leaping up and heading for the kitchen.

When you returned, you carried a plate stacked high with the best cookies your mom had made—snowflakes, gingerbread men, and festive sprinkle biscuits.

“Wow, you’re serious about this,” Max teased, grabbing a cookie. “Okay, then let’s make a plan. If we take shifts—”

“Shifts?” you interrupted with a gasp, the laughter bubbling over. “We’re not soldiers guarding the North Pole, Max!”

He couldn’t hold back his own laughter. “Okay, fine. No shifts. But how about we set up where we can see the tree and the cookies, and then when someone looks away, the other has to keep a lookout?”

“Deal. And when we catch Santa, you have to promise not to scream,” you added, snickering.

“Like I’d do that,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Okay, I’m going to be the lookout then.”

Minutes turned into hours as the night unfolded beneath the glow of your soft fairy lights, laughter blending with stories and silly reindeer poses.

For the first time that night, the ticking down to Christmas felt less like a wait and more like a cherished moment shared.

You positioned yourself comfortably, but couldn’t help sneaking glances at him. One moment, he caught your gaze, and an unusual silence settled between you. The playful banter slipped away and instead, the warmth in his eyes drew you in.

He leaned a little closer, his voice softening. “You okay?”

“I am,” you said, but your heart raced more from the shift in ambiance than the excitement of catching Santa. The air was somehow charged with a tension that felt both thrilling and terrifying.

Max's gaze lingered on you, and for just a heartbeat, you both held still. You couldn’t ignore the heat rising in your cheeks. Your eyes flickered down to his lips, and you felt a magnetic pull towards him.

For a moment, you thought he might lean in. Then, as if struck by an invisible force, you turned away. “I—sorry, I just…” You stammered, struggling to find your words.

But Max’s eyes, filled with curiosity and a hint of longing, didn’t let you off the hook so easily. “What is it?” he asked gently, his voice low and soothing.

“Nothing!” you rushed out, a laugh escaping that sounded a bit too high-pitched. “I think maybe I just stared at the lights too long.”

“Sure,” he replied, but the playful tone was gone, replaced by something softer, more sincere. “You can tell me, you know. I won’t bite.”

You took a deep breath, trying to steady the rapid beating of your heart. “It’s just… really nice, being here with you. I mean, it’s Christmas Eve and we’re supposed to be having fun, but… it feels different this time.”

His expression softened even further, as though he understood completely. “Yeah, I feel it too.”

With a small smile, he shifted closer, letting the comfort of the moment wash over you. “Maybe it’s the cookies or the tree. Or maybe it’s because we’re just getting older.”

Under the thick blanket, you shifted again, settling into the warmth he radiated. “Now come closer; you’re taking all of the blanket,” you teased, nudging him lightly with your shoulder.

Max slowly moved to close the gap, his body edging over but hesitating just a tad as if he feared touching you too much would shatter the serene moment.

“I’m scared,” he blurted, glancing sideways, his cheeks tinged a light shade of pink.

“Scared?” you repeated, surprised. “Of what?”

“Of ruining this, I guess,” he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. “Everything feels so perfect, and I don’t want to mess it up by making a wrong move.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Like what?”

“Making you uncomfortable,” he said. He drummed his fingers nervously on the blanket. “What if I lean too far, or what if I say something silly and it turns this into one of those moments where you laugh uncomfortably because you’re not sure how to react?”

“I wouldn’t laugh at you,” you replied earnestly, shifting so you could look at him properly. “And even if you said something silly, we’d just laugh it off, right?”

He looked at you with soft brown eyes, gauging the sincerity in your expression. “You promise?”

“Absolutely,” you said, feeling a warmth bloom in your chest. “Why would I want to ruin this either? I like where we are, Max. It feels… right.”

“I just…” he paused, the weight of his thoughts hanging in the air, “I like being around you. You make everything lighter. But I don’t want to push you away.”

You leaned closer, feeling the thud of your heart echo in the space between you. The bottle of uncertainty that had been keeping both of you at bay began to crack. “It’s okay; you’re not pushing me away. I want you here.”

The tilt of your head must have been inviting enough, because he shifted in closer, the gap between you dissolving like morning mist. He was tentative, still afraid of breaking the moment, but the warmth you felt was from more than just the blanket.

“See?” you said softly as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “Not so scary, right?”

“I guess not,” he chuckled, relief flooding his features. “But I just can’t help it; I keep thinking about how everything could change. What if it goes wrong?”

“Max,” you said, resting your head against his shoulder, inhaling the familiar scent of his cologne, “worrying about what might happen keeps you from enjoying what’s happening now. Isn’t that what people do? They get so lost in what’s next that they forget to appreciate what they have?”

His silence was contemplative as he pulled you a fraction closer, the warmth of him wrapping around you like the blanket. “You’re right. I guess I just really want this to last… us.”

Your heart fluttered at his words. The vulnerability in his tone was striking, and it planted a seed of hope within you. “So, let’s just be in this moment,” you suggested, draping the blanket more tightly around your bodies.

“Here and now. No expectations. Just us.”

He nodded slowly, and for a moment, the sound of snow became the soundtrack of your cocoon. Slowly, his fingers brushed against yours, a gentleness that sent a ripple of warmth through you.

A smile broke across his face, one that sent warmth through you like the first rays of sun after a long, cold night. “Sounds perfect,” he said, his voice deepening in that way you had come to adore.

You settled back against him, draping the soft blanket more tightly around your bodies. The fabric felt like a cloud, cocooning you in a protective bubble.

Outside, the snow continued its gentle descent, each drop creating a soft symphony that seemed to echo the beats of your hearts.

He fell silent for a moment, and you watched as he closed his eyes, letting the rhythm of the snow wash over him. “I wonder how many people wish for this,” he mused, his voice barely more than a whisper.

“I think a lot,” you replied softly, feeling the weight of his words linger in the air. “But it’s ours. We shouldn’t take it for granted.”

The two of you settled into a comfortable silence, as peaceful and inviting as the sound of the snow against the window. You felt yourself beginning to relax, lulled by the warmth of him, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat echoing against your cheek where it rested.

Your eyes fluttered closed, and you let out a long, slow breath, feeling the world around you begin to fade away.

“Stay with me,” he murmured, sensing your drift towards slumber.

“Always,” you replied, feeling your eyelids grow heavier. In the sanctuary you had created, enveloped in warmth and affection, you allowed the quiet to take over as your thoughts turned hazy.

And with that, you drifted into a peaceful sleep, the comfort of his presence, the shelter of the blanket, and the soft patter of the snow wrapping you both in a cocoon of tranquility.

Here, in this moment, everything was right, and your hearts whispered promises that could span across a lifetime. . . . .

You woke up to the gentle thrum of a heartbeat against your ear, warmth enveloping you fully. The sound brought you back slowly to the present, and you smiled as you remembered where you were.

The faint smell of pine and cinnamon wafted through the air, intermingling with the warmth of the blankets draped over you.

You were home, nestled in bed beside him, accompanied by the soft glow of fairy lights strung around the room.

Turning slightly, you found him still beside you, his arms wrapped around you in a secure embrace. His chest rose and fell rhythmically beneath your head, and his breath sounded deep and peaceful.

You cherished this moment like the most precious gift, knowing that today was Christmas Day.

You smiled at the thought and snuggled a little closer, feeling the sleep still clinging to your eyelids. "Merry Christmas," you whispered, not wanting to disturb the beautiful serenity of the morning.

He stirred a little, pulling you even closer. "Mmm, Merry Christmas," he murmured, his voice husky from sleep.

He tilted his head to meet your gaze, his eyes sparkling with mirth. “What time do you think it is? Do you think your parents are up yet?”

You chuckled softly, nudging him playfully. “Probably not. They’d sleep in on Christmas morning if they could."

Max’s smile widened. “Well let’s not disturb them then and do our own breakfast,” he suggested with a conspiratorial glance. “And maybe make some breakfast for them so they like me more.”

“Max, they love you, you know that,” you said, feeling your cheeks heat slightly.

Calling Max your friend felt wrong, like a poorly matched puzzle piece that didn’t quite fit. In your heart, he was so much more, but the boundaries were intricate and tangled, built over years of friendship, laughter, and unspoken affection.

“My parents don’t usually agree to let a friend stay over at Christmas. You’re special.”

He tilted his head, his playful demeanor shifting to something more serious. “Really? That’s sweet of them. But honestly, I want to make a good impression. Christmas breakfast is a big deal, right? In a ‘you have to impress your parents’ kind of way?” He rolled his eyes in mock exaggeration.

You laughed, pushing your hair back from your face. “Okay, fine. What do you have in mind?”

Max hopped up from the edge of your bed, a spark of enthusiasm in his steps. “I can handle the pancakes if you get the eggs and bacon. And maybe we can sneak in some hot chocolate?”

“Sounds like a plan,” you agreed, reluctantly swinging your legs over the side of the bed. “But we have to be quiet. They’re definitely still asleep.”

“Shh, we have to be silent,” he declared dramatically, mimicking a ninja as he tiptoed toward the kitchen.

You followed him, amusement bubbling up inside you at his antics. Entering the kitchen, you were greeted by the familiar scent of pine from the Christmas tree, twinkling lights reflecting off the walls.

Max opened the fridge with exaggerated care, peering inside as if it were a treasure chest.

“Eggs and whatever this is,” he said, pulling out a carton that looked slightly dubious, but then again, you didn't remember buying much food lately.

You rolled your eyes. “That was from Thanksgiving. Let’s stick to the basics.”

Max pretended to ponder for a moment. “And let’s not poison your parents on Christmas morning.”

With a soft laugh, you got to work, gathering the ingredients for the breakfast spread. The soft sound of sizzling bacon filled the kitchen as you heated the skillet, and Max enthusiastically began mixing pancake batter in a bowl.

After some time, your kitchen transformed into a makeshift restaurant, with pancakes stacked high, bacon sizzling, and eggs brightening the countertop.

You’d managed to quiet the noise, but you couldn’t hold back your laughter at the two of you trying to balance plates on the way to the table.

“Okay, moment of truth,” Max said, placing plates down at two seats, making sure they were perfectly aligned. “How do we make this secretly magical?”

You raised your eyebrows, then added, “Hot chocolate on the side?”

“Genius!” he proclaimed, quickly pouring hot chocolate into two mugs adorned with marshmallows. “You’re not just a pretty face, you know.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart fluttered at the compliment. “Flattery will get you everywhere, Max,” you replied playfully, unable to hide your smile.

Just as you both sat down to toast the moment, the sound of footsteps echoed from the hallway. You shot Max a frantic look, and he quickly grabbed a pancake, stuffing it in his mouth as if caught in the act.

“Surprise!” your mother exclaimed, walking into the kitchen, her eyes wide with delight. “What’s all this?”

You exchanged guilty glances, but Max, ever the charmer, grinned with a mouth full of pancake. “Just trying to make Christmas breakfast a real deal. Hope you’re hungry!”

“And great pancakes, if I may add,” you chimed in, feeling your heart race. “And bacon! Can’t forget about baked bacon.”

Your dad appeared beside your mother, his scruffy morning hair adding to his amusement. “Wow, you two really outdid yourselves!” He looked between you and Max, clearly impressed.

Feeling the heat rise in your cheeks, you glanced at Max, who was now smirking, clearly enjoying the attention.

“Well, maybe, by making breakfast, they’ll include me in the family from this point onward,” he said, his eyes dancing with mischief.

You chuckled, nudging him again. “You already are family, you know that right?”

Max locked eyes with you, and for a brief moment, the teasing banter faded into something more sincere. “Yeah, I guess,” he said softly, his smile less about jesting and more about truth.

Your parents settled at the table, and soon enough, the jovial atmosphere filled the room as laughter and shared stories surrounded you.

Even amidst the festive spirits, you and Max shared fleeting glances and quiet smiles, both unsure whether to acknowledge what lingered just beneath the surface.

As bacon sizzled and your parents marveled at the pancakes, you felt a warmth in your heart.

"So, as you know, we're hosting the Christmas party this year," she said, her voice bright and cheery despite the busy atmosphere. "It's going to be crowded before it’s 4 PM."

You looked across the table at Max, who was focused on his plate but seemed to be listening intently. "You don’t mind that, right?" you asked him, your heart racing slightly.

It wasn’t just your parents who would be attending; they had invited family friends, neighbors, and even some of your old schoolmates.

Max looked up, a friendly smile breaking across his face. "No, it’s fine! More the merrier," he replied, taking a big bite of pancake as if to emphasize his nonchalance.

After breakfast, your mother handed you and Max a box of decorations that had been stored away for the season. "Here! You two handle the living room. Make it festive!" she called, already disappearing into the next room.

You and Max exchanged glances, and you both laughed at the same time. "Looks like it’s just us," you said, a hint of excitement in your voice.

"Let’s make this place sparkle!" Max exclaimed, grinning as he opened the box to reveal an array of ornaments, garlands, and twinkling fairy lights.

As you began to decorate the room, you found yourself instinctively reaching for a shimmering silver garland. You draped it across the mantelpiece, wishing to give it a touch of elegance.

Meanwhile, Max was busy attempting to untangle a giant string of lights, a comical frown on his face.

"I'm telling you, these lights have a grudge against us," he said, huffing slightly as he pulled on the cords.

You laughed, shaking your head. "Need a hand, or are you determined to battle the lights alone?"

He raised an eyebrow, a playful challenge in his eyes. "I can handle this. Just you wait!"

He managed to get one long string untangled and triumphantly held it up. "See? Success!"

"You are the hero of light untangling!" you declared, clapping your hands dramatically.

As the afternoon wore on, you took a break to change into your dress. You’d chosen a deep green one that flowed elegantly around your knees. Standing in front of the mirror, you adjusted the neckline and twirled once to see the fabric swirl around you.

When you stepped out of your room, you spotted Max walking past with a box filled with more decorations. He froze, his gaze sweeping over you as if trying to gauge your outfit.

"Is it too much?" you asked shyly, suddenly feeling vulnerable under his watchful eye.

"No, it’s fine! You look beautiful, I promise," he assured you, his voice steady and sincere. That made your heart flutter a little.

“Thank you,” you said softly, a smile creeping onto your face.

Max cleared his throat, a slight blush creeping up his cheeks. "I mean it. You always look great."

As the clock approached 4 PM, guests began to arrive. The house filled with laughter and the sounds of holiday greetings. Your parents mingled with guests, ensuring everyone felt at home.

“Wow, look at this place,” Max said, his voice barely audible over the joyous chatter. He stood close beside you, his eyes wide as he took in the familiar surroundings that were brimming with memories.

“Yeah, it’s a little chaotic,” you admitted, your gaze drifting toward the swarm of guests. “But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Today, especially, you were thankful for Max's presence as anxiety began to creep in with each arrival. He didn’t know anyone else here, and his nervous energy mirrored yours, though he was determined to keep you company.

“Maybe we should find somewhere quieter?” he suggested, but just as you were about to agree, a voice rang out from the doorway.

“Hey, Y/N! Haven’t seen you in forever!” It was Blake—standing with a group of his friends, their smug expressions painted in the crackling light of holiday cheer.

Your heart sank. What was he doing here? Memories of the past flooded back—the bullying, the harsh teasing. You instinctively took a step back, bumping into Max, who looked worried.

“Should I get them out?” he whispered, concern creasing his brow.

“No... it’s okay,” you muttered, though your heart raced. There was a part of you that hoped this time would be different. Maybe Blake had changed.

“Blake!” you said, forcing a smile. “How has it been?”

“Good! Real good! Just finished finals, and I think I aced them all.” He leaned against the doorframe, an uninvited confidence radiating from him. “It’s kind of nice to see you. We should catch up sometime.”

His gaze roamed over you like an echo of the past, pulling at invisible threads that bound you to days long gone.

You could feel Max shift beside you. He subtly positioned his body protectively between you and Blake, his hand casually resting on your waist—something that felt both natural and reassuring.

The gesture worked to ground you, despite the tension that crackled in the air.

“Oh, um, thanks!” you replied, your voice shaky but steadying as you felt Max’s warmth. “I’ve been busy with college. Working a lot too. It’s—really challenging.”

Blake chuckled, his friends joining in the laughter. “You always did know how to balance things,” he said with a wink, his tone flirty. “I bet that’s why everyone is still buzzing about you. You’re always the one who had their life together.”

You forced another smile, but inside you felt uncomfortable under the weight of his gaze.

“I wouldn’t say that,” you replied, trying to redirect the conversation. “What about you? Are you still into basketball?”

“Of course! Can’t get enough of it.” He was enjoying the attention of your classmates who were gathered around—nothing but echoes of their bygone camaraderie. “I could show you some moves later if you want. I mean, I’m pretty good.”

“Maybe I’ll just stick to watching,” you said, with a weak laugh. Your gaze flickered to Max, who still remained a quiet presence at your side, his hand never faltering on your waist.

“Come on, it wouldn’t be the same without you,” Blake persisted, moving closer, his friends egging him on. “We can rekindle old times.”

Just then, Max tightened his grip around you as if to shield you from that unwanted history. “I think Y/N has plans,” he stated clearly. “Right?”

Your heart swelled at his assertion. “Yeah! Plans!” you echoed, grateful for his quick thinking. “We were actually just about to grab some food. Isn’t that right, Max?”

“Absolutely,” he nodded, his eyes locking onto yours with an earnestness that sent warmth through you. It was something you’d been craving since that encounter with Blake began to take an unsettling turn.

“Should I join?” Blake smirked, but your laughter came out more forced than you intended.

“No! I mean, we’re kind of... in a rush,” you insisted, pointing toward the dining room where the food was being served. “Right, Max?”

“Right,” he affirmed, his eyes that twinkled with an inner strength. “Let’s go grab some snacks, Y/N.”

With a half-hearted wave to Blake and his friends, you took Max’s hand, the warmth of his palm igniting an unexpected comfort. You navigated through the crowd, the noise fading into a dull roar behind you.

“Thank you,” you exhaled once you stepped into the quieter dining room, where twinkling fairy lights adorned the table and the table was laden with a spread of delicious food.

“I was worried I’d have to drown in that conversation.”

Max chuckled, his relief evident. “I’ve got your back. Always.”

The atmosphere in the dining room was lighter, filled with the cheerful sounds of your family laughing and sharing stories.

Under a garland of fresh greens and bright red ribbons, you felt enveloped by warmth and safety, especially with Max at your side.

“So tell me more traditions that you guys do on Christmas Day,” Max asked curiously, his bright blue eyes sparkling with excitement as he perched on the edge of the couch.

You could see the warmth of the festive spirit in him, a perfect addition to your family gathering.

You smiled, wiping away a few crumbs from your cookie-laden fingers. “Well, for us, we do Secret Santa where we pick someone’s name and get them something secretly before hiding it under the tree. Oh! And we especially do Christmas karaoke!"

You laughed, pointing at your dad and uncle belting out “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” in exaggerated voices. They were utterly off-key, but it only added to the hilarity.

Max chuckled, the sound making your heart flutter. “I would pay to see that!” he exclaimed.

“Then there’s the mistletoe!” you said, gesturing towards the couple by the entrance who were caught under the hanging sprig of green. “If there are two people under it, they have to kiss.”

You opened your mouth to continue, but before the words could form, Max leaned in, his lips brushing softly against yours.

Time stood still. You were caught in that perfect moment until he pulled away, his cheeks turning a shade of pink that nearly matched the holiday décor.

“Uh, what just happened?” you stammered, glancing up only to find a bunch of mistletoe hanging right above you.

Max pointed up with a shy grin. “I figured I’d follow the traditions, you know?”

You couldn’t help the playful smirk that crept onto your lips. “Is that the only reason you kissed me?” You leaned slightly closer, your heart pounding in excitement.

Max's eyes widened as he shook his head. “No, um, not exactly,” he said, his voice a mix of confidence and vulnerability. “I really like you, Y/N.”

A giggle bubbled up from your throat before you could suppress it. “You’re so cute, Max,” you said, your voice light and teasing.

His face turned even redder, and your playful tone hung in the air between you like a promise. “Did I just get friendzoned?” he asked, half-joking but his eyes flickering with uncertainty.

You rolled your eyes with exaggerated dramatic flair. “Nope, I like you too, cutie.” The words flowed out more easily than you had anticipated, but they felt right, resonating with the whirlwind of emotion that had caught you both off guard.

Max's expression shifted, the nervousness giving way to relief and undeniable joy. “Really? You like me?”

“Of course! I mean, we get along so well, and you’re literally the sweetest person I know.”

He smiled wider, the hint of anxiety disappearing from his features, replaced by a twinkling delight. “Wow. Okay, good! So, uh, should we… I don’t know… try that kiss again? Just to really make sure it wasn’t a fluke?”

You laughed, the sound rich and warm like the cocoa in your cup. “Bad idea, Max. What if people see?” But even as you said the words, you felt a spark ignite, compelling you to step closer again.

“Who cares?” he said, his voice bold now. “It’s just mistletoe. And I think it’d be a better story if we kissed again than if we stood here talking about it.” His eyes danced with energy, a hint of mischief.

You couldn’t resist that challenge, not with the way he was looking at you—the spark in his eyes making it impossible to think clearly. “Okay, but if we do,” you said, taking a breath to calm your fluttering heart, “we have to do it right. No awkward pecks.”

“Deal,” he replied, the seriousness of the moment settling between you like a secret shared.

Max grabbed you by your waist and pulled you closer, his sudden boldness catching you off guard.

Surprised, a little noise escaped your lips — a mix of laughter and shock — and you could see the amusement dance across his face. “See? Not so bad, is it?”

You felt warmth flood your cheeks, a blend of excitement and anticipation, as well as the faintest hint of embarrassment. “You’re impossible,” you said, trying to regain your composure, though your heart raced wildly in your chest.

“You have no idea what you’re getting into,” he replied, a playful smirk forming on his lips. “But I’m more than willing to show you.”

“Bring it on,” you challenged, your heart racing with both fear and excitement.

And then, before you could second-guess yourself or back out, you tilted your head back slightly, and your lips met his.

The kiss was an explosion of warmth, as sweet and indulgent as the cocoa you had been sipping. It flickered to life like the crackling fire in the corner, igniting a warmth in your heart that surged straight through to your fingertips.

You melted into him, feeling the world around you fade—the hum of conversation, the clang of glasses, the scent of pine in the air, all of it dimming in the wake of this moment.

Max’s grip on your waist tightened, pulling you even closer. The kiss deepened, and you could feel the steadiness of him against the thrumming chaos of your own pulse. His lips moved against yours with a mix of softness and urgency that sent shivers down your spine.

After what felt like both a blink and a lifetime, you pulled back, breathless. “Wow,” you managed to say, your cheeks flushed as you looked into his eyes, which sparkled with a hint of triumph.

“Wow, indeed,” he echoed, his smile broad and boyish. “You see? Better than just talking about it.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You have no shame.”

“And you’re blushing again,” he pointed out, leaning against the back of the sofa, clearly relishing the moment. “What’s wrong with a little mistletoe magic?”

“Seems like a pretty convenient setup,” you teased, trying to regain your composure. “What if someone walks in?”

“Let them!” Max shrugged, his playful energy infectious. “I’m not ashamed of how I feel about you.” His gaze softened, and for a moment, the noise of the party faded into the background.

“Guess it’s too late to act cool now,” you said, glancing around the crowded room, where your parents were happily mingling with friends and relatives.

“Merry Christmas to me, looks like I got my present,” you added, winking at him.

“Think your parents will approve?” Max's eyes danced with mischief as he leaned closer again, just inches from your face.

“They’re going to be thrilled,” you replied, sarcasm lacing your voice. “My mom has been trying to play matchmaker for months. She’s probably already trying to convince my dad to change the seating arrangement for the rest of the night.”

Max chuckled, and suddenly, the surrounding noise blurred into a vague hum as you found yourself lost in his gaze.

“You know,” he said, “I never had any special tradition for the holidays while growing up. But after today, I think I’m ready to spend the rest of my days trying to learn your family’s traditions.”

You chuckled, nudging him playfully with your elbow. “Aww man, are you really trying to win my heart?”

“Is it working?” Max asked, his smile widening.

“Maybe,” you teased, brushing a stray hair behind your ear as you tried to suppress a grin.

“Good,” he said, leaning a little closer, the playful glint in his eyes replaced with something more genuine.

“Because I’ve decided I want to experience all the things that make your family special. Like this—” He gestured to your father, who was attempting to sing a holiday tune, completely off-key.

“Yeah, that’s a real highlight,” you replied, laughing.

“I’m serious,” Max said, the warmth of sincerity filling the space between you. “I want to be a part of it all—the cooking, the awkward games, the stories that are told every year. I want to learn why your mom insists on making seven different types of cookies, or why your uncle insists he can beat anyone at charades.”

Your heart swelled at his words. “You really mean that?”

“Absolutely,” he affirmed, taking a step closer, so your shoulders brushed against each other. “You’ve made this horrible week of relentless deadlines bearable just by being you. I can only imagine how wonderfully chaotic it must be at these parties. I want to be part of it.”

Surprised, you looked down at your feet, your cheeks burning. The twinkling lights around the room seemed to echo your racing heart.

“Well, you definitely picked the right night to make such a grand declaration. Keep your expectations realistic, though. My family is… a lot.”

“Bring it on,” he said, his enthusiasm contagious. “I’m ready. Besides, you’re worth it.”

As you sat there in the warmth of your parents’ home, wrapped in laughter, full of acceptance, you realized that this could be the start of something wonderful.

The sparkling lights twinkled with promise, and perhaps, just perhaps, this Christmas would be the first of many with Max by your side. . . . .

[mochinomnoms]

On the topic of baby shirmps

I LOVE SHIRMPS SO MUCH SOMEONE STOP ME BEFORE I BREAK MY PHONE

The shirmps already come with that working mentality to go clean (IT IS SO CUTE TO SEE A SMALL SHIRMP DOING THE SAME THING AS THE BIGGER SHIRMP AAA) I am thinking that maybe now yuu is a shrimp merperson but they got eels in them would the kids come out as mixed? Maybe one of them is a shirmp but with the colors of the twins and there is also a moray eel but with the bright colors of shirmps

WHAT I WAS GETTING TO is that maybe since kids can be shirmp or eel that the baby shirmp just out of nowhere starts doing that cleaning motion and their moray eel sibling is confused about it (sort of how some cats are raised with dogs so they copy some of their characteristics)

The moray version of confusing the hell out of their shirmp sibling is that one day the eel sibling tied themselves into a knot and they go "????"

-Vaquita

Also that idea is so fucking good oml in the sweet side consider mereggs glow when in touch with their parents (the fishy way of a baby kicking)

THATS SO CUTE AAAAAAAA BABY SHRIMP BABY SHRIMP BABY SHRIMP

I like to imagine that a shrimpmer Yuu would be a Pacific cleaner shrimp, which are the ones most often found around morays. They're a bright red with a singular white stripe down their back with very long antennas:

I think that for the babies, the easiest route to take is either a moray kid or a shrimp kid in either teal or red colors. We can imagine how a hybrid might work, but that requires more time that I don't have atm to write.

I think that the moray babies would be curious of their shrimp siblings, especially when they start mimicking their shrimp parent's mannerisms and “cleaning”. They think it's cute, and the moray siblings are a great practice for cleaning for the baby shrimps! Plus, that means less work for Yuu in the long run.

On the other hand, I think the shrimp babies are confused by their moray siblings' predatory instincts. Baby morays feed on mostly small raw fish and crustaceans (like shrimp) until they get more teeth in and are able to eat larger chunks of fish provided by their fathers. The shrimp siblings get weirded how seeing their siblings feed on their animal counterparts.

Though, they all get along and like to compare their colors to each other! Some of the morays are a deep red not typically associated with morays, while a few of the shrimps are a combination of teal and red, making them look a bit like a mosaic! And, of course, all of them glow when feeling strong emotions. Mostly happiness though, they're very spoiled and cherished.

This is why they love to clutch onto Yuu when they carry another batch of eggs. Their siblings glow whenever they rub Yuu's tummy and say hello! What a sweet sight that must be!

(I have many thoughts about this, it might have to become a series at some point tbh)

[fumifooms]

Helki compilation

Helki is a prisoner-turned-servant. He’s a criminal canary and was implicitly one of Milsiril’s charges, and now that she’s retired he’s become her servant.

He must have gotten into Milsiril’s good graces, wether through attachment or convenience, which is a feat considering Milsiril’s a socially anxious recluse. Interesting since it’s not like he seems like the agreeable type, shifty upbeat delinquent style… We really don’t know much about him, not even what crimes he did, so there’s a lot of space for speculation on all grounds.

Edit: Shanghai QnA with Kui gave us a new juicy morsel of info!

Interesting… The original answer in japanese is: パッタドルと同じような杖を使っていました。今も同じものを支給されているのですが、すぐになくすのでもはや携帯していないようです。 That it’s written in japanese seems to say that there isn’t the same double translation issue there was last QnA, so if someone wants to look at the original phrasing and word choices it can be done. Perhaps Helki-Milsiril has a more protégé dynamic undertone than previously thought… "For various reasons", meaning circumstances that made it so the squad had to choose between saving him and saving their own skin, or like, "man this guy’s personality sucks we don’t really like him"? Likely to be a mix of several things, since ‘for various reasons’ implies the situation was either complex or they had multiple reasonings. In either case, the phrasing is very much that Milsiril couldn’t abandon him herself, and so a relationship sprung out of that. Another instance of outcasts seeking out and sticking with other outcasts in Dungeon Meshi. This could mean that it’s a bit less out of personal attachment and more out of a sense of duty on Milsiril’s side as well though.

Still edit: So then maybe him staying with Rin in that comic isn’t that much because of work ethics or that he cares for kids (or maybe he does because he feels kinship to them, alone and mistreated), but because he didn’t want to join the other canaries in that room chatting and laughing… Maybe the isolation was exacerbated because he became Milsiril’s favorite, teacher’s pet style, but I’d also be careful about assuming the others disproportionately dislike him, it could be that they just don’t really care for him. Why? Could be because of his personality, because he’s seen as shifty or unreliable or annoying, if an event, who knows who knows, but I like to think because of the Rin comic that he generally just tends to be a loner, that he’s "weird" in a neurodivergent vibe, he doesn’t conform to proper social behavior which in elven society seems especially alienating. He’s the only one with Rin to think of her sake, not only worth observing/caring for but also asks her to eat, but he does this with an offputting stare, not really emoting, and then well, the infamous alone with her staring munching covered in blood panel. He stands out. I’m a fan of the theory that it was a "Helki? Not that I dislike the guy but I’m not risking my skin for him" situation… Ok end edit back to older observations.

He seemed to be acting out of his own initiative in the Rin comic, he doesn’t look thrilled to be there in many post-canary comics but he also seems content enough. He restrains Milsiril in the Mithrun cleaning comic which is interesting to think of for their relationship.

It’s fun to notice how he’s the only one that didn’t get bored of looking after Rin, and then reports back about her condition… I’d say he was getting used to taking care of kids which would come with the job of serving Milsiril, but then, not enough for him to clean the blood off himself hah. In this way it’s interesting to think about his relationship to the idea of parenthood, he’s probably the closest thing to a father figure/male role model Kabru had growing up, without mentioning the other kids. I feel like he’d consider himself an older brother, cousin or uncle figure sooo much sooner than a father, but even then I do think it’s just his job and he’s not really invested or forming real relationships with any of them much.

It’s curious to note that he’s dressed in canary uniform presumably after having been pardoned and living with Milsiril? Which you can tell by the armor bits (the yellow strips of spider silk). In the Kabru training montage and the Rin comic specifically. It seems very implausible for him to have still been a canary while being a retired Milsiril’s servant and being with her all the time, and the cleaning with Mithrun comic (where he’s not in uniform) happens after Utaya so it could happen after Kabru was taken in but around the time of the Rin comic. So why uniform? It could be one of the best outfits he has, so it’d make sense to wear it around especially if you’re sparring or getting… Blood on you? Could just be because that's how Milsiril wants him to dress. But yeah we don't know when exactly Helki becoming Milsiril’s servant happened. We do see Mithrun’s charge Cithis be tasked with taking care of him, so a charge being given a servant-caretaker role doesn’t seem all that out of the ordinary, sometimes even prior to retiring.

Imo, if he doesn't work for Milsiril he goes back to jail/the canaries/has to try and get a job instead of just tending to her, so Helki is staying with Milsiril because she's the best option for him. He’s her milsiril's personal servant and does mostly dull tasks involved in that. He’s not particularly suited to the role but they’ve gotten used to each other to him so she took him with her, and he does prefer it to canary work so it works out decent for him. I think he’s used to reading her and managing her moods and he’s one of the rare social connection she has.

Under spoiler is stage 2 interpretation stuff, bigger speculation, in a reblog I’ll make soon I’ll go over my thoughts for stage 3 interpretation lol. Helsiril I’m coming for you

Translation of the canary hierachy chart used is by Thatsmimi, here

[idakyrie]

(This is part of an AU and a LOT OF TEXT asdfg) WHAT IF.... That weird deformed shape of Fake Peppino (AKA Bruno) is actually that way because of a brain problem (known as TBI)? That would explain that peculiar way of behaving (Silly? Goofy? Childish? Doesn't think straight? Doesn't know what he's doing? Almost 0 common sense, that almost permanent expression on his face, that strange way of moving... He is doing his best to stay on his feet and not melt completely (even if it shows a bit), he can barely speak coherently, among many things (WE MUST PROTECT HIM).

I'd like to think that the brain is the only organ he has, because the rest is just... Mmh, slime? amalgam? xD, it could be a HUMAN brain that Pizzahead (his creator) got (I like to think he is actually someone insane in a bad way and too different when it comes to his lab, just pretending to smile, hints of psychopath), that brain belonged to another chef, here I clarify about getting 2 adns: Peppino and Bruno (this last I mean the one from the abandoned pizzeria and yes, he is dead, where the hell Pizzahead was going to get that brain from? Actually dead for trusting a humanoid pizza)

So Fake Peppino has 2 adns? Yeah, that makes sense... Although Peppino and him don't look quite the same (Although Pizzahead's goal was that, to be the perfect impersonator), except for the clothes BUT here comes my favorite part, his stable form. 

Actually, his brain problem can be treated, he would still have 2 forms: stable and unstable, this unstable form is the one we all know, it would be present whenever he feels threatened, in danger or any other negative emotion (although he can take any form whenever he wants and be a mix of both forms).

Some history: Bruno is the first "clone" to be created, it went well, everything was perfect and one more minion... UNTIL... Pizzahead has a complicated, abusive, stupid, manipulative and ignorant attitude, basically he never treated him well, it started with scolding and even abuse (And yup! it was Pizzahead himself who caused him great injury) Why? He is a demanding and perfectionist guy, the clone had to come out EQUAL to Peppino (the irony is that he hates him and only does it to fuck up his life, to be able to replace him with some of the SO MANY clones out there) at the time he thought it was a GOOD IDEA to mix both adns and come out the same as the original, I repeat that this guy is an idiot?

Something funny is that after that he made other prototypes of clones (Classified as second generation idk) but these... None came out well, they are aberrations and can be found in a frozen chamber, he doesn't want to relive that moment and kept trying until he finally succeeded, the famous Peppino clones that can be found everywhere in the lab, inferior versions, weaker and more animal behavior than the first "clone".

Here comes another problem, Pizzahead paid more attention and was nicer to those clones, making Bruno jealous and annoyed, he never received a good treatment from him (Still he was loyal) and he had to fix and clean up all the atrocities the clones did, that means ALL the time, he could not defend himself and lived in silence, developing a great hatred towards them, precisely his behavior changes drastically to the most aggressive, just hearing a "croak" makes him angry (MODO BERSEK GOES BRR)

Many years enduring physical and emotional pain until he ends up in what? In an abandoned pizza restaurant? Just him being abandoned being very bad in all aspects? Completely alone for years, the only contact he had with others were those clones that invaded his "new home" (explaining why there are so many peppino corpses in that pizzeria).

(that girl in the image is an oc of mine hshs)

Bruno still has that silly and innocent personality, sensitive but at the same time disturbing if something bothers him. Paternal sense, playful and a big fan of Peppino, sometimes he annoys him by imitating him HAHA. Does he keep that frog behavior? YES! It's not as obvious as the clones because he knows how to control it. 

At the beginning he doesn't like to be touched, after all the problems he went through he doesn't even know if there are good people in this world, so gaining Bruno's trust is a bit complicated but if you talk nice to him (as you would do with your pet XD) the interaction will be effective. 

Does he have traumas? Besides he doesn't want to see Pizzahead and the clones again, or there will be a massacre, it's the first time someone is nice to him, he's afraid of abandonment and losing the little progress he has made... AND NEVER EVER SEE OR HEAR ANYTHING RELATED TO ANY LABORATORY AGAIN, his life was hell there, anything related either scares or angers him.

If you have any questions, you can ask and also, sorry if there are errors in my English, it is not my native language, I hope you can understand ;w;

[overtaken-stream]

α!Gagamaru Gin x Gn! β!Reader headcanon

Omegaverse is my guilty pleasure don't @ me.

Warnings: Gagamaru is a bit weird, Silly even(he's insane)

There is always that distinctive scent lingering on you, the smell that you try to explain but your vague ability stops you from pointing it out precisely. It must be strong if your nose can pick it out. So misty, cold, and incredibly familiar. No matter how many times you wash the school uniform and scrub your skin red, it comes back the next day, at what time you can never point it out, however, it's evident that it's from school.

Gin is all-natural through and through (except when it comes to his hair), and the perfumes often irritate his sensitive nose, same with sweet-smelling shampoos and body wash, he believes that they are artificial smells that stain people's true character, he has also found that those who use fake odors have many insecurities to hide, be it their second gender or their natural aroma is an unfavored one in society, it does not bother him, but he has never favored deceit. Gin believes that his smell is quite pleasant, probably influenced by all the time he and his family spent hiking when he was a pup. It reminds him of the scent of rain, petrichor was what the doctor called it when he presented. A compliment that his brain only remembered because of the correct adjective used to describe his recently discovered asset.

He remembers it all too well, the overwhelming mix of raw and false fragrances in his middle school class, packed in a classroom with no windows open. He couldn't help the scrunched nose showing on his face every day, trying to find clean air to breathe without the biological chemicals burning off his nose, for the first time in his life, Gin could clearly express his emotion all thanks to newly flowered instincts and his personal preference. It was a shame it had to be distaste. As a pup, he dreamed of having long limbs to hike with, cross the rivers, and climb on rocks without his father helping him, but if this is what it's like to be a grown-up, smelling all the smelly smells that smell bad or good, he would rather be a pup forever.

His keen hearing and eyesight are no match for his sense of smell, but now he could pick out his parent's residual odor on the school campus, hours after they've left.

Maybe it was his bias that made him favor Betas more than Omegas and Alphas, the natural and soft undertones in a society full of suffocating chemicals were liberating for Gin.

His nose was able to smell the uplifting aroma that you contained, weaker than ever hidden behind countless scents. It stayed like that between you and Gin, him enjoying your smell from the other side of the classroom while you took notes and never glanced in his direction, your nose is weaker than others, never truly being able to sense the intense pheromones swirling around.

His communication is not the best, however, he does not care enough to improve it anymore. Some view his nonchalant attitude and simple words as a negative trait. He wonders what you will think of it.

With a bag tossed over your shoulder, you stroll the chilly hallways, getting closer and closer to your destination. But just as you are about to grab ahold of the handle to open the door to the classroom, it harshly unlocks itself. An unexpected occurrence makes you softly jump on your feet before even noticing the figure standing on the other side, staring down at you with a curious tint in his round eyes, he casts a shadow on you.

``Oh I'm sorry, I didn't expect anyone...`` He says.

``It's okay...`` There is not a lot to say about him, even if you are his classmate, you don't know much about him and are not planning on knowing. As you make room for him to pass, you can feel his shoulder press against yours before he finally frees the entrance and walks away from the class. It was a confusing experience, but nothing to note of.

Gin figures that his favorite activity is scenting, his mother and his father were the first people he tried to scent, and kept their scent on him as an eleven-year-old pup up til the last year of middle school.

He is aware that leaving his pheromones on your clothes isn't the best strategy, but neither is leaving his scent on your skin while knowing nothing of you. He hopes that maybe he can change that, perhaps you will recognize that the cold smell comes from him.

Gin is a person who listens to his instincts, it's a skill needed for his beloved hobbies, however lately as you come to school without his scent, the active feeling of annoyance is hard to miss, he wants nothing but to drag you into his bed and cover you with himself, until your nose smells nothing but him on you the whole week, til someone can't differentiate Gagmaru from you. Gin wants nothing but to become one with you in those mornings. It's a shame he can only touch a part of you "accidentally" for it.

He wonders if his scent ever comforts you.

Gin will always find a way to scent you no matter what, so you might as well stop trying to clean it and start seeking him out since he is the only one whose scent matches with the one clinging to you.

The nonchalant alpha has never taken any bait thrown his way, so when his classmates start looking judgemental of his actions, Gin never remembers their words, he has already answered them once and Gagamarus don't like repeating themselves.

Maybe that's how you got to the bottom of your situation, rumors and rude words about him flying through the school until they finally got mingled with your name. So that's all he had to do to make you approach him? Hmh.

You speak so calmly when he left no roundabout way for you and made you go straight to the point.

You ask him to stop scenting you?

He likes you, maybe even loves you.

You don't believe in love at sight?

That's okay, he'll make you believe it.

The next day he puts his plan to work and brings only the best snacks for you to enjoy during lunch. Try to be nice after all, it's his first time courting someone.

[cupidastrology]

asteroid aphrodite 1388 and trines ୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

you may read more into asteroid aphrodite and trines here on my post plus 💋

the symbol for trine(s) in the birth chart is: ⵠ .

asteroid aphrodite ⵠ ascendant - youre able to seduce anyone that you like through style, presence, and ability to move through room to room. people can't get enough of you, you're the beautiful goddess in the room.

asteroid aphrodite ⵠ descendant - you may experience periods of relationships and routines that are all about self care, practicing self love, and learning how to find your own sexuality. this is the aspect that invokes self healing with a mixture of seduction.

asteroid aphrodite ⵠ mc - youre well known to be especially seductive and sexy, learning in large ways to show off your easy chances at love. you can find a big following or overall reputation that highlights your ability to seduce and express love strongly.

asteroid aphrodite ⵠ ic - you may have many suitors from the start of life, welcoming a sense of beauty and grace by childhood friends and neighbors. people in your school or upbringing may have been drawn to you. the mother or family may have been a big influence on how you should act in places of beauty or attention.

asteroid aphrodite ⵠ sun ⵙ - people can't get you out of their mind, the way you express beauty and seduction is hard to duplicate. you may use your abilities or skills to entice lovers or suitors. it's important that insecurity never falls into the mind, people can sense your like/dislike in daily life.

asteroid aphrodite ⵠ moon ☽ - you are able to focus on brand new events and peoples with a grace, pulling in others through your own emotion. when you like someone or something, it is as if an aura glows around you. love spells, romantic meditations, or practices with romance may be best for you to understand what can keep you satisfied constantly.

asteroid aphrodite ⵠ mercury ☿ - your words can attract others or seduce them. the sound of your voice or the way you express various subjects can bring eyes to look to you constantly. you may have very romantic eyes or what you create with your hands becomes a pleasure for others to enjoy.

asteroid aphrodite ⵠ venus ︎ ♀︎ - you are able to attract the most love with partners and daily life enjoyments alike. there is so issue with bringing all to your heart, possessing the ability to seduce others. you may be able to really pull in richness into your life.

asteroid aphrodite ⵠ mars - you can mix the ability to act towards impulses and goals with a conviction that is admirable. you are always able to bring in a sense of love into your desires, into hard working projects. you can get others to do for you.

asteroid aphrodite ⵠ jupiter - your love can be felt in expansive and multiple ways. the more you learn on how to attract and seduce yourself, others, and desires in daily life you will have a sense of control that's unstoppable.

asteroid aphrodite ⵠ saturn - you may attract solemn and hard set connections and needs in your life. you may see that when you truly love, it all comes to you. a need to understand simplicity and even a dedicated view of love in your life is important in the end.

asteroid aphrodite ⵠ uranus - your love and ability to bring in sexual attraction can be found in the most unexpected ways. your views on events with less popularity or knowing is attractive to others. you may get what you want in weird or annoying ways that must always be researched into.

asteroid aphrodite ⵠ neptune - you know how to attract others in outstanding ways. the love of romance spells can be found here. you know how to get what you want, you know how to use visual imagery to gain your wants, and you may have dreams of others clearly.

asteroid aphrodite ⵠ pluto - love is a hard knock in life, and here you can bring in possessive and impactful forms of love that are unforgettable. you may be connected to forbidden forms of love or love that only god can bring.

[imagobin]

Headcanon: lost zoldyck sibling reader who for some reason was taken from kukuroo Mt at a young age returns and meets their sibling for the first time and is unsure how to react.

Omg this is a really good concept. I'll see what I can do lol, hope you enjoy! HCs take place before the HxH storyline begins, so Killua's still home, and Alluka's locked up. Since it took me a while, and this requests kinda fits for it, I chose to also add smaller sections Silva, Kikyo and Zeno to the mix! But I'll go with the siblings first.

🔯The Lost Zoldyck HCs🔯

📍Illumi📍

Of all your siblings, Illumi's the only one you have any memory of, even though they're faint and blurry, you remember his almond-shaped eyes, and his cheery yet monotone voice.

He was overwhelming to be around, not because he was annoying or anything, but because of his aura. He always wanted to keep an eye on you.

It wouldn't be rare for you to spot him looking at you from a distance, studying you and making sure you didn't get yourself into trouble, as you were much weaker than them, since you'd never been trained for their... odd assassination business.

Illumi didn't show much emotion at all, but he couldn't deny that he was incredibly relieved that you were home again, and he was even happier when you were unfazed upon learning that they did for a living. "Are you really not scared...? Despite growing up away from all of this? It must be your Zoldyck blood. I'm glad, this means we can all be happy."

The first few weeks around him were really weird, as whenever he had the time to talk to you, he'd always get such a fond expression on his face as he asked you questions of how your life had been up to that point. He wanted to learn everything.

You eventually came to find that endearing. He was a little weird, but genuinely seemed to care about you in his own way.

Even if you grew up away from the mountain, he's fully accepted you back as a member of the family, and he shows that by bringing you souvenirs from his missions, just like he does with everyone else.

---

🎮Milluki🎮

Milluki initially did not care about meeting you. What's that about a long lost sibling? Certainly not something he'd waste his time on.

He doesn't understand what all the fuss is about, it's not like you're super strong or anything, you're basically just a regular human compared to them, and you're taking away even the last smidge of attention reserved to him!

Milluki was born a couple years after you, so likewise, you have no idea who he is or what he enjoys. You just know that he seems to really dislike you and generally keep to himself, locked in his room.

Since you had a normal life, you're aware that such a behavior isn't healthy, but his refusal to build any kind of connection with you makes getting through to him really difficult.

That is until he finally decides to show up for a dinner with the rest of the family, looking slightly disheveled and wearing a Dragon Ball T-Shirt, which you easily recognize.

The moment you point it out, Milluki FINALLY speaks to you for the first time in weeks! "Y-yeah... it's an Android 18 shirt. Why? You... like anime or something?"

He's a little taken aback when you admit that yes, you do enjoy anime and the like. You can see him ease up a little, and dinner quickly transforms in him rambling to you about his favorites.

Nobody has the courage to stop him, and you keep actively listening, just glad you found a common interest with him. After that dinner, Milluki is much more open towards you. He hasn't fully accepted you, but considers you a pretty good company, at least you understand what he's talking about!

---

���Killua🪀

Out of everyone, Killua is the most curious about you. He didn't know he had a secret sibling, but that's such cool news!

Sure, you can't do all the tricks he can do, but the fact that you have a completely different view from the rest of the family is thrilling to him, which makes your lack of strength worth it.

Killua's excitement about your mere existence and the new atmosphere you brought to the manor is a little odd at first, but having normal interactions with someone is nice. He doesn't stalk you around, or act as if you didn't exist, he just hangs around you like a normal kid would.

You also earn extra points because your ability to go out of the manor whenever (albeit accompanied by a butler). Makes it so you can go to the store and get him his favorite snacks. You're the coolest for that.

You can tell that Killua is different from the others, he's actually interested in what's out there, away from the world of assassins. "Illumi always said making friends wasn't necessary... but you always seem happy talking about yours... so which is it? Do you think I could make friends? Even... if I'm supposed to be the heir?"

To you, it's quite obvious that Killua, being a pre-teen, is starting to wish for self-discovery, and despite having a feeling that most of his family doesn't want that for him, you can't help but encourage him to follow that wish.

You might be one of the reasons why he ran away later on, though he's kept it a secret, not wanting you to get in trouble just because you were supportive of him.

---

🧸Alluka🧸

You almost never met Alluka. The family wanted to keep her a secret from you. Understandably, they knew you'd probably disagree with them keeping a human being locked up like that.

One day however, while hanging out with Milluki, he accidentally turned on the monitor to her room, and you saw her. Milluki tried to convince you she was just another doll, but you're not a fool, you could see that was a little girl, being kept in a room with no windows.

Since now the secret was out, the family allowed you to speak to her, but warned you not to reveal your name to her, as it could be very dangerous.

They didn't explain her powers to you, just told you that she was extremely dangerous, but when you walked through the security door, she still looked and acted like a normal girl, though the aura around her was a little odd.

When Alluka first saw you, she believed you to be another butler, but when Silva clarified through the speakers that you were her lost sibling, the little girl seemed ecstatic. "Lost... sibling? That's so cool! Wait so- you come from outside? Woooow! Hey hey, can you teach me some games others play??"

The speed at which she accepts you is a little jarring, but maybe it's because you behave normally around her, you're right there in front of her, in the flesh, instead of talking to her through a speaker like everyone else in the family does.

Until the day in which Killua manages to free her, you take it upon yourself to descend to her room and play with her or just keep her company. The family's always watching you, of course, but it's still better than leaving her on her own.

---

🪭Kalluto🪭

At first, you didn't know what kind of boy Kalluto was. He almost seemed more of an accessory to Kikyo than an actual child. He was obedient to a fault, and never did anything outside of what his parents told him to do.

He saw the way Kikyo treated you, and he did the same, giving you a warm welcome in the family.

You wondered if he truly meant it though, because aside from being nice to you whenever his mother was in the room, he mostly just ignored you. He wasn't rude to you, but also didn't make an effort to get to know you more.

That is until he's the one seeking you out. He's seen you hanging out with Killua a lot, how even if you're older and leagues weaker, he seems to have fun with you. "Big brother Killua never wants to play with me like that... why are you so... popular with him? I don't understand..."

You can tell he's jealous, although, it wasn't your intention to make him feel excluded, so you do the only thing you can do, and reassure him that whenever you're spending time with Killua, you'll also make sure to include him.

He's taken aback, probably doesn't even believe you, but you keep to your promise, you make sure the two brothers get the chance to play together.

Killua is a bit awkward the first few times, but eventually, he warms up to Kalluto. He doesn't show it but... he's really happy about it. Maybe outsiders aren't so bad after all.

---

👒Kikyo👒

Meeting Kikyo was perhaps the most overwhelming, but at the same time cathartic experience. Just like with Illumi, you had very faint memories of her.

She was overjoyed to have finally found you again, she never stopped looking for you all these years, and shed a few... actually a lot of tears when she could finally hug you again.

Kikyo can be quite overbearing as you soon find out, which reminds you of Illumi, though in her case it's even more so, as she's trying to make up for all the time together you've lost.

Sometimes, she keeps you around her for hours, just to chat and teach you all sorts of weird assassination techniques, until Silva tells her to let you go for a while.

---

☄️Silva☄️

Silva was a lot more stoic than your mother when you first met him. He welcomed you back home, but you could feel he wasn't as excited about your return as Kikyo.

The reason was that, of course, you hadn't received proper training, so aside from the natural Zoldyck strength, you didn't have much else going on for you.

At the same time, he's perhaps the one who's looking out for you the most. He's very aware of the danger that comes with being a Zoldyck, even more-so an untrained Zoldyck.

He allows you freedom to go in and out of the manor, but you're always accompanied by his most trusted butlers.

You notice Silva expresses his care in indirect ways, but that doesn't mean he cares any less about you than the other members.

---

🐲Zeno🐲

Zeno, much like Silva, was a bit difficult to read at first. He's definitely a bit more mellow than his son, but he's still the big boss around there.

This old man is like an enigma, it's rather obvious he's not really interested in making you an assassin, considering you're past the point where you can develop all the skills the others have, he kind of ignores you.

At the same time, having led a fairly normal life compared to theirs, you've brought a certain vibe in the house that he hadn't felt in years.

He asks you to join him for tea sometimes, and basically interrogates you on your life, for seemingly no other purpose outside of gathering information.

He has a tendency to be a bit of a chatter box, going on tangents whenever you mention something he's familiar with. He's a weird old man, in an endearing sort of way.

---

[lucifersgirl]

Difficult Days

Okay so I’ve had this thought for a while. I’ve fallen so hard for this man I swear to god! Anyway, enjoy loves! Have a scrumptious week!

TW: Self harm

————————————————————————

Lucifer had been acting weird lately. He had been excusing himself from rooms awkwardly. He had been avoiding the paperwork on his desk for weeks. But the weirdest thing of all was that he was distancing himself from you. Was he scared of you? Was he angry at you? You didn’t know, but you were concerned. You knew he had been dealing with depression and anxiety for years now, but you didn’t know how harsh it really was.

When you walked into your shared bedroom, you heard soft crying coming from the bathroom. “Lucifer?” You knocked on the door. “Honey, are you okay?”

“Fine, baby. Just f-fine…” Lucifer stumbled over his words.

“Can I come in, sweetheart?” When no reply answered you, you got scared. “I’m coming in, okay?” You pushed open the door delicately, giving Lucifer time to shut it if he wanted to. When he didn’t push back at all, you opened the door all the way. The sight before you was absolutely terrible and your heart ached for him.

Lucifer was sitting on the floor in nothing but his boxers. He had a bloody knife in his hand and his golden blood was all over his arms and the floor. Tears were streaming down his face and his hair was sticking out in all directions. He was looking at the floor, hiding his face from your gaze. His quiet whimpers and snivels broke the silence you were both in.

“Oh, Luci…” you whispered, slowly sinking to your knees and crawling towards him. You offered a sad smile. “Give me the knife?”

Lucifer nodded and did as you said, sliding it across the floor. He looked at you solemnly before turning away quickly, hiding his face again.

“It’s okay, baby, it’s alright now. I’m here,” you gently took his hand and kissed it lovingly, “I’m right here.”

Without warning, Lucifer launched himself into your arms. He buried his face in your chest and gripped your shirt with such force you thought he might tear it off. He cried his heart out, shaking uncontrollably as his breathing picked up and his head pounded.

You patted Lucifer’s head and stroked his back, offering reassurances and encouragement. “It’s alright now, sweetie, it’s alright. Just let it out, baby. That’s it, honey, there you go. It’s okay, my love, it’s okay,” you continued, holding him close and rubbing his scalp, which was something he always enjoyed. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“H-had a m-meeting with Heaven a-and they y-yelled at m-me and said th-that I-I was the r-reason people w-were so t-terrible b-but I was j-just doing what I th-thought was b-best f-for everyone b-but they don’t care b-because they don’t l-like m-me but I’m trying my b-be-est!” He bawled his eyes out into your chest, feeling a whole mix of emotions. Tears streamed down his face and his whole body felt weak.

“Oh, honey,” you said as you kissed his head lovingly. “ I’m so sorry, sweetheart. That must have really hurt you, huh? It’s okay now. Shh, baby, it’s okay. Just hold on, sweetie, it’s okay. Shh, shh. It’s alright, Luci, it’s alright. You’re safe now, baby, you’re safe. Shh, you’re safe.”

Lucifer sobbed into your chest, crying out in both pain and grief. “Oh~…” he groaned when he glanced at what he had done to himself.

“Why don’t I help you get cleaned up, Luci? Hmm? Would that be okay?” You always asked for his consent, even in times like these.

Lucifer nodded slowly, still bawling into your shirt. He wrapped his legs around your waist so you could get a better view of his cuts. “I-I’m s-s-sorry,” he apologized in between distraught wails. “I-I just-AH!” He hissed as an alcohol wipe came in contact with his open wounds. “Ow!” He cried out, gripping your shirt even tighter than before.

“I know, sweetheart, I know,” you whispered softly into his hair. “It’ll be over soon baby, okay? I promise,” you rubbed his back before continuing your actions.

Lucifer yelped as he once again felt the cool wipe sting his skin. “H-hurts!” He shrieked, trying to pull his arm out of your reach. “N-no more! P-please no m-more!”

“Honey,” you halted again, “I have to clean you up. I know it hurts, baby, and I’m sorry. I don’t want to hurt you, sweetie, I really don’t. But this is the only way I can clean you up and make sure that your wounds don’t get infected. Okay?” You kissed the top of Lucifer’s head and toyed with the ends of his messy hair. You pinched his neck gently, relaxing him.

Lucifer leaned into your touch, wanting to be enveloped in your warm embrace for the rest of eternity. “Okay,” he whispered as he placed his head in your shoulder, draping his one arm over your shoulder and the other on your waist. “Okay.”

“May I continue?” You asked sweetly, making sure Lucifer was ready. When he nodded again, you gently pressed the wipe onto his cuts. He hissed again, but you didn’t pull away, almost done with cleaning his angelic blood off of him. When you were finally finished, you threw the alcohol wipe into the garbage can in the corner of the room. You then grabbed bandages from the sink cabinet and opened a pack. “Okay?”

“Okay,” Lucifer replied, still clutching your shirt as pain overwhelmed his body. He felt weak and tired, unable to stand up or walk or really do anything.

You never rushed him, always asking if he was alright throughout the process. Lucifer only nodded, still weeping into your shoulder as you rubbed his back and bandaged his arms. When you had finished, you threw the remaining amount of bandages into the kitchen cabinet. “How about I carry you to bed, hm? Would that be okay?”

Lucifer pulled back from your embrace and raised an eyebrow at you. “B-but the floor…?”

“I’ll come back in here and clean it up, okay? You don’t have to worry about a single thing,” you pressed your finger to his nose and kissed his forehead.

Lucifer smiled weakly and held onto you tighter. His heels dug into the middle of your back and his hands went to your shoulders. His head leaned on your shoulder as well. He swore he could have fallen asleep right then and there if you hadn’t started moving.

You picked up Lucifer’s limp body with ease. “It’s okay, honey, it’s okay,” you whispered into his hair. You opened the door with one hand, still giving Lucifer plenty of support. You carried him to the bed, whispering in his hair on the way there. When you reached the bed, you pulled the covers back and placed Lucifer down gently. You pulled the covers over his body and kissed his forehead before walking back into the bathroom to clean the floor. You got rags and towels from the cabinet and started to clean up. However, the mess suddenly disappeared.

“I cleaned it for you, honey. Can you come back now? Please?” Lucifer called from the bed in the other room.

You sighed as you put the supplies back in the cabinet. You turned off the lights in the bathroom and closed the door behind you. Your eyes flicked over to the bed and you saw Lucifer staring right back at you. You smiled at him before asking, “Would you like a duck to cuddle with?”

Lucifer’s eyes lit up and he grinned. “Y-Yes, please,” he replied almost immediately.

You laughed softly. “Which one?” You walked over to a dresser in the corner of the room dedicated to Lucifer’s most special rubber ducks.

“The one that does backflips and spits fire! Please,” he added.

You giggled as you searched for the rubber duck. It didn’t take too long to find it, as it was on the top of the dresser. Once you found it, you brought it over to Lucifer. “This one?”

“Mhm!” Lucifer reached for it, excitement in his voice.

You handed it to him and he smiled up at you. You smiled back and kissed his cheek before getting into the bed yourself. You rubbed his back and tilted your head against his.

Lucifer rolled over onto you and snuggled into you. He hugged the duck close to his chest and leaned into your body. “Thank you,” he smiled up at you. He gently kissed your lips before laying his face back down in its position. “I love you,” he whispered into your shirt.

You chuckled lightly and pecked his forehead once more. “I love you, too, Luci,” you replied in a soft voice. “More than anything.”

————————

IM BACK BABYYY! WOO! Sorry it took me so long to come back, y’all. I had a lot of family issues going on, but I’m here now and I’m ready to write for this cute little duck man again! :)

[lost-in-fandoms]

Winter Warmers day 17: hot cocoa soup. Max & GP. About 600 words.

Max can race.

He's been telling that to everyone who questions it: his trainer, the team's doctor, Christian, Jonathan, even Helmut. It's just a little cold, and he's raced with worse. Besides, it's not even raining anymore, and his fever has gone down.

He can race.

It would be really stupid to miss a race just because he's a bit stuffy, a bit sore, a bit tired. Besides, his father would never forgive him, and he would be right not to.

So he can race, and he will race, and everyone should just shut up about it and let him focus on actually getting ready.

He's trying to work through some stretches, having to breathe heavily through his mouth because his nose is annoyingly blocked, when there's a knock on the door.

It makes him groan, not wanting to deal with someone else trying to tell him it's "unhealthy" to push his body like this, or that he doesn't "need the points" since he's not in the championship fight. As if not every single point counts!

"What is it?" he asks, hating the way his voice sounds, raspy and broken, hurting all the way through his throat.

"It's me," GP's voice answers, and he groans again, flopping back on the floor and closing his eyes.

Great, now they sent GP to try and discourage him. Awesome.

GP must take his silence for an invitation, because the door opens, and then closes, as GP's steps come closer.

"Are you alright, down there?" he asks, concern and amusement forming a weird mix in his voice.

Max opens one eye, glaring, unwilling to admit it feels a little too good to be laying down instead of preparing for the race.

He can race, and he will race, even if he has to go against the wishes of every single person in the damn garage, himself included.

The only thing is that, when he opens his eye, he finds that GP is holding something, and not his usual clipboard.

He curiously opens his other eye too, pushing himself up on an elbow to look at the tray better, trying to see what's in the bowl on top of it.

GP's smile is too fond and knowing for Max's taste as he sets it down on the small table, making him want to glare again, even as he squirms into a sitting position.

"I know this is not in your pre-race diet, but I think it should make you feel better," GP says, offering a hand to help Max up, keeping his hold until Max is solidly on his feet. "We need you in tip-top shape, after all."

GP's voice fades a bit in the background as Max takes a step forward, surprise filling him.

In the bowl there is what looks like tomato soup, steam wafting up from the surface.

He looks up at GP, not really knowing what his face is doing, emotions swirling around in his chest as the man reaches out, gently clapping a hand on his shoulder.

"Eat, drink some water, and then I'll see you out there, alright?"

Max nods automatically, not really knowing what to do.

He doesn't know what to say, doesn't know why GP is the only one who hasn't questioned him, but has brought him a bowl of comfort instead. He doesn't know how to express the gratitude and trust threatening to make him tear up. But GP doesn't ask anything from him, turning around and leaving him to it.

As he brings the first spoonful to his mouth, Max closes his eyes, trying to catch the taste of love and care with every bite.

[a-simple-imagine]

Help! My Girlfriend just Fell Down The Alt - Right Supe Supremist Pipeline pt.2

Requested by anonymous: “could you write a cate hurt/comfort where unlike andre's coward ass u actually fix her 🫶 pls and tyy”

Pairing: Cate Dunlap x fem!reader

Words: 1.3k+

A/N - turned this request into part 2 of my other cate story because i'm obsessed with the idea of cate dating an empath. you don’t have to read the first part

WARNINGS - mention of murder, death and blood

PREV //

it's a bright sunny day but the air is polluted with the rich taste of fear; a chaotic blend of fear and anger. you don't know what to do. where to go. you thought you left this behind when you ran. your head aches. heart hammering in your chest. all around you students and faculty scramble in search of safety. Bodies litter the ground. blood drowns the lush green grass. and you are powerless to stop it. useless. this school housed so many heroes but your powers were far from useful. you're almost frozen in time. this very spot on the godu campus, your newfound home. waiting. waiting for the inevitable moment someone notices and you end up just another casualty.

it's so hard to focus with the swirling emotions that invade your head. every inch of your body burned with other people's pain. everyone was feeling so much; too much. it hurt. it felt like your brain might explode. you kinda wish it would. but despite it all your eyes settle on familiar blonde hair. beautiful blue eyes stained deep red. Cate. you had left so abruptly. perhaps you should be more apprehensive right now. but you feel no ill intentions.

"h-hey," it's a pathetic murmur restrained by the pounding in your head. She was your girlfriend and you could hardly say a word. You're not even sure what you could say to rectify this. murdering dean Shetty was one thing. a sad attempt at vengeance. it was hard enough to ignore but this? this came across as insane. this was too much. you had told the others you would deal with Cate not because you actually thought you could help but because you were scared of what they would do. Cate was public enemy one on the campus today.

"I've been looking for you," there's a tenderness to her voice. a softness she reserved for you; especially right now. her emotions are hard to shift through when mixed with so many others. too many others. but a deep anger settles over you. you know it's not directed at you. it's fighting with a desire to have you understand her point of view.

"you have to stop this cate," if only it was that straightforward. if words were enough this wouldn't have happened. you wouldn't have to beg your girlfriend to stop her lethal rampage. even if she physically was not the one killing. it's a weird position to be in. one that fills your stomach with a bottomless darkness pit... or maybe that was just the scene before you. either way, you felt nauseated.

"we're actually getting somewhere," there was an overwhelming weariness to her voice. She was clearly exhausted; struggling to stand straight as she clarified her frustration. you knew well the toll her powers took. that pang of fear every time you've watched her overdo it. you wonder how many people she has pushed into doing her bidding. how much her brain must hurt. how much she needs to rest. even how many people are dying under her authority. "people need to know what was going on here. We aren't just lab rats for Vought- we deserve respect."

"I agree," a flicker of surprise almost sends the blonde tumbling to the ground. "we deserve respect but this isn't how to get it. just stop and we can- we can figure this out." it takes everything in you to risk a step closer. pinpointing her feelings amongst the rest. it was a hazy feeling; tingly almost. you couldn't quite decipher what belonged to who still.

"Why can't you see that this is the only way," she implores. "it's the only way they'll listen."

"it's not worth it Cate," you express. "you're hurting innocent people-"

"they're not innocent." she snarls. Red-hot anger bursts through your veins. your jaw tenses. fist clenched. "you heard what Shetty said. they think we're freaks. they hate us-" You don't want to think about Shetty; you couldn't. it was too much. too taxing. the blood. so much blood. so much bitterness. an unsteady breath pushes its way past your lips.

"you're hurting me, Cate," you bark; fuelled by Cate's fear. her emotions were taking over. driving you forward. "all these emotions- all this fear. my head is on fire. it's too much. I can't- I can't handle it."

"I'm sorry," she sighed, dragging her eyes away. almost like she was unable to bear looking at the suffering she was causing. "I know this is hard for you, I wish it didn't have to be but this is the only way. I'm protecting us. I'm protecting you." you didn't need to be a mind reader to know Cate's intentions. her misguided desire for retribution. more fuelled by revenge for how she has been treated than a will to help people. she's explained it all already.

"Cate..." her name slips tenderly from your lips; biting back her fire that's burning inside. "I don't need protecting. I just- I need you." your desperate now. desperate for the pain to stop. for Cate to give up this crazy crusade. you wanted to go back to how things were. you wanted to hold her hand as you walked across campus to class each morning. wanted to surprise her with a cupcake after a hard day. cuddle up in bed while you watch the cheesiest movie known to man just because she enjoyed it. you wanted normal. you deserved that. you all did. "we can figure this out. I promise we can- just give me a chance." you continue. "I don't wanna lose you." you know she's hesitant by the way her eyes flicker to you and then away again. searching for a reason to deny you. to push you away further. her anger was no longer a raging fire but a muted flame as your words settled over her. "please," expressed softly. "we can get through this together." she could read your mind. She must know you are being genuine.

"Okay," the blonde mumbles, finally meeting your gaze. such pretty eyes even stained with abuse of power. "yeah," she nods a little; holding out her hand. you pause. it would mark a sign of trust. She didn't have her glove which meant that there was a possibility this was just a trick. if you take her hand she could make you do whatever she wanted. she could push you into believing her philosophy. She could kill you if she wanted. surely she wouldn't though? your girlfriend had never used her powers on you. She used to be all about consent. but you also thought she wasn't capable of murder and look at how that turned out. she was probably in your head listening. could hear your doubt. you watch a sadness wash over her face as she retracts her peace offering and in a panic, you roughly grab her hand. it's unexpected even by you. but you couldn't give up on her. you loved Cate, you wanted to trust her. you needed to trust that she was still good.

"I trust you" blurted out loudly. drowning in her anger. in her pain and fear. it's all so much. your legs buckle and it takes significant effort to stay upright. there is a glimpse of something unexplained in her eyes. Cate was the most important person to you. you struggle to watch your paths diverge before you have a chance to tell her your feelings. She probably knew. there was no hiding with Cate. not anymore. but she couldn't hide from you either. you can feel everything. our emotions expose true intentions. and even amongst all the dread, there was a warmth radiating through now like the sun breaking through dark clouds. She held bright feelings for you. you could feel her passion radiating.

"you... trust me?" Cate asks. her voice quiet. unsure.

"I trust you," you give her hand a gentle squeeze. "I just wanna help you- let me help you."

her eyes search yours for a moment before arms are wrapped around your shoulders and Cate falls against you. you stumble back under the weight of her body; the weight of her emotions. but you still hold on tight. chasing that beautifully warm feeling. "just me and you."

"Always," whispered softly.

[tigreblvnc]

YOUR LIFE IN BLUE LOCK — @nikonautic

BACKGROUND HEADCANONS;

♤ As a kid you had good academics, i’d assume your parents put much care into your activities.

♤ So naturally, selecting a sport/extracurricular was expected as well. Soccer was pushed on to you, but you weren’t against it as you were able to use your creativity in a more physical manner than usual.

♤ Eventually you were scouted by Ego, since he caught on to your desire to make an impact, and wanted to see just how hard you’d work for it.

♤ His answer is a lot.

♤ In bluelock, you met a few people who you connected with. And knew that there’d be more along the line. If there was any place where you could meet people who you felt most comfortable with, it’d be in bluelock.

♤ So you endured and adapted through everything they put you through.

♤ And it paid off!

COLOR AURA;

♤ Yellow.

♤ A nice dandelion yellow

♤ A perfect mix of your socialness, weirdness, and ideals.

♤ You want a color that’ll leave an impact? Can’t think of anything better. The brightness of yellow is often used to balance out other parts, and can often do so on its own, without relying on other colors.

♤ Yellow looks amazing in so many palettes. It can work in many situations, even ones you think it may not look good in. But if you darken or dim it too much, it becomes much harder to appreciate.

♤ Because of that, for yellow to look its best, it must be used in usually similar tints and tones as its surroundings. As long as there aren’t too many mismatches within an environment, yellow can always pop out and support the picture in the best way.

TEAM SELECTION;

♤ Bastard München

♤ With understanding being one of your main strengths, it makes sense that you can quickly gather the details of a situation.

♤ Whether it be emotional or logistical details, both help you understand the whole situation on the field

♤ No one on BM handles failure well, there you’ll be fighting with people with the same underlying fear of losing. Although things may vary between you guys, that will remain the same.

♤ Emotions aren’t something you have to worry about either. BM is the last team to judge you for getting overly intense on field, it seems to be the case with everyone.

♤ The lead players on BM all have incredibly strong goals, and will put almost anything on the line to achieve them, spectacular plays are the expectation.

♤ This I feel you would link into very quickly.

BEST FRIEND;

✦ What a magnificent duo, Niko :)

✦ I'm not only talking about your BFF… but about your overall dynamic, not just with your BFF but with your rival as well.

✦ Not to mention your position on the field.

✦ (Although, I am going to talk about it.)

✦ I think Isagi is perfect for supporting you in your desire to grow and affirm yourself through your successes. It's a strong trait that stands out in your entire description: you seek recognition for who you are through your achievements.

✦ Isagi is very skilled at analyzing and understanding every type of player, as we've seen multiple times in the manga.

✦ And I believe he quickly grasped your intentions, how you play, and why you play that way.

✦ We also know he's someone who performs better in a tandem than alone. I'm convinced that with you, he forms a formidable duo on the field.

✦ He not only helps you achieve your goals but also makes an excellent companion in your growth. It's entirely mutual, as he also learns from your game and personality.

✦ In short, one of the healthiest duos in the lore.

RIVAL;

✦ I didn't choose your rival by chance.

✦ I find that Kaiser is one of those characters who craves recognition more than almost anyone else in the Blue Lock cast.

✦ There's a huge identity quest behind why he plays. He seeks to define himself through his achievements, through his victories. He's someone who wants to be acknowledged for what he can accomplish on the field.

✦ And like you, he has doubted himself a lot. His self-esteem is complex, even damaged by his past. These are things he hides, trying to repair through everything he's building in the present.

✦ Seeing someone else on the field, motivated by similar intentions, could hit him like a lightning bolt.

✦ Understanding someone's intentions because you share them doesn't make that person a friend. This can even spark a rivalry, as a form of ego establishes itself: "It'll be me, and me alone."

✦ At the same time, I also think you’re both capable of recognizing each other's worth. You just don't openly admit it. On the contrary, I even think you tend to hold back from each other in public.

✦ But I know that in private, you both acknowledge that you have a formidable opponent who can teach you, even indirectly, how to surpass yourselves. How to turn weaknesses into strengths.

POSITION ON THE FIELD;

✦ Striker.

✦ The first striker of this matchup series :D Pleased to meet you. 🤝

✦ It's not a position for everyone: it requires boldness, courage, and an initiative that not everyone has.

✦ This position further amplifies the dynamic between you, Isagi, and Kaiser.

✦ You become the eye of the storm during the tense moments of the match.

✦ On one hand, you're supported by Isagi. On the other, you know that the threat of a Kaiser pushed to his limits could cost you the victory.

✦ In this particularly stimulating environment, you can give your best, highlight your qualities, and challenge the greatest opponents.

✦ The emergence of Niko in front of the whole world :)

© TIGREBLVNC 2024 | OCTOBER '24 MATCHUPS EDITION.

[nkville]

we're not just friends and you fucking know it

— genre: fluff, angst,

— pairing: bsf!yeonjun x female!reader

— tw: swear words, kissing, slight arguing

— wc: 1.8k

the fresh air hit your face as you stepped out of the house, feeling the warm smell of freshly baked bread as you went closer to your favorite bakery nearby.

“good morning, mrs. lee! hmm, it smells so good in here.. oh gosh i just love the smell of freshly baked items” you said as you greeted the shop owner, who youve also known since you were a little kid.

“good morning to you too, dear. its nice seeing you here again, what would you like today?”

“uhm let me see, can i please get 2 croissants, 4 small cinnamon rolls, 2 bagels, 2 chocolate and 2 glazed doughnuts please?” you said as she looked at you in shock “oh my, do you perhaps have some guests over today?” she said as she flashed you a surprised look.

“no no mrs. lee, im actually about to go to yeonjuns place, its our 10th year friendship anniversary today and hes been really off lately so i thought why not spend the day with him, starting off with a surprise breakfast with his favourite goodies, isnt that a great idea mrs. lee?”

“oh sure it is a nice surprise, and you know what, since it's your 10th year friendship anniversary, you can have them for free no need to pay for it, enjoy your breakfast dear.” she said flashing you a soft smile giving you all the items you ordered.

“aww thats really sweet of you mrs. lee, but you made them with such effort and id feel really bad for not paying.” you refused, searching for your wallet that was deep inside your bag but mrs. lee stopped you from doing so.

“its a gift for you, my dear. id be really happy if you'd accept it” she said as you quickly thought about it and eventually accepted it.

“thank you so much mrs. lee, i really appreciate it so much, thanks a lot. i wish you a great day ahead!” you said leaving the shop.

“wishing you the same, sweetheart. goodbye!” she waved at you as you left, the excitement of seeing him filling you up as you walked the way to his house.

as you went upstairs to his apartment door, you saw how the door was open.

it was weird, but you just ignored it and slowly went inside looking around, eyes searching for your best friend who was no where to be seen around the house.

“oh wait, he must definitely be in his room sleeping, let me go and take a look” you said to yourself as you placed the bags on the kitchen counter, slowly walking up to his room.

as you slowly peeked through the door, you stood frozen in the doorway, your heart dropping like a stone as you watched your best friend, yeonjun, who you've been secretly in love with for years, passionately making out with another girl on his bed.

the sight felt like a punch to the gut, shattering your heart and the fragile hope you had been holding onto. a lump formed in your throat, trying so hard to fight back tears but you failed.

you quickly turned away, mind swirling with a mix of emotions. the room seemed to blur around you as you stumbled backward, desperately trying to grasp the reality of the situation.

how could he not see the love i had for him, the way my heart beat faster whenever he smiled, or how his laughter could light up even my darkest days? how could he not see all of that? in that moment all these thoughts kept on running around your head nonstop.

you felt weak on your knees, stumbling backward again slightly opening the bedroom door as it swung open a little wider, surprising both yeonjun and the girl he was making out with.

they pulled away from each other, their eyes widening in shock as they realized you were there, witnessing everything.

“wait- y/n its not what it looks like” yeonjun stammered, his voice desperate as he reached out towards you. you shook your head, unable to find your voice.

“no im- im sorry for interrupting you guys, just go on with what you two were doing” you said with a heavy heart, tears filling your eyes as you turned away.

“y/n its really not what you think! its just a misunderstanding y/n believe me” yeonjun called after you but you didnt listen to any of his words, running out of his apartment as fast as you could.

breathless, as you hurried to your apartment, collapsing by the door, tears streaming down your face as the moment kept replaying in your mind again and again, making you cry even harder.

“why did this happen to me.. just why..” you kept wondering to yourself how your best friend, someone who you were deeply in love with, someone who you trusted the most, could be the reason your heart is shattered into a million pieces right now.

you were lost so deep in your thoughts that at first you didnt even hear your phone ringing nearby, not knowing who was calling you.

after a few more rings you finally looked at your phone, seeing the caller id, it was none other than yeonjun himself.

feeling numb, having no energy left to answer, you just ignored the call.

as the day went on, laying down on your bed, you replayed the moments in your mind. suddenly you heard the door bell ring, going up to the door you heard a familiar voice. it was yeonjun's.

there he was, begging you to listen to him and let him explain just once. “y/n just please hear me out once.. i never meant to hurt you and i really need you to understand what happened.” he urged, his voice filled with sorrow.

“i know youre upset with me and that's why im here to make things right, please give me a chance to explain. i can't stand the thought of losing you, y/n please let me explain im begging you” he cried out.

at first you hesitated as you stood frozen for a moment before finally letting him in. as he entered, you looked at him with puffy eyes, quite unsure of what he'll say next. your heart still aching from the hurt he had caused.

despite the pain, a small glimmer of hope flickered within you. as you brought him to the living room, you gestured him to speak, silently urging him to explain himself as you sat there, waiting for him to speak.

“so, what was it that you wanted to say?” you said breaking the awkward silence between the two of you.

“listen, i know ive hurt you a lot today and im really, really sorry but believe me it was all a big misunderstanding, okay?” he said with a shaky voice.

“misunderstanding? really? you call this a misunderstanding?” you said in disbelief as you shook your head, looking into his eyes, frustrated. “i saw what i saw yeonjun and you cant deny it”

“i know it looked bad but i swear it wasnt what it seemed” he pleaded, his voice desperate. “you just have to trust me, hmm?” he added.

“trust you?” you scoffed, giving him a sarcastic laugh. “how can i trust you when i saw you with my own fucking eyes yeonjun? didnt you know i had feelings for you since the beginning, didnt you ever see me the way i see you? did you ever realize how much i love you? all the moments we've spent together, all the things we've done together, you really think there was nothing between us all this time? do they really mean nothing to you?”

“explain to me, please, because i just cant comprehend how this could be a misunderstanding” you added making him look into your eyes with nothing but sincerity and pain reflecting in his eyes.

“look, y/n im really sorry.. i didnt realize you love me the same way i love you, all these years i kept reminding myself that we're just friends and nothing more than that. but seeing how you reacted to me being with another girl just proved to me that you feel the same.”

“wait- prove? what do you exactly mean by that?” you said in pure confusion, not able to understand anything.

“let me just get straight to the point, look, for many years ive been trying to hide this from you but im glad i no longer have to. ive had feelings for you for the past few years y/n but there was just something inside me telling me you dont feel the same.” he said as you looked at him in shock trying to process everything he's saying.

“whenever i saw you with other guys at school or any gathering it makes my blood boil, thinking youre having a better time with them. i just couldnt get myself to tell you how much i loved you because of the fear i had in my heart, thats why one day i finally decided to try and forget about you”

“thats why you had been very weird to me these days, avoiding me all the time ignoring my texts and all that?” you said giving him a soft buy confused look.

“yeah and i was so stupid for doing that, my dumbass really thought i could forget about you while spending time with other girls and ignoring you but ive come to realize that whatever happens my feelings for you will never change.” he said in a comforting tone that made you literally jump inside.

“you shouldve told me, silly, all these years i thought you didnt love me back so i kept quiet.” you told him giving him a soft laugh, sadness fading away as he spoke.

“im happy to know the feeling is mutual though, so glad for finding out you feel the same. to be honest, y/n, i cant describe it with words but i fucking love you so much, really” he confessed, making your heart skip a beat as you smiled widely.

“yeah, thank god both of us found out about each other's feelings. holy fuck i feel so relieved. and yes, i love you too, a lot actually.” you said, as you gave each other a warm hug for a first time in a while, feeling safe in each other's arms.

“soo are we official?” yeonjun asked, making you roll your eyes. “of course we are. what do you think otherwise, stupid”

“ugh i can finally call you mine y/n, all mine. you have no idea how happy i am right now.”

“the feeling is mutual” you said giving him a wink. “also lets just stay like this for a while, yeah? dont wanna let you go”

“as you wish, my love. i love you.”

“i love you too, junie.” you told him, hugging him even tighter while digging your face into his chest, feeling the warmth.

[howthebestwaslost-blog]

“Shall we go and see Charlie Chaplin? Shall we? Charlie Chaplin? Charlie Chester. Charlie Brown. No, he's fiction. Friction, fiction, fixing, mixing, Rickston, Brixton.”

(Edit downstairs)

Tl;dr theory: Rogue is fictional.

I’m sure this has been analysed to death already and I’m being slow again (not really keeping up with theories), but I couldn’t sleep last night and I had the thought stuck in my brain [warning: some meandering]

The whole episode felt like comfort food freshly flown in from the RTD1 era, with silly monsters, a good amount of running and an emotional punch, but for that reason also it felt to me a bit disconnected from the rest of the season (not in a bad way tho). There was also no Susan Twist apart from the portrait, so the season arc was pretty much invisible, too.

Except.

Except I think it could have been very much within the bigger arc that is still on. I think it’s already part of the next season arc. I’m going with the Mrs. Flood is the God of Storytelling theory, and she is fictionalising the Doctor’s whole life. That’s obviously where the fourth wall breaks come from (only she and Maestro did it iirc, so they must be on the same level, and the Doctor of course, but he’s the Main Character). That’s where the weird musical ending came in and the magical cross-walk. Now we have an episode simply called ‘Rogue’, introducing the Doctor’s new love interest [hand grabbing, “run”, the assembled hordes of- no wait] who gets sucked into another dimension saving the world - I get distracted - and his name is so on the nose. It’s like they got stuck finding a name for the character, proceeded to write the whole thing with this as a placeholder and then simply decided to keep it. There was enough lampshading with the dice to suggest a plausible origin, but come on. He is the rogue, he’s got his cool cluttered ship full of second hand tech, a semi-legal, morally dubious profession, he’s silent, he’s on his own, he’s got an awesome coat and a tragic backstory. He’s straight out of a story. He’s not an individual character, he’s a type (which is not to say that Jonathan Groff did not give him all the personality and realness and made him much more than just that, and I love him). Even the place, Pemberton (Pemberley/Bridgerton, obviously), is shamelessly fictional [edit: ok it’s not the place but the Duchess is at least Duchess of it, so it technically still works I think - see comments // also with ‘fictional’ I mean mashed up from two popular fictional names, I did not get out what I was trying to say at all - did I mention my lack of sleep]. But what if all this is part of a bigger design? I thought it was meant to be a cheeky, guilty pleasure kind of thing, a wink to the audience, saying “we know… but you love it too, don’t you”. But while we were all going crazy over whether or not Rogue is coming back, the Doctor wearing the ring and turning it on his finger in his closing scene of the finale had long been filmed. I think the episode is tied to the greater arc exactly by being so blatantly stacked with tropes. The Doctor meets a tall handsome stranger, perfectly suited for him. He inevitably loses him, but with an irresistible sequel hook. I think someone inside the show’s universe wrote this story just for him. And that’s why I’m sure Rogue will be back with a surprise.

Does that mean he’s another unsuspecting trap? Is he a real person literally doomed by the plot or an invention woven into reality? Is someone sending the Doctor through the drama and the emotions and the plot twists for their entertainment?

How much fan fiction did Rogue inspire in the first 24 hours?

*Edit

Holy shit I just realised

His new boss is really big on PAPERWORK 👀 📚

[dujour13]

Owlcatober 25. Smooth

Fandom: Wrath of the Righteous

No spoilers in this one but it does make reference to some shenanigans in The Lark and the Crow.

Also on AO3

---

They nabbed him just as he turned the corner and hauled him up hard against the alley wall. Both arms pinned, trachea crushed by an elbow, Woljif began a choked incantation and then stopped himself as three overfed moon-like faces loomed into sight. The Brevan braggarts.

Ah. No need to panic after all. This was salvageable.

“What can I do for you gentlemen?” he wheezed. His tail snaked along the wall and hid itself behind his leg, recalling a previous incident with these same “gentlemen.”

The middle one leaned in. His breath stank like Gran’s—only instead of cheap moonshine, the top-shelf stuff. “Those potions of Mighty Prowess and Virility you sold us. They don’t work.”

“Yeah,” said the left one, popping the cork on a vial and knocking back its contents, and then staring pointedly at Woljif as nothing whatsoever ensued. “Do I look mighty and virile to you?”

“Uh. I don’t get it. What in the Nine Hells?” He managed to shrug them off him with the big innocent puppy-eyes. “Lemme try one a’ those.”

A vial was thrust at him and he downed it in one gulp. Very much exactly what he expected, because he was the one who brewed it: cheap mead mixed with beet juice.

He screwed up his face. Looked at the sky. Folded his arms over his chest.

“Huh.”

“You are gonna pay up, guttertief, one way or another.”

“Holy Inheritor and all the good gods, I been grifted!” Woljif cried, blinking up some moisture in his eyes. “I can’t believe it. Those scoundrels! And I gave ‘em every last copper I had to my name and now my ol’ Gran’s gonna go without supper, all because I was too green to see it, and with her sick and all. Oh, what have I done?”

Over the course of this performance the Brevan who had drunk the potion began to make an odd face.

If it weren’t for the subtlest hint of jasmine on the breeze Woljif would have been hoodwinked. As it was he watched with carefully suppressed glee as the Brevan puffed himself up, flexed his muscles and let out a bellow like a bull.

“It’s kickin’ in,” Woljif said helpfully while the other two Brevans looked on in wonder at their companion.

“Then how come the other potions didn’t work?” One of them turned on him and made as if to push him up against the wall again but he ducked aside.

“Must be you gotta build up a head a’ steam, a little, you know, emotion. A little rage. A little passion. To start the fire.”

The Brevans nodded, wide-eyed as their companion whooped, picked up a barrel in one fist and threw it down the alley, where it splintered spectacularly against the wall.

“I got a few more in stock,” Woljif called after them hopefully but they were already gulping potions and heading whooping back out into the city.

As soon as they were gone he started to slip away in the opposite direction but there before him out of thin air was the chief, every clashing color of the rainbow and smiling from ear to ear.

What was that weird flipping-over feeling in Woljif’s chest? He made a mental note to see Sosiel and get his heart checked.

“Anevia caught wind you might be in trouble, so I came down to make sure you were all right.”

“I had it under control,” Woljif muttered. Why did his face feel so hot? It wasn’t the “potion,” anyway, that much was for sure.

“I know,” the chief shrugged. “That was pretty smooth. I hope you don’t mind if I had a little fun with the old Elysian enchantment.”

Is he pullin’ my tail?

Not a sign of it. Nothing but a complicit gleam in his handsome hazel eye.

The shy smile that crept up on Woljif was quickly effaced. “Yeah well, I reckon I owe you one.”

“Buy me a drink?”

“Sure.” Woljif’s whole stupid body said it before his brain could catch up, and then he spent the walk to the Half Measure grappling with wild swings of humor between sourly calculating the price of Andoren wine and giddily aware of the comfortable glow of the chief at his side, and it wasn’t until he was seated at the bar at the Half Measure watching Siavash take a long, appreciative sip that he realized he wasn’t the one who’d been smooth.

[piratefishmama]

Beware the Thorns | Part 6

It wasn’t that Eddie hadn’t heard him. It wasn’t that he hadn’t heard him try to convince him to stay, try to say that something was there. It was that Eddie didn’t believe anything was, at least not for Steve. Steve, who shared very little of his life outside of that apartment, who in that same vein, didn’t know him either because Eddie couldn’t share himself.

The real him. The him who wouldn’t be caught dead in lingerie because it did not vibe with his image. The him who liked to climb on things and perch like a weird little gargoyle. The him who couldn’t stop himself from headbanging to metal music or becoming impossibly giddy over a new set of dice. The three-day old stubble eating chocolate milk Cheerios out of a mixing bowl him.

Steve knew a persona; a role Eddie had so effortlessly slid into like the little drama kid he’d always been.

Steve couldn’t have feelings for him because Steve didn’t know him. Maybe he did feel something, but it wasn’t for him, it was for a person that didn’t exist, a false identity designed to be the perfect someone for a select type of person.

That was what drove Eddie to continue his trek to that elevator, to keep going, to ignore the spike of pain that shot through him when Steve didn’t try a second time to call out to him. Didn’t try to run after him. This wasn’t a movie.

He wasn’t Julia Roberts; nobody was going to climb a castle to rescue him from the tower.

He went home to his apartment, stripped himself of his ‘costume,’ and stepped into his shower, he’d showered the night before, he’d cleaned himself the morning after, but he needed to do it one more time, just to... wash him away.

Wash Steve away from him, any remnants both physical and emotional, he’d watch them circle the drain and disappear.

He didn’t need to set anything up straight away either, no need to slide into anyone's DM’s, didn’t need to go ‘crawling’ back to Hagan after his subtle split from Harrington, hopping from man to man was a bad look for anyone, it’d garner judgement from the masses always eager to soak up the hot gossip concerning strangers they’d never meet.

It might even put Steve in a bad light.

What must seemingly perfect Steve have done to make Eddie go back to Tommy Hagan; it was best to work that angle slowly. Maybe just live with himself for a few weeks. He had plenty in the bank, his apartment was almost paid for, he could live comfortably for a little while without being in the spotlight as anyone's paid for arm candy.

Maybe he could work on a new campaign, Dustin had been hinting at missing the regular Hellfire meet ups and the guys weren’t exactly miles away.

He had to look at the good things, because otherwise he’d focus on the hickies that remained on his skin and all the willingness in the world to expel those pesky feelings that reminded him of just how pitifully human he was, just wouldn’t be enough. He couldn’t just let himself have it.

Couldn’t just let himself keep Steve for a little longer, maybe stay in his arms for a bit longer than he had, maybe snuggle into that broad chest for just one more morning until real life called.

It was for the best. He told himself that on a loop as he went through the motions of scrubbing his skin as if it weren't already clean. As he went through the skin care routine he knew he’d forget if he didn’t do it religiously, dress in his comfies and he’d sit with himself on the couch. Maybe he’d pull his guitar from its stand, pull out some of his notebooks and use whatever he was still feeling as inspiration to make something new.

Maybe he’d just watch TV, surf the internet on his phone.

He hated the times in between the clients. The moments where he was just... himself. He didn’t know what to do with himself. How to be with himself. Something he had been working on with his therapist but when those moments happened once every few years at a time... it was hard to get used to them.

Hard to get used to the moments where he didn’t have to be expecting someone to call at any moment, didn’t have to be ready to pull a persona out of thin air at the drop of a hat to please someone.

It was easy to find oneself lost in that kind of quiet, so he plugged in his amp and made noise.

--

Across the city, Steve Harrington… was on a little bit of a warpath. After wallowing for a while, sitting there in silence trying to think, trying to make sense of everything, trying to understand where he went wrong, the only conclusion he could actually make that made any sense, regardless of what Eddie had said…

Was that Eddie knew.

That he made up some bullshit about being in too deep and cut the chord to protect himself, which… fair. That was fair, but it also meant someone had ratted him out.

Someone had told Eddie, somehow it’d gotten to him that things weren’t as sunshine and rainbows behind the curtain of Steve Harringtons life, that the ‘red wine stain’ on his shirt a month or so ago wasn’t wine at all. Eddie had believed the lie too easily, had let it go without a fight, without further question, just commented on a way to get red wine out of things, something about hairspray and blotting.

How long had he known for? How long had he kept his knowledge to himself? Had he told anyone? No… no doubtful, Steve didn’t have law enforcement breathing down his neck so no… the chances of Eddie telling anyone were low, probably next to none since he cut the cord so cleanly. Didn’t mean he wouldn’t if pressed by the law though.

If they got a whiff. Anyone he’d been in contact with would be fair game.

He picked up his phone, scrolled through his contacts, selected the one he knew he needed, and hit dial, it rang twice before it was answered.

“You’re through to collections, can I take your reference ID please?”

“Buckley. Tell her it’s Harrington.”

“Hold please.” It took ten seconds for the line to transfer, and an extra two for the voice on the other end to speak, with an undoubtable grin on her lips on the other end.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, Steve?” As if he didn’t call every few nights just to catch up.

“I need you to find someone for me.”

“Oooh, fun.”

Part 8