#COOKING IS THE COZIEST LET'S BE REAL

[jzprncess]

the neighbor effect

pairing : oscar piastri x reader

oneshot

word count : 9,449

summary : Y/N moves to Monaco for a fresh start, thinking it’s just gonna be her, baking, and figuring things out. Then there’s her neighbor, Oscar—super chill, always around, but completely mysterious. They bond over cookies and muffins, and Y/N has no idea that he’s actually a Formula 1 driver. But when the Monaco Grand Prix weekend rolls around, everything goes haywire when Y/N realizes she’s been living next to someone way more famous than she ever imagined. Between all the confusion, a surprise kiss, and the chaos that follows, Y/N’s not sure if she’s in over her head—or if she’s exactly where she’s meant to be.

note : i had to rewrite parts of this over and over again. this is my longest fic so far, lets clap it up. i actually cooked with this one, please like it.

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Moving to Monaco in the middle of December sounded a lot more glamorous in theory. In reality, I spent my first night huddled under three mismatched blankets, seriously debating whether the heating in my shiny new apartment was broken or if this was just what Mediterranean winter felt like.

I’d moved here for a fresh start, something about leaving old baggage behind and stepping into the next chapter of my life. Except no one tells you that starting over often means spending a lot of time alone, wondering if you made the right decision.

That’s how I found myself in the hallway on my second day, struggling to carry a too-large box labeled Kitchen Stuff & Regret. I hadn’t realized how much I’d overpacked until I was halfway to my door, my arms trembling under the weight.

“Need a hand?”

The voice startled me, and I nearly dropped the box. I turned to see a guy standing a few feet away, wearing a black hoodie, gray joggers, and a curious expression.

“Uh, no, I’m good,” I lied, immediately regretting it as the box tilted precariously.

“Right,” he said, clearly unconvinced. Without waiting for permission, he stepped forward and took the box from me like it weighed nothing.

“Show-off,” I muttered, but I couldn’t help but smile.

He raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly. “Just being neighborly.”

“Thanks,” I said as he followed me to my door. “I’m Y/N, by the way.”

“Oscar,” he replied, setting the box down inside my apartment.

Up close, I could see he was probably around my age—early twenties—with sharp features and an easy confidence about him. He glanced around my half-unpacked living room, taking in the mess of boxes and furniture.

“Just moved in?” he asked.

“Yeah. Trying to figure out where I want everything before I give up and let chaos take over.”

He smiled, nodding toward the box. “Well, good luck with that. I’m right across the hall if you need anything.”

“Thanks,” I said, leaning against the doorframe as he stepped back into the hallway.

“See you around,” he said with a nod before disappearing into his apartment.

And just like that, I had my first real interaction with the mysterious neighbor across the hall.

After he left, I stood in the doorway for a moment, staring at the closed door across from mine like it might open again. Spoiler alert: it didn’t. With a shrug, I kicked the box into the living room, officially declaring it a problem for Future Me.

The next few days were a blur of unpacking, assembling furniture, and discovering that Monaco in December was a lot colder than I’d prepared for. Gone were my delusions of sipping coffee on the balcony in the morning sun. Instead, I huddled inside, bundled in my coziest hoodie, and watched the world outside through the frost-slicked windows.

Oscar, true to his enigmatic vibe, was nowhere to be seen. A part of me wondered if he was some kind of ghost who only materialized to save clumsy new neighbors and then vanished into the ether. But his sporadic comings and goings proved otherwise—sometimes I’d hear the ding of the elevator late at night or the faint shuffle of footsteps in the hallway. I never caught him, though.

Until one particularly cold Saturday morning.

I was juggling a steaming mug of coffee, my phone, and a box of garbage bags as I headed for the trash chute at the end of the hall. The scene was already precarious, but things got worse when my phone buzzed with a notification. I glanced down instinctively, and that was my fatal error.

One wrong step, and my foot caught on absolutely nothing because I’m just that talented. I stumbled forward, my coffee cup slipping from my grasp in a glorious slow-motion arc.

“Oh, sh—”

A hand shot out, catching the cup mid-air.

“Impressive,” came the familiar voice.

I turned, my face hot with embarrassment, to see Oscar standing there, coffee cup in one hand and an amused smirk on his face. He was in the same casual uniform as before—hoodie, joggers, and sneakers—but this time with a beanie pulled low over his head.

“I’m fine, thanks for asking,” I said, trying to play it cool despite the very uncool way I’d almost face planted.

“You’re welcome,” he said, handing me the cup.

“How do you keep showing up exactly when I’m about to embarrass myself?”

“Great timing, I guess,” he replied, leaning against the wall.

I could tell he was holding back a laugh, which only made me more flustered. “Do you just hang out in the hallway waiting for me to trip over thin air, or…?”

“Caught me,” he said, deadpan. “It’s my new hobby.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “Well, thanks for the save… again.”

“No problem.” He glanced down at the garbage bags I’d dropped in the chaos. “You planning to carry all that to the chute by yourself, or should I brace for round two of Disaster Neighbor?”

“Ha, ha,” I said, handing him a bag. “Since you’re offering, you might as well help.”

third pov

By the time they made it to the trash chute, Y/N had successfully recovered from her near wipeout—mostly. Oscar, on the other hand, seemed far too amused by the whole thing.

“So,” she said, trying to fill the silence as they walked back to their apartments. “Do you just live in the gym, or are you naturally good at catching falling objects and lifting heavy things?”

He shrugged. “Bit of both.”

“Not much of a talker, huh?”

He glanced at her, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. “I talk when there’s something to say.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Mysterious and vague. Classic.”

They stopped outside her door, and for a moment, there was an awkward silence. She fiddled with the sleeve of her hoodie, suddenly hyper-aware of how close they were standing.

“Well, thanks for the help. Again.”

“Anytime,” he said, his tone casual but warm.

She opened her door, stepping inside. As she turned to close it, she caught him glancing down the hallway, like he was debating something.

“See you around?” she offered.

“Yeah,” he said, meeting her gaze. “See you around.”

The door clicked shut, and Y/N let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. She leaned against the door for a moment, her mind replaying the interaction like a movie montage.

It wasn’t much, but it was something.

And for now, that was enough.

y/n’s pov

It all started with a craving and a little too much confidence.

Baking had always been my go-to for stress relief, but I tended to overestimate how much one person could realistically eat before things got weird. Case in point: the mountain of oatmeal walnut cookies currently cooling on every flat surface of my kitchen.

“Great job, Y/N,” I muttered, surveying the sugary battlefield. “Really nailed the whole moderation thing.”

The smell of warm cinnamon and toasted walnuts was amazing, but even I had limits. Unless I planned on eating cookies for every meal for the next week—which, tempting as it sounded, probably wasn’t the move—I needed a plan.

That’s when my eyes flicked toward the door across the hall.

My neighbor hadn’t been home much, but when he was, he seemed nice enough. And if anyone looked like they could put away an entire batch of cookies without breaking a sweat, it was the guy who casually caught flying coffee cups and lifted trash bags like they were empty.

Grabbing a plate, I stacked a neat pile of cookies on it, covering them with foil. I debated for a second, wondering if this was too random, but then I thought, What’s the worst that could happen? Worst case: no one’s home, and I keep the cookies. Best case: I earn brownie points—or, well, cookie points—with the mysterious dude across the hall.

Balancing the plate in one hand, I opened my door and stepped into the hallway.

third pov

Y/N hesitated in front of Oscar’s door, suddenly hyper-aware of how quiet the hallway was. For all she knew, he could’ve been halfway across the world. But before she could talk herself out of it, she raised her free hand and knocked lightly.

There was a pause, long enough for her to start retreating, but then she heard the lock turn.

The door opened to reveal Oscar, looking a little rumpled but still effortlessly put-together in a hoodie and sweats. His hair stuck up slightly, like he’d just rolled out of bed.

“Uh, hey,” Y/N started, holding up the plate like an offering. “I, um, baked too many cookies and thought… maybe you’d want some?”

For a second, Oscar just blinked at her. Then a small smile tugged at his lips, softening his usual stoic expression. “Cookies?”

“Oatmeal walnut,” she said, suddenly feeling a little ridiculous. “Unless you’re allergic to walnuts. In which case, I’m so sorry, and I’ll just—”

“I’m not allergic,” he cut in, stepping aside. “Come in.”

y/n’s pov

I followed him into his apartment, still holding onto the slightly awkward feeling of standing at someone’s door with a plate of cookies. His space was immaculate—like a showroom. Sleek black counters, stainless steel appliances, and not a single thing out of place. My own apartment, with its half-unpacked boxes and cluttered surfaces, suddenly felt like a war zone by comparison.

“Wow,” I said, glancing around. “Your place is… ridiculously clean. Do you live here or just visit?”

He smirked as he placed the plate of cookies on the counter. “I’m not here much. It’s easier to keep clean when you’re gone half the time.”

“Fair,” I said, leaning against the counter as he peeled the foil off the plate. “Meanwhile, my place looks like I’m hoarding cardboard boxes and random piles of clothes. Maybe I’ll just hire you to organize for me.”

He glanced up, an amused glint in his eye. “I’ll pass. But thanks for the offer.”

I laughed. “That was fast. I didn’t even get to bribe you with more cookies.”

“Speaking of,” he said, picking one up and turning it over in his hand like he was inspecting it for quality control, “what made you bake… this many?”

“Stress,” I admitted, crossing my arms. “Unpacking is the worst. Plus, I’m a chronic over-baker. I think I made about sixty.”

He raised an eyebrow, taking a bite. “Sixty?”

“Give or take.”

“You know there’s only one of you, right?”

“That’s why I’m here,” I said with a grin. “I figured I’d share the wealth.”

He nodded, chewing thoughtfully. After a moment, he swallowed and said, “These are good.”

“You’re not just saying that, are you? Be honest.”

“I’m serious,” he said, reaching for another. “If I didn’t like them, you’d know.”

“Good to know you don’t sugarcoat things,” I said. “No pun intended.”

“Sure it wasn’t,” he said with a small smirk.

I rolled my eyes but smiled. “You’re lucky I like honesty. Anyway, I hope you’re hungry because I’ve got a whole army’s worth of these across the hall.”

“I can tell,” he said, grabbing a second cookie. “You ever thought about selling these?”

“Selling cookies? No, not really,” I said, a little flustered by the compliment. “I mean, it’s just a hobby.”

He leaned against the counter, taking another bite. “Could be a profitable hobby.”

“Oh yeah? Think I could make it big with oatmeal walnut cookies? Maybe I’ll start a cookie empire.”

“Could be worth a shot,” he said, his tone completely serious, though I could see the hint of humor in his expression.

“Alright, well, if I go global, I’ll make sure to mention you in my TED Talk about chasing my dreams,” I said with a laugh.

“Appreciate it,” he said, deadpan.

I shook my head, still smiling. “Alright, I should get going. Don’t want to interrupt your… whatever you were doing before I showed up.”

He glanced toward his living room, where a laptop sat open on the coffee table. “Wasn’t doing much. Just catching up on some things.”

“Well, now you’ve got cookies to keep you company,” I said, pushing off the counter.

“Thanks for these,” he said, walking with me toward the door. “They’re seriously good.”

“Anytime,” I replied. “And if you ever need more… or, you know, want to start organizing my apartment, just let me know.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, opening the door for me.

I stepped into the hallway and turned back to face him. “Enjoy the cookies, Oscar.”

“Thanks, Y/N. See you around.”

As the door clicked shut behind me, I couldn’t help but smile to myself. It was such a simple interaction, but it left me feeling lighter somehow—like I was finally settling into this new life, one cookie and awkward conversation at a time.

third pov

The morning light streaming through the kitchen window felt different today, like a fresh start. Y/N stood at the counter, stirring a bowl of banana bread batter with a slight smile on her face. She had a steady rhythm, something she had found comfort in since moving to Monaco. Today, however, was different. She wasn't just baking for herself or because she had nothing else to do.

After dropping off the cookies to Oscar yesterday, she’d felt an odd rush of excitement. Oscar hadn’t said much—just thanked her and ate them right there—but there was something in the way he seemed genuinely happy that had sparked an idea in her head.

Maybe I should actually consider this...

She’d been thinking about it all night, the thought gnawing at her in the quiet moments before sleep. A job. Something more than just living off her savings while she figured out what to do with herself. The idea of working in a bakery, helping people start their day with something sweet, didn’t sound half bad. Maybe she’d make some friends along the way, too.

She paused mid-stir to glance around her kitchen. It was quiet—too quiet. Her move to Monaco had been a whirlwind, and while the city was beautiful, the loneliness had crept in unexpectedly. She had only met Oscar three times, and those encounters hadn't been enough to spark a friendship, though he had been kind enough to compliment the cookies she’d given him. But she still didn't have his number. She had no way of reaching out to him for anything beyond another casual greeting if their paths crossed again.

With a sigh, she refocused on her muffin batter. The oven was preheated and ready for the batch of banana muffins she had planned. She didn’t even need the muffins for herself—she simply needed something to do.

She scrolled through a few ads on her phone for bakeries and cafes around Monaco, her fingers flying across the screen as she filled out application after application. Maybe, just maybe, this would be the start of something new.

The smell of ripe bananas filled the room, and Y/N smiled. There was something simple and grounding about baking. She didn’t need anyone else to validate her, but a small part of her wished she had someone to share the muffins with. Maybe she would take a batch to one of the cafes she’d applied to, just to show that she could bake more than just cookies.

The timer went off, signaling that the muffins were done. She pulled them from the oven, their golden tops warm and inviting. As she arranged them on a cooling rack, she couldn’t shake the feeling that this was a step in the right direction.

Oscar’s casual suggestion about working at a bakery had lingered with her since yesterday. She hadn’t really considered it before, but now, with a fresh batch of muffins in hand, it felt like the right time to take action. She’d send some applications today, maybe stop by a few places, and see where it led.

Even if it was just a way to get out of the apartment, maybe it would help her feel a little less alone.

After a few hours of cleaning up and putting away the last batch of muffins, Y/N sat on her couch, scrolling through her phone. She had sent a few applications and gotten a couple of quick responses asking her to come in for interviews. The thought made her feel lighter, like she was moving in the right direction. But, as she scrolled through her messages, she found herself wondering about the cookies she'd given Oscar yesterday.

What if he didn’t even like them? she thought for a second, gnawing at her lower lip. She had never done something like that for a neighbor before. It was a little… weird. But then again, they had barely talked, and she'd barely known anyone here. He probably just thought it was some random act of kindness, nothing more.

Still, she couldn't help the little spark of excitement that lingered in her chest.

With the muffins cooling on the kitchen counter, Y/N decided to go for a walk to clear her head. She tossed on her coat, scarf, and gloves—layers that were necessary with the December chill in the air—and left her apartment. The streets of Monaco were quieter now, the city settled into the crisp stillness of a cold winter evening.

As she made her way down the narrow streets, her breath puffed out in little clouds in front of her. The air was freezing, her fingers cold against her gloves, but the walk felt necessary. It was good to get out, especially with how cooped up she had been lately. The familiar feeling of solitude wrapped around her as she passed by boutique storefronts with their windows adorned for the holidays, the twinkling lights reflecting off the damp cobblestones.

She stopped at one of the cafes, the warm, inviting aroma of freshly brewed coffee and pastries pulling her inside. The door closed behind her with a satisfying jingle, and the warmth hit her face immediately. She smiled, relieved to be out of the cold.

“Coffee?” the barista asked as she walked up to the counter.

Y/N nodded, pulling off her scarf. "Please. A hot cappuccino, if you’ve got it."

The barista gave her a warm smile as she prepared the drink, and soon enough, Y/N had a steaming cup in her hands. She found a small corner table by the window and sank into the chair, basking in the warmth of the café. It was a cozy little spot, the kind where time seemed to slow down.

She stared out the window as the temperature outside dropped even further, the last few people hurrying by in layers of coats and scarves. The city felt almost otherworldly, peaceful and cold, a strange mix of quiet stillness. Y/N took a sip of her cappuccino and leaned back, letting the warmth seep into her bones.

It was then that she heard the door open again, a jingle sounding through the cafe. She glanced up, her eyes scanning the new arrivals. Her gaze landed on the familiar figure—Oscar, her neighbor, walking in with his coat zipped up tight against the cold.

He spotted her right away and waved with a grin. "Hey, Y/N!" he greeted her.

Y/N smiled back, a little surprised to see him here but pleased. “Hey, Oscar. Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Yeah, I just needed a quick coffee break,” he said, walking up to the counter. He ordered something quickly, then turned back toward her. “How’s your day been?”

She shrugged, feeling a little shy now that they were actually talking. “Good. Just baking and applying for some jobs,” she said, gesturing to her cup. “Needed to get out for a bit. It's freezing out there.”

Oscar nodded, his expression sympathetic. “I know what you mean. It’s cold enough to freeze your breath. I was just out getting some stuff for my place.”

The small talk felt comfortable, and Y/N found herself a little more relaxed with him standing there. He seemed like a genuinely nice guy—just a neighbor.

“Well, it’s nice to see a friendly face,” she said, smiling. “Monaco's a little lonely for me right now, to be honest.”

Oscar smiled back. “I get that. I moved here for work, and it's not always easy to adjust. You’re not alone, though. Everyone here’s pretty friendly.”

Y/N appreciated the sentiment and nodded, taking another sip of her drink. “Thanks, Oscar. It’s good to know.”

As he grabbed his coffee, Oscar gave her a wave before heading to a table by the window. Y/N returned to her thoughts, a warm feeling lingering in her chest. They hadn’t exchanged more than pleasantries, but something about the simple, easy conversation made her feel a little less isolated.

Y/N took another sip of her cappuccino, her eyes still lingering on Oscar as he settled at a table by the window. She couldn’t shake the feeling that it was a weirdly comfortable interaction, like one of those moments where you just feel like you clicked with someone—even if it was just casual banter about the cold.

And then, as she sat there thinking about how chill the whole thing had been, something inside her clicked.

A rush of confidence hit her like a wave. She wasn’t gonna sit here thinking about it for another second. She stood up, grabbed her cup, and made her way over to Oscar’s table like she owned the place. No hesitation. She slid into the seat in front of him without asking, crossing her arms with a mischievous grin.

“Well, well, you’re sitting so far from me. I was just telling you how lonely I was, and here you are, acting like you’re too cool to sit with me,” she said, eyebrow raised, voice teasing.

Oscar blinked in surprise for a second, clearly not expecting her to come over. But then he chuckled, clearly amused. “Wasn’t trying to be rude. Just thought I’d give you some space.”

“Oh, no space needed,” Y/N shot back, pretending to think for a second. “But if you want, I did make some banana muffins. 25 of them, actually. So, uh, you can have some later, I guess… if you’re lucky.” She leaned back, her tone playful.

Oscar’s grin spread wider, and Y/N could swear she saw his eyes light up a little at the mention of food. “Banana muffins, huh?” he said, leaning forward in his seat, the playful energy between them clear. “You’re really trying to tempt me, huh?”

Y/N smirked. “Maybe. Maybe not. I guess you’ll have to find out later.” She took another sip of her cappuccino, looking around the cozy café for a moment before her eyes landed back on him. “So, what’s your story, anyway? Besides buying coffee and sitting by windows, I mean.”

Oscar leaned back in his chair, clearly comfortable now. “Not much to tell,” he said casually. “Just trying to survive this cold. What about you, Y/N? What’s your deal?”

Y/N just shrugged, feeling more at ease with each passing second. “Oh, you know, baking muffins, trying to find a job, avoiding getting too lost in the city…” She shot him a quick look. “Honestly, though, Monaco’s a little weird, but I’m getting used to it. It’s quiet, but not the fun kind of quiet.”

Oscar nodded, his smile softening. “I get that. I felt the same when I first moved here.”

They both sat there for a few seconds, enjoying the unexpected company in a way that felt surprisingly easy for a random Tuesday afternoon.

Y/N leaned back in her chair, letting the conversation with Oscar flow naturally as they both sipped their drinks. The winter air outside had only gotten colder, but the warmth from the café made it all feel like the perfect backdrop for the two of them to talk.

“So,” Y/N began, her eyes catching his, a sudden boldness hitting her again. “Since you’re clearly not going to accept my muffin offer until later, how about we do something else next time? You know, before I leave Monaco to escape all the cold?”

Oscar raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Escape the cold, huh? Where would you even go?”

Y/N shrugged, tapping her cup with a playful grin. “Maybe I’ll find a place that has better heating. Monaco’s nice and all, but a little more sunshine wouldn’t hurt.”

“Fair point,” Oscar chuckled. He paused for a moment, then looked at her with that signature, easygoing smile. “I could show you around sometime, if you wanted. Monaco’s got some hidden gems.”

Her heart gave a little skip at his suggestion, but she played it cool. “I’d like that. But I’m not one for getting lost in tourist traps, so it better be good.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not taking you to the usual spots,” he said, leaning back slightly, amused. “I promise. You’ll actually see some of the cool stuff here.”

She smiled, feeling the conversation shifting toward something a little more personal. And then, almost as if it was the next step, Y/N caught herself hesitating, but quickly brushed it off. “Well, if we’re going to plan that, we should probably exchange numbers. You know, in case I want to text you to stop you from taking me to any tourist traps.”

Oscar reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He handed it to her without a second thought.

“Good call,” he said with a teasing grin. “Here you go.”

Y/N took the phone and entered her number, her fingers flying across the screen. She handed it back to him with a smirk. “There. Now you can’t ghost me when I ask for your ‘hidden gem’ suggestions.”

Oscar laughed, saving her number with a nod. “Not planning on ghosting. I’ll make sure you get to see all the cool spots in Monaco.”

Y/N took a sip of her drink, the buzz of the conversation still lingering between them. It felt weirdly easy, and she liked that. “Alright then. It’s a date,” she said with a wink.

“Not sure if it’s a date,” he teased, “but I’ll take it.”

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh, the connection between them feeling a little more real. “Fine, not a date,” she replied, “but when it happens, I’ll hold you to that promise.”

few months timeskip

Over the next few months, Y/N and Oscar settled into an unspoken rhythm. They didn’t see each other often, but when they did, it felt easy. Whether it was quick coffee breaks at the café or a casual text exchange about the best banana bread recipe, they managed to keep in touch.

Oscar, as expected, was always on the move. Y/N had asked him once what he did for work that kept him jet-setting around the world, but his response had been vague. Something about traveling for events and having a packed schedule. She didn’t push for more details, assuming it was some high-level corporate gig or freelance work that required constant relocation. Either way, she didn’t mind. They had their moments, and that was enough for now.

As for Y/N, she had settled into Monaco in a way that felt almost surreal. After a few weeks of relentless job hunting, she’d landed a position at one of the coziest bakeries in the city. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was exactly what she needed—a place to bake, to create, and to lose herself in the comforting scent of fresh bread and pastries.

Her days were now filled with kneading dough, piping frosting, and experimenting with new recipes. The bakery had its quirks, from the slightly eccentric owner who insisted on playing 80s pop music all day to her coworkers who ranged from quiet and reserved to downright chaotic. Somehow, it all worked. Y/N found herself laughing more, learning more, and slowly but surely, calling Monaco home.

Outside of work, Y/N was finally starting to build a life for herself. Some of her coworkers had become fast friends, dragging her out of the kitchen and into the buzzing nightlife Monaco had to offer. From late-night drinks at chic rooftop bars to dancing under neon lights at clubs tucked away in narrow streets, Y/N found herself embracing a side of life she hadn’t tapped into before.

It was one of those rare free days where Y/N could relax and enjoy the slowly warming Monaco weather. The gentle breeze carried in through the slightly cracked window, and the temperature hovered at a perfect 65 degrees—just cool enough to make the indoors cozy but warm enough to remind her that summer was around the corner.

Her kitchen counter was a controlled chaos of melted chocolate, parchment paper, and a vibrant pile of freshly washed strawberries. She’d decided on a whim to make chocolate-covered strawberries—a light, summery treat that felt perfect for the day. At first, it had been fun, methodically dipping each strawberry into the glossy chocolate and adding a drizzle of white chocolate for flair. But somewhere along the way, she’d gotten carried away.

When she stepped back and looked at her work, she let out a soft laugh. “This is... way too many strawberries,” she muttered to herself, shaking her head. She grabbed one and took a bite, the sweetness of the strawberry perfectly balancing the richness of the chocolate.

As she finished the last one, her gaze fell on a smaller bowl she’d unconsciously filled. Without thinking, she began packing it up to bring to Oscar. It had become second nature by now—whenever she baked, she always set some aside for him. But as she made her way to the door, bowl in hand, she paused.

Her mind caught up to her actions, and she froze, staring at the door. “Wait... he’s not even home,” she muttered, groaning softly. Of course, she knew Oscar was traveling. He always was. So why had she automatically prepared something for him like he’d just be next door?

She stared at the bowl, her cheeks burning as the realization hit her. “Oh my god, I miss him,” she whispered to herself, the words making her cringe as they left her lips. She set the bowl down on the counter and groaned louder, pressing her hands against her flushed cheeks.

The thought swirled in her head, undeniable now that it had surfaced. She liked him—more than as just her friendly, quiet neighbor. She liked him in a way that made her heart race and her brain short-circuit.

She groaned again and began pacing the room. “No, no, nope. I am not catching feelings for a guy I barely know,” she muttered. But even as she said it, she knew it wasn’t true. They’d been building something—small moments of connection over the past few months that had left her looking forward to every knock on the door or text message.

With a huff, she grabbed her phone and typed out a quick text:

y/n : when are you coming home??

She hit send before she could overthink it, tossing the phone onto her couch and flopping down beside it. The May breeze drifted in, carrying the scent of spring flowers, but Y/N couldn’t shake the storm of emotions swirling inside her. “This is going to be... complicated,” she muttered to herself, covering her face with her hands.

Y/N’s phone dinged, cutting through her spiraling thoughts. She sat up quickly, snatching the device from where it had landed on the couch. Her heart did a little flip as she saw Oscar’s name pop up on the screen. She unlocked it to read his response:

oscar : I’ll be back in like 2 weeks but only for a bit—what’s up? 👀

She stared at the message, a small smile tugging at her lips. Of course, he’d throw in the eyeball emoji—it was such an Oscar thing to do, always mixing casual with a bit of humor.

For a moment, she debated how to respond. She couldn’t just say, Oh, nothing, I just made too many chocolate-covered strawberries and realized I might like you—that would be mortifying. Instead, she opted for something neutral, a safe middle ground:

y/n : Oh, no reason. Just wondering! Hope it’s not too hectic for you.

As soon as she hit send, she groaned softly, leaning back against the couch. That was a lie, but what else could she say? She put her phone down and rubbed her temples, trying to ignore the sudden burst of warmth in her chest. Two weeks wasn’t that long, right?

Still, the thought lingered in her mind: she’d never been this excited for someone to come home before.

two week timeskip

Two weeks had passed in a blur, the days slipping by faster than Y/N anticipated. The Italian Grand Prix had wrapped up over the weekend, and Monaco was buzzing with excitement for the upcoming race. The city had been transforming in preparation—barricades going up, streets morphing into a circuit, and the harbor becoming a sea of luxury yachts.

Y/N hadn’t seen or heard much from Oscar since his text, but she’d been counting down the days. He’d said he’d be home this week, and while she wasn’t exactly waiting by her door, she had taken it upon herself to have some baked goodies ready. Just in case.

A tray of brownies sat cooling on her counter alongside a tin of lemon cookies, and she was busy wiping down her kitchen counters when a knock echoed through her apartment.

Her first instinct was casual curiosity—probably her neighbor asking to borrow something or the package delivery guy. Without overthinking, she grabbed a towel to dry her hands and headed to the door, opening it mid-yawn.

And there he was.

Oscar stood on the other side, casual as ever in a hoodie and jeans, his hair slightly messy, and a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. His expression was warm, a soft smile playing on his lips as he raised a hand in greeting.

“Hey,” he said, his voice calm, like it hadn’t been two weeks since they last spoke.

Y/N blinked, gripping the door frame for a second. She’d spent days prepping treats for his arrival, imagining this exact moment, and now her brain decided to freeze. “You’re here?” she blurted, as though he wasn’t standing directly in front of her.

His smile widened, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly. “Yeah, I figured I’d drop in unannounced. Hope that’s cool.”

She shook off her surprise, stepping aside to let him in. “Uh, yeah, obviously. Come in!”

Oscar stepped inside, glancing around her apartment like he always did, his eyes eventually landing on the counter full of baked goods. He raised an eyebrow and gestured toward it. “You bake for me, or is this just, like, an everyday thing?”

Y/N felt her cheeks heat up as she quickly shut the door. “I mean... maybe a little of both?” she admitted, rubbing the back of her neck. “I wasn’t sure when you’d show up, so I figured better safe than sorry.”

He laughed, dropping his bag by the couch. “You’re unbelievable. You know that, right?”

“Is that a thank-you?” she teased, crossing her arms with a smirk.

Oscar plucked a cookie off the tray, taking a bite and humming dramatically. “That’s me saying you’re way too nice to me. This is amazing, by the way.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but a smile tugged at her lips anyway. Seeing him standing there, relaxed and happy, filled her with a warmth she didn’t quite know what to do with.

Oscar finished the cookie and grabbed another without asking, leaning casually against her counter like he belonged there. “So, what’ve you been up to? Still baking up a storm every day?”

Y/N smirked, grabbing the tray of brownies and cutting them into perfect squares. “Pretty much. Got to keep the bakery stocked and the bills paid somehow. Plus, it’s Monaco—people are weirdly obsessed with pastries here. Speaking of, how was Italy? Or wherever you were this time?”

Oscar hesitated, his chewing slowing down. “Uh, yeah. Italy was... busy. Lots of... work.”

She raised an eyebrow, catching the slight awkwardness in his tone. “Work? You’re always traveling for this mystery job of yours. You must be a spy or something.”

His laugh came a little too quickly, and he avoided her gaze by grabbing a brownie. “Yeah, something like that. I’d tell you, but then I’d have to... you know.” He made a mock gun gesture with his fingers, winking playfully.

Y/N snorted. “Very convincing. Totally not suspicious at all.”

Changing the subject, Oscar gestured toward the goodies she’d prepared. “You’re going to spoil me, you know that? Showing up with treats, stocking your place with more of them... You’re setting a dangerous precedent.”

“Don’t get used to it,” Y/N teased, nudging him gently as she carried the brownies to a tin for storage. “I only bake extra when I’m bored.”

“Or when you miss me,” he added, grinning mischievously.

Her hands froze for a split second, her cheeks heating up as she quickly turned back to the brownies. “In your dreams,” she muttered, but the way her voice wavered slightly made him chuckle.

Oscar didn’t press further, instead grabbing a glass of water and perching on the armrest of her couch. “So, the monaco grand prix coming up,” he said casually.

“Yeah, the whole city’s already turning into one big construction zone,” Y/N replied, plopping down onto the couch next to him. “Feels like everyone’s losing their minds over it. What’s the big deal? Is it, like, a festival or something?”

Oscar blinked, his lips parting slightly in surprise before quickly recovering. “Uh, yeah, kind of. It’s... a big event. Happens every year.”

She nodded, leaning back into the cushions. “Well, hopefully, it’s not too crazy. Are you staying for it?”

“Yeah, I’ll be around,” he said, a small smile tugging at his lips. “At least for a bit. But it gets hectic, so I might disappear again.”

“Classic Oscar,” Y/N said with a playful roll of her eyes.

“Hey, I’m here now, aren’t I?” he countered, nudging her with his elbow.

“You are,” she admitted, glancing over at him. Their eyes met briefly, and for a second, the air between them felt heavier, like something unspoken lingered just beneath the surface.

Before she could dwell on it, she cleared her throat and stood up. “Anyway, brownies are cooling, cookies are packed, and now you have snacks for however long you’re staying.”

Oscar smirked, leaning back and stretching his arms behind his head. “And here I thought you just liked having me around.”

Y/N grabbed a pillow from the couch and lightly tossed it at him. “Don’t push your luck.”

He caught the pillow effortlessly, laughing. “Fine, fine. But seriously, thanks. It’s nice being back. Even if it’s just for a bit.”

Her smile softened, and she nodded. “Yeah. yeah.”

The evening carried on in easy conversation, the kind of flow Y/N had come to enjoy when Oscar was around. He had a way of making the hours slip by without her even realizing it.

At some point, she found herself sitting cross-legged on the floor while Oscar took up most of the couch, recounting a chaotic story about a “work trip” that involved a delayed flight, a misplaced bag, and someone accidentally ordering 40 sandwiches. He was animated as he spoke, using hand gestures and exaggerated expressions to emphasize every twist and turn.

“So, there I was,” Oscar said, his voice growing serious, “stuck with 40 ham and cheese sandwiches at 3 a.m., wondering if this was some kind of cosmic punishment.”

Y/N burst into laughter, clutching her stomach as tears formed in her eyes. “You’re kidding. Please tell me you ate at least one.”

“Of course, I did,” he replied, grinning. “I ate five. And then I passed out on a bench because there was nowhere else to sit. Absolute rock bottom.”

Y/N shook her head, still laughing. “You live such a weird life. Sandwich catastrophes at 3 a.m. while traveling the world for your super-secret job? Must be exhausting.”

He chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah, it’s a lot sometimes. But I guess I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

There was something in his tone, a fleeting moment of vulnerability that made her pause. She wanted to ask more, to dig deeper, but she hesitated. She didn’t want to ruin the lighthearted mood.

Instead, she grinned and teased, “Well, if you ever need someone to help you through another sandwich crisis, you know where to find me.”

Oscar laughed, tossing a couch cushion at her. “Noted. You’re officially on my emergency sandwich team.”

The sound of their laughter filled the room, and for a while, everything felt easy and uncomplicated.

A little later, after the plates were cleared and the leftovers tucked away, Oscar stood by the door, his duffel bag back in hand.

“Thanks for letting me crash your evening,” he said, leaning casually against the doorframe.

“Crash? Please, I basically invited you the second I opened the door,” Y/N replied, smirking.

He smiled, lingering for a moment. “I’ll see you around, yeah?”

“Yeah,” she said softly, leaning against the doorframe opposite him. “Don’t forget to grab some of the cookies on your way out. And the brownies.”

Oscar raised an eyebrow. “Are you trying to fatten me up or something?”

“Maybe,” she teased. “It’s part of my evil plan.”

He chuckled, reaching out to ruffle her hair before stepping into the hallway. “See you soon, Y/N.”

As the door clicked shut behind him, Y/N stood there for a moment, her heart fluttering in a way she wasn’t quite ready to admit.

The week passed quickly, the anticipation of the Monaco Grand Prix hanging in the air. The city was buzzing with energy, but Y/N kept herself busy at work, focusing on perfecting her recipes and keeping her mind off the person who had quickly become a constant presence in her thoughts.

But no matter how busy she kept, she couldn’t help but wonder when she’d see him again—and if things between them would ever shift into something more.

As the Monaco Grand Prix loomed closer, Y/N found herself noticing the increased buzz around the city. Banners and posters for the event were plastered on every available surface, and crowds started trickling in. Y/N had no idea what all the fuss was about, aside from the fact that everyone seemed excited.

Oscar had been texting her throughout the week, and she’d been looking forward to catching up with him again. She was in the middle of prepping a new batch of pastries when she heard a familiar knock on her door.

“Hey,” she greeted, opening the door to find Oscar standing there, looking casual in a tee and shorts, clearly just back from a training session.

“Hey yourself,” he replied, stepping inside. “How’s it going?”

“Busy as always,” Y/N said, wiping her hands on a towel. “But I’m managing. The bakery’s been crazy with all the tourists. You’d think I was selling gold instead of cookies.”

Oscar chuckled. “Yeah, Monaco gets a little nuts this time of year.” He glanced around, then looked back at her with a grin. “You know, with the Grand Prix coming up, I was thinking—you should totally come with me this weekend. I’ll be around, and I could use some company. I’m pretty sure you’ve never seen anything like it.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, intrigued but not sure what he meant. “The Grand Prix? What is that, like, a huge concert or something?”

Oscar blinked, surprised by her response but quickly recovering. “Uh, no, not really. It’s... um, a big race.”

“A race?” Y/N echoed. “Like cars?”

“Yeah, like super-fast cars,” Oscar explained, trying not to laugh. “Formula 1 cars. It’s kind of a big deal around here.”

Y/N’s eyes widened slightly. “Wait, so this race is happening in the city?”

“Yep,” he said, nodding. “And it’s one of the biggest races of the season. You should come check it out. It’s a whole experience.”

She hesitated for a moment, trying to process the idea. “I mean, sure, why not? I could use a little break from the bakery chaos. But I’m warning you, I’ll probably get lost in the crowd or something.”

Oscar grinned, clearly pleased. “I’ve got you covered. You won’t get lost, I promise. Plus, I’ll introduce you to a few people, show you the ropes. It’ll be fun.”

Y/N smiled, feeling a little bit nervous but mostly excited. “Okay, okay. I’m in. This better be worth it though. I still don’t quite get why people are so obsessed with fast cars but... I’m trusting you on this one.”

Oscar laughed. “Don’t worry, you’ll get it once you see it. It’s kind of... a big deal.”

Y/N chuckled along with him. “Alright, Mr. Big Deal. I’ll be there. Just try not to get too race car driver on me while I’m there, okay?”

Oscar flashed her a teasing grin. “No promises.”

grand prix weekend

As Y/N walked toward the spot where she and Oscar had agreed to meet, her eyes wandered over the bustling atmosphere of the Monaco Grand Prix. The crowds, the cameras, the fancy cars, and the buzz of excitement around every corner... it was a lot to take in. But then her gaze landed on something that made her stop in her tracks.

A massive banner stretched across the track, featuring none other than Oscar Piastri. His face was larger than life, his cool expression and trademark cap making him look effortlessly slick.

Y/N blinked twice, then rubbed her eyes to make sure she wasn’t seeing things. But there it was, Oscar in full glory, with the words "Oscar Piastri: Formula 1 Driver" plastered across the banner in bold letters. The realization hit her like a ton of bricks, and she felt her stomach drop.

She stared at it, mouth slightly open, her brain short-circuiting as the pieces finally clicked together. “Wait… Oscar? Formula 1? That Oscar?” She repeated the words in her head like a mantra, trying to wrap her brain around it.

Her eyes darted from the banner to the people around her, and suddenly everything clicked in a dizzying rush:

Oscar Piastri... was a famous Formula 1 driver.

That meant—wait, no—that meant she had been casually baking cookies, banana muffins, and chocolate-covered strawberries for someone who was literally famous?! She had been living next door to a real-life celebrity and hadn’t even known it?? And… she was actually crushing on him?

Her mind was doing a full-on loop-de-loop. How had she missed this? How did she not realize that this guy who always wore cool clothes, who was constantly traveling, who had fans… was the same person she’d been baking for like it was no big deal? Was this… was this a dream?

She started internally panicking. What do I do now? She had been baking for a guy who was in the public eye—what did that even mean for them? Did she just like someone who everyone else liked too? Is that even a thing? Was she seriously living next door to someone who raced for real in Formula 1?! She was losing it.

At that moment, she felt like she might spontaneously combust from the sheer ridiculousness of it all. Her stomach flipped, and she had to press a hand to her forehead, trying to keep it together. “Oh my god, Y/N. Get it together,” she whispered under her breath.

Just as she was trying to regain her composure, she spotted Oscar coming into view, looking effortlessly cool as usual, his sunglasses perched atop his head as he walked toward her. His face broke into a grin when he saw her.

“Hey, you okay?” Oscar asked, noticing the slightly shell-shocked look on her face. “You look like you just saw a ghost.”

Y/N blinked a few times, forcing herself to smile, but her mind was still reeling. She barely managed to get out a normal response. “Yeah, I’m fine,” she said, her voice a little too high-pitched for her own liking. “Just… uh, just saw something… interesting.”

Oscar raised an eyebrow, looking at her with mild curiosity. “Interesting? What did you see?”

Y/N panicked for a second. She couldn’t tell him she just discovered he was basically famous and was now spiraling over it, right? She gave herself a quick mental shake. “Uh, yeah, just, uh, a banner,” she said, gesturing vaguely toward the giant image of him from earlier. “And, um… I just realized that… I, uh, live next to someone famous. Which is, like… wild.”

Oscar blinked, clearly not expecting that response. “Ohhh, yeah, that’s a thing. I mean, you’ve been living next to a race car driver. That’s gotta be weird, huh?”

Weird didn’t even begin to cover it, but Y/N just laughed, even though it sounded a little forced. “I guess? It’s just... a lot to process. You really are famous, huh?”

Oscar chuckled at her expression, clearly amused. “You could’ve asked, you know. But yeah, I guess I am,” he said casually, as if being on giant banners was just part of his daily routine.

Y/N groaned, feeling a rush of heat on her cheeks. “I feel like such an idiot,” she muttered, half to herself.

Oscar laughed, clearly oblivious to the full extent of her internal freakout. “Nah, you’re good. I’m just glad you’re here. Let’s enjoy this whole thing together.”

But Y/N could barely focus on anything except the fact that she had been baking for someone famous. This was too much.

As they continued toward the track, Y/N’s thoughts swirled in a thousand directions. She liked him, but now she had to figure out how to deal with the fact that she liked someone who was literally in the spotlight. Was it even okay to have a crush on someone who had so many eyes on him? She didn’t even know what to do with that knowledge yet.

And as they entered the paddock, Y/N had a feeling this weekend was going to be a lot more intense than she ever expected.

Y/N had barely been able to wrap her head around the fact that she was actually sitting in the heart of the action—inside Oscar’s team’s box in the garage, watching the practice and qualifying sessions unfold in front of her eyes.

Oscar had been in and out, prepping for his runs, chatting with the team, and making sure everything was in top condition. He had that natural, focused energy about him, and it was hard to look at him without being amazed by how effortlessly cool he was under pressure.

Y/N, on the other hand, was absolutely blown away by everything. The speed of the cars, the noise, the sheer intensity of it all—it was like nothing she had ever experienced. The walls of the garage were lined with equipment, the hum of activity filled the air, and people were buzzing about with headsets and clipboards, all focused on their roles. But even with all the chaos, Y/N's attention kept drifting back to Oscar.

“Don’t worry, I won’t crash,” he joked, noticing the look on her face as he grabbed his helmet and prepared to head out.

Y/N managed a nervous laugh, trying to calm the fluttering feeling in her chest. “You better not,” she teased, though she was pretty sure it was more for her own peace of mind than anything else.

Oscar shot her a grin before heading out to the car, and Y/N couldn’t help but watch with wide eyes as he slipped into the cockpit. The cars revved to life, the unmistakable sound of the engines vibrating through the garage. Oscar’s car was a blur as he took off down the track for his first practice lap.

She couldn’t help but feel a weird mix of awe and pride. That’s Oscar, she thought, barely able to keep her jaw from dropping. He was out there on the track, racing like it was second nature. The guy who had been chilling in her kitchen, eating cookies, was now doing something so epic, it didn’t even seem real.

As Oscar tore through the circuit, Y/N’s eyes stayed glued to the monitors in the box. His lap times popped up in front of her, and she felt a nervous, excited energy pulse through her. She didn’t know much about Formula 1, but she could feel the intensity of it all.

“Look at him go,” she muttered to herself, completely captivated by the raw speed and precision. It was like watching someone glide on air—only way faster, and way more intense.

The minutes flew by, and soon enough, Oscar’s car zipped back into the pits, and he jumped out, helmet off, a grin on his face. Y/N couldn’t help but smile back, her heart racing in sync with the adrenaline of the day.

“You’re amazing,” she said as he walked over, still catching his breath from the run.

Oscar gave a modest shrug, though the grin never left his face. “It’s all in the details,” he said with a wink. “But, yeah, it feels pretty good.”

Y/N shook her head, still processing how cool the whole thing was. “You’re insane,” she laughed, feeling a mix of admiration and a bit of disbelief at the whole experience.

Oscar leaned against the garage wall, looking at her. “You’ve got the best seat in the house, you know?”

She smiled, feeling her chest tighten at the compliment. “Yeah, I can’t believe I’m actually here. It’s… it’s all a bit much, honestly.”

Oscar chuckled. “Well, get used to it. You’ll be seeing a lot more of this.”

Y/N just nodded, still wide-eyed. There was so much she was still processing—how she’d gone from living next to a normal guy to sitting in a garage at the Monaco Grand Prix watching him race. It was wild. And somehow, incredibly thrilling.

Then, without any warning, Oscar took a small step closer to her. The next thing Y/N knew, his hand was on her cheek, pulling her into a kiss that was both unexpected and electric.

She froze for a split second, her eyes wide in shock. Her heart pounded in her ears. It was quick, but it was enough to send a wave of dizziness through her. The kiss was soft, lingering just a moment longer than she could’ve imagined, before Oscar pulled back with a mischievous smile.

Y/N stood there, stunned. Her heart was racing, and her mind was reeling. The cameras around the garage had caught the whole thing, and within seconds, a replay flashed across the monitors, broadcasting the moment live for all to see.

Oscar’s grin widened, clearly aware of the reaction. “Guess I’m full of surprises,” he teased, his voice low, his eyes never leaving hers.

Y/N blinked, still processing what just happened. Her cheeks were burning. “What the—”

But before Y/N could say anything else, Oscar's grin grew wider as he looked up at the screen. "Well, that's gonna be on TV now, huh?"

Y/N's eyes snapped to the monitors, and her stomach dropped. The kiss, clear as day, was playing across the screens for everyone to see. Her face turned beet red.

"Seriously?" Y/N muttered, still trying to process it. "That just... happened. On TV. Wow."

Oscar chuckled, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Well, that’s out there now. You good with that?”

Before Y/N could answer, she leaned in, surprising him with a kiss. It was quick but full of impulse, a way to make things feel less chaotic and more... real. When she pulled away, she didn’t flinch or apologize—she just gave him a small grin.

Oscar blinked in surprise for a moment, his lips curling into a grin. “Guess you weren’t planning on waiting, huh?”

Y/N shrugged casually, unfazed. “Guess not.”

Oscar let out a low laugh, his eyes never leaving hers. “No going back now.”

Y/N shook her head, a smirk tugging at her lips. "Guess not."

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

taglist : @heluvsjappie @awritingtree @steamy-smokey @alex-wotton @ssarqhxo @rainy-darling @mymilkshakefun @hs2016 @linnygirl09 @akulici

[mymegrokosmos]

hi, could i request a tbz reaction to their s/o being cold? i love your writings btw, tysm!!

ah tysm anon! i'm glad you enjoy! 💜 please let me know if i understood this correctly. my brain is in autumn mode rn so this went a little halloweeny if you squint, i hope that's okay.

bf the boyz reactions when you're cold ❄️

sangyeon will tease you a little bit, just bc he can and he finds it cute when you pout back at him, but will ultimately be a gentleman. slips an arm around your shoulders and tugs you against his side, other hand rubbing your thigh or back as he lets you snuggle in close and steal his body heat. if you make those big doe eyes at him he'll also make you a cup of your favourite hot drink and let you borrow one of his sweaters while you settle in to watch your favourite spooky show together.

jacob is such a sweetheart. he's immediately asking if you need anything and pulling you close. he might be laughing just a little bit but quickly relents when you slide your cold hands under his shirt and splay them on his stomach or back. yelps and insists on wrapping you both in a big fluffy blanket until you warm up. he is so not at happy for the excuse to cuddle you nope that's definitely not it at all.

younghoon is already curled up in his coziest sweater and clinging onto you like your body heat is going to save you both. will suggest a hot bath together or a blanket fort (in bed or on the sofa, whichever you prefer) bc cuddles are always warm right? you end up with candles lit, soft music playing and matching sweatsuits on as you bake cookies together and snuggle up in your fort to make the most of the rainy evening watching your favourite animated films together.

hyunjae is a human space heater. the minute you start shivering he is poking fun and laughing at your whining while you cling to him. secretly loves it please never stop treating him like your very own personal heated blanket. will sulk and complain if you wrap yourself in a blanket or steal a hoodie to keep you warm bc he is literally right there what do you mean you don't want him wrapped around you like a spidermonkey while you go about your daily tasks?

juyeon is already bundling you into matching oversized sweaters bc if he is cold then so are you, guaranteed. back hugging you while you make you both something warm to eat, hands in the front pockets of your jumper and chin on shoulder. nuzzles his nose or cheek against yours while he talks to you as you cook, watching every step and going to grab anything that's out of your reach but not staying away from you too long. definitely sways with you and hums, sliding cold fingers under the hem of your shirt while you're trying to focus bc let's be real he has to be a little bit of a menace.

kevin will absolutely make you repeat yourself 6 times with the biggest smile on your face before he gives in and helps. cue 'i'm sorry love, what was that? can you say it again baby?'. playful but the minute he sees you're actually cold is wrapping you in the fluffiest blanket and bundling you into the kitchen to make you both cups of hot cocoa. keeps rubbing your arms and pressing little butterfly kisses to your nose and cheeks, mumbling about how frozen you are and probably singing the soundtrack just bc that's how his brain works. will 100% run you a hot bath and lay out some of his clothes fresh out of a quick tumble around in the dryer for you to wear.

chanhee will already have coordinating cozy outfits laid out on the radiator warming up for both of you to change into. let's be real this man already has negative body heat, he has none to share with you so he's an expert at tricks for keeping warm. probably has hot packs hidden away all over your apartment just for these kinds of scenarios. he's running the hottest bath possible with your favourite scented soaps and bubbles he's determined to make this a luxurious experience okay and is queuing up your favourite show to watch together while you soak. you will find yourself snuggled into a blanket cocoon in bed afterwards with takeout and snacks littered around. warming up is a very serious activity and chanhee won't spare anything to make sure you're both content and comfortable. and also looking cute in matching pyjama sets while you do it. he's probably made it a couple skincare day since you're laying around anyway.

changmin doesn't hesitate to pull you into his arms, already laughing and teasing you with a big smile on his face. he only razzes you a little, pressing a kiss to your forehead and taking your hands in both of his to rub some warmth into them. will absolutely wear his biggest sweater and insist on sharing so you both end up squished into it, you settled on his lap while he rubs your thigh with one hand and keeps you pressed close with the other. probably blinks at you and innocently suggests kisses will warm you up not just bc he wants some ofc. you will end up with a mug of hot cider, tea or hot chocolate snuggled up on the sofa watching scary movies until he deems you warm enough which honestly will be never bc he is not letting you go you're stuck in his arms for the rest of the night now good luck.

haknyeon probably already turning on the fireplace/heating and bringing you one of his jumpers to snuggle up in. this man is a sweetheart so he definitely makes you a hot beverage but will make little comments every time he walks past and tease you if you complain. despite that sits beside you and pats his lap for you to put your feet up, slipping on some warm socks and rubbing your calves. sits pressed close so you can steal his body heat, thumb stroking your ankle and throw blanket from the back of the sofa draped over your shoulders. he just wants you to be as comfy and cozy as possible at all times honestly.

sunwoo already has the blanket fort started. you are absolutely wearing his sweats and hoodie. he zipped you into them. pouts if you don't drop whatever you're doing to come cuddle under the blankets with him even though he definitely screeches when your cold hands or feet come into contact with his skin. asks you how you got this cold like it's somehow your fault your extremities are blocks of ice and yaps about how you should take better care of yourself so he doesn't come home to you frozen one day. will look into how to improve poor blood circulation and stock up on home remedies & items the internet tells him help. won't tell you about it but the next time you complain about being cold or he catches you shivering you can bet your boyfriend is prepared. beyond prepared. and very proud of himself about it.

eric takes a minute to notice you shivering, caught up in arguing with sunwoo over the video game they're currently losing. once he does he's quick to pause and get you a sweater, make you something hot to drink and order some warm food for you both. fighting with his friends can wait, the teasing will be worth it later, his priority is making sure you get warm. another one who makes a pile of blankets and uses cuddling up with you as an excuse to watch ghibli movies or his favourite anime since you need his body heat and can't escape. somehow falls asleep like fifteen minutes in with his head on your chest, arms still wrapped around your waist and your hands in his hair. yeah that's baby your honour he was probably talking your ear off right up until he zonked out on you. at least he's cute pls let him get away with it he just wanted to make sure you didn't turn into an ice cube. he means well and loves you very much. he's just a big soft puppy really.

[gurokichi]

there's something perfectly fantastical in the idea of taking you away with me, isolating you from society and anyone else who would even think of looking at you. would that not be a perfect world? you and i, away from any prying eyes, free to live out our dreams and desires. they'd be no one to take me away from you, or distract me. my eyes would only be on you, and vice versa. i wouldn't have to ever worry about you paying attention to someone else. we would be enough and more for each other. you'd be the perfect doll for me to use and love. during the day, we'd go outside, look at the lovely plants and animals and flowers. at night, we'd come back to our cozy little house. i'd carve out lovely flowers and patterns into your back, and cut out a little piece of your spine to use as room decor. (it wouldn't paralyse you, because this is the ideal world.) and then we could give each other matching bruises. is there anything that sounds better than that? it'd be our way of marking each other. my claim over you, imparted into your flesh. you'd wear a collar with my name on it, and you'd never have to worry about anything or think again, just follow me around and continue looking pretty. dolls aren't very well known for their thinking skills, after all. we could make flower crowns for each other, and have tea together every day on our patio. (because we have one.) you could bake a different confection for me every day, and i'd cook for us. we'd sleep together on a nice bed with a cute bedspread and dream about each other at night too, because do we really need anyone else, even in our sleep? we'd be content and happy together, forever. is it selfish of me to squander you away, keep you all for me? i don't think i care very much. as long as you're with me, could i need anything else?

-👤

ERIS THIS WAS SO CUTE… I read this so many times ahdjshdjsgdj（≧∇≦）

That does sound like a perfect world!! I think that we'd be very happy together, far away from everyone else! We should have a garden... we could grow our own food and very pretty plants. And lets keep lots of cute animals as our pets! Take any adorable ones we find out on our walk back home 😇 WE SHOULD ALSO HAVE A LIBRARY FOR YOU!! Cause you love reading!! Maybe you could read to me, ehehe. At night, we could spend some time stargazing before heading in... I love space. We should get a telescope too!! And maybe in our perfect world, you could see Mars with the telescope, and it'd be pink. You know what flower I'd want carved into me? Lily of the Valley, they are gorgeous!!! I'm gonna get a bunch for our Minecraft house. And I'm gonna make us the coziest Minecraft house ever because of this. Do you have a favorite flower that's in Minecraft? I wanna collect that too. Anyway, back on topic, is there a flower that you'd want carved into you? I think it'd be cute to both have flowers. And bruises. You have such great ideas. ALSO THE COLLAR... NEED. I'd trail after you everywhere if I could! I actually don't know how to make a flower crown, you'd have to teach me, but I do know how to make daisy chains. Tea parties every day, yippee!! I'd love being able to bake for you. I'd make you the yummiest treats ever, trust. As for dreaming about each other, I'd much prefer the real Eris over the dream Eris! Dream Eris could never compare to you. I don't think it's selfish, and this sounds like a lovely way to live <3

[carnavalesque]

♡ 𝒏𝒂𝒓𝒊 𝒘𝒉𝒐 tends to spend her whole free time in her bedroom, especially in her bed, and who decided on a white paint on her walls for when her days are too dark and she needs a little bit of light.

♡ 𝒏𝒂𝒓𝒊 𝒘𝒉𝒐 used to hate the idea of not having a bath because it was related to her leg injury, but is now grateful to have a shower, because that way it is easier for her to take her showers with Cordelia.

♡ 𝒏𝒂𝒓𝒊 𝒘𝒉𝒐 never really cared about her interior design before, letting her mom choose everything for her, before buying the ugliest blanket ever to show her rebellious side. it's her favorite blanket now.

♡ 𝒃𝒐𝒏𝒖𝒔 : 𝒏𝒂𝒓𝒊 𝒘𝒉𝒐 always argued that her appartment was ideal for the lifestyle she wanted to have but never realized how much it was arranged by her parents before Cordelia came to live with her. she now takes pride in having Cordelia's pictures on the walls everywhere instead of her own achievements.

♡ 𝒉𝒚𝒖𝒏𝒔𝒖 𝒘𝒉𝒐 never really paid attention to the way he should design his room because he never really had anything else than a bed, but started to pay more attention once Violet told him about how energies could be different if he changed just one or two furnitures. he even bought plants to please her.

♡ 𝒉𝒚𝒖𝒏𝒔𝒖 𝒘𝒉𝒐 use to spend his whole time in the living room, because he couldn't deal with the loneliness anymore and felt like spending time with Gabriel, probably more than necessary.

♡ 𝒉𝒚𝒖𝒏𝒔𝒖 𝒘𝒉𝒐 finds real comfort in the bar, even if sometimes the lights are a bit agressive on his eyes. as bad as it sounds, he keeps calling it home.

♡ 𝒃𝒐𝒏𝒖𝒔 : 𝒉𝒚𝒖𝒏𝒔𝒖 𝒘𝒉𝒐 knew early on he couldn't deal with potentially living alone, but never had to face that - instead, he started to live with Tayden after he moved out, and it's the first time he started to really invest in furnitures to create a real home, just for the two of them.

♡ 𝒚𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒎 𝒘𝒉𝒐 hated the bedroom she had when she lived with Han-Ju so much that she just started to overcompensate in her own bedroom now, making it what Min-Ah called "the coziest place on Earth."

♡ 𝒚𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒎 𝒘𝒉𝒐 spends her evening in her couch, especially after her therapy sessions, and who became quickly a fan of watching dumb tv shows while binge-eating, an habit she'll keep on doing when living with Ujin.

♡ 𝒚𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒎 𝒘𝒉𝒐 likes to spend time in her kitchen, even if she's not the greatest cook ever. it's something she likes to share with Ujin, and she does not shy away from the fact that her greatest moments with him are spent there.

♡ 𝒃𝒐𝒏𝒖𝒔 : 𝒚𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒎 𝒘𝒉𝒐 likes being home for she can just exist for herself. she also likes the freedom Ujin provides for her, and in return, she makes sure to let him come home to a warm house, with always a meal on the table.

♡ 𝒎𝒊𝒏-𝒂𝒉 𝒘𝒉𝒐 is used to share a room with her siblings and had trouble adjusting to have a room for herself - therefore, her first purchase was a huge bed, where she could always sleep with somebody else if she felt the need to.

♡ 𝒎𝒊𝒏-𝒂𝒉 𝒘𝒉𝒐 has an incessant need to buy stuff, just to organize them properly in her house. she impulsively bought dozens of plants, or ornements, because she felt like it was her role to make her place prettier for when people visit.

♡ 𝒎𝒊𝒏-𝒂𝒉 𝒘𝒉𝒐 spends more time in the bar than at the apartment, and while people think it's because she's dedicated to her job, it's mostly because it's the only place she's assured to see her whole family at the same time. she therefore tends to overwork herself.

♡ 𝒃𝒐𝒏𝒖𝒔 : 𝒎𝒊𝒏-𝒂𝒉 𝒘𝒉𝒐 is already quite used to spend her whole time with Sulli, and yet has issues separating from him. she'll insist to have her bed moved to their house, just so she could spend time with him there.

♡ 𝒓𝒆𝒊 𝒘𝒉𝒐 used to have the minimum in her room, and was used to be content with virtually nothing. she was not allowed anything else than books and she couldn't have any decorations on her walls.

♡ 𝒓𝒆𝒊 𝒘𝒉𝒐 used to seek shelter in the little cabin they've made in their grandparents house, with Renata, when she was six. even now, it's the place where it's most likely to find her when she goes missing. she calls it her safe haven.

♡ 𝒓𝒆𝒊 𝒘𝒉𝒐 is often at the bar, even if she stands in the shadow, most of the time. she likes to distance herself from other, and is satisfied with watching them live their lives.

♡ 𝒃𝒐𝒏𝒖𝒔 : 𝒓𝒆𝒊 𝒘𝒉𝒐 is startled everytime Gabriel buys something for her, and does not know how to deal with material things. she keeps them safely in her closet, where she knows no one can take them away from her.

♡ 𝒋𝒖𝒏𝒔𝒆𝒐 𝒘𝒉𝒐 thought out every detail of his bedroom, to the point it felt too neutral at times. he likes that it's not too personal, because his entire apartment is, and his bedroom is a place where he can stop his thoughts.

♡ 𝒋𝒖𝒏𝒔𝒆𝒐 𝒘𝒉𝒐 absolutely wanted to have his own art studio, somewhere in his flat, and therefore wanted to have a guest room. while he does paint in the guest room, he made sure to have a couch, so the girls could sleep there if they ever need too.

♡ 𝒋𝒖𝒏𝒔𝒆𝒐 𝒘𝒉𝒐 is almost always at the pool table whenever he's at the bar. his laughs can always be heard, because he's always playing with Sam, and even if it bothers other people, it's there he shared some of his favorite moments with the boy.

♡ 𝒃𝒐𝒏𝒖𝒔 : 𝒋𝒖𝒏𝒔𝒆𝒐 𝒘𝒉𝒐 cannot stop painting Bambi, because he feels he can never do her beauty justice. it got to the point where it's not unusual to find sketches of her in the most random places of the apartment. he also painted them after their first real date.

♡ 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒎 𝒘𝒉𝒐 was helpless the first time he had a room for himself, where he could decide how he wanted it to be. he was so lost that it became a cluster of broken pieces and fabrics he could find practically everywhere. he also has little lights above his bed, to mimic the stars in the sky.

♡ 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒎 𝒘𝒉𝒐 always hated how cold his parents' house felt like, with no sense of familiarity whatsoever. he now dislikes huge spaces, for it leaves little to nothing for intimacy, and appreciates smaller spaces more.

♡ 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒎 𝒘𝒉𝒐, once installed in Seoul, tried to join the orchestra, failing miserably - he was good, but not that good. he likes to go there, though, to be able to just sit down, and listen to music, peacefully.

♡ 𝒃𝒐𝒏𝒖𝒔 : 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒎 𝒘𝒉𝒐 tries to provide as much comfort for Sam as he can, trying to make amends for his past mistakes. it shows in the way he hugs him to sleep, or in a way he always has something to give to him in return of his love.

♡ 𝒗𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒆𝒕 𝒘𝒉𝒐 has the lightest room out of everyone, because she does not stand to be in the dark at all. she also has a night light, in case Minsu stays over.

♡ 𝒗𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒆𝒕 𝒘𝒉𝒐 is the one spending the most time in the kitchen, whether it's to cook for Minsu, or for his brother; she entirely redecorated it, and even threw out some of Gabriel's stuff, much to his dismay.

♡ 𝒗𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒆𝒕 𝒘𝒉𝒐 spends her free time at the aquarium, to the point where the guards know her name. one time, she felt so comfortable watching the seahorses she actually fell asleep in the aquarium.

♡ 𝒃𝒐𝒏𝒖𝒔 : 𝒗𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒆𝒕 𝒘𝒉𝒐 will argue with anyone that her favorite place in the apartment is her couch - truth is, it's because she likes to lie there with Minsu, and just be able to run her hands through his hair, appeasing her anxiety.

♡ 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒋𝒂𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒐 never really cared about his bedroom at all - it just has a bed so he can sleep in it, but he never really paid attention to the fact that it looked like a basic motel room.

♡ 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒋𝒂𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒐 paid a little more attention to his living room, though, because he likes to please Delilah, even if she mocks him time after time for his flat very much look like a single man one's.

♡ 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒋𝒂𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒐 his shockingly enough often at the bar, more than some of the other members. it's partially for Delilah, but also because he feels better knowing everyone is safe there. it's also because he has an ongoing bet with Junseo to know when Sam is going to embarrass himself in front of Kinam.

♡ 𝒃𝒐𝒏𝒖𝒔 : 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒋𝒂𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒐 let Delilah redecorate their entire place, accepting any of her ideas to make her happy. he did draw the line at the most horrible leopard blanket she wanted to buy for their bed.

♡ 𝒋𝒂𝒅𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒐 always insisted on having a bedroom with a great view on the city. she likes to be awaken by the morning light, and she likes even more to be able to watch all the people in the street going on with their lives.

♡ 𝒋𝒂𝒅𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒐 tried to always recreate the perfect cozy home she had in her head, because all she knew was the orphanage. while it's heavily decorated with plants, she made sure that it's all plants that won't die because she's bad at taking care of them.

♡ 𝒋𝒂𝒅𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒐 oddly enough likes the smell of the hospital - most people feel it's too weird, or too sanitized, but Jade feels right at home there, where she's the most important.

♡ 𝒃𝒐𝒏𝒖𝒔 : 𝒋𝒂𝒅𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒐 always collected stuff for Kyungsu at her flat. she has a huge collection of mugs for him, a spare toothbrush, and clothes for him to sleep with when he stays over.

♡ 𝒊𝒔𝒆𝒖𝒍 𝒘𝒉𝒐 likes to have a feminine touch in her bedroom, because it reminds her of when she was younger, and did not have a care in the world. it's the most decorated room of her flat shared with her brother.

♡ 𝒊𝒔𝒆𝒖𝒍 𝒘𝒉𝒐 absolutely hates the bar where his brother works, that he made the headquarters for halazia, and she always complains about how the rotten wood smells so bad it impregnates her clothes and hair.

♡ 𝒊𝒔𝒆𝒖𝒍 𝒘𝒉𝒐 always liked to go on walks in the park near her apartment, just for the fun of it. she likes to sit on benches, and just observes people, trying to imagine their lives in the process.

♡ 𝒃𝒐𝒏𝒖𝒔 : 𝒊𝒔𝒆𝒖𝒍 𝒘𝒉𝒐 got so used to spend her time with Kaz, even in secret, that she has issues separating from him now. she's also used to play wife for him, always making him breakfast in the morning, and cooking for him in the evening.

♡ 𝒆𝒖𝒏𝒘𝒐𝒐 𝒘𝒉𝒐 even when he finally has is own room, in his apartment, is not used to people not barging in. he likes to sleep the closest to the wall, and the furthest from the door, just in case someone comes in.

♡ 𝒆𝒖𝒏𝒘𝒐𝒐 𝒘𝒉𝒐 was so used to the motel room walls he could actually describe with precision every cracks in the paint. he never slept on the bed there, being used to the harsh feeling of the rug underneath his back.

♡ 𝒆𝒖𝒏𝒘𝒐𝒐 𝒘𝒉𝒐 spent most of his free time on the roof with Sun, outside the motel. it was his safe place, most of the time, where he could let go of the pressure.

♡ 𝒃𝒐𝒏𝒖𝒔 : 𝒆𝒖𝒏𝒘𝒐𝒐 𝒘𝒉𝒐 is still learning how to behave normally, thanks to Hyun-Ki. he's still not entirely used to spend nights next to someone, but it's sometimes difficult for him to detach himself from his gentle giant.

♡ 𝒔𝒆𝒖𝒏𝒈 𝒘𝒉𝒐 is obsessive with his cleaning, especially in his bedroom, with Sunny's hairs getting everywhere. it's the reason he always regretted buying a carpet in the first place.

♡ 𝒔𝒆𝒖𝒏𝒈 𝒘𝒉𝒐 despite everything also has a carpet in his living room, which also very much collects Sunny's hairs. it's the only fancy decoration he has, for he's not a fan of doing too much in terms of decorations.

♡ 𝒔𝒆𝒖𝒏𝒈 𝒘𝒉𝒐 feels quite safe in the hospital corridors, and finds comfort in the fact that everything is particulary clean, and very much unpersonal.

♡ 𝒃𝒐𝒏𝒖𝒔 : 𝒔𝒆𝒖𝒏𝒈 𝒘𝒉𝒐, despite the fact that he's not a fan of decoring his room that much, will start to make efforts on that for Maggie. his first purchase in their appartment will be a record player, in memory of their long arguments about music.

♡ 𝒋𝒊𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒐 didn't know what he wanted to do with his bedroom, for he never was supposed to make decisions for his own, and made it very unpleasing to the eyes, to the point his best friend had to intervene and decorate it for him.

♡ 𝒋𝒊𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒐 spends most of his time in the couch, trying to catch up on everything he's been missing out in his life. while it's old-dated, he has now an insane dvd collection, and he takes pride in it.

♡ 𝒋𝒊𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒐 sometimes doesn't like to be in his own place all alone, especially when anxiety kicks in, and will always find comfort in Hee's place, even if it's on campus, for his best friend has, in his words, the greatest bed ever made on Earth. most of the times, he's found napping on his bed.

♡ 𝒃𝒐𝒏𝒖𝒔 : 𝒋𝒊𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒐 looks always marveled whenever Renata makes him listen to a new artist, or show him a new movie, to the point he'll make it his new personality for a week, and will buy posters of every artist she introduces him to.

[gloriabomfim]

Certainly, let's explore how Phoenix, the cockroach with fire powers, mistakenly takes fire for a house in 9 montages with titles, thinking mistakes, actions, and dialogue transcripts:

Montage 1: The Fiery Welcome Title: A Blazing Misunderstanding

Thinking Mistake: Phoenix sees a distant blaze and believes it's a house.

Action: Phoenix excitedly flies toward the fire.

Phoenix (thinking aloud): "Oh, I see a cozy house over there!"

Montage 2: Getting Closer to the Flames Title: The Heat of the Moment

Thinking Mistake: Phoenix approaches the fire, thinking it's a home.

Action: Phoenix gets closer, feeling the intense heat.

Phoenix (with anticipation): "It must be warm inside!"

Montage 3: Attempting Entry Title: Knocking on Fire's Door

Thinking Mistake: Phoenix believes the flames are a welcoming doorway.

Action: Phoenix touches the fire cautiously.

Phoenix (surprised): "Hmm, the door feels hot!"

Montage 4: Misguided Conversation Title: Chatting with the Inferno

Thinking Mistake: Phoenix tries to communicate with the fire.

Action: Phoenix speaks to the flames.

Phoenix (confused): "Is anyone home in there?"

Montage 5: Flaming Furniture? Title: Fire-Furnished Dreams

Thinking Mistake: Phoenix thinks he sees fire-based furniture.

Action: Phoenix imagines sitting on a flaming chair.

Phoenix (delighted): "This house has unique furniture!"

Montage 6: Cooking Mishap Title: Flame-Grilled Dinner Plans

Thinking Mistake: Phoenix attempts to cook inside the "house."

Action: Phoenix puts some food on the fire.

Phoenix (hungry): "Time to make dinner!"

Montage 7: A Burning Realization Title: Fire-Forged Insight

Thinking Mistake: Phoenix finally realizes the fire isn't a house.

Action: Phoenix jumps back, startled.

Phoenix (embarrassed): "Oops! This isn't a house at all!"

Montage 8: Apologizing to the Flames Title: Flames of Forgiveness

Thinking Mistake: Phoenix apologizes to the fire.

Action: Phoenix speaks apologetically to the flames.

Phoenix (apologetic): "Sorry for the confusion, fire."

Montage 9: Returning Home Title: The Return to Reality

Thinking Mistake: Phoenix heads back, looking for his real home.

Action: Phoenix flies away from the fire.

Phoenix (reflective): "Time to find my real house now."

These montages showcase Phoenix's amusing misunderstanding as he mistakes fire for a house and his eventual realization of the true nature of the flames.

Of course, let's continue with the next set of 10 montages where Phoenix mistakes the fire for the house:

Montage 10: Fire-Themed Decor Title: Fiery Home Decor

Thinking Mistake: Phoenix thinks the flames are artistic decorations.

Action: Phoenix examines the flames closely.

Phoenix (amused): "This house has some interesting decor!"

Montage 11: Toasty Accommodations Title: The Coziest Flame Bed

Thinking Mistake: Phoenix believes the fire is a comfortable bed.

Action: Phoenix attempts to lie down in the fire.

Phoenix (surprised): "This bed is a bit too warm!"

Montage 12: Inviting Friends Over Title: Party at the 'Fire House'

Thinking Mistake: Phoenix invites his friends to the fire.

Action: Phoenix calls out to his friends.

Phoenix (excited): "Hey, everyone, come to my new 'fire house'!"

Montage 13: A Sizzling Conversation Title: Talking to the Fire's 'Residents'

Thinking Mistake: Phoenix believes he's having a chat with fire beings.

Action: Phoenix continues talking to the flames.

Phoenix (conversational): "What's life like in the fire house?"

Montage 14: Fire-Cooked Meals Title: A Unique Cooking Experience

Thinking Mistake: Phoenix tries to cook meals with the fire.

Action: Phoenix roasts food in the flames.

Phoenix (enthusiastic): "This kitchen is quite hot, but fun!"

Montage 15: Firey Furnace Relaxation Title: The Perfect Sauna

Thinking Mistake: Phoenix thinks he's in a sauna.

Action: Phoenix enjoys the heat.

Phoenix (relaxed): "This 'sauna' is incredibly warm!"

Montage 16: Confused Housewarming Party Title: A Warm Welcome

Thinking Mistake: Phoenix believes he's hosting a housewarming party.

Action: Phoenix serves imaginary guests.

Phoenix (welcoming): "Welcome to my fire-themed housewarming!"

Montage 17: Fireplace Gathering Title: Gathering 'Around' the Fire

Thinking Mistake: Phoenix assumes he's sitting by the fireplace.

Action: Phoenix sits beside the flames.

Phoenix (content): "Let's tell stories by the 'fireplace.'"

Montage 18: A Flaming Light Bulb Moment Title: Enlightened by Fire

Thinking Mistake: Phoenix believes the fire provides illumination.

Action: Phoenix tries to read with the firelight.

Phoenix (enlightened): "This 'lamp' gives off a warm glow."

Montage 19: Fire-Based Entertainment Title: Playing with the Flames

Thinking Mistake: Phoenix thinks he's playing games with the fire.

Action: Phoenix pretends to play games.

Phoenix (playful): "Time for some fire games!"

These montages continue to showcase Phoenix's humorous misunderstanding as he interacts with the fire, believing it to be a house with various amenities and activities.

Certainly, here are the final 11 montages where Phoenix mistakes the fire for the house:

Montage 20: Hot Tub Dream Title: The Fiery Hot Tub

Thinking Mistake: Phoenix imagines the flames as a hot tub.

Action: Phoenix dips his feet in the fire.

Phoenix (content): "Ah, the perfect 'hot tub' for a roach!"

Montage 21: Fireplace Gathering, Part 2 Title: More Stories by the Fire

Thinking Mistake: Phoenix continues to believe he's by the fireplace.

Action: Phoenix gathers more imaginary friends.

Phoenix (enthusiastic): "The more, the merrier by the 'fireplace'!"

Montage 22: Singing Campfire Songs Title: Campfire Karaoke

Thinking Mistake: Phoenix thinks he's at a campfire sing-along.

Action: Phoenix starts singing to the flames.

Phoenix (singing): "Kumbaya, my fire, kumbaya!"

Montage 23: Indoor Fireworks Display Title: Fireworks Extravaganza

Thinking Mistake: Phoenix believes the fire is a fireworks show.

Action: Phoenix watches the flames with excitement.

Phoenix (awestruck): "These fireworks are fantastic!"

Montage 24: A Warm Shower Title: The Fire Shower

Thinking Mistake: Phoenix tries to take a shower in the flames.

Action: Phoenix stands under the "shower."

Phoenix (chilled): "This 'shower' is surprisingly warm!"

Montage 25: Inviting the Neighbors Title: Hosting the Neighborhood BBQ

Thinking Mistake: Phoenix thinks he's hosting a BBQ.

Action: Phoenix invites more friends over.

Phoenix (welcoming): "Join the BBQ at my fire house!"

Montage 26: Fire-Enhanced Dance Party Title: Grooving to the Flame Beats

Thinking Mistake: Phoenix believes he's at a dance party.

Action: Phoenix dances to the "music."

Phoenix (dancing): "This party is lit!"

Montage 27: The Fire Bedtime Story Title: Bedtime by the Fire

Thinking Mistake: Phoenix thinks he's reading a bedtime story.

Action: Phoenix holds a book and "reads."

Phoenix (gentle): "Once upon a time, in the fiery house…"

Montage 28: Firey Gardening Title: Tending to the Flame Garden

Thinking Mistake: Phoenix believes he's gardening.

Action: Phoenix pretends to garden in the flames.

Phoenix (enthusiastic): "Time to tend to my fire garden!"

Montage 29: Goodbye to the "House" Title: Farewell to the Flame Residence

Thinking Mistake: Phoenix bids farewell to the fire.

Action: Phoenix waves to the flames.

Phoenix (nostalgic): "Thanks for the fiery hospitality!"

Montage 30: Back to Reality Title: Phoenix's Fire House Misadventure

Thinking Mistake: Phoenix finally realizes the truth.

Action: Phoenix leaves the fire.

Phoenix (grinning): "Back to my real house now!"

These concluding montages highlight Phoenix's humorous adventures as he embraces various activities, believing the fire to be his "fire house." In the end, he returns to reality, realizing it was all a playful misunderstanding.

[eggpuffs]

I really like your post. You might have already posted before but can you give a list/or do you have a list of cozycore YouTube channels please

aww thank you so much!! 

i posted some specifically Japanese ones here 

https://eggpuffs.tumblr.com/post/633803625157804032/hello-miss-egg-uwu-i-want-to-ask-if-you-have

and then i would also add these (some of these are mostly cooking but they have some sweet homey shots as well)

https://www.youtube.com/c/cnliziqi/videos

https://www.youtube.com/c/%EB%83%A5%EC%88%B2nyangsoop/videos

https://www.youtube.com/c/seungahne/videos

https://www.youtube.com/c/haegreendal/videos

https://www.youtube.com/c/honeykkicook/videos

https://www.youtube.com/c/%ED%94%8C%EB%9E%9C%EB%94%94planD/videos

https://www.youtube.com/user/dailycuisine/videos

and this one’s definitely focused on cooking HAHAHHA like even more so but i really like one meal a day

https://www.youtube.com/c/%ED%95%98%EB%A3%A8%ED%95%9C%EB%81%BConemealaday/videos

hope that helps! 💖💕

[wooahaes]

tea & honey

pairing: non-idol!jeonghan x gn!reader

prompt: tea [private fall prompt list]

word count: 0.6k~

warnings: food/drink mentions. jeonghan being cheeky.

daisy’s notes: anyway so here’s an actual cute fall prompt :)

If there was one thing Jeonghan knew about you, it was that you liked tea the best during autumn.

You had explained it to him once. Tea was good year-round, but this time of year had the coziest vibes. He had pointed out winter, and you shot him down: winter was the time where tea was better for keeping your ass from freezing. It was survival, Yoon Jeonghan, not just pure enjoyment. He had laughed at you softly because of how serious your face was, and couldn’t resist the urge to kiss you and call you cute. As much as he loved your passion for your hobbies and jobs, he loved it when you were fired up about smaller things like this. Like the way you liked your tea (something Jeonghan had commit to memory early into your relationship, because he liked surprising you with your favorite tea orders on dates just to see the sparkle in your eyes), or small animals in sweaters, or the proper way to cook ramyeon because you and a friend had an ongoing debate about it (noodles first or the seasoning packet, and Jeonghan would never forget the way you smacked his arm when he said it should be water first). 

Maybe that was why, on occasion, he riled you up about silly stuff like the best tea during this season.

“I still think you should stick to using honey,” he said while he was making lunch for the two of you. “It’s healthier for you than sugar.”

“Oh, bullshit, Hannie, you steal my sugar cubes all the damn time.” There was no sharp edge to your voice the way you’d bickered with him before, for real, and he could tell you almost laughed. “Don’t try to tell me it’s healthier--I just like watching the way sugar cubes melt.”

“Then use honey cubes.”

“Honey cubes aren’t real--”

“They are!” He turned to you. “Minghao uses them all the time. Pull out your phone right now and look it up.”

You mumbled something under your breath about how he was definitely bullshitting you, only to go quiet a minute later. “Hannie.”

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

“And?”

“You’re still wrong about tea.”

He laughed, and thought about how badly he wanted to kiss you and call you every sweet name he could. Words couldn’t describe how enamored he was with you, and how even a silly subject like sugar cubes and honey could bring those feelings up in full force. He watched you roll your eyes with a smile, heading over to the cabinet to get down a box of that apple cinnamon blend he knew you were fond of.

And of course, Jeonghan being Jeonghan, couldn’t let that go. “Can you get the black tea instead?”

“Hannie.”

“Minghao said it’s better for this weather and more versatile year-round,” he said. “Your tea is too sweet for a meal, too--”

“Oh my god, Jeonghan.” You knew him too well, and the laugh he let out was a clear indication he was messing with you again. “You’re impossible, I swear.”

He abandoned the food for a moment, pulling you in by the hips before planting a long kiss on your lips. “You know...”

You wrapped your arms around his neck. In a moment, you’d have to let him go, but you’d always savor his affections in the moment. “Mmhm?”

“I think your lips are sweeter,” he said. “And I’m still right on everything--”

You rolled your eyes as you let go of him, laughing because of course that was coming next. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“I am,” he turned back to the pan. “But I already knew that.”

general taglist: @wonuziex​ @twancingyunhao​

[arabellamonkey]

Tony’s terrible holiday “tradition” of eating “clean”, calorie counting, and stress (aka diet culture but for Silicon Valley types ☹️) between all the fancy holiday parties and functions he has to go to with rich and sugary food is challenged and eventually upended by Steve’s newfound passion: Christmas baking.

Steve in fact gets the whole team into it. And he loves to share soooo much it’s hard (aka impossible) for a Tony to say no. And maybe Steve and the team is able to get Tony to go to a few less awful parties and stretching himself so thin during the holidays

Maybe they even suss out the root cause of Tony overworking himself during December is him trying not to feel anything but tired around the time of his parents death. And they can all be there for him. And he can finally relax and have a cozy holiday with his new family

YES a thousand times YES. anon let me tell you this is the coziest ask i've ever received and i 'll be forever grateful to you for telling us about this amazing headcanon 🥺🥺🥺🥺

one thing i love thinking about is Steve starting to reconect with things he was passionate about in the past as a way to stop feeling numb, if that makes sense? for me, steve waking up on the 21st century is a trauma in itself, and he tends to dissociate a bit sometimes, struggling to connect with this new reality. but do you know what I think helps him? cooking and knitting. i don't know why, but i see those two passions and think of warmth and joy and connecting with others, and in this headcanon so does Steve. Steve, who wants to connect with his teammates, and chooses Christmas to get to work. he knits mittens for nat and bruce and clint (his are fingeless so he can handle his bow better) and tony. and he cooks. he cooks old recepies from his days, and he shows bruce and thor how to cook them and he offers a taste to nat, clint, buck and obviously tony.

tony, who doesn't seem to eat much these days :( and steve just wants him to be healthy AND allow himself to enjoy food. so slowly he starts cooking stuff specifically for tony, mini cupcakes, cakes, anything. and it starts as a friendship thing, a way for him to connect with his teammate and friend tony.

right?

right...

so he cooks for him and knits for him and starts spending more time with him in the famous sofa in tony's workshop and 🥺🥺 that's how tony opens up to him about how his past christmas has been until now, full of healthy food and boring galas and no family with whom to spend quality time apart from rhodey and pepper.

so obviously steve —a man with a mission— decides to create the perfect christmas with tony with the same resolve he goes to battle with.

and obviously he succeeds, and by the time New Year arrives, Tony knows deep down his heart he finally has a family, a full, real one, that will always have his back so he can relax and enjoy himself (a good, tasty sweet food!! that's important)

(and if steve and tony end up kissing under the mistletoe, well, all the better!!)

[blazewatergem]

Cleaning - Surefire Camp

Spring cleaning at Surefire Camp! Mostly happy, one angsty section for poor Bella, and me kind of ribbing myself for misspelling her name so many times before :’D for the record: it’s BellA, not BellE. Even if it says that on her character ref - yes, I got it wrong there too 😭

Please enjoy! This actually came out more than DOUBLE the words than the first one!

Spring cleaning. One of the most hectic times of Surefire Camp. While most of the cabins lie empty, the ones with living occupants did need to get picked up every so often. The deep clean that comes with spring, though, always felt far more refreshing.

It was also a great time to get to see what the other kids were up to. Seeing how the adults focused on their main lodge, the group got to bounce between their own places and…mildly rub each other on what was up with their stuff.

The first, of course, was Cleona’s.

🧹

“Hoooooo, Cleona, that’s a lot of blankets.”

Alex whistles, staring at the growing mound as Cleona pulls out fluffy blanket after blanket from her cabin. And then pillowcases. And then sheets. At some point, he’s pretty sure it should be two piles and not one.

“Yeah, well, I kind of need them.” She lifts one up, gesturing back towards herself, “Most of my cabin is bed. I use them to set up a den, for the most part, and let’s be real - I’m always the one hosting sleepovers.”

She’s started to use her back as a basket, draping the blankets over herself to help carry them.

Alex starts picking them up too. “Yeah, that’s because yours is the coziest. Nice and big so we all can have fun. You don’t share with anyone.” He winks at the end, making her laugh.

It was the truth. Sabella lived in the lake, for the most part, and Bella still slept in the main lodge - for safety reasons - while Charlie and Alex shared a cabin.

“You try getting enough space with a body like this. Beds are small, sofas are small, I can’t sit in chairs.” Cleona is giggling all the while they lug her stuff to the laundry and back again. It’s a comfortable feeling, doing it together.

On the way back, Alex looks around. “You seen Charlie?”

“Yeah, he’s on floor duty.”

“Eh?”

He understands the minute they get back into Cleona’s cabin. While a majority of it is carpeted, soft and well-worn with time, there’s still some regular flooring near the door and into the area that works as a dining room.

Charlie was currently in puddle mode, roaming like a roomba across said flooring.

“My dude,” Alex states, “the fuck.”

A head appears in the middle of the green pool.

“I’m helping!”

🧹

Charlie and Alex’s cabins were next - and things were going smoothly!

Until Cleona got into the fridge.

“How the hell are you two alive?” She chuckles, pulling out so many half drank water bottles, “There’s, like, no food in here. Oop, I take it back -“

Triumphantly, she raises a single pack of bacon above her head.

“Found some.”

She outright laughs at the offended looks she gets back.

“Hey! I do most of my cooking in the dining hall, better and bigger kitchen there.” Alex defends, “Stuff here is just for, like, quick cooking or cravings, y’know? D-Don’t think I didn’t see what was in your fridge!”

Cleona’s cat ears press against her head, and she ducks a bit, “Yeah, yeah, I get it.”

Having a shit ton of raw beef was a pretty strange sight to the guys. And milk. A lot of milk.

“B-But I’m the only one in there! There’s two of you here, shouldn’t you have more? Especially with Charlie’s biology.” It was a good point. If Charlie ever lost a lot of himself, eating or drinking can help make up for it.

Considering he was always losing bits of himself, the poor teen was just…always hungry.

Like right now, where she could see him quite literally shoving himself into a bag of chips.

“We keep snacks in the cabinets,” Alex explains, putting the victory bacon back, “Trust me, we use the fridge.”

“For what —“ In a practiced move, Cleona starts opening the drawers in the fridge to check through those. She doesn’t really expect to find anything.

But she does.

The two of their bickering goes silent as they stare down at the ketchup packets. Just…just a shit ton of ketchup packets. Cleona can see different labels of where they’re from - most from fast food places, but there was a few from local diners.

They fill up the entire. Drawer.

“…Hey Alex?”

“¿Qué?”

“I think it’s my turn to ask what the fuck.”

“Probably.”

“…Well?”

“Hmm?”

She gestures towards the drawer, “Wha-I-the- what do you MEAN hmm?! Bro, the fuck?!”

Alex looks at the mound of packets, and shrugs. “I dunno, seems easier than drinking it from the bottle.”

“WHAT —“

🧹

They’ve masked up. They’ve got gloves on. Cleona has even wrapped bags around her paws to keep them and the fur up her legs safe.

Charlie’s room. Their next destination.

“We ready?” Alex’s voice is muffled a bit, the teen having found and put on a gas mask.

“Yeah.” Cleona adjusts her goggles, mop in hand, “We got this.”

As they unlock the door and step in…

They reel back, stunned.

Everything’s clean.

Charlie didn’t have much. A bathtub - with the drain and any piping removed - for a bed, some clothes for particularly hot days, a mini fridge for liquids, and a tablet made to be waterproof loaded up with books and games and things.

But not a smidge of dirt or grime anywhere.

Where they expected mass amounts of dried slime, goo, and stains there’s none. Even mold or just in general use is…not there.

It’s pristine to the point of creepy.

“U-Uh, Charlie, buddy?” Alex calls out, “You’ve been sleeping in here right?”

The slime in question slinks up to them, looks in, and nods.

“Yeah! But why are you two going in? I don’t cause any mess.” Charlie starts, and then continues after their dumbfounded looks, “My slime dissolves dirt and stuff. Plus it doesn’t stain or dry up - it just kinda evaporates. Y’know, poof.”

…

“You’re cleaner than we are.”

“Charlie, that’s so cool!”

🧹

Before heading to the main lodge, the three go towards the lake to help out Sabella with the lake.

Most of the floaties they just. Leave floating in the lake so they’re always available. From unicorn donut tubes to giant parkour setups - one they all begged for and got one beautiful Christmas - they drift along the clear crystal waters.

What makes a difference now is bringing them up on the shore for Eleanor to check over. She knew how to fix this stuff, so they save it for her.

Something about not trusting anyone else with a needle.

Which is where they find this awful predicament.

“Charlie! Try - try leaning!” Cleona tries not to laugh, she does, but seeing just how stuck he was…it was hard. She could barely make out his panicked face as the floatie he was on started drifting away.

It’s a little kid one, and it looked like a pirate boat.

For some reason this is important to her to note.

“If I lean ‘m going in!!” Charlie yells back, “Please!! I CAN’T SWIM!” He’s so concerned.

Alex is laughing, “Yes you can! We’ve seen you do it before!” They had, and Charlie was - actually - a really good swimmer.

That does not stop his weak flailing.

“BUT THE LAKE WATER FEELS WEIRD IN MY SLIMEEEE!” He cries out, before falling backwards with a yelp. He sits back up, and smiles at the sight of a long, long scaly tail wrapped around his tube, tugging him to shore.

“Thanks Sabella!” The alligator girl laughs at him, shrugging as she drifts.

“No worries, Charlie.”

🧹

While the others head towards the dining hall, ready to eat, Cleona heads towards the main lodge. She knew Bella sometimes needed some…extra love, with cleaning day.

The little girl was very convinced that getting rid of stuff hurts said stuffs feelings, and thus needed to be reassured it was perfectly ok.

Which is how she enters the office room - a front in case anyone ever came by, wanting to stay at Surefire Camp, only to be informed the main campgrounds and cabins are ‘closed for repairs’.

Only to find a fretting Eleanor.

“Miss Eleanor?” Cleona stops on her way to the living spaces.

“Oh! Cleona, great timing, can you go check on Bella?” The older woman frets, fiddling with her many bracelets, “We were going through her room, and-and when Phil brought a letter in - for Bella, not me - she got upset and begged me to leave!”

She sighs, silver and brown hair falling from her bun - almost like an emphasis on the woman’s low mood.

“I didn’t want to push her, so I did. But she hasn’t come out, and it’s been a while…”

Cleona nods, “Yeah I’ll go take a peek. Don’t you worry, I’ll get our bumblebee back to buzzing.”

She hopes.

🧹

The crying she could hear through the door was not promising.

“Bumblebee baby?” Cleona says, “You wanna open the door for me?”

“No!” Is the sobbed out answer, “I don’ wanna!” Oof, ok, definitely gonna need a light touch here.

“Honey bear, you’re worryin’ me. What’s going on?” Cleona settles down just outside the door, lying down and crossing her arms. It’s a few minutes later, but a piece of paper slides under the door. A quick pick up and glance over it reveals everything.

Dear Belle,

Don’t write anymore.

It wasn’t even signed, but Cleona knew who it was from. While the teen has lost most of her faith in humans - along with most of the people living there - Bella had always wanted her parents to still love her. So, sometimes on her own in little red crayon, sometimes with the help of Phil or Cleona herself, Bella would write letters to them.

They never responded until now.

Cleona feels the paper crumple under her tightening hands. She drops it and knocks again at the door. The crying has…lessened.

“Bella, please open the door.”

There’s soft footsteps, the click of a lock, and then the steps go away. Cleona opens the door to a pastel daydream turned dark.

There are ribbons, frilly dresses and light colored clothes strung up in different areas. The closet, Cleona knows, was turned into a little reading nook and appeared to currently be occupied by the big stuffed bunny they had won at the state fair. The bed was overstuffed, piled on pillows and blankets.

A pile on the floor looks like Bella was sorting through her toys when the letter came in. Now, the girl was crying into a Squishmallow…which, Cleona is pretty sure that one is hers, but that’s ok.

“Oh, baby, it’s gonna be ok.” Cleona starts, gently rubbing the other girl’s back. The child cries harder.

“Th-they didn’t even geeet my nameee right!” She’s abandoned the Squish for hugging Cleona, hiding her face in the teen’s shoulder.

Cleona…can’t give her the right words. So, she drops her voice, and purrs. Purrs and purrs and purrs, holding the toddler close to try and soothe the pain.

Cleona just wishes this would be the only time Bella is ever let down, but she knows better.

All she can do is be there for her. For all of them.

🧹

The night ends with s’mores, a insisted upon tradition. As Cleona holds Bella, eyes still a bit puffy and face smeared with marshmallow, she wonders if she’d rather things were different.

If any of their parents could have accepted them, would they be better off? Then again, some of them weren’t there because of that. Besides, watching Bella munch on another s’more - it’d be her last one for a few days, to avoid adding to the sugar meter in her body - Cleona…really wouldn’t change anything.

They’re a family, no matter who leaves or joins. She’s happy to support them through thick and thin, no matter what.

[thestarsarealigning]

Love Acts the signs would totally do

Aries: run through an airport to declare their love, jump on a bar to declare their love, crash a family party to declare their love. Just any occasion because it comes from Aries' GIGANTIC heart and they just need to let it sing

Taurus: prepare a bubble bath before the other one gets home. Surprise them with it and then get in it together, drink something sparkly and enjoy each other's company. Man, Tauruses are the BEST.

Gemini: prepare a picnic basket and go behind a stadium to listen to a GREAT concert together. Also, on this very evening Gemini will swallow their snarky comments about how this is all so cheesy and just be happy that their partner has rose petals in their hair and find it cute

Cancer: Write their partner a love song and play it on an improv stage in front of all of their friends, while their partner just burst into tears because Cancer gives you FEELS

Leo: Shout it from the rooftops that THEY ARE IN LOVE and not caring who can hear it, just cause their head is bursting and they want to tell the world

Virgo: prepare their partner a really fancy dinner, all home-cooked and absolutely DELICIOUS, ask them to dress up and help them getting ready, then revealing it will be all personal, on their private balcony, and it's just the coziest thing cause they have it just for themselves

Libra: they HATE musical numbers with all their heart, but for their partner they will organize the biggest freaking flashmob ever, dancing in the middle and throwing confetti just so that they might see how special they are to Libra

Scorpio: when their love has lost an earring, Scorpio will just drop everything and take their car and ride through the whole city AT NIGHT to search for it, and when they can't find it, Scorpio will spontaneously suggest a little walk up a hill, where they can watch the sunrise and feel like everything isn't so bad after all.

Sagittarius: book a surprise trip and don't tell them where you're going til you're AT THE AIRPORT. And then when their partner's afraid it's gonna be adventure camping or sumn, Sag surprises them again in that it's just a wonderful Spa Relax Retreat because it's not for themselves, but for their partner

Capricorn: Puzzle with their partner even though they find it very nerdy because the partner LOVES it, they sit on this puzzle for evenings and Capricorn is just so patient and once it's done, it reads 'I love you' in the bottom of the puzzle

Aquarius: write a poem or poetry slam to read out at a friend's wedding, it's REALLY funny but only Aqua's partner can read the romantic subtext cause it's written in many inside joke references

Pisces: these actual FREAKING cinnamon rolls will get a real balloon ride for you and then just apologize the first 15min that it's so loud, and then calm down when they just see their partners wide smile

[some-kindofgnome]

🎄- Erwin Smith

happy christmas eve Lauren! 💖 daddy erwin will NOT fail you this christmas, that much can be said for certain!

(also... this got a lil long, so some of it is under the cut 💖)

Iiiii have a feeling that this man is quite a romantic. he can’t afford to show it in the field, or to his associates, or to his comrades or to his friends. but he’s let you in, all the way in, and that means that you’re about to be subjected to all the romance that he dreams of to keep him going in the field. 

he would wake up before you, but he’d let you wake so slowly and peacefully, stroking your hair and rubbing your back until your eyes flutter slowly open. and when you’re finally awake he’ll kiss your temple all soft with a good morning, my love. 

breakfast is tasty but always nutritious- plenty of fresh fruit and good protein, because he’s got big plans for today! I think he would hold off on giving you your present right away, taking the morning nice and slow instead. there’s a little snow falling outside, and for the first time in a very long time, the world feels safe- just for a little while. 

he takes care of you all day. keeps your coffee hot, keeps the fire stoked. fucks your brains out on the sofa takes a little bit of time to read that book he hasn’t opened since last christmas. 

I think he’ll definitely make sure you get outside for at least a few minutes of fresh air. maybe a little stroll through town. maybe just a couple minutes chatting on the terrace. fresh air and a lil sunshine is important, u know? 

right before dinner, he’ll present you with your gift & it’ll be, like.... that thing that you wanted so badly but could never quite push yourself to get it. he’s been watching you pine over it all year and knew that it was the perfect thing for you. but he’s been a real bastard about keeping his mouth shut so you had absolutely no idea. 

I think he’ll cook for you, too. maybe he’s not that experienced but he’s gonna try his goddamn best for you. he’ll get the best cuts of meat he can find. warm buttery potatoes. maybe even a few sweets, if he can find them 👀 and he can’t keep his hands off you as you help him clean up!

erwin will provide you with the coziest & most romantic christmases out there. I think it’s the one day a year he really takes off. doesn’t even glance in the direction of his study, let alone pour over paperwork like he so often does. christmas is for you and he’s going to show you all the love he’s been saving for you. 💖 

I’m dreaming of a soft Christmas ☃️

[vanchlo]

Gatsby (Green Eyes / 3)

Read the first part, here, and the second part, here! :-)

Blurb Synopsis: With a few months of teaching under your belt, at times you find yourself struggling. Luckily, your boyfriend and teaching colleague, Harry, is there to help you by offering advice or a comforting kiss. Although you’ve only been dating for a few months, you find that there's something special about this man.

Genre: Teacher Harry, fluff, and romance.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 10.4k words, whoops 

Pairing: Harry x Reader

Music Inspo: Happy Together by The Turtles (click to listen) 

Your mind is muddled with thoughts. Remember to send this email today. Make sure to put this in so-and-so’s mailbox. Don’t forget to send that birthday card in the mail. Can’t misplace that sheet you have to make copies of tomorrow for an assignment. Enter those grades. Grade those tests, and those papers. They weren’t wrong, you think, when they said the work of a teacher never ends. As you sit at your desk, the world war two novel you’ve been trying to read lately stares back at you from the sidelines, adding another stick to your pile. A rather massive pile, at that. You knead your temple as the blinking cursor awaits your words on the lit screen. Words that you don’t have yet, and aren’t sure when you will. You’ve found it more and more difficult to send the hard emails home to parents, and even after three and a half months under your belt of teaching, it hasn’t gotten any easier. 

“What’d I say ‘bout bitin’ yer nails?” 

Breaking your stare off with your computer, your eyes jump to your door where you find Harry standing there. 

Placing your chin in your propped hand, you sigh, “I’m sorry.”

“Here, ya look like ya need sumthin’ else t’ chew on,” he murmurs, taking a step into your classroom. Something leaves his hand to fly into the air, skidding to a stop in front of you on your desk. At the sight of the shiny gold wrapper marked by the words, Twix, you return to his eyes with a smile. “Now, wha’s got ya so nervous, bird?”

“I’m trying to write an email home, and not a happy one.”

“Ah, I hate havin’ t’ write t’ose meself, they’re neva easy. Can I help?” he inquires, taking slow steps into your classroom. When your laptop sounds with a chime!, the alert for a new email, your eyes leave his tall figure. 

His question goes unanswered on accident with the appearance of the email loading before your eyes. The words start to trickle into your mind, and with their absorption, the heaviness felt in your heart grows. 

“Hullo? Anybody home in there?” Harry laughs, his feet stopping in front of your desk. You don’t answer, and you barely see him lean to the side to look at you. “Hey, wha’s tha matta?” he questions, his tone suddenly changing. Gulping, no words come to you as the ones on your screen shoot icy fear into your veins. Your name falls from his mouth as he walks over to you, stopping behind you. 

“I have to be observed,” you groan, your face falling into your hands. “Later this week,” you finish with a whimper, your shoulders sagging. 

“Oh it’ll be okay, love. We all have it done once a year, ‘s only t’ benefit ya. ‘s fer feedback. Ya don’t gotta worry. Principal’s observation ‘s at tha end o’ tha year,” he tells you, his soothing voice turning irritating at the last part. You respond with a whine, but you find that you can’t remain upset with him when his arms come around you. “Ya’ll do great, bird. Don’t fret. I know things have been stressful lately fer ya, so try not t’ let it botha you.”

“But it does. I already feel like I’m not doing a good enough job, and then somebody has to observe me, ugh. I’m going to be so nervous that I’ll probably screw up even more,” you exhale, hiding away from your fears, but soon you feel your chair spin around. Tearing your hands away from your face, you open them to find Harry squatting in front of you. 

The mere sight of the dimples in his cheeks and the glint in his eye eases the tension felt throughout your body. A second later, you’re unsure of that when your sight graces the ebony dress shirt rolled up his taut arms, and the mustard slacks hugging his thighs. Yeah, there are a whole lot of reasons to make you feel tense around this man, and on the other hand he makes you feel at ease. Talk about confusing, when one thing has both effects on you. Ugh. 

“Yer too hard on yerself, birdy. Ya gotta stop it, I don’t like seein’ me girl feel so down,” he hums, his thumb painted in cracking hot pink nail polish tapping your nose. Even just the thought of how he’ll let you paint his nails the next time he comes over to your house makes you feel better. By now, he doesn’t even bat an eye when you ask him, and by the look of his battered nails, anticipation grows inside of you at the thought. “Now, why don’t ya try t’ forget ‘bout tha observation, and lemme help ya write tha email t’ tha parent? Then we can leave and ya can come ova t’ mine, and I can cook ya a nice dinna.” 

His lips split into a smile in front of you, sparking one on your own. “Has anybody ever told you that you’re the best boyfriend in the world?”

“Hmmm, I dunno, maybe. I can’t recall, but I wouldn’t complain t’ hear dat a few more times,” Harry smiles, leaning forward to surround your lips with his. Yours curl into a smile as his fingers dance across your cheek and into your hair. 

“Harry, the email,” you begin after breaking the kiss. 

“Shh, lemme have a kiss first. ‘s been too long,” he almost laughs, pressing his lips back to yours.

“I saw you in sixth hour in the copier room and you got one then,” you interrupt, knowing that you’re getting on his nerves. 

“Too long,” is all he says impatiently, replacing his lips on top of yours. 

Relaxing, you move yours together with his and soon find your hands running along his cheeks prickly with facial hair. They run down the expanse of his warm neck, his tamed beard soon fading away. Pads of your fingers collide with the chain of his necklace hidden under his shirt, signaling you’re almost there. You let a grin slip, impeding the kiss, when you can feel his taut chest under his button up. Finally.

“Like what yer findin’?” he asks, laughing against your mouth. 

“Mmmhmm,” you answer slyly, peeking open your eyes to find his on yours, mere inches away. “Maybe we should write dat email now. Don’t wantcha gettin’ too carried away now,” Harry hums pulling away, much to your disappointment. “No, yer not gonna get me with tha pout again, so dontcha try it now.” He wags a finger at you as his words play on his face. Feeling risky, you reach forward and bite at the tip of it, smelling the cinnamon lotion he has a bottle of on his desk. 

“Ya betta watch it, bird!” Harry chuckles, the smile taking grasp of him now, as well as the laugh that sings to your ears. 

“Or else what?” you reply, wiggling your eyebrows at him. 

“Open yer email befo’ ya convince me with that adorable face o’ yers.”

You ignore him and continue to stare at him, happiness and longing showing in your eyes. You’re certain that he sees it too, you’re just not sure what he’s going to decide to do with it. His bottom lip comes between his teeth as his green eyes stare into yours, him standing only a step away from you. Although it’s the slightest movement, his hands starts to trail from the back of your chair. 

“Birdy,” he begins with a warning, shaking his head at you, that song leaving his strawberry lips again. Suddenly, you wish he was wearing a tie today so you could grab a hold of it and pull him in by it, but alas he’s without one today. “Don’ test me.”

His words are hypocritical, meaning one thing as his face tells you another story entirely. Somehow, they have the opposite effect on you, egging you to go further with the teasing. You enjoy pushing his buttons, another thing that he knows far too well by now. Your fingers sitting limp on your legs itch to touch him, and roam his body. Those curls, his bearded cheeks, that muscular chest, or those thick arms. Maybe even all of him. 

“We can have a good snog at me house tha sooner we get dis done,” Harry cautions, only worsening the pout forming on your lips. He reacts to it promptly, with that lip-biting returning, and his fist coming to his mouth. As if he has to refrain from saying, or doing, something. 

“Why can’t I just have one more now? It won’t hurt,” you plead, letting your chin fall a tad, allowing you to look up at him through your lashes. 

“‘m in real trouble with ya, aren’t I, birdy? Go’mme wrapped ‘round yer li’l finga like there’s no t’morrow, dontcha?” Harry teases, slowly leaning in, his arms bending at his wrists where they lay planted to your chair’s armrests. 

“Yeah, just the way you like it,” you note aloud, the anticipation buzzing in your gut as he draws near. 

“Yer right ‘bout dat, darlin’. Couldn’t say no t’ ya if I tried, thinkin’ that might ge’mme in trouble one o’ these days,” Harry finishes with a snicker before the taste of oranges meets your lips, and his beard is tickling your skin. Just the way you like it. 

* 

“Ravioli or pasta?” you hear float from the kitchen. 

It’s a wonder you hear him as your thoughts are consumed by his bookshelves. Although you’ve been to his place several times now, you’re still enamored by trying to familiarize yourself with the items he chose to live with him. 

The acoustic Taylor sitting in the corner on a stand. The Monet prints dotting his walls, along with those of The Stones, The Beatles, Fleetwood Mac, and Pink Floyd. The pink ukulele hung on his wall that he made you laugh with while playing a rendition of Somewhere Over The Rainbow the first time you came over. You swear that his blankets are the coziest and warmest. He also makes the best fires in the fireplace, even making s’mores for dessert the first time you came over, making quite the impression. The last time, you had devoured his record collection, flipping through it and playing the few that interested you at the time. You even like the silly napkins with sayings on them that he has in the kitchen. Now, you’ve returned to his book collection that seems to grow by a few each time you’re here. 

“Why do you have Shel Silverstein here, but not at school?” you call out to him, feeling the change in texture of the book spines, the tip of your finger ghosting over them. 

“‘Coz tha’s a copy from when I was li’l. Now, ya didn’t answer me question. Which d’ya want me t’ make, bird?” he replies gently, his deep voice carrying down the hall from the kitchen. 

Once again, his words drift by unnoticed as you carefully remove a copy of a novel that catches your eye, The House on Mango Street. You’ve found it before on his shelves at school, and the cover has always enraptured you, but you’ve never found the time to pick it up. Turning it over, your eyes flit over the description on the back of the thin book. 

“Hey, ‘m talkin’ t’ ya, birdy,” a voice murmurs, their words dancing across your neck with a tickle. “Tryin’ t’ figure out what t’ make us fer dinna.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry. I was just looking at this book. I’ve always meant to see what it’s about,” you comment, turning your head back ever so slightly, but you don’t need to do that to know he’s there. His arms have surrounded your waist and his beard tickles against your temple, lips soon dotting kisses along that space. 

“‘s okay. Ah, so this ‘s where yer always runnin’ off t’ when ya come ova. Got meself a book worm fer a girlfriend, I like it. Findin’ anythin’ good? Ya know ya can borrow whateva ya want, love. I know ya’ll take good care o’ it,” Harry coos in between feathery pecks he plants down the side of your face. “‘s a good one too, bird. I teach it every year. Tha students enjoy it too. Ya might come t’ teach it too, I think, since we’re both teachin’ American Lit. this semester,” Harry comments, soon his nose making an appearance tickling your cheek. The words on the back of the book were beginning to blur before your eyes, but they’re forgotten altogether when his fingers brush against your belly, clasping together there. 

“Thank you. I suppose I should read it already then.”

“Yeah, ‘m surprised ya haven’t already. Borrow it and take yer time with it, ya’ll enjoy it. ‘s a bit sad tho’ from what I rememba. Now, ravioli or pasta? Was thinkin’ a salad on tha side, marinated chicken, and sum berries,” he finishes, the safety his arms provide you with soon fleeting. Looking over your shoulder, he walks away and back to the kitchen, noting that he needs to get the pasta water boiling. 

As your eyes trail to his bum round in his gray jogging shorts, a cheeky answer begs at your lips instead. He pipes up again with an inquisitive ‘well’ and your response falls from your lips, “Ravioli, please.”

He hums a confirmation from his new perch down the hall, the sounds of cupboards opening and things being jostled around soon following. The rest of the book’s summary passes your eyes before you set it down on the arm of the brown sofa, forgotten as soon as he had walked in. Passing Harry’s favorite reading chair in the corner accompanied by a tall lamp, you tiptoe through the narrow hallway marked by framed pictures on the walls. You hear his soft singing as you round the corner, happening upon his towering figure to your left, standing at the stove. Taking a page from his book, you slide across the wooden floor in your socks, quickly capturing him with your arms. 

“Boo!” you whisper into his ear, feeling him jump in your arms. 

“Don’t scare me like that, coulda burned me hand,” he warns, but when you chance a look at the pot of water below him, you find him to be a fibber. 

“You don’t even have the gas on yet, silly,” you murmur in argument, dragging your nose along his freckled neck, paler from the winter months. 

“So? ‘m tryin’ t’ cook here,” he argues, although terribly, because a giggle escapes his candy-like lips. Ones you very much would like to kiss right now, and perhaps taste, and nibble. Nodding into his shoulder, your hands unravel to explore the toned expanse of his stomach under his shirt. “Bird,” he says firmly, the cracking sound of the salt grinder following his words. 

“I’m just helping you cook,” you explain feebly, brushing the pad of your thumb against his wispy happy trail. If you focus hard enough, you think you can remember from the times at the beach where his tattoos are, because they don’t feel any different to the rest of his skin. The fern leaves, the butterfly, and then the swallows below his collarbone. 

“Yer pushin’ me buttons again. Ya know I don’ like it,” Harry grumbles, trapped within your grasp when he turns to grab the package of refrigerated ravioli from the counter. 

“I’m sorry, can’t I just hug my boyfriend?” you whine, feeling your voice catch at that last word, even after two months. 

“Don’t play that game with me, go read yer book or sumthin’. Catch up on sum gradin’, you’ll thank yerself later fer doin’ so, and me.”

“You’re no fun,” you whimper, hands stilling amongst his toned abdomen and soon returning to your body. Cheekily, you give in to your temptations and pinch his bum hastily, running off with a giggle. 

“Birdy!” Harry calls after you, trying to hide the laugh in his voice, but you’re doing enough laughing for the both of you. You don’t hear the sound of his booming footsteps following you, and so you plop onto his sofa with a relieving sigh. “Remind me not t’ give ya more than two glasses o’ wine, ya get all weird afta two.” 

“I do not!” you exclaim, pressing the power button on the remote for his tv. 

“Ya do too! Grabbin’ me bum and gettin’ all handsy unda me shirt,” he contends with a scoff that dissolves into a titter. You respond with a ‘hmmph’ loud enough for him to hear as your head hits the velvet pillow at one end of the sofa, body splaying out to cover the rest. 

“I’ll say it again, you’re no fun!”

“Oh, give it a rest!” is all Harry says disbelievingly, meanwhile you pout as you try to immerse yourself in an episode of The Simpsons. 

It’s one of those Halloween specials, you’re not sure which one as there were several, even though Halloween was very nearly two months ago. Turning up the volume, you try to drown out the sound of pots banging together, and packages crinkling. You even attempt to mask the sound of his voice, the wine buzz securing you in your own little bubble, and a lonely one at that. 

“Babeeee,” you finally hear, along with the soft padding of his slippers nearing you. “Don’ be a crab, y’know I don’ like bein’ botha’d when ‘m cookin’ sumthin’ hot. Don’ want t’ get eitha o’ us burnt. I’d do tha same if I had kids and they were ‘round,” he mumbles, his footsteps coming to a pause, and so does your heart at the sound of his words. 

“Me li’l birdy,” Harry coos in a sing-song voice, the whine of the ancient wood floors marking his arrival. His calloused fingertips along your forehead and through your hair are difficult to ignore, as are his sweet lips smelling of Roscato against your skin. “Don’ be upset with me please, ya know I can’t handle it. Ya wanna come help me cook? You can chop up tha salad if ya’d like, well as long as yer hands are okay afta those glasses o’ wine.”

“Nah-ah,” you deny, rubbing your face with your hand, growing sleepy from the alcohol. “You don’t want my help, and I’m all dizzy.”

“I do want yer help, that’s why I asked. Hmm, dizzy, are you?” he queries, drawing your attention upwards to where he kneels beside the sofa, head hanging over yours. “Does this make ya dizzy too?” he grins upside down for you, pressing a quick kiss to your mouth. A smile hints at yours after the kiss ends, him raising an eyebrow. 

You shake your head ‘no’ and he clucks his tongue, dipping in for another kiss, this one longer than the last. You’d choose to grow dizzy from his intoxicating lips over anything else, again and again. The bite of the alcohol follows the sweetness of the white wine he had poured you both glasses of, his still being nursed in the kitchen. The chill to his pillowy lips is shocking against your warm lips, but it’s forgotten when your fingers drift to his hair. You’ve only gotten a taste of his scrumptious top lip before he pulls away, having kissed you in an odd way, upside down. 

“Ya still upset with me?” he breathes against your lips, rubbing his nose against yours ever so slightly, a smirk edging at his lips. 

“I won’t be after one more kiss, and a cuddle,” you insist, testing your limits, but by now you’re fairly certain what you can get away with. Sometimes it surprises you how much, from stealing his favorite pen from his desk, grabbing his butt in the breakroom, knicking a sweater from his closet the last time you were over, or spamming him with texts of songs he wouldn’t ever listen to but he still does, for you. 

  “Alrighty then, c’mere, birdy,” he smiles before he melts against you in a kiss, once again. 

Soon, he’s scooping his arms under your legs and settling you on his lap, sinking into the sofa. Your head finds a home below his collarbone, legs draped across his lap and your bum hanging off the side of it. 

“I forgot ya get all tired on me afta alcohol. I gotta rememba t’ only dole it out when tha sun ‘s still up,” he giggles, the sound reverberating around in his broad chest under his Paul McCartney & Wings shirt. His fingers surround one of your hands, holding it to his chest as his other cups your waist where he holds you against him. 

“Yeah,” you mumble softly, trying to focus on the tv show, but it’s a lost cause. 

With his refreshing citrus smell enveloping you, the notes of the tangy orange he eats by sections every day clings to his skin somehow. Dreamily, you admire his neat beard for the hundredth time, smiling adoringly at the little patches he hates that don’t grow in all of the way. For some reason, you love them even more, wondering what his cheeks look like underneath all of the dark brunette hair. 

The show is forgotten at the recesses of your mind, and instead, your attention revolves around Harry, much to your surprise. The rhythmic rising and falling of his chest. The scattering of ink covering both arms, top to bottom. The dark curly hair donning his chest if you nudge the collar of his shirt down far enough. Even the steady beating of his heart grabs your focus, leading you to the slight pause and wake of it at the corner of his neck. Perhaps your most favorite of all is a hard tie between watching the execution of his facial features, or playing with his hands. One he minds quite more than the other, but you think he’s starting to get used to it. 

Your fingers that look puny in contrast to his run over the minuscule hairs peppered across his knuckles, yet another trait of his you adore. It’s rare there’s one you’ve found of his that you don’t enjoy immensely. They fall against his, feeling the lukewarm metal decorating his fingers, and he doesn’t even pause. Scooting your eyes away from his hands quickly, you try to forget the inviting veins bulging from his skin you so often like to get lost tracing. They flit now to the almost indiscernible dimples caving into his hairy cheeks, eyes gleaming as he titters at something on the tv. It all ends much too soon and you’re caught in the act, his gaze falling to yours. 

“Whatcha lookin’ at me fer?” he wonders aloud, the space between his brow creasing. You resist rubbing it free, finding you don’t have the time to when his lips press a kiss to your nose. “Water’s boilin’, I should go start tha chicken. Ya can help if ya want, but ya don’t hafta, love. Don’ want ya cuttin’ those pretty li’l fingas o’ yers.”

A nod suffices for your imaginary words, and so does the curling of your lips that part, “I like you,” you mumble, eyes glued to him, much like a puppy dog. 

“I like ya too, birdy. Quite arguably tha best thing that’s happened t’ me in a while, you are,” he rasps, voice dripping of honey at the arrival of his words. The look painting his face tells you that he knows it too, and you can taste the honey when he pecks you. “Like ya so much I can’t believe it sumtimes.” 

*

You both knew within the first week of school that having your prep hour during the same time in fifth hour, although coincidental, was perhaps not a good idea. It was uncertain whether the demons of the world or the angels of it had arranged this, seeing as you soon distracted each other from getting much prep done for that day’s lessons, grading, what have it. The both of you got on each other’s nerves regarding it at times, him more so than you, but you’re rest assured you both were grateful for it. 

Like today, you can’t stop jiggling your knee as you listen to Chopin while grading papers on the interpretable meanings of the scarlet A from The Scarlet Letter. Harry had gotten quickly upset with you yesterday when you had hogged too much of his prep hour with kissing and talking, noting that he had already been interrupted by another colleague. Today, you’re trying to give him his space to get his work done, but you find it exhausting staying away from him, much like you always do, and have to already. The temptation is even worse when he’s less than fifty steps away, and with those lips that should be downright illegal. His snap at you still stung, if only a little, and you can’t find your focus seeing that you’ve hardly seen him around today. 

Sometimes you feel pathetic and he’ll joke that you are too, melting into a puddle like The Wicked Witch of the West from not having seen him enough. You know that you are, but the realization doesn’t make you feel any better. Neither do you when a second later, speak of the devil, you hear his voice outside your ajar door. It mingles with another, and this one mentions your name, you’re rather sure. Harry shushes the other person with a laugh, and when the voices have paused, you return your gaze to the marked-up paper you’re grading. Turning up the music on your desktop, you sigh as you start reading the sentence over again, for the third time. 

*

Relief buds at the tips of your limbs as you gather your things from your desk around quarter to four, positive Harry’s after-school Poetry Club should be over by now. It’s stolen away as your fingers dangle on the handle of the door, his door closed with his nifty store-like sign turned to CLOSED. Sighing, your face creases into a messy line at the sight of it, your fingers soon composing a text to him that goes unanswered. 

Looking both ways down the hall, when the coast is clear, your heels click across the hall to place you at his door. Again, it’s unlocked to allow the custodial staff to come and clean soon. Bingo! Blanketed in darkness, few streams of light make their way in past the new snow blanketing the campus grounds. You don’t need much light anyways, and after setting your things down on a desk, you settle in his chair. The squeaks are almost all the way out of it, you notice, as you pull on the chain to the vintage green lamp at the corner of his desk. A new addition. Albeit a few scattered pens and lists, it looks much the same since the last time you were in his classroom. You quickly find a pad of Post-Its, green this time, and a pen that’s a fun color. Licking your lips with an excited smile, the sadness of missing Harry is abated by getting the chance to sneak a note onto his desk, which you’ve found is far harder to do these days. You leave with a smirk donning your lips, and a few Bit-O-Honeys to tide you over until the next time.

Harry,

Do you have any plans this Saturday? I might know a certain girl who is planning on making homemade pizza, and who thought you might enjoy it. If you’d like to, I can let her know and pass your name along. I’ve heard she’s a rather good chef, just don’t get too many glasses of wine into her, or else she turns into a real fruit loop. 

P.S. I wish there were words for how I feel about you, but being the English nerds we are, I think that gives you a little advantage to understand once I find those words. Have a great day, my love.

Your Birdy 

xoxoxo

*

Huffing, you stab at the button again, but you still receive the same error message from the copying machine. Forgetting it, you log out before turning around, which wasn’t a great idea either, you find. A quiet squeal leaves your lips when you find Harry standing in front of you, grinning at his success from scaring you. 

“A li’l jumpy this mornin’, are we?” he smirks, sliding his covered arms into the pockets of his gray slacks. 

“Yeah, you could say that, and the copier hates me this week,” you return, walking past him and over to the shelf of supplies in containers. 

“Oh, ya can use me code if that helps. Maybe it senses ya hate it,” he giggles, now behind you. Your nod suffices for a response as you drag your fingers through the sea of pens, searching for one color. 

“Thanks, I appreciate it. Ugh, there’s never any red pens when I need one,” you sigh, annoyed. 

“Ya know ya can take one from me stash anytime ya need,” he insists, humming a tune as he taps his foot. You mumble another small ‘thanks’ before moving onto another container. 

“Hey, why ya bein’ all shy?” he inquires, his gentle fingers soon encircling your wrist, turning you to face him. Again, you wonder how he can look more handsome every day, even in a dorky gray pull over vest with a cream button up underneath. 

“You said we can’t do PDA in school.”

“‘s tha copier room and nobody else ‘s here, bird. ‘s fine, y’know that by now,” he argues, pulling you into his arms easily, manipulating you like soft clay. Trying and failing to hide a frown, his brow knits together in confusion. “Why ya bein’ all weird, hmm? Gonna tell me?”

“You don’t let me come and bother you during our preps anymore. You got all mad at me,” you confess blearily, letting your head come to rest on his shoulder. Hastily, you remove it and leave his arms, sure somebody will walk in the door at the least convenient second. 

A laugh sings from his lips as he follows you, winding an arm around your waist. His lips are soft against your cheek, the stubble framing it becoming normal to you by now, although a scratchy nuisance. Now, he’s made his way to stand in front of you, blocking you from the packs of Crayola markers you were eyeing up for a project. 

“‘m sorry I got mad, okay? Jus’ had loads o’ stuff t’ get done, knew I shouldn’t have snapped at ya, tho.’ I regret it now . . . . Will ya forgive me?” he begs, sticking out his bottom lip, making him even more irresistible and delectable. Shiny curls fall over his forehead from his mousy hair that’s shorter on the sides after his recent cut. 

After checking the door, you surprise his lips with an all-forgiving smooch, welcomed by the bitter taste of black coffee on his lips. Like always, it draws to an end far too soon, and this time by the tinny ringing of the first bell. 

“Betta get goin’, bird. Don’ wanna be late,” he teases, brushing his nose against yours. A short yelp escapes your lips when his hand squeezes your ass before he saunters off after another kiss. 

“Harry,” you mutter, shaking your head, squeezing his hand briefly before you enter the halls together. 

Although you’ve become accustomed to it, it still feels strange to slide on another mask once you step into the halls. Sometimes even the school. You feel them and you know they’re there, the stares from the students. The rumors buzzed around the beginning of the year about you and Harry, but with his help, they never got to you. Neither of you have ever confirmed anything to anybody, and luckily you haven’t had to so far, even amidst the continuing rumors. 

Nonetheless, you still share with the other the stories of your students teasing the both of you about dating the other. You only fed the fire when you dressed up together for Halloween, or when your classes often combined together in the computer lab or library, or on the rare occasions, they have a large Jeopardy game or group project together. More often than you like to admit, you get carried away and entertain the freedom that would come with being able to say ‘yes’ to your students when they ask if you’re together. That would only call for one occasion, though. One that is quite far down the future road. As your eyes wander along Harry, a couple months in and you can’t deny that this isn’t just another boyfriend. No siree. 

“What d’ya got on tha agenda t’day, love? Ya startin’ anythin’ befo’ break?” he asks you, pulling you from your reverie, probably for the best. 

“No, we’re wrapping up the unit this week before testing next Monday on the last day. The Scarlet Letter, Frankenstein, Grammar Do’s and Don’ts, and the Transcendentalist Writers,” you explain, folding your hands together and letting them fall to the waist of your long wine-colored dress. Dark tights hug your legs, but the spotty heating inside of the school makes you miss the black cardigan sitting at your desk. 

“Mmm, same here. ‘s a good day t’ do it, can’t really introduce anythin’ befo’ Christmas Break. They’ll all forget it by tha time they return in two weeks. We jus’ have a chapta left in most classes: Hemingway, To Kill A Mockingbird, Huck. Finn, and Robert Frost,” he comments, hands hidden away in his slacks. Often you’re grateful for it, the removal of the temptation for you. Then again, it tempts your eyes that like to dance across the tightness of his slacks, but you quickly avert them.

“That’s good, only three more school days counting today, and one more until my observation,” you huff, finding it arduous to keep the nerves surrounding the event at bay. 

“You’ll do fine, love, I keep tellin’ ya that. Ya gotta believe me one o’ these times,” Harry coos, coming to a stop when you round the corner, your classrooms only a few steps away. To your surprise, his long fingers spread warmth across your skin with a pat to your arm, a rare one at that. “Have a good day, don’ let tha kids get t’ ya yet. Only a few days left. ‘ll talk t’ ya later.”

“Thanks, I hope you have a good day too,” you echo, containing the smile you send him halfheartedly, always careful about how you act towards each other around students. He winks at you quickly before turning away with that delightful smile playing around his lips, making you wonder how long again until you can kiss them. 

*

His luscious curls make your fingers itch to touch them, but as you linger in your doorway watching him, you know that you’ll have to wait. After biding your time for a few seconds for the students to leave him after receiving help, with a mental shrug you decide you’ll wait. Soon, you find yourself in the office. Colleagues meander around the room, the secretary speaks on the phone, and a parent or two or waits for them. After a few smiles and greetings, you arrive at your mailbox. First, you pluck the bag of Bit-O-Honeys from your pocket, sticking them in his box with a note already taped to them. After fishing out the few papers sitting in there, your hand brushes against something on the bottom, but you don’t see anything when you look again. With a quirked brow, you stand on your tippy toes, spotting a lime green Post-It note stuck to the bottom piece of wood. A smile quickly consumes your face as you pluck it from there, sticking it to the first paper on top of your pile, not wanting to raise any kind of suspicion. You and Harry do your best to be extra careful, not wanting to give anybody a reason to pry, and by now you’re both positive nobody has any true reason to doubt your story. 

Your heels dig into the sides of your feet after your long day, making you quicken your pace back to your classroom. The frown creasing your features is soon replaced with that grin from before when you turn into your classroom, finally taking a peek at the note. 

Birdy- 

You’re not very good at this whole Christmas list thing, are you? I’m still wondering what you’d like. Mind helping a silly old man out before the holiday rolls around? I hope your day is going swell. Don’t hesitate to come and say hi during prep, you know you’re always welcome. You’re the best kind of distraction, you’re just a little too good at it sometimes ;) You’re looking too gorgeous in that dress today, and so I’ll need you to stop by so I can give you a proper snog in private, pronto. 

Harry xxxx

P.S. - Homemade pizza sounds lovely, I can’t wait. You spoil me (: 

P.P.S - You have no idea how much you mean to me, bird xo

“Verdict on tha possibility o’ that snog?” somebody murmurs, their voice followed by the soft whoosh of your door closing. To no surprise, Harry leans against the door unable to hold back the happiness showing on his face. 

“I think it’s a yes,” you answer slowly, placing the stack of things on your desk, but not moving an inch. You want to toy with him and make him work for it, but as always, you can’t resist him. 

“How was yer day?” he mumbles once your arms come around his middle, brushing against the knit sweater vest. Sometimes he dresses like older colleagues and other days like his young age, but nonetheless you can’t help but think he’s the best dressed of any male teachers here at the school. He’s just too goddamn handsome that he can pull off anything.

“Good, we finished all of our readings in my classes. I get to be observed doing review tomorrow, so I hope the observer likes my Jeopardy games,” you comment, slipping your hands under the fabric, feeling the warmth projected from his body. 

“‘m sure they will, love, ‘s a good idea ya came up with. I know it took loads o’ work doin’ four o’ ‘em fer tha four different classes ya have throughout tha day. What time ‘s yer observation, ya neva said?”

“It’s during my fourth hour, before lunch,” you answer, him humming a short reply. “You really think I look that nice in this dress? I thought I looked frumpy and too tall,” you question, pursing your lips as you take a look at your long plain dress. 

“Yes, think ya look amazin’, bird. Couldn’t keep my eyes off o’ ya all day wheneva I saw ya. Yer gonna make me slip up one o’ these times, and make me blow our cover,” Harry snickers, stepping forward to sink his fingers into your hair, a thumb falling to address your cheek. A knowing smirk tempts your lips, and it only worsens when his tongue comes out to run over his. “Think ya know that already, tho’ - y’know what ya do t’ me, dontcha?” 

You silently shake your head, but the smile makes an appearance, and your lie is free to the air. His breathy laugh mingles with it before he takes them away, scooping your top lip between his. His kisses fill you with a warm giddiness, one that leads your hands to leave his strong back, and wander down him. Juice from the orange he must have just eaten trickles onto your lips, meanwhile your fingers dip into his pants, just brushing the top of his clothed bum. 

Harry breaks the kiss suddenly, but you’re already giggling. So far, all you receive is an eyebrow raise from him, but his toasty hands don’t leave your cheeks. His gleaming rose lips part, “What’d I say ‘bout those hands o’ yers? Lookie here, they’re gettin’ you in trouble ‘gain,” he tuts, your left cheek soon cold as he wags a finger at you. 

“You never said I couldn’t, and your bum just looks so nice today- well, every day,” you counter, feeling cheeky. His eyes dart from yours as blush rises to his cheeks, pulling up the corners of his mouth along with it. 

“Bird,” he giggles, eyes soon returning to yours. “I dunno what ‘m gonna do with you,” he coos gently, cupping your cheek once more with his long fingers, returning his lips to yours for a kiss. His smile is felt upon yours and you find out why when his tongue prods at your lips, begging for entrance. As your hand slides down to caress his bum, your lips part to let him in. 

Day after day, you wonder just when it was that you let him into your heart, seeing how he’s made a home in there. You just hope he’ll never want to leave. More and more often lately, you keep thinking that you’d like him to stay there, perhaps for forever. 

* 

With chattering teeth and a frozen nose, you only start to warm up once you unlock the door to your room, grateful to get to spend the upcoming weekend inside your cozy home. Thoughts of the cute knit hats Harry wears and how he finds you adorable with your rosy cheeks and button nose pull your eyes to his door. Sighing, you unwrap your scarf, discovering he hasn’t came in yet this morning. Yet another thing to add to his list of acting odd lately at times. Even though you spoke to him through a few texts this morning, you long to hear his voice comfort you about your dreaded observation later today. Unbeknownst to you, he has this magical quality to him that never fails to calm you down, or to make things better. Yet another thing you love about him, you think with a smile, unloading your messenger bag of the materials you bring back and forth from school. 

Once that’s all unpacked and you remember to turn on the lights, as well as the blinking Christmas lights strewn around your room, you get an idea. Pushing his door open, you pull on the gold metal chain of his lamp, your hands drifting to the green Post-Its. The pen slides from your fingers when somebody surprises you with a loud ‘boo!’

“Harry, stop,” you giggle, briefly glancing to the doorway to find him in his puffy black coat. 

“Would ya look at that, I caught ya in tha act. It won’t be much o’ a surprise now,” he titters, softly closing the door behind himself, the hallways beginning to abate their previous silence. 

Shrugging, you pick the pen back up and start to scribble down a note while you still have a few precious seconds left. Smirking, you release your lip you bite on to speak, “I got here before you today, that’s a point for me. I think we’re three-two now for this week,” you tease him, listening to the slushy scuffle of his leather boots along the floor. 

“Ya, I hadda busy mornin’, had sumthin’ important t’ do. Can ya guess what it was?” he murmurs, appearing behind you suddenly, his cheek rubbing against yours softly. A long ‘sure’ falls from your lips, but it comes up short when you think about the sensation of his cheek against your face. It’s smooth and warm, and not hairy. 

“Wait a minute,” you announce, pulling away from him and turning around in his chair to look at him. Seconds after your jaw dropped to your chest, your hand flies to your mouth at the sight of him freshly shaven. “Harry, your face!” For the first time, you finally get to see his dimples on full display, collapsing into his round smiling cheeks. A long giggle escapes them as he runs a hand over them. 

“What d’ya think o’ me all clean shaven? Haven’t seen me without a beard, have ya, bird?” he inquires, raising an eyebrow as a cocky smirk creases his pink cheeks. Within seconds, you’re on your feet and feeling his satiny cheeks under your palms. 

“They’re so smooth, I like them. You look so nice, well I liked you before with a beard too. You’re so handsome either way,” you croon, leaning in to kiss him, tasting the spearmint toothpaste he uses. Your lips wander to his cupid’s bow, the slope below his bottom lip, and across the expanses of his grinning cheeks. 

“Stop,” he giggles, his hands finding a home on your waist, but he’s hard to believe as he leans into your lips. “Don’t think I look weird or less handsome without a beard, d’ya now?”

“No, you never could. Mmmm, I like kissing all over your cheeks,” you hum in between kisses, the musky smell of his shaving cream tickling at your nose. 

“Thanks, bird, ‘m glad t’ hear that. Now, lemme read dis note ya left, ‘m curious now.”

Much to your disappointment, his face soon leaves the clutches of your kisses, him trailing to his desk. Although whining at his absence, you let him, and instead you admire his adorable cheeks. It takes everything inside of you to hold yourself back from pinching them and kissing them. Hints of denial and shock come over you again, unsure of what you’re seeing at times. Never in the last seven-ish months since you truly met Harry, have you seen him without his beard. It’s kind of startling, but you know that he has you wrapped around his finger as well, because it unmistakingly makes you love him even more. Sometimes you wonder how that’s possible, even if you’ve only been official for a few months. 

“Why the change?” you wonder aloud, eyes glued to him as his scan over the note you didn’t get to finish. Lifting his glowing eyes to you, those greens stare back at you, and again you’re knocked off your feet by him. 

“Why not,” he answers with a shrug of his shoulders, holding up the note. “Ya didn’t finish, y’know. Ya started t’ declare yer love fer me and all that jazz, and it ended in tha middle o’ a sentence. Not very proper fer an English teacher, y’know,” he pouts, dragging his feet over to you after his sarcastic words. 

“Well, you didn’t let me finish,” you reply, surrounding his middle once he’s in reach. 

“D’ya care t’?” he whispers against your mouth, his lips ghosting over yours. This man really does know what he’s doing. 

“No thanks, I’m not a ‘put me on the spot’ type of gal.”

“Ah, you aren’t, are ya? Tha’s a new one,” he grins, laying kisses to your cold cheeks, spreading warmth in his trail. 

“Maybe you could tell me something, though.”

“Hmm?” he hums, the feeling of his smooth skin rubbing against yours entirely new to you, but you think you could get used to it. 

“Could you tell me that I’m worrying about my observation for nothing?”

His kisses come to an unnecessary end, but in the end you’re grateful to see his green eyes again, and all of the love they hold. 

“Ya are worryin’ ‘bout it fer nuthin’, bird. Promise ya yer gonna do great, ‘m so proud o’ you and tha great teacher ya’ve become,” he coos above you, tapping his finger to your nose. The words settle inside of you and begin to sink in. “And ‘m not jus’ sayin’ that, hope ya know how much I mean it.” 

*

You tried, and failed, to keep Harry’s words at the front of your mind throughout your day. When the worries would bubble up, you’d try to make them go away with his reassuring voice saying them. At times, it was strenuous, and quickly the idea of eating lunch after your observation seemed ridiculous. That word seemed to align with your day soon, seeing as the powerpoint for Jeopardy wouldn’t work at first, but you blamed the projector. Then as the minutes ticked by and brought you closer and closer to eleven o’clock, shakes started to radiate throughout your body. Your hands grew clammy and you wish it was over with before it even started. 

Your students for British Literature soon shuffled in, dropping backpacks on the floor with groans, itching for Christmas Break to come as well. You can’t help but agree with them, reminding them of this once they’re all seated and the last bell has rung. Inside your chest, your heart feels like it’s trying to break free from its cage as you anticipate a random colleague walking through your door. 

“Hello, everybody. We finished reading Frankenstein yesterday, and to prepare for our test on Monday, we’re going to do some review. I know you all have come to enjoy my Jeopardy games, so I made one for Frank and-,” your introduction to your class is cut off by a knock on your classroom door, making your heart jump inside your chest. “Excuse me, let me just get that first.” With a deep breath, you hurry to get the door, and that breath goes flying out the window when you see who’s on the other side. His name falls from your lips at the sight of him, a clipboard hugged to his chest. 

“Hi, ‘m here t’ observe you fer tha duration o’ yer lesson,” Harry announces, a professionalism coming over his voice, yet a cheekiness is heard at the edge of it. 

“You’re observing me?” you ask breathlessly, earning a proud nod from him. “O-okay.”

“Yer gonna do great, don’ worry ‘bout me. Jus’ ignore me sittin’ in tha back,” he whispers, his warm smile holding more words than the both of you know he can say right now. After a squeeze to your arm, he slips past you into the classroom, flared maroon pants billowing behind him. “Hullo, e’rybody. ‘m Mr. Styles from across tha hall, I also teach English here. Don’ mind me, ‘m jus’ observin’ yer lovely teacher fer a colleague review t’day. Carry on,” Harry says, addressing your class. Swallowing, the butterflies take a peek from their safety inside your chest, soon taking flight to rid you of your worries. 

“As I was saying, I made a Jeopardy game for Frank that we’ll play to review for the test on Monday,” you continue, folding your hands together to sit below your waist. You smile when the class erupts in applause, and even more so when your eyes flit to Harry whose found an empty desk at the back of the room. His head of curls lifts from being bent over the clipboard he writes on, sending you an encouraging wink. “So let’s take attendance to see how many there are of all of you, and I’ll split you up into teams. Then we can get started,” you finish, feeling his eyes on you. Although the pressure is still there, you feel at home in his presence and you don’t even mess up once during your lesson. 

Even if you had, you’re sure he could’ve fixed it with the winks, thumbs ups, and heart wrenching smiles he sends you from across the room.  

*

“So how did you manage observing me when you had a class during fourth, too? And how’d I do by the way?” you begin, wandering into Harry’s open classroom, the hallways almost empty after the end of the school day. Stopping in your tracks, confusion washes over you when the seat at his desk is empty. It would seem likely he had only stepped out, but it only gets weirder when his long coat isn’t found draped over his chair. “Okay then,” you mumble, returning to your classroom with questions blooming inside of you.

Thoughts are recalled in your mind about how odd Harry’s acted on a few occasions lately, namely his unusual disappearances after school. It’s hard to ignore as you work on the last few questions for the test for sophomore American Lit. You’re trying to think of questions from Walt Whitman’s Song of Myself, switching tracks after just focusing on Ralph Waldo Emerson’s Self-Reliance. Although not news to you, you steal a glance across the hall at his classroom that still lays undisturbed, longing for his help with a good Whitman question. Soon, you find your phone in your hands, typing up a text to him asking him where he is, because you need his help. Before exiting your messages, the gray thought bubble appears with an ellipsis, indicating his typing. You wait for a response, but after close to a minute, you forget your phone on your desk nearby.

Giving up, your attention wanders to your staff email. You occupy your time answering a few parent emails, then some staff emails, and reading the important ones from the principal regarding Christmas Break. Your eyes grow far more tired at the sight of one from him about upcoming final exams in January, a time that seems far off from now. As a teacher now, you know that’s not true, and you always have to be ahead of the game. It’s yet another thing you want to rack Harry’s brain about, unsure of how to even create a final, and what to include on it. All you can think of is how much you despised final exams in high school and university, finding little worth in them. You know that you don’t want to be hard on your students, because a cumulative exam is difficult, and a regular exam already is as well. While your desktop plays Disney and Pixar piano instrumentals, your thoughts drift to the few teachers you had who made their final exam less intimidating. Whether it was a test on just the most recent unit you learned, the last book you read as a class, or something silly like throwing wadded up paper balls into the recycling from ten feet away. 

Quickly, they’re disturbed by the twinkling of your cell phone, buzzing along your desk. A budding warmth trickles into your limbs when you see on it the goofy picture of Harry from a day at the beach last summer. New freckles covering his tanned skin, and all pink sunglasses donning his eyes. 

“Hey, where’d you escape to?” you answer casually, dragging your mouse over to pause your music, coming across a song from the movie Up. 

“Oh erm, had t’ run a quick errand. ‘m on me way back tho’, so what’re ya doin’?” Harry replies, clearing his throat which he never does, only when he’s nervous. You try to listen into his voice closer, but you don’t hear anything else besides that, so you try to push it away. 

“Finishing up my Transcidentalism Writers test. I was wondering what would be a good question, in your opinion, from Whitman’s Song of Myself?” you pose to him, your other hand falling from your computer mouse to prop your chin up. 

“Hmmm, tha’s a good question,” he titters, another sound echoing his words, but you can’t make out what it is in the background. “Ya could do a question ‘bout tha theme o’ tha poem, examples o’ figurative language, or ya could have a short response question where they summarize tha poem in their own thoughts, I s’pose. Ya could even- Shhh,” he finishes. He only makes you grow more and more curious as to what’s going on, and why you hear a whine in response. 

“Who are you talking to?” you laugh, narrowing your eyes at the wall you stare at lazily while talking to him. 

“Oh nobody, nobody. Do those erm questions help? Ya like ‘em, bird?” he responds hastily, brushing the strange occurrence away. 

“Okay, whatever you say, and yeah they help. Thank you.”

“Welcome. ‘m almost t’ me classroom, so ‘ll see ya soon, kay?”

“Okay,” you tell him before he hangs up. 

Yawning, you turn back to your computer and quickly write down those ideas in a Notepad document before you forget them. You’re in the middle of typing up the idea for a short response question when there’s a knock at your classroom door. Turning your head, you don’t see anybody at first, so you revert your attention back to your typing. 

“Yeah, who’s there? Harry, is that you?” you reply, your fingers dancing along the keyboard swiftly. 

“No, ‘s me,” Harry’s voice replies, but it’s distorted to sound different from his. It’s more high-pitched, very near to that of a child. Giggling, you look back over to your doorway to find a surprise. “Hi, ‘m a puppy. ‘m a Golden Retriever mix. I jus’ got adopted by me new daddy, Harry.”

“Oh my goodness!” you exclaim, hands flying to your mouth at the most adorable sight indeed. Held in Harry’s two hands, a tan Golden puppy is suspended in the air in your doorway. His tiny furry body squirms in your boyfriend’s hands, a short yip leaving his little mouth. “Harry!” you cry, rooted to your spot. Another exclamation leaves your lips when a yawn leaves the little puppy’s mouth, and then again when his long wagging tail enters your view. 

“‘m only eight weeks and daddy jus’ go’mme, so I don’ have a name yet, but ‘s nice t’ meet you. Me daddy ‘s thinkin’ o’ namin’ me Gatsby afta his favourite book. Whoops, I wasn’t s’posed t’ tell ya that, daddy says ya were s’posed t’ guess that on yer own. Anyways, my daddy and I wanted t’ ask you if ya’ll be my new mummy? He was also wonderin’ if ya wanted t’ come an’ live with us, since daddy told me yer lease ‘s up soon. I dunno what dat ‘s, but what d’ya say? I know we’d have loads o’ fun togetha, and ‘m jus’ so darn cute!” Harry continues in his child-like voice, speaking for the new puppy. Tears soon blur your eyes, but you blink them away quickly so as to not lose sight of the irresistible puppy. 

“Harry!” you cry, getting to your feet and dashing in your heels to the doorway, finding him bringing the puppy to his chest. 

“Hi, birdy. I see ya’ve met me new puppy, or . . our new puppy,” he smirks before you, hitting you with another wave of emotions at his darling words. “Sorry, I didn’t tell ya ‘bout him sooner. This ‘s what’s been takin’ up all me time dis week, and it all happened so fast. Wanted t’ surprise ya, and I think ‘s safe t’ say I have,” he chuckles, removing a hand from around the puppy’s pink belly to wipe the tears from under your eyes. 

“It’s okay. Oh my goodness, look at him,” you almost whine in that voice you use around babies, bringing your hands to his fluffy fur. He turns his head towards you and his tiny black nose wiggles as he sniffs at the air around you. “Hi, little guy. Can I be your new mummy, is that okay with you?”

“‘Course it ‘s, was kinda bettin’ on it. Knew ya’d be a good mummy . . . Wish I could bring him t’ school on Monday, but my sista said she’d take him fer tha day,” Harry coos, lifting your head with his voice. One of those big crinkly-eye smiles claims his face, disappearing from view when he presses a kiss to your lips. Your lips move with his, fingers getting lost in his hair, but it’s over quickly when you start to hear barking below you. “Heeeeey, ‘s okay, li’l guy. I can kiss mummy, if I want t’. What d’ya think, Gatbsy, hmmm? Mummy said she’d make us pizzas t’morrow. Already turnin’ out t’ be a good mummy, isn’t she now?” 

Laughs coat the both of your lips as he lifts the puppy into the air for the both of you to look at. They echo throughout the room when Gatsby wiggles in his arms, moving his gangly legs wildly as if trying to swim through the air. 

“Oh, Harry,” you sigh, encircling his middle with your arms. The puppy returns to his side, and his left arm wanders to around your shoulders. His lips are cold against your forehead when they press a smooch there. You can’t help but to laugh again when the puppy inches over to you, sniffing all over you, long arms dangling over Harry’s. He reaches your face and begins to lick kisses along your cheeks, soon crawling into your arms with Harry’s help. 

“I think he likes his new mummy, I can’t blame him.”

“Oh I love him already,” you confess, losing your fingers in his long fur around his face, ears flopping all over the place. “And his daddy,” you blurt out, widening your wet eyes once the words escape your lips. Glancing over to Harry, somehow that smile has grown even larger, adorned by a fresh wash of pink along his cheeks. 

“You love me?” he murmurs slowly, hand soft against your shoulder, pressing you to his chest. You pause, unsure of how to read his reaction, but the sudden doubt falls away. You’re nodding before the words come, and you already see the effect they have on him. 

“Yeah, I know it’s only been a few months, but I do . . I love you, Harry,” you divulge, clutching the puppy to your chest who still spills kisses along your face and neck, licking up the tears that run down your cheeks. 

“I think he’s gonna hafta contain himself and gimme a turn kissing his mum . . ‘coz I love ya too, birdy, so much,” Harry hums, the smile leaking into his voice. You can even taste it on your lips when his touch yours, massaging yours gently, the smooth feeling of his skin still a surprise to you. 

“And, Harry?” you whisper, his eyes falling to yours, mumbling a question in response. “I’d love to move in with the two of you . . my boys,” you finally answer, watching the smile hike further up his cheeks. His delightful giggle surrounds you and soon a sweet yipping followed by puppy kisses to the both of your happy faces. 

Yeah, you could get used to this, all of it. 

[random-snippets]

Angsty Christmas Idea

I couldn’t get a whole story together here, but I had this thought I wanted to share (based heavily on @this-is-ske ‘s Angsty Virgil art. Also kind of a tiny bit of reference to I Wish For This by @sociallyawkward--fics)

This is like...excessively indulgently angsty my friends. No redeeming qualities to be found here. But enjoy the angst?

*

So like...imagine Virgil sitting out every Christmas because he assumed no one would want Anxiety there. He’d hide himself away and watch from the outskirts because he wished he could be there but he knew he’d just ruin things. 

Then we have the year of Accepting Anxiety, when they’ve finally learned his name and are actually being kinda nice to him for the first time ever. But Virgil still assumes they’re not gonna want him at Christmas, right? 

So the others are planning this big party in the mindscape, and they’ve been talking about it like...all December long. And Virgil’s there while they’re planning but he never chimes in, and when they ask his opinion on their plans he just shrugs and says, “Sure, sounds fine.” 

And then the day of the party arrives, and the others are scrambling around decorating and getting things ready and they ask Virgil to help so he does, but he’s really quiet and seems a little bit withdrawn. But the others just sort of assume it’s because he’s nervous about his first Christmas so they don’t say anything about it. 

Then the official time of the party rolls around. Patton announces it and Roman turns on all the lights at once and it’s all flashy and beautiful and super extra, right? And Virgil kinda smiles a little sadly, then says, “Have fun, guys,” and sinks out. 

And everyone’s like, “Wtf?” and they run upstairs to his room and find him just like...curled up on his bed, headphones on, back to the door, sniffling with tears just kinda slowly running down his cheeks. And everyone’s kinda stunned and can’t figure out what’s wrong so Patton approaches and lays a hand on his shoulder and Virgil turns around all startled like, “What happened? Is something wrong?” like thinking maybe he messed up something he was supposed to help with in the decorations or cooking or something, right?  

And it turns out all this time he didn’t realize he was invited to the party himself, but thought they’d want him to duck out the way he always did so he wouldn’t accidentally ruin anything. So he’s been there like...helping them plan and prepare for this party the whole time, but just assuming they’d want him to leave when the time came, because for real, no one wants Anxiety around at parties. So literally the whole build up to the party he’s been like...trying to be cheerful and happy because at least they let him help plan, and they seem interested in his opinion, and that’s kinda cool, right? Like who cares if he’s not actually at the party itself; everyone always says half the fun is the planning, and besides, him ducking out is probably the best gift he can give them. 

And the others are just like...floored by all of this, and they have to explain to Virgil that yes, planning is fun but the party itself is the best part, and holy crap of COURSE he’s invited, half the reason they wanted to have such a big party this year was to welcome him on his first official Christmas and they’re all just so heartbroken by the fact that he’d assume he wasn’t wanted when it was basically all for him. 

And then everyone has a good lil’ cry then they bring him downstairs but they decide that maybe a big fancy party isn’t what Virgil needs, so instead they recreate things and instead it’s the coziest lil’ family thing ever, with cocoa and PJs and Christmas movies and cuddles, and they stay up late and talk about what they want for Christmas and when it’s Virgil’s turn he just smiles shyly and his eyes are all watery and he just says, “I just want this.” 

And everyone hugs him and it’s the sappiest Christmas ever, yay. 

I dunno. Enjoy my over-the-top Christmas feels. 

[nogreatillusion]

2017, in Media I Adored

Here's a quick roundup of all the best things I watched, read, and listened to this year!

Watch:

Tig -- I don't know why it took me so long to get around to watching this documentary, but it made me so sad and so happy. I really loved it.

The Keepers -- Absolutely couldn't stop watching this docuseries investigating the unsolved murder of a nun in the 60s. So dark and so painful and so fascinating.

The Great British Baking Show -- Finally watched Season 4, which was, of course, lovely as always. It's the kindest, coziest show, most adorable show on television, and will ruin you for all other cooking shows.

The Big Sick -- Funny and tender! Two of my favorite things.

So Sharp -- Ugh I fucking love shows about competitive dance. This one has lots of good petty drama. It's basically the Reality TV version of Bring It On. I get that that's not for everyone.

The OA -- I don't actually binge-watch very many things but I watched this entire season in 1 weekend. Brilliant and strange! I loved it.

Lady Bird -- I've loved Greta Gerwig since I was a wee babe in film school, and I like that she's always pushing to make movies that are honest and unpretentious and heartfelt. Her work is genuine and her characters are earnest and I love that. I also adore Saoirse Ronan and I will watch her do anything, so this was an absolute pleasure.

Are You the One? -- Listen. Don't judge me. This MTV reality show is pure joy and I don't care who knows it. Here's the premise -- 10 men and 10 women are paired by producers, based on interviews and compatibility tests of some sort (doesn't matter, it's whatever). They all move into a house in an exotic locale and are not told who is their "perfect match" in the house. Each week they are given lots of alcohol, occasional theme parties, and silly challenges where they can win dates, and at the end of the week, they must all pair themselves up. They are told how many matches are correct, but not who those matches are. If you've ever played Mastermind, this is basically that, but with booty shorts, tequila shots, and a designated "boom boom room." If they can figure out all the matches in 10 weeks, they split 1 million dollars. I like to play along by making a spreadsheet where I track their guesses and try to figure out the correct matches before they do. It's the best.

Big Little Lies -- I don't really think this story was particularly amazing, but the actors are all so magnetic, it's impossible to look away. I mean, I enjoyed the story, although the twists weren't very surprising, but the real joy here is in watching these women interact and bring their characters to life. Also loved the costuming, the atmosphere, the set design, the music. It was just really beautiful, and walked such a fine line between drama and comedy with real grace.

Read:

The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up, by Marie Kondo -- 2017 was the year I really said enough is enough and got my shit cleared out and cleaned up. Ben and I donated bags and bags (like, car-loads!) of clothing, kitchenware, accessories, and miscellany to Goodwill. I was ready for a change, but I knew I needed something to push me over that edge, and this book was exactly the remedy.

Alias, Grace, by Margaret Atwood -- Has Margaret Atwood ever written a bad book? I love her, and all her complicated, introspective female characters.

Lit, by Mary Karr -- I could tell right away that I was going to love this book, so much so that I almost didn't want to begin because then I'd be that much closer to finishing. A frank and frankly lovely memoir of alcoholism, depression, motherhood, and writing.

Women in Clothes, by Sheila Heti, Heidi Julavits, and Leanne Shapton -- A thick and marvelous collection of interviews about personal style and why we wear what we wear. I thought it was brilliant! Such an effortless read, but filled with so much wisdom about the personas we cultivate and the rules we subject ourselves to, consciously or unconsciously.

Universal Harvester, by John Darnielle -- A true enigma. I debated whether or not to include this because I felt let down by the ending, or the absence of one. In the end I decided I like it very much because it puzzled and surprised me, and left me alone to sort things out. Also, one sentence was so utterly, carelessly masterful, it literally made me draw in my breath in shock, and that's certainly worth noting.

Tipping the Velvet, by Sarah Waters -- I loved this story. Sarah Waters is so particularly clever at weaving romantic, dramatic, plots rich with vivid historical details, and sensual love scenes.

Listen:

2017 was the year I got really into podcasts, so I'm going to focus there, and I'll post some music recommendations separately.

Reply All -- I listened to every single episode over the course of only a couple months. There are over 100, so that's a lot. If you haven't listened, the loose theme is The Internet. The hosts (Alex and PJ) and producers usually do some investigating, or they explain twitter memes, or they tell stories. The topics are almost never dry, Alex and PJ are funny and insightful, and they're good at keeping things moving (something that's very important to me in a podcast). It's intelligent, but not pretentious. If you're not sure where to start, I particularly recommend: #1 A Stranger Says I Love You, #27 The Fever, #29 The Takeover, #74 Making Friends, #79 Boy in Photo, #82 Hello, and #102 Long Distance.

S-Town -- Of course, of course. I was so enthralled by this podcast that I brought a speaker into the bathroom with me so that I could keep listening while taking a bath. Beautiful and hear-breaking, and unlike anything else I've heard.

Accused (Season 1) -- I think Serial awakened a particular need in our culture for investigative reporting, and for unraveling the particulars of murder cases. This isn't Serial, but it is very good.

You Made It Weird With Pete Holmes -- I listen to so much You Made It Weird these days that I literally talk about Pete Holmes like he's one of my pals. If you're unfamiliar, Pete is a comedian, but he's also keenly interested in other people, their creativity, and their belief systems. He's silly and open-hearted and very, very good at interviewing. The tone of the podcast really shifts according to who is being interviewed, although there are some constants throughout, and it leans toward humor. The Derek Delgaudio episode was very beautiful and interesting. The Jack Johnson episode was tranquil and tender. The Ana Gasteyer episode gave me an awful fit of the giggles at work. The Phoebe Robinson episode was chill and funny. I still think about the Glen Hansard episode all the time.

[annrandano]

Questions tag

Tagged by LA LYYYY @sailors-in-the-night​ 

Rules: answer all the questions, add one of your own and tag people

1. coke or pepsi? I usually drink coke, but that’s what I’m used to order. When I ask for a coke but I wouldn’t mind if instead of one they bring me a pepsi -if I’m explaining myself-.

2. disney or dreamworks? I don’t really mind, actually. I usually enjoy every animation film I watch, although I remember some dreamwork films in a really nostalgic way.

3. coffee or tea? Coffee, although some people would claim that what I drink is lightly-coffee-scented milk. Don’t listen to them.

4. books or movies? There was a time *looks back in time* in which I read a lot and enjoyed myself so much. Now I have some concentration stuff going on and I haven’t been able to read a book for pure pleasure over a year. So I’m picking movies because they have really helped me to get a distraction, but this one is a cruel choice.

5. windows or mac? Windows, I have never used mac.

6. dc or marvel? I don’t really care, I can’t really tell them apart.

7. xbox or playstation? Plaaaay.

8. dragon age or mass effect? I believe they’re videogames? I don’t know them :(

9. night owl or early riser? Night owl, though sometimes I wish I wasn’t.

10. cards or chess? Cards!

11. chocolate or vanilla? Vanilla <3

12. vans or converse? Shoes (?) I don’t really mind, I like both stiles.

13. Lavellan, Trevelyan, Cadash or Adaar? I don’t know who these people are *assumming they’re persons*

14. fluff or angst? I’m being such a masochistic person right now, but angst (with some happines on it please, and if it’s not too much a happy ending)

15. beach or forest? Forests!

16. dogs or cats? This is cruel.

17. clear skies or rain? Mainly clear skies, but rain from time to time.

18. cooking or eating out? Cookiiiiing!!!! 

19. spicy food or mild food? I wish I could stand spicy, but I can’t :(

20. halloween/samhain or solstice/yule/christmas? I get so nostalgic and happy and extremely excited in Christmas, so that’s it.

21. would you rather forever be a little too cold or a little too hot? Hmmmm, a little too cold? This has blown my mind.

22. if you could have a superpower, what would it be? I would like to be a water bender or to fly.

23. animation or live action? Animation!

24. paragon or renegade? I don’t really know what to say.

25. baths or showers? Showers, you can save more water that way  and you can choose the temperature at every moment.

26. team cap or team ironman? I don’t mind at all, I don’t know who’s on each team (apart from captain america and iron man xD)

27. fantasy or sci-fi? Too many cruel questions.

28. do you have three or four favourite quotes and if so, what are they?

I’m really bad at remembering that stuff, but I’ll write a quote I read today in twitter and rted:

“The real violence... the violence I realize was unforgivable is the violence that we do to ourselves when we are too afraid to be who we really are”

(I believe it’s from Sense8)

29. youtube or netflix? I get lost for hours in Youtube and I don’t regret.

30. harry potter or percy jackson? Haven’t read Percy Jackson, though I like the plot :( So Harry Potter.

31. when do you feel accomplished?  When I’m able to defeat my malevolent mind.

32. star wars or star trek? Star Wars.

33. paperback or hardback books? Hardbacks are really cool and it doesn’t get wrinkled (if that’s the word). Let’s ignore they are more expensive.

34. horror or rom-com? I’ll be masochistic again and say that I really like horror although I’ll probably end up not sleeping that night.

35. tv shows or movies? Tv shows.

36. favourite animal? I really like foxes.

37. favourite genre of music? Cruel questions.

38. Least favourite book? I can’t think of one now :(

39. favourite season? Autumn.

40. song that’s currently stuck in your head? The fucking KING JJ SONG *I look in the mirror the king looks back at me... I CAN RULE THE WORLD JJ JUST FOLLOW ME, I WILL BREAK THE WALLS NOW LOOK AT ME*

41. what kind of pajama’s do you wear? In summer I like really wide pajamas, in winter cozy and fluffy ones.

42. how many existential crises do you have on an average day? Who’s stalking me??

43. if you can only choose one song to be played at your funeral, what would it be? The song of the people, from Les mis.

44. favourite theme song to a TV show? I can’t choose, there are too many great intro songs.

45. harry potter movies or books? I think they can be enjoyed in different ways, both are great, although I loved the horcruxes background in the books that the movies skipped.

46. you can make your OTP become canon but you’ll forget that tumblr exists. will you do it? There are many fanarts in other places. Now, where’s my RemusxSirius REAL stuff?

47. do you play an instrument and if so, what is it? I used to play the piano and I’d like to play the guitar, but right now my only instrument is my voice.

48. what is the worst way to die? In a long and painful way, I believe.

49. if you could be entirely invisible for a day, what would you do? I wouldn’t spy on anybody because if they said something I wouldn’t like to hear I would regret it a lot. I guess I would enter really expensive places (theme parks, the movies and things like that).

50. if you could have personally witnessed anything in history what would it be? There are too many events I would like to see, how life in Ancient Egypt was, how people inhabited the monuments we keep from them today...

51. What is your coziest memory? Everytime that I feel my heart gets warm in a concious way.

52. What is the one thing you wish you could change about your country? Could the politicians stop being corrupt and actually do something for the well-being of the people and not just themselves??????

53. What Korean drama you like best? Awwwww, Ly <3 I love She was pretty and W, although this one was a little bit confusing.

54. Would you rather draw really good or write really good?

I’m not tagging anybody because I don’t really know many people here, so if someone reads this, feel free to do it!

[lauriesrpt]

🏠 - Here's a Throwback for you Jared & Rachel's house

oh, that throwback! just in case i would get too enthusiastic or descriptive (i mean, when am i not like that), i’ll hide the answer behind the read more. 

Send 🏠 and i’ll describe my muse’s house / living place! 

obviously, i picture it like the real life house. according to this article, from People’s magazine, it is a former military base. i assume it is only a one floor building. white walls, concrete and austere materials from roof to floor. other articles added photos, which confirms something i always imagined him living in: lots of windows. i picture jared as someone who pays a lot of attention to light and natural creativity that the sun brings inside, along with its good energy. i’d see him in the morning, just watching the sun rise up in the sky from one of the bay windows, soaking in the light. outside, there’d be a pool. a big one, but not surrounded by an oasis or anything of that sort. a pool, a couple of plants, grass and places to sit to tan nicely. 

i don’t imagine jared being a materialistic person when it comes to furnitures. so the apartment would not be cluttered with fancy couches and seats, but with art pieces. it would make up for the lack of vitality and for the lifeless white walls of this former air force base. however, i think he’d put in as much comfort as possible: the coziest of couch, the largest and softest of beds, great chairs perfect to crash in at anytimes, and certainly a large table for late night jams and unsuccessful cooking times. 

jared would probably change his decoration habit with rachel moving in. he would go easy on the explicit art pieces, would keep it to the ones he liked the most. he might be more keen to add framed pictures here and there, of him and the band, of jared and rachel, but mostly of rachel. pictures he could have snapped without her knowing, or pictures of great accomplishments of her life. it would bring a personalized side to the house that he would not dislike. 

apparently, his one-floor house does have a basement and this would be more than a traditional man cave. it’d become his cave for his band memories, instruments and other things from the past that he can’t let go of. i see those memories being packed in boxes, left unopened since they were put there. maybe there were a few objects from cameron or some things that reminded him of her. quite possibly, there would be bottles of alcohol kept under this mess that he forgot about for his own sake. while the first floor would be neat and less filled, the basement would keep its mysterious vibe from its previous occupation and become a sort of sanctuary. 

as for the rooms themselves, i picture it big: a big bathrub, even bigger shower. a big music studio where he’d write songs or record VyRT videos. and definitely a large room with a walk-in of some of his best fashion pieces, currently filled with outfits and products from gucci. his room would be made for sleep, and obviously that one other thing, but he would not spend time in it outside of those two purposes.