#sweater weather fanfiction

[stunningbitterness]

I want to slam my head through a window!!!!!

[sundropflowerr]

You, Me, and Our Tree | Steve Harrington

★ Warnings: no use of y/n, post s4 where there’s a happy ending, fluff, sweet domestic vibes, established relationship, holiday cheer, cozy moments, cute banter and playful teasing (especially about christmas trees), soft kisses, mutual affection, gentle kisses, light humor, with a dash of sarcasm, comforting moments, deep connection, and a touch of nostalgia, lots of christmas decorating chaos and mismatched ornaments, cuddling, the warmth of being in love, snowstorm, cozy apartment setting.

★ Summary: On a snowy December day, you and Steve curl up together to decorate a lopsided tree, laughter filling the air as you argue over the perfect placement for each ornament. It’s warm, it’s simple, and it feels like everything you wanted. 1.7k

★ Pairings: steve harrington x gn!reader

★ Fic Inspiration: “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” - Frank Sinatra

★ Dividers: thank you to @strangergraphics for the adorable divider, it’s greatly appreciated!

★ Author’s Note: i love christmas and i love steve so two and two together brought this love child. though short, i had a blast writing this. i need to set up a christmas tree with steve asap.

The first snowstorm of the season had rolled in sometime during the early hours of the morning, soft and steady, a blanket of white slowly swallowing Hawkins.

You hadn’t realized how bad it had gotten until a snowplow rattled by just before dawn, shaking the windows and dragging you out of sleep. By the time you got up for coffee, the street outside had disappeared beneath a foot of snow, the world outside pale and silent.

It was the kind of day you’d both hoped for—one where you could stay home, tangled in blankets, too lazy to do anything but exist together. Steve, being Steve, had insisted you stay inside, warm and cozy, while he braved the cold to get a Christmas tree for the two of you. He didn’t want you dealing with the snow or the chill, though you argued you’d be fine. But Steve was relentless, refusing to let you leave the comfort of your apartment.

That’s how you ended up here, curled up on the couch, waiting for him to return with the tree.

“Don’t slip and break your neck,” you’d said, still half-asleep, as Steve grabbed his coat that morning.

He turned to you, his usual overconfident grin spreading across his face. “I’ll be fine. It’s just snow. You think it’s gonna stop me?”

You weren’t sure whether to roll your eyes or smile. Three years together and you still couldn’t decide if Steve was brave or just plain stubborn.

Probably both.

When the buzzer crackled through the quiet of your apartment, you weren’t at all surprised—it was exactly what you’d been waiting for.

“Can you let me in? I’m freezing out here.”

Steve’s voice cut through the receiver, muffled and shivering, and you buzzed him in without a word. By the time you opened the door, he was halfway up the stairs, carrying a thin, lopsided Christmas tree under one arm like it weighed nothing at all.

“Ta-da,” he said, breathless and grinning, as he kicked the door shut behind him. Snowflakes dotted his hair and shoulders, melting into tiny drops. His nose and cheeks were pink from the cold, a scarf you knitted two years ago wound haphazardly around his neck. “Look at this beauty.”

“That’s what you call a beauty?” you asked, raising an eyebrow as you stepped aside to let him in.

Steve shot you a look as he leaned the tree against the wall, shaking snow out of his hair with one hand. “Don’t start. This guy’s perfect.”

“It’s leaning.”

“It’s got character,” he argued, already shedding his wet coat and boots by the door. His socks were damp, his jeans dusted with snow, and he looked entirely too proud of himself.

“Three years of this and you still pick the saddest-looking tree every time,” you teased, crossing your arms as he toed off his boots.

“Consistency’s important,” he said, straightening up and flashing you that grin that made your heart flip like it was ‘85 all over again. The grin you first fell for when you were both crammed into those stupid Scoops Ahoy uniforms, trading banter and ice cream scoops while monsters lurked under Hawkins.

Steve looked at the tree again, hands on his hips like a dad surveying a new lawn. “It’ll look better once we decorate it. Trust me.”

“Your track record isn’t great, Harrington.”

He ignored you, instead stepping closer, brushing his cold hands against your arms with a soft, teasing smile. “Missed me?”

“You’re freezing,” you muttered, but you didn’t step away. You never did. His hands were cold, his hair was wet, and he still managed to feel like home.

Before you could say anything else, Steve leaned down, his lips brushing softly against yours, a sweet, familiar kiss that felt like everything. His cold lips melted against yours, and for a moment, it was just the two of you—no snowstorm, no responsibilities, just him and you, wrapped up in the warmth of each other.

The tree didn’t take long to set up—mostly because Steve insisted on doing all the heavy lifting while you watched with an amused smile. By the time it was finally in the stand and mostly upright, he was on the floor, legs sprawled out, glaring up at the crooked branches like they’d personally wronged him.

“You think it leans more to the left or the right?” he asked.

“It’s pretty balanced,” you lied, trying to bite back a laugh.

Steve turned to you, his expression dry. “You’re lying. I can tell.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you replied, sinking onto the couch with a mug of hot chocolate in hand. “It’s perfect. Really.”

He squinted at you for another second before shaking his head with a chuckle. “Unbelievable.” But he stood anyway, brushing snow-dampened palms against his jeans as he moved toward you. “You’re lucky I’m in love with you, y’know.”

“You tell me that like it’s news,” you teased, and Steve dropped onto the couch beside you, letting out an exaggerated groan as he stretched his legs.

The two of you sat in comfortable silence for a while, mugs warm in your hands, the soft hum of the radiator filling the quiet. Outside, snow continued to fall, casting a pale glow through the window that made the room feel softer somehow, almost golden.

It was strange, you thought, how this had become your normal—Steve Harrington, tangled up on your couch, feet brushing yours under a blanket that barely covered the both of you. You remembered when all of this was still new: the way he’d knocked on your door that first Christmas after Starcourt, holding a scrappy little tree he’d picked out himself because, in his words, “Someone’s gotta keep the tradition going.”

That was three years ago. Back when you’d both been bruised, uncertain, and still trying to find something steady after everything you’d been through.

But now, as Steve leaned closer, stealing your blanket and grinning when you protested, you realized how far you’d come. How easy it was to love him after all these years.

“You know,” Steve murmured, his voice quieter now, “I think this might be the best tree yet.”

You tilted your head to look at him. “You say that every year.”

“Yeah, but I mean it this time.” He was still looking at the tree, his expression softer now, like he wasn’t really talking about the tree at all. “Just feels… right, y’know?”

You did know.

Decorating the tree turned into a whole production. Steve pulled the box of ornaments out of the hall closet, insisting on playing Christmas music from the cassette player on the bookshelf—old, crackly tunes that filled the apartment with warmth.

You handed him the lights first, watching as he tried (and failed) to untangle the string from the knot he’d stuffed it into last year.

“Why do you do this to yourself?” you asked, biting back a laugh as he scowled at the mess of wires.

“Because I’m an idiot,” Steve replied, deadpan.

“You said it, not me.”

Eventually, you took pity on him and helped untangle the mess. The two of you strung the lights together, Steve holding the tree steady while you wrapped the glowing strand around its crooked branches. By the time you plugged them in, the entire room felt warmer, the golden light spilling across the walls.

Steve grinned, hands on his hips as he admired your work. “Not bad.”

“You mean my work,” you corrected, bumping his shoulder as you reached for the ornaments.

The box was full of mismatched decorations you’d collected over the last few years: a little snowman you’d found at the flea market, a glittery star that Steve insisted on buying last year, even a couple of hand-painted ones from Dustin and Max. You handed them to Steve one at a time, watching as he placed them carefully on the branches, sticking his tongue out in concentration.

“You’re taking this very seriously,” you said, smirking.

“I’m a professional,” he replied without missing a beat.

You didn’t realize how close he’d gotten until you turned to hand him the last ornament, and he was already looking at you, that soft, lopsided smile on his face.

“What?” you asked, heart skipping.

“Nothing.” He shook his head slightly, still smiling. “Just happy.”

You paused, fingers brushing his as you handed him the ornament—an old glass bauble you’d found at Scoops one summer, forgotten in a box in the stockroom. You’d kept it ever since.

“Me too,” you said quietly.

Steve turned to hang the ornament, his movements gentle, almost reverent. When he stepped back, the tree glowed softly in the corner of the room, its crooked branches dripping with lights and mismatched baubles.

It was far from perfect, but it was yours.

Later, after dinner, the two of you ended up back on the couch, wrapped up in the same too-small blanket, watching the tree flicker in the dark. The apartment smelled like pine and leftover takeout, the kind of cozy warmth that made your eyelids heavy.

Steve’s arm was around you, his thumb tracing slow circles against your shoulder. You could feel him breathing, slow and steady, his cheek resting against the top of your head.

“You know what I was thinking?” he murmured after a while.

“Hm?”

“We should get a bigger place next year. Like, with a fireplace or something. I feel like we need one of those.”

You smiled, tilting your head up to look at him. “For what? Stockings?”

“And hot chocolate,” Steve replied, smirking. “And to impress everyone when they come over.”

“You mean the kids.”

“Yeah. And Robin.”

You laughed softly, curling closer into his side. “We’ll think about it.”

Steve hummed, his hand still moving gently against your arm. “Good. ‘Cause I was already looking at—”

“Steve.”

“Right, right.” He grinned, pressing a kiss against your forehead. “We’ll think about it.”

Outside, snow tapped faintly against the windows, the streetlights casting long shadows across the floor. And as you sat there, wrapped up in Steve and the quiet of your shared apartment, you realized there was nothing else you needed.

The tree might be crooked, the lights uneven, but everything about this felt perfect.

It always did, with him.

thank you so much for reading! please like/reblog or comment if you did, it would be greatly appreciated. have a great day!

[hearts4golbach]

can you write a Johnnie x fem reader fluff?

Sweater Weather.

Johnnie Guilbert x Fem!Reader.

shorter one shot based on "Sweater Weather." By The Neighborhood.

johnnie gripped my hand tightly, dragging me as we ran through the rain. i was giggling like maniac, getting more soaked by the second. the umbrella was no use at this point. johnnies makeup smeared, dripping slowly down his face along with mine.

"god damn, why can't we just go to the gas station in peace?" i squeel, swinging open the car door and jumping inside. i quickly started the car, making sure to turn on the heater so we wouldn't catch a cold.

he slid into the passenger seat as water dripped from the tips of his hair. chills ran down his spine, "jesus, fuck."

"i know," i put the car in reverse and sped down the road.

johnnie quickly connected his phone to the car and put our mixed playlist on shuffle. my current favorite song, 'Sweater Weather' by The Neighborhood, came on. It also happened to be our song.

"all i am is a man, i want the world in my hands."

johnnies hand made its way to my thigh, gently running his thumb over my rough jeans. "the weather is so pretty," i mention.

"i hate the beach, but i stand in California with my toes in the sand."

he looked over, admiring my semi-concentrated face as i paid attention to the road. his eyes trailed over my body. he always loved it whenever i wore my mother's hand-me-down maroon sweater. "i guess, but now my makeup is all fucked up," he complained sarcastically. "i love it whenever we go on drives in this kind of weather."

"Use the sleeves of my sweater. Let's have an adventure."

as we got off the main road, i moved one hand off the steering wheel and onto johnnies. his fingers intertwined with mine as i hummed along with the song. "I'd hate to say I'm dreading the summer, but it's never like this then." i looked towards johnnie, making eye contact as he smiled softly at me.

"Head in the clouds, but my gravity's centered."

"You're beautiful," he interrupts. my face heated up as i turned my attention back to the road, stopping for a red light. he leaned over, kissing my cheek gently. his hand snaked under my chin and turned my head towards him before pecking my lips.

"Touch my neck, and I'll touch yours, you in those little high waisted shorts, oh."

the light turned green, and i kept driving. johnnies leaned on the center console, his hand making its way back to my thigh. he had a soft smile on his face, making me blush. "Your smile is adorable," i commented before singing quietly with the song.

"she knows what i think about, and what i think about: one love, two mouths. one love, one house."

he placed soft, sweet kisses on my neck. my hand met his again as i rubbed circles with my thumb.

"No shirt, no blouse. just us, you find out."

we stopped at the gas station to get fountain drinks. johnnie kissed my forehead as we walked out, drinks in hand.

"Nothing that i wouldn't wanna tell you about, no."

sitting in the passenger seat once more, johnnie sighed contently. "i love you," i hummed.

"cause it's too cold for you here. and now, so let me hold both your hands in the holes of my sweater."

"i love you more," he cooed.

[guiltyasdave]

making forts under covers

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

A/N: Written for Mandy's Sweater Weather Writing Challenge by @she-likesorchids using the "Let's just stay in bed" prompt. This is my first time writing about Joel and also my first time writing at all in over a year, so I'm a little nervous, but I really wanted to put this out.

Word count: ~1.9k

Summary: You and Joel wake up to a gloomy fall morning and all you want to do is drink your morning coffee and stay in bed.

Warnings/Tags: post outbreak, Jackson era, fluff, unprotected p in v (don't do it, this isn’t the apocalypse), fingering, dirty talk, praise kink, so many pet names, Joel is a menace, tiny hints of dom!Joel but he's very soft, able-bodied reader, explicit 18+ content, MDNI! (let me know if I missed any)

You blink your eyes open to the gloomy light of an early fall morning and the sound of rain against the window. The air in the bedroom has a slight chill to it and you burrow deeper under the covers.

Joel is still asleep, laying on his side turned towards you.

You marvel at the sight of his handsome face, for once relaxed, his brow unfurrowed and his breath going slowly. You rarely see him like this; usually he's the one that rises before you do when you sleep over, waking you up with a cup of steaming coffee and a soft kiss to your forehead, mumbling, “G'mornin'” into your hair. Your relationship is still relatively new, and you like this routine that is slowly forming between the two of you, but you could also get used to waking up to him like this.

You take in his face for a few more moments, a small smile tugging at your lips, before you quietly slip out of his bed. Goosebumps errupt on your bare skin and you tug on the flannel that Joel discarded on the chair in the corner last night, enjoying the way that his smell clings to the fabric and engulfs you.

You pad down the stairs to the kitchen and busy yourself with preparing coffee for the both of you, then wander into the living room while it's brewing. You stop in front of his bookshelf and run your hands over the wood carving of an owl that you've admired several times before. The ability to craft something so detailed out of a simple piece of wood fascinates you, especially when you think about Joel and his large, strong hands, using them to make something this delicate.

You fill two cups of coffee, reveling in the feeling of comfort and cozyness that the smell of the hot liquid always brings you, then carry them back up to the bedroom where Joel is still asleep. You set one cup on his nightstand, take a sip from your own one and slip back under the sheets to snuggle up to Joel and nuzzle your face into his bare chest, inhaling his scent and enjoying the warmth that is radiating from his body.

Joel grumbles and wraps a strong arm around you, encompassing you further in his warmth and pressing a kiss to the crown of your head as he mutters, “Mornin' sweetheart,” his southern drawl more pronounced and his voice still heavy with sleep.

You shyly smile up at him, grateful that you're one of the few people who are allowed to look past his rough exterior and to catch glimpses of the gentleness inside him that one only get to see when you're this close to him, and whisper, “Good morning,” before stretching up in his arms to reach his mouth with your lips.

His grasp around your waist tightens and you giggle, pecking his lips again before you lean away and say, “I brought you coffee, for once.” He sits up against the headboard, pulling you with him until you're leaning against his chest, one of his arms slung around your shoulder while he picks up the cup with his free hand and lets you do the same, before he leans down to kiss your forehead again and murmurs, “Thank you, darlin'.”

You both sip on your coffees for a few minutes, enjoying the quiet morning. His fingers draw lazy circles on your arm and shoulder, his eyes falling down to the flannel that's halfway slipped off. “Nice shirt,” he drawls into your ear and you giggle.

“Thanks, it's new.”

He chuckles and tugs you closer as he finishes off his coffee, places both of your cups on the nightstand and carefully cups your face, tilting your chin up to kiss your mouth. The feeling of his big roughened palm on your cheek, combined with the gentle way he touches you, has butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

Joel deepens his kiss, his tongue dipping out and licking against your bottom lip, causing you to whimper softly and open your mouth for him as heat starts pooling inside of you and he pulls you on top of him.

“C'mere, darlin'.”

You melt into him as his strong arms wrap around you, his scent engulfing you and he's running his hands down your sides, leaving a trail of heat over your body as he slides the flannel completely off your body and dips his hands under the tank top that you slept in. Your lips connect again and you mewl into his mouth, your hips grinding down on him and his hold tightens around your waist, pressing you onto his growing hardness.

“Shhh, I got you,” he murmurs as his mouth moves down to your neck, nipping and sucking at the delicate skin there, causing you to shudder and sink your nails into his bare shoulders. He separates his mouth from your skin to push the tank top up and off your body, revealing your breasts and your already pebbled nipples. He groans softly and leans forward to suck on the soft skin there, your back arching and pressing yourself closer to him.

“Joel, please...” you whine, “I need...”

He leans back, his hands back on your sides, his thumbs brushing just below your breasts.

“Yeah? What d'you need, baby?”

You rock your hips against him, feeling his bulge press against your panties and another whimper falls from your lips.

“Need you Joel, please...”

It's almost embarrassing, how quickly he gets you to this point, but you can't bring yourself to care, not when he's this close, with his hands all over your body and his painfully handsome face right in front of you.

He smirks and pulls you into him again, murmuring, “Good girl, asking so nicely,” before he seals his lips back over yours and kisses you until you're breathless and squirming against him before he flips you over, his face hovering above yours. His hand travels down to your underwear and dips beneath the fabric, finding you already slick and swollen with need. He circles your clit slowly, making you gasp and buck your hips up against his hand.

“You're so pretty like this. Just ready and waitin' for me, aren't you?”

His hand trails down further, one finger dipping into your entrance.

“Y-yes, need you so badly, please Joel...”

He smirks, adding a second finger and slowly pumping them into you.

“I know, baby. Don't you worry, I'll take care of you. You're bein' so good for me.”

The praise makes you keen, the fact that this usually so stoically quiet man can't stop running his mouth when you're together like this, while he's reducing you to a blubbering mess that can barely get any words out.

You eagerly slip your hand into his underwear, wrapping your fingers around him, causing him to hiss and thrust into you particularly hard. You grab at his boxers, pulling them down his hips, wanting him as close as possible. He chuckles at your impatience but indulges you, the look in his eyes telling you that he's just as desperate for you as you are for him, helping you to get rid of his underwear and tugging yours off of you as well.

Joel grabs his hard length and slides it through your slick folds, causing you to moan and arch your hips up into his touch. He leans down and kisses you again, his cock nudging at your entrance as he whispers, “You want it, sweetheart?”, to which you respond with an eager nod. He tuts, cupping your face in his large hand.

“Words, baby. Tell me. Tell me what you want, how much you need it.”

You whine softly, feeling yourself blush at the thought of putting your desire into words.

“I- so much, Joel. Please, I- I need you to- to fuck me, please?”

You bite your lip and he groans softly, murmuring, “Good girl,” against your mouth as he pushes into you in one hard thrust, filling you to the brim.

You cry out as your walls clench around him, trying to adjust to the sudden intrusion, to the way he always feels so big inside of you, and the exquisite bliss that only Joel can bring you is taking over your body. Your hands grab at his shoulders, your nails digging into the skin and moans of his name falling from your mouth as he pounds into you with long, deep movements. His mouth finds your neck again, sucking hard and biting down on your skin, before soothing the sting with his tongue.

His arms wrap around you and he holds you close while he keeps thrusting into you, whispering into your ear.

“Fuck, you're such a dream... Feels good, yeah? This what you wanted?”

You nod frantically, one of your hands scratching down his back while the other grabs at the curls on his neck as you're barely able to form words.

“S-so good Joel, fuck, 's perfect...”

He hums in smug agreement, his thrusts becoming even deeper and his fingers sliding between your bodies to toy with your clit. The heat inside your body threatens to spill over at his touch and you moan loudly, your earlier inhibitions about voicing your needs wiped from your mind.

“Yes! Just there, please- please dont stop, oh god...”

He's rubbing precise circles over your clit, keeping his gaze on your face as your eyes glaze over, your moans growing even louder.

“That's it, good girl. So tight around me, fuck... Show me how pretty you come for me, go on. I know you can.”

Your jaw falls slack and your whole body trembles, your walls clenching rhythmically around him and soaking him in your wetness as your orgasm washes over you. He growls at the feeling of you pulsing around his cock and pounds into you a few more times before he pulls out and spills himself over your stomach.

He stills and his head falls forward, both of you panting hard and not moving for a few moments. He leans forward to kiss your cheek, smiling at your blissed out expression, before he gets up from the bed and pads to the bathroom. He returns with a washcloth and cleans you up, gently stroking your sides and making you hum happily.

When he's finished and collapses back beside you on the bed, you turn around, wrapping the both of you up in his blanket and pepper his face with kisses. “Good morning indeed,” you grin and he huffs, ruffling through your hair and pulling you tighter into his embrace.

“You got anything planned today?” he asks after a moment of peaceful silence and you shake your head.

“Nope, I'm all yours.”

“Good,” he smiles, letting your head rest on his chest and pulling the blanket up to your chin, so that you're entirely shielded from the slight chill in the air. Gloomy light filters into the room and you can still hear the rain splattering against the window. Joel kisses your forehead softly.

“Let's just stay in bed, then.”

banners/dividers by @saradika <3

[tardiskater]

I have never watched a single game of ice hockey in my life, but I will read and reread sweater weather like I'm the biggest fan in the world, I'm so invested in these stupid little imaginary games of ice hockey

[mikalilys]

life is starting to feel like I should reread crimson rivers and all the young dudes

[shiorimakibawrites]

Baking with Love

Last-minute final entry to Mandy's Sweater Weather Challenge presented by @she-likesorchids.

This one uses the prompts - baking/cooking together combined with the "You taste like cinnamon" and "Your hands are freezing."

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Word Count: 1,287

Summary: Matt Murdock and You make pumpkin bread and cookies.

Tags/ Warnings: Established Matt / Reader relationship, Tooth-rotting fluff

Tagging: @bellaxgiornata thought you might enjoy some Matty fluff.

Baking with Love

You sighed with relief when you entered Matt’s building. You were very happy to be out of the wind. It hadn’t been a long walk but your cheeks, nose, and ears felt like they had been scrapped raw by the biting wind. Your hands weren’t much better. You had tried to switch your tote between your hands so each got the chance to hide in your pocket but it hadn’t helped much.

The door to Matt’s apartment swung open just as you were about to reach for the knob. Matt, of course, having likely between aware of your approach for at least a block. He did this trick all the time but it still managed to make you jump each time. Judging by the grin on his face, Matt found your reaction just as amusing as he always did.

Along with any other time he sneaked up on you. Which happened a lot. Because in addition to being a lawyer, Matt was also a ninja. You keep threatening to make him wear a bell. Which only made him laugh harder. He is so lucky that he’s cute.

He looked especially cute today. First, he was smiling wide enough for the dimples to come out. That was always going to be adorable. Second, since he was at home and neither of you was planning to go anywhere until later, he hadn’t put on his dark glasses. So you got to see his lovely hazel eyes sparkling with mirth. Third, he was wearing a snuggle sweater.

Cable-knit and dark brown in color, it looked incredibly soft. You hoped you’d get to find out later. There were plans to snuggle together on the couch under the blankets, after the baking was done, but you knew how easily those plans could get disrupted for either lawyer or vigilante reasons.

If the former, you would sigh but accept the situation. Unless it was Burke, Winthrop, & Associates being themselves again. If you had to spent your snuggle time working through another pile of motions that dance right up to the edge of being frivolous from those bastards, you might actually kill someone.

As for the later . . . Daredevil might end up being the last of their worries. You might not have Matt’s fighting skills but you had connections. The benefit of feeding the local vigilantes like the semi-feral cats that they are. You could delegate your vengeance.

You also enjoyed how that sweater clung to those board shoulders and hinted at the solid muscle of his torso. That he had paired with jeans that showed off his perfect ass was just a bonus.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” Matt greeted you as he ushered you into his apartment. It was toasty warm in there. You sat down your tote on the bench and flexed your hands. Then winced. It might have been a short walk but it was long enough and air was cold enough to leave your hands stiff and aching.

You did another little startled jump when your hands were engulfed by Matt’s hands. His big, wonderfully warm hands. He started massaging the backs of your hands with his thumbs.

“Your hands are freezing,” he said. “Still can’t find your gloves?”

“No,” you said. And sighed. “I’ll find them eventually. I know they are somewhere in my apartment. They have to be.”

“Not giving up?” he asked, almost casual. As if we weren’t discussing the gloves he had given you for Christmas. The ones you distinctively remembered packing when you put away your fall and winter clothes this spring but were inexplicably missing from the box when you opened it last week.

“No,” you said firmly. “I really like those gloves. I’m not giving up on them.”

You silently prayed that Matt got the message that you weren’t just talking about your gloves.

“Thank you,” he said softly, squeezing your hands and looking a little misty-eyed.

You smiled. Looks like he got it. You squeezed his hands back. “Hey mister, where’s my kiss?”

He laughed as he dropped your hands in favor of cupping your face. His thumbs stroked your cheeks, then he leaned in and pressed his lips against yours. It was a slow but thorough kiss. The kind of kiss that soon had your hands gripping his upper arms. That sweater was just as soft as it looked. Definitely going to kill anyone who prevented snuggle time.

The unfortunate need for air meant the kiss had to end. You tried not to pout about that.

Matt kissed your forehead and murmured, “You taste like cinnamon.”

You hummed, then remembered. “The coffee cake has cinnamon in the streusel topping.”

“And you didn’t bring me any?” he asked with a mock pout.

“Sorry but I was running out of space in the tote,” you said. You leaned up and kissed his forehead. “Maybe one of these cold night, Daredevil will come to my apartment looking for a little snack.”

“Maybe he will,” Matt said with a grin. A grin that shifted into something coy. “And afterward, he might also have some cake.”

You felt your face get warm. Along with the first stirrings of arousal. Your voice was a little breathy when you answered, “Sounds like a plan. I look forward to seeing it in action.”

Matt smirked, the cocky smug one. He knew the effect he was having on you. But he let his hands fall away from your face. He stepped to the side of you and reached the tote bag. Curiously weighted it in one hand.

“What’s all in here?”

“Cookbook, mini-loaf pan, cookie sheets, parchment paper, pumpkin puree, apples –”

“I thought we making pumpkin bread?”

“We are but I saw a recipe that I want to try for apple cinnamon oatmeal cookies. Thought that we could make those too.”

“Those do sound good,” Matt said with smile.

You both got to work.

Since the whine of the motor in your hand-mixer, especially at point-blank range, made Matt wince, the butter and sugar would need to be creamed by hand. Since Matt had giant arm muscles and superhero stamina while you didn’t, you gave him that job.

While he did that, you peeled, cored, and chopped apples. Then tossed them with a little lemon juice to prevent them from oxidizing and because it enhanced the favor of the tart apples. You might occasionally gotten distracted by Matt’s . . . everything.

Like that play of muscles under that sweater while he did the creaming.

Or his ass when he had to bend down to retrieve a larger bowl – you had underestimated how big of a bowl you need for the pumpkin bread dough. Which, it seemed to you, happened a lot with pumpkin. At least it wasn’t pumpkin pie. You always seemed to end up with more batter than you had pie shells.

But what caught you eye the most was that sweet, dopey smile that kept returning to his face. This was the most relaxed you had seen Matt in a while. You supported what he did but that didn’t meant you liked seeing him frustrated and stressed.

But the soft, loving look in his eyes after you kissed his forehead and said “I love you” that – that really made your heart flutter. And it was in that moment that you knew you wanted to marry him.

Matt’s predication proved to be accurate. The cookies were delicious. You are definitely adding those to your fall treats, you thought as you snuggled against Matt on the couch. Your predication about the sweater was also accurate. It was wonderfully soft.

“What are we watching, sweetheart?” Matt asked. It was your turn to pick the movie.

“Hocus Pocus.”

Ending Note

They are making the pumpkin bread and cookies for Foggy, Karen, Marci, Claire as well as their circle of vigilante friends – the Defenders, Frank Castle, and Spider-Man.

[musicoftheheart]

me listening to smut chapters at work: 😐

me listening to fluff chapters at work: ☺🤭🥰

in other news, ive learned that i really need to read tags better before putting on a podfic, because for the first five minutes of the first smut chapter, i was more like: oh, okay that's... okay... oh okay.

[binvibin]

finally time for my monthly reread of sweater weather

[klairewritesthings]

So I demolished all of the cannon Sweater Weather content in like four days and have been reading fan content non stop since. So here's my little take on it. Thank you so much to @lumosinlove for creating this beautiful universe and letting us play in it. I would love any requests for other ideas, seriously I can't get enough of these hockey boys.

TW for overworking oneself to the point of collapse, mentions of nausea and vomiting (no one throws up), and general angst

Skate, strides long, smooth, fast but don't rush. Bounce the puck off the wall, catch it, cradle don't scoop, loop around the goal, shoot, ping, who misses the net without a fucking goalie, surely not a professional NHL player, go again, watch your lines, take the shot, what the fuck is wrong with you, Sirius leaning on the boards with that sleepy look in his eye, go again- wait, what?

Remus halted so hard and fast that if he hadn't been on artificial ice shavings would have sprayer all over his boyfriend. Remus panted, taking a panicked look at the clock that hung on the wall. Had he lost track of time? But no, 6:07 blinked at him in harsh red. Sirius never got up earlier than nine the morning after a game, which should have left Remus plenty of time to shower and sneak back into bed like nothing had happened.

"What are you doing up so early?" He gasped out, lungs heaving. Fuck, he ached. No, burned. His thighs were on fire, calves cramping, joints shaking at the mere act of holding himself up. Not to mention his shoulder twinging at every little twist and pull, forcing him to hold back a wince.

Sirius just rose an eyebrow, "I could be asking you the same thing." Remus shrugged, bypassing the question, knowing that actually I never went to sleep because I snuck out of our bedroom to watch two hours of tape and then run drills for three hours would not be an acceptable answer.

"How long have you been standing there?" How many open goals did you see me miss.

Sirius mimicked his shrug, maybe a little mockingly, and Remus swallowed thickly. So he was in trouble, then.

"I woke up and you weren't there." Remus licked his lips and tried to come up with an answer that wouldn't end in a fight. Sirius beat him to it. "Baby, what are you doing? You practically spent the whole night on the ice," If only you knew how true that was. "You need rest after a game like that."

"I just need to get this play right. I'm almost done, go back to bed." Sirius' eyes went from worried to hard in less than a heart beat, Remus shrinking under the heat of his gaze.

"Non."

"No?"

"Non, you're not going to get that play right, Remus." Remus nearly flinched. He knew he'd played badly last night, but to hear the unbelief from Sirius himself stung. Sirius' face softened a little, holding out his hand. "Come here, mon amour."

Remus hesitated for a moment, unsure, but eventually skated the distance to the board, his knees and ankles groaning in protest. Sirius took his hand, removing his glove and gently kissing his finger tips.

"You aren't going to get that play while you're still exhausted and over worked. Your body needs rest, baby. It can't work on empty. You taught me that." Remus closed his eyes, taking a breath and trying to hold back the tears that suddenly burned behind his eyes.

"I'm sorry."

"For what, love?"

"The game." The silence stretched on so long that he opened his eyes, Sirius' face blurring before him. He had that little furrow between his brows he only got when he was worried, or trying to figure out a particularly complex play.

"I'm not following." Remus' breath hitched and he could feel a lump growing in his throat.

"I missed your pass." Sirius' brow furrowed further.

"And? I missed a goal, Remus, it's hockey, it happens."

"Not to me." Sirius' eyebrows shot up, incredulous. Remus had to close his eyes against the judgement he was sure had to be brewing there. "It didn't use to happen to me... before." His voice had grown small, shaking. There was a pause, and then his face was being cradled between warm hands, callused from holding a stick all his life, fingers crooked from where they had bent around the shape of it. Warm lips pressed against his brow.

"Mon loup, you are an incredible hockey player. You were before, and you are now." Remus shook his head, feeling the first traitorous tears begin to slip down his face.

"I'm so out of practice, Sirius. I can't catch up all of you, I can't even catch up to myself, to what I used to be able to do."

"You don't need to catch up to anyone, you're already there. You played beautifully last night, you always do. We lost as a team. You cannot carry every loss by yourself, let us shoulder it with you, baby." Remus couldn't help but laugh a little, listing forward to rest his forehead against Sirius'.

"Now where have I heard that before?" Sirius smiled into the kiss he pressed against Remus' lips."

"A very wise physical therapist told me that." Remus chuckled, hand coming up to rest where Sirius' were gently cradling his neck, fingers running through the sweat damp hair that curled there. "Why don't we shower and go back to bed, ouis?" Remus nodded a little.

"Yeah, yeah, that sounds good." Sirius smiled, holding out a hand to help him over the boards.

Remus got one leg over before the world started spinning. Sirius caught him under the shoulders, taking most of Remus' weight while he tried to get his feet back under him.

"Merde," Sirius grunted out. "Baby, you okay?" Remus blinked hard, realizing the blurry halo surrounding his boyfriend's face wasn't just tears.

"Yeah... yeah sorry, I'm just a little..." Remus trailed off, body suddenly feeling heavy as black dots floated in his vision. He could hear Sirius' panicked voice, feel him lowering Remus to the ground, cupping the back of his head.

Remus felt like he was floating, vaguely feeling the ache of his sore body but unable to get it to move. He wasn't sure how long the world stayed out of focus, Sirius' strained words muffled. It felt like the TV static he remember zipping through his fingers when he touched the screen as a little kid.

Finally, slowly, things began to sharpen. Unfortunately that meant the pain in his legs and shoulder amplified ten fold. He couldn't help but let out a groan through clenched teeth.

"Remus, mon amour, can you hear me?" Remus went to nod but another wave of dizziness over took him, forcing himself to snap his eyes shut again and work through the growing nausea. He settled on a strained "Mhmm". He felt the gasped breath of relief over his flushed skin.

"Talk to me baby, what's happening? Do I need to call Hestia? Moody? An ambulance?" Sirius was sounding more and more panicked with each rambled word, hands flitting nervously over Remus' body as if he would break him.

Remus swallowed a few times, making sure he wasn't about to be sick, before grunting out, "M' fine." He squinted up at Sirius' face, unable to keep up with how quickly it was switching between incredibly worried and furious.

"You are not fine. You just collapsed." Sirius was angry, but Remus could hear the tears in his voice.

"I'm sorry". Sirius' face crumpled.

"No, baby, don't- don't be sorry, just tell me what to do." Remus nodded, licking at his chapped lips.

"Can you get me a gatorade?" Sirius slumped a little, seemingly relieved at having a task to complete.

"Yeah, yeah une seconde". He scrambled up, all of his usual grace disappeared, and jogged over to the stocked fridge they kept within reaching distance. In seconds he had returned, already uncapping a yellow gatorade. Remus couldn't help the little grin that quirked at his lips.

"My favorite."

"Of course. Here, let me help." Sirius rested a hand at Remus' back, slowly helping to sit him up before tilting the bottle to his lips.

Remus forced himself to take slow sips, even though he was suddenly so thirsty he felt like he was dying. He was pretty sure Sirius would combust if he threw up right now. The liquid soothed his throat and slowed the spinning of the world.

"Better?" Sirius asked, Remus humming in reply. They sat in silence for a few minutes, Sirius holding the bottle until Remus stopped shaking enough to grasp it on his own. He moved down to Remus' skates, beginning to untie them.

"How long have you been down here?" Sirius didn't look up from his task, and Remus was grateful for the space he was being granted.

"A few hours." Sirius winced, but just slid his first boot off.

"Did you sleep?"

"Not really."

"Eat?"

"...No." Sirius' eyes slipped shut, hands resting on Remus' ankles as he drew in a deep breath. Finally, he looked up at, grey eyes imploring.

"Baby, do you know how dangerous that is?"

"It wasn't that bad". The words felt week, even to himself.

"You could have hurt yourself, love. Or what if I hadn't been here? Do you know how terrifying it would have been to come down here and find you like that?" Tears prickled at the back of Remus' eyes.

"I'm sorry." Sirius sighed, Moving up to sit between Remus' thighs, legs bent to rest on either side of him. Remus all but slumped forward into the embrace, melting into the feeling of Sirius' hands working out the knots in his curls.

"You can't do that. You can't punish yourself, and you can't beet your body into submission. Trust me, I've tried, it doesn't work." Remus sniffled, hiding in the soft skin of Sirius' neck.

"I know." Sirius' arms tightened around him.

"Let me help, ouis? If you want to run drills we'll rest and then do it together. Okay?" Remus nodded, relaxing further as Sirius pressed a kiss to his temple. "Tell me when you're ready and we'll get you something to eat and get you to bed."

"Okay, just... Give me a minute."

"We have all the time in the world, love."

[moonloup]

SEE THIS IS WHY I DONT SAY ANYTHING

[justchamomiletea]

you cannot tell me that the alchemy by taylor swift is not about remus and sirius from sweater weather by lumosinlove on ao3. you simply cannot tell me otherwise. i won't believe you.

[lifeofafangirl1]

Stop cause Duplicity literally had such an impact on me that even if I hear the songs I start to get nostalgic whiplash.

[inexplicablymine]

WIP WEDNESDAY

It is the first WIP WEDNESDAY of 2024 and in preparation for the start of the new year I have something fun for you!!! All of my WIP posts going forward into this next year will be for multichapter works that I have coming out sometime in 2024.

So for today, a current shortlist of multichapter works coming out + some little snippets

Giftmas

12 fics of Giftmas: 9 one shot works left to post that will resume in a “10 days of posting in a row” festivities once I am settled into my new home in a new country after a very abrupt move over the holidays

Looking for Orion

6 CH | art by @okayandre_art

5+1 Alive Arthur fic, five times Henry had important conversations with Arthur while hunting for Orion and one time Alex did. You can read my snippet here.

Olympic Proportions

3 work follow up | art by @noodles_and_tea

follow ups to my fic Because I’m A Scoundrel following the boys on their Olympic journeys to Paris 2024 (in real time) with the qualifying events and the Olympics themselves

Mind Over Matter

14 CH | Canon Divergence

Magical Mindreading AU; when Alex is granted the gift of being able to hear thoughts about him from those he is most compatible with, everything goes… slightly different.

Sweater Weather

9 CH | Letters Focused

Childhood Best Friends to Lovers over the course of their first year in college on opposite coasts as D1 Soccer players (yes it is football I know, apologies, they are playing in the US)

the ties that bond us

10 CH | art by literally almost everyone (not kidding)

Bond/Q actor AU following the boys over the ups and downs of shooting and promoting a new Bond trilogy and the epistolary view from the outside world as they get together!

[Redacted] co write with @celaestis1

15 CH | Dual POV

Strangers to Lovers AU, what happens when you don’t have that DTR, and the hilarious differences in the understanding of “what are we”

Ice Ice Baby

37 CH | Zukka | ATLA | art will be commissioned by @jasminedragonart

Olympic Figure Skating AU that follows the gangs journey over nearly a decade in the limelight. Yes that’s right. A full length ATLA work that has been outlined for 2+ years. I figured it was time. ;)

[redacted] for The Pairing

… yes that’s right I already have an idea for a work 👀 can’t wait to get my hands on the book and languish in it

Thank you to everyone recently for the tags in the end of year games ~ I have just complied them ALL below both as a thank you for tagging me and a tag back + some amazing wonderful people I would like to see how you are doing in this new year <33 (also open tag PLS SHOW ME THE THINGS!!!)

I am in the middle of an abrupt move and have not been as present taking care of those pesky real life things that adults must partake in.

@absolute-audacity @adreamareads @affectionatelyrs @alasse9 @anchoredarchangel @anincompletelist @arand0mdutchgirl @athousandrooms @babiemonk @celeritas2997 @cityofdownwardspirals @clottedcreamfudge @cricketnationrise @cha-melodius @14carrotghoul @dumbpeachjuice @daisymae-12 @everwitch-magiks @firenati0n @gayrootvegetable @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @happiness-of-the-pursuit @heartitinthesilence @historicallysam @hypnostheory @iboatedhere @indomitable-love @kiwiana-writes @leaves-of-laurelin @matherines @nontoxic-writes @orchidscript @onward--upward @peachesobviously @read-and-write- @rockyroadkylers @raysletters @smc-27 @saintlynomenclature @suseagull04 @songliili @three-drink-amy @tintagel-or-cockleshells @treluna4 @vonpeepsisback @welcometololaland @xthelastknownsurvivorx @zwiazdziarka

And there are more but I am limited by tagging conventions shakes fist

[nerds-worlds-blog]

Do you ever just read the most cutest, cheesiest, sweetest like about your two favourite characters that makes you want to claw you throat out?

[flowerhawk-highinthesky]

Sometimes you just need your own version of the Gryffindor Lions pride jersey

And what better excuse to use my embroidery machine for the second time (yes this is an older project) 😅