#the way to my heart is chocolate by the way

[coffee-and-geto]

LET ME WARM YOU UP

summary: satoru comes home after an early morning when he went to the bakery to buy you some pastries, frozen to the bone by the biting early december cold. doesn’t he deserve to find you under the warm comforter where your warm presence hides?

cw: fluff, domestic, gojo has his nose pink from the cold, he’s silly, needy and so in love <3, i have put some pastries i know bc i’m french but ignore them if you don’t like croissant (what’s on ur mind) or pain au chocolat (i agree on this).

wc: 721

When Satoru enters the bakery — his body draped in a long coat, head wrapped in a knit cap, and half his face hidden behind a large scarf — the gentle chime of the entrance bell feels like a sweet melody mingling with the warm, sugary scent of the quiet, early-morning haven.

Behind the sparkling glass displays are heaps of pastries that make his mouth water. From chocolate croissants to apple turnovers, the variety of treats teases his senses as he approaches the kind, tiny baker, who barely reaches his chest.

“Good morning, young man,” she coos like a grandmother, tilting her head up to look at him. “Feeling like something sweet this early?”

Six o’clock in the morning — was it too early?

Satoru would camp outside the bakery if it meant sharing pastries with you.

He hums thoughtfully. “I’d like a brioche, a chocolate croissant, a croissant, an éclair, and a strawberry tart,” he says, distracted by the vibrant colors tempting him to buy out the entire bakery.

The baker grabs a bag and carefully places his order inside, smiling warmly.

“Will that be all, young man?”

Satoru nods.

“Alright.” She names the total price and hands him the large bag once he pays. “Are you planning to eat all of this yourself, young man?”

A smile capable of melting ice stretches across Satoru’s face, despite being hidden behind his scarf. “I’ll share it with my girlfriend.”

“Oh, that’s so sweet of you.” After he pays, the baker hands him a blue lollipop, the kind that colors your tongue. “A boy like you, who takes such good care of his loved ones, deserves this.”

Satoru accepts it with a word of thanks before heading home, where you’re unknowingly waiting for him, still tucked beneath the warm covers of your bed.

He enters the apartment silently, closing the door with care and removing his shoes and coat in near-perfect quiet. In the kitchen, he wastes no time arranging a breakfast tray, loading it with the pastries he bought and a cup of tea and coffee.

He performs the task with an adorably proud smile, humming cheerfully at the thought of sharing a warm breakfast with you under the blanket, where you’d thaw his December-chilled body.

With the tray prepared to perfection, he carries it to the bedside table and sets it down gently before slipping into the bed. The combination of the soft blanket and your warmth, still lingering in the sheets, begins to ease the cold from his body. His stiff, frozen arms wrap around you, rousing you from sleep.

“Toru?” you whisper, your eyes fluttering open as a yawn escapes your lips.

“Morning, sweetheart,” Satoru murmurs into the crook of your warm neck.

You shiver at how cold he feels. “Did you go out?” You turn to wrap your arms around him, planting a kiss on his nose, pink from the cold.

“Brought pastries,” he hums. “Wanna eat with me?” He blinks at you cutely, his snow-dusted lashes framing eyes as deep and blue as the ocean.

“You did?” The corners of your mouth turn down as you pull him closer. Satoru’s habit of buying things for you without needing to be asked makes your heart ache in the sweetest way. “Of course, my love.” You pepper kisses all over his face. “Love you so much.”

He grins so cutely you want to crush his head in your arms.

Minutes later, you’re both sitting up in bed, the makeshift tray perched on your shared lap as you indulge in a perfect breakfast.

Through the bedroom window, the first snowflakes of December fall onto the balcony, covering it in a white blanket that matches your lover’s hair. The sky, equally white, might’ve seemed dull and cold, but sitting beside Satoru, who is devouring almost all the pastries, brightens the weather.

Once your stomachs are full, Satoru burrows under the blanket, pressing his face against your pajama-clad stomach. A giggle escapes you, your chest shaking gently with the sound.

“What are you doing?” you ask, raising a playful eyebrow.

“Cuddling,” he mumbles, his voice muffled by the comforter.

“You look more like a whiny cat, you know.”

“If a whiny cat gets cuddles, then I am one.”

Your laughter bubbles over, warming Satoru, who nearly purrs as your fingers scratch at his scalp.

a/n: hello guys :)) i know it’s been like two weeks w/ anything but let’s forget that, hmm? so 1st december is the birthday of my bsf haha and sadly the end of fall for me... (i’m depressed bc of this). but, i’m in the mood to write everything fluffy, etc. (saying this while my brain is mentally preparing a big angsty fic for the coming weeks bwahahaha). hope you guys have a nice week and see you soon <33

likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated <3

tags: @ssetsuka @zara-zara11 @bearwithmoo @elliesndg @lymsfm @mutsu422

@drippymcdrippison @koshhin @v31v3t @wawuwe @cybersomniq @sanemistar

@monokaix

[withmyloveasyourgarden]

NINE YEARS LATE

EDDIE MUNSON x F!READER

A yearly Halloween tradition, zombie films and best friends who touch too much for it to not mean anything. 4K of fluff. [Re-uploaded from my old blog]

When you met Eddie Munson at eleven years old, he pointed at your exorcist t-shirt and asked what your favourite horror movie was.

To anyone else it might have been strange, the way the boy's eyes were so bright, his expression caught between nervous and excited like nothing else at that time was more important than the answer you were about to give.

But you gave it with a shy grin and without hesitation, watching a little stunned as the boy brightened and his lips stretched wide into a beaming smile that, even then, left your heart warm and you completely powerless to resist the hand that circled your wrist and yanked you down onto the grass beside him.

He took a cookie from his lunchbox and pressed it into your hand, skin smudged with chocolate and pride in his voice when he told you how he had sneakily watched Night of the Living Dead when his uncle wasn't home and that was now his favourite.

You wrinkled your nose a little as you ate, unable to help the reaction because you didn't understand the zombie appeal, cheeks flushing when Eddie caught it too and threw both hands to his chest, his back hitting the ground with a thud as he flung himself down, like you'd personally betrayed everything he held dear.

"Don't tell me you don't like zombies!" He'd gasped in horror, struggling not to grin when he lifted himself up on his elbows and noticed, far too pleased, that despite the way you had hid your face in your hands, there was a telltale smile in your voice at his theatrics.

"I don't not like them exactly." You countered, eyes appearing above your fingers to watch the way the boy snorted and quirked a disbelieving brow in your direction before you allowed your hands to fall away, huffing. "I mean it! It's not that I hate them or anything, they just give me creeps."

He nodded at your shirt. "And demonic possession doesn't?"

"No?"

'Weirdo." He mumbled, voice soft, and then almost immediately winced, his eyes darting worriedly to yours because what if you didn't catch the way his tone turned fond as he said it? He didn't want you to think he was being mean like so many other kids were in Hawkins when someone wasn't like them.

But then you laughed, the sound clear and sweet, and there was relief in Eddie's chest mixed with a little awe, something innocently adoring because even though he would never admit it, he was pretty sure that was his new favourite sound in the whole world.

'Says the boy who thinks a zombie movie is the best horror." You teased, tongue poking out at him when he shook his head and aimed a playful little kick to your leg, scuffed trainers nudging at your thigh.

There was a moment of easy silence that followed, a few beats where the two of you shared soft, toothy grins before the boy ducked his head and you tipped yours back to gaze at the cloudy autumn sky, fingers twisting in the grass whilst joy swirled in your chests at this new found friendship.

It was impossible to miss the exact second he had the idea, the way he scrambled to sit upright, all long arms and gangly legs because even back then Eddie had been tall for his age. The grin that stretched his cheeks was wild, excitement crackling from him as he scooted closer until he was sat directly in front of you, knees brushing against yours.

"There's only one way to settle this." He blurted suddenly, pleased when your startled gaze turned instantly curious, body leaning forward to signal he had your full attention. "We have a movie marathon. You can come to mine and we can watch both of our favourites and maybe a few more and then we rank them."

You nodded slow, thoughtful , the sharp trill of the bell signalling the end of recess making you jump and Eddie groan. "Okay. That sounds fun. But what if we can't agree on what ranks first?"

Eddie rose ungracefully to his feet and you had to shield your eyes from the low burning sun when you looked up at him, light dousing him in gold that made his eyes look like pools of warm caramel when he grinned down at you and offered you his hand.

"Then we keep having marathons until we do."

**

Nine years later and you Eddie still hadn't agreed.

You were beginning to think you never would. Or maybe even if by some miracle you did, you still wouldn't tell the boy that had become your best friend the moment he'd asked you that question in the playground.

Because it had become your tradition now. These marathons that you had every October 1st without fail because that was the same date that you showed up at Eddie's door for the very first time, a box of cookies in your hand that your mom had sent you over with and a beaming smile that had matched his when he'd flung the door wide open and pulled you inside.

You weren't sure when it became your favourite day of the year or when Eddie became your favourite person but it did and so did he. Never happier than when you were surrounded by warm blankets with a hot chocolate cradled in your hands.

There was always plates piled with freshly baked goods on your laps, movies playing that you sometimes wouldn't remember the names of after and your face pressed to the boy's collarbone when things occasionally got too scary. His arm looped around your shoulder so he could murmur, soft and sweet, against your hair. "It's okay, it's nearly over."

You also weren't too sure when your feelings for your best friend began to change, only that they most definitely had.

He was still the same Eddie, your Eddie. He was big, warm eyes and startlingly pretty grins, an energy that made you think of bottled lightning, the kind you couldn’t tear your eyes away from, beautiful and utterly unruly.

He was all-encompassing hugs, tangled limbs in a too small bed when one of you stayed the night because even if you were to lay at the other end, the boy would somehow still find his way to you in his sleep, strong arms pulling you tight to his chest and a happy sigh on his lips.

But somewhere through the years, through the horrors that started on the screen where they should have stayed but then seemed to leech into your real lives, the familiar touches came more frequently and hands lingered long enough that it caused pulses to spike. Hugs got a little longer too, a little tighter.

There was a reluctance to let go when mornings came around, no longer shy or embarrassed when streams of pinkish gold filtered through the window and stirred you awake only to find the two of you were once again moulded around each other, fingers linked between your bodies.

Instead it felt right, like that was how you belonged. A Feeling that only grew with each year that passed.

Each October 1st that you refused any other plans because this was yours and Eddie's day. Every time you turned up to the other's homes, sitting a little too close on the couch than was considered friendly, eyes drifting to watch each other instead of whichever person was fighting for their lives on the tv when you thought you wouldn't get caught.

It grew, blooming wild and stubborn in your chest, snaking around each rib, until you were forced to admit to yourself that you were in love with him.

And that scared you more than any horror movie ever could.

**

"Sweetheart, you're supposed to be watching this, not hiding through the whole thing."

The admonishment in Eddie's voice was weak - too soft to be truly serious and even if you couldn't tell by the boy's tone, the way he grinned at you when you finally lowered your mug, with what he thought was the most adorable pout on your face, immediately gave him away.

It made you poke your toes into his jean clad thigh in retaliation, a choking gasp of faux betrayal bubbling past your lips when he caught at your ankle and tickled your foot with quick fingers before you could yank it back under the safety of the blanket he'd thrown over you earlier.

You were a lot less mad than you would have been had it been anyone else and christ if Eddie didn't know it, his eyes bright even in the low flickering light of the room and the pillow of his lower lip caught between his teeth to choke down a laugh as he threateningly wriggled his fingers at you once again.

Glaring at the boy across from you, there was a half hearted grumble to your voice when you aimed a nod towards the person being ripped apart by the undead horde on the screen and told him. "You know this wouldn't be a problem if you didn't bring a zombie movie nearly every year."

The noise he made in response told you that wasn't going to happen. But as he leant forward, stretching over to the coffee table to grab a cookie that he then practically inhaled, you could feel his eyes on you. The way he was silently checking if you actually thought the movie was too much or if you were just playing up because you liked to mess with him.

"You want me to turn it off? We could put the next movie on?" He asked in the way he always did, a little teasing but still sweet, touched with hope because you both knew what he would ask next when you shook your head, determined like you always were to sit through the movie just because Eddie loved it.

And you tried to not let it show on your face the way your heart fluttered and swooped in the cage your ribs when he opened his arms the moment you gave your answer, looking far more enticing than you thought a best friend ever should.

All wrapped in a large sweater with sleeves that drooped over his ringed fingers, cosy blankets tossed over his lap and curls still messy from the weather outside.

It really was unfair just how fucking pretty Eddie was.

"Wanna come here?" He murmured in a way that made your cheeks warm, your pulse jumping from fear that he'd caught the way you were staring and his lips tugging up into a soft grin when he added. "Promise I'll keep you safe from zombies."

You narrowed your eyes like it was an offer that you needed to consider - something that took a ridiculous effort considering how badly you suddenly ached to fall into the boy.

In return he rolled his own at the suspicious gaze that you flicked over him - from his fondly exasperated expression to the hands that made impatient little grabbing motions whilst you fought back a smile and warned. "Only if you don't tickle me again."

There was a soft snort when he laughed, grin turning impish as he took matters into his own hands and reached over to pluck your mug from your fingers, placing it on the table before catching you in a gentle grip. "I swear on Dustin's mother I won't tickle you again. Now c'mere."

And so you went - with a shake of your head to hide your smile, you let yourself be pulled into him.

Desperately trying to ignore the way your skin buzzed beneath his touch as he lifted the blanket and folded you tight into his side, waiting for you to throw your arm around his waist and swing your legs over his lap until there was no part of you left that wasn't pressed up against him.

He looked like he was trying and failing to hide how pleased he was as he drew the blanket over the two of you and you all but melted in his arms. Corners of his lips quirking and a soft dusting of pink creeping over his cheeks when his hand automatically began stroking over your hair and you let slip a quiet little sound that was half sigh, half moan - his body still burning despite the innocence of it.

For a little while after that an easy silence fell over you both, a sense of contentment that couldn't be broken by the sounds of gore that came from the screen.

Eddie smelt like Autumn with every slow inhale you took, like cold, night air and smoke, spice from the cologne you bought him two birthdays ago and the cinnamon off the pastries you'd baked especially for that night that he'd almost completely devoured within half an hour of sitting down.

He was warm in a way that felt like safety when he wrapped you up in him like this and it was all too easy to forget how much the movie had previously made your stomach turn slightly. Now barely even batting an eye when somebody screamed because you were too happy being lulled by the rise and fall of Eddie's chest beneath your cheek and the weight of his head rested atop of your own.

You watched the screen with an almost foggy type of interest. A little dazed by the hand that had previously been playing with your hair now slipping down, fingers dancing over the nape of your neck and down your spine to where it eventually stopped. Palm moulded flat to the dip in your back - the heat of it searing through your shirt.

His other hand was curved around your knee - thumb stroking soft circles on the inside that made a tremor sweep over your skin.

It took you far too long to realise when he eventually spoke, oblivious to his smile, the question he pressed to your hair at your shiver, until your trance was broken by the rumble of a soft laugh when a beat too long passed without any response.

Gentle fingers that had previously been resting on your knee were now hooking beneath your chin, tilting your gaze to meet his as he dipped his head to look at you in a way that made your mouth run dry.

"Still with me there sweetheart?" He asked. Voice low, hushed, a little rougher and less teasing than you think he had intended it to be.

And suddenly the room felt a little warmer than before, an electricity present that crackled in the limited space between your bodies.

You swallowed hard, stomach twisting, the sounds of horror in the background fading to a mere hum as you nodded. Your breath hitched when your nose brushed his but you made no move to pull back and if the boy heard it, he didn't say anything. "M'here." You whispered. "What- what did you say?"

In the near-dark you watched him bite back a strained smile, curls bouncing as he shook his head ever so slightly, not at you, but at the way he suddenly felt tongue tied. Frozen with his fingers still cupping your chin and his mind alarmingly blank because you were just so close and fuck, what was it that he'd said again?

"I uh," He stumbled, words a little awkward as he attempted to subtly clear his throat." I was just wondering how you can't watch a zombie movie without hiding behind me, which to be clear, I am not complaining about , but when we got attacked by demon bats you were totally fucking fearless."

You felt flushed at how awestruck he sounded, gaze lowering and your hand coming to clasp his wrist, touch gentle on the scars that only recently healed there. "I was hardly fearless Eds." You muttered.

But the boy was already tutting, an argument ready on his tongue before you could finish your dismissal.

"Babe, I watched you decapitate one of those things with an oar like it was nothing." He grinned, feeling a little more daring as he grazed his thumb just below your lip, eyes dark on you as your lashes fluttered and you swayed further into the touch. "It was the most metal thing I've ever seen, maybe the hottest too."

He added the last part like a whisper and maybe it was the way you felt too fuzzy, not quite connected to your brain - a little too lovesick and touch-drunk from the way Eddie was surrounding you. The words that set your blood alight.

Or maybe it was just that the credits were rolling on a movie the two of you had barely watched because you'd been too focused on each other, the room falling into the type of darkness that made you a little less afraid of giving away your feelings for the boy.

But you found yourself telling him, unflinchingly honest and without a second thought. "I was only like that because they tried to hurt you, I was beyond terrified until then."

"Is that so?" Eddie mused. He was beaming like you'd just said the best thing he'd ever heard, like having proof of you being murderous at the idea of him being hurt was enough to light the boy up from the inside and make his features glow with a new softness.

You only hummed in response, heart suddenly in your throat, pulse fluttering wildly and you briefly wondered if Eddie could feel it when his hand slipped along your jaw. Thumb teasing along the edge and fingers warm on your neck.

"So if we ever got attacked by an undead horde instead of bats and cat-eating lizards?"

You laughed, shrugging. "Then I guess I'm beheading some zombies."

It was meant to be a light comment but it made the air around you grow heavy, like you couldn't move away even if your life depended on it, when he pressed his forehead to yours with a little theatrical groan.

The way his eyes bore into yours under the dark fringe of his lashes making you breath catch, lungs tight when he teased. "Careful babe, with that kind of talk I might think you're trying to make me fall in love with you."

You don't know what possessed you, the words spilt passed your lips before you could catch them.

"What if I was?"

You felt more than heard the sharp inhale of his breath, the way he froze beneath you, slack-jawed, eyes wide and searching like he was nervous of the possibility you'd suddenly laugh and tell him you were only joking.

But then he seemed to find something in the shyness of your own gaze that made his turn bold, his hand on your back pressing you that little bit firmer against him as he shifted to turn into you fully.

The smile tugging at his lips was one you'd never seen before, the type he only ever gave when he was sure you weren't looking because there was no doubt in his mind that every ounce of love he had for you was written all over his face.

And Eddie swallowed hard before he spoke, his voice shot, affection flooding through the cracks, whilst he bumped his nose to yours. "Then I'd say you're about nine years too late."

Oh.

Wait-

You made a choked sound of surprise as you jerked back to look at him, stunned, fingers curling tight into his jumper and the warm skin of his wrist so you could steady yourself.

"Nine years?" You repeated, feeling dumbstruck whilst Eddie laughed.

But then he was cupping your cheeks with both hands, drawing you back to him with a grin that was all dimples and soft honey eyes and it felt like your heart would burst in your chest when the moment he was confident he had your full attention, he told you. "Sweetheart, I was a goner from the moment you showed up on my doorstep."

"Oh."

It felt like you'd been utterly floored.

It hit you that through all the years that you'd been in love with your best friend you had never truly considered a reality where he felt the same, and now you had no clue how to react.

However you were suddenly, painfully aware of all the times where you'd ached to touch him in a way that you'd then had to remind yourself wasn't allowed, all the time you could have spent learning what his lips felt like on yours, how he tasted. How long you could have called him yours if you both hadn't been so scared.

It felt like a crime to let it go on any longer.

"Eddie?" You whispered, nerves like a champagne fizz in your belly that then spread all the way to your fingers and toes as your eyes fluttered closed at his breath on your lips.

You could smell cinnamon and smoke, a hint of mint underneath, and god, you'd never craved something so bad as you did him.

"Yeah, sweetheart?"

He sounded no better than you - voice hoarse - a little wrecked. Thumbs digging into the hinges of your jaw like he was desperate to keep you anchored to him as he waited with baited breath for you to ask.

"Can I kiss you?"

His mouth was on yours before you could finish.

Soft and sweet at first despite the energy you could practically feel thrumming beneath his skin. You swallowed the groan that almost immediately slipped from his throat, both hands coming up to clutch at his wrists as he tugged you closer, tilting your jaw so he could deepen the kiss - lips sliding over yours again and again as you clung to him.

When you parted, it was only for a handful of seconds. A beat to catch your breath, to stare at each other like you couldn't believe this was finally happening. But then you caught sight of Eddie, eyes burning dark and hooded, lips swollen with your kisses, and it already felt like far too long.

Clearly Eddie felt the same.

The kiss became demanding when you crashed back together, greedy lips and greedy hands, his tongue tracing the seam of your lips before hungrily licking into your mouth. And then you were being pulled onto his lap, soft thighs falling open for him to fit beneath you and the prettiest moan you'd ever heard coming from the boy as your hips settled flush over his.

You gasped against him, a desperate noise that sent heat rushing to your cheeks, when his hand slipped under your shirt to grip your waist. Dizzy at the contrast of cold rings and warm fingers that were gently neading your skin, making you melt further into him than you thought possible.

It made him grip you that little bit harder, squeeze a little tighter to see if you'd make the same sweet sound for him again and Eddie felt like he'd go wild when you did. Like he could lose himself right there and then, with your fingers buried in his curls and your mouth hot on his, because you were all he could think about, see, hear and smell.

He was drowning in you and if you asked anything of him in this moment you can be damn sure that he'd do it in a fucking heartbeat if it meant you'd continue looking at him the way you were when your lips finally parted and you swayed back.

You were all soft smiles and slightly glassy eyed - a bit drunk on the way your best friend had kissed you like he would die if he didn't - and he couldn't resist stealing another, a second and then a third. Quick and a little clumsy because Eddie was smiling too.

There was so much warmth in your chest it felt like you could burst with it. All the emotions and feelings for the boy that you'd buried for so long now free to bloom wild and unhindered in the spaces between your ribs.

You couldn't help the bubble of laughter that poured past your lips, grinning so hard it hurt as he pressed his forehead to yours, thumbs stroking circles over your sides whilst he tried to pull you even closer.

'Strange." You mumbled, soft and a little drawn out like you were just waiting for him to ask.

He didn't let you wait long, nose brushing yours, heart-achingly indulgent.

"What is?"

"I think I've changed my mind about zombie movies, maybe they're not so bad after all."

[dark-and-kawaii]

Candy Cane Kisses

Summary: You had one special request for Santa this year- a creamy, fat creampie xoxo~ ❄︎ ♡

The following stroke, just as brutal as the first, followed after a cruel ten second pause, “Oh, baby, ya like that, don't ya?" he growls, his voice deep as he thrusts into your tight little cunt under the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree.

Your muffled moans only encourage him further, his fingers tangling in your hair as he drives the tip of his cock right up against the squishy sweet spot deep within you, the one that makes your thighs quiver and your belly tighten. The scent of pine and sex wafts thick in the air, mingling with the warm aroma of sugar cookies, hot cocoa and freshly roasted chestnuts.

It's almost as intoxicating as the way Gojo’s muscular body is flexing over yours, the sound of his breath hitching in his throat as he continues to pound the absolute fuck out of you, his large, veiny hand wrapping around your jaw, tilting your head back, “gonna fill ya up so nicely, babygirl. Make sure my pretty elf has a bellyful of me.”

The feeling of being so utterly possessed by him, the pretty red ribbon binding your wrists above your head, the sight of him gazing down at you like you're the only thing he's ever wanted for Christmas... It's all driving you closer and closer to the edge, making your heart thud faster and your breath grow shallower.

Each thrust made your toes curl and your back arch, “Ngh~ S-Satoru~!” you gasped. To which made him give you the sweetest and most tender smile, it was the best gift he could have asked for- hearing you cry his name as his cock stretched your pretty pussy out so deliciously.

You saw how his hand reached for one of the candy canes that hung from the tree, his teeth ripping the wrapper open before holding it above your face, “Stick out your tongue, pretty baby...”

Gojo watched as your mouth hung open like the good good girl you were, the sweet, sticky flavor coating your tongue as he pressed the thick end of the candy in between your lips, letting you suckle on it for a moment. Your cheeks grew rosy, your eyes hazy, your moans muffled as you tried your best to lap at the sweet treat.

“That my good little elf, keep sucking,” his voice rumbled, his icy blue eyes trained on the way your lips moved, your tongue licking along the striped cane as if it were a cock, “You look so mmn’pretty like this, doll, so fuckin' good.”

His hips snapped, pushing his cock right up against your cervix, his hands moving beneath you to grip at your ass, tilting your hips upwards, letting him sink even deeper into you. His eyes closed for a moment, his head tipping back, his snowy hair falling back, exposing his handsome jaw and the pretty veins that ran along his neck.

All you wanted for Christmas was a creampie from Gojo Satoru, but you had no idea just how much of it you were about to get.

As the ornaments clinked and the snow fell softly outside the window, you came with a whimpering moan, your inner walls fluttering and squeezing around him, milking his thick cock of every last drop of cum. He was more than happy to give you everything you wished for Christmas, his hot seed spilling inside of you, his hips twitching as he continued to rut into you, his nails biting gently at your skin, his hands gripping onto your ass.

It took a few minutes for him to finally finish, but when he did, he let out a sigh, his chest rising and falling as he slowly pulled out of you. You could feel his seed dribbling down your thighs, making a pretty white mess beneath you.

The candy cane had fallen out of your mouth, leaving behind a trail of sticky saliva on your cheek. He smiled, brushing a thumb across your bottom lip, “Let’s see if ya taste as good as ya look,” he murmurs, leaning forward and capturing your mouth in a sweet kiss.

The warmth and tenderness of his lips against yours made your heart swell with joy. He tasted of peppermint and chocolate, the flavors of Christmas. And now, he had made this holiday complete, giving you the perfect gift and making you the happiest little elf ever.

[my-castles-crumbling]

Sirius's Amortentia

Hey guys! Someone requested I do some writing exploring the ways Amortentia can smell (that it doesn't always reflect romantic love) so I decided to so a series of microfics about it! I'm hoping to get a few of them done today.

Thirteen

They snuck the potion the first time when they were thirteen, determined to use it in some crazy truth-or-dare scheme. Sirius knew enough about love potions to know the rules behind the smell: whatever he smelled was what he loved.

So he almost had a panic attack in the middle of the Common Room when he sniffed the mall vial only to realize that the overwhelming scent of his Dorm Room was accosting his nostrils.

He wasn't sure what to make of it. Was he gay? Did he love all of his friends? What did it mean?

He thought and thought and overthought himself into a spiral until James found him and talked some sense into him. "Pads, we're thirteen. And love can mean like...friend love, you know? Like I smell my mum's cooking in my Amortentia," he calmly said, not at all shocked that Sirius could smell James's cheap muggle cologne in the potion.

Sirius breathed a sigh of relief after that.

Fifteen

By fifteen, he was intimately aware of the scent of his Amortentia, having almost been dosed a few times himself. He could pick out the smells of James's more-expensive cologne, Regulus's pretentious quill ink, and Peter's peanut butter bars that he constantly loved to snack on.

But Remus's favorite chocolates seemed to overpower all of it.

As he grew, it became more and more obvious. The other scenes were merely background to the overwhelming aroma of chocolate and the woods. And he couldn't deny that when he saw Remus, his body reacted as differently as his potion smelled.

He was fucked.

Sixteen

"Remember when we were thirteen and I panicked because I smelled you in my Amortentia?" Sirius asked James after learning about the potion in class.

James just laughed. "Yeah mate. You were terrified."

"Right," Sirius gulped. "And you said there's a difference between friend-love and being in-love."

"Yeah."

"What if I still smell one of you in it...but I don't think it's friend-love?" Sirius asked, blushing and not meeting James's eyes.

There was a moment of silence before James replied, "I think Moony feels the same way you do, Pads."

Sirius didn't ask James how he knew which one of them he was referring to.

Seventeen

They'd fought for the millionth time, the tension and Sirius's inability to express his emotions causing both of them to lash out. It was as he cried on top of the Astronomy Tower, cursing himself for not being able to just say how he felt, that he got the idea.

"Smell it," Sirius demanded, shoving a vial in front of a frowning Remus's face.

"What?"

"Smell it. Does it smell like me?" he asked, heart thundering.

"I-"

"Because mine smells like chocolate and the forest. Other things too, but mostly that. Has for ages now," Sirius breathed, staring at Remus's widening eyes.

The vial clattered to the ground as their lips collided.

[iamgonnagetyouback]

james potter x reader where the others scheme a date

Hogsmeade weekends were supposed to be chill. Stroll around, grab some Butterbeer, have an actual good time. But no, not when you had this group of friends.

The day had started innocently enough. You, James, Lily, Sirius, Remus, and Peter were wandering through the cobbled streets of the village, the chilly air nipping at your cheeks. James, as always, walked a little too close, his shoulder bumping into yours every so often. Sirius was laughing loudly at something ridiculous, while Peter was fumbling with a packet of chocolate frogs.

“Honestly,” you said, smirking at Remus, “You’re absolutely wrong, Lupin,”

“I’m not,” Remus raised an eyebrow, adjusting the scarf around his neck. “The book clearly states—”

“Oh, here we go. The book states,” you interrupted, waving your hand in the air mockingly. “I didn’t realize we were hanging out with Hogwarts: A History today.”

Sirius snorted. “Shots fired, Moony.”

“You can’t win against her,” James said with a grin, adjusting his glasses. “Just give in now, mate.”

“Never,” Remus replied, clutching his imaginary pearls. “Unlike some people, I don’t concede to chaos.”

“You concede to chocolate,” you countered, smirking.

The banter continued until Sirius abruptly stopped, spinning around with a dramatic flourish that made his cloak billow like he thought he was some kind of medieval prince. “Actually, as riveting as this has been” he began, his tone suspiciously casual, “I think I’m gonna pop into Honeydukes. Anyone want to join?”

“Sure!” Lily chirped, adjusting her hat.

“I could do with some sweets,” Remus said, eyeing Sirius skeptically but playing along.

“Count me in,” Peter added, already salivating at the thought of fudge.

You blinked, slightly caught off guard. “Wait, are we all going? James, you coming?”

James opened his mouth, likely to say yes, but Sirius slapped a hand against his chest, stopping him. “Oh, no. Nope. Negative. Not happening.”

You frowned, looking between Sirius and James. “Uh, why not?”

“Yeah, why not?” James echoed, shoving Sirius’ hand away.

Lily chimed in smoothly, her expression far too innocent. “Because the car only fits four people, love.”

James squinted at her. “Lils, we walked here. Together. On foot. As a group.”

“Exactly,” Remus cut in, a suspicious glint in his eye. “And now we’re heading back... by foot. But separately. To balance out the symmetry.”

“Symmetry?” you repeated, your eyebrows shooting up.

“Yes,” Peter said, nodding vigorously. “It’s... the rules of the village. Hogsmeade law. Very strict. Four people max per... Honeydukes visit. And symmetry.”

The four of them shuffled off, muttering a chorus of nonsensical excuses. “Very strict rules... totally official... you’ll understand when you’re older...”

You and James stood frozen in the middle of the street, watching them disappear into the distance.

“What just happened?” you asked after a moment, turning to James, bewildered.

He ran a hand through his messy hair, his expression caught between amusement and disbelief. “I think we’ve been abandoned.”

You squinted toward Honeydukes, where your friends were very obviously not adhering to any “symmetry laws” and instead stuffing their faces with sweets through the window.

“Well,” James said, his voice suddenly hopeful, “I guess it’s just us then.” He grinned at you, his cheeks pink from the cold. “Wanna make it a date?”

Your heart flipped at the word date, but you played it cool, tilting your head dramatically. “Hmm. I don’t know, Potter. What’s in it for me?”

He leaned in just slightly, his grin turning cheeky. “A lifetime of my charming company, of course.”

You laughed, nudging him with your shoulder. “Oh, well, in that case... lead the way.”

As the two of you wandered off toward The Three Broomsticks, your laughter echoing through the chilly air, you couldn’t help but glance back toward Honeydukes. Sirius caught your eye through the window, winking as he shoved a licorice wand into his mouth.

“Idiots,” you muttered fondly, shaking your head.

James didn’t seem to mind one bit.

[azzifuddslover]

off the court

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

themes: angst, pining, possession, jealousy

tw: swearing, light injury

word count: 3.8k

a/n: i liked writing this one but it’s kinda all over the place lol. azzi is really in her oblivious era 🙄 and please ignore how everything in this chapter has already happened.. anyway please please lemme know how y’all like it! enjoyyy

CHAPTER SIX

azzi strolls into her and caroline’s shared dorm, still out of it from everything that went down in paige’s room just hours prior.

caroline rests on her bed, curled up in a ball with a book in her hands. her eyes snap to azzi as she makes her entrance, prepared and willing to apologize profusely.

azzi lets out a quiet sigh, not quite ready to talk with caroline just yet. instead, she goes into their small kitchen, opens the fridge and grabs an unopened water, taking a few sips. she also spots leftover chocolate chip muffins that her and caroline had baked recently, and snatches one of those to snack on as well.

azzi makes her way into their bedroom eventually, finally deciding to talk to her best friend. she hates fighting with her- can’t stand it, actually.

“hey,” azzi waves at carol, taking a bite of the muffin.

“azzi, i’m so sorry,” caroline apologizes, shutting her book to give her undivided attention to her friend. “i promise i was going to tell you eventually, i just figured i’d let you and paige work things out before getting involved. you have to know that.”

azzi’s lips tug into a small smile, “i understand, babe. it’s already forgotten.”

she wasn’t lying, either. it was forgotten- something, someone took her mind straight off it.

caroline lets out a breath of relief, touching her hand to her heart. “oh, that’s good. i truly am sorry.”

azzi just laughs at the brunette’s reaction while continuing to snack on her muffin.

“so, how’s the book? i’ve been dying to read that one,” azzi asks, changing the subject.

“it’s so good, you’ll love-“ caroline cuts herself off, “azzi fudd, look at me right now.”

azzi’s head snaps to caroline, “what?” she questions, genuinely confused.

caroline gasps, covering at mouth with both hands, “oh my god! i can’t believe this!” she stands up, approaching the curly headed girl, “who am i kidding, i totally can believe this.”

“what are you talking about?”

“look in the fucking mirror, az!” caroline exclaims.

azzi’s eyes widen as it clicks in her brain. she rushes into the bathroom and instantly covers her mouth in shock. fucking paige.

a trail of hickeys are scattered along her neck, all down her collarbone. heat reaches her cheeks as she shakes her head in disbelief.

“oh jesus,” azzi murmurs.

caroline appears behind her, looking directly in the mirror, making eye contact with her friend. a loud laugh leaves her lips, unable to hold it together.

azzi turns around, finding it extremely unfunny. she gives carol a shove, “it’s not fucking funny, asshole!”

caroline plants a hand over her mouth in hopes to control her chuckle, “i’m sorry, babe. but seriously? we were just talking about this yesterday and it happened overnight?”

azzi opens her mouth to explain herself, but closes it when she can’t find the words.

“tell me everything that happened,” caroline smiles, excitement buzzing off her.

azzi and carol leave the bathroom, entering their shared bedroom and sitting on the two beds, facing one another.

“where do i even start,” azzi quietly asks herself, before beginning to go over everything that went down between paige and her from the night before.

“no, az, you said to forget about it? why would you do that?” caroline questions after azzi wraps up the explanation of her trail of hickeys.

azzi shakes her head as regret sets in. “i panicked, okay? i didn’t wanna screw things up.”

“but what’s wrong with changing how things are between you two? you clearly like one another, so what’s the big deal?”

azzi looks at her friend, “that’s the thing, carol. she doesn’t like me. i mean, maybe a little, but not like that. she never wanted to kiss me to begin with- i was the one to initiate it.”

caroline smirks while shaking her head at azzi’s comment, “babe, i love you and all, but you’re being dumb.”

azzi scrunches her eyebrows at her friend, “what? why?”

“paige loves you, idiot! i know it, everyone knows it; she knows it, even if she doesn’t wanna admit it,” carol begins, “she always makes little glances at you during practices, she practically glows when someone mentions you around her. and on top of all of that, she always finds a way to be near you whenever you’re around!”

azzi gapes at caroline’s reasoning, shock crashing onto her features. unsure how to respond, she stays silent, letting a comfortable silence settle between the two freshmen.

“you’re wrong, carol,” azzi finally responds, shaking her head. she has to be wrong.

“like hell i am!” caroline shouts. “and do you really think she’d fuck you without any feelings involved?”

azzi’s lips curl into a line, “i’ve heard she’s done it before.”

“azzi, everyone has casual hookups. i’m not talking about that. it’s different with you.”

“you don’t know that,” azzi responds.

“we’ll see in practice tomorrow,” caroline says to her friend.

“we sure will,” azzi folds her arms over her chest in challenge.

the following day, azzi immediately forces all the paige’s thoughts away, at least for a little while so she can focus on doing better in practice.

she rolls out of bed, rubbing her eyes and letting out a soft yawn. she washes her face, follows her short and simple skincare routine before applying concealer to the marks paige left behind on her neck, trying her best to hide them. even after three layers, they’re still slightly noticeable.

she throws on practice clothes before heading out the door with caroline by her side.

“did you make sure to cover your little love bites?” carol snickers from beside azzi.

azzi rolls her eyes, “yes, caroline. not like it’s gonna last, though.”

caroline nods in agreement. once azzi starts to sweat, the concealer will definitely wear off, leaving azzi’s neck exposed.

a flash of panic runs through azzi, “you don’t think paige told anyone, right?”

carol slugs her arm around the freshmen’s shoulders, tugging her close. “nah, not yet, at least. it’ll be fine, az.”

“i hope you’re right.”

azzi’s performance is definitely an improvement from yesterday; her shots falls in almost everytime, she completes simple layups with a grin on her face.

paige notices this, and decides to approach the younger girl, despite her brain screaming not to.

“i see you’re doing better,” paige notes, a tiny smirk on her lips as she stares at azzi.

azzi locks eyes with paige and takes a small step backwards. she figured paige would keep her distance, considering what she told her yesterday, but apparently, paige has other plans.

“yeah, guess so,” azzi mutters, taking her attention off paige and back onto shooting.

paige continues to stare at her, awkwardly standing with a basketball in her hands.

“do you need something?” azzi asks, arching a brow.

“uh,” paige begins but her words soon trail off as she catches sight of the faint marks on azzi’s neck, scattered along her neck and collarbone area.

azzi glances at paige, confusion setting in at paige’s wandering eyes. “what?”

paige blinks, her lips pressing into a thin line as she clears her throat. “um, guess i got a little carried away earlier,” she mutters as she shallows dryly. “didn’t realize i left marks.”

azzi’s cheeks flush, unconsciously grabbing her neck. “yeah, you did.”

“sorry about that,” paige attempts a small smile at azzi, who doesn’t return it. instead, she stares at paige with an unreadable expression on her face.

“it’s fine,” azzi whispers, going back to shooting, subtly hinting for paige to leave.

paige takes the hint and soon backs away from the curly haired brunette, going back to her own dibbling drills she was previously doing with jana and aubrey. she can’t help but feel embarrassed that azzi can shut what happened between them down. it clearly wasn’t that easily for paige.

paige feels for azzi, whether she was ready to admit it or not. that night they shared together meant something to her- meant everything to her. how was she supposed to forget it happened when every time she saw azzi, it all came rushing back?

days went by with azzi and paige keeping their distance from each other. the two barely interacted during practices, barely even glanced in the others direction.

regardless of their little contact, paige still yearned for azzi. she physically couldn’t get their shared night out of her head; the feel of azzi’s lips on hers, her tongue against hers, her taste. she’d be lying if she said there wasn’t late nights where her fingers didn’t end up in her pants at the memory of azzi. there most definitely was.

but today was game day, so the blonde tried her best to focus her attention on basketball, and not the brunette that wouldn’t even glance her way anymore.

the uconn women’s basketball team, along with iowa state, the opponent, took their time getting warmed up and stretched. by the time both teams were ready to start, paige was relaxed and confident in her game.

the girls are playing well- paige has 15 points and azzi equips 17 before halftime arrives.

30 seconds until the halftime buzzer goes off. the whistle blew sharply, cutting through the noise of the crowd. paige has her hands on the ball, scanning her surroundings for any open teammates. azzi is planted in the corner, setting up for a 3 shot she could easily make. out of the corner of her eye, azzi spots a player from iowa state approaching her, in attempts to guard the freshmen. paige throws the ball to azzi after noticing she’s open. azzi scans the court, waiting for the perfect moment to take the shot. she dribbles once, then twice, pivoting to create space between the defender and herself. the player belonging to iowa state closes in, aggressive and quick. azzi shifts to her right, trying to get the open shot, but as she plants her foot to push off, the defender lungs at her- her elbow unintentionally catching azzi in the ribs.

azzi lets out a sharp gasp when she stumbles backwards. her ankle twists slightly as she tries to catch herself, but ultimately loses her balance and crashes hard to the floor. the air leaves her lungs in a painful rush.

“azzi!” paige’s voice breaks through the noise of the game, full of concern and worry. one minute she was on the other side of the court, and in an instant, she was sprinting towards where azzi’s lays. she reaches azzi, who attempts to sit up, hand clutching her ribs, wincing in pain.

“hey, hey, you okay?” paige kneels beside her, placing both hands on azzi’s face, eyes wide and mouth ajar. there was a noticeable anger in her tone, and before azzi knew it, paige turns her head at the iowa state defender, who was standing there, oblivious. “what the hell was that?”

the defender, a bit stunned at paige’s outburst, takes a gentle, cautious step back. “i didn’t mean to-“

“i don’t care if you meant to or not!” paige snaps, her eyes narrow.

the ref was already approaching the commotion, but paige ignores him, attention fixed on azzi. she reaches out to once again cup the younger girls face in her hands. “azzi, look at me. are you okay? can you breathe?”

azzi, still dazed at her fall, pulls her eyes to paige’s. her body almost instantly relaxes with paige’s hands on her face and eyes fixated solely on azzi. “i think i twisted my ankle a bit. and my ribs hurt.. but i’m okay.”

paige takes a deep breath, visibly trying to calm herself. she removes her hands off azzi’s figure, placing them restlessly at her sides.

suddenly, aubrey, nika as well as coach auriemma appear behind paige- coach looking pissed.

“oh my god, azzi, are you okay?” nika questions, concerned for her teammate.

“i’m all good, nik,” azzi replies, attempting a small smile for reassurance.

“paige,” coach auriemma says, eyes flaming with anger.

paige flicks her eyes at coach as nerves set in for the sophomore. oh well, she thought. defending azzi was more important than a lecture she’ll receive later on.

azzi tries to get up on her own, struggles a little before the blonde offers both hands out to azzi. paige helps azzi to her feet, still clutching her ribs in pain. paige lets go of azzi’s hands, only to move one arm loosely around her waist and position herself at the brunettes side.

the two girls head into the locker room, paige’s arm never moves from azzi’s frame. for support, she repeats to herself. the other players follow as well, all concerned for the freshmen. azzi is a big part of their teams success- she had to be okay.

azzi lowers herself onto the bench once they make it to the locker room for halftime, carefully and cautiously. paige continues to linger close to her.

before paige could get a word out, coach auriemma shouts her name, calling the sophomore over. paige groans as azzi quietly chuckles, already expecting a long lecture.

the game eventually ended, uconn winning by a landslide. azzi, for the last two quarters, rested on the bench, not wanting to risk getting further injured.

azzi is sprawled out in her bed, caroline sitting in hers with her nose in her current read, when a text from the team group chat comes through.

azzi reaches for her phone- wanna go to ted’s at 8? nika’s text read.

azzi mentally groans, not wanting to leave her room, much less leave her bed. she lets out a soft sigh, knowing caroline will drag her there regardless of her answer.

me and azzi are in! caroline quickly sends, not even bothering to ask azzi prior. typical, azzi thinks to herself.

each teammate, besides ashlynn, who was crammed with studying and said she couldn’t make it, agrees to ted’s.

caroline practically throws her book down, rushing to get up and get herself ready for the night at the bar. azzi closes her eyes in defeat, pulling her blanket over her face to capture her annoyance.

carol yanks the blanket out of azzi’s grip, not having it with azzi’s stubborn pleas. “get up,” she says firmly at her friend.

azzi rolls her eyes, groaning again for good measure. she takes her time getting up from the bed, not wanting to push her ankle. it remains sore, but she’s able to walk decent. her ribs, however, have a large bruise from the iowa state player’s elbow.

azzi and caroline get dressed with music playing in the background from carol’s phone. azzi picks out a pink tank top, long enough to cover her noticeable bruise, and a pair of jean shirts: her go-to going out outfit.

around 7:50 pm, the two roommates make their way to the bar, azzi still buzzing with frustration from being forced out of her comfortable state. all she wanted was a chill night in, or maybe binge watch her favorite tv series again.

the door creaks as it swings open, the sound of loud chants makes azzi take a cautious step back. ted’s, as usual, is packed with uconn students. there was a faint clink of glass on glass cutting through the air, mingling with the deeper thud of bottles being slammed onto the counter. somewhere in the background, a jukebox crackles, its song barely audible over the noise of the overlapping voices.

azzi’s eyes wander, trying to find any of her teammates she planned to meet up with, coming up with none. her and caroline stood close, not wanting to lose one another in the buzzing crowd.

they sat themselves in open seats along the bar, after what felt like ages searching for. behind the bar, a male bartender’s rag swishes against a dirty glass as he glances at the two girls. laughter erupts at one end of the room, loud and brash, before it falters into a sputtering cough.

“what can i get you ladies?” the bartenders smiles kindly at them.

“i’ll just take a margarita,” azzi returns the smile.

“me too,” carol agrees, making it easier for the bartender, since he’s clearly overwhelmed with the crowd.

“coming right up,” the man throws his rag over his shoulder as he reaches for a clean glass.

out of the corner of azzi’s eye, she catches a glimpse of nika, with paige and kk right on her heels.

the three didn’t notice the two freshmen quite yet, however. they sat themselves at a nearby table, navigating their way through the packed bar, before going up and ordering their own drinks of choice.

paige’s eyes lock on azzi’s once she reaches the bar, their distance closing in. a smirk lingers on her lips, yet azzi looks away, embarrassed and confused from their interaction earlier that day.

the two don’t speak. paige is deeply engrossed in a conversation with kk, waiting for her drink to be made, and rushes back to their table without a glance back at the younger girl. not that azzi cares, that is.

azzi grips her drink, taking sips, wanting to savor it for the moment.

“i’m going to the bathroom,” carol says with urgency, getting up out of her chair. azzi responds with a simple nod in acknowledgment.

minutes pass; azzi stays firmly planted in her seat, glancing at paige ever so often, before focusing on her phone.

azzi’s gaze flickers around the room, idle but alert, until a woman around her age suddenly slides into the now empty seat caroline was sitting in previously.

“i couldn’t help but notice you from across the room,” the woman smiles at the brunette, “i’m talia.”

“azzi, and thanks, i guess,” azzi stumbles over her words, nervous at the attention she typically never gets.

azzi’s smile is polite, but her eyes flash with hesitation. she didn’t come here to flirt- especially with a complete stranger.

“what are you drinking? i’ll buy you another,” talia says, determination laced in her tone.

azzi is hesitant, “you really don’t have to.”

“i insist.”

azzi smirks at her, before agreeing, “alright then. a margarita, thanks.”

talia, a pretty blonde with loose curls, just like azzi’s, resting on her shoulders. her eyes were olive green, eyelashes long in length, perky breasts sitting nicely in her tank top. azzi definitely didn’t hate looking at her.

an unnecessarily loud chuckle interrupts the two girl’s conversation. azzi turns her head, eyes immediately landing on paige who stands at her table, clutching her glass tightly. she’s staring- eyes narrowed, cheeks red as her jaw tightens. azzi feels a familiar tension rise in the air between them.

she focuses on the woman in front of her, choosing to ignore the fuming blonde. they discuss their interests, azzi mentions she plays basketball for uconn, and what not.

paige’s gaze lingers on azzi longer than intended: an unreadable expression on her face. the sophomore gives them a couple minutes as she silently watches, hoping and praying the woman will leave her azzi alone.

but when she sees azzi outburst with loud laughter is when she loses it. she slams her glass down, hard enough to rattle the wooden table, and struts over there, anger buzzing off her skin.

azzi immediately sees the blonde coming her way, but chooses to ignore her until she reaches her and talia’s spots at the bar.

paige doesn’t bother looking in talia’s direction- she focuses solely on azzi, and azzi only. her hand impulsively moves to grip azzi’s arm, firm but gentle enough so it won’t hurt her.

“i need to talk to you,” paige says darkly, “now, azzi.”

azzi scrunches her eyebrows, shock running through her veins at paige’s urgency.

“i’ll be right back,” azzi points to talia, offering a small smile as paige pulls her away. paige’s hand lingers on her back, holding her close as they walk towards the exit door for a more quiet, private area to talk.

“no, you won’t,” paige whispers against azzi’s curls.

the haunting tension hangs in the air as azzi follows paige outside, the frigid wind hitting her bare arms. the night is quiet, only the sound of the their footsteps fills the space as they head to the parking lot. neither paige nor azzi says anything at first, the energy between them is thick.

“where are we going?” azzi questions suddenly, annoyance laced in her tone.

“to your room, or mine, it doesn’t matter. somewhere we can talk without the freezing fucking weather.”

azzi remains behind the blonde the whole walk back to campus, letting out multiple angry huffs to capture how unpleased she is with paige.

“are you going to tell me why the hell you did that?” azzi says as soon as they enter azzi’s dorm, arms crossing over her chest as she tilts her head.

paige’s jaw clenches, her eyes fixed straight ahead.

“you really don’t get it, don’t you?” the blonde’s voice is tight, barely under control, as she turns to look at azzi.

azzi raises an eyebrow, “get what?”

paige’s eyes flash, a mix of frustration and anger edging in her tone. “you were all over her, azzi. you didn’t even care that i was right there.”

azzi’s shoulders tense, a frown pulling at the corners of her lips. “what are you talking about? it was just a conversation, paige.”

the sophomore scoffs, taking a small step towards the girl. “you were practically flirting with her! laughing, leaning in, making it obvious you were interested.”

“you’re being ridiculous! it wasn’t flirting, and if anything, she was the one flirting with me! and why the fuck would you care?” azzi shouts, throwing her arms up.

“god, azzi!” paige shouts back, mouth ajar at azzi’s complete obliviousness.

azzi lets out a small, defeated sigh as she sits down on her bed. paige lowers herself onto caroline’s made one, eyes focusing on the floor.

what feels like minutes pass without either one of them talking. it wasn’t until paige looks up at the brunette, anger washing away into sadness.

“i was jealous,” paige quietly admits, locking eyes with azzi.

“why?” azzi whispers back, her heart racing.

paige closes her eyes for a moment before getting up from her sitting position on carol’s bed, walking closer and closer to the door. she turns to azzi, only able to offer a few quick, quiet words- “you know why.” paige walks out without giving azzi a chance to respond.

azzi swears her heart skips a beat at paige’s choice of words, yet is unable to process how or why paige left so quickly.

minutes later, azzi is curled up into a ball underneath layers of blankets, head still whirling from her and paige’s conversation.

throughout the night, azzi couldn’t sleep. her mind was on repeat of paige’s words, uncontrollably playing in her head.

you know why.

[joelsrose]

Good Neighbours: Chapter 2

previous chapter

no warnings - slow burn, joel is a major tease and flirt

The kitchen was warm, the smell of melted chocolate lingering in the air as you wiped a bead of sweat from your forehead, glancing down at the recipe in front of you. It was one you’d made a hundred times before—a rich, decadent chocolate cake that had won over countless friends back in Chicago. Even your ex had loved it.

You grimaced at the memory, shaking it off with a shudder before dipping a finger into the bowl for a taste. The sweet, velvety flavor spread across your tongue, momentarily satisfying.

Uncle Ray had mentioned earlier that he’d invited Sarah and Joel over to watch the game. Your heart gave a nervous thud at the thought of Joel being in your house. He had this way of commanding a room with his quiet confidence, and you weren’t sure you were ready to be in such close proximity to him for an entire evening.

Ray had promised to take care of dinner, leaving you in charge of dessert. A fair trade, you supposed, since cooking wasn’t exactly his forte. You focused on the cake, pouring the batter into the pan, when the doorbell rang.

You wiped your hands on a towel and walked to the door, smoothing your hair nervously before opening it.

There he was—Joel. His hair was damp and slicked back, as if he’d just stepped out of the shower. His patchy beard was trimmed just enough to keep that rugged edge, and his brown eyes held a quiet warmth, deep and rich like coffee.

The scent of him hit you next—clean and woodsy, mixed with a faint trace of something spiced that made your knees feel a little weaker.

"Hey, sweetheart," he greeted, his voice warm and familiar, that unmistakable Southern drawl curling around the word and sending a shiver straight through you.

"Hi, Joel," you managed, your voice softer than you intended as you stepped aside, opening the door wider. "Come on in."

He stepped inside, his boots clicking softly against the hardwood floor, the sound grounding you as you tried not to stare too long.

His eyes roamed the hallway, pausing on a framed photo perched on the console table. Reaching out, he picked it up with a curious smile.

"Who's this cutie?" he asked, holding the picture up slightly.

You moved closer, your shoulder nearly brushing his as you glanced at the image. It was an old photo of you as a kid, sandwiched between your dad and Ray.

The memory bubbled up faintly—how you’d been wearing an oversized life jacket, grinning despite being terrified of the fish your dad had caught.

"Oh," you said, a small laugh escaping as you brushed your hair back nervously. "That’s me. My dad and Uncle Ray took me fishing that day. I remember being scared out of my mind when Dad reeled in this huge fish—it was flopping around everywhere."

Joel chuckled softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he looked back at the photo, his thumb brushing over the glass as if committing it to memory.

"Damn cute," he murmured, his voice low, almost reverent. Then he glanced at you, his smile softening into something deeper, something that made your heart stutter in your chest. "Still are," he added, his eyes holding yours for just a moment longer than necessary.

Your cheeks burned, the compliment settling into your chest like a warm glow. "Thanks," you said, barely above a whisper, unsure of what else to say under the weight of his gaze.

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

You weren’t sure how much longer you could stand being alone with Joel.

His presence was magnetic, and every look, every word he said, felt charged—but was it? Was he flirting, or was this just how he was with everyone?

Maybe it was just some Texas charm you weren’t used to. You needed to steady yourself, needed to change the subject.

"So, uh," you said, forcing a casual tone as you cleared your throat. "Where’s Sarah?"

Joel’s lips curved into a faint smirk, like he knew exactly what you were doing, but he let you have the out. "She’s runnin’ late," he said, placing the photo back down on the table with care. "Still finishing up work, but she’ll be here soon."

You nodded, swallowing hard as the reality of the situation hit you—you were alone with Joel. The thought made your pulse quicken, a nervous energy buzzing under your skin. "Uh, well," you said, gesturing toward the living room. "Ray’s out grabbing dinner. You can, um, make yourself comfortable until he gets back."

Joel tilted his head slightly, his gaze lingering on you for a beat too long. It made your breath hitch, the intensity in his eyes somehow grounding and overwhelming all at once. Then he gave you that crooked smile, the one that made your stomach flip.

"Alright," he said simply, moving toward the couch with an easy confidence that only made the room feel smaller. You watched him settle in, his broad shoulders stretching out as he leaned back, completely at ease while you stood there, feeling anything but.

Joel sat down with a sigh, his broad shoulders sinking into the couch as he leaned back and ran a hand through his damp hair, the motion pulling your attention to the way his shirt clung to him just right.

"It’s damn hot today," he said, his voice low and rough, like the heat had taken the edge off his usual drawl. His legs were spread comfortably, his presence filling the space with an effortless ease that only made you feel more out of place.

"You’d think after all these years, I’d be used to it."

You hovered near the doorway, arms folding across your chest as you tried to decide whether to sit or stay standing. The indecision made you feel awkward, and you cursed yourself for being so flustered around him.

"It’s even worse upstairs," you finally said, forcing a light tone. "The fan in my room stopped working a few days ago—it’s like a sauna in there."

Joel straightened a little, his brows knitting together in concern. "Really? You poor thing." His gaze softened as he looked at you, and the way he said it made something twist low in your stomach. "I could take a look at it for you, if you want."

The offer caught you off guard, your mind scrambling as you processed his words.

Oh, right—Ray had mentioned Joel was in construction. Maybe he knew how to fix a fan.

It made sense—the truck, the boots, the rough calloused hands that had clearly seen their share of hard work. The thought made your throat tighten.

Your mind stumbled at the thought of Joel in your room, his presence alone enough to make your pulse race. "Oh, you don’t have to—" you started, your voice higher than usual, betraying your nerves.

Joel stood, cutting you off with that low, smooth drawl. "Don’t want you spendin’ all night awake, hot and bothered," he said, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

The insinuation in his words wasn’t lost on you, and it hit you like a jolt of electricity, your breath catching in your chest. "Not when I could help ya out," he added casually, his tone as warm and rich as molasses.

You felt the heat bloom across your cheeks, spreading down your neck as you stammered, "Uh, sure. It’s upstairs."

You turned, leading him toward the staircase, but the sound of his boots following close behind only made your heart hammer harder. You tried to focus on anything but him—your hand brushing against the banister, the quiet creak of the steps beneath your weight—but you could feel him, warm and solid at your back, his quiet presence filling the space.

Joel’s eyes, however, weren’t on the stairs or the hallway ahead. His gaze drifted lower, lingering on the way your hips swayed naturally with each step, the curve of your ass accentuated by the snug fit of your jeans. He swallowed hard, biting back a low curse.

Lord help me, he thought, dragging his hand through his hair to distract himself.

You reached the top and glanced back over your shoulder, catching the faintest flicker of something in his eyes—something that made the air feel heavier between you. "Here we are," you said softly, pushing open the door to your room and stepping aside to let him in.

Joel brushed past you as he stepped into your room, his presence warm and grounding, sending a faint shiver down your spine. His gaze wandered, slow and deliberate, taking in every detail—the photos of friends and family pinned lovingly to a corkboard, the necklaces and rings strewn across your dresser in a charming, haphazard way.

You were sweet, Joel thought, and that sweetness radiated from the room itself, from the cozy blankets draped over your bed to the faint, familiar scent that was uniquely you.

But then, his eyes caught on the bed—more specifically, on the pile of clothes you’d tossed there earlier. A flimsy thong rested on top of the heap, the delicate lace catching the soft light from the window.

Joel’s throat went dry, and he dragged a hand over his jaw, his mind racing with thoughts he had no right entertaining. He forced himself to look away, jaw tightening as he focused on the fan across the room, pretending he hadn’t seen it.

"Shit," you murmured, suddenly noticing his brief hesitation. Your cheeks flared with heat as you rushed to the bed, scooping up the pile and clutching it against your chest. "Sorry for the mess," you said, your voice tight with embarrassment.

Joel shook his head quickly, schooling his features into something easy and reassuring. "No problem," he said, his voice steady but a little rough around the edges. He let out a small chuckle, hoping to ease your nerves. "You should see Sarah’s room sometimes. I swear that girl keeps it a mess just to piss me off."

You forced a laugh, still mortified, as you hurried to stuff the clothes into your closet. Joel kept his gaze fixed on the fan now, determined to act normal, but his mind was spinning. The image of the lace had seared itself into his thoughts, and he had to fight to push it away, to remind himself to focus.

Clearing his throat, Joel gestured toward the fan. "Alright," he said, rolling his sleeves up further, exposing his strong forearms. "Let’s see if we can get this thing workin’ for ya." His voice was calm, even gentle, but his thoughts were anything but.

Joel crouched by the fan, examining it with a thoughtful furrow in his brow. His calloused fingers brushed over the edges as he fiddled with a few screws, testing the rotation. After a moment, he straightened, wiping his hands on his jeans and glancing over at you.

"Looks like it’s somethin’ electrical," he said, his voice calm but reassuring. "I got a buddy who’s an electrician. I’ll have him come by and take care of it for ya—free of charge."

Your cheeks warmed at the thoughtfulness behind his words, but it was hard to focus with the way the sweat on his brow glistened in the afternoon light, his shirt clinging just a little to his chest and back. "Oh," you managed, nodding dumbly. "That’d be great. Thanks, Joel."

"Anytime, sweetheart," he said, his voice softening. His gaze lingered on you for just a moment longer before the sound of the front door opening downstairs broke the spell.

"Hey!" Ray called, his voice booming through the house. "You up there?"

You cleared your throat, straightening slightly. "We should head down," you murmured, your voice quieter than you intended.

"Yeah," Joel said, his tone low as he turned back to you. His gaze lingered for just a moment, his eyes flicking to your bed before a faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, like he was filing the scene away for later, a thought he wasn’t quite ready to share.

"Let’s go," he said, his voice steady but tinged with something unspoken.

As you led the way downstairs, Joel followed closely, his presence a warm and steady weight just behind you. The quiet tension from upstairs hadn’t dissipated—it still hummed faintly between you, palpable in the air. Every step down felt slower, more deliberate, like the atmosphere itself was thick with the unsaid, pressing you closer to something neither of you was ready to name.

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

The game was in full swing—football, of course, a local rivalry that had Joel and Ray glued to the screen. Every so often, one of them would groan or cheer, depending on how their team fared, their voices loud enough to rattle the windows.

You and Sarah exchanged amused looks from your spot on the couch, shaking your heads as the two grown men acted like teenagers.

"Do they always get this intense?" you whispered to Sarah, biting back a laugh.

"Every. Single. Time," she replied, rolling her eyes with a grin. "It’s like watching kids at a theme park—if theme parks had beer and yelling."

You giggled, leaning back against the couch as Sarah launched into stories about her dad and Ray’s past football antics, complete with dramatized impressions. But even as you laughed with her, you couldn’t help but feel the weight of Joel’s gaze on you.

Every so often, when the others were too distracted by the game, you caught him sneaking glances your way—subtle, but enough to send a shiver down your spine. He’d quickly turn back to the TV each time, but the ghost of his gaze lingered, making it impossible to ignore.

When the game finally ended, Ray threw up his hands in frustration. "Ridiculous," he grumbled, leaning back on the couch. "They should’ve benched that quarterback weeks ago."

Joel nodded in agreement, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "If they’d just gone for the run in the third, it could’ve turned things around."

"Right?!" Ray added, shaking his head. "Some people just don’t know how to coach."

"Oh, darling," Ray started, his tone fond as he suddenly perked up, pointing a finger in your direction. "You made a cake or somethin’, hey? Just remembered. Don’t tell me you’re hiding it from us!"

You blinked, suddenly remembering the cake you’d carefully baked and iced that morning. "Oh, right! It’s in the fridge," you said, standing up.

"You guys wanna try it?" Ray asked, grinning. "She’s a hell of a baker."

"Um, yes," Sarah replied enthusiastically, already sitting up straighter.

Joel leaned back, his eyes still on you. "Would love to," he said, but the way he said it, low and tender, made your breath hitch. His gaze didn’t leave yours, and the warmth in it sent a flush creeping up your neck.

You nodded quickly, escaping to the kitchen to grab the cake. Balancing it on a stand with a few plates and forks, you returned to the living room, feeling all too aware of Joel’s eyes following you. Placing the cake on the coffee table, you carefully cut everyone a piece, the rich chocolate scent filling the room.

"Hope it’s alright," you said nervously, watching as everyone took a bite.

Sarah’s eyes widened dramatically as she chewed, muffling an enthusiastic, "Oh my god, this is the best cake I’ve ever had!" through a mouthful of chocolate.

Ray nodded in approval, already going in for another bite. "You’ve outdone yourself, kid. This is damn good."

Your eyes flicked to Joel, waiting anxiously for his reaction. He had already finished his piece, leaning back in his seat with a satisfied sigh. Then, slowly, he brought his hand up, sucking the remnants of chocolate off two fingers in a deliberate motion that felt… intimate.

"Well done, angel," he said, his voice low and smooth. "That was amazing."

Your thighs squeezed together instinctively and you felt your panties growing wet under the watch of his gaze. He knew exactly what he was doing, the faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth a telltale sign of his awareness.

That bastard.

"Th-thanks," you managed, tearing your gaze away and focusing on cutting yourself a piece of cake to distract from the wildfire spreading through you.

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

As the evening wound down, you walked with Ray to see Sarah and Joel to the door. The air outside was cooler now, a gentle breeze rustling through the trees as Sarah looped her arm through her dad’s, yawning dramatically.

"Thanks for having us," she said brightly, giving Ray a quick hug. "Dinner was great—and the cake was unreal."

Ray chuckled, patting her back. "Always good to have you two over. Don’t be strangers, now."

Joel lingered a step behind, his eyes on you as you stood quietly to the side. "You’re welcome anytime," Ray said, shaking Joel’s hand firmly. Joel nodded, murmuring his thanks, but his gaze flicked back to you almost immediately, softer now in the dim porch light.

Sarah yawned again, tugging her dad toward the footpath. "C’mon, old man, I’m beat. Let’s go."

"Alright, alright," Joel said, chuckling. But before he followed her, he turned back, his hand brushing lightly against yours in a way so subtle it could’ve been accidental—but it wasn’t. His fingers lingered for the briefest moment, his touch warm and deliberate.

Joel took one step closer to you, his voice low enough that only you could hear. "Save me another piece of that cake next time," he said, his eyes holding yours. "I’m already thinkin’ about it."

The way he said it made your breath hitch, the words laced with something unspoken. Then, with a small, knowing smile, he turned and headed to his house, leaving you standing on the porch with your heart pounding and your mind racing.

Ray didn’t notice anything, but you did—and so did Joel.

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

You and Sarah were halfway through The Longest Ride, laughter bubbling up as you playfully tossed popcorn at each other during one of the slower scenes. She had texted you a few days after the game, asking if you wanted to hang out, and you’d eagerly agreed.

The warm, golden glow of the living room lamps mixed with the soft flicker of the TV, wrapping the room in a cocoon of cozy chaos that muffled the storm’s furious howls outside. The rain lashed against the windows, but you hardly noticed, caught up in the moment. You were so absorbed in the film, neither of you heard the door creak open or the unmistakable sound of boots hitting the floor.

"Fucking hell," a deep voice growled from the hallway as the door slammed shut, caught by the gusting wind.

Both of you turned instinctively, startled, to find Joel standing in the entryway, drenched from head to toe. His hair was plastered to his forehead, stray raindrops tracing along the sharp line of his jaw.

Water trickled in rivulets down his neck, soaking into a shirt that clung to his chest and shoulders in a way that made your breath catch. His boots, caked with mud, squelched audibly as he yanked them off with a sharp, frustrated tug.

"Dad, are you okay?" Sarah asked, sitting up straighter. "I thought you were going to Uncle Tommy’s."

"I was," Joel grumbled, shaking out his jacket and tossing it over a nearby chair. "Got halfway there and had to turn back. It’s like a goddamn monsoon out there."

Joel hadn’t even glanced toward the living room, too preoccupied with muttering under his breath about the weather and hastily mopping up the puddle beneath him with a towel. His broad shoulders tensed as he wrung out the fabric, each motion deliberate and rough.

But when he finally looked up, his movements stilled. His expression shifted, the hard edges of his frustration melting away. His gaze softened as it landed on you, curled up on the couch beside Sarah, a blanket tucked over your lap.

"Hey, darlin’," he said, his voice low and smoother now, the rough edge from moments ago replaced with something calmer. He ran a hand through his soaked hair, pushing it back from his face as droplets fell to the floor. "Didn’t know you were comin’ over," he added.

You managed a small smile, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "Yeah, we’re just watching a movie."

Joel’s eyes lingered on you for a second longer before he nodded, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. You didn’t miss the way his gaze flicked briefly to the blanket draped over your legs—the same couch he’d no doubt spent countless nights on.

Something about the thought made your stomach flutter.

Sarah broke the moment, turning to you with a wide grin. "You should just stay over tonight. Ray wouldn’t mind, right?"

You blinked, startled by the sudden suggestion. "Well, I don’t think so, but—"

"Yeah, stay," Joel said before you could finish, his tone leaving little room for argument. "Don’t want you headin’ out in this storm."

You thought again about how your house was literally right next door. But the way Joel said it, his voice firm but edged with quiet concern, left you nodding before you could think better of it.

"You girls eaten?" Joel asked, heading toward the kitchen. The fridge door swung open, giving you a view of his back. His soaked shirt clung to him, highlighting the broad line of his shoulders and the muscles shifting beneath the fabric.

You caught yourself staring, heat rising to your cheeks as you quickly redirected your gaze to Sarah, hoping she hadn’t noticed.

"Yeah, pizza," Sarah said through a mouthful of popcorn, her attention already back on the TV.

Joel glanced back over his shoulder, his damp hair falling into his eyes as he gave you a brief nod. "Good," he said, his voice rumbling softly. "Storm’s supposed to last a while. Y’all need anything, just let me know."

You managed a quiet "thanks" as he closed the fridge and leaned against the counter, running a hand through his wet hair. The domesticity of it all—the three of you here, Joel casually moving around his kitchen—felt oddly intimate.

You couldn’t help but wonder if he noticed the way your eyes kept flicking toward him, if he felt the same quiet pull that had been buzzing between you since the moment you’d met.

As Joel left the kitchen, heading upstairs toward what you assumed was his room to dry off, you exhaled a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

The rain outside was relentless, hammering against the windows with a steady rhythm that made the night feel darker, heavier. You lay in Sarah’s bed, her soft snores filling the room, a gentle counterpoint to the chaos of the storm.

You’d texted Uncle Ray during the movie to let him know you were staying over, and his quick response—No worries, kid. I’ll see you in the morning—had put you at ease, but sleep still evaded you.

You turned onto your side again, then your back, cringing at how much noise you were making on the mattress. The last thing you wanted was to wake Sarah, but restlessness clawed at you. The glowing red digits of the alarm clock on her bedside table mocked you: 12:43 a.m.

With a soft sigh, you pushed the blanket aside and stood, the borrowed pajama shorts and singlet clinging to your skin in the stifling warmth of the room. The storm outside raged on, yet the living room felt almost oppressively hot, the flicker of the TV adding to the heavy air.

The house was eerily quiet as you made your way down the hall, the muffled sound of the storm your only company. You hesitated for a moment when you passed a door—the one you assumed was Joel’s.

It was shut, the faint light spilling out from beneath it casting a soft glow on the hardwood floor. You stared at it for a beat longer than necessary, your breath catching at the thought of him just on the other side.

Shaking your head, you tore your gaze away and continued down the stairs, the old wood creaking softly beneath your steps. The kitchen was dimly lit by a single light above the stove, and you found yourself drawn to the soft hum of the refrigerator. Opening it, you grabbed the carton of milk and poured yourself a glass, the cold liquid a small comfort against the heaviness of the storm.

Leaning against the counter, you sipped slowly, letting the chill settle in your chest as you stared out at the rain streaking the darkened windows. The quiet of the house wrapped around you, and for a moment, you let yourself enjoy the stillness, the way the chaos outside felt so far away.

You turned to put the milk back in the fridge when a shadow moved in the corner of your vision, a figure emerging into the dimly lit kitchen. You squealed, nearly dropping the carton, your heart lurching into your throat.

"Shit!" you gasped, clutching your chest.

Joel lingered in the doorway, his broad frame outlined by the faint glow spilling in from the hallway. His hair was still slightly damp from the earlier rain, tousled in a way that made your heart flutter. He’d changed into a plain t-shirt and sweatpants that clung to him in a way that felt almost unfair, the casual simplicity doing little to downplay his presence.

"You scared me, Joel!"

He raised his hands slightly in mock surrender, a hint of a sheepish smile tugging at the corners of his lips, his gaze warm and just a little apologetic.

"Sorry ’bout that," he said, his voice rough from the late hour. "Didn’t mean to sneak up on ya. Thought i heard someone down here, you alright?"

"Yeah, sorry I didn't mean to wake you," you said, still a little breathless. "I couldn’t sleep. Thought maybe some milk would help." You gestured toward the glass on the counter, feeling oddly self-conscious under his gaze.

"Don’t apologize," he said, his voice softer now, almost tender. There was a sweetness in the way he said it, unhurried and deliberate. As you leaned against the counter, sipping your milk, you noticed his eyes lingering on you, the shadows of the dimly lit kitchen casting an almost imperceptible veil over his gaze, but you didn’t miss it—the deliberate way he looked at you, slow and assessing.

Your pulse quickened as you suddenly became aware of yourself—the borrowed pajama shorts and singlet you were wearing, the way the hem of the shorts brushed against your thighs, and how the fabric of the singlet clung just a little too snugly in the humid air. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make you feel exposed under the quiet intensity of his eyes.

You shifted awkwardly, the cool countertop pressing against your palms as goosebumps prickled along your arms. "Couldn’t sleep either?" you asked, breaking the tense quiet. Your eyes followed Joel as he poured himself a glass of water, his movements unhurried but purposeful.

"Nah," he replied, his voice low, almost distant as he leaned against the counter opposite you, crossing his arms. "Storm’s loud as hell. Plus… hard to turn your brain off sometimes, y’know?"

You nodded, the weight of his words settling over you. "Yeah. I know." And you did—too well, in fact. Your curiosity flickered: what kept him up tonight? What thoughts chased him through the storm?

Joel broke the stillness first, his voice softer now, almost careful. "Glad you stayed over tonight. Safer that way," he said with a small nod, as though reassuring himself as much as you.

There was something in his eyes—concern, perhaps, or something deeper—that made your chest feel impossibly tight.

"Thanks for having me," you murmured, your voice quieter than you’d intended, unsure why the words felt so necessary to say.

Joel shook his head slightly, his lips twitching into the faintest hint of a smile. "Anytime," he replied, the simplicity of his tone somehow making it feel more sincere.

His gaze flicked toward the empty glass in your hand, and he nodded toward it. "You think that did the trick?"

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. "Nope. Not even close."

Joel’s smile widened slightly, and for a moment, you thought that might be the end of it. But then he glanced toward the dimly lit living room, the faint glow of the TV still visible from where you stood.

"Wanna watch a bit of TV?" he asked, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant. "See if that helps?"

You blinked, caught off guard by the offer. There was something about the way he said it—so casual, yet laced with something else—that made your stomach flip.

"Sure," you said softly, setting your glass in the sink before following him into the living room.

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

Joel grabbed the remote and settled onto the couch, the faint creak of the cushions breaking the quiet. He stretched out, one arm draped lazily along the back of the couch, the other resting on his thigh.

When he motioned for you to sit, you hesitated only for a moment before sinking down beside him, careful to leave just enough space between you to keep it comfortable—or at least, that’s what you told yourself.

You could feel the heat radiating from him, his presence impossible to ignore. His arm rested along the back of the couch, strong and relaxed, the effortless way he stretched out only drawing more attention to the empty space at his side. The thought crept in unbidden—how easy it would be to slip into that spot, to feel the solid warmth of him against you.

Your gaze drifted downward, almost of its own accord, settling on his thighs. They were spread apart in that effortless way he always seemed to sit, relaxed and confident, the fabric of his sweatpants stretched over them.

You swallowed hard, the sheer size of him suddenly overwhelming, the way his presence filled the space making you acutely aware of how small you felt by comparison. The thought sent a rush of heat to your face, your cheeks burning as your mind betrayed you with images you quickly tried to push away.

You shifted slightly, pressing your palms into your lap as if to ground yourself, but it didn’t help—his casual ease, the way he seemed completely unaware of the effect he had, only made it worse. Your heart thudded unevenly, and you forced your gaze back to the screen, praying he hadn’t noticed your flustered state.

He flipped through the channels before settling on an old movie. The name escaped you, but the grainy black-and-white film felt fitting for the quiet hum of the storm outside.

Joel started explaining something about the movie—how it was one of his favorites growing up, or maybe something about the actor. You nodded along, murmuring the occasional "oh" or "yeah," though your attention was split between his voice and the way his presence seemed to fill the space beside you.

Somehow, over the course of the movie, the space between you and Joel had disappeared. Your knees brushed at first—a light, fleeting touch that neither of you acknowledged. But as the minutes ticked by, your thighs pressed together, the warmth of him seeping into your skin in a way that made it impossible to focus on the screen.

You tried, though—eyes fixed on the TV, even as your heart raced. When you let out a small yawn, Joel’s attention shifted to you. He smirked, tapping your thigh lightly, his touch lingering just a second too long.

"Careful there, sweetheart," he teased, his voice low and warm. "You’re gonna miss the best part."

You blinked your eyes open wider, determined to shake off the haze of sleep. "I’m watching," you murmured, though your voice lacked conviction.

His knee pressed against yours a little more firmly, the gesture subtle but deliberate. The proximity, the teasing, the quiet intimacy of it all—it was enough to make you forget the movie entirely.

Eventually, the warmth of his voice, low and steady, became a gentle lullaby, weaving its way through the room. The steady patter of rain against the windows only added to the softness of the moment, a rhythm that seemed to synchronize with the deep timbre of Joel’s voice.

Your eyelids grew heavier with each passing second, despite your best efforts to fight it. You blinked hard, forcing yourself to stay present, but it was no use.

Joel didn’t even notice at first when your responses faded, replaced by the soft, uneven rhythm of your breathing. It wasn’t until he felt the faint pressure of your head against his side that he froze.

His arm, which had been draped lazily along the back of the couch, went rigid, his fingers curling instinctively as his gaze dropped to you. There you were, nestled against him, your head resting lightly on his side, your face softened in sleep. The sight pulled something taut in him, a mix of tenderness and hesitation that he didn’t quite know how to navigate.

Joel swallowed hard, the muscles in his jaw tightening as he grappled with what to do. The warmth of you against him was inescapable, the steady rise and fall of your chest matching the slow cadence of your breathing. It made him acutely aware of every inch of space between you—or rather, the lack of it.

He flicked his eyes back to the TV, but the movie had long since blurred into the background. His thoughts were consumed by the quiet intimacy of the moment, by the way you’d drifted so trustingly against him, unguarded and close in a way that made his chest ache.

Slowly, carefully, he let his arm relax, resting it just behind you, close enough to shield but not too close to wake you, his heartbeat thundering in his ears.

What the hell are you doin’, Joel? he thought, his heartbeat louder than it should’ve been. He could’ve moved you, gently eased you back into your spot—but he didn’t. He couldn’t.

Instead, he let himself sit there, unmoving, his body tense with the awareness of you. He told himself it was nothing—that it didn’t mean anything—but the way his gaze lingered on the curve of your face, the way his breath hitched when you shifted slightly against him, betrayed him.

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

The soft light of morning filtered through the curtains, golden and warm, casting a serene glow over the room. The storm from the night before felt like a distant memory now, the quiet chirping of birds outside replacing the relentless drum of rain. Joel stirred, his body reluctant to wake, comforted by a rare warmth that made him hesitate to open his eyes.

For a moment, he stayed still, his mind caught in that hazy space between sleep and wakefulness.

Something felt… different.

His arm was draped across something soft, and the faintest scent of something sweet—was it your shampoo?—lingered in the air. His brow furrowed slightly, his body stiffening as he became aware of the gentle weight pressed against him.

When Joel finally opened his eyes, blinking against the soft morning light, the realization hit him.

There you were, curled into him, your head tucked against his chest, one arm draped across his stomach like it belonged there. His arm, despite his best efforts to keep his distance the night before, had somehow found its way around your back, holding you close. Your legs were tangled with his, the blanket half draped over the both of you.

Joel froze, his heart thudding loudly in his chest as he tried to process the situation. How the hell had this happened?

Christ, he thought, his jaw tightening as he glanced down at you. The sight of you like this—so unguarded, so peaceful—did something to him he couldn’t quite name, something that gnawed at the edges of his carefully constructed walls.

His chest tightened with a mix of emotions he wasn’t ready to face, a part of him feeling uncomfortably exposed in the stillness of the moment.

Guilt crept in, sharp and biting. What the hell are you doing, Joel? he thought bitterly. Here he was, a man two decades older than you, sitting frozen while you rested so trustingly against him. He felt like a damn pervert.

This wasn’t just friendly. He knew that. And it wasn’t about the warmth of your body against his or the way your head fit so perfectly in the curve of his side. It was something deeper, more dangerous, something he couldn’t ignore anymore.

Joel’s gaze lingered on your face for a moment longer than it should have, his throat tightening as he took in the way the morning light danced across your features. He swallowed hard, his hand twitching as if to pull away, but instead, his fingers brushed lightly against your back, a touch so soft it barely registered.

The sound of birds chirping outside pulled him out of his thoughts, and he finally forced himself to shift. The movement was small, careful, but enough to jostle you slightly.

Your brows furrowed, and for a moment, Joel thought he’d woken you. But then you murmured something unintelligible, snuggling closer into him, your hand tightening its hold on his shirt.

Joel let out a quiet breath, his lips pressing into a thin line as he stared up at the ceiling. He was in trouble—he knew that much. Whatever mental line he thought he’d drawn had been obliterated in the span of a single night.

But as the morning light filled the room and your soft breaths continued to lull him, Joel couldn’t bring himself to move. Not yet. Not when the weight of you against him felt like the one thing he didn’t want to let go of.

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

You woke on the couch alone, the soft morning light streaming through the curtains and warming the room. Rubbing your face, you reached for your phone on the coffee table and checked the time—8:30 a.m.

You must’ve fallen asleep during the movie. Stretching your legs out, you glanced around.

Joel was nowhere to be seen, and you figured he must’ve gone upstairs sometime during the night. Hell, you thought, I must’ve been a heavier sleeper than I realized.

Footsteps thudded softly on the stairs, and Sarah appeared, her hair tousled and her eyes still heavy with sleep. She yawned as she shuffled into the living room. "Where’d you go last night?" she asked, rubbing at her eyes.

"Couldn’t sleep," you replied with a shrug, stretching your arms above your head. "Ended up watching some TV for a bit."

She nodded, yawning again as she glanced out the window. "Oh, look at that—storm’s gone, and it’s gorgeous out. Feels like it never even happened."

Her gaze shifted toward the stairs. "Where’s Dad? He’s usually run a marathon or something by now. "

You laughed lightly, shaking your head. "Haven't see him this morning. Maybe he decided to sleep in."

Sarah snorted, making her way toward the kitchen. "Yeah, right. That man doesn’t know how to sleep in. I bet he’s already up and out doing something."

She walked over to you, balancing a bagel in her mouth while rifling through a cabinet with one hand. "I’m gonna head upstairs to shower," Sarah said, her words muffled around the bite she’d taken. With her free hand, she pulled out a neatly folded set of towels and handed them to you. "Here—so you can use the downstairs one."

"Sounds good," you replied, taking the towels from her with a small smile. She flashed you a quick grin before heading upstairs, the sound of her footsteps disappearing as she retreated to her room.

You lingered for a moment, glancing at the towels in your hands, before stepping into the bathroom. The soft click of the door shutting behind you felt strangely loud, the space quiet except for the faint hum of the water pipes as you turned on the shower.

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

The hot water cascaded over your body, soothing the restless ache left from the night before. The heat seeped into your muscles, loosening the tension you hadn’t realized you were holding.

Steam curled around you, fogging up the glass as you closed your eyes, letting the steady rhythm of the water drown out everything else. For a moment, it was just you, the warmth, and the faint sound of droplets hitting the tiles.

But your thoughts wouldn’t stay quiet. They wandered back to last night, to Joel, to the way you’d both sat on the couch, your legs pressed against each other in a way that felt so natural, so easy.

The memory of his warmth beside you, the slight weight of his presence, made your chest tighten. You wondered when he’d gone upstairs, and a pang of regret settled in your stomach.

A part of you wished you hadn’t fallen asleep, that you’d stayed awake just a little longer—stolen a few more moments with him.

Those moments with Joel always felt fleeting, precious, as though the world conspired to keep them rare. The thought lingered in your mind until a faint sound jolted you back to reality—the distant buzz of your phone ringing.

"Shit," you muttered, realizing you’d left it on the kitchen counter. The water continued to run over you as you hesitated, your hands hovering mid-air, water dripping from your fingertips as you debated.

Leave it? The logical side of you argued it’d probably stop ringing by the time you turned off the shower, got out, and threw something on. But then again… what if it’s important?

You groaned softly, torn. The steam curled around you, the bathroom growing warmer as your mind raced. Finally, you turned off the water with a decisive twist, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around yourself hurriedly. Better safe than sorry, you reasoned, stepping out of the shower and heading toward the kitchen, water trailing in your wake.

If Joel’s still asleep and Sarah’s upstairs, it’s fine, you told yourself as you cracked the door open, peeking out.

You stepped into the kitchen, your footsteps soft against the cool tiles, and immediately froze.

Joel stood at the stove, his broad frame dominating the small space, one hand gripping a spatula as he expertly flipped something golden and round in the pan. Pancakes. The rich scent of butter and batter filled the air, making your stomach tighten despite the whirlwind of emotions lingering from the night before.

His t-shirt stretched snugly across his shoulders, every shift of his muscles evident beneath the soft fabric. The hem lifted just slightly as he moved, revealing the faintest glimpse of tan skin and the subtle indent of his back dimples. It was such a small, fleeting detail, but it struck you like a lightning bolt, your breath catching as you took in the sight.

Your stomach dropped. Fuck. The phone had already stopped ringing, making your rush utterly pointless. You froze in place, gripping the towel tighter around yourself as your heart hammered in your chest. Just turn around, you told yourself, get back to the bathroom before—

But before you could move, Joel turned.

“Good mornin’—” he started, his voice low and easy, before his words died on his lips as his eyes landed on you.

His eyebrows shot up, his expression faltering for a split second. His gaze dropped, flicking over your body in a way that wasn’t intentional, but you caught it anyway. The towel was just a little too short, revealing more than you would’ve liked, your damp hair clinging to your shoulders.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, so quiet you almost didn’t catch it, the roughness of the word sent a shiver through you anyway. His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, his grip tightening on the spatula like he was trying to steady himself.

You tightened your hold on the towel, your cheeks burning as you felt his eyes dart back to your face.

Say something, you thought desperately, your voice coming out uneven and breathless.

"I—I thought you were asleep," you stammered, shifting on your feet. "My phone was ringing, and I thought I’d just…" You gestured vaguely toward the counter, the words falling flat under the weight of the moment.

Joel turned back slightly, his movements slow and deliberate as if he was trying not to startle you—or himself. His gaze stayed polite now, carefully fixed on your face, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes. Something dark and unspoken that made the air between you feel heavier, charged.

“Oh, no worries,” he said finally, clearing his throat and reaching to rub the nape of his neck. His fingers lingered there, the movement almost nervous—a rare sight for someone usually so steady. His voice was lower than usual, gravelly, like it took effort to keep it even. "Hope you slept alright last night."

"Yeah," you said quickly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I did. Thanks."

The silence stretched for a beat too long, the tension thrumming between you like a current you couldn’t escape.

You stepped forward, snatching your phone off the counter as quickly as you could, your hands trembling slightly. "I’ll just… grab this and get out of your way," you murmured, your voice thick with embarrassment.

Joel didn’t move, but you could feel the weight of his eyes on your back as you turned to leave. "Alright," he said softly, almost too softly, his voice carrying something you couldn’t quite place.

You bolted back toward the bathroom, your heart pounding as you shut the door behind you. The steam from your shower still clung to the air, but it did little to cool the heat rising in your chest.

Pressing your phone to your chest, you let out a shaky breath, your mind replaying every detail of the encounter. The way his eyes had lingered, the rough edge to his voice, the tension that had filled the room like a tangible thing. You tried to shake it off, telling yourself it was nothing—but the way your pulse refused to settle betrayed you.

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

Joel stood in the kitchen, one palm pressed flat against the counter, the other rubbing at his eyes as he let out a slow, measured breath. The room was quiet now, save for the faint sizzle of the pancake batter still cooking in the pan, but his thoughts were anything but calm.

You’re gonna be the death of me, he thought, his jaw tightening as he leaned into the counter.

Joel could still see you, the image burned into his mind no matter how much he tried to focus on the task at hand. Fresh from the shower, the towel clinging to your damp skin, outlining every curve in a way that left very little to the imagination.

The dip of your breast where the fabric didn’t quite meet your skin, the faint sheen of water droplets catching the light as they slid from your shoulders down to your thighs—it was impossible to look away, even as he forced himself to.

And then there was the way you’d stammered, your voice breathless and soft, tinged with embarrassment. It made his cock throb - a mix of guilt and desire that he couldn’t quite shake.

He shouldn’t have looked as long as he had, shouldn’t still be thinking about the way your hair dripped onto your shoulders or how your cheeks flushed pink under his gaze. But damn, it was all he could think about.

Joel had always prided himself on his self-control, on his ability to keep things steady and measured, but you were shaking the foundation he’d built so carefully.

"Christ," he muttered under his breath, dragging a hand down his face, his jaw tight with frustration. He should’ve known better—should’ve stopped his thoughts from spiraling the moment they started.

But here he was, muttering a string of curses under his breath as he strode upstairs to his room, his hand already working at the button of his jeans before the door even clicked shut.

The strain in his pants was unbearable, every ounce of tension caused by you.

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

Tag List:

@pedritospunk @ickearmn @nrreads @76bookworm76 @pastelpinkflowerlife @shantellorraine @spooky-sculder @merm4id5lut @brittmb115 @rosebuds-and-moonlight @joelscowgirl @spacemamax @locked-ness @bensonispunk @pal3rmo @mystickittytaco

[focusonkayjay]

between the ride and the roses (9)

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: biker/ motorcycle shop owner! jungkook x flower shop owner! reader, enemies to lovers, opposites attract, slow burn, angst, smut, fluff

Series summary: There's an insane turn of events when your calm and peaceful life is intruded by Jungkook, a biker boy who sets up his loud business right next to your own. Your paths cross under unlikely circumstances, starting with a clash of personalities but gradually you find yourself establishing a deeper connection with the annoyingly attractive biker jerk. You both have no idea what's in store for you guys as you try your best to put up with each other.

Word count: 3.5k

Chapter Warnings: it's finally the day of the fair, there's tension, bike ride, they're just too cute

A/N: might be one of my most fav chapters that i've written up until now. i personally love the fair scene a lot and omg ahhh jungkook is so cute. we're finally getting close to something. can't wait hehehehe. stay tuned and let me know your thoughts <3

part 9: wheeling through the lavender breeze

D-Day; The day arrives bathed in golden sunshine, the town raging with excitement. It’s the day of the fair, and everyone has poured their hearts into its preparation. By noon, vendors are bustling about, arranging their stalls and testing their games, while colorful streamers flutter in the gentle breeze.

The aroma of freshly baked goods mingles with the faint tang of fried treats, filling the air with a sense of nostalgia and anticipation.

As the clock strikes four, the fair officially begins. Crowds gather, filling the once-quiet town square with laughter, chatter, and the occasional shriek of joy from children trying their luck at the game stands. Everything has fallen into place, every detail, every decoration, every event like pieces of a perfect puzzle.

You and your friends are a bundle of energy as you dive headfirst into the fair's festivities. Namjoon, ever the intellectual, lingers at the trivia booth, determined to win a stuffed panda for Juwon, who laughs at his serious expressions. “Joonie, it’s just a plush toy, not a Nobel Prize." she teases, earning a playful glare from him.

Meanwhile, Seokjin and Taehyung are at the dart stand, where Jin, with his trademark overconfidence, declares he’ll hit the bullseye. “Watch and learn, peasants.” he smirks, only for the dart to land embarrassingly off-target. Taehyung howls with laughter, clutching his stomach. “Hyung you're a true champion!” he snorts.

Sunjae drags you towards the ring toss game, and as you toss rings together, he nudges you playfully. “Bet you can’t beat me.” he says. You smirk, your competitive streak kicking in.

By the end of it, you’re both laughing uncontrollably, arms weighed down with the silly prizes you’ve just won, ranging from keychains to plastic crowns and a plush cat that you can’t resist keeping for yourself.

The group jumps from stall to stall, savoring churros dipped in chocolate and slurping down colorful shaved ice. It’s a day of simple joy and happiness, only made brighter by the presence of your closest friends.

On the other side of the fair, Jungkook wanders with his group of friends. Yoongi strolls at an unhurried pace, a relaxed smile gracing his face. His hands rest comfortably in his pockets as he takes in the vibrant atmosphere, a quiet sense of pride swelling within him for the part he played in bringing this fair into life.

Hoseok, in contrast, is a ball of energy, dragging Jungkook to a basketball hoop game. “Come on, man, show them what you’ve got!!!” he cheers as Jungkook effortlessly lands shot after shot, earning himself a stuffed bunny prize that Hoseok is quick to keep for himself.

Jimin, ever the charmer, flirts his way to extra turns at the candy claw machine, much to the amusement of the group. “Watch and learn, Jungkook.” Jimin quips as he retrieves yet another lollipop.

Despite the company of his friends, Jungkook’s thoughts keep drifting back to you. His sharp eyes scan the crowd, catching glimpses of your laughter, your playful antics, and the way the sunlight dances across your features. You’re radiant, your joy infectious, and it tugs at something deep inside him.

Last night’s moment in the storeroom replays in his mind like a never ending loop... the way your breath hitched, the warmth of your skin under his fingertips, the soft whisper of his name. He had been so close, so achingly close to pulling you in and just kissing you. The memory burns, and he clenches his jaw, frustrated by the distance now separating you.

His gaze finds you again, this time at a food stall. You’re sipping lemonade, your lips quirking up into a grin as Sunjae says something to make you laugh. Jungkook’s chest tightens. He doesn’t know how to explain it, but seeing you like this... happy, glowing, and so effortlessly beautiful makes him fall harder, faster, deeper.

He knows he should focus on the fair, on his friends, but every fiber of his being wants to be near you. To hear your laugh up close, to feel your touch again. But not yet. Tonight, he tells himself. It has to wait until tonight.

//

As the clock nears six, the fair transforms into something out of a storybook. Fairy lights strung along the trees flicker to life, casting a soft golden glow. Lanterns sway gently in the breeze, their warm hues giving the town square a magical charm.

The sound of children’s laughter is joined by the distant strumming of guitars, signaling the start of the evening performances.

You pause for a moment, your gaze sweeping across the vibrant decorations that adorns the fairgrounds. The floral arrangements, each carefully placed, now seem to glow under the warm lights, accentuating their colors and adding a touch of elegance to the scene.

You feel a wave of pride as you take it all in, your chest swelling at the realization of what you and the rest of the volunteers have accomplished.

Just days ago, this fair felt like a daunting task, a nightmare of to-do lists, late nights, and endless arrangements. Now, it’s a masterpiece. The flowers you chose, the garlands you hung, the small details you agonized over... it’s all come together, creating a space that feels alive and enchanting.

“Wow.” you whisper to yourself, unable to suppress the smile spreading across your face. It’s a moment of quiet triumph, shared silently with the fair itself, as if it’s rewarding your hard work with its newfound beauty.

Eventually, the performances start. The first act is a children’s dance group, choreographed by none other than Juwon. She stands at the edge of the stage, practically vibrating with pride as the kids twirl and hop in sync. “Look at them go!” she gushes, clapping enthusiastically.

Taehyung grins, leaning over to Namjoon. “Juwon’s going to be the next big choreographer. Mark my words.”

“Already calling it.” Seokjin agrees, stealing popcorn from your bag. “Hey!” you protest, slapping his hand away. Finally, the children finish their routine to a roaring applause. Juwon beams, her eyes shining with happiness as the kids take their bows.

//

The night deepens, and the concert begins. The stage is bathed in soft, ethereal light as a local band plays slow, romantic tunes. The crowd sways gently, hands raised, their movements in sync with the music. It’s a moment of collective peace, an almost perfect ending to a bustling day.

Amid the sea of people, your eyes meet Jungkook’s again. He stands at the edge of the crowd, his dark hair falling across his forehead, his expression unreadable. But his eyes... those pretty eyes... they’re locked on you, burning with an intensity that makes your breath hitch.

Your heart races as you try to focus on the music, but your thoughts betray you. Last night’s moment in the storeroom, the lingering looks throughout the day, the way your body aches to be near him... it all bubbles to the surface.

Do you feel something for him? Of course, you do. But is it fleeting, or is it something deeper? As the music swells, so does the turmoil in your heart. Your gaze flickers back to him, and for a moment, everything else fades... the crowd, the music, the fair. It’s just you and him, two souls pulled together by an invisible string.

But tonight isn’t over yet. You push the thoughts aside, silently promising yourself you’ll confront them soon. For now, you let the music guide you, your heart beating in time with the melody and, perhaps, with his.

As the concert ends and applause fills the air, an announcement crackles through the speakers, inviting everyone to the open field just beyond the fairgrounds for the final event of the night: stargazing. The crowd buzzes with excitement, parents tugging their children along, couples holding hands, and friends chattering eagerly as they make their way towards the dimly lit path leading to the field.

The field stretches wide and open, a canvas of lush grass under a sky that seems impossibly vast. The lights from the fair are distant now, leaving the stars to claim their throne.

Tiny specks of light twinkle against the inky blackness, brighter and more abundant than you’ve ever seen. Someone has laid out blankets in a semi-circle for people to sit or lie on, while lanterns placed on the periphery cast a soft, warm glow that doesn’t disturb the night sky.

You settle onto one of the blankets with your friends, the chatter among you gradually softening as the beauty of the scene washes over everyone. Taehyung stretches out, resting his hands behind his head. “I could just live here forever.” he murmurs, his voice tinged with awe.

“Yeah, but where’s the Wi-Fi???” Seokjin quips, breaking the reverent silence. Laughter ripples through your group, light and easy, before quieting again as you all gaze upward.

Not far from you, Jungkook sits on the grass with his friends. Yoongi, as usual, seems perfectly content to enjoy the moment in silence, while Hoseok chatters about the stars and how he used to imagine himself as an astronaut. Jimin teases him endlessly, saying, “Yeah, Hobi, you’d make a great astronaut, especially with your fear of heights.”

Jungkook chuckles at their antics, but his focus is elsewhere. His dark eyes keep drifting back to you. You’re lying on the blanket, your head tilted towards+ the heavens, your profile illuminated by the faint glow of the lanterns.

His heart feels heavy and light all at once. He watches the way your lips part slightly in awe, the way your fingers absentmindedly brush a strand of hair from your face, the way the stars seem to reflect in your eyes. It’s as if the universe has conspired to make this moment just for you, and he’s lucky enough to witness it.

He thinks about the storeroom incident again... the way your lips felt against his cheek, the way your voice trembled slightly when you told him to wait five minutes. He remembers the panic in your eyes, followed by that fleeting kiss, and something inside him stirs. Last night was the beginning of something, he’s sure of it.

And yet, he knows this isn’t the moment to bridge the distance. He has to wait, as much as it pains him. But the night feels infinite, and in its quiet magic, he allows himself to hope.

As the stargazing continues, some of the organizers hand out tiny glass jars with glowing fairy lights inside, a gift for everyone to take home. Children gasp and squeal in delight, running around the field with their jars, pretending to catch fireflies. You can’t help but smile at their joy, hugging your own jar close as the warmth of the moment fills your chest.

//

Eventually, the night of the fair slowly winds down, the music softens, and the once-bustling crowd begins to thin. The fairy lights still twinkle above, casting a dreamy glow over the remnants of the evening's magic. You find yourself walking back towards your shop, the sounds of the fair fading into the background.

Stepping inside, you make your way to the counter, rifling through your bag to ensure you’ve gathered all your belongings. You spot the plastic crown you won earlier in one of the fair games, its shiny surface catching the light, and try to fit it neatly into your bag. A quiet knock on the glass door pulls you from your task.

Startled, you glance up and freeze. It’s Jungkook. He stands still just outside, his hands in his pockets, a gentle smile playing on his lips. His eyes meet yours, full of warmth and a hint of something unspoken, and instantly, your cheeks burn, your heart skipping a beat.

You fold almost immediately, unable to suppress the shy grin that spreads across your face. Slowly, you move towards the door, your gaze locked with his, as if tethered by some invisible force. When you open it, the barrier between you disappears, leaving the two of you face-to-face under the quiet night sky.

“Jungkook…” you greet softly. The weight of unspoken words lingers in the air, but you push it aside for now. All that matters is the present moment, standing here with him. “Long night, huh?” he says casually, his voice light, though his eyes hold a depth you can’t quite decipher. He's still in the same spot, his feet glued to the entrance outside your shop.

“Yeah… the fair. It’s finally over.” you breathe out, glancing behind him, over his shoulders towards the quieting square. “It was... magical.” you add, a soft smile tugging at your lips.

When you look back at him, you notice the way he’s staring at you, the hint of a smirk curling one corner of his lips. “The fair is over… but the night...” his voice trails as he continues. “the night is still young.”

You tilt your head in confusion, but curiosity flickers in your chest. He reaches out his hand, palm up, the silent invitation clear. “Come with me?” he asks, his voice gentle but firm, his eyes glimmering with a playful tease. A laugh escapes you but you still find yourself placing your hand in his. “Come with you? Where?”

“You’ll see...” he replies simply, his smirk deepening into a full smile, the kind that sends your heart fluttering.

With no hesitation, you trust him. After switching off the lights in your store and locking the door, you follow him into the night, your hand still securely in his. The fair may be over, but something tells you the night’s magic is far from done.

Jungkook leads you to his bike, parked right outside his shop. Two helmets rest on the seat, a small detail that sparks both curiosity and excitement. Gently, he lets go of your hand, picking up one of the helmets and holding it out to you.

“Wear this.” he says simply, his tone soft but firm.

You take it from his hands, your fingers brushing against his for a fleeting moment. Despite holding the helmet, you remain rooted to the spot, your gaze fixed on him as he fixes the helmet over his head, still trying to process what was happening.

He notices your hesitation and chuckles lightly. “Come on, just trust me." he says, stepping closer. Before you can react, he takes the helmet from your hands and carefully places it over your head.

His hands work with a gentle precision as he adjusts the fit, his fingers brushing your jawline while he clips the buckle below your chin. The proximity makes your heart race, and you try to steady your breath as he steps back, admiring hoe adorable you look.

“We’re taking your bike?” you question the obvious, the confusion and curiosity evident in your voice. He nods, his lips curving into an almost teasing smile as he swings his leg over the bike, taking a seat.

“Mhm.” he hums, settling in and gripping the handlebars with ease. Turning his head slightly, he flashes you a cheeky grin. “Hop on. We’re going for a ride.”

For a moment, you hesitate, glancing between him and the bike. But the glimmer in his eyes and the excitement in his voice are contagious. You know you’re about to step into the unknown, and yet, you can’t bring yourself to say no. With a deep breath, you take a step forward, ready to join him on this spontaneous adventure.

You’re wearing a long, sleeveless flowy summer dress, its fabric brushing gently against your legs, paired with a loose-knit sweater that drapes carelessly over one of your shoulders. The thin strap of your dress peeks out from under the sweater, the slight exposure making you self-conscious for a fleeting moment. You adjust it nervously as you prepare to climb onto Jungkook's bike.

Sitting behind him isn’t easy, especially in a dress, but you manage to settle yourself carefully, your knees tucked close and your hands unsure of where to rest. The bike rumbles softly beneath you, and you feel the cool evening breeze starting to sweep through your hair.

“Hold onto me.” Jungkook says, his voice calm yet firm, as he looks back over his shoulder.

You tentatively reach out, your fingers grazing his sides before resting lightly on his torso. The hesitation in your touch makes Jungkook chuckle softly, the sound low and warm. “Come on.” he teases, his grin audible in his voice. “You’re not gonna fall off, but you might if you’re this shy about it.”

Before you can respond, he reaches back, his strong hand wrapping around your wrist as he pulls your arm forward. The sudden motion causes you to gasp softly, and you find yourself pressed against his back, your arms now circling his torso completely.

“You gotta hold on tight.” he says, his voice softer now but laced with amusement. The warmth of his body seeps through his leather jacket and your sweater, and you can’t help but feel the strength and steadiness beneath your palms, through the thin material of his t-shirt that peaks between the zipper of his jacket.

Your cheeks burn, but you comply, gripping him a little firmer. Jungkook revs the bike, the vibrations sending a thrill through you as the realization hits... this moment, this closeness, it’s real.

“Better.” he murmurs, as if reassuring you both. Then, with a slight tilt of his head and a quick glance back, he says, “Ready?”

You nod, even though he can’t see it, your heart pounding against your ribcage. With a flick of his wrist, the bike roars to life, and the world around you blurs as the two of you take off into the night.

The ride is sensational. Jungkook zooms past the dimly lit streets, the glowing storefronts and scattered streetlights blending into streaks of color. The rumble of the engine vibrates through your whole body, and the cool night air brushes past your skin with a ferocity that sends your adrenaline skyrocketing.

You clutch onto Jungkook tighter as the wind whips through your hair, the speed thrilling and a little terrifying at the same time. Yet, instead of fear, an exhilarating sense of freedom takes over. It’s as if the world around you has melted away, leaving only the pulse of the bike beneath you, the blur of the road ahead, and the warmth of Jungkook’s body against yours.

When he speeds up, you can’t help the breathless laugh that escapes your lips, the sheer rush making you feel alive in a way you’ve never experienced before. You tilt your head back slightly, letting the breeze carry your laughter as if it could echo through the night.

The road soon opens up onto an empty bridge, the lights from the railing casting faint glimmers onto the endless stretch of the road. With no other vehicles in sight, it feels like the entire world belongs to the two of you. The vast sky above, dotted with stars, mirrors the open road below.

“Having fun?” Jungkook’s voice cuts through the wind, deep and playful, somehow carrying over the roaring engine and rushing air. You don’t answer right away. Instead, a grin breaks across your face, and without thinking, you throw your head back and scream. “Wooooooo!”

Your joyous cry echoes through the empty bridge, wild and untamed. Jungkook glances back for a second, his laugh joining yours, a genuine sound of delight and appreciation. He loves this moment... your carefree energy, your laughter, the way you’re soaking it all in.

“You’re something else.” he mutters to himself, the words swallowed by the wind, though the warmth in his tone lingers. Time seems to stretch and blur, the ride feeling both endless and fleeting. The stars above seem brighter now, the night unfolding into something magical as Jungkook continues to glide across the open road.

But just as you think the ride might never end, the bike begins to slow down. The engine’s roar softens to a hum, and the rush of the wind eases, letting the sounds of the night seep back in... the gentle chirp of crickets and the faint crashing of waves.

You look up, your surroundings coming into sharper focus. On the right, the vast expanse of the ocean unfolds before you, the moonlight dancing on its surface. Your breath catches as you realize where he’s brought you. The beach.

Jungkook pulls over to the side of the road, cutting the engine. The sudden quiet feels almost deafening, except for the rhythmic lull of the waves crashing against the shore.

“Surprise.” he says softly, glancing back at you with a small smile. His helmet’s visor is up, and you can see the glimmer in his eyes.

For a moment, you’re speechless as you still hold onto him, the beauty of the scene stealing your words. The vast ocean stretches endlessly before you, and the night feels alive with some kind of possibility.

<- part 8 // part 10 (coming soon) ->

series masterlist

taglist:@kimyishin @ghijkd @dolligguk @mimi1097 @jksusawife @yooforeaa @abbie1847 @myjungkookthighs @thesarcasmqueen-22 @fairypjminie @lovelytaes-blog @jjeonjjk7 @daddyjeonnn @vantelover1306 @jeeykey @shellyyy177 @daskewl @blackswan18 @korian97 @minimoninini @ericawantstoescape @rpwprpwprpwprw @tokkiggukie @jaytheatiny

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

Bestie! Once again, I am absolutely obsessed with your work! Jason is absolutely adorable and a bit of a dork, and I fall in love with him every time!! Just him doing things for you without looking for a thanks or a reward is so him. (I talk about my fav parts below the cut)

“That red tin man…” You firmly looked over to the window, the shiny, newly replaced lock calling your name. “Let’s see how well your safety measures work.” You shut the window, doubling the two locks installed by Jason himself, giving you a personal pep talk ensuring that no one is getting in. Not even him, especially him.

Using his OWN safety measures against him?? Incredible. Insane. I'm on their side.

Jason was off patrol, his muscles ached, his helmet felt heavy, but he was grappling his way to the small 24-hour mart that he has been cutting the cameras at.

ughh, this paragraph is just such great storytelling. He's tired, he's pushing himself too hard, but he's still just thinking of you. How he can make your life better, easier.

It was perfect for a quick look in, place the items, and go back to his safe house. He gripped the window, gently trying to lift with the shopping bag on his arm. When it wouldn’t budge, he tried one more time with a little more force.

See, I love him for this, fr. But also, you're stopping by and not even planning on saying hi! Come when they're awake! We want to see you, I swear! And the fact he expected the window to open reads to me that we have not been using that lock at all, which has me giggling. We're unknowingly supporting his bad (but sweet) habit.

As Jason was going to turn on his infrared lenses, his phone vibrated in his pocket.

HA! Love the casual usage of vigilante gear

You: yes, jay, you do. So please use my front door cause you are welcome to use it Jason reread the message. He held his eyes on the word “welcome,” feeling his chest tighten slightly.

Omg my heart. He's acting like a stray, but he's wanted and welcomed at home

Hey, sorry, I’ve just been breaking in and refilling your groceries and anything that seems to be running low? I also got you some seasoning salt, you were running out.

Off topic, but I just know he got the good spices! Honestly, he's so sweet for taking care of them, but also let us return the favor! I just wanna make him a warm meal and wrap him in a blanket so he can sleep.

Jason noticed how tired you looked. He felt even worse picturing you staying up until he attempted to open your window. What if he hadn’t come by tonight? He didn’t move from the door, watching from just outside your apartment.

my heart!! OW! I'm yanking him inside and making him hot chocolate.

“Five months, 2 weeks.”

!!! 🫢

“Jay…I’m not mad.” You reached out to grab his hand, kneading warmth into his bruised knuckles. “Really. I just need you to tell me when you do this.”

The little, comforting touches are just so ahhh. Love it!

“You were busy…and I thought I could get them for you. I made sure to get the right ones.” Jason watched your hands, refusing to look at you directly.

He's a sweetheart, and I'm weak in the knees. Someone get him a forehead kiss and tuck him into bed.

“I know. You did so well that I took so long to realize. But, I work. I can get these things and you can get me things too, but let me know, please. That would help me out a lot and so I can thank you.” “But I don’t do it for your words. I like helping you. If it lessens your stress, I’ll do it for you.” Jason reasoned.

Singing his praises fr, he deserves it

“I’m not a burglar.” Jason argued, taking off his jacket and laying into the couch, grabbing you to lay on top of him.

This is just soo fluffy! I love it, and I'm giggling and kicking my feet over them! He's not a burglar, but he is precious. Fantastic work as always 🥰💙

Delivery

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

Summary: Lately your grocery list was looking a little small, your cleaning supplies were never running out, and you don’t remember buying these soaps? Who was the one refilling all your stuff?

Word Count: 1.5k

Something was off.

You were writing your list for your weekly shopping errands to refill any soap, groceries, or cleaning supplies running low, but nothing was empty. Half a bottle at best.

It had been bothering you that your large restocks that made you wince at the end of the month looking at the large receipt had minimized to five items at most.

How was this possible?

You didn’t cut down on spending or on using less items, but now that you look at your kitchen, everything was well stocked.

You counted the amount of extra paper towel rolls, the extra unopened cleaning spray that you do not remember buying, and the new bottle of cooking oil in your cabinet.

This was suspicious, very suspicious.

Call yourself the world’s second greatest detective because you narrowed down the culprit restocking your home.

“That red tin man…” You firmly looked over to the window, the shiny, newly replaced lock calling your name. “Let’s see how well your safety measures work.”

You shut the window, doubling the two locks installed by Jason himself, giving you a personal pep talk ensuring that no one is getting in. Not even him, especially him.

With some duct tape, you taped layers over the window seal. As you looked at your work, you thought to yourself…bookcase, yes. A large bookcase.

With heavy breaths, you pushed the bookcase in front of the window.

You were not letting in your not-an-actual-burglar tonight. Now you would wait.

—

Jason was off patrol, his muscles ached, his helmet felt heavy, but he was grappling his way to the small 24-hour mart that he has been cutting the cameras at.

As much as he wouldn’t be shopping with his gear on, the small store was enough for him for a quick shop and the cashier was a tired college student who couldn’t care less about who walked through the sliding doors.

He remembered you were running low on some hand soap in the kitchen and a replacement seasoning salt.

He hummed as he shopped, walking up to the counter to leave extra cash and disappearing before the cashier had time to turn back to give him back his change.

Jason softly landed on the fire escape outside your window. He waited to watch and listen for any movement inside your apartment.

The lights were off and you had to be asleep.

It was perfect for a quick look in, place the items, and go back to his safe house.

He gripped the window, gently trying to lift with the shopping bag on his arm. When it wouldn’t budge, he tried one more time with a little more force.

He put down the plastic bag and noticed you were using the lock he installed. It brought a small smirk to his face at the thought of you utilizing something he made himself.

When he looked closer, he realized the small sliver of light on the edge of the window, blurring from the curtain.

Something was blocking the light, your lights hadn’t been off at all.

As Jason was going to turn on his infrared lenses, his phone vibrated in his pocket.

You: so you were my burglar

Jason held in his laugh, fully piecing the situation together.

Jason: but I haven’t stolen anything

You: so breaking and entering? This is illegal trespassing sir

Jason: glad the lock works, but have to deduct points for the duct tape

You: if it can hold cars together, it can hold my window shut, even better if it keeps vigilantes out of my home

Jason: but I still have your apartment keys

You: yes, jay, you do. So please use my front door cause you are welcome to use it

Jason reread the message. He held his eyes on the word “welcome,” feeling his chest tighten slightly.

Jason: let me change. Be back in 10

Jason felt like an idiot, realizing he had been caught. He pulled an ordinary T-shirt over his head. His matted hair slightly fraying to the movement.

He exhaled in exhaustion as he pulled a jacket over his shoulders and grabbed the plastic bag from earlier.

How was he going to explain?

Hey, sorry, I’ve just been breaking in and refilling your groceries and anything that seems to be running low? I also got you some seasoning salt, you were running out.

Jason smacked the side of his head.

You had to be pissed because you locked the window and clearly barricaded it.

Jason got to your door, somehow, he felt his eye-bags deepen, his frown get stronger, and his hands felt colder.

With reluctance, he knocked three times. You had unlocked the door surprisingly fast, he figured you were waiting right there until he got to your apartment.

“Come in.” You left the door open for Jason, walking back to the kitchen to pour your tea.

Jason noticed how tired you looked. He felt even worse picturing you staying up until he attempted to open your window.

What if he hadn’t come by tonight?

He didn’t move from the door, watching from just outside your apartment.

“I just wanted to bring these over, I’ll leave now.” He tried to run. He needed to leave before you told him to never come back.

“Jay…” You walked over, grabbing onto his sleeve while guiding him inside. He was cold. “Shoes off. Sit on the couch.”

He immediately obeyed not wanting to anger you more.

You followed and sat next to him, your comfy clothes sinking into the cushion.

Jason looked over to the bookcase you clearly moved not long ago.

“I didn’t realize I hired a delivery man. Actually, I’m more embarrassed I finally realized what you’ve been doing.” You sipped at your cup. “How long?”

Jason tilted his head at your question.

“How long, Jay?” You emphasized.

“Five months, 2 weeks.”

“Five months?!”

“I made sure to make it very subtle, but eventually I…got carried away.” Jason admitted, his body stiffening the more honest he became.

“Jay…I’m not mad.” You reached out to grab his hand, kneading warmth into his bruised knuckles. “Really. I just need you to tell me when you do this.”

“But the bookcase and the lock.” Jason subtly relaxed to your touch, but he was far from leaning into the couch comfortably.

“Okay, I was a little mad, but that was because I had only realized that I haven’t properly restocked anything in a while. I looked at my store apps and card history and I had nothing. Just snacks or last-minute purchases.” You sighed, signaling Jason to give you his other hand to warm.

“You were busy…and I thought I could get them for you. I made sure to get the right ones.” Jason watched your hands, refusing to look at you directly.

“I know. You did so well that I took so long to realize. But, I work. I can get these things and you can get me things too, but let me know, please. That would help me out a lot and so I can thank you.”

“But I don’t do it for your words. I like helping you. If it lessens your stress, I’ll do it for you.” Jason reasoned. He was stubbornly defending his actions because you were at the root of his mind.

You were at a loss for words.

“It did help me out a lot, but it also confused me when I had an unlimited bar of soap.” You chuckled.

The sound of your laugh eased Jason. His shoulders sunk a little lower at your tension easing.

“No more frowning.” You rubbed the edges of his mouth and his furrowed brow. “I found out, you owe me dessert tomorrow, and you can get back your window privileges when you let me know when you buy me something.” You yawned.

“I said that I don’t do it to hear you thank me—“ He tried to remind you.

“I know, but I’m tired from trying to catch my burglar and I want to cuddle.” You opened your arms, waiting for Jason to ease into your embrace.

“I’m not a burglar.” Jason argued, taking off his jacket and laying into the couch, grabbing you to lay on top of him. “Did you also take another shift? You look exhausted.”

You rubbed Jason’s eye-bags when you settled comfortably. You were probably matching his raccoon eyes.

“Kiss me and I’ll go to sleep.” You smiled, sleepily touching Jason’s stubble with your hands.

He leaned into your hands, while gripping underneath your chin to bring his face to yours. The sweet touch of your lips was enough to get Jason to fully relax into you, to take in the moment and trust that you weren’t mad at him for what he was doing. It had been with good intentions, but he was just taking a different route.

“Go to bed.” Jason leaned your head onto his chest.

Your eyes got heavy, your breathing was starting to even out, but you had one last idea.

“If you tell me when you buy something, I’ll give you a kiss.” You faded into a deep sleep.

Jason had never forgot to tell you again, he even purposefully bought you extra things you didn’t need to buy.

You eventually had to start setting limits and unlocked your window for your favorite vigilante visits.

[parkerluvsu]

love to keep me warm (art donaldson x fem! reader) 🧣❄

i love the winter weather/so the two of us can get together

the knock on your door isn't surprising. you stop the whisking of your cookie batter to open the door, met with art donaldson and his adorably ruddy cheeks. "hi" art says quietly, his breath creating a misty cloud in the chilly air. you usher him in, watching as he removes his fuzzy hat (given to him by you last year when you were briefly infatuated with knitting), his hair a little messy. you step forward and reach out for him, sweeping his blonde hair out of his face for him. art, ever shy, gives a small "thank you" <3

there's nothing sweeter, finer/when it's nice and cold

art is happy to help you sprinkle chocolate chips into the dough, popping a few into his mouth with a smile. he watches you put the cookies into the oven adoringly, trailing after you like a puppy when you make your way to the couch, laying next to you and finally relaxing as you lean your head against his shoulder, his nose filled with the scent of your sweet shampoo and the cookies currently baking in the oven <3

i can hold my baby closer to me/and collect the kisses that are due me

art smiles as you snuggle closer to him, wrapping a long arm around you as you both watch the window, looking outside at the fluffy snow that is starting to fall on the ground. it makes you cold just looking at it, and you shiver just a little. art can tell though, and he reaches and grabs one of the thick blankets on your couch, wrapping it around you both. this act of kindness warms your heart, inspiring you to pull his face closer to you and kiss him softly <3

i love the winter weather/'cause i got my love to keep me warm

art kisses you back, as always, following your lead and letting you take control. you're not interested in taking it further right now though, so you break the kiss, smiling at arts quiet whine when you do. you lay your head on arts chest, sighing when he wraps the blanket around your shoulders. art runs his fingers through your hair, making little curls with his finger. even as the weather becomes increasingly cold outside, you don't feel the chill at all, and you doubt you will ever again. all because you will always have arts love to keep you warm <3

[twistedwonderlandshenanigans]

Burn Out

I would. Absolutely do the cast but. Consider. The casts parents instead.

Also as you can probably guess, I'm feeling burnt out so my writing may not be as good as it usually is but fuck it we ball. Yes I will be using headcanon names for the Cast Parents because. um. I can.

Family Headcanons here if you want to read.

Also there's no Diasomnia except for Sebek. Sorry. Don't attack me please I beg OTL NO SPOILERS PLEASE OTL ----------------------------------------

Dr. Carlotta Rosehearts is not the type of woman to be easily impressed. Burn out is something only the weak experience, though if you weren't raised by her, she can hardly blame YOU for your poor constitution. While she's not all that sympathetic, she can find a small, easy task for you to complete to feel like you've been productive, useful, and otherwise intelligent.

Dr. Lawson Hatter, Riddle's estranged (engineer) father couldn't be any MORE experienced with burn out. He's awkward, he's odd, but his antics are sure to put a smile on your face. He can spot someone trying to work through burn out easily - not in his house baby, he's spinning that chair around and away from the desk, you're coming to get snuggled up and watch a movie with him and his kid(s). He'll make you tea (or coffee if you want it), a bunch of snacks, and promises to help you with your work later. Right now is time to let that all go and let your brain be mush for a bit. It's okay.

Amelia and Tarrant Clover - they're a little burnt out constantly themselves, but there's always room at the table for one more. Their home is only a good option if you like little kids though, because they WILL treat you like you're their big sibling almost immediately. They don't mean to come off as a little uncanny, but they genuinely do love having guests so much. Be prepared for So. Much. Food. If you can't really handle the hubbub of the family, that's okay too. Amelia will invite you to join her for her evening prep. She has a way of making you let all those feelings come out when it's just the two of you, and by the time you're done crying, she's got fresh banana bread and hot chocolate in front of you, with a pat on the back. She'll hug you if you want it too.

The Diamond couple have way too much tension between them to be of much help to you. Cater's older, but not eldest, sister, Catrina, is rather reserved and quiet when she's allowed to be. She'd be the one to take you into her room, do your hair, maybe some aromatherapy and tai chi. She's learned a lot of ways to relax over the years, she's just happy to share it with someone who is too exhausted to be fake with her. willing to let her help.

Dylla Spade hi, hello, did you want to make a top three guardians list? Dylla is there, promise. There is no overworking in her house. She can appreciate the dedication, but 1. you are actively harming yourself, 2. you should never work that hard in a workplace, why are you doing it for free /hj. She'll try to interrupt once or twice with the bribe of a small snack, or with going out somewhere, but if you're stubborn she's got to pull out the big guns. Big guns being she puts a photo of baby Deuce on the desk next to you and tells you if you want to know the story you're going to stop, go take a shower to give your brain a transition period out of work and go meet her in the kitchen. She's not the best cook but by god you know everything she gave you she gave with love.

Jack Trappola-Hearts is not Ace's dad, (ew, says Ace in the back of my mind), but his big brother. He's got a humble, somewhat dated one-bedroom apartment. He'll sleep on the couch though, so you can have the bed. (If Ace is there, Jack will sleep on the floor). He likes keeping you entertained and smiling, so he'll take you around town to (free) but fun areas. He doesn't expect you to verbally respond if you don't want to, and if you need to, he'll happily create a way for you to communicate when you're ready to go home. He'll keep you distracted from your responsibilities and burdens until he knows you can tackle them full force again.

Falena Kingscholar has a BIG and BRIGHT personality. He means the best, but he can sometimes be a little insensitive to your efforts, (as he was to his brother). He's also very busy and repressing his own burn out and Other Emotions, but don't fret. Kifaji will look after you. He's careful to not hover, but he always pops in with exactly what you need. He can't be as attentive as he would like, but he does know where the younger prince used to sneak off for naps. He may or may not drop a hint or two as to where those places are, and he may or may not have made sure to set the area up with soft lighting, music, blankets and curtains to give you some elevated sense of privacy without being overwhelmed by your surroundings (hopefully).

Vovó Bucchi (yes I borrowed a headcanon name provided by @kamiraaah (sorry for the tag, if you want it removed lmk!! ^^) can't help but make fun of you a tiny bit, but it's all just to remind you that hard work is meant to be rewarded. Hard work is meant to be balanced out with something else. While you're clearly bright, you're apparently not bright enough to realize when you need a break on your own /lh. She'll ask you to tell her about the things you HAVE accomplished over the past month while cooking food for the family, (and yes, having you be her taste tester all through out it), and wait til you're done to ask what you've done to motivate yourself to keep going. If you've got nothing, she's going to tell you to come home with Ruggie at the end of every other week. Yes, home. You're hers now. Good luck escaping custody.

Citlali and Ande Howl couldn't be more opposite in how they try to help you through burn out. Citlali is just a 4'2 ball of energy and affection, you best believe she's got hugs for days, homemade quilts to pile on you, a hot chocolate she meant to give you about 40 minutes ago but forgot while she was rambling, (she'll heat it back up), a child to hand you - wait, no that's going to her husband, that's not your responsibility. She'll talk your EARS off, but you come to love it. Ande is much more stoic, a little intimidating to some, and very awkward. Mans does not know how to come off as friendly. He offers a hug if you need it. Best hug of your life. He will also show you where you can go to brood get a breath of fresh air and relax.

Clara and Ginerva "Nonna" Ashengrotto (you MAY NOT call Nonna anything but Nonna. Only Nonna's friends can call her Ginny, and 'Ms. Ashengrotto' is her daughter.) Clara and her mom are both all too familiar with the dangers of burn out. You get burnt out, you make bad decisions, bad decisions lead to trouble down the road and honey you do not need to make your life any more complicated than it already is. Sit down, stuff your face, listen to jazz, be happy. Basic rules. Your plate will not be allowed to be empty, be prepared to probably eat so much you pass out, which will be the one and only bad decision you make that day, but it's better than Nonna asking why you ain't eatin' her cooking. If you do get too full, don't worry, they'll tease but they'll pack up what's left and the other 27 meals they prepared for you to take home. (Nonna is partially deaf so you will have to raise your voice a bit so she can hear you clearly).

guysguysguysguysguysguysguysguys it's my favourite next do you know who's my favourite I know who's my favourite I literally wrote this just so I could write for her do you know who's my favourite fuck YEAH YOU DO

Valeria Leech (and her husband I guess but I'm pretending Constantine Leech is not there because I want to focus on the queen that is Mama Fucking Leech)(He would be kind of detached anyways he doesn't know you and he doesn't owe you nothin', his wife just said he wasn't allowed to eat you). ANYWAYS. Mama Leech has a lot of energy, Floyd had to get it from somewhere and it is absolutely from his mama. While she can be a little all over the place, clearly her boys appreciate you if they went through the effort to bring you to her, and that means um. You're her kid now too. She will treat you like she treats her sons. This means an overwhelming amount of physical touch (she will tone down if asked or if her husband reminds her that not everyone is comfortable with that), a lot of food being offered to you, you get the (second) best bed in the house, she has already bought you new clothes- ordering on land clothes, but also things tourists to the Coral Sea would wear. Because how can you expect to overcome burn out when you're stuck in a rut and nothing has changed. You need a good sleep schedule, a good meal, and a way to feel fabulous about yourself. And probably a hug and a good cry session. And maybe a hobby to let out all that steam, do you want to learn to fight hand to hand or do you want to collect tiny glass figurines, she'll buy the same subscription as she has if you want she LOVES little glass figurines they're cute and delicate just like elvers are. She will cry when you have to go back to land, promise her you'll call her if you need her for anything. Whether it's a hug or hiding a body. She's got your back. Also in the top 3 mama's tbh but I'm very very very biased but I also still think I'm right.

Akram al Asim is a little lost on what to do, but Kalim cares about you, so so does he. He doesn't really know what to do on an emotional basis, so he gives you money and tells you that if staying in the palace is too much, you're welcome to go stay in one of their private mansions instead. And if you need more money to just ask. So staying at "home" and having someone cook and clean for you while you get to do nothing is a 10/10 way to help burn out. He does not know how to help people that are stubborn or reject his gift unfortunately, he just kinda stands there like a deer in the headlights, then just welcomes you to stay in his home as long as you like. (This is a bad idea, you're a friend of Kalim's and given the family dynamics we know about you may very well be used as leverage, um. yeah. That's not very cash money.)

Nasir and Amani Viper can offer their home and to share dinner with you, but they are kept busy all day. They can recognize burn out - they've seen it in their son, and experienced it themselves, but they've never gotten a break to work through it. They'll tell you to rest, to eat, to make yourself at home, but it's a little awkward to relax when everyone around you is working.

Eric Venue oh dear. oh dear, oh dear oh dear. Burn out is a killer of creativity darling, and we simply cannot have that. Again, not someone who can help all that much directly, he'll toss a little money at you and get you into a luxurious spa to get you to relax again, to rejuvenate your skin and your mind. Also concerned for your mental health and MAY have paid off a therapist to become your friend so you'll never know you're receiving therapy throughout the entire thing, you'll cry, you'll let that out, and you'll never see that friend again. But you don't know that yet and for now you feel better!

The Hunts fall into the bottom category of parents. Ibis Hunt, Rook's next eldest sister (bc I think the Hunt's named their kids after birds), will try her best. She practically raised Rook, so she knows what a good night out by the campfire can do, campfire dinner, marshmallows, a couple goofy songs on the guitar, and a horror story if you think you can handle it. She'll keep your mind off of things.

Meemaw (Marja) Felmier can and will bop you over the head with her cane if she sees you trying to work when you clearly can't anymore. "You're so worn slap out y'ain't got 'nother ounc'a thinkin' in there. Y'got a hankerin' for somethin'? I'll fix it up right quick. Come on now, carryin' on on an empty stomach ain't gonna fix y'problems." She purposely has you sit on the comfiest chair on the house, layers you up in blankets, gives you a stuffy and warm apple cider because she KNOWS you're gonna pass right out. And when you wake up, there will be Marja's famous apple crumble with homemade vanilla ice cream waiting for you, trust.

Dr. Isla and Rodian Shroud are HUGE advocates for self care, but know sometimes it takes another person to pull you away from what's frustrating you. Isla will GLADLY take you on in a gaming competition - and she might even take it easy on you. And you'll hear her full Aussie accent come out any time you over take her in the equivalent of Mario Kart. Rodian is much more likely to be subtle in the way he helps, asking you to come assist on a project. Idle prattle turns into a deeper conversation that lets you open up to him, and the simple tasks he gives you to make you feel like you're being useful help a lot too. If you do end up crying, he'll offer a hug, and then a place to sleep off the rest of the emotions. You'll wake up to a 3D printed figurine of your favourite animal, cookies, and a thermos that kept the milk cold. The last of the Mom top 3 imo. (Mom's do not include grandma's btw thus the exclusion of Vovo and Marja /lh)

Baul Zigvolt okay listen. Modern day? I can't help imagine him with a big beer belly and a laugh to match. He's lost all the intensity he had in chapter 7 (thus far, no spoilers please lol). If you're feeling burnt out, he's giving you food the way he would have given it to baby Sebek - he's still adjusting to humans, so forgive him for cutting everything up so small, but hey, hopefully you won't choke? And some water. He's got a lovely voice, so with your permission, he'll read to you or tell you stories from when he and Lilia were younger - or if you really want it, he'll sing you to sleep...that's his goal anyways. He will not let you sleep in though LMAO, you went to bed early, get ready to be up at the crack of dawn lol.

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

Anyways, thanks for reading my Partially Coherent Ramblings. Let me know if you want to be added to my taglist

@my-cursed-brain @fluffle-writes @distant-velleity @starry-night-rose @theleechyskrunkly @elenauaurs @lumdays @nemisisnemi

[hrrtshape]

✶ EMMA's SHIFTMAS !

hi, lovies!!

HAPPY DECEMBER !!! ❄️❄️❄️❄️🎄🎄🎁🎁🎁 the most magical time of the year is finally here (AND we're not going to let capitalism ruin it, are we?????), and what better way to celebrate than with my first ever SHIFTmas!!!!!!!! whether you decide to answer these prompts every day like a cosy advent calendar or dive into them all in one go (because who can resist?), this is all about bringing some holiday cheer into your shifting journey.

happy holidays from your tumblr nutcracker oracle !!!!! let’s make this december enchanting.

much love and mistletoe magic. mwah mwah

— day 25. WHAT'S THE CHRISTMAS DECOR IN YOUR DR LIKE? minimalist and chic, with subtle gold and white tones? over-the-top with a ten-foot tree covered in every ornament imaginable? or maybe it’s just simple and cosy with vibey fairy lights strung across every corner of the house?

— day 24. WHAT’S THE FIRST GIFT YOU’RE UNWRAPPING IN YOUR DR? is it sentimental, like a handwritten letter or a locket? something extravagant, like designer shoes or rare books? who’s it from, and does it make your heart skip a beat?

— day 23. WHO ARE YOU DECORATING THE TREE WITH IN YOUR DR? are they a perfectionist, placing every ornament just right? or do they turn it into a total mess, throwing tinsel everywhere while making you laugh until you can’t breathe?

— day 22. WHAT WINTER ACTIVITY ARE YOU DOING IN YOUR DR? do you hit the slopes for skiing in some glamorous european mountain town? go ice skating under fairy lights? or are you more into the quiet charm of building snowmen and sipping hot cocoa by the fire?

— day 21. WHAT CHRISTMAS TREATS ARE YOU BAKING IN YOUR DR? are you rolling out gingerbread dough and decorating them with icing? baking buttery mince pies or indulgent yule logs? who’s helping, and who’s sneaking bites when you’re not looking?

— day 20. WHAT’S THE MOST SILLY GIFT YOU’RE GIVING SOMEONE IN YOUR DR? is it something meaningful, like a handpicked vintage record player? a magical experience, like a surprise trip to the northern lights? or something totally fun and random that makes them laugh? 

— day 19. WHAT’S YOUR DR CHRISTMAS OUTFIT? are you dressed in something glamorous, like a red satin gown and sparkling jewels? or maybe you’re keeping it cute and cosy with a knit jumper, wool socks, and a flowy skirt? what’s the vibe?

— day 18. WHAT CHRISTMAS SONG IS THE SOUNDTRACK TO YOUR DR HOLIDAY? is it classic and nostalgic, like silent night or have yourself a merry little christmas? or something upbeat and fun, like last christmas or jingle bell rock?

— day 17. WHAT’S YOUR DR HOLIDAY TRADITION? do you have a tradition of opening one gift on christmas eve? maybe it’s a movie marathon in matching pyjamas or a midnight snow walk where everything feels magical.

— day 16. ARE THERE ANY PETS INVOLVED IN YOUR DR HOLIDAY? are there puppies wearing little santa hats? a kitten snuggling under the tree? or maybe you’ve got a reindeer waiting outside (okay, fine, maybe that’s a bit extra).

— day 15. WHO ARE YOU KISSING UNDER THE MISTLETOE? be honest—who’s the lucky one? is it someone you’ve been secretly crushing on, or is it your dr partner? describe the setting—is it private and dreamy, or in front of everyone, making the moment unforgettable?

— day 14. WHAT’S YOUR DR CHRISTMAS SHOPPING SPREE LIKE? do you wander through twinkling markets, sipping mulled wine and picking out thoughtful gifts? or are you hitting luxurious boutiques, wrapping up extravagant surprises? 

— day 13. WHAT FESTIVE FILMS ARE YOU WATCHING IN YOUR DR? do you go for classics like it’s a wonderful life, home alone or the holiday? cheesy rom-coms? or something indie and arthouse to match your dr aesthetic? 

— day 12. WHAT’S YOUR DR WINTER DRINK OF CHOICE? are you sipping on rich hot chocolate with whipped cream? mulled cider or wine? or something unexpected, like a peppermint mocha or a chai latte?

— day 11. WHO’S PLAYING SANTA IN YOUR DR? is someone dressing up and handing out gifts? are they taking it seriously and nailing the jolly vibes, or does everyone immediately guess who it is because they’re hilariously bad at keeping the secret?

— day 10. WHAT’S YOUR DR’S CHRISTMAS CARD LIKE? is it a glossy, glamorous photoshoot with your dr family? a hand-drawn masterpiece that feels personal and sweet? or maybe just a cosy polaroid moment caught by surprise?

— day 9. WHAT COSY OUTFIT ARE YOU ROCKING WHILE LOUNGING IN YOUR DR? are you in matching flannel pyjamas with everyone else? snuggled in cashmere joggers and an oversized knit jumper? or maybe you’ve gone for full comfy princess vibes with a silky robe and fur-lined slippers?

— day 8. ARE YOU WRITING CHRISTMAS CARDS IN YOUR DR? if so, who are you writing to? do you keep them sentimental and sweet, or add a little humour? are they handwritten on fancy stationery, or quick notes tucked into presents?

— day 7. WHAT’S YOUR DR’S HOLIDAY DINNER LIKE? is it a grand feast with everything from turkey to trifle? a cosy, intimate dinner by candlelight? or something unique, like a themed dinner party or a picnic-style meal by the fire?

— day 6. WHAT’S THE MOST MEANINGFUL GIFT YOU’RE RECEIVING IN YOUR DR? is it something unexpected but thoughtful, like a scrapbook of your favourite memories? or something you’ve been dreaming of for ages? how does it make you feel? 

— day 5. ARE THERE ANY MAGICAL/WHIMSICAL CHRISTMAS MOMENTS IN YOUR DR? do you experience something dreamy, like a snowfall that seems to glow under the lights? a surprise nutcracker performance? or maybe just a quiet moment that feels straight out of a fairytale?

— day 4. ARE YOU ATTENDING ANY FANCY DR CHRISTMAS PARTIES? is it a glamorous soirée with champagne and twinkling chandeliers? a warm, laughter-filled house party with friends? or maybe an exclusive, mysterious event with glittering masks and high fashion? 

— day 3. WHAT’S YOUR DR’S IDEAL HOLIDAY DESTINATION? are you spending the season at a luxurious ski lodge in the alps? a snowy, storybook-style cottage in the woods? or maybe somewhere tropical and unexpected, where you’re sipping coconut water instead of cocoa?

— day 2. HOW DOES YOUR DR PERSON/PEOPLE SURPRISE YOU FOR CHRISTMAS? do they whisk you away on a magical trip? give you a gift that’s so perfect, you never saw it coming? or do something small but meaningful that makes your heart ache with happiness? 

— day 1. WHAT’S THE BIG CHRISTMAS DAY VIBE IN YOUR DR? is it pure morning chaos with wrapping paper flying everywhere? a soft, intimate moment with hot coffee and warm blankets? or something cinematic, with golden light streaming through the windows and everyone gathered together?

&&&&&& biggest thank u and ib @solstices-dreams !!!!!!! DO HER SHIFTMAS FOR THAT XXXXXTRA sprinkle of motivation and christmas cheer !!!

[csainzsgirly]

I came across this on Twitter and just need a bit of Carlos fluff 😪 Maybe the reader comforting him after this? https://x.com/sextappen/status/1862475685970784505?s=46&t=p5sYAMSk8Ik3q_9U0csk7Q

fyi: i chose the middle pic randomly, idc about isa/rebecca, just thought the pic was cute (: Also, I don't know the details of this whole thing, so just enjoy the fluff x

synopsis: carlos just finding out his contract at ferrari is not renewed and his life briefly collapses (x)

One of your hands is supporting your head while your other is holding a book. You're curled up under a blanket on the sofa, a couple of vanilla candles lit up on the table, cozy lightning on. Carlos had told you a couple of hours ago he was driving his Ferrari back to Monaco instead of staying the night in Milan, which surprised you, as he normally took a hotel when he had a late afternoon meeting at the headquarters of his team, but apparently not today. The smell of chocolate chip cookies was still filling the kitchen, warmth blossoming in your chest at the thought that your boyfriend would be home again soon. It was January, and as Carlos picked up his training for the new season again, you would soon be home alone when he travels to Portugal for training camp. For Monaco terms, it was rather chilly outside, the Christmas weather lingering, which you loved. Partly because Carlos would always leave one or two of his hoodies for you.

They were your favorite. They smelled like him, they were so warm and cozy, getting you through the weeks he would be away. You heard the faint ding of the elevator at the end of the hallway, your fingers flicking another page while his keys rinkled in the door. "Mi vida?" his voice sounded, making you place the bookmark between the pages and get up. "It's dark here," he chuckles a little, his arms wrapping around you while you bury your face in his chest. "How was it? Do you want coffee and a cookie?" you chirp, moving into the kitchen while Carlos turns on another small lamp. "No, thank you," he replied. "Sure no cookie? They're freshly baked!" Carlos heart clenched a little in his chest, but there was no way he would get a cookie down his throat. "I'll taste them tomorrow, I promise," he says, sitting down on the sofa, leaning his elbows on his knees while he moves his hands over his face.

The drive home had been so cruel to him. He had been alone with his thoughts after everything that was discussed. It had been so much. His heart sunk again at the words that he was going to be replaced at the end of the season. He thought his time with Ferrari would have no end. The red... It fitted him so perfectly. You could feel something was wrong when you walked into the living room to join him. "Baby?" you asked, your hand brushing over his cheek before you sat down next to him. "My contact is not getting renewed," Carlos spilled right away. You felt your heart stop for a second. Your hands were freezing all of a sudden. "What?" you asked. "They told me that I'll be replaced at the end of the season. This is my last season with Ferrari," Carlos continued, running his fingers through his hair, gnawing at his bottom lip after. "I don't get it," you whisper. Ferrari was... everything he wanted, everything he dreamed of.

And you knew how exciting he was after his last meeting in Maranello, when they showed him how the car was developing. He was so eager to start again, knowing that his feedback had helped to improve the car. With everything coming up, the rule change in 2026, in his dreams he was winning titles with this team. "That's exactly what I said," he chuckled in disbelief. "They managed to get Lewis Hamilton, so I guess I never stood a chance against that," Carlos said, letting himself fall back against the cushions. It was silent for a second, and you didn't manage to keep your eyes from watering. "It broke me," he softly said. "And it makes me question what I did wrong, why they told me I didn't have to worry. I'm entering the season with finding a seat being on my priority list instead of winning races." He pinches the bridge of his nose, seeing you were struggling to hold back tears.

"Don't cry, mi amor," Carlos hums, bringing you into his chest. "It'll be fine," he kisses the top of your head. "I should be telling you that," you sniffle, knowing that he won't end up without a seat, but you can sense that he's acting tougher than he feels now. "I called my dad on the way home. I didn't want to stay there any longer," Carlos says, his thumbs drying your cheeks. "Forgot to cancel my hotel," he lets out a humorless laugh. "What now?" you hum, your fingers curling into his shirt as he pulls you onto his lap. "The hunt for a new seat starts now. Anything is open," Carlos says. "I should be able to get a good seat, right?" his eyes dart over your face. "Every team boss who's not calling you tomorrow is an idiot," you said. He smiles at your attempt to cheer him up. "They're putting up a statement at the end of the month to announce Lewis and... my departure," he said. "It hurts a lot."

Your fingers lift to trace his face, finding his pouty lower lip that he can't even force into a tight-lipped smile. "I know, and I hate you're leaving for Portugal in three days, feeling like this. Did you speak to Teto on the way back?" you asked, to which he nods. "Yeah, I did," Carlos replies. "We'll get through it," he adds, taking a deep breath. You look into his deep brown eyes, caressing his face again before kissing his lips. You were about to pull back, but his arms hold you tightly against his chest, to kiss you a bit longer. "I have to confess something," Carlos speaks against your lips. "I kind of want a cookie." It makes you laugh and your heart blossom at the same time. He was always like this. In times when he was hurting the most, he was still trying his best to make others happy. "We can get the plate, milk and get under the blanket?" you suggest. "Sounds perfect," he says, kissing you once more.

Carlos lifts you up with ease to put you on the floor, moving into the bedroom to get changed into something more comfortable. You get the plate of cookies you baked from the kitchen, taking the milk and two glasses to dip the cookies in. You snuggle up under the blanket in the corner of the sofa, sinking into the cushions with the plate on your lap. Carlos reappears, dressed in a pair of sweats and a black hoodie. "I will leave this one for you, mi vida," he says, a finger under your chin angling your face up to his so he could press another delicious kiss to your lips. "The gray one is my favorite," you say, eyeing how good he looks in this hoodie too, anyway. Carlos moves your legs on his lap as he gets under the blanket with you, taking a cookie from the plate to taste it. He groans at the taste. "You said no to this earlier, can you imagine?" you tease him. He laughs, but you can't see it reaching his eyes.

"Tell me about the book you're reading," Carlos says, needing something to get his mind off things. "You're gonna be so bored," you warn, but he shakes his head. "Just tell me something." He rests his head atop of yours, fingers wrapping around yours.

[madaqueue]

SUGAR AND SPICE — choso kamo x f!reader

@luv-lies | event masterlist | matchmaking : building gingerbread houses

cinnamon and nutmeg hang in the air, wafting from the kitchen. at the table, ingredients are spread to every corner: gumdrops, shredded coconut, chocolate chips, anything the two of you could find to craft the perfect gingerbread houses.

yours is going well - it at least hasn’t collapsed yet. there’s a nice path made of crumbled cookies leading to the tiny wafer door, with candy shingles carefully attached to the roof.

choso, meanwhile, sits with his back facing you. every time you attempt to catch a glimpse of his creation, he shifts, blocking your view with his shoulders. all you can make out are thick, furrowed brows as he works.

“almost done,” he smiles with a glance towards you. “just putting the finishing touches on!”

which would be sweet, you think, except he hasn’t reached for anything in the past twenty minutes beyond the giant bowl of frosting.

“don’t you want to use any candy though, cho?”

he just chuckles, pink dusting his cheeks. “no, no, i’ve got everything i need!”

absentmindedly, you pop a few gumdrops into your mouth, letting the chewy sugar melt on your tongue. placing a few candy canes along the edge of your plate, you form a makeshift fence for your perfect little baked home as you wait.

“aaaand, done!” he exclaims suddenly.

stepping to the side, he reveals his gingerbread house: white icing drawn in the shape of your name, surrounded in hearts, covers the walls. on the roof, he has written ‘i love you’ in his neatest cursive.

“well? what do you think?” he nervously fidgets with his hands while you take it in, holding his breath.

just as your mouth opens to compliment him, tell him how it’s perfect, how he’s perfect, how he makes you feel warm and safe in a way no one else ever has before, something shifts. in an instant, the walls cave in, his creation collapsing into a pile of frosting.

“nooo,” he pouts, reaching out to salvage what he can but only ending up with sticky fingers.

your palm rests lightly on his wrist, and you place a soothing peck to his cheek. “i love it, cho, it’s perfect.”

“i just…i wanted to make something as pretty as you are.”

“well,” you giggle, “it might not be as pretty, but it will certainly be more delicious.” through a smile, you take a piece of the gingerbread, still warm as it crunches between your teeth. clove and spices meld on your tongue before offering it to him. he takes a bite, resting his head on yours, sugar and sweet.

a/n: MY DEAR LUVIE!!!!! thank you for letting me play matchmaker teehee :3 our poor sweet boy is just doing his best hahahahahaha i thought he'd be nice and cozy and caring <3 thank you for always being so kind and being such a lovely person to talk to, i love you sm!!!!

[chthonic-cassandra]

deeply deeply ambivalent about this medical leave, but I'm doing it. so. trying to think about how to make it as pleasant as possible.

no amount of rest is too much

if I have energy, the priority is finishing my Yuletide fic (is the actual reason I took medical leave because I knew that if I didn't I would have to default and break my 18 year streak? maybe)

walks in the park and around the neighborhood, sitting down if/when I get heart symptoms. stretching at home. barre only if my energy levels get better and my heart rate is consistently lower

I have somehow ended up with both a tea and a hot chocolate advent calendar despite not celebrating Christmas, so let's try a new tea and a new hot chocolate each day in December. maybe also a new perfume sample.

(oh yes, totally forgot that Christmas is not the same as new year's, so that doesn't cover the entire month. But I should have plenty of teas for the remaining days)

as many baths/showers as I want, especially given the particular ways being sick has been triggering me. ask partner to buy me some more nice bath things when he is out.

lots of dvds from the library

bake whatever the hell I want, even if I don't have people to give it to

slowly/gently organizing the apartment would be a good idea, as would appreciating things we have (cds, coloring books, whatever) that I don't typically make regular use of

another priority is not letting eating disorder stuff creep back, which it is threatening to do

you succeeded in advocating for yourself so you're using your sick time and being paid your full salary for this time. so please stop being neurotic about this and be okay with using that money on things which do make this time as pleasant as possible.

[psychobrew]

do u think harry/ginny ever fought

Yeah, totally, all the time:

“Ted! Ted, look what Dad charmed for me.”

He glanced up at James, who hopped aboard an old-model Firebolt Harry had charmed to fly only a few feet off the floor. He leaned forward and the broom puttered along at a modest pace. 

As the broom neared her, Rose made a dramatic show of shrieking, ducking down and covering her head.

“Make him put it away,” she whined. “‘s making me feel unsafe.”

“Your mum taught you to say that,” James taunted.

“It’s my turn,” said Fabian, rising to his feet and giving James a forceful shove.

“Hey. Stop it. Stop it!” James yelled, aiming a kick at Abe and missing. “Faby!” he said in a sing-song voice, “Faby the Baby!”

“Mum said you couldn’t call me that!” said Abe.

“Mum’s not here!”

Ted rolled his eyes, resolutely bookmarking his page in Hogwarts: A History – a gift from Hermionie, since he’d start school next year.

“Knock it off,” he said, trying to project his voice in a way that sounded authoritarian, “or I’ll get Uncle Ron.”

“Daddy doesn’t scare us,” said Rose.

“I’ll get Aunt Hermione,” Teddy qualified. 

James made a show of pretending to faint off the Firebolt, falling to the floor in a dramatic heap. Abe swung his leg over the broom immediately and took off. “Oh, no,” said James, “not Aunt Hermione.”

“You cried last time Mummy told you off,” Rose piped up.

“Did not!” 

“Did too!”

“I’ve never cried in my life!”

The sound of the front door opening echoed through the chambers at Grimmauld Place. Ron’s voice carried up the stairs –

“Oh, thank god you’re back. Harry, your children are right nightmares.”

“Where are they?” asked Ginny.

“Upstairs with Teddy,” said Hermione. “Well, Lily’s in the kitchen with Hugo.”

“Finger painting,” Ron said brightly, “they made a huge mess, too.”

“I hoped they behaved,” said Ginny. “I’m in a bloody awful mood, thanks to Harry.”

Teddy’s ears perked. He scooted closer to the door to have a listen – James caught on and came bounding over.

“Mum and Dad are home!”

“Shhh.” Teddy held a finger to his lips. “They’re arguing, I think.”

Abe and Rose were standing over his shoulder now, too. James cocked his head to the side. “Arguing bout what?”

“Is Mummy mad?” asked Abe. “I hate when Mummy’s mad.”

“Oh, Merlin. What’d you do?” they heard Ron ask accusingly, presumably directed at Harry.

“He lost us the quiz, is what!” Ginny shouted. 

“Hey,” that was Harry’s voice, interjecting, “in my defense –”

“There is no defense,” said Ginny. “Do you know what he did?”

“Enlighten me,” said Ron.

“Oh, don’t,” Harry groaned.

Teddy’s heart thudded against his ribcage. He’d heard Gran talking about Aunt Cissy’s divorce, how it still wrecked her, even after all this time. 

“When you marry a person, you think that’s who you’ll be with for the rest of your life,” she’d rambled, bustling around the kitchen while Teddy worked through a stack of chocolate frog cards. “And when it doesn’t turn out that way, it's quite jarring.”

Teddy couldn’t imagine Harry and Ginny splitting up. The thought of it made him sick with worry. He glanced back at James and Abe, clambering to press their ears against the door. How might they turn out, as children of divorce? Not well. It might be worse than having no parents, even – having parents who hated each other.

He pushed them away from the door. They shouldn’t have to listen to this.

James shoved back. “I wanna hear!”

“Quit it,” Teddy snapped. “Go find your Firebolt.”

“I said I wanted a turn!” Abe yelled, and they both pounded away in search of the broom.

Rose hung behind. She looked up at him with big, worried eyes. “What are they fighting about, Teddy?”

“Shh. I’m trying to listen.” He pressed his ear to the door again, Rose standing back at a respectful distance. 

“It only made sense to me,” Harry was saying, “since they didn’t win the cup –”

“I thought you were the youngest Seeker in a century!” Ginny bellowed. “The best fucking quidditch player in the history of Hogwarts!” – Ted made a note to check for that in his book – “You can have the most points in the league and still lose the cup, you bloody idiot!”

“Sit down, Ginny,” said Hermione. To Teddy’s confusion, she seemed to be laughing. “You’ve both had a lot to drink.”

“Not enough!” Ginny yelped. “I could kill him.”

“You wouldn’t be the first to try,” Harry said dryly. 

“Oh, the Chosen One card won’t save you from this one.” Ginny’s voice was low and dangerous.

“You might wanna run, mate,” said Ron, “before she sobers up.”

Teddy chanced a look behind him. Rose was watching James and Abe wrestle over the Firebolt. He figured he could leave for a moment without any of them ending up dead.

He slipped through the door onto the landing. They were two stories up from the ground floor at Grimmauld Place, and the adults’ voices carried even more out here. In the foyer below, he could see Ron holding onto Harry, who slumped over on his shoulder. Ginny also looked a bit unsteady on her feet.

“I’m only saying,” Ginny said, “you might want to think about your answers at the quiz, and how that might affect what does or doesn’t come later in the night…”

Hermione caught Teddy’s eye, and her mouth dropped open. Gently, she took Ginny’s elbow. “Gin.” 

Ginny followed her gaze, and her eyes widened. “Oh! Sorry Ted,” she yelped. 

Hermione brushed past her, and came up the stairs, apparently still trying to stifle a smile. “Hey Ted. Have you been enjoying Hogwarts: A History?” she asked him, taking him by the elbow to steer him back into the playroom with the other kids.

“Are Harry and Ginny getting a divorce?” he blurted.

Hermione stopped in her tracks, her face going blank before she broke into peals of laughter.

“What’s so funny?” Harry called loudly from below. 

Hermione ignored him, kneeling down so that she was at his level. “No, Ted, they are not getting a divorce.”

“But they’re arguing,” he said.

“They’re not really arguing,” said Hermione, “more like… fake arguing. Arguing for fun.”

He scrunched his nose. “Why? That doesn’t make sense.”

“Well, they played the quiz at a pub in Diagon Alley,” Hermione said, “and it seems Harry got a very, er, important question wrong.”

“What was the question?”

“It was, which English quidditch team had the most points in the 1999 season?”

“And what was the answer?”

“The Holyhead Harpies, obviously.”

It clicked. Teddy’s eyes widened. “That’s Ginny’s old team!”

Hermione nodded slowly. “You can see why Ginny was a bit upset – her own husband!”

“But they’re not really angry?”

“No, they’ve just had a big night.”

At that moment, the door to the playroom burst open, and James came peeling out on the Firebolt. Abe was chasing after him, feet pounding against the hardwood, on the verge of tears. 

“You’ve had it all night, James, it’s my turn.”

“Faby the Baby!” James chanted. 

Abe began to cry.

“Faby the Baby!”

“James Sirius Potter.” Ginny’s voice was hard and crisp, and Teddy wondered how he could have mistaken her earlier tone for true anger. “What have I told you about that bloody nickname?”