#Baking Techniques Course

[strangesuittheorist]

Diploma in Bakery & Patisserie | Learn Professional Baking

If you have a passion for creating delicious pastries, mouth-watering cakes, and perfectly baked bread, a Diploma in Bakery & Patisserie can help you turn that passion into a rewarding career. Whether you aspire to work in a prestigious bakery, start your own patisserie, or work in fine dining, this program provides the skills and knowledge required to excel in the world of professional baking and pastry arts.

👉 Discover More About Bakery & Patisserie Courses

Why Choose a Diploma in Bakery & Patisserie?

The demand for skilled bakers and pastry chefs continues to grow globally. From artisan bakeries to Michelin-starred restaurants, talented professionals are always sought after to create sweet and savory masterpieces. A Diploma in Bakery & Patisserie will equip you with:

Professional Baking Techniques: Learn everything from basic bread-making to advanced techniques in creating pastries, tarts, and cakes.

Patisserie Skills: Master the art of crafting delicate desserts, including macarons, éclairs, soufflés, and plated desserts.

Cake Decoration and Design: Gain expertise in the art of cake decoration, from fondant work to intricate piping techniques.

Food Safety and Hygiene: Understand the essential food safety regulations, storage, and handling practices to ensure quality and safety.

Business Acumen for Bakers: Get insights into managing a bakery or patisserie, including costing, marketing, and customer service.

🍰 Explore What You’ll Learn in a Bakery & Patisserie Diploma Program

Programs Offered

Many culinary schools and institutes offer specialized programs in bakery and patisserie, ranging from beginner to advanced levels. Some of the most popular options include:

Diploma in Bakery & Patisserie

Certificate in Professional Baking

Advanced Patisserie Diploma

Specialized Pastry Art Courses

Cake Decoration Masterclasses

Each program combines hands-on training with classroom learning to ensure that you receive both the technical skills and creative expertise required in the industry.

🎓 Find the Best Bakery & Patisserie Courses Near You

Career Opportunities After Graduation

Graduates with a Diploma in Bakery & Patisserie can pursue a variety of exciting and creative careers in the culinary world. Some popular career paths include:

Pastry Chef (at top restaurants or hotels)

Baker (specializing in artisan breads, cakes, or cookies)

Cake Decorator

Pâtissier (French pastry chef)

Bakery Owner or Entrepreneur (owning a bakery or patisserie)

Pastry Instructor or Trainer

Food Stylist for Pastries

Restaurant or Hotel Pastry Chef

With an ever-growing food culture and a demand for specialty baked goods, the opportunities for pastry professionals are endless.

💼 Explore Career Paths in Bakery & Patisserie

How to Apply for a Diploma in Bakery & Patisserie

Getting started in the world of professional baking is easier than you think. Here’s how to apply for a Diploma in Bakery & Patisserie:

Step 1: Research accredited institutions that offer the best pastry programs.

Step 2: Review the program details, including admission requirements and course duration.

Step 3: Submit your online application, along with any required documents like academic transcripts and a portfolio (if needed).

Step 4: Apply for scholarships or financial aid if available to help fund your education.

⏳ Start Your Journey in Bakery & Patisserie Today

Begin Your Delicious Career in Bakery & Patisserie

A Diploma in Bakery & Patisserie is the perfect way to kickstart your career in the culinary world, providing you with the expertise to create exquisite pastries, cakes, and breads. Whether you want to work in a world-class bakery, open your own patisserie, or join a top restaurant team, this program gives you the tools to succeed.

🚀 Enroll in a Bakery & Patisserie Program Today

[sedlex]

Using a cookie cutter to shape cookies (immediately) after they're cooked

[giantkillerjack]

I think Gastronauts on Dropout is the cooking show that has made me truly appreciate the skill of professional chefs more than any other cooking show.

Like I don't know if it's because the challenges are so crazy or the fact that the judges don't have any professional input whatsoever (they're all comedians), but the combination of how utterly stoked the judges are to be eating this food and how creative the chefs get to be really works to make you marvel at just how skilled a professional chef has to be.

Other cooking shows always have a level-voiced narrator listing out shit like,

"Rebecca is doing a praline-mint ganache with a Twiffly Street stir-up, combined with a gestelle Santa Maria sponge technique."

And it's fun to pretend like, 'Ah, yes. Of course! A classic of the genre! She'd be a fool not to!' as though I know anything about cooking or baking.

But on Gastronauts, it's a bunch of comedians who would really graciously appreciate some fancy food, watching chefs cook and going, like,

"What is that? What is he doing?? It's like- like a swishy thing! Like a fancy swishy thing!!"

"OH MY GOD YES, HE'S USING ONIONS."

"Ooo! Crunchies!??"

And then the chefs get to come out and formally present their food, which makes them look very smart. And these actors who generally can't afford Michelin star cuisine are just :DDDD!

And it's like, oh yeah. This is about my level, yes. This conveys how normal people who don't eat good food for a living would actually react. And it's super chill. It's good vibes, that show. 👌

[lokissweater]

“i would never lie to you.”

{toge inumaki x f!reader}

summary: inumaki’s always coming home to you from missions coughing up mass amounts of blood and completely overdoing it while fighting curses with his cursed speech technique. and no matter how many times you tell him to be careful, he just doesn’t, arguing with him, giving him the cold shoulder, and completely unaware of the reason behind why he fights so hard when he’s out there— that reason being of course… because of you.

warnings: angst, fluff, cursing, toge and reader have a lil argument but it’s more the aftermath, slight sexual mention but it’s literally once and nothing LOL, no smut!, toge thinks he’s not doing enough SNIFFF, angst with comfort, toge is DEVOTED to you, aged up characters, pet names, afab!reader.

word count: 2.3k

authors note: short n sweet one!! wanted to give you guys a break from my MLA format essays i always make y’all read LMFAOOO!! this one is SHO SOFT AHHHH :] i hope this keeps you guys fed in the meantime while i write the next one! i love you and i love you all ALWAYS MWAAHH <33

————————————————————————

toge inumaki hates it when you don’t talk to him.

as if he doesn’t do that enough already, toge absolutely despises when you both get into arguments or heated discussions and you turn a cold shoulder to him— needing space to unwind and prevent yourself from lashing out even more, to let the situation simmer down.

he understands it. believe him he does— you’re upset and angry and you need time to cool off… but toge is stubborn and needy and just doesn’t care, needing you and only you, him going absolutely crazy at the silence in your shared apartment that he was starting to hear random ringing in his ear drums.

so as he sat on the couch, eyes unblinking as they stared off into the darkness of the living room as the sun had already began to set, you upstairs locked away— he wanted nothing more than to open his mouth and let his cursed speech force you to come downstairs and talk to him.

but he didn’t, though the thought was definitely tempting, as toge vowed the day that he laid eyes on you to never ever use his cursed technique on you, even if it was harmless, an oath he wanted to carry with him until his very death bed and until he was six feet under.

his ears perked up then at the quiet sounds of the upstairs room door knob twisting and clicking open, soft padded footsteps making their way down the hall and closer to where he was, feet sticking against the cold tiles of the kitchen floor.

at the sight of you with your hair a little disheveled, your eyes so red and puffy, and an arm wrapped around yourself as you rummaged through the fridge looking for fuck knows what and not sparing a single glance at him— toge felt like a fifty pound gutting weight was resting on his chest and crushing his heart.

you had both argued about something you always seemed to circle back to almost every week. but this time, you were sick and tired and fed up, seeing as toge was never going to try and understand the situation at hand through your worried eyes.

every time toge was out for a mission, you would spend your days anxiously throwing yourself over the couch or trying to keep yourself busy with random activities like baking or scrapbooking (which you deemed later meaningless), all within the sole purpose of trying to get your mind off of your boyfriend and the recklessness he always seemed to pull while on missions, regardless of how much you begged and pleaded with him to be more careful and aware of his health.

toge inumaki had such a powerful and lethal cursed technique that frightened and astonished you all at the same time, a conflicting feeling to have when he had to leave you in the middle of the night or during the early hours of the morning to run around and fight curses… but always coming home to you warm and loving and safe.

but not right now.

not when toge had literally come home this morning with not even two steps in the door and he was already on his knees, coughing up strings and loads of crimson blood, it pooling on the floor as he had used his cursed speech to the highest degree today and had you a crying mess thinking he was dying.

and he always did that. always. today was just the worst of them all, him without a fault coming home with excruciating pain in his bruised and clawed up throat, the cough syrup medicine he usually downed like water having absolutely no effect anymore as you scrambled around every time trying to find a solution, toge brushing off your distressed and frightened rambling as if his health wasn’t a big deal, and as if how much it affected you wasn’t a big deal either.

upon you closing the fridge, toge slowly stood from the couch and carefully walked over to you, his throat still in pieces but his mind lurching and guilty over how upset you were at him.

he slowly raised a gentle hand and placed it on your shoulder, you shaking your head somberly in response— your back to him.

“i don’t wanna talk right now toge i’m sorry…” you mumbled, rubbing over your tired sore eyes.

he squeezed your shoulder, insisting.

but you only shook your head again.

toge huffed and placed both hands on your shoulders this time, physically turning you around to face him— his eyes soft and his eyebrows pinched together in pure concern for you.

you peeked up reluctantly, but the sight of his face and the events from earlier flashing through your mind only made your bottom lip wobble and the bottom of your palms shoot up to dig into your eyes, more stinging tears flooding in and slipping through the corners of your closed lids.

his heart fucking broke.

“why don’t you care toge?” you hiccuped. “i worry myself sick every time you leave for a mission and— and that’s fine because it’s what you do but you never take care of yourself!”

he gently pried your shaking hands away from your eyes and wiped your tears softly with his thumbs, caressing your cheeks after— wishing so badly, more than anything in this fucking world, to just be able to speak to you like a normal human being instead of resorting to words scrambled on a piece of paper or text messages on a screen.

he gently placed a little timid peck to your nose before releasing your face and fumbling around in his pockets for his phone, tapping it awake once he retrieved it and opening his notes app to write out a sentence.

he flipped and faced the screen towards you, the brightness making you squint a bit.

“i do care i swear. i just always forget when i’m in the middle of it and i’m sorry baby.”

“so you keep forgetting after what feels like the fifteenth time i’ve told you?” you wiped more tears from your cheeks. “how— how do you think it makes me feel when you come home and you’re coughing up blood all over your clothes and the furniture huh? all over me?”

he sighed softly through his nose and went to type again, but you continued.

“i get scared toge that one day you’ll push yourself way too far and then you just won’t come home. you scare me when you cough up so much blood like that!—”

toge tugged you in then with his unoccupied hand and wrapped his arms around you, pushing your head in and stuffing your face against his chest— the scent of his freshly washed t-shirt filling your nose as you cried softly.

fuck he felt like such a douche.

he typed for a moment behind your head, a pit in his stomach that only grew in size the longer he heard your little sniffles.

toge pulled back a bit, his arms still keeping you in place but just enough so that he could lower his phone and show you his message.

“please please don’t cry. i’m really sorry okay i really am and honest to god this won’t happen again.”

you nodded meekly and he flipped his phone back, quickly typing again and showing you once he finished.

“i feel like you think i don’t care but that’s not true at all. part of the reason why i try so hard when i work is because the more curses i fuck up the safer you’ll be when you’re out there without me.”

you laughed a bit at his wording, and he beamed at that, typing.

“i love you pretty girl. and im sorry i always get blood everywhere.”

“oh i don’t care about the mess baby, i care about youu,” you whined lightly and wrapped your arms around his torso, pulling him in tight.

“and i love you too, a lot… like an embarrassing amount that strips away my dignity.”

he chuckled boyishly and pressed a tender kiss to the top of your head, his body stuttering slightly as a single thought grazed his mind— the same thought that’s been in the crevices of his brain since he asked you to be his.

you felt his tension and pulled back.

“what?”

toge bit the inside of his cheek and looked down at you, his weight shifting as he contemplated telling you something he didn’t want to burden or upset you with, the pad of his thumb softly rubbing over your chubby cheek.

you quirked an eyebrow. “what? are you cheating on me?”

he burst out laughing and shook his head, kissing your forehead before dropping his hand from your cheek and pulling out his phone again.

he typed for a minute then showed you.

“me not being able to speak to you like a normal boyfriend should or respond to you whenever makes me freaking useless. so i push myself out there to keep you safe because that’s literally the least i can do for you, since i can’t even do the bare minimum.”

you gasped softly. “toge huh? this is—”

he shook his head once more and you stopped as he typed again.

“i always try to make you laugh with the things that i do or whenever i text you because i’m afraid that one day you’ll get tired of me not being able to talk to you and you’ll leave. which is also something i would never blame you for and understand.”

your heart squeezed in the worst excruciatingly way possible, completely baffled and mortified to the fact that toge was thinking about things like this and wholeheartedly believing it without you noticing or him saying anything to you about it.

he typed again.

“that’s why i cosplay as gojo when i leave for missions and come back a dumbass with blood in my mouth. that’s why i forget when you tell me to be careful because the need to be something for you is way fucking greater.”

“togeee!” you sobbed, bursting out crying like a little baby as you were moved and haunted by his words simultaneously, your arms engulfing him as he desperately shot his hands out and quickly wiped your tears again, shaking his head frantically as if pleading with you not to cry.

“how could you ever believe that?” you nudged him away and hiccuped, your eyes serious. “why haven’t you told me about this? everything you just said is literally propaganda.”

he chuckled, but you could tell he wasn’t convinced.

“toge, why do you think i’ve been with you for so long? do you think i’m just dicking around?”

“dicking around on my dick?”

you swatted his phone away. “no! not right now.”

you both shared a small giggle, twinkling eyes looking at each other.

“if i felt like you weren’t doing even the bare minimum, i would’ve been gone before you had the chance to put this ring on—”

his gaze drifted down to the black shiny heart promise ring on your ring finger that you held up for him, and he smiled softly.

“baby what you do for me everyday is above and beyond the bare minimum. i’m happy. i’m so happy to be with you that you not doing enough has never crossed my mind and it never will.”

you slid your arms around his neck and pulled him down a little, gently. “i’ve never cared about your ability to speak. i fell in love with you, who you are, and the fact that i did without you having to iterate words to me? olympic sport.”

toge rolled his eyes playfully at your comment, and you stood on your tippy toes and kissed the tip of his pretty nose then. “all men do when they talk is lie anyways…” you tilted your head. “but i know you’ll never lie to me.”

“never.” he mouthed silently.

he bundled you up in his arms and lifted you like you were nothing, him carefully leaning in and pressing his lips to yours as if you were a fragile little thing— kissing you so devotedly, warmly, his forehead resting against yours once he pulled apart after greedily getting his daily fix of you.

“i know your job as a jujutsu sorcerer pays the bills and comes with you putting yourself in difficult situations… and my job doesn’t even compare, but please don’t overdo it for my sake. i want you to come home, okay?”

you know it’s selfish… he should be saving lives no matter the cost.

but he was your man. was it so bad to just want to keep him for the rest of your days? to get the chance to grow old with him, and buy a little quiet house on the country side like you always joked about in the late hours of the night with him? drinking cool glasses of lemonade on the porch?

“please don’t always be the hero.” you whispered guiltily. “but if you must… just keep me in mind while you do it.”

you’re always on his mind. he hopes you know that.

toge breathed softly through his nose and smoothly set you back down, the pads of your feet making contact with the icy tile flooring as his hands dragged up from around your waist to the sides of your head, him pushing a hard kiss to your cheek as if to seal your request.

“do you promise?” you mumbled.

he pulled back and held his little pinky out for you, and you giggled, linking yours with his firmly.

“you can’t go back on it okay? you used your pinky it’s legally binding!” you warned, a silly smile on your face. “don’t lie to me and break it.”

toge grinned and leaned towards you as he bent down a bit— your gaze locking with his as he looked at you at eye level with his hands on his knees, him mouthing his next words, slowly.

words that made your cheeks buzz a cutesy pink, words that he took seriously, and words that tied you to him and the little house by the countryside he wanted so badly with you, as those words solidified how much he truly truly loved you— him hoping you always knew.

“i would never lie to you.” he mouthed.

taglist!! <33: @saebaey

[sunshineangel0]

-baking, because murder is wrong. ✩‧

pairing- lee felix x reader summary- After a frustrating day, you show up at Felix’s apartment in the middle of the night, demanding a baking session before you do something illegal. genre- fluff, comedy, best friends to lovers word count- 1.6k warnings- mentions of stress/frustration (but no heavy angst), excessive fluff and best friends-to-lovers tension (your heart may combust), mild swearing (a few curses here and there), lots of playful banter and teasing ! not proof read (sorry for spelling mistakes etc.)

2:03 AM – Felix’s Apartment

Felix was enveloped in a deep, restful slumber when his phone began to vibrate aggressively against the wooden surface of his nightstand. At first, he ignored it, burrowing deeper under his blanket. Then it buzzed again. And again. And again. With a groggy sigh, he finally reached for it, squinting at the screen.

Y/N🦋: I’m outside.

Y/N🦋: Open the door before I commit arson.

With a resigned sigh, Felix dragged himself out of bed. The clock on his nightstand blinked 2:17 AM in glaring red digits. Of course. This wasn’t the first time you'd turned up at his doorstep in the dead of night, exuding an unmistakable air of barely contained chaos.

Felix shuffled to the door, rubbing the remnants of sleep from his eyes. As he unlocked it, he was greeted by the sight of you, swathed in an oversized hoodie that dwarfed your frame, your hair tousled as if you’d run a marathon through a windstorm. In your arms, you clutched a bag of flour with the intensity of someone holding a weapon, ready for battle.

“…Do I even want to ask?” he muttered, his voice a mix of amusement and resignation.

You pushed past him, your footsteps echoing off the wooden floor as you marched into the apartment. "I need to bake before I do something illegal," you declared, your tone a storm cloud ready to burst.

Felix just shook his head, closing the door with a soft click. He was completely unfazed, accustomed to your nocturnal baking escapades as an antidote to whatever madness the world had thrown your way.

Felix leaned casually against the kitchen counter, his eyes following your every move as you aggressively swept ingredients from the cupboard and plunked them onto the table with a loud clatter. "So," he drawled, the corners of his mouth twitching with amusement, "who's got you all riled up this time?"

You slammed a hefty bag of sugar onto the counter, sending a small cloud of white dust into the air. "My boss is an idiot," you snapped, the frustration evident in the sharpness of your voice.

Felix nodded slowly, his expression one of feigned seriousness. "Mhm."

"And my coworkers are absolutely useless," you continued, grabbing a carton of eggs and placing it beside the flour with a thud.

"Right," Felix said, his tone encouraging you to vent more.

You threw your hands up in exasperation, your voice rising with each word. "And I swear, if one more person tells me to 'just calm down,' I'm going to start throwing hands."

Felix couldn't suppress his grin any longer and reached for a mixing bowl, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Alright. Let’s rage bake," he said, ready to join in the therapeutic chaos.

It started innocently enough, with the kitchen bathed in the warm glow of the afternoon sun. Felix stood at the counter, meticulously measuring flour with a slight furrow of concentration on his brow. Meanwhile, you were beside him, whisking the batter with a fierce determination, your movements a blur of energy.

Then—

“You know you’re supposed to gently fold in the butter, right?” Felix teased, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his lips as he glanced over at you.

You shot him a glare, eyebrows raised in defiance. “Do I look like I care about technique right now?” you retorted, the whisk still clutched tightly in your hand.

Felix snorted, a chuckle escaping as he shook his head, amusement dancing in his eyes. “You’re dangerous,” he remarked, feigning a look of mock terror.

Then, before he could react—

You scooped up a handful of flour and flicked it at him, watching as a cloud of white powder puffed into the air, settling on his shirt.

Felix froze, his eyes wide with surprise as he processed the sudden attack. You broke into a wide grin, feeling a rush of triumph.

“…Oh, you’re done for,” he murmured, a playful threat in his voice.

With that, he grabbed a fistful of flour and launched it at you, a burst of powdery chaos swirling around you both. You gasped, ducking and weaving just in time to avoid the white storm. “You little—” you began, laughter bubbling up uncontrollably.

Chaos erupted in the small kitchen. Flour flew through the air like snow in a blizzard, sugar spilled across the countertop, and Felix danced around your attacks with surprising agility, a grin never leaving his face. You were mid-throw, about to hurl another handful, when Felix lunged forward. With a swift motion, he wrapped his arms around your waist, lifting you momentarily off the ground and spinning you away from the counter.

The two of you crashed gently against the fridge, laughter ringing out as you both tried to catch your breath, the world around you dusted in white. Felix’s face was only inches from yours, his eyes locked onto yours, a soft smile playing on his lips.

And suddenly—

You weren’t thinking about your boss, whose endless demands had been weighing on you. You weren’t thinking about your awful day, filled with stress and frustration. You were just thinking about him, the warmth of his presence and the laughter you shared, and nothing else seemed to matter.

The way his eyes crinkled when he laughed reminded you of the sun peeking through clouds on a dreary day. His hands lingered on your waist, warm and reassuring, as if they belonged there. His smile softened, just slightly, as he looked at you, the corners of his lips curling gently upward. Your heart skipped a beat, a fluttering sensation that you couldn't quite control.

And before you could stop yourself, the words tumbled out of your mouth—"…You look good like this."

Felix blinked, surprise flickering in his eyes, before a playful smirk spread across his face. "Covered in flour?" he teased, gesturing to the white dusting on his shirt.

You laughed, a light, airy sound that filled the kitchen, and nudged his chest with the back of your hand. “No, I mean—” You hesitated, your gaze dropping to the floor as you tried to gather the courage that seemed to have slipped away.

Felix tilted his head, his eyes gentle and encouraging. Then, in a quieter voice, he urged, “Say it.”

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of the moment pressing down on you. This was dangerous territory, a line you had both been dancing around for months. But maybe, just maybe, you were tired of pretending. So you exhaled, your voice barely above a whisper, the words escaping your lips—"…I mean, I like you, dumbass."

Felix froze, his expression momentarily unreadable. Your stomach plummeted like a stone in a pond. Oh. Oh no. What if you had ruined everything between you?

But then, Felix's lips curved into a genuine grin, not teasing or smug, but soft and sincere, as if he had been waiting for this moment all along. Without a trace of hesitation, he said, “I like you too.”

Your breath caught in your throat, hope bubbling up inside you. “Yeah?” you asked, barely daring to believe it.

Felix chuckled, a deep, rich sound, and reached up to gently brush a smudge of flour from your cheek. “Yeah,” he confirmed, his eyes twinkling with warmth.

And then, slowly, sweetly, he leaned in and kissed you. It was a kiss that enveloped you like a warm embrace, tender and unhurried. It felt like all those late-night baking sessions had finally revealed their true purpose, like this was more than just a distraction. It felt like he was exactly where he wanted to be, and so were you.

You perched on the edge of the marble counter, your legs swinging idly back and forth, while Felix meticulously swept up the scattered flour that covered the kitchen like a fresh layer of snow. The remnants of your late-night baking escapade were everywhere—flour dusted the floor, bits of dough clung to the edges of the wooden table, and a sweet aroma lingered in the air.

“…So, technically, I still never got my revenge,” you mused, watching Felix’s careful movements as he wiped the counter with a damp cloth, his brow furrowed in concentration.

Felix paused, glancing up at you with an exasperated yet amused look. “I think you had enough fun throwing flour at me,” he retorted, brushing some lingering white powder from his dark hair.

You flashed a mischievous grin, the memory of your playful battle fresh in your mind. “Maybe.”

Then, as the moment softened, your voice did too, turning almost contemplative. “But I feel better.”

Felix’s stern expression melted away, replaced by a gentle warmth. He reached out, his fingers lightly tapping your knee, a silent acknowledgment of the bond you shared. “That’s why I let you wake me up at 2 AM,” he murmured, his voice a low, soothing rumble that made your heart skip a beat.

You rolled your eyes playfully, feeling the flutter of your pulse quicken, and hopped off the counter, landing softly on the cool tile floor. “Come on,” you said, tugging at the sleeve of his floured shirt with a gentle insistence. “Cookies are done.”

Felix grinned widely, his eyes sparkling with a mix of affection and amusement, and allowed you to lead him toward the oven. Together, you both sank onto the floor, the warmth from the freshly baked cookies seeping through the plates in your hands. Sharing the sweet treats and exchanging shy, stolen glances, you couldn’t help but think—

Maybe baking really was better than murder. Especially when it meant discovering a love that felt as warm and comforting as the cookies you shared.

©sunshineangel0 𖹭 if you liked this work, please consider reblogging, commenting or liking! xoxo franzi 💋

[kuronarnze]

hihii, do you take requests? if so, can i request where reader is a really good cook where we're talking gordon ramsey type of skill? (≧∇≦)

a/n: hihiii anonn !! of course I take requests! (≧∇≦)/ I LOVELOVELOVE doing requests, thank you for requesting!! Enjoyyy !

•┈┈┈••✦ ♡ ✦••┈┈┈•

Blue lock boys with a reader that is a Gordon Ramsay-Level Chef !

ft. Isagi Yoichi, Itoshi Sae, Itoshi Rin, Shidou Ryusei, Nagi Seishiro, Mikage Reo

•┈┈┈••✦ ♡ ✦••┈┈┈•

Isagi Yoichi

- At first, he underestimates your skills. Like, sure, you're a good cook—he’s had friends who can cook, right?

- Then he tastes your homemade bento. Silence. Actual silence.

- “...This is… like a five-star restaurant in a box??”

- He watches you cook with sparkles in his eyes like you're performing magic.

- Catch him secretly studying your techniques to try making you something decent in return.

- “Can you teach me how to make that sauce? No, wait—teach me everything.”

•┈┈┈••✦ ♡ ✦••┈┈┈•

Itoshi Sae

- He's hard to impress. That smug face? Unshakable.

- Until you serve him handmade pasta with black truffle oil, freshly baked focaccia, and perfectly seared wagyu.

- "…You're not normal." That’s the closest you get to a compliment.

- Now he casually texts: “Cooking tonight?” and shows up at your door uninvited.

- He’s smug but respectful. “You might actually be better than my private chefs in Spain.”

•┈┈┈••✦ ♡ ✦••┈┈┈•

Itoshi Rin

- His walls are high, but food breaks through.

- First meal you cook? He stares at you like you summoned it from heaven.

- He tries to hide how much he likes it.

- Keyword: tries.

- “Tch… I guess it’s okay.” (He finishes the entire plate and doesn’t make eye contact.)

- Secretly takes photos of your food and hides them in a locked folder labeled “Important.”

•┈┈┈••✦ ♡ ✦••┈┈┈•

Shidou Ryusei

- “Ohhh, you cook? Like real food? Not instant ramen?”

- Doesn't believe you're that good… until he takes one bite and literally moans out loud.

- “YOU’RE A GODDAMN HOT CHEF. HELLA GOOD FOOD. AND THE ONE WHO COOKED IT IS HELLA HOT TOO?? MARRY ME. FEED ME FOREVER.”

- Now follows you around like a gremlin and begs for food.

- Tries to “help” in the kitchen once. You ban him instantly after he lit a towel on fire.

•┈┈┈••✦ ♡ ✦••┈┈┈•

Nagi Seishiro

- Lazy boy is your biggest fan. He acts like he doesn't care—until he smells your cooking.

- Physically gets up on his own just to eat. That’s love.

- AND YES he actually had the will to eat a full meal.

- “Mmm… This is better than sleep.”

- He wants you to feed him like a spoiled cat. He pouts if you don’t give him bites from your hand.

- “You should open a restaurant. Or just stay here and cook for me forever. Whichever’s easier…”

•┈┈┈••✦ ♡ ✦••┈┈┈•

Mikage Reo

- He’s rich, so he’s had the finest cuisine… but your food? Instant obsession.

- “Wait, wait—did you make this from scratch? Even the bread?”

- Treats your cooking like high art. He wants to film it, photograph it, write poems about it.

- Tries to convince you to open a luxury restaurant with him as your investor.

- Spoils you in return by getting you rare ingredients and top-tier kitchen tools.

•┈┈┈••✦ ♡ ✦••┈┈┈•

TYSM FOR READINGG have a nice daayyy, plsplspls send me requests, i honestly don't have anyyy idea on what to writee.

[httpknjoon]

satellite | jjk

plot | Your friend, Jungkook, offers to help you while you review for your human anatomy exam.

w.c | 3K

genre | fluff, slight angst, fwb (but nothing 18+ happened)

pairing | jungkook x medstudent!reader

note | written from my own swamp of academic-related activities

main masterlist | playlist

JK

u up?

You

yep

i'm studying

exams tomorrow

JK

:(

can i come over

You

yes but don't be a distraction

JK

u know i can't help it 😪

You

🙄

i'm busy stop texting me

JK

will be there in five

You

door's open no need to knock

JK

see u 😉

Maybe you should have just pursued a course in creative writing... Or maybe culinary arts. Maybe something connected with baking. You love baking, right?

Maybe if you picked a college program based on your hobbies, you have better sleep. Maybe you are happier. At 11:51 PM, maybe you are already sleeping soundly on your bed, next to your emotional support stuffed toy, with your favorite weighted blanket on your exhausted being.

But you didn't. You can't.

So here you are, sitting in a swamp of written notes, books, and colorful post-its (that you haven't found any helpful use yet), having a crisis over your career choices.

"You want this, YN." you remind yourself, shaking your head.

Your digital clock on your study desk just ticked the time to 11:52 PM. It has been almost three hours since you began your planned all-nighter for tomorrow's exam.

"I want to cry." you sighed, your forehead softly hitting your desk. "But I don't have the time for that."

Groaning, you opened one of the textbooks you borrowed from the library. You tried to process every word you came across. But considering that you went straight from your eight-hour shift from your part-time job, you only managed to comprehend half of the sentences you read.

"I wish I was born as a nepo-baby."

Another random thought rolled off your tongue instead of understanding where the hell the spine of the scapula is. Admittedly, you find it hard to locate the muscles in the human body when you only have a 2D version of it. But you don't have those 3D models that can help you to learn and remember better, so you will settle for pointing your index fingers at flat images on the book pages.

"Trapezius... Acromion... Deltoid..."

Reciting the muscles in the familiar tune of "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star", you began pointing to certain areas of your body. It was one of the studying techniques you have been using since you were younger. So far, it's helping. You keep doing it for the other parts.

"Subscapularis..."

But the longer you sang, the words slowly rambled in your tongue and your eyelids got heavier. You were so close to drifting away until you heard the familiar click of your door. Your head snapped up instantly. You hear his voice greeting your roommate who's probably watching her favorite show in the living room.

"Pizza and ice cream. Want some?" you heard him offer.

He brought food?! Of course, he did. He's Jungkook. For the first time since you sat in front of your study desk, a smile formed on your lips. Shaking your head, you just read your notes again. It didn't take long for your bedroom door to open. The scent of a freshly baked pizza filled every corner of your room. And there, you see him coming in with a smile on his pierced lips.

"Oh, hello, gorgeous."

Jungkook was surprised to see you already looking at him when he entered your room. Usually, he would find your nose dipped between your textbooks when he visits during your study sessions.

You rolled your eyes at the nickname, "I know, I looked like a mess right now. Just give me my prized pizza and ice cream please."

He laughed, not because he agreed with you, but because you are always quick to turn down his micro-flirting. He sometimes thinks that it keeps him grounded.

"And you got the coffee ones! This is why you're my favorite hookup buddy." you quipped before kissing his cheek, elated by the ice cream he got you.

"I'm honored. Thank you." he replied, before getting a slice of pizza.

Both of you know that you don't have any other hookup buddy. You're not that adventurous. It's just something you joke about.

"How's the studying going?" he asked before sitting on your bed.

"Shit." you shake your head, tired. "But this ice cream makes me feel a little better."

Jungkook smiled at that. He listened as you went on telling him about something that happened in your shift earlier today. But he ended up studying you. Because contrary to what you said earlier, you are too pretty, he finds it distracting. You were tired, it's written on your face. But the way your eyes light up as you share your story makes your face glow. With your desk lamp being the only light in your room, it perfectly highlights the small smile on your lips after you take another spoonful of the cold dessert.

"Why did you come here anyway?"

Your sudden question snaps Jungkook out of his daze. He cleared his throat.

"I-I'm bored and you're up."

He was not bored. In fact, he missed a party he was invited to tonight because it has been four days since he last saw you. He was busy with his training and practice, while you were working two jobs and studying. You two were just texting each other these days and with how rare you reply during the daytime, he knew that tonight is probably the best time to see you.

You sigh, "I told you, I'm studying for tomorrow. I can't do anything with you right now."

"And I didn't say we have to do anything. I'm just happy to be here. I'm like little Bear right there." he replied, pointing to your stuffed toy who was sitting next to him.

"Okay, I'll go back to studying. Is that okay?" you asked, putting on the lid of your half-finished ice cream.

He winked, "Of course."

Jungkook is that person you probably know for too long. Like, someone you should have met only once or twice or occasionally. Not like this, in which you see each other almost every day.

When Liz, your roommate, introduced you two to each other during some Halloween party, in which you came as Dorothy from The Wizards of Oz and he was Peter Pan, you did not expect to start any kind of connection with him. You remembered thinking to yourself how exhausting it was to have him around with how he seemed so full of energy, not knowing then that he also enjoyed the same little things you did. You two became real friends after bumping into one another in a record store an hour away from your uni.

Because you feel that you two always stood on opposite ends of any scale. You were a reserved working student with introverted tendencies while on the opposite, Jungkook is a known varsity star, who's rumored to be a CEO's son (He is. He admitted it to you), on campus with a charm that works for everyone.  Just like how great he is at playing basketball, he is equally good at socializing and making new connections. That charm definitely worked for you a year ago because one thing led to another and now, he is in your bed, casually scrolling on his phone.

"Why do you have a camera with you?" you broke the silence after reading for god knows how long. Yet, you are unsure if you picked up anything from it.

He looked up, reaching for the camera bag he brought with him earlier, "It's a new one, my dad brought it to me as a gift."

"For what? Your birthday was like three months ago," you asked even though you already had an answer in your head.

"I helped him with some documents," he replied, knowing that you would say something after.

"Spoiled." you teased him.

"Haters gonna hate," he responded with a sassy roll of his eyes, you laughed. "Anyway, I'm kinda testing it out. So, if you don't mind..."

He placed the camera in front of him, aligning its viewfinder to his left eye. You put the back of your hand under your chin with a tight smile on your lips, posing. Click. A shutter sound and a bright flash followed. You see Jungkook look down at his camera to check the outcome. A small smile forms on his lips.

"You have too many pictures of me," you told him.

Every single time you two are together, he takes a picture of you. You don't really mind even though some shots are candid. Some of the pictures of you he took are the only ones you have on your Instagram. He's good at it, but sometimes, you worry you will get used to being his muse.

"I'm thinking of making an exhibition out of it." he said.

Sensing his sarcasm, you ride on with it, "Yeah, you can title it with something like, The Life Of An Overworked Twenty-Something Student. I looked exhausted in all those photos. An ugly, dry potato."

"I think you look pretty in all of them."

And it didn't help that he complimented you a lot after taking pictures of you. It just scares you that you feel a light feeling in your stomach when you see him smile after taking a shot of you or when he calls you gorgeous or pretty.

But instead of letting the giddy feeling show, you just smiled, "Of course you do, you're sleeping with me. You will always find me attractive."

It was almost an hour later when Jungkook paused the video he was watching on his phone to once again try his camera. A camera nerd, he was watching a clip about his new camera's settings. Of course, he was in his earphones so that he wouldn't get to distract you.

After modifying some parts of the settings, Jungkook placed his camera in front of his right eye, ready to capture another picture of you. But before he could click the button, he noticed your shoulders shaking.

His right eyebrow raised as he slowly put down his camera.

"YN?"

He heard you hiccup before humming, "Hmm?"

"YN, can you look at me?" he asked since you kept your back turned to him.

"Not now, I'm busy." you sobbed, failing to hide from Jungkook.

He frowned, getting up from your bed, "YN, baby..."

"No, I said-"

Before you could continue denying, Jungkook already pulled the swivel chair you were sitting on closer to him. You covered your face with your palms since you hated crying in front of anyone. Jungkook tries to remove it softly but you shake your head.

"Please, let me see your face. It's okay," he whispered while his thumbs drew circles at the back of your hands. Finally, you listened and let him hold down your hands.

"Shh..." he hushed you, wiping the tears on your cheeks. "What's going on? Are you okay? Is there any way that I can help you?"

"I-I cannot remember anything and I'm just so tired." you broke down, feeling the exhaustion from both studying and working finally creeping up in your body.

"Then, take a break. Let's nap." he offered, knowing how much you need it.

You cried even more, "I can't nap. My exams are tomorrow and I can't understand anything I've been reading so far."

He clicked his tongue in disagreement, "I'll wake you up in thirty minutes. How about that?"

While his offer seemed ideal for you, the pressure for what is coming tomorrow is heavily sitting on your shoulders. But you're really tired.

"Just nap?" you asked, making sure that it won't lead to anything else.

"Yeah— Okay, maybe cuddle." he shrugged.

"Okay." I kinda need that.

"Okay. C'mere, my snotty baby." He cooed.

You glared at him before slapping his chest. He laughed, catching your hand and pulling you to him on your bed. You fell on top instead of your mattress, feeling his toned body under you. His chin rests on the top of your head as he draws circles on your lower back.

"Let's do anything you want after your exams," he mumbled.

You exhaled, "Why celebrate? I am not even sure if I can pass it."

"You will. You're the smartest person I know."

This isn't the first time Jungkook saw you broke down over academic reasons. He knew how much you value your studies as someone who has always been an achiever since you began studying. It didn't help that your mom expects quite a lot from you, based on what you told him.

You looked up to meet his eyes, "Thank you."

He simply kissed your forehead, "Of course, babe."

You did find yourself feeling much better after your 30-minute rest. But, you also found something else when you woke five minutes ago next to Jungkook. It's something that can probably help you study.

"Take off your shirt," you whispered as you rested your head on his arm.

"Why?" he asked, suspicious.

"I think you can help me study," you said, sitting up on the bed.

Jungkook sat next to you, "I thought we were just cuddling."

"Jungkook." you called him. "Please, just do it."

"Okay, I will. You know I can't say no when you beg, babe." he teased.

You watched him reach for the back of his shirt and remove it over his head. With how cold your room is, Jungkook immediately crossed his arms over his chest, making his muscles bulge before you. You were quiet, squinting your eyes on his arms.

Feeling a little conscious and confused, Jungkook spoke, "It's a little chilly here. What now?"

"Wait, let me get my sticky notes."

"You know, I should be paid for this," Jungkook spoke, covered in neon-colored sticky notes from his neck to his back and arms. "I am like your model."

"You are my 3d model." you laughed while tracing his body with your finger to look where you could stick your next label. "I'm too broke to buy one so just be my friend and let me put some sticky notes on you."

"I'll just buy you one." he offered and he's serious. If it's something that can help you, he'll buy it for you.

"You sound like the spoiled kid you are." you joked.

"I like it when you keep me humble and grounded," he reacted sarcastically. Out of a hundred people he knows on the campus, you are the only one who always reminds him of his privileges. He found it annoying at first but now, he just finds it funny.

"I know, it shows especially when you get all submissive sometimes." you joked again, scrunching your nose at him.

"Why won't you just let me spend money on you?" he asked, recalling the other scenarios he tried buying or doing something for you. But you were quick to decline him, especially if it's connected with money.

You stopped and stared at him, "For the tenth time, Jeon, I will not be your sugar baby."

"Or you can just be my... baby," he whispered, but since you are the only awake people in this house at this time of the day, you still heard that.

Your eyebrows scrunched, looking at him. Visibly cringing at what he said, you pushed his face with a laugh. You hear him chuckle lowly.

"If you want someone to be your baby, you should be asking girls out, not signing up for a friends-with-benefits-type of relationship with me," you mumbled while writing a certain body part on your notepad.

It is part of your agreement that this thing you two have will end once one of you starts dating again. But the idea of him asking girls out after literally sleeping on your bed for the last twelve months still made your heart sink a little. You cannot imagine how your future will be without him, you still haven't thought that far.

"I know..." he whispered. But you're not up for any commitment. He wanted to say that. Instead, he replied, "But you give the best blowjob ever. How can I look for someone else?"

You laughed again. God, he loves making you laugh. It's like a melody playing in his head.

"Yeah, I know. It will be hard to find someone better than me. I'm the best."

Yes, you are. He agreed, almost saying it if you haven't spoke to soon.

"Now, please, can you stop moving? My notes are falling everywhere."

"Hi, I'm Mabel."

It's been days since that night. Now, a blonde, blue-eyed girl offered her hand to Jungkook while he prepared to leave the campus with his car after his basketball training. Jungkook, being polite, introduced himself even though he was not really interested. He continued making sure he got all his stuff in his backpack as the girl continued saying that they had two classes together. When he was done checking, she spoke,

"I think you're really cute and was wondering if we could go out sometime? Maybe we can grab some coffee together?"

Jungkook scratched the back of his head, feeling bad for what he was about to say to this seeming freshman before him. A tight smile forms on his lips. This isn't the first confession he got in his lifetime, but rejecting someone is always hard.

"Wow... uhm... I'm sure you're a really wonderful person, Mabel. But I'm not really interested in dating anyone right now. I'm sorry."

The familiar flustered face instantly showed up on Mabel's face, "Oh, okay. Uhm, thank you for your time. Nice to meet you though."

Jungkook was not even able to reply before she ran away. It didn't took him too long to dwell on that interaction when he got a message from you.

YN 🩺

I PASSED

COME OVER!!!!1!

Jungkook smiled after reading that, feeling your relief and excitement. He typed in a reply before hopping in his car.

JK

I KNEW U CAN DO IT

SO PROUD OF YOUUU

WILL BE THERE IN FIVE ;)

note | scheduled as my first post for 2025 :) thank you so much for reading!

ps. will probably delete this later on

taglist rules

PERMANENT TAGLIST (CLOSED)

@dunixxd @cixrosie @jksjx @embrace-themagic @buttvi @starbtslove @missseoulite @vanntaesworld @kenqki @imajinthis @stopeatread @seolaquotes @greyrain23 @chimchimmarie @petalsofink @jayhope88 @moonchild1 @laylasbunbunny @nikkiordonez12 @misshale21 @marblemoonstones

[capricornlevi]

i of course see the appeal of the stoic, tough-guy nanami but many days i find myself just gravitating towards the soft nanami, the gentle nanami, the nanami who kisses every one of your fingers before slipping your engagement ring on for you in the morning, the nanami is open with his love, the nanami who keeps a polaroid of you in his wallet, the nanami who learned a new technique for baking pastries because you tried a pastel de nata one day and loved it, the nanami who keeps his hand around your waist when you're walking through the nearby market, the nanami who gladly gives up his two-bed apartment to move into your cramped little studio since you can't bear to part with the memories just yet, the nanami who hugs you when you cry on the day it's finally time to move into the new house, the nanami who never had a pet growing up but pores over cat owner guidebooks before you pick up your new kitten together, the nanami who paints the spare bedrooms in your favourite colour, the nanami who never raises his voice at your children when they're struggling with homework or practicing the piano too late into the evening, the nanami who helps them instead of reprimanding, the nanami who tells you that you're only becoming more beautiful as the years pass, the nanami who puts your records on the turntable when he's making breakfast for the family every Sunday, the nanami who takes you to the same lovely bistro every anniversary to the point where the chefs recognise you both, the nanami who is eternally grateful to get to build this life with you.

[pseudowho]

Still got it

Artwork by Mmiyoart (2021)

The kids are teenagers, so you and Kento are just their boring parents...right?

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Imagine you and Nanami Kento as parents, but older now, in your forties, and the kids are teenagers at Jujutsu High (much to Kento's displeasure and concern).

The two of you always kept your work life separate to home; the kids knew what the two of you do of course, they all know Curses and Cursed techniques, your two daughters and a son being in possession of these talents themselves.

But you and Kento never come home in mission-wear. You're always patched up by Shoko, one of your oldest and dearest friends, before you walk through the door. Kento never winces as he cooks dinner in a fresh shirt, but behind your bedroom door at night, you gently push his shirt off his shoulders and bathe his wounds, gently kissing his bruises, his head resting back between your breasts as your arms curl round him from behind. You never discuss your kills in front of the kids, the evenings instead, full of talk of exams, arguments with best friends, chastising for using phones at dinner time.

You and Kento make sure you barely overlap at Jujutsu High, teaching students in the other years instead. Your daughters and your son know, in a vague way, that you're both respected First and Second Grade sorcerers in your own right, but to them you're just mum and dad.

Until, one day, that changes. Your three kids, all promising Second Grade sorcerers, and committed to the cause, get into trouble. The Curse they're sent to eliminate is so much stronger than they imagined. Your eldest daughter fights on bravely as your son carries their sister, wounded, to safety. All three are filled with terror as the Curse begins to overwhelm them, their short lives with you and Kento, their adoring parents, flashing in front of their eyes, wondering how the two of you would ever recover from their deaths.

Then, in a flash of black and red, Nanami Kento steps into the fight. A colossal wave of Cursed energy rolls over the children, stunned, breathless, eyes wide as their father, who does maths homework with them, who kisses them all goodnight at bedtime, who bakes at the weekends, instead now ruthlessly, effortlessly wipes the floor with the Curse that nearly killed his babies.

Kento is a demon in battle, tie ripped off, blunt blade whirling, his battle-hardened body just as imposing and lithe as it was in the years before the kids were born. The hands that held theirs when they were tiny, that threw them around ever-so-gently during play-fights, now wielded as weapons with murderous intent.

Even more alarmed are the children, when you appear beside Kento, and as the Curse staggers on its last legs, they hear you shout to Kento- "Throw me!" and, with not an ounce of hesitation, Kento tosses you like a rugby ball, for you to land the killing blow on the Curse.

You are smooth, meticulous, concentrated while making light work of a messy job. The children hear their father hum in approval of you as you take the Curse to task for its crimes against your babies.

Not even sparing the withering corpse a glance, you and Kento rush to your children. You hold your son and eldest daughter's faces, eyes full of tears as you check them all over for damage, their hearts swelling when you praise them for taking care of each other, for doing such a fantastic job holding out until you both arrived.

Kento drops to his knees beside his wounded youngest daughter, gripping her close to him, no less mighty and powerful after years of marriage and raising children. Nanami Kento manages the first and only reverse-cursed technique heal of his whole life, and repairs his daughter's wounds. He holds her to him and weeps quietly as she reassures him, wholly her mother's daughter. Kento grips his son gently around the back of the neck, pulling him down for a tight hug, his son almost breaking at Kento's familiar rumble praising him for prioritising his sister's safety, telling his son he's so proud of the man he's becoming.

Days later, and with the children now recovered, rumours of Nanami-sensei and Nanami-sensei's scathing criticism of and attack on the higher-ups is the talk of the Jujutsu High students. The children are silent throughout, still stunned by the overwhelming skill of their parents.

One of the other students jokingly raises the incident to your kids one day; "Oh man. I wouldn't like to have your parents mad at me. I'd never get over disappointing them."

"Are they...that much of a big deal?" your son asks his friend weakly. His friend raises his eyebrows, amazed, laughing.

"You mean the one and only legends, the Nanami-sensei's? Who the hell did you guys think raised you?"

You and Kento walk down the steps towards them, hands brushing together but not holding, keen to maintain professionalism at school. The children watch as your eyes meet his, love passing between you both, and wonder how they had thought of you as their boring mum and dad for all these years.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

[strangesuittheorist]

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🎓 Explore Accredited Culinary and Hospitality Schools Near You

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[pamicakery]

₊✩‧₊˚౨ LOA IS EXHAUSTING ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

Let's be honest.. We have been trying to force ourselves to affirm, visualise and it's been years that we are waiting for our manifestation. We can't even manifest in field we used to success, we try more and more techniques but fail again and again. We got depressed, exhausted, sad and we want to give up. We see success stories over success stories. We see tumblr Loa blogs coming and deactivating.

You want your Sp? You are chasing after them.

You want your job? You're distributing resumes everywhere waiting for an answer.

You want your ideal body? You are avoiding mirror.

You are affirming that you are that bad bitch that gets everything you want? You're crying and asking every Loa blog how to manifest this with many accounts or on anon.

The error is not the world. You are. Well.. Said like that is harsh but let me explain.

You are manifesting with ego.

You want to manifest with logic, reasons and known pattern. You are not using the subconscious mind but your ego. You want to convince your Rational ego that you have that body that you don't have, that your boyfriend is this guy who blocked you, or this job that you don't have. Let's put it like this :

🧸: I have my ideal body!

🧠: No you don't look at the mirror you are the same.

🧸: I swear I have it!

🧠: No you don't, you don't work out or diet.

🧸: but I have it.

🧠: Why are you avoiding mirrors if you have your ideal body?

🧸: Because... I don't have it yet but it will come soon!

🧠 : Who told you you don't have it?

🧸: I see it in the mirror.

🧠:So you don't have it, I was right.

🧸:Yeah you are right, I don't have my ideal body.

Why are you relying on a rational person to prove a miracle?

You are more stressing out and forcing yourself to visualise more than anything.

What you should do then?

Nothing.

🎀 When I mean nothing, it means relying on the miracle person to prove the miracle. Make it easy for yourself. You can speak to the subconscious mind, who doesn't have any limiting belief, agrees with you, prove you right, show you and tell you what you want and believe in you and will do anything for you.

🎀 Your subconscious mind is not your bitch, your whore or your slave. It's your best friend. You don't need to tell it everyday :

'' Make me breath ''

'' Make me walk ''

'' Make my heart beats ''

'' Digest my food ''

. It takes care of everything but you prefered to listen and talk to your ego instead.

Let's put it like that :

🧸: I have my ideal body.

🎀: Yes you have and you are so beautiful.

🧸:no... I still have the same body.

🎀: what? Of course not, in your 4d you have it!

🧸: Really ? But in the 3d -

🎀: I've finished the painting in the 4d, let me start sketching here so you can see it too. It Will be beautiful, trust me.

🧸: But what if it doesn't come.

🎀:You have to trust me, because I trust you when you tell me how's your life is going in the 3d. You're my eyes, remember?

🧸:Okay then, I trust you.

It's like someone ordered a commission for a cake. The person told how exactly they want their cake okay? With detailed. So now it's for the baker to catch up to do the exact replica of the cake. But if everytime the customer calls '' Is the cake is finished yet? '' or '' You won't make it in time '', the baker doesn't have time to bake so when the day will come, there will be nothing on the table.

But

If the customer trust the baker, and let them cook, the baker will be more concentrated on the cake and will give a stunning result.

You need to trust the subconscious mind and let it work. Your only job is to know what you want and how would you feel if you already have it. If you want to send a reminder to the subconscious mind, send it the feeling of already having it.

🩷know that your subconscious mind is your best friend, if you trust it and enjoying in advance because you know it will bring your the best results it will thanks you with your desires.

[purplephantomwolf]

Savoring the Finish Line

Chapter Two

Synopsis: You are a bakery owner. One day Max Verstappen comes into your bakery.

Note: This is not an accurate portrayal of how the real people in this act. I do not know them personally, so I will not be portraying them accurately.

Warnings: Panic attack

Previous Chapter: Chapter One

Masterlist

December 18, 2021

     You rush over to the windows, pulling the blinds down. You don’t think Max wants anyone to see him in this state. After making sure no one can see in, you squat down in front of Max. He’s got his head between his knees and breathing erratically. “Hey, can you look at me, please?” You softly ask. Max doesn’t respond. You gently touch his arm, trying to get his attention. His head jerks up, looking startled. “My name is Y/n. Can I take your hand?” You gently ask. He nods, still struggling with his breathing. “Okay, thank  you. I’m going to help you do what I do when I have panic attacks. Is that okay?” You ask. He nods again, slowly this time. “Okay, thank you,” you smile softly. You sit down next to Max, taking his hand in yours. “Okay, I need you to attempt to breathe in sync with me. I’m going to place your hand on my chest, so it’ll be easier. Is that okay?” You suggest, making sure he’s okay with everything you’re doing. Max attempts to speak while nodding. He doesn’t manage to get anything out yet. “Hey, hey. Don’t attempt to speak yet. Not until you get your breathing somewhat under control,” you shake your head. You lay his hand on your chest, taking deep breaths. You see him starting to take deep breaths. 

     Once you notice Max’s breathing has evened out some, you pull out the next thing you do when you have panic attacks. “Okay, next we’re going to do the 54321 grounding technique. I need you to tell me five things you can see,” you state. Max looks around the bakery. 

     “Uh, tables, you, register, chairs, and the kitchen door,” Max says, slowly looking at everything as he says it. You smile encouragingly. 

     “Good, good. Now can you name four things you can feel?” You encourage him, nodding.

     “Your heartbeat, my coat, the floor, your shirt,” Max lists off, starting to sound more confident. 

     “Okay, now, what are three things you can hear?” You ask. 

     “Your music, ticking of the clock, and-” Max tilts his head, seeming to be listening to things, “Someone talking outside.” 

     “Okay, two things you can smell,” you tell him. 

     “Easy, baked goods and flowers,” he slightly smiles, looking over at the flowers I have along the walls. 

     “Yeah, that’s a pretty easy one when you’re in here,” you laugh. “But last thing, one thing you can taste.”

     “Hmm, is that chocolate I can taste?” He looks around. 

     “Yeah, it is. I have quite a few items on the menu that have chocolate in them,” you laugh, looking at the display. Max grins, looking proud of himself. “Are you feeling better now?” You ask, placing his hand on his knee. 

     “I am, thank you so much,” Max blushes, looking embarrassed. 

     “Of course, I know how bad panic attacks can get when going through them alone. I didn’t want to make you do that. Now, when I have my panic attacks, I always feel weak afterwards. Food and a drink always helps me. Would you like something to eat and drink? I think I have some croissants and kouign amanns left, and I can make you some tea or water if you’d like?” You ask, standing up. You hold out your hand to Max, not really expecting him to yes. 

     “If it’s not a hassle to you or anything,” he whispers, taking your hand. You shake your head, helping him up. 

     “I wouldn’t have suggested otherwise. Come on, I was in the middle of cleaning the kitchen, so it;s a bit of a mess still,” you blush, realizing the state of your kitchen. You hear a whine come from the kitchen and your eyes widen. Max looks at you, confused. 

     “What was that?” Max asks, eyebrows knitted. 

     “That would be my two puppies. They hang with me in the kitchen while I clean, but if you’re uncomfortable with that, I can take them upstairs while you’re here,” you say. Max’s eyes light up at the mention of your puppies. He violently shakes his head no. 

     “No, no! It’s okay,” he rushes out. 

     “Perfect, they’re sweet, but quite protective of me. They aren’t really around guys, except my employee, Louis. They might take a second to warm up to you. Elise will warm up to you quicker than Lacey, though,” you explain. You walk back to the kitchen, motioning for him to follow you. You push open the door, and Elise and Lacey are immediately running around your feet. You laugh and squat down, petting them. “Max, meet Lacey and Elise. Lacey is the six month old Pitbull, Elise is the year old Golden Retriever,” I explain, pointing to each of them. 

     “Nice to meet you, Elise and Lacey,” he grins, sitting down next to me. Max holds out his hand for the dogs. They slowly walk over to him, sniffing his hand. Lacey takes longer at sniffing his hand than Elise. Elise is currently unsuccessfully trying to climb into Max’s lap. 

     “I’m so sorry! She thinks she’s still lap dog size,” you rush to pull Elise off of him. Max places an arm around her and lifts her into his lap. He smiles up at you, shaking his head, gently swatting your hands away. “Alright, alright. What would you like to eat and drink? I have croissants, pain au chocolat, kauign amann, and macarons, water, and tea,” you list off, looking at all your leftovers on the kitchen counter. 

     “Just a croissant and water, if it’s not too much of a hassle,” he mumbles, distracted by playing with Lacey. You grin at the sight, walking over the croissants. You quickly plate a couple, before getting a glass of cold water. 

     “You might want to put the food on the counter and stand to eat. The puppies will attempt to steal your food otherwise,” you laugh, setting the plate and water on a counter. Max lifts Elise off of him and stands up, walking over to the plate. You get back to cleaning the kitchen as he takes his first bite. 

     “This is delicious,” you hear him say. You peak over your shoulder to see his eyes wide, staring at the croissant. 

     “Thank you,” you mumble, continuing cleaning to avoid him seeing you blush. 

     Max clears his throat, and you turn to look at him. “So, I know you’re probably not my biggest fan, but I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone about the panic attack. I normally don’t have them, I just got super overwhelmed with some things,” he says, picking at the croissant. 

     Your eyebrows knit in confusion. “Why do you think I’m not your biggest fan?” You ask. You immediately start going through your interaction, trying to see when you said or did something that would tell him that. Max looks up at you, before pointing at your shirt. You look down, and your eyes widen. “Merde, of course I’m wearing this when I meet you,” you groan. “I promise you, I am not a Lewis or Mercedes fan; I’ve been a Red Bull fan since they entered F1. My dad got me this when Lewis was absolutely dominating, trying to convince me to switch teams. I only wear it when I clean, hence all the stains you see on it,” you explain, blushing. 

     Max smiles, “Okay. Good to know I’m not eating in the enemy's kitchen then.” You laugh, shaking my head. 

     “I won’t tell anyone about the panic attack,” you say, grabbing out some supplies to make the dough for tomorrow's croissants. “Do you want to talk about what caused the panic attack? I know talking helps me a lot, but I get that I’m a stranger, so I understand if you don’t want to talk,” you say, looking at him. Max seems to contemplate this for a minute. 

     “No, I don’t think I’m ready to talk about it. Thank you, though,” he shakes it. You plop the dough into a bowl, putting it into the fridge for tomorrow. You wash my hands, before turning to him. 

     “Alright, sounds good. Do you need more water?” You ask, noticing his empty water cup. 

     “No thank you, I think I should get going. Let you get back to your cleaning,” Max says, bending down to pet Lacey. Elise whines, running up to you, wanting attention. You laugh and squat down, petting her. 

     “Okay, well, you’re always welcome back. We’re open from 6 am to 8 pm. Always got to promote the business,”you grin. Max lets out a loud laugh, straightening up. His shoulders shake with laughter, and you grin proudly. 

     “Of course, of course. The croissants were delicious. I will be back to try other things. Do you make them all yourself?” He asks, leaning against the counter. 

     “Yeah, I make all the food myself. I have an older couple that I employ that work the front,” you smile. 

     “That’s amazing. I’ll definitely come back to try other things,” he nods, “My trainer is going to hate me.” You let out a loud laugh, shaking your head. 

     “Better not be eating too much then,” you grin, grabbing his plate and cup. You clean and dry them, putting them up. You can feel Max’s eyes on you as you do this. You turn to him when you’re done. 

     “Thank you for the help with calming me down,” he mumbles, turning red and rubbing the back of his neck. 

     “Of course, it is honestly not a problem. I had someone teach me the 54321 grounding technique and it’s been a life saver,” I shrug. 

     “I’ll have to remember it for if I’m in this situation again,” Max nods. You nod, heading to the front of the store. You grab your cleaning supplies, getting ready for the tough job of cleaning the front. Max follows after you, Lacey and Elise hot on our heels. You start to wipe down the tables as Max watches. After a couple moments of silence, he sighs. “I should get going now, thank you so much for everything tonight,” he says. He starts to walk towards the front door. 

     “Of course, any time. Have a good night, Max,” you smile, following him. 

     “You as well, Y/n,” Max smiles back, before leaving. You make sure to lock the door after him. You look down at Lacey and Elise running around your feet. 

     “What an interesting night,” you mumble. You quickly finish your cleaning. You feel your fighting to stay open, meaning it’s bedtime. You drag yourself up the stairs.

     Once you’re upstairs, you grab a quick bite to eat before starting your nighttime routine. Once done with that, you slide under the covers. Elise and Lacey jump up onto the bed with you, snuggling in for the night. You fall asleep cuddling with them, not believing how your night went.

Next Chapter: Chapter Three

[atlasthegreatest]

A Different Kind of Warm / Kazuha Nakamura x Gender Neutral! Reader

Kazuha has never thought much about love. Having spent most of her life focused on ballet, emotions like love always felt distant—something she understood in theory but never personally experienced. However, lately, she’s begun to notice something strange whenever she’s around her group member— Y/n Kwon.

Warnings: None. 6th member of Le Sserafim! Reader.

Word count: 2436

Kazuha had never thought much about love.

She had spent most of her life in ballet studios, surrounded by mirrors and the sound of pointe shoes gliding across the floor. Love had always been something distant, something she had seen in movies or heard about from her friends but never experienced herself.

And yet, lately, whenever she was around Y/n, something felt… different.

It started with small things—like how she always seemed to look for them first whenever the group gathered, or how she’d catch herself smiling for no reason whenever they spoke. She liked being around all the members, of course, but with Y/n, there was something else.

Something she didn’t quite understand.

—-———————-

One afternoon, the six of them had a rare day off and decided to go to a small café near the dorm. It was a cozy place, tucked away in a quiet alley, with warm lights and the scent of freshly baked pastries filling the air.

Kazuha sat across from Y/n, stirring her iced tea absentmindedly as she listened to the others talk. Or at least, she tried to listen.

Y/n was next to Chaewon, laughing softly at something she said, and for some reason, Kazuha’s chest felt a little tight.

She frowned. That was strange.

“Zuha?” Y/n’s voice pulled her out of her thoughts. She blinked, realizing they were looking at her. “You okay?”

“I—” She hesitated, unsure of what to say. “Yeah. Just… thinking.”

Y/n tilted their head, studying her with that gentle expression that always made her stomach feel light. “Don’t overthink too much,” they teased lightly, nudging her foot under the table. “You do that a lot.”

Kazuha felt her face grow warm.

Did she? She hadn’t realized.

Before she could reply, the conversation shifted, and Y/n turned their attention back to Chaewon. Kazuha let out a small breath, pressing her straw against the ice in her drink.

She needed to figure out what this feeling was.

That night, back at the dorm, Kazuha found herself lying awake, staring at the ceiling.

Her bed was warm, but she felt restless. Every time she closed her eyes, memories of the day replayed in her mind—the way Y/n had laughed, the way their eyes softened when they looked at her, the way their foot had brushed against hers under the table.

She turned over, hugging her pillow.

It wasn’t that she hadn’t thought about romance before. She had just never felt it.

But now…

A realization crept in slowly, like the first bloom of spring.

Maybe, just maybe—this was what love felt like.

And that thought was both terrifying and exciting at the same time.

————————-

Kazuha had always been good at controlling her emotions. Years of ballet training had taught her discipline, composure, and grace—how to keep a steady expression even when her muscles ached, how to push through exhaustion without showing weakness.

But this? This was something else entirely.

She wasn’t used to the way her heart stuttered whenever Y/n looked at her, or how a simple touch—a brush of their hand against hers, a playful nudge—could send warmth rushing up her spine. It was overwhelming, unfamiliar, and completely out of her control.

And yet, she didn’t hate it.

The next morning, the six members of Le Sserafim had dance practice, and Kazuha did her best to focus. She really did.

But every time she caught Y/n’s reflection in the mirror, her rhythm faltered just a little. It was ridiculous. She had spent years perfecting her technique, yet now, one glance from them was enough to throw her off balance.

“Zuha, you okay?” Yunjin asked, raising an eyebrow as she stretched next to her. “You seem distracted.”

Kazuha quickly shook her head. “I’m fine.”

Y/n, who had been taking a sip of water nearby, turned to her with a small smile. “If you need a break, don’t push yourself too hard.”

There it was again—that warmth, that strange tightness in her chest.

Kazuha forced herself to nod, but the truth was, she wasn’t tired at all. She just needed to stop feeling so much.

———————-

That evening, after a long practice, Kazuha found herself sitting next to Y/n on the dorm’s couch. The other members were in their rooms, leaving just the two of them in the dimly lit living room, the only sound being the faint hum of the air conditioner.

Y/n was scrolling through their phone, absentmindedly leaning back against the cushions, while Kazuha sat stiffly beside them, her hands clasped together in her lap.

She wanted to say something, but she wasn’t sure what.

Instead, Y/n spoke first. “You seemed a little off today.”

Kazuha hesitated. “Did I?”

Y/n turned to her, resting their chin on their palm as they studied her. “Yeah. You’ve been spacing out a lot lately.” A teasing smile tugged at their lips. “Are you falling in love or something?”

Her heart stopped.

For a moment, she could only stare at them, her mind blank.

Y/n had said it so casually, without knowing how those words sent her world spinning. Was she falling in love?

The thought had crossed her mind before, but hearing it spoken out loud—especially by Y/n—made it feel more real, more undeniable.

Kazuha swallowed, looking away. “I don’t know.”

Y/n blinked. “Wait… are you serious?”

The ballerina could feel their eyes on her, searching for an answer, but she kept staring at her hands. “I’ve never—” She exhaled softly. “I don’t know what love feels like.”

There was a pause, then a chuckle. “You’re really cute, you know that?”

Kazuha felt her face heat up instantly.

Before she could respond, Y/n reached out, gently poking her cheek. “Don’t stress too much about it,” they said lightly. “You’ll figure it out when the time is right.”

And just like that, they went back to scrolling on their phone, as if they hadn’t just left Kazuha questioning everything she thought she knew.

The ballerina sat there in silence, feeling her heart race in a way it never had before.

Maybe she was falling in love.

And maybe—just maybe—it was with Y/n.

————————

Kazuha wasn’t sure when things started to change.

It wasn’t anything obvious—there were no grand confessions, no heart-fluttering movie-like moments. But something about the way Y/n treated her had become… different.

And she wasn’t sure if it was real or if she was just imagining it.

It started with the small things.

Like how Y/n always made sure to sit next to her whenever they could, whether it was during car rides, team meetings, or even casual late-night gatherings in the dorm.

Or how they started bringing her favorite snacks, passing them to her without a word—just a knowing glance like they had memorized every little thing she liked.

Or how, during practice, Y/n would always be the one to adjust her mic, their fingers grazing the back of her neck in a way that sent shivers down her spine.

It was subtle, but Kazuha noticed.

And the worst part? She didn’t know what it meant.

————————

One evening, after a long day of schedules, Y/n and Kazuha were the last ones in the practice room.

The other members had already left, but Y/n had stayed behind to practice a little longer, and Kazuha—despite her exhaustion—hadn’t wanted to leave them alone.

Now, they sat side by side on the floor, backs resting against the mirror as they both caught their breath. The only light in the room came from the soft glow of the ceiling panels, casting long shadows against the walls.

Y/n glanced at her, a small smile playing at their lips. “Tired?”

Kazuha nodded, exhaling softly. “A little.”

Without a word, Y/n reached out and gently tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear.

Kazuha froze.

It was such a simple gesture, but the way their fingers lingered for just a second longer than necessary—like they were committing the feeling to memory—made her heart stutter in her chest.

The ballerina turned to Y/n, but they were already looking away, stretching their arms as if nothing had happened.

Kazuha swallowed. Was that on purpose?

She wanted to ask, but the words wouldn’t come out.

Later that night, as she lay in bed staring at the ceiling, she replayed the moment over and over again in her mind.

She wasn’t imagining it, was she?

The way Y/n looked at her—the way they touched her, even in the smallest ways—it wasn’t the same as before.

Y/n was treating her differently.

And that terrified her.

Because if they really were showing feelings for her…

Then she had no choice but to admit that she had feelings for them, too.

———————-

Kazuha wasn’t sure how long she could keep pretending that nothing was happening.

The way Y/n had been acting lately—subtle but unmistakable—was starting to unravel her carefully maintained composure. And the worst part? No one else seemed to notice.

Only her.

Or maybe… only she was affected by it.

It happened again the next day.

The group had gathered in the company lounge for a short break between schedules, sprawled across the couches as they waited for their next meeting. The air was filled with quiet chatter, the sound of snack wrappers crinkling and fingers scrolling through phones.

Kazuha had just sat down with a drink when Y/n wordlessly handed her a small packet of dried mangoes—her favorite.

She blinked, looking up at them in surprise. “Oh… thank you.”

Y/n shrugged. “I saw them at the store earlier and figured you’d like them.”

That was it. No teasing, no playful remarks—just a simple, thoughtful gesture.

But the way their fingers brushed against hers as she took the packet made her breath hitch.

The ballerina forced herself to look away, hoping no one else had noticed the way her grip on the plastic tightened just slightly.

No one did.

Except them.

Kazuha could feel Y/n’s gaze lingering on her for a moment before they turned back to their phone, acting as if nothing had happened.

But something had happened.

And it was happening more and more.

————————

Later that evening, Kazuha found herself standing in the dorm’s kitchen, mindlessly stirring a cup of tea as she tried to calm the racing thoughts in her head.

She needed to stop overthinking this.

Maybe they were just being nice. Maybe she was reading too much into things.

Or maybe… maybe they knew what they were doing.

“Zuha.”

The ballerina nearly dropped her spoon.

Y/n stood in the doorway, arms crossed, an amused glint in their eyes. “You okay? You’ve been spacing out a lot lately.”

She swallowed. “I—yeah. Just tired.”

Y/n hummed, stepping closer until they were leaning against the counter beside her. “You sure?”

Y/n’s voice was softer now, quieter.

Kazuha gripped her cup a little tighter.

This close, she could pick up on the little details she had been trying so hard to ignore—the way Y/n’s voice always seemed a little warmer when they spoke to her, the way their shoulder brushed against hers even though there was enough space between them, the way their eyes held something she couldn’t quite name.

She wasn’t imagining this.

But she didn’t know how to respond.

So she did what she always did when she was overwhelmed—she stayed silent.

Y/n, let the moment between them for a few seconds before exhaling softly, a small, knowing smile tugging at their lips.

“Alright,” they murmured, pushing off the counter. “Let me know when you figure it out.”

And with that, Y/n walked away, leaving Kazuha gripping her cup like it was the only thing keeping her grounded.

Her heart was pounding.

She knew what they meant.

Y/n was waiting for her.

And for the first time in her life… she wanted to stop running from what she was feeling.

Bonus Chapter:

Kazuha had always prided herself on her ability to stay calm.

On stage, in interviews, even during the most exhausting practices—she had learned to keep her emotions in check. It was part of who she was.

But with Y/n, she was starting to realize that some things couldn’t be controlled.

It was a quiet evening in the dorm, and for once, there were no schedules, no deadlines—just a rare moment of peace. The other members were in their rooms, leaving only Y/n and Kazuha in the living room.

Y/n sat on the floor in front of the couch, scrolling through their phone, while Kazuha stretched beside them, her legs folded neatly beneath her.

It was comfortable. Easy.

But then, without looking up from their phone, Y/n reached over and absentmindedly grabbed her hand.

Kazuha froze.

Y/n didn’t lace their fingers with hers or make any obvious move—they just held it, their thumb lightly tracing small, slow circles against her skin. Like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Like they had done it a hundred times before.

Like they weren’t even thinking about it.

But she was.

The ballerina was thinking about it so much that her heartbeat felt deafening in her ears.

Y/n didn’t say anything. They didn’t tease her or acknowledge it in any way. Y/n just kept scrolling through their phone, fingers still loosely wrapped around hers, as if holding her hand was second nature to them.

And that was the moment it clicked.

This wasn’t new for them.

Y/n had been showing her their feelings in all the little things—the quiet gestures, the subtle touches, the way they always seemed to be there, waiting for her to catch up.

And Kazuha… Kazuha had been too slow to understand.

The ballerina swallowed, staring at their intertwined hands. She should have pulled away. She should have said something.

But instead, for the first time, she let herself feel it.

The warmth. The quiet certainty. The realization that maybe, just maybe, love wasn’t something that came with a grand declaration—it was something that had been growing between them all along.

She squeezed their hand.

Y/n didn’t react right away, but the ballerina felt the way their fingers tensed slightly before they finally looked up at her.

And this time, Kazuha didn’t look away.

She held their gaze, her heart racing but her grip steady, a silent answer in the way she didn’t let go.

Y/n’s lips parted slightly as if they wanted to say something, but then they just smiled—soft, knowing, patient.

Like they had been waiting for this moment all along.

And Kazuha, for the first time in her life, wasn’t afraid of what came next.

[frm9pm]

Ghost Tom idea

Half baked idea for fun don’t take me too seriously please :’P

This idea comes from the game mechanic of HPMA where when you use AvadaKedavra 4 times in a row, Voldemort appears. There is an alternate skin for this attack that puts Tom Riddle instead of Voldie. I couldn’t find HD versions of this skin so I thought it was child Tom Riddle following the character around, which I thought was very funny.

Anyways my thinking is Harry has been an auror for about 9 years or so and in that time he became so jaded by the ministry and how corrupted the system is. Even though he swore never to use the killing curse after the war, after a hostage situation gone bad, he allows himself to use AK when the situation is dire enough. No one says anything because he’s Harry Potter and doing his job. It doesn’t become an issue until his 4th AK when a child Tom Riddle starts following him around. Tom isn’t shy and constantly talks, which drives Harry fucking insane. Nobody else can see Tom but Harry. After confiding in Hermione and Ron, they’re convinced it’s a curse of some kind and make him go to a dark arts specialist.

The Dark Arts specialist is of course, Draco Malfoy. After days of testing Draco figures it’s not a curse but all psychological. Cue questionable therapy ethics, Draco not a therapist but using the techniques his muggle therapist does for him to try and help Harry out. (Or maybe there is a bit of dark magic in there idk)

The point of the story is to highlight the parallels between Harry and Tom(and Draco?) Obviously nothing Tom did is excused, but Harry understands things arent B/W. It allows for Harry to understand Draco better too

Draco is allowed the dark arts specialist role because the aurors thought he would immediately slip up and they could send him back to Azkaban. He has a trace imposed on him to make sure he doesn’t do anything shady. This is embarassing for Draco, so he has embraced the muggle method of doing things manually, so that the aurors have no ammunition to make fun of him.

Obviously I’m not a writer and don’t know where to go with this x’) I was just very tickled with the initial idea of a baby Tom Riddle ghost and tried to expand.

[reidsworld]

Winter’s Constant

Summary: You have always dreaded winter, every year it’s a challenge just to make it through the day. Except this year, things are a bit different with Logan by your side. Based on this request.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader

Category: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff

Content Warnings: Seasonal Depression

Word Count: 0.6k

Mars speaks… Thank you so much for requesting this, sorry that it is kind of short! I don’t know a lot about depression and seasonal depression so I tried my best to portray it.

Masterlist

Winter was on its way, and you could feel it in your bones. Every year, like clockwork, the first chill in the air sent a shiver down your spine, not just from the cold, but from the dread that settled in your chest. You knew what was coming—what always came with the snow and shorter days. The energy that had you buzzing with life in the summer, the endless side projects, the laughter that could fill a room, all of it would start to fade.

Every year, you told yourself it would be different. You’d try new techniques, new routines, anything to keep the shadows at bay. But each year, the same thing happened. Slowly, like the setting sun, you’d start sleeping more, your projects left half-finished, your once-lively spirit buried under layers of fatigue.

But this year…this year was different. You had Logan.

He noticed the shift before you even said anything. It started with how your hands slowed when working on your latest project, how your once constant, lively chatter—often rivaling Wade’s in volume and enthusiasm—began to taper off. The way your eyes lingered a little longer on the darkening sky. By the time you found yourself sleeping more than you were awake, Logan was already there, silently offering his presence, his warmth.

One day, as you lay curled up in bed, Logan slipped in beside you, his weight comforting as the bed dipped. He didn’t say anything at first, just laid there, letting you know he was there, that he wasn’t going anywhere.

“Thought it was gonna be different this year,” you mumbled into the pillow, your voice thick with exhaustion. “I told myself…just this once, it wouldn’t be like this.”

Logan’s rough hand found yours under the covers, his thumb brushing gently over your knuckles. “Ain’t your fault, darlin’,” he said softly. “You don’t have to fight it alone this time.”

His words were a balm to the ache inside. You knew Logan wasn’t the type to sugarcoat things or make promises he couldn’t keep, but when he said those words, you believed him. You believed that, even if the winter was dark and the shadows crept in, Logan would be there to light a fire, to keep you warm.

As the days grew colder, Logan stuck to his word. On the mornings when getting out of bed felt impossible, he’d coax you up with a cup of coffee, holding it just out of reach until you groaned and sat up. On the days when all you could do was lay on the couch, he’d sit with you, your head on his lap, as he absentmindedly stroked your hair, his presence alone enough to calm your racing thoughts.

And when you’d have those rare bursts of energy, when you’d suddenly decide you needed to finish that project or bake something, Logan was there, helping you without hesitation, never making you feel like you were too much or too little.

There were still bad days, of course—days when the weight of it all felt crushing, when you questioned whether you’d ever feel like yourself again. But with Logan there, those days didn’t seem as hopeless. He was your constant, your anchor, and though he never tried to fix you, his steady presence reminded you that you didn’t need fixing.

You knew winter would always be hard. But this year, for the first time in as long as you could remember, you felt like you had a chance. You had Logan, and that made all the difference.

Mars speaks… (again) Depression is a serious condition, and it’s okay to ask for help. You don’t have to face it alone. If you are struggling or just need someone to talk to, my dms are always open🫶

[dannydoesthisthing27]

BAAABE headcanons ✨️

When Baaabe was growing up they didn't understand people

Baaaabe has a neutral resting face, but because of the fact that they're on the taller side, people were often intimidated. This led to them often leaning into the stereotype of tall, scary, and quiet, even though they are one of the kindest souls you could ever meet

Baaaaabe didn't go out growing up despite being invited often because they didn't think people actually wanted to hang out (they've been stood up on dates several times and ended up developing worse trust issues because of it)

Baaaaaabe has a collection of pins that they've been making since early highschool (they have messenger bags and jackets covered in pins and patches)

Baaaabe that hates going on elevators, but had a sprained ankle so they needed to for once, surprised by the man who came in after them talking about burned cabinets?

Baaaaaabe who nearly started crying when the elevator stopped because of course it happened on a day they're already having a bad time with, on an ankle that's throbbing in pain, going on the elevator for the first time in months because they just wanted to take a minute for themselves

Baabe letting the guy that was stuck in there with them pull them to the ground, their normal cool demeanor slipping away under his rough hands holding theirs. A small voice whispering in the back of their mind that they should be stronger, muffled by him guiding them through breathing exercises

Baaaaaabe agreeing to go on a date with him out of genuine curiosity, something that they hadn't done for their own sake in a long time

Baaaabe spending the weekend over at Ashers' place because they wanted to play through the Halo games with him. Them eager to get back into it when his voice pipes up unexpectedly with an "I love you"

Their face practically glowing even though their words were catching in their throat

Babe that was understandably nervous about meeting the pack. Spending almost two hours before hand trying to figure out what they should wear, how formal, how casual was exceptable, what kind of shoes should they wear. Spiraling down the train of thoughts that leads them to picking at their nails and pacing the closet

Asher that saw they were struggling and decided to pick their outfit (one that makes them both comfortable and confident) along with one of his jackets (possessive ass wolves)

Baaaaaaaabe, who got sick the same week they had a big project for work start and felt horrible about it for multiple reasons. Them pulled away from their work by the same rough hands that from the first day have been able to disarm them entirely. Baabe trying to protest his affection because he's even worse than they are when he's sick (whining groaning baaaaabe I'm dying put me out of my misserrryyyyy)

Baaabe who never really made pillowforts growing up, not understanding the appeal at first, more concerned by the fact that all of their (very nice) pillows are now scattered across the living room floor. Them crawling inside after their mates a few remarks coming to mind as they appreciate the view

Them feeling comfortable enough to ask, regardless of his answer, if he would mind shifting. The feeling of his wolf form wrapping around them a familiar comfort and the thump of his tail on the ground next to them a steady rhythm lulling them to sleep as their favorite episode of star trek drones in the background

Baaaabe baking Ashers favorite cookies and ordering in pizza because he'd been working late (cause he's a singer) learning the paper side of the security company. Baabe looking up a few different massage techniques specifically for relaxing the shoulders and neck since that's where their mate carries his tension. Them talking to him while they stradle his back, rubbing his shoulders, something they wouldn't usually do. The words just come easy with him, like most things when it comes to him

(Skipping past the inversion because, like with Angel, there's just too much going on)

Baaaaabe loving an excuse to dress up, eager to use the new lipstick they got to their advantage (Asher with lipstick stains everywhere just picture it 🫠)

Baaabe who while disappointed they can't go out, is still eager for a nice evening with their man. A small warm smile spreading across their face as they see everything he threw together. His crooked smile and smile lines drawing them in like a moth into flames. A fire they'd happily burn in if it meant being closer to him

Baaaaaabe trying to finish up a load of laundry when they hear Asher asking about butter, already mildly concerning since he doesn't cook, so they make their way to the kitchen without much protest for the sake of their cabinets

Them knowing full well that once he got them in there they wouldn't be leaving, regardless of what they said. Baabe listening to Ash ramble about his family with a fond smile. Hanging on every word since they really haven't spent much time around the other Talbots and want to know about the people who raised their mate

(This is as far as audio based headcanons go)

Baaabe collects jars and candles (they make their own candles sometimes)

Baaaaabe is weirdly good at card and board games

Baabe was a psychology student for several years before shifting to business because they decided psychology was better as a hobby, not a profession

Baaaaaabe and Sam both collect music (I've talked about Babe and Sam before their friendship is special to me)

Baaaaabe loves when Ash rambles because his eyes light up in a unique way when he's really invested

Baabe takes Sweetheart out to lunch when their schedules line up