#the best part of Christmas is the day after when i have money to buy my pets new toys and treats

[two-calicos-in-a-trenchcoat]

Got chewby a new tug and some Christmas dog biscuits that look like donuts (we have mini donuts a lot but they usually have chocolate on them so we can't share with her so I thought it would be fun to get donuts that she CAN have)

And got harely a couple new toys. There's this springy toy that I thought she would like but it makes a squeaky sound when it moves (which I did not realize when I bought it) and shes a little afraid of it. And a rubbery ball with feathers on the ends that I didn't know if she would like but so far its her favorite. AND I found these cat treats that look and feel like chocolate that are made of beef fat and ive had to hide them from her cuz she was trying to tear open the box to get more.

[caesium-55]

—seven days. [ ii ]

pairing: max verstappen x manager! reader.

summary: as the third time world champion, max verstappen's manager, you function on the belief that whatever max verstappen wanted, max verstappen shall get. but this time, after four years of working as his manager, you can't give him what he wants anymore and that was to stay.

author's note: not beta-read. not edited. here's part 2 folks. part 3 is on the works now. did i write this fic instead of studying for my important quiz tomorrow? yes, yes i did. pls pray for my score.

masterlist.

For Christmas in 2019, Max has gotten you an apartment near his in Monaco. It is a loft apartment good for one on the 8th floor, a building away from where Daniel and Max lived. Originally, he wants to get you the unit a floor below his. You decline quickly, insisting that you are very fine with rooming with Julia and Kendall, who are both members of the Red Bull PR team whom you have gotten close with since your first year working with Red Bull. Max may have beef with the PR team for making him do a lot of embarrassing shit for the views but you're besties with most of them and actually thank them for making Max suffer through PR stuff because you cannot afford therapy and watching Max suffer through PR-related activities is a good form of free therapy. Also, Monaco apartments are fucking expensive. Red Bull might be paying you well but not well enough to afford an apartment in a country as expensive as Monaco.

“I want you close,” he tells you. If you did not know any better, you'd have butterflies fluttering in your intestines right about that moment. Sometimes, Max utter the most heart-fluttering of nonsense without meaning to. It causes your heart to stutter more times than you would like to admit.

“Well, I don't want you close.”

Max will never ever win an argument with you. He knows that. You know that. The best he can do is come to a compromise, a compromise that is usually tailored to suit whatever you want.

So you got that small loft apartment a building away, good for one person only. It's easy to clean and it's cheap, Max already said that, which makes you happy because you can set a payment plan for that. An apartment as a Christmas gift is already too much, borderline giving you a heart attack already. Rich people spending their money give you, a person of the middle class folks, heart attacks. Why can't Max be normal and give you a normal gift? A bracelet? A bag? You’ll even accept it if he gave you a slice of cheesecake. Not even your parents can buy you an apartment.

It has only been three years since the keys are passed on to your ownership and people say three years is enough time for a person to make a place home. But your apartment doesn't even feel like home, only a place you’ll sleep in if you happen to be in Monaco for the evening.

Home is that humble, two-storey house painted in red and yellow in Lynnwood Avenue, Vista Del Pueblo, Austin, a total picture of a picket fence dream. Home is Abuelo's old farmhouse in El Paso where you spent your childhood riding horses and driving ATVs across the dusty dry earth. Home is the retro milkshake place owned by the sweet old couple that has been in the neighborhood longer than your entire existence. Home is the tree-lined streets where you walked the family senior dog, Niko. Home is the Austin Fire House, your Dad’s workplace that you visited a handful of times back when you were a child to deliver cookies that your Abuela baked so your Dad could share it with his co-workers. Home is your mom’s clinic in the middle of downtown, always smelling like eugenol, disinfectant, formaldehyde, and her perfume. Home is not glitz and gold and glamor and cash cash cash. Home is not seeing wealthy people left and right. Home is not Monaco.

And it is not like you stayed long in your place either. You're always off traveling around the world with the Red Bull team and accompanying Max wherever he needs your presence. You don't even spend your breaks in that apartment because you immediately fly home to your family once a break is graciously given to you before flying off again to watch Max collect trophy after trophy.

Six days from now, you're going to be flying off to Texas. That means you have six days—less than six days actually—to pack all your crayons and go. Of course you're going to pack up the day before you leave. Doing shit last minute makes your life exciting, and it's not like you had a lot of shit to pack anyway. All your belongings can be tucked into a total of three suitcases. Three years worth of belongings in three suitcases.

you: you doin good there?

Max has been holing himself up in his penthouse since your arrival from Abu Dhabi, probably dealing with his breakup with Kelly. A shame, really. You thought the two looked good together. (Do they really? the asshole part of your brain thinks.)

And P. Thank God for that child’s existence. You hate children but P is an exception. P brings the best out of Max. Max has gotten the chance to act as the father he never had. It's heartwarming, to be honest.

him: not really no

him: can you bring me coffee

you: on it champ

Fifteen minutes later, you’re knocking on the gigantic double doors of his penthouse, a tall styro cup of espresso from that cute café two streets down and a slice of blueberry cheesecake because you’re thoughtful enough to buy him his favorite cake. You experienced a breakup before. A cake and an icecream work wonders when it came to healing broken hearts.

“You're fast,” he immediately says after opening the door. You kind of expect that he’d look worse, snotty and messy and looking like he ran from hell and back. But no, he looks……fine? His sweater and shorts look absolutely neat and comfortable and dry of snot. His hair is a little fluffy from lying on his bed but not too messy. He doesn't even look like he was crying. No red-rimmed eyes. No red nose.

You fake gasp, putting a hand on your chest for additional dramatic effect, “The fastest racer in F1 callin’ me fast. Truly honored.”

A smile plays on his lips, sidestepping and beckoning you in.

You frequently come by Max’s home, for work purposes of course, but you still cannot help but be amazed by the enormity of it every time you enter. Max’s penthouse is twenty times bigger than the apartment you currently live in. One man and a big house—it must be very lonely now that P and Kelly are no longer around. Now, you’re even more worried about what will happen the moment you go back to Texas.

Oh… You still haven't told him yet.

“Coffee,” you hand him the warm styro cup to which he accepts gratefully. He utters his thanks, taking a whiff before sipping, letting out a pleasured moan.

You make your way to his gigantic kitchen, navigating your way through his cabinets in search of a plate and a fork. You slide the cheesecake on the plate towards Max, who followed you to the kitchen and sat on the empty stool in the kitchen counter.

“Thank you,” he says, picking up the fork and taking a bite. He glances at your feet, eyes trained on your YSL. The obnoxious sound of the heels clicking against the floor as you walk probably is the one that caught his attention.

“You know, you've been wearing the same shoes since 2019.”

Points for Max for noticing. These YSL Opyum heels are the first luxury items you bought for yourself after saving for three years to buy one pair. You saw a rich international student wear it once back in university and you liked how sophisticated it looked compared to all the pairs of converse or platform boots you owned. So you made it your life’s goal to own one. In 2019, after doing tons of part time jobs in university and working with Red Bull for a whole year, you managed to buy yourself one on your birthday and you’d been wearing them to work ever since.

Your regular work uniform consists of a Red Bull polo shirt, a pencil or a slit skirt, and that specific pair of heels. Around 2021, you bought another pair to replace the old one because the old one broke. And 2022 again.

“What's wrong with ‘em?” you ask, brows furrowing as you followed his train of sight. Your heels might be a year old already but they still look fine.

Max blinks, “No, there's nothing wrong. Just…Do you think you would want to wear some other design?”

“No,” is your reply. “I like ‘em just the way they are.”

“Okay.”

Your conversation drifts into something else as Max finishes his coffee and cake. You spend the rest of the day in Max’s penthouse, lying on his plush couch while a slasher movie from the 2000s played on his wide TV. He has given you access on his Netflix account so you abused it to your heart’s content because you don't even have. a Netflix subscription. You can absolutely afford one, you just choose not to. You have opted in using your phone mid-movie because the movie is beginning to get real scary but you do not want Max to think you're a coward so you acted like you're disinterested instead.

“Oh look, Charles is also back in Monaco. Do you want to hang out together?” you nudge Max with your foot, who swats it away from him, face contorting in disgust. You show him the post on Charles private IG—yes, you were mutuals in each other's private IG because whoever is friends with Max was friends with you by extension—on your phone.

“Stop makin’ that face, my feet are nice.”

Your toenails are a glorious red now. Ferrari red actually and they suit you better than the Red Bull red. Huh, maybe you should have considered applying for Ferrari instead of Renault in 2018.

“No, it isn't.”

You roll your eyes, pulling it away from him and sitting up, “Do you want me to schedule you a dinner with Charles? You might need the bro time, you know? Dad said bro times are also important, but not as important as family time, of course. My bro broke up with his sweetheart back when I was still in uni and his best buds were the reason he was back up in tippy top shape by the end of the week.”

Max stares at you blankly, “I think I understand the words individually but not the sentence entirely. I don't know if it's the accent or you Americans just have a strange way of structuring your sentences.”

“Point is, hang out with a friend because a friend can help you move on from a pussy.”

Max hurls a throw pillow at your direction, which you luckily avoided thanks to your non-racer level but still considerably good reaction time, but unfortunately, this action causes your center of gravity to shift and before you know it, you're falling from the couch. Unconsciously, you grab Max but then Max doesn't expect that you’ll grab him so now, you’re both falling off the couch and onto the floor.

You groan.

“Fuckin’ ass, man. That was uncalled for.”

He flips you off.

Nevertheless, Max ends up following your advice though and calls Charles to hang out the next day. Lestappen fans should be thanking you on Twitter the next day for bringing those two together on an off-day in Monaco. Maybe they'll hang out and eat together in a restaurant? Maybe they'll go on a yacht picnic?

Except Max sends you a message at high noon.

him: sos

you: is your kitchen burning

him: no

him: but this is still an emergency and you need to come quick

him: he’s with his girlfriend and i don’t want to thirdwheel

you: succ it up

him: you can’t do this to me

him: i just got my heart broken in abu dhabi

you: where are you

him: home

him: i also need help in cooking

Charles is the one who answers the door when you knock. He looks genuinely surprised when he sees you and you deduce that Max hasn't told him that you're coming over.

“Babe, who’s that?” you hear Alex’s voice behind Charles and you light up immediately, quickly moving past Charles to throw your hands around the sweet young woman.

“Alex!” Alexandra laughs and hugs you back. The sound of her laughter is as pretty as she and God definitely has favorites because why did he sculpt this twenty-one year old like the daughter of the Aphrodite while you look like you were born from one of Hephaestus’ sperm that lost the gene pool contest? The world is unfair. You always get the short end of the stick, may it be career-wise or appearance-wise, and you can't even bring your personality to the table because normally, without the whole act of professionalism and sophistication you put on, you act like an extroverted American frat boy on a good day and a sassy drag queen slash war freak on a bad day so yeah, you guess that's the short end of the stick, too.

“Seriously?” you look up and saw Max holding a frying pan, staring at you unimpressed. You roll your eyes and slowly pull away from the hug, gaze returning to Alexandra.

“How’ve you been, sweetie? Been a while since I last saw you.”

You didn't get a chance to talk to her in Abu Dhabi and in Las Vegas.

“Good,” she replies, smiling sweetly and ugh, you want to pinch her cheeks so bad. But Charles is pulling you away from Alexandra before you can do so.

“No, no, she is mine, yours is right over there,” Charles says, pointing at Max, who's still standing there in the corner. “Go on. Shoo.”

You roll your eyes before walking up to Max, “‘Sup?”

Max raises a brow at you, “So Charles’ girlfriend gets a hug and I get a sup?”

“Well, she's Alexandra Saint Mleux and you’re just….” you look him up and down. “Nevermind, what you trynna cook?”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

“I thought you said you were cooking.”

“I said I needed help with cooking.”

Your eyes narrow into slits, “You’re going to let me do the cooking, aren't you?”

“You know that pasta you made in September that you said was your mother’s recipe?”

A sigh escapes your lips as you roll the sleeves of your button-up to your elbows and power-walked your way to the kitchen, the sound of your YSL heels clicking against the floor bouncing against the walls of Max’s kitchen.

Lunch goes great. Charles and Alexandra love your cooking. Max has even asked for seconds. Good to know that he's eating well. Somewhere down the line, champagne is served even though it’s mid-afternoon and the four of you're sitting in Max’s balcony, staring at Monaco scape below. Thankfully, it is a cloudy day in Monaco. The heat of the sun isn't too harsh on the skin. Despite that, you hand Max a sun screen.

“Sorry about Kelly, by the way,” Alexandra says. Your conversation has drifted towards Max’s failed relationship now.

“That is very nice of you to say,” replies Max, smiling slightly. “But I’m okay.”

You give him a look, clearly unconvinced. Admitting vulnerability gives him hives so he's definitely lying.

“You look too okay for a guy who ended a three-year relationship,” Charles muses and his words get you immediately thinking.

Oh? So they’ve been dating that long? You never noticed.

“Even [Name] looked worse when she broke up with that Williams mechanic two years ago and they dated for like what? Barely a year?”

“Unprovoked!” you exclaim. Alex and Max laugh.

But yeah, Charles is right. When you broke up with Leo in 2021, it was not the prettiest sight. He entered Williams mid-2020 as a mechanic and he immediately caught your attention. He's kind and handsome and a very sweet guy. You have similar interests—engineering—and a similar sense of humor and you just….work so well together, you know? You were sure he was your soulmate the moment he cracked up that Physics pickup line and you know it was the same with him. You swore to God that you’d run away from all the British charming assholes but Leo made you eat your own words and gave you a run for your money.

But alas, 2021 season came and Red Bull Racing became busier than ever because Max and Hamilton got crazily competitive and Max demanded your full attention, needing you as a support system to win.

And Leo. Well, he’s busy, too. Engineers are always busy. But he felt neglected because all your attention was on Max. He felt like he was competing with Max for your attention and it shouldn't even be a competition in the first because Leo was the boyfriend and Max was not. And you cannot even deny that you prioritized Max that year. You wanted Max to win. You needed Max to win, so he can finally ask Horner to move you to the engineering team.

Losing Leo is devastating but Max won the WDC title that year and while you spent nearly a month crying over Leo after the breakup, you're hoping that at least, in 2022, you’ll finally get that damned engineering position at the cost of losing your soulmate. That the tears you shed and the broken heart you carried inside your ribs will be worth it if it was in exchange for your dream. Then, it does not happen. The job isn't given to you and you spent the early months of the 2023 season wishing that you have chosen Leo instead of Max Verstappen.

“You’re still friends with him, right?” Charles turns to you.

“Of course,” you say honestly. You're still mutuals on IG and he still hearts your IG stories at times. You still talk, too, on the freer nights where there's a lot of time to waste. “We ended on good terms.”

“How about you, Max?”

“Can we not talk about this please?”

The four of you empty that bottle of champagne and once the sun has begun retiring for the night, Alex and Charles also left. You're soon to follow, fixing your tote bag and going through the mental checklist in your head so you will not forget anything and not waste energy returning here to pick it up.

“You can stay for dinner.”

Max’s offer surprises you.

“No.”

His face drops as quickly as your answer came.

“You're goin’ to let me cook again.”

“No, I’ll cook.”

You give him an unimpressed look. Clearly, you're not convinced.

“I swear, I’ll cook.”

“What if I get poisoned?”

“You won't get poisoned.”

When you continue staring at him, he sighs.

“Just stay please?”

Of course, you stayed. He asked after all.

You keep your eyes on him as he makes dinner with clumsy hands and a bit of unsureness behind his actions.

“You're goin’ to burn it, honey,” you point out.

“What honey? I didn't put any honey in it.”

You blink. He blinks back.

“You’re gonna give me aneurysm one day.”

Shaking your head, you walk into the bathroom at the end of the enormous hallway, lock the door behind you, lean your back against the door, and slowly slides down until your ass meets the cold bathroom floor. You slap a palm against your forehead and purse your lips to stop a scream from erupting.

God fucking dammit, Max is too adorable back there and this is not doing good things for your heart.

[roosterforme]

The Younger Kind Part 39 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: It's not hard for Bradley to convince you to buy a formal dress. He also easily gets you to stop referring to the house as only his. But his behavior after the three of you return from the lake house might not be something you're willing to deal with.

Warnings: Swearing, fluff, smut, spanking, pregnancy talk, and age gap (18+)

Length: 4500 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! The Younger Kind masterlist.

Bradley had to laugh, because while the Christmas in July fake birthday party all weekend long had been great, he and Maverick were the ones stuck cleaning up the decorations. 

"They really left us here, huh?"

"Yeah, Mav," Bradley replied. "They really left us here to clean up while they took Noah out for breakfast." But he didn't mind. You told him it would give him a chance to talk to his dad's best friend for a few minutes. 

When Bradley started to disassemble the Christmas tree, Mav asked him, "Are you planning on going to Warlock's retirement thing?"

"Retirement thing?" Bradley asked.

"Yeah. The surprise party. I keep forgetting about it." When Bradley's brow scrunched in confusion, the other man waved his hand. "You'll get an invitation this week. Most of Top Gun is invited."

Bradley felt for a second like he'd finally reached the upper echelon of work related events, because if he did in fact manage to get an invitation to an Admiral's retirement party, it was going to be swanky. "Black tie?"

"Oh yeah," Mav replied as he packed up strand after strand of lights. "Just wear your dress whites."

But that wasn't what Bradley was concerned about. If you needed to wear a formal gown, then you'd need to use your princess credit card. And he didn't want you balking at the price of a dress. He wanted you to go out and find something you wanted to wear for the night, and he didn't want to argue with you about the money. He had plenty of it; that was the downside to losing your parents when you were young and inheriting both of their life insurance policies. 

"Yeah, I can just wear my dress whites," Bradley replied as he decided perhaps you'd respond better to picking out a dress if he promised to spank you afterwards.

Once Bradley shoved the Christmas tree back into the closet, he could hear you pull the Bronco back into the driveway. Maverick handed him a beer, and he was sipping it when you walked in and headed right for him. "Daddy," you whispered, kissing his cheek. Amelia walked in holding hands with Noah, and Penny brought up the rear.

"We brought you some muffins," Penny said, shaking a white bag at Bradley. 

"Thanks," he replied before leaning down closer to you. He could practically still feel the tug of your fingers in his hair as he made love to you last night, once again with his hand over your mouth. "I actually like it better when you make breakfast for us at home," he said softly, just for you. "Did you have a nice time?"

You just shrugged. "The food was good, but the coffee sucked. I miss the French vanilla coffee you bring home for me sometimes."

"In the special Princess cups?"

You practically moaned for him. "I love it when you stop and get me coffee. Do you have any idea how hard I was crushing on you when you would bring that home with you on days when I was babysitting Noah? Or when you started buying French vanilla creamer for your house for me?"

Bradley eyed everyone else out on the back deck while he took a sip of the beer he was still holding and wrapped his arm a little tighter around you. "Tell me, Princess. Remind me. How hard were you crushing on me?"

Your lips met his neck, and sure enough, your fingers went to his hair. He stood there feeling kind of smug as you kissed him and murmured, "Couldn't stop thinking about you. I was so jealous of every girl you went out with. I wanted you to touch me so badly."

Bradley backed you up against the wall and pressed his body to yours. "I knew from the beginning I was wasting my time with them when you were at home."

You let your head tip back against the wall, and he leaned down to kiss you. "Well I'm always at your house now." You hooked your fingers through his belt loops and grinned. "I can't wait to make myself a latte from your fancy coffee maker tomorrow before work. The coffee is better from your kitchen."

Bradley froze with his palm pressed to the wall next to your head and your pretty eyes on him. "Baby, it's our house now."

Your eyes fluttered closed as you whispered, "Our house," like it was your fairy tale castle instead of a Coronado bungalow. Like he really was your knight. 

"Hey," he rasped, waiting until your eyes were open again. He ran his fingers along your cheek. "I love you. So fucking much. But I won't spank you ever again if you call it my house. You understand?"

"Daddy," you gasped as he pulled himself away from you and finished his beer with a smirk. Your eyes narrowed, and he should have been alarmed by your smirk that matched his. "If you don't promise to spank me when we get home tonight, I'll paint your entire house beige. And I'll stop buying salad dressing. And I'll go down to the lake right now and catch a pet fish for Noah."

"Fuck," he gasped, actually feeling a little panicky before you and he burst into laughter together. "Damn, you're good. And you know I'll give you whatever you want. But you've got to give me what I want, too. Call it our house."

You pecked his cheek and said, "Let me start packing so we can leave for our house in a few hours."

"That's more like it," he replied as he went to join everyone else on the deck.

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

You offered to drive, but Bradley told you to relax instead. You and Noah both ended up yawning fifteen minutes into the ride back to San Diego, and then you were both falling asleep. While Noah actually needed the afternoon nap so he wasn't cranky later, you just wanted to enjoy the feel of the warm sunshine on your face and Bradley's hand in yours. 

You were using his address as your own for work, and all of your mail was being sent there. Your stuff was in virtually every room, but there were still times that it felt like his and Noah's space. The new bed helped you feel more comfortable, and obviously Bradley let you do whatever you wanted throughout the house. But he was right; it was time you started to take ownership. That was your bungalow now with the snag in the living room rug and the crack along the driveway just as much as it was his. You dozed off thinking about the internet tabs open on his phone as he rubbed your left ring finger. 

Once again, Bradley had to wake you up when you arrived. He kissed you softly until your eyes opened to the afternoon sun. "We're home," he whispered. 

"Our house," you mumbled as you sat up straight and stretched. 

"Our house," he echoed. And then your heart melted as he asked, "Do you want to take our son inside while I carry in all of our shit?"

You smiled and turned to see that Noah was just waking up as well. "Yeah, I'll take our son inside." It was the most natural thing you could have said as you pecked Bradley's lips and climbed out onto the driveway.

"Mommy," Noah whined as you unbuckled him. "I have to pee." 

"Keys!" you shouted to Bradley where he was already unloading the back of the Bronco, and he tossed them to you. As quickly as you could, you hauled Noah up to the front porch and got him into the bathroom without incident. "You feel better?" you asked, and he nodded at you.

"Yeah. Mostly because there were no bears at the lake."

You had to stifle your laughter. This child was the sweetest thing you'd ever encountered in your life. "Told you that Daddy wasn't lying about the bears. What was your favorite part of the weekend?" you asked as you helped him wash his hands. 

"The worms."

Once again, you wanted to laugh, because you didn't even need to leave the backyard to find worms, let alone drive hours away to an enormous lake. "Don't tell Daddy that," you mumbled as you walked out of the bathroom to see Bradley dumping bags and boxes in the hallway.

"I think we overpacked," he said as he headed outside for more. "If we go on another family vacation, I'm supervising the packing, because now I know you can't be trusted with it."

"When we go on another family vacation," you called after him. You rolled your eyes and headed to the kitchen to start making spaghetti for dinner. Then you grinned as you set Noah up with a coloring book at the table. You kissed his soft hair and said, "Don't forget to remind your dad that you still want a dog, okay?"

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

When Bradley took a minute to actually sort through the mail from Friday, he found the invitation to Admiral Bates' retirement party. A black tie formal at the San Diego Botanic Gardens. It was in less than two weeks, and his wife wanted it to be a surprise for him. Bradley would have to get his dress whites dry cleaned before then, but it would be harder to convince you to buy a gown. If you even wanted to go with him. 

At the moment, you were reading a bedtime story on Noah's floor and teaching him how to sound out the words. God, Bradley was fucking obsessed with how patient and sweet you were. Noah was snuggled up in your lap, looking at the book and saying the word castle when Bradley walked in. Wordlessly, he sat on the edge of Noah's bed and watched his son work through all the words on the page with your help. 

Maybe you'd get pregnant right away. Bradley didn't know if he'd be able to handle the excitement. He could spend a weekend getting the other bedroom set up as a nursery when it was time. When Meredith was pregnant, she only took him to one ultrasound appointment, but this time, if it happened, he'd beg you to let him go to all of them. Or as many as he could if he wasn't deployed. 

"Daddy?" you asked, handing Noah up to him. 

Bradley was shaken from his very pleasant thoughts by his son in his arms. He smiled and kissed Noah while he yawned before turning and getting him tucked in. "I still want a dog," Noah mumbled as he rolled onto his side, and Bradley shot you a dirty look. 

"What?" you asked innocently as you abruptly stood and headed for the door. You were off down the hallway, running to yours and his bedroom, but Bradley was right on your tail. 

He caught you in his arms as you laughed. "You know, all you've done since you got here is completely wreck our routine," he growled next to your ear as he held you tight. "You've literally destroyed our former way of life."

"What?" you gasped, trying to look up at him.

"You heard me," he whispered, kissing your hair. "You've got Noah reading books and eating homemade meals. You've turned me into a complete fucking mess with your glossy lips and your smile and your little dresses. And you have absolutely no regard for the fact that I get an erection whenever I smell wildflowers." 

You were all giggles now as he carried you to the bed. "It's your fault for being such a Daddy," you whispered with a grin. 

He set you down, and you lounged back against the pillows, your dress resting high on your thighs. Then he pulled the folded up invitation out of his back pocket and handed it to you as he climbed in bed too. "You wanna go with me?" he asked as you read it.

When your eyes darted up to meet his, you whispered, "I've never been to a black tie event before."

"Then you'll need a dress. Where's your phone?"

You bit your lip. "In the kitchen."

"Use mine," he replied, unlocking it and handing it to you with a new internet tab all ready for you to start shopping. "Order some dresses. And go to the mall after work one day this week if you want."

You took his phone but hesitantly said, "If I'm only going to wear it one time, I don't even know what to buy."

"Get whatever you want, Princess," he coaxed. "Maybe something purple?"

"Maybe..." you muttered as Bradley rolled you onto your belly in the middle of the bed. He watched over your shoulder as you started scrolling through some dresses, and he was practically salivating, because they would all look incredible on you. "Purple would be pretty."

"Mmhmm," he hummed, running his hands up the backs of your thighs and pushing your dress up around your waist. You glanced back at him as he carefully started to pull your underwear down. 

"What are you doing?" you asked with a little smirk as he inched your underwear down your legs and set them on the bed. 

He ran his big hands back up to your ass and bent to kiss you there. He could just see a glimpse of your pretty pussy as he kissed along the top of your thigh. "Exactly what you want me to do. But only if you order a dress." 

When you turned back to his phone, he ran his mustache along your perfect, soft skin. You were flawless, partly because of your age, but also because of how attractive you were. He was never going to tire of listening to your breath hitch when he touched you like his. He kneaded and palmed the globes of your ass, teasing down to your pussy with his thumbs until you whimpered. 

He tasted your skin everywhere, his tongue delving into your wetness as he pushed your legs further apart. You lifted yourself up onto your knees slightly, and he let you get away with it so he could taste more of you. But when you started to grind back against his face, he stilled you with his hands. 

"Did you pick out a dress yet?" he asked, licking the taste of your pussy from his mustache.

Your voice was quivering slightly. "I like this one, but it's expensive," you told him, holding up his phone. It was purple and two pieces with a fluffy Princess skirt. The top was covered in beads and would show off the tiniest bit of your waist all the way around. He was practically drooling just thinking about how much fun he'd have pushing all that fabric up to get to you. 

"Order it," he groaned before literally sinking his teeth into your ass and gently biting you so you squealed for him. "Order it right now, and I'll spank you and then fuck you."

"Okay," you moaned, and a minute later, you tossed his phone next to your underwear. "I ordered it." Bradley kissed you all over your ass before collecting you in his arms and draping you over his lap as he sat on the edge of the bed. 

And just like last time, you loved it. He could tell. Every time his palm met your perfect body, you moaned his name and rubbed yourself against his thigh. Your skin felt warm as he soothed you and then spanked you again and again. "You're a good girl when you use the credit card," he crooned before dipping two fingers inside your pussy without warning. 

"Daddy!" you nearly shrieked, grinding back on his hand. He finger fucked you hard before withdrawing and then spanking you with his wet hand. The slapping noise and your reaction to him had him on the verge as he pulled you upright.

There were tears in your eyes and a soft smile on your face as you let him kiss your lips. He stroked his thumb along your cheek and whispered, "Get on your hands and knees."

You nodded and scrambled onto the bed, and he stood there and admired the sight before him. You were all round ass and soaking wet pussy as you pressed your cheek to the bedding and whined, "Bradley." He carefully unzipped his jeans, yanked them down, and thrust all the way inside you. The gentle hiss and soft groan as he filled you let him know you felt good. 

He let you have a few slow strokes before he grabbed you by the hips. Then he fucked you harder as you turned your head to bury your cries. A formal dress. A baby. A wife. He could think about little else besides you at the moment as he fucked you until he unloaded inside you with your name on his lips. 

Bradley knew he was a little rough as his hips continued to jerk, fucking his cum deeper. You lifted your face away from the bedding and started to crawl away from him, giving him a beautiful view of your pussy leaking his cum. 

"I'm sorry, Baby," he mumbled, shaking his head and climbing into the bed next to you. "I'm sorry I was a little rough." He was about to ask you if you wanted him to get you off with his mouth or his hands when you very gently reached for his face.

"I like it when you're rough," you whispered, voice full of emotion. "I like it when you're gentle with me, too. I love everything. I love living here with you in our house." You snuggled in closer to him and let your chin rest on his shoulder. "I love you."

"I love you too, Princess."

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

Getting back into your work routine was hard after taking a few days off and sleeping in with Bradley each morning. Dr. Kelly even joked that you looked too well rested. "How was the lake?" she asked, and you immediately thought about Bradley untying your bathing suit on the boat. 

"Great," you replied as casually as you could. "Noah had the best weekend. Once we convinced him there were no bears at Big Bear Lake."

Her eyes went wide as she reached for some latex gloves and followed you toward an exam room. "Could you imagine if he actually saw one?"

You shook your head immediately. "Don't even want to think about it."

As the afternoon wore on, you realized your butt was still sore, and you were hungry for ants on logs. And this was all because you were in love with being in love with the Bradshaw boys. When you took a short break and checked your phone, there was a text from Bradley.

Bradley Bradshaw: Hey, I'll be late today. Need to take care of some things at work. Can you pick Noah up?

You let him know you'd be happy to get Noah, and then you realized that maybe you'd get to see Casey, too. You were still giddy at the prospect of annoying her when you arrived at the daycare only to find Geena, the older teacher at the front desk. 

She greeted you warmly and then asked you for your ID. "I know that Casey probably knows you by now, and she's usually out here in the afternoons. But since she left a little early today, I'll just need to check your drivers license."

"No problem," you told her with a smile as you pulled it out of your wallet for her to inspect. She had you sign the sheet on the clipboard and then she vanished to get Noah. You wondered how late Bradley would be, but he never responded to your text when you asked him. Then Noah came running out, and you bent to scoop him up in your arms. 

"Mommy, we painted seashells today!" he gushed, holding up a ziplock bag with his name on it filled with colorful shells. 

"Noah! They're beautiful!" you told him as you waved goodbye to Geena and took him out to your car. "Do you want to turn them into a craft for Daddy when we get home?"

"Yeah!"

An hour later, you were still in your scrubs from work, making dinner while Noah glued some of the smaller shells onto a sheet of construction paper. You stopped what you were doing occasionally to help him arrange the shells to spell DADDY. "Looking good," you told him as he sounded out the letters. He loved reading, and you loved how excited he got. 

You kissed his forehead and then checked your phone as it vibrated on the counter. But when you saw it was your coworker trying to plan a happy hour, you set it down and sighed. You weren't sure if you should make a plate of food for Bradley or not. He'd probably be starving when he got home, so you decided to leave a serving out on the counter for him while you and Noah ate together. But you ended up just picking at your food. You hadn't heard from Bradley in hours. 

"Wanna get changed for bed?" you asked Noah after dinner. He went racing off to his bedroom and dug around in his drawer for his dinosaur pajamas. When he put the shirt on backwards, you helped him switch it around. 

"I want a snack," he told you just as you heard the front door open. Your heart leapt as you and he raced into the living room. Bradley looked exhausted in his rumpled uniform, and he was carrying a light blue box in one hand. 

"Hey, Bub," he said, kneeling so Noah could hug him. "You have a good day?"

"I made you a craft!"

Bradley looked up at you and smiled a little hesitantly. "Sorry I'm late," he mumbled as Noah yanked on his arm until he stood. He kissed your cheek as he was led into the kitchen, and Noah showed him the construction paper that was absolutely saturated with drying glue and seashells. "Wow! I love this! I think we need to let it dry overnight though."

"That's what Mommy said," Noah replied as Bradley set him down in one of the chairs. 

"What's in the box?" you asked. He opened it up to reveal a whole variety of pastries. Cookies, cupcakes, brownies and even a donut shaped like a crown. Now you felt bad for being a little annoyed with his lack of communication all afternoon and evening. 

Noah reached into the box, and Bradley snatched up the donut before he could get to it. "This one's yours."

"Thanks," you whispered before biting into it. The outside melted in your mouth, and the inside was filled with rich cream. It was delicious. Bradley leaned down to lick the corner of your mouth, and you felt your cheeks grow warm.

But once Noah was asleep, Bradley took a quick shower alone and collapsed into bed. "I'm fucking beat today," he said with an enormous yawn. "You ready for bed?" 

"Yeah," you agreed as he pulled the blanket over himself, and after you took a long shower he was already asleep. So you just snuggled in next to him, and eventually you fell asleep, too. 

The following morning, Bradley was still sound asleep when your alarm went off, something that never happened. "Daddy," you whispered, shaking him and kissing his cheek. "Wake up." He just grunted at you and rolled over. "Seriously?" you muttered, rolling out of bed since you could hear Noah in the bathroom. You changed into clean scrubs and skipped makeup since Noah was bugging for breakfast as soon as he saw you.

"Eggs or cereal?" you asked him once you had him dressed for the day. 

"Cereal," he replied. "And can I have another cookie? From the blue box?"

"We'll see," you said, setting him up with breakfast and then going back to find Bradley half dressed in his flight suit and messing with his phone. "You're up."

His eyes met yours, and he tucked his phone in his pocket. "Yeah. Sorry, I don't know why I was so tired. Can you drop Noah off so I'm not late?"

You nodded, and he cupped your cheek in his big hand. "Thanks, Princess." Then he grabbed the travel mug of coffee you made for him and took a protein bar and a cookie. With a quick kiss to Noah's head, he was out the front door. 

"Daddy had a cookie," Noah whined. "I want one, too."

You realized there was no point in arguing with him if Bradley was the one setting a bad example, so you carried the pastry box over to the table. You noticed it was from Sweet Dreams Bakery which was all the way across the city. Noah managed to snag two cookies as you stood there with the box open in a daze. Why was Bradley on the other side of San Diego yesterday? It was mostly residential over there.

"Shit," you muttered under your breath. You'd be late if you didn't get Noah in the car in the next few minutes. You quickly made yourself lunch and grabbed everything he would need before hauling him out to the car. You gently swiped cookie crumbs from his face and clothes as you buckled him in. "I'll drop you off quickly, and then Daddy will pick you up later, okay?"

Noah just nodded as he smiled. He would probably be on a sugar high within the hour, but at least he would be someone else's problem to deal with then. And you quickly learned that he would be Casey's problem to deal with when you took him inside and realized that you looked like a nightmare compared to her today. She was wearing an outfit so cute, you kind of wished you had one just like it. And she smiled maliciously at you.

"Good morning, Noah," she said sweetly as she practically tossed the clipboard in your direction. She walked him into the classroom as you signed your name and put the date and time. 

"Thanks," you mumbled, handing the clipboard back to her when she reappeared. 

"You know, I'm a little surprised it's you dropping him off today instead of Bradley. I mean, Lieutenant Bradshaw." She looked so smug you wanted to scream and smear her perfect makeup. 

But you stood there and calmly said, "We've already been over this. I'll be dropping Noah off and picking him up as well now. Indefinitely."

"Okay," she replied, barely paying any attention to you as she opened up a light blue pastry box identical to the one in your kitchen. "You keep telling yourself that."

You swallowed hard and looked between her face and the box one more time before you turned on your heel and rushed back out to your car.

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

What's up, Daddy? And why? Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 40

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@chassy21

@solacestyles

@avoirlecoupdefoudre

@daisyhollyxox

@awesomebooklover17

@wintercap89

@rosesinmars

@blog-name6996

@bcon24

@backinwonderl4nd

@gingerbreadandpaper

@emptyloverofmine

@chaoticassidy

@missmirandafe

@changlingkhat

@sugarcoated-lame

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187

@katiebby04

@marantha

@averyhotchner

@abaker74

@heli991113

@k-k0129

@noz4a2

@tallyovie

@shanimallina87

@little-wiseone

@ccbb2222

@lilyevanswhore

@o-the-o-grim-o-reaper-o

@xoxabs88xox

@thedroneranger

@bradshawsbitch

@cherrycola27

@fanboyswhore9

@xomrsalliej4787xo

@desert-fern

@sylviebell

@wkndwlff

@horseslovers2016

@gennyanydots

@pieceuvmind

@mattyskies

@hookslove1592

@blahehblah

[makncheese12]

Top Shelf

Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7

Jenna Ortega x fem!reader

Masterlist

Summary: being the kid of a well-known book store owner was easy, so was running into famous people. But being book smart doesn’t make everyone people smart.

Warnings: my writing, language(bad words😯), my attempt at being funny, mention of gun shots and head shots, mentions of my favorite book(literally love Ruta Sepetys sm omg.

A/N: part 2? I am going to make you all suffer through the most oblivious slow burn. R if going to be so dumb/oblivious it’ll hurt you all🫶🏻

Word count - 3.6k

Credits: @novmoth (my friend from school who feeds into my delusions and gives me more ideas for this story🫶🏻)

(bare with me English is not my first language🥲 I’m getting help from my friend to edit it)

You were born to it.

The books. The films. The music and video games.

It was your life, literally. With your parents being owners of the infamous establishment called ‘top shelf’, you had no choice but to.

And you wouldn’t ever change.

Books upon books, movie after movie, games old and new and music that could last you weeks. Who would want to change such a life?

Your father was the first to start it.

He was poor man in Washington but had just enough money to buy it from the man who owned the small movie shop before he retired. He slowly started added book shelves and video games to the mix. Getting few customers but enough to survive day to day during the time of his early years

Your mother was a wealthy run away. Wanting something different and new in her life when she met your father. The man was playing on his game boy behind the counter before he saw her.

The poor boy and his run away wife, a classic really.

The rest after that is history.

As soon as they found out your mother was pregnant with you, they used the rest of her money they saved and went to New York where they bought the huge abandoned apartment complex.

They broke all the insides down and built what you now know as your second home. Hundreds of video games, films and music in one section and thousands of books in another.

Thus, Top Shelf was born only two weeks after you.

You met many friends there in the comfort section where students and business people worked as you all goofed off.

Your had also met your small friend group during your younger years, the four of you all never letting your father have the peace he wanted and dragging him all over New York.

With the thousands of books and hundreds of video games and films your parents sold, you had money. Lots of it.

But your mother made sure you never let that get the best of you, never. It went against everything she went for when she ran away.

She would make sure you would work for and earn everything you got, always.

She never let you have too much online activity, in case her family found you and made sure you were both street smart and book smart.

Your neighbors made sure you were street smart more than anything but you still gave her credit for trying.

Though, the book store was beautiful in every season. Winter was a favorite and when it was busiest. It was too your favorite.

Your father lighting the public fire place, your mother setting soft seasonal music, hell even the cheesy Christmas cartoons on the TV’s set the mood for the perfect bookstore vibe.

The lights dim just enough to where it almost felt like dark academy yet the plants that grew down the upstairs railing made the entire place feel more alive.

————

“Bullshit!” You yell out as you throw your head back onto the head rest of your chair, groaning loudly as the photo sound of your death snapped in your ears.

“Man, he’s fucking using cheats!” Dru calls out through the mic before his name pops up above to yours in dark red on the screen as you respawn.

“Of course he is, he’s a pussy.” Mj says, as her name, too, pops up on the screen.

“Oh come on, guys!” Lyle says through his staticky mic. “You all just suck.” He laughs

“Now I know your cheating, dude. Your mic is acting up again, just like last time!” Dru says, the sound of his voice booming louder than needed and you roll my eyes.

“DD, just because you like to replay games without using cheats doesn’t mean the rest of us do.” Lyle says in a matter-of-fact tone.

“It’s multiplayer, stupid! It’s meant to be fair for everyone!” Dru says making you snort. “Says the guy who chases around little kids and steals their horses making them cry.” Mj says making Dru blow into his mic making loud, unnecessary noises.

“Quit that!” You say taking one head phone off your ear. “Tsk tsk tsk,” Lyle starts. “Such a sore loser.”

“I’ll show you sore loser, get on Elden ring and we’ll test your irritation.” Dru says, mic now muffled by his own spit.

“Your tank build is not enough to stop me, comet azur will always save the day.” He says in a sing-song voice.

“And you call me a try hard, yet you’re the one always using a broken spell.” Dru complains. “Theres nothing I have to try hard at when I can just hold a simple button.” The sound of Dru’s groans become louder as his spit clears out from his Mic. “Same thing!”

You laugh once again before picking up your phone and looking at the time.

“Shit!” Your eyes go wide at the sight, 8:48 AM.

You quickly throw the head set off and push yourself out of the chair, opening your closet grabbing a quick pair of jeans and a hoodie before rushing to put it all on.

Your cat skids across the floor, startled by your sudden movements before a crashing in the your pile of books and out the door.

“Shit, shit, shit,” you mumble as you jump up and down to put on your shoes, failing at not falling and race toward the door. “Sorry!” You call to your cat who yells at you next to his food bowl.

You grab your keys and rush out the door before slamming it shut and locking it.

“Ay, y/n!” Your neighbor, Rosa, shouts from beside her door. “Quiet will you! I just put Nona to sleep!” She yells raising her news paper tapping your head with it.

“Sorry! sorry, Señora Rosa.” You whisper yell as you try to push her weaponized hand away. “I’m just a little late.”

“And I just got a moment of peace! Quiet!” She says giving you one last wack making you try and shrink away from her as you rush toward the stairs.

“You got your pepper spray, right?” She calls and you raise your key chain to show her the attached small can. “¡Buena niña!”

You rush down the stairs and push passed the glass door, almost slipping on the ice before running down the street.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket making you quickly take it out.

“Hello?” You ask without knowing who it was.

“Arthur Morgan would be very disappointed at your sudden disappearance from an important mission.” Lyle says before sighing.

“It’s multiplayer, there are no main missions.” You say, trying to avoid the ice on the ground before stopping at the red hand across the street. “Plus, we were in the middle of four way 1v1. He’d be more upset that we were going against each other.”

“Loyalty is everything in such a game,” he says, sarcasm in his voice and you imagine him shaking his head. “Of course he would be upset at my bullet in DD’s head.”

“Why’d you call me exactly?” You ask watching the hand turn into a green man walking before taking off again.

“Well, you just yelled ‘shit!’ Before disappearing on us, had to make sure someone didn’t break in and kill you.” He replies casually as if he knew that weren’t the case. “But after hearing you continue on your ‘shit’ rant and the door slam I figured it was okay, just had to call and make sure, y’know?”

“Ever heard of a text, loser?” You ask, barley missing a man walking and looking down at his phone. “Gross,” he says before making a gagging noise. “why waste such time typing when I can simply just hit one button?”

“You’re so lazy.” You laugh out loud as you run across another street. “Work smarter not harder, Y/N. You should know this with that big brain of yours.”

“What if I want to work both smarter and harder?” You ask, running up to the glass window to see the books lined up. “Well, then your just weird.” You roll your eyes.

“Just kidding. I guess you can do both, I just personally prefer the alternative.” He says as the sound of guns shooting fills the phone. “Yeah, also sorry about leaving.” You say pushing into the store being greeting with the familiar smell of books and the warm smile of my mother.

“I forgot I had to get ready for work.”

“You’re at top shelf?” He ask and you reply with a ‘mhm’. “I might stop by later to say hello actually, I need a new game anyway.” He laughs as the sound of Dru yelling in the back ground becomes more prominent.

“Sounds good, see you loser” You say as you take your sweat shirt off, leaving you in your tank top you hand before leaving. “Later,” you hear him say before hanging up.

“Good morning,” you hear your mother say as you pull the staff sweat shirt over your head and pull up your sleeves. “Mornin’,” you reply before kissing her cheek.

“Wheres dad?” You ask looking around before your eyes setting on the woman stack a pile of books into one pile.

“He’s going to be out of town for a few days,” she says carrying the pile to the check back station. “A vacation, I insisted as I continue your training.” She says making you smile.

“We both know he needs it, he’s getting older.” She says and your smile fades as you nod. “So are you.” You mumble and she, too, nods.

“You know him getting old is different from me getting old.” She states, sighing quietly.

“What’s todays task?” You ask, quickly changing the subject at the sight of her sad frown. She looks at you for a moment before smiling once again.

She moves to storage closet and unlocks it, allowing you to see the boxes upon boxes along with stacks of different other things.

“To be a good store owner, you have to know your customers.” She says returning with a large box that you quickly take from her.

“Just put it on that table — and to know your customers, you must socialize and help them throughout the store.” She finishes as you take the box to the table noticing the label romance written across it.

“That also means having to work while helping the customers, so you’ll be on stock duty as well.” She says with a smile.

Yes.

You mentally say to yourself. Stock duty required work of you finding the places of different books, movies and games which also meant finding new things you didn’t know about before.

“One more thing,” you mother says as she walks behind the counter to finish opening up the store. “No head phones.” Your eyes go wide.

“But ma!” You call out to the lady who switches the sign from closed to open. “What else am I supposed to do when I stock!” You call, holding onto the white cords and swinging them around.

“Help the customers and socialize.” She laughs out making you frown. “I should call CPS.” You mumble carrying the box to the sorted area before hearing the woman’s laugh.

“Sure, call ahead but don’t be disappointed when they decline a twenty year old.”

You roll your eyes before continuing down the aisle.

“And after you sort those, get the others out of the storage closet!” You huff quietly as you glance back with a small playful glare on your face.

“If I wanted to work out, I would have gone to the gym.” You say and she rolls her eyes. “You’ll be just as sore in the morning, trust me.”

————

Hours hand passed, since you last seen the romance box having moved on to the horror section of the films.

You search through their placement areas, looking at all the old cinematic master pieces, the many Dracula films placed neatly next to each other, in order of both year and name.

Horror was one of the favorites when coming here, your father being a collected through his years he had many people couldn’t get their hands on.

Sure you could watch it online now but where’s the fun in that when you have a real copy with the static noises and written voices on screen. Some people still had some class left in them.

You hear a book hit the floor making the library echo as heads turned toward the cause of the sudden interruption of their silence.

“Shit—” You hear someone say quietly, making you roll your eyes as you place the rest of the CD’s in their rightful places before making your way toward the aisle the noise came from.

You subtly make your way toward the aisle while acting like your checking the books before taking a peek around the corner.

You see a rather short girl — shorter than the third shelf — craning her neck to look up at all the books in front of her.

Just to your luck, your mother placed a box for that genre next to the end of the shelf and you picked it up.

You make your way down the aisle and set the box toward the middle before looking up the girl who was already staring, and boy was she something.

Freckles littered across her tan skin, strands of her short hair fell from her half up half down style, her eyes — damn her eyes — they were the prettiest brown you’ve ever seen.

You smile lightly before picking up the first book and reading both the authors name and the title while trying to slow down your racing heart.

Who was this girl? Matter of fact, what was she? She wasn’t a regular, that’s for sure but you always get random people coming in so it didn’t exactly matter.

After putting away a few books, you glance up to see the girl a few feet away and on her tippy toes, reaching for a book on the fifth or sixth shelf.

You snorted quietly catching the girls attention making you quickly look away to keep yourself from laughing.

“You think this is funny?” She asks and you begin shaking in quiet laughter.

After a few moments, you compose yourself and stand shaking your head.

“No, not at all. Would you like some help?” You ask taking step toward her. She narrows her eyes. “Are you making fun of me right now?” She asks, both amusement and annoyance in her voice.

“Why would I do that? It’s poor customer service.” You say with a smile before watching her own smile grow.

“It’s poor customer service to laugh at a customer.” She mumbles before stepping back. “Please.” You walk up and grab the book.

“Look how easy that was.” She says, taking the book you held out for her. “Being six-foot-two does have its perks.” She says looking over the back of the book.

You roll your eyes but your smile only grows. Looking down at the book you nod and raise your eye brows, “that’s a good one, read it a few years back.” You say, making your way back to box of books.

“I’d hope so, for all the work I had to do to try and get it.” She mumbles making you smile and shake your head. “Anything else good?” She asks, looking down to you.

“You’re asking me if there’s anything else good in here when there’s just by the look of it thousands of books here?” You ask, smirking at her when she rubs the back of her neck.

“Yes, there is, I’ve read more than I can count. My recommendation board is up by the front desk if you want to check it out.” You say before placing crave by Tracy Wolff into the slot.

“You must have come here a lot before working then? If you’ve read so many books from here.” She asks, following hot on your trail with the book tucked between her arm. “Oh, for sure,” you say nodding. “The owners and I are real close, we were together a whole nine months before I was born.”

Her eyes widen slightly at the information. “You’re parents own this place?” She asks, gesturing to the entire book store and you nod, smiling.

It felt like you were a teenage boy, flaunting his muscles to a girl he finds attractive.

“Wow,” she says looking around once again. Book still tucked tightly into her arm as she did so. “Just wow. Your parents have taste.”

“More like their people pleasers.” You say shaking your head. The real other reason why horror is so popular in the movie section is because of their request.

Every week they check their request list and buy everything people ask for. New books, new movies, new music and games, there’s always something new. You’re surprised there’s still room, then again the place would be as big you supposed.

“They like having their customers choice their number one priority. It’s good business.” You say looking up to the girl who had a look of wonder in her eyes as she stared down at you but there was also something else. Something you couldn’t quite place.

She stares at you for another moment before speaking again, “do you.. know who I am?” She asks and your furrow your eye brows in question.

“Should I?” You ask tilting your head. She stares for another moment again, eyes scanning your face and it’s features as if searching for something.

Her smile then grows, as she shakes her head. “You shouldn’t, or rather shouldn’t have to. It’s just a surprise.” She says, tucking her hair behind her ear.

You knit your eye brows together in confusion.

She walks out of the aisle and you catch the light smile on her face as she does.

What the hell? You wonder to yourself as you place the last few books away.

You were pretty sure that was the last section, unless your mother put out some more stuff you didn’t notice. You’d just check out the to-do list.

Your mother and father always had one for both you and their own sake. Adding things so no one would forget.

As you made your way to check out, you see the girl walking in the general distraction as well.

“All set?” You ask, placing the box inside the others, moving past the small door attached to the low counter.

“Yep,” she says once again staring at you.

You take the book you got for her earlier along with another you recognize almost immediately. “Between shades of gray?” You ask, looking at her as if she were serious.

“Your description seemed trust worthy enough to make me interested.” You glance over to see your board clearly flipped through before nodding.

You scan both books. “Careful, it’s sad, dark and traumatic. It’s one of my favorites though.” You say looking up at her, she pauses for a moment, staring at you once again and just smiles and shakes her head.

“I think I can deal with a few of those.”

“Bartering or buying?” You ask. “Bartering,” she replies and you nod. “Good, I need to get a review on what you think.” You say with a smirk and you see a glint of something in her eyes.

“Name?” You ask and she looks at you a little confused. “We have to know whose using our books, how else do you think we send emails threatening to charge or get them back?” You snort.

“Oh, your totally right.” she says quietly before taking out her credit card.

“Jenna Ortega..” she says and you nod, typing in the name before reaching for the credit. Her grip on the card tightens at your lack of response.

You pull the card gently but her grip is to hard for you to take.

“Can I… get the card?” You ask, looking around slightly uncomfortably with the stone like stare she was giving you.

“Are you sure you don’t know who I am?” She asks letting go allowing you to swipe the card.

“Again, should I?”

You both stare at each other, both confused and entrapped by the other.

You find is strange how she thinks you know who she is or why you don’t know her.

Maybe she was some big deal somewhere off and you still have yet to hear about her.

Her name did ring a bell but you weren’t sure. Was she a person you knew from your child hood? An old friend trying to reconnect? Maybe some relative on your moms sent by the older ones to investigate if it was really you.

“Miss Ortega?” You’re both broken out of your thoughts as two large men stand behind her. “Time to go.” he says gesturing to a few people who were standing and staring in your general direction.

One grabs the bag off the counter before quickly walking towards the door.

“Looks like I gotta go,” she says, smile now suddenly shy with others watching. “Don’t worry, I’ll return your book Y/N.” She says before walking toward the door, one of the men right behind her.

“Yeah, you bet-“ you pause after the the realization hits you. “Wait, how’d you-?” You begin to ask before watching her gesture to her chest.

You knit your eyebrows together, you look down to see the name tag right under the library symbol.

She was strange.. cute.. but strange

Read next sort here!

A/N : Some parts once again rushed🧍🏽‍♀️This is just an introduction I suppose, the details will get better I tried my hardest🥲

[hoshifighting]

seungkwan as your sugar baby!

— WARNINGS: sugar mommy x sugar baby relationship, smut, degradation, getting caught, pussy eating, cock riding, gold digger!seungkwan, meanie!reader. — (Seventeen as Sugar Baby's Series)

you knew the type of boy seungkwan was from the moment he strutted into the tennis club like he owned the place. he wasn’t exactly subtle about it, either—wearing that too-crisp polo, the kind only someone trying too hard would borrow from a rich friend. joshua, maybe? you’d seen them together once, joshua all polite smiles and seungkwan soaking up the attention like a sponge. but today, seungkwan wasn’t here for polite smiles. he was here for you.

“nice serve,” he says, voice smooth as the champagne your friends are sipping in the lounge. you roll your eyes, tossing your racket onto the nearby bench. “thanks,” you say, already expecting the flirtatious tilt to his lips as he closes the distance between you.

“didn’t know tennis was your thing,” he continues, leaning against the bench, too close for it to be casual. you can see the glint of ambition in his eyes. he’s good-looking, no doubt about that, with a smile that could probably get him whatever he wants.

“isn’t my thing,” you shrug, grabbing a water bottle and taking a long sip, letting the cool liquid ease the heat from your last set. “but it is the perfect way to spend a saturday.”

“for sure,” he nods, eyes shamelessly drifting down to your hips, the pleated skirt riding just high enough to keep him interested. “mind if i join you for a drink? or maybe something stronger?”

you laugh, the sound surprising both of you. “you really think that’s all it takes?”

his grin widens, unbothered by your teasing. “i think you know exactly what you’re getting into.”

and maybe you do. you knew it the second you caught him watching you, eyes fixed on your every move, waiting for the right moment to strike. he’s playing a game, just like you are, but you’re not sure who’s winning yet.

“alright,” you say, tossing your empty bottle into the bin, turning to face him fully. “but don’t think i’ll go easy on you.”

seungkwan knew exactly what he was getting into, and fuck, he loved every second of it. the second you handed him that black card, he felt like he’d hit the jackpot. it wasn’t just about the money—though he loved that too—it was the way you looked at him, like he was a prize you’d won, and you were more than happy to show him off.

he could still remember the first time you brought him to one of those high-end boutiques, surrounded by clothes he’d only ever seen in magazines.

“this sweater’s nice,” he’d say, running his fingers over the soft fabric, his tone casual, like he wasn’t already imagining himself wrapped in it, looking every bit the part of someone who belonged in these high-end boutiques. but he wouldn’t linger. no, seungkwan knew better than to show too much interest. he’d walk away, leaving you with a knowing smile on your face as you grabbed the sweater and followed him.

“just put it on my tab,” you’d tell the cashier, watching as seungkwan pretended not to care, but you could see the satisfaction in his eyes when you handed him the bags, another small victory for him.

and when you handed him that card, with your name etched in gold, seungkwan felt a rush that went straight to his head.

he fucking lived for those piles of designer boxes, stacked high in his room. louis vuitton, chanel, dior—it was like christmas every damn day. and he couldn’t get enough of the looks he’d get when he rolled up in your mercedes, sunglasses perched just right on his nose, dressed head to toe in the finest things you could buy him. but the best part? knowing that it was all you. every bit of extravagance, every luxury he wrapped himself in, was because you wanted him to have it.

and seungkwan had his ways of paying it back.

after a long day of shopping, arms heavy with bags filled with things he didn’t even know he needed until you decided he did, you’d barely make it through the door before your hands were in his hair, yanking him down to the floor. “what are you waiting for?” you’d snap, and seungkwan would look up at you with those wide, innocent eyes that he knew drove you fucking crazy.

but it never took long for that shock to fade, for that sweet, naive smile to turn into something darker, nastier. he’d grip the hem of your tennis skirt, yanking it down your legs, not bothering with anything else. and as you pulled his hair harder, he’d bury his face between your thighs, your pussy already wet and waiting for him.

“better make it worth it,” you’d say, voice dripping with that condescending tone you knew he loved. and seungkwan would smirk against you, knowing that he’d give you everything you wanted and more.

because if there was one thing seungkwan knew how to do, it was to pay off his debts. “yes, ma’am,”

seungkwan slurped you up like he was starved, his tongue flicking against your clit with just the right pressure to make your back arch off the wall. every sound that escaped your lips was music to his ears—those moans that dripped with the same wealth that dripped from your fingertips. even in the way you cried out, you sounded fucking expensive, like every breath you took was worth more than what most people made in a year.

he hummed against your pussy, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your body, but it was more than that. it was the way your thighs trembled around his face, the way you rolled your hips, riding his tongue like you owned him—because you did.

“you’re fucking pathetic,” you hissed, your voice sharp and dripping with satisfaction as you looked down at him. “look at you, on your knees like a good little whore. all that designer shit, all those fancy cars, and you’re still just a slut for my pussy, aren’t you?”

he groaned in response, the sound needy and low, his hands gripping your thighs as he held on for dear life. he loved it when you talked down to him, when you reminded him exactly where he stood. or rather, where he kneeled.

“you’re lucky i even let you breathe the same air as me,” you continued, your tone mocking, filled with the same arrogance that made him weak in the knees. “look at you, drooling all over yourself, just for a taste of me. you should be thanking me for even letting you near this, you ungrateful little slut.”

his eyes rolled back, the sting of your words only driving him to worship you harder. he shifted on his knees, trying to find some comfort against the hard floor, but it didn’t matter. he’d kneel on broken glass if it meant keeping you satisfied.

“thank you,” he gasped, voice wrecked, his mouth still buried in you. “thank you for everything, ma’am.”

“damn right,” you muttered, grinding down on his face with renewed vigor, chasing your high with reckless abandon. “you better make me come, or all those fucking gifts are going back. understand?”

“yes, ma’am,” he whimpered, tongue working overtime as he tasted you, every word you threw at him only making him harder, hungrier.

you could see it in his eyes—the way they lit up when you handed him a new ysl bag, the pure joy that came with the luxury. but you also knew there was something else that made his heart race just as much, if not more. and that was fucking you. seungkwan was the kind of boy who thrived on being spoiled, but he was just as addicted to the way you took control, the way you’d grab him by the hair and pull him closer, making him feel like he was both your prize and your plaything.

like that time in the living room, when you were straddling his lap, riding him slow and steady, drawing out every moan, every gasp. the room was bathed in the faint glow of evening light, your bodies moving together in a rhythm that felt like it was made just for the two of you. everything was perfect—until your butler walked in.

the poor man’s eyes went wide as he realized what he’d just walked into, and he hurriedly turned to leave, face flushed with embarrassment. seungkwan’s reaction was immediate, his hands going to your hips, trying to lift you off of him, a panicked look crossing his features. “shit, let’s stop—” he started, but you weren’t having any of it.

instead, you laughed, a rich, wicked sound, and you sank down harder onto his cock, grinding against him harder. “oh no, you don’t,” you teased, loving the way his face contorted with pleasure, with mortification. “don’t act all shy now. you were just loving it a second ago.”

his eyes locked onto yours, and despite the lingering embarrassment, you saw the flicker of that same naughty smile creeping back onto his lips. because as much as he hated the idea of getting caught, he loved that you didn’t care, that you wanted him so badly you wouldn’t even pause for something as trivial as the butler.

and maybe that was the best part for him—the way you made him feel like he was worth the risk, worth the scandal. so he stopped resisting, his hands returning to your hips, guiding you as you rode him harder, faster, until the only thing he could focus on was the feeling of you around him, and the sound of your laughter echoing in his ears.

[slugmentality]

Renaissance Faire TF141 x reader

So I know of tf141 in regency and renaissance eras. But what about these guys just simply going to a good old fashioned, 21 century, Renaissance fair!!! (I did my best for gender neutral!)

TW: sexual content(mild, mdni), more just thought then actual writing. Poor editing

 800+ words

These are my first thoughts

Kyle is a nerd, full “garbs” he made more personal as he got more adult money. Majority of his(final) props are handmade but he did buy the fucking coolest custom sword that just scratched that itch. (1,500 he would have burned if he couldnt have it. Money be damned) will do a couple's “garb”, his favorite one is the high fae (gaz)/wood elf (you). His favorite solo garb is his wendigo full suit, he gets the most pictures and likes chasing/scaring people as they pass. Mostly there for the vibes and to nerd out and forget about the world for a few hours. Knows how to sew. At the end of the day, he's the best to decompress with, talking about the day and all the cool things you did together. Showering together and rubbing circulation back to any body part that might need it and then some.

Johnny is kinda easy, full kilt, but shirts come off once he gets through the gate. Has on viking war paint on his face, patchy streaks across his face. He's getting a huge viking inspired Henna tattoo on his chest, arm, shoulder? One big ass one over it all? Two people worked on it, took 45 mins, and was a little patchy in the staining, he obviously didn’t leave it alone long enough. Plays all the battle games, wins the strong man category. Braided mohawk, whether it's you or a vendor, yes. Fucking loves showing off to his pretty elf, prince/princess, or really anything you want to be. Unless you match him the most couple thing will probably be matching hair ornaments. Wants a war ax, but by year three, he gets it. He's still as horny as he is anyday, eating you out under your pretty skirt, smearing some of the paint on his face on your thighs. And with a raging boner for the majority of the day, watching you watch him, he's begging for a handjob on the way home, after winning the strong man award, he's got you in a full nelson, right in front of the full length mirror.

Johnny and his bird got Simon to go. First year he is not dressing up or buying himself anything. When his bird falls in love with the fair he's taking them to get fitting for the costume they want. Likes that everyone there is a little weird, hates how hot it is. You're going to be fanning this man like a king so he doesn't get heat stroke but get a nice shady corner at one of the shows and he finds you enjoying yourself. Year two, wore his eye paint over his eye and forehead, got a kilt from Johnny the Christmas before, black, and a thin poet shirt. Big scary dog energy and fuck does her look good. You're definitely late due to a last minute blowjob. He finds out why johnny likes kilt so much, easiest fucking access. The handiest, tugging you around more than letting you lead. Won the ax throwing. Again he's got his hand on you, if you've got a lot to your costume, hes telling you to start taking it off when you get to the car when you leave, the chemise is fine, perfect even. 

John Price goes because his partner likes going, walking in normal and walking out a changed man. He found a dragon shoulder puppet two hours in. Made a home at the hookah lounge. Fucking loves his pretty love gorgouse and happy, so its a no brainer that your his favrote part but also looks around at all the cool costumes and wants to participate with you. Is either a dragon rider or the dragon itself. Will need the most help getting ready, his makeup is slay though. Likes picking out home decor the most with you, will not admit it out loud how much he loves the dragon hoard your home is slowly becoming as each year passes. Speaking of, once you're home with all your new trinkets, he's got in bed, talking about finally having his favorite treasure back where it belongs, satisfied under him.  

They compete at the ax throwing. Simon and John are most likely to stand in line for food while you watch a show. Johnny doesn't want to be alone for that long and Kyle gets the meal and show instead of the vendors. They all fuck with the music, idk its good and they get it.

[aothotties]

Rachel and I are experiencing MAJOR Suguru brainrot so here's what we came up with. Part 2 is NSFW. Enjoy and please leave feedback or send us a message!

Warnings: Suguru is madly in love and a lil obsessive, mentions his dick like twice,

Suguru as your ex-husband

Ex-Husband Suguru Geto

Ex-Husband!Suguru who still calls you his wife to strangers, because he refuses to believe that y’all aren’t together.

Ex-Husband!Suguru who still wears his wedding ring and hasn’t taken it off since the day you two got married.

Ex-Husband!Suguru still texts you on your wedding anniversary, it’s been three years since the divorce and he still sends you flowers every Sunday.

Ex-Husband!Suguru always makes sure that you have everything you need without having to ask. He’ll send you money for groceries, makes sure you have gas in your tank. You tried declining in the past, but he would just have Satoru bring you groceries so you decided to accept the money instead. 

Ex-Husband!Suguru has breakfast delivered to your door every morning before you go to work

Ex-Husband!Suguru comes to all your family holiday events because your parents still love him even though you're not together anymore

Ex-Husband!Suguru still buys you the most expensive gifts for your birthday/Christmas/etc.

Ex-Husband!Suguru frequently stalks your socials to see if you're seeing someone new

Ex-Husband!Suguru bought the house right across the street from yours to see you everyday

Ex-Husband!Suguru rubs his dick through his pants when he sees you walk to the mailbox in those tiny shorts he used to love 

Ex-Husband!Suguru has a pair of your panties that he kept after you split stashed in his bedside drawer next to the sexy polaroid pics he took of you on your honeymoon  

Ex-Husband!Suguru feels jealous when he sees you run out the door and directly to the all black hellcat parked in front of your house.

Ex-Husband!Suguru cant deny the bulge forming in his pants when he sees the skimpy black dress you're wearing as you climb into the passenger seat

Ex-Husband!Suguru who can't stand to see you with another man so he decides to drown his thoughts in liquor 

Ex-Husband!Suguru who ends up texting you that he misses you while you’re on your date. 

Ex-Husband!Suguru jumps up quickly and runs straight to the door when he sees your “hey can you come pick me up? This guy is a complete asshole and I'm hiding in the bathroom” text. Once you send the location he speeds off, not wanting to make you suffer any longer than you already have 

Ex-Husband!Suguru gets to the restaurant in less than 15 minutes and rolls his eyes in disbelief that this man would really take you to AppleBee’s on your first date. A waste of that bomb ass outfit you had on 

Ex-Husband!Suguru drives you back home and has to hide how excited he is that this is the closest you two have been since you the divorce.

Ex-Husband!Suguru who decides to be a gentleman and walks you to your front door. “Just wanna make sure you get in safely” is the excuse he uses.

Ex-Husband!Suguru who eagerly accepts your offer to step inside for a cup of tea as a small thank you for tonight, trying his absolute best to hide the excitement on his face.

- Ari & Rachel

[sugoi-and-spice]

Chapter Twenty-Seven - Honeymoon

Summary: Tomura Shigaraki was her dad’s boss’s son. He was the creep that stole girls’ underwear and tried to grope her in his room. But it’s not like he could get her Dad fired just because she wouldn’t sleep with him, right? …right?

CW: Quirkless!AU, Explicit Smut, Dub-Con, Coercion, Blackmail, Cheating, Sexual Guilt, Humiliation, Unhealthy Relationships, Virginity Kink, Groping, Power Play, Hate to Love, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Animal Death, Slow Burn, Misogyny

Read Full Chapter on AO3

[excerpt]

The elevator in Shigaraki’s building was a fast one. Fast, but even. She could probably time down to the millisecond the pace that those floor numbers changed, they were so metronomic. The best that money could buy she was sure. Like clockwork, each floor number passed, ticking in her head more like a countdown. 

She was nervous about going to Shigaraki’s house today, if that wasn’t obvious. And truth be told, there were a lot of very legitimate reasons for her to be nervous about it. The fact that this was the first time she’d been at his place since their most recent night together. The fact that the company Christmas Party was just a few hours away and she really didn’t have enough time to be coming over here in the first place. The fact that going to his house always felt a bit like entering the lion’s den — she never knew just what was going to happen when she was there. 

Yes, these were all great reasons to be nervous, but to be honest, she wasn’t considering any of them. Her real reason was downright stupid in comparison. She was nervous because she was bringing Tomura Shigaraki a Christmas present.

And a stupid Christmas present at that.

It was a jacket. A stupid fucking jacket that she’d thought would be so great for him at the time. She assumed that he didn’t really own any nice jackets since all she’d ever seen him wear were hoodies. And she’d been so unable to get the image of him in red out of her head, that when she saw this stupidly expensive (but fantastic quality) red peacoat with the faux-fur collar at the department store, she knew she had to jump on it. 

But then two days shy of Christmas, he gave her a tour of Todai and just what had he been wearing? A fucking trench coat. Not the exact same thing, but pretty close enough.

She’d facetimed Spinner the second she got home in a panic over it.

“I think you’re in the clear. I’ve never seen anything like that in his closet.” he assured her.

“Ugh maybe there’s a reason for that though,” she agonized, “Like, maybe it’s not really his style after all…”

He shrugged, “I think it looks nice.”

“Really?” she pressed.

“Yeah, I’m sure he’ll like it.”

But she wasn’t going to take such blanket assurance lying down.

“I need you to be honest with me here, Spinner. If I’m making an idiot out of myself, I’d rather know now then on Christmas.”

Spinner sighed, looking through the camera at the jacket with more genuine scrutiny. She really wasn’t going to give up on this after all… 

“I don’t know, I think it looks fine. Maybe the fluffy part might be a bit much though?” Spinner finally relented.

“It’s removable!” she announced proudly, unclipping the first part to demonstrate this asset.

Spinner chuckled, “Well then you’re fine.”

“Are you sure? You don’t think red’s too gaudy for him?”

“He wears red shoes.”

“What about the material though? I know the really good peacoats are full wool, but I could only afford the blend. It’s still a good blend though, so it should be okay, right?”

Spinner didn’t say anything, immediately adding fuel to the flames of her worries. She turned the screen back to her so she could see that hesitant expression of his head on.

“What? What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing! Nothing’s wrong with it. It’s just,” he sighed and then offered her a sympathetic smile, “I think you’re thinking too much into this.”

“What? No way! This is the first thing I’ve ever gotten him,” she insisted, “It needs to be great!”

“Look, I just don’t want you to get your hopes up or anything.”

She cocked her head at him. He continued.

“Like, don’t think you’re setting a precedent here. Because he probably hasn’t gotten you anything,” he mumbled then, “Two of us have been friends for years, and he still only buys me shit when when he wants something.”

“Oh…”

Was that all his reservations were, for real? She almost laughed a little, relief finally settling throughout her.

“Well yeah. I assumed he wouldn’t.”

Spinner gave her a dumbfounded look, “Seriously?”

“Yeah. I know he doesn’t really think of stuff like that. I just wanted to get him something because… Well, I just wanted to. I saw this and thought he might like it,” self-consciousness started to flood her body once again, “...Do you think he’ll like it?”

Spinner smiled, happy she knew what she was getting into. Happy that Shigaraki had someone like her in his life now. Just happy for his friends.

“Yeah. I think he will.”

The elevator dinged, snapping her out of her thoughts. She made her way out of the elevator, down the hall to the single flat on this floor.

Continue on AO3

[neiptune]

dazzling haze, mysterious way

(eren x female reader)

college au; enemies to lovers

wc: 7k+

warnings: cursing, suggestive if you squint really hard

a/n: i have no excuses for this madness, please know i am embarrassed. considering writing a part 2 if you enjoy!

Things being back home for the holidays usually means:

a) indulging in your dad’s creamy homemade hot cocoa, b) having at least one christmas movie night with Christa, c) spending half of said christmas movie night repeatedly asking Christa to put her phone down (she can text her girlfriend after Juliet answers the doorbell to find Mark carrying a boombox playing a christmas carol and large cue cards), d) getting some well deserved rest after a decent finals week

Things being back home for the holidays doesn’t usually mean:

a) forgetting your favorite sweater at your dorm like a dumbass, b) finding out your dad fell prey of food poisoning, c) having to threaten to throw your brother’s nintendo switch out the window if he doesn’t stop smoking in his room, d) being so short on money you’re forced to look for babysitting jobs to roll out the slim earnings you get from working as a tutor on campus

So here you are, buried in a gigantic white puffer jacket and handmade scarf, backpack heavy with books, DVDs, craft supplies. Here you are, ringing the doorbell of one of the fanciest houses of the entire, affluent neighborhood you’ve been directed to by the woman who had called you yesterday. You sincerely hope you didn’t get off the bus too early nor too late, as this is not really a part of your hometown you’re familiar with.

You are, however, fairly familiar with the 5’12 broad chested green eyed cable knit sweater and pajama bottoms wearing figure opening the door.

“Thanks, we don’t need anything” he says, gaze flickering over your outfit, only one second spent wondering where you could possibly be hiding a vacuum cleaner.

Does he really not recognize you? Is it the scarf or is he actually that much of an idiot?

“Does Gabi live here?” you ask, unimpressed.

His eyebrows raise in interest.

“She isn’t old enough to buy anything”

“Eren, I’m here to babysit” it feels so weird to say his name out loud to someone that isn't Mikasa or Christa. It’s weird to call him by his name while he’s there to actually hear it.

“Do I know you?” his gaze narrows, gears in his head working exceptionally hard to try and remember a face that simply isn’t familiar enough for him to pinpoint.

You sigh.

“Isn’t your mom here? She asked me to come today and has already paid in advance. I can leave but—”

He finally opens the door fully, a gust of wind makes him shiver and it finally dawns on him that it’d probably be rude to let you freeze on his doorstep.

“Come in, I’ll call her” he moves to the side and you accept the invitation with relief, hands ice cold even if buried inside your pockets.

The house is warm, smells nice and you can hear that the tv is on in the living room. You stay by the door, watch as he heads to what you can only guess is the kitchen and comes out shortly after, phone squeezed between his cheek and shoulder as he removes the hair band sitting around his wrist with his teeth.

“Hey mom” you do your best not to stare as he ties his hair back and the sweater rises up slightly, revealing part of an annoyingly toned stomach “yeah, ‘m fine. Someone’s here, she says it’s to babysit Gabi?”

However, you are staring. Which explains why you slightly jump when his gaze is suddenly on you again as he hums, listening to whatever explanation his mom is giving him.

“Ah, right. She says you already paid?”

“I can leave and send the money back” you take a small step forward but Eren motions you to keep quiet with a raise of his pointer finger.

“Okay, I got it. Yes, I’ll tell her. Thanks, you too, tell dad I said hi” he smiles softly before ending the call and shoving the phone in his pocket.

“It’s honestly my fault, I came back one day earlier than expected. She’s embarrassed and so sorry and will call you later to apologize”

“It’s really no problem, I’ll just send the payment back” you’re already with one hand on the door handle, hoping to god the next bus will come within an hour, when his fingers delicately close around your wrist.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You can stay”

“There’s no need, just take the money and I’ll be on my way”

Eren suddenly furrows his brows for a second, then his hand reaches over to your scarf and gently pulls it down enough to reveal the entirety of your nose and mouth.

“Ah, you’re the tutor girl. Thought I recognized that polemic tone” and now you finally find him more familiar as well, with that snarky smirk and teasing gaze.

“I wouldn’t need to be polemic if you actually cooperated for once in your life”

He brings both hands to his chest, a fake grimace distorting his features.

“Ouch. Still can’t believe Armin describes you as pleasant to be around”

You click your tongue in annoyance.

“Likewise. I’ll send the money back when I get home” you grumble, turning around to open the door once again. It sucks, cause you need it and your house is half an hour away and it’s 28.4 °F outside, but it’s the right thing to do.

“Hey, listen” Eren doesn’t grab your wrist a second time, his hand reaches the door handle instead. In an attempt to keep it shut, he’s basically hovering above you, an invasion of your personal space so sudden you barely have the time to register that he smells sickeningly nice. Way better than you have anticipated, given that he usually looks like someone who showers once a month and even then refuses to wash his legs cause water and soap rinse down on them anyway.

“She has homework, some kind of project to do. I’m too tired to deal with it, just do the job so you can keep the money and I can keep watching house of the dragon”

“Who is that? ” a high pitched voice asks, making you jump. Eren’s infamous smirk appears once again as he leans forward even more to whisper a good luck though, she’s a pain in the ass right to the shell of your ear. The shudder is a perfectly normal, balanced reaction that you hope to fuck he doesn’t notice.

“She’s your new mom, Gab! Mine finally decided I’m the only one worth keeping around, so she’s given you up for adoption, again” he finally pulls back and winks at his sister, who returns him an unimpressed look.

“Hi, Gabi, it’s so nice to meet you. I’m just gonna be here for a few hours to keep you company” you take off your scarf and attempt a smile. The petite, young girl staring back at you seems offended.

“I don’t need a babysitter, I’m twelve”

God, she really is his sister. The medium length black hair half tied above her head with large strands framing each side of a very skeptical face is the same as his, only darker.

“Have fun” Eren grins, patting your shoulder once before disappearing into the living room once again.

You clear your throat and kneel down to place your backpack on the floor, unzipping your jacket in an effort to stop sweating. What do they have in the house, radiators buried in the damn walls? 

“I’m not here to babysit” you smile again “I won’t even bother you if you don’t want me to. Just thought I could give you a hand to finish whatever schoolwork you may have, so you can enjoy the rest of the holidays doing whatever you like”

Gabi weighs her options, studying you for a few moments. She knows she’s gonna have to do her homework anyway, sooner or later, so if this stranger suddenly appearing at her house is going to be there regardless, she might as well be of use.

“Whaddya have in there?” she suspiciously eyes your backpack and you zip it open to give her free peeking access. Gabi kneels on the carpet as well, snooping around the content of the indigo eastpak. “These movies are lame” she grumbles, holding one of the DVDs in between her pointer and middle finger.

You fake a gasp.

“Hey! I’ll have you know that Balto is an all time classic” you grumble back, taking the DVD back. Gabi fights the smile already tugging at her lips. She usually likes adults who talk to her as if she’s one of them, and you seem kinda fun. But it’s too early to let you know.

“What’s the crafting stuff for? I’m not three” she bites again, standing up with her arms crossed. You shrug.

“Those are for me, in case I get bored. I create killer notebooks from scratch, sometimes a pinwheel or two if I feel inspired enough” you casually wink, finally taking off your jacket and hanging it by the door, over your scarf.

“So, I guess, if you don’t want my help I may as well go craft myself something” you dramatically sigh, throwing your backpack over one shoulder and starting to march towards the living room.

“Actually, I kinda have a project for school” she mumbles under her breath, still loud enough for you to hear.

“Oh?” you turn around, brows raised.

“I have to make a snow globe and associate a story with it”

“D’you think I could help with that?”

She casually scratches her nose, shifting her weight from one leg to the other.

“Okay”

“How did you even manage to fit all that in one backpack?” Gabi eyes the materials scattered on the kitchen table, appalled. There’s paint, fake snow, fishing line, brushes, some small wooden decorations, ribbons, a glue gun.

“I have my ways” you chuckle “do you have everything we need?”

“I guess” she sounds skeptical, your favorite emotion to work with.

“Great! Let’s wash the container first, use warm soapy water and scrub well”

“Aren’t you supposed to do that?”

“Nope” you pop the p “you’re the one in charge, remember?”

She snorts but heads to the sink anyway, to do as instructed. You wait at the table, foot tapping lightly on the polished parquet floor. When she comes back and sits next to you, you can tell that she’s holding back some curiosity about how the whole thing is going to turn out.

“Wanna pick the decorations we’re going to use?” you smile, pushing the small wooden figures towards her “I have stars, trees, a truck, a bear, I think that’s a reindeer and, well, a slightly crooked snowman”

Gabi takes the decorations in her hands one by one, carefully inspecting each of them, pensive. The crests forming on her forehead as she focuses remind you of the exact same ones Eren gets when trying to understand how to solve a problem sheet.

“Let’s use the stars, the trees and the crooked snowman. We could give him a nice story”

“Sounds good to me. Wanna do the honors?” you ask, handing her a brush.

“I get to paint them?” her voice comes out slightly squeaky, coated with genuine excitement and, as you nod, she finally rewards you with a big, warm smile.

With your chin resting in the palm of your hand, you fondly watch as she focuses on making the stars, the trees and the snowman come alive with gentle strokes of color. She’s pretty talented and gets into it soon, asking for your opinion from time to time. As soon as she’s finished with the stars, you cut two pieces of fishing line and glue the stars onto one end. Then you take the other end and glue it to the inside of the lid, letting the stars dangle downward. This earns you a wow, you’re actually good at this stuff.

Time passes comfortably as you continue to work on the little project. You help Gabi glue the red ribbon around the (now painted green) lid, adding some twine to keep it in place. She fills the inside of the container with the fake snow and insists on getting some pink glitter from her room to give the snow more character. Lastly, she carefully glues down the decorations in the container, places the lid on top and snaps it closed.

When Eren steps into the kitchen, almost two hours later, he briefly stops to take in the view of you two bent over the messiest table he’s ever seen, paper sheets and colored pencils scattered everywhere as you confabulate in soft whispers occasionally interrupted by genuine giggles. He doesn’t remember seeing his little sister giggle with a stranger, like, ever.

“What’re you doing?” he inquires, finally bringing himself to interrupt the magical exchange he’s witnessing. You both look up as he approaches the table and Gabi proudly indicates your work of art.

“We made a snow globe!” she announces.

“Did you, now?” Eren fails to hold back a smile as he takes a look, carefully twisting the container in his hands.

“And we’re giving the snowman a story” Gabi grins, handing him one of the sheets on which she has drawn a scene from the tale you’re both trying to come up with.

His gaze flickers on you, amused, as if waiting for you to add something.

“His name’s Holly” your smile is uncharacteristically sheepish as you take back the page from his hands, accidentally grazing his fingers.

“Holly Berry” Gabi clarifies, which causes another sudden fit of laughter Eren can’t help but feel dragged into. He doesn’t really understand why or how he ends up sitting at the table as well, examining each drawing and handwritten paragraph you have produced. He can’t pinpoint the exact moment he starts coming up with ideas for the plot himself, suggesting that Holly Berry was actually a human raised in a village of snowmen for so long he eventually turned into one, although slightly imperfect, thus not always treated kindly by his fellow villagers. Eren Yeager actually takes a pencil in his hand and starts sketching drawings of gingerbread houses, candy cane forests and lakes of ribbon candies. He gives Holly Berry a human face and is offended by the way you steal the pencil from in between his fingers, mumbling that those features resemble more a potato than a human being. And yet he isn’t offended for long, because you reach across the table to fix the sketch with decisive and unforgiving strokes, but he can smell your shampoo and feel the warmth radiating from your face on his, so he has to lean forward just a tiny bit more.

“It does look better like this”, he concedes. The slight gruffness punctuating his words makes you look up and pull back to your chair immediately, in what definitely isn’t a suave motion. You know how attractive he is, because you’re not blind nor an idiot, although you’ve never been this close to him. He appears to reach a whole new level of attractiveness when his features are relaxed, cheeks slightly dusted with pink, eyes focused on whatever his skilled hands are tracing on a page. What makes it worse, is that he clearly knows. Which is not a bad thing per se, but just adds perfectly to that asshole attitude of his.

You know Eren Yeager because he’s like a celebrity. Best player of the Trost University men’s basketball team, decent grades, a party thrower that usually spends said parties sitting in a corner making out with hot girls, part of a large, loud group of friends, doesn’t smile much in public, usually dresses in black. You’ve seen him around campus for so long and yet only got to talk to him once, because of Armin, who works as a tutor as well. One afternoon, Eren had suddenly decided to barge in your friendly study session, annoyingly talking over and over and over again about trivial matters, not even acknowleding your presence until you asked him if he was aware of the interruption he was causing.

“Sorry, you are?”

“This is y/n, we tutor students together”, Armin cleared his throat, uncomfortable, apologetic gaze finding your annoyed one.

Eren had barely spared you a glance and a slight nod.

“’Kay, well, can’t you leave early today? Jean’s being a massive pain in my ass about tonight’s party and-”

“He can’t leave early, we’re busy”, you cut him off impatiently, pencil drumming on the textbook page opened in front of you.

He looked at you like he couldn’t believe you were still there.

“Listen, this kinda doesn’t concern you so can you give us a sec?”

Armin sighed as you put down the pencil in disbelief.

“No, I can’t give you a sec. I’m waiting for you to leave so we can resume a work that kinda doesn’t concern you”

With his eyebrow muscle contracting involuntarily in a twitch, Eren suddenly slammed his backpack onto the table, pulled out two thick textbooks, a notebook, one pencil, and stared at you with a challenging look in his sage gaze.

“It does now. I need help with this assignment”

Armin rolled his eyes as you pursed your lips, incredulous at such nerve.

“D’you think this is some sort of game?”

“Nah, a game would require you to remove that stick up your ass”

“Eren!”, Armin elbowed him in the arm, cheeks burning from an embarrassment that shouldn’t have been his.

So, in both your mind and conversations with friends, he became asshole, drunk on self-confidence, narcissistic Eren Yeager. Someone should’ve told him that being hot doesn’t give you a free card to also be a cocky fucker, so you simply won’t allow to whatever magic he works on everyone else to affect you as well. Even if his smile is warm as he jokingly throws a crumpled up piece of paper to his little sister, even if that dishevelled bun gives him a laid back look you can’t help but feel drawn to because it’s real, void of his usual, arrogant nonchalance.

“I’m kinda hungry” Gabi says after a while.

Eren glances at the clock hanging over the counter.

“Well, dad’s conference’s gonna last at least two more hours. Whatcha feel like eating? Grilled cheese?”

Her nose scrunches up in a disgusted but cute grimace.

“I’d like real food”

“Didn’t know bread and cheese were considered abstract food”

You can’t help but chuckle at the exchange and, as they both direct their gazes at you, an idea pops in your head.

“I could make noodles?”

Gabi perks up noticeably.

“Sure, we should have some instant noodles somewhere”, Eren gets up and walks towards the stove to start checking in drawers and cupboards. You get up as well, gently pushing him aside to grab a cutting board and carefully select what you need from the spices and sauces shelf: curry, cumin, white pepper, soy sauce. He looks at you, appalled, which makes you laugh again.

“I mean, I can make them from scratch if you don’t mind me messin' up your kitchen a bit. It’s healthier” you suggest with a shrug.

“Yes please!” Gabi cheers as her brother rolls his eyes at the enthusiasm. How on fuck did you manage to make her warm up to you that much in such a short time?

“I feel like you don’t get paid enough for this” he mumbles, to which you scoff.

“Don’t be ridiculous, it’s nothing. Gabi, why don’t you keep working in the living room? I’ll have to set the table” you turn around to glance at her and she gets up right away, diligently collecting everything she needs in her little arms. Eren waits until she’s out of the room to lean on the counter, arms crossed as he follows your every movement around the kitchen.

“Can you stop staring?” you ask, focused on emptying a generous amount of sesame oil in a non-stick frying pan.

“Why, do I make you nervous?”

“If you’re asking whether your presence is bothersome, the answer’s yes”

An amused smile tugs at his lips as he watches you cut a red onion into thin wedges and then add them to the pan while softly humming.

“Didn’t know we’re from the same town” Eren finds it only slightly annoying that you’re being such a sealed box to him. He’s seen the warmth you have so effortlessly unleashed on his sister and can now find it less astonishing, the fact that his best friend likes spending time with you.

You snort as you keep cutting other ingredients: mangetout, some baby park choi, three spring onions, baby corn. You’re good at it, even if you’re so fast his eyes can’t help but nervously flicker from your face to your fingers, tense at the idea that you migth cut off one of your digits. In his kitchen.

“Can you even remember my name?” the question is dripping with sarcasm but your hands are forced to come to a halt when he mutters it without hesitation. He finds pleasure in proving you wrong, in witnessing the way your shoulders had slightly jumped up in surprise. And you feel brain stuck on how his lips must’ve wrapped around your name, making it sound so much better than what you’re used to. It’s just a name and he’s just a guy, what kinda freaky black magic is he working?

“My sister likes you” as much as it’s fun to tease, he finds he enjoys seeing you at ease, relaxed enough to spend an entire afternoon giggling with a twelve year old and actually enjoying it. It works, because you instantly offer a gentle smile as you crush a large garlic clove with the pressure of your palm on the knife you’ve been using.

“I like her, too. It’s scary how clever she is”

“Runs in the family”

To his surpise, you can’t help but let out an airy laugh. It’s authentic, definitely not coated with snark, and he likes it. How many more times could he make you laugh like that again, he wonders?

“Can you pass me some udon noodles?” you ask after a few minutes of comfortable silence. By now everything you’re frying in that pan looks and smells delicious, the curry powder and soy sauce have given all ingredients a golden brown appearence that makes his stomach rumble. As you add some previously heated water to the pan, you can hear Eren opening drawer after drawer, until the distinct sound of plastic being ripped open makes you think he’s found what he’s looking for. You don’t have the time to turn around and reach out to grab the pack of noodles from his hand because he’s already right behind you, so close his chest actually presses to your back for a second as he reaches over to pour the noodles in the pan himself, his other hand casually gripping the counter inches away from your hip. The proximity is unexpected, shocking and pleasantly warm, so you swallow and clench the handle of the wooden spoon you’re using to stir the ingredients.

“Set the table, please” the strangled way words come out makes it sound as if you’re begging, which would usually entertain him but for some reason he can’t bring himself to find it funny, the way you’re luring him in. In fact, the whole situation is so far from being funny, he has to force his body to move away from yours and towards the cabinet where his mom keeps the plates, because what would become of him if you sensed he was on the verge of getting fucking hard from the domesticity of it all? For someone he’s never even actually talked to, no less. What kinda fucked up witchcraft were you practicing? And what on earth did you even use to wash your hair?

It’s soft, the way you call Gabi once the food is ready and it’s playful, the way you urge her to turn around and go wash her hands first, as she dramatically sighs but complies nevertheless. Against all odds where odds = vegetables, she ends up devouring two servings of what, he has to admit, is the best yaki udon he’s ever had. You’re barely picking at your small portion, too busy making sure Gabi eats all she wants.

By the end of a dinner mostly spent coming up with more story options for Holly Berry and giving patient answers to the hundreds questions Gabi has directed your way (Eren now knows your favorite color is turquoise, your younger brother’s name, what you’re going to give Christa as a christmas gift, when your birthday is, which exam took you the longest to study for) he has to insist both of you leave the dishes to him and go finish Holly’s story. You protest—it’s his house and you’re being paid to work—but he simply motions Gabi to drag you away and she surely complies, her small hand closing around yours to not so gently guide you out of the kitchen.

It’s hard not to marvel at the Yeagers’ living room, fire crackling in the wreath covered white marble fireplace beneath the 80+ inch tv mounted to the wall. In the corner stands a second christmas tree (they have one by the kitchen door as well), twice as high, glistening with golden and silver decorations, red ribbons sitting on alternated branches. The big, sectional sofa is covered in what’s probably soft leather and curled up on it is a snoozing tabby cat. Gabi drags you to the right side of the gigantic room, where a bigger, more elegant table stands in front of a gorgeous library with egg-crate shelves filled with books, finely framed family pictures, candles and white Chinese vases decorated with blue patterns made of dragons, clouds, tree branches filled with tiny flowers.

Of course Gabi has made a mess of the table but you smile as you sit, closer this time, letting her fill you up with the latest details she’s come up with for the now almost ten pages long story. She asks you to produce a few more sketches as she focuses on writing the big conclusion and you abide, the snow globe you have both created sitting in your periphereal view right next to your left arm.

“Are you gonna come over again?” she asks without looking up from the snow covered village she’s coloring in.

“If I’m needed and you don’t mind, sure” you smile, not looking at her either.

“What will we do if I don’t have any other schoolwork?”

“We could bake, start a puzzle, come up with another story to fill one of my killer notebooks in. Whatever you’d like”

This time she does look up to meet your gaze and you’re surprised to see the blush blossoming on her cheeks.

“Next time I could show you my room” she suggests while twisting an orange colored pencil in her hand.

“I’d love that” you smile again and she relaxes on the chair, acknowledging your reply with a slight nod.

Fifteen minutes later, you’re done. The story is complete (Holly eventually turns back into a human but decides not to leave the village he grew up in, to protect his friends and make sure his family of snowmen never melts) and the drawings are a wonderful addition to a heartwarming tale you’re sure her teacher is going to appreciate. You get up and help her tidy up the mess scattered across the table. As paper sheets are neatly piled, glitter pens are reunited with their caps as colored pencils with their box and the table is cleared of colorful shavings, Eren returns from the kitchen with hands buried in the pockets of his pajama bottoms and a fond smile tugging at his lips.

“So? How does Holly’s story end?” he asks, not once looking away from you.

“You’ll have to read it to find out” is the playful reply he gets and Eren crosses his heart that he will, in fact, read Holly Berry’s story. It’s only fair.

“I have to go now” you smile down at Gabi “I’ve had so much fun today, thank you for trusting me with your project”

She opens her mouth in a disappointed expression, hand reaching up to grab your sleeve and lightly pull.

“But we still have to watch that lame movie of yours!” she protests, outraged.

“Hey, I have already asked you to respect Balto” you jokingly reproach her “we’ll watch it next time, promise”

“Please, I want to watch it tonight! I won’t call it lame again!”

“Gabi, it’s really late—”

“Can I bribe you with hot cocoa?” Eren’s voice is softer than expected, which causes you to look at him, startled. Why isn’t he beaming at the idea of you finally leaving?

“With marshmallows” Gabi adds, tugging at your sleeve once again.

“Unless you’re so sick of my little sister you’re anxious to leave as soon as you can”

Low fucking blow.

“So long as I don’t miss the last bus home” you sigh, having barely the time to spare his smirk a glare before Gabi drags you all the way to the couch and promptly runs to the kitchen to get your backpack right after you fall on the soft fabric, waking the cat up. It’s not diffident as you might expect and after carefully sniffing the two fingers you politely offer as a personal introduction, it simply hops on your lap to curl up once again. A soft but demanding meow seems to ask for head scratches and, obviously, there’s nothing left to do but to comply.

“Are you plannin’ on winnin’ over every single Yeager family member?”

You don’t look at him, a weak attempt of playing your uneasiness off as indifference. But if there’s one thing you can’t guess about Eren Yeager, is that he’s in no rush, ever. Contrary to popular belief, he likes taking his time.

He’s not sure what it is about you, a stranger who’s barged in unannounced (well, to him, anyway) only to so effortlessly light up each room they’ve walked into. Someone capable of earning Gabi’s affection in such a short amount of time is bound to intrigue him at the very least, it’s normal, nothing unusual there. Right?

So what could be bothering him so much, he wonders while stirring cocoa powder, sugar, milk and salt in a saucepan. You haven’t been hostile, well, you’ve tried, but you were just unable to keep the facade up. You’ve laughed and smiled and joked and he feels this weird sting in the back of his throat just thinking about how nice of a person you must be on the daily, probably as good as the scent you carry around, and Eren has never wanted something as much as he now wants the book Christa is about to get as a christmas gift.

His hands are certainly big enough to comfortably balance tre mugs to bring to the couch with no risk of spilling but you’re so quick to turn around and reach over to get one, a soft I got it muttered with urgency as you pass the mug to Gabi and extend your hand to grab yours next. It’s probably for the best that his younger sister sits between the two of you and it makes him smile how invested she already is in a movie she didn’t even want to watch in the first place. The smile is still there when you both turn to look at him and laugh, Gabi pointing to his lips as he rolls his eyes and licks them clean of any whipped cream remains.

Gabi’s commentary slowly decreases in frequency and after ten minutes of silence, right as Balto and the sled team finally make it back to Nome, you feel a sudden, light weight on your shoulder. As you carefully take the empty mug out of her hands and place it on the coffee table, next to yours, you whisper an almost inaudible Eren.

“Should’ve guessed” the remark is gentle and there’s fondness in his gaze as he gets up to slowly pick his sister up, her arms finding their way around his neck as he balances her against his shoulder with a small hop.

“Be right back”  he whispers and you hum, briefly allowing your gaze to follow him as he exits the room, headed to the stairs. You get up as well, collect the emptied mugs and take them to the kitchen. Even if it’s late, so late you’ll probably have to find a cab and spend a fortune to reach your house, the least you can do is wash them and put them away. It’s been a long day but you’re not tired, quite the opposite actually. For whatever reason, you feel so on edge all you know is it’s time to leave that weird house, filled with a weird warmth that barely allows you to catch your breath, and get back to the comfort of your bed with its ice blue duvet and soft pillows.

“You’re missing the movie” the weird warmth carrier himself speaks, arms crossed, leaning into the door frame of the room as you dry your hands on your jeans.

“It’s for the best, I always cry at the end” you let out a faint chuckle and he mirrors it with a smile. He’s changed clothes and is now wearing a pair of washed out jeans and a v-neck shirt that has your gaze inevitably flicker to part of his inner forearm tattoo, one you can’t completely see because of how he’s standing. Does he also have one on his collarbone or are you seeing things?

“Before or after Rosy stops by the memorial in Central Park to thank Balto?”

“You’ve watched it! ” it’s hard to suppress the surprised smile immediately stretching your lips, the excitement in your voice. Damn it.

“And cried” he shrugs and you scoff as you walk past him to get your jacket from the coat rack by the front door.

“I’ll believe it when I see it” you put it on and pull the zipper, feeling some sort of discomfort on your back as you reach to grab your scarf too.

He’s in front of you in the blink of an eye, his hands casually slipping past and under the collar of your puffer jacket, fingers warm against your skin, nails only slightly grazing your neck as he fiddles around to pull out the hood of your sweatshirt. His fingers linger by your now feverish skin a few more seconds, definitely more than they should for someone who merely wanted to be of assistance.

Eren’s literally on the verge of asking you to stay. It doesn’t make sense, it’s ridiculous and lowkey pathetic, but he’s oh so bothered by the idea of losing whatever sudden, fragile wire you had managed to tie in the course of one afternoon. He wonders if you feel it, the way he’s so eerily drawn to you. And it’s not just because he hasn’t been laid in weeks (lost a bet to Connie and is now forced to keep it in his pants for a month), it’s not because he likes a challenge nor because he knows he’s been an asshole. You just feel so authentic. Unexpected.

As you let out a quivering breath, green eyes silently asking yours something you absolutely cannot pinpoint, the front door unlocks and your neck is left cold once again.

Eren’s parents come inside, his mom is a little taken aback at first but then puts the pieces together and begins to profusely apologize for both not having warned you that her son was back early and the fact that it’s so late you’ve probably already missed the last bus home.

“Please don’t worry about it, I had the best time with Gabi” you smile shyly, palms raised in an attempt to quell the string of embarrassed apologies threatening to submerge you. Carla looks at her son for some sort of reassurance, brows still distressingly furrowed.

Eren hums from behind you.

“Can’t remember the last time she had so much fun. She’s already asleep”

They both smile and Grisha gives you a soft nod while taking off his coat.

“Thank you. We know she’s not the easiest to deal with”

“Took her ten minutes to win her over” Eren speaks again, he feels closer this time but you don’t dare turn around. Carla puts both her hands on your shoulders and squeezes lightly.

“Please accept an extra for the trouble”

“There’s been no trouble Mrs. Yeager, I promise” you attempt a reassuring smile and she sighs, turning to look at her husband with a troubled look in her big eyes.

“Let us call you a cab at least” phone is already in his hand as he gently pushes back the thin framed glasses on his nose.

“No need dad, I’ll drop her off”

This time you do turn around, mouth open on the verge of objection, but he’s already put a jacket on and has your backpack in his hand.

“Good idea. Take my car” Grisha takes the keys out of the pocket of his now hung coat and casually throws them at his son.

“You really don’t need to” you do your best to sound polite but Eren can see the daggers you’re shooting him and simply smirks, eyes rolling by default.

“Always so polemic” he mutters under his breath as his dad opens the front door once again and there’s really nothing left to do but to sigh into your scarf, repeat ten more times or so that you had a wonderful time with Gabi and you’d be happy to be back whenever they’d need you to and awkwardly return the hug Carla decides to abruptly give you on your way out.

You climb onto the passenger seat of the black mercedes-benz waiting by the end of the driveway and you exhale with relief as your butt comes in contact with the heated leather of the seat.

“I meant it, y’know. I live half an hour away” you mutter while fiddling to fasten your seatbelt. Eren glances at the rear window as he skillfully turns the steering wheel, one hand closing on the gear knob to move the lever gently.

“D’you always protest against everything?” the question is friendly as he releases the clutch pedal and presses on the accelerator. The engine purrs pleasantly underneath you.

“If needed” you shrug, determined to focus on the houses and gardens you’re driving by at a sustained speed. It’s dark enough for you can spot glistening trees by windows and sparkly christmas decorations in yards. You briefly wonder if your dad’s feeling better, good enough to have had a few spoons of the soup you’ve left him.

“You forgot the movie at mine” Eren says, with studied casualness. It’s the perfect excuse to ask you to come over again, or to bring it back himself. Hell, he will hand it to you in the middle of any class if he has to.

“Let it be my christmas gift to Gabi. She never got to see how it ends”

His hand tightens around the steering wheel.

“How’re you so good with kids?”

Finally, you turn to peer at him, head pressed against the warm leather seat. It’s kinda annoying, how he’s wearing a jacket, because you still can’t find out what his tattoo looks like. However, you do take notice of how pretty his nose is, of the shape of his jawline and of how the intermittent, orangy light of street lamps shines on the darkness of his hair, eyebrows, eyelashes. And who even has cheekbones like that?

When his gaze flickers to you with a soft yet amused, questioning hum, you remember he’d asked you a question.

“I used to take care of my brother when dad was at work” you clear your throat, directing your attention to the road in front of you once again “and I like spending time with ‘em. It’s a nice break from adulthood”

He hums again but this time you don’t dare look at him.

“So you’re good with kids, school, great at drawing and cooking. Is there something you’re bad at?”

“So many things” you softly chuckle “besides, you’re good with kids and at drawing too”

“How d’you know? That I’m good with kids”

“Gabi told me you’re the best brother in the world. But you haven’t heard it from me”

“Not really a secret, I already knew that” he sounds cocky but you can guess from his tone that he's smiling. All day long he’s looked at his sister with a fondness impossible to conceal, the kind that stems from pure, raw affection. The kind that soothed you, because how to not be happy before the evidence of Gabi having an older brother that loves her so much? It reminded you of how you used to be with your brother, the way he’d scoff and tell your dad never to leave him with you all day again, only to slide onto the mattress beside you in the middle of the night.

“I wish I still had a little brother to take care of” you find yourself mumbling.

Eren glances at you, to his annoyance you’re still facing the other way.

“How old is he?”

“Old enough to smoke in his room but still dumb enough to think I can’t smell it” you snort and he laughs a genuine laugh. The car stops at a red light, even though the streets are empty. It’s good to know that he drives responsibly, or maybe it’s just because it’s his dad’s car, who knows.

“I’ll have to teach him my ways, he’ll never get caught again” he’s half joking but you pull a face, rolling your eyes.

“You would” it’s inevitable, turning your head to look at him again. It’s also a big ass mistake, because who in hell looks that attractive underneath a basic, red traffic light?

“What’s that supposed to mean?” his pitch is amused but the way he’s staring at you almost, almost makes you wince. Okay so, eyes? Dangerous. Note taken. You focus on the bridge of his nose instead.

“You seem like the type of person to do that. Get away with things”

Eren Yeager isn’t one to get insecure. In fact, he doesn’t even remember the last time he has felt uncertainty, or self-doubt. And now he ever so slightly shuffles in his seat, suddenly self-conscious and preoccupied with what you think of him. Not concerned with the superficial thoughts you might have about his cocky attitude or vanity, he’s worried about what you might think of him as a person. How bad does your opinion actually get?

“And you don’t like that” he states, with studied but careful measure. You frown.

“Well, duh. You just volunteered to cover for my brother”

He lets out a puff of air from his nose, both relieved and annoyed at your humor. Guess he’ll have to add deflecting to the list of things you’re good at.

“What did you get him for christmas?” he asks as his eyes are on the road again, the traffic light turning green. Safe from his piercing gaze, you don’t look away yet.

“The new pokemon legends game so he can say I’m the best sister in the world and forget about it ten minutes later” Eren’s smile mirrors yours by default as his grip on the steering wheel relaxes.

“What’s Gabi going to get?”

“A portable speaker, so she can blast Taylor Swift for the whole neighborhood to hear”

“Excellent music taste” you grin and he rolls his eyes with fake exhaustion.

The rest of the trip is comfortably quiet and so peaceful you struggle to keep your eyes open. When the car stops right before your house and you reach across the backseat to grab your backpack, there’s a weird gloom churning in the pit of your stomach. You clear your throat as you unlock the door, one leg already out of the vehicle.

“Thank you” your tone is soft as you glance at him one last time. Eren nods, hands now awkwardly resting on his knees.

You step out of the car and close the door as delicately as possible.

Things being back home for the holidays usually means:

a)indulging in your dad’s creamy homemade hot cocoa, b) having at least one christmas movie night with Christa, c) hugging your brother until he pinches your hip because he can’t breathe from how tight you're squeezing him, d) cooking and eating and napping on repeat

Things being back home for the holidays doesn’t usually mean:

a) forgetting your favorite sweater at your dorm like a dumbass, b) finding out your dad fell prey of food poisoning, c) acknowledging that your favorite blanket is nowhere to be found, d) having Eren Yeager call you by your name right after you step out of his car, only to peer at you with staggering eyes and ask

“What are you doing on new year’s eve?”

part 2

[lilacmingi]

GRINCH AU

My works are 14+ ONLY. If you’re under 14 DO NOT interact with me or any of my works

Pairing: Grinch!Jongho x Martha May Whovier!fem reader

Word count: 2,428

Note: I was rereading this one and I forgot how much I loved it 😭 I took a different route and put Y/n in Martha May Whovier’s place while also putting my own twist on the story and adding my own scenes. Christmas is in 3 days so thank you all for your love and support for the Christmas imagines series! I’ve loved reading your reblogs and comments! I hope you all enjoy this one and have a Merry Christmas!! 💚❤️ Reminder: This imagine is from Wattpad so there will be no continuations or extra parts

Years ago when you were still in school, you had a classmate who stood out from the rest. His name was Jongho.

His messy, green hair stuck out from the other Whos and the sour look constantly etched onto his features was one everyone talked about. He kept to himself most of the time, staying seated in the back of the classroom, not paying attention and not speaking to anyone unless spoken to first.

You felt bad for him. Part of you always thought he liked being by himself, but another part of you thought he might enjoy some company. So, one day you approached him.

"Hi." You greeted.

His uniquely-colored bright green eyes met yours.

"Hi." He returned, his tone short.

"I'm Y/n."

"I know."

"What's your name?"

You already knew his name, you'd heard it during roll call before, but you wanted him to introduce himself.

"Jongho."

"I like your hair." You complimented.

The sour look on his face fell just a bit.

"You do?"

"Yeah. Were you born like that?"

He nodded.

"That's so cool."

"It is?" He asked, bringing his hand up to touch his viridescent locks.

"Yes. I like it a lot. It's very unique."

That was the first time you'd ever seen him smile.

"Can I sit in front of you?" You asked him.

He gave a small nod in response.

After that day, you started talking to him, saying hello and asking how his day was going. You were unaware of how much Jongho appreciated that. No one had ever showed him kindness like you had. He was used to being ignored, so all this attention from you was new to him, as was the warm feeling in his chest.

Christmas approached and Jongho wanted to do something special for you. He remembered you mentioning during a recent conversation about Christmas that you liked angels. He didn't have the money to buy you one, so he did the next best thing.

He stayed up late, rummaging through his adoptive parents' kitchen, taking anything he might be able to use for his little DIY project. It took him nearly all night, but once he was finished, he knew his hard work had paid off and he couldn’t wait to see your reaction.

The next day, you walked into the school dressed in your most festive outfit. As you headed towards your classroom, someone ran up beside you, catching your attention.

"Y/n!"

You turned to see Taehyun, a fellow classmate. He always kind of got on your nerves. He was cocky and often bullied other people, especially ones who weren’t snobby and rich like he was, which you didn't like at all. Not one bit.

"What do you want?"

"I got you a present." He grinned, pulling out a necklace with huge diamonds on it.

It was ugly. However, your mom always told you to be grateful, so you thanked him.

"Put it on." He held it towards you.

"Maybe later."

"Come on."

You knew he wouldn't leave you alone, so you  gave in, holding your hair up and allowing him to clip the necklace around your neck.

You weren't aware of this, but Jongho, who was on his way to give you your gift, had seen you with Taehyun and hurriedly hid behind a nearby wall. He peeked his head around the corner, watching as Taehyun clipped a flashy necklace around your neck, the dozens of diamonds sparkling under the fluorescent lights in the hallway. He felt his heart sink as he turned his back on the painful scene and walked off.

Taehyun gave a thumbs up of approval at the necklace before heading to class. As soon as he was out of sight, you pulled the gaudy thing off, shoving it into your bag. It was the ugliest necklace you had ever seen. It looked like something an old lady would wear and it was far too big for your tiny child-sized neck.

You continued down the small hallway of the school and into your classroom, acting as if nothing had happened. When Jongho saw you walk in, he sat up straighter. He noticed you weren't wearing that ugly necklace he saw Taehyun put on you moments earlier, which made him feel a bit better.

You walked over to the seat in front of his, which you'd been sitting in for the past few weeks, placing your backpack down.

"Hi, Y/n." Jongho greeted you.

"Hi, Jongho." You smiled. “Are you excited for Christmas?"

"I am." He nodded. "I have something for you, by the way."

His tone was soft and he seemed a little nervous.

"You do? Like a present?"

He gave a short nod as he started rummaging around in his backpack. He pulled out an object and handed it to you. You glanced down at the flashy item, observing it carefully. Once you realized what it was, you gasped.

It was an angel made of what appeared to be kitchen appliances, small gems, and pieces of stained glass.

"You made this for me?" You asked, unable to believe he would go to such lengths.

Unlike when Taehyun gifted you that necklace, you didn’t have to fake your gratitude for Jongho’s heartfelt present. It was stunning and best of all, made by him.

"I did." He nodded.

"It's so beau—"

Before you could finish your sentence, Taehyun walked up, cutting you off.

"Really, freak?" He scoffed. "This is the best you can do? This is just a pile of garbage."

Before you knew what was happening, Taehyun snatched the angel from your hands and threw it on the ground.

Jongho looked down at the present he worked so hard to make that was currently in pieces on the classroom floor. Much like this now destroyed gift, his heart was shattered.

"Taehyun!" You shouted at the boy as you dropped to the floor, picking up the pieces and setting them onto your desk.

You didn't even notice Jongho rush out of the room until he was already gone and out of sight.

You turned to glare at Taehyun, mustering up all the anger you could. Without thinking twice, you grabbed the necklace he gifted you from your bag and shoved it into his hand.

"I don't want this." You told him.

That was years ago; you were probably eleven years old at the time. You never forgave Taehyun for what he did, but that didn't stop him from trying to constantly win you over.

Jongho never came back after that day. You didn't know what happened to him until about three years ago.

There were whispers in Whoville about a "scary" green-haired man that lived on Mount Crumpit, the ominous, snow-capped mountain that loomed above the town. You knew immediately that it had to be Jongho, though the Whos didn't call him that, they referred to him as The Grinch. You weren't sure why. Perhaps it was because of that sour look constantly plastered on his face. If that were the case, he hadn't changed at all.

Every night, you found yourself gazing up at the monstrous mountain, wondering what Jongho was up to and if he was doing okay.

"Nothing's stopping me from seeing him." You voiced your thoughts aloud.

You were in the midst of planning a Christmas party, though you weren't sure if anyone would show. The Mayor, aka Taehyun, was having a party the same night. You only invited two people, but Taehyun's Christmas parties were always the talk of the town, so you weren't even sure the only two friends you had would show up.

You sighed, turning your attention back to Mount Crumpit, a brilliant idea popping into your head.

The next day, you set out on your own, climbing up Mount Crumpit, a Christmas party invitation clutched in your hand.

It took an agonizingly long time for you to reach the top, and by that time, your fingers, toes, and nose were completely numb. Despite that, you approached the door that was nestled in the mountain, giving a few knocks on the weathered wood.

Nothing.

You tried again.

Still nothing. Just the sound of the frigid wind whistling as it blew past, whipping strands of your hair around.

You knocked once more, only to get the same result. You then resorted to plan B and moved closer to the door.

"Jongho?" You called out. "It's me, Y/n. I don't know if you remember me."

You paused for a moment in case he happened to hear you.

"I'm not sure if you're in there, but I'm having a Christmas party on the 25th. I'd really like it if you would come. I'd love to talk and catch up."

You paused for a moment before continuing.

"I never knew what happened to you all those years ago. I only recently found out where you've been hiding. Truth is, I miss you. I'd like to see you again."

You took the invitation and slid it underneath the door.

"I'll just leave that there." You stood up. "Goodbye, Jongho. I hope to see you soon."

You started your descent down the mountain, hoping that Jongho heard you. If not, the invite had been delivered and it's in his hands now.

Inside the mountain stood Jongho. He heard your knocking, but ignored it, thinking it was some dumb kids trying to prank him, but then he heard your voice. Your sweet voice that was always laced with kindness.

He shot up from his chair, hurriedly scurrying towards the doorway. Your voice sounded so gentle and comforting. It was nice to know you hadn't changed. He listened intently as you spoke.

"I don't know if you remember me."

What? Of course he remembered you. You were the only person who bothered to pay him any mind. The only person to show him any sort of compassion and kindness.

He wanted to speak, let you know that he was there and he was listening, but for some reason the words were stuck in his throat.

"I'm not sure if you're in there, but I'm having a Christmas party on the 25th."

His face scrunched in distaste at the mention of the obnoxiously cheerful holiday. After he ran away all those years ago, he held such bitter feelings towards Christmas. He despised it, hated it. The holiday was ruined for him. He was humiliated that day in front of you and couldn't bare to be in that classroom any longer, so he ran out. He didn't even think about how that would make you feel. Truthfully, he thought you forgot about him. Everyone else did... for a while, anyway.

Three years ago, he returned to Whoville for certain items he couldn't obtain himself and, even with a disguise, people seemed to recognize him. After that, people started harassing him. Kids—mostly teenagers, would dare each other to go up to his home and knock on his door. It was annoying and he wished people would just leave him alone.

Except maybe you, of course. Though Jongho shut himself off from everyone and had a hatred for every Who in town, he had a fondness towards you. You were the one and only exception.

"I'd really like it if you would come. I'd love to talk and catch up."

His eyes widened upon hearing that.

You wanted to catch up? As in talk? To him?

There was a strange feeling in his chest as he thought about you wanting to spend time with him. It was a feeling he hadn't felt for at least ten years.

He listened as you said your goodbyes, watching as an invitation was slid under the front door. He waited a moment before he walked over to take the invite. Even though Jongho hated Christmas, he had to admit, the invitation was pretty. Inside was the address of your home along with the date and time that the party would take place, all written in your beautiful handwriting.

His fingers unconsciously traced over the letters before turning to his dog, Max.

"What do you think?" He asked the animal. "Should I go?"

The dog barked in response.

"Yeah, but I don't have anything nice to wear."

Max barked again.

"I know I don't have to dress nice, but it's for Y/n."

The dog only stared at him.

"Fine." He huffed, throwing his arms in the air. "I'll go find something. Just stop nagging me, will ya?"

Your party was a bust so far. It was nearly time for it to start and no one had shown. Just when you were ready to give up, there was a knock on the front door, making you perk up. You hurriedly went to answer it, surprised to see who was standing on the other side.

"Jongho?"

His uniquely-colored green hair was neatly pushed back, showing off his insanely handsome features and round face. He wore black slacks, a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, and a red vest that fit his body snugly.

You were rendered speechless as you looked at him. You didn't mean to stare, but you didn't expect him to show, not only that, but he looked incredible.

You had a crush on him back in school. Part of you thought that would go away, but seeing him in front of you proved that your feelings for him hadn't gone anywhere.

His eyes stayed glued to the the ground as he fiddled with his fingers. You fought the urge to hug him, afraid it would be too much, especially after not seeing him for so many years.

"I can't believe you showed up." Your eyes drifted down to a small scruffy-looking dog sitting by Jongho's feet. "And you brought a friend?"

"This is Max." He told you, his voice quiet.

"Why don't the two of you come inside? You're just in time."

Upon entering your house, Jongho found that he was the only one there. He saw a table with four plain gingerbread houses sitting out along with icing and other candy decorations as well as a decently-sized spread of food.

"I thought you were having a party." He spoke up.

"I am. I invited a couple people and you, but they were no-shows. Probably at the mayor's party." You gestured to a gaudy invitation on your coffee table.

"Is that from..." Jongho trailed off.

"Yeah." You rolled your eyes.

Jongho couldn't hold back the sour expression on his face.

I still can't believe that jerk managed to become mayor of Whoville. He thought bitterly.

Jongho walked around, keeping his hands shoved in his pockets. He was feeling a bit overwhelmed and out of place, even though he was the only person in your house. It wasn't you—you hadn't changed at all. It was the fact that it had been so long and he hadn't really spoken to anyone since running away. He wasn't sure how to initiate a conversation, let alone what to say, so he resorted to looking around.

You began going on about what all you had planned for the party as he wandered around.

"I have food if you're hungry. Max is welcome to have some too. I also have different activities to do if you get bored. We can decorate gingerbread houses, make our own ornaments, or have a Christmas movie marathon." You listed, not knowing that Jongho's attention was elsewhere.

His eyes gazed upon the massive Christmas tree in your living room, as he looked at the glittering lights and decorations adorning the branches, but that wasn't what caught his attention. It was the angel that donned the top of the tree. His angel. The one he made for you.

"So." You clasped your hands together as you approached Jongho. "What first?"

You stopped when you saw him staring at something. Following his gaze, you realized it was the angel at the top of your tree.

"You kept it?" He asked, not taking his eyes away from it.

"I did."

"I thought it was broken."

"I fixed it."

"I can't believe it."

"That gift meant a lot to me. You ran out before I could tell you, but it's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen." You stared up at the decoration. "I love that little angel."

Jongho was about to speak, but was stopped by a sudden knocking at your front door.

"Maybe we have some company after all." You beamed, going to answer the door.

Your smile dropped immediately when you saw Taehyun standing at your doorstep.

"What are you doing here?" You asked snappily.

"You're not at my party. Didn't you get my invitation in the mail?"

"I did."

"Then what are you doing here all by your lonesome?" He inquired, tilting his head.

Jongho didn't have to see the guy's face to know who it was. He clenched his fists, making his presence known as he stalked up to the doorway to stand beside you.

"She's not alone."

Taehyun's eyebrows raised as a look of amusement colors his features.

"Oh, I see." He scoffed. "You're busy spending time entertaining this freak."

"That's enough." You snapped. "Don't you have a party to get back to?"

"I can spare a few minutes."

"There's no need. I don't want you here."

"I'm the mayor. I don't have to listen to you." He spoke, trying to push past you and force his way into your home.

Jongho stepped forward, protectively pulling you behind him as he stared down Taehyun.

"She said leave."

"I'm not afraid of you." He scoffed.

"Leave. Now. I'm not going to tell you again."

"What are you gonna do about it?" He taunted. "Go hide in your little cave again like you did all those years ago?"

To your surprise, Jongho roughly shoved Taehyun away, causing him to stumble back and fall into the snow. He landed with a grunt, glaring up at the green-haired boy beside you. At that point, Max had scampered over to the front door to see what was going on and had started growling at Taehyun.

"Don't you dare bother her again." Jongho snapped before slamming the door shut.

He then turned to you, his expression softening.

"Are you okay?"

You nodded. "Just annoyed with him. Thanks for sticking up for me like that."

"It's nothing." He shrugged.

You knew he was just being modest.

"I have to admit, I've been wanting to do that for a long time." He added, making you chuckle.

"He definitely deserved that, and more." You locked the front door, before turning back go Jongho. "Now that he's gone, we can get the party started. What do you say?"

He only nodded, seeming a bit bashful.

You put on some Christmas music and immediately began preparing hot cocoa for you and your guest. Once that was finished, you urged Jongho to participate in at least one of the activities you planned. He decided on ornament decorating.

As the two of you decorated your ornaments, you talked about what had been going on in your lives, you more than him.

"You know, the day you ran off, Taehyun got me the ugliest necklace." You cringed at the memory. "I don't even now why. I guess he was trying to win me over. That boy is relentless, always has been it seems.”

Jongho knew which necklace you were talking about, but pretended he didn't.

"Do you still have the necklace?" He asked in an almost hesitant manner.

"No." You shook your head. "I gave it back to him after he broke your gift to me. I hated it anyway. It was the ugliest and gaudiest thing I'd ever seen. It looked like something an old lady would wear."

Jongho couldn't help but smile knowing you gave the necklace back to Taehyun. Not only that, but it was clear how much you disliked Taehyun, and that gave him a confidence boost.

"Y/n, I wanted to tell you this earlier before we were interrupted, but knowing you pieced together that angel gives me this warm feeling in my chest. I'm not really used to it, but it's a good feeling. The last time I felt like this was in school when I was spending time with you."

You were surprised by this confession, his sweet words making a warm feeling of your own spread in your chest.

"You approached me that day and spoke to me. No one had ever done that."

"I just thought you needed some company."

"Deep down, I think I did." Jongho stopped to get a look at his ornament. "I think I'm done. Sorry if it looks bad. I don't usually do stuff like this."

"Let's see it." You leaned over.

Jongho's cheeks got warm at your close proximity. You didn't notice as you were too busy looking at the ornament he decorated.

He painted it green and added red swirls on it. It was simple and a little messy, but cute nonetheless.

"I like it." You smiled.

"You do?"

You nodded.

"You wanna keep it or do you wanna hang it on my tree?"

"I wanna hang it." He answered quietly.

"We can hang them together. I just finished mine." You showed your ornament to Jongho before the two of you placed them on the tree.

"Aren't you glad you did that?" You asked.

He nodded. "It was fun."

Jongho was beginning to feel himself become shy again and started having trouble looking you in the eye without getting flustered. You were so nice and so pretty.

"Y/n." He called out, keeping his eyes on the tree for a moment, trying to gather his nerves.

"Thank you for inviting me."

"I should thank you for showing up. If you weren't here, this would be the most boring party ever." You chuckled.

Jongho started to speak, but you cut him off.

"You wanna dance?"

"Oh. I... I don't really know how."

"It's easy. Follow me." You took both his hands, pulling him into the living room, Max following behind. You placed Jongho's hands on your waist before wrapping your arms around his shoulders. You couldn't help but notice the faint pink tinting his cheeks.

"So this is how you stand, then you just sway back and forth, or you can take small steps left to right and slowly go in a circle. Whatever feels right."

"I'd like to just stay in one spot."

"Alright." You smiled softly, the two of you swaying side to side.

You studied Jongho's features, taking in every perfect detail of his face, your heart thumping wildly in your chest. You only turned away for a moment, seeing that Max had made himself comfortable on the couch. You let out a chuckle before resting your head on Jongho's shoulder. He seemed a little tense at first, briefly making you worry you had overstepped, but he soon relaxed.

You weren't sure how long the two of you danced for and you didn't really care. You were just happy to be reunited with Jongho.

"Y/n." He spoke up, his tone gentle.

You hummed in response, pulling back to look him in eyes.

"I'm going to say something that I've wanted to say for a long time and you can say no. I won't be upset."

"What is it?" You inquired.

"I really like you. I have from day one."

You were too stunned to speak. You had no idea.

"Okay. I've made you uncomfortable. I'll let myself out."

"No." You spoke up, abruptly. "I like you too, even way back in school. Seeing you tonight made me realize that my feelings towards you haven't gone away at all. In fact, I think they've gotten stronger."

Jongho seemed equally surprised at your confession as you were at his.

"You're serious? This isn't a prank or anything?"

"No pranks." You shook your head.

Caught up in the moment, Jongho pulled your face towards his, catching himself just before his lips touched yours.

"It's okay." You whispered. "Go ahead."

That's all the confirmation he needed before he smashed his lips against yours, capturing them between his own in a full-fledged kiss. You were dizzy for a moment, not expecting him to go in hot and heavy—not that you were complaining.

Your hands found their way to Jongho's brightly-colored hair, running your fingers through it and feeling it's softness. A gasp left you as Jongho's hands lightly squeezed your waist before he snaked his arms around you, pulling you flush against him.

The kiss seemed to last forever yet not long enough at the same time. Jongho pulled away, looking a bit flustered. You cupped his cheeks, lovingly stroking them with your thumbs.

"I want you to stay." You blurted.

"Stay?"

"Yeah. With me. Here. I don't want you to go disappear in that cave again."

Jongho didn't have to think about it for very long. It was either live in a nasty cave and be alone, forever having conversations with his dog, or live with you in your cozy home getting to see you every day. The choice was obvious.

"Okay." He agreed.

"Really?"

He nodded. "I'll get to be with you all the time, plus I can protect you from Taehyun when he starts bothering you again."

"I like the sound of that." You grinned, leaning in to kiss him once again.

Hongjoong ❄︎ Seonghwa ❄︎ Yunho ❄︎ Yeosang ❄︎ San ❄︎ Mingi ❄︎ Wooyoung

Masterlist ᝰ — enjoyed this imagine? reblogs & comments are very much appreciated!

DO NOT steal, plagiarize, copy, repost, alter, or translate my works in any way

🏷 @h3arteyes4mingi

[sweeethinny]

daddy's girl

my father was the biggest disappointment today, and to make up for that pain, here is Harry being an incredible and kind father on an ordinary day.

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

''Daddy,'' Lily-Lu ran down the stairs, her freshly cut red hair was tied back with a white headband that Harry thought didn't suit her style, but the girl was willing to be fashionable so he just accepted, especially because he didn't think he was the most stylish person to give his opinion.

Lily-Luna was completely obsessed with these things, Harry was sometimes lost with the amount of information she knew and wanted to share with him, for example, yesterday when he took her to the hairdresser she told him that they had to go to the pharmacy so she bought a specific color of nail polish because she had seen something in a magazine about strawberry nails or something and wanted to paint her nails the same way.

Of course, Harry stopped by the pharmacy after the hairdresser, as well as the makeup and other trinkets store so she could buy a hairband and a satin cap — ''It's to protect my hair from frizz! Hair like ours daddy easily gets messy''.

''Sew for me?'' She was holding the white and blue dress that she and Ginny had bought the last time they went out together, one that Ginny insisted Lily-Luna needed because she was out of clothes to wear now that she was starting going out with friends to the mall, amusement parks, and birthday parties — which were no longer childish and parents needed to go along.

‘’How did you tear it?’’ Harry wiped his hands on a cloth, he was pruning his bonsai sitting on the balcony table, feeling the breeze of that summer that wasn’t absurdly hot — yet. He was on vacation from work and in order not to die of boredom, he decided to become a gardener, a task that only seemed simple because he needed three different books to understand which fertilizer was best for each plant and how many hours each one needed to be in the sun per day.

‘’I don’t know, I went to close the zipper and then it ripped,’’ Harry didn’t believe it, but agreed, taking the dress and then muttering an accio sewing box and then starting to sew up the small tear on the side of the dress. ‘’Daddy, will you take me?’’

‘’Where are you going?’’ Now that he was on vacation, Harry had basically become his children’s private chauffeur. Just yesterday he went out four times to take each one to a friend's house; not that he minded much, he liked driving and that was at least a reason for him to have something to do. There were parts of the city he had no idea existed.

His children had a much livelier social life than him or Ginny at that age, several of their friends lived in Muggle areas which meant James, Albus and Lily knew much more about the Muggle world than their parents.

''Kelly and I are going to have ice cream, I already told mum,'' She said, putting on the bracelet she had received for Christmas from Fleur, who seemed to love having a fashion-addicted girl to spoil. Victoire didn’t have much affection for this world, and Dominique was in a rebellious phase where she denied this whole “feminine” world. Meanwhile, Lily-Lu appreciated her cousins' lack of interest.

The bracelet had several charms that you could buy after buying the bracelet, which didn't make sense to Harry since, what's the point of buying something if it's not complete? But Lily-Lu loved it, and saved part of her allowance money and the money she received when she did something with one of her uncles to buy more charms. In less than two years, the bracelet was almost complete.

‘’Where?’’ Harry was almost finished, he found it quite satisfying and calming to sew.

''That ice cream shop near the mall, where we always go.'' She said and Harry nodded, he liked it there, it was safe, he knew the environment, and he knew that if something happened, Lily-Luna was in a neighborhood where she was not in danger.

‘’Okay, I’ll take you. Call me when you need to pick you up, I think I'll take advantage and go to the farmer's market... I need new fertilizers.'' His daughter nodded, smiling and kissing his cheek when Harry finished sewing her dress.

‘’Thank you daddy, I love you.’’ And she ran upstairs again.

[dulcewrites]

New Traditions

Pairing: Rhett Abbott x afab!reader

Summary: As the first holiday season in your new home approaches, Rhett and you start new traditions and make promises (wc: 3k)

Warnings/Fic notes: mentions of unhappy childhoods (reader and Rhett probably needed more hugs as kids). Allusions to a rich!reader. Me using decorating as smokescreen for a character study lol. Daddy issues galore. The Christmas music is very self indulgent on my part too. Allusions/mentions to 18+ content

A/N: *Mariah Carey whistle note* ITS TIMEEEEEE. Lmao hiii, I hope you all are doing well. It has been a minute since I have written for a fandom outside of hotd so please bear with me on that front. I eventually want to take request soon (for Rhett, some tgm characters, and Calvin Evans) so my inbox is always open if y’all are interested - just shoot me something. If you read anything you like please reblog, like, and or comment. Also let me know when y’all put your decorations up (if you celebrate anything). I’m a staunch first weekend of December girlie myself ❤️

Masterlist

As pathetic as it sounds out loud, Rhett had grown accustomed to having the rug pulled out from under him. He had a looming and painful history with differentiating the cards life dealt him and what he deserves; over time, they began to blur together. At a certain point, he just resigned himself to life just being sort of... eh. Reminding himself that though things could be better, they could also be much, much worse.

It would all combinate in this hazy, syrupy snapshot of moments that ran together. At least, that is what he thought till he met you.

He thinks you would not understand it if he told you - that you are one of those people that is easy to love, while people like him took work to want. Hard work. Something that would be likened to the type of manual labor a Wyoming, farm grown boy like him is used to doing day in and day out. If he dared to express it, you would give him a good-natured laugh and shake your head like you always did when he said something self-deprecating.

"What kind of women do you take me for, Abbott," followed by a playful eye roll. "The type that settles?"

Rhett supposes that was the conundrum with you. Because the statement is not wrong; nothing about you gave off the impression you would settle for anything. That could come from a life of having almost everything at your fingertips. But the questions still tickle his tongue and doubts still makes his brain hazy.

It has only compounded since the two of you moved in together.

It was you who posed the suggestion, a shy smile on your lips. Despite the skepticism and disappointment from your parents, it did not feel right for you to sell your grandmother's ranch, the one your father grew up on, after she passed. You insisted on keeping it yourself, clearly having a soft spot for the house you would visit whenever you had the chance to.

Our home, you called it.

Your baking kits in the kitchen, his horses in the stable, and various clothes in the closets. He should feel reassured by this all… and yet… he waits for the other shoe to drop. For the rug to once again be pulled out from under him. Everything is so warm and new, and he worries about the day it slips through his fingers like sand.

Words in general, and expressing this specifically, does not come easy for him. Though loving you comes as easy as breathing for him. Rhett puts all that stuffing emotions and feelings away to good use as he tries to focus on the present. The only thing that manages to keep his mind clear is keeping his hands busy. So, he tries to make up for it in any way he can. The pale wall color your grandma insisted on keeping but reminded you of a sterile hospital? Painted to something more vibrant. The light fixtures in the kitchen that you said were ‘far too phallic to enjoy a meal under’? Well, those new ones are the best money could buy.

He just finished the building that rocking chair you got for the porch when you stick your head out of the house to call him in for dinner, eyes alight with something he could not put his finger on.

Dinner was silent, too silent for you, who always could spark up a conversation with anyone. A tiny sense of dread sets in, and he can’t help but think it maybe something he did… or did not do.

“The chicken is good,” he tries to start any kind of conversation or joy behind the eyes, but all he gets is an empty smile.

The unnerving quietness carries on for a few of minutes, but you suddenly drop your fork on the plate with a clank.

“Did y'all go all out for Christmas?”

Along with the noise the fork made, the question startled Rhett. He blinks blankly utterly confused by how it went from silence to that.

“What?”

“Oh, sorry,” your lips downturn into an embarrassed frown. “I should not have assumed y’all even celebrate it. I guess I just assumed with your mom and all.”

“No, we do celebrate,” he shakes head.

“So, did you go all out? When did you guys put the decorations out?”

Rhett shifts in his seat uncomfortably. Much like everything else that comes to his family, it is never linear or easy. He doesn’t know how to explain how one year they just stopped decorating; gifts and midnight mass were seen as hassles not the usual. Everything that the holidays stood for: family, love, gratefulness, togetherness was the antithesis of them. The joy and warmth of the holidays was sucked from the house and never came back till Amy was old enough to know what Christmas was - till Rebecca and his ma teamed up one day to make a fuss about the house being cold and sterile. What they meant is that Royal was cold… and sterile.

Rhett can still remember the look of disbelief in Rebecca’s eyes when Perry didn’t back her up on the matter. It was a look Rhett had seen from when he was a teen till the last day, he saw Becca. He still gets a rotten taste in his mouth thinking about he never got to tell her how much she meant to him. But that would also mean admitting that often his biggest advocate was a woman basically forced into the family versus the people he shared actual blood with.

Slight embarrassment burns his mouth like a hot iron down his thoat.

With a tight throat, Rhett shrugs. “It changed every year,” he lies. Then shakes his head. “It wasn’t a big deal really.”

Almost as abruptly as you stopped eating, you get up from the kitchen table. He just about calls out to see if you are ok, but you come back in the dining area carrying a picture.

“When I was cleaning out the garage, I found this.”

Rhett leans over, and he can’t help the slow grin that settles on his face. At first, he didn’t recognize the faces in the picture but then he saw a familiar crooked, mischievous smile, but this time on a younger girl. A little you. Decked out in a red, poofy dress and tiny white fur shawl. Shiny black saddle shoes that gleam even in the old photo.

“My baby as a baby,” he whispers.

Rhett continues to scan the photo. Behind you was two older people, and he can only assume they are your parents. They are exactly how he thought they would be and nothing like he thought at the same time. Your mom casually glamourous in green, your dad in a suit far too done up just for family dinner with a heavy hand on your shoulder. You wear her eyes but his nose. Right behind the three of you, a heavily decorated banister and in the foreground a Christmas tree so large that Rhett thinks it has to be a safety hazard.

You do not seem as happy or in awe of the relic as him, in fact you look sick at the sight.

“That was taken before they sat me down to tell me they were getting a divorce.”

Rhett’s heart sinks a little at the as the way your mouth juts out in bitterness.

“Looking back on it, I should have known. Dad was never home, mom was detached, probably depressed. Ya know, I remember them specifically saying that nothing would change, and naive little me not only believe that but wanted it. Not realizing something was just… off. But I guess most nine-year-old’s can’t tell the difference.”

He supposed it was easier for him to paint a rosier picture of your parents, for his sake and yours. Maybe winters in Texas were better than ones he experienced, maybe life was better. He has seen pictures of house, the compound, you grew up on. But now hearing what you are saying made pity take over the normal envy.

Rhett reaches out to grab your hand, and squeezes. “M’ sorry.”

You wave your free hand nonchalantly thought the casualness does not meet your eyes fully.

“No use crying over spilt milk,” you sigh. “I just saw the picture and tried to rack my brain for the last time we were all together for the holidays. After that one, it was one year with mama, the next with dad. And I don't think we ever decorated the house together. That was my caregiver, Jodie's job. Made me curious other people’s traditions I guess."

Rhett fiddles with the rings on your fingers while chewing on the fleshy part on the inside of his cheek.

“Maybe we can make our own,” he mutters softly. “Startin’ this year.”

You look up through your lashes, eyes fluttering away from the picture that sat on the table.

“Really?”

He nods. If that is what you want, he’d do it for you. Like he would do anything for you. Your gaze goes out the window across from the table. The leaves on the trees already began to change and fall to the ground. Going from green to various shades of red, purple, and brown. The season already has changed; heat melting away as the temperature dropped and cool breeze set in.

Your spirit noticeably lightens. “Do you think we can get a real tree? Mamma always said it was too much of hassle to get a real one.”

Rhett holds up his hand and extends his pinky. “As long as there is mistletoe in the house.”

Under new light fixtures, and with the sun grazing the ground as it sets, the two of you made your first promise.

Investments are important.

Your father told you so all your life. To the giant painting he bought for the Tennessee house (the one you later realized was a Degas), the stocks he bought for you for your fifteenth birthday, or his insistence you go to his alma mater. All investments that he expected payoff for. Your father will always be the smartest businessman you know, and he still managed to be so clueless with everything else.

People are not investments. Not really, at least. Not in the way your father looked at it. You can put money and effort into something, but it is never a guarantee it will work out that way. And you can’t just leave when things do not go your way. Your poor father never seemed to understand that, and you think it broke your grandma’s heart in the process.

And maybe you are no better than him. As a child, you admittedly reaped the benefits your parents offered you, almost to a fault. They would often laugh at your ability to move on to the next thing without so much as a blink of an eye. Onto the next toy, the next piece of clothing, the next makeup item. How can you criticize behavior you gave into yourself?

“You’re a reformed brat,” Jennie, your old debutant buddy turned psychologist said over the phone. “Give yourself some grace. At least you want better yourself now.”

So, you gave yourself just that. You didn’t sell your grandma’s place for the equity or whatever bullshit your dad mentioned. You didn’t Amelia County leave though your mom offered to set you up with her in New York. And God… you’re letting your fall - fall so deeply in love with Rhett, despite the voice in your head that tells you not to.

You replay your, in your opinion, embarrassing meeting. Bursting into tears in the middle of a grocery store was not the romantic story you want to tell others. But he came up to you to say that though he only spoke to her a handful of times when she would stay in her vacation home in Wabang, he knew your grandmother was a good woman and would be missed.

A blubbery mess of grief right next to the meat aisle spiraled into decorating your grandmother's house together - your house.

With Frank Sinatra’s version of ‘Let it Snow’ playing in the background, a rush of giddiness takes over. Jodie always said you had an eye for pretty things.

"A little excited, no," Rhett eyes copious amounts of bags you brought into the house. “It’s not even December yet.”

You survey the bags and boxes laid out. So, you went slightly overboard. Like driving out of town to the nearest big city to do some more shopping. Some habits die hard.

"This is just the starter stuff," you pull reams of garland out of the bag. “Just wait till they start selling the trees. Oh! And I got ingredients to teach you how to make sugar cookies from scratch.”

Rhett is silent for a moment, and you wonder if it is too much too fast. Your mother always said that enthusiasm, especially around men, should be tempered and demure. No one likes a girl that acts like a dog with a bone, sweetheart.

“Do.. do you think we can invite Amy over for the cookies thing,” his cobalt eyes soften at the mention of his niece. “I think she would like that.”

“Of course.”

You knew how important it was to Rhett for things to stay good with Amy. Her reception of the move was the only one he seemed to care about. You could not help but think the rest of Rhett’s family was skeptical about his decision. Cecilia was always kind towards you, and she was mostly receptive to the idea, but you assume it must hurt to see her baby venture out. Something about her reminded you of your own mother. Two women clearly used to the short end of the stick, and had to find ways to deal with it. While your mother found salvation in travel and extravagant parties, Cecilia found hers in faith.

Perry was well… Perry, about the whole thing. Just based on how he handled the news, and small tidbits you picked up from Rhett, it seemed like Perry was upset about Rhett making a choice just for himself. A luxury that the eldest son had a premium on for some time.

But you think it was the patriarch of the family who took it the hardest. It may be the reality of having two less hands around 24/7 like Rhett says, but you tend to think it is something deeper with Royal. Anger, sadness, pride - all of them??? You don’t know.

But what you do know is that family tension is something both you and Rhett know far too well.

After unpacking the bags and boxes you got, the smoky coos of Frank Sinatra transition into the pop Christmas playlist you put together. You don’t remember when the bottle of red wine came out, whether it was between Britney singing about what she wants for Christmas that year or Mariah singing about a holy night. It might have been after you insisted the two of you try your hand at diy decorations. But Rhett rolled his eyes when you talked about getting glasses, taking swings straight from the bottle instead.

“I don’t know how you drink this shit,” he wrinkled his nose, but he takes another hit.

“Just like you enjoy your watery beer,” you retake the bottle from him to have some more yourself.

“Last time I checked,” he expertly ties red and green ribbon into pretty bows and knots. “You were there with me, drinkin’ said watery beer.”

You bite your lip as you watch his brows furrow, and he pokes his tongue out sweetly as he ties meticulously.

“You’re quite good at that.”

“‘M good with ropes too.”

It could be the red wine, which always made your insides warm and fuzzy. Or if could just be the Rhett of it all. Him indulging this perhaps silly childhood wound of yours in full earnest.

“Hmmm,” you shuffle closer to him. The two of you might a makeshift area on the living room floor of pillows and blankets. An almost sickly-sweet peppermint candle ablaze on the table, and the fireplace crackling nearby.

“Royal used to make me secure the lines and pull logs. Kinda got good at it.”

By this time, you’re stuck at his side, suddenly a little fixated on hair on his neck that trickles up to his jaw and cheeks. You like him like this; hair falling from behind where it is tucked behind his ears. Scruffy and soft.

“Maybe you can show me how good you are.”

Rhett’s attention still doesn’t stray from the ribbons he cuts and ties, a task he is clearly taking seriously, but he nods in agreement. You roll your eyes slightly at how oblivious he can be.

“On me, Rhett,” you spell it out for him. “You can use the ropes on me.”

He stops and turns with a look of wanton, wetting his lips for a moment.

“Yeah,” he asks, the inflection at the end of the question breathy and soft.

You nuzzle your nose into area right under his ear with a hum, kissing the skin there and taking in the smell of his cologne. A woodsy scent with sprites of magnolia and cedar. It was one that consumed the bedroom and your mind. You spent much of your formative years pretending to hate the idea of being desired or wanted - chasteness an idea drilled into your head since you were a little girl and told by the ladies of your church that the only thing worse than being ungodly is being ‘fast’. Then you spent college overcorrecting to the point of farce. Letting the guys you knew had little regard for how you felt at the end of it make decisions for you. Emotionally, mentally, and sexually.

Your first time with Rhett was a hodgepodge of giggle and sighs only to be heard by vast emptiness of the home you do sit in now. His boots and jeans askew on the floor. You eccentric grandma’s knick knacks watching you two. Most notably, the cat clock that reflected in the moonlight, the one Rhett insisted you keep when he moved in. After him eating you out until you cried, and a night that ended in you making a trip to the local pharmacy for a Plan B, you honestly expected a series of awkward moments that would single-handedly ruin the small town bliss you experienced for the first time. And yet, in the morning, his lips turned up in a shy smile and he asked if you had bacon in the fridge.

You didn’t realize how badly you were under water and needed to breathe until you came to Wabang. Your lips work their way up his jaw til you reach the corner of his mouth.

“Let’s make it another tradition.”

[goatcheesecak3]

Adam's diary

Adolescent Adam stanheight x adolescent Scott tibbs (platonic)

Fic type: diary entry, angst

Warnings: domestic abuse, underage drinking

Summary: a diary entry written by adolescent Adam Stanheight, detailing the weekend he spent with his best friend, Scott Tibbs

A/n: absolutely no one asked for this but it came to me like a prophetic vision, and I live for rustynail angst

Scott just left. He stays here sometimes when his mom's boyfriend gets mad, and I stay with him when my dad drinks. Scott says I'm lucky to have a real dad, but I disagree. At least Scott only gets hit by some chump who's banging his mom,  I think it's way worse when the beating comes from someone who's meant to love you. But that's whatever, because someday me and Scott are gonna be famous!! He's gonna be in a band, and I'm gonna do all their artwork and be their personal photographer. We'll be rich and we'll never speak to our families again.

Well, maybe I'll speak to mom. She's nice to me for the most part, she even hid enough money from dad to buy me this awesome camera for Christmas last year. I'm not allowed to use it when dad's around though, he can't know mom spent that much money on me. He doesn't have a clue where that money really went, he still thinks mom got robbed by one of the baseheads in our neighbourhood LOL!

I'd like to get rich enough to buy mom a house and take her away from dad, but even if I could afford it someday I don't think she'd go. She's scared of him, but she says she loves him and that she won't leave. It sucks because part of me wants to protect her, but the other part of me is really pissed that she doesn't protect me. I've gotten into fights with that asshole plenty of times, just to make sure he doesn't hurt her, but she's happy to sit back and watch him kick my ass.

Anyways, back to me and Scott. Scott stole some spray paint from his older brother, so this weekend we went and painted a mural on the old bridge downtown. You're not really allowed to get onto the bridge since it isn't used anymore, but me and Scott aren't scared of a little climbing LOL!!

I painted this cool design of a pole with skulls stuck to it, Scott says he wants to use it as an album cover for his band someday, which I think is pretty cool. After that we went to the corner store and brought some 40s to drink. The guy at the store is so old he thinks we're 21! Scott says one day we should try and walk out without paying, but I don't want to push our luck, plus, the guy seems nice, even if he isn't really all there.

There's a big football game on next weekend, so I'll probably stay at Scott's House, because dad will probably be drinking. We're gonna go back to the mural and add some finishing touches, and I'll bring my camera to get some cool shots of us in front of our masterpiece.

Life is better since I've found ways to avoid my dad. Anyways, that's all for now. I'm going to bed.

[shunshunrika]

╰──╮YUUJI ITADORI - LOVE LANGUAGE ╭──╯

 *ੈ✩ A wholesome young lad. Any parent would want him as their son-in-law. You met him because you were in the same club and were smitten by how kind and communal he was. You fell first and started finding opportunities to be around him more. He was oblivious at first but when you outright confessed, he fell harder than you did. Eventually you came to be known as the 'parent couple' of the club and people would treat you like a married couple.

 *ੈ✩ He's the type who waits after school to walk you back home even if he lives in the opposite direction. Sometimes your schedules don't align he stays back anyway to walk with you. And no, he doesn't do this to get into your pants. He's a genuinely nice person who wants to ensure you get back home safely, especially if it's late.

 *ੈ✩ The type who plans weekend outings because he knows you don't have to many people who invite you out for things when you really want to go and have a social life. Eventually his friend group becomes your family too and beach trips, karaoke, arcade, evening walks - all become a norm of your life, just like you wanted.

 *ੈ✩ Gives you company when you are doing arduous tasks. He won't talk or bother you, he just sits in close vicinity, listening to music, reading comics or doing his own thing quietly while you work. His presence is comforting and makes the tedious task go by faster. You don't know what you'd do without him.

 *ੈ✩ He's bad at giving gifts. He really wants to. He's always short on money though because he doesn't have any family to give him pocket money. Once he picks up a part-time job just to scrape up enough money to buy you a Christmas present. You cry that day. You scold him first though and then start crying. You tell him that he doesn't need to buy you material things to make you happy, he could've just shown up with his puppy face and you'd melt.

 *ੈ✩ He's a good listener and has great memory when it comes to remembering things. Also has an iron will. You note how people keep calling him stupid and blockheaded, but he really isn't. He is quite caring and compassionate, and you love this part of him, rarely found in the smartest or the hottest boy out there. He remembers little things you tell him. He remembers all your problems and the streams of thoughts you have about those problems. He remembers all the expressions you make and all the times you'd bite your lip or fumble with your fingers.

 *ੈ✩ Learns to cook for you because he's concerned you don't eat enough and are always tired. Becomes pretty good at cooking actually as he's a natural. Cooks up various cuisines, multiple times a day and makes sure you are well fed and happy. Makes sure he's using the right ingredients with the right nutrition output to boost your serotonin.

 *ੈ✩ Once, Yuuji Itadori showed up outside your house in the dead of winter, because he was super happy for some reason. He called you and asked you to look out the window as he waved his hands frantically. When you finally see him, standing there in knee deep snow, he starts moving around, writing something in large letters on the snow.

"Happy Anniversary" he spells out and grins big.

You are speechless as you walk out of the house barefoot and hug him tight.

"Happy Anniversary, you idiot."

There may be many hot men like Gojo, or cool men like Megumi - but there is only one Itadori Yuuji and he's yours.

I love him so much!!! literally the best boy in the show. He deserved more attention y'all!!

[l0serloki]

Christmas Joy

Christmas Time HCs

(Chamber, Cypher, Fade, Reyna)

A/N : MERRY CRISIS

CW : Christmas?, Eating (Reyna), kissing/hinted innuendos, GN!Reader

Chamber : 

He’s going to get you a bunch of gifts!!

I feel like he’s not the type of guy to decorate as much but he’ll get a tree. If you want to decorate he will buy you whatever you wish!

He DOES have the money but I feel that he’s more of a thoughtful gift-giver. Expect trinkets and stuff that reminds him of you! And OF COURSE, a gun! He made it to match with his!

Overall, it’s going to be a pretty chill christmas. He lets you call the shots and lounges with a huge grin on his face. He loves seeing you so happy :)

“Open your gifts, mon chou. I want to see how you like them.” Chamber waved you off the couch to sit next to the tree. Your hands wandered along the precisely wrapped gifts, giving him a warm smile. 

“You didn’t have to get me all of this! You’re too kind, Vin.” 

The two of you sat for quite a while, going through gifts and giving eachother small kisses. You had expected a different outcome than the thought out gifts. This was your first Christmas with Vincent after all! He had seemed more the type of guy to go expensive but, boy were you wrong. Your heart swelled at the thought of him caring for you, turning to kiss his soft cheek.

“Merry Christmas. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Cypher : 

MAN.

He makes little christmas lights out of his old camera parts. The whole bedroom looks like it was straight out of Wall-E.

“Baby it’s very uhh.. Festive!” “Yes, I know. I am too good.” (Smack that sarcastic bastard)

He gets you two a bunch of ‘christmassy’ teas to try as well. Gotta stay warm!

The presents are really sweet as well! He makes you some homemade tech to always have your back! As he said, “I need you to always be safe. Even when my eyes are down, my love.”

Give this man some love and that’s all he could ask for as a gift!

“I-What is this?” Your eyes raised as you walked into your shared bedroom. Old green and red lights on wrapped wire littered the ceiling, looking straight out of Cypher’s dump bin.

“It’s lights! You told me you wanted the room to be festive.” Cypher shrugged in response, continuing to type away at his keyboard.

As much as the lights were ugly, you had to praise him for the effort. 

“Wow. How.. Festive. Great job, love.” You leaned down to kiss his temple, holding in a chortle. Your boyfriend was something else.

Fade : 

I just imagine her getting you two matching sweaters! (She got Omen to knit them)

Much like Cypher, I feel that she’s a huge fan of warm drinks. She makes hot cocoa and tea! Whatever you wish for is her command :^)

Definitely over decorates the tree and makes cookies! “If Santa won’t eat them then we will!”

Lots of cuddling in blankets and hugs. She craves your attention! (She is very touch deprived, indulge her <3)

She gets you some new clothes & hobby items! She has a keen eye to stuff you like/need.

“Baby, you’re gonna suffocate me!” You squeaked out as Fade’s arms tightened around you. The air was frosty and the two of you laid in bed cuddling.

“No no, don’t be dramatic! You love it.” She graced your face with light kisses, small laughs leaving her mouth in the process. You could only grin at the sight of her so happy, glad to be such a source of joy for her.

“Yeah, whatever you say.” You leaned in, meeting her lips. She separated quickly, face red.

“A little warning would be nice! Whatever.. I guess it is Christmas. That’s your gift though.” She narrowed her eyes in mock sarcasm as the two of you just laughed. This would be a Christmas to remember.

Reyna : 

PLEASE.

She sets up mistletoe everywhere. Like you can’t take a step without seeing her smug grin. “Oh my.. I think you owe me a kiss.” “Rey, please. I’ve given you ten. I need to get a drink!”

She cooks a LOT on Christmas day. I feel like she loves the feeling of you being full & happy with everything. Good food and presence makes the best day!

“I don’t need gifts. You didn’t have to spend this money on me!” She tries to deny them but it fills her heart with joy. She’s honored that you got her such thoughtful gifts <3

She got you a lot of items for missions & some.. ‘Other’ items. “It’s a joke! Or was it..”

“This is so good, babe! You should make this more often.” You praised your girlfriend, digging into the food. Reyna only hummed, smiling at your hunger. 

“I am glad you like it. There is enough for a few days. We will have to open presents after you are done.” The woman rubbed at your back, setting down a drink for you. You hadn’t expected such a huge meal for Christmas morning but Reyna did not disappoint. The food was delicious and the two of you enjoyed eachothers presence. 

After you two had finished eating, Reyna’s arms circled around you. 

“Come, let’s go open gifts. I want you to see what I got you.” Her voice was laced with a dangerous note, sending electric shocks down your body. Soft lips brushed your jawline as the woman pulled you into the living room.

“Should I be scared?” You asked.

The only response you got was another kiss and a maniacal laugh.

Yeah, you should be scared.

[midnightlie]

The long story of why you became Taylor Swift's fan?

i was 12 years old when saw her performing tim mcgraw at the cmas on tv and i begged and begged and begged my mom for her cd for christmas and i GOT it i was so happy i played that album everyday for like a year.

when fearless came out, i used my own christmas money to buy it. i spent all christmas day playing it on my new ipod nano

for speak now, i preordered one of the album bundles and i still remember how excited i was the day it arrived. i wore that chunky plastic speak now bracelet for months. (i saw speak now in milwaukee the summer i was 17. i cried so much though the whole concert haha)

when red dropped i skipped my college class to walk to the local walgreens so i could buy it. i had no money, but i even shelled out for a red shirt while i was there.

when 1989 came out i spent hours in the car in the driveway of my house after work just to listen to it. i remember driving laps around my small home town with blank space on repeat.

when reputation came out, i begged my coworker to cover for me so i could run to the target at our mall so i could buy it on release day; that night me and my cousin drank wine and blasted it through our whole apartment.

when lover dropped, i was in a hotel room, listening to it with my best friend who lives 1000 miles away and stayed up just to listen to it with me because she knows how much i love taylor swift.

for folklore and evermore i was alone in my single room apartment crying over so many of the lyrics. im a flight attendant; i was working on the front lines during the pandemic. those albums brought such comfort.

and finally, midnights. stayed up again all night streaming it with my best friend. we texted lyrics back and forth all night long.

with every album taylor has released, its only made me love her more. im 29 now. im a writer; i would say her lyrics have influenced so much of the way i approach writing and how i channel emotions into it. and, shes just always been a part of my life. i feel so lucky to live in a timeline where she not only exists but is finally thriving and getting the love and recognition she deserves.