#Yeah I got the bag of flour

[bttotheeffins]

istg I have a better chance at solving a 100yo crime with zero evidence than deciphering my grandma’s recipes.

#3 cups of flour but only the cup that I drink my morning coffee from not the evening cup #2 tiiiiny spoons of suger you know the one I keep in the bag at all times that I got from my great grandmother #and you cook it as long as it takes me to drink my coffee and smoke a cigarette #.. yeah grandma #got it #don’t forget a handful of cinnamon #WE HAVE DIFFERENT SIZE HANDS LADY #and how does she season the meat you ask? well .. #“just put in a little bit of everything you’ll know when to stop

[evie-sturns]

wrong room - Matt Sturniolo

summary: you recently met nick through social media, he invites you over to his house for the night. while walking to the bathroom you accidentally enter the wrong room, walking in on matt masturbating.

contains: smut, caught masturbating, soft!dom matt, swearing, light choking.

a/n: this fic will contain different pov's between yours and matts, but it will have a little text so you will known when.

—----------------┌── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┐----------———

i met nick just the other month at taras party, we instantly clicked resulting in him inviting me round today. i've been hanging out with him around his house his whole day with one of his triplet brothers, chris, i think.

(y/n's pov)

i lean against nicks countertop as he has a poor attempt to cook, "nick- nick no!" i laugh, grabbing the bag of flour as he repeatedly hits it with his elbow while mixing the dough.

"oh god, my fault" he says with a a grin as chris walks over, he spanks the cookie dough which is inside the mixing bowl, earning a slap from nick.

"okay- i'll give it a go." i decide to finally step up, nick steps out of the way as i look into the bowl, its somehow completely unmixed even after hes mixed for a solid 5 minutes.

i look over my shoulder, my eyebrows knit in confusion as i lock eyes with nick, "i'm actually not sure how i managed that."

"its okay baking isn't for everyone." i tease, he scoffs as chris laughs, "how do you mix for 20 minutes and all the ingredients look the exact same as when we put them in the bowl." chris says,

nick mocks him with a finger in the air and a nerdy tone, chris punches his shoulder.

i step away, "do you guys have a bathroom?" i ask, "nah we shit in the woods." chris says.

"yeah, we use the bark off the trees to wipe then bury it with our hands." nick adds on, unlocking the backdoor and opening it for me.

i go to walk out slowly, chris grabs my shoulder and spins me around, "down the hallway, and the last door on the left."

"oh-" i say with a loud laugh as i walk down the hall, i hear the metal of the bowl collide with the wooden floor from behind me "shit!" nick says.

i get to the end of the corridor and look to my right, the door is shut. i grip the handle and open it,

my eyes widen as i instantly grow hot, the third triplet, matt, is laying across the bed. hes wearing a green shirt and a necklace hangs loosely around his neck. his sweatpants are tugged down to his mid thighs as he's repeatedly running his hand up and down his length with his head thrown back.

(matts pov)

"fuck- fuck fuck-" strings of whimpers exit my mouth as slick noises fill the room, i brush my fingers over my sensitive tip before continuing to run my hand up and down my cock, the cold metal of my rings dragging against the veins.

"oh my god 'm- please please-" i whine, squeezing my eyes shut as i throw my head back against my headboard. my ears ring,

i dont even register the click of the door opening until i hear a feminine gasp "shit-" i hear.

my eyes spring open as i abruptly stop all hand movements, she stares at me in shock. her face is white and her mouth is open, after a few seconds she scrambles out of the room with several 'sorry's'

i sigh as my cheeks grow red, i didn't even cover myself. my hand is still wrapped around my length.

i stand up out of bed, my legs weak. i'm still hard but i've completely lost my train of thought, too embarrassed to think about finishing now. i hear the bathroom door slam shut, meaning that this girl has now found the bathroom.

i pull up my sweatpants, grabbing hand sanitiser off my bedside table and clean up my hands before pulling up my sweatpants.

"matt!!" i hear nick call from the kitchen. i open the door of my bedroom before making my way up the corridor.

(y/n's pov)

i unlock the door to the bathroom before walking back up towards the kitchen, the 3 triplets are there.

"we got the cookies in the oven but it turned to fucking liquid as soon as we put 'em in." chris says, pulling out the chair to the dining table and flopping down on it,

"this is matt, i don't think you've met him yet." nick says, matt and i lock eyes and he sticks his hand out for a hand shake.

i hesitate before shaking his hand, "formal ass greeting" nick says, elbowing matt and sitting down at the table, "sorry- 'm matt" matt says, running a hand through his hair "no worries, im y/n!" i say chirpily

all four of us gather at the table, matt is directly opposite me and i can feel his eyes lying on me, we keep making eye contact as chris and nick speak with each other about god knows, hes painfully attractive i have to admit, his tatoos, rings, awkward persona.

"its almost midnight, do you wanna start headed to bed?" nick asks me, i nod before walking off with nick towards his room.

"are you okay?" nick asks me as soon as the door shuts, "no- no i'm fine."

"is it matt?" nick laughs slightly as he pulls on a crewneck sweater and leaps into his bed. "yeah- no- i mean it's just i've met him before..?" i lie through my teeth, nick nods suspicously.

"well i'm tired as shit so i'm gonna cut it" nick says, "cut it?" i laugh, laying down beside nick.

"go to sleep? cut it....?" he smiles with a shrug.

-

nicks fast asleep, i just now remember the fact the cookies have been in the oven for over 35 minutes. i jump up, speed-walking out of the room and into the kitchen. i take out the metal tray, the 'cookies' are just lumps of charcoal now.

with a groan i exit the kitchen, i can see through the crack in his bedroom door that matt's still awake.

i don't know what posseses me but i knock softly on the door, "come in." i hear.

i open the door, matts shirtless in bed, still wearing those sweatpants from earlier.

(matt's pov)

my eyes widen as i see her walk into the room, "hi, uh- i just wanted to apologise for earlier." she says, i stand up out of bed to get closer to her, she shuts the door behind her. she’s only wearing a loose and long shirt which looks like a dress on her, with panties, which show every time she lifts up her arms.

"i should've knocked." she continues, i smile and shake my head.

"no i totally get it, honest mistake" i reply, "wasn't the best way to meet you so i'm sorry about that." she laughs slightly.

"its all okay," i say, "so you're not mad at me?" she asks shyly. "i would never be mad about that?" i sigh, pulling her into a hug.

theres a thick tension in the air, i don't know where it's come from but i know we are both feeling it.

she looks up at me, my arms are still loosely wrapped around her back.

she grabs my jaw before colliding our lips together, her lips are soft, i hesitate before kissing her back, my hand lacing into her hair.

i guide her back, she falls backwards onto my matress as our lips stay joined, our tongues now fighting for dominance.

her hands reach down and start tugging down my waistband. i pull away for a second, “are you sure?” i ask her, she nods frantically “please- yes.”

“arms up.” i say, she puts her arms above her head as i reach down, pulling off her loose tshirt. my eyes fall to her tits as my cheeks flush, she squirms on the matress impatiently.

i tug off her panties, discarding them somewhere across my room. she’s fully bare infront of me, her top teeth sinking into her bottom lip.

i lean over her to reach my bedside table, fiddling around in the drawer for a condom, “i’m on the pill,” she says grabbing my wrist and pulling me away

“oh shit okay!” i say, sounding a little too excited. she laughs slightly.

“you gotta be really, fucking, quiet.” i stare into her eyes, “nick is through that fucking wall and chris is the other side, if you get too loud i’ll stop mhm?”

she nods frantically “yes- yeah okay”

i line myself up with her, my hand travels down to grip her waist and i hold her hand with my free hand.

i push inside of her, instantly feeling her grip around me. i immediately worry, there’s not a single chance i’m lasting past a minute with her being this tight.

she lets out a delicate moan, holding herself back as she presses her lips together. i give her a minute to adjust before thrusting out to my tip, then pressing deeper inside of her.

with each thrust i pick up my pace as i stay concentrated on the wall, trying not to instantly cum.

she throws her head back, arching her back off my bed as every so often she lets out a shaky deep breath. i take the hand that’s on her waist and press down on her lower abdomen, seeing how far i can push her before she makes a noise.

i stop holding her hand with my other hand, and start tracing figure 8’s on her clit.

she finally breaks, letting on a desperate moan which seemed to come out louder than expected. i quicken my movements before slamming a hand over her pretty mouth. i hear a muffled ‘close’ and i continue to toy with her clit, keeping a hand plastered on her mouth.

she clenches around me, a whimper falls from my mouth as i feel her release, screaming my name.

i take my hand off her clit and place a hand on her throat, pressing lightly as she comes down from her high.

i pull out of her, finishing in my hand.

i flip down next to her, pulling her ontop of me and rubbing her back soothingly as i attempt to catch my breath. “matt..” i hear her say quietly,

“mhmm?” i reply, “can you walk me back to nicks room.” she says, sitting up on my thighs and reaching for her shirt.

“yeah, of course.” i say with a smile.

she crawls off of me to retrieve her underwear, which landed on my computer keyboard.

i sit up, pulling on my sweatpants and a soft shirt before grabbing her hand.

i creak open my bedroom door, she follows close behind me. i open the door to nicks room where he’s spread out on his bed, fast asleep. i pull down the covers and sweep her off her feet.

i lay her down on the bed, adjusting her head on the pillow before pulling up the duvet, i press my lips to her forehead before leaving the room.

————————-

(y/n’s pov)

9:38am

i wake up to the sun blaring on my face, i roll over, my legs still hurting from last night. i sit up, “nick” i tap him, he shoots up in bed.

“jesus!” i laugh, “how the fuck did you get up that fast- were you awake??”

nick erupts into laughter, “you scared me that’s all!” he says, i scoff before standing up out of bed, nick follows behind me as i open the door to his room.

i walk into the kitchen where chris and matt already are, leaning on the kitchen counter.

“good morning!” i say, matt shoots me a stupid smile “guess what.” chris says blankly, my heart drops, did he hear matt and i last night?

“what.” i instantly reply, looking over at matt who looks equally as nervous as me.

he walks over to the stovetop where the tray of ‘cookies were’ he picks them up and walks over to nick, matt and i.

“oh yeah- you dumbfucks left ‘em in the oven so i took them out.”

“what. the. FUCK is that” nick laughs, backing away from the burnt excuses of cookies.

“are they edible still?” chris genuinely asks, looking over at me for an awnser.

“chris what do you think.”

——————-

#sturniolo #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo angst #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo smut

[sunnitheapollokid]

✴️ ┊ ༑ ࿐ྂ。GO ON AND PUT THAT RING ON MY FINGER!

how the heroes of olympus would react to you accidentally calling them “husband”! <3

characters in this thread : leo valdez, percy jackson, jason grace, frank zhang.

📬 sunni’s notes : hey sunni nation school is biting me in the ass but i am thriving (barely) ANYWAAAY i was thinking of some fic ideas and this had crossed my mind and thought it would be fun!! lowkey breaking my silence because i haven’t gone far enough to write about our boy frank so if he’s a little out of character then i apologize </3 okay happy reading bebis! sunkisses!!! >3<

ʚ PERCY JACKSON ɞ . . .

⊹ you and percy spent christmas break at sally’s apartment!

⊹ it was a snowy new york city day, and y’all decided to stay in and just bake some cookies with his mom, while paul was out for work.

⊹ “hell yeah!! cookies!!” percy yelled, grabbing the ingredients from the apartment pantry, a bag of flour, sugar, and white chocolate chips in his arms.

⊹ sally clapped her hands, “(name), honey, grab the powdered sugar please?” you nodded, on your way to the pantry.

⊹ you scanned the small room, percy walking beside you, his hands on his hips. he hit your hips with his own sassily, “come on babe, it’s right there.” he teased.

⊹ rolling your eyes you reply,

⊹ “hubba, i’m trying—“ you cut yourself off. “i.. i mean— ah.. i-“

⊹ percy, silent for a bit, burst into laughter, holding his stomach.

⊹ your cheeks growing a shade of pink, he helf you by the waist and peppered you with wet kisses. “awww, my dear ‘ol wife!” he said in a posh-accent.

⊹ you tried to get out of his embrace, but he kept his grip, “perce! stop!!” you laughed with him, percy continued his kisses before you two got scolded at by sally.

⊹ “love birds! hurry with the powdered sugar!”

⊹ before leaving back for school, percy asked his mom for engagement ring ideas.

⊹ this man did not want to waste time.

ʚ LEO VALDEZ ɞ . . .

⊹ spending your time back in leo’s cabin, everybody was gone for the end of summer break, and leo was the only one left back at the heph cabin.

⊹ you laid on his bed while he worked on a few projects, tossing a piece of metal in the air and catching it, letting it keep you distracted.

⊹ leo hummed, “mami, you okay?” he kept his eyes glued to the small machine infront of him.

⊹ you hummed back, “yeah. i’m peachy hubba.”

⊹ your eyes widen.

⊹ his eyes widen.

⊹ “wh.. whAT’D YOU SAY??” leo jumped, his goggles falling from his face.

⊹ “I MEANT BUBBA! NOT HUBBA!”

⊹ despite your efforts in justifying the accidental nickname, leo had twinkles in his eyes.

⊹ “i definitely heard you call me your husband.” he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms.

⊹ you folded i’m afraid.

⊹ “when did we have a wedding? i’m sure i’d remember you in white mami.”

⊹ gods, the wink. he gave you a wink.

⊹ HE DEFINITELY FLEXED IT AT THE SEVENS GANG.

⊹ “oh, i don’t know about you guys but i’m pretty sure (name) just called me her husband.”

⊹ “oh shut up you already told us that.”

ʚ JASON GRACE ɞ . . .

⊹ sunny day out!

⊹ y’all were out in new york for a totally normal mortal date, which you guys think you deserved by the way.

⊹ you guys we’re just out window shopping and coo’ing at old dogs that their owners had walked them out for, your hands interwined.

⊹ jason always caught a glimpse of your beaming smile whenever you waved at a dog passing by.

⊹ “where do you wanna go next honey?” he spoke softly, continuing your walking.

⊹ “mm.. coffee shop?”

⊹ the blondie shrugging his shoulders, mirroring the same grin his girlfriend had, he nodded.

⊹ excited to get some coffee, you don’t truly realize your choice of words,

⊹ “thanks hubba!—“

⊹ at first, jason and you don’t really realize it since at this point, you two we’re a married couple by the way you act.

⊹ the intimacy and the pure comfort of you guys.

⊹ from the rest of the sevens point of few, you two we’re like parents to them.

⊹ but he brings it up the minute you guys inhale the aroma of fresh brewed coffee.

⊹ “hubba?” he said in-between soft chuckles, a pink blush growing on his face as his nervousness starts to creep up his spine.

⊹ she grinned, “you like it?”

⊹ “love it.” and he kissed your cheek longingly.

ʚ FRANK ZHANG ɞ . . .

⊹ frank tackled you gently into a bear hug.

⊹ the poor boy was training until sunrise.

⊹ you giggled under your breath as he basically enveloped you in his embrace.

⊹ “you sleepy, baby?” you whispered, the giggles unable to be kept.

⊹ frank nodded while he nuzzled his face in your shoulder, just savoring the moment you guys we’re having together under the sunrise of camp.

⊹ “just sleep hubba.” you slipped out, but frank was unable to overhear. though, he truly, truly, did overhear.

⊹ he was too tired to react, keeping his face in your shoulder, but he let out a hum, a faint smile on his face.

⊹ “thank you love.”

⊹ “anything for you.”

⊹ though the moment he woke up, unsure to bring it up, he came up to you,

⊹ “you uh.. called me something, when i fell asleep.”

⊹ you cocked a brow, confused, then it hit you.

⊹ “OH! sorry— force of habit.” you grinned.

⊹ frank melted at your gaze, kissing your forehead, “maybe we should make it a normal habit.”

#sunni does not sleep #sunni's sunkisses ☼ *. #pjoverse #percy jackson x reader #leo valdez x reader #jason grace x reader #frank zhang x reader #heroes of olympus x reader #percy jackson headcanons #leo valdez headcanons #jason grace headcanons #frank zhang headcanons

[moonstruckme]

hi ml, wondering if you’d be able to do poly!marauders x hyperactive!reader who rlly gets the zoomies sometimes (me honestly) and out of nowhere she’s just super energetic and is like “hey sorry i’m gonna run to the store quickly for some stuff” and comes back and she’s got things to bake/cook and they’re all in bewilderment like ??? what is happeneing rn

Thanks for requesting lovely!

poly!maraders x hyperactive!reader ♡ 603 words

“I’m bored,” you say abruptly, knee bouncing so fast it’s shaking the coffee table. 

Sirius raises his eyebrows at the unfinished card game between you, him, and James. “Well, that’s a bit insulting.” 

You shake your head rapidly. “Not you, sorry. I just…” You gnaw at your lip, and Sirius and James exchange a bemused look. Remus had cut you off from the coffee pot hours ago, but you look like you’re about to start vibrating. “I don’t know, I need something else to do.” 

James looks at you consideringly. “Do you wanna start a movie?”

You shake your head again, and you’ve got a look on your face like you’re trying to see inside your own brain. 

“We could put on some music,” Sirius suggests.

“No.” You frown. “I feel like I need to climb a tree, or learn how to do a back handspring, or something.” You look at him. “You know?”

Sirius can’t say he does.

“Maybe you just need to take a lap around the block,” Remus says idly, flipping the page in his novel. 

You jump to your feet. “I’ve got it,” you announce, and head for the door. 

“Wait,” James says quickly, “wait, sweetheart, Remus was just joking.” 

Remus looks up from his book, vaguely alarmed. “Yeah, dove, don’t actually run around the block. It’s dark out.” 

“I won’t.” You wave them off, grabbing your bag and rushing out the door. You stop a few steps from the threshold, look down at your feet, and come back, slipping on a pair of shoes. “Be back soon!” you call, and before anyone can protest further, you’ve shut the door behind you. 

Sirius looks between his boyfriends. “What the fuck was that about?”

Remus shrugs, going back to his book. “Dunno. If she’s not back in twenty minutes, would one of you let me know? We should probably call the police.” 

Thankfully for them (and the police), you are back within twenty minutes. You and three bags of groceries. 

“Angel.” James stands as you speed into the kitchen, heaving the bags onto the counter. “What’s going on with you? What are you doing?”

“I’m baking cookies.” 

“It’s nearly midnight,” Remus says, at the same time as Sirius asks, “What kind of cookies?”

James has perked up at the mention of desserts, too. “Not sure,” you answer with a shrug. “I couldn’t decide between chocolate chip, earl grey, and these peppermint-and-chocolate ones I saw online, so I got ingredients for each and I’m gonna try them all.” 

“Dove,” Remus tries again, as James prances happily into the kitchen to help you set up, “it’s nearly midnight. How late are you planning to stay up to finish all that?”

“Also not sure.” You take out three big mixing bowls and begin measuring out flour for each of them. “The dough for the earl grey cookies needs to be refrigerated for a few hours, so I figure I can always freeze the rest if I don’t want to keep going after that.” 

Sirius raises his eyebrows, watching as you and James flit about the kitchen like busy hummingbirds. “Should we try and stop them?” he asks Remus quietly. 

“No.” Remus is frowning, and Sirius can tell that, behind a layer of weariness, his amber eyes are calculating. “She won’t be able to keep this level of energy up for long. She’ll conk out soon.” 

Sirius grins, leaning up to press a kiss to the taller boy’s cheek. “Alright, sunshine,” he says, joining you and James in the kitchen. He hops up onto the counter. “Tell me what I can do to help.” 

#poly!marauders #poly!marauders x hyperactive!reader #poly!marauders x fem!reader #poly!marauders x reader #poly!marauders x y/n #poly!marauders x you #poly!marauders x self insert #poly!marauders fanfiction #poly!marauders fanfic #poly!marauders fic #poly!marauders fluff #poly!marauders imagine #poly!marauders drabble #poly!marauders scenario #poly!marauders oneshot #poly!marauders one shot #james potter #james potter x reader #sirius black #sirius black x reader #remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #the marauders #marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders era #the marauders era #marauders fanfic #marauders fic #marauders fandom

[d3add0vedonoteat]

Chicken Soup for Carmy

⚠️ Content Warning ⚠️ harsh language, sexism and violence in one scene (not from Carmy). Hurt/comfort, fluff.

A/N: I’m literally feral for this man. I’m sick atm and I started thinking about taking care of Carmy while I was making chicken soup. Bonus combo with Carmy protecting you from an asshole customer. Not proofread bc my brain is rotting. Plz be nice this is my first time posting a fic 🥺

-

It was cold. You braced yourself against the harsh Chicago wind as you made your way briskly down the street. After a late night phone call from your brother sent you into a spiral, you couldn’t sleep. You’d been tossing and turning all night until finally, at 4am, you flung off the covers and got dressed. It wasn’t a surprise that you’d come here. This place consumed all your mind and your heart since you started working here a few months ago. You used your key to unlock the door in the alley, sighing with relief as the warmth of The Beef welcomed you inside. It was quiet, the lights were down, it was peaceful. You slipped off your sneakers trading in your kitchen clogs and tucked your things safely away in your locker. You tied your handkerchief on your head as you moved. It was so comforting, the routine of The Beef’s prep work. You felt so at home, moving from the prep area to the walk in, diligently beginning the tasks that didn’t need to be started for a few more hours. He would understand. You thought to yourself as you began to prepare fresh stock for the day. He was a man after your own heart, your boss, Carmen Berzatto.

Avoidant, chaotically emotional, one wrong thing away from a complete meltdown, that you both disguised as workaholic tendencies. As you finely chopped onions, your mind quieted. Everything was shut out except for the task at hand. Your brother’s angry voice on the phone accusing you: “you never come home! You don’t even care about us! You can’t take come take care of your own mother?!” was drowned out by the rhythmic pound of your knife on the cutting board. You were in the zone.

Until a voice startled you out of your bubble. “Chef?” You jolted, looking up at the man before you. Carmy’s hair was messier than usual, the bags under his eyes were deeper and more purple. His lips were parted with each soft breath he took. He gave you a quizzical look. “What are you doing here?”

“I uh-” your mouth felt dry and you tripped over your words, as usual when he set those intense blue eyes on you. “I couldn’t sleep.”

Carmy nodded, not pushing you any further. All he said before moving toward the office was a simple: “Heard, Chef.”

You watched him go, noticing the slump of his shoulders and the labor of his normally spry step. There was no mistaking it, Carmen was sick. You stared at the office door for a long moment before you made up your mind.

You set a heavy bottomed pot on the stove with some olive oil. Your hands moved with well practiced efficiency as you chopped garlic and onions, celery and carrots. The garlic and onions went in first. Then the celery. A sprig of thyme and a dash of white wine. While that simmered you quickly seared some chicken breast and chopped it into perfectly bite sized pieces. All into the pot with chicken stock and water, tightly covered to develop the flavors. Next came the pasta. You cracked eggs into the well of flour, mixing and kneading until it became a smooth golden dough. You carefully, tenderly rolled the dough and cut it into thick, short noodles. A bath in hot water to cook, then they too joined the pot. In no time at all, you were ladling a generous portion into a bowl. You set a toasted piece of chibatta on the side, grabbed a spoon, and took a deep breath in an attempt to settle your nerves. Softly, you knocked on the office door.

“Yeah?” His voice responded.

“Chef?” You entered, nervous. Words failing you as they so often did in his presence, you set the bowl before him. Carmy’s eyes widened. The aroma made his mouth water. He looked to you, gaze softening. “You made me chicken soup?”

Your cheeks grew warm. “Y-yeah, I mean chicken soup always makes me feel better when I’m sick.”

Carmy couldn’t believe you. You noticed? He smiled at you. You were so beautiful. You were always so confident and sure on the line, delegating with efficiency, respect, and authority. He had hired you the second you stepped into The Beef. Your resume was impressive but there was something in the way you carried yourself that truly earned the golden reputation you had in the culinary industry. But you were different with him, in the occasional moments like this where it was just you and him. Shy, almost bashful, gentle, and soft. He loved it. He wanted more of it. He lifted the spoon, bringing a bite to his lips.

“Gotta get a little of everything.” You muttered, eagerly awaiting his response.

Carmy shot you a sideways smile. It was good. No, it was better than good. The warm broth slid down his throat and each bite exploded with a depth of flavor he couldn’t believe. It was pure comfort. It reminded him of being a little kid staying home sick from school. Curled up on the couch while Jerry Springer played, eating crackers and ginger ale until his mom would bring a bowl of chicken noodle soup. But this soup, your soup, was more than that. People always talk about cooking with love but he swore he could taste it. Each ingredient had been so carefully handled. Perfectly chopped vegetables, moist and flavorful chicken. The warm feeling in his chest grew as he inspected the bowl.

“Did uh, did you make this pasta fresh?” He asked, eyeing you.

“Yeah, it’s better that way.” You blushed.

“Thank you, chef.” He said. “It’s really, really good.” Carmy looked down, suddenly feeling heavy. The fear of closeness set into him and all he could think about was how he’d fuck this up. “You-you didn’t have to make this for me.”

“Oh, it’s okay!” You insisted. “It was no big deal.” You began to leave, giving him one last truthful smile. “I like taking care of you.”

“I like taking care of you.” Your words rattled through Carmy’s mind all day. Throughout all of lunch, prep, and dinner he couldn’t stop thinking about what you’d said. The soup you had made was the first thing he’d eaten in too long. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had cooked for him and you’d just done it because you noticed he wasn’t feeling well. No motive, no games, just tender love and concern.

Love.

Carmy shook his head to try and shake the thought from his mind. No, no, no there was no way you actually cared about him. Not like that. You were just being nice.

That’s just who you are; nice. You were always so kind. The way you’d help Marcus workshop pastries, the way you’d make Tina laugh and listen to her talk about whatever trouble Louis had gotten in, how you’d encourage Sydney and remind her that she can do this. Even the way you’d throw snark right back at Richie or how’d you’d always set aside a portion of Family for Fak and Sugar, even Pete. You were always thinking of others. Carmy wasn’t special.

Yeah. Not special.

Carmy insisted the thought as he scrubbed the grill. Not special. Not special. Not special.

“Carmy?” There you were. You were always there. You had a thick denim jacket on, bag on your shoulder, knit beanie pulled down over your hair. Your brow furrowed at the sight of him. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Carmy shook his head. “I’m fine… you uh- you heading out?”

You shrugged, hoisting your bag a little higher on your shoulder and eyeing him skeptically. “Yeah. Are you?”

“Yeah, in a bit.”

You chuckled, more exasperated than humorous. “No.”

“What?” Carmy asked, confused.

“No, you’re leaving too.” You insisted. You were feeling bold. Months of long looks and his hand on your lower back every time he passed you had culminated tonight.

You had taken over the front for Richie while he ducked out to take a call from his daughter. You’d insisted. It was slammed for dinner but everything was going fairly smooth until an irate customer approached you.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” He’d asked, slamming his plate onto the counter.

“Excuse me?”

“I mean are you retarded or something?” He continued. You were stunned into silence. You had never had anyone speak to you like that. “How hard is it to make a fucking sandwich? I know your tits are bigger than your brain but Jesus fucking Christ it’s not hard!”

“I-I…” you were shaking. “I’m sorry that you’re not satisfied, sir. If you like, we can-”

“Not satisfied?!” He screamed. “How can I be satisfied with this piece of shit!”

He hurled the sandwich at you. It hit you in the chest, toppings and sauce splattering everywhere. Before you even knew what was happening, a blur of messy curls shot past you. Carmy launched over the counter, tackling the man. His fist collided with the man’s face over and over while Richie and Fak rushed after him. There was a cacophony of yells as Richie pulled Carmy back. “Get your girl!” Richie yelled. “Cousin! Go get your girl!”

Fak and Richie dragged the man out and threw him into the street. Carmy’s hands grasped your cheeks.

“Hey, hey, are you okay?” He wiped the sauce splatters from your brow. “Look at me.”

Carmy burned with anger as he watched you shake. Your white shirt and blue apron were covered in the sandwich. He imagined what you would do for him if he was in your position. How you’d care for him, how you’d tend to him… so he tried to do what you would. Gently he guided you to your feet and wrapped his arm around your waist. He practically carried you to his office where he sat you on the couch and quickly went to grab a clean shirt from his own locker. You were in the same place he left you when he returned. Carmy knelt before you, taking your face in his hands once more.

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay.” Tears welled in your eyes and you collapsed into his arms. He smoothed his hand over you back, repeating “it’s okay” over and over again. He felt like he was on fire. The feeling of you clinging to him, nuzzling your face into his neck, the smell of you, how you fit in his arms… it was too much. He wanted to run away and never speak to you again. He wanted to wake up next to you every morning for the rest of his life. He wanted to scream. He wanted to feel your lips against his. He wanted to find the piece of shit that yelled at you and rip him to pieces. He wanted your chicken soup every time he was sick.

All those feelings were closing in on Carmy once again as he stared at you across the kitchen. You still had his t shirt on. You were looking at him expectantly.

“Sorry, uh… what did you say?” Carmy’s voice was softer than he expected.

“I said I’ll walk home with you.”

“Oh, no that’s okay. Ive got to-“

“Carmy,” you stepped closer. Your voice was firm but so tender. “You need to get some rest. Come on, I won’t take no for an answer.”

He couldn’t help but smile back at you. “Alright…” he conceded.

The two of you braced yourselves against the cold and hurried down the sidewalk side by side. You argued about who would walk who home. Carmy insisted on walking you to your apartment but you protested on the grounds that he’d just go back to the restaurant once he dropped you off.

“Fine,” you gave in. “But you have to call me when you get to your place so I know you made it home!”

Carmy looked at the ground, smiling. The warmth in his chest from your soup was steadily turning into a molten pool of lava.

“Heard.” He grinned. You wanted to know he’d made it home. You wanted to make sure he rested. I like taking care of you.

“Well, I’m just up here.” Your voice stopped his thoughts from spiraling before it could even start. Carmy’s brow furrowed. “What?” You asked, puzzled by his sudden change in demeanor.

“You live over there?”

“Yeah? Like a block down?”

There was a beat of silence before Carmy let out a breathy laugh. “I live right there.” He pointed to the building on the other side of the street.

“No shit!” You laughed in earnest. Your hand came to rest on his arm. “Guess I’m gonna be walking you home more often.”

Carmy’s entire body was on fire. He could imagine the tingle of your soft hand on his skin through all the layers of clothing. He wanted to hold you close again like in his office, but this time you wouldn’t be crying. A deep pit opened in his stomach. How long before he made you cry? How long before he fucked it all up? Until you hated him and quit the restaurant and everything fell apart because he-

“Hey,” your voice. Always your voice that brought him back. When he looked over at you it was like everything but your face faded into a blurry background. You were all Carmy could see. “Do you want to come to mine? I haven’t eaten and I KNOW you haven’t either.”

Carmy’s heart fluttered. “O-okay.” He started, his confidence rising when he noticed your hand was still in his arm. “Only if you let me cook you something.”

“Ooh,” you smiled. “I’d never turn that down!”

Carmy chuckled, feeling lighter for the first time in years as he walked so close beside you that your shoulders brushed. “It won’t be as good as your chicken soup.”

#the bear #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy the bear #carmy x reader #carmy x you #carmy x fem!reader #hurt/comfort #sickfic #carmen berzatto fluff

[shojizbae]

Yeehaw!

Spencer Reid x reader

Warnings: This is spicy! Use of alcohol, behind drunk/drunk sex, Oral fem! receiving, cowgirl position

Everyone could tell with just one look at you that you were Southern. That being said, anytime there was a case in the South, everyone knew to take a step back and let you lead. This time, there was a string of murders in Aiken, South Carolina, and the team knew that you were all over it.

"Weren't you from a Carolina?" Derek chuckles as we board the jet.

"Yeah, I spent most of my time on Camp Lejeune with my daddy, then I went south for college in Charleston."

"So that means Hotch has been demoted for this." Emily snickers

"No, I just know the South, and I'll get a little gun-happy when I'm back home. It wouldn't be no different had we gone to Chicago, Derek."

"Wow, mama's go home heat today." We settle on the jet, and Hotch and Rossi debrief us. I take a nap as we head south, and unfortunately, the power of the state takes me over. I march up to the sheriff and flash my credentials.

"So, how's it happen?" The sheriff speaks in an accent so thick it makes grits look like juice. I glance at the team, and they seem to sigh in relief when they realize I can understand him. Tirelessly, we worked the case for 73 hours. We met at a fresh crime scene every morning. The unsub seemed to be in a frenzy. He was dangerous and mixed with a high concentration of amphetamine addiction in this area. It was likely he had no clue he was killing.

But, due to the trace amounts of meth, we knew that he was unstable and would trip up eventually. We got some sleep after the fourth body, and there was a trip up in the morning. A fifth, but he had left some of his powdered sugar at the crime scene.

I put a glove on and lifted the little baggie, showing it off to Reid.

"Hey, Spencer, check this out."

"Hey, I've been clean for years," He mopes

"Aw, I'm sorry, sugar," A detective approaches me with an evidence bag. "Here, swab it and run this through CODIS." Spencer and I kept sweeping the crime scene for any molecule of evidence. Nothing all that exciting. The killer left the knife in her this time. Indicative of the fact that they were out of control. I squat next to the body and ghost my fingers over the entrance wound.

"Hey Spencer," He perks up like a gopher, "If you were going to kill someone and you were going to stab them to death, how'd you do it?"

"Are you sure that's an appropriate question?"

"I'm just curious."

"I'd probably use something with a curved blade. It would do the most damage and be the hardest to remove." His eyes go kind of dead, as he explains. An awkward air hangs between the two of us as we survey the wound.

"Damn, Spence, that's messed up."

"You asked." He sasses

Not later that evening, a woman called to suspect a strange man was in her house. We move in immediately and find a man pacing in circles in the bathroom. He's violent and angry, and his nose is bleeding. He tried to swing a knife at Morgan, but I grabbed him by the wrist and slammed his head into the wall. I use my hips to push him forward and cuff him while Emily helps the woman safely out of her house.

I march him to the car while he screams that I'm a bastard whore. Finally, I shoved him into the police car and muttered a good riddance. I even patted my hands like a baker getting flour off.

"I need a drink." I put my hands on my hips

"I could use something to cool off, too. This southern heat can be beat." Derek wipes his brow

"Hotch you think we have the leeway to spend the night here?" Emily asks

"That's all up to JJ, anything pressing enough that we need to get back to Quantico?"

"Well, nothing too scary that we couldn't cut loose after working for six days straight." She smiles at the team

Hours later, we showered, ate a full meal at a steakhouse, and put on the nicest clothes in our go-bags. The team was shocked to discover I had a cowboy hat in my bag. We moseyed our way to the bar, a small dive bar with a pool table. A mechanical bull is in the center of the room, and my eyes light up at the memories. Rossie buys us a pitcher of beer, and we all unwind from the stressful week.

As we knock 'em back slowly and let college stories fly, the team starts to forget what we had seen. Rossi tells us some funny stories about going to college during the summer of love, and Reid accidentally brags about going to Cal Tech.

"Well, what about you? Didn't you go to school nearby?" Emily says as she refills her glass.

"Uh yeah, in Charleston, South Carolina." I clarify

"So you must have spent most of your nights like this." Derek motions around the bar, playing honky-tonk music. Pool balls clack around us, and there's a thin layer of dirt around the edge of the bar.

"Well, most nights I spent in my dorm or the library. Every other Saturday, my roommate and neighbors would go to a dive named Fat Daddy's. We would make bets with the alcoholic dads about being able to ride the bull, and if we stayed on longer than they said so, they'd buy us all a drink. I didn't pay for my own liquor for three semesters." The team stood in shock. Hotch's jaw was agape and Rossi just nodded his chin in acknowledgement.

"Well, now, baby girl, I have to see you in action." Derek almost commands

"No, I ain't dressed right. And ain't nobody betted me."

"I bet you won't last seven seconds on the mechanical bull," Spencer interjects "If you do, I'll buy you that coconut margarita that you've been eyeing."

"Alrght, there's my bet." I march up to the bartender "I'm'onna ride that bull." I point at it and he looks me hat to boot.

"Alright," The bartender seems disinterested. He hits a button, and lights around the bull flash like a carnival. I draw the attention of the whole bar as a pre-recorded announcer calls me a brave challenger.

Big men with fat beer bellies gather around, and I readjust my top. If I play my cards right, I might get more than a coconut margarita out of this. I'm not wearing anything too special—just one of my combat scoop-neck tees and low-rise daisy dukes. The bartender offers his hand, and I use it to mount the big plastic bull.

"You ready, little girl?" He asks

"Yes sir." I grip onto the handle at the 'bull's nape and a bell rings. Slowly the bull starts lurching forward and back while exciting music bounces around the bar.

one Mississippi

The bull speeds up

'ride it, cowgirl!" Derek yells from the edge of the bull enclosure

two Mississippi

It starts going sideways

three Mississippi

I fake with my appearance that I'm struggling and readjust my grip

four Mississippi

I use my hips to grind with the rhythm of the bull as men whoop and cheer

five Mississippi, six Mississippi

My heart starts to thump against my ribs

Seven Mississippi, I win.

The team cheers for me. I keep going, getting bold enough to grind more dramatically. I hear more whoops and hollers as I lift my arms and squee. Someone yells, and another man whistles. I hold onto my hat as the bull speeds up, and I feel my shirt lift.

'Yeehaw!' I hear, and the bar just erupts. I feel so full of life, and I jump up on the bull, riding it like a surfboard. I drop down and sit backward on the bull. I twist around and ride the bull until the bartender slows it down.

"You done broke our record. 39 seconds on the highest speed." The bar screams in glee, and the team closes in on me, handing out high fives. Reid hangs behind the group, and I see him ask Derek a question

"Did you know that (Y/n) has a stomach tattoo?"

"Wow (Y/n), that was incredible." Emily looks starstruck

"I told you I didn't pay for a drink for 18 months." I give JJ a hug, and Reid emerges from the crowd

"I guess I owe you a drink." He smiles, and I fidget with the hem of my shirt

"One coconut margarita, please, sir." He leads me to the bar, where the bartender makes one for me. I hold the glass up to his face, and Reid takes the first sip.

"No, that's fine," He pushes the glass from his cheek

"C'mon, you paid for it."

"Listen, you know that coercion isn't a great thing to do. Most serial killers are more coercive than a skeezy lawyer."

"Aw, you're using my metaphors." I coo and step closer to his chest

"When did you become so flirty?" he braces me on the hip

"All that shaking around must have got the beer movin' in me." I giggle and sip on my glass. "I saw you askin' Derek 'bout my tattoo. y' wanna see it?" I start to roll up my shirt

"No, no, that's fine," He holds my wrist to stop me. "Why don't we get you some water."

"No, this is yummy." I smile and down the cup. He grimaces at the action and tries to walk me over to our table

"Hey, Spencer, you wanna know why I'm so good at riding that thing?" I halt to play with the button of his shirt, and he stops, too.

"Uh sure," He swallows

"Ever the curious doctor," I slur. I'm good with the bull because I love riding," I whisper drunkenly in his ear. He swallows hard and tries to shimmy us back to our table. His hands shake as he grips my tricep.

"Why're you so nervous?" I ask the side of his jaw. My voice swings up an octave, but I snort as I survey the team.

"The liquor got to her quick. I'm gonna get her back to the hotel."

"Oooh, why don't you take me someplace fancy," I tease

"Well, make sure you use protection." Derek snorts as he lifts a brown bottle to his lips

"Aw, you ain't gotta worry. I've got an IUD." Spencer soothes my sentence with a pat on my shoulder, and I slide a hand down his back

"That won't be a problem. I'm just going to ensure she has water, Advil, and comfortable clothes." He jumps away as I make an attempt to grab his butt.

"You sure you don't want either of us to take her?" JJ offers and points between Emily and herself. I rest my head on his chest. I can feel his heart pounding against my temple.

"You gonna take good care of me, Doctor?" I smile up at his concerned face

"I'm not that kind of doctor." He scolds. He helps seatbelt me into one of two FBI SUVs. Slowly and carefully, he drives me to the highway motel we were placed in, and he marches me into my room.

"Alright, are you sober enough to shower?" He sits me on the bed, and the mattress shrieks beneath me

"Yeah, so long as you help me get my shirt off."

"No, I won't be doing that," He finds a glass and fills it with water. He digs in my go-bag and finds the bottle of Advil. He drops two in his hand and gives them to me as well as the cup. "Drink this," he tucks some hair behind his ears.

"My feet hurt," I whine and put the pills in my mouth.

"Well, you're wearing those ridiculous boots," He stressfully tucks some hair behind his ears

"They ain't ridiculous." Stick out a foot and twist it to see the whole design, "Maybe a little flashy." I tuck my foot in and look up at him. "Will you calm down if you held me out of these sugar?"

"Yeah, sure." He kneels down and tugs each of my boots off, and lines them up with the rest of my shoes.

"Aww, you're so caring. C'mere sugar." Reluctantly, he finds me on the mattress, and I pat it next to me. He's hesitant, but he sits, and I lean against him. "Hey, Spencer?"

"Yes, (Y/n)?"

"You wanna ask about my tattoo?"

"No,"

"Really, because you keep glancing down at my stomach. I may be a drunk one, but I am a profiler. What about it? Gets you going so much?"

"What?" He scoffs in shock "It doesn't 'get me going'." I hold onto his arm

"Really? Because I'm pushin' my tits against you, and you're still lookin' at my stomach."

"I uh I'm not." He's distracted enough that I can swing my legs across his lap "(Y/n), this is really inappropriate conduct for coworkers."

"I ain't on the clock," I slowly drag my shirt up to reveal the design. Two big blossoms of overlapping lavender and olive flowers. Any protests he tries to make are halted as he studies the image.

"These ones, "I guide his apprehensive hand as hi pointer finger traces my stomach "Are olive blossoms, they stand for peace. and these are lavenders."

"They mean feminity and grace." He clears his throat

"I've got more," I whisper playfully

"C-can I see them?" He swallows. I cross my arms at the hem of my shirt and pull it off, lifting the hem of my bralette.

"There's some text under my boobs."

"te amo para siempre." He reads without an accent, so it sounds stilted. "Did you get that for a boyfriend?"

"No, it's something my grandpa used to tell me." he runs his thumb over the cursive, "And on my collarbones." I guide his wrist to my right clavicle.

"'An eye for an eye,' I guided him across my chest, and he traced like he was reading braille.' leaves the whole world blind.' He connected his eyes with mine. His pupils were real big.

"Aw gee, I just realized I'm a little underdressed."

"Of course," he shifts around to encourage me to get off

"Uh uh, it could be you're just overdressed," I hold onto the knot in his tie

"No (Y/n),"

"You know, darling, your mouth is saying no, but your body is saying yes." I slide my hips forward and feel him suppress a shudder. I direct his head to look at me with blown-wide puppy dog eyes. "Maybe we should tell your mouth to let your body take over." I sink my lips against him, and he melts into me. Our lips smack as he pulls away

"(y/n), no, this isn't professional," he tries to disable my arms as I slide his tie knot apart

"Well, that's good. If I were professional, you get a hotel in a local jail for soliciting a prostitute." I get the knot loose and free his neck, making headway on the buttons. He shiftsbutI kiss his complaints away. Soon, sounds of complaint turn to moans as he succumbs to his body.

"Hey, Spencer," I pull away briefly and chew on my lip at the view. His hair is fluffed, and the top half of his shirt is flipped open. "I've got one more tattoo, and I think you'd really like it."

"I would?" he pushes his hair back "Why." I give him a peck as I reach for the button on my shorts. He grabs my hand and undoes the button himself. I guide his hand to the zipper, and he tugs it down. Instead of shimmying out of the shorts, I hook his finger in the elastic of my underwear. He pulls it down just enough to read the black text that slowly faded to show green.

"C6H12O6?"

"Yeah, you remember what that means?"

"It's the chemical formula for sugar." He snaps the underwear back into place, and I jump at the sensation, "Why?"

"Because I'm so sweet." I dive back in and kiss him. Heated aggressively like he's got the last cup of water on his tongue. He reaches into my hair to steady me, and with his second hand, he grabs my hip. I continue to unbutton his shirt until he shores it off into the distance.

"Well, look how handsome you are," I watch him blush, but I run my hands up his chest and over his collarbones. He blushes but guides my hand to his belt buckle. I love the sound a belt buckle makes. Before I can get his pants off him, Spencer surprises me. He picks us up and twists us, so my back slaps against the squeaky mattress.

He slithers down my body, kissing down the various tattoos. Gently, he slides his fingers into the waistband of my jeans. He slides them down and separates each of my knees. Almost entranced he licks up the gray cotton panties I wore.

"Spencer!' I moan in shock

"Please, this is my favorite part." He pulls the underwear off and tosses it to the side. I don't protest any further. It's rare to find a guy willing to go down on me, much less one that initiates. He wraps his arms around my thighs and places my knees at his shoulders. He wastes no time diving in.

With every man I've slept with, I've never felt someone go down on me with such fervor and skill. I'm taken down. He clings onto my clit with desperation. He drops my right leg so that he can trace gentle circles around my pussy.

"Spenc- Uh"

"Sh-sh -shh, just relax." He soothes me and rubs my inner thigh. I try to look down at him, but as he continues his ministrations, I lose my strength and flop my head back. Slowly, he sinks his pointer finger in, and I take a sharp inhale.

"Spe-EUUh!" His skill is shocking as he slowly moves his finger in and out. Once I was acclimated, he pulled out and put both his pointer and middle in. I do my best to suppress it for the comfort of the surrounding guests.

"Don't hide from me." He comes up and looks my face over

"There's other people around, Spencer."

"Then let them hear." He places a kiss on my forehead and sinks down to continue devouring me. I don't hold back as much as I'm embarrassed. He starts a 'come hither' motion and I roll my hips up into his face. He braces a hand on my hip.

"Sit still." He commands

Steadily, I felt a climax rising in me. I felt the muscles in my stomach clenching and tensing. I feel like yellow waves of pleasure ripple through my body.

"SPE—Spencerr, I'm gonna!" I desperately reached around and threaded my fingers into his hair. With my other hand, I felt around for the disheveled comforter. I balled my hands into a fist around what I held: his hair and the blanket. I climaxed faster than I had expected. Accidentally, I locked Spencer in with my legs. Desperate to keep the pleasure close to me.

It took me a moment to catch my breath. When I came to, I released my legs, and he resurfaced, wiping his mouth as he checked on me.

"How are you doing? Was that any good?"

"Good?" I gaped, and I saw him crumble a little in insecurity. Spencer, that was the best head I've ever had." He chuckled boyishly as I held his pants so he lay on top of me.

"Spencer?" I ask slowly

"Yeah," He kisses me on the side of the mouth

"I'm gonna fuck you now,"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," I sit him up and unzip his pants and pull them down. His legs are ridiculously long, and it feels like an eternity to get him naked. I geek at his boxers. His cock is jumping against the fabric, and there is a small precum stain. I rub over the fabric, and he keens into my touch.

"Aww, so you're all talk," I tease

"S-shut up, you were just writhing under me." He leans back on his arms. The veins in his forearms are bulging, and I can see his stomach shift as he shifts under my pawing.

"Yeah, and now you will be."

I slide my fingers under the elastic, and he lifts his hips to help me free him. Gently, I stroke him, and he gulps back and moans. I mount him, letting Spencer guide himself into me. I sigh as I feel him slide in, and his hands gravitate to my hips.

"Woah," he grunts. It's probably the strangest reaction I've gotten, but I appreciate being such a stunner.

"How are you doing, Reid?"

"I-I'm sublime. How are you?" I shift my hips in contemplation, feeling my eyes pool in the back of my head.

"Oh, I'm doing-g just-" My sentence cuts itself off as the head of his dick kisses a sweet spot inside me. "Can you just give me a little boost?" He holds each of my hips and drags me across my lap.

"Oh fuck," I sigh, and I pick my hips up. We fall into a sensual rhythm as the world disappears around us. "Spencer, that feels so..." My forehead collapses against his collarbone. There's something about his dick that itches a scratch I didn't know I was feeling. Similarly, he mews below me.

"(Y/n)," he groans out below me "Don't stop." and I don't. Instead, I pick up the pace. I brace myself on his shoulders and slam my hips back and forth until my thighs burn. And when the sensation becomes overwhelming I keep fighting.

"Oh my- uh," He groans beneath me "(Y/n), (Y/n), I'm gonna cum." He sounds desperate. "(Y/n) you have to get off." He whimpers

"No, I'm gonna cum too. I won't-" I keep my hips galloping against his thighs, "PLEase- fuck, I'm gonna." I feel his cock twitch inside me, and warmth spreads through my thighs.

"Uh, nice and deep." I halt myself for a second," Spencer I gotta keep going."

"M'kay." I ride with such speed that I'm scared the legs on the bed will snap. Finally, I feel the point of no return—like watching a slow vase fall over, knowing you're too far away to stop it. I came. My knees buckled, and I fell chest-first onto Reid.

"Are you okay?" He holds my back steady and gently rubs my spine, and I catch my breath.

"Yeah, I'm okay." I sit myself up, and Spencer tucks some frizzy hair behind my ear. "Probably some of the sex I've had in... ever." His face lights up. I use his shoulder to stand up, and I feel it slide down my thigh.

"I'm gonna need a shower, but there's always room for two." I smile and trot off to the ensuite. It's not long before Spencer is chasing me behind the vinyl curtain to wet his hair and press a kiss to the back of my shoulder.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #the south #mechanical bullride #smut

[kquil]

REMUS LUPIN | 16:63 ⏤BABY FEVER

SUM. : you and remus meet an adorable baby while grocery shopping

TAGS. : husband remus ; wife reader ; modern au ; muggle au ; married au ; baby fever ; mentions of birth control ; honeymoon phase ; domestic fluff

LENGTH : 0.6k

NOT PROOFREAD OR EDITED

You and Remus were doing your weekly shop, list in hand as he pushed the shopping cart beside you. It’s a peaceful routine the two of you got into after making it official and moving in together. Every Friday, after the two of you got off work, he’d pick you up and you’d both go grocery shopping for the upcoming week.  

“Should we buy welsh cakes or make them ourselves?” you mutter aloud as Remus chuckles beside you. 

“You mean ‘or you make them’, you know I’m useless around ovens,” he presses an affectionate kiss against your temple and smiles at the giggle it draws from your pretty lips — music to his ears. People said it was impossible to stay in the honeymoon phase of your relationship for so long but you and Remus debunked all of that. From a distance, the two of you still looked like newlyweds. 

“I suppose I have some time to make a few batches after we get home today,” you smile at your husband, “we can have some before tea,” 

“Sounds like a plan, dove,” Remus agrees and, as you add a small bag of self-raising flour to your cart, you hear a cry to your right and turn to see a baby perched in the cart seat, reaching its small pudgy hands down for a small dog plush they must have dropped. To the left of the baby, you saw, who you assumed was the child’s mother softly ask what the matter was, her brows furrowed from worry. It appears as though she didn’t see that her child had dropped their toy. 

Before you could take action, Remus was already handing the small plush back to the child, “here you go,” he whispers softly, “no more tears now,”

The mother flashed a smile at your husband, “Thank you so much,” she then turned to her child, “let’s say thank you to the kind man, darling,” she took the child’s small wrist and made them wave at you and Remus, who moved to stand beside you with an adoring smile on his face. Seeming to understand what their mother was asking of them, the baby gives a gummy grin with the few teeth they had as their eyes disappear behind their pudgy, flushed cheeks. At this, the mother gave one final grateful smile before moving on with her shopping, her baby hugging their beloved plush to their chest. 

“How cute,” Remus mutters, smiling and waving a final goodbye at the baby as he gradually begins to realise how quiet you’ve been. 

“Remus…” he looks at you with soft eyes as yours become rounded when looking up at him, they sparkled with want as you push your bottom lip out into a pout. It’s a look he’s familiar with; it’s the one you always pulled when you wanted something so he’s quick to anticipate any request you wanted to make.

“Yes, dove?”

“I want a baby,” 

“A–...” speechless, Remus stares at you with his jaw slackened and his eyes wide. A heat crawls up his neck and floods his cheeks as he stiffens in the hopes that the tightening of his pants weren’t just his imagination, “a…a baby?...”

“Yeah…” your whining voice makes a heat pool in his lower abdomen and, just when he thought you couldn’t make things worse, your arms wrap around his torso to squeeze him close. He looks down with red cheeks as you place your chin on his chest and continue pouting, “I want a baby now!”

“D-Dove— we can’t–”

“Why not?” 

“..y-you’re on birth control–!”

“I’ll get off it,” you quickly reply, grinning up at him like the little minx you are. He knows that you can see the profound effect your statement has on him, “please, honey~” like all of your requests before, Remus can’t say no to you. 

He’ll give you a baby and he’s not going to wait for you to get off birth control. 

NAVI.

A/N : i'm dying from a horrible flu and fever but i had to write this before i lost the inspiration to, again, this was inspired by tiktok XD i hope you darlings enjoy! i'll try to get better as soon as possible so i can get back to writing again ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝

TAGLIST : @rosalyn-s @melinajenkins @aastonishment @until-i-found-you @corp0real @celestcies @lovelydoveval @inlovewithremusjohnlupin @calums-betch @futurecorps3 @hihihi1112 @simpingforthe80s @yrluvjane @neeezza101 @chaosofmanyfandoms @storyofaromance @loving-and-dreaming @somewereinthegalaxi @chullu-bhar-paani

#remus lupin imagine #remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus x reader #remus lupin fluff #remus fluff #remus lupin fic #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin x you #☽ : timestamp

[rottenaero]

Saw someone say El gets found by Wayne instead of Mike and the gang to which I say hell yeah.

Waynes working late at the plant when hears these noises coming from the woods, then a girl with a shaved head rushes out to grab his coworkers sand which they’d forgotten about hours ago.

She dirty, wearing a hospital gown, and he approaches her. Asks if she has a place, and she’s so fidgety that he’s shocked she hasn’t run away. She must see something to trust in him because when he asks if she wants some real hot food, she says yes.

He grabs an extra coat from his trunk so she can cover up and brings her through a drive through, lets her eat her food in the back while drives back to the trailer. It reminds him of Eddie, when his father had first gone to jail. His hair was buzzed and he was cagey, but was quick to pick through his burger and fries.

He brings her home, learns her name is Eleven, and Eddie meets her. He’s excited to meet her an quickly gives her the nickname El which just sticks. She warms up to the pretty quickly.

About a week after she first gets there, Steve Harrington shows up, trying to get weed for Tommy because the fuckers to lazy to get it himself.

She pokes her head out of Eddie’s room and sees him. She immediately comes out. “Shit,” Eddie mutters, “El, just stay in there another minute.” But she doesn’t, she goes straight up to Steve and just stares.

“Pretty…Pretty hair.” Steve beams, and crouches down to her level. “Thank you. Wanna touch it?” He asks. She nods enthusiastically, starry eyed as she reaches out and runs her hands through it.

“Didn’t know you had a little sister, Munson.” He raises a brow between the two. Eddie doesn’t reply, just stares at the sight.

“I- Uh, yeah.”

“You don’t,” Steve starts, pauses. El’s still playing with his hair when he continues. “You don’t smoke anything around her, right?”

Eddie is quick to shake his head, “Jesus! No Harrington, I only do it when I’m out of the house.”

El pauses. “..Harrington? You are Steve then.”

Steve nods, and Eddie’s are blown wide mouthing nononono, “Yeah, why?”

“He talks about you sometimes.” She shrugs, and pulls away, before looking up at the long-haired guy who looked embarrassed.

“Eggos.” She states. He nods, “Alright, Harrington, the goods, they might take a minute.”

“Dude, are you serious? It’s like 3pm.”

“So? The girl wants Eggos, why not?”

“Because it’s not healthy?” He sighs, gets up, and walks into the kitchen like he owns it. He opens the fridge door, and the freezer. “Do you have panko crumbs and cooking oil?”

He approaches, and leans against the bar, a bit hunched so he doesn’t knock down a hanging mug with his head. “It’s a no on the panko, but we’ve got some veggie-oil.”

Steve grabs eggs and chicken from his fridge and setting them on the counter, and begins opening random cabinets. He gets to the one with the food and grabs half-eaten lays chips, flour, and oil. “Got any seasoning?”

“Dude, what are you even doing?” He asks, El comes up beside him and jumps onto the counter. Steve opens another cabinet and grabs a couple seasonings. “Cooking real food.”

“Well aren’t you a little house-wife.” He snorts as Steve takes a pan off a nearby hook and puts it on the stovetop. His eyes widen, “Oh wait, you’re serious?”

“Uh,” Steve fills it with a little bit of oil, “Duh?” He gets a couple bowls out, cracks some eggs into one, another he puts flour and some other shit into.

He pushes the bag of lays to El, “Can you crunch all of these into tiny pieces?” Before going back to whatever he was doing.

In the end, the chicken tastes good. El loves it, and when Steve leaves she mourns him.

“I like him. He’s nice.”

Steve starts coming over everyday, usually during lunch but sometimes dinner, and makes them foods.

She meets the party who are looking for Will when Steve suggests she meet some friends from Hawkins, and introduces her to Nancy’s little brother.

Eventually, they all get sucked into the upside down when Eddie learns she has powers, and Steve fights the demo-gorgon.

Then El disappears and they’re all super upset, and when they found out that’s she was alive they’re pissed.

She still loves Hopper, but she also loves Wayne so they do weekend swaps and shit.

Steve starts greeting Eddie at school, hanging out with him sometimes. Eddie notices how he doesn’t let anyone touch his hair, but the way that anytime El asks he’ll gladly let her.

Idk, I think it’s sweet. Wayne gets another kid he adores, Eddie as her lame-but-cool-to-her older brother, and Steve as the babysitter, not just for her but Eddie too, because he’s also not allowed Eggos at 3pm are you fucking kidding me??

El is at Hoppers the week the whole star court thing happens and him and Wayne goes to pick her up and she’s sobbing, and Steve’s got his face beaten in.

When Joyce suggests she being El with her to California, Eddie doesn’t want her too, but Wayne thinks it’s best so they hug goodbye.

Steve still drops by everyday.

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #el hopper #wayne munson #jim hopper #eleven stranger things #steddie #eddie munson x steve harrington #steve harrington x eddie munson #stranger things ficlet #steddie ficlet #crisisinverted17

[pholla-jm]

Red String

IMAGINE: RED STRING ~ LUFFY X READER GENRE: FLUFF cw: soulmate au! luffy is a bit ooc. *************

The day when a red string attached itself to his left pinky, he didn’t really care for it. Luffy didn’t have time for finding his soulmate, or even having time for a soulmate. He had a mission- to become the King of the pirates.

Most of the time he ignored it. However, when he was bored he would tug on the string, swing it around, or try to tie it to things. Sometimes he would get annoyed that the string wouldn’t come off. 

Most days, he doesn’t even realize that it’s there. 

Until one day, the string tugged, and tugged hard. Tugged so hard that it jerked his hand downwards. 

This has never happened before, and he was confused as to why it happened. What did it mean? 

“You ready, captain?” His crewmate, Robin asks him. 

He looked up at her, noticing that she was holding a bag on her shoulder. That’s right, they were leaving the ship. Going on an adventure on this new island. 

Excitement fills his veins, and he only takes one glance at his left pinky before looking back at Robin with a large grin. The red string is now long forgotten and he is not worried by the slight movement. 

However, Robin notices the glance that Luffy casts down at his hand. Robin is smart, and it didn’t take her long to figure out what he was looking at. She has seen Luffy play with the string multiple times. Granted, she couldn’t see the string but it sure looked strange whenever he played with air. 

“Yeah! Let’s go!” He shouts before he jumps off the ship. 

It isn’t long until the both of them were walking through town, looking for food since his stomach was rumbling. 

Suddenly he got a whiff of something delicious. It smelled warm and sweet, he was immediately drawn to the source of the smell. 

Luffy was soon standing in front of a small building. The windows were open, and it was clear that the source of the smell was coming from the small building. He bursts through the doors, ready to devour it all. 

However, he stops short when he goes through those doors. The string on his pinky felt tighter and it was like his sight zeroed in on the person in front of him. 

The person who’s hair was tied up, and out of the way. Wearing an apron over simple clothes that were lightly dusted with flour. 

“Hi, welcome-” Your voice stops when you feel the tug on your pinky and your vision zeroes in on him.

You already knew what this meant, but for some reason this made you nervous. 

You cough slightly, trying to ease any nerves that coursed through your body. 

“Welcome, how can I help you today?” 

Luffy blinks a couple of times, processing the words that you had just said. He didn’t know what to do in this situation. How were you going to react? 

Robin tilts her head, looking at the two of you. A small smile makes a way on her face as she realizes what is happening.

“Can we have two of everything, please?” She spoke up and you were taken back. “Two of everything?” “Yes please.” 

“Right! Of course.” You walk around the counter, starting to grab the pastries. “Oh, togo or for here?” 

“Here, please.” Robin says with a smile and pushes Luffy over to one of the two tops. “Of, course. It’ll be out shortly.” “Thank you.” 

“Are you okay, Captain?” Robin asks. “Huh? Yeah! Why wouldn’t I be?” Robin giggles, “well if I didn’t know better. I would say that person over there… is your soulmate.” 

Luffy’s eyes widen, and a slight blush covers his ears. Was he being that obvious? 

“Here we go. Two of everything.” Their conversation is interrupted when you bring them their desired pastries.

You lingered by the table, unsure of what to do. Should you say something? Make the first move? No, that’s too embarrassing. 

“Uh, I hope you enjoy.” You mutter before scurrying to the back. You put a hand over your chest, trying to calm down your racing heart. Why were you so nervous? 

Well you knew why you were so nervous. You always wondered what your soulmate would be like. You wondered if he was a kind person. Would he even like you? 

You suddenly hear a shout. It wasn’t one of panic, but one of joy. 

You peek around the corner, “is everything okay?” slight worry traced in your voice. 

The boy looks at you with wide eyes and a large smile on his face, “these are so good!” He shouts holding up one of the pastries. 

You smile at him, “thank you.” “Did you make these yourself?” He asks. 

His question washes away the nervousness and you're soon making your way to him.  

“Yes! I made them myself. It’s my own recipe, and I have more recipes I’m working on as well.” You start to ramble on, a little embarrassed because you tend to fangirl over baking. “Can I try them?!” “Of course! I would be honored if you liked them.”

Luffy starts to laugh, happy that you were willing to give him more of your delicious pastries. 

However, it dawned on him that he wasn’t going to be staying on the island long. And he really wanted to try more of your food. 

“You should join my crew then!” “Huh? You’re crew?” “Yeah! I’m gonna be the king of the pirates!” 

You were silent for a while. Thinking about what you should do. You didn’t have any family on this island, and nothing wasn’t holding you back. Except for one thing, 

“Well… I’m not strong enough to join the future king of pirates.” Luffy’s smile falters a little bit. Sure he needed his crew to be strong, but he didn’t really care if you were strong or not. He just knew that he needed you by his side. 

It might be the fact that you were supposed to be soulmates, but the strong urge to have you by his side was just too strong.

“Don’t worry about that! You’ll always be safe on my crew.” 

His words caused your heart to skip a beat. You didn’t know him, but you trusted the words that came out of his mouth. “Yeah… yeah, okay! I’ll join.” 

Luffy’s grin is as big as ever now. 

“Can I have the name of the future king of the pirates?” “My name is Monkey D. Luffy.” “(l/n)(y/n). It’s a pleasure to meet you.” You say with a slight bow of your head. 

Luffy looks down at his pinky, seeing the red string now tied in a bow. He looks over to your hand, seeing the same thing. He never thought this day would come, but he is happy that it finally came.

#oneshot #one piece #one piece x reader #luffy x reader #luffy x y/n #op x reader #op #luffy fluff #monkey d. luffy x reader #luffy x you

[flynnriderishot]

I have a request for vinnie fic, where the two of you are at that stage in your relationship were your just playfully bullying each other?? thank you

it’s love, not bullying - v.h

“vincent!”

from the bedroom, vinnie stifled a laugh, calling out to you,

“yeah, babe?”

“get in here, now!”

you could hear his feet dragging across the floor as he ran towards you,

“what’s up?”

“my snacks.” you wittily clapped back, “why’d you put them so high?”

“because you can’t reach it.”

“and that’s funny to you?” you placed your hands on your hips.

“no, but you called for me, didn’t you?” you asked, leaning over you to grab the bag of chips, “i like hearing you say my name.”

•••

you stood with your phone propped up against the paper towel holder in your kitchen.

what was meant to be your weekly tiktok post, turned into you standing still as your boyfriend jokingly threw air punches towards you.

“oooh, if you would’ve moved, you would’ve been knocked out.”

the look on your face was one you could only describe as contently unbothered.

“why must you bully me?”

“it’s love, not bullying.”

you stared into the camera with a blank expression until vinnie’s arm gently wrapped around your neck and pulled you towards him.

you screamed slightly before laughing, doing what you could to break from his hold.

“let me go!”

“the more you fight it, the more it’ll hurt!” he warned you.

you knew he was joking, his hold was anything but harmful, your laugh was enough to prove that.

after few seconds of fighting, vinnie let you go, smiling down at you as you breathed heavily.

the laugh that escaped your lips can straight from the heart. one your viewers would definitely put in yours and vinnie’s top ten moments, “this was supposed to be a thirst trap.”

•••

vinnie stood in front of the stove, the only thing covering his body being a pair of plaid pants that matched your own, though you were wearing a crop top with it.

your boyfriend had the idea to make you breakfast before you woke up, completely unaware that you woke the minute he kissed your forehead before he got out of bed.

you lazily made your way towards him, rubbing your eyes as you did.

vinnie hummed softly to himself as he flipped a pancake.

he jumped at the feeling of your cold hands wrapping around his torso.

“jesus! you scared the hell out of me.”

“sorry.” you mumbled, kissing the skin of his back softly to add onto your apology.

“how’d you sleep?”

“good. you woke me up when you left.”

vinnie frowned, “i’m sorry, baby.”

you simply hummed.

vinnie thought nothing if it, thinking you were just too tired to talk. that is, until he noticed your hand moving towards the flour he was using to make the pancake batter.

“yn?”

“hmm?”

“stop it.”

“i’m not going anything.” you giggled, tightening your hold on his waist to keep him from moving. you knew your strength was no match for him, but you still did it.

“put your hand down.”

“huh?” you furrowed your brows.

he went to repeat himself, “put your—“

vinnie was cut off by you tossing a hand full of flour at his face.

you mouth fell in shock, your laughter filling the house, “i didn’t mean to do that much. i’m sorry.”

“it’s okay.” vinnie shrugged it off, turning the stove off as he wiped his eyes.

“i’m sorry, vin.” you began to feel bad.

“it’s okay, baby. can you help me get this off?”

“yeah, of course.”

just as you moved to help him, vinnie’s hand entered your line of vision as he tossed some flour at you.

you gasped loudly as vinnie cackle.

“oh, you bitch!”

vinnie let out a shocked sound as you chased him around the house. the sound of your shared laughter was far too loud for it to only be 8am, but at this point, the noise complaint would be worth it.

#vinnie hacker blurb #vinnie hacker imagine #vinnie hacker #vinnie hacker fluff #vinnie hacker x reader

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

the dead ringer

buttercup, chapter three

a/n: yeah, this did happen to me in real life, although it happened on a bus so i couldn't immediately get away... ANYWAYS! enjoy this hurt/comfort heavy chapter!

summary: “I think I know something that might help a bit.”

warnings: matt murdock x baker!reader, neighbours to lovers, rape recovery, ptsd, crying, panic attacks, matt using his superpowers for the sake of hurt/comfort, boxing

word count: 2057

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

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Drizzling the flour into the wide bowl, like a dusty snowfall, you watched the number on the scale carefully as you neared the desired number. Though just before you hit it, Walter’s head suddenly poked in through the doorway leading behind the counter and interrupted you and Howard’s all-too-important discussion on what the day’s music choice should be. 

“Hey, Y/n? There’s someone here to see you.”

Laying down the scoop still holding a bit of flour, you dragged your palms down the brown apron tied around your frame and exited the kitchen. A bright smile spread across your face and crinkled up your gaze as you spotted who was standing on the other side of the counter. 

“Matt, hey–, oh my god,” you then suddenly noticed the bruising that blossomed out from under his tinted glasses and stretched up over the patched-up scrape that split his left brow, “what happened? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, just wasn’t paying attention last night, tripped and fell, that’s all,” he waved a hand, “I just wanted to stop by on my way to work, get a round of coffees to-go for everyone and perhaps some breakfast for myself, just whatever you think I’d like.”

“You’ll let me pick?” your eyebrows rose slightly. 

But Matt simply smiled and said, “I trust your judgment,” his grip shifted gently on the cane standing tall before his chest. 

As you moved to make the coffees, “alright,” you drew out a pondering breath, “are you in the mood for something sweet or savoury?”

Thinking about it a second, he uttered, “savoury.”

“Do you like sandwiches?” you popped the lids on the to-go cups. When he nodded, you placed the coffees in a little cardboard tray, “okay, I think you’ll like this one,” grabbed a brown paper bag and moved further down the counter, “it’s made with focaccia and has pesto in it as well as some tomatoes and cheese and stuff.” 

“That sounds amazing.”

“I also–, you know what? I’ll be right back,” you then abruptly turned and momentarily disappeared into the kitchen, grabbing a few of the pillowy buns still on the cooling rack into a bag. As you returned, you also snuck a hand into the display case and stuffed a few other goodies into the sack, “just for the others, if they want,” you placed the bundle onto the counter beside the coffees, “I just pulled them out of the oven a bit ago and they’re still warm.”

“What is it?” Matt tilted his chin. 

“Uh, some raisin buns, but I also threw two croissants in there in case they didn’t like raisins...” 

A soft smile warmed his bruised features as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, “what do I owe you?”

“Oh no,” your hands waved lightly before you, “it’s on the house.”

“Y/n, come on,” he cocked his head. 

“Fine,” you light-heartedly sighed, “if you really wanna sing for your supper, then I’ll cash it in at a later date. I don’t know, maybe if I get arrested someday or something you could help me out.”

“You don’t have to bribe me with free baked goods for that.”

“No, but it sure doesn’t hurt, does it?” you chuckled. 

“No,” he joined in as he reached for the bags, “I guess it doesn’t.”

“You want some help carrying it?” you asked, hope seeping through your tone, “I could take my break and walk with you the rest of the way.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, we just got through the morning rush, they’ll be fine without me for–, I don’t know, 15 minutes or however long it’ll take to walk to your office and back.”

“Alright, thanks,” he smiled, one paper bag hooked in the fingers that also clutched the cane.  

“I’m just gonna go grab my jacket, one second,” you said before ducking into the back to do so, letting your uncles know as you slipped out of your comfortable work clogs and into your sneakers. 

You ended up dividing the load, with you carrying the coffees and the last bag in one arm, though a few protests left you at first, begging him to let you carry all of it, they melted away as his free hand enveloped yours. 

When you reached his office, your arms wrapped around his frame as you hugged him long enough for your heartbeats to sync up, and just as you pulled away, his wide palms still warm on your back, you leaned in and planted a brief peck on his scruffy cheek. 

One of his hands swept up to meet the side of your face as your lips retracted. You pulled back so slowly that you weren’t sure you were moving at all, being drawn in by his warmth like a moth to a flame. 

His nose gently grazed against yours as he let himself linger, but just as your eyes fluttered shut in expectance that he’d kiss you, his warmth withdrew and he slowly breathed, “have a good day.” 

In a matter of seconds, you had gone from giggling, glancing down at some silly joke on your phone as you walked home, to panic instantly kicking in as a passerby’s voice pierced your soul and made your blood run cold.

Glancing around, you saw a stranger standing off to the side and yapping into his phone. It wasn’t him, it wasn’t Michael, but it sounded exactly like him, so much so that the tone sent your body right back to that very night as if no time had passed at all.

Willing your body to move, forcing it to conquer the short rest of the way home, once your front door shut behind you and your quiet apartment consumed you, painful sobs began to burst out of your trembling frame. Hyperventilating, you crashed into the nearby wall of the entryway directly across from the door, incapable of getting deeper into your home. 

Soon, a quiet and surprising knock found your door. 

“Y/n?” the worried tone of your neighbour sounded from the other side. 

Your shaky voice came out no louder than a whisper, “M-Matt?” 

There might not have been any other instances you could recall where accidentally forgetting to lock your door turned out for the better, because when Matt then tried the handle, it gently complied. 

Shutting it behind him, he rushed to you, “hey, hey,” he uttered softly, a hand soothingly finding your arm, “what’s going on?”

Attempting an answer, “I–, I–,” only incoherent sobs managed to seep from you. 

“Okay, alright,” he sucked in a controlled breath, one of his hands sliding up to the strap of your backpack, “how about we start by getting all the way inside, huh?” gently gliding it off you and resting the bag on the floor. 

You let yourself lean into him fully as he supported you on the short journey towards the couch. Wobbly taking a seat, his touch left you as he settled beside you.

Spine curving, you buried your puffy face in your trembling hands, letting the whole world drift away as small lakes were birthed within your palms from your pain. 

When the sobs eventually began to subsite, growing further and farther apart, your frame slowly unfurled. Instinctively flicking your hands before your form, you tried to physically shake even a fraction of the excruciating sensation off of you, but without success. 

Matt hadn’t moved an inch, simply stayed there right beside you. 

When your quiet voice eventually filled space, it came out broken and overflowing with emotion, “I thought it was him… it wasn’t, b-but it sounded exactly like him… I’ve done double takes every time I saw a stranger with the same haircut or felt nauseous every time I encountered the same name, but this really did sound like him. Same voice, same accent, same everything… but it wasn’t him… it wasn’t… it just sent me right back, you know?”

Hesitantly, you grasped his hand in yours, expecting the contact to only make it worse, to somehow taint and ruin his wonderful and soothing touch, but it didn’t, he didn’t. It was Matt. 

Trying to regain control of your breathing, you shakily sucked in deep breaths, feeling your gulps of air slowly become calmer and migrate from the very top of your chest, down to expand your sore stomach. Eyes only half open and utterly exhausted, you noticed that your head was now leaning against Matt’s shoulder. 

Glancing hazily down at yourself, you muttered, “fuck… I still have my shoes and jacket on…”

Reaching down, he offered, “here,” before sliding your coat off, resting it on the back of the couch, and leaning down to pull your shoes off. 

Curling your legs up onto the couch, the shift in your position offered you more relief than you’d expected. As you attempted to get as comfortable as you possibly could in the state you were in, you snatched up Matt’s hand once more. 

Offering your palm a soothing squeeze, he asked quietly, “what do you need, huh? What can I do?”

“I–…” you thought, your brain just as drained as your body was, “I don’t know… maybe–… maybe just be here a bit?”

Exhaling lowly, he flashed you a faint smile, “of course.”

Glancing down at his fingers, sweeping across your own, you said, “hey, Matt? Could you maybe–, uh… could you give me a hug?”

Not hesitating, his strong arms engulfed your quivering frame and a fresh wave of sobs swiftly bubbled out of you as he held you tight, though your cries didn’t push him away, he stayed steadfast, embracing you close till the eruption ultimately simmered down, leaving you nearly asleep against his tear-stained shoulder. 

As he gently lowered you down to lay on the couch, you tightened your grip on his shirt as he began to pull back, ushering him to sink down as well, allowing you to curl into his safe embrace and let slumber drift you away. 

When you finally stirred, the sun was nowhere to be seen. 

“Hey,” you blinked up at Matt still in the exact same spot as before. 

“Hey,” you replied groggily, “what time is it?” swiftly fishing your phone out of your pant pocket before Matt could conjure an answer, “oh, fuck… it’s nearly midnight… did you sleep as well?”

“Not really,” he shrugged, “maybe for a little bit, but no.”

“Oh…” you breathed, averting your gaze. 

“How are you feeling?” his thumb swiped your waist where his broad palm was planted. 

“…I don’t know…” you exhaled, “…exhausted… sad… angry… really fucking angry… so angry that it kinda scares me…” 

After a beat of silence, with only your woeful breaths filling the space, Matt then uttered, “I think I know something that might help a bit.”

Your gaze drifted from the faded paint on the walls to the worn punching bags as you and Matt sat on the edge of the central ring and his fingers worked at wrapping up your hands. 

“Do you come here a lot?” you asked, your vision gliding back to him. 

“From time to time,” he tilted his head slightly, “reminds me of my dad,” tucking the last end of the strip under the weave, securing it into place, he closed your hand into a fist and exhaled, “alright, you’re ready,” he adjusted your grip, briefly offering your wrist a squeeze as he said, “just remember to keep your wrist strong and your thumb right here,” he slid your finger down below your knuckles. 

You hadn’t gone into it with much hope, in fact, it was only out of your desperation just feel better that you even humoured the experiment. In the beginning, it did feel as silly as you’d imagined, nearly stopped completely, but at some point in the mess of it all, your punches grew more ferocious, they grew more brutal, and suddenly something inside of you snapped and unravelled. It wasn’t some magic pill, but the physical act did loosen something within you and gave away to a fresh release of sobs, though not the painful and unbearable kind you’d had to endure earlier. It was the kind that felt like relief. Even if it wasn’t permanent, in that very moment, you didn’t feel like you were drowning anymore. 

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

#lea’s writing #buttercup series #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock imagine #matt murdock fanfiction #matt murdock fanfic #matthew murdock imagine #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock x you #daredevil x reader #matt murdock series #matthew murdock x reader #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock angst #matt murdock hurt/comfort

[dancingtotuyo]

Part III

High Infidelity | Joel Miller X Female Reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Summary: You and Joel hull the kids to the beach for a much needed vacation. Things begin to change.

Tags: Tommy x Reader, Joel x Reader, Tommy's Wife Reader, infidelity, emotional affair, slow burn (as much as you can get for 5 chapters), Tommy goes to jail, Reader has had a child

Warnings: Tommy being a shitty husband & father, Father's day celebration, cursing, consumption of alcohol, emotional affair/cheating, some physical boundaries crossed. Pining

Notes: Y'all know the drill by now, thanks to my loves @janaispunk for beta reading and @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin for beta reading and providing me with some authentic prison information and inspiration, and @saradika-graphics for the dividers!

Words: 5273

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It’s June before you’re able to escape to the shore. You make it in just over 4 hours. It’s good timing considering the multiple bathroom stops you had to make. It’s a small house that probably hasn’t been renovated since Joel was there as a kid. It sits two blocks off the shore on stilts that make you feel secluded from the people that pass on the quiet street below, and when you stand on the porch, the salty sea breeze caresses your body as you let your eyes close. You can just make out the crash of ocean waves. You can feel the breeze carrying all your cares away.  

Nate and Sarah excitedly explore the inside of the house. Their muted enthusiasm floating through the walls makes you smile. You’re thankful for this, thankful for Joel.  

The sliding door opens and then shuts. You don’t move. It’s Joel. You know the sound of his footsteps, the way he moves through the world by heart. He settles against the railing, arm pressed against yours. 

A smile spreads across your lips as your eyes open, landing on his. He smiles back. “Hard to enjoy the view with your eyes closed, Darlin.” His deep baritone rumbles smoothly. You see it in him too, the way the breeze carries away the wear and worry of the world. 

“It’s peaceful out here.” 

He nods. “Yeah, it is.”

“We should probably get back in there before the kids break something.”

Joel nudges you with his shoulder. “Don’t jinx us like that.”

“Our two? Unsupervised? That’s asking for it.”

“Our two?” A playful glint glimmers in Joel’s deep brown eyes. “My daughter is perfectly well behaved. It’s your little menace that’s the bad influence.”

“Oh my four year old is the bad influence?” You cross your arms, doing your best to keep the smile at bay. 

“For sure- got his dad’s streak for mischief. My Sarah is a perfect angel.” He sticks his tongue out at you. 

You roll your eyes, slapping his shoulder, but you don’t have a good response. He’s not wrong. Nathaniel knows how to get into places he shouldn’t. “I seem to recall an incident involving a ten pound bag of flour that says differently.”

Joel chuckles at the memory. Nathaniel was barely a week old when Sarah shrieked in the kitchen only for you to find her and the kitchen dusted in white powder. You had cried upon seeing it, postpartum hormones raging. Joel had cleaned your entire kitchen top to bottom. 

“She felt so bad for making you cry,” Joel laughs. 

“I think I scared her.”

The door opens again. Sarah and Nathaniel break out, rushing for your legs and begging to go to the beach. 

You spend the next several days lazing on the sand, reading more than you have in years as you soak in the sun. The kids run around chasing seagulls and other creatures. Joel helps them catch waves on boogie boards. You both take them further out to ride the waves. Sarah’s arms clutch around Joel’s neck, and Nathaniel does the same to you. They build sandcastles and Joel digs holes big enough to bury them both. 

At night, the kids are out by 8 o’clock if not earlier allowing you and Joel to sit out on the deck and drink. Your skin is warm from the constant sun. Joel’s cheeks are tinged pink on your third evening, his chest rosier. The salty air works at his hair, bringing out curls. You like this version of him a lot. You like this version of yourself too. 

Your feet sit in his lap as he massages your legs and feet, calves worn out from lugging your belongings across the sand and back. He stares up at the sky, twilight bringing the first few stars with it. You sip your homemade margarita, Joel’s specialty, from a red solo cup. 

“I shoulda brought my guitar. Only thing that could make this moment better,” he says. 

You hum softly, shifting in your chair. “Wouldn’t be able to massage my feet if you had your guitar.”

He laughs, so easy, so relaxed. You can’t remember the last time things felt this good. “Don’t worry, you’d still get your massage.”

“Why didn’t you bring it?” You cock your head to the side. 

“Wouldn’t fit in the car, miss over packer.”

You roll your eyes softly kicking at him. “We’ve used everything I packed. Speaking of which, what do you want for breakfast tomorrow?” You take another sip of your drink. Joel finds a knot in your calf, working it out as you let out a slight hiss. 

Joel shrugs, carefully watching your reactions careful to inflict as little pain as possible. “Ask the kids.”

“It’s Father’s Day.”

“Kids like pancakes.” Joel sips from his own drink before returning to the knot.

“But you don’t.”

“Doesn’t matter what I like, Darlin.”

“Well, it does tomorrow.” You cross your arms. 

Joel sighs rolling his eyes. 

You narrow yours. “Don’t make me force it out of you. You know I will.”

He considers it a minute before deciding it’s a losing battle. “Those omelets you made for my birthday. I really liked those.”

You smile. “I can manage that.”

You sit in bed with Nathaniel the next morning to call Tommy. As early as possible is preferred, not that Tommy will care. He’s been blowing you off more, hardly talking when you call or visit, seemingly uninterested when you talk about Nate. It’s exhausting. You dread it, but you continue anyway. 

It takes a while before Tommy’s voice comes through the speaker. You force an exaggerated smile to your face for Nathaniel’s sake. Daddy is an abstract being to him. “Hey babe. Happy Father’s Day!”

“Oh… that’s today?”

You push back the annoyance rising inside you. “Nate wants to say hello.” You hold the phone up to your four-year-old’s ear.

“Hello?” he says. 

You can barely make Tommy’s pathetic response. He won’t even pretend for Nathaniel and that’s the unbearable part of all this. 

“Happy Day!” Nathaniel says, taking hold of the receiver before he dives into updating his stranger of a father all about their beach vacation. Tommy stays quiet the whole time. 

Rage begins to boil just under the surface. Before it can bubble over, Nathaniel says goodbye, shoving the phone into your chest and dashing out of the room the moment he hears Sarah moving around in the living room. 

“Tommy?”

“Look, I need to go.”

You're not sure what’s worse. The hurt or the anger inside you. “I love you.”

“Yeah. I’ll talk to you on Friday.”

“Tommy.” It sounds like a scold. That’s exactly what it is.

“I don’t have time for this.”

“Time for your wife and son?”

“You’re the one who called me.”

“Are you actually going to call on Friday? Or am I gonna end up sitting next to the phone all evening?”

You get silence. 

“Tommy?”

“I’ll call.” And then the line goes dead.

You want to scream or yell or cry or all three. You settle for throwing a pillow across the room and giving yourself 5 minutes to cry. There may only be three months of this left, but you’re not sure you’ll actually be talking to your husband at the end of it, not that the two of you do any talking now. 

Wiping your eyes, you make your way to the kitchen to start on Joel’s promised breakfast. Nathaniel and Sarah sit at the table comparing sea shells. “Aunt Bonnie?”

“Yes baby doll?” You smile, kissing her head. 

“Which one would Daddy like on his card?” She points to a collection of about 5 shells. 

“Hmmm,” you crouch down to her level, looking them over. “I think he would like any of them, but this one looks like him.” You point to a blue-grey shell. 

She picks it up, inspecting it carefully. “It does look kinda grumpy like him.”

You laugh. That isn’t what you meant, but she wasn’t wrong. “I’m making omelets. What do y’all want in yours?”

The kids are digging into their breakfast when Joel walks out of his room, arms stretching above his head to reveal a little sliver of his tummy. Sarah quickly shoves her Father’s Day project under some magazines. 

“Look who decided to wake up.” You smile over your shoulder. “Morning sleepy head.”

“One day of the year I get to sleep in.” He mumbles, shooting a teasing glare your way. He clocks your red eyes before you can turn away. 

“Happy Father’s Day, Daddy!” Sarah yells, standing on her chair to give Joel a hug. He chuckles, pulling her into his arms, spinning around, and setting her back on the chair with ease. She laughs.

“Thank you, baby girl.”

“Happy Day!” Nathaniel grins at his uncle.

“Father’s Day.” Sarah corrects. Nathaniel simply shrugs like he’d said the correct thing to begin with.

Joel chuckles, kissing his nephew’s cheek. “Thanks, Bud.”

You track his footsteps over to your side of the kitchen as you invest your full attention on the omelet in front of you. You know he caught your tear-stained eyes. “Fresh coffee in the pot,” You say, keeping your voice even. 

You feel his full body heat behind you, a hand falls to your waist as he reaches into the cabinet next to the stove for a coffee mug. Something settles in your stomach. 

“What did my idiot brother do now?” He keeps his voice low so the kids don’t overhear. 

You shake your head. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Darlin.”

“I don't want to talk about it.” Your head snaps toward him. He’s right there, face so close to yours. Always nearby. 

“You sure?”

You bristle a little bit. He drops his hand but stays in your space. “Not right now. We’re celebrating you this morning.” He smiles softly at you. “And I don’t want to burn your omelet, so scram.” You cock your head to the side. 

He waits a second, searching for any signs he’s missing something. When he’s sure he isn’t, he gives you a soft smile and a tender kiss on the forehead, and steps over to the coffee pot, leaving you feeling warm and hazy. 

The kids help clean up after breakfast. Sarah stands on a bench at the sink to wash dishes and Nathaniel waits patiently with a dish towel to dry the lighter dishes. You and Joel sit at the table, second and third cups of coffee in hand as you oversee their efforts. 

“I think I’m going to enjoy this next phase of parenting,” Joel says with a long, content sigh. 

You feel the easiness thrumming in your veins. Why couldn’t life always be this way? “Yeah if my anxiety about broken dishes or wet feet doesn’t get the better of me first.”

He chuckles softly, sipping from his mug as an easy silence falls between you. You watch the kids and Joel watches you. Sun pours through the many windows of the beach house. You’re not ready to leave tomorrow. 

“You wanna talk about it now?”

You sigh. “Not really. We’re supposed to be celebrating you today.”

“I’ll be able to enjoy myself more if I know what’s going on in your head.”

You keep your gaze focused on the kids, rolling the words around in your head. You feel emotionally exhausted by it all and you’re not even through the morning hours yet. 

“Darlin,” Joel kicks at your foot, smile on his face. “C’mon. We can talk about it.”

You set your mug down, turning toward him. “He’s just blowing us off again. I spent more time waiting for him to come to the phone than I did talking to him. He hardly interacted with Nate this morning.” You roll your eyes in an attempt to push away the tears pressing to escape. 

Joel reaches across the table, taking your hand. He runs his thumb over your knuckles. It grazes past your wedding band, almost taunting you now. 

“I’m sorry. This isn’t fair to either of you,” Joel says.

“You’d think I’d stop letting it affect me at some point.”

Joel bites his lip, eyes pinned to your ring finger. “He’s your husband. Needs to start acting like it,” Joel says gruffly. You catch the spark of something in his deep brown eyes, but you don’t have time to place it.

“We’re done!” Sarah exclaims with a proud smile, her shirt soaked through. 

You pull your hand from Joel’s, wrapping it around your warm mug as you laugh. “Thank you for your help. Both of you.” Nathaniel puts the dish towel carefully over the oven handle, shooting you the biggest grin.  

“Can we do presents now?” Sarah asks, curls bouncing with her. 

“Presents?” Joel says. “Y’all didn’t have to get me anything.”

“Don’t be silly, Daddy.” Sarah says, looking to you for permission. 

“I think now is a great time for gifts.”

Both kids run toward their shared room. They had been very excited at the promise of bunk beds. You ease out of your chair. “Not you too.” Joel shakes his head.

You shoot him a wink. “Suck it, Miller.” 

Flashes of your delayed Mother’s Day celebration jump between you. Joel had switched up the weekends and hadn’t been prepared, but had made up for it the following weekend. You hadn’t heard from Tommy. He never even mentioned it. 

You grab the small box from your suitcase, a small white bow tied around it. The four of you settle in the living room. You sit tucked into one end of the sofa while Joel sits at the other end, a bouncing kid on either side of him. 

“Me first!” Sarah says, handing her card and hand-wrapped gift to her father. 

Joel takes care, slowly reading the card out loud. His gift consists of a souvenir snow globe and a puca shell necklace. She picked them out with great care at the beach shop the two of you stopped in yesterday. He oos and awes over both. 

“You should put on the necklace!” Sarah says, standing up on the cushions of the couch.

“Maybe I want to admire it more,” Joel says. 

You bite back a smile. He’s already lost this battle and you both know it. 

“Don’t be silly, Daddy.” She grabs it from his hand, determination, and concentration painted on her face as she wraps it around his neck.

“Yeah, don’t be silly, Daddy.” You tease, shooting him a wink. He pokes his tongue out at you as Sarah almost chokes him in the process of securing the necklace. 

“Not so tight, baby girl.” 

“Oops,” she giggles. “All done.” 

She steps back to admire her handiwork, looking quite pleased. “What do you think, Aunt Bonnie?”

“Beautiful,” You smile, laughter evident in your tone of voice. “You look ready to hit the beach.”

“My turn!” Nathaniel announces, handing Joel a hand-drawn picture depicting their day at the beach yesterday. He goes into great detail describing everything he drew. Joel’s hand rests on Nate’s shoulder blades, head tucked toward him as he takes in everything the boy says with practiced patience and intentionality. 

It strikes something in your heart, a deep longing. That should be Tommy. But it also sends a deep sense of gratitude toward your brother-in-law for picking up where his brother has failed. You swallow back the tears, losing track of how much you’ve had to do that today.

“Thank you, Bud. I love it.” Joel kisses Nathaniel's head. 

“You’re welcome, Daddy.” 

Joel freezes. Ice rushes through your bloodstream. Your eyes meet Joel’s. What do you say to that? Neither of you knows the answer. 

“He’s not your daddy, Nate,” Sarah says, pulling out her older sister voice. “He’s your uncle.” 

“Oh yeah,” Nathaniel shrugs, unbothered by his mishap as he swings his legs back and forth, hitting the couch with his heels as he does.

“Aunt Bonnie, do you have the other gift?” Sarah asks, determined to keep the morning on schedule. 

“Yeah, right here.” You fumble around, finding the box tucked between yourself and the couch. Joel keeps his eyes on you trying to figure out what’s running through your mind, but he can’t. 

Sarah plucks the box from your hands before presenting it to her father. “This is from all three of us.”

She looks very proud of herself. Joel takes it with a smile, eyes flickering back to you briefly. You give him an encouraging nod. 

He loosens the bow, pulling off the top. The kids lean over either side of his body, excited for the reveal even though they’ve both seen it. He pulls it out, inspecting it carefully. A black watch face with silver accents and an olive green watch band. His eyes dart to yours. You smile at him. 

“You’ve been talking about it for years.” You smirk, sipping your coffee. “You were never gonna do it yourself.”

“It’s exactly what I wanted.” He shakes his head, a stunned chuckle shaking his chest. “How’d you know?”

“Found an old picture Tommy had stored away last fall.”

“Look at the back.” Sarah bounces with excitement. 

Joel flips it over. His brows knit together as he catches the inscription. Happy Father’s Day. We love you. Sarah and Nathaniel. 1997.

“Do you like it?” Sarah looks up at him with sparkling excitement. 

“I love it.” He kisses her cheek, thanking both the children. He wraps it around his wrist, buckling it into place. 

“Now you won’t be late anymore,” Sarah says, making you and Joel laugh. 

“We can only hope,” you say. 

Joel looks up at you with one of the most heartfelt smiles you’ve ever seen. His lips move silently. Thank you.

You nod in response. 

You spend the final day of your vacation on the beach until the sun has disappeared. Joel ends up running back to the house to grab the car so your two very tired children don’t melt down. You hurry through bath time, trying to get all the sand from hair and bodies. You’re sure you’ll be finding sand all over your and Joel’s homes for months. 

You provide goodnight hugs and kisses, but Joel takes bedtime duties. You’re cleaning up the kitchen, and packing up pantry items when the first lines of You Are My Sunshine drift out of the kid’s bedroom in Joel’s soft melodies. The kids' sleepy voices talk him into another lullaby and then another before their eyelids slip closed and their breathing evens out. 

The door clicks softly and you’ve already pulled the margarita pitcher and new solo cups. “See they talked you into the whole set list tonight.” You smile, filling the cups with the last of the margaritas. 

“It’s the last night of vacation.” Joel chuckles. He grabs the blanket off the back of the couch and the half-eaten bag of pretzels. “They asked so nicely.”

“And you’re a big softy.” 

You grab both cups, following Joel out to your spot on the deck. It’s cooler tonight, the breeze a bit stronger. You sit across from each other, feet propped in the seat of the other’s chair with the blanket spread across your legs. Joel sets the pretzels right at your knees. 

“Did you enjoy your day?” You ask, sipping on the day-old margarita. It goes down easier tonight, and your cup is filled to the brim.

“It was a good day.” Joel smiles at you, easy and relaxed. The world and your issues feel so far away here despite the day’s earlier events. “Probably the best Father’s Day yet.”

“Oh you mean it beats the raw banana bread from last year?” You’re laughing before the sentence fully leaves your mouth. Joel’s head falls back, chest vibrating with laughter. 

His hair curls more from the salty air and fits him, tanned skin, curly hair, Puca shell necklace and all. You wonder if you look like a similar version of yourself, the relaxed beach version. 

“Sarah trying to choke me with the necklace beats whatever it was you tried to bake last year.”

You stick out your tongue. The pretzel bag rustles as he grabs a handful. You take another drink from your cup. Joel Miller makes a mean margarita. 

“What about you? Did you have a good day then?”

You take an extra second to think about it before nodding. “Yeah. I can’t complain when it comes to well-behaved kids and the beach.”

“Nathaniel calling me dad didn’t throw you off, I hope.”

Your shoulders tense a little bit. “I think I’m the one who should be asking that.” 

“Kinda surprised it hasn’t happened sooner if I’m being honest.” Joel’s pointer finger slides along the lip of his cup before he brings it to his lips. 

You bite your lips, staring at the house across the street. “Same.” 

“Sorry, that was kinda a mood killer.” Joel’s hand rests on your calf. 

“It’s fine. You’re more of a father to him than his real dad.” You try to wave it off, but the facts are reeling in your mind like a movie. “Fuck, you were in the delivery room, and coached his T-ball team, and you’ve tucked him into bed more times than Tommy ever has.” You swipe away the moisture that’s gathered in your eyes, chasing them with another gulp of your drink. 

“Hey… maybe you should slow down there.” Joel leans forward, his feet dropping from your chair as he grabs the solo cup from you and the pretzels tumble to the deck. 

“I don’t think that’s necessary.” You reach for the cup, but Joel keeps it out of reach, setting it on the ground next to his. 

“I do.” He’s firm with you, grabbing your hands and tucking them between his. You can’t meet his eyes, embarrassment flooding your body. “What's going on in your mind right now?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Darlin,” He tugs gently on your arms. Your feet greet the warm deck as you're forced to sit up straighter. The side of your knee bumps against his. “You can talk to me.”

“I just want to enjoy our last night, Joel.”

“Can’t do that if I’m worried about you.” He tips your chin up, forcing you to meet his eyes. 

The street lights flicker off his warm eyes. You feel his touch linger under your chin. Extra warmth gathers in each place he touches. The words bubbling up in you, helpless to stop the thoughts circling in your head for months. 

“I’m not sure my marriage is salvageable. I don’t know if I’ll recognize my husband when he gets out. I don’t think he’s the same person-“ You can’t finish through the choked-out sobs. 

Joel lets out a soft sigh and before you know it, he’s tugging your pliant body into his lap, rubbing your back. He kisses your head. Your head finds the crook of his neck, fingers digging into the back of it. He’s the steady rock he’s always been. It does little to soothe your racing mind. 

You have so many questions and no answers. Tommy’s release from prison always felt like a distant finish line. Now, three months away, it feels like just the start. 

“No matter what, I’ve got you,” Joel says, hand cupping your cheek. “I’m here for you.”

How much longer can you continue to find solace in your brother-in-law's arms? How much longer will Joel play the part Tommy is supposed to? Supporter, parent, partner…

You pull back, fingers still wrapped around his neck. The metal of your wedding ring presses against his skin, but he’s used to feeling it. He doesn’t even think about it anymore. Your forehead nearly touches his. The pools of his deep eyes are endless. They’re different than Tommy’s. You don’t mean to compare, but you like it, soft and inviting after sleeping on rocks for years. You think you catch the hints of desire in them. You’ve forgotten what it feels like to be desired. 

There’s a fight, a push and pull between you. Who’s going to do it. His hot breath fans across your lips. Who’s going to be the one to finally cross the line you’ve been toeing for so long and drag the other one into exile with them? It’s a lush oasis in the middle of the desert you’ve been traveling. One move and you can dip your toe in. 

Joel gives in first, leaning in. Your eyes flutter shut with anticipation, another touch of his breath. His nose nudges against yours. You catch a whiff of the salt on his skin, and then, nothing, a mirage all in your head leaving you stranded in the desert. 

Confusion knits your brow before your eyes are open. Joel is still close, closer than a man that’s not your husband should be, but he feels further away than ever. 

His thumb nudges your bottom lip. He gives a weak smile in an attempt to cover his true emotions. “We can’t…”

He’s right. You hate yourself for getting so carried away. “I know.” 

Your hand drops from his neck. You might be sitting on his lap but he’s never felt farther from you. 

“You should go to bed.”

You think to fight him on it, but you decide not to. You stand up. Joel doesn’t move, thumb playing with the lip of his solo cup. He can’t meet your eyes and it feels like you might be losing him too. 

Before you can think better of it, you lean down, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. Your fingers rake through his hair twice over. His eyes close and he lilts into you just the slightest. 

“Thank you, Joel. For everything.”

His Adam’s Apple bobs as you pull away. He keeps his eyes pinned ahead, fingers curling around the red plastic. He’s barely holding on to control. 

“Good night,” he says, voice gruff, never looking away from his fixed point. 

“Goodnight.”

Joel finishes off yours and his margarita before he falls into bed. It’s just enough to keep him buzzed as he runs toward rest. He can’t get the feel of you out of his mind, how close he was to ripping apart his whole family. 

He’s in and out of sleep when the door pops open. He assumes it’s Sarah. She probably had a bad dream, and tosses the corner of the comforter back. Except, the full size mattress dips lower than it should. He reaches out but instead of Sarah’s small frame, he gets a handful of your waist as the smell of you fills his nostrils. In the haze of sleep, Joel opens his eyes just enough to find you facing away from him. 

The bed isn’t big enough for his legs not to tangle with yours, not if he wants restful sleep. Your body doesn’t tense under his touch. You don’t say anything. Neither does he, but your body melts into him until he finds his arm fully around your middle, back flush against his front.

Joel Miller considers himself a good man, but a good man doesn’t yearn for his brother’s wife. A good man doesn’t give into the temptation to have her so close, to be with her so intimately. Tonight, Joel Miller doesn’t worry about being a good man. Maybe it’s the alcohol, but tonight, Joel Miller falls asleep with you in his arms and bed. Tonight, Joel Miller’s deepest desires come true. Just for tonight, he gets to pretend you’re his. 

You wake up to an empty bed like you have since Tommy went to prison, but something feels off about it. A familiar smell lingers under your nose, and unfamiliar warmth fills you even though the sheets are cold.

You let out a soft groan, eyes fluttering open. You stare up at the ceiling, convinced once again that something feels off. You turn to look at the clock on the bed stand but there’s not one there. The walls are a different color and you shoot up as it all comes flooding back. 

You almost kissed Joel last night. The way you tossed and turned before giving into temptation and crawling in beside him. He hadn’t fought you, hadn’t said a word but pulled you flush against him in the bed that was just a bit too small. You’d slept like a baby for the first time in years. 

Joel sits at the table with the kids as they shovel the last of the extra sugary cereal into their mouths. A special vacation treat. You expect Joel to ignore you or at least be standoffish, but he hands you a cup of steaming coffee with the same smile he always does, crow’s feet crinkling at the corners of his eyes as if nothing happened. 

You offer a smile in response. A silent agreement to never speak on it again.

You’ve been home for a week when it comes, a plain white envelope stuffed with something soft labeled with a return address you’re all too familiar with written in Tommy’s chicken scratch handwriting. 

You wait until Nathaniel is down for the night, but it throws you the whole evening. Letters from Tommy are more rare than phone calls. You’ve received one, maybe two since he was incarcerated. Considering he’d promised to call on after Father’s day and hadn’t, the mysterious letter makes you feel unsettled. What shoes are left to drop?

You run the envelope through your hands, thumb picking at the corner of the seal, uncommitted to actually tearing it open. You’re worried whatever lies within will only hurt you more. You can’t sustain more hurt. 

Finally, you dig into the corner, tearing it open. Your eyebrows knit together. White fabric is neatly folded and tucked within. You pull it out, revealing a square of white fabric, like a bandana unfurls and a note falls to the floor. As you take in the black and white drawing on the fabric, you gasp. It’s a drawing of the picture you keep on your nightstand. The moment Tommy met Nathaniel for the first time. Tommy’s arm is wrapped around you, Nathaniel in his arms with the biggest grin on his face. It’s a moment that’s seared into your memory. Seeing it portrayed like this brings tears to your eyes, the emotions from that day and the last 696 flooding your body. 

Before the tear completely blur your vision, you pick up the note. You can barely make out Tommy’s handwriting when your eyes are clear, but you manage. 

Baby,

You and I both know I didn’t draw this. My cellmate did based on the photo. You probably know that. They call them paños. I’ve seen a lot of the ones guys in here have sent to their girls. They’re pretty cool. 

I’m sorry. I wish I could be better for you and Nathaniel. I love you, Bonnie. 

Tommy. 

Tears stream down your face. Just like that your heart seems to forget the heartache of the last couple years. This proves that your Tommy is still inside him somewhere, fighting to come back to you. You’ll do anything to have your Tommy back. 

It doesn’t matter if you're grasping at threads. Your heart overpowers your mind. You’re determined that you can pull him back by those threads, maybe not now, but once he’s out. Once he’s out, you can bring him back. You’re his Bonnie. He’s your Clyde. You’re tied together. Your heart beats for him, but you don’t catch a piece of your heart breaking off from the rest. That part can't beat for Tommy. It’s attached to someone else. 

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[dwobbitfromtheshire]

Eddie hated the idea of it, but he couldn't stop himself. He needed to help them. He cut the rope and ran outside to buy them more time, ignoring Dustin's screams. Just as he ran out there, he saw a light coming towards him. It was running at him. He realized it was Steve, holding a flaming torch above his head. When got to the trailer, he slammed the torch into the ground.

"I knew you were going to do something stupid," Steve said.

He walked over to him, kneeling at his stomach and tossed Eddie over his shoulder like a bag of flour. Eddie shrieked, but he wasn't going to complain about the view. Eddie looked up awkwardly as Steve started to walk into the trailer.

"Steve! The bats are dying!" Eddie yelled.

"See? You didn't have to do anything," Steve said.

Once he he walked in, he set Eddie on the ground but kept a hand firmly on him.

"What about Robin and Nancy?" Eddie asked.

"Oh, me and Robin are telepathically connected," Steve replied. "Yeah, they're on their way back."

"What?! How are you - ?!"

"Russians," Steve explained as he started to tie the rope back together.

"Yes, because that explains everything," Eddie said sarcastically.

"Get your ass back through the gate," Steve told him, his hands on his hips.

Eddie's cheeks turned red. Damn it. He liked that. He swallowed and climbed through the fate where Dustin was waiting for him with his arms crossed.

"You scared the shit out of me," Dustin said.

Steve climbed back through the gate, landing safely on the other side. He stood with his hands on his hips, staring at Eddie and ready to give him a talking to.

"Sit," Steve said, pointing towards the couch.

"Yes, Daddy," Eddie said, not missing the way Steve’s eyes darkened.

"Eddie! That's not how you use that sarcastic remark like that. It's 'yes, dad'," Dustin scoffed. "Daddy is what three year olds say."

"My bad," Eddie smirked.

"Your room now!" Steve exclaimed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"You are in so much trouble," Dustin laughed.

Steve pushed Eddie into his room and slammed the door behind them.

"So, how did you know that I would do that?" Eddie asked.

"Because it's what I would have done. It's what I did. The first time I got involved, I ran, but then I turned back and faced down a full-grown demogorgon. Later, I used myself as bait to protect the kids. The point is that I did all that because I felt guilty about Barb, and I know that's probably what you must be feeling. I mean, I know that it wasn't my fault and that I have nothing to prove. Eddie, it wasn't your fault what happened to Chrissy, and you have nothing to prove to anyone," Steve said softly.

Eddie smiled at him, his eyes soft and his cheeks pink. He raised his hands and cupped Steve’s face, brushing his thumbs across his cheekbones. Eddie kissed him softly. Eddie froze when he didn't feel him kiss back, and he thought that he screwed up for a moment. Steve slid his arms around him and started kissing him back, deepening the kiss. Eddie grinned when Steve slipped his tongue into his mouth. Eddie broke the kiss.

"Guess you really liked it when I called you Daddy?" Eddie whispered in his ear.

"Shut up," he hissed.

When they finally came out of Eddie's room, their hair was messed up and their lips were swollen.

"Oh, man, your face looks so red, Eddie. Steve must have chewed you out really good," Dustin laughed.

"Oh, yeah, he gave me a good tongue lashing," Eddie grinned.

"Seriously?" Steve asked.

Suddenly, Robin and Nancy were falling through the roof, the gate closing behind them.

"Hey, I don't appreciate the pornographic images you put in my head, Steven," Robin said. "Think about the ladies when I put up my shields!"

"Pornographic images? When would he have - " Dustin said, and then his eyes widened in realization. "Oh my god!"

#stranger things #stranger things s4 #eddie munson #joseph quinn #eddie stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson lives #steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #robin buckley #robin & steve #platonic stobin #platonic with a capital p #platonic soulmates #steddie ficlet #steddie fanfiction #dustin henderson

[eldritch-thrumming]

When witches turn eighteen years old, it’s customary for them to be sent out into the world, to practice their magic and find their calling. So when Eddie Munson’s birthday passes in July, he packs a suitcase, says goodbye to his Uncle Wayne—the best garden witch in the tri-county area, ask anyone!—zips his cat into the neck of his leather jacket (whom he’d cleverly named Kitty when he was six years old), climbs on his broom, and sets off for the city on the coast.

Once he gets there, Eddie’s not entirely sure where to go. He’s never actually been to the city before, but he’d heard so many stories—from classmates and friends, from travelers passing through his small town who’d come searching for Wayne’s recipes, from the witches who returned after their year-long apprenticeships—that he’d known since he was thirteen that he had to see it for himself. He wanders the cobblestone streets with his broom and his bag and marvels at the crowds. He watches a magician perform on the street—doesn’t miss it when he slips a card up his sleeve or shifts a coin through his fingers, but it still makes him smile—before he stumbles onto a ‘help wanted’ sign in a shop window. Kitty lets out a tiny meow from where she’s tucked under Eddie’s chin, like she’s trying to get his attention. Eddie glances down at her and she shifts her gaze from his face to the sign and back again.

“Alright, I hear ya,” Eddie murmurs, grinning and cupping a hand over her head for a quick pet.

A tiny bell jingles overhead as Eddie pushes open the front door. Immediately, he’s met with the smell of baking bread and sugary frosting. He breathes deep, giving Kitty another pat on her head. He stands at the counter for a moment before a boy around his age appears from the back room.

“Hi, welcome to The Bakery. What can I help you with?” The boy is grinning wide, wiping his flour-covered hands on his apron. He’s got soft brown hair and eyes to match. Eddie meets his gaze and feels himself blush.

“Um, you have a ‘help wanted’ sign in your window?” Eddie hooks his thumb over his shoulder, gesturing at the sign.

“Oh! Yeah, we just put that up today actually. We’re looking for a delivery person,” the boy is still grinning, eyeing Eddie’s broom. “I’m Steve.” He holds out his hand over the counter for Eddie to shake.

“Eddie.” Steve’s hand is surprisingly soft when Eddie shakes it.

“The job comes with a room over the bakery, our hours are from 6am to 5pm every day but Thursday, and we’d like you to start immediately.”

“Oh, um. Just like that?”

Steve grins again. “I may not be smart, but even I know not to turn away a witch when one comes knocking.” He knocks his knuckles against the wooden counter and Eddie returns his smile. “Come on, I’ll show you the room.” Steve turns to head back the way he came and Eddie takes a moment to look down at Kitty. She blinks at him, all-knowing, and it makes Eddie blush again. He rolls his eyes and sticks his tongue out at her before following behind Steve.

He follows Steve out the bakery’s back door and up a set of wooden stairs that lead from the garden to a small deck, where Steve pulls a key from his pocket and unlocks one of the two doors. He gestures for Eddie to step through the doorway before following behind him.

“The room is furnished, there’s a small stove there in the corner with a sink and a washroom just over there,” Steve gestures to a door on the opposite wall from the tiny bed. “My apartment’s the next door over and I have a full kitchen, which you’re welcome to use if you need to. Here’s your key,” Steve drops the warm piece of metal into Eddie’s palm, “and I’ll have the spare key to my place and the bakery for you tomorrow. Make yourself at home and head down to the bakery tomorrow morning.” Steve pats him on the shoulder before heading back out of the tiny room and down into the bakery.

Eddie is left to do nothing but blink at the empty space Steve had left behind. He’s not entirely sure what just happened, but he’s pretty sure he’s landed both a job and a place to stay. Not bad for his first day in the city.

~*~

A year passes and Eddie is happy. He writes to Wayne and tells him all about Steve and the recipes he tries out in the bakery. Tells Wayne that he suspects that Steve might have some witch blood he doesn’t know about; the things he can do with buttercream are pure magic. Eddie visits Wayne once for his birthday—it’s a long way by broom—weighed down by pastries and cakes that Steve insists he take home with him.

Eddie starts to learn the landscape of the city, learns when to fly over the coastline and when to keep tight to the city streets. He makes his own posters, starts to do some deliveries after hours too, which leads him to meet all sorts of interesting people. He meets artists and performers, writers and teachers, even the man who services the big clock at the center of the city (which Eddie finds particularly impressive).

He spends time with Steve. Steve is funny and smart, despite what he’d said the first day Eddie had met him. He can cook, not just bake, and he insists that Eddie joins him for dinner at least three nights a week. At first, Eddie had tried to say no to Steve’s invitations, thinking that Steve was just being polite, but Steve had insisted and Eddie realized that Steve was actually pretty lonely. He wasn’t from the city and he didn’t have much family; he’d come here when his parents had died. He’d apprenticed with an older woman named Claudia, who’d left the bakery to him when she’d retired not too long ago. Steve’s eyes go soft whenever he mentions her. Her son, Dustin, still helps them around the bakery three days a week, counting down the days until he leaves for university (he only ever relays the amount of days and Eddie’s pretty bad at math, but by his count, Dustin’s still got about three years to go).

Steve also talks about his best friend, Robin, who’s away at art school. Steve is hoping when she comes back in the spring, she’ll work at the bakery decorating the cakes. Eddie’s surprised to learn that Robin is also a witch; he hadn’t known many witches to go to art school.

The year passes in dinners and picnics, in deliveries and odd jobs, and when spring is finally turning over into summer again, Robin arrives home to the bakery.

“Stevie!” A voice calls from the front of the shop, scratchy and warm, drowning out the jingle of the bell. Eddie is sat on the counter in the back room, completely entranced by the way Steve’s arm muscles jump under his skin as he kneads bread dough. He’s barely listening to some story Steve’s telling about something Dustin had done the other day.

Eddie watches as Steve stops what he’s doing completely. “Robbie?” A smile spreads across Steve’s face, quick and involuntary. He doesn’t even pause to wipe his hands before he’s rushing into the front of the shop. Eddie watches through the door as a pretty girl with short blond hair throws her arms around Steve’s neck. He lifts her off the ground, spinning her around, leaving flour fingerprints across the back of her navy t-shirt.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming today?” Steve asks when he’s finally returned her to an upright position on her own two feet.

“Because then it wouldn’t have been a surprise, dingus.” She pokes a finger into his ribs and he half-heartedly tries to shove her away.

Watching them, Eddie feels something tighten in his chest that he can’t quite explain. He knows this is Robin—he’s seen pictures of her before—knows she’s Steve’s best friend, but this is more than mere friendship. This is something else entirely. Something magic. Eddie’s a good witch. He knows true love when he sees it.

“You have to meet Eddie,” Steve says before calling through the doorway, “Eddie, come meet Robin!”

Eddie hops off the counter and does as he’s told.

~*~

A few weeks later, Eddie wakes with a pounding headache. There’s a breeze coming through his window off the coast and it makes him shiver. He coughs and looks around for Kitty, but she isn’t curled in her usual spot on his pillow. Eddie sniffles.

He pulls himself from his bed and feels dizzy. He washes his face and drinks some orange juice before he heads down to the bakery.

“Wow, you look awful,” Robin says by way of greeting. She grimaces as he comes through the doorway.

“Gee thanks,” Eddie grumbles half-heartedly in her direction. His voice sounds heavy and hoarse.

Steve crosses the room from where he stands in front of the ovens and presses the back of his hand to Eddie’s forehead. “Eddie, you’re burning up. You should go back to bed. I’ll bring you soup later.” He pushes Eddie in the direction of the back door.

“But the deliveries,” Eddie mumbles, eyes already half closing as he dreams of getting back into his sleep-warm bed.

Steve smiles softly. “Don’t worry. Robin and Dustin can handle it.” Eddie glances behind Steve at Robin, who nods at Eddie reassuringly.

“Okay.” Eddie’s voice is a whisper and then he’s stumbling back up the stairs and falling into his bed. He wonders again where Kitty’s run off to.

~*~

Eddie is in and out of consciousness for three days. He has strange dreams, some of them nightmares where monsters chase after him as he tries to fly away on his broom; others are about Steve and Robin and even Dustin, good dreams of the life he’s made here for himself.

Steve keeps his promise and brings him soup every day, helping Eddie sit up against his pillows and even helping Eddie spoon the broth into his mouth. Eddie thinks he maybe should be a little embarrassed about it, but it’s so nice and comforting that he can’t. It reminds him of home, of recipes from Wayne’s garden.

Robin comes to sit with him on the second night, stroking his hair and humming lullabies while he drifts off.

On the third day, when Eddie is starting to feel better, Kitty finally reappears. Eddie asks her where she’d run off to, but she doesn’t answer. She’s been keeping secrets lately.

~*~

After three days, Eddie finally returns to work. Steve gives him the first delivery, tells him Dustin and Robin can continue to help out, just for a few days, so Eddie doesn’t overexert himself. Eddie nods.

He ties the tiny pastry box to the handle of his broom and mounts it on the sidewalk outside. He kicks off from the cobblestones. Nothing happens. Flying had always come easily to Eddie. It was second nature to him, something he never really had to think about. Not all witches could fly, but Eddie can’t really remember a time when he couldn’t.

He tries to kick off from the sidewalk again. Again, nothing happens. Eddie can feel the panic rise in his chest. He swallows, tries again. Still nothing.

He hears himself let out a small whimper and he’s glad Steve’s gone back inside and can’t hear him. He glances through the shop window and sees Robin’s clever eyes watching him. She meets his gaze. He can see the naked concern there. He swallows again.

He climbs off the broom and unties the package. He carries both as he re-enters the bakery.

“Something’s wrong,” he says to Robin and Steve.

“What do you mean?” Steve asks coming out of the back room again.

“Dunno,” Eddie replies. “Broom’s broken or something. Can’t fly.” He shakes the broom in his hand.

“Does that happen?” Steve’s brow furrows. Eddie shrugs.

“Maybe you’re still sick,” Robin says. “You should go back to bed. Try again in a few days.”

“Yeah. Maybe.” Eddie looks down at his feet. He passes the box to Robin and then decides she’s right. Decides he should go back to bed.

“Don’t worry, Eddie,” Steve says, reassuringly. “It’ll pass. Robin and Dustin can keep doing the deliveries for a little while.”

~*~

Eddie’s magic doesn’t come back. It’s not just the flying either. Kitty stays away longer. Eddie finds himself misunderstanding her more often than not. He keeps messing up simple cleaning spells and the easy home remedies he’s been brewing since before he can remember.

He takes his broom out every night and under the cover of darkness tries and tries and tries again. Sometimes he feels eyes watching him from Steve’s apartment, but when he glances up, all he can see is the flutter of curtains.

~*~

After three weeks of a miserable, magic-less existence, Robin knocks on the door of Eddie’s small room.

“Wanna talk?” She asks from the doorway.

Eddie considers saying no. Instead he nods and gestures toward his small kitchen table. She sits.

“I saw you practicing,” she says, diving right in.

“Yeah.” Eddie doesn’t try to deny it or even play dumb and ask what she means. She’s a witch. She’ll know. “Flying used to be like breathing. I didn’t even notice I was doing it half the time. Think I learned to fly before I could even walk. Now it’s all I think about. Feels like something’s missing now, like my lungs or, like, a part of my heart or something.”

Robin nods, knowing. “That happened to me, you know. Lost my magic. Felt like I lost an arm.”

Eddie swallows. “What helped get it back?”

“I met Steve,” she says softly, a fond smile playing around the corners of her lips. “I left home earlier than other witches. I never really fit in. I wanted to go to school. Didn’t know if I even wanted to practice my magic at all. My parents said if I stuck it out, I could leave when I was fourteen. So I did. I waited and counted the days and finally it was time. Spent a year in the city. I loved it. But then, one of my friends… something happened to her.” Robin looks sad and twists her fingers together, fidgeting. “She had to leave the city. When she left, I got really sick. Couldn’t do magic for almost a year.”

“A year?” Eddie asks, mouth hanging open. “I can’t not fly for a whole year.”

Robin hums. “You figure it out. You have to. Some days it’s more noticeable than others.”

“But you met Steve. And you got your magic back?” Eddie prompts.

“Yeah. It’s like that saying, you know the one? ‘True love makes the best magic.’” She says it like she’s said it a hundred thousand times before.

Eddie grumbles. “Don’t think I’m gonna fall in love and magically fix my flying problem.” He crosses his arms over his chest.

“I didn’t say anything about falling in love.” Robin smiles again, big and bright this time. “There’s more than one kind of true love.”

~*~

Eddie thinks about what Robin had said to him for days. He turns it over in his mind again and again and again.

He starts laying out treats for Kitty. He misses her. Even before he got sick and lost his magic, he’d started to leave her behind more and more on his deliveries. He’d realized he could fly faster without worrying about her falling from inside his jacket.

She’s hesitant, but she starts coming back more. When they sleep, she returns to her place on Eddie’s pillow and Eddie feels good with the soft, warm weight of her next to his head as he slowly drifts into sleep.

Before he’d gotten sick, he’d taken on too many deliveries. He’d stopped having time to chat with the customers, to hear the little stories of their lives, of cleaning the clock tower at the center of town or a new plot point one of the writers had just figured out. He’d missed hearing the explanations of what celebrations he was delivering cupcakes or tarts or heart-shaped cakes for. Delivering on foot gave him a lot more time to stop and watch the street performers, to help tourists with directions. On foot, Eddie began to appreciate the city again, like he had before, when he’d first gotten here. When it felt like he’d been dropped right into the center of a dream realized.

He starts having more dinners with Robin and Steve. He’d stopped doing it so much, not wanting to feel like a wonky third wheel. But they slot him in right next to them, right in the middle. They fill him in on inside jokes and old stories. Sometimes Dustin joins them and Eddie tells stories of Wayne and the strange people who used to appear on their doorstep in search of some of his magic.

Eddie starts to feel happy again.

~*~

A week after he talked to Robin, Eddie brings his broom out into the center of the street. It’s close to dusk, the sun low in the sky, and the bakery is closed for the day. Steve, Robin, and Dustin stand shoulder to shoulder on the sidewalk, waiting.

Eddie breathes deep. He swallows. Breathes again. And then he mounts his broom like he has a million times before. He grips the polished handle. He feels it thrum beneath his fingertips. He takes another deep breath, closes his eyes, and kicks off from the cobblestones.

There’s a strange sort of hush to the street. Eddie can’t tell if he’s in the air. He squints an eye open and sees Steve, Robin, and Dustin waving up at him. He can’t help the grin that spreads across his face. He lets out a shout.

He does a few circles around, just above their heads, while they all scream and clap for him. Eddie can’t help but laugh. He’d missed this.

When he finally lands, they all rush to hug him. Dustin lets go first and then Steve.

Robin’s arms are still around him when she whispers into his ear, low enough so only he can hear it. “See? True love magic.” Eddie smiles again and gives her one last tight squeeze before letting go.

Dustin and Robin head back inside, leaving Steve and Eddie to stare at each other in the empty street. Steve is still grinning, his hands in his pocket.

“How’s it feel?” Steve nods toward the broom.

“Feels like breathing,” Eddie tells him, closing the space between them. Steve’s cheeks flush and Eddie doesn’t miss the way his eyes flick from Eddie’s gaze down to his lips and back again. Steve licks his own lips. “Feels like home.”

Steve is breathing a little harder now as Eddie continues to slowly close the distance between them.

“Feels like magic,” Eddie whispers, before he brushes his lips against Steve’s. He pulls back slightly. “Feels like love.” Steve’s hand comes up to curl around the back of Eddie’s neck, pulling Eddie in close for a real and proper kiss, right there in the empty street, under the setting sun.

now on ao3 :)

(For @outpastthebrakers for commenting on the post where I mentioned this!!!! Warning: this was fully written under the influence of a sleeping pill in abt an hour and a half. Don’t hold that against me :P)

#steddie fic #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fanfic #steddie fanfiction #steddie ficlet #stobin #platonic stobin #Eddie munson is a witch #Robin buckley is a witch #Robin buckley #Kiki’s delivery service au #steddie au #steddie fluff #sorry abt not putting a read more I still can’t figure it out on mobile despite 3000 of you trying to explain. it to me #I’m too exhausted to fix it rn literally abt to pass out as we speak

[spiderfunkz]

✧.* FLOUR N COOKIES.

— summary : when baking cookies with natasha turns into a flour fight.

— word count : 0,6k

— warnings : fluff, fem!reader, established relationship, nat & reader live together, flour fights, pet names, nat being a tease.

a/n : it's october so the autumn-y fics r here !! also i am a firm believer that nat struggles to do basic cooking.

baking was something you've always loved to do, since ever. you loved the process of buying the ingredients, picking the flavours, toppings, decorations, everything.

you especially loved baking for other people. it's your way of showing that you love and care for them, a love language sort of.

and it's always been a tradition for you to bake fall cookies for your friends. today, you were baking them for clint.

it was the perfect time to bake. the weather was perfect, it was foggy but not too foggy since you could still see the reflection of sunlight. the music was playing in the background, and nothing could possibly ruin this you thought.

tying your apron, natasha walks in to help.

"you look good in that apron." she smirks.

you ignore the comment as you grab the eggs from the fridge. "stay focused, we need to finish these cookies."

"well, i'm more or so thinking that you should wear that apron more often." she teases. "these cookies are for clint. realistically, you should be taking the lead." you reply.

"i've never baked before."

"ever? in your entire life? not even once?"

"i'm pretty sure that's what the word never means." — "do you at least know how to crack open an egg?"

you were met with silence. is she serious?

"just crack these eggs to that bowl, please." you point. "like this?" she asks.

you stare at her in disbelief. she seems confused, possibly wondering what she did wrong.

"you know, maybe, without, the eggshells."

she looks down at the bowl, "i think we should leave it. crunchy cookies, you know? it adds more protein, so it's healthy." she awkwardly smiles.

"whatever, i'll just pick the eggshells out." you carefully grab the slippery shells.

"soooo.. what's next?" she wipes the egg residue on her pants. "i'll whisk the wet ingredients, you can help me by grabbing the flour and baking soda."

natasha nods, as she grabs the ingredients you asked for from the cabinets above. "you know i've always wanted to do this with someone." she says, toying with the bag of flour.

"yeah well, this feels more like a me effort instead of a team effort." you state. "there's no me in team." natasha replies.

"yes there is. there's an 'e' and an 'm'." you stated.

"you're so smart, detka. keep blabbering. see what happens."

was that a threat? you look up from the bowl to see her grab a handful of flour. "put that down. don't get closer." you commanded.

"or what?" — "or the cookies won't get done, and clint will have over-floured cookies."

natasha shuffles forward.

"nat. i swear. i just cleaned the floor this morning."

"i'm not even moving."

"i can see you shuffling towards me."

"i'm standing very still. actually, here, catch!" she throws the flour to you. your clean apron was now covered in flour.

"oh you are so gonna regret that, natasha."

you swiftly grab a handful of flour from the bag, throwing it right on her black top.

natasha gasps, before throwing another handful to your direction.

this went on for a good minute before natasha finally stopped it by grabbing the bag from you.

"okay, okay! time out. i've got to take a picture of you, you look like a ghost!"

"really? because you should really look in the mirror, natasha. i can barely make out the red in your hair right now."

she glances at the reflection of the fridge. "that's. rude."

"who looks like a ghost now?"

"you still do. if i poured the mixture on you with chocolate chips and put you in the oven, would you become a cookie?" she jokes.

"don't you dare mess with the mixture."

"don't worry, love. i'd still love you if you were a cookie." natasha smiles.

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff imagines #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff blurbs #natasha romanoff blurb #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha x y/n #natasha x you #natasha x reader #black widow x you #black widow #black widow fluff #marvel imagine #marvel imagines #marvel #natasha romanoff marvel #avengers #flufftober #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanov #natasha romonova

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for "not forgiving" my mom because she ate my chocolate chips?

🍫🍫 to recognize

This is probably a ridiculous argument but I genuinely don't know if I'm in the wrong or if my mom's an asshole, so, here we go.

I (mid 20s M) like to make pancakes for dinner sometimes. I tend to accompany them with chocolate chips, honey, and banana. I only make the pancakes for myself and not for my mom (mid 50s F), whom I live with, because she's in a "keto diet" and doesn't want to eat carbohydrates, which is an entire argument on its own, but it is not the focus (although relevant).

Some time ago (from the date I sent this, two or three weeks ago I think???) I accompanied my mom to buy some groceries, and I bought a bag of chocolate chips for myself, alongside other things for my pancakes (like flour and banana). I left them on the cupboard (except the banana ofc), and I expected them to, y'know, stay there.

Except a week or so ago I was looking through the cupboard looking for something else and noticed the chocolate chips bag wasn't there. My mom does have an awful tendency of eating my food or at least things that were bought by ME to be consumed by ME, so I straight up asked her if she ate them and she said "yes :(" almost ashamed. I honestly got pissed off due to the previously mentioned fact that this is not a first time thing, and then she started saying things like "well it's chocolate" and "I didn't ate them all at once I ate them slowly" and "you left them there for a long time" and "I bought them anyway", with the last thing being a lie because I bought them with MY money, thing she apparently "forgot".

I honestly haven't "forgiven" her yet, and with "forgiven" I mean I still expect her to go to that place and buy the chips again, this time with her money, and I told her so multiple times. But she's meanwhile expecting me to go with her again to that place and buy them with my money... when I shouldn't because I already bought them before! And she ate them! But now she's telling me I'm exaggerating and that in big families there's no such thing as "my food" or "someone else's food", everything's shared. And yeah, as you can guess from this now, I'm an only child (and only grandchild and the only nephew my child-free uncle has), so I guess the only point she has is that I'm not used to have to share things with siblings or cousins.

So Tumblr, I'm an asshole for expecting to have my own food and not wanting to share with my mom, or she's the asshole for taking things that weren't bought with her in mind?

Note: By the time I sent this ask, she also ate an entire jar of honey and crackers I also bought with my money a few nights ago because "she couldn't sleep, was anxious and thought she could calm down with eating". This is the second jar of honey in the month I buy that she ends up eating on her own and that I meanwhile could barely consume anything of. I didn't even opened the crackers.

Note 2: You can eat chocolate in keto diets as long as it is dark chocolate, but this one was milk chocolate. Honey and crackers are definitely not keto. So she's breaking her own precious diet.

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole #eating disorder cw