#cookie run baker's mix

[squidswithsocks]

frilled jellyfish cookie!! i really like her design🪼 ik she's supposed to be a moon jelly (auleria aurita) or an immortal jelly (turritopsis dohrnii) but i took inspiration from anomalorhiza shawi and acromitus flagellatus bc i think they look cool

#cookie run #cookie run fanart #cookie run kingdom #cookie run baker's mix #frilled jellyfish cookie #moon jellyfish #immortal jellyfish #marine biology #cookie run ovenbreak

[konigsblog]

tw: rape/non-con, somnophillia. 18+ 🍪🍰

pervy-baker-könig who makes a fresh batch of cookies for the neighbour moved in next door.

of course, he can't just be normal - instead, he pours thick globs of his hot cum into the batter, mixing it together with his hung, weeping cock hanging from his black, tight boxers, hidden behind his apron.

he stalks you and watches your every move from his kitchen window. his breathing quickens at the sight of your pretty body, milky cum running down his veiny shaft as he jerks himself off, peaking out of the curtains to watch you bend over, picking up your moving boxes.

the curve of your ass, and the way the wind blows your summer dress up occasionally. july's heat causes you to become sweaty, whilst könig's shirt sticks to his muscular, burly body, stroking himself with his head thrown back, gritting his teeth and panting heavily at the sight of you.

and fuck, it breaks him to see you so sweet and gentle. your sweet voice rings in his ear as you thank him for the gift, so naïve and unsuspecting of the pervert, taking a bite infront of him and complimenting him on the unique touch of saltiness - how it's the best cookie you've ever had...

of course, he assumes you want more of his delicious, special desserts !! perhaps, he'll lean over your face whilst you're asleep at night, sneaking into your house next door, his fat tip against your lip, droplets of milky cum dripping from the head of his shaft, leaking against your tongue whilst you sleep peacefully.

#orla speaks #konig smut #könig smut #könig x reader #könig x you #konig x you #konig x reader #konig x reader smut #könig headcanons #baker könig #perv könig #tw: non con #dead dove do not eat #tw: somnophillia

[literaila]

still here 

tasm!peter x reader 

summary: there’s an ache in me, put there by the ache in you

(for @elysian-chaos)

warnings: angst, fluff, feeling unworthy, feeling useless, you know, seperation 

a/n: ‘tis the damn season is the best song ever. dont argue 

*

there's this little thing called stress baking. 

typically, stress baking is referred to as coping by making something delicious to scavenge on, instead of dwelling on the feelings scavenging you. and typically, it's done with a certain type of elegance--one that is made up of chaos. completely insane, yet completely in control. it's a messy dance, but perfectly choreographed. 

stress baking is a very reviving task. filling up the house with muffins and pies is not only good for distracting yourself, but also for making friends when you run out of room. or smiling at the cashier every time you have to go to the store for ingredients. 

it's something you've practiced for years. something you've become somewhat addicted to. 

but then there's baking while stressed. which, you swear, hadn't been your intention. 

brownies from a box were supposed to be easy. they were notoriously easy. a couple of eggs, some oil, and some water. the hardest part of your job was mixing, but you'd done it so many times that you zoned out while doing all of it. 

box brownies were supposed to be non-stress and quick. but when you burn the brownies and batter rises over the top of your glass pan, and the oven is dirty, and the apartment smells like burnt batter and oven cleaner--well, you have to reread the directions. 

you're a good baker. you've been making cookies and cakes for parties for years. you pride yourself on not needing measuring cups because you can eye a recipe by the gram. 

not that these brownies would agree. 

and it's already five-forty-five. peter is going to be home in the next fifteen minutes and this was supposed to be a treat. something good. 

"surprise! i ruined our oven, and now we're going to have to spend the next few nights at your aunt's house in your twin-sized bed until the smell of death goes away!" doesn't typically bring out any smiles.

and peter's been stressed lately, and you've been stressed about him. 

and now you're making brownies from scratch without butter--because you used it all on the last batch, oops--and the number of candles you've lit is a sure fire hazard. 

but if peter would just smile at you, pull you in by your waist and laugh while he kissed you with a chocolate mouth, it would all be fine. 

if there wasn't so much riding on this one (two) pan(s) of brownies. like being able to sleep comfortably tonight. 

you turned the oven down, found a new pan--threw the other one out because it was nothing but a source of disappointment--and cleaned the oven just enough to not draw any suspicions. but you could still feel the failure lurking. 

peter was going to come home to a chaotic house, and it was your fault. 

so you scrubbed at the counters. fixed the stack of bills on the table so that you couldn't see any of the stamps, folded the blankets, and even swept the kitchen floor. 

still, you knew peter would know. because he always knows. and maybe that was why he was acting so weird lately--maybe that's why you were acting so weird. 

the door opened when the timer on the oven went off. 

you'd wanted to watch peter walk through the door--so you could gauge how tired he was, how miserable--but maybe it was better not to know. to let him put on a mask while your back was still turned. 

"hey, baby," he said, as you were pulling the brownies out of the oven, setting his house keys on the counter and sighing. "i'm home." 

you peeked over your shoulder, giving him a hint of a smile--the same type he was giving you. "hey, honey," you said back, "you're home." 

peter walked around the island to stand right behind you, kissing the back of your head and stealing a look over to the stovetop. he clears his throat. "brownies?" 

you shrug. "thought you might like something sweet when you got home." 

you take off the oven mitt, not really wanting to look at him--maybe because you're scared of what you'll see, or maybe just because you can already feel his eyes tearing down your skin. 

but you can feel his breath on your neck as he chuckles. his exhaustion as he leans into your back. 

"i've already got you, though," he whispers one peck at the edge of your jaw, another by your ear. 

you snort and pull away, turning so you can look at him. and then you pretend to throw up. 

he laughs and pokes your forehead.

you're not looking at him and he's not looking at you. 

you turn back to the brownies. 

"did you drop something in the oven?" peter asks, leaning his chin on your shoulder. 

"no," you answer, a bit too defensive. 

"sure?" 

"am i sure that i didn't burn something in the oven, peter? yes." 

there's a beat. "...cause it smells like it." 

you headbutt him. "you smell like it. go shower. you can't eat these yet." 

"yes, ma'am," peter takes a step back, and you look at him again.  you can see the question in his eyes, and see your own reflecting the same question. 

what are you hiding? 

"we have some ice cream, too." 

peter moans, his head back. you roll your eyes at him. 

and you start cutting the brownies, worries, and chocolate chips sticking to the knife, listening to peter's footsteps, feeling his presence sticking to you like sugar, sticky and rich, his eyes keeping you on edge. 

you know you shouldn't feel stupid--peter doesn't actually know what happened, or care--but you do. because he knows, and because even from the split second you looked at him, you could see the strain on his skin, the pressure weighing him down, dragging his feet across the floor. 

you feel stupid just because you don't know what to do. so before he can close the door, you turn around. choosing reaction instead of pretending. 

"peter?" 

he pauses, his head whipping towards you. his eyes are as soft and loving as they always are--his attention remains the same, even when his energy doesn't. like he's wasting himself away just to take care of you. 

he swallows. "yeah?" 

"are you--" you blink, look away, try not to taste burnt brownies. "are you okay? you seem tired. was work… alright? 

peter smiles, shaking his head. "just the usual, bub. work and... work. i think i'll go to bed early tonight?" 

you raise a brow. 

peter clears his throat. "i mean, i think i'll take a nap tonight before i go out." 

you nod. "okay." 

you both stare at each other for a moment. he's far enough away that it's easier. you don't have to feel his emotions as he processes them. don't have to see them from up close. 

you hate yourself for being afraid of him. for being afraid for him. 

“d’ya want to join me?” peter asks, whisper slipping from his mouth, smile taunting from his lips. “we can cuddle and eat brownies.” 

you lick your lips, shaky smile enough. “you sure? i’ve heard i can be a bit distracting…”

peter’s laugh makes his shoulders shake. “you heard correctly,” he says eyes crinkled, “but i don’t mind.” 

you nod. you’re grateful for his ease. the careful reveal of his true face, the peeling of a mask. the admittance that not everything is perfect, no matter how small. 

“go shower. i’ll get the sugar.” 

peter kisses you on the cheek before he goes.

and at least you got a couple of smiles out of him. at least you can feel his kiss lingering on your skin. 

* 

it's not that serious. honestly. 

you hardly even think about it. you're not thinking about it. 

you're not dwelling on the smell of soft skin and the feeling of calloused hands running up and down your back, the tickle of a breath against your neck. 

you're not thinking about it at all. 

and if it's been a week--or a week and a half, or two, or three--since you last spoke, or shared the same space with peter, then it's fine. 

this is something you've grown used to. something you're supposed to be used to. 

peter has obligations. 

he has things he needs to fulfill--not just for himself, but for others, for the guilt that you can see rocking his bones all of the time, the shame in his eyes when he comes home a bit too early. he has places that he needs to be, if only because he won't be able to live with himself if he's not there. 

but then again, you're not sure how to live when he's not here. especially when the sink breaks. 

still, as long as you can feel him pull you into his chest every night, imagine him kissing your forehead before falling asleep, then it's fine. 

you're not thinking about any of it because it's fine. 

but you miss him. if only momentarily. 

he'll come back--you repeat this like a promise, like it's his voice whispering it to you--because he always does. 

space is good for the heart, some part of you swears. though you don't think you could think of peter any fonder than you already do. 

he comes in too late at night and is already gone when you wake up. he texts you updates--because you've talked about communication before--and tells you that he loves you through sweet little notes he sends during the day. 

if the thing he wishes to share about his life is the worm he found in his apple, then you're perfectly happy to listen (read). 

it's normal to miss the person you love most in the world. 

and it's normal for your boyfriend to disappear for fourteen hours each day, just barely cuddling with you for three hours before he's gone again. 

it's normal for you, at least

he’ll come back. 

and so, instead of thinking about peter, and wondering when he might notice the frayed edges of your relationship, you make sure that he doesn't have to worry about anything. 

you clean up after the two of you, running the dishwasher and cleaning the bathroom, and packing him lunch on days you know he'll be gone for the office. making sure there's always something he can eat in the fridge when he gets home late at night, and texting him to know what he wants from the store. 

you make the bed and wash his clothes and hope that maybe it'll keep him from burning out. 

you hope that maybe it will keep you distracted enough to not ask him for anything. like love or support or a five-minute conversation. 

if taking care of him is the only way to keep him going--the only way to keep yourself going--then you'll do it. peter takes care of you enough. 

but even if you're not thinking about it, it's there. 

because you've just fallen asleep--which is extremely rare recently, mostly because you like to wait until you hear the window and then slow your breathing until you feel peter crawl into bed with you--and just woke up. 

woke up with sweaty skin and a headache. it's night ten and you're getting nightmares again. 

it's ridiculous that you can't even last two weeks without peter there. without him kissing you to sleep. 

and when you burst out of bed, you almost fall into him--almost scream because you're sharing the bed with someone else. 

tears are running down your face. your heart feels split open--like your dreams have revealed something inside it. 

but you look over to peter and he's there; he's still here. 

so you take a deep breath--chest caving in, body following--and you rest your head in your hands. 

if there's anything you want right now, it's for peter to wake up. 

it's for him to know all of this. 

you want him to appear next to you, leaning over your back like he's going to shelter from the world if that's what you need. rubbing your back and whispering in your ear. you want him in your house and laughing when you break the shower rod again. 

you want him to cuddle with you before he leaves, and cross his heart when you scold him while he crawls out the window. 

you want him in more than just your memory. 

but peter is snoring next to you, and so you sit there in silence until the tears begin to ease.

*

peter's not supposed to be home. 

he works until five, and then takes the subway home--and you're not expecting to see him anyway. he's been shoving his suit into the bottom of his backpack right as you pull it out of the hamper.

so it's not that unusual for you to be laying in bed, shoes and socks kicked across the floor, hands gripping for some stability, and eyes puffy and red. 

and it's not that unusual for you to squeak when the window opens, and spider-man's head peeks into your room. 

you can feel peter's wide eyes behind the mask. 

you're quick to wipe your face, throw on a clumsy smile. "peter," you say, exhaling. "what're you doing here?"  

a body crawls into the window, dirt and grime on clothes finger-tips reaching out to you. "what's wrong?" he asks, voice only slightly muffled. 

but you take a step back, moving away from him when he lands on the floor, leaving spots for you to vacuum up later. 

"what're you doing here?" you repeat, voice a bit harsher, a bit faded. 

"i need--" he reaches his hand out toward you again, retreating when you do. "i needed some more web fluid. i don't--" he shakes his head. "what happened?" 

"i, um," you wipe traitorous tears away again. "i think there's some more in the closet. i keep moving it when i'm cleaning, sorry." 

"you're crying," peter scolds. like you're being ridiculous. like you're not trying to save him the effort it's going to take to fix this irrational piece of you, these lonely broken bits. 

you bite your lip and look away. 

because although you can't even see his eyes--they are still scolding. they are quick and cruel reminders that you haven't talked to peter in two weeks. 

you turn towards your bedside table, pretending to organize the contents on top. 

you can hear peter moving. 

"what's going on, bub?" he says, soft enough for the words to crawl under your skin. he's taken the mask off. his voice is clear. 

"oh, nothing, you know," you pause, shrugging. "just the usual sad movie type of cry..." peter's hand reaches your back and you flip around, almost knocking over your lamp. 

"c'mon," he whispers to you, far closer than you'd been expecting. 

you try and take a step back, only meeting a dead-end. he's cornered you. "you should go, peter. you were just--" 

"this is more important."

you laugh. "some silly tears are more important than a collapsing building?" 

"you're more important," peter swears, his eyes so focused on yours, "to me." 

you blink and shake your head. gesture back towards the window. "go and save some people. you don't have to help me too." 

peter swallows, brows furrowed. "will you tell me what's wrong?"

"i can take care of myself, peter. you don't need to worry about it." 

"well, i'm going to." 

you roll your eyes. and then you break free of his hold, moving away from the table, from the cage he's built around you. "move along, spider-man." 

peter doesn't move any closer, but his limbs are tense. his face is concerned and hurt--you try and shield that out.

"i'm not leaving you when you're crying."

"i'm not crying anymore." 

peter scowls. "stop deflecting." 

you take a deep breath, throat dry and aching. "i'm not--" you clear your throat, shaking your head and looking away from him. "i'm fine, peter. but some people actually need you. go and save the day," you tell him. "i'll still be here when you come back." 

*

and you are. 

you're sitting on the couch, staring at photos peter took on the wall, wondering how to explain any of it. 

how to explain yourself without digging the two of you any further in this hole. 

you've been trying to prove just how little you need peter--just how useful you could be--and by doing so, you've put yourself in this situation. 

because you do need him. you just hadn't wanted peter to know that. 

so you're sitting on the couch, trying not to flinch every time the air conditioning comes on, or there's a footstep from the apartment above you. you're waiting for peter to climb in through the window, waiting to see how exhausted he is before he has to deal with you. 

and you've bitten your lip raw. completely eliminated any evidence of fingernails you once had. 

your heart stutters with every minute that comes by. 

and when you finally hear peter hop in from the fire escape, your heart stops completely. 

you wonder if he's going to change before he comes and finds you. before the inevitable happens, and you give him another reason to work so late. 

your restlessness must be audible because it only takes peter forty seconds before walking into the living room. he's wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt. 

he's wearing a frown like a well-tailored suit. known and made for him. 

you're trying not to frown back. 

"hey," you say, putting on a smile, voice flighty and an octave too high. "everything okay?" 

"no one got hurt," peter says, the antonym to your tone. 

"good." 

apparently, your tight-lipped smile isn't enough to ease the tension in the room. 

"are you ready to talk?" peter asks, slowly stepping toward you, just barely meeting your eyes. 

you'd scrubbed your face after he left. sobbed in the shower as you washed away any of the shame you hadn't meant for him to see. you'd made sure that your eyes weren't puffy, and your eyelashes were dry before he'd got home. 

so when peter scans your face--as he's doing now--he shouldn't notice anything unusual. 

besides the facade you're putting on. 

you clear your throat, eyebrows lifted like you're unconcerned. "there's not much to talk about." 

peter's sullen face doesn't move an inch. "why were you crying?" 

"i already told you. i watched a sad movie," you wave a hand, "you just came in at the wrong time." 

peter sighs. he sits down on the couch next to you, keeping his distance. "don't lie." 

you frown. "i'm not lying." 

"you've got some pretty obvious tells, you know," peter whispers, giving you a hint of a bittersweet smile. "you don't have to talk to me. but i'd like it if you did. i just want to make sure that you're... okay." 

"i'm fine, peter." 

he looks away. "and if you're not then we'll figure it out. i just want to know." 

"well, you do." 

peter opens his mouth, then closes it, shaking his head. 

he's sitting three feet away from you, but his hands are clasped together, his legs are opposite of yours, and he can't even look at you. 

you can feel it, as you push him away. as you try so desperately to hold him close without touching him. 

"okay," peter says, eyes meeting yours again. "i don't want to push you." 

no, but he should pull you off of this ledge. should keep you from falling any further than you already have. 

you shake your head, laughing. it's not funny. 

"what?" 

you close your eyes. count to ten. forget how to breathe, or how to speak to the person you love most in this world. 

"what?" peter repeats, but softer. 

you open your eyes. 

and then it all crumbles. 

you scoff. "can you stop looking at me like that?" you plead, breaking away, physically distancing yourself from him. 

"like what?" 

it's his fault, really, for coming home so early in the day. 

"like you can't deal with this. like this is exhausting." 

the tears sneak up on you, knocking you out before you even notice that they're there. 

peter's eyes are wide as he stares at you. "you're not--" he swallows, frantically reaching towards you. "this isn't exhausting--i'm not--" a moment, tears beginning to fall. "what do you--" 

you sigh, shaking your head. "you're always gone, and you come home exhausted every night after you think i've fallen asleep, and you only talk to me through text, and even now you just--" you stop, voice breaking. "if you can't do this," you say, softly, "then you should just tell me." 

peter is closer than he was a moment ago. "what?" 

"i know this is a lot of work, okay? and i know that you're already pushing yourself, so it's fine if i'm too much. if--if loving me is too much." 

there's a moment of silence, and you're almost sure that peter has already left. 

but then there's a thumb wiping a tear from your cheek. you can't open your eyes, can't face the reality you've been desperately holding off. 

"you're not too much." 

peter moves closer to you, his leg touching yours, his hands moving so that he can hold you closer. 

you couldn't push him away if you tried. 

"you're not too much," he repeats, the words sinking into your skin, his breath meeting yours. "i can't believe you would think that." 

you half laugh, half sob. peter wipes away those tears too. 

"you're the only thing keeping me going," he tells you, kissing your forehead. "i'm sorry i haven't been there. i didn't realize..." he shakes his head. 

"you shouldn't have to take care of me as much as you do," you whisper. 

peter nudges his head against yours. "hey. you take care of me way more than i take care of you. you clean up after me and stay up with me when i can't sleep. you help fix my suits, and do all of the laundry. and you never complain. you're practically my guardian angel." 

"that's all easy." 

"not for me," peter says, voice lighter than before. 

you shrug. 

"but you do all of that cause you love me," he adds, kissing your forehead again. "or, i hope that's why." 

"it's the sex." 

peter laughs, nuzzling his head into you. "well, at least you're honest. but, it's the same reason that i take care of you. you shouldn't feel... guilty because of that. you're no burden on me." 

"no?" 

"absolutely not." 

you bite your lip. try and believe peter. but honestly, you're most lovesick from how close he's holding you. how you can feel his skin and listen to him speak somewhere that isn't your bed. you're not quite sure that this isn't a dream. 

"hey," peter moves his head so you're looking at him. "we suck." 

you laugh, leaning your forehead against his. 

"i'm sorry it's been so long since we've... anything. it's been a rough couple of weeks." 

"for me too. it's not your fault." 

"you have to tell me if it's not enough, okay? i don't want you to suffer through it by yourself. if you need to talk to me--even for ten minutes--then you have to let me know." 

"okay." 

"do you promise?" 

you nod against him, nose brushing his cheek. "i promise, peter." 

peter smiles, satisfied. he groans, pulling you even closer to him. "i love you, bug. so much." 

you can barely hear him because of how tight he's hugging you. it sort of hurts, but mostly heals. 

"i know," you say back. but peter probably can't hear you, because you say it right into his shirt. 

*

my masterlist here.

tags:@moonlarking-blog @v1ci0us @preciousbabypeter @alexxavicry @directioner5life @inthegetawaycarwithtaylah @localrockstargf  @thestudiouswanderer @take-my-hand-time-boy @thoughtsofagodlovingsunflower @nyomjoon  @moo-b1tch @raindropstearsandtea @rqmanoff @hollandweather @wetcoldnoodle @urlocalavenderhazestan @valvlry @imthatcoolmom @spideysimpossiblegirl    invisibletrolleyson-jeremy  @sharkswaters  @rowniebow @anaislfbv @take-my-hand-time-boy @mileyc111 @starsval @ratsys

#peter parker #tasm peter x reader #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter fic #tasm!peter smut #tasm #the amazing spider-man #The Amazing Spider Man #tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter angst #tasm!peter x you #tasm!peter x y/n #tasm x reader #tasm x you #andrew garfield #Andrew!Spiderman #andrew!peter smut #andrew!peter parker #andrew!peter x reader #andrew garfield!peter parker x reader #andrew garfield!peter parker x you #andrew garfield!peter parker imagine #spider-man #spider man #spider man x reader #spider man x you

[hoonvrs]

FLOUR FOR YOU — enha hyung line

req for 1k event!

PROMPT [ one, 12 ] cupping your partners face in your hand before kissing them [ two, 5 ] smiling excessively, naturally and so easily around you

PAIRING enha hyung line x gnr

GENRE est. relationship, fluff

WARNINGS none

W. COUNT 1.2k

S. NOTE this just made me wanna bake knowing i’ve never baked a day in my life. also lets ignore how each drabble starts with their name

LEE HEESEUNG

heeseung knew you were easily influenced by a few videos, so when you suddenly announced your new interest was baking it didn’t come as much of a surprised. although, it took a minute for him to convince you to try baking cookies instead of a two-tier vanilla cake that you were convinced you could hack. now you’ve been in the kitchen trying to follow a ’15-minute cookie recipe’ that you found on tiktok.

for the last two hours.

“babe! they’re finished! come try them,” he heard you shout. he approached warily knowing that cooking wasn’t one of your strong suits, so maybe he didn’t have much faith in your baking either.

he walked in to see a tray of cookies placed neatly on the counter, “wow. they actually look good.”

“you have no faith in me,” you tsked, pushing him to sit and try them, “quick, try one, and be honest.”

he plucked a cookie from the batch, and cautiously bit into it. if you hadn’t been dating heeseung for a while you might’ve actually believed he liked it. unfortunately, if there’s someone, he can’t hide his true feelings from, it you. you caught the way eyes slightly squinted and struggled to swallow the cookie, “it’s bad isn’t it.”

“no, no! its good,” he grimaced, trying his best to not upset you even though his face showed everything you needed to know.

“i’ve already tasted it love, i think i mixed the sugar with salt,” you giggled, seeing the look of realisation fall on heeseungs face.

PARK JONGSEONG

jay was known as the self-proclaimed chef in enhypen and in your relationship. he would always offer to cook you different recipes he found online, and you repay him by baking some sweet dessert as a thank you. the roles of baker and cook had never switched between you two, content with the role each had. you had dabbled in cooking before which didn’t end well, so you lucked out with having jay as your boyfriend.

until two seconds ago, when jay came home declaring he wants to try make brownies cause the boys said he’d be a terrible baker. jay refused to believe baking was any harder than cooking and wanted to prove it. 

even though you offered to help, just to instruct him through it he refused, convinced that he could ace it on his first try. so you left him to his own accord, waiting patient in the living room until he finished.

“it’s done!” he yelled, running over to you on the couch with the brownies still in the tray he baked them in with two forks stick out, “let’s try it at the same time.”

as he finished getting seated beside you, he handed you your respective fork with determination, “get ready to be replaced as the baker in this relationship.”

“yeah, okay.” You dismissed him, both going to take a bite out of jay’s ‘masterpiece’ – his words not yours. 

jays eagerness slowly dissipated as soon as you both took your first bite. It wasn’t inedible exactly, just not completely edible. you could see the disappointment take over his face, “how about i make a new batch and you can pretend you made them to the boys, hmm?”

“you’re the best.”

SIM JAEYUN

jake instantly knew something was off the second he saw you in the kitchen surrounded by baking trays and ingredients. you’ve always had a habit of baking whenever something stresses you, which seems to be more often than not these days. 

“hey pretty, what you doing?” he rounded the counter to have a better look at what you’re doing, softly placing his hands around your waist and his chin on your shoulder.

“i’m making cupcakes.” you answered, aggressively stirring your spatula through the wet batter before an intruding hand dipped in and smeared the paste onto your nose.

you turned to see jake giggling, hand covering his mouth as he slowly backed away from you. so, you did the next best thing. you dug into the bag of flour, picking up a handful, throwing it directly at his face.

he stilled for a second, processing what you had just done before speaking up, “oh, you’re on.”

thus, ensuring a full flour fight with heaps of the powder being thrown around, coating every surface white including both you and jake. your laughter could be heard through all the shuffling and playful wrestling, and although you were covered head to toe in flour, jake though you looked so beautiful.

he preferred to see you with a wide smile on your face instead of the frown and furrowed eyebrows you were sporting beforehand, and he found his body moving on its own. he slowly approached you, cupping your face in his hands gently before pulling you in.

kisses with jake were intimate, always starting slowly and usually ending in either him or you in a fit of giggles refusing to separate from the others lips, and this one was no different. 

“never thought I’d see a flower covered in flour.”

“corny, boo!”

PARK SUNGHOON

sunghoon and you decided to try out baking together. every saturday, you both meet up in your apartment and try out a new recipes, sunghoon likes to call it ‘couples therapy – baking edition’, it has confused a lot of your friends.

today, you two decide to tackle the task of icing a cake. apparently, baking the cake itself and decorating it all pretty was too much work, so you both bought two premade plain cakes, and whoever decorated it the best got to grant the winner a wish.

“i’m making mine red, so you better not copy me,” he smirked, snatching the red icing right out of your hands to try to irritate you.

you scoffed, grabbing all the colours you needed, “fine, i’m going to make mine blue. don’t be jealous when it’s better than yours.”

“you wish,” with determination and enough competitiveness between you both, you began decorating your cakes. well, until you ran into a problem.

“babe, are you sure you cut off all the tips of the piping bags? this one won’t come out.”

sunghoon looked over to see you struggling, “yeah i did. maybe if you’d come to the gym with me you’d be able to squeeze it out.”

“stop bringing that up! i’m never going to the gym with y-”

silence fell onto your kitchen after hearing a loud pop cut through the air. you heard screeching laughter before you even realised what had happened. 

looking down to see the navy icing was not only in the piping bag, but over the counter and all over your shirt. sunghoon couldn’t even hold himself up from how much he was laughing, bend over with one hand on the counter and the other holding his stomach.

his laughter rang like music in your ears, a rare sound you don’t hear too often in public where he’d rather giggle quietly behind his hands, but this one was your favourite. where he suddenly loses all composer and collapses in on himself, screaming obnoxiously whist simultaneously tying to catch his breath. worrying but impressive. 

maybe a ruined t-shirt was a worthy sacrifice to hear him laugh this freely around you.

perm taglist @mesopret @tnyhees ​@haknom @shinsou-rii @redm4ri @lacimolela @llama-lyna @chiyuv @lazysmushi @flwoie @kocokookie @kyexvly @seongclb @dammit-jjk @flwrshee @produmads ​@teddywonss

#( tag. events! ) 1k #enhanet #saints works ( madewithlove. ) #enhypen hyung line #enhypen fic #enhypen drabble #enhypen drabbles #enhypen imagine #enhypen headcanons #enhypen fanfic #enhypen scenarios #enhypen imagines #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen fluff #enhypen x reader #enhypen ff #heeseung drabbles #jay drabbles #jake drabble #sunghoon drabbles #heeseung imagines #jay imagines #jake imagines #sunghoon imagines #heeseung fluff #jay fluff #jake fluff #sunghoon fluff

[cozage]

The Mystery Baker

A/N: just a morsel of Zosan Characters: Sanji x Zoro, but a few of the strawhats are included too :)  Total word count: 1.4k

Sanji hadn’t been off the boat for long. He only had to run and grab a few items from the island they had landed on, and he then had come right back, eager to wait on Nami’s and Robin’s every need. 

But when he entered the kitchen, the delightful smell of chocolate chip cookies filled his nostrils. On the cooling rack laid a dozen cookies, still warm from the oven. 

Cookies that he hadn’t made. 

Someone had been using his kitchen while he was gone.

He couldn’t think of anyone on the ship who would bake, especially while he wasn’t around. If anyone had needs, they simply asked him and he fulfilled them. He couldn’t decide if he should be annoyed someone used his space, or thrilled that someone was interested in the art of creating food. 

The cookies were still warm, but he picked one up and smelled it. They were made from scratch, he could smell the specialized ingredients in them. An over-indulgent amount of sugar, chocolate chips, vanilla, and a few ingredients he hadn’t expected to sense. Cream cheese, almond extract, and nutmeg..or was it cinnamon? It was so faint, he could barely make it out. 

Sanji bit off a small piece, curious how the flavors interacted with each other, and let out a soft moan from the taste. The cookies were a perfect mix of savory and sweet, the chocolate chips instantly melting in his mouth. 

Not that he’d ever admit it, but Sanji wasn’t sure if he could make a chocolate chip cookie that tasted this heavenly. The after flavors swirled and lingered in his mouth, making him fall in love with their creator without even knowing who they belonged to.

He shoved the rest in his mouth and plated a few to take along with him, eager to find out who had created them. It was clear that whoever had made this dessert had put extreme precision and care into the process. Such a feat was only handled by a woman’s gentle touch, so he set off to find Robin. 

“Robin, my love!” He sang as he danced over to her. “If you wanted to make sweets, all you had to do was ask!”

Robin’s eyes flicked up from her book and rested on the tray of desserts. 

“Cookies!” Nami called, walking up behind Sanji and plucking one from the plate. “Sanji, you really shouldn’t have!”

Nami took a bite, eyes rolling back in her head in delight. “You’ve really outdone yourself,” she praised, mouth still full. “These are amazing!”

Sanji gave a smile, pleased to see that Nami enjoyed them. But he couldn’t take the credit for them. “Actually, Robin-chan-”

“I didn’t make them,” Robin interjected, smiling as she watched Nami swoon over a dessert. “But I would like to try one, given Nami’s reaction.”

Robin tried to hide her satisfaction, but it was evident to Sanji that she had the same emotions towards the sweet as both he and Nami had. 

But now, Sanji was extremely confused. If it wasn’t Robin or Nami, then he wasn’t sure who had the capability to cook. In fact, there were probably only three other men on the ship who even knew how to use an oven, and he was certain none of them would have the touch to create such a delightful treat.

“Franky!” Sanji called, entering the workshop. “Did you use my kitchen while I was gone?”

Sparks flew from Franky’s project, but the cyborg stopped his experiment and turned his attention to the cook. 

“Oh hey, dude! Dinner time already?!” Franky set down his tools and brushed himself off, but Sanji shook his head. 

“Did you use the kitchen today?” Sanji asked again, holding up the tray of cookies. 

“Weird bribe, but no.” Franky took a cookie and threw it in his mouth. His eyes instantly sparkled, tears overflowing in an instant. 

“Hey man, these are like, the most super cookies I’ve ever had! Let me have another one!”

Sanji had a bad feeling in his gut now and quickly moved the tray away from the cyborg. 

“You’ll get better ones later!” he shouted, storming out the door and down the hallway. 

Nothing was making any sense. The only other person Sanji could see baking was Brook, but he didn’t even have tastebuds to make them. Everyone else was useless in the kitchen; worse than useless. 

Perhaps someone had snuck aboard and put poison in the cookies in an attempt to kill or weaken the crew. Perhaps a drug had been added to the mixture, and now half of the crew would be unable to fight if someone were to attack. 

That had to be the explanation. Even if he didn’t feel strange now, surely the effects would kick in soon. Of course nobody on the ship had cooked in his kitchen without his permission. Of course they had waited for him to get back. Of course he-

“What the hell are you doing with my cookies?” A gruff voice called from behind him, startling him from his thoughts. 

Sanji’s head swiveled around to find that annoying swordman glaring at him from down the hallway. 

The blonde scoffed. “These are not your cookies.”

“Like hell they’re not!” Zoro stormed toward the cook and snatched the plate from his hands. “I made them!”

Sanji reached for the plate, his anger rising. “You couldn’t make something this delicious, mosshead! Nice try!”

“What the hell do you mean?!” Zoro held the cookies just out of reach. “I made them while you were gone! I always make them while you go shopping!”

“I’ve never seen them here before!” 

Sanji lunged for the plate, but Zoro blocked him with his own body, and Sanji could smell the faint smell of vanilla and almonds on the swordsman’s skin. 

“I usually make them and eat them before you get back!” Zoro shouted, pressing his forehead against Sanji’s to keep him locked in place. “Don’t even give me shit about it, because I clean up everything and put it back before you finish your little island visits.”

His words gave Sanji pause. Being this close, Sanji could smell the chocolate and spices across Zoro’s breath, and for some reason he found himself flustered at his proximity to Zoro’s lips. 

He quickly ripped himself away from the swordsman, still glaring at him. There was no way that a shitty swordsman like him could create something sent straight from the heavens. Sanji refused to accept that. 

“And where exactly did you learn to bake like that?” Sanji shot back, trying to ignore the drumming in his ears.

“The dojo!” Zoro yelled. “We had a baking fundraiser every month to raise money! Now, do you mind? I’d like to go enjoy my cookies in peace!”

“Get out of my sight,” Sanji hissed, turning away from the swordsman. “And don’t use my kitchen without asking!”

“As if you’d ever realize I was in there!” Zoro yelled back, storming away. 

God, Sanji’s heartbeat was so loud in his chest, he was certain the whole island could hear it. And his face felt so abnormally hot that he had to go to the bathroom just to calm down. 

That damn swordsman was always pissing him off, making him worked up over things for no reason. He splashed some water on his face and checked himself in the mirror. His cheeks were still pink from how angry he was about the whole ordeal. 

He had been looking forward to convincing Nami or Robin to make a fresh batch with him by their side. He would have followed their every order and listened to their every demand. And once he had learned how to make them, those ladies would never have to work again. He would make them whenever they requested. 

But that hadn’t been the case. He couldn’t even admit that he was craving another one, because even just saying that would give the mosshead an overwhelming amount of satisfaction that Sanji refused to give him. 

He finally worked up the nerve to walk into the kitchen, where he found one chocolate chip cookie on a plate. A note lay next to it, and Sanji picked it up to read it. 

Since you thought they were so delicious, here’s another one. Will show you how to make them if you ask. 

Sanji had to admit, the idea of cooking with the swordsman by his side made his heart flutter.

#one piece #one piece imagine #one piece scenario #zosan #one piece zosan #op zosan #zosan fanfic #zoro x sanji #sanji x zoro #sanji #zoro #✧˚zoro✧˚ #✧˚sanji✧˚

[ghostfacesvalentine]

HALLOWEEN DAY 3: Baking halloween treats - Multi!Muse x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Multi!muse  x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Not that I could think of, kind of whoesome

Type: Blurb

Request: N/A

Word Count: N/A

Prompt: Baking is always fun no?

Notes: I don’t think I’ve messed anything up yet. Whoop whoop lets go

Jason Voorhees: Kind of wholesome with Jason, he absolutely loves when you bake, he could smell it from outside the cabin and it’s usually what lures him back home to you. His favorites would be apple pie, sometimes you’d make little designs with the crust, which would be his favorite part, feeling flustered when he’d see little cut outs of hearts plastered across the baked crust. This would be his favorite desert, sometimes you’d have to smack his hand out of the pan telling him you had to eat first before desert, only letting him have a bite before dinner on his birthday.

Michael Myers: He wouldn’t think much of it, he’s not too big on baked goods, no matter what it is, if it’s cupcakes, cake, whatever it is, he doesn’t care for it, but chocolate is Michaels kryptonite. He’d help you decorate the cakes and cookies you’d bake, usually just plastered a ton of red frosting across the desert. “Close enough” You’d think to yourself, simply happy that Michael is participating.. 

Tiffany Valentine: Completely enamored with it, loves everything to do with it. She could never do it right, no matter the different recipes or instruction manuals. Tiffany was still more than excited to participate, drawing little bats on the cookies with black frosting, making little ghosts on the cupcakes with black and white frosting. Her favorite part would be adding the sprinkles. Lots of laughing and giggling, this is just a wholesome moment for her and she feels overwhelmingly lucky that at least one of you can bake.

Billy Loomis: He wants no part of it, never was a baker and he sure as hell isn’t going to start today. Billy will stand in the kitchen, watching you do all the hard work, telling you “well I never asked you to make us any cupcakes babe” Dipping a finger into the icing and licking it off, Billy is such a pain in the ass for you, but he looked so cute as he was a pain. Watching you mix the ingredients, read the book and follow it as you pleased. Not even the decorating did Billy want to get involved in, hopefully you know how to do most of it on your own.

Stu Macher: Completely hands on “What do we do next” Will for sure overbake the cookies or brownies. He kind of clumsily follows what you say, sometimes adding too much or not enough. It’s like cooking with an actual five year old. At some point you just realize, maybe the actual baking process would just enlist you to do the actual work and just have Stu give you the utensils. Come decorating, he would let loose and do whatever he wants and surely Stu does get very creative with his Halloween designs.

Patrick Bateman: Doesn’t care for any sweets, if anything he despises them. He’s never liked anything sweet, Patrick thinks it’s bad for his body and says his taste buds refuses them. He doesn’t even like the smell, but if you insist he’d let you, just as long as you clean up after and leave the kitchen from smelling like a bakery. Patrick does like the designs you make though, he’d look at them through the container, telling you that you did a good job.

Leatherface: LOVES baking time, never really had any sweets or chocolate growing up. Bubba only tried it a few times in his childhood and he could never forget the taste, sometimes it’d fade away into his bittersweet memories but your at home bakery brings it right back. He is so involved in your activities, such a hands on s/o. Bubba would try anything and everything that you’d make, he’d mix the batter while you prep the oven, following every instruction you give him to a T. Not to mention his favorite part and everyone’s, the decorating. He’d make all sorts of creations, often running out of space in his cupcake, sometimes getting frustrated that it’s not coming out the way he wanted. Rest assured, all of it is still edible.

Harley Quinn: Also loves baking time, she knows how to make the best brownies, warm with chewy chocolate chips. She’d sit on the table crisscross while she mixes the batter, swiping a few tastes of the cookie dough if there’s any beforehand. Lots of silly faces and unfortunately, lots of messes. Somehow it would turn into a mini food fight as well, Harley’s childish at times, what can I say you bring out the best in her. She’s quite the artist too when it comes to decorating, always making the best ghosts and bats across the plain cookies. Harley takes baking quite seriously at times and will definitely be up to a contest to who could make the best most creative creation.

Poison Ivy: Not a huge fan of baking, but would enjoy some dark chocolate brownies every now and then. She would be interested in decorating your creations though, she finds it therapeutic. There would be times though, where you’d get the recipe wrong, or overcook it and Pamela would have to step in. You’d watch her as she would gracefully blend the mixtures and let them sink across the baking pan. She’d kiss your forehead, not minding the extra work. It’s actually kind of comforting. Pamela’s favorite creation of course, would be the pumpkin shaped cookie.

Bruce Wayne: Surprisingly loves it, it’s one of the things that makes him feel like his house is finally a home with you. He’d walk in on you early, smelling the sweet scent of cookies, wrapping his arms around your waist and giving you a tender kiss on your cheek. Bruce is more than happy with whatever you make, more in love with you by the second. Believe it or not he’s not the best at decorating the cupcakes or cookies, not when the designs at least but it’s the thought that counts.

Jason Todd: Kind of similar to Bruce, seeing you do any kind of housework around the house melts his heart. While baking isn’t particularly “housework” the fact that you would try to surprise him with Halloween cookies after a mission means the world to him. He couldn’t keep his hands off you, to the point where he’d be in the way, happily watching you get flustered and then annoyed. Lots of kisses, on your nose, neck and forehead.

Billy Hargrove: He does not know what to do at all and in all honesty, he won’t admit it but he is kind of scared of ruining anything. Billy loves you and he knows how much love you put into your cooking/baking, how time consuming it could be and the last thing he would want to do is ruin it for you. Sometimes it could come off like he’s uninterested and it’ll leave you in blues, but once you talk about it. Billy is more than happy to help you clean after, keep you company as you did all the baking. Not to mention, he’d be the best taste tester.

Steve Harrington: He’s actually super into it, he’s the first one up to take to you to the store to get all the baking supplies, carrying the basket for you and watching you pick the ingredients, making decisions with you. I’ll take the liberty to say Steve would be one of the most involved on this list to actually make any sort of Halloween goodies with you. There would be a few times you’d forget a certain item, or completely undermeasure what you bought and he wouldn’t mind going back for you to get it. He’d make little weird aliens and odd monsters with icing on the bare breads that would come out of the oven, taking pictures of them next to yours and keeping them in a little booklet of you both.

Steve Rogers: Kind of enamored with the wholesome idea of you baking for Halloween instead of giving out so much candy or buying the cupcakes at the store. He’s such a hands on boyfriend and it shows. Little did you know he has a few tricks up his sleeve as well, teaching you how to keep the cookies from overcooking, or the brownies from sticking onto the pan. Cute little kisses every now and then while your creation bakes. He’d let you take the lead in decorating, he much rather watch you be excited about the fun part, he cherishes these moments more than anything. Not to mention, he’d help you bring your goodies to the team “Avengers, Y/N took the liberty of making you all a treat, for all your hard work this week.” He’d let you give them out as he’d hold the basket before them, staring to you proudly.

Bucky Barnes: Kind of like Steve, he’d gladly participate in whatever you wanted to do for Halloween. Helping you with the mixing, read the recipe book, pick out the products at the store. Bucky would sit you on the island of the kitchen while he’d mix the now-pasty dough. Lots of small kisses, also in love with the idea of doing something so wholesome that reminded him of his good times. He’d sometimes tell you stories about his family and what they would do, what Halloween was like back in the day. Not too big on decorating, he rather just add the faces onto the cookies if you insisted on him participating.

Wanda Maximoff: This is her specialty, it would be therapeutic for her, so if you mention you wanted to bake something for the team, she is all up for it. Your dining room table would be littered with different fall themed snacks and flavors, all ready to be decorated and either eaten or sent away for others to enjoy. Wanda would love to bake a little bit of everything with you, involving herself in the decorating as well. Everything would look straight out of a professional bakery, some would even offer to buy them off of you, but instead you’d give them away. To anyone who wanted or seemed like they needed something sweet. Needless to say, this would be one of her favorite Halloween activities with you.

Loki Laufeyson: At first he doesn’t seem so interested, but after he sees you’re determined to make at least a dozen cookies and a dozen brownies, all fresh, warm and full of love for the team, he seems interested. Loki would watch you from afar, seeing you struggle with mixing the batter, getting tired and taking small breaks between. Of course this would be Loki’s best opportunity to ascend from the shadows towards you. “Let me have it dear.” He’d instruct as you surrendered the bowl to him in defeat. A few more minutes and you would’ve added literal tears into the mixture. Though he doesn’t want to admit it, Loki does enjoy these silly little activities with you.

Cloud Strife: King of “no idea what I’m doing” But always tries to have a good attitude about it. He helps you with all the heavy stuff, or more like the physical part of this activity. But then literally just waits for your next command, not really knowing what to do after. While everything waits in the oven, Cloud kind of just stands there waiting for it to inflate before his eyes, crushing down on a hard blush when you’d try to kiss his cheeks whispering small “Thank you’s” and other little praises. He’d help you give them out on Halloween night, keeping an emotionless expression, mostly kind of humiliated, but not enough to hide from it. Whatever makes you happy.

Aerith Gainsborough: LOVES this idea, she’s super excited and the minute you mention it, Aerith is grabbing you by the wrist and pulling you to get the ingredients. She wants the cookies in her hands now. Her favorite part its watching the cookies inflate in the over and decorating them with cute little ghost figures and pumpkins. She’d get icing on your cheek and nose periodically, laughing away as you scrunch your nose. Aerith would love to have you try what she’s baking, asking for your opinion, if it’s too much, too little, or even trying to get you to guess what she added to this batch.

Sebastian Michaelis: Ok come on. He knows how to make everything and anything and if he doesn’t, he’ll learn. Sebastian would make more complicated dishes, showing off a little to much in competition to your simple brownies. That doesn’t mean he won’t teach you though, maybe then you’d be able to help him when the young master would want a treat. Sebastian wouldn’t condemn you to do his job anyway, but if you wanted to have a little bit of wholesome fun on Halloween, Sebastian would be the best to go to in this area. Your baked goods would be created to perfection.

Spencer Reid: Sooo messy, the kitchen is a mess, there’s batter on the floor, the spoon must’ve fell like three times. Spencer has icing in his hair, no idea how, you haven’t even opened the darn thing yet, you have food coloring all over your fingertips and there’s so much laughter coming from both of you. “Wait no it says two tablespoons Spence, not teaspoons” Then a groan would come out of Spencer as he lets the bowl splat back down onto the counter. A snort would come out of you to see his cute frustration. “Come on genius, Halloween’s tomorrow and we have to get these out for the team, let’s hustle. Go! go! go!” You’d scold him into mixing faster to keep up with you.

#billy loomis x reader #loki laufeyson x reader #stu macher x reader #michael myers x reader #jason voorhees x reader #steve harrington x reader #bucky barnes x reader #harley quinn x reader #leatherface x reader #patrick bateman x reader #cloud strife x reader #sebastian michaelis x reader #poison ivy x reader #bruce wayne x reader #jason todd x reader #aerith x reader #spencer reid x reader #tiffany valentine x reader #steve rogers x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #31 days of halloween #ghostfacesvalentines halloween

[munsonsreputation]

I THINK THERES BEEN A GLITCH

CHAPTER FIVE: FASTENING MYSELF TO YOU WITH A STITCH

↢ chapter four | series masterlist | chapter six ↣

steve harrington x fem!baker + artist

word count: [20.5K]

warnings: no use of y/n, cursing, self deprecation (are we surprised???) overall fluff

summary: things get heavy with the farmers market making its quick approach — thoughts gnawing away at you and pressure building in your bones. slowly but surely, you’re back at square one, lost in the labyrinth, thinking that the plane was going down. but what happens when Steve comes along in the midst of the storm and mess?

There was a sugary sweet aroma that clouded your apartment — a mixture of freshly chopped fruit that simmered in lemon juice and the overwhelming heaps of sugar and vanilla you mixed together all day.

Racks of fresh baked cookies cooled on a wire rack on the counters while the next batch baked in the oven. You had gone as far as to clearing out most of your fridge space — pre-filled piping bags littering the shelves along with the rest of the precut ingredients you had prepared throughout the week.

Somehow, no amount of planning and prep seemed to matter because you hadn’t anticipated being responsible for a few hundred batches of sweets for Saturday’s Farmers Market. Perhaps you should’ve posed a few more questions and concerns before agreeing on the spot, but you knew you weren’t going to leave Nancy hanging.

She was always so good to you… welcoming, big-hearted, and most of all supportive. Even if she didn’t ask, you would’ve volunteered yourself the second she brought up that she would be hosting the event.

If there was any way you could help, you wouldn’t even think about hesitating.

However, the ache in your limbs and the tiredness in your eyes were speaking a whole nother tune than your heart and mind. You spent the entire week in and out of the grocery store picking up pounds and pounds of flour and sugar — even the sweet lady at the market had run out of fresh eggs to sell you, having already picked up a few dozen days prior.

There were too many baking dishes and itty bitty teaspoons littering the bottom of your kitchen sink.

Recipes that normally took you an hour to bake had tripled with the increasing measurements.

Grocery store runs became more and more frequent with you forgetting to pick up that one very important and vital ingredient.

The menu you had scribbled down on a random piece of paper had been crossed off and rewritten and crossed off again more times than you could count. At this point it was barely legible, the black ink a jumbled mess of your handwriting that only you could understand.

Safe to say you were a mess… literally and figuratively.

There was a tingling feeling in your bones, an impatient restless prickle that flooded your senses in a way that was voicing to you that you were on the verge of a breakdown in the middle of your kitchen if you didn’t step away.

“Fuck this!”  You hissed to yourself sharply.

You reached for the knob, turning it to shut off the heat completely and pulled the bubbling fruit compote away from the burner. The floorboards creaked under your heavy footsteps taking you away from the kitchen and into the living room where you fell against the couch cushions, finally letting your back rest after being on your feet all day.

“It’s gonna be okay… everything is fine, I’m just being dramatic.” You whispered reassuringly to yourself with fanning hands trying to get yourself to cool down. 

But you and your consciousness knew you weren’t fooling anyone… not even yourself.

It wasn’t a foreign feeling at all — you had been here many times before staring up at the ceiling and trying to ground yourself in any shape or form. But it just so happened that you hadn’t felt like this in awhile, maybe because of how busy life had become with your new friendships and the less time you spent worrying. 

You had done your best to keep it at bay, even when it came to your artist’s block, you never let it overwhelm you like this If anything you accepted it and waited it out, but now that you knew someone was counting on you… it just had to come back and bite you in the ass.

“I can’t do this!” You whined dramatically, standing up and snatching the phone off the coffee table, dialing in the numbers and pressing it tightly to your ear.

With every ring you paced back and forth from end to end of your living room. The cord pulled taut with each step you took before it was slack and taut again.

‘Hey this is the Buckley residence, sorry we can’t come to the phone right now… you should probably leave a message and we’ll try to get back to you but no promises!’

You groaned, pinching your eyes shut as you stood in place waiting for the beep to come but you really wished she would have picked it up and sounded off her lovely voice.

“Hey, Robs, it’s me,” you knew she would be concerned right away when she heard this, your usual bubbly greeting gone and instead replaced with dullness.

“I’m having a really shitty day right now and maybe you can give me a call when you get home? Love you and hope to talk soon.”

It never got this bad, to the point where you felt like you couldn’t move from where you were and even if you wanted to, you had no idea how.

The thought of letting someone you cared about down made your stomach twist and turn. You didn’t have many people in your life, let alone genuine friends. But that all changed when you met Robin and soon after her friends became yours.

Nancy trusted you and was counting on you to be there for her — to show up the way for her the same way she did you. And sweet Will was also counting on you, the boy pitched you the idea and you smiled in his face promising him that it wasn’t only great but that you’d be there to help.

You could already imagine the disappointment in their eyes if you had to tell them you weren’t sure you were the right fit just barely two days before the event. It would totally shatter them, maybe not completely, but enough for them to never ask you for anything ever again because you’d only let them down.

Even when you didn’t mean to, it always happened, and here you were about to repeat it all over again. Losing the people who genuinely cared about you the same way you cared about them just because you couldn’t get out of your own head.

All of your life you had believed that everything good and right just ended up breaking, burning, and ending — it was always your fate. 

DING!

“Oh my god!”

You scrambled off the cushions in a haste, the phone toppling over onto the floor as you ran into the kitchen and threw on the oven mitts as quickly as you could. The smell of burning was only faint, the timer you had set on the microwave beeping two more times before shutting up.

You whipped the oven door opened, a big gush of heat enveloping the air whilst you reached in and grabbed the pan. Frantically searching your kitchen for any free space on the already cluttered counters, you made room on the kitchen table, placing it down on a dish towel to prevent it from developing a heat stain.

Much to your surprise, the cookies were not at all burnt: the colorful sprinkles of funfetti still remained vibrant embedded within the vanilla sugar cookies. You wedged the metal spatula underneath, checking and making sure they were perfectly golden, which in fact they were.

“Fuck my life.” You huffed, throwing off the mitt and raking your hands through your scalp.

The pressure was building, the weight on your chest feeling like the whole town was counting on you when you knew deep down they weren’t. The show would still go on with or without you but it just was principal – being inconsiderate or not.

The phone began to ring, muffled sounds from against your living room carpet as it had fallen over in the midst of the haste. It was probably Robin, concerned about the voicemail you left minutes ago.

“Hey sweet—”

“Steve!”

It was supposed to be a greeting of pleasant surprise not expecting him to be on the other line, despite spending the last week non stop on the phone with each other when you both were free. But all Steve heard was panic and distress, your warm and surprised hello replaced with everything opposite of that, making his mind race.

“Woah, hey, did something happen? Are you okay?”

You couldn't spare him from the truth or not, and it didn’t really matter because he’d end up finding out somehow. You sighed, peeking back into the disaster of your kitchen before looking down at your lap, fidgeting with your fingers. 

“I… well, kinda, not really, I don’t really know.”

“Do you need me to drive down there? I can come right now.”

There was shuffling in the background, his bed squeaking from getting up from it and the sound of his car keys being swiped off the counters. It had you backtracking as quickly as possible, regretting being so vague and making him worry like this knowing he was so far away.

While the thought of him coming down to see you after a week apart sounded enticing, it would be entirely selfish to let him do so. You weren’t Steve’s responsibility to take care of, no matter how much you felt inside for him and how his presence could put you at ease right about now.

For now, you’d settle for the next best thing: him over the phone. 

“Wait, no, that’s not what I mean, I’m sorry…” You squeezed your eyes shut, sniffling a deep breath in, “I just—just was having a really bad day and then I almost burnt the cookies I had in the oven. I’m not hurt, I promise.”

There was a deep sigh at the end of your sentence, the one where he could picture your shoulders falling defeatedly and that terrible frown he hated to see on your face. He could imagine it would be the same sight as when you sat across from him at the diner and felt so horrible about yourself.

If only you were a block away, he’d be at your doorstep in a heartbeat ready to tackle whatever was going on like it was his only duty in the world. To be quite honest he hated the distance between the both of you, like some sort of curse that only you two had to go through.

Way to go for Dustin and Suzies long distance problems.

There was another squeak, his back hitting his bed again before he spoke. “What’s going on?” 

You shook your head, not wanting to dump all of it on him after the day he probably had. “N-nothing. I’m just being dramatic and getting in my head about the farmers market thing.”

There was a migraine already coming to life from the pulse on your temples just thinking about it again. 

“C’mon tell me what’s bothering you.” He pressed, unwavering in his efforts to help you get it off your chest. 

You took another deep breath, falling back onto the couch cushions and this time ready let all the pent up stress go by finally telling someone the truth. 

“I don’t know if I can do it… I mean, I didn’t anticipate for it to be this stressful, you know. Which is stupid of me, I mean what did I think it was gonna be? A walk in the park? I swear, I’m not lazy or anything, I just didn’t realize—”

He cut in before you could even think about finishing that sentence, scoffing incredulously, “Stop it, you don’t have to tell me you’re not lazy because I know you’re not.” 

His voice was soothing and sure, not a hint of uncertainty behind it that made you think otherwise. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at your own negativity that you promised yourself you would stop doing but would always have a habit of. 

“Saying it out loud makes me feel like I am.” You attempted to laugh at yourself to lighten the spirits, but Steve let out a disapproving grunt and you almost see the visual of him shaking his head. 

“You’re such a hard worker, I mean, that’s why Nance picked you. She knew you could do this and I do too.”

Even over the phone he never failed to make your heart melt and cheeks blush. Call yourself cheesy or whatever, but he was the greatest pick me up on days like these. 

Staring up at your ceiling you began getting lost in him despite the lack of visuals. “I kid you not, I think I went back to the grocery store like five whole times. My arms are going to be ripped with how many pounds of flour and sugar I’ve been picking up.” 

He chuckled, trying to picture it in his head. Poor you having to lug bags and bag of flour from the store all the way to your car then back home. 

“You know you could’ve called, I would have come down and helped sooner.”

“I didn’t want to bother you. You’re already doing a lot at work and—”

“Cupcake, I categorize tapes. My job is far from stressful.” His tone went stoic, pretending like he didn’t know what you were talking about.

Steve did more than just categorized tapes. He dealt with the horrible and impatient customers, even the rowdy teenagers who kept wandering back to the adult film section. He put up with a whole lot at work — but you were never someone he had to deal with.

A relief of sorts is what you were – someone he’d call or run to with no hesitation because it just felt right. No obligations, no whys or hows,  just because in his bones, you felt like that person for him. 

His almost.

You’re the one he looked forward to calling after a long hard day knowing that you would be able to make him forget all about it. He could lay there in his bed, eyes shut with the phone glued to his ear and you on the other end of it. Maybe it wasn’t the best substitute for sleep, but in his eyes it was the best rest he could ever get if you weren’t here laying beside him like before. 

Still, your apologies never ceased, too concerned for his own wellbeing. “But you’re on your feet all day and you’re really tired and—”

Steve cut you off, stopping your unnecessary yet thoughtful concern for him. 

“And I still would’ve come down even if I was all of those things. You don’t have to worry about bothering me, you know you never do.” He said it sincerely, a happy and eased way about it like there was no other way to explain it. 

“How do you always do that?” You murmured, voice finally settling into a more relaxed mood the longer you spent away from the chaos.  

“Do what?”

You wiggled around, tapping your fingers against the phone, “You know what I need to hear even when I don’t say it outloud.”

Steve had always been great at that and for someone who claimed to never be good with words, he just knew exactly what to say. He’d like to think it was because the kids needed constant advice in their teenage lives and he came to be better at guiding and explaining things to them. 

But you never asked for advice nor did he feel like you ever needed it. Everything that he’d spew to you came from the bottom of his heart, things that he always wanted to tell you without reservation. 

He pretended to think for a second before replying obviously,  “Hmm, maybe it’s because I care about you?” 

“You care about me?” 

His laugh echoed lightly, thinking you were playing around because how could you not know? Your silence answered his question, and he just knew he had to tell you how serious he was. 

“Of course I do!” You could tell he sat back up on his bed, voice a little stronger now as he continued, “I care about you and I can’t stand hearing you talk so badly about yourself when I’m head over—”

A loud ring erupted through the receiver, a second call on the other line completely cutting Steve off as he was about to put it all out on the table. 

“Shit!”  You winced pulling the phone back and rubbing your ear from where it was ringing. 

“What!?” Steve shouted loud enough to hear with the phone still pulled away from you. 

Looking down at the display, the last name ‘BUCKLEY’ illuminated in bright orange. 

“Umm, Robin is calling… I left her a voicemail and she’s probably worried and I—”

Steve let out a breath of relief, sighing out as he settled back on the springs of his bed. “You can put me on hold, it’s okay.”

“O-okay, sorry, just a minute.” You squeaked, switching the line with your brain still processing what he was on the verge of saying. 

“Hey Ro—”

You couldn’t even get the full greeting out before her voice came to you rushed — you could imagine that’s exactly what Steve heard when you picked up his call a few minutes ago. 

“Oh thank god! I thought something bad happened for a second. Are you alright?” She asked worriedly.

“Yeah! Just kinda had a mini breakdown, but I promise that I’m—”

“Do you want me to come down? I can call Steve or Nance and get a ride there.” She offered quickly without hesitation. 

You truly had the best friends in the entire world… how did you manage to get so lucky?

“No! No! I swear I’m okay… it was just some stupid thoughts about the farmers market thing. You know the stress and whatever.” You reassured her, hoping she wasn’t too strung up on it. 

“Are you sure?” She pressed again just for good measure, “I know Steve would drop everything for me and him to come down and help you.” Her voice lifted with a bit of teasing that you caught. 

You smiled self indulgently, happy to know you had people who were willing to come all the way down here to be with you — it showed that they really cared, and even if you didn’t need them to, hearing it outloud warmed your anxious heart. 

“You’re so sweet, Ro…but I swear, I’m okay! Steve actually called me.” 

“He did?” She gasped. 

She wasn’t actually too surprised considering that these days after scoring your number all Steve would talk about was getting home from work to give you a call before you headed to bed. 

The next morning she would be bombarded with him going on and on about the conversation you two had — little things like what you had for dinner, a stray cat you started feeding, entirely mundane yet sappy things that had him hooked because you were the star of those stories. 

Nevertheless she loved hearing about it — a perfect start to her morning, lunch break, and the entire shift of the day before doing a full repeat the next day. 

“Yeah, he’s on the other line right now.” 

A squeal ensued from her end, one that made a smile pop upon your features because her happiness always had its special way of radiating and lifting up everyone around her.

“Oh perfect! Merge the call!”

“Are you sure? I can tell him I’ll call him back later.” You offered, wanting her to know she would always have your full undivided attention. 

“You can merge it! I actually have something important I really want to tell the both of you if it’s okay?” She said making your mind race with a million different things she could be planning to tell you and Steve if it was this important. 

“Of course, give me a sec.” 

You heard her “mhm,” before you switched lines again and this time Steve’s whistling came through the receiver.

“S-sorry, she was checking in.” You cleared your throat, not doing a great job of masking the croak. 

“Was she jumpy?” He joked, knowing she had a habit of doing that all the time. 

“A little,” you snickered, “she wants me to merge the call. Has something important to tell us.”

“Okay, cool, yeah that’s fine. She called out of work today so I didn’t get to talk to her all day.”

Robin calling out of work was a rarity, sure the job was a little boring, but working with her best friend compensated for that. Steve was usually up to date in advance whether she would be calling out or not – so getting to work today and not seeing her was incredibly weird. 

You cleared your throat once more, fingers twirling around the cord as you spoke kindly, not wanting to let what he did for you go unnoticed. But Steve never did things to be thanked for, you knew that for sure, but still, you would cherish him for taking the time out of his day to be there for you. 

“But umm, I really appreciate what you said earlier, y’know… encouraging me and whatnot.” Your voice was soft, filled with a mixture of gratitude and warmth. 

“You know all you have to do is ask and I’ll be your biggest supporter.” Steve responded happily, making sure that it stuck with you. 

Your fingers hovered over the merge button, contemplating your choice of words before you decided to let it go at the last second. “And Steve?” 

“Hmm?”

“I-I care about you too…a lot, just so you know.” 

You said with an oath-like-whisper hearing his breath hitch with a thick swallow. Clearly he was a little taken aback by your sudden leap of boldness that was usually hidden under your bashfulness that he found endearing, nonetheless. Before Steve could say anything else, you clicked the merge button, a quick static ringing through the receiver before it cleared up. 

A joyful Robin came through the other side. “Can you guys hear me, alright?” 

Steve coughed, trying to steady his heart that was pumping faster as he hung onto your words for dear life. He tried to think of something else in the meantime, knowing he needed to at least survive this phone call before he got to pace his room for the rest of the night and replay the words in his head. 

“Y-yeah.” 

“Yuppers!” 

You obviously did a better job at trying to seem nonchalant.

Robin squealed, the sounds of her getting comfortable on her couch filling the line before she spoke again. 

“I have some really big major news to spill but—”

“But first tell me why you called out of work, dingus? I had to deal with Keith all alone today!” Steve retorted. 

She scoffed loudly, “God, do you ever shut up and listen, Harrington? It’s a part of my story.” 

“Wait, you called out of work because of this big major news?” You asked suspiciously. 

“Yeah…well actually no! I called out of work for a reason that led up to the big major news.” She informed you both. 

“Oh! Well, whenever you’re ready!” You chirped ready for the news. 

“Okay so remember Vickie?” 

Steve clicked his tongue a few times, “Isn’t she still dating that jerk from Purdue?” 

“Not since last month!” 

“What happened between them?” You wondered, not knowing much about Vickie and her history with Robin. 

There was a heavy sigh before a devastating confession. “He cheated on her.”

“Ouch.” You grimaced, biting down on your lip. 

“What an asshole.” Steve muttered. 

“Exactly! But anyway, we ran into each other this morning at the bus stop and we kinda just hit it off and we spent the day together then she kissed me!” 

You gasped and Steve cursed. The both of you were shocked by not only hearing about poor Vicky’s cheating situation, but on top of all that, the fact that she and Robin had swapped spit after how many months of pining. 

“You blew me off for a girl!?”

“Oh shut up Steve, as if you didn’t do it to me before either!” 

If you weren’t so flabbergasted, you’d make a comment about how the two still fought like siblings even over the phone, but you didn’t, too intrigued and wanting to know more details. 

“Did she initiate the kiss?”

“Yes!” 

“Like a peck kiss or like a full fledged make out kiss?” You pressed.

“I-I don’t know! Maybe a little bit of both? I was just following her lead, okay? Last time I kissed a person was back in sixth grade when Donny Humberford dared me to… it was unpleasant and quite honestly was my awakening that I never liked boys.” 

You giggled as Steve went for his round of questions, the two of you taking turns like it was some sort of interrogation. 

“Well, c’mon tell us, was this kiss at least pleasant.” 

Robin sighed a sigh that sounded straight out of a rom-com, you could picture her kicking back her legs and looking so enamored by just the memory itself. 

“The most pleasant kiss I think I’ll ever get.” She sing-songed cheerfully.

“What about if Phoebe Cates kissed you?” He challenged.  

“Okay, woah, that’s totally unfair! Vickie and Phoebe are both hot babes!”

You jumped in again, this time with a very important question that needed to be answered. “Did you foot do the pop up thing?” 

Stuttered words came from Steve, who had no idea what you were talking about. “The what? Is that some sort of sex thing?” 

Robin snorted. “Ew no!” 

“Steve!” You shrieked, covering your face. 

“What?! You said foot and thing in the same sentence and that makes me think of some really gross stuff that I don’t even think the rated X section has.”

Robin gasped, slapping a hand over her mouth, “You’re totally right! Wait, do you think Keith stole all the foot fetish tapes?” She speculated seriously. 

“What the hell is wrong with your boss?” Your face twisted up in horror. 

“He’s a creep.”

Steve was next with a considerate yet weird warning, “Please, if you ever come to visit us, do not wear opened toed shoes at the store.”

“Jesus Christ, yeah, I’ll make sure I remember that. Anyways, the foot thing!” 

“Oh yeah, the foot thing!” Robins snapped gleefully. 

“Would someone just explain the goddamn foot thing?” Steve complained. 

“You know! When you kiss someone you really really like and your foot does that little pop up thing because you’re enjoying it because it’s with them.” You tried your best to explain. 

“Guys don’t really do it though… they pop something else, if you know what I mean.” Robin cracked with a laugh before Steve choked on his spit at the vulgary. 

The line reduced to chortles, you and Robin dying at the joke, while Steve couldn’t help but smile, waiting for you both to settle. 

“And you want to call me filthy?”  He pointed out when it finally died down. 

“No but seriously, she kissed me out of nowhere and I didn’t get the chance to really even process it and I’m just realizing that and, holy shit! I kissed Vickie!” 

“She actually kissed you first but okay.” Steve corrected, though Robin didn’t seem to catch it. 

“Vickie and I’s lips were pressed together! I felt her mouth on mine! Oh my god! I kissed Vickie!”

It wasn’t long before the call was filled with her squeals and screams, Robin completely forgetting about you and Steve while she remembered it all in her own world. Her heavy panting filled the line then, taking a breather from the screams and her recollection of every detail. 

“Honey, do you wanna process that alone?” You suggested indulgently, hoping she would take you up on the offer because it really was a special moment you wanted her to process. 

Thankfully she didn’t even hesitate. “Yeah, I gotta go!”

“Bye-bye now, don’t dream too much about it.” Steve sing-songed before she hung up with a heavy clunk. 

The static rings through for a millisecond as she disconnects, before you and Steve are alone once again. Good-natured and proud laughter comes from both of you, so ecstatic for your friend. 

“That’s adorable! I’m so happy for her!” You gushed with a squeal. 

“I should’ve known something was up! She never calls out of work like that and doesn’t give a reason why.”

“I bet you she’s screaming into her pillow right now.” 

“Or she could be pacing her room with her face in a pillow and screaming.” He added as you both agreed that it would be a very possible ‘Robin-thing-to-do.’

Steve seized the moment with a question of his own. “Have you ever done the foot thing?” 

Laughter came out the second he finished the query, you just couldn’t help the fact that he was asking about that all of a sudden – not that you minded, but you just never imagined Steve Harrington asking about a corny foot pop. 

“Now all I can think about is foot fetish.” You fake gagged. 

“You’re so dirty minded! Okay, okay, has your foot ever done the pop thing…that’s better?”

“Much better,” You crooned, thinking for a moment about all the times in which you’ve been kissed with nothing sticking out, “And, no, I don’t think it’s ever happened to me.” 

“Really?” He sounded surprised, as if it was some sort of shock that you’ve never experienced such a thing. 

“The foot pop is, like, totally memorable, trust me.” 

Steve was half regretful of bringing up such a dumb question, hoping it didn’t make you feel uncomfortable. The last thing he wanted was to remind you of your ex that he already knew you weren’t too fond of. 

“Well who knows? Maybe one day right?” He put it out there into the universe, crossing his fingers that his optimist came through the way he wanted. 

Your small laugh was all it took for him to know everything was just right. “One day.” 

Perhaps it was the hour and the lack of sleep you had been getting for the past couple of days, but you let out a yawn, apologizing in the middle of it as Steve chuckled and told you not to worry about it.  

“I should probably go… I need to get started on the cupcakes and package the cookies up.” You groaned, reality hitting as you looked around your place that was still a complete disaster, and didn’t magically clean itself up. 

“Why don’t you call it a night huh? I’m sure you worked all day.” 

Steve’s voice filled with the same concern as the beginning of the call, still not understanding why you were putting yourself through so much when you were already doing the best you could.  

“Been up and moving since 7 a.m..” You yawned again, rubbing your eyes. 

Steve shook his head, not that you could see him, but he was sure you must have felt his discontent for overworking yourself through the phone. 

“You did so much work, you deserve a break.” He repeated sternly. 

You rubbed your forehead, knowing he was more than right. “Yeah but then that means I’ll still have more work to do tomorrow and—”

“And I’ll come and pick you up and we can bake the rest of the stuff at my place. I’ll help and it’ll be a nice change of scenery for you.” 

Steve was notorious for doing and saying things without using his head, oftentimes leading to horrible and awkward situations. But when it came to you, more times than not, everything he did and said was without thinking of himself and more for the best interest of you. 

He knew you’d been bending over backwards for this event and the last thing he wanted you to do was go at it all alone. Steve knew you were more than capable of doing it all by yourself, but he didn’t want you to – not when he was there willing and able.

“Don’t you have the morning shift tomorrow?” You suspected, having both his and Robin’s schedule memorized by heart. 

“Well Robin owes me so not anymore.” He retorted cheekily. 

Sure, maybe he should have given Robin a break considering kissing Vicky to be an incredible milestone, but if he could survive a shift alone with Keith so could she. Plus, it was for you, so Robin couldn't be too upset if she wanted to. 

“If you’re going to call out I don’t want to make you do more work.” 

“You’re not making me, I want to.” 

He’d do anything when it came to you without even second guessing it. There was something deep down inside of him hoping that you knew and understood that because he needed you to. 

“You’re too good to me.” Your chest rose and fell, a happy breath that was a glimmer of hope to his ears that you knew. 

He took his own breath, glancing over at the alarm clock on his bedside table, “Get some rest and I’ll be over in the morning.” 

“I could drive there if you want? Save you some gas and let you sleep in a bit more.”

“I know you could, but I want to. So please?”

Why Steve was so generous when it came to you, you’d never really understand considering the mess you were. A part of you liked to think that you were the mess he wanted and there was nothing more you wanted to be than his. 

“Y-yeah, sure, thank you.” You stuttered, gripping the phone tightly 

“Get some sleep okay? You deserve it.” He cooed, a smile leaking through his voice that you could see even over the phone. 

“I will.” You promised to smile at the thought of getting to see him so soon. 

“Night sweetheart.”

“Night Stevie.”

Steve shouldn’t like the idea of waking up at the crack of dawn and proceeding to drive to a town an hour away on the one time he called out of work — but when it’s Roane and he’s coming for you, he loved the journey.

He felt more lively than ever even if he had woken up ten minutes before his alarm and ran out of instant coffee to make before he left. All of the little inconveniences didn't matter when he was taking the roads that led straight to you.

There’s a vast difference between the town he grew up in and yours. Hawkins should feel like home, and at times, it really is — his closest friends are there, but then again his parents always come back eventually. And when they do, it feels less than that — like him playing a game of hide and seek trying to avoid them until they go out of town again.

Sometimes there were moments where he just wished that they both packed up their things and relocated permanently so he could stop banking on the moment where they finally woke up and made an attempt to be an actual family — the one he still yearned for even after all of these years of disappointments.

It’s the harsh truth he’s had to face since he was a young teen realizing that they’d always come home, but never for him. A feeling of cruelty that reminded him that no matter how patient he was, his parents would never notice the way they’ve neglected him through the years.

He kept quiet, stayed hidden in plain sight when they were around knowing they could never make up for it — the damage had been done and his home was never going to be home as long as they were around.

But in hindsight, that’s why he enjoyed visiting Roane these days.

He didn’t have to hide or worry about running into one of his father’s friends from the office or his mother’s girlfriends, trying to uphold a conversation with them that he clearly didn’t want to be in. He knew close to nothing about his parents and their whereabouts and didn’t want to unless it was them coming home early and him needing to leave for the next few days.

In Roane there’s no one he’s hiding from… just someone he’s desperate to get to.

But of course an early morning in town isn’t complete without a pit stop at Taylor’s. He’d be damned if he showed up at your doorstep at this hour without a dozen cronuts and your favorite coffee.

He was welcomed with the chime above the door, inhaling the smell of freshly ground coffee and baked breads, a type of homeyness that could never be replicated unless it was coming from your kitchen. 

Like second nature he knew what to get, an order of assorted cronuts, your rose latte with an extra pump of vanilla syrup, and his very plain iced mocha with an extra shot of caffeine to get him through, but he doubted he really needed it when you’d be there beside him the whole day.

“It’s going to be $19.89.” The cashier announced, ringing up the total and he nodded, reaching into his back pocket.

Flipping open his wallet, there was a giddy smile that spilled on his face. The yellow notepad paper folded up and placed within the clear pocket of the billfold, your handwriting reading ‘to: stevie <3’

It’s probably the worst way to store his most prized possession, but the damn thing got him through long work days and even longer ones at the arcade when Max and El begged for $5 to spare — he doesn’t mind them asking if every time he opens his wallet, he’s greeted by something that reminds him of you.

He probably looked like a psycho taking too long to grab a $20 bill with him distracted. Finally sliding the cash across the counter, he waited for his change before tucking it back into his wallet and stuffing the receipt into his pocket and stepping off to the side waiting for the drinks to be done.

“Steven!”

The greeting came from the woman walking through the front door, the chime of the bell above her not at all audible with her voice bellowing within the small space. She wore a big big smile, arms held out wide as she approached him.

He cracked a grin, letting her pull him in as he hugged her warmly. “Dorothea.”

She was just as lively at seven in the morning as she is at ten at night at the diner.

“I haven’t seen you around in a while. You two haven’t stopped seeing each other already have you?” She lifted a weary brow, voice laced with a bit of teasing. 

Steve shook his head, shyly smiling at her insinuation of what you two had going on. “I’ve just been working a lot, these days. I’m going to see her right now, just came by to pick up some breakfast for us.” He gestured towards the counter of packaged goodies. 

“Aren’t you such a gentleman? You know if I could clone ya, I would!” She pinched his cheek playfully.

God, she reminded him of his great grandmother he hadn’t seen since he was seven.

“That’s uh…very sweet of you. Thank you.” Steve smiled sincerely, hoping he didn’t look too strained. 

She gripped onto his arm, squeezing as she smiled from ear to ear. “Well tell her I said hello! She hasn’t been to the diner in a while, must be locked up in her apartment painting or something.”

“That and baking.” Steve replied with a proud grin. “She’s in charge of a booth at the Hawkins market tomorrow.”

“No kidding?” She tilted her head, strikingly, always amazed at the amount of things you were able to juggle. 

“You should come, she’ll be happy to see some familiar faces around.” He extended the invite warmly, cursing himself for not having a flyer on hand to give her in case. 

“Order for Steve.”  

He gave her another smile, “Hope we see you there,”

“I’ll try my best, pumpkin! You two enjoy your breakfast, now.”

And he was off, back on track to his destination with the goods secured knowing it would make your morning better even if you were not so much an early bird. It’s little things like this that he knew he could do to make your day a little less stressful especially since he anticipated plenty of baking for the next few hours.

But he hoped with his presence you’d find it in yourself to not put so much pressure on yourself. He was there for a reason, wanted to give you a hand and take some of it off your plate so that you could relax a bit.

Sure, he didn’t really know much about baking, but he was willing to learn for you.

The drive to your place was short, not too far away from the cafe. Your apartment complex was tucked away from the main parts of town, hidden just a few miles away from Taylor’s and the diner.

It was a quiet yet cozy neighborhood, everything about it screamed your name. 

Flowers of all kinds littered the boulevard, bright yellows and pinks peeking out through the tall green grass and dancing in the sun, accompanied with a light breeze of air as he drove by.

Stray kittens and puppies roamed the sidewalk like community pets, nuzzling up against the ankles of children who walked hand in hand with their parents and siblings towards the bus stop for school.

Tall oak trees that had been standing for years lined the sidewalks housing birds and their babies on branches where they also got the best view of the sunrise at their peaks.

Elderly couples mingled with others, dressed in their cozy morning attire and some still in their pajamas hoping to get some exercise in the summer nice weather that would soon be replaced with autumn.

Quite frankly this place held everything and more that Steve wanted for his life. The atmosphere filled with some sort of magic potion that had him wanting to stay forever if it meant that he got to walk these same sidewalks and drive down the same roads with you by his side.

It was stupid and far-fetched idea considering the circumstances he was in, but he’d still like to think that someday this would be the place he called home. Somewhere where he didn’t have to just watch happy people living their lives with the ones they loved, but where he could be doing the same too.

“Here we are.” Steve whistled, turning his wheel into the complex a few blocks away from the main homes.

He was glad you lived on the ground floor, not because it would save him time to take all the items into yours, but because your place greeted him through the windshield every time he pulled up and placed his car into park next to yours.

Your front porch, while not having much space, was still decorated with everything that made you, you.

Fresh herbs planted in a small basin that sat on the railing of the entrance and a trellis of green vines resting against the wall beside your front door. There was a welcome mat placed at the doorstep along with a pair of gardening boots that were too big your size, an attempt to scare off potential burglars who want to mess with a hypothetical giant with a size 10 foot — Steve laughed like a maniac when you told him about that.

He shut the car off, reaching for the coffees and juggling the box in one hand as he shut the door with his hip and approached your front door steps.

Setting down his drink, he brought his fists up to the door knocking firmly. “Sweetheart, it’s me!”

He waited, listening to hear your voice call out for him followed by your footsteps thudding against the wooden floors as you ran towards the door, but all he heard was silence. Not even the sound of music playing through your record player or the morning news on your television.

Just pure silence.

He frowned, knocking again this time a little louder. “You in there? It’s Steve.”

Still no answer. 

He pressed his ear to the door, complete silence, not even a peep of water running from the shower which confirmed his suspicion that you were still very much asleep. Though he wasn’t surprised, you were probably in bed sleeping soundly after all the work you did yesterday. 

Steve set the items down on the porch, looking around the area until his eyes landed on the pot tucked away in the corner  — it was a fake succulent where you planted a spare key. He tried to tell you how unsafe it was to keep a key out there in the open but you claimed no one would try to pluck a key out of a creepily real looking cactus.

Smart girl you were. 

“Gotcha.” He smirked, plucking the key away from the bottom of the pot and approaching the door with it in hand. 

“I’m coming in, cupcake.” Steve called out one last time with a knock. A warning, hopeful that you finally had woken up but to no avail there was still silence.

He sighed, sticking the key into the lock and turning it open and carefully pushing the door in not wanting to startle you. But alas, he didn’t think that it was even possible when you were cramped up on the couch sleeping soundly. 

“Oh, christ.” He said under his breath, quietly stopping in his tracks. 

You had a blanket partially pulled over yourself keeping you warm enough to bear the entire night. Your hair was sprawled out across the cushions, strands resting along your cheeks. You slept like a baby, curled up in an awkward yet comfortable position. 

Steve quickly picked up the coffees and baked goods, shutting the door as quietly as possible as he toed off his shoes and rested the items onto the coffee table.

He looked towards the kitchen, finally aware of the sheer magnitude of work you had been doing. Sure it was a bit of a mess, but he was relieved a bit to know that you got some rest like he suggested. 

“Sweetheart,” Steve whispered softly, bending at the couch where he shook your shoulders gently.

You only stirred, keening as you nuzzled yourself deeper into the cushions, eyes pinching tighter to stay asleep. He felt terrible for having to be the one to wake you up, but it had to be done. 

“Honey, it’s almost seven… you gotta get up.” He spoke a tad louder, brushing back your hair out of your face until you pressed your cheek to his hand, gluing it there so he couldn’t move. 

“Hmmm, no it’s not.” You argued sleepily with your eyes still closed, licking your lips as you remained comfortable. 

You were cute even at this early hour and he would have loved to let you stay in bed but he knew it would throw off your entire game plan and have you rushing more than you already were. 

“C’mon doll,” He shook you again, this time with enough firmness to get your eyes pinching and peaking open. 

He gave you a small smile, mouthing ‘good morning,’ as you stared blankly at him, not a single thought behind your tired eyes other than it had to have been a dream that felt too real. 

“I had to use the key to get in… you fell asleep out here last night.” His voice was faint, not wanting to rudely pour all this information on you so early in the morning.

Clear confusion accompanied the tiredness, just starting to really wake up and fathom that Steve was hovering above you and it wasn’t a trick your brain was playing on you.. 

“W-what?” You yawned, shutting your eyes again and giving them a rub. 

“It’s 7 in the morning, sweet thing. You overslept a little.” His thumb moved up to caress the skin under your eyes, soothing your harsh rubbing. 

You moaned out an objection, shaking your head against his hand, “No, I didn’t.” 

He laughed, shaking his head at your positivity before finally pulling his hand from your cheek to lift his sleeve and hover the watch over your face.

 “Look, honey.”

It took you a second, eyes still clouded with fatigue as you squinted up at the hands of the clock. Slowly you began to process it, the short hand pointing sharply at the 7 and the mere fact that Steve was in fact before your eyes with the purest look of fondness despite the hour. 

“Holy shit!” Your eyes widened, pushing the blankets off yourself in a haste and sitting up. 

“It’s okay—”

Your eyes darted to him, frowning deeply, torn between embarrassment and stupidity for having him wait out there for god knows how long. 

“I swear I set a timer for fifteen minutes,” you huffed, pointing towards the coffee table for the stupid kitchen timer that he proceeded to pick up and shake. 

“I was supposed to take out the trash and pack up the cookies.” You explained, watching as he sat it back down and gave you a reassuring shake of his head, unbothered by the situation. 

“It’s okay, maybe you just didn’t hear it.” He tried, hoping you would give yourself the benefit of the doubt instead of beating yourself up.  

You took a deep breath, offering a tight smile as you patted the space next to you and gathered the blankets over your shoulders. He took a seat, getting comfortable beside you, watching how you closed the space until your knees were knocking against each other. 

“I’m really so sorry… were you waiting long?” You glanced over to him.  

He shook his head, reaching over to brush your hair over your shoulder. “Nope, I just got here. Thought I told you to rest up last night?”

“You did,” You said guilty, watching his hand drop back down to his lap, “Buuut I just wanted to get a few more things done and I was supposed to have a power nap then clean the place up.”

You combed your fingers through the roots of your head, resting your elbows on your knees as you realized the mess was still very much there and Steve had to be here to witness the catastrophe.

Just as quickly as his hand dropped to his lap, it came back out to rest over your knee, fingers rubbing assuringly as he gave you a sequence of squeezes to get you looking at him again. 

 “S’okay, you needed it.” He assured you, his touches never ceasing as his chin poked out towards the coffee table. “I got you some coffee and your favorite.”

Sure enough there was a box of piping hot cronuts filling your apartment with their decadence, and a cup of your favorite morning drink rested right beside his half finished one. 

Steve’s generosity was something you never thought you could get used to, but by now you should’ve known that he always went above and beyond… at least for you. 

“You didn’t have to.” You whispered thankfully, closing your eyes as you tilted your head onto his shoulder.  

He slotted closer to you, keeping his thumbs rubbing your skin in random patterns as you felt him shake his head against yours, simply murmuring, “I wanted to,” in the quiet space. 

For once, in the last few days that you spent in the haze of stress and anxiety, today felt like the calmest morning you had all week. Despite you nearly burning your apartment down and falling asleep in the living room in less than 24 hours, with Steve here, it seemed like he brought some sort of magical potion that had you thinking everything was going to be okay. 

It was difficult for your heart to swell and get tight in the confines of your chest when you realized that peace could be this. The two of you spending mornings like this, even when you were the farthest thing from peace – maybe it was him who could give it to you. 

The two of you sat around for a few minutes in complete silence, just enjoying each other's presence for what it was worth right now. Something about it felt domesticated in the best way possible, knowing the simplest things in life like this were free. 

“I’m gonna go shower really quick.” You announced, slowly pulling away from his side and stretching your arms out.  

He retracted his hand from your skin, being the first to stand up, “I’ll put your coffee in the fridge for now.” Steve headed towards the kitchen with your drink in hand. 

Your feet continued across the floors padding towards your bedroom, bed still freshly made having not slept on it the night before. Sure your back should have been aching from sleeping on the less than suitable couch, but you got the rest you needed and that’s what mattered.

You pulled open your closet, settling for a loose dress to sport instead of jeans knowing they’d probably be covered in flour and sugar by the end of the day. You pulled your towel from the hanger on your door and walked across the hall towards the bathroom.

Catching a glance at yourself in the mirror, you looked exhausted — the clear fatigue that had been building up over the last couple of days settled and ended up with the after effects of the burnout showing on your skin. A cold shower was what you needed, icy water cascading your body, doing its very best to wake you up and rid you of the exhaustion. 

You didn’t keep Steve waiting long, out of the shower in less than fifteen minutes and by then you could hear the slight clambering of dishes coming from the kitchen. 

“Have you eaten yet?” You shouted loud enough to hear, combing your fingers through your semi-damp ends.

More clambering came through the door, before you heard a loud dramatically loud scoff, “Without you? Of course not!” 

You grinned in the mirror, rolling your eyes at his quick wit before finally shutting off the lights and heading down the hallway to see what he was up to. 

Once you got him in sight, his hands were drying the dishes in the rack and there was no longer the clutter of the dirty ones in the sink. He stacked the mixing bowls on top of one another before noticing your presence lingering behind him. 

“I took out the trash and did some dishes. Didn’t want to get started without you.” He hung the damp towel over the oven handle before gesturing over to the empty trash can that was once overflowing.

“Steve, you’re a guest.” You chastised, going around the kitchen to pick up the small bits of trash that stuck around.  

“A considerate one at the least.” He shrugged his shoulders, following you around like a lost puppy and offering his hand out to take the remnants of the garbage from you to toss into the bin himself. 

“Well, thank you.” You grinned, moving around him to throw it in trash, before he grunted out a snicker. 

“C’mon let’s sit down and eat before we get going.” 

He had already brought some plates out, moving next to the drawers to grab some utensils. For whatever reason, warmth bloomed in your heart, happy to see that Steve was just as comfortable in your home as you were in his. Simplicity in him knowing where things were was a sort of happiness you couldn’t explain. 

You bit your lip, walking over to the fridge to open it before looking over your shoulder. “Did you want me to make some more food?”

He shook his head, opening the box of cronuts and fishing two out for the both of you. “I’m okay, but I could whip up some scrambled eggs for you?”

He looked up from the sweets, seeing you nod your head with a desperate look on your face as you held your stomach. Last night you hadn’t eaten much so you really needed to make up for it by having a hearty meal to set you up for the rest of the day's work. 

“Coming right up.” He drummed his fingers off the dining table, as you switched places. 

The kitchen was soundly, not much with chatter this early in the morning, but with the sizzling from the pan as Steve poured in the eggy mixture and the soft buzz of the toaster oven where you warmed up the  cronuts. It wasn’t like the morning at Steve’s where you waltzed around the kitchen — it was much slower, yet filled with the same amount of domesticity. 

Steve could tell you were still tired, the grogginess seeping slowly out of your bones the more you sipped on your coffee and tapped your toes against the tiles watching the oven closely. You weren’t trying to hide it from him on purpose, but he noticed that with every small yawn you let out, you turned away from him, trying to brush it off with a headshake. 

He didn’t put a spotlight on it though, just happily smiling to himself as he stirred the eggs and watched you in his peripheral vision. The high pitched ding rang through the small space and you sighed contently, slipping on the oven mitt and reaching for a pair of tongs to grab the pastries, plating them nicely on two plates.

“You can start eating if you want.” He insisted, turning his head to follow you when you skimmed past him 

You hummed disapprovingly, setting them on the coffee table before making your way back to him,“No, come on I’ll wait for you. Let me wash the–”

He lunged over, getting in the way of you turning on the faucet, “Stop it, you’re gonna overwork yourself.”

You huffed at the absurdity of the situation, seeing as though he was the one who was already overworking himself and it was barely 8 in the morning. 

“I’ve barely done anything all morning.” You argued with a light laugh, attempting to get past his arms and switch the water on. 

Still he stood his ground, not letting your pushing move him with your nudges, “Considering the amount of work you did last night, you shouldn't be doing anything right now.” 

You crossed your arms over your chest tilting your head at him. “You’re not gonna give up, are you?” 

He shook his head, pointing back at the living room with the spatula still in hand. “Not a chance! Now go sit down, I’ll be there in a second.”

“Fine!” You drawled, heavily stomping your foot down and turning on your heel back to the living room. 

Steve’s eyes never left yours, even when his back was turned to you, he could feel you attempting to tidy up your living room in the slightest way, to which he simply bellowed, “sit and relax,” before you were shuffling back into the couch cushions, mumbling how he had eyes on the back of his head like a mother would to which he laughed. 

The kids would certainly agree. 

After a few minutes, you heard the burner shut off, and his footsteps walking over to you.

“Breakfast is served.” he announced, setting the eggs in front of you.

“You’re an angel.” You looked at him, grinning as he handed you a fork from where it was hiding behind his back. 

“I’m flattered.” He took a seat beside you and picked up his plate, “So tell me what’s the plan for today.”

You took a bite out of your eggs, chewing and swallowing them down. “Yesterday I made the frosting for the cupcakes so today we’re gonna make them and ice them.”

“What flavor?”

“Maple and Raspberry.”

His face twisted, lips curled up before he spoke, “I’ve never heard of that combination before.”

“No silly,” You covered your mouth from giggling, “The maple frosting is for the brown sugar cupcakes and the raspberry frosting is for the hibiscus cupcakes, but they also do have a little bit of raspberry in them.”

His bottom lip jutted out over his top one, nodding at your correction, before he lifted a playful brow at you. “But can’t you tell I trust you so much that I thought Maple and Raspberry would be good together?”

Steve trusted you more than he trusted himself which said a lot considering that he was usually pretty set and stone with the way he did things in his own life. After all, his parents didn't play a big role in his so he had to figure out a lot of it by himself. But when it came to you, trust came easy knowing you wouldn’t drop his hand if you told him you wouldn’t. That was the territory between you both, promising and keeping your word – never letting the other fall. 

“If we have any extras maybe we can test it out.” You suggested with a nudge of your elbow into his arm as the two you both smiled and continued to eat.

“How was work yesterday? I didn’t get the chance to ask you over the phone.” You shifted your knees towards him. 

His face covered with mock horror, while you playfully gasped, watching him set his plate down.“Hell. I honestly think it was the most grueling eight hours of my life.”

“It couldn’t be that bad.” You tried to reason with disbelief in your voice, because really, how bad could it have been? 

“Being forced to work a shift with Keith is literal hell. I mean for one he could not shut up and for someone who claims they love movies, he just kept talking over all of the stupid tapes I put on to try to shut him out.” Steve rolled his eyes at the recollection, so thrilled that he wasn’t stuck in the same predicament today. 

“And isn’t Robin working with him today?” You stifled your laughter, for your dear friend who was probably dealing with Keith all by herself right now. 

There was a devious smirk replacing his distaste for yesterday realizing he had planned it accordingly without realizing.

 “Yep, but she’s got a half day so technically she’s only spending half a day in hell with him.”

“You’re horribly considerate for someone who was upset that she called out for a girl.”

Steve shrugged nonchalantly, knowing he couldn’t be too upset at Robin. After all, she was his best friend and sure he was pissed for having to work with Keith, but he was happy that she finally got to spend time with Vicky, the same girl she had been pining over since forever. 

“Had I known it was for Vicky I would’ve called out too and came down here to help out sooner, but I thought she caught the flu or something.” He turned his nose up, happier that his best friend didn’t catch anything bad except the love bug. 

Your face contorted with irritation at yourself, waving your hand in the air, “Trust me when I say you’d be glad you skipped out on the mess yesterday.” 

He didn’t skip a beat, shaking his head at you being ridiculous because he’d never miss out a chance to be with you.

 “I wouldn’t have minded anyway.” 

While his words were true, and you definitely believed that he wouldn’t have minded considering he cleaned up the place while you were showering, you felt a little hopeless knowing he was picking up the pieces when he didn’t have to. 

“You know I still feel a little bad that you’re spending your day off helping me bake.” You placed the plate onto the table, letting your shoulders sulk deeper with your hands twiddling in your lap. 

“Why?” He lifted his brows, genuinely confused at why you would feel bad for him where there was nowhere else he’d rather be.  

You gave him a small shrug, looking up at him with uncertainty. “Because you should be doing something you want to do or better yet resting in bed preferably.”

He hated when you tried to look out for him more than yourself, immediately taking your nervous fingers away from your lap and holding them in his. You stared at him, holding on tight and wondering what was going to come out of his mouth. 

“I am doing something I want to do with the person I prefer to be with right now.” 

There was a twinge of vulnerability in his tone and you could see the way it painted his features whole. How you could tell, he was telling the truth about wanting to be here with you and not just doing it because he felt obligated to. 

Your heart was seriously going to break itself out of your chest soon. 

“You’re gonna regret saying that once I turn your kitchen into a disaster.” You joked, squeezing his hand in yours and not letting go. 

He pursed his lips, shaking your comment off, preparing for the said disaster in his kitchen as long as you were going to be there. Becoming a deadweight with his hand in yours, you easily pulled his arm up, neck adjusting to get the time on his watch. 

“If I’m planning it out in my head correctly then we should be done by this afternoon and that way you can drop me off before traffic hits and I’ll drive down tomorrow morn—”

“Pack a bag and spend the night.”

“Huh?”

“Just stay the night at mine that way you won’t need to drive down so early for the farmers market.” He explained like you should’ve known it was the plan all along. 

You couldn’t help but throw your head back, staring at the ceiling as you called out his name in faux exasperation.

“Steveeeee.”

“What?” He pursed his lips slyly, pulling you by the shoulders to get you looking at him again, “you’ll get to spend a few extra minutes in bed and you’ll be saving gas. Basically killing two birds with one stone.”

“But I don’t want to be stuck in your hair the entire day.” You protested. 

His brows lifted suspiciously as his lips twitched up trying to resist the grin, “Woah, you plan on gluing yourself to me or something? Cause if you are, I don’t know if I could forgive you for messing up my mane.”

“You’re impossible,” You nudge his shoulder with a weak fist failing to hide your smile, “I don’t want to be a burden. What if you have plans?”

“I do have plans, silly.” He began, reaching for your hand and rubbing his thumbs across your open palms, “and all of them involve you.”

“You know you’re making this very hard for me to decline.” You attempted to harden your features, but to no avail the smile crept through. 

He patted your knee with a victorious look on his face. “Good. We can spend the day baking and prepping then we can sit back and relax. Maybe go out by the pool and sunbathe… Oh! And I got a new tape so we can watch it before bed or something.”

“Sounds tempting.” You fizzled through your teeth, squinting your eyes decisively. 

“That means it’s working and you should say yes.” He whispered, like a voice of reason. 

“Okay.”

“Great, now go pack a bag.” He patted your leg, one, two, three times before standing up and gathering your empty plates in a stack.

“Will you do me a favor while I do that?” You stood, trailing behind him into the kitchen where he was placing the dishes in the sink. 

“Yes, I’ll wash the dishes—”

“No, not that!” You laughed, gesturing him towards the counters where a rack of cookies sat alongside other crafty materials. “I need you to package the cookies in little plastic baggies and tie them off with ribbon.”

“I can definitely do that, too.” 

“I got a few done last night but fell asleep before I could finish.” You picked an example up, showing it to him. 

“Don’t worry about it, I can do the rest.” He took the baggie from your hands, ushering you away with a shoo of his hands. 

You thanked him before heading back into your bedroom quickly grabbing the canvas bag that hung above your door as you sifted through your drawers and closet for some clothes.

You picked out a floral dress for tomorrow's event, and settled for an extra set of intimates — you packed an oversized tee and some jeans in case but you knew Steve would let you borrow some of his if you needed and he still had your pair of overalls that he hadn’t given back yet.

“Do I double knot them?” Steve called out.

“Yeah and you can snip the ends to make them even!” 

“Got it, thanks!”

You slung the bag over your shoulder, drawing the curtains and unplugging your lamp just in case since you’d be gone for the night… maybe even the entire weekend. The only thing left to pack was your skincare products, throwing them in a small pouch and making a mental note to set them on the bathroom counter when you got to his to prevent any from leaking out onto your clothes.

Steve finished off tying the last baggie of cookies, bunny earring them and snipping off little bits of the ends to try to make them look as cute as your sample did.

“What do you think?” He held his work of art up as he heard your footsteps coming closer. 

You grinned, holding your hands out before he plopped it into your palm while you inspected it. 

“They’re adorable!” You giggled, smoothing the frayed edges of the cut ribbon.

“Are you trying to be nice? You can tell me if they look bad.” He pouted, attempting to take it back from you to redo the bow knowing you took pride in anything that was yours. 

You shook your head, keeping it towards your chest and away from him. “No, I’m serious! They look so cute, thank you for doing them.” 

His cheek was met with a quick kiss, before you brushed past him putting down your things on the living floor before sauntering back into the kitchen with a mission to get everything ready to go. 

“Y-you’re welcome,” He coughed out, kindly covering the crack in his voice with a sweet smile before he turned to watch you, “Anything else I can do?”

“Stop being so nice.” You poked out your tongue, beginning to pack the cookies into a brown bag for easier transportation. 

He huffed, helping you without being asked, “Now that would turn me into Mike and I don’t think you’d want that.”

“Do you have some vendetta against him or something?” You questioned, hands hitting his with every grab and toss. 

“Oh we all do” He snorted, swiftly sweeping the bag away from you, before pulling the keys out of his pocket.

“I’ll go put your stuff in my car.”

He proceeded to grab the rest of your belongings, lugging the bag you packed and the other stuff to his car all in one go. You triple checked all the appliances making sure everything was unplugged and turned off before you began drawing all the curtains to completely dim the place for the next couple of days. 

“Ready to go?” 

“Yep, just gonna grab the paintings.” You nodded, pointing to the small crate full of finished canvas that you would be selling at the market. 

He didn’t let you even try, immediately beating you the distance and grabbing the box, holding it on his hip as he held the front door open for you. Sticking by your side as he watched you lock up, being your second eyes and even pulling on the handle for an extra precautionary measure. 

The air conditioning had been running, thankfully cooling down the vehicle as you buckled in and watched from the rear view mirror while Steve closed the trunk shut and rounded his way into his seat and did the same. 

“Why don’t you close your eyes until we get to my place?” He suggested, glancing over to you while turning on the radio trying to find a station you would enjoy. 

A dramatic gasp left your lips as you slapped down his visor, opening the mirror to check yourself out. “Wow, do I look that tired?” You half joked, placing your hands on your cheeks in horror. 

“Stop, that’s not what I meant,” He chuckled, reaching over to flip it back into place with a tight regretful smile, “What I meant to say was you didn’t get much sleep last night and it could help a little bit to just close your eyes before doing more work today.”

“But I feel bad, you’ll probably be so bored in complete silence.”

He wondered if you always worried about him this much and while it was cute, he’d have to tell you to stop eventually, because worrying would do you no good, especially if it was about him. 

“You know, you’re gonna need to stop feeling bad for me all the time.” He lectured, tilting his head at you. 

“I can’t help it when you’re stuck with me.”

“Will you please just try to nap at least?” His voice was more optimistic and you nodded skeptically.  

“Fine, but you have to wake me up if you get bored.”

“Deal. Here, this’ll be more comfy.”  He said, leaning across the console and reaching for the lever to lean your chair back all the way for max comfortability. You covered your face, laughing behind them as you wiggled and got comfier in the seat.

“Comfier?” He brought his hands back to the wheel, watching as you nodded your head with closed eyes. 

“Way better than my couch.” You mumbled, positioning yourself towards him, still getting snug in the confines of his car.

He pulled up the emergency break, beginning the journey with one last look at you. “I’ll wake you up when we get there, sweetheart.”

Steve knew you were a natural in the kitchen — ran that place like it was your second home, but what he didn’t anticipate was how you worked when it came to strictly baking. Perhaps him suggesting the nap on the drive to his place was a great idea considering the fact that you were wide awake and running on that coffee he picked up.

He could barely keep up, straying behind to wherever you would go — oven, pantry, fridge, sink, repeat. It was endearing and far from something that Steve would categorize as chaos, in his eyes this was your comfort, somewhere it all just came to you naturally, which also included dishing out tasks, ones that Steve was happy to take up. 

His bottom lip was pulled between his teeth, brows scrunching towards the center of his forehead while his hands squeezed the piping bag and wrists swirled it slowly around the tops of the cupcakes.

You bent at the hips, looking through the glass window of the oven checking up on the loaves that had been baking, making sure they were rising properly. Standing up straight, you dusted your hands sneaking up behind Steve to catch a glimpse from over his shoulders.

“You’re doing great!” You whispered cheerfully, not wanting to throw him off his focus.

His shoulders only bumped as he chuckled, head tilting abruptly to the side before finishing off the swirl and setting the piping bag down.

“It’s a little crooked don’t you think?” Steve frowned, picking up the treat and holding it out in front of him.

You shook your head, rubbing his shoulders, “They’re perfect and you’re a complete pro already.”

“Okay now that’s a reach.” He placed it down, turning to you with an unconvinced yet charming grin. 

You tucked your cheek into your shoulder, shrugging, “What? I’m being serious! I messed up like a whole dozen cupcakes before I ever got good and here you are only three in and they’re gorgeous.”

“You’re really making me consider switching careers to part time cupcake piper you know that?”

“I’ll hire you on the spot.”

“Geez, offer a man some insurance first.”

Your face twisted apologetically before spreading with a self indulgently smile, “Probably can’t do that, but I can assure you I know how to properly dress a cut if you end up slicing your hand open!” You chirped sweetly, tapping his cheek with an affectionate pat chuckling against your touch.

The ding of the timer set off, prompting you to turn around and make your way back to the oven, slipping on the mits. A gush of hot air enveloped you as you took out the hot loafs, setting them on the stove. Quickly you shut the door, tossing off the mits as you inspected them with your eyes first. 

“How do they look?” Steve asked, coming beside you as you poked the tip of a knife through the center checking if it was baked all the way through.

A quick second to examine the knife to ensure there was no residue was all it took before you nodded, “Wonderful, but they’ll look even better once I glaze them.”

“What do you need?” He rose his brows heading over to the cabinets ready to get whatever you needed. 

Likewise you went towards the fridge, “Powdered sugar and preferably whole milk — ah ha! Whole milk it is.” you clicked your tongue, peeking past the door to see him looking through the tins and bags.

He cursed under his breath, closing the door a bit to meet your eyes. “I don’t think I’ve got any powdered sugar in here. I should've asked you last night if you needed anything before.”

You shook your head, turning back towards the fridge, “That’s okay, we can go to the store together later?” You suggested going to put the milk back. 

He snapped his fingers, pointing at you. “Better idea, why don’t you go now and I’ll stay back and finish frosting up these cupcakes, hmm?”

“I could wait for you, I don’t need to frost them right away.”

“You need a break, sweetheart. I’ll be fine, here,” He paused, walking out of the kitchen with you trailing behind him into the living room, “Take my car and let me give you some cash.”

“Steve, I don’t need your money.” You countered with a light chuckle, taking the keys from him as he reached into his pocket shaking his head.

“No seriously, take it and get whatever you need. I feel like shit for not asking before and making sure I had all the ingredients.”

He truly felt horrible and you could tell in the way he scrunched his brows and shook his head more at himself than towards you. The last thing he wanted was to fuck up your whole process that he knew you always took the time to run through effortlessly. 

“You’re already doing enough, you know.” You remind him with a tender rub to his shoulder, “It means a lot…you talking to me over the phone, bringing breakfast over this morning, and taking all the way here to make sure I wasn’t lonely.”

It was a true sentiment that you spoke and meant every word of. You were sure that no amount of baked goods or thank yous would ever be enough to show Steve how grateful you were.

“I wanted to, you’ve done so much for everyone, me especially.” He knew you went out of your way for everyone including himself, putting everyone first except you. 

“Well, I wanted to.” You assured him. 

“In that case, I want you to take this and get whatever we need. Please?” He placed the bills in the palm of your hand, smiling when you nodded and palmed it. 

“Do you want anything specific? I think I’m just gonna pick up a bag of powdered sugar and a small thing of white chocolate chips for the scones.” You picked up your purse you had thrown onto the coffee table where you arrived.

He shook his head, walking you to the front door and pulling it open, waiting as you slipped back on your footwear. “I’m alright, I don’t need anything. Just drive safely and don’t be scared to use the horn if you need it.”

You let out a laugh, tiptoeing and placing a kiss on his cheek, “I will and don’t stress about the cupcakes, they already look perfect.”

As you buckled your seatbelt and adjusted the mirrors, you took one more look out the windshield, waving a “see you in a bit,” to the boy watching from the driveway. It was funny to think that the first time you’d been there, you had been sitting in your own car anticipating the entire moment of meeting everyone and now you were there in his car knowing you’d be back in no time. 

Hawkins wasn’t new territory to you. You have frequented the place for years, but it was just a little funny that throughout all the years, these roads never led you to Steve, and all your friends for that matter, until now.

The grocery store you walked into was the same one where you met Robin and from there the rest was history. Funny enough, you hadn’t been there since that interaction — it felt like forever but at the same time it had only been a matter of weeks. Time was silly thing, and it just so happened that all the fates aligned in some magical way.

You strolled through the aisles with a small basket in hand, picking up the necessities while also checking out what they had in stock this time of year. It was in the produce section that you ran into the sweetest lady in town, Joyce, who was seemingly glaring at the tower of apples debating on which ones to pick.

“Granny Smiths, Fuji, and Galas are the go-to if you’re gonna use them for baking, but if not then any will do, just make sure none of them have noticeable dents.” 

You snuck up beside her, stifling your laughter as she jumped for the initial scare, then again, but with a smile on her face when she realized that it was you.

“Honey! Oh my god, I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever!” She quickly engulfed you in a hug, before you finally greeted her properly.

“Are you here with Steve?” She asked, looking around to see if he was nearby.

You shook your head, checking out the pile of apples and picking some for you and him as a snack.. “No, he’s actually back at his place frosting cupcakes for tomorrow.”

An impressed smile was plastered on her face, her cheeks lifting with a cheeky blush, “He’s just the best huh?” she teased, as you giggled and rolled your eyes playfully.

“Who’s the best?”

The deep voice bellowed a few feet behind you, prompting you to look over your shoulder, and down came Hopper sporting a surprising pale pastel button up, lugging two boxes of Coca-Cola. He gave you a pointed look, something that silently said, “please don’t comment on my non-work attire,” to which you honored, obviously.

“Hey Hop,” You waved, reaching out to give him a small hug after he placed the drinks into the cart. He patted your arm, before letting his drape over your shoulder as you laughed and let him be.

“We were talking about Steve,” Joyce started, “He’s back at home helping her out with the bake sale for tomorrow.”

He peered down on you with a stern nod, “Well isn’t that great. Drove down here yourself? Car not giving you any issue right?”

He really was a dad right down to his core. If you told him how you’ve been avoiding driving your car for the past couple of days, he would probably suggest he go check it out then and there.

“Oh no, Steve actually picked me up this morning and let me take his car to come here for some stuff we needed.”

“He let you drive his car?” He questioned, taken aback and clearly so as he dropped his arm and propped it up on his hip.

“I know, crazy right. He has a lot of trust in me.” You coughed up a laugh, while Joyce piped in something about how she thought it was sweet of him to do.

“Says a lot considering he never even lets me take her for a spin.” He shook his head, dramatically clicking his tongue at all the times he had failed to get the keys to the Harrington vehicle. 

Joyce groaned, tilting her head at him.“That’s because you’re a forty year old man that drives like a drunk sixteen year old on prom night.”

“Ouch!” He shouted, face coated in fake hurt as she brushed him off.

Turning her attention back to you when you asked, “Will I be seeing you guys tomorrow?”

She smiled brightly, clapping her hands towards herself, “Oh of course! I’m helping Karen run her book exchange booths.”

“And I am acting as security.” Hop announced, plucking an apple and taking a bite out of it.

“Just you? Where’s the rest of your unit?” You pestered him jokingly.

He only shrugged, mouth full of half chewed up apples as he replied.“I have no idea, but the event will need some securing.”

“Honey, it’s a farmers market. I don't think there’s anything to be securing.” Joyce reasoned.

“We’ll see about that.” He shot back with no harm.

Their bickering was always light hearted and fun, something you could appreciate because it was the laughter that always kept the relationship lively. And in any relationship for that matter, laughter was like the heartbeat to it all, something so witty, but essential — you wondered if you and Steve sounded like that from time to time.

You took a deep breath, smiling as you opened your arms, and reached over to give Joyce a farewell hug. 

“Well I should get going, I don’t want to be gone too long.”

“Of course, tell Steve we said hello and we’ll see you all tomorrow.”

“Will do!” You said, pulling away, and doing the same to Hopper.

“Bye kid.” He patted your head before letting you go your separate way.

The drive back home was as pleasant as the drive over, just lacking in company. You didn’t think that you’d get used to driving Steve's car without him being there in the passenger, but still, it was a thoughtful offer and it did give yourself some time to clear your head of all the stress that you endured yesterday though much of it was already gone since you woke up this morning. 

You placed it in park when you got into his driveway, grabbing all the grocery bags in one go before you exited the car and made sure it was locked up. The front door was surprisingly unlocked, meaning Steve hadn’t moved since you left. You’d lecture him about leaving the door unlocked when there were freshly frosted cupcakes that burglars would most definitely take first.

“Steve, I’m back!” You called out, toeing off your sandals at the foyer before you made your way into the living room dropping his keys back onto the coffee table.

“Still in the kitchen!”

You lugged the bags along, lifting them in the air as you walked through the doorway.

“I know you told me you didn’t want anything but I ended up grabbing a bag of tangerines and I was thinking we could make some drinks for when we go out to the — oh my god!”

They fell with a heavy clunk to the ground and thank goodness there wasn’t any glass in there, but the poor apples would definitely be bruised. Steve turned his head over his shoulder, quickly shutting off the water as you stared at the loaves sitting on a raised plate as the excess icing dripped off the sides.

“Sur-prise?” He cracked a nervous smile, wiping his hands dry, hoping to receive the right reaction from you.

“You iced the loaves?!”

If your tone came sharper than you meant, he didn’t notice it and neither did you. Steve was too busy watching the surprise wash over your features — the way your eyes widened and mouth hung open.

He leaned against the counters, still watching you until your eyes finally met his. Picking up the index card you had brought from home, and walking over to the pantry, pulling out a now empty bag of powdered sugar, and placing them on the counter.

“I may or may not have lied about the powdered sugar but yeah, I read the recipe card and followed it to the tee.”

He paused, opening a drawer to retrieve a spoon, scooping up a little of the excess that dripped into a bowl before handing it over to you, “Here, give it a taste, please.”

You could tell he was nervous, eyes leaking anticipation while he held it out, his hands nearly shaking. It was cute that he got so nervous, like you could ever be mad at him for trying his hand at something so thoughtful of him to do. So you took the spoon, sticking it into your mouth before you promptly hummed around it, nodding your head at him with wide eyes that should’ve been enough to tell him he did great. 

“Fuck did I mess it up?” He spoke with an uneasy feeling, swiping his finger into the bowl and grabbing a sample to taste, pressing his lips together to try to decipher if something was terribly wrong. 

You shook your head hastily, removing the spoon from your mouth before twirling it in the air, “No you nailed it, like absolutely nailed it!”

Still even with your assurance, he seemed to doubt himself, picking up the bowl for himself, moving it around to test the consistency of the frosting. He held it out towards you, tipping it back and forth. 

“It’s not too runny? I think I added more than a capful of milk.”

Instead of trying to ease his worries with words, you simply rounded the corner, taking the bowl away from him so all he could focus on was you. It was cute that now you could see what Steve meant when he said you go into your head all too much — maybe he was right when he said self-doubt would get you nowhere but a headache. 

“You did perfect,” You began, dusting off the powdered sugar off his t-shirt, looking up at him with a grin, “not too runny, not too thick. Just right.”

It was enough to stop him in his tracks, ironing the worries away in the same way he did yours more often than not. The hand on his chest didn’t leave, when the words stopped, in fact you kept it there, smoothing the wrinkles of his shirt without really thinking much of it, while Steve tried to keep his composure and heart in his chest.

“S-so what did you buy?” He deterred his sights, looking towards the floor where the groceries still sat.

You squinted, hand stopping its movements, as you flashed him a sneaky smile shaking your head before slightly digging your fingers into the dough of his chest. 

“No, we’re not just gonna skim over that whole thing…you lied to me!” You shrilled. 

And like that, the kitchen erupted with laughter, Steve failing to keep up the innocent act, and you beyond astounded that you fell for it. He held his hands up in defense as playfully pushed him away, even stepping back as he tried to move closer, just to be theatrical. 

“Okay technically I didn’t lie lie!” He countered with his hands waving in the air. You crossed your arms over your chest, raising a brow at him,  “I thought I didn’t have enough of it but after you left, I measured it out and like the recipe said, a half cup sugar for each of the loaves and I just so happen to have one cup.”

He was the sweetest boy you’ve ever met: not a chance you could be upset even if it was just pretend. 

Steve had already done so much for you in less than 24 hours. From dealing with your anxiety over the phone, to driving all the way to you, and then on top of that trying to take the stress off your plate.

There was a pinch between your brow, beginning to grow deeper and your lip caught between your teeth. The longer you didn’t say anything, the more Steve caught the tell-tale signs of your guilt knowing you hated that he was doing so much and you finally got a break you deserved. 

He was just as quick to reassure you, stepping forward and testing the waters to see if you’d close the space and to which you did, pouting up at him with an adorable frown until your chest met his in a hug. 

You could feel him smile against your head, hands wrapped around your body as he tightened the hold tenderly, “I wanted to do it. You needed a break.” He murmured into your hair as you chuckled into the fabric of his shirt. 

It felt routine by now, and you didn’t need to thank him verbally when he gave you a nod as soon as he pulled away and saw the sincere look upon your face. The way he was able to read you like an open book felt personal, the only kind of way that you wanted to be read by him. Ins and outs of you already memorized so carefully with little to no room to question if he was right or not.

You didn’t want him to question anything, especially not you.

Taking a deep breath, you shakily let it out, slowly pulling away from each other until you looked over the counters and to the ground. 

“Tangerines.” You called out, moving across the tiles.

“Huh?” 

“I picked up some tangerines at the grocery store.”

You handed him the netted bag of fruits that he easily ripped open and let them spill over the table top, “They’re in season?” He pursed his lips, inspecting the fruit carefully. 

You nodded, reaching out for the remnants of its packaging, smoothing it out to show him the label, “They’re from Long Beach, California.”

It piqued his interest, looking over at you like you’d know the answer to his curiosity, “Do you think they grow on Sunrise Boulevard?”

You giggled, shrugging your shoulders while you unloaded the rest of the items. “Probably. I’ve never been so I don’t know for sure.”

“We should go someday.”

He extended the invitation as if you, a paycheck to paycheck living individual, could ever afford a trip like that in a heartbeat. But it was the fact that he extended it in the first place that had your insides twisting and turning like a lovesick fool.

We. The possibility of you two going together. And he said it as sweetly as it sounded, honey dripping from his lips, with a smile oh so beautiful that you could really believe that maybe you two could go together one day — even if the rest of your friends tagged along.

As long as he was there with you there was always the possibility of we. 

Steve often transported you back to middle school, the days where you caught yourself kicking your feet and blushing like an idiot over a boy who said all the right things. The only difference is Steve didn’t let you crash and burn on the ground. With him, things feel different.

“We should.” You said, lifting your hanging head, not caring anymore about hiding the red flush of your cheeks.

“Good.” He smiled with a nod that he was more so giving himself, his brain spitting out all of the celebratory phrases it could think of after seeing the double vision of your rose blush. 

For once, the both of you seem to be a bit braver in your endeavors, holding the intimate eye contact in the silence of birds chirping from outside the flung windows and the whistle of the wind. If you two were a cartoon animation, your hearts would have been jumping out of your chests, and interlocking hands by now.

His eyes didn’t stare blankly at you, and yours certainly didn’t shoot dangers through him. It was as if you both were swimming in each other, taking one another in without a single word spoken because none needed to be said.

You both knew it and you both could hear it in the silence.

“Why don’t we go for a swim, yeah? Call it a day with the baking and just… just spend some time?”

Together he wanted to say. Something that should’ve slipped freely but instead died in his throat, too scared to let you know what spending time together really meant to him, between the both of you, actually. 

“I’d love that.”

You kicked Steve out of the kitchen, claiming that he could at least let you finish up the cleaning after he had lied to you about the powdered sugar. You could hear him from the stairs, still arguing that it wasn’t really a lie, making you shake your head and snort while you wiped down the counters.

He emerged as you finished washing the sticky icing bowl, wearing nothing but a pair of swim trunks with two towels under his arm. You were sure, he caught you staring for a second, before kicking you out the kitchen to go get changed while he made you both drinks and skimmed the pool for dead leaves and critters.

Getting changed in the confines of his bedroom felt like the first time you had been there all over again. Only this time you weren’t a stranger and he’s not waiting on the other side of the door for you to be done. 

This time you’re a piece of his life and he’s waiting for you.

Slipping into your swimwear, you caught a glimpse of yourself in his mirror. It had occurred to you that this was the first time you would be as bare as you would be in front of him. Sure you weren’t a prude or anything, but you always felt a bit shy, and your feelings for Steve didn’t make it any better.

Not wanting to leave him waiting for so long, you plucked a random shirt from his dresser and threw it over yourself before jogging down the stairs and out the sliding door where he stood with the pool stick in hand, grabbing whatever that was floating on the surface.

“I’m back,” You made your presence known, moving beside him to see the small pile of leaves he gathered on the side of the pool.

Your nose turned up at the little critters that crawled away into the grass, before Steve whistled and pointed to the shaded umbrella, “M’almost done over here, I put your drink over there.” 

The pool loungers had been tugged under the shade with towels laid out over the cushions and a variety of snacks sitting along inside the drinks. 

“I just juiced some of the tangerines and stirred it with some tequila and margarita mix I had left. If it’s too strong, I can add more juice or make you another.”

You thanked him, walking over to take a seat and sip on the drink while you waited for Steve to finish the pool maintenance. A lot of his home was taken care of by him, and you could understand why if his parents weren’t home too often – it forced him to take up everything and keep everything in order. 

You wondered why Steve never gave himself the credit he deserved. Only in his early twenties already taking on what most people in their late twenties still had a hard time getting a grove with. Yet he made it look flawless with little to no complaints about his situation and how this responsibility might have been too much for him. 

But deep down in the pit of your stomach, you wondered if this place was really his home or a home he was looking after until he found his. It wasn’t entirely the same situation as yours, hell, you got out the moment freedom striked. 

Steve had everything: enough money to pay for rent at a decent apartment nearby, all the life skills in the world, and himself — you just wondered why he was staying. 

“How is it?” He called out, back facing you from the other side of the backyard where he stuffed the pool scopper back into the shed. 

Your hand raised above your forehead blocking the sun as he walked towards you, the other picked up his drink handing it to him when he sat on the end of your lounger, thankfully blocking the remnants of rays for you. 

You watched him take a sip, nodding his head at himself before looking over to you for your opinion.

“Good! Not too strong actually, I think the tangerine juice is great.” You bubbled, taking another sip of yours before placing it back on the table with a clink. 

He hummed through his drink, before setting it down and taking a look at you. You had made more space for him on the lounger despite him having his own only a few feet away. Your legs tucked under yourself, and arms came to wrap around your midsection, attempting to hide from his gaze despite his t-shirt that was already drowning you.  

You were naturally sheepish, and he knew that but he hoped you weren’t doing this just because he suggested it. The last thing he wanted was to force you into doing something you didn’t want to be doing. Hell, the both of you could be inside sitting in silence, and Steve would be happy, long as you were there. 

“You know, we don’t have to swim if you don’t want to. We could just sit out here and talk, whatever you want okay? Whatever is comfortable—”

“No, no, I’m fine! I—I’m just a little shy, that’s all.” You shook your head, attempting to relax your tense muscles, untucking your legs from underneath you.

He grinned, nodding slowly, as his fingers grazed the sleeve of his shirt on your body. “That's okay, nothing wrong with that,” he assured you, meeting your eyes with a impish glint, “nice shirt by the way.”

“Thanks… for letting me borrow it, I mean.” 

You looked down at the graphic, finally aware that it was an Eagles t-shirt, that unbeknownst to you was one of his favorites and only worn during special sports occasions. However he decided in his mind that anytime you wanted to wear the garment, it was a special occasion in itself. He wouldn’t want to have it any other way. 

“Always.” He grinned, looking down into his lap, not wanting to frighten you with his ceaseless content. 

The heat of Indiana wasn’t as fierce as it had been for the past summer and you hoped it would stick around, at least until tomorrow so you all could survive a pleasant farmers market afternoon. For now, you’d enjoy whatever mercy the season would have on the town with no complaints, especially when there was a mansion with a view sitting right beside you. 

“Wanna get in?” You snapped out of your thoughts, eyes following his movements as he asked you and took another sip.  

You sat up, legs extending over his as you looked out at the aquamarine reflection of the water. “Uh, yeah, do you have any sunblock, by any chance?”

He clicked his tongue, tapping his fingers against your shins. “Shit, yeah, sorry I totally forgot. I think the kids used up the last bottle but I have the spray kind, if that’s okay?”

“Of course.” You nodded, lifting your legs and letting him slide away. 

He walked through the sliding door again, and you could hear the slight rustle of him looking through cabinets and cursing at himself that the kids must have misplaced it. With him still busy you took a deep breath, tugging the shirt off your body and smoothing your fingers over your skin. 

You had nothing to be insecure about, not when it came to Steve's eyes. He’d seen you stripped down with your emotions – sadness, insecurity, exhaustion and everything in between. Him seeing you in a bathing suit was far less intimidating than it seemed.  

“Sorry, I think Dustin must’ve knocked the cap off or something but it still sprays and… oh, h-hey.”

The sunblock slipped from his hands, poorly failing to juggle back into his grip in time before it clanked against the concrete. You didn’t give him an answer, simply lifting your brow before you choked out a fit of laughter, hunching over yourself to grab your tummy.

Steve didn’t mean to be such a man, but just a split second ago, you were covered up in his t-shirt which alone made his head spin, and now, he was seeing skin that had never been exposed before and he felt like he might pass out and knock his head into the concrete. Perhaps it would have been a terribly gruesome way to go out, but at least you were the last thing he got to look at before he went. 

“I—I’m sorry!” He stuttered, turning away sharply as his throat bopped with a swallow, “I didn’t mean to say that, it kinda just slipped out. Feel free to totally hit or slap me right now, because that was super duper weird of me and—”

You stood up, prompting him to seal his lips as his eyes slowly turned to watch you pick up the sunscreen, beginning to spray the formula onto your arms, working it into your skin.

You looked up at him through your lashes, washing away his embarrassment as he saw you shake your head.“It’s fine, really. I don’t think it was weird, at all… just super duper funny.” You teased, scrunching your nose at him.

He breathed out a sigh of relief, still looking apologetic in his features.“I feel like an idiot,” he added, rubbing the back of his neck stiffly. 

You tilted your head at him, wiggling the bottle in the air. “You can make up for it by getting my back for me?”

He took it from your hands, watching as you spun around and pulled your hair away. “You sure?” 

You hummed, “Positive, unless you’re gonna say ‘hi’ to my behind too.” You joked, turning over your shoulder to see him scoff a laugh before spraying you down.

He was careful, asking permission before his hands even touched your skin, and then again when he had to work the product under the straps of the suit. His fingertips are light and gentle, and at the same time meticulous, making sure not to miss a spot and let a single sliver of your skin get burned by the sun.

“Want me to get yours too?” You suggested, spinning back around when his hands finally dropped from you.

“Only if you want to.”

“Spin, Harrington.” You twirled your finger in the air, grasping the sunblock and getting to work.

It was different, feeling your touch without a layer of clothing in the way. Sure, you’ve both slept in the same bed, practically in each other's arms with him shirtless, and you two definitely touched each other in the softest way that no one else did. But your touch right now was suffocating, eating him whole as he tried to breathe through it and tell himself that you were too good for him. 

“You have a million beauty marks.” You murmured, breath fanning over his neck making him go dizzy. 

He swallowed, turning over his shoulder to watch you rub the product over his shoulder blades, your fingers working mindfully under his gaze. 

“B-beauty marks? Moles, you mean?”

You met his eyes, shaking your head with the softest look upon your face. “I prefer to call them beauty marks.” 

“That’s cute.” He whispered as a reply.

“Yours are too.” You complimented, feeling him exhale soothingly while your hands worked the rest of the skin, ending it off by tapping your fingers against the beauty marks, “all done.” 

You twisted the bottle shut, tossing it on the lounger for later when you two would have to reapply. Turning towards him you ran your hands up and down your arms, waiting for what was next. 

“Are you a strong swimmer?” He lifted his brows, watching you think. 

You blinked, thinking  of all the rare moments you’ve ever been in a body of water there in the midwest. “J-just a little. Why?” 

“Don’t want you to drown.” He said, a smirk growing on his face. 

You shook your head, not understanding what he was getting at. 

“Why would I— Steve!”

 A squeal ripped through your throat, as he scooped you up into his arms bridal style, carefully walking you both over to the edge of the pool where hid your face in his chest expecting a gush of water without warning. He couldn’t help but chuckled, adjusting your higher with a small toss until you wrapped your arms around his neck securely. 

“You ready?” He bellowed out into the air with a hoot, cradling your head gently for extra measure.

“Whenever you are.” You pinched your eyes shut, tucking yourself more into him as if that would make it less worse. 

And like that, cold water engulfed your body all at once. Even in the big splash, Steve’s arms never left your body, keeping himself glued to you as you both came up to the surface and your hands brushed your hair away from your face. 

“I got you,” Steve laughed, shaking the water away from his face and never daring to let his arms leave your body.  

“It’s so cold!” You whimpered, immediately wrapping your legs around his hips, pulling yourself closer to his body where your jaw trembled against his collarbone. 

He could feel you shaking in his arms, taking a bit longer to adjust to the coolness given the fact that you hadn’t been to a pool in ages. His hands ran up and down you back, pausing in between passes to knead your skin. 

“You’ll warm up soon,” He guaranteed, kissing the side of your head before resting his chin on top of yours, the two of you fastened together with a stitch until your shivering fizzled out. 

Usually Steve’s pool was filled with the bustle and shouts of children, water splashing everywhere and him standing on the sidelines with his hands on his hips, reminding the kids not to run on the wet pavement. 

Though today it might have been the most peaceful it’s ever been. 

Turns out, you’re not the best swimmer after all these years with little to no access to any pool or beaches, but you are one hell of a floater, giggling as Steve waded the water beside you, mimicking waves and moving you along the expanse. 

You two attempted to race, doing laps back and forth, but you gave up a few seconds in, elbows resting on the concrete as you watched each stride he took against the water until he was back to you. Rubbing his eyes, he caught his breath and looked at you in disbelief. 

“You beat me?!”

“By a long shot.” You joked, before he playfully rolled his eyes and swam closer to you. 

His hands sneaking underwater reaching out to grip your thighs and throw them over his hips where you quickly held on tight as we took you both to the center of the expanse. There was little to no room between you both anymore, the personal space bubble had popped long ago and now it was a shared out that sheathed the both of you. 

Steve didn’t think he could let you go, even if he tried. 

With your backs beneath the sun, everything felt right. Clearing the air, you breathed in the mix of chlorine and each other. The only sounds were the whistle of the wind, the swoosh of the water around you, and your harbored inhales and exhales. 

It was all consuming in the best way possible. 

For Steve, the city he had lived in his entire life felt as cruel as the loves in his past. And there were a lot of loves: platonic and romantic, yet nothing felt entirely like this – not even close. There was always a flaw, a blemish in time that made the past never work out the way he had hoped, but there was a gut wrenching realization that ever since he saw you, there was no need to look back at those shortcomings. 

He was quieter than usually, eyes studying you without even realizing it, still you didn’t shrink under his view. You followed his sights, watching as his orbs moved from a part of your face to the next, taking you in like an art piece, memorizing every detail like his life depended on it. 

And for a moment a wave of realization washed over you. The way you were in Steve’s arms, the way he was looking at you, the way you looked at him — friends didn’t do the things you both did, especially when your other friends were around. 

Steve was just your friend when he gave you a long-sleeve to borrow, drove down to your art gallery, talked you through your worst moments, offered you a bed to sleep in, slept with you in said bed.

But maybe you and Steve were never destined for the whole friendship thing. You both had crossed so many lines unforgiven, and there was no way either of you could deny the truth by saying goodbye.  

You had to step into it and let go. 

You swallowed, arms tightening around his neck while your chest rose with a deep puff. Only then did he snap out of the haze, blinking slowly until he shook his head and snapped his eyes to yours silently apologizing to which you brushed off with a half-hearted smile. 

“You know, some beauty marks have meaning.” You revealed, hushed tone just loud enough for him to catch against the breeze. 

His breath hitched, tips of his fingers caressing your spine, tracing it up and down absentmindley like second nature.“Y-yeah?”

You nodded, eyes meeting him, almost pleading for him to let you. “Can I tell you about them?”

“Please do.”

His grip on you was tight enough to allow you to let go, letting your arms float freely in the water, before thumbing the marks on his skin delicately.

“You’ve got a bunch of tiny ones by your eyes,” You whispered, carefully swiping over them with your thumbs, “these ones mean that you’re hard working, which you are.” You said obviously. 

He’d be willing to work harder to make whatever this was permanent. To wake up from the dark night he’d been sleeping through since he could remember. He’d do it all, if it meant getting to wake up to you, everyday… to wake up and be yours, it was that simple. 

Your thumb moved down to the double freckles on his cheek, murmuring, “Sensitive.”

“Like a cry baby?” He questioned, still full of jokes despite the inner monologue that was eating his entire being up. 

You breathed through your laugh, holding his face still as you clarified. “Like someone in touch with their emotions.” 

Steve never had the best upbringing, you knew that, and while your understanding of the whole picture was very little, you knew that he didn’t let that define him. He didn’t treat his past as an excuse to be horrible to other people, in fact it made him better. Softer in his approach to situations that he did his best to guide instead of control.  

Honesty was the freckle on his chin. Steve never tried to prove himself to be a good person, worthy of something greater than the things he was given, even when he was. He had trusted the wrong people in the past, did and said things he was never proud of, but he didn’t ever pretend like those moments didn’t happen. 

His reputation, the one that should've scared you away and prevented you from getting to know the real him, was in your eyes, the most delicate thing about him. He didn’t try to put up a perfect facade for you, but he did prove that he threw out all the bad, every cloak that hid his true colors and daggers that fought every truth — he threw them out, not to become someone new, but to finally be him. 

How you wished you could’ve been brave enough to say it all because you wanted him to so desperately know. 

And how Steve wished he could dive into your mind and swim through your thoughts as you stared at him with complete tenderness. Something he didn’t think he could ever get used to because what about him could possibly make you go slack-jawed? He didn’t know what you saw him, but quite frankly he’d listen if you’d tell him. He’d listen to anything you had to say. 

“Any other ones?” His grips moved down to your waist squeezing gently and seeking the connection in the midst of your silence. 

You hummed, giving him a soft smile before he reciprocated it, visibly enchanted by your ability to get lost in him the way he got lost in you. 

“You’ve got a special one right here,” You let your fingers brush over his cupid's bow, caressing the spot back and forth. 

His eyebrows jutted up curiously, breath fanning over your thumb as he spoke. “Special, huh? You’ve gotta tell me now, sweetheart.”

He pulled you in just a little closer, your chest bumping into his and your foreheads just inches apart, and like that, you were a little more brave with nothing left to be scared of. Your hands cradled his face, forcing him to keep his eyes on yours with every word that left your mouth because you wanted him to understand, to see himself the way you saw him. 

“Empathy. The world lacks it, but somehow you’re full of it.” Your words flowed with conviction as does the admiration that sparkled in your eyes. 

“H-how?” His voice broke, as if he could barely believe that he had an ounce of it within him. 

You rolled your shoulders back, determined to get him to see it in himself. “Well for starters, you’re a great listener. Always listening to me ramble about dumb stuff and—”

“Nothing you say is dumb.” Steve said sincerely, fingers caressing your back warmly against the coolness of the water. 

“See, you’re also good at reassuring me.” You grinned, teasing him because he proved himself wrong. 

He rolled his eyes comically as you went on. “And you always try your best to understand me, even when I’m a mess and nothing makes sense. You try and you put yourself in my shoes to try to understand.”

“I always want to understand you.” He murmured, eyes staring into yours with fondness that was difficult to not shy away from, but you forced yourself to bear it. 

“I know, and that’s why you’re such a good person, Steve.” You smiled, rubbing your thumbs along his cheekbones following his structure. 

Steve Harrington was quite possibly the best person you’d ever get the honor of knowing the way that you did. You truly wanted to share him with the world, to give everyone a look at the finest person who was everything and more jumbled up into one being, but at the same time you wanted to be selfish, to keep him to yourself because no one deserved him, sometimes you felt like you didn’t either.

You just got lucky. 

“I hate not knowing what you’re feeling.” He admitted, swallowing thickly, remembering all those times he had to poke and prod in order to get down to the root of your sadness. 

You nodded understandingly, hating how closed off you were in the past. “Sometimes I’m too scared to say it outloud.”

You wanted to be more like Steve, not wanting to be defined by the things that you hate, the things that you were afraid of, or the things that haunted you in the middle of the night. You wanted to throw out your sword and live in peace just being defined for what you loved… the people you loved.  

“Why?”

Your eyes met his curious ones with reluctance, nerves kicking into gear more than ever because you knew what saying the truth meant.  

“B-because, I don’t want to mess things up.” You said, nervously massaging the back of his neck with gentle touches hoping he couldn’t feel them shake. 

All this time you thought it was black and white. Too scared to let the past go because of the years you had put into them, and too scared to move forward because you didn’t want a repeat. The extremes that held you back, believing that failing once meant failing forever — all of that meant nothing anymore. 

All you could see in your mind was you and Steve intertwined, all of the bad that you had thought up was put behind you and you never wanted to look away from him. 

“You couldn’t mess anything up, not between us.” He said firmly, one hand loosening from your body to grab at your elbow, bringing it back to his cheek where he wanted you to feel him. 

All this time he thought it was burning red. Chaos and dramatics without ever solving anything. The highest of highs and lowest of lows, a dangerous path that never led him anywhere except heartache and pain. The treacherous journey that was always destined for failure — he didn’t feel that anymore. 

All he could see in his head was him sneaking back and forth from your town with you in his bed, and nothing would ever be the same. 

“Are you sure?” Yours eyes locked, his washing away any lingering feelings of doubt with a simple nod. 

You saw the thick swallow and bop of his throat while his hands traveled to your jaw, holding you there. “I’m positive because I’ve been feeling too.” 

And like that you both were wide awake.  

“S-say it please,” Steve pleaded running his thumbs over the bottom of your lip wanted to feel it so he knew it was real. 

“I-I could show you instead.” You murmured, taking his wrist in your hand, feeling the thumb of his pulse. 

He nodded, resting his forehead against yours, feeling you breathe against him like a lifeline reaching out.

“Please.”

Finally you both were letting it go, stepping into it together because what you had was golden, like daylight.

💌 reblogs, tags, comments, + likes are greatly appreciated! leave a comment and let me know if want to be added to my taglist!! 💌

a/n: happy new year everyone!!! I’ve missed you all so much and I’m so sorry I’ve been gone for so long — I took a break from posting as avidly in order to prioritize letting myself rest up and enjoy my break. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and a big thank you to my love, Effie, for helping me proofread this and always giving me the best advice ever!!! I can’t wait for you all to read the next chapter!

taglist: @translatemunson @kennedy-brooke @manda-panda-monium @tvserie-s-world @givemeth @steveharringtonswife @astolenkiss @loving-and-dreaming @awkotaco24 @engenelxver @elfiaaaa @pbs-theundeadmaggot @johnricharddeacy @gaysludge @keerysfolklore @micheledawn1975 @ihatepeanutss @bakugouswh0r3

#steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington stranger things #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington #stranger things x reader #stranger things #stranger things imagine #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve stranger things #steve harrington x fem!artist #steve harrington x fem!baker #steve harrington glitch universe #taylor swift x stranger things #steve harrington x taylor swift #steve harrington headcanon #steve harrington x fem!reader #stranger things fluff #stranger things fic

[lefthandedhotch]

linnnn <3333 hello <333 it's still Warm outside but it is a cold fall in my heart🥺💔 and i baked today and made bread🥰🥰🥰 it's very good and will most definitely Not last the rest of the week🤭🤭🤭 all i can think about is baking with jack and aaronnnnn <3333 jack getting little flour handprints Every Where!!!!!!!! aaron sneaking a taste of the batter when you turn away and you playfully scolding him because of the raw egg in the mix🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭 UGH <333333 i luv them :(

thinking about single mom neighbor reader and this is your first fall being aaron's neighbor and it's so cozy because he and jack invite you and your little girl over almost every day to do many fall activities <3 aaron starts taking tupperware full of baked goods to work to share with not only the team but anyone who stops at the kitchenette on the sixth floor🤭 because you and jack and your little girl cant help but make so many yummy snacks!!!🤭🤭🤭 aaron loves coming home to his once lonely apartment and immediately being greeted with giggles and chatter and wonderful scents instead of silence🥺🥺🥺🥺 he makes his way to his kitchen which would always sit so clean and tidy and he welcomes the mess of flour and sugar and chocolate chips scattered all over the counters because then he's greeted with two little bug wrapping themselves around his legs and Spewing!!!! out alllllll of their thoughts to him while you look over and hide your giggles behind your hand as they talk over each other :'))) aaron bends down and greets them both before making his way over to you to say hello (you two arent dating (yet👀) so your greetings to each other are always soooo shy and silly🤭) with a hug that last sooo long but not long enough😔 while the goodies bake in the oven, the kids run to jack's room to play while aaron helps you clean up (you always apologize for leaving a mess, but he always tells you it's not an issue :') <3) while waiting, aaron pours you a drink and you two share the wine glass while he tells you about his day <3 when he mentions that it got better when he came home to see you and your daughter with jack, you playfully ask if there's anything else you can do to make it Even Better and he nods and leans in for a sweettttt kiss <3 you enthusiatically kiss back because you've wanted this for soooo long and he snorts after you two pull away and asks "cookie dough?" and you get all flustered because he caught you🤭 sneaking a bit of cookie dough even though you've told him to not do that!!!!🤭🤭🤭🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰 jack and your little girl come back, jack babbling to you about his little drawings while your little girl asks aaron to pick her up because "i missed you, mister aawon🥺💞" he holds her so close and tells her he missed her too you get all :') because this is all you couldve ever asked for!!!!!!! a sweet little blended family of love and happiness and warmth <33

also ily linny :3 mwah💞💞

hiiiiiiii my jess-jess ilysmmmmm MWAH! 🤭🤭🤭💕💕💕 EEEEEK i’m glad your bread turned out so yummy!!!! it’s chilly cold fall in my heart too🥰🥰🥰 plsssssss the baking boys 🥺🥺🥺🥺 they’re so silly :(( i luv them :((

aaron is stuck in Booooooring budget meetings all day long :/ and on a regular day he just suffers in silence listening to stuffy higher ups in the bureau explain Why his team needs Less money (despite aaron’s very organized arguments that they need More money 😔) but between two of the last of his very boring meetings near the end of the day, he gets a text from you with a picture of the kiddos rolling out cookie dough at his kitchen table with the caption “professional bakers at work 🤭☺️” and as he sits through his last meeting he’s Positive that time has absolutely never ever gone this slow 😔💔💔💔💔 now that he knows he’s gonna come home to laughter and silliness and fun and the sweet scent of your yummy baked goods filling the air, it’s nearly impossible for him to get through this meeting 😩😩😩 but!!!!! he makes it through!!!!! and escapes before any of the stuffy higher ups can corner him to talk about whatever little things they need to discuss so he can get home as quick as possible!! the little bugs are sooooooooo excited when they hear aaron’s key in the lock when he gets home and you get those little butterflies that always seem to linger when aaron’s around as he steps into the room with two bugs running around his legs and that sweet grin on his lips 🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭 that evening, while the kiddos are snoozing on the couch after movie night on a sugar crash from all the yummy cookies they snacked on 🤭 you and aaron press sooooooooo close into each other on the balcony, whispering and kissing and making plans to go on your first Official date that weekend (while jack and your lil girl go for a play date at willifer’s house with henry 🥰) and when you kiss aarons cheek so so softly and whisper “i really really like you, aaron 🥺💕💕💕” he feels his heart thud so hard because he’s just so so damn happy to have this life with you and the little family you guys are making together 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺💗💗💗💗💗💗💗

#jess! #SOBS!!!!!! #hehehehe he doesn’t even mind the chaos of the baking aftermath #because the baked goods are always so delicious and the smiles on all of your faces are everything 🥺 #and youuuuuuu love when his lips taste a little extra sweet from the cookie dough he’s always sneaking 🤭🤭🤭🤭 #.hotch #aaron.hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #single mom!reader my very beloved 🥹

[angelicalchaoticabyss]

Hello!! If you’re still open, could you possibly do an Affogato Cookie x reader?

I am beyond obsessed with his smug and manipulative personality. Ignore if you want!

-Anon

(Self aware au) On the run. Affogato Cookie x Reader pt 5

You didn’t know how long you were here for, you were never allowed to leave Affogato’s home in your kingdom. He’d leave you things to do whenever he had to go, like board games, reading material, etc. Whenever Affogato WAS home, he’d spend all his time with you, rather it’d be mixing herbs or cooking he’d always find some way to involve you in the project. He was always so happy whenever you spoke to him it made you wonder if he was or wasn’t oblivious to the distress you were in.

Right now he was brushing through your hair while you sat on his lap, you didn’t want to admit it felt nice. You were both scared and angry at him, you didn’t want to be here! You wanted to go home! You were trying to think of ways to escape this place and get help, maybe if you could reach the other cookies, they would help you. Maybe a Dark Cacaoian like Caramel arrow or Crunchy chip, you just needed a way out first, you needed to outsmart him first. He always had the front door locked and kept the key with him at all times.

Oddly enough, his humming was good for your focus…that’s it!

When nighttime came and Affogato was asleep you snuck out of your room. Tip toeing to the kitchen you snatched a pair of scissors and returned to your room. You opened the small window and began cutting away at the screening, your heart pounding every time Affogato shifted in his bed. You finally managed to cut a large enough hole and started crawling through. You then screamed as a hand grabbed hold of your leg and started yanking you back.

“Fortuna! Get back in here this instant!” Affogato demanding, pulling harder.

“No! Let go! Someone help me!!” You screamed, struggling back.

You used your other foot to kick him in the chest, knocking the wind out of him. Affogato staggered back as he struggled to breathe for a few moments but it was just enough time for your escape.

You fell onto the candy ground but quickly got to your feet and ran away as fast as you could, you knew Affogato would be on pursuit soon so you had to hurry. Affogato’s home was a bit more secluded that others but that didn’t stop you from yelling out for help. Next thing you knew however you feel gravity increase as nausea hit you, Affogato must’ve used his skill. That wouldn’t stop you however, you ran for a place to hide and managed to get into a tree hollow.

You held back the vomit wanting to come up from the nausea and fear as you heard Affogato enter the area and search for you. Though you got lucky this time as he missed the tree you were hiding in and continued to the next part of your kingdom. When it was silent for a few minutes and the nausea was gone you left the tree. You ran in the opposite direction he went in.

Luck struck you again as you saw Caramel arrow up ahead doing late night rounds, guess you are Fortuna in some way.

“Caramel arrow! Caramel arrow! Over here! Please!” You cried, waving your hand.

The Watcher looked over to the call and her eyes widened with shock at seeing you, it was you, the Baker! You ran to her and semi collapsed but she caught you in time. You were panting and wheezing from the lack of oxygen you had needed for that run. You were crying at the same time as you hugged her in relief.

“You…! The Baker it’s really you! What are you doing here? What happened?!” She questioned.

“Please you have to help me! Affogato used his magic to kidnap me and he had me! In his house and I only just escaped now!” You sputtered through your tears.

“What!? That rotten snake!”

Caramel arrow’s eyes filled with rage but it was quickly taken over by sympathy for you and your situation. She gave you a hug and rubbed your back, assuring you that everything was going to be alright.

Quickly she brought you to her home to get a hood for you to wear and hide your identity. Traveling at night is the safest option right now, but she still had to keep watch for Affogato as she knew he was searching for you. With the reassurance that she would protect you the two of you traveled back to the kingdom entrance, to the Roll cake forest.

Caramel arrow explained that she had a secret home in Dragon hill that she liked to go to when she needed a break from everyone. You understood that, sometimes you just needed a break as well…and you really…REALLY needed a break from all this.

“So what is it like? Our world, I mean, to you?” She asked.

“Well, this world is just a game in my world, a game for humans to play and have fun. There’s millions of fans all over the world that play and love you guys. Though so far, I guess I’m the only one this has happened to.”

“I’d say so, when we’d looked at the face of the Baker, we’d always see you, and no one else.” She explained.

So you really were that special, you didn’t know that.

When you were safely brought to the Dragon hill location you finally felt…relaxed and at ease. You felt safe now that you were far away from Affogato, though you can only imagine how mad he must be right now…

Affogato WAS enraged, he spent all night looking for you and NOTHING, you managed to evade him and were long gone. Judging that he didn’t see Caramel arrow on her nightly rounds either he KNEW she had something to do with it. Oh she was going to pay DEARLY for this, dearest Fortuna he WILL get you back, he’ll make sure of it.

#cr #crk #cr x reader #crk x reader #cookie run #cookie run kingdom #cookie run x reader #cookie run kingdom x reader #affogato cookie #affogato cookie x reader #self aware cookie run #self aware au #part 5 #that's right it's here! #self aware affogato cookie x reader

[squidswithsocks]

i should post on here more

anyways take this capsaicin design i cooked up. i found it funny that devsis decided to go with the literal chemical itself rather than a member of the capsicum pepper family (the only plants that produce the compound) so i wanted to use that as a motif throughout his design because i am. so normal about organic chemistry

i'll expand on how i think the scoville system works a bit later but uhhh yeah hope you enjoy him 👍

#capsaicin cookie #cookie run #cookie run baker's mix #cookie run kingdom #cookie run fanart #scoville #scovillia #devsis ain't shit

[greencways]

jennifer jareau headcanons

1. ENFP

2. took dance classes when she was younger

3. will watch disney films all day if you let her

4. hates pizza and finds the texture gross

5. her favourite meal is mac and cheese

6. LOVED and i mean LOVED back to school shopping, she used to count down the days until she could go to the store

7. used to be a cheerleader before she was on the soccer team

8. sometimes reads over spencer's work and writes down specific words that she's never heard of before on a sticky note and then sporadically the next day to see if he notices but he never does, emily catches on very soon though

9. owns so many dvds that she could run her own shop

10. shops at h&m

11. wanted to be a media liaison and talk to people because she used to feel like no one listened to her when she was younger so at least she could listen in return to people who need it

12. bites her straws

13. always cold

14. can do amazing makeup, is incredibly talented at it and does it for fun so she's a pro, she also went viral for how amazing her makeup looks were once

15. allergic to nickel

16. obsessed with butterflies

17. has owned a butterfly necklace

18. had watched every single episode of buffy the vampire slayer and had a crush on faith lehane

19. dyes her hair blonde all the time (she's not a natural blonde)

20. gets a hangover if she looks at a bottle of wine wrong

21. didn't stop collecting butterflies and still collects them with her sons and loves to tell them all the different species

22. can and will sleep anywhere

23. natural brunette

24. reads marvel comics

25. gluten intolerant

26. mixes skittles into her popcorn

27. could not survive the day without a vanilla latte

28. has ocd and anxiety

29. smells like vanilla

30. drinks 8 bottles of water a day

31. favourite taylor swift album is red

32. cuts her own hair

33. always tired

34. sits on chairs with her leg up or legs crossed

35. her love language is words of affirmation

36. drinks way to much boba to a point where it's concerning

37. listens to podcasts to help relax her

38. terrible cook, better baker

39. still keeps in contact with elle, elle rang her after she stopped seeing jj on the tv and now they meet up for coffee twice a week, and elle comes to girls night when she can

40. pina colada lover

41. LOVES bereal and still does it everyday (never on time)

42. is always on aux but everyone is terrified of her music taste so they just let her

43. her phone is always above 70%

44. she is the mom friend and ALWAYS has everything in her bag that you need; medicine, pads, lipstick, money, chargers etc

45. tilts her head back when she laughs

46. twists her necklace when she's nervous

47. LOVES and i mean LOVES colouring (it relaxes her)

48. whenever someone new joins in the team she is ALWAYS the first person to show them around

49. keeps all her maternity clothes just in case someone needs them

50. her go to drink on a night out is vodka coke

51. elle bought her a butterfly necklace after she found out that she collected butterflies when she was younger and she started wearing it after she couldn't wear the one ros gave her anymore

52. when she was a media liaison, every time she would read that a case is really bad and hard one, she would bake chocolate chip cookies for the team and bring them into work before anyone notices and acts surprised when she sees them (hotch is the only one that knows it's her but no one else knows, he smiles at her subtly when she realizes how happy it makes them)

53. avid buffy stan (owns all the dvds, posters, merch) (teen jj used to write fics)

54. tells people her favourite movie is the godfather but it's actually cars (2006)

55. she LOVES british game shows and is genuinely really good at quiz shows (her general knowledge is amazing)

56. she dated a few girls in high school but elle was her first proper relationship

57. her favourite artist is david bowie and her favourite songs are heroes and starman

58. she was told that she was way to sensitive as a child and it impacted on her as an adult so she tries to teach henry and michael that it's okay to express their feelings as best as they can and that they can cry whenever they want and they don't have to keep it in

59. she kept all of henry and michael's drawings when they were growing up

60. she is a night owl but her kids aren't, so she gets up extra early because it makes them really happy

61. she doesn't like to label her sexuality and she doesn't see a point in doing so

62. babysat when she was younger but ended up loving it and wanted to be a teacher for a while

63. she loves journaling and writes to different versions of herself (mostly letters to her future self but she wrote a letter to her old self once and found it too upsetting)

64. she's a beer drinker

65. she still tells people that she has an older sister and she secretly writes letters to her but no one knows (emily figured it out when she saw her writing one once but she never brought it up)

66. she loves marvel and her favourite characters are; doctor strange, wanda, black widow, carol danvers, and spider-man (she also watches the films with henry all the time)

67. she still does those early 2000's magazine quizzes

68. she loves interior design and when her and will bought a house she did most of the work herself

69. she doodles when she's bored

70. she writes notes to henry and michael sometimes (and they write back little notes to her and she doesn't find them until she's in the bau and the team ask what they've written that day)

#criminal minds #fanfic #jennifer jareau #aj cook #jennifer jareau headcanons

[aangelichaos]

Sweet

Summary: Helping pre-outbreak Joel bake some cookies for a bake sale at Sarah’s school (Spoiler alert: He’s a terrible baker)

Rating: G

Word count: 1.8K

Warnings: One slightly suggestive part, other than that it's just fluff

A/N: I’m gonna be writing a lot of Joel x reader stuff so get used to it. Also requests are open so if you have anything for me to write please tell me, coming up with ideas is hard

Knock knock.

You groan, getting up from the cough and walking to the door. You open it to see Sarah Miller, your boyfriend’s daughter. “Sarah? What are you doing here? Where’s Joel?”

“Please help,” she pleads. “He’s trying to bake some cookies for the bake sale at school tomorrow, and it is not going well. You’re a good baker, can you please come help him?” She gives you her best puppy dog eyes.

You can’t help but snicker as you imagine Joel trying to bake. He’s probably covered in flour, and you wouldn’t be surprised if the kitchen smells like smoke. “Yeah, I’ll be over in a minute.” You quickly run upstairs to change out of your pajamas and throw your hair back into a ponytail. You come back downstairs to see Sarah still waiting for you, and you throw on your shoes. “Let’s go.”

When you walk in, things don’t look much better than you had imagined. The house does, in fact, have a smoky scent to it, and Joel has quite a few smudges of various ingredients on his clothes. You can’t stop yourself from laughing at it all.

“Sarah!” Joel yells. “Why did you-“ He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. He turns to you. “I am so sorry, you weren’t meant to see this.”

“It’s okay, it’s okay. Sarah asked me to come over and help, and I told her I was happy to.” You reassure him, sensing that he’s embarrassed. “It’s no problem, really.”

Joel glares at Sarah, and she just shrugs before turning to leave. “I’m gonna go do my homework. Have fun! Don’t burn down the house.”

“Hey!” Joel shouts as she runs upstairs. He looks back to you. “Look, I’m sorry for this. I don’t need your help. I got it under control.”

You raise your eyebrows at him.

Joel sighs. “Fine. Maybe I need a little help.” He looks embarrassed.

You smile at him. “Joel, it’s okay. You can’t be amazing at everything, it’s perfectly fine if you need help.” You press a kiss to his cheek. “Plus, you know I like baking. This’ll be fun.”

He nods. “Yeah, okay.” He gestures to the mess of a kitchen. “I was, uh… tryin’ to make some chocolate chip cookies, but obviously that didn’t really work out.” He chuckles. “They were still all gooey when the timer went off, so I left ‘em in for a few minutes longer and they were practically burnt to a crisp.”

You nod. “It happens. I’ve done it a few times myself.” You look around at the ingredients strewn about the counter. “You think we have enough ingredients here to make another batch? Or do I need to grab some stuff from my house?”

“There should be enough here. But I don’t trust myself enough to say for sure at this point, so you should probably check,” he responds, laughing lightly.

After a moment of looking through the various bags and containers, you turn back to him. “Looks good. Let’s get started,” you say. “First things first, let’s clean off these dirty baking tools.”

Joel nods. “Ah, right.” He grabs everything off the table and dumps them in the sink. Within minutes, everything is washed up. “You preheat the oven, and I’ll dry these off, ‘k?” he says, grabbing some paper towels.

“Sir, yes sir!” you shout, giving him a salute. He looks at you with an amused expression before turning back to what he was doing, laughing to himself. You smile and turn to the oven, preheating it to 350°. “Alright, cowboy. You go ahead and tell me what we need next.”

“Uh… says we need to mix together flour, salt, and baking soda,” he says.

You grab the mixing bowl and measuring tools and join him, placing them on the counter. “Two and a quarter cups of flour,” you read. You place the measuring cups into his hand. “Go for it.” You watch as he struggles to fill the measuring cup, spilling flour. “Wow, don’t quit your job to become a baker.”

“Shut the hell up,” he mutters, now attempting to smooth out the flour with a butter knife. Not surprisingly, he slips and ends up hitting himself in the face with flour, coughing. You wince. Poor guy really can’t bake.

“You want me to do it?” You ask, patting his back.

He shoves the measuring cup into your hand without hesitation. “Here, take it.” He grabs a glass of water for himself to ease the coughing as he watches you scoop and level out the flour with ease. How do you make it look so easy? He asks you as much, leaning against the counter.

You shrug. “I dunno. Practice, I guess.” You finish measuring and mixing the dry ingredients, not daring to hand the measuring cup back to him. Not that he would take it, anyways. “Here, how ‘bout you try the next step? All you have to do is soften some butter in the microwave and mix in some sugar. I can get the sugar for you, if you want."

He nods. "I can do that." He looks at the cookbook. "Alright, two sticks of butter..." He grabs the butter from the fridge, unwrapping the sticks and placing them into a bowl. "How long do these go in the microwave?"

You look up from mixing the dry ingredients. "Put it in for 30 seconds at a time till it's soft enough."

"Alright." He turns to the microwave and places the bowl inside, setting the timer to 30 seconds like you said. "Hey, uh... thanks for this."

“Hm? Oh, yeah, no problem.” You wave your hand dismissively. “You don’t gotta thank me, I’m more than happy to help.”

He sighs. “I know, it’s just… I dunno, I feel kinda silly, I guess. For God’s sake, I’m a grown ass man, and I can’t even make cookies for my daughter’s bake sale without nearly burnin’ down the house.”

You laugh a bit at that. “It’s okay to not be great at everything, hon. Baking can be difficult, I don’t blame you for having trouble.” You turn to him and rest your hand on his shoulder, giving him a reassuring smile. “I want to be here, Joel. I’m having fun. So stop worrying about it. Okay?”

He grins at that, giving you a quick kiss. “Okay, darlin’.”

“Great. Now that butter isn’t gonna heat itself, cowboy. Get to work,” You say, playfully smacking his arm.

He rolls his eyes. “Yes, ma’am.”

After a lot of spilling ingredients on Joel’s part and reassurance on yours, the two of you finally get the cookies into the oven. You lean against the counter and sigh happily. “Alright, now all we gotta do is wait.” You turn to Joel and find him staring at you. “What? Do I have something on my face?”

Before you can say another word, he surges toward you and presses his lips to yours. You smile against his lips as you immediately wrap your arms around his neck, kissing him back.

You pull away momentarily, giggling when he whines and chases your lips. “What’s all this for?” you laugh.

“Just really like you,” he mumbles, leaning in again. He grabs the backs of your thighs, lifting you up onto the counter as he presses sweet kisses to your lips.

You pull him closer, kissing him back with equal eagerness. It feels so nice to kiss him like this. No distractions, no interruptions-

“Oh, gross.” Never mind. You and Joel pull away from each other immediately. Joel backs away from the counter as you hop down, both of you blushing furiously.

“Hey, honey…” Joel starts, trying to pretend as if nothing ever happened.

Sarah looks between you and Joel with a wrinkled nose. “Next time you guys wanna share spit, do it someplace where I won’t see it.”

Joel gives her a stern look. “Sarah, please. Don’t make this more embarrassin’ than it already is.”

She rolls her eyes. “Fine, whatever. But I don’t wanna see that again. So, are the cookies almost done? And edible?”

You laugh as Joel glares at her. “Yes, Sarah. They’ll be out in about five minutes, and they’ll be delicious. Your father tried very hard, so I think you should thank him.”

Sarah turns to him. “Thanks, Dad.” She then looks to you. “And thank you for making the cookies.”

Joel groans. “That’s it. Sarah, out. Go.. I dunno, do something that isn’t here.”

She crosses her arm and sticks out her tongue at him before leaving and heading back up to her room.

“Christ, that child can be a real handful,” he sighs, running his hand through his hair. “I’m real sorry ‘bout that, I don’t know why she feels the need to act this way.” He look at you apologetically.

“Ah, I think it’s funny.” You smile at him, placing one last kiss to his lips. “Why don’t you come over to my house after Sarah goes to bed tonight? We won’t be interrupted there…”

“Sounds good to me,” he mutters lowly, desire in his gaze as he leans closer.

Before either of you can say another word, the oven starts beeping.”Oh!” You grab an oven mitt and pull the baking sheet out, setting it on the stove.

Joel whistles. “They look delicious, hon.” He kisses your cheek. “Thanks again for helpin’ out. Really ‘preciate it.”

You smile. “No problem, cowboy.”

Soon enough, Sarah smells the unmistakable scent of freshly baked cookies and comes downstairs. “Oooh, yummy!” She tries to grab one.

Joel smacks her hand away. “Hey, those are hot. And they ain’t for you anyway.”

“Yeah, but we need to make sure they taste good,” she argues.

“No,” Joel says sternly.

Sarah stares at him for a moment. “Fine. Okay.” She turns to leave, then pauses for a second. “Just kidding.” She grabs a cookie and bolts out of the room, cackling as she runs up the stairs.

Joel sighs, and you can’t help but laugh. “It’s just one cookie, sweetheart. We have plenty more.”

He laughs too. “This was just the beginning. If I don’t hide them from her, they’ll all be gone by tomorrow morning.” He chuckles. “Anyways, uh… thanks for stoppin’ by to help. Um.. I’ll see you tonight?”

“You don’t expect me to leave without helping you clean up this mess, do you?” I smile. “C’mon, you know me better than that.”

“Eh, I got it. Did it to myself. Don’t worry your pretty head about it.” He presses a kiss to your cheek.

“But-“ you try to protest.

“Or else I’m not comin’ over tonight.” He smirks, knowing he got you.

You glare at him. “Fine. Ten o’clock, okay?”

He grins. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world, gorgeous. I’ll see you then.” And with one more kiss and a light nibble to your ear, he send you out the door. “See you later, sweetheart!” He shouts from the door.

You wave at him, grinning. “See you!” You walk back to your house, head filled with fantasies of whatever tonight would entail.

#joel miller x reader #joel x reader #fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #the last of us imagine #the last of us #tlou #tlou imagine #the last of us fanfiction #no beta we die like my faith in humanity #going feral over him #i might write a smut continuation about what happens that night and post it on my alt #because why not

[blueberryrock]

Just a taste.

A/N this turned out to be longer than originally planned but eh that's what happens when i write for Thranduil 💀oh well i hope you guys like it, i know i had fun writing it cause i need the fluff lol, anyways enjoy!

Rules, Requests, and More!

The heat of the large open ovens makes Y/N’s apron and clothes cling to her skin, silently thanking the Valar for remembering to keep her hair in a tight bun at the top of her head instead of allowing it to cling to her skin like her clothes. With a quiet huff, Y/N dumps the carefully measured cups of flour into a large metal bowl before whipping away the sweat that had gathered on her brow.

Her ears twitch at the sound of elves making a commotion but Y/N decides to do her best to ignore them until the head chef gently grabs her shoulder as she whisks together dry ingredients. 

“Look sharp Y/N,“ her boss, the head baker, muttered. "Our King has decided to check in on our progress for the feast and I heard his dwarven guests kept him from lunch."

"Oh no," Y/N groans as she turns around to face the head baker, hugging the cold metal bowl to her chest as she continues to whisk. "You know to hide the pie filling right?" 

"Do not worry my Lady, I have already ordered that," the head chef nods, crossing his arms over his chest. "We have also hidden the stuffing as well."

"Good, good," Y/N hums, turning swiftly on her heel to start dumping the dry ingredients into the larger bowl with the wet ingredients. "Then I assume all that is left to hide is my work?"

"That is correct, my Lady."

"Then do not concern yourself with it," Y/N grunts as the mixture in the bowl becomes thicker with each stir. "I will make sure it is well guarded."

"If you say so my Lady," the head chef nods before swiftly walking away to leave Y/N with her dough.

"Oh Meleth," Y/N mutters to herself as she continues to stir the dough, making sure all the flour has been thoroughly mixed in. "Why must you be so childish about these things?" A frown tugs at Y/N's lips but she shakes it off, setting the large metal bowl filled with plain cookie dough, Y/N wipes her flour-covered hands on her apron before turning away in search of something to put in the dough.

From what little knowledge of dwarves that Y/N has, chocolate seems to be a hit between both elves and dwarves. Y/N just hopes they like chunks of chocolate. The kitchens were crowded more so than usual, which is to be expected for the kingdom's guests, but it made it difficult for Y/N to navigate to the very back where the oven's overwhelming heat doesn't touch.

A shiver runs through Y/N as she reaches large wooden doors built to keep the hot air out. The doors open with a loud groan as Y/N quietly slips inside to find a set of stairs waiting for her. Immediately her hands rush to cling to the freezing railing as she makes her descent to the cold room where they keep any and all perishable items.

The quiet sound of rushing water tells her that she's almost at the bottom. The cold nips at Y/N as she finally reaches the bottom, her eyes scan through the shelves of meat and jugs of milk to find what she came down here for. A smile grows on her face when Y/N spots the large box near the back of the cold room. Carefully she makes her way to it and kneels in front of the chest.

The creak of its hinges tells her that it probably hasn't been open for a few months, but she still digs through the mountain of paper-wrapped packages to find one labeled with the kind of chocolate she needs. Once found, Y/N climbs to her feet and closes the box behind her, rushing towards the stairs as she knows she's running on limited time. 

Closing the large doors behind her, Y/N happily welcomes the familiar heat of the kitchen's ovens. Pushing past the rushing elves, Y/N is happy to find her counter space barren of the Elvenking, and she quickly starts to unwrap the bars of chocolate.

Chewing her lip in concentration, Y/N begins to break the thin bars into small bite-sized chunks before she dumps the first handful into the untouched cookie dough. Quickly folding in the chocolate chunks, a tired sigh escapes Y/N as large hands slide across her waist to pull her against a tall lithe form.

"Hello, Meleth nin," Y/N hums as she continues to fold the chunks in. "Thranduil."

"What are you making?" Thranduil asks, gently resting his chin in the crook of Y/N's neck. 

"It matters not, you're not getting a taste."

"Who are you to deny your king?" He hums before pressing a soft kiss to her neck. Another sigh leaves Y/N as she slowly melts against Thranduil. 

"I know what you are doing," she says as Thranduil continues to pepper her neck with small warm kisses, nearly dropping the dough-covered wooden spoon when Thranduil finds a sweet spot.

"Can I not shower my love with affections?" Thranduil murmurs before moving her tunic to place a long kiss on Y/N's shoulder, slowly her eyes fall shut as Thranduil's grip grows slightly tighter. 

"I…umm, HEY WAIT," Y/N's eyes flicker open as she feels one of Thranduil's hands snake away, quickly glancing down she finds his hand reaching out to grab the bowl. Immediately Y/N smacks his hand, which earns her an undignified yelp from the king.

"You dare strike your king," Thranduil murmurs as he immediately backs away, Y/N turns on her heel and rolls her eyes. "I should have you thrown in the dungeons."

"You still would not get a taste of the dough Thranduil," Y/N says as she crosses her arms against her chest, glaring at Thranduil as he rubs his hand. "You know nobody can eat this until it's cooked."

"How boring," Thranduil hums as he slowly closes the distance between them. Y/N's hands fly up to press against his chest in an attempt to hold him back, his long untied hair tickles the back of her hands, but Thranduil instead gently grabs her wrists and presses a small kiss to her palm.

"T-this will not w-work on me Me-meleth," Y/N stammers as he presses another kiss to the inside of her wrist. "I ju-just wish not to see you sick, e-especially when we h-have such important g-guests over."

"It would be such a shame if the king were to fall ill and those important guests would have to be sent home," Thranduil grins as he drops her hands, his hands wrapping around Y/N's waist again only to press her against the countertop. "Besides, you should know that I have never once gotten sick from eating raw cookie dough, I highly doubt I will now."

"B-but."

"Hush Meleth nin," Thranduil hums before pressing a soft kiss to Y/N's lips. "It's just a small taste." He adds before kissing her again, this time Y/N's hands move to grip his soft tunic. 

"Fine," she says breathlessly, not entirely sure if the heat on her face is from the ovens or Thranduil. "But only if you promise it's little."

"You have my word, Y/N," he grins before letting her step aside. "And as your gracious king, I will allow you to have a small taste as well."

Y/N rolls her eyes before a small smile of her own spreads across her face. "You forget who made it," she says, watching Thranduil use one of the yet-to-be-added chocolate chunks as a spoon to scoop a small amount of the dough out of the bowl. "I can have as much as I want."

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#the hobbit #thranduil #thranduil x reader #thranduil x you #thranduil x y/n #fotfics #fluff #nat writes stuff #nat's fics #i think that was my tag idr #king thranduil #thranduil oropherion

[hutaoscoffinn]

ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS IS YOU

Warnings: none, this is super fluffy, christmas headcanons, slightly chaotic, Rika loves the holidays as she should, baking with Rika, Rika being Rika, this is super cute, overall lots of floof, gn! Reader

Character: Rika of the elite 4

Requests: OPEN

Its that time of year aka christmas headcanons!!!

Merry Christmas everyone <3

Anyway lets get into it with good ol’ Rika

Rika is definitely a big fan of the holidays considering she absolutely loves the cheery vibe it brings to everyone

And its another reason for her to consume as much alcohol as she can whOOPS

But Rika also loves the holidays because now she can spend them with you

She practically has a to-do list of the different holiday activities she wants to do with you

And of course one of them has to be putting up a tree

But this is Rika so the christmas tree will not be an ordinary christmas tree

It has to be fun and something that fits the both of you and something that you can work on together!

Rika definitely will want some type of colored tree, anything but the normal evergreen color will work even if its just white

Then she wants to make at least some handmade ornaments with you

It’s definitely time consuming and not easy work but it’s something she has always wanted to try with a significant other and well now she wants to try it with you

Which means Rika will be dragging you to a craft store to get different supplies you may need as you both look at ideas for your ornaments together

Rika will definitely want to make ones that mean something to you both and are some memories you two have together and just different quirks of your own personalities

And you can bet Rika will be attempting to make a Clodsire ornament

Like cmon she has to

And of course after you little craft store run to get a ton of materials for ornaments and to start your crafty Christmas journey you have to get some hot chocolate on the way home

Or eggnog, coffee, tea, whatever your preference is

And so begins the wild ride that is making ornaments with Rika

If you are painting something for an ornament she will be dabbing some paint on your nose

When you look up at her confused, whining her name because of what she did, she will absolutely immediately fucking melt

She loves you so much and you’re too cute

If you retaliate and try to get paint on Rika’s nose, face, hands, ect the situation will absolutely devolve into a little mini paint fight that definitely ends up ruining whatever you both were wearing

But you had fun and made a new memory so thats what really matters right?

Even if it means saving the half finished ornaments for another day

Holidays with Rika mean more than just christmas tree decorating

Of course christmas baking is practically required which means making all sorts of christmas cookies and candies with Rika

If you’re good at baking Rika is happy to be your sous-chef, measuring ingredients for you or being the mixer as you tell her what to do or work on other parts of whatever you are making at the time

If you arent so good at baking then you can both learn together

Rika may not be the best baker ever but she definitely tries and won’t let even one failure slow her down

Either way, it’s going to be a joy

Rika will be teasing you the whole time in the kitchen

Hugging you from behind as you measure or mix something together

Stealing kisses from you the second you turn around to grab an ingredient

Trying to steal a taste of the cookie dough, frosting, batter, ect despite the fact that you have to threaten her with a wooden spoon each time she goes for a little taste

You’re almost tempted to shoo her out of the kitchen and finish everything yourself so that even some of what you are making gets into the oven

But dont worry, Rika behave so that you can both enjoy the finished sweet product together

And because she wants to decorate any christmas cookies or cakes you made together

None of your cookies or cakes will turn out as the typical aesthetic masterpieces you always see on baking shows or pinterest

But its fun to just decorate your creations together with Rika

Pouring too many sprinkles on over frosted cookies is fun and despite the mess, you would do it over again a million times

Holidays with Rika are full of joy and laughs

On cold nights she will always hold you extra close, pulling a fluffy blanket around you both as she cuddles you in her arms

On cold mornings she will make you hot chocolate piled high with marshmallow and a candy cane to top it off

She will wear the ugliest christmas sweaters she can find and buy you matching ones

Holidays with Rika also include dancing in the snow together on a night it happens to snow

Singing cheesy, romantic christmas songs while swaying in each others arms

Its sweet, cheesy, and maybe what some people consider “basic”

But its perfect

And christmas couldn’t be more fun without Rika to enjoy it with

Reblogs are always appreciated <3

#coffinn.writes #pokemon rika #pokemon rika x you #pokemon rika fluff #pokemon rika x reader #pokemon rika headcanon #rika x reader headcanons #rika x reader #rika x you #rika x reader fluff #rika elite four #rika elite 4 #rika elite 4 x reader #rika elite four x reader #pokemon elite 4 Rika #pokemon elite four Rika #christmas with Rika #christmas headcanons #i want christmas with Rika #if anyone wants a part 2 lemme know

[shiorimakibawrites]

First Date (Part 13 of Alley Cat)

Image credits: kissthemgoodbye.net / Amber Kipp / Nathan Dumlao

Image Description: Matt Murdock as red-suit Daredevil against nighttime city background in one block, Shadowy couple leaning against each other surrounded by candles overlooking a city in second block, under second block is text saying Alley Cat by Shiori_Makiba, the third block is a orange medium haired tabby laying on a table and looking up at the camera playfully. END ID.

Pairing: Matt Murdock x fem! Reader

Word Count: 8,465

Summary: You and Matt have your first date. Overlaps slightly with Anticipation.

Warning(s): Frank references and mentions of sex, Reader has a lot of impure thoughts, attempts at humor.

Can also be read on AO3

Series Masterlist can be found here.

First Date

You took a deep breath, steadied your grip on the cast iron skillet and the plate of your cake saver, and flipped. Gently you sat down the cake and carefully lifted the skillet. You smiled. The cake had come out perfect. It hadn’t fallen apart and none of the fruit topping had gotten stuck to the bottom of the skillet. Which was always satisfying. You put the cake aside to finish cooling.

You hoped that Nelson and Page liked their apology cake. You had done your best. You considered yourself a good home baker but there was always this little niggle of doubt whenever someone new was trying your food. Or you were testing a new recipe or recipe variation. This was a little mixture of both. Nelson and Page were almost new to your food, having only had your chocolate chip cookies. Well, you knew Page had eaten some of the cookies since she had complimented their taste. You were only assuming that Nelson had tried some too.

You had made pineapple upside down cake before but had made a minor tweak to your recipe to (hopefully) prevent the cake from being unpalatable to Matt. Yes, the cake wasn’t for him but there was a chance that Nelson and Page would decided that they couldn’t eat an entire cake by themselves and shared a slice with him.

As noted, the change was very minor. You had already switched your baking staples like flour to organic or something along those lines years ago. Fresh pineapple had been available but you were still a little tired from yesterday and were pretty sure that you would run out of steam before finishing the cake if you had to remove the rind, core, and attempt to cut a pineapple into more or less even slices. And all the whole pineapples had looked like more pineapple than you would need for the cake and while you liked pineapple, you could only eat so much of it. So you brought the canned sliced and crushed pineapple and hoped the label wasn’t lying about only containing fruit and juice. The actual change was in the maraschino cherries.

Previously you had used the cherries that was commonly available and inexpensive but your brother had thrown out that jar when he visited. He had gotten into mixing cocktails and very particular about the ingredients. And in his opinion, your maraschino cherries were trash that sullied the good name of maraschino cherries.

You rolled your eyes at the memory. Your brother could be a little dramatic.

He replaced the jar with one of his preferred types. They were dark red, almost black, instead the cartoonishly bright red of your old ones. The taste was more tart but when you compared the labels, the fancy cherries didn’t have food dyes and other such things in them. So fancy cherries it was to garnish this cake.

You hoped that his drama about cherries had paid off for you. Like his forgetting some of his clothes had already benefited you.

And now you were thinking about Matt’s arms. Again.

You glanced at the clock. It was a little after five. Nelson & Murdock was technically closed but you knew perfectly well that didn’t mean any of them were heading home. For one thing, even if they were calling it a day, there were things that would need to be taken care of first. Like closing out the point-of-sale or making sure things like their notes and other confidential information has been secured. For another, all of that research and writing wasn’t going to do itself and if they had been tied up in court or meetings most of the day . . .

Last but certainly not least, they were criminal defense attorneys. Arrests and/or interrogations weren’t restricted to normal business hours. Nelson had made sure that you were aware that if the police wanted to question you or worse, arrest you, that he didn’t care what time it was. Call him. Their answering service would re-direct the call to his or Matt’s personal phones if it was after hours. One of them would be there, just sit tight and keep your mouth shut until then.

Given your profession, he had to be aware that you likely already knew all that but you appreciated that he didn’t assume and make sure you were both on the same page.

You had intended to start baking as soon as you got home but your sister called you. You had immediately answered as soon as you heard her ringtone because the last time you had talked, Beth hadn’t been feeling well. Hearing her sound so happy when she returned your greeting was a welcome relief.

Turned out, she wasn’t sick at all. She was pregnant again. Which made her and her husband happy since they had been thinking of trying for another kid now that your nephew was almost five. According to your sister, your niece and nephew were already exited about their new sibling through you suspected your nephew was just glad that he wasn’t going to be the baby anymore.

The only downside to Beth being deliriously happy was that she always wanted to spread that happiness around. Which for you, meant asking if she could set you up. Again. Which no. You loved your sister but the men she had tried to set you up with . . . . well, you couldn’t say they were bad choices. They were good looking in that normal sort of way, had good jobs, and most had been decent people. You just hadn’t clicked with any of them. There was no spark.

You had tried seeing if the spark would grow over time but it never did. All trying did was hurt you and the man in question. And had been making you start to feel like there was something fundamentally wrong with you. So you had put your foot down. You appreciated her efforts but from now on, you would find your own dates.

You weren’t having much better much luck than your sister at finding your special someone . . . but maybe that had changed. You could hope.

Beth had given an excited squeal when you told her that you had met someone. She wanted to know everything. You had told her most of it. You left out the Daredevil thing for obvious reasons. While you didn’t shy away from the fact that you found Matt attractive, you kept the incredible horniness he inspired in you deliberately vague. Maybe other sisters shared the details about their sex lives or sexual fantasies with each other but that wasn’t your relationship with your sister.

Besides some of your fantasies about Matt involved the Daredevil thing. You wondered if he still had the black outfit he started out with. Because you already knew that as incredible as his ass looked in those grainy photographs of his current suit in the newspaper, it had looked even better in person. And considering how good he had looked as the Man in the Black in those grainy photographs . . . .

You shook your head and pushed away those thoughts. You’d think about that fantasy later. When you were sure that you’d have time to enjoy it.

You decided to check on Houdini. He was being suspiciously quiet.

Finding the cat took long enough that you were starting to wonder if he had sneaked out but then you spotted him sleeping on top of the fridge. You weren’t sure how you managed to miss him. All the appliances in this apartment were black and he was, after all, orange. Cute as he looked, curled up in one of those contortionists positions that cats apparently love to be in, you managed to resist the urge to pet him. It would wake him up and an awake Houdini was one looking for mischief. Or food.

You pulled out one of the meals you had made previously and frozen for dinner. Heating it in a saucepan on the stove took almost no brain power. Which was probably why your mind drifted back to Matt. Specifically his ass and how well it filled a pair of pants. Any pair of pants it would seem. The trousers for his lawyer suit, the red Daredevil armor, sweatpants . . . his ass looked incredible in them all. You bet he would look equally good in a pair of well-fitting jeans. And assuming he welcomed that sort of thing, if you would ever work up the courage to grab a handful. Or two. Probably would need two hands. His ass wasn’t small . . .

The phone ringing made you jump. Ringing with the ringtone you had assigned to Matt’s number. Of course, you had forgotten to take the phone with you into the kitchen so it was still sitting on your coffee table. You had to dash to answer it before it reached voicemail.

“Hello, sweetheart,” Matt greeted you, sounding cheerful like he was smiling. You hoped so. “What are you up to?”

Thinking about your ass while I make dinner was the honest answer but there was absolutely no way you were going to say that. “Oh, just heating some beef and mushrooms for dinner.”

“Sounds delicious,” he said.

“You’re welcome to come over and have some,” you offered. “I have plenty.”

“I would love to, sweetheart, but unfortunately we still need to finish some things before court tomorrow. Probably won’t be finished until it gets late.”

“Oh,” you said, trying to feel too disappointed. You had no reason. You had gotten an impromptu lunch date today. You were going on a date this Friday. And unless he was out when you dropped off the cake, you’d see him tomorrow.

“But I said that I would call you,” he continued. “Since I have a minute, I’m doing it now.”

“I appreciate it,” you said. You have would understood if he had forgotten. You had sometimes forgotten to return the calls of friends and family after getting very busy at work. You might have forgotten to return work calls if you hadn’t written yourself a reminder. Usually on a sticky note, bright pink to make it stand out from the yellow tabs and sticky notes used by the office.

But it was nice, not starting off this relationship with a broken promise. “I can let you go if you need to get back to work?”

“No need,” he said. “Foggy and I are taking a break for dinner. He just went to grab us some Chinese.”

“Doesn’t trust you to make the food run?” you asked.

“I was informed that my meal-retrieving privileges are suspended until further notice.”

You laughed and then said, “That’s fair.”

Matt chuckled. “Yeah, can’t blame him for that one. Do you like Italian?”

“Of course,” you said, giving your dinner a stir to make sure that it didn’t burn. “Why?”

“There is an Italian restaurant not far from my place,” he said. “Family-owned, it’s small but the food is really good. I was thinking of taking you there Friday.”

You smiled and answered, “That sounds wonderful.”

“Perfect,” he said. “I can meet you at your place and we can walk there. Does seven o’clock work for you?”

You did some mental math. Assuming you got off on time, that should give you enough to get back here, make sure Houdini was settled, and get ready.

“Seven should be good,” you said. “I’ll let you know if that changes.”

“Likewise,” he said.

If he said anything after that, you didn’t hear it after you were startled by a loud thud and dropped your phone. You whirled around but it was just Houdini. Awake now and hopping off the top of the fridge onto the counter. You picked up your phone and before the phone got near your ear, you could hear Matt’s concerned voice.

“-heart, are you alright?”

“Yeah,” you said. “I’m fine. I just dropped my phone when Houdini startled me.”

“That’s good,” he said, sounding relieved.

“Sorry if I scared you,” you said.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “It wasn’t intentional.”

“Houdini is sorry too,” you added.

“Is he?” Matt asked, a hint of amusement already creeping back into his tone.

“Probably not but I’m apologizing for him anyway.”

Matt chuckled.

Houdini apparently decided he wasn’t done scaring you. He walked across the counter and onto the stove, heading straight for the lit burner.

“No!” you yelled, grabbing the cat before he got too close and burned himself. He protested loudly as you lifted him up and squirmed. It was difficult not to drop the phone again. Houdini wasn’t fat but he was big enough that trying to hold him with one hand was awkward even when he wasn’t being a wiggle worm. You didn’t know how Matt managed not to drop him and climb the fire escape at the same time. Granted his hands were bigger than yours . . . and maybe ninjas have some kind of cat wrangling trick they are keeping from the rest of us . . .

“Sweetheart?” Matt interrupted your train of thought, sounding concerned again.

“Houdini decided he wanted to help me cook,” you explained.

“Wants add chef to his resume?”

“Maybe,” you said. Houdini meowed at you. He didn’t like that you were still holding him when he didn’t want to be held and paying more attention to your phone than him.

“Don’t meow me, mister, you know you aren’t allowed to walk on the stove,” you scolded the cat as you sat him on the floor. In typical cat fashion, he didn’t remain there for long. He immediately jumped into the counter and turned around to give you a look, his tail twitching. Silently daring to you to put him back on the floor. Knowing full well that he will jump right back up there, almost as soon as his paws hit the floor.

“I’m watching you, fluffy,” you warned the cat, picking up the spoon from where it had been hastily dropped onto counter. You had almost forgotten you were on the phone. Until the bark of laughter in your ear reminded you.

“Umm . . . sorry?” you said.

“For what?” he asked, still chuckling. “I already know that cat likes to be distracting.”

“It is his favorite game,” you agreed, stirring your dinner again before determining that it was hot enough and killing the heat. “Sorry for basically yelling in your ear.”

“It’s alright,” he said. Then he lowered his voice, “You don’t have to worry about getting loud, sweetheart. I want to hear you.”

Judging by the husky quality to his voice, he wasn’t talking about general conversational loudness. You felt your face get warm and heat began to gather between your legs.

“Good to know,” you managed to say.

He might have said more, might have gotten you even more worked up but you could just about hear the indistinct murmur of another voice from his side of the line.

“Be right there, Fogs,” he said, his voice a little distant like he had pulled away from the phone to answer his friend. “Hate to cut this short, sweetheart, but I have to get back to work.”

“No problem,” you said. “I’ll see you on Friday.”

“Yes, you will,” he said. This time you understand why he put so much emphasis on you. Apparently even when he is Daredevil, he couldn’t resist making jokes about being blind. Well, it was his secret identity and his disability. If anyone was allowed to be snarky about it, it was him.

“Get back to work, Mr. Smartass,” you ordered.

Matt laughed and said, “Yes, ma’am.”

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Wonder of wonders, you actually managed to get off work on time. Opposing counsel hadn’t filed any motions with the court at the last minute to make sure you and the others had to spent this Friday night and maybe the rest of weekend responding to said motions. Jackson might have done it but Ms. Stahl thought he was being careful after his last stunt. The judge had not been amused by it. Classic literature had been quoted.

The first thing you did was give Houdini some attention. You thought he might be more inclined to forgive you for leaving him alone all night if he got spoiled a little first. And if something was going to completely covered in cat fur, it ought to be your work clothes instead of your date clothes. Through you would still probably have some fur on you. Cat fur was like glitter. It got everywhere, into everything.

When Houdini got bored with cuddling, you gave him an bigger than usual serving of his wet food. After you checked on his dry food and water, you did a quick run up the roof to check on your plants. Some of the sweet peppers were big enough to harvest. The basil and oregano looked almost big enough to harvest again. Maybe you would dry this batch. The tomatoes weren’t quite there yet. You picked the ripe peppers and returned to your apartment, stowing them in the fridge.

That done, you took a deep breath and started getting ready for your date. You were feeling nervous. Part of those nerves was your promise to wear a pair of Jo had named as slut panties and the knowledge that unless something interrupted you again, you would be having sex tonight. It had been awhile since you had sex with someone other than yourself.

But most of your nerves that you wanted this date to go well. Not just because Matt was the most beautiful man you had ever laid eyes on. Or just because you wanted sex. You weren’t going to lie to yourself and say those things didn’t matter to you but that weren’t the main reasons you wanted everything to go well. The main reason was that you really liked Matt.

He was smart. Witty. Charming. He made you laugh. He had an obvious temper and a lot of anger but was also compassionate enough to put himself in danger to protect others instead of ignoring their suffering. You had already seen that he could be very sweet. Gentle when that was what was needed.

You couldn’t say that you loved him. It was too soon for that. You didn’t really know him yet. But you could sense that the potential was there. That one day, it could be love. And maybe it was selfish but you wanted that.

You went into the bathroom and turned on the shower. Today had been rather hot and humid. You weren’t going on this date smelling like dried sweat. You would have showered for any date, especially after such a hot day, but Matt had a bloodhound nose. Which made it extra important. Thinking about his sense of smell, you had a moment of hesitation about using your usual products . . . the vanilla scent in the body wash and lotion or the coconut in your shampoo and conditioner wasn’t very strong but . . .

You reminded yourself that he hadn’t seemed to mind those scents before. He hadn’t sneezed or made excuses to cut your encounters short. He let you hug him and fell asleep on you. You assumed that if the smell bothered him, he wouldn’t do that. And when he commented on the scent of your body products at his office, he didn’t sound like he found them distasteful. In fact, after you rather embarrassingly compared yourself to a cookie, he had made some remark about liking to eat coconut macaroons . . .

There had been an implication there . . . one that matched the hints that Jo had teased you with from those rumors she wouldn’t tell you . . .

You pushed away those thoughts. Now was not the time. You were having a hard enough time keeping it in your pants around Matt as it was. No need to get yourself all worked up before he even got here. You might do something crazy. Like have your way with him in the elevator of your building. You focused your attention on getting yourself clean and giving your legs a quick overview with the razor.

Once you were satisfied that you were well-scrubbed, you dried yourself off and slathered on lotion, paying particular attention to your legs. Shaving was a hassle sometimes but you had to admit that you rather liked how your freshly shaved legs felt. Wrapping yourself in a towel, you headed toward your bedroom and the daunting task of figuring out what to wear.

You had been taught that dressing nicely for a date was just good manners. That Matt couldn’t see what you were wearing was irrelevant.

You decided to start with underwear since that was the most limited selection. And starting there would give your nerves about actually wearing the aforementioned slut panties the most time to settle. Jo would understand if you got too anxious to go through with it but you wanted to at least try.

You laid out your options on your bed and considered. One pair was easy to eliminate. Crotchless panties was closer to going without panties than you were comfortable with. You were almost certain that Jo had picked those purely to see you splutter at the outrageous suggestion. She had succeeded. But she had also brought out your stubborn streak and you bought them anyway.

The thong went into the no pile for similar reasons as the crotchless panties.

The last two pairs were the tamest. Being a very high-legged style, they looked like they would cover less than your usual panties. The front and crotch panels were solid but the rear panel was made of see-through lace. You knew that the see-through aspect held no appeal for Matt but you hoped that he might enjoy the texture of the lace itself. Jo had made a saucy remark about encouraging him to fondle your ass. And you had to admit that idea had a lot of appeal . . .

She cited similar logic for why you needed to buy the matching bras to the last two pairs of panties. ‘You don’t want him forgetting to give your tits some love. Besides, the second rule of being a slut is regardless of whether your lover takes it off or reaches under your shirt, what they find is either the sexy bra or your bare tits,’ was her exact words.

You strongly suspected that she was making these rules up as she went along. Regardless, she was persuasive. You had bought the bras.

The only difference between the two was their color. One was black. The other was dark red. It was almost the same shade of red as the Daredevil suit . . . and suddenly your mind was made up. You were wearing the red one. A little secret nod to his alter ego. Who you had, after all, met first. You would save the black set for another night.

One of your silk blouses was the same shade of dark red but you had worn it earlier this week. The other one, the one in scarlet, was clean but you didn’t want to overdo the red. You liked red well enough but it wasn’t your favorite color. Beth and Jo, at least, would question the sudden interest in the color if you started wearing it all the time. And you didn’t want them (or anyone else) making any Daredevil shaped conclusions. So you pulled out the one in teal.

You considered wearing slacks but you had been wearing those all week at the office. You wanted to wear something different. So you looked to your skirts. You had some very short ones – Jo again – but since you were going somewhere that might have children present, you opted for the longer ones. Black, light weight fabric, about knee length with a fluttery hem that produced a nice swish when you walked.

You decided to wear a pair of your slip-on flats. Jo would have worn what she liked to call her ‘fuck me pumps’ but Jo could run in high heels. You regularly tripped over your own feet. Consequently, you seldom risked wearing heels higher than an inch and half.

Despite your nerves about it, slipping on the slut panties was . . . . exciting. There was a certain thrill in being a little naughty. You knew your more old-fashioned relatives would say you were being very naughty. Planning to have premarital sex. Wearing the kind of underwear that you had once heard one of your aunts describe as the devil’s panties.

The memory made you laugh out loud. Your aunt had no idea. Here you were, about to go out with the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen himself. While wearing the devil’s panties. You wondered what Matt would say about that . . . you snickered as you pulled on your skirt.

You couldn’t get your snickering under control until you finished dressing but you felt better. Looser, more relaxed. Guess you just needed a laugh. You went back to the bathroom to do your hair and make up with a spring in your step.

You had just finished tidying up the bathroom when you heard the intercom buzz. Your heart began to race with excitement. Please be Matt and not one of your neighbors accidentally locking themselves out. Again. You – barely – managed to restrain the urge to run to it. Walking normally and even managing to sound causal when you asked, “Who is it?”

“It’s me, sweetheart,” said Matt. “Can you buzz me in?”

“Sure,” you said, reaching for the button to unlock the front door.

“Thanks. Be right with you.”

While you waited, you looked for Houdini. It was always a good idea to know where the cat was when the door was going to be opened. While the windows were his favorite escape route, he wasn’t adverse to darting out of the door when the opportunity arouse.

There he was, napping on the coffee table. Sprawled out on his side, his front paws wrapped around the strap of your purse, the rest of it under his body. Making sure you can’t leave without saying good-bye to him. He was too cute not to pet and this time you couldn’t resist. He made a little purring noise, nuzzling into your hand.

You kept petting Houdini while keeping an ear out for the knock on the door. It didn’t take long. Again, it took more willpower than was pretty to walk to the door instead of run.

“Hi,” you said as you opened the door. And felt your mouth go dry. Matt always looked good but tonight, he looked good enough to eat. Maroon polo shirt, just tight enough to emphasize the width of his shoulders and the large muscles of his upper arms but loose enough not to look painted on. That it left his forearms bare, with all of their muscles and dark hair, was just a bonus. None of the buttons had been done up so you also got a tantalizing hint of his broad chest. His thick thighs were encased in well-fitting black slacks. If his legs looked that good in those pants, his ass was going to be incredible . . .

You blamed his inherent sexiness for how long it took you to realize that his hands weren’t empty. In addition to the expected white cane in one hand, in the other was a bouquet of flowers. They looked like daisies except that they weren’t all white but blue, purple, pink, and yellow. You felt stunned. Had he gotten you flowers? You couldn’t remember the last time someone had gotten you flowers . . .

“Hello sweetheart,” he greeted you, smiling. He held out the bouquet and said, “These are for you.”

“Me?” You repeated, feeling your heart flutter.

“For you,” he confirmed, his smile and voice going soft, gentle as spring rain. Your hands shook a little when you reached for the flowers, feeling almost like they would disappear if you actually touched them. But when your hands closed around the bouquet, they didn’t vanish.

“Thank you,” you said, cradling the flowers against your chest. “Come in while I get a vase.”

You stepped back to give him room to enter. Watching him walk into your living room, you discovered you were right. His ass did look incredible in those pants. So incredible it was almost criminal. Surely they caused car accidents. Because who could resist the urge to stare?

“My eyes are up here.”

Your head snapped up at his voice. Matt had his face turned toward you, over his shoulder, those pretty lips set in that smug little smirk. He was wearing his dark glasses so you couldn’t see his eyes but you would bet good money that they were sparkling with amusement. He knew you were staring at his ass. You didn’t know how he knew but he definitely knew. You felt your face heat.

Desperate for a distraction, you turned your attention to the flowers in your hands. It was a touching gesture, getting you flowers. And not the stereotypical roses. You didn’t dislike roses. They were pretty and they smelled nice without being cloyingly sweet. It was just everyone seemed to pick roses . . .

“Are these daisies?” you asked.

It was an obvious change of subject. Judging by that raised eyebrow, he was well aware what you were doing but apparently decided to be merciful and allow it.

“Asters,” he answered. “Daisies are toxic to cats. Or so says the internet. But I figured you rather be safe than sorry in this case.”

“Absolutely,” you agreed. Houdini might occasionally dance on your last nerve but you loved him and would hate for him to get sick. Or worse.

“Florist said they come in a variety of colors but since I didn’t know which you would prefer, I told her to put in a little of each.”

“I like a little of each better than a single color,” you said. “It’s more dynamic that way.”

He nodded and said, “Good to know.”

You moved into your kitchen, carefully setting the flowers down on your small table, before starting to look for the vase. You had a nice one, a housewarming gift from your sister, but you hadn’t been using it much. So you had put it away and didn’t quite remember where you had stashed it. You were pretty sure it was somewhere in the kitchen, probably on the top shelves of these cabinets . . .

There it was, in the small cabinet above the fridge. You reached up to grab it and discovered that it was just far enough back to be out of range of your fingers. Not even on your tip-toes could you reach it. You sighed, dropped back flat on your feet, and turned to drag over your step-stool. Only to left out a startled yelp. You hadn’t realized that Matt had gotten that close.

He looked entirely too pleased with himself, wearing that amused little smirk while you tried to convince your heart to stop racing.

“Bell,” you said firmly.

“Bell?” he repeated, his amused smirk only growing.

“Yes,” you said. Then, with as much as authority as you could muster, said, “All cats should have to wear bells.”

“Not a cat,” he countered.

“Ninja are classified as cats,” you said. “You are a ninja and therefore a cat. So you must wear a bell. It’s the law.”

“Is it?” He asked. “Haven’t come across that particular statute.”

“It’s from 1871 and admittedly it’s not as rigidly enforced today as it once was,” you said, feigning seriousness. “But it’s still on the books.”

“Houdini doesn’t seem to have a bell,” he observed.

“He has one. He takes his collar off,” you said.

“And you just let him get away with breaking the law like that?” he asked.

“No,” you said. “He hides it after he takes it off.”

Matt’s grin got even wider. “Does he? Same place everytime?”

“No,” you said, shaking your head. “Always a different location.”

“Quite the criminal mastermind you have.”

“Yes,” you said. “Good thing Daredevil is keeping him in check. Otherwise he might have taken over the city by now.”

Matt laughed, that delighted laugh that lit up his entire face and brought out those dimples. It was unbearably cute.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, sweetheart,” he said once he got his amusement under control. “Houdini is a very tough opponent.”

Probably because he heard his name, Houdini gave a loud meow from the living room. Which just made you both laugh.

“Did you find your vase?” he asked after you both calmed down.

“Yes,” you said. “I just need to get my step-stool. It’s just out of my reach.”

“Or I could get it down for you,” he said.

“Or you could get it down for me,” you repeated. The asked, “You don’t mind?”

“I wouldn’t have offered if I minded, sweetheart,” he said. “Now where is this vase?”

In seconds you had your vase. After filling it with water, you arranged the colorful asters to your liking. After some consideration, you placed it in the middle of your small kitchen table. There was nowhere in your apartment where it would be completely safe from getting knocked over by your cat but in the kitchen, it had a chance. It wouldn’t last two minutes on your coffee table.

As it was, Houdini hopped onto the table and started giving the vase a thorough inspection. Something he always did to anything new or had been stored away for any length of time.

“Be a good cat,” you told him. “Don’t break anything. No wild parties.”

Houdini meowed as if saying no promises, human.

Judging by the little smile on Matt’s face, he found your little conversation with your cat amusing. You retrieved your purse, swung it onto your shoulder, then double-checked that you had your phone and your keys.

“Shall we?” Matt asked, holding out his free hand.

“We shall,” you agreed, managing to sound confident even as some of your earlier nerves threatened to return. Your hand trembled a little when you reached for his offered hand but it was steady by the time you actually slide your hand into his. Probably sensing your nerves, he gently squeezed your hand and pulled you close to his side. Then you walked out of the door and headed for the elevator.

At first you walked in silence , the only sounds between the ambient noises of the building and the tap-tap of his cane. But sometimes when you were nervous, you found silences uncomfortable and got chatty. Tonight was apparently one of those times.

“You look nice,” you said. “Maroon is a good color on you.”

“Thank you, I try,” he said. “I’ll have to take your word about the maroon. Well, yours as well as Foggy and Marci.”

“Foggy and Marci?” you asked.

“Foggy bought me this and a couple of other shirts in order to get me to wear, I quote, ‘something that isn’t black, navy, brown, or gray’ but Marci helped him picked them out. Said she didn’t want a repeat of ‘the mustard travesty.’”

“The mustard travesty?” you repeated.

“Apparently one of the shirts he bought me during college was ‘the color of Dijon mustard’ and Marci says that putting me in mustard is ‘a fashion crime against humanity.’”

You tried to picture that. You weren’t sure it was possible for Matt to look terrible but agreed that mustard probably wasn’t the best color choice for him.

“What are you wearing?” he asked as you pressed the button for the ground floor.

It was a reasonable question. But it reminded you of what you were wearing under those clothes. Which made you face feel a little warm.

“Oh nothing fancy, just a skirt and a blouse,” you said, trying to sound casual.

Matt tilted his head slightly to the side you were on. Like he was listening closely to you. You wondered why. “One of those silk blouses your sister got you?”

“Yes,” you said. “The teal one.”

“Not sure I remember what teal looks like,” he said.

“It’s a mixture of blue and green,” you said.

He made a little humming noise of acknowledgment. “Your skirt?”

“Black.”

“Is this skirt short?” he asked.

“No,” you answered. “Why?”

“Just curious about why asking about your outfit made you more nervous that you already were. Thought maybe you had worn something a little daring, something you don’t wear very often.”

“Like a skirt too short for the office?” you asked.

He nodded.

“Nope. No short skirts tonight,” you said.

“But you did wear something daring.”

You spluttered, the earlier warmth in your face increasing. “How did – ?”

“Know? I suspected when you didn’t deny wearing something daring, just that it wasn’t your skirt. I knew when you reacted like that,” he said.

He adopted a thoughtful look as he seemed to think out loud, “Wearing something daring . . . it’s not your skirt . . . you said your silk blouses were the same aside from their color and I know you wore another one to work earlier this week so not your blouse . . . that leaves something you didn’t or wouldn’t mention . . . like your underwear.”

Your face felt like it was on fire. The thoughtful playfulness on his face shifted into something hungry, almost predatory. That look stirred something within you, kindling that dormant fire between your legs back to life. Matt’s nostrils flared and the tip of his tongue swept across his lips. He let go of your hand in favor of snaking his arm around your shoulders. You let out a squeak as he pulled you against him.

Despite the hunger on his face, his hold was gentle. You could easily wriggle out of it if you wanted to. But you didn’t want to. You wanted to be closer, wanted to press flush against his body.

“Am I right?” he whispered in your ear, his voice low and rough. “Are you wearing something pretty for me under these clothes, sweetheart?”

The voice alone was enough to make you shudder but the sensation of his breath against your ear, teasing that sensitive spot on your neck, added fuel to the fire within you.

“Y-yes,” you answered. He rumbled, his hand starting to slide from your shoulder down your back . . .

The ding of the elevator as it reached the ground floor made you jump and hastily pull away, vaguely feeling like a teenager getting caught making out by their parents. The doors slide open and you stepped out into the lobby, Matt walking closely behind you. You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down.

Dinner, then maybe sex, you silently reminded yourself. Assuming he still wants to have sex with you by then.

You looked around for something to distract your mind away from the gutter and found it in the form of Mrs. Dudley standing by the mailboxes, collecting her mail. She was staring at Matt with narrowed eyes and a suspicious frown. You wondered if she had seen Matt leaving earlier this week, dressed in your brother’s sweatpants. Probably if the sneering glare she sent in your direction was any indication. She pointedly turned her back to you and beside you, Matt stiffened.

“Let me guess,” you whispered to him. “She’s muttering about me being a whore.”

“Yes,” he said. “How did you know?”

“Mrs. Dudley is a very religious woman,” you explained. “I forget which specific branch of Protestant Christianity she subscribes to but the bottom line is that she has very strong opinions about premarital sex. She probably saw you leaving Sunday morning. And then she saw you with me . . .”

“And made assumptions about what we’ve been doing?” he injected.

“Got it in one,” you said. “I can see why Foggy pays you the big bucks.”

Matt chuckled, his body losing some of the tension. “Doesn’t it bother you? That she is talking about you like that?”

“A little,” you answered. “But I’m used to Mrs. Dudley thinking badly of me.”

“Why? You’re wonderful,” he objected.

“Flatterer,” you said, feeling your heart flutter at the sheer outrage in his voice. “Part of it is that she has meet Jo . . .”

“Who is Jo?” he interrupted.

“My best friend,” you answered. “She’s an investigative reporter for The Bulletin.”

“Joanna Meyer? Karen has mentioned her – said she wasn’t afraid to express her mind.”

You smiled. “That’s Jo. Like Mrs. Dudley, Jo also has very strong opinions about sex. Her opinion that as long as all parties involved are freely consenting adults, they can have as much sex as they want. In the world according to Jo, slut is a compliment.”

“I can see how she and Mrs. Dudley might clash.”

You nodded and then added, “And then shortly after I got him, Houdini dug up all of her petunias and used the pot as a litter box.”

The made Matt laugh. You giggled. It was funny now. It hadn’t been funny at the time. Again, the laughter eased your nerves. After you both got your amusement under control, Matt offered his hand again. This time your hand didn’t shake even a little bit when you slide your hand into his.

“So,” you said as you exited the building. “Which way are we going?”

He grinned as he turned you to head down the street and said, “The sighted being guide by the blind? That’s a switch.”

“I could take over guiding,” you said, pretending to be thoughtful. “Provided you are fine with ending up somewhere unexpected.”

“Oh? Like where?” he asked, playing along.

“Queens.”

He laughed, then asked, “How in the world would we end up all the way in Queens?”

You shrugged, feeling your face get a little warm with mild embarrassment. Then said, “You are underestimating my ability to get lost. I’ve gotten lost several times trying to navigating this city.”

“And found yourself in Queens?”

“Sometimes,” you said. “Learned that Spider-Man will give you directions if you ever find yourself lost in Queens.”

“Good to know,” Matt said, shaking his head with an amused little smile as the pair of you went around a corner. “But I seldom get lost enough to wind up in Queens by accident.”

“Know the streets like the back of your hand, do you?” You asked.

“Yes,” he said. “Especially these streets. I’ve lived in Hell’s Kitchen nearly all of my life.”

“Is that why you set up shop here?” you asked.

He nodded, his face very serious. “Hell’s Kitchen isn’t perfect but it’s home. There are good people here that need someone in their corner.”

You had figured previously that Matt had to have a strong connection to this neighborhood in particular in order to appoint himself as its guardian angel. Or guardian devil, you supposed he would say. Personally, you thought angel was just as apt. Biblical angels, after all, were rather fearsome things.

“What about you? Where’s your hometown?” he asked.

“Don’t really have one,” you said. “I was born on the west coast but we moved around a lot.”

“Why?”

“My dad was in the military until I was in high school,” you explained. “When he retired, we moved to Florida because my mom is from there and she wanted to live closer to her sisters.”

Matt gave a little hum of understanding, then you walked in comfortable silence for a couple of minutes before he spoke again, “We’re almost there. Allergi, on your right.”

You looked ahead and scanned the signs until you saw the one that had Allergi Italian Restaurant in cream white raised letters against a scarlet red background. It hung above a door painted in the same shade of red with cream accents between large windows. As you approached the door, your nose was filled with the warm scent of garlic, tomatoes, and herbs. You could see a few patrons through the windows and they looked like they were enjoying themselves.

Matt tried to let go of your hand when you got to the door but you squeezed his hand, unwilling to let his hand go yet. You opened the door for both of you. The rich smell of food was stronger now and it made your mouth water. The gentle murmur of conversation and soft laughter filled your ears as you walked together toward the podium.

The dark brown eyes of the teenage girl manning the podium lit up when she saw Matt and called out, “Nonna! Mr. Murdock is here!”

A woman appeared in the entrance to what you assumed was the kitchen. The wide smile that spread across her face was identical to the one on the teenager – you could tell they were related. She walked over as fast as her age allowed, throwing her arms around Matt once she got in range.

“Matteo, how lovely to see you again,” she said warmly.

“Hello, Mrs. Allergi,” he greeted, an equally warm smile on his face.

“Nonna, Matteo, call me Nonna,” she gently scolded him. “How many times do I have tell you?”

“At least once more, Mrs. Allergi,” he said, then introduced you.

“Welcome to Allergi’s, my dear,” she said. “Come, let me show you to your table.”

As you were lead to a small table, you took a quick look around. The walls were painted the same cream white as the outside sign and were decorated with lovely citiscapes framed in dark wood. You immediately recognized the ones of New York but you thought some of the others were Rome, Florence, Naples, and Venice. Some of the architecture of those cities was pretty distinctive. The same dark wood was repeated in the square tables and chairs arrayed around the restaurant. The cushions lined the seats of the chairs also echoed the sign as they were the same shade of scarlet red.

When you were seated at the table, the teenager set down a set of silverware wrapped in a red napkin, quietly making sure that Matt knew where she had sat down his silverware. She handed you both a menu before bouncing off to get you both some ice water to start off with. You wondered if you were ever that peppy when you were her age.

Mrs. Allergi returned to the kitchen after chiding Matt for missing Mass so often, her light tone making it clear that she was teasing him rather than actually lecturing him for not coming to church.

“So I assume you know the Allergis?” you said as you opened your menu.

“Pretty obvious?” he said, smiling.

“Just a little bit.”

“My dad was working as busboy for them as one of his part-time jobs when my accident happened. They were one of the few places that didn’t fire him for taking so much time off. They couldn’t take me in after . . . after . . . but Mrs. Allergi always asked how I was doing after Mass while I lived at St. Agnes. Then a couple of years ago, they ran into a little legal trouble . . .”

“My brother Eddy got arrested for robbery and murder,” the teenager interjected as she sat down your glasses and filled them with ice water. “Mr. Murdock saved him from Rikers.”

“I didn’t do anything special, Lucy,” Matt said. “The DA had no case . . .”

“Mr. Murdock saved him,” Lucy repeated with stars in her eyes. And a blush across her cheeks. You realized that this wasn’t just hero worship, she probably had a crush on Matt. “The public defender wanted him to take a deal . . .”

“Lucy!” Mrs. Allergi shouted from the entrance of the kitchen, beckoning to the girl.

The girl sighed, pouted a little, then called back, “Coming Nonna! Good night, Mr. Murdock.”

“Good night, Lucy,” Matt said as the girl turned and left.

“She has a crush on you,” you said in a low voice.

“I know,” he said, in an equally quiet voice. “She’ll move onto someone else sooner or later. In the meantime, I’m treating her like Candace.”

“Candace?” You asked.

“Foggy’s little sister.”

You made a humming sound of acknowledge, turning your attention to the menu. A lot of the dishes seemed to have two versions – Italian American and traditional Italian. In the end you decided to order the traditional version of fettuccine Alfredo as you had never had that version before and was curious. And it didn’t sound like something that would sent you into a food coma.

Because as much as you enjoyed literally sleeping with Matt, you were kinda of hoping to do more tonight.

You decided to opt for tea instead of any of the wines on offer for similar reasons. You didn’t want to be drowsy or Matt worrying about if you were actually saying yes to sex or it was just the wine talking . . .

Matt ordered the lasagna. While you waited for your meals, he entertained you with the story of how he first meet Foggy at Columbia. Which had you giggling. And also sympathizing with Foggy since you had a frequent bouts of no-filter-between-the-brain-and-the-mouth disease around Matt too.

Both dishes looked and smelled wonderful when they arrived at your table. While you couldn’t speak for Matt’s dish, your meal tasted even better than it smelled. Rich enough to practically melt in your mouth without being heavy. You might have gushed a little to Mrs. Allergi when she swung by the table to see how things were going. Which you think pleased her and she promised to pass the compliments onto her son Antonio who apparently helped with the.

Matt had this little smile on his face throughout the entire exchange and when Mrs. Allergi had left, all he said was, “You’re adorable.”

You felt your face warm and said, “I think you mean awkward.”

“No,” he said, still wearing that gentle smile. “I meant what I said. You’re adorable.”

“Adorable as someone with spontaneous utterances can be,” you said.

“I enjoy your spontaneous utterances,” he said.

“Why?” you asked. “Curious to know how much of my foot I can fit in my mouth?”

“Not quite,” he said then his smile turned coy. “Through I am curious about something along those lines.”

The warmth in your cheeks grew as your mind immediately went to the fantasies you had about about sucking Matt’s cock. You fought the urge to squirm in your chair as the heat between your legs once again flared to life.

This is a public place, you reminded yourself. There are children present.

You desperately tried to think of something besides sex. Spotting another couple sharing some of cake, you asked, “Do you want desert?”

“Mrs. Allergi always sends me home with tiramisu,” he said. “Would you like to go to my place and share it?”

The invitation was clear. As was the knowledge that you would sharing an entirely different kind of desert.

“Yes.”

Notes

I am already working on the next chapter. Which in my outline is almost entirely smut. I’m hoping to get it done faster than this chapter.

Again I had to make some decisions about general background and family for Reader. I tried to keep it as vague as possible given the circumstances.

Reader makes her pineapple upside down cake in a cast iron skillet because that’s how I was taught how to make them. In my dad’s skillet that is older than I am.

According to some of the legal podcasts I’ve listening to and lawyer blogs I’ve been lurking around, judges sometimes start quoting classic literature as a way of snarking at one of the parties when said party has gotten on their nerves in some fashion. This can be especially snarky when the remark was made in the footnotes.

Some of the veterinary websites I went said that daisies, among other flowers, are toxic to cats but that asters were safe. I’m not a vet so I cannot verify that one way or another. Besides asters are pretty.

The mustard thing was inspired by a photo of Charlie Cox at a recent con where he’s wearing a mustard-colored shirt . . . and well, I cannot say that Charlie looks terrible because he never looks terrible and maybe it’s the lighting but judging by those pictures, mustard isn’t his color.

Not kidding about the angels. The actual descriptions of them, especially in the Book of Enoch, are pretty wild . . . there is a good reason that their opening line is usually “Fear not.”

It is my understanding that nonna means grandmother in Italian but feel free to correct me.

Reader recognizing some of the Italian architecture is an artifact of my love for art.

I decided that Foggy gets to have both his TV show sibling of Theo and his comic book sibling of Candace.

The original fettuccine Alfredo did use the cream sauce found in the Italian-American version. From what I could find out, the original is the noodles cooked in butter and herbs, then tossed with freshly grated Parmesan cheese just before serving.

#daredevil #fan fic #the alley cat series #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #ao3 link

[orange-imagines]

What about the silly chaos of a baking competition? It could be April, Donnie and the reader vs Leo, Ralph and Mikey. Oh! And Splinter could be the judge. Of course everyone’s gonna get competitive and try to sabotage the other team, stealing ingredients and such.

A/N: Oh this is actually a super fun concept I love this

Character(s): Raph, Leo, Mikey, Donnie, April, Splinter

Relationship: Platonic

First off, April is actually a pretty good baker. Donnie...is not. So you’ve got a good balance going on here, it just depends on what level your own baking skill are at

The odds were a bit stacked against you to begin with, given that Mikey is on the other team (everyone drew straws, but Donnie is convinced that Raph and Leo somehow cheated to get Mikey with them)

Thankfully, Raph isn’t too great of a baker either, and Leo is honestly a complete wild card when it comes to the kitchen, so you three still have a fighting chance

You make three of the classics: cookies, cupcakes, and cake. (definitely not just because Splinter was hungry. This whole competition totally wasn’t a well-constructed ruse to get all of you to make food for him. How could you ever assume that) 

Donnie loves to pretend he isn’t terrible in the kitchen (“I’m a scientist! Baking is just food science!”), but after he managed to turn your team’s cupcakes into black crisps in the oven, you and April put him on sabotage duty, which he is frighteningly good at 

His tech certainly gives him a leg up when it comes to stealing things from right under your opponents’ noses, and all the backlash gets directed at him and distracts the other team so you and April can pull ahead. It’s a surprisingly effective system 

It’s mostly a competition between you and April vs. Mikey. He’s the one pulling most of his team’s weight, after all. Raph will get him all his ingredients, and once in a blue moon Leo will agree to put half his ass into mixing the batter instead of just standing there and smack talking your team, but Mikey is busting out all his well-honed baking skills for this and it’s a little intimidating 

April ends up getting equally competitive. Not that you and the other turtles aren’t, it’s just that her and Mikey’s passion and determination kind of drowns out everything else, to the point where the rest of you guys just wind up doing whatever they say because, alright, you actually really want to see your respective team win this thing 

Donnie and Leo might have gotten into a physical fight once or twice. You and April are used to it, so you just kind of worked around them while they caused a ruckus on your side of the kitchen

In the end, you all wind up with several trays of baked goods ranging drastically in quality, and Splinter is more than happy to judge everything like he’s a professional food critic, but really it’s just a half-hour montage of him stuffing his face and forgetting that he’s actually supposed to be judging while the rest of you wait in anticipation 

“So who won?!”  “Huh? Oh, yes, yes, right. Uh...it was a tie. You’re all very good”  “WHAT-” 

Yeah no way you’re sticking with that verdict, so you all hunker down and chow down on the rest of your treats. It takes about as long as the competition itself, but eventually you decide on a few winners

Mikey’s team won on cupcakes, because of Donnie’s slip up that required you and April to have to re-make them from scratch and running out of time

Your team won on cookies, because Donnie sabotaged the other team’s batter when Leo was supposed to be watching the bowl 

And...the final test...it was a close call...but your team’s cake actually pulled through! Originally you all agreed to settle on Mikey’s cake as the winner (because it was good as hell), up until Donnie found a tiny eggshell in his slice and made such a big deal out of it that the other team agreed to hand you guys the win (the shell was Raph’s fault, but he’s definitely not gonna admit that anytime soon) 

But yeah, you guys gloat about that victory for days, and, as a result, get to eat all the rest of the baked goods while Raph, Leo and Mikey are stuck on dishwashing duty. You, April and Donnie all end up with huge stomach aches afterward, but sometimes that’s just a price you're willing to pay for victory  

#rottmnt x reader #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles x reader #rottmnt imagines #this made me wanna watch bake off ngl #baking competitions captivate me in such a strange way asldkjfh #also apologies if this is paced weird I'm a lil rusty