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farfromstrange · 9 months ago

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Fictober Day 1: Baking Cookies

Fictober Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Prompt: Baking Cookies (🌼)

Summary: You convince Matt to bake cookies with you, and it’s a rather… domestic scene.

Warnings: Tooth-rotting fluff. That’s it. That’s the post.

Word Count: 1.6k

A/n: Day 1 of Fictober and we’re starting with something sweet! The -ber months always get me in the mood for cookies, especially chai tea or matcha cookies, so that’s what inspired me. Who wouldn’t want to bake cookies with Matt on a cold and rainy day? I know I would. If you want to be tagged for all fics of this event, let me know. Other than that, I am using my respective fluff and smut tag lists that I use for just about everything I write. But if you want to be tagged for both and aren't already on my tag list, feel free to tell me in the comments! Now, I’m so happy we all get to do another October together, and I can’t wait for you to see what I’ve got cooking for you! May you all come out of this sufficiently satisfied.

Read Me On AO3!

The streets of New York are bathed in a disarray of colors as dead leaves continue to fall off the half-green trees. Before you knew it, summer had slipped away into a moment in time. The heatwave that had terrorized the city turned colder with the end of September, and then suddenly, October was knocking on your door.

You watch the rain trickle down the kitchen windows. The air smells of roasted cinnamon and coffee beans. The billboard outside shines brighter than the afternoon sun stuck behind a sky of gray, throwing a blanket of dark purple over the apartment, and the radio has been playing the same Beach House song on repeat for the past hour. But as you look over at the love of your life, his rough fingers delicately dancing over the label on the sugar jar to figure out what’s inside, there is no doubt in your mind that this is where you belong.

Matt is wearing the maroon sweater you knitted for him last Christmas. Once the seasons start changing, he pulls it out of the closet like he couldn’t wait to wear it again. Your hands crafted something for him to wear so he wouldn’t have to suffer through the cold anymore; there are not enough words in the English language to describe how much that means to him, but you know. You always know.

He looks almost content, standing there with his hair tousled, glasses discarded somewhere in the living room, and a faint smile on his lips. His brown eyes are so soft they remind you of the hazelnut coffee you shared before you suggested, “You want to bake some cookies?”

Much to your surprise, Matt didn’t argue. You expected him to tell you that it’s not Christmas yet, and you were prepared to tell him that cookies don’t need a specific season to be baked. But his face lit up as soon as the words had left your mouth, and he was more than eager to spend the rest of the afternoon in the kitchen with you.

“How much sugar do we need?” he asks.

You look down at the handwritten chai cookie recipe he picked out. “Uh, half a cup,” you say.

He nods, eyebrows furrowing in utmost concentration as his hands feel around the countertop for the measuring cups. You gently place your hand over yours and guide it to the cold plastic.

His smile widens. “Thank you.”

You look at him like he’s the only man in the world, and to you, he is. It’s not often the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen lets someone into his heart, you learned, but you only fell harder for him when he finally did. He’s beautiful and not at all perfect, but he is all you want.

“Sugar?” Matt snaps you out of your thoughts.

“Right,” you murmur. “Half a cup.”

He can probably hear your heart racing, hammering against your ribcage. You guide your joined hands into the sugar, filling it only half before moving over to the bowl with the other dry ingredients. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t even comment on how flustered you are, he just holds on tightly to your hands as though he is afraid you might slip away if he doesn’t.

It is a different kind of intimacy that’s almost sensual, bodies brushing as you get a whisk to mix it all together, your hand over his and the rain pattering against the window in tune with the radio.

The cinnamon and the chai tea mix with the faint note of Matt’s cologne on your body, on his shirt, and the scent is unlike anything you could possibly describe. You find yourself leaning closer, impossibly closer, barely stirring anymore. He’s home. He’s your home.

“Is this part of the recipe?” Matt murmurs.

You hum. “This step is called stirring the batter.”

He smiles against your temple. “Mh. I like this step.”

“Me too.”

One of his hands slips from yours and comes to rest around your waist, swaying you to the music. You wouldn’t dare break this magic.

“Is there a step called ‘Kiss my future Mrs. Murdock’?” he asks then.

Blood rushes to your head. You’re so fucking happy. A giggle slips past your lips. “I think that’s the next step,” you say.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He bridges the gap between you like a man starved, capturing your lips in a searing kiss that knocks the air right out of your fragile lungs. His hand tugs you just a little closer. You belong to me, the action screams. And while you would never allow yourself to be considered someone’s property, it is nice to be wanted. To be needed. To be desired like you are the only thing on his mind, and treated right. Because you deserve it.

After a moment, he pulls away. His unfocused eyes roam your face, but you know he is only listening to your heartbeat, smelling you, feeling you—that’s how he sees you.

“What’s next?” he asks softly.

You peek down at the batter, then look back at him. Your mind is still reeling from the kiss, but you manage to pull yourself together enough to say, “Wet ingredients.”

“Oh?”

“Not like that, you pervert!”

Matt chuckles, throwing his hands up in surrender. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You were thinking about it.” You swat his chest. “I wanted to bake cookies, so let’s bake some damn cookies.”

If you don’t pull away now, you’re sure you won’t get anywhere tonight.

“Is that what we’re doing?” he teases.

You nod. “That’s what we’re doing.”

He takes whatever you give him, and does whatever you tell him to until the cookies are finally in the oven. He doesn’t waste another second before pulling you back into his arms.

“Hi,” he says.

You smile back at him. “Hi to you, too.”

“You forgot this…” You watch as he reaches into his pocket to pull out a ring—your ring.

It was only natural for him to ask you to marry him. He’d been waiting an eternity to do so. No one knows him like you do. No one sees him like you do, and no one loves him quite like you. You’ve seen him at his best and his worst, and you love him not despite but regardless of all of his demons. He doesn’t know what he did to ever deserve you. Quite frankly, he’s not sure he will ever be worthy, but he’d be damned if he didn’t at least try.

Matt had gotten so used to people walking out on him before you came along that he truly believed he was beyond redemption. Beyond saving. But then you tore open the manifest of his soul, read all the pages, and you gave him your heart anyway. He has not let a day go by where he hasn’t at least tried to do right by you. To take care of you. To love you. To carry you in his very hands like the fucking ethereal being that you are. He’s so scared of losing you, he sometimes loses sight of what he wants just to make you happy, but it’s worth seeing the smile on your face when he brings you flowers he thinks smell like you, or when he gets dinner from your favorite restaurant to surprise you after a long day at work.

Matt’s only purpose in life is to make you happy because he knows you give him the world in return, a kind of love he never thought he would get to experience. It’s unconditional, it’s deep, and at times, it hurts, but he’s learning what it is like to appreciate the life he was given.

He would steal the stars for you if you wanted them. He would die for you, and sometimes he thinks he might even kill for you. Break all of his rules just to make sure you stay unharmed. He would go up against God, even, if it meant you wouldn’t have to suffer. He would not survive losing you, and sometimes, that scares him.

It has been a long road for him, and at times it felt like he was carrying a wooden cross on his back like Jesus did, but all the suffering eventually led to a sense of peace. He learned how to love again—to love you. After Elektra, after putting Fisk away, after everything, he allowed himself to settle down. And he knew shortly after he met you that he was going to marry you.

You wrap your hand around the ring in his hand, and he gasps softly as he returns to reality. “Didn’t want it to get dirty,” you whisper.

Matt slips it on your finger, and it feels again like the first time he did it. “I know. I kept it safe for you,” he says. A pause, and then, “I love you… Mrs. Murdock.”

He will never tire of saying it. Not even when you’re old and gray and you can’t remember where you put your godforsaken glasses.

You wrap your arms around his neck. “I love you, Mr. Murdock. And I can’t wait to marry you.”

The honesty in your voice overwhelms him. “You mean that?”

“With all my heart,” you promise.

The words take a second to seep in, to withstand the doubts that are always raging inside of him, but then he pulls you in, and he kisses you again. He kisses you like his life depends on it, the delicious smell of chai tea cookies filling the air, and it’s the safest you know you are ever going to be—here, with him, and in his arms.

@ebathory997 @the-b33skn33s @scoliobean @drmeghanjones @lanae111 @gpenguin666 @linamarr @itwasthereaminuteago @norestfortheshelbywicked @yarrystyleeza @littlenerdyravenclaw @etanordoesbullsh1t @thychuvaluswife @harleycao @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch @sya-skies @thatonegamefish @amberritonicole @pigeonmama @bohemianrhapsody86 @a-gir1-has-n0-name @winkev1 @callsign-ember @chittaphonstar @buckyyyismahhlife @trublu2u @xnatyx @zomtart @ethereal-blaze @littleagxs @lucienofthelakes

#lizzi's fictober 2024 #matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #daredevil #daredevil x reader #matt murdock fluff #flufftober #charlie cox

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bobbertskeetz · 1 year ago

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𝙖𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙖𝙜𝙖𝙞𝙣 (𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮) 𝙨.𝙧 𝙭 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

Summary: Months ago, she appeared almost seemingly out of thin air; and Spencer couldn't figure out how exactly he'd struck the jackpot of life. A life in which he truly believed himself destined to remain alone.

Themes/Warnings: friends to lovers, slight angst but mostly fluff, no warnings that i'm aware of but feel free to let me know any different!

𝙄 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙚𝙙 𝙢𝙮𝙨𝙚𝙡𝙛 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙩 𝙢𝙮𝙨𝙚𝙡𝙛 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙫𝙞𝙨𝙞𝙩 𝙖 𝙣𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙗𝙮 𝙩𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙧...

The soft hum of the radio floated out amongst the bullpen, eminating from a young Spencer Reid's desk. He was going to smash it to smithereens. The radio played the same station every day, and has done so for many years. However, recently the station had taken to playing the one song he never wanted to hear again. It was as if the DJ was trying to make him feel as though he was the smallest man alive.

Spencer hated that fucking song. Yet, he embraced it. Perhaps it was an indulgence of self-pity. Or, better yet, a form of punishment for allowing himself to end up caught in an endless cycle of loneliness. After all, Morgan said so himself, Reid could never get a date. His connection with Lyla hadn't had the chance to flourish, if it was even a true connection, and he was in fact, alone again...naturally.

He could've left long ago, seeing as though Hotch had been kind enough to grant the team an hour early off of the work day. But, why would he? No one was waiting for him. No one aside from his cold sofa and empty bed, the two physical embodiments of his heavy heart. Why go home and wallow in solitude, when he could wallow in the company of an empty bullpen, knowing that Hotch was above him in his office. At least, he thought, I'm not the only recluse in Quantico. Despite this conclusion, Spencer failed to find any solace in the knowledge that he is not alone in owning a troubled soul. Once the song ended after an obnoxiously peaceful tune, which entirely juxtaposed the soul crushing lyrics; Spencer reached for his satchel and sulked his way through the glass double doors. Heading home, alone again, naturally.

The clock struck ten, and the light from the TV screen was the only form of illumination Spencer's living room would receive. Doctor Who had been paused for quite a while as he had taken to calling Garcia requesting information on a fan theory online, which he so desperately wanted to debunk. After countless minutes of begging Penelope to read him out the theories she had found, Spencer finally gave up and agreed to her terms and conditions: "chai latte on my desk tomorrow morning, and your theories will be bestowed upon Doctor You!" He was convinced the universe was out to get him.

With a sigh, Spencer dropped his phone in defeat after hanging up the line. Just as he reached for the remote to resume his marathon, a light knocking echoed through the apartment. With a swift glance out the window, checking for unusual vehicles or sketchy characters loitering on the outskirts of his building, Spencer was only met with an empty street and the pounding rain. He rose from his seat and padded over to the peep hole. No one ever paid him visits, he always ventured to other people instead; there was no logical explanation as to why there was a knock on his door this late into the evening.

Carefully, Spencer ducked to examine the peep hole, and he finally released the breath he hadn't realised he was holding. Within seconds, the lock flicked and the panelled door swung open, welcoming a sight for sore eyes.

There you stood, soaked to the bone. Your hair darkened and damp from the torrential storm blowing outside, and your nose red and glistening from the chilly wind. Despite it all, Spencer couldn't help but notice your radiance after all this time apart. It wasn't as though you both didn't care to see each other, it's just, well... life gets carried away. Jobs have a funny way of tearing people apart, and in your case, your jobs tore you both apart for around six months. It is for this exact reason as to why Spencer immediately feels the need to question your sudden appearance on his door step, especially considering the typhoon blowing outside.

"I need a phone." Was your answer, and he didn't miss the gentle quiver of your lip and waver to your voice, unusually smaller than he remembered. With his signature tight-lipped, kind smile, Spencer lead you to the sofa, removing you of your drenched trench coat and handing over his phone. Before you managed to utter any apologies for the intrusion, Spencer had already left the room, preparing a mug of piping hot coffee to aid your chills.

Upon his return, Spencer felt the need to break the silence, "Consuming at least 400mg of caffeine up to as long as six hours prior to sleeping can significantly disrupt your nights sleep." You gratefully took the mug with a content sigh, slipping a small 'thank you' through your chapped lips, before meeting his gaze with an answer.

"And yet, I'm such a mess you're willing to disrupt my sleep schedule." For a second, he panicked, fearing he'd truly offended you.

"N-No! No, absolutely not yo- Oh. Joking, you're joking.. well in that case yes you look insane." The twinkle in your eye had given you away.

"Yes, joking. Despite this definitely being one of the top ten shittiest nights of my life Spence, trust I will never lose my humour."

He breathed a small chuckle and nodded in agreement, silently glad you'd continue your good natured spirit, even after enduring the embarrassment of being stood up only hours earlier. You rang for a cab using Spencer's phone, and then proceeded to enlighten him of your evening from Hell. This guy had left you waiting for an hour and a half while ignoring your calls, your phone then deciding to die and the Heavens burst open, which completely soaked you through.

However, regardless of how you turned up on his door step, Spencer couldn't find it in him to feel regretful for you. Was it selfish? Of course, but, these events brought you to him. And little did you both know, in many years to come, you would be eternally grateful to the sleezy prick who left you in downtown Virginia after all.

As a man of science, a man of reason, even Spencer was struggling to rationalise the sudden shift in the universe. It was as if the two of you were slowly gravitating closer and closer over the following months.

You were every where. Every. Where.

After that fateful night, Spencer felt as though his feelings for you had completely changed. You were no longer only his friend he occasionally met once every blue moon. You were now, his friend who made him blush with every small wave from across the street. His friend who managed to unknowingly catch his eye. His friend who had recently found more and more excuses to pay his apartment a visit, and more and more reasons to remain in contact when he had to travel for cases.

You were here to stay. And in no world would Spencer ever be upset about that fact. So much so, he was adament to keep you in his world indefinitely.

After hours of watching old movies in his apartment, Spencer paused the TV and shifted closer to you on the sofa. In a tired haze, you lifted your head to meet his eyes, and smiled a gentle smile. One which he gladly returned.

Swallowing the lump building in the back of his throat, and supressing all self-doubt, Spencer parted his lips. "I have something for you." "For me?" You straightened your posture and faced him fully, intrigued by this information. The subtle fear and anxiety which washed over his face did not go unnoticed by you, and your interest was piqued once and for all. Why was he so skiddish?

Spencer reached behind him, retrieving a small purple bag from the side table, and held it out to you. Gleefully, you accepted the little token, proposing your theories as to what it may be; to which Spencer replied, "Open it and you'll see!" And you did.

The bag revealed a dainty gold ring, with a heart enclosed in two hands, adorned with a small crown on top. A pinky ring. It took your breath away on sight.

"A Claddagh. The tradition originated in the 17th century in a village near Galway- it- it itself is named Claddagh. The ring symbolises that love and friendship s-should reign supreme, however, the tradition rapidly evolved into giving the ring as a gift to someone you wished to court-"

"Spencer?"

Automatically, his nerves produced an immediate response; "Yeah?!"

You didn't want to cut him off as you loved to hear out his info-dumps. However, you could tell he was spiralling, with each word he spoke the fear grew deeper in the form of creased eyebrows. And if he didn't get to the point soon, the point you hoped he was beating around the bush to, you thought you would explode.

Your words expressed themselves in a small whisper, "Are you asking me out?"

His heart sunk, yet he couldn't lie to you. Despite working as one of Quantico's most prolific profilers, Spencer managed to mistake your awe laced voice for pity. He was to be alone again, he knew it. You were too good to be true.

Somehow, his voice was even smaller than how he felt in that moment, "Yes..."

Of all the reactions Spencer anticipated, he never once guessed you would jump into him on his sofa, entangling your bodies together in a tight hug, and a loving one at that. With your face buried in the crook of his neck, he heard your muffled excitement rise with each breath, "What hand do I wear it on?!"

Shock radiated from Spencer's core.

For years, he had grown accustomed to returning to a cold, empty and often messy apartment after cases. Nothing could prepare him for the sight he'd see once he walked through the door.

The dishes he'd left by the sink four days ago were neatly stacked in the cupboard. The lamp he'd accidentally left on in his room was switched off at the plug. The place was like a showroom, if a showroom had endless amounts of encyclopedia's stacked neatly by the TV, and a pretty girl curled up in his armchair.

There you lay in his navy sweater with nothing else asides from your black underwear. Your bare legs were folded into your chest, with your hand supporting your heavy head. He grinned once he noticed the golden glint of the band wrapped around your pinky.

Quietly, so as not to startle you from your dozing state, Spencer ventured across the room, softly setting his satchel by the sofa. When in front of you, he dropped to your level, bringing his hand up to push a strand of hair away from your eyes, and planted a gentle kiss to your nose. His grin only widened when your eyes peeled open, and a little groan escaped your lips.

"Your nose is cold y'know."

Another groan met his ears, followed by a soft pinch to his cheek. Your own way of greeting him after four long days apart, too tired to speak yet.

Spencer peppered your face in feather-like pecks, before bundling you up in his arms, escorting you to his bed - desperate to warm you up. Once he'd laid you out underneath the covers, Spencer quickly readied himself to join you before you drifted off again.

Sliding under the covers, he got comfy in your embrace, feeling like a schoolboy with you attached to his hip. His mind began to wander, and he could not for the life of him understand how he had gotten so lucky. Spencer had accepted his unfortunate destiny of solitude, finally coming to terms with the overwhelming loneliness felt in his day to day life - and there you were. Like an angel. His angel. And despite his aversion to fate, he forever thanked whatever higher power brought you to him when they did.

With a final kiss to your hairline, he wished you a goodnight, angel and turned out the light.

As usual, the radio hummed a quiet tune throughout the almost empty bullpen. Two more files and he could go home. Two more he told himself.

"Night, Lover boy. Happy anniversary."

Waving goodbye to Morgan, Spencer hurried to finish the remaining paperwork, desperate to get home to you. He had it all planned, a bunch of flowers sat next to him on the desk, ready to be delievered to you with a card, asking you to officially move in.

He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he almost missed the familiar tune of his arch nemesis. In all honesty, he didn't even recognise it at first, it had been so long since the station had last played it.

𝙄𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙤𝙛 𝙣𝙚𝙚𝙙, 𝙄 𝙩𝙧𝙪𝙡𝙮 𝙖𝙢 𝙞𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙚𝙙… 𝙖𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙖𝙜𝙖𝙞𝙣, 𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮.

For once, his blood didn't boil. His stomach didn't sink. There was calm. Gilbert O'Sullivan, he couldn't faze him now. Because, Spencer finally didn't have a single aspect of his life to relate to that soul crushing song. In fact, he never had to worry about it ever again.

He rose from his chair, grabbing the bouqet, ready to start his journey home. But first:

𝙄𝙩 𝙨𝙚𝙚𝙢𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙢𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙨 𝙗𝙧𝙤𝙠𝙚𝙣 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙡𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙖- He turned it off.

Immediately, almost as if you sensed this monumental moment, his phone rang. With a shit-eating grin, he quickly answered with a joy he could never fully express in words, despite having every synonym for happiness memorised.

"Hiya angel, yes... yes, darling I'm on my way... I love you too."

#spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #spencer reid x you #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst

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jaidens · 2 years ago

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If you special requests are still open can I have a hot chai latte with extra whipped cream under name Darrel Curtis? Only if ur ok with that!

So scarlet it was Maroon, The mark they saw on my collarbone

pairing [s] : darry curtis x reader

warning [s] : mentions of : sex, hickeys, drinking, riding, making out | wrap it before you tap it |

a/n [s] : ty for requesting, I'm sorry for how long it took!

It has almost been a month without your fiance. Darry had been booked for every single day, and suddenly nurses had become extremely needed everyday for your hospital. You were riled up and upset that your shifts hadn't matched up with Darry's which ended up in only seeing him passing in and out of the house. You were the night shift, and Darry had been the morning shift. You took care of the gang when Darry couldn't, becoming the casual mom of the group when you were around.

As you shift the small ring around your finger, tapping against the table as the clock clicks closer to your shift ending. As soon as it hits twelve, you jump up, grabbing your bag and Darry's jacket and run out of the hospital while saying goodbye to your coworkers. The air is cold as it nips at your nose. You open your car door and turn the car on, the cold air hitting you as it attempts to start up with a rumble. The radio plays quietly as you start to feel giddy at being able to see your boyfriend after a month.

The car ride isn't long, but not very short. After twenty-five minutes of no traffic and long, twisting roads, you pull into the driveway of Darry's house. His truck is sitting next to your car, and the lights are still on the inside of the house. Grabbing your stuff, you run into the house and shut the door quietly behind you. Two-Bit and Steve are asleep on the couch, snoring as Mickey Mouse is playing on the television.

You smile at them, shutting off the television and lights. You walk to the kitchen, hang up your keys on the hook, and set your bag down. Your stomach rumbles after hours of being unable to eat due to the rush on the hospital. You pull out some food and heat it up, and bite into it and moan out. Darry’s cooking was always amazing, after years of practicing after the loss of his Mom and Dad. While you're eating, strong arms wrap around your waist and pull you into his hips.

With a gentle kiss to your neck, you smile and twist your body around to be in front of Darry. He's smiling widely, his tongue darting out to like his lips. “Oh, Darry..” You mumble out and he pushes you against the counter and his hand falls underneath your thighs as you follow his movements with your lips. Your hand runs up his shoulders and to the back of his head and you grip onto his messy, ungreased hair. He smells like aftershave and his minty shampoo and conditioner.

You're mumbling out his name every time he pulls away from your lips to let you breathe. “Not here, love. Bedroom c’mon!” You're whisper-shouting, as he picks you up off the counter and carries your bridal style to your small, shared bedroom. The bed is messy and fluffy with blankets as you try and beat the November weather that was attacking Tulsa. The television is on and plays a random show that Darry had liked, but you didn't understand it half of the time.

You crawl onto the bed and pull on the waistband of his pants and he falls on the bed on top of you, not crushing you with his thighs taking his fall. You're wrapped up in the kiss you've been waiting for, deep and full of delicious passion. His lips slide from your mouth to suck against your neck, kissing and biting gently. His name is a prayer as it falls from your lips as you slide against him, his hand tickling against your waistband.

You pull his shirt off and throw it on the floor, staring at his delicious muscles and abs that stretch and pull in every time you touch his warm skin. “Missed you so much.” Darry gasps when you pull him up and push against the wall.

—

When you wake up the next morning, your legs are sore and your back achy. The bed is cold and alone with Darry's side is put together and cleaned up. Your side however isn't as you get up from bed. You're in a big t-shirt of Darry's with a pair of underwear. You grab a pair of shorts and put them on. You stretch out your body and crack your hands. You fix up the bed and straighten out the sheets and fix up your hair. You put your slippers and rub your eyes. When you look at the mirror, you see all of the purplish and dusty pink bruises that litter your neck and down to your collarbone.

You grab a big hoodie and pull it on and it covers most of them up, but it would be impossible to cover all of them. You open the door to leave and you hear the boys that are somehow rowdy at eight-thirty in the morning. Two-Bit and Steve are ones that you can pick out, teasing Darry and Ponyboy about something you couldn't hear. You walk into the kitchen and you feel people's eyes on you. “Well! Well, how-dy here!” Two-Bit teases and taps against the maroon bruise that's underneath your jaw. “What’s that lil ol’ thing, Y/N!?”

You cover your neck and start to get embarrassed. Darry immediately pulls into protective mode and pulls you into his arms. You smile at him and he kisses the top of your head. You're forced to follow him around to stay in his arms. “Did you fight something last night? What's all over you—oh ew Darry!” Ponyboy says before covering his eyes and gagging. You laugh at him and serve him a plate of food. “Oh hush you too!” Darry shouts when Two-Bit and Pony start to giggle and conspiring about what happened last night.

You kiss Darry and he deepens it softly. “I’m off work today. Charles was being nice by not scheduling me.” You tell Darry and he smiles at you, letting his hands naturally wrap around your waist. You lay against his chest as you both fall into a natural sway. One thing about Darry is he didn't have two of the same feet, he was an amazing dancer and naturally would always be moving gracefully somehow.

You're both lying like that until Ponyboy says he's ready for school. You smile at Darry and hand him the truck keys, giving him a long kiss and twirling the curls around his neck on your finger as he walks out the door. You're smiling at the door when you hear the sound of the refrigerator opening, clicking of glasses, and two pops. “Really Two-Bit!? Beer at nine in the morning?”

“Hey young-lady! We both had fun, you got it earlier than I did. Now, let me enjoy this!”

#darry curtis x y/n #darrel curtis x reader #darry curtis the outsiders #darry curtis x reader #darry curtis #darrel curtis #darry curtis x you #🍂 — 350 follower celebrations — daniellarussoo #the outsiders fanfiction #the outsiders fanfic #the outsiders x reader #darry curtis x fem!reader

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littlebluentebook · 1 year ago

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Alastor x Sewing!Reader Pt.5

Chapter 6

"Alastor were you alright?" you asked The night was still awfully early compared to the last week you were there.

"I am alright darling, just feeling a little under the weather is all." Alastor was quick on his feet to come up with an excuse.

You were very shaken up after the dance and he wanted to get you away as soon as possible. In addition, many other men were looking a you.He felt protective of you in a way. Anyone who looked at you lustfully had a reserved daydream in Alastor's mind of being torn to shreds. Alastor wanted you to be all his. It was a silly thought and a foreign concept to him. He liked how kind you were and how you acted towards him.The pleasant conversations were an added bonus. He felt as though everything between you two was so natural and he could slightly let his guard down near you. Of course, he wouldn't utter a word about his jealousy being the reason the night ended short in case it upset you.

"oh goodness! When we get to my home I'll have to give you some medicine and tea!"

You were worried about your friend. What if he had gotten a cold from walking you home last week? The least you could do was ward it off a slight bit. Tonight you had learned your lesson and brought your own jacket so Alastor wouldn't freeze for you.

"Alastor, please come inside and join me for a cup of tea, at least enough to keep you warn on your walk home." You both were standing in the shops entrance. The truth was after your encounter you didn't want to be left alone.

"Hm, just one and I'll be on my way."

Inside the shop Alastor made a note of the flowers on your center table in the middle of the store. You made all the surrounding garments to match. Smiling at this he promised himself he wouldn't forget to give you new flowers at the beginning of the week.

You both walked further into the store to a door Alastor didn't notice before.

"Sorry if it's messy at all, I have had a very busy week and not much time to clean." You knew your home wasn't messy one bit but wanted to break the silence. There wasn't enough time spent there for it to be messy

"You are an awfully busy person Y/N, I think I can excuse it just this once."

You sat Alastor in your small living room, joining him after the kettle was on the stove.

He took notice of your home while you were away. It was neat in its own way. Your home definitely reflected that you were a busy person. Random sheets of numbers and sketches sat in a neat pile on the coffee table. There were books sorted by author and series but stacked haphazardly on a book shelf. The room had three windows with a nice view of the city below. He could even see the radio tower from one window.

"Do you have a tea preference?" you asked unsure.

"What do you have?" Alastor had certain tastes but wanted make sure he wasn't asking too much of you. He wanted to revel in your kindness, for it to be all his. Yet, he didn't want to take advantage of you. It was odd because typically he doesn't mind using others for his own gain.

"Green, chai, black, earl..." you rattled off.

"Chai sounds delightful"

"Perfect! Its my favorite."

It worked well for the evening to wind you both down.

"Y/N?" Alastor asked catching your attention, "how do you stay warm? You have no furnace."

"Oh!" the question caught you by surprise. Sometimes you forget that most homes have fireplaces. Your building wasn't originally meant to be a home and therefore didn't have one. "I have plenty of quilts that I stack. Plus, the oven typically warms this whole place up!"

The kettle went off and you got up to steep yours and Alastor's tea. On the way back you brought the tea, honey, sugar and two quilts. You assumed Alastor was cold and that was why he asked about a non existent furnace.

Alastor had asked the question so maybe you would think he was cold and sit close er to him. He absolutely enjoyed the feeling of you on his arm while walking.

You sat the tea, honey, and sugar on the coffee table then handed him one of the quilts you had made. It was a simple pastel blue with hints of floral fabric.

Instead if grabbing the quilt, Alastor reached underneath to grab your hand and gently led you to sit on the loveseat next to him. You both settled under your respective blankets. You reached for you tea, adding 2 cubes of sugar and a spoonful of honey. Alastor however reached for your stationary hand. He held it without a word, acknowledging nothing.

You didn't say anything either. He was such a gentleman to you! There was no point in ruining a friendship with nonsensical words.

Even after your tea was finished you and Alastor continued to talk about the world around you. He appreciated your ability to find beauty in the world and you appreciated how he could hold a meaningful intelligent conversation.

The entire time you both continued to hold hands. No words were mentioned but Alastor would casually make sure you wouldn't forget your hands were intertwined with his. He grabbed your second hand as soon has the tea was finished. He later then rubbed his thumb across your knuckles every once in a while while you were talking. Whenever you got passionate about a topic he would hold them both close together and bring them towards his lips for a light kiss.

By the time the two of you noticed the time, it was far too late for Alastor to walk home. You insisted he spend the night to which he reluctantly agreed. In all honesty he was excited to be spending all the time he could with you.

You ran down the stairs and into your spare room and grabbed a set of pajamas you hadn't sold for him to put on. They were dark red a fleece lined.

"These are the most comfortable clothes I have ever put on Y/N" he was astonished with the quality and comfort.

"Keep them darling!"

You and Alastor played the game of who would sleep where. He was willing to take your love seat but he was a guest, you wouldn't allow it. Additionally, neither of you fit on that seat comfortably.

#alastor x y/n #alastor x you #hazbin alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel 2024 #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbinhotel #hazbin hotel #alastor

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upside-down-uni · 5 months ago

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06.02 // Mini-vacation! I finished a book, found a new one, we enjoyed a very good Chai Latte, had dinner with a friend, and sung our hearts out at a concert. Every concert I think This time I'll take a proper video/take proper pictures....and then I don't because I'm busy losing my shit, so please enjoy the best of like 3 pics I took last night!

currently reading: The Quiet Is Loud The Goblin Emperor - Katherine Addison

soundtrack of the day: 1990something - Sub-Radio

#sunny side up #studyblr #knife gang #journey mo

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absoblume-reblogs · 2 years ago

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wedding preparations [[feat. MugChai!!💙💚]]

lil gift for @whosectype // @ask-chai-and-casino-cups !! I’m in love with her au and these two specifically!

Hope you like it!! This was super fun to make- 🤩✨

The audio is from “Father Knows Best”! [[which is a radio show made around the 1950s! I grew up listening to it so it has a special place in my heart ^^ The episode title is “Wedding Preparations”, if anyone is interested! It is super wholesome and funny, and teaches a lot of valuable and traditional lessons I think people need to learn again <3]]

#whosectype #gift #my art #absoblume reblogs!#absoblume art #mugchai

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mothbaaalls · 4 months ago

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im going to combine this peach white tea and pomegranate green tea to make The Taste

#nonsense radio #i could also put this chai spice mix into it if i wanted to be really evil but i'm not gonna do that #im just gonna mix it in with the rest of my vanilla chai leaves bc i never drink it by itself #context: i got a variety pack of tea samples with a giant bag of vanilla chai like 10yrs ago

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inoreuct · 2 years ago

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tattoo artist hobie/college au pt. 2!!

pt. 1

the Black Widow’s two-storey building was nestled between a café and a music shop, tinted glass windows gleaming in the late afternoon light. a bell dinged when miles stepped in, eyes flicking down to his watch reading 4:58p.m.; he let the door fall shut behind him as he took in the cool concrete floor and the matte black brackets of plants on the foyer wall, leaning his elbow against the front counter.

“hi,” he greeted the receptionist, who gave him an expectant half-smile. “uh, i’ve got a five o’clock with—”

“you’re early.”

miles’s heart did a flip-flop in his chest.

hobie stood on the bottom step of the staircase off to the side, long legs crossed at the ankle with his hands in his plaid pockets. his slouch against the railing was easy as ever, as was his smile; miles looked down at his watch just to give himself a second to recollect, trying not to let his brain stall. 4:59. “barely.”

hobie chuckled, and it made his pearl earring sway; miles’s eyes snapped to the motion like a magnet as hobie turned away, heading back up the stairs. “well, c’mon then.”

the narrow staircase led to the second floor, an open area with a few low couches and a coffee table. there were scones and tea on a tray; chai, by the smell of it, and hobie poured for them both once they sat down opposite each other. his teal converse bumped against miles’s toes as miles took his cup with whispered thanks and had a sip, brows raising.

“good, innit?” hobie murmured over his own, lips curling up the same way his fingers curled around the handle. “gift from a friend, his aunt makes it. help yourself to the scones, yeah?”

miles hummed, swallowing. his eyes flickered from hobie to the table to the wall and back to hobie again; the way he leaned back into the couch, loose-limbed and comfortable, was awfully distracting. miles took a second sip with that dark gaze on his skin, and the silence got louder.

“ay, sorry, i’m—” hobie sat up properly, hand on the back of his neck as he offered a sheepish chuckle. “i’m staring. s’rude of me.”

“nah. depends on why you’re staring.” the words were out of miles’s mouth before he could filter them, and he snapped his mouth shut in mortification.

hobie just laughed, piercings twinkling as he grabbed a buttered scone and bit it in half. “business first, brooklyn boy.”

miles valiantly willed the heat out of his cheeks and sat forward, putting his teacup down to pull his laptop out of his messenger bag. “so how’d you know about me? and my art?”

hobie smirked like he knew something miles didn’t. “school.”

he froze, narrowing his eyes. “...what do you mean, school?”

“we go to the same school.”

“we— wait.” miles knew hobie’s voice sounded familiar. “you’re the guy on our college’s radio station.”

hobie gave him jazz hands, brows lifting with a bemused smile. “the one and only.”

he gave hobie an incredulous look, mouth falling open. “man, i listen to you! how have i never seen you on campus?”

“we’re on opposite ends. i’m majoring in classical music,” hobie replied, grinning wide enough for miles to notice a smiley piercing against his front teeth. “you’ll never guess how i found out about you.”

“…i don’t know if i wanna ask.”

“ya happen to know a certain miss stacy?”

miles goggled. “you know gwen?! i mean, okay, no, gwen knows you?”

the other boy cackled, shoving the remaining half of his scone into his mouth and dusting his hands on his pants. “why’s that such a surprise, huh? we’re in the same block!”

“yeah, but—” miles sputtered, waving his hands about with his laptop forgotten. the way hobie’s eyes crinkled when he laughed was doing funny things to his brain. “you’re cool.”

and hobie really was; he was wearing dark red gloss today, lashes spiked with glittery mascara, a distressed black tank showing through the loose knit of the cream sweater hanging off one shoulder. he had a new ear stack on too, gold and garnet in a delicious contrast against his rich skin, and the tattoos on his forearms moved with him when he settled back against the couch.

“gwendy’s plenty cool,” he countered, playfully arching a pierced brow.

“not after you’ve seen her laugh so hard she shot rice out of her nose,” miles deadpanned, and he reveled in hobie’s wheeze. “but seriously, dude. there is no way in hell i haven’t seen or heard of you before.”

he knew he looked good, or at least decent; he had a solid sense of fashion and a workout routine that was consistent enough, but hobie was electrifying like a spark to your brain stem.

“let’s just say i like to keep it on the down-low.” hobie offered a mirthless chuckle. “a violin prodigy who hates practicin’ and prefers electric guitar, and still has one of the most sought-after scholarships across the board? i ain’t exactly got a fan club, now, bein’ the black sheep and all that.”

miles tongued at the inside of his cheek, fiddling with the charm bracelet on his left wrist. “they’re wrong about you.” hobie’s eyes flickered to him, sharp and intense, and miles shoved down against the way his heart was climbing up his throat.

“ya barely know me.”

“and yet i like you,” he challenged, setting his teeth against the verity. “and i’m not wrong about people very often.”

he watched as hobie’s eyes widened imperceptibly, falling shut as the other boy scrubbed broad palms across his face with a heavy sigh. “bloody— gwendy told me you’d be like this.”

“like what?”

“stubborn,” hobie muttered, peeking at him between two ring-clad fingers, full lips ticking up at the corner. he said the word like a compliment. “she’d warned me, y’know. i suppose just not enough.”

the laugh that slipped from miles’s throat was unplanned, thick like a weighty throw pillow to the chest. “sorry to break it to you, but my best friend is biased,” he said primly, pursing his lips. “also possibly a little bit crazy. and a liar.”

“alright, alright.” hobie’s grin was awry, pulling at his lip ring. it was ridiculously charming. “how ‘bout ya re-introduce yourself on your own terms, then?”

miles cocked his head, pretending to consider before he stuck out a hand. “miles morales. double major in visual arts and graphic design. it’s a pleasure.”

he tried not to shiver when hobie’s fingers wrapped around his, elegant and calloused, warm against his skin like the weight of hobie’s gaze.

“hobie brown. tattoo artist, lead guitarist extraordinaire—” he let go and sat back, dark eyes glittering above a soft smile, “—and i think you’ll find that the pleasure’s all mine.”

miles swallowed, mouth dry. his pulse fluttered.

oh, boy.

fin.

#punkflower #hobie brown #miles morales #across the spiderverse #flowerpunk #atsv #miles x hobie #spiderverse #FLIRTS both of them #the pleasure’s all mine HOBIE PLS

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curemoonliite · 3 months ago

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radio ad in my car on my lunch break: what would you like the power to do?

me, hopped up on overpriced chai lattes without missing a beat: grant me the power to revolutionize the world!

#alexandria rambles #shitpost #revolutionary girl utena #why did my brain auto-respond with an utena ref? bc i'm that obsessed with mg stuff lol #my post

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ghosts-and-blue-sweaters · 1 year ago

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reblog game!!!

last song i listened to: chronically cautious by braden bales! it’s so so catchy, and despite listening to it over and over and over again, i never seem to get tired of it <3 i also personally believe that the lyrics are Hekkin Nice! a well-written breath of fresh air compared to most songs on the radio.

currently watching: star wars the bad batch!!! the finale comes out on wednesday and it’s… bittersweet :’) i’ve been watching this show for three years now. it’s gonna be so strange when it ends. i also just started rewatching an old Dream SMP episode about Ghostbur & Phil :)

currently reading: a couple books!! himawari house by harmony becker, the how & the why by cynthia hand, wild and distant seas by tara karr roberts, and i’m planning to start a new book soon!

currently obsessed with: honestly it’s Bluey lol. i wouldn’t call it an obsession per se, but the 28 minute episode made me feel so many things & made me remember really sad memories & made me feel so hopefully happy & it also made me tear up three times, soooo… i’ve been thinking about it lately.

favorite color: blue, but robin’s answer made me remember how much i enjoy cherry-blossom-pink as well!! especially after… yesterday? a few days ago? when i discovered some fallen cherry blossoms outside and tucked them behind my ears :) it’s a color that Tastes good, if you know what i mean <—no one knows what i mean

tagged by: @brown-little-robin (okay technically you didn’t tag me BUT you said anyone could join so I took the invitation :)

no pressure tags: @sunflower-chai @thatfriendlyanon @skaterfc @saltedcaramelchaos @cats-inthe-cradle @thisistheendtimes @biathediamond @sylvies-kablooie @wilbug and Pinestripe, if you’d like to participate then you’re more than welcome :D as well as anyone else who sees this and wants to join! please tag me if you participate because reading these is a lot of fun :D

#I don’t know why I decided to talk in mostly lowercase for this lol #my post #tag game #Spotify

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obitez · 7 months ago

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Iris, Chapter 2

More of my pregnant Tommy fic.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For Lucy, it was a regular Tuesday.

A run of the mill, regular Tuesday where she was working. Nothing had been out of the ordinary as she drove to work that morning. Nothing had been out of the ordinary since that plane rescue a couple months ago. The plane rescue she had missed because she was at her sister’s wedding up north in Washington.

Honestly, the most memorable thing she could think of recently was the day the crew was sitting around the radios laughing their asses off as they listened in on the chaos that was happening at the 118’s Haunt Fest. And two hours after they Tommy went running off to the hospital to go save his injured boyfriend.

And then, only two weeks later Tommy and said boyfriend had broken up.

Lucy didn’t know what that was about. Tommy hadn’t told her, or anyone, anything. If it wasn’t for the fact that Tommy had been moping around, tinkering around the choppers that all of the mechanics assured were 100% good to go, nobody would have probably found out.

They eventually needled it out of him. The only thing they got was ‘Buck and I broke up last weekend,’ nothing more.

Which left the entire shift with questions. Questions that Tommy refused to answer.

Another two weeks went by, and Tommy had still been moping around each shift, although things were slightly better. The mechanics were no longer questioning their work, although everyone who stocked the choppers were questioning their inventory counts.

Before she drove the last couple blocks to Harbor Station, Lucy made a stop at the Starbucks about a mile down the street. She didn’t stop here every shift, but she did more often than not. As she ordered, she decided to order an extra drink for Tommy, one of his favorites, their mocha chai latte - iced.

Maybe it would cheer him up a little. As much as the man was trying to play his break up all cool and over it, she knew he wasn’t. They all knew he wasn’t.

Walking into Harbor Station, she walked into the kitchen carrying both drinks, and set Tommy’s on the table.

“Oh, what’s this?” Donaldson asked as he walked into the kitchen and saw the extra drink on the table. “Did you get this for me?”

“No,” Lucy said as she swatted his hand out of the way from where he reached out for the cup. “It’s for Tommy.”

Tommy, who still hadn’t gotten over his break up with his boyfriend two weeks ago. Even though the man refused to tell her why exactly they had broken up, she knew he was still being affected by it. She couldn’t recall him even having the ghost of a smile on his face since then. While she supposed she could call Buck and ask for details, they weren’t the closest of friends, and it would just feel weird to call him out of the blue asking ‘Hey, I know we haven’t spoken in four months, but I need to know why you broke up with your boyfriend.’

As much as people knew her to be nosy, she still had boundaries she refused to cross. Asking your former co-worker who happened to be your current co-worker’s ex why they broke up was one of them.

“Where is he anyway?” Lucy asked. She had been here for about five minutes now, and hadn’t seen any sighting of the man. Their shift officially started in five minutes though they rarely had an official ‘role call�� here, and Tommy was almost always a half hour early to their shifts. And the breakup did nothing to change that, in fact, it had been causing him to come in even earlier.

“I think I saw him go into the Captain’s office,” Donaldson said. “They’ve been in there a while.”

“In Cap’s office?” Lucy repeated to herself. What would they be doing in there? Tommy wasn’t in trouble was he? No, he couldn’t be. Yes the man had been moping around their last couple shifts. But he hadn’t done anything to break any rules or policies. Hadn’t made any mistakes. And even Parker moped around for a couple weeks after each of his break ups, and that man went through a lot of break ups. He had never gotten in trouble for it though.

Lucy saw the stare Donaldson was giving the drink on the table. “It’s for Tommy,” she repeated.

“Right, right,” the man nodded as he backed up, holding his hands up to the ceiling in a surrendering posture. “I won’t take it, relax.”

As he walked away Lucy turned her attention in the direction of the Captain’s office. His door was closed, which wasn’t really surprising. He often did that when he was holding private conversations with people. But that left her to wonder, what could they be talking about?

About ten minutes later, both Tommy and the Captain walked out of the office. Tommy began walking in the direction of the locker room while their Captain went to go talk to Lopez in the offices upstairs.

Lucy grabbed the drink off of the counter and followed after Tommy.

Continued on AO3

Chapter 1

#911 abc #bucktommy fic #bucktommy #ao3 #tommy kinard #evan buckley #mpreg #mpreg Tommy

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