#backpack mug art | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ssahotchnerr · 1 year

Note

hello my sweet! been reading your stuff a lot lately and the way you write aaron is so beautiful and real but anyway i’ll stop gushing - imagine just EXISTING with aaron. like the both of you doing your evening routines and just being happy and safe in each others prescence like UNF I NEED HIM BIBLICALLY

also also imagine him using his height to tease u like knowing you always use a particular mug so he likes putting it on the top shelf so he can tower over you and press himself against your back under the pretense of “helping” like aaron you little slut we know what you’re trying to do and its mean😠 (do it again)

anyway ily lots and i hope you’ve had a good day n stuff

- Gem💙

routine and a tease

thank you so much my sweet ily!! hehe here's a thing including alllll of that cw; suggestiveness, allusions to sex, mentions of food, aaron being a lil shit <3 wc; 1k

aaron's alarm goes off at seven, yours at seven thirty.

you're notorious for hitting snooze, several times, while aaron promptly rises at the first ring. half the time, you're convinced he even beats his alarm most days.

aaron's finished showering by the time you drag yourself out of bed. steam's still coating the bathroom mirror, the air's a bit thick with the lingering heat, and it fogs into your bedroom. as you enter, he exits, but not without giving you your first kiss of the morning. you hop in the shower next, while aaron dresses and trails out.

being the first awake, aaron has the awakening the apartment duties. he pulls the curtains open, allowing the morning light to flood in. he grabs jack's backpack off the chair at the dining room table, quickly double checks that homework was completed, and that the papers in his folder are orderly and within easy access, according to jack's lesson schedule - science is first, then math, language arts, so on - and back into his backpack it goes. he then double checks to make sure his briefcase and go-bag has everything he needs, he'll retrieve his gun and badge when he heads out later.

aaron sets both by the door, as well as your bag. he knows everything is already prepared and ready to go - you won't go to bed the night prior if it's not. you've told him many times, as not an early riser, why add a reason to rush in the morning if you can help it?

being the first awake also has its advantages, especially when it comes to a certain game aaron is fond of playing. he'll never deny himself the opportunity to poke affectionate fun at you.

and he does so for the other benefit; it does tend you rile you up.

even this, is routine.

you enter the kitchen with a yawn - you passed aaron in the hallway, where he gave you your second kiss of the day, off to jack's room to get him up and at 'em.

aaron's already brewed the coffee, and your creamer is on the counter waiting for you. all you need to do is open the cabinet to retrieve your favorite cup.

it's a mug jack painted you, at one of those pottery and art studios in the city. it was one of your birthday surprises this past year, and it's the only mug you plan on using for the rest of time. you even have a matching plate, aaron's own doing when he accompanied jack at the studio.

no matter how many times aaron pulls the stunt, your reaction is always the same. your brows crumble at the absence - at the empty spot amongst the other mugs. where you had left it the night before after unloading the dishwasher, it's no longer there. and as expected it's on the very top shelf, way out of your reach.

"aaron," you whine, loudly enough it trails out of the kitchen and down the hall.

a moment later aaron enters, a mischievous, knowing glint in his eyes. he knows that whine, but doesn't address it, naturally. "good morning darling. sleep well?"

you narrow your eyes, playfully glaring at him as your arms crossed in front of you. despite your ministrations, a smile tugs at your lips, "i did. you?"

"mhmm." he presses his lips to yours. his eyes quickly flick up to the open cabinet, right to where your mug stands, but remains purposefully oblivious.

you continue to play along. "busy day ahead?"

aaron shrugs, grabbing his mug and pouring his helping. "nothing out of the ordinary. budget meeting, there's a few reports i have to finish, the usual."

you hum in response, leaning back against the kitchen counter.

aaron takes a sip of coffee, only to hide his itching smile. "is there something wrong?"

"is there?" you mock his cheeky tone, and your eyes narrow again. "somehow, my mug isn't where i left it."

"that's strange," aaron feigns confusion, his brows furrowing as his gaze moved upward. "all the way up there? wonder how that happened."

you scoff lightly, turning back to the cupboard. you leaned up on your tiptoes as you attempted to reach for it, anticipating his next move. "yeah, i wonder."

as you expected, aaron's front is suddenly flush against your back, fully crowding you, his mouth at your ear. "lemme help." his voice is low as he reaches up, retrieving your mug with ease. his other hand lands on the spot right above your ass, daring to move lower, and causing your breath to catch in your throat.

but, aaron withdrawals his hand the second he hears the soft breath escape you, grabbing the pot of coffee and pouring it into your mug himself.

mission successful, once again.

you exhale, deeply yet gently, heat filling your cheeks. it's days like these, you'll opt for iced coffee.

some rare mornings though, with jack at jess's and neither you or aaron have anywhere to be, his actions don't stop there. more often than not, the two of you don't even bother to leave the kitchen.

aaron leans up against the counter, silently watching you prepare your coffee to your liking, rather unenthusiastically at that. after your first sip, and another amused glare directed at him, you start pulling out the cereal for breakfast. aaron falls alongside you, beginning to pack jack's lunch - grabbing an uncrustable from the freezer, filling a ziploc of carrots, another of veggie straws.

again, your shared, usual routine.

you're the one to finally break the silence. "one of these days, i'm buying a step stool."

"no you won't," a laugh bursts from him as he grabs a juice box from the fridge, the loudness of it making you grin instantly. he straightens his posture as he stands back upright, a half smile, half smirk plastered on his face. "you enjoy this just as much as i do. even more."

he has you there, and from the expression your face pulls in response, he knows it. a laugh leaves him once more as he crowds you, backing you against the counter and pressing his lips to yours.

"this is the best part of the morning,'' aaron mumbles into your lips. "is it not?"

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds drabble #aaron hotchner drabble #criminal minds fanfiction #hotch imagine #criminal minds x you

1K notes · View notes

upsidedownwithsteve · 1 year

Text

CH10. Cheque, Please! | The Menu [2.2K] Eddie Munson x shy fem!reader: a line cook au.

ONE YEAR LATER

The diner was packed.

Tables were full, the large room a buzz of chatter and music, the speakers playing an old sixties bop. It was a familiar sight, one that happened more often than not since Jim sold the diner. The new owner ripped the place apart, down to its old bones before he put his life savings into it.

New floors, new tables and chairs, artwork on the walls that were signed by Argyle, a photo of the whole staff taken and framed by Jonathan, Jim Hopper at the forefront, a wide smile on his face on the last day before his retirement. The bulbs in the neon sign outside had been replaced so it no longer flickered, the green and blue glow of it now announcing the diner’s new name, proud and bright for everyone to see.

Eddie’s Slice Of Chicago.

“Door! Behind!” You yelled out as you entered the kitchen empty plates piled high in your arms and Jonathan took them from you with practised ease.

Steve was on the grill, still hesitant and not as fast as Argyle, but he was flipping burgers quicker than he had last week. His chef whites were brand new, his name badge shiny and his front of house position taken over by Nancy. Everyone was in new uniforms, freshly pressed and a sage green, aprons still without stains and a pocketful of pens that didn’t run out of ink too quickly. Robin was taking orders, laughing with a family from out of town, letting their toddler grab at her finger as she promised them to return soon with their pizzas and shakes. Dustin was helping Max run a large order to a table of backpackers, a border collie under the table at their feet, getting its ears scratched by the new start, Mike.

There was a sign on the staff notice board, up beside the employee of the month, a piece of ripped paper with the words “SIXTY FOUR DAYS SINCE THE LAST FREEZER BREAKDOWN.” The rest of the space was filled with staff photos, polaroids and prints of the group at a fourth of July picnic, a barbecue at Jim’s in the summer, huddled around the kitchens countertops in the winter, drinking from mugs filled with Argyle’s homemade horchata, the frame that held Billy’s scrawled termination letter, an old napkin that held a small conversation in pen.

It felt more like home than ever. Even when Eddie wasn’t there.

Everyone answered to you in his absence, unofficially in charge when the boss wasn’t here. It had taken some getting used to, hell, you’d even tried to pawn off the responsibility to Nancy, or Steve, anyone who’d been at the grill longer than you had. But Nancy was part time, back at college during the week, taking Robin on dates in the evenings and Steve was too busy being trained as a new prep chef to worry about invoices and deliveries.

So you stepped into the role cautiously, softening to the idea when Eddie kissed you something fierce and told you that there wasn’t anyone else he trusted to do the job. His acceptance letter had come the month after taking over the diner. A thick, white envelope that lay heavy on your doormat because he’d finally moved in, sharing your small apartment with you like he did everything else.

Clothes. Jewellery. Books. Records. Food. Kisses.

Vincennes University offered Eddie the chance to do what he hadn’t been able to before. Refining his craft, learning new skills, working in a state of the art kitchen with equipment he’d come home and gush to you about. The diner was doing well enough that tuition wasn’t a worry anymore and suddenly, the long commute into Indianapolis for classes four days a week seemed worth it. Eddie was passing with flying colours, receiving accolades and opportunities at every given moment and when he came home, exhausted but happy, he came home to you.

Bone tired, he’d slip into the apartment, socked feet padding gently over the floorboards, Tupperware full of something delicious to be stacked in the fridge. He’d find you curled up somewhere, a black cat called Basil in the nook of your bent legs. He’d kiss you sweet, he’d kiss you soft, warming you up to a simmer until you forgot how much you’d missed him that day.

It was all worth it.

“Table eighteen wants extra hash browns and booth six needs two pepperoni’s and the Hawkins special, chefs,” you called to Steve as you slapped the orders onto the bar.

“Got it,” Steve and Argyle called back, one a little more nervously than the other but it was okay, ‘cause Eddie was home soon.

Eddie was home soon.

He’d called from a pay phone outside of the school, voice buzzing with excitement, with pride, and yours mirrored his back. He’d be on the train soon, he’d meet you at the apartment, if you could get away early. So you handed your keys to Nancy and she grinned, knowing there was a cause for celebration waiting at home for you. You drove Eddie’s van back along the road, coming into town on the familiar stretch, passing Wayne’s, the trailer park you both visited every Sunday for dinner.

The apartment door was unlocked, dimly lit in the early fall gloom, already smelling like garlic and tomatoes, like fresh bread and the scent of Eddie cologne that lingered on his jacket that hung in the hallway. Eddie’s records were in the shelves by your books, his guitar hanging from a hook in the tiny office room, his shoes on the bench by the door. He’d transformed your kitchen when he’d moved in, a decision that had been all too easy to make. There were pots and pans hanging from the rack, shiny, sharp knives that he was scared of you using without him there, jars and tubs of ingredients stacked high in the fridge and the pantry. There were fresh herbs in planters on the window sill. The radio always played.

The kitchen always felt like the heart of the home.

That’s where you found Eddie, sweater sleeves rolled up and grinning at you from the stove top, a large spoon in hand as he mixed in some fresh rosemary to the pot of sauce. He greeted you with a glass of wine, the cheap stuff that you liked best, catching you in a kiss before you could bring the cup to your lips.

He kissed you soft, kissed you sweet, humming when you laughed into his mouth, his free hand slipping inside of your shirt to ghost his fingers over your ribs.

“Hi,” you whispered. You’d never tire of this. This warmth, this kind of greeting, this feeling of coming home. “Good day?”

Eddie nodded, stealing another kiss, catching the corner of your mouth. He gazed at you, eyes shining with excitement and you could practically feel the buzz in his bones for what he was about to say.

“I got it.”

You blinked, once, before your smile turned into a grin and it stretched wide. You barely had the common sense to place your wine on the countertop before you launched yourself at the boy, your arms wound round his neck as your crushed your face into his curls. Eddie whooped, a joyful thing as he lifted you off your feet and grinned against your throat.

“You got it,” you whispered back to him, everything in you frilled with awe and pride.

“I got it,” he repeated again. His voice sounded thick.

The internship with Chef Emmelie was something that everyone in Eddie’s class was vying for. Eddie had spent an insane amount of time on his application, using you as his own personal taste tester in both work and home. New recipes were concocted, old dishes were reworked and it had all paid off. Eddie had been hand picked to work alongside one of the country’s greats, assisting in setting up a new restaurant, a fine dining establishment that promised to deliver nothing but the best cuisine to the masses. Eddie would help create the menu, and hopefully, maybe, eventually, take over as head chef.

It was another level of surreal.

“I knew you would,” you mumbled into his neck, pulling back only to crush Eddie’s cheeks in the palms of your hands and give him a kiss that ducked his breath away. His lips tasted salty, but perhaps that was your own tears you could taste. Eddie just held onto you tighter, his stew mix bubbling away without any attention. “Where is it? Have they told you where you’re setting up?”

You’d held Eddie’s hand as he clutched his application letter and promised him that no matter where they sent him, you’d follow. The only thing that tied you to Hawkins, was the boy and Basil was easy enough to smuggle into a cat carrier, once you could catch him. Wayne had squashed any hesitancy from Eddie immediately, waving him off and saying that there would be private jets for each of you once he hit the big time as the new celebrity chef. And of course, there was the diner.

Eddie laughed then, a breathy, disbelieving thing and he finally shuffled to settle you onto the small dining table that sat in the corner of the kitchen. He nudged his way in between your legs, sniffling when Basil appeared to wind around his own ankles and the only sounds were the purring of the cat and the simmering of dinner. You held your breath, brows raised, expectant.

London? Dubai? Paris? Los Angeles?

“They wanna set up in Chicago.”

—————

Going back to the city you left was a lot less daunting with Eddie by your side.

Wayne moved out of the trailer park and into your apartment, something that made leaving a little easier for Eddie. He still owned the diner, and promised to stop by at least a few times a month if scheduling around the new restaurant would allow. He’d found a new manager, a woman from town called Joyce who loved to bake and knew enough about taxes and accounting that she didn’t fuck up order and invoices. She loved the place like Eddie did, promised she’d do it proud.

(She met Jim on Sunday in summer and after she served him her famous cherry cheesecake, one date in the park had turned into three, into five and now they were inseparable. They spent most of their time walking around town, visiting farmers and Jim enjoyed his retirement by helping Joyce create new desserts for the diner.)

Eddie’s internship came with an apartment in the suburbs, a small townhouse that was far enough from the hustle of the city that you felt more at home than before. It was less bright, less loud and Basil had a garden to roam in, a bench beside a vegetable patch he could bathe in the sun from.

It had a pantry and old oak floors, a huge window that looked out onto the street that was lined with cherry trees, and a nook in the living room that you liked to read in. You found a job, pretty easily, a vintage bookstore on the edge of town that smelled like coffee and cinnamon, old pages and older stories. It was owned by an old man who let his dog sleep under the front desk, who brought in pastries for breakfast and made you sweet tea in the summer.

The restaurant opened in the spring. Hit headlines the following day, praising the special on the menu made by newcomer chef, Edward Munson. By the summer, the heat was climbing and so was Eddie’s popularity. He was running the restaurant, got to create a new menu every six weeks and the waitlist was booked out until Christmas. He told you he loved you every time you paid him a visit, on your lunch break, a whisper between a kiss hello and goodbye in the kitchen, coy whistles from his staff that he burned pink at.

And when you both drove back to Hawkins for long weekends and holiday stays, you crammed yourselves and Basil into your old apartment with Wayne, packed his freezer full of food and tried to convince him to take in one (maybe two) of the strays from the trailer park to keep him company.

You spent the Fourth of July with the diner crew, in the backyard of Jim and Joyce’s new home, sharing Polaroids and newspaper clippings of the restaurant, of your new home, Eddie’s menu. Steve was in awe but nothing could beat the look of pride on your boyfriend’s face when Steve told him he’d mastered a French omelette. Argyle was running the kitchen, Nancy had been promoted to assistant manager, part time or not, and Robin had helped Jonathan in running a Sunday morning coffee club, where Hawkins residents got to taste test new bean flavours over a pastry breakfast and some town gossip.

Eddie didn’t scowl much, not anymore.

And when you next bumped into Chrissy, you waved at her from under the tuck of Eddie’s arm, diamond ring glinting on your left hand in the sun. She didn’t have much to say to you, not after that.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fluff

1K notes · View notes