#eating cereal for breakfast is WEIRD

[bluejaybytes]

Somewhere at home, my dad has just gotten an ego boost and he doesn't know why (I ate poptarts for breakfast) (Currently eating uncooked ramen noodles with the seasoning pack sprinkled on top)

[today-i-am-thinking-about]

complementary hotel breakfast

[toughtink]

honestly, a lot of americans end up skipping breakfast. on mornings when i have to work, i grab something easy like a muffin, slice of toast, yogurt, or some fruit. on slower mornings we’ll do fried eggs with bacon or a small omelette with mushrooms and arugula. and on special occasions like holidays or birthdays we’ll do pancakes or french toast or cinnamon rolls—more desserty options. but those are rare.

and for other meals?? differs a lot person to person. idk, i feel like i eat a lot of chicken.

Ik there are usamericans following me I have a question for yall , what the fuck do y'all even eat . Like . The typical huge greasy American breakfast has to be an exaggeration but I really can't think of meals that don't contain stuff exclusive to my country and do you guys even have that honestly

[cassiemaebarnes]

Grumpy & the New Girl: Part 6

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Masterlist

Bucky x reader

Summary: She wasn’t supposed to meet him like that. He wasn’t supposed to let her in. But sometimes, things don’t go according to plan.

Word Count: 3735

The next morning, when you hobbled into the kitchen, it was quiet. Too quiet.

You shuffled over to the coffee maker, determined to start your day like usual. You didn’t need Bucky to make you breakfast or rinse your dishes or lean against the counter with that stupid soft smirk while you teased him. You just needed coffee.

Your first problem: the mugs were on the top shelf.

You stretched up on one foot, wobbling slightly. The crutch under your arm shifted at the worst possible angle. You grabbed the edge of the counter to keep from tipping over, heart lurching.

“Seriously?” you muttered to yourself, staring up at the mugs like they personally betrayed you.

Eventually, you set your crutches aside and pulled a barstool over, climbing onto it awkwardly. You grabbed a mug and exhaled in victory – then nearly fell off trying to get back down.

Next, you wanted to make eggs.

You shuffled to the fridge, pulled a couple eggs out, then hopped away so the door could shut behind you. It was going fine, until you lost your balance and reached out for the counter.

One of the eggs rolled out of your hand and landed on the floor with a splat.

“NO,” you said dramatically, staring down at the sticky mess.

You sighed as you bent down to clean it up, cursing softly to yourself. This was ridiculous. This wasn’t even a hard task, and somehow, if felt impossible without Bucky.

You didn’t want to admit it, but you missed him. More than you expected.

And it was only day one.

--

The next day, you opted for cereal instead of making something, assuming it would be easier.

Until you were staring at it on the counter, wondering how you were going to get it to the island so you could sit down. You did not think this through.

So, you ended up eating it while standing at the counter, balancing on one leg like a flamingo.

Later, you wanted to distract yourself by doing some reading. You plopped down on the couch with a book you’d been meaning to start, a throw blanket, and an ice pack. You propped up your ankle on a pillow, then had to reach down to try to position the ice pack so it wouldn’t fall off.

It was harder than you thought.

You finally got it to stay, then leaned back with a sigh. It was so much easier when Bucky was here to do it for you.

--

The third day, you settled in the same place, almost done with your book.

The quiet was peaceful for a while, but then, you kept glancing up from the pages, half-expecting Bucky to wander in and plop down next to you, putting his arm behind you on the couch like he usually did.

You were halfway through a chapter when something under the chair in the corner caught your eye. You leaned forward and squinted – it was small and red. You flung your blanket off and hobbled over to pick it up.

It was a Monopoly hotel.

It must’ve gotten thrown during your game and neither of you noticed it while he was picking up. You smiled softly, remembering how fun the game was and how you laughed so hard your stomach hurt.

You set it on the coffee table and stared at it for a while.

It was dumb, honestly. But something about the tiny, red hotel sitting on the table made your chest ache.

--

The next day, you decided to watch a movie since you finished your book. And, of course, you fell asleep.

When you woke up, it was dark outside, a different movie had started playing automatically, and your neck and back were killing you from the weird angle you were slumped in.

You slowly sat up and groaned, rubbing your eyes. Your ankle throbbed as you turned off the TV and reached for your crutches.

It was easier when Bucky was there. He would just pick you up without a word and carry you back to your room.

As much as you teased him for it, it was always comfortable in his arms.

You pulled yourself up, stretched, then situated your crutches under your arms. You made your way back to your room, almost faceplanting a couple of times, missing Bucky more than ever.

--

Wrong. Now you were missing Bucky more than ever.

You tried to make yourself lunch without drama today. Emphasis on tried.

Everything was going well, until you were hopping over to the island, carrying your plate of freshly made nachos.

But because it was just a layer of chips on the bottom, they started to slide when you reached your chair. You tried to save it, but overcorrected.

The whole plate of nachos slid off and landed on the floor.

You just stared at it, eyes starting to sting.

You slumped down into the chair, crossing your arms on the table and laying your head down while a few tears slipped out. It was stupid to cry over dropping your lunch, but it was the fact that you felt like you couldn’t do anything on your own that upset you.

And you missed Bucky so much.

Not that you would admit that to anyone.

You finally lifted your head up, wiping your eyes, and grabbed your phone, sending Bucky a quick text: Hey

He had texted you a few times earlier in the week, but it had been a couple days. You knew he probably wouldn’t respond until later, but you just wanted to talk to him.

While you were sitting on the couch later, scrolling through your phone, he finally answered.

Hey, you okay?

You’re eyes started to sting again. Of course he knew you weren’t okay.

You thought about lying, telling him you were good and just wanted to check in, but you couldn’t do it. Plus, he would’ve seen right through it.

I haven’t eaten all day because I dropped my whole lunch on the floor. I miss you.

He texted back less than a minute later.

I’ll order a pizza to the compound. I miss you more.

You smiled down at your phone. Of course he would do that from thousands of miles away.

Half an hour later, the pizza was delivered (and already paid for), and you hopped over to the table with the large pizza box in your hand from your favorite place. You opened it up to your favorite toppings. It looked amazing.

You inhaled four pieces before sticking the rest of the box in the fridge.

--

On day six, your laundry basket was overflowing, so you attempted to do laundry.

You hobbled down the hallway, dragging your basket, and by the time you got to the laundry room, you were sweating and panting, genuinely considering giving up and wearing the same three outfits forever.

You leaned against the washer for a second, before finally dumping half your clothes into the washer, not even bothering to separate colors.

You crutched back to the elevator, went back to your room, and flopped down on your bed with a sigh.

Bucky would be back tomorrow. You just have to get through one more day.

When you were finally done with your two loads of laundry, you drug the basket back to your room. Once again, you were sweaty and out of breath, so you jumped in the shower before folding your clothes.

When you were done, the last thing you wanted to do was put your laundry away, but you forced yourself to do it. You didn’t want to be the girl that couldn’t function without her boyfriend.

Not that he was your boyfriend. But still.

--

The next morning, you woke up and tried to ignore the fact that you were smiling like a fool.

Bucky was coming back today.

And everyone else. You tried to convince yourself you were just happy because it wouldn’t be dead quiet around the compound anymore, but you knew what it really was.

You were excited to finally see Bucky and his stupid smirk again.

----

Bucky

The second he shut the door and started walking to the quinjet, he already knew the week was going to suck.

He stood in front of the jet, his bag slung over one shoulder, and his eyes drifted toward the door again. A dull weight settled in his chest.

He hated that she’d be alone while they were gone. Hated that she’d try to play it off, like it didn’t bother her, when he knew damn well it would. Hated that he wouldn’t be around when she needed help, or needed a laugh, or just needed someone to reach the damn mugs on the top shelf.

And he hated that he wouldn’t get to see her every day.

She wasn’t just a teammate anymore. Not to him.

--

When Bucky woke up to his alarm the next morning, the room was quiet. Too quiet.

He’d slept awful last night. He tried to convince himself it was because it was a new bed he wasn’t used to, but that wasn’t the real reason. He couldn’t stop thinking about her.

He sighed as he pulled himself out of bed, moving on autopilot to get ready. Before he left his room to join the others, he sent her a quick text.

Fall asleep on the couch last night?

He knew she wasn’t up yet, and he wouldn’t see her response until tonight when he got back, but he just wanted to talk to her.

When they got back to base later that night, Bucky went straight to his room and grabbed his phone, opening the text from her.

No, didn’t have someone comfortable to fall asleep on

He smiled, then sent a quick text back.

Glad I’m not being replaced

She answered minutes later.

I could never replace you. Tell your shoulder I missed it. And the rest of you too, I guess

He let out a chuckle, smiling down at his phone.

Yeah. He definitely missed her.

--

The next morning, he woke up groggy, blinking in the bed of his temporary room.

He dreamed about her.

It wasn’t anything crazy. Just her. Laughing. Sitting on the couch, half-asleep, head on his shoulder. Looking at him like he’d just said something dumb.

And for a second, he reached over to the spot beside him like she’d be there. But it was empty.

He sat up and rubbed his face before running his hands through his hair. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to make it the rest of the week now.

--

The third day, they were sitting around the base, eating dinner. He was zoned out, thinking about the mission that day. Thinking about her.

Suddenly, he was pulled out of his thoughts by Tony saying his name.

“Hmm?”

“Did you hear what I said?” Tony asked, one eyebrow raised.

“No, what’d you say?”

“I asked if you thought your girlfriend burned down the compound yet. She’s not exactly the best cook,” he said, laughing along with the others.

Bucky blinked, then scoffed. “She’s not that bad.”

“Not that bad?” Sam repeated, grinning. “Barnes, she burned her food the first time she tried to cook something at the compound.”

“That was one time,” Bucky muttered.

“Yeah,” Nat replied. “The only time she’s made something.”

“And it ended up tasting good, it wasn’t fully burnt,” Bucky said, sitting up straighter, voice just a little too sharp.

Everyone paused.

“Ohhh, you’re in deep, huh?” Clint said, shaking his head.

“I’m not–” Bucky started, then stopped, jaw flexing. “I just don’t like you talking about her like she’s helpless.”

“We didn’t say helpless,” Tony said, smirking. “We said she’d burn the place down trying to make toast. Which is, frankly, adorable.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and went back to poking at his food.

”It’s a good thing you’re down bad, you can just keep cooking for her to save the compound from destruction,” Sam said, laughing.

Bucky shot him a look. “I’m not down bad. She’s just injured.”

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that,” Steve replied, shaking his head.

And as everyone else was laughing, beneath the grumbling, Bucky was fighting back a smile. Because, yeah – he might be down bad. And if they were going to tease him about it? Fine.

She was worth it.

--

The next morning, he woke up from another dream.

Another dream she was in.

This time, she was trying to make pancakes and kept threatening him with the spatula when he teased her. He’d made some dumb comment about her flipping skills and she’d told him she was going to “accidentally” hit him with the spatula if he didn’t shut up.

When he woke up, he could’ve sworn he smelled maple syrup. He hadn’t even eaten pancakes in months.

After he got ready, he walked into the kitchen where the others were, still in a funk.

“Morning, Buck,” Steve said as Bucky walked in, going straight to the coffee machine.

“Morning,” he mumbled, grabbing the pot and a mug, avoiding eye contact with anyone.

He poured his coffee slowly, stirring it in that half-zoned-out way that usually meant his brain was miles away.

Sam leaned back in his chair and narrowed his eyes at him. “Okay, what’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing,” Bucky replied too fast.

“Uh huh,” Sam said, grinning. “You sure you’re not thinking about your girlfriend?”

Bucky sighed and took a sip of his coffee without answering.

Steve raised an eyebrow. “You miss her?”

Bucky didn’t say anything, just kept staring into his mug.

That was all the confirmation they needed.

“Aww,” Nat said, smirking over the rim of her cup. “He does miss her. Look at his little grumpy face.”

“Grumpier than usual,” Clint added. “You been writing poetry in your bunk, Barnes?”

“I will throw this coffee,” Bucky muttered.

“Yeah, yeah, violent threats, deflection. Classic symptoms of a man in love,” Tony said dramatically. “Soon he’ll be doodling in a notebook and putting their initials together.”

Sam tilted his head, mock curious. “You been dreaming about her too?”

That made Bucky freeze for just a second – just long enough.

Nat leaned forward with a mischievous grin. “You have been dreaming about her.”

“I’m gonna regret showing up to breakfast,” Bucky muttered.

Sam pretended to swoon. “Was it a romantic dream? Were you two holding hands? Staring into each other’s eyes?”

“Pfft, no,” Tony said. “It was definitely domestic.”

Bucky glared at all of them. “She threatened me with a spatula.”

“Oh my god, like the first night you met,” Steve said, actually laughing now.

Nat clapped once. “I knew it!”

Sam leaned over, grinning. “Hey man, dreams like that don’t come outta nowhere. Sounds like your subconscious is trying to tell you something.”

Bucky gave him a flat look. “Yeah. It’s telling me to stop talking to you.”

Tony raised his coffee like a toast. “Too late. You’re in it now, lover boy.”

And despite his best efforts to look annoyed, Bucky’s lips twitched. Just a little.

Because yeah. He missed her.

--

The fifth day, they had spent all day out on the mission.

When they got back to base, he went straight to his room, checking his phone to see if she had texted. His heart skipped a beat when he saw that she did text, but it was just one word.

Hey

That was all. But it was enough. He knew her, and knew how she normally texted. That “hey” wasn’t casual.

He opened the text and stared at it, guilt twisting in his gut.

He replied right away.

Hey, you okay?

It took a few minutes, but when the dots appeared on the screen, he didn’t look away once.

Then, her text finally showed up.

I haven’t eaten all day because I dropped my whole lunch on the floor. I miss you.

He swallowed hard, feeling guilty that she’d been feeling like this for hours.

He typed so fast his thumbs blurred.

I’ll order a pizza to the compound. I miss you more.

Right away, he went to the website of her favorite pizza place, placing an order for a large pizza with her favorite toppings, choosing the delivery option and typing in the compound’s address and his credit card number.

After he got the confirmation email, he sighed, dropping his phone back on the nightstand. He hated that she didn’t have anyone to help her. Hated that he wasn’t there to help her.

He took a quick shower, then headed downstairs for dinner. The second he walked in, Tony called him over.

“Barnes, why did I just get a notification that someone was at the door to the compound, saying they had pizza for James Barnes?”

He barely had time to process the question before Sam turned around in his seat, eyebrows raised.

“Wait, you sent a pizza to the compound?”

Bucky grabbed a tray and started scooping food onto it like he didn’t hear the question. “Yeah,” he said casually. “She hadn’t eaten all day.”

“Aw,” Natasha cooed, voice full of fake sweetness. “Our little soldier’s gone soft.”

Bucky shot her a look. “She dropped her lunch. That’s all. I was just helping her out.”

“Oh sure,” Tony said, leaning back dramatically in his chair. “Just helping out the damsel in distress. Purely professional. Not romantic at all.”

“It wasn’t–” Bucky sighed, setting his tray down with a little more force than necessary. “It wasn’t like that. She’s been stuck at the compound, injured. I figured it was the least I could do.”

Sam grinned like a shark. “And I’m assuming you knew what her favorite pizza place was, and ordered it with her favorite toppings?”

Bucky didn’t answer. He shoved a bite of food in his mouth and stared at his plate.

“Man,” Clint said, shaking his head. “You’re so far gone, it’s kinda cute.”

Steve was trying not to smile, but he leaned over and gave Bucky a gentle nudge with his elbow. “You care about her. That’s not a bad thing, Buck.”

Bucky didn’t look up. “She just needed someone.”

“And it just so happens that someone is you,” Wanda said softly, a little smile on her lips.

“You’ve officially become the team softie,” Nat said, biting back a grin.

Bucky pointed his fork at her. “You take that back.”

“Sorry, lover boy,” Sam said, leaning back in his chair with a smug grin. “You ordered pizza. You forfeited your right to be scary.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, shaking his head, but the corner of his mouth twitched. Just a little.

Because he knew she would feel at least a little better after having her favorite pizza.

--

The next morning, when his alarm went off, he was already up. He had been up for a few hours.

He couldn’t sleep.

He’d tossed and turned for hours before finally falling asleep, and he woke up way before his alarm, just laying there. Thinking about her.

He should’ve been there.

Helping her make meals. Reminding her to ice her ankle. Letting her fall asleep on his shoulder. Carrying her back to her room. Just be there for her.

But, they were almost done with the mission. He would see her tomorrow night.

That’s all the motivation he needed to pull himself out of bed, ready to start the day.

--

The next day, they finally wrapped up the mission, although it was a couple hours later than anticipated.

They got back to the base and had an hour to shower and pack before it was wheels up.

He couldn’t wait.

He was packing up his things, getting ready to head to the jet, when Steve walked in.

“You’re in a better mood,” Steve said, raising a brow.

“Yeah,” Bucky replied simply. “Going home.”

Steve gave him a knowing look. “Or just going back to her?”

Bucky didn’t answer.

He didn’t have to.

He hoisted his bag over his shoulder and started down the hallway toward the landing pad. The others were still packing up or grabbing something to eat last-minute, but Bucky was already halfway to the quinjet.

When he reached the jet, he set his bag down near the ramp and leaned against the side, arms crossed, waiting.

A few minutes later, Sam and Nat showed up, both carrying their bags and looking far too amused.

“Well, well, well,” Sam said. “Look who’s suddenly early for departure.”

Nat raised a brow. “You trying to impress someone, Barnes?”

Bucky didn’t even glance at them. “Just ready to go.”

“Uh huh,” Sam said. “You’ve been grumpy all week and now you’re out here smiling like you just won the lottery.”

“I’m not smiling,” Bucky muttered.

“You are, though,” Nat said, smirking. “It’s kind of adorable.”

Bucky groaned and ran a hand down his face. “Why are you both like this?”

“Because it’s fun watching you squirm,” Sam replied. “So tell us – what’s the plan? You gonna swoop in and give her the world’s most dramatic hug?”

Bucky gave him a look. “No.”

“Oh,” Nat said innocently, “so you’re going for the slow-motion hallway run into each other’s arms?”

He didn’t answer.

Sam grinned. “You have been rehearsing this in your head, haven’t you?”

“I have not,” Bucky snapped.

Which, of course, was absolutely not true.

He’d already imagined the way she’d look up when she saw him – maybe still leaning on those crutches, maybe sitting on the couch. Her eyes lighting up. That smile. He could picture it so clearly it almost hurt.

Steve finally walked up, duffel slung over his shoulder. “You guys giving him a hard time again?”

“He makes it too easy,” Nat said.

“Man’s glowing,” Sam added. “Love looks good on him.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “You all need hobbies.”

Tony arrived next, eyeing Bucky like he was suspicious of how calm he looked. “Barnes, you’re smiling. You’re standing in a relaxed posture. Did someone put something in your protein bar?”

“I’m fine.”

“He’s in love,” Nat sing-songed.

Bucky picked up his bag and walked up the ramp without another word, shaking his head, ignoring the chorus of laughter behind him.

Yeah, maybe he was in a better mood.

And maybe it had everything to do with the girl waiting for him back home.

--

Part 7 | Masterlist

Tag list: @ordelixx @read-just-cant-stop @erinallene @crazycleo @magnoliamermaid @thewriters64 @nelachu2423 @kjah97 @awesompawsum @winchestert101 @buckyb-stan @crazyunsexycool @buckysmetalgoddamnarm @buckybarnesfic @ozwriterchick @multiversefanfics @blavikennbutcher @mysoggywaffle @nameless-ken @starfly-nicole @440mxs-wife @vicmc624 @lostinspace33

[kxsagi]

Sae headcanon: This man's to-go breakfast when he's in Spain is this: https://cakewhiz.com/easy-yogurt-parfait-recipe/ Not only is it easy yo make, he can also customize it however he wants.

“𝐲𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐭 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐞𝐬"

a/n: BRO YOGURT PARFAITS ARE LIFE

i totally agree with this headcanon, but really think at the end of the day that sae just customizes his as the normal yogurt parfait since he’s so boring like that

kinda just wrote this one out but i am not too sure what reader is to sae, they definitely know each other/are best friends, but you’re staying at his house because your apartment is getting repainted. leaving it up to interpretation! 

(don't know art credits sorry)

you wake up to the sound of the window cracking open. 

the madrid sun is nosy, peeking in without an invitation, but sae’s already moving around the kitchen in that slow, deliberate way he does when he thinks no one’s watching. you squint from the couch bed, technically a temporary setup while your apartment gets painted, but mostly an excuse to sprawl near sae’s outrageously nice kitchen. 

he doesn’t notice you’re awake. or maybe he does and is pretending. hard to tell with him. 

he’s in a plain white tee and gray sweats, focus sharp like he’s about to perform surgery. but really, he’s just making… yogurt? 

you blink. yep. yogurt. with fruit. and granola from a jar that looks like it came with its own adobe light filter. 

you watch him scoop greek yogurt into a glass like it’s a science experiment. strawberries next. then blueberries. and the granola gets this dramatic slow-motion sprinkle like he’s in a cereal commercial. 

“is that breakfast or performance art?” you finally mumble, voice hoarse. 

he doesn’t even flinch. “you’re up.” 

“and you’re… parfaiting.” 

he slides the spoon into the glass and leans against the counter, taking a bite like he’s got all the time in the world. “do you want some or are you just going to narrate my meal?” 

you sit up, blanket falling off your shoulder. “depends. is that the good granola or the weird one you got by accident?” 

he sighs, the way he does when he’s pretending to be annoyed but is actually entertained. “i threw the weird one out. this has chocolate chunks.” 

you blink again, dramatically. “sae itoshi? sharing chocolate chunk granola? are we in an alternate timeline?” 

he grabs another glass from the cabinet. 

you shuffle over, still wrapped in the blanket like a cocoon, and plop onto one of the bar stools. “you know, most guys would make pancakes to impress their guest.” 

“i’m not most guys,” he says, not missing a beat. 

“you’re not even a pancake guy,” you mutter as he layers yours. “you’re a yogurt snob. a parfait elitist.” 

he raises an eyebrow as he spoons in the final layer. “say one more word and i’ll give you the off-brand berries.” 

you gasp. “you wouldn’t.” 

“watch me.” 

but instead of following through on his threat, he slides the glass over to you. perfect layers. strawberries on top. it looks like something you’d pay €14 for at a café with mediocre wifi. 

you try a bite. 

it’s annoyingly good. 

“i hate how this actually slaps,” you grumble, and he smirks into his glass like he already knew. 

you eat in silence for a while, just the sound of spoons clinking and birds gossiping outside the window. 

then you glance over. “hey.” 

he hums, not looking up. 

“next time you make this,” you say around a spoonful, “can you add honey?” 

he finally looks at you. “do you want me to ruin it?” 

“it’s not ruining, it’s flavor layering.” 

sae rolls his eyes, but he’s already calculating how much honey to drizzle next time. you can tell. 

you take another bite and smile at him, your parfait prince, yogurt snob of madrid, quietly sweet in his own way. 

you think you might like mornings like this. 

and maybe, just maybe, he does, too. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[theorphicangel]

“𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐜𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐝 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬?” | 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

synopsis: you have a valentine’s date tomorrow and you’re somewhat excited for it. but there’s just one thing you’re unsure about…thankfully your trusted roommate can help. right?

tags: roommate au! (Here we go again), smut, 18+, male masturbation, mutual pining, these mfs are in DENIAL smh, angsty ishhhh

taglist: @ghost-lantern @mreowmoreww @maomaimao @ahano

PART TWO. (click here for part one.)

“I think you’re lying to me.”

Miguel glances up at you from the dining table that he’s sitting at, currently eating a bowl of cereal. You’re standing opposite him, buttering a seemingly burnt piece of toast.

“Hmm?”

“I think you’re lying to me about not having a valentine’s date.”

Miguel’s eyes move back down to stare at his bowl, spoon mindlessly poking at the cereal but he’s not eating. He pauses for a few seconds, thinking over your words.

“What makes you think that?”

“You?” You point at him with your butter knife. “The Miguel O’Hara, the well-known ladies’ man has not one date tonight? Not a single one out of the countless ladies that he’s been with? Suspicious.”

“Looks like it.” he mumbles. You notice that his tone is dry. Refusing to play along with your teasing.

“See, I don’t believe it. Something’s up, you’re acting…weird.”

It’s ironic you say that. You have no right to judge him on his behavior. After all, you did suck him off on the couch last night. This morning, neither of you had made an attempt to discuss what had happened last night. You acted as if nothing had happened between the two of you, as if you had just gone to bed for an early night.

As for Miguel, it was a whole different story. Unbeknownst to you, he didn’t get any sleep that night. Tossing and turning, his cock aching at the thought of you. Each and every time that he tried to close his eyes, all he could picture was you between his thighs.

It was that look. That look you had in your eye, it was full of hunger and desire. It was a look that proudly told him that all you had wanted to do was to make him feel good.

Reminiscing on this, guilt ran through his bloodstream like poison, questions running through his mind.

Why didn’t he ask you to be his valentine’s sooner? Why didn’t he confess there and then? Why did he have to wait so long to make a move? Do you feel the same as him? Do you feel as if your soul is eating you from the inside out, tempting you to confess how you really feel? If he did confess, would you have canceled all your plans for him? Or would you act like how you’re acting now, pretending that nothing happened?

“I’m not being weird. I’m tired.” He mumbles, still poking at his cereal. In his mind he can already hear the voice of his mother berating him for it.

“Right.” you say, unable to think of anything more to say. Normally, it’s easier than this to start off playful banter between the two of you but you can sense Miguel’s energy was off.

This was almost reminiscent of your earlier days after moving in. How you both exchanged awkwardness and empty conversations that resulted from who's turn it was to take out the trash and the weather forecast.

You figure that perhaps Valentine's Day wasn't the best day for him, assuming that his behavior is the result of something else that happened. You decide to keep your pondering questions to yourself, instead finishing your breakfast in silence. You scroll mindlessly on your phone, seeing multiple posts of friends already waking up to cute valentine gifts and what not.

Audibly, you let out a sigh, wondering if your date – whom you may come across at work– has anything planned for you this morning.

You glance over at Miguel who continues to stare down at his bowl, the obnoxious sound of milk falling off his spoon fills the silence.

Anxiety builds up in your stomach about last night. Was it wrong to ask him to help you? Perhaps he regrets what happened, suddenly wishing he’d never agree to it. Your negative thoughts continue to build up inside you, suddenly taking away your appetite.

You thought last night was…good. Great, even. It had given you confidence for tonight.

if anything was to happen tonight.

Was last night helpful? Most definitely.

Did it spark something in you that you’ve tried to keep buried since the very moment you moved into the apartment? Sure.

Did you want to do it again? Hell yes.

But the question is, does he feel the same?

You take in his demeanor, his low mood and refusal to look up at you. Maybe he hates you so much that he can’t bear to stand you after last night. This brutal assumption was all you needed to get yourself to snap back into reality.

Before disappearing to get changed for work, you take one last glance at Miguel, who continues to ignore you. By the time you step out of your room to leave the apartment for work you find the kitchen empty.

You find a single bowl of cereal on the table that remains unfinished.

/

Exhausted, miguel steps into the apartment. He thinks it’s nearing 6pm by the time he arrives, taking a little longer than usual to return.

As soon as he shuts the door behind him he can hear your voice calling for him; a personal singsong just for him bouncing off the walls. After locking the door, he turns to hang up his coat before bending down to remove his shoes.

By the time he looks up again, you’re suddenly standing in front of him and for a second it feels like his breath is knocked out of his lungs.

And there you were. Stood in front of him with a cheesy smile across your lips, wearing a dress he’s never seen before. You tilt your head to one side, awkwardly fiddling with your hands as Miguel stares you down.

“Do you think it’s a little too much?”

You move your body a little, providing different angles of the dress. Immediately Miguel’s eyes are drawn to the way that your curves hug at the dress. His eyes are latched onto you, unblinking. As he stands in silence your mind turns into panic, taking it as a negative reaction. Maybe it’s not the right dress.

Your disappointment is more than obvious as you start to turn, heading back to your bedroom where a pile of clothes await your return. “You’re right, I think I should–”

“Perfect.”

Finally, the words leave his throat.

If the words ‘Will you be my Valentine?’ won’t fall from his lips then he makes sure that you’re able to hear this at least.

“It’s perfect.” He repeats, a little louder now. His body forces himself to blink now, eyes stinging at the image of you.

“Are you sure?” Your tone is apprehensive, unable to see the positive correlation between his reaction with his words. “Because I think I have a better dress–”

“No.” Miguel swallows thickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “I like this one, it looks good. Perfect.”

He likes it.

Relief crashes over you, all doubt washed away. His external validation was the only thing you needed.

“Really?”

Miguel’s patience was wearing thin at your disbelief, it took everything in him not to run up to you and mark you as his. It took everything in him not to run his hands all over your body, to ingest every feature, to worship it, to make love to it and provide you everything you had ever wanted.

God, he wanted nothing more but to prove to you that, yes, you looked fucking gorgeous, stunning even. If there was a moment where he wanted to kick himself in the balls for not asking you out sooner, the moment would be now.

“Really. Don’t change.”

He can’t tell whether this final validation was all you needed or whether his tone was finally believable to you but either way he’s satisfied that he has finally gotten through to you as a smile reaches for your lips.

“Thanks mig’. ” you mutter quickly, turning from him as fast as you could to hide the heat that now spread rapidly across your face. You say nothing more, disappearing as quickly as you had appeared, leaving him in a wondrous state.

/

“Think you’ll be okay?”

You don’t look up at him, too busy replying back to a message. He watches as your thumbs move across the small screen at lighting speed. “Yeah, yeah, he’s nearly here.” you mumble quietly. Unfortunately, you’re too preoccupied to notice the look of apprehension on Miguel’s face.

There’s something that gnaws at him completely. From the inside, just begging to be let out. He doesn’t know whether it’s a confession, his jealousy or anger at himself. He assumes that this feeling is a mix of all three.

He can tell that you're nervous, teeth softly biting down on your bottom lip, heels tapping the floor with impatience. If you weren’t holding your phone with two hands, he’d bet that you’d be biting at your nails. It takes everything in him not to grab you by the shoulders, forcing you to look at him and take a few deep breaths.

Soon enough, a ding is heard from your phone and he watches how your face lights up. All he can do is stand awkwardly as you tell him your date is here to pick you up. Miguel watches you as you make your way to the door, double checking your purse for anything that you may have forgotten.

A wish of ‘good luck’ dies in Miguel’s throat as you slip through the door, leaving him with nothing more than an echoed goodbye.

The second he hears the door lock behind you, a sigh seems to leave his lips. He can smell the lingering scent of a perfume that he had bought for you as a christmas present, a new favorite that you only wore on special occasions.

Silence now begins to torment him, his mind is jumping to conclusions. What if this one date will lead to a second date and then a third and then a tenth? Until eventually the day comes, when you announce that you’ll be moving out.

He’ll be left on his own, again.

And all that follows are bland text messages from you every now and again, checking up on him as a friend whilst he falls back into the shadows, forever stuck with the label of ‘roommate’.

The deafening silence continues to torture him, thoughts emerging to the idea of your date becoming the love of your life. It's completely stupid and useless to jump to this assumption but he can’t help it. He can’t help but tyrannize himself, his insecurity eating away his insides like vermin.

“Fuckin’ hell, you need to get yourself together.” He pinches the bridge of his nose, making his way over to the couch. He collapses with exhaustion, a groan leaving his body as he does so.

It takes him more than a few minutes to realize that he’s sitting in the same spot as last night. The only difference being is that there’s no pretty girl sitting between his thighs, eyes glowing at him with lust and desire. This single thought is enough to make him hard.

A curse or two is muttered under his breath as an uncontrollable bulge begins to grow in his pants. He really shouldn’t. But he does.

His fingertips run over his crotch as he reminisces about last night: the innocent look on your face, your shock at how big his cock was, your attempt to take him whole, desperately trying to fit him into that pretty little mouth of yours, and by god, it took everything in him not to keep you down there.

But that look, that glow almost dared him to. Your eyes silently expressed that this was all for him. Miguel lets out a groan, finally giving in to his needs, a hand slipping into his pants to free his aching cock from his boxers.

He gives slow, long strokes imitating what you had done yesterday. A quiet whimper leaves his throat, his thumb wiping away at the pre-cum at the crown of his length. He remembers the way his body shudders as you left tantalizing little circles at the tip of his cock, practically torturing him.

His thoughts drastically change from imagining your mouth teasing his cock to how he would tease your dripping cunt. He imagines how soaked you would be for him and wonders whether you were like this yesterday, when you were sucking him off, completely soaked through your panties.

Miguel lets out a groan at the mere thought, his hand now increasing the pace of his strokes. You’d be so tight, he thinks, so tight that your eyes would tear up at your cunt trying to take him whole. His cock would stuff every inch of you, your cunt clenching around him, your little whines persuading him to go deeper, trying to prove that you can take it all.

He wraps a tight fist around himself, pumping himself a little faster now, his breath hitched. His free hand grips at a pillow beside him, imagining that he was taking handfuls of your ass as he buried himself deeper into you. He’d start off slow, let you get adjusted to his size before building up a merciless pace.

Miguel imagines your body writhing beneath him, fingertips scratching at his back as he pleases you. Miguel begins to feel heat in his lower abdomen, his eyes are closed and brows are furrowed as he tries to focus on pornographic images of you in his mind. He imagines your whimpers, babbling to him about how good it feels. That’s all he wanted to do. Make you feel good.

“Please, please, please– fuck, don’t stop.”

Miguel’s thighs begin to tense, hips jerking slightly as he fists his cock. It feels too good to stop. It’s wrong but he can’t stop your name from escaping from his lips. He surrenders to the feelings of pleasure and complete euphoria. He feels the cord in his lower abdomen begin to snap away, desperate pleads echo off the walls as he cums, his seed spilling across his hand and lower abdomen.

Coming down from his climax, the realization of what he’s done crashes over him like a wave and suddenly he finds himself violently drowning. Drowning in a sea of his thoughts and his mistakes. Cruelly, he reminds himself that he can’t be saved and that he deserves to be alone. After all…

he has no one to blame but himself.

click here for part 3

[greenwriterplaidbow]

Human Connection

Part II

Last part, next part

Logan Howlett x Reader with injury related memory loss

Word count: 4.4k

A/N: Inspired by Pandapetals’ memory loss fic (taken over all by thoughts since I read it) as well as the song We’ll Never Have Sex by Leith Ross. Trust there will be more parts.

Warnings: a combination of angst and fluff, suggested feminine reader (called Logan’s wife) but no true descriptions, special appearance from some of the Xmen as coworkers because I love them and they’re all alive and well (but they do not necessarily follow canon)

Logan swears you are trying to stress him into a heart attack. He’s certain that at this rate, he is going to go gray by next week. He woke up alone. His arm was draped across your empty side of the bed. By the cool temperature of your sheets he guessed you’d been out of bed for a while. He jumped out of bed, panicked. He hurried out of the bedroom, glancing into the empty office before making his way to the kitchen where he found you sitting on the dining table with a bowl of cereal. You left the lights off, allowing the soft glow of the sunrise to light the room. There was music softly playing from the radio.

“You’re up!” His tense shoulders dropped as he sighed and let himself relax. Logan felt better noticing that you seemed genuinely happy to see him again.

“Yeah, I’m up.” He took another deep breath to calm himself. Once he had stopped panicking he took in the image of you. Although you hadn’t changed clothes, he guessed you had already gotten ready for the day as your hair looked more styled and you looked more awake. You aren’t sitting where you normally did but you unknowingly aren’t far off. You sat with the same breakfast you’d normally eat on a work day, cereal with granola. Logan thought it was strange how some things didn’t change.

“Is everything okay?” Your voice interrupts his thoughts.

“Yeah, I just wasn’t expecting you to be awake before me. Just got scared for a second. How’d you sleep?”

“..Good. I had weird dreams but I guess that’s to be expected when you have brain damage.. I think I slept better because you were there.” You admitted sheepishly.

“And I couldn’t help noticing that you wear dog tags even while you sleep.. Is that where we met? The military?”

“No. We.. No, that’s not where we met. I’m glad I could help you sleep- And you remembered which cereal is yours, that’s something.”

“No? I just know what I like?”

“Ah.. Yeah. Duh.” Logan put his hands over his face as he sighed again. “I’m going to go get ready.”

“Okay. I’ll be here.”

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

Logan washed up in the bathroom then went to get changed in the bedroom. When Logan came back a few minutes later, you were in the same place as promised but you had put away the cereal and placed your dishes in the dishwasher. He was wearing his unofficial uniform; a tank top under a flannel with jeans. You stood up and walked over as you saw him, going to pass him on your way to change into real clothes.

“Aw, and there goes your biceps” You say with an overdramatic pout to go with the mischief in your eyes. Your comment stopped him in the hall where he stood as he laughed at your words.

“What?”

“Don’t look at me like that! We’re married, I’m allowed to like the way you look.” Your face blushed pink at the slightest push back but, you were trying hard not to get flustered. He took a step closer to where you stood.

“I thought I was just a stranger right now? Now I get to go back to being your husband when I’m being objectified? Woww” His tone indicated that he was joking.

“Well legally- we are married, that doesn’t change with my memories. I just mention it because I assume you knew what you were getting into..” You took a step towards him but stayed close to the wall that was now behind you as you stood across from him.

“I did. But I usually don’t get complaints about covering up my arms so early in the day.. You are my wife, I’ll take it off if you want me to.” His voice dropped a little lower as he offered to remove his shirt. The warm pink blush quickly returned to your face. He laughed.

“I’ll admit, I didn’t know how much I missed being able to make you blush so easily.” He kissed your forehead before continuing into the kitchen. You stood there a moment before returning to your own task of going to the bedroom. You get changed and leave the room wearing loose clothes that you hope will irritate your stitches the least. A grey hoodie, with a symbol you didn’t recognize, over a t-shirt and dark sweatpants. When you re-enter the kitchen, Logan is in just his white tank top, flannel laying on the back of a chair. He sat in the chair across from where you sat minutes before him, reading more unbound papers while drinking coffee.

“You didn’t have to actually take it off-”

“Hm? Oh, I know. But now I know you’ll be lookin’ at me when I’m not wearing it.” And you were already blushing again.

“I probably won’t need it today anyways, it looks like it’ll be pretty nice today.” He was right, the sun was shining through a nearly cloudless sky. A contrast to yesterday’s gloom.

“Maybe we could go for a walk? At the hospital they said stuff like that is good for healing. You could show me the area more. If you want.”

“Sure, just let me know when you want to go. Speaking of healing, how are you feeling today?”

“Like I was hit by a truck.” You said with a deadpan expression.

“Well.. Yeah.” He pictured your small car, crumpled around the front of a stupidly large truck. The driver had apparently been drinking when he ran the red light. He didn’t even slow down. Logan had seen the wreckage before he met you at the hospital. The amount of blood in your car scared him. He felt like the scent of iron followed him all the way to your post-op bedside.

“What time do you have work? Where do you work anyways? Wait, where do I work?”

“Hm?” He snapped out of it. “Uh we’re both teachers. And I have a sub until you’re better.” After he said it you felt dumb for asking. He must be grading student essays.

“Ahh. That’s why- yeah okay. So you must teach English.”

“History.”

“Oh. You make them write papers for history?” You said, sitting down at the head of the table, in the chair kitty corner to his.

“Yes, it’s a better way to make sure they actually understand the events we talk about in class.”

“Well what class do I teach? Do I also force such cruel punishments on students?” He rolled his eyes in fake annoyance and ignored your last question.

“Some of the science electives. Anatomy, microscopy and immunology, and chemistry this year. Pretty much whatever science class student’s sign up for is what you teach.”

“Hm. Which grades?”

“Any grade level can take your classes but it’s mostly sophomores and up. You’re kind of known for being a tough professor.. They like you as a person but you’re a little hard on them at times.” He smiled at you as he said it but you didn’t find anything he said worth smiling at.

You laid your head down on your arms as you tried to picture yourself as a highschool teacher. Teaching seemed like the furthest thing from your skills and interests. Logan went back to grading for a few minutes until you spoke up again, shifting the topic.

“You shouldn’t be taking that much time off. I’ll be okay. You should be with your class.”

“They’re good kids, they’ll be fine. You’re more important- and you shouldn’t be alone right now. One of our friends is going to drop off more assignments for me to grade in a day or two so I won’t get too behind on that.” You still felt guilty. Intentionally or not, you were isolating him from his coworkers and friends. As you thought of his friends a face popped into your mind.

“Which friend? The red headed doctor?”

“What? You- you remember Jean!?” Logan looked up, shocked.

“Yeah, that’s her name. Jean Grey, right? And she’s married to that tall dorky guy.. I don’t remember his name but I know he has a brother- Alex Summers I think.”

“You remember! Is there.. Anyone else you remember?”

“No.. sorry. I just remember their names and faces. Nothing else specific.. Scott! That’s what it is. He has blue eyes but no one ever sees them because he has to wear that visor.” A pang of jealousy hit Logan. Of course you remember Scott before him.

“What? How do you know that?”

“I don’t know. Someone told me I think. Hmm.. Yeah I don’t know.” You shrugged.

“Huh.” Logan looked off, apparently lost in thought.

“Sorry- I think I cut you off. Which friend is bringing your papers?”

“Kurt Wagner. He offered to. He’s a good guy.” You nodded without lifting your head off your arms.

“You know, we could go pick up those papers. Everyone has been asking to see you, a lot of them visited you before you woke up. I’m sure they’d like to see that you’re doing well.”

“Umm, I don’t know. I don’t think it’s a good idea.. It’s just going to be uncomfortable, all these people I don’t know are going to want to be sad and touchy and asking how I am and if I remember them and I’ll just have to tell them that I don’t and they’ll give me sad looks just like you do. I can barely take one of you, I don’t know how I’ll cope with a whole group giving me that look.”

“What look?” Your hand comes up to his forearms and starts tracing shapes as you sit up.

“Just the way you look at me everytime I say I don’t remember you.. You look like you’re made of sand and if I repeat what I said you might just disintegrate.”

“Yeah? Well I promise I won’t. Don’t worry about whatever I’m feeling, you just worry about getting better. We don’t have to see them, it was just an idea. For what it’s worth, they’d still want to see you. Even like this. Your student’s probably miss you too.”

You shrug.

“Just think about it, alright? Oh it’s 9 o’clock, did you take your meds yet?” You give him a look and smile.

“Yes, mom” He laughs and playfully nudges you with his arm.

“Well someone’s got to take care of you.”

“Yeah? And who’s taking care of you?”

“.. normally you do. More than I deserve sometimes. But right now you just need to worry about yourself.”

You sigh as his words do little to calm your worry for him.

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

Eventually the two of you moved to the office. You spend several hours watching him grade at one of the desks. You pass the time by snooping in your stuff, reading, drawing, going on the internet. Always bringing your activity back to the second desk in the room, sitting across from Logan. It’s not until a while after lunch that you get bored enough to interrupt him.

“Do you want me to help you grade?”

“No, I’ve got it. Thank you though.”

“Alrightttt” You sigh out the word like you were disappointed.

“What?”

“Nothing, I’m just bored. Trying to find something productive I could do.”

“I can take a break, we could go for that walk now” You perk up at the idea of exploring.

“Yeah! Let’s do that!” Logan smiles at your excitement.

“Ok, I’ll finish this essay then we can go.”

“Woo! Alright, no rush.”

Within five minutes you’re getting your shoes on and heading out the door. You walk most of the way in silence. There wasn’t anything notable for him to point out to you. Logan walks next to you but is still definitely leading. The way you walked was cleared as if it was a trail that was walked often. It weaved through the woods around the neighborhood so you assumed it had to be walked by more than just you and Logan. There was a slight chill in the air that you could really feel when a breeze flowed through the trees. As it did you took the opportunity to grab Logan’s hand and cling slightly to his arm. He smiled down at you. He hated that you didn’t remember him but at least he got to watch you fall for him all over again.

“We should probably turn around here.”

“Wait, how long does the trail go this way?” Motioning towards the direction you had been walking.

“That’s another two miles that way, we’ve walked almost a half mile.”

“Come on, let’s just keep going this way. I feel fine and I want to see what’s this way-”

“Slow down, I don’t want you to over do it.”

“I won’t, I feel great! And increasing blood flow helps the healing process. I'd walk to Seattle if it meant I’d feel better sooner.”

“It only helps if you don’t pop your stitches or worse-”

“Eh, I’ll be fine.” You wave away his concerns, taking his arm again as you try to keep walking.

He gave in and let you pull him along until he catches up to where you are. You don’t make it more than 10 minutes before he feels your grip on his arm loosen. He looks over at you.

“You alright?” He says, concerned.

“Yeah, yeah. Just feel a little-” And you passed out.

You’re not out for more than a few seconds but it’s enough for him to decide you’re going home. Logan catches you and lowers you to the ground. He checks your pulse as you regain consciousness. Seeing that you’re at least alive, Logan scoops you up and starts carrying you back home. You put an arm around his back to feel secure.

“Sorry..”

“I know.”

“Mm you’re so strong” You blurted out, suddenly noticing how easy it looked for him.

“Thanks.”

“..I promise I’ll do better tomorrow, I’ll listen and I won’t push myself so hard.”

“Even if you do, I’ll still be here to carry you home.”

“I’m sorry I can probably walk on my own-”

“Really, it’s okay. I don’t mind, lifting you is a piece of cake.” He secretly loved the closeness that carrying you provided.

“You promise?”

“Promise. I could even do it one handed if I wasn’t scared of dropping you.”

“Okay.. I believe you.”

He carried you all the way back to the door before he let your feet touch the ground again. You both went inside and took off your shoes. The second yours were off he was picking you up again and carrying you up the stairs.

“Ah! You don’t have to-”

“You fainted, I don’t want to hear any complaining about how I take care of you.”

That was enough to quiet you until he set you down in bed.

“Thank youuu” You said with a sing-songy tone.

“You’re welcome. Just sleep for a while. If you need anything else, you know where to find me darlin.” You nod. Both of you were too focused on each other to notice the pet name that slipped into the conversation unconsciously.

His broad frame hovers over you, hands on the bed on either side of you.

“You sure you're okay?” He whispered.

“Mhm.” You nodded.

A hand met his chest as you sat up to press a kiss to his cheek. His expression shifted from worried to heartbroken as you pulled away. He shifted to put his forehead against yours. You could feel his breath lightly on your lips. Finally, he wordlessly pulled away, the sorrowful look stayed on his face. Neither of you spoke up as he left the room.

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

You awoke to the feeling of a large hand stroking your cheek. Curious, you stayed still. Your face felt cold as he disconnected from you and walked towards the door, closing it as he left. Your muscles still ached as you shifted to sit up and forced your eyes open. It was darker in the room than you expected. You rubbed your face and took a deep breath. You glanced to your nightstand to check the time only to find it obstructed. There was a big mug sitting on a potholder. Chopsticks lay on top of the rim. There was a note on the corner of the nightstand. You picked it up. The beautiful flowing calligraphy surprised you.

Don’t go arguing about how I didn’t have to make something for you, it’s just ramen, nothing fancy so I don’t want to hear any of your complaining later. I don’t want to wake you up so when you’re up, let me know if you want anything else or if it’s cold and I’ll heat it up. You should just be resting. Kurt is bringing over the papers for me later so don’t be startled if you hear talking. - Logan

You mentally read the note in his voice, adding the attitude you imagine he was giving you through the note. You rolled your eyes and picked up the warm mug.

You were halfway done with your food when you heard someone knock at the front door. Then you heard talking. Logan’s voice you recognized but the other man had a thick accent, German it sounded like. You listened to the two of them as they talked quietly down the hall. You couldn’t make out most of it but it sounded like Logan kept denying whatever request the other man made.

Curiosity got the better of you and despite Logan’s expressed wishes, you got out of bed and hesitantly opened the bedroom door to venture out to where they were talking. You saw the blue man first, his appearance admittedly surprised you. Logan had his back to you so the other man saw you before Logan heard you.

“There she is, how are you?” He pushed Logan aside to talk to you more directly.

“I’m alright.. Sorry- I don’t remember you quite yet, I’m not sure if Logan told you..”

“Ja, he did.” He stepped closer and put a hand on your shoulder, you didn’t pull away. “I am Kurt Wagner. We are good friends-” Logan cut him off.

“What happened to resting?”

“Eh, I can rest later. I wanted to see what you kept saying no to.”

“Well, I wanted to pray over you. Logan said you wouldn't want me to do it while you were asleep.”

“Yeah honestly that would be a little invasive, I’m not particularly religious.”

“Oh I know, you’re the only Xmen who still talks theology with me! Even after all this time. You usually don’t mind when I pray for you”

“Sure but it’s different when it’s in the same room as me and I’m asleep.” You shrugged.

“I suppose. We’re just worried about you. I’m glad I can tell the team you’re well.”

“Yeah go tell them that, you should go back to the mansion now.” He turned to you for a moment. “And you should go back to bed. Thank you again for the papers.”

“Ah alright. Gute nacht, mein freund.”

“Good night Kurt. It was good to meet you.. again I guess.” He gently pulled you in for a hug which you reciprocated. You smiled at him as you both pulled away.

He turned around and said something quietly to Logan. You took that as your signal to return to your room. You kept the light off, hoping the darkness would help the headache you felt coming on. You sat on the edge of the bed and ate your noodles. By the time Logan returned, your empty mug sat in the same spot it started in and you laid with your legs hanging off the bed.

“What’d you think?” You sat up as he asked.

“Of Kurt?” He nodded. “I like him. He seems nice. I feel like I liked him before. He feels.. Comfortable. I don’t know how to describe it.. Did you get the papers you wanted?”

“Wanted isn’t the word I’d use.. but yeah, I got them. He brought some of your assignments too if you feel up to grading. I’m sure I can find your answer key on your computer, you’re pretty organised.”

“Yeah at some point I’m sure I’ll want to. I don’t think I’d be able to focus enough to do it tonight though.”

“You don’t have to- You just seem bored so I thought you might like something to do.”

“Thank you, I appreciate it. I probably will when my headache goes away.”

“You’ve got a headache? I think you can take more pain meds pretty soon-”

“Two hours, I checked.”

“Ah. Sorry.” He finally moved to sit down on the bed next to you.

“I’ll live.”

“Is there anything I can do?” You shook your head.

“Not unless you can un-traumatize my brain” You said with a smile.

“Not last time I checked.” He pulled you in and kissed your temple. “I would if I could.”

“I know.” You leaned into him.

You stayed like that in his arms for a while. You moved back and angled yourself to see his face better. You looked into his eyes. Your hand reached up to his face and you lightly scratched at his scruff.

“You’re sweet.” His expression was soft as he looked at you. As you looked at him, a wave of emotions washed over you as you allowed yourself to remember your situation. Your own expression shifted suddenly from an appreciative look to an emotional one.

“I want to remember you, I do. I’m trying to but..” You gestured and shrugged as tears started to roll your face. “I got nothin’. I’m really sorry- I can see how hard this is for you and I don’t mean to be a problem. I’m trying not to be difficult. I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be. None of this is your fault. None of it. It kills me that you blame yourself. You’re not difficult or a problem or any of that nonsense. You’re my wife. In sickness and in health right? Even if you never remember me, even if you never remember us; I’m always going to be here for you.” You could see the tears welling up in his eyes.

“Don’t worry about forcing yourself to remember, I just want you to be healthy. You could have died that night.. I’m just glad you’re alive.”

You nod but look away.

“Maybe you don’t care if I remember, but I do. I hate feeling like this.”

“Yeah I know. I understand more than you know. Your memories will come back.”

“I’m glad you’re an optimist.”

“I’m not, usually that’s your role.”

“Well thanks for filling in.” You forced a small smile.

“Yeah I figured you were being sad and depressing enough for the both of us.” His smile was a little more genuine than yours. You rolled your eyes at him and nudged him with your arm.

“That’s one thing that surprised me.”

“What?”

“Just- The things that are different, the things that didn’t change. It's just.. I don’t know. You’re different.” You sniffled and grabbed two tissues from the box on your nightstand, handing one to Logan. You took a breath before speaking.

“Yeah well. Experiences shape who we are, right? And I have almost no memories. That changes a person. This is just who I was before you.. Like seeing a ghost I guess. It’s a good thing really. It means I’ve grown as a person. That’s what I’m going to tell myself at least.” You paused for a moment while deciding if you wanted to know the answer to your question.

“..Bad different?”

“..No. But I can’t lie to you.. I do miss the you who knows me.”

“I’m sure. Like I said. In a way, you’re mourning a loss.”

“Yeah.. Yeah..” He sighed quietly.

“I should get back to grading for a bit. If you want to go back to sleep, I can wake you when you have to take more meds.”

“No, I’ll sit with you. I don’t think I could sleep now anyways.”

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

A few hours later you find yourselves in bed again. Tonight you stayed on your own side but his arm reached across your midsection. It was clear to you that he just needed the connection. He just needed to know you were there.

“You can come over here and cuddle with me, if you want. You don’t just have to keep your arm stretched out like that.. Seems uncomfortable.”

“It’s actually not as uncomfortable as it looks” His voice was half muffled by a pillow. “I will hold you again if you want me to, I’m not trying to avoid you. I just get hot. I’m not used to wearing this much to bed unless it’s winter.” You shifted to turn towards him more as it became a ‘real conversation.’

“Oh. You’re just wearing them for me?”

“Yeah, I figured it would make you uncomfortable.”

“It’s your bed too, do what makes you comfortable.. Um. just maybe don’t be completely naked.. Please.”

The tone of his voice told him he was amused at your request.

“Yes ma’am.”

You heard him shift in the darkness, saw his silhouette moving against dim light that slipped through the curtains. When he returned to your shared bed, you immediately felt his large arms pull you towards him. You were suddenly glad it was dark as you blushed feeling his bare flesh against you. Part of it felt scandalous. Part of it felt poetic. You were completely clothed; covered by soft, baggy, navy colored fabric. While he was nearly entirely exposed. He was completely vulnerable. In your mind the last few days have felt the opposite. You’re completely vulnerable to him. He knows things about you that you don’t. And yet, to you he’s a stranger; aside from what little you’ve found out about him. It wasn’t his fault. He couldn’t make up for years of marriage, and even before that, years of close friendship. Not in only a few days. Or you could see it from another way, he was emotionally open to you, in a way you couldn’t be with him. Try as you might, you couldn't make yourself love him. Not in the way he deserved. Not the way he loved you. That kind of love only came with time and the threat of losing it.

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

Tags: @kemi707 @klwrites @fluff-lover @a-leg-without-fear @aoi-targaryen @vofriviasblog @jupiter-sky @crypt1dcat @karencaribou

[amazinglyegg]

What the companions would make you if they had access to a kitchen:

Cait

I'm thinking a nice stir-fry or rice with a shit ton of vegetables and PROTEIN

Of course she loves her protein

Hmm or maybe a lasagna. Nice and dense.

Whatever she makes, there'll be enough of it to go around

She gives off food insecurity to me so I feel like she prefers to take her food and eat alone most days

But you WILL have a shitton of leftovers!

Codsworth

A nice breakfast spread like what you'd see in movies.

French toast, eggs (sunny side up or your preference if he knows it), bacon, several options of cereal in those little fancy cereal dispensers, pancakes or waffles depending on your preference, fresh fruit laid out...

And of course a glass of orange juice

He wants nothing more than for you (and anyone else you're sharing the meal with) to sit down and enjoy while he cleans the dishes and helps out

Just like old times <3

Curie

Baking time!!!!

Cookies are her go-to

Does that thing where you use your thumbprint to make a heart shape and fills it with jam

They come out perfect every time. She leaves them out on a plate and they're gone within a minute

Just be warned she might eat the cookie dough. Would definitely make edible cookie dough just to eat it raw at like 1am

Danse

He's a protein shake and plain hard boiled eggs type of guy

He wouldn't make you a meal, but would mealprep your entire week for you

(It's just plastic tupperware of boiled eggs and like, one whole carrot)

If he HAD to make an actual warm meal it'd probably look exactly like Brotherhood rations

Mashed potatos, plain crackers, and some vague meat in sauce

Deacon

This man lives like he will be killed via sniper if he ever expresses a genuine feeling

So as much as I'd like to say he'd make a meal that's really important to him, he'd probably just grab the nearest cookbook and pick a random recipe

Not even he knows what it's gonna be like until it's made

He also doesn't want to be associated with a certain meal so he'll only make it once or twice. If you want it again then YOU have to cook it!

If he's completely alone and just making something for himself, then maybe a nice sandwich or sub

I don't know why but he just gives off sandwich vibes

Dogmeat

Can't cook

He would, however, oversee the situation and taste test when needed

Gage

Grill dad

He'd make like, ribs and baked potatoes. Nice and filling and also pretty damn messy

Not too big on vegetable but he'd also grill like, corn on the cob or maybe some skewers

Chicken wings perhaps???

Maccready

Weird food combinations is this man's bread and butter (or bread and ketchup)

He WILL hand you a turkey sandwich with ketchup and potato chips in it. And it will taste good.

Or like, steak sushi. Spaghetti on pizza. Mayo dumplings?

He can make basically anything, but he just has some really weird preferences

If you can get over the strangeness it's actually pretty decent

Nick

Toast and black coffee <3

That's it

I mean like he'll make you tea or something if you don't like coffee

Pre-war Nick always had toast and coffee for breakfast in the morning so it's nostalgic to him

Old Longfellow

"Oh he'd make a fish based meal" NO. He lives next to the water he's probably SO DAMN TIRED OF FISH

Chicken noodle soup maybe, but like high quality chicken noodle soup with some nice spices

Or maybe a pot roast??

Piper

Weirdly enough, as much as she loves sweets I feel like she'd be a much better cook than a baker

She'd make a nice well rounded meal with protein, carbs, 1-2 vegetables. Gotta make sure Nat's eating well

Not huge on spices though. Like your mashed potatoes will be buttery and smooth as fuck but you're limited to like basic box gravy and maybe salt and pepper.

I feel like she can and will make an entire turky dinner. Just out of nowhere. There's like 7 different sides and an apple pie Curie made.

Preston

Oh this man will make a MEAN stew

It's his go-to. He can share it if needed, have leftovers to feed himself for multie days, and it's versatile

I'm thinking either radstag or brahmin meat, or maybe a bone stock, but in the past he's made stews out of basically anything, from bugs to deathclaw meat

He also has a soft spot for campfires and would love to roast marshmallows or cook hotdogs or something around a fire

X6-88

Grabs an apple for himself and leaves.

The Institute eats SUPPLEMENT PACKETS there is NO WAY this man knows how to cook

He's probably a picky eater too, and he only likes those packets

He's gonna be living off a diet of applesauce and ensure for a long while

Honestly he might enjoy taking his food (any food) and putting it in a blender. It fixes the sensory aspect of it.

[rogueddie]

When Steve wakes up, he is very confused. His room looks very different and unfamiliar- but he knows it's his. It still has the plaid wallpaper his mom had picked out for him (he hadn't liked it, but there was a lot of lines and pretty colors).

The toy car his babysitter, Sarah, had gotten him for his fifth birthday isn't on his dresser anymore. He knows that she'd left it there for him last night, playfully insisting that he couldn't play with it until his actual birthday.

He'd been so excited to play with it. He wants to cry, and wail. He wants to run to his parents and scream until they give it back.

But they aren't home. That's why his babysitter had been over the previous night. They have a very important business trip that they aren't allowed to miss, not even for Steve's birthday.

The pictures in the hall look different too. Sarah had put up some cool pictures for him. She'd done the same for his fourth birthday. They had to take them down at the end of the day, but it had been nice to have family pictures up. Even if it was just for a day.

Sarah isn't downstairs.

He almost does scream this time. She'd promised that she'd stay the night, sleeping on the sofa, so he could have pancakes for breakfast. It's one of the many things that he can't, or isn't allowed, to make on his own.

His cake isn't in the fridge either. He even pulls a chair over so he can climb on it, to see if she'd hidden it on one of the higher shelves.

He sits on one of the dining chairs, watching the clock, and waiting.

After two hours pass, he gives up any hope he has.

Sarah, just like his parents, is probably too busy for him. He reasons that she probably just forgot to tell him. His mom had done that one time- it had stung, but he couldn't blame her. He forgot lots of stuff, even if it is important.

The only cereal in the pantry is some plain, corn brand that he doesn't recognise. It tastes just as bad as it looks, but there isn't a lot of food anymore.

At least, not a lot that he can make.

He has a second bowl, putting a few spoons of sugar in. It's not much better, but he doesn't feel so hungry anymore.

The TV looks different too. There's weird and new things playing. It's fun, interesting, and distracts him well enough that he's able to keep himself from worrying about how long he'll have to be alone again.

The next day goes the same.

The third day, he risks cooking. It ends up a little burnt, but it's better than cereal all the time.

The fourth day, he can't eat the food he tries to cook. It smells too nasty. He has to have cereal again. The sugar helps.

The fifth day, he doesn't risk cooking. His parents have never left him alone, without a babysitter, for more than a week, so he'll have a nice meal soon.

The sixth day, he checks their voicemail. There's a few odd messages from grown up sounding people, asking about how he's feeling, but he doesn't recognise any of their voices. He doesn't know what numbers he should try calling. He hopes they try calling again.

The seventh day, he sits at the bottom of the stairs. He stares at the front door, ready to jump up and give his mom and dad a warm welcome home.

The eighth day, he's starting to worry. Surely his parents will remember to call a different babysitter?

The ninth day, there's a key in the door. He almost misses it, sat in the kitchen, glaring at his cereal.

"Steve!" Someone calls. It sounds like one of the nice, unfamiliar grown ups who left a voicemail message. "Stevie! You here? How are- oh my god."

"Hi," Steve greets. He waves, tries giving his most polite smile. He almost forgets to keep his lips shut- his dad told him that his teeth don't look nice enough for a grin that big yet. "You're one of the nice people who left me a message, right?"

She stares at him for a long moment, mouth hanging open. "Steve?"

"That's me! What's your name?"

"Robin."

He sticks a hand out to her. "I's nice to meet you Miss Robin!"

"Yeah," she replies, voice high and thin. Her hand is trembling when she gently shakes his hand. "I'm... gonna need to use your phone. Real quick, ok?"

"Um... ok. But you can't make long distance calls, mommy will be very mad at me." He bites his thumb nail, following her into the hall. "Are you a babysitter? Is Sarah sick?"

"Sarah?" Robin echoes, questioningly. She's only half paying attention though, pushing in a phone number.

"My babysitter. She was supposed to be here for my birthday."

"It's your birthday?" She chokes out, spinning around so fast she stumbles. She looks heartbroken.

"Not anymore! It's ok, you don't need to be sad. She gave me my present early too, so it was good."

"Wait. How long have you been... what have you been eating?"

"Um. Cereal, mostly. All the food is different. It's weird."

"That's not- oh, hi," she turns away slightly, talking to whoever is on the phone. "Yeah, I'm at Steve's right now. Gather, like, everyone. We have a major emergency."

"No!" Steve quickly says. He tugs at the bottom of her top. "Not an emergency! You can't say that, you'll get me in trouble!"

"You don't understand, this is-"

"No, please," he pleads. He can only hope he won't get in trouble for talking back to her. "I'm sorry."

"Ok, ok, alright," she agrees. She pauses for a second, listening. "No, that was Steve. Yeah, exactly, that's why-"

"Tell them it isn't an emergency. Please. If dad hears, I'll be in big trouble."

"Ok, big guy. It's not an emergency. Just... yeah, do that. Yeah. Alright. No, I'll be fine. I can deal with it. Ok, see you soon."

She hangs up with a sigh, turning to look at him. She still looks sad.

"Are you ok, Miss Robin?"

Her laugh sounds strained, but she laughs. "I'm alright. How are you?"

"I'm ok. Do you know when mommy and daddy will be back?"

"I don't. I'm sorry, Stevie."

"It's ok. It's only, like... I can't really, uh, cook."

"I can make you something. What's your fave? It was your birthday, you said? Let's get you something special! How old are you?"

He stumbles a little, trying to keep up with her fast talking as well as he long strides. "I'm five. Sarah was going to make me pancakes."

"We can do pancakes." She searches the cupboards and fridge, frowning. "Where is anything?"

"I dunno. I looked but everything is all gone or weird."

"Well... we'll just have to have pancakes later. Special pancakes, for the special birthday boy."

"I guess."

She steps close, putting her hands on her hips as she looks him over. "Are you sure you're five? Did you hit your growth spurt early? You're getting real big."

"I dunno. Mommy says I'm gonna be tall and be a real ladies man, or something."

"Do you even know what that means?"

"Not really. Mommy thinks it's cool though."

"Hm. Are you too big to pick up?"

"Oh, you're not supposed to. Daddy says I'm a big boy now. Big boys don't get picked up."

"Your dad's an asshole."

Steve giggles, quickly covering his mouth with both hands. "You're not supposed to say that! It's a naughty word!"

"Supposed to do this, supposed to do that," she tutts. She leans down, scooping him up into her arms, resting him on her hip. "Your five, stop being so boring!"

Her hand feels so big on his back, like there's no way he could fall with her holding him. She doesn't even seem to mind his hand automatically grabbing the collar of her shirt.

"Daddy doesn't like it when people pick me up."

"What do you like? Hm? Do you want me to put you down?"

"... No."

"Then I'm not putting you down. Daddy isn't here to tell us off, is he? And what he doesn't know, can't hurt him."

She bounces him a few times, making him giggle. Judging by her satisfied grin, that was her aim.

It confuses him, a little. Mostly because she keeps doing that- little things, little comments, trying to make him laugh. Trying to make him smile. Even just listening to him talk about things. Little things. Silly things. Like she isn't annoyed when he goes on, and on, and on.

By the time another person comes in, he's decided that she's the best person in the whole wide world. If she puts him down or tries to leave, he's going to throw a tantrum.

He knows it's bad, but he doesn't want her to leave too. She's cool.

"Oh, God. Robin, please tell me that the baby isn't Steve."

"He's five," Robin corrects. "And yes, it's Steve. I checked, it's him."

"What the hell happened to him?"

"I don't know, I called you!"

"Is something wrong with me?" Steve asks, voice quiet and timid.

"No!" Robin quickly tries to say, at the same time the man says, "yes, obviously."

"Dustin!" Robin scolds.

"What? Lying to him won't help!"

"Neither will being a dick about it!" She tutts at him, adjusting Steve in her arms when she looks to him. "It's nothing, like, bad. It's just kinda weird. See, when we saw you, a week ago... you were a little bit older than me. And now you're five."

Steve stares at her for a moment. She looks too serious, too honest.

"Weird," he says.

"Exactly," she agrees. "From what you've said, though, it's not that bad. You're still you, and you're healthy. You're just... not so big."

"Maybe El can fix him," Dustin mutters, squinting at Steve. He leans close. "When did this happen?"

"He's been like this for a week," Robin tells him. Her voice is quiet, almost scared- it doesn't help that Dustin looks horrified too. "At least."

"Who's been taking care of him?"

"No one."

"What the hell," Dustin turns his frown on Steve. "Why didn't you call anyone?"

"Not supposed to unless it's a real emergency," Steve says. "Mommy says she has a repo... rep... rep-yuh-tay-shun. It's a big thing."

Dustin looks heartbroken, turning to Robin, who shrugs back at him. He groans after a pause, frowning at Robin. "Shit. You can't drive."

"Oh, shit."

"I'll call Eddie," Dustin sighs, already heading to the hall.

"Who's Eddie?" Steve asks.

"Eddie's a friend. He looks a little scary, but don't worry. He's a big softie, an absolute teddy bear." She leans close, whispering loudly with a grin. "Don't tell him I told you, though. He likes to pretend that he's all tough and mean."

"And he's... not mean?"

"Not a cruel bone in his body."

"Ok," he bites at his thumb, frowning when Robin gently pulls his hand out his mouth. "You won't leave though, right?"

"I'm not going anywhere."

"You gotta promise, though! Pinky Promise!" He lifts a hand, sticking his pinky up- Robin almost immediately wraps her own around his.

"I promise I won't leave you. Who knows what could happen if I leave you alone with the gremlins." She pretends to shudder. "Oh, the horrors.."

"He'll be here in five minutes," Dustin announces.

"That's... quick."

"Yeah. I barely got out 'Steve is in trouble' before he hung up."

"Maybe don't start like that next time," Robin rolls her eyes. She adjusts Steve again, trying to sit him higher on her hip. "He's probably breaking at least, like, five speeding laws or something."

"I don't think that's how it works."

"Whatever." She huffs. "Jesus. Steve, bud, I might need to put you down for a sec."

"Oh... um... do you have to?"

"My arms are really starting to hurt, bud," she says. She looks as upset at the idea as he feels. "Maybe we could sit down together. Would that be a good compromise?"

"Yeah!" He grins. "What's a comp- compa-"

"Com-pruh-mise." She says it slowly, careful to sound it out, as she sits down on the sofa. She pulls Steve around so he's sat on her knees, facing her. She keeps one hand on his back, supporting him.

"Com-pa-mise," Steve repeats.

"Oh, that was great!" Robin encourages, laughing at how big and excited Steves responding grin is. "Well, compromise is when..."

Robin is so patient with him, taking her time with him, making sure he understands what she's saying- before easily jumping onto whatever tangent he brings up.

It feels like only a few minutes have passed by the time the doorbell rings. Dustin stands to answer- Steve had completely forgotten he was there the whole time, too caught up in his conversation with Robin.

He doesn't come back for a moment. Steve can hear muttering, straining to hear what they're saying, but the living room doors shut.

A man follows him inside. He's tall, with long hair and dark clothes. He looks different to anyone Steve has ever seen before. He looks scary.

"Oh god," he mumbles, frowning at Steve. "You're not joking."

Steve tugs at Robins sleeve, leaning close to her, whispering, "who's that?"

"Oh, right!" Robin groans when she stands, lifting Steve with her. "Steve, this is Eddie. Eddie, this is Steve."

"This is Steve," Eddie repeats. "Jesus Christ."

"Why do you look so scary?" Steve blurts out. He slaps a hand over his mouth, horrified.

But Eddie just laughs. "Damn, Stevie, tell me what you really think."

"You do!" Steve snaps, face warming. "All the black and chains and stuff."

"Robin is wearing 'black and chains and stuff'."

"Yeah, but Robins cool."

"You wound me," Eddie gasps, slapping a hand to his chest. "I'm totally cooler than Robin."

"Nope," Robin quickly cuts in. "Steve said I'm cool, not you. It's been said, declared- no, decreed! Facts are facts, Eds, suck on it!"

"Ew," Steve and Eddie say in sync, grimacing.

"Alright," Dustin interrupts, hands on his hips. "You're introduced, now can we go? Now?"

Part two

[monayen]

how about something sfw for a change? can you do a ranking of who’s best at cooking?

Cooking Headcannons

➷ Paring - Multi x Fem!Reader [Randal's Friends / Ranfren]

➷ CWs - very light mention of consuming blood and cannibalism. that’s about it !!

a/n - i feel like im a bit rusty at pure sfw stuff… but i will try for NNN ~_~ this isn’t a ranking, since a good chunk are either just bad or barely cook. mostly just hcs about food they like, what’d they’d make you, and habits etc. ratmen are excluded cus you know those boys scavenge rather than cook !!! also ignore any mistakes i wrote this really fast

Sebastian

While Sebastian did work at a pizza place for a bit before becoming Randal’s pet, it was just as a delivery boy

I like to think he was in the training process of learning how to make the food, but he got lost before he learned anything skillful. He does have half the recipe for garlic knots memorized though 

A personal hc is that his parents were semi-absent with him (which probably helped lead him to being in the adoption center in the first place), so he survived a lot on sandwiches and microwave meals since they were easy and available

He wasn’t a big fan of it then, but now he craves them a lot. His favorite were the microwaveable kraft dinner mac & cheese cups. Foods like that are a comfort for him, and he’ll love you forever if you manage to get some for him to eat

Luther doesn’t trust him in the kitchen, so even if Sebastian wanted to cook, he wouldn’t be allowed. Deep down, he doubts his cooking skills anyways

Randal

A terrible cook. He has no idea how to properly prepare a meal and his attempts often end in disaster

Randal doesn't understand the concept of recipes or following instructions. He just throws random ingredients together and hopes for the best. “How to Basic” levels of culinary skills

Despite his terrible cooking skills, Randal still insists on trying to make meals for people (or you) to try. Truly believes he's good and everyone else just can’t handle his exquisite tastes

Once, Randal tried to make surprise pancakes for breakfast. He used baking powder instead of baking soda and the pancakes turned out hard as rocks. He still ate them anyway, breaking a couple of his teeth in the process. Don’t worry, they grew back by supper

He used to try to cook at least a couple times a week, but Luther banned him after he 

somehow managed to set water on fire on the stove. Now he’s restricted to just the microwave. Which is alright, just remind him to add the water in his instant noodles before they explode

Randal will also eat almost anything if it's covered in enough sauce or condiments. He's been known to put ketchup on his cereal and maple syrup on his pizza. Swears by it, will probably make you try all his weird food combinations

Satoru

This little show off!

Cooks and bakes purely to give it away to you or Randal. He doesn’t even eat them himself, always insisting you try his new recipe

The reality is that he steals most of his ideas from cookbooks. While he has the skill to execute them, coming up with his own dishes and perfecting them is a bit beyond him—but that’s a secret he keeps to himself!

He’ll sit there, watching closely as you eat his carefully prepared food, studying your reactions and asking if it’s good, like a chef waiting for feedback

But he’s memorized what you like already, and he makes sure to tailor his dishes just for you, hoping to earn your praise when the flavors hit your tongue

Exceptional at chopping, so fast at it you worry he’ll cut a finger off or something if he’s not careful enough. A part of him doesn’t mind if you taste something that has a little bit of his blood in it…

Doesn’t exactly have a favorite meal or food, he likes whatever you like :) is a bit partial to Japanese cuisine though, especially sashimi

Nyon

Nyon's cooking skills are quite limited. As a catman, his preferences lean more towards raw meats and simple  foods. Or whatever Luther gives him

Doesn’t mean he doesn’t like a good home cooked meal, but if you put him in a kitchen with every ingredient and tool that could potentially make something avant-garde or delicious… he’d probably just end up making hard boiled eggs

He does have an odd skill of picking though. Pickled cucumbers, onions, beets, all in unlabeled, merky, mason jars. Has a goal to pickle everything that can be pickled, just to try

Keeps a stash of it in the pantry and munches on them when he gets high. Will share if you ask (he kinda wants you to, pickling takes practice!) 

Nyon has the stance that he’d much rather wash the dishes and put away the ingredients than actually prepare the food, as it’s a lot of effort and stress on his part that’d he’d rather avoid

Nyen

Really only ever cooks for himself. Not a fan of sharing and to be honest… you probably wouldn’t like what he makes anyways

Lots of slabs of undercooked chicken and beef, barely seasoned because “it doesn’t need that.” Protein buff, but not keen on eating beans… or eggs… or fish… Okay, usually just eats chicken to maintain his muscles

Unironically picky, doesn’t eat a lot of what isn’t what he usually eats. If you give him a plate of pasta or something, he’ll just stare at it like you handed him a severed cow head. Even Luther knows this, making sure he keeps the fridge stocked with Nyen favorite foods so he’s in the best condition to get through the day!

Does have a small sweet tooth, so you can coax him into baking if he’s in a good mood. His favorite are raspberry muffins :)

You still might have to do most of the work, but he’ll mix shit and keep track of the dessert in the oven for you. Don’t ask him for anything else—just hand him a muffin and clean up the mess, okay?

Luther

Quite the chef! 

He’s domestic, and even though Randal always begs him to get fast food to eat, he always prefers to make something at home

Uses “passed down” recipes. Passed down from who? Who knows. He keeps them all in a little old notebook, pages yellowed and worn out. The last ingredient in all the recipes is always “love ♡”

He’s also a big fan of those southern mom baking shows, especially during the holiday season, he’ll bake like a madman!

Likes nature, so he does have a small garden in the backyard of the house he’ll tend to when he has the time. Specializes in exotic vegetables you probably aren’t used to eating. Ask him how his kohlrabi harvest is going, he’s quite proud!

The type of humanoid to surprise you with your favorite meal after a long day. Makes enough for everyone, of course, but Luther puts in effort to see the smile on your face when he presents you with it at the dinner table

He does expect compliments after you eat any of his food, even if it’s something as simple as scrambled eggs. It means a lot to him, so don’t forget to do so. He might take it the wrong way if you don’t 

Luther swears up and down that he’d never eat a human. Cannibalism is wrong! But he did get very close to once… just to “expand his pallet”

[certifiedlesbianvampire]

CAN THEY COOK?- project: eden's garden cooking headcanons

detailed explanation for each placement, starting from "let them cook" to "do not let them in a kitchen unsupervised." everything's below the cut:

LET THEM COOK

-ingrid and eloise have big families and they have siblings, so it only makes sense they can cook well. desmond's mom and dad run a chain restaurant, so i feel like he'd be a good cook by proxy. -if there are people you trust to take you to a good restaurant, i feel like it'd be wenona, toshiko, and jean. partially vibes based but wenona would know when those ingredients are good and fresh, toshiko would appreciate expensive but also simple and affordable meals and jean has enough experience around his crew to understand how people's palates differ (as well as having tried a variety of dishes) -grace is an athlete. she will have her "cheat days" but other than that she is DEDICATED. veggies and grains before playing and protein after. i feel like she'd hate those weird health shakes though. she makes and breaks the rules as she wishes

-kai is the type of guy who strikes me as someone who is a good cook. there are a few dishes he can make off the top of his head and they're probably all specific internet dishes (i.e. pancakes, breakfast bowl, veggie pasta... myriad of drinks etc.) buttt i think if you asked him to just fry an egg he'd somehow burn it.

-damon's parents probably taught him how to cook as a life skill and also as #bondingtime. he'd probably know how to make some traditional japanese dishes but like i also feel like he gets a bit lazy with cooking sometimes (either because he's too locked in studying or he's just tired). so like, a bowl of cereal or a boiled egg and plain toast and a banana. i like to think kai and co. bring him to restaurants or cook with him so it's easier.

-diana, diana, diana. if you believe that she is italian then i do think she could cook some great italian food. but in all honesty i feel like half of her meals are things you don't have to cook (as in over a stove or in an oven). diana 100% is a baker though. she is the type of person to bring freshly baked brownies for the class. i headcanon she, ingrid, toshiko and eloise help her out.

What the hell, sure.

-i am so hard pressed to believe these guys eat enough veggies.

-all busy + don't feel like cooking + it's faster to take out food. once in a while they will cook but it is rare. their food is edible to them and that's all that matters

-cassidy is a MENACE on the grill though (proof? that one eden's island promotional art). ask her to fucking grill anything and she will DELIVER. same goes with jett but i believe cassidy is the better grill dad here

-this is a joke but why can I see jett, cassidy and mark going to restaurants guy fieri style

DO NOT LET THEM COOK

-i feel like eva is the type of person to be like "i can cook" but she ABSOLUTELY cannot. you'll be in the kitchen with her and she would be too embarrassed to admit she can't despite the fact she is continuously failing. she gets the hang of it after a while -wolfgang doesn't know how to do his own laundry so i assume he can't cook (bc he spent all his time studying as a kid) -if you asked ulysses if he could cook he'd be like "sort of?" he can follow a recipe, but if something goes wrong he panics a bit. i think he forgets to feed himself sometimes -i think tozu would make a mean shepard's pie (pun not intended). i feel like he likes french food. while he jokes about british food he finds it very unexciting and bland. he is genuinely a good cook but would absolutely troll you by putting a "secret ingredient" in his food (i.e. putting pineapple in lasagna) unfortunately, this would be ineffective on someone like kai or eva who like "weirder" food combos

[anylady-fics]

Wicked game | Ch.4 - Back door

⚠️ warnings: smut

Jeongin was already awake, you could hear him moving around through the thin walls while you stayed in bed, pretending to be dead to the world. It was past 10 a.m., and he was already cleaning up, sticking to the deal. Such a good boy.

Feeling lazy, you finally dragged yourself up to make some breakfast and found him in the living room… shirtless. That early, and already all sweaty.

“You already went to the gym?”

“Yeah, woke up early and got it done.”

“I wish I had that kind of focus.”

He started going on about routines, health habits, results, diets, and a whole load of other stuff you couldn’t process because, honestly, you hadn’t had your coffee yet. You sat at the table with your cereal while he kept talking, but…

You’d always hated those creepy guys who stare or catcall women on the street, commenting on their bodies like they had no shame. But here you were, feeling just as low. Jeongin was hot—too hot. You couldn’t stop staring at the way his arms flexed when he moved, his chest rising and falling as he talked, or the sharp lines of his abs…

“Are you even listening?”

“Sure, keep going. Talk all morning if you want—just stay like that.”

“Like what?”

“Without a shirt.” You sipped your coffee, glancing back at him, and couldn’t help but notice the way his abs tensed as he laughed. “You’re too hot. Seriously, what the hell? You look bigger than last week.”

“If you’d been paying attention to what I was saying, you’d know why. But thanks for noticing!”

He went back to cleaning, and you headed to your room to change your sheets and pretend you had your life together.

When lunchtime rolled around, you checked the fridge to see if you had anything left. Enough for the both of you, sure, but you weren’t in the mood for diet food. Picking up your phone, you wandered through the apartment to find Jeongin and ask if he wanted anything else.

You found him in his room, and without bothering to knock, you walked right in. Big mistake. He was in nothing but his underwear, sorting through a pile of dirty clothes before heading to the shower. The sight hit you harder than you cared to admit. Fuck. You pretended to be unfazed.

“How about knocking next time?”

“Nothing I haven’t seen before, sweetheart. And please, you had your face buried between my legs last night—don’t act shy now. I’m ordering food. Want anything?”

“You’re the one acting weird. But yeah, order me some pasta.”

“I’m not being weird.”

You avoided looking directly at him, scrolling on your phone to place the order, but then you realized you were still wearing yesterday’s clothes. Gross. You needed a shower, but of course, he got there first.

When he finally came out, the lingering smell of his shampoo hit you. God, it was so good you were tempted to use it yourself.

Your shower was long. You scrubbed every inch of your body, all the while plotting exactly how to tease him next. Last night felt so natural, so right. You wanted more, and you were sure he did too. But jumping right into it? That wasn’t your style. Where was the fun in that?

After drying off, you picked out the tiniest dress you could find. You did put on panties—for now. There were still things to get done around the apartment.

Jeongin grabbed the delivery bags, and the two of you sat down to eat in silence—at least until he started complaining about the smell of your cleaning products, saying it was too sweet.

“You can buy different ones if you want, but I like the smell.” You finished your lunch and stood up to toss the trash.

“I don’t like anything sweet.”

“Hm, so if I put some chocolate topping on my body, you wouldn’t lick it?” The intrusive thought slipped out before you could stop it. Shit, you definitely hadn’t meant to say that out loud. “I mean, I’m sure you’ve done that with someone before.”

“Never have. But in that case… I might make an exception.” His expression shifted, and you became painfully aware of the way your panties clung to you. The tension between you was thick, delicious.

“Good to know,” you muttered, trying to play it off. “So, any plans today?”

“Nah, I was supposed to go to a bar with some people from college, but I’m tired of going out. You?”

“Not going out either. Thinking about watching something.”

“Want some company? I can make popcorn.”

You went to the living room with a Diet Coke while Jeongin handled the popcorn. Such a sweetie. Settling on the couch, you leaned against the armrest and propped your legs up on the coffee table. It was still early afternoon, but your mind was already racing with ideas. You knew exactly how to drive him crazy—you were just waiting for the right moment.

“We have a break next week, right?” he asked, sitting beside you with the popcorn bowl between his legs.

“Yeah, they’ve been bugging me about visiting.”

“Staying the whole week?”

“Maybe. If I can put up with it.” You rolled your eyes, already dreading the inevitable comments about your new piercings. “I got my ear and belly pierced. Pretty sure they’re going to give me hell for it.”

“You can hide them under clothes, can’t you?” He chuckled, sipping his Coke, looking almost too cute.

“It’s going to be hot, and I want to use the pool.” You ran your fingers through your hair, thinking about the hassle. “But we’ll see. Depends on how much patience I have that day. Maybe they won’t even care—might’ve already given up on me. But you? You’re their golden boy. If only they knew…”

“Knew what?” He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “I think they already figured out I’m not a virgin. Your mom’s so nosy, always snooping around my stuff. She must’ve seen the condoms by now.”

“But they don’t know you’ve got a thing for catching your ladies in rest homes, right? Double your age, Jeongin. And let’s not forget the things you do with your ‘sis’...”

Jeongin burst out laughing, and you couldn’t help but join him. The two of you laughed so hard that tears streamed down your face as you struggled to catch your breath.

“You can’t say much!” He playfully slapped your thigh. “If they knew you walk around here without panties just to tease me and flash your pussy, you’d be in just as much trouble.”

“I told you, they’ve already given up on me. They’d probably just drag you out of here, scared I’m corrupting you…”

“Too late for that.”

“Yeah…” Your body felt hot again, and your panties were soaked. Fuck. Why did this keep happening? The chemistry between you two was insane—palpable, even when there wasn’t any physical contact. Just being near him was enough to set you off. “I’ll be right back. Don’t pause the movie.”

In your room, you opened the closet and grabbed your box of toys. Among the collection of butt plugs, you chose a medium one with a pink heart-shaped jewel at the base—it was the prettiest. Heading to the bathroom with the plug and some lube, you left the rest scattered on your bed.

After washing the plug, you applied the lube and arched your back, carefully pressing it against your rim. You eased it in slowly, relaxing the muscle as you pushed, but it wasn’t difficult—it slid in easily because you were already so damn horny. Tossing your soaked panties into the laundry basket, you caught a glimpse of the wet stain and couldn’t help but stare for a moment. Jeongin had no idea how deeply he got under your skin. Hell, even you didn’t fully understand how he affected you like this. But you were having fun, and that was all that mattered.

When you returned to the living room, you sat back on the couch, keeping your expression neutral even though the plug shifted with every movement of your hips, driving you crazy. Jeongin glanced at you, his brow furrowing slightly. He was already suspicious.

“What were you doing?”

“Nothing. Just washed my hands.”

He didn’t press further, so you both kept watching the movie. The popcorn was gone, as was the Diet Coke. You offered to grab some beers, standing up and feeling how sticky your thighs were from your arousal. The plug remained a constant presence, amplifying every sensation.

Handing Jeongin a can, you sat down again. The movie was halfway through, and the daylight outside was starting to fade. By the time it ended, you’d both had at least three beers each. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for what you’d been waiting to do.

“Want another?” you asked, standing up and making sure he was watching as you leaned over to pick up the empty cans from the coffee table. Your dress was just short enough to reveal everything underneath, and by his silence, you knew he’d noticed the plug in your ass. Arching your back a little more, you glanced over your shoulder to find Jeongin completely frozen, staring.

“What? See something you like?”

You had no idea what his reaction would be, but you didn’t have to wait long. In just a few seconds, Jeongin came back to life. He turned off the TV, stood, and hoisted you onto his shoulder like you weighed nothing. Laughing, you let him carry you to your room, where he tossed you onto the bed.

“So this was your plan,” he muttered, his eyes locking onto your box of toys. In no time, his hands were all over it, rummaging through and pulling out your favorite vibrator. You could see the outline of his hard cock through his shorts, especially when he squeezed himself for you to watch.

“I hope you’re ready for this,” he said, voice low and commanding. “You’re gonna pay for all that teasing.”

“Less talking, more action. Show me what you’ve got.”

“I’m not that inexperienced anymore, you know.” He smirked, turning the vibrator on to check the battery. The memory of when you’d teased him about being a virgin flashed in your mind, making you grin. “Spread those legs for me.”

Already lying on your back, you pulled your dress up and did as he said, teasing your clit and entrance with your fingers to show him just how wet you were. Then you held your slick fingers up, biting your lower lip as his eyes darkened.

Jeongin knelt between your legs and brought the vibrator to your mouth, silently urging you to suck. You did, keeping eye contact the whole time. Once it was wet enough, he pulled it away and rubbed it against your clit, teasing you before slowly sliding it to your entrance.

“You’re dripping…” he murmured, turning the vibrator on and pushing it inside. It slid in effortlessly, but the sensation made you arch your back. “So fuckin’ tight with the plug in…”

Your eyes locked on his, and you struggled to hold back your moans, desperate to keep some composure. But when he leaned down to kiss you, his fingers working your clit as the toy buzzed inside you, it was game over.

Dragging your hands down his body, you reached his waistband and pulled down his shorts, freeing his cock. It was thick, slick with precum, and as you gripped it, you couldn’t stop yourself from imagining how wrecked you’d be when he was done with you.

You stayed like that for what felt like forever—kissing, touching, and teasing each other. Jeongin’s cock throbbed in your hand, but no matter how close you got to the edge, he refused to let you finish. Every time you neared your orgasm, he would stop the vibrations, leaving you desperate.

Frustrated, you squeezed his cock a little harder, stroking him faster and pressing your thumb against the tip—a silent plea for him to give you more.

Jeongin finally tossed the vibrator aside and replaced it with his fingers, thrusting them into you with precision. The way he moved made your back arch, and a loud moan escaped your lips before you could stop it.

“I can feel the plug in your ass…” His voice was low, a growl against your neck as his hot breath sent shivers down your spine. You stroked him even harder, his precum slicking your hand. “Tsk, tsk… I’m not finishing in your hands, baby. You’re going to pick a hole for me to fill with my cum.”

His filthy words sent a shockwave through your body, making you clench around his fingers. He noticed instantly and pulled them out, smirking when you whined from the loss.

“What a dirty mouth…”

“You clenched so hard. I know you loved it.” His lips found your neck again, his teeth grazing before he bit down, sucking the skin until your entire body shivered under his touch. His fingers teased your clit, drawing you closer to madness.

“You didn’t say what you like that day,” he murmured, referencing a past conversation you had about kinks with him, “so I’ll just have to figure it out myself.”

You rolled your hips against his hand, desperate for relief, but when he noticed, he pulled away again. His palm came down hard on your clit, a sharp slap that echoed in the room. You screamed—not from pain, but from the sharp jolt of pleasure.

“So, you like this too…” Another slap followed, then another, each one pushing you further into the haze of arousal. By the time the sting turned into pain, you were already losing your grip on reality.

“Edging isn’t my favorite,” you snapped, your voice tinged with frustration. Jeongin slid his fingers back into you, curling them expertly to hit that sweet spot that made you melt.

“Yeah?” His smirk was maddening. “Then I won’t hold you back anymore, but you’re cumming on my cock, not my fingers.”

He knelt between your legs, stroking himself slowly as he admired the way you sprawled out for him. His gaze burned into you, intense and possessive. When he pulled off his shirt, revealing his glistening, sweat-slicked torso, your breath caught.

“Where do you keep the condoms?” he asked, his voice gruff as he kept stroking his cock, precum glistening at the tip.

“Already fucked raw before?”

“Never.”

You slid a hand down to your pussy, spreading your lips wide open for him, teasing him with the same gesture you’d used days ago in the kitchen.

“Then come here. I wanna be your first.”

His eyes darkened, his gaze so intense it made you flush. But embarrassment was fleeting, replaced by a deep ache for him. You lifted your legs slightly, giving him a clear view of the plug still buried in your ass.

“Fuck, you’re such a slut… drives me crazy.”

Jeongin leaned in, aligning himself with your entrance. His cock throbbed against your slick folds as he braced himself on his arms, his muscles flexing as beads of sweat traced down his skin.

“I always knew I’d have you begging for me like this.”

Before you could answer, he thrust into you with one smooth motion, filling you completely. The stretch was overwhelming, deliciously painful, and the pleasure coursed through you in waves. He gave you no time to adjust, setting a relentless rhythm as his breath fanned over your neck.

You cried out, a mix of pain and ecstasy, and clung to him, your nails dragging down his back as you relished his weight pressing against you. He kissed you deeply, his tongue dominating yours, his hips pounding against you in a way that left no room for thought.

Lifting your legs higher, you let him bury himself deeper, the plug adding a tightness that drove both of you wild. The vibration of his moans against your lips sent sparks through your body as you scratched his back, pouring all your pent-up frustration into him.

Jeongin grinned against your mouth, increasing his pace until the bed creaked beneath you. Desperate, you reached for your clit, rubbing it sloppily. Within seconds, your orgasm hit hard, making your body quake as you clenched around him. Tears of pleasure filled your eyes as you fell apart beneath him, it was insane.

He stilled, staying buried deep inside you as he watched you come undone.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he murmured, his voice reverent. “Tight and wet… all for me.”

As you caught your breath, your legs went limp, trembling from the intensity. Jeongin kissed your neck softly, then moved to your lips, his cock still throbbing inside you.

“I almost came with you…” he admitted, his voice husky. Slowly, he started to move again, his hips rolling in a steady, deliberate rhythm.

“Why are you holding back?” you whispered against his lips, feeling the sting of the marks you’d left on his back.

“Because there’s more I wanna do with you. Or are you going to tell me that plug was just to tease me?”

“It was…” You smirked, your breath hitching as his thrusts deepened. “But then I got really horny.”

You knew exactly what those few words would do to him. You felt the way his cock twitched inside you, how impossibly hard he was. Jeongin was just as affected by your words as you were by his.

“We can take care of that…” He kissed you again, biting your lower lip before slowly sliding his cock out of you. The emptiness made you whimper softly, already missing him.

Jeongin leaned back against the headboard, settling himself with an air of control that made your thighs clench involuntarily. Without a word, he gestured for you to come closer, curling his long, elegant fingers—those damn fingers. You obeyed, kneeling beside him, your heartbeat quickening when he grabbed your hair and not so gently pulled you down toward his cock. His smile, framed by those damn dimples, was maddening.

You chuckled softly, loving the way he handled you without needing instructions, knowing exactly what you wanted before you said anything. Positioning yourself on all fours, you steadied yourself on his thighs, preparing to take him in your mouth.

As you leaned down, Jeongin’s hand found your ass, gripping it roughly enough to leave marks. He smoothed his palm over your skin, only to slide down to your clit, rubbing it in slow, deliberate circles. The dual sensation made you moan, the sound vibrating against his cock as you licked a stripe from base to tip, tasting yourself on him.

You stroked him slowly, letting him glide past your lips, feeling him stretch your cheeks from inside your mouth. The weight and taste of him made you hum in satisfaction as you started sucking gently, teasing him with soft, deliberate motions. You didn’t want him to cum yet, you wanted to savor this. You were loving to suck him off like that.

“Fuck, you're so good at this…” he groaned, brushing your hair out of the way so he could watch you. His voice sent a shiver through you, and you clenched around nothing, your arousal dripping onto your thighs. “Yeah, spit on it—makes it go in so easy…”

He wasn’t idle, either. Jeongin’s fingers toyed with the plug in your ass, twisting it and pulling it just enough to stretch you further before sliding it back in. The teasing was maddening, each movement sending jolts of pleasure through your overstimulated body.

You paused, panting against his cock, overwhelmed by the sensations.

“Seeing how much you’re enjoying this is killing me,” he said, his voice thick with lust. “I’m not gonna last 10 seconds when I fuck this tight hole…”

He pushed the plug out and replaced it with his fingers, sliding them in slowly. You moaned as he worked you open, his movements precise and unhurried, building your anticipation.

“Fuck, I can’t wait anymore. How do you want me?”

You pushed yourself up to meet his gaze, his fingers still deep inside you, making your hips jerk against his hand. “All fours, spoon, top, bottom…” You licked your lips, letting the tension build. “Pick one. I love all of them.”

“Hm, yeah? Then I wanna be on top.” He guided you onto your back, spreading your legs wide as he knelt between them. His gaze roamed over you, his smirk deepening when he saw how wet you were. “So I can see that slutty face while I rail you.”

“Fuck, Jeongin… everything you say makes my pussy drip,” you admitted, your body responding immediately to his filthy words.

“I know,” he replied, smugly.

Grabbing the lube, he slicked his cock generously before looking at you with a hunger that made your skin flush. “Spread your ass for me, love.”

Without hesitation, you obeyed, your mind too clouded with lust to care about anything else. His lubed fingers circled your hole, easing you open as he prepared to take you.

“Ready?”

“Just fuck me, please.”

His grin widened, and the intensity of his gaze melted you completely. You reached for your clit, desperate for relief, as he pushed into you slowly. The stretch burned at first, but the pain quickly gave way to an intoxicating fullness as he seated himself completely inside you.

You’d been worried before—about letting him fuck your ass, about whether he’d know what he was doing—but fuck, you’d been so wrong. Jeongin proved he was more than capable, he was indeed well trained. He stayed still, giving you time to adjust, his lips soothing you with soft kisses along your neck and shoulders.

Your dress, still bunched around your waist, became a nuisance. With trembling hands, you pulled it off, leaving you completely naked before him for the first time.

Jeongin’s eyes darkened as he watched you undress. Leaning forward, he took one of your nipples into his mouth, swirling his tongue in slow circles while he began to move his hips. His thrusts were deep and measured, every inch of him filling you perfectly. He really knew how he supposed to fuck you, and it was so hot and good…

“Oh fuck, you're taking my cock so well…” he groaned, biting and sucking at your nipple until it popped free from his mouth. “Not gonna last, fuck.”

“Me neither…” You panted, your fingers working your throbbing clit as the tension in your body coiled tighter and tighter. “You just put it in, and I wanna cum already.”

“Cum. I wanna feel how tight you’ll get. Give it to me.”

His movements stayed controlled, his thrusts deliberate, but you could feel his restraint slipping. You couldn’t hold back, rubbing your clit faster and fucking your pussy with two fingers, chasing your high.

Desperate for more, you grabbed Jeongin’s hand and guided it to your neck, silently pleading. He understood immediately, wrapping his fingers around your throat and applying just enough pressure to make your vision blur. The added intensity pushed you over the edge.

Your orgasm ripped through you like a tidal wave, so overwhelming that tears spilled down your cheeks. Your body shook violently, your cries choked by his grip as you clenched around his cock, squeezing him impossibly tight.

Jeongin groaned loudly, his rhythm faltering. Letting go of your neck, he gripped your breasts, his thrusts growing erratic as he chased his own release.

“Give it to me, I wanna see you filling me up like you told me you’d do.”

Jeongin groaned loudly as his release overtook him, his cock twitching deep inside you. His thrusts slowed, becoming lazy and uneven until he stilled completely. With a final moan, he let his weight drop onto you, his warm, sweaty body pressing against yours.

“You’re fuckin perfect,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, still catching his breath. His face was buried in the crook of your neck, where he placed another soft kiss, his lips lingering on your skin.

You ran your fingers through his messy hair, a tender gesture that felt almost too intimate after what had just happened. As his cock softened and slid out of you, leaving a mix of both your fluids dripping down your thighs, you shivered slightly but didn’t move to clean up.

“I know,” you replied with a teasing smirk, though your voice was soft and your body still buzzing from the aftershocks.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, tangled together in comfortable silence, his fingers lazily tracing patterns on your skin. It felt… good. Too good. A quiet intimacy settled between you, one that you weren’t entirely sure how to handle. It scared you—how natural it felt, how safe you were in his arms. It had been the best sex of your life, but you weren’t about to admit that to him. He was cocky enough as it was.

Jeongin eventually fell asleep beside you, his body warm and bare against yours. The sheets were a mess, sticky with the remnants of your crime, but you didn’t care. When you woke in the middle of the night, his arm was draped over your waist, holding you close. His slow, steady breathing tickled the back of your neck, and for a moment, you felt something stir in your chest—something warm, peaceful, and dangerously unfamiliar.

You tried to push it away, refusing to entertain the possibility of what it could mean. But his presence was disarming. The way he held you made you feel weak in a way you didn’t hate.

Your thoughts started to spiral. What would happen if someone found out about this? About you and him? You weren’t blood, but your family would never accept it. The mere idea was a disaster waiting to happen. You weren’t even sure why you were thinking about it so much—why you cared at all.

Jeongin shifted in his sleep, pulling you even closer and squeezing your waist lightly. The weight of his arm and the warmth of his body melted your resistance, and you let out a soft sigh. Whatever this was, whatever it meant, it wasn’t a problem for tonight.

You’d worry about it if—when—you had to. For now, you let the comfort of his embrace lull you back to sleep, your concerns fading into the quiet darkness.

[lillaydee]

Shhh!!! Part 7

Celebrity!Joel Miller / F Reader

A reluctant celebrity contractor who has closed his heart for love meets a celebrity-hating Cafe on Wheels owner...

She HATES him. Thing is, he couldn't get enough of the coffee she makes...

Tag List:

@kirsteng42 @peelieblue @harriedandharassed @joelalorian @vickie5446 @inept-the-magnificent @maried01 @brittmb115 @peedrow @lovefreylove @liciafonseca

Let me know if you would like to be added/removed from the tag list.

Dividers by the awesome @saradika

Header by Moi cause I learned how to use Canva! Yay me!

WARNINGS: Grumpy Joel (The Last of Us), Protective Joel (The Last of Us), Good Parent Joel (The Last of Us), Joel is Bad at Feelings (The Last of Us), Alternate Universe - No Cordyceps Outbreak (The Last of Us), Joel Needs a Hug (The Last of Us), Celebrity Joel Miller, Fluff and Angst, Eventual Smut, I'm Bad At Tagging, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tags May Change, Hurt Joel (The Last of Us), Jealousy.

SERIES MASTER LIST

Part 6

Joel couldn’t help his smile forming when he saw Sarah’s car parked in the garage.

His BabyGirl was home. He had missed her, missed having her around the house, missed having her snuggle to him as they watched movies together, missed having her steal bits of his breakfast as he ate his every morning, missed having her yell out ‘alarm!’ at his door every morning. She inherited Anita Miller’s early riser gene, that’s for sure. Weird thing was, she wasn’t an early riser when Laura was around. She was only one year old then, but the day after Laura passed, and every single day since, with the exception on days she was sick, her eyes opened the moment whatever the time it was to be the definition of a ridiculously early riser and then made it her business to wake Joel up with her, ranging from wailing her lungs out, jumping on his bed ‘til he gave up, to shouting ‘alarm!’ outside his door.

Ellie got a rude awakening the first morning after she moved in with them, that’s for sure.

Joel was never a late riser, but Sarah made him seem like one. As tired as he was all those years ago, a single dad, being the sole person responsible for the little girl’s needs, he had to abide by her body clock, and that meant waking up before the sun did, making her breakfast. Although, he would be lying if he said he would have it any other way. Those precious sleepy times in the mornings were what he missed the most when she left to go to college. Just the two of them, Joel doing her bidding, Sarah perched on the kitchen counter telling him what to do until she was old enough to cook for him instead.

The first time she did that, his Mama had just passed, and it was the first birthday he had without the breakfast spread she usually made him. So Sarah, standing on a small stool, cooked, at age eight, and Joel willingly ate the shell-filled scrambled eggs and burnt toast she made for him, his heart full, his eyes wet, her happy face seeing her Dad eat the breakfast she made for him making him think, at least for a moment, that he had done a good job raising her. She had since learnt that you don’t cook the shells with the eggs but always made sure to include some on his birthdays just to remind him of that first time. And he would eat the shell without fail, pretending to be annoyed with her for it every single time.

That morning Ellie trudged into the kitchen complaining that it would be the last day she could wake up at a respectable hour, since Sarah was due to arrive later that day. Bye-bye waking up at a reasonable hour, she had grumbled, despite the excitement of seeing her big sister again.

Joel laughed, plating his eggs and pouring Ellie her cereal. Hmmm… Ellie thought, he laughed, but there was something off about his laugh. He looked happy, excited, even, maybe he was looking forward to Sarah being home. She woke up to a text from her that she was already on her way and was due to arrive around 3pm. But as happy as Joel seemed to be, something was not quite right. Ellie tried and tried to figure out what it was, but for the life of her, she couldn’t.

Until Joel got an old 3-in-1 packet of coffee he got as a sample months ago out of the cupboard and made himself a cup of coffee. He looked full of thought as he stared at the mug in his hand, took a deep breath, a look of longing and dissatisfaction clearly on his face as he took his first sip.

Oh… she thought. He’s missing your coffee… or… to be more hopeful, you?

“You know, Joel, Sarah won’t be here for hours. We do have time to go to the rec centre if you want coffee. I know you like the coffee Lil makes,” she tried, not looking at him, pretending to be busy looking at her phone instead. This was a delicate task, she knew that. She must never let on that she knew he was crushing on you. That would just scare him and make him stay away from you.

Joel paused as he was taking a sip, looking as if he was contemplating the suggestion. He stood up from his leaning position on the counter, hand pressing down on it, his fingers accidentally brushing on the broken coffee machine. He immediately turned around towards it, staring at the machine for a few long seconds before telling her no.

Ellie didn’t say anything, despite the disappointment she felt. She knew what just happened. He saw the machine and was now reminded of his late wife. She and Sarah had a theory. He loved her so much and never wanted to fall for another, maybe he felt as if that was a betrayal to her memory. That must be why he refused to get rid of that machine. Uncle Tommy and Angela often reminded him she was gone, and Joel had always, always walked away every time they did that.

Sarah never dared say anything about this to Joel. She didn’t remember her Mom, and Joel never talked about her to help with that bit. Her Nana didn’t talk about her either, which was weird. Neither did Mrs Adler, the lady who looked after her when Joel was working. She remembered asking Joel about her one time, exactly one time when she was much younger, and Joel changed the subject. He was quiet after that, didn’t really look at her and was noticeably down for a few days. When she asked Uncle Tommy, Tommy told her that her Mom was the love of her Dad’s life, and losing her, talking about her, hurt him a lot. Tommy didn’t know much about her Mom, not knowing her that well. But Sarah made do with the few stories she could get from him and made up her mind not to trouble Joel with such questions again.

Joel busied himself getting the house ready for Sarah’s return. Washing her sheets, airing, dusting and vacuuming her room, the likes. He ordered lunch for himself and Ellie, eating in silence, before deciding to go out and stock his fridge and pantry with Sarah’s favourites. They were planning to drive out to the cabin in the mountains that he and Tommy bought a few years back the next day, so he needed to get provisions too.

He drove his truck in silence. No music, no nothing. He was excited Sarah was coming home, and nothing was going to spoil that for him. Not even the sight of the broken coffee machine that put to bed his excitement about getting a cup of good coffee from you. He wandered the aisles of the store alone, getting what he needed, the cart filling up to the brim in no time at all. He stopped at the coffee section, looking at the selection of fancy coffee he could get to satisfy his caffeine addiction for the week. His mornings would be filled with breakfasts and brunches with Sarah, Ellie and Tommy, all he had with them without the worry of work or schools or extra classes before Sarah started her internship the next Monday. He wouldn’t have time to go queueing up for coffee, not that there were any within a 30 minutes’ drive from the cabin anyway.

He asked the young man who was arranging some boxes of coffee on the shelves what he could get to replace good coffee without having to buy a machine for it – and the young man recommended a box of drip coffee for him to try. Just tear off the top of the packet, open and place it on a mug, pour in hot water and wait for it to finish dripping. The brand even came with a variety of strength. Joel got the strongest one they had and drove home.

He drove his truck home in silence again. Once the truck stopped, he realized that he had ended up at the rec centre parking lot. What? How’d that happen? He sat there, stupefied by what just happened. He laughed at himself for a bit, chastising his old mind for the habitual drive he had been making these past couple of weeks. Ellie wasn’t there, he didn’t need to pick her up. His brain just went there. It was a habitual thing. That was all. His mind went on autopilot and his body followed.

Although… now that he was here… he thought, glancing at the corner that would take him to your truck. He could, technically, just… go over and get a cup of coffee from you. That cup of sample coffee he had did nothing for him. Maybe he could just…? He reached for his gear knob, contemplating… it’s almost three in the evening. Was that too late to get coffee? He didn’t want to lay awake all night, like he did last night, which didn’t actually make sense since he only had one cup at your place. And it wasn’t even the extra strong six shot thing. It was just a regular cup of black coffee. Yet, he laid awake all night, unable to sleep, thankful that he could at least sleep in a little since Ellie wouldn’t be going to Frank’s class for the rest of the week.

It befuddled him. Why couldn’t he sleep? His mind went to the way you stood in your kitchen, dressed in a robe, making his cup of coffee for him. How your damp hair was up in a messy bun instead of the regular pony tail, your face completely devoid of the usual coloured lip balm you continuously refreshed throughout the day at the truck, how your fingers wrapped around the spoon like thing the coffee ground was in, working the simpler, but still complicated (to his mind, at least) machine you had in your small kitchen. He didn’t see you put anything extra in the mug, so he couldn’t find reason as to why he couldn’t sleep. He thought some more, looking for clues as to why this might be, and his mind wandered to the way your tongue stuck out a little as you steamed some milk for yourself, how your lips wrapped around the rim of the mug as you drank your coffee, how they scrunched up a little as you swallowed, your tongue licking the edges of them as you cleansed them off the frothy coffee that stuck to them…

So, no answer as to why he couldn’t sleep. He wasn’t going to risk a sleepless night tonight, not when he knew Sarah was going to wake him early the next day. So he’d better not get the coffee.

But he was here. His eyes remained glued to the corner. He didn’t really know why, but they were. His engine was still on, gear was on Drive, but his foot remained firmly on the brake pedal, eyes looking for something he couldn’t seem to identify. His heart skipped a beat as someone walked out, sitting up straight a little, straining his neck out to see who it was. He huffed a laugh at his own silliness when the person turned out to be some random lady walking out to her car, which he was now blocking.

His phone beeped. A text from Sarah. ‘Back home safe!’ she exclaimed, a selfie of her and Ellie in his garage accompanying the text. He took his foot off the brake pedal and drove out, excited to see his little girl.

“Food’s here!” Tommy’s muffled voice rang out as he walked in through the front door, the handles of a take-out bag in his mouth, his arms laden with more. Ellie and Sarah squealed, running towards him to get the bags off him, running with them back into the kitchen, where Joel was taking out plates from the cabinet.

“Sure, get the bags. Don’t hug your Uncle Tommy or anything!” Tommy yelled after them, Sarah coming back to let herself be squeezed to near death by her one and only uncle. Ellie received a hug and hair tussle from Tommy as he entered the kitchen, a hand slapping his brother’s shoulder, the other grabbing a beer from the fridge.

A very merry sushi and ramen dinner was followed by movie night, the four of them sprawled out in front of the TV, some movie about vampires or something playing. Joel didn’t care. All he could think about was his Sarah was right there, snuggling up to him, his Ellie on his other side, his brother Tommy laying on the love seat, his feet dangling off the edge. His family was here. So he watched the weird, vampire movie Sarah had picked, and watched the second one, where it had now mysteriously become a werewolf movie, and didn’t complain.

Tommy’s phone rang halfway through the second movie, and he slipped out back to answer it. Joel subconsciously got annoyed. Tommy had always done this. He would get a phone call or a text in the middle of family time, leave and then brag about his hook ups the day after, before trying to convince him to join in the next time. One time. Just one time, stay and finish the movies, Tommy. The girls were growing up, and they would leave the nest for good soon. Enjoy this while it lasted, Tommy, for God’s sake. Like it or not, they were the only family he had.

But then, Tommy didn’t leave. He was still outside, pacing the backyard in slow, steady steps, occasionally smoking and laughing, a smile evident on his face the whole time, even from where Joel was sitting. Okay, this was weird. Maybe he was just sweet talking whoever the poor young lady was on the other end of that call into meeting him after? But the second movie ended and he was still there, still talking, still laughing to whoever was at the other end. The girls got up and hugged him goodnight, Sarah being extra smoochy with him, telling him he’ll get his usual wakeup call the next morning. They went outside and hugged Tommy goodnight, the man finally hanging up, asking Joel if he’d join him outside for a beer.

“Hey, Joel, when you said you wanted to retire… was it just the privacy thing?”

Joel took a deep breath, took another sip of his beer, and nodded.

“That, and I guess… Let’s face it Tommy, we’re not getting any younger. I went to bed every night and every morning I wake up, I swear something on my body that functioned perfectly well the night before stopped working. I sneezed the other day and almost threw my back out.”

Tommy bellowed, spluttering beer everywhere.

“Also… this city… it’s just… noisy. The traffic. The smog. There are cameras everywhere… I just can’t see myself growing old here.”

“So where? If not here, where?”

Joel shrugged. “I don’t know. Somewhere quiet. Maybe I can raise sheep. I don’t know. Just, not here. Not in a city.”

“Somewhere like Nana’s and Pops’s?”

Their late Papa’s parents lived on a small farm. Tommy was only four when they died, but every Christmas ‘til then, they would travel up north and had a white Christmas. They were the best Christmases Joel could remember. His Pops and Papa would pull the two of them on a sled up a hill and they would sled down all day until Nana and Mama called them in to warm up with a cup of hot chocolate and marshmallows. Although why they were so worried, he didn’t know. He wasn’t cold. Tommy’s face and ears would be all pink and so were his, but they felt nice and warm, feeling so free and exhilarated from all the fun they had.

He wanted Sarah and Ellie’s children to remember spending Christmas with him like that. He wanted to teach his grandchildren how to chop wood, how to build things, wanted to let them play with animals, the way his Pops and Papa did with him. He wanted to make them hot chocolate with marshmallows and drink them by the wood fire. He wanted to have their stockings with their names on them hung above the fireplace, the way his and Tommy’s were at their grandparents’.

He hadn’t realized he had said all that thought out loud. His mind snapped back to the present with Tommy looking at him with warmth in his eyes.

“Don’t snap at me, brother, but… may I ask, if you were planning to have someone with you there? You know, to grow old with?”

Joel went quiet.

“Look, Joel, I get it. You loved Laura. But she’s gone, man, it’s been a long time. The girls are leaving soon. You’re really telling me you’re never going to find someone to share your life with?”

Joel took a really deep breath, “You know nothing about my life with Laura, Tommy.”

“I know, and I’m not trying to pry. Really, I’m not. You have all the rights in the world not to ever talk about Laura with me, but if you are gonna have that future you are thinking of having, are you really going to live it alone? That future sounds lovely, Joel, but doing that alone? I don’t know… it just sounds… lonely… sorry Joel…”

Joel shook his head, waving his beer at Tommy, telling him it was okay. A thought suddenly came to him. This was unlike Tommy. He was non-combative, for the first time ever, even when asking about the retirement. He looked at his brother intently, the younger man suddenly withdrawing into his seat, looking flustered.

“Why are you asking me about this, Tommy? Why the sudden interest in my retirement? I thought you were against it? You were, just last week. Why all these questions now?”

Tommy looked down at his beer bottle, his fingers suddenly busy peeling the label off it. Even in the dark, Joel could see his brother blush. His interest was peaked. He leaned forward.

“What are you not telling me, little brother?”

Tommy huffed a laugh, glee written all over his feature.

“I met someone,” he said simply, before smiling like some lovestruck idiot, covering his face with his hands, his shoulders shaking from laughing at himself.

Joel thought for sure he imagining things. His little brother, Tommy, the one who had never had a steady girlfriend, the one who slept with a different woman every other week, was in love?

“You remember my high school buddy Jimmy?”

Joel nodded. The boy who gave Tommy a ride to school in his old Jeep.

“Well, I ran into him. He lives in Boston now but was here to celebrate his Mom’s birthday.”

Joel mulled over that information for a while, waiting for Tommy to finish speaking. But the man stopped. Joel had to take a shot, seeing as the man was not showing any interest in continuing his story, distracted by the label on the beer bottle again.

“Okay, so… you’re with him now?” he asked, cautiously.

“What? No! He was having lunch with his sister, you remember Maria?”

Oh yeah… he remembered her… but wait…

“Didn’t you hate her growing up? Called her a leech or something?”

Maria was always hanging around Jimmy. Being the surprise baby, the only girl in the family, born ten years after Jimmy and his brothers, she didn’t really have anyone her age to hang out with in the neighbourhood. Jimmy and Tommy hated having her around, leaving her in the dust on their BMXs while she pedalled her tricycle as fast as she could after them, to no avail. She would go running back crying to tell on them every time they did, a punishment for not letting her hang out with them always following. Soon, Maria became a nightmare for the boys Tommy’s age in the neighbourhood. Their parents, his own included, would actually pay her to spy on the boys. She was hard to shake off too, just like a leech. The fact that she was leeching money off their parents for doing that was just the final thump of the gavel on the nickname, as far as everyone’s concerned.

Tommy laughed, “Guess what she does for a living now?” he asked.

Joel shrugged, curiosity peaking.

“She’s an insurance investigator.”

Joel stared at his brother for a split second before throwing his head back and laughing so hard he almost toppled over. Tommy joined him, clutching at his tummy, laughing so hard their stomachs hurt.

It took them a while to calm down, but Joel finally asked his brother.

“So, you’re dating her now? For real?”

Tommy shook his head, “Just a drink or two last week. We’ve mostly been calling and texting. She’s out of town right now.”

“A drink or two, no breakfast the morning after?” Joel asked, disbelieving.

Tommy huffed, shaking his head, shyly glancing at his brother. Joel almost choked on the sip he was taking.

“You haven’t slept with her?”

Tommy scratched the back of his neck, shaking his head, a silly, goofy smile on his face.

Wow. Like, wow. Wow.

“Are you gonna make fun of me?” he asked, warily.

Joel didn’t know what to say. Wow.

“I really like her, Joel. I’ve never felt like this about anyone. She’s smart, sweet, funny, I can’t stop thinking about her,” Tommy laughed at himself, aware that this was not how he worked. Ever. “I think I’m in love, and I haven’t even kissed her yet,” he confessed, looking at his big brother, eyes pleading that Joel didn’t laugh at him for his vulnerability. “I don’t even know if she liked me like that, but when I think about this time next year, I see her there. I think about ten years from now, I see her there. When you were talking about a white Christmas like the ones we had with Pops and Nana, I see her there. I want that with her. Always. She travels a lot for work, and all I could think of is, I want to stop all this, sell everything, so I could be with her. Go where she needs to go.”

Joel looked at his brother, speechless, a smile on his face.

“That’s why I’m asking about you. I’m wondering if your decision to retire had something to do with a lady. Cause retirement is extremely enticing right now for me, and it is everything to do with Maria.”

Joel gave his brother a small laugh, shaking his head, before downing the rest of his beer.

For the first time in a long time, the two talked into the night without bickering.

Joel woke up the next morning to a brighter than usual room. It was almost eight. He shot up out of bed, going to the kitchen, finding Sarah and Ellie unpacking a bunch of food they had gotten.

“Morning sleepyhead,” Sarah cooed, giving her Dad a kiss. Ellie came and bumped his chest with her head, telling him they heard him and Tommy talking into the night, and therefore decided to give them both a break this morning. Tommy was still sleeping in the guestroom.

“We went to Lil’s truck to get you coffee but the line was long. We had already gotten the food, we didn’t want it to get cold,” Ellie said, looking apologetic.

“That’s okay kiddo, thanks for the thought,” he said, kissing the top of her head. He took the drip coffee he got the day before, and fiddled with the first packet, looking at the box for instructions, Sarah and Ellie fussing about to help him. The three of them somehow managed to figure it out, and Tommy walked out to find all three of them bent over, watching coffee drip out of the packet with bated breath. Once the mug was filled, Sarah took the packet off the mug and got rid of it, and she, Ellie and Tommy watched as Joel took the first sip, holding their breaths.

Their faces fell as Joel’s lips turned down a bit, his head wiggling side to side to tell them it was only okay, before taking another sip.

“Does Lil DoorDash? We could get it delivered?” Sarah asked. Ellie shook her head no.

“It’s okay, guys, this is fine. I’ll live,” Joel said, going to the island to eat.

“Who’s Lil?” Tommy asked.

“Lily, my boss at the coffee truck. She makes the best coffee. Joel loves them. We tried to get some this morning but the truck was busy.”

Tommy nodded, clearing his throat, “You know you could make good coffee yourself if you just buy…”

Joel’s eyes snapped up at his brother, shutting him up.

“Okay,” Tommy surrendered, eyes looking at the completely useless, ancient coffee machine sitting on the counter. “So, we leaving for the cabin today, or tomorrow?”

“Today,” Joel said, “We just need to get ice on the way,” he sipped on the coffee again. It’s good, really, it was. There’s just something missing. He needed to know what you put in your coffee. He had to find out. It must be the beans or something. He read that some people spray stuff on the coffee, some even mix in sugar or something or other, so that must be the missing link. He needed to figure it out. But for now, this drip coffee thing would have to do. Until Monday, this would have to do.

They piled everything they needed into his and Tommy’s trucks, Tommy telling them he needed to stop at his place to get something he forgot. He must have left them ready packed, it took him minutes to get it, placed it on the floor of his backseat and off they went. They arrived at the cabin just in time to set up and watch the sun go down as a family. They lazed by the fire that night, playing cards, roasting marshmallows and laughing at each other, with each other, just enjoying the time they had together.

Everyone generally woke up early when at the cabin, the sunrise was just too good to miss. Joel stayed at the spot later than everyone else, just wanting to enjoy the view a little longer. The quiet was too good to pass, in his opinion. So everyone went back to the cabin before him. He came back in to see Tommy and the girls standing in front of Tommy’s espresso maker, which apparently was the thing he went to pick up at his place. They placed the coffee – six shots of espressos – in front of Joel and waited for him to take a sip. Made from the finest beans, Tommy said, the beans were damned expensive too, he claimed.

Joel took a sip, and to the disappointment of the three, he made the same face he made with the drip coffee, thanking them for their effort. It’s good, he said, taking another sip before getting up to start breakfast.

Those few days were filled with just relaxing as a family, swimming in the lake, hiking, cooking, eating, just enjoying their time with each other. But every so often, Sarah and Ellie would watch as Joel sat alone looking out at the breathtaking view, wondering what he was thinking about. They had made the coffee for Joel in hopes that he would just perk up, seeing as he was so happy to get a good cup these two weeks. But that didn’t seem to work. He drank that coffee every morning they were at the cabin, seemingly satisfied with it, but according to Ellie, something was off.

Ellie didn’t get it. She watched you make coffee for Joel – there was nothing special about it. It was ground coffee, and hot water. That was it. That was what Tommy did, per her instruction. But his reaction to the coffee was nothing like the ones he had when he drank the coffee you made. Even Sarah seemed disappointed, and she had only seen his reaction once on that FaceTime on Monday. Sarah didn’t see anything different in Joel’s demeanour since her return, he was, as far as she was concerned, the same Dad she had always known, and to Tommy, he was the same old Joel. But Ellie saw a different Joel these past two weeks, and that Joel disappeared the day Sarah came back, although the other two couldn’t see the difference.

Sure, he seemed happy, or as happy as he could be before these past two weeks, but Ellie had seen how happy he could really get, and she wanted to see that happy man again. So did Sarah.

Tommy was curious, hearing Ellie talk about what a different man he was these past two weeks was like hearing about the boy he used to know as a kid. The boy who had disappeared and he hadn’t seen in forever. How happy. How smiley. How bouncy. How light. He begged the girls to show him the videos Sarah couldn’t stop referring to, but the girls didn’t want to show him, telling him there were other people involved in the videos, and they didn’t want to invade their privacies. As someone whose privacy was always tampered with, Tommy could understand, but his interest was really peaked.

So when they returned to LA, feeling refreshed from their long weekend at the cabin, Tommy decided to check this coffee out. The coffee that made his brother so happy, according to Ellie. He told Joel he wanted to come along to the rec centre, see if there was anything he could volunteer for during the remaining few weeks he had off, earning him a weirded out look from his older brother. But Joel relented, bringing Tommy with him that Monday when he took Ellie to the rec centre for class.

Tommy walked in with Ellie, supposedly to go meet the director of the rec centre, as Joel went to get his coffee. Ellie took him to the truck, hiding behind the nearest wall. The two watched as Joel approached the truck, looking jittery as fuck. “That’s Lil, that’s my boss,” Ellie whispered, pointing to you, who was standing outside with an older man, not talking to him, but smiling uncontrollably at him. The man just looked flustered, looking as if he was avoiding your teasing smiles, before going to clear the tables.

They watched as you clocked Joel’s presence, beaming at him, welcoming him back to the truck. They watched as the usually stoic Joel Miller got all smiley and light, nodding, saying “please” as you asked if he wanted his usual coffee. He greeted your Uncle Bill when you introduced them, enduring what seemed to be an overly tight handshake from the older man, before following you into the truck. They watched as he leaned against the counter, smiling and happily chatting with you as you made his coffee for him, his arms relaxed, hands placed on the counter on either side of him, as opposed to being across his chest when he talked to anyone who were not his family.

And Tommy watched disbelievingly as he saw his brother took a sip, his eyes closing, his head tilted back, his body relaxing, a dreamy smile on his face.

Okay, who the fuck was this man, and what had he done to his brother Joel?

And if an alien didn’t invade his brother’s body, that must be a damned good cup of coffee.

He needed to try that coffee. Like, now.

He said goodbye to Ellie and walked up to the window of the truck. As if some miraculous circus show was happening, he watched in horror as Joel took the apron off the hook by the door and put it on, tying it effortlessly behind his back.

His older brother’s face morphed into one of a deer being caught in headlights when he turned towards him with a beaming smile on his face, only to realize it was him, and not some random customer.

“Hello, Joel. I’ll have what you were having, please,” Tommy said, a teasing smile on his face.

Part 8

[bitchesuntitled]

Memories

Summary: What happens when your husband, Dieter, forgets who you are?

Warnings: 18+ minors get outta here! Cursing, fluff, smut, feel good, oral(f receiving), fingering(f receiving), probably not like realistic medical knowledge but it’s fiction 🤷‍♀️

A/N: Thank you so much @papipascalispunk for editing. @jay-zzle for the idea AND the mood board 😍❤️ I really liked writing this and had a lot of fun with it. Hope y’all like it! @schnarfer(it's here!)

Masterlist||AO3 Link

“Wait, who said we can’t have fruit bars anymore?” you ask, turning from the pantry to look at your seven year old daughter, Luna, sitting at the kitchen island.

“Daddy,” Luna states matter of factly, “He said that it’s fake food and we should only eat organic stuff.”

“Yeah, we need organic food,” your son Leo pipes in from the seat next to her. At three years old, he is currently in the copy everything big sister says or does phase.

“So, what do you want as a snack in your lunch box then?” you ask, raising your eyebrows, waiting for an answer.

“Uhhh… banana?” Luna shrugs, “Daddy wasn’t very specific on what I should eat instead.”

“Okay but get your breakfast eaten before your cereal gets soggy,” you say, pointing at both before starting on the dishes.

Of course Dieter would be the one to tell the kids not to eat certain foods. The man scolds you every time he sees your Bluetooth headphones – droning on and on about the effects it’ll have on your brain waves and how it’s going to damage your mind. Your relationship with Dieter was a bit of a chaotic whirlwind, meeting randomly on the set of one of the movies he starred in, one your friend was working on the set of.

“Well, hello there,” Dieter had said, standing next to you by the craft table. “Do you believe in love at first sight?”

“Excuse me?” you asked, looking around to see who he was actually talking to.

“Or should I walk by again?” he said with a smile.

“Is that how you get all the girls?” you asked, picking up a piece of cheese and pointing it at him, “Because that shit was pretty cheesy if you ask me.”

“No, trying something new,” Dieter said, cracking up into a giant fit of laughter. “Sorry, sorry. That– yeah, that was pretty good.”

“Bravo needed on set!” someone with a headset shouted in the distance, frantically waving at him.

“Guess that’s my cue,” he sighed, “Hope to see you ar– wait, what’s your name?”

You introduce yourself and he takes your hand, kissing the back of it.

“Pleased to meet you,” he said, repeating your name and winking, “Hope to see you around.”

That was the conversation that started it all nearly eight years ago. Within the first year of knowing Dieter, you were married and pregnant – and no – it wasn’t a shotgun wedding, as much as the tabloids tried to pin it as one.

“Dieter Bravo and Mystery Woman Seen Leaving Las Vegas Wedding Chapel”

“Dieter Bravo Expecting First Child with New Wife – Shotgun Wedding?”

“How Long Before Dieter Bravo Gets His First Divorce?”

You both just knew you were meant to be together. With the birth of Luna, he had sobered up completely. These days he hardly even drinks beer. It’s weird in a way, that he’s changed so much from who you first met, but still the same Dieter in every other aspect. Wild, spontaneous, creative, romantic, chaotic at times, and so loving.

–

“Good morning, my babies,” Dieter says, waltzing into the kitchen, giving each of his kids a kiss on the top of their heads.

“Hi, Daddy,” Luna and Leo exclaim.

“Hello, my love,” Dieter smiles, wrapping his arms around your waist giving you a sloppy smooch on the cheek.

“Ew,” Luna shouts, making gagging noises.

“Yeah, what Luna said!” Leo says, copying his older sister with fake gagging.

“Stop with the fake gagging,” he replies, looking at them, “You’ll make mommy sick.”

“Hi, babe,” you laugh, “Someone’s in a good mood this morning.”

“I want to start doing my own stunts like Tom Cruise,” Dieter explains excitedly, “And I think I’m going to crush it today! I’m supposed to scale a building, don’t worry, everything is going to be totally safe.”

“Seriously, Dieter?” you sigh, “You may say that it’s safe but I’m still going to worry – please be safe.”

Dieter gasps, putting his hand to his chest as if he were clutching a set of pearls. “Babies, I don’t think mommy trusts daddy!”

“Momma,” Leo laughs, perching up on the chair more, “Daddy be fine!”

“Yeah, momma,” Dieter says with a grin, “Daddy be fine.”

“Yeah, okay,” you say, snorting and shaking your head, looking at your watch you realize you’re going to be cutting it close in getting Luna to school on time. “Shit!”

“Mommy,” Luna scolds, “You shouldn’t say bad words like that!”

“Luna, hurry up with your cereal or else you’re going to be late for school again,” you say as you turn to Dieter who is rummaging in the fridge for his own breakfast. “What time do you have to be on set?”

“In about an hour, get her to school. My favorite son and I will be fine here at home. If need be, I’ll tell the director that I’m going to be late. Family first,” he says, “Not like they’d fire me at this point. I’m the entire reason people are going to want to see this movie.”

“I love you so much,” you say, giving him a kiss before ushering Luna out the door.

“Love you too, baby!” Dieter shouts.

–

“I’m back,” you announce from the front door.

“That didn’t take as long as I expected,” Dieter chuckles, “I gotta get headed to the studio though.” He scoops Leo up into a tight hug, “We'll play superhero when I get back home, okay?”

“Otay,” Leo says, pouting.

“Poor baby,” Dieter coos and glances up at you with a smirk, “You sure you don’t want another one?”

“Dieter,” you say, wrapping your arms around his neck, “We’ve talked about this. If it feels right, then maybe, but right now? No.”

“Fine,” Dieter groans, “But the moment you think it feels right, tell me?”

“Promise,” you smirk.

Dieter tells Leo goodbye with the promise of playing superheroes when he gets back home. Your mind begins to wander back to Dieter’s question about another baby as you go about your chores. You start smiling thinking back to when you first decided to start trying for a baby –  lying in bed together shortly after getting married.

“How many kids do you want?” Dieter asked, playing with the wedding band on your finger.

“I’d always imagined three honestly,” you smiled, “Why?”

“I want whatever you want,” he grinned, slotting himself between your legs again. “But if you wanted at least one I wouldn’t mind trying now.”

“D, we just got married a month ago,” you said, shaking your head, “Is that the only reason you married me? To have a baby?”

“Of course not, baby,” Dieter said, linking his fingers with yours and pinning them above your head, “I just know I really, really want them with you.”

“Oh yeah?” you whispered, tilting your head up to capture his lips. He moaned into your mouth, slowly grinding his stiffness against you.

“Yes,” he panted, breaking the kiss.

“Let’s do it then,” you said, nipping his bottom lip, “Fuck a baby into me, Dieter.”

“Fuck yeah, baby,” he groaned.

“Momma!” Leo shouts, pulling you from your thoughts, “Your phone.”

You had been so deep in the memory you didn’t even notice your phone ringing. It’s just Dieter, probably checking in to see how your day is going. He tends to do that while he’s on breaks at work.

“Well, hello, Tom Cruise,” you answer, giggling – except it isn’t Dieter on the other end. 

Instead, you hear his assistant, Andy, saying your name before, “Dieter’s been in an accident. I’m almost to your house, I’ll watch Leo so you can go to Cedars-Sinai medical,” quickly spills out of his mouth, “It’s not good.”

–

It’s been two weeks that you’ve sat beside his bed in this damn hospital, waiting for him to wake up. The doctors are all hopeful that he’ll wake up at any minute, but it’s been two days since he’s been off the ventilator, and nothing has happened yet. The kids keep asking where their dad is, and you don’t have any other answer than he’s sick. 

“Dieter,” you beg, holding onto his hand, “Babe, please wake up. We need you. Luna and Leo miss you – I miss you. Please just wake up.”

The nurse comes in to check Dieter’s vitals for the third time today. Since she’s keeping him company, you decide to head to the cafeteria to get some food, grabbing something simple before heading back to Dieter’s room. When you return, you notice a flurry of activity.

“Mr. Bravo, can you tell me what year it is?” a doctor asks, shining a small flashlight in his eyes.

“Of course I can, dumbass! It’s 2016,” Dieter snaps. “Now will you stop shining that light in my eye?”

“What’s going on?” you ask hesitantly.

“He woke up while you went to get food,” a nurse explains, “We’re trying to make sure mentally he’s with us.”

“Oh, for fuck sake!” Dieter cries out, “I’m fine, never felt better! There, she must be my new assistant.”

All eyes turn to you. This was a possibility the doctor had talked about before – temporary amnesia. Hopefully that’s all it is. The doctor motions you to follow him out of the room.

“He seems to have hit his head harder than we thought. In all honesty, I would try to play pretend with him for a little bit. Try thinking of things that might remind him of who he actually is today,” the doctor suggests. “I’m so sorry Mrs. Bravo.”

Dieter is having a conniption in the room while nurses are trying to calm him down. As you step back in, you see your husband frantically disconnecting and throwing the wires off of his body and onto the floor. 

“Where the fuck is my assistant?” Dieter yells.

“Dieter, D, baby – Mr. Bravo!” you shout and Dieter immediately freezes, eyes wide as saucers. “You need to calm down before you hurt yourself.”

“What happened?” Dieter asks, looking around at everyone.

“We’ll give you guys some space,” a nurse says quietly while ushering the others out of the room. You grab the chair next to his bed and sit down, reaching for his hand but stopping yourself as you notice your ring. Right now, this isn’t your husband. This is Dieter Bravo who believes it’s the year 2016.

“You were in an accident, you hit your head pretty good,” you start explaining to him, “You’ve been in a coma for two weeks now.”

“So, who are you?” he asks, looking you up and down with a raised eyebrow. “I knew my team wanted to hire me a new assistant since things didn’t work out with the last one – didn’t realize they’d pick someone so hot. Would you wanna have sex with me?”

“Dieter, I don’t think you’re cleared for those types of activities,” you chuckle, “I’m here for whatever you might need though.”

“Can you get me my phone?” he asks with those puppy-dog eyes he does best.

“Sure,” you reach for your purse digging around and find his phone, handing it over to him. “The passcode is 332016”

“The fuck? Why would I change it from the classic 42069?” he asks, looking at you with confusion.

“It’s uh… an important day to you,” you say, looking away, not wanting him to see the tears forming in your eyes. The day you met. 

“So, did I have an accident on set?”

“Yeah, you were scaling a building and the cable holding you snapped. You fell a good distance and smacked your head on the ground.”

“Wait,” Dieter says looking at his phone calendar, pointing it towards you, “Why does this say it’s 2024?”

“Because it’s not 2016,” you shrug, “It’s 2024.”

“How long have I been in a fucking coma?” Dieter asks, starting to panic again, frantically searching through the contacts in his phone, “Why can’t I find my dealer's number? I need coke. Wait, you’re my fucking assistant – go get me coke!”

“You’ve only been in a coma for two weeks and the only coke I’ll get you is Coca Cola,” you say crossing your arms, “I won’t let you have drugs in m– the house, Dieter.”

“Wait, my assistant lives with me?” he gasps, “You’re just supposed to come when I call you.”

“Different kind of assistant here.”

“Wait, I can’t have you in my house! I see that ring on your finger – I don’t want to get in between a marriage,” Dieter says, pointing at your left hand.

“It’s– it’s complicated right now,” you shrug.

“Fine, stay in my house, but stay out of my way,” Dieter sighs in frustration.

This is going to be a lot harder than you thought. He doesn’t remember who you are to him. He doesn’t remember getting clean when he married you. He doesn’t remember anything. Going home that night doesn’t help either because Luna wants to know what’s going on with her dad.

“Andy said that daddy woke up!” Luna says vibrating with excitement, “How come he’s not home?

“I had to leave him at the hospital because he’s still sick, honey.” You sit down on the plush couch in the living room, “Come here. I wanna talk to you about something.”

“Okay,” Luna hesitantly says, coming to sit next to you.

“Daddy is still sick. He looks fine but his brain is sick right now.”

“What’s that mean?” she questions, looking at you with the same eyes as her father.

“He doesn’t remember some stuff about his life right now,” you continue, “But we are gonna try to help him get it back. We have to think of the best memories we have with daddy so that maybe he’ll remember better.”

“So, we have to fix daddy?” she asks with tears in her eyes as you grab her into a hug, stroking her hair.

“Yeah, sweet girl, we have to fix daddy,” you say, trying not to cry yourself.

–

What was supposed to only be a few days turned into a week at the hospital. A week of playing Dieter’s assistant and having him boss you around. He was still adamant on getting drugs, but you put your foot down on that one. You weren’t going to let him ruin his seven years of sobriety just because he lost his memory.

“Alright Mr. Bravo looks like you’re all set to leave. Just need you to sign a couple of papers here and then you can be on your way,” the doctor says, handing him the papers.

“Fucking finally,” Dieter groans, “Not that this isn’t a wonderful hospital, but I’d much rather be home.”

“Of course,” the doctor says.

“Will you go ahead and bring the car around? I’d rather not walk too much considering my condition,” Dieter asks, looking at you.

“Of course, D– Mr. Bravo,” you grit through your teeth with the most customer service smile you can muster. That was a new development, Dieter wanting you only to refer to him as Mr. Bravo. You rush out of the room so that it doesn’t blow up into another argument. He’s already tried to fire you twice because of the no drugs thing. You had to make up some story of how you’re in a five-year contract that cannot be broken and tell him three times before he finally bought the story.

Pulling the car around to the front of the hospital, you see him being wheeled out.

“Thank you again so much for taking care of me,” he says, winking at the nurse, “Best care I’ve ever received!”

“No problem at all, Dieter,” she giggles. 

“Could I possibly get your number?” Dieter asks, looking expectantly at the nurse after getting settled into the passenger seat of the car. She shakes her head violently.

“No, sorry,” she says before running off wheeling the wheelchair back into the building.

“Well, that was fucking weird,” Dieter says, looking at you. “Did I do something wrong? Most women don’t literally run from me like that.”

“No, Mr. Bravo, you didn’t do anything wrong,” you growl, “Nothing at all.”

You begin to play a song you hope might bring back some sort of memory of you. With all the hope you can muster you hit play and hear Clint Eastwood by Gorillaz, one of the songs you guys would listen to while you got high together. Dieter starts to chuckle listening to the song.

“What?” you snap at him.

“It’s just this song,” Dieter said grinning, “It reminds me of someone.”

“Oh?” you ask, trying not to pry too much hoping he’ll just continue talking.

“Yeah, I can’t remember what her name is, though. Good lay, that’s for damn sure,” he says, laughing a little, “All I remember is she wasn’t even in the business, she’d call me out on all my shit, and we would smoke weed together listening to this song a lot. I think that’s why I liked her. Wonder what she’s up to these days?”

“Oh um… who knows, maybe she’s still in town?” Your heart swells realizing he’s talking about you, that he remembers some remnants of you. 

“No way!” Dieter says and sighs, “Way too fucking good for someone like me anyways. Probably found some nice guy, got married, has kids, the whole white picket fence shit and everything. She was way out of my league.”

Pulling up to the house you don’t even know what to say to him. He looks almost defeated in a way and then looks confused when he sees the front door opening.

“Oh no,” you whisper, watching Luna run to the car, “Dieter, wait here. Do not move!”

“Why the fuck are there children at my house?” he asks while you’re getting out, but you shut the door behind you, ignoring him.

“Luna, baby, I need you to go back into the house. Daddy’s sick, remember?” you say, trying to usher her back up the driveway.

“Mommy!” Leo shrieks, running to you.

“Fuck – I mean fudge,” Andy says, frantically running out to the driveway, “I was in the bathroom. She must’ve heard the car, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“The hell is going on here?” Dieter’s voice booms while getting out of the car, “I asked you why there are kids in my house.”

“Da–” Luna starts, but you cut her off.

“You two, inside. Now,” you say, ushering them towards Andy. Once they’re inside you whip around to look at Dieter standing by the car.

“You,” you snarl, walking towards him, “Screw what the doctor said. I’ve had enough of this shit. I’m not your fucking assistant so stop bossing me around. I’m your wife – those two are our children!”

“Wha–” Dieter stares at you with wide eyes, “D– DNA Test, I want a fucking DNA test!”

“Dieter, there isn’t a need for a DNA test because they’re your kids. I mean, did you even look at them?”

“Those are not my kids, they look Latino,” he argues.

“Dieter!” you yell, “You are Latino.”

“Oh, yeah,” he whispers, looking down. “So, you’re my wife?”

“Yes, Dieter, I’m your wife. I’m the girl that would get high with you listening to Clint Eastwood.”

“Wild,” he says looking at the house, the ground below him, the yard, anywhere but you “Wild.”

–

It’s been a week at home now, but Dieter is trying his hardest to regain his memory after you lay everything out on the table for him. You show him pictures of your Las Vegas wedding, your pregnancy photos, the kids’ births – he finally relents to the truth when you show him their birth certificates with his name listed under Father. Luna has been trying to show him drawings that she’s done for him, but nothing is working. Poor Leo just wants to play superheroes, but at just three years old, he doesn’t understand what’s going on at all.

One night, after you put the kids to bed, Dieter comes to your bedroom.

“What if we had sex?” he suggests.

“Dieter, I don’t know if that would be a good idea,” you groan, flopping onto the bed rubbing your eyes.

“I’m just saying, what if we did?” he shrugs, “Was just a suggestion, but I get it.”

“Come here,” you say, patting the spot next to you in bed. He reluctantly sits down next to you as you open your arms as an invitation. “How about we cuddle?”

He nods, setting his head on your chest. You can tell he didn’t know what to do with his hands because he’s so tense. You grab one of them and push it around your back, hoping he’ll understand your silent suggestion. 

“Like this?” he whispers, carefully adjusting both arms to wrap around you.

“Just like that,” you hum, stroking the curls at the base of his neck, breathing his scent in for the first time in weeks. Clean laundry, a hint of eucalyptus, and something that’s so specifically Dieter.

“I like this,” Dieter purs, rubbing his head against your chest, “I wish so badly I could just remember everything.”

“I know D, I know,” you sigh, continuing to gently stroke his head, “We’ll get there.”

Dieter moves so his head is in the crook of your neck. You feel his lips begin to place soft kisses against your skin.

“Dieter,” you gasp, turning your head to look at him, “What are you doing?”

“I wanna make you feel better,” he says, giving you those puppy dog eyes you can never refuse. “You’ve had to deal with a lot and this is the only way I know how to try and make things right.”

“Okay,” you whisper, nodding your head. As much as you’ve avoided intimacy with Dieter while his memory was gone, he’s still your Dieter and you miss him. 

He starts nipping along your jaw and down your neck. One of his hands moves to your breast gently kneading it. His lips move down your throat to your chest, making his way down to your stomach and pushing your shirt up. He places several kisses around your navel down to the top of your underwear, looking up at you again for confirmation. “It’s okay,” you nod, giving him the go ahead. He peels them off your hips and down your legs, throwing them to the floor.

Without warning he flattens his tongue, licking a stripe up your seam. Working his tongue against your clit and back down to your entrance. Up and down, up and down.

“Fuck, baby, I’ve missed this,” you cry out, running your fingers through his hair, “Feels so fucking good!”

Dieter starts humming, loving the praise you were giving him. His tongue continues circling your bundle of nerves, hoping to hear more words of praise.

“Taste so fucking good,” he says breaking away, “Best pussy I’ve ever had.”

You grip his hair tightly and shove his face back to your core. It’s almost embarrassing how quickly you can feel your orgasm approaching.

“Please don’t stop,” you moan, “I’m so fucking close!”

Dieter doubles down his efforts after hearing those words. He’s determined to get you off now. One of his hands makes its way to your center, teasing your entrance before plunging two of his thick fingers inside, curling them up to hit that spot only he’s ever been able to reach.

“Oh, fuck,” you cry out, back arching, “Y– yes, just like that!”

He starts grunting, rutting into the mattress, so badly needing to make you come. He knows you’re close, listening to your breathing and hearing the pitch of your moans. 

“D,” you moan, while he grabs your thighs, pulling you unbelievably closer to his face to completely devour you before sliding his fingers back into you. “I’m gonna come!”

“Give it to me, baby, come on,” he says, pulling away panting before diving back in for more, “I need it”. He feels the way your legs begin to shake, your walls fluttering around his fingers.

“Fuck,” you hiss, head thrown back against the pillow closing your eyes, “I– I’m gonna… god.”

Dieter feels your walls constrict around his fingers and hums, collecting your release slowly. He takes his time licking you clean before you push him away, feeling overly sensitive. When you finally open your eyes to look at him, you notice his smile and a glint in his eyes. He crawls back up the length of your body and you grab his face, kissing him deeply tasting yourself on his tongue.

“I can’t believe you married me,” he says, breaking the kiss and wrapping his arms around you again, “Love me forever?”

“Dieter, I’m pretty sure I’ve already proven that I’ll love you forever,” you softly chuckle, beginning to stroke his back.

–

The doctor keeps saying to just be patient, that it’s going to take time for Dieter’s memory to return. But it feels like it’s been forever as another week passes. Everyone is getting frustrated, especially Leo.

“Why is daddy broke?” Leo screams at the top of his lungs, “He no play with me!”

“Leo, Daddy just doesn’t feel good,” you try to explain.

“He no like me!” Leo wails, “He only likes Luna.”

“Leo, daddy does too like you,” you try telling him, “He loves you very much.” 

“No,” Leo cries as you scoop him up as he buries his face into your shoulder.

“Shh, it’s okay, baby. It’s okay,” you soothe.

It wasn’t that Dieter wasn’t trying with the kids, he just didn’t know how. His dad instincts hadn’t been brought back full-force. He was great with Luna –  engaged in conversation with her, drew pictures with her, watched her put on fashion shows. With Leo though, he didn’t know how to interact with a toddler. Leo would get upset and Dieter didn’t know what to do besides call you for help. Before Dieter’s accident Leo was his little buddy, followed him everywhere, would play with him for hours being superheroes or whatever Leo decided on that day.

You were able to get Leo to calm down and because of his tantrum he wound up falling asleep. After putting him in his bed for a nap you went to search for Dieter.

“Hey,” you sigh, seeing him standing by the window looking into the backyard.

“Hey,” he says sniffling, wiping his sleeve against his nose, “I’m so sorry.”

“Dieter, I’m not the one you should be saying sorry to. Leo misses you! I know that you’re trying, I do, but I need you to try harder for him,” you sigh, “I can’t pretend that I even know what you’re going through, but our baby boy is hurting because he misses his dad!”

“I know,” Dieter says turning around, you could now see the tears falling down his face, “It’s just… he scares me! It’s easier with Luna because I can understand every word she says, she can show me things, she doesn’t throw a tantrum every five minutes.”

“Dieter, he’s your son! Not some little monster to be scared of! He’s three and doesn’t know any better,” you scold him, “Like I said, I just need you to try.”

“Okay,” Dieter agrees, wiping the tears off his face, “When he wakes up from his nap, I’ll try.”

Dieter could hear Leo awake in his room as he slowly made his way there.

“Dad-Bomb an’ dude-bomb! To rescue!” Leo says, jumping off his bed with a cape around his shoulders. Dieter stands in the doorway observing him. Why did that sound so familiar? Dad-Bomb.

“Hey Leo,” Dieter says cautiously, “What are you playing?”

“Superhero,” Leo smiles, “Want to play with me?”

“Can I?” Dieter exclaims, “I’ve always wanted to be a superhero!”

“Yeah!” Leo shouts, running to his closet to grab something. He comes back out with a big purple cape with D-B on the back, handing it to Dieter. “Put on your cape.”

Dieter pulls the cape around his neck, tying it so it wouldn’t fall off. He notices Leo’s little green cape he was wearing also had D-B on the back.

“Do we have names, Leo?” Dieter asks, “I can’t help but see we have stuff on the back of our super-awesome capes!”

“I’m Dude-Bomb, you’re Dad-Bomb!” Leo gleefully exclaims 

“Dad-Bomb?”

“Yeah, like ‘da-bomb’ –  means super cool,” Leo giggles.This was starting to feel extremely familiar to Dieter. 

Leo scampers off to his closet again, rummaging through it trying to find something. He comes back holding a piece of paper and hands it to Dieter. Dieter holds it up, staring at it. His drawing of Dad-Bomb and Dude-Bomb, fighting crime together, and it all comes rushing back.

“Oh my god, Leo,” Dieter yells.

He picks Leo up, swinging him around. Hearing the commotion, you start running towards Leo’s room fearing the worst. Rounding the corner into the room, you saw Dieter crying, hugging Leo tightly and swinging him back and forth.

“Dad-Bomb and Dude-Bomb!” Dieter exclaims, grinning from ear to ear.

“Yeah, that’s you an’ me!” Leo announces proudly.

“Everything okay?” you ask quietly, looking at both of them.

“Yeah. March 3, 2016 – that’s the day I met you,” Dieter says, tears rolling down his face.

“Oh my god,” you gasped, “Baby.”

“Yeah, baby. It’s all back,” he says, setting Leo back down and rushing to grab you in a tight embrace, “I’m back.”

[thepinkpanther83]

The Stray (Part 2)

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

The Stray – Morning After

The sound of Wayne’s boots retreating down the porch steps faded into the hush of early morning. A thin thread of autumn light filtered through the kitchen curtains, dust motes drifting lazily in the air. The smell of coffee lingered, comforting and faintly bitter.

You stood barefoot on the tile, Eddie’s borrowed flannel swallowing your frame. It smelled like him: campfire, motor oil, and something sharp and clean that made your chest ache in a way you couldn’t quite name.

Eddie was across the kitchen, hunched over the stove with his hair tied back in a low, messy bun. He wore a pair of threadbare sweats and a vintage Metallica tee with a hole near the collar. His concentration was fixed on the frying pan in front of him on the stove.

"Are you actually cooking?" you asked, your voice still rough with sleep but lighter than it had been in days.

He looked up, startled, but pleasantly so. "I cook more than you’d think. Wayne taught me. Told me a man should know how to feed himself in case no one else will."

You gave a soft smile. "Smart man."

"Yeah," Eddie agreed, cracking an egg into the pan one-handed. He smirked at you over his shoulder. "Also thinks I’m a human raccoon who can survive off Pop-Tarts and rage alone, so… the jury’s still out."

You chuckled, and for the first time since yesterday, it wasn’t hollow.

Eddie turned the burner down and moved to pour you a cup of coffee. He held it out without a word. Your fingers brushed his when you took it, and neither of you pulled away for a second too long.

"Thanks," you murmured, curling your hands around the warmth of the mug.

Eddie leaned against the counter beside you, sipping his own coffee. The silence stretched between you, but not awkward, not tense, just soft. Like the whole trailer park was still waking up, and you were sharing the moment in quiet agreement.

"You wanna talk about it?" he asked eventually, his voice low.

You shook your head slowly. "Not yet."

"Okay." He didn’t press. Just nodded like that was good enough. Like you were good enough, just as you were.

After a few sips of coffee, you nudged him gently with your elbow. "You didn’t have to let me stay, y’know."

"Didn’t even think about it," he said honestly. "Saw you there, lookin’ like the whole damn world sat on your chest. Couldn’t just walk away."

You looked down at your mug, cheeks warm. “Well… thanks for being a soft place to land.”

Eddie smiled then, soft and a little crooked. “Guess we’re both strays, huh?”

"Wayne’s gonna need a bigger house," you teased.

That made Eddie laugh, like really laugh, and the sound of it made something shift in your chest. Something old and scared, that hadn’t believed anyone would care enough to make you breakfast or let you cry on their couch.

Eddie noticed the shift too, the quiet glimmer of something in your eyes. He ducked his head, bashful all of a sudden. "Weird thing for me to say, but... I’m kinda glad you’re here."

You tilted your head, watching him carefully. "Even if I eat all your cereal and hog your blankets?"

He grinned. "Especially then. It means you're staying long enough to get comfortable."

Your heart stuttered at that. Not because it was a declaration, but because it wasn’t. It was something quieter. Kinder. The way someone looks at a scared animal and holds out a hand, palm up.

And for the first time in a long while, you thought maybe you could reach back.

Don't know who to tag, who loves Eddie Munson, show of hands! 😂 Let me know if you want to be tagged (or untagged!)

@justalotoffanfiction, @yorshie, @jackalope-in-a-storm

[thesunhatesme]

Dew eats leftovers for breakfast because breakfast food is disgusting, so why should he eat soggy cereal with milk, or a dry piece of bread with something as gross as cheese or ham on it, when he can eat some delicious pasta or other good and tasty food?

The pack thinks it’s weird and wrong, but Dew will not eat a regular breakfast. The pack has tried to get him to at least try, but he refused. His breakfast habits have now started to rub off on Phantom, who now also eats leftovers for breakfast. The pack has given up.