#tea mugs set of 6

[momentzindia]

 Enjoy your favorite brew in style with our delightful small tea cups. Despite their petite size, these cups pack a punch with their exquisite design and impeccable craftsmanship. Perfect for adding a touch of charm to your daily tea rituals.

[venacoeurva]

I think after taxes and a chunk of comms and all that are done I'll reward myself with a new glass mug, especially if I have to retire my rainbow one due to lead paint (gotta test it)...

[vineet123]

Best Ceramic Coffee Mugs.

These 6 high-quality mugs from Merakrt will add flair to your coffee break. Ensuring a stable grip and a comfortable handle, each 300ml capacity model is designed with a conical diamond shape. The Absolute Green glaze adds a contemporary touch to this set.

[merakrt]

Merakrt Black Copper Pipe Coffee Mug Set- Handmade Ceramic Mugs for Tea and Coffee, Microwave Safe, Elegant Black Color Mugs, Perfect for Tea Coffee Lovers

[yelenasdiary]

for the a widows sunshine series what about when y/n’s school is having like one of those parent days where the kids parents come to the school to do fun activities and natasha has to tell her that she can’t make it because of work or something like that and y/n is really sad about that.

so instead wanda surprises her by showing up for her which makes y/n really excited. i didn’t have a specific age in mind but maybe this could be for the 5-10 age range.

Afternoon Tea Party

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Daughter! Reader, Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: When your mom can’t get out of work for a kindergarten event, Wanda takes it upon herself to surprise you. 

Tiny Angst, Comfort

Warnings: None | 0.9K

AC: Thank you for sending this! Reader is 5 in this, perfect for just before they call Wanda ‘mama’ at age 6! I hope you enjoy this! x 

A Widow’s Sunshine Masterlist

“Rough night?” Wanda asked Natasha while the red head poured herself a mug of coffee. “Nah, I just dropped Y/n off at kindergarten and spend 20 minutes in the parking lot to get her to stop crying before I walked her in” Natasha replied, sipping her coffee. 

“Is she okay?” Wanda asked.

“She has this afternoon tea thing, and I can’t get out of training the new recruits so I can’t go. She was really excited about it” Natasha explains, sighing to herself knowing she had let her daughter down. “Why don’t I go? I mean, only if you’re okay with it” Wanda suggested, causing a soft smile to tug at Nat’s lips. 

“You would do that?” She asked. 

“Of course, I’d love too” the brunette smiled. Nat kissed her softly, “you are a life saver, thank you! It starts at 1pm, take my credit card and buy a fruit salad or something to take” she replied. 

“Don’t stress, I’ve got this. You on the other hand, don’t need this” Wanda said, taking the coffee from Nat’s hand, “you only drink more than one cup of coffee when you’re stressed, have some juice or water and leave the rest up to me!” She added. 

----

You, along with your other classmates helped the teacher set up the family event by placing a spread of snacks on the table for guests to help themselves too. You wished your teacher would let you sit in her office to draw while everybody else had fun but your teacher said no and encouraged you to take part in the event. 

As parents started to arrive, you only got sadder knowing that you’d be one of the only students without your parent showing up. It was moments like these that you hated your mother’s job and didn’t understand why she couldn’t come. 

Quietly, you snuck off to the corner of the classroom where the books were and made yourself comfortable on one of the beanbags and looked at the picture book in hopes of ignoring the event taking place around you. 

“What are you reading there?” A familiar voice made you look up from the picture book. 

“Wanda!!” You jumped up, dropping the book and instantly giving her a tight hug, “are you here for afternoon tea?” You asked, looking up at her. 

“I sure am! I even brought some apple and orange slices; can you show me where I can put them?” Wanda asked with a soft smile. You took her free hand and took her to the snack table where she placed the fruit slices down. “Over here we have drinks you can help yourself too! Do you want a drink?” You asked, full of happiness. 

Wanda loved seeing how happy and excited you were for her to be here, “Sure! I could do with a drink” she replied before you rushed over to the drinks table and waited for Wanda to help you pour some juice for the two of you. 

After you and Wanda enjoyed your juice, you took Wanda to the wall where plenty of artwork was hanging, you showed her the painting of the beach you had painted a few days ago before showing her the robot you made from boxes which you named uncle tony. 

“And this is a folder is all about me!” You said, giving her the folder with your name on the front that you had proudly decorated. Just as Wanda started to have a good look through the folder, one of your teachers had announced that it was time to take your family member or family friend to one of the activity tables to take part in. You had your eyes set on the paper puppet making table and quickly grabbed Wanda’s hand before rushing over to the table. 

You grabbed a piece of green A4 paper while Wanda grabbed a pink piece of paper. “I’m going to make a frog!” You beamed as you reached for a piece of red paper. Wanda smiled softly before she had a quick look over the instructions sheet, once she had an idea of how to make a paper puppets, she offered to fold your green paper as shown in the instructions.

“What are you going to make Wanda?” You asked, using the kid friendly scissors to begin cutting out the shape of your frog’s tongue. 

“I think I might make a little bunny” Wanda replied as she finished up folding the green paper for your frog. “I like bunnies! I wish I could have one as a pet, but mommy says we can’t have pets in our new home” you replied.

“An apartment is no place for a bunny, maybe you could ask to keep one at your uncle Clint’s house” the brunette suggested. You face lit up at the idea, “I’m going to ask her when I go home today!!” You smiled before reaching for the glue. 

Wanda helped you glue some extra pieces of paper on the head for the eyes and even helped you cut out some white and black circles to make the eyes, once satisfied with your frog, you wrote your name on the back and placed the crafty frog on your hand. 

“I’m going to name her Miss Hoppies!” You smiled at Wanda. 

“Miss Hoppies looks awesome! Do you think she will like being friends with Cupcake?” Wanda replied, placing the bunny puppet on her hand. You chuckled at the name Wanda had picked for her puppet, “that’s a funny name for a bunny” you said, “but I like it!” You added. 

The two of you then played with the puppets together, having Wanda surprise you made you forget the reason why your mother couldn’t come. Although you were still sad that you couldn’t do this with her, you couldn’t wait to show her the puppets you and Wanda had made.

Taglist: @koinsss | @liloandstitchstan | @marcia-maximoff | @skittlebum | @katethewritersblog | @taliiiaasteria | @nova-kyle | @daddipantherr | @riyaexee | @sgm616 | @elle161989 | @alphalesbianwolffoxdragontribrid | @mathxa | @sxlfishbrokenheart | @noturlondonboy | @lovelyy-moonlight | @ghxst-guts | 

If you want to be on the taglist for this series, please see the masterlist. It's linked at the top of this post.

[darsynia]

Heyyy. I hope ur requests are open. Anyways. Can I get a shot of tequila w/ Steve Rogers and the reader reunited after like 6 months apart because he went on the run and didn’t want to disrupt her life. Like maybe she was on Tony’s side in Civil War but helped Steve anyway because they were together since CA:WS. She tracks him down in Switzerland and he comes home to the safe house to see her heels by the door like they usually would be back in New York. Then he sees her sitting in the dark, save for the fireplace, and they argue about how he can try to leave but she will find him everytime because she loves him. So they have some “reunion fun” and maybe after, they’re having some pillow talk where she’s worried that he’s been with other women in 6 months apart. because let’s be fair, we can’t blame her. have you seen the nomad-hair ‘n beard?… 😭

Thanks for the request, nonnie! I couldn't work in the very last bit, but hopefully you'll enjoy. Rating is NC-17, minors DNI. 1,800 words. (I forgot to add, 180F is a good temperature for green tea--and yeah, a kettle would be in C probably but bear with me for the metaphor ❤️)

180

The chilly wind is not the reason Steve feels cold on his walk home. He’s living in a fully furnished home for the first time in six months, but nothing about the space feels welcoming. He can’t settle. Somehow the many barracks he’s lived in over the years made him feel more comfortable, and he knows the reason why.

You’re not there.

The thought stings, and he grits his teeth, keeping his eyes on the road. The last thing he wants to do is look familiar, and maybe that’s the problem. If he’s not allowed to be Steve Rogers, no amount of handmade quilts and cozy living room furniture will make him feel at home.

He rounds the corner, pulling out his key with a half of a block to go. The rental is quiet, out of the way, obscure, even. Half the time even he struggles to find it. From three houses away, he sees a pair of deep red heels next to his front door, as incongruous among the quaint townhomes in Willisau as a palm tree. The spasm in his chest isn’t something the serum in his veins can heal, but Steve tells himself nothing’s really there. He’s imagined your shoes waiting outside of almost every place he’s laid his head since he left, and now it’s Switzerland’s turn.

He studiously ignores his lintel as he unlocks the door and goes inside.

 Steve’s sure he’s right when everything is the same as he’d left it. You've never failed to leave your personal touch in his living spaces--a hand knit scarf hung next to his coats, a delicate bunch of flowers on the table in a vase he'd long ago forgotten he owned.

The orange of sunset stretches across the floor from a back window, and he can smell the tang of woodsmoke, a familiar occurrence in this neighborhood. It isn't until he puts his shoes and keys away and pads into the kitchen that he finally realizes he’s not alone.

The smoke smell isn’t from outside. The fireplace is lit, and when Steve steps into the doorway, he sees a familiar, precious silhouette. Even though you have to have heard him, you don’t turn around, so he chooses discretion as the better part of valor. You’ve always said a warm cup of tea is comforting after a long day, and it has been that.

He sets the temperature on the kettle, places two mugs, and then goes looking for tea, concern and frustration growing. You've never not greeted him, but those had always followed a goodbye, something Steve hadn't had the courtesy to give when he'd left. The first two cabinets yield nothing, and you haven’t spoken or come in, yet.

Then, suddenly, you’re there, walking in and showing him exactly where the tea is, right in time for the kettle’s finishing beep. You’ve always been like that, exactly what he needs at exactly the right time, and that hasn’t changed. It’s damning and loving all at once.

Steve grabs at one of the tins, but you set a light hand on his, leaving it there are you say something about temperatures and tea leaves. He’s barely listening, focused on the way your touch has jump-started his heart, his lungs, and… everything else.

“Steve!” you say, snatching your hand back and giving him an affectionate, frustrated look. It’s more the latter than the former, but at this point he’s parched soil grateful for a slight drizzle. “Did you hear any of that? I asked what temperature you set the kettle.”

“Uh, whatever the default is?”

Brand new to this kitchen though you are, you pick it up and start it again, noting that the water bubbles up right away. “212 is my guess. That’s too hot for this. It’s green.”

Steve very much wants to point out that all tea is green, but he knows better. Instead, he says, “We can pour it out and start over?”

You look at him for a long moment, your body a foot and several hard conversations away, and finally nod. Neither of you say anything as the new water heats up, but Steve feels the metaphorical distance between the two of you narrow as you breathe each other’s air for the first time in forever.

When the kettle finally sounds, it’s somehow familiar. In his head Steve feels another timer go off, and he heeds it.

“I’m--” he starts to say, but you interrupt.

“I know.”

To hide his apprehension, Steve grabs the sugar, a spoon, and an amused look. “You don’t know what I was going to say!”

“I know all of them. You’re sorry. You’re not coming home. You’re doing this for my own good. You’re lonely.”

“You’re right.”

“I know.”

The two of you settle next to each other on the couch with a not inconsiderable amount of painful distance between you. That doesn’t translate to the conversation, though. It’s full of honesty (“I didn’t want to leave. I wish it didn’t have to be this way, but I’m not done with the things that need to be done, and it’s not safe for you here.”) from both sides  (“You’re physically gone and I hate that, but emotionally, I know you don’t want to let me go. I’m always with you, and I’ll always find you. There’s no one that can keep me safer than you can.”).

Once the tea’s long gone and the fire has died down to embers, neither of you have said the most important words, the healing words. 

Finally you whisper them, tears welling up in your eyes. “Steve, I love you. It doesn’t have to be like this.”

He opens his mouth, certain of his mission, as sacrificial as it is--but you slide up beside him, warm and loving and his.

“It can be like this,” you rasp, sliding your hand along his chest and up into his hair to pull his lips down to yours.

Steve groans in gratitude, angling his head in welcome and grasping at your hips to drag you onto his lap where you belong. He sends up a prayerful apology to any member of his family that still checks the earthly realm to watch him live a sinless life. Today is not that day. 

You’re wearing soft dress pants, just loose enough for him to slide his hand past your waistband, thumbing caresses along the heat of your inner thigh until your hitching ‘yes’ of a sigh gives him more explicit permission. He’d missed your body, missed this, the warm slick of your welcoming folds, the way you gasp and tense when he strokes you. This angle shouldn’t work, but he’s strong, and he knows how much you love that, so he nuzzles the join between your neck and shoulder, breathing you in.

You release your deathgrip on his shirt to snake your hand up into his hair, dragging your fingernails deliciously against his scalp. Your movements are imprecise and shaky, a testament to his own erotic movements, and Steve groans aloud at the realization. The timbre of your voice as you whisper his name hints at how close to orgasm you are, and he takes the opportunity to escalate his onslaught.

“Let go, sweetheart,” he whispers against your skin, thrusting his fingers inside at unpredictable intervals to prolong your pleasure. You have always both loved and hated that, wanting instead to lose yourself in the rhythm of predictable movements--but your most vocal climaxes come just like this.

Steve backs off again, and you roll your hips, tempting him to return. “I’ll never let go,” you growl, pushing off just far enough to start unbuckling his pants. “You should know that.”

It’s an inflection point, and though Steve’s a soldier, he doesn’t fight you. You’d been so close your whole body had started to tremble, but instead of taking what you could from him and then shifting the mood, you’d taken the route of self-sacrifice. Those thoughts flee the battlefield when you urge him to lift up enough to tug his pants out of the way. Impatience sings through his veins. He wants to take charge and--

“Oh,” he says. The whole world shifts from black and white to color as you slide down between his legs, taking him in your mouth. He’s almost too sensitive for this, grabbing a fistful of the couch instead of your hair, knowing his own strength. You anchor yourself with a hand grasping that same forearm, moaning as you suck as if feeling the flex of his muscles is itself erotic.

Steve knows the whining noise he can hear is coming from his own throat, but doesn’t care about anything but the surging joy of this moment. You know exactly how to work him, adding everything he loves about you, about the ‘us’ he’d wanted to build with you. When he’s almost, almost there, when he knows your next move would be a deep-throated encouragement to spill in your mouth, you pull back.

The lesson is sharp and warranted, but Steve’s trust doesn’t waver. He looks down at you--‘submissive’ at his feet but fully in charge of the moment--and nods. I get it. Your light smile and little squeeze of his arm before you get up feels more like home than anything in months.

“I love you,” he says, and means it more than he ever, ever has.

“Hasn’t anyone told you not to say that in the middle of sex?” you tease, moving fluidly to shed the rest of your clothing. The only thing you keep on is your electric blue bra, and Steve lets out a tiny little noise of want when he sees it. It’s his favorite. Eight months ago you’d tried to get rid of it and he’d snatched it up out of the ‘to toss’ pile and buried it in his drawer, the drawer you’d given him in your bedroom for when he slept over.

He hadn’t wanted to leave it behind, to leave you behind, but it felt like the right thing to do at the time. Now, looking at your sultry, challenging expression, he truly understands the mistake he made.

Steve opens his mouth to tell you how beautiful you look in the firelight, how sorry he is that he ever thought he could walk away to make your life safer, how--

“Prove it, soldier,” you tell him. The words are confident, but there’s a waver in your tone that he put there.

He reaches for you, pulling you onto him, into him, straight through his skin, your sighs writing your name on his heart. It's exactly where you, where he belongs. The result is a rolling boil, a volley of exploding shells, a Brooklyn apartment with a pair of red heels at the door.

It’s been a battle, but he’s home.

[digitalfishwish]

Kit's Traybake Pancakes (cinnamon apple var.) - Updated!

Love eating pancakes but hate making them? This traybake pancake recipe may be for you! Making these gives me enough pancake squares for 6 days (5 if you eat two on the day you make them). They’re fluffy, reheat well, can either be eaten with or without maple syrup, and are very customizable! I recommend adding fruit and protein powder like I do in this recipe, making it a (slightly) healthier breakfast than just pure carbs.

(Updated) instructions under the cut!

Full disclosure, the base for this recipe was the mug pancake recipe from Emma’s Goodies, which you can watch here!

I made this mug pancake for years (except with tripled portions because I was using a very big mug) and it was super delicious! However, for just one mug pancake, it was a bit of a production and didn’t feel super worth it. Thusly, I have adapted the recipe to be made in a 13”x9” baking tray, which makes a whole lot of breakfast.

Recipe (serving size: 2 squares):

Base Ingredients:

12 tbsp. butter (I use salted, if you don’t have salted butter, add a small amount of kosher salt to your recipe)

9 tbsp. (1/2 cup+ 1 tbsp) granulated sugar

12 fl.oz. milk (I use skim, use whatever kind you like)

3 cups all-purpose flour

3 tsp. baking powder

Customizable Ingredients:

1 scoop protein powder (I use vanilla flavored whey)

1/4 cup of maple syrup (ideally not pancake syrup, they’re different)

1 apple (I use McIntosh or Honeycrisp)

A piping hot cup of apple tea with a heaping tablespoon of honey

Nutmeg, cinnamon, cardamom to taste, for sprinkling on top

Base Instructions:

Heat oven to 375°F, take out a 13”x9” nonstick baking pan and spray bottom and sides with cooking spray (yes theoretically I know you don’t need to spray a nonstick pan but better safe than sorry).

If you choose to put apple chunks in, I recommend doing this step first. I personally like to let the chunks soak in my favorite loose leaf apple tea (non-sponsored plug)! Boil a cup of water and fill the tea infuser with tea. Add a heaping tablespoon of honey to the cup and stir until it dissolves. Then put them infuser in and steep the tea for three minutes, after which you should give the mug a final stir and pour it into a bowl. See “customizable instructions, steps 2-4” for how I recommend cutting the apple. After that, put the peeled apple chunks into the bowl of delicious tea and let them soak until it’s time to add them later on!

If you’re not putting apple in, do this step first. Put butter in a bowl and melt it in the microwave. I recommend microwaving for 1m20s.

Put butter in a stand mixer, preferably with the paddle attachment. While you heat the milk in the microwave* (40 seconds, I use a glass liquid measuring cup), add the granulated sugar to the mixer. Once the milk is heated, give it a real quick stir, and then add it and use one of the lower settings on your mixer.

(If you have customizable wet ingredients, add them now!)

Add the flour and baking powder, mix again on low setting until it forms a batter (a small amount of lumps is okay from what I’ve heard, you don’t want to overmix).

*You can’t put cold milk into hot butter, it will form little clumps and be gross

Customizable Instructions:

Add a 1/4 cup of maple syrup (as above, preferably before the flour, with the other wet ingredients), and also one scoop of your preferred protein powder. Mix on low setting until it’s incorporated.

Peel the apple wedges with a peeler (don't use the skin, you'll thank me later). If you have an apple cutter (the thing that looks like a wheel with handles), use that. If you don’t:

Take your apple and a large, sharp knife (be careful) and cut the apple in half vertically. Then place it down with the core side up, and cut each apple half like so: cut off the left side, avoiding the core, followed by the right. Then turn what’s left of the half apple on its side, and cut off the last piece at the back. Do the same for the other apple half, then chop the segments into whatever sized chunks you want.

Use as much of it as you want, but I myself use the whole apple. (If you don’t, eat whatever segments you don’t intend to use for a lil snack.) Then put apple chunks into mixer, and half the tea if you made it, and mix until incorporated. (Drink what tea remains, it’s even more delicious now that the fresh apple’s been in it!)

Baking Instructions:

Pour batter into greased baking tray, shake the pan until the batter is flattened and reaches all the corners (or use a spatula and spread it evenly by hand). Optional: Sprinkle the top with cinnamon, nutmeg, and cardamom according to your tastes. I tend to have a heavy hand even if I don’t mean to, but it still comes out very tasty! (and smells great while baking!)

When the oven reaches temperature (if you preheated it at the beginning, it may have already been at temperature for a while) put the pan in and cook for 35 mins. Know your oven and if it tends to be hotter or colder*, adjust cook time as necessary.

When the timer goes off, test the center in several places with a toothpick. As long as it doesn’t come out goopy, you’re good! (crumbs on the toothpick is fine) I say test in several places because if you accidentally go through a piece of apple, your toothpick may come out slightly wet, but that doesn’t mean the pancakes aren’t done. If it's not done, cook in intervals of 5 minutes, testing each time the timer goes off.

Take pan out and use a butter knife or a pie serving spatula and poke around the edges of the pan to free the pancake traybake from the edges. Let cool for 10 minutes.

Cut into squares. I tend to cut 12 pieces, but you could go smaller or larger depending on how much you intend to eat at once.

*How do I know if my oven runs hot or cold, you may ask? If any recipe you make comes out raw and/or takes longer to cook than the instructions say, your oven is colder! If your food ends up burnt and/or takes less time to cook than the recipe instructions say, your oven is hotter!

Enjoy! I eat two squares at a time and it makes a good breakfast! For storing, put however much of it you can eat in 2-3 days in the fridge. Store the rest in the freezer.

For any customizing other than what I did, use whatever fruit, spices, syrups, and/or protein powders you want! Just be aware that more fruit in the batter means it may take longer to cook!

If you make them, either the same way I did here or differently, let me know how they came out!

OLD EDIT: After some experimentation, it seems like the pancakes come out more moist if baked for 35 minutes at 375°F! I also soak the apple pieces in a cup of “Apple Blood Tea” (find it on adagio teas, it’s super delish!) with honey at the beginning of the process, then add the ‘marinated’ apples and half a cup of the tea into the batter.

NEW EDIT 09/2024: I just changed the recipe whether it needed changing, since I realized that changing stuff behind the readmore didn’t transfer to previously reblogged posts 😫 I also added image descriptions.

[dystopicjumpsuit]

Cuddles and Snuggles?! 👀

Sign me up lol

I have a request if you feel inspired by it 👀

6. trying to crawl under their shirt with either Wrecker or Kix.

Because I would very much like to hide under their shirts than deal with the outside lol

If you think of someone that fits the prompt better, then do that instead! (Or you can entirely disregard this ofc lol)

😘💜💜💜

A/N: Moonie! I had this whole ficlet planned out, and then we chatted about this wonderful Wrecker art by @pinkiemme, and it took over my entire brain. So thank you both for inspiring me. 🖤♥️

Pairing: Wrecker x Reader (GN)

Rating: T (but as always, minors DNI)

Wordcount: 573

Warnings and tags: fluff, cuddles, established relationship shenanigans, very slightly suggestive dialogue, mild language

Summary: Wrecker is just so warm.

Suggested Listening (English translation here):

This fic smells like: Work From Home by Memoire Archives (cappuccino, caramel, biscotti)

Masterlist | Sign up for my tag list

You rolled over to find an empty bed. You groped blindly through the blankets, but Wrecker was nowhere to be found, and based on how cold the sheets were, he’d been gone a while. Grinding the palms of your hands into your eyes, you sat up, searching blearily for him. There was no sign of him, so you stumbled out of bed to form a rescue party of one. It wasn’t long before you saw the soft blue glow of his datapad as he curled up on the sofa in the darkness.

“Hey,” you whispered, your voice coming out in a hoarse croak. 

He looked up and smiled. “What’re you doin’ up?”

“I got cold,” you replied. “Can’t sleep?”

He shook his head.

“I’ll make us some caf,” you said.

“Already got some moogan tea,” he replied, holding up a steaming mug. 

Screw the caf, then, you decided, immediately crossing the room to plop down next to him. You leaned your head against his shoulder, wrapped your arms around his waist, and draped your legs across his thigh, tucking your feet against his calf.

“You really are cold,” Wrecker said with a laugh as he felt your frigid toes.

“Warm me up?” you pleaded, giving him the softest, most pathetic tooka eyes you could muster at such an early hour.

“C’mere, then,” he replied, adjusting your position so he could hold you a little closer while still staring over your head at his datapad.

“Reading something good?” you asked.

He kissed the top of your head. “Candy Crush.”

You laughed quietly and snuggled closer, teasing your chilled fingers beneath the hem of his shirt. He flinched away involuntarily, but when you pulled back, he let out a little grumble.

“It’s all right,” he said. “You just surprised me. Come back.”

You didn’t bother to put up even a token resistance, instead diving your icy hands enthusiastically back under his shirt. 

“Gods, you’re so warm!” you murmured, burrowing closer and sliding your hands further and further under his shirt, until you were practically wearing it with him.

“I do that on purpose so you’ll cuddle up to me,” he replied, holding back a laugh. “Comfy down there?”

“I’m working on it,” you replied. “You’re a really good heat source.”

“And you’re a really good icicle.” He set down his mug and wrapped his free arm around you. “You tryin’ to climb all the way inside my shirt?”

“Our shirt,” you replied, your voice slightly muffled by the fabric. “Besides, I’m not trying. I’m succeeding.”

“Well, maybe I should just carry you back to our bed so you can have a real blanket.”

“No, this is fine,” you replied from inside his—ahem—your shirt. “It’s cozy. I live here now.”

You felt the deep rumble of his chuckle against your cheek as you nuzzled your face against his chest. “You gonna pay rent?”

“Nah, I’m sleeping with the landlord. He’d never evict me.”

"You got that right." He shifted, and you heard the soft clatter of his datapad as he set it on the floor, then both of his arms closed around you. With seemingly no effort at all, he lifted you up and rolled the both of you over so you were tucked securely between him and the back of the sofa, wrapped in his embrace. He yawned loudly, and you knew he’d doze off within minutes. "Now stop squirmin’ and go back to sleep.”

 ---

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[xxxdreamscapexxx]

I don't want to hear thoughts... Unless they're yours.

Chapter 11: Let me help you relax Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader Word count: 2.8k Warning: A lot of fluffy moments and slight teasing. Maybe some anxiety and stress, but nothing heavy. Summary: Wanda wanted to live the normal life she was never afforded, but something was always missing. Something she denied herself and buried deep inside. But watching you move next door, she quickly realizes that this may not be possible for much longer. Especially with all the interesting things she found in your thoughts. Chapter summary: After some stressful days, Wanda wants to help you relax. And what better way than flirting and meditation. Part 1; Part 2; Part 3; Part 4; Part 5; Part 6; Part 7; Part 8 ; Part 9; Part 10; Part 11; Series materlist                                     Masterlist of all my works

After coming home that Sunday night, Wanda was exhilarated. She had gotten a taste of you, all willing and ready for her. Your cute little moans, the needy way you scratched at her back, the way you pulled her closer, your sweet taste, the pliable, easy way in which you accepted her dominance… It was all perfect. But as the days of the week started to pass by, Wanda found herself regretting that she didn’t secure that date with you when she had the chance. Every day the two of you saw each-other, shared small conversations and sweet little moments, you talked about your days and about your plans, she learned more about you, through short afternoon conversations on her porch, where she got to hold your hand, but she couldn’t muster up the courage to ask you out and it seemed that even though you thought about it too, you felt just as nervous. It was only through your thoughts that she found comfort during that time. She was in your mind more and more often, drawn to your ideas. You saw yourself sharing meals with her at night, you sent her recipes you thought she might like, while you were at the office, you imagined cute date ideas for the two of you, that she found simply adorable, making her heart flutter with joy. You were such a romantic soul, a sweet, delicate, sensitive one and as she got lost in your ideas, she couldn’t help but think on all the little dates she wanted to take you on. She just knew that you would melt if she took you to the big bookstore on main street, the one full of Paperblanks notebooks and gorgeous ceramic tea mugs. She would let you roam the shelves, telling her about your favorite books and letting you pick new ones, perhaps even picking a few together and she’d slip in a few notebooks and a nice fountain pen for you, before you reached the cash register. She would spoil you with everything you wanted there, knowing you would probably refuse to let her pay… But she had her ways of convincing you. She’d also love to take you to the lake, just outside of town, the two of you watching the sunset together. She’d kiss you slowly to the sound of the crickets and she’ll hold your hand as you walked. She’d take you to her favorite farmers market, buying you honey and cheeses and a bag of delicious apples, and she’ll invite you over to her house, so the two of you could bake a pie together, while the boys played. She’d take you to her favorite restaurant, of course, treat you to dinner and flirting with you, while she pretended that she didn’t undress you with her eyes. Perhaps she’ll start with that one. She wanted to set the right tone. Show you that she wasn’t just homely. Yes, it was better to start with a night out. But she’ll build up to all the rest as well.

By Wednesday night, after a particularly hard day at the office, the thought of Wanda seemed to be your biggest comfort too. You liked the domestic and kind approach the two of you had with each-other, you liked the afternoons you shared, the little kisses she left on your cheeks, liked making her laugh, even if you were telling the stupidest joke. You liked her casual teasing too, the way her voice would get low, when she flirted with you shamelessly, the lingering touches, the smouldering looks. It was driving you crazy in the best way possible, but even that couldn’t save you from the stress of the day. You were late this morning, having to rush out of your house and even that didn’t help. You couldn’t stop for coffee on your way, having to drink whatever they made in the office, you were swamped with work, you had to make last minute changes to key processes, meaning you’d have to document it all and honestly, it was driving you crazy. And yes, some of it was little things, but in the end, it all piled together. You knew that new projects are like this, you expected it, but this Wednesday it bothered you and you couldn’t shake that thought away when you got home 3 hours after the end of your regulated work hours. You were exhausted, yet you couldn’t switch your brain off and even the thoughts of Wanda couldn’t quite calm you down. You were seated near the pool again, a glass of wine next to you and your fingers frantically typing on your laptop, when a voice pulled you from your thoughts and you looked towards the source to see Wanda standing near your fence, her hands resting on it gently. “Good evening, Y/N.” She smiled gently, tentatively, as if unsure if she should be here. “I hope I’m not interrupting.” She looked away for a second, her voice unusually quiet and small. “Hi Wanda.” You smiled, putting your laptop away and approaching her, your hands landing on top of hers. “Is everything ok?” You asked, concerned. “Yes.” She nodded, even if her answer didn’t seem completely sincere. She had heard your frantic thoughts when you came home, followed them throughout the night as they continued to swirl around in your head, feeling your anxiety and stress as if they were her own, yet unable to pull away from you. She couldn’t just disentangle herself from you and leave you to face your inner turmoil and she couldn’t fight the way it affected her either. It was frightening how intertwined the two of you were, how deeply she felt your emotions, as if they were her own. Perhaps that fear didn’t help the way she felt either.

“Late night working?” She asked, trying to break the tension of the moment. “Yes. I couldn’t stop thinking about work, so I thought it’s best if I just help myself and actually do the work.” You admit. “Does it help?” She asks, already knowing the answer. “No. I’m still stressed. But I’m closer to meeting my deadlines.” You admit with a small, dry chuckle. “Perhaps I can help you relax?” Wanda offers boldly and watches the thought of the double meaning behind her words flash behind your eyes for a moment. “How forward of you, Miss Maximoff!” You joke, knowing very well that it’s not what she meant. “Well, what can I say. I can’t help myself. I see something I want and I just have to go after it.” She jokes back, happy to see some of the tension drain from your shoulders and instantly feeling relieved as well. “No, but honestly, have you ever tried meditating?” She asks, changing the subject. “I have.” You nod. “It never really worked for me, though.” You admit. “Well, perhaps I can teach you.” Wanda offers. “Oh really?” You raise a brow at her. You can’t help but notice that you already feel better, simply because she is here with you. “You have so many hidden skills, I see.” You comment as you walk to the nearby door and open it, so Wanda could enter, a small smile appearing on your lips. “You have no idea.” The older woman teases, walking into your yard. She makes a small pause, looking at you, before she speaks again. “It’s good to see you smiling.” She admits, her voice gentle and soft, just like her features. “Thank you.” Her words make you blush, your smile growing wider. Wanda can’t help but think that it’s one of the most beautiful things in the world. She’s tempted to kiss you right then and there, to sweep you off your feet and carry you into the house, so she can lay you down and kiss you, until your lips are swollen and your head is empty. She supposes that it’s a form of relaxation as well. “Can I offer you something to drink?” You ask, trying to distract yourself from the intensity in her gaze. “Whatever you’re having.” Wanda smiles as she follows you.

                                              *             *             * The two of you sit at the edge of the pool, feet dipped inside the warm water, a couple of glasses filled with wine near you as you talked. Wanda’s presence was enough to anchor you in the present, all your worries melting away, like they never existed. “Thank you for coming over.” You said to her, as you looked into her green eyes. “You always seem to have the best timing.” “I wanted to see you.” Wanda said with a shrug, but her attentive eyes didn’t miss the way you blushed again. “Speaking of which…” She continued. “I also want to ask you out on a proper date.” She tells you, her hand reaching out to take yours, your fingers touching playfully. “Let me take you out to dinner. I know a lovely restaurant in town.” She offers. “Let me spoil you for a night.” She continues, her voice starting to give away her hopeful eagerness. “Let me show you how well I can treat you.” “I’d like that very much.” You nodded, suddenly feeling shy at the woman’s intensity. You’d never met a woman like Wanda before. Someone so sure of themselves, someone who wanted you and wasn’t afraid to show it. “Then I’ll pick you up tomorrow night.” Wanda decided, hiding her smirk behind her glass as she took a small sip of the wine you had poured her. She already made plans in her head, thinking about every small detail about your date tomorrow, delighted that she’ll finally get to have what she had longed for, since you’d moved in.                                           *             *             * After the two of you finished your wine, Wanda could tell that you were feeling the pleasant buzz of alcohol, your thoughts slowing down, your eyes sparkling more, as you looked at her. She could tell that you wanted her, even without reading your thoughts and she did her best not to find out where those particular ideas were taking you, knowing that the temptation would be too great to resist. Instead, she suggested to step away from the pool, taking your hand and guiding you inside the house, so she’d finally give you that lesson on meditation that she had first offered you. You were sceptical at first, but when she sat down on the couch and spread her legs, leaving room for you to sit between them, you couldn’t help but smirk and do as you’re told. You would have to be crazy to refuse her closeness after all.

You felt a little uncomfortable to sit like that with her, but the moment you felt the warmth of her body envelop you, felt her sure hands secure you in place, all your doubts disappeared. “Close your eyes.” Wanda said softly, almost a whisper in your ear, while her hands guided you closer to her, your back pressed against her front. “Just listen to my voice.” The older woman continued, hands landing on your shoulders. “Let it carry you away, to a place where you feel safe and calm.” She said in an even tone. “Can you picture such a place for me?” Wanda asked, watching you nod slowly. Unbeknownst to you, she was slowly making her way into your mind, eyes swirling with red. She helped you to control your thoughts, breathing evening out, while she kept any of them from reaching you, allowing only that safe place to remain in your mind’s eye. “Try to hold that picture in your mind.” She instructed. Wanda could feel the tension of the day melting away, she could feel your muscles relax under her palms, she could see the image of a river, its clear water racing past you, as you lay on a field of grass, surrounded by treas. You were at peace there, she could tell and she amplified that image, making the colours brighter and more vibrant. She allowed the details to develop, until she hardly had to help you anymore, your mind settling in that place of perfect peace. You felt like you were in a dream. Your head was swimming, surrounded by thoughts, but none could reach you. Even the sounds felt distant, your senses dull. It was almost an out of body experience. A deep sense of calm had taken hold of you, the rest of the world melting away. There was only you and that beautiful place. Even Wanda’s voice felt like a far-away echo, your ears unable to distinguish the words she spoke. Once she felt that your mind had calmed, the redhead pulled away her powers as well, choosing to give you some privacy. She didn’t want to take too much advantage of the trust you placed in her, instead deciding to bask in the wonderful feeling of holding you into her arms.

                                          *             *             * You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that, the warmth of her body enveloping you and your mind staying in its little paradise. You just know that the image eventually started to fade away, Wanda’s words coming into focus again as she coaxed you back into a more aware state of mind. “How are you feeling?” She asked softly, after she gave you some time to fully come back to your senses. “Really well rested.” You admitted. “Thank you, Wanda.” “Wait till you get some sleep. You’ll wake up feeling even better tomorrow.” Wanda said with a smile, her eyes wandering over your face, a look of genuine affection clearly showing in her eyes. She had allowed you to sit on your own. Barely. But she was still seated close by. She didn’t want to miss this rare chance to look at you, to touch you and admire you, without having to worry about being seen or interrupted. She wanted to soak up your presence as much as she could. “Oh, I can’t wait for the weekend!” You answered slowly, groggily, like a person half-asleep already. “Sleeping in would be just magical.” Wanda only laughed at that statement. You looked so adorable like this. All sleepy and buzzed from the wine and completely boneless after she’d helped you relax. You were too cute for your own good. At another time, in another life, she wouldn’t hesitate to take you like this. You’d cling to her helplessly, whining for her attention, begging wordlessly for her to stop teasing you and just take you. Perhaps a part of her would still find pleasure in that… “Perhaps I should let you go to bed then.” She says instead, disappointment evident in her eyes, that she has to pull away from you. “You don’t have to go straight away…” You said hopefully, not even sure what you were offering the woman. You just knew that you missed the way she had held you earlier, missed her warmth and her gentleness, missed the way she made you feel safe in her arms. “I should though. I want you well rested for tomorrow.” Wanda winked. She studied your face again at her words, amusement flashing across your face at her teasing, before it was replaced with disappointment to see her go. The evidence was in your eyes and she paused for just a moment, before she lunged forward, her lips landing on yours and giving you a brief, small kiss. A warning of sorts, before another, more sensual kiss came. This time you were prepared. Lips parting for her and kissing her fully, allowing yourself to be guided by her, without a moment of hesitation. When you parted, it took everything in Wanda not to lean back and kiss you again. You were so damn tempting to her. So irresistible. From the first day she heard your thoughts, from that day she met you at your front door, she just couldn’t get enough. “If you want me to rest, you shouldn’t tease me, Wanda.” You said playfully, a mischievous smile on your lips. “I can’t help myself.” The redhead admitted. “Are you always such a sweet-talker?” You asked, your hand reaching out to touch hers, fingers playing together softly. “I haven’t said anything that’s not true.” Wanda retorted, leaning so close she could feel your breath on her skin, she could smell your perfume… Without thinking, she kissed you again. This time she pressed her body against you too, she cradled the back of your head and tangled her fingers in your hair. She kissed you deeply, pouring her passion in every brush of her lips against yours. Each time her tongue glided against yours she felt little jolts of pleasure spreading through her, tempting her to do it again and again, until you were both breathless and panting. “I’ve been wanting to do that for days.” Wanda admitted, straightening herself, even if everything inside her told her to stay, to pull you even closer. “And is it everything you pictured?” You asked playfully. “That and so much more…” Wanda smiled, her lips spreading into a grin, before she was leaning into yet another kiss.

[obxthornton]

You Arent Him.

Summary: Logan was dead, he had been for some time now. So who was this man in his suit in need of help?

Warnings: Light plot point spoilers for Deadpool and Wolverine (not really), Guns, angst, grief, talks of a miscarriage, and talks of death.

WC:2020

It had been a normal Friday. 

I woke up at 6 am, went into the woods to chop some wood for the stove, and cooked breakfast. My dog, Buck, stood next to me, waiting for his scraps of my breakfast. I ate a few bites before I put the plate on the ground and let him have the rest of the bacon and eggs. At 7:30 I took a shower before clothing my body in some jeans, tank top, and flannel. I made a cup of tea and I sat on the back porch, working on the painting I had started a few days ago. This piece was one of the mountain ranges that surrounded my house. I sat on my stool, using my pocket knife to open up a can of paint, and dipped my brush into it, working on the forefront of the painting. I had lived in this cabin for around 7 years now, alone, only with Bucks company. However, he wasnt much of a talker. Buck was around 11 now, an old companion who spent most of his time lying by my feet and barking at passing wildlife. 

I drank my tea, looking past the canvas to the area in front of me, and then painting it into the picture. I added the forefront trees, painting over the large less detailed ones I had painted in the back.  I looked up again, this time the image had changed. A large orange rectangle appeared causing me to drop my mug causing it to shatter. I stood up quickly as two figures started walking out. Reaching behind me I grabbed my rifle, cocking the gun, before standing on the edge of the porch, aiming it at the figures. My breath hitched and my eyes pulled away from the scope as one of the figures was in his suit, his. I shook the feeling away and put my face back up to the scope, shooting at the familiar figure first. I cocked the gun again and put a bullet in the red man next to him as well. "Woah Woah Woah!" The red man said holding up his arms, the orange portal closed behind the two, "We come in peace, lower your gun." I looked over the scope, blinking hard, trying to blink away the scene in front of me. I raised the gun again, staring at the familiar man in yellow in the scope, looking over his face. It couldn't be him. I shot the man again earning a groan from him. I squeezed my eyes shut at his voice, "Get the hell off my property!" I yelled shakily. Buck was barking and I opened my eyes to see the dog run towards the men. "Buck, get back here." I huffed, lowering my gun to not accidentally shoot him. Buck's barks were excited, he ran towards the man in yellow. He jumped up, squealing in excitement, barking and clawing at the man.  The man looked confused, kneeling down lightly so he could pet the dog. Buck licked his face and barked, rolling his body against the man's chest. I let out a shaky breath as I put the gun on safety and laid it back against the wall. "You got a bathroom out here? Traveling always messes me up." The red man him now right behind me, and Buck was in the arms of the yellow man. "Get the hell away from me." I huffed holding out my finger to the man, "I don't know what you think you are doing by looking like that but it's not going to work. Leave and never come back." He was so close to me now. My eyes settled on his face, racking him over to see if it was really him, it was. His face, is all the same, just alittle older. His eyes connected with mine, the eyes I fell in love with. He set down Buck and grabbed the red man's arm, "let's get out of here," he muttered. "What! we need her to save the timeline." He turned towards me, "Please ms, we have traveled across space and time to get to you. We are from a different timeline, and we need your help to save my timeline. You know logan right? This timeline's Logan, not Wolvie right here." The man spoke fast and I looked over at Logan, my eyes raking his face. His face showed he didn't know who I was, "we were told to come to talk to you."

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. "We can talk inside. I'll make tea," I stated grabbing my riffle and motioning my head for Buck to follow me inside. "oo yay, I love tea." the red man said following close behind. "I wasnt expecting guests so ignore the mess," I stated, walking in. The floor was littered with old paintings I had completed. I watched as Logan froze in the doorway, his eyes landing on one picture on the wall, a large image framed from my wedding day. 

The two men sat on the couch, Buck in between them. The red man, Wade I learned, was sipping a cup of tea I had made for him.  I prepared Logan's tea, steeping a bag of peppermint tea with one sugar cube and no milk, the way he had liked it 7 years ago.  I walked over, holding the mug in hand, and setting it on the coffee table in front of him. His eyes were wide and he looked alittle bit uncomfortable, looking around at the photos on the wall of the cabin. "Thank you for the tea, you have a lovely cabin here!" Wade exclaimed, his legs crossed, "I love these photos, the only proof I have that Wolvie here could smile if he wanted to." I gave the man a small smile, pulling my legs underneath me in the chair across from them. Logan gave Wade an annoyed look before he picked up the tea. He took a sniff and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, he took a sip and his face looked even more confused. "peppermint with one sugar." I said lightly causing him to look up at me, "My husband's favorite. I hope it's okay." He nodded and took another sip, cradling the warm cup in his hands, and staring down at it.

"Can you tell us alittle about him?" Wade said pointing to one of the pictures on the wall.  I hesitated, feeling the weight of my grief pressing down on me. But something in Logan's voice, the earnestness, made me want to share. "He was... brave," I began, my voice breaking slightly. "He was a fighter, in every sense of the word. But he was also kind, in his own rough way. He loved this cabin, our life together. He would spend hours tinkering with things, always trying to fix or improve something, even if it was already perfect." I played with the sleeves of my flannel, "He had this way of making everything feel... right. When things were bad, when everything was falling apart, he'd just pull me close and remind me that we were in it together. No matter what happened, he was there. He was my rock."

"Me and Logan met at a grocery store, I accidentally hit him with my cart and he was pissed. But then, he wasnt. I was probably 23, I don't know how old he was, he wasnt too fond of his old age." I stated, "We were together it felt like forever, he was the love of my life." Logan's face in the picture was happy, it was me, him, and Buck as a puppy, standing in front of the cabin. "This year we would have been married for 11 years," I sighed, "but he died 7 years ago." Logan's eyes were large as he listened.

Wade waved his hands, "wait wait wait, how? Arent you like immortal." His question was voiced at Logan, not necessarily at me. "Logan was sick, he had been sick for alittle. The adamantium was poisoning him and he wasnt doing the best." I shook my head thinking about him, "I had a bad accident that sent me into a coma about a year into Logan being really sick.” My voice caught in my throat for a second and I tried to regain my composure, “we had just found out I was pregnant too. Logan was so excited to be a father, he always wanted kids.” I shook my head trying to get the thoughts out, “we lost the baby in the accident. I would have died too, I should have died." I stared down at the messy coffee table, "But Logan is dumb, he's smart, but he was so incredibly dumb. God I hate him. I hate him for dying and I hate him even more for making it so I couldn't." I dugg around in my shirt pocket, grabbing out my pocket knife. I flicked it open, making a large slit in the palm of my hand. I held up my hand and watched as the cut slowly healed. "Dont even know how he was able to do that. I woke up in my bed, Logan's hand in mine, but he was gone." I looked at the two men, "I hate him." I turned and looked at Logan, "I hate you." Sighing I stood up, "You both should leave. I'm not going to be any help to you two."

"Wait, can we at least talk about this? Please we really need you to come back with us. Pretty please?" Wade hand praying hands, as he begged. I shook my head, "I'm sorry I'll be of no use." I turned away and walked into my bedroom, falling to my knees on the side of the bed. With my head in my hands, I cried, mourning the loss of him for what felt like another time. As if I was letting him die again. The presence of someone else filled the space and I sat up, rubbing my face. "You look just like him," I stated, smelling his familiar scent, "I have prayed every night that one day I would be reunited with my love. Yet I can't die and you aren't him."

I turned to look at the man who was looking around at the room Logan and I had called our own. More pictures scattered the walls, our closet open, filled with Logan's clothes that no longer smelt like him. "I'm not him," Logan stated. He kneeled next to me, his arms resting on his knee, the same way my husband would do when I was upset, "but I'm not leaving until I know eveyrthing is alright." My lip quivered as I stared into his eyes, "Can I have a hug?" I whispered, biting my lip to keep the tears from flowing. Logan hesitated for a second but slowly opened his arms. I latched myself around his neck, burry my face into his shoulder and his large arms wrapped around me tightly. He felt so familiar, he smelled so familiar. I cried. I cried while Logan hugged me, his arms getting alittle tighter as a sob escaped my lips. It was closer, it felt like closer. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry lo." I cried, gripping him as if he would disappear if I didn't hold on. He wasn’t the Logan I had lost, and he would never replace him. But there was a part of him, a reflection of the man I had loved, in the way he held me. It was enough to bring a glimmer of peace, and comfort I hadn’t felt in seven years. Though I knew I could never bring Logan back, or replace him, I could offer this man something. It was what my Logan would have wanted—to help, to support, to save the world. That's always what he wanted, to be a hero. He would have never turned down a way to help, to save people. I wasnt going to let his memory get tainted by my own grief. I obliged in helping the two men. And in that act of compassion, I found a small measure of solace, a piece of closure that I had been searching for. 

He had made everything alright. 

[simonrileysfavteacup]

Peace

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x gf!reader

Word count: 1K ish?

Warnings: skinny dipping, simon being fine while he chops would, manly muscles, manly tasks, simon who works all the time

Summary: With Simon, vacations were always rare, so you soaked up every chance you got.

(This is the lake I imagined, the one from The Hunger Games: The Ballad of Snakes and Songbirds, this includes the cabin where Coryo finds the gun)

Vacations with Simon were always hard. 

He’d always be working. All the time. He’d come home from a mission just to go on another one the next day. If he wasn’t on a mission, he’d be writing reports or working out in your home gym. Never gets a break. 

So when you invited Price and his wife over to dinner, you secretly begged for a leave for Simon to take him on a vacation. Price, being the good dude he is, obviously says yes and sends Simon off on a vacation for three weeks with you. 

And here’s a lil headcannon, Simon hates sand. And heat. So no tropical areas. :( No bahamas trip for you.

More so, you settled for a little cabin, deep in the woods, in British Columbia, Canada. And yeah, it sounds lame, but it was perfect for you and Simon. 

One bedroom cabin, a fireplace in the living room, and a cozy bed with the best duvet. It featured a little tiny shower that you and Simon shrunk into every morning, mostly just to be close to each other because the shower was half the size of Simon. And one of Simon’s favourite additions, an axe for wood chopping. The cabin faces out to a large lake. Everything was concealed by trees, leaving just you and Simon alone. There were no distractions, just the very-much-needed break. 

Simon would wake up every morning to chop wood, his way of working out. His exact statement was that the woods were peaceful and the swinging with the axe was good for his arms. And he did it shirtless, of course, just as he did when he worked out at home. 

Toned chest, glistening with sweat in the early morning of the hours, hands gripping the axe he grew to love in the last week, grunting every time he brought the axe down. 

You stood at the entrance of the cabin, leaning against the doorframe, coffee mug in hand as you stare at him, practically eye-fucking him. He was panting, a pile of wood sitting next him, fully chopped. You had no purpose for it but the fireplace, which you kept lit every evening as you two ate dinner. Simon’s grunts were reaching every nerve of your body. He looks too damn good for it to be 6 A.M. in the morning. 

“Do you want tea?” You speak up, breaking his focus on the wood. Your eyes stay on his abs as he looks up, chuckling softly. 

“Would love a cuppa, lovie,” he looks back down at the wood. “Admirin’ the view, hm?”

“You look really good, honey,” you bite your lip to hold back a giggle. 

“Bet I do,” he moves back to chopping his wood. 

“Don’t we have enough fireplace wood?” you tilt your head, still staring at him. 

“Just havin’ fun with it now, lovie,” he shrugs. “Helps me stay in shape, migh’ as well.”

“You don’t need any help staying in shape, honey. You look fine to me,” you giggle. 

He chuckles softly, “Ya keep feedin’ me them deserts and I’ll end up bigger than the lake.”

“You love my deserts,” you giggle. 

“Damn righ’, I do,” he looks up at you and smirks. 

“When you’re done, lumberjack, come inside. I’ll make breakfast, ‘kay?” you smile. He nods and continues his chopping. 

You head back inside, pulling a pan out from one of the cabinets, preparing a batch of scrambled eggs. You make Simon a cup of tea as well, setting it aside for him. He comes in moments later, sighing as he stretches. He grabs a plate of the eggs, taking his cup and sitting down on the couch before patting the spot next to him. 

You sit down next to him. “You wanna go for a dip in the lake after this?”

“Always,” he smiles. 

The two of you eat in silence, taking in the environment around you. The soft rustling of the trees, the chirping of birds, the smell of fresh air, and the sight of the sunlight filtering through the windows. Staying in a cabin in the middle of the forest wasn’t ideal, but it was perfect to you. The quiet solitude of nature and the fresh air provide a peaceful refuge to recharge and rejuvenate. The sounds of nature, from the songs of birds to the gentle whispering of the wind, create a harmonious cacophony that calms the mind and spirit. 

It was truly perfect to the two of you. 

You left both your dirty dishes in the sink to worry about later, heading outside to join Simon, who’s already stripped down to his boxers. He jumps off the dock and into the lake, making the loud splash of the water echo through the empty forest. You follow him, stripping off your dress, jumping into the lake in just a bra and panties. 

 The satisfying splash as you break the surface and the sensation of cool water against your skin, followed by the refreshing feeling of weightlessness as you glide through the water. The taste of salt on your lips and the sensation of the sun's warmth upon your face as you emerge from the water, breathless and invigorated. Simon’s arms wrap around you, holding you flush against his chest, smiling. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you whisper back, biting back a giggle as he pulls you underwater with him again. 

The two of you spend at least an hour in the water, giggling and splashing each other with water, suppressing loud laughs. When you finally decide to get out, Simon pulls you in for a kiss, heading into the cabin to grab a blanket and a towel. He dries you off before drying himself, motioning for you to lie down on the blanke the laid out like a picnic. He lays down on his side, pulling you in to lie your head on his stomach. He intertwines your hands, kissing your temple. 

“Thank you for forcing me to come on this trip,” he smiles. 

“Thank you for putting up with my bullshit and always doing whatever I say,” you giggle. 

“Always will, lovie,” he kisses your temple again. You look back up at the sky, squeezing his hand. 

This.

This was what peace felt like.

[vineet123]

Merakrt : tea cups set of 6 latest design

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[lialacleaf]

To Care For A Woman

Chapter 7

Simon Riley x Reader

Summary: You join the army as a last-ditch effort to avoid destitution, but when you sustain an injury protecting Lieutenant Ghost and earn yourself a medical discharge, you're stuck all over again. Or maybe not...

Warnings: Tension, Simon wants to care for you, small reader, a little bit spicy but not NSFW, man worrying about a woman's safety, typical cannon violence, deception I'm sorry it's unedited...

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

A loud clatter awoke you from a pleasantly deep sleep, and you blinked away the fog slowly. You had a feeling your husband was in the kitchen judging by the lack of a body beside you in bed.

You pulled the covers off and threw on a robe, stuffing your feet into your slippers as you headed for the kitchen.

You poked your head around the corner, watching as Simon leaned against the counter in front of the teapot on the stove.

“Good morning,” you called, pressing against his side and rubbing over his shoulders.

“Mornin’ love.”

Your brow furrowed slightly and you cocked your head at him. “You sound awful,” you mumbled as he stifled a cough.

“M’ fine,” he mumbled as the kettle whistled. He poured himself a cup of tea, trying not to cough as he took a sip.

“Simon,” you scolded in a warning tone, and he eyed you warily.

You’d made a strict agreement with him. No more lies.

“Jus’ a sore throat, I’ll be fine,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead. You took the opportunity to press the back of your hand against his face, and your eyes widened.

“You’re burning up! Back in bed, now,” you stated firmly, swatting at his arm.

“I’ve gotta work,” he argued, leaning against the counter for support.

You gave him a firm glare and pointed towards the bedroom. “You’re not going anywhere like this, go back to bed.”

Simon groaned, but obliged, setting his half-drunk mug in the sink. “Fine,” he rasped, moving towards the bedroom on unsteady feet.

You rolled your eyes and moved towards the fridge, Moonbeam nuzzling your bag leg as you shuffled around the kitchen. There were a few cloves of garlic left and half a box of chicken broth.

It didn't take long for you to whip up a small home remedy and pour it into a mug. Simon was cocooned in the duvet cover when you returned, and it was an effort not to laugh.

The mighty Ghost, defeated by the common cold.

You were tempted to take a picture to show his teammates, but Simon hated Cameras, especially when he didn't have his mask, and you were feeling gracious enough to not torment your husband while he was ill.

"What're ya smilin' bout' over there?" he asked, eyelids drooping. His accent was thicker and more apparent, and he looked very much as if he was melting into the pillows he'd laid against the headboard.

"I don't know what you're talking about," you whispered with a grin as you held the mug out to him. He frowned deeply, grimacing as he brought it to his nose.

"Cheers," he muttered before downing the drink as quickly as he could, trying to conceal the urge to gag.

~

Despite his delirious insistence that he was fine, Simon's fever spiked around noon. You weren't exactly sure what to do, questioning if you should take him to the hospital, or try a home remedy to give him some relief.

After a brief call with Dr. Radcliffe, you were instructed to let him burn it out, and settled yourself in bed beside him with a sigh.

At some point Simon had shimmied out of his shirt, his upper body covered in sweat, and you placed the back of your hand on his forehead with a frown.

His head laid in your lap rather limply, and every once in a while he'd let out a soft whine of discomfort. You shook your head in exasperation, stroking your fingers through his hair.

"I swear if you came in contact with some sort of bio-weapon and didn't tell me..." you mumbled softly.

"You think I'd bring something like that home to you?" he croaked out, displaying more awareness than you'd expected from him.

"No," you sighed, stroking the back of his head with your fingertips.

"Exactly," he rasped, and you rolled your eyes.

"Nice to see you're feeling better enough to argue," you teased.

"M' not arguing," he mumbled, eyes barely open.

"You gave him a soft 'mhm' and tucked the covers a little tighter around his body, watching as his eyelids closed. Simon slept soundly to the sensation of your nails running across his back, your touch stopping over the exit wound of a bullet on his shoulder.

You pressed your lips together firmly, remembering the sight of him going down after covering you. Your thumb brushed over the spot delicately, and you closed your eyes.

You wouldn't be here if he hadn't gotten shot. You would probably still be a part of the 141, or you'd be dead if he had simply decided to leave you there.

Still, you couldn't help but feel anxiety gnaw at you now that you weren't out there with him. Did anyone have his back in your place?

You didn't want him to come home in a body bag, but you doubted he'd indulge you in just how risky his work was. You couldn't help but wish there was something you could do to keep him safe.

you let out a deep sigh, allowing yourself to drift off to sleep.

~

It was dark, and the wind felt like ice as it kissed your skin. You should have been dressed more appropriately for the cold, but you weren't. You were running down the street in an unfamiliar place. The only thing that guided you was the sound of Simon's voice, calling out for you as if his life depended on it.

You pushed past people, the shout of your captain following you in the distance, but you ignored it. You needed to find Simon.

His call eventually led you to an iron gate, and you tore at the chains around the bars in a desperate attempt to get inside.

"Y/N!" there were people chasing you, faces you barely recognized in your delirious state. You thought you saw Johnny, the Captain, even your mother.

"Y/n, there's nothing you can do!"

You climbed over the gate, running after Simon's voice as the wind carried it to you.

You were suddenly running through a graveyard, your eyes searching out a familiar name on the headstones until you found his.

Simon Riley.

"Simon?" you whispered.

A hand shot out from the ground, waving around frantically as if trying to find help.

You threw yourself to your knees, momentarily wondering about the lack of pain in your left leg, as you began to dig at the dirt around the hand with your fingernails.

"Y/n, you've got to leave him, he's not there anymore!"

You felt tears stream down your face as Johnny and Captain Price pulled you away from the grave.

"He's right there! Can't you see him? He's there!" you wailed.

"Look again, y/n," your mother scolded, and suddenly you were looking at a hole in the ground with an empty coffin. "He's just a ghost. That's all he is. Meant to disappear."

You shook your head as tears streamed down your face. No. Simon wasn't just Ghost. He wouldn't disappear, he wouldn't leave-

Your eyes snapped open as your chest rose and fell rapidly. A dream. It had just been a silly dream.

Simon’s fever must have broken during the night, as he was reading a book in bed beside you. He watched as you stared up at him sleepily, and gently brushed some hair out of your face.

"Feeling better?" you asked as you slowly sat up.

"A bit..." he watched you closely, concern written in his expression. "Are you alright?"

You nodded, nuzzling into his side. "Fine. Everything's fine."

AN: I love some angsty foreshadowing ~ I promise this has a happy ending...

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[fuctacles]

Every inch of you is perfect

For @subeddieweek Day 2 | T | 1591 | t4t, transfem Stevie, transmasc Eddie, bathing, Mommy kink, FLUFF, established relationship | Ao3 Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | Day 7 | Ao3

And while you're here, may i interest you in @stevieweek ?

The sound of a whimper leads Stevie to the bathroom. The doors aren't locked, so she steps in, and finds her boyfriend submerged up to his neck in foam. She pats herself on the back for keeping track and being prepared this time. Gently, she knocks on the door to alert him of her presence. 

Eddie looks up with sunken eyes.

"I hate this," he groans instead of a greeting. Stevie doesn't blame him.

"I know, baby." She steps properly inside and threads her fingers through Eddie's damp locks. She drops a soft kiss to his temple while massaging his scalp. "I got painkillers, ginger tea, and some brownies. I'll bring them in a second. Need anything else?"

"Don't go," Eddie protests.

"I'll put on the water, and I'll be right back," she promises, but stays for an extra minute to scrape her nails behind his ears. Regardless, Eddie makes a sound of protest when she tries to leave.

"Hey." Stevie's tone is gentle when she grasps his chin, more of a reminder than actual scolding. Eddie opens his eyes to let her know he's listening. "You're a big boy. You can wait for five minutes, can't you?"

"I can." Eddie nods petulantly. 

"Good," Stevie squeezes his chin and leans down to give him a peck. "Do you want some music, baby?"

"I do."

Stevie pulls out her phone and finds Eddie's metal ballads playlist she has saved on her Spotify. She sets it on the windowsill to play. 

"I'll be right back," she promises before stepping out. She leaves the door open so he can hear her moving around the kitchen, and he closes his eyes, knowing she'll take care of him. 

He hears her come back, and yet the cold hand on his cheek startles him. 

"Sorry, baby. Got you some Tylenol. Open up."

He opens his mouth without hesitation and lets her drop the pill on his tongue, followed by a glass of water pressed to his lips to wash down the medication. His hands stay under the foamy surface through the whole process. 

"Perfect. You're so perfect, baby."

Despite the pain, Eddie smiles at the praise, eyes fluttering open. 

"Wanna be good for you."

"You always are," Stevie reassures him, pecking him on the lips. She moves a stray piece of hair behind his ear. "Can I join you?" 

Eddie makes a face. 

"Uh, I don't know. The water is kind of gross."

"Nothing is gross about you, baby," Stevie reminds him gently. "We probably need to change it anyway," she muses, dipping her hand under the foam. "Yup. Can you pull the plug for me, honey?"

Reluctantly, Eddie nods.

"Good. I'll get your tea and snacks, and I'm right back."

This time Eddie doesn't protest. He's got a mission to focus on, draining the bloody water to make room for his girlfriend. He watches the foam slowly lower, settling partially on his naked body. On the meat vessel that betrayed him once again.

Stevie comes back with the stool they often used as a makeshift side table, and settles a plate of chocolates and brownies on top of it. 

"Did you get Reese's?" he asks, peeking at the snacks. 

"Course I did. Who do you take me for?" She raises an eyebrow, blowing at the steaming mug in her hands. It's Eddie's Lord of the Rings one, an old convention find. 

"Can I?" he asks, eyes focused on the plate. 

"They are for you, sweetheart, you don't have to ask."

"Thanks, Mommy."

Stevie smiles at the endearment. It's been coming more and more naturally for him to call her that, and it made her chest bloom with love and affection. Each time got her closer to proposing.

She blows at the tea some more and takes a careful sip before handing it to Eddie. 

"Here. It's cool enough to drink. Don't make that face," she adds after he scrunched his nose. "I added the raspberry syrup from Robin."

He takes the mug, sniffs its contents, and takes a sip.

“It's not bad bad, I guess,” he decides. “Thank you, Mommy.”

"You're welcome, sweetie. Now let me fix that bath for us."

She reaches for the shower rod and while Eddie drinks his ginger raspberry tea, she rinses off the leftover foam before plugging the drain and letting it fill with hot water again. Eddie watches her curiously as she walks to the cabinet and reaches for the highest shelf.

"Ooh, are we doing a bath bomb?"

They had a couple stashed somewhere for their relaxing baths together. Stevie liked getting the fancy ones and Eddie liked to look the other way when he saw their prices. 

Stevie hums in affirmation.

"Got a special one just for you. You're going to love it."

"Thanks, I'm already making my own bloody water."

"Cheeky, aren't we?" She looks down at him with a raised eyebrow. He bites back the bratty smile. "You'll have to wait and see." She puts the bath bomb aside and starts undressing. Eddie watches the movements of her fingers, transfixed. "Keep drinking your tea, baby," she speaks up without looking.

Eddie takes a loud sip, watching Stevie’s top fall to the floor. Her jeans follow, and he sighs, resting the hot mug against his cheek.

"So pretty."

Stevie smiles at the compliment. Her boy called her the sweetest things, and it always worked. She was proud of her looks, but his words were what made her feel truly beautiful and feminine. 

"Thank you, baby. Are you done drinking?"

"Yes." He takes one last sip and shows her the empty mug.

"Good job, sunshine." She takes the mug from him and puts it away. "Do you want me behind you or on the other side?" she asks, pulling off her socks. 

Eddie considers his body and asks if it wants to be touched, and what it needs.

"Wanna see you," he decides. 

"Okay." Stevie nods. She ties up her hair and Eddie watches her arm muscles flex. He can't wait for his period to be over so he can get pinned down by them and thrown over her broad shoulder. He sighs at the thought, and his train of thought must be obvious because Stevie smirks when she reaches to remove her bra. Eddie loves her tits too. Being suffocated between them was his favorite thing. He loved all of his girlfriend, her curves and muscles, her breasts, and her dick. Every inch of her was perfect. And he meant every inch. 

Her clothes are in a pile on the floor and so is Eddie, except he's in the bathtub, suffering. He almost forgot, but another relentless cramp helpfully reminded him.

Stevie grabs the bath bomb before stepping into the bath with him. Eddie watches the steam cling to her skin in a wet sheen and tries to distract himself from the pain with the goddess in front of him.

She sits down and water licks the tub’s edge, threatening to spill, so she quickly turns the tap off. She scoots closer until their shins cross under the water, and reaches out to gently caress her boyfriend’s leg, knee to ankle. 

"Ready?" she asks, hovering the bath bomb over the surface. Eddie nods, finally tearing his gaze away from her and to her hand and the little gift. The bath bomb is big and white, innocent-looking. It could be anything. 

She lowers it into the water and thick black clouds start emerging from her hand. Eddie makes an excited sound, his hand flying under the water to reach the fizzing blackness quickly filling their tub.

"Well, that's a manly bath bomb."

Stevie bursts out laughing. She drops the bomb to do its thing and reaches up for her boyfriend's face.

"You're manly," she says, finally giving him a proper kiss. "How are you doing?"

"Better now," he admits. 

They watch the water fizz and bubble until the bath bomb completely dissolves. The water is inky black, except for the extra shine of silver dusting on the surface. Eddie threads his fingers through it, reveling in the thick black color of the water, letting the silver sparkles settle on his skin.

They feed each other sugary treats and exchange soft kisses until the water cools, no longer bringing relief to the aching muscles. Only then do they wash each other properly, Stevie moving behind him to massage shampoo into his scalp.

"You want dinner on nap first?" she asks softly. However, based on her boyfriend’s droopy eyes, she could probably guess herself.

"Nap," Eddie answers without hesitation. 

So she wraps him up in his fluffy black towel and helps him dry off. He doesn't protest the pampering, getting conditioner rubbed into his hair, or getting it brushed. When he's about ready to go to the bedroom, Stevie lifts him without warning. He yelps, grasping her shoulders.

"I can walk myself!" Then he protests. But Stevie presses her lips to his surgery scars and walks out of the bathroom with Eddie in her arms.

"My baby boy isn't walking anywhere today."

She sets him down on the bed, where his special boxers are already waiting, and bats his hand away when he tries to reach for them. She grabs the underwear herself and holds it for him to step into.

He does so, despite the embarrassment reddening his cheeks. She slides them up his legs and lets the elastic slap against his skin. He huffs, slapping her hands away while she snickers. 

"Come on, let's go to sleep."

@stevieweek