ink & parchment

“𝙥𝙞𝙘𝙠 𝙖 𝙗𝙤𝙤𝙠, 𝙧𝙪𝙣 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙛𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙖𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝙞𝙩𝙨 𝙨𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙚 & 𝙡𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙞𝙣𝙠 & 𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙘𝙝𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩.” bell, 27 𝘢 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘤 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘦𝘴

[bellsbookshop]

the bookshop

the rustle of pages, the heady scent of ink and parchment; welcome to the bookshop, where all your wildest dreams and fantasies come true ! grab a cafe pastry, pick a novel — enjoy a temporary reprieve from the outside world and find comfort in the stories that reside here ☕︎ ⋆.˚

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

shop etiquette

shop directory

the shop is currently : open !

[criesinliess]

━APRIL 2025; susan's recs

MARVEL

━━MATT MURDOCK

love language @mcrdvcks

bloody birds @venusheartsyou2

━━FRANK CASTLE

let the light in @bellsbookshop

i owe you a black eye and two kisses @↑

picking up the pieces @wolvietxt

━━BUCKY BARNES

did i do something wrong? @cece693

pretty please @daxisyzz

change your mind @marvelstoriesepic

wake up; part2; part3 @↑

friday night; the match @ilovolderman

STRANGER THINGS

━━STEVE HARRINGTON

the four steps between (best) friends and lovers @stevebabey

the shape of family; part2; part3 @skeltnwrites

your orbit @c0s-lettuce

CELEBRITIES

━━GEORGE CLARKE

lavender haze; king of my heart; the 1 @tomsparkyr

secrets in doncaster; part2; part3 @the-internets-girlfriend

━━HARRY LEWIS

half-time @tomsparkyr

THE BEAR

━━CARMY BERZATTO

the recipe for remembering (part10); part11; part12 @lalalieb

grilled cheese (part8) @whereubeenloca

god’s plan; two to tango @queers-gambit

THE LAST OF US

━━JOEL MILLER

crawlin' back to you @bluebeary-jay

blessings @sizzlingcloudmentality

just a shelf @fic-girlie

dirty work @mssalo

erotica; part2 @whoevenisjavier

CRIMINAL MINDS

━━SPENCER REID

sharing @gf2bellamy

signs @↑

statistically speaking @matt-murdockk

OUTER BANKS

━━RAFE CAMERON

tipsy reader @fitzells

sunrises, penalties, and losing sleep over you @salem-s

HARRY POTTER

━━THEODORE NOTT

the one where you scold theo for dozing off @illbegottenfaith

━━LORENZO BERKSHIRE

finding sunshine @obsessedwithceleste

INVICIBLE

━━MARK GRAYSON

track 10 @sunsburns

[bellsbookshop]

thank you for including me ! 🩵

[sergeantangel]

* = 18+. 2025 Lists. 2024 Lists

Just Right - Bucky Barnes - @navybrat817

* Raw - Bucky Barnes - @buckysslut

Built To Last - Bucky Barnes - @vunblr

* Slow Morning Sex - Bucky Barnes - @barnesslut

Hold Them Gently (These Confessions) Part 1 + Part 2 - Matt Murdock - @privateanxieties

Let The Light In - Frank Castle - @bellsbookshop

* For Reasons Wretched and Divine - Papa Emeritus II - @writingjourney

Dean Winchester Angst - @jensenacklesballsack

Enjoy

[bellsbookshop]

thank you for including me ! 🩵

[bellsbookshop]

i promise i’m still here !

i’ve had quite the hectic work schedule, and some other things to tackle, but i’m here ! thank you so much for all the love on my work ! 🩵

[bellsbookshop]

thank you all so much for the love on my work ! i appreciate it more than i can say ♡

tomorrow i’ll work on asks + interactions ! have a great night ! ♡

[bellsbookshop]

give me attention [i need it now]

pairing: matt murdock x reader

a peek at the cat-coded tendencies of matthew michael murdock ⋆🐾°

author’s note: my writing partner and i had a silly little chat about how matt is truly an orange cat at heart, and this was born ! warnings for a concerning amount of fluff, the tiniest hint of angst re: matt’s upbringing, and a dash of suggestiveness જ⁀➴ as usual, any feedback [likes, comments, reblogs + asks] is appreciated and welcomed ! title comes from where the lines overlap by paramore. reader is not explicitly gendered in this !

wc: 960

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

the evening light trickles in through the apartment windows, only slightly overshadowed by the neon of the billboard just outside them; everything is painted in hues of purple and orange and red, hazy and soft in the quiet peace. matt’s draped over one end of the couch, a stack of papers in his lap and a furrow in his brow as his fingers dance over the braille engraved there. you’re at the other end, book in your hands and a blanket draped over your tucked up legs, keeping him company while he works. the week has been long for the both of you, work bleeding over into the domestic time you two usually share, so you’ve taken to sitting with him while he slogs through paperwork after dinner. it’s not the most exciting, but its still quality time, and you’ll take whatever you can get.

every so often you’ll look up at him, admiring the sharp cut of his jaw, the way the light splashes patterns over his face; even with the exhaustion under his eyes and the stress lining his forehead he looks handsome, a stained glass painting that’s all yours to gaze upon. sometimes you like to tell him he reminds you of a church window, larger than life and beautiful to match it, just to watch a rare blush dance over his cheeks. usually it’s matt flustering you with his cheeky flirting and charm, so on the rare occasion that you get to turn the tables on him you take full advantage, warm with affection for him.

one of his hands stills on the page he’s reading, fingers twitching almost involuntarily as if wanting something he can’t voice, and a small smile lifts the corners of your mouth. in the months of dating matt, you’ve come to realize that for all his late night deviling and daytime lawyering he’s truly just ….

catlike.

he craves attention but never knows how to ask for it, the words always at the tip of his tongue. he’ll wrap an arm around you silently, squeezing you in a hug so tight it takes your breath away, resting his head against your shoulder and burrowing his face into your neck. he’ll deny it till he’s blue in the face, always brushing off your questions and sidestepping your concern, but he melts the moment you touch him, a puddle of repressed catholic goo in your hands.

you muse to yourself that it’s likely due to his childhood — the loss of his father, growing up in the church orphanage, seeking out the world with his hands open only to find it just out of reach. it’s put a muzzle on his ability to voice the need, the deep seated longing for intimacy that doesn’t involve heated touches beneath silk sheets. thankfully you’ve taken it upon yourself to study him, master the language that is matthew michael murdock, and you know all his tells when he’s in desperate need of affection.

setting aside your book, you look for the rest of his tells; the tightness in his jaw that means he’s clenching his teeth, the way his shoulders seem heavier despite being out of his work clothes and in a cozy sweater that doesn’t irritate his skin. the most obvious one is his hands, the restless way he’s tapping them against his paperwork, smoothing out invisible wrinkles on the pages. it’s enough for you to decide he needs a break, and you sit up enough that you can tug the work out of his hands and set it on the coffee table, pulling him in close to your chest with an exaggerated pout.

“i need a snuggle, c’mere. i feel like the mistress to law right now,” you tease, leaning back against the cushions and tugging him with you till he’s laying against you fully, head against your chest. one hand gently rubs patterns against his back, soothing away the stress in his shoulders little by little. your other hand goes to the back of his neck, nails lightly scratching at the hair there till he’s all but dead weight on top of you, like a matt-sized weighted blanket.

“i do have to review those last few witness statements before bed,” he manages to protest after a moment, but there’s no urgency in his tone; he’s perfectly content to stay right where he is forever, paperwork be damned. you do your best not to laugh, pressing a light kiss to his temple as his hands snake their way up your shirt, warm palms holding your waist to ensure you don’t wiggle away.

“sure, matty. after our cuddle.”

bit by bit he starts to crumble; his eyes close, the fingers drawing circles on your skin moving slower and slower till they stop, just the warmth of them there. his shoulders drop, the tension bleeding out of them easily, and his complaints about needing to get up come less and less frequently till they die off altogether, nothing but little huffs and mumbles when you talk to him like he’s purring, rumbling low from his chest.

he falls asleep like that, face in your neck and his arms around your waist, keeping you flush against the couch, and you don’t wake him. like this he’s peaceful, all traces of worry gone from his face, and you love it when he’s like this — sleepy and warm and pliant, not afraid to take what he needs. affection and love, that’s what he needed, and you’ll happily give it to him for as long as he’ll let you.

even if you had to trick him into thinking it was your idea. such a cat, you laugh to yourself, brushing his hair off his forehead.

maybe you should get him a bell. ✮⋆˙

[bellsbookshop]

the fluffy matt drabble will be posted tomorrow, and the fluffy frank drabble is currently posted ! feel free to drop into my askbox to yap or request ! ✮⋆˙

[bellsbookshop]

let the light in

pairing: frank castle x reader

all the little ways that frank clings ⋆˙⟡

authors note: i just love the idea of frank being a secret cuddle bug, so this was born ! warnings for a concerning amount of fluff, frank being ridiculously cute with his need to cuddle up, and me waxing poetic ! as always, feedback [likes, comments, reblogs + asks] is welcome and appreciated ! title from lana del rey’s let the light in. reader is not explicitly gendered in this !

wc: 727

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

you’ve always seen the light in frank, even if he’s convinced himself he’s nothing but darkness.

he’s rough and gritty like sandpaper, hard to love and harder to keep, but you touch him like he’s delicate, gentle and sweeter than anything he’s ever had. the first few months of dating you he’d been almost scared to touch you, afraid of staining your light with his blood soaked hands that’ll never be clean again. he tiptoed around you, treated you like fine china that he couldn’t afford, and he always woke up before you, disentangling himself from your cuddling arms as if he didn’t deserve them.

the frank you have now is worlds apart, like a stray dog who’s finally realized he’s home — there’s no more half worried glances after a hug, no shying away from your warmth with muttered excuses. now he craves your softness, burying himself in your light like he’s been born again within it. there’s hardly a moment where he isn’t at your heels, trailing after you with all the eagerness of a puppy; he’ll curl himself around you like a blanket, keeping you tucked up close under his arm without hesitation. his favorite moments are the simplest ones, the hints of domesticity he never thought he’d have again.

when you’re washing dishes he’s glued to your back, arms around your waist and big hands splayed out over your stomach. he’ll listen to whatever you’re rambling about, a few grunts and hums here and there so you know he’s listening. he’s got his head against yours, an unconscious sway to his movements as he soaks up all the love he can get before you start laughing at his clinginess, teasing the way he can’t let you move a step without being right behind you.

in the mornings he’ll drag you in closer when you try to get up, a firm denial of your need to get up and start the day — he never wants to leave the warmth and safety of your bed, not when the lights coming in so nicely, framing you in that golden glow. by the time he does let you up it’s nearly noon, and he’ll follow your every step even if he’s grumbling about having to get up, incapable of having you more than a foot away from him.

at the grocery store he’s boxing you in with his arms, pushing the cart with your back to his chest like a too big coat. it makes it a little hard to steer, but he’s making up for it by grabbing whatever you tell him, dropping kisses to the top of your head like he’ll die if he doesn’t; his warmth reminds you that you’re safe, no matter what or where you are. he carries all the groceries in one hand, the other arm wrapped tight around your waist keeping you tucked into his side even if the car’s only a few feet away.

he never lets you drive, says it’s because driving keeps him focused — but really it’s because of how perfect you look in his passenger seat, like you belong there with him in the setting sunlight. he’ll always have a hand on your thigh, thumb rubbing circles mindlessly against it, keeping him grounded. sometimes he doesn’t even know how the two of you got home safe, completely distracted by the warmth of your skin and the sweet way you smile at him, pressing a kiss to your cheek at every red light to see it again and again and again.

he can hardly sleep without you when he’s home, the bed too cold without you in it, and he’s not above physically carrying you to bed when he’s decided it’s bedtime. your laughs fill the air and he can’t get enough, twirling you around a few times before dropping you down into the sheets gently and kissing you till he’s dizzy with it, perfectly content for a few brief moments. he’ll pull you in so close there’s hardly any space to breathe, burying his face in your neck and letting your warmth settle over him like a weighted blanket. he never lets you get far, not even when you’re sleeping, strong arms seeking you out to bring you back to his chest where you belong.

you’re his light, and he’ll never, ever stop clinging to that. ⋆˚࿔

[bellsbookshop]

i’ve got the day free, and i’m trying to decide what i want to write ! please help ⋆˙⟡

which would you like to see ? ⏦ﾟ♡︎

touch starved matt fluff !

clingy frank fluff !

Voting ended onApr 16, 2025

[bellsbookshop]

both are written, but it looks like frank is the winner ! i’ll post that shortly, when tumblr stops being so glitchy <33

[bellsbookshop]

i’ve got the day free, and i’m trying to decide what i want to write ! please help ⋆˙⟡

which would you like to see ? ⏦ﾟ♡︎

touch starved matt fluff !

clingy frank fluff !

Voting ended onApr 16, 2025

[bellsbookshop]

Welcome welcome welcome!!! I love your other pieces so far, I hope you stick around!! I was wondering if you could write about Frank and the first time he realises he loves you? Like the most mundane time, like you baking in the kitchen, or you're both watching your favourite show, and suddenly it just hits him like a brick wall

you’re so sweet angel, thank you ! this is such a good ask, i’m melting just thinking about it !

i think he’d have felt the slow shift for awhile, but he hasn’t processed what it is yet — for all his skills, frank can be a little dense when it comes to emotions. he tends to bury things till he can’t anymore, and even if he’s accepted the fact that he likes you, love is an entirely different beast. it’s likely a few months into dating - a word i use very loosely, because he’s not exactly the typical boyfriend - and you’ve settled into a bit of a routine. he’ll come over to get patched up after a job, stick around till the next one, and slot himself into your life like he belongs there; you’ll make dinner together, fall asleep curled around each other, run silly little errands !

it’s on one of these little errands that it starts nudging the back of his mind, watching you try to decide between two kinds of cereal, asking if he wants pasta for dinner casually — it makes him realize just how much home isn’t a place anymore, it’s wherever you are to him. he’s a little quieter than usual through the trip, and when you get back to the apartment he’s just watching you, taking you in with new eyes. you’re humming to yourself as you tidy up the groceries, wearing one of his shirts because your laundry’s all mixed up with each others at this point, and it’s like a freight train slamming into his chest: he loves you. the weight of it scares him a little, because he never thought he’d have this again, someone to love.

he doesn’t tell you right away, because he’s a little emotionally constipated, and he’s trying to wrap his mind around it; he might even get a little distant for a few days while he argues with himself, afraid of the consequences. but eventually he’ll come back, wrap his arms around you from behind and bury his face in your neck as he whispers those three words that scared him so much. when you say them back he’s immediately melting into you, and despite all his fears he’s perfectly content in that moment, safe in that little bubble of love the two of you have created ㅤ♡

[frank castle deserves the world and no one can change my mind ㅤ♡]

[bellsbookshop]

love matt but foggy, as the most recent ask mentioned, is criminally underrated. so maybe foggy and reader having the totally exact same energy and they are both super golden retriever? like in regular scenarios them being each other's biggest cheerleader. but also maybe at one point someone makes a comment to foggy assuming he's the second choice bc why would someone go for foggy when they could go for matt? obviously foggy is the backup. and reader (returning from the bathroom) overhears and defends foggy who is just watching his wife/fiance/girlfriend/whatever like <333

YES ! the pair of you are quite literally just golden retriever puppies who nap in sunspots <333 i absolutely agree ⊹₊⟡⋆

almost everybody expects you to fall head over heels for matt when you meet the trio [most people are half in love with him let’s be real], but all it takes is hearing foggy’s laugh and you’re hooked ! the pair of you are absolutely inseparable, constantly giggling and rambling about the first things that pop into your head — it’s the most random conversations every time, no question. it’s both painfully sweet and slightly annoying for anybody around you because the two of you share a braincell; foggy could start a sentence and you’d finish it without missing a beat, and most of the time you’re the only ones who understand what in the world you’re talking about ! number one cheerleaders for each other, always ride or die no hesitation — nobody supports the two of you like well … the two of you !

but god forbid someone tries to rain on your parade …

the second you catch the tail end of the conversation you’re on fire, getting right in that jerks face — finger jabbing the air, voice so loud everyone’s shocked. they’re used to the silly happy energy you and foggy always have, but they fail to realize that while you both might be golden retrievers, puppies still bite ! foggy is both flabbergasted and hopelessly in love, eyes wide and jaw open, but as soon as that person has scurried away he’s wrapping his arms around you tightly, face buried in your neck. “that was so badass and yet so sweet i’m gonna cry !” good luck trying to get out of that hug — he’s not letting go for the rest of the night✰

[number one foggy nelson defender right here i LOVE HIM !! ✰]

[bellsbookshop]

Welcome to tumblr!!! I'm loving your posts so far! I was wondering if you could write a little something for Foggy? There's a CRIMINAL lack of fics for my man on here

Maybe something like he's always hyping you up? Like bad day for your self esteem, and he's there telling you how perfect and wonderful you are, or you have a work/college project coming up and he's totally focused on you talking about it and telling you he knows you'll pass/do amazing?

thank you for the kind welcome honey ! you’re right, the lack of foggy is absolutely illegal, and i think we need to sue !

foggy nelson is your number one cheerleader, no doubt about it — that man lives to support you any which way he can, and we all know he’s a certified yapper. talking you up is the easiest way for him to lift you up emotionally, and even if you’re not having a bad day he’s doing it. it could be the simplest, most menial accomplishment and he’s acting like you hung the moon and stars, because to him everything you do is amazing !

specifically however if you’re not feeling confident about something you’ve got to do — a presentation, a difficult conversation, even just doing a deep clean of your closet — he’s immediately breaking out the metaphorical pom-poms, ready to cheer you on. he’ll bring you little snacks, like cut up fruit he tried to make into smiley faces, or a few pastries from your favorite bakery. he’s got a never ending stream of praise for you too, even if you’ve only just started; “wow, that already looks amazing !” “can you run through the pitch again ? you’re just so good at explaining it, it’s so interesting !” and his personal favorite “wow, how’d i get so lucky ? you’re so … incredible !”

and god forbid your brain is fighting you, trying to drag your self worth to the floor — foggy will not stand for it ! he’s cajoling you out of your funk with two warm hands over your own, singing off key to the radio cause he knows it makes you laugh, dancing with you in the kitchen while he tries to make your favorite food and pressing so many kisses to your face you can’t help but smile. he’s human sunshine when your mood is cloudy and gray, smothering you with all the love and affection you can handle ♡

[i love you foggy nelson pls sing off key at me ♡🥹]

[bellsbookshop]

i owe you a black eye and two kisses

frank castle x reader

warnings: fluff, a sprinkling of angst, will they won’t they finally becoming something real, a hint of suggestiveness throughout, canon typical injuries

authors note: my first fic on this blog !! i’ve seen a whopping two edits of frank with ethel cain’s crush, and obviously i had to do something about that. enjoy, and any feedback [likes, comments, reblogs] are always appreciated ! reader isn’t explicitly gendered in this

wc: 1023

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

i owe you a black eye and two kisses

tell me when you wanna come and get ‘em

it’s a warm night, the barest of breezes ruffling the curtains from your open apartment windows. frank would huff at that, jaw set in that pissy little way you like as he bitches about you being safe. you’d snort, swatting at him lazily as you remind him you’re on the sixth floor. his grumbled complaints would go ignored, your eyes rolling every time you catch a word here and there through the mumbling. but frank’s not here, hasn’t been around in two weeks, and you’ve left the windows open nearly every night in a silent act of protest.

he never tells you what he does but you’re not an idiot — the split knuckles and blood tinged treads of his boots make it clear enough, and you’re sure that if you ever got the opportunity to peek under his layered shirts and jackets, you’d see an array of scars, begging to tell you a story. the pair of you have been dancing around each other for months now, neighbors in the sense that frank sometimes sleeps in the apartment down the hall from yours. you’re not sure where he rests his head the rest of the time, but a few days a week you can usually find him there, fixing something.

your first meeting was funny in the odd way, trying to lug a heavy furniture box up to your apartment. the elevator hardly ever works, so you’d chosen to tough it out, sweat dotting your brow as you dragged it up the stairs. between one second and the next the weight has all been lifted from your hands, and he was resting it easily on one broad shoulder with only a quiet “gonna break your back like that. which door ?” he wouldn’t hear a word of thanks either, just set it down where you’d told him and disappeared down the hall to his own apartment. it had taken a lot of work — frank was like a half feral stray, all teeth when you tried to befriend him — but over time you could comfortably call him a friend, always willing to help you with whatever issues your run down apartment was having.

i only want him if he says it first to me

i wanna ugh him in the back of his mom’s mercury

the attraction was immediate, a white hot flame curling in your stomach just at the sight of him; strong jaw and stronger arms, features rough in the handsomest way, and the low rasp of his voice was enough to bring you to your knees the first time you heard it. the feelings came later, little pinpricks of affection at the hidden softness that lurked behind every harsh face he made. you’d caught him feeding the strays out in the alley more than once, big hands impossibly gentle when he pet them, and you never really stood a chance, not when he’d fixed the loose lock on the lobby door because you’d admitted it made you feel unsafe.

but you’re careful, wary like you’re treading through a minefield; you can’t tell him everything running through your head, not if you wanted to keep him. he was a runner, obvious in every little thing he did, and you couldn’t scare him off for fear you’d never forgive yourself. you let him come to you, set the pace as slow or as fast as he wants — you’d only tell him how bad you wanted him if he wanted you just as badly first.

he looks like he works with his hands and smells like marlboro reds

it makes me so ugh and i can’t get enough of it

you’ve been missing him though, a soft ache in your chest that only grows larger every day he’s gone. you’ve kept your fingers crossed that whatever business he’s tending to hasn’t killed home before you’ve gotten the chance to care for him the way you want to, and that he’ll stain your doorway with his bloody boots soon. it’s a little ridiculous, pining for a man you know next to nothing about, but there’s something in his eyes that tells you he’ll be worth it, even if he doesn’t believe it himself.

as if he could sense your thoughts, there’s an all too familiar knock on your door, and despite the late hour you can’t help the smile that spreads over your face. it feels like every step takes forever, moving in slow motion till you’ve unlocked the door and there he is, a fresh black eye and a cut above his brow. he still manages to look unfairly handsome, especially when he pins you with that half smirk, lips curled around your name.

“doorframe still stickin’ ? i gotta take a look at that in the morning,” he says in lieu of a greeting, eyeing the rusting hinges with the sort of intensity he does everything else. it’s almost endearing, and you raise your brows at him with a quiet laugh. “is that what you came over for ? i don’t see you for two weeks and it’s the door that draws you in ?”

his resounding laugh is quiet but genuine, leaning against the doorframe to take you in. “nah sweetheart, not the door. was wondering … i could fix that for you. and that window frame that keeps rattling. install some better blinds, for privacy.”

you cross your arms, mimicking the way he’s leaning against the doorframe; like this you can really admire him, one hand coming up to gently trace the scrape above his brow. “kind of sounds like you’re staying this time,” you hum, and the smile you get out of him shines brighter than anything you’ve ever seen.

“was considering it. you offering to keep me ?” he asks, a cheeky streak to his tone, and all you can do is laugh, tugging him down by the collar of his jacket.

blood and scrapes and split knuckles be damned, you were keeping him. for as long as he’d let you, frank castle was all yours. ⋆˚࿔

[bellsbookshop]

Thinking about taking a bath with Matt and how he'd wash the reader's hair and let them wash his as well :(((

yes ! i am a firm believer in a soft shared bath, especially with someone as touch starved as matt !

you’d sit in his lap, delicately working in his shampoo; he’d have his arms around your waist, keeping you close but also just relishing in the peace of it all. you’d both needed a quiet moment after a long day, no words needed because you both know each other so well. he’d tip his head back without you needing to ask, just the delicate tracing of your fingers along the side of his jaw enough for him to move.

he loves when you play with his hair, so washing his hair is like an out of body experience — he’s never felt so calm, for once all of his senses relaxed. not even the sounds of hell’s kitchen outside your shared apartment can disrupt the little bubble of safety you’re both hiding in, fully focused on the gentle drag of your fingers through his hair massaging in the shampoo, the light scrape of your nails against his scalp. he’s more than willing to return the favor too, and afterwards you both just lie in the bath curled up around each other, pressing sleepy kisses to warm wet skin and mumbling sweet nothings till the waters gone cold ⋆˙⟡

[i purposely left it a bit vague on readers end because there’s so many different hair types ! but i would love nothing more than to take a bath with that man and just relax 😌]

[bellsbookshop]

Thinking about how if you called Matt to tell him you're having a bad day, you'd get to come home to him having everything set up for you. Favorite snacks, your favorite wine, a bath run and ready for you. He'd just be so good at taking care of a significant other because he's so in tune with them

oh, absolutely this ! but i counter you with …

you don’t even have to tell him you’re having a bad day; he’ll call you while you’re heading home and he just knows from the tone of your voice. you can’t hide anything from that man, he’s perfectly aligned himself with every aspect of you, and he knows exactly what that tremor in your voice means. he’s opening the door before you can even get your keys out, immediately pulling you in for one of those combination tight squeeze & slightly lifting your feet off the ground hugs that just seem to regulate you perfectly. then he’s all but carrying you like that, hugged close to his chest as he presses kisses to your temple and tells you in no uncertain terms that you’re not allowed to lift a finger the rest of the night — he’s going to take care of you, because you deserve it.

giggling and kicking my feet just thinking about it !

[bellsbookshop]

Hi!! Welcome!!! Thinking about Frank being the silent doer type in the sense that he listens and does things without having to be asked. A new restaurant that has an insane wait list? You suddenly have reservations. The pipes under your sink have been leaking, and you have a horrid landlord? Both problems are taken care of. A man of few words and lots of action

thank you so much sweetheart ! i absolutely agree, frank is such an action over words man, especially when it comes to you !

he’s quiet but that doesn’t mean he isn’t listening — he remembers the tiniest details of your conversations with him, things you’d otherwise would have forgotten. a passing comment about how you’ve been craving a certain dessert from a cafe isn’t brushed under the rug, it’s immediately acted upon. two hours later it’s silently pushed into your hands, you hadn’t even realized he’d left the house ! and it doesn’t always have to be something you voice to him, he’s scarily observant; if he notices you’re always cursing at the fact you can’t balance all your hygiene products in the bathroom, he’s breaking out the tool box and building you a custom shower shelf without a word. he always brushes off your thank you’s, letting you kiss his cheek with a gruff “don’t have to say thank you, s’my job” that sends your heart aflutter.

[universe when is it my TURN !!]