a/n: The first morning after moving in together is special in such a quiet, magical way — nothing fancy, just the comfort of waking up in the same bed knowing you don’t have to say goodbye at the door anymore. Anon request!
pairing: scaramouche x you
genre: fluff
The first thing you noticed wasn’t the light through the curtains.
It wasn’t the faint noise of cars passing on the street outside your new apartment.
It was him.
Warm. Heavy. Draped over you like he’d melted in his sleep. His arm was curled snugly around your waist, one of his legs hooked lazily over yours, his face tucked into your shoulder like he was trying to fuse with you.
The scent of fresh laundry lingered faintly in the room — not because everything was actually fresh, but because all your clothes had been washed before packing them. The cardboard smell of moving boxes still clung to the corners, and there was the faint, sweet note of his shampoo in your hair from last night’s shower.
Everything was new and a little messy. The curtains weren’t hung properly, just clipped to the rod with binder clips. Your nightstand still held a half-empty mug from the exhaustion tea you’d shared after unpacking. And yet… the bed felt like home already.
You shifted ever so slightly, trying to stretch your legs.
Instantly, the arm around your waist tightened.
"…Don’t," came his low, sleepy mumble.
You smiled into your pillow. "Don’t what?"
"Don’t move. Stay here."
"I was just going to get some water."
"You were going to abandon me," he corrected, his voice muffled and warm.
You turned just enough to see him. His hair was rumpled, sticking in every possible direction. His eyes were only half-open, a little glassy with sleep, his cheek pressed into the pillow. He looked impossibly soft like this — which was unfair, because he’d argue later that he "looked like a zombie."
"You’re ridiculous," you said fondly.
"I’m comfortable," he countered. "And you’re ruining it by thinking about leaving."
You let yourself sink back into the pillow. "What if I wanted breakfast?"
"Order in," he replied instantly.
"What if I wanted pancakes?"
He shut his eyes again. "I’ll make them. Later."
"How much later?"
"When I feel like letting you go."
Last night had been a whirlwind.
You’d carried the last box up the stairs, both of you groaning about how your knees weren’t built for this. You’d argued about where to put the couch, laughed when he insisted his game console deserved its own shrine in the living room, and ended up eating takeout straight from the containers while sitting on the floor.
By the time you’d both collapsed into bed, you were too tired to do anything but curl into each other. He hadn’t let go of you since.
"Scara?" you murmured now.
"Mm?"
"What if I wanted to shower?"
"Then I’m coming with you," he said without hesitation.
You rolled your eyes, grinning. "Of course you are."
The room was quiet except for your breathing and the faint hum of the fridge from the kitchen. For a moment, you thought he’d fallen back asleep.
Then his voice came again, softer:
"I like this."
You tilted your head to look at him. "Like what?"
"This," he said simply. "Waking up and you’re here. No texting you in the morning, no waiting for you to come over. Just… here."
Something in your chest fluttered.
"I like it too," you whispered.
His mouth curved into the smallest smile. "Good. Because you’re stuck here."
You laughed quietly. "Forever?"
"Forever," he confirmed, pressing a lazy kiss to your temple before burying his face in your hair again.
The water could wait.
The breakfast could wait.
Even the half-open boxes waiting to be unpacked could wait.
Because it was your first morning together, and the only thing that mattered was the warmth between you, the quiet certainty of his arms around you, and the unspoken truth that this — the slow mornings, the shared space, the easy closeness — was exactly where you were meant to be.
LORE TIME:
back when 007n7 was shifting around foster homes, his aunt/uncle finally got the chance to take him in permanently, making him soon settle in
while settling in, re-adjusting to his NEW life for the millionth time, guess who he found moving in at the same time :)
(no they did not know each other prior, this is where they met !)
Summary: You and Frank decide to have a moment for yourselves and bake together, but baking leads to sweet confessions and new beginnings.
Trigger Warning: mentions of violence, mentions of torturing, mentions of death [all of these are very subtle most of it is just fluff], mild suggestive touches, kissing, ansgty but there's an happy ending, soft Frank, estabilished relationship.
A/N: Hello there! I think a couple of days passed since I last posted but I wanted to say a big thank you to all of you!! You've supported me so much in the past days and all the likes, reblogs and new following just makes me so happy and proud!
I'm glad you like my fanfiction and can, somehow, find comfort in them. It means a lot to me.
after all those angst i needed something softer tho. :')
You chuckled as you urged yourself to stand next to your boyfriend. Frank wasn’t a phenomenon in the kitchen, he never had been. But he wanted to try anyway, for you.
He knew you had a great passion for cooking. Always the sweet one baking cookies, cakes and pies for him to taste when he came back home from a stressful day.
Let’s be honest, when he agreed to cook with you, you didn’t have to beg at all. Your big doe eyes always had a way with him to convince him of anything.
“You’re supposed to put ‘em in the sugar first, then mix them with the flour!”
You scolded him and he stepped back right away, letting you take the lead. He watched you from afar like you hung the stars, with arms crossed against his chest and back leaned on the table.
You broke the egg in the bowl watching it amalgamate with the sugar, and you started stirring the liquid dough that was forming.
Then, once you were satisfied with the result, you mixed it with the flour and kneaded what was forming.
Your hands were sticky with the soft dough, and when you turned around you saw Frank still standing there with those big brown eyes looking at you.
“What are you waiting for?! Come help me!” He chuckled as he walked over you and placed a kiss on your temple.
“Yes ma’am.”
As he worked on the dough, you washed your hands and got all the stuff you needed to start to chop the chocolate.
Every now and then he turned around to look at you, deep in your world as you moved your hips to the beat of the soft music as you mouthed made up words.
Suddenly, he stopped taking care of the cookies and the baking. Like something else snapped him from whatever he was doing and a realization hit him.
It was something vulnerable, maybe it was knowing that you were with him.
You heard the water run before feeling two big hands at the side of your waist. A soft gasp left your lips at the sudden contact.
“Frank what–” But you got interrupted straight away by Frank’s warm mouth on your neck and back. You let out a gasp at the sudden contact and couldn’t help but to melt in his arms instantly, and to put the knife down.
He started to sway with you as his head stayed in the crook of your neck, humming the melody of whatever was playing on the stereo. You spun in his embrace then, and wrapped your arms around him as you played with the hair at the nape of his neck.
Moments like these weren’t usual with you, but when they happened, you both made sure it lasted every minute you had at your disposal. So you could enjoy it properly.
His gaze flickered from your eyes to your lips before he leaned in and caught them with his.
Your mouth moved slowly and softly against each other’s. His hands shifted to pull you closer and flush against him. Now they weren’t resting anymore just on your waist, but around you.
He was embracing your figure like he was afraid you might’ve slipped away if he didn’t hold tight enough. Your hands moved from his hair to his cheeks to cup his face, like you were craving his contact. Maybe you were.
When you separated from one another, your breath mixed together and your forehead touched.
“Hi.” Frank broke the silence first, then you chuckled.
“Hello.” Your soft voice left after his.
You were giggling like teenagers while hugging each other’s frame. In the meanwhile, the world outside for Frank, and for you too, was completely forgotten.
Frank forgot he killed for a living. He forgot the numbers of lives he took.
He forgot the bad life he chose after that day.
You forgot about your work. About your worries and about how much it hurts to see him leave everyday for a different mission.
But now it was just you two.
“It’d be pretty,” You start, looking up at him deeper, but more distant at the same time. “a life like this. Always.”
You swallowed.
“Yeah.” Frank answered. “It’d be.”
But he said those words like he knew it wasn’t possible, because there were things that kept him away from this. From you. Even if you lived together, even if he kissed it better every time it hurt… He still felt distant.
Then he saw your eyes. They were sad and begging to let tears out, but most of all, they were begging him to stay.
At that sight alone, his heart tightened and he gulped. He couldn’t bear seeing you like this for a minute longer.
“Let’s move.” You looked at him with furrowed eyebrows, confused. What was he saying?
“Let’s get a pretty house, with a kitchen you can cook in for how much ya want.” You chuckled at his statement, but when you saw he didn’t even smile back, your smile dropped.
Oh. He was serious.
“I’m not jokin’, sweetheart.” He shook his head. “We get a pretty cottage, get away from everything.”
“From everyone.”
You hadn’t spoken a word since he started talking about this. About a future with you. You’ve faced the topic a couple of times, but every time it sounded like dreaming. Just a pretty imaginary you two had before he left for another mission, like you just needed it to escape from reality.
It never felt this close to something real.
“Maybe we even start a family.” But when he said that, he mentally took a step back. “If ya want to.” He said right after, gulping. It was like he was afraid he could ruin the moment, like he was used to. To ruin the people around him.
And he never wanted to ruin you.
“Yeah.” You nodded when his gaze lowered. “Yeah. Let’s move.”
His eyes snapped at you the right moment you agreed with him.
“Get a place,” you continued “just me and you.”
Frank nodded, “Just me and you.”
You knew Frank Castle was capable of many things. He was capable of killing and torturing, and to do awful things. But he never thought he was able to settle down again after what happened to him once.
Frank didn’t know he would eventually be able to call a place ‘home’ again, but with you, he found the courage to.
And when it happened, he held you a little bit closer and tighter.
Now he kissed you longer, like he was savoring you. Not like he was saying ‘goodbye’, fearing that that could’ve been the last time he felt your lips against his.
Now he breathed in your shampoo more carefully, like he was anchoring himself to what was once just a dream.
Now the morning air seemed less sharp when he got out of bed, and the sun seemed brighter. The sheets turned softer and the nightmares almost disappeared fully. Your arms went warmer – Not that they’ve ever been cold for him.
And the rain against the windows felt like home, not something to be annoyed about or that made him feel calmer ‘cause with that sound, enemies wouldn’t have found him just as easily.
And all of this happened in that pretty cottage you so dreamed to move into with him.
Pre/no-outbreak AU. Husband!Joel, Wife!Reader, and Sarah.
Tags: fluff, slice-of-life, domestic!joel, fem!reader, mild profanity, pregnancy (reader), minimal reader description, no use of y/n, reader is sarah’s mom, girldad!joel is canon, joel miller is in looooveee!, camcorders, sarah is a menace, but also so smart, fluff, fluff, fluff!!!
Author’s Note: dedicated to anon who asked about a second part to Moving In! from the bottom of my heart, thank you for all of the love on the first part, and alsooo on Check Me Out!! you all are actual sweethearts. the camcorder plays a very central part in this because i just found my camcorder from one of my short film projects in high school and got incredibly sappy about it. i hope you all enjoy :)
Word Count: 2.3k
—-------
“And how many spots does Miss Ladybug have?”
Sarah taps her finger against each black dot on her beloved plushie, eyebrows furrowed with the most concentration you’ve ever seen from the 5-year old.
“Seven?” She looks up at you, lifting the fluffy red insect up as if you need to count how many spots are on its back too.
“Mhm, she’s got seven spots. Good job, bug.” You smile, pinching her cheek before flopping down onto her tiny bed and hauling her into your side.
Sarah picks up one of her toy cars that’s been swallowed by the soft cotton of her blanket, balancing it onto the bump of your belly. “Not sure your sister likes being used as a race track.”
You’re about to ask Sarah how many purple butterflies are on her pillowcase, an attempt to get the plastic vehicle off of the hill of your tummy, when someone knocking interrupts you.
Joel stands in the doorway of Sarah’s room, smiling when he sees you two cuddled up on her bed. “Where was my invitation?” He teases, stepping forward on the plush carpet. You don’t miss his quick glance to your stomach.
You smile, about to tease him back, when you notice something in his hand. Something you forgot about up until this moment.
“Is that-?”
“S’from your aunt,” Joel holds the silver camcorder up for you to see better. Its metallic paint glimmers against the early-noon light bleeding through Sarah’s sheer, pinkish curtains. He sits down on the bed, mattress sinking under his weight as you move to sit up, practically snatching it from his hands.
“What is it?” Sarah squeezes in between you and your husband, ever the curious one.
“It’s my video camera from high school.” You say, barely a whisper. Your fingers trace over the puffy stickers adorned onto the back of the display screen. “Where did she find this?” You smile in disbelief.
Joel shrugs, lifting his daughter up and onto his lap with a soft grunt. “Didn’t come with a note or anything, just showed up on the front porch. Came with the charging cord too.”
You huff out a little laugh, flipping the display screen open and pressing the on button. As if the device is frozen in time, it immediately unveils the last thing you recorded before the camcorder was tucked away in the attic of your childhood home. “Oh, geez- I don’t want you seeing this.” You cringe, hiding the display against your chest as Joel tries to peek at it.
“Uh- might’ve already looked.” He admits with a guilty look.
You glare at your husband, eliciting a nervous laugh from him.
“Only watched a couple’a seconds, I swear.”
You hum before revealing the display to the both of them, pressing play and letting it run.
“Hey! We’re at uhm- quit that!”
You watch as the much-younger version of you on the screen giggles and fumbles with the camera before pointing it at the mirror in front of you.
“We’re at Lindsey’s house, gettin’ ready for prom. Look at their pretty dresses.”
The speaker whirrs as teenage-you zooms in on the sparkly material of your friends’ attire. You sigh, looking up at Joel to distract yourself from your awful haircut from a little over a decade ago. Side-swooped bangs clipped back with a flowery-purple hairclip that matched your dress. He’s grinning so wide that his eyes almost disappear, a boyish look that shaves ten years off of him.
“Look at your momma, ain’t she just the cutest thing-” he chuckles.
“Joel,” You groan, setting the camcorder down on one of Sarah’s pillows and covering your face with your hands.
He picks it up and lets Sarah hold it as they both continue watching, a perplexed look on your kid’s face. You realize how peculiar this may be for the both of them– Sarah seeing a version of you before she even existed, Joel seeing a version of you before you were each other’s.
“You two can have fun with that, I’m gonna go- I don’t even know.” You mumble, quickly getting up before the squeaky voice emanating from the device makes you curl in on yourself.
—-------
It’s been a year since you moved from your apartment on the outskirts of downtown Austin to the quieter, tree-lined cul-de-sac a little further south of the city. Your home.
Joel’s words from a year ago echo in your brain as you stand in the office-turned-nursery that sits across the hall from your own bedroom. We’ll figure it out, he said then. And you did.
Now, just a couple months from your due date, the four green walls surrounding you feel surreal to stand in, even now.
So lost in your head, you don’t immediately register the hand that rubs at your lower back. Soothing. Always there.
“Thinkin’ about movin’ the crib again?” Joel murmurs against your temple.
You giggle, tilting your head to look up at him. “Now that would be cruel.”
He smiles, detaching from you to readjust the blanket that’s fallen from the rocking chair in the corner.
“Could build you a crib for every corner of this room.” He says quietly.
“I know.” You reply. Because he would, if you asked him to. Maybe, even if you didn’t.
He walks back over to you in gentle strides, big palms resting on your belly. “Sorry for peakin’ at your video camera earlier. Should’ve asked first.” He kisses the crown of your head.
You scoff, lifting your arms to wrap around his shoulders. “Please. I was being dramatic.”
He pulls back to look at you, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Wish I knew you back then. Would’a been whipped for the pretty girl in the purple dress. Had you on my arm the whole dance.”
“I think I would’ve despised you.” You tilt your head. Joel raises his eyebrows. “Don’t take it personally. Just had a thing against dating in high school.” You shrug.
“Reckon I would’ve tried anyway.” He leans down for a proper kiss. Smug.
“I reckon you would’ve.” You repeat in a whisper, just before pressing your lips against his.
—-------
“Careful now, sweetheart,” Joel calls out over his shoulder as Sarah holds the camcorder in both of her hands, the dim, red recording light turned on. She’s been glued to the thing all day, sitting on the couch, watching the videos that you double-check and deem appropriate for her to watch. She’ll have to wait a little longer for some of the other ones, you decide.
At one point, she asked you if she could record her own video on the device, and you hesitated. “Not sure if there’s still space in this thing to record another video, bug.” Your heart clenched when you saw her deflate, so you decided to try anyway. To you and Joel’s surprise:
RECORDING…
The word began to blink in the corner of the display screen, and you quickly handed the thing off to your kid.
Now, while you sit on the porch steps with an icy glass of water and the latest edition of a parenting magazine flopped-open on your belly, Joel hammering together a narrow flowerbed that lines the porch railing, your mini-Spielberg wanders around the front yard with the most serious expression on her face.
“Hi, my name is Sarah, and this is my house.” She speaks to the camera, brilliantly lifting it up to make sure your home is in-frame. “That’s daddy, and momma-” She lowers it down, pointing the lens at you both.
She waddles closer to you, propping one foot up on the step you’re sitting on and pointing the camcorder directly at you. You have to hold back a chuckle.
“My lil’ sister’s in her belly.” Your heart melts at the sweet drawl of her voice, unarguably something she picked up from Joel. Before you can say anything, she’s already walking over to where her dad is crouched on the grass, the rhythmic thunk, thunk, thunk of the hammer in his hand securing the final nail in the flowerbed.
Arm lifting to block the sun from his eyes, Joel turns to look at his Sarah. “Is it still goin’, baby?” He asks, awkwardly hobbling over to her on his grass-stained knees to look at the display. He hums contently when he sees that it still is. “Should show ‘em momma’s new flowerbed.” He nods at the camera with a smile.
To his disappointment, Sarah lets out a little hmph before turning away and deciding to film the Adler’s front yard instead. You gasp, jaw dropping as your head whips over to see your husband’s deflated expression.
“Ouch, Miller. Your own blood thinks your craftsmanship isn’t worth the memory card space.”
He looks at you, completely defeated as your kid busies herself with filming the rainbow windspinners dotting the lawn. You nearly burst out laughing as he flops down on the step next to you, a grown man sulking. He sighs loudly, seemingly on purpose, as it draws Sarah’s attention.
She quickly skips over with stiff arms, making sure not to drop your camcorder, before nudging her way into her dad’s lap. Joel damn near melts. He smiles at you over her shoulder when she hugs him in a silent apology.
“S’okay, babygirl.” His hand soothes up and down her back.
Joel takes the video camera from her hands, flipping the display screen so that it faces the three of you. His arm extends with the camera and he squints his eyes. You want to tease him for his poor eyesight, to tell him that he’s gettin’ old, that he needs those readers that you got him as a joke for his last birthday.
But as he’s blabbering to the camera about something that makes Sarah squirm with laughter, all you can think about is how perfect the three of you look, squished together in the small, rectangular frame.
—-------
“Joel,” you giggle, attempting to nudge your husband away with your elbow. “I’ve got carrots to cut.”
The sound of your knife against the wooden chopping board resumes when he finally stops trying to kiss your neck, amidst your ticklish protests.
“Should’ve let me cook tonight. Give you and the baby a break.” He sighs, reaching for a stalk of celery.
“A break from… painting candle jars and reading parenting magazines?” You quirk an eyebrow up at him, tipping the chopping board and letting the carrots fall into a bowl.
“It’s tiring work.” He says, dead-serious as he sets the celery down and inspects one of your upcycled jars sitting on the window above the kitchen sink.
“Asshole.” You mutter, gently kicking his foot with yours. He laughs.
“Sarah, honey, dinner’s almost ready- Jesus-” Joel’s hand comes up to rest over his heart in shock. You give him a weird look, then turn around, understanding why he was startled.
Your kid, silent as ever, standing in the archway of your kitchen, camcorder pointed directly at the two of you.
“You really love that thing, don’t you, bug?” You shake your head lightheartedly, moving to pull up a seat for her at the dining table.
She nods, finally setting the camera down and reaching for her dinner with eager hands.
“It’s for my sister.”
You and Joel pause, glancing at each other, wondering if the other understood what in the world your 5-year old is trying to say.
“What is?” Joel inquires.
“The movies I’m making.” She replies, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
Pregnancy hormones be damned, you nearly start crying. It seems like Joel might break too.
“S’that right, sweetheart?” He lets out a teary laugh, hand coming up to run his fingers through her curls. “Movies for the baby.”
—-------
Only when you’re curled up with Joel in bed do you watch all of Sarah’s videos.
The first one you watch, it’s you and Joel in the kitchen just hours prior. Your two figures are silhouetted by the warm lighting of your kitchen, your giggles echoing from the old speaker as you cook.
The second one, Sarah’s voice comes through. The camera shakes as it passes from your hands to Sarah’s tiny ones.
“Hi, my name is Sarah, and this is my house.”
“That’s daddy, and momma- my lil’ sister’s in her belly.”
Your heart aches like it did when you first heard her say it. You move your head against Joel’s chest to look up at him, and the ache grows stronger when you see him tearing up.
“Sap.” You tease, never ever giving him a break.
“Can’t wait to show these to her.” He sniffs.
You don’t have to ask to know who he’s talking about.
When you press the button to go to the previous video, you’re met with a still-frame of teenage-you, all dressed up for her last prom. It feels like a shock to your system, like dunking your head in ice-cold water.
But when the shock subsides, you can’t help but feel a little pride.
You remember how unsure you were about your future at the time. You were terrified, and there was so much pressure on you to make scary decisions that you thought would change your life, for better or for worse.
The display screen blinks to black, the aged battery giving up for the day. It remains steady in your hand.
What you see now is just you. A little older, a lot wiser. But, it’s still you.
The decisions you made then, as scary as they seemed, led you right to where you are now. In your home, in Joel’s arms, in the room next to your daughter’s, with your second one coming soon.
Or maybe it started with your hoodie hanging in Matt’s closet.
Or the hair tie on his nightstand.
Or your iced coffee order already saved in his DoorDash app.
Either way, moving in wasn’t some huge, dramatic conversation. It was Nick, half-asleep on the couch, mumbling:
“Why don’t you just move in already? You’re here more than you’re not.”
And Chris, from the kitchen, shouting, “Yeah, you might as well start paying rent.”
Matt looked at you from his spot beside you on the couch, your legs tangled lazily with his, his hand resting over your thigh like it belonged there.
He smiled. Soft. Easy. Familiar.
Like this was already home.
“Do you want to?” he asked, so simple.
You blinked. “Move in?”
“Yeah. Officially. Like… you and me. Here. Together. All the time. If you want.”
You grinned. “I thought you’d never ask.”
Nick, from the couch cushion beside you: “God, finally. Can we get a celebratory pizza or something?”
Chris: “I’m already ordering it.”
⸻
Packing wasn’t glamorous.
Mostly because you didn’t actually have that much to pack.
You’d been living halfway at Matt’s already — your clothes spilling into his drawers, your skin care on his bathroom counter, your books stacked beside his on the nightstand.
Still, Matt showed up with moving boxes like it was an event.
“Label them,” he said seriously, handing you a Sharpie.
You wrote, in huge letters on the first box:
Y/N’S STUFF (MOSTLY SWEATERS)
Matt laughed. “At least you’re honest.”
Packing took forever because you kept getting distracted.
First, Matt found an old hoodie he thought he’d lost and immediately demanded you put it on “for science.”
Then you found your old photo albums, which somehow turned into an hour of you sitting on the floor with Matt’s head in your lap as you flipped through childhood memories.
“Your bangs were… intense,” Matt teased, smiling up at you.
“Okay, Mr. 2014 Flannel Phase.”
———
It was time to move all your stuff in
Nick showed up with coffee and zero helpful energy.
Chris showed up with snacks and even less helpful energy.
“We’re here for moral support,” Chris said, stealing a muffin from the box meant for movers you didn’t even hire.
“I’m literally driving the U-Haul,” Matt pointed out.
“You volunteered,” Nick reminded him, sipping his latte.
Still, between the three of them — and your mildly competent direction — things got moved. Boxes stacked. Furniture awkwardly wedged through door frames.
Nick nearly dropped your dresser.
Chris definitely did drop a box labeled “fragile” (it was just throw pillows, thankfully).
Matt, sweaty and smiling and very much in boyfriend mode, kissed your temple when it was finally done.
“You’re home,” he said. Simple. Sincere. “Officially.”
You looked around the apartment — at the chaos of half-unpacked boxes, your stuff blending into his, your life blending into his.
It felt good.
It felt right.
It felt like forever could start here.
⸻
The first week felt like playing house.
Sharing a bathroom.
Fighting over blanket space on the couch.
Realizing Matt was a little too serious about folding laundry “correctly.”
Nick and Chris came over constantly under the guise of “welcoming you properly,” which really meant stealing snacks and crashing on your couch.
“You’re stuck with all of us now,” Chris said, mouth full of chips.
“You’re lucky I like you,” you teased.
Nick grinned. “You love us.”
Matt, wrapping an arm around your waist, kissed your cheek. “Especially me.”
Later, when the apartment was finally quiet, Matt pulled you onto his lap on the couch, your legs draped over his, his hand tracing slow patterns along your thigh.
“You happy?” he asked, soft.
You smiled, resting your forehead against his. “Yeah. Really happy.”
His grin matched yours. “Good. ‘Cause I’m never letting you leave.”
You kissed him, slow and certain. “Didn’t plan on it.”
⸻
Your routines settled easily:
Coffee in the mornings — Matt always adding too much creamer.
Workdays interrupted by texts like “miss you” and “dinner’s on me tonight.”
Nights wrapped in blankets and soft laughter, old sitcoms playing on loop.
Matt’s hoodies became yours without question.
Your playlists bled into his without complaint.
Your side of the bed became the right side — not because you claimed it, but because Matt always settled naturally on the left.
One night, curled together after a movie, Matt said, almost sleepily:
“This… this is what I’ve always wanted. Not the big stuff. Just… this.”
You kissed his hair, smiled against his skin. “Me too.”
And when he whispered, “I love you,” you said it back like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Because it was.
⸻
A month later, Nick came over and found you and Matt arguing over which throw pillows looked better on the couch.
Nick watched for a second, then smirked.
“You guys are disgustingly domestic now.”
Chris, walking in behind him: “Bet they’re fighting about colors again.”
Matt pointed dramatically at the mustard-yellow pillow. “This one is objectively ugly.”
You rolled your eyes. “You’re just wrong.”
Nick laughed, flopping onto the couch. “Married energy. I love it.”
Chris grabbed chips. “Told you they’d end up here.”
Matt ignored them, pulling you onto the couch beside him, arm sliding naturally around your shoulders.
“Fine. You win. Keep the ugly pillow.”
You smiled. “See? Compromise. We’re thriving.”
Nick threw popcorn at both of you.
Chris changed the TV to something stupid.
And Matt?
Matt kissed your temple, settled in with you pressed to his side, and thought — yeah.
Inky's note: I'm so bored that I wanted to write some headcanons of the reader living with Bendy.
Warnings: Bendy's mischief.
Gender: Neutral
♡ 𝐵𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑦 ♡
When Bendy steps into your home, his small stature makes everything seem larger than life to him. His eyes widen as he looks around, practically craning his neck to take in the taller furniture and shelves. He seems a bit awestruck, like he’s just entered a new, giant-sized world.
You guess it's because he's been staying in the studio for 30 years he hasn't gotten a chance to see different colors and new things besides the old yellow sepia and black ink everywhere. Poor thing.
Depending on how big your house is he might end up knocking over a few things with his tail. You saw him knock over a picture frame and it tilted slightly out of place, and he gives you a bashful, toothy smile, almost as if to say, “I didn’t mean to!”
With his small size, things seem more fragile around him, but he’s quick to shake off any little mishaps.
You gave him a tour around your house, showing him where everything was at. He even touches everything with curiosity in the middle of the tour.
When you both reach the kitchen, he has to stand on his tiptoes to open some of the drawers. He manages to pull open a cabinet door, peeking inside with wide eyes.
You find yourself stifling a laugh at how he has to reach just a little higher to grab things. When he spots the fridge, he’s practically dwarfed by it, looking up with awe as the light clicks on when he opens the door.
In the living room, when he spots the TV he’s transfixed as he moves closer to the screen, looking at it with awe and tentative pokes. You turned on the TV with the remote and watched him jump back a bit, his eyes huge as he takes in the moving images. It’s clear he’s both mystified and excited by these strange “moving pictures” in your TV.
A lot of people seem to forget the fact that he's practically made out of ink due to the machine so he's bound to leave some ink stains and trails here and there.
You saw a couple of ink stains on your counters so you gently handed him a cloth. You showed him how to wipe things down, and he watches with wide eyes before mimicking you.
He ends up cleaning the counters and they are spotless. He gives you a subtle smile and making a mental note to be careful—or at least to try to be careful.
Eventually, Bendy finds his way to the couch making it his new favorite spot to lie down on or sleep. He plops down, making the cushions creak a bit under his weight, and gives a relaxed sigh, practically sinking into the couch with satisfaction. He looks up at you with a happy smile.
Although he might slither into your bed with you while you're sleeping. You'd wake up to him tickling you.
You'd be the one to cook Bendy all different kinds of food and he is absolutely in an ecstatic state after each taste. The food tastes like heaven, or maybe it's because you're the one cooking it. <3
You teach Bendy how to make desserts and other sweet food because he does well when making those. He can make soup though!
After he settles in and gets comfortable, Bendy has already begun to think of this place as his new home away from the old abandoned studio. He gives you a warm hug, his tail curling in contentment, clearly thrilled to be in a space that feels warm, safe.
