I Miss Him...

it’s late, and you’re both curled up in bed, the room completely dark except for the soft glow of the moon peeking through the blinds. you’re lying with your back to simon, his arm draped lazily over your waist, fingers lightly tracing patterns on your skin.

"you ever think about what you’d do if you weren’t a soldier?" you ask, your voice soft in the quiet.

simon doesn’t answer right away, his hand stopping for a moment before continuing its slow, comforting motion. "no," he says finally, his voice a deep rumble in the darkness. "never thought that far ahead."

you smile to yourself, knowing that’s so typically him—always focused on the present, on the mission, never on what comes after. "okay, but what if you had to choose something else? anything at all."

he’s quiet again, like he’s actually considering it, and then he mutters, "maybe a mechanic. or a farmer."

"a farmer?" you ask, trying to hold back a laugh at the thought of simon, the terrifying ghost, tending to crops and chickens.

"yeah," he says, completely serious. "quiet life. away from everything. i’d like that."

you turn to face him now, grinning in the dark. "you? a farmer? with overalls and everything?"

"don’t push it," he grumbles, but you can hear the faint amusement in his tone.

you laugh softly, reaching up to brush your hand across his stubbled jaw. "i think you’d look cute. you’d be grumpy, but in a charming, farmer simon way."

he huffs, but you can feel his body relaxing next to you, the faintest of smiles tugging at his lips. "you’d get bored with me in a week."

"never," you say, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "i’d help you with the chickens. we’d live on a cute little farm with a big garden, and we’d sit on the porch every evening and watch the sunset."

"that sounds nice," he admits, his voice softer now, almost wistful.

you snuggle closer to him, feeling the warmth of his body as he pulls you tighter against him. "see? i think you’ve got the right idea. farmer simon. i’d take that over ghost any day."

he chuckles quietly, the sound vibrating against your skin. "you say that now."

you smile, closing your eyes as his hand moves gently through your hair. "yeah, well, i think i’d like you no matter what."

the silence settles again, but this time, it’s filled with a warmth that makes you feel like you could drift off to sleep any second, wrapped in simon’s arms and the thought of a peaceful life somewhere far away.

and just before you drift off, you hear him murmur, "i’d like that too."

------------------------------------------------

something short and sweet before i finish this longer fic i've been working on for a few days :) hope you like ittt

@daydreamerwoah @spicyspicyliving

Hi Starr I’m in desperate need of a jotaro fic anddddd

I’ve seen things here and there abt star platinum being super sweet and lovey towards the reader and I love that dynamic

Like like star platinum being super clingy and affectionate toward reader Bcs jotaro refuses to show it (it’s ok hubby I still love u)

Hi ! :] I absolutely LOVE this trope with Jotaro. Ugh. So I will feed your addiction as a fellow addict myself, I hope you enjoy Starlight <3 Hehe, Starr writing about Star

Jotaro with a gender neutral reader and a clingy Star Platinum

Jotaro was used to Star Platinum coming out on his own in dangerous situations. Faster than his mind can think.

Faster than a bullet at point blank range, Star could catch it in the air. It was a hard adjustment, really, but one he had to overcome in the end.

He just doesn't think he could ever get used to him coming out around you. Especially when he seems so damn clingy.

Sure, a stand is a manifestation of one's soul, and he cared for you, so of course, his stand would as well.

But he swears Star has a mind of his own every time it sees you.

It's not like he didn't show that he loved you, no, it's not that at all. Jotaro, at the very least, is a blunt man.

So he just shows it in different ways, like giving you the last water, checking up on you first, he'd even offer his jacket if you needed. Never hesitating to do anything to make you as comfortable as possible.

Even if he would hit you with a 'good grief' each time before, pulling his cap over his eyes.

Star Platinum? He braids your hair with the utter most precision compared to the amount of strength his strong hands holds.

He pulls you into his lap when the group is traveling. Wrapping his arms around you, just enough it didn't hurt.

A smile can't seem to leave his face, and Jotaro just can't control Star Platinum to stop.

If he's honest, he doesn't want him to...

Simply because of the phantom touch he experiences through his stand.

It comforted him knowing you were so close, in a way he could protect you if anything were to happen.

The most embarrassing time had to been when Star picked you flowers at a rest stop, and you thanked him.

Making him start grabbing you things he'd think you'd enjoy. You have a whole collection at this point.

Which is impressive considering you don't travel with much due to constantly being on the road.

Star Platinum absolutely loves you and shows it every chance he appears, and as the journey goes on. Starts being a lot. Especially since Jotaro only falls for you more.

Lucky for him, the rest of the Crusaders don't seem to mind. Even if he has to deal with the constant teasing of his grandfather and Polnareff... even Kakyoin sometimes joined in. That's when Star started to pout. What a child he was.

It's like you don't know that he can feel every touch, every kiss you place on Star's cheek as a thank you, every hand running down his arm. Fingers threaded together... He's always wanted to hold your hand.

Jotaro doesn't bother telling his stand off anymore. He's so comfortable around you. You make it easy for him to crack a smile in such desperate situations.

Even if he doesn't do it himself, and he has to rely on his stand, Jotaro absolutely craves your touch, the little praises ment for his stand, ment for in a way him. Or at least he hoped it was for him.

Writing Masterlist

Star shows that he loves you, in a way Jotaro can only dream of compared.

Kisses.💓

Such overprotective boy.

thinking about Eddie being so eager to kiss you all the time and he just gets a little too excited sometimes a little too rough and you bump into something and he cradles you while you giggle cause he can't stop smiling into his kisses

And sure maybe it's a little awkward and teeth knock against each other and he catches your lip in his teeth a little too hard but it's okay cause you're deliriously happy

And it's not about getting to the sex (not all the time anyways) but he's just so happy to have found a safe place to land and he's enthusiastic that he found someone who wants to kiss him just as much as he wants to kiss you

And this time he's not too much and his feelings aren't too big and he doesn't need to tone it down cause you're his person and he's yours

Okay bye ily

mouse. mouse get the fuck back here. MOUSE DONT LEAVE ME LIKE THIS

he's just so happy to have a safe place to land and this time he's not too much and his feelings aren't too big were daggers straight to my heart you come back here right now before i actually bleed out from needing this man so badly.

no but thats exactly it. eddie has spent so long jumping and toeing that line of either trying to cram himself into this bite-sized shape for the ones around him, and just exploding and pretending he doesn't give a fuck that he will never fit into anyone's cup of tea so he'll just make himself even larger, that when you enter his life he just doesnt know what to do about it.

because he starts with his regular tricks of being so over the top, so unbearable, and all you're doing is laughing and entertaining his antics. even playing along at times. and so he retracts a little, turning back into a quiet boy who will shrivel up until he's invisible or easy to love (whichever comes first). but then that doesn't work - and to be truthful, he doesn't even know what his mind's end goal is here because why is he trying to push you away so desperately? - and he's just at a loss. you want him on the thundering days, where he makes his grey clouds everyone's problem and all his lightning is blinding and sporadic. you want him on the quiet days, where the downpour is no longer a roar but a soft drizzle, a bit more silent and a bit more bearable but still there. and he can't tell if it's a joke - he can't decipher if your kisses amidst his rambles are sincere, if you're actually smiling at his jokes because you like him or you're too polite to break his heart. he can't see through those gentle hands you use to caress back his wild hair to be sure that the softest of touches are really just you, or some strange gloves of care that you're only simply wearing for now.

and then one morning, he wakes up, and you're still there, awake before he is and just watching him with so much love. feather-light fingers taking their time tracing over his tattoo on his chest and arms, not noticing he's awake yet as you smile so serenely at him. you're looking at him in a way that he's never really gotten to experience so vulnerably before - like he isn't a nuisance, isn't a mistake. like the universe has so intentionally dropped him into your palms, and you're so aware of how delicate he can be below the surface. and he just breaks.

"i love you"

he'd blurt it out, the first time he's ever said those words to you. it almost feels like the first time he's said those words, period.

he's said them to wayne, in their own way, both a bit stiff in expressing affection and skirting around those words whenever they can for a simply ruffle of hair or unexpected side hugs. he'd said them to his mom, a young boy with shining eyes despite it all, looking at her like she was the world because she was his world.

and... well. that's it. he can count the number of times he's said those words on one hand, and now he's said them to you, and all he can hope is you handle them with as much care as you've handled him.

he hopes you can feel the weight of his heart pressing down on them.

and he thinks you do, when you startle a little, looking up to his lips where those rough words had just fallen from in a cracking tone, and you take your time in awarding him with a smile that could save lives. cure cancer, cure sadness, cure the end of the world even. every cliche possible.

"yeah?" you'd whisper back, and his heart skips a beat, terrified that the next words you say won't be what he needs to hear so desperately. but they are. because of course they are. you wouldn't have been watching him sleep in that way if they hadn't been on the tip of your tongue, "i love you."

not a crash landing, but a soft-padded decent. a slow fall with a cushion to prevent broken bones and more invisible scars.

he kisses you then the way he was going to kiss you every day going forward: pushing forward recklessly, teeth and noses bumping a little, smiles making it nearly impossible. he kisses you like he's coming home after a long day, because he is.

he's home. no boxes in sight to fit into, no cups that'll overflow from all the fizzling feelings pouring out of his chest. you've got him, and he's got you.

Rintaro has no idea what’s coming to him.

So far, there’s been three videos about couples breaking up on your for-you-page, full of tears and heartbreak and anger as you scroll. You try not to linger on these videos for too long, lest they mess up your perfected algorithm, but for some reason, they always find their way back to you.

You don’t know how, or why he would… but you blame Rintaro.

With a huff, you throw your phone back onto the couch and stomp your way into the kitchen, where Rintaro doesn’t even spare you a glance. He merely takes a bite of his sandwich and continues to scroll on TikTok.

“Hey baby,” he says, mouth full of food. “What’s up-“

He’s cut off by you gripping his collar sharply, pulling it taught and pulling him with it. He whimpers and his eyes bug out of his skull, but he doesn’t say anything as you lean down to be face to face with him.

“Listen to me,” you snap, trying not to laugh at the way his puffed cheeks turn up to look at you. “We’re not breaking up.”

“…okay?” He whines a small laugh.

“Listen.” You pull his collar tighter, and he starts to giggle nervously, his cheeks growing bigger as he tries to swallow the bite of food in his mouth around your choking. “If you’re sick of me, take some medicine. If you’re bored of me, go play a video game. If you’re tired of me, take a nap. We’re not breaking up. Not now, not ever, do you understand me?”

He nods around his laughter, trying so hard to weasel free from your gripping of his collar. His hands paw at his plate for a chip to give you, in an attempt to satisfy you, but all you do is click your tongue.

“Do you love me?”

He can’t respond around his laughter.

“I said: DO YOU LOVE ME?!”

Finally, he’s able to nod and choke out a ‘yes,’ bringing the chip to your lips. “Okay,” you whisper menacingly, slowly releasing his collar and taking the chip from his fingers. “I love you too.”

“My throat hurts now,” he pouts.

“I’ll baby you once I’m done fixing my for-you-page,” you promise, kissing his head and leaving the kitchen, leaving him to process what just happened.

-

hehehehehehehe

Waking up at Eddie's house would include:

Getting woken up by the scream of the neighboor kids who are going to school;

Watching Eddie sleeping peacefully while he drools on the pillow. He always look so perfect to you;

Him starteling you at one point by telling you to stop staring;

Staying in bed for another hour just cuddling and peppering each other faces with kisses (not giving a shit about morning breath) and with your fingers touching his beautiful body, his tattoos, while with his he slightly touch the moles on your arm;

You trying to get up to have breakfast only for him refusing to let you go by blocking you with his body on top of yours. a pouting expression on his face once you get up;

Having breakfast with yoo-hoo and chocolate cookies while watching Scooby Doo;

Taking a shower together because, as he says, in this way you are not going to waste too much water;

Both of you shampooing each others hair and cleaning each others backs;

Lots of neck kisses and smiling each others smiles;

Eddie booping your nose (he is obsessed with it);

You brushing his hair gently to get rid of all the nods, trying to learn his hair routine, with your gentle touches making him relax so much that he almost fell asleep again;

You doing your skin care routine with Eddie looking at you attently, asking you the purpose of every product you are using.

waking up with a tiny flower that eddie had found and carefully tucked behind your ear while you were napping.

The Gift of Guido

Fluff

Guido Mista x f!reader

Mista can’t help but spoil you any chance he gets!

Warnings: translated Italian lol, slight cussing

Guido Mista was many things: laid back, fun loving, a bit too superstitious for his own good—he was also irrevocably, unconditionally, in love with you, and he made sure to prove his devotion to you any chance he got.

Ever since your first date, Guido would greet you with the most breathtaking florals anytime he was lucky enough to be graced with your presence.

“Un bel fiore per il mio bel fiore, (a beautiful flower for my beautiful flower)” he would say every time without fail, causing you to blush as brightly as the petals being presented to you.

“Guido, you’re too much,” you always replied, holding the stem gently between your fingertips, guiding the flower to your nose as you inhaled the fragrant scent. He would just gaze upon you, hand in chin with a dreamy look in his eyes, as if you were an angel sent down from heaven; for all he knew, you really were.

He would always take you on dates to the nicest restaurants in town, often asking Bruno or Leone for recommendations. While the men were partial to Libeccio, Guido was constantly on the hunt for newer, more exciting places to treat you to. He also hated that dining at a restaurant frequented by members of his team, especially the younger ones, meant being teased relentlessly throughout what was supposed to be a romantic outing for the two of you.

“Oooh I’m Mista and I’m in loooove with y/n!” Narancia teased from the table next to yours, shoving spaghetti in his mouth.

“You better shut it before I knock some sense into you,” Guido seethed, gripping the cutlery in his hand with white knuckles. Normally he would’ve immediately pounced on the boy but he tried his best to show self restraint in front of you. Narancia stuck his tongue out at Guido before diving back into conversation with Fugo, shoveling food into his mouth without a care.

“Please ignore him, Amore mio (my love),” Guido told you, “he’s being an idiot as always.”

“Huh?! You callin’ me names?” Narancia asked, standing abruptly from his chair. Guido’s eyebrows furrowed as he whipped out his gun from his waistband, waving it around in anger.

“I’m on a date, asshole! Leave us alone!”

“Knock it off, you two. Narancia, you need to study. You’re only getting stupider by the second,” Fugo interjected. Narancia huffed and sat in his seat once more as Guido tucked his weapon back into his pants and took your hand in his own, shooting you his suavest smile.

“Forgive the intrusion. Now, where were we?”

You just shook your head and laughed, finding the whole situation quite adorable. It was endearing how his team treated each other like family. In all honesty, you weren’t bothered the slightest by the interruptions, knowing you and Guido would be able to have plenty of alone time later.

Another thing Guido loved to do for you was treat you to expensive jewelry. Not having a steady income made it difficult at times to buy you the exact watch, ring, or whatever struck his fancy, but somehow, he always made it work.

You were sitting with Guido in your apartment, enjoying a rare quiet evening, when all of a sudden, Guido was wearing a grin that he didn’t bother trying to conceal.

“What? Do I have something on my face?” you asked, wiping at your skin.

“No way! The only thing on your face is beauty.”

“You’re such a womanizer, Mista,” you chastised, rolling your eyes playfully.

He brought his hand to his chest in mock hurt. “Womanizer? Il mio tesoro (my treasure), you’re the only woman that’s ever on my mind.” He reached into his pocket and procured a velvet drawstring pouch. “And that’s why I got this for you.”

“Oh, Guido, whatever it is, I couldn’t accept it-”

“I insist,” he said, his irises sparkling from the leftover sun filtering into your living room. You opened the pouch and gasped when you saw what was being held inside. Not believing your eyes, you pulled out a chain connected to a weighty, and quite large, diamond pendant.

“So? Do you like it?” he asked, his boyish charm on full display as he eagerly awaited your response.

“It’s breathtaking,” you managed to say in your utter disbelief. While you were grateful for his other pieces he had given you, this certainly took the cake. He must’ve saved up for a very long time to be able to afford the necklace.

“As are you.” He gestured to the chain. “Can I put it on for you?”

“Of course. Thank you,” you said, turning around. You shivered when you felt his fingers ever so slightly grace the skin of your neck as he began to clasp the necklace.

Tried to clasp it, that is.

“I’m trying to- it won’t- my fingers are too big-fuck!” He groveled, frustrated. Before you could even get a word in, he called out the Sex Pistols.

“You guys need to clasp this before I take the necklace back to the store and choke the salesman with it.”

A chorus of “sure Mista!”s and “anything for y/n!”s rang out as the bullets nimbly finished the job he started. Calling them back in, he wrapped his arms around you from behind and gave you a kiss on the cheek.

“You look amazing. Absolutely perfetta (perfect).”

“Thank you very much for the gift, Guido. I love it and I love you.”

“Anything for you, vita mia (my life),” he said sweetly, lazily slinging an arm over your shoulders with a lopsided grin. “Now, how about we go out and make some people jealous as you show off what it’s like to be dating mafioso such as myself?”

"You're staring, again! Pretty obvious, too."

Eddie was staring, how could he not? Your voice attracts him — beauty distracts him, vanishing into the memories of prophecies. Memories he'll make damn sure comes to pass.

Stunned him silent when you wandered up to him, smiling as your fingers wiggled at his, introducing yourself. His face tickled pink as his ring covered fingers grasp yours, swallowing his mumbling words as he tries to collect his thoughts.

He was positive hell froze over, opening the door to his trailer to find you gazing back at him. A handful of movies tucked under your arm, plastic dangling off your finger as you beamed up at him. "Spontaneous movie night?" You asked, shyly.

Precious, he thought.

First time he kissed you, that night — a core memory. Haven't left his side, settling in his heart nicely, locking yourself in. His girl, his baby.

So yes, Robin's right. He does fucking stare, every chance he gets. He'd be stupid to miss a chance for those exquisite, hypnotizing beauties to glance over at him.

Because if it wasn't obvious, Eddie Munson was in love with you.

Blueberry Muffin (Eddie Munson x Reader)

Summary: Eddie notices you're good at sharing your food. A little too good.

Pairings/Relationships: Older!Eddie Munson/Reader

Warnings/Themes: Established relationship, Food/Eating, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Brief mention of financial concerns, Discussion of trauma from previous relationships

Note: This is something entirely personal to me, it was something my ex did one-upon-a-time ago. But, like with everything else, Eddie Munson is a powerful tool to help you get over some of your issues. This fic might not be the best, but it helped me work through some old issues. And I'm pretty proud of that.

Shoutout to @undead-supernova who inspired me to write this while we were chatting about her excellent fic We Are Going To Be Friends, and @dr-aculaaa who is one of my lifetime mutual trauma ride-or-dies and told me my ex was actually trash (and they were trash).

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

---

If there was one thing that was the key to yours and Eddie's relationship, it was food.

Before there even had been a relationship, food had been one of the keystones of your friendship. You met at a friend's thanksgiving potluck, you always planned your outings around where you'd eat and the snacks you’d get, and during the group road trip up to Milwaukee for Mac and Cheese Fest, he'd finally gotten the courage to ask you out.

Food was life. You both agreed.

You were always good about sharing your food.

You, as in the two of you, sure. But specifically you.

It wasn't until the two of you were together and spent more time alone with each other that Eddie realized just how good you were at sharing.

Actually, good wasn't the right word.

Meticulous was more accurate.

If you took a bite of his burger when you went out for dinner, he had to have a bite of your pasta.

If you bought a pint of ice cream to share during movie night, you matched each bite spoon for spoon. However, if after a certain point of sharing he insisted that you could have the rest of the pint because it was your favorite flavor, the pint would inevitably make it back into the freezer without another spoonful taken.

On and on it went.

He tried to ignore it, but once he noticed it, it was hard not to.

At first, he thought that it was some relic of a less-than well-off childhood. Like Eddie, you'd grown up with a single parent and were occasionally foisted off on well-intentioned relatives to watch you while your mom worked. Thankfully, food was never scarce for either of you, but the fact that you'd been forced to grow up quicker than the others made you aware of generic-branded groceries and your mothers stretching their dollars and the pursing of lips when the bills came for special occasion meals out.

After a while, though, that reasoning disappeared. Yes, there were still habits that you formed from your mother's frugality but never to the point of anxiety.

This was something else.

And it all came to a head the day you brought home a bag of leftovers from work.

"Tom always orders too much when the execs visit the warehouse," you explained excitedly as you proudly showed off a plastic container of some gourmet salad and a few wax paper-wrapped sandwiches.

Then came the pastries.

A cherry danish you grabbed for Eddie specifically, and a pistachio-cream filled croissant that Eddie had heard you gush about a million times over. A few tiny cream puffs that both of you eagerly popped into your mouths.

And one blueberry muffin.

"Oh!" You faltered at the sight of it and then looked back into the obviously empty paper bag. "I thought there had been two."

"That's ok," Eddie shrugged. "We can just split it."

"No!" you snapped at him, your eyes wide. "You can have it."

"Sweetheart, I know you love muffins as much as I do," Eddie scoffed. "We'll just split it. No big deal. It's a pretty big muffin."

He watched as you worried at your lower lip for a long, drawn out moment before you nodded.

He kissed the side of your head and turned to grab plates and drinks. He carried as much as he could out to the living room so you could eat dinner in front of the TV. When he returned to your side to grab the food and start plating up your plunder, he stopped in his tracks at what he found.

Splitting a muffin was a no-brainer, typically. Or so Eddie thought. Just peel the paper lining and split that sucker in half. But there you stood, knife held in a shaky hand, shifting back and forth a few millimeters every so often, trying to find the exact equator of the confection before you so it could be cut in equal halves.

"What are you doing?" Eddie asked as gently as he could, but you still flinched, and when you looked up at him, your eyes looked glassy.

"Just cutting the muffin in half," you tried to laugh and play it off, but Eddie could see through the facade.

"It's just a muffin," he tried to offer, as though reminding you that it was, indeed, just a muffin would break you from this fit.

"It is," you looked down again, almost in shame. "Isn't it?"

He let you have a second, let you put the knife down and take a few deep breaths to calm yourself. When you nodded and held yourself a little more confidently, Eddie closed the distance and split the muffin in half by hand, right down the middle along the score line you had started.

And he pretended that he didn't notice the way you'd held your breath while he did it.

"Let's have dinner then," he suggested.

---

"You gonna tell me what all that was about?" Eddie asked once dinner was almost over, his mouth full of cherry danish, crumbs spewing from his lips as he spoke.

You ignored him for a second, picked at your own laminated pastry, until he continued.

"You know I always thought your mom really hammered the sharing is caring thing with you. But you went full King Solomon on that muffin and...I know that look in your eyes because I've seen it in the mirror a ton of times. That was fear. That was pain. So, are we gonna talk about it?"

You sighed and considered telling him no, you wouldn't be telling him jack shit, but...how many times had you pried into things that you really had no place asking about and he still told you anyway. That's how communication worked; that's how a relationship worked.

And that was how you got into this mess wasn't it?

"You remember my shitty ex?" you began tentatively, with a question.

"Shitty ex Number 1," Eddie scoffed. "Or shitty ex Number 2?"

"Number two."

"Should've known," he said under his breath but nodded for you to continue. "Alright, so what else did they do?"

Because the list had been...extensive already, you were loath to admit.

But you were with Eddie now, and things were infinitely better. You could work through these hurdles with him.

"It all started when we still worked at the mall together," you began. "Before we even started dating, actually. We'd meet on breaks and shoot the shit and one day, the little bakery only had one blueberry muffin."

You glared at the split muffin sitting on a plate on the coffee table, as though it was at fault, and not your ex.

"We decided to split it. Nothing wrong with that. We only had a fifteen, it was just a snack. But when they went to split the muffin...they took the muffin top, and left me with the stump."

"The...stump?" Eddie asked slowly, unable to comprehend.

"Yeah," you leaned forward and tapped on the base of the muffin that had previously been encased in paper. "The stump."

"That's...only assholes split a muffin that way." He paused and considered it. "But it's Shitty Ex Number Two. So I shouldn't expect anything less."

"I didn't think anything of it then," you continued. "Or the next hundred times we split a blueberry muffin on breaks, even when we started dating. They would always get the delicious, crispy, sugary muffin top, and I would always get the stump. Half-clinging to the wrapper, maybe a blueberry burned on the bottom. Never an equal half, always less-than!

"Until one day, there was this especially delicious looking muffin. It wasn't even at the mall, we were on a real date! At a real, nice bakery. With blueberry muffins, because that was our thing, and I made the mistake of asking if I could have the muffin top. Just once. And they looked at me like...like I just asked them to sacrifice their mother or something."

You felt your lip tremble, and the familiar sting of tears in your eyes.

That sense of loathing that you always felt when you thought of that moment, or really any time you got a blueberry muffin.

You took a breath and said, "they just told me that if I really loved them, I would let them have the damn muffin top. Because it was their favorite."

"That's bullshit!" Eddie got to his feet, arms thrown up in the air. "Sorry sweetheart, that's bullshit and, I'm sorry but, you deserved so much better. You deserve to have half a muffin. Half of the whole muffin, not just the stump. Fuck, you deserve the whole damn muffin yourself! It’s just a muffin!"

"I know!" You shouted back at him, causing him to stop his ranting and raving. "Don't you think I know that? It’s just a muffin and I shouldn’t have had to make myself accept less than what I deserved but it was the first in a long line of things where they made me feel like I wasn’t worth half. I wasn’t worth anything. And if I tried to prove that I was, to them and to myself, I would look crazy. Because it’s just a muffin.

“That's why I started...that's why I started taking what I deserved. I started taking half, instead of giving everything Eddie. If you get a bite, I get a bite. With everything. Because I deserve it!"

You thought of the way you had to meticulously tried to split the blueberry muffin earlier.

"Maybe...maybe I take it a little too far sometimes," you muttered, letting the tears finally fall. "Because I don't want to be selfish like they were, and take more from you than you deserve."

"Baby," Eddie dropped back onto the couch and corralled you into his embrace, pecking kisses to the side of your head. "Who fucking cares? Don't worry about me. Shit, I'll give you anything you want. I'll take anything you leave behind. I'll give you my whole cheeseburger at Benny's, if only you asked for it. And if you left me one singular pickle chip, I'd take it without complaint."

"I would never ask you," you laughed wetly.

“No, but you could ask, that’s the point. And I would give it to you.”

"I know I could. And I know you would...I just...I can't break myself from the habit. Not yet, at least."

"I get it," Eddie said into your hair as he continued dropping kisses. "The shitty exes leave their scars and you do your best to keep from opening the wounds up again. I get it."

You knew. You both had your fair share of scars.

---

It took a few minutes, as you basked in one another's comforting presence, before you inevitably shared the damn muffin you brought home. Eddie insisted on letting you take an extra bit off his muffin top, even when you rolled your eyes and told him to stop.

Neither of you brought it up again for a few days, but you both were a little more conscientious when you shared food.

You made nachos for his Friday night DnD session with the guys and he left you the core nacho that held everything together; it was extra gooey with cheese, and loaded with jalapeños. You made sure to take an extra big bite of his pint of rocky road when he offered, even if he didn't want a single bite of your rum raisin. And when it was his turn to take bites of your food, you didn't pay attention to how much or how little he took.

It still felt a little wrong, but it was insanely healing. You didn't need to worry about keeping things fair and equal with Eddie; your relationship was already fair and you were equals.

And of course, Eddie kept your revelation at the forefront of his mind to hold you accountable to your own bullshit. He noticed when you fell into old habits before you could and even came up with a form of punishment if you subconsciously made sure to take the same number of bites off a shared plate as he did:

He would give you a vegetable off his plate.

"I'm not a fan of broccoli anyway," he grinned cheekily, waving his fork with the aforementioned green in front of your face one night at dinner.

"You're an idiot," you shook your head, but took the bite regardless.

It was slow and steady, but you were getting over the hurdle together.

Then one day, the unexpected happened.

You were at work, doing your little mindless computer work as you did, when your coworker called your name from the front of the office.

"Is it your birthday or something?" Jill laughed as she hauled something through the sea of cubicles.

"No, did someone get me flowers or something?" you asked and stood from your desk to meet her halfway.

"You can't eat flowers," she said as she turned the corner, holding a massive basket.

Full of blueberry muffins.

You didn't need to read the card tied to the cellophane-wrapped basket full of baked goods to know who it was from, but you did anyway to satisfy your coworkers' curiosity.

And they didn't quite understand it, but it made your heart melt.

I didn't ask if they sold a basket of only the tops, because I didn't want them to think either of us were sociopaths. It’s just a blueberry muffin. But you're worth every muffin in this damn basket, sweetheart. Never forget that. Love, Eddie