#i guess i wrote this post a while back and filed it away for when i thought of more hcs

[coff33andb00ks]

Recipe for the Perfect Christmas 12/12

One part small town girl coming home from the big city. One part handsome stranger. Five parts lifelong friends (don't forget to include their partners). One part stubborn father. A dash of Christmas spirit. Part: Twelve of Twelve Pairing: Oscar Piastri x ofc (with appearances from Mark Webber. Lando Norris, Carlos Sainz, Esteban Ocon, Pato O'Ward, and George Russell) wc: 5,670 warnings: none soundtrack: spotify ⋆❆⋆ apple music nav: One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven | Twelve a/n: the ending is here!! can't believe I panic wrote 60k words in less than two weeks but here we are. thank you to everyone for reading! (i will post a small epilogue tomorrow)

"Hey, Natalie? You got a minute?"

Looking up from sorting the papers on her father's desk, Natalie saw Max in the office doorway. It hit her again that this was now his office and she was relieved that the pang in her chest wasn't as sharp this time. "Yeah, sure," she said, standing. "What's up?"

He waved at her to sit back down and stepped inside. The apron he wore made him look a little odd in her opinion, though she knew she would get used to seeing him wearing one. She knew that he and Eve were technically living in town now. Oscar had told her there were just a few things left at their place in Fairview to bring down. Now that he wasn't going back and forth, Max had begun coming to the bakery every day. And though it had felt weird, having him standing next to her while she prepped croissant dough for the next morning, over the past week she had come to enjoy his company. He fit right in, the customers liked him, and he knew nearly as much as her father did about baking. He was as likeable, with a bit of sarcasm in some of his quips, and she had seen him work enough in the past week to know that he was a perfectionist.

"Is everything okay?" she asked when he sighed and shoved his hands into the pockets of his apron. An instant later he was pulling his hands out and fiddling with the snow globe on the edge of the desk.

"Yeah, no, everything is fine," he said with a quick smile. "I just wanted to…"

He sighed again, and Natalie frowned. "What, Max?"

"You know Eve's pregnant?" he asked, picking up the snow globe.

"She is? I didn't know. Congratulations," she said, grinning.

"Thanks." He grinned as well, reminding her that he was a devoted father. "We're not telling everyone yet because it's early, but… " His grin only widened. Turning the snow globe in his hand, he tipped it until the glitter and fake snow inside collected at the top. "We're pretty excited."

"New town, new house, new business, new kids… You two just have to go the extra mile, huh?"

"No kidding," he chuckled. He held the snow globe upright, watching the snow and glitter swirl. "Anyway, she won't be able to help out for long. Her pregnancy with Lucas wasn't easy and she was put on bedrest. I'm not saying that's gonna happen this time around, but we're gonna need to be careful, you know?"

"Yeah."

"And I'm still learning my way around here," he went on, setting the snow globe back down. I know Mark's only a phone call away and unless I've got him wrong, he'll show up at least every other day, but…"

"You don't want to bother him," she guessed, warming to him even more.

"Exactly. And, um, you know this place better than I do."

"Not really."

"You do, Natalie. And you've done a damned good job. Mark told me he couldn't have kept everything going these past few weeks without you." Max sighed again. "What I'm saying is…"

Natalie waited for him to either gather his courage or his thoughts. Looking down at the paper in her hand, she wondered if her father needed a receipt from an order he'd placed six years before. Knowing him, he would want to hold onto it just in case. She leaned to set it in the stack of receipts that she would later work to organize by date and then find the spot in the filing cabinet for them.

"Would you consider staying on?" Max asked.

"Staying on?" she echoed.

"At least part-time. Until after the babies are born and Eve can get back to work."

"That's a year from now," she murmured.

"Yeah, at least," he sighed. "I don't know what your plans are after Mark's surgery, but if you're gonna stay in town, I'd love for you to keep working here."

"I—" Natalie faltered. She thought of the voicemail she had saved on her phone from Katie in Atlanta. Katie, who'd emailed her photos of a cute apartment with a nice view. Katie, who'd offered her a bonus to assist her in her move. Katie, who she hadn't called because she was still warring with herself over whether she wanted to accept the job. She both did and did not.

"You're good at this. You're great at baking. You'd be a huge help. I'm not trying to guilt you, but I know Mark would rest a little easier knowing you were here. Hell, I'd be a little easier knowing you were here. And I think the people that come in here every day would be less upset about me taking over if they knew a Webber would still be in the shop." He cleared his throat and pulled a slip of paper from his pocket. "I sat up late last night doing some figuring, and this is what I can offer for pay and benefits."

She took it, looking at the neatly written figures. "Can I think about it?"

"Sure. Just let me know in a couple days, because if you don't want the job, I'll have to look into hiring someone else."

She nodded. "I'll let you know tomorrow."

"Great." He smiled and turned to leave the office. "We're still on for tomorrow night?"

"Yep." It had been her father's idea to have a Christmas Eve party and invite a few people over. Nothing fancy, mainly finger foods and treats and Mark's special Santa's Whiskers cookies, hot cocoa and coffee and eggnog, Christmas cartoons and carols. When she had left the house he had been at the kitchen table, making lists of what he needed to get done. It had given him a new sense of purpose, especially when Max and his family, her friends and their partners and kids, and Oscar had said they would come.

"Perfect, you can just tell me tomorrow night, then," he said before leaving.

Turning back to the papers, she began to sort, softly humming along to the music Max had playing in the kitchen.

The bakery was moving into good hands, she thought, smiling when she heard Eve's laugh as Max began to sing along with Nat King Cole. It would forever hold memories for her, both good and bad, but she now accepted that it was time for a new set of memories. Lucas would no doubt picture his father at the counter, grinning and offering him a cookie. Grace would soon learn all the nooks and crannies where she could tuck herself away to read or play quietly. Max and Eve would love the building and everything in it. Maybe not as much as her father did, at least at first, but they would with time. And their obvious love would keep customers coming.

She picked up the slip of paper Max had given her and read it over again after she had sorted all the papers in the desk. It was a generous offer. Not as much as she would make in Atlanta, but… The cost of living here was a lot lower.

Another tick in her mental pros and cons list.

After storing the keep pile and tucking the questionable pile into a large envelope, she glanced around the office. Her father had already taken out the things he wanted at home. A few photos, gifts customers had given him over the years.

She turned slowly to look at the hook on the wall, expecting to see her mother's apron where it had always been. The hook was empty and the air left her lungs in a shaky exhale. Had he taken it home? She hadn't seen it in the box of stuff she'd carried inside from his truck. She reached for her phone to call him and ask him, then remembered he was busy in the kitchen. He wouldn't answer, if he even had his phone on him. She could wait until she got home and ask him.

Stepping out of the office, she spotted Eve heading out the back door and stopped her. "Did you see the red apron hanging in the office?"

"The one with flour?" Eve asked.

Natalie nodded, a bundle of panic forming in her gut. "Yeah. I-it was Mom's."

Eve's expression softened. "I didn't know. When Mark was here this morning he took it down."

The panic fled and she let out a soft sigh. "He took it home?"

"Yeah. I offered to just throw it in the laundry but he said no." The woman's eyes flashed with sadness. "I hope I didn't upset him."

"You didn't, I promise. He told me once it would hang there until the place was no longer his."

"That's beautiful." Eve smiled sadly. "I wonder if…"

Her gaze drifted to her husband and Natalie knew what she was wondering. She doubted she should comment, since she didn't know them intimately, but she was already starting to nod. "Yes."

"You think so?"

"I know so."

Penny cautiously circled the room, nose pressed to the floor. Her tail wagged slowly as she explored, occasionally snorting, and when she reached Oscar's boot she stopped, head tipping in confusion. Then, with a snort, she moved by him and slipped into the next room. It was the kitchen, and all Oscar could smell when he followed was the faint aroma of fresh paint, but she showed keen interest in all corners and especially in front of the stove. The dog circled the room again, tail wagging faster, and after giving a quick bark she trotted into the little utility room, tail banging against the washer and dryer. After a moment she was back, tongue lolling happily, and stopped in front of him.

"What do you think?" Oscar asked.

"I think I've seen a many things in my life, but I've never seen somebody need a dog's opinion before deciding to buy a house," Carlos said.

Oscar chuckled. "It's gonna be her home, too, if I buy it."

"You still don't know?" Carlos looked up from his phone.

Sighing, he looked around the kitchen. It was small, and the cabinets would need replacing. He had no idea if the L-shaped counter was enough space, or if the spot near the window would hold a table and chairs. He closed his eyes for a moment then looked again, imagining the things he would like to do. Turning, he did the same to the living room and thought of the two bedrooms and little bathroom. Nodding to himself, he leaned down to clip Penny's leash to her collar. She groaned lightly, still unused to it, perking up when he offered her a treat.

"I think I do," he said finally. But still he hesitated, Natalie's words the night before echoing in his mind.

With the bonus they're offering I could hire someone to help Dad out around the house.

It seemed she was leaning closer to moving to Atlanta, despite her whispers that she needed him.

He thought of the offer his father had given him. Back home, he would be close to his parents. Not that they needed him nearby. They seemed more energetic now than they had when he was a child. And even if they did need one of their children near, one of his sisters lived two houses down. But he would be close to home, even if it hadn't felt like home since his grandmother had died, and he would have steady work, even if it did feel like a nepotistic handout.

"I'll let you know for sure in a couple days," he told Carlos as they walked outside. Then, realizing the date, he chuckled. "Or maybe the first of the week?"

"You know where to find me," Carlos told him with a grin. "Or let me know at Mr. Webber's tomorrow?"

Penny buried her nose in the rosebush next to the steps as soon as her feet hit the ground.

"Mr. Wright grew that from a cutting his mother gave him." Carlos watched Penny sniff around the rosebush. "She grew hers from a cutting her mother gave her, and the story was that her grandparents brought he original plan over with them from Scotland."

"Is there one at his sister's?"

"Yes. We have one at home, Sasha was given a cutting when we moved in." Carlos shivered. "Weather's changing."

"Yeah," Oscar agreed, though he had no idea how the man could tell. It was almost warm, the sun peeking out occasionally from clouds that spit pitiful rain every few minutes. "I was hoping for a white Christmas."

"It'll happen." Carlos nodded.

Oscar squinted as the sunlight appeared, as though to prove the prediction wrong. "I'll take your word for it."

Promising to let Carlos know by the first of the week, Oscar opened his truck door. He unhooked Penny's leash after she jumped in, and waited until she had moved to sit on the passenger seat before climbing in. The dog gave a small whine after he started the engine and began to back out of the driveway, and he sighed as the sunlight disappeared and rain began to splatter on the windshield.

"I know, girl," he murmured. As he drove towards Max's house, he wondered if the dog would enjoy his old home.

***

Christmas Eve dawned, cold and cloudy. Natalie shivered when she pulled back the curtain and saw the heavy frost on the ground, sparkling in the early morning light. The sunlight was weak. When she looked up to the sky she could see clouds starting to creep in, and thought of her father's prediction for a heavy snow.

There was music playing in the kitchen when she got downstairs, and the smell of coffee and pancakes and sausage. She slipped around her father to fix her plate, quickly getting out of his way. The counters were covered with ingredients and utensils and the beginnings of his prep work for the food they'd eat that night. She ate her breakfast quickly, almost silently, her father too focused on his different stations to be conversational.

There was a fitful snow starting to fall when she rinsed her dishes and put them in the dishwasher. Unsure what else to do, she pitched in to help her father get cookie dough and pastry dough ready to chill, mainly moving behind him to wash dirtied utensils and wipe off the floured surfaces once he finished. She wasn't needed, she realized when they bumped into each other the third time. At a loss, she finally washed her hands and looked out at the softly floating snowflakes.

"Max offered me a job," she blurted.

Mark stopped chopping pecans. "Did he?"

"At the bakery."

"Doing what?"

"What I've been doing." She paused. "He can offer me a decent pay."

"Do you want to?" he asked carefully.

"I think I do."

"What changed?" There was no hurt in his voice and for that she was glad.

"The bakery doesn't hurt anymore," she admitted. "And it would be part-time, so I could still do writing on the side. Plus, he needs the help."

"He doesn't."

"Eve's not gonna be able to help him out for long." She told him the news, enjoyed the warmth of his surprise and joy for them. One day, she hoped, she would be able to tell him that she would be having a baby and could only imagine his delight. At one point when she had imagined her future children they had been vague, dreamlike figures. When she closed her eyes and thought of them now, they had distinct grins and chocolate brown eyes.

"I thought you were going to Atlanta."

"I thought I was too," she whispered. Opening her eyes, she saw the tiny flakes were growing larger.

"Penny go?"

"Of course Penny's going. Mister Mark would turn us away if we didn't bring her." Max laughed and held up the pair of pants. "Get these on."

"Cookies."

"Not now, you'll ruin your appetite." Max grabbed his son's swinging leg and before Lucas could slip out of his grip he had the pants up to his knees. Then he paused. "…Do you need to pee?"

"Need cookie."

"You want a cookie. You don't need a cookie."

Lucas shook his head. "No want. Need."

Max sighed with defeat and turned to Oscar. "Help."

"Hey, you created him, I'm just the guy that spoils him rotten."

"He's got his mother's sweet tooth. Do you know what he had for breakfast this morning?"

"Yeah, waffles."

"Before that." Max tugged his son's pants up and caught him before he could slide off the bed. "Shoes, Lucas."

Oscar handed over a shoe. "What did he have?"

"Brownies."

Oscar stared at his friend. "You gave him brownies? And you're still alive?"

"Barely," Max muttered. "It's not my fault that he got his mother's pout, too."

"Not to mention your stubborn attitude," Oscar pointed out when Lucas began to crawl across the bed after one shoe had been slipped onto his foot.

"It took me two hours to get my ass out of trouble." Max leaned forward and dragged his son back towards him. "I don't even know if there is a rosebush that grows purple roses naturally."

"There is."

"Thank god." Max slipped the other shoe onto Lucas and stepped back with an exhausted sigh. "Done!"

Lucas slipped off the bed and stood, brow puckering, one hand clutching the edge of his mattress. "Pee."

"You've got to be kidding me." Max dragged a hand over his face. "I just asked—And you said—If I give you a cookie will you go pee in the potty?"

"Cookie!" Lucas squealed as he was scooped up, and his giggles rang in the air while Max hurried into the bathroom. "Cookie for pee!"

Laughing, Oscar pushed himself to his feet. "You're bribing him."

"I'm doing whatever works. I'm trying to get some headway on this before the baby comes."

"That's months away."

"Do you not know how long potty training can take?" Max snorted. Then his voice softened. "You done?"

"Pee."

"Yeah, son, pee. Have you finished peeing?"

"Cookie."

"After you pee."

"Cookie."

"In a minute."

There was absolute silence. Oscar counted along in his head, biting back a laugh as the seconds stretched on. Then, triumphantly, Lucas clapped. "Cookie now!"

"I don't have a cookie right now."

Lucas's long-suffering sigh was audible even to Oscar. "I done."

"I can't do this again," Max announced after helping his son wash his hands. "Grace was easy. He's stubborn as hell and has me wrapped around his finger. He pouts just like Eve and I give him whatever he wants."

"Grace has you wrapped around her finger, too," Oscar told him, following them into the hall.

"You're right," Max chuckled. Swinging Lucas up onto his hip, he headed down the stairs. "You ready to go?"

Oscar opened his mouth to say that he would drive himself, not wanting to be squeezed between the two car seats in the back of Max's SUV. His phone began to vibrate incessantly and he pulled it out, frowning when he saw Mr. Wright's name on the screen. "Yeah, almost. I'll meet you there."

He barely heard Max's reply, turning to go into the guest bedroom to answer the call. "Hello?"

"Oscar?"

"Yes, sir." He frowned, walking over to the window to glance out. It had snowed off and on for most of the day, but not heavily. The grass was covered and there was a soft dusting on the road. Squinting at the streetlamp at the corner of the lot, he couldn't see any evidence of anything falling.

"I just got an offer on the house and unless you want it, I'm gonna let them have it."

He almost asked who, but the man went on.

"Tommy's son is getting married in the spring. His girlfriend lives over in Lakefield and he brought her to take a look at the place this morning. She fell in love with it, and…" Mr. Wright sighed. "Have you made up your mind yet?"

He hadn't. So many things were up in the air at the moment. Drawing in a breath, he hesitated. Mr. Wright didn't rush him, and when he saw Max's car pull out of the drive he squeezed his eyes shut. "I…"

"We shouldn't stay long. It's really coming down."

"You don't have to stay. I'm just glad you stopped by." Natalie took a sip of her cocoa and slipped her arm around Susie's shoulders for a squeeze.

"We'll stay a bit longer. Michael is having so much fun."

Looking over to where the boy sat near the tree. He and Grace were chattering excitedly while building some sort of intricate tower using the building blocks Natalie had given Michael. Next to them was the half-finished page from Grace's new coloring book featuring horses and cowboys. Her gaze moved around the room, looking for Lucas, and she smiled when she saw him leaning to get another cookie from the platter on the coffee table.

Hannah was on the couch, talking animatedly with Amira and Sasha, who accepted Lucas when he crawled into her lap. George was squatting next to Mark's armchair, the two chatting while Lilli danced with Carlos to the song playing. Another glance showed Pato and Amira tucked close to each other, talking with Franco and Ollie and Mrs. Jones, who'd arrived with them. Max and Eve were sipping eggnog and talking to Esteban, who was inexplicably wearing a cowboy hat.

"Do you know Esteban and Max were joking around that Michael and Grace should get married?" Susie grunted. "At least, I hope they were joking."

"Arranged marriage?" Natalie asked with a grin.

"Pretty much." Susie was not amused. "It's so disgusting."

"Misogynistic," Natalie agreed with a nod.

"Oppressing and sexist."

Natalie looked on while Grace jumped to her feet and grabbed Michael's hand. The two walked to the center of the room, giggling, both staring up at the ceiling. Her gaze shifted and she saw the bundle of mistletoe her father had insisted she hang from the light fixture.

"Aww," Susie cooed.

Snapping her attention back to Grace and Michael, Natalie laughed. Michael's lips were pressed to Grace's cheek. She could hear the exaggerated smack of the kiss, and then again when Grace kissed his cheek. Giggling, they skipped back over to the blocks and resumed their play.

Natalie turned to her friend. "Then again, they may have a point."

"Guess I should drag Esteban over for a kiss."

Natalie rolled her eyes. "Like he needs mistletoe to kiss you."

"No, but it's tradition." Susie smoothed the front of her sweater and flicked her hair over her shoulders. "Excuse me."

Shaking her head, she watched Susie move across the room to her husband, who was still chatting with Eve. Max had been with them, and she now saw he had stepped into the dining room. She watched him frown at his phone before slipping it into his pocket, and when he reentered the living room she softly called his name.

"Have you heard from Oscar?" he asked.

"I was about to ask you the same thing." Everyone else had arrived nearly an hour before. She hadn't worried, because he had promised he was coming. He had sent her a text just before Pato and Amira had gotten there, saying he would be a little late. Reaching to pull her phone from the pocket of her jeans, she groaned when she saw it had died.

"I just called him, it's going to voicemail."

"Did his phone die again?" she sighed, setting her mug of cocoa on the mantle and heading into the kitchen. "That happened the night of that bad storm a couple weeks ago."

"Either that or he turned it off. He does that when he's got to think about something."

Plugging up her phone, Natalie drummed her fingers on the counter for the entire three minutes it took for the device to charge enough to power on. It seemed to take twice as long for the Apple logo to appear, and four times as long before the lock screen finally loaded. She unlocked it, then gave the phone time enough to catch any missed calls, voicemails, or texts.

"Anything?" Max asked, looking up from his own phone.

She opened the text she had received and frowned, confused, as she read the words that had been sent more than thirty minutes before.

I'm coming. I've just got to figure a couple things out. I might not be able to get the house. I might take the job with Dad. But I need to know what you're gonna do. I know I shouldn't make life decisions based on just four weeks of knowing someone but I am.

"Well?"

"I've gotta go," she blurted, pushing away from the counter. Max stumbled when she bumped into him, and she muttered a quick apology as she heard his phone hit the floor. Hurrying out of the kitchen, she noticed but didn't really see Esteban and Susie kissing sweetly beneath the mistletoe. It occurred to her as she snatched her coat off the rack that she should tell her father where she was going, but she heard his warm laugh and decided she didn't have time.

The snow was coming down thick and heavy. The street was white and she walked quickly as she could, slightly lightheaded from the snow whirling around her. When she reached the corner of Halifax Street her steps quickened, and she heard the snow crunch beneath her boots as she reached the beautiful Victorian house. Bedecked in lights, trees twinkling through the upstairs windows and the large window downstairs, it positively glowed with warmth. She skidded to a stop, gasping, and saw that Oscar's truck wasn't in the driveway. She looked at the house again. The lights and snow created an aura of merriment and she could almost feel the joy that would fill the house in the coming years.

She wanted that joy for herself.

Where was he? She walked to the driveway to make sure his truck wasn't there. Saw only Eve's car backed up to the garage. Turning, she began to slowly walk back down the street, barely feeling the cold or the snowflakes landing on her cheeks. He was going to leave. She couldn't blame him. Guaranteed work, close to his parents. She didn't want him to stay here just for her, even if she had called Katie that afternoon and told her she wouldn't be taking the job. Even if she had thought of seeing him every day at the bakery while she worked for Max, who'd seemed overjoyed when she had pulled him into the kitchen as soon as he'd arrived to tell him she would stay on. And when she'd confirmed her father's appointment for pre-op bloodwork the next week, she had thought of Oscar's comforting presence while she waited during her father's surgery, and his easygoing company in those first days after her father came back home to recover.

Stopping on the corner, she wiped the mixture of tears and melted snow from her cheeks, groping in her coat pocket for a tissue. Oscar would leave, and she would stay, and every time Max or Eve mentioned him she would think of everything that could have been.

She was about to start walking again when she heard a dog start barking. It was too loud and clear for it to be inside one of the nearby houses, and she glanced around. Turning, she heard the bark again, coming from down Brickyard Avenue. Funny, but it almost sounded like Penny, she thought, finally finding a crumpled tissue to use to wipe her face. The snowfall grew heavier and she sniffled, about to continue on her way home when movement caught her eye.

A small dog coming up the street. It passed below a streetlamp and she saw the green dog sweater. She blinked in surprise as it bounded towards her. "Penny?"

Of course it was Penny. No other dog in town that she had seen had the same coat and coloring. As the dog approached she heard the jingle of her collar. Glad as she was to see the dog, worry pricked through while she squatted to greet Penny with a hug.

"Where's—"

"Natalie!"

There he was. Coming up the street in a jog, breath fogging around him. Penny ran back towards him and Natalie followed, stride lengthening to close the distance. "Where—"

"My truck broke down, I turned my phone off so I could think, and I left it at the house." He stopped, catching her arm when her boots slid on the snow. "I had to run see Mr. Wright."

"What hap—"

"I don't know, I think it's the alternator. I left it out at Mr. Wright's." He drew in a breath. "I bought the house."

"What?" she gasped, grasping the front of his coat.

"I'm staying. I couldn't let someone else get it, because when I took Penny to take a look yesterday she loved it and because I kept seeing things I wanted to do with the house and the land. It's taking all my savings, and I'll have to eat ramen for a year, but I want it. For the first time since I broke up with Lauren I want to own a house." He was breathless, either from excitement or his run. "Mr. Harrell was at Mr. Wright's, and he said he needs someone to do maintenance on his rentals."

Natalie nodded, though he was speaking so fast she could barely keep up.

"I start week after next. Doing what I did for Max and Eve. It's not gonna be easy, but I know I can do it." He paused and swiped snow from his cheeks. "I don't know what you're gonna do, Natalie, but I have to stay here. Yeah, I know I'm falling in love with you, but I fell in love with this town and all the crazy people in it."

"I'm staying," she told him before he could continue. "Max wants me to stay at the bakery, and Dad needs me. And I'll be able to do my writing. I don't know if I'll find anything I can do remotely, but I'll try. If nothing else I'll start a blog or maybe write that book I've wanted to write since I was a kid. I can't leave again, because if I do I know I'd never come back—"

"Thank god," he breathed, pulling her to him.

"What?" she whispered after his lips pressed to her forehead.

"You're staying. And not for me."

"You're a little bit of the reason—"

"You're staying because you love your dad and you love the bakery enough to help it keep going and because you love this little town," he insisted.

"Yeah," she admitted with a small laugh. "I do."

"And I'm staying because I love this little town and I love being close to my idiot friend and I love that little house."

At their feet, Penny barked.

"And I couldn't take her away. She'd never forgive me for taking her away from Mark."

"Neither would he," she said.

"I'm glad you're staying," he murmured. His arms wrapped around her.

"I'm glad you're staying," she returned. Leaning against him, she felt a giddiness rise up within her as his words finally registered in her brain. "And I'm falling in love with you, too."

"Yeah?" He grinned, his beautiful, adorable grin that warmed her heart.

"Yeah," she whispered just as his lips found hers.

She pulled back moments later, a little dizzy and weak, and gazed up at him. "Come on, Dad's gonna get worried when he realizes I left the party. And there's presents waiting for you."

"Presents?"

"Dad got you something. I did, too."

"I think Max brought my gifts with him," he said, keeping one arm around her as they began to walk. He called to Penny, who trotted alongside them until they reached Natalie's street. Then the dog gave a tiny yip and bounded ahead. Oscar laughed, tucking Natalie closer to his side. "What did you get me?"

"I won't tell you everything, but one of them is a phone charger for your truck."

"A charger." He nodded. "Useful."

"You need it."

"I do."

"What did you get me?" she asked, watching Penny jump up the steps and onto the front porch. Her friends' cars and trucks and Max's SUV were still parked out front and she was glad. All those closest to her would be there to celebrate both her news and Oscar's news. Penny began to scratch at the door and she tried to remember if she'd placed a towel near the door to catch snow. The dog would need a good rub down.

"I won't tell you everything," Oscar chuckled. "But one of them is a book."

"A book?"

"Yeah. It'll come in handy, since you're going to keep working at the bakery."

"What is it?" She stopped halfway up the walk, waving to her father when he opened the door. Oscar waved, too. Mark waved back with the towel he was holding, then closed the door after Penny slipped inside the house.

Oscar turned to her, arm slipping around her waist and drawing her close. "A cookbook."

"A cookbook," she repeated, lifting her eyebrows.

"Baking for Dummies."

Before she could give an indignant reaction, he swept her close and kissed her. She laughed against his lips, too full of hope and joy to be outraged by his gift. She heard the front door open again, music and laughter spilling outside.

Pato's voice rang out, disgusted. "What the hell is with you two and standing outside in the cold?!"

The End

[bellysoupset]

Leo's Birthday

Soooo this fic actually takes place 4 fics in the future and I'll make sure to leave it in the correct order in the masterlist. But I wrote it first and I don't have the patience to wait to post!

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“Hey, Wagner,” Dean poked his head inside of the empty conference room, where Leo was hunched over his papers, reading over a previous case similar to the one he was currently handling. 

It was only his third case, he couldn’t fumble it. 

“Yeah?” Leo didn’t bother looking up, so he startled when Dean suddenly grabbed him by the shoulders, “Martin, what are you doi-”

“Mark your page,” Dean bossed, squeezing his shoulder, with a smile on his face, “I gotta show you something.”

Leo scoffed at the order, but his curiosity was piqued and he obeyed, marking his page and putting the files away inside his case. They walked out of the conference room together and then entered the elevator. 

“Where are we going…?” Leo frowned as Dean pressed the last digit. The top floor only had Mrs. Mitchell’s office and the rooftop…

“Wait and see,” Dean was bouncing on his feet and Leo squinted, suddenly very suspicious. Surely his co-worker wouldn’t be this happy over bad news, they were friends, so- 

The door opened and Leo nearly jumped out of his skin as a huge “SURPRISE!” followed.

He startled, his back hitting the inside of the elevator, then let out a chuckle at his own expense. His coworkers were all gathered around the door. Sandra, Chuck, Nicole from the reception, Mrs. Mitchell — his boss! —, others as well. 

Sandy was holding a box with a bento cake and two cupcakes inside of it. The icing was a deep, forest green, with golden flakes all over it. Their office’s colors. 

“You didn’t think you could hide your birthday from us, did you Wagner? We’re professional snoopers,” Dean messed up his hair, shoving Leo out of the elevator. There was a table on the rooftop and they had piled on little tea sandwiches, more green cupcakes and a champagne bottle.

Leo’s chest squeezed with happiness, “I wasn’t hiding anything, I - I love this, thank you,” he interrupted himself, as Sandra passed the box with the mini cake and cupcakes to Chuck’s hands and pulled him into a hug to congratulate him.

It was nearly the end of their day, so they spent an hour there celebrating. Leo devoured his cake. It was almost too much for one sitting, but he hadn’t had lunch, so that hit just the right spot. 

Still, as they wrapped up, he was feeling full enough he decided to skip on the two cupcakes and just bring them home for later. 

“Go home, Wagner,” Mrs. Mitchell patted his arm, “and next year we hope to know with more advance than Dean guessing because he was snooping during lunch,” she rolled her eyes, “so we can have a proper lunch in celebration.” 

“This was amazing, I don’t need anything else, ma’am,” Leo blushed and she wrinkled her nose at his line. 

“Don’t settle for less than you deserve, Wagner. Now get out of my sight before I change my mind.”

She talked like their football coach, Leo thought with a smile, nodding and heading to the elevator. Maybe that was why he liked her so much.

Having two hours more than he had expected, Leo took his time driving home, stopping along the way to pick up flowers for their apartment and treats for JD.

Leo called Vince, but he didn’t pick up, indicating he was on the road. Jonah was surely still at the hospital. Leo took a long shower, then hit the dial to Luke, while putting the two remaining cupcakes in the fridge, taking a needless bite of one. He was bored and ready to start his birthday celebrations. 

“Hi kid,” Luke picked up on the second ring, “sorry, I’m in the middle of something. Is this anything urgent?”

“No,” Leo pouted, “we can talk at the restaurant, I was just bored and wanted to chat.”

“Sorry,” Lucas sounded busy, “I’m in the shelter-”

“The homeless shelter?” Leo raised his eyebrows, squishing the phone between his cheek and shoulder and falling down to his knees as he saw JD get out from under the couch, “what are you doing there?”

“I started working here yesterday,” Luke was breathless, “I’ll tell you all about it over dinner. See you in a couple hours, kid.” 

“See you,” Leo sighed, hanging up and then getting down on his stomach on the floor in order to grab his cat. JD let out an indignant meow at Leo snatching her, falling into a baby position as he cradled her, “hi baby. My cute, fluffy, prickly baby,” he said in a childish voice, feeling the judgment oozing out of his pet.

Jonah came home just as Leo was starting to get restless, moving around with nothing to do since he hadn’t planned to have free time.

“Hi!” Jon jumped as he saw Leo sprawled on the couch, already all dressed for the night, with JD getting her fur all over his fancy buttoned up shirt, since she was curled up on his stomach, “you’re home early, I was hoping- I was thinking you’d-”

Leo lifted up his head from the couch cushion, eyebrows raised at Jon’s uncharacteristic fumbling of words, “hoping I was gone?”

“Don’t say it like that,” Jonah scoffed, neatly tucking away his shoes and circling the couch in order to look at him, “don’t you look nice.”

“Thank you,” Leo grinned, lazily scratching JD’s head, “my boss gave me the last two hours of my day off, but uh… I had nothing to do, so I’ve been here, bothering JD.”

“She looks super bothered,” Jonah rolled his eyes, as their spotted cat was purring, rolled up on herself like a snake, on top of Leo, “well, I was planning on leaving this on top of the bed with a letter that said how much I love you and how incredibly successful and attentive and loving I think you are and how I wanna wake up next to you for the rest of my days, but since you’re here…” Jon sat at the edge of the couch, handing him a large silver wrapped box, “it’s nothing flashy, but you’re a lawyer, so I think I’m allowed-”

Leo raised a hand to shut him up, removing the lid of the box and then letting out a whistle, while JD got up to sniff at the wrapping paper, “this is stunning… You got my name engraved?”

“Stamped,” Jonah corrected, as Leo pulled out the dark leather case from the box, eyebrows raised at the marking that said Mr. Leo Wagner - Juris Doctorate, “I left some space there for the hyphenated Banks, if you make up your mind about it…” 

Leo’s cheeks hurt from smiling, “I love it. I’m gonna use it every damn day… And I’m considering the Banks, I promise,” he leaned in to grab Jon’s shirt, pulling him for a kiss, “I love it, thank you.”

“I love you,” Jon shrugged, thumb pushing slightly on Leo’s chin, “I’m gonna shower and we can go- Stop letting JD cuddle when you’re dressed up, bloody hell, Leo.”

“She’s cute!” Leo cried out as Jon got up from the couch and rushed out. He was still completely enchanted by his new case. There were fancy instructions of use and a bottle of leather conditioner in the box, as well as a life-long warranty that made him snort. 

As they made it to the restaurant, Leo’s stomach was starting to hurt from hunger. Even though he had had his mini cake in the office, three hours had passed and he was a big guy, just that wasn’t even remotely enough to sustain him. 

Bella, Luke and Wendy were already inside and Leo rushed to them. The couple had literally just gotten back from their honeymoon three days ago and they hadn’t had a chance to meet yet. 

“C’mere, blondie,” Bella pulled on the collar of his shirt, pulling him into a tight hug, “congratulations, Leo.” 

Leo melted into the hug, wrapping his arms around her and taking Bella’s feet off the ground, tipping his body back. 

They were already a bottle of wine in — not that much, considering there were five of them — when Vince entered the restaurant. 

“I’m so so sorry,” Vince cried out, stripping his biker jacket and throwing it to Luke, “there was a huge tree in the road and no one could get through –  it’s not important – Give me a hug!” Vin practically manhandled Leo out of his chair and the blonde let out a squeak at the ribs crushing hug, “happy birthday, kiddo.”

“I-Can’t. Breathe,” Leo gasped, making Vince chuckle and drop him. Leo dizzily staggered back, practically falling into his seat. 

Conversation went on easily after that. Leo retold that evening’s events, not hiding how proud and happy he was that his boss had joined in the celebration, and Wendy had a million tales to share about the fifty different things she was doing. Luke and Bella couldn’t shut up about the Maldives, still grossly all over each other despite spending nearly a month away with no one but each other’s company. 

Jonah brought up Angie’s proposition while they went through the second main dish – lobster — and Luke shrugged, “I think it’s a brilliant idea.”

“Of course you do, you don’t work,” Jonah wrinkled his nose, causing Luke to glare at him and Leo to snort, continuing to eat his food. 

“I’ll have you know I actually got a job,” Lucas shrugged, as if those weren’t big news and didn’t mean a lot, considering how much of his mental health deteriorating was tied to his career path or lack of one.

“What’s the job?!” Vince practically rattled him and Luke chuckled, pushing his hands away.

“I’m a charity fundraiser,” Lucas was almost beaming with how happy he was and Bella threw an arm around his shoulders, planting a big lipstick-red kiss on his cheek, “I’m not gonna take credit for this, it was actually a culmination of my therapist asking me to get a couple vocational therapy sessions, my beautiful wife telling me to stop sulking about being rich, and me finally using my head.”

“Whatever does that mean?” Leo asked, leaning back on his chair. His stomach was stuffed with food and there was still dessert to go. He fidgeted on his seat, wishing he could rub his belly or loosen up his belt, but it would be bad form in an upscale place such as this. 

“Well, I have the political connections thanks to my mom, I have the glamorous connections thanks to my dad, but I never wanted to do anything with those. They always felt like a burden,” Luke blushed, “but that was silly. There’s people who’d kill to be able to get things as easily as I can, so I realized I can use these connections for good-”

“By making rich people give away their money,” Vince chuckled, clicking his glass with Bella and the ginger nodded almost smugly. 

“It’s not just that,” Luke whined, but he didn’t seem offended, “you actually need to know laws, but lucky me, I’m a Poli Sci major… And I happen to be really good at leading teams and bossing people.”

“We already knew that, Captain,” Leo winked at Luke, leaning to his side and half resting against Jonah, as the conversation continued, Wendy was full of questions about Luke’s new position, even after him saying he was not in charge of anything, but working under a guy. She had that ambitious little sparkle in her eye that often found a twin in Jonah’s. 

Not this time, tonight Jon was too busy saving all of his heart eyes for Leo. He leaned in, pressing his nose to the blonde’s temple and smiling, “enjoying yourself?”

“Uh-hum,” Leo nodded, biting down a grimace as his stomach cramped. Maybe he had overdone it… He just needed a moment, Leo thought, breathing through it and glaring in disgust to his empty plate. He really shouldn’t have cleared the plate. 

Probably noticing his grimace, a waiter quickly came to retrieve all the plates, then hung around as they chatted about dessert. Leo felt a wave of revulsion at the thought of eating another bite. His tummy was packed and he could feel a lump in his throat. 

He coughed lightly against his fist and squeezed Jon’s knee, “order me a water? I gotta go to the bathroom.”

“Of course,” Jon nodded, still lazily studying the menu and letting out a chuckle as Wendy pulled her chair closer to him, impromptu giving him advice on what to pick.

Leo circled the table, when he passed by the guys, Vince darted out a hand in a teasing manner, giving his back a pat. 

It wouldn’t have mattered on any other day, but stuffed as he was, the little friendly pat — that was a bit rough, given Vince never seemed to have understood he was not the size of a kitten — caused a sick burp to come up.

It fizzled out in his throat, but brought with it the taste of his dinner, causing Leo to shudder. He burst into the men’s room and caught a glimpse of his face. 

The wine had done a decent job at masking his paleness, because despite the fact he had turned belly-fish white in the last couple of minutes, the alcohol still caused the top of his cheeks to be a starkling pink. 

He leaned over the sink, splashing his face with water and taking some soothing breaths. The hunched over position caused his stomach to slosh dangerously and Leo let out yet another little burp under his breath, glancing at the door nervously as he touched his belly. 

Deciding he didn’t want to risk getting walked on by one of his friends, Leo stumbled to the private stalls and locked the door. He sat on the toilet instead of leaning over it like his belly was begging him to, then spread his legs out and undid his belt.

The relief was instantaneous and Leo all but melted as the nausea eased up. He planted a hand on his stomach, tugging up his black button up, and scrunched up his face as he looked at his belly. His abs were a far cry from the morning, now his stomach was taut and stretched out, gurgling non stop. 

It wasn’t something they’d be able to hear over the chatting and the soft piano music in the restaurant, but in the empty bathroom he could hear it clearly. Leo groaned, planting the heel of his hand to his tummy and pressing in little circles.

The belly rub wasn’t quite successful and nowhere near as nice as Jonah’s were, but at least it managed to bring up yet another breathy burp- He lurched forward with a much bigger one, that nearly morphed into a retch. Leo slapped a hand over his mouth, shocked and breathing hard, trying to understand if his stomach was going to reject his dinner.

Instead, the near gag seemed to have calmed things down a bit. He carefully removed his hand from his lips, wiping the clammy sweat from his upper lip and breathing out. That was close.

Figuring he had been gone long enough, Leo begrudgingly got up, closing his belt once more and tucking his shirt in. He splashed his face with some more cold water and took a breath, forcing himself to get out of the bathroom.

The minute he walked out, a hand was planted over his eyes and everything went dark. Leo let out a startled squeak, which morphed into a hiccup and Jonah laughed at the noise, kissing his cheek.

“Relax,” he whispered in his ear, guiding Leo to walk forward, blindly, “happy birthday, baby.” 

He lowered his hand and Leo realized Jon had walked him back to their table. Now their friends were standing and there was a large cake in the middle of the table, with candles sticking out and already alight. 

Just the sight of it made his stomach churn, but Leo wasn’t lying when he smiled. The effort his friends had gone through to get him the perfect cake mattered much more than his bellyache and he shoved it to the back of his mind, grinning like crazy as they started to chorus in the happy birthday song.

Leo’s cheek turned a deep red as he noticed other strangers looking at their table, some even joining the singing. He turned his head, hiding it on Jonah’s shoulder and his fiance smiled, squeezing him closer as they finished up the song and Leo leaned to blow out the candles. 

He got pulled in yet another round of hugs and finally Leo fell back down on his seat, on the opposite side of the table. The brief truce he had earned from his tummy back in the bathroom was broken and he was hiccuping, causing Vince to giggle as he let out a little squeaky-toy noise. 

“That’s the cutest thing I’ve ever heard,” Vin chuckled, pushing a plate with a slice of cake his way and then passing Jonah another one, “dig in, kiddo, it’s your favorite. Chocolate on chocolate on chocolate.”

Sounded like hell, Leo thought with a small grimace, but then his stomach sank as he heard Vince’s next words, “my mom was appalled she shouldn’t put in any fruit.” 

“Your mom- Ma made my cake?” Leo asked, both moved and completely distraught as he realized there was no way he could avoid eating now.

“Sorry guys, there was a huge tree on the road,” Wendy mimicked her boyfriend’s excuse from before, forcing a deep voice, “he was late because it was a whole logistic nightmare to bring the cake from Doveport, but Ma insisted, you’re like… Her favorite.”

Luke scoffed, “which is very unfair, I’d just like to point it out,” he said in a teasing way, “I’m supposed to be the favorite.”

“Shut up, Luke,” Bella chuckled, shushing him with a little kiss and stealing a piece of his slice of cake, even though she had her own.

Leo eyed the cake with disgust, nodding and forcing a smile. His mouth watered at the thought of pushing any more sweetness in his tummy, but he ignored it, grabbing the fork. 

Jonah was scratching his back with one hand, continuing to eat and humming in agreement to the compliments about Ma’s cooking and the fact Leo was her favorite out of Vince’s friends. He was blissfully unaware of the turmoil his boyfriend was in and barely registered as Leo pushed half of his slice on his plate, giving up halfway through.

He couldn’t even swallow what was currently in his mouth. Leo tried gulping it down, but his throat was refusing to cooperate. He hiccuped again and this time he couldn’t help but groan, as liquid rocketed up his throat. 

“I’m gonna get the bill,” Jonah whispered, squeezing his nape and getting up, beating Luke to it. 

Leo groaned, barely trying to hide how shitty he was feeling. His friends were all getting up and then Vince circled the table, grinning, “are you drunk, kiddo? That was almost nothing compared to what I’ve seen you drink-”

“No-” he finally managed to gulp down the chocolate mess in his mouth and felt cold sweat break out on his back, his stomach immediately rejecting it, “ate- ate- HIC!- Fuck, too much…”

Vince chuckled, grabbing his arm, “Okay, let’s go outside for some air. C’mon-” 

He gently shoved Leo forward and they walked out of the restaurant, Leo continuing to hiccup. 

The cool air was nice, but Leo knew he was past the point where a breeze could help. He cupped his mouth, muffling yet another little burp and groaning as a hiccup shook him once more, causing his stomach to clench. 

“Shit- Vince,” Leo grabbed his friend’s arm, gulping down nervously and trying to communicate he was gonna puke-

“BOO!” Wendy jumped on him and Leo lost his weak hold on his stomach. He let out a choking noise and folded in half, puking all over the patch of sidewalk and Wendy’s pink and green heels. 

It was so violent that Leo felt dizzy. His eyes stung with humiliation and his nose with the acid that tickled it. He stayed bent down, unable to straighten up not only because he was so embarrassed, but because his belly felt far from settled.

He closed his eyes, letting out a whimper, and then felt a hand in the middle of his back, rubbing up and down. Too rough to be Jonah’s. 

“What the hell, Leo?” Wendy groaned, while Luke said, “Wen, chill out,” and helped him straighten up. He was the one who had stepped closer. Vince and Bella looked equally shocked, Bella was the one carrying the box with the rest of his cake and she was clutching it to her chest. 

“Sorry-” Leo groaned, feeling his whole face burn and his throat close up, now with tears, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry-”

“It’s fine,” Wendy scoffed, as Vince grabbed her by her armpits and helped her slide out of her shoes without having to touch the chocolate vomit covering them, “god, this is gross…”

“Wendy,” Luke stressed, squeezing Leo’s shoulder, “what’s wrong, Leo?”

“Sorry,” he groaned again, sniffling pitifully, “I just- I just had so much to eat and then Wendy startled me and- Why did you startle me?!”

“Because you were hiccuping!” Wendy scoffed, with a disgusted frown on, using Bella’s shoulder to steady herself as she tiptoed away from the mess. Vince seemed to have gotten over the shock and only looked amused, snorting at his girlfriend’s answer, “I was trying to help!”

“Amazing,” Jonah said, half amused, half annoyed, jumping down the last steps and joining them outside, “Leo, are you okay?”

“I wanna die,” Leo groaned, but at least the nausea had calmed down a little. Not fully, he still felt stuffed and his stomach was still churning, but he no longer felt like he was going to throw up right at that minute… 

“You’re fine, Wendy will live,” Jonah rolled his eyes at Wendy’s little huff, but she did sigh and nod.

“Just because it’s your birthday I won’t yell at you,” she said, then in a much kinder voice, “at least do you feel better?”

“Not really,” Leo admitted, leaning on Jonah’s touch and wanting to crawl up somewhere dark and die. More people were leaving the restaurant and he wanted to hide away from their eyes, feeling like everyone knew… His stomach churned and he planted a hand on it, grimacing, “can we go home?”

Jon frowned, touching his face lightly, subtly checking for any heat, then nodded when he felt none, “yeah, of course. You guys can keep the cake, I don’t think anyone is going to eat it at home,” his voice had a slightly humorous tone and Leo blushed, but just the thought of the chocolate cake made his belly gurgle.

He groaned, “don’t even talk about it,” Leo wrapped an arm around his middle, squeezing his eyes shut as the queasiness started to come back. Luke thumped on his back in a sympathetic manner. 

“Feel better, kiddo,” he smiled, “and happy birthday.”

Leo whined as the rest of their friends did the same, side stepping the mess to tell him goodbye, Wendy being the last one. 

She squeezed his arm, “happy birthday, Leo,” her tone was teasing, “at least the hiccups stopped?”

“God, go away,” Leo groaned, muffling a burp in his hand and she grinned, kissing Jonah’s cheek. 

“You owe me a new pair of Jimmy Choo’s” Wendy warned him, waving and running to where Vince was waiting for her on his bike. 

Leo let out a sigh, falling against Jonah and groaning when his fiance let out a little chuckle at his expense. “What the fuck is a Jimmy Choo?” Leo asked, his voice muffled by Jon’s shirt, allowing the other man to pull him back to the car.

[arcriotwrites]

~𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓣𝓻𝓾𝓽𝓱~

Bucky Barnes x Reader

WARNINGS: Angst and discussion of Bucky's/Reader's trauma, descriptions of death, themes of depression, swearing

Tags:

#buckybarnes #thewintersoldier #death #trauma #fanfic #xreader #tangst #revival #first post #love #mypoorbaby:( #Ijustwannahughim

Author’s Note:

This is my first post to this account! I haven’t written this type of stuff in a while so I apologize if I am a bit rusty. I love Bucky so much and wanna hug him so bad so I wrote about doing that to ease my delusions. I hope you enjoy! (Please ignore the grammar errors, it is 11:30pm when I am posting this)

Word Count: 2.1K

Your eyes can't seem to tear away from the security monitor, your gaze specifically on the silver glint you can see from the dim desk light he sits at. You lean back in your chair, letting out a deep sigh, your hand running over your face.

He shouldn't be allowed to do this. To just forget.

Your thoughts seem to drift as you feel frustration rake your body, your mind starting to cloud in anger. He was a criminal, an assassin, a killer and yet Shield just lets him run around like a commoner. Your anger seems to drift into logical thinking as it often did, your memory flipping back to all of the files you read on The Winter Soldier. After the corruption of Shield and the publication of Hydra's files due to The Black Widow during the destruction of Project Insight, you found yourself spending many late nights pouring yourself over the files on The Winter Soldier. Your colleagues didn't like to talk about him whenever you brought him up, almost treating him as if he's Bloody Mary, like saying his name would summon him. Though despite what he has done and the destruction he has caused, he always intrigued you. So much so you became his personal watcher. Security cameras and microphones were put up in his apartment before he relocated himself their permanently, making it so that his every move was watched without his knowledge.

You feel yourself drift back to reality, not knowing when you decided to get up from your desk. You find yourself walking out of the newly built Shield headquarters, turning to look at the building as you exit the doors. After the corruption, they immediately started rebuilding.

Time doesn't stop for them I guess.

The thought passes through your mind as you slide into your car, dropping your computer bag into the bag seat with a soft thud. You let out a deep sigh as you sit there, debating whether you were really going to do this or not. As you turn the key, the car engine roaring to life, you route your GPS to a certain Brooklyn apartment.

Pulling up to the building felt so strange. Sure you had driven by before and watched it nearly 24/7 but parking your car outside seemed like a bad idea. A shiver runs down your spine as anxiety settles in your stomach, feeling as though your heart jumped to your throat. You release a deep breath as you step out of your car, wrapping the jacket you had on around you tighter. As you approach the main entrance, your hands shake when reaching for the brass door handle.

When you enter the building, it was exactly as you expected. Single apartments on either side of you dictated by A and B, a staircase in the middle of the hallway that went up 5 floors, even the mirror hanging above the small table in the main hall seemed to be exactly where you expected it. The familiarity of the building brings a small sense of comfort to you it fully sinks in what you are about to do. Your footsteps seem to echo as you climb the stairs to the 4th floor, knowing he resided in apartment 4B. When you reach the 4th floor, you can feel the anxiety creeping up again, feeling as though you were going to be sick. You quickly take note of your exit routes before walking to the door with the brass plaque on it that read '4B'.

You take a deep breath before knocking against the wooden door, swallowing hard as you try to find what to say.

"Mr.Barnes? I um- I know you don't like visitors especially if it is unannounced but I just- I feel like we need to talk."

You speak, your voice coming out softer than you had wanted it, making you wonder whether he even heard you. You can hear his heavy footsteps approaching the door and stop just as he reaches it. After a few seconds of silence, you clear your throat.

"I'm going to be honest with you. I came here to try and figure out what happened. I have been angry for so long and I'm positive my anger is based in confusion and so I came looking for answers. I have been trying to figure it out on my own but it's never a good enough answer, you are my last resort."

Your voice slowly becomes a whisper as you ramble, not noticing just how much you were saying until it was already said. You hear a deep sigh on the other side of the door. When he speaks his voice comes out gruff and raspy, as though he hadn't spoken in years.

"You with Shield?"

His question has you sighing in defeat, expecting this to be the end of the conversation as you respond.

"I am but they aren’t aware that I am here right now. I came here strictly on my own business and accord."

Your response is hopeful as if trying to prove to him that he isn't your assignment. That he isn't your mission. You hear his footsteps and then the door of the lock squeaking open. The sound of the doorknob turning causes you to swallow hard, understanding that you were about to walk into his domain.

As he opens the door, your eyes fall to him, your lips parting slightly in shock. You had expected to see a man full fo hatred, covered in wounds and bruises. You had expected to see a killer open that door. Yet standing in front of you was a man. His hair was brown and to his shoulders, dark circles rested beneath his crystal blue eyes, a black hat was placed on his head, shadowing his face partially. He looked tired, maybe even burnt out. His appearance made you almost feel bad for him. You notice a glove covering his left hand, that same hand motions for you to come inside and for some reason, you do.

As you step inside, you look around the apartment. Newspaper covers the windows, the floor was worn, a small kitchen to your right and a mattress on the floor to your right, no sheets on it. You would’ve thought Hydra would set up their best soldier better before they got taken down. He stands next to the kitchen counter, examining you. As your gaze falls back to him, a shiver runs down your spine at the look in his eyes. It wasn’t predatory or dangerous, his eyes were full of curiosity and nervousness.

“You wanted to talk?” He asks, clearing his throat as if trying to remind you why you were here. Your attention snaps back to the task at hand.

“Yes. I um- I…” You trail off, feeling words die in your throat. How could you explain this to him without sounding weird?

“I have looked over your files, I know your history.” You notice him tense up as you speak, his jaw clenching and his posture straightening slightly. You continue;

“I’m not here to hurt you or pry too much but there are so many questions I have that I can’t get answers to except from you. I um- I had a brother. His name was Cody. He was the funniest guy you’d ever meet, he would tell stupid dad jokes and make sure everyone had a good time everywhere he went.” A dry laugh escapes your throat as you feel your chest tighten, the words coming to you easier now as you speak about someone so close to you. “He went to towns outside of what was Sokovia to help build hospitals after the Avengers destroyed the country. I went to visit him for the summer, taking time off work to go help him do this amazing service. When I got there, his project advisor said he hadn’t seen him so I went looking for him in the hospital he was working on at the time. I found him in the basement, shot in the chest and once in the back of the head. He was slouched against the wall opposite the door, sitting in his own blood. His eyes were still open…” As you describe the scene you had walked into, the memory floods back like a dam breaking. Tears well up in your eyes as your gaze drops to the floor, not wanting him to see you this emotionally vulnerable. You notice his stance has relaxed, his face dropping as you speak. He knows what’s coming, waiting for you to say it.

“He was assassinated by The Winter Soldier. The shots were so precise, I knew that’s who it had to be. No one would make it two clean shots. I knew how Hydra trained their soldiers. I contacted Shield to find out if my brother was in Hydra’s files and if I could bypass the encryption to see them. I was able to. He was listed as a false suspect.” The words choke out, your voice cracking as a son takes your body, placing a hand on the counter in front of you to hold yourself up.

“He wasn’t even a threat, Hydra misidentified him as their next target. He was killed for no fucking reason. He didn’t deserve that. He was doing such good work, hell he was doing better work than I could ever do at Shield.” You scoff out the last sentence, sniffle and wiping your face with your sleeve. Your gaze rises to the ceiling, as if trying to get the tears to stop. Your lips quiver as you try to calm down, seemingly unable to stop the cries that make your whole body quiver. You don't want to look at him, knowing you would fully breakdown, your knees threatening to give out. You hear him clear his throat, the sound coming out like choking. You blink quickly, bringing your hand up and wiping your eyes with your jacket sleeve. You sniffle, trying desperately to gather yourself before continuing.

"I'm not here to try and condemn you, I simply just want answers..." You hesitate as you speak, your voice coming out broken and soft, your tone shifting to be almost pleading with him. You slowly lift your gaze from the floor, your eyes landing on him. He stands on the opposite side of the counter from you, his hands resting on the wooden top. His head is bowed, his hair falling like a curtain in front of his face. You take a few deep breaths as you try to compose yourself. When you speak, your voice comes out more even;

"I just want to know if you remember him."

You watch as he slowly lifts his head. His voice comes out soft, barely above a whisper.

"I remember them all. It was like I was screaming to get out but I couldn't. It's like I was a witness to my own crimes that I couldn't stop." His voice breaks as he speaks. You notice the tears that fall down his cheeks, his eyes seeming to glaze over in pure grief. In those few sentences, your entire perspective shatters. The man before you wasn't a killer, Hydra made him that way. They scrambled his brain and controlled him like robot. He was nothing but a tool for them. You watch as he breaks down, beginning to pace circles in the small kitchen, trying to control his breathing. Your breathing begins to pick up and without thinking, you walk around to the other side of the counter, now invading his space even further.

"I'm so sorry..." He chokes out, his voice hoarse as he looks at you, his cheeks wet with tears. Almost like an instinct you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in to a tight embrace. Sobs rake his body as he practically collapses into you. You had been so stuck in your own grief and anger that you hadn't stopped to think about all that he has dealt with. Sure, his trauma doesn't diminish the loss he caused you as The Winter Soldier, but it gave you a new perspective as to how broken he is about it too. You find yourself running your fingers through his hair trying to soothe him. Tears run down your cheeks as you stand there, holding the shattered man in your arms. You feel his metal arm wrap around the small of your back, his other one wrapping around your shoulders, trying to pull you closer to him. His face is buried into your shoulder as you speak, your voice just above a whisper;

"I forgive you."

[moonlilymusings]

warnings: !MDNI! fem!reader, he calls us princess a lot i was fighting the urge to delete all that, no nsfw, more fatui show up, pantalone is treated unfairly ,, wc: 2539 this is the second part to the little fic i wrote in 22… mostly posting here to archive it but i was very proud of myself at the time.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

The workday went by too slowly, and it didn't help that you couldn't focus on a single task. You found yourself repeatedly assaulting your bottom lip out of nervousness, a habit you developed at a young age. Your poor little lip has really been through it.

Finally, the alarm rang throughout the office, and like clockwork, your coworkers stood and began filing out while you began fiddling with the little toys you kept at your desk. There was one bobblehead you had that was your favorite. It was a character from a video game you played obsessively throughout your teenage years that you no longer had time for. Still, the presence of the little character brought great comfort, especially when feeling lonely.

You pushed the thoughts aside when you spotted a certain head of ginger hair approach you from behind in the reflection of your sleeping monitor. You turned around in your seat to find Ajax inches away with his hand held up as if he were about to try and scare you. You squinted at him.

"Ah, you're no fun," he pretended to pout. His face was extremely close to yours. Your eyes crossed as you tried to count the freckles on his nose.

"Hey!" he said, snapping his fingers. "You'll have plenty of time to stare later-" he stopped to appreciate how red your face quickly became. "Once we get back to my place." His lips stretched into his signature smirk as he offered you a hand to stand with. You wanted to push him away. Refuse his hand and claim yourself an independent woman, but once again, you fell for Ajax's charms, and you placed your smaller hand against his palm. Instead of pulling you up like you expected, he took your hand and turned it over, allowing him to trace his fingers against your wrist, sliding them underneath the sleeve of your shirt and gently tugging at the material.

"Ajax!" You pulled your hand away but not far enough that you broke contact. If you believed in magic, you'd think the man had the power of lightning by the way he sent jolts through your body with such a simple touch. You thought he must have felt it, too, because of the way he visibly shook. Little did you know it was just because of the way you said his name.

"We should get going, princess." With his hand still wrapped around your own, Ajax quickly tugged you up and led you to the elevators.

The ride to his apartment was filled with you trying to guess what dish he would be serving, which was really just you listing off any Snezhnayan word you happened to know.

"Alright, alright," the ginger waved his hand, urging you to stop coming up with new words that sounded vaguely Snezhnayan. "In all seriousness, I do have to warn you."

Your smile faltered at the sudden seriousness in his voice, and you nodded to show that you were paying attention.

"My roommate will be there tonight, which shouldn't be a problem as long as he stays in his room as promised." Ajax sighed and took one of your hands in his. "So if he doesn't keep his promise and makes you uncomfortable in any way, tell me. We'll change dinner plans, and I can cook for you another time."

You nodded your head slowly, suddenly back to your initial nervousness.

Ajax's apartment was bigger than you expected- much bigger than someone with his paycheck could afford. But you weren't going to question that. Not when he ushers you in so sweetly, taking off your jacket and telling you to get comfortable.

A chair is pushed against your knees until you stumbled backward, and you're forced to sit down.

"What are you doing?"

Ajax shoved a glass of wine into your hands. "You're gonna sit back and relax while I make you an amazing meal!"

You sipped your glass as elegantly as you could muster as he danced around the kitchen, throwing food items into a pot and stirring as he went.

"Do you want music?" He asked, turning around, wiping his hands on the apron draped around his body. Before you could answer, he was wandering into a different room, coming back with a handheld speaker. He handed you his phone with a smile and a wink. "You can pick the music, girlie."

With this newfound sense of power, you set the glass aside and searched through his saved music to get a feel for his taste. You quietly laughed when you saw a few songs that surprised you, such as ABBA's entire career for one. So, experimentally you played one of their songs. Dancing Queen, of course. Who could resist Dancing Queen? Definitely not Ajax.

As soon as the speaker picked up, his back went ridged. He threw you a smile that could only be described as adorable and began humming to himself. With a lid on the pot, Ajax turns around and directs his gaze at you, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. You took a sip of your wine, batting your eyes playfully as he approached you and held out his hands.

You took his hands and stood up before he could tease you further. "What's this?"

Ajax answered by spinning you until you faced him again. He gracefully guided you around the kitchen; even if you didn't dance well, he left no room for you to interpret. Every move you made was directed and controlled by his strong arms.

Too quickly, the song was over, and you gripped his arms, ready to go again. But, before the next song could begin playing, you were joined by who you could only assume was his roommate. He was not at all as intimidating as you pictured him. He was short. His face was round, and his hair framed his face making him appear more like a child than someone old enough to move out. That was until your eyes met, and the look he gave you was cold enough to send chills down your spine.

"Dude, what's the deal?" Ajax asked as he turned the music down.

"I was hungry." Said his roommate, who pushed between the two of you to reach for some cereal on a low shelf.

"You didn't think to eat before I invited her over?"

"Oops."

Ajax ran his fingers through his hair and waved his hand as he introduced the two of you.

"It's nice to meet you, Kunikuzushi." You were lying. He made you uncomfortable as he watched you through heavy eyes while pouring the dry cereal.

The boy huffed at you in reply, then turned to face Ajax. "So this is who you've been blowing your allowance on?"

Ajax's face went red, and in an instant, he was ushering his roommate out of the kitchen before he could even pour his milk.

When he returned, you approached him, smoothing the fabric of his shirt to try to calm him down. "What was that about an allowance?" You asked quietly, your curiosity getting the best of you.

Ajax only smiled sheepishly as his arms encircled your torso. "No need to worry about that. He's just trying to embarrass me. That's all."

That night he took you home. The meal he made for you was new and unlike anything else you've ever had. It was a fantastic dinner paired with who you were sharing it. Especially since Kunikuzushi didn't show after his first appearance.

"I think since you got to see my place tonight, I should get to see yours," Ajax stated as he trailed after you, his hand wrapped around your own.

"It's not much," your keys jingled as you unlocked the door to your apartment. You swung it open and led your friend inside, tossing your bag onto the nearest surface.

Ajax kicked the door closed and looked around with curious eyes. His attention was first drawn to the fish tank illuminated by the window that overlooked the city streets. It held a few tetras that you bought to feel a little less lonely.

"Do they have names?"

"Of course."

After telling him their names, his focus shifted to your tv and gaming console, then to the state of your kitchen (it hardly had any food in it, much to his disappointment), and that was when he turned to you with a familiar mischievous grin.

"Do I get a bedroom tour?"

You knew it was coming, and yet, it still embarrassed you. "No, you don't, and now that I've thought about I think you should get home!"

Ajax laughed as you began pushing him out the door, and he followed along until he reached it.

"You do have a nice place, in all seriousness."

"As if." Your apartment somehow felt tinier than ever before after being in Ajax's. The only redeeming element was that you had a view of the road and were on a less populated floor.

"You're right," he laughed. "It's still not good enough for a princess."

You pushed him out of your apartment before he could embarrass you anymore. Due to your size difference, he could have easily turned the tables on you. He thought about how easy it would be to pick you up just to fluster you more. He was lost in his self-indulgent thoughts when he saw something from the corner of his eye.

You finally got him mostly out of your apartment when Ajax went utterly rigid. You gave him a test push and found that he didn't budge an inch. You realized that he was totally letting you bully him out, but you also saw who he was looking at. Your neighbor.

"You two are up late, aren't you?" Pantalone stated as he unlocked the door to his apartment.

"Don't worry!" You said. "My friend was just leaving."

"Ajax, how are you doing?" Your neighbor asked.

You blinked in confusion. Did he just call...?

"Ajax?" You asked, looking up at the man you still had your hands on. Ajax looked at the man before you with a tight jaw and eyes as cold as the land he hailed from.

"Yeah, actually, it's really late. Do you think I could stay over?" Ajax replied without breaking eye contact with Pantalone.

Your neighbor huffed amusedly and walked into his apartment. "Try not to be so loud, you kids."

You flushed red, but before you could ask any more questions, Ajax pushed you back inside, shutting and locking the door behind the two of you. "How long has he lived there?"

"What do you mean- I don't understand."

He turned around and held you by your shoulders, making you feel oh so small. "How long has he lived next to you?"

"Ajax," you said with a shakey voice. "You're scaring me."

He immediately let you go, the tension in the air shifting to a more awkward than frantic feeling. You took him by the hand and carefully led him to sit on the couch.

"He hasn't been living there for very long. Probably about two months- how do you two know each other?"

Ajax rubbed his face with the hand you weren't holding and rubbing soothing circles into it. His eyebrows were knit in frustration as he seemingly lost an internal debate.

"I wanted to keep you away from this side of my life, but it appears I can't have that."

"Just tell me, Ajax, it can't be that bad."

He looked up at you with worry in his eyes. "I'm in a gang."

"That's.. not so bad."

"The Fatui."

"Oh."

You suddenly became aware of how close the two of you were. The first question that ran through your mind was why he was working an office job. The second was if he had killed anyone before. The Fatui was a well-known crime organization run by an unknown person who left her mark as "The Tsaritsa." They gave Sneznayans a bad name, and innocent people from that region were often accused of being a part of the Fatui.

The Fatui were so irrelevant to your life that you'd never blinked an eye when Ajax told you about his homeland or family. You'd never seriously given it any thought, not knowing where you were from anyways. It was just something in passing that you saw on the news or on the streets. Still, it does make sense now that you're thinking about it. The mysterious source of neverending money, his lavish apartment, the warnings when you meet his friends. It explained everything.

This man who sat before you, watching you think with wary blue eyes, had probably hurt so many people, probably killed people. But the hand you held in your own was vulnerable and sweaty, and it belonged to Ajax. And Ajax was the first person to ever give you a chance to be known by someone. He was your first and only best friend- whether or not he was in the Fatui. It wasn't like you were a cop or anything, and you've never been a super goody-two-shoes. Maybe that's why when he told you this, you decided to keep him around pretty quickly.

Your hand squeezed his, and the worry on his face softened. "It's ok, Ajax. I can't say that doesn't explain a lot, though." You laughed.

He let out a breath and instinctively leaned toward you, resting his forehead on your shoulder as you continued to play with his hands. "So what does this have to do with Regrator?"

Ajax groaned and slumped into you even more. "I think they sent him to watch you because you're close to me. I guess if I ever "get out of line," they can use you to straighten me out."

A chill ran down your spine at the thought. The newspapers had detailed descriptions of what the Fatui did to those who stood in its way, and you certainly didn't want to end up like them. Ajax pulled his head up and looked at you, his serious tone appearing suddenly. "I'd never let them hurt you. Ok?"

You nodded your head and leaned back into him. He welcomed you. "It's late." He said.

Nodding again, fatigue finally hit you as he wrapped his arms around you and gently lifted you up. With eyes struggling to stay open, Ajax wandered into your bedroom and placed you on your bed. He pulled your shoes off and tucked you in. "I'll be in the living room, alright?"

You whined and reached for him, hands finding purchase in the hem of his shirt. "Staaay."

His hands caught your wrists and moved to capture your palms, and he chuckled. "Alright, alright." He made his way to the other side and kicked off his shoes, laying next to you on top of the covers. You turned onto your side and watched him through heavy hanging eyelids. His fingers brushed your hair out of your eyes, and you sighed.

"You're a good friend, Ajax."

"I think we're past the friend title, princess."

He embarrassed you, even in your tired state, but you fell asleep with your cheek in his palm, feeling safer than ever.

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

[phoenixyfriend]

Have another post I wrote up seven years ago and never actually shared. Have not read through it again, but it’s a snapshot of what/how I was thinking about the ways in which I write different POVs in Voltron Fic. I think it stayed unposted because I hadn’t added Hunk or Coran yet, and now I never will.

Pidge processes a lot of details, very visual, tries to break down what she's seeing as she sees it. As new details come up, others get packed away in the back of her mind to get taken apart later when she has more time. When she’s thinking, she’s still fairly visual, but mostly in the sense of mental diagrams and such. She’s pretty good at visualization.

Lance tends to get emotions and motions, to put it simply, and focuses inwards on his own processing of his emotions and shit when panicking. He notices people and how they feel and act before anything else; he’s more likely to be question why a person is feeling a certain way than try to analyze the actual things they’re saying while they lash out. While he does take in visual elements, he files the information away as concepts rather than actually remembering how things looked, and doesn’t really remember details that he doesn’t take note of directly.

Keith is a little more blunt, I guess? I'm not sure how to put it, but he kind of takes in information and does minimal on-the-spot ongoing processing in favor of immediate reactions and then talking things through with people (Shiro and Pidge) afterwards. The Thing is a Thing, and will remain as such until he has a chance to think about it in private later. When he does have a chance to think about it, his thoughts tend to spiral; he treads over the same spots over and over, but eventually narrows in on a conclusion.

Shiro is... tense, I guess? I haven't done a lot of writing from his perspective (some NaA and the Hamilton thing), but it's a lot of long-term consequences and juggling of ethical and moral considerations while he tries to figure out the best course of action. It means that he ends up over-processing some things and under-processing others, so he misses some stuff that he really should have noticed, and puts more importance than necessary on things that aren't quite as important.

Allura's a lot like Shiro, but a little more.. alien, I guess? She's distanced, too. Everything comes through a lens of "these are not my people, I need to consider that" when she remembers, and frustration when she doesn't.

[aoishiitake]

Before Us - Kanade x Mafuyu

Chapter 12: Warmth

note: Copy and pasting this from my wattpad. This was the first fanfiction I ever wrote (started 2022 or so). I know it's bad, you do not need to remind me. I'm posting this here because I want my writing backed up on as many platforms as possible. I write better now, I can assure you of that. Everything in brackets and bold is me commenting on my own shit writing lol. Thanks for reading if you do <3

divider's from this post/person

Kanade

Whose arm is this? It's so warm, I don't want it to go away. Maybe should I turn around and see who it is. My eyelids, they're so heavy I think I'm falling asleep... (L bozo can't stay up late)

(around morning time)

Woah, is it 10am right now or am I that sleepy?  I slowly open my eyes, about to reach out to grab my phone and check what time it is. Instead I am woken up by Mafuyu's face... again. Unlike some people, I will not make the same mistake twice. 

Oh but I could just, stay here, in Mafuyu's arms until I die.

NO EW THATS GROSS AND GAY I NEED TO TOUGHEN UP

Okay okay voice inside my head, I'll just turn around and grab my phone. I turn around and-

"WONDAHOY!!!"

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA" I screamed. At this point everyone had woken up, even the deep deep sleepers who are almost impossible to wake up. Except for Rui because of course he has noise cancelling headphones too.

"What. Was. That. Kanade." Ena complained removing her sleeping mask.  "Yeah dude you woke everyone up." Mizuki rubbed her eyes.

"Well it's because Emu SCREAMED wonderhoy in my face!" I argued.

"IM SORRY YOISAKI SAN!!" Emu apologised. "I JUST WANTED TO MAKE YOU SMILE!" She started crying. She couldn't stop apologizing. Almost immediately Nene started hugging her, then stared at me as if this was all my fault. Which I don't think it was but that doesn't matter right now. Because I must've woken up Maf-

"Can we just continue being half awake?" Mafuyu mumbled, cuddling up closer to me. I swear to god I could see Ena smirking so hard when Mafuyu did that.

And so everyone continued being on their phones, cuddling with the person next to them and/or something else.  I was gladly wrapping my arms around Mafuyu while scrolling on my phone. I could most definetly die at peace this way.

Mafuyu

How will I tell mom about this...

I love a girl a lot and now I'm doomed because that means I have to eventually accept that I'm not straight.  The longer I let myself collapse into Kanade's arms, the more I am sure that I'm a lesbian. Her hair smells unsurprisingly good. Smells a bit like cup noodles, but it reminds me of her so it's still a good smell. I can hear her fingers swiping up on her phone screen. I wonder what she's looking at.

I hear some sly footsteps, one- no, two people walking around. I think someone left the SEKAI...

I can't be bothered to check who it is.

Mizuki

Ena and I are sneaking out to get breakfast for everyone. I hope no one heard us, we we're trying really hard not to distract anyone. She grabbed my hand and lead me out of her home and into a nearby convenience store. 

"WOAH MIKI LOOK!!" Ena pointed to the refrigerated section. "THEY HAVE ONIGIRI!" she squealed. "Woahh it looks really good!" I responded to her. "Don't worry I will get you one."  I grabbed one and put it into the shopping bag. "AWWW THANK YOU!!!" She hugged me. "Anything for youuu" I laughed. 

We continued shopping, we decided to get some fruits, jam and pastries. You know, a Iittle something for everyone. Except for Rui because he hides everything in the world up his ass /j.

We walked back to my place to get back to the SEKAI and bring our friends breakfast. I stepped into my room, got a hold of Ena's hand and clicked on the file for the school SEKAI. And just like that we are in school SEKAI.

"Guys we got breakfast!!" I exclaimed. 

"EEEEEEK BREAKFAST! NENE THERE'S BREAKFAST!!" Emu squealed to Nene. "Yes yes I heard." She replied.

Kanade

I guess it's breakfast time now. Man I don't think I can get myself to wake Mafuyu up. I don't think I can get myself out of this position either. But then again I'm hungry and I also want Mafuyu to eat too so it is my duty. 

"Hi Mafuyu" I whispered. "It's time to wake up", I rubbed her back in circles. She tucked herself even more instead of waking up. "I don't wanna..", she mumbled.  Ena started smirking at me again, I swear she is so dead once she gets all cuddly with Mizuki.

"C'mon Mafuyu", I pushed her a little bit away from me so that I could see her face. "We need to have some breakfast man, especially you". I got up helping her up by holding her hand.  As we walked over to see what there was for breakfast her eyes swayed from how tired she was. You can't blame the girl, she just woke up. 

"Okay everyone! Attention please!!", Ena announced. "Please grab the food you want but don't over do it obviously. You can take everything except for..", she searched around the table for it. "Aha found it!" she grabbed the only onigiri on the table.  "Hey why does she get to have an onigiri??", Rui complained. "Rui, respectfully, shut up." Mizuki shot back at him. 

Everyone grabbed what they wanted to eat. I grabbed a banana, I made sure I got the freshest looking one. Along with that I took a croissant (QUASO). Mafuyu only took two apples. It was quite interesting to me, why she only took two apples. Why do I sound like an old british man holy crap I will never talk like that again.

"You must really like apples Mafuyu." I noted.  "Yeah I do, they're really good", she peeped. She was almost immediately in a better mood. We peacefully ate together. 

"Kanade" She said. "can I have a bite of your croissant?"

"Of course Yuki!" I answered. I held the croissant in front of her mouth for her to bite. Her teeth sank in the buttery croissant and bit a piece out.  

"Oooo Kanade whatcha doingggg", Ena giggled with Mizuki. I couldn't be bothered anymore honestly. They tease me as if they were the straightest people alive. Which uhm, no. they aren't that at all.

(later)

"Well guys I think everything looks cleaned up now so feel free to leave. Thank you all for coming to the party, it was a blast being with all of you!" Mizuki announced. I packed my things and left with Mafuyu.

Oh right

Where is she going to go now?

[stobinesque]

WIP Wednesday!

Tagged by @eriquin and @steves-strapcollection, thank you!!

THE RULES

In a reblog (or new post w/ rules attached), post up to five (5) filenames of your WIPs; not titles, file names.

Post a snippet from one of them. Snippet must be words you wrote in the last 7 days. We’re posting progress here. If you haven’t made any, go make some and come back to post!

After you’ve posted, people can send you an ask with one of your file names. You must then write 3 sentences in that file. If the filename is one you can’t share from (for example, an event fic), write 3 sentences on it anyway, and then 3 more on another to share.

That’s it! You can invite others to join in, or just post. If you tag me in your post, I will send you an ask request!

THE WIPS

Jeff is Steve's Bi Awakening AU (fwiw I already have two of these sitting in my inbox from a couple weeks ago)

wigwag [Steve's Big Gay Sex Adventure]

Wayfinder [S4 Fix-it, Lucas POV]

phryctoria bonus chapter 7 (marginalia and annotations of How To Have Sex in an Epidemic)

THE (no pressure) TAGS

@devondespresso @starryeyedjanai @xenon-demon @inairbinad @hellsfireclub @delta-piscium @steddielations @thefreakandthehair @skjachukson @steventhusiast -- and anyone else who wants to participate!

THE SNIPPET

uhhhh, I'm pretty sure most of the writing I've done in the past 7 days has already been shared in various asks (or my steddie microfic), so have a sneak peek at chapter 5 of phryctoria, which I spent a good chunk of today revising.

Robin yawns again, stretching her arms high above her head. “Absolutely worth it,” she says, sounding a bit smug.

Steve shakes his head, but can’t bite back the smile she brings to his face. He clicks back into a conscious awareness of their surroundings, and realizes they’re passing by Weathertop. (Try as he might to deny it, the kids’ names for locations around Hawkins have fixed themselves in his mind.) He pulls off and parks the beamer on the side of the road, circling around the front to pull Robin out of the passenger seat. “C’mon, Bobbin, we’ve got a hill to climb.”

Halfway up, Robin turns to him and starts flapping a hand against his chest. “Hey, hey! How’s that song go? The hills are alive, dah-da-dah daaah dah, you know?”

Steve smirks. “Aren’t your ears supposed to be little geniuses? Robs, the next lines are literally the title of the movie.”

“Pretty sure it was a musical first.”

“This does not actually help your case, you know that, right?”

“Whatever, dingus. Just tell me how the song goes.”

“You sure you wanna hear me sing?”

“Okay, you’ll notice how I didn’t say ‘sing how it goes for me,’ you could just tell me the words.”

“No, no, now you’re going to be subjected to the musical stylings of the Harrington family singers, because,” Steve leans into her space and starts singing, sickly sweet, “My heart wants to sing every soooong it hears.” His head is almost fully resting against Robin’s shoulder as he looks up at her with a shit eating grin.

“Oh, my god, get off me,” she says, shoving at him while she laughs.

He lets himself be pushed away, taking a couple of dramatic, stumbling steps away from her before righting himself and drifting back into her space. “You know the next lines have always been my favorite though?”

“Do you have the whole song memorized?!”

“...yeah?” Steve frowns at her. “Robs, it’s one of my favorite movies! I thought that’s why you asked!”

Robin shakes her head, looking at him a little dumbstruck. “Nope, I’m pretty sure I would have remembered that little Harrington factoid.”

“Well…yeah. My mom really loved it, so I guess I just watched it a lot growing up? Especially when my dad was out of town—before she started going on the trips with him—because then we could sing along.”

Robin opens her mouth to say something, before seeming to make the conscious decision not to approach the whole ‘you couldn’t sing along to the movie about not being allowed to sing?’ thing with a ten foot pole, and snapping her mouth shut again. “Huh.” She takes a couple more striding steps forward with a pensive look on her face. “So...how does the next part go?”

He smiles at her, and even without being able to see his own face he can tell that it’s radiant. “My heart…wants to beat like the wings of the birds that rise from the lake to the trees.” He looks at her, and he can feel the way his gaze has become just a little too intense.

“Birds, huh?” She knocks his shoulder with her own, a gentle smile on her face. “Yep. Always loved ‘em,” he says, his heart feeling a little gooey in his chest.

[ionlymadethissoicouldleaveanask]

This is my first time ever being tagged in something like this. It's very exciting.

How many works do you have on AO3?

Under my Brown_Coat profile I have 22, under Space_Dweeb 4.

(I made a separate account way back when because Space_Dweeb was my holdout from FFN, but when I decided that I wanted to just bite the bullet and start writing cute shippy stories I was afraid of associating it with my "serious" works. I know it's dumb. I lead a double life. I am a fraud and a charlatan.)

What's your total AO3 word count?

BC - 76,137 SD - 112,868

What fandoms do you write for?

Pretty much exclusively Halo. I wrote a story for the Illuminae Files a little while ago because I read that trilogy this spring and it changed the chemical balance of my brain and hasn't let me go since. I also write some for the Artemis Fowl fandom because by golly somebody is going to keep the Holly Short/Trouble Kelp tag alive!

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Promise - The only in-universe John/Cortana ship that I've ever written.

Serenity - A Halo/Firefly crossover in which Blue Team are made into space cowboys and I love it.

Halo: Homecoming (formerly titled Welcome Home) - My most bestest creation. The first actual story I ever wrote to completion.

Twenty-ish Days - A series of Halo one-shots as a summer follow up to my other story, Twelve Days (which was a series of one-shots counting down the twelve days of Christmas)

Take Care of Each Other - Another entry on the list of "Why This Dude Should Not Be Allowed To Name Things." Anyhow, it's - you guessed it - a series of one-shots. This time they are all focused on the Fred-104/Kelly-087 ship because I have shipped those two since I first found the Halo novels in middle school and I'll be deep in the cold, cold ground before I let that tag slip quietly into that good night.

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Comments are an uncomfortably large portion of my self-esteem, particularly as a writer of dimestore trash fics. I definitely respond to comments, because I'm desperate to keep people commenting.

What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I angle heavily toward the bright-and-happy side of things. Personally think that there's too much angst in the world without me adding to it.

Having said that, the last chapter of Twenty-ish Days dealt with some angst and some character death that I won't spoil here on the off-chance that someone may read this and feel inspired to go find out for themselves. Other than that... maybe Mister Zhordee? It's a Halo-fied retelling of the song Mr Shorty by Marty Robbins, which has a decent touch of angst to it I suppose.

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Again, I lean toward the happy endings naturally so this is kind of a tough one. In general though, I'd say my dumb college AU series The University of Northern South Carolina because every one of those has been happy.

Do you get hate on fics?

Not really. On some of the stuff I still bother to cross-post to FFN I have gotten some weird comments from people who didn't understand the universe I was building in my Halo/Firefly crossover, but other than that anyone who's bothered to leave a comment has been very pleasant.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Nope. I like to keep that level of intimacy just between my wife and me.

Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

Serenity, the Halo/Firefly crossover I've been slowly chipping away at for some time now. I'm also (spoilers?) kicking around an idea of a DnD crossover just for the fun of it all.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

No. I did get a meme stolen once though.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nuh uh.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I co-wrote Halo Fractured Glass: Fireteam Cutlass with a friend of mine. We made a Spartan pirate crew. A plentitude of both kicks and giggles were had.

What's your all-time favorite ship?

Fred/Kelly probably. Or Han/Leia. Or Fred/Daphne. Man, I don't know. I just love love I guess.

What's the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

One time, for no reason at all, I looked up Harry Potter fanfiction. I have avoided it forever because I actually like the established relationships in the universe and detest anything that implies a romantic connection between Hermione and Draco, so it's a pretty clear no-fly zone for me. However, during this one occurrence I somehow stumbled upon a ship of Katie Bell and Oliver Wood, read all of the stories with that tag, and then wrote ~70% of a one-shot of my own for the pair. Will most likely never finish it, because I really don't have much reason to do so.

What are your writing strengths?

I've been told (by kpmh2001, one of my all-time favorite authors and people) that I have somehow harnessed a talent in writing cute fluffy stories. Personally I like to think that I'm good at writing action sequences, but I have no outside information to corroborate that.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Keeping a coherent plot, and keeping my focus for more than a single chapter at a time. I'm absolute garbage at it.

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I speak fluent Portuguese (lived in Brazil for two years in my late teens/early 20s) so I'm confident with that. I can also understand Spanish, but every time I try to speak or write it still comes out in Portuguese so I end up relying pretty heavily on Google to fix my errors there.

First fandom you wrote for?

I think I have at least a dozen notebooks with Clone Wars fanfiction strewn throughout my parents' house. I'm a Star Wars man at heart, even though I don't ever write anything in that universe.

Favorite fic you've ever written?

Already said it, but Halo: Homecoming takes this spot again. It probably doesn't hold up as well as I like to think it does, but being my first ever success at writing an actual story with plot and motivation and a concrete ending has cemented it in my personal hall of fame.

@authortobenamedlater tagged me in this (and it was super fun, thanks for including me!)

Unfortunately, she is the only person I know on this site, so I don't really have anyone else to tag.

[pearlypairings]

WIP Weekend Challenge

soooo you might be thinking... "pearly didn't you do this challenge already?" and I'd say yes mutuals and friends I did....But what about second breakfast...er WIP challenge (I have so many WIPs and @lonelyspectator12 just tagged me so why the hell not!)

In a reblog (or new post w/rules attached), post up to five (5) file names of your WIPs; not titles, file names.

Post a snippet from one of them. Snippet must be words you wrote in the last 7 days. We’re posting progress here. If you haven’t made any, go make some and come back to post!

After you’ve posted, people can send you an ask with one of your file names. You must then write 3 sentences in that file. If the file name is one you can’t share from (for example, an event fic), write 3 sentences on it anyway, and then 3 more on another to share.

That’s it! You can invite others to join in, or just post. If you tag me in your post, I will send you an ask request!

WIP bonus files: (still stranger things, but either gen or non-hellcheer pairings)

Haircheer

Max's Letters

TP x ST teens

(lol can you guess the pairing for the first one based on my made-up ship name?)

Snippet from "Haircheer" which is my little experiment to see if I have it in me to write a full, organized long fic for a new pairing....

Jason’s focus stayed fixed on Chrissy as he walked up with a shiny smile amidst the chatty cheerleaders. Chrissy pulled away to meet him halfway and Steve glanced away when Jason leaned down to kiss her. Not his place to stare. Steve grabbed his bag to leave, skulk out of the gym with the rest of the underlings trying out for the cheer team, his new competition. “King Steve!” Steve winced a moment, before changing up his expression to a wide grin. Turning around, he spread his arms wide to greet his (unknown to them) former teammates. “Jason. Pat. Seems you missed the action.” “Chris can’t pay attention when I’m around, right babe?” He squeezed her sides in a tight tickle until she squealed and swatted him away.  “Besides I only like watching one girl cheer for us, no need to scope out the rest.” Jason hugged an arm over Chrissy’s shoulders, pulling her in close. Her face was rosy while her eyes lowered to the sealed waxfloor. Patrick next to them shrugged, disinterested in being the obvious third wheel. “You know one of the new girls?” Patrick raised a curious brow, innocent and offering an escape for both of them. Steve shook his head. “Nah, no. I, um, well I—”

My inbox is still open for asks about the last post's wips or these additional ones :) keep me productive loves!

I've already tagged some pals last time, so if anyone else has WIPs that need encouragement this is me poking youto add just three sentences to that stubborn fic.

[bokunobirthdays]

I wrote this like, a month and half ago and am just now deciding to post it. And I figured out how to change the font since writing that SaiOuma scene. Slight spoilers for chapter 3 of Dual Destinies.

A few notes below the cut, please ignore that Ema isn't actually in DD, I need as much of her and Klavier's dynamic as humanly possible. And some additional context for one of Ema's lines, I hc that she and Klavier dated for like, a month when she was first working as a detective, and he was a year or so into being a prosecutor. They broke it off amicably of course.

EXT. THEMIS LEGAL ACADEMY - DAY A beautiful, sunny day with lots of open air due to the lack of students around. The courtyard houses an enormous stage fit for a rock star and equally as glamorous for the main event of the school's festival. A single cloud moves overhead, covering part of the stage and casting a soft shadow over a dead body. Observing the body stands APOLLO JUSTICE (23) sporting his gold bracelet and a look of despair. A bright red suit covers his uncertainty just as his loud speech covers his nerves. APOLLO Athena...? ATHENA CYKES (18) wears a bold yellow that doesn't quite hide her anxious posture. Her face crinkles in an unnatural way as she isn't used to frowning so much. ATHENA I don't know! all we heard was a crash and when we came out here... Apollo, stuck, holds his position while Athena jumps around in panic. Suddenly, she stops and looks past him. Before he can turn around, there is a hand on his shoulder. The hand belongs to KLAVIER GAVIN (25), gleaming in the sunlight. He uses his other hand to push his golden locks out of his face. He has a deep V-neck that exposes the sweat on his chest purposefully and a necklace with his own emblem on it. KLAVIER Someone order a detective? EMA SKYE (26) pushes past them and kneels down next to the body. She pulls her sunglasses down and grabs a forensics kit out of her pocket, making sure not to disturb her bag of snacks. APOLLO (startled) Ema! Ema continues her work, handing something to Athena to analyze. EMA You can look around until I'm done with this. Then it's prosecution only. She steadies a serious look onto Klavier. EMA (cont'd) Prosecution actually on this case. Klavier laughs off her gaze and lets her continue her work, returning his hand to Apollo's shoulder from before it was disturbed. He leads the way over to a broken statue where the two try to piece it back together, hands brushing against one another several times. Athena halts her analysis to watch the two men. From a distance, she sees Apollo put a hand on Klavier's back and point toward an open window three floors up. The hand remains throughout their discussion. ATHENA Have they always been so... touchy? Ema is now on the other side of the body and is examining the floor beneath it. She spares the men a glance and looks back down. EMA The fop's always been like that. He always wanted to hold my hand or touch my neck or swipe my bangs away. She looks for a bit longer this time. EMA (cont'd) But I guess it's weird for Apollo. She lingers for a moment and then shifts her gaze to Athena. EMA (cont'd) Keep dusting. The sooner we're done, the sooner they'll stop. Athena jumps, suddenly aware of her surroundings and begins to dust the fingerprints thoroughly. After a beat, she slows down. ATHENA It's just... She looks down at her necklace. ATHENA (cont'd) I don't even sense any surprise from him. Klavier's arm has moved to settle around apollo's waist as they peruse the case file Klavier brought with him. Ema doesn't look up, instead pulling on a pair of gloves and poking at a nearby arrow. EMA Honestly, I don't think he's even noticed. Athena absentmindedly finishes her fingerprint analysis and peels her gaze away from the pair. She thinks to herself for a moment and gives a small hum before showing her results to Ema.

Klapollo seems like the type of couple to me where they’re always touching in some way. But you don’t even notice at first. Klavier always has an arm around Apollo’s shoulders, Apollo’s always touching Klavier’s back, etc. Athena doesn’t even pick up on any emotions because the two of them barely notice it themselves. It wouldn’t be until someone noticed it the first time that they’d then see the pattern that these two are just always in physical contact with one another. But still casually enough that you can’t tell if they’re dating or not.

[debbuchanan]

Random Thoughts Running Through My Head:

This is a random post I wrote back 2020. On June 14th,2023 my friend of 50 yrs took her last breath in my arms. It was not a quietly go to sleep passing. Due to a doctor who did not understand ALS it was a struggling to breath moment that should have never happened. When will the FDA stop playing God? People get worked up over their right to bear arms, rights to abort a child, why not your right to take a trial medicine that can possibly save your life?

ALS

So on our last visit to the ALS clinic I handed each discipline the new updated version of supplements my Pals is taking. Including the doctor. Not one added the list to her file on the computer. They all looked at it and layed it back down. Im guessing her file is never put into any kind of research or informative collection.

Yet, from day one she has researched the supplements that may possibly make a difference. A year ago January 2020 her ALS doctor said she had 6 months. Really? Because she is still here! I would think they would be asking us what we are doing to fight this Beast. Because, other than a saliva pill, elasticity pill, and an antidepressant pill, along with the therapy disciplines giving us ideas for exercises, and some equipment ordered. They just say see you in 3 or 4 months. Im wondering why they even test lung functions?? Just so they can deliver negative info.

I know that without the clinic and als organization insurance would not give us a CPAP, Breath Assist, Amazing Wheelchair, Tobi Eye Computer, hospital bed, walkers, bathing equipment, etc. Iam grateful!

Just give us the trial meds would you????? Sitting here waiting to exit this horrific disease while a select few get chosen to trial a pill that just might help ALL is so deeply disheartening!

Then this pandemic comes along and we have to sit back and watch as a miracle vaccine is developed over night. Politicians, big money, and big pharma want to force people to take the vaccines........

I don't think you would have to force one person suffering with ALS to take a trial med!!!!

Im just venting in hopes that some politician, big money, big pharma, big corporation that can make a difference would find my thoughts on here!

No worries! In the end I have my Faith! I know that what we are doing right here, right now is making a difference.

I've made this post available to all. Please Repost, Cut & Paste, whatever it takes to be read! I want it read! I want people to know what ALS is, what it takes away, and what it takes to live this life. I've only met Heroes on this Journey!

[serpenttailedangel]

Headcanons with at least some degree of canon evidence but maybe for some bullets not enough to really call theories about things canon might cover.

Motoyasu has no emotional relationship with his parents. He also had basically no guidance from his parents during adolescence.

Naofumi wasn’t particularly unpopular back home, but was too shy around women to have any female friends, and his only girlfriend was 2D.

Ren drinks to look cool but he has like no alcohol tolerance. His party didn’t have the heart to tell him how he made a fool of himself drunk.

The slave who Naofumi was training to cook in his village died during the phoenix fight.

Motoyasu was an art major.

Headcanons with literally no canon evidence but that won’t stop me.

Motoyasu, Itsuki, and Ren are all lactose intolerant.

Ren more so.

Itsuki’s parents were doting but oblivious. They were super proud of their son but never noticed he was being bullied.

Ren has a little sister who’s mean to him.

Emerald Online had micro transactions and Motoyasu bought them.

Motoyasu, unlike Naofumi, had no H-games. Why waste money on 2D when you can score the real thing?

By the way it’s actual canon that Naofumi played those.

Naofumi doesn’t know how to be sick. He doesn’t get sick. He’s seen other people do it and it looks awful, but he’s never been sick himself. If he ever got sick, he would forget to be a patient and take it easy.

[afandommultiverse]

Paper Pusher with CAPTAIN JOHN PRICE

♱ Warnings: absolutely none, just some fluff lol, I guess my manic writing is a warning itself Idk

♱ A/n: please enjoy my own personal brain rot, I wrote this at 2 almost 3am and HAVE NOT EDITED IT but I wanted to post it so bad 🥰 I’m not saying it’s good but it’s indulgent 🫶

♱ WC: 1.8k

⌐╦̵̵̿ᡁ᠊╾━ ♡ ⌐╦̵̵̿ᡁ᠊╾━

Paper work was easy, honestly, you preferred it over all the other things you had to do to get to this position. Sure, the boot camps were fun and were great for making friends in later stages. At the end of the day, you weren’t made for the field work and could barely cover your own ass, let alone any of your teammates. It was quick and easy to find a position on task 141 to help oversee and complete any paperwork for the team. This included many things, from researching for future missions and people, keeping up with any new possible sources or tips while the team was away, asking for permissions of sorts from higher ups, completing summaries for each soldier after missions etc etc. You had a lot to do, but like you said, it was all easy and totally worth it.

“Our little paper pusher, how are you doing hm? Miss us while we were away?” The sound of Soap's voice breached the silence in the office, before steps flooded the room. Soon, you had a group of men huddled around your desk, all looking down at you expectantly. You only looked up and smiled, before looking back to the computer to finish your last sentence of an email, before turning back to them.

“Definitely didn’t miss you that much. I like working in silence, thank you.”

“Sure little bird, that's why we could see you looking at us while landing from your window.” Ghost spoke slyly, and glimpsed in his eyes, telling you that he knew something you didn’t.

“Oh alright, you got me. I was waiting to see if there was still a chance you guys would crash before landing.” You quipped, stood up, and stepped over to the printer, where you picked up several forms and turned back around to face them.

“You know the drill boys, fill ‘em out and get them back to me, here in this office, by midnight.” Groans filled the room, but nonetheless, they each took their stacks of paperwork and even grabbed some pens from the cup sitting on your desk. They filed one by one, closing the door again on their way out. When they were gone, you turned and walked into your storage room connecting to your office, and began rifling for an agreement form you had hidden away somewhere. The original was with Price, but since he wasn’t with the guys when they gamed in, you figured he was busy and didn't want to bother him when you could likely find the paper yourself - well, at least after you got some of these boxes out of the way.

You started from the top, wanting to take things easy, and reduce the chances of any of the boxes toppling on top of you. You searched alphabetically, following first, middle and last words you could have used to code the document or even any acronyms, but still had to find it. After fifteen minutes, you were about ready to five up, but that's when you saw it, balancing on a wobbly shelf with 3 around it blocking it in. In all honesty, it was a wonder you had even seen it, but now that you know where it is, the determination from earlier flooded your system and you began planning your accent.

The footstool was too short, but it was thick enough to hold one of the strong containers, filled with books, and from there you could step on that to reach the boxes. The first box came down easily, a loud smack sounding throughout the room as you threw it down to the floor as gently as possible from your elevation. The second one was a little harder, having to push on to the tops of your feet a bit more, your heel ever so slightly coming off the box underneath you. You felt a slight wobble from the shelf, which in turn made you wobble, but after a quick second you were sturdy again. The second smack was a little less loud, landing on top of the other box a bit more softly from the shorter distance.

When you reach the third box, you step to the tip of your toes, the step stool wobbling under your uneven weight as you balance on top of it, but also balancing against the shelf that keeps threatening to tip back against your weight, pushing the box further from the tips of your fingers. You failed your hands to catch the edges of it, pushing it towards yourself, but the movement made minimal progress. You stepped on one foot, slowly going back to what you were doing, concentrating so hard you didn’t hear your office door open and shut again.

“Need some help with that?” The voice startled you, ripping in half the concentration and balance you tried so hard to maintain in two. It was like dominoes, the shelf pushing back against your surprised weight and falling against the wall at an awkward angle. Unable to control your momentum, you fell forward with it - the tips of your feet pushing the box under you off the stool quickly. Just as you realized you were indeed falling, two arms wrapped around your waist from underneath you. As your brain caught up with the situation, your hands gripping on the shelf so tight from the fear of upcoming pain, however there was none. The strong arms wrapped around your waist and butt to stop you from falling much further, literally holding you up. Finally, the head of someone just underneath your chin staring up at you bewildered, but as he recognized you were okay, you recognized who HE was.

“P-Price?” Your whole body felt warm, looking down at him shocked. He too mirrored your expression, but it soon turned into a cheeky smile and mischievous glint in his eye.

“Just fallin’ all over me now, are you, L/n?” You turned your head away in embarrassment, to which he chuckled before he moved. He set your feet on top of the step stool again, this time with no shifty box of books on top. When you were stable enough, you stood on the stool yourself, already missing the warm arms around you. But when you unlatched yourself from the shelf, you balanced yourself on his shoulders, liking the feeling of the taunt muscles underneath.

“Are you okay?” He asked, looking at you for any injury to which there was none, fortunately because of his quick savior. You felt like you could breathe again, stepping back on the stool and looking at him in all his returning from mission glory.

“Yes, thank you so much, Price.” You felt your sweat cool from the anxious event, stepping down from step still and standing on solid ground again.

“What were you looking for anyway? Want me to grab it?” He offered, turning to look at the shelf to where you were picking through, seeing the final box, and grabbed the stool for himself. Before you knew it, he was handing you the box to look through, and thankfully you found exactly what you needed. He followed you out of the side room, setting the box on your desk, and you turned off the light and shut the door, almost hesitating to turn back around to the man whose whole presence filled your office.

“You should be more careful, or ask for help next time. We can’t have our little paper pusher out on the comp now.” You snorted, turning to face him with a smile, he always had something to say. You walked over your desk, setting down to sit and riffle through the stacks of forms for the next three or so hours.

“You’d only miss me because you’d have three times as much work to do if it weren’t for me, Captain, don’t kid yourself.” He laughed, heading even tilting back a little. You loved to make him laugh, it was one of your favorite things to do, because if you could make him laugh, you got a heart with that wonderfully velvety voice that almost sang to you.

“You only half right, I’ll give you that.” He settled down in the chair in front of me, laying back like he planned to stay longer. He took his hat off, scratching his head, before placing it back on top in its place.

“Oh? What’s this other half hm? Let me guess, my winning personality?” That sarcasm was basically dripping, but he wasn’t phased, smiling at you before saying,

“If it were up to me, I’d say you were a mind reader, Y/n.” You rolled your eyes, a smile tugging at your lips as you tried to get some work done, but you could not keep your eyes off the man in front of you. He looked tired, but he was happy and tired. The mission had been a success, with zero casualties, and benefited greatly from it, with new assets and even some information worth zeroing in on. Something you would no doubt have to fit in your schedule somehow, but nonetheless it was better than the alternative.

“Don’t you want to go get washed up? Go relax with a cigar or something?” You asked after a half-hour of debriefing and catching up. He had taken off his hat completely, hair messy and flat. His eyes were barely staying open as it is, but he kept chatting, offering to help with anything and everything, not wanting to stay a minute longer as he had asked you earlier when you had come in. When you told him 5am, he almost couldn't believe it, as your job started at 8am, but apparently you wanted a head start on the day. In truth, you couldn’t sleep that night, you could never sleep well enough on the night that they were supposed to come back, almost expecting something wrong to happen, and never being able to see them again, never being able to see Price again.

“I’m relaxing here.” He spoke so plainly. Like he hadn’t been up for the last 64 hours. John Price needed rest.

“I thought you would say that, that’s why I sent Ghost a little email.” As if right on que, Ghost knocked on and opened the door. Walking in and up the Captain.

“Heard yer botherin’ the nice lady.” He joked, nudging John's shoulder while looking back at me shocked.

“You're kicking me out? After I saved you?” You stood and rounded the desk, coming to rest on it in front of him.

“You need to rest John, as much as you want to keep working, you can’t. So get some rest and see me in the morning to talk about your summary papers for this mission.” John groaned as he stood, but shot you a smile before following Ghost out. Truthfully, John didn’t need Ghost to leave, he would have left if you asked the right way.

But you knew deep down you wouldn’t have asked him to leave.

[mercy-burning]

Good Little Helper

Pairing: Season 5! Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Reader gets assigned to be Spencer’s personal assistant of sorts after he gets shot in the knee. Category: SMUT(18+) Content Warnings: fingering (female receiving), blowjob, praise kink, dirty talk, blink and you’ll miss it cumplay Word Count: 4.7k

MASTERLIST

NOTE: So, remember yesterday when I posted about how I wished new ideas would stop distracting me from everything I’m currently working on? Yeah. This wouldn’t leave me alone, and I couldn’t work on anything until I got it out of my head, so here! Have a fic! (It was supposed to be a blurb, but I got a little long-winded so now it’s too long to be a blurb oops 😙✌) Also, I apologize for any editing mistakes, I just wrote this out in one go, so hopefully it’s alright!

***

Being assigned to assist Dr. Reid with practically his every need after he was shot in the knee wasn't exactly how I expected to spend the past few months.

And that's, like... a huge understatement.

In fact, when Agent Hotchner came up to me in the break room and said he'd like me to do the job, I dropped my coffee and shattered a mug. I could tell he was a little impatient with me, even through his kind reassurances that it was quite all right as he helped me clean it up and waited for an answer.

In the end I'd said yes to the job, though the more I thought about it the more I wondered how much lust and naivete had clouded my judgement when I did.

Because there was absolutely no way I was going to be able to survive weeks, possibly months, as Spencer Reid's assistant. Not only because he was intimidatingly intelligent and there was almost nothing I could offer him in decent conversation, but also—and more prominently—the fact that I was pretty sure I was in love with him.

Maybe that was a stretch. I definitely had a stupid major crush on him that felt more like we were in middle school, but I could barely look at him without going warm all over. In fact, I think we had only ever made eye contact once and I averted my gaze immediately, afraid I'd give myself away. If I'd have held it any longer, I was positive I'd have burst into flames.

He'd tried talking to me once, a few months after I started working at the Bureau, and it was only to ask if I'd send some files over to their tech analyst, Penelope Garcia, but when I tried answering, I stumbled over my words and ended up only getting out a squeaked, "Uh huh," before taking the files from him and scurrying off.

I almost cried that day.

Basically every time I was in his presence, I was a total wreck. Even more so than I was on any other given day.

Being his assistant did get fairly easy pretty early on, though. I mostly just stayed out of his way while he worked, and if he need anything that he could've gotten himself if not for the injury, it was my job to get it for him. I worked on my own paperwork most of the time, and he was always busy working on geographical profiles and whatever else, we only ever really had to talk when he asked for something. And that only required a, "Sure," on my end, so I could just get up, get what he needed, and then go back to work.

Still, it didn't help that sometimes I'd get distracted.

He was very distracting.

I usually waited until I was sure he was so busy in work that I wouldn't get caught. And that's when I'd peek over my computer or hide behind a book and stare at him. I know that sounds creepier than it is, but if you had to spend almost every hour of the day with him, you'd have done the same. Even though for months he was put on rest from the field, he always showed up looking more like a college professor than an FBI agent. Which, I suppose suited him more anyway. Regardless, it was a damn fine look. His hair was decently long and extremely pretty, and when he got the cane?

I was a goner.

It was at that point, though, when I started to realize that he probably wouldn't need my help anymore. He'd been allowed back into the filed by then, and even when I went with them on cases it still felt like I was more out of place than usual. Sure, I'd picked up on some minor skills that aided in profiling and otherwise, but at the end of the day I was still only a desk clerk. Sooner or later, I knew there would be a time where Agent Hotchner would inevitably tell me that I'd done a good job and could return to my menial day job.

So, even though Dr. Reid and I had gotten into a pretty regular, non-awkward rhythm, I was being a little more squirrely than usual.

And of course, he noticed.

"Y/N, are you doing alright?" he asked, looking up from his stack of paperwork. That was another thing we'd ended up doing— late into the night after everyone had gone home, we stayed late in the conference room and quietly filled out paperwork.

I barely looked him in the eye when I answered. "O—Oh, mhm. I'm fine."

"Oh... You just seem... a little different today."

On any other day I would have freaked out on the inside like a teenager, excited that he'd noticed me at all enough to notice a difference in my behavior. But that was his job after all.

"Actually, you seem rather... sad."

I did look up at him this time, and the soft glow of the table lamp lit up his features— features that looked me over with concern. I could feel my face grow warmer with every second I looked at him, until I quickly looked back down at my paper and shook my head.

"N—No, I'm okay. Promise. Just a little tired, that's all."

Usually he would have left it at that, given we didn't ever really have longer conversations than that that didn't pertain to whatever case the BAU was working on. But he pushed further, and I swallowed.

"Are you sure? Because... You can tell me if there's something wrong. I'm a good listener..."

Did I dare tell him what was really plaguing me? That I was scared I wasn't going to be able to spend time with him every day, thus most likely giving away my crush? That is, if he hadn't already figured it out by this point... Truthfully it wouldn't have surprised me.

The thought made me go warm again, and still, I kept my head down.

"I'm sure..."

And then I did something I probably shouldn't have. I looked back up at him, just a quick glance, but under his intense gaze I crumbled, flitting my eyes back down and playing with my hands.

"Is it... because of me?"

Afraid suddenly that I'd made him feel bad, I straightened a little. "No! No, not at all I... Um... I—I guess I'm just... A little sad that I'm probably... not going to be of any help to you anymore. You know, now that you're healing up."

A small smile flashed over his face, and I inwardly melted.

"Oh... In that case I... I guess I'm sad, too."

"Really?" I asked softly, my heart jumping.

"Mhm," he answered back in earnest. His features were softer than they'd ever been, eyes wide and kind, smile inviting... "You've been a great help. And you're fun to be around."

I couldn't help but smile shyly at his confession, completely bewildered that he'd think of me as someone he'd enjoyed being around, though I'd offered just about nothing interesting to any conversation we'd had. "Y—You don't mean that..."

"I do."

"C'mon, really? I... I—mean... coming from you that's... that's too generous."

He laughed a little. "How do you mean?"

"I... Well, y—you're you... I mean, you're... smart, and nice, and cu— uh,... n—nice..." I stumbled hard on that last one, squeezing my eyes shut at the thought of almost calling him cute to his face... And then I realized I'd called him nice two times... in a row.

I hadn't even realized he'd gotten up and walked over to me until I felt his cane gently tap my leg. I jumped, looking up at him and almost crumbled again right then and there. He stood over me, tall and clearly amused, and I wanted to just curl up and hide where no one would ever find me.

I also didn't want to be craning my neck so far up to see him, so I stood up, sending my chair rolling back a foot or two. The added height was better, but he was still fiarly taller than me, and with the way were standing so close to each other?

Maybe I'd made a mistake...

"I—I'm sorry," I stammered.

Still amused, Spencer tilted his head a small amount. "What for?"

"I... I don't know, m—making this awkward?"

"It's not awkward."

"It... It's not?"

He shook his head, quiet for a few beats before he nearly whispered. "What were you going to say?"

I paused. "I... What?"

"Before... You said I was smart. And nice... And... What else?"

It sounded like he was trying to get me to confess something, and quite honestly I couldn't tell if it was for humiliation or amusement or clarification purposes. I mean, it was probably safe to assume he wouldn't go out of his way to humiliate me, but... it still made me nervous.

"I—I didn't... I..."

"Y/N... Tell me?"

I'd been cornered. Quite literally, too, as my lower back hit the edge of the table. My hands shook anxiously at my sides as I contemplated what to say. The truth? Embarrassing for me. A lie? I was no good at telling lies, and I'd still end up embarrassed, because he'd be able to tell.

So, after a very long silence in which he waited on me to answer, I blurted out, as quietly as possible, "Cute."

The word sounded juvenile coming from my mouth. Right now, standing under Dr. Reid's intense scrutiny, it didn't even feel like the right word to describe him. Not that it wasn't true... But it just wasn't an elegant enough descriptor for him.

And that alone probably proved just how different we were. How out of my league he was...

"That's what I thought you were going to say," he mused, slightly breaking me out of my self-deprecation.

I would have asked him something then, anything to keep myself from looking like even more of a fool with a childish schoolgirl crush, but all words escaped me entirely. All I could do was look up at him, slowly growing warm under the intensity of his eyes and praying he wouldn't think of me as silly.

Though, it wouldn't have mattered, because he kept talking anyway, his body taking up even more space around me as his arms came around to well and truly trap me against the table.

"You're right, you know... I'm almost completely healed, and pretty soon I think I won't need an assistant anymore."

I was scared that maybe I was wrong before, and he'd actually humiliate me now, though the look in his eyes suggested otherwise. I wasn't sure what to make of all of it. SO I just stood there, trying to breath steadily as Spencer studied my face.

"And I meant it... That makes me sad. You know why?"

I shook my head, afraid to make a sound.

His head dipped lower, close enough that I could feel his breath on my mouth as he spoke. "I probably won't get to see you every day."

"Y—you want to see me?" I couldn't help but ask.

He scanned my eyes, amusement and something else lingering there as he did. "Yes."

And then he kissed me.

It was a short distance, but it felt like we went far. And I hadn't even registered that I whimpered into his mouth until he returned it with a low groan that boiled my insides and absolutely melted me. I was helpless against him as he pressed himself further against me and used his hands to keep my back steady.

The whole time my mind was swimming with dizziness. It felt like my body was covered in butterflies from head to toe, particularly strong where his hands pressed into me and his cane rested firmly along the inside of my thigh.

I leaned forward when he pulled away, because I was afraid that he was saying goodbye. But one of his hands came up to my face and my eyes fluttered open, immediately taking notice of how messy his hair was now that I'd had my fingers in it.

I must have looked scared, because suddenly his eyes changed, and he removed his hands away from me altogether, putting distance in between us. "I—I'm sorry. I shouldn't have kissed you without asking..."

The relief that rushed through my body must have gotten to my head, because I breathed out a demand I'd never have had the courage to get out before.

"Do it again."

One second I was staring at him, admittedly afraid that he'd regretted all of it, and the next I was seeing stars as he came forward and kissed me again. His hands cradled my face as he did so, coming on to me with gentle care while still maintaining that hunger that surprised and excited me.

I hadn't realized how much I missed his touch until he'd given it back to me, my body once again melting into him and allowing him to do whatever it is that pleased him.

Apparently that was lifting my leg off the ground and making me sit on the table.

My body went along with it easily, and I was glad for it because my brain was nothing but mush, unable to process fully how he'd decided that I was worth kissing. All I really knew was that I wanted him. Anything he wanted from me, I was willing to give. And that must have come across very clearly, because when he pulled away and spoke to me, I whimpered at his words.

"Y/N... You've been such a good girl, helping me with whatever I needed these past few months..." Meanwhile his hand danced along the hem of my skirt, the tiny brushes of his skin against mine sending me into a mess of shivers.

"I think it's about time I've thanked you for all your help, don't you think?"

The implications in his tone made me whine again, and I pressed my forehead into his, our noses brushing as I answered. "Please."

I was so taken by the way he groaned as his lips connected with mine once more that I almost didn't realize that his hand was now fully up my skirt, his fingers drawing gentle lines over my panties and practically making me melt again. His hungry kisses contradicted the softness he took to my clothed cunt, a fact that warmed me to my core and made me want him more than ever.

When he slipped the fabric aside and ran the pad of his finger through me, I whined hard against his mouth, something that must have excited him— He nipped at my bottom lip and took a deep breath.

"How long have you wanted this, Princess?"

If not for the kissing and the finger slowly sliding up through my arousal, the nickname would have done me in. By now I was an utter wreck, but I somehow still managed to answer, even through a little stammering. "F—Forever."

It was the best I could come up with.

He breathed a laugh as his finger circled my clit. "That's a long time..."

"Uh huh," was all I could manage in response. My body and my brain were too focused on the things his finger was doing to my body, involuntarily rolling my hips forward for more. I needed more.

Thankfully he picked up on my urgency and reciprocated with slipping his middle finger inside me, one knuckle, then two...

I cried out as my head lurched forward, connecting our mouths once again. My hands clutched around his neck and my fingers tugged at his hair to keep myself from falling, because the slow, searing pace at which he fingered me made me wonder how I'd still been able to breathe.

He added another finger soon enough, picking up the pace and rendering me practically useless in his embrace. Meanwhile I registered the sound of his own little whines, still deeper than mine but little enough to tip me off that he was enjoying this just as much as I was, and that alone helped get me further along in pleasure.

I pulled my mouth from his reluctantly, squeezing my eyes shut as I allowed my forehead to rest against his. "D—Doctor, I'm c... I'm so close."

"His honorific falling breathlessly from my mouth seemed to do something sinister to him, because his fingers sped up and his breathing got heavier.

"Yeah? You gonna come for me, Princess?"

My stomach tightened and I nodded as best as I could, relishing in the sounds coming from below us, wet and downright filthy.

"Go ahead...Be a good girl and come for me... You deserve it..."

Each little sentence was punctuated with a slightly faster pace, each one bringing me closer and closer until I squeaked into his mouth and shook violently around his fingers, my vision going white. My legs had been open wide since he'd started teasing under my skirt, but now they threatened to clamp shut from the intensity. But I wanted nothing more than to be good for him, to make this as easy as possible, so I held out and kept them open as wide as I could stand as my orgasm rocked through me.

Spencer whispered praises into my skin as his hand slowed and his mouth trailed down to my neck. And even though it was more than nice feeling him lick and bite over my skin, I felt rather sad when he removed his fingers from me.

That sadness didn't last long though, not when he pulled back and studied me for a moment, eyes lust-blown and purely ravenous before he brought his glistening fingers up to my mouth.

I didn't even have to think. I brought my tongue out and let him slip his fingers over it, closing my mouth around them and sighing as I sucked them clean. This only seemed to excite him more, his features displaying all sorts of desperation until he couldn't take it anymore.

He kissed me again, bringing both his hands to rest at my waist. And with his hands so low I wondered if maybe he'd take to ridding himself of his own pants, but it never happened. Rather, he pulled away after minutes of more kissing, and sighed quite sadly as his upper body pressed firmly into mine.

Something else pressed firmly against me as well—right along the inside of my thigh—and I gasped, mind running wild through all the possible outcomes of the night.

But Spencer only stood there, occasionally nudging his nose against mine while his hands gently kneaded my sides.

"D—Do you want to stop?" I asked softly, afraid he'd regret what we did.

He proved me wrong. "God, no... It's... It's just that I'm still not cleared enough for any... strenuous activity on my leg, and I don't..."

I didn't want to push him, obviously, but I thought I could make the mood a little lighter. "O—Oh, well on the bright side... I could stay your assistant for a while longer."

The laugh that rumbled in his throat made me smile, though from the way he stood there, I knew he wouldn't risk it.

"Um... Raincheck?" he whispered.

On the one hand, that meant he definitely wanted to see me again, and I was more than happy with that. But also, that meant our fun for the night was done...

Yet... Maybe not...

"Sure," I answered, pecking his lips once more. Then I brought my hand to his chest and slid it down until I reached his belt, and I leaned back to look him in the eye, a boldness I never imagined coming from me in a million years.

"But I can still help you..."

I watched the desperation and disappointment in his features slowly dissolve into a newfound hunger—and an amusement—that grew my confidence tenfold.

"Oh?" Spencer mused. "How do you suppose you can help me this time?"

He wanted me to say it. So, without second guessing myself anymore, I grazed my finger over his erection. "I'm very good with my mouth, Dr. Reid."

He grabbed me by the hand then, dragging me along to the chair I'd kicked back before and sat himself down, one of his hands still gripping the cane. Matched with the desire in his eyes and the swollenness of his lips and the tousled strands of his hair, the sight was truly something to behold. It was something that only ever existed in my dreams, nd now it was real.

Not wanting to waste any time, I sunk to my knees and nestled myself in between his legs. He reached out and caressed my cheek before lifting my chin with his middle finger.

"You like being my good little helper?" he drawled.

I tried to nod, but he clicked his tongue and held my chin in place. "Words, Princess."

"Yes. I—I'd do anything you asked. Anything you want, it's yours..."

He hummed then, removing his hand from my face and moving to undo his belt swiftly with only one hand. The action, the sound, everything... it was enough to make me wet again, and I subtly ground down onto the heel of my foot as I watched him pull himself free from the confines of his pants.

I didn't have time to marvel at him before I was drawn forward like a magnet, my hands crawling up his legs and my eyes batting up at him, ready and eager to please him however he wanted.

"Eager, are we?" he mused once more, gently stroking himself with his hand.

"Yes, Doctor," I breathed, inching closer and kissing the outside of his hand.

His movement stopped then, and it didn't take longer than a second for him to decide to let me work on my own.

"Then have at it, Princess..."

I started by kissing my way up the length of him, taking my time to gauge his reactions as I did so, occasionally darting my tongue out to taste him. Once I reached the tip, I sucked on it gently, using my tongue to swirl around it until I could taste the saltiness of his precum.

And then I started taking him slowly into my mouth, watching above me as Spencer's eyes started to shut, obviously debating whether or not to lay back and enjoy this or watch me intently.

Either way, I was more than happy to keep it up, finally getting him to the back of my throat. I flexed my tongue and held him there as long as I could, promptly gagging over him and blinking tears from my eyes as he let out a loudest sound I'd heard from him yet. His head flew back and his tongue quivered along his bottom lip as he cursed my name.

The act made me proud, so I retreated for air, sucked at his tip again for a few seconds, and then repeated it, taking him down my throat again and watching through teary eyes as he visibly swallowed and squeezed his eyes shut.

"Fuck, Y/N, you're so... Such a good fucking girl..."

The praise caused my insides to burn hot, and I ground down onto my heel again, lifting my mouth to start bobbing up and down.

His eyes opened then, and he looked down at me, using his hand to brush stray hair from my face and the other to grip onto his cane for dear life. I looked up at him the whole time, making sure to convey through not only my actions but also my eyes that I loved this. I thrived off of his praise, I enjoyed the feel of his dick gliding over my tongue and hitting the back of my throat, and I longed to feel him coat the inside of my mouth with his release.

I was so entirely into him in every capacity, it wasn't even funny.

I was so glad he could tell, a smile grazing his features as his hand gently gripped some of my hair. "So eager to please, Princess... And so fucking good at delivering..."

I whined onto his dick as he held me down, rendering me immobile. The only thing I could do was look up at him and choke, and of course, I was more than happy to do it. In turn, I was met with a deep groan and a tug of the hair.

"Hold it, hold it... Atta girl..."

My cunt throbbed at his words, and my throat continued to burn, tears falling down my face at ten-speed until finally, he let up and pulled me off of him.

I coughed a little and blinked away tears as I caught my breath, Spencer's fingers combing hair from my face as he smiled proudly.

He didn't even need to say anything then. I wanted to give him more. So I leaned down again and took him in my mouth, quickly making work of his tip while my hand came up and stroked the rest of him.

"Fuck, Princess, just like that... Make me come just like that..."

Rather than just continuing, I offered him a high whine and a wide gaze, hoping to exceed expectations.

I guess it worked, because he came right then, his dick pulsing over my tongue and in my hand as his warm release shot down my throat and over my tongue. I hummed around him, fluttering my eyes closed at the taste and the feeling, probably enjoying the fact that I'd done this to him more than I should have.

It was worth it to see the look on his face, though, after he'd given me all he had and I purposely spit some of it out onto the tip of his dick so I could lick it up and give him just a little more stimulation after the fact. His mouth hung open, eyes heavy and unwilling to leave me, even as I finished and sat back to wipe the tears and saliva from my face with a satisfied smile.

Though, the longer he looked at me, the more shy I became. Funny when I'd just had his dick down my throat, but I'd never been good with people staring at me for long periods of time.

"Was that... Was that okay?" I asked, suddenly worried I hadn't done something to his standards. "I know I don't do this a lot, so I'm sorry if it wasn't that g—"

"Y/N..."

I blinked up at him, still on my knees and unwilling to move. Not that I wanted to, but I couldn't even if I had.

"That was fucking perfect... I meant it, you're... so good."

I knew he was capable of better words, but after having the life sucked out of you, I could imagine 'better words' were hard to come by. Still, I laughed a little, playing with the hem of my skirt. "Good. I'm... glad I could help."

He smiled at me, readjusting his pants and then moving to help me off the ground.

"Hey, uh... Even when you go back to your regular job after I get better, I... I hope you know you're always welcome to come visit me if we're not busy."

The words warmed me in a different way, my heart swelling as well. "You... You mean that?"

Spencer nodded, grabbing my hand and dragging his thumb over my wrist. "Of course. I mean, you're more than just a good helper, you know. You're also kind, and smart, and cute..."

I laughed at his emphasis on cute, heat warming my face. "Ha-ha..."

"I really mean it, though," he said softly, removing his hand from mind and bringing it up to lift my chin, so I'd meet his eyes. They were swimming with sincerity, the epitome of warmth and comfort and kindness— the kind that always drew me to him in the first place. "And... If you'd want to maybe ditch the paperwork one day and grab a coffee or something, maybe—"

"Yes," I interrupted without thinking. My heartbeat picked up upon seeing the look in his eyes when I agreed, a mixture of amusement and relief. "Y—Yes, I'd love to."

"Good. Then it's a date?"

"Definitely."

PERMANENT TAGLIST:  @elldell1204 @muffin-cup @calm-and-doctor @slutforthegubes @rainsong01 @yourmisosoup @liveloudwriteloud @reidsconverse @la-vie-en-amour1 @edgycowboy666 @averyhotchner @centiaaa @lizziechaseee @coffeeandendlesswords @usuck @spenxerslut @g0lden-cth @emilyprentisslittlewhore @takeyourleap-of-faith @reidyoulikeabook @spencerreid9 @b-a-utiful @jareauswifey @big-galaxy-chaos

If you would like to be added to or removed from the taglist, please let me know in a message or comment, and I’ll be sure to get to it! Thank you!

[kedreeva]

WIP Wednesday Game

(original post)

Rules:

Post up to five (5) filenames of your WIPs; not titles, file names.

Post a snippet from one of them. Snippet must be words you wrote in the last 7 days. We’re posting progress here. If you haven’t made any, go make some and come back to post!

After you’ve posted, people can send you an ask with one of your file names. You must then write 3 sentences in that file. If the filename is one you can't share from (for example, an event fic), write 3 sentences on it anyway, and then 3 more on another to share.

That’s it! You can invite others to join in, or just post. If you tag me in your post, I will send you an ask request!

My file names:

FP Chapter 3

Ladyhawke AU (can't share)

Sentinel CH9

In Sorrow CH2

Singing CH10

My Snippet: (from FP Chapter 3)

“Don’t. It’s not Rhiley.”

Osker startled and froze, white-knuckling the knob. He looked over his shoulder to find Steve leaning haggardly against the doorframe of the dining room, watching him with a silvery glow in his pupils. “What?”

“Rhiley’s still asleep.” Steve raised his nose a little, giving a sniff in Osker’s direction, eyes on the door. “I can hear his heartbeat in Jasper's room.”

“But- I can-” Osker let the knob go to fully face Steve. “I can hear him calling me, outside. If it’s not him, what is it?”

“Crocotta.” He dragged himself away from the frame, gesturing for Osker to follow with a slight twitch his his head. He pulled a chair out from the dining room table and sank gingerly into it, but Osker stopped in the entryway. “It’s a canid super, kind of a- a hyena on steroids. They can mimic a human voice, so they follow travelers around to learn their names, and then call them away from the campfire.”

“Away from safety.” Osker blanched. He’d nearly fallen for it. “So they can kill you.”

“If you’re lucky,” Steve said with a slow smile. “They like to eat bits while you’re still alive and screaming, so they can learn to mimic those things, too. Not something you want to meet along at night.”

“No,” Osker agreed. “But we’re not traveling. Why’s it here?”

“Smell of our kitchen fire’s got it mixed up, I’d guess.”

Osker looked him over, still tense, but Steve wasn’t the threat here. Even at full strength, he’d never been the threat. He took a few steps into the room, just far enough to smooth his hands over the back of the nearest chair, opposite Steve. “You’ve, uh… you’ve been saving me an awful lot.”

“You’ve been getting into a lot of trouble,” Steve said, wincing when he leaned forward and straightening again, hand on his ribs. “Maybe stop doing that.”

[angeli-marco-writes]

∘◦ ♪ ◦∘ Timothée Chalamet - Concerto ∘◦ ♪ ◦∘

A/N - I wrote and posted this almost a year ago on my Wattpad. My writing has evolved a lot since then, but I’m still proud of this piece, and hope you enjoy it. I do not know Tim, nor do I claim to in any way. This is a work of fiction and entirely my own. 

Warnings - smut. Detailed (but protected and consensual) sex, slight BDSM, overstimulation. Cursing. Legal alcohol consumption and smoking. Also 10k words of sickening fluff though, even the smut is fluffy.

Summary - At a classical music concert, the last person you expect to meet is a young man as charming and suave as Timothée. And the last thing you expected is for him to invite you back to his flat. Turns out music really is food for the soul, and other things...

IT’S A FRIDAY EVENING IN NEW YORK CITY. The sun is setting behind the towering silhouettes of undulating buildings all across the city, the moon casting shadows all around au contraire to the luminescence of building lights, beaming all around as well as the street lamps, bringing colour and light to people’s faces in the dark.

You’re standing on the pavement outside Symphony Space Concert Hall on the Upper West Side, people watching. Nothing more or less conspicuous, just observing everyone flooding into the hall, though none of them seem to be under 50 years of age. After checking the time, you take your phone out of the pocket attached to your delicate silk jumpsuit you’re wearing for the night, the one reserved for classy parties and sophisticated concerts only (though very handy). You open the email holding your ticket for the evening, a Poulenc appreciation concert, and you show it to the bouncer who grants you entry to the auditorium.

The room looks incredible. Photos of Francis Poulenc, as well as some old parchment sheets of his music spread out delicately over the usually bare walls. The lights create a perfect ambience in the hall for what's sure to be an incredible evening. The red velvet seats are half full, dotted with people at least twice your age, except from one seat near the front where you can see merely a defined jaw and brown curls. On the stage stands two glossy black grand pianos, slotted beside one another with plush velvet stools and their lids propped up, allowing one to see the inner workings of such wonderful instruments. Behind the pianos are seats enough for an entire orchestra, creating a crescent moon shape. A couple of the seats already have instruments atop them, aching for their owners to play beautiful melodies with them. You make your way down to where your seat is, familiar with the layout of the auditorium. You’re on the right hand side of the centre stalls, third row back, but as you arrive, there’s a boy you saw earlier, not much older than yourself.

“Hi, do you mind if I squeeze past?” You ask him, watching his head jolt up from the programme to reveal a mop of beautiful dark brown curls framing his chiselled face, piercing green eyes with flecks of hazel when the light changed direction. You recognise him, an actor, you simply can’t place him.

His look of incredulity melts into a smile. “Sure.” He says, moving his legs so that you can squeeze past and take your reserved seat on his left. He turns to face you, smiling. He’s wearing a crisp navy suit with a pale blue shirt and a matching tie. He looks well presented, and by his nervous and lopsided smile, you guess that he’s rather nervous to be at the concert alone too. “Timothée.” He tells you, holding his hand out.

You return his gesture, smiling right back at him, and tell him your name. “You here alone?” You ask him, turning in your seat to get a better view. He nods.

“Thought I’d be the only under fifty here.” He laughs, “I’m 24 by the way, but I shan’t ask your name since you're a lady.” You can't help but laugh at this, just a little giggle at how sweet he is, but your interaction is cut short as the lights turn down in the auditorium but shine brighter on the stage, and a full orchestra enters the stage, accompanied by their instruments, two pianists and a conductor. Murmurs in the hall settle down to a faint hum while the musicians tune to the sound of the oboe, and then begin to play.

The music is mesmerising, starting with orchestral pieces with faint piano accompaniment, then just a nocturne for piano, split between the two lead pianists. You could listen to it all night, but an interval has to come. As the lights slowly turn back up, you see an infantile smile on Timothée’s face, as though he’s just watched the most excellent thing in the world.

“Come on,” you say to him, smiling sadly while you tap his knee, “let’s get a drink.”

He reluctantly stands up to follow you out of the auditorium and to the small bar area. You order two margarita’s without consulting him, but he seems grateful as you sit beside each other on a high table, people watching once again.

“What's your job then?” He asks you, making small talk.

“I’m a piano major at Juilliard, teaching piano on the side though.” You respond, and he seems really taken aback. His jaw falls a little slack while his eyes bulge a tad.

“Wow, you must be excellent!” You blush a little at his words, elegantly taking a sip from your drink while he eyes you carefully. You feel awkward under his gaze, though flattered nonetheless. He’s gorgeous, and he’s complimenting you and accepting drinks from you, what a night.

“What about you?” You inquire. He's an actor, you know that, but asking means that you may be able to get some more context and maybe it’ll click where you’ve seen him before. He clears his throat, and you can see some older people walking by who pull faces, judging the pair of you, but you brush them off.

“I’m an actor, mainly small films though.” He says, remaining vague. You don’t push much more, realising that he probably likes not being fawned all over for once, so you simply ask of the favourite names he’s had the honour of working alongside, which must be an uncommonly asked question because a light flickers behind his eyes.

“Selena Gomez, Steve Carell, Armie Hammer, Saoirse Ronan, Emma Watson, Robert Pattinson, Maia Mitchell…” He begins to list, but only when he mentions Maia does it click. You aren't huge into films, but you have seen him in a film with Maia Mitchell and Maika Monroe a few years ago.

“Hot summer nights, right? You were in that?” His cheeks turn a magnificent crimson and he bows his head as though embarrassed. He mumbles something along the lines of ‘not my best performance’, but you disagree. “I think you were wonderful, and did you mention Armie Hammer?” He nods again, seeming a little brighter. You take another sip from your drink, and he follows suit, watching your poised movements.

“Call Me By Your Name.” You nod in recognition, you remember watching the film when it first came out and loving the music from it.

“You’re excellent you know, at piano I mean, and the intimate scenes aren’t half bad either, you make them better.” You say with a teasing smirk on your painted lips, making Timothée’s eyes widen again. You chuckle and grasp his hand, dragging him into the auditorium for the second half.

The second half is a whole concerto, Poulenc’s Concerto For Two Pianos And Orchestra. Ten minutes in, Timothée’s hand finds your thigh and seems very comfortable, so comfortable in fact that you don't dare move it. As the concerto flows further on, his hand slides further up your clothed leg and squeezes your upper thigh a little You tense under his touch, infatuation and lust filling every cell and exiting through your pores, just waiting for more passion to fill your body and make you drunk on the feeling.

When finally the concert ends, both of you stand to applaud the musicians for a solid few minutes, and you could swear you see a tear leaving Timothée’s mysterious eyes and rolling down his heavenly made, painfully defined cheekbones. While you clap, you surreptitiously edge closer together, millimetre by millimetre until you’re hip to hip with elbows nudging. Your head comes up to his chin, making you feel a little small, but you’ll feel even smaller once your heels come off. Once the majority of the audience have filed out, you grasp his hand and pull him through the crowds where you stand on the corner of the pavement, only metres from the venue. You’re reluctant to loosen your grip on his slim hand, as he is with yours.

“Cigarette?” He offers, holding a half full box out to you. You half smile and shake your head in refusal.

“I don’t mind if you do though.” You say, meeting his gaze. “I love the taste of smoke when I kiss someone.” You add in a whisper, leaning up on your tiptoes to whisper in his ear. He goes rigid, making you smirk to yourself. This is going to be a good night.

He lights his cigarette and takes slow drag, only looking away to blow the smoke in an opposite direction to you. How respectful, you think, as your stomach fills with butterflies and bubbles with anticipation. He puts it out on top of a bin and throws it away without littering, and just that small and helpful gesture makes you crave his touch, having his fingers trace your sweaty skin and making your body tingle, your back arch with desire and pleasure.

“Wanna get a drink?” You ask, pointing to a nice bar across the road. You’re desperate to sleep with him, but not without pleasantries first. He, however, shakes his head and intricately entwines his fingers with yours.

“I’ll do you one better than a drink.” His smirk sets off a different kind of longing in you, forcing your body to follow him wherever he takes you.

As you walk, he starts conversation, but you’re so breathless from the desperation speed walking that your answers are brief. He asks you why you attended the concert, only to remember that you’re a music student and piano teacher; so in turn, you ask him the same question.

“When I was doing Call Me By Your Name, I had to learn the piano, and while I was learning classical pieces, I kind of just fell in love with classical piano music, I don’t know.”

His nervousness is sweet, making him appear far more humble than anyone of his stature would usually be.

You get to his building after a twenty minute dash in heels, and he pulls you flush against him while entering through the revolving doors, allowing you to lay your weight on him for a moment while you gather your breath. You feel his heartbeat thudding and racing against his ribs, reverberating against your own chest. You turn around to face him and place your hand on his chest.

“Breathe.” You say to him, allowing him to release a long held breathy chuckle. You leave the doors, both laughing, and fervently press the buttons to wait upon a lift. “So,” You then continue, breaking the silence where only your breaths were heard. “Favourite piano piece from the Call Me By Your Name soundtrack?”

“Hallelujah Junction!” You both answer at the same time, just as the lift doors open. You fall into the lift in a fit of giggles, clinging onto each other. You find yourself with your back pressed against the cold metal handle bar in the elevator with Timothée’s face inches away from your own. Your breath mingles together. As soon as he presses the button to his floor, he nudges his nose with your own.

“God, you're so beautiful.” he says seconds before his mouth is pressed hotly against your own, kissing you with an unrivalled passion. Your lips mould and move together like it’s second nature. His one hand holds your waist while both of yours grip his face, feeling a slight stubble.

The lift dings and he drags you out, unlocking his apartment door and leading you inside.

“Welcome to Casa del Timmy.” he says while hugging you from behind, allowing you to get a full view.

His apartment is stunning. Sleek, yet also vintage. Your eyes follow across the perimeter through a door to the left, where he has an office area containing a sleek white desk with a mac and a stack of papers and pens, next to it is a vintage white bookcase stacked as high as possible with novels of all shapes and sizes, and even an indie style rug underneath a colourful modern dining set..

The door next to the office is a kitchen, white countertops with wooden cupboards and a beautiful view of the city out of the window. To the right is a set of glass doors that open onto a small balcony where you can see the whole city, even Manhattan and Brooklyn depending which way you look and how the moon beams down. There’s a closed door right in front of you and through the entry hall and living room which you assume is his bedroom held behind a golden doorknob.

His living room, where you remain standing, holds an array of house plants with a couple of very comfortable looking plush sofas, his TV stand as well as his coffee table look like polished vintage items, refurbished from a flea market maybe, while his book shelf and rug are grand and modern. The best part of all though is a grand piano in an oak wood, matching the wood from his television table, and you become instantly entranced by the instrument that you don’t even notice the velvet stool or the perfectly organised cabinet of music, with a guitar propped up against it.

“Wow.” You breathe. Timothée grips you tighter, trailing kisses across your shoulder and up the side of your neck, inhaling every few seconds to treasure the scent of your perfume. Gardenia, rose champagne, grapefruit, davana; heavenly. You grip his hands with your own, holding them tightly where they’re settled on your tummy. You roll your head against his shoulder to give him better access to kiss you, but he stops abruptly and leads you to the piano stool. He opens the cabinet and pulls out a well loved piece of music.

“I know it’s for two pianos, but let's have some fun.” He says, grinning at you, an infectious smile that you can’t help but return. Hallelujah Junction, first movement. He puts the music out on the piano and takes a seat beside you, your thighs touching and hands overlapping as they begin to glide over the keys.

Playing this piece is second nature to you, allowing you to find your way easily, slipping your fingers between Timothée’s, and the white and black keys. You begin a harmonious melody spanning the whole of the piano, but after only a couple of pages, you realise that its not working as your notes cross over, making it very difficult to play on just one piano. You laugh together, but only for a moment before he is trailing his tongue up your neck, then your lips, and delving inside your mouth. You gasp, moaning into the passionate kiss that he’s giving you, and within seconds you find yourself straddling his lap on the piano stool. You trap his thighs between yours, moving and grinding your hips a little against his to receive more friction where you can feel how needy he is.

Within seconds, he has your legs wrapped around his waist and his teeth on your clavicle. The pleasure makes sounds escape your lips that you didn’t even realise were possible. You knot your ankles as he stands up with one hand around your waist and the other feeling his way around his apartment. After a few funny missteps and close calls of him dropping you while only walking the expanse of his living room, he pins you against his bedroom door, finding your lips again

He gently pokes at your dusty pink bottom lip with his tongue, slipping his tongue back into your mouth, exploring avidly and devouring every taste of you that he can muster. You do the same, but become too infatuated by his taste to put much more passion into it: gin, mint, bergamot and smoke. Smoke, sugar and sin, the most deadly combination of them all, and that's all you can smell on him, making you moan even louder. An erotic moan that makes Timothée twist open the handle to his bedroom door as quickly as is humanly possible.

He as good as throws you onto the bed, but undeniably, it turns you on a lot to see his dominant side this early on into the evening. He doesn't seem like the type to pin you down and boss you around, but as he shuts his bedroom door and delicately takes off his probably very expensive shoes, you can see a glint in his eye, almost as if he’s planning on doing unspeakably pleasurable things to you. Just the thought makes you wetter than before.

As he locks the door and shuts his shoes away, you take a quick look around the room. His bed is nice, comfortable and exquisitely large, like other things you hope. He has a nice colourful throw, vintage looking pillows to match his nightstand, holding only a pillbox, a glass of water, hand sanitiser, and a box of tissues. The simplicity makes you want to laugh, but you restrain yourself. He has a big dresser to match his bedside table with the drawers a little skewwhiff and clothes poking out. His wardrobe is fitted to the wall and by the looks of it, surprisingly neat too. That much cannot be said for his sofa though. A plush, light grey sofa sits on one side of his room just away from the window, and it's covered with clothes. At least he made the bed though, that's more than you can say for most 20-odd year old mans rooms that you’ve been into.

He sheds his blazer and crawls up to where he left you on the bed, needy and craving more. He looks down at you with desperation in his eyes, and you can’t help but to attack his lips, threading one hand in his beautiful dark curls while the other nimbly pulls open his tie and undoes his shirt. You shrug it off his shoulders and run your nails up and down his spine. You feel him shiver beneath his touch while your hands travel all over his body. His shoulders, his biceps, his toned stomach; he’s skinny, but has enough substance to him to be strong and sexy as hell.

“You’ll kill me if you stop.” He whispers, followed by a string of breathy curses. His eyes roll into the back of his head, giving you ample opportunity to grasp his shoulders and slip the pair of you over, pinning him beneath you. His eyes flit all over your face before kissing you again.

“You are so freaking beautiful.” He mumbles between kisses. He slips his hands up to find the zip of your jumpsuit which he slides down crazily fast, only breaking the kiss to shrug it off your shoulders. He just lies in awe, noticing that you don’t have a bra on beneath it. His tongue darts out from between his lips as he examines every undulation of your body, following the swell of your breasts right down to your hips. Your nerves return under his scrutiny, making you want to hide your face, but instead he holds your wrists behind you.

“You never have to cover up,” he says, nothing more or less than genuine love in his eyes, “not for me.”

Despite only meeting him hours ago, you know that you can trust him, so you ungracefully clamber off his lap and lie on your back to shimmy off your burden of a jumpsuit. He practically leaps at the opportunity to worship your body, before him in only your panties. He starts at your ankle, placing feather light kisses all the way from your ankle, up your leg, not minding the slight harshness of your legs, and only stops at your knee joint to switch his lips to his tongue, licking a straight line all the way up your inner thigh, stopping centimetres from where you need him the most. Not through any of this ritual does he break eye contact though. He skips over your panties and only pulls them down a little to trail kisses from your pelvic bone, up past your navel, through the valley of your breasts, and finally back to your lips. He makes you feel things that you could only dream of before meeting him.

“Timothée…” you breathe, hearing his breath hitch in his throat at the way your tongue curls around his name.

You reach between the two of you to his trousers. You undo the belt buckle with ease and push his trousers off his hips and down his thin legs, allowing him to kick them off at the bottom. He seems embarrassed, wearing Y-fronts that make more visible just how much he wants you.

“How about we strip together?” You offer, and Timothée reluctantly nods. He pushes himself off of you and stands up, giving you a hand to stand up as well. He still hasn’t taken his eyes off you since the moment you left the concert hall. “3, 2, 1…”

You both remove your underwear, pushing them down your legs and stepping out of them, only to step closer together so that your chests are flush against one another. He moves his hand up to cup your face, brushing your hair away from your face while tilting your chin up, capturing your lips in a lustful yet also sensual kiss.

He nudges you and your legs hit the bed, making you topple over and break the kiss from a giggle, but he doesn’t seem to mind and only laughs with you, moving your body further onto the mattress. He doesn't go to you again, he just lies beside you and dances his fingers absently down your pubic bone, ghosting circles around your clit.

“Jesus Christ.” You exclaim at the sudden feeling. Timothée kisses your jawline, but adds in between kisses, “Less of that, darling, I’m Jewish.”

You can’t help but laugh at him. You know he’s joking, just trying to mess with you, but as a punishment for laughing, he thrusts two fingers inside you with no warning, making you cry out in a mixture of both pain and overwhelming pleasure.

He pumps his fingers in and out of you, never going deeper than the second knuckle even when you cry out for more. Only when your moans turn to gasps for breath and you’re writhing beneath him does he delve in further and add his thumb to your clit, giving you a more intense orgasm than you’ve ever had before.

You immediately feel blood rushing back to your cheeks, colouring them from embarrassment, but Timothée doesn’t mind. He removes his hand from your core, and makes sure your eyes are fixated on his every movement as he licks his hand clean of all your cum. You’re so turned on that you even reach for his own hand, interlacing all your fingers except for his index one, of which he takes the hint and slips it into your open mouth, allowing your tongue to curl around it, making him groan.

He slips further down the bed and locks his eyes onto yours, you can see different shades of green and hazel in them and a whole world locked behind those beautiful eyes. Slowly, he delves into your heat, licking up everything that his hands missed. His mouth works wonders, sending your mind into a state of mild euphoria. The tip of his nose nudges your clit and you can feel yourself involuntarily gasp, so when Timothée finishes savouring every taste of you that he can get, he harshly bites your sensitive clit for just a moment, stimulating parts of your mind and body that you didn’t know could feel pleasure, let alone pleasure that intense.

He comes back up and kisses your lips, planting his hands in your hair as you kiss him back and get lost in the moment, your tongues dance together in an exploration, an experimentation of passion.

You pull away after a minute or so, gasping for air. Timothée examines your face for a moment, and you find yourself once again losing your thoughts and sanity in his eyes, until you feel the tip of his throbbing cock brush against your bare thigh. You feel bad for how much he’s been neglecting his own levels of desire in order to pleasure you, so you wrap your fingers around the base of his cock. He takes a sharp intake of breath and flutters his eyes closed, his long dark eyelashes twitching alongside his eyelids whenever you grasp harder or pump him.

He’s surprisingly big, causing you to take longer while rubbing your hand up and down his member. Half way down one thrust, you squeeze his cock a little, hearing him whimper a little. The mere sound of him drowns your core in want. You edge your way down the bed and swallow as much of his dick as you can take until his tip hits the back of your throat. He lets out the most sensual guttural groan that you’ve ever heard, his eyes still closed while placing his hand on the back of your head to keep you steady. You bring your head back up to look at him while your tongue swirls his tip, his mouth is parted a little with breathy moans of your name escaping every once in a while, his eyelids switching from being lazily half open to squeezed so tightly shut that they wrinkle a little.

You go back down slowly, inch by inch, hollowing your cheeks. You work your hand in the part of him that won’t fit in your mouth and continue to bob your head up and down. You lick a strip up a vein on the underside of his dick, making him near enough scream your name. With one final bob of your head where you deep throat him, you pull away with plump lips, climbing up his body to straddle his waist. He looks up at you with wide and loving eyes, pulling you down for a sensual kiss.

“Are you clean?” He asks breathlessly, kissing down the hickeys that he’s already littered your skin with.

“Yeah, i got tested after my last break up a few months ago, and I haven’t been with anyone since. Is that because I just…” He nods and you laugh a little, the vibrations from his chuckle rumble throughout your body.

“I did the same, but I’ll still…” You get what he’s saying and climb off him. He flings open the top drawer of his bedside table and after a minute or so of rooting through it he pulls out a condom packet and places it next to his glass of water. You give him a questioning look with your brows knitted together, but Timothée just smiles at you. He slips one slim arm beneath your back and the other under your knee joint before scooping you up and holding you close to his chest.

“Well hey there Timothée.” You say with a chuckle, secretly astonished at how strong he is, because with one arm still holding you, he throws away the decorative pillows and pulls the duvet back, throwing you onto the mattress and leaping on top of you. You smile into his kiss, savouring every second of the feel of his lips pressed hotly against your own, the taste of smoke driving you crazy.

He pulls away and sits up, tearing open the condom packet and grasping his hand sanitiser. He flicks the lid open and squeezes it liberally onto his hands before applying it and rubbing it into yours. “Are you sure?” He asks you, and your urgent kiss to his jawline is followed by a string of fervent reassurances that you are desperate to have him inside you, though you respect that he wants consent and that he wants to be clean. He slips the condom on, his eyes trained on your lips and the way they part from wanting every few seconds. He’s enjoying torturing you and making you wait, the same way that you edged him but denied him orgasm.

He slips the condom on and slowly enters in one smooth stroke. You gasp at the contact, especially how deep he goes with the first thrust, so deep that his pubic bone hits your own. He reaches for the duvet and he pulls it up over his shoulders, covering the pair of you since he can see that you’re shivering a little in the open. He looks for reassurance, but then begins to thrust inside you, holding his weight above you. You can see his biceps tensing while trying to hold his weight up and keep a steady rhythm.

“How about we spice this up?” He suggests, a sly smirk playing on his lips. He cocks an eyebrow, and the sun hits his face at an angelic angle, only making him more beautiful. You nod eagerly to him, only making his smirk grow wider.

“Yes Mr Timothée,” you say, triggering a dominant smirk to relight behind those stunning eyes.

“That's Mr Chalamet to you tonight, Miss.” Words cannot even explain how wet he makes you by saying that, already making your mind want to submit to his every want. You let out a whimper and remove your hands from his hips to lay above your head on the pillows. He joins his fingers around your wrist and proceeds to lay his slender hand flat against your wrists, preventing you from moving.

“Is this okay?” He asks, his movements coming to a halt. You nod and kiss him again. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

He must really enjoy what he’s doing to you. “Yes Mr Chalamet.” You reply, making your eyes as doe like and innocent as possible.

Timothée’s thrusts restart, faster this time. You moan louder, ecstasy filling every inch of your spent body before you’ve even properly begun. His moans are lower, more like groans, all of your name. It sounds heavenly coming from his lips, the way his mouth moves when he says your name just makes it better. His hips hit yours with vigour, adjusting to get a better position where he hits the best spot inside of you.

“There Timothée!” You scream desperately, your back arching on the mattress while your hands fight to break free. Submitting isn’t as easy as you hoped.

“I’m close.” He warns you and frees your wrists, but he doesn’t let your hand go too far. He interlocks his fingers with yours, using one elbow to prop himself up. His thrusts turn sloppy, more fervent, and just as he’s finishing, he digs his thumb into your clit.

Your entire body turns limp, screaming his name in a state of complete euphoria like you’ve never felt before. It travels from your brain to the tips of your fingers, setting a fire in your belly and making your toes curl. Your back arches so far off the bed that your chest becomes pressed against Timothée’s, your breasts moving in time with his breathing. You feel him come to his own climax, silencing his screams by kissing you with more passion than he has before.

You ride out your highs, but the level of pleasure illuminating every nerve ending in your body means that you don’t notice Timothée pulling out and disposing of the condom, you only notice when he flops down beside you on the bed and pulls you closer to his slightly sweaty body. You rest your head on his chest that seems to be glowing in the moonlight from the sheen of sweat. He absently plaits your hair, staring off into the distance. The faint thudding of his heart within his ribs comforts you, it's a little faster than would be normal, making you smile a little.

“How was that?” His hand grips around your shoulder even tighter, pulling you closer to his body. He seems content in simply holding you, maybe he just enjoys cuddling. “Wait, don’t answer that.” He corrects himself, his pupils dilating and his excellent, angelic body going rigid. You chuckle to yourself, drawing circles on his chest with the pad of your forefinger,

“Excellent, Mr Chalamet.” You tease him.

“I wasn’t too rough, was I?” He looks fearful, fretting, it's evident in the sudden sulk of his face, pulling his cheeks and forehead down. You shake your head again, slowly but surely moving your leg to lie over his. Ye inclines his neck to place a gentle kiss to our hairline, and you can feel him smile into it.

“Timothée?”

“Yes beautiful?” Just his simple words make you giggle and blush, such a sweet sentiment from a gorgeous and well meaning man.

“I’m hungry.” You say, feeling slightly embarrassed. He laughs, you feel his body move from it, and he proceeds to pepper your face with the softest and sweetest kisses possible.

“I’ll make us some food, grab any shirt you want and meet me in the kitchen.”

You watch him pull on a pair of grey sweat pants and walk out. His pale hips sway just a little as he walks, and he looks so lanky from where you’re laying on his bed, the covers pulled up around your chest. He kissed your forehead before heading to the kitchen, what kind of a man does that on the first night? He’s a famous actor and the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen, let alone a couple of years above yourself. He really knows how to please a girl, your skin rises in tiny goosebumps of pleasure while a shiver shoots down your spine and leaps across your synapses just at the mere thought of what he did to you, by far the best climax you’ve ever had.

You slowly slide out from under his warm, plush covers that smell just like him, only leaving with severe reluctance that melts away as soon as you shrug on the pale blue button down that he wore for the concert. Only a few hours ago you’d met at a concert for old people, already having a common interest that few your age have, yet he’s so eager about classical piano which is so special to you. You fiddle with the buttons, leaving the top few open in hopes of another round - he is making you an almost-midnight feast after all.

You walk out of his room and pad barefoot across his living room floor, only to have a little grey cat come and rub at your feet. You lean down to tickle behind its ears, hearing it meow, and you continue your way too where Timothée has left the kitchen door open for you. He’s standing over the stove with some ingredients laid out on the spotlessly clean countertops. You smile in spite of yourself, running a hand through your messy hair before wrapping your arms around his torso from behind. You place a couple of kisses to his shoulder blades until he turns around and picks you up in one swift movement, sitting you on the counter so that you meet his height.

“It looks better on you.” He whispers, pulling you closer by your bare thighs to plant a kiss on your lips. He’s making you feel things you’ve never experienced before, you can’t wipe the smile off your face for the first time in a while, and he's making you food in the middle of the night after cuddling you.

Dreamboat.

After watching him cook for a while, you slip out of his kitchen and take a seat at his piano. You run your fingers over the smooth wood, it’s well loved but well kept. Then you take a seat on the stool. You can feel where Timothée sits to play, your smile turning a little sad. There’s so much to him that people won’t see because he’s getting famous, but he’s still a person and that’s something that you’re able to experience first-hand.

Eyes closed, you feel for F and Ab with both of your hands. You press the keys down gently, creating the soft blend of notes that is Clair De Lune. You fall lost in the music in a new way, a new feeling washing you with all of tonight's new sensations and sitting at a piano that is neither your own nor at school, it feels somewhat ethereal.

Your fingers glide all across the keys, black to white, flats to sharps, switching between octaves like its second nature. Your mind dances along with the rhythm, your whole mind, soul and being becoming lost in the symphony that you’re creating, one that you haven’t been able to create for a while, and it’s only thanks to Timothée.

You become so absorbed in playing that you don’t notice him leaving the kitchen to listen. He just stands in the doorway, leaning against it with his head lolled a little to the side, completely mesmerised by your movements, your music, and just everything you are. Only when you play the final notes are you alerted of his presence from the creaking of the floorboards beneath his feet. He walks over to you with purpose, a slight grimace on his perfect lips, but he just hugs you. Timothée just holds you close to his chest, allowing you to entwine your arms around his neck and nuzzle your face in his bare chest.

“Stay the night?” He asks, such a simple request but he truly does seem anxious. You want to be genuine, kind, but it’ll be best to relieve the tension.

“You’re making me a late night post-sex feast and giving me your shirt, of course I’m staying the night.” After a moment of silence, he exhales a laugh and node, brushing a curl or two into his face. “Anyway, your cat likes me too, so it’d be a shame to disappoint the little cutie.”

After only a few minutes, you find yourself back in bed with Timothée. He’s carrying a tray full of food that looks and smells gorgeous, followed by his cat who decides to dance between his legs. He serves you a strangely shaped piece of an odd looking pizza, though it still looks excellent, and it has some perfectly cooked and seasoned vegetables next to it on a white plate.

“What is this?” You ask him as kindly as possible.

“Flammekueche with some vegetables. It’s a French pizza with crème fraiche and bacon. My dad makes it all the time and always gives me some that I just freeze and reheat. I can only make microwave meals and vegetables, so this isn’t bad for me.” The way he explains it makes him so endearing, and even makes the food seem more than enticing. “You’re not allergic to anything are you? Or vegetarian?” You shake your head with a smile, kissing him and thanking him for the meal even though he won’t let you touch it before you sanitise your hands.

You talk the whole while that you eat, learning little things about his favourite books and his family. His favourite book just happens to be Tender is the Night by F. Scott Fitzgerald, a book you both know and love, and Timothee has a Jewish mother, a French father, an older sister, and he grew up in the city. You however are from out of the city with an exceptionally normal family, and your favourite book is Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte. He seems to be growing fond of you, wiping the pizza sauce from your lip, followed by a kiss each time.

He places your plates on the floor as soon as you finish, snatching at the speed of light for some hand sanitiser, lube and another condom. You more than happily oblige with all of his steps and strip off his shirt, kissing the living daylights out of him before he’s even slotted the condom on. He kisses you back with equal fervour nonetheless, exploring your whole mouth with the tip of his tongue. He cautiously adds some lube to the sides of the condom and slips into you while you’re still atop him. You moan at the penetration, arching your body forwards and hereby giving Timothée a full view of your breasts and the way they bounce with his every thrust inside you.

You moan pornographically at his slow and passionate movements upwards and deep inside you, finding your special spot within moments. He settles his hands upon your hips, squeezing them and guiding your every movement. You ride him just the way he wants you to, you can see it in his eyes. He looks at you like a teenage boy would at a naked supermodel, of which you are only naked and most definitely not a supermodel, despite him treating you like one, and Timothée is thankfully older than a teenage boy yearning for sex.

“You look so fucking brilliant.” He tells you, admiring the way that your face contorts with pleasure while taking every inch of him.

You rhythmically grind your hips against him, swirling them occasionally just to hear him cry out. Nothing is a hinderance from you going faster, but this sex isn’t needing to be urgent to be satisfying. He squeezes your hips harder and you decides to move up a little further, bouncing back down on him as he becomes buried to the hilt in your desperate core. You do it again, engulfing him anew and moaning his name continually from the mix of friction and pleasure that’s sending you into another euphoria, but not enough to release again just yet.

Timothée still hasn’t taken his eyes off you, namely your breasts where he’s currently focussed, eyes trained on your hardened nipples - partly from not wearing a shirt and partly from Timothée’s ministrations. He leans up and captures your left nipple in his mouth, sucking and kissing and swirling his tongue around you in the most divine way possible. He moves his hands away from your hips too, allowing you to grind your hips on his in any way that you like. His one hand moves to your other breast, tweaking and pulling at your right peak and sending sensations through your body that you’d never realised could be real before; while his other slips to the rounds of your ass, squeezing delectably.

“Mr Chalamet, p-please,” you find yourself begging, leaning down while still riding him, his torture on your breasts never ceasing, not even when he thrusts his hips up one final time, allowing your core to devour him whole and sending you into your third otherworldly climax of the night.

“Timothée!” You scream, your climax pouring out of you. You feel him come too, and you hear him cry out your name like a blessing.

He doesn’t pressure you, he just waits until you’re able to clamber off him with as minimal pain and exhaustion as possible, though you do whine at the loss of contact as you lie beside him, his arms securely around you and holding you as close to him as possible. It doesn’t matter that you’re both sweaty or spent, it just feels special.

“Look at that, done before 1am.” He chides, cuddling into you. You laugh a little at him, especially his humour, but it is rather remarkable.

“Two rounds, a meal, and a concert. Can’t speak for you, but I’m knackered.” He smiles at you sleepily, passing you the shirt that you wore earlier. You shrug it on and do it up while Timothée puts his joggers back on and draws the curtains, leaving the two of you in dark for the most part. You lie further down, still close to his thin chest, you hear his breathing rattle a little, but it's soothing.

“Night beautiful.” Is the last thing you hear before falling asleep in his arms.

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

The only issue about sleeping with Timothée is that you forget it's a Saturday morning, and on Saturdays, you have to work. Your phone alarm starts to go off at 7.15 precisely, which when you’re home, gives you enough chance to get ready for teaching in a calm manner so that you aren’t already angry before teaching little children how to play Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. Today however, that is not the case.

Timothée sleeps through it somehow, but your eyes are shocked wide awake, causing you to leap from the comfort and warmth of his bed and cuddles just to crawl on the floor in search of your phone and where it fell last night. You find it next to his door somehow, and switch the alarm off immediately, propping yourself up against the door to release a long held breath and to watch the sun rise through his windows. He looks so beautiful asleep, his lips parted slightly, soft snores escaping every so often, dark eyebrows furrowed and his mop of curls haphazardly lying around him like a halo. The morning glow makes his cheekbones appear even more defined.

You want to gather your belongings without waking him, get dressed and catch a cab back to your flat, but just as you go to open his door, he stirs.

“Where do you think you’re going beautiful? Come back to bed, I’m keeping you here with me forever.” You know he’s joking, and his words melt your heart and inhibitions a little, but you can’t justify staying

“I have to work, my first student is at 9.30.” You say, walking across to stand beside his bed and brush some hair off his forehead, kissing him and your lips lingering on his sweaty skin a little longer than they probably should have.

“And? I’ll drive you home in time, if you live near Juilliard then I know a shortcut. Just come back.” He's virtually pleading, puppy eyes and quivering lip just to add to the effect, and you simply can’t say no when he looks so perfect. You place your things on the floor by the bed and slip beside him, allowing your eyes to flutter shut just a moment longer.

His finger traces your naked body beneath the shirt, focussing on the bruises he left on your hips and the marks on your neck. Just his touch is enough to take control of your body, to give you goosebumps, to electrify every feeling of love and lust held within.

“Can I use your shower please?” You ask him, and he nods, placing his chin atop your head.

“I’ll take you to my bathroom and then I’ll make you breakfast. Grab whatever clothing you want from my room, but you can’t leave this bed until you agree to dinner with me tonight.”

Your heart rate increases tenfold at his gesture, and you want to take a leap of faith and say yes straight away, but that would be playing your cards too quickly. “We’ll see.” You respond sultrily, making your way to leave, but his strong grip pulls you flush against him with no space to move. You can hear him laughing in your ear.

“Say yes to dinner and then you can leave.” He slips his hands further down your front without losing his grip and decides to toy with your clit as though it’ll get you to talk.

“Y-yes! God, Timothée, of course I’ll go to dinner with you, just don’t stop!” You find it impossible to understand the shockwaves of pleasure pulsating and electrifying your every sense from an action as simple as the pads of his fore and middle fingers twisting and pressing your sensitive clit. It’s so incredible that after the previous night, it feels like overstimulation, and you can’t get enough.

“I’ll never stop.” He murmurs gruffly into your ear, you can hear the hoarseness that smoking causes but god it sounds and tastes so good.

He pulls your body closer and rolls you over. “Hey baby.” You say as calmly as you can, but within seconds you find yourself sitting on his face, half of his stunning bone structure lost beneath you. He delves his tongue into your already dripping heat, licking as far as he can get and only pulling away to kiss and suckle at your clit.

“Let me come Mr Chalamet!” You cry out, and with one final swipe of his tongue around your core and a squeeze of your ass, you let go. Timothée licks you clean while you still chant his name, and he proceeds to pick you up in order to carry you to the bathroom. You settle your heels at the base of his spine, digging in a little, and his arms tense beneath your ass from the manner he carries you. You like being above him, able to trace every line and bit of stubble on his face with your focussed eyes that he stares so deeply into at any given chance.

“Don’t be too long or I’ll be tempted to join you.”

You slowly cross the threshold of the bathroom, winking at him as you close the door. He inaudibly groans, but you can tell from his facial expression and the tension in his joggers that make him look utterly sexy. You slowly unbutton his shirt, reluctant to take it off, but when you step under the warm jet of his shower, that reluctance washes away along with any inhibitions you may have had about Timothée. He’s an angel: clean, respectful, enjoys classical music, has a cat, isn’t a cocky dickhead, and he’s literally the most gorgeous human being that you’ve ever laid eyes on.

You run your fingers through your hair, standing directly beneath his showerhead. The steam clouds your vision, but you can hear Timothée singing while he cooks, Mystery of Love. What a dork, you think, chuckling to yourself while you rinse Tim’s shower gel from your body, and you just know that after this you’ll smell like him, but he smells delectable. As the water hits the most sensitive parts of your body, you remember the previous night. Just the thought of what he did to you makes you crave his touch again.

Through the bathroom window, you can make out the New York traffic that builds every morning, accompanied by the screeching of tires and sirens and car horns. Despite it being a ruckus, it's soothing as you step out the shower and wrap yourself in one of Timothée’s fluffy towels.

“How do you look so sexy when you’re getting out of the shower? God, I can't stress it enough, you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve seen in my life, even without any makeup and with your hair un-styled, just wrapped in my Goddamn towel. You’re gonna be mine, mark my words.” You feel tears come to your eyes at his kind words, watching him purposefully walk from the kitchen and all the way across his apartment just to place his hands on your waist and tell you how beautiful you are. Those words are better than a concerto to you.

Once you’ve finished getting dry in his bedroom, you ferret through his drawers until you pull out a white top with various tie dye patterns across it. It’s cute, very Timothée. You pull it on and it reaches your mid thighs, making it clock in your head just how much of a lanky lad he is. You bundle together your stuff and head out of his room, closing the door behind you and greeting him with a kiss. He sits you at the breakfast bar and serves you a proper cooked breakfast: bacon, scrambled eggs, and pancakes.

“There's ketchup and syrup in the cupboard if you’d like.” He offers, sidling up on the seat beside you, nudging the tip of your nose with his thumb. The smile hasn’t left your face since you met him.

“This is good, you’re an excellent cook.” You tell him, resting your hand on his. His cheeks glow an even brighter red in the cascading morning sunlight, dappled by his blinds, but he looks magnificent despite his embarrassment.

You take out your phone, just to take a picture of the breakfast while it’s still untouched, and of your hand held by Timothée’s, already wearing rings. You notice that he’s already wearing a silver chain too, and a couple of bracelets on the wrist away from your own, which you find unusually attractive.

“I wish you could stay all day.” he whispers, placing his forehead on yours.

“Me too.” you say softly, smiling sadly and caressing his cheek.

You finish your breakfast and make your way to the living room in a strange kind of waltz orchestrated by Timothée. He insists on holding your waist and turning around a little, moving your feet in sync until you yank him down onto the sofa, catching his lips mid sigh which leads to a much more passionate make out session than you anticipated. Once that’s over, he plaits your hair beautifully, explaining how it used to calm his sister down before an audition. By the time he’s finished a very good pair of plaits, you check the time and it’s already 9, time for you to leave with NYC traffic, but Tim won’t let you go.

“Not without a photo.” He insists, but you question his reasons. Who would want a photo of you with wet hair in plaits, an oversized tee-shirt and a bare face? But his answer is too sweet to refuse. “I like taking pictures of beautiful things, and of which, you are the most beautiful.” Your cheeks flush a raging scarlet, and Timothée takes your few moments of silence as the perfect opportunity to take a picture of you, sunlight hitting your face in all the right places, and he takes another for good measure, his hand on your cheek and his lips on yours, a kiss that shuts you up for good.

He takes you down the stairs right to the garage where he keeps his car, and surprisingly, it’s an understated car, not crazily extortionate nor flashy, something which you respect highly. He sits you in the passenger side, making sure to kiss you before closing the door, and he gets in the driver's side. After starting the engine and leaving the parking lot, he lays his palm flat against your thigh and keeps it there the whole drive while you change gears for him. You tell him all about your childhood, your high school, your time in uni while he tells you his life at a performing arts high school and then his life as an actor, he truly fascinates you.

Once he pulls up outside your building, he tries to convince you to let him come in, or at least walk you to your door, but on the grounds of not scaring the life out of your neighbours and students, you say no with a promise to see him later.

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard tonight that you won’t be able to walk.” He says, pulling you in for a final passionate kiss before you step out of the car. He made you wet just before you have to work, you’ll get him back later, but the revenge melts as soon as he leans out the window to blow you a kiss and tell you how stunning you are.

You’re so lost in your trance of Timothée that you don’t notice your first student tapping you on the shoulder and excitedly saying “Was that the Timothée Chalamet?”

You chuckle to yourself, watching him drive off into traffic, all for you. “Yes it was love, yes it was.”